#i’m actually quite quiet. awkward. and shy outwardly | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

liquorisce · 3 years

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High School Years, Ch 3: aftermath.

pairing: eren x mikasa (SnK)

rating: M. (nsfw)

Summary: for eren and mikasa, love was easy; they'd loved each other forever. but physical attraction? that's a whole other story.

read on ao3 | chap 2 | chap 1

The morning after the… “confrontation”, when they walk to school, they hold hands. It's a new dimension of their ‘relationship’, and the thought of calling it that, of calling Eren her ‘boyfriend,’ is something that makes her feel so many things.

“So um,” she begins, squeezing his hand a little bit, soft pink dusting her cheeks, as he turns to look at her questioningly. “... Are we going to tell the gang?”

For the briefest moment he looks confused, but when he sees her shy expression, not spelling it out because she doesn’t know how to say it yet, his eyes widen in understanding. “Ah that you and I...,” he colours, just a little bit, because it wasn’t until the words were literally at the tip of his tongue, that he realizes he doesn’t know how to say it either.

She’d said it last night, called him her boyfriend, and it did things to him, making his heart constrict with a nervous kind of excitement. Because he was Mikasa’s boyfriend, and that was something of an honour.

But another part of him, the part that recognizes what it means for a high school kid, just finds it completely lacking, he doesn’t want to announce that he’s ‘dating’ Mikasa Ackerman, the word simply does not do it justice. And he sure as hell doesn’t want to hear her name in the gossip rings, from the mouths of shallow, boring girls who have little better to do than keep track of their high school reality show or from the dirty whispers of teenage boys who can’t control their hormones (if Eren is one of them, he doesn’t acknowledge it).

“... Maybe we could just keep it quiet? Just for a little while…” He watches her expressions searchingly, and she does that thing that she does, hides into her bangs when she doesn’t want him to see what she’s thinking and he panics, just a little.

“Hey, listen,” he stops her by the wrist, before they round the corner onto the street of their school. “... It’s not that I want to hide it,” he whispers, resting his forehead against hers, because god forbid she thinks he’s embarrassed or ashamed or anything short of absolutely ecstatic, “You know that, right?”

She closes her eyes and she lets the waves of insecurity pass her by. Surely, there was nothing more to worry about. He’d made no secret of the depth of his feelings last night. “Mm-hmm.” She feels his minty breath cool on her lower lip and she reaches up to press her mouth against his. It’s tentative, the way she does it, reserved and shy but completely incomparable. It’s like everything she does, he thinks breathlessly, as he deepens the kiss. There’s no one like her.

She threads her hands into his already messed up hair, breathing harshly as she breaks away from his kiss. “I don’t mind,” she agrees, “... I think I’d like it to be just between us for a while…”

And because he’s so grateful that he’s in love with his best damn friend, who knows him and understands him like nobody else, he kisses her again… just because he can.

…

They know. He doesn’t know how they know, but they fucking know, and he mutters unhappily under his breath, “... fucking vultures, the whole lot of them.”

Armin smirks, not unsympathetically. They’d mutually decided to tell him (rather, he spotted them holding hands, and he’d almost cried in happiness), even though Eren had been somewhat sour about it, sulking when Mikasa had pointed out that they obviously needed to tell Armin. Eren was a brat, and a jealous one, especially where Mikasa was concerned, so despite having ample proof by now that the kiss between Armin and her had meant nothing, it remained a sore topic for him.

“Isn’t it easier this way? At least now you won’t have to stare down all the boys queuing up to ask for her number in the cafeteria.”

“... That’s not the point,” Eren sulks, even though he knows Armin has a point (he always does), the phenomenon he’d described was a canonical and frequent event that he actively loathes, because Mikasa was quite free with her personal details that way.

( It’s high school, Eren , she’d told him exasperatedly one day when he’d actually brought it up to her, if I don’t give them my number they’ll get it from someone else anyway. Besides, the block functionality is quite useful .)

Somehow Eren is fairly certain that knowing she was in a relationship wouldn’t be enough to deter potential suitors (/ fanboys) and as they walk towards their class, he spots the best example of this crass behaviour in none other than his horse faced friend chatting up his girlfriend, who seemed to be fairly liberal with her smiles.

Armin watches the scene from right next to him and snorts, barely able to contain his laughter. “... You’re so transparent, Eren.”

“Clearly the news hasn’t reached everyone,” he clears his throat, tearing his gaze away from the beauty and the beast, trying his best to remain civil and not scare his girlfriend away in less than 24 hours of them being, you know, together .

“This is what you wanted,” Armin reminds him, clapping his shoulder sportingly, barely able to contain his grin.

…

She tugs nervously at her hair, feeling ridiculously exposed despite the fluffy maroon scarf around her neck. She hadn’t been prepared for the events of yesterday, be it the emotional confession, or the heated kisses, or the possessive nips at her neck.

She certainly wasn’t prepared for the self consciousness that came with the marks he left on her, and had absolutely no knowledge of the make up skills required to cover it. (It hadn’t helped that it had taken Armin less than two minutes to spot the hickeys.)

But what she was least prepared for, is how almost everyone seemed to know, without her even having to open her mouth, and how they all seemed to have an opinion.

… Aw, but I was really counting on him getting back together with Krista… they were so cute…

… I wonder how long he’ll stay with this one…

… wait, Mikasa Ackerman? Aren’t they like practically siblings or something? Ewwww~

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to gag, or if she wanted to hide… or both.

She doesn’t hide. Because Mikasa Ackerman is a class act and despite feeling completely torn up listening to bitchy people talk about her like she does not possess hearing, she goes through the day looking outwardly untouchable.

But after trudging through the entire day of listening to absolute bullshit rumours and whispering, she’s pretty sure she feels a migraine incoming. Groaning to herself, as she takes out her notebook from her locker, she finds herself face to face with a chirpy voice that she once hated.

“... Hey,” Krista says, with a small smile. “... rough day, huh.”

Mikasa nods, it’s not that she dislikes the cute blonde in front of her (not too much, anyway), it’s just that today was not the day she wants to be visually reminded of her existence. Because watching her, in her white miniskirt and pink sweater, perfect blonde hair and her perfect smile, is reminiscent of all the days she hid in her room with only her insecurity for company.

“So um,” Krista begins, because Mikasa can be comfortable in her silence, just looking at Krista questioningly. “... Everyone’s talking about it, basically,” she blurts out, unable to help herself.

“And if you want to know whom to smack, it’s Hitch, because she says she saw you guys holding hands outside school and making out, and she snapchatted it to the whole world, because that’s what she does and,” - Mikasa’s eyes narrow and Krista takes a deep breath.

“Look, I just wanted to reach out, and you know,” she clears her throat, like it was obvious what she was doing here. Mikasa just looks blank, feels blank. “... Like, I don’t want it to be awkward or anything, between us,” Mikasa is genuinely confused at this point, because there didn’t have to be an us, between her and Krista, their social circles were comfortably distant enough to have as minimal interaction as possible. “... You seem like a great person, and honestly, I’m not even surprised you guys ended up together. It was just a matter of time, I guess.”

She smiles earnestly as she says this, and Mikasa finds herself liking the short blonde despite herself, and offers a smile back. “... Thanks, that’s sweet of you.”

“And um,” Krista offers, completely casually, “... I could lend you some concealer if you wanna… you know, cover that up.”

…

“Snapchat!” Sasha wails theatrically, “... I can’t believe this is what our friendship has boiled down to.”

Mikasa has the grace to look guilty. “Explain to me, bestie ,” Sasha can be quite scary when she has her manic face on, “why, I had to receive a snap from the school’s number one hoe, informing me of the fact that my best friend had finally hooked up with her absolute thirst trap of a roommate.”

She doesn’t have much to say to defend herself, she simply slinks lower into her seat. “... I’ll buy you lunch for a week,” Mikasa whispers, defeated.

“Oh you better,” Sasha declares, still fuming. “... Snapchat, are you fucking kidding me…” She turns around once more, sizing Mikasa up deliberately. “... What about that time I walked in on you guys, in the kitchen, and he didn’t have a shirt on?” Sasha narrows her eyes accusingly. “... Were you two already…? Did you lie to me back then?”

“No! God, no,” Mikasa vaguely wonders why she sounds so defensive and apologetic about her own love life, but she remembers that Sasha is upset and for what it’s worth, she loves her like a sister, so she says, “... I swear, there was nothing between us then. It only happened, like… last night.”

Mikasa blushes as she says it, and the twinkle returns to Sasha’s brown eyes. “You must tell me everything,” she commands, and despite her sighing and blushing and giggling, Mikasa does exactly that.

...

He waits for her as they walk back from school. This is new too. Well not entirely, they’d walk back together, the three of them, Him, Mikasa and Armin, everyday in middle school, but high school had brought them different routines, and a distance that he was happy to get rid of.

“So…” he says as he slips his fingers between hers. “So much for our plan to keep it quiet.”

She burrows her head into his arm, “... everyone knew. Literally everyone.” After a minute, she adds reproachfully, “The hickeys you left on my neck didn’t help, either.”

He grins despite the glare she gives him. Embarrassing or not, he didn’t regret it one bit, not the moments that led up to those anyway... the way she’d found herself on his lap, fitting so perfectly in his arms, and against his mouth. The way she’d gasped when he’d let himself explore the sensitive skin on her neck.

He understands her situation, but god, there was no way he’d apologize for the sheer sensation he’d felt in that moment.

Tugging at her scarf to see his own handiwork, he can’t help his disappointment when he sees only a faint outline of them on her pretty skin. “... I see you’ve covered them up.”

“Ah,” Mikasa grins, “... that was your ex, actually.”

She feels him still, letting go of her hand for a brief moment. “... What?” Eren blinks nervously. They don’t really talk about his ex, not much more than they did yesterday anyway, and he wishes they’d never have to, not now that he knows perfectly well how much it had hurt Mikasa.

“You… um, spoke to her today?”

Mikasa nods, “... She came by to say hello, yeah.” And because Eren looks extremely uncomfortable at the thought, she giggles and tells him, “She says she didn’t want things to be awkward between us.”

Eren groans, “... this sounds like the teaser to every high school drama ever.” But despite his sarcasm, he was worried because despite Mikasa’s unassuming popularity in school, she lived her life outside of the cliques, the gossip rings, the drama… and Krista, sweet that she was, was somehow always in the thick of it.

“Don’t worry,” Mikasa says sweetly, “... if you want me to tell you that we had a catfight over you, prepare for disappointment.”

He grins in relief and asks, “... Is it so wrong to indulge in the fantasy of you fighting with another girl over me?” And because he can’t help himself, he adds, “You’d win for sure, Mikasa.”

…

As long as she can remember, Mikasa had been in love with Eren. It wasn’t complicated, or confusing for her, she’d loved him and she’d always known it.

When she was younger she had less trouble expressing it, they played together all the time, and she shared her toys with him, her sweets, and promised his mom she would take care of him when he got into trouble.

During her darkest days (after losing her parents), he would look after her, keep an eye out for her, tuck her in sometimes and sleep by her side when she had nightmares. Back then it was easier to ask for his attention - Eren could you stay with me, she remembers her 12 year old self asking, sniffling in the night, with no inhibitions, just a young girl asking for comfort from the boy she shared everything with.

(He’d given her everything she asked for graciously, fussing over her in his own way, watching over her even when she didn’t notice.)

It’s the ‘how’ that increased in complexity, the way she wanted more and more as the years went by, until the point where her love for him was a complete stranger. It was frustrating when she first realized it, when she realized she looked at him more often than usual… when she realized she wanted him to look at her too.

Growing up they’d watch movies together, and she’d often wonder about the way the hero kissed the heroine at the end of the movie, and wondered if someday Eren would kiss her like that. Most of all she wondered if Eren thought about it too.

When he started dating, that became amply clear to her - he thought of kissing, and to her unfortunate attention, it became clear that he thought of much more too. Those months were incredibly difficult for Mikasa because not only did she have to go through life like nothing had changed - ostensibly nothing had, not between them - but she had to police every indiscrete thought when he walked around after his shower without a shirt on, she had to control her gaze every time it fell on his beautiful mouth, wondering exactly what it would feel like against hers.

And for the first time in the longest time, Mikasa could no longer love Eren the way she always had, openly and without shame, she could no longer ask of him his care and attention.

But it feels like overnight so much has changed, she can barely comprehend it. Eren is so generous with his attention (his love), she wonders if the last couple of years of distance was the doing of her own imagination.

He is so free with his touches, sometimes gentle on her waist, sometimes tender on her face, sometimes rough in her hair (this excites her most of all). She no longer has to wonder if he’d ever kiss her like in the movies, he kisses whenever he damn pleases, and it always, always takes her by surprise. And it is so much better than she has ever imagined.

…

He saunters in as she prepares the tofu carefully, and because Mikasa is a perfectionist in everything she does, she’s concentrating completely on flipping each piece at the perfect moment when they turn golden brown.

But because Eren finds literally everything she does impossibly cute, he wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her gleefully on the cheek. It has the desired effect, she gasps, dropping her fork, and he catches her in an open mouthed kiss.

He manages to distract her for a good couple of minutes until she smells the tofu becoming decidedly darker than golden brown. “Erennn,” she whines, “... my tofu is ruined!”

“I’m sure it’ll taste wonderful,” he says because she’s an excellent cook, but also because he’s slightly affronted that by the way she pulls away in complaint.

“Please. Go sit,” she swats him away, making him pout adorably. He does as he is told and waits till she plates the food minutes later, and he’s pleased to say that he was absolutely right, it did taste wonderful.

But he’s more eager to eat up as soon as possible and finish what he tried to start a few moments ago.

“What are you going to do after dinner?” The answer he wants to hear is I’d like to make out with my boyfriend , but just as he expected, Mikasa’s mind is on a slightly different wavelength.

“... Hmm,” she eyes him suspiciously, “... I guess I’ll finish cleaning up and read the latest chapter in English Lit before bed, and just drift off to sleep. Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” he states innocently. “... I’ll help you clean up.”

He changes the topic before they have a chance to linger, and does good on his promise to clean up as fast as he can. It’s ridiculous the way he’s acting, and he doesn’t understand it himself, but he can’t seem to help himself. He can’t seem to stop looking at her, can’t seem to stop craving her, whether it’s the closeness of her body or the taste of her lips, and he’s pretty certain the way he’s acting right now is downright embarrassing, but somehow since its with Mikasa, he feels emboldened.

Or at least that’s how he’d felt until recently. Of late there’s been just the slightest amount of doubt that’s crept in. He finds himself wondering if it’s just him who feels this way, this inexplicable urge, and he wishes that she’d be the one reaching for him more often.

“Thanks, Eren,” she murmurs, breaking him out of his intense internal monologue, when she reaches over and brushes a chaste kiss on his cheek. It warms him instantly, immediately making him want more.

He dries up and follows her out of the kitchen, and as she turns into her room, he grabs her wrist and says, “... Mikasa, wait,” and when she flips her head to look at him, he nestles her against the wall and whispers, “... I just wanted to say goodnight,” before kissing her full on the mouth.

For all that he internally complains about her not initiating their kisses enough, she responds beautifully to him, opening her mouth to him, and slipping her tongue inside, gasping when his fingers slip under her shirt, brushing softly above her ribcage. She slides one hand around his neck and the other clutches his shirt, pulling him so close to her, he revels in the feeling of her body pressed against hers.

He doesn’t even know how, or why, because he isn’t thinking when he’s kissing Mikasa, just going with it, running on the sheer feeling of it all, because he just gives into her - but she’s got both arms around his neck and he’s pressing her so firmly against the wall, tongue shameless in its exploration of her mouth, he slips one of his legs between hers.

She likes it, likes the pressure between her legs and she finds herself moving against him, grinding almost, embarrassingly, and she doesn’t even register consciously, until she feels him hard and pressed up against her thigh. She makes an embarrassing noise, something between a gasp and a moan, and suddenly his eyes snap open, all too conscious of their position.

She feels him twitch against her, and she can barely breathe with the excitement of it all, the newness… the feeling. He looks at her like a different person, green eyes heady and searching, holding her in a heated gaze. But in the most crushingly confusing move, he steps back and whispers “good night,” before turning towards his own room.

Quite frankly, she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Any more of that and she would’ve melted into jelly all over the leg that was between her thighs. And instead of pursuing that intense, boneless feeling, she finds herself catching her breath alone in the hallway with a confoundingly novel ache between her legs.

…

He watches her at the tennis court the next day; he drags Armin with him.

He’s never cared much for the game itself, only knows the basic rules because Mikasa’s been playing for years. She has a practice match today, against Jean, and he’d claimed he’d only wanted to see ‘his girl’ crush that horse face to the ground.

But the more he sits next to Eren, the more Armin feels decidedly uncomfortable. “Oi, Eren,” he says, when he’s fairly certain he’s had enough. Eren looks at him annoyed for being distracted from the game. “... What?”

Armin pinches the bridge of his nose before speaking, because how does he say this politely? “... You’re staring.”

“Huh?”

“Don’t huh me! You’re literally ogling her,” he hisses under his breath, “... it’s embarrassing, so please stop.”

He feels his face burn as he splutters, “I, I’m just watching the-,” he’s quite literally red by this point, “... Armin, what the fuck?” He just wants to hide, and so he hides his face in his hands.

He was right, he was staring, and he knew this because his mind had memorized the way she looked in that outfit, white tank top low cut and body hugging and giving him an excellent view as she moved. And he didn’t even want to comment on the way those shorts hugged her curves and how it flowed perfectly into her long, glorious legs.

If he could kick himself he would.

“What’s going on with you?” Armin asks, after he gives Eren a moment to recover from absolute mortification. Hesitating, he says, “... This isn’t the first time I’ve caught you staring at her like this recently.”

He looks at Armin helplessly, because he doesn’t know how to put it into words. “You can talk to me,” Armin coaxes him, “... you do embarrassing shit in front of me all the time anyway,” he supplies helpfully.

There’s conflict in his green eyes as he considers just how to say it, if he wants to at all. He’s still not a hundred per cent over the fact that Armin was Mikasa’s first kiss and if anyone could hold a (pointless) grudge it was Eren.

“However if you still choose to not talk to me about Mikasa because you are hung up over a stupid drunk kiss, then that’s completely fine with me too,” Armin says, reading Eren’s mind cheerfully.

“... You didn’t have to bring it up,” he says sullenly. Armin rolls his eyes. “... You’re thinking about it anyway, so I might as well talk about it.” He’s known him far too long to not understand the very simplistic nature of Eren’s thought processes.

“... I can’t stop looking at her,” he confesses, deciding to gloss over the discomfort of their kiss and focus on the main problem instead. “I hadn’t noticed,” Armin quips dryly, and Eren glares at him - so much for ‘ You can talk to me, Eren.’

“I’m losing my mind here, Armin,” trust Eren to always be dramatic, without fail, “... You can make fun of me all you want, but everytime I look at her, I,” he inhales sharply. “... God, I feel disgusting. It’s Mikasa for fuck’s sake.”

And It’s Mikasa whom his friend had always been slightly unhinged for, but Armin thinks better of saying this.

“... I feel like I just don't know how to look at her respectfully anymore,” and he says

this almost choked, so distressed, that Armin tries very very hard to suppress a laugh.

…

She wishes she hadn’t done it.

In a rare moment of weakness that she now regrets, she had given into Sasha’s ever curious inquisitions into her love life. And by love life here, Sasha was explicitly digging for the good stuff.

“Eh?!?”

Mikasa waits patiently for Sasha to return from her high pitched look of disbelief.

“... What do you mean you haven’t slept together yet?” Sasha asks, a bit calmer this time, but still urgently distressed about the matter.

“We just… haven’t,” Mikasa explains rather unsatisfyingly.

“So… do you like, want to wait or something? I thought you’ve been in love with him since forever…”

No matter how much she’s accepted that fact herself, it still makes her blush when she hears it out loud. “... It’s not like, I want to, um, wait or anything,” she confesses. Because she’s found herself thinking of the same thing every night since the time Eren had her against the wall, pinned against him and his hardness. It’s almost like it created a monster out of her, a monstrous desire that has her eyeing him out the corner of her eye whenever she gets the chance. It makes her seek him out more often, seek him out after his workout, after his shower, innocently, by accident of course, and she’s ashamed of herself.

“... You just need to jump him,” Sasha says, with the utmost seriousness. Like she knew anything at all on this subject. “And boy have I got the perfect thing to help you.”

…

Mikasa Ackerman is a huge fan of Marie Kondo. It was one of the curiously annoying yet cute things about her that Eren has an impressively large list of.

She’s watched the Netflix show more times than he can count, follows her on Youtube, and once he’d seen her pray to her room or some shit before she started cleaning. It mystifies him, and he doesn’t care enough to understand more so he just goes along with it.

Today she’s decided she has way too many clothes and she will only keep what “sparks joy” in her, so she’s strewn out her entire closet and demanded in the sweetest way that he helps her with her mission.

(She throws in the offer of trying out all her outfits before she throws them out, and Eren is horny for a fashion show or the moments in between so he readily agrees)

“... I’m not sure about this one,” she says, eyeing herself in the green dress critically.

Eren’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “... You’re kidding, you look like a fucking goddess, Mikasa.”

She blushes happily with the compliment, but Eren isn’t exaggerating. It’s a slinky strapless number which was incredibly short. And it had a slit. According to Eren, the slit could not be emphasized enough.

“... Your legs look incredible,” he says, providing her the only decent compliment he can muster. The rest he does his best to convey with eyes.

“... It just doesn’t feel like something I wear usually, you know… so I don’t know if it sparks joy...”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes, “Well, you should wear it. C’mere let me help you spark some joy,” he says, playfully pulling her down into the pile of clothes that made a poofy bed on the floor.

She giggles, settling over him happily, and for a moment his sappy little heart feels like it’s going to explode. He’s pretty sure her giggle is his most favourite sound in the whole world.

“... You’re insane,” he breathes, relishing in the way she feels on top of him, his hands sliding up her legs and resting just beneath the hem of her dress (just beneath her ass). She kisses him sweetly, tongue flicking gently on his lip and making him groan softly. His hands brush past her ass, caressing ever so softly as they come to rest on the small of her back.

She deepens the kiss, and he grabs her hips roughly, angling her mouth onto his in a way that suits him, gives him access and he sighs into her mouth. The view of her on top of him, is unparalleled, her thighs around his hips and her chest heaving temptingly with her harsh breathing. He closes his eyes and captures her mouth again before he makes a fool of himself in front of her again.

But she has her hands in his hair, and she’s pressing down, grinding down against his crotch, and he can feel himself pulse at every brush of contact, and he groans knowing fully well that there’s no way she can’t feel his length brush against her legs.

He doesn’t want to stop, or run away, because he’s ridiculously turned on at this point, and unwilling to let go of her, so he simply turns her around and pins her beneath him, taking advantage of the way she squeals, to slip his tongue into her mouth and taste her.

It’s so tempting having her beneath him like this, so he gives in and slips his leg between hers again, eager to have her rub against him like she did that day, with the faintest hint of a moan, like he hasn’t been able to forget.

His fingers entwine with hers and he stretches them above her head, wanting so much to just kiss her senseless, but they collide with a cardboard box and he spares a glance at it, in annoyance.

Until he squints and actually sees what it is. The label alone makes him blush, not to mention the contents that he could clearly see under the transparent plastic covering.

Mikasa looks up, dazed and a little bit disoriented from what was possibly the most intense make out session she had ever experienced. “... Eren?”

“Babe,” he rasps, choked, “... are you trying to tell me something?”

She follows his line of sight, and wants to hide, wants to die, wants to erase this moment from her very existence.

Her Sensual Pleasure kit, he reads, his mind effectively going numb as he comprehends the contents: a vibrator, a blindfold, some pink fuzzy handcuffs and what looks like a generous bottle of lube.

Somehow even though she forgot about this ridiculous thing, having stuffed it into her closet to forget all about the ridiculousness on her friend’s face when she gave it to her, it seems to have stumbled out into the light of day at the worst possible moment.

If she could murder Sasha and get away with it, she would.

“... I-It’s not what you think, Eren,” she mumbles, cheeks red and panicking, even though she has absolutely no idea what she wants him to think.

“I assure you,” he manages, “... I’m not really thinking right now, Mikasa.” Sure enough his mind had somewhat short circuited, barely able to handle the pressure of having his extremely sexy girlfriend beneath him and somehow simultaneously having discovered what appeared to be her sextoys .

Gingerly, he reaches for it, and he almost gasps, because the box had been opened and fiddled with. “Did you actually…”

He looks at her face, and it’s the colour of a tomato by this point, teeth biting her lower lip nervously, and he doesn’t know whether to laugh or if he is even more turned on.

“The vibrator, Mikasa, did you…?” His voice is so hoarse just imagining, it superseded any fantasies he’s had up until this point. “... Eren,” she whines, embarrassed, hiding her face in her hands.

“Please for the love of god, Mikasa, please just tell me, baby,” he’s pleading because he really needs to know at this point. He needs to know if he’s been going to bed in the room besides her without the potent knowledge that she’s been using this to relieve herself at night.

When she nods, just ever so imperceptibly, he’s pretty sure he’s going to combust. “... What did you think of when you were using it?” His voice sounds like a stranger’s.

She looks conflicted, looks unbelievably embarrassed, but he’s pretty sure he isn’t imagining it when he hears the faintest whisper from her saying, “... you.”

But that isn’t going to cut it, because he’s spent countless nights with a raging boner and raging guilt, as he jerked off to the most tantalizing moments he’s had with her… and he barely ever manages to look her in the eye the next morning. So he has to, no, he needs to know that he hasn’t been the only one in this absolutely ridiculous situation.

He kisses her hard, teeth grazing hers, mouth eager and greedy, and she responds to him with equal fervour. His head drops to her shoulder as he kisses her bare collarbone. “... If you knew how many times I’ve touched myself thinking of you, you wouldn’t be able to look at me the same again.”

His words are a deep, throaty confession that he whispers on her skin, and it brings a tingle down to her spine and all the way to her toes. She thrusts her chest upwards against him subconsciously.

“... I think of you too, you know… all the time,” she confesses, forgetting the very meaning of inhibition. It’s hard to remember it when he looks at her that way, heat burning from his verdant eyes, his grip firm against her hips. She doesn’t want to; doesn’t need it, if it means she can be this close to him.

“... Do you think you can show me?” he whispers, barely thinking through his requests through his lust-filled haze.

He sees her hesitating, contemplating, and he finds himself praying as his fingers inch up the dress and dig into the curves of her ass, lips delicate against the tops of her breasts.

“Only if you show me how you touch yourself,” she murmurs, and he can feel himself twitch in excitement.

She backs up against her bedpost and slips out of her panties, and Eren is absolutely, positively certain, he has never seen anything more appealing than when she slowly, deliberately, hikes up that beautiful green dress and spreads her legs.

He’s so lost in the sight before him, he forgets what he’s promised until she says, steel eyes determined, challenging him almost, “... your turn, Eren.”

He shucks his pants off gracelessly, he couldn’t make it look as artful as she does even if he tried, but he’s happy to be free of the restrictive material as he springs heavy and erect at the sight of her. “... Could you um, pass me the lube,” he asks, and she does, but not before squeezing some onto her own hand.

It’s hypnotic how she rubs it into herself, wet, and pretty and pink, and he jerks into his hand, slick and wanting, as he whispers, “... God, you’re beautiful.”

His words only serve to enhance the needy pressure between her legs, the tingling feeling that her slow circular motions were only making worse. She picks up the vibrator and turns it on, pressing it to her nub, the way she’s done a few lonely nights by herself, wishing it was him against her skin.

It’s different this time, because even though it’s her and the silicone toy, Eren’s gaze is like liquid fire on her skin, dark and licentious, and almost greedy. She throws her head back, shivering with pleasure and gasping.

“... What did you think of when you played with yourself?” He asks again, and this time she knows he wants a more specific answer.

“Your fingers,” she mumbles, and she finds the pleasure makes her startlingly more honest. He could ask anything of her, and she would tell him.

The idea, the thought of it, makes him twitch happily in his hand, and he jerks erratically, feeling an unbelievable urge come over him. “... Did you get wet thinking of my fingers on you, Mikasa?”

“Mm-hmm,” she nods, blushing prettily, high off the vibrating sensations. Without planning to, he crawls over between her legs and kisses her deeply, murmuring on her lips, “... then let me touch you, baby.”

It was her who was being stimulated, but he nearly groans into her hair at the feeling of her soft wetness, the way it feels against his fingers, the way her arousal coats him so eagerly.

“... I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” he murmurs hoarsely, rubbing delicate circles across her nub, diligently favouring the area she had favoured mere moments ago. “Then why didn’t you,” she gasps at the last syllable, at the sudden intrusion of his long finger having slid deep inside her.

“... Sorry,” he says, sounding far too turned on to be sorry, “... you’re so wet, Mikasa.” He’s in awe, almost reverent of how warm she is, how easy.

She hangs on to his neck now, teeth grazing his neck, whispering, “... I want you, Eren.” Her breath is warm and damp and he’s unmistakably certain of what she asks.

“... Are you sure?” He asks, panting, hoping to god she’s sure, because he’s so ready, he’s been ready for a long time now, and he can barely control himself from leaking onto his own hand, when she says, “Yes.”

He makes sure she’s comfortable, or as comfortable as she can be on top of her clothes, and he commits everything to memory, the way she looks beneath him, the way her breasts heave when he pulls off the entirety of that dress, the way her nipples stiffen against his warm kisses. “... Please,” she whimpers, when he takes his time with her, taking the peaks of her breasts into her mouth and teasing ever so slightly with his teeth.

“... I can’t help it,” he rasps, “I want to touch you everywhere, you’re so pretty, babe, I,” -

He chokes, cut off, by the feeling of her delicate hands circling around him, pumping slowly as she guides him to her entrance. “Shit, Mikasa,” he curses, closing his eyes as he feels the sensation of her warmth against his tip.

It’s not his first time, but he feels like a stumbling virgin, murmuring desperate things as he feels her sheathe him completely, pausing only to pay attention to her comfort. Barely coherent, he asks, “... you okay?” She nods quietly, and his eyebrows furrow, looking at her questioningly. “Feels… so full,” she manages, with a feeble groan, and he can’t help but grin at how irresistible she is.

“... That’s because I’m supposed to fill you up, babe,” he whispers, not caring how far gone he is, because he slides out just a little only to spread her legs for him again, and slide back in. He tests the rhythm carefully, watching her expressions for any sign of discomfort, but the way she squeezes her eyes, the way she throws her head back with a gasp, just makes him lose whatever little control he had.

“Please tell me if I need to go slower,” he tells her, but judging from her reaction, from her moans, she only seemed to be egging him on.

It’s too much, he thinks, too much for him to possibly handle, not with the way she bucks her hips, and definitely not with the way she clenches needily around him.

And in a moment that he’ll probably never live down, he groans, “Fuck, babe, I’m going to,” - barely realizing with some consciousness to pull out of her tight, wet, core, and spills onto her stomach.

Mikasa’s never seen him make a face like that.

When he opens his eyes, she’s looking at him in wonder. And he’s looking at the mess he’s made on her stomach, and even though a small part of him only feels arousal at the sight of that, today he just feels like a massive asshole. “Shit,” he curses, not happy with how this played out at all. He reaches for the panties she’d so easily discarded and mops up his sticky release, mumbling, “... God, I’m so sorry, Mikasa. This was your first time, I can’t even believe,” -

“Eren,” she interrupts, because she doesn’t have time for this, his self-derision can come later. “... I, um…,” she clenches her thighs together, and he suddenly realizes that he hadn’t yet completely fucked shit up, he could still make her feel good, and that’s all he wanted.

He settles himself between her legs and spreads her folds open for him, feeling a familiar twitch at the pretty sigh in front of him. “I’ll take care of you, baby,” he whispers earnestly, before she feels his mouth on her folds. He kisses her like how he kisses her lips, like he wants to consume her, and if she thought it felt good against her own mouth, it felt only a million times better down there. He’s generous with his tongue, probing circling, sending her into a frenzy that only he could have managed.

She threads her fingers into his hair, gasping his name, prettily, holding on to him as she rides wave after wave of pleasure against his tongue.

When he lifts himself up and looks at her, he grins, his mouth shining because of her juices, and she closes her eyes swearing to herself that she will never forget that sight.

He collapses next to her, this time of a happier countenance because somewhere in his mind he’s judged this to be a fair exchange, and because Mikasa knows him so well, she can’t help but giggle.

“I’m not usually like this,” he asserts, once he’s caught his breath, and she’s barely managed to catch hers. She raises an eyebrow at him, amused. Trust Eren to be bothered about the unnecessary mechanics of his ego, barely minutes after their first time. “... I swear, next time I’m not going to let you go unless you have at least three orgasms. Minimum.”

“I guess I’ll have to hold you to it, Eren,” she murmurs, chuckling. “And before you freak out about the other thing; I’m on birth control, so don’t worry.” There’s silence, remarkably guilty silence, because he hadn’t thought about it, and that’s ridiculous because he’d never done it without a condom before, and if he ever feels like the biggest idiot on the planet, it’s at this moment.

“... I fucking love you, Mikasa,” he says sincerely, thanking the gods and this insane goddess right beside him, and this time she can’t help but laugh out loud.

a/n: edit: two whole weeks after posting ao3, i finally got around to putting this on tumblr.

to all those who have been on this journey with me, thank you so much. it's been so fun with these guys in the hsy verse.

i can't believe the story is over; i'm not ready to let go. going forward i may or may not right 3 more chapters each focusing on armin, historia, and jean respectively. i'm still mulling over it :)

i've recently been made aware that some people who read my stories are minors and i should be more mindful. so the note below -

i'd just like to clarify that it's fairly normal to be 18 yo in senior year of high school (at least where i'm from), which is when this last chapter takes place, so i did not feel the need to write age anywhere. i just want to clarify this; im no one to lecture any body on the appropriate age to be sexually active - as long as the person who you're with treats you respectfully and honours your consent. and respect your own limits and body.

HOWEVER I WILL ABSOLUTELY TAKE THIS MOMENT TO LECTURE YOU ON THE USE OF BIRTH CONTROL - PLEASE USE CONDOMS. please discuss birth control or std prevention with a sexual partner. DO NOT BE LIKE EREN AND FORGET JEEZUS. i'm 27 when i'm writing this so the last scene was just meant to be funny, especially his unbelievable sigh of relief when he finds out she had the foresight to be careful.

anyway, see ya and if it might interest you pls check out my mikasa stripper au ;) i'm very excited about it.

#eremika #liquorisce fanfiction #eremika smut #eren jaeger #mikasa ackerman #high school years

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agoldengalaxy · 3 years

Text

What Love Is

read on Ao3

Kyoko wakes up in the middle of the night to an empty bed. Naturally, she has a plethora of guesses as to where Makoto can be, but only one that truly makes sense to her. So she goes to check on him.

Kyoko was slowly getting used to waking up beside someone else. It had been terribly awkward and foreign at first, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t understand the appeal of sleeping beside a loved one.

Because of this, it was now rather strange to be alone.

She wasn’t exactly sure what woke her, but there was something quite clear to her even before she opened her eyes; the other side of the bed was unoccupied. Her arm was outstretched, but it lay across cold sheets rather than a warm chest. She opened bleary eyes, blinking as she took in the dark room. Based on the curtains covering the windows, she could tell it was still late, or maybe just early morning. The house was quiet, and she was alone.

Pushing herself to sit up, she rubbed at her eyes, the blanket dropping from her chest and into her lap. There was no use just sitting there and wondering, so she tossed the blankets aside and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet touching the cold floor. A shiver ran down her spine, but she walked away from the warm bed anyway, pulling one of Makoto’s jackets closer to her body.

Out of their shared bedroom, she glanced down the hallway to the right. The bathroom door wasn’t closed. It had been one of her least likely guesses, but a possibility, nonetheless. Being a detective meant she could imagine many different possibilities when a mystery presented itself. Though this was certainly less of a mystery than what she normally dealt with.

She walked on the balls of her feet, mostly out of habit, keeping her steps quiet against the old wood floor as she headed down the hallway. Her eyes slowly began adjusting to the dark as her mind adjusted to consciousness, becoming more alert the more steps she took. Reaching the end of the hallway proved her first hunch to be correct.

The small, cozy living room was normally dark at this time of night, but the curtains against the window were drawn back, allowing stray beams of moonlight to stream into the room. At first glance, it would seem that the room was empty and that someone had simply just forgotten to draw the curtains, but out of habit, Kyoko always made sure to view things as thoroughly as she was able. And to the side of the couch, peeking just above one of the armrests, was a single cowlick that never stayed down, no matter what.

Quietly, she walked around the couch, making her steps just audible enough so that she would not startle him. Even as she entered the space she knew he would be able to see through the corner of his eye, he didn’t look at her. He was sitting on the floor against the armrest of the couch, knees to his chest, and a blanket pulled around his shoulders. Brown eyes that normally held warmth were dull and glazed, probably staring at nothing in particular despite his head tilted just slightly upward, giving the impression he might have just been looking out the window.

She knew better. She knew him too well.

She would be lying if she said the sight didn’t pull at her heart. Makoto Naegi had been an enigma, the one to defrost her icy heart, and ever since, she had become almost terrifyingly soft. Memories were certainly still hazy, but no one had ever had an effect of her like he had. He was the Ultimate Hope for a reason; and maybe, for that reason, it was difficult to remember sometimes that he was still young. They both were. And no matter how many times she would deny it outwardly, their time at Hope’s Peak had had a terrible effect on both of them. She...was just better at hiding it, though Makoto always worried about her no matter what, even if he couldn’t see the feelings she kept locked inside, while his were put on display for all to see. They were complete opposites, and she loved him more than anything else in the world.

That still scared her, but she knew better than to push him away. Pushing him away had led to more disaster than she anticipated. So she learned from her mistakes, and allowing herself to be open to love and receiving it in return had proven to be a lot...nicer than she’d previously thought.

Slowly, she stepped closer, crouching beside him. “Makoto.” The second her gloved hand touched his shoulder, he gasped, shuddering and deep, blinking glaze out of his eyes to try and focus onto Kyoko’s steady gaze.

It seemed, for a moment, he forgot to breathe; and then he exhaled slowly, managing a shy smile. It was almost as if he had returned back to his normal self right away. “Ah - I’m sorry, um...did I wake you? I tried to be quiet when I got up…”

Two thoughts immediately came to mind; one, even though he was always open, he tried to keep his more serious emotions at bay, which never could slip past her even though he tried each time. And two, he most likely had no idea how long he’d been sitting there and staring into space. She had a feeling that he’d been sitting there long before she came back to consciousness.

“No, you didn’t wake me up,” she replied, slowly removing her hand from his shoulder. She had no idea what to say at first. It wasn’t like she didn’t know what he was doing here; it wouldn’t take the Ultimate Detective to figure it out. Given that it was the middle of the night and he was awake and lost in thought, it could only have been a nightmare.

They stared at each other for a few moments in that silence while she thought about it. Makoto’s shy smile didn’t waver as he slowly outstretched the arm closest to her, allowing her room to sit next to him around the blanket. “Wanna join me?”

Despite herself, and despite the situation, she couldn’t help but close her eyes for a moment, a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. She opened her eyes and slid in to sit beside him, pulling her side of the blanket over her shoulder. As their shoulders touched, she could feel him relax, and she couldn’t help but look over. He had returned his gaze toward the window, and in the moonlight she noticed the bags under his eyes and the way he blinked just a little slower than usual. So he was exhausted.

“...Do you want to talk about it?” This, of course, was the most logical course of action in this scenario. She kept her steady gaze on him, seeing the surprise line his features as he looked back at her, before being replaced by another small smile. She knew he knew he couldn’t fool her, though he still tried. That was just who he was. But after everything he’d done to help her, she thought it was only fair to, little by little, return the favor.

“Guess I can’t hide it from you, huh. I should know better by now.” So her guess had been proven to be right. There were a few moments of quiet which he was most likely using to gather his thoughts, eyes closed as he breathed in and out. Then he opened them again, letting out a dry laugh. “It’s kind of stupid.”

She shook her head. “Just tell me.”

He paused, then nodded, returning his gaze to the window with a sad smile, pulling his knees just a little closer to his chest. “I guess it was because I was thinking about it the other day, but I dreamed...it felt like we were back at Hope’s Peak.” His voice was soft and brittle. “I saw everyone again, and...all the bodies, the executions. All of it. It’s burned into my brain and I had to watch it all again.” He let out a shaky laugh this time. “You’d think after all this time it wouldn’t get to me as much.”

She couldn’t say she was surprised. Even while her memory had been hazy, seeing bodies hadn’t been a shock to her. But to Makoto, and mostly everyone else in their class, it had been. He had been just a normal boy before entering Hope’s Peak Academy. Thanks to Junko Enoshima, that had all changed.

Sighing, she kept her gaze on him. “Makoto, don’t you remember what you told me?”

“Huh?”

“You told me you would never get over their deaths. That you would ‘always carry them with you.’ It doesn’t matter how much time has passed.” She looked toward the window. “They were your... our friends, and they were driven to do terrible things for everyone else’s own filthy enjoyment.” That first night, when he’d said all that to her, it had been the first time she’d realized he was special. An enigma, and one to be wary of. She could almost laugh; if her past self saw where she was now, cuddled up next to that boy in the middle of the night, she wasn’t sure what she would do.

Leaning his head back against the armrest, Makoto smiled a little to himself. “Yeah, I did say that. I remember you telling me I was strong before I shouted at you.” He glanced back to her, some warmth returning to his eyes. She always loved the way he looked at her, as if she was the only woman in the world. It was stupid to think that way, or at least, she used to think that. Love...it wasn’t as terrible as she’d thought.

Kyoko reached for one of his hands, and he slowly let go of his knees, tucking them underneath himself instead. Their fingers intertwined. “You are strong. I still stand by that.”

Pink splashed across his cheeks; it wasn’t often she outright complimented him, but it wasn’t because she didn’t want to. It was more...she felt strange doing so. Perhaps one day she’d be able to. After all, Makoto had that certain effect on her.

“You know…” he yawned into his free hand, tired gaze shifting from the window to her. “There was one good thing about our time at Hope’s Peak.”

“Is that so?” she asked, raising a brow. “And what may that be?”

He smiled, tilting his head back to look up at the moon. “It brought me to you, of course. If anything, I’m grateful for that.”

Now it was her turn to blush. Damn Makoto, always saying things to throw her off. Even more unfortunate was that she had no response. It wasn’t as easy to fluster him anymore, not since they’d actually begun dating, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like to try. And now here he was, doing it to her. All she could do was scoff lightly, though it held no indignation because a smile gave her away. Dammit. She squeezed his hand instead of saying anything, and that seemed to suffice for him. He’d always been good at reading between the lines when it came to emotion, and now was certainly no exception.

An easy silence engulfed them as they both stared up at the moon. Based on its position in the sky, she could deduce that it was nearing two or three in the morning. There wasn’t much else to be said, so they didn’t. Besides, in a situation like this, she’d learned that just being there was enough. Speaking wasn’t always necessary.

Still, it was getting late. She was grateful she had woken up, even though she was certain he would have been fine on his own. Being someone’s girlfriend meant one had to care, and she certainly cared a whole lot more than she ever meant to. But was it really such a bad thing? She’d always been terrified of losing things; losing people like how she had lost her father. Makoto had taught her a lot of things; trust, hope, faith. He taught her how to no longer be afraid of these things. Most importantly, though, he allowed her to learn how to love again.

As she was beginning to think they should head back to bed, something caught the corner of her eye. Glancing to the side, she noticed his eyes were closed, chin dipping down toward his chest. His hand was limp in hers.

She found herself staring fondly for a few moments. He was so unbelievably stubborn, and though it could be infuriating, it was also endearing. The paradox was just fitting for a mystery like Makoto Naegi.

A part of her knew she ought to nudge him, to drag him back to bed with her so they could get some proper rest. But looking at him now, seeing the bags under his eyes in the shadow of moonlight, she didn’t have the heart to do it. He’d softened her in the way no one else had. Was that what love was? Well, she wasn’t sure if it was the same for everyone, but that was what it was to her, at least.

Love, to Kyoko, was Makoto.

She reached up, gently placing her hand on the opposite side of his head, guiding it to rest on her shoulder. He mumbled something under his breath, nuzzling his head closer, and then lay still. Now that she was alone, she smiled to herself as she pulled the blanket more snugly around him, gently placing a kiss to the top of his head. Leaning her head back against the armrest, her eyes took in the moon one more time.

His breaths, soft and even against her collarbone, were a comfort she never knew she wanted. And as she closed her eyes, her tired brain decided to voice one last thought. “I love you.”

As she drifted, though, she could have sworn she heard a mumbled response that sounded a lot like, “I love you, too.”

#danganronpa #dangan ronpa #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #naegiri #dr1 #this is like #the sweetest thing I think I've ever written #im sorry if you vomit #I just #love them #the character development #it's everything #ugh #anyway enjoy #my writing #agoldengalaxy #my post

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but-first--tea · 4 years

Text

LFRP: Omori Kaya

THE BASICS

Full name: Omori Kaya

Pronunciation: Oh-Moh-Ree Kay-Uh (Omori is her surname, Kaya is her given name)

Nicknames: n/a

Height: 5'6" (quite tall for a midlander hyur)

Age: “A lady never reveals her age.” (adult)

Nameday: 32nd Sun of the 3rd Astral Moon

Languages: Doman, Common

Occupation: Not getting caught.

Current Residence: "Traveling abroad.“ (Basically living a tourist’s life in Eorzea, hoping to never be called out as the fraud she is. She’ll spend time as someone’s guest here, staying in a hotel elsewhere the next month, etc…)

Relationship Status: While she has never actually been married, the identity of the woman she pretends to be is a young widow and heiress. (Single)

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS

Hair color: Black

Eye color: Pale, silvery grey

Skin tone: Fair

Body type: Slender, athletic but not in an obvious way.

Scars: none

Accent: Doman

Posture

Poised, athletic– though she’s no master shinobi, she is her mother’s daughter. Her training began at the age of four, and it’s still evident in the way she moves, observes, and behaves. Others who have trained would likely notice it easily. She carries herself with quiet dignity, and moves (or refuses to) deliberately, as if she expects each action to be read for significance, and takes great care not to reveal too much unintentionally. Though, in the very rare instances when she lets down her guard, this facade can fade away, revealing that she’s still a girl who can be amused, and charmed, and is easily mesmerized by beautiful places and things.

Accessories

She’s almost never seen without jewelry, though all of it is merely decorative– the trappings of the life she’s stepped into. None of it is personal, or carries meaning beyond appearing as she’s expected to.

Apparel

Her taste ranges from the classically dramatic to the outright exotic- not out of a sense of vanity, but in an appreciation of what is more or less wearable art. She most frequently wears black and white, though she also favors blue and occasionally red. In keeping with her heritage, she tends toward modesty in her dress. Of course, most of these clothes once belonged to a woman whose identity she has stolen, and she’s begun to add Eorzean fashions to her wardrobe to stand out less. The more she blends in, the fewer questions about her past she needs to dodge...

CHILDHOOD

Place of Birth: Doma

Siblings: none she knows of

Parents: The samurai Masanari and an Imperial Shadow named Harue, though Kaya has never known her biological father, as she was still less than a year old when he disappeared.

Upbringing: Raised initially by her mother, and later trained by grandmother once her affinity for magic became apparent. (More details can be found in her character history.)

PERSONAL

Personality

Outwardly, she is polite and mysterious, with a demeanor ranging from businesslike toward strangers, to an unexpected sort of mischievous and rebellious streak around the rare soul she’s begun to feel comfortable around. She’s evasive and distant. She rarely connects with others easily, which leads to most people assuming she’s either very shy, or rather snobbish, at first impression. She doesn’t trust easily, isn’t prone to showing any emotion in public if she can avoid it, and is often the one who, from an outward appearance, seems to be just another quiet wallflower enjoying the view.

Beneath the surface, however, she feels everything perhaps far too much, watches everyone with the wariness of someone who knows all too well what people are capable of, and deeply craves the connections to others she doesn’t seem to be able to form easily. She’s always searching for the few who can see the world the way she does- as something equally beautiful as it is deadly, meant to be lived in, not just endured. She’s a powder keg of passions always kept under a tight lid, hidden away for safe keeping.

Still, she is difficult to anger, and it’s a cold anger when it happens. She knows that engaging in violence and revealing her training would likely break character entirely, and being discovered as a fraud wouldn’t end well for her. As a result, she’ll try to think her way out of any situation, instead.

Motivations/Goals

If asked what she wants more than anything else in the world, she’d probably say to be able to do what she wanted, not what she was told, or allowed, or expected to. She craves freedom in all its definitions, but nearly always denies it to herself out of fear or pragmatism. While playing the role of a young, noble heiress she feels the restraints of her gilded cage all too keenly. She must behave in the way one raised to the role would be expected to. As a result, she finds small ways to rebel that aren’t likely to be noticed. Her fierce and defiant nature, thus repressed, will see her doing seemingly pointless things like rearranging the furniture in hotel rooms, stealing small items she could easily afford, or finding ways to secretly get even with those who have behaved poorly.

Financial Status

Ostensibly wealthy, though not one gil of it was ever truly hers. Still, she feels no guilt in obtaining the Omori family’s accounts considering they would have otherwise been seized by the Garlean government following Lord Omori’s assassination.

She has been quietly seeking a way to invest ‘her’ money in a way that would divorce it from her stolen inheritance, make it more truly hers, and greatly reduce the risk of losing everything should her false identity be uncovered.

Weapons

While she was raised to the blade and bow for most of her childhood, she hides her training and doesn’t carry a weapon openly, if at all. If cornered and forced to defend herself, she’d mostly likely attempt to disarm an opponent and steal theirs, or improvise.

Vices

Seemingly none, as she has striven to present herself as a woman of proper graces. However, she is prone to self-indulgence and spending far too much gil merely because she can, which she considers a vice in herself and tries to resist.

Likes

People who are intelligent, interesting, vibrantly passionate and alive. Watching people do things that require specialized skill, especially combat training or constructing something.

Constructive debate and interesting challenge. Trying/learning new things.

Music, dancing. She’s often wished she could play an instrument, but has never learned to.

Nature, gardens, fireflies, birds, waterfalls, the ocean/seaside. Traveling to anywhere with a spectacular view or vibrant culture. Learning about said cultures.

Exotic spiced foods or just about anything she hasn’t tasted before that doesn’t look absolutely disgusting. Tea. Fruits, chocolate, and spiced cider or tea. Have I mentioned tea?

Unusual crystals and/or gemstones. While she’s generally unfazed by wealth or status, she appears to be positively mesmerized by sparklies.

Dislikes

Politics, rumor mongering, cattiness, insults, and general poor behavior.

People who think getting drunk is the best kind of fun to be had.

Addictive drugs, and those who sell them.

Being forced to do anything, feeling not in control over her own life.

Overly objectifying unwanted attention, awkward social situations/obligations/expectations.

Being cold, biting insects.

Hobbies

Reading, especially the arcane.

Learning the history of different places and cultures.

Collecting small, easily transportable items (generally clothing or jewelry) in local styles from each new place she visits.

Pets: None, currently. She once had a magpie as a pet when she was younger, and maintains a fondness for birds of all kinds.

RP HOOKS

She’s looking (quietly) for a way to launder, er... invest her money to gradually eliminate the need to rely on her stolen identity and foreign contacts for access to funds. Have an opportunity?

A trusted lady’s maid, retainer, or guard type to help her maintain appearances.

It’s possible that someone from her past in Doma might recognize her, or perhaps have known the real Omori Kaya.

The woman she is impersonating is an ill-fit for her. She is fierce, independent, and rebellious... the exact opposite of the demure and soft character her stolen identity demands. But, her mother risked everything to secure her new identity, and she won’t cast it off unless forced to. Still, she isn’t perfect. Someone could catch her in a mistake, and become curious...

The Lady Omori Kaya appears elegant, mysterious, ...and wealthy. Potential suitors aren’t unlikely. (Romance is an option, though she’ll be hard to pin down at first, for obvious reasons.)

She has a (stolen) soulstone in her possession, and has been working to unlock its secrets.

Open to brainstorming other connections, past associations, or jumping into -your- existing plot!

OOC

I make my own schedule. I can be available pretty much any time from 8 am to 9pm CST. Sadly, I can rarely do late nights because I need to do that sleeping thing.

OOC communication is a priority for me.

I have been RPing for 20+ years. I am comfortable with both in game or Discord RP, and anything from short, quick posts to multi para. I do this because I enjoy writing!

I am not interested in random ERP outside of a long-term character interaction. I do love writing ships as long as there's strong chemistry between the characters, and both the character and the writer of said character are mature adults. However,I will not consider ships with alt or AU characters, as this is my one and only RP character. (No multi-shipping.)

I prefer a RP style that works with what is plausible within the scope of the lore. I'm open to creativity, as long as it makes sense. I prefer to stay away from void-heavy, AU, inserts from other universes, and anything involving cross-breeding with non-playable races/beings. (These are only my personal preferences, and everyone else is free to do whatever they like!)

Absolutely no: rape, harm to children, or graphic torture.

I do enjoy game content as well, and prefer company over doing so alone! I am currently sitting in my own personal FC house, but would consider joining a real FC if it makes sense for my character.

Confession: I probably spend way too much time decorating virtual houses.

#ffxiv rp #updated character sheet #Omori Kaya #hyur midlander #Doman

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digitaldreams0801 · 4 years

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Alitia Explanation Post

I said I would do this for my other stories, and I’m finally getting around to it. We’re starting off with one of my newer stories, Alitia, which will actually be finishing its first book in two weeks.

What is Alitia?

Alitia is an original fantasy adventure story. It draws inspiration from magical girl content (most notably Winx Club) to create something new. Alitia may be a magical girl story, but don’t let that fool you. This story is aimed at teenagers and young adults above all else. The characters were made by yours truly and four of my friends.

What’s the story about?

Alitia follows the adventures of Luce, a teenaged mercenary who grew up living as a leath, or being without magic. However, Luce goes on a mission with her father, and her magic shows itself in an explosive way. A researcher drags Luce to the exclusive Alitia Academy for Enchantresses, a school for mages, to learn about her magic. There, Luce meets seven other girls her age and is dragged into a fight between two bloodlines that spans five hundred years. Luce and her friends are forced to combat the evil Possession Master, a man with the power to possess people and force them to do his bidding, while still learning how to use their budding magic.

Who are the characters?

The cast of minor characters is rather large, but I’ll be going over the eight main characters here.

Luce Elenes is a mercenary who lived as a leath all her life. She is hired by Sylvia to defeat the Possession Master, which is when her powers show themselves. Luce has dominion over light, but she is struggling to master it. She’s blunt and honest, not outwardly showing much emotion. She’s a talented fighter who wants to understand the truth behind her past, making her curiosity endless.

Iris Pembroke is a knight with power over metal. She fights with a rapier and is experienced in battle. She’s somewhat awkward, not the best at talking to people at first. Iris does have a good heart and wants to make new friends. She’s gullible at times and seems to struggle to notice when people have bad intentions unless it is outwardly spoken. She’s close friends with her home’s princess, Anneliese.

Sophia Greeves is a princess from a land of plants. She can control greenery and nature. Sophia is soft-spoken and shy, a natural introvert. Even if she’s quiet, she holds no ill will towards most others. She dislikes talking about her past, instead choosing to focus on the present. Sophia hates fighting as well but is willing to do so to defeat the Possession Master and save her newfound friends.

Sylvia Loveknot is a sleepy princess attending Alitia to learn how to control her magic over energy. She struggles to stay awake most of the time, and no matter how long she sleeps, she can never seem to gain the energy to keep herself conscious. Sylvia isn’t the best at making new friends after a life of seclusion. She seems to have an unknown connection the Possession Master and his lackeys.

Sana “S.M.” Maestre is disowned nobility from a planet that hates leaths. Since S.M. has some leath blood in her, she was abandoned the year before she set out for Alitia. She can control geothermal conditions, giving her power over earth and fire from there. S.M. is unsociable and blunt, but once she starts to care about someone, she will do everything she can to defend them from harm.

Helena Palpatine is the older princess of Etruna, the land of fire and ice. She can control fire, but she doesn’t have much of a fierce personality. Helena is a quiet rebel who longs for attention above all else, though she doesn’t get it often. She’s somewhat awkward and struggles to make friends, relying greatly on Carys. Helena is incredibly loyal and loves her companions above all else.

Carys Palpatine is the younger princess and heir of Etruna. Since Carys was born with stronger magic than Helena, she was set to rule next. She was spoiled from a young age by their parents, causing them to neglect Helena. Even if she has an attitude, Carys is the only one in her family to legitimately care for Helena, and she goes out of her way to include her lonely sister even at Alitia.

Tanith Satim is an amnesiac who was taken in by the headmistress of Alitia. Everything from more than five years ago is unknown to her despite her photographic memory. Tanith can control air magic, but she seems to lose control of herself when it’s in use. She’s somewhat reclusive, not seeming to trust most people at first. She’s the brains of the group, coming up with strategies out of seemingly nowhere.

The minor characters can be heard from in the book itself (as if I described every significant minor character, this list would more than triple in length).

How is it written?

Alitia is written as a prose story in the third person. When Luce is around, it tends to focus on her perspective since the reader is exploring the world through her eyes. When another major character is present but Luce isn’t, it will narrow in on one of them. If only minor characters are seen, the story doesn’t focus on anyone and remains vague. There will be fifty chapters when the story is completed, each 5,000 words in length.

When is it updated?

Alitia is updated weekly on Tuesday. The series will be on hiatus during January and February of 2020 after the completion of the first book, but it will be continuing again the second week of March with updates on Tuesday for the sequel.

What are the books called?

The first book is called ‘Welcome to Millennia’. The second book has not yet been released, but it will be debuting on March 9, 2020, under the name ‘Crown of Ash’.

Where can I find it?

The series is posted on Wattpad, Fiction Press, and Archive of Our Own. If you would like announcements when the story is updated, I post announcements on my discord to show that the newest chapter has been released.

If you think this story is something you would enjoy, I encourage you to check it out, especially if you enjoy other magical girl media. I’ll be dumping out quite a bit of information here on Tumblr about the universe, so you can catch yourself up on the story before reading my information dumps if you would like. I’ll be tagging Alitia content with a tag for it to make it easy to find. Feel free to ask questions about it as well, and I’ll get to them as soon as I can!

I hope you’ve enjoyed this formal introduction to Alitia! I have three stories left now. The other explanations will be going up under the tag ‘digital’s story explanations’ if you want to find the others later on! Alternative is already on there! Thank you for reading this far if you’re still here! I really do appreciate it!

#digital's story explanations #digitaldreams #ocs #original story #alitia

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tackyflamedecals-blog · 6 years

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Love ((SENDING IN ALL THE LOVE FLUFFS))

Just One Dance || IDW Ultra Magnus/RodimusFor @big-ultra-mags

((IT’S DONE!! *throws this at you all*

A drabble: usually around 100 words.Me, supposed to be writing one: writes a nearly 1,800 word self-indulgent OTP dance because I apparently have no self control. qwq

I’m still accepting these, just they probably won’t all be as long as this because…well, again, OTP bias. X’3

Full thing under the cut, I hope it was worth the wait. I definitely had a blast writing it. ;w;))

Rodimuswatched his crew dance. It was nice for everything to be so calm for once, awhole event that hadn’t gone completely wrong – probably a new Lost Light record.He didn’t remember what all the dancing was for, that detail had gotten a littlefuzzy after a few cubes of highgrade, but whatever it was it was worth itbecause this was pretty fun.

Orit would be if he had a single person to dance with. He’d debated asking Driftbut as he’d walked over to his best friend was just getting Ratchet to agree todance with him. He looked so delighted to have won the old medic over andRodimus couldn’t spoil that, so he’d backed off before either bot could noticehim. He hadn’t been able to come up with any other possible dancing buddiesbefore everyone had either paired off or grouped up, so he contented himselfwith watching. Watching and drinking.

Wellthat wasn’t entirely true. He had come up with one other bot he wanted to dancewith but he wasn’t going to bother wasting his time asking. His optics flickered over to thedoorway where the imposing figure of Ultra Magnus was watching everyone with astern ‘party responsibly’ kind of look. Anytime there was an event, whetherthere was highgrade involved or not, you could always find Magnus keepingcareful, sober watch over proceedings.

Itwas a behaviour he used to find both incredibly annoying and boring. Because itwas. But damn if it wasn’t adorable too. For someone so outwardly stoic hecared deeply about everyone, to the point of missing out on the fun himself tomake sure no one got hurt. It was an incredibly attractive trait and it wasn’tthe only one Rodimus had started noticing about him lately.

Ugh,he was drunk. And bored. And tired. Really, really tired.

Tiredof pretending that he didn’t have feelings.

Whatwas so wrong with taking a chance anyway? His processor offered him as hisframe started moving without his conscious thought towards the doorway Magnuswas standing in. What was the worst Magnus could do; tell him no, give him alook that said ‘not right now Rodimus’or ‘I don’t have time for whatever gameyou’re playing right now Rodimus’? At least he could leave knowing hetried.

“Captain,”Magnus greeted him with a polite nod, his posture relaxing ever so slightly,“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“It’sjust Rodimus, remember, you don’t have to call me Captain,” Magnus’ face saidhe begged to differ but Rodimus refused to be distracted. He tapped the largermech’s arm, giving him his best smile, “Dance with me?”

Theeffect was instantaneous. His posture straightened again, but the frown thatfollowed wasn’t quite as stern as he’d expected. Huh. “Rodimus, it is notappropriate-” the enforcer stopped mid-sentence as Rodimus waved a servo nonchalantly.

“Sureit is. Look, on the bridge while we’re on duty sure it’s not appropriate, butthis is a party. Here I’m just Rodimus and you’re just Ultra Magnus – myfriend, and I wanna dance with you,” he turned to look out at the crowd ofdancing bots, missing the intense look he was getting from his companion. “Andlook everyone’s too drunk or having too much fun to notice what we’re doinganyways.” Turning back, he gave him a playful wink, “One dance and I promiseI’ll add a note to your next report.” Rodimus saw indecision register brieflyon Magnus’ face and Rodimus knew he had him, “I’ll note it with thanks~” Rodimus’ smile only broadened as Magnus glancedquickly around the room before letting out an accepting sigh.

“Verywell, one dance,” the blue and white mech acquiesced, and Rodimus couldn’t hidehis delight as he held out his servo for him to take. His touch was gentleas their servos clasped one another, ever careful not to hurt him. The caredisplayed in that one simple gesture made his spoiler flutter as they walkedtowards the dance floor.

Butwhen he looked up though there was a deep blush spreading across the enforcersface and for once he couldn’t read the emotion there. Which, to Rodimus’ (admittedly intoxicated) mind,could only mean the larger mech was experiencing a whole new world ofuncomfortable and just didn’t know how to express it. It certainly wouldn’t bethe first time.

I should’ve known. This was too much, it was too public, and the thought he wasactually upsetting the other mech just for the sake of a dance made his sparktwist.

Hestopped where they were, a few meters shy of the actual dance floor. Magnusturned around to look at him, confused. “Mags if…if this is making you toouncomfortable we don’t have to,” he couldn’t stop his spoiler drooping, but hecouldn’t upset him, not like this, “I’ll still note your report, with thanksand all.” It was a lifeline, an easy way for him to back out and when Magnus’optics flashed with surprised he felt all but certain he’d take it.

But Magnus surprised him by shaking his helm, “No, I’m fine,” Magnus’ face wasunreadable again, but this time it felt lighter than before, “Thank you though,for your concern.”

“Yousure?” hope flared inside him, following the larger mech the last few feet tothe edge of the dancefloor, “Promise you’re not just doing this for thereports?”

“Ipromise,” the smallest of smiles graced Magnus’ face, a smile that was rapidlymoving to the top of Rodimus’ favourites. Even more so when he felt Magnus’other servo rest on his back, just beneath his spoiler. He couldn’t reach ashigh as the enforcer’s shoulder, so simply let his servo rest as high as hecould comfortably reach on his arm, their other servos remaining joined.

Hewas pleasantly surprised that Magnus knew what position to be in, but when themusic started up again and the larger mech started leading them without prompthe had to work to keep his surprise contained just to a rise of his spoiler.

“Youcan dance,” the purple mech couldn’t stop himself from pointing out, thoroughlyintrigued, “Where did you learn to dance?”

“I…mayhave done a little research and practice beforehand,” Magnus admitted quietly,averting his optics as he swung them both around carefully, obviously stillwatching out for the other bots around them.

“Soyou did want to dance at some point tonight then?” he tilted his helm slightlyto the side, following Magnus’ lead without really concentrating on what theywere doing. He trusted Magnus to keep them from accidentally bumping intoanything. He trusted Magnus more than anyone if he was honest.

“Iwanted to be prepared for the eventuality,” which wasn’t really an answer butthat look was in the other’s optics again so he didn’t press it. After a momentof silence Magnus spoke again, “I thought you’d want to dance with Drift?”There was an edge to that question that Rodimus’ highgrade addled processorcouldn’t quite unpack.

“’CourseI did,” he answered honestly, “But I wanted to dance with you too, I justdidn’t think you’d actually say yes.” And there was another look he didn’tunderstand. How much highgrade had he had again? “Hence the bribery.”

Therewas another long pause between them, before in possibly the quietest and mosttimid voice he’d ever heard come out of him, Magnus responded, “I should confess, I also…wantedto dance with you…I mean I hoped…”

Rodimusfelt the other’s servo’s leave his frame before he could fully comprehend thosewords, the larger mech twirling him around, then he felt a large, strong servoon his back, pulling him close to a large, and very welcoming frame. He was certain by now hisface was as red as his armour used to be, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t,not with his spark practically trying to escape his chassis it was pounding sohard. Their optics met and he swore he could feel that servo moving ever soslightly lower, though it was very hard to concentrate on it.

“Rodimus…”their faceplate’s were barely inches away now, he could lean up just a little,close the gap between them and…

Andjust like that, far too soon, the song was over.

Itwas like a spell had broken between them. Magnus’ servo moved away from hiswaist, and he rather reluctantly took a step back.

“Thank you for the dance. You’re a really good dancer,” Rodimus said quickly,trying to break the sudden awkward tension between them.

“You’rewelcome- I mean thank you, thank you too, that was…fun,” Magnus replied just asquickly, clearly relieved that Rodimus had spoken first.

Hegrinned, spoiler flapping, “Wow pulling out the f-word Mags, I’m flattered.”

Magnusmade a noise that could’ve almost been amusement, or something close to it atleast, “I believe the appropriate response is, ‘you should be’.”

“So you have been listening! And here I thought all my relaxed language lessonswere going to waste,” Magnus gave him a look, one he was almost sure meant ‘of course I was paying attention, I’m alwayspaying attention’ but there was something else in there too, somethingunsaid. They lapsed back into silence again but now it was a companionablesilence at least. One that this time the larger mech broke.

“Ishould return to the door,” and was it just the highgrade or did he look thetiniest bit disappointed?

“Rightand I…actually I should probably go and recharge,” that sounded like the sensiblething to do. Right now he needed somewhere quiet to think…well all of that through. Or at least, heshould recharge and think it all through in the morning when he was sober. Thatwas probably a better plan.

“You’re not staying for the rest of the dance?” he should’ve expected to hearthe surprise that coloured the larger mech’s voice. Usually he was one of the lastbots to leave little get togethers like this, in fact this would probably bethe first party he’d ever left before his highgrade cubes hit double digits.

Rodimusshrugged casually, “Nah, I’m good. C’mon I’ll walk with you to the door.” Hegave his companion two affectionate pats on the arm, turning to head towardsthe door, “When do you plan to disappear?”

“Whenthe most likely troublemakers make themselves scarce,” Magnus was walking athis side in an instant, “And only Whirl is still here.”

“Soyou’ve still got a way to go yet then,” Whirl usually didn’t leave much beforeRodimus would so there were still a few more hours of drinking to go, “I’d saycomm. me if you need any help but I’m not sure what kind of help I’d be.”

“Thethought is appreciated none the less,” Magnus stopped next to the doorway. Hehesitated before adding, “Goodnight, Rodimus.”

“G’nightMags,” with a final smile he took his opportunity to escape, pushing the doorsopen and hurrying away down the hallway. As he moved towards his room, he couldn’thelp but bring the image of Magnus’ face that close back up in his processor.The soft way he’d said his name, the intense look in his optics that made hisspark do spin…

Hewas in deep. Way too deep.

#transformers #rodimus #ultra magnus #magnus #rodimags #mtmte #lost light #idw #ask #bigultramags #wavey did a writing

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filmsandaesthetics · 7 years

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Lucid Dreams and Fake Bruises|| Joe Keery

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Y/N works as a make up artist on the set of Stranger things and can’t help but fall into lust with Joe.

Warning(s): None

Pairing: Joe Keery x Reader

a/n: my first one shot on this account!!!

His old faded jeans

One layer

your floral embroidered jacket

Two layers

It could only be a few more till you lost count. As the mix of both of your clothes piled messily on the floor, the fluttering feeling in your chest buried itself deeper and deeper. The lighting in the room was dimmed almost to the point of being completely pitch black, but that didn't matter because you could tell it was him staring down at you. His soft caramel eyes burrowing into your heart.

However, it didn't take long till you heard it again. That damn noise, the loud blare of your alarm. You tried to fight it as best you could, but you felt this universe slowly fading away from you. His skin turned to mist in grip and his eyes slowly faded from your vision.

You awoke with a start to the lovely noise of your 5:30am alarm. You had to be on set relatively early today, hence the extremely crude awakening. Apparently it was supposed to rain later in the day and that conflicted with a scene the crew was planning to shoot. You decided you could probably sneak in another fifteen minutes of sleep before you started receiving texts from the crew questioning your whereabouts.

You didn't mind your job, it really wasn't too grueling apart from the lengthy hours. Ever since you could remember you'd been fighting tooth and nail to land a gig as solid as the one you had with Netflix productions. After a few years of viciously fighting for a distinguished job in make up arts , you finally landed the position of main makeup artist on the production crew of Stranger Things. You mainly were assigned to the touch ups of the primary characters, which meant you actually spent a lot of your shift babysitting. Despite the fact that the kids were great and genuinely very mature for their age, they were still kids. Externally you pretended to be peeved by their antics but you honestly grew to love the little trouble makers.

The kids weren't really your main problem on the job, your true struggles came into tuition with the older cast members. There's no room for awkwardness when Gaten's constantly supplying quality puns, or Caleb is explaining a new dance move he made up. But with the adults, it can get really quiet between the two of you. They were all lovely and extremely distinguished, but that's where the issue came in. You were pretty shy in general and with their status' of fame, you were honestly intimidated. You wanted to impress them as ridiculous as it sounded. Ironically, the one person you wanted to impress the most, was actually the cast member you had the best relationship with.

The charming Joe Keery had you hooked after your very first interaction. You rarely experienced an awkward quiet moment with him, probably because he was so laid back and talkative that he didn't know what an uncomfortable moment was. The closer you got, the easier it got for you to talk to him while doing his cover ups. You were honestly each-others on-set therapists and neither of you were complaining. Joe was pretty inclined to tease you about your quiet nature, but you adored his comedic style so much you didn't even mind. Matter of fact, his jokes about you were probably the best ones you heard during your shifts.

At around 6:30, you made your way sluggishly to the hair and make up trailer. The other artists shot you a nod or a small half smile, but it was evident that no one was really in the mood for over the top greetings at this time in the morning.

"Who's shooting first today?" You softly questioned your coworker, Ben, who was the main hair stylist.

"I'm pretty sure it's a scene between Joe and Natalia. I heard something about it being after a scene where Joe gets beat up." Ben replied, a slick smile spreading across his face because he knew how much you loved to do make up other than just cover ups.

Before you had the chance to reply, the trailer door swung open and one of the Duffer brothers strolled in with Joe and Natalia not far behind. You were relatively sure it was Ross but you'd gotten them confused before and didn't feel like outwardly embarrassing yourself this early in the morning.

After Ross (maybe), explained the appearance he wanted the characters to have, everyone set off on their own job. You walked over to your make up station, knowing without looking that Joe was following closely behind you.

"Are you excited? You finally get to do the bruise make up you're always raving about" Joe asked, somehow mustering a genuine smile despite the fact that he was awake before the sunrise.

"Of course, it's my dream to make the Joe Keery look like hell. I've got quite the task ahead of me" You responded, keeping up with the high spirited banter.

He leisurely sat down into your make up chair, relatively accustomed to the process by now. You fell into conversation so naturally, you felt as though you were reading a script of never ending discussion topics. However, after a few minutes, you found yourself getting distracted from the makeup. The closer you examined his features, you began to feel flustered. His eyes flickered to yours, and suddenly the dream came rushing back to you. You felt your cheeks flush and your stomach flip, as you began to recall the events of your dream from last night.

"Are you okay?" Joe questioned, a comforting tone of authenticity in his voice. You were pulled back into reality, tensing up slightly at even the thought of Joe realizing that you had a dream about him.

"Uh yeah, sorry." You chuckled softly, returning to shading a bruise onto his forehead. You placed your palm gently under his chin to tilt his head upward slightly. It was extremely difficult to stay focused as your finger tips kept brushing up against his strong jawline.

"I'm genuinely so desperate to watch Game of Thrones tonight, but my HBO keeps malfunctioning. It's driving me crazy." Joe began to trail you off into another lucid conversation.

"Come over to my hotel room tonight, I was planning on watching anyways." You responded half heartedly, more focused on the makeup than what You were saying.

"Really?" He questioned, his eyes examining your face attempting to decipher whether you were being genuine.

"Yeah, of course. I'll text you which room I'm in." You smiled softly, not really thinking much of the favor. As excited as you wanted to be about him coming to your room later that night, you knew you had to keep things cool because you were pretty sure he thought of you as just a friend. However, you couldn't help but notice the Hint of soft pink blush in his cheeks after the conversation.

***

You couldn't help but feel anxiety at the idea of you and Joe alone in your hotel room. You literally couldn't function at the thought of it, so you just lied against the cotton sheets of your hotel bed, staring up at the ceiling fan. He'd be showing up any minute now, and to be honest your nerves grew with every passing second.

With the noise of an echoing knock on hotel door, you shot up from the bed, glancing towards the other side of the room. You made your way to the door, and taking a deep breath, pulled it open.

You were greeted by the sight of Joe leaning against the door frame in a plain black t-shirt, clearly unsure of what to do with his body. "Woah, you look cool", you chuckled at his oddly staged stance.

"Yeah, I wasn't really sure how to stand while waiting" He responded with a soft laugh, causing a strand of his brown hair to Tumble onto his forehead

After around thirty minutes of theorizing and placing bets on what would happen in the show, the two of you finally settled down on the couch and begun watching. You tried to focus on the show, but honestly how could you when Joe was sitting right next to you, essentially a perfect human being.

The two of you weren't really watching the show so much as commentating over it. "I bet this scene is all a dream... I had a weird dream last night, I think I died in it..." Joe said quietly, awkwardly trailing off with the sentence.

You laughed, responding "I had a dream about you last ni-" you immediately pressed your lips together, silently cussing yourself out.

"You had a dream about me?" Joe asked, his interest seemingly peaked. He adjusted his seating position so that he was facing you now.

"Kind of-it was- not really..."

"Come on, tell me what it was about." His familiar smile spread across his face, illuminated by the tv, which at this point he had entirely disregarded.

In the midst of your conversation, you hadn't realized how close he'd gotten to you. You could tell he noticed at the same time as you by the look in his eyes, but he didn't move back.

"It was about-" Before you could finish your sentence, you were cut off by the feeling of his lips on yours. You felt Ice run through your veins at the feeling, not even sure if it was reality anymore.

He pulled back, searching your face for any expression to give away how you felt. You let a smile slowly slide across your lips, as relief filled his expression.

"How'd you know?" You questioned, chuckling lightly as he tilted his head in confusion. "That's what it was about... my dream"

That authentic Joe grin spread across his face as he leaned in again. Your lips touched again and suddenly the dream felt like nothing compared to the reality.

One layer

#joe keery #stranger things #strangerthings #joekeery #steve harrington #imagines #oneshot #joe keery imagine #stranger things imagine #Joe keery x reader #netflix #steve harrington imagine #gaten matazarro #finn wolfhard #caleb mclaughlin

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dreamingofjoon · 7 years

Text

Mutual Understanding//04

Shin Hoseok/Wonho x Reader or Mark Tuan x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: :):):):):):):)

Gif Credit

You didn’t want to do it. You didn’t think you could do it. You were planning on just keeping your mouth shut, never letting him know. Now you were being back into a corner. If you didn’t tell him, you could lose him. If you told him the truth, you could lose him. If you lied, you could lose him. Where was the right answer in this situation?! Oh yeah, there seemed to be none.

You hadn’t spoken to Mark all day. You didn’t even think about visiting the library. Okay, that was a lie. You did think about going but didn’t dare. It was awkward enough and you had to gather all of your strength and courage for what you were planning to do tonight. You spent most of the day contemplating on what you should say, moving from the bedroom, to the livingroom, to the kitchen, and kept repeating the cycle.

In the back of your mind, you were also having thoughts about Wonho. He was one of your only distractions during the day. He texted you, seeing as how you hadn’t come to class. He was such a sweetheart. Though, no matter how many times he asked, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him why you were absent. You weren’t sure why but when he asked, you showed uncertainty and evaded the question. He offered to give advice but you weren’t sure you could get any useful advice on this topic. You ended your question-filled conversation soon enough, anxiousness running rampant. It was already seven p.m. and you knew that today was Mark’s day off.

It was about time your calm, confident demeanor came in check but your smart mouth was no where to be seen today. All of the thoughts left in your head were mostly ‘what ifs’ and insecurities. It’s still a wonder. Why was Mark so worked up about telling him what you thought about him? It was obvious that he was asking if you liked him or not but it still felt strange. The way he asked… why not outwardly? Mark was shy but he usually got his point across clearly. He said it… but not the way you would think he would. Why did he ask what you thought of him? Why did Wonho ask that?

Anyway, back to the task at hand. You weren’t sure you wanted to talk at your apartment so you went over to his. Your hand stood at attention, about to knock on the door when you hesitated. Was this really a good idea? Should you lie to him or not? How… did he feel? All of these questions swirling around your head and you clutched a fist to your chest, wondering if you should proceed or not. You took one step back out of nervousness. Or out of fear. When you took a step back, you were met a creaking of the door, frightening you. You were ready to run back into your apartment, back turned towards whoever was opening the door when you heard a voice say your name questioningly.

You turned around slowly, raising an awkward hand.

“Hey. Yeah. It’s little ol’ me.”

Of course, who else would be there but Mark with a questioning eyebrow raised. He looked… comfy. A grey beanie with a large hoodie and navy blue sweatpants. He was always quite the fashionista. No matter how good he looked clothing-wise though, you couldn’t help but see the fatigue in his eyes. His face wasn’t as bright and lively as it was before. It held a dull color which made him seem like a vampire. That or he hadn’t slept last night. He had slight dark circles that were definitely not there yesterday. His lips were pursed and his expression was confused but he seemed to have a look that still said ‘It’s time’.

“Mind if I come in?” you asked him, keeping your distance.

“Not at all.” he said ushering you into the apartment.

You already had an internal map of his apartment. You planned to make a beeline for the couch since last night. You were making your way to the couch but your plans seemed to have been interrupted by someone. Someone and someone else apparently. Wonho was on the couch. His back was turned to you and he was looking down at something but you knew it was him. When he turned to see who it was, he spotted you. You were planted in your spot, your plans interrupted. As you stay planted in the space between the front door and the living room, someone else chose to come out. You were very surprised that it was one of the girls you had a confrontation with.

“Hey, Y/N.” Wonho said quietly.

Instead of saying anything, you raised your hand sheepishly in the form of a greeting. The girl just stared at you for a few seconds.

“Who is this?” she finally asked. It’s a wonder. Why did she sound so entitled? As if she had a right to know who you were when you were asking yourself the same thing.

“She’s Y/N.” you heard a voice say from behind you.

Mark came to stand next to you while the other girl stood in front of you with her arms crossed.

“And?” she demanded to know further.

“And she’s a good friend of mine.” Mark continued. The word “friend” seemed to be emphasized in his sentence. Although he was right about that, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness from hearing it.

“Yeah, a really good friend.” you said, trying to show a genuine smile when you knew you just couldn’t bring yourself to. You probably had a big, fake, smile on your face that bordered as a grimace. “And you would be?” you questioned.

“I’m Mark’s girlfriend.” she spit, seemingly still having a problem with you.

What. What? Let’s do a double take. Your eyes widened at the realization of what the snobby, entitled, infuriating girl in front of you just said. You turned to Mark but he looked down at the floor rather than facing you. You were honestly ready to cry. This was definitely not how you planned this in your head. This is not how you wanted this to go. Instead of crying however, you just pushed forward, trying to escape our current situation.

“Oh, nice to meet you.” you replied sheepishly. In another situation, maybe you would’ve wanted to shake her hand. Maybe you would’ve actually meant what you said. But this. This was not that situation. You were so ready to go off. It could’ve been on Mark, or his new “girlfriend”. He couldn’t have had her around for long. The question was why were you just hearing about her?

“Nice to meet you too.” she said grabbing at Mark’s arm and pulling him over to where she was standing. Why was she so possessive with him? She already had him anyway. Now that you processed this new information, all that was left was to leave with your dignity still intact.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you guys later?” you asked everyone.

“Why come if you were just going to leave?” the girl asked before you could even turn around.

Quick. You had to come up with an excuse. Why would you be out of your apartment? Aha!

“I was getting my mail and Mark invited me in.” That was the most plausible excuse you could come up with at the moment.

“Why did you invite her over babe?” she turned to look up at Mark.

Babe. Interesting choice of words. It was probably to taunt you but you were expecting that. You probably would be doing the same. If you were as insecure as she seemed to be.

“I was gonna talk to her.” he explained. “So that means you guys have to leave.”

Your eyes were probably popping out of your head now. You noticed that the girl’s eyes were doing the same. You couldn’t blame her though. You’d be surprised by his reply as well.

“And why do we have to leave?” she asked in a demanding tone.

“Because we’re talking about something important and personal.” he continued with a calm but firm tone.

Wonho got up from his seat and proceeded to put his hands on the girl’s shoulders, breaking her out of her silent fuming.

“We’ll see you later then hm?”

“Yeah. Make it home safe.” Mark said, giving a thankful look to Wonho.

The girl silently kept fuming all the way to the door but before she left, she just had look back and give you a glare. You found it amusing actually. If she already was his girlfriend, why act so insecure? So jealous? It was too late for you and you would’ve thought she would flaunt that fact ever so confidently in your face. You were relieved though, when she didn’t. When the girl and Wonho had finally left, Mark led you to the couch, seating you almost immediately after.

The silence that settled between you was tense and very uncomfortable. You just wanted to leave but apparently, Mark had something to talk to you about since you wouldn’t be saying anything any longer. The longer the silence dragged on, the more you were more confident in leaving. You weren’t planning to help him out this time. It was all about him. Although you had many questions to ask him but you wanted to hold those back until he said what he needed to.

Finally, Mark let out a huge sigh and looked over at you. You just looked straight ahead, not really wanting focus on anything else.

“Okay. That’s not really how I wanted this to go but I need you to listen and believe me.”

You turned to him, not sure if you wanted to believe anything he said at this point. You just wanted to go home, wrap yourself and take a long nap. He looked at you with meaningful eyes, showing a glint in them that made you really want to believe him.

“Yes, that was my girlfriend. We’ve been together for about a month but we didn’t really tell anyone except for Wonho because he set us up. I was pretty sad for a while because I…” he trailed off leaving you guessing for a few seconds.

“I started getting feelings for you.” he continued. Your heart melted at the words, glad you were able to hear them coming from him.

“I didn’t think you felt the same so I kind of sent Wonho on you.” You realized pretty quick what he meant by those words. That would explain why Wonho just started looking back at you one day. That would explain why he met you in your secret library spot. It explained so much about your meeting with Wonho but you still kept quiet.

“You know when Wonho asks you what you think of me? I asked him to ask you that. I was almost desperate to find out how you felt but I was too scared to ask until I had some kind of confirmation or sign from you. You always seemed to avoid the question though, so I stayed quiet for a while. Last week, I finally had the nerve to ask if you feel the same but still, you didn’t answer.” he seemed to be driving himself crazy with his rambling but you let him continue his lengthy explanation.

“Wonho saw how upset I was so he set me up with someone but it doesn’t really feel…right. Yeah, that’s the word. It feels like she has me around so that she can show me off if we made it official. But it doesn’t seem like she loves me.” he let himself think about what he just said and sighed again before continuing.

“It felt weird to talk to you after that especially because you didn’t come to school or try to text me so I left you alone. But when I saw you in the hallway, it seemed like I had some kind of chance so I’ll tell you like I should’ve done.” he said before taking a deep breath.

“Y/N, I really like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. Hell, I might love you. If you feel the same, I’d love for you to be my girlfriend.” he said carefully as if he rehearsed it multiple times in his head.

You sat there, further processing all the information you just heard. You were elated and dismayed at the same time. You stayed quiet for a good while longer before he sighed deeply and got up.

“I guess I got my answer, huh?” he laughed almost pathetically if not apologetically. “Can you please forget this? I don’t want anything weird between us.” he said just barely above a whisper.

Before he could say anything else, you spoke up, trying to get him to sit back down.

“No. Sorry. I’m just trying to process everything. Like, I’m really surprised. Before I answer you, I have a few questions.”

As soon as you said that, he sat back down, eager to hear what you had to ask.

“Why did you tell me this if you didn’t even break up with your girlfriend yet?” you asked, a bit angered. There were many things you could be called but you wouldn’t be called nor caught with a cheater. No matter how much you liked this dude, that thought would not leave your mind.

“I was planning on doing it tomorrow but she and Wonho came for a surprise visit today and said it was to cheer me up because I was moping so much.” he explained quickly. That would explain the bottles of beer on the coffee table in front of you. It was only eight o’clock but it seemed they were ready to drink away his sadness.

“And you didn’t think to do it before you asked me whether I liked you or not?”

“Honestly, I was planning on giving her more of a chance if you had said no. Then I wouldn’t have as many thoughts of you instead of her.” he confessed in a hushed voice.

“And you didn’t plan on ever telling me? Or anyone?” you further pressed.

“I was hoping no one would find out but when we took a picture together, it seemed like a few friends of hers found out. I really had to beg them to keep a secret for the time being.”

“And Wonho?” you asked after listening and understanding that miscommunication.

“What about Wonho?”

“Was my friendship with him fake? Because according to you, you ‘sent him to me’. you said, with quotations around the last four words.

“That’s not what I meant. He had actually been wanting to meet you for a while because I was always talking about you but this gave him a better opportunity. He actually considers you a good friend. He talks all about you too.”

There went that phrase again. Good friend. You didn’t have any reason to cringe at the phrase yet it still managed to make you do just that. You liked Mark and Wonho really was just a good friend. Wasn’t he? You shook your head, wanting to get away from those thoughts and focus on your current conversation again.

“So he’s for real?” you asked Mark.

“One hundred percent.” he answered.

“Okay, but why did you give him my secret library spot?” you asked, a bit annoyed that he went so far.

“Well, you see…” he started and rubbed his neck.

“That wasn’t just yours. He’s been doing whatever there too. Just when you weren’t really around.”

You sighed, believing him but there was a still a big topic left to talk about. The elephant in the room kept you planted in your seat. The rehearsed lines you kept saying over and over before you got here no longer held any value to you.

“Mark, if we’re being honest, I have feelings for you too. I have for a while but I didn’t think you felt the same so I kept quiet. Now that you’re telling me, you better believe I’m jumping out of my skin.”

As you were talking, a smile seemed to creep up on his face, showing that beautiful grin that ceased to amaze you.

“But, I’m not happy that you told me while you still had a girlfriend. In fact, you didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend at all! If you want me to be your girlfriend, you have to let her go. I know you wouldn’t cheat on anyone and you know that I don’t want to date someone who would cheat.”

Mark nodded in understanding and agreement, knowing that he could never do that to anyone nor expect you to do the same. He scooted closer to you and held your hand in his, looking down at your hands together.

“Y/N, you seriously made my night. Really. Thank you and I’m sorry it took me so long. Thank you so much for this chance.” he said while caressing your hand.

A lump formed in your throat. You so wanted to cry out of the sheer happiness this talk gave you. Instead of bawling your eyes out, you turned your head away from Mark, hoping he didn’t notice your tears.

“Y/N? Are you crying?” he asked cautiously.

“No, I’m not crying.” you said, wiping a few tears away with your free hand.

You kept your head turned, not wanting him to see that he had this kind of effect on you. You shifted uncomfortably, completely facing away from him and using both hands to dry stray tears on your face. Instead of saying something that could get him kicked, Mark opted to hug you from behind instead. He kissed your cheek, his lips almost feather-light and told you “For real. Thank you.” The statement only made you silently bawl further, glad with how this turned out. You may have felt just a bit bad for the girl he was going to dump tomorrow but she didn’t deserve the best either. No matter how bad you felt for her, you couldn’t help but think the same as Mark. It didn’t feel like she really loved him. He was more of an accessory.

You knew now why she seemed so cautious around you. She probably picked up on the true feelings of her future ex-boyfriend. Now wasn’t the time to think of that though. You were just glad to be sitting in Mark’s embrace with a feather-like impression still on your skin. It was a night and conversation that you were grateful for.

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swordliliesandebony-blog · 7 years

Text

Hoping for Some Permanence | Chapter Two

Word Count: 5700/11950

Chapter: 2/?

Pairing: Noctis/Prompto

Warnings: canonical minor character death (mention only), anxiety descriptions/mentions

Other Tags: Modern AU, Angst, Fluff, Dad!Cor, Slow Burn

(Chapter One Here)

[Read on Ao3]

It's all a bit of luck, really.

Prompto thinks a good deal of his life is all a bit of luck, when it comes down to it. There are key and pivotal points where things could have gone wrong, where he could have wound up on a path that is anything but the pleasant, relatively simple one he's on now. He lives a life of near-misses, maybe a bit too often, but he has a way of coming out on top and he decides, while he's waiting for the food he's ordered himself and his unexpected date, that he's definitely coming out on top here.

He doesn't think too hard on any of the details, because he's a little bit worried by them if he's being honest. His dad grilled right into Noctis the moment he got a good look at him, left Prompto to do a fair turn of rescuing there. Then the luck came in, and they wound up here, which is all well and good but he's still got some questions. He's still got a lot of questions, really, and he's working through most of them internally right now, guessing at which he can ask right away, which he might have to tiptoe around a bit more. He ignores them all for those first few moments, when he balances a tray back to the seat Noctis has picked out and offers up the meal. He focuses on sunshine and brightness and all of the traits he's been told make him a bit of a magnetic force.

Maybe it's not all luck. He works hard at mustering up that persona. There's a fair bit of anxiety beneath it. There are those days where he can't bring himself to the shop, where he can't bring himself out of his room at all, for fear of a million different things. When he's on, he's on, and it'll drain him to the core, but it's him in the end. Prompto is making that choice, after all, to be the person he's presenting as. He's making that choice to smile, to ignore the tricky parts of his brain that like to send him spiraling a bit more often than he'd care to admit. And luck would have it- another good turn of it- that he's absolutely on the ball today, with the somewhat quiet, apparently shy, utterly gorgeous friend-of-Gladio's stumbled in on him.

"It's good, right?" more sunshine, after he's taken a few bites of his own sandwich, washed it back with a draw from a fancy- and admittedly overpriced- bottle of soda. He cocks his head, makes sure his eyes are appropriately wide, his expression encouraging and open. He's going for the charm, for certain 'cuteness' factor. He's trying, exceptionally carefully, to present as entirely carefree. He has to think it's working because he wins a little smile from his companion and a nod through a full mouth.

Prompto lets the silence sit between them while they work on their respective meals. He's waiting for it to grow awkward, to edge toward discomfort, but it doesn't quite get there. His head is churning over it, counting moments, a whole inner dialogue spouting silently, anticipating responses once he does work himself up to speak, ranking topics and questions and potential answers. He does all this while he chews, while he glances around the restaurant, while he looks at Noctis. He counts the seconds he holds his gaze there, looks away on the fifth heartbeat, returns attention to his food or to one of the posters that decorate the little hole-in-the wall. And he keeps his smile firmly in place, not too bright, as to imply some sort of desperation, or worse, questionable sincerity. A lot of things are shooting through Prompto's mind at any given moment, too many things really, and it all does take so much effort.

It's definitely worth the effort, of course. He's sitting in his favorite sandwich joint with a guy he's needing to make a very conscious effort to try and pry his eyes from, and they're hitting it off, from what Prompto can see. He'd absolutely notice if it weren't the case, too, he's sure of it. He takes every detail into consideration in situations like this. He watches body language and he listens to the tone in a simple statement. He gave Noctis an out, too, before dragging him out to lunch. Yeah, there's the usual, instinctive self-doubt under the layers of careful observation, but Prompto thinks he's doing pretty damn well here, thank-you-very-much. Well enough, in any case, that he feels like he can strike up conversation again. Unexpectedly comfortable as the silence might be, words are what win you second dates, and Prompto isn't ashamed to admit to himself that he's absolutely thinking about a second date already.

"So, how long you known the big guy for?" Prompto wonders briefly if it's the right question to ask, now that their tray is starting to hit the half-emptied point. Noctis glances up from his sandwich and their eyes catch, something that makes Prompto's heart stumble in his chest, makes his muscles go a little bit tense. There's something in those eyes, he swears it, something that catches him and pulls him in and makes it so damn hard to look anywhere else. There's hesitation too, though, and of course he wonders immediately if he's made the wrong move.

"Pretty much forever," the answer is short and simple and Prompto nods, though he definitely feels that he's taken the wrong path now. There isn't any follow-up at first and Noctis is quick enough to grab for some fries, keep his mouth busy with something other than speech. Prompto knows that his facade nearly falters here, but he lets his smile grow a little bit more instead, taps a little rhythm against the table to keep the silence from falling once more.

"Gonna hafta give him hell for not introducing us sooner then," he thinks it's a pretty smooth recovery, even if there's nothing to outwardly recover from. His mind is always filling in the blanks though, always reacting to situations as if they were a bit more dire than they may actually be. He definitely notices a twitch upward to Noctis's lips. A good sign, even if Noctis doesn't do much more than nod, make an affirmative noise. Even if that initial sign is good, though, it's enough silence to make Prompto begin to wonder, begin to question the situation.

It's always a hard balance for Prompto to find- exactly how much of the talking he should be doing. He has a tendency to start up and a difficulty in realizing when to stop, in pinpointing exactly when interest has been lost and he's descended into rambling. He doesn't think it's the situation here, not just yet, but he's keenly aware of the possibility and he makes another mental note- one on a stack of hundreds- to take care there. He needs, he decides very firmly, not to fuck this up. Easier said (or thought) than done, of course.

"Alright. I think it's only fair to ask, as the guy who conned you into getting lunch instead of a tattoo," Prompto pauses for a stretch of grin, a glimpse of reaction- positive again, with the way Noctis's eyes meet his- before posing his question, "you really have no idea at all what you want?" There might be a little bit more to that question, lying beneath the surface, but it's all incidental if so. Prompto's mostly amused, if anything. He might be digging, just subtly, to get a better understanding of the guy's personality. He's scanned him for any other pieces, but Noctis went with long sleeves despite the day's heat, dark jeans to match. Beside that fact, he looked nervous as hell when he was examining the flash, and he'd needed a recommendation to get to the shop anyway. Which makes him the type of guy who dives right in, doesn't it? The sort that knows what he wants, in a broad sense, maybe misses out on the details here and there. More likely, Prompto is putting far too much weight on a whim.

Prompto is surprised when, after a beat or two, Noctis lets out a little chuckle. Not a proper laugh, but a sound of amusement. He thinks it could be a sign that he's on the right track, but Prompto is starting to get muddled here, starting to lose the plot just a touch. Even with all his practice, with all his obsession over it, he's not always the best judge, not always great at reading people. He's finding pretty quickly that he's especially not great at reading Noctis, which is just another little thrill of anxiety to leave his pulse fluttering and his palms sweating both too much for him to justify.

"Is that weird? Don't people get tattoos they totally regret later all the time?" Noctis's tone is a little bit flat, bordering on disinterest. His eyes are caught on Prompto's again though and he clearly waits for a response. Yeah, Prompto is lost here, he has to admit it now. It's wreaking havoc on his nerves, even if it's a little bit enticing too. Definitely getting a nice, mysterious vibe here, that little bit of intrigue that makes Prompto want to know more, to dig a little bit deeper.

"Well, yeah. They usually think it's a really good idea at the time, though. Like, 'oh, wow, the logo from the King's Knight tie-in movie is pretty sweet'. Not, 'in like ten years, I'm gonna finally admit to myself that movie sucked and now I hafta explain this dumb thing to every dude I sleep with'. You don't go in expecting to regret it."

"Sounds like you're speaking from experience," Noctis smiles with the little jab and it makes Prompto laugh, shake his head, try to ignore the warmth in his cheeks. He considers spouting off on some tangent about just turning eighteen and having questionable judgment and the intricacies of regret. Instead, he quirks up an eyebrow and shrugs.

"Bet you'd like to know," he goes the flirtatious route instead, still aiming a bit of a jab right along with it. It's Noctis's turn to blush now and Prompto takes a fair amount of pride in being able to pull the reaction from him. His mind continues to spin, to swirl with any number of ways this could all go wrong, but luck is definitely with him today, he's sure of it. Things are turning out right. There's definitely a distinctly dad-like voice in the back of his head telling him to stop thinking so damn much.

"Kinda seems like I already do. You should probably be thanking me. Explaining later sounds like a real mood-killer," they share a laugh this time, and Prompto starts to feel just a touch more at ease. Noctis isn't any easier to read here. He feels like he's wavering back and forth, like there are two absolutely distinct parts to him, totally at odds, weighing each other out and fighting for dominance. It's nothing less than bizarre, a little bit bewildering, but it's not more than Prompto can handle. He's not gonna let it be more than he can handle.

"Now you're just trying to get me all flustered so you don't hafta answer the question. I'm totally on to you."

"Damn. Thought I'd gotten away with it for sure," Prompto is pleased by the way Noctis smiles through his reply. There's a beat of silence- three or four, to be a little bit more realistic- before he says anything else. Another one of those brief and comfortable quiets that makes it feel a lot less like they'd just met and a lot more like they're old friends. Prompto tries to work out the source of that silence. He decides that Noctis is coming up with some grand, clever answer to it all, that there will be a new joke and that he will need to be ready with another counter of his own. It doesn't turn out to be the case, though.

"Alright. I know I want something, and I know where. Just figured I'd work out the details there. You have all sorts of stuff on the walls, and you're the expert anyway," there's another pause in Noctis's words and Prompto can pick that one out easily enough as hesitation. His expression changes, too. The smile fades, and Prompto has to wonder if something landed wrong, if there was a mistake in his words somewhere, "I need a scar covered up. You can do that, right?"

The silence hits again, but this time it's a little bit less comfortable. Prompto can feel his smile slip away from him, just for a moment. There are more questions pressing behind his lips than he knows what to do with, ones he has to swallow back in order to formulate the right response. He looks Noct over again, and he considers the long sleeves, the long pants, tries to mentally pinpoint where the scar is, what needs so badly to be covered. He wants to ask, wants desperately to, but there was that change in tone, that obvious shift in demeanor and he can't quite bring himself to do it.

"Kinda. Maybe. I'd hafta see it. Working on scars is tricky. Ink takes differently, it can be hard to predict. And it's not really possible to make the scar go away, just by coloring over it. Doing it right is kinda like camouflage," Prompto is well-aware that he's at risk here of rambling, of following a tangent too far and losing track of what's at hand. And what's at hand is Noctis looking distinctly uncomfortable, maybe a little bit crestfallen. So Prompto makes a point of brightening himself up, just a little, focusing more on what positives he can pick out, "anyway, that actually means it's kinda a good thing you don't have a specific design in mind. We'll come up with something custom that works around it."

Noctis nods, but he's fallen entirely into that quiet now. Prompto doesn't push him over it this time, doesn't try to fill the space. It looks a hell of a lot like Noctis is thinking things over. There's a strange squeeze in the center of Prompto's chest while he watches the subtle changes in his face, while he wonders exactly what it is going through Noctis's mind. Scars are difficult. Those words are loud and clear and even more dad-voiced in his mind. His father is good with them, he has experience, he's probably a better choice for this work. Prompto is skilled, he's been taught and trained well, but he's young and he knows how easy these things are to screw up. Uncertainty is starting to sink in, heavy and painful claws giving that squeeze around his heart now.

"You can do that, though? Design something?" When Noctis finally speaks his tone has lifted just a touch. He sounds close to eager, and Prompto tries to feed into that energy. He gets a smile on his face that's properly genuine, or at least as close as can be hoped for with the way his mind is churning and his heart is strangely aching. He nods eagerly, before he manages to get the words out. He's confident in this much, at least, that if Noctis wants him to do this, he'll work it out. He'll talk to his dad, he'll study up, do whatever he needs to.

"Definitely. It'll be fun," he pauses though and he does make an admission, one that he thinks might hurt his prospects but one that he thinks is only fair to make, crucial even, "I've never done it before. With a scar, I mean. I can definitely design you something, but if you want someone else to do it-"

"-No," Noctis interrupts him and it's absolutely startling, makes Prompto's eyes go wide in a way that's more natural than purposefully inviting, "I mean, I've never had this done, so I won't know if you got it wrong anyway, right? Works out perfectly," this time when he smiles, it really is something else. It's not wide, or even overtly happy. There's a sort of trust there though, or at least Prompto puts that value to the expression, and it fills him with an unexpected bit of motivation. He's lacking in confidence, but he can bury that part. He's determined now, absolutely committed by that damn smile to get this right.

"Yeah, perfect," Prompto says, an agreement after a moment's pause. He considers his words only for a moment this time, dives directly in, "y'know, I should probably get to know you better, in that case. Can't really come up with my masterpiece when we've only known each other for an hour," he's inclined to brace himself, but Noctis's smile changes to an entirely pleasant one with the words.

"I’m pretty sure we can arrange that. Since you’re taking me on a second date and all,” there’s a little thrill there, something that Prompto doesn’t anticipate but something that he leans into, lets his smile break genuine and wide at. There’s definitely some luck on his side today, no two ways about it. After all, he’s pretty sure he’s made a mistake or two hundred in the brief conversations they’ve shared and still, a second date. Another confirmation that this strange attempt was a first one, “don’t hafta look so surprised. We had a wager, right? The sandwich was awesome,” and Noctis laughs, something fuller and genuine, smooth and refreshing and turning Prompto’s insides on themselves.

“Now you understand why it’s the go-to. That’s how I get ya,” it’s easier to joke, with the way Noctis’s mood has changed again. It’s all still tumultuous, spinning Prompto’s whole damn consciousness in circles. There’s a certain reliance upon instincts here that he’s never gotten the hang of, where all of his faux-confidence slips away and he has to actually rely on and even believe in himself. It’s a strange feeling, an unfamiliar and terrifying and invigorating one all at once.

“Here. Let me see your phone,” Noctis extends a hand across the table and makes a bit of a grabbing motion. Prompto’s face goes blank for just a moment, but he digs through his pocket and punches in his password with a surprisingly shaky hand. Then he watches, tries to lift himself a little, while Noctis thumbs through, makes a grinning point of hiding the screen from Prompto. There’s a pause, a tone that sounds from Noct’s pocket, and the phone slid back across the table, screen down, obscured. Prompto’s first instinct is to look, to see exactly what unspoken message was left there, but he shoves it into his pocket instead. He’s more interested, after all, in the Noctis sitting in front of him rather than behind the screen. For now, at least.

“Hope you’re not expecting a night of risque photos. I’m not into giving spoilers,” the teasing, the flirting, it’s coming a little bit easier even if Prompto’s pulse is pounding in his ears and there’s a particular warmth pressed in his pocket, attached to the idea of Noct’s fingers on the phone and Noct’s fingers on his thigh instead. He reminds himself not to think o that, not just yet. First date, and all. Still, Noctis is undeniably attractive, certainly aware of it, enticing to an absolute fault and it’s hard for Prompto not to let his mind wander just a little bit.

“Already crushing all my hopes and dreams, thanks a lot,” Prompto thinks, to be fair, that the fact that Noctis is moving to stand now is crushing a lot of his own hopes and dreams. He can’t, of course, spend an entire day out with him. He has responsibilities back at the shop, plans that can’t so easily be brushed aside. Still, he manages one of his more magnificent pouts.

“Hey, wait a second,” he knows he sounds just a bit too desperate here. He wants to think it won’t come across that way, but Prompto isn’t one for fooling himself in any positive terms. His mind is reeling while Noctis stares at him, expectant. He hasn’t come up with an excuse, but a thought strikes him and he blurts it immediately, “you came all the way to the shop and you don’t even have anything to show for it. Why don’t you let me, I dunno, pierce something,” he’s scrambling for something and it’s obvious enough. Noctis’s eyes widen a touch and a surprised sort of laughter passes his lips.

“I usually save punching holes in my body for at least the third date, y’know,” Prompto laughs at his response, though there is a sort of crestfallen feeling coupled with it. It must show through, because Noctis pauses a moment, seems to think about it, “besides, I’m kinda a boring guy. Don’t think I’d be any good with the flashy stuff in my face.”

“Doesn’t have to be in your face,” Prompto hears himself counter at once and he laughs quickly, turns his head away to obscure a certain flush that spread over freckled cheeks. He’s definitely not going to admit to picturing a defined plane of chest, adorned with some nice little rings. Absolutely not going to entertain anything lower, even if the thoughts are bubbling fresh and bright in his head, “I mean, I could just do your ear. Lots of guys go for that,” he follows up, only halfway in an effort to clear that pink tone from his face, to turn his offer a bit more innocent.

“I’ll think about it,” Noctis moves, closes a bit of the space between himself and Prompto with a quick step around the table. Prompto swears that just the proximity makes hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, makes his pulse double and his skin go all warm. Never mind when Noctis puts a hand on his arm, a gentle gesture, but a bit of contact that he can’t ignore, something of warmth and promise and a million thoughts in Prompto’s mind applying more meanings than necessary, more implications than truly exist, “in the meantime, you think about where you’re taking me this weekend. And I’ll think about how bored I am waiting desperately for your text.”

He flashes a smile. It’s that wide, open, toothy one that makes Prompto’s stomach do a flip, leaves him absolutely wordless while he nods, while he watches Noctis take his leave after a brief squeeze at Prompto’s bicep. They share a final glance when he reaches the door and he disappears, Prompto the sole victim to his whirlwind. And a whirlwind, really and truly, is what Prompto thinks Noctis is. He’s definitely swept through him, left a proper little disaster in his wake. Prompto, in fact, is left standing slack-jawed and bordering on helpless, blank stare at the door, a few moments too long after Noctis has disappeared beyond it.

His senses still haven’t entirely calmed when he makes his way through that same door, beginning a slow walk back up those few blocks to the shop. His mind is a million places at once, though that much is far from unusual for him. Prompto is pretty damn accustomed to over thinking, getting lost in his thoughts, losing the pacing and missing a beat and stumbling- both metaphorically and, a little bit too often, literally- on his face for all the effort. The walk back to the shop is all ducked head and hands shoved deep into his pockets while he tries to work through what, exactly, just happened. It’s a strange smile that keeps tugging at his lips, too, a warmth in the middle of his chest that just keeps spreading, tingling through him, lifting his spirits more than they have any right to be.

A jolt runs through him, now within eyeshot of Lion Heart’s storefront, when his phone buzzes against a pocketed fist, gives off a barely-audible but telltale ‘kweh’ of a text notification. The jolt reminds him of the work Noctis was doing with his phone, the cheeky expression when he slid it back against the table. Prompto fumbles in his hurry to fish the device from his pocket and take a look. His breath catches, the notification lit on his screen displaying a new message from ‘Noct’ with a fair number of heart-shaped emojis on either side. Another bit of fumbling, nearly dropping the whole damn thing, when he punches in his lock code to read the message proper.

The first message, the one that was intended to save the contact and was sent from Prompto’s own phone, is a string of emojis- three eggplants in a row, a peach, splashing water. It’s enough to make Prompto lose himself in laughter, pause and lean against the brick entryway rather than make his way directly into the shop. The second text makes him smile as well, as the laughter finally quiets. A simple reminder that he is now awarded a date, and he’d better make it a good one. Prompto taps a, ‘bet your ass it will be’ in response before he shoves the phone back into his pocket and shoulders his way back into the shop.

He enters to relative silence. No hum of tattoo gun in the back, no sound at all, really, other than the low house music they run on. Prompto knows he’s smiling a little bit too wide, a little too easily. He’s waiting for Cor to say something from behind the counter, really, when he plops himself down on one of the torn-up leather chairs forming a waiting area nearby. It takes a moment for Prompto to recognize the look on his father’s face, for his own expression to fall and a bit of worry to grip at him.

Cor doesn’t yell, not really. Maybe here and there, when Prompto fucks up big time, but even then it’s usually not an actual fight. There’s still an instinct, though, something that Prompto thinks must have been bred into him, maybe learned in his infancy before he had a father who made a point not to yell or fight unless it was really and properly deserved. It’s an instinct to run, or to cower away. It’s an instinct to be afraid, anxious, flighty, anything that will save him a difficult situation. Probably a character flaw, he knows, and an entirely undeserved one. Still, his shoulders sink and Prompto is making himself small in that seat.

“Keeping busy without me, huh?” Prompto tries for a little bit of light-hearted greeting, but he knows it fails. He knows that his voice is just a little bit shaky. Cor’s expression softens a touch and he leans against the counter, even offers something close to a smile. There are a lot of things that Cor will push him on. He expects dedication and commitment and hard work. He demands respect. He doesn’t, however, challenge that inexplicable sort of fear that Prompto is inclined to at the first sign of trouble. He doesn’t question that deep-seated need to please, or the terror of disappointment, and maybe that’s why there aren’t real fights, there isn’t real yelling. Somehow, it still doesn’t manage to calm Prompto’s nerves. Never really has.

“As always. How was lunch?” Even if he’s being pleasant, there’s a certain tone to his voice. Prompto doesn’t know how to take it, because he knows that tone well and it’s not the one he expected. It isn’t a disappointment over some vital chore Prompto’s mistakenly neglected. It isn’t frustration from one of the occasional customer complaints that might have been avoided with a little bit of reasoning. It’s the Dad Voice. No, it’s not just the Dad Voice. It’s the Concerned Dad Voice. Prompto almost groans. He’s bracing himself for a different sort of impact now.

“Good,” Prompto is careful with his response. His eyes and his voice and his whole damn demeanor is suspicious. He knows what’s coming. Rather, he knows the gist of what’s coming. What’s actually coming, from what angle, and why, those are still mysteries. He’s mentally leafing through their past few interactions, trying to pinpoint exactly what life lesson he’s in for today, but nothing is coming to mind. It’s disconcerting. It’s a little bit terrifying. Prompto shifts in the chair, leans heavily against the rest and works his thumbnail against well-worn leather. A nice, simple distraction. An easy nervous habit.

“And your friend?” That’s what it’s about? Prompto frowns here, and his expression is definitely turning to confusion. He’s skipped out to lunch with friends before. Hell, he’s skipped out to lunch with potential boyfriends more than once. And more than lunch, at that. Cor tends to make a point of keeping his nose out of that particular part of Prompto’s life, beyond the occasional word of advice before a date or box of condoms left conspicuously behind the counter. He doesn’t ask about who Prompto’s going out with. Really, Prompto doesn’t think he cares. Prompto is grown, after all, a man in his twenties. His dad doesn’t really need to concern himself with his casual dates.

“He’s nice. We had a good time. What’s with you?” his voice is a little bit sharp, which is very likely the exact wrong tactic here. Cor doesn’t pounce on it, doesn’t even scold him though. Instead, he sighs, and he steps from behind the counter. Prompto realizes, watching his father make a slight limp to sit on the couch opposite him, that he wishes this was more scolding. Whatever conversation is coming, he’s pretty damn sure he doesn’t want to have it.

“Prompto,” there’s that tone again, that fatherly concern. It’s written all over him, just the way Prompto is wearing his own anxiety. There’s a pause after the sound of his name, pregnant and halting and as uncomfortable as everything else, “listen. I trust your judgment, you know that. And I support you, no matter what,” oh, this really is a concerned dad talk. Prompto is absolutely squirming in his seat. There’s a sound between a whine and a groan and there’s a nod, a mumbled sort of ‘yessir’ while he waits for Cor to continue.

“You’re a grown man. I’m not going to tell you what to do,” exactly the sort of words, Prompto thinks, that someone says before they tell you what to do, “but I want you to be careful with him. I’m not talking about the normal sort of careful,” Prompto is definitely frowning now, and he thinks back again. He plays the conversation between Noct and his father in his mind, and his stomach begins to go tight, his skin a little bit hot and cold. There was recognition there, on some level. Prompto shifts again, tries to avoid the uncomfortable sensation if his heart suddenly thumping wild against his ribs.

“It was just lunch, dad. Gladio sent him in. It’s no big deal…”

“I saw you looking at him,” Cor counters the dismissal at once. Prompto, in times like these, really wishes he was in possession of some sort of mask. He’s too prone to wearing his heart on his sleeve. It works out for him, when luck is on his side, but it seems like luck went off somewhere in the vague direction of the Citadel some minutes earlier, “what has Gladio told you?”

“Nothing. I mean, he mentioned maybe sending me a client, but that’s it. What… I don’t get this. What’s going on? You know him, right? Just say whatever it is you wanna say, ‘cause I really don’t know what you’re getting at,” he’s irritable now, though mostly out of concern, that familiar anxiety. And a horrible feeling of excitement, anticipation, happiness turning to dust in front of him so easily.

“I know about him. I knew his father,” Knew. There’s something in that word that makes Prompto’s brows furrow, makes his breath catch a little. There’s something in all of this that makes him so damn uneasy, makes him wish the conversation was over, “listen. I’m not suggesting you avoid him, but I want you to be careful, Prompto. If you like him, that’s fine. I just want you to be careful. I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

“I’m not gonna get hurt, dad,” there’s a pause before Prompto makes this assurance and another before he speaks again. He’s almost inclined to push the issue, to ask for more details. There was a hint in there, about Gladio, almost an unspoken encouragement for Prompto to take initiative on that route. He’s considering that, more than he’s considering pressing his father for whatever information he seems privy to. His thumbnail cuts across the leather, scores little lines in it, “I’ll be careful. Promise. Might be helpful if I knew what to be careful about, though.”

“Maybe nothing. It’s...just a feeling I have. Maybe I’m wrong. I just want you to keep your guard up. I know you, Prompto, and I know how quick you like to dive in. I’m just saying, you should take your time with this one. That’s all,” Prompto wants to say that he’s relieved by the way Cor says the words, the finality to the statement. The warning, however, is vague and it’s menacing. It’s just enough information to make him wonder, little enough to make his mind go a million different directions, to make him obsessively recount that first date, search for signs, question every damn word they shared.

“Okay,” Prompto shifts again, abandons his work at half-carving shapes into the arm of the chair, pushes himself up to his feet, “I’m gonna go finish cleaning up, alright?” he nods toward the hall before he starts in that direction, waits for Cor’s silent nod before he turns away. It’s a relief when he makes it into his studio room, gets the door shut behind him, sits himself on the little rolling stool. He propels himself with both heels, so he can plant his back against the wall. The lights are harsh in here and there is still plenty to clean after his pre-lunch client. It was a touch irresponsible to leave everything in this state, he knows.

That doesn’t stop him from fishing his phone out again, though, to shoot a message at Gladio before he sets to work:

‘Call me. ASAP.’

#promptis #ffxv fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #ffxv #hfsp

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cloud17dreams · 7 years

Text

A Touch of Our Fingers (Woozi/Jihoon)

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1831 words

Summary: The boys give Jihoon a hard time for not showing affection to you, so when you’re alone with him you suggest the Vulcan way of kissing to start him off.

Requested by: A shy cloud ^_^ ^_^ ^_^ hope you’ll like it!

It had been clear from the start that Jihoon didn’t fancy physical skinship. From a lack of morning kisses, to rarely ever initiating hugs, it had been evident - but being a person who generally wasn’t a huge sucker for romance, you were fine with it as well. There just, wasn’t a need for touches between the both of you, however baffling it may sound; as long as you were right beside him, and him you, you were both satisfied with the company. No frequent hand-holding, no dramatic cupping of cheeks while staring into each other’s eyes, nor will there be a time when the both of you would be sitting on each other’s laps. As compared to all the other outwardly romantic and cheesy couples, the relationship between you two had always seemed more platonic than romantic to people around you - filled with jokes, harmless pranks, and playful giggles throughout every date, however, the both of you still knew deep in your hearts that you were both meant for each other.

It had started off slow initially with the both of you also tricked by the demeanor that you both could only be friends and nothing more. But the days went by, and you both found yourselves yearning for each other’s company whenever apart, and the epiphany had struck you like a benign lightning bolt one day, between the laughs and giggles: you couldn’t imagine yourself living without Jihoon. Everything from there then went smoothly. You can’t seem to remember who confessed first, but either way, the both of you got together soon enough, your budding romance sprouting slowly but surely on the basis of your close friendship. Physical touches still had never been in the equation, but nevertheless this was a relationship that you both indulged in.

Alongside dating him, of course, was the chaos of meeting the rest of the guys. The first time had been intimidating, and that was for sure. Imagine a person swooning over their newfound family member, curiously asking a tons of questions then being amazed by anything they say, and multiply that by twelve. Scary indeed. Over time, however, you grew used to their antics, and had even taken it to yourself to roast them back snarkily on occasion, and Jihoon infinitely took pride in teaching you so. It was just another time you met up with all of them for dinner at Mingyu’s, that Soonyoung had said something about the severe lack of a show of affection in your relationship with Jihoon.

Lounging on the couch after a satisfying round of Mingyu’s homecooked dishes, he had commented, “Hey, Jihoon, why don’t I ever see you doing anything with y/n?” He tutted and shook his head, “Look at you, you’ve been watching this same episode of Doctors for the fifth time already while y/n has been on her laptop there for hours doing some work alone! Come on, aren’t you both a couple? Go and give her a kiss and cuddle with her while she works or something!“

Jihoon froze at that comment, his eyes glued to the TV screen to avoid eye contact with anyone. Then, even Chan piped up from the kitchen. “Yeah, why haven’t I ever caught you guys doing anything couply like exchanging small kisses whenever you can? I’m the person with the worst luck here, always bumping into couples. Look at Vernon over there cuddling on the couch with his girlfriend whule taking a nap. The both of you aren’t even in each other’s 10 metres radius!”

The other guys then raised their eyebrows, nodding in agreement after having heard Chan and Soonyoung.

“Yeah, Jihoon, the both of you don’t ever seem like a couple!” chuckled Wonwoo.

“If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought y/n was only your sister,” It was as if they were scared for not being able to stir trouble up - the comments never stopped!

“Yeah, Jihoon, are you both sure you’re dating?” Another one.

“Jihoon…do you even love y/n?” bombarded the twelve other guys in the apartment. You bit your lower lip at Jihoon’s reaction, noting that his expression was blank. That wasn’t a good thing; Jihoon had always only employed that barrier to shut people out, and you had known that from years of being with him. The chair grunted as you immediately stood up and exclaimed with forced cheeriness and enthusiasm. “Jihoon, let’s go home! I’m finally done with this damn thing and I want to go home and rest. I’m tired!” you whined, pretending to not have heard the boys questioning Jihoon, and dragged him out of the door in a rush.

“Bye, Mingyu, bye guys, thanks for the amazing dinner!”

Jihoon had stayed silent throughout the journey back to your shared apartment. It hurt him, of course, how his feelings could be this easily doubted just because he didn’t outwardly showcase it in front of everybody. But he kept silent, as always, not wanting to upset himself further.

As soon as the both of you reached your shared apartment, he took his shoes and socks off, silently placing them on the rack, then tailed right behind you as you unlocked the door. You sat on the couch, and patted the seat beside you, beckoning him to come over.

“Don’t listen to them, okay?” You comforted as he plopped himself on the couch beside you, while quietly leaning your weight against him, your back to his toned arms. This little contact was what he probably needed right now. His laboured breath lightly brushed your skin, the night dark and quiet, and you basked in the serenity. Quiet, alone times with Jihoon always made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

“We’ll take this at our own pace,”

“But they’re right,” he said, searching your eyes for any sign of bitterness, “I’m sure you love publicly sweet gestures - most people do! I mean, if you want to, I can always start having skinship with you in public…”

“If you forcefully will yourself to have skinship with me, I think I’d die of awkwardness before you do,” you chuckled, looking at his head lowering down in guilt, and ruffled his hair. He flinched a little, not used to the amount of affection behind that gesture. That was probably the extent of skinship he could take, and yet now he was offering to give hugs and kisses in public? You chortled.

“It really is okay, Jihoon. Don’t listen to them. Plus, if you cringe at me ruffling your hair, how are you ever going to survive public displays of affection?” You laughed breathily, imagining the expression on Jihoon’s face if he ever tried to do skinship willingly. He’d scrunch his nose so hard, pout his mouth so high-

“If you like it, I’m willing to push myself to make you feel comfortable and loved and-” he pouted.

“Tsk,” you shushed him, while lightly punching him in the stomach. This wasn’t the Jihoon you knew. Upon being punched, Jihoon then dramatically folded into himself, clutching his abdomen comically, and earned a few laughs from you. Now this was the Jihoon you were familiar with.

“Honestly, this is already enough for me. To be able to be watering our plants together frantically because we thought they were gonna die, to constantly searching for what to eat every single time, and right up to the endless movie nights- this is enough,” you grinned, a smile breaking out on your face.

“However…” you said, eyes glinting with mischief.

Jihoon fought down the impulse to roll his eyes at you, already bracing himself for his impending doom. He knew you had a small evil plan brewing in the stew for him already.

“Come on, spit it out - what mischief are you up to this time?”

You looked down at his question, and suddenly took a lot of interest in twirling your fingers. Contemplating again, you unconsciously twirled your ankle too behind you while looking up with a cat smile to try and charm him. His face muscles twitched.

“Well…we could try the way Vulcans kiss in Star Trek…” you suggested hesitantly in a soft voice, a blush of excitement colouring your cheeks.

He facepalmed. You were such a dork for Star Trek, people already knew that, but to the extent that he had to act this out with you and try this whole “Vulcan way of kissing”? He had found it the most endearing when your eyes lit up at the very thought of actually reenacting something from your favourite series.

You pouted. “Come on, Jihoon, didn’t you say you wanted to try to show me more affection?”

He paused, then laughed a little at your childishness. “Okay, okay, so how do these ‘Vulcans’,” Jihoon mocked with a small smile and gestures in the air to indicate the noun, “kiss? It can’t be too faraway from exchanging saliva though, can it?” winced Jihoon, an afterthought of a certain disturbing image replaying endlessly in his mind.

Your face lit up at his questions. “Wait, really? You’re really willing to do it for me and fulfill all my fantasies?”

Jihoon laughed again soundlessly. “That sounded a little wrong, but essentially, yes. Come on. Just tell me how to do it already and we can get it done and over with,” He said, feigning annoyance.

You jumped in excitement and grinned. “Okay, so basically,” you said as you dragged his hand over to your palm. “I touch my two fingers,” you suppressed an inner fangirl squeal, “to your two fingers,” and touched his two fingers, “like this!”

Jihoon smiled at your excitement, and hummed as your fingers touched his. “And then? What’s next?” He asked, bracing himself for more intimacy.

“Uh…” you paused awkwardly, eyes darting from one place to another.

“Wait…what? Is that all?” He asked.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” you said, your eyes lighting up again. “Isn’t it easy?”

He hummed again. “Quite so,” he said, then continued, “So I touch my two fingers,” he murmured, bringing his other free hand up to yours, “to your two fingers lightly, like this,” he said, as he touched the two fingers of your other hand.

“Gosh, this is oddly intimate,” he commented, staring down at your touching fingers.

“You don’t like it…? Is it too much for you? Hey, we can not do this if you’re uncomfortable with it,” you suggested worriedly. Jihoon brought your hands up then, and shushed you gently.

“No, y/n, this is okay,” he reassured you, and you beamed at him. The efforts he put into your relationship was touching, though never obvious.

“Let’s do this more often,”

So what if we’ve never acted like a couple? You thought, and retorted the assumptions made by the boys just now in your head. Jihoon loved you, and you loved him; there was no doubt about that. Life was amazing, you had someone who loved you endlessly, and you would never have asked for anything more. Maybe for more two-finger touches though, you reckoned with a laugh.

A/N: Man, it’s been such a long time since we’ve posted :( but here’s some tooth-rotting fluff at this point of time when I reckon a lot of us are busy with life! :)

-Admin Sapphire ^_^

#by sapphire #seventeen fluff #seventeen #woozi #jihoon #seventeen scenarios #woozi scenarios #jihoon scenarios #jihoon fluff #woozi fluff #why does my phone always autocorrect woozi to woozi #i must have screamed too much at bby woozi #yes #sorry for being so inactive clouds :(#have a nice day!

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