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searchforthescars · 2 years

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If this is out of line, please feel free to delete this ask :) I follow your Twitter and I read your Cam/Pal ☕️ post here, but now that Nona's been out for a whopping 48 hours, I was wondering how you're feeling about the fandom and the story about Cam and Pal and Paul [screams]

(First of all, I'm very sorry for this delayed reply - it started off as "Well, I want to make sure my self-imposed spoiler period is over" and then continued into "well I don't want to Step In It, fandom-wise." But I have thoughts and you asked, and I appreciate that :3).

The following content was written in mid-September and has been edited slightly for length and clarity. It's still long. Sorry lmao.

Nona the Ninth was, to (probably) the shock of no one who knows me, a gift to me specifically. I joke that this book was written for me because it has so many things I love: apocalyptic settings, examinations of all the hazards and casualties of love, and some EXPLANATIONS OF WHAT THE HELL JOHN DID.

There was also Cam/Pal. So much Cam/Pal. "I hope you know that I adore you, Scholar." SHUT THE FUCK UP?????? HELLO??????????? "LIFE IS TOO SHORT AND LOVE IS TOO LONG" OKAY GOODBYE

Now, I should also say that I've had a Nona ARC since the summer, so I've been sitting on this for a hot minute. My experience reading the book was equal parts "WOW I AM WINNING" and "wow the fandom is going to go nuclear." And while I haven't seen as much hate as I was expecting, I suspect some of that is because I got over my fear of blocking people and have blocked often and liberally if the situation calls for it.

To be clear, I never have an issue with people shipping things that I don't ship. I never have a problem with people actively disliking my ships. What I do have a problem with is people coming into my DMs, notes, askbox, etc., and calling me names, attacking me, and generally being vile in mine own house when they could just as easily scroll away.

That's what happened around Cam/Pal between HtN and NtN. I'm not going to dredge up the details for the sanity of myself and my friends, but it was real and it was bad. Real people were deeply hurt. I've been in fandom - including some really nuclear ones - for more than half my life, and it has never been this bad.

At this point, my stance is this: Nona the Ninth made a near-ironclad case for Cam/Pal being canonically romantically entwined. Nona the Ninth also established that the two of them have been in love for a long time. The scene where they became Paul is, in my opinion, akin to a marriage proposal - especially when you weave in the fact that the "three strands" verse Dulcie quotes about them in Harrow the Ninth is often quoted in weddings and also talks about two people being better than one, etc etc.

My stance is also: if you read them as platonic but vibe just fine with people who don't read it that way, and you filter your internet experience through tagging, blocking, and scrolling past what you don't vibe with - more power to you. You're doing great, and I have no quarrel with you at all.

If you, however, choose to make sweeping faux-pearl-clutching statements about the creeps who ship cousins, you can get the fuck out of my house. Block me, unfollow me, whatever, but this is not the place for you.

Because also, nine times of ten, it's not about the fact that they're SECOND cousins (which is vastly different from cousins). It's about people disliking that a female character is with a male character. The Venn diagram of people I've seen being loudly angry and faux-pearl-clutching about Cam/Pal as a romantic ship and the people who insist Camilla is something that isn't bi and say that anyone headcannoning her as bi is something-phobic is almost a circle.

Again. You don't have to think Cam is bi or ship Cam/Pal. But there is no reason you need to rain on the parade of those who do.

But, because so many people do, I chose to open my umbrella and shout over the noise with my properly-tagged fic and all my online shenanigans. Because that's what fandom is about, for me. And I - like I ask others to do - mitigate my own online experience.

I'm always going to be a little angry and bitter over what happened with the Cam/Pal discourse. I'm always going to grit my teeth when I recall the person who told me they felt sorry for my sister because I "shipped incest." (Ironically, this person ships the Tridentarii.) I'm always going to be twitchy about being a Cam/Pal gremlin on main (despite that fact that I am apparently now something of a Sixth House Expert on TikTok??? weird).

But overall, Nona's release day was one of the most entertaining, unhinged 24 hours I've ever had in fandom. It reminded me of why I love fandom so deeply and fiercely; it's supposed to be about community and celebration, both of the source material and about all the diversity that accompanies a myriad of reads of that same material. I truly hope (edit: as of the time this was posted, the following statement is true) that this is a sign of what is to come for the corners of the TLT fandom I'm in; I hope that we will continue to celebrate what Tamsyn gifted us while also going unhinged over the possibilities left for us in AtN.

#anonymous #the locked tomb

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cali-kabi · 3 years

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Hello ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

I’m Sydney (she/her) ☆ 18 ☆ 🇺🇸🇦🇺🇵🇪 I love to draw cute things I like and other stuff as well (*´꒳`*)💕✨I do both traditional and digital art ^^ I love to draw Kirby stuff >w< Other stuff I love are Super Mario and Pokémon :D💫 (multifandom🌟) I have lots of headcanons and such hehe :) ☆ I also love Adventure Time, Amphibia, Steven Universe, and the Owl House🦉

~ Rainbow Dee Introduction Post :)🌈🎀🌸

~💫🌟

~🌈 🎨 ESHOP C🌟MMISSIONS

~info about my moth knight oc Hunter ^^🦋

~stuff about my Kirby Au ^^✨☀️🌙 this post its from last year by now I made a few changes :0 it’s in my comics ^^

~ my Mario and Kirby AU Headcanons💫🍄

~ Kirby gifts Galacta his very own Star Rod✨, and some info of my version of Dark Galacta Knight💜✨💫

~ my ref sheets of some of the Kirby characters✨Meta Knight, Galacta Knight, Tiff, Tuff, my oc fairy girl Aria, Sword, Blade, Magolor, Taranza 🍄🌸

~ my mirror & phantom designs of the GSA and some of the KRBAY cast ✨💜🌙

~ my waddle dee oc Cinnamon :)🍄💜

~ my Elfilin oc, Marcy :) she’s cotton candy colored <3🍬🌸

~ my Mario ocs Sydney (Toad Sona), Lily, Estrella, Cynthia, Star Guy and Candy :)🌟💫🍄🍭

🌟~ my knight oc Eamon💜🌟💫

🌟~ GSA Members with Magical Wings Headcanons

💫~ Au Sword Knight and Blade Knight🔥🌊

💫~ my art tag #sydney’s art

🌟~ my tag whenever I talk about things and such #sydney talks or #sydney speaks

💫~ my Pokémon mystery dungeon custom art icons tag #Sydney’s mystery dungeon icons :D🌟🍄making a tag cuz I love making these :)

🌟~ my ask box tag #Sydney’s askzbox 💫you can send asks about my au or oc’s if your curious hehe :)🍭

💫~ I LOVE SUPER MARIO RPG, PAPER MARIO THOUSAND YEAR DOOR, KIRBY AND THE AMAZING MIRROR, META KNIGHTMARE, KIRBY PLANET ROBOBOT, SO MUCH YALL THEIR ALL SO GOOD🍄🌟💫

🌟~ my twitter (not calling it X I love the blue birdy) is @/cali_kabi , my cara is @/cali-kabi , my bluesky is @/cali-kabi , my artfight is cali-kabi , I have an a03 as well but I haven’t updated that much yet :,) yeah their all the same name haha :D🌟🍬I’m mostly active on here tho xD.

💫~ feel free to draw any of my characters or anything related to my AU if you like please @ me if you do it will make me so happy and my day <3🍄⭐️

🌟I don’t know how much I’ll be active here but I’ll try my best ;w;💫✨my askbox is always open :D🌸

~ If anyone is rude to me about my art/writing or makes me feel uncomfortable it’s a instant block ;0; also if your request something pls don’t expect me to 100% draw it I’m slow ^^’ pls absolutely NO NSFW/ anything inappropriate cuz it makes me feel very uncomfortable >< don’t spam follow me and don’t expect me to follow back cuz it’s kinda rude overwhelming I’m a very shy person ;-; sorry if I vent every now or then for no reason I just don’t want to hold my thoughts in.. :,0 I overthink stuff sometimes and have high levels of anxiety that explains why sorry if it’s sudden I vent :,)

From time to time I post about my oc’s or talk about my headcanons :) the links are here on this post <3

~ 🌸 Sydney 🌸

🌟thanks again for looking at my arts or reading my au wishing you well <3🌟🌊 yep this picture collage here is a list of my fav characters I got most of thems down here I actually have a bit more than this enjoy anyways xD🌟🌈

#pinned intro #introduction

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aching-tummies · 2 years

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FAQs and Info

Updated Sept 5, 2024

**blog owner juggling 2 jobs and academics for the foreseeable future and will pop in even less than usual for the next little while. Everything is still up and askbox will remain open unless things get out of hand. See you on the other side?**

1) I was 20+ when this blog was created. That being said, I'm also aro/ace so this blog will not dabble in anything too explicit. Pronouns aren't a huge trigger for me, in order of most-commonly used to least: she/her, they/them, he/him (not devaluing other pronouns, just have never had them used on me before). Though I inhabit a biologically female body, I've been treated like everything from a girly-girl, a tomboy, and even been referred to as "like a/my boyfriend" or something along those lines by people that tried to force a relationship dynamic that wasn't there. I have experience performing these gender-roles even with my biologically female body (clothes, stance, haircut--these things heavily impact how people see me and how I feel about myself in regards to what role I'm adopting for that particular moment in time). Pronouns and gender are not a huge trigger for me. When I write, there are some scenarios where I write from a female perspective, some from a male, and some that are totally ambivalent even to me--so feel free to have fun with what's on here. Nicknames for the blog owner that I'm toying with: Aitee, Eitee, AT, 80, etc.

2) Asks (the "Inspire Me" tab on this blog) is currently the only way to chat with me. I currently only engage with "RP" in the form of scenarios and responses received via the Ask feature. "RP-Asks" (a scenario/prompt), "RP-Lite" (a line prompt), and general questions are welcome. Bear in mind that tumblr eats asks, I take a long time to respond with prose writing, and I screen asks heavily to make sure nothing I'm uncomfortable with gets posted to the blog. Rude-sounding asks or ones that delve too deeply into topics that don't fit into this blog won't be answered publicly. Feel free to respond to any of the scenarios--not necessarily just the latest one (ideally, give me enough to go on to know which post it is so that I can link it on the response). The same applies to general questions (within the scope of a tummy blog) and the kink-rating thing as well. As long as there's enough to let me know what the ask is about, I can work with it.

3) Drama/Politics-free space. I have opinions on current events and social politics and such--but it's stuff I choose to engage with on other platforms. This is strictly a tummy blog and will remain such until I choose to add more things. Anyone that assumes my political leanings or tries to insist that I support one thing or another is engaging in a willful misunderstanding and that's their problem--I refuse to make it mine. A reblog on here means "I like this one specific thing", not "I'm bosom-buddies with this specific blog and anyone that has a problem with 'em can fight me"--nope. I reblog the one thing means I liked that one thing enough to archive it on my blog so that I might revisit it over and over again. This blog was created as an outlet/archive for my own enjoyment. If other people enjoy what I write, that's bonus, but the only person I'm here to specifically please is myself.

4) I DO NOT create photos, audio, or video--publicly or privately. What you see on here is all that I offer. I will not be pressured into creating content that I am not comfortable with. The Ask feature is called 'Inspire Me' for a reason--I want to be inspired to write for the blog, not pressured or nagged into catering to specific interests.

*This pinned post will be continuously updated as I see fit (with a date-stamp at the top when it is).

#aching-tummies pinned post

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euphoniumpets · 4 years

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Why Do You Love Me? | Corpse Husband x Reader

@cxerrycxla requested: Can you do a corpse husband x reader where they have a fight and he tell her to leave

A/N: This one is an angsty one so be prepared for the feels and listen on the Why Do You Love Me by Charlotte Lawrence the Acoustic version! If anyone’s asking where this header is made from, please check out this post. Also, If anyone wants a part two on this fic, please send me in the askbox! 🥰 I made that Corpse and y/n to move into London because Y/n want to be with her older brother more closer who’s Felix.

part two is up now!

Part two

Warnings: Couple fight, angst, swear words, felix being a protective brother and Marzia being a cutie.

You and Corpse never fought against with each other often.

He had mental problems and he was afraid to loose the one he loved.

But one day, he just snapped and he didn’t knew when you would come back to his arms.

The others stared to notice that something was wrong with Corpse. He wasn’t laughing and he was more quiet than he normally was. His fans also noticed that Corpse began to act weird that week.

They knew about your relationship with Corpse. The two of you would often compliment to each other on the social medias. But when some people noticed that you had unfollowed him, they were confused.

He started to blame himself that it was all his fault because of just one fight. But he realized then how much lonley you must’ve been without his presence.

You had moved into Corpse’s apartment before the fight had begun. It was simply because you hanged out in his apartment more than you usually be at yours.

The two of you were happy for a couple of months before the two of you drifted away from each other. You didn’t know how it happened because it seemed that the two of you were so in love with each other that it was impossible to split up.

You took one of the plates from the cabinet. Unknowingly, you took two plates before you stopped yourself as you glanced towards the table. It has been weeks where you tried to get Corpse to eat dinner with you.

He had denied and told you that he wasn’t hungry and that he was busy to edit a video. You knew about his messed up schedule and you just shrugged it away. But sometimes, it was too much and it felt you were lonely.

As you let out a sigh, you placed the plates on the table before you went towards Corpse’s room. ‘’Hey, Babe?’’ You asked him quietly as you opened the door. The light was out and the only thing you saw was Corpse staring at his computer in the darkness.

Corpse let out a hum without he took a glance at you. ‘’It’s dinner time, I was asking you if you wanted some food?’’

‘‘Maybe, later, Ok?’‘ He would respond as his eyes were still locked towards the computer. ‘‘Are you sure?’‘ You asked again hesitantly. He turned around this time as he met your eyes.

He stood up as he approached you. ‘’I’m sure, I will be with you next time but now, I have so much going on right now,’’ He replied as he kissed you on the lips. ‘’Ok,’’ you mumbled as he smiled softly before he turned away as you left his room.

It kept continuing like this. Every time you would come inside his room and you would ask him if he wanted to eat dinner or do other stuff other than playing games and editing his videos. Corpse would awlays shrug it away or he would ignore you whenever you would come into his room.

But this time, he couldn’t and this time, Corpse really lost it.

‘‘Corpse, do you want to-’‘ You were about to say your sentence before he sighed and snapped.

‘‘No, y/n, I don’t fucking want to how many times I have to say that to you to understand?’‘ He snapped as he looked at you angirly before he took of his headphones.

‘‘I’m getting sick of you coming into my room and disturbing my work,’‘ He replied as you looked at him with an offended expression. ‘‘Excuse me? And you don’t know how I’ve been feeling for the past months?’‘ You spat out.

‘‘No, and I don’t care because I’m here working while you’re the one who’s always mothering me,’‘

‘‘What’s that supposed to mean?’‘ You questioned him as you could feel your hear breaking.

‘‘You always ask me that I need to eat or take at least a break! I know how to take a break I’m a grown up!’‘ He yelled as you scoffed. ‘‘Well, I just want to take care of you, how hard is that supposed to see?’‘

‘‘Well, maybe I don’t want you to fucking care about me!’‘ He groaned in frusteration. ‘‘I thought you wanted this,’‘ You told him after a silence as you could feel your tears streaming down.

‘’Maybe I thought that this was wrong,’‘ He said. ‘‘My life was better before you came,’‘ He spat as you felt your stomach drop to your core as a million pieces broke your heart towards that sentence.

‘‘Fine, if you wanted me to leave, you just have to say it,’‘

‘‘Then leave, I don’t care if you don’t come back,’‘ He replied as he watched you slam the door from his gaming room. You packed the stuff you needed to survive for the last of couple of days as you texted Marzia on your phone.

Y/n:

Hey, can I come over and stay with you guys for the last couple of days?

Merz 🥰:

Ofc, is everything alright?

Y/n:

I’ll tell you everything later, I just want to be somewhere else without Corpse.

You sighed in relief when Marzie had accepted your request. You knew that Felix was going to be angry towards Corpse later when you’ve told him about everything. But right now, you don’t need your big brother’s protectiveness. You just need some time to process this. With a final look towards your shared apartment you closed the door before you went to your brother’s place without looking back.

Corpse heard the door slam in the hallway. He sighed exhausted before he kept working. But the words still stuck inside his head. He knew that Felix was going to be angry at him of what he had done. Because after he had confessed his love for his younger sister, Felix had threatened him if he was hurting her, he would pay for it.

He started to reflect back towards the past few weeks. He realized that how lonely you must’ve been without his presence. ‘’Fuck,’’ He swore to himself before he saw a notificaiton onto his phone.

Pewds:

You’re dead.

#corpse husband x reader #corpse husband #corpse husband imagines #corpse husband fanfic #corpse fic #pewdiepie x sister reader #felix kjellberg x sister reader #among us

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ezgithechaotic · 3 years

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The Parent Trap | Chapter Six; to love someone else

pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

AU: The Parent Trap, dad!harry

series summary: Identical twins Benjamin and Edward, separated at birth and each raised by one of their biological parents, later discover each other for the first time at summer camp and make a plan to bring their wayward parents back together.

chapter summary; There are so many thing to say, but so little time for Harry and Y\N.

author note; well hello there, ı’m back. It’s been really long and I’m so soryy about it. But I guess you guys are used to it. I will try to write the next chapter soon! Don’t be shy to send me a message if you would like to talk and be friends. I don’t bite, I promise!

I’m sorry in advance if I have any fault. English is not my first language. My askbox is always open if you want to talk. Please leave a comment about what you think, love you.

Taglist is open. Please send me an ask or comment if you want to be tagged! (22\30)

The Parent Trap Masterlist, main masterlist

Life had a funny way of bringing people together, and it had no interest in their desires. Sitting on one of the blue couches, a coffee in her hand, the only thing Y\N wanted to do was run away and never look back. But she wasn't eighteen anymore; she had learned that running from your problems only circled you back to them. So, she did what every reasonable person would do, stayed put. But now, seeing her hand shaking while holding the silver spoon, Y\N was questioning every decision she ever made that brought her to this point.

So much for getting over him Y\N, well done.

"You look good."

The moment words left his mouth Harry cursed himself silently. You look good. Of course, she did. Is that what he all had? After almost nine years, Y\N still made him tongue-tied. He wasn't the Harry who stood in front of thousands of people to perform; he was a boy again, and he hated it. He was eighteen again, seeing his producer's sister and thinking, maybe he is capable of love. Despite feeling like it was yesterday, Harry wasn't eighteen anymore. He didn't have the opportunities to be stupid and in love. It had been a long time since Harry had lost that chance. Wishing he could say sorry and explain anything wasn't going to solve anything, and it surely wasn't going to bring him his old Y\N, who was naive enough to fall in love with a worldwide star. She knew better now. So, maybe the only thing he could come up with was you look good.

Even though a moment of sadness passed her face, Y\N was quick to pull herself together. She put a kind smile on her face, the way she did when one of her customers made her feel tired, but she still had to keep going. Harry had seen that smile before when he told her he had to cancel one of their dates, again or when he told her that they couldn't be seen together in public.

"You look good too."

There it was again, her velvet-like voice. Y\N had always amazed Harry; she could be kind to everyone no matter what, even when the person across her was the reason for her broken heart. Neither of them dared to ask about their sons and each other. How would you ask about someone you chose to leave behind?

"Can I..." Y\N could feel her anxiety riling up. She took a deep breath and tried sitting more straight. "How is he?"

Harry's heart almost skipped a beat. He couldn't decide if he was stupid to send him away. Would it be less awkward if Benjamin was there, or would it be a dread to explain to him why his mother was standing in the middle of their guest room?

"Look, I know we had an agreement." Y\N sighed. Harry didn't realize how much time it took him to come up with an answer until she spoke. "I only want to know how he is."

"He's... Well, he's good."

Harry apparently lost his ability to form any good sentences that day, but it looked like he was talking to a brick wall. Y\N left her cup on the coffee table, now leaning and resting her elbows on her knees.

"I feel like I'm doing a terrible job." Eyes fixed on the ground and watery, head between her hands, Harry couldn't remember the last time he had seen Y\N so vulnerable. "Edward is the sweetest boy, I swear. He's the perfect kid any parent could ask for. And I feel like I'm the worst mother for tearing him apart from his brother, for not giving him the life he deserves. And the only thing I can think of is would he be happier if he were with you." She was up suddenly, pacing around the room.

"And how much I missed from Benjamin's life. Will, he ever know me, or Edward ever know you? Will they ever know each other? Will they ever forgive us for what we did?" She stopped, looking at Harry. She couldn't remember how long it had been since she looked into his green eyes. She wanted to keep going. Scream, shout, cry. But she stood there, looking at him, waiting like he could give her an answer.

Will I ever forgive myself for letting you go?

Y\N wanted to keep asking, but there was no point. She stopped a tear before it could reach her jaw, quickly. "God, I don't know how long I've been holding that in."

Harry was dying to apologize, to ask if she was missing him as much as he was missing her. He was dying to fall at her feet and beg for forgiveness. Instead, he sat there, like an idiot.

"We were young, Y\N. We did what we thought was best. Wrong or right, there is no undoing it right now."

Hearing her name roll off his sweet mouth woke something inside Y\N. She had so many things she wanted to say but didn't know where to begin. Her mouth was frantically opening and closing back again, but nothing came out.

Sarah and Mitch were just outside the room, trying to listen to the conversation. "I swear he's so stupid," Mitch whispered. "Just say something!"

"Hey, be quiet. I'm trying to listen."

Before Mitch could say anything, he heard key sounds coming from the front door. He quickly turned to Sarah. "Camille wasn't visiting today, right?" He was praying that it wasn't Camille, but there wasn't anyone outside them who had keys to Harry's house.

"Shit."

"I know you're a great mother, Y\N; I know that. And I know we did wrong things, but that doesn't mean you're failing."

"I feel like I am." Y\N was still standing there, her fingers fidgeting with her white shirt. She wanted to yell, how could he possibly know what kind of mother she was? He was never there. Harry stood up with a purpose to walk to Y\N and maybe to hold her. But his actions stopped when the door to the guest room opened.

And there she was, Camille Rowe with all her glory. Blonde hair sitting on her shoulders, red-colored lips, and long lashes, she looked like she came straight from a runway. And Y\N tried with all her might, but she couldn't hate her. Even though her pants were horrible, even though she always used her beauty to get away with her cruelty. And, true, the diamond ring sitting on her finger was no help, but still, she had no hate for her. It wasn't Camille's fault that she was at his feet, basically asking Harry to fix everything because she was too vulnerable.

How Y\N wished she could love somebody else that wasn't Harry. She wished she could move on as he did. But it was stuck, her whole life was stuck since he left her without any explanation. Sometimes she would feel so ready to love someone else, to find anybody willing to take her this broken. She tried so hard, lying to herself, making everyone believe she got over him. She didn't listen to any of his songs, watch anything that could be related to him. She was running away for the last nine years, not once stopping and looking back. Well, look where it brought her to now, sitting in the same room with him and his fiancee, who had no idea how much history they had.

"I honestly love everything piece you do." Did she? Y\N couldn't tell if Camille knew everything or not. But if she did, she was a damn good actress. And Y\N was terrified of what could come after this if she didn't leave that house right now. "I would love it if you worked on my wedding dress."

Y\N's whole world was upside down at that moment. Her hair on her neck stood on end. Her whole body was shivering; she didn't know if it was rage or hurt. Still, the smile came up again.

"I'm afraid I'm too busy with my new collection."

"Well, I will have to find someone else, I guess." Camille laughed, her hand sneaking up Harry's leg. Y\N was burning, her blood felt like it was boiling inside her veins. She needed to get out of there, quick. "But I'm so glad Harry could reach somebody. He had been looking for that cardigan for days, now. I thought he was going crazy." She laughed again, unlike everyone else in the room but, apparently she didn't care.

"It was no problem, honestly. Jonathan is a dear friend of mine; I was just doing a favor." Y\N couldn't believe how calm she sounded. Maybe she should have chosen to be an actress.

"I'm sure you're very busy, but we would love to see you at the wedding. Right, honey?" Camille turned to Harry, waiting for his approval. Harry quickly nodded as if he was waiting to agree to everything she was saying. "Of course."

"I'll have to see, I guess." Y\N didn't know how much longer she could pretend like everything bathed in sunlight. So, she got up, ignoring the shaking in her legs. "I should go, my team is probably waiting for me."

"It was lovely to meet you." Camille held her hand out. Her grasp was hard like she was telling Y\N to start running and never look back again. Still, Y\N stood her ground, firmly taking her handshake and smiling. Her eyes meet Harry's for a second. There were so many things she wanted to say, but she didn't think anything that she could say would turn this around. So, she lied instead.

"Congratulation on the engagement. You two make a lovely couple."

Y\N couldn't believe she could lie so effortlessly, without any trembling in her voice. Still, shaking Camille's warm hand and seeing her next to Harry with a diamond on her hand made her want to get in her car and run away to somewhere very far away that she could throw up. So, she did that.

TAGLIST: @yllwtaxi @meredithhuntt @soullessbabee @xoxoellll @2kayla64 @sometrueaffection @fromthedt @angelbabyivy @kennedywxlsh @harrymarvel @kisskillstudio @pouge-h @sunsetcurve-h @odetostep @yhound @chubby-dumpling @swtxel @moonstarrnghtsky @blackfarrahfawcett @deeppoetryface @butterflycloss @revise-it-all

If your tags don’t work, please check if your email is verified on tumblr.

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #the parent trap #the parent trap au #the parent trap au moodboard #harry styles the parent trap au #one direction #one direction imagine

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therealvalkyrie · 4 years

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Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 5

very pretty, very beautiful

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: intoxication, swearing, feelings, nightmare, fluff, mentions of a deadly car accident

AN: WHOAH OKAY. So I’ve been thinking about the last half of this chapter every second of every minute for the last two days. It has haunted my dreams, y’all. Thanks to that, you get this before the weekend! Yay! Special thanks to @ghostlightprincess, @anlian-aishang, @cant-spell-slay-without-lay, and @horseanon--simpforall for helping me edit and giving me many encouragements and compliments which, quite frankly, made my head the size of Jupiter. I love you all dearly. As always, let me know what you think in my comments/DMs/askbox!! Don’t be a stranger!! And be kind to yourself and others<3 ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 4 here)

“I think you’re very pretty.”

I think you’re very pretty?

Fuck. Shit.

“I-I-I mean,” Levi feels his throat tighten and cheeks set ablaze, “You’re very, uh, very beautiful.” He says it because it’s true, and the truth is what Levi relies on when his brain is short-circuiting. You’re more than pretty, more than something as trivial as very pretty, you’re gorgeous and smart and funny and it makes his palms sweat. Recently, you’ve been everywhere: in his bed, in his arms, in the periphery of his life even outside of the apartment. It’s overwhelming, this is overwhelming, how his hands are on you and how you’re looking up at him with insecure, anticipatory eyes. They’re glassy and red-rimmed, pupils blown to saucers.

Oh. That’s right, she’s high.

Levi lets his hand drop from the top of your head. He tries to move his other hand away from your cheek, but you grasp his wrist to keep it there. He can feel his own pulse fluttering under your fingertips.

“Very beautiful?” It’s soft, hopeful.

He forces himself not to retract the statement (because it’s true) out of self-preservation.

“Very beautiful, kid.” He can say it without stuttering this time. It’s important that you believe him, and it’s equally important that this is as far as it goes.

You close your eyes against the pet name and turn your face into his palm for a split second, press a swift kiss to it and then drop your hand to your lap. His heart stutters. He drops his hand, too.

“Thank you,” the words fall past your lips, careful and distant, as he takes a step back.

He needs some space. To get his head on straight, to scream into a pillow, to talk some sense into himself. Can’t risk this, not with you, not with you.

“Your, um, your pajamas,” he points to the end of the bed where they’re sitting in a neat pile, then turns tail and strides out of your room, shutting the door behind him.

In his room, his jelly legs finally give out and he flops onto his bed.

Fucking hell.

“Do you think I’m pretty?”

What kind of question is that? Do you not think you’re pretty? Do you care if he, specifically, thinks you’re pretty, or was it intended more generally? Very pretty, very beautiful. What does that even mean?

Levi may not be eloquent in the least, may not know how to confess that you make his every breath burn in his chest, but he does know how to paint. He stands up, wiping sweaty palms on his flannel pants and examining the painting on his easel. His mom stares back, her eyes sparkling, her hair tumbling over one shoulder in ebony waves. It had taken him the last few days to get the curls just right, and when he added the last highlights of shine, it’d finally felt complete.

“Sorry, mama,” he murmurs as he lifts her to set her against the wall under the window.

A new canvas procured from his closet finds its place on the easel. He sifts through his supply drawers for a moment, setting paints and brushes and charcoal neatly on his desk.

He takes a deep breath, situates himself in his wheelie chair, and leans forward to start sketching.

—

It’s 5 AM when you start screaming in a long, shuddering cry, causing Levi to jolt up in his seat, paintbrush poised over your left temple. It breaks off into sobs that make his gut twist and hands clench. A long moment, then you’re letting out another keening wail and Levi is out of his seat. Paint splatters from the brush where he drops it on his desk and his chair rolls back as he runs, ripping doors open and narrowly avoiding furniture in the dark.

You’re sprawled out, thrashing on the bed, sheets tangled with your legs. Levi sits on the edge of your bed, brows pinched in worry, and reaches for your shoulders. This is okay — he can touch you when you ask for his help. When you whimper and reach for him in your sleep, he can pull you close and smooth a hand across the planes of your back. It’s when you’re looking at him, all trusting and expectant for something, that he’s unsure.

He says your name, low and urgent, once, twice, before your eyes open mid-sob. They’re wide and terrified, your jaw tight, muscles clenched. “It’s me, kid, it’s just me,” he intones, “It was just a dream, you’re safe, it’s just me.”

Your heaving chest slows for a second, hitches somewhere in your sternum, and then you’re launching yourself forward and into him. He catches you there, steady against his chest.

“Breathe.” He sets an example with his own deep breaths.

It’s a long minute before he feels you relax at all, before he feels you sigh against his neck. Your arms are tight around his middle and you must be stronger than you look because after a while it starts to pinch. He doesn’t mind, though, just traces patterns on your back and stares at the pale wall.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He feels you shake your head.

“Do you want to go back to sleep?”

You hesitate before you whisper, “Only if you stay.”

Levi thinks about the wet paintbrush currently drying to his desk. He thinks about the mess of clothes on your floor. He thinks of the half-finished painting of you in his room. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

You pull back, and he gets a look at your face in the near-dark. Your eyes are still acutely haunted, but they’ve regained awareness. He lets you take a moment to wipe at your cheeks as he reaches to gently disentangle the sheets and spread them more carefully over your legs.

He looks up at you again to catch your sad eyes with his. Your head is tilted quizzically, knowingly, sympathetically all at once as though he were the one who just woke up screaming. It makes him itch.

“What’s that look for?” he grumbles, toeing his slippers off and tucking them under your bed.

“Nothing,” you hum. “Come here, please.”

He blinks at you for a second. That’s my line. But he goes, crawling into bed with you and slipping under the covers. He lets you tug his arm gently so that he’s on your chest. He gets comfortable there, one arm thrown over your waist and head rested over your heart. Your own arms find a home cautiously around him. You exhale with the grounding pressure of his body on yours and let your mind sink into calm release.

—

The knock on your door breaks your attention from your laptop. You sigh, finish typing your sentence, and push your blue light glasses up your nose before standing up to answer it.

You’re not expecting anyone, but maybe Levi is. He’s been holed up in his room all morning, Chopin drifting lazily under his door, probably studying. Like you’ve been trying to. The second series of knocks on your door makes you jog the last few steps to pull it open.

“Hi—” the greeting dies in your throat when you see who’s standing there.

“Hi,” Annie says. She’s standing, nonchalant as ever, in her winter parka and leggings, holding two to-go cups and a pastry bag.

“What?” It’s a breathless question, genuinely confused. It doesn’t harbor the animosity you would expect — you’re not sure you can feel anything other than queasy right now.

“I got your voicemail.”

You blink in confusion. She rolls her eyes and thrusts the to-go cups at you with a brief “hold these” before reaching into her pocket for her phone. You just stare at her while she taps and scrolls for a minute. She looks the same as before you stopped speaking: blonde hair tucked into a bun at the back of her head and hoodie peeking out of the collar of her jacket. Maybe a little more tired, though Annie always seemed to be tired.

She holds up her phone for you to hear as a voicemail starts playing and, to your further shock, your own tinny voice spills out. It sounds like you’re crying, and slightly muffled.

“Annie, hi, um, I know it’s late but I couldn’t think of anyone else to call, I just,” sniffle, “I know we’re not talking and I’m still mad at you, like REALLY MAD, okay? But I couldn’t think of who else to call and long story short I think I’m in love with Levi and he might’ve just rejected me but I just couldn’t tell—”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you cut in across your own voice, stepping into the hall with her and toeing the door almost shut behind you. She stops the voicemail. “But why are you here?” You know why she’s here — Annie never backs down from anything, and you had started the conversation, even if you’d been drunk and high and half asleep and you don’t really remember doing it.

“You called, here I am. That’s what best friends do.” Her tone is even.

“Not best friends who fuck their best friends’ boyfriends,” you snap, anger finally bursting from your stomach and into your throat.

She closes her eyes impatiently, sighs, then looks at you again not quite pleadingly.

“Look, if you want me to leave, I’ll leave. But I’m here now and there’s more to the story that you aren’t aware of.”

“What else could there possibly be?”

“Let’s go for a walk and I’ll tell you,” she offers, then holds up the pastry bag. “I brought coffee and donuts. They’re jelly.”

Jelly donuts are your favorite.

You look down at the cups in your hand. You look back at her steady blue gaze. More to the story.

“Fine.” You turn and kick the door open a little too harshly. “Just let me get dressed.”

She follows you in, even though you don’t extend an invitation, and closes the door softly. You put the cups down on the coffee table and watch her sit in her usual spot on the couch to wait for you out of the corner of your eye. You scowl but say nothing.

It only takes you a minute to shuck off to pajamas and pull on jeans, a sweatshirt, and boots. You don’t bother with a bra.

You knock lightly on Levi’s door and call through, “I’m going for a walk, so make sure to lock up if you leave. I have my keys.” You jingle them as evidence and he grunts in acknowledgment. “Let’s go,” you turn and address Annie, who stands.

The walk down your street to the river is short and habitual, your feet carrying you while your mind races. You can feel the anger and hurt, visceral and stabbing, in your chest. But there’s also something tender there, too, something that acknowledges how you missed your best friend. Something that screams at you to tackle her to the ground and feel her stoic comfort. Instead, you shove your hands deeper into the pockets of Eren’s jacket and kick a pebble, sending it skidding down the sidewalk.

The pair of you reach the walking bridge over the river and pause at the railing. The sky is overcast, threatening a snowstorm. A car beeps downtown, reaching you distantly. Annie hands you a coffee and a donut. You lean against the railing and avoid her gaze.

“So. You wanted to talk. Talk.” You bite into the donut.

She sighs through her nose. “I know what you saw. We… we did kiss, but we didn’t do anything else. We never had sex.”

“Hmm.” A sip of coffee.

“I know you have no reason to believe me, but it’s the truth. I’m guessing you didn’t exactly listen to Reiner when you broke up with him?”

“I didn’t have time for his bullshit excuses.”

She breaks off a bit of her donut and stares at it contemplatively for a moment, “I know you don’t owe either of us anything, and this isn’t meant as an excuse, but will you listen to why, at least?”

You press your lips together, sneak a look into her devastatingly blue eyes, and nod. What harm can it do? And you have to admit there’s a large part of you that’s been wondering at the why, even if you’ve refused to hear it.

“Okay. Tell me why.”

She takes a deep breath and leans her elbows on the railing before starting to speak, low and pensive.

“I’ve known Reiner and Bertholdt a long time, since we were kids. We’ve always been this… this odd group. You wouldn’t think we were close if you didn’t know us. But it wasn’t always just us.” She pauses, looking distant. “Do you know Porco Galliard?”

Galliard… “He’s a sophomore on the lacrosse team, right?”

“Yeah. Do you know what happened to his brother?”

“He has a brother?”

“Had. Marcel. He was a year older than us but somehow ended up in our little group. And a couple of years ago, senior year of high school, we were all in a car accident. He was home on winter break and we’d all had a little too much to drink, and we convinced him to take us to Denny’s for midnight milkshakes. And, well, there was a winter storm coming in and it’d been freezing rain that week, and we crashed. Marcel died. It was… I hadn’t…” She pauses, tilting her head back to the sky, blinking away tears. “It was horrible.”

Your eyes have gone wide, cast downriver. You don’t know what you’d expected when you walked down here, but it certainly wasn’t this. It wasn’t Annie, only rivaled in her stoicism by Levi, choking back tears and wiping snot from her nose.

“Hey,” you start, voice gentler than it’s been all day. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, I want to, just... give me a second,” she interjects, wringing out a hand. She takes a deep, purposeful breath.

“Okay,” you whisper, looking back out across the water.

“It, uh, it hit us all really hard, brought us really close together. That’s why we all ended up at school here, actually. It kinda made us realize that, like, time is limited, you know? We don’t have forever. And Bertl, he…” she smiles, watery and reminiscent. “When he asked me out, it felt like a long time coming. It was just about perfect. He felt safe and like home, and… well, you know how in love we were. But I could see that it alienated Rei, at least a bit. He tried not to show it, but I could tell he felt like a third wheel. He was already drifting away from us, still struggling with all this guilt.”

Your breath catches in your throat. That’s a familiar feeling. Guilt. And yet, you’d never noticed it in Reiner, apparently never got close enough to shine a flashlight into his darkest shadows. He’d always seemed so… sunshiney. You clearly hadn’t given him enough credit to dislodge the aura of jock frat boy he projects so brightly.

Soft dough squishes under your fingertips where you’ve resorted to playing with your food instead of eating it as Annie continues.

“And then he met you and fell in love so fast. I was so relieved, I mean, you and I were roommates and it was just perfect, right?” You look at her and see a flicker of hopefulness still there. “I thought maybe you two getting together would bring him back to us, that maybe we’d be alright after all. And at first, it did. But then you moved off campus for sophomore year and he started drifting away again, though he was at least anchored to you, this time. It scared me, it really did.”

She kicks the bottom of the railing lazily, as if to expend the sadness there rather than in her words. The first fat flakes of snow drift down around you. One dances away on your exhale.

“He’s so withdrawn, sometimes, in his own head, and I never know how to reach him there. I didn’t know if he had told you about Marcel, or anything, so I couldn’t go through you. I don’t… I didn’t know what to do, so I just... let it fester. That night, when we kissed, I hadn’t seen him physically for a month. It hurt.”

She looks at you imploringly, like the weight of everything she’s saying lies on deep hurt. You can relate to feeling as though there’s nothing but hurt and guilt and drifting.

“So I figured out where he was from his Snapchat story, abandoned my group project, and went over there to see him. I didn’t know what I’d say or do when I got there, just that I had to get him back, somehow. He was already plastered, you know how he gets, and he wasn’t listening to me, so I just… kissed him. I don’t know what I was thinking, I didn’t know you were there, I didn’t even know you saw until he called me the next day after you broke up with him to chew me out.

“So, long story short,” her voice breaks on a mournful, almost hysterical laugh, “I fucked up the three most important relationships to me in one night because I couldn’t use my words.” She wipes at wet cheeks, not looking at you. “So, um. Yeah, that’s the why, I guess. I don’t expect you to forgive me, or him, but I just… I needed you to know. It wasn’t like, this elaborate affair.”

You aren’t sure how to right your brain from the way it’s tilted off kilter. It’s so much, so different from what you’d built up in your head. There’s no conspiracy, no grand intention to break you.

Even with all this new information, what stupidly slips out first is, “Did he kiss you back?” You blanch, turn to her with wide eyes, “Sorry, that’s not exactly im—”

“No, it’s fine,” she meets your eyes. “He did kiss me back.”

“Oh. Okay, um…” you trail off, bite your lip. You don’t know what exactly to say. Your skin is tight with the urge to forgive her immediately and wholly, but logic holds you back. Now that you know the truth, you need time to heal and get some perspective. You straighten up from where you’d been slouching against the railing. “Okay. You’ve been honest, so I will be, too.”

She stands up fully as well, facing you with one hand on the railing.

“I don’t know how I feel right now,” you start. “I think I need some time and perspective. But, I… I can see now where I went wrong, too. I assumed the worst, didn’t let any communication happen.” You swallow down the lump in your throat threatening to choke your voice. “And, I wasn’t there for Rei like I should have been. I had no idea — no idea! — what he was going through.”

“Well, he didn’t exactly tell you—”

“And why is that?” Your voice breaks, squeaks with the question. “Did he feel like he couldn’t confide in me? Did I make it too much about me and my trauma? I wasn’t exactly shy about telling him my shit.” You take a long draw of coffee. “Anyway. I should probably talk to him, shouldn’t I?”

She nods. “He’d like that.”

You’re both quiet for a moment, watching the sparse snow flurry around you. Annie finally starts eating her donut.

“I’ve missed you,” you confess into the storm. “A lot.”

“I missed you, too.”

Your chest aches with both the cold air and the conflicting feelings of relief and regret.

“Why, uh… why didn’t you tell me all that stuff about Marcel?”

She leans on the railing again, takes a sip of coffee before answering. ��I was still working through it. Still am, rather. I didn’t know how to bring it up, or that it was relevant.”

You hum, nodding. “I get that.”

There’s another silence, but it feels lighter, less charged. There are still questions bouncing around your mind, but you decide it’s better to process through them on your own rather than blurting out something stupid. Perspective.

“So,” she shoots you a look under blonde eyelashes, “what’s this about you being in love with Levi?”

“Aw, shit,” you laugh, leaning your elbows back on the railing and giving her an imploring look. “It really snuck up on me.”

“Is that so? Can’t say I’m shocked.” Her tone is dry, a little amused around the last bite of jelly donut. She wipes her fingers on her leggings and faces you. “And you think he rejected you.”

“Well, I…” you cringe, thinking back to last night. “He called me very beautiful.”

“Doesn’t sound like a rejection.”

“It was the way he said it! Like it physically hurt him to admit, and then he just ran out of the room,” you whine, scrubbing a hand down your face.

“I think that’s just his emotional constipation.”

You look at her sharply, mouth agape, to catch her eyes dancing and the corner of her lip curling upward slightly. “Annie!”

“What? I’m right.” She finishes off her coffee, tilting back the cup to catch the last dregs of it. “He likes you, or he’s an idiot if he doesn’t.”

You narrow your eyes in doubt, mirroring her half-smile. “Hmm. We’ll see.”

“Yes,” she promises, crumpling up the pastry bag in her fist and stuffing it in her pocket. “We will.”

—

(read part 6 here)

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #aot fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #snk fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #female!reader #levi ackerman #annie leonhart #swearing #intoxication #painter's hands and guatemalan coffee #valkyrie writes

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musical-shit-show · 2 years

Text

Two Sides: Chapter 6

Previous Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Characters: Musical!Beetlejuice, Female!OC, Lydia Deetz, Barbara Maitland, Adam Maitland

Warnings: anxiety, terrible attempts at flirting, panic attacks, cursing, mentions of death, a lot of bickering, and a little bit of angst if you squint

Word Count: 3,022

Author’s Note: Wow, I had a realization a few weeks ago that I never update this fic. Like ever. And that's a shame because I really liked writing it. AND I just saw Beetlejuice on Broadway this past weekend so I've been inspired to write more for these characters (to fill the void of post show depression of course). If there's been anyone reading this, I'm so sorry it took so long. I will get better at posting now, I promise. Writing brings me so much joy and I have to make time for it at least every other day, so if you've stuck around, thank you!! Please check out my Masterlist here and my About Me page. I also have a couple Prompt Lists if you want to request anythign specific in my Askbox. As always, I appreciate any comments or constructive criticism. Enjoy!

“So help me God if you force me to watch Poltergeist one more time, Beej, I think I’m gonna lose it.”

“Lyds, listen, it’s hysterical. How can you not love that movie?!”

“After watching it a hundred times with you, I’d say it’s pretty easy.”

Cassandra gingerly descended the staircase a little over an hour and a half after her encounter with Beetlejuice to hear bickering between Lydia and the demon, both of whom were sprawled out on the couch, arguing about which movie to select for the evening. Adam and Barbara were in the kitchen, preparing popcorn and a small assortment of candy for the living girls to munch on while the movie played.

“Do you think she’ll come down soon?” Adam mumbled worriedly, pinching a bag of popcorn open and dumping into a large serving bowl. Barbara nodded as she smiled knowingly. “Yes, we just have to give her time,” she cooed at her husband, “Her entire world turned upside down today.” Cassandra felt a pang in her chest at the kindness of the two. However, that warmth was overshadowed by the other specter in the room.

“Ugh, Lyds, come on!” the demon whined, nudging Lydia’s rib cage with his elbow, “you know it’s a classic.” The rasp of Beetlejuice’s voice made the hairs on the back of Cassandra’s neck stand on end, activating her ‘fight or flight’ response and making her stomach plummet. She knew she shouldn’t be nervous about being around him. He was friends with Lydia for a reason, even if that reason wasn’t immediately apparent since he seemed to be, well, a walking disaster. This was going to be tougher than she thought.

Beetlejuice’s ears perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, but he immediately rolled his eyes when he saw Cassandra descending from the second floor, an uneasy look in her eye. Annoyance seethed through his undead body as he scanned her like a predator stalking its prey.

Seconds later, the rest of the inhabitants of the house noticed Cassandra’s presence as well, the tension growing in the room. Barbara glanced nervously at Adam. She decided that she would tell Lydia about Cassandra’s panic attack in private, seeing as there had been more than enough drama for one day and she didn’t want to embarrass Cassandra any further.

Lydia stared at her best friend with bated breath. Was this too much for her? Had she decided that the lawlessness of her childhood home wasn’t worth the headache any longer, and she would simply walk out, collect her things from their shared apartment, and never speak again?! Lydia’s imagination ran wild with heartbreaking scenarios while her roommate stood in front of the entire household.

Cassandra took a deep breath, attempting to steady herself. “Okay, no more surprises, yeah?” she asked jokingly to the room, cutting the tension like a hot knife through butter. Her voice was still noticeably shaky, “At this rate I don’t think my heart can take it.” Lydia grinned, and the Maitlands exchanged a knowing glance between them. Any friend of Lydia’s would have to be understanding of the unorthodox arrangement the house had settled into over the years, and they were glad that she had found someone that could easily roll with the punches, no matter how bizarre they might be.

Lydia sprang from the couch, disturbing Beetlejuice’s position in the process, in order to wrap her Cassandra in an enormous hug. The demon grumbled, not only because he now had to reposition himself on the couch so he could get comfortable again, but also because his dislike of his best friend’s roommate had permeated over the last couple of hours.

Despite a part of him knowing he had been in the wrong, Beetlejuice was too stubborn and prideful to admit that he has gone too far with the girl. She had, after all, dealt with a lot of shocking information that day. The last thing she needed was to be made even more uncomfortable, and yet Beetlejuice egged her on regardless. Taking things too far was kinda his forte, and he typically had no problem doing so.

The demon’s hair drooped at the thought, turning a deep blue as the two girls giggled softly through their embrace. Cassandra pulled away, looking at Lydia intensely.

“But Lyds, no more secrets between us,” she held out her pinky, eyes narrowing, “agreed?” The raven-haired girl smirked, extending her pinky and gripping Cassandra’s tightly.

“Agreed,” she confirmed, “no more secrets. For real this time.” The two exhaled, feeling a certain weight lift off of their shoulders. With all of this behind them, Lydia felt as though she could finally relax and enjoy a weekend with the people she cared about.

A forced cough came from the couch. “Well, now that that’s settled,” Beetlejuice muttered dryly, his attention now back to the task at hand, his amber eyes glued to the television screen, “Is it gonna be Poltergeist, Exorcist, or Elm Street?” Lydia rolled her eyes slightly at the demon cutting in on a tender moment, but she knew that it was going to take some time for Beetlejuice to actually warm up to her roommate. Cassandra flushed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Whichever one is the least scary,” she blurted. Beetlejuice’s eyes narrowed, his face twisting into a slight grimace, “Sorry, horror movies aren’t, uh…really my thing.”

“Perfect,” he replied sarcastically, feeling as though he was dying all over again. This was going to be a long weekend.

***

The room was pitch black, save for the faint flicker of the TV screen. Adam and Barbara were curled up on the floor, wrapped in a blanket as the movie played in front of them. Barbara absentmindedly worked on a new cross stitch while Adam drew circles on his wife’s back, a muscle memory that he enjoyed partaking in even though she was no longer warm under his touch.

Beetlejuice sat on one end of the couch, his arms crossed squarely over his chest in a stance of defiance. His hair now sported a faint red tinge, his anger simmering ever since the new breather had infiltrated on one of his and Lydia’s sacred movie nights. Lydia, on the other hand, was unbothered by her demon friend’s pouting. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the couch, separating Beetlejuice and Cassandra, who was clinging to the other side of the sofa, nails digging into the leather upholstery.

Despite being best friends with Lydia, she had a hard time embracing horror movies. Even the older ones still made her jump out of her skin, despite the cheesy dialogue and questionable special effects. She took a breath, attempting to find something within the film to poke fun at so she could stave off her anxiety.

“So, why is Freddy Krueger going after all these horny teens? Doesn’t he have better things to do in the afterlife?” Lydia responded to her friend’s question by lobbing a piece of popcorn at Cassandra’s face, smiling as the kernel stuck to her hair.

Beetlejuice stewed, feeling his chest grow tight with envy at the two girls bonding as if he wasn’t even there. Cassandra didn’t fool him though, especially when it came to how desperately she wanted to please Lydia. Despite her best efforts, he could smell the fear on this new breather.

“Sounds like a hell of a good time if ya ask me,” he huffed, his voice low and menacing, “Piss off the wrong undead guy and that’s what ya get.” The demon looked past Lydia to eye Cassandra, who glared at him in the dimly lit room. She would’ve almost felt threatened by that comment had he not flashed an eerily disarming smile at her. Cassandra’s eyes narrowed.

“Oh, yeah, violent murder. Sounds like a barrel of laughs,” she said under her breath, internally panicking as her words fell impulsively from her mouth, “You must be great at parties.” Beetlejuice’s amber eyes glowered dimly in response to her snarky comment, his annoyance growing as he calculated a comeback in his head.

“Sweetheart, I’m a blast at parties, and I’m even better at murder,” he hissed, leaning forward again to meet her gaze, a Cheshire-catlike smile stretching across his face, “If you don’t believe me, I’d be just thrilled to show ya.” Cassandra felt a pit forming in her stomach, his unearthly irises and wicked smirk striking fear into her more than any stupid horror movie ever could.

“Beetlejuice!” Lydia scolded, the use of his true name making the specter wince in pain, “Stop being an ass and watch the movie.” Beetlejuice’s smile dropped, his gaze not wavering from Cassandra’s terrified hazel eyes. After a few tense seconds, he finally slouched back into the sofa, his eyes now glued to the film still playing on the screen. Cassandra did the same, screwing her face into a defiant frown as her she attempted to focus on the film. Her anger and fear soon consumed her, and she found the picture becoming blurrier as her eyes unfocused and her mind drifted into hatred for the demon.

The rest of the group sat in silence for the duration of the movie, not wanting another spat to break out as the two seethed on their respective ends of the sofa. As the credits rolled, Adam flicked on the lights, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes wearily. Though ghosts didn’t typically sleep, he and Barbara still got tired from time to time. Lydia rolled her shoulders and stood up, stretching her arms to the ceiling after sitting in the same position for such a long duration. Cassandra glanced over at Beetlejuice, still a little nervous to look squarely in his direction.

His hair was again a mixture of fiery red and somber blue, swirling as he furrowed his brow. After staring blankly at the floor for a moment or two, his eye caught Lydia’s, who was heading upstairs to bed. Her eyes narrowed, and he shot her an irritated look, raising an eyebrow. She groaned, dreading what was coming next. Without warning, Beetlejuice snapped his fingers and with a *pop* his form has disappeared from the couch, leaving Cassandra alone and utterly confused, a state she had grown accustomed to over the course of the day.

Adam and Barbara exchanged knowing, weary looks. “Don’t worry, hun,” Barbara mustered, detecting Cassandra’s worry, “It’s their, um, little secret language. Whenever one of them really needs to talk to the other, they give this…look.”

“Wow,” Cassandra scoffed, finally rising from the couch, setting an empty popcorn bowl onto the counter, “I just didn’t think they were that in synch.” She instinctively scratched at her nailbeds, a habit she had picked up in high school to cope with her anxiety. After the last few hours, the skin around her fingernails had become red and irritated from all of the ‘coping’ she had been doing.

“I wouldn’t worry about it,” Adam piped in, doing his best to quell her nervousness, “Beetlejuice is probably just blowing off some steam. Better he does it in front of Lydia than the rest of us.” Cassandra nodded absentmindedly, making her way towards the steps. The two ghosts smiled at her again and disappeared to the attic, leaving her to venture upstairs alone.

She passed Lydia’s room on her way down the hall, hearing a muffled, albeit disgruntled voice. It was clearly Beetlejuice’s rough drawl, and Cassandra crept up to the closed door, silently craning her body closer to pick up on the conversation more clearly. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Lyds,” he scoffed, “I tried being friends with her, but she wasn’t having any of it!” Cassandra felt her stomach drop. They were obviously talking about her.

“I wouldn’t call hitting on my roommate two seconds into meeting her constitutes as ‘trying to be friends’, Beej,” Lydia fired back, her voice coming clearly through the door now that Cassandra was practically pressed against it. There was a pause, and clearly Beetlejuice had been caught off guard. “Yeah, Barbara told me she and Adam walked in on Cass having an anxiety attack after I leave you alone with her for two minutes. That’s gotta be some kind of record for you, huh?”

Lydia’s words stung the demon, but he tried to tamper his anger as best as he could, his hair growing redder by the second. Cassandra smiled on the other side of the door, feeling glad that Lydia was at least attempting to stand up for her, “It’s not my fault she can’t take a joke!” he shot back, his tone defensive as he rambled, “Seriously, Lyds, I can’t fucking stand this breather. She’s boring and doesn’t laugh at any of my jokes and is a huge know-it-all...are you sure you don’t want me to get rid of her for ya…?”

Cassandra felt her breath hitch in the back of her throat, feeling tears well up behind her eyes. She contemplated running back to her room and crying silently at the demon’s harsh words, but before she knew it, her impulsive side took control. She gripped Lydia’s doorknob and swung it open, startling her roommate and her ghastly companion. “Cassie, I—” Lydia started, feeling her face grow red with anger and embarrassment. She would murder Beetlejuice if he weren’t already dead.

Cassandra tried to speak as hot, resentful tears pooled in her eyes. Beetlejuice could just stand and watch, completely caught off guard by the sudden and overdramatic turn of events.

“You,” Cassandra spat, directing her steady gaze at the ghoul, “Have no right to talk about me like that. All day I have been harassed and belittled by you, and joke or not, if you ever try that shit again with me, I’ll hit you so hard you might just feel it.” Beetlejuice’s eyebrows shot up, and the corner of his mouth twitched upwards slightly.

Though he thought she was completely insane for trying to go toe-to-toe with a literal demon, he almost admired her feisty little outburst. Maybe she wasn’t as dull as he first thought. Still, he felt a pit forming in his stomach; guilt, by all accounts, was a sensation rarely felt by the deceased, especially ones as powerful and mischievous as Beetlejuice.

“As fun as that sounds, toots, don’t get your panties in a twist,” he croaked, straightening his tie, “I don’t really wanna kill ya…unless that’s something you’d happen to be into?” Lydia punched the demon’s arm hard, and he winced despite barely feeling a tickle. All those years of abuse from Juno still plagued his muscle memory. Cassandra scoffed.

“Unbelievable,” she replied with disdain, folding her arms across her chest, “Just…unbelievable.” She turned on her heel, slamming the door behind her. The force rattled Lydia’s room, and Beetlejuice let out a small laugh.

“See what I mean?” he jeered, looking at the still rattling door, “Absolutely no sense of humor in that one, that’s for sure.” He turned to Lydia, but she was staring him down, a look of sheer fury in her dark eyes.

“Why do you have to antagonize every new person that walks through the door?!” Lydia questioned, her voice strained, “I care about Cass, she’s my best friend, and you couldn’t leave her alone for more than a few hours.” Beetlejuice could feel the roots of his usually vibrant hair turning a deep and somber purple, a clear sign that his conscience knew he had fucked up royally.

Lydia pinched the bridge of her nose, as if she were dealing with an unruly child. “Just—look, Cass is clearly very sensitive right now, given the day that she’s had,” the human girl tried explaining as delicately as possible, “Just please, for my sake, go easy on her until we leave?” Beetlejuice scrunched his face in annoyance, not wanting to give in. However, he gave a quick nod to his best friend, and his eyes softened slightly.

“Now get outta my room, weirdo,” she added, her tone more playful. She hated yelling at Beetlejuice, despite having to partake in that particular activity pretty frequently. The demon rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, disappearing in an instant. He appeared outside of Cassandra’s room, and raised an eyebrow at the soft music that emanated from underneath the door.

His acute sense of ghostly hearing didn’t detect any soft crying or muffled sobs. ‘Maybe she finally decided to get her shit together,’ Beetlejuice thought. For a second, he contemplated spying on her again; his previous attempt had proven successful, though it stung to know that this new girl had conjured feelings of such contempt for him so quickly.

Beetlejuice could hear her humming softly, a practice Cassandra had picked up to calm herself after a stressful situation. She even began to sing a little, the lyrics floating quietly out of her mouth pleasantly, soothing Beetlejuice’s mood. He was always drawn to music, and his undead body mimicked the feeling of butterflies in his stomach.

On the other side of the door, Cassandra was humming some indistinct pop song that had lulled her off to sleep on the trip up to Lydia’s house. It was unfathomable to think that less than 24 hours before, her life had been had completely normal. While she wanted to embrace this new reality she had stumbled her way into, it was almost impossible when she had a demon who was seemingly trying to make her hate him with a burning passion.

Beetlejuice had pressed himself up to her door, still listening intently before he realized the position he was in; floating inches above the creaky wood flooring, his undead heart fluttering like a Girl Scout with arrythmia. ‘What the hell is wrong with me?’ he thought, wiping the smile from his face and replacing it with a scowl, ‘She could sing like Celine Dion and it wouldn’t change the fact that she’s a little goody-two shoes.’

And with that, Beetlejuice disappeared from the hallway with another faint *pop*, leaving Cassandra with some true peace and quiet for the first time all day.

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benedictsvestcollection · 4 years

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Toepick!

Bucky Barnes x female reader AU

Summary: Bucky’s a hockey player turned pairs figure skater partner for reader who’s kind of a pain in the ass. (aka this is a Cutting Edge AU if anyone’s seen the movie)

Chapter warnings: Cursing, mentions of hockey violence, reader is a brat, Bucky is a sarcastic asshole (just like in the show!)

Author note: Unbetaed chapter, I don’t have a taglist for Bucky fics but send me a DM or ask if you want to be added to it I’ll make a taglist for my Bucky fics! Please reblog this and tell me what you think in my askbox!

Also thanks to @pisss-offf-ghostt for her hockey insight b/c I don’t know shit about hockey.

Chapter One

Bucky Barnes sat in a doctor’s office, two weeks after taking a puck to the face in a Winter Olympic game. It had hit him way too close to his eye and Coach Pierce had benched him the rest of the Games.

What’s worse is that it was his own fucking teammate who’d given him the injury. Brock Rumlow, their Enforcer, had always had it out for Bucky. God knows why, but maybe Rumlow had never forgiven his NHL team for beating theirs in the playoffs the year before. Or that Bucky had scored the winning goal of that same game.

Steve and Sam had always said Rumlow was a bad apple in the NHL and his Olympic spirit sucked too it seemed. So now, he was waiting on news from the doctor, telling him when he could start training for the next NHL season.

The doctor entered the room with Bucky’s file. “Well, doc? When can I get back on the ice?” He asked.

The doctor frowned at him and put his x-ray up on the lighted board to show him. “Son, I’m afraid you won’t be able to play hockey anymore.” He told him frankly. “You took quite a hit to your occipital bone and it hindered 80% of your peripheral vision in your right eye.”

“What?” He asked, unsure if he heard him right.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to go into retirement from hockey.” He told him, looking at the man with sympathetic eyes. He was a great player, had a lot of years left in him. He had watched that game, this wasn’t his fault.

Bucky sat there, shell shocked for several moments before slowly rising and putting his coat on. “Thanks doc.” He muttered before finally leaving the office and building. Fucking Brock Rumlow. He had seen the smirk on his lips after he’d opened his eyes from taking the hit to his face.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Steve’s number. “Hey, meet me at the usual place?”

“Everything okay Buck?” He’d asked his childhood best friend and now teammate.

“Just… I’ll tell you at the bar.” He growled out and then made his way to their favorite haunt. “Call Sam. I have news.”

Thirty minutes later, Bucky was nursing a beer at their favorite New York bar. Sam and Steve stared at him, shocked. “So what, now you have to retire? That’s bullshit man.” Sam shook his head.

“You think I don’t know that?” Bucky growled at his teammate. “My publicist wants to make an announcement soon.” He told them. “But I told her to hold off. I want some time to just… Absorb this.” He ran his hand through his hair frustratingly.

Bucky loved skating, how could he give it up? And Brock Rumlow gets to just keep playing? What a load of bullshit.

“Rumlow should be fined for that shit he pulled on you at the Games.” Steve shook his head.

“You really think being fined is what he deserves? Everyone knows it was a dirty move but Pierce is his coach in the NHL, he’s not gonna do shit about it.” Sam reminded Steve.

It was true, even the announcers had called it a dirty shot, and everyone who followed the NHL knew that Brock Rumlow had it out for Bucky Barnes. But Rumlow was Pierce’s guy and he wasn’t going to do anything to his player to jeopardize the next season of the NHL.

“Speak of the devil.” Sam whistled out and Bucky looked over his shoulder to see Rumlow entering the bar with his flavor of the month on his arm. Some up and coming model or something. Not that any of them kept track anymore of them.

“Hey boys! How’s the post-Olympics life treating you? As good as me?” He winked at his newest companion. “She’s a model.”

“Shocking.” Sam snorted from behind his beer. Smirking when Rumlow shot him a dirty look.

“So Barnes, how’s the eye?” Rumlow asked him casually, as if he hadn’t given him the very injury that now forced Bucky into early retirement.

Bucky’s grip tightened on his bottle. “It’s fine.” He ground out and gave him a hardened stare. It was true, physically he felt fine. But, he was about two seconds away from beating Rumlow to a pulp though. Hell, Steve and Sam would probably help him if he asked. But he also didn’t want any added press than the impending ‘early retirement’ announcement in the coming days.

“Look man, sorry about that. Guess the puck just got away from my stick, you know?” He said easily.

Holy shit, he was really just going to pretend it wasn’t his fault? Guess he shouldn’t be surprised.

“Yeah, you seemed real torn up about it.” Steve snapped at him. “The whole hockey world knows you have it out for Buck.” All four men, stood. All imposing figures as hockey players. “And everyone knows that was a dirty shot you took. The Olympics are supposed to be about coming together but you just used it for your own personal gain. You’re a disgrace.” Steve told him.

“You letting your pals stand up for you Barnes? What’s the matter? Too chicken shit to say anything yourself?” Rumlow taunted him.

Bucky stepped closer to him, almost chest to chest with the Enforcer. “Nope, I just know you’re not worth my time. You never have been, not even on the ice.” After several tense moments, Bucky finally stepped back. “I gotta go. I have a call to make. I’ll talk to you two later.” He looked at Sam and Steve before leaving some bills on the table for his beers and he purposely bumped into Rumlow before leaving the bar.

Once he was safely in his Brooklyn apartment, he called his publicist. “Mel? Hey, let’s just…. Make an announcement. Tomorrow. Just get it over with.” He told her. “There’s no point in delaying it.”

“Sure thing, we’ll just say you’re mulling over your post-hockey playing options. Maybe take a year off and figure out what you want. Book deals, coaching job, hell even a sports commentator.”

“Yeah. I’ll think about it, Mel. Thanks.” He hung up and tossed his phone on the counter and sighed.

Fucking Brock Rumlow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What part of locked arms don’t you fucking get?” You snapped at your latest partner ‘audition’ as you got up off your ass from being dropped again. “Where in the hell are you finding these idiots Maria?” You snapped at your coach as you skated away from the latest guy. “You’d think none of them knew a simple lift.”

Maria Hill, your coach for several years now was at the end of her rope. You’d rejected partner after partner for the past month and a half after you’d parted ways with your Olympic partner, from a disastrous showing at the Winter Olympics.

“Probably doesn’t help that you berate them before they even get their skates on.” She called from the side of the rink as Tony Stark, your guardian since you were fifteen years old (although you were in your twenties now and didn’t need a guardian anymore) and practically your big brother, entered with his five year old daughter Morgan in his arms.

“How’s it going?” He asked.

“You’re insane.” Your latest pairs auditioner told you as he hastily removed his skates and shoved his feet in his sneakers and grabbed his bag. “Good luck finding someone willing to put up with the ice princess.” He snorted and left.

“That good huh?” Tony asked with a sigh and watched you skate around the private ice rink on their property.

“I can’t help that they’re all idiots.” You told him and Maria sighed, rubbing her temples as Morgan giggled at your comment.

“You know, unless you work with any of these guys and Maria. You’re going to have to go to singles skating.” Tony warned you, knowing you hated singles skating. It always felt too lonely for you out on the ice alone. You had trust issues since you were a kid. Which was a double edged sword because you also had trouble trusting partners to not let you down.

“Alright, let’s just call it for the day. I have some calls to make for some more options.” Maria told you as you continued to skate. She turned to Tony. “Talk some sense into her. I don’t have many options left.” She muttered and then left.

Morgan sat at the edge of the rink putting her skates on to get ready for her private lesson. “Ice Princess, come on… Work with me.” Tony called to you.

You shot him a glare at the nickname but skated over to him, stopping promptly and showering his legs with ice. “Yes?” You asked him innocently.

“Don’t give me that shit. What’s your deal? You’ve rejected nearly eight perfectly good skaters in the past almost two months. And always over stupid shit.” He told you. “They’re either not strong enough, not fast enough, not graceful enough. None of which have been true.”

You wanted to curse back at him but knew Morgan was beginning to repeat everything and Tony was being hushed and you really didn’t want to hear Pepper ask why Morgan learned a new curse word from you. “I’m just particular, that’s all.” You defended yourself.

“Is that the word we’re using?” He snorted at you. “I know you have trust issues because of what happened. But you can’t keep using that excuse for skating. Not all those men are going to let you down. But they will if they pick up on your attitude and tension. You need to start giving some of them an actual chance.” He glanced over at Morgan who was starting to warm up on the ice before her lesson. “Just… Think about it, okay? And you’ll bring Morgan to the house after her lesson?”

You sighed and nodded at him. “Yeah okay, fine. I’ll think about it. And yes, I’ll stay here during her lesson.” You promised as you got off the ice and changed shoes while Morgan started her lesson.

“Thank you. Dinner’s at six.” He reminded you and kissed Morgan goodbye before leaving for a meeting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Maria Hill was looking over all the options she had on her desk. None of them would be able to take any of the shit that you were dishing out. She needed someone who could dish it right back to you and who could skate. “Jesus this is a nightmare.” She muttered to herself.

“Might have a suggestion for you if you’re interested in hearing it and going to meet with him.” Nick Fury’s voice came from her office door. Nick was the trainer for you. Responsible for keeping you in shape and healthy.

“Yeah?” She asked him curiously and leaned back in her chair.

Nick walked over to the television and turned it on, turning it to the sports network talking about Bucky Barnes’ retirement and what his options were now. The news had been out for a week now and everyone was speculating what he was going to do now.

“Barnes? You expect me to get a hockey player to be her new partner and not have her throw another fit?” She asked incredulously.

“Hear me out Hill.” Fury told her and sat across from her. “He’s strong, a phenomenal skater. Actually graceful even in hockey. And, he won’t take any of her shit lying down. Everything else, you can teach him.” He mused with a shrug. “Besides, rumor has it that he wants to keep skating. Sure, this ain’t hockey but it’s better than nothing.”

Nick had made several good points. He was a great skater. And he was disciplined. It meant that he would stick to any regime of training and skating they threw at him.

“She won’t like this.” She told him bluntly.

“Does she like anything anyway?” He countered with a snort.

He had a point. You hadn’t liked any of the partners they’d brought you till now. So throwing Barnes into the mix wasn’t going to make it much worse.

“Fine. Let’s go talk to him.” She relented.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You want me to what?” Bucky asked Maria and Nick. The two of them sat across from him in his Brooklyn apartment. Staring at them incredulously.

“We heard you wanted to keep skating. And while this isn’t hockey, we’re training someone who wants Olympic gold just as much as you do.” Maria told him. “I’ve seen you skate. You’re talented as hell and strong.”

Bucky looked back and forth between the two of them, expecting this to be some kind of joke. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. You’ll be paid, there’s a guest house at the Stark estate for you if the audition goes well. So you can live and train and not have to commute. You’ll be well paid.” Nick told him as he casually leaned back in his seat.

Bucky snorted. “I’ve been doing this long enough to know that there’s always a catch.”

Maria and Nick exchanged looks before looking back at him. “She can be… Difficult to get along with.” She told him carefully.

“So she’s a pain in the ass.” He clarified flatly and snorted again. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a pain in the ass on my team.” He muttered to himself.

“So you’ll come try out?” Maria asked him curiously. “Look, I know you don’t take any shit from anyone. So you and her might work because you can dish it out. You won’t put up with her attitude.” She explained.

Bucky considered his options. He didn’t want to stop skating. And it’s not like there were any open coaching positions currently. And he sure as shit didn’t want to write a memoir or work for ESPN while all his buddies were still skating. This was something for him. Plus he’d get to work with some hot girl instead of staring at Rumlow’s ugly face everywhere he went.

“When’s the tryout?” He finally asked.

Bucky Barnes’ fic taglist: @pisss-offf-ghostt

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes #My writing #Marvel fic #MCU #I'm not tagging all the characters in this fic b/c that's so annoying #anyway #Please reblog this and tell me if you like it #xoxo

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bookstantrash · 4 years

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A/N: Shoutout to all of those beautiful, incredible supportive and awesome people who encouraged me to write this Emeriel (Azriel x Emerie) one shot. I really like this crackship, and I’m hoping we see more of Emerie in the next acotar books.

With this, I’m officially in ghost mode till acosf and for some time after its release (probably a month). My askbox and dm are open for prompts tho! So feel free to send me any writing requests!!

Falling in Shadows

Azriel was lost.

Not lost as in ‘I don’t know the Cauldron where I am’. Not in the physical way lost.

No, Azriel was lost in the emotional way. Lost as in ‘What the Cauldron I am feeling?’

If he was to be honest with himself, he had been feeling like that for quite some time now. Ever since Cassian had asked him to go to that wooden building and spied a certain female through the clothier’s window.

Azriel was usually uncomfortable around other Illyrians. He sometimes forgot he too was one, his hatred for his people in some occasions being so unbearable he found himself a youngling once again, locked in that dark cell, denied the skies.

How could he be an Illyrian, feel like one, when his own people had cast him aside? Had tried to strip him of his heritage?

That was one of the motives he avoided going to Windhaven. But after that day he visited Cassian and Nesta — he was surprised to see how their relationship was going, despite the circumstances that had made Nesta go to Illyria — Azriel found himself looking for reasons to be in Windhaven.

All because of her.

Because of Emerie, the fierce owner of that clothier.

Once he had gotten inside the shop, Azriel had willed his shadows to fade — few were the Illyrians and Fae not afraid of them, afraid of him and his job in the Night Court — and tucked his wings tight. He knew how the Illyrian females were treated. How they were supposed to look down and not talk back when in the presence of a male. He didn’t want any other reason to scary the shop owner.

To his surprise, however, he was met with a different scenario. An Illyrian female who didn’t look down, was not afraid to speak her mind and didn’t cower in his presence.

Emerie didn’t even bat an eyelash at him or his shadows, not even glancing at his scarred hands when he handed her the money — an act he was already used to.

Azriel was in and out of the shop in less then five minutes.

He met her again some time later, having tea with Nesta when came back to Windhaven. They exchanged a few words and he got even more curious about her.

And then, before he had even noticed how, they had become friends.

Azriel would pass by her shop whenever he went to visit Cassian and would chat with Emerie, sometimes joining her and Nesta for tea — Azriel dragged Cassian with him when that happened, a little scared to be beneath the sharpe of gaze of both females by himself.

Not that he told Cassian, or anyone else for that matter, the truth. He’d rather swim naked in one of Windhaven’s deathly cold lakes.

Azriel had female friends, so it was not like he was embarrassed around Emerie because of that. Feyre was his friend, as was Elain — although Feyre seemed to think there was something between him and her sister, they were only on friendly terms. Elain was still processing what had happened to her, being Made and losing everything she had, not to mention Graysen. The man was one of the finest pricks he’d ever met, but love was not rational.

Azriel and Elain understand each other in some level, her being a seer and him a shadowsinger. But nothing more.

And then there was Morrigan. He’d been in love with her. Once. And he knew she didn’t see him like that.

His feelings had faded over time, leaving only respect and brotherly affection towards her. Azriel knew he sometimes overreacted when it came to Eris, but it was not due to a lover’s anger. No, he felt guilty of what Mor had been through, years ago. He was her friend and couldn’t help her when she needed the most.

His love towards Mor may have changed, but it still hurt to see that she was keeping something from him and flirted so shameless in front of him as to keep him away. Whatever it was that she had to say, he’d understand. So he’d wait, until she was ready to talk to him.

When it came to Emerie, however, he felt something. Something different. Something he could not quite place.

Azriel also felt fear.

Fear of what that feeling may represent. Of what Emerie thought of him. He had to keep himself in check around her, least he loose control of his shadows, who always seemed to get agitated whenever they were together.

Sighing, he shook his head to try and rid himself of these thoughts. He could feel an headache coming, and he had to wake up early to met Cassian and the Camp Lords for a meeting regarding the Blood Rite. He needed sleep.

His feet, on the other hand, had other ideais. Before he knew what he was doing, they had taken him on the way to the small craftsman center of the camp, where Emerie’ shop was.

Maybe he could say he had thought of saying a quick hello, see how the things were going with her sells.

“It’s not that late yet. And I didn’t come today to see her. So a late night tea won’t hurt, right?” Azriel thought, trying to calm himself down.

He sent one of his shadows ahead to see if there was any light on the clothier, just in case. If it was off, he’d take it was a sign to leave it alone and go rest.

But when it returned, Azriel felt his blood run cold, and he quickly moved through the shadows to get there faster. And the scene in front of him made his heart stop.

The shop windows were broken, as was the door, and he could see some of the clothes thrown on the floor by the door.

Azriel heard screams.

Heard Emerie screaming.

He entered the shop to find her being restrained by a male, while two others ransacked the place.

Azriel did not fail to notice how the male holding her looked pissed. Maybe due to his bloody nose and black eye.

Azriel smiled internally. His girl would not go down without a fight it seemed.

“And just what do you think you’re doing” he said, announcing his presence.

Four pairs of eyes looked in his direction, and he got smug satisfaction at the clear fear that shined in the males’ eyes.

Specially when they saw Azriel unsheathing Truth Teller and gave free rein to his shadows.

However, in Emerie’s dark brown eyes he only saw relief.

“Close your eyes Em” he said.

And then Azriel exploded.

He had the two males pinned down by his shadows in no time, bounding their wings and squeezing their throats strong enough to leave them breathless.

And a little purple.

But the one that held Emerie... that one he would take his sweet time.

Appearing behind the male — which quickly released Emerie in hope to attempt an escape — Azriel slammed him down in the polished counter.

“What should I do with you” he snarled, bringing Truth Teller dangerously close to the male’s throat, making a thin cut in his skin.

“P-please,” the male whimpered “have mercy”

“Did you show mercy to her? Did you?!” Azriel shouted, pressing the knife harder “I should Clip you. I should Clip all of you and take my sweet time doing it”

He heard the other two males struggling against his shadows, trying to get away again. Azriel only whiled them to tighten their grip, and he swore he heard one start to cry.

“You will never appear here again. You will not bother Emerie any longer” he leaned down to whisper in the male’s ear “You will tell that to your other friends. To anyone who has ever messed with her. And if I hear that you came back — and trust me, I will — I will hunt you down myself”

“Are we clear?” he added, letting his threat sink.

“Y—yes sir” the trembling male managed to gasp through Azriel’s hold on his neck.

“Go” he said, freeing all three, who quickly left the place, running for their lives.

Azriel then turned to find Emerie with her eyes open, staring at him.

He froze. She had seen him. Had seen him act as the High Lord’s spy master. Had seen him being territorial and scary and—

“I think I’ll have to redecorate” was all Emerie said, her voice trembling a little.

Azriel couldn’t believe it. She had been attacked, her shop destroyed and she had time to make a joke.

He shook his head in disbelief and stopped in front of her, holding himself back to not touch her to see if she was hurt anywhere.

“Are you—”

Her knees gave out before he could say anything else, and he quickly caught her in his arms.

“You put your arms around me and I literally felt my kneels buckle, this is so pathetic” she scoffed, looking at the floor.

“Em...”

“I usually can handle it on my own” she shook her head “Nesta taught me some self defense moves. I can’t leave the shop to go for the training ring and I have no desire to be a warrior”

“This...this was the first time that more than one came” she added in a soft whisper.

Azriel felt a calm rage settle in his bones.

“This is not the first time something like this has happened,” he wanted to shake her until she got some sense in that stubborn head of hers “and you didn’t tell anyone about it”

“As I said, I usually can handle it” she snapped back, finally meeting his eyes “I was closing the shop when they appeared. I tried to fight back, but I only managed to punch one before he restrained me. If you hadn’t appeared I—”

She didn’t finish that sentence, bitting her trembling lip to keep herself from crying.

“You are one headstrong and fearless female, you know that?” he said, daring to hold her closer.

“I was scared”

And to Azriel’s surprise she buried her head on his chest, gripping his leathers for her dear life, her body shaking with silent sobs.

“I know Em” he murmured, one hand caressing her hair in comfort.

His shadows closed the door and gathered the clothes on the floor, putting them on the counter.

“I’m going to take you upstairs, okay?” he asked softly, and Emerie just nodded her head.

Gathering her in his arms, Azriel climbed the stairs to the upper part of the shop, where Emerie lived.

He decided to place her on the sofa. He didn’t want to invade her personal space and walk into her bedroom.

He carefully sat on the sofa, adjusting Emerie in his arms so she’d be comfortable. By the looks of it, she wasn’t letting go of him soon.

Not that he was bothered by that.

“Em...it’s okay. You’re safe now” he tenderly raised her head, both hands cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears.

“Thank you. For arriving when you did” she sniffed, but then reality seemed to fall on her “Why where you around here at this hour?”

Azriel felt the tip of his ears getting hot, and he almost faded back in the shadows.

“I wanted to see you” he mumbled, so low he hoped she had not heard him.

“What was that?” she asked, and by the way she was trying to suppress a grin Azriel could tell she had heard him loud and clear.

“I’m not repeating it” he said, feeling his whole face getting hot

Emerie laughed, and the sound of her laugh was enough to put Azriel at ease.

“I wanted to see you too” she confessed, looking deep into his eyes.

Azriel could swear his heart skipped a beat at her words.

“You did?” he softly asked, afraid this was all a dream and he’d soon wake up.

“Yes” she said, and tenderly took one of his hands on hers, not flinching at the scars on them “I wanted to hear your voice”

She kissed his fingers.

“I wanted to see you trying to come up with topics to talk with me”

She kissed palm.

“I wanted to see your shadows acting all agitated and you trying so hard to control them thinking I’ll be bothered but,” Azriel took a sharp breath when she kissed his wrist “they’re not a bother. I’m not afraid of them. I like them”

Azriel was falling. He was spiralling down into himself, all the way to his shadowed heart.

“You like them?” he asked so quietly, fear lacing his every word.

“I do. They’re part of you Azriel” she interlaced their hands “What is there not to like?”

Azriel felt like crying. He felt like crying because for the first time someone outside of his family had looked at him and actually seen him.

Not a monster who killed and spied and tortured for his High Lord.

Not an Illyrian who was a traitor to his own race.

Not the quiet friend who was satisfied to be in the shadows.

Not a protector doing his duty.

Emerie saw him.

She saw all the good, the bad and the awkward Azriel so desperately tried to conceal.

And she was not afraid.

“Can I hope then?” he dared himself to ask, resting his forehead against hers “Can I hope you feel this? This feeling that I can’t quite place?”

“You can” she answered “Because I hoped you felt the same thing”

Azriel still did not know how to name this feeling between them yet. But he was sure of one thing.

He was dying to know what it was.

And Emerie would help him in every path of this discovery.

•

Emeriel Tags: @julemmaes @angrypotatofairy @illyrianwitchling @moe8 @thewayshedreamed @ko0mbayamylord @rosegoldannie @fourshizzle149 @arin1030 @elide-lochan-salvaterre @the-bookish-deer

Fixed Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan

{I ended up creating an Emeriel tag list, so please let me know if you want to be added in either the Emeriel or my Fixed Tag list}

#sarah j maas #sjmaas #sjm books #sjm fanfic #azriel #emerie #emeriel #azriel x emerie

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starsmuserainbow · 2 years

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[[ Before I start: This is based on my headcanons. It is in no way founded with any kind of canon or something, and the date is also (mostly randomly) chosen by me. ]]

Today, on the 11th of July, is when the tamaranean festival named Firrtin’z takes place!

What is Firrtin’z, you ask? It is the tamaranean festival of a competitive thinking. Competing against someone, be it in a friendly way or a ‘serious’ one, can raise the spirits and brighten the mood, no matter if one is on the winning side or not. Which is why this celebration exists. Not that this is the only day to compete if one wishes to do so more often, but this celebration is held so that at least once every now and then (or every year, to be more precise), the aforementioned advantages are actually given to everyone. Of course, there are people that do not celebrate it, but on Tamaran it is a big event and there is no real way to ‘escape’ the competing unless you lock yourself up all on your own for the day.

How is it celebrated? The person celebrating it will do all they can to challenge anyone they meet during the day to a competition. Which would include a continuous asking for the other to agree, a following of them through wherever they need to go during the day, basically anything that’s not causing the other person harm is alright to pursue in order to actually get to competing with them. The matter of the competition is not set, it can be anything where one can be ‘better’ than the other, and it will usually be discussed with the other what kind of competition will be done.

What does this mean for your blog? I don't plan on approaching anyone for the festivity. I will most likely reblog some opens for the festivity that I already posted some other time, at least on those of my tamaraneans that would/will openly celebrate it. Please also see this as an open invitation to have your muse come to my askbox (or tag me in a post if you prefer) and show the wish to celebrate Firrtin’z with my tamaraneans (or if your muse doesn’t know about the festivity yet but you want them to participate, simply happen to come by today; at least some of my tamaraneans will be most happy to explain about the celebration then). I might be a bit more picky in answering things though, given my recent muse or motivation struggles.

I’d prefer it if there is a sort-of logical explanation for why your character knows of the tamaranean festival. - If they have any kind of relationship with Starfire (maybe except enemies), it makes sense that she could have explained, or at least mentioned, the festivity and its date in some talk they had “off-screen” (or even in a RP). - Blackfire would never talk much about her home planet or the festivals there though, and neither is she actually into celebrating them, so it’s highly unlikely you would learn about it from her (and you’d need to strongly convince her if you want to celebrate it with her), and - Wildfire has been told of the date, but he doesn’t really enjoy the concept of competing, nor does he remember too much of the festival from home, so the only reason for him participating (after hearing stories about it from Starfire) is that he feels obliged to honor the traditions of his home. - Galfore lives on Tamaran, so obviously he is participating, and he enjoys it a lot too; - Moonshot very much honors all tamaranean traditions, so he will be very set on celebrating this with anyone he comes across during the day, whereas - Starlight isn’t really aware that it is today. If someone would let her know though, she might participate, though only if it’s actually something she would be interested in outside of the celebration too; she doesn’t really value the tamaranean festivities much. - Mar'i would certainly be delighted to participate.

There are of course other ways your muses could have learned about it, and I’m open to those. But if e.g. an ‘ordinary human’ with no previous contact to anything alien related whatsoever suddenly knows of Firrtin’z I just don’t think I could enjoy it that much.

Oh, and one more thing! This celebration also means that I will try to focus on that, if I do get anything about it. I will see to get at least some other replies done too, but my focus on such a day will be on asks/replies/threads about the “holiday” that currently is. And for the next week or so, Firrtin’z-related threads will be handled prioritized over others.

I think that’s all I need to explain; if there are any questions, always feel free to come into my inbox and ask me! All the threads or (IC-)posts related to Firrtin’z will be tagged with: #Let’s see who wins; when celebrating Firrtin’z!

#✫ Out of Clurblopf ✫ | OOC #✫ Many blessings friend! ✫ | Tamaranean Festivities #Let’s see who wins; when celebrating Firrtin’z!

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starry-eyed-collective · 3 years

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hello !

we’re the starry eyed collective, a system of 200+ :) we aren't exactly sure what our origins are, but we do know we're mixed origin and endogenic. that being said, we do not want endophobes following us and won't argue about our existence. i'm not sure how active people will be on this blog, but whoever the current host is will probably be the most active. we tend to forget about our sideblogs a lot, so we may disappear off the face of the earth for weeks/months at a time, but chances are we're completely fine /gen

the askbox and submissions are always open ! feel free to ask us things individually or as a collective, we love interaction :) we’ll answer any questions as well, as long as we have the information necessary to do so. you can message us on here if you’d like, and will give our discord if anyone asks. we don’t always have the spoons to respond but we do our best !

collectively we go by mythos or mystery, they/it/ve/ae (in no particular order) and silence or space related pronouns ! if you don’t know who’s fronting (which we’ll try to have in the blog’s title), use that for us :) our blurry/mixed tag is #mythos.txt or # - 💫 . we will also tag posts with (name).txt or similar tags, along with #starry thoughts, and tag whatever triggers you need so feel free to send in an ask !

sys members and DNI below cut

anon: proxy (is that the word?) for when somebody wants to remain anonymous. if someone’s using this tag, they/them is fine. tags are #anon.txt and # - 🎭

parker: previous host, any of these names or pronouns with a preference towards parker/flotsam/icarus and he/they/any volume related pronouns, tags are #parker.txt, #flotsam.txt, #icarus.txt and # - 🦕, my blog/our main is @fear-ze-queer

arsenic: current host alongside connor as of june 2023. he/him - i’m an anger holder and generally don’t trust new ppl for a while. love my friends tho. tags r #arsenic.txt and # - ☄️ and my blog is @arsenic-more-like-arsonic

Evangeline: She/Her pronouns please :) tags are #evangeline.txt, # - 💋 and # - 💜

Koi: He/Him and Koi/Koiself pronouns!!! Tags are #koi.txt and # - 🔥 :) One of the most frequent fronters so you’ll probably see me around a lot!!! My blog is @koi-romantic if you’re curious (it’s a lovecore blog :) )

janus: he/him, but they is fine too, tags are #janus.txt and # - ✂️. some kind of caretaker or protector, i front a lot when parker gets overwhelmed with negative emotions towards himself

Stan: He/Him. Tags are #stan.txt, # - 🚫 and # - ⛔️. I probably won’t be very active here, I don’t front often and don’t care for people when I do. Protector, and if I don’t talk to someone it’s likely personal.

Heretic: He/Him, my tags are #heretic.txt and # - 🤬 but subject to change if I find any emojis I like better.

Kyle Broflovski: He/him, tags are #kyle.txt and # - 😡, I guess I’d be considered an active fronter? Some kind of co-host maybe, a semico-host at least. South park fictive

Stan Marsh: He/they :) different than the other Stan, I’m a fictive from South Park. Tags are #marsh.txt and # - 🐶

Butters Stotch: Any pronouns!! Another South Park fictive :D I’m very expressive and friendly, at least I like to think so!! Median subsystem/sidesystem, I forget which word :( Tags are #butters.txt and # - 🍎 !!!

Bakugou Katsuki: he/him. MHA fictive. I’m a protector and I’m an angry person (duh) so if I seem rude you probably didn’t do anything wrong. Trust me, you’ll know if you’ve pissed me off. Don’t call me Katsuki or I’ll maul you. Tags are #bakugou.txt and # - 💥

Kaminari Denki: he/him, but honestly I won’t correct you if you call me something else haha. MHA fictive! I’m not sure of my role yet but I might be a cohost. Besties with Jirou <333 and also a bisexual disaster!! Tags are #denki.txt and # - ⚡️

Michael Afton: He/They. FNAF fictive. Be aware that Ennard is an asshole (/lighthearted, because apparently that needs clarification). Tags are #michael.txt and # - 👾

Kirishima Eijirou: MHA fictive!! He/him pronouns please :) my friends describe me as a himbo?? I’m not sure of my role or if I even have one honestly. Bakugou’s best friend, but he won’t admit it 😉 my tags are #kirishima.txt and # - �� !!

woolie/aries/lamb/fleece/ewe: i don’t wanna list all of my pronouns here cause it’s a lot, but i use basically any sheep or sleep related pronouns !!! i’m the resident Sleeby Boye (i’m not really a boy though ^^). my tags are #woolie.txt and # - 🐑 !!

Zero: Undecided on pronouns, but it/its works. Robot/computer in the system. Will likely not be active much here, as I reside mostly in the innerworld. Tags: #zero.txt, #- 0️⃣ and # - 🔳

Vee: She/they, queer and aspec and maybe a demigirl, I haven’t decided if I like the term yet. I’m an anxiety holder and a demifictive of Virgil from Sanders Sides, and the first to front when we discovered our plurality. Tags are #vee.txt and # - 🖤

Chris: Genderfluid, I switch between she/he/they pronouns, but they is fine if you aren’t sure what my preference is :) Caretaker of the system; usually I work internally, but have been out more recently to take care of the body as well. I try to be kind, but will not put up with others hurting my system. My tags are #chris.txt and # - 🌸 :)

Kyouka Jirou: any pronouns work, most people use she/he/they. MHA fictive, bisexual as all hell and besties with Denki <3 I love music, basically my entire life honestly. my tags are #jirou.txt and # - 🎶

Hue: I don’t know what pronouns i like yet, so just they/them is fine. I’m the host but also not? It’s a whole confusing thing, there’s a few of us actually, I don’t really know how to explain it. My tags are #hue.txt and # - 🌈

Shouto Todoroki:: Fictive from MHA, he/him pronouns please. I text very formally so apologies if I come across as upset in any way. My tags are #shouto.txt and # - 🧊🔥

Kirby: Undecided on pronouns at the moment but he/him is okay!! Best friends with Mulberry 💗💗💗 Not sure of my role, or if I have one!! Tags are #kirby.txt and # - 🍬

Mulberry/Kyle: i haven’t decided completely but mostly he/him, i don’t mind anything as long as it’s not she/her please,, best friends with kirby as he said above. my tags are #mulberry.txt and # - 😖

Ookido Guriin: he/him, fictive from pokemon, you might know me better as Green. So call me either of those, I don’t really care. Tags are #green.txt and # - 🔵

Isamu Akai: he/him :) fictive from pokemon, I’m also called Red if you don’t know my actual name, but I ask that you don’t call me that please. My tags are #red.txt and # - 🔴

Ethan Hibiki: mostly he/him, but I’m okay with others if you want to try them out on me!! Also known as Gold from pokemon, so call me that if you want. Tags are #gold.txt and # - 🥇 !!

Silver: he/him but idrc. Pokemon fictive as well, tags are #silver.txt and # - 🥈

DNI if queerphobic in any way including ace/aro/enby/mspec/mogai/neopronouns/literally anything, sysphobic, endophobic, against fictive heavy systems, against mostly nonhuman systems, racist, anti-BLM, sexist, ableist, TERF/SWERF/FART/whatever you call yourselves, MAP/NOMAP/p3d0s, cringe/flop blogs, n$fw blogs

Jax/Ace: he/they/ze pronouns, in no particular order :) X’s twin!! And objectively the better looking one /j. My tags are #jax.txt, #ace.txt and # - 👌

connor: he/him, dear evan hansen fictive & host alongside arsenic as of june 2023. tag is connor.txt

userboxes by @plural-userboxes !!!

that’s all for now !! have a nice time :)

#intro post #endo safe #plural posting #starry thoughts #parker.txt #flotsam.txt #icarus.txt #system blog #pinned post

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sweetjekyll · 4 years

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Under The Same Roof, part 1 — BBH

pairing: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

genre: Roommate / Flatmate AU, one-shot, friends to lovers rating: teen and up warnings: none! tiny bit of fluff if you squint your eyes really hard word count: 1.2k

summary: Baekhyun and Y/N have been flatmates for a while and romance is in the air.

Requested by anonymous: keyword “roof” + sentence “Oh my God. You’re in love with her.” from this writing game post.

Masterlist — PART 2

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble, but I told you I couldn’t contain myself once I reached the 600 words I went over lol. this may as well have a part 2 if many people request it, but for now I left it as it is cause I like the suspense. I edited the pic for this but I didn’t add a watermark, it took me a while to find something that sparked my imagination.

⟶ To my dear readers: feedback is highly encouraged and important! as it gives me motivation to write with more passion, knowing that you like what you are reading. Please LIKE and REBLOG so more people can find this and read it. ❤ My askbox is always open for questions or to chat ❤

Enjoy! ❤

You and Baekhyun have been flatmates for about a year now, he needed someone to help him pay rent after his previous flatmate moved in with his girlfriend last minute and you needed a roof over your head since you didn’t want to live in the dorms at your university… Too expensive. The apartment on the other hand wasn’t anything luxurious either, just a two bedroom, one bathroom and a combined kitchen and living space area, enough to house 2 people, even if it wasn’t exactly that cheap yet quite affordable.

Baekhyun was trying to save money from his full-time job as a barista and bartender in the local university cafe, serving coffee by day and alcohol bar by night, meanwhile you were a majoring student who was mostly focusing on her studies but worked part-time at the same cafe Baekhyun did. It had its perks choosing you as flatmate, Baekhyun already knew you were a good person and that you were in need of a place to stay, plus you got along well on the job too. It’s not like you could exactly sleep over at one of your friend’s places forever so when he offered to take you in you accepted without second thought.

But boy, oh boy, was Baekhyun ever the loud type; some days you thought you were going to march out of your room and smack him on the head cause you could not concentrate on your textbooks while he was playing games with his friends, others you actually joined him when you two were alone. As loud as he was, he was also a sweet introverted guy with a tendency to be a social butterfly despite his reserved nature, in fact, you were surprised to meet so many of his friends you could barely remember all of their names. Two hands weren’t enough to count them all.

You considered him a close friend, after all, you were living together under the same roof, Baekhyun was there for you when you needed a friend and you were there when he wasn’t feeling like going outside to meet with anyone else. He wasn’t sure when or how it happened, but at some point he started liking you more than just a friend. He liked everything about you, from the way you bickered about the smallest of things in the apartment such as not leaving dirty mugs in the sink after breakfast, the way your voice was barely above a whisper in the mornings with pouting lips and sleepy eyes, the way you smiled at him after a long tiring day of classes and work, the way you sometimes managed to keep up with his high energy, your friendly and caring personality… Only a few times has he truly seen you mad like a beast, but thankfully it was never directed at him.

Baekhyun was sitting crosslegged on the brown two-seater in the living room, playing some shooter multiplayer game on the PlayStation with some friends of his you’ve met before plenty of times, Chanyeol and Sehun. You let out a quick sigh as you hurried across the living area from your bedroom to the front door, dressed in your work attire, you scurried to put on your shoes. “Okay, I’ll be at the bar the whole night,” you said as you grabbed your coat, ready to walk out before you were late. “Have fun, don’t wait up for me.”

Baekhyun’s eyes quickly moved from the television screen as he paused the game, earning groans and scowls from his friends sitting on the rug with each their back pressed to the sofa. “I’ll come pick you up, just call me when you close down.”

You smiled at Baekhyun’s offer and pointed a finger at him playfully. “I swear if you fall asleep, Byun Baekhyun—“

“Promise I won’t.” He held out his right pinky finger for you and you moved closer to close your pinky around his, a small gesture of friendship you came up with when you once came home a bit tipsy from a night out with all your friends.

“Alright, good night. Bye Sehun, bye Chanyeol!” And just like that you closed the front door after yourself as you went to work.

Chanyeol exchanged a silent yet teasing look with Sehun but it didn’t last long as Baekhyun unpaused the game to resume from where they left. “Dude,” Chanyeol begun after a few minute of resuming the game, he wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to come back for something you forgot, “are you two like… Together?”

“What!?” Baekhyun exclaimed, but he got distracted from the question and barely safe one of his opponent taking down his character. “Me and Y/N? No, we’re just friends.”

Sehun put down his controller and turned his torse to look up at his older friend. “But you like her, right?”

Baekhyun had to pause the game again quite annoyed and this time looked at the two guys sitting on the floor. “We’re just friends.” He stressed on the last two words. He couldn’t really hide it, they could hear the disappointment in his tone even if he was trying to not give it away. “Nothing more.”

“Oh my god.” Chanyeol’s eyes widened, he too discarded the controller on the coffee table and turned his whole body to face Baekhyun from his spot. “You’re in love with her.”

“I’m not!” Baekhyun scoffed as he tried to resume the game but Sehun snatched the controller from his hands, holding it away while his friend protested with a whine. “Okay! Fine! I am head over heels for her.” He confessed as his body slumped against the backrest. “I just don’t want to ruin the friendship we have if I ask her out on a date.”

“You’ve been grocery shopping together, buying clothes and furniture, all of our friends think you’re together.” Sehun pointed out as he got up from the floor and sat on the two-seater next to Baekhyun. “You act like a couple any time you’re in the same room.”

“So why didn’t you guys say anything?” He asked seriously confused. Yes, you and him got along very well, but he didn’t think you were getting along too well in the eyes of your group of friends.

Chanyeol shrugged. “Cause we thought you wanted to keep it private until you felt like telling us.”

Sehun laughed softly, earning a glare from Baekhyun since he didn’t know what was going on in the head of the younger guy. “So that’s why you haven’t shown any PDA! I was almost beginning to admire your self restraint from kissing her or holding her hand when you’re in public.”

“Hey!” Baekhyun slapped him on his chest, earning a pained chuckled from Sehun. “Look, it’s just that I don’t know how to tell her…”

“Just ask her on a date,” Chanyeol said while giving one of Baekhyun’s knees a soft slap. “If you don’t I’ll ask her for you. Who knows, maybe she reciprocates your feelings?”

“That’s a strong maybe.” Baekhyun shook his head as he reached forward to grab his controller from the coffee table.

“I’m pretty sure she reciprocates.” Sehun added as he too turned his attention back on the game, meanwhile Chanyeol just smirked as his brain devised a plan. It would work out, Baekhyun and you just needed a little help from Cupid.

#exosnet #exonet #exo #exo x reader #exo x you #baekhyun #byun baekhyun #bbh #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun scenario #exo imagines #exo fanfic #baekhyun x you #chanyeol #sehun #roommate au #friends to lovers #under the same roof

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