#prompt: hydrangea | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sassatoru · 9 months ago

Note

Congrats on getting 2k followers!

I would like to request hydrangea (srry if I got it wrong, my memory sucks) + string + "wish you loved me just as much as you loved her (kory)" !

LOVER OF NOT MINE

pairing. dick grayson x reader

warning. angst

prompts used. “wish you loved me just as much as you loved her.”

you could see the difference in the way he looked at you and her. dick could try to deny it, promise you that he and kory were done, but god you could see through him. the stupid looks of pity that his friends sent your way.

and that’s when the doubts started forming in your mind. how could you compare to her. kory was a princess, from another planet. an alien princess and you… you were just you.

a normal person, who lives a normal life. no vigilante tendencies, you had your load of trauma but who doesn’t?

was it you? were you too boring for him? too normal?

this “outing” as he’d called it had confirmed everything you were feeling. he’d dragged you along against your will, you hadn’t wanted to come to this stupid vigilante/superhero/anti-hero get together at some bar.

the second you’d arrived he kissed your cheek to make his way to kory, her eyes lit up at the sight of him as they hugged, his hands lingering on her hips a lot longer than they ever did yours.

what were you going to do now? you didn’t know anyone here, so you sat at the free spot at the end of the bar, alone and disappointed. it’d been half an hour now, and he hadn’t even spared a glance in your direction yet, too busy listening to whatever stupid nonsense was coming out of kory’s mouth.

honestly you looked too pretty to be left behind like this, you wanted to just go home. you didn’t have the car keys though, dick insisted that he drive the two of you there.

maybe that was his plan, keep you trapped here, watching him and kory so you’d know where you stood in this relationship. you felt that lump in your throat get heavier, you couldn’t walk home. not in fucking bludhaven, this place was nearly as bad as gotham — wait, they’re leaving.

together?

you froze in your seat as they walked past the bar, he’d forgotten you were here, you could tell by the way his eyes focused on her completely.

you should’ve stayed home. guess you’re gonna be walking home after all.

people didn’t pay you any mind as you slipped past them and out onto the chilly streets where you could catch a glimpse of dick’s car speeding away from the bar.

you felt sick. scared and sick. bag clutched as you walked tensely, head low to avoid anyone’s gaze. the dark made the city look a little peaceful, but everyone knew that was far beyond the truth.

you distantly hear a few whistles calling out to you but those men make no move to pursue you either. so you kept walking until you reach the entrance of you apartment building, you stepped in as quickly as you could, pressing the elevator button a few times, impatiently.

the door dinged as it opened, you shivered as you stepped in, pressing the button of the floor you lived on, it was times like this you were glad you hadn’t moved in with dick.

you didn’t bother changing when you crawled into bed, kicking your heels off at the door, greeted by your cat meowing at you and following you to bed.

at least someone was acknowledging you, your little companion jumped up onto the bed, taking the side dick usually would most nights with a purr as he tried to get as close to you as possible.

you couldn’t hold it back anymore, silent tears falling down your cheeks as you curled up. eventually, sometime past 11pm you passed out. you had exhausted all your tears and just given up.

it’s only at 1am that dick comes looking for you. his key to your place jingled softly enough to not stir you as he opened the door, barging through and going straight for your bedroom, the noise startling both you and your cat awake.

you let out a noise something between a scream and a cry and your cat hisses as the sight of dick. he’d never liked your ‘boyfriend’ in the first place, maybe you should’ve trusted his instincts.

“sweetheart, i’m so sorry.”

the apology is the first thing that slipped from his tongue and it all came back to you.

“i lost track of time and—”

“where were you?” you ask, throat sore from your crying, he could see the dried tear stains on your cheeks and he knew he’d messed up past what was forgivable.

he’d left you alone, in a room of strangers with no way home.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, eyes dropping to the floor and you notice the disheveled way his hair sat, collar covered in the same shade of lipstick kory had been wearing, and if you looked close enough there’d be a matching stain on his lips.

you didn’t need this. “get out.”

you gave him no time to argue, standing up and shoving a box of his stuff into his arms. things you’d collected in your state of sad anger, the box contained his clothes, random little trinkets he’d brought along, gifts he’d brought you — never anything expensive just stuffed animals and cards.

“can’t we talk about this?” he pleaded and failed as shoved him further.

“no, if you want kory so badly. then have her, but don’t drag me along to play the fool.”

he winces at your retort, shame settling in his bones.

“is it me?” you cant help but ask, “why can’t you love me as much as you love her? wish you loved me just as much as you love her.”

he’s starting to really wish he’d left the first time you asked — told him to.

“you’re perfect,” he whispers, “but she… me and her, we..”

“just leave, i don’t want to see you again, dick.”

he doesn’t fight it, he doesn’t have the right anymore does he. his heart sinks when he closes your bedroom door behind him and he can hear the way you break down, trying to keep quiet.

you deserved to know but he’d never tell you, it was never real. you and him, you were just a sweet innocent girl he was using to get his ex back, and it worked. now he’ll move on and leave you to suffer the consequences.

#dick grayson x reader #[📮] asks #enzo writes [📝]#dick grayson #dick grayson angst #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x reader angst #2k followers celebration

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bllushbunniie · 8 days ago

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harry is just the perfect man, actually uses his brain n is just overall irresistible ♡ both reader n harry are two cuties in luuvvv

fem reader, 18+, gardening, showering, and a boyfriend wearing sweatpants ie joggers- ur gonna love this one, I hope!!!

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Oh now this was unfair.

Strike one happened this morning, you woke up to an empty bed- that one you could forgive; he often left you wrapped in the creamy soft duvet only to then bring you breakfast. But after ten minutes of sleepy sighs and rolling around trying to place yourself in a vaguely seductive position, he still didn’t turn up!

So, much to your dismay, you got yourself up, eager to find out where he could possibly be hiding.

‘Harry?’

Just as you were about to make your way downstairs, an image of your boyfriend found your peripherals. Your head shot around in surprise.

‘What are you doing, honey?’ you shouted as you opened up the small window overlooking your garden, smile on your face. You knew exactly what he was doing.

Last night, you had finished around a week’s work of gardening research. You were determined to have a flourishing haven, full of health blooms, happy plants and floral scented air. So you collected your tools, plant food and stored your brain with all the necessary information on how to prune, deadhead, and water.

Harry was constantly buying you bunches of flowers to decorate your shared home. Flowers which were already flourishing- florists who took the time to arrange the pink roses amongst the mini hydrangeas, with speckles of alstroemeria. Similarly, you loved when he bought you flowers that arrived in bud, taking a few days to blossom into their most pretty form. But you had always talked about making your own arrangements, from flowers that you had grown- maybe even gifting a few bunches to his Mum because you knew how much she always enjoyed flowers.

You had relayed all of your thoughts to Harry. He listened intently, relishing in the fact his girl was finding yet another passion and he was just so excited to see the finished result.

‘Baby, if you’re going to have the garden of your dreams, you best bet I’m going to help!’ he shouted back up you, garden sheers in on hand, other hand holding a branch full of wilted roses.

‘C’mon love, come and join me!—- oh and keep those cute pajamas on, yeah?’ he flirted.

He wasn’t a passive listener, oh no, he made sure to store all of the information from your rambles and use them accordingly.

He was good like that.

So good.

Made you feel funny.

~Butterflies in your tummy~ kinda funny.

You’re not sure he even knows how much it gets to you. How he takes everything you say into account and acts upon it without having to be prompted to. He’s naturally sweet by nature, but extra extra sweet on you. It’s why you’ll probably end up kissing him extra hard later on, give him anything he asks for.

♡

Strike two happened later on in the day. Not as big of a gesture but greatly appreciated nonetheless.

After a morning filled with falling petals and fleeting kisses, both of you decided to take a quick shower together.

‘Come here lovely girl. As much as I love those cute little pajamas, I think I need to get them off you, don’t you think?’ he teased, his hands already tracing the end of your pink tank top.

‘Um, I don’t think so mister!’ giggling as you shooed his hands away, quickly shuffling away to grab the hair mask you were so eager to use- placing it on the side of the bath to make sure everything was in arms reach whilst you showered.

‘Oh, I see, you’re being cruel, that’s it isn’t it, you want to hear me beg? Because you know I will, honey.’ but before he can turn around, he feels two delicate hands sneak around his middle.

He breathes out deeply through his nose as she squeezes around his middle, pressing herself up against his back.

‘Hush, silly boy.’ you laughed, placing the side of your head up against his back, rubbing your face slightly up against the cotton of his t-shirt. ‘I just wanted to make sure I’ve got everything. Besides, I wanted to do… this’, and with that, you slid your hand down towards the bottom of his top, lifting it slightly so you could get your hands on this skin just above his pyjamas bottoms. This is where your pretty, glittery nails came in handy.

Tracing along that line with your nails, a slight scratch. You know exactly how to make him shiver.

You found it a little amusing but mostly sexy how such a big, strong man like himself could be reduced to sighs and shivers just by the feeling of your perfectly manicured fingernails.

Your hands finding the end of his t-shirt now to take it over his head, he had to help of course, you were a little too small to pull it over his head.

‘You’re going to kill me, y’know’ he says, turning around in your arms, leaning forward to gift a little kiss on the end of your nose.

‘I know’ you beamed back, giving him a silly, toothy grin.

‘Right, enough of this little game you’re playing’, and with that, he dragged your top over your head followed by grabbing your hips to spin you around to pull your bottoms down too.

Disoriented with his quick movements, a little squeal leaves you when you feel his lips kiss your right bum cheek.

‘Harry!!!’

‘Got a cute little bum haven’t you, darling?’, casually stating as he rises to his feet, ushering you into to shower first. Following right behind you, eager to get you covered in warm water droplets.

You both took great pleasure in lathering the other in sweet smelling bubbles and seeing it rinse off both of your bodies.

You were sure you had the better end of the deal though, getting to see the soap run all the way from his hair, through the middle of his chest to somewhere much naughtier.

He would beg to differ however. He was utterly in love with everything about you. What could be better than seeing your skin all wet, hard nipples peaking through the bubbles that are coating your breasts? Yeah, he wins.

‘Let me give you a little head massage, yeah?’, lathering a handful of the lilac scented hair mask over the ends of your hair. He didn’t give you time to respond, he knew you’d love a massage, you loved any sort of touch he gave you.

‘I want to be partly responsible for how pretty your hair looks later on’, he croons, letting his fingers swirl against your scalp.

God, he was good. First it was him gardening and now he’s giving you an impromptu massage. It doesn’t help he accompanies each perfect action with teasing phrases to rile you up in just the right way.

♡

You ought to have predicted strike three really. But having it catch you by surprise made it even better.

How dare he just stand there, sipping on a cup of tea, light gray joggers hanging low on his hips.

He managed to evade you after you finished your shower. Both using your own separate dressing rooms to put on loungewear as you both had the afternoon free- planning on using that time to spend the time together, unbothered by the outside world.

Was he doing this on purpose?

You don’t suppose it matters really. He’s in for it now.

You march right over to him, grabbing his cup of tea. He allowed you to lift it from his hand and place it on the counter. A slight smirk on his lips, he had thought this might happen. You were such a little tease during your shower- rubbing him all over, making a little show of rinsing yourself off.

Lacing your fingers together, you pulled him from the kitchen, letting him trail behind you.

‘Sit’ you demanded as you reached your living room, guiding him towards the sofa.

He, of course, did as he was told.

He met your eyes, reaching his hand out, pulling your standing body in between his spread legs. Other hand pressing into the curve of your back, so his lips could meet your clothed lower stomach.

‘Not fair, Harry’, you pouted, a sigh leaving your lips, head falling back, your hands weaving their way through the damp strands of his freshly-washed hair.

‘What’s not fair, pretty girl?’ he says, muted by continuing kisses.

‘You’re going to make me melt’ you whined, head rolling forward, your hands pulling on his hair to tilt his head back.

‘Melt? Well we wouldn’t want that would we?

‘Why not?’ you raised your eyebrow

‘Well, then we couldn’t do this could we?’

He manoeuvred you with cocky confidence, allowing you to fall on top of him, your breasts pressing so close to his face, thighs spreading over his, pressing you as close as he possibly can.

‘I think my girl needs to be taken care of, doesn’t she? Too pretty for your own good.’ pushing your hair away from your shoulders, mouth meeting the top of your clothed breast, you couldn’t help but give a slight wiggle to your hips.

‘You know, I was planning to be the one in charge right now’ you gasped.

‘You still can be baby, just tell me what you want, I’ll give you anything.’

♡.

#harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harrie #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles x girlie!reader #cutecore #girlblogging #my fic #harry 1d #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #one shot #Harry styles blurb

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emilys-bangs · 3 months ago

Note

this prompt from the hydrangea list: “you should change out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold” with unit chief Emily and stubborn reader who fell into like a frozen lake or something during a case and reader makes up some sort of excuse so Emily lends her some of her own clothes which sparks something in Emily🤭

Not gonna lie, I giggled like an idiot when I read this, I'm obsessed 😭ty for participating!! Join my celebration here!

Tags: stubborn (lowkey annoying) bau!reader, reader wears emily's clothes, it's mentioned that they don't fit well but no descriptions of body type

Word count: 0.9k

Your hands shake so much you can hardly take your vest off. Emily does it for you, almost viciously, her nails ripping through velcro and separating it with loud screeches.

“I c-can—I can do it.” You pant, trying to push her away.

Emily’s eyes tell you to shut up. Her whole face does—lips tightly pressed, brows drawn and stiff. Her silence answers, as do her hands, slapping yours away and reaching for the straps under them. She rips them open, freeing you, and lugs your waterlogged vest off of your chest. You gasp, the frigid air tightening your lungs.

“Jesus, fuck.” You curse, clenching your teeth as your muscles lock.

The frown slips deeper between Emily’s brows.

“Take this off.” Her hands are shoving at your shoulders. Your windbreaker falls to the lake bank with a wet slap, joining your discarded vest. Emily sheds her own jacket; before you can blink, she’s wrapping it around you, her warm exhales puffing over your face. “C’mon. You should change out of those wet clothes before you catch a cold.”

You might as well be wearing a sheet of paper. But at least Emily’s jacket has dry pockets. You let her help you up—hell, who are you kidding, she does all of the heavy lifting—and almost fall back down when you let go, your legs trembling and numb.

Emily’s arm firmly wraps around your waist. She tugs you in the opposite direction, back to the SUVs.

“No, no, no.” You strain against her arm. “W-We’re gonna lose him.”

“I don’t think the fifteen agents on his tail are gonna let that happen.”

“Emily—”

“Keep moving.” She snaps.

The look on her face makes you comply.

Your boots squelch wetly with every step. Water sloshes over your ankles, dipping your socks in a fresh wave of ice, and you shiver. Emily’s arm around your waist, sticking your shirt to your skin, makes it worse.

Her grip is steel. Unnecessary and heavy and telling of her palpable anger with the way her fingers grip your side.

“So what, now you’re mad at me for f-falling into a fucking lake?”

Her jaw ticks. She lets your question hang in the air, lets silence seal over it before speaking.

“I’m not mad at you because you fell in the lake.” She says evenly, her voice low and composed. “I’m mad at you because you’re still a fucking idiot after falling into the lake.”

You scoff, “Oh, sorry for trying to prioritize my job—”

“Over yourself. That’s just,” she shakes her head, irritated, “that’s just stupid.”

Bold of you to say, you almost snap back. But you hold your tongue just in time, digging your molars in and cutting off that thought.

“I’m fine,” you say instead, uselessly, because the SUV comes into view. Your numb fingers cry out in relief. “I’m just cold and dripping, not mortally wounded.”

“Thank god,” she says dryly.

For all your protests, you really are grateful when she all but throws you into the car and turns the heat on max. You’re pretty sure it’s the wrong thing to do, but you still huddle closer to the vents, directing whatever part of your body you can to the hot blow of air. It doesn’t do much—neither does Emily’s jacket—but you still shake your head when she comes around your door with clothes and a blanket in her hand.

You take the blanket. “I’ve got clothes back at the motel, I’ll just change there.”

Emily looks at you like you’re insane. “We’re going to the hospital.”

“What? We’re not.”

She holds out the clothes—a thick fleece sweater and sweatpants. “Put these on.”

“There’s no need.”

Emily pulls out her phone, eyes narrowing. “Fine, I’ll just call an ambulance.”

You snatch the clothes from her hand.

“Chief Prentiss,” you grumble, “you’re a pain in my fucking ass.”

“Ditto.” The corners of her mouth tremble, then smoothen out. Her brows raise, a thinly veiled threat. “I’ll wait out back.”

She leaves, and you look down at the clothes. Soft and warm, obviously well made and probably tailored to fit her. They’re not your size, but the hospital is at least half an hour away.

And it’s not like you’ve got any dignity left to spare.

You get in the back and change, teeth chattering as you pull Emily’s clothes over your body and adjust them so that they don’t look too ridiculous. Not like you care at this point; they’re warm and dry, lying thick over your bones, so you don’t complain. You get back in the front when you’re done, call Emily over, and try to warm your blue nails with the blanket she gave you.

“Thank you,” you murmur when she gets in, shame blooming in your stomach when you see the dampness along the side of her sweater.

Emily’s eyes flick over to you. They drag over your huddled form, your legs gathered on the seat—she doesn’t scold you for that, thankfully—and she blinks a few times.

Great. Even she can see what a horrible fit her clothes are.

A burning starts in your cheeks. You gather the sides of the blanket over your chest, crossing your arms over it. Emily turns away.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

She starts the car, her voice softer.

“And thanks for your jacket. It’s all wet now, sorry, but I can get it dried for you. Probably dry cleaned too,” you mutter, mostly to yourself now, “it’s soaked up all that gross lake water. And your clothes—”

“It’s okay.” Emily surprises you with a laugh, clicking on her seatbelt and driving off. “Just stay warm, I don’t care about any of that stuff.”

“I am warm.” It’s not really a lie. Emily throws you a skeptical look, her eyes dipping down your chest before they get back to the road. “Really! I, uh…I don’t think the hospital’s necessary anymore.” You say timidly.

She shakes her head, the barest hint of a smile softening her cheeks. “Don’t push it.”

“Fuck.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu @ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi @temilyrights @professorsapphic@decadentcatcrusade@piiinco

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss x you #emily prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss fanfic #emily prentiss fic #emily prentiss fics #emily prentiss fanfiction #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss blurb #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #fic #eb800

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freakingholland · 5 months ago

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"No surprises" - Remus Lupin x teacher!reader

A/N: Hi cuties! Thank you for all the love on my 2 previous Remus works <3 I wanted to write a quick lil fluffy somethin somethin so please enjoy *kneels down and hands in this one-shot*

ALSO IMPORTANT I've been forgetting to let you all know that I can ADD YOU TO MY TAG LIST - just let me know in the asks/rbs/messages!

Based on @novelbear's prompt list: quiet acts of love that make me cry

"i brought you flowers." "for what?" "there has to be a reason?"

Warnings: sarcastic banter, kissing scene (nothing suggestive/nsfw)

Summary: Professor Lupin and his partner spend a cozy afternoon in their shared cabin - filled with warm soups, beautiful flowers, and unmeasurable sentiment. (fluff/domestic fluff/teeth rotting fluff/romance)

Word count: 920+

If you enjoyed my work: Ko-fi.com/freakingholland

questions/requests/ideas here! - rules here

my AO3 archive is here

masterlist

You were finishing up doing the dishes. Even though it’s not the perfect entertainment for a Saturday afternoon off it felt weirdly enjoyable with the muggle-store bought fairy lights glistening across your kitchen, making the frost-kissed windows shine more than ever before. The warm atmosphere made you cherish the evening despite the mundane chores that just had to be done sooner or later.

You heard the familiar sound of boots being stomped clean in the hall, and you instantly knew it was your husband, groaning as he tried to rid his oxfords of the clinging, fresh snow.

“Close your eyes dear.” He shouted from the hall, his serious tone earning a chuckle.

“Yes! Yes, my eyes are closed.” You slowly brought up your hands to actually bury your face for good measure, as soon as you heard his now soft approaching steps.

“First of all…” you could hear a hint of mischief in his voice but couldn’t necessarily tell what he was about do.

You figured it out when his ice cold fingers slipped under your sweater and made direct contact with your warm skin on the small of your back.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU REM HOLY-“ you yelped turning away from him. He burst into laughter.

“Lovie I’m so sorry. I really am. That’s not what I originally wanted to show you.” You couldn’t even pretend to be mad at him when he looked at you with his glazed gaze, full of love and care.

“Uh-huh, sure it wasn’t!” you shot back, glaring at him with pseudo-annoyance.

He stepped closer to you and placed his hands on your torso once again, this time not placing them underneath your clothes. He pushed you to face him with one hand.

“Look. I brought you flowers.”

“Oh! They are so—for what?”

“For what?” he repeated, his brows knitting together. “What do you mean ‘for what’?”

“there has to be a reason? No?” he continued. “No!”

“Yeah? No? Yeah, I guess no.” he chuckled at your own uncertainty.

“The reason,” he said with a playful huff, “is that I love you. Oh! So very dearly.”

“Aaaaand you have been the biggest support for me. And I love you dearly.” He leaned in a planted a kiss on the tip of your nose.

He pulled back slightly, his grin widening. “Also, I’m not sure if I mentioned this yet, but I love you. Dearly.”

He tilted his head, watching your reaction with attentive eyes.

“You might’ve mentioned it. Maybe once or twice.”

“Well, I figured it was worth repeating,” he said with a shrug, slipping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. The warmth of his embrace and the smell of his perfume lingering on his coat made you feel like you were exactly where you belonged.

You took your hand off his ribs and leaned in to smell the hydrangeas still in his hand.

“Take that off, you will get sick love. Hang it on the chair and move it by the fireplace.” You motioned to his soaked overcoat.

“What’s this? Smells incredible.” He said stooping over the steaming pot of soup.

“Pumpkin soup.”

“You made a soup out of your own husband? What are you a witch?!”

You looked at him absolutely baffled, not really believing that something so cheesy left his mouth.

“Get out of my kitchen joker…”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before stepping away.

He smirked, unbuttoning his damp overcoat as he moved toward the dining table. After hanging it over the back of a chair, he dragged the chair closer to the fireplace like you told him to do.

Satisfied, he turned back to you, leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms crossed. “So, what can I do to help?”

“You can stay out of my way until it’s ready,” you teased, placing a lid on the pot.

The bubbling sounds from within the pot filled the kitchen, mixing with the faint crackle of the fire from the living room and the occasional gust of wind against the windows.

You then took your beautiful bouquet carefully trimmed the stems before placing the flowers in your favourite vase.

He stayed where he was, his gaze never leaving you as you moved around the kitchen, wiping droplets of water from the counter and fussing with the vase until it was placed just right. He watched with awe in his eyes, clearly fond of his decision to buy you the little gift. The sight of his gorgeous partner roaming around their cozy shared kitchen sent frisson across his large figure.

“You’re staring,” you stated, feeling his piercing gaze.

“Can you blame me?” he replied without hesitation, his voice soft but steady.

You turned to him, leaning against the counter with your arms folded, your teasing smile aimed his way. “You’ve gone sappy on me, haven’t you?”

He stepped forward, closing the space between you, his large still slightly cold hands naturally finding your hips.

“Guilty as charged,” he said softly, his thumb drawing circles through your sweater.

Your smile softened, and you reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

“Good. I like you this way.”

Your thumb brushed against his lips. He lifted you up and sat you on top of the counters.

You placed your palm cupping his rosy cheek, bringing him closer. You could feel your heart racing and his soft breaths against your skin.

His lips met yours and quickly quirked into a beaming smile.

Thank you for reading! stay whelmed xx

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octoberautumnbox · 2 months ago

Text

Dreamlike Universe

Former IZ*ONE/Soloist Kwon Eunbi & LOONA/ARTMS Jo Haseul

Categories: fluff i think?

a/n: prompt by @woollypoison ty wobbly! Inspired by Dreamlike Universe and Multo goddamn did i get sad while writing this

~~~

“Oh, you look gorgeous.” At the door stands Eunbi, a bouquet of hydrangeas cradled gently in her arms and a plastic bag of fried chicken and plum wine bottles dangling by her fingers. She sports a bright smile contrasted by the poorly lit hallway she stands in, waiting to be welcomed into the house. Immediately off the bat Haseul senses no ill intent behind the statement—she even thinks her friend is being genuine about it despite Haseul feeling like Gangwon roadkill herself—though she does sense a note of patronizing.

“Come in, Eunbi…” Haseul opens the door a bit wider and steps aside to make room. Eunbi hops in and makes for the kitchen counter, setting down her gifts. With her guest’s back turned and her appearance brought to the forefront of her consciousness, Haseul takes the opportunity to check herself in the mirror, finding dark circles under her eyes, a wrinkled shirt that looks like it’d been slept in for four nights straight, and a bedhead that’s sorely out of place for the 6 p.m. atmosphere.

Then again, Eunbi’s cheery demeanor isn’t a good fit for the somber mood of Haseul’s apartment either. She’s too bright, Haseul thinks somberly, as Eunbi just carries on opening the boxes of chicken and popping the cap off one of the bottles of plum wine using one of her sturdier rings. Haseul can only watch as she heads off to the fridge and rummages through, looking for something to mix the liquor with.

“You know,” Haseul finally sighs out, taking her seat in one of the barstools. Eunbi dumps the last pack of Haseul’s Yakult onto the kitchen island as Haseul continues, “you didn’t have to come over. I’m fine.”

In response, Eunbi sighs and tilts her head, shooting a disapproving look at her friend. “Sure, Miss Hasn’t-Showered-Since-Friday,” she teases as she shakes her head. She turns around one last time, and sets two sets of plates, glasses, and chopsticks in front of her and Haseul before sitting down herself. “It isn’t like you to not reply for days and then say you stopped bathing. Think of this as a welfare check—I had to make sure you were still alive.”

"Dead people typically don’t text their friends to say they forgot to take a shower.” Haseul only picks at the chicken, but ultimately gives in to the enticing honey garlic aroma. The sticky sauce meets her lips, and by some mysterious divine decree, she immediately feels marginally better.

Eunbi looks on as her friend finally starts eating. The way she fills her cheeks with big bites of chicken bring a smile to her face, but also an adjacent concern: how long has it been since she ate? “Alright, honey garlic, noted,” she says in a stern but thoughtful tone. She places another piece on Haseul’s plate before taking one for herself, “Could’ve saved me the trouble picking flavors.”

~~~

“Is this really necessary?” Haseul hugs her knees, covering herself as best as she can from the curtain covering her from Eunbi on the other side. The showerhead throws warm water over her head generously, soaking her hair and rehydrating her skin.

“Yesh, ish absholuhly nesheshayee,” Eunbi replies, mouth full of toothpaste suds. Haseul hears the bristles drag against her teeth through the shower curtain from inside the bathtub, listening steadily for when she spits and gargles. “You’re brushing your teeth too when you’re done in there.”

“I'm not a child…” Haseul retorts, but fails to muster defiance nor determination in her voice. She tries recalling when she did last brush her teeth, drawing only blanks. She hears the toilet lid shut, followed by a dull thud, and what is unmistakably Eunbi's sigh from the other side of the curtain.

“I know, Seul. Me neither. We have to tough it out, okay?”

“That's not helping. That's just the usual bullshit in a different voice.”

A moment of silence takes the bathroom, making way for the beads of shower water hitting the bathtub in light clunks. The water level tries rising, and Haseul finally gives in and helps it along—she unfolds her legs to let them sink into the collecting water. The initial split second of cold fades just as fast as it comes, and with a harsh shudder Haseul empties her lungs sharply again.

~~~

“One last thing,” Eunbi announces as she fluffs her pillow, “I'm right out here. I can hear you, and I'm a light sleeper. Don't try anything, funny or otherwise,” she chides with finality.

“I don't appreciate being talked to like that.” Haseul’s tone is wistful, or thoughtful at the very least. She only leans in the doorway connecting the hall to the living room, and her arms cross by themselves as she unconsciously shields herself from the prodding into her psyche.

“Yes, you do. Deny it all you want.” Satisfied, Eunbi falls gently back onto the couch, and then throws her borrowed blanket over her feet and legs. She tugs her sleep mask over her eyes and flashes a smile and a thumbs up in Haseul’s general direction, missing only narrowly and reassuring the light switch beside her instead.

Haseul only watches. Eunbi settles her pillow onto the couch's armrest, and then her head onto the pillow. The smile never leaves her unnie's face, and for the first time this night, Haseul starts to believe it's genuine.

She heads back to her too-big bedroom, gets in her too-fluffy bed, claps twice to turn off her too-fancy light. The glow-in-the-dark moon and shapes stickers on her ceiling swirl in her eyes as if actually in orbit; the circles, squares, triangles, and single crescent all pull her into a meditative trance. She contemplates just what Eunbi means by everything she's said and done, as well as anything she's yet to say and do.

Complimented on her looks even though she's a mess. Scolded for not bathing and made to brush her teeth. Comforted like a child who's scared of the monsters under her bed. She knows Eunbi means well and come from a place of genuine concern, but that doesn't change the fact that Haseul isn't someone to handle like some glass figurine—she’s not fragile, not pretty, and certainly not teetering on the edge. She can’t—

Tears run down her face to the back of her head. They slice a line of cold on her temples as they fall, while she lies there defenseless and gasping for air that can’t seem to make its way into her lungs. Her hands can’t find themselves either: they lay motionless, folded over each other on her stomach, not even able to wrap around one another. Above all else, her blanket feels like spikes and feathers on her skin, millions of pounds of what should only be cotton crushing her under its weight.

Try as she might, Haseul doesn’t have enough sharp fear to build panic with in her chest. It’s only the dumb, soft knockoff kind of fear that she knows rises from something not even real. She should be able to call for help, scream, even just cry properly, but there’s just not enough air, not enough strength in her for it. So, as she lies there motionless, voiceless, helpless, she ponders the situation she finds herself in: one she can only ever think of as absurd.

A beam of light cuts through the suffocating darkness and through Haseul’s wallowing in despair: “Hey, where’s your ramyeon?” All her hope rides on it being Eunbi, of course it’s Eunbi, please god let it be Eunbi—come back, I’m awake, I can’t move—

“Shit.” Heavy footsteps on Haseul's wooden bedroom floor, and Eunbi appears next to her. “What's wrong? Why aren't you talking?” Her leader's intuition serves her well, and she hears Haseul's light, labored breathing through the ambient hum of the humidifier and sees her ice-cold tears amidst the cloudy darkness. Gentle and gentler, she helps Haseul sit up—more like doing the heavy lifting all by herself, but she was never one to complain. Neither of them were.

Haseul can only gasp and sob as her lungs start back up. She mumbles through her hiccups, feeling sorry for herself while Eunbi looks on with a concern that Haseul has only ever found disgusting. It only weighs more on Haseul’s tired shoulders, and once she's calmed down and crying properly, she slumps back against her headboard while Eunbi only stares and waits.

“It's…” Haseul finally chokes out, “It's in the kitchen island,” she wipes her tears away with her sleeve, “t-take as many as you like…” and Haseul finally completely breaks down. Her hand shoots to her pillow and grabs like a bird clenching claws around prey, then bringing it to her face as if about to rip it to shreds.

A wail muffled, and Eunbi knows why.

~~~

“A disservice to look away,” Eunbi thinks, “a dishonor to look back.” She tentatively squeezes Haseul’s knee as the latter sobs pathetically into her pillow. She just waits; there’s nothing to be said nor done when this starts other than to ride it out. And it’s all too familiar: the weight of responsibility—and the sudden lack of it—can be crushing.

It’s a good while before Haseul fully settles down. So Eunbi’s attention wanders around her friend’s room: the humidifier humming softly in the corner, the glow-in-the-dark space stickers right above her bed, the window that showcases the best of the Seoul skyline after dark. She recalls the singular time Haseul had ever told her about what it’s like in her house, when the power cut across the entire city, and for the first time ever, in that one split-second you could see the universe in the sky like it was a dream. It was the one time Haseul had ever shared something like that to someone who, in Haseul’s own words, “understands.”

“I’m so tired…” Haseul confesses wearily. She retreats her pillow off to the side, though her sobs still punctuate her speech. Eunbi wraps an arm around her shoulders, and Haseul slumps onto hers in turn. Eunbi makes to wipe every tear that forms at the corners of her friend’s eyes, long before Haseul musters the will to do so herself. It’s a burden to carry, something the both of them know all too well.

“It’s okay,” consoles Eunbi as her shoulder continues to grow wetter, “Lean on me.”

“That’s really corny,” Haseul retorts with as much of a chuckle as she can muster, “even for you.”

And Eunbi can only keep wiping away her tears, can only let her lean; she can’t take away the source of her tears or her weakness. She could never admit it, but Haseul already knows: it tears at Eunbi’s heart too.

“I’m really sorry… I know this is hard.” Haseul finally rights herself off of Eunbi’s shoulder. Eunbi can only scoff at the thought, wishing for this to be the “hard” she had to go through again, what she would give for this to be the weight she bore every day like before.

“You don’t have to apologize. It isn’t easy for you either,” she comforts, “you called me here because I understood, right?”

~~~

It stops Haseul in her tracks. “Was I always that easy to read—No, where the hell did Eunbi get that idea—How dare she come into my home uninvited and—”

“Could you tell me about it? What it’s like still having chicks in your nest?” She never feels Eunbi’s eyes on her; the faint reflection on her bedroom window only shows her friend gazing out at nothing of importance. She can see the flat, almost bored expression in her face as she asks a question much more loaded than probably even Eunbi could have ever expected to ask.

She meets her eyes through the makeshift mirror instead, looking past the skyscrapers and headlights and into the heart of the friend who understands. “I caught you. It hurts too.” Haseul says it with more surprise than anything else, finding something in herself she didn’t know was still there.

She feels the mattress bounce ever so slightly, sees Eunbi drop her head and chuckle at the accusation. “I can’t be the one who understands forever, you know? We grow up all the same, things change. We of all people should know that.”

“Your nest isn’t empty, is it? They still look up to you for support and guidance.”

“Yeah,” Eunbi concedes, “but it isn’t the same. They write their own songs now, have their own members to look after, follow rules that don’t also apply to me. I can pretend all I want, but it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not their leader anymore.”

They sit in silence, sharing a view that reveals different things. Haseul looks out to the night sky, the stars hiding behind the blinding lights of Seoul. She grows wistful herself, recalling but not mourning a past that’s been both too long ago yet not long enough.

“Jiwoo calls,” Haseul sighs. “She calls a lot more often now. I remember when she played with the other members, and would try to turn and hide when the tears came. And Hyunjin—bless her heart—she complains about her members. Kahei laughs at her because she says she’s turning into me.”

Eunbi chuckles back, “Is that good? Turning into you?”

Haseul takes a moment to really, really think: “What does it mean to be turning into me?” She notes how her members would poke her cheek awake when they needed something, when she had to do the same when their schedules called for too-early mornings. She always ate last, but never least—her members made sure of that. She was a shoulder to cry on more often than not, and she’d told herself so many times that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It’s… good. It’s like a dream, being theirs to have and…” Haseul’s voice lowers much more than she meant it to, finding comfort in the responsibility instead of burden, “and bother.”

Eunbi tilts her head, seeing past the intrusive lights of the world below. Her hair falls over her shoulder, and a smile buds across her face. “That’s all that really matters at the end of the day, right?”

“You gave me too much credit, by the way.” Haseul gives her friend a gentle shove, and Eunbi can only smile and breathe out in response. “You’re putting words in my mouth, ‘because you understood,’ I’m not that smart.”

“That’s not for me to decide, Seul. It’s for you, and it seems like you made a good decision.” She finally meets her eyes—properly this time—and Eunbi pats her head. It’s not comforting, not patronizing, certainly not grandstanding. It was simply recalling something Eunbi had lost herself.

Haseul can do nothing to hold back the question, intrusive or disrespectful it may be. “Eunbi, does it get any easier?” Most of her wishes she could take it back, but part of her thinks Eunbi can’t answer quick enough. She waits with a hope she can’t understand, one between anticipation and despair, for an answer she couldn’t possibly prepare for.

It takes Eunbi a few moments, the gears quietly turning in her head as if they hadn’t turned in ages, “Yeah, it does. It gets so easy that it gets hard again. You start to miss the feeling of missing rather than just missing the thing itself.”

Haseul notes the wistful tone woven into her friend’s voice, finding nothing but bitter truth and an honesty that can’t help but be brutal. “That sounds really scary.”

“Growing up is scary. Scary when it’s them, weird when it’s you. But you do anyway.”

“Do… do you ever wish it didn’t happen? Disbanding, I mean.” Haseul knows this is dangerous territory now, but with Eunbi, it feels tender, if not a little bit sore. “Sorry. Don’t answer that—”

“Of course I did. Of course I do. What do you take me for, Haseul?” Eunbi laughs a shy laugh, feigning offense at Haseul’s pitiful attempt at dissecting her. “I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I made a sacrifice for the good of everyone else. I tried to hold on so hard. And I lost. Lost the group, lost them. How does that make you feel?”

“Afraid… like it’s prophetic. Like there’s not a universe out there where I win.”

~~~

“Seoul had never looked so pretty,” Eunbi thinks. She wonders about what it would be like to see it when everything was dark, and the embroidered starlight behind the cloudy city lights would be bare to admire as much and as long as she liked.

Nearly four years now, the only thing Eunbi can wave over Haseul in this moment: the certainty of an ending rather than the dwindling hope of a cliffhanger. It isn’t envy—Eunbi can’t afford to let herself get jealous—but a victory that lets her simply call it a day. She rests easy, knowing her legacy had never really disappeared, but took on new forms and reached greater heights in her kids: Chaewon still calls, much more often now, and Wonyoung laughs when Yujin complains.

“Well, who’s to say?” Eunbi shrugs, “But there is a universe where it’s just dreamlike.”

~~~

#fic box #izone fluff #loona fluff #eunbi fluff #haseul fluff #kwon eunbi #jo haseul

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maesterchill · 3 days ago

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tea is served

Written for the @drarrymicrofic prompt 'Slander' (225 words)

‘And then there was that time during potty training when he waddled off to the hydrangea bushes and dropped his tiny trousers. Sadly unaware of the very inquisitive peacock lurking behind him. He ran screeching through the manor and complained of a “sore botty” for weeks.’

“Oh my god,” Harry laughed.

‘Don’t forget the massive crush he had on the Minister for Magic.’

“Fudge?!”

‘Oh yes. Obsessed. He kept so many election flyers and clippings under his pillow that there was a permanent imprint of Cornelius’ face on the satin.’

“Amazing.”

‘That was, of course, until he started at Hogwarts. The house-elves were under strict instructions not to disturb the Witch Weekly shrine. Or his Boy-Who-Lived figurine collection.’

“I'm sorry, his what?”

‘You heard me. Breakfast cereal toys. All. Seven. Limited. Editions.’

"No way. I can't—"

‘Septimus, tell him about when Draco spent an entire weekend begging Mummy dearest to help him sew some costumes to impress a boy at school—’

The parlour door burst open. It was Draco—clearly finished in the little boys' room, though he looked far more panicked than freshened up.

“Lies! Scurrilous lies! Harry, you must know these buffoons are just portraits and don’t have real memories.”

Harry lifted his teacup, and then a single eyebrow. “Mm hmm.” He took a sip. “Just please tell me you kept the Fudge pillowcase.”

#ok just suspend your disbelief that the Malfoy ancestors would know about breakfast cereal toys etc #kthx reader #drarry #drarry microfic #maesterchill blethers

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oneforthemunny · 1 year ago

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build me up, buttercup |dad!rockstar!eddie munson x mom!nepo baby!reader|

prompt: you and eddie are planning a baby shower to welcome in your first baby, persephone. or how the girl's flower themes are born.

a teeny tiny blurb that i'm excited to share. follows the lore than each of the girls have their own flowers, and this is how persephone's came to be <3 hope you enjoy!

contains: pure fluff. honestly just cutesy shit. language. pregnant!reader.

"I just want something bright." You hum, swaying gently to soothe your sore, aching joints. Your ring dazzled in the bright light pouring in from the open windows, smoothing over the swell of your stomach.

"Is there a specific color, Mrs. Munson?" The timid event planner asked, spreading out swatches of bright yellows, powdery blues, pastel pinks. "If we start with a color, maybe that would help narrow down the options?"

"I don't know." You frowned, a swell of frustrated tears bubbling to life in your chest. You didn't know, and you hated that you didn't know. It was your baby shower, you wanted it to be perfect.

Eddie's spine straightened, eyes cutting to you carefully. He sensed the tears, the irritation of feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, all threatening to come out the only way they knew how to. He'd been on the receiving end of too many of those fits. His hand found your thigh, squeezing it gently, thumb rubbing soft circles over your soft flesh, a desperate attempt to soothe.

"You're wanting flowers, right? That's the main theme." Your assistant, Natasha, a complete saint in disguise. With pregnancy brain and hormones, you were sure you'd never make it without her. "Do you have options for a floral theme?"

"Yes," The planner squeaked, thumbing through her briefcase of photos, swatches, notes.

Eddie felt you tense, your hand rubbing over your stomach in slow circles, huffing in defeat. "Hey, could you give us a second, Nat?" Eddie hummed. "Just give us one sec to look and kinda talk."

"Of course. Let's take a little break. I'll go get some tea." Natasha gave you both a small smile, padding to the kitchen the event planner following closely behind.

Your sigh, heavy and huffy, echoed off the walls. It made Eddie cringe gently, pulling the flower pictures closer to the two of you. "What about this one? Nice and pink for ya." Eddie held the small sample photo up to you, filled with sweet peas and hydrangeas, obnoxiously pink.

"Yeah," You muttered, lips still puffed in a pout. "I don't even know if I want pink anymore."

"Blue?" Eddie grinned lightly. "Trick everyone into thinking it's a boy incase there's a leak." He cringed when your breath hitched, eyes wide in horror.

"I'm kidding, baby." Eddie added quickly. "No one's gonna leak. We're keeping it intimate."

"Yeah, right." You sighed. "My mom and dad will bring all these people I barely even know."

"And I'll tell them to leave." Eddie's chest puffed, spine straightening. "I'm serious. They're not on the list, they can fuck off, alright? Goes for Victor and Tana too. Not gonna let them upset you."

The small smile you gave him felt like a standing ovation, a victorious win after a grueling, hard day. Filled his chest with warmth, hand squeezing yours lightly.

"If there's even a shower to kick them out of." Your smile fell just as quickly as it came, shoulders slumping with them. "Can't even pick a theme."

"We'll get it. C'mon," Eddie's calloused fingertips tickled your jaw, lifting your gaze to his. "Don't be like that, sweetheart."

"I can be like that if I want to." Your voice teetered on the edge of a whine, the hinting of a cry. "I can't even make a decision about a baby shower theme. How am I going to make a decision about a baby?"

"Stop that." Eddie shook his head, voice dropping to a soft coo. "Two totally different things, baby. Not even comparable." It was rational, firm but soothed your bundles of nerves. You both had your own worries, fears about parenthood- fear of the unknown that was creeping closer and closer.

"Here," Eddie stood, chains hanging from his jeans jingling with every heavy step towards the shelves on either side of the television, lined with books.

Eddie's fingers danced over the spines, until he found the book. Still new, no cracks in the spine or bent pages, a gift from Farrah when you told her the baby's name. "I saw it at this bookstore in Amsterdam. I had to get it." She'd squealed, giving you the book with a title that your baby shared- Persephone.

Eddie had been more elated than you, reading it front to back more than once. Reading it to you at night, eyes lighting when he'd read something interesting.

"I think I saw somethin' in here." Eddie sank back down beside you on the couch. "Just an idea."

You curled into him, knees tucked under you, head on the soft, worn material of his t-shirt. His cologne, a faint smoky smell of a cigarette- you could feel your body relaxing, intoxicatingly calm.

Calloused fingertips thumbed through the pages until he found the page he was looking for, lips parting in a soft, triumphant hum. "Look," Eddie tilted the page towards you, fingertip tracing the small etching of a flower. "Says there's some history behind this flower and Persephone."

You titled your head, eyes scanning over the text.

"In the Homeric Hymn to Demeter, Earth Goddess Gaia produced the yellow petaled Narcissus specifically to enchant Persephone. Now, this early blooming flower is seen as the harbinger of Spring, announcing Persephone's ascent to the surface."

"Interestingly, for all it's association with rebirth and new life with Spring, the bulb is highly toxic?" You frowned, head tilting up towards Eddie.

His lips curled in a wide, excited grin, eyes shining with gleaming pride. "That's fucking cool, isn't it?" Eddie beamed.

Heat blossomed in your chest, dissolving the feeling of frustration and fear, and blooming with something lighter. Soothing and happy, spreading through your chest all the way to your cheeks.

"That is pretty cool." You nodded, scanning the table for a yellow swatch. "We could do like a yellow and white kinda theme, right? That would be neutral in case it did get leaked."

Eddie gave a small eye roll. "It won't get leaked." He muttered, setting the book to the side. "But, yeah, neutral but still bright."

"Make the narcissus the main flower. Maybe add baby's breath and something else..." You muttered, pulling the swatches in front of you. Eddie's chest boasted, watching your small frown on your features, determined instead of frustrated now.

"Do they keep?" You turned to Eddie. "Like, they won't wilt or be gross, right?"

"Buttercups? Nah, they'll keep." Eddie shook his head gently. "Used to pick them for my mom all the time when I was little. She'd keep 'em in a vase and some water, and they'd stay forever."

Your heart swelled, a dull ache behind his words. Even now, married and expecting a baby, Eddie rarely spoke about his mother. Every small detail he'd share, you'd guard protectively in your thoughts, wanting to remember every detail you could.

"Ok," You nodded, a small sigh of relief. "Let's do that then."

You groaned, pushing off the back of the couch, Eddie's hands quickly finding your waist to help you stand. "Will you go get them? I have to pee, and I'll be right back."

Weeks later, Eddie was sure he'd never seen so many shades of yellow- so many flowers in his life. Your family's Malibu home transformed to a bright, floral baby shower of your dreams. Buttercups at every arrangement, starred prominently in bustles of baby's breath and tiny white daisies. All the guests even in various shades of yellow, shining brightly under the California sun.

Eddie managed to sneak a bouquet after the party, when you'd gone to lay down and the staff was cleaning up. He'd handed it to Natasha, sent it with her to get pressed and framed, until it found it's new home in the nursery.

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outerbankies · 8 months ago

Note

the pool scene was SOOOO new light summer coded like right at the start ☀️ he comes to bring her her morning coffee and she’s like hmmmm can’t you just stay here and quit ur job pls!!!! and you know for a split second he’s considering it

OOPS!

new light: summer love

new light masterlist

a/n: also takes care of (caressing inner thigh then slowly leaning in to trail kisses) from the prompt celly! wahoooooo

You’re just about to doze off beside your parents’ pool, Gretchen stretched out on the chaise lounge beside you while Margot lazes on a raft in the pool, the thick July humidity and the shade of the gigantic oak trees covered in Spanish moss enough to lull you into a cat nap.

But your parents’ dog Wilbur, who’d taken refuge under your chair, scrambles out from under and bolts through the back garden and toward the house, causing the three of you to investigate the intrusion on your otherwise perfect, post-workout pool day.

“Ladies,” Rafe greets, emerging from rows of hydrangea bushes dressed in his business casual. You place a hand over your eyes to block the sun and see him better in his powder blue button-up, navy-patterned tie faltering in the slight breeze. He makes a beeline once he spots you, setting what he’d been carrying down on the unoccupied lounge to your other side: a cardboard tray of three iced coffees from your favorite shop in town, the one you happen to know is so out of the way if he left from his dad’s office.

You hadn’t even expected to see him today, the scheduling gods against you both, but here he is taking a seat right beside you on your own chaise, leaning over you just close enough you catch his cologne, before he pulls his wayfarers off and places them on top of his head.

“Hi,” he says, leaning down for a kiss. He lets it linger, or maybe you do, still a bit stunned to see him here right now.

“Hi,” you finally answer, taking his face in your hands the red of your nails a contrast to his cheeks. “What are you doing here, Rafe?”

He shrugs, eyes flickering down to your lips, where you’d just reapplied your Laneige, before he steals another kiss. “Wanted to see you. How was pilates?”

“Spin,” you correct, still dazed, even as you feel your chair move when your dog dives back under it. “It was good. Still waiting for you to join us like you promised you would.”

“And I will,” he promises again, with another shrug. “Before the end of the summer.”

“Sorry to ruin your nooner, Cameron!” comes Margot’s voice from the pool. Gretchen and Rafe both laugh but you just groan, hiding your face in your hands as he twists toward her to make his reply, his tongue just as quick.

“All good, Margs. Brought you a coffee, if you wanna act a little more grateful,” he says, tilting his head toward the drink carrier.

Gretchen gasps as she sits up, up until this point laid back and watching you two with a sickly fond look, “Me too?”

“Of course,” Rafe replies. “I know Y/n/n is a fiend, but these aren’t all for her.”

She pats his shoulder, squealing on her way to pick up her drink, taking Margot’s too and walking toward the other side of the pool where the other girl floats, chancing a wink back at you as she leaves earshot.

“I’m covered in tanning oil,” you say in warning, concerned for his pastel shirt and what Ward will say if he comes back from lunch covered in oily splotches, as you feel him sink further into your side.

“I’m very aware of what you are and aren’t covered in right now,” he murmurs. Rafe seems completely indifferent to all the places your bodies touch, giving you a once-over.

You make hands at the last drink in the carrier, humming in satisfaction when he hands it over and it tastes exactly how you thought it would. “You on lunch?”

He nods. “Didn’t realize I wouldn’t get to see you tonight, so.”

“I know,” you sigh. “I’m sorry I got the days mixed up, but the Boneyard should still be fun.”

You had an overnight babysitting gig a few neighborhoods over that you thought wasn’t until tomorrow, putting a bit of a wrench in the dinner plans you made with your boyfriend before you were supposed to ride with your friends to a bonfire.

You’d let him know as soon as you confirmed with the kid’s parents this morning, to which Rafe had replied a long (and dramatic) chain of sad faces.

“It’s okay, baby. Might stay in anyway,” he says, kissing your cheek, then hiding his face there for a second. His lips brush the shell of your ear, “especially if there’s any possible way you sneak me into the Truitts’ tonight.”

When he pulls away to smirk at you, you grasp onto his tie, keeping him close to your face. “You’re not down.”

Rafe swallows, and you hate the way your eyes track the movement of his throat. “It would be worth the awkward run-in with Mrs. Truitt at the Island Club.”

“You can barely handle sneaking in here,” you say, your head tilting toward your bedroom window, which Rafe takes a second to look at wistfully, probably reminiscing on the times he’s nearly broken an ankle scaling the trellis for it this summer. “You jump every time you hear a creak in the night, thinking it’s my dad about to drag you out by your ears.”

“There are a lot of creaks at night,” he defends.

“Old house,” you challenge, releasing him and stretching your arms up over your head, settling down further into the chaise. “You should be used to it by now.”

The hand he’d been resting on your knee cap trails just slightly down your inner thigh. “I’ll never be used to this.”

You sigh, pressing our legs together, which budges his hand out from the area it’d been exploring. But Rafe’s touch doesn’t stray far, the metal on his ring finger resting on your outer thigh instead, his thumb stroking.

“You’re teasing me,” you warn.

His thumb hooks into the string of your bathing suit bottoms. “Oh, I’m teasing you?”

“Sure you can’t quit your job?”

“Be our coffee boy forever,” Margot calls.

“We tip!” Gretchen tacks on.

“Well with an offer like that…” he murmurs only for you to hear, suddenly as privy as you to the fact that your friends are probably listening in on as much as they possibly can.

He still leans in for another kiss though, a few pecks trailing from your lips, over your jaw and down to where the strap of your bathing suit top rests over your neck, his face coming back to hover over yours as his eyes slowly open again. “Dinner tomorrow instead?”

You nod readily. “Dinner tomorrow. I’ll be free by the afternoon. I could come meet you in town? By the office?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll come get you, sweetheart.”

You beam, pleased you already know when you’ll next see him again, even if it is over 24 hours from now. You couldn’t help it and neither could he; much to the chagrin of your parents and friends, the two of you were inseparable this summer. “Okay. And have fun tonight if you do go, alright?”

He shakes his head, collapsing back into you, his face hidden in your neck again.

“Nooo,” he whines. “On the real, if I did come to the Truitts—”

“Alright,” you laugh, getting your hands under his shoulders to push him away. “I’m pretty sure your lunch is over.”

“Over when I say it is,” he says, not going without a few more kisses, one somehow ending up on your shoulder, right over a mark you’d had to cover up with clothes and concealer ever since he left it there. But he eventually does let you breathe, leaving a hand on your cheek while he checks the watch on his other wrist. “You’re right though. Shit.”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding into his palm. “Have a good rest of your day. I’m happy you came by.”

He kisses your forehead before finally standing again, readjusting his tie, looking down at it and then back to you. “I’m happy, too. How do I look?”

“Oh my god, fine, Rafe. Get outta here!” Margot shouts.

Over the sound of Gretchen’s laughter, you nod in assurance at him. “You look good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He just barely avoids a splash of water from the girls as he makes his way back inside, causing you to laugh around the straw of your drink, which you’d barely gotten to try. Rafe looks back from the hydrangeas as he puts his sunglasses back on, shaking his head with a grin splitting his face.

You don’t know how you’ll last ’til tomorrow.

#you were miiiiiiiine for the summer #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks imagine #rafe cameron #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine

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mochinomnoms · 2 years ago

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Hello I saw your event and got interested! I was wondering if you could do #24 with Idia (romantic, fluff, and suggestive if possible) with fem!reader?

idia shroud x f!reader [tags] – romantic, fluff, suggestive [wc} – 3, 241 prompt 24: “I'm so happy that you confessed first.” “Why?” “If I had to dig out another hydrangea petal from my teeth, I was gonna lose it.” notes - the only way to write idia is kind pathetic like a wet cat. i love pathetic men a floral inconvenience

According to legend, a Japanese emperor gave blue hydrangeas to the girl he loved, to apologize for neglecting her and to show how much he really cared for her. Their petal shape resembles a beating heart.

Idia thinks that he was cursed in a past life for doing something awful. Maybe he kidnapped someone’s kid and tried to kill them. Maybe he tried to overthrow the gods and take over himself, but failed miserably. Or maybe, worst of all: broke someone’s limited-edition, vintage Tokyo Mew Mew Ichigo figurine.

He sure as the underworld that he did something, why else would he be puking up hanahaki flowers like some cringey Canon x Reader fanfic?

“Big Bro! You really should go to the school infirmary, the petals and stems can cause irritation and damage to the trachea and nasopharynx if not treated properly!”

Ortho was currently hovering over him, fretting like a mother hen over her chick. How ironic, Idia thought as he picked at the petals still in his teeth, it was for the little brother to be caring for the elder.

“Why do that when I can just have the school delivery bots bring me medicine. Then I won’t have to interact with anyone, I’d literally DIE if anyone saw me like this…”

Especially if the Prefect saw him. The image of her sweet face, and beaming smile…like a scene from a shoujo manga, flooded his mind. He could practically hear her voice, full of concern, asking, “Are you okay, Idia?”

Idia fell into a sneezing fit, petals flying from his mouth and nose as his sneezes continued, one after the other, until he was also thrown into a hoarse, wet-sounding cough.

“Big Bro! That’s it, you’re going to the nurse!” Ortho, despite being quite small, grabbed Idia by the back of his striped pajama shirt, much like one grabs a wet cat by the scruff of its neck.

“UUuuuuuuuuuughghuguguguhidonwannaaaaaaaaAAAAAHHHh!” Idia cried out in a whiney, high-pitched tone.

His brother, perhaps taking pity on his brother, took the shortcut to the infirmary, cutting directly pass the buildings and fields as Idia’s arms and legs loosely flew like cooked spaghetti noodles. Flying through the window that Nurse Goethel often kept open for fresh air, Ortho plopped Idia into a spare bed, who collapsed like a ragdoll into the thin mattress.

“I’ll go check you in with the Nurse, I’ll be right back, please make yourself comfortable Idia!”

Idia gave a muffled grumble as a response, shoving his face further into the hard surface of the bed with a sense of dread. He could hear Ortho speak with Goethel at her desk.

Well, he thought, at least she won’t see me looking all gross and lovesick like some normie—

“Idia, oh my god, are you sick?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—”

A shrill, ear-splitting shriek left his mouth as the flames of his hair blew up into a blazing hot pink. Idia bolted him, a sharp pain hitting the top of his head as he heard you yelp. As he rubbed the pained spot, Idia noticed that you too were rubbing your chin. Oh Sevens, he hit your chin with his big, stupid head.

“Ooowwwww, damn Idia, you hit hard…” you hissed, though you gave him a sweet smile in reassurance.

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have scared you…though why are you covered in flowers?”

Idia froze, debating on whether or not he should open his mouth and potentially say something damning, or just stay quiet and hope you’d just get weirded out and leave.

“Because he’s an idiot who didn’t come to immediately see me at the first petal cough!”

The nurse came up to Idia with a disapproving glare, handing you a clipboard and pen before slipping on a clean pair of gloves.

“Prefect, please check the boxes for every symptom I find. I believe I know what it is, but we need to check all our bases.”

Idia peeked at you from the corner of his eye as you smiled at him, waving your fingers as the nurse whispered a spell to turn her magic pen into a makeshift flashlight.

“Now, open up and say ‘ah’ so I can see what those flowers are doing to you.”

Following her instructions, Idia tried his best to be a cooperative and willing patient, if just to get out of here faster. Unfortunately, your presence only seemed to make it harder to do so, as hydrangea flowers bloomed from the pores of his skin, focusing particularly around his hands and neck.

The nurse, he’s sure, could also see the magic sparkles forming as a new bouquet formed through his throat and shot up his mouth. She tsked, leaning back to allow Idia to hack out the now decent sized hydrangea bouquet. They were a vibrant blue, much like his hair.

“Ah, go, go on and let it out.” The nurse waved a hand at Ortho. “Dear, please fetch your brother a cup of the tea I have brewing at my desk. Prefect? Please note that the patient has no evidence of root growth in his throat.”

“Root growth!? Is my brother going to be okay?” Ortho worriedly rushed over, the tea spilling over the rim of the foam cup. “Is it a curse or disease? Is my brother growing a plant in his lungs!?”

“Ortho, you scanned me earlier this week, remember?” Idia hoarsely replied, taking the tea to gingerly sip at it. “Nothing in ‘em, or my stomach ‘cept ramen noods.”

“A WEEK?!” The three of you flinched at the shrill gasp of Goethel, who was glaring daggers at Idia. “Mr. Shroud, you’ve been sick with an unknown flora disease and you didn’t even bother to let the staff know? What if you were contagious!!”

Idia shrank into himself as he whispered, “It’s not like I leave my room…”

“Bateria or the pollen could’ve gotten into the air vents and infected the rest of your dorm, ugh.” The nurse sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before addressing you. “Miss Y/N, if you mark down the lack of root growth, fever, and magical origin of the flowers, what do you get?”

He watched as you flipped through the clipboard, smile slightly faltering as you read one of the papers. You cleared your face briefly, before smiling politely back at the nurse and Idia.

“Based on everything, it seems that Idia most likely has the flower sickness, also known as the love sickness, petal fever, or, most commonly, hanahaki.”

Idia cringed at the cold, monotone sound of your voice. Now he’d done it. You knew, somehow you knew that he had the biggest, fattest, most twitterpated-full crush on you. No, crush was understated. He had dreams of you, the cringiest, domestic fantasy-based shit where he’d imagine you, waking up in bed with him back at the Island of Woe. You had given him a sleepy smile as you curled into side, naked. With a smile and a kiss to his lips, dream you turned over to hover over him, trailing small kisses and love bites down his body, further and further as you whispered to him, over and over, “I love you, Idia—”

A queasy, dizzying feeling fell over Idia as a particularly painful croup caused him to double over and vomit last night's dinner alongside blue, heart-shaped petals.

“Idia!”

“Big Brother!”

“Shroud—Prefect, hold his hair back! Ortho, grab the trashcan, I’ll go get some cleaning supplies and new sheets.”

Nurse Goethel barked orders to the other two, who quickly jumped into action. Idia could feel a shiver as he felt your hands softly grasp his flaming hair, fingers grazing his cheek as you tucked his bangs behind his ears. He could barely make out your coos, no doubt comforting him. You must be disgusted seeing him like this, having to care for a sopping wet cat of a man. Ortho was holding the trash can, right on time for Idia to hurl some more flowers and stomach acid.

“Oh, Idia…you poor thing.” You whispered into his ear, unintentionally causing his body to warm up and a chill go down his spine to settle in his abdomen. He was very aware that if he turned his head to look at you, he’d get a faceful of your chest like some harem isekai protag, the thought making him warm further and his tips pink again.

“I didn’t realize you were feeling this bad, Idia…” Ortho murmured, guilt in his voice. “I should’ve brought you sooner…”

“N-no…” Idia gravelly replied, wiping his mouth clean. “It’s not your fault Ortho, don’t beat yourself over it.”

Ortho still looked guilty, but nodded in affirmation, glancing at briefly at the Prefect. His gaze flitted between the two, and Idia could briefly see Ortho’s eyes go blank, as they did when searching through his knowledge database.

“Miss Prefect!” Ortho chirped, voice now perky much to Idia’s concern. “May I ask for a spare infirmary shirt for my brother? He must be very uncomfortable in his soiled one!”

Idia was now firmly and acutely aware of your hands still on him, thumb rubbing soothingly into his temple.

“Oh, of course Ortho.” You moved away, hands hovering for just a moment, as you replied, “They’re in the storage, I’ll be right back!”

Idia watched as you walked away into the infirmary storage. Ortho did as well, waiting until you were out of earshot to excitedly whisper, “Idia! I know it’ll be an easy fix!”

“Huh?” Idia rose an eyebrow at his brother, confusion setting in.

“It’s a love sickness, and you love the Prefect—Idia stop looking at me like that—so if you confess to them, the flowers will go away!”

Idia was still giving Ortho a horrified look, as he continued.

“Based on the timing of your reactions in correlation with close proximity within the Prefect, along with your increased heart rate at their touch, speech, and glances, and the fact that the Prefect stated on December 15th at 11:18:53 pm that she likes hydrangeas, she is the cause of the sickness. Right?”

“Ortho!’ Idia hissed, grabbing at his brother to shut him up despite Ortho not technically having a mouth.

“Quiet down, this isn’t some otome game where I can cheat and look online for the right responses. Did you see how she reacted earlier when she found out it was hanahaki, how disappointed she looked? There’s no way Y/N—I mean the Prefect, didn’t connect the dots.

“But, Big Brother!” Ortho whined, “Based on her heart rate and increased body temperature—”

“No is no, Ortho! It’s not going to be such an easy fix, I’ll just get rejected!”

“Technically speaking—” Idia and Ortho both jumped at the nurse’s voice, who was coming back from storage with clean linens. The Prefect followed with a new shirt.

“—you don’t need your beloved to accept your feelings, just confess them. Though it’s quite rare that it’s not reciprocated.”

The nurse motioned for Idia to get up as the Prefect handed him the shirt. She began taking the sheets off as the nurse addressed the two brothers.

“Mr. Shroud, if you are insisting on keeping this sickness intact for fear of rejection, then I will have to ask Professor Crewel for some more potent ingredients for your prescription. Little Shroud?”

“Oh, yes Nurse Goethel?”

“I could use your assistance, please come with me, Miss Y/N will tend to your brother,” She had a smug tone and smirk as she said this, motioning for Ortho to follow. “Mr. Shroud, please have no worry, she makes an excellent student nurse!”

Idia let out a defeated, low, whiney groan as he moped over behind one of the privacy screens. You remained quiet as you collected the dirty sheets. He could hear Goethel’s footsteps and Ortho’s fans fade away as they left further and further down the hall. Idia yanked his shirt off, slipping the clean one over his head, noting it was a tad bit too small. He grumbled in annoyance as he pulled the shirt down to cover his stomach.

“Idia?”

“Eeep!” Idia yelped, your voice coming from right behind the screen. “Y-yes?”

“Are you done changing? I can take your shirt to the hamper.”

He hummed in response, peeking his hand from behind the screen with the shirt in hand. As you took the shirt and walked away, Idia slowly moved to look at you. Once he was sure your eyes were firmly ahead (and briefly taking a look at your ass), he launched himself back into bed, the smell of clean linen filling his nose.

Idia sighed, a faux exhaustion settling into his bones as he sunk into the bed. He tensed as he felt you sit on the edge to this right.

“Idia?” you hummed as he closed his eyes to focus on the darkness behind them, instead of you worried expression.

He hummed in response.

“Nurse Goethel said that the remedy is actually quick and easy, right?”

He hummed again.

“You’ll just keep coughing hydrangeas until you do something, right?”

“...Yea.” Idia replied in a monotone voice.

You sighed, a bit in frustration he thinks. “So?”

“...So?”

“Why don’t you?” You stretched out the last vowel with a questioning sound.

“Why don’t I?” Idia mimicked you.

"Why don't you just confess?"

“Wha?” He yelped, looking at you like you’d grown heads like a hydra. “W-what do y-you mean, confess!? Are you crazy?”

You rolled your eyes and sighed, “It would help, wouldn’t it? And Nurse Goethel said it’s rare for it to not be reciprocated, so what do you have to lose?”

“First of all, what’s left of my dignity. Second, I’m not some ML in a romance manhwa. And, third!” Idia straightened up to look you in the eyes, a burst of confidence filling his veins in pure frustration and annoyance. “There’s no way that anyone would be interested in some loser like me, so what’s the point—”

“But I like you!”

Silence fell between you two as the realization of your words settled into both your minds. You, with a growing blush and look of embarrassment, and Idia gaping at you like a fish out of water.”

“Huh.”

“I said,” You murmured, twiddling with the ends of your hair. “That I like you. A lot. I think you’re really fun to be around, you’re even though you're shy and kinda geeky, you’re really passionate about the stuff you like. Idia.”

Your hand reached for his, hesitantly like you were afraid you’d burn him. As you laced your fingers together, Idia felt a lump form in his throat. He kept silent though, watching as you smiled shyly.

“You’re sweet to your brother, and I notice, to me sometimes too. Did you think I wouldn’t notice you coming out to class more often so we could hang? I missed you this week…it was really lonely without you, even with all my friends.”

Still holding his hand, you leaned in closer to his face, looking at him earnestly. Was this real? Did he unlock a secret route with you without noticing? Why did you keep looking at his lips? OMG WAS THIS REAL—

“Idia,” You snapped him out of his thoughts as the distance between you two kept closing. “If the person you like doesn’t return your feelings, then they didn’t deserve you in the first place. I’ll be there to support you, even if you don’t like me the same way, I’ll always care for you as your friend—”

“But it is you.” Idia blurted out. Whether it was due to a mysterious burst of energy or just a slip of the tongue, he didn’t know.

“W-what! Idia, you don’t have to try and make me feel—” you tried to stutter an excuse, cheeks pink like the fiery tips of his hair.

“It’s you! I got this cause of you, cause I knew—I thought,” Idia started to ramble, getting up to grab you by the shoulders and shake. “I thought that you couldn’t like some weirdo like me. Are you telling me I could’ve snatched an SSR level kiss scene with you at any time??!!”

It was your turn to be shocked, a bewildered look in your eyes and Idia rapidly spoke, taking little breaths between sentences.

“Do you know what you do to me?? The thoughts, the dreams I have about you? I see you and get all hot and bothered and you’re telling me that I didn’t have to be some maidenless normie this entire time? I could’ve been lockin’ lips and getting my dick we—”

A sharp shriek leaving Idia’s mouth was muffled as you shoved your lips into his, effectively shutting up his rant. He whimpered as you swiped your tongue along his lips, deepening the kiss as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Idia, perhaps in the throes of passion, or not wanting to miss out on this once in a lifetime pull, reciprocated, albeit with a nervous hesitation.

You seemed to approve, pressing your chest against his as your mouth moved against his, tongues dancing and moans being shared between half taken breaths. His hands hovered over you until you let go of his neck to guide his hands and place them over your hips. An arousing moan left your lips as your hands gently pushed his chest.

Idia’s world slightly shifted as he fell back first into the bed, your hair creating a curtain as you separated from him. A line of shiny spit followed you, breaking as he gasped for breath while you leaned back down to press kisses against his neck, flowering the disappearing hydrangeas.

He yelped as your teeth scraped a particularly sensitive spot, opening his mouth to blurt out, “I'm so happy that you confessed first.”

You let out a breathless giggle, turning your head and resting your chin on his neck to look up at him with, he swears on the Star Rouge sequel, hearts in your eyes. “Why?”

“If I had to dig out another hydrangea petal from my teeth, I was gonna lose it.” Idia chuckled, “I’m sorry you have to deal with such a coward like me.”

“Idia.” You firmly responded, “Don’t. I like you as you are. We’re both young, we have time to grow. I’ll grow with you, if you’ll have me?

Looking down at you, practically on top of him, Idia opened his mouth to tease your softness, and suddenly froze. The mortifying, though wonderful he had to admit, scene was dawning on him as his entire body heated up and turned red.

“Uuuuuwwwwwahaaahahahahaha—you’reontopofmethere’sagirlontopofmeisthisanewlevelinyourouteIdidn’tprepareforthis—mmmfph!”

You effectively shut him up with another kiss to his lips, smiling as Idia was shocked into silence with a dopy, wobbly smile forming on his lips.

“Relax, Idia, I’ll take the lead on all the romance stuff until you get the hang of it. For now you can be my player two!”

Idia snorted, smirking at you as he teased, “That’s such a cringey thing to say~”

“You say things like that all the time!”

The two of you shared a soft laugh, unaware of the audience of two at the door watching. Ortho recorded the memory for the wedding he was already planning in his head, while the nurse muttered to herself about wasting time gathering ingredients for a prescription potion she no longer needed. Despite this, she smiled, happy that her little words of encouragement to the Prefect earlier worked.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #idia shroud #twst idia #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #twst idia x reader #suggestive #a floral inconvenience

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