#;; you know its bad when you want to bite your motivation and realized [ oh shit im the one whos doing this to myself ]

[oletus-manors-log]

Writer's block sucks ;;;

[lilyevanstan1325]

❤️ Built For This World ❤️

Chapter 3

I look around trying not to lose my mind.

Behind me I can hear the quiet patter of a horse, its low whinnies are the only thing keeping me company.

They won't kill me.

Right?

Oh shit.

Ok ok, I have to stay calm, I can't lose my mind right now.

Breathe Summer, breathe.

Despite the darkness, interrupted by only a few rays of moonlight passing through the old wooden planks of the ceiling, if I concentrated I could try to understand how the hell to escape from this place.

Would it be such a bad idea after all?

I almost miss the woods full of biters.

I sigh shaking my head.

Bullshit.

I'm just panicking and this isn't going to help.

I'm safe now.

I'll be fine here and Daryl won't let anything happen to me.

Daryl.

Another big sigh leaves my lips.

I'll be honest, when he puts a gun to my head I felt betrayed.

It was an unexpected gesture but after the initial shock I think I can understand his motivations.

He doesn't know who I am and the people he cares about live here.

From what I understand and from what little I was able to see there are women here and perhaps even children.

It is more than normal to want to protect them from the new intruder, even if the new intruder is a girl on the edge of death.

A pang runs through my shoulders.

Damn Shane.

That's the name of the man with the crazy look who tied me up as if I were a serial killer.

Without even realizing it, I relive in my mind the meeting with these people on the top of the hill.

As soon as the three men reached us, the one with the shaved head was the first to start yelling at Daryl.

"Are you crazy?What the hell is going through your head?And who the hell is this kid?” he shouted, looking down at me and waving the gun in my direction.

I found myself staring into two black pools full of hate and…madness?

For the first time since I set foot out of that damned woods full of biters, I was truly scared.

I felt a drop of cold sweat run down my spine and with eyes wide open and full of panic I did the only thing I thought was safe at that moment.

I turned my head in the direction of the archer, looking for help, finding his blue eyes already fixed on me.

I know it was an irrational thought.

Asking for help from the man who points a gun at your head is certainly not a smart move but at that moment my every action was the result of my instinct.

I remember moving a little more towards him, sliding my knees on the hard ground scratching my knees, bringing me closer to the archer's legs.

The tip of my left shoulder grazed his knee.

Without hesitation Daryl moved from my side and positioned himself in front of me, interposing himself between me and that dickhead who, waiting for an answer, was looking at me as if he was ready to rip my heart out of my chest.

With bare hands.

Everything about him screamed danger.

There is definitely something wrong with him.

At that moment, however, I couldn't do anything other than look at Daryl.

From my perspective I could only see his boots but better than the eyes of that raging madman.

Now he was my only chance of salvation.

Daryl for his part seemed calm.

Relaxed.

Even too much.

Looking up I saw him take a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his jeans and very calmly, as if at that moment we didn't have the end of the world on our heels ready to bite us in the ass, he took a cigarette, lit it and took a long, deep drag.

Spirals of white smoke dispersed freely into the sky.

For a moment he turned his head, glancing over his shoulder, right at my figure kneeling on the ground.

“I found her in the woods.I couldn't leave her"

A clear sentence.

Short and concise.

But also a big lie.

He could have left me to die, he didn't have to take me with him and jeopardize the safety of their safe place.

Another spiral of smoke rose above his head.

From my position I could hear the crackle of tobacco consumed by the flame.

Daryl's attention was totally focused on the man in uniform.

Another useful detail for me.

He's the leader here, I thought.

I remember observing his figure, half hidden by the man in front of me, for endless minutes.

I could hear the gears turning at lightning speed in his head as he pondered what to do with me.

After another deep exchange of glances between Daryl and the cop, the latter moved to the side, kneeling in front of me and bringing his eyes up to mine, studying me for a few more seconds, as if I were a fucking animal in the zoo.

I had some difficulty keeping myself from snorting and rolling my eyes.

All that was left was for him to throw peanuts at me.

The cop ran his hand over his face, rubbing his tired and exhausted features and then finally I heard his voice for the first time.

“I'm Rick Grimes.Who are you?"

“I'm Summer Davis” I stammered uncertainly, using my mother's last name as information.

I had already abandoned my father's surname a long time ago, no longer using it helped me overcome his betrayal.

I saw him nod just once as if he was satisfied with my answer.

"You are alone?Do you have people looking for you?”

Now to anyone this might seem like a simple question.

But not for me.

Not for me.

Was I alone?Yes.

Was someone looking for me? Probably.

Would I have told him?Hell no.

Looking at the men in front of me I knew immediately that I didn't care what they did with me in the end.

The only thing that mattered was that I would never allow their path to intertwine with that of him and his men.

After all, they seemed really good people.

Except for crazy eyes, he's definitely a disturbed son of a bitch.

So I did the thing that came most naturally to me.

Lie.

After all, I had been lying to him for months now.

I also became quite good at it.

I cleared my thirsty throat and I straightened my back.

The first rule for lying is to show confidence when speaking and look your interlocutor straight in the eyes.

“Yes, I'm alone, I don't have a group or a family.I was just trying to get to Atlanta”

Rick's blue eyes suddenly clouded with sadness.

I remember looking at him with curiosity.

Why that reaction?

“Atlanta is overrun.Nothing exists in that city anymore” Rick replied softly, responding to my questioning look.

“Oh…” was all I could mutter.

The memory flies from my mind.

Atlanta is overrun.

I cannot believe it.

I left Washington and arrived here with the illusion of being able to find something but instead?

In the end I almost lost my life to find myself tied to a pole in a stable.

I move my aching shoulders again and a hiss slips between my parted lips.

Why did Shane have to tighten the rope so much?

Where the hell did he think I would go?

After Rick's little interrogation I was left alone, but kept in sight by all four men, while they conversed among themselves.

About what?

Well I found out soon after.

Rick and Shane left without even looking back, the two were too busy arguing heatedly with each other.

And I'm sure that the topic of their heated discussion was me.

Great.

Antagonizing someone like Shane is never a good thing.

Glenn and Daryl instead escorted me into this stable, leaving me here and telling me to wait.

After a few moments Shane arrived with his damn rope.

Prick.

The stable door creaks open, taking me by surprise and tearing me away from my mental ruminations.

In front of it was a man watching me.

I try to understand who it is but then the timid sound of his voice takes away any doubts.

“Hey”

“Hi Gleen” I smile.

“I'm still here” I add with an ironic laugh.

Where the hell could I have gone anyway?

Slowly he approaches me.

His footsteps echo lightly around us.

I watch him carefully while in the dim light he sits on an old chair in front of me.

In his hand he holds a glass of water which he places near his feet.

“I'm sorry about that” he murmurs ashamedly in a low voice as if it were his fault, while with a wave of his hand he points to the rope that keeps my hands tied behind my back.

I shrug, feigning indifference, trying to hide the grimace of pain caused by my aching shoulders.

“Shane is an idiot.I tried to tell him it wasn't necessary but…you saw him…he can be a real hothead” he admits defeated, taking the baseball cap off his head and fiddling with it.

I smile at his sweetness.

Glenn is a really good guy.

“Don't mind” I try to reassure him.

His gaze wanders for a few seconds and then stops on me.

“I brought you some water and these” he says, taking what appear to be crackers from his pocket.

Food and water.

I think I could cry with gratitude.

I try to settle myself more comfortably even though the hard wooden floor beneath me is leaving indelible marks in my battered flesh.

I straighten my back grunting and cross my legs waiting to receive my dinner.

Glenn gets up from his chair with a little huff and after lighting a small oil lamp hanging right above my head he sits on the floor right in front of me, also with his legs crossed.

I blink several times trying to get my weak eyes used to the dim yellowish light.

The smell of the oil burning in the lamp fills my nostrils.

Glenn grabs the glass and brings it to my lips.

I drink enthusiastically without ever taking my eyes off the boy in front of me.

He seems really happy to be helping another human being.

After drinking half a glass I move my lips away, better to go slowly and avoid throwing up on the poor Glenn.

“Thank you” I whisper while the boy fiddles with the plastic of the cracker packet and after a few moments he brings one to my mouth.

I gladly accept and starting to chew slowly in ecstasy.

It's just a stupid cracker but...damn, it tastes like heaven.

"Are you crying?" he asks me hesitantly.

At first I don't understand what it means but then I realize that some big tears are slipping from my chin, wetting the once light fabric of my worn jeans.

“Sorry” I reply, accompanying my words and tears with a big hysterical laugh.

My reaction seems to scare the young man even more as he looks at me with his big dark eyes.

I shake my head and continue to smile, I smile so much that my cheeks hurt.

"Sorry.I assure you I haven't gone crazy but I haven't eaten in days.Can I have more?” I ask impatiently, looking at his hand which is still holding half a cracker.

Glenn seems to recover and giving me a wonderful smile he hands me the food.

Wrapped in a pleasant silence I eat my meal.

A meal that didn't last long but gave my hungry stomach some respite.

“You should be out there eating a hot meal with everyone else” Glenn murmurs dejectedly, looking at me sorrowfully.

“Nah” I reply with a smile after drinking the last drop of water.

“I'm not one of you”

My words seem to hit him and I see a flash of anger cross his naturally kind eyes.

“You are a human being.You are someone who seems to have been through a lot.You don't deserve this” his words are accompanied by his hands waving and pointing to the place around us.

I look around again, focusing my gaze on the open door of the stable.

From it I can glimpse the sky.

There isn't even a cloud and a blanket of shining stars covers it entirely.

I will never get used to the beauty of the starry sky.

Living my entire life in a city, the only opportunity I had to observe the stars was in the summer, when my parents and I went to spend the holidays at the seaside at my grandparents' house.

I remember that every night I spent whole hours lying on a blanket looking at the stars, drinking in their splendor.

I look back at Glenn and, gathering all the courage I have, I ask him the question that scares me the most.

“Glenn?”

The boy lifts his gaze from his hands to rest it on my face.

Gripped by anxiety I shift my gaze towards my boots unable to look at him.

Afraid of the response I might read on his face.

He certainly understood that there is something that disturbs me but he doesn't push me.

He waits patiently letting me take my time.

“Do you think…do you think they will kill me?”

"What?" he responds agitatedly choking on his own saliva.

“No, oh my God!No!Don't even think that”

“And why shouldn't I think that?” I quickly reply angrily.

“They tied me here, alone, in the dark”

I shudder.

The anger seems to evaporate instantly leaving only a lot of fear in me.

"I...I don't want to hurt you.Please, please Glenn convince them to let me go.I'll disappear.You will never see me again.I swear I won't tell anybody about you or this place.I just want to have a chance.I want to live”

I feel my chest tighten and my breathing becomes short.

I'm hyperventilating.

I feel the panic crawling in my stomach as it slowly rises, wrapping itself in my heart and clouding my mind.

I feel the walls closing around me, suffocating me.

Hot tears flow from my eyes.

“Please Glenn” I repeat letting my head fall forward.

Big sobs shake my chest.

I feel out of control.

So far I had managed to stay calm but interacting with this sweet good soul in front of me shattered my facade.

“Hey, hey Summer.Look at me!"

I feel his hands on my shoulders.

His strong and firm grip forces me to look up.

There is a strong determination in his eyes.

“No one will hurt you.Nobody.Rick would never allow it.I won't allow it” he smiles sweetly at me.

I feel my entire body shaking under his grip.

“You know, no one wants a bolt in his ass” he chuckles immediately afterwards.

The veiled allusion to the archer makes me blush for no reason.

The thought of Daryl being out there fighting to keep me alive makes my heart beat with an emotion other than fear.

Why would he do that?

Why expose himself so much for me?

I am nobody to these people.

And yet…and yet Daryl saved me in the woods first.

Glenn is here, kneeling in front of me, promising to help me.

Suddenly a loud commotion catches our attention causing our heads to snap towards the large stable door.

Outside I can clearly distinguish footsteps and frantic voices.

My body trembles without restraint now.

Even though the warm air of this summer night envelops us I feel a cold that grips my bones in a cruel grip.

Glenn's grip on my shoulders tightens, he looks worried too.

"It's madness.Madness!” a woman's voice shouts.

The footsteps are getting closer and closer.

"Wait!" another voice shouts.

This time I recognize who it belongs to.

Rick.

After a few moments some dark figures stand out against the entrance.

Here we are.

They came here for me.

Without thinking twice I curl into a ball pressing my body against Glenn's, burying my head in his chest.

His skin smells like laundry soap.

I can hear his heart beating furiously.

At first, perhaps due to the surprise at my gesture, his hands detach from my shoulders as if he had been burned but after a few moments, without any further hesitation, his arms tighten around my shoulders, engulfing me in his embrace, trying to give me the protection I seek.

I feel the muscles in my shoulders pulling and burning from the unnatural position I'm in but I don't care.

“What the hell is going on?”

It's the same woman speaking before but I'm afraid.

I can't move.

I don't have the strength to look, I don't want to see.

The agitated voices stop, in the air only the sound of my sobs suffocated by the cotton of Glenn's t-shirt.

“Summer?”

Daryl's voice makes me jump like someone just slapped me across the face.

His tone seems worried.

I don't have the courage to look at him.

I couldn't bear to see his eyes.

I couldn't bear to read his placid resignation for what is about to happen.

After endless moments of silence, some light footsteps approach me and a delicate hand like the wings of a butterfly rests on my head, making me tremble.

“It's okay honey.It's over”

That woman again.

I feel her hand move down my back, towards my tied hands.

I feel her fumbling with the rope, I feel a cold blade graze the tortured flesh of my wrists.

Another shiver shakes me violently.

“Don't worry” Glenn whispers without loosening the grip of his arms wrapped around my figure.

I trust him so I try to stay as still as possible.

“Carol”

“Shut up Shane!She's just a kid.You should be ashamed” the woman hisses in disgust.

Now the voice also has a name.

After a few moments my arms are free.

With aching muscles I move my arms forward and with my hands I cling even harder to Glenn, squeezing his shirt between my fingers and crying even harder.

I don't care that strangers are watching me, that they are judging me.

I do not care.

I'm tired and scared.

Carol's hands continue to caress my back as she softly whispers reassuring words in my ear.

Slowly, Glenn on my left and Carol on my right, support me, helping me to my feet.

I tighten my grip on the boy's t-shirt, burying my head further into his chest as he slides an arm around my waist.

Carol instead wraps her arm around my shoulders and the three of us walk towards the door.

Towards the public who witnessed and is witnessing my pathetic mental breakdown.

The few steps that separate me from the exit seem to expand, becoming miles in my head.

I feel like I'm walking my own personal green mile.

My walk of shame.

I feel tired, empty...as if panic has drained every crumb of who I am.

A few steps from the door Carol slows down until we are forced to stop.

“You should be ashamed.Everyone” she repeats.

“Especially you” she adds after a few seconds.

I risk a glance in the direction of her gaze.

And my eyes meet the archer's contrite ones.

I feel an uncontrollable blush color my cheeks, totally embarrassed I look down again.

Glenn tightens his grip on my body.

“Come on dear” Carol whispers in my ear again.

Now there is no longer any trace of anger in her voice but only an infinite sweetness.

We start walking again and as we finally get out into the open air I feel my heart getting lighter.

The grip that oppressed me until a few minutes ago seems to lighten with each step that takes me further and further away from that place.

"Where do we go?" I croak, sniffing at her and finally lifting my head from my refuge.

I straighten my back, popping several vertebrae.

I can finally give a face to that sweet voice.

Carol has short silvered hair and eyes as blue as the sea, full of sweetness and pain.

She reminds me a bit of my mother.

She smiles at me in a reassuring way, pointing with her hand to a point in front of us.

“Let's go somewhere safe and quiet, okay?Nothing will happen to you, I promise”

With my gaze I follow the direction of her hand and a few meters from us I see an RV.

I look at Glenn and he nods his head reassuringly, inviting me to continue.

Once we reach our destination, Glenn opens the door of the RV and Carol helps me up the steps.

“Now I'll help you get cleaned up.Glenn can you go get a real meal for our new guest?” Carol murmurs softly.

Glenn nods vigorously but before he can leave I quickly go down the steps I just climbed and standing on tiptoe I throw my arms around his neck.

Just like a little while ago in the stable, at first Glenn remains still and surprised by my gesture but then his arms tighten around my waist.

“Thanks Glenn.Thank you so much” I whisper with my cheek pressed against his.

“You have nothing to thank me for Summer”

I quickly break the hug and when we are eye to eye I meet his sweet smile.

Then he turns and digging his hands into the pockets of his jeans he walks away.

I watch him for another couple of seconds until my attention is drawn to a figure in the distance watching me intently.

Motionless in the dark of the night.

Daryl.

“Let's go” Carol whispers, drawing my attention and inviting me to enter the RV again.

Once back, Carol accompanies me to where there is a bed, then indicating it with a wave of her hand and another reassuring smile.

I sit down without saying a word as the woman walks away.

The bed under me is so soft that my brain does nothing but scream at me to lie down, to rest my tired and exhausted limbs but I can't.

I have to stay alert as long as possible.

I have to understand what's happening.

I have to understand what will happen to me.

I don't feel ready to let my guard down yet even if something tells me I can trust these people.

Or at least I can trust Carol.

And Glenn.

And then there would also be Daryl.

I think back to his eyes, in that stable.

I can't decipher his look.

The regret in his eyes, the way he whispered my name when he saw me trembling in Glenn's arms.

What does it mean?

My thoughts are interrupted by Carol's return, in her hands she has a basin full of water.

She sits next to me keeping a certain distance, I'm sure she does it to show me that she doesn't want to invade my space.

With slow and measured gestures she grabs a small towel and dips it in the water after which she begins to clean my face, my neck, my arms, being careful not to rub too much on the irritated skin of my wrists.

“I would like to apologize on behalf of everyone” she mutters after a while.

I look at her confused and remain silent.

She continues to clean me gently.

“You know, we've been through a lot lately, we've lost so many loved ones.We are all very stressed and suspicious”

Her voice cracks.

I am sure that among those people there is also someone very important to her.

And in fact her wet eyes immediately dispel all my doubts.

Carol clears her throat, I can tell from the tone of her voice that she is struggling to hold back tears.

“A few days ago, we encountered a horde of walkers”

Walkers?

Is that what these people call those fucking monsters human flesh eating?

“We hid but something went wrong…my daughter Sophia got scared, she ran away and we lost her.We've been looking for her ever since.This is why Daryl was in the woods when he found you”

The last words full of gratitude for the archer come out in a whisper.

“I'm sorry Carol.Really.I'm sure you'll find her again”

I try to smile reassuringly, placing my hand on hers.

I know my words mean nothing but how can I deny a little comfort to a broken hearted mother?

She smiles back at me, getting out of bed.

“I'll go get you some water” she whispers.

I'm sure she needs a minute alone to regain some composure, talking about her missing little girl must not have been easy for her.

I think about Daryl again and why he was in the woods.

Imagining him looking for that poor little girl confirms what I already thought.

Behind that tough mask there is a big and pure heart, the same heart that I saw in his eyes when he offered me that sip of water.

Before Carol can return there is a knock on the door of the RV.

Will definitely be Glenn with my meal.

I smile at the thought of seeing his friendly face again.

Carol opens the door, mutters something.

I see her nod her head at me.

After a few moments, a man I have never seen before enters.

He has a cloud of white hair and a kind look, he wears a pair of elegantly gray trousers and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

I immediately notice a stethoscope around his neck.

He approaches cautiously, smiling at me reassuringly.

A noise behind him distracts me and I just need to look up to understand what it is or rather who it is.

Behind the kind man is Daryl, his gaze wanders everywhere except on me, next to him Carol smiles at me.

“Nice to meet you, I am Hersel, the owner of this farm”

Hersel speaks confidently catching my attention as he extends his hand towards me.

“You must be Summer”

I nod accepting his handshake, his skin is soft and warm.

Daryl clears his throat.

“I thought about calling Hersel 'cause he's a doc.I thought ya needed one” he mutters under his breath, scratching the back of his neck.

Carol looks at him curiously, raising an eyebrow.

My gaze returns to Daryl's eyes.

My heart does a somersault.

He seems almost embarrassed.

My confused look softens.

His gesture is so kind.

“Technically I'm a vet but I guess we should be satisfied with this nowadays” the man in front of me chuckles.

“I'd like to make sure you're okay, I know they found you unconscious” he smiles at me and when he does so his eyes smile too.

“Thanks but I'm fine now” I try to reassure him but the tremor in my hands and especially in my voice don't seem to convince him.

Behind him, Daryl shifts his weight from one foot to the other, biting the side of his thumb.

Our eyes meet again but this time I can't look away.

His eyes are like deep blue pools that draw me in like a magnet.

Thank goodness he's the first to look away, allowing me to turn my attention back to the sweet doctor in front of me.

Hersel smiles again.

“I would feel more comfortable if I could visit you, I would just like to check your blood pressure and your pulse.Then I promise I'll leave” he chuckles.

“Ok” I whisper in response, sketching a shy smile.

I don't feel like telling him no.

After all, he is welcoming me into his house and it costs me nothing to indulge him.

With another big smile he invites me to lift my shirt.

I'm about to do so but suddenly I remember the archer's presence and I stop embarrassed.

I don't even have time to look up before I see him turn his back on me.

Nice of him to turn around so as not to embarrass me.

After making sure that everything was ok, Hersel recommended me to eat and rest and that he would check me again in the morning.

“Thanks Hersel, thanks for everything”

“You're welcome, Summer” he replies, walking away and leaving me, Carol and Daryl in an awkward silence.

What happens?

Why is it suddenly hot here?

Why does Daryl look at the floor of the RV with such interest while Carol giggles?

I reflexively look down and focus on my hands clasped in my lap.

The silence continues, charging me with a strange anxiety.

I should speak, say something.

I lick my dry, chapped lips but when I open my mouth nothing comes out.

Just a strangled sound.

A sob shakes me and then another one.

Great.

I can't seem able to keep my damn emotions to myself tonight.

“I'm sorry” I murmur between sobs, burying my face in my hands so as to avoid the pitying looks that Carol and Daryl are surely giving me.

I hear some footsteps, then someone sit next to me.

The mattress sinks under the weight of the latter.

“Ya safe now”

His voice immediately stops my tears.

I honestly didn't believe that he would actually come close to console me.

God, he'll think I'm pathetic.

Crying in Glenn or Carol's presence had definitely been easier and less embarrassing.

We both remain silent.

I can't even think of what I could say to him.

After a few minutes Daryl gets up and walks away.

His gesture makes me snap up.

Is he leaving?

But after a few moments I see him return with a steaming plate in his hands.

“Eat”

His is almost an order.

Without hesitation I obey by grabbing the plate he is handing me and he sits down next to me again, this time a little closer.

I grab what looks like a piece of meat between my fingers, hold it to my nose to smell it before taking a bite.

As soon as the meat comes into contact with my taste buds, an embarrassing moan escapes my control.

It's absolutely delicious.

I don't know if it's because I was literally starving but this meat is the best thing I've ever eaten.

Forgetting about the man next to me, and about my good manners, I begin to eat with more ardor, bringing larger and larger pieces of meat to my mouth.

Daryl doesn't say a word the entire time but I can clearly feel his eyes probing my face continuously.

“Mmmh” I murmur at the end of my hearty meal after licking my fingers.

I feel calmer now, more relaxed.

This meal gave me time to reflect and calm down.

So with a big smile on my face I turn to Daryl.

For a moment I remain silent.

I was smiling and he was serious, his lips were a hard, serious line.

"Thank you.It was truly delightful” I thank him trying to convey all my gratitude into my words.

In response I get a grunt and a shrug.

I look back at my now empty plate and find myself once again surrounded by silence.

The smile on my lips is now the shadow of a memory.

Daryl jumps up making me jump.

What?

What happen?

I watch him as he nervously runs along the entire length of the RV a couple of times.

What have I done?

He seems to be upset because of me.

Did I say something I shouldn't?

I get up from the bed taking a couple of steps in his direction but suddenly the archer stops his walk and turns towards me.

I think he didn't expect to find me so close because he takes a sudden step back, hitting his hip on the corner of the small table to his right.

Another grunt, accompanied by a puff of air coming out of his nostrils.

“Daryl…”

“’M sorry” he suddenly grunts, making the words die in my throat.

I frown in confusion at his apology.

Why is he apologizing?

His eyes look in any direction except mine.

“Daryl?” I call him and his eyes focus on his boots.

I wait patiently for him to decide to look at me but when this doesn't happen I take another step in his direction and when I notice that he doesn't step back I take another step.

Now only a few inches separate us.

From here I can smell his skin.

Daryl smells like the woods, he smells like the woods where we met.

It is a strong, pungent but pleasant smell.

He smells like wood, musk and smoke.

An intoxicating smell that enters my head.

Very carefully I lift my arm and then place my hand on his bicep, squeezing it delicately.

As soon as my hand comes into contact with his warm skin a discharge seems to pass through my skin, my muscles, my bones.

Straight into my soul.

It's like I've been hit with a teaser.

Pure electricity.

His eyes dart first onto his arm where my hand is and then into my eyes.

And the emotion I read in it destabilizes me.

Panic.

This big, thick, muscular man with a menacing look is totally panicking just because I'm touching him.

His eyes are wide open.

I don't want to make him uncomfortable so I remove my hand from his body and take a step back.

“Why are you apologizing?” I ask in a small voice still shocked by the sensation I just felt.

Sensation that I can't explain and to which I don't even want to give a name.

His eyes are still fixed on me, a few locks shadowing them.

I have to use all my willpower not to bring my fingers to his face and move those locks away.

I dig my nails into my palms, the pain caused helps me concentrate.

When I think he won't answer me anymore I take another step back and turn my back on him and go back to sitting on the bed.

I rest my back against the wall of the RV, stretching my legs out in front of me, trying to relax my sore muscles.

The silence around me makes me understand that he left me alone.

Fantastic.

I close my eyes trying to understand what happened.

“I shouldn't have let Rick and Shane treat ya like that”

Jesus.

I jump, putting a hand to my chest to try to contain the pounding of my heart.

“Damn” I mutter through gritted teeth, my eyes wide with panic.

Daryl lifts one corner of his lips in what looks like the ghost of a smile although in the dim light of the RV it could also look like a grimace.

“'M sorry.I didn't mean to scare ya" Daryl apologizes, biting his lower lip slightly.

I shake my head as if telling him not to worry.

I cross my arms over my chest, softening my gaze at the image of a man so strong, with a dominant aura, so absolutely incapable of managing his own feelings.

“That's ok.It's not your fault.You…you have already done so much for me Daryl that a whole lifetime wouldn't be enough to thank you” I stammer.

His gaze wanders nervously from one point of the RV to another.

Ok.

Daryl isn't even comfortable with compliments.

I leave the bed again followed by the protest of my aching muscles and cautiously I approach him again but this time I remain at a safe distance.

I don't want to invade his personal space but I need to make him understand how grateful I am to him.

“If it wasn't for you I'd be walker food right now”

Daryl snorts in response.

“Yeah…sure” he grumbles without saying anything else.

I roll my eyes even though he can't see me.

This man can be truly unnerving.

His vocabulary is limited to snorts and grunts, what the hell!

In exasperation I watch him as he crosses his arms over his chest, his firm, toned muscles contracting elegantly, his tanned skin glistening under the moonlight streaming in through the windows.

In the silence peppered by our breaths I surrender to the thought that perhaps I will never be able to understand this man.

I'm too tired and anything he does or says only adds to my frustration so I do the only thing I think is wise at the moment.

I head towards the RV exit.

“Night Daryl” I murmur passing by him avoiding any visual or physical contact.

As soon as I find myself outside, I breathe deeply, raising my face towards the sky.

Above my head millions of beautiful stars shine set in a dark velvet blanket while the smell of grass tickles my nose.

Within a few moments I regain a bit of serenity...serenity which is interrupted after a few seconds by the door of the RV being slammed forcefully.

Daryl makes no sign of leaving, remaining behind me.

I slowly turn around determined to face him.

His eyes seem full of anger.

It's my fault?

Is all that anger for me?

Maybe my presence is causing trouble to him with his group.

With Shane.

“What's wrong with you?” I snort without being able to contain myself.

His mood swings make me dizzy.

First he seems worried about me.

He brings me food, calls a doctor and then…then he treats me like I'm a disease.

Like I'm one of those fucking biters.

I feel like I've reached the limit of my kindness for today.

Now that's enough.

I had a gun pointed in my face.

A crossbow.

I let myself be dragged.

Interrogated.

Tied up.

I let myself be treated like a criminal even though I didn't do anything.

Nothing.

The banks are breaking and the words are starting to flow like a raging river giving vent to all my frustration.

“Why do I get the impression that you're regretting having brought me to safety from that damned woods?Well know that if it bothers you it's not my problem, I wasn't the one who asked you!You could have just let me die and come back here to mind your own business on this nice farm safe from the walkers with your stupid water and your stupid food” I spit the words out angrily.

I feel the blood boiling in my veins.

Something in my words seems to set off an alarm in the archer's head.

He storms down the steps of the RV, getting dangerously close, his every step sounding like an imminent threat.

His massive body towers over me as his cruel gaze pins my feet to the ground.

He remains to observe me with a menacing expression for a few moments, his dilated nostrils quivering with anger.

If a look could kill right now I'd be six feet under.

“Is this what ya think?” he hisses.

His posture is rigid, his arms at his sides with fists clenched.

White knuckles seem to want to pop out of his skin.

Honestly?

Yes that's what I think.

I have the impression that once the adrenaline of the moment has passed he is realizing that perhaps it would have been better to let me die.

This thought hurts me.

And I don't understand why...

After all, who am I?

And in the end he could be right because even if I personally am not a danger, the people who are looking for me are.

My life is certainly not worth more than those of these people.

I would just like a moment's respite.

Nothing more.

“That's what I see” I murmur dejectedly.

My eyes fill with tears and I don't even try to hide them this time.

My heartbeat is deafening in my ears.

Daryl looks at me with even more disgust, clenching his fists even tighter as if he's holding himself back from hitting me.

Would he really be able to do that?

This Daryl scares me.

The archer takes a further step towards me invading my personal space.

“If ya looking for consolation sunshine ya have chosen the wrong man.Go cry to Glenn, it doesn't work with me” he taunts me viciously and then walks away without even sparing me a glance.

I turn to watch him as he walks away, stomping his boots angrily on the grass.

I'm totally shocked.

What the hell just happened?

He's the one who was acting strange to me.

He started.

I was kind, I tried to reason with him, I respected his space.

What did he give me in return?

Only silences.

Threats.

What the hell was I supposed to do?

I put my hands on my hips, huffing loudly.

My eyes are still on him as he walks away and enters a tent not far from the RV.

“Don't worry, you'll get used to him.He may seem grumpy but deep down he's a good guy”

I jump with fear.

God!

Tonight everyone is having fun testing the resistance of my heart.

Another scare like this and I don't know if I'll see the dawn rise tomorrow.

I spin around looking for the person who spoke but strangely I don't see anyone.

“Hey!I'm here”

The man chuckles and following the sound of his voice I look up.

On the roof of the RV there is a man, sitting in an old chair with a rifle in his lap.

He wears a bucket hat and has an unkempt beard.

How long has he been up there?

How much did he hear?

I look at him for a couple of seconds in total embarrassment.

Nothing happened between me and Daryl but the fact that this man may have misunderstood our attitude makes me blush to the tips of my hair.

Thank goodness it's dark and I don't think he can notice it from up there.

“Anyway, I'm Dale.If you're looking for Carol, she went that way” and with his finger he points to a small bonfire a few meters from me where Carol and other women are chatting.

“Thank you” I murmur under my breath, glancing one last time at Daryl's tent and then walking briskly towards Carol.

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Taglist

🔥 Masterlist 🔥

@deansapplepie

[subwaysurf45]

Love You to the Moon and Back

summary: Bucky notices you’re feeling down after a bad injury, he does his best to help.

words:  3817

warning: depressive episode, doctors, mainly fluff!

pairing: Bucky x Reader 

Masterlist!

Bucky could tell you were getting bad again. 

And it hurt him to see you like this but it always happened after a big mission, your job was traumatizing and it took a toll on all of you. Bucky knew he had his days but he also knew when you finally let yourself slip it was really bad. 

You were a very headstrong person, you didn’t like letting people see your weaknesses or just you being hurt in general. So it sucked when you had broken your shin and witnessed a school of kids get blown up by a bomb, maybe sucked is an understatement but it was what you always said. 

You had pretended to be a teacher because there was supposed to be a hit on most teachers at a private school, so when the school blew up before everyone was out of the building- including you -it left the memories very crystal clear. There was no way of saving everyone so you saved yourself, and the feeling of selfishness had never been more apparent than right now. You were lying in bed with a cast on your left leg, your left leg was on top of the duvet while the other leg was under. 

A tank top and shorts was all you wore even though you were cold. A pillow was placed between your legs down by your shins to keep the injured one elevated, Bucky had stuck it there the last time he came in to check on you. 

Speaking of Bucky, he walked into your shared room in the compound. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bucky cooed as he gently opened and closed the door without making any sound, you had become hyper-aware to sound and light so a loud noise or a flash of a camera could send you into a state of hysterics. Bucky sat himself at the edge of the bed at around your midsection, you were lying in the middle and facing him. You barely said hello, all you could muster was a groan that had the same rhythm as the word hello. “How’s my girl doing?” Bucky rubbed your thigh very carefully. 

It was so obviously a rhetorical question, you were absolutely shit and he knew it. You both just stared at each other and Bucky seemed to get the message, he nodded and looked down. The room was so dark from the lights being off and the curtains being pulled you barely registered that Bucky had a plate of cheese, apple slices, and crackers. Bucky saw you turn your nose up and he knew you would, you had been like this for what felt like weeks. 

“You have your two appointments today, you wanna use the crutches or the wheelchair?” Bucky asked as he gently caressed your thigh, a little hum came after a few sections to clarify this wasn’t rhetorical. 

“I don’t know,” you mumbled into your pillow. 

“Okay…” Bucky held onto the last syllable, he glanced over to the wheelchair and crutches. “How about you have a little snack and then when you got food- and I’ll get water -you can make your choice. You also know you can switch and I’ll be glad to grab it for you, alright?” he did a few quick pats on your thigh before setting the plate down on the bedside table, he grunted as he stood up and stuck his arms slowly beneath you. All Bucky did was sit you upright to eat, you had gotten better at eating and now didn’t need motivation to eat but just a little push at the beginning to keep going after the first bite. Bucky also found if he ate a few pieces from the plate you’d be more inclined to eat the rest. 

“Thanks,” your voice was low and barely audible. 

“No need, pretty lady,” Bucky got right beside you and grabbed the plate, he placed it between you and let you choose the first piece. “So, you’re at the doctor at two and then Doc at three-ten, do you wanna nap between for a little or for a while after?” he just took a cracker and plopped it into his mouth. 

“No, no nap between, I wanna sit outside Doc’s office like before to make sure I’m not late.” You mumbled and stacked a piece of cheese on an apple slice. Doc was your therapist that was assigned to you a little while before your injury, Bucky wasn’t the only one who got nightmares and manic episodes; you probably got them more. Bucky knew he couldn’t go into your therapy meeting, he could physically go in but it went against his morals, this was your time to be alone and completely vulnerable to a human that you only see one or twice a week, he didn’t want you to sugar coat anything just because he wa sitting there. 

Bucky nodded and hummed before pulling the notebook out of the bedside table’s drawer, your combat backpack which you used for everything between missions and a picnic in the park was curled over itself in the corner of your room. Bucky picked it up and headed back to bed to let it rest there as he packed. He did this when you weren’t injured, Bucky had sadly realized your memory was a little shot from the amount of bootleg brainwashing and head injuries. You’d constantly forget about appointments or missions, or even the date. 

“Baby, I told you, your birthday is today, that’s why I got flowers.” Bucky said and pointed to the counter with the bright flowers on it. 

“No…” you rubbed the front of your head. “My birthday isn’t today, I forget the day- but it’s not today, I swear.” 

He slid in your journal that you used to write down lists and memories, you had used a guitar pick as your bookmark even though you can’t play anymore. Sometimes when you’d show up to a therapy session you’d forget what you wanted to say, it hurt him when he’d walk you there and you’d be saying the list of things under your breath with your eyes closed. Nightmare, mom, picking my nails, ankle, nightmare, sand, flowers. 

“We gotta go soon, anyways, wanna get ready for the day?” Bucky softly asked, there was no nice way of telling your loved one they needed to shower. 

“Sure,” you looked down at the plate and grabbed the last of it before getting up, the apple and cheese was just curled in the palm of your hand, as you walked over you shoved it all into your mouth because you knew you had to shower and you didn’t like soggy cheese. 

“I’ll keep packing your bag, and I’ll fill a water bottle for you.” Bucky had been your human crutch as you walked to the bathroom, you had an itch down in your cast that was bugging you. 

Tony had wanted to add tech to the shower to help you stand because putting pressure on your left leg hurt after three minutes and seven seconds- not that you were timing to see how long you could go without collapsing. You had said no to tech and just asked for a bar, Bucky even thought it would be cool but it was all up to you. 

Bucky helped you slip out of your clothes before leaving you be, he knew he would have to check on you periodically because you were too stubborn to ask for help if you had fallen or couldn’t get in the shower. You gripped onto the metal bar and helped yourself slip in, you turned the water on right away. 

You liked warm, long showers. You just let the water hit your skin as you stood in front of the shower head, the water pressure was high so you let the bullets hit your face when your eyes were closed. Your hair got wet as you stood there, you reached for the bottle of shampoo and expected it to be where it always was. The was getting into your eyes and when you squinted to see where the bottle was everything was double, as you reached for the bottle you had actually reached for the fake double and knocked the bottle off the ledge. A loud thump rang through the bathroom and it sounded like a bomb. 

There was one second of silence before you heard scrambling from outside the bathroom door, all at once you could see the door swing open by its shadow through the curtain. The curtain was pulled back so hard a couple of ringlets holding it up were ripped off. 

“Baby?” Bucky yelled before he registered you were standing upright. “What?” he breathed heavily, he was completely expecting you to be passed out on the floor with a cracked skull. 

“Shampoo bottle,” you said meekly. 

“Oh, thank god…” Bucky sighed to himself as he reached down to pick it up. “Are you hurt at all, did you fall?” He placed the bottle back on the ledge which made him reach across your naked body, on his way back his hand touched your shoulder then went to cup your cheek and move your head to look at him. 

“I’m all good, babe.” You smiled, an exhausting smile. 

“Alright, back-is-packed, finish up and I'll help you over to physio, alright?” Bucky closed the curtain to give privacy but waited for a verbal answer. 

“Perfect, thank you.” You grabbed the bottle again, your heart ached for him to be in the shower with you, it was something you did all the time before you were injured. 

“Don’t thank me, pretty lady.” Bucky reached for the door and opened it, before he could walk out, your voice quietly called his name, he could barely hear it over the water in the shower. “Yes?” he replied with the same softness. 

“Stay here with me, please.” the ‘please’ came after a beat, and extra plea. 

“Always,” Bucky sat on the toilet seat and gave the company you needed as you tried to stick your finger down your cast to itch that one spot on your leg. 

*****

Soon enough you were sat in the physio room, Bucky was off to the side with paper work in his lap and a binder in your backpack he packed for you. You liked the moral support when you were here because you never really had the best experience with doctors, Bucky would act like he wasn’t even there. That was a good thing, he did need to be the hovering boyfriend all the time because that can get tiring for both parties. He’d look up and listen to the doctor near the end, Bucky would write down the exercises and when to do them so he could gently remind you later. 

“Alright, you’re gonna get a new cast next week,” the doctor smiled at you, when you didn’t pick up on the excitement the doctor’s smile faded. “That means three quarters done!” Bucky had looked up and smiled, even clapped a couple times. 

“Then I have to learn how to walk again,” that was an exaggeration but it didn’t feel like one. 

The doctor gave a knowing look, “why do I feel like you’re already walking without the crutches?” You didn’t say anything because it was true. 

Your leg was examined and x-rayed, Bucky held onto your necklace as you went in. Your mind faded in and out as the doctor spewed ‘doctor stuff’ at you, you just didn’t have the care to listen; but Bucky did. He’s the type of guy to take notes and research later. 

Bucky would look over and see you looking at the floor, not even paying attention. He knew he couldn't get mad at you, you both dealt with injury very similarly. But something about seeing you shut down entirely made his heart ache, he wanted to reach out and lift the corners of your lips up into a smile because they seemed like they were being weighed down, he couldn’t remember the last time you smiled and real smile. He hadn’t been going on mission to keep you company, but now he knew his most important mission.

He walked you over to your therapy session that was still in the building, your Doc would come to the Avenger tower. He’d walk you right to the door of some random debrief room and kiss you goodbye. Bucky would hold your shoulders and gently rub your arms to hype you up before going in, he gave his little speech and said the same thing after. 

“You know I love you, and I know it’s hard.” he’d then kiss your cheeks and forehead. “I’ll be right here when you’re done, don’t even sweat it, pretty lady.” He then wouldn’t leave until the door closed and he heard muffled voices. 

The tower was right in the heart of the city, everything he needed was right there and a walking distance away. He slipped on a long sleeve and his gloves, he knew you took the backpack but you also had reusable bags, he took a few and headed out into the summer heat, it wasn’t humid today which was great but it wasn’t cold either. The tote bag was slung over his shoulder, all that was in it right now as a list. 

flowers 

chocolate

card

stuffed animal 

To call Bucky a romantic would seem weird to someone who only knew of him from the news or a museum, you knew him as a total hopeless romantic. Even in the 40’s, Bucky was the type of person to keep their walls up until he really got to know and trust you. It would normally be one little thing that would allow him to truly be himself around someone, he let his guard down that day you were walking to the restaurant he made a reservation at, Bucky placed himself so that arm or hand you’d hold would be his right but when you caught on you walk around him and looped both arms around his left, metal arm. After that, he was goner. 

He’d leave little sticky notes everywhere, a blue square paper in the coffee mug that read: ‘make sure you only drink one cup!’ or another on your shampoo bottle: ‘you look great naked ;)’. Bucky knew the little things mattered to you and vice versa, he knew that grand gestures didn’t mean anything without a little kiss that came before. 

The flower shop smelt great, Bucky didn’t know much about plants but he knew which ones you’d like. He was thinking of putting one on each bedside so whenever you’re lying in bed- which was a lot -you could look at some pretty flowers. They were a nice shade of purple and the stems were not too long, Bucky bought them and put them gently in his tote bag before heading over two stores to the grocery store you always shop at.

He was envyus of your clean eating, you’d eat what you want but you’d shop at fermer’s markets and organic stores. Bucky didn’t know it made a difference. He went to the frozen section and found chocolate covered strawberries. Bucky picked up a little pack of eight and headed to the front. There were also flowers there but they didn’t look nearly as nice. All he wanted was a very simple cute card with a blank inside, they were easy to find. It was cream coloured with a little sketch of a fuzzy, brown teddy bear holding a yellow balloon. All it said in dainty cursive at the top was: “look at you go!” Bucky knew this was perfect. Near the cards were little toys and stuffed animals. He found a bear that looked eerily similar to the one on the card but without the balloon. 

As he walked into the Avenger’s tower the bag was full and he had enough time to spare to set things up. Bucky headed to the rooms and made the bed, he changed the sheets as well because he knew you liked them when they were crisp. The teddy sat right in the middle with the card next to it. Bucky had written a little note that covered the entire right side of the card. He got a bowl from the kitchen and filled it with ice, he also found that white wine you liked and stuck it on there with the strawberries just to keep them cool but not melted. 

Bucky glanced at his watch and felt almost giddy as he realized it was time to head over to the conference room, he had to work on not giving it away when he’d first see you with his wide smile. The walk to the room was quick because of how fast Bucky was walking, he turned the corners sharp and almost jogged down the hall down the meeting rooms. He only stood there for about three seconds before the door slowly opened, Doc had opened the door and helped you out. Bucky’s smile turned into complete worry when you walked out holding a tissue to your nose, your eyes were red and puffy. Bucky also noticed that your fingernails were red and bleeding, that was one habit you were currently trying to break. 

“What’s going on?” Bucky asked in quiet disbelief, his eyebrows almost touching. 

Doc gave a curt nod, “we talked about a lot of things,” her answers were always so vague. 

You sniffled and waited for Doc to leave down the hall, Bucky was still looking at you. His hands held your shoulders and gently massaged the answer out of you. 

“It was a good cry, I needed that.” you sighed from exhaustion. 

A little piece of Bucky’s heart broke, if you needed to have a good cry then you could have told him, he would’ve listened. Bucky started to go back and see where it went wrong, if he was too overbearing and if this whole afternoon he had planned was created at a very wrong time. He wanted to ask what he did wrong but what came out was different. “Well that’s good to hear, I know Doc is good at that- helping you out.” His words were true but something about the delivery made it seem uneasy. 

“I just-” you looked to the ceiling and hoped to find the words you needed written there. “I like flushing it all out to her because I won’t see her for a week and I don’t need to keep up with what I’m feeling. I always cry to you but Doc is just really good at explaining how I feel, you’re there to validate it and make me feel soothed.” You held his left hand as you both walked down the hallway. “I feel lighter, like, I feel better.”

“That’s always good, sweetheart,” Bucky made sure you were putting weight on him because you didn’t bring your crutches but you really should have. “I have a little treat for you,” He turned to face you when you both stood at his door, Bucky kept his hand on the door handle. “I know it’s been a rough few weeks but I hope you know I love you all the same, and all I see is my strong, beautiful girlfriend.” Bucky saw your confused face, as he opened the door to reveal a dim lit room with flowers, wine and a teddy your eye welled up with tears again. 

You gasped and put your hands on your chest, “for me?” your voice shook as you walked in, you peered into the ice bucket to see your favourite wine and some food as well as a card beside the ice bucket, under the teddy. Tears flowed down your face as the feeling of being overwhelmed washed over you, you could barely string a sentence together. A hand waved the gifts all away, “too much,” was all you could muster. 

“No, baby,” Bucky smiled, he walked over and pulled you into a hug. “Nothing will ever be too much for you.”

He let you cry in his chest for a very long time, you both ended up sitting on the edge of the bed as he stroked all the way up your back. His hand would bunch up your hair as he went up to your neck. His lips were right at your ear, all he whispered were sweet nothings and a calming ‘shh’ once and a while. When you had a little composure Bucky reached for the card, as you read it your lips trembled even more. A hand stayed glued to your heart as your body warmed at loving words, you could barely read it with blurry vision from the tears but it still seemed crystal clear. Your finger traced over the signature: ‘love you to the moon and back, Bucky’. And you crumbled again, your forehead hit his chest as you cried away all the pent up emotion you thought you flushed out at your therapy session. 

With all the crying you were so tired, Bucky had thrown on a movie you two could watch while enjoying your strawberries and wine. You only had two and half a cup before you were snoring on Bucky’s shoulder, he tried to nudge you a couple times but nothing worked at all. He watched the movie on his own and saved the last two strawberries for you in the morning. You didn’t even wake up at him getting up and leaving the room. When he came back he got you out of your day clothes and into something comfy. 

*****

You woke up to the sun hitting your back, when your eyes opened they focused on the flowers and a smile graced your face. It was the first time in a long time since you smiled with your eyes, a little giggle even slipped out. 

At that sound Bucky walked out of the bathroom, “well there she is,” he smiled wide. 

“What does that mean?” you wiped the drool from the side of your mouth, “I had a nap, a really good one, too.” You seemed to be bragging. 

“A nap? Baby, it’s eight.” Bucky raised his eyebrows. 

“Ya, I fell asleep at about five so I had a three hour nap, no biggie.” You rolled on your back and stretched out, your gaze moved back to Bucky when you heard a giggle, “what?” you laughed back. 

“Eight in the morning, the next day. Your three hour nap was actually a well deserved fifteen hour hibernation.” Bucky joined you on the bed. 

“That’s why I feel so good,” you sighed, you looked over to Bucky and swatted his chest at his little smirk. “Don’t think like that.” 

“I bet I can make you feel just as good-”

You cut him off with a kiss.

[haztory]

hi mcdonald’s can i get uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nanami + “nice tits”

“Nice tits.” from my writing event that ends today! 

 warnings: adult language and sexual themes, but that’s about it!

a/n: 3k words all for sanju that probably strays from the prompts but its fine bc i love you biiiiitch. thanks to everyone that requested a prompt! they will be out momentarily!!

nanami kento x gn!reader

There’s a universal understanding amongst the adults in the general realm of well-formed maturity and a sense of responsibility that there is no situation to ever exist in which listening to Gojo Satoru’s advice is a viable option. 

Much less any advice about love.

“You know,” His voice sings to your left, interrupting the tranquil silence of your office by his surprise warping, “If you needed help in satisfying your urges, you only had to ask. Looking at porn during school hours is a bit of a cry for help, (Y/N).”

“Go away, Gojo.” You reply, hardly perturbed at his unannounced visit and continuing the matter at hand. Your index finger continues its motions, pushing the wheel of the mouse downwards and studying the plethora of Google Search images the float past your eyes on your computer monitor.

Gojo leans his elbow on your desk, perching himself on the left side of your body, “Hey, I don’t judge! I’ve done it once or twice myself. I just always pictured you as more of an ass-person.”

Landing on an appropriate image for your task you click it, enlarging it on your screen. Gojo whistles.

“Now that’s just obscene, isn’t it?”

A finger enters your line of sight, pointing itself obnoxiously at the screen, specifically at the rather large pectoral belonging to that of a male model. An image that is necessary for your study of a new cursed technique that you witnessed on your last excursion with Nobara, and not at all the focus of sexual release as Gojo might insist. Even if they are rather admirable in their size. 

You would rather die before ever telling him that, though.

“They should really put a warning on those honkers—”

“Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” You ask bluntly, printing the image and retrieving it from the printer tray beside you.

“I just wanted to see what my second favorite teacher was doing, but never did I think I would catch you in the act of making a shrine to tits, so—”

You roll your head to the left, meeting Gojo’s shit-eating grin with a deadpan stare. With a sigh, you shake your head, “I’m studying.”

Even beneath the blindfold, you can see the waggle in his brows as he props his head on the bent elbow. “Oh suuure.”

Huffing impatiently, you swivel your desk chair to face him, placing a singular finger on his chest to push him back from your immediate space. He only continues to grin in his usual unabashed manner, as though he’s caught you red-handed. It makes you roll your eyes once more.

 You didn’t need to explain yourself; it wasn’t like you were doing anything immoral. Sure, staring at a number of pectoral muscles might seem inappropriate to the passing eye, but it was easily explainable. 

But as it always is with Gojo, he manages to rub that small part of you that just has to fight back. Fuckin’ prick. “We came across a cursed technique two days ago that targeted the chest. It caused—”

Gojo waves his hand in your face, “Seismic tremors in the pectoral muscles that affected a cursed energy point, yeah, yeah. Nobara told me all about it.”

“If you knew what I was doing why are you making me sound like such a creep?!” You exclaim, kicking his chest with the heel of your shoe. He catches your foot with a laugh, dropping it and holding his index finger upward.

“Because it’s fun to tease you.”

Huffing, you turn back to your monitor and point at the door, “Leave.”

“Oh, come onnn,” He warps in front of your computer, leaning himself over the top of the screen, “I’ve brought you a little gift of knowledge to help your studying.”

Even as he desperately tries to insert his gangly arms into your line of vision, you continue typing into the search bar. Some variations of “pectoral”, “muscles”, and “large men”. For research purposes, of course.

“Oh yeah?” You ask noncommittally, knowing full well the manner in which Gojo dangles his plots of mischief disguised as help, “And what would that be?”

Smiling largely once more, he lets out a giggle, “The larger the muscle, the more potent the attack on the cursed energy.”

Sparing him a quick glance, you mumble, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

“No, but it does take a genius to figure out how to reverse the effects.”

He stops the statement there; grin audible in his words. After having spent years in the presence of the obnoxious Gojo Satoru, you already know there’s an ulterior motive to his words, something that is going to bite you in the ass rather aggressively.

And as much as you want to avoid being in the line of fire, especially the one directed by him, you’re simultaneously dying to know where this is going.

You hesitate to ask, but it comes out. Dripping in all of its cautiousness. “And?”

“And it also takes a willing participant to study.” His smile, in all impossibility, became even wider.

“I’m still not getting the picture.”

“A participant with rather large pectoral muscles.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Someone who would willingly participate for the sake of education.”

Of all the people to have figured out about your (not so) little crush on a fellow sorcerer, it had to be the world’s largest idiot and nuisance. You had to end this, now. Before he does something so irrevocably stupid— 

“Shall we go ask Nanami?”

And that’s how you find yourself flushed with absolute mortification, gripping your clipboard with tight knuckles against your chest, wondering how you ever managed to forget the utmost important rule when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

Never listen to him, especially on the matter of love. 

Maybe that’s indicative of the state of your crush as a whole, something you should probably pay more attention to, seeing as the minute Nanami Kento was mentioned, you’ve forgotten the extent of logic and reason and followed the whims of Gojo without hesitation. 

It’s problematic, horrifying, and ultimately a monumental issue at the moment considering your mouth is as dry as a desert and your brain absolute mush, rendering you completely unable to formulate any words.

“Wow, Nanami,” Gojo shamelessly says, one hand shoved in his pocket as he stands beside your frozen figure, “Nice tits.”

Nanami hums unenthusiastically, unbuttoning the last button on his blue shirt and elegantly removing it from his large, muscular frame. Folding it neatly on the expanse of the couch beside him, he turns his stoic gaze back to you, hardly even concerned about his half-nakedness. 

Whereas you felt yourself almost drooling at the revealed expanse of firm muscles peppered with sparse hair. The fact that it was that easy to get to see this, to almost be able to touch it— 

Maybe listening to Gojo isn’t a bad idea after all.

“Shall we begin?” Nanami asks, pulling his glasses off of his face with his (large) hands and folding them on top of his shirt. A strand of blond falls onto the front of his face and his gaze trails from the impassive stare at Gojo, to you. 

And by all that is sweet and holy you swear that you’ve ascended to an ethereal plane and before you sits an angel waiting to take you to the pearly gates. No longer stares a man unamused at the teasing of the white-headed idiot beside you, but instead a celestial being with a body made of pure stone and dare you say, looking at you with a tenderness in his gaze that was absent only a moment before.

An elbow digs into your side, pulling you rather dramatically out of your stupor and towards the smug grin of the man beside you. 

“Well?” Gojo asks, “If you’re not going to touch him, I will.”

“Thank you, Gojo, but I can take it from here,” You all but hiss, pushing him once more away from your body, accompanying the action with a pointed glare. Beginning a backward trek towards the door, he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Opening the door and stepping out of it, he halts, turning his head to look over his shoulder and says, voice coated in that familiar tone of teasing, “Remember to use condoms, lovebirds!”

He shuts the door quickly, hardly giving you a chance to spear your ire at his retreating figure, but you have half a mind to chase him down the hall when you hear his echoing laughter ring out. 

An awkward silence settles between you and the man of your horrid fascination that not even an uncomfortable laugh can ease. Clearing your throat and trying to remember your sense of professionalism, you straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath, facing the handsome man with a confidence that was growing incredibly difficult to face. 

“I’m going to touch you. For research. Your chest, specifically.”

In a move you’ve never quite seen before, Nanami sheds that formidable air of quiet stoicism and lets a small smile grace the features of his face. It gently pushes against the corners of his mouth and his bare shoulders move the slightest bit with the exhalation of his amused breath. 

“For the tremors in the pectoralis.” He says, leaning his body to rest against the backing of the couch, straightening his legs wearing their usual tan slacks to rest naturally in the position and hands folding in his lap. 

You gulp. “Y-yes.”

“I read your report.”

“You did?”

“I always do,” With his eyes still trained upon yours you can see them widen a bit at the realization of what he’s said as if that were an intimate detail he hadn’t meant to make you aware of. He quickly brings his fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat, “You are one of the few sorcerers here that fill them out correctly. I learn a great deal from your detailing. It’s… very helpful. You’re very thorough.”

Blinking repeatedly, you only nod at the compliment. Despite wanting to combust internally at the growing flames that burn inside of you, you take a step forward. Then another until, in an unforeseen reversal of circumstances, you’re towering over the man of great strength and respect. The man you’ve admired for the longest time.

The man that continues to stare at you with a softness you’ve never seen him reveal before. 

You can see the spattering of freckles that have intricately placed themselves over his broad shoulders resembling that of an artistic constellation and the delicious protruding of his biceps, great in mass yet telling of his of strength as your try to conservatively trail your eyes over his torso.

He’s beautiful, incredibly so. Baring himself to you in this way only affirms that.

 “Thank you,” you breathe out, and it’s more intimate than you intended it to be, but truthfully, it’s as fitting a phrase as it can be considering the proximity and the intensity behind his stare.

It’s all you can give him without crumbling at his feet. Placing your fingertips against his shoulder, you gently push him back, silently instructing him to lay on the couch. He follows suit like the dutiful sorcerer he is.

“I’ll just be examining the way in which your cursed energy extends from your chest. It shouldn’t hurt, but if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

He hums once more from his supine position on the couch. Despite being much larger than the couch allows, he hardly looks uncomfortable. Only watches the way in which you press your fingers into his chest, pushing into his muscle and slowly massaging your finger in a circle. You circle around the left side, trailing around the outer edge of the muscle and above the rib cage, stopping and pressing rather firmly when you feel a surge in an energy presence beneath the skin. Almost on the center of his chest.

You snort a quiet laugh when you realize where it is.

“Should I be worried?” His deep timbre vibrates your indented fingers drawing your focus to his interested stare. He looks relaxed, the usual crease between his brow hardly recognizable. A stark refute to the question he posed.

You quickly shake your head, smiling growing wryer, “No, not at all. I just… think it’s funny that your energy presence is strongest where your heart is.”

Nanami quirks an eyebrow, “Isn’t that the same for everyone?”

“Would it be much of a surprise if I told you Gojo’s comes from his mouth?”

Nanami rolls his head, a breathless laugh exhaling as he stares at the ceiling. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“Everyone has a different point from which their energy roots itself. Each one gives a different feeling of sorts. It doesn’t really mean much in terms of power and technique, but it is noticeable. You have an overwhelming presence as is, I just…” Your shoulders drop with a sigh, one stemming desperately from loving admiration and instead try to disguise as just an exhalation, “…never realized it came from there. Kind of fitting if you ask me.”

His brows furrow in contemplation, unsure if whether he could accept the statement. Unsure of whether it was a fitting examination or compliment for him. He must deem it something insignificant of his ponderance because he quickly moves on.

“And yours?” He asks, alight with curiosity, “Where does yours come from?”

You hum, grateful to finally shed the last remnants of awkwardness and engage in the usual friendly conversation you tend to have with him. The brief discussions that always prod a little too close for friendly discovery, but never breach the line of professional respect. That self-imposed limitation that you desperately wish he’ll cross, that this conversation is once again coming toward.

“Take a guess.” Allowing that lilting tease to infiltrate your words, you watch as Nanami adjusts himself on the couch. Bracing his arms against the cushion, he pushes himself into a sitting position and crosses his arms. Trailing his eyes over your seated body next to him, he leaves a burning trail in his wake.

He fixates on your face for a second and your breath hitches, before he travels downward over the column of your neck, then your chest, to your legs. Drinking you in as per your consent and request. Then, he extends his hand. Palm facing upwards in a silent request. You understand.

Placing your own hand in his, he turns your hand upward, allowing full access to the center of your hand and tracing his finger over the lines.

“Your hands. That’s your center.” He says with finality, monotonous but confident. With a small smirk, he looks up at you, “You are a healer after all.”

You give a small nod, “I’m not sure if it comes from my fingertips or my palm, but yeah. My hands.”

Looking back down at your hand in his, he traces the finger in a circle, “Palm. That’s where I feel it the most.”

“What does it feel like?” You ask with a laugh, expecting something asinine and noncommittal considering Yuuji once said your presence felt like a cool wind on a summer’s day and Nobara insists that it feels like a warm shower.

Two entirely opposite feelings, yet somehow categorized in the schema of comfort. You hardly expect Nanami to give something so introspective, nor anything that reveals too much considering the extent to which he tends to maintain the boundary of respect in the conversations of explorations. The kind in which two people teeter on the thin ice of interest, yet never voice it.

And yet, his eyes connect with yours again, and it's entirely too overwhelming for you to process. Too interested, too warm. His face betrays no nervousness nor any hesitation as he stares, entirely convinced that this is what was meant to happen. As though he knew from the moment Gojo asked that it was going to unfold this way.

Like he prepared for it. Like he decided today was the day that he crossed that line.

“Home. Warm and comforting.”

Slow heat the creeps its way up your spine that makes your brain halt thought altogether and sputter intelligently, “Gojo’s kind of feels like… tar. Thick tar. Super gross.”

His hand, large and warm, encompasses your hand once more, lays it flat against his chest to feel both his exuding energy and the steady beat of his formidable heart.

“And mine?” He asks, low and gravelly. Like sweet honey that has you captured entirely, unable to escape. Not like you want to. No, you’d rather drown in this overwhelming redolence than ever live without it.

You don’t even realize your breathing heavily, nor that his face has gotten closer to yours. When did he move there? Did you move there?

Either way, his face is in front of yours, noses almost touching and the compulsion to answer him on the tip of your tongue.

“Addicting,” you whisper.

And then his lips are on yours, molding sweetly into you, and it's everything you have ever imagined it to be. Slow, yet firm. Warm and craving, and you can only fight for more, more, more.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer and you place your hands on his bare chest, the great reason as to your current predicament entirely, to steady yourself and your erratic heartbeat. Time seems to slow in the passion of his kiss, and yet when he parts for air, you feel as though you only had him for a second.

All the months of pining could barely make up for that singular moment.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while,” He says, leaning his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your aching lips. You scoff in laughter, meeting his smile with one of your own.

So, maybe, just maybe, listening to Gojo wasn’t a bad idea. And maybe, sometimes, he’s right about some things.

“Hey Kento?”

“Yes?”

“You really do have nice tits.”

“Likewise.”

[saintshigaraki]

won’t you give me your cruelest smile

↳ DARK ACADEMIA TSUKISHIMA KEI 

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader

word count: 1.4k

excerpt: 

He makes no move to get up as he watches you pack. “You really don’t like me, do you?” He sounds far too pleased for your liking.

“No one likes you,” you snap back, stuffing the last heavy tome in your bag and shouldering it. “You’re an ass.”

a/n: @yamagucji​​ said dark academia tsukki and my brain quite literally short circuited 

tags: enemies-ish to lovers (more like academic rivals to lovers), tsukki being an annoyingly smart condescending history major, reader goes through the five stages of grief when they realize they might actually li- 🤢 like him, a reference to the classic ‘ooooh you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid’ 

If there is a single, minuscule, barely visible silver lining in having Tsukishima as a partner for your quarter project it is that, without a doubt, he is smart. 

You have to admit, begrudgingly, that his intellect borders on genius-level which is something you use as silent proof to attest to your working theory that there is in fact, no god, or at the very least not a kind one, because if there was they wouldn’t be blessing gremlins like the one sitting across from you with a gift like that. 

He’s quiet now (after about an hour of telling you all the ways your interpretation was oh so very wrong) and content to stare at you lazily, his eyes half-lidded and filled with his specific brand of cruel amusement that leaves you wanting to do nothing more than smack his black-rimmed glasses right off his smug face. 

You take a deep breath and try desperately to quell the utterly unique type of rage he elicits in you, although as always, nothing you do ever quite manages to bring your boiling blood to a simmer. 

He’s twirling his expensive black pen between his stupidly long fingers. Every once in a while the light catches on the onyx stone of his pinky ring which somehow manages to flash directly in your eyes every time. He notices, of course. He notices everything. Which makes you think he’s doing it on purpose just to be an ass.

Which, admittedly, is perfectly in line with everything else he does so, you come to the frustrating conclusion that he most definitely is doing it on purpose. 

“You’re embarrassingly easy to rile up,” he says, interrupting your silent seething, his voice deep and smooth and absolutely dripping with condescending satisfaction. 

Your eyes flash up from the book you’d been only barely processing just to be met with his own golden-brown ones. He’s smirking down at you, of course. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear any other sort of expression. 

You want nothing more than to glare at him but that would just be proving his point so instead, you snap your book shut. It rings out loudly in the empty library. 

“It’s late. Let’s start this backup tomorrow.”

He makes no move to get up as he watches you pack. “You really don’t like me, do you?” he sounds far too pleased for your liking. 

“No one likes you,” you snap back, stuffing the last heavy tome in your bag and shouldering it. “You’re an ass.” 

He tilts his head back, exposing his long neck, and laughs. It’s so deep you feel it in your own chest. You just barely manage to suppress a shiver, which thank fuck, because he would’ve most definitely noticed it and you don’t think you’d be able to live that down. 

You make your way towards the front doors but not before he manages to slip on his wool coat and catch up to you, with ease of course, his long legs have become your number one enemy over the quarter because he always, always, catches up with you when you try to speed walk away from him. 

The autumn chill immediately settles into your bones, your skin prickles unpleasantly. You can see your breath in the night air. A shitty end to a shit day. 

You both head down the cobbled street in strangely comfortable silence. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat he radiates and you’re silently thankful for it. 

You get to the fork in the path where he takes his way back to his dorm and you take yours but instead of peeling off left like he usually does he sticks to your side. 

You stop immediately and eye him up warily. “What are you doing?”

He rolls his eyes. “Asking idiotic questions doesn’t really suit you, you know.” 

You say nothing, content to narrow your eyes. 

He rolls his eyes again and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m walking you home, try not to be a brat about it.” 

“You never walk me home,” you point out, suspiciously. 

“You are rather good at pointing out the very obvious, aren’t you?” and before you can respond he already had turned on his heels and started walking. You have to half jog to catch up. 

You watch him out of the corner of your eye with the intent of trying to read his motive but you get stuck on the fact that his cheeks are flushed rather prettily from the cold. 

“You sure do love to stare, don’t you?” he asks rather conversationally. 

You’ve never wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole more in your entire life. Your cheeks burn hot even in the frigid cold. 

He notices. Of course he does. What does Tsukishima Kei not notice?

“No need to be embarrassed,” he needles cruelly. “Denial can be a brutal beast.”

You only barely manage to stop yourself from asking what exactly he means by that, what exactly he thinks you’re in denial about. 

But you know he wants nothing more than for you to ask so you take a sweet sort of satisfaction in not questioning him further, at least on that front. 

The rest of the walk back to your dorm is spent in less comfortable silence than before. There’s an odd sort of tension in the air, like a rope pulled so tight you can physically feel it starting to fray, getting ready to snap.

It comes to a head when, after getting to your building, instead of immediately going inside you find yourself looking down and shuffling your feet.

You know you should thank him, even if you didn’t ask him to walk you home. You guys never worked this late, you’d lost track of time (it’s scarily easy to lose track of time when arguing with Tsukishima) and you know it was nice of him to walk you home when he’d have to double back another 15 minutes in the freezing cold to get to his place. 

You know you should thank him. It’s the reasonable, polite thing to do. But it’s just so fucking hard to be reasonable and polite when Tsukishima Kei and his galaxy-sized ego are involved. No one in your entire life has been able to get under your skin as he has. It’s like he was perfectly crafted to be your own personal headache. 

You brave a glance up at him and find that he’s standing very, very close and staring, rather intensely, at you. A curiously amused gleam in his eye. 

Your mind stutters and then stops completely, going painfully blank. 

He’s so stupidly pretty. 

His skin is flawless, you’ve never once seen him with even a single pimple, his hair is the nicest pale-blond you’ve ever seen and it falls in perfect tufts against his forehead, but it’s his eyes that always make you shift from foot to foot. They’re such a unique shade of golden-brown, and now, shrouded in the dark and mere inches away from your own face, you’d swear on your life they were practically glowing.

“You’ve got something on your mind?” he asks, his tone anything but sweet. He’s so close you can smell the warm spice of his cologne and the ever-clinging scent of ancient books that seems to follow him wherever he goes. 

“I-” but you can’t seem to put together a coherent sentence. You don’t think you’ve ever hated someone so much in your life. 

Somehow, he’s managed to push in even closer. “You know what I think?”

No, you want to say, and I don’t want to know. Your heart is beating far too fast and you can’t explain why. 

(You know exactly why)

“I think you want to kiss me.”

And just like that the rope snaps and you’re viciously tugging him down by the collar of his too-nice coat so you can smash your lips against his. 

The kiss is brutal. Far too mean with too much teeth. At one point you taste the sting of iron and you can’t tell if the blood is his or yours. 

He backs you up against a wall without breaking the kiss. When he bites at your lip, no doubt cutting it open, you grab a fist full of his hair and tug cruelly and his responding groan tastes so sweet on your tongue. 

He doesn’t pull away until your lungs are screaming for air. 

He’s inches away from you, pupils blown wide, lips swollen (and a little bloody), and his hair is a mess. It’s the most out of sorts you’ve ever seen him. 

If you thought he was pretty before, he’s absolutely beautiful now. 

His smirk widens into a full blown smile and you understand now why he doesn’t show it often. It shows too many teeth, it’s downright wolfish. Predatory, even. 

You don’t really have time to think on it though before he pulls you into another bruising kiss. 

have some dark academia tsukishima headcanons while you’re here

he is without a doubt the most pretentious asshole you will ever meet and and you will HATE yourself for eventually finding him weirdly charming in any capacity

he is, of course, a history major which. if you have ever met pretentious male history majors you will know that this means he is a literal walking, talking, annoyingly tall headache

interrupts professors constantly. does it like he’s getting paid. will argue and argue and argue with them without that dumb condescending smirk ever, ever managing to slip off his face

(the worst part is, he’s honestly probably making a good point most of the time. but you’d quite literally rather die than admit that to him)

he is always walking around campus lazily flipping through leather bound books so old they’re cracked precariously at their spines, all on different ancient civilizations. you’d think that’d mean he’d be running into people but the student body collectively parts like the red sea for him which sets your teeth on edge.

he’s unbelievably arrogant and the worst part is its not baseless like you find yourself so desperately wishing it was

he IS smart, wickedly so. disgustingly, cruelly intelligent and he will use it to pick you apart piece by piece while that stupid fucking smirk stays glued on his face.

(you start to seriously question whether or not he’s even human because how can anyone keep the same, perfectly calculated expression for that long?)

always looks like he stepped straight out of some dark alternate universe vogue photoshoot with his constant rotation of black turtlenecks, long coats, and oxford loafers all tied together by the same 5 rings he’s never seen without, two of which are set with hefty onyx stones

you will be unlucky enough to be paired up with him for a project that will take all quarter long and multiple meet ups a week. when your professor announced your partner, you genuinely consider dropping the class and when you find out you wouldn’t be able to drop the class without switching majors, you genuinely consider switching majors

you don’t. and by the end of the quarter you’re really starting to question whether that was a good thing or not

[starryeyedweeb]

Walking In On Your Fave Anime Blondes Singing Along to Dolly Parton’s “Dumb Blonde”

Content Includes: Honestly, this could be read as either platonic or romantic- it’s basically borderline crack meant to give you a smile and some laughs. All underaged characters are aged up to 18+. Gender neutral reader, some language

Characters Included: Armin Arlert, Kurapika Kurta, Hawks/Takami Keigo, Tsukishima Kei, Gojou Satoru, Bakugou Katsuki

“Just because I’m blonde, don’t think I’m dumb. Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool.”

Armin

This is actually his power song

Before important meetings and strategy sessions where he’s slated be a big presenter, you’ll always hear him mumbling the same words over and over again under his breath, but you can never make out what they are

Until one day when you’re able to connect the dots 

One such meeting was coming up, and you leave for it before Armin does

He had just told you that he’s not quite ready to leave yet, but doesn’t explain why

You don’t think much about it and carry on, until you realize that you left a part of your harness at home and have to turn back

As you walk back through the door, you notice the sound of singing coming from his bedroom

The voice is distinctively Armin’s, and seeing as you’ve never heard him sing before, you’re actually quite excited

You sneak in as quietly as possible, and much to your amusement, you find him singing to himself in the mirror, pointing back at himself and belting the words almost aggressively

“Because this dumb blonde ain’t nobody’s fool!”

You wanted to sneak away and pretend you never saw anything, but you can’t resist bursting out into laughter

He jumps around and yelps, his face turning cherry red

“Y/N! I thought you left! I, um...I- this was...”

“Oh, my god.” A realization dawns on you. “Is that what you’re always whispering under your breath when you’re nervous?”

“Um...yeah. It just makes me feel stronger, I guess. I know, it’s so stupid...”

“No, it’s so cute! I promise,” you assure him. “And it’s fitting.”

“Really?”

“Of course! Even though you’re blonde, there’s not a dumb bone in your body.” You wrap him in a hug. “And you definitely aren’t anybody’s fool. Never let yourself be convinced otherwise.”

Kurapika

He’s had a bad day at work.

A really bad day.

He bursts through the front door one evening, eyes bright crimson, absolutely raving about how sick he was of being pushed around and treated like he’s less than he is, spewing out ultimatums such as “To hell with the intel, I’m never going back to being a bodyguard ever again.”

To cheer him up and to get away until his anger could simmer down, you offer go pick up his favorite meal

And as you approach the door with the food in hand, you hear something odd on the other side

You cautiously open the door and peer inside, discovering Kurapika yelling along to the popular song

No, seriously- yelling

There’s no sense of song to his cadence whatsoever, he’s just hollering louder than you’ve ever thought him capable of

He’s also pulled out a basket of laundry and has started throwing it around the room as he continues on his rampage

(It was the least destructive thing he could take his anger out on)

You tiptoe over to put the food on the counter, but he’s still yet to notice you

When he shows no signs of stopping, his eyes growing redder by the second, you eventually clear your throat

“Pika, what are you doing?”

He stops with a jolt, the ending notes of the song fading away in the background

The red of his eyes drops down to his face as he realizes what you just saw

“y/n...how long have you been standing there?”

“Since the first chorus.” You choke down a giggle. “I didn’t know you liked that song.”

“I don’t, I just...” He rubs the back of his neck. “Silly as this is, it’s just the best way I’ve found to relieve my petty stress in a safe way.”

“So... this is something you do often?”

His face grows so red you think it might burst. “...yes.”

You two stare at each other for a few moments, then simultaneously burst into laughter

The kind where your entire body shakes, your stomach hurts, and tears spill from your eyes

When he doubles over to catch his breath, you cross the room to wrap him in a hug, rocking back and forth

“Can I join in next time?” you teasingly ask. “It looks fun.”

Kurapika wipes his cheeks and rolls his eyes with a smile. “Sure, why not? Just don’t tell anyone else.”

Hawks

This was the first time you had ever slept over with Keigo, and what he listens to while getting ready comes as quite a surprise.

He gets up before you do, and you wake to hear strange music coming through the closed bathroom door

You tiptoe over to see what’s going on, sliding the door open as quietly as possible

Not that he would’ve heard you, anyway, because as he’s doing his eyeliner, he’s humming along to the blaring Dolly Parton hit, swaying his hips in time with the beat

When the song reaches its defining line, he pulls the eyeliner pen away from his face and throws his head back, wailing the lyrics to the ceiling with comedic passion

You stifle your laughter behind your hand as he returns to his task, still  oblivious to your presence

Picking a choice moment to reveal yourself, you burst fully into the bathroom and fix him with a mischievous look

“Whatcha listening to?”

He jumps in shock when he spots you, leaving a streak of eyeliner down his cheek

“Fuck!” He exclaims, pouting at the black stripe. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough,” you tease.

“I mean, it’s not what it looks like.” He avoids eye contact, hunting around for makeup remover. “Don’t you just have a random song that gets you motivated, no matter how stupid it is?”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” You hoist yourself up onto the bathroom counter next to him. “Dolly Parton is amazing. ‘Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Joleeeeeeene’.”

“You know what? She is. You’re so right.” He points his eyeliner at you, nodding in aggressive approval. “See? This is why I like you.”

And you can bet your ass that every time you get in the car together from here on out, you’re blaring Dolly Parton

There have been several instances when you’ve shown up to missions with it pounding from the speakers as you sleekly step out of the car, ready to apprehend any villains that dare to cross the pair of you

And it’s the most badass thing ever.

Tsukishima

At this point in your relationship, you thought you had learned all of Tsukishima’s secrets.

You were wrong.

It starts completely innocently, with the two of you going with Yamaguchi for a boba run

And when Tsukishima settles into the driver’s seat, his phone auto-connects to the speakers and sends familiar country twangs through the car at a volume that prompts you to clap your hands over your ears

“Shit!” he mutters, fumbling around, unsure which would do the most damage control: changing the song or muting the volume

“Kei,” you guffaw, “what the hell were you listening to?”

“It was an ad,” he insists, eventually managing to get the volume to a favorable range and select a less-embarrassing song choice

“Don’t let him fool you, Y/N.” Yamaguchi’s head pokes between the two front seats. “Dumb Blonde is one of his favorite songs.”

“And don’t listen to how idiotic Yamaguchi’s being,” Tsukishima bites back, but the pink tinge growing over the top of his ears betrays his lie.

“It’s been one of his top five most played songs for about three years now,” Yamaguchi continues. “I think he relates to it.”

“You’re kidding!”

At this point, you can’t control your giggles, and Kei’s jaw grows tighter by the second

“Yeah, and once he has a couple of drinks in him, he’ll shamelessly belt the hell out of it at karaoke.” Yamaguchi’s gaze flickers to his phone as his finger rapidly scrolls. “Here, I have a video.”

“Yamaguchi, don’t you dare-”

Tsukishima reaches a long arm out to steal the phone, but you grab his hand before he can take it

“Aht aht, Tsukki,” you tease. “You have two passengers that you’re responsible for. Eyes on the road, please.”

As he glowers, Yamaguchi shows you a glorious video of Tsukishima absolutely wailing out the Dolly Parton hit into a karaoke microphone, the teammates around him laughing so hard that they almost appeared to be choking

“That’s amazing!” You squeal, belly hurting from so much laughter. “But I can’t believe that video didn’t spread around like wildfire.”

“Bold of you to assume that I don’t have worse blackmail to use against all of them,” Kei snaps.

“Well, you should know that you’re never going to live this down as far as I’m concerned.”

“I don’t know why it’s such a big deal. Everyone has guilty pleasures.” By this point, his face is the same shade as a tomato, but he fixes you with a knife-like gaze that strikes fear into your heart. “Shall I start listing yours?”

Gojou

(i know he’s technically silver/platinum but he just has blonde energy okay)

The last thing you expect to come home to after a long day of work is Dolly Parton music blaring through your home

And you expect even less to find Gojou standing on the couch, belting the song at the top of his lungs

Beyond the initial shock, you have to admit that he actually sounds quite good, hitting each note to perfection and performing the song with subtle corresponding choreography

“Gojou!” You eventually shout. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Oh, good! You’re home.” He deftly hops off the couch and approaches you with a grin. “I’ve been wanting your opinion on my act.”

“Your act?”

“Yes! The school staff has an annual karaoke contest coming up. I do this song every year, and it’s undefeated.”

“Every year? How have I never known about this?”

“I actually don’t have any idea. I have videos. I’ll show them to you, if you’d like.”

“You’re a little too proud of that,” you giggle. “But if it’s undefeated, why do you need my opinion on it?”

“Because everyone always conspires to try and beat me. I have to keep it fresh. But lately, it’s just been feeling stale.” He furrows his brows, a finger going to his chin in contemplation.

“How are you so serious about this but so carefree when you’re literally about to die?” You grab his elbows and give them a small shake. “Anyway, what I saw certainly didn’t seem stale. Seems like you were having a pretty good time.”

“A good time just isn’t enough anymore...”

You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as he paces around the room, more serious than you’d ever seen him

Over a karaoke contest to a Dolly Parton song

He snaps his fingers as he finally comes to his realization, approaching you with a sinister smile

“I’ve got it! You should perform it with me.”

“Are you serious? No! No no no.”

“Come on, don’t be so closed-minded.” Gojou grabs your hand and yanks you up onto the couch with him. “Give it a shot.”

After much protesting on your part and much silly encouragement on his, you try it out to pacify him, and end up being quite the dynamic duo

As he wished, you perform the comedic act at the karaoke contest, and satisfy Gojou by maintaining his undefeated record

“You know that you owe me big time now, right?” you ask as he admires the cheap trophy he’s just been handed.

He grins, draping his long arm over your shoulders. “Anything you want, you’ve got it.”

Bakugou

Bakugou discovers the song after Kirishima and Denki put it on his playlist as a joke

Denki had the bright idea to give Bakugou the nickname “dumb blonde” and figured that the prank would be the start of it all

Needless to say, it didn’t go over very well

There was yelling

And a few punches thrown

You eventually have to pull him away, imploring him to calm down

“I’m not going to calm down until that piece of shit is off my playlist.”

You promptly take his phone and hold it in front of him, removing the offending song

“See? Gone. Now please chill out.”

Flash-forward to a week or so later

You happen to walk into the gym for a late night run on the treadmill while he’s there doing weights

Since he was alone before you entered, his music is hooked up to the central sound system, blaring some heavy metal song as he softly hums along in time with his breaths

You don’t think anything of it, giving him a small wave and going to put your own earbuds in

Until the barely-perceptible lyrics seem a little familiar

You pause to listen for a moment, and shoot him a look of shock when you realize that he is, in fact, listening to a heavy metal cover of Dumb Blonde.

“Is this-”

“Shut up,” he snaps, avoiding eye contact and continuing to pump the machine with frightening intensity.

“How did you even find a cover like this?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I’m just so-”

“It just helps me work out, okay?” He lets the weight drop with a sharp clang. “Don’t you fucking dare tell anyone about this.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good. Now get on with your workout and let me finish mine.”

He focuses his fiery gaze on the faraway wall, but strangely doesn’t bother to change or turn off the song

And you can’t resist pulling your phone out, pretending to take a selfie while you’re actually, in fact, filming him behind you

“I can see you, stupid,” he snaps. “I’m serious. I’ll fucking kill you.”

You jump in fear, the phone falling from your hands.

“I wasn’t!” You fib. “Besides, it’s away now.”

But little did he know, you had already captured everything you needed to see, and the footage was already on its way to Kirishima and Denki

You know that you’re beyond dead once he finds out what you had done, but the amusement of it all is beyond worth it

Besides, maybe now he’d think twice before the next time he makes fun of someone.

[ff-imagines]

Can i request some nsfw headcanons for mantis shrimp? I read through your blog and let me just say: I'm a big fan. Btw if you dont wanna do them thats fine as well

Salt and pepper shrimp: nsfw alphabet

I did the whole alphabet bc? Why not! Side note I rly wanna write a fic going off my thoughts ab his experience level >:)

A - aftercare

Look, getting him to release you from his hold to go to the bathroom on a regular night is a battle enough. After sex? Phew I wish you luck. Might wanna just put some water on your night stand beforehand. You would be able to convince him to take a bath with you pretty easily though, he likes how the warm water feels very much. Make sure to cuddle him in the bath still, he's in a very vulnerable state right now and he really needs some good old tlc.

B- body parts

he’s got a weird fixation with your hands. He likes to compare hand sizes, whether your hands are bigger or smaller isn’t what he likes, he just likes to admire them. He loves sucking/biting your fingers while he’s got you in his lap. Lacing your fingers with his with one hand while bringing the other to his cheek, nuzzling into your hand while he bounces you on his cock.

On himself, there is tragically little that he genuinely likes. He views himself as a weapon, getting him to unlearn that will not be an easy process, trust me, Boston has tried. Complimenting his eyes does seem to make him a little more flustered than other praises, and he has a hard time staring you in the eye during sex…. maybe we can start there.

C - cum

His cum is pretty thin but there’s a shit ton of it. Enough that if he cums inside you swear you can feel the warmth as his cock pours rope and rope of his seed into you.

He doesn’t actually care where he cums, just ask him and he’ll comply.

inside you? sounds good.

On your back? Say less.

On the floor? You’re cleaning it, but sure.

He did discover he’s got an affinity for watching his cum on your tongue. I don’t know how you’d be able to swallow it all, but any attempt you make will be met with shrimp getting hard all over again.

D - dirty secret

He secretly thinks it’d be really hot for you to dom him. It’s gonna take a very long time before he’s comfortable letting you have that Linda control over him, just the thought of being tied up, hands behind his back while you praise him for being such a good boy, its a fantasy he’s visited on many sleepless nights.

E - experience

Nope. Nada. To be frank, I think he’s the definition of Demisexual, and he has yet to meet anyone besides Boston and the anti-human gang who he genuinely wants to get to know better. He definitely hasn’t met anyone who wants to get to know better for romantic reasons.

He doesn’t know enough about human customs to know that it can be embarrassing for someone to be inexperienced, but he does feel very very nervous the first few times. He’ll need a lot of reassurance, give him praise and he’s putty in your hands.

F - favorite position

I'm gonna be boring and say missionary. It’s simple, easy, and since he’s brand new to all of this it’s the least mentally overstimulating. He very much likes that he can see your face.

If he’s feeling extra spicy he might grab onto the inside of your knees and push you into the mating press, though he really only does this if he’s upset or jealous.

If you ask nicely he might let you sit in his lap, as a treat. Bouncing on his cock as he litters your chest with bite marks, what a treat it is <3

G - goofy

…. yea for sure definitely. He’s a real jokester.

On a serious note, he himself is not a goofy person whatsoever, but he would actually like it if you were. Outright making fun of him or harsh teasing is an immediate turn off, but light jokes to ease his nerves is for sure welcomed since he’s very tense the first few times.

Give him time and you might even catch him cracking a small joke himself, all the while giving you a weak, nervous smile.

H- hair

He doesn’t trim or shave anything lmao. He’s busy, and also doesn’t care literally at all. He’s got a thin happy trail that can be easy to miss since he's blonde.

He’s got the same energy with your body hair, he doesn’t care. If you do shave he might ask why, just out of curiosity. If your reason is insecurity, he’ll probably suggest you let it grow, he doesn’t care and he’s the only one who’ll ever see it lmao

I- intimacy

It’s an awkward “i hope to fuck I’m doing this right” kind of intimacy. He fumbles and messes up a lot, he might even accidentally miss when thrusting and end up just kinda rubbing himself on you but he’s really trying. Just from the fact he’s willing to try this at all with you is a big sign that he’s really trying his best to be as intimate as he can with you.

J- jerk off

Before meeting you, not a lot actually. He mostly just did it if he ever woke up from a wet dream and knew that if he didn’t take care of it now he’d never be able to get back to sleep.

After your first time together, his first time, he thinks back the immeasurable pleasure a lot, finding himself in need of relief a lot more than he ever did before. You are the catalyst to his drive, and you are also the only thing he can think about that can help him cum. It’s kinda sweet in a perverted way.

K- Kinks

He will bite you. It’s just so easy to bruise you and it makes your relationship status to others so obvious, he can’t just… not bite you.

Marking, going along with the biting kink. This goes both ways, he’d love for you to scratch at his back enough to leave red marks, to bite as his collarbone, grip his hips tight enough to bruise. He likes looking at the marks later, they remind him that he did good, he made you feel good, that’s all he really wants.

He doesn’t exactly have a breeding kink as much as this goes along with the marking aspect. Suggest to him that he cum deep inside you to mark your insides… he might give you 2-3 loads just to make sure you're nice and full, completely claimed.

He also kinda likes to make you cry. Overstimulating you to the point of tears gives him a sense of pride he hasn’t really felt before.

He really likes temperature play as well, dragging ice cubes and hot wax across your skin and watching you flinch and squirm just does something to him.

And of course, light bondage. He probably found out it was a thing after reading some kinda erotic fiction and immediately went to you like “why did you not tell me about this?????” He adores how to look all tied up and stuck, right in the palm of his hands. It makes him feel emotional as well, that you’re willing to give him such a powerful amount of control over you.

Last but not least, please praise him. During sex as well as day to day. Let him know he’s so pretty, he’s doing so good, he’s cock feels so so good, he might cum on the spot.

L- location

The first time he’d really need it to be in a secluded, safe area. He’s gotta feel comfy if he’s gonna get into the mood.

Every other time? Babes you’ve awakened a beast, he’ll get random spikes of “if I don’t at least try to fuck them I will scream”. You could be in the middle of a forest running from an axe wielding murderer and this horny bastard would still find a way to pull you aside and rail you against a tree.

There most likely isn’t a spot in your home that he hasn’t fucked you against.

Peaceful moment of washing dishes? Think again, he’s plopping you on the kitchen counter and diving to mouth at your neck.

Writing some papers? Just sit on his lap, you’ll feel much less stressed with his cock buried to the hilt, won’t you?

Doing laundry? Might have to rewash them cause now he’s using the clothes as a bed to fuck you on. He’ll apologize and help you fold them after they’re rewashed bc he feels bad lmao

M- motivation

Like I said, he’s set off by the smallest things. A little stretch, wiping some water off on your pants, humming a song, all of it can randomly make him feel the need to fuck you.

The most intense and quickest way to rile him up is either playing with his hair, or massaging his back. It starts out innocent but he just can’t take the thought of your pretty hands working so lovingly and not at least trying to reciprocate and make you feel good too.

N- no

No sharing. He doesn’t want someone else to see you, and he doesn’t want someone else to see him. It’s just not something he likes.

He also hates humiliation. He… would tolerate it if you asked for it, even if he doesn’t get why you’d want him to outright insult you. But for himself? Fuck no, he hates it so fuckin much. He’s a sensitive insecure puppy that wants your attention very badly, pls don’t hurt him like that :(

O- oral

Oh please give him oral. He’s begging. Well, he’d never outright beg but the way his eyes fixate on your mouth a lot is his way of silently pleading for you to wrap your lips around his cock. His soul ascends a little every time he sees his cum dribbling down your face, he might be even willing to make out with his cum still on your tongue.

As for giving, he’s got no clue what the hell he’s doing but he’s nervously eager to try. Guide him as best you can, he’s good at measuring your reactions so he can handle the rest. Tug on his hair a little bit if you wanna drive him crazy.

He’ll get a lot better with time, his eagerness to please however, does not leave him in the slightest.

P- pace

The first time? Slow and unsure, then he realizes “oh fuck this feels stupid good” and his pace becomes almost punishing. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing, he’s unknowingly going deeper and harder than you've ever been dicked down in your life. If you want him to, somehow, go harder? Grab his hand and place it over your stomach to make him feel his cock enter you through your skin, his hand slides down to grip your hips and slams into you, wiggling his hips without withdrawing to gain some of his sanity back before he’s back to a punishing pace.

Q- quickies

Oh hell yea. He lives for them. Sudden moments of horniness come to him all the time and since this spike in desire is brand new, he hasn’t really… learned to live with it yet. He pulls you aside into closets and alleyways all the time, he can’t help that you feel so warm and snug :(

R- risk

He doesn’t exactly enjoy the thought of a voyeur, he really doesn’t want to share you with anyone. But… there is a deeper part of him that finds a sense of pride if someone were to hear you getting absolutely pounded by him, desperately crying out and whining for him to go deeper, even better if they were someone who pined for you….

S- stamina

Well, to be frank he cums pretty quickly. It’s all so brand new to him, he really can’t help it. Lucky for you, his refractory time is crazy low. He can cum once, watch you do some mindless motion you always do and he’s right back to being hard again in minutes.

T- toys

Not against it, but is again, brand new to all this shit. He’s very interested in using your own toys against you though. Would definetly use a vibrater to edge and overstim you. He’d be interested in a cock ring, only if you were willing to endure a vibrator while he fucks you, he doesn’t wanna be the only one struggling lmao

U- unfair

He can be, yea. He kinda likes edging you, but not as much as he likes overstimulating you.

He loves to hear how you beg under him when he’s pulling you so close to the edge, keeping you just far enough to drive you insane.

Overstimming though? The way you twitch and beg, how your chest heaves and your mouth hangs open into a silent scream, eyes shut tight and watering, now that’s the good shit.

V- volume

Doesn’t talk much, but for sure gives out a lot of groans. This is something he’s never felt before in his life, the first few times you're going to get a lot of whines and surprised yelps, check up on him and make sure he’s still doing alright, he’s just very nervous.

As he gets more comfortable, he gives you quiet praises and promises to make you feel good. He also groans quite a lot, but since his voice is deeper it can be hard to catch.

W- wild card

He really wants to try using his prosthetic arm for temperature play, he’s just not at all confident in himself enough to bring it up. He likes the thought of you jumping and squirming under his touch, for now he can just stick to wax play.

X- X Ray

Mans is actually pretty fuckin big. He’s got no idea how big he is though. If you were surprised and a little nervous about his size he’d be pretty confused, is there something wrong? Did you change your mind? The concept of him being well above average is something you’ll have to explain later. It boosts his ego quite bit, even if he’d never admit it.

Whine about him being too big and you can just see the pride swelling in his chest, giving you no mercy with his thrusts.

Y- yearning

Often. Very very often. He’d fuck you multiple times every day if he had the time. However, you’re both busy, and you’d probably get a UTI with how many times this man wants to dick you down lmao. He’s got his cock buried in you at least 4-5 times a week.

Z- zzz

Actually pretty quickly. Even if he prefers being in control during sex, he kinda likes being the little spoon as he drifts to sleep. Give him some soft praises about how well he did and he’s turning into jello in your hold.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Get Me To Church, I’ve Done So Many Bad Things It Hurts

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: you guys, idk what this is. I only know it’s not what I initially planned. Title is from Sinéad O’Connor’s song “Take Me To Church”, which hijacked this story’s initial plot. It reminds me of Wilhemina, and it’s a very good song <3

Word count: ~ 5 400

Your brain no longer was a brain but fucking mush. Mush that stunk and made one want to throw up at first sight. You had not been able to get a good night’s sleep since you had been sent to Outpost 3 a few months ago. You were running on a few hours of rest snatched here and there and on the disgusting, weird food cubes. At this point, when someone talked to you, you would gap at them until your brain suddenly gave a start and registered their words. Your body felt twice its weight. It was hard to concentrate, hard to think.

Days went by looking exactly alike. You would get out of bed, meet the others, try to have a talk, listen to the same song over and over again. “Calling occupants of interplanetary, most extraordinary craft”. Stare at a book maybe, open it, stare at a page, fail to understand a single sentence. You would wait for time to pass. Complain with Coco or Andre or that guy whose name you couldn’t remember even though you had been living together for months now. One day, Coco and you decided to exercise by running up and down a staircase, but you didn’t last more than five minutes before you dropped on the floor, panting. You didn’t try again. You lacked the motivation.

Sit at the table, eat your cube. “Calling occupants of interplanetary, most extraordinary craft”. Go to bed. You were going crazy. You could no longer tell what was real and what was a figment of your imagination.

In truth, there was one thing at least you knew was real. The butterflies in your stomach every time Venable – freaking Venable, of all people – so much as walked into the room you were in.

It was terrible. Why her, why you, you did not know. The only thing you knew was that you were falling hard for her, for that sadistic, mean, scary woman.

In typical mush-brain fashion, you couldn’t string two sentences together when she would ask you a question and her dark eyes would bore into you. You would laugh stupidly or give one-word answers. You would trip over your own feet when you passed her in a corridor.

So, really, it wasn’t a surprise when you realized that she hated you even more than she seemed to hate the others. For starters, she never looked at you. When she did, her eyes were as cold as the North Pole. Icy winds and all that. And when she talked to you, her voice was always so condescending, so sarcastic, as if she knew you were the most idiotic idiot at the Outpost. She probably wondered every minute of every day why you had been chosen to survive. It was a mystery to you, too.

But then – but this was part of your imagination. It must be. There was no rational explanation. For the wistful look on her face you had caught a glimpse of, once, when you had turned and shot her a glance. She had been staring at you. Or for the faint blush that had risen to her cheeks when you had accidentally – accidentally? – brushed past her, way too close to her, on your hurried way to the bathroom. Or for that one time, that blissful, ethereal time – but that had been a dream, it must have been, you had passed out from exhaustion and dreamed – when she, coming out of her room, and you of yours, had paused with her hand on the doorknob, and raised her head, met your eyes, and smiled. Not her mocking, cruel smile. But a fond, almost shy smile. A genuine smile, reflected in her eyes. This you were sure you had dreamed. Were you?  

You were falling for her. Love, intimacy, would make things more tolerable. You craved a strong, true connection with someone, and part of you was convinced you could have it with her.

In the past few evenings Venable had made a habit of joining you in the music room as you whiled the time away before bed. She wouldn’t say anything, merely sit and read a book. The first time she had done it, you and the others had exchanged half surprised, half worried looks. What was she doing? Studying you? Deciding which one of you she would cook for dinner? You didn’t know. Her presence had made you all uncomfortable at first, but now you were used to it. You ignored her, just as she ignored you.

She always, always sat facing you.

And you couldn’t help but steal glances at her. Marvel at the beauty and neatness of her. Your eyes would travel down her body and the butterflies in your stomach would go wild and your head fill with want. For. Her.

Her eyes never met yours, not even once.  

One evening as you sat brooding and she sat reading facing you, and the others chatted about some boring things, and the music, the music went “Calling occupants of interplanetary, most extraordinary craft”, you abruptly jumped on your feet to stretch your upper body. The sudden movement surprised Venable, who looked up at you. You met her eyes and gave her a goofy smile. She scowled.

“In your mind you have capacities,” you heard yourself sing to the music.

“But do you, Y/N?” Venable sneered.

That shut you up. You straightened up and glared at her. “Do you have, like, a problem with me?” you asked in an annoyed voice.

“Do you mean apart from your obvious lack of brain cells?”

“Why are you always so mean?” you heard yourself whine.

“Oh, boo hoo,” Venable cooed. “Poor you. Look at you, standing among the few who have been allowed to survive the Apocalypse. Do you really think I should feel sorry for you?”

You considered that. “No,” you grumbled.

“No, Ms Venable.”

You didn’t know what came over you then. Probably it was a mix of exhaustion, anger, frustration and want. Your hands clenched into fists. In what was both the bravest and stupidest moment of your life, you retorted, “Bite me.”

Someone in the room gasped, and then chuckled. Venable’s eyes went wide with shock. Heat flooded your cheeks.

You were dead meat, you knew that. So really you couldn’t make things worse by adding: “I’m sorry. I meant, bite me, Ms Venable.”

Impressive. You were a genius. Gosh, you needed sleep.

You couldn’t meet Venable’s eyes. Instead you stared at Andre, who was gawping at you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Coco give you a thumbs-up. You smiled shyly at her.

“Right,” you said. “Um. Goodnight.”

You hurried out of the room before someone could call you back. Your heart was beating too fast in your chest, but you couldn’t really understand why. You needed sleep.

You closed the door of your bedroom behind you and collapsed on your bed.

**

You couldn’t sleep.

It was always the same: you were exhausted all day, but the minute your head touched your pillow, your brain roared back into life. Someone in your head turned the light on. You were wide awake.

You groaned and turned on the bed. You didn’t have the slightest idea what time it was or how long you had lain under the sheet. It could have been ten minutes, it could have been a century. You turned again, forced yourself to close your eyes.

Bite me, Ms Venable. Damn it, you were such a fool when you were exhausted! You had survived the bloody Apocalypse and now you were about to die for something so, so stupid. Venable was probably plotting your death right now. She would order you out of the Outpost and condemn you to a horrible death among the repugnant creatures that haunted the nuclear winter outside. In your current state, you wouldn’t last a day. You’d trip over something and break your neck or get stabbed by the first hungry person you’d meet.

Fear clenched your stomach. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t feel like giving up on life yet. Even if the world as you had known it was gone, even if there was almost no hope of a bright, safe future. God, you wanted to live.

You sprang out of bed before you knew what you were doing and ran to the door. Locked it. Looked around the room for things to build a barricade with. The chair would do, and if you could move that huge chest of drawers –

You heard footsteps coming down the corridor towards you. And something else, unmistakable. The sound of a cane.

Shit. Your whole body froze with fear. Then your hand automatically reached for a decorative statuette close-by, that had sharp angles and that you could use as a weapon if need be. The footsteps grew louder and came to a halt at your door.

You waited, heart hammering in your chest. Venable must have a spare key, of course she must. You stared at the doorknob, expecting it to move, expecting the door to open, on Venable standing tall and threatening and radiating off anger and satisfaction. How so very beautiful she would look.

Nothing happened.

What was she doing? You couldn’t hear anything but the mad pounding of your heart. Had you imagined her footsteps? The sound of her cane? But you had been so sure –

One of your hands came up to press against the door. Fingers splayed out, palm pressing against the cold, hard surface. To try and feel her through the wood.

You waited. Your heartbeat was drumming against the wood. And it was slowing down, and your eyes were fluttering closed, for she was here – just behind the door, and you could almost see her, her eyes on the doorknob, the spare key in her hand, her lips slightly parted. It was as if your soul had connected with hers and now they were softly singing to each other.

There was a sound like a sigh. Before you knew it you had unlocked the door and opened it.

Venable stood in front of you with her left hand in the air, a few inches further to the left than yours had been. She met your eyes in surprise as her fingers curled up. She lowered her hand, and schooled her features.

You decided your safest option was to play it cool.

“I thought I heard a noise,” you said, assuming a casual expression.

“I was on my way to bed,” Venable answered. A pause. “I saw your light was on through the gap under your door.”

She didn’t sound particularly mad or threatening. Relief flooded your chest. Maybe she didn’t mean to kill you, after all. Maybe you’d been over-reacting.

Her eyes fell on the statuette you were still holding.

“What’s this?” she asked very slowly. Her eyes met yours again. They were dark, her eyes. The darkest eyes you had ever seen.

“What’s this?” she repeated, louder. You started.

“Oh, uh.” You raised the statuette to your chest and shrugged. Play it cool. “I don’t know why I’m holding this.” You tried to laugh. It came out nervous and foolish. “Must have been sleepwalking or something.”

Venable’s gaze was boring into you, piercing your skin, piercing your veins, piercing your bones. You felt too hot suddenly. You laughed again. Then it finally dawned on you.

“My light isn’t on,” you said.

You always kept one candle burning when you slept, but its light was very faint. There was no way Venable could have seen it from the lit corridor.

Her face didn’t change. “It’s not?” she said in a toneless voice.

You shook your head. “I’m afraid not.”

She straightened her shoulders, raised her chin. Her grip on her cane tightened just so.

“Were you planning on attacking someone with this?” she asked, nodding at the statuette.

“I’ve no idea what you mean,” you answered, holding her gaze.

“I cannot think of any other use you could have for it.”

“Well, maybe I was.”

“Has someone threatened you?”

You scoffed. Gave her a look as if to say the joke wasn’t good. She narrowed her eyes uncomprehendingly.  

“Um, let’s see.” You folded your arms as you pretended to think. The statuette dug in your chest. “Maybe I’ve gone just a little bit too far with someone who’s quite obsessed with hierarchy.”

A small, incredulous laugh escaped her.

“You thought I was going to –“She didn’t finish her sentence, her laugh lingering on her lips as the incredulity reached her eyes.    

“Well,” you retorted, leaning your hip against the doorframe, “you did have those two Greys shot the other day for making love.” You raised your eyebrows at her. “For breaking one of your rules. So excuse me if I’m not feeling particularly safe right now.”

The smile vanished from her face. She closed her mouth, stared at you. Your eyes shifted to her lips. Back up to her eyes. You licked your lips.

“I wouldn’t have you killed merely for being stupid,” she said after a short moment.

How were her cheekbones so sharp? Her eyes so dark? You swore whomever had made her was the most talented artist and the cruelest asshole in the whole goddamn universe. How many years it must have taken, how much sweat, how many skills, how much patience and love, to make her.

You cleared your throat. What had she just said? Called you stupid. Wouldn’t have you killed. Something like that. You couldn’t remember.

“My light wasn’t on,” you said mechanically, “so why did you stop at my door?”

If the question surprised or unsettled her, she didn’t show it.

“I thought it was on,” she answered without missing a beat. She paused. “You thought I was going to have you killed?”

“Um, maybe.”

Her eyes fell on the statuette again. When they met yours, you swore you saw something like sadness deep into the black. She blinked, and the sadness disappeared.

“It’s getting late,” she said. “You should go to bed.”

You realized you didn’t want her to go. What if you invited her to come in? What if you told her about your insomnia, and asked her to help you while the night away? Merely have a talk with her. Merely sit by her side, and watch her, and share secrets with her. Show her you weren’t as stupid as she must think you were. You could light dozens of candles and watch the light dance on her face. Have her relax, make her laugh. And maybe if things went well, at the break of dawn you could lay your head on her lap, and certainly then sleep would find you.

You assumed a nonchalant expression. “Well then, goodnight to you,” you said with a smile that hurt your mouth.

She nodded, turned and walked off.

You listened to her footsteps fade away. You let out a long, shaky breath, and closed your door.

For a very long time you stayed with your back against the door, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. The sadness you had seen in Venable’s eyes haunted you. You tried to think of something else. What you would do tomorrow. Boring. That summer holiday you had spent in Spain with your best-friend. Venable’s hair in the flickering light of the candles. Venable’s face. Venable’s eyes. How you absolutely adored the fact that she could stand up to anyone. Venable’s eyes. The sadness in her eyes.

You groaned. You had half a mind to bang your head on the door to knock yourself out and finally get some sleep. Perhaps you could go to Venable’s room and apologise. Tell her you hadn’t meant to question her authority. You’d like to see her again.

It was a stupid idea. Lack of sleep made you so, so stupid. She would be angry, would order you out, slam her door in your face, maybe hit you with her cane. You shouldn’t. You wouldn’t.

You tip-toed down the corridor till you reached her door. It was slightly ajar, which surprised you. Heart beating fast, you opened it just enough to peek into the room.

Venable was sitting on the floor by the dark fireplace, her head bent, her hands joined on her lap. What was she doing on the floor? Surely the position couldn’t be good for her back. Then you noticed that her lips were moving, forming silent words, as if she were praying. Her eyes were closed.

The flickering light from the candles threw shadows on her face. Patches of black and red and orange vacillating and oscillating. Touching her face, fleeing to the walls. You watched her in silence, at a loss for what to do or what to think. You heard her sniffle, saw her raise a hand to wipe her cheek.

There was something so fragile about the scene in front of you. To see this woman who was always so proud, and so strong, and so dominating, murmuring silent words to herself on the floor in the dead of night. Or maybe those words weren’t for herself. Maybe they were addressed to someone else, whoever would listen, whoever would take the time to stop and lend an ear. Was she asking for strength? For mercy? Salvation? Her back was leaning slightly forward just like the backs of worshippers you had seen in churches.

Her lips stopped moving for a moment. She opened her eyes to stare unseeingly at the wall in front of her. You saw her bite her lower lip, saw her take a shaky breath. The silent murmuring started again.

You scratched your arm nervously. You knew you should leave, and erase from your mind this private moment you had no right to witness. Part of you felt like a thief. But your legs seemed to be frozen. You could not move them.

So you watched her. At one point she coughed softly, and the next two words came out loud enough for you to hear them: “Let me...”

Was she praying? You didn’t think she was a religious person. Why should she be? She had helped bring on the Apocalypse and had not received so much as a word of complaint from God. You squinted at her in the dim light, your body instinctively leaning towards her, your hands coming up to grip at the doorframe. Your heart was pushing against your ribs as if it wished to burst free from your chest and wrap around her.

Venable paused, sighed, went on murmuring. Once again her words reached you. “…soothe and let it save me so she can think it acceptable to love me.”

Your clammy palm slipped on the doorframe, unbalancing you. You gasped in a breath. Venable’s head jerked to the side. Her eyes locked with yours.

You could have screamed. Surprise then anger then fear flashed across Venable’s face as you took a step back, your mouth opening and closing like a fish as you tried to find something to say but couldn’t come up with anything. For a moment there was only silence, and you and she holding each other’s gaze.

Venable’s face closed up. She stood up, supporting herself on her cane, so calm, so composed. It was impressive, the tight grip she kept on her emotions. Always so perfectly in control of herself.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in a firm voice.  

“I –“you stuttered, “I – I’m sorry, I just – I, uh, saw your light was on.”

That was a risky answer, and you knew it. But today had been crazy, and any minute now Venable would unleash her wrath and it would destroy you. You had nothing left to lose. So you held her gaze, her inscrutable, unreadable gaze, admiring even now the flickers of candlelight that danced across the black.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you heard yourself say, your voice coming from far, far away. “I’ve not been able to sleep for quite a while. So I roam the corridors to try and distract myself, and I saw your light was on.” A pause. “What were you doing?”

Venable’s expression didn’t change. She took her time to answer, and you waited, waited for the inevitable anger, the inevitable punishment. You felt too distanced from yourself to be afraid.

“That is none of your business,” Venable said eventually. She turned away from you. “Go back to your room.”

That brought you back to yourself. Your soul crashed back into your body.

“Is that all?” you blurted out. “Go back to my room? Aren’t you going to, like,…” You didn’t finish your sentence, but she must have understood, because she turned to face you and shot you a somewhat outraged look.

“You seem so very certain I mean to hurt you,” she said sharply.

“Er, well.” You folded your arms on your chest and looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think. “In the last few hours I disrespected you and burst into your privacy. And, no offence, but you don’t strike me as a kitten kind of person.”

“Kitten?” she repeated.

“Yeah, you know.” You brought a nervous hand up to scratch your head. “Fluffy and cute, cuddly and helpless.”

She stared at you as if you were stupid. “Kittens scratch you for no reason.”

“Yeah, but...”You shook your head at yourself.”Never mind, don’t mind me. I’m too exhausted to think straight.”

Long seconds passed. None of you moved. You both held your ground, staring at each other. Waiting.

Your mouth opened again. “I don’t know whether I should run away from you or towards you.”  

She didn’t react. Didn’t answer. She kept staring at you.

“I can’t sleep,” you repeated. “May I stay here and sleep with you?”

Her expression did shatter at that. She blinked in surprise, then in consternation.

“Uh, I mean, not like that,” you stammered. “I mean sleep as in actually sleep. Uh, get some shuteye.”

Venable let out another one of her small, incredulous laughs. “No, you may not,” she answered sharply.

“Right, of course. Stupid me.” You tried to laugh, ended up choking on your own spit.”Sorry. Uh, forget about all this.” You quickly turned to go.

“You need to get a grip on yourself,” came Venable’s voice. You stopped.

“Gosh, I know,” you breathed.”I’m sorry.” You waited. No reply came, so you started to walk away.

“I may have a few sleeping pills, if you think they can help,” Venable called after you.

You turned on your heel and rushed back into her room. “Yes, please, I’d be very grateful. Thank you.”

Venable nodded, walked into the ensuite bathroom. You heard the sound of a drawer opening, some fumbling, and then she was back into the room holding a small pill box.

She dropped one pill in your extended hand. “Try this tonight. I can give you more tomorrow if it works.”

“Thank you,” you breathed. Your fingers curled around the pill as her eyes bore into yours. You almost reached out to touch her cheek. Almost.

But then your breath hitched. For that was it, wasn’t it? Her punishment. Her revenge. You glanced down at the pill in your hand. Poison. It had to be.

You glanced back up at her, and your thoughts must have shown on your face, for her eyes momentarily glazed over with the same sadness as before.  

“This is hydroxyzine,” she snapped.

“Right,” you mumbled. “Thanks.”

“Do you think some of my rules are too harsh?” she asked suddenly.

You blinked at her. “Well, I mean…” You paused a second, considering. You chose honesty.” Most of them are useful, I’ll give you that. But, Ms Venable, the copulation rule? People being shot for, what, loving each other? Finding comfort in each other?” You took one step towards her, growing irritated. “Those two Greys didn’t deserve death. They did nothing wrong. And what’s so bad about copulation, anyway? What’s so wrong with affection? Intimacy?”

You paused, waiting for her answer. Her eyes were very big and shining in the candlelight. They were different, now. It was that sadness again. She looked almost sad.

“Tell me, what’s wrong with this?” You reached out and laid the pad of your index on her right wrist. She tensed up, her hand tightening around the knob of her cane. Her eyes grew bigger still.

You swallowed, refusing to lower your gaze, as you slowly ran your finger down her hand, circled one of her knuckles, moved to the next. You could feel her shaking under your touch, her skin soft and hot.  

“This never hurt anyone,” you said softly. Her brow tightened, just so. She made as if to withdraw her hand from your touch. Your finger stuttered, your eyes questioning hers. Well, maybe affection had hurt her. Undoubtedly it had. You could read it in her eyes.  

You removed your hand, but she captured it in hers and brought it up close to her mouth.

“We cannot possibly take the risk of having to deal with a herd of babies, can we, Y/N?” she said very slowly. Her breath grazed your knuckles and sent a shiver down your spine. Her grip on your hand was strong.

“We can’t, Wilhemina,” you heard yourself say.

Wilhemina. How did you remember her Christian name? She had told it to you exactly once, on the day of your arrival at the Outpost. Months ago. And it wasn’t a very common name.

“But then again, Wilhemina,” you went on, “you and I would never have this problem.”

Venable brought your hand up to her mouth, her gaze burning into yours, and sank her teeth into your skin.

“Ow!” you yapped. “What the…”

She tightened her grip on your hand to hold it back. A smirk crept up her lips.

“Bite me,” she said, her mouth hot and damp against your skin. “That’s what you said. So, here.” She did let go of your hand, then. You held it protectively to your chest, smoothing it over your shirt. “Happy to oblige.” She turned away from you.

You watched her in consternation as she bent over her bed, apparently rearranging the pillows. Her teeth had left a row of white marks on your hand. A moment passed, until she straightened up and met your eyes.

“Well, goodnight,” she said, almost teasingly. And with that she sent you off.

**

“You’re still alive,” Coco said in surprise the morning after.

“You’re very observant,” you mumbled, slumping onto the chair next to her. You still felt a bit woolly because of the hydroxyzine. But at least you had slept.

“You’ve been observing our Earth”, sang the female voice from the radio.

“This song will drive me crazy,” you groaned. “Can’t we turn it off?”

“And we’d like to make a contact with you,” the voice retorted.

You straightened your shoulders as Venable walked into the room. Her gaze immediately fell on you. You held it, not sure what to think of the night before, her helping you, her biting you for God’s sake – mechanically you massaged the back of your hand where her teeth had sunk. And those words you had overhead. They had been addressed to someone else, but you couldn’t help but hope she had been talking about you.

You thought you saw something in her eyes, eagerness perhaps, as she walked towards you. She stopped in front of you and tapped her cane on the floor.

“Good-morning,” she said. You gave her a smile in answer, then lowered your eyes to study your nails. You could feel her gaze on your face.

“How did you sleep?” she went on in a casual voice that sounded just a tiny bit strained, as if she were uncomfortable or nervous.

You squinted at her, fighting back an amused smile. “I slept well, thank you.”

You were vaguely aware of the hush that had fallen upon the room. There was more to it, too, some sort of tension, expectant and apprehensive, a holding of one’s breath as one waits for something the nature of which one isn’t really certain of.

“We’ve been observing your Earth, and one night we’ll make a contact with you,” the robotic, distorted alien voice burst out.

“Good,” Venable answered. “I am glad to hear that.”

A pause. The pause stretched.

“Maybe now some of my brain cells will finally kick back into life, “you prompted.

Venable blinked. “We can only hope so,” she answered after a while.

The smile you had been holding back danced across your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Coco shoot you a perplexed look, saw her contort her face as if to ask, “what the hell is happening?”

Venable’s cane tapped on the floor. “Everyone, please,” she called, “I have an announcement to make. Some good news for you all.”

Excited whispers filled the room. You straightened in your seat. Venable waited until she had everyone’s attention, and then spoke with pride in her voice. “To renew with tradition and entertain you, we will now have board games nights. Whist, backgammon, chess.”

Was she… actually trying to be nice? Giving you all something to look forward to? A bit of fun, to help pass the time? You almost gawked at her.

She’s trying, a voice whispered in your head. What was it she had said? Make it acceptable to love her. You were vaguely aware of the tears that sprang to your eyes.

“Excuse me,” Coco blurted out, “I thought you’d said ‘good news’, not ‘you’re now officially living in a shitty Jane Austen novel’.”

Venable glared at her. You caught just a flash of pain in her eyes.  

“I think it’s a good idea,” you retorted before Venable had time to. “It’ll keep our minds distracted.”

“I don’t even know what whist and backgammon are,” said Andre. “And I’ve never played chess.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Venable sneered. “It will be the perfect opportunity to inject some knowledge into your vacuous brain.”

“Not as vacuous as that,” Andre retorted angrily, “seeing as you filled it with my boyfriend’s own brain.”

You had never seen Andre stand up to Venable before. Like the others, he had been too scared of her to dare contradict her. But now his voice was openly belligerent, his eyes shooting daggers at her, and his hands gripped the arms of his chair as if he were contemplating standing up. Something had changed, and it didn’t take you long to realize you were the cause. Or rather, Venable’s behavior to you. You had been insolent to her, and she had not punished you. She had not even verbally abused you.  

“What will it take,” Venable enunciated, “for you to finally understand me when I say that I did not feed you Stu?”

“Then where is he?” Andre growled, jumping to his feet, “And what was in the fucking stew?”

“Alright, okay, calm down,” you spoke, rising too, and holding out a hand in front of Andre. “I’ll teach you chess, okay? I know chess, I can teach you. Just, relax, man. Gosh.”

Andre glared at you. You raised your eyebrows at him. For a minute he stayed still, hands clenched into fists, and then he let out a breath and moved back to his chair.  

Coco threw her hands up in the air. “Board games nights it is,” she said sarcastically.

You turned to Venable. She was studying you, her expression strange, as if she could not quite decide between anger and gratefulness.

“Miss Y/L/N,” she said, her eyes locked with yours, “I do not need your help when it comes to dealing with idiots.”

You took your time to answer, to think of the right words to say. A smile crept up your lips again, and this time you let it.              

And you knew everyone in the room would be able to hear you. But you didn’t care. Blame it on the hydroxyzine. Blame it on the freaking interplanetary and most extraordinary occupants. The world had ended. You were exhausted. And you were falling for her.

When you spoke, your voice was a singsong, as insolent as it had been the evening before. “Why, fuck me, Ms Venable. I know that.”

[torikengel]

Thomas Hewitt x Reader (Part 1)

a/n: thank you so much for your support <3 you make me motivated to continue, parts 2/3 and 4 are already on my profile <3

You were traveling with a group of friends across Texas. You were all from a big city, so they decided to go on a road trip. There were five of you in total, two girls, two guys, and you. At first, you refused to go and wondered why they even bothered taking you because they were two couples and you were just the fifth wheel. Well, you weren’t very familiar with one of the couples, but you knew the other one. At least you knew the girl, cause she was the one to invite you to this trip. It was known that you were well off and they desperately needed more money for gas and food on this trip. You weren’t dumb and it was very clear soon enough that the sum of money you were required to bring was much higher than the one of your so-called friends. So why you decided to go? You thought some adventure in your life wouldn’t hurt and you were yearning for some fresh air outside of the city. And it wouldn’t be bad to make some friends along the way, you thought. But soon you realized that wasn’t going to happen. The boys were eyeing you up and down and the girls weren’t happy about you. You would like to think that you were fairly pretty with an attractive face and a nice body. And since Texas is hot you were simply wearing a tank top and shorts. You were sitting in the back seat, buckled up, and looking out of the window as your companions didn’t seem keen on talking with you. “Hey, Emma, can we stop for a while, I need to go… you know,” said Chloe who was sitting next to you in the back seat with her boyfriend Matt to the driver, Emma. “Sure,” Emma responded slightly annoyed. You stopped in a remote town in the middle of nowhere. It didn’t seem that many people were still living there. Emma drove to the nearest shop and parked. The place was swarming with bikers and as soon as Chloe stepped out of the vehicle they whistled at her. “Wait babe, I am coming too,” Matt said as he spotted their sly smirks and how they hungrily looked at his girlfriend. “Y/n? Are you coming too?” Emma scoffed, “I am definitely not stopping again just because of you.” And she vanished in the shop as her boyfriend Chris followed right after her.

Someone should stay in the car and guard our stuff, you thought for yourself. But you really needed to drink something, so in the end, you grabbed your purse and walked in the store as the bikers kept catcalling you on your way. On your way there you saw Chloe and Matt whispering to each other, well if it could be considered whispering, cause you heard them. “Look at that old hag! Bet she never stepped out of this hell hole. Jeez, this town smells bad.” Chloe laughed and Matt added “Yeah, disgusting, now imagine living here babe, I bet they are all diseased.” You turned to the elderly woman behind the counter, you intuitively knew she could hear everything. You grabbed a soda and went to the counter, “I am very sorry.” You said with your head down as you didn’t dare to look her in the eyes. “Don’t worry ‘bout that darlin’, my family is used to this.” When you finally dared to look at her, you could see that her eyes were traveling up and down, scanning your body. Oh well, your clothes weren’t the most appropriate for this traditional part of Texas. “My name is y/n…” you said giving her the money for your soda. “Please keep the change.” You added as you wanted to vanish into thin air from embarrassment. The change you were talking about was like triple the price of soda. “Oh no, m’dear, I can’t accept that.” She finally smiled at your generosity and politeness. “Please, I insist… Mrs.?” You stuttered. “Luda Mae,” she helped you out. “Mrs. Luda Mae”, you repeated, smiling back at her. “Come already, we don’t have the whole day to wait… or we will leave you here!” Chloe shouted from the car and Emma honked. You jumped up and rushed to them while waving at Luda Mae, cause who knows, they might actually leave you there.

Emma was driving and chatting with her friends, not paying attention to you, even though it was she who invited you on this trip. And not only she wasn’t paying attention to you, but to the road as well, because she didn’t notice the spike strips across the road. Everyone yelped and held their breath when the van slid across the road and fell to the pit on its side… on your side. In the brief moment of despair, you regretted not being buckled up for the first few minutes of the trip. Your cheek smashed on the window that broke into shards, cutting up your skin. The worst part was that both Chloe and Matt fell on top of you as well. You squirmed under their weight but to no avail. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” Emma screamed as she lost control of the vehicle and saw her boyfriend falling head forward on a sharp shard of glass, piercing his flesh. After a few minutes of shock, Emma got out of the car, seemingly okay, and helped Chloe and Matt. After that, they all hurried to help Chris. Nobody cared about you. You could feel the blood gushing out of your wounds on your arm and cheek. In the end, you managed to scramble the last bits of your strength and got out of the car without any help… Emma was in utter shock as she felt that her boyfriend didn’t show any signs of life. You didn’t know how to react, because you didn’t feel any pity. They didn’t help you and wouldn’t mind letting you die there on that backseat. You just shook your head and turned away, confused at what’s about to happen. “What’s wrong with you y/n! You look completely unphase by all this, explain yourself!” Emma screamed at you suddenly, letting out all of her anger on you. Before she could insult you any further you heard police sirens. “Thank god,” she calmed down a bit. Chloe was just shaking in Matt’s arms. The hope you all felt as the police car made its way towards you was slowly exchanged with fear. An older man with a sheriff’s uniform stepped out of the car with a shotgun. “So what do we have here… a bunch of lowly cowards it seems.” He spat on the ground and aimed the gun at you. “Get into the car, now!” he pointed at the police car, “The big guy in the back with two girls and this sexy babe in the passenger seat.” He aimed the shotgun at your head. “Wait, mister Hoyt, there’s my boyfriend still in the van!” Emma walked up to him trembling, apparently not grasping that this man isn’t here to help you. “My, my, do you think I care about your fucking boyfriend, bitch?” he turned down her request and took her by the wrist, “Maybe I will just take you next to me since you are so dumb, you need a lesson.” He tightened his grip on her wrist. “W-wait m-mister.” She stuttered, fear enveloping her. “T-take her instead… I swear we won’t tell anyone; you can do anything you want with her, even kill her, we will make something up, please just don’t hurt us.” She pointed her dirty finger at you and looked at Chloe and Matt, still in a tight embrace. “R-right guys? We won’t tell…” she desperately looked for a sign of approval from them. “Y-yes! We definitely won’t tell! I mean look, she’s way prettier for you sir!” Chloe added, throwing her pride behind her, Matt followed with a quick nod. “My, my what a friend you have,” Hoyt nearly died from laughter. He threw her aside on the hot ground. She slowly exhaled as she thought this was his way of saying yes. “I don’t like these types of bitches.” Without any hesitation, he shot Emma in the leg. She squealed and held her leg close to her, “You old bastard! We had a deal!” He only laughed a bit more before turning to the rest of you. “Now get in the car if you want to live. NOW!” he shouted and aimed the gun at Chloe and Matt who protectively stood in front of Chloe. “We have another hero here it seems.” Another shot followed, straight into Matt’s shoulder. He dropped to his knees in pain. “Who else?” he looked at you. After thinking for a few seconds, you dropped your eyes to the ground and went to the passenger’s seat of Hoyt’s police car. You decided to be smart about it. You didn’t dare to look back at him, all you heard were screams until everything was quiet again. Hoyt dragged your so-called friends’ bodies to the backseat. They were all breathing, just unconscious, their heads bloody. He probably hit them to make them easier to transport. He dragged Chris’s dead body out of the van as well, putting him into the trunk. After that, he sat in the driver’s seat next to you. “Come on, look at me. I don’ bite.” He licked his lips as you turned to face him. “Good girlie.” He said as he pressed some cloth over your nose and lips. You struggled for air, but then finally gave up and passed out as well.

You open your eyes to an unbearable headache which made you wish to never wake up at all. Where am I… shot through your mind as you tried to recall what led to your current situation. Right, your so-called friends tried to use you as their ticket out of this, as a bribe, as if you were a piece of meat. Your eyes were swollen and weak, so it was awfully hard to keep them open. You tried your best to inspect your situation a bit more. You couldn’t move your limbs, that’s for sure. So, you looked around again, adjusting your eyes to the dark atmosphere. It must’ve been a basement of some kind as there were no windows. You could see other metal tables except for the one you were tied to. There were various shiny metal tools around you consisting of cleavers, knives, and other stuff. Then you glanced above you to the ceiling. What you saw made you gag in disgust. Meat hooks, and on them two bodies hanging… Matt and Chloe. Then it hit you… out of confusion and tiredness, you didn’t pay attention to it before, but the whole basement smelled like death, rotting flesh, vomit, blood… everything mixed. Matt was missing half of his body and under him was a pool of blood, he was already dead. Chloe was missing one leg and one arm, seemingly still breathing, but not for long you thought for yourself. Sure, you were scared, because the same thing was going to happen to you, but you felt slight happiness in the back of your mind, no pity to be found. They abandoned you, they emotionally abused you, they used you for money, they would let you be raped and killed in exchange for their pathetic lives. They didn’t care about you. And now, despite their best efforts, you were here, alive, with all of your limbs, breathing while they were all almost dead. You couldn’t help to wonder why you were the last one to be butchered. You smiled for yourself “That’s what you get… even though I am going to be next, I still outlived you for long enough to laugh last.” And also, you didn’t know them before this trip except for Emma who wasn’t there right now. After these thoughts dispersed in your mind, you realized you could hear voices from above you. When you woke up, you were a bit groggy and didn’t pay attention to all of your senses right away. You recognized the female voice; without a doubt, it was Emma squealing in pain and disgust. “Let me go, let me go you ugly old bastard!” she screamed so loud it was piercing your ears. Instead of pitying her, it was more annoying to you, because you wanted the last minutes of your life to be as peaceful as possible. “Shut up, stupid bitch, or I will make you!” a familiar voice shouted back. Hoyt. Yeah, it must’ve been that guy, Sheriff Hoyt. Even though you assumed he wasn’t the real sheriff. You figured out what was happening upstairs. From the moment you met this Hoyt guy, you knew he was a pervert and a violent one. Even though he spared you in a way when he didn’t shoot you, well, you complied so he had no reason to. Then you realized that you checked your surroundings to the best of your ability while you didn’t even look at the state you were in. Your wrists and ankles hurt real bad. The leather cuffs were rubbing tightly against your sensitive red skin. Your cheek hurt as well as your arm. You weren’t sure if the glass shards were still in your arm or if someone took them out. You tried to position yourself in a way you could see the cut. It was deep and your skin was all bruised. Your whole body felt squished and sore, because of how Matt and Chloe fell on you during the accident. You were so tired… the screams above you got quieter and quieter each second as you fell into sleep again.

Loud footsteps in the basement woke you up and when you managed to lift your eyelids a huge man was towering over your lying body. He was wearing a bloody apron, shirt, and tie… very neat you thought for yourself. He smelled bad and there was a human-like mask on his face. He had greasy black hair that reached to his shoulders and partially hid his face. What captured your attention were his piercing blue eyes. He was scanning you, but you did the same as you stared deep into his eyes. He expected you to try to jump up, squirm, or make disgusted faces. He was used to it. All his life people called him names and bullied him, from his childhood to his teen years, and while he worked in the factory as an adult. He was always a monster, animal, disgusting freak in their eyes. Women made gagging noises when they saw him and then laughed in his face. Men picked on him, tried to fight him to get him in trouble. He suffered through it all until he finally unleashed all the pain and anger. Since then he saw people as either family or food, there was nothing in-between. You could see it in his eyes, the awaiting of your scream. But it never came, even after you noticed the cleaver in his hand. You had a neutral expression on your face while watching him. The pain was undeniable in his eyes. He wanted you to scream as it made it easier, so much easier… if you just called him a freak, if you tried to spit in his face… too easy. Finally, your lips parted, air leaving your mouth as you exhaled. He hated it, everything you did, he hated it because you made it hard. You had a beautiful face, perfect skin, attractive body, silky h/c hair, and shiny e/c eyes. You looked like one of the girls that would make fun of him and kick him again when he was already down. All the memories kept flooding into his mind as he raised the cleaver and prepared to swing. Now he expected you to squirm, shout and plead for your life, to at least cry or call him something nasty. But you peacefully smiled at him. “This is my end isn’t it?” you accepted your fate from the moment you woke up for the first time in this basement. You closed your eyes and prepared for the pain that would inevitably come with the blow. The man was confused like never in his life. Your sweet smile towards him melted his resolve. Here he was standing, all bloody with a cleaver ready to end your life and your perfect form was just lying under him in a dignified position without regrets. His eyes were full of sorrow. Nobody smiled at him before, laughed yes, mocked him too, but he never got that smile, smile without any prejudice in your then open eyes. There was no pain, just a wet feeling on your hurt cheek. For the first time, you yelped at the sudden touch and shot your eyes open again. There he was, standing over you, wiping the dry blood off your face with a wet rug. He stepped back, startled by your reaction. You could see how hurt he was… you couldn’t believe yourself. In this situation, with a murderer in a room with you, your instinct was telling you to pity him more than the couple hanging from the meat hooks. ”Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that; I just didn’t expect it… thank you.” You murmured under your breath. His eyes widened, first that innocent smile, now the honest tone in your voice as you apologized for being held captive. “My name is y/n. But I guess you don’t need to know that as you know…” your eyes pointed to the cleaver that was on the other table now. He didn’t say anything, but he shook his head. You didn’t know if that meant you would be spared or that he was content with knowing your name, you figured it was the latter though. After he calmed down, he stepped up again to clean your face and arm. You hissed a bit, but he knew it wasn’t at him, but at the pain. You didn’t know why he did all that when you are certainly going to be killed, if not by this man then by that Hoyt.

“What’s your name, if you don’t mind?” you broke the awkward silence. He shrugged, not replying. “You can’t speak?” you figure it wouldn’t hurt to ask and you wanted to know if he couldn’t or simply didn’t want to talk. You got a slight nod from him. “I see… But I can try and guess if you help me.” You came up with a solution. “I will say the alphabet and when I will get to the first letter of your name, you should touch the palm of my hand.” He seemed unsure but nodded again in the end. “A, B, C…” you continued until you got to T. He softly put a finger on your palm. “T…” you repeated, “That could be Tim, Tony, Thomas.” You wanted to continue, but he grabbed your finger when you said Thomas. “Thomas… Tommy.” You smiled at him. You didn’t know what got into you, but you were enjoying this sweet, tender moment. He was very gentle with you and didn’t kill you yet. Maybe it was because of how different your behavior was from everyone else.

He didn’t believe it. What was he doing, what were you doing, what were you doing to him? You were supposed to be another meal, just food, a piece of meat. But he couldn’t treat you like that when you were the first person outside of his family who treated him like a human being, without disgust and hate. Even Charlie and Monty sometimes treat him like a dog. He could sense that you were sincere. Some girls tried to seduce him before to save their lives and then stab him in the back. Once he fell for it, only for the first time though, he learned his lesson. But you didn’t try, you accepted that you were going to die here, and he couldn’t bring himself to end your life on his own.

“Damn what’s taking you so long down there, boy?” Hoyt opened the door to the basement and threw something on the stairs. “Don’ tell me you were able to finally man up?” Thomas seemed to be a bit lost, but you knew what he meant by that. “Anyhow, I am finished with it, it’s all yours now.” Hoyt pointed on the floor. You weren’t sure what he threw in the basement until now. It was Emma and she was still alive. Her mouth taped shut and hands tied behind her back. Hoyt descended into the basement and got rid of the tape on her lips. “You liked it bitch, didn’t ya?” he squeezed her cheeks and put a finger into her open mouth. She bit him as soon as she got the chance. A loud slap followed and he walked back up cussing her out. Hoyt was so focused on his finger, that he didn’t seem to care about why you were still alive. “Oh y/n! Help me, help me, please!” she trembled and smiled at you in disbelief. She obviously thought you were dead. Then she looked around to see her dead friends and screamed. Thomas grabbed her with his huge hands ready to hang her on the meat hook next to her friends. “You ugly fat bastard, let me go, stop it, you animal!” she kicked him wherever she could with both of her legs as they were tied together. You couldn’t hold back your laughter. However, your laughter stabbed Thomas in the back. So, you were the same after all. He thought about it and then realized it was for the better. But then you spoke “She looks like a fish out of the water, doesn’t she?” you giggled a bit more and then finally stopped. Thomas smiled under his mask before he realized what were the consequences. You indirectly stood up to him and it was funny and clever as well. “What… why would you laugh y/n? We are both going to die you dumb slut!” as the last word left her lips a shriek of pain echoed as Thomas stabbed the hook into her back. With the last strength, she spat in his face. “F-filthy animal, m-murderer, you and your damn fucking family can all burn in hell…” she mumbled. “I bet he would be a better friend than you.” Before she could come up with a comeback of any kind, he slit her skull with a cleaver. He grabbed a chainsaw and started dismembering her. You actively watched, fascinated by the situation. You weren’t a sadist, not at all, but it just all seemed like a weird nightmare to you. Maybe you passed out during the car crash and you are still dreaming. However, the smell of blood brought you back into reality. After Thomas was done, he turned back to you, freshly bloodied. He expected to see a disgusted face, tears, fear. He did it on purpose… to make you scream, to make you hate him like everyone else. “To be honest… she deserved it. Imagine, she tried to give me to Hoyt to save herself. She wouldn’t mind killing me.” You shrugged as you were very stiff from holding your head on the side. 

No, no, no, no, no… it was all wrong. Thomas’ heart raced as he looked at you in disbelief, your e/c eyes piercing his soul. You saw him kill your friend, well at the very least your companion and then you also witnessed al the gory stuff that came with it, but you looked unphased, maybe a bit satisfied with his work... you didn’t scream, didn’t curse, didn’t hate him. He grabbed the cleaver and held it above you, then swung and…

[daddynegandesires]

Secrets chapter 3

Summary: ellies birthday and mothers day is coming up as emotions and pent up anger are spiraling between you, negan, and jack while more and more secrets begin to unfold.

18+

Warming: nsfw, fluff, kink, depression, abuse

Sorry for the late update on this chapter its kind of a short one ive just have been going through some personal things and havent found the motivation to finish this one yet.❤ i hope you all like it!❤

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You and negan haven't spoke in a few days ellies birthday is today and you have been busy decorating. Negan is suppose to be picking up the cake at the store. jack has returned back from his "business trip" withq an odd hickey on his neck that keeps gawking at you everytime you speak to him. You want to avoid conflict because you arent so innocent yourself after what happen with negan last time you saw him but thats just not who you are....you have to confront him but you also dont want to ruin ellies day infront of everyone.

"Hey jack, do you mind helping me with this streamer" you called out to him from the ladder

"Sure hun" he took the streamer from your hand taping it up to the wall

"Thank you.....uh negan should be here soon with her cake" you said folding up the step ladder

"I could of went and grabbed it" he scoffs

"I uh..well sorry i didnt know it was a big deal" you try to laugh it off politely

"Dont even worry about it...." He walks past you ramming his ahoulder into you heading outside

Negan had arrive with the cake and so did a few of ellies friends and your mother. You and your mothers relationship really has never been that great but you try to make peace with it for ellies sake. Negan came in with a huge gift box all wrapped in pink with a bow.

" i thought we agreed nothing crazy" you whispered to him

"Whaat...can i not spoil my girl" negan grins at you

Ellie runs out of her room her eyes light up at the size of the gift her dad got her.

"Mommy look at this...its humongo!" She says messing with the bow

"I see honey..dont mess with it yet" you giggle

"Where is your boy toy.." His tongue slides across his bottom lip

You kept silent while negan stared you down waiting for a response but nothing came out his eyes were burning a hole through you he always knew when shit was up.

"Ah i see....the silent treatment" folding his arms

Negan walks off to go play with ellie and say hello to a few people when your mother walks up to you.

"Hey mom..." You say emotionless

"What is negan doing here.." She asks

"Mom...please dont. Thats ellies dad. I told you we are trying to work on things for ellies sake" you say annoyed.

"Well...once a cheater always a cheater. Im just saying" as she sips on her cup of wine walking away

A few hours have passed and ellie got to blow out her candles and eat cake. Jack still hasnt said much to you throughout the whole party and its more than obvious that negan is starting to catch on im just hoping he doesn't notice the hicky on his neck. Ellie has been bugging you about negans gift so you were going to let her open it.

"Ellie open it up over here sweetie so everyone can see" you say smiling

Ellie quikly rips the hot pink rapping paper off and squeals in excitement as she realizes its a electric scooter that she has been wanting. Negan was standing by your side with his hand sneakily rested on your lower back with a huge smile on his face.

"Oh my god you got me that scooter!!" Ellie begins jumping up and down

"Negan....those cost alot" you whispered in his ear

"dont worry about it....i got it taken car of" he says sternly

"Lets take it outside!!" Negans runs over and picks it up in excitment with all of the kids following him outside to ride on the scooter. You were throwing away dirty plates when jack came up to you

"So you want to explain why you and negan have been so close" he quietly says to you

You instantly start to burn with rage as he asks you that knowing he has been keeping things from you too and the fact his assistant melissa has been speaking to him inappropriately. You were holing the knife in your hand for cutting the cake reminding you of the incident that happened between you and negan once you found out he was cheating. you froze and gripped tightly on the knife thinking of how to approach this.

"You're a fucking whore..." He spat at you

"Jack.....get the fuck away from me" you quietly say

"Yeah i bet thats what you want.....so he can fuck you" he says through gritted teeth

"Its. Ellies. Birthday.....fucking knock it off we can settle this later" you slowly set the knife down unclenching your fist

Jack stands there glaring at you with his jaw clecnhed before giving up and walking away. You let out a sigh of relief and pour yourself a glass of wine. You take a sip closing your eyes feeling like everything is going in slomotion in that moment when you here yelling outside and notice its negan and jack. You drop your glass spilling your wine everywhere running outside.

"Back the fuck off man!" Jack yells with his fist balled up

"Ohh...you really want to go there dude..." Negan laughs

"You are fucking (y/n) and i know it!" Jack lunges towards him throwing a punch hitting negan in the face making him stumble

Negan catches his balace reaching up to his face touching where jack punched him in the mouth realizing he is bleeding negan licks the blood off his lips and lets out a sinister almost scary deep chuckle.

"Oh...you fucked up." Negan lunges towards jack football tackling him to the ground he starts punching jack over and over again blood all over his fists

"Negan!!!...no! Stop!" You rush over trying to pry negan off of jack

"Negan stop for ellie please!" You begin to cry struggling to finally get him off causing you to fall backwards with negan on you

"You are a dead fucking man!....now get the fuck off my property..." Negan threats

You push negan off to go check on jack you try to get jack to respond to you and see if he is okay but he just spits in your face shoving you away causing you to fall before you know it negan charges back over and starts beating the shit out of him all you can do is scream at them and cry. Through tear filled eyes you notice the cops rushing up the street pulling into the drive way the last thing you remember is the cops pulling negan off and everything went black.

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Jack and negan were both arrested but were soon let go apparently i had fainted due to stress and dehydration they kept me in the hospital until i was better. You kicked jack out of the house and you haven't spoke to negan since ellies birthday. Things have been rough being alone for ahwile and ellie was getting upset about not seeing her dad.

Text from negan:

Hey....im coming by

You looked at your phone to see a text from negan but you just ignored it and continued to cook some food for ellie. There was a knock at the door you sighed annoyingly before unlocking the deadbolt and opening the door to negans innocent brown eyes staring back at you. before you could give him a chance to speak you shut the door in his face but he quickly caught it in time with his foot in the doorway before it closed.

"Negan...ellie should be home. She is still upset" you sigh

"Thats okay i want to make it up to you two" he says pushing the door open coming inside

You just stand there silent with your arms crossed untill you hear ellies bus coming down the road and before you know it she busts through the door yelling.

"Mommmyyyy! Happy mothers dayzz!" Ellies runs up to you handing you a picture she made at school

"Awe...thank you sweet heart its gorgeous" you took the pink paper from her smiling and when to hang it on the fridge

"Look i want to take you two out to dinner...its mothers day and you deserve it..look i know i fucked up but that asshole had it coming" negan says

"Negan dont.....go ask Ellie she is the real one you need to be apologizing to not me" you stare at the ground avoiding eye contact.

"Ohh ellie daddy wants to talk to you!" He walks off to her room

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You, negan, and ellie were all out at dinner at your favorite steakhouse enjoying your meal when the waiter brought a bottle of wine

"Negan....i cant afford that" you quietly say

"Ah ah....you deserve it i mean you are the best mom ever" he winks at you popping the lid off pouring wine into your glass

"Thanks..." You shyly say before taking a sip

"So.....the school fired me" negan cleared his throat

You choked on your drink hearing the words that had just came out of negans mouth

"What?..how come" you say wipping wine off your chin

"Well....they dont want me as a coach anymore since what happened at ellies birthday. They say its wildly inappropriate and against policy to still have me there" he bites in his steak

"What are you going to do..." You ask worried

"Ohhh no biggie i always have things taken care of" he smiles at you

"If you need anything im here..." You look up at him

" i know....thank you" he reaches across the table holding your hand

The three of you finish up dinner afterwards you all go for a late walk through the park. It felt nice to get out and have some fresh air after what happended at the party. Your phone kept buzzing off the hook of texts from jack you kept trying to hide it from negan to not let him worry. You felt bad hiding it from negan but you knew it would start a fight but you also didnt want to let jack go without some talking. Negan took you and ellie back home ellie ran inside and got ready for bed.

"I know he is talking to you..." Negan says sternly while placing one hand against the wall beside your head

"Negan....can we not talk about this right now" you say turning your head away from him

"No!...you will look at me when im speaking to you" negan grabs ahold of your chin forcing you to look at him

"Yes....yes im still talking to him.." You say embarassed

"Why....he is such a load of whoreshit....im standing right infront of you (y/n)...im here now! Take me back please. Im an honest man now!" Negan growls

" get...off of me!" You scream and shove him away from you and begin to walk angrily down the road

"(Y/n) get back here now!...where the fuck do you think you are going!" Negan trys to catch up with you when it suddenly starts raining

"Negan stop trying so hard!...this is going nowhere!" You say crying

"Why do you keep saying that!...i want this to work!" Negan finally catches up to you grabbing you by the arm spinning you around

"......well i dont..." You choked on those words as they slipped out of your mouth it felt like your heart had just stopped for a split second it killed you to say that to negan but it had to be done

"You....dont want this." He said quietly and upset with rain drops running down his perfect face

"Negan....i.... I cant. You have to let me go" you say caressing his face" you said giving him a half smile with a single tear rolling down your cheek

"W....what about ellie.....thats my babygirl" Negan begans to tear up pulling you into a hug

"You can still be in ellies life.....i start therapy next tuesday" you say ending the hug

"You can talk to me (y/n)" negan sniffles

"There are just things that just feel easier letting out to a stranger sometimes..."

"I love you....." Negan says bresthlessly

"....i love you too but from a distance.....i have boundaries set now negan"

You and negan began to walk back to the house getting inside you hand him a towel to dry himself off. Negan follows you to the bedroom.

"There are still some of your clothes in the closet...." You say facing away from him

"You still have some of my old clothes here...." Negan opens the door seeing his shirts still hanging in the same spot before he moved out

"I didnt know if you still wanted them or not..." You say nervously

"Its okay. Thank you" negan takes off his soaking wet shirt switching it out with an old faded band shirt

"You can sleep on the couch if you would like..." You offer him

"You sure you are going to be okay with that?" He raises an eyebrow at you

"Yeah....plus its been lonely here just me and ellie" you chuckle handing him a blanket

Negan takes the blanket from you before turing around to open the bedroom door to leave. As soon as the door shut you quietly sobbed making sure it wasnt loud enough for negan to hear. You wiped your tears away before getting yourself ready for bed. You tossed and turned for most of the night your head filled with unnecessary thoughts and cenarios. You just wanted all of this pain to go away you dont know what you are doing with yourself anymore the only thing that keeps you holding on is ellie and negan.

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[stvrs13]

" I love her but she hates me "

summary: Ellie and y/n have been enemies for 2 years but they secretly have feelings for each other.

warnings: a lil smut maybe nothing to serious ( help-) , swearing

a/n: alright this is my first smut and im new to writing so no judgements! 🙌

You were walking on the snow when you saw a beanie, you picked it, realizing it belongs to the one and only ellie, your ex bestfriend, your enemy, and of course the one you have secretly have feelings for.. you sigh, debating whether or not to give it back to her but it all answers when you walk towards the corner of the street on her direction, you waved awkwardly. " hey ellie, uh i found this on the snow. " you said nervously. she glanced at dina and back to you with a serious look on her face. " what a joke " she said while getting her beanie off of your hands with a super human speed. she then walk away and dina follows her, leaving you standing on your position. mental facepalm! this was a bad idea, you thought to yourself.

You walked towards your best friend who was sitting on a bench playing with her fingers, Nancy, you sat beside her. " what happened? did she said something to you again? " she said. " uh its not biggy just found her beanie that's all. " you said, slightly frowning. Nancy notices it and asked, " hey you good there? " " actually can we talk about something? somewhere private? " you said, making an eye contact with your fav person (oh really? 😉) across you, there stood Ellie so close to Dina. You immediately lost it and walk away with your bestfriend following you.

You went at the back of a coffee shop and you both sat on the snow under a tree, looking at the dark skies, " so what's up? " she said. You started crying, tears fell free on your cheeks. " oh my gosh, are you okay? " she asked, worried. " its just that- " you hid your face on your knees, " i can't deny it, its always been her, its always. " you whisper the last part. " what do you mean? " nancy asked. " i love her nancy, i do and i just dont wanna do it anymore, i tried letting her go but fuck i cant, i cant stop thinking about her! every time i see her, i felt anger and hurt but also butterflies over my stomach, fuck this. why in the world im the only person inlove with my enemy! i hate this, but i just gotta accept the truth that she hates me, i love her but she hates me. " you said with a shaky voice. Nancy just rub your back, making you feel comfortable, she has nothing to say. to surprise to say something.

" holy fuck " ellie whispered under her breath, she was hiding behind the wall. joy filling her heart.

- 2 years ago -

" cat! look at this. " you said while standing outside the balcony. cat went into your direction. " woah " cat said with a wide eyes. you both saw a beautiful view of the mountains. " its pretty " " i know rig- " just before you could finish your sentence

a stalker came out of the other door and push you to the railings. you stabbed it with your pocket knife but its still alive, it keeps pushing you harder on the railing, " cat help me! " you yell. cat tried to stab it with her switchblade but before she could stab it, the stalker push you down, you hold onto cat but you three fall off the balcony. " shit!! " you yell. you land on your back while cat land on her elbow. the stalker was above you, you stab it again and again until you heard a gunshot, the bullet hit on the stalker's head. it falls on your side, leaving you breathless. you looked at cat who's trying hard to stand and you looked at the person who shot the stalker's head, its ellie. you quickly got up and help cat up. as she stands up, she wince. " my elbow broke " she winced again. ellie walks towards the both of you and says, " what the fuck y/n?! " she practically yells at you. you stood there, nothing to say until you felt a fist on your face. Ellie punched you. you were in shocked but you ran away and ride on your horse. " fuck you!! " ellie yells. Ellie and Cat followed you, ellie is mad at you right now even though cat telling her its not your fault. As you arrived at jackson, you wiped away the tears and the blood dripping on your nose. You dismounted your horse and take it back to the stables. You pet your horse awhile and as you turn around, you were slammed on the ground.

" motherfucker! why did you pull her with you?! " ellie yells. " its not her fault ellie. " cat says. " i- im sorry i didn't mean to- " " bullshit " ellie was about to punch you again when maria and joel stop her. tommy helps you up, blood dripping your nose and a black eye. great. tears falling down from your eyes as ellie look at you with anger in her green eyes. maria, cat and ellie went into maria and tommy's office to talk. while joel and tommy helps you clean your face. once you were done, you three went to maria, joel and tommy left the room and now its all four of you confronting. ellie,cat,maria, and you. you felt hurt, and sad. You talked about what happened and of course ellie sometimes yells at you and maria had to stop her. as the talk went cleared. Ellie can't stop staring at you, your nervous. she has a blank face when she stares at you, Ellie wanted to talk to you, apologizing for being a dick but she's stubborn but also afraid of you rejecting her. So she just did nothing and hid on her corner. She also felt a hole in her heart for you make her feel someting more than friends even though she had a girlfriend. And that, you two never talk, hangout and even maria doesn't let you both go on patrol together so you both were hiding on your corners.

- end of flashback -

" are you sure ellie? i dont think she wo- " ellie cuts maria off by saying, " i dont care maria, just tell her we're paired for patrol. " she demands. maria just sighs in defeat as she nods. Ellie then prepares herself for patrol and something 😉

- afternoon -

" hey maria, you need me to go on patrol? " you asked. " yes and actually you'll be paired with ellie. " she hesitantly said that. You looked behind maria to see ellie leaning against the wall staring at you. " but- " " no buts, you both will go to the mountain over there. " she point out the small mountain. you sighed, why us? you thought to yourself. Maria then nods at ellie and said " keep safe " to the both of you. When she disappears, you look at ellie who is staring at you, you brought out a shy smile. she just nods then walk towards shimmer (ellie's horse) as you do the same. You both got up on your horses and went out from jackson. the entire time was quiet, it disturbs you, its so uncomfortable, its weird, you wanna get back to jackson- you were cut off of your thoughts by ellie saying " check in is inside that cabin. " you looked at her with a kind smile. she blushes, she what?! maybe just the cold wind making her face a little red. You both stay in silent until you reach a small cabin. You got off from your horse while ellie ties shimmer in a tree, you did what she did. She opens the small cabin and it reveals a cozy living room, you took both of your jackets into the couch and you look around admiring the living room while ellie was busy going somewhere inside the cabin. She saw 2 bedrooms in the hallway, she open the other one and it reveal a queen size bed, she smirked. " y/n.. come here " she growls. you walk towards the hallway, fear rising in you. what does she have to do now? you thought. you saw ellie standing on the door of a bedroom with her hand gripping the doorknob, you went inside and admire the beautiful bedroom until you heard the door slam shut. before you could even look at the door, ellie push you through the wall. gripping her hands on your waist tightly. she look into your e/c (eye color) and quickly looks at your lips, asking for permission. you slowly nod, at first you thought she was gonna kill you but oh boy your dreams are coming true. she smashed her lips onto yours, slipping her tounge on your lips, you moaned. it only fuel things up when ellie removed her upper buttons on her flannel, revealing her chest. it was a sloppy kiss, she practically throw you in the bed and got on top of you, she then kiss and suck your neck, leaving love bites, you moaned, feeling your clit throbbed under your jeans and ellie sucking your neck, gosh this is ethereal. " ellie.." she looks at you, her lips still on your neck " we cant do this. " you frowned. she stop and sits on her heels while you sat and leaned in the headboard. she looked at you, tears on your eyes, she sighs. " im sorry " you said weakly. " we shouldn't be doing this " your tears falling now on your cheeks. she put her hand on yours, you look at her, you got surprise when her eyes were filled with tears and sadness. " look y/n, i've heard what you said to nancy earlier and i can't deny that i felt the same way on you. " she paused. " but you hate me? " " actually no, this entire fucking years made me felt nothing but regret and guilt. i can't stop thinking about you, it drives me fucking crazy. " she said. you looked into her eyes again, fear and guilt shown in her gorgeous eyes. you can't believe it, ellie feels the same way. you smiled at her and said, " i love you ellie " realizing to what you said, " i love you too y/n, a lot. " she said with a wide smile on her face. " wanna finish what we've started earlier? " she smirked. you laughed and laid back while she got on top of you again, savouring every moment.

a/n: jeez that's idk anyway, sorry for not posting sooner, i've been a little busy on school and sometimes my lazy ass gets me. hope you enjoy this story! dont forget to like and reblogged for motivation 😹

@akami-senpai, @ellieswife, @gayerforelliewilliams 🌈✨

[bearlytolerant]

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Bethany x Alistair (Bethistair)

Rating: T

Ch WC: 3115

AO3

Chapter 4

He was dreaming the most wonderful dream. He was old, he could tell by the amount of wrinkles on his hand. Her also. She had the same wrinkles in her skin as his as he held her, staring out over the lake. The sun was just setting and it was warm. Summer, it must have been. It was beautiful, almost as beautiful as her. Elissa smiled at him, her face clear as day and leaned into his shoulder. He kissed her forehead. They remained that way for what seemed an eternity and then—

He had to piss. Nothing was as jarring as that feeling after a nice dream. Alistair went about his business, the dream fading even though he’d clung to it desperately.

He crawled back into his bed. Squeezed his eyes shut. If he could just go back to sleep, he could be with her again. He pulled the blanket tighter. Burrowed himself in its dark and let himself be hollow. The day could start without him right?

He never slept.

Just sort of curled up into himself and let his mind lecture him instead.

Get out of bed Alistair.

No matter how many times his mind told him to get out of bed or tried to entice him with life’s beautiful delights, including the promise of spring, there seemed to be this external invisible force pressing him further into his mattress and he couldn’t get it off. That sudden urge to cry came over him again. Maker, would it ever end?

Clattering by his bed and Alistair groaned. Why hadn’t he written a decree stating that not a single soul could be in his castle excluding his son and the healer?

“I brought you some breakfast. The servants claim you haven’t been eating.”

Great. Somebody had called in the calvary. He clung even tighter to his blanket.

“Alistair. You can’t just lie in bed all day.”

He heard Anora sigh. A bit dramatic in his opinion.

He mentally prepared for her to yell at him or give him a stern talking to. She never came to the castle otherwise.

“Trust me. If I could have just lain in bed all day after Cailan passed, I would have. I understand how you must feel. But you’re not doing anyone any good by not eating. You want to waste away? Leave Bryce without either of his parents?”

The Maker knew his brain was useless for getting him out of bed so he’d thought it’d be comical to send Anora instead. He should count himself lucky.

Light blinded him as the blanket was ripped away. He should’ve clutched it tighter. Blankets these days were as precious as pearls.

“Get up. We’re going to the lake.”

He balked, shrinking away, scrambling for a cozy shadow. “But I don’t want to,” Alistair whined.

“But you’re going to. So sit up. Eat. Get your big boy pants on and meet me at the front gate in an hour. Or so help me I will drag you out of this bed myself and spoon feed you.”

He dared to glance at Anora. She was serious, of course. She shoved a glass of orange juice at him. He eyed it suspiciously as she rolled her eyes and forced it into his hands.

“Now drink,” she commanded.

He hesitated more out of defiance than anything. “I could have you thrown from court for how you’re speaking to me. Could even put your head on a pike.” Emphasis on the last word had to have sounded threatening.

Her eyes nearly rolled out of her head that time. “For Andraste’s sake Alistair, don’t be so morbid.” She shook her head and muttered something about an insufferable little brother. She handed him a piece of buttered toast next.

“Where am I supposed to put that?”

“In your mouth.”

He glared. Drank his juice and traded the empty glass for the toast. He took the world's smallest bite out of it and chewed. And chewed. And chewed. After he swallowed, Anora patted him on the cheek.

“There, wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Why are you here?” Alistair asked.

She cleaned the dirt from her nails with a brush she seemingly pulled out of nowhere. “Fergus has been concerned so he sent for me. He knows you listen to my council.”

Alistair scoffed. “More like I let you boss me around.”

“Interesting choice of words.”

After all this time, Alistair still wanted to stick his tongue out at some point in every interaction with her. He shoved his toast in his mouth instead. He didn’t miss that coy smirk on her face either.

She rose and strutted towards the door. “I’ll be seeing you in a short while. Oh, and do wear something comfortable.”

She exited like she was leading an army. Alistair glanced down at his nightshirt. A miserable army of one. He managed to finish half his breakfast and throw on some clothes before the time allotted to him. Though, his main motivator at that point was getting to check on Bryce before he went on an excursion with Anora.

He spotted Bethany and he froze. She should be at breakfast like every other morning when he visited Bryce. And he had been avoiding her for nearly a month, successfully, ever since what he referred to as the incident. He had half a mind to turn around and walk right back out that door.

“Oh good morning,” she said. She was even smiling. Then she motioned him over. Did she not remember him losing his shit over roses? “He’s been having longer periods of wakefulness. Though, he still often calls me his mum.”

All thought of embarrassing incidents, anxieties and what have you dispersed when he heard that. “He calls you mum? Does he not realize…” Alistair didn’t want to say it.

She shook her head and adjusted Bryce’s pillow, smoothed out his blanket. “You may or may not have to remind him. I wouldn’t worry about it now. It’s still too soon to tell whether his memory is affected long term. Of the patients I’ve seen sharing his condition, many have suffered from short term memory loss. I have rarely seen otherwise.”

Rarely. The word wasn’t lost on him. Alistair didn’t think he could explain her death to Bryce again. Maker, wasn’t once enough? He shuddered at the thought and Bethany’s hand was over his.

“Really, you shouldn’t worry.” She squeezed his hand then let it go.

Shouldn’t worry.

Good advice but his heart couldn’t take it. Alistair leaned over and kissed his son’s forehead. “I love you,” he murmured. Then pulled back.

“I will return again after dinner. I’d like to read him some things.”

Bethany nodded. “I think that’s an excellent idea.” She smiled gently at him and the thought crossed him that she had a very pretty smile. Not that he should notice such a thing. Maker, what was he thinking? Hadn’t he just dreamed of his wife this morning? Now he was admiring another woman’s smile?

Forgive me.

He rushed away from Bethany before he thought something else he shouldn’t possibly think.

—

He really didn’t want to be at the lake. Too many bad memories. Too much guilt. Too few enjoyments. And it was cold. Not quite Ferelden winter cold but the wind had a bite and nipped at the tips of his ears. He ticked the reasons off one by one, keeping his worries at bay with complaints until Anora interrupted his thoughts, shoving a fishing rod into his hands. He’d rather try aiming for fish with a bow and arrow. Fishing with a rod was a slow, agonizing way to catch fish, one in which he was left to marinate in his morose musings.

“Already has a worm. Do you prefer to fish off shore or…”

Neither. He didn’t like fishing at all. It was by far one of the most boring and wretched past times he’d ever encountered.

“Shore it is,” she decided for him.

“I don’t like fishing,” he said. But plodded after her anyway.

“Oh, I know. But I do. I find it quite relaxing.”

“Then why not go by yourself? Bringing me along with you seems the opposite of relaxing.”

“I should confess then, I did not bring you along for my benefit.” She cast her line.

“I already mentioned I don’t like fishing. Did you have a lapse in hearing?”

“My hearing is excellent. The benefit is you getting out of bed, getting some sun and fresh air while putting your duties for the day off for a few more hours. Perhaps it would be a good time for you to take your mind off things.”

Her motives were good, he could admit but they were absolute bollocks. The sky was overcast and looked like it would burst into tears at any moment. How was he supposed to get any sun? And if the fresh air was going to smell like fish, especially dead fish, he didn’t want it.

Alistair sighed and attempted to cast his own line. He got it tangled up in the reeds along the shore. Then he cursed and threw the rod on the ground. “Blast! I think I’d do better wrangling fish out of the water with my bare hands.”

Anora sniggered. “What a sight that would be.”

“I’m going to take a walk.”

“No, no!” She grabbed his cloak sleeve. “Stay. If it helps you can talk and I’ll try my very best to listen.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “I—no. I’m good. No need for a talk.”

Not that he didn’t want to talk. Talking would probably do him good. But he couldn’t think of anyone to talk to. Fergus maybe. Though Alistair didn’t feel like he could be honest without diminishing his grief. Ferguson had been through far worse and he didn’t seem to struggle to get himself together. It intimidated him.

“Fine. Have it your way.” She picked up his rod then and fixed his line, casting it for him. She placed it back in his hands. “I’m really sorry for your loss Alistair. However, being so sullen doesn’t suit you or your kingdom. I’m not saying you can’t grieve, just maybe try keeping it contained, hm?”

Alistair closed his eyes. “And how do you propose I just contain my sullenness?”

“Try fishing for starters.”

He wanted to mock her in a tiny man child voice but he refrained. Thankfully he had Morrigan as a traveling companion long enough to train him in the art of biting his tongue. As well as shoving his foot straight into his mouth but that was another story for another day.

He fished silently alongside her wishing desperately to be back with Bryce. The fresh air didn’t feel any different than the drafty castle. The sun was nice at least, when it decided to make an appearance. But the sky was looking more sullen by the minute and the wind was picking up.

“Isn’t this a terrible time to fish?” he asked.

“Any time is a good time to fish,” Anora said.

“I don’t think that’s true. I remember there were certain times fish were more likely to bite.”

“We’re not here for dinner,” Anora snapped.

“So we’re just dipping worms in water for what? Fun? Sounds like torture.” He reeled his line in and studied the sad soggy worm on the hook. “Aw see? Now the poor little worm is a goner. I’ll have to make it a little worm grave.” He removed the worm and set his pole in the crook of some driftwood.

“Stop being ridiculous.”

“I won’t stop until you let me go back to my bed.”

“You know, I was quite fond of Lady Cousland. She was much better at fishing than you.”

“She was much better than me at a lot of things.”

“She was at that.” Anora got a bite on her line. She tugged her rod and reeled it in. No trouble at all.

Alistair sat on the driftwood with his chin in his hands. “I don’t mean to be so morose. I just miss her. I miss her terribly.”

Anora unhooked the fish–a cute little perch–and tossed it back into the water. She set her own pole aside and sat next to Alistair.

“I miss her terribly too,” Anora said.

“You do?”

“Yes. Is that really so surprising? I’d miss you too, even though you’re quite the lummox.”

“Aww,” Alistair placed a hand over his heart, “such warm fuzzy feelings, right here.”

“Must you always act like this?”

“Only with you. One day you’ll come to appreciate it. I–I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye and I’m glad you and Elissa became close after–well after everything. You could have found a clever way to toss us from the throne but you didn’t.”

“Not yet anyway. I could still.”

Alistair allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. Then he cupped his hands around his mouth. “Treason!”

Anora clamped her hand over his. “You are such a child!”

A sort of chuckle snort escaped from Alistair as Anora placed her hands back in her lap. He noticed she could smile too. “I’d still like to take a walk. You could come with me, if you wanted. I promise I won’t run away or do anything stupid.”

She nodded. “I’d like to keep fishing. But do be back in time for dinner. I can’t keep you out forever.”

Alistair nodded and stood. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Anora was taken aback. “An honest thank you? With no snide remark? I–well you’re welcome then I suppose. Now shoo, enjoy the fresh air.”

Alistair went without further ado. Surprisingly, it did him some good. But when he entered the castle later that day to attend to his duties, his heart seemed heavy again.

–

Bethany wasn’t exactly sure if she should be in the room when Alistair came back. He had been dodging her since the garden. But she was tired and the fire was cozy. She also enjoyed seeing this side of the King and had missed him–no missed him interacting with Bryce. He was a kind and tentative father. Much like how her own had been. She pretended to read a book she had no interest in to provide an illusion of privacy.

“…and the young boy bravely reached out to touch the dragon’s snout. His friends gasped, waiting and watching for him to be scorched by fire. But the dragon closed its eyes and huffed, melting under the touch of the boy.” Alistair let out a big yawn. “I think that’s all I can manage tonight. We’ll have to pick up where we left off tomorrow.”

Bethany stole a glance in their direction. Alistair was returning the book to the nightstand. Bryce was fast asleep.

He stretched and she admired his form. Strong arms, wide shoulders, and a slightly rounded belly that she briefly dreamed of laying on. Then her eyes flicked lower and saw he also had quite a lovely bottom, not that she was focusing too much on it. Just appreciative. She told herself to look away and stop thinking such things. He turned and definitely caught her staring. She tore her eyes away and buried her nose in the book. Cheeks flushed.

She pretended not to hear his footsteps coming towards her. The book was really really interesting then. She nearly bore a hole through the book with her immense interest.

He sat across from her.

“I haven’t properly thanked you for all you have been doing to help my son. So, I uh—“ He ran a tired hand through his shoulder length hair, wisps of reddish brown bangs with hints of gray, flopping to each side of his face. “Thank you,” he said.

“You’re welcome. Though I must say, it’s a pretty easy thing to do.”

“I don’t think most people would share your opinion.”

She laughed a little. “It’s a good thing I’m not most people then, isn’t it?”

He gave a half hearted chuckle coupled with a nod.

Then they both stared into the fire. Bethany wanted to say something more. Have an actual conversation but she wasn’t even sure where to start. Her brain kept wanting to think about the way her fingers would feel running through his hair. Through his beard and–

“Can I ask you something?”

Praise the maker. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you ever dream of him?”

She tilted her head, searching her mind for the him he was referring to. She blinked as everything came up blank.

“Your brother, I mean. Of Garret.”

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up and then that sad sort of feeling pooled in her stomach. She sighed. “Of course I do. They are always happy. And he is always safe. When I wake up, I remember that it’s all a lie and it hurts.”

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

“Yes, in a way.”

“Hm.” He tugged at his beard.

“Have you been dreaming of your wife?”

“Yes,” he said. His hands came to rest in his lap and he fiddled with the hem of his nightshirt.

“Would you tell me about her?”

Alistair glanced up then. Eyes wide like she was asking him to jump off a cliff.

“I–I don’t really know where to start.”

“How about your dream? Do you remember it?”

“Yes.”

“Well I’d love to hear about it if you’re willing to tell me.”

And he did. He told her all about how they had grown old together. How it made him feel. How it had affected his entire day. How it tore him up inside.

“I just–when the person you share everything with, including your deepest secrets and darkest hurts–when they die, who do you turn to? Normally, they’d be your person. But she isn’t here and it’s so incredibly unfair. Which is ridiculous to think, I know. Life isn’t fair and all that.”

Bethany reached out without thinking, covering his large hand with her smaller one and squeezed. “It’s really not. It’s understandable you feel that way. I’m so sorry Alistair. You’re right. It is incredibly unfair. It’s unfair that the world took what you loved most and still moved on, leaving you to pick up pieces of yourself in the throes of responsibility. It must be difficult.”

“It–it is.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, retracting his hand. Then he bolted upright out of his chair. “I’ve taken up too much of your evening, Bethany. Have a good night,” he spit the words out in a hurry as he fled.

“You too, I guess,” she muttered, then doused the fire with a cone of frost.

[liberty-barnes]

Done Wondering

Jock!Tom Holland x Female!Reader

Highschool AU

@danicarosaline requested: Hi pretty!! i saw your requests are open so may i please request a jock Tom x reader! Tom is a big softy and the captain of his football team and reader is a tough ‘not taking shits from anybody’ type of person? Like Tom gets in an argument with a team mate and he’s being all nice and calm about it but reader thinks his team mate deserves a good punch in the face so she punches him and it shocks the entire team and Tom himself even though he expected it!!

Warnings: F L U F F, not sure that the football talk is 100% accurate, all I know about American football is that Tom Brady's a quarterback, their jerseys are cool and apparently I'm supposed to cheer for the Pats? (yeah, that's my dad's fault), B99 references (i fucking love that show), cursing, a bit of violence ig

Word Count: 2.3k words (why can i not write short things?)

Estimated Reading Time: 9 minutes

A/N: so sorry it took so long to get this out! also, i got waaaaaay to invested in this... oopsie

Masterlist

You ran across the field as people all around you celebrated with only one goal in mind: kiss your boyfriend.

You and Tom had been dating for almost seven months now, to many people's surprise. The entire school thought you'd be together for a week tops, but you surpassed all their expectations by becoming the longest standing couple in junior year (not that it was hard, high schoolers change partners like discardable gloves). 

Tom was one of Sunset High's best and brightest, loved by the teachers, captain of the football team, and the object of many's affection.

You, however, were nothing like that. You hated sports (everyone knows art's better anyway), social interactions were your personal little slice of hell, and everyone was too scared to approach you since you threatened to gut Charles after he accidentally forgot to give you back your pencil.

All in all, there was no way you two could stay together.

There was no way you could even make a friendship work, let alone a romantic relationship.

But then there was that fateful summer night...

Your mind ran at a thousand miles an hour as you rocked in the park's nest swing. The stars looming over you were the only thing keeping you from spiraling, and after an hour of watching them, the peace in your mind was crumbling.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

You sat up on the swing and looked to your right where stood a sheepish-looking Tom.

"It's okay, I should probably leave anyway..."

"No! I mean, it's okay, you were here first I didn't mean to disturb you."

You cast your eyes down until he spoke again.

"You go to my school, right? (Y/n)? We were in the same English class in freshman year."

"Yeah, I think so... I'm surprised you remember me, we didn't have any classes together last year..."

He huffed out a laugh and leaned against the support beam, hands in his pockets.

"It's kinda hard to forget someone like you. You stood up to the teacher on the first day after he yelled at a kid and spent the next year having actual coherent debates about the books that most of the class never even read, let alone understood. You're kind of amazing."

You ducked your head once more to try to cover the blush on your cheeks, biting your lip.

"Thanks."

He nodded and took a deep breath, then sat in front of you and pushed so the swing was rocking softly, always catching it before it hit his face.

You giggled a bit and sat criss-cross applesauce, back straight, your mother's words permanently etched into your brain.

"So, what are you doing alone in the town's most secluded park at midnight?"

"Oh, you know, questioning my life choices, freaking out because in three weeks we're going back to school while simultaneously feeling stir crazy after having nothing cool to do all summer, regretting ever being born, the usual. What about you?"

"Getting crushed by everyone's expectations, feeling constricted cause I have to set a good example for my little brothers, freaking out cause I have no idea what I want to do with my life, the usual."

A comfortable silence settled between you.

"Do our lives really suck or is it just the teenagers in us that dramatize everything?"

He huffed out a laugh.

"I don't know, tell me your story and I'll let you know."

You scooched to the side and patted the now empty spot on the too-small swing so he could lay down next to you. Looking at the stars seemed like a better idea than looking at him.

"I never really liked school, people are jerks, cafeteria food is disgusting at best, I have no friends -not that I care about that, I'm better off alone. Still, it's better than being home. When my father isn't working in his study, he's berating me about getting better grades, even though I'm a straight-A student, not that he cares enough to actually know that. My mother's usually either gossiping with her other rich friends or telling me to correct my posture, dress better, act like a lady, it's infuriating...

"My older brother, the only person in that family that I genuinely like, left for MIT today, so I guess I'm just now realizing that I'm really... alone. I'll have to suffer through my father's lectures about getting high grades and act like someone I'm not so my mother doesn't take away everything I love until I "learn to act like a respectable woman". Jake used to get them to lay off me, but now he's not here. Sometimes I wonder why they even adopted me if I'm such a bad daughter. It just sucks."

You felt his hand twitch next to yours and his eyes on your face.

"Your turn."

He took a shuddering breath before speaking.

"My parents are amazing, they really are, they only want what's best for me, but sometimes it's a little much. They constantly remind me of going to training, doing my homework, studying for tests, and even though they always say it's okay, I see the disappointment in their eyes when my grades lower even by a single point.

"My little brothers look up to me a lot, and they're always telling me how much they want to be just like me when they grow up. I know they mean it in the best possible way, but it's just that much more pressure. I just... feel the need to always be the best at everything. The best football player, the best captain, the best student, the kindest person in that school, most helpful... it's all a bit much."

This time, it was you who were looking at his profile while he gazed at the stars.

"It's okay to feel overwhelmed, Tom. It doesn't matter that they have the best intentions, they're still putting too much pressure on you and you deserve the chance to relax."

He turned towards you and for the first time that night, you realized just how close you were.

"You're not a bad daughter just because you have different interests. I, for one, think you are a strong and independent woman who doesn't need to change because of some mere peasants. You're a queen... You deserve someone that'll treat you as one."

Your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with him.

"Wanna make a deal?"

You nodded tentatively, though at this point you'd probably agree to murder someone as long as he kept looking at you that way.

"I'll be your friend, give you something to do whenever you need it, save you from your asshole parents and remind you of just how awesome you are every day..."

"And in return?"

"And in return, you'll say stuff like what you said before when I get too stuck in my head, save me from my so-called friends when they're being jerks, and come to every practice with me so you have something to do and I have someone to make silly faces at."

"I'm pretty sure there are a thousand girls in that school that would kill to have you make silly faces at them."

"Maybe so, but they aren't you. A lock of your hair is worth more than all of them combined."

You bit your lip and smiled.

"Okay."

"Cool."

"Cool."

He pecked you softly on the lips before he lost his nerve, quick and fleeting, feather-light but strong enough to leave fires in its wake. You pulled him back and gave him a slightly longer kiss before setting your head on his shoulder and going back to stargazing, now with someone to keep you company.

Three weeks later, you walked into school hand in hand and haven't let go since.

"Tommy!"

You jumped into his arms, ignoring the smell of sweat and how it would probably cling to your clothes.

"You did so good baby!"

He kissed you straight on the lips, not minding his teammate's wolf-whistles, having grown used to them already.

"I had a pretty good motivation."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm, my girl told me she'd bake me cookies if I won this match, and I really like her cookies."

"Sounds like you have a great girlfriend."

"The best."

You kissed him again and he smiled when he felt the fabric of his spare jersey adorning your figure.

"Yo, Holland!"

You forced apart by Teddy's call, one of the newer players. Since you went to every single practice, you knew that Teddy was being an ass lately, always wanting the glory, never passing the ball to his teammates. If it weren't for Tom's skill as captain of the team, he would've cost them most matches, including this one.

"Why didn't you pass me the ball?"

"Pardon?"

"That last play, I was free and you passed the ball to Harrison even though he almost lost it. You should have passed it to me, we almost lost because you want to make your useless bestie feel included!"

"Johnson was closing in on you, if I'd passed it to you, we would have lost for sure. Passing it to Harrison bought me the time I needed to get out of danger. It was purely strategical, you would know that if you paid attention to your teammates instead of playing all on your own. Haz is an amazing player and I don't treat him differently just because he's my best friend. I'd like you to apologize to him, please, it's not kind to insult your teammates."

You admired the fact that he managed to remain calm and collected throughout the whole conversation, looking like the embodiment of 'I'm not mad, I'm disappointed'. You, however, were not having such an easy time keeping your cool, hands firmly clenched at your side.

"The hell it was! You just feel threatened by me because you'll never be as good as me, so you never pass me the ball, it's ridiculous!"

"Okay, buddy, you need to back the hell off and close your mouth before I punch it shut."

His eyes flickered to you and he rose a brow mockingly.

"Oh, your little slut's standing up for you know? I always knew you were a chicken, guess my theory's been pro-"

You cut him off with a punch to the nose, smiling when you heard the satisfying crack of his bones and his howls of pain.

A collective 'ooh' came from the crowd, and they took a few steps back (excluding Tom of course, who was only looking at you with wide eyes).

"What the fuck?"

"I warned you, didn't I?"

You smirked evilly as Teddy was pulled away by the coach to check his injury.

"You're a bitch!"

"Baddest of them all, sweetheart. Have a fun time at the hospital!"

The whole crowd had gone silent by the time you turned back around, seemingly satisfied with your vengeance.

"What?"

You tilted your head in confusion at the awestruck looks on the team's faces.

"You broke his nose!"

"Uh-huh."

"With just your hand."

"Uh-huh."

"Since when are you so violent?"

You were actually kind of offended at that.

"I know that I bring you guys snacks after practice, but do none of you hear when I threaten other people? It's a daily occurrence."

The rubbed their necks sheepishly.

"Well, you see..."

Haz started, seemingly measuring his words.

"You're kind of like Rosa from Brooklyn Nine-Nine. No one actually knows what you're capable of, no one thinks you'd actually kill someone, but we're also kind of too scared to test you, so we just... wonder."

"Well, when you're done wondering, go take a shower so we can go celebrate, I'm hungry."

They all scrambled away in a chorus of 'yes ma'am' before you turned back to Tom with a smile on your face.

"You didn't have to punch him, you know?"

"Yeah, but I've been wanting to for weeks now."

He huffed out a laugh and kissed your forehead.

"How're your knuckles?"

"A bit sore, but I'm pretty sure that if we put some ice it'll be good, the rings took most of the impact."

You wiggled your hand, showing off the array of rings covering your fingers in what you deemed to be an aesthetically pleasing way.

"I love you, babygirl."

You kissed him, smiling into his lips.

"I love you too. Now go, shower!"

You patted his butt and laughed at the look he threw you, standing next to the field while you waited for them to get out.

Their coach came to stand next to you and you smiled at him, having taken a liking for him. He was a good teacher and treated the team well.

"Coach Jeffords."

"(Y/n)."

"What's the verdict?"

"Nurse says it's broken but we'll only know the full extent of his injuries after he gets examined at the ER. He's on his way there as we speak."

You nodded.

"You'll be pleased to know that he's been taken off the team and suspended for a week for unruly behavior. His parents aren't going to press charges since they feel it's deserved."

You smirked evilly.

"I'd advise you to watch out for Pembroke. He's starting to become a nuisance. If he keeps it up, he might be next."

He nodded, fighting back his smile even though you knew damn well he agreed.

"I'll do my best."

"And I'll do mine."

"(Y/n)! Ready to go?"

You nodded in goodbye at the coach and walked over to a freshly showered Tom, interlacing your fingers.

"Always."

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

PERMA TAG 

@jeezkiddo @beananacake @yoinkyourheart @averyfosterthoughts​ @onebigolemess​ @samoney69​ @agirlwithpointlessideas​ @ddaawwssoonn @inhumanwithpowers​ @imagineshere-forall​ @stiles-banshees​ @orowit​ @spideynut​ @deathofmissjackson​ @ephemeral-limerences​ @write-from-the-heart​ @cardboard-ben​ @my-alignment-is-bisexual​ @mendes-marvel​ @shawnsnovel​ @inthecornerchair​ @lovelynerdytraveler​ @niallssweetheart22​ 

ACTORS/RPF TAG 

@bubblegumbarnes​ @sofiaconlaz​ 

TOM HOLLAND TAG 

@tomsirishgirlx​ @dreaming-lia​ @markleehee​ @juliebean247​ @gypsystuf​ @quechulitaaa​ @theoretical-theo​ @bubblegumbarnes​  @sofiaconlaz​ @underooling​ @hannahholland1811​ @bellaaa321-blog​ @parkerpetertingle​ @emily-louise-hynes @clara-licht​ @ekelly2015​ @inlovewithmobtom​ @quaksonhehe​ @danicarosaline​ @arts-ismything​ @peachyafshawn @tutuabby28​ @sovereignparker​ @tokhalaxoxo​ @cathwritestragediesnotsins​ @incorrect-things​ 

[chrysalizzm]

Do you have fic recs or head canons? please ramble for paragraphs im bored and looking for something to read.

oh boy do i have some fic recs for you (and everyone who sees this), my friend! this one is quite long because there are a lot of fics i like and this isn’t all of them, so if you’d like more, you can check out my bookmarks page ^^

The Run and Go by Numanum 

“That’s not fair,” Bad protests. Dream raises an eyebrow at him and jerks his tied hands in emphasis, clearly saying that none of this is fair.

“Look, you keep running! Who runs if they’re not guilty?” Bad challenges, staring him down with obvious distrust from the generous distance of exactly five feet. It’s fair, as much as Dream hates to admit it; it’s not like he’s been the most honest hostage in the past, with all of his escaping and running and framing himself for his own murder, apparently.

“Only the good die young, and only the guilty run,” Technoblade chimes in, holding his own potato and sitting in the snow like it’s not cold at all.

A hot flash of irritation burns through him.

“Someone being chased?” he counters sarcastically, jerking his tied wrists up again to wave them in front of the group. Sapnap laughs so hard that he almost chokes on his potato, but it dies off when Dream gives him an icy stare.

Or: Dream is having a hard time, and the hunter just want to adopt him like a stray puppy that bites you at every opportunity.

multi-chapter, ongoing.

a manhunt with plot-style fic! exquisitely written, visceral in the emotions it evokes. it’s the kind of fic that makes me feel all shaky with anticipation, the kind that i have a physical reaction to; you can’t put it down.

pain. all-consuming pain. this one feels bad, man

and as he fell (you walked away) by Teahound

Once upon a time, there were three hunters.

They were good at what they did. If you wanted something-- or better yet, someone-- found, discovered, or destroyed, they were the people you asked. They didn’t have much to their name, besides a formidable reputation, but they were a team, and that was enough for them.

Once upon a time, there was a king in the forest.

He wore a mask, but it didn’t matter. That deep in the forest, in a hidden fortress, buried behind leaves and monsters and broken stone, no one could see his face anyway. He had been there a very long time, and he was alone.

Being a king can be a very lonely thing. So one day, the king left the fortress.

A Minecraft manhunt AU, with a fantasy twist. Dream is a cryptid, and Hunters are idiots.

multi-chapter (11), complete.

tea’s fic!! a manhunt-with-plot fic, featuring a forest spirit dream and circumstantial hunters and friendships that feel both intensely real and desperately melancholy because they can’t last.

or can they?

The Real World by Cinammonzoa and Fire_Fly464

"Ten, paces fire!"

Time stopped.

Tommy’s entire body went numb. He tried to open his mouth to say something, but his body was determined to keep him silent. His vision went dark, and he could no longer feel his headphones over his ears. The mouse in his hand. The slight breeze of his ceiling fan. For a few seconds, he couldn’t feel anything.

His senses came back to him all at once. The first thing Tommy noticed was the weight in his right hand -- a bow. His nostrils stung with the lingering scent of gunpowder. In front of him was a masked figure. Their right arm was bent, their elbow by their face. In their left hand was a bow, aiming directly at--

~~~

Aka Dream and Tommy get transported into the SMP world and have no idea what the fuck is happening

multi-chapter (23), complete

you’ve probably seen this one if you haunt the video blogging rpf/minecraft tags of ao3 often! an irl!dream and tommy replace their smp counterparts type of beat, very upbeat in dynamic and fun to keep pace with, great read.

staying alive (though the city is dead) by Alice_Not_In_Wonderland

"Damned if you do, damned if you don't," Schlatt smirks, his words lilting, almost song-like. His eyes seem to glow brighter. "Tell me, Dream, when did you realize that you could talk and talk and talk and no one would ever believe you?"

---

or: if dream's damned to be a villain in every story he's in, then he's going to show them exactly how much of one he can be

one-shot, complete.

the gratuitous greek mythology references are truly everything and this fic is such a good dissection of dream and schlatt’s motivations and how their goals intersect, and dream’s likening to cassandra really hits different 

Green & Gold by HognoseSnake

George’s legs ached.

His lungs felt tight and too small.

His breath was loud in his ears.

His pack bounced uncomfortably on his shoulders.

George, homeless and adrift, is an outlaw of the Mad King's reign. He'd spent the last two months being hunted across the wilderness at the fringe of society by a ruthless killer in a smiling mask and bright green coat. This, he understood.

What he didn't understand is why such a ruthless killer kept letting him go.

multi-chapter (8), complete. sequel ongoing.

a breathtaking pseudo-manhunt-with-plot fic, with george and dream running from a kingdom that wants them dead for perceived transgressions. this shit hurted, and the sequel hurts even worse ;-; snake please i beg

We’re Only Young series by ImperialKatwala

It's easy to forget amid the chaos and bloodshed how similar - and how young - Dream and Technoblade really are.

collection of both one-shots and ongoing multi-chapter fics.

((bangs on table)) please read this series it is dream and techno friendship fics that alternate between lighthearted and heartwrenchingly comforting and imperialkatwala’s characterisation of them and their respective groups of family and friends is so frickin’ good i read this series when i’m not having a good day and it never fails to make me crack a smile

kept promises and old ruins and names carved into stone by verecundiam

"Would you... would you want to stay here?" Bad wrings his hands, looking away. "Like, like actually stay? I know it's not, ah, not exactly comfortable, or all that homey, but I don't want you two to get hurt out there on your own, and I just... I think maybe you could stay? If you want?"

"That sounds nice," Sapnap says, because it does.

(Or: How four kids managed to build a family, against all odds.)

one-shot, complete.

muffinteers found family that makes me want to go to the smp writers and beg it to be made canon. unbelievably soft yet excellent at parsing out the younger counterparts of the four and creating backgrounds that feasibly form them into the people they grow up to be.

in the age of icons by BananasofThorns

“Yeah, keep digging,” Tommy crows.

The pickaxe hesitates on the downswing. The air shifts; Dream’s aura bursts into visibility, brilliant green and jagged. Ozone hums on Techno’s tongue and Bad stutters in the middle of his sentence. Up on the wall, silhouetted by the sun, Dream stands frozen and furious.

L'manberg messes with something it shouldn't. Techno watches the repercussions and tries not to laugh.

one-shot, complete.

i love deity aus (figures, i wrote one myself akjdfh), and this one hits. there’s something exquisitely delicate about how dream and the repercussions his godhood both on himself and on the people who are exposed to him in that moment of unbridled rage.

that's how we keep going (we make the best of things) by lieyuu

[ i can’t decide if this is heaven or hell. the walls keep closing in and we’re running out of space, but you’re pretty cute ]

“So, do you want to build a flower shop, a cottage, or a coffee shop?” Puffy asks, smiling like just Niki’s presence is enough to light up her world.

Niki looks at her, thinks, I want to bend nature to my will and weave tapestries in your name, says, “I think I might like the flower shop best.”

one-shot, complete.

a niki/puffy fic that crushed me in its hands in just six hundred words.  the delicate love and wonder and beauty of this fic killed me softly and i welcomed it. it’s girls in love rendered by lieyuu’s masterful hand, what more could you want

i need it to be known that as i was typing up my thoughts midnight love by girl in red started playing from my playlist if that’s not a shining endorsement i don’t know what is

did i ruin the moment? by itisjosh

Ranboo drags himself through the snow, burn wounds going up and down his body. His suit is crumpled, half of it discarded as he crawls along the ground. His eyes are firmly pressed shut, and he refuses to open them, just in case he sees him, Dream, again. Ranboo sobs as the snow melts on his skin, the water scalding him as it trickles down his arms and chest.

one-shot, complete.

it’s character death, i do need to put it out there because it felt like i was punched in the stomach at the end even though i knew. josh knows exactly how to drag his readers kicking and screaming into angst hell, as always - a ranboo is rescued by phil fic wherein ranboo ends up convincing himself that the only reason for his presence in the nearly-empty anarchist commune is because phil sees him as a placeholder for his sons ;-; pain

Frame The Halves, And Call Them Brothers by MusicallyActive

"Let's go!" Quackity roared. "Let's fucking go!"

The anvil dropped, and Techno reached for his totem of undying. This was going to hurt like a bitch.

Phil screamed something, and instantly a crushing force struck Technoblade's skull. It rattled him to the core, doused his vision in red, and then all he knew was black.

He gasped awake moments later to the sound of his communicator pinging softly at his bedside table, and when Technoblade opened his eyes, New L'manburg was nowhere in sight.

one-shot, complete.

a techno timeloop fic that shows off the unintentional cruelty of the children who run l’manberg and techno’s own inability to allow the people he tries so hard not to love to come to harm. techno’s rendered in painstaking detail; this one was cathartic in the best way.

on i go (move to move) by Aenqa

If you ask someone whether they’ve ever experienced real, severe physical pain, you’ll learn a lot from their response.

Techno knows what it means to be in pain. He’s accepted it as a necessary consequence of keeping his family safe. But when the pain he's experiencing starts to become too much to bear alone, it takes his family to show him what it might mean to feel better.

one-shot, complete.

chronic pain fic featuring sbi!! it’s really good - aenqa wrote chronic pain well, and incorporated respawn mechanics into it well, and the dynamic between sbi is impeccable.

Yellow and Blue and- by nic_takes_Ls (nic_L)

It’s another gorgeous day in New L’Manberg. Tubbo’s stilted streets of deep toned spruce and honey-touched oaks are warm under his feet from the sun, and a sign and a small banner proclaim the country’s name in front of his face. Wilbur is so happy to let the ‘L’ roll of his tongue as he says it, ‘Manberg’ was harsh and too guttural, but the two extra syllables make it something that could fit on a melody, a four-note beat he could set the pace of his unbeating heart to.

The citizens of New L’Manberg track him with cautious eyes at first, until Tubbo changes his eyes to slightly sad ones, listening along to Wilbur’s rambles, warming up to the truly soot-grey sight of his face and sunshine yellow of his ever-present sweater. The rest of the population soon follow, laughing at Wilbur’s strange innocence and telling him what he’s done with only a little bit of spite in a pitying mask and fixing their mouths in a line when he suddenly forgets what he’s doing or stares into space or laughs at nothing.

But all the people who get sad when Wilbur starts laughing after shock-still silence are dumb.

Because Wilbur’s not laughing at nothing.

one-shot, complete.

a ghostbur fic from quite early on! it includes references to wilbur and schlatt’s older videos/smp experiences and has a super interesting take on the nature of wilbur’s amnesia i enjoyed this fic a lot ^^

east of eden series by subwaywalls

Philza protects his home.

(An angel with a singing blade of fire guards the gates to paradise.)

two one-shots, one ongoing multi-chapter fic.

READ IT READ IT READ IT. the eoe series is exquisite in both content and presentation, centering around sbi and the powers they all respectively have but also bringing in people like grian and dream, and subwaywalls is a master of packaging her words ever so delicately to create an experience that is ethereal.

[elsanna-shenanigans]

April Contest Submission #30: Break Me Off

Words: ca. 3,000 Setting: mAU Lemon: no CW: none

“Can I try yours?”

Elsa’s head snapped up from the book she was reading to look to her left. Her baby sister was looking expectantly, her small hand outstretched and waiting expectantly, fingers wiggling in a grabby motion.

“Sure,” she answered with a smile, and passed her barely started dark chocolate KitKat on to Anna. “I don’t think you’ll like it though.”

Anna ignored that statement and immediately put the candy bar in her ‘some teeth missing transition period’ mouth, and bit off a sizable chunk. She chewed for a few seconds before her chocolate-covered lips twisted in a grimace, and she threw the KitKat back in Elsa’s lap.

“Ewww,” she said once she finally swallowed the bite (she at least had the decency to not spit it out like she used to a few years ago, something Elsa could bet would drive their father nuts if she did it in the new car), then gave Elsa the dirtiest look ever. “It’s so bitter! Why are you doing this to yourself…”

The last words were said with an overly-dramatic flair as Anna put her hand up to her forehead and pretended to faint like an old-timey movie lady on an ottoman. Which would work much better if she wasn’t stopped by the seat belt.

“It’s not that bitter to me.” Elsa shrugged as she picked up the discarded KitKat and continued to eat it as if nothing ever mattered. “You just still have a baby palate,” she said around a mouthful.

Anna blew her a raspberry, and her gaze dropped to Elsa’s book. “Whatcha reading anyway?”

Elsa swallowed the KitKat. “Harry Potter.” She flipped the cover to show it to Anna, who immediately started tracing and mouthing the letters of the title. “The fifth part comes out next week, so I wanted to re-read it before then.”

“Can you read it to me?”

“Later,” she lowered her voice and glanced in the rear-view mirror at their father’s concentrated face. It wasn’t the best idea to read–and have Anna interrupt with her loud comments–while he was driving. “When we’re settled at the hotel, I’ll read some to you.”

+++

“Hey,” Anna whispered, leaning over the wide armrest so she could reach Elsa’s ear. “You wanna try a bite of mine?”

She offered her the obnoxiously white KitKat, and Elsa immediately took it, as if its glow-in-the-dark properties could be seen by the row behind them. Without thinking much, she chomped down on the half-eaten candy bar. The overwhelming sweetness exploded in her mouth and seemed to coat her tongue with a thick, fatty film.

“You like it?” Anna whispered again, absolutely disinterested in the screen, her eyes locked square on Elsa’s face. “It’s kinda sweet, but I think I dig the white chocolate.”

Fighting through the nausea, Elsa finally managed to push the saccharine mush down her throat. “It’s absolutely disgusting,” she whispered back, then chuckled at Anna’s betrayed face. “I can see why you’d like it.”

Anna opened her mouth to say something (presumably snarky, she was hitting that age) in return, but an angry shhh came up from behind them. Elsa glanced at the people sitting in the back row and mouthed a sorry.

She turned back to the screen and tried to catch up on what she’d missed from the movie. So far The Goblet of Fire was proving to be worse than the previous parts, but she still wanted to know how they managed to work out the lake task of the Triwizard–

When Anna opened her mouth again just a few seconds later, Elsa stuck the white chocolate KitKat in it.

+++

“Hey, tradition!” Anna screamed suddenly as Elsa unwrapped her finals-study-motivation KitKat, almost making her drop it. “Lemme try!”

Elsa blinked. This was just the dark chocolate variety, one that she was sure she’d already let Anna try at some point in her life.

“You already–” But before she could finish, Anna’s shark jaws locked around the still barely unwrapped candy bar in Elsa’s hand with a loud crunch.

She munched for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face as she was considering the flavor. It quickly gave way to a disgusted scowl.

“Ew,” she said with a fake gag. “It’s as bad as I remembered.”

So Elsa did let her try it before. She rolled her eyes and half-heartedly swatted Anna away.

With a devious snicker and a hurried good luck with the exam!, Anna skipped out of the room and left her alone to study.

Elsa shook her head and finally returned her attention to her long-awaited snack award.

For some reason, the sight of Anna’s glitter lip gloss on the dark chocolate made her stomach twist.

+++

KitKats turned out to be the best way to go through her finals that year, and the next semester, and the next next semester, putting in the required fuel, feeling of accomplishment and the calories missing from not having time to eat proper meals.

It was also one of her little pleasures to find and test new flavors, especially those not available locally. It was Anna’s little pleasure to never say she wanted to order some for herself, and instead take bites off of Elsa’s, ‘just in case I don’t like it and don’t wanna finish!’

And over time it was one of Elsa’s little pleasures to look at the print of Anna’s lips on the chocolate and tenderly place hers on top to match the shape.

That little pleasure turned into a major curse when she realized she was daydreaming about placing her lips on Anna’s directly.

From then on, she would only buy the 4 finger breakable Kits.

+++

“I don’t really like this one,” Anna said around a mouthful of the Ruby cocoa KitKat. “It looks super cute, but it just tastes kinda waxy.”

Elsa shrugged. “Honestly, it’s just like the regular, but pink.”

“No, it’s different.” There was no point arguing with Anna on that. While Elsa preferred to try out new flavors, Anna has always been a hardcore true fan and real connoisseur of the regular Kit, so all she could do was to believe the expert. The currently pouting, cutely irritated expert. “Do you wanna finish mine?”

Elsa’s blood froze.

The whole point of the 4 finger Kits (which she personally considered inferior as the ratio of chocolate to wafer was just not quite on par with the single stick) was to not kiss Anna by proxy. Is what she came to call it.

But Anna was holding out the pink KitKat with a darker pink lip gloss outline in her direction, looking at her expectantly.

“N-no, I’m fine,” she answered a little too quickly and in a little too nervous of a voice. “I don’t really like it either,” she lied.

Anna’s brows furrowed. “I thought you said it tastes like the regular to you.”

Elsa could feel herself sweat. Damn, the stupid act of sharing a KitKat, something they’ve done since they were little kids was making her sweat.

Probably precisely because they’ve been doing this since they were little kids. Growing up together. Being sisters. Who should not want to kiss each other, yet there Elsa was, looking away from Anna’s perfect cupid bow glossy lips like a teenager (which she was definitely not anymore, on the final stretch to obtaining her bachelor degree) in love.

Her own lower lip felt numb from biting down on it. Fuck, she was in love.

“Yeah, but you’re right,” she said, mouth dry. She was in love and she was just now realizing this because of a stupid Ruby KitKat. “It is waxy.” Stupidly good Ruby KitKat that she was going to deny herself because her sister’s lips touched it and she would burn in hell if hers did too. “Just toss it out.”

Anna’s face looked like she just told her she actually was planning to vote on Trump for the pure fun of it, but she didn’t say anything.

+++

“Hey, I’m just about to head out– oh is that a new one?”

Elsa almost dropped the half eaten candy bar on the floor. She was not expecting Anna to come in her room any time soon, and like the true disgusting goblin she was, she decided to partake in her secret stash of imported KitKats.

Her dirty little secret stash of single stick KitKats that she couldn’t find in 4 finger format, and thus could not ever, ever let Anna know about because even if she ordered two pieces of each kind Anna would refuse to try an entire bar on her own.

‘I mean, what’s the fun in that? Half of the joy of KitKats is sharing!’

Not really seeing any way out of that, Elsa admitted defeat. “…Yes.”

“Oh, cool!” Anna bounced over excitedly to drop down on the bed next to her. “Oooh, white chocolate and peach? So fancy! Is it from Japan? It looks about the size of the Japanese ones I saw online…”

Her pure, genuine excitement only made Elsa feel even worse about hiding in her room like Gollum with his ring. Then, right as she was reaching for Elsa’s KitKat, Anna’s face and hand suddenly dropped.

“Wait…”

Elsa gulped.

“…you… you were going to eat it without me, weren’t you?”

She focused on the pattern of her carpet.

“Oh my god, Elsa! You stinker!” Anna sounded full-on betrayed, and Elsa could honestly not blame her for that. “I thought KitKats were our thing!”

Elsa blushed, for many different reasons. “I-it’s not like that,” she started explaining herself, fully aware of how pathetic she sounded. “It’s just cause you never want a full KitKat of a new flavor and I couldn’t find them in the sharing format–”

“So? I didn’t know we were suddenly only allowed to share the break-apart ones.”

Elsa sighed. Right, to Anna it didn’t make any sense, because Anna was a normal person who didn’t fantasize about kissing her sister. Or flustered about indirectly kissing her. “I-it’s just easier to portion…”

“I’m pretty good at portioning a bite, thank you very much.” She still sounded a little miffed, but she did smile towards the end– right before her eyes turned very round and glistening. “Did you eat many without me?”

Holy shit, she was looking like the pleading emoji and Elsa was at her wit’s end. “No!” she denied quickly and truthfully. “I-I bought more, but this was the first one I was going to try…”

Anna crossed her arms.

“Aaand now that you know about it I guess there’s no point hiding,” Elsa continued sheepishly. “I’ll uh– I’ll go to the kitchen and cut you off a piece.”

She stood up quickly, holding the KitKat like a relay sprinter holds the baton, clinging on for dear life with the prospect of glory and escaping the rivals, or in this case escaping her sister before she could–

“Wait.” Anna’s hand was on her wrist and Elsa almost yelped. The rivals outran her and the finish line was nowhere in sight as she fell on her knees, defeated, and only metaphorically speaking as in real life she was just standing stiff in her place. “What? Just let me take a bite, it’s easier–”

“N-no,” she interrupted quickly, trying to pry the wrist away from Anna’s surprisingly strong grip. “Cause, uh– umm, that way I can make sure to cut in the middle and give you a fair share.”

Yes, that was a splendid save.

“I just want a bite, I’m not sure if I would like a whole half.” And a gloriously crushing response from the opponent. “Just let me–”

Her peach pink lip gloss would look amazingly fitting on the white chocolate and peach KitKat. Or on Elsa’s lips. Applied with her lips. On her lips. Kissing–

“No!” She yanked her hand away. Anna’s eyebrows shot up in shock, and Elsa realized she yelled that very loudly, even though she was mostly responding to her own dirty little secret thoughts. “I mean– I don’t wanna…”

What? What was she supposed to say to get out of this? There was literally no logical reason she could not be wanting to simply share the KitKat like they used to for so many years, aside from the obvious plague that was currently rotting her mind, but she could not tell Anna that–

“…are you disgusted by me?”

She said it in such a small voice, looking up from where she was sitting on Elsa’s bed with hands folded neatly in her lap, her big teal eyes glazed with a sheet of tears and Elsa’s heart broke into a thousand shards.

“Oh god, no!” Her hands moved on their own to grab Anna and pull her into a hug, but she stopped herself on the way, now with her hands awkwardly hovering at Anna’s eye level. “Why… no, I’m so sorry you would even think that, I–”

“Then what is it, Elsa?”

Fuck. Fuckity fuck shit fuck what was she–

“Just say it,” she damn near sobbed. “Out loud.”

“Your lip gloss,” she said in a flat voice, grasping at straws to not lie, but also not tell the truths. “It stays on the KitKat when you bite it.”

Anna’s eyes went wider. “You don’t like my lip gloss?”

Why the fuck was she sounding this hurt by the idea? “No, I–”

“I thought you said it looks good…”

“It does!” She could clearly feel herself getting flustered. “I like it, and it looks very good on your li– on you. Really good.” God, was she sounding as borderline creepy to Anna as she did to herself? “B-but it leaves a– a stencil of your lips on the…”

She trailed off, not really sure how to get out of the corner she just talked herself into.

Anna gave her a puzzled look. “So you don’t like… my lips?”

“No!” Jesus why was communication so difficult and why was the room so hot and why was Anna looking at her like this? “I love them. Like! I like them. I like. Them. Your lips. Like them.”

If Anna got up and called the ambulance right now because ‘my sister is having a stroke!’ Elsa would find it completely justified.

“Ookay…” Anna said slowly, not reaching for the phone, and instead continuing to try to read Elsa’s face (but what she could potentially read was that inside Elsa’s head there was a wind-up monkey puppet playing the cymbal, and nothing much beside that.) “So what is the problem?”

Elsa mumbled in response.

“I’m sorry?”

“It feels like we’re kissing,” she said weakly, absolutely giving up on her hopes and dreams in that instance. “When I bite the KitKat.”

Anna blinked at her. “That’s it?”

Elsa nodded.

“I mean, that’s all?”

It was Elsa’s turn to wear a confused expression.

“You’ve been getting only breakable KitKats for a year just so you could share with me without feeling like this?”

Elsa nodded again, albeit cautiously. She had no idea where Anna was going with this.

“And denying yourself flavors that don’t exist in that format so that I wouldn’t feel left out?”

Nod again.

“I’m sorry.”

Record scratch. “What? No, why are you sorry?”

“Because you were feeling uncomfortable because of me?”

“No, I– I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable knowing I want to kiss you.”

Wait, no– oh no no no no holy fuck no backtrack backtrack backtrack–

Her stomach sunk. There was no way to backtrack.

Red alert, escape the room.

Anna caught her hips before she could dash for the door and spun her around to face her again, this time meeting her at eye level. She reached for Elsa’s hand–which was currently hanging limply at her side, and still holding the goddamned half-eaten KitKat–and clasped it gently in hers, then brought it up until it was between them, right in front of Elsa’s mouth.

The scent of peach and white chocolate hit her before her brain registered the development.

“Bite,” Anna said softly, but with demand. “And hold.”

Elsa’s mouth opened on its own as her sister pushed the KitKat in, and obediently she clamped her teeth down on it–just enough to break the chocolate layer, but not all the way through.

She stood there patiently with the candy bar sticking out of her mouth, watching Anna remove the remaining wrapper as if her body was not hers to steer, as if she was just a passive observer as her mind was struggling to pick the pieces of what her sister was doing without going for what she really wanted Anna to be doing in her heart of hearts.

Once the wrapper was off, Anna climbed on her tiptoes and– Elsa could swear she saw her smirk right before the free end of the KitKat disappeared in Anna’s mouth, slowly, until their lips finally touched.

Their lips touched.

She was kissing her sister.

She was kissing her sister around a fucking candy bar.

And in just a few heartbeats she heard the tell-tale, trademark KitKat crunch as Anna’s teeth broke through the wafer, and with a final brush of her glossed lips she was off, leaving behind only a chunk of white chocolate and peach mousse in Elsa’s numb, speechless mouth.

“It looks good on you too,” Anna said with her mouth still full and gaze dashing between Elsa’s lips and eyes. “Bet it would be even better without the melted chocolate.” She swallowed down her bite, and let out a satisfied hum. “Mm, I like this one. Funny how the flavors work together so well… chew, Elsa.”

She brought her hand up to Elsa’s chin and pressed on it, and Elsa mechanically picked up the chewing motion, earning a delighted smile from her sister.

Anna glanced down at her watch. “Well, I gotta go. The sea and beach won’t run away, but my friends just might if I keep them waiting any longer.” She placed a soft, sticky kiss on Elsa’s boiling hot cheek. “But I’m really looking forward to trying the other flavors you got.”

With a wink, she pushed past her and out the door, leaving Elsa to deal with the lump (of KitKat) in her throat.

[aizawaorkuroo]

on the house (chapter 6) - coffee milk tea (with boba!)

Ship: Yagi Toshinori x reader

Rated: T

Word Count: 4.1k

Summary: You see Toshinori three times before he has to stop hiding.

Warnings: Language

AN: Sorry for the delay!! i like lost all motivation to write but i got it done! This chapter reads as a series of vignettes lowkey like at each line break. Let me know what y’all think 🥺💖 Also coffee milk tea is also called yuenyeung and it fucking slaps gerfwas

OTH Masterlist

_________

Toshinori texts you religiously after that weekend. A sprinkling of messages throughout the day that make butterflies swarm in your stomach. They start off in the morning when you’re already working at Sweet Bean.

It’s always something simple like Have a good day! :-) or Good Morning! But nonetheless, his messages always stirred up warm feelings.

It always makes you smile, which Aiko takes full advantage of. The teasing you got when you saw her was merciless. The number of jokes centered around “you’re absolutely glowing” astounded you. If she wasn’t such a valuable employee or a good friend, you would’ve thought about sending her home.

Yamada outright teases you, much to your horror. He’s relentless, maybe even worse than Aiko. But it’s Aizawa’s knowing grins that make your stomach flip. But when Toshinori messages you, the growing waves of affection confirm that you would put up with all the teasing and giggling in the world for a chance to have something real with him.

The days slip into something warmer and longer, the air becoming sticky and thick with rising heat. You can’t help but breathe a little easier in the summer. It’s especially nice whenever students come in while they’re on break. They bring a sense of life and youthfulness that warms your heart.

The group of girls Sato brought are back again, lounging around a table. They have stopped by a few times since then, and it’s been nice, watching them study, gossip, and celebrate the end of the term. This time, they’re joined by two other girls, and you can’t help but smile.

“Boss, stop being weird,” Aiko whines from next to you. You roll your eyes, tearing your gaze away from the group of girls to your bubbly employee.

“Don’t you have a summer class you need to be getting to?” you ask bluntly. Aiko’s mouth twists as she’s about to volley back another teasing remark before she freezes. Her eyes widen as she processes what you said.

“Oh shit!”

Your customers offer the two of you a small glance as Aiko rips off her apron, throwing it into the back. Without another word, she sprints out the front door. As she exits, she sails past Toshinori, who looks mildly alarmed.

You grin as Toshinori shyly waves at you from the entrance. There’s someone with him that piques your interest: a boy with green curls and freckles scattered across his face. When they walk past the group of girls, the young boy waves excitedly, stopping to talk.

Toshinori’s been stopping by more and more, much to your pleasure. There were some days where he forgets to order something, too enthralled in chatting with you and watching you work. But you’ve never seen the kid that’s with him.

When Toshinori steps up to the counter, your phone buzzes. Your head tilts as you read it, and you pinch the bridge of your nose.

Please clock me out!

“Suga, can you clock Aiko out?” you call to the back. You hear him mutter, and you smile when he tells you she needs to be fired or demoted.

“He doesn’t mean that,” you tell Toshinori, who looks a little concerned. “Also I want you to try something!” You beam up at him, watching as his eyes widen before a soft, tired smile crawls across his face.

“I trust you. I’m good with whatever you want to make,” he mumbles, not quite meeting your eyes. You hum excitedly, turning around to make his drink.

He watches you fondly as you flutter behind the counter. He meant it, that he trusts you. He just can’t tell you everything. Not yet, at least. It’ll all come crumbling down if he says anything now. The smile on his face slips into a frown, the peaceful feeling evaporating from him. Toshinori’s so lost in thought, he doesn’t even notice when you’ve turned back around and placed the cup down in front of him.

Furrowing your brows, you wave your hand in his field of view, grounding him in the moment.

“Where’d you go?” you ask gently. He shakes his head, eyes downcast.

He’s about to answer when the boy that he came in with bounds up to the counter. Toshinori smiles and glances down, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“This is Midoriya. He’s one of my students.” Midoriya beams at you, and something clicks. You’re almost positive you had heard about him before. You don’t know whether he came up from Yamada or Sato, or the group of girls, but you’re positive Midoriya has been brought up before.

“It’s nice to meet you, Midoriya. I’m Y/N.” He waves at you, and your eyes pass over the faded lines that cover his hands and arms. Your heart drops into your stomach as you force your gaze to meet his, trying to maintain the cheery attitude.

“Got any plans for summer break?” you ask, hoping he didn’t notice your concern for his scarred body. He blinks up at you, his smile never leaving his face. If he did notice, he’s doing a decent job at not caring.

“Just training camp! It’s what we were all talking about.” Your head cock’s to the side, and you glance at Toshinori, silently asking for an explanation. He chuckles at your confusion before elaborating.

“There’s a training camp for the Hero courses coming up, so both Class 1-A and 1-B will attend.” You make a noise of understanding before nodding your head. Your gaze flickers to the group of students that are giggling about something. Your heart warms at the thought of them getting a nice break to train somewhere fun.

“Well, Midoriya, I just made Toshi a drink that all your friends are drinking. Would you like one too?” Toshinori’s face flushes red at the use of a nickname in front of his student, and you wink at him. You stifle a laugh as his blush darkens. Midoriya looks at the counter, mildly uncomfortable at how you tease his mentor, but he nods at the offer. You immediately get to work, when his quiet voice pipes up again.

“How much is it?” he murmurs. You shake your head, working quickly.

“Don’t even worry about it. My treat!” When you turn around with Midoriya’s drink, he looks very excited, like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin. Maybe giving him caffeine is a bad idea.

“Oi!” A voice draws your attention to the back, and you roll your eyes at Suga sticking his head out of the kitchen. “Giving out free things all the time is not a sustainable business practice.” Your nose scrunches up, and you stick your tongue out at him. He rolls his eyes before disappearing to bake. You purse your lips and set the drink down next to Toshinori’s.

“Ignore him. Anyways, it’s a coffee milk tea with boba!” you say excitedly. “Suga felt like making boba, and I figured why not add some black milk tea and a little coffee!” Toshinori smiles down at you, affection running off of him in waves. You watch as Midoriya and Toshinori both take a tip. Midoriya’s eyes widen as he chews one of the tapioca pearls.

“I know! The texture’s perfect,” you hum happily. “Suga kind of makes whatever he wants, and I’m alright with that. We’ve been talking about expanding so he can do some more actual cooking besides the ‘fucking sandwiches’, but it’s pretty expensive.”

You tap your chin in thought as you ramble to Midoriya, and Toshinori’s face pulls into a sharp grin. He’s going to tell you soon. He swears he will.

_________

You fall back against your bed, exhausted after a long day at work. The temptation to just shut your eyes crashes over you. Your phone buzzes much to your annoyance, but any frustration you harbor disappears when you see the message is from Toshinori. You smile stupidly at your phone, curling up on your side as you read the message he sent over and over again.

Can I call you?

You bite the inside of your cheek, glancing out the window. The moon’s drifting across the sky, city lights washing away the stars. It feels warm, and something syrupy makes its home in your chest.

Of course! <3

You narrow your eyes, thumb hovering over the send button. You delete the heart and hit send. A stillness hangs over you, as you wait. When your phone lights up with his incoming call, you sit up, bringing your knees to your chest. Tentatively, you accept the call.

“Hi,” you murmur, trying not to feel shy. He’s fucked you before; a phone call should be nothing. You flush, shaking your head at the thought.

“Is there something you wanted to talk about?” you offer hesitantly.

“Not particularly, just wanted to hear your voice.” A smile unfurls on your face, and you let yourself fall back onto your bed, your legs spreading out in front of you.

“Oh I see, you go a few days without stopping by Sweet Bean, and you just go crazy without me.” He stutters at your words, not able to form a reasonable answer. You laugh at his panic, but change the topic, offering him a way out.

“How’s work going?” He sighs in relief at the question.

“I worked on some lesson plans, and the students will be leaving for camp in a few days.” Your eyes slightly widen as you remember the way Midoryiya said everyone was excited.

“Right, camp! That’ll be fun for them!”

“They’re there to train. But the Pussycats will treat them well.” You bolt upright at his casual tone.

“The Pussycats? As in The Wild, Wild Pussycats? The hero squad?” you ask, desperate for confirmation. He laughs but reassures you that it’s true. Your rest your head in your palm as the realization that Toshinori probably knows some really famous heroes settles in. Your thoughts drift back to the green-haired boy you met and the scars that litter his skin.

“And Midoriya will be going too, right?” you ask. He makes a noise of affirmation, but something lingers: an unspoken worry, a hint of doubt.

“Are you worried for him?” you question lightly, trying to get a better grasp at what’s eating away at him. Toshinori sighs into the receiver, the silence hanging heavily between you too. You hold your breath, waiting for whatever he’s debating over to spill out and into the phone.

“I want him to push himself and grow stronger, but not to the point where he breaks his bones. But Aizawa will be there, and I trust him.” You hum into the phone, brows furrowing with concern. He feels farther away than normal, the phone distorting his voice, but not doing much to hide the fact that he’s avoiding something. A seed of doubt lodges itself in the hollow of your chest, but you drop the subject. Whatever Toshinori’s hiding isn’t coming out anytime soon.

You frown thinking of the first time he slipped up. It was subtle, so tiny that you could’ve easily missed it. Just a few inconsistencies about where he had been. They were small enough that you didn’t say anything, and there’s a chance that you were overthinking it. But at the same time, it sat uncomfortably in your chest, where it rests now, weighing you down. You lie back, letting yourself flop against the bed.

“Besides working on lesson plans, what else are you doing over the next few weeks?”

“Not a lot,” he answers quickly, relieved at the change of topic. “I have some meetings, but that’s it really.” You nod to yourself, a sly grin spreading on your face.

“So, would you be interested in, I don’t know, having another date?” You hear him sputter into the receiver, and you practically see flames of red spreading from the tips of his ears to paint his cheeks. “And it’s not that I don’t like you coming to Sweet Bean, but it’d be nice to see you other places too,” you murmur. His breath catches and you bite your lip, trying to stifle a giggle at his reaction.

“I’d like that very much.” Toshinori’s voice is soft, sending butterflies gently floating through your stomach. You sit up again, nervously tapping your fingers against your thigh.

“Good. I was worried you were beginning to lose interest,” you tease. He lets out a laugh at the notion.

“Sweet girl,” he groans, making you flush, memories of the last time he called you that overwhelm your brain. “I’ll take you anywhere you want.”

“There’s a small festival that’s going on, actually. It’s some sort of dance competition I think. Would you wanna go tomorrow and check it out?”

“It’s a date.” A large smile forms on your face, and you make a satisfied noise.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you whisper.

“Goodnight, sweet girl.”

Laying your phone down in your lap, you look out the window and your brows crease, the twinge of concern solidifying its roots. The city lights look a lot colder now.

_________

The festival is wonderful, full of games, a variety of colors, and inviting scents. You had been right, and it was some sort of dance festival, much to your delight. Troupes of dancers in beautiful, flowing, clothing performed in the street all day.

You let out a little hum as you bring a spoonful of kakigori to your mouth. The sun hangs low in the sky, painting the scattering of clouds gold, and shining beautifully in Toshinori’s hair. You glance up at Toshi, before pulling the spoon out of your mouth and offering it to him. He grins sharply, accepting the spoon and taking a bite of the shaved ice.

“I swear, those people have the best topping options,” you exclaim. He scoffs at you, shaking his head as he returns the spoon.

“I’m pretty sure they’re the same as they are everywhere.” You narrow your eyes at him and pout. Toshi’s eyes widen before he lets out a laugh that resounds in the air around you, enveloping you in something warm and soft.

“I mean, you are right. Their menu is special,” he corrects himself, shoving a hand into his pocket. You laugh at him, before carefully holding the kakigori with one hand, and sliding your other arm around the one he just placed in his pocket. You rest your head on his arm, and when you glance up, a deep red blooms at the tips of his ears. You grin before looking towards the crowds on the street.

“I kind of wanna see another performance. What about you?” you ask. A noise of agreement rumbles through his chest, and the two of you walk towards the mass of people. You never let Toshinori go, holding him close until you reach the crowd. Making sure to keep an eye on your kakigori, you take his hand, trying to guide the two of you forward, but the crowd is surprisingly dense. You stand on your tiptoes, trying to see the current group of dancers that were performing, jealous of Toshinori’s height.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he gently pulls his hand away from yours. His eyes flicker over to you, and then back to his phone. You take another bite of your kakigori as you wait for him to tell you what’s wrong. Toshinori shifts uncomfortably on his feet, reluctantly looking back at you. Your stomach drops at the way his pointed face is twisted.

“There was an emergency at the school. I have to go.” Your brows shoot upwards. You had not been expecting a school emergency. Especially when they’re on break. But then again, it’s one of the most prestigious schools in the country, and some of the classes are about to go to a training camp.

You set your spoon down in the ice, and you nod, forcing a smile onto your face.

“I understand. Don’t worry about it.” His shoulders sag in relief, but you smirk and bat your eyelashes at him. “But I was looking forward to taking you home again.” Something full of pain and longing slips into his eyes, and his mouth fixes itself into a sad smile.

“Let’s have dinner tomorrow night. If you’re free.” Toshinori sounds sad as he says it, and you reach up to gently grab the side of his arm.

“Sounds good. I’ll see you then.” Your words give him permission to leave, and yet he hesitates. You squeeze his arm in reassurance. “It’s okay, Toshi.” He nods down at you, before stalking off into the crowd. You let out a sigh and turn back towards the dancers, taking another bite of the sweet kakigori.

_________

Toshinori is late. A twinge of annoyance flickers in your chest. He had already called you, apologizing to you about not being able to pick you up because something had kept him at work, and he was just now heading out. That was thirty minutes ago.

Starting to get flustered by the sad glances the waitress keeps sending your way, you pull out your phone pulling up Toshinori’s contact again. Before you hit the call button, Toshinori is sliding into the seat across from you. You blink blankly at him, before slowly setting your phone down on the table.

Something hot and sharp grows in your chest. He looks worn out, as if he’s being spread too thin, tugged in too many directions. He’s always looked tired, and you partially think whatever caused his scar is to blame, but this, this is different. A small frown forms on his face, and you reach out, resting your hand on his.

“Is everything okay?” you ask quietly. His eyes flicker between your hands and your concerned face. Toshinori’s face softens before he shifts his hand to squeeze yours lightly.

“I’m just glad to be here now.” You flush under his gaze and tighten your hand in his.

“I’m glad you’re here now, too,” you murmur. His large, calloused thumb strokes the back of your hand. You lean forward, wanting to bask in this moment. Toshinori mimics you, a smile tugging at his mouth. Your eyes trail up and down his face, and the tips of his ears turn red. Eventually, the waitress comes by again, and she looks relieved that someone’s finally joined you. She takes your order happily and manages to make only one comment about how long you’ve been waiting, much to your horror.

“Anyways, how was your day?” he chokes out once the waitress scurries off. Giving his hand one last squeeze, you pull it away, drawing back into yourself.

“It was fine. Same as every day. I’m sure your’s was more interesting.” Leaning against the table rest your head in your hand, looking at him expectantly. His eyes widen, and he opens his mouth, but before he can get a word out, he’s interrupted.

His phone buzzes on vibrate, and you bite the inside of your cheek. Toshinori exhales shakily, and he rubs the back of his head sheepishly. His face is downcast, shoulders slipped, and he meets your eyes reluctantly.

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” he starts, but you just shake your head cutting him off.

“It’s okay. We can reschedule,” you try to say brightly, ignoring the cold feeling seeping into your bones. He nods at you sadly and rises from the table. His mouth quirks up sadly, and he ducks down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. When he pulls away, Toshinori leans his forehead against yours and brings his hand up to caress the side of your face.

“Tomorrow,” he reassures. You nod against him, and he’s gone, tearing out of the restaurant in a flash. You twirl your straw in your drink and purse your lips, brain twisting along with the liquid. A frigid thought pierces through your muddled mind: maybe he wasn’t interested in you and didn’t know how to let you down? When the waitress drops off the check, she smiles sadly at you; you wish you were a thousand miles away.

_________

He doesn’t even make it the next night. You’re left by yourself for about an hour, trying to ignore the pitying looks from the waiter. You had been excited earlier, watching as the sun sinks lower and lower, until the sweet orange shifts into soft pinks and deep blues. But it’s dark outside now, and you feel nauseous.

Your phone rings, jolting you from your thoughts. Your mouth twists into a small frown when you see it’s Toshinori. You let it ring, tilting your head to the side as you look at his contact picture. It’s a selfie of both of you holding to-go cups from Sweet Bean. He had to duck down to fit into the frame, a pretty blush covering his face as he looks at you with more tenderness than you’re used to. You had taken it when he walked you home from the police station with the intention of sending it to Aiko. Taking a deep breath, you answer the call.

“Hi.” You wince at how pathetic your voice sounds.

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” Toshinori practically yells. His frantic tone jolts you out of your self wallowing pity.

“Toshinori, what’s wrong?” Your stomach flips as your mind races through all the worse case scenarios.

“There was a villain attack at the camp, and -” he breathes in sharply, trying to calm himself down. “I won’t be able to make it tonight.”

“Oh my god, do not worry about it. Do what you need to. I’ll talk to you later,” you reassure him, guilt pooling in your stomach. He quickly sputters out a goodbye, and the line goes dead. You walk home by yourself, and the entire time you think of those girls laughing inside Sweet Bean just a few days ago. When you finally go to sleep, your cheeks are wet and your eyes are sore.

It’s only the next day that you find out one of the students has been kidnapped. Bakugou Katsuki. You don’t know him, but you recognize him from the Sports Festival.

You close Sweet Bean for the day.

_________

Aiko is over the next night, watching you from the couch while you tend to the tea plants on your tiny balcony. She’s brought over takeout that’s been forgotten in your kitchen. You’re much too focused on trying to stay busy.

You hold the plants tenderly, trying to turn on the faucet of warmth inside you.

It’s foolish to be this worried about someone you don’t even know, but you can’t help it. You’ve met his classmates (and you are constantly worrying about them now), you know some of his teachers, and it’s horrible that he’s been kidnapped. It twists your stomach, and you bite back the bile that’s threatening to rise.

Your hands stay cold.

“Y/N, you should see this!” Aiko calls from the living room. Standing up, you wipe your hands on your pants and join her. On the screen is Aizawa, another teacher, and the principal of U.A. Your nerves pool in your stomach at seeing how much worse the bags under Aizawa’s eyes have gotten; you can’t help but think of Toshinori.

You space out, chewing on your lip nervously as the conference comes to an end. You hadn’t heard from him all day, and considering what was going on, that’s to be expected. But you just want to know if he’s okay. The panicked tone that was in his voice plays on a loop in your mind.

Aiko’s gasp jolts you back to reality, and your eyes zero in on the screen. There's a fight being televised. You squint, trying to make out the hero as the camera zooms and refocuses. It’s All Might, you realize. A shallow sense of relief overwhelms you. He’ll take care of this. But to your horror, the villain’s power is on par with his. You reach out, gripping Aiko’s arm, your jaw clenching.

Your brain slinks back to the day he had chastised you for running recklessly into a situation. It’s best to leave situations like this up to the professionals. That’s what he had said to you that day. And then he had stuck his neck out for you for no reason. He can’t lose. He can’t lose. He can’t lose, fuck.

You watch, mouth tightened into a firm line, as he takes a beating. After another forceful blow, Aiko stills next to you, the atmosphere between you two crystallizing into something cold and sticky as your jaw slackens.

On the screen, in All Might’s now baggy outfit, covered in blood is Yagi Toshinori.

________________________

Taglist: @bougainvilliea713otaku @chou-maitresse​