#I was in a hurry with this stamp so it's pretty messy

[dumbkiri]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕎𝕚𝕗𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝔾𝕠𝕛𝕠 𝕊𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕦 『3』

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ: ꜱᴛᴀʏ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴɪᴍᴇ ꜱ2

The night of the Shibuya Incident has pushed [Name] to do the extreme; consuming Nami's soul to inherit the full power of blessed energy. Everyone will feel her presence even the King of Curses, Sukuna.

Leave a request in my inbox, comment down below for more! Also if you see misspelled names like Kenjaku...take it up with Google.

“Good morning, pretty girl.” 

The sun’s bright light was the thing to actually wake her up besides the voice of her loved one. His voice was so soothing and his smile could rival the stars twinkling at night. 

“Come on, open your eyes and let’s get our day started.” 

His warm touch sent shivers down her arms as he caressed her shoulder blades. He fixed the loose strap of her shirt  hanging off her shoulder back into place. Then she felt her small bed dip knowing that he was sitting next to her slumped body. 

“One of your rose bushes-”

“What’s wrong with them?” [Name] jumped out of her bed wearing a tank top and pajama shorts. She didn’t even bother to brush her messy hair, instead she bolted to her closest and put some sandals on in a hurry. 

“One of your rose bushes is blooming faster than the others.” 

The male teen on her bed finished with a jesting smile on his handsome face. With this information, [Name] pouted and said to her friend, “Suguru, that was really messed up. You made me worried there.” 

“So worried that you jumped up to examine your rose bushes rather than getting ready for the mission we are sent on?” Suguru asked and pushed himself off her bed. He walked over to her and brushed her hair down to make it look somewhat presentable. 

Then someone else barged into her dorm with a loud greeting, “Good morning, earth worm! It’s time to go on a mission with your best friends!” 

[Name] yawned and stretched her arms out, “Ah~ Good morning, Toru!” Then she focused back on the black haired male, “I’ll meet you guys out there, I need to prepare some tea for us and we’ll be on our way.” 

She made her way to her closet and picked out her uniform while Suguru pushed Satoru out of her bedroom. Her door closes with a soft click and their footsteps fading away. [Name] looked at the closed door and sighed, “Geez, there’s different ways to wake me up. Next time they barge in, gimme some flower seeds or something.” 

……

“It’s been awhile, pretty girl.” 

Pretty girl…[Name]’s eyes blurred with sad tears and her hands trembled by her sides. Suguru Geto was standing right in front of her as well as a captured Satoru Gojo. 

“Not going to greet me back? Did you forget who I am?” 

She looked at Satoru and he stared back at her in clear surprise. He didn’t think she could actually cross the veils that blocked other sorcerers out. Sure, she had blessed energy, but only he was allowed in. Her blessed energy really defied all odds against her. This is what she meant back then when she spoke about her unique technique.

[Name] swallowed the lump in her throat and she wiped her tears away with a shaky breath. She had to pull this off, her domain expansion could save these people still. With Nami’s soul combining with hers, she had every ability inherited. Including the Domain Expansion: Heavenly Garden which can only be casted by Nami. 

It completely erases cursed energy from anyone captured in it. It heals all afflictions and wounds; internal, physical and mental. It makes every negative emotion disperse and is replaced by kindness for everyone. 

That being said, if the cursed spirits get captured in it, they immediately perish. 

“Su..Suguru…” [Name] stopped crying and her act of benevolence made Satoru worry for her,“I can never forget you.” She removed her hands away from her eyes and she stamped a smile on her face, a chuckle of relief heard from her. 

“You should know that I consumed Nami’s soul to save my husband and the people in Shibuya. I am granting you this fair warning, Suguru. If you are caught in my domain expansion, you along with-”

“Boo!” The cursed spirit known as patchface appeared from behind [Name] and he jumped right at her without taking her warning from earlier seriously. She stated that she consumed Nami’s soul meaning she has complete control over the blessed energy Nami was providing her with. 

But she didn’t want to dispose of this curse yet. She wanted to speak to it first and then kill him for good. With incredible speed and strength that matched Sukuna’s, [Name] spun around and smacked Mahito’s hand away from her face.

“Get away from her, Mahito!” Suguru shouted, he didn’t want to lose Mahito. His technique was valuable!

[Name] smacked her right palm into Mahito’s face then slammed his whole body onto the floor with a neutral look on her face. “So you do have a name,” [Name] hummed and began squeezing his face in her grasp, “but why should I care? The people you killed had names, families, lives to live at their own will. You killed them all for the sake of fun, didn’t you?” 

Mahito was struggling to get out of her hold. His legs kicked haphazardly underneath her body and he squirmed like a worm.  “I don’t like seeing people around me suffer, not even a curse like you. But you caused suffering for my favorite student. You laughed in his face in his tormented moment.”

Jogo took a step forward to the woman and Mahito, ready to help the childish cursed spirit. Yet Kenjaku stuck his hand out and instructed the hothead to stay in place. He spoke with his face scrunching up in anger, “We don’t stand a chance against her. Mahito is finished and we need to leave.” 

[Name] heard the rising anger in that spirit that took over her loved one’s body and she crushed Mahito’s head with ease. Mahito was successfully terminated, never coming back into this world. “I was going to have fun tormenting him, Suguru~” [Name] softly sang and pushed herself off of Mahito’s disintegrating body. 

Jogo watched in fear as he saw no blood around her hand or the existence that Mahito was there. Instead Mahito was gone without a trace. “Oh?” [Name] wiped the dust off her beige slack and rolled the sleeves of her [f.color] cardigan up to her elbows, “Don’t tell me you don’t know how blessed energy works.”

“W-what did you do to him?” Jogo stuttered out and took one step back. 

[Name] kept her straight face and sighed, “I got rid of him for good. When a curse is exorcized by me, they don’t come back at all. Your friend, Mahito has been on my list for a long time and he really thought he could fight me.  A foolish mistake, don’t you think, Suguru?” 

Kenjaku’s eyes narrowed a bit and he looked over at Gojo to see the blue eyed male have a smirk on his face. This whole situation was getting out of hand. 

“Gate: Close.”

“Satoru!” [Name] shouted in surprise of her husband getting sealed. A bouquet of flowers appeared in her right hand and she threw it at the white haired male. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She cursed herself for prolonging the conversations, her first priority should have been Satoru. 

Another person woke up from the trance of Infinite Void and [Name] had no choice, but to flee. She could exorcise them all in Heavenly Garden, although her body was getting extremely exhausted. From consuming Nami, to getting here and passing through the veils that wanted her out, to killing Mahito. She didn’t let herself rest after binding her soul to a goddess. 

“Blessed: Sun’s Warmth,” [Name] casted out her technique and each non-sorcerer was enveloped in a golden bubble of protection. “I’m coming back for him, fake.” [Name] declared and with that all the bubbles that had the entranced people in them popped. The humans were gone as well as the reborn goddess, Nami. 

“I’m going to find Sukuna’s vessel and give him the rest of the fingers,” Jogo looked up at Kenjaku and before the black haired male could respond, the prison realm slammed itself on the train platform. 

“It seems the prison realm is still trying to figure out what Gojo Satoru is. We’re lucky [Name] didn’t stay long enough to see this.” 

“Don’t you mean, Nami?” Jogoi questioned and watched Choso leave the floor. He knew he was also after Sukuna’s vessel, but only to kill him. 

Kenjaku shook his head and plopped himself on the floor next to the box, “No,  I mean, [Name]. She ate the flower that held Nami’s soul and usually the stronger one, which would be Nami, would be in control of the body. Yet [Name] continues to surpass her limits and consume Nami’s soul, taking all of the blessed power for herself. She’s now the Goddess of the Flowers.” 

“Well this is just great! We need to get Sukuna to do something about her! She’s going to-”

Kenjaku chuckled and stared at the box, “What makes you think Sukuna wants to get rid of Nami?” 

“Huh, but you said that Nami wasn’t-”

“I did say that Nami was gone, but Sukuna will be fooled by her god-like presence inside of [Name]. And being the pretty girl she is, [Name] is going to fool Sukuna like she fooled me. She knew I wasn’t Suguru Geto the entire time. Those tears were just for show to catch us off guard.” 

Jogo became his usual grouchy self and slouched some more, “Why do you keep calling that woman, pretty girl?” 

Kenjaku shrugged his shoulders with that same smile on his face, “Force of habit!” 

…..

Meanwhile Satoru was in the realm sitting on top of bones with a smile on his face. He plucked a petal of the rose and dropped it on his tongue. This bouquet [Name] threw at him was grown by blessed energy and he was eating it like it was normal. 

“Satoru, you have to try this for me, please!” 

[Name] ran into the house with a giant grin on her face. A rose was in her hand free of thorns and it looked super pretty. He could have sworn it sparkled under the kitchen light. 

“[Name], it’s two in the morning. Are you seriously gardening right now?” He chuckled and took the rose from her excited hands. 

“I waited for you to come home and your mission took longer than it normally does. Anyways, my project is finished! I can now give people a bit of blessed energy! Girls, come in!” [Name] walked down the hallway and pushed her small servant girls into the kitchen. 

“Don’t tell me you force fed them petals,” Satoru laughed again and set the rose onto the kitchen counter. 

With a roll of her eyes, [Name] presented the six year olds and instructed Satoru to take his blindfold off. “Okay I did anyways, can you tell the difference between the girls?” She asked in anticipation and Satoru hummed as his six eyes took in the energy around the trio. 

“Wow,” He whispered and he crouched down to be their height, “Why does the middle one have more of a range and it’s thicker than the other two?” The blessed energy around the middle one was amazing to see especially since she isn’t a part of the [L.Name] Clan. 

“Because she ate three flowers! And this was from yesterday’s lunch!” [Name] jumped in the air with joy. After years of trying to experiment on blessed energy and trying to protect her peers, she finally succeeded.  Satoru was super proud of her for reaching this point. 

“Don’t you know what that means? It means people can use blessed energy and use techniques! They can do Sun’s Warmth, Fallen Petals, Wisteria’s Sway-”

Satoru stood up and smiled, putting his blindfold back on, “Okay, okay, I hear you. We should let the girls sleep though then we can discuss tomorrow's day. We’re both free of missions and I really want to spend time with you.” 

The servant girls left with a few giggles seeing the lady of the house blush furiously. “Satoru, you can’t talk like that in front of the girls!” She whined embarrassed and walked into his open arms. “They already tease me saying I have a crush on you.” 

“Well you had a crush on me for a while now, don’t you think?”

“Anyways~” [Name] sang and breathed in his cologne,  her face snuggling closer to his chest, “Imagine what you can do with blessed energy. Nothing would touch you, you’d be unstoppable.”

“I already am,” Satoru confidently said and kissed the top of her head. “Also if you’re going to feed me flower petals, I want honey with mine.” 

“You got it, Toru!”

Satoru smiled fondly at the memory and took the plastic bear full of honey out of his pocket. “No matter what she does, she’s always catching my attention. Ah~ I miss her already” Satrou looked at the roses and sighed, “Stay beautiful, my earthworm, I’ll be out soon enough.” 

[tsoyster]

[mrvlbimbo]

hello i'm such a huge fan of your works, you're absolutely one of my favorite writers here (｡・//ε//・｡). my request is : where reader secretly leaves romantic notes/messages at eddie's locker to show him that people like them admires him so much. then eddie caught them in the act of leaving another poem and you can go beyond your imagination after that. thank you so much and i hope you're having an amazing day !!!

Ughhhhhh I love this smmmmmm.

Not rlly any warnings it’s pretty fluffy, one or two mentions of masterbation, cliffhanger (pt 2 maybe)

pt 1/2/3/4

Pt2 here

It started out innocent enough, Eddie finding a heart shaped post it note in his locker with romantic song lyrics scribbled on the back of it.

He had assumed someone left it in the wrong locker, considering his was mostly unmarked and unused.

Then there was another note the next day. A pinkish cream piece of paper, the kind someone would buy at a specialized stationary store. It was tied with a red ribbon and the writing was the same color.

A sweet and only slightly creepy letter written about how pretty he was, stamped with a sparkly pink lipgloss kiss and doused in perfume.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t jerk off to the thought of it later, the sweet floral scent of the paper invading his mind all day and night.

The notes continued, each more personal than the last, always packaged so prettily. But they never gave any sort of clue about who she might be.

After a few weeks he finally came up with a plan. He would leave a letter in his locker for her to find, that way they could communicate.

Snatching a random notebook from one of his classmates, he ripped out a sheet and scrawled a note on it.

Dear secret admirer person,

Uh hi. I don’t know how to write letters. Who are you? Wait no that’s rude, first of all thank you. But I do really want to know who you are because your handwriting is so pretty and your notes are so sweet and I like the way your perfume smells. Ok bye. Do you say bye in letters? Whatever, goodbye anyways. P.S. your notes make me really horny.

He scribbled a messy heart at the bottom and signed the letter with his signature, slipping it into his locker when he left school for the day.

The next day he opened an empty locker, finding no note inside. This trend continued for the next three days, no response to his letter. He feared he had scared his admirer away.

The weekend came and went and when he returned to school that morning he didn’t bother to check his locker. The whole school was ushered into a pep rally before he even had time to bother with it.

The band played an upbeat congratulatory melody as the cheerleading team rushed in. “Give a warm welcome back to our very own Hawkins Cheer team,” someone announced.

They had been gone for the better half of the last week, at some regional competition. Bam lightbulb moment! His admirer was one of the cheerleaders.

And sure enough when he checked his locker later that day there was a brown paper package tied neatly with a red bow. It was addressed with a heart shaped sticker.

For Eddie (open in private)

It was signed with only a heart, much more carefully drawn than the one on his own note.

He didn’t bother to finish the day, leaving school with a hurried excuse so he could open his gift in the privacy of his home.

And it was worth it. Wrapped in the paper, was a small vial of sweet smelling perfume, a cassette tape, and a pair of cute pink panties.

Attached was another note.

For when you’re thinking of me

He had to know who this girl was, it was driving him insane. He figured maybe if he never left his locker he would catch her leaving the note.

Later that week, after his DnD session, he camped out infront of his locker. First he checked for a note to see if she had already struck. The locker was empty.

He waited all night, dozing off at about 3 in the morning.

He ducked behind the corner, watching intently to see who it was. Sure enough it was his girl, she hummed a song he didn’t recognize while she carefully looked around. One hand clutched a note while the other played with a heart locket around her neck.

“It’s you,” he whispered, stepping out from his hiding place.

“Jesus fucking hell-“ she yelped, jumping slightly at the sound of his voice.

“What brings you here so early?” He asked, stepping closer and effectively caging her between him and the lockers.

“I’m always here early. Cheer practice,” she explained, her eyes searching the empty hallway for an escape.

“Good to know.” One of his hands came down to cup her waist, sliding her closer to him. His other hand gripped her chin, tilting her face up to look him in the eyes.

“Yep. Yeah. Good to know,” she agreed, flinching slightly when the first bell rang. People started to filter into the hallways and they broke apart.

“Meet me in the woods behind school during lunch,” he whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and kissing her cheek quickly.

“O-ok,” she stammered, but he was long gone, not having bothered to wait and hear her answer.

Taglist here

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(Lmk if u want to be added)

[proserpina-magnus]

hi! If you take requests can you write a reader x Remus fluff? where they are usually studying together and helping each other out, talking about books etc. it is obvious for everyone that they like each other, but not for them.

maybe the reader could be a little shy, but really positive? and Remus is completely smitten by her and also feels protective of her?

whatever you decide I’m sure it will be amazing, hope it’s not too much

thank you for your work, you’re truly amazing!

heyy, this has been in my inbox for weeks and I'm so sorry this took so long!! I loved how descriptive you where and I hope that you don't mind that I changed the plot just a tad. Remus kind of confesses to being a werewolf soo.. I hope you like it!! xoxo

Monsters Need Love Too [ R.L ]

word count: 2.5k

[ warnings: female reader, slight jealously, tears, slight possessive behavior/words, clothes sharing, first kisses, had holding, scars, slight talk about violence, Remus's friends embarrass him, flattering ]

editor: @breakingniconicokneecaps

Remus anxiously tapped his foot, you had promised him that you both would meet up for a study session before a big potions test. You had been running late, caught up with fixing your hair or finding missing quills.

Remus kept looking towards the library door, tapping his fingers on the wooden table. There had been cracks of brown throughout the wood, Remus watched eagerly towards the doors as his dainty finger traced over the dark spiral wooden pattern.

He felt his heart putter against his rib cage, a nervous sensation creeping into his mind as he started to worry about you. It had been 10 minutes since you both originated the time to meet up, Remus was just about to stand to go look for you, but you had just hurried into the library.

He watched your frantic state walk swiftly towards him, your hair pinned back with loose strands. He smiled, pushing the chair beside him open. You flopped yourself down onto the opened chair, your books and papers left a thud as you dropped them onto the desk.

"So sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my assignment, I might have to re-do it all," you stammered, opening your books with marked stamps. You sighed, before giving a smile towards Remus. "Oh well, at least I'll have a better understanding of the material,"

Remus looked lovingly towards you, rubbing his sweaty hands on his slacks. He looked towards his own opened book, moving his papers around as he passed you his finished assignment.

"If you want, you can take a look at mine," Remus suggested, but you only shook your head and looked back towards a student who sat across a few tables. The guy you smiled at was Amos Diggory, the captain of Hufflepuff's quidditch team. Amo's had combed back messy blond hair, a boyish grin on his face as he waved towards you. Remus followed your gaze, catching the small interaction. He felt a sense of urgency to have your attention back on him.

"That's alright rem, Amo said he would help me later. Let's work on potions shall we?" You said, guiding your attention back to your books. Remus gave a disgruntled sound, his leg bouncing as it tapped into yours.

"You alright?" You asked, knees twitching every time his own knocked into yours. Remus hummed, lips thin as he focused down on his book. You felt like you did something wrong, a frown forming as you flipped some pages.

After a few moments of awkward silence, your eyes travelled towards the taller male. He was hunched over his book, his hand in a fist that rested on his bouncing thigh.

"Did I do something wrong? Are you mad I'm late?" You mumbled quietly, leaning forward as Remus turned his gaze to you. He saw your pleading eyes, a sad pout on your lips at the thought of upsetting him. Remus concluded that you were just too cute to be mad at, not that he was prior.

"No, I'm not mad," Remus huffed, tearing his eyes away from yours. Truth be told, Remus had no idea why he was so upset. You mumbled at his lame lie, your fingers tracing his wrist as you glided your hand to open up his fist. Remus jerked at the faint touch, eyes pouring at the connecting hands.

"You seem mad," you whispered gently, trying not to cause attention in the silent room. Remus brought his gaze back to your face, seeing your beautiful eyes and a small welcoming smile on your lips. His fingers opened, your own wiggling between them.

"How could I possibly be mad when you look like that," Remus blurted, in a daze. You flushed red at the compliment. You wanted so desperately for him to kiss you, Remus felt the same exact way. Before a gentle kiss could be shared, you turned back around and faced towards your book.

"You flatter too much," you teased, your shoulder bumping in with his. You didn't dare take your fingers away from his, liking the way his scars felt rigid and warm against your palm.

"I don't think I flatter enough," Remus stated, his eyes still trained on your adoring profile. You flushed once more, a swirl in your stomach from his words. Remus gushed himself at your flustered state, denying himself the right to lean in and place a kiss against your red cheeks.

"You know what I think?" You ask, turning your head so you can take a long look into his eyes. Remus leaned forward, his nose almost brushing yours. "What do you think?" He asked in response, his voice a low hum.

"I think if anyone should be flattered, it's you. You're a very attractive young man, if I do say so myself Mr. Remus," you flaunt, a giggle on your lips as you close your eyes from the laugh. Remus smiles, watching the way your cheeks rose with your smile. He was absolutely adoring your giggle form, but it was soon to be crushed by his friends.

"Uh- hello! What's going on here?" Sirius's voice boomed through, the three boys marched over to you two. Your hand fell away from Remus's, a small frown on your lips before you replaced it with a smile.

"We're just studying," you say sweetly, turning around so you can get a good look at them. Sirius raises an eyebrow, a suggestive gaze in his eyes as he stares between you two. Remus grows anxious, wanting his friends to leave as soon as possible.

"Studying what? Human anatomy?" Sirius jeers, a smirk on his lips as he leans closer. James and Peter laugh, obvious to Remus's dire crush on you.

You turn to mush at the gesture, turning back to your book as you hide your glowing face. Remus notices, upset at the way they were getting you embarrassed.

"Leave it pads, go bug off, all three of you," Remus sends a low growl to the male, but the rest of the boys only laugh and continue to talk. James pushes a seat open next to you, Remus giving him a dangerous glare.

"She's very pretty" James gushed, one of his fingers poking your sides. You squirm, but decide to be polite and smile towards James. You can't even tell him a thank you before Remus is telling them off.

"Prongs, get up and piss off," Remus states, his hand wrapping around the leg of your chair as he scoots you away from him. You grab your stuff, placing it in front of you. James frowns, tilting his head to give Remus a puppy dog expression.

"Can I stay?" Peter asked his own pout on his lips. Remus sighs loudly, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No,"

"But moony!" They all chant at once, shushes and glares get shared between you all. Remus sighs one more time, deciding not to freak out and yell at all of them in front of you. The tall brunette collects his stuff, pushing it into his bag in a messy hurry. You frown, watching him pack up. You thought he was leaving with his friends, but Remus starts to take your own books and papers. With his empty hand grabbing yours, He pulls you up, tugging you out the door.

The rest of the boys shout behind him, trying to follow you both. Remus leads you down the hallway, a smile on his lips as he pats your shoulder for some comfort. "One second love, just wait here,"

Remus speeds over to the boys at the other end of the hall, far away enough for you not to hear them. They start to argue, hearing Remus raise his voice. Soon enough, the three boys look towards the ground and scoot away down the opposite hallway.

Remus jogs back over to you, smiling as he runs a hand through his hair. You bring out your hand, making a grabbing gesture. He places his hand into yours, taking the lead as he guides you down the hallway.

"Where are we going?" You questioned, stepping down the switching staircases. Remus turns briefly at the end of the steps, waiting for it to connect with another. "It's a sunny day, let's go sit on the dock,"

"What about our potions test?" You asked, following Remus down the now given steps. He steps onto the cobblestone floors, helping you off the last step.

"It's not until Friday, we have plenty of time tomorrow. You deserve a break," Remus states, pushing open a thin wooden door out towards the back of the huge castle. He takes you down the small hill, holding your hand to protect you from tripping.

"Watch your step," he says, stepping down the small steep hill. His other hand holds your waist, squeezing it between his fingers as he helps you down.

"You're my saviour," you whisper in gratitude, leaning more towards him. The air gets thicker and the breeze grows colder as you step towards the doc.

"You get pleased too easily," Remus comments, his hand squeezing yours. You turn your head, tilting it as you walk against the wooden space.

"Is that a bad thing?" You ask, Remus looked over at you briefly. He has an unreadable face before he shakes his head.

"No, unless you're thanking the wrong person," Remus explains, walking further along the doc. He helps you sit first, following suit as his legs sprawl out. He has much longer limbs, you giggle as he stretches.

"Everyone's so nice, who could possibly be the wrong person?" You wonder, head leaning against his shoulder. Remus sighs, answering that question quickly in his intrusive thoughts. You shiver, tugging your skirt down towards your knees.

"What? Do you think you're bad?" You ask, lifting your head to get a clear look at the boy. Remus lets his head lean down, a frown on his face. You hold a confused expression, your heart aching at the thought. Before you can think, your fingers tilt his head. Remus looks with wide eyes, seeing your saddened expression.

"Remus, you're the nicest person I've ever met," you explain, emotion in your eyes as you talk to him. Remus screams at himself, knowing you had no idea what he really was.

"You need to meet new people," he jokes, but you only shake your head with a deeper frown.

His heart beats quickly, your eyes guiding down to his chapped lips. He picks up instantly on your intentions and he has no remorse to stop them.

Your eyes shut on instinct, lips moving closer to his. Your head tilts, nose brushing against his as you connect mouths. Remus expresses a content sigh, his own eyes closed. His fingers lace through the back of your hair, pulling you closer.

"You don't understand," Remus sighs after the kiss, eyes whisking open. You flutter your eyelashes, sitting back on your legs. You frown, thinking he didn't like the kiss.

"Then make me understand," you tell him, heart hammering inside your chest so loud you might go deaf. Remus smiles, one of his hands still occupied with yours. His other hand cups your face, sliding it through your loose hair.

"You'll hate me once I tell you," Remus whispers, feeling tears burn his eyesight. He wishes he'd never got bitten, he didn't want you to think he was some sort of monster.

You shake your head, leaning closer as you kiss his lips once more. Remus pulls you in, addicted to the way your mouth tastes. He pushes you back slightly, feeling guilty for not telling you what he truly is.

"I'm a werewolf," Remus says, ripping off the bandaid. You blink a few times, not comprehending what he just said. Your eyes dangle down to his scarred hands, your soft thumb tracing a particularly big one.

"Does it hurt?" You quip, eyes looking back into his. Remus feels instantly loved at your small little reaction, his heart swelling as he realizes that you only care whether he's hurt, not that he turns into a killer creature every full moon.

"No," Remus lied, a tear falling from his eye. You nod, happy with his answer. Your cold fingers come to wipe away the lost tear. you lean in for another kiss, but Remus pushes you back.

"I'm a werewolf," he states once again, you nod in understanding. "I can kill you,"

"Do you want to hurt me?" You mumble, Remus feels worried build up from just thinking about it. He shakes his head, head falling as he lets out more tears.

"Then it doesn't matter," you finish, leaning down so you can get your much wanted kiss. Remus leans into it, another sigh on his lips as he pulls you closer. The waves crash against the doc, coating the wood just in front of you with seeping water.

"I can't control myself in that state, I could hurt you," Remus whispers against your lips, his arms wrapping around your sides as he pulls you in. You sigh, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"No, the werewolf would hurt me. It's not your fault, you can't control it," you tell him, sticking with your conclusion. Remus would never dare hurt you and you knew that.

"You're too good, what is a monster like me doing with you, hm?" Remus says, his fingers tilting your chin as he places a generous kiss against your cold lips. A smile decorated on your mouth, you shift closer to him. His body was so warm and you felt so cold, you were almost slipping under his coat for warmth.

"You're no monster," you whisper, Remus notices your shivering body. He felt sick for taking you out to the cold doc, tugging off his coat quickly as he props it on your shoulders.

"I monster wouldn't let his girl freeze to death," he contorts, rubbing your arms to get you to warm up. Your face heats at his words, you couldn't help but smile.

"I'm your girl?" You ask, leaning closer as you shift onto his lap. Remus's long limbs curl around you, bringing you closer as he protects you from the now vicious wind. His hair whips in every direction, the wind so tough you can hear it.

"Yes, you're my girl," Remus juts, standing up with ease as you cling onto him. He adjusts you easily, hiding you inside his big coat. Your head rests against his chest, his arms hiking around your bottom to carry you up the hill.

"All yours," you mumble, happy with the soft protection he was offering. Your arms link around his neck, not daring to let go as he opens up the wooden door once again. He carries you inside, looking around as he spots his friends. They all gap with their mouth wide open, pointing.

"All mine," Remus mutters to you, speeding away from his frantic friends. You keep your eyes closed, letting him take you to wherever he pleases.

[legolasghosty]

for the cliche prompts... "X holding Y while they cry" and "X cracking a joke to cheer Y up when in a bad situation" for Juke?

Hello!!!! Aight, I have no clue if this is what you had in mind, but here ya go! Enjoy!

When Julie saw the studio light flip on through her bedroom window just after 11 pm, she knew something was wrong. It had to be one of her boys, who else would it be at this time of night, but it really could be any of them. 

It might be Reggie, fleeing from the thunder of his parents’ fighting, or Bobby trying to get away from the silence of his empty house, or Alex needing space from the constant jabs and pointed glares. Or it might be Luke, freshly wounded from another fight with his mom over who knew what. It seemed like the only thing Luke and Emily did together these days was fight.

Either way, she had to check and see if whoever it was needed help or if they just needed space. So she grabbed a dark maroon LFHS hoodie and threw it on over her pajamas and monster slippers before quietly descending the stairs and leaving the house. She hurried through the dark to the studio, then paused to take a breath before pushing the door open a crack.

It took her eyes a second to adjust to the lights as she stepped inside, but when they did, she spotted a figure in a dark orange and black flannel huddled on the couch. Luke looked up at her with tear-stained eyes and Julie rushed to his side.

“Hey, what happened?” she asked softly, dropping to her knees beside his head.

“Fight,” Luke whispered, voice hoarse from crying. “Bad. I… I don’t think I can go back there, Jules.”

A sob forced its way out of Luke’s mouth and his eyes started watering again. Julie shifted from kneeling in front of him to climb onto the couch beside him. She opened her arms and he fell into her, hiding his face in her shoulder as he cried. Julie stroked his head and back, staying mostly quiet as he sobbed and her heart broke. She glanced down at the floor and noticed a duffle bag lying there, full of clothes and things. All of the boys kept a change or two of clothes in the Molina’s studio, just in case, but this was… Serious.

Luke’s relationship with his parents, especially his mom, had been rocky for years. It had only gotten worse when Luke told them he wasn’t planning on going to college in favor of pursuing music full time. Luke had come here to spend a night or two after particularly bad fights before, but this was the worst Julie had seen him by far.

“I just…” Luke choked out after a long five minutes or so of sobbing. “I said things… and she said things… She doesn’t want me to come home this time, Julie. I know it. She… I pushed too hard this time.”

“Hey, she’s your mom,” Julie tried to comfort him. “She might need some time to cool down, but I’m sure she doesn’t want you gone forever.”

“I don’t know, Jules,” Luke sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist in an attempt to ground himself. “She was… mad. Like really mad. And… I’m not giving in. I can’t just give up music like she wants me to, I can’t just go off and live like I’m some other guy. I just can’t. And she can’t accept that about me. She can’t accept me for who I am.”

Julie didn’t say anything, just pulled him close, offering what little comfort she could. Maybe tomorrow, once both Luke and Emily had been able to clear their heads a bit, things would seem clearer. But for tonight, all she could do was be here for Luke.

“I don’t think anyone could stamp music out of you, Luke,” she chuckled after a long minute, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m pretty sure if you’d died in ancient Egypt, they would have mummified you with sheet music instead of linen.” 

It was a pretty stupid joke, but Luke burst out laughing anyway. “Wow, I didn’t know that was an option,” Luke commented through his giggles. “Can I put that in my will? ‘Please wrap me up in sheet music when I die’?”

Julie tilted her head as if considering it, then pressed a kiss against his dark, messy hair. “I’ll make sure they follow the instructions laid out in your last will and testament,” she joked, placing a hand over her heart.

“Wow, you seem pretty confident you’re gonna outlive me, Molina,” Luke teased, pretending to be offended. Julie gave him a look and he caved. “Okay, fair enough, boss,” he said, rolling his eyes dramatically.

“That’s what I thought,” she smirked. Then, satisfied that he was feeling at least a bit better, she stood and pulled him up. “Come on, music mummy, let’s get the couch folded out so you don’t wreck your back again.”

Luke bit his lip and nodded, quietly helping her pull the folded mattress out of the couch and rearrange the cushions. Julie left him alone for a minute to get the sheet and was glad to find him still on his feet when she returned. Once they had the bed set up, Julie switched off the lights and turned to go, leaving Luke to rest. But before she got far, he caught her hand.

“Stay?” he asked when she looked back at him. “I know your dad isn’t a huge fan of us sharing a bed but…”

Julie glanced up at the house, considering that conversation with her dad. “He’ll get it,” she decided, turning back to Luke and sitting down on the edge of the bed. “You had a rough night.”

Luke smiled gratefully and dropped down beside her, laying down and pulling her close. “Goodnight, Julie,” he whispered into the dark. “And… thanks. For everything.”

“Goodnight, Luke,” she responded softly. “And anytime. You know that.”

Luke pressed a kiss against the top of her head, and they both drifted off to sleep.

[kosmosguk]

Lineage (M)

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader

Word Count: 6.7K

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

Warnings:  HEAVY yandere themes, mentions of gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, dubcon smut (reader is a virgin, fingering, unprotected sex), 18+, explicit language

A/N: Part 1 of Lineage! Took 3 months, a messy outline, and 2 drafts that I decided I hated halfway through writing and deleted before starting over to finish one part. Tags of people who replied to the preview will be added in a reblog. Thank you for everyone who has been waiting and has shown support for the preview of Lineage and my writing account overall! This is inspired by the multitude of Korean webnovels I’ve been reading during quarantine. If you like it, please leave a comment because I will cry out of joy and this took me a WHILE to get out of the drafts. Enjoy!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Special Chapter |

‘‘Duke,’’ the king’s teeth chattered in terror as he spoke, his voice low. “What have you come to visit me for?”

Yoongi closed his eyes briefly as if he was in thought. Normally, he’d be furious at the lack of efficiency, but something stopped him from simply slicing the fool’s head off with his sword. After all, there was a much more important matter at hand that he needed to deal with.

‘‘My king, you do,’’ Yoongi spoke slowly,’’ remember our deal, don’t you? I win the war against the bordering kingdom and give you a considerable sum, and you…’’

Yoongi directed a pointed look at the king, and the king flinched before hurrying over to his desk. He fumbled around with the papers on it, even knocking down a stack of sealed and stamped documents with his shaking elbows, before extracting a small silver-framed portrait.

Yoongi could see the tremor in the man’s hands as he handed him the portrait, but Yoongi only exhaled softly, almost as if he was relieved, as he took hold of the small painted picture.

Pretty long-lashed eyes that warmly sparkled despite paint being the only medium used, curved lips like budding flowers, and silky tresses that swooped past her delicate shoulders. The maiden etched into the canvas was not known as a beauty compared to her extravagantly dressed older sisters, but to Yoongi, she was worth much more than the other princesses combined. Yoongi gripped the portrait a little tighter, his hands slightly clammy.

‘‘You wanted the 8th princess, Princess [Y/N], as your bride,’’ the ruler before him sputtered. “As soon as you’re ready, I will have the engagement officially announced.”

Yoongi broke out of his reverie and tucked the portrait into the pocket of his coat before getting up from his seat. ‘’Thank you, my King. I will never forget the kindness you have bestowed upon the House of Min.’’

As Yoongi was about to open the door, the king called out once again.

‘‘Duke Min, if I may ask, why do you have so much interest in the 8th princess? I would have never thought she would suit your preferences. If you wanted, you could have the crown princess. Her beauty is known even in distant lands, and she is skilled—”

Yoongi coldly smiled at the pathetically shivering man, interrupting him sharply,’’ Do not interfere in personal matters, my King. Long live the Sun of the Kingdom.’’

The door clicked shut behind him, and the king sagged further into his extravagantly plush ruby couch. For the first time in his greedy life, the king truly felt sympathy for the young princess he had just sold to the notoriously named Duke of Hell.

You kneaded the dough of the bread firmly down onto the table, flour sticking to the crevices in your palms. The harvest had been plentiful that year, although many of the lands surrounding the kingdom had been ravaged by war, and the small palace, which was more like a shack than anything else compared to the palaces of your older siblings, you had in the royal territory was fortunate enough to receive a small portion of the year’s yield.

You had to be quick about kneading the dough. The weather in the kingdom had been warming up as the seasons changed, and if you dawdled, the dough would stick to the table and you’d spend the next half hour trying to scrape it off the wooden surface. You could feel the sun’s warmth on your back, and you hummed a pleasant melody as you kept working.

There were footsteps outside of your palace, a sharp knock on the door, and you paused. It was strange; no one really visited your palace other than the occasional maid, and their visits had dwindled down to barely showing up after they realized how insignificant your position was in the palace. But the maids never knocked; they always burst in, throwing down a basket of food before running off without so much a word.

Could the person outside be lost?

You hastily grabbed a piece of fabric, tying it around your neck to obstruct the view of your collarbone; this had become a habit you developed when you had been taken to the palace in order to hide the strange mark on your clavicle. You hastily pushed open the door, your fingers still crusted with flour-covered dough. The person outside was dressed in the garbs of a messenger, but you noticed that he looked and acted much too elegant to be in the role of a servant; perhaps he had been more blessed with good looks and manners but had no fortune in status, you mused to yourself. 

You must have looked more like a maid than a princess because the messenger in front of the door took one look at you and asked,’’ Could you bring me the 8th princess? I carry a message from the palace.”

You smiled pleasantly. “Sir, you’re speaking to her. Are you lost, perhaps? The crown princess’s palace is down the road, and if you take a left, you’ll be right there.’’

The messenger blinked in surprise, his mouth falling open slightly, and he practically trembled as he realized his mistake. “No, this is a message for you! I’m so sorry, Your Highness; please punish this lowly servant for making such a—!”

You shook your head good-naturedly; you were no tyrant after all, having been born more like your mother, a noble of lower class who, albeit poor, was much more noble than those of higher ranking, than your father, the king. That was a fact that you took pride in.

“What message do you come to bring me? No one quite visits this palace,’’ you questioned.

“Your Highness, the 8th Princess of this Kingdom, I pass a message from the Duke of the House of Min to you. Your marriage has been agreed upon by His Majesty, King [L/N]. The Duke requests that you move into his estate as soon as you can so the preparations for marriage can be efficiently arranged and completed,’’ the messenger spoke.

Your smile stiffened, the edges of your lips curved awkwardly as you took in the message with wide eyes. “My marriage?’’ you managed to keep the tremble away from your voice as you asked the question.

“The Duke himself has personally requested of the king that he be bestowed your hand in marriage, Your Highness. He expects you to be done packing anything you find essential from your home by the morning of tomorrow. The wedding will be held the day after you move into his home.’’

You nearly sputtered in shock at the words of the messenger drifted in one ear and out the other, barely registering properly in your incredulous mind. “The wedding?! Isn’t that too soon? The engagement period usually lasts for at least a few months!’’

The messenger tried to smile, as if comforting the shock-stricken you, and he slowly spoke, hesitating,’’ The duke values efficiency above all else. Might I be so bold to say something? Princess...I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors about the Duke. May they be either bad or good, please keep in mind one thing: you’ll be safe in his estate. He will protect you well. Good day, Your Highness. I wish you good fortune in your marriage to the Duke.’’

The messenger turned and was about to walk away when you called out,” Can I at least know your name?’’

The messenger turned back around, his eyes wide with surprise. Those of the nobility class never asked a lowly servant their name; names were symbols of rank in the upper classes, and thus the nobility did not care much about names when those names marked the identity of the lower classes. You were different from the other nobles. You looked and spoke just like her; no wonder the Duke was so fond of you.

“My name, Your Highness?’’ his voice hesitated as he spoke, his eyes wide in surprise,’’ Namjoon.’’

“Namjoon,’’ you breathed out, your lips that had been strained in an unnatural, forced smile spread into a genuine smile,’’ Thank you.’’

The nobility never thanked a servant, nor did they smile at them with such warmth. To a servant, a lack of punishment was enough.

Namjoon nodded and left your palace. When he was free from view of you and anyone else lurking around your palace, the ground underneath his feet turned an inky black, swirling like an abyss that was ready to swallow him up. Namjoon took one final glance at your palace, his previously dark eyes glowing an ominous red, and his lips that had been shyly smiling at you twisted into a smirk, flashing off two indents in his cheeks. He could see why the Duke, a man so devoid of warmth and humanity that he was a clear reflection of the demonic blood running in his veins, took such interest in you; you were interesting.  Something about you drew him in; was it the kindness you showed, or was it just how hungry your smell made him feel? Whatever it was, Namjoon was sure of one thing: the Prophecy was to be fulfilled. Yoongi would make sure of it, after all.

Namjoon vanished from sight, swallowed up in the black that had dyed the soil in dark wisps of air, and the only trace of him left was a sharp acrid scent of smoke.

You closed the door, your hands trembling as you went back to kneading the bread dough. The warmth of the afternoon sun seemed like a chill on your back now as you prodded and shaped the dough into loaves. Since you were to leave the next morning, it seemed like a waste to bake bread; it wasn’t like you were to eat all of them by the time the dawn came. You would go into the city later after they finished baking and give them out; after your marriage to the duke, you were certain that you would receive no more chances to dress up in the garments of a maid and sneak out into the city.

It was unfortunate, was it not? To go from being the daughter of a lowly noble, one who had unfortunately caught the attention of a tyrannical king and ran away from him to the woods only to be caught and killed, to the forgotten but trapped 8th princess to something to be sold off for the selfish gain of another. You were like a lamb going to the slaughter, desperate to live but powerless.

The Duke was notorious for many things, the kinds of things that were gossiped by maids passing by your palace and left goosebumps prickled on your skin. He was a man who killed as easily as he found it to breathe, a man whose very name was used by the children as a way to scare each other. You were certain that you would be no exception to his murderous rage. 

After you returned from the city, barely being able to take in the last wisps of life outside of the cage you had been forced in, and packed your remaining items into a small bag, you fell into an uneasy sleep. In your dream, you saw shadowy figures. They screamed and yelled, and you could only stand there as cold metal pierced your body through the collarbone. It hurt so much; it felt like agony ripping away at your skin, and you could feel your own blood rush down your weakening frame. You woke up before the day came to life, your body wracked in a cold sweat that left your eyes wide open in the pitch black of the night.

The carriage of the House of Duke came right as the light of dawn broke upon the horizon, sending splatters of rosy pink and gold light onto the sky’s canvas. You were drowned in the dappling shades of the new day as you handed the bag to the driver, who remained silent after a formal greeting. You took one final look at the building you had spent half of your life in, watching with unblinking eyes as the home that you had spent many lonely days in disappeared from view.

How were you supposed to feel? There was no jittery high of happiness that came from being married, something that was common throughout the romantic novels you had bought from the city; there was only a foreboding sense of doom. Would the Duke kill you once you stepped off the carriage, or would he enjoy the game of hunting and wait?

Although the House of Min had an estate in the capital of the Kingdom near the palace, the Duke preferred living a secluded life away from the tiring politics of the capital. You understood him on that. The ride was not long to the territory, however; the rich could afford paying to use the small portal stones to travel, which were remnants from the times that there had been magic and gods in the world. What would have been a trip lasting two weeks was narrowed down to a trip of 9 hours.

You arrived at the territory in the early afternoon, your body sore from having remained seating for such an extended period of time; you only had two breaks throughout the trip, one to empty your bladder and another to eat a small lunch at an inn. As you stepped from the carriage down to the ground in front of the manor, your mouth dropped in shock at the size of the Duke’s land. The wealth of the Duke was vast but to see it in person was astonishing. You recalled the trip through his territory; as the magical portal had been on the cusp of his territory and the outer lands, the trip to his estate from that magical portal had taken a solid 2 hours of your trip.

The land for just his estate was large; you could not see the edge of the estate’s land that you had previously entered in earlier. His main manor building loomed above you like a fortress, spiraling black buildings and shadowy crevices, and you felt a wave of anxiety rise in your throat. The manor of the Duke was more like a fortress with its sturdy, impenetrable walls and dark atmosphere. A chill ran down your spine, prickling goosebumps on your otherwise smooth skin, as your eyes scanned the buildings on the estate. There was only one word that could properly describe them: ominous.

Even the atmosphere of the maids lined up in front of you in greeting had you unconsciously tensing, your jaw clenched slightly. You could see their eyes; they were haunting in the way they were so devoid of emotion. You were familiar with how maids were like; they always had some form of emotion in their eyes: either a sickly sweetness as they itched for favor or a mocking expression that didn’t conceal their spite. You fought back a shiver when you heard them open their mouths, their voices in perfect unison as they spoke.

“Welcome, Your Highness, to the Estate of the House of Min. We look forward to serving you from now and into the future.’’  

Three of the maids stepped forward, their steps aligned perfectly and their bows matching. They dipped their heads, and one of them spoke. She looked middle-aged, older than the other maids, but the look on her face matched theirs.

“We will be the main maids serving you. I am the head maid of the manor. As the future Duchess of the House of Min, everyone at the manor is at your service. The Duke will—.’’

She paused; you heard a crunching of something underfoot in the silence of the courtyard. Was it stone? The smile that you had forced on your face froze, uncomfortably stiff.

“Welcome, my fiancé,’’ you heard a voice call out. The voice unnerved you more than the expressionless looks on the maids had; it sounded cordial and low, pleasant to the ears even. If your ears had been untrained to the sounds of the nobility, you might even have mistaken it for affection, but you knew that there was no true emotion in the voice, or at least that’s what you assumed. No warm voice could make you feel so terrified after all. You, however, didn’t notice the brief look of shock in the staff in front of you; never, in the whole time they had been serving the Duke, had he sounded so gentle.

You looked toward the sound, your fear cleanly masked by your frozen smile; after being mocked by the queen, concubines, and their children as a child with lowly blood, you were good at training your expressions. The more you squirmed, the sicker the nobles’ expressions got, which is why you spent your later years at the palace hiding away in your palace, hoping that you would continue to be forgotten. The Duke was no exception to this; if you crumbled before him, he was sure to crush you under his polished shoe. You couldn’t die yet. You had not much to live for, that you admit, but the core essence of humanity was its desire to survive. To live.

The Duke stood before you. His demeanor was elegant, but you could sense an imposing aura radiating from him. He was good-looking, though; from the rumors you had heard from passing maids, you envisioned a hideous monster with sharp teeth and claws for hands who would rip out your throat for breathing too loudly. He looked like a statue delicately carved by an artist with his smooth, white skin, like alabaster and marble, and sharp, handsome features. His nose slanted gorgeously, his jawline was strong, and his lips were softly curved.

But the most distinct feature of his were his eyes. They were shaped elegantly, curving in a refined shape, but it was the color that left your feet glued to the ground. You had heard the rumors but seeing it in person was another ordeal. His eyes were a vibrant shade of crimson, the color of freshly spilled blood, and there was an eerie depth to them. They were, you recalled, the eyes of the devil. A chilling thought came to your mind as you stared into his eyes. They were the same color as the mark on your neck. You unconsciously tightened your fingertips around the scarf you had carefully looped around your neck.

“What has your mind so distracted?’’ the Duke smiled, but although you should have felt calmed by the sight, his smile unnerved you for some reason,’’ Everything has been properly arranged for our wedding tomorrow, if that is what you are scared of. If you desire, you may look over the plans and arrange it however you like.’’

The Duke had walked closer to you when you hadn’t been paying attention, and you flinched when he reached out towards you, his fingertips brushing the side of your cheek affectionately. Your heartbeat raced in your chest; however, instead of the giddy heart thrumming that was depicted in romantic novels, your heartbeat racing was purely because of anxiety. The presence of the Duke made you feel like a small prey in front of the menacing gaze of an apex predator. Would he snap your head off? Twist your delicate neck in his hands?

He took his touch away from your cheek as your thoughts raced, his fingers snagging into your scarf accidentally. The scarf fell down to the ground, and his eyes widened in glee slightly. Your hand flew to your clavicle, covering the mark there. You didn’t know why, but something in your gut told you to not let him near the mark. His eyes glowed for a split second, the color of a polished ruby glistening in light, before dimming back to their normal color; you blinked rapidly, wondering if you had imagined the change.

“My deepest apologizes, Your Highness. You must be exhausted from your trip. We don’t want you too tired for our wedding. Your maids will take you to the room you will be staying in tonight,’’ the Duke smiled politely once again, hesitantly stepping back, his composure poised,’’ I am looking forward to our union. Rest up. I have a meeting later, so unfortunately, we won’t be sharing a meal tonight.’’

He turned to leave, his eyes lingering on your collarbone, and you stayed glued to the ground, your hand still covering your mark. The head maid reached out with another scarf in her hands, and you took it, your fingers trembling slightly, before wrapping it around your neck. You knotted it two more times than usual this time, your eyes trained on the Duke’s retreating back.

You did not notice it at the time, your mind too busy wandering in your thoughts, but the previously emotionless expressions on the maids’ faces flickered with fear before quickly shifting back. As you turned your gaze back towards them, you mused to yourself once more. How odd was it that their expressions had not changed even once?

The room you were staying in was lovely; of course, that was to be expected from one of the top noble families in the kingdom, if not the whole land. Billowy drapes hung from vast windows, detailed gold embroidery sparkling in the brightening sunlight, and there were expensive pieces of furniture adorning the large room. The price of one of the candlesticks would be enough to cover the expenses of a peasant family for a year.

You had an unrestful sleep; nightmares plagued your dreams once again. They were more vivid this time, and you could still feel the agony of cold metal piercing through your soft flesh. The mark on your collarbone seemed to throb and burn against your skin, and you dragged your nails against it, trying to quell the itching sting. You somehow fell asleep once more, and when you woke up, the dreams had vanished from your mind, and the only remnants of your nightmares was a clammy coldness that lingered on your body and red lines on your mark from your nails.

You heard a knock on the door.

“Your Highness, may we come in? We will be preparing you for the wedding,’’ you recognized the voice of the head maid.

You inhaled a deep breath, trying to recover from your body’s cold sweat and slow the frantic pounding of your heart before calling out calmly,’’ Come in.’’

The maids came in, walking in calmly with their hands full of items.

The head maid was the one who had spoken outside, and as she walked near you, you held out a wary hand.

“If you are to serve me, I must know your name,’’ you spoke, trying to put on the dignified airs that was similar to the queen, or your stepmother, though you refused to refer to her with that title.

“My name, Your Highness?’’ the head maid looked taken aback, her eyes on the floor,’’ I’m sorry, but the names of servants are an insignificant thing to be known in this household. I only go by my position, here, as head maid. If you wish to know my name to have me punished, please just ask for the head maid to be punished.’’

You could tell that this was some unspoken rule and forced down the part of you that wished to rebel and find her name. If you were to pressure her over something so mild, unpleasant rumors would spring forth. 

You followed their directions silently as they prepared you, and you ate small bites of the meal they had laid out when you had completed your morning routine. They then changed you into your wedding garment, tying up the corset around your torso so tightly that you could barely breathe when they were done. You could feel their gazes lingering on the mark you had on your collarbone; you were used to the looks, the mockery and the disdain, but their gazes were different. Was it curiosity? Hell, admiration? Or perhaps, fear?

Hours stretched and passed as they worked on your hair and makeup. Your scalp and skin were prodded at by them as they worked to prepare you. When they were finally done, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror and was left breathless at your reflection.

Your hair had been coiled up in an elaborate up-do and decorated with sparkling hair pieces that weighed down your head. The dress was made by one of the capital’s top designers and fit you perfectly, as if the measurements of your body were known by the Duke’s Household down to a tee; it showed off your neck and the mark on your neck, and when you had asked to find something to cover the mark up, the maids shook their heads.

“The Duke wishes for this style of dress; unfortunately, nothing can be used to cover up your neck properly, and the dress can not be changed,’’ the head maid told you.

The dress, other than expose society’s stigma imprinted upon your flesh, was gorgeous. It was a pure white, sparkling with small pieces of carefully cut diamond, and tastefully accentuated by delicately beaded pearls. It wrapped around your torso and flared out into wide, layered skirts, a style that was extremely trendy in the capital. You looked stunning in the dress.

The maids had done extremely well on your makeup too; your skin glowed and was soft like a baby, and your lips were reddened to the color of cherries. Your cheeks were reddened as well, a blush delicately touching your cheeks. You looked ethereal, like a mystical being descending upon earth, though you embarrassingly believed that it was rather conceited of you to think that.

The head butler—you vaguely remembered him from the staff yesterday, although he had not spoken a word to you after the initial greeting—guided you to a carriage silently after politely greeting you, which led down to the church building in which you were to be married in.

Your fingers twisted in your fine white skirts as the rush of anxiety churned in your gut; you were grateful that your breakfast had been light, or else you would have hurled it all over the floor of the carriage.

You somehow managed to keep it together, even when you stepped down from the carriage. You even managed to keep your composure together as you walked towards the Duke, standing in front of the church, with the Kingdom’s Priest standing behind him. The church was filled to the brim with people, mostly nobles who vied for some connection with the Duke. You could even see the King in the front, watching you with eyes that told you not to mess your marriage up.

You even managed to keep it together underneath the burning sting of the Duke’s eyes as the Priest recited aloud the vows of marriage. You gazed back into the Duke’s eyes, watching the reflection of the sunset’s lights glow in their cold depths as the priest concluded the ceremony.

“May this couple’s union, placed together by the holy goddess of creation that had formed the earth, be a blessing upon the Kingdom.’’

You felt the mark on your collarbone throb slightly, a dull ache, but, in that moment, you had believed it to be a part of the bone-aching exhaustion that had settled deep into your body’s marrow.

The first duty of marriage was the consummation of it. You were aware of what went on, having ventured off into the city and gotten your hands onto romance novels that had their fair share of obscene scenes, but to be experiencing it firsthand, that was something that terrified you. The pain of having your virginity taken had been described in detail in the novels, and you could feel a pit of nerves form as the maids led you to get prepared for your first night as a married couple.

The maids bathed you, as the head maid crooned to you low in your ear the duty you were to fulfill. They rubbed fragrant rose oils into your skin, as the head maid repeated over and over the instructions and her condolences for the night, and dressed you in a nightgown—it was a soft, clear pink that scandalously showed off your figure—that was more like an undergarment than anything.

Then, the maids led you to the room you were to share with your husband. As the head maid was about to open the door, she spoke one last time,’’ Duchess, I have done my best to inform you of your first night. May the fortune of the goddess of creation bless you upon your first night as the Duke’s wife.’’

The room was dark when you stepped in, and it would have been pitch black had it not been for the wispy pale rays of moonlight glowing through the large glass windows. This room, through your adjusting vision, was certainly much more beautiful and elegant than the room you had used for your temporary one-night stay. You saw the Duke standing in front of one of the windows, his eyes on you, unnervingly unblinking. Although his gaze remained eerie, you could not deny the ethereal beauty that radiated off of him as he watched you with ruby eyes.

As you were admiring his looks, you noticed that he had taken steps forward before pausing before you. His eyes looked at yours before roaming your body, and you noticed that there was an almost carnal hunger glowing in his crimson-red eyes. He looked starving, and you realized, unconsciously wrapping your arms around your body, that you were the meal he was to satiate his hunger with.

You could not help but flinch when the Duke pulled you forward into his arms and kissed you, his lips harsh against your own as he stole your breath from your lungs. His teeth snagged into your bottom lip, digging into it. There was nothing gentle in the kiss; nothing sweet and romantically sentimental like what had been described in romance novels.

His hands, the palms roughened from his days on the battlefield, caressed your body, slipping underneath your night gown. You gasped breathlessly against his mouth at the cool touch on your warm body, a sound that was swallowed up by his lips as his tongue delved into your mouth, and you clung onto the thin fabric of his night clothes.

“D-duke,’’ you managed to breath out shakily when he finally broke away from this kiss. You were about to say something more, but the sight of your lips, bruised and swollen from the Duke’s harsh kiss caused his eyes to darken in lust.

“When you are with just me, call me Yoongi,’’ he rasped, and the sound of his voice near your ear caused pleasurable shivers to travel down your spine. You felt something wet between your legs, and your cheeks flushed in shyness, your eyes widening in embarrassment. That look of pure innocence seemed to cause something in the infamously cool-headed Duke to snap. Yoongi’s actions were more hurried as he practically tore the dainty dress from your body, and the breath in your chest was knocked out as you were thrown onto the large bed.

His touch felt like it was burning against your body as it touched you in intimate ways. You tried to block his touch anxiously, but he simply brushed off your hands as if you had no strength; against his overpowering strength, you were utterly weak. You closed your eyes anxiously when you felt him suck bruises into your neck and then on your breasts, leaving bite marks blooming on your quivering skin like roses on silk, but you felt a sharp ache in your jaw as he grabbed your chin harshly and lifted your head to face him.

“Look at me. I want you to witness your first night with me, my beloved wife.’’

His voice was sharp despite the pained rasp coating its tone, radiating with an authority so powerful that you found yourself snapping open your eyes to look at him in mute shock. In the dim lighting of the night, with only the ghosts of the moon to leave a sheen of waning light on his handsome face, the Duke—no, Yoongi—looked lethal.

Your mouth fell open in a wide o-shape when his touch brushed down your soft breasts to your stomach and then finally to the most intimate spot on your body. His index finger swirled around your bud, sparking little shocks down your spine before venturing lower. His first finger stretched your walls, going deep into the sacred garden that had been guarded since you had been born, and you could only pant helplessly. There was a buzz in your head, something heady that you couldn’t quite put your finger on, as Yoongi touched places deep within you.

He added another finger and the another, and your mind spun as your walls stretched and clung onto his fingers. You clutched onto his clothes tighter, holding your breath, as he explored your walls. He dragged his fingers out, his movements slow and gentle, before he slammed them viciously into you; you choked on a sound that was a mix between a gasp and a moan. He repeated the movements until you were writhing under his touch before pulling his fingers out of you. His fingers were drenched in a honey-like substance, and you, with your ears burning, watched as he sucked on his fingers.

“My beloved wife, my goddess,’’ Yoongi’s voice sounded ragged, as if he was about to fall apart, and his fingers, sticky with dried saliva and your essence, curled up under his garments and peeled them off,’’ I can’t wait any longer.’’

“W-wait,’’ you stuttered out pathetically as he pushed something firm but soft and undeniably hot against your garden. Yoongi paid no heed to your word as he pushed into your walls mercilessly without so much a pause, and your heart raced as you realized what was invading your innocence. There was a throbbing agony as he got deeper and deeper, a feeling that was much more painful than his fingers had been. You clung onto his shoulders when he finally stopped moving in, tears building up in your eyes and dripping down your cheeks. When the head maid and your romance novels had talked about the pain, they had described the pain as fleeting, a sharp pinch that faded away quickly. This was different; you could feel your lower regions burning in agony as they stretched and trembled around Yoongi’s length.

At the sight of your tears, the look on Yoongi’s face was practically feral. Without waiting for you to get accustomed to the feeling of your purity being torn apart, Yoongi pulled out and slammed back in, his hips setting a tormenting pace that made you squeal in pain.

“Please pull out; oh my God,’’ you gasped out, your nails digging into his skin,’’ It hurts, it hurts so bad.’’  

Yoongi let out a grunt in response, his breath choppy as he forced his voice from his throat. “The pain will go away soon. If we don’t fulfill our first duty of marriage, then the marriage will be considered void by law. Do you want that? The next man the King marries you to…’’

Yoongi’s eyes turned deadly, as if the thought of another man even touching you set him on a murderous outrage, and you trembled at the idea. The next man would undeniably be a portly, greasy lower noble, who would take you as his concubine as your purity had already been taken by the Duke. Your future children would be spat on by those around them, an experience that you had gone through but would never wish on your children.

Yoongi spoke again, a question this time. “Will you endure the temporary pain, or will you refuse and endure a much more lasting pain as someone who lost her purity but did not fulfill her first duty?’’

You could feel him inside you, pulsing and twitching, and you swallowed your nerves. Although Yoongi had worded it as a choice, you knew it was not. It was anything but. You already knew the decision you had to take before he finished asking.

“Please,’’ you begged, softening your voice in order to incite some pity from this brute of a man,’’ Be more gentle?’’

His lips twisted into a carnivorous smile, something that caught you off guard and left you in a short daze, and his only answer was him pulling out of you before pushing back in. The pain was rough at first, but you could tell that the Duke had taken into consideration your plea, at least he did so at first. When the first pricks of pleasure sparked in your gut, your head slammed back and you moaned before panting out a shameless,’’ Duke, Yoongi, please, faster.’’

You looked ravishing in this state; marks littered on your soft skin, and your face in an arousing expression with your swollen lips parted open in shaky breaths and your eyes glazed in desire. You looked like the embodiment of sin itself against the pure white sheets of the bed. The constraints that Yoongi had placed on himself snapped, his hips slamming against you hard, an erotic sound of the clapping of skin echoing in the night, that left your skin feeling heated and flushed. You only mewled in response as he began to pound into your body. He was animalistic, the cold airs he had been encased in dropped as a rosy flush tinted his pale marble face. You felt like you were being intoxicated by the sensations of pleasure and sin.

He pushed in even deeper than before, and you felt an uncomfortable pain as his length pushed against your cervix. Your air left your lungs at the feeling, and your nails dug even further into the Duke’s broad shoulders, leaving drops of blood in its wake. The Duke didn’t even flinch at the pain, burying his head into your shoulder to let out an almost growl-like noise. You were so fucking tight; it was like you were squeezing around him, refusing to let him go.

You felt sensitive, your nerves heightened as the whirl of pleasure building in your gut climbed. Your eyes remained wide open, your dizzy mind remembering the Duke’s earlier command, and your back arched slightly as a wave of pleasure crashed into you. Your vision went blurry as you crashed into your first climax; you were coming, tightening around him so hard that your mind went completely blank.

You could feel Yoongi’s teeth sink into your collarbone, a flash of white digging into your red mark, and the pain coupled with the pleasure cascading onto your limp body caused you to let out a lewd choked moan. Yoongi slammed into you, his pace steady and stable as his breath grew more erratic, before he pushed deep into you, a groan pulling out deep from his chest. You felt something hot spill into the depths of your body, and your fingers and toes twitched at the feeling.

You were exhausted as he pulled out of you. He was still painfully hard, but you were so tired, and the lull of sleep was so tempting. Your vision blurred, and your eyes drooped shut as you fell into an unconscious state, ignoring the pulsing sting of your collarbone. The last thing you saw before you were swept up in a rush of sleep was a flash of red eyes, the look of them so vivid against the darkness of the deep night, and Yoongi licking off droplets of your blood off of his lips, his lips curved up in a menacing smile.

“Goodnight, my beloved wife,’’ Yoongi spoke out into the silence, his fingers reaching out to entwine themselves into strands of your hair,’’ May the dreams that reach you be a blessing.’’

He brought up a stand of your hair to his lips, his lips touching it tenderly.

“And may our marriage bring us both fortune beyond what humanity can perceive, my Goddess.’’

A/N: if you want to be tagged in the next part, please reply with a 👑! And if you liked the story, please leave a comment or a review! Thank you so much for being here for my writing journey :) I’ll do my best to keep improving.

Part 2

[tobiosmilktea]

amor vincit omnia — akaashi keiji

     ↪︎ O2. I CHOOSE YOU

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: i absolutely hated rewriting this chapter after it glitched out the first time 😔

since the beginning of your first year of university, you and the rest of your lovely friends had been eating in the library, specifically the large round table secluded and at the very corner for every meal without fail, and nobody really cared to stop you guys for two reasons. For one, no one really goes into that corner of the library that only collected dust, and two, you guys were there so often that you all befriended all the librarians to the point they stopped coming by to tell you guys to leave and eat in the canteen instead.

you were placed between daichi and kiyoko, counting the seconds by as they worked diligently in silence, munching on their lunch in the process. daichi tapped on the keys on his laptop rather quickly, the impact of each click being unnecessarily loud while kiyoko was cross-referencing documents and highlighting lines of never ending texts in a nice muted green color. tsukishima, on the other hand, was too preoccupied reading his book. eyes completely glued to the novel resting in his hands as he readjusted his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose. sugawara was out and about somewhere in the sea of towering bookshelves to find a book to read, mentioning something along the lines of—and you quote, ‘something to quench his thirst for entertainment.’ 

it was honestly just his fancy way of saying that he was bored out of his goddamn mind. perhaps you were the same, eyes wandering your surroundings for something, just something to capture your attention for a few moments. it wasn’t at all difficult, actually, considering how pretty your university was.

higashi university had always been your dream college. not just by its blatant aestheticism, but the academia as well. with tanaka and nishinoya being your main friend group during your high school days, it feels rather refreshing being surrounded by other incredibly smart individuals than constant brain rot.

(no offense to tanaka and nishinoya, you loved them to pieces)

and as your mind began to wander, so did your gaze. from admiring the library’s interior to looking out the window, your lips slightly curved down into a frown.

it was only noon and the clouds were already darkening the sun’s piercing rays that usually shone through the large domed windows of the library. it was going to rain soon and for a couple hours as well.

it’s quite peculiar to think about now after you received that damned chain letter. earlier this morning, while shoving on your wool sweater and trousers, that even the weather app on your phone didn’t show any signs of inclement weather until an hour after you texted your group chat in an awkward panic.

you didn’t really pine yourself to be so superstitious. if anything, you were the complete opposite, and yet, here you were worrying over the sound of rumbling thunder in the distance.

tsukishima lifted his gaze from the words printed on his novel as he pushed his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. he flickered a look at you, a smirk appearing on his visage the moment he noticed the way you stared at a single drop of rain on the window, flowing down rather slowly.

that stupid letter of yours was still in your hand as well. he watched you fiddle with the corners, careful not to mess with the mahogany red wax stamp that sealed the envelope.

“have you thought about which poor, unfortunate soul you’re going to give it to?” he asked, smirk still annoyingly evident. this was the third time he asked you this question in a span of three hours.

you flicked your eyes towards him coolly before it fell onto the letter in your hands. "ask that question again and i’ll be sure to send it your way, tsukishima.”

“i’d like to see you try, honestly.” he muses, “your best bet is probably slipping it into one of your professor’s inboxes. maybe professor oshiro, by chance?”

“please,” you snort, “she only gave me one failing grade that i eventually made up in the end.”

“just give it to a random stranger,” daichi cuts in, eyes still glued to his laptop as he typed his fingers away. dark circles dusting his eyes like a dark shadow. law school was certainly doing its works on the likes of poor, poor sawamura daichi.

he shrugs, evidentially fatigued when he meets your eye.

“that way your grades won’t have to potentially deal with the consequences if your professor finds out.”

you nod, humming in response. that would be terrible.

sugawara then emerges from the maze of bookshelves, holding up a book towards you with a smile on his face. “found one,” he beams, tossing it atop the messy table.

you reach for the book as sugawara pulls out his chair whilst he mutters something to his daichi about his whereabouts.

“wuthering heights?” you say the title aloud and capture kiyoko’s attention along with it.

“yeah. have you guys read it?” the silver-haired boy asks. he takes your opinions quite seriously knowing how much of an avid reader you and kiyoko were. whenever he needed book recommendations or opinions, he would always go to you two.

you nod, “i quite liked it.”

“some parts tend to be slow, though.” adds in kiyoko, taking the novel from your hands and flipping through the pages briefly before slipping back over towards sugawara. “it should keep you occupied for a few days.”

you chuckle slightly, giving her a look. “you forget how slow suga is at reading. the few days it takes us to finish a book is a good month for him.”

offense coated sugawara’s expression as he lets out a scoff in retaliation. “don’t you have a chain letter to give to someone?”

“she’s stalling,” tsukishima teases.

“am not!”

“then want to go give it to a random stranger then?”

your brows draw together, “right now?”

tsukishima nods as he stuffs his belongings back into his bag. “i’ll come with you for shits and giggles.”

a sigh escapes you, rolling your eyes as you take a look at the letter one last time and wanting to laugh at yourself for doing all this. a full chain letter from front to back, with the first quarter of it is you viciously apologizing that you had to do this in neat cursive handwriting, all written in fifteen minutes.

you gave in.

“fine,” you huff as you grab your own bag as well.

“good luck,” kiyoko muses up at you as you squeeze past her.

tsukishima waits for you until you’re by his side, strides shorter than usual just to match your pace as you two navigate through the labyrinthine arrays of bookshelves. the letter was in your hand, all small and discrete for a quick and easy delivery to an unsuspecting victim. your palm perspired slightly as you kept your eyes open, scanning for an easy person as you were aware of the possible repercussions.

you could easily get in trouble for doing something this childish, but you were in too deep already.

“hurry up and find someone, we’re almost at the entrance already.” tsukishima hisses in a harsh whisper.

“i’m working on it!” you hiss back.

“working on what?” a familiar voice asks then, capturing both you and tsukishima’s attention, whipping your heads towards the owner.

kuroo combed his freehand through his hair while he had two textbooks tucked under his other arm. he gave you a smile.

you never really got close with kuroo despite meeting him at nationals a few years back. despite only talking a few times due to him being good friends with tsukishima, you knew he was nice, incredibly smart in the sciences, and yet oddly awkward for someone as good looking as he.

not him, you thought to yourself, too nice.

“a little project,” the blond immediately answers just like that. “our majors tend to overlap sometimes, so we decided to partner up.”

“nice, i’m here with my friends to study as well.” kuroo states, causing your eyes to scan behind them for any evidence of their rambunctious selves.

like kuroo, you weren’t close with any of them either. if anything, they were just mere acquaintances on the precipice of becoming strangers. regardless, they all seemed quite nice too from your lack of interaction with them.

tsukishima says something in response then, igniting a short little catch-up conversation with an old high school friend as you lay distracted. your eyes flicked down to a study table in front of you, one of the chairs just a foot shy from you had a satchel hanging off of its side. the brown leather flap was wide open with its owner nowhere in sight as you gave your surroundings a once over.

carefully, you made your way over the table, pretending as if you were taking something out of your bag as kuroo was being distracted by the blond. neither of them were looking at you fortunately. as you placed your bag back over your shoulder, you slipped the letter right into the open satchel right at the same time–the envelope falling and disappearing into the depths of the bag.

“i’ve got to get to my next lecture,” you say to the two men, giving tsukishima a sly wink that it was a job well done. “i’ll see you guys around.”

checkmate.

fun facts! —

after kiyoko graduated and moved to tokyo, (y/n) and kiyoko kept in touch by sending each other cute handwritten letters

no one really is aware of that area in the back of the library since no one goes in that section often (this is uhh,, an important detail for later 😳)

taglist: (comment or send an ask to be added!)

@channiechanchan @elianetsantana @suhkusa @agaashesmilktea @dwcljh @duhsies @thevillagehiddenintheinternet @kitsunetea @morpheus-rex @noeminemi @ntimacy @kurokenchan @kittyddandnyla @amboisez @komouri @stargirlara @itsmeaudrieee @immxnty @spicyshinsou @bombardia @yammerss @crescenttooru @tadashi-simp @sunanyaa @saikishairclip @marvel-ing-at-it-all @seijqhigh @normalisthenewnorm @allielozoya @peteunderoos @inflxxtions @peg-legz4 @kawafika @apollochjld @bap-kingdom @yongboxerrr @kenssister @galacticyoongs

[tsukishumai]

pairing: miya atsumu x f!reader

tags: fluff, strangers to lovers

word count: 2.2k

Summary: You think of all the different versions you get of Atsumu throughout the day

Nights with Atsumu were unpredictable. Your heart always skipped a beat whenever you received one of his “are you free tonight?” texts, excitement never failing to course through your veins.

Miya Atsumu was an adventure.

He had been that way from the very first night you met him, crashing into him at a music festival your friends had dragged you to.

You had been lost for the past hour - separated from your group when you had mistakenly taken the wrong turn while trying to look for the restrooms. You’ve tried calling them time and time again, but the sheer amount of people at the event must have been doing something to the phone lines. None of your calls or texts were going through.

You mumbled a hurried apology, and you could practically feel the way he raked his gaze over your appearance. Though, there was nothing presentable about your current state; your hair (previously curled and styled carefully) was pulled up into a messy bun, dirt from the festival grounds stained your shoes and pants, and the expression on your face was nothing short of stressed.

“You lost, hun?” He had asked. While you would usually cringe at the pet name coming from a strangers mouth, the slight drawl of his accent made it sound sweet, and you couldn’t help but nod.

“It’s my first time coming to this festival - I have no idea where anything is.”

He nodded in understanding. “It can get pretty confusing if ya don’t know what you’re looking for,” he sighed out, reaching a hand out for you to take, “Come on, I’ll help you find em.”

Even then, having known the man for merely two minutes, you were never hesitant in taking his hand.

He quickly told his own group of the current situation, setting up a meet up spot for the end of the night in case Atsumu wasn’t able to find his way back to them in time.

(That was smart. You guys should have done that.)

You wondered why the blonde boy bothered to take the time out of his night to help you. Hadn’t he spent his own money to be here with his friends?

When you had asked him this question, he simply shrugged. “It wouldn’t be right of me to leave a beautiful girl all alone and lost in this huge festival now, would it?”

You didn’t find your friends for the rest of the night. You had instead spent it with Atsumu, jumping from stage to stage, claiming “maybe we’ll find them there?” but really, his favorite artist was up and he didn’t really want to miss it.

It shocked you how natural it felt to be with him; easy conversation flowed naturally, and the initial mission of his company was quickly forgotten, replaced instead with the dizzying thrill of his fingers wrapped around your wrist to make sure he didn’t lose you in the crowd.

“This is my favorite band,” he yelled into your ear, twirling you in circles as you danced along to the beat pummeling out of the speakers.

“I can see why!” You smiled at him, and the freedom you were feeling in that moment, dancing with a stranger that was quickly becoming a friend, was a better high than any drug.

Atsumu couldn’t dance at all - this was something you had pointed out during the second set you had watched together - but there was something in the way he just stuck his tongue out at you and continued to flail his limbs in some semblance of a rhythm with such confidence that you couldn’t help but find charming.

“Y/N!”

The frantic crying of your name made you whip your head around, and you see your best friend running over to you.

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

You let your best friend scold you for going missing for four hours, pushing down the feeling of embarrassment as Atsumu snickered at you.

“Thanks for keeping me company,” you said, turning to him one last time before finally joining your original pack.

“Anytime,” he smiled, then pulled his phone out of his pocket before handing it to you, “Mind returning the favor some day?”

The grin on your face was brighter than any of the lights surrounding the stage, quickly entering your number and saving it.

It wasn’t even two days after the festival before you received your first invitation out from Atsumu.

There were nights when he took you out to his favorite bar on a Thursday night because shots were 2-for-1 on Thursdays. The two of you would always run into more than one for Atsumu’s friends, and you were more than happy to allow them to indulge you in one or two embarrassing stories of Atsumu. The smile on your face grew wider each time his blush would deepen, and you didn’t know you could find him more endearing than you already do.

There were nights when he would whisk you away to a secret spot in a part of the city you had never been to. “It’s a little bit of a hike,” he’d warn you. You’d have half a mind to reprimand him for letting you wear your new shoes knowing the path would be dirty, but you were shut up by the views. Atsumu came prepared with a blanket to lay down on, taking out snacks and drinks from the backpack he was carrying. Your heart clenched at his thoughtfulness, laying down to stare at the stars peppering the sky. “The moon looks really full,” you said. “Yeah, just like my heart is for you,” he cooed. You would share a laugh, shoving him slightly, but hoping with everything that he meant it.

There were nights when he would take you to visit his brother’s onigiri shop. He would always take you either at closing time or after, ensuring that the three of you had the place to yourself. You could feel this to be some sort of test - test of what, you weren’t sure but you knew you wanted to pass it. Osamu would bring out off the menu flavors, using the two of you as his test subjects. You and Atsumu would exaggerate your judgements, commenting as if you were judges on Top Chef. “The consistency of the rice provided a good mouth feel,” you commented, rubbing a hand on your chin. “The flavors meld together perfectly, creating a refined taste suitable for any palate,” Atsumu replies, and the two of you would burst out laughing, Osamu rolling his eyes and asking you to be serious.

It was after one of those nights, belly and heart full from the nonstop eating and laughing. Atsumu walked you all the way up to your door, saying it’s much too late for you to be on your own. With your key in the door, you turned to say your good bye, only to be met by the softness of atsumu’s lips.

Nights were when Miya Atsumu let you into his world.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Afternoons were rarely spent with Atsumu.

You would think that sharing an apartment with the blonde setter would afford you more quality time, but he mostly spent his afternoons chasing his dreams.

You’ll never forget the afternoon the two of you had found out he had made onto his first pro-volleyball team; he was officially an MSBY Jackal. Happy tears were shed, on your part, but more so on his. Excitement stamped all over his face as he claimed he still had so much work to do.

You never held it against him when he came home late at night, the only interaction you’d have would be the kiss he placed on your forehead before climbing into his side of the bed. You didn’t mind that even though you were now living together, this was the most time you two would spend apart. It wasn’t like you were just waiting around; you had a job you loved and were dedicated to.

He never let you missed him too much, though.

“Are we almost there?” Atsumu gasped out, and you just threw your head back and laughed.

“What’s wrong? I thought volleyball players were supposed to have monstrous thighs or whatever?”

Atsumu grumbled. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t exhausting to scale a damn mountain!”

“Always so dramatic,” you mused, skipping ahead of him on the trail. Atsumu had a rare day off from practice, and insisted on doing whatever you wanted for the day. He was hoping you were going to say ‘let’s cuddle and stay in!’ Or ‘I want to go to that cafe I saw on Insta!’

But no, you went with “I want to go on a hike!”

It was his own fault, really. Ever since he would take you to look at the stars, you made it your mission to find all the little gems in your city.

“I swear to god, I’m gonna faint,” Atsumu placed the back of his hand on his forehead, “Please tell me we’re almost to the top!”

You grabbed his hand, pulling him up the last few steps of the trail.

“Ta da,” you sang out, out stretching your arms to present the view from the top.

Atsumu took on a deep breath and looked at the view. From the top of the trail, all that surrounded the two of you was the color green. Green leaves from towering trees that covered the face of the mountains that surrounded you. Green shrubs that littered around the forest floor, creating a lush carpet of foliage that stretched as far as you could see. In the space between the mountain ranges, Atsumu could see a hint of the ocean that lies beyond, and he could almost taste the salty air that always made his hair wavy.

The beauty of the earth surrounded him, reminding him of life flourishing all around, and all he could really look at was you.

The color of your eyes that sparkled like uncut gems when caught by the golden rays of the sun that was now nearing its highest peak in the sky could rival the most vibrant green nature could produce. The smile on your face was more blinding than the summer sun. All he could see was the beauty of the love that he knows only you could give him.

Afternoons were rarely spent with Atsumu, but he’s thankful for every chance he gets to be part of your world.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Mornings with Miya Atsumu were lazy, and intimate.

The habit of early mornings were hard to break, and regardless of whether you set an alarm or not, the both of you would stir awake at the crack of dawn.

You could feel Atsumu’s heated breath on the back of your neck as he wrapped an arm around your waist. “Good morning,” he would mumble, voice still thick with last nights sleep, dripping into your ears like fresh honey.

“Good morning,” you would reply back, turning around to bury your face into his chest. You loved the way he would always pull you closer, as if there was no wya you could be close enough, trying to fuse you into his own body. You don’t care that you can’t really breathe in this position - there was no where else you would rather be.

Though you were willing to stay that way forever, it was only a matter of time before life interrupts peace and demands to be lived. After a few more soft kisses placed on any bare skin lips could get too, maybe a few fingers brushing through your rats nest of a hair, Atsumu always was the first get up out of bed. You’d try to beg him for a few more minutes, but he’d make you laugh and say “I’d love to doll, but my bladders bout to burst all over our sheets,” and you can’t do anything but laugh and let him go.

Atsumu always showered first since his days started earlier, and you would make your way downstairs to make coffee for the both of you. You usually drank it black, but you made Atsumu’s with a little extra cream. He never asks you to, but you always packed him a lunch and snacks to take to practice, leaving little notes with words of affirmation to get him through the day. The look of pure admiration and love you get when you simply hand him a lunch box, thermos, a peck on the lips, and a prayer for safety; you think this must be true happiness.

You walk back up to the bathroom to start your morning routine, and feel warmth spread all over when you see that he’s set up your toothbrush on the sink with a glob of toothpaste on top and a little cup of mouthwash prepared and ready for you to use.

You loved Miya Atsumu at all hours of the day, but mornings just might be your favorite.

In the morning, Miya Atsumu was just for you.

[idjitlili]

I can be the God of your Orgasm.

Loki x reader

(Not my image)

Summary:Some how ending up in Sakaar ,Valkyrie ends up taking you under her wing,no not her horse Aragorn,for a year ,until some Gods show up.

Word count:1768

Warnings:Language

A/n: Couldn’t end it , last time I touched this was October. Uhm, there’s a picture of Bowie, probably TMI here, but he was the first man , I ever you know over.Double aswell. I’m sorry.

You just a young woman in y/c ,heading to college your average routine ,but you never made it. Instead you had tripped over into a puddle ,but yet again you were decieved ,it was a portal. You hadn't/only left your country ,let alone been on another planet. You didn't think that was even possible;magic nor to be able to breathe on an different planet,well that was what you were told by the government. No you weren't a flat earther,thats bloody stupid. However you felt like the government hid a lot.

Michael Jacksons death,Heath Ledgers death,River Phoenix's death, Princess Diana's death , David Bowie, Obi-wan,it just seemed a little suspicous, not saying it was definitely them covering up the murders but...

Anyways so you fell into the puddle into a some rubbish ,literal rubbish. You had no idea what happened ,when Valkyrie found you she didn't either. God damn Benedict cumpatch stay in america with your fake american accent. Just stay away ,don't really want to be assassainated for being best buds with Sherlock Holmes and Dildo Gaggins.

Valkyrie had felt bad for such a young mortal being in an strange planet,she couldn't bare to bring you to Grandmaster ,to be apart of his orgies. he was indeed a tough warrior much like Dwalin the dwarf from the hobbit,who funfact is the longest living dwarf living up to 300 years,yes irrelvent.

Thus, you lived with her ,you managed to get a part time job as a cook,just so you didn't feel so bad about living with Valkyrie rent free. When I say part time cook ,I mean you just cooked for you and her,you didn't trust this planet. It was lucky when you fell in that puddle the stuff in your backpack didn't get wet,so you had some books to read,and such.

To be far being away from home stuck on an alien planet really did get boring ,you'd hate to admit it but sometimes you had to go to visit Hulk,because he was sorta normal. No he was not but he was okay ,like a destructive toddler but it was better than being alone. Other than that you really missed home ,you missed tv,you missed ice cream.

Pretty much everyday was boring. Well after almost a year of being here ,Valkyrie had brought a guest to your shared apartment thing. The God you had seen on the television a couple years ago. You had been sitting on the sofa reading at the time ,you jumped so hard when the door slammed open,you had looked up to see valkyrie shoving down a dark haired man in chains.

"Uhhh, are you allowed to kidnap people here?" you had questioned ,causing Valkyrie and the guy turn to you ,you had recognised him after a moment of trying to pin point his face. "I don't think that will hold him...h-he's-"

"Just stay away from him ,don't talk to him,don't look at him,hell don't even think about him,I will be back with Thor ,and then we can get you home, Y/n. So pack your things ." Soon as she had mentioned going home you had already started gathering your things,as Valkyrie had left after the God of Thunder. No you didn't go to the big battle compitions and Valkyrie certainly did not tell you she had found Thor ,but it didn't matter you were going home.

It didn't take you long to pack soon,you had your shoes on and everything sitting on the sofa ,twiddling your thumbs,feeling Loki's gaze on you. What's up with in love stories men staring , oh shut up you are just jealous because you can't even get a boyfriend ,stupid scribe.

"she said not to think about you...can you read minds?" you had questioned ,just really because that gaze he had on you made you feel proper ugly ,in which you were not. He had scoffed at you.

"I'm not a witch."

"I never said you were,you are a God ,must be better than having a hammer, it's like a normal hammer with steriods."

"Ah..so you have heard of me," He had smirked to himself ,you had just looked back at you hands before reaching for your bag grabbing your journal and ink,before just scribbing doodles on a clean page.Loki didn't speak after that not until you did again ten minutes later ,probably less time goes slow when the mood is a drag.

"the thing with new York, that was because of Thanos? People have controlled me by making me feel guilty so many times..OH manipulation ,you probably don't want to hear what I have to say,but I can't help it ,i've been stuck here a year the only person I got to speak to is drunk Valkyrie and hulk in which I feel like I am talking to a child. You know what I really wish I was watching Lord of the rings right-"

"You are from earth,how did you end up here?" He had grinned at you,cutting you off,isn't he like a mass murderer? Well he was tricked into doing it ,so more like accidental murderer ,why is he so handsome. Don't be stupid he is a God of course he is handsome.

"Uh..I fell into a puddle then I was here." The God had turned his head away to the floor ,scrunching his eyebrows together in confusion.

"I don't see how that's possible."

"Well it happene-" Yet you were cut off again,as the door slammed open,you quickly turned away back to your notebook,Thor ,Bruce and Valkyrie stood at the door.

You missed what happened first ,Loki having things thrown at him ,and such,you only looked up when he said something about spaceships,seeing Bruce. Your eyes glittered with excitement , Thor saw this. "Oh my! I can't believe it's-2 Thor had shook his head for you not say it. "Radiation scientist,Bruce Banner, damn,now I must say this is much more exciting than a hammer,which you don't have what's up with that? Hey Bruce how you feeling?Green? Darn, imagine being strongest Avenger!"

Thor had scoffed at you,"Does she always talk this much?"Bruce had made his way over to you smiling at you as you stood up. "It is so cool to meet you mister Banner."

"Thank you miss..." "Y/n" He had smiled at you again before turning to Thor ,"see strongest Avenger,yep that's me."

"well then ,let' hope we can get home,just first we are to go to Asgard."

***

"Valkyrie ,I'm going to stay with Dwayne Johnson,I have no fighting skills so it's better if come I after," you had gestured to Korg.

"Alright then, I'll see you if I don't die" And with that she left you with the aliens,smiling up to them.

"The revolution has begun."

***

"Hey, what's this?"

"Thank you." You had stood next to Korg as he had powered down the taser device on Loki's body,you had stood rocking on your balls of your feet in excitement to get home.

"Hey,man. We're about to jump on that ginormous spaceship. You wanna come?" Loki had jumped up,his hair a messy ,from the intense pain he had just suffered,from betraying his brother yet again.

"well you do seem like you're in desperate need of leadership." The smirk was interweaved into his voice, smooth as his greasy hair.

"Why, thank you."

"Hurry up! It has been too long since I've seen the dance seen in the james franco spiderman three!" You rushed forwards grabbing a hold of the mischief makers arm dragging him towards the ship. "Talkative and touchy," Loki just allowed you to drag him,with him supposively being evil,grinning.

***

"uhhh, what's the chances of as all dying horribly? Do you think if i pretend to be dead she wouldn't notice?" Loki was driving the space ship,whilst you sat in the seat next to him,all the alien people sat or stood behind. You really be riding shotgun on a spaceship,it was you or korg.

Loki did not answer you , yet just slightly smiled glancing to you briefly, not a good sign, you'd think with two Gods you'd be fine ,but clearly not. "Hey do you think if Thor had to fight I don't know- AHH" You weren't sure who you meant to say as you face planted into the spaceship's floor,as Loki's flying had stopped so suddenly causing a jolt. You had laughed to your lesson quietly,patheticly in honesty ,covering up how embarrassing that was.

You felt as if you were Mantis ,when Drax had informed her to watch out after she got hit in the face.  All you could think was there's like a bunch of aliens on this ship and it's guaranteed at least 3 have just seen you face plant.  "Okay , that makes me wish that I was on Thors spaceship right now." Your hair in your face, forearms pressed against the cold metal floor.

"What does he have that I don't?" His voice seeped with sarcasm, okay maybe not he was probably just annoyed that a midgardian was aboard and could not shut up.

"He probably can fly this thing better, well it's probably Bruce but that's even better , do you even know how many PHDs he has?"

"Honestly I do not know and do not care."

"Wow that's not very nice . He has..wait I dont -" The smirk on Loki's face was stamped deep, as he pulled you out of your concentration by doing so. "Shut up I bet you say to all your lovers, ‘If you givee a chance I can be the god of your orgasm’” Honestly you don’t know what made you think of that , something tells you it’s to do with a dude that reads a lot of smut named Blake. Actually the author doesn’t know if he does but..

“Thank you darling, for the new material.”

[nyxdelanuit]

It Started With a Postcard (Sero x F! Reader)

This is my contribution to the BNHarem’s penpal event! This event is nsfw so be warned! I had a lot of fun with this collab <3 

Please see the Penpal Masterlist to see the other characters! 

Warnings: smut, nsfw themes below!

Sero stood outside his apartment, staring down at a flowery postcard in his hand with an apprehensive gaze. The early afternoon sun warmed his shoulders, reminding him that he was still stood outside of his modest house. He brought the mail inside, kicking off his shoes at the door. Bills and various coupons were glanced over quickly before his eyes returned to the stiff postcard. The other mail was inelegantly dropped on the kitchen counter. Sero’s eyes scanned the delicate writing as he rummaged his kitchen for a drink. The handwriting was rushed and messy, but still a softer hand than his own.  

It had been a spur of the moment kind of thing, signing up for an anonymous penpal. He had been passing through a stationery store on his way home from patrol, preferring the calm walk home instead of flying above as he did for work. It allowed him to leave a lot of the tension of his job outside of his home as he watched the calm masses meander through the streets in the dying light. He had passed the shop many times before. There was just something that pulled to the shopfront that day. The scent of wooden pencils and lightly perfumed paper leaked out onto the streets, likely from the kiosk placed in front of the encompassing window. He knew it was a ploy to get more out of a dying business, selling a penpal package with bundled paper, envelopes, stamps, and a single postcard. There were spaces to fill out his information, and all letters would be sent through the shop. It had been tempting at the time, the opportunity to talk to someone who didn’t know his hero persona.

It had gotten tiring throughout the years, being the backbone of his friend group. Bakugou didn’t have the emotional intelligence to comfort their friends, Kaminari and Mina were too reckless and blase, and poor Kirishima was ironically too soft. So it had fallen to him, the voice of reason. The one everyone called at three in the morning when the weight was too heavy for one of his friends to hold alone. He had carried it all for years, not stopping to wonder who would hold him together while he supported everyone else. He just had to shrug it off with a smile, as they expected.

But now, the unassuming postcard in his hand offered something different. This person expected nothing more from him than a letter. He didn’t have to be Sero the hero, or Sero the strong one, he could just be Sero. His eyes roamed over the postcard once more before he searched the house for the bundle of paper he purchased. He flopped down onto his couch, picking out a soft grey piece of stationary and leaning over his coffee table to write.

For the first time since high school, Sero struggled with his words. His sentences were awkward and stunted and he floundered over what to say. It was harder than he remembered to start up a conversation with someone who couldn’t instantly reply. Even more so when he was trying to be vigilant about not letting his penpal, Y/N, know about his hero work. Everything he put down about his life felt vague and he hoped his new penpal would overlook his obvious avoidance of the topic.

It took a few days before Sero received a reply. He couldn’t excuse the excitement he felt at the soft envelope in his mailbox, stamped with the stationery store’s address. Sero briefly wondered about who his penpal could be, it would have to be someone within his patrol area. The store was locally owned after all. Perhaps he had even saved his penpal before.

While Sero’s letter had been subdued, neutral in both color and tone, his penpal was decidedly exuberant. The paper itself was awash in pastels with a light littering of designs, neither dark enough to obscure their writing. He noticed the writing was less hurried, but not much neater. It helped anchor Sero to the idea that it was another person on the other side of this letter, something as little as not having the best penmanship was oddly endearing.

His name ‘Hanta’ curled in a delicate slant at the top, causing the breath in Sero’s lungs to hitch. He had forgotten he hadn’t signed his full name, too worried that his penpal would connect it to his hero life and put him on some sort of pedestal. His penpal wrote significantly more about themselves than he had, but didn’t seem perturbed at his reluctance.

They worked a job they were okay at, they lived modestly within their means, they saw their friends often enough, and they met with their parents once a month for dinner. They were happy, but they wished for something to break up the monotony, therefore they signed up for the penpal service. Even though the topic was a bit dull, Sero saw the life behind their words. Humor laced their words and although Sero wasn’t quite happy about the self-deprecating tone, he could work with that. Your name was signed at the bottom, a messy smiley face scrawled just next to it. Without thinking, he brushed his thumb over the doodle, the smile blurred but still bringing a smile to Sero’s face.

There was no hesitance this time as he picked a more playful stationary. The words seem to flow onto the paper with no thought, he had forgotten how nice it was to just communicate with someone with no pretenses.

Weeks passed this way, and people could tell there was a little more pep to Cellophane’s step. He was more eager to get home, a new letter appearing in his mailbox every few days. Truth be told, he hated the wait. Every word poured out to pages made him feel closer to his mystery friend. He paused today, walking through the busy streets. Did he consider his penpal his friend? In every way you could consider someone you know only through words on paper, he supposed he did. Throughout the months of writing, there had been no lack of conversation. They shared in each other’s good fortune and even a few less fortunate events. Sero looked forward to their letters even more than Kaminari’s occasional club invites. Even now as he dodged his neighbor’s attempts at conversation, all he could think of was the softly scented envelope he hoped was waiting for him.

His hopes were rewarded. Sero glanced sheepishly at the growing piles of neglected mail on his counters as he cradled the letter to his chest. He wasted no time reclining on his couch and opening your letter. He wondered, not for the first time, if you sprayed some sort of perfume on your letter or if that was just the scent of you. Either way, it had become a comfort to him. There was no stopping the grin that dominated his face as he laid back onto the couch, intently running his eyes over your words. You always made sure to respond to everything he said, Sero had no idea the last time he felt this seen.

He was already moving to pen up a reply before he noticed your signature smiley face was missing from the end of the letter. Instead, penned in a shaky hand,

‘Call me sometime, Hanta. XXX-XXX-XXXX’

Sero stumbled over his feet trying to get up, ultimately ending up in a heap on the floor. In his haste, he struck out with his tape, pulling his phone from the counter into his hand. He quickly unstuck the tape and tapped open his contacts. Once your contact was filled out, the empty picture stared Sero in the face. His fingers seemed to move on their own, pressing the phone icon softly. It finally registered as the dial tone rang through his silent house, his hands fumbling to get the phone to his ear.

You picked up after two rings.

“Hanta!” His heart swelled as he realized he wasn’t the only one eager to talk, not to mention his given name falling so easily from your lips.

“Wow, do you have some sort of psychic quirk?” He chuckled into the phone. Neither of you had disclosed your quirks as of yet. You returned his laughter nervously.

“Oh definitely, I haven’t been answering every unknown number the past two days with your name or anything.” Sero settled himself on the floor, his free arm stretching up over his head. The sun streaming through his window, the particles in the air lit like tiny embers as they drifted. It felt as if his grin was etched into his face with how much he was smiling. He almost missed the silence that stretched on as he tried to imprint your voice into his head.

“Oh, sorry. I just got off of work, why don’t you tell me how your day went while I unwind a little?” It almost felt as if he was floating as you prattled on about the mundane happenings of your day. It was so normal, so nice. He forgot how nice it was to just live for a minute.

“Hanta?” He hoped you couldn’t tell the way he choked on his breath every time you said his name. “You just got off of work, how was your day?”

“Well I’ve got a few hours to rest before I’m on call, but today was pretty low-key as far as they go.” It felt natural to tell you about his day that he didn’t notice his slip up. It wasn’t as easy as it was on paper.

“On-call?” Sero cringed as you questioned. “Like at a hospital or something?”

”Something like that.” He rubbed at the bridge of his nose. He heard you hum an affirmation, but to his surprise, you didn’t push any further.

“Sounds kinda rough, Hanta. I know I’m pretty cranky when my schedule gets changed.” He appreciated how you kept trying to get to know him without pushing the things he wasn’t ready to share. “And it must be some commute if you work in something like a hospital. There aren’t any close-by. Oh, sorry, I guess I’m assuming you live nearby since the paper shop is local.”

“Yeah, I do. Live nearby, I mean… and the commute isn’t terrible.” Sero muttered awkwardly into the phone.

“I wonder how many times we’ve passed each other without knowing.” Your voice came out a little breathlessly as if you were daydreaming on the other end.

It was easy for Sero to fall into you. Hours passed by as the two of you talked about anything that came to mind. He had barely even noticed the shadows growing deeper as the light faded from his house, until only darkness remained, cut by a singular beam of light from the bright moon. He was fully content to talk to you all night, provided that he wasn’t called into work. At least he was until your yawn cut through your voice.

“I didn’t realize it was so late. Shouldn’t you be getting some rest?” Your voice was getting exponentially drowsy with each minute that passed.

“I’m already on-call, you should get some sleep though.” He chuckled softly into the receiver. Your sleepy voice was adorable.

“Hanta! You shouldn’t have let me blather on instead of letting you rest.” You tried your best to reprimand him, but it only brought forth another soft chuckle.

“I’ll be fine. It was worth it to talk to you, anyway. Now go to bed. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Hanta.” Your voice was barely a breath, and Sero was reluctant to hang up.

It became a nightly ritual between the two of you. Sero called whenever he got off of work, and the two of you talked throughout the night. He insisted you stay on the line even as he made dinner. Sero gave good advice on your shitty coworkers, and he told you stories about his eccentric friends to fill the empty space. You had even tuned into a show together, commenting about the bad storyline and cheesy acting. Every night, Sero would wait for your yawn and wish you a goodnight. You had buried yourself in his heart, and he was in no hurry to remove you.

You were convinced you had worried a path in your floor. Sero’s calls were never on a set schedule, but he had called you every night for over a month, and it was passed the time you usually fell asleep on him. There had been no word from him all day, not even a text to say he’d miss your call.

Sero got back home late. It had been the worst day that he’d had in a while. He was called for assistance rescuing people while some of his more combat-oriented heroes took on a villain, but there had been heavy casualties. All the tape in the world couldn’t fix someone crushed by the rubble. Sero knew that too well now.

His body moved on muscle memory. He had already changed out of his gear and showered at the agency, so he simply kicked his shoes off and stumbled to the couch. There was no thought to it as he dialed your number.

“Hanta! Are you okay?” The panic in your voice floored him.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t even think of how late it was. Did I wake you?” The somber tone of his voice shook you.

“It’s fine, did something happen?” Sero sighed into the phone, choosing his words carefully.

“My work involves helping people, but I wasn’t able to save all of them today.”

The two of you talked into the early hours of the morning. Sero felt everything spill over as he spoke, and you somehow took everything in stride.

“...And I couldn’t do anything.” Somehow his chest felt lighter and tight all at the same time.

“That doesn’t mean that your work isn’t important anymore. You make a difference. A big one.” Was this how other people felt when he was on the other side? It didn’t stop hurting, but knowing that someone was there carrying the weight with you was more than Sero could have hoped for.

Life returned to normal after that, with the exception that Sero started being a little more forthcoming with how his days went. You still didn’t know his exact occupation, but you knew enough to help on the rough days. It only made the feelings Sero had for you more intense. Even though the two of you talked every night and sent little text messages throughout the day, neither you nor Sero stopped sending little letters to each other.

Sero was rummaging through the leftover bits of his penpal package, trying to find a good piece of stationery to pen his next letter. His frown marred his face as dull, formal paper littered the bottom of the box. It would have seemed silly to him at the beginning of your correspondence, but he wanted everything to be perfect in his letters. He had saved every one you had sent, after all. If you were doing the same, they had to at least look like they were worth saving.

Sero wandered into the stationery store, sunglasses perched on his face and a practiced neutral expression on his face. With his hoodie bunched up around his oddly shaped elbows, the only recognizable feature Sero seemed to have was his trademark grin. If he could get in and out without being noticed, he would be able to get a letter out tonight instead of tomorrow morning.

If drumming up business was the reason for the penpal event, it sure seemed to work if Sero was any judge. He wandered through the aisles, stopping often to look at delicate papers with seasonal decorations. He noticed with a flush that all papers in his grasp were soft and floral, reminiscent of new spring love. In an effort to shake those thoughts from his mind, he watched the other patrons roaming the store. Any of them could be you, passing by without even knowing. One customer in particular had caught his eye, thumbing papers in soft greys and a pale yellow clutched in her hands. How lucky he would be if you were anything like her. He realized a bit later that his distraction had only led him deeper into his daydreams, so instead, he browsed the rubber stamps and stickers towards the end of the aisle. Would you like it if he placed stickers on his letters? Which ones would you like? Maybe the delicate cherry blossom stickers, or the pack with puppies? Did you like a specific character?

He had been so lost in his thoughts, he almost missed the ring of the vaguely familiar voice from the front of the store. He heard it every night, but never this clear. Who else could it be but you? He rushed to the front of the store, the bell chiming as it fell closed. He had half a mind to follow you into the street, seek you out finally. Maybe then he could get you out of his head. But the shopkeeper had called to him, noticing his armful of papers, and Sero knew it was too late. Even if he left now, he wouldn’t be able to pick you out of the crowd. Next time he wouldn’t hesitate.

It was easier to admit on paper. Sero wrote to you that night about how he thought he may have just missed you earlier, and how he had started thinking about meeting up. His hand trembled as he wrote about he was a bit nervous about how much he liked you. He finished the letter quickly, sealing it in an envelope and placing it in the mailbox before collapsing in bed. No taking it back now.

It had been quiet for days, and Sero was starting to feel on edge. He liked the days where there wasn’t much to do, it meant that everything was safe and he was doing his job, but multiple days in a row meant trouble. It didn’t take long for his hunch to be proven correct. Glass shattered onto the streets, metal crunched against metal, and Sero moved as fast as he could push himself to go.

Thankfully a few heroes had been nearby to assist Sero with the robbery-turned-mass-destruction. It took them longer than Sero liked, but the villains were subdued. With the criminals apprehended, Sero focused on the cleanup. He had no more than a few scratches, but he was worried about all those that may be trapped in the toppling buildings. A few buildings sat askew, steel beams exposed like snakes reaching out into the sky. It was fairly easy for him to stabilize the buildings, swinging around with his tape like a spider cocooning its prey. As each building was stabilized, he quickly scanned through the halls, escorting any remaining citizens out of the building and past the danger zone. He worked methodically, moving down the street and clearing each building before the next. Compassionate, yet logical. He couldn’t let the recent memory of his losses skew his current predicament.

Those thoughts had swum through Sero’s head until a harsh squeal accompanied by a metallic groan met his ears. He wasted no time jumping into action, flinging himself through the sky to the source. There you hung, dangling by increasingly sweaty hands as you desperately tried to get a better grip on the slowly sagging steel girder. Sero’s heart beat erratically against his chest, but his body moved on instincts ingrained in his muscles.

It always looked so smooth in the movies when the hero swoops in to save the girl. The girl would stare up at the hero in admiration as they glided through the air, as graceful in the sky as a bird. That’s not how you felt. Cellophane’s body collided against yours like a truck, pushing the air from your lungs. Your whole body lurched against his as he scooped you up. The crashing of the beam behind you echoed in your ears, you couldn’t begin to imagine what would have happened if he had been even a minute later. Cellophane may have swung through the air like he was made for it, but your body was jostled by the air beating against your face. The helmet seemed a really wise choice at the moment. As you struggled to grip onto his form, you felt the phone in your pocket easing it’s way out.

“Hey, stop squirming. I’ve got you.” Cellophane spoke to you calmly, but all you could think of was the phone that was about to shatter across the pavement far below you. Your hand reached out to grasp at the device, grasping around thin air. “It’s just a phone, you can get a new one.” Cellophane tried to comfort you as you watched the glittering of your phone exploding and becoming one with the debris of the street.

“No, I have to be there when Hanta calls!” You cried out. Today had already been hard enough, and in your frightened state, all you could think of was how Hanta would hate you if you ghosted him. Cellophane’s chuckle rumbled through where your chests touched, and you couldn’t help but smack his shoulder lightly. “It’s not funny.” Tears gathered in your eyes, all these emotions were too much for you.

“I think Hanta won’t mind if you miss a call, Y/N.” He cooed. You were startled as the tears escaped your eyes.

“Hanta?” His grin was visible through his helmet as he clutched you a little closer to his chest.

“Gotta say, this wasn’t what I was thinking of when I said I wanted to meet you.” You manage to loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer, causing him to veer off course slightly. He righted himself with a nervous chuckle, landing gently on a stable rooftop nearby. “Sit tight for a bit and I’ll come get you, okay?” You could only nod numbly as he propelled himself back into the sky.

Sero may have rushed through his work, knowing you were waiting for him as the chill of the night started to set in. It had been a long time since he felt such a thrill soaring through the city. He circled lowly around the building, coming up behind you as you swung your feet off the edge of the building, staring up at the night sky. He plopped down beside you, removing his helmet and fidgeting with his sweat-slicked hair.

“So… come here often?” Sero pulled a startled chuckle out of you before you leaned onto his shoulder.

“Good one Hanta. Or should I say Cellophane? Now I kinda get why you were so reluctant to tell me your job.” You returned your sights to the sky, a little nervous to look him in the eye.

He stood then and offered you a hand. “Sero Hanta, hero name Cellophane, at your service.” He grinned down at you, and you took his hand to help you stand. You toed the ground with a flush.

“So should I call you Sero then?” It was Sero’s turn to blush.

“Actually, I was hoping this wouldn’t change much between us. I like it when you use my given name.” You nodded, finally looking into his eyes.

“Then you should use mine, too!” Your joined hands still sat between you, and although Sero had realized, he simply gave it a soft squeeze.

“Well, my place is nearby if you want to get cleaned up?” He offered awkwardly. You were suddenly and intensely aware of how all the dust and dirt clung to your skin.

“That would be wonderful.” His smile turned mischievous as he pulled you to his chest, not giving you time to get nervous as he vaulted the two of you off the roof. You had half a mind to scold him, but you were too focused on enjoying the ride. Seeing the city you lived in, the streets you walked every day, from a bird’s eye view was not something you would forget anytime soon. The biting wind stung your eyes, but you couldn’t bring yourself to close them.

To your surprise, Sero deposited the two of you on his balcony. Why waste time with the front door when he could meander through the sliding door? He quickly ushered you through his room. He tried to at least. You were having too much fun pretending your legs were jelly and trying to get a glimpse of his room. It was nice to know that the light-hearted chemistry you had felt over the phone was more than present in person by the way Sero was laughing along with you instead of kicking you out.

The two of you settled into his living room, cold drinks in hand as you tried to catch your breath from the whirlwind of a day. Sero seemed to be keeping an eye on you, and you wondered if he was simply looking for any lingering unease from the attack or if he was as enamored with you as you were with him.

“The bathroom is down the hall, you should get cleaned up.” He broke the comfortable silence, motioning to a door behind you. You shook your head vehemently.

“Oh no, Mr. Hero, sir.” You giggled at him, “You worked a long and hard day, I can wait.”

“You’re the guest!”

“And I’ll be a damned good one and let you go first.” Sero huffed at you before conceding, tossing you a remote to the television as he passed.

“Fine, but next time you go first.” You gasped as he disappeared behind a door.

“Oooh, so you already think there will be a next time? Hanta, I took you for a gentleman!” You jeered at him playfully. Even with the door closed, you could hear him groan.

“Shush! I have neighbors ya know.” He tried to sound put-off, but you could hear the laughter in his voice. To his credit, he didn’t make you wait very long. Steam rolled out of the bathroom as he walked out, still toweling his hair. You tried not to stare at the way his shorts hung low on his hips or the way his shirt stuck to his still-damp skin, but there was no good place to look that wouldn’t make it obvious. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice your conundrum, simply gesturing to the bathroom.

“It’s all ready for you, I’ve put out a towel you can use. Feel free to use any of my stuff, although it might smell as nice as you’re used to.” You thanked him softly as you escaped into the bathroom to hide your flush. The water still ran warm from Sero’s shower, and you were quick to strip and step into the stream. You watched in fascination as all the day’s mess ran down the drain, a sickly grey.

Sero waited for you on his couch, still pristine. He frowned, realizing that you had probably stood the whole time as to not dirty his furniture. You were too stubborn for your own good, it seemed. He mindlessly flipped through the channels, wondering vaguely if he should just watch one of the many shows he neglected. It wasn’t until he heard the soft padding of your feet that he pulled himself from his thoughts. You stood at the entrance of the hallway, covered only by the fluffy towel he had left for you. Your face was fully flushed, and Sero tried to convince himself it was only from the shower.

“My clothes are completely wrecked, do you have anything I could change into?” Your voice was soft and reluctant, and Sero was quick to pop off the couch, slipping slightly in his haste to help you once again. He tried to slip past you to his room, but he couldn’t help stopping as your skin brushed against his. You looked up at him, eyes wide and questioning.

Sero prided himself on his control. Out of all of his friends, he was known as the level-headed and logical one. Even so, that restraint only went so far. Seeing you in such a state of undress, looking up at him so earnestly, it broke the dam holding back his desires.

His hands tangled in your wet hair, pulling your lips to his with bruising force. You gasped into his hold, dropping the towel as you draped your arms around his neck. Clothes were forgotten as his hands traveled down your neck, moving your head to fit against his better. His tongue traced against your lips with agonizing slowness, but his hands held no such restraint. His rough fingertips drifted down your neck, ghosting past your nipples as they made their way to your waist. He didn’t hesitate to lift you by the thighs, making you anchor your legs around him.

Sero staggered to his room, never once compromising his hold on you. His body followed you down onto his bed, not letting his lips leave you for more than a moment. When he finally broke away, eyes hazy with lust, he gazed down at you.

“Is this okay?” He wanted you to be sure. You were, especially after his question.

“Yes, Hanta. I want you.” Your voice was heavy with your desire, driving him to strip his shirt with an urgency he rarely felt outside of work. The fabric flew into the darkness of the room and his lips were on you shortly after. He let his hands roam now that you were in his bed, kneading experimentally at your breasts. You pushed your chest into his hold, encouraging him to give you more. Your hands found their way to his navel tracing down the path of dark hair. Sero was already straining against the fabric, and you softly swirled your fingers over the tip. He groaned darkly against your mouth, pulling back to rip the shorts off of his body. His lips descended on your chest, harsh nips and soothing licks raining down on your skin. You were so focused on the way he wrapped his lips around your nipple that you hadn’t noticed his hand grazing your skin down to your core. Sero swirled his tongue around your nipple, lavishing the other in rough pinches and soothing circles.

Your back arched off the bed as he spread your folds, skimming over your clit. You bucked against his hand, desperate to feel his fingers against you.

“You’re so wet for me.” He panted against your chest, staring up at you with dark eyes. “Did you think of me after our calls? Did our talks make your heart race like they did mine?” You nodded helplessly.

“Please Hanta.” You begged for his touch and he was too enamored with you to resist. His finger entered you deftly, his palm rough against your clit.

“I had hoped so, ya know I liked you even before I saw your face. Now I know how good you look, I don’t want to let you go.” He finished his breathy sentence with a nip to the underside of your breast, making you squirm against him. He moved back to watch you, adding another finger and then two. The squelching noises coming from his fingers would have normally embarrassed you, but you found yourself lost in the way that he stared at you like an oasis in a desert; like you were something he had been waiting for so long to indulge in. “I already knew you must be beautiful, just from your voice, but fuck, you are so much more than I could imagine. I think I could be happy to spend the rest of my life in this bed with you if you kept looking at me the way you do now.” His hand retreated from your heat, and your body tried to follow. “I’m sorry, I can’t hold back anymore.” He panted, fisting his weeping length before sliding it through the slick collected between your legs.

It was a sweet stretch as Sero sunk into you, a few thrusts before he was fully seated inside you. You reached for him, scratching at his shoulders as you tried to roll your hips up to meet him.

“Fuck, babe. You’re pulling me in so good.” He groaned, placing sloppy kisses across your shoulder. He pulled out to the tip, teasing himself as much as he was teasing you, before slamming home with a lewd smack. Your keening moan set him off, pistoning into your tight cunt without remorse. His fingers dug into your thighs as he tried to angle them higher without slowing. Sero’s hands slid up to the underside of your knees, almost bending you in half as he rolled his hips viciously, grinding up against your engorged clit with every thrust.

“I can’t get you off of my mind. F-fuck, I can’t let you go now. You’re stuck with me.” His hips stuttered against you as he spoke, slowing down to edge himself. The slowed pace had you writhing, not able to buck up against him well in this position. He chuckled softly, his breath hot on your skin. You were so focused on chasing your high, your eyes shut tight and head thrown back, that you barely noticed the tearing of tape coming from Sero. He deftly crossed your legs, attaching the tape to his headboard off to the side in a way that still allowed him to see your face. “Goddamn, babe, you’re so tight like this.” His breathing was erratic as he placed his newly-freed hands on your ass, separating them until he could clearly see himself sinking into your warm cunt. You gasped under his intense gaze, clenching around his cock. The veins were clear in his neck as he tried to hold himself back, his voice caught in his throat.

Then he snapped, a low groan resonating throughout the room. He was all fast, demanding thrusts and blissful praises. You responded in kind, wordless wails of pleasure and breathless gasps. “I’m not gonna be able to last much longer. Cum for me, baby, please.” He pleaded with you, his voice gravelly and needy. His calloused fingers found your clit easily, rubbing figure eights just on the right side of pain. Your legs struggled against the tape as you tried to grind yourself more on his length, pushing his cock into the spongy area that craved his attention. You felt yourself wind up, breaths shallow as you stayed rigid against his passion, desperate for him to keep rubbing against that spot. Your head was swimming with the lack of oxygen as you held your breath long enough for the tension to snap. Sero’s head flew back with a moan as your walls started to drag him further in, constricting his cock with an encompassing ecstasy. He sped up, keeping you on the precipice of over-stimulation. With a final wet smack, he sheathed himself within you, pulsating as the warm ropes of his cum branded your insides.

He stayed within you as he gently removed the tape from your skin, leaving soft kisses on every reddening section of skin. His hands rubbed soothing circles into your thighs, moving down to your calves. “Are your legs sore? I probably should have asked sooner.” He looked a bit ashamed as he asked, only relaxing once you shook your head. “Good.” He pulled out of you slowly, your combined fluids steadily flowing from you.

He quickly ran to his bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and wetting it with warm water. Once he returned, he returned to his spot between your legs, delicately wiping up all remnants of your fluids. His touch was careful against your swollen sex, and the warmth soothed away any ache that may have remained. He cleaned himself quickly after, only settling himself in bed once he deemed you were taken care of. Once he collapsed onto the bed, he pulled you onto his shoulder.

“So… would it be presumptuous of me to call you my girlfriend?” A thread of nervousness weaved through his voice as he tucked your face away from his flushing face. You allowed yourself a tired giggle.

“I think that’d be nice, Hanta.” He shuddered at the feeling of your breath against his neck.

“Oh, great! Well then, does my beautiful, caring, amazing girlfriend want to stay the night.” You could feel his grin against your head and couldn’t resist the one on your own face.

“Well, I’m pretty sure I don’t have work tomorrow, so why not.”

[creativeskullcreations]

Buddy’s Problem part 3

And here's the last chapter! And if it feels kinda incomplete, that's cause it kinda is. I wasn't able to fit everything I wanted to into this fic, so there will probably be another fic later, focusing on Buddy solving his problems with the help of the others.

But that will be in a while, cause I've got other stuff to do first, and other fics to write. Until then, enjoy this fic, maybe check out my other fics, and definitely check out Left Behind, written by my friend @colorfulcollectordragon-2f8ee55c.

Filbo was having fun. Everyone, was having fun as far as he could tell. While they had, originally, gone to Gramble's place for the party it ended up that Gramble practically lived out of an animal shelter. Fitting, for the short Grumpus, but not very good for a party. So they had ended up moving to Wambus and Triffany's house instead, which meant they could be as loud as they want.

Which Chandlo took as a challenge, of course, after he had had a few beers. As it turned out, the bodybuilder was a lightweight, and Snorpy was currently trying to make him be quiet.

Beyond that, everyone else seemed to be having a great time, chatting among themselves or dancing to the music. Though Cromdo and Wiggle had gotten into a bit of a singing competition, it seemed to be all in good fun.

"Man, this is a great party!" Filbo commented to himself as he sipped at his own beer. He didn't get drunk easily, but he still wanted to be able to drive home. He could easily stay the night, but he didn't want to intrude.

He looked out the window, which had a good view of the driveway. No little red car yet, but it was still early. They'd left a note on Gramble's door, so Buddy would know to come here instead.

Hopefully, he'd be able to make it.

But, as the night went on and the party ran down, Buddy never showed up. And Filbo couldn't stop the hard, cold ball of dread from forming in his stomach. Finally, he went to where Wambus was arguing with Snorpy on whether he should continue growing and selling sauce.

"Hey, uh, Wambus?" The farmer turned to face the new Mayor fully, ignoring Snorpy even as he kept talking. "Can I use your phone?"

"Why?" He asked, reaching out to shove Snorpy's hat over his eyes. The poor guy must have drunk more than Filbo'd thought, as he immediately tripped over his own feet and onto the couch.

"Uh, well, Buddy told me he'd come. But, y'know, he never showed up. So I wanted to give him a quick call, and make sure he was okay."

"Sure." He gestured for Filbo to follow, and led the smaller Grumpus to the phone on the wall. He then leaned against the other wall nearby to watch as Filbo dialed in the number he'd memorized, and held the receiver up to his ear.

Nothing, just a dial tone. He hung up, then tried again to be greeted with the same result. He was about to try a third time when Wambus snatched the phone and did it for him instead, frowning at he dial tone.

"Does he usually call people at this time of night?" He asked as he hung up, and Filbo shook his head.

"Not while I was there." He shrugged helplessly, and watched the farmer's frown deepen.

"I don't like this." He said. "We should go check on him."

"What, now?!" Filbo rushed after Wambus as he headed for the door. "But half of us are drunk!"

Wambus paused, then changed direction to where Triffany was talking with Floofty. "Triffy. I need ya to drive me to, ah, to Buddy's house. He's not answering his phone, and he was supposed to be here." He told her.

Oh dear." Triffany put down her glass of water, worry already creasing her features. "Of course I'll drive ya, Wamby. Gotta make sure he's okay, after all."

"I will accompany you." Floofty spoke up, setting their own glass of water down.

"Oh, you don't have to do that, Floofty." Filbo told them. "You can stay and enjoy the party."

"Nonsense. You have been drinking as much as anyone else. You need someone to drive you." They reached over and plucked Filbo's keys from his paw. "And besides, our friend may require medical assistance, and I am the most qualified to give it. It's the least I could do for all the help he's given me."

"Oh, uh, okay then." Filbo followed them out and to their car, watching as Wambus and Trffany got in Wambus' truck. He had to give them directions, as Floofty had never been to Buddy's apartment before. But, they did exactly as he told them, and Triffany followed close behind.

They made it there quickly, and parked in front of the old brick building. Filbo climbed out of Floofty's car as soon as they got it parked, and bypassed the intercom system to head straight for the stairs instead. A few seconds later, he heard the others following behind him.

He stopped at the door to Buddy's apartment, and knocked quickly. "Hey, Buddy? You in there?" No answer, and as Filbo went to knock again Wambus elbowed in front of him and banged on the door instead.

"Open up!" He growled out, and Triffany and Filbo rushed to make him stop.

"Wamby! We don't want to scare the poor dear." She scolded.

"O-or wake everyone else up." Filbo looked around, in case anyone tried to come out and yell at them. When he turned back, Floofty was crouched by the door, something in their hands. "Uh, Floofty? What are you doing?"

"Picking the lock, of course." Floofty suppressed a sigh of annoyance. "Whether he's actually in there or not, it's clear he has no intention of answering. Thus, the only way to gain entry is to do it ourselves."

"But isn't that illegal?" Filbo asked. Floofty paused for a second, then chuckled darkly and finished picking the lock. They stood up and to the side, letting Filbo be the one to actually open the door.

Filbo didn't hesitate to enter the apartment, calling quietly as the others followed. "Buddy? Are you in here?"

"Absolutely disgusting." Floofty nudged an empty bottle with their prosthetic. "Was it this bad the last time you were here?"

"Not really." He looked around the room. "I mean, it was kinda messy  a couple of weeks ago, but not this bad."

"Hmm." Floofty approached the Wall of Paper, reading through each article thoroughly.

"Filbo? Ya might wanna come look at this." Filbo went to where Triffany was standing by the door to Buddy's "spare room". The room itself was filled with file boxes, one of which the archeologist had opened. It was filled with more folders full of paper, each one with a large red REJECTED stamped on the front. Triffany was looking through one, and Filbo, against his better judgement, grabbed one up himself.

It was an article, one written by Buddy if the writing was any indication. He closed the folder and looked at the REJECTED stamp again, before turning back to the stacks and stacks of boxes in the room. Some of them were regular cardboard boxes labeled with things like KITCHEN or PHOTOS. But the vast majority, Filbo was sure, held more rejected articles.

"Looks like our journalist has been busy." Triffany observed quietly. "Maybe too busy. Has he ever mentioned any other friends?"

"I... no. Not to me, anyways." Filbo admitted. He stared at the folder in his hands as he  stood up. "We gotta find Buddy."

"Found him!" Wambus called from the bathroom. The two hurried that way, to find Buddy passed out in the bath tub, Wambus standing over him and reading a bottle. "Looks like he drunk himself into a stupor."

"My respect for him has lowered considerably." Floofty commented dryly as they approached to check his vitals. "At least he didn't try to drive anywhere, or I would have killed him myself."

"Floofty, please." Triffany scolded. "Now is not the time."

"Hmph." They stood up, drying their now damp hands on a nearby towel. "Well, he's still alive, at least. But it would be highly dangerous for him to remain here alone."

"I could stay here with him." Filbo volunteered, and Wambus snorted.

"Not gonna happen." He said, leaning down and grabbing Buddy, hefting him up over his shoulder in a firegrump carry. "We'll bring him back with us."

"Wamby, no. That's kidnapping." Triffany chased her husband down as he power-walked out of the apartment. Floofty and Filbo exchanged a look, then quickly followed them out, the scientist grabbing the keys from the small dish by the door as they passed.

The way back seemed to take less time, though that might've been the alcohol finally taking hold. Filbo tried to focus on what he could see of Triffany and Wambus in the truck in front of them, watching as they apparently argued.

As they pulled up, Filbo noticed that most of the cars were gone. 'Oh. I guess the others left when we did.' He felt a little guilty about that, but it had been quite late already. 'I hope they all got home okay.'

Him and Floofty watched as Wambus climbed out of the truck, the grabbed Buddy and carried him into the house. Triffany followed, wringing her paws together worriedly. Beside him, Floofty sighed.

"I'd better go collect my brother and his partner." They said and left the car. Filbo followed and they went inside, where Triffany was checking up on Chandlo and Snorpy, who were laying on the couch. They approached, but when they got close their face twisted into an expression of disgust.

"Really, Snorpington?" They muttered, but settled onto the floor near the couch anyways. Filbo took the chance to go to where he knew the guest room was, where Wambus had set Buddy onto the bed.

"... Do you think he'll be okay?" The smaller Grumpus asked, watching from the doorway. Wambus just shook his head, turning to leave the room.

"No clue, Filbo. But I think it's time for everybody to get some sleep." He said gruffly. "We've got another couch, if ya need it."

"Oh. Thanks Wambus." He was feeling pretty tired, as it had been a pretty eventful day. And, with what they'd found, he didn't really want to leave Buddy alone. He followed Wambus to the second couch, and settled in for the night.

--------------

"Ngh." Buddy threw an arm over his eyes as light streamed in through the window. 'Wait, the bathroom doesn't have any windows! Or a bed!' He sat up quickly, then fell back against the pillows as his head throbbed and his eyes burned. 'Mistake! That was a mistake! Ow!' Carefully, he rolled away from the light and slowly opened his eyes, looking around. 'Yeah, no. This isn't my bedroom. I don't know where this is.' He huffed a quiet laugh that made his face hurt. 'Snorpy was right, there is a Grumpinatti.'

As the ex journalist considered whether he was up to fight hordes of possible cultists, the door creaked open, then shut again as someone entered the room. They stopped by the bed, and Buddy managed to turn his head back enough to see Wambus standing there, a mug of something steaming in his paws.

"... How the grump did you get in my house?" Was all he said. Wambus gave a low chuckle, setting the mug down on the bedside table.

"Filbo showed me." The farmer told him. "Drink that when you can. It'll help with the hangover." There was thud from another room, followed by begging and then yelling, thought both were indistinct. "... I gotta go separate those two again. Triffy'll be by to check up on ya soon."

Time passed. Buddy wasn't sure how much, as there wasn't a clock and he didn't have his watch, but he did eventually manage to sit up and drink the... drink that Wambus had brought him. It was absolutely disgusting, so he didn't drink much of it, even if it did help his headache. But eventually, Triffany did come in with some food.

"Hey there." She said, quietly but cheerfully, holding up the plate. " I brought ya some breakfast. "

"Oh, uh. Thanks?" He accepted the plate, but she didn't leave. "Um, why am I... here?"

"Oh, Filbo got worried when you didn't show up at the party last night. And then him and Wamby got even more worried when you wouldn't answer your phone."

"Uh, yeah. I kinda... stopped paying the bill on that." He told her sheepishly. "I wasn't sure I'd be able to afford it without a job, y'know?"

That was a lie, of course. He'd actually taken the receiver off the hook so none of them could call him. But he wasn't going to tell her that, not when she looked so worried about him already.

"Oh honey. That's terrible." She told him, but he just shrugged in response, feeling guilty.

"I mean, it's not the first time. I get paid for the articles that go out, so if that doesn't happen..." He sighed. At least that part was true. "I just hope Beffica has an easier time of it than I've had."

"I'm sure she'll be just fine, dear." Triffany told him. "Say, if you're feeling up to it, why don't you come eat at the table? Filbo and Wambus should be back soon, and they'll be happy to see ya up and about."

"Sure. Why not." Buddy sighed, and followed her to the dining room. He looked out the windows as they passed, but couldn't see his car. 'I guess they went to go it. I hope they went to go get it.'

Buddy stayed mostly quiet while him and Triffany ate breakfast, though a look at the clock showed it was actually closer to lunchtime. Ah well, wasn't the first time he'd woken up late with a hangover. When he did talk, he kept it away from his personal issues, keeping it on more lighthearted topics instead.

Finally, though, Wambus and Filbo showed back up, with the smaller Grumpus driving Buddy's tiny red car. 'Finally!' He thought as he watched them climb out and head for the house. 'Now I can get out of their lives.'

The two at the table stood as the others came in, Buddy just barely restraining himself from snatching his keys out of Filbo's paw. "Did ya boy get everything done.?" Triffany asked.

"Yep." Wambus adjusted his hat. "Threw out all those bottles."

"What?" Buddy deadpanned, then took a deep breath. "You, uh, you only threw the empty ones out, right?"

"Nope." He answered bluntly, and Buddy felt a brief, burning rage before it dissolved into depressed acceptance.

"Fine. Okay." He sighed and turned to grab his keys from Filbo, who held them back. "... Give me my keys, Filbo."

"I think we need to talk, Buddy." He said instead, and Buddy gave an angry huff before just snatching them and stalking out of the house. Triffany and Wambus exchanged a look, while Filbo ran after him.

"Buddy, wait!" He grabbed his arm before the orange Grumpus could reach his car.

"What, Filbo?!" He snapped, turning and yanking his arm away. "What do you want now? Cause what I want is to go home, and try and find a paper that will take me! If Clumby hasn't blacklisted me, of course."

"I..." What to say in this situation? Buddy had never looked so angry before, and Filbo wasn't sure what to do. He swallowed thickly. "That doesn't sound like too big of a problem-"

"Oh no, that's not my problem." Buddy said with false cheer. "My problem is that no matter what I do, I get thrown out like a piece of trash!!" He had started shouting, and wasn't sure when. Filbo looked taken aback, having drawn away when the yelling started. "So now, I'm gonna leave before I get thrown out! Again!" He yanked his car door open and got inside, slamming it shut. Unfortunately, when he tried to start the engine, nothing happened.

"Piece. Of. Shit." He groaned before letting his head fall to the steering wheel. A second later there was a knock on the window, and he turned just enough to see Filbo staring worriedly at him through the glass. Buddy ignored him, so he walked around the front of the car and got in the passenger seat. Buddy cursed his broken door locks.

"Get out of my car, Filbo." He growled, not lifting his head up.

"No. Not until you tell me what you're talking about!" The strength in his tone surprise the orange Grumpus. "... What makes you so sure we're gonna "throw you out"?"

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Buddy sighed and leaned back, pressing his paws into his eyes. "Why wouldn't you throw me out. Everyone else I've ever met has."

"That can't be true!" Filbo protested.

"Really? Then tell that to my parents. And childhood "friends". And every single job I've ever worked." He sighed and glared out the windshield. "I'm a terrible Grumpus, Filbo. Everything I try to do, I screw it up somehow. Even when I do something right, I end up doing it... wrong. And if it doesn't go wrong, then it ends not mattering either way."

"That's not true!" Filbo insisted. "You helped everyone in Snaxburg-"

"And fed them all parasites! I fed you all so many you started to turn into them!" He smacked the wheel, frustrated. "If we didn't find Liz when we did, none of us would be here right now!"

"Hey, hey, it's okay. We all- Most of us made it out okay. The Snax wore off, and we're all fine." He tried to give a reassuring smile, but Buddy just turned away. "Nobody blames you for that. Heck, I don't think they even blame Liz. So, it's fine. Right?"

"No Filbo, it's NOT fine." He tried one more time to start the car, and was rewarded by the engine finally sputtering to life. "Now, get out of my car. I have job applications to fill."

Instead, he heard the click of a seat-belt locking into place. He looked over to see Filbo had instead buckled himself up, and was staring at Buddy with his arms crossed.

"Oh. My. Grump." He deadpanned. "Just get out."

"Nope! If you leave, I'm leaving with you." He gave Buddy a hard look. "I am not letting you go and drink yourself back into a stupor."

He barked out a short, humorless laugh. "Beffica was right, you really are a squeeb."

"Hey, she said I was the good kind of squeeb!" The tone was light, and kept Buddy from feeling too bad about it. A not uncomfortable silence descended on the two, as Buddy messed with the switches on his dashboard. "... Did you ever think about coming out here?" Filbo finally asked.

"I mean, I could. I don't really know what I'd do, but I could."

"I'm sure we could find some sort of job for you. If nothing else, you could, uh, be Floofty's assistant?" Filbo scratched his head. "Or I could give you a job in office. At least until the next election."

"Sure, why not." He snorted. "What could go wrong with putting me in leadership position."

"... You could be a file clerk or something?" He suggested, and Buddy gave a real laugh this time.

"We'll see." He told him. "Now, get out of my car, for real. I gotta go home, take a shower." He sighed. "Buy groceries."

"Oh, uh. Yeah." Filbo let himself out of the car, but didn't close the door. "Just, uh, don't do the whole drinking thing again, okay? You made everyone really worried."

A pause, and then Buddy gave a reassuring smile. "Sure, I think I can manage that."

[buckmecaptain]

With Two Os

So, I did a thing for @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ ‘s #JOOF500Challenge , and I miiiiight have gone a little overboard with the prompts.  Maybe.  Kinda.�� Sorta...uhh... I did them all.  (I tried to make sure I bolded them all in this post)

This is silly fluff -falls just short of a crack fic- Steve X (barely described) OC (she has a name and nickname, but that’s about it), with a hint of her having a bit of a thing for Bucky, and even Thor (mentioned).  Semi-oblivious Steve, Natasha as the voice of reason, overdramatic OC who might just be kind of a dumbass.  Pining, mentions of the rest of the team.  Obviously, this story ignores canon and everyone is happily living in the tower. :) Warnings:  A few naughty words, suggestive situations, so much dumbassery

Image is from knowyourmeme.com

-   ---  --   -  ---  -- -   ---  -- ---

 She pushed her long messy braid over her shoulder, then looked down at the table and sniffled, slowly stroking her fingertips over the glossy surface.  “So it's over, then.  We're finished.”

“Roxy,” Steve began, reaching for her, “I'm sorry, I-”

She flinched away from his touch.  “No. You're gonna have to give me some time.  This relationship... it isn't what I thought it was going to be.”  She wiped her hand over her face and sighed heavily.

“I said I was- wait, what?  It isn't?”  His eyebrows were knit tightly together, raised comically high,  shoulders hunched like he was trying to make himself smaller.

Turning to face the Captain, her lower lip trembled and eyes were wide.  “It was meant to be us.  Me and you, Roxanne and Steve, until death do us part.  And now you've destroyed that.”

“Seriously?”

She gasped and flung herself backwards onto the overstuffed sofa, one arm thrown across her eyes.  “Yes, seriously.  You left an undefended gap and the Empire blew up our base!” she whined, gesturing toward the tabletop game with her free hand.

Across the way, Wanda turned to Sam and asked, “If she's this dramatic when she loses a game, what happens when she wins?”

The Falcon chuckled.  “Well, let's just say she puts on a show.  Dancing tends to happen.”

Steve shook his head at Roxanne's antics.  “Well, that's enough Star Wars: Rebellion for tonight. What's next?”  He clapped his hands together and they began placing the game pieces back into the box.

“Are Thor and Bucky here?  If so, I volunteer for naked Twister,” Roxanne offered.

The Captain whipped his head around and gave her the Eyebrows of Disappointment.

She peeked at him from under her arm. “Hey, a girl can dream, right?”

“Let me guess.  It's game night and Roxanne's team lost, right?”

“ 'Tashaaaaa!”  Roxanne made grabby hands at the redhead.  “So glad you're home!  It's been forever and I miss waking up next to you every morning.”

Sam, Wanda, and Steve all did sitcom-worthy double-takes as Natasha snorted.

“Well, if you would set your damn alarm at night, I wouldn't have to come drag your ass out of bed in the mornings for training.”  She looked around at the other three people in the room.  “What?  She's like a sloth.  Or maybe a koala. Whatever, she sleeps incredibly soundly and clings, even when dragged out of bed by the ankles.”

Roxanne sat up and crossed her arms, pouting.  “So?  I need my rest.  It takes a minimum of eight hours of sleep for me to look this good.”

Natasha turned to Steve and smirked. “You guys lost pretty badly, huh?  Little Miss Queen-of-the-sore-losers is in a snit.”

Roxanne grumbled and dug out her phone from the couch cushions.  “Fine.  I'mma text Bucky.  He'll sympathize.  Or, wait... Nat, do you have Thor's number?”

Steve's hands clenched into fists at his side and he grit his teeth.  Natasha noticed, of course, but didn't react.  “He doesn't have a phone, Rox.”

“Really?” she sat up, wide-eyed, “Who doesn't have a phone these days?” she glanced back down at her screen.  “Aw, man.  They're canceling my favorite zombie drama. That's stupid with two Os,” she muttered as she ambled out of the room.

Natasha watched her leave, then whirled to face the fuming Captain.  “Really?  You're still pining over her?  When are you going to nut up and say something?” she prodded, glancing at his white-knuckled fists.

A muscle in his jaw twitched.  “It's pretty obvious she prefers Buck.  Or Thor.  Or both, you heard her,” he shrugged and looked toward the doorway, then sighed.  “I'm not going to chase after a rejection.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Methinks you might be stupid with two Os.  That woman has had the hots for you since she joined the team, and she's pretty much made a fool of herself for you for the last year.”

He groaned and dragged a hand over his face.   “Why is dealing with women so difficult?  It's just-just impossible,” he complained.

“Steve, you deal with aliens, terrorists, and murderous lunatics on a near-daily basis.  After all that, you still think women are difficult?”

He sighed and placed his hands on his hips.  “Bad guys can be dispatched, arrested, or otherwise stopped. Dealing with women takes finesse, and I don't have any of that. Or experience.  Give me a murderous lunatic any day of the week. I'd much prefer that.  The serum doesn't help with this one,” he grimaced.

Natasha's eyebrows raised.  “Okay, Captain Wuss,” she teased.

“That's the first time I've been called that,” he mumbled, “at least, to my face.”  The only reply was the Black Widow's signature smirk, so he hung his head and huffed.  “Sure feels like I'm being ganged up on around here.” He went in search of the rest of the team in an effort to continue game night, following the sound of cheering and whooping to the media room.

Apparently a high-stakes game of Mario Kart was the cause of the cacaphony.  The team was gathered on the plush seating, with Wanda, Sam, Clint, and Bucky playing while Vision and Roxanne watched and cheered them on.  

Steve squinted when he saw Roxanne was seated on the back of the couch behind Bucky.  He was wedged between her legs and she was running her fingers through his hair, detangling it as she encouraged him to “Kick their asses, Buckaroo!”

Disappointed, Steve frowned and turned to leave, almost crashing into Natasha in the process.

She glared up at him, silently stamped her foot, and pointed forcefully at Roxanne.

Steve shook his head and gestured with his thumb over his shoulder, then crossed his arms over his chest.

Natasha squinted.

He shook his head again.

She raised a finger and circled it in the air, then pointed again at Roxanne.

Steve shook his head again.

Natasha placed both hands on his chest and shoved, making him stagger back a step, then jutted her chin toward Roxanne.

He rolled his eyes, but the redhead poked his chest so hard, he coughed.   While he was distracted she took him by the shoulders and spun him around, then shoved.  He stumbled forward a couple of steps, then glared at her over his shoulder.

Natasha placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot.

“Oh what the hell?” he thought, and marched over to Roxanne, standing directly behind her.  She didn't notice because of the game noise, so he leaned down to her ear and loudly asked, “How's it going?”

In the blink of an eye, Steve found himself flat on his back with Roxanne on top of him holding a wickedly-sharp blade to his throat, wide-eyed and panting.

“Sorry!  I didn't mean to scare- Put the knife down.  Please,” he pleaded.  “Roxy?”

Roxanne tossed the knife aside and scrambled off of him, then ran out the door.

Steve lay there splayed out like a starfish, staring at the ceiling and wondering why fuckery kept finding its way to him, as his team mates gathered around.  They peered down at him curiously, barely-concealed amusement on each face.

“Hey Steve, you dead?”  Bucky asked, his lips twitching in an effort to keep laughter at bay.

Clint snickered.  “Dead from embarrassment, maybe.  Rox is crazy fast!”

Groaning, Steve pressed his palms into his eyes.  “You should go talk to her, Buck.”

“Huh?  Why me?”

Sitting up, the Captain eyeballed his best friend and snorted.  “Obvious reasons.”

Bucky blinked, then looked from Steve to Natasha.  “The fuck is he talkin' about?”

She shrugged.  “He thinks Rox has a thing for you.”

“Oh.  Oh!  Really?” Bucky hummed. “I should go talk to her.”  

Steve made a strangled moan as Bucky headed out the door, then stood and straightened his clothing.  “See you guys later,” he grunted and left the room as his team mates watched, helpless and confused.

*  *  *  *

Roxanne was seated at a window and brooding when she heard the tentative knocks at her door.  Ignoring the first few was easy, but it became more difficult when the knocks turned to loud booms. Grumbling, she made her way across the floor. “Okay, gimme a second.”  She yanked open the door to find Bucky on the other side.  “Oh, hey.  Come in.”   She went back to her window seat while he stood there shifting from one foot to the other. “Close the door, and sit down.”

He complied and took a seat on the overstuffed armchair.  “Everything okay, doll?  You kinda took off in a hurry earlier.”

She didn't bother to look at him, her gaze still fixed outside and fingertips trailing over the weave of the curtains.  “I pulled a knife on Steve, Buck.  Steve!”

“Yeah.  It's not the first time that's happened to him.  Won't be the last.”

“First for me.  He's my Captain.  My friend.  My very dear friend!” she insisted, “You don't hold a knife to your friend's throat!”

Bucky smirked and scoffed.  “I've done that.  And shot him.  Stabbed him, beat the hell out of him... and he's been my closest friend for eighty years.”

Roxanne pinched the bridge of her nose and grimaced.  “That is an entirely different situation...uh, entirely, and you know it.  He's never gonna forgive me for this, and even if he does, I won't forgive me.”  She slammed her fists down on the wooden window sill with bruising force, a resounding crack echoing through the room.

 Bucky was across the floor in an instant, taking her trembling wrists in his hands. “Doll, you're scaring me.  Please, just, calm down.”  They stayed like that until Roxanne's breathing slowed and the shaking stopped.    Finally he released her wrists and wrapped his arms around her as she leaned against his chest, swaying them back and forth.

“Ohh, I feel better already.  You're really warm.” She snuffled at his shirt.  “And you smell good,” she complimented, resting her hands on his sides.

He flinched.  “Thanks.”

Roxanne curled her fingers and he flinched again.  “Oh, Bucky... you're so...” she curled her fingers again, “Ticklish!”  She attacked his sides in earnest as he tried to fend her off carefully.

“Doll,” he squirmed, trying to back away from her, “Woman!  You'd better stop,” he warned.

She narrowed her eyes and smirked.  “Or what, Buckaroo?”  Snaking a hand into each of his armpits, she unleashed tickle hell.  “No mercy!”

Bucky bit his lower lip, trying to stifle his laughter.  “Okay, girly,” he snorted, “You've messed with the wrong person.”  He twisted away from her and crouched.

Roxanne backed up and her eyes went wide.  “Oh shit.  I've triggered the Big Bad Wolf!”  She giggled crazily and sprinted across the room, vaulting over the couch.

The chase was on.  Roxanne had the advantage of knowing the living space like the back of her hand, but Bucky was the superior tactician, so she she managed to keep out of his reach by the skin of her teeth.  He finally cornered her in the bedroom, where she'd ended up standing on the far side of her bed, plastered against the wall.

“I've got you!” he laughed, and leaped onto the bed with a victory shout, planting both feet in front of her.

Roxanne squealed and Bucky's fingers contacted her ribs, then they heard a small cracking sound.  “Uh oh,” she whispered as the bed tilted precariously and slammed to the floor.  They both lie there in a heap for a moment before disentangling from one another and jumping apart, Roxanne at the foot of the bed, Bucky at the up-tilted side.  They looked from the crazily leaning mattress to each other and back again, then burst into laughter.

“Not exactly the way I pictured us breaking my bed,” Roxanne quipped, waggling her eyebrows as she pulled the bed away from the wall and surveyed the damage.

Bucky's face flushed deep red and dared to glance at her.  “So, uh...” he trailed off.

“Hm?  I think I have something I can use to prop this up until tomorrow,” she murmured distractedly from the low side of the mattress.  “No big deal.  I was ready for something new anyway.”  The mattress shifted hard and she looked up to see Bucky was perched on the high side.  She held up a hand, forbidding him to continue.  “Sir, that slide is for children only.”

Bucky snorted and slid across the surface anyway, landing neatly beside her.  “Lemme see.”  He raised the mattress and box spring with one hand and peered at the broken side rail, then grimaced.  “Yep, snapped right in half. I'll hold this up while you get the blocks or whatever,” he offered.

When it was all put right, Roxanne hugged Bucky, thanking him for helping.  If they held on a little longer than friends do, neither mentioned it.  “Wanna watch a movie?” she offered, breaking the sudden tension, “You can choose.”

He agreed and she hustled off to take a quick shower while he searched through the titles for the new horror flick she'd been excited to see for a while.

When she returned she shimmied under the covers next to him and sighed happily.  “You found it!  Been waiting for this one.”

“Uh huh.  You're gonna fall asleep, you know.”

“No way.  I've been looking forward to this movie for months!”

“Right, sure.  Wanna bet on that?”

She growled playfully at him.  “All I want to do right now is cuddle with you in bed... is that too much to ask?”

Bucky waggled his eyebrows at her. “That's all?  You sure, doll?”

“Well,” she turned to him and trailed her fingers over his chest. “I also want you to take off your pants.”

He blinked.

“You gonna?”

He blinked again.

“Earth to Bucky.”

“Uh, sure, okay.”  He pulled off his sweatpants and tossed them carelessly to the floor.

“See?  Isn't that more comfortable? Oh,” she squinted at him, “You are wearing underpants, right?”

He blushed furiously.  “Roxy!  Of course I am!”

“Okay, geez.  Those sweats are pilly and scratchy.  Ugh, how can you wear those?  Get comfy and let's watch this flick.”I've been looking forward to this movie for months!”

They joked and snarked at the movie as it played – it really was written poorly – and generally laughed so much, they missed half of the dialogue.

“Are you kidding me?” Bucky snorted as the main characters made yet another idiotic mistake in the haunted estate.  “This would never happen if it was you and me in their place, doll.”

Roxanne nodded.  “Right? I'd freakin' lose it, I'd be all up in your face like, 'How could you lose our children in our own house?'  Bah!”

They made it through to the end and put on a dumb comedy afterward, but they were both fading fast.  Yawning widely, Roxanne squeezed the arm Bucky had wrapped around her waist.  “Thanks for helping me feel better, Buckaroo.  You're awesome.”

“I sure am,” he chuckled. “Anytime, Roxy-girl.”

They nodded off halfway or so through the movie, warm and comfortable in the temporarily-repaired bed. Bucky awoke somewhere around two o'clock and eased his way out of her quarters, still in his t-shirt and boxers, sweatpants in his hand.  As he quietly closed the door and made his way to his room, he failed to notice he was being observed by his best friend.

Steve stood at the corner, watching Bucky leave his girl's room, sadness and jealousy bubbling in his gut.  He scoffed at himself for calling Roxanne “his” in his own head and spun around to hit the gym again... only to come face-to-face with Natasha.

“Seems like I'm always catching you running away from Rox,” she quipped, and folded her arms across her chest.

He sighed.  “Not running away. Leaving.  She's already had, uh, company.”

“Who, Barnes?” she snorted, “I have it on good authority that she didn't bang him.”

The Captain raised a brow.  “Oh yeah? How's that, spycams in her bedroom?”

“Careful, Rogers,” she warned. “Because you're hurting, I'll let that one slide.  Here.”  She tapped at her phone a few times and handed it over, open to a messaging app.

Rox:  Natty!  I need HELLLLLLLP! Please!!!

-What's the matter?  Who do I have to murder?

Rox:  NAT

-No, really.  I will.

Rox:  Nothing like that.  I freaked out after almost stabbing Steve and Bucky came to check on me and long story short I asked him to snuggle in bed with me.   Did I fuck up????????

-…

Rox:  Hurry Natty!  Need answers I'm in the bathroom and need to leave!

-There's nothing wrong with you SNUGGLING with Bucky.  

Rox:  that's all we're gonna do I swear.  He's super hot but we're not there yet ya know???

Rox: gotta go thnx I love you!!!!

Steve read and re-read the manic message exchange a few times, letting it sink in.  He gave Natasha her phone back and dragged a hand over his face.  “Dammit.”

“Uh huh.”

He stood straighter, hands on hips, and cocked his head at her.  “That still doesn't mean they didn't... fondue.   Going by the timestamp on the messages, they had plenty of time for that.”

Natasha huffed and slapped him hard on the arm.  “If Rox had been planning on doing Barnes, she would have asked for wildly different advice.”

With a look, he urged her to continue.

“Oh dear God, you just might be stupid with two Os.  She's asked me for sex advice before, obviously.”

Steve frowned.  “I don't need to hear this.”

“Actually, I think you do.  Remember when you watched 'The Wizard of Oz' with her in your room and she took an oddly long time to bring the popcorn?”

His jaw dropped.

“She asked me how it was possible for you to be such an adorable puppy and so smokin' hot at the same time.”

His face went scarlet.  “She asked you that?”

“Yep,” she nodded.  “Compared you to a giant yellow labrador retriever puppy.  She was hopeful, but it didn't happen.  I mean, obviously.”

“I have-  I need to-  I've gotta go. Thanks, Natasha.” He stepped around her and jogged toward the elevator.

She watched him go, shaking her head and muttering, “All the men in this tower share the same brain cell, I swear.”

Roxanne was dreaming peacefully, quietly snoring into her pillow and curled up burrito-style in her blankets, when she was rudely jolted awake by a loud thumping. Snorting in a completely unladylike manner, she forced herself out of bed and across the floor.  

She slumped against the wall and snarled, “It's four in the morning, what do you want?”

Shuffling sounds came from the other side of the door.  “It's, uh, it's me.  Steve.  May I come in?”

“Oh.  Yeah- yes, please.”   She swung the door open wide to allow him inside.

“Are you okay?  You were so upset when you left, and I- I thought you might still be... sad?”

“Really?”

He nodded quickly.  “Yeah, so I thought I'd bring something to cheer you up.”  He produced a plush yellow Labrador puppy from behind his back and thrust it toward her.

Blinking, she gently took the stuffed toy.  “So you thought I was sad, because of...earlier.”

“Yes.”

“And you really thought buying me a puppy was going to cure my sadness?”

His expression mirrored the stuffed pup's exactly and she smiled fondly at him.

“Well... you were right.   Thank you!”  She tucked the gift under one arm and hugged Steve with the other before gasping and jumping away from him.  “I'm sorry!”

“Wait, what?  Why are you apologizing?”

Eyes glassy with tears that were about to spill over, she blurted, “You must hate me!  I put a knife to your throat, Steve.  That's not something you just brush off.  We're- we're f-friends.  Close.  You're my Captain!”  there was no stopping the word vomit now, as mortified as she was.  Might as well rip off the Band-aid.  “And you're amazing and smokin' hot and I've had the biggest damn crush on you for so long and all I want to do is kiss your stupidly handsome face, and...  Oh no,” she whined and covered her face with both hands.  “On a scale from one to ten how much do you want to punch me right now?”  She asked quietly, peeking at him between her fingers.

Concerned, Steve placed his hands on her shoulders and gently squeezed.  “Sweetheart, slow down.  Just breathe for me, okay?” he soothed.  “First of all... No, I don't hate you.  We're not there just yet.  You'd have to do a hell of a lot worse than pouncing on me with a knife to make me hate you,” he grinned at her.

Roxanne winced.  “I- I don't-”

“Are you saying you're plotting my demise as we speak, doll?”

“Steve!  I would never, and you know it,” she denied.

He laughed heartily at her distress. “Okay, okay, sorry.  Just giving you a little grief.  I'll let you get back to sleep.”  He turned to the door.

“Yeah, like I'm gonna be able to knock out again after all of this.”

Steve sighed.  “Want me to go get Buck for you?  Maybe he can help.”

Roxanne rolled her eyes and tossed the stuffed dog onto the sofa.  “Steve Rogers, you big, gorgeous idiot!”

He blinked.  “Um.  I'll take that as a compliment...I guess.”

She flung herself at him and wrapped her arms around his neck.  “I've been mooning over you for a year now and- and I didn't know how to- didn't think I should say anything.  It's not my place and...”

He held her close and smiled.  “I've done my share of pining, too, sweetheart.”

“I have an idea,” she said, then leaned forward and pressed her lips to his for a short and sweet kiss.  “Wanna go stargazing and cuddle under the moonlight?  What's left of it, that is,” she suggested.

“On one condition.  Call me your ‘Captain’ again.”

Trailing her fingertips over his chest, she fluttered her eyelashes and in a breathy voice, asked, “Would my Captain like to go up on the rooftop with me?”

Steve’s chest rumbled and his eyes darkened.  “Yes ma’am, I’d like that very much.”

Later, bundled up together on one of the rooftop chaise lounges, Steve and Roxanne weren't doing much stargazing.  Caught up in the closeness, the newness, instead they spent the pre-dawn time making out and murmuring sweet nothings, as lovers do, until Steve's phone alarm sounding at half-past six pulled them from their serotonin haze, and they both groaned in irritation.

“We probably should have gotten some sleep, sweetheart.”

“I was sleeping soundly until somebody pounded on my door,” she teased, and poked his chin.

“Uh huh.  Was it worth it?”

“I dunno... I was really comfortable, and I need my beauty sleep or I wake up looking like sea hag.”

He tutted and kissed her forehead. “Aw, I'm sorry, doll.  How can I make it up to you?”

Tapping her lips with her fingers, she pretended to consider his words.  “How about... another cuddle session?  Longer this time and with more kissing.”

“I think I can manage that,” he grinned.

“Oh, and bring Bucky.”

He gasped and tickled her mercilessly.

“Okay, okay!  Enough!”  She kissed him soundly, then they untangled from the blankets and headed for the door, hand in hand.

Steve sighed wistfully.  “We wasted so much time, you know.”

“Yeah,  maybe we really are stupid with two Os,” she teased, nudging him with an elbow.

He chuckled and opened the door for her.  “Maybe so, darlin'.  Maybe so.”

She passed him and sauntered toward the residential area, calling back over her shoulder, “About bringing Bucky along, though-”

Thundering footfalls sounded behind her as she squealed and ran for her life, giggling madly all the way.

[cadence-talle]

Rain Against A Window (Chapter Four)

Pairing: Fitz Vacker/Dex Dizznee, Eventual Biana Vacker/Sophie Foster

Wordcount: 1,955

Summary: In which Juline Dizznee finds a child, our scam team gets closer to Paris, and the city of Petersburg lights up. 

Other notes: This chapter was so much fun to write! I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. 

Taglist: @everyonehasthoughts, @clearlykeefitz, @loverofallthingssmart, @a-lonely-tatertot, @enbies-and-felonies, @molly-sencen, @lemontarto, @appalyneinstitute1, @ruewen-and-rising, @silver-snow, @linhamon-roll, @hyperlollypop, @never-ever-too-many-fandoms, @keeper-of-the-lost-queers, @impostertamsong, @vibing-in-the-void, @yeetersofthelostcities, @mistythegirlfluxmess

Read it on ao3 or under the cut! 

St Petersburg, Russia. October 13, 1917. 

Juline stumbles out of the collapsing stables, letting go of the horse she’s holding. It gallops off through the streets and she groans; it’s never going to come back.

Not that it matters, really. No one’s going to have any need for horses now. 

She’s not sure how long it’s been since the first gunshots were fired. Six or seven hours, probably. Juline is just lucky she wasn’t caught in the crossfire and had enough time to get all the horses out. 

A small wail echoes across the crumbling land, and Juline’s head snaps up. She knows that sound; she’s been listening to a kid cry for going on five years now. 

Sure enough, there’s a girl sitting in the rubble, knees curled up to her chest and cheeks wet with tears. She looks about four or five; just a bit younger than Dex, if Juline is right. Her heart twists and she holds out a hand to the child. 

“Hey,” Juline says softly. “What happened to you?”

“I- I don’t know,” the girl says, teal eyes filling with tears again. Juline looks her over and something heavy drops in her gut- this is most definitely Princess Bianca. “I hit my head, and I feel sick, but I don’t know why.” She looks up at Juline. “Why?”

“There was an accident,” Juline says, taking the girl’s tiny hand in hers. “You must have gotten hurt.”

“Oh. Are you my mom?”

Juline blinks. Then blinks again. She’s almost positive that Queen Della is dead; there’s no one still alive to take care of this girl. 

Exhaling, she makes a decision. 

“No, sweetie. But I’m gonna take care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” the girl says. “That sounds good.”

And so the Dizznees gain another child- Biana, she’s called. Juline worries sometimes that it’s too close to Bianca, but it was a name Bi herself chose and Juline isn’t cruel enough to take it away. 

Besides, who would look for the last remaining member of the Vacker family in the poorest parts of St Petersburg? These streets are cesspits, filled with violence and alcohol and…

Sickness. 

Juline isn’t dying, not yet. But she will be. She’s seen what this sickness can do, watched her own husband waste to nothing in front of her. And it’s only a matter of time- there’s no way they can afford the medicine. 

Still, as she sits in her bed and forces herself to open her eyes again, she’s comforted. Because Biana is still out there, still free, still alive. 

And no one can ever know. 

-/-

St Petersburg, Russia. February 27, 1927. 

“And then he just… let me go.” Fitz finishes. “I don’t know why. I was sure I was going to get arrested or something.”

“Huh.” Biana frowns, tapping the arm of her chair. “That’s weird. They’ve been cracking down on a lot of scam teams lately- throwing them in jail or worse. I’m glad you got out, but that’s weird.”

“What should we do?”

Biana shakes her head. “Nothing. Hiding somewhere else would be useless. We’re almost ready to leave. All Dex needs to do is forge our train passes and we’re good.” She turns behind her, to where Dex is furiously scribbling on a yellowed sheet of paper. “Speaking of which, are you heading down to the printer’s today?”

“Yeah.” Dex says, not looking up. Biana raises an eyebrow. 

“Okay then. I’m gonna go to the market, see if there’s any food on sale. Fitz, why don’t you go with Dex?”

“Me? Why would I-” Fitz starts. He’s not sure why he’s so opposed to that idea; Dex hasn’t been so much as rude to him since that very first day. Still, there’s something clenching his gut that makes him want to run. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be alone. Not after yesterday.”

“Right,” Fitz nods. “Of course.”

Dex stands up, folding the letter he was writing into an envelope and putting a stamp in the corner. “Okay, let’s go. I want to mail this on the way there.”

“Have fun!” Biana calls as they step into the late-morning light. 

-/-

Dear Mom, 

How are you? How are the triplets? I hope it’s not too cold out there; I know Rex was trying to learn how to knit, but knowing him, that won’t go well.

Things are all right over here. Bi and I have food, and we think we found a way to make a lot of money. Maybe even enough to finally get you out of debt so we can all live together again. 

Petersburg is… tense, right now. Like everything is holding its breath in anticipation. There’s a rumor that Prince Fitzroy and Princess Bianca survived, so all the officers have been on high alert. We’re okay, though.

And we made a friend! He’s nice- kind of confused, but nice. And he’s super pretty 

(Please pretend I didn’t write that.)

I miss you. The city’s not the same without you here to fill up every small hideaway we get with laughter and music. Bi and I are trying, though. We’ll get through this.

See you soon. 

Love, Dex. 

-/-

“Okay,” Dex says as they exit the printer’s, a stack of paper clutched in one hand. The sky is beginning to darken, rays of pink and orange spreading across like paint on a canvas. Fitz is surprised it took so long; he’d always thought of printing as something fast and easy, but there are all these parts. And the travel passes aren’t even done- Dex still needs to forge the signatures on them. “We should get back. Biana will be-”

He trails off, looking at something over Fitz’s shoulder. Fitz spins around to see three uniformed men moving down the street toward them. He swallows and starts to back away. 

“Hey! You!” One of the men calls. “It’s almost curfew! What are you doing out?”

“Uh.” Fitz says. Dex grabs his arm and pulls him into the alley to the side of the building, hurrying them both up a fire escape. 

“Go, go, go,” he says through gritted teeth once they’re on the roof, running along the shingles with a grace Fitz is positive he can’t replicate. “What are you waiting for? Come on!”

They leap between houses and swing around water towers as the sun sets, lights in windows popping up like stars. Finally, Dex comes to a stop on top of a building on a particularly large hill. 

“I think we lost them,” he says, looking back at Fitz. “What?”

“I’ve never seen it this high up before,” Fitz whispers. From where they stand, the whole city’s spread out underneath them like a glittering map. Each lamp in each home is a shining jewel, calling to him. “It’s beautiful.”

Dex snorts, sitting near the edge of the roof and staring at the lights below. “Trust me, it’s a lot less pretty when you grow up down there.”

“I didn’t say pretty. I said beautiful.”

“Okay, your majesty, what’s the difference, then?”

“Pretty is surface level. It’s looking at someone and thinking ‘oh, they’re attractive.’ Beautiful is… more than that. It’s watching someone live and listening to them talk and seeing all their faults but still loving them. If something’s beautiful, that doesn’t mean it’s perfect- it’s just messed up in a beautiful way.”

“Oh.” Dex is quiet for a moment, the two looking at the city lights. Fitz feels an overwhelming urge to take back his words. 

“I don’t actually know the city very well,” he says. “I’ve lived here for a few years, but it’s mostly just… work, sleep, repeat. Nothing like-” he waves a hand at the scene in front of them- “nothing like this.”

Dex sighs, leaning back on his hands. “Petersburg is this odd mix of amazing and dangerous, and most things here walk that line very closely. So when you grow up on the streets…” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. “It’s hard to make an honest living. And much, much easier to get drawn into things that aren’t exactly sanitary.” 

“That’s why you’re so good at forging stuff,” Fitz responds. “Right? And why Biana is so persuasive. You guys do this a lot.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we do.” Dex sighs. “Our mom never wanted us to be scammers. She used to work in the palace stables, but when the tsar was killed…” he mimes an explosion. “That whole line of business kind of blew up. She and Dad did their best, and we managed to stay afloat for a while, but-” he bites his lip. “When Dad died, Bi and I knew we had to do something. We had more siblings by that point- the triplets, they’re thirteen now. And Mom’s few jobs weren’t enough to keep us fed.”

“So you turned to stealing.”

Dex shrugs, kicking his heel against the brick of the building. “Stealing, scamming, anything that could get us food or money. We ran into trouble a few times, but we managed to slip away. The streets of Petersburg aren’t too bad if you have someone by your side.”

“Oh,” Fitz says. The words I’m sorry seem too small for this, too small for someone who’s been through so much hurt. “I guess I can see why you don’t think the city is beautiful, then.”

“No, actually, I think it is.” Dex turns to face Fitz, eyes fixed on the roof beneath them. “You said that beautiful doesn’t mean perfect, and Petersburg isn’t perfect- it’s dirty and messy and terrifying. But I’ve lived here my whole life, and I’m willing to take the bad for the good that I’ve gotten. The city gave me Biana, and I wouldn’t trade her for the world.” 

He looks up, straight into Fitz’s eyes. “And that’s love, isn’t it? Seeing all the cracks and loving it anyway. Understanding it anyway.”

Something about the way he’s talking makes it clear that he doesn’t just mean Petersburg. But Fitz doesn’t have time to think about that right now. 

“Yeah. That’s love.”

More lights appear in windows below them, glittering into existence. It’s a sign of life, of the people who hide in the shadows and laugh with their families. A sign of home. 

Unconsciously, Fitz pulls the music box out of his coat pocket. 

“What’s that?” Dex asks. Fitz hands it to him, and Dex wrinkles his nose. “Is this a Vacker relic? Where did you-” he fiddles with something inside, some piece of machinery, and music starts to play. “Whoa.”

Tinkling music drifts over the rooftop, a memory tugging in the back of Fitz’s mind; he should know this. He should know this. 

He does know this. 

Slowly, quietly, he starts to hum along as a scene takes shape in his mind. 

A smiling red-haired woman leaning over him, a tiny girl by his side. The very same music box in his lap, emitting a soft tune that Fitz knows by heart. 

“Once upon a December,” he sings quietly as the song ends. Dex gapes at him wordlessly, closing the music box with a silent click. 

“Fitz, what-”

Fitz meets his eyes. “We need to get to Paris.” 

-/-

Dear Mom,

I’m sorry the letter’s short today- I don’t have much time to write. 

We’re leaving the city soon, heading away. I won’t say where, for your safety and ours, but rest assured we’ll be as safe as possible. 

If all goes well, I’ll be home soon. We’ll all be together. 

I love you. 

Dex. 

P.S. I said, in my last letter, that my friend was pretty. That’s not true- or, it is, but he’s more than that. He’s beautiful.

[1-800-channie]

[10:30AM] with Chan;

Note: For my love, as promised, @backhugsforhyunjin ♥ I hope this is what you were asking for.

Warning: Very angst

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　 *･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　　

If there was a time when Chan treated you like a queen, it was during your pregnancy days.

The sweet boy would send you a text in every chance he could, asking if you were alright or if the baby was quiet and letting you rest.

He would go shopping with you. Helping you choose the cutest outfits for your changing body.

You loved to wake up with him kissing your growing belly, or talking to your baby like the great father he is, completely lost in enjoyment.

Chan loved you more than anything. He knew, from the moment that your eyes locked for the first time, that you would be his wife and mother of his children.

Your wedding was simple and small, just his dear bandmates, his family and yours as well.

The blonde boy always believed that you couldn't become more gorgeous, but when his eyes witnessed your pregnant body, he changed his mind.

But, everything seemed to go down as soon as your baby, Mina, was born. Chan became completely in love with his girl and all of his attention turned to her.

She turned five months when the Stray Kids comeback was scheduled, and it got worst for you.

Since the baby still needed all your attention, you started to work from the house. Designing, after all, could be done from home, and since Mina was a sleepy girl, you could work relatively well.

Your routine was rough. You couldn't sleep much because the baby would wake up crying in the middle of the night, waking you up. And, when she finally falls asleep, you couldn't rest yourself. So, you decided to start working at night.

You had to take care of Mina, clean the house by yourself and even do your work. It was evident on your face that you lost some weight and the dark mess under your sights were showing signs of tiredness.

Your husband's routine was the same ever since then. He would kiss your forehead as goodbye in the morning, and, would do the same as he stepped inside the house passing the three in the morning.

Of course, he would go and kiss his Mina good night as well. And also, always tell her he loved her. Something he hasn't said to you, in months.

You woke yesterday with a new feeling of hope blooming in your chest. Day 15th of May, it's your wedding anniversary of 3 years.

You woke up early, hurrying in making your husband a delicious breakfast. As you happily hummed a song that was stuck in your head, you finished the pancakes, a proud smile displayed on your lips.

But quickly the smile vanished away when Chan appeared in the kitchen: He kissed your forehead, picked his keys from the hall and walked out.

No 'I love you'. No 'good morning baby'. No 'Happy 3 year anniversary.' Nothing.

With teary eyes you gazed all over the food you cooked him: the pancakes, the sweet orange juice, some warm coffee, fresh fruit, and his favorite cereals.

You cooked it all for nothing... 'No!' You thought to yourself. 'He is just tired of all the pressure on him. Chan still loves me.' You notify yourself, cleaning the salty teardrops with the back of your hand.

In the afternoon you texted him 'Have a good afternoon of work, Love' but he didn't text back. It's ok, he is probably working -You thought.

Your baby, Mina, seemed very cheerful and talkative today. Flashing her gummy smile at you, whenever you cutely talked to her. Deciding to try another thing, you dressed her up with a cute pink dress and snapped some precious pictures.

'Do I look pretty?' You joked as you sent some pictures of her to your lover, and for your surprise... Chan replied immediately: 'My baby looks so pretty!'

You smiled as the idea of a new surprise to your lover came to your senses. As soon as the child was peacefully sleeping you dug in your wardrobe for something to wear.

After choosing the whole outfit, you decided to work on your new design for a while, so you could make some time to start cooking dinner.

Everything was ready at nine pm. You took a shower and were smelling like roses. The blue velvet dress was hugging your, now, less curvy body perfectly, making you feel confident. Even your make up was fire, simple but blue, making your hazel eyes sparkle.

In the kitchen there were candles everywhere, making a shady and dark but sensual environment drown the whole place as his favorite food was ready for him to eat as soon as he came home.

To your unhappiness, when Chan came home, it passed the five am and he was too tired to notice your romantic kitchen or the absence of your presence by his side in the bed.

You woke up in the kitchen a few minutes later. The candles still burning, the food now freezing and the house completely silent.

With your heart thumping stupidly fast, you thought something happened to Chan because there was no evidence of him. But you were mistaken.

As you silently footed inside the large bedroom, not to wake up the sleeping newborn, your eyes widened as you saw your husband dozing off on the king-sized bed.

How didn't he noticed that you weren't there? How didn't he noticed the kitchen carefully decorated with candles? Why did he only answer the texts about Mina and left yours? Why hasn't he said he loved you in months?

With burning tears rolling down your cheeks you walked back to the kitchen and began to clean it all. Halfway to all the dishes you were washing, you couldn't glimpse anything from the tears in your eyes and ended you falling asleep sitting on a chair, your head resting over your tear-stained dress.

Chan woke up the next morning, today, with a loving smile, the sunlight was brilliant, making the bedroom have a comfortable and warm atmosphere.

His muscular arm searched for your body, but his hands were only met with cold sheets. Chan immediately opened his eyes.

You weren't in the bedroom. Maybe you were in your creative room, so he walked over there to check. But you weren't there either.

Then he remembered that you love to shower in the morning, so, he walked to the bathroom, only to find silence. No sign of you.

It hit him there. Where were you? Why weren't you by his side?

With fast and worried steps he walked to the kitchen and as soon as his eyes recognized your figure, the tears were already blurring his vision.

There was a burned smell inside, and he recognized it because of the melted candles all around him. His eyes found cooked food at the top of the table and dirty dishes on the sink.

No, no.... He couldn't....

You were even worse: Your face was stained with dry make-up under your eyes and cheeks. Your dress was messy and your heavy breathing suddenly felt like punches in his stomach.

The blonde man picks up his phone and notices the little reminder '3 year marriage anniversary - yesterday'.

Chan falls on his knees in a silent cry. All the memories of what he has been doing making his heart break with blame.

All those months without a single 'I love you'; all those months without giving you the, so worth love... He missed you.

You woke up scared. An unknown sound of sobs filling your ears. The baby... You guessed immediately, but the sight of your husband on his knees by your side made you think twice.

"Chan," You called for him. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

As soon as he recognized your voice, his guilty eyes studied your worried face. He wasted no more time: Chan stood up on his feet and held your body tightly against his:

"I'm so sorry YN. I never meant to hurt you... I swear... I just- I know I have been neglecting you and it's all my fault...." He cried with his face hidden in your shoulder in shame. "I'm such a bad husband. I was so focused on our daughter that I forgot that you needed my love as well... I'm so sorry baby..."

By this time, you couldn't stop the tears from dropping from your stares. You wanted to inform him that its ok, that it doesn't matter, but it does.

You've felt so alone, so lonely...

"Chan..." You whispered fighting back a cry.

"I'm sorry... I will pay more attention to you." Chan said with his lungs full of air. "I love you so much YN. And I will show it to you more, I'll thank you every day, for loving me and for taking care of our daughter." His fingers were caressing your cheeks, and you leaned on his touch.

"I missed you so much, Channie..." You pouted.

"I missed you too, darling." Chan smiled and then proceeded to smooch your lips. Once, twice... until he was satisfied.

"I won't ever neglect you again, love. You are the of my life..." With those last words, you buried your face in the crook of his neck and inhaled his manly perfume, as you hugged him.

You've missed this. You've missed your husband. But it's all good now, he is finally here for you.

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿　 　*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿

Note: Hello my stars, I'm here but I am not. I'm just passing by to drop this veryyyy long time stamp that I've promised my dear friend to post. I really enjoyed writing it! (I may had shed a tear while writing). Remember, notes and reblogs are appreciated. Thank you so much ♥ Good night (it's passing the 1am here hahA) I'm sorry if there is any mistakes, I'll revise it again tomorrow.　

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Fangs//Easy (Part 2)

Request: Can I request a sequel to easy?? Maybe a happy ending of some kind? It makes me so sad D;

hey!! its here! i hope you guys like this and that it fixes all your broken hearts! also, @wayward-river​ i told you i’d post it soon!

part 1

“How do you make it look so easy?”

“What?”

“Forgetting us.”

“Y/n!” He calls after you but you’re retreating figure makes him sigh. He’s fucked up...big time. And he has no way to fix it. He broke your heart with no explanation and just two weeks later replaced you with another girl. You were right. You always are. You should be here together, or at home watching TV. 

“Fangs?” He kind of forgot he came here with his new girlfriend and when he turns around to acknowledge her, she’s on him instantly, pushing him into the bathroom. But he feels nothing. There’s only one thing on his mind and its you. But to be honest, thats nothing new. 

“I’m not really in the mood.” He pushes her away and she pouts in return. However its got nothing on you, you could pout at him and he’d do literally anything for you. He’d do anything for you anyway. 

So why did he break up with you?

Not even he knows and the more he thinks about it, the crazier he goes. 

“Lets go back to the party.” He forces a smile and she thinks about it for a moment before smiling and grabbing his hand, dragging him back to hell.

-----

“Pick up for Y/l/n.” You send a small smile to Pop and he returns it before walking into the back leaving you alone. You look around the diner to see that the affect the party has had on it. There’s hardly anybody in, seeing as though its not quite late enough for drunk teenagers to come rolling in. You sigh and you’re about to pull your phone out of your pocket when your eyes land on a familiar serpent, sat at the back of the diner with an empty milkshake in front of him and his phone in his hand.  

Should you talk to him?

On one hand he looks sad and you did love him. You still do. He was your entire world. But on the other hand, he tore your heart out, ripped it in to shreds and then stamped on it. So fuck him. 

“Here you go Y/n.” Pop hands you your paper bag and you take it gratefully. “Have a nice night.” 

“You too Pop.” You smile at him and hand him the money before turning around. You’re almost out the door. Almost safe...and then.

“Y/n?” His voice is quiet and full of fear but you hear it anyway and sigh. The action making Fangs feel even more depressed. 

Yep. It took two weeks and one party, but your ex is finally, truly experiencing a break up. Something that you surprisingly take no joy in. Its like your staring into a really depressing mirror as you take in his appearance. His hair is messy, his eyes are red and his face is blotchy. Very different to how he looked just a few hours before. 

“Hey Fangs.” You turn and wave awkwardly. The action being unusual to both of you. You’re never this awkward around each other, but thats what a break up does to someone.

“Your usual?” He points to your bag and you nod slowly. 

“Yeahhh.” You trail off and look around. “Where’s your girlfriend?” 

“Ex.” 

“What?” 

“She’s my ex. I broke up with her.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeahh.” He sighs and you look at the floor. 

“I would say I’m sorry. But I’m not.” 

“I get that.” He smiles a little and you return it, and for a few seconds every thing is normal again. “Do you want me to walk you home?” And there’s the tension that seems to follow you both around. 

“Oh, no. Its fine.” You shake your head. 

“It’s late though.” 

“It’s not that late.” You argue. 

“But its dark.” 

“I’ll be fine.” 

“I’m going that way anyway.” 

“Okay!” You throw your hands up in defeat. “Fine. But we’re walking in silence and I’m not sharing my food with you.” 

“Okay.” He nods. “And you never did anyway.” 

“True.” You agree and he smiles softly to himself. “Well, are you coming or not?” 

“Oh, yeah.” He says quickly and reaches for the door, holding it open for you. You smile gratefully at him as you pass and as soon as your in the neon lit parking lot, you don’t wait for him. Instead you focus on the wet ground, and the fact that you might not be able to avoid the rain for much longer. You’d been lucky on the way here, leaving just as it had stopped, but you had a feeling it would start again and that would be all you need. 

Fangs catches up to you quickly and he falls in to step with you. The paper bag rustling, draws his attention away from the dark sky and he steals a glance at you while your head is practically inside your take-out bag. The small action makes him laugh silently, and it only grows louder when you emerge with a mouthfull of fries. 

“What?” Your question is muffled and your face is filled with annoyance, but it does nothing to stop him from smiling. He simply holds his hands up in defense making you roll your eyes before looking away. 

The sky is full of dark clouds, the moon barely visible and the stars are no where to be seen. It’s unusual for a night in summer but it kind of fits your mood. 

“Y/n?” Fangs’ voice pulls your attention away from the clouds above your head, both physically and metaphorically and you take a deep breath before looking at him. 

“What happened to silence?” You raise an eyebrow at him making him look at the ground. 

“I know. I just need to say something and then I promise I’ll shut up. Okay?” 

“Okay.” You nod reluctantly. 

“I’m sorry.” The words are simple, yet it feels a ton weight has been lifted off the both of you. A tiny part of your heart is healed. 

“Okay.” You reply. “You’re not forgiven. But okay.” 

For five minutes your walk is silent, but its not as awkward as it was. There’s a mutual understanding between the two of you and you know Fangs was being sincere. He was truly sorry. And even though it doesn’t excuse the fact that he ruined a relationship for seemingly nothing, its a step in the right direction. 

“Hey Fangs?” You break the silence and his head whips up to look at you. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you want some of my fries?” You ask and hold the bag out to him. 

“Yeah.” He nods. “I’d like that.” He smiles and takes some fries from you. You make brief eye contact with him before looking away and forcing the blush off your face. 

The trailer park comes into view and a soft smile appears on your face and the thought of being back home. However, it seems as soon as you think about being safe from parties, heartbreak and impending rain, thunder sounds followed by lightning and then, of course...rain. 

“Shit.” Fangs mumbles and ducks his head, walking just a little faster. 

“my food...” You mumble sadly as you look down at the brown paper bag in your hand. Fangs stops and looks at you, a pout on your lips as you watch your take-out bag get wetter. 

Damn. That pout. The pout that will make him do anything. 

“Here.” He shrugs his jacket off and hands it to you. 

“What?” You ask, looking between him and his outstretched hand. 

“For your burger.” 

“Its fine.” You laugh. “But thank you.” 

“What if you come a bit closer, and then we can both huddle under my jacket and then your dinner won’t get any soggier.”  He suggests and you roll your eyes but do what he says anyway. 

“You really are my hero.” You say as the two of you hurry towards the trailer park. 

“Thats me. Fangs Fogarty, the burger hero this town deserves. Saving burgers, one at a time.” 

“Wow.” 

“I know. I know. It can be quite daunting to meet your heroes.” 

“You’re such a dumbass.” 

“I know.” He replies making you giggle. “Well, here you are.” He says as you stop outside your trailer. 

“Here I am.” You reply and take your keys from your pocket. He continues to hold his jacket above your head, despite the fact that he’s not under it anymore, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “I’ll see you around Fangs. And thank you for walking me home.” 

“I protect humans, as well as burgers. Especially if they’re pretty.” 

“You think burgers are pretty?” You tease making him roll his eyes. 

So...about that burger?” 

“Get your own Fogarty.” You quickly pull the bag away from him and he frowns. “Good night.” You send him a warm smile before running up the steps and unlocking the front door. You look at him one last time before walking in and closing the door behind you. 

The darkness of your home seems to overwhelm you as soon as the door closes and you let out a long sigh while you lean your head against the glass. 

Two weeks is a short time in the grand scheme of things. In an entire life time its nothing. But everything has changed in the past two weeks. Your entire life has been flipped and you want nothing more than to go back. To go back two weeks, just an hour before the fight that ended it all and just enjoy being happy and in love, with no sign of anything bad ever happening. 

“Y/n!” Fangs’ harsh knocking on the door makes you jump and quickly swing it open. He’s stood in the rain, holding his jacket loosely, but as soon as he see’s you he drops it. 

“Oh, thank God.” You mumble and move towards him, your hands cupping his cheeks while his squeeze your hips. You kiss him harshly making him wobble a little at the force, but as soon as he steadies himself he kisses you back just as roughly and pushes you back through the door, kicking it closed behind him. 

And suddenly, there’s no sign of anything bad looming...not anymore. 

[lppsidefics]

Meihem Fanfic: Victim Parallel

Chapter 1: Breaking news update

><><><><  

“The on going situation downtown has erupted into chaos, as two gun men opened fire on a police barricade. The assailants, who have yet to be identified, robbed the Valiant Marks bank earlier this morning, stealing an estimated 36 thousand dollars in gold, and are currently attempting an escape on Hi 20-20 in a high speed chase. Police Chief Wilhelm had this to say on the matter-”

“Duōme kěpà…” Mei switched off the television as the tea kettle whistled in the kitchen. She took the steaming pot off the heat and poured the boiled liquid into a set of prepared mugs, adding a spoon full of cocoa powder to each as she went. Placing the hot kettle on a rag for cooling, she stirred the mixtures a few times, before rearranging the cups onto a tray for transportation.

Only struggling a little with the balance of the serving plate, Mei headed out into the hallway lined with bedroom doors. She stopped at the first door on the right, where a pink and blue poster was plastered over its surface featuring a brunette girl and signed in the top hand corner, “Love D.va.”

Mei tapped lightly, and opened the door slowly, giving a peek into the room before entering. In the large bed that took up most of the space, was the very same girl from the posters layered along the walls. The bed was fixed with blinking colored lights, and stamped with stickers, some peeling from their edges, and wrapped in the blue sheets was a messy head of brunette hair.

“Zǎoshang hǎo…Good morning…Are you still sleeping Hana? ” Mei whispered, and the girl started to wake.

Her eyes were still half closed, and not adjusted to sight yet, as Hana lifted from the pillow, giving a stretched moan as she moved. “Good… morning.” She greeted, and Mei offered a purple mug full of hot cocoa to the tired woman. “Gamsahabnida…”

“You’re welcome.” Mei replied, before exiting the room and moving to the next door in the hall. This one, was littered with bumper stickers from all kinds of places.

Some just said the names of cities, and some had dumb little jokes on them like ‘Is your refrigerator running? Better catch it.’ Reading them gave Mei the urge to roll her eyes, but she’d grown pretty used to seeing them there.

Again she gave the door a soft tap, but this time someone answered. “Who is it?” Said a cheerful voice from the other side.

“It’s Mei!”

“Come right in luv.” Mei obeyed, and opened the door. Inside, a tall woman with chop cut brown hair was sitting in a rolling chair beside the computer desk. “Good morn’n Mei! You bright an’ bushy tailed today?”

“Good morning Lena, I…” Mei paused to consider the question a second time. “…I don’t know what that mean’s actually, but I made coco.” She said with a smile, holding out the serving tray topped with only two remaining cups.

“Oh, Lovely!” Lena exclaimed with excitement, before taking up the red mug printed with a Christmas tree. “Thanks luv, you’re always think’n of others Mei. Here I got this paper to write, an’ you’re bein’ such a dear.”

“It was no problem.” Mei insisted, taking the final cup of cocoa, and raising it in a cheers pose. “I was making some anyway.” The other woman returned the gesture, and they each took a small swig. The realization that the drink was warm came too late for them both, and they lowered the cups quickly with whimpers of pain.

With sounds of distress, Lena spun around in the chair, placing the hot mug on the surface of the desk and covering her face with her hand. “Sorry…” Mei muttered through her own pain. “…I forgot it was so hot.”

Lena gave a chuckle and smiled. “No need to worry luv, I’m alright.” She straightened up in the seat and crossed her legs. “So are you still goin’ to hospital today?”

“Yes, Dr Winston says Bastion’s condition is getting better.” Mei explained with a nod, and brought the steaming mug up to give it a gentle blow. “He might wake up soon, and the Doctor wants him to have a familiar face to wake up to.”

Returning to face her laptop, Lena started clacking away at the keys at a rapid pace that Mei’s eyes couldn’t really keep up with. “Well that’s real sweet of you to go all that way on ah Saturday luv. Emily an’ I are goin’ for a cinema date this afternoon, if I can get this bloody thing done that is.”

Mei wiped a hand across her lips to remove the cocoa left there, and it was then, that the sound of another door swinging open interrupted the conversation, and a still bed headed Hana passed by in the hallway on her way to the bathroom.

“Say Mei, don’t you need to get goin’?” Lena asked without looking away from the computer screen.

“Hm? No, I still need to take a shower, but I’ve got plenty of time, it’s only eleven a.m.” Mei stated, taking another carful sip of her cocoa.

Lena spun the chair back around to meet Mei. “Not quite luv, my clock here says it’s already passed noon.” Bolting towards the laptop, Mei squinted to read the tiny computer clock at the bottom of the screen.

“Bù hǎole!” Mei exclaimed, disposing of her coco mug on Lena’s desk and rushing out of the room. “Wǒ yào chídàole!” She went for the restroom but the handle was locked when she twisted it.

“Ya!” Hana screamed from inside. “Man-eul yeolji ma! I’m in here! Wait your turn!”

The sound of water spraying from the shower indicated that Hana was not going to change her mind, and Mei gritted her teeth with stress before hurrying down the hall to her own bedroom instead. She swung open the door, her panda bear doorplate clacking on its string, before digging through her closet.

Mei’s room was usually quite tidy, but her closet was almost always a war zone of clean and dirty clothes stuffed into hampers and squeezed into drawers. She grabbed the sleeve of a sweater she recognized and pulled the entire garment out of the pile.

Moving to the mirror on the closet door, Mei held the sweater up, inspecting it’s condition before deciding to pull it on over her tank top. It was a long sweater, practically a dress with her short stature, and the collar was wide enough to reveal the smallest glimpse of her dark blue tank underneath.

But she was low on time, and the outfit was nice enough to suffice. Mei swiped a comb from her dresser table and started viciously pulling it through her dark locks. She brushed until her hair was at least manageable, and then wrapped it into a easy bun at the top of her head, stabbing a bobby pin into it just to keep it from falling apart.

Adjusting her thick rimmed glasses, she gave herself one last checkover in the mirror, before scooping her satchel over her head and heading out of the apartment. “Bye! I’ll be home later!” She called out, digging her bare feet into a set of slip on shoes, and out the door she went, hopping down the staircase in a hurried pace.

The bus ride was short since the hospital was only a few blocks away, and Mei was in the building and on the elevator in less than an hour. Reaching the seventeenth floor, Mei found her way to the front desk for check in.

“Hallo Mei-ling!” A familiar voice greeted, and Mei turned to meet it’s owner. Dr. Angela Ziegler practically glided through the hall in an elegant walk, her blonde hair bound into a tail, and her white coat fluttering like feathery wings behind her. “Who are you here to see today my friend?”

“Nǐ hǎo! Dr. Winston asked me to visit with Bastion today. He’s supposed to wake from the coma soon.” The tall angelic doctor stopped beside Mei as they spoke, her hight nearly dwarfing the Chinese woman.

“Well, don’t be too upset if he doesn’t, Mei-ling…” Angela sighed, trading her clipboard chart with another sitting on the desk surface. “After all, this is not an exact science.”

Mei-ling followed the Doctor down the hall, keeping a brisk pace behind her. “I know Doctor. Last year he didn’t wake for a whole month late, I’m just trying to… stay positive!” She cheered with a smile, holding up a resolute fist of strength.

With a short bit of laughter, Angela came to a slow stop before a hospital room. “I think we all need a little bit of your attitude Mei-ling!” She opened the door, revealing the inner long space where machinery beeped and tiny lights flickered with green hues. The room was rather cramped, but that was normal for a room at a hospital, and the back wall was lined with chairs. Mei moved in and sat into one of the seats, depositing her bag in the chair beside her.

“I’ll go let Dr Winston know you’re here. I’m sure he’ll want to see you too.” Angela said before leaving the woman alone with the patient, and closing the door.

With a sigh, Mei shifted her attention to Bastion, whos small body barely filled the hospital bed. The child’s light brown hair was short and fluffy, like he’d just come out of a bath, and his weak little arms laid motionless.

This was one part of the volunteer work she never got used to. Seeing the patients so fragile and deathly, as if their very soul was dangling between life and the after life.

It was particularly upsetting to see children this way.

Mei shook the thoughts from her mind and forced a smile onto her face, deciding that she needed to busy herself with something she scanned the room for a task to keep her preoccupied.

The many gifts and drawings that had previously been displayed in Bastions old room, were now just cornered on a rolling table for transport, and Mei took it upon herself to organize them for the child’s awakening.

She stood and started to re-arrange the flowers around the window, using the nurses station sink to re-fill the vases with water. She collected the cards and propped them up on their folds, along with the coinciding gift.

One by one, Mei-ling hung the crayon scribbled construction papers along the wall, and gathered the toys into a single waiting chair to save space. She picked up a stuffed bear with a tag signed ‘from Uncle Torby’, and tucked it neatly beneath one of Bastion’s thin arms.

He seemed to have a response to the motion, and gave a very low huff.

Mei sat in the chair again, leaning into speak to the comatose boy. “Nǐ hǎo Bastion…” Though she knew he couldn’t hear her, Mei hoped it would bring him some sort of comfort, trying to let him know that he wasn’t alone. “…It’s Mei-ling, remember me?…”

“…I’ll be right here when you wake up okay?…” The child made no movements, but Mei smiled at him anyway.

Soon after, Dr Winston entered the room, ducking his head slightly to fit under the door frame. “Ah, hello Mei-ling! How are you today?”

“I’m doing fine Doctor.” Mei responded with the nod of her head, and then both their attentions turned to the sleeping child.

Winston sat on a wheeled stool and awkwardly maneuvered himself over to the patients bed. “And how are you doing Bastion?” The Doctor asked jokingly, pretending to listen closer to the boy for an answer. “What’s that Bastion my boy? You’re ready for lunch? You and I both!”

The man laughed boisterously at his own humor, and Mei stifled a giggle. Dr Winston was a tall, muscular man, with thick black hair and a patchy beard. His glasses were comically small on his wide face, and his voice was gruff but warm. He’d been Mei’s teacher in college and now she apprenticed under him, learning what she can about the medical field.

“Let’s get started shall we?” Winston said, taking up a syringe and filling it from a small canister on the table beside him, then, he injected the liquid into Bastions iv tube.

Mei nervously watched the medicine travel through the tube, though she couldn’t really see the water like substance, and the two fell silent as they waited for a response.

Nothing. Bastion didn’t move or make a sound, he just slept calmly, and Dr Winston scratched the back of his head with a massive hand. “Well, that was anticlimactic…” He said with a sigh, and then turned his attention to Mei who was seated across the bed. “…Give him sometime, I’ll check in again later.”

With a nod, Mei relaxed in her chair, and Winston left her alone once again with the patient. Utter silence retaking the room.