#I envy the people who can just fucking live and still have a grasp on their own mind and abilities

[wholemleko]

.

[knoxslut]

envy : johnny knoxville

💗warnings: jealous johnny, kind of rough smut, alcohol

💗summary: you and johnny had been best friends but one night he confesses something that changes ur relationship forever!!

💗a/n: I kind of hate this but it’s my first fic pls don’t bully me 🤙🤙

༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻

Being a part of the jackass cast was the best job you could’ve asked for. You get to hang with your buddies all day for work, and at night you go to parties, bars, and clubs with them. Although it could be tough to deal with them sometimes, you could always handle it.

You had been best friends with bam and his family since you were young. You and the cKy crew grew up together. That’s how you eventually landed your spot in the jackass crew.

The moment you met the infamous Johnny Knoxville, something clicked. You two hit it off instantly, cracking each other up with jokes and stories. He was your best friend besides your cky buddies. Everyone would always tease you two about “how in love” you were, and you pretended to not care and be grossed out by it, even if you really did have a little crush on him. You knew he would never feel the same, so you tried your best to hide your feelings for him from everybody.

Work had run long into the night, and everyone decided to go out on the town together and meet up at some bar a little ways from set. You rushed home and put on a cute outfit that you hoped would spark attention.

Arriving at the bar, you saw bam, ryan, johnny, spike, and steveo sitting at a table in the back of the bar, sipping on beers, talking and laughing. You started walking over and they immediately put their eyes on you. “Y/n’s here!” Steve-o shouted. He stood up and hugged you with a firm, joking hit on the back. “Where’s everyone else?” You say. “They’re coming soon, probably fucking around on set still.” Bam says.

You can feel somebody’s eyes lingering on you. Johnny is staring at you, up and down, down and up, until he gets to your face. “Hey y/n. Sit down!” Johnny says, with his signature smile on his face, patting the seat next to him. You smile and sit as you see pontius, dave, ehren, wee-man, and preston walk into the bar.

After an hour or two, the bar is full and people are crowded on the dance floor. Everybody but johnny and spike are either getting more drinks, or dancing. You, steveo and pontius are on the dance floor, being stupid but having the time of your lives. “You look really pretty tonight,” pontius says to you. “Really? Thanks!” You say, genuinely complimented. Steve-o has found some girl to dance with, so you and pontius come to a silent agreement to be dance partners. You guys start dancing to whatever song is playing, holding hands. As the dancing progresses, you end up with your face pressed against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist, and his arms dangerously low on your back. You look over to johnny, who’s staring at you with an expression on his face you just can’t seem to figure out.

You and pontius are looking each other in the eyes, smiling and giggling together about something when you feel an arm grab you. You whip your head around ready to punch someone, but it’s Johnny. You were confused as to why he has grabbed you, but you smiled at him nonetheless. “Can I talk to you outside for a second? Sorry Pontius.” He says, sternly and quickly. He yanks you out of chris’s grip and pulls you out the back door of the bar, and faces you once you come out of the door.

You look at him with confusion. “What were you doing out there?” He says to you. You’re trying to look into his eyes to grasp any sense of emotion but you can’t because of his aviators. “Having fun, what are you talking about?” “I’m talking about the fact that you were letting Chris undress you with his eyes and then grope you on the dance floor!” You’re taken aback by his statement. “I let him undress me with his eyes and I let him grope me? What are you talking about? All we did was dance together! And plus even if he was doing all of that, why does it matter to you? It’s not like you’re my mom, who do you think you-“

Your statement gets cut off as johnny quickly comes down and kisses you passionately. You can taste the beer on his mouth and you can smell the cologne on him, and you loved it. He pulls away from the kiss, and looks you in the eyes. You’re too stunned to speak a word. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that? Since the day we met. You were the most beautiful woman i had ever seen. I just couldnt stand watching you with him tonight, im so-“ you cut him off and connect your lips with his once more, cutting him off just as he did to you a few moments ago. You hold his face as he holds your waist.

You had never dreamed that this would ever happen. Hearing Johnny say he wanted you since the day you met set your body ablaze. There was a growing fire in you as the kiss got more and more needy. Johnny pulls away quickly and the air is filled with the sound of your guys’s light panting. “Can we take this back to my place?” He says. All you can do is nod, making him smile. You two race to get back to his place and as soon as you get inside, you’re slammed up against the door, and kissed roughly.

Johnny forces his tongue into your mouth as they start battling for dominance. He breaks away for air and then picks you up so your stomach is against his and your legs are wrapped around his waist, then he starts bringing you upstairs. You place your arms on his shoulders and start trailing kisses from his jaw to his semi-exposed collarbone. You nip and leave lovebites all over the left side of his neck. You’re dropped onto his bed and he’s immediately over you, dark brown eyes burning into yours.

He brings his head next to yours so he can whisper in your ear, and puts his hands where your waist meets your hips. “Since the day we’ve met, I’ve wanted to fuck you until you come apart on my cock and every hole you have is filled with my cum. Is that what you want?” every word he said sent a shock to your core and took your breath out of your lungs. You can only nod as a devilish grin spreads across his face.

He lifts your shirt off of you and unhooks your bra. He comes up and stares at your uncovered upper body in front of him. “God, you’re beautiful.” You smile at the praise as he dives in to your neck, kissing and nipping down your chest all the way to your pants, you moaning in a mix of pain and pleasure each time he bites. He skillfully unbuttons and unzips your jeans using his teeth, then rips your pants off with his hands.

He starts rubbing your clit through your panties. You whimper and cover your mouth trying to conceal the moans bursting out of you. With his other hand, Johnny pulls your hand off of your mouth. “Let me hear you. Let everyone know who makes you feel good.” With his words, you start moaning freely and breathlessly saying his name. “Yeah, you like that?” He says with a sinister look in his eyes. You moan in response and squirm with his every movement.

He takes you by your hand and lifts you to stand up. “Now are you gonna use your words, or is your mouth only useful when it’s on my cock?” Yeah you probably could’ve spoken if you really tried, but you wanted the latter anyways. “Ok, fine.” He says and pushes you down to your knees. You start unbuckling his belt as fast as possible. His pants drop and he’s left with an obvious bulge in his boxers. You start palming at it and rubbing through the fabric. Each time he groans you squeeze your thighs tighter.

You hook your fingers in the waistband of his boxers and pull down, revealing his hard cock. You take it in your hand and swirl your tongue around the tip. Johnny puts his hand in your hair and grabs it, then starts lightly tugging at your hair each time you move your tongue. You quickly start taking more of him in, as much as you can each time. He starts moving your head up and down his cock, gently rocking his hips every time.

You start gagging on his cock each time it hits the back of your throat and tears start to prick at your eyes. Johnny is now completely controlling the movements, and you let him. Suddenly, he pulls you off. You’re pulled up and slammed back into the bed. Johnny pulls your underwear down, throwing it behind him with no regard for where they end up. He pulls his shirt off as quick as possible, and your eyes immediately land on his body. You reach to grab him but your hands are harshly pushed back into the bed. Johnny grabs your wrists, bringing them up over your head and holding them with one hand.

You gaze into his eyes, giving him a desperate look. He grabs his cock and runs it through your folds once before harshly shoving into you. Giving you no time to adjust, he starts at a rapid pace. The pain turns quickly into immense pleasure as you let out pornographic moans. “yeah. you like being fucked like the slut you are?” You only moan in response. “cant even respond. guess you’re only good at being fucked senseless, huh?”

your vision is blurry and you can barely hear, all of your focus on how good you feel. You can feel yourself getting closer to the edge, and you start clenching around Johnny. “shit doll, you keep doin that and I’m gonna-“ He interrupts himself with a moan. “oh shit, sweetheart I’m close.” He brings his hand that isn’t holding your hands to your neck, lightly squeezing. Your nails run against his back, hard and scratching, for sure gonna leave marks in the morning.

He brings his hands to your clit, rubbing fast circles, sending you over the edge. You clench around him before he throws his head back with a low, loud groan, spilling inside of you. your eyes roll to the back of your head in pure bliss. you look back at Johnny through half lidded eyes and you can see him staring at you with a smile on his face. “I wish you could see yourself, doll. you look like an angel.”

Your smile grows wide at his words and he comes down to give you a kiss. This one was different from the last ones. It was slow, gentle, and loving. He pulls away as you sit up on the bed. “I’ll be right back.” he runs out of the room and comes back in with new boxers on, a towel, and one of his old T-shirts. he hands you the shirt to put on as he wipes your core with the towel, grinning when he sees you shudder as the towel swipes through your sensitive folds.

he climbs into bed and pulls the two of you under the covers. you cuddle up to him and put your head on his chest. his arm comes around to hold you close and you feel his soft breath on your neck. you look up at him and smile. “I really like you, johnny.” he looks back at you with a goofy smile. “I really like you too.”

༺☆༻ ༺☆༻ ༺☆༻

[menlove]

I envy people who don't have to work through school like the amount of my classmates who are going to school on their parents' money and staying in dorms or off campus on their parents' money so all they have to worry about is school is so.......

like I really can't help but feel like it really is so unfair and I know that's the entire point and higher education is gatekept to keep the lower class uneducated but it sucks that I have to still work to afford bills while going to school full time where they just get to focus on school. like I will Maybe have one day off without school or work a week. maybe. if I'm lucky and the schedule aligns, but usually it's one or the other or both.

and I know other lower class people dealing with this and it sucks especially because professors are Used to these upper middle class students and set their expectations there. like I straight up had a professor last year say to a class full of students "these readings shouldn't be too difficult. I know I'm assigning a few books a week, but since most of you don't have jobs just read it in your free time. and if you do work at like mcdonalds or something just put your headphones in at work and listen to the audiobook" which is so fucking unhinged and detached from the reality of what working and going to school is like

and it just sucks bc to your professors a lot of the time you just look uncommitted or lazy bc they expect you to be able to prioritize school like your classmates but I don't think they Grasp that for some of us we HAVE to put our jobs first or we won't have anywhere to live or food to eat. like not everyone can just call daddy and get more money on their credit card. but that's a majority of students in universities and it's genuinely infuriating that the system isn't built to help working students but 🤷‍♂️ that's America I guess

[aerodaltonimperial]

that spooky lighthouse au epilogue

(idk man i re-read this fic and was like oh, i love that universe still, that was so much fun to write, maybe i should write a little ending? so here you go.)

Darby wakes before the sun.

At this point of the season, not that much before, but enough that the glow coming in through the blinds is still a muted, reddish hue. It’s learned behavior, really; he was always woken up when something went wrong, or when the lighthouse turned itself on, and now, the instincts are slow to fade. Except that now he wakes up and stares up at the textured ceiling tiles of a just off campus apartment that’s far too small for the amount of people currently living in it.

There’d been a nightmare at some point last night, the kind that worms its way down into his bones. He runs a hand over his face and sighs. Then he rolls over to slide his arm across Jack’s waist. Jack is an indulgent sleeper—he never fails to curl around Darby’s hold, scooching back against him without waking up. He’s the sort of person who has never had to worry about his well-being while he slept, never had fear tickling the back of his neck even in his dreams.

Darby envies him, but more than that, he’s determined to make sure that stays true. He curves himself along Jack’s spine, slotting his knees behind the other’s. Presses a kiss to Jack’s shoulder, the little bit of skin peeking out from beneath his shirt collar. Sometimes, Darby can fall back asleep and catch another hour or two. This morning is not one of those times.

When it’s obvious he won’t be able to get any more rest, Darby slides out of Jack’s grasp and creeps quietly out of the room. There’s only one main room, separated into the living room and the kitchen; counter space is severely lacking, but neither Hook nor Jack seem to be much for cooking. The coffee maker holds a space of honor in the corner. The timer hasn’t switched on yet, so Darby flips it manually.

He’s sitting on one of the unpainted kitchen chairs, staring out the sliding glass door, when the door to the other bedroom opens. Hook makes it halfway out before he realizes Darby is there. Then he frowns, blinks, and sets his phone on the counter. “You’re up early.”

“So are you,” Darby returns.

Hook shrugs. He’s dressed in shorts and a tank. “Going to the gym. Can’t sleep?”

“Happens sometimes.”

Hook nods. He goes to the fridge and pulls out a bottle filled with an obnoxious green smoothie, one of those ridiculously expensive things both of them tend to buy without even thinking. He seems as though he’s getting ready to leave, but pauses before he hits the door.

“Hey,” he says, to get Darby’s attention. “I know you saved his life. So...thanks.”

“Thanks?”

“He’s annoying as fuck, and I swear he doesn’t have an ounce of sense in his head, but he’s my best friend,” Hook says. “I don’t know where I’d be without him. So. Yeah. Thanks.”

Darby nods once, slow. “You’re welcome.”

“You’re still an ass,” Hook tells him.

“Feelings mutual.” Darby jerks his head back towards the bedroom door. “He up yet?”

“Nah. He’s pretty lazy sometimes.” Hook doesn’t bother to wave when he leaves, just grabs his keys from the holder nailed to the wall. But the coffee is done, so Darby gets a cup. It’s some organic brand; the bag boasts that it was grown, like, beneath only blue lights that had been locally sourced in dirt flown in from a tiny island in the Pacific or some shit. Darby doesn’t know where the hell they buy this crap. Tastes good, though, so maybe he shouldn’t complain.

Halfway through the cup, Danhausen wanders out from the room. He squints blearily at Darby for a moment before waving a hand. “Ah. Good morning.”

“For an all-powerful entity, you sure would be easy to kill in the mornings,” Darby says.

Danhausen grumbles out something unintelligible when he goes to the counter to hunt down a clean coffee mug. “Yes, yes. Be sure to put a big neon light up when you invite things in. Danhausen will hardly be the most interesting specimen in the apartment.”

When Darby makes a face, Danhausen offers a wide smile. “Darby has been touched by an otherworldly. He is considered a delicacy in some realms now.”

“So has Jack.” Darby frowns.

“Huh,” Danhausen replies, with overly false surprise. “An added bonus.”

That makes Darby think a little. He takes another sip. “You keeping everything away?”

“Perhaps,” Danhausen says. “But it is not a full-time job. We are not very high on anyone’s lists. And right now, Danhausen will go shower, so that we remain that way: unnoticeable.”

Darby doesn’t really know what a shower has to do with not being noticed by dangerous entities from other worlds, but whatever. He finishes his coffee, pours another cup, and goes out onto the balcony. Dawn has broken, painting the sky red. Here, they are far enough from the coast that the smell of the sea is hard to pick up, but Darby lived his life by the brine, and he’d know it anywhere. It’s strange to be looking out over the morning and not hear the roar of the waves or the screams of the gulls.

Eventually, the door slides open behind him, and Jack pads out onto the metal. “Hey. When did you wake up?”

“Not that long ago,” Darby replies.

“I’ve only got Lit and Calc today, so I’ll be back early.” Jack leans over the railing, both elbows propped up against it. “Wanna hit somewhere near the beach for dinner?”

“Sure.”

Jack studies him, chewing on his bottom lip. “You okay?”

Darby turns, back hitting the rail. He loops an arm around Jack’s shoulders, mostly so he can pull the other in closer, press his face against Jack’s hair pulled back in a messy bun. The coconut scent of his shampoo is strangely grounding. His t-shirt covers none of his arm, the tattoo that’s still healing to hide the shadowy marks that will never go away: overlapping ocean waves against the rocks.

Against his better judgment, Darby misses those rocks.

But he’s here, standing on a balcony overlooking the sprawling student apartments that carry far too high a rent, drinking overpriced coffee that Hook will bitch about having to buy more often with more people drinking. Darby drops a kiss against Jack’s temple as Jack curls in closer, fingers sliding up beneath the hem of Darby’s shirt.

“Yeah,” Darby murmurs. “I’m okay.”

And for the first time in maybe forever, he really means it.

[pb-dot]

Film Friday: Dark City

On occasion I will come across a piece of media that would absolutely have me in its grasp if I watched it when I was younger. This isn't a value judgement on the movies as much as it is recognizing aesthetic that would be my entire shit if they got to me at a formative enough age. Today's movie is one of those, and as a bit of a mystery, I really recommend going into it blind. I also really recommend not watching the theatrical cut because it spoils the mystery in the opening minutes of the movie. If alternate cuts aren't available, as they often aren't in today's streaming market, you can correct for this by muting the movie until the screen is no longer dark. Trust me on this one. Anyway, let's get on with the movie.

John Murdoch is having a bit of a strange hangover, as he wakes up in a hotel room with a dead body and no memory of how he got himself into this situation. He has a wife, apparently, a job, and goals, he would like to escape the dreary overcast city and go to Shell Beach at one point. It is weird, he can't help but notice, how nobody seems to realize the sun never rises. Odder still is the machinations of The Strangers, a group of fellas in trench coats who run a city-wide experiment at night, shuffling around people's lives and the very geography of the city.

What unfolds is in practice a sci-fi-heavy Twilight Zone episode-type story. It is pretty fun to see how the almost-realistic if visually stylized ontological mystery peels away to the wider sci-fi thriller underneath. The movie does have answers to the questions it raises, and it is honestly one of the better examples of plots that do such a complete turn on its assumed genre.

It is also, I suspect, where the director lost the studio and promotion people. While I don't envy the job of trying to market a movie like Dark City to a late 90's cinema audience that hadn't had their minds sufficiently blown by The Matrix yet, there's no denying that New Line fucked up on this one.

It isn't just the opening of the movie, where Kiefer Sutherland's Dr. Schreber lays out the entire setup and every reveal for acts 1 and 2. Granted, as the Stranger's... let's call it unwilling collaborator, he would sit on all that knowledge... but you don't give that to the audience right away. Like what the actual fuck are you doing at that point? Why bother to HAVE a first and second act if you're just going to cliffnotes the entire thing minute one. Of course, it isn't helped that the tagline for the thing is also a real whopper of a spoiler as well.

It's easily one of the single most self-sabotaging moves in cinema history, and it's not like it'd be hard to make a compelling mystery out of it. "What lies at the heart of the Dark City," or perhaps "A man without a memory, lost in a city without light" or "jeez what's the deal with all those trench-coated cunts" or whatever. The movie is a really cleverly constructed set of mysteries, and just playing along with that a little bit could've made this movie quite iconic.

Now, this might be me going all "old man yells at cloud," but I think people forget how much the central mystery of what exactly The Matrix was. "The Matrix has you," promotional material would hint, "Free your mind." It was back in the day where you could, if you so chose, get real coy about what your movie actually was about, and if you presented a compelling mystery it could get butts in seats on that alone. I have always suspected this is what motivated the initial release of Alien in my country being titled "Den Åttende Passasjer" (lit: The Eight Passenger) was to try to build a bit of extra mystery.

All of this isn't to say that Dark City is this flawless piece of cinema. It is stylized so heavily it might come off a bit hokey to a modern audience. Some of it is in the acting, such as Kiefer Sutherland's intense unhinged brain doc, and the first few bits of Rufus Sewells protagonist feels a bit floundering and "Intro to Acting"-y. I will say that Sewell seems to hold himself admirably once there starts to be an actual plot for him to interact with, and Sutherland's semi-crazed intensity fits his role in that same plot way better than being "seemingly normal" ever did.

There is something deeply noir about this, about how the stylization of "regular" life in the city feels so alien because it is. The roles that are being played are superficial and inauthentic, and that's because they are. It's all an experiment by an alien observer, trying to suss out something or other about humanity through shuffling all the pieces around and seeing what it gets them. It is, in a way, a next level step from using stylistic sets and dialog to examine the human condition, or Science Fiction boiled down to its most basic component.

And what components indeed. We do get some of that not-always-great 90's CGI, but a lot of the movie's visuals is awesome sets and stylish lighting. Some of the sets, or so the story goes, was sold off to the production of The Matrix, and while they struck somewhat less of a striking figure in that movie, it is a neat little connection.

I feel I also must give a shoutout to the villains of this piece. We never learn too much about The Strangers and their deal, but there's enough intriguing hints and outright explanation to make them feel just real enough for the weird antagonist role they fill in the story. Mister Hand, played with a layer of subtle unhingedness even through all the Stranger business by the always kinda off Richard O'Brien, deserves particular note. Ian Richardson also gets a nod for going all out on the declarative voice as Mr. Book, the ostensible leader of the Strangers.

In a way, I wish that the movie was a little bit more cryptic about the Strangers and the strange goings on of Dark City. It is a compelling story, but some of the interactions between the Strangers and John feel like they're meant to come as more of a twist than they are. That could, of course be my storytelling dork brain that's a bit faster to pick up things than what is perhaps reasonable to expect.

It's also interesting to me that for a movie that deals with memory and identity, Dark City comes up kind of agnostic about what role memory plays in our personality. Like yes, Murdoch is driven by what fragments of his memories he possesses, but the memories that allow him to reach his full potential and ultimately defeat The Strangers are every piece as synthetic as the implanted memories he left behind. It isn't him returning to a "true" self as much as Kiefer Sutherland giving him memories of using his alien superpowers for decades as a desperate hail-mary. If this movie came out a few years later, I'd call it evocative of the Matrix, in that the fakeness of "reality" becomes a pivotal part of its unmaking

That said, the love between John and his wed-by-memory wife Emma, played by the always radiant Jennifer Connelly, seems to be real enough, and it is a quest for a more genuine existence than the dark drab pantomime that drives the plot. It does end up as a somewhat muted thing about human nature, granted, as John does come dangerously close to the old canard about Love Making Us Human. That said, I recognize that it isn't always about the destination. It is, I would say, very true to the beating heart of Sci-Fi that the movie tries to land the heady journey it has taken us to, however clumsy the attempt.

So that's Dark City for you. Strange, in the way few movies are allowed to be these days, ambitious, in the way good Sci-Fi is, gorgeous, in that consciously stylized way only movies can get. Give it a look if you happen to have ignored my advice wrt spoilers in the intro. It is, after all, only human to be curious.

[sentientgopro]

Hey y'all, not exactly active on here, especially when talking about myself, but I really need to get some shit off my chest right now. I had a couple realisations yesterday that culminated in some shit I never thought I would be saying or thinking.

I never thought I could be anything but straight. I liked women, so I mustve been straight. Im definately an advocate for everyone giving their gender true consideration, even when most will come out the other side cis, and confidently so, as did I.

Then I realised I didn't like women in the way most straight guys do. Afer clearing up some prior misconceptions about Aromanticism and asexuality, I realised those two labels fit me perfectly. But sometimes I wonder why I still feel a certain way about girls. There's just something about the way they look that's appealing to me, even if I dont find girls attractive...

Oh shit. That wasn't attraction. That was envy.

So that train of thought kind of went from 0 to 10 real fucking fast. This realisation brought to my attention feelings that Ive had for a good while, but have passed off as r/196 induced brainrot. Besides, and this is the biggest thing that stopped me realising this earlier, I dont feel that who I am now is wrong. I look in the mirror, and I see myself. But I've only recently kinda grasped the concept that being trans isn't all about dysphoria, having dysphoria is not always the way to tell. Although I dont think being a man is wrong, fucking hell, being a girl would be much better. And it feels so fucking weird actually typing that.

But what I'm saying is, atleast for the time being, I could manage to just not do anything. Which is for the better seeing as my parents would start screaming at me for saying anything remotely in the direction of being an ally. And I live on TERF Island. Transitioning would be an absolute pain in the ass, especially right now, so it kinda feels like why bother when the way I am doesnt really feel wrong. Transitioning could be quite dangerous and have big risks, it kinda just feels like I dont need that shit in my life, Im already running on fumes and a list of people I need to outlive. I usually hold a mindset of "if it ain't broke, don't fix it", but this usually applies to binary things, like if my team wins using the same strat a few times in a row in CS, "Do it again, ain't broke, don't fix", but this is not nearly as binary as that, this isn't a win/loss.

Something that is both comforting and a little concerning is that no matter what, there is atleast a 2 year hold on this. I should be able to go to uni after that and start living my own life, but as of right now, doing something like transitioning is NOT an option. Ive got a 2 year long planning phase and Ive kinda just been taking stock tbh. I don't think "that" period of my life hit too hard, Im still skinny (Yeah, ik skinny =/= feminine but its better than being buff imo) kinda fuckin tall, if my growth follows the same as my brother did which it is so far Im gonna be like 6'3 by the end of that 2 years (6'1 now) so thats probably gonna be more of a mild annoyance than a genuine problem. My voice varies ALOT, I can have a pretty damn low voice, and a bit of a higher pitch, it naturally varies, I normally find I talk in a higher pitch when I'm happier and lower when Im trying to appear more... normal? idk, theres probably somrthing to think about in that.

Honestly idk, theres no real end point to this, I just wanted to talk about this somewhere. As much as I never saw myself being in this position, I use r/196, play ULTRAKILL, and Study Computer Science and want to continue it as a career path, cmon, it was only ever a matter of time, this was inevitable.

[i3ee]

I’m really fucking tired.

Everyone’s got their own hurdles, it isn’t easy for anyone and for me I just feel I was put on this earth, cursed. There’s always something happening, whole life’s been a complete sick fucking joke.

I just feel like if we’re in a simulation, I’m that NPC that always gets picked on. If God created me, he must hate me, the most feasible scenario I find, is that we live only in chaos. Everything’s a complete fucking mess, there’s no order to anything, we as humans have formed civilisations, capitalism, laws and all that just to make sense and give structure to how chaotic everything really is. Some people live lives of extreme bad luck, others have it way, way worse than I do, people live in the middle of warzones, famine, poverty. Life is nothing but chaos and not worth living in my opinion.

Had a terrible upbringing, never loved as a child. Abused physically, mentally and sexually. As that was childhood, I grew up as a needy people pleaser and I find I’m always putting others’ wants before my own needs and allowing people to walk all over me. People could push me out the way and I’d be the one to say sorry to them, and I absolutely hate that about myself but that’s how I was “raised” I don’t know how else to be. I was never shown any respect growing up, not even as a human. I felt like a burden, pushed and shoved constantly, there was never an “excuse me.” It was always “MOVE! YOU’RE IN MY WAY!!” Is that how you speak to your children? Do you really think raising them that way will make them successful adults?? I was never allowed out, never had toys, wasn’t allowed to watch TV, couldn’t have hobbies outside of STEM subjects, never had a loving, nurturing mother or father figure, my brother did. The golden first born that gets everything. All the toys, all the love and even to this day at 32 years old, I still envy that. Why me? Why do I have to live this cunt of a life.

I still don’t know how to fully grasp life. Even now, every day it’s just one shit thing after another. Essentially I was trained, not raised, trained as a servant to do my parents chores and threatened with beats, stabs, fire whatever they could grab if I didn’t do their laundry or dishes or whatever their pleasure.

Where there should have been love there was only fear, sadness and pain. That’s how I was controlled. As a child I remember asking my mother for a balloon in McDonald’s, one of the ones on that plastic stick. My mother’s response was “yeah get it so I can beat you with it.” I put it back but when we left she double backed, got a balloon and subsequently whipped me with that stick when we got home. The mental abuse, the name calling the putting down was the worst. She called me stupid and worthless more than she said my name at any given point in my childhood through to 21 when I ran away. The words forever etched in my brain and I still hear them randomly from time to time as they haunt my adulthood. It takes me back, I remember her anger, the pink pyjamas she was wearing, where I was sat on the floor cross-legged as she stood towering over me. Words like “No, actually you’re not stupid, I’m stupid because I gave birth to you.” This was my Childhood, It was just constant and exhausting. On top of everything I had a brother, who took it upon himself to ensure I was to bullied, beaten, spat on at every chance he got. When we were kids, he’d pin me down when I was in bed and rub his dick on me until he was satisfied.

But oh no wait, there’s more! Life then decided to fucking fuck me even more and give me cancer, 4 fucking times and with each time I managed to pick myself up and jump the hurdle, but I’m not seeing the finish line anywhere, after the fourth relapse I’m just exhausted.

I’m in a profession where I’m not valued where there was no sick pay, no holiday pay, no benefits which meant during my sickness it was extremely financially difficult, and it’s just… FUCKING FRUSTRATING. I have 0.62p to my name as I type this as my employer is being shady as fuck and has been irregular with pay, I don’t think I can handle anymore. I really don’t. I researched that helium is the best way to go.

You keep hearing other people’s stories how they came from a dark place and now they thrive. I’m thinking no matter how hard I try, maybe for some people it just doesn’t get better. I think I’m doomed until I’m on my deathbed.

Fuck this shit.

[creaturebehavior]

not to switch up the tone but i kind of wish i had a reason to live lol Like outside of hurting 3 people by my nonexistence there’s nothing i care about and there’s nothing to live for. there’s nothing to look forward to. feels like i really only have two directions to choose in life and they both sound awful. there’s either get worse or work to get better and both those things have tried to kill me and well my brain just really wants me dead and whatever.

what is there to strive for? like i have no idea anymore.

first i thought i always wanted to be a parent, then reality hit me and i realized i’m not equipped and probably never will be equipped to be a parent so i had to ditch that dream.

i also thought i wanted to be a cosmetologist but i learned i cant stand interacting with people to that capacity. i wanted to stick it out and try to graduate and i had this dream of creating a niche environment where someone can come in to get their hair done and they don’t have to worry about being social they can just relax and enjoy the service and i also wanted to create a space that was accessible and friendly to disabled people including children who struggle with getting their hair cut or washed for whatever their reason may be, including sensory reasons because that’s something that i obviously can relate to. But that’s all too big for me too. I’m not mature enough or responsible enough for that either. and I’m just not cut out for being a hair stylist. I had no idea how hard it would be to interact with so many strangers. And to try to learn all these incredibly hard skills and techniques all at the same time? I just couldn’t do it. i couldn’t do it. I became so stressed and so burnt out dealing with my mental health and school all at the same time i stopped being able to learn. or think. i would forget what was happening while i was doing it. i would forget what i was saying mid sentence. i couldn’t focus. i couldn’t retain anything anyone taught me. On top of this my school’s environment was so toxic, and my friends were toxic all they wanted to do was gossip that’s all we ever did was talk shit about everyone else and i was so scared to get picked on i picked on everyone else behind their back because i was so insecure i turned into this toxic person full of hate and bitterness and insecurity and envy and it started to eat me alive from the inside out. and i became so paranoid everyone was talking about me. it was insane. And with all that going on there was the revolving door of staff. everyone kept quitting and getting fired left and right. It was so stressful to try to learn from a new person constantly it was like i couldn’t grasp onto everything. and the added stress of the administration turnover and how poorly everything was handled with our paperwork and our hours we all got so fucked over and treated like shit all the meanwhile by staff. they changed directors and the enrollment person three or four different times, each, within one year. plus the whole thing that happened how they handled the blood spill situation. and how they handled it when my best school friend got sexually harassed by a client that had been repeatedly sexually harassing students, how they fucking handled that situation after their fake sexual harassment awareness fucking seminar they made us sit through then my best friend got sexually harassed suddenly “you can come to us with anything, our main priority is to keep our students safe” turns out to be a big fat lie

i just can’t go back to that school. the more i think about it every day i just can’t find any good reason to go back. i don’t even like hair like i used to anymore. which fucking sucks. like i still like it obviously. but it does not feel like a passion anymore which i guess is fine. that’s okay. Like that’s life i guess. you get over stuff. Even sometimes you get over your dreams.

But it’s like well now what.

[dienamights]

Unfavorable Guidance | H.Shinso

​✎ Mindjack has been doing these kind of jobs since he was recruited as a hero, he is unmistakingly the best at them, doesn’t need anyone butting their noses in his business, especially you, the sly fox in disguise, offering your tainted helping hand.

✎ Protagonists: Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 6.4K

✎Category: noncon/dubcon, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

✎Caution(!):  noncon/dubcon, Smut 18+ MDNI please, , mentions of alcohol, mentions of murder, minor character death, sex under quirk use, spitting, degrading, swearing, manipulation, unprotected sex. 

✎ Author’s notes: I KNOW I’M LATE EUFGKHDFVBDFXL, but here is my contribution to @daisy-bakugo​ 2k event Vice City! Please take the time to read everyone’s work if you haven’t! Thank you so much for letting me participate.

I listened to this throughout the entire process of writing it, if you’re familiar with Kingdom Hearts, some names will ring a bell to you lol. also I hate the header and the summary but you’re just gonna have to live w it for now cause its 8 am I NEED SLEEP

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The annual auction of Vice City is one of the biggest social events of the year. The wealthiest families and richest people in the world come from everywhere in attempts to win what is secretly considered the greatest treasures of all time. Greatest and most expensive.

Alas, the after party held later on is what people are all secretly actually waiting for, where the most exquisite and rarest artifacts of the year get auctioned off to whoever is lucky enough to even be included in the guest list.

While not all are there for the auctions, it certainly is the perfect opportunity for anyone who's anyone in the world to show off their wealth. Filthy rich people sway all around, laughing and bragging. Venetian crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, gambling, and alcohol. Men with their cigars, men with their wives, and men with their arm candies, their escorts or mistresses.

Yet, Shinso isn’t here for the luxury, he isn't here for the fame and the fortune, nor the reputation people thrive for when they buy those - meaningless, he calls them - relics. No, he is here on a mission, one he certainly wants to be done and over with because he wants to go home. He loosens his tie with an aggravated sigh before knocking back the last of his only gin and tonic, the bitter taste prickling his throat as he surveys the crowd of people all around him while he stands idly by the bar.

He knew it’d be a pain in the ass the second he got the mission assigned to him from the agency, the words “intel” and “Vice City'' of all places forced a frown upon his face, yet, being the most suitable for this job, he couldn't really decline.

Mindjack isn’t the type of hero you see on billboards and magazines, isn’t the type of hero to kiss babies’ heads that get thrusted at him in meet and greets, he certainly isn’t one to have those adoring fan clubs that follow his every move, posting about his greatest conquests. Oh no, he is a hero that works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, undercover -lie through your teeth throughout the whole ordeal- kind of hero, the kind of hero that goes home at the end of his missions with no gratitude towards his work, because nobody knows who he is or what he contributes to the society.

For the longest time, Shinso accepted the life he’s living, he didn’t look for validation from the citizens, knowing his work is always beyond the scope of their knowledge and their awareness, but sometimes, just sometimes, the sour droplets of envy would foul his mouth when his amethysts for eyes scan over the extravagant heroes, making a show out of saving their cities and getting praised and awarded and loved for doing what they’re supposed to be doing, their job. 

“Squeeze that glass a bit more and you’d break it”

A voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him, Shinso blinked twice before his eyes dragged over to you, oh so beautiful and oh so close. Your nimble fingers wrapped around his fingers, the lacey glove lightly scratches his hand before he lets go of the glass in surprise, dropping it into yours. You giggle sweetly, turning around to place it on the bar before ordering your own, but not without looking at him over your shoulder and sending him a smile.

“What will it be, sugar tits?” the bartender leans over the counter, towel thrown on his shoulder as he sends you what's supposed to be a sultry look. Your elbow is placed on the counter while you rest your chin on your hand, smiling temptingly at him. “Anything that’ll get you to stop staring at my boobs.” Shinso almost laughs at the contrast between your smile and your voice, sharp and venomous, and the man leans back so far from you like he’s been stung. Walking away to work on a drink for you.

Shinso’s eyes rake your body without his knowledge, he admires the dress adorning your body, hugging you in all the right places, cascading down to the floor, and that slit my god, your legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how you can strut so elegantly with them on. A snap of your fingers breaks his trance and he tries - keyword tries - to act nonchalant to his obvious ogling and you only laugh in return.

You hum lowly, “So,” you’re turning to face him as you lean back on the counter, pushing your chest out to grasp even more of his attention, “what's an esteemed hero like you doing in a place like this?” It takes Shinso a good minute before he narrows his eyes, left foot back and ready to either take you down or run away if you were to involve greater forces. No one is supposed to know about his true identity, no one is supposed to know that there is a hero within them.

But what shakes his demeanor is the way you dangle his wallet in front of him, like dangling a stupid feather for some silly cat, waiting for it to jump at you to entertain you. Shinso swallows with a struggle, deciding that using his quirk to retrieve his wallet back will lead to him leaving, and he didn’t want that. He’s been keeping an eye on the wanted man for hours now, and it’ll all go to waste because of your slimy little hands and your-

“Here,” you toss it back to him, and he stumbles a bit before catching it properly, eyeing you for any sudden movements, but you simply turn back around in time to hold the drink from the bartender’s hand with a smile dazzling your lips. “You’re getting intel on The Wise?” you mumble against your cup, sipping slowly, eyes never leaving Shinso’s glaring ones. How the fuck do you know?

“You’re not the first.” you smirk, finger wiping the smeared lipstick against the glass before circling the rim. “You all look the same, thinking you’re better than them because of your position in the society, only for that ego to come and bite you right in the ass.” It’s almost ironic how poisonous your voice could get while still maintaining that mesmerizing smile, and oddly enough, Shinso’s eyes keep drooping despite his desperate attempt to fight against them.

You hum again, the click of your heels sounding muffled to him, eyes blurring when you get so close to him your breath tickles his cheek. “But you’re different, hmm? You’re gonna make the bad guy go away?” 

“Yes.” it's rushed, almost desperate, and the hero is astonished at how he sounds. “Then, lemme help you… Hitoshi.”

A blink, and you’re gone just like you vanished right from under his nose, slipped right between his fingers. A low curse escapes Shinso’s lips and he turns around swiftly to question the bartender, hell bent on getting any information on the girl that just revealed his entire identity and mission to him in a matter of seconds. 

“How can I help you, sir?” the question boggles his mind, the big burly man with an attitude problem wasn’t there anymore, replaced by another sweet woman that held concern in her eyes at his sight. “You’ve been staring at the wall for a while there, need me to call your driver to get you back?” 

“Wa- but I- She,” Shinso’s body started heating up in anger, worry, embarrassment, he doesn’t really know, but what he wants to know right this instant is how long he’s been out of it and for god’s sake, why?

Shinso doesn’t really consider himself to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but dammit did he feel like a complete idiot letting you run off like that, a quick trip to the restroom for a splash of water clears his head enough for him to pull back his wallet from his pocket, flipping through it and finding something he was absolutely sure wasn’t there prior to your visit. A silver card, with ‘Surveillance room’ scribbled on a note behind it.

Caving in and accepting whatever help you were offering him, Shinso slides the card through the reader, sighing in relief upon the satisfying ding sound, followed by the door opening to the surveillance room.

“Now that’s what’m talking about.” life got so much easier now that he could watch The Wise through multiple screens, making it hard to miss a single move of his. The hero allows himself to relax a bit, hand messing with his hair and tired eyes blinking in irritation against the glare of the screens. The Wise was the mastermind of Organization XIII, as their name intel, they’re consisting of the same thirteen members that founded it years ago, nobody really knows how they started, what shocked the whole world is how grand their first crime actually was, bloodbath of the century -they would call it, seventeen slaughtered heroes, followed by their families, including women and children, thousands of millions of ¥ in money laundering atop of it, all within a span of 4 months, that was years ago, back in their prime.

Now, with eight of them behind bars, the remaining five were able to stay under the radar, distributing whatever money they were able to keep between them and fleeing to different parts of the world. Just because they were apart, didn’t mean they were any less dangerous, The Wise is a prime example for that, brutally murdering three of the undercover heroes sent his way to bring him back to justice, but they weren’t Shinso, he’d try to remind himself.

May their soul rest in peace, they were those heroes he felt dissociated from, the type of heroes to flaunt their powers, monetize the peoples’ knowledge of their quirks, uncover the secrets of their job, they were easy targets for people like The Wise, he’d know their weaknesses and how to take them down before they even think about pursuing him. Now, Mindjack was a different story, he wasn’t held on a pedestal by the people he saves, simply because they don’t recognize him, while he would loath that reality sometimes, he thanks the god for it today, as he’s watching the man’s call out for a drink.

Amethyst eyes scan the remaining screens, widening upon the sight of you looking right back at them, you are a vixen to him, eyes half lidded with a smile so intoxicating it does nothing but entrance whoever was lucky enough to catch its sight. Lace clad fingers wrapping around a piece of paper, you are so beautiful, Shinso tries to stop his mind from wandering, imagining what you wore underneath that angel crafted dress, envisioning what those fingers could do to please him, the same fingers that held the unfolded paper, the word ‘RUN’ smeared across it in lipstick.

Wait a minute, run?

Even before the poor hero could react, the similar satisfying -now dreadful- ding rings in his ear, before the door opens behind him, illuminating the room even more. Shinso stands to face two men, both as surprised as he is to see another occupant in the room. Right before any of them move, the hero opens his mouth and prays to god that whatever way he’s winging it works. “You got a permit to be here?”

Jesus one of you answer, and they both do - the left having fingers curving into talons while the right pulled at strings from the tips of his fingers, both ready to attack - and by god Shinso couldn’t be happier upon hearing a sound, because the minute the word ‘yes’ slips through their lips, Mindjack is smiling like a madman, welcoming the look of glossy eyes and heavy heads like a beloved relative’s return back home. 

“Great… Now,” the two manipulated  men face him, unaware of the dreaded fate bestowed upon them, while Shinso just can’t seem to keep the glint in his eyes at bay. “Why don’t you put on a show for me,” he breathes, smiling down at the ground before looking at them. ”Choke the fucking life out of each other.” The men don’t even blink, quick to face each other and jump, hands wrapped around throats like a vice, Shinso only moves away from the men on the floor as they thrash and kick at each other, limbs flailing as they try to force the life out of each other.

Turning his back against them, Shinso eyes the screen he was monitoring before their entrance, ignoring the groans and gasps of air behind him. He curses under his breath when he sees The Wise getting up from his place, heading towards a room that is supposed to be monitored by screen #6, but is purposely out of service. If he isn’t able to question The Wise or even keep an eye on him, then he’s gonna head on over to the next best thing. Gargled screams echo through the corridor as the hero makes his exit, making sure the door clicks shut behind him, he wouldn’t want to cause disturbance to the esteemed guests of the society of lowlifes.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, killing machines that didn’t spare the live of the innocents, so why should he spare theirs? 

Shinso makes it back to the main event, immediately finding you between guests, sitting so pretty on the poker table, eyes drawing him closer, the grin adorning your lips now wobbly, easy for him to distinguish as fake, forced, a façade kept for the people surrounding the table. He is hasteful in settling himself in the chair near you, shoulders tense when different pairs of eyes fall upon him, the dealer shuffles the deck to draw cards for Shinso, but you hold your hand out with a smile. “He’ll sit this one out, by my lucky onlooker.” A round of laughter causes Shinso to flush in embarrassment, feeling degraded and looked down upon by all these lowlifes, petty thieves and criminals, thinking they’re better than him, oh he’ll show them.(1)

It takes a few rounds for the table to empty out, now occupied by Shinso and yourself, the dealer asks him to move over to the next chair before they start their game. “Place your bets.” you’re quick to slide over a few of your chips to his side - some black, others red and blue, he didn’t really pay that much attention to them- your eyes daring him to reject your invitation to take the money to play.

He only blinks at you, his eyes seemingly never wanting to lose sight of you as he fights with himself to sit straight to face the dealer again, the man proceeds to deal both of you the cards for you to review before placing your bets. “You tricked me.” Shinso is almost appalled at the hurt laced in his voice, as if the two of you had a bond that was never meant to be broken. “don’t believe so, told you to run didn’ I?” The mockery in your voice is a hoax, the single twitch in your brow catches his attention and he can only deem it as you being stressed, whether it be because of the ordeal regarding the surveillance room or not is beyond him. No, he was stupid and foolish and he will not fall for your silly games again. “Exactly, you knew they were coming.” you hum in response to his accusation.

“Call.” Dropping a few of your chips on the table, your eyes shift momentarily to him, “I did, I said I’d help you and here I am.” He slams his bet on the table, ‘Raise’ gritted right through his teeth at your words. “I don’t want your help!” He reveals his cards on the table, a way to show his disinterest in your assistance as the dealer announces ‘Flush’ at his hand. Your eyes meet again from above your cards, now narrowing down instead of the half lidded look you seem to always have “You don’t want it, but you need it.” The façade you held before is slowly but surely breaking, now a deep frown tugging at your lip as you reveal your own hand, brows furrowing even further in challenge as you hum in displeasure when the dealer announces your ‘Full House’ hand to be the winner of this round.(2)

Shinso moves swiftly to stand when he sees you do the same, right before his entire world starts to spin, lights and colors mingling together and causing his head to spin, he sits down again, head between his hands as he tries to calm himself down, it's probably the strain of the mission, maybe it’s the weight bestowed upon his shoulders to finish it up. The hero lifts his head up to ask you, about something he himself isn’t even sure of, he just wants to hear your voice, like a drug to him that he can’t help but ask for more. Except when he does, you aren’t there, the table is occupied by different people, the dealer is another man with longer hair and slimmer figure, and by god did Shinso want to rip his hair out.

The minute he feels like he could get back on his own to feet without falling down on his ass, Hitoshi is quick to check his pockets, adamant to find a clue your sneaky hands slid into one of his pockets while he was out, despite the tantrum he almost threw at not wanting your help nor guidance, and he does find something, a simple metal key, attached to it was a tag with the number XIII on it. 

In his shock, he almost drops the key on the ground but barely holds himself together to avoid any further embarrassment, Shinso takes deep breaths, knowing that the key in his possession is his entry to the heart of the organization, and especially to The Wise. 

Every year, specifically at the Vice City annual auction afterparty, The Wise holds a meeting with the most dangerous men within the continent, the most loathsome masterminds of the criminal world, all in the hopes of recruiting one of them into the organization, to uphold its name and spread its message. Every year, with no recruitment yet. 

With trembling hands, Shinso stuffs the key back into his pocket, eyes on the lookout for anyone who might’ve caught the key in his hand, but sighs in relief when he sees some engrossed in their meaningless poker and absurd talks, while the majority have made their way to the next hall over for the auction that is being held. He takes the stairs three at a time up the floors, facing a red oak double door, the same forsaken number engraved into it. After multiple failed attempts at inserting the key in the lock, he finally does with a huff, hearing the lock echoing in his ears before pushing the door open.

To be honest, Shinso didn’t know what he was expecting to see on the other side of the door, he thought maybe he’d watch weaponry trade off, perhaps people brawling and fighting amongst each other for the title of being the new members. But he certainly didn’t expect to be engulfed in jazz music, men with their cigars laughing and chatting, without a single care in the world, as if their hands weren’t tainted with the blood of the innocents, oh how he loathed them. In an attempt to fit in, he grabs a glass of whiskey from the butler standing by the door, nodding to him in thanks before moseying his way over to the corner in the room, he’d be damned if he got caught in the crossfire of those lunatics.

A stage is set up in the front of the room, and it takes a second for him to acknowledge the pole placed right at its center, it takes him another few seconds to see the beauty dancing on that pole, Shinso’s eyes rake her body without his knowledge, he admires the lingerie adorning her body, hugging her in all the right places, garter snug against her thighs as she twirls, her legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how she can dance so elegantly with them on… wait a minute. 

As if predicting the minute he realized it was you, you twirl to face him, lips pulled into a smile yet again, a giggle interrupting your humming as your body twists and turns on the pole. Shinso isn’t really sure how long he sits there captivated by your body, the only thing breaking his trance is the clap on his back and the heavy weight that sits next to him. “Beauty, isn’t she?”

Bile rises to Shinso’s throat at the mere sound of the person next to him, fear stills him in his place, restricting any movement he’s even thinking of doing, all he could do is sit, widened eyes and sweaty brows at the sight of The Wise right beside him. 

“Don’cha love it when women like her,” The Wise points at you with his cigar, “work to please men like us?” His arm now completely wrapped around Shinso’s shoulder as the hero feels his soul levitating from his body. “Look aroun’ya,” and he does, and only then does he really pay attention, he should’ve seen it all along, the glossy eyes, the droopy heads, it's a sight he was so well accustomed to that his brain normalized it to him. With whatever courage he musters up, he shifts his eyes to look at the man beside him, noticing the ear plugs he wore, and right then the gears start to turn in his head. “My most prized possession I tell’ya.” 

Of course you would be, how else would you have access to all these things, the card, the key, the vanishing from thin air, it all makes sense now.

“Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?” your words are flowing like honey to his ears, a low buzz ringing in his brain as you spoke to the men in front of you. His ability to frown is nonexistent, a relaxed look adorning his face as he looks up at you, so elegant and beautiful in whatever hugged that miracle of a body.

“Sure are,” The Wise jerks Shinso by the shoulder, and he realizes that was done to break whatever trance he was in, he could only glare back at you when you smile at them, that conniving smile that hosted all the lies you spouted to him.

“y/n,” He calls you and by God if this isn’t the most beautiful name Shinso ever hears, what a shame it's being tainted by the voice of this criminal. “Wadda ya say to takin’ this fine boy to the red room, hm?” The man urges him to stand and take your hand, which he did at the blink of an eye, his body moving on it’s own to graze his lips against your knuckles in a breathless kiss. “Treat’m real nice for me.” The hero’s feet take him to follow you, his steps light, like walking on clouds, the sway of your hips pulling him closer to you until his chest is flush against your back, pushing you to move faster into the room you are pointed towards.

Walking aimlessly through hallways, taking lefts and rights he would never be able to recollect in his current state, you both enter a room, red just like The Wise called it, crimson silk sheets fitted on a king sized bed, maroon loveseats and plush carpets, everything in that red hue that it's almost nauseating. 

Bringing your hands in a loud clap, the fogginess in Shinso’s vision dissolves, your creased brows and frown now more prominent to him than ever, his eyes catch the scar trailing from the back of your neck to your cleavage, confused as to why his usual perceptive self would miss it, but then again, he doesn’t feel like he was ever himself throughout this whole ordeal.

To say he was furious is an understatement, he never felt more played in his life, he is Mindjack, the most conniving hero of all of Japan, he was manipulative and sly , known by his people to get jobs done, no matter who his opponent is, he always comes back victorious. And when his ears pick up your sigh of relief, he could only see red, he is hurt, he is scared, but now its his act, his turn to fuck shit up, he wants to hurt, he wants to scare.

“Fuckin’ lying bitch,” It takes him all but two steps for his body to graze yours, tantalizing eyes boring down into yours as you gasp at the close proximity, “you were workin’ with’em this entire fuckin’ time?”

“N-no that’s not it,” you stutter, flustered at his overwhelming presence, trying to put some distance between you and the fuming man by pushing his chest, “Please, I need you to listen to me.” 

“Oh, now you’re beggin’ hmm?” his firm warm hands circle your wrists, tugging them away from his body and using them to pull you even closer to him, his breath now grazing the tops of your cheeks, “Didn’t your boss tell you to treat me right?” he breathes, “well, get to it, slut.”

“That’s not what this is Hitoshi, just listen-” for the love of all that’s pure in this world, why does the sound of his name exceed his perception of how happiness is supposed to reverberate in his ear? “Keep my name outta your mouth, or I swear,” He hisses at you, the grip on your wrists tightening as you whimper out in pain. 

“You think you can just toy with me? Have me running around and following your orders like a lil bitch!?” He sees you trembling, lips wobbly and in tears, how ironic, he doesn’t know a few words would get you to start tearing up, the change in demeanor from when he first met you confuses him for a second, but only a second, because he’ll be damned if he falls for any of your tricks anymore. “N-no, I swear it isn’t like that, just p-please, please c-calm down! Let me explain myself-” the ugly cackle he lets out shuts you up, teary eyes widening as they fall on his, the aura he’s radiating is terrifying to say the least, your knees shaking in dread at what’s about to fold.

“You think you can play my game and win?”

It takes you a minute to answer, the word no echoing in your head, throbbing in your brain so painfully you forget the words that follow it, but what you can’t forget, what you will never forget, no matter how delirious you feel, is the look of pure sin across Shinso’s face, grin rivaling that of the Cheshire cat, because you were now simply a measly little pawn in his game. 

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, criminals that broke every law in their way to get what they desire, so why couldn’t he indulge even a little himself? 

He lets go of your wrists, watching as your arms sway next to your body like dead weight before he turns around to flop down on the loveseat, legs spread wide as he waves his hand over to you.

“Waddaya waitin’ for,” he knows you can’t answer him, but it feels so fucking good to hold such power over you after all you’ve put him through. “Now, strip.” the surge of power he feels jolts his dick up in excitement as he watches you take off your lingerie, moves robotic and forced, eyes glazed over both with tears and his control over your dumb little brain. Hitoshi is no villain, he is a respectable hero, but he’s been called that all his childhood, he might as well live up to that expectation, one way or another.

Shinso stands when you’re fully naked in front of him, long legs circling you and taking you all in, the back of his hand grazes your nipple and he all but groans as it pebbles at his touch. But god, he was nowhere near being done with you.

“Spread your legs for me on that bed,” he grins at the way you follow his orders even before he asks, “will ya?” you settle yourself on the bed before slowly dropping your weight on your back, hazy eyes staring up into the ceiling as your arms bring themselves down to circle the back of your knees, pulling them up close to your chest to expose yourself to him. 

Shinso’s cock twitches in his pants again at the opportunity to just seath it into you without any warning, but he barely holds himself back, approaching your body and feeling himself salivating at the sight, what a sight it is, your pussy looking so fucking beautiful clenching over nothing, the sight tempting him to just dive his face right in to get a taste of your juices.

Taking off his suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of his shirt, Shinso presses his thumb to your clit, frowning when he notices how dry you are, of course you would be, he chuckles to no one, puckering his lip to spit right at the nub, watching it trail down to your clenching hole, the sight igniting a flame within him, he does it again, simply to watch your spit hide in your cunt, impatient to follow suit and bury himself in there. 

His thumb is quick to draw circles with your clit, needing for your orgasm to wash over you quickly, eager for the things he’d do to you after he preps you enough to take him. The usual comforting silence is thick between you, no moans escaping your ajar mouth as your arousal seeps out of your pussy, he prods your hole with his finger to collect your nectar, smearing it across your clit again to rub even faster against it.

The only indication of you coming undone is when your thighs start to shake, your body curling in on itself as your back arches, your cunt gushing on his fingers, and Shinso is almost disappointed to not hear you moan out his name in pleasure. But he isn’t that disheartened, he’s bound to hear you scream.

You on the other hand, are petrified at the way your body is being handled, feeling yourself looking down at the horror being folded in front of you, this isn’t you, this is a shell of who you are, wrapped around his finger, at his mercy, and you want out, no matter the cost. But, you are to regret these words, because you see him unbuckling his belt, you hear the zipper drilling in your ear, and you watch him lay atop you, feeling your lungs constrict at the weight settling upon it, and to your utmost terror, the only thing that breaks his bind on you is when you feel his warm head prodding at your entrance, right before seething completely in, your throat prickling when you wail hoarsely in pain at feeling like being split into two.

“No, nonononon, st-stop please, please!” You’re crying, legs thrashing and arms flailing trying to push this monster off of you, but you can’t, you think as your walls pulsate in pain at the intrusion, you’ll never be able to with him placing his entire weight on you like that, and the way he pulls out before impaling you again has you seeing stars in the worst way possible. Desperate for an escape, you grab a chuck of his hair, your nails digging into his scalp before you yank, your jaw throbbing at how tight you clench your teeth in pain and disgust and pure panic. The strength you muster to pull his head up is in vain, because it only jerks his face deeper into your neck, right where your scar trails, and he bites, so hard you’re certain it draws blood. 

Only then does he lift his head up, his upper lip smeared with a smidge of blood, your blood, before he spits right into your mouth. Sick to your stomach at the metallic taste invading your taste buds, you spit right up at him, mindless to the debris falling right back at your face, your mascara running down your cheeks as you sneer up at him. Even as he laughs teasingly at you.

“Don’t worry slut,” He rasps, his nose brushing against yours as his thrusts find a pace, pulling out to the tip before pushing himself fully inside, “It’ll feel good in a minute.” and it does, he feels more of your arousal coating his cock as he snaps his hips against yours, your wails and whimpers slowly yet surely are coated more with lust as you moan out his name. “See tha’, almost too easy…” almost too good to be true.

And it is, because when his eyes struggle to find yours, he is reminded by the feeling that overtook him this entire evening, and when he sees the corner of your lips pull lightly does he want to rip your head right out, but the minute he moves his hand, he is overwhelmed by how wobbly he feels, how your face distorts and misshapes before he is met with the sight of the ceiling, the sight you grew accustomed to when he was taking advantage of your unconsciousness. 

He groans when he feels you impaling yourself on his cock, pussy clenching so tight as you bop yourself up and down his shaft, your tits bouncing with you as he looks up at you, so mesmerized and entranced by your beauty all he does is hold your hips, helping you lift yourself up before dropping you on him, the squelching sound that follows it music to his ears.

You plant your hands against his chest, hips rolling as you pant at his lips, both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other and chasing your highs, “You gonna listen to me, when I ask you to?” His hand claps against your ass at your question, “Yes, yes oh God, anythin’ just don’t stop.” He can’t help but want more of you, want to feel his cock push against you even further, so he plants his feet firm against the bed, hand grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts thrusting up at you, moaning against your neck when he shoots ropes of his cum inside of your sopping cunt, squeezing him so tight and milking him, and all of what Shinso remembers is the way you arch your back, pressing your chest against his as your whimper out his name, as he feels your juices dripping against his balls and down on the sheets beneath you. After that, all he could see was black.

Shinso awakes startled, eyes darting in alarm before he relaxes when he confirms he’s alone, the red silky sheets now draped over his lower body, pooling at his lap when he sits up to look around once more, desperate for any sign of you. Yet he only sees a brown folder on top of the love seat, impressively thick with the amount of papers stacked inside it, and when Shinso reaches for it, he catches the note that slipped off and draped down on the floor, reading it and scowling at it. ‘You promised you’d listen’

And boy is he more than lucky to listen to you when you asked him to. Because that folder has every tiny little detail he needs to know about The Wise, from the quirks of his circulating bodyguards to the keys to his multiple homes within the world. Pictures upon pictures of the man, decoded letters and basically intel on his entire criminal record.

Fucking finally, Shinso gets to just go home no that everything’s over and done with.

Limited Edition Sneak Peek:

It is way too early for Shinso, the sun glaring at him as he makes his way into the agency, the honking cars and chattering people feeding into his migraine so early in the morning, and he groans as he pushes his door open, ready to get back to his regular routine after the incident at Vice City.

It hasn’t been even a week, but it sure was eventful, using the folder you left him, Mindjack was able to capture The Wise the very next day, via the map of the routes he takes that was attached in the folder. They were able to ambush him, easily being able to bring the right heroes for the job to overcome the quirks of both his workers and himself. Now the mastermind of Organization XIII was behind bars, making the job of catching the remaining members now much easier.

It almost felt like child’s play, at least, that’s what the heroes made it out to be, flexing their powers and their potential, when they were well aware that all their efforts would’ve been in vain if you and your folder weren't there to aid them in every step.

To say that guilt ate him up is an understatement, he feels himself decaying from the inside out from resentment, he figures he spent too much time in the dark, that it started to mess with him, manipulate him, carve him into someone he isn’t, someone that isn’t fit to be a hero. He feels like was walking into a tunnel with no way out, engulfed and trapped in pure merciless darkness, that ate away at his soul every step he took further in.

Shinso trudges up the stairs with a heavy heart, the dread at what he did to you, especially that your intent to help him didn’t waver despite his actions loomed over him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he didn’t deserve the life that he’s living in right now. 

Yet, the saying ‘there's a light at the end of the tunnel’ rings in his ear, the minute he opens up the door to his office, eyes widening at the sight before him, smile so dazzlingly sweet, a voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him as the words captivated him despite their simplicity.

“Missed me, Hitoshi?”

(1) its common in poker for women to be onlookers, like the wives of the players for example, the jab at him being an onlooker is basically just a sexist joke to make the people around the table laugh to ease their mind.

(2) to help gain more perspective about the poker scene you can read the elaboration here

Aaaand more about the reader’s quirk here!

Hope you enjoyed! Also, PLEASE if you could theorize with me after reading the fic I’d love you forever, ask me about the reader’s quirk, ask me about some hidden meanings between the scenes JUST ANYTHING. MWAH

Borrowers (taglist):

@hanji-is-life @anarchicmartyr @sleepykyan @yourprincess-maybe @wolfygirl1900 @tteokdoroki​

@theehoneybunii @nanamisbento​ (not sure if you wanted to be tagged for bakuhoe only of all my fics, so sorry if its the former!)

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

[boop-le-snoot]

marmalade taffy

Helmut Zemo smut & feels. Soft!Dom Zemo, non-superhero!AU, Zemo being the weird uncle of college!Maximoff twins. This was written on a whim so if someone signs up to beta-read, I will shower you with affection and reminders to drink water. The Reader is addressed as "you" and is not described - race/age/body type neutral. The language I used for Sokovian is actually Serbian. Word count 2,8k.

Fun fact: I have mild synesthesia. Emotions/feelings and some people have an assigned color (and sometimes smell) for me. That's how the name of the fic was born. This fic feels like the colors of marmalade and taffy, look them up. This fic is dedicated to my lovely @slothspaghettiwrites , the shining beacon in my misty, rocky beach. (You're a periwinkle for me, by the way. I thought you might ask.)

When you first see him all you do is raise an eyebrow. His sleek, well-maintained vintage car stands out almost grotesquely amongst the various sedans and mom vans on the campus and you can see the glint of his wristwatch even from afar. Wanda's and Pietro's sheepish smirk only makes the situation worse - the girl's attire obviously screams "liberal arts" and her twin brother doesn't seem to have anything better to wear than tracksuits.

The man behind the wheel is unfazed. He is calm and collected in that European way, not conceited, just waiting. For what? You don't know. His eyes trail over you but he doesn't smile, simply gives a tiny polite nod. If you hadn't had extensive conversations about cultural differences with Wanda, you'd say he was extremely rude.

Shy, quiet Wanda, who's eyes lit up seeing her favorite not-actually-uncle. In a surprising dash of energetic agility, she hopped right into the car, her numerous scarves a bright flash of saturation against the campus grayscale. You giggle and wave at the departing car, snorting when Wanda's hand reaches over to briefly honk the horn, causing the driver to swerve the tiniest bit, his eyes trained on you in the rearview mirror.

He comes and goes often. Almost always in a different perfectly restored vintage car, mostly with the same polite mask of bored contentment. You know he's royalty in his home country and can't help but wonder how frivolously the twins act around him - no, free. He gives all the appearance of a silent, strict man.

You're proven wrong rather quickly. Freshman year left behind you, you and Wanda decide to ditch the dorms for an apartment - she finds one rather quickly and it's just you two in it even though it is ridiculously huge and the rent amount she requests is equally ridiculously small. Not the one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and buy yourself a new pair of shoes.

Helmut - Wanda finally formally had introduced you two - doesn't come by often, however the visits are always... Eventful. He's not at all what it seemed to be; in the quiet of your apartment, a witty, incredibly clever man resurfaces from under the stoic façade. The Slav in him easily lets him consume alarming quantities of alcohol together with Pietro, who opted to stay in the dorms with his idiotic football team, and - you couldn't believe your eyes at the time - dorkily dad-dance squat in the middle of your living room, unfazed by your and Wanda's cackling.

The way Helmut is absolutely unbothered by the audience and the laughter, pale face flushed from the wine and a little smirk stretching his thin lips into expression almost catlike. The maroon turtleneck stretches nicely across his chest, as thinly as your lip that you worry between your teeth.

Pietro raises an eyebrow. You shrug.

"Got something in your eye, no?" He teases playfully and you shrug again, taking another swig of your nice, European beer.

There are more gatherings, more parties and quite a few rides in his car, when the wind blows your hair in all directions possible and intermingles it with Wanda's as you giggle and squeal in the back seat. Helmut always indulges you two; the word 'no' simply does not exist in that man's vocabulary. He insists politely but firmly on a dinner with all three of them on your birthday and the gifts he brings make your eyes pop out and your face heat.

"A woman like you makes any sensible man want to shower you with the finest gifts," Helmut's voice is quiet and his accent is thick and somehow, it makes it all that harder to refuse. He smiles like usual - tiny and a little secretive, as he pecks your cheek, filling the air around you with the smell of his cologne. It makes your mouth water and your fingers clench helplessly around the half a dozen of silk paper-wrapped boxes.

The summer rolls in and it's hot and humid and finally you don't have to worry about waking up at the crack of dawn or classes or the annoying boys who can barely take a no for an answer. The invitation to Helmut's villa doesn't come as a surprise; Wanda had been riled up over it since early May and Pietro and his whole damn football team were equally as thrilled.

You pack flowy dresses, daisy dukes and swimsuits. The expensive jewelry and handbag Helmut had gifted you, too, since the villa is surrounded by a whole neighborhood meant solely for the rich and famous. Wanda is absolutely unbothered by her own bohemian chic and you quietly envy her; the longer you get to know her, the more you realise of how much actually she does not give a fuck about anything besides her paintings and sculptures.

It's admirable, really, because she is talented. And Helmut knows it, too, having had collected and kept every single work Wanda had made, showing it off in the various rooms of his two-story mansion. The abstract fits in well and is a great conversation topic for him and his equally important friends. There's an endless stream of them in the first days and Wanda isn't overtly happy, choosing to run away to laze around the pool with you more often than not.

Helmut's friends stop at the glass wall between the inner side of the house and the pool to stare at you two, too, causing something dark and tense flash across his features. There always had been a sort of tangy obscurity in him, you've noticed, but not nearly enough for you to grow concerned. It added the bittersweetness, the flavour and consistency to the modest man.

Although calling him modest might have been a mistake. The moment you can't shake off one of his friends after a polite chit-chat seems to never end, Wanda nowhere in sight, dread and unease digging their sharp, spindly fingers in the soft flesh behind your rib cage, Helmut is suddenly there, arm wrapped almost possessively around your waist.

"Draga mea, Wanda is looking for you. She says it's urgent," He stares the man down with the eyes of a vulture. "I believe we haven't been properly introduced," Helmut seems to not realize he's still clutching you in a grasp of steel as the man opposite you rumbles out his name, few syllables you'd forgotten seconds after he spoke them for the first time.

"Baron Helmut Zemo," the fingers brush and squeeze once, gently, over the valley of your waist before letting go. You miss the rest of their peacocking, walking away with a fight and fire inside of your hammering heart. Anxiety and longing and confusion mix and blend, combining into a cocktail that has you beelining for the bar like a woman parched.

The next day you're sleeping off the hangover, first in your bed and then by the pool - Wanda had run off into town for one thing or another, and knowing her, she'd be back home at the crack of dawn. It was blissful peace, the soothing balm for your troubled heart and your aching head.

"Hungover?" Helmut's voice was quiet and a little bit teasing. None of the Eastern Europeans had ever showed the signs of having any ill effects from the alcohol they drunk, unlike you.

You stretched, too blissed out to care about the skimpy strings and straps of your bikini, basking in the gentle morning sun. "Mmm, not anymore," a swim in the cold pool had done wonders.

Your soft pink float rocked as Helmut's footsteps quieted, giving way to a short splash and the sound of his breathing somewhere in your space. Just as you cracked open your eyes, he reached out a hand to steady himself next to you. "I wanted to apologize for the situation yesterday. That man was stepping out of line. He is not welcome in my home anymore."

You stare at him and then you snort. The blunt was he usually speaks is so easy, it flows oh so effortlessly. No mind games, just honesty. You want to pay him back in kind. "Don't worry, Helmut. I just had a bit too much to drink," that was the truth. Any other time and you wouldn't have hesitated to unapologetically steer clear of any creep. Heat and bubbly don't mix and that was your own mistake.

"No, printsesa," the man in front of you let loose some of the delicious darkness, eyes growing stormy, hand gently resting over yours. "Some men are fools, they are nothing but animals. You deserve to feel safe, especially in my home." His lips stretched into a smile, water dripping down his jaw and making tiny circles form in the azure of the pool.

"I can't argue with that," you replied, catching the stray liquid and following the trails it made with your eyes. His forehead, dripping down over his eyes, making Helmut blink the stray drops away until they landed on his lips, trickling down his chin.

You swallowed, opting to dip your toes into the cool pool water before you could make a fool of yourself. The water splashed towards him, making a mischievous grin grace his usually serious face, as me made a half-hearted attempt to splash back weakly, making the water sizzle on your sun-kissed skin. Never the one to back down from a challenge, you knitted your eyebrows in mock offense, eagerly letting the water wash over you as you abandoned the float in favour of creating waves with your whole body.

The temperature contrast was delicious and Helmut's laugh even more so as it echoed in between the high walls of the building surrounding the pool. The sun was nearly at its peak, shining over your head in a beacon of heat that almost matched the one inside of you, the one that had blossomed there months ago and finally grew into a steady smolder, shooting sparks whenever you were around the baron.

It was hot and wet, the same feeling chasing you two when you finally kissed. His hand firmly planted on the side of your neck, his nose softly brushing against the underside of your jaw, Helmut was in no rush to taste you, to savour every millimeter of your sun-kissed skin. The man left you with your fingertips trembling and heart scrambling for purchase somewhere in the deepest pits of your belly.

"What are you so hungry for, mmm?" Helmut's voice rumbled next to the shell of your ear; you could barely focus, skin singing underwater, where he held onto you like a lifeline. "You have hungry eyes, ljubavi, tell me what it is and I'll give it to you," your bodies pressed flush against each other, his eyelashes flittering against your cheek.

"You," the maximum capacity for your brain was one-syllable words and you used it sparingly, failing to suppress a gasp when Helmut's mouth latched around a particularly sensitive spot right under your jawline.

Teeth scraped over it before he soothed the sting with his tongue. "All the things in the world, I could give them to you. And yet..." He sounded almost disappointed. Perplexed, just as you were at the strange admission. "A woman like you would have men fighting for your attention yet you give it to me so freely," he murmured softly, capturing your lips in a slow, fluid kiss once more. "I will make sure you have everything you could ever want."

Helmut's touch grew bolder as he steered the two of you towards the shallow end of the pool. The taste of him was intoxicating, like the sweetest, most alluring poison you'd ever tasted: you knew that once you had one small bit, you'd be addicted, drawn to him like a moth to a flame. His words were clever and his mouth even more, making the short stumble upstairs last hours.

A wall, baroque tapestry, marked with the wetness of the pool water, where you allowed yourself to be pressed against as he leaned into you with the entirety of his broad frame, domineering the kiss effortlessly.

You panted as your back hit the soft, million-thread count, unmade sheets of the baron's bed, staring up into his eyes and finding your own reflection in his pupils, blown wide with lust. The tiny smirk was back but now his unexpressive face was marred by a gleem, accentuating his moist, puffy lips you'd licked into and bitten in a heated frenzy.

"Beautiful, printsesa," he stated with quiet firmness, leaning over into you to unclasp and toss away the upper part of the bikini. The bottoms followed suit, flung carelessly somewhere. His hands ran over your as it sang, every tiniest nerve hypersensitive, coming alive with a fervor borne of months of longing, complimented by the summer heat and cool waters.

"Helmut," your voice wavered, flowed on the syllables as his clever, clever mouth trailed hot down your chest, briefly submerging each nipple into the sear of it. Goosebumps rose over your exposed body, highlighting a trail for him, a trail he followed eagerly. Kisses were candy sweet and marshmallow soft.

Hot breath at the apex of your thighs had you mewling and arching into it, having abandoned all shame, and Helmut found it amusing. The petite chuckle made an appearance, his fingertips ghosting over the part of your lower lips; he was as amused by your impatience as he was enthralled by the youthfulness of the gesture. "Shh, ljubavi, I will make it feel better," his accent as thick as clover honey and just as saccharine.

The first movements were tentative, brief and so light, the demanding moan slipped out of your mouth along with a growl of frustration. You felt continuous chuckling, slight stubble rasping along the sides your thighs; you felt him pick up pace and steady his hot hands on your hips as you attempted to trash against the overwhelming stimulation your pussy was receiving.

His moans, loud and wet, drove you closer to the edge like a drunk drove a Ferrari; Helmut's skill was unparalleled but it lacked precision as he lost himself in the moment just as much as you.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm- I'm so close," you managed to grunt out before the crescendo hit, eyes rolling back into your skull as the influx of more, more, more hit every nerve ending in your body. You could do little more than rest your legs on his shoulders as the noble man, the quiet storm lapped up every drop of your release.

He made the inside of you weak.

In seconds, Helmut was back on top of you, grinding his arousal into you desperately, almost begging for it and all you could do was let your body respond, mimic your lover, clench around nothing just as you felt him twitch.

"Tell me you're mine," he demanded hooking one of your legs over his hip, eyes boring into yours with everything in them plain on display. It was a terrifying thing: as if your heart had suddenly grown legs, stood up and walked out into the bare, wide world, open for all to see. "Ti moa, skaži eto," his native tongue made his voice even more hoarse, you couldn't resist anymore.

"I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours," you chanted the words like a prayer, hoping he'd be merciful - and he is. No, there's only a hidden tenderness in his hands as he drives into your with increasing force that shakes you and makes your core quiver, igniting your flesh once again like the color red; it's messy and it's sloppy and you're barely aware of Helmut muttering something into the crook of your neck as you feel yourself clench down on him with a choked moan.

"Fuck," hearing him, the polite composed man, bite the end of his own orgasm into a curse made a wave of magenta hot rush travel through your body at lightning speed, his cock pulsating and coating you, claiming you from inside out so sweetly you couldn't resist a shallow gasp into his cheek, a gasp he mirrored as his own oversensitive flesh was once more assaulted by your combined lust.

The tide of his breathing was high; both of you spent yet still drunk on the newfound sense of togetherness. It was clear as a summer's day that in your arms laid a man who'd once lost something important and you - you were a someone who's never had anything of significance and perhaps, this time each other's arms would let you both keep whatever it was that you missed.

[angelbrock]

dancing with the demons -she has an attitude?

au/summary: a mischievous 21year old girl dies from a crime she committed, finding her way and new journey to hell and warmly welcomed into the arms of the fallen angel.

warnings: swearing-sorta angst?

pairing: colby x fem!reader

masterlist

//

your point of view

i was talking to the girls, they explained some of the rules around here but apparently i’ll get to know all the rules with the devil himself. “you know, i refuse to believe that someone who is the devil has such an innocent name, colby, who would be afraid of that?” the girls laughed, giggling loudly, “no seriously! i always figured it would be lucifer.”

“nah, only in the bible.” kat shrugged off, “colby’s actual name is cole. but he hates being called that, i don’t know why tho.”

“yeah he never really told us the reason behind that, did he?” devyn asked rhetorically, katrina and tara nodding their heads.

“cole, maybe i’ll say that to piss him off.” i wriggled my eyebrows, smirking a little. “hey do you guys have any food, i’m so hungry.”

“uh duh, come on, follow me.” tara said, both of us getting up from our spot. i followed her as she said, “okay so we have many options, what would you like to have?”

“uhhh, holy shit you weren’t lying when you said there’s a variety.” i breathed out a small chuckle as she giggled. “i’ll have the..” i couldn’t choose, “shit, i don’t know.” i laughed.

tara laughed with me, “here, have these,” she grabbed a pack of chips, ‘hellfire potato chips’ very ironic. “they’re my favourite.” she threw them towards me, i caught it swiftly, nodding.

“the name of it sure sounds convincing.” she laughed yet again. “you go back to the girls, i’ll catch up to you. i’m gonna grab a drink,” she nodded, smiling before leaving. i was looking at the ingredients on the chip packet while walking towards the fridge, accidentally knocking into someone. “shit sorr- oh. it’s you.” i saw colby directly in front of me, shrugging him off.

“isn’t that the most polite way to greet someone.” he sarcastically stated, huffing. “what are you doing?”

“getting food, what does it look like?” i opened the fridge and bent down as i looked for drinks. i could practically feel his eyes staring at my ass. “stop staring, jackass.” i grabbed a can of beer before standing up straight, “you know,” i opened the can as i continued to speak, “i thought you people in hell don’t get hungry.”

“obviously we get hungry,” colby folded his arms, giving me an evil eye, “did you fail in history or something?” i rolled my eyes, taking a sip of the beer.

“history’s a joke. they never teach you what the truth actually is. they just add in positive information to make it sound like the world isn’t a horrible place.” i cocked my eyebrow, my statement definitely catching him off guard.

“wow, you’re actually smart?” he teased, “i didn’t figure you as the common sense type.”

“there’s a lot you don’t know about me-“ i started walking away, stopping for a second, “-cole.” i smirked as i said that, walking off before he could say anything.

i was suddenly startled by the girls squealing at my face, “that was so badass, holy shit.” katrina yelped.

“how did you not stutter once!” devyn continued on,

“girlll, that was firey hot.” tara finished off, i laughed as they all rambled. i shrugged,

“she must’ve learned from the best,” i furrowed my eyebrows, turning my head to see brennen. “sup, princess.” the girls all groaned, huffing. my face shriveled up into a cringe.

“don’t call me princess, i’m nobody’s princess.” i spat out, eating a chip. brennen smirked,

“you shouldn’t be talking to envy like that, sweetheart, you have no idea what i’m capable of.” he huskily spoke, the girls shivered in disgust before sitting back down, “plus,” he ran his hand up and down my arm, “what’s the worst that can happen if you got with m-“

i kicked him in the balls as hard as i could before he could even have the chance to finish. he groaned loudly, falling to his knees as he held his crotch in pain. “damn!” “ouch-” “holy shit that looked like it hurt.” sam, jake and corey called out right after the douche fell to the floor. 

“what the fuck is happening over here?” colby walked out, his deep voice intimidating everyone but me. “what the-”

“colby, you might want to control your fucking girl before i-” before brennen could finish, i kneed him in the jaw, causing him to groan in pain. 

“listen here, asshat,” i grabbed brennen by the collar, “i’m nobody’s fucking girl. stop speaking to me like that or i will crush your balls with my bare hands.” everyone laughed and ooed as soon as i finished. 

“shiiiiit, i think you’re the only chick that i’m afraid of other than tara.” jake chuckled out, i folded my arms, 

“who you calling chick?” honestly, i only said that to scare him. and it seemed to work. 

“alright, that’s enough of that.” colby huffed out, burning his eyes into mine. i stared at him just as intensely. he shut his eyes and rose his eyebrows before opening them again, “she has an attitude,” he looked at sam, who was smirking at colby, “fast learner, i see.” 

“is anyone going to help me?!” brennen groaned out in pain, we laughed, i brought my hand out for him to grab. he hesitantly grabbed it, i pulled him up. “thanks. you’re fucking crazy.” 

“crazy is my middle name.” the girls all giggled, cheering me on as i smirked evilly. where the fuck is this sudden attitude coming from, i still don’t understand.

“anyways, move along, everyone.” colby grit out, sending everyone away, “girls, do you mind if i speak to y/n alone?” the girls nodded before leaving, winking at  me. i looked at them weird before turning back around, gasping in surprise when i saw him standing directly in front of me. 

“can you not do that every time i turn around?” i sassily remarked, continuing to eat my chips. tara wasn’t lying, they were good. he rolled his eyes, 

“listen here, princess,” i clenched my jaw when he called me princess, he definitely did that on purpose. 

“stop calling me princess-” i angrily cut him off, suddenly i was pushed up against the wall, extremely roughly as he gripped my neck. i struggled to get out of his grasp.

“you may have had the guts to lay even a finger on brennen, but you need to realize the fact that i’m the fucking devil. you can’t hurt me even if you tried to. so watch your fucking mouth when you’re speaking to me.” his dark blue eyes boaring into mine, i looked up at him, since he was much taller than me.  

“whatever, if you want to kill me just fucking do it,” i spat back, bringing my face even closer to his, to where i could feel his breath hitting my lips, “i have no will to continue living.” i whispered. he flared his nostrils in anger, tightening his grip around my neck a little. 

“what are you doing to me, huh?” i didn’t even think it was possible, but he brought my face closer to his, the tip of our noses touching, my chest up against his. “who are you to make me feel like this?” his voice lowered even more, sounding slightly raspy sending shivers down my body.

“from what i’ve heard; i’m your queen to be.” he smirked slightly, i copied his expression. 

“to be my queen, there’s a lot of consequences. i still think you’re too much of a coward to face those.” he teasingly whispered.

“is that so?” i rose my eyebrows, he hummed, i brought my mouth towards his ear, “challenge accepted.” i whispered hotly as i escaped his grasp. i walked backwards to see his face, a large grin over my lips. his tongue was pressed against his cheek to hide his smirk.

this should be fun. 

A/N - hi loves! my apologies for taking so long to upload. i’m so glad you guys like the series so far. thank you so much for the feedback, i really appreciate it. <3 

signing off

-i

[supremeinlilac]

Into the light (I'll hold you)

Pairing: Coven!Cordelia Goode x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Word Count: 2557

Warnings: Self doubt, angst.

A/n: Canon divergent, H*nk doesn't exist and Delia's acid attack never happened, although she has still had the Sight previously. Was saving this fic but fuck it, I'm posting it now😌

Halloween.

The night of eerie suspense and the lingering sense of being watched. You enjoyed the days festivities when you were younger, skipping excitedly door to door under a white sheet with your friends.

This Halloween would be your second at Miss Robichaux’s, the first you’d all gone out to a party and got a little too drunk, returning to an irritated Ms Goode. It had been the first time you’d kissed her, and she’d rejected you because of the state you’d been in.

Still, it was the night that had started the path of your relationship with the headmistress.

You loved Halloween.

This year, Fiona Goode, reigning Supreme, returned to the academy. You were instantly weary of her, due to the fact Delia never liked to bring her mother up in conversation of her past. When you’d overheard her telling your girlfriend that she was wasted potential in the school, a prickle of icy anger called the hair at the nape of your neck to stand rigid.

You and the rest of the witches had decided to stay in, watch films and play games. It wasn’t often that everyone could get together to celebrate an evening where witches were celebrated, so they wanted to make the most of the friendly atmosphere that surrounded them. It never lasted long in the coven.

Fiona went out to a bar, her witches hat crooked atop her head and you found yourself glaring at her as she left. The woman alit a flame inside you, one that easily spread and engulfed your powers, fire licking hotly at the tips of your fingers and threatened to overpower you.

Cordelia had stayed behind with you, much to her mother protest, to have a quiet night while the rest of the hubbub would be concentrated in the living room. You were both wrong to think that there’d be no disturbances.

The shattering of glass fractured the silence in your shared room with Cordelia. She’d been braiding your hair, an intimacy that the pair of you rarely found time to do together. She hummed the song you were sung as a child, a habit that she’d picked up in your time at the coven, the action now second nature. It no longer only served to soothe you, but now it brought her comfort too.

Her fingers stilled in your hair, head snapping to the door. You heard a couple of loud thuds and shouts, and then her hand was clutching yours protectively.

“Hey Cordelia?” You heard Queenie shout up the stairs, “you best look outside.”

She was off the bed like it had burned her, drawing the curtains back to show the slow advance of the people outside. You heard her shaky inhale, before she fisted her hands in her trousers and turned to you.

“It’s just the locals. Playing tricks on us, you know how Madison likes to irritate them the rest of the year. Lord knows we’re not the best neighbours,” her face looked serious but the waver in her voice betrayed her. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than you.

It had been a blur after that, shouting and running, and Cordelia slipped out of your grasp. You’d been fighting, had a kitchen knife pressed into your hand by, Zoe, maybe? No. It had been one of the other girls.

They wouldn’t die, those zombies, if that’s even what they were. You’d slashed at a part of them that they shouldn’t have been able to get back up from. Yet it did, limbs flailing and reaching spindly towards you.

Knocked to the ground, you think you must have passed out. But not before you’d seen Cordelia trying to defend the house, eyes furious and scared and dark.

You remembered the purr of the chainsaw, the splatter of blood. The silence that hung after.

The next day you found Cordelia sat at her usual bench in the greenhouse, frows furrowed in concentration as she mixed ingredients with the gentle crack of test tubes and vials. You could see the anguish behind hooded eyes, it was clear that she’d been restless last night, down here long past when everyone else slept.

You had seen her from your window as you’d been drawing the curtains the night before, standing over the pile of haphazardly thrown bodies of the zombies. You weren’t sure how long she’d spent there, not wanting to disturb her until now.

She’d also been absent at both breakfast and dinner, with the excuse of paperwork, but you could see through the thinly veiled lie. You brought her a sandwich and a yogurt, setting them down on a bench before pulling a chair up beside her to watch her work.

Cordelia could mix potions and restore plants without thinking, her craft a lovingly perfected dance in which he moved around the greenhouse with practised ease, plucking vials off the shelves and balancing glassware in steady hands.

Her hands shook. Slightly, almost unnoticeable was the small tremor but it indicated her unease. There was blood still crusted under her fingernails.

You softly coaxed her to put the glass down with fingers around her wrists, guiding her to look at you before lazily lacing your fingers together. She whispered a greeting with a small smile, almost as if she hadn’t registered your presence until you’d touched her.

“I feel like I failed everyone. My girls.” Her voice cracked languidly, eyes falling to where your hands joined on her lap, her nails scraping at your skin nervously. “How can I be headmistress when I cannot protect you all?”

“It’s not your job to do it all alone.” You reminded her gently, thumb brushing over whitened knuckles, following the dip and contour of her skin. “Cordelia.”

A single droplet of shimmering water does not sink a ship. A single cloud cannot shield the sun. A single parent could spend years doubting their worth, unaware that it takes a village to raise a child.

No single person can bear the weight of the world’s troubles without crumbling.

Not even Cordelia, whom you thought could harness the sun if she willed it, could do everything herself. It simply was an unrealistic expectation that her mother had used to weigh her down with.

“Look at me, baby. You are not alone, okay?”

When her head lifted slowly, the light caught the water in her eyelashes, diamond tears shimmering and rolling down the curve of reddened cheeks. You were quick to coo at her, hand coming to cradle her face so you could lean to kiss them away, salt on your tongue.

She shook her head, refusing to look at you and you felt hopeless, like a bystander on the site of an accident. As much as you tried to couldn’t get close enough to her to help, to comfort her as she needed. Running in a dream, tripping over a mere breath and wading through syrup as you tried to escape.

“I’m a failure.”

You found yourself shaking your head, the phantom of a protest falling from your lips, how could Cordelia think that.

“Everything that Fiona says is true.” She continued, head falling into her arms on the desk. Your hand rested on her back, a gentle reminder of the comfort you could give her if only she asked for it. If only she would accept it when you would give it to her anyway.

“I don’t belong here.” Whispered from under her hair which hid her.

Cordelia didn’t realise her own worth, and you wondered if anyone ever truly does.

Does the night sky know its beauty? Or does it envy the blue of the day? Does it wait for the sun to kiss its head and grant it eternity. The night sky is rich with light, if it would only look deep enough within itself to find it. Burning stars and planets reflecting the sun, a kaleidoscope of colour on an ebony canvas.

Cordelia would often look at pictures of her absent mother when she believed to be alone. She was secretly envious of Fiona’s effortless graceful command and hold that she had over the whole coven. She believed her own magical abilities to be inferior to that of the Supreme’s, but it was an unfair comparison, for a Supreme would always persist.

She thought that it meant hers weren’t strong enough, scared for eventualities like the previous night, that she would fail at the role of protector. But she hadn’t failed, she’d fought just like you and Zoe, and it was just the luck of the draw that Zoe’s fear would trigger her Power Negation.

But Cordelia held such raw natural, burning potential that you’d habitually find yourself staring as she practised spells. Eyes following the deft flow of her fingers as she’d manipulate movement. She’d had the second sight within her, so at least on a subconscious level she must know her power.

“You belong here. And look around you, look at this place. Yourgreenhouse.”

“You made it into what it’s become. It’s you.” You spoke, letting yourself spin to appreciate all the work she’d put into this place, into herself.

Cordelia lifted her head, hair falling from her eyes and crowning her face as she followed your gaze to the hanging planters, the glass vials. To the floor that she’d swept only days ago, leaves starting to litter the stone again.

She watched you run fingertips over the exposed brick on the wall, your attention solely on her work around you. She could see the adoration in the iris’ of your eyes, alight with your honesty. You gaze returning, always, to her as you walked to her.

Tentatively, you reached out for her. Was she yet ready to accept your help, your love as you wanted to give it to her?

Still unsure, Cordelia shied away from your comforting touch, head returning to her hands.

“You don’t have to live behind Fiona’s words anymore.” You whispered into her temple, as if straight into her mind.

Sometimes it is easier to live in the shadows than to confront those who cast them.

She’d spent her whole life cowering in Fiona’s shadow, growth and development stunted from the lack of light. Self-belief fractured into a gaping crack.

She’d been trapped, dark and alone with a mother figure who didn’t love her in a way she understood how to be loved. They both loved each other then, and ove each other now, but sometimes mere love isn’t enough. It isn’t consistent enough to be safe. You can love someone and still hurt them.

You had spent time working on her confidence, creeping back into the light and into herself again. Breaking down the thoughts that had grown to immobile threatening walls that only served to block the light more.

All it had taken was one night of Fiona being back for all that progress to retreat back to where they’d been hidden. Cordelia had urged you then to back away, to leave her and grow by yourself, that she was only holding you back.

But you gritted your teeth and grinned in the face of the devil. You weren’t scared of the dark. And you’d be damned if you were leaving it without your girlfriend. Even if you had to start right back at the beginning, you’d help her to heal.

“You could be the next Supreme.” You urged, pulling her head from where it rested on the table, forcing her to look in your eyes and see your honesty.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true.” She begged, vision hazed by tears.

“But it is true, Delia. You’re so powerful.” You pressed, eyes conveying your severity like your voice couldn’t. Willing her to believe.

You reached to brush the tears that clung to her eyelashes before they fell and stained her face. A lingering kiss to her lips, the feeling of her lower lip wobbling between your own. In that moment, you could feel her fragility.

You didn’t want to push further, knowing that she may never truly believe in her full potential like you did. Instead, you pushed yourself to feet and bounced in front of her. She looked up in confusion, eyes still full with tears that caught the light, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss them away again. They didn’t deserve to dampen her skin.

“Dance with me?” You asked, standing and offering a hand the way you’d so often seen in movies.

A shy smile formed on the headmistress’ lips, cheeks pink and the tips of her ears flushed as she allowed herself to be pulled from her seat. Into the shine of the moonlight, which shone beams of liquid silver through the glass onto the hard stone and the soft of Cordelia.

Your arms secured themselves around her waist while hers stroked the back of your neck. Moments like this made you wonder if perhaps the cliché’s people told you about love had been true. Maybe this could be forever. It always felt like forever when you were in her arms.

You swayed to phantom music, slow and deliberate, soft touches and kisses on bare shoulders. You felt like even a whisper would shatter the perfect peace you’d enveloped you both in, sending ripples of doubt over the sheer water and to Cordelia again.

The moon felt like perfect company in that moment, like a third person, watching and waiting. A witness to the silent change.

Cordelia pressed her forehead to yours, her fingers splayed through the hair at the back of your head, holding you close. You could see the depth of her eyes, searching for the lie in yours that wasn’t there to find. You truly believed that she was the next Supreme, she had to be.

“Say something.” She breathed, hand on your waist dancing under the hem of your top, cold fingers on warm skin.

“Like what?” You asked, pulling back momentarily so you could smile at her. The hand that was behind your head tucked hair behind your ear and brought your hand from her shoulder so she could press lips to your knuckles. The ridge of bone under the soft of her skin and then she was hugging you again.

“Anything, I just want to hear your voice.”

So you told her about yourself. Stories she’d never heard and memories you’d thought you’d forgotten. Whispers of your past shared with your future.

She nuzzled her chin into the crook of your neck and listened, breathing deep the smell of your perfume that clung, lingering to the collar of your clothes.

A laugh.

Rippling up your throat at reminiscing a memory, vibration muffled against her ear at your jaw, and Cordelia swore that she could feelyour emotions. Truly feel you, and she realised that you couldn’t lie to her. Couldn’t will yourself to say something untrue just to still the aching beat of her heart within her chest.

You couldn’t make yourself want to mend her. You didn’t want that. You wanted to help her heal. Heal from her past that held less joy and laughter than yours did.

You wanted to help her create memories of her own, just like this.

Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Dancing in the dark under the glow of the patient moon.

taglist: @pearplate @billiedeansbottom @okpaulson @pluied-ete @magnifique-monstre @extraordinarilycelestrial @mssallymckenna @magnificent-paulsonn @shineestark @commanderspeach @grilledcheeseandguavajelly @darling-dontforgetme @amethyst-bitch @its-soph-xx @germansarechill @bluesxrgnt @d14n4ol @ninaahs @sarahp-stan @natasha-danvers @imgayandmymomdoesntknow @lovelypeasantjellyfish @rainbow-hedgehog @paulawand @saucy-sapphic @lilypadscoven @citizenoftheworld-stuff-blog @venablemayfairgoode @serawalkerwrites @sapphicsarahpaulson @delias-bitch-craft ,, if you want to be added sent me an ask or reply to this post <3

[marshmallowprotection]

Hi! If you’re still doing matchups, I’d love to have one!!

I’m a college student currently majoring in studio art (currently taking a painting class!! Oil paint smells so bad.,,) and idk if it’s relevant but I’m already fairly tall (5’10) but I love wearing heels that make me taller lol

Im non-binary with a very boyish haircut but my fashion sense is very feminine and I love skirts!! Usually I wear long ones but I have a few short ones too because my ass is too good not to show off tbh anyway I’m very loud!! Both with my voice and all the bright colors I like to wear and just my overall vibe because I like to act as confidant and positive as I can everywhere!!! Optimist through and through lol

I love to draw, read, occasionally I write poems, and I love playing games!! I actually got into league of legends because of Yoosung oops a few years back, so like I desperately need to touch grass and it’s all!! His!!! Fault!!!!! (Hardstuck bronze 3 GET ME OUT) Umm I also have ADHD so I’m super 💀 sometimes and I’ve been listening to the same fucking songs for the past several weeks because of it

Also I love stuffed animals and I refuse to sleep without them, AND ALSO I love my kitty cat!!!!! His name is Nicky and he’s NASTY but I love him anyway. He’s not a fancy breed he’s like, the equivalent of a generic food brand but for cats but I miss him so much even though he leaves cat hair everywhere and has literally taken over my room back at home.,,, I wish I could attach a picture to this ask i literally show pictures of him to everyone I meet he’s so silly like one of his hobbies is literally chewing my dad’s yoga mat

Yes my cat is relevant to this even tho my mom is literally his favorite idc I love talking about him he’s my favorite pillow even tho I’m 99% sure he’d call me a bitch if he was able to speak cause of how much I manhandle him LOL

I ran out of stuff to say so have a nice day!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

I match you with...

Seven!

You're a kind of person that knows who you are. You're a creative soul that loves to explore anything and everything that you can get your hands on. It means that you're expressive and that you know what it feels like to know what your imagination wants. Not everybody can say that they have a good grasp on that sort of thing so a lot of people must Envy you for having that sense of self. It's an admirable trait. That's why the perfect person for you is somebody who can keep up with your energy as well as match you for style. You are the breath of fresh air that somebody like Seven needs. It's as if you came into his life to paint on the black and white canvas that he's been seeing since the day he was born. You make him feel like he can look at the world in a way that nobody else can show him. He's been alive all this time but he hasn't really been living until he met you.

He loves to watch you create. He loves to see what you can make with your hands. If there's something that he admires in this world, it's people that can put their intention into life in some way, shape, or form. He's a little bit jealous that you were able to figure this out about yourself so early but it's never too late for him so imagine that you are going to have a life ahead of you of figuring out a way to not let this man take his own fashion sense out of control by your side. He would love your cat. I think that's a given just for anybody that has a cat but he would like yours especially just because it sounds like it has an attitude and he is known to like things that do that. It could bite his face off and he would still say that that is the best cat that he's ever met.

[seoracle]

DRIVERS LICENSE; i

Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, S for potential smut(??)

Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right...But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Swearing (a lot near the end), Drinking mention

A/N: this was meant to be a drabble... now it’s becoming a series...i’m sorry

“...and the winner of Inkigayo today is...Y/N with ‘Drivers License, Congratulations!”

You step towards the center of the stage and take the trophy and bouquet from a rookie idol, who flashes a bright smile at you, but you can see the envy in his eyes. You once had that same hunger and ambition that he seems to reek of, it’s a reminder of how far you’ve come.

Taking the mic, you begin to sing a more sultry and edgier vibe than usual, which seems to gather more screams from fans than usual. You remember what Seulgi taught you and gaze at the camera lens with a subtle pout, trying to capture the angst of the song in your gaze.

It feels ridiculous, feigning emotions you no longer feel, singing a song you begged the company not to put out in a corset fitted shirt that’ll leave your ribs sore and reddened. It’s pathetic and cliche, you quite literally sold your soul (well, heart) for fame. 

“Yeah, you said forever, now I drive alone past your street…”

Everyone behind you waves at the camera, signalling the show is ending. You leave last, taking several confetti bits for your scrapbook, which is the only thing keeping you from remembering this is all real. 

Backstage, Iris and San are waiting in your dressing room, they greet you with proud grins and slaps on the back. 

“Well, if it isn’t miss twelve...no, thirteen wins in two weeks.” San praises, enveloping you in a hug.

“Could be thirteen by tomorrow~” Hums Iris in a sing-song tone.

A groan leaves your lips, while slumping into an uncomfortable chair. You tune out their excited plans for your makeup and hair tomorrow, San says something about an end of year Award show.

All you want is to go home to your empty dormitory and sleep.

When you finally arrive to the ‘comfort’ of your ‘studio apartment’ (box room), it isn’t long before you strip down to your pyjamas and aggressively rub off the layers of makeup that seem to cling to every pore and fine line of your face. The cold air from the fan soothes the aching of your body from your strict workout routine. You stay awake until 4am, reading comments from netizens and replying to fans on your fancafe, it  was hard not to become obsessed with checking what people thought; whether they loved or loathed you.

[+184 -93] Y/N is talented, but they look devoid of emotion since last week...maybe singing a song so personal isn’t a good idea….what if the person it’s about hears it…..

User FYL**8 was right, it had become draining trying to convey emotions you’d long let go of. Your debut song was fresh and fun, it didn’t garner much attention but at least you hadn’t had to fake emotions and relive your first heartbreak.

Although the memories of the breakup didn’t hurt as much, the happiest ones were the most painful. The feeling of ignorance, thinking he meant forever and believing him completely...it was all so distant yet felt a fingertip away.

That night you slept with a heavy heart, remembering what it felt like when he’d hold you close and right and kiss you on the head to soothe your worries. Why did it have to end? Why like that? You try to drift into a nice sleep after another exhausting day but to no avail, thoughts of him are flooding every thought. Has he heard it? There was no way he hadn’t, he loved to check out every ranking song for inspiration or for another artist to add to his monthly playlist. 

Would he get angry? Sad? Laugh at your pathetic feelings? He was right in the end, when it came down to it you only shared your feelings when it was too late.

Stupid Christopher fucking Bang.

It wasn’t often you’d refer to him as Chan, you had met him when he only saw it as another name for himself that he hardly used. Back when his hair had been fluffed up curls that he couldn’t contain and his light freckles weren’t covered by BB Cream. When he didn’t belong to the world and only loved you.

After months of forcing yourself not to, you hastily search “Stray kids Bang Chan + Y/N”, Then “Stray Kids Y/N” and finally “Skz Y/N”. The results are minimal and far inbetween, mostly tweets from fans wishing for a collab and oddly enough one person making edited photos of you and them, which are so convincing you have to remind yourself you hadn’t met them.

Thoughts drift to his friends, the ones who didn’t know Chris was even seeing someone and had been for over a year. They tried to sugarcoat it, say they forgot, it’s hard to keep track when you’re training and all that. 

The sinking feeling you felt when Minho asked how long you’d been together, guessing a month at most. When you did reply, ears burning with embarrassment he coughed and muttered “Oh.’, That had stung.

Everything had seemed so perfect, until you opened your eyes and saw it for what it was.

You don’t end up sleeping much, two hours at most, Then it’s time to get ready and head to the Broadcast Studio for today’s event. All you know is it’s a show about giving advice, the reviews aren’t great but you aren’t allowed to turn anything down because fame is a double-edged sword that you can barely grasp as is.

Iris and San are already waiting for you when you get there, within minutes makeup is being patted into your skin and your outfit is laid out on the chair next to you.

“Sleep more, Y/N-ah, I had to use a double coverage concealer to hide your dark circles.” Iris said in a fretful tone.

“I try, it’s hard being famous.” You reply jokingly, flipping your hair the best you can. Iris smacks your hand away and frantically finds her hairspray.

Within twenty minutes you’re dressed and not one hair is out of place, San pulls you aside with an uncharacteristically stern face. 

“The company have specific goals for sending you here, they want you to delve into a story of heartbreak to comfort today’s victim, while keeping anonymity and remaining as vague as you can.” 

Of course, even a show about helping others is fictional.

You nod solemnly and prepare to go on air, sitting on a cushion next to a popular comedian who doesn’t bother to even look at you. A well-known Streamer is on your other side and you begin polite small talk, which seems to irritate the host.

“We’re on in 3,2….1!” A sharp click follows the director’s queue and the host bursts right into the introduction.

After you’re introduced it’s easy to tune out, you couldn’t give a shit about that stuck-up comedian and the actress to their right. Instead you think of how the fuck you’re supposed to conjure up an emotional performance with little to no time to prepare.

‘My ex-boyfriend hid me for almost two years’ no, not even worthy of a cheap gossip magazine. ‘I thought my boyfriend loved me, turns out he loved his career more’ Maybe...but you sound too needy. 

“Today’s guest is Lee Chaeun of Suwon! Tell us your story, please.” 

You turn to look at the guest who walks onto the set and sits at the head of the pillow mats. She’s clearly a young girl, her baby face is covered by face-framing layers of shiny black hair and her eyes are already glassy.

“Last year, I began dating my crush after years of admiring him from afar...Everything seemed so perfect until last week….He dumped me by text message saying he needed space and now he’s with someone new..” Chaeun bursts into tears and the host fakes a sympathetic face and passes her a box of tissues.

“Ah, you’re young...you don’t know anything yet. This is a normal phase for teenagers, men realise themselves and break girls down so they become beautiful women. It’s just a case of a little girl not wanting to grow up!” Chimes in the Comedian, who talks about his falsities as if they’re facts.

The audience erupts into laughter and the heartbroken teenager lowers her head in embarrassment. Which only makes you more enraged, Who told that guy he was funny?

“Chaeun has every right to be upset!” You exclaim, cutting through the laugher like a hot knife. “When a relationship ends when everything seems alright for one person, it's cruel. Being blindsided isn’t a joke. It hurts and she deserves closure, and to move on someday to a better person..What happened to her shouldn’t happen to anyone!”  You barely register a gentle hand on top of yours, far too surprised by the fact there are tears dripping down your face. Crying wasn’t an option, so you pull yourself together and apologise to Chaeun and the host you cannot stand.

“Y/N, You seemed personally moved by Chaeun’s story, have you experienced a painful breakup?” The host asks curiously.

“You could say that,” You begin with a wry smile. “I was with someone who lived a double life, they were completely different when they were with other people...Things ended when I was still planning for future dates...it made me realise how fake they were.”

The guests all nod and you squeeze Chaeun’s hand, she smiles at you seeming relieved that she isn’t the only one who has felt this kind of pain. 

Everything goes smoothly after that, other guests chime in and the actress that seemed snobby is openly discussing her ex vomiting all over her Valentinos. You can’t help but wonder if the company really suggested this, or if it was divine intervention (Choi San, your manager). 

You don’t feel so alone anymore, everyone is guaranteed several things, two being love and heartbreak of some kind. 

“Thanks to singer Y/N and actress Sojung, Chaeun was able to feel a little better...Thank you for joining us on ‘Help No Counsellor!’, Join us next week when…’

“Choi San, you sneaky bastard.”

He tries to act surprised but a shit-eating grin soon overtakes his acting, Iris shakes her head and zips her makeup bag closed. It isn’t long until you’re all at The Min’s enjoying red bean bread and warm tea.  “What does inept even mean? I’m assuming it’s a good thing because Wooyoung kissed me after saying it.” San mentions, his lips curving upwards at the fond memory.

“I’d have to agree with Woo, it fits you perfectly.” You reply, circling around his question while Iris tries not to choke on her food.

Fits of laughter die down when you spot a familiar face, Lee Mijoo. 

Her blonde hair flows down her back in loose curls and her soft eyes seem to enchant everyone, admittedly even you for a short time.Behind her is a slightly taller figure dressed in all black and your stomach drops.They don’t seem to notice your presence, so you decide to use this valuable time to hide behind a menu. 

San and Iris try to play along best they can, but it is quite distressing that all of this has happened so suddenly, with no prior warning. But he did bring you here, a lot. So it’s amusing to see his date ideas haven't changed. 

As he’s walking past you he pauses, and you want to shrivel into a hole and die, He’s clearly recognised you but can’t be 100% sure due to The Min’s menu covering your entire face. 

“Y/N?” 

Shit. You cannot hide from this.

Slowly taking the menu away and placing it down on the table you smile at him, maybe a little too forced but it’s the best you can do. His hair is blonde now, his curls are long gone but his smile is as genuine as ever. 

Stupid Christopher Bang and his stupid ‘I-totally-didn’t-break-your-heart’ attitude.

“Chan, nice to see you. Still obsessed with their double shots?” You humoured, he seemed grateful for that.

“Oh, absolutely...and I see you’re still not saving any bean bread for anyone else.” 

You laugh, it’s a bittersweet one at best but nevertheless it’s a laugh.

'Well it’s great to see you again, I’d love to exchange numbers if that’s alright?” 

Without thinking you nod and oblige him, much to your friend’s disappointment which is evident by their glares. Mijoo exchanges smiles with everyone, who could hate her? She was funny, kind hearted and beautiful in every aspect. 

When they finally leave to their outside seats you breathe a sigh of relief and sink into the chair.Iris strokes your hair and San grabs more snacks to go, the walk home isn’t peaceful. It’s awkward and silent, which only makes your head spin more. When you drop off Iris you know a lecture is coming, San hates doing it but you know he tells you what you need to hear, even if it hurts.

“Look, I’m happy you were able to brush off all the hurt today but earlier on you were crying about….this. Don’t give him the power to hurt you twice.”

“You’re right, thanks Sannie.” You reply, taking his arm and smiling at the warmth of his (Wooyoung’s) fuzzy coat. 

Once San leaves and you get inside, it’s a matter of minutes before you hop in the shower and get rid of all the hairspray and mascara that’s been making you itch all day. The warm water soothes away your nerves and the impending frostbite from being outside in the cold for far too long. 

Once you feel clean and somewhat scalded you step out onto warm fluffy towels (cheap warm fluffy towels with holes in them) and get situated for bed.

Just as you exit the bathroom your phone rings and you answer immediately, it’s probably Iris wanting you to play a new Among Us mod with her. 

“Iris?”

“Uh, no, Chris.” 

“Oh.” is your initial reply, why would he call you at midnight?

“Where you asleep? I’m sorry I’ll call back another ti-”

“No!” You interject, much too eagerly. “No...it’s fine. I’m not even in bed yet.”

“Oh” He sounds relieved, much the opposite of you.

“I just wanted to congratulate you...The song, it’s great. What’s it like actually singing one you wrote?”

“Great,” You admit with a smile he can't see, “It feels...genuine. I Couldn't stand the thought of giving the song away.”

“I can see why.” He replies in an unreadable tone.

“Did it make you uncomfortable? Me singing...about-”

“No, why would it?” He cuts in, he sounds slightly agitated.

“Look, Chan, I’m sorry. I should’ve texted you, well I did but you changed your number. But it’s my story too, okay? I needed to heal somehow.”

Minutes pass with no answer, as if he’s trying to think of exactly what to say without getting more irritated or to spare your feelings.

“When did I become Chan?” His voice comes out wavering,and it hurts you.

“That’s what everyone calls you now, you’re not just Chris the trainee anymore.” You reply in a gentle way, trying to ease the building tension.

“But to you, when did I stop being Chris?”

“Probably when you broke my heart,” You deadpan, before adding a ‘kidding’ and bullshit reason.

“You weren’t kidding, but you broke mine too. Don’t make me the bad guy.”

This had taken you aback, you had been in a perfectly happy relationship for almost two years and then he changed his mind, said he wasn’t happy and it wasn’t your fault. When the fuck did you break his heart?

“When exactly did that happen?” You query, “Before or after Mijoo?”

Chan lets out a dry laugh, “Don’t talk about what you don’t understand.”

“Well what does it matter? You never told me shit anyways.” You snapped.

“That’s because you wouldn’t fucking listen. Maybe to you it was all sunshine and roses but I was struggling, I changed and outgrew us. I didn’t want to but you were stuck in dreamland where we’d debut at the same time and live happily ever after. I realised it wasn’t going to happen and set you free so you wouldn’t be embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” You bark,”Fucking embarrassed of what exaclty? I left that shithole you call your company by choice and worked my way up. I’m not embarrassed, but you should be. You’re a fucking sellout Christopher Bang.”

Before he can reply you end the call and throw your phone at the wall, it would’ve broken only for the forty dollar case the store assistant convinced you to buy. You burst into tears just like you had that night when it all came crashing down. He must’ve loved seeing you in pain, because he keeps doing it even now.

That night, you wish for everything to go back to a time before him and the heartbreak that followed.

It’s early on a Friday when you’re called into a board meeting with the CEO, Director and San, who looks like someone stepped on his clay masterpiece. You still haven’t been told anything and as the minutes pass by you wonder if they found out about you getting drunk at Club Suran several weeks back. What if someone saw San there too? What if–

Suddenly the doors open and in walks JYP’s CEO, followed by several others and finally Chris. He looks as confused as you, but you quickly look away before he spots you. Last night was still fresh in your mind and you didn’t need anymore reminders or conversations with him.

“Dispatch has sent us several photos of you two together, spanning several years.” Your CEO announces, an Executive pulling the photos up on the screen behind her. “Including one from yesterday.”

“That was a coincidence, we broke up a long time ago.” You admit, she seems satisfied with your answer and nods, which makes you remember that damned dating ban you have.

“Usually, we’d shoot down these rumours immediately...but this could be quite beneficial to both Stray Kids and Y/N.” JYP’s CEO adds, “Stock prices have shown a rise for both of your albums, and real time searches are at an all time high.” 

“I have a girlfriend.” Chan states, arms folded. “So that’s out of the question if you’re implying we fake a relationship.”

“Look Bang Chan,” Begins one of the Advisors, “It’s all for show, we’ll plan every detail and your girlfriend will keep her mouth shut if she knows what's good for her. Frankly, our sales aren't what they used to be and you need this, if you want complete musical and artistic control.”

Chan takes a while to think, you know this is all he’s wanted. Control over everything he and the boys put out there, with no censorship or edits by anyone else. Your CEO assures you you’ll also benefit from the agreement, including your debt fully cleared and money in your bank account as soon as you sign on the dotted line.

“How long does this last?” You ask, pen in hand.

“Twelve months, then you’re free again.” 

Chan looks to you for conformation and you ignore him, signing it and standing up to leave. You only stop to sign more formalities and then you and San head back to your local coffee shop. 

“Well, you sure have a funny way of moving on.”

[mochii0park]

 meraki; chapter 01 I jhs

Title: Meraki

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader / Jin x Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: angst I fluff

Pairing: literaryscout!hoseok x writer!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: Throughout your whole life you lived in your sister’s shadow, watching from side-lines as she formed herself into a successful businesswoman with an envying life. Never being able to fill her shoes you gradually understood the meaning of an estranged family and the burden it carried. The twenties began slowly slipping from your grasp which had been embedded with insecurities and longing for fulfilment. Pouring your heart out to strangers with a pseudonym meraki, you began second guessing the decision when an email lands in your inbox.

Author's note: unedited, it's 2am I'll reread it tomorrow

Taglist: if you want to be added to the taglist message me

@namsope32 , @cuteipat , @ofvopemin

Masterlist

Meraki masterlist

< intro | chapter 02 >

Seokjin got engaged and moved to the USA.

Your lanky fingers hover over the keyboard, the reality of the situation still lingering in the air. The send button felt heavy, as if the action would make a shift in your universe. You have already made mends with how things were going between you, but it still felt crushing.

Sucking up the little pride you had left after lying to your friend, you push the button and lock the phone hoping to gain some sanity in your walk back to the apartment. It had been a regular night out with your friends. Coffee chitchat alongside freshly baked cookies which you got as an apology for being late.

Your mutual friends felt the need to notify you of the sudden change in Seojkin’s life, wanting you to hear it from them first. Pushing it to the back of your mind as nothing but an additional fact, you continue through the night with a smile. That lasted until you the rounder the corner.

Seokjin had been your friend through university and even later as you grew up and struggled to make ends meet.  You had been there for him when his girlfriend of five years decided to dump his ass having a shift in her feelings towards him. You mended his heart through late night talks and rides across the city. He was your kiss partner after breakups, picking up your self-esteem and gluing it together. In conclusion, Seokjin was your everything. If only the feeling was mutual.

Days before deciding to confess to him, he blasts your phone with messages about a girl that pulled all the strings in his heart and awoke oceans of memories. Kim Jisoo was his high-school crush with whom he lost contact after entering his last relationship. Reconciling through social media the two hit off where they last left it and suddenly you became the dust under his shoes. 

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months of not seeing him. With a deeply rooted pain in your chest and a jealousy for the new girl in his life you stepped down allowing Jisoo to consume his being. Afterall who were you than a mere friend, easily replaceable.

The last slap came when you drunkenly confessed, having enough of their roller coaster like relationship. That was the last time you’ve heard of Seokjin’s teary-eyed voice telling you goodbye over the phone. No matter how many times he told you this sounded like the end and the suffering he felt was unbearable; it was nothing compared to the sound of your heart shattering into pieces.

Sehun told you many times that the timing was so off it made him uncomfortable, but that’s the thing about you and Seokjin. Everything was off with the two of you. From kisses to cuddles to nudes after midnight to serious conversations about pineapple pizza. Friends don’t do that, is what you kept telling yourself when the feelings for him slowly grew from platonic to romantic.

In midst of your thoughts your phone rang. Sehun the attachment dealer flashed across your phone. Giggling at the memory of how the nickname came to be, a warm feeling nest itself inside your chest. “Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“I left the Howl Cafe, I’m near home.”

He hums, the sound of the blinker echoing in the distance. “I’m there in five. Meet me at the bus station at beginning of your street.”

There were instances when disobeying Sehun felt like the biggest thrill of your life but right now when feelings you couldn’t pinpoint ran through you clouding your judgement, Sehun felt like a silver lining. As you wait for him to arrive, you can’t help but scroll through your phone in search for that one picture of Seokjin.

The only one you’ve saved after your last conversation. He was leaning against the wall of the bakery, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. His bleached hair fell over his rimmed glasses giving him an emo vibe. It was somewhere around three am when you’ve taken this photo. 

Both of you exhausted from running aimlessly around the city. He begged you to visit this bakery at the top of a hill, assuring you about the quality of their goods. You remember that night vividly, how you would steal a kiss or two in the shadows hiding from the reality. How he would woo you with his terrible French accent and you would answer him in your broken German.

You miss him. You miss him to the point where it physically hurt.

Sehun honks ever so caring about the people sleeping peacefully in their homes. He bursts into laughter at your jumpy reaction making you feel annoyed as you lock your phone. Settling yourself in his car you wait for his I told you so, but it never comes. Instead, he turns on his Spotify playlist clicking on Olivia Rodrigo’s good 4 u blasting it a such high volume all thoughts you had were overridden with the upbeat song.

Sehun had been your friend for the same amount Seokjin was. The two knew each other through a few short encounters, for some reason they never crossed paths for longer than ten minutes. For that you were thankful. The song comes to a finish and Sehun observes you from his seat. The lights of the city painted on the window illuminated your face, giving him a prefect view of your perplexed expression.

“How are you feeling?”

You knew he would ask this question, after all the sole reason you were driving on a highway was because of your damped mood but in whole honesty you didn’t know the answer.

“A part of me had expected it. He talked about marrying her, but he also talked about wanting to drop everything and own a cottage in Sweden.”

“Your taste in men is terrible. Remember Mark? The guy who had so many career goals but couldn’t leave his house because he thought having a life outside work was overly distracting for his oh so important career as IT support at ZARA? Or Mino who was so high you couldn’t recognise him when he dropped the weed after your breakup.” Sehun snorts.

You roll your eyes at him. Surely your boyfriend track wasn’t the best but it’s not like you seek out boys with issues, it seems that they attach themselves to you and you can’t get rid of them without a major heartbreak. “Whatever.”

Sehun stretches forward pulling your favourite chocolate bar out of the compartment, throwing it in your lap. You smile, munching on it as you switch the song to Zayn and Sia’s Dusk Till Dawn.

“I just expected him to inform me.”

Sehun shakes his head. “I am not sure why you expected that. You two haven’t shared one conversation in two months. You’ve asked for space when he told you he can’t choose between you and Jisoo. Plus, that was a dick move to be honest making him choose between his girlfriend and his best friend.”

“Space,” you emphasise,” not utter silence. He didn’t move two fucking blocks Sehun. He moved to a whole fucking country without telling a soul. Our mutual friend finds out through an Instagram story. Fucking Instagram. And I don’t care, he was a dick that started this charade might as well end it.”

By now you were fully shouting, the tears that threatened to spill before now rushing down your face. In this moment you didn’t care much about Sehun’s awkwardness regarding tears and crying, that was pushed aside when he backed Seokjin’s decision and pissed all over yours.

“Y/N,” he whispers, turning down the volume as you whimper, “there is not much you can do. You must respect his decision. You can’t force someone to love you.”

It was your turn to huff at the stupidity of his words. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t go about kissing people. Respect decision? Fuck that. Did he respect me when he made a fool out of me?

“No.”

Sehun exhales knowing that in this case you weren’t in the right mind to have a rational conversation. Seokjin was your weak point, he knew that much. Your emotions began to pour out, leaving you a sobbing mess in his car. 

“Look, I can’t stop you from having all sort of emotions for him. I can only advice you to turn off your phone for tonight and give yourself time to process the information before doing anything you might regret.”

 “I won’t blast his phone with insulting messages if that’s what you think.”

“Good, also don’t eat out your emotions. You can’t stand too much sugar in your system.” 

“Thanks doctor. I’ll just write out my emotions instead.” You say leaning into the seat, closing your eyes as you listen to the music.

“You still write on that blog?” You can hear some amazement in Sehun’s voice, and you know it’s not to mock you but to praise you for managing to stay faithful to one thing this long. You had a reputation for giving up on things in early stages because you couldn’t finish them perfectly.

The rest of the ride was spent with you eating out your emotions with the food Sehun bought from your local fast-food restaurant. Not much was said between you and him as he drove into the night letting you process the whole situation, only dropping you off at home when you felt yourself calming down.

Once in the confides of your room you strip yourself of any pent-up emotions letting all the pallet of different feelings overran you. Taking a pen, you let your heart pour into endless words scribbled away in your notebook. When you’ve felt empty the high gone, you take your laptop opening the site you’ve a long time member of. It came to you on Instagram in a form of a poorly done advertisement. It was a website for people wanting to share their poetry with strangers.

At first, you’ve done what you always do: began self-doubting your poems and their worth. Most of them were written in a spur of a moment when you felt like you would burst from the number of things you felt. But one night, when sleep couldn’t come to you and the pain of losing the person you held dear lingered in the air threatening to choke you; you signed in posting your work. It was raw and you suddenly felt exposed and naked in front of the world.

That’s how Meraki came to be. How your pseudonym became your shield, allowing you to burden it with any thought or emotion you’ve felt. In the online world Meraki was a fierce writer, letting her readers know of the pain and suffering she felt. In real world Meraki was an introverted person hiding herself from anyone willing to come close.

                                                   ____

 It was a hot Wednesday morning when you’ve gotten an e-mail from your sister informing you of her whereabouts. Due to your mother’s work preventing her from traveling, she decided to pay you a visit instead; much to your delight. The days to her wedding were numbered and so was your sanity.

Luckily for you she and her fiancée decided to stay with your parents.

The thought of her roaming the halls of the only place you’ve managed to cover in comfort was disturbing you. It wasn’t that you hated your sister but although you’ve dealt with your own insecurities some parts of the trauma still hung over you.

You’ve managed to avoid her for a good number of days since she landed in Seoul but now a week later you ran out of excuses. That’s how you found yourself sitting in a posh sea food restaurant, juggling your anxiety during the family dinner.

The last time you saw your whole family was at your grandfather’s birthday (which happened six months ago). The event left a bad taste in your mouth after you’ve spent majority of time listening to your sister’ success only receiving attention when she addressed you.

Solar and her fiancée Minho discussed the menu as they skimmed through different meals. You have been so busy staring at one spot that you’ve never noticed the waiter taking orders.

“Y/N?” Solar spoke catching your attention.

“One chicken fillet for me please.” You were so preoccupied with different thoughts you never saw what they had to offer therefore you went with your go-to food.

The moment the waiter leaves the table with the menus, your mother scoffs. “Aish you’re eating chicken again, we’re in an exclusive sea food restaurant and you’re embarrassing us.  “

“Mother, let her eat what she wants.” Solar interrupted your mother’s complaining, switching the topic to her wedding dress. Your mother beamed at the photos she showed her.

It was somehow sad how much power Solar had over your parents. One word was enough to ease them into doing whatever she liked whilst you had to beg and crawl your way and even then, you were no match for her.

You felt severely out of the place. The two talking about preparations while your father and Minho gushed over their new apartment in Tokyo. You sat there in your chair counting down minutes until you could leave. Any other day you wouldn’t bother to attend the dinner but now Solar insisted you showed up. Something about the sight of her family warming her heart, bunch of bullshit.

“How are you doing Y/N?” She asks ignoring your mother as she mumbles under her breath about your bad habits, one being smoking.

You took up smoking in your last year of university when the pressure of getting a master’s degree and balancing your parents had been too much to take in. A lot of your friends decided to find comfort in weed, but you never understood the thrill of it. Rather than spending enormous amounts for just one puff, you could buy a pack of cigarettes and still have money left for some booze.

“Not much, same old same old.” You answered pushing your nervousness away.

There wasn’t much happening in your life. You’ve started a job in a bookstore and spent your free time either with Sehun or Jihyo.

“How’s Seokjin?”

That one question had caught the table’s attention and suddenly you felt a terrible need to smoke one. Your families were acquainted through work, your fathers working together on a project. They had been shocked when they discovered that you and Seokjin had been close friends for a long time.

“He’s fine.”

“I heard he got engaged,” Your mother spoke up,” to Kim’s daughter Jisoo. Ah what a wonderful being that one is.”

“Oh?” Solar gave your mother a perplexed look narrowing her head at you. You played with the glass in front of you, the object suddenly becoming interesting.

“I thought you and he were dating.” Minho joined, telling the words that were stuck on the tip of your sister’s tongue.

“Y/N and Seokjin? Don’t make me laugh. They are worlds apart. Seokjin is so focused on his career while our Y/N thinks writing will make her a fortune.”

Taking a sip of water, you try your best to wash away the nasty words threatening to leave your mouth. Your parents never approved of your career choice not that you even cared about their opinion.

Solar hums pulling her lips into a straight line. “I’ve must’ve mistaken then. I was sure I saw you-“

“Here is your food.”

And that’s how you were saved from the embarrassment of having to explain to your sister that what she saw was imagination playing tricks on her and not you and Jin making out in front of your house. It was awkward enough when she pestered you about it the next day.

The conversation takes on a different dynamic and you breathe out in relief. You were still trying to process the news and talking about him wasn’t helping your soul.  You gather yourself before your façade could fall and mask it with a stoic expression continuing your countdown till desert when Sehun would call you for an “emergency”.

Right on time you think as your phone began to ring.

You pretend to gasp covering your mouth to show concern as Sehun sputtered nonsense. He kept talking about his trip to the gym and how his feet hurt from all the exercise he did while you tried not to show disgust as explained in detail how hit his little finger against a metal device . Solar shot you a worried look as you excused yourself from the table.

“And the award for the best actress goes out to Y/L Y/N” Sehun pitches once you close the door of the restaurant. Shooting a quick apology message to Solar, you jump into his car deJa’vu hitting you.

“I should get paid for spending so much time with you.” Sehun dripped in sweat, his black shirt sticking moistly to his body, hair pushed back.

You shrugged falling into a comfortable silence. Half an hour later he stops at the number 13, the windows of your house distinguishable by the large number of flowers catching last rays of Sun before the night settles.

“That will be 100 won and a Mcdonald’s later when you’re free.”

“Yeah, not happening” you tell Sehun, already halfway out of the car, rucksack slipping from your shoulder.

He raises a brow at you.” I am not your personal driver Y/N. I had to leave my girlfriend to drive you back.”

You scoff as you roll your eyes at him.” I’ve told you to call me for an emergency. There was no picking up included.”

He mimics your words mockingly before pressing the gas pedal leaving you behind him. Unlocking your apartment door, you’re greeted with your dog sleeping in the hallway not giving you a second glance as you pass over him. Haku’s snores echo through the empty apartment warming your heart. The Shiba became your companion two years ago when you were going through a rough patch. It took some time for you to get used to each other but now you couldn’t image not having his snot buried into your business.

Turning on the lights you sit at the kitchen table pulling your leg up to rest your head on the knee. Opening your laptop, you see a few notifications popping up on the sideline about your recent orders. Just when you were about to close the notification center you see one mail standing out. The name Jung Hoseok makes you jolt in your seat.

Dear writer aka meraki,

I hope this e-mail find you well. My name is Jung Hoseok, I’m the CEO of ZER Publishing company. I’ve taken interest in your poetry and would like to have a meeting to discuss a possible collaboration between us.

Kind regards,

Jung Hoseok

The scream that came from you couldn’t possibly be human. Closing the laptop as if it will burn you, you throw it on the sofa choosing to avoid it until tomorrow.

You didn’t know how he found you giving that any personal information on the site was strictly private. Pacing back and forward you facetimed Sehun. He picks up after three very long rings making your heart beat erratically against your chest.

“I swear to God if this is another one of your emergency calls.” Sehun stands there in nothing but a towel hugging his waist. He moves to the other side of the bathroom, bare feet pacing against the marble floor.

“I got an e-mail.”

He curses, his voice muffled from the towel pressed against his face. ” You called me to tell me about a mail?”

“Not any mail, Sehun. I was contacted by Jung Hoseok.” You whisper still walking back and forward, Haku following every step of yours. Sehun tries not to pay close attention to you, getting slowly dizzy from all the commotion.

“And something tells me I should know who that is?”

You halt taking a moment to stop yourself from starting a conversation about common knowledge again, it was a sour subject. “He messaged through the mail used for Meraki.”

This time Sehun is quite for a few seconds taking in your words. You don’t see him, but you can hear deodorant spray and shuffle of clothes. “How? Isn’t that private?”

“Yes.”

And suddenly the anxious feeling was back. The poems you wrote there were strictly private, the mention of your love life and your hardships with your family were never meant to be linked back to you. You’ve checked the websites policy not wanting anyone to associate you with the account. If that were to happen you can immediately start packing your things to move to another continent.

“I am sure he didn’t hack it; nobody is that desperate. Maybe he contacted the website owner?” Sehun takes his phone, hair freshly washed strands falling over his face. He moves from the bathroom to the kitchen placing you carefully , so you could see the whole room.

You think for a second, there was a possibility. “Isn’t that a violation of my privacy?”

“I can try to read out the rights and policy. Come up with a text signed as your lawyer but Y/N” Sehun’s voice is soft, something he did to calm you down. He stood in the middle of the kitchen, eyes having an internal battle, the look you’ve seen on him in rare moments.

“Yes?”

“I am sure if you refuse, he won’t bother you. I am also sure you don’t have much to lose if you agree.”

                                                         ____

Hoseok was on his fifth coffee by noon, deprived of any sleep last night.  He was starved for a good literature piece that would leave him in myriad emotions. Sadly, he came up with an empty line. He spent his days cocooned in the corner of Suho’s café reading page by page poetry that awoke no emotion except irritation. He was on the brink of losing his mind.

Suho slides into the booth, careful not to startle Hoseok.” Have you found anything?”

Hoseok ruffles his hair before resting his head in his hands. He was desperate enough to visit fanfiction sites in hopes of stumbling upon work that had  the spark.

“Maybe you should take a break? Visit those open mic nights where people recite their poems?”

Hoseok shakes his head having already used that option last week. “I’ve been to three mic nights and not one was interesting. I am on a verge leaving everything behind to become a stripper. Yoongi did say I have an amazing body."

Sehun by now used to his friend’s dramatic antics shrugs his shoulder.” You should really take a break. You’ve been searching for a month now.”

Hoseok wished he could take a break, but the existence of his firm lay in his hands. That enough gave him tremendous worry pushing him way above his limits.

“I know but if I don’t find a good piece in a month, I can close the firm. Do you know what that means? Hundreds of people losing their job.” Hoseok wasn’t the one to crumble under pressure but now he felt like crying. Suho offered him a smile he’s seen before, the pity smile. Patting his shoulder he gets up at the sound of doors opening ,customers swarming in.

At the end of the day Hoseok thinks everything has turned against him. His laptop dies in the middle of reading, and he discovers he forgot his charger at home. In all the despair and anger he accidentally knocks over the mug spilling coffee over important documents and his newly bought jeans. The stain will probably leave a small burn that he wasn’t ready to face today. He’ll take care of it tomorrow.

On the side Suho observes his restless friend. He felt bad for not being able to help him more, but he already used all his resources and sent them anonymously to his mail only for Hoseok to turn it down.

Sehun walks into the café with his gym in one hand and candy in the other, drops of sweat forming on his forehead. He was waiting for a call from Y/N, prepared to jump into his car at any second. He greets Suho, his sight landing on an exhausted Hoseok bumping his head repeatedly against the table lightly. He hoped to never reach this point of insanity. 

“What’s his problem?”

Suho follows Sehun’s line of sight. Hoseok sits in the booth, forehead rested against the table. Both his mind and body were tired, and the clock was ticking. “He needs to find a good poetry piece to publish otherwise he’s toast.”

In that moment Sehun weights his options. He knew how self-conscious you were about your work thinking it lacked emotion and quality and this seemed like a good opportunity to prove you otherwise. On the other hand, there was the issue with people closely linked with your poems. He takes his time picking between different sugars, steering the coffee slow enough to buy him at least one more minute.

Pushing the bills to Suho he takes a sip. “There is a website called Nora, it had lots of good poetry. I've read some.”

Suho nods following Sehun out of the café promising to deliver the message to Hoseok. Once locked up he slides back into the booth watching Hoseok pack his belongings ready to call it a day. “This costumer told me about Nora site. You should give a shot.”

“Nora?” Hoseok mocks, he heard of all the websites used for writing but Nora didn’t ring a bell.

“I think it’s new. I’ve never heard of it but he seemed sure of his words. The worst that can happen is he lied and knowing Sehun that’s unlikely.”

Hoseok nods eager to go back home to his cat Nobus and prepare himself a warm bath to release the tension built up in his muscles. Waving goodbye to Sehun, he exits the shop from the back door and turns on the engine of his car driving away to the beat of classical music easing him.

Entering his small apartment located in the centre of Seoul, he throws his shoes to the side not bothering for order tonight. Slouching himself on the couch he pets Nobus, the cat bumping his head against his arm purring softly. With eyelids half closed he opens the website on his phone, picking poetry as his preferred category.

Selecting a random writer he opens the first poem, eyes scanning the text.

 I love you             like the habit I picked up in college                  of sleeping through lectures                  or saying I’m sorry                  when I get stopped for speeding             because I drink a glass of water                  in the morning                  and chain-smoke cigarettes                  all through the day             because I take my coffee Black                  and my milk with chocolate             because you keep my feet warm                  though my life a mess I love you             because deep down I know                  you'll never be mine again   (author of the poem: Nikki Giovanni, I added three last sentences)*

With every word that Hoseok took in he felt himself back in university, all drunk on the idea of loving the girl that sat two seats in front of him during microeconomics. He relives the ecstasy of having love running through his veins, he feels the desire under his fingertips for just one touch, he crumbles at the pain of finding her kissing his best friend. Hoseok feels like his heart had been ripped apart with just few simple letters placed in a neat poem.

He sees the words meraki scribbled in a messy handwriting under the poem and he feels as if his prayers have been answered.

[fairytsuk1]

sweet japan breeze | (f)

pairing: izuku midoriya x reader

genre: fluff

words: 3.2k

summary:

Midoriya grins as he traces the soft bridge of your nose, immediately looking away when you turn.

"Is there something on my face?"

"No! No, not at all."

Just the lack of a kiss, is all.

Sweat soaks through your white collared shirt and a string of curses towards the Department of Rare-Quirked Animals goes with it. Gracing you with a uniform more befitting of a tennis player, you grumble noisily. The net handle nearly slips out of your slick hands until you fumble and hold it with a grip that turns your palms white. You can see Midoriya’s green hair appear in your field of vision. He’s trying to act as if he isn’t squinting and analyzing your every behavior, but he is. The look makes you feel like you’re the rare-quirked animal.

“...What,” you squint back at him, squaring your shoulders to face him head on, “are you looking at?”

“What?! Sorry, were you concentrating? You just looked really stressed so I thought you might want a snack,” Midoriya whips his head left and right before sheepishly smiling at you, “I think we’re off trail anyways, my bad!”

You can’t find it in yourself to be annoyed with him, he’s been your partner since you first joined the DORQA. Your head aches at the thought of the insufferable acronym. If you had to see one more poster promoting their stupid monogram, you might need to be locked up.

But him. Your partner Izuku Midoriya...he always had a gleam in his emerald eyes no matter the job, and he always regarded you with a warm smile! He was the epitome of warmth and sunshine, your heart twinged at the thought of you ruining that with your sourpuss attitude.

Your hand brushes his as you take the protein bar, Midoriya’s face lighting up into beautiful shades of salmon. His back straightens and the apples of his cheeks lift. He’s so inexperienced that it’s funny to watch. He was also definitely a people-pleaser; normally you’d poke fun of him but you were too exhausted to do anything but munch on the almond-chocolate bar.

“I’m gonna radio back to headquarters so we can go back to our tent and get some dinner.”

He pulls his radio out and extends the antenna before turning away to call. A realization dawns on you whilst scanning the clear sky. It’s been four days and the white speckled fox was nowhere to be found. There hadn’t even been droppings or footprints; classifying it as extinct would make your life a lot easier but would lead to repercussions in Aizawa’s office. Aizawa...well, you didn’t want to know what would happen if you even dared to think about it.

There was absolutely no way you were going to let him call headquarters and let them know you’d failed on the excursion you begged to go on. It was just plain humiliating; the thought of Bakugou’s smug grin made you want to strangle someone. Bakugou wasn’t even here!

Midoriya had been moments away from speaking until a big fat finger slammed onto the hang-up button. Your foot beat on the ground, aura reeking of stubbornness. Midoriya cried out and turned to remedy the building lecture he was going to receive from Aizawa. You were quicker than him, swiping like a cat and jerking the phone from his grasp. The device cascaded into soft dirt and was nearly squashed under steel-toed boots.

“No way are we telling headquarters we haven’t found that damn fox yet, we’ll be here till we die as far as I’m concerned,”

“But I feel like we’re getting burnt out! Aizawa will understand!”

A loud sigh rings out as you press your palm to your forehead, squeezing your eyes shut as an attempt to calm down. “Understand my ass!” Retrieving his phone, you toss it to the boy and he lets out a sigh of relief.

“Let’s just go back to camp, okay? I can sway you with more food, can’t I?”

Your cheek twitches with the urge to smile as your eyes roll, settling on him dramatically. You cross your arms, he wasn’t going to win this battle.

“You think I’m gonna listen to you?”

“No, but I think I’m the more responsible one out of the two of us so I should at least try!”

Your shoulders drop as your jaw opens, a gasp of disbelief coming from your lips. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve screamed about the toxicity in the workplace as you stomped to Toshinori’s office. But in this moment, all you could feel was warmth washing over you. Embarrassment, you were responsible!

“I can be very responsible for your information, write that down in your little notebook!”

Picking up the forgotten net with a harrumph, you stomp your shoe to kick off dirt before walking away. Only two steps ahead, your body quickly turns around adorning the smile of someone who was losing their mind.

“You may be more responsible, but I’m more determined! I’m finding that fucking fox and you can come with me or not!”

You secretly pray he won’t report this, the termination letter left on your desk would be the final straw, your new life beginning by moving countries away and living within a secluded cabin. A strand of hair falls into your face and frustration explodes out of you with ascream. Shaking your hair out before tying it back up, Midoriya’s lips are strawberry and swollen at that point. With the way he’s biting them; they’ll turn into a pretty cherry red soon.

He shakes his head too, clearing the budding laugh in his lungs. He might’ve even looked a bit beautiful had he not been laughing at you.

He was such a nerd.

“Of course I’m coming, what kind of partner would I be if I didn’t? Besides, you need someone to keep you from losing your mind,” he settles his net on his back (firmly strapped in, he would never let you forget that important tip.) You find yourself looking away. Your eyes tug at the wants of your consciousness, desperate to admire the way his forearm flexed when adjusting his belt.

“Did you know this fox is patient and a hard-worker? Looks like you two are total opposites.”

You don’t miss the subtle dig and there’s a bruise to your ego with the way he smirks at you. Retaliation comes easy when your arms swing to capture his head in your net, a proud grin covering up the hearty laugh.

“Whoops! Looks like I caught a total dork in the wild, how’d that happen?”

His voice feels like the sunshine shining on your skin as he shakes his hair out, fluffy with his sweat gleaming under the rays. You only had a few hours left till you were blinded, only able to see his freckles in the shadow of an orange fire. The cool air that would breeze through as the two of you sat in silence, tension soon replacing the chilling wind. You slept in separate tents, professionalism was still a thing.

But you did wonder how it would feel to cuddle up under his arm and stare at the tent ceiling together. Maybe even the sky on a grassy patch in the summer. You envied your daydreams.

Every once in a while, Midoriya’s tracker beeped to remind you of where you are (well, not really, it was so you didn’t die out in the middle of nowhere) which knocks you completely out of your haze. There was no red, white, speckles, or fox anywhere. Anger courses through you at the thought of having to return back to camp empty-handed; your shoes stomping harder into mud. You rub your eyes before taking a deep breath, ready to zero in on the next nearby animal.

“We should probably go back soon, I think I might run out of water unless we find a stream but then…”

Your partner’s voice fades into obscurity when you see it, a flash of white in the corner of your eye. So fast you might have almost missed it if it weren’t for your keen senses. You could practically hear the crunching of leaves as it ran behind a bush.

In that moment it would’ve been much better to yell shhh and come at it with an element of your surprise. Your mind blanks, legs springing into action with a fierce jump. Your vocal chords could only make out one word.

“FOX!”

Both bodies soar through the air, Midoriya following your lead as you crash through the bush. Bramble sticks you in your side and your eyes shut to embrace the impact your elbows, your whole body really, were about to receive. Wind knocks out of you as you grin once you can feel yourself fully settled on the ground.

“I got you, you little…” your eyes open. You blink once, twice, you even squeeze them a bit, “...bastard.”

There is no fox, even the trees have gone silent. The pinecone with white sparkles on it sits perched perfectly on its bottom, it’s mocking you. Surely.

“That’s—”

“I know what it is, Midoriya.”

Shivers run across his skin at your cold throaty voice. Your head plunks into the ground, you lay there for a bit. It hurts so bad, if only the Earth could crack open and swallow you whole. Maybe falling into the Earth’s crust wasn’t so bad, burning to death must be colder than the shame that courses through your veins.

You can practically taste it in your saliva.

How was it possible to have made this...this rookie mistake?

“I want to die, Midoriya.”

He shushes you and lays a warm, large hand between your shoulder blades to comfort you. He winces when the shirt drags across your skin due to the moisture soaked through it.

Gross. He opts for patting your back lightly.

“It’s alright, we all make mistakes.”

“I’m considering quitting the field. How much do accountants make?”

You can hear the smile in his voice, “an actual accountant? Or is that a metaphor for something else?” He’s holding back his laugh, snorts coming out every few seconds.

Your head shoots up to give him an incredulous look, you didn’t even think he knew about that type of stuff. Let alone have the bravery to say it, your mouth opens and closes as you scramble to find something to say.

“You’re a pervert!”

His laugh echoes in your ears again like before, your own sounding out at the absolute ridiculousness of it all. Leaping towards a pinecone and now lying with a mud stain on your pristine white shirt. Things could not have gone any worse with this type of turn around. Maybe this was the good ending.

Midoriya’s hand reaches to his pocket, digging out his tracker and standing from his squat.

“Ready to go eat some nice soup from a can?”

You snort and push yourself up, kicking the pinecone with the remnants of your anger before turning to him, “soup in a can?”

“It’s all we have…” he trails off and fiddles with his tracker, “soup. Soup is all we have…”

“Yeah, you said that. What’s up? Don’t tell me...did Aizawa find out I did that?! Did you leave your radio on?” you reach towards your pocket and pull your radio out, “did I?...”

The incessant beeping you were used to hearing was silent now. When Midoriya sheepishly looks at you, flashing the dark screen of his device you think you might try to find the nearest cliff.

“Oh wow, oh great. That’s just, it broke? Like just now, it decided to fucking break?”

Rapid nods in quick succession.

“Okay. This isn’t a joke or anything right?”

“No. It is broken and you left yours.”

You spend a few minutes screaming with a stick in your mouth at the sky, the makeshift gag effective at silencing you but the rage still swirls like a storm inside you as you pace incessantly. Midoriya sits on a log, trying to radio in or charge the tracker with sun power (“it doesn’t have that capability!”) but it’s a lost cause.

You’re stuck in the forest.

“Fuck! ”

It’s not long before you’ve given up hope. You’re going to die out here to some sort of animal that will eat the meat off your bones like a plate of ribs.

“Midoriya, I feel like we’re walking in circles. I’m also going to starve to death so we should call it quits.”

“I didn’t know you were so weak! I told you we should've gone back earlier, but you’re stubborn!”

He’s mildly irritated, you can tell by the way his jaw clenches while he looks rapidly for a familiar landmark. You feel bad, you didn’t mean to be so rude. He was way more put together than you were, you needed him.

Your eyes search the surroundings, looking for something to possibly cheer him up. “Berries!” Your hand leaves the back of his shirt and you miss his disappointed frown from the disappearance of your warmth.

“We can eat these, maybe there’s hope after all.”

These are poisonous, you learn this within the first few days. If there was one thing Midoriya liked, it was teaching. You were sure if he weren’t here, he’d be helping some little kid realize their dreams of working in the safari.

“Well, aren’t those like-the poisonous ones?! Don’t put anything in your mouth!” He grabs the bush branch and shakes it away from you, the berries falling with little thumps on the ground.

You grin.

“I must be going crazy, we have got to find a way home before I mistake you for a nice piece of broccoli.”

“Shush. Look, remember when I went to pee? I found a water source.”

You blink, a dead look in your face.

“Listen, I may think you’re attractive but I’m not drinking your pee.”

He scrambles for words and shakes his head with wide eyes.

“Attractive?! I was just-there was a stream so I took the time to purify it!”

“Oh! Well, I just thought you were taking a shit.”

“You’re being inappropriate!”

Had someone been listening in, all they would be able to hear were the pleads from a male and the wonderful laugh of his partner.

Midoriya always felt golden light flow through his chest when you were around. The trail you two were on continued downhill, a man-made path making itself known once the two of you kicked astrew leaves away, it was mutually agreed to head downhill as you (possibly) recalled going uphill to get where you were in the first place.

The stars were beginning to rear their pretty heads, speckling in and out of the sky and it left a heavy feeling in your chest. You didn’t want something to happen to either of you, unconsciously clinging to Midoriya harder, you sighed shakily.

“I was joking before, but I'm actually getting a little nervous.”

You admire his freckled jawline, illuminated by the lantern he’d broken out. He gives you a quick side glance, searching for a trick being placed before nodding.

“Me too. I’m really sorry about the tracker, I should’ve charged it!”

A huff escapes you from the way he was so utterly wrong, you were the one mistaking pinecones for foxes and being ridiculous.

“No way! I was the one being immature, I’m sorry about that one. We should’ve gone back like you said.”

His shoulders square a bit more, your frame shrinking in tandem. You two were like two animals, one protecting the other with its teeth bared and stance wide.

“You’re...You’re really the reason I’m here.”

“What?”

A beat of silence passes through the both of you, your lips ruby red from the way you gnawed on them with your anxiety chilling you.

“I just mean, you’re the reason I joined. You were so little, prattling on and on...It inspired me too. I probably wouldn’t have been able to get here if it wasn’t for you.”

He’s a bit shocked, half his face is lit and you can tell he doesn’t know what to say. His mouth opens and he can’t even resist the ear to ear grin making its way to imprint his feature.

“I-I mean...well! I’m glad,” he takes a deep breath, “I have to tell you something.”

Midoriya’s hands clench at his side, dripping with sweat as you look at him with big eyes, eagerly anticipating his anecdote.

You watch as if it’s slow motion, he takes a breath and the ghost of a word escapes him but the sound of a tiny scream beats him to the finish line. You’re sure he said something, but your eyes flit past his shoulder, lower, to stare dead in the eyes of a white speckled fox.

The two of you stare in a locked gaze as it’s tail swishes back and forth. You don’t even breath, blood rushing in your ears.

“You motherfucker.”

“Huh?”

You bound past Midoriya, heels digging so hard into the ground that dirt flies up in a cloud. It was like you nearly disappeared.

“The fox Midoriya, the fox!” you cry, “I need you!”

He wasn’t sure if it was the fact he’d confessed and your selective hearing had kicked in, or the fact that it was his job. He didn’t know what made him feel so happy, maybe it was the part of you saying you needed him.

A phrase so simple that struck him in the heart. His feet dashed behind you, lantern outstretched as he cried for you, “I’m coming!”

It was like life or death, but it wasn’t. Why did everything feel so emotionally charged? Your thighs ached and the threat of collapsing was gaining on you.

It hit you though, jumping from rock to rock, that red tailing practically swishing in your face.

“I like you. More than partners, like! I want us to, you know, date and stuff.”

It was totally jerky and awkward, but the words registered in your mind when the fox darted into its burrow. You pause, careful to not ruin it’s precious home. Midoriya comes barreling beside you, barely even panting while a stitch in your side wrecks your lungs.

“Did you get it?!”

“You like me?”

Midoriya gives you an incredulous look, “you’re asking that after we just ran all the way here?!”

“It has a family.”

He sighs a loud breath and squats, “yeah. It does.”

You stare at the opening and listen to the soft squeaks in the nighttime air.

“I like you too.”

His head snaps up, voice wavering while you two share an interlocked gaze.

“Really?”

A familiar smirk quirks up, “duh. What kind of a girl follows a boy into the same field if she doesn't like him?”

Oh! He supposed it should’ve been more obvious when it was worded like that. You plop down next to him, leaning fully against him.

“We can’t capture her. She is a mother.”

“I’m glad we agree.”

The stars shine the brightest at this moment, you can’t exactly see his freckles the way you could before but you know they’re still there.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight.”

“I’m glad I could share it with you.”

A soft nudge is given to your shoulder, “I didn’t know you were such a romantic.”

You snort and let your head hang. Midoriya resists the urge to kiss you right then and there.

“I don’t know, I guess foxes just do it for me.”

A wordless hum reverberates through his chest, shifting to wrap an arm around you. The moment’s sweet.

“So, how are we going to get back home?”

“I have no idea.”