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copper-16 · 1 day ago

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Remind Me That There’s A Room To Grow Part 3

Broken, rueful, and mended as it should have been.

(a/n: Part 3, here we come! Thank you to everyone who has been reading and commenting on these, I'm so grateful! Reminder for anyone who likes a musical touch that you can find the Spotify playlist here, if you would like. Please enjoy this part, and I would love to hear your feedback about the note at the end!)

Alexia sat on that damn park bench for God knows how long.

She didn’t care if she got no sleep or looked absolutely insane sitting there for hours on end. The things you had told her rattled around in her brain disconcertedly, unending every single thought that attempted to interrupt. The brunette had gone from feeling like she was the most stable and vindicated person on the planet to a feeling as though she were a shell of herself.

This whole time, there had been so much more to the story than she ever could have imagined. And though she knew it really wasn’t their fault, resentment flared within her at how quick Eli and Alba were to blame you for everything.

Everything in Alexia felt anguished. Just thinking about looking at your face made the Catalan feel nauseous, stuck on how distraught you had been. It wasn’t as though she could blame you either, not when she had been so irate.

She had allowed herself to be influenced by every single person around her instead of trusting you, as she always had. She should have trusted herself, should have trusted the fact that she knew something was wrong. The last nine years had been spent giving you the benefit of the doubt, but when it came to it, she had treated you with such animosity.

Never in a million years had she expected the reasoning behind all of this.

Cancer. It seemed impossible for someone who was only eighteen years old, but it wasn’t as though stranger things hadn’t occurred. Now all Alexia managed to think of was how scared and alone you must have felt. She had lost you, but she did so when she was chasing her dreams. You had to watch her leave you behind because of a situation entirely out of your hands.

All this time where she had felt abandoned, and in reality it was the other way around.

What an absolutely fucked up situation.

When the footballer finally stood, a chill wrapped around her and caused her to shiver violently. She didn’t remember it getting cold, but it wasn’t as though she cared about the temperature when her mind was a ruction of emotions.

She booked it back to her car, driving herself toward her Mami’s house in what would have been considered a fury. The brunette knew that her sister was there as well, so she could kill two birds with one stone.

When she arrived, the brunette barged through the door with no care at all for the hinges, her inner turmoil gathering and growing with each and every step she took. She found her family in the kitchen, enjoying some dessert with a glass of wine in each of their hands.

“You were wrong,” Alexia seethed, almost heady with the amount of wrath she felt within her. Eli and Alba both turned to her in an instant, instantly confused at the animosity in her tone. It was so rare to hear the brunette truly upset in the way she was right now, and they glanced at each other for a second before they turned to Alexia fully.

“What happened?” Alba asked, very confused as to what her sister was talking about. They had no idea that the pair of you had talked, but Alexia didn’t care to give them context.

“You both blamed her for leaving me behind, you made her out to be the villain and she never was! This was all of your fault, how could you do this to me? How could you twist my mind in such a way?” Alexia snapped, her whole body tense with rage.

“Alexia, what the hell are you talking about?” Alba demanded, understanding dawning on the subject her sister spoke about but still confused as to the circumstances.

“She was fucking sick, you two. She let me go alone because she had cancer, and she didn’t want me to have to live through it when I was moving away. She broke up with me so I could go chase my dreams and build my career without being bogged down. She gave up her own happiness so that I could have my own,” the brunette spat, her face red with exertion. Whether it was to keep her anger inwards or to stop the tears that burned in the back of her eyes, the Catalan was unsure.

“She did it to protect me, and I gave her the benefit of the doubt for her decision for a decade before you two got so defensive and twisted my mind. She was never the selfish person you made her out to be, she was always the most selfless, empathetic, compassionate of all of us!” Alexia argued, and she seemed only to be growing more and more in her anger.

“Alexia–” Eli tried to interrupt, but she was quickly cut off.

“No! I don’t even want to hear you two attempt to explain yourselves. I don’t want to hear it. I loved her, I love her now, and I’ve fucked it all up with your words in my mouth! She left the conversation in tears, she told me to leave her alone. If you two hadn’t been so horrible about the whole thing, I never would have been so skeptical in the first place!” Alexia was ready to burst at the seams, and she couldn’t handle it.

“Now Ale, we only did that because we wanted to protect y–” Alba attempted to interject, failing just as her mother had.

“I don’t even want to hear it! I am so angry at the two of you, especially considering that you hardly let me get a word in edgewise about her character. She grew up with us, she loves us, and she trusted you with her heart just as much as you trusted her with mine. So don’t sit there and say anything, but maybe think about your own actions!” Alexia finally demanded, her words fervent in manner.

When her mother and sister said nothing but looked at her in shock, the brunette shook her head and chuckled austerely, not a trace of humor in her tone.

“God, and now you don’t even have anything to say for yourselves,” she looked around at her mother’s kitchen as she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying. The midfielder was aware she was only redirecting her anger onto two people whose blame was minimal, but the affliction in her heart needed somewhere to go.

“I have to go, I will talk to you two later,” Alexia said after a second, defeat heavy in her expression as the anger began to drain out of her. It was replaced by an excruciating misery that weighed on her shoulders exactingly, as though it knew that she was really the one to blame in all of this.

She felt as though she had lead in her shoes as she walked out to her car. The drive back to her apartment was done in complete silence, the Catalan unable to deal with anything other than the chaos in her mind.

She barely made it one step in the door before the first sob bubbled up her throat. She finally allowed herself to succumb to it, sobbing so hard that her ribs ached and her eyes swelled, and she had nobody to blame for everything except for herself.

—

Every single person on the team could immediately tell something was wrong with Alexia when she showed up at training the next day.

Alexia had always been the most dedicated of them all, relentless in her pursuit to be better. She was endlessly pushing herself and those around her to be their best selves, and it paid off. The team worked hard, and they looked better than ever. The Catalan had helped to lift them from relative obscurity into a team that people feared to play, and as much as Vicky was their fearless leader, every single player would tell you that the Catalan was their beating heart.

But today? Well, today the brunette looked about two steps away from death as she walked into the changing room.

Her eyes were swollen and bloodshot. Her hair was mildly unkempt, her skin sullen, the bags under her eyes endlessly listless. She kept her head down, and changed as though she wished she could curl up into a ball and never be seen again. The midfielder was usually a quiet person, but today she seemed…unobservant.

Somehow, that made all of it seem worse.

Jenni and Mariona were instantly alarmed because they knew what had happened, while the other girls were both confused and in a state of shock. Nobody had ever seen Alexia this clearly upset, considering the fact that she typically kept things close to her chest.

To be this outwardly downtrodden was incomprehensible, to the point where the rest of the team wasn’t sure how to act toward her. They all seemed to avoid her as though she was radioactive, and she made no attempt to engage with any of them.

Jenni, Mariona, and Vicky, however, had no problem marching over to the Catalan as they created a concerned cocoon around her.

“What happened Alexia?” Vicky questioned gently, only to receive nothing short of the death glare back from Jenni and Mariona in response.

“How did it go?” Mariona amended quietly, hopeful that they might have been able to draw out some sort of reaction from the midfielder. It was clear the conversation had not gone well, but they did not know why.

And sure enough, Alexia’s entire face flashed into something nearly venomous, and she shook her head with what looked to be a clearly concerted effort to remain in control.

“Nothing. I would appreciate it if everyone left me alone and we could conduct training as normal, like we are supposed to be doing,” she managed to grit out pointedly, her voice bolstered with hostility and malice. The three women looked around at each other, none of them in the least bit convinced, but the mutually agreed upon decision seemed to be that they clearly weren’t going to get anything out of the brunette right now.

The midfielder was a monster at training that day, and not in a good way.

Every single ball was launched with a lethal ferocity. Every single pass was too hard, every single first touch sloppy and heavy.

None of the movements were reminiscent of the Alexia that everyone had come to know. It wasn’t great football, it wasn’t even good football. The midfielder was clearly angry at something, and the longer practice went on, the worse it got. The Catalan was frustrated with herself, bitter and enraged at how she seemed unable to play with any ounce of grace.

It felt ironically similar to how she seemed unable to converse with you without accusation, a thought she was ruefully reminded of.

It was when she sent a ball flying angled toward Caro’s head that Vicky and Marta finally pulled the midfielder aside brashly. The captain of the team had taken one look at their manager, whose expression agreed with her own, to know what needed to be done.

“You’re done for the day,” Vicky stated without an ounce of discussion left in the conversation. Alexia certainly wasn’t in the mood to be ordered around as she decisively brushed them off.

“I’m fine, we still have another half hou–” The brunette was cut off without even managing to finish her sentence.

“No. You are done, you’re going to go back to the changing room and take a long shower. You’re going to get dressed and go home and process whatever you’re trying to avoid right now by almost murdering your teammates,” the Barcelona captain dictated with even greater finality, her eyebrow raised as though she dared the younger woman to argue with her.

Alexia looked posed to respond, but when she caught Marta looking back at the Norwegian with worried eyes, she felt the fight drain out of her. The older Spaniard had always had a sweet spot for the nervous Wolfsburg transfer, and seeing it right in front of her eyes made her deflate like a balloon.

She knew that look.

She had lived that look before, when she hadn’t fucked all of this up seven ways to Sunday.

With a reluctant, apologetic glance at Marta, the midfielder nodded her head. She turned on her heels, much to the surprise of her co-captains, who were honestly expecting more of a pushback.

As they watched the midfielder walk off the pitch, they stared at the way her body seemed to curl in on herself, almost as though the brunette couldn’t bear to stand up straight as she stared down at her feet.

“What the hell happened?” Marta asked Vicky as she looked over at her captain. But the Barcelona captain was unable to tear her eyes away from Alexia’s retreating form until it disappeared into the building. It was only then that she looked over at Jenni, who hovered a short distance away from them with a look of unease on her face.

Vicky shook her head before she turned back to the pitch.

“I honestly have no idea,” she replied curtly as she made direct eye contact with Jenni, who seemed to understand the silent request of her captain as she turned back toward practice.

When the team filed in after training was done, Alexia and all of her stuff were gone, nowhere to be seen.

—

Nine years.

You had lived with the grief of losing her for nine years. You would never change your mind on the decision, but God did it feel as though you were sucking the blood out of your body. Even all of these years later, it still stung to think about how much you had lost in that moment.

Alexia took every ounce of happiness and peace with her when she left. While you still had other friends, you were by no means alone, it was never the same without her there. You hardly had to speak a single word for the brunette to understand where your mind was at. There was a closeness to the two of you that was impossible to replace. It hadn’t been the same after she had left, no longer having a confidant who held space for you.

Your father, while a lovely man, was never terribly involved in your life. He loved you, but having children was never his dream, and with how much he worked, you rarely saw him. It was a loss that you didn’t feel rather acutely, especially not when Jaume had swept you into his orbit through your friendship with Alexia. He had loved you like a daughter, and you cherished him for it in a way you had never managed with your own father.

Your two younger brothers, Leo and Adan, had struggled when you had gotten sick. They always looked up to you as their protector and ring leader. Seeing you unable to help, organize, and work as you usually did was strange for them, especially considering the fact that they were only fifteen and fourteen at the time. And while you spent much of your childhood watching over them with a loving gaze, it was your mother who stepped up to take care of them more.

Your mother Paula was a lovely, exuberant woman, if not a touch frazzled. She was a better entertainer than she was a mother, but there was no question she loved the three of you. The two of you had been a team in helping to raise the boys, because while your mother had wisdom you were steadfast in your ability to calm. You had been a significant help in raising the two boys, and your mother had come to rely on you as a result. It had all gotten thrown out of place when you had gotten sick. Your mother tried to pick up the slack, bless her, but she struggled. She did as best as she could until you were declared cancer free, and able to help pick up some of the slack that had been created. It helped that your brothers were compassionate and kind, never one to try and cause too much trouble.

Your mother passed away just a few years ago because of a brain aneurysm, much to the devastation of your father. While you missed her terribly, you never needed her for stability and strength. That was found on your own.

Chemo treatments were mostly done on your own, a book and a sick bag in hand. It was a tough three months, but you made it through with as big of a smile as you could muster. A friend would accompany you occasionally, but they never quite knew what to do when they were there with you. Not that you faulted them for it, but it only made you more exhausted having to entertain on top of feeling ill.

After a grueling few months, the tumor had shrunk enough to be surgically removed, and a few rounds of radiation killed off the last of it. It had been less than a year to get rid of everything, though in your mind it had felt much longer.

Overall, the treatment had gone well from a medical perspective. You had responded well and were declared to be in remission swiftly. You were young and otherwise healthy, making you the perfect candidate to respond to treatment.

That didn’t seem to account for the ache that persisted deep in your chest, but it wasn’t as a result of your sickness. The sense of loss that pervaded your mind for years afterward was impossible to banish. You had not made a mistake, and yet your mind and body betrayed you with a wanton amount of unearned yearning.

There was a restlessness that existed within you, a restlessness that needed to be solved and yet had nowhere to go.

You had begun university toward the end of your treatments and sped through a track in finance, turning heads each and every way you went. There was always a level of intelligence to you that you were aware of, but investment analysis and management came naturally to you it seemed.

Though you had the opportunity to go earlier, you waited dutifully for your brothers to finish school and go off to university before you left your hometown. Leo ended up in Valencia for school, and a year later Adan made the decision to stay in Madrid for his degree.

Once you were certain your brothers were settled, you began to dig for opportunities in your own career. The work you had put in paid off, and you had offers not only in Spain but France, Italy, the United States as well.

You didn’t care about any of that, though. You took the one job that put you directly in Barcelona and decided to figure it out from there.

There was a safety and security to being in the same city as Alexia, even if she had no clue you were there. You were thankful for the move, honestly, thankful for the opportunity to meet new friends and build your own life. The sun forever shined and the city was exciting and vibrant, devoid of the reminders that face you everywhere in Madrid.

Both of your brothers ended up staying in or returning to Madrid, living near your mother until her death and trying to stay vaguely connected to your father. He had struggled immensely in the wake of her passing, but both Leo and Adan never seemed to mind stepping in to keep him on the right path.

By all logical standards, you had a wonderful life. An amazing group of friends, a job you really enjoyed, hobbies you found interesting. It felt like the whole package of what someone would want in their life.

But you found in the morning after your talk with Alexia, there was nothing you wanted to do with this life. You simply wanted to be left alone to rot, and you found that you didn’t care who disagreed. The longing in your heart threatened to swallow you whole, your hatred for your decisions every single day of the last nine years.

You had finally been honest with Alexia, you had told her the truth…but was it worth it?

Based on the feeling inside of you right now, it wasn’t worth it.

You would have taken anger over devastation on her face any day.

You loved her too much to care about your own peace of mind.

And yet…

—

Alexia nearly jumped out of her skin when she unlocked the door of her apartment, only to find that Jenni was sitting on her couch with a glass of lemonade and a raised brow. The midfielder did a complete double take, confounded when she reminded herself that the door had in fact been locked before she came in here.

“How the hell did you get in here?” The Catalan asked with confusion as her heart rate struggled to return to an acceptable level. She looked around her apartment with a perplexed glint to her expression, as though she expected to find the answer laying in front of her in the form of a crowbar or something.

“Oh please, we’ve been friends for many years. We are both allowed to have our little secrets, no?” Jenni diverted, and Alexia shook her head instantly, looking toward the striker with a lost expression.

“What – no?! That doesn’t mean you get to break into my apartment! How did you even get in her–”

“This is not the point of this conversation, Alexia,” Jenni cut her friend off easily, ignoring how bewildered the brunette was as a result of her surprise appearance. The striker settled, a concerned look flashing across her features. “You fucked up that conversation, didn’t you?”

“You’re not allowed to just barge in here whenever you want!” Alexia spat, a sudden rush of anger coursing through her at Jenni’s words. Defensiveness coursed through her veins with a fury, and nobody had managed to pin her down for long enough to have a real conversation with her.

Until now, apparently.

When the raven-haired woman leveled her with a disbelieving stare, the Catalan’s shoulders collapsed just slightly. When Jenni wanted something, she was like a dog with a bone. She would stop at absolutely nothing to get it, and the midfielder knew there was no way of getting out of this conversation with anger or deflections. She sighed forcefully, settling her keys down on her kitchen counter and pressing her head into her hands.

“I did,” she conceded after a moment, her voice shaky and impossibly quiet. When she finally looked up, the torment inside her entire body seemed to reflect in her expression. Jenni felt horrible, seeing how torn up her friend was.

“I fucked everything up Jenni, everything. I came into it with so much aggression and fear, and made all these accusations I don’t even really think I meant,” she admitted with a humorless chuckle, an echo of agony in her words.

Silence cascaded around them, the air thick with regret and despondency.

“She was sick,” Alexia revealed after a moment. She glanced up at Jenni, struggling to control herself. “She was sick, and so she broke things off because she couldn’t leave, but she wanted me to. She saved my career, made a sacrifice for my own happiness, and in return I screamed horrible things at her. What kind of person does that make me?” Alexia pleaded, her voice cracking over the last sentence.

Jenni thought about the question for a moment before she shook her head and looked back at Alexia. There was a compassion in her expression, and the Catalan forced herself to look away in the face of it. She didn’t deserve it.

“It makes you human, Alexia,” the raven-haired woman countered, her words soft and sympathetic, almost saccharine in their amount of sweetness.

“No it doesn’t,” Alexia grumbled under her breath, but Jenni was quick to continue.

“Yes it does. You did not have all the information at the time. And okay, you said some things you regret? Go apologize for them then! You made a mistake, and you feel remorse, Alexia. That in and of itself means that there is love and compassion in your heart.”

“And if she doesn’t accept that apology?” Alexia shot back, fighting to be kind as she was gripped with fear. She looked over at Jenni with a flame in her eyes, anything to hide how upset she truly was. It was easier to mask it than it was to face it, after all.

“Then she doesn’t accept the apology, and life moves on. But you won’t know if you don’t even bother to try,” Jenni offered as she walked over and placed a hand on her friend's shoulder comfortingly.

“Forgive yourself enough to give her the opportunity to forgive you. If she was in your spot, you would do the same. If she cares as much about you as you say she does, I think you have a fighting chance,” the striker suggested, her voice gentle. The brunette remained deep in thought, thinking hard about Jenni’s words. The raven-haired woman let herself out before Alexia could even formulate a response.

And while there were a lot of thoughts swirling around in Alexia’s mind, perhaps the top of the list was that she really, really needed to get a locksmith to her apartment.

—

It was a thought that often consumed the brunette as her career began to take off. It had been a question, something that weighed on her mind in the dark of night when she lay alone.

Was it worth it?

The duty to herself, to her career pulled at her endlessly. Everyone around her was dedicated to their career, putting it above their family at nearly all cost. And she understood, she wanted to be the best. The pull to change the sport, to leave a legacy behind that made women’s football better than where she had started.

But what was the cost?

How many family dinners had she missed? How many birthdays? How many celebrations?

How many moments had she missed, even just the mundane, small things in life. How many inside jokes and how much late night laughter had evaded her because of this choice?

And she knew that her family loved her, and that they understood how important her career was to her. But it never took away from the fact that she was gone often. That unlike her teammates and peers, she spent the least amount of time with her family as the years had passed. Whereas many of her friends grew more committed to their families, getting married and even having children, football had become her sole focus in life.

Other than you, she had never been in a committed relationship with anyone. Her friendships were from football, everything in her life had revolved around football. Protecting her image, embracing the game, doing whatever she could to advance the team and herself to perfection.

It wasn’t until you had stumbled back into her life that suddenly she remembered what it had been like to live a life. And sure, she knew that her career was different now, much more intense. But the Catalan also knew that you never would have allowed her to become so overwhelmingly immersed into her career.

It was less the time commitment and more the mindset she approached her career with that had changed in your absence. Alexia had always assumed that in order to be the best, she had to be so devoted to football in every aspect of her entire life. That there was no room outside of it for distractions.

Her friends hadn’t become worse because they had loved ones, because they took a step back. They were still dedicated, but also well rested and prepared.

The two of you had been together for so many years, and then football had been the thing to divide you. It was Alexia’s career that had been prioritized above you, a decision that you had made and believed in.

Had you really ever thought you were more important than football?

Had she done that? Had she felt that you were more important than football?

All she could think of was how you were sick and alone, a burden to bear alone when you should have been loved and supported.

Alexia was not angry that you hadn’t told her, not by a long shot. But she was furious with the circumstances, with her own choices, with everything else in the situation besides you.

You had meant so much to her, and she had let you go without any recourse. She never even considered that there was so much depth to the decision you had made.

And now here she stood, trying to pick up the pieces of something that had gone from broken to shattered entirely.

Alexia knew that she loved you.

That she still loves you, even after all this time. There were parts of a person that never changed, and she saw it in your expression.

Even after all this time.

Her career came first in every aspect of her life, but maybe just this once it didn’t have to. Maybe some personal happiness was deserved, maybe it could be her choice to try and fix this.

Maybe she deserved a break, or some peace, or to undo all of the mistakes she had made in the last decade. Maybe the choice she made here would make her better, and not worse.

The brunette had no idea if you still loved her anymore, not after the appalling things she had said, but she couldn’t let it go without at least trying to get you back.

She had lost you once, and she wasn’t prepared to let it happen again without a fight.

—

Alexia can’t bring herself to pick up the phone and dial, so she took the coward's way out and texted you to ask for your address.

Much to her surprise, you answered her. It’s nothing more than the address rattled off, but it’s there. The brunette felt her heart constrict for a moment at the thought that it wasn’t really your address, that you had sent her a fake location.

But at the same time, even if that were the case, a part of her would understand. For all the years that she had been hurt and alone and yearning desperately for you, it had been the same for you.

The choice you had made was impossible, indescribable even, and Alexia knows in her heart that her career wouldn’t be where it was without your sacrifice. You had sacrificed your own dream so that she could live hers, and when it all came back to the two of you all these years later, she had completely desecrated that sacrifice without a second thought.

She continued to be appalled with herself over that entire conversation. It was all she saw every time she closed her eyes, the words she had said rattling around in her brain all night long.

The look on your face as she dug herself into a deeper hole, filled with disregard for how much care you had tried to give the situation. It was never going to be perfect, but you had tried to be perfect. And in that moment, she had acted as though it wasn’t enough.

It was.

You had always been more than enough for her, regardless of whether you two were together or not.

Every single time she had laid in bed since, memories both good and bad of the two of you had pooled in her eyes, rolling down her cheek and escaping onto the pillow beneath her.

She had lost her curiosity inside the ferocity of her own judgement, and she regretted it with every molecule inside of her. She regretted it so much that it made her feel physically ill, to the point where she no longer cared about being appropriate or saving face.

It was late in the evening when she drove over to your apartment. She had a plan to go on Sunday morning, but it was Friday night and her self restraint had ground away until it no longer existed.

The Catalan took the steps two at a time up to the third floor, knowing that each moment likely brought her closer to you. She hoped it did, at least. It was highly possible that you were out with friends or doing something fun, as you should be.

But still hope gripped her with a strength she was unaware she ever had. Loving you was never the detractor she had spent the last decade convincing herself it was, but was where she got her strength.

Loving you had breathed life into her and she was silly to have ever thought differently.

She knocked on the door to your apartment before she could stop herself from overthinking every single one of her life choices. Her knuckles struck against the wooden door exactly three times, each one more forceful than the lost.

The brunette waited with everything in her for the sound of anything in the wake of knocking. Any movement, any sign of life, anything. The seconds felt like hours and years as her heart rammed its way into her throat.

And then she heard it, the softness of your voice as you called out that you were coming.

Alexia was known for being a stoic person, never one to overly show emotion. She kept everything close to her chest, and rarely did she express how she was feeling. It took hours of knowing her, and even then she was still hesitant to show weakness.

But the tears were pooling in her eyes even before you opened the door.

And there you were.

Standing in your pajamas, a book in your hand and an expression of mild surprise at the sight of Alexia nearly in tears at your door. It certainly wasn’t what you were expecting, though you knew the footballer had your address.

“Ale?” You questioned softly, your voice barely there. The brunette swallowed thickly, trying and failing to conjure an apologetic smile.

“I am sorry…I meant to come later but I couldn’t…wait,” she finished lamely, rather breathless as she fought to keep the pressure in her throat from turning into full blown sobs. You stared at her for a second, at how tense she was, at the anxiety written across her face. After you had tucked some of the hair away from your face, you stepped back into your apartment and widened the opening of the door.

“Would you like to come in?” You proposed, and the footballer took your offer up with a shaky nod of her head.

The brunette trailed after you further into the apartment. It was a large apartment, but it felt cozy and lived in. Half-burned candles and ear-marked books were strewn around the space, and a throw blanket could be found on every surface.

She remembered that you had always run cold. When the two of you were young and in love, she would whisper to you about the warmth Barcelona would offer, even as she provided you plenty of her own body heat as she laid curled around you.

“Alexia?” You probed lightly, and she shook her head as she glanced up, realizing that she had let her mind wander. Concern and compassion stared right back at her.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she replied harshly, trying and failing to be discreet as she wiped at her eyes.

“You don’t have to be,” you said delicately, gesturing toward the couch. “Why don’t we sit down?”

You couldn’t help but realize that right now with just one look at Alexia, you already forgave her. Every line etched into her skin was written with devastation and contrition. Somewhere deep within you knew how she felt, and knew that she did not mean the things she had said.

There was so much information to process, so much confusion and chaos, that you had both lost yourselves.

Maybe there was an opportunity to be found again.

You weren’t going to let the weakness of one moment detract from the opportunity that lay in front of you.

You led her over to the couch, and the pair of you settled down across from one another. You sat with your back against one arm of the couch, while Alexia was across from you, her hands on her knees. Her knuckles were nearly white, and you wished in that moment to reach out and soothe the ache in her heart, even if you knew that you couldn’t. When the midfielder turned toward you, all you found facing you was suppliance.

“I cannot explain to you how sorry I am,” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. “I had no idea the sacrifice you had made for me, I had no idea that there was so much more behind all of this. I was foolish to believe that you broke up with me over something selfish or petty.”

She seemed to bite her words back, as though her self-loathing was simply too great of a burden to contain for a moment. When she settled, the Catalan continued.

“I never should have spoken to you that way. The truth is that I’ve spent the last nine years missing you, thinking about you, unable to get myself over the years we spent together. It feels as though you’ve been out of my life as long as you were in it, and I hate that. I hate that I haven’t been able to grow with you. I hate that when I lay awake at night I miss you with an ache I cannot even begin to describe to you. I hate that I wasn’t able to be there for you when you needed me. I hate that your sacrifice probably saved my career, even though I wish with everything in me that I was there for you when you needed me,” Alexia finally admitted, deciding to be nothing but brutally honest.

“And I won’t lie to you and say there haven’t been other women in the years without you, but God it never compared to you. I didn’t give a shit about any of them, and I never really expected to. You’re intertwined within my soul in a way I don’t even fully understand, and living without you feels like walking around missing a limb. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten over you, and I tried to force football down my throat because if it was the reason I lost you, it had to be worth it.”

“I miss your smile and your laugh. I miss the way you roll your eyes at me when I do something ridiculous, or how patient you are with me when I get frustrated. I still find myself looking for you in every crowd, at every family gathering, everywhere. When I finally did see you again, it felt like a fever dream. The one thing I’ve wanted for the last nine years was granted to me, and there you were.”

“You were standing there so perfectly and in one piece, and inexplicably, you seem to care about me still. I never could have imagined that happening, even if I dreamt about it every single night of my life that you haven’t been in,” Alexia continued, allowing herself to take a deep breath and center herself. Frustration passed over her face for a moment, entirely

“I fucked this up royally, I know. I let the fear in my heart and the fear that those around me held get in the way of seeing the truth, and I need you to know how sorry I am. I never should have treated you that way. I never should have acted toward you with such hostility. I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know that everything I said, I don’t believe. You are brave and wonderful and empathetic, and so, so, extraordinary. Please do not let anyone else ever say that you are not,” Alexia urged, looking at you with such clear intent you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

“I still love you, Flori. I think that I always will. My heart knows what it means to love and be loved by you, and nothing will ever compare to that feeling. My heart was always yours to break, and I don’t care if you do it once or twice or a million times. All I know is that even if you don’t feel the same way, I need you to know that I love you,” Alexia said with finality, barely able to see against the blur of tears that swarmed in her eyes.

You stood up from your end of the couch slowly while her eyes tracked every single one of your movements. You walked closer to her, settling down next to her as closely as you could while you reached over to place your shaking hands against the frame of her face.

“You big, blithering idiot, of course I still love you,” you whispered fiercely, your face scrunched up somewhere between disbelief and teasing. Alexia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was even holding, the entire upper half of her body collapsing into you.

It was easy for you to catch the brunette, cradling her against you as she sobbed without restraint against you. It was easy to rock her back and forth softly, while you whispered sweet nothings into her ears. And it was just as easy to pull her away from you and utter the words she never thought she would hear.

“I forgive you, and of course I still love you Ale. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and you still are. I’m right here, and I don’t plan on going anywhere, if you’ll have me. We might have lost our chance when we were young, but maybe we can have another one?” You proposed hopefully, almost with disbelief. Neither of you ever expected for this to be anywhere near possible, but here you both were.

The Catalan’s expression broke entirely, silent tears rolling down her cheeks in defiance as she placed a hand on your arm and held it tightly.

“I’m here,” was all she could manage, but it was enough.

You leaned into her slowly as you glanced down at her lips, giving her time to pull away. It was a concern you needn't be worried about when she met you halfway, the feeling one of muscle memory even after all this time. You could taste the salt from her tears and yours as you kissed her.

“Please stay,” you murmured through the ball in your throat as you pulled away just a touch, and Alexia gripped you impossibly tighter as she pulled you into a hug.

For the first time in nine years, you fell asleep that night with the footballer’s body curled around your own, the feel of her chest breathing steadily against your back as she held you in her arms with content.

It was the first time in a long while that you had felt warm enough when going to sleep, and hope ballooned inside you fervently.

(a/n: So…anyone up for parts 4-10?)

#alexia putellas x reader #Alexia Putellas #barcelona femeni #jenni hermoso #mariona caldentey #woso x reader #Woso

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zorostitties · 2 days ago

Text

Aurora, 4 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 6k

A/N: God!!! I can't believe I finished this chapter so fast!!!! I really wanted to post it before monday. Hope this makes your sunday night a bit less depressing!! Thank you for all the comments past chapter 💞💞 they really motivate me to keep writing! Without further ado, please enjoy <3

⤕ Chapters: check masterlist in bio! ⤕ Also on AO3

Dracula.

Your reflection on the lake’s surface was distorted – the perfect materialization of your troubled mind.

Dracula.

An acrid taste had been in your tongue for the past hours, making you wonder if you’d actually picked a poisonous mushroom by mistake. No… that probably wasn’t the reason. Your back was as straight as iron, your hands politely over your knees, as you strongly avoided even glancing at the half vampire in front of you while he and Richter rowed the boat.

Dracula was considered by many the Vampire King for a long time. He was extremely powerful.

Richter’s words had been replaying in your head nonstop. You thought about that entire conversation again, and again, and again, trying to put your finger on what exactly triggered that… memory. If you could call it a memory, that is.

It was more of a feeling.

Dracula.

The mention of that name made a shiver run down your spine. Made your reflexes sharpen as if, suddenly, you were in the presence of a hungry wolf ready to launch at you. Not a face awakened in your mind – but a sense of danger that, somehow, felt extremely familiar. As if “Dracula” wasn’t the name of a man, but of a natural disaster, like an erupting volcano.

Where have you heard of that name before?

Perhaps Erzsebet or Drolta had mentioned it around you? After all, Richter said he used to be the Vampire King, and Erzsebet considered herself the Vampire Queen – goddess –; it might’ve made sense for her to talk about him at some point. But why did that name evoked such fear in your gut? Richter also said that this Dracula had been killed hundreds of years ago. You couldn’t have actually met him. Although your sense of time was distorted, there’s no way you’d been alive for that long. You were not a vampire.

And yet… you healed like one.

The more you thought about it, the larger the question mark grew in your thoughts.

Why did you heal?

It wasn’t exactly an ability – you hadn’t learned it, your body just did it. You had no control over it. If you had, you wouldn’t have bothered staying alive for so long under Erzebet’s imprisonment. It was more of a… condition. No matter to what extremes Drolta went with her punishments or Erzsebet’s with her hobby of hurting you when she was bored, your body always mended itself back together.

In fact…

It was more than just “mending” itself back together. It could regrow if necessary.

Vampires could heal from injuries that were fatal for humans. But you’d seen vampires die a lot, too – by Erzsebet’s hands, by Alucard’s hands, by Richter and Annette’s hands. You’d never seen a vampire regrow entire limbs if they were cut using magic or sanctified weapons.

You didn’t heal like a vampire, as Alucard stated back then.

You healed better than one.

It was a bit baffling on your part to have never questioned this condition of yours. Now that you were experiencing the real world, you understood just how truly odd you were. This thing couldn’t be normal and you had no idea why. You were beginning to hate this word – why, why, why. Your existence was surrounded by whys, but your stupid head couldn’t say no becauses, it could only bring forward more whys–

Annette woke up with a loud gasp that made you gasp and flinch away from her.

The girl had been sleeping for the past hour, laying in front of you in a position that couldn’t be comfortable. She jumped to a sitting position, aiming her blade to… nothing, in such a sudden move that yanked you out of your own head and made the two man stop rowing the boat.

She was trembling. The three of you stared at her in shock for some seconds.

“...Annette,” Richter said quietly, as if afraid to scare her. “It’s okay. It was just a dream.”

The girl in yellow didn’t look at him, though, keeping her scared sight glued ahead.

“Are those dreams, too?”

Finally, you looked at where she was pointing with her blade.

It took a while to understand what was between the trees under the moonlight. You narrowed your eyes… and when you understood what you were seeing, you couldn’t help but gasp.

Corpses.

Countless corpses hanging from the trees on the river bank.

“This is Erzsebet’s doing,” Alucard said in a somber tone.

“But we’re miles from Machecoul,” Richter was in disbelief.

Alucard closed his eyes for a moment – a subtle and solemn act of respect, perhaps. “She has followers. Everywhere.”

But then, the wind brought voices to your ears. Groans. Screams. Cries.

There were still people there.

And yet – Alucard would go on to say the thing that would shock you the most.

“Keep rowing.”

The three of you looked at him in disbelief.

That’s… not what you were expecting of him. At all.

Perhaps the fact that, up until now, Alucard had been kind to you in ways that no other person ever were made you get a wrong image of him. A… softer image. You thought he wouldn’t refuse help to anyone, ever. You… didn’t expect his heart could be cold like that.

“Are you just going to leave them behind?” You blurted out before you could control yourself – and immediately regretted it.

Alucard didn’t look exactly angry; his face had the nonchalant expression you were getting used to. Yet, the way he slightly furrowed his brows made you shiver. I should’ve stayed shut, you reprimanded yourself. What right do I have to ask him to put himself in danger for anyone when I myself am pretty useless? What if Alucard gets angry at me? What if he starts hating me from now on?

“We don’t have time for distractions,” he replied, still rowing, still in that same controlled voice.

“But there are people in that village,” Annette argued. She looked angry at Alucard. “They’ll get killed if we don’t help them!” Richter looked from her to the hung bodies back to the vampire, not moving his oar.

“They’re right. We can’t just pass them by,” the blue eyed boy agreed.

The furrow in Alucard’s face deepened.

“If we rush to rescue every distressed villager, Erzsebet will rule the whole country before we have half a chance to stop her.” For the first time, Alucard’s tone showed a bit of emotion – annoyance. But the Belmont started to row towards the margin anyway. “Richter.”

If the white-haired vampire called you using that warning tone, you would’ve stopped whatever you were doing. But Richter wasn’t scared like you. He didn’t care about Alucard’s reprimand and instead kept rowing. Alucard could’ve stopped him, could’ve argued more – but, surprising you once again, he just let out a tired sigh.

Annette and Richter got out of the boat in a jump before it even touched the margin, not caring to wet their boots, and ran into the forest.

You were frozen. Heavens, what have you started? Well, you couldn’t assume that the other two wouldn’t act even if you stayed shut, but you were the first to speak up anyway. What if Alucard was angry at you? You wouldn’t be helpful anyway, so why did you even open your mouth?

Being alone with him for those brief seconds was like torture. You avoided his gaze, already feeling sweat forming on your temples, waiting for some sort of punishment.

But Alucard let out another tired sigh.

When he got up, you had no choice but to look at him. Indeed, he didn’t look angry. Just tired.

“Let’s get this over with, then.” He murmured more to himself than to you.

It was so quick that your brain didn’t properly register what was happening.

His arm got around your waist, forcing you to get up in a firm grip, gluing your back on his torso as if you didn’t weigh more than a watermelon. Then, you saw a red glow spread from his body to yours–

And you didn’t see anything anymore.

For a split second, you thought you got blind.

No, it wasn’t that–

Alucard was moving so fast that your eyes couldn’t distinguish what the hell they were seeing.

Everything became a blur. You heard the shuffle of leaves, wind howling on your ears– and then, you weren’t on the boat anymore, but deep within the forest – surrounded by vampires.

Your stomach dropped. The world spun around. Alucard carried you under his arm like someone carries a dog, your feet weren’t even touching the ground anymore.

The vampires looked as shocked as you, at least.

All of them launched at Alucard at the same moment he unsheathed his long sword.

Instinctively, you covered your head with your hands (as if it’d do much) while the white-haired vampire swung his sword around – and then everything became an incomprehensible cacophony of steel against steel, flesh being slashed and pierced, groans of effort and pain. Alucard was ridiculously superior to any of them; they were less of a threat than the guards at Erzebet’s chateau.

When the clearing had nothing but mutilated corpses, he did that thing again – red glow, wind swooshing, vision getting dark – and rushed to another clearing after a new group of vampires. You felt the taste of mushrooms on your tongue, but forced yourself to swallow it back, covering your mouth with both hands.

This is how a potato sack must feel, a stupid voice whispered in your head. You tried to focus your sight on anything, but Alucard moved so fast that it was impossible; sometimes he made his long cape fall over your body to confuse any attacks aimed at you, making it even more impossible to understand what was happening.

Two last enemies remained. One of them was running away. Alucard let go of his sword and the weapon flew on a beeline towards him; it impaled the vampire on a tree.

The other enemy launched itself at you, screaming in a last desperate attempt. Alucard raised you up with a single arm to get you out of danger’s line, his hand on your back as if you were quite literally a tray, and kicked the vampire on the stomach with such force that you were sure that you heard his spine breaking apart; the man shocked against one, two, three trees, destroying them on his way, before Alucard’s obedient flying sword landed the finishing blow.

And you were alone.

Only then Alucard put you on the floor.

“I think that was all,” he said – once again to himself, not to you – and held his sword. He didn’t show a sign of fatigue or… anything. Not even his hair was disheveled, as if it was magical like his sword and each strand could simply go back to its place. “Let’s see if the others finished–“

He interrupted himself when he saw your position – bent over, one hand on your stomach and the other covering your mouth.

“...Are you oka–“ He was about to ask – showing the most emotion up until then – but you lifted your finger at him.

“J-Just give me a–“ don’t vomit don’t vomit don’t vomit don’t vomit– “A second. Please.”

Surprisingly, Alucard obeyed.

You breathed slowly, in and out, focusing every fiber of your being into not throwing up. We don’t have time for that, you repeated like a mantra. When you felt the nausea fading away, you straightened your back and brushed the dust off your skirt, turning to him.

“Please, the next time you do that,” you said in a weak, breathless voice, as if you were the one relentlessly fighting vampires a second ago, “I’d like to know first.”

Alucard looked speechless at first, then you saw the ghost of a smile on his lips – oh, of course he finds my state quite funny, as if it wasn’t humiliating enough. He opened his mouth to say something–

A sharp pain on the left side of your face.

You stumbled back in pure shock.

You hadn’t noticed the trap in front of you – a deep hole on the ground covered by a carpet of leaves, some sort of trap for wolves, perhaps. From said hole, a vampire jumped up, launching himself in the air, his nails sharper than any knife and now covered with your blood.

The world moved in slow motion for maybe three seconds. You saw the man’s devious smile – he was probably so proud of himself for fooling both of you; his hiss made your skin crawl. You were his target. His landing trajectory was you, and his nails were once again ready to hurt you.

He never had the time.

The world was still moving in slow motion when Alucard sliced him in half. You watched in grotesque precision as the sharp blade cut through the skin of his stomach, his flesh, his guts, his spine. The cocky smile never faded away. The vampire didn’t even have time to realize he was dying.

Everything went back to its normal speed. You didn’t want to look at the body hitting the ground.

You stumbled two more steps back, instinctively touching your left cheek with your fingertips and wincing in pain. Hell. These weren’t just cuts – felt more like gashes. You realized that you couldn’t open your left eye anymore. Blood dripped down your face.

Wounds like that weren’t anything out of the ordinary. They hurt, yes – but you felt, at most, annoyed. How did you let yourself get hurt like that, even after all of Alucard’s efforts in keeping you safe?

And yet – your mind was silenced when you felt the gentle touch of a gloved hand.

With his left hand, Alucard lifted your chin; with his right hand and the utmost care, he pressed a handkerchief over your wounds.

“This looks bad.” His quiet, husky voice dripped with worry. His forehead was tense, his jaw was tightened. He made you turn your head slightly to get a better vision of the gashes before pressing the soft fabric over them once again. With the corner of your good eye, you noticed that he hadn’t sheathed the sword back in; now it floated near your body like a watchdog.

Maybe it was the embarrassment of getting hurt in front of him, or the fact that he was standing so close and holding your face with such care, or his unwavering gaze – or it was a mix of everything that made heat creep from your neck to your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve been more careful.” You held your breath; his tone was still quiet and gentle, yet you noticed the hint of anger in his voice; such anger wasn’t directed at you, however.

You couldn’t process that situation very well.

Alucard said I’m sorry. Not many people had said I’m sorry to you, as far as you remembered. And he sounded sorry.

You pressed your lips together. Why was he even sorry? Didn’t he already know that no injury was serious enough to you?

“It’s okay, Alucard,” you said sheepishly. If you had the courage, you’d have rested your hand over his wrist, but you gripped the fabric of the skirt instead. “I’ll heal.” And fast, as you already felt the familiar tingling sensation spread around the entire left side of your face.

“I know,” was all he said. He kept patting your wounds slowly, absorbing the blood with the handkerchief.

You didn’t know how much longer you could hold his piercing gaze. You gulped. “I-I guess the bleeding already stopped,” you stuttered, desperate for him to step back – and not because you didn’t like his touch, but because it was too overwhelming and you didn’t know how to physically deal with it.

Alucard distanced the fabric from your face. He hummed, analyzing the gashes once again, coming to the conclusion that the bleeding had stopped indeed. However, instead of distancing himself or letting go of your chin, he turned the handkerchief to the side that still wasn’t soaked; you held your breath when you felt his hand press on your jaw, on your chin, then on your neck – cleaning the blood that had dripped.

That heat spread to every corner of your body. You felt about to explode.

Only after he finished did he step away – not before making you still hold the handkerchief over your left cheek.

He looked so, so sorry.

It was the first time Alucard showed an expression that wasn’t subtle.

And for some reason, it made it hard to breathe.

You won’t get hurt, he told you back at the chateau. I mean it, he reinforced in the woods.

Oh… you got it.

Alucard probably felt like he broke his promise to you – even though that wasn’t exactly a promise.

“It’ll be healed in no time,” you repeated, hating how high pitched your voice sounded. You wanted him to stop worrying so much at that moment; you needed to avert his attention elsewhere. “We… we should go after the others.”

The white-haired vampire still hesitated, his gaze lingering on you for a while longer before nodding. “Let’s go.” When he said this, you almost sighed in relief.

He walked very close to you this time, his hand behind your back without exactly touching, acting more as a guide. The long sword still floated closer to you than to him.

The warmth of his touch, even through the leather gloves, was comforting; his movements much slower now compared to how they were minutes ago as he ruthlessly slashed vampires without struggle. It was even impressive how he could switch like that. Now, he moved around with the care of someone holding a scared kitten.

You didn’t know how to feel.

On one side, you liked it. Heavens, how could you not? When was the last time anyone had touched you with such care? You’d always associated vampires with violence and brute force… yes, Alucard could fight ruthlessly, and imagining him as your foe was frightening. But at the same time, he could be considerate, his touch as light as a feather, his hunting tiger eyes changing to worried ones in the blink of an eye. How could you not be… flattered by that?

On the other side, you wanted to dig a hole on the ground and hide there forever. You were beyond embarrassed – embarrassed because you got hurt in front of him, embarrassed that he was paying so much attention to you, embarrassed because Alucard was in a hurry (understandably) and he shouldn’t waste his time caring about the injury of someone that couldn’t take care of herself… and embarrassed because you liked the attention, even though you shouldn’t.

The pain of your wounds was nothing compared to your confused feelings.

When you found the other two after a short walk, your left eye had already reopened, although your vision was still blurry.

Annette held blades on both hands. She had a focused expression, but when she saw you, her eyes widened and she was about to run towards you. Richter also looked worried. Immediately, you lifted your hand; just Alucard was enough, you didn’t need anyone else focusing on you.

“Don’t worry! It’s nothing.” You tried your best to sound somewhat cheerful. See? It’s not so bad. It doesn’t even hurt. Don’t worry about me, please, don’t worry about me.

The amount of blood on the handkerchief – previously white, now completely red – made it hard to believe, even though you were hiding the wounds very well. Alucard looked at you with the corner of his eye, letting a glimpse of his worry pass through, before falling into the usual nonchalance.

“I think I killed all of them,” he stated. “None left to report back to Erzsebet.”

Any worries Richter might’ve had for you disappeared in a second. His shoulders fell down, his eyes dropped – and you immediately remembered what happened yesterday. Oh no. Tension bubbled up within your stomach. Annette sent a worried gaze from the Belmont boy to the vampire.

Unfortunately, Alucard noticed. “What?”

Richter sighed, realizing there was no way out of this. He turned to Alucard. “Yesterday, when we were fighting vampires…”

The white-haired man frowned. That simple action was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“...I might’ve given our destination away.” Richter confessed – embarrassed, hesitant. He closed his eyes for a second, as if he couldn’t bear to look at Alucard. “I was just–“

“Showing off. As usual.”

Another freezing cold shiver.

Alucard’s voice wasn’t loud – much the opposite. Low, raspy, similar to a hiss. It was the second time that day that you’d seen him show an emotion that wasn’t subtle.

“I’m sorry. It was stupid, I wasn’t thinking.” The Belmont boy very clearly felt the weight of embarrassment get heavier over his shoulders.

“No, you weren’t. You don’t.” Heavens – Alucard wasn’t even talking to you, yet you almost had the reflex of flinching away from him. It was the first time he used that tone. It was the first time he showed genuine, unclouded anger.

And it scared you.

Maybe not because it was him, but because your past captors taught you that anger meant punishment – and it was burned in your soul in a way that not even your healing condition could deal with.

“What’s done is done, Alucard,” Annette intervened in a defensive manner, perhaps because she thought that it could evolve into something worse. “Let’s just get moving.”

Obviously, Alucard knew she was right. You saw something in him – something that he surely kept very well hidden most of the time – that made you think that, perhaps, he was a stubborn person. Perhaps he was someone that didn’t like to back down when he felt he was right.

But then his eyes quickly paused on you. Maybe you were seeing too much, wanting to be more important than you actually were, and the other two definitely didn’t notice it. But you saw the way his eyes traveled from the bloody handkerchief pressed against your wound, or maybe he saw your expression – and that made him… give up.

Alucard simply let an irritated groan escape, sheathed his sword and walked towards the margin, not far from where you were.

You almost sighed in relief. A fight was the thing you needed the least right now.

While you watched Alucard’s tall figure distance himself, Richter expressed a little “thank you” towards Annette. She smiled, shrugging, before approaching you and resting her hand over your shoulder.

“Are you really okay?” she asked. It seemed that she wanted to take a look at your wounds, but you refused uncover them.

“Yes. It was just an accident.” Again, you faked a somewhat cheerful tone. “It’s already healing, so don’t worry. Really.”

Annette still looked hesitant, but ended up nodding anyway, making her way towards the boat.

Richter didn’t move at all. His fists were tightened, his eyes were down. Again, you couldn’t help but notice how his muscular body made such a contrast with his child-like features. He… looked like a boy. His round blue eyes were clouded by regret, embarrassment and a hint of sadness.

It brought forward a feeling you didn’t know you had. An… instinct.

“Don’t dwell too much on it,” you didn’t know where the courage to speak came from, but there you were anyway, your voice quiet in a tone you didn’t recognize. “He’s angry. It’ll pass.”

Even Richter seemed surprised at your words. He massaged the back of his neck and somehow managed to open a small smile before nodding.

“Let’s… get going,” it seemed he didn’t know what to reply. As you started to walk side by side, Richter eyed the left side of your face. “...You have a pretty high pain tolerance. I’m a bit jealous.”

You couldn’t help but let a light chuckle pass your lips.

And yet, your sudden reaction lingered in your mind for a while. The way you hated to see that boy looking even remotely sad. The way you found the words to try to comfort him, even though you usually struggled to speak most of the time.

...Could that be a memory, too?

You were used to feeling small.

It had nothing to do with height. Your captors made you feel small, minuscule, insignificant, for as long as you could remember. That wasn’t news. That was, in fact, ingrained in your brain in complicated ways.

And yet, Paris made you feel even smaller.

Not because you were being harassed this time, but because it was so big and there were so many buildings and there were so many people that you felt the size of a grain of salt.

You weren’t used to that.

You abandoned the boat a few hours before dawn. Two more hours of walking and finally, the first buildings peeked in the distance. The city was just waking up with the first rays of sunlight, and yet it was already flooding with people.

Too many people.

You didn’t know a city could have so many people. You didn’t know buildings could be that tall. You didn’t know a place could be so noisy. There were kids running around and carriages passing by and stray dogs barking at you (you almost peed yourself) and people selling bread and fruits on the sidewalks and there was a mother running after her son and a group of old ladies chatted very loud and there was a man wearing a monk cloak preaching something with a book in his hand and oh- the boy that was running from his mother almost got run over by a horse but the rider stopped it in time and cursed him using very bad names and the mother cursed the rider back using very bad names and the boy started crying–

A hand rested on top of yours. You gasped. It was Annette.

“I was asking if you were hungry,” she said, but by the look on her face you realized that you were doing it again, you were spiraling again in an embarrassing way – and worst, in front of all these people. You gulped and hid your shaking hands behind your back.

“N-No.” You were, in fact, hungry, but you didn’t know what you were saying at that point.

No one was convinced.

“Shouldn’t we rush to find the mummy?” Richter said – but after he finished that sentence, his stomach audibly growled. The Belmont boy blushed. Annette giggled. The white-haired vampire sighed.

“I suppose we should rest for a while. We made our way without any breaks, after all,” he said and put his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket, taking a small brown pouch from there. It tinkled with coins. He placed the pouch on Annette’s hand. “You two, get us something to eat. I’ll be waiting with Ruby at the square.”

Annette still asked if you wanted to eat something specific, to which you once again replied mumbling some nonsense. Richter looked visibly relieved to be away from Alucard, at least for a while. They made their way towards a fair around the corner.

Alucard touched your back softly. You instinctively flinched.

“It’s over there,” he pointed ahead with his chin. Indeed, you could see a great square at the end of the crowded street. You nodded.

Alucard walked in a calm stride, and you tried to match his pace, even though your heart pounded violently. Your nerves wanted you to run. Everything was so loud and chaotic. Even the pigeons were noisy. You tried your best to not cross eyes with anyone – especially with the many men wearing red, blue and white uniforms, holding bayonets over their shoulders.

You felt that you stood out in the middle of the crowd. Your deep blue gown apparently was not a very fitting attire to wear on the streets, even though it wasn’t as puffy or long as it used to be. Women wore much simpler dresses. You felt their gazes over you and it made you want to disappear. If you had a vampire’s ability to turn into a tiny bat, hell, you’d use that ability right now to fly away from all these people.

A hand rested on your arm.

You gasped a bit when you realized Alucard was gently pulling you close to him before a man could bump into you. Your shoulder pressed against his body.

The stranger seemed about to say something mean, but then he looked from you to Alucard’s frown and gulped. “My apologies, ma’am,” he stuttered with an awkward smile, but Alucard kept guiding you ahead instead.

Oh.

His sudden proximity to you cut the cacophony of the street for some moments.

Finally, the street opened to a large square with a big fountain in the center and multiple wooden benches scattered around it. As it had more space, it appeared less crowded. Groups of pigeons flew away as you approached one of the only empty benches closer to the fountain. You sat down, Alucard at your left side.

The sound of the water gushing in the fountain muffled the other noises, helping you calm down a bit, but not nearly enough. You nervously gripped the fabric of the skirt and shook your leg nonstop, the heel tapping on the stone pavement audibly. There were still too many people. Still too many noises. Still too much attention–

“Look. There’s a rainbow.”

You eyed Alucard, finding his sudden observation strange. He sat with crossed legs and hands resting over his lap in a tranquil position that matched his expression. He pointed forward towards the fountain, clearly not wanting you to look at him at that moment.

And so you did.

The fountain was probably three meters tall, with four sculptures of women holding jars from where the water fell towards a pool. Indeed, as sun rays hit the water, a small colorful rainbow was reflected on the small droplets around it.

“Y-Yes,” you stuttered.

Alucard hummed. His voice was even calmer than usual. “Now, close your eyes. Listen to the water.”

You still found it strange, but did it anyway. With no more visual stimuli, you could focus on the sound of the flowing water. It flowed, nonstop, a sound familiar and somehow comforting; after a while, it muffled all the other sounds, the voices and conversations and steps. It enveloped you in a bubble of… peace.

Your leg wasn’t shaking anymore.

Finally, you opened your eyes again, your breathing back to normal.

Alucard now had his arms crossed. He looked at nothing in particular. “All these people are too absorbed in their own lives,” his husky voice was as soft as velvet. “They don’t care about you, so don’t worry about them.”

You nodded.

In that moment… Alucard was like a cold spot next to you. But not in a bad way. Everything else was too hot, too uncomfortable; he was like the cold breeze you needed to refresh.

Sheepishly, you looked down at your hands resting over your lap. “I’ve… never been in such a crowded place.”

Alucard nodded. “You get used to it after a while.”

Silence lingered between you. It wasn’t uncomfortable now, though.

“Oh! I’m sorry about your handkerchief,” you extended the apology you didn’t want to say in front of the others. “I tried to wash it, but… it didn’t work.”

The white-haired vampire chuckled softly. “It’s alright. Blood stains aren’t easily cleaned… you don’t have to apologize at all.” His small smile immediately dropped. “I should be the one to apologize again for what happened.”

You turned your body in his direction slightly, lifting your palms in an appeasing gesture. “I-It was just an accident! You don’t need to apologize again.”

“Yes, I do. You’re under my responsibility and I failed you.” Alucard turned to look at you for the first time. “What if you didn’t have this healing ability? You would’ve lost one eye. I think you don’t understand how serious that wound was.”

You looked down to your lap again, fiddling with your fingers nervously. “...Let’s just be glad that my body works like this, then.”

Alucard was still watching you. It made that familiar heat spread from your neck to your face all over again. He turned his body slightly on your direction, resting his arm over the back on the bench.

“How does it work? Your healing.” His voice had a new hint of interest. He pointed towards your left cheek with a subtle movement of his finger.

Instinctively, you turned your body a bit towards him as well, still avoiding his gaze.

“It… depends.” You started, frowning a little. “If it’s a light injury, it heals in seconds. If it’s more serious, it might take longer. Though… with more serious injuries, I can’t tell exactly how long it takes. I’d usually pass out and wake up the next day with everything healed.”

Oh. You didn’t want to let that last part slip.

Alucard pressed his lips for a moment. They were… glossy. Plump and delicate almost the way you’d expect to see on a woman. In fact, Alucard was a perfect balance between masculine and feminine; his features could be soft and delicate – like his lips, his long eyelashes, shiny wavy hair – but he could also be extremely masculine with his broad shoulders, muscular physique, his height, his deep voice. He was very elegant. And it wasn’t an inherently “vampiric” feature, as you hadn’t seen other vampires act like that, even the ones that claimed to be “royalty”. It was something specifically his.

The warmth in your cheeks got worse. You had to look away from him.

You inhaled, building up courage to ask what had been sitting in your mind for days. “Alucard, have you… have you ever met anyone else like me? A human that could heal?”

He looked into the distance, thoughtful. “Not exactly.” He paused for a moment, as if hesitating if he should tell you or not. “...I met a black magician once, many years ago. He sacrificed children, absorbing their youth, to keep himself alive for longer than a human should live.”

You couldn’t help but gasp. A bad feeling settled in your gut. “Did he heal like me?”

“Healing required the sacrifice of another life. An equivalent exchange. So, no.”

“...What happened to him?”

“I killed him.”

You widened your eyes. “Well, I-I don’t remember ever sacrificing children before, so…”

Alucard closed his eyes and let a light chuckle. “We can assume that’s not your case.”

Once again, you fiddled with the fabric of the dress. “Do you… have any idea of what might be my case?”

The man hummed. A soft breeze played with the locks of his hair. A few loose strands glimmered under the sun. Heavens, it was so hard to keep eye contact with him… when he was looking at you, you felt about to explode. When he wasn’t, you felt like you could stare at him for hours. And you weren’t the only one; you noticed some women walking on the square, taking quick glances at him, giggling and blushing. He was wrong in his theory that people were “too absorbed” in their lives – at least, that was not the case when it was about him.

“I can’t be sure of anything.” Alucard started, holding his chin. “There are a few theories I thought of. You might’ve made a pact with a demon to keep you alive in exchange of something it wanted you to do. You might be channeling your life force from someone else, like the black magician did. You might even be like me… a dhampir, how scholars call my kind. Half-human, half-vampire. Yet, that might most definitely not be the case, as you lack all vampiric features or needs.”

You gulped. All of his suppositions sounded equally bad.

“Are there other dhampirs?” You decided to avert his attention from you for a minute.

Alucard shook his head slowly. “No.” He narrowed his eyes only slightly. “And I am almost certain that there can’t be others like me. I was only conceived because my father was especially powerful… and he had the means to keep my mother alive throughout pregnancy.” He frowned in a subtle disgusted expression. “...I have seen others trying to replicate my existence with human women. It… never ends well to them or the babies.”

Although his last sentence was horrifying, you felt a little bit excited; Alucard barely ever talked about himself… and he just talked about his father, Dracula. The strange name that seemed to evoke something familiar in you.

Hell. You wanted to ask him. You didn’t even know exactly what to ask, and you didn’t even know if Alucard would want to talk about his father. As Richter said, Dracula was the man that almost wiped out mankind, and Alucard had to stop him… had to kill him. That couldn’t be an easy topic to talk about. How do you even approach this conversation?!

But at the same time, “Dracula” seemed to be the most important memory you had retrieved up until now. It could provide answers.

“We could also scratch the ‘channeling life force from another source’, too, if we consider that you feel tired when healing from serious injuries,” Alucard kept on talking, unaware of your internal struggle. “If you feel tired, it means you’re utilizing your own force.”

And then, you were shaking your leg again. “So… pact with a demon it is. Sounds lovely,” you didn’t want to sound that nervous, but you couldn’t help it.

Alucard chuckled. It was… nice to see him like that. Not so aloof. Smiles, even tiny ones, looked great on him.

“As I said, they’re only theories. Don’t dwell too much on suppositions. We’ll find out the truth, sooner or later.”

A moment of silence lingered.

“What if… I am actually someone evil?” You wondered quietly. “I have no idea of who I was before her. So… that’s a possibility.”

Alucard took a while to answer.

“I have lived for long enough to understand that good and evil are not simple concepts.” He was using that tone again – the quiet, reassuring one. A tone that meant comfort, but in that moment, it also meant wisdom, perhaps wisdom beyond your comprehension. “No one is entirely evil. No one is entirely good. Even vampires. Sometimes, evil and good are completely intertwined. One might do evil deeds for a good cause or the opposite. It is… very broad and subjective.”

Finally, you lifted your gaze to look at him.

“And what do you think is my case?”

Once again, Alucard took some seconds to answer.

The arm that rested over the back of the bench approached your face, which caused your heartbeat to increase; he moved slowly like he did before – moving around a scared kitten. His fingers came close to your head; his touch, almost unnoticeable. He took a little leaf that was hidden between your strands with his fingertips.

Why such a mundane action made all of your insides twirl around like that?

“I’m not sure of your past,” he admitted quietly. “But I am sure of what I see right now; and in this moment, you’re not someone capable of evil. And this, to me, is enough.”

You… couldn’t really breathe.

Couldn’t really look away.

Suddenly, he was also inside your little bubble of peace. There were only the sounds of the fountain, the sunlight… and his golden eyes. Nothing else existed. His presence emanated tranquility, certainty, solace… and something else that you didn’t know how to name. The same thing that made warmth spread through your body anytime he was kind, anytime he smiled, anytime he took care of you somehow.

It felt like you had fallen into a spell. A sweet one. It had an ambrosial smell, a honeyed taste. You didn’t want to break away from it. Not this time.

You opened your mouth, thinking of what to say – anything, any word, but nothing came; you were frozen, breathless, speechless–

“We brought croissants!”

The bubble popped.

You snapped your head to the side. Annette held a basket with bread and Richter held a bottle.

“They’re fresh off the oven,” Annette said with a satisfied smile.

“And I got apple juice. It wasn’t easy to get, so please, appreciate it,” Richter boasted before sitting between you and Alucard unceremoniously.

Annette sat by your right side, handing you a croissant and frowning at him. “He fought an elder man to buy it. It wasn’t very gentleman-ly of you.”

“What? He skipped the queue! I was right. Besides, we need it more than he does,” Richter defended himself with a pout.

The other two kept humorously arguing, but you weren’t really listening to them, trying to calm your heart instead.

You looked at Alucard with the corner of your eye.

For the first time ever since you met, he averted his gaze from you… and it made another question mark pop in your head; this question mark, however, wasn’t as dark as the others.

...Could it be that Alucard felt the spell, too?

A/N: someone sent me an ask on tumblr that put a question mark in my head. They weren't sure if the fic was a self-insert or if Ruby was a separate character from "reader". If anybody else is confused, yess, this is a self-insert, I am calling you RUBY and this will be your new LEGAL NAME from now on, don't argue with me. (jokes aside - I thought this was pretty clear :( hope no one else is confused, and I hope that this detail doesn't make the fic unreadable to you!) As usual, feedback is MUCH MUCH MUCHHH APPRECIATED!!!! This girl put out 4 chapters, 20k words in like ten days. cough cough I do feel like I deserve it 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ 💞💞💞

#alucard x reader #castlevania #castlevania alucard #castlevania nocturne #adrian tepes #adrian fahrenheit tepes #alucard tepes #castlevania x reader #alucard x you #STOP SHADOWBANNING MY POSTS AAAAAA #WHAT HAVE I DONE TO YOU TUMBLR WHY DO YOU HATE ME #:(((((((((

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mrs-kmikaelson · 2 days ago

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helios

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x sunshine!reader Summary: Aaron thinks you're just about the most radiant person he's ever met. But then you fly too close to the sun, and all your light disappears. Warnings: grumpy x sunshine turned not sunshine, references to the greek myth of icarus and the sun god helios, graphic descriptions of violence, murder, mentions of abduction, heartbreak, complicated relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unresolved trauma, aaron is a bit of a jerk (with reason) Words: 3.1K

Masterlist | icarus (part 1) | part 3

a/n: part 3 otw (don't kill me; we can talk about the next part of the grey area later)

When you first met Hotch, you knew he was wondering why you'd apply for the BAU. Most people wondered why you'd work for the Bureau in the first place. To make the world brighter, you'd thought.

But now your world was so dark that it made you wonder what the point of any of it was.

Did it matter if you helped some people? Did you really help anyone? You used to think so.

Now you were on the other side of the equation, and it didn't seem that way anymore. You weren't the agent, just the victim. And now you wondered—could you ever truly help anyone? Or were they all just dead the moment they were taken?

You never stayed long enough to see the aftermath, what happened to the victims after the unsub was apprehended. You now wished you did. Did this feeling ever go away?

It didn't feel like that right now.

Nonetheless, you still found yourself sitting at the BAU round table, coffee in hand in attempts to remedy your lack of sleep. It didn't help much, but it made you feel like you were doing something. Lately, everything in your life felt that way.

You sat across from Spencer, between Emily and Derek. They were talking about this movie they saw; Reid was arguing about innaccuracy and statistical probability. They invited you to go, too.

No thanks, guys. I'm busy this weekend. You didn't elaborate further.

You remembered the look of disappointment that washed over Spencer's face, but he covered it with a smile. You reciprocated it the best you could.

Smiling felt harder.

"Hey, Y/L/N, you listening?"

You blinked, turning to see Morgan looking at you expectantly. "Sorry. What?"

"I said, drinks. After this case. It's all on the old man's tab." Rossi made a sound of protest in the background, but Morgan barely glanced his way, keeping his eyes on you. "You in?"

Your mouth opened, but you didn't know what to say. You were running out of excuses. This felt like a test—

"Let's start the briefing."

At Hotch's entrance to the room, you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders despite the air somehow getting heavier. You trained your eyes on the screen, relieved that you wouldn't have to answer.

JJ started, "Baltimore's seen a series of child abductions over the past few months. Jimmy Porter was abducted from the mall a week ago." She clicked to the next slide. "His body was found dumped by the harbor 2 days ago."

Diving into profiler mode, you tilted your head at the picture. "Dumped is a nice way of putting it," you commented. "The positioning shows an ample amount of remorse."

"And he dumped the body where it could easily be found," Hotch built off your point. He usually did that. It almost felt like things were normal between you.

Please, Y/N.

You cleared your throat. "Have the other bodies ever been found?"

JJ sighed, automatically indicating you wouldn't like her answer. "Baltimore PD is sweeping the water as we speak." She clicked to the next slide. "Last night, Max Campbell was taken from his home while his parents were asleep."

Derek sat up straighter. "That's a hell of a risk to take."

"To go from abducting from common hunting grounds like a mall to one's own home is extremely unlikely. It shows an immense jump in confidence and victimology, going from victims of opportunity to a specific victim in a specific location," Reid said, making gestures with his hands.

You tipped your head in his direction. "There must be something specific about Max Campbell that made the unsub take him without even cooling off."

Hotch nodded, agreeing. "We'll discuss this further on the jet. Wheels up in 30."

You all stood up, grabbing your things. You were about to leave the room when Hotch called your name.

"Y/N." You turned back, seeing his soft expression that was simultaneously devoid of emotion. "Could I speak to you for a moment, please?"

No. Whatever he wanted to talk about could wait. He already got his fill the night before. You had nothing more to talk about.

But you couldn't say that. You'd already said too much. So, you reluctantly nodded, waiting for everyone to file out of the room and ignoring the glances they shared.

Rossi closed the door on his way out, like he could anticipate that you wouldn't want anyone to hear this conversation. You didn't know if you wanted to thank him for it or be angry at the assumption.

Most of your feelings were torn between extremes.

Sadness and anger.

Relief and intensity.

And as you stared at Aaron, standing there with stiff arms, hate and love.

He started slowly as if he was pacifying an unpredictable animal. "Y/N... I would like you to stay with Garcia for this case."

You involuntarily recoiled, shocked at the notion. If he was ashamed, he didn't show it. You scoffed. "What?" He opened his mouth, but you didn't let him get a word in, taking a step forward. "Hotch, that's ridiculous. Child offenders are my specialty. Are you seriously taking me off this case?"

"I'm not taking you off the case," he reasoned. "You'll be more help here—"

"How?" A look of offense crossed his face, but you couldn't care less. Maybe you would've been more scared to go against Hotch before, but this was now. He'd never suggested something so ludicrous.

Emily called you yin and yang, two sides of the same coin. He trusted you on all fronts. This didn't feel like trust.

It felt like punishment.

Hotch's eyes hardened, giving you a look you'd never seen directed at you before. "Agent Y/L/N, as your unit chief, I am ordering you to stay here. Your input is valued; you will still contribute. But effective immediately, you will not be joining us in the field until a psychological evaluation deems you fit."

Another scoff left you. "Psychological evaluation? That's what this is about? All because I wouldn't fucking talk to you—"

"Watch your tone—"

"You have my doctor's note. I am physically and mentally capable for this job. You are not a licensed psychologist—"

His voice raised as he cut you off. "I reserve the right to make decisions about the agents on my team." He gave you one final once-over, like he was daring you to say another word, give him a reason to do something more drastic. You clenched your jaw, holding back all the words you wanted to let flow. That seemed to satisfy him enough. "You will stay here. End of discussion."

Hotch grabbed his briefcase and promptly left the room, not sparing you another glance as you just stood there, left once again by Aaron Hotchner.

Yin and yang, Emily had said. It almost made you laugh. The coin was flipped.

He was leaving you in the shadows.

—

Derek passed by your desk as you were grabbing your things, getting ready to go to Penelope's bat cave. He raised a brow at you. "Hey, where's your go bag?"

Without meaning to, you sighed, immediately regretting it when you saw the smile on his face falter. "Sorry, I'm—" not mad at you, "I'm not coming. Bossman's orders." You threw in a smile, trying to smooth things over, but it came out more sarcastic than anything.

He stared at you in silence for a few seconds with that same look that everyone had been giving you since you came back. The same way you'd look at a pressure-activated bomb. Careful not to move too fast, press too hard, press in the wrong areas.

Derek seemed to decide that whatever he was thinking was worth saying. "Kid, you know he just wants what's best for you." Kid.

Were you not grown up now?

You pursed your lips before responding, "Yeah." It was sure as hell hard to see it that way when you were being benched, punished for something that wasn't your fault.

You couldn't help but think that Hotch would never do this to Derek. Or anyone, for that matter. It was just you.

Morgan sighed, but he left it at that, sensing the cut was too fresh. His eyes travelled lower. Silence again.

You knew what he was looking at. You resisted the urge to cover your stomach.

"Does—" he hesitated. Derek Morgan never hesitated. "Does it still hurt?"

You sharply inhaled. The scars had two months to heal. Sometimes, you could still feel the knife ripping into your body. Once. Twice. Three times.

You could feel it most times, actually.

The medications could get rid of the pain, but they couldn't get rid of the sensation of that knife in your body. Sometimes, you thought nothing ever would.

"I'm told it doesn't hurt anymore than it should," you said. Whatever that meant. Apparently, you were in pain paradise. This is the spot you want to be at, you doctor told you.

You didn't call bullshit when he said that, but Morgan looked like he might do it for you in real time.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but he was cut off by Emily.

"Are you guys coming?" Right after she spoke, her eyes darted between you both, asking you a different question with her eyes. Am I interrupting something?

You shook your head, giving her a smile that looked more practiced. No, you're not. "No, I'm not coming. I'll see you guys when you get back." You dodged any more questions by quickly turning around. Morgan could explain it to her if she asked. You didn't feel like answering any more questions, being treated like a ticking time bomb.

You just wanted things to go back to normal. Once they started treating you like they did before, then you could be the same as you were before.

You're not the same, Y/N.

Nothing was.

—

Penelope couldn't get through to you. You were quiet all day except to share your theories. The next day was the same. And the next. And the next. Until the bastard was caught.

Max Campbell was rescued. You weren't there to see it, but you wondered if it really made a difference. He was just a boy, so full of light.

Would that light ever come back to him?

You exhaled, running your hand over your face. Even though you stayed home, you were exhausted. You didn't sleep more than an hour at a time, but that wasn't much different from your new routine.

You were starting to see more of the moon than the sun.

When the team returned, you greeted them all with smiles. There, just like before. The only difference was that you didn't talk to Hotch.

He glanced at you, wordlessly telling you to talk to him, but you weren't gonna do that.

Rossi noticed the lack of communication between you. Everyone did, but he was the only one who'd say something about it.

Stirring his coffee in the break room, he started, "Aaron is... stubborn. But he's extra hardheaded for the people that he loves." Loves.

Your hand stilled halfway to grabbing the coffee pot, but you recovered quickly, grabbing it and pouring yourself a cup. You glanced side to side, checking to see if anyone was around to hear him and whatever he was implying.

When you found no one else, you replied, "Okay." You weren't going to dignify that claim with any other response.

You knew Aaron cared about you; you'd be a shitty profiler not to know that. But love was a strong word.

Love didn't leave you all alone when you begged it to stay. Love didn't stay away from you while you were lying in a hospital bed. Love didn't interrogate you and make you sit on the sidelines when you didn't answer its questions. Love didn't make you feel so cold when all you wanted was to feel warm.

Rossi stopped pretending to pay attention to his coffee. You didn't meet his eyes. "Bellissima, you're going to have to talk to him eventually."

"Can you pass the creamer, please?"

"No." Finally, you looked up, meeting Rossi's passionate gaze. "It gets worse before it gets better. You have to let that happen."

You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palms. You didn't see how it could possibly get worse than this.

"You know, I don't really think I want this coffee anymore." You left the mug on the counter, exiting the break room and leaving the conversation altogether.

—

"Hotch, please. The case is right here—"

"No."

"Come on, I'll be right by your side the whole time," you argued. A new case came in, just over in Montclair, and you were trying to negotiate your way into it. Two cases had passed where he made you stay in Quantico. It was becoming nonsensical.

You thought he'd crack by now, but he remained firm in his resolve, refusing to let you in the field until you talked about what happened. And "talking about it" was something you didn't want to do, much less with him.

His gaze had more heat than the sun outside. You could tell he was contemplating it. Even he must've been able to see how absurd this was, holding you back from your work when he wouldn't do the same to anyone else.

When it was him on the other side of this, he came back to work. He went into the field 30 days after being stabbed nine times. You only endured a third of that.

You thought back to that day. You'd rushed to the hospital and didn't leave his side. You visited him every day, keeping him company and updating him on your cases. You never iced him out the way he was isolating you right now. You never avoided him when you knew he was hurting.

If you talked to him—if you had that conversation—then that's what you'd say. You'd end up saying something foolish about the things you felt, feelings he wouldn't reciprocate. You'd reopen wounds you were desperately trying to close.

So you wouldn't.

You didn't say a word of what you were really thinking, sticking to the script. Please let me go. I'll be fine. I'll stay by you.

Eventually, he made up his mind. "Fine."

You could've nearly smiled.

—

The case finished speedily. You captured the unsub and found the girl just in time. Happily ever after.

Hotch didn't seem to think so.

As soon as the elevator doors opened to the sixth floor, he was storming past you all, his footsteps thunderous against the floor. Garcia's smile fell from her face when she saw.

Without turning back, he called, "Y/L/N. My office, now."

You rolled your eyes, following him and ignoring the looks your colleagues exchanged. They did that a lot, lately. But everyone stayed silent, electing not to make commentary. It was smart, not wanting to add fuel to the fire.

But you... you were the most fire you'd been in months. For the first time since what happened, you didn't feel cold. White hot anger coursed through your veins, lighting a fuse that no one could get rid of.

You slammed Hotch's door on your way in. He immediately turned to you, seething, "That was reckless and stupid—"

"It got the job done—"

He raised his voice. "You walked into the house alone, without backup—"

"I talked him down—"

"You could've died!"

"It wouldn't be the first time!" you snapped. Your chest heaved as if you'd just run a marathon, phantom pains in your abdomen supporting your words.

He glanced downward before meeting your eyes again. For a second, it was almost like you were looking at Aaron. It was almost like he was understanding.

You got quieter, but your voice was no less firm. "It certainly won't be the last."

And just like that, Aaron disappeared. No longer your friend. Back to the prosecutor, the unit chief who took your words as a challenge. His eyes narrowed. "Yes, it will be." It took you a moment to understand what he meant, but he soon made it very clear. "Your gun and your badge, now. You're suspended for the next two weeks."

You took a step backward as if his words were a slap in the face. "What?"

Hotch didn't lighten up, his face completely impassive. "You are a danger to yourself, and I cannot allow you into the field in good conscience." He held his hand out. "Gun. Badge. Now."

You echoed, "You're suspending me?"

"Yes."

An incredulous scoff left you. He was suspending you after everything? When he had done the same and worse?

He was allowed to use his judgement and keep things to himself, but the second you stepped out of line, he wanted to suspend you? You couldn't believe it. You wouldn't believe it.

In a split second, you made a snap decision. If he didn't want you here, then it wouldn't be on his terms.

You unholstered your gun and unpocketed your badge, shoving them in his chest as opposed to handing them to him. You didn't take your eyes off him once, maintaining your glare.

You hoped it burned.

"You're not suspending me," you rebutted, taking a step closer to him. Realization dawned on his face. "I quit."

Hotch's face morphed into something that almost looked like regret. You wouldn't stay long to savour it.

You spun on your heel, marching out of his office with him right behind you. The team, who no doubt heard small bits of your conversation, looked confused. You didn't stop for any of them.

"Y/N, this conversation isn't finished." He must've thought that'd get to you. His unit chief voice, big and loud. But your feet didn't stop moving.

With your back still turned to him, you retorted, "No, but I am."

You reached the elevator, pressing the ground floor and close button within seconds of each other. When the doors closed, Hotch's approaching figure was gone, replaced by your own reflection.

A shaky breath left you. The fluorescent lights in the elevator were blinding. It was brighter in there than it was anywhere else in the building. But when you got out to the parking lot, it was just dark.

Artificial lights. Not the sun.

They didn't last. They had switches; you could turn them off.

Your switch was flipped, too. For a second, you were hot and blazing, burning brighter than you'd ever burned before. But as soon as you left the building, that changed completely.

You were immersed in darkness.

And you were alone.

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charmed-asylum · 2 days ago

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ROOO I MEAN DA FUCK A ROO A BOOO DOO DOO. Smh I’m mean shit okay now let’s pull out the pointer and roll out the white board with pros and cons. ( huh this is gonna be a night) the date now I know we all know he didn’t want to do this day one fussing and dragging his feet keep whining about it BUT BUT besides his side comments that he knows she not fully understanding did he ever pull her still and went I don’t want to go I am going to be a fuckin rude ungrateful crazy ass no no he didn’t but what he did do was whine complain and then still go. I mean shit if this is what u was gonna do we could of cut this short w the damn I’m sick I don’t feel well or I got a emergency ‼️ it’s the city there always something happening but no no no he went he even came early pout like a kid watch a girl ad she got dress and I mean this can’t be 1st time then drag his feet whine some more went to party saw it was Sam ( which was good and bad ) good he can’t just kill him and bad because next to Steve which would of taken her for his own. “Hey, Bucky, look at you,” Sam’s voice cuts through the air. “Like a prize poodle, all washed and brushed.” It was fuck . Lit a whole podcast with a Netflix special length of bad while she there. Fuck like okay I taken the following just not going, kiss out of no where, hurting someone else, getting lost , and idk most importantly telling her. You glance over at her. She doesn’t look very happy. You peek around the table. Everyone is looking at you. Charlize looks stone sober and grim, Sam looks doubtful, and Bucky is cloudy-eyed. Why is he staring at you like that? Yeah she insisted but what she so bad she genuinely thought it was good and in clouds to think that Bucky wants her. Everyone but her see he wants her. “I knew you were too friendly with the waitress. I knew it. I know you.” And I feel so bad for everyone but him shoo shoo Bucky . LIKE I WANT TO SCREAM FUCK!!!! buck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck huh I mean and we got how much left so not like I can’t believe u stop talking and poof a snatch and grab nope.

Just Friends: Double Date

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Bucky Barnes

masterlist

Summary: you and Bucky go on a double date.

It’s giving

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You come up to the restaurant, shivering as the cold permeates your wool coat. The nights are chilly, meanwhile the days can’t seem to mellow between sweltering and gloomy. You clack in your thick-heeled boots as Bucky drags his feet beside you.

“This is the place?” He asks. “Thought you’d cash in on your work discount.”

“Don’t start,” you warn him and check your phone.

“Did they cancel? Can I go home?” Bucky asks.

You hush him as you read the message. Charlize says she’s inside and your date--

“Hey, Bucky, look at you,” Sam’s voice cuts through the air. “Like a prize poodle, all washed and brushed.”

Bucky sighs, “what the hell are you doing here?” He sneers.

“I never say no to a free meal. It’s date night,” Sam chortles as he fixes his tie.

“Date?” Bucky scowls and turns to you, “him? You asked him? How did you even--”

“Well, Bucky, I’m a great tipper. After you took to that restaurant, I made sure my gratuity was received,” Sam chirps. “I knew you were too friendly with the waitress. I knew it. I know you.”

“Whatever,” Bucky rolls his eyes. “You really had to do this to me?” He turns on you. “He gets to witness this mess?”

“Mess? The night’s not even begun,” you argue.

“That’s right, Buckaroo. Take a little advice from your friend. I have to admit, I was pretty surprised to hear you even had friends. Well, outside of yours truly.”

“Come on,” Bucky grumbles and spins on his heel, “let’s just get this over with.”

He marches forward as you linger behind. Sam sends you a look and you shrug. You don’t get it. You’re just trying to do something nice and you thought having two friends would help bolster Bucky’s courage.

You follow and as you enter, the hostess only seems to add to Bucky’s chagrin. He reluctantly hands over his jacket as you do the same. You wait for the hostess to take them to the coatroom and feel a gentle nudge.

“Hey, you look nice. It’s a cute dress,” Sam says.

You smile at him, “thanks, Bucky didn’t seem to think so.”

“I didn’t say it was ugly,” Bucky snips.

“Trust me, it’s not what you say, Buck, it’s how you say it.” Sam scoffs.

“Did you just come to be a pain in my ass?” Bucky snarls.

“Woah, come on. It’s gonna be a fun night,” you insist. “Please. Charlize is waiting for us.”

He sighs and shakes his head, “fine.”

The hostess reappears and shows you into the dining room. You’re taken to a table where Charlize waits. She’s even more gorgeous in the halter dress in a beautiful indigo velvet. She stands to give you a hug and you turn to introduce everyone.

“Bucky, this is Charlize, and this is Sam,” you gesture between everybody.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Charlize says in her smoky voice. It’s sultry even without trying. If you were a bit older, you might just swoon.

You sit and a server comes to take your drink orders. Your nerves are buzzing as you sit beside Charlize. Bucky’s just next to Sam and you all settle in. You look around and clear your throat.

“So, Charlize, uh, Bucky has a motorcycle too. It’s really cool. Vintage, right?” You prompt Bucky as a thick strand of his hair falls forward.

“Uh, yeah. Nothing special,” he answers curtly.

Your furrow your brow, “well, uh, Charlize rides motorcycles too. She even races.”

“Oh, I used to race,” Charlize says. “I’ve aged out unfortunately. But I like to get out of town, find a nice back road...”

“Right,” Bucky nods, staring at his fingertips as he taps them on the table top.

“Not me, I hate motorcycles,” you announce.

“Hm, yeah,” Bucky snorts, “she won’t even sit on it when it’s parked. Convinced she’s going to fly off like a cartoon.”

“You never know,” you retort. “Um, er,” you squirm and realise the conversation is bouncing back at you. “Sam, do you ride?”

“Nah, I got the wings. Much more fun. Maybe you can come for a ride one day. Not as loud and doesn’t smell like gas,” he winks.

“Oh, she doesn’t do heights,” Bucky clucks. “Put some ear plugs in if you do.”

You pause as the server brings the drinks. You thank him with a beaming smile. From one service worker to another.

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “Charlize,” you turn to the elegant woman, “um, you’re from New York, right? So is Bucky.”

“I am. Harlem,” she answers. “I live in Manhattan now but I do some pro bono work back home. So, Bucky, you’re from Brooklyn? I’ve done some cases there as well.”

“I’m from Indiana,” Bucky says dully. “But yeah, we moved to Brooklyn. A hundred years ago.”

You don’t like his tone. Why isn’t he gushing over Charlize? She’s amazing. She’s everything you want to be in twenty years.

“So you’ve both been here a while,” you say. “And you both work in law...”

“Doesn’t matter how long Dreamy’s been here, she’ll always find a way to get lost,” he snickers. “Isn’t that right?”

“Er, uh, maybe, but Charlize...”

“Bucky’s a hell of a guy,” Sam intones and you shoot him a thankful smile. “Always gets the job done. We were down in Harlem just the other week. You must’ve heard.”

“I recall. I was at the press conference,” Charlize says.

“Just work,” Bucky mutters.

“Well, what do you do in your spare time?” Charlize prompts gently.

“Not much. Usually just hang out. Oh, we went to a going out of business sale for a bookstore. Found a copy of Grapes of Wrath I’m pretty sure was in my high school library. Oh, but then Dreamy ripped a page in a Dickens early edition.”

“It was an accident,” you squeak.

“Always an accident,” he chortles. “That’s the thing about this one, always wandering into trouble.”

“Explains how she met you,” Sam comments. In return he gets a sneer.

“She’s a nice girl. She helped a lot down at the practice last summer. Did some volunteer work when he had to relocate.” Charlize explains.

“She is nice. She took a chance on some old geezer like me. Puts up with me too.”

“So do I,” Sam says.

“Sounds like you’re really good friends,” Charlize sniffs.

You glance over at her. She doesn’t look very happy. You peek around the table. Everyone is looking at you. Charlize looks stone sober and grim, Sam looks doubtful, and Bucky is cloudy-eyed. Why is he staring at you like that?

“I gotta use the toilet,” you say abruptly and get up.

You’re on fire. You don’t understand what’s going on. You’re doing double duty trying to juggle the table and Bucky seems to want to undermine everything you say. He won’t talk about himself and when he does, it’s a contradiction. And Sam is no help, he just keeps teasing him.

You burst into the bathroom and look at your reflection. This was a mistake. You should’ve let Bucky do this by himself. He’s grown. You don’t want to ruin this for him. He deserves a woman like Charlize.

You shake of your frustration and go back out. As you get to the table, you slow down. The seat beside yours is empty. Bucky sits with his arms crossed defiantly as Sam yammers at him.

“Bro, you’re totally screwed,” Sam says.

“Hey, did Charlize go to the restroom? I didn’t see her?” You ask.

Sam turns and his eyebrows rise. He lets out an exasperated puff as Bucky lowers his chin and stares at the table. Why won’t he look at you?

“Charlize left. She said sorry,” Sam explains at last.

“She left? What happened?” You bluster.

Sam looks at Bucky. He won’t look at you.

“I don’t think they mesh,” Sam shrugs, “but hey, we can still enjoy dinner, right?”

You purse your lips and take your seat. You watch Bucky as he twiddles his fingers next to his glass. You know it’s more than they’re saying but you’ve been so stressed about it all, you don’t even care what ruined it. It didn’t work out. All that effort for nothing.

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7-deadly-cats · 2 days ago

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killing me softly (part three)

genre: slow burn fic, fluff with hints of angst, light drama, no explicit smut

kms masterlist | <- part two | part four (soon) ->

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!introverted!kook!reader

cw: swearing, light suggestive themes, overthinking/anxiety

synopsys: it's the last year of high school and you were paired up with rafe cameron for a 2 week long project in art class. this wouldn't be a problem if you weren't awkward as hell and well ... if there weren't your big fat crush on him. could this be the beginning of a friendship or maybe even more? one thing was certain: rafe cameron was intense, impulsive, and complex in ways that weren't always for the better, and your mind? that shit was even more tangled. but you hadn't spent all these years crushing on him from a distance just to let this chance slip through your fingers ... right?

summary of recent events: during lunch you and rafe brainstormed some ideas for your art project. despite your awkwardness and an unfortunate misunderstanding, rafe had been mostly chill the whole time. after you both said your goodbyes to leave for afternoon classes, you awaited a surprise: rafe had somehow gotten your number and sent you a text message.

word count: 3k+

a/n: i know this part is more like a breather but i promise next part is gonna have y/n and rafe interacting a LOT more + it’s all building up to sth bigger and i really don’t wanna rush this story, so bear with me please <3 however i decided to bring in some jj action hibihihi. anyway please enjoy and as always any kind of support, comments, reblogs etc. is appreciated <33

This was insane. So fucking insane. You were seriously starting to think this was one of those cruel dreams where you spend an entire fantasy life with your crush, only to wake up at the best part, heartbroken and pissed off at your alarm clock.

Ever since you got home, your heart had been running a marathon, and that weird, buzzing feeling in your chest just wouldn’t go away.

Your mind was racing with questions.

Where did Rafe even get your number? Why didn’t he just ask you for it during lunch? Why did he text you—what was his intention here?

WAS IT EVEN RAFE????

Maybe someone was messing with you. Your mind flashed back to English class, to Kelce Statter grinning like an idiot while having texted someone. Was it him?

You frowned. That would be a pretty fucked-up joke, and honestly, you doubted Kelce had the patience or brainpower to pull off something like that.

With a sigh, you flopped onto your bed, inhaling the familiar scent of your room, trying to slow your racing thoughts.

If someone had strapped a heart monitor to you today, you’d probably be in the ER by now. It had been ages since your adrenaline had spiked like this.

Rolling onto your stomach, you grabbed your phone again, elbows propped on your mattress.

Your brows furrowed as you opened Cara’s chat:

Of course. The one time you actually needed her, she was nowhere to be found. Probably got caught texting in class, and now she was stuck listening to Ms. Langford go on about the importance of English literature or whatever.

You switched to your chat with Rafe, biting the inside of your cheek as you stared at his messages.

You should probably text back. You’d already left him on read for an hour, just because you had no clue what to say.

Not that he actually gives a shit.

But still. He had taken the time to get your number and text you. That had to mean something, right?

Dude, you’re overthinking this again. It’s literally just two texts.

Pressing your lips together, you started typing:

As soon as you hit send, you tossed your phone to the other side of the bed and groaned, burying your face in your pillow.

God, you just said hi—so why the hell did it feel like your entire nervous system was short-circuiting?

Shit. I should’ve left out that stupid smiley.

WHY did its face look both pissed off and kind of turned on at the same time?!

Great. Now he probably thought you were sexually frustrated. And the whole I assume this is Rafe? thing? Seriously, Y/N. Of course, it’s Rafe. What a dumbass question. His cute ass profile picture made it obvious.

So now, not only you seemed desperate—you seemed desperate AND stupid.

Bzzzrt.

You sat up so fast it gave you whiplash, grabbing your phone in record time. Heart pounding, you unlocked it—

Cara.

You exhaled, part relieved, part annoyed, and opened her messages.

You sighed and let your phone drop onto your bed again. If only you could somehow call this dating—but whatever was going on between you and Rafe… well, there wasn’t even a between to begin with.

There was nothing.

At best, you were classmates. Maybe project partners. Nothing more.

You ran a hand over your face. This whole thing was exhausting, and the worst part? Nothing had even happened between you and Rafe. Well—except for the fact that you’d acted like some socially inept, know-it-all nerd just hours ago.

And yet… you couldn’t deny that it was kind of exciting. For the first time ever, you’d had an actual conversation with Rafe Cameron, and he hadn’t just gotten up and left in the middle of it.

AND THEN HE’D TEXTED YOU?! LIKE, HOLY SHIT?!

Which, in turn, made you feel like some dumb, hopeless girl. Because, seriously—what were you even expecting from this? A friendship? A friends with benefits situation? A relationship?

You nearly laughed out loud. That thought was about as far from reality as it could possibly get. Honestly, you had a better chance of making a groundbreaking scientific discovery—and you sucked at science.

Alright, one thing at a time.

You caught yourself staring at your phone again, still no reply from Rafe.

It’s fine, you told yourself. You only messaged him ten minutes ago, and just because he texted you doesn’t mean you’re suddenly texting buddies or some crap.

Holy shit, I’m overthinking this again.

You needed a distraction. Like, right now.

But staying here was only going to make you lose it. You needed to get out, do something.

Your gaze drifted back to your phone, and you tapped on Cara’s number.

Her soft voice came through on the other end. “Let me guess, you need help coming up with a reply?”

“He hasn’t answered yet.”

“Asshole.”

You laughed. “It’s not even been ten minutes.”

“Yeah, well, ten too many,” she shot back, but you could hear her trying to hide a grin. “Okay, what’s going on?”

“I thought we could hit the beach, chill a bit, you know, whatever.”

“You’re losing it, aren’t you?”

You smiled. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

----------------------------------------------- The afternoon sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky, casting a golden glow over the beach. The waves weren’t exactly massive today but they were still decent enough for surfing.

Not that you’d be surfing anyway—your head was way too all over the place for that. You’d probably wipe out the second you got on the board.

No, today was about chilling. Just you and Cara, away from the crowd, tucked under the shade of your beach umbrella. You lay stretched out on your towels, talking about everything and anything—everything except Rafe Cameron.

Diggory, Cara’s cute family dog, was happily lounging with you, curled up on a damp towel with his portable water bowl nearby.

“--and then I ghosted him because, like, what kind of guy eats salami, pickles, and Nutella for breakfast?” Cara finished, shaking her head as she recalled her short-lived fling with a Swedish Touron from last week.

You laughed, tossing the sunscreen aside after finishing your legs. “A psycho probably.”

“The worst part? His weird food choices—and yeah, plural—didn’t even make up for his performance in bed,” she scoffed, scratching Diggory’s head. “Two minutes in, he finished, and acted like he’d just found the love of his life.”

You shrugged. “What’s that saying? 9 out of 10 Tourons mistake a one-night stand for a love story.”

Cara let out a dramatic sigh. “Ugh, I think I’m done with Tourons for a while. Time to keep it local.”

You chuckled, but before you could reply, muffled voices drifted over from the side, catching your attention.

“Doesn’t get more local than that,” you noted, subtly glancing toward the new arrivals on the beach.

Cara propped herself up on her elbows, following your gaze. A slow grin spread across her lips. “Pogues?”

You smirked, eyes lingering on the tanned blond with a surfboard under his arm. “Maybank’s kinda cute.”

Cara shot you a look over her sunglasses, raising an eyebrow. “JJ Maybank? Okay, girl, you definitely have a type. He’s basically Rafe Cameron but like broke.”

You scoffed, furrowing your brows. “I mean, objectively, he’s attractive. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Objectively, they’re all one grade below us,” Cara said dryly. But then her expression shifted into an amused smirk. “But yeah, fair point. All four of them? Absolute smash.”

You both cracked up, the tension from earlier fading for a moment.

In the distance, a firetruck siren wailed, and Diggory let out a dramatic howl in response.

“Alright, alright, we get it,” Cara murmured, scooping up the still-howling terrier into her arms.

You chuckled but quickly went quiet as a 6-foot, sun-kissed Pogue strolled up to your little beachside oasis.

JJ Maybank’s cocky grin peeked under your umbrella, his surfboard left behind with his friends.

“Heard a dog over here,” he remarked, his gaze flicking between you and Cara. “Or was that one of you howling for me?”

You bit back a laugh, while Cara rolled her eyes. “Piss off, JJ.”

You knew better—she was flirting.

JJ let out a dirty chuckle, crouching down as Diggory leaped from Cara’s lap, tail wagging like crazy. “Your dog disagrees.”

He scratched the excited terrier behind the ears.

“Pfft, Dig would run up to a serial killer,” Cara scoffed. “He’s got no moral compass whatsoever.”

JJ smirked, glancing up at her, his eyes flickering over her sunscreen-glazed legs before meeting her gaze. “Neither do I.”

Okaaay, I’m definitely third-wheeling here.

"JJ!" Kiara Carrera’s voice rang out from a few yards away. "Stop harassing random girls!"

Cara smirked. “Your girl’s got a point.”

JJ scoffed, raising a brow before ruffling Diggory’s fur one last time. Then he stood up. “Just making new friends, Ki!” he called back.

His sunlit torso practically gleamed, and you quickly looked away when he caught you staring.

Awkwaaaard.

“You should let your dog run somewhere with actual grass,” JJ teased, turning back to Cara. “Poor guy’s paws probably got calluses from all that Figure 8 pavement.”

Cara tilted her head, amused. “What do you suggest? The Cut? Yeah, no thanks, I’d rather not get mugged and stabbed.”

“You wouldn’t if I was with you,” JJ shot back, flashing his cockiest grin.

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or gag.

Cara let out a laugh, waving him off. “One mutt's enough for me.”

JJ shrugged. “I don’t need a leash either,” he quipped before shooting her a wink and jogging back to his friends.

Once he was out of earshot, Cara turned back to you, a wide grin on her face and a hint of pink dusting her cheeks. “Okay, you’re right—he’s hot.”

You both burst into laughter as Diggory waddled back onto his damp towel.

And that’s how the rest of the late afternoon went: watching the Pogues surf (one cocky blond in particular), snacking on strawberries, and cracking up over dumb jokes and wild party stories.

As the sun began dipping the sky in shades of orange, you slowly started packing up your things.

And you hadn’t checked your phone once—not that it mattered, since it was turned off anyway.

As you folded up the beach umbrella, your eyes drifted back toward the Pogues, hanging out at their own little spot on the other side of the beach.

With a playful smirk, you glanced at Cara, who was rolling up your towels. “Not gonna say bye to your new admirer?”

Cara raised a brow at you. “Pfft, like I’d chase after a Pogue.”

You rolled your eyes. “Nooo, you’d rather ‘accidentally’ run into him while walking Diggory in the Cut.”

“Or maybe I just happen to be coming back from Barry’s, and Dig rips his leash and bolts straight to whatever hole Maybank crawled out of.”

You nodded slowly. “Riiiight.”

Cara stuffed the towels into her beach bag and added casually, “Speaking of Barry, every time I’m picking up my weed, he’s asking about you .”

For some reason, that made your face heat up. You frowned, leaning on the umbrella. “Cara, I’m not hooking up with your dealer.”

She just shrugged, kneeling down to clip Diggory’s leash on. “He thinks you're chill and that means something. He doesn’t like a lot of Kooks. I thought you also liked him?”

“He's cool. That still doesn't change the fact he's selling coke and other stuff,” you said flatly.

Cara met your gaze, looking almost dreamy. “Yeah, and? Imagine: he’s the bad-boy dealer, and you’re his sweet little Kook princess.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You need to stay off Tumblr and Wattpad.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Rafe Cameron Stan No. 1 for life.” She slung her bag over her shoulder and started walking off with Diggory.

You just rolled your eyes and followed after her.

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

Back at home, you had dinner with your parents, then retreated to your room. You dropped your bag and sank onto your bed, phone in hand.

And then it started again — the tingling nerves.

What if Rafe still hadn't texted you? The thought was somehow so depressing.

Oh my god, just check already.

You held your breath, waiting impatiently for your phone to fully turn on. The screen lit up and…

A huge smile spread across your face, and your heart skipped a beat.

SEEMED LIKE HE WANTED TO SEE YOU AGAIN.

Okay, okay, breathe. Don’t read too much into it.

AHHH, BUT HOW COULD YOU NOT.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Seriously, calm down.

And you did—until Cara’s words from earlier popped back into your head, and that heavy feeling settled in your chest again.

Rafe was probably just putting in extra effort so he could get a good grade on this project. This wasn’t about wanting to see you again or anything like that.

You scoffed. What a naive thought.

You know what? Who cares? He wanted to meet up again, and that alone was a nice thought—whatever the reason.

Alright, how were you supposed to respond?

One thing's certain: no more sexually frustrated emojis.

You checked the timestamp on his last message. A little over an hour ago. Okay, that meant enough time had passed for you to reply without seeming too eager.

That was fine, right? RIGHT?!

Ugh, not really. Again, you sounded like a stupid girl because of fucking course he had meant after school.

Frustrated, you closed your eyes and let yourself fall back onto your bed.

Why were you so bad at… this?

Cara had practically effortlessly won over JJ Maybank today (okay, maybe it had been the other way around but that wasn't the point), and she hadn’t done anything except be herself.

She always just said what was on her mind and if she got rejected or received a weird look in return, so be it. Even outside of flirting, she handled social interactions with ease.

Why couldn’t you do that? Why did you have to overanalyze every single move?

It had already cost you so many potential friendships—maybe even relationships. And no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t turn that part of your brain off. At least not during in-person interactions.

The worst part? You weren’t even truly shy. Well, okay, kind of. But you, you know, the real you—how you usually acted around people you felt comfortable with—was always trapped behind this stupid barrier your own mind had built.

It was so frustrating because—

Bzzrt.

Your eyes snapped open as you grabbed your phone.

Rafe.

It hadn’t even been five minutes.

You sat up quickly and tapped into the chat:

You scoffed amused.

Your heart was racing again, adrenaline kicking in.

You clenched your teeth, fingers hovering over the keyboard. You wanted to reply right away, but wouldn’t that seem too much?

Then again, he had answered quickly too…

But what if you texted back now and then he took another hour to reply, or worse, didn’t reply at all…?

Fucking hell, enough.

What if you just… shut your brain off for once?

Just do it. Who cares how it comes across?

You’d already reached peak embarrassment today—you had nothing left to lose.

So you typed your message and hit send without second-guessing it.

…

And it felt good. It wasn’t even a big move or anything, but still, it made you smile.

Your phone buzzed again, and you couldn’t help but laugh when you read his message.

Ruthie Whitmore was an arrogant bitch. Loud, annoying, stuck-up—the biggest pick-me girl in Figure 8. No, probably in all of North Carolina. And she was obsessed with your Economics teacher, Mr. Collins, who was at least in his late 30s.

You didn’t know what it was—Rafe’s bluntness, the fact that you could hide your awkwardness behind a screen, or maybe just how tired you were of your real self always being held back by your own hesitation—but texting Rafe Cameron suddenly felt easy.

Okay, maybe it was also because, deep down (yeah, you still couldn’t fully shut off your brain), you knew he wasn’t actually interested in you.

He just needed to pass art class because his high school diploma depended on it.

And that’s exactly why you saw this chat for what it really was: a conversation with a project partner who was hoping you’d help boosting his Art grade.

And just like that, the conversation was over.

For a moment, you stared at the chat—or more specifically, his stupid little profile picture which had to have been taken by Kelce or Topper at some party. Then you let your phone drop onto the bed and a huge, stupid grin spread across your face.

Normally, the way you had just texted him would have sent you into a spiral of overthinking. Shit, you’d been cheeky (yeah, yeah, nothing crazy but for you it WAS)—nothing like the awkward girl you had been this afternoon.

But the thing was, this was you. You had loud thoughts and strong opinions, you enjoyed joking around, saying stupid shit, and holy shit you LOVED the banter that came with it.

You were a loud soul trapped in a silent body.

I’m basically a closeted extrovert, you thought, laughing to yourself. It sounded ridiculous and cringe as hell but let's be real, it summed you up perfectly.

And honestly, it didn’t even matter what you said or how you acted. No matter what Rafe thought of you, in two weeks, your paths would split again anyway. and you’d go back to your own little bubble—where you could admire him from a safe distance.

Sure, if only it were that simple.

You rolled your eyes at your own naivety. You already knew that the second you saw Rafe Cameron again tomorrow, your nerves would be doing somersaults, and you’d fall right back into being an awkward mess.

Because that was the cruel difference between texting and talking in person: There was no screen to hide behind and no digital barrier to mask your insecurity.

And that was a struggle you had yet to overcome.

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

kms masterlist | <- part two | part four (soon) ->

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

Taglist (open):

@ursogorgeous13 @my-name-is-baby @moneybaby07 @jjasmiineee @sttaejoon-blog @vogueprincess

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itsnesss · 1 day ago

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𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮? | axel kovacevik × fem!reader

summary | after training, axel grows protective over a small cut on your cheek. His concern leads to a heated moment

warnings | fluff, intense emotional tension, mild physical violence, and romantic themes with possessive undertones

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

The dojo had been filled with energy that afternoon. The sound of punches, heavy breaths, and the palpable energy in the air testified to how intense the training had been. Axel, as always, was a relentless competitor, but that night something in his attitude had changed. Each of his movements was precise, calculated, and even though you stood firm in front of him, you could feel his persistent gaze. There was something in the way he looked at you that kept you on edge, even though your match had ended a few minutes ago.

Although the training had been exhausting, you felt the sting in your body, a reminder of the effort put into each punch, each block. The slight pain in your cheek made you notice a small cut, but you decided not to pay it much attention. Injuries like that were part of the process, part of the game. However, you knew something else was going on, something far beyond a simple scratch. Axel was watching you differently, and although you wanted to ignore it, you couldn’t.

You realized he was still by your side. He was gathering his things, but his eyes never left you.

"Good job today," you commented casually, trying to downplay everything you felt as you moved toward the exit.

Axel shot you a quick look, nodding as he put his gloves away.

"You too. You gave it your all."

You felt yourself blush but managed to smile softly. It wasn’t a big cut or anything serious, just a small scratch, but something in Axel’s expression concerned you more than you cared to admit. The dojo started to empty as some students hurriedly said their goodbyes, while others continued practicing in the corners. For some reason, you and Axel were among the last to leave.

The cool night air hit you as you stepped outside, but you didn’t feel relieved. The tension in the air still lingered. You walked toward the door, and Axel, a few steps behind you, suddenly stopped.

"What’s that on your face?" His voice was low but intense, making you stop immediately.

You turned around, confused.

"Huh?"

Axel quickly approached, his face already serious, closely examining the small cut on your cheek. Without thinking, his fingers gently brushed your skin, sending a shiver through your body at the contact.

"You have a cut," he whispered, frowning.

You tried to downplay it.

"It’s nothing, just a scratch."

"Who did this to you?" he demanded, his jaw tightening with a hardness you hadn’t seen before.

"Axel, it’s not important…"

"I’ll kill him," he muttered, more to himself than to you, rage evident in his tone.

You were taken aback by his reaction and quickly tried to calm him down.

"Don’t exaggerate."

"I can’t stand seeing you hurt," he said again, his voice deep and filled with something more you couldn’t identify.

The silence that followed was heavy, and Axel’s closeness made a knot form in your stomach. The brush of his fingers against your cheek made you breathe faster. You could feel him battling with himself, but you didn’t understand exactly what was going on in his mind.

"Axel..." you murmured, but you didn’t know what to say.

His eyes locked with yours, then they traveled to your lips. A slight shiver ran through your body, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. It was just you and him, too close, too tempting. The space between you felt thick, charged with something neither of you seemed willing to name.

"Why do you care so much?" you asked, feeling the need to understand what was going on between you.

Axel sighed deeply, running a hand through his messy hair. He seemed to be searching for the right words but couldn’t find them.

"Because... because it’s you," he finally said in a whisper, and the sound of his voice took your breath away.

You were left speechless. Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t expected that. Axel, always so difficult to read, suddenly seemed so clear, so vulnerable. You didn’t know how to respond, how to react to something so unexpected.

"I..." you started to say, but he gently shook his head.

"You don’t have to say anything," he interrupted, his voice as soft as the wind. "Just... take care of yourself, okay?"

You nodded, but when you tried to step away, Axel, in a sudden impulse, gently grabbed your wrist. You froze in place, feeling his grip—strong yet delicate.

"I don’t like seeing you hurt. I don’t like thinking someone harmed you."

You tried to downplay it.

"It was just an accident during the fight," you said, laughing lightly, trying to lighten the mood. "No one tried to hurt me on purpose.

"Still..." he whispered, his breath so close to yours that you could feel his warm exhale on your skin. "It drives me crazy."

Your heart started beating faster. You couldn’t help it—his proximity, his intensity, enveloped you completely. Before you could stop yourself, your hands instinctively rose, gently holding onto his jacket. Axel tensed for a second, his eyes darkened even more, and without thinking, he brought his lips to yours. The brush was almost electric, and for a moment, you stayed still, as if it were a dream.

But Axel didn’t stop. The kiss deepened, slower, more intense. At first, it was all exploration, searching for something more, for a territory neither of you had dared to conquer until that moment. But then, the passion, the tension built up from all those trainings, from all those glances, overflowed. Axel pulled you closer, his hands sliding to your waist, and you clung to him as if you didn’t want him to fade away.

That kiss wasn’t just a kiss; it was a message, something both of you knew you couldn’t ignore anymore. Axel, so fiercely protective, so intensely jealous, now had you close, and you didn’t want him to let you go.

Suddenly, Axel pulled away, but not too far. His breath was quick, and his eyes stayed locked on you, as if he were searching for an answer in your gaze.

"I’m going to find who did this to you," he said in a low voice, his gaze hardening again.

You were surprised, but you reacted immediately.

"Axel, don’t do that. I don’t want you to start a fight over something so insignificant. It was just an accident."

"I don’t care. I don’t like seeing you hurt." His tone had become more serious, but his hand still gripped your wrist.

"Axel, I’m not asking you to defend me. This kind of thing happens all the time. It’s part of the training." You said, trying to calm him down.

But he, with a frustrated sigh, didn’t seem willing to listen.

"I’m going to find who did it." His eyes gleamed with a fierce determination.

You stepped closer, looked him directly in the eyes, and with a firmness you didn’t know you had, you said:

"Axel, don’t do this. If you do, I’ll lose you, and that’s the last thing I want."

His eyes softened for a moment, and for a second, everything between you two dissipated. The silence that followed was heavy, but filled with understanding.

Finally, Axel sighed and, without releasing your wrist, nodded.

"Okay. I won’t do it. But I want you to know that I can’t let anyone hurt you."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you as you heard those words, and when he finally released your wrist, you took a step closer, looking at him gratefully.

"I promise I don’t need you to defend me. Just... stay with me, Axel."

Axel didn’t say anything at first. He seemed to be considering your words, looking at your face with an intensity that left you breathless.

Finally, he took a step toward you, closing the distance even more. His eyes went from your eyes to your lips and back to your eyes, as if he wanted to make sure there were no misunderstandings.

"I will, but... if anyone touches you, if they hurt you... I won’t allow it." His tone was firm, determined. You knew he wasn’t joking.

You smiled faintly, a little surprised by the strength of his promise. Axel, the guy who had always been a fierce competitor, now seemed willing to do anything to protect you.

"I know," you said with a slight laugh, trying to lighten the mood, but also feeling a warmth in your chest you couldn’t ignore.

Axel looked at you for a moment, and then, with a sigh, stepped back, his hands finding his pockets with a mix of frustration and relief.

"You know what? I can’t go home without resolving this. I’m going to find who did this to you." The determination in his voice was clear, and although part of you wanted to stop him, something inside told you that, somehow, he just wanted to protect you.

"Axel, don’t do it... please. It’s not necessary." Your tone was pleading, but he was already heading toward the dojo without hesitation.

"I can’t let it go," he said without looking at you, walking fast.

You ran a few steps to catch up with him, reaching him before he could get to the door. With both hands firmly on his arm, you stopped him, breathing heavily. "Axel, listen to me!" you said firmly, looking directly into his eyes. "I know what you’re feeling, and I appreciate you wanting to protect me, but I don’t want this to turn into something else. This isn’t about revenge."

Axel stood still, his body tense. You knew he was fighting against his protective nature, but something inside him wanted to understand you. Finally, he turned to face you, his expression softening.

"I know. But I can’t just stand still and do nothing when I see you hurt." He sighed, partially giving in. "Just... give me a moment to calm down, okay? I don’t want to make this bigger than it is."

You nodded slowly, and seeing Axel finally lower his guard, you felt a breath of relief.

#cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #cobra kai series #cobra kai season 6 #cobra kai x you #cobra kai s6 #axel kovacevic x reader #axel kovacevic #axel kovacevik cobra kai #axel kovacevic imagines #axel kovacevic one shot #axel kovacevic x femreader

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animationexhilaration · 2 days ago

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In anticipation of the next chapter with Leather, his deranged brothers, Jammy and Hitch.

Ok so, Leathers brothers are the ones i had the most fun with. I especially had fun with Hitch. Think I had the most freedom when designing these two because there's little to know indication of what they look like. the most to be inferred was "similar to Leather" and "farmers"

I just realized I gave them similar poses lol

Honestly, a lot of my interpretations of the brothers is very loose. From what I can gather, they are based on the Sawyer family, pretty obviously with Leather being a sexy Leatherface. But aside from that, I believe that Hitch takes inspiration from Nubbins Sawyer, who's known as the Hitchhiker and the most deranged; I mean we get dialogue from the Mc About how much we hate Hitch. I'm not too sure about Jammy; Its possible he could be the cook but that's a reach.

I took a lot of liberties with how Hitch and Jammy could be interpreted. Like, Leather feels like he's got a lot of older sibling energy, there's no way Hitch ISN'T a middle child, and Jammy feels like a youngest child. We get little info on their individual personalities outside of a few minute, easy to miss moments, based on vibes.

We hear about Jammy first; Leather comments that Jammy slacks off and in a later chapter, we have the option to tease Leather about Jammy fooling around with girls and from the way Leather reacts: he doesn't rule this out as a possiblity. So its likely he might have lured people to kill. Buts that's a headcanon tbh. But we do know the most about his personality, especially compared to his brother. Minus the blood and if he tried not to look like a shifty bastard, he'd come off as a simple farmer

Then we see Hitch in a later chapter, but he's unnamed until Leathers mask off episode. We don't get much info on him, it feels like he lurks in the background until its time to kill, so I reflected it in how his hat obscures his eyes. Whatever personality we can glean from him, i think we can also draw from Nubbins from TCM; psychotic and mentally deranged with erratic behavior. He might be the most bloodthirsty or confrontational, as evidenced by the fact he's the one hunting us down the most in Leathers mask off chapter.

It's pretty obvious that Hitch and Jammy are closer to each other than they are to Leather, as evidenced by the way they talk about him. From what I know about toxic family dynamics especially among siblings, it honestly feels like they might have been turned against him at some point. One could guess they somewhat cared for each other, but their hatred of witches and outsider overrode that. Their family is generally pretty fucked and we might get more info on them outside of the witch stuff. I hope so at least.

#dorian slashfic #slashfic dorian #leather slashfic #illustration #digital art #slashfic #Realized I had posted the wrong drawings; not different drawing entirely but tweaked

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lura-valentine · 2 days ago

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Answer to my survey:

It's just a concept image, but with every stroke on my graphics tablet, a story was put together in my head. It's totally mental and has nothing to do with Shigaraki per se, but I feel the need to share this fantasy with you.

Maybe when you look at the picture you have a completely different backstory. Write your thoughts in the comments or reblog✏️ to share your ideas like I’m doing now.

I for one am curious to hear what others think, so please don't be shy and join in 🤗

!!ヽ(ﾟдﾟヽ)(ﾉﾟдﾟ)ﾉ!!

The legend of Shigaraki, the cursed daimyō

Setting: Feudal Period (Medieval Japan)

This era is characterized by wars between samurai clans, shōgun rule, and Japan's isolation from the rest of the world.

Why this setting? Most myths and legends have their origins in the Middle Ages, which is why I chose this one.

Story

As a baby, Shimura Tenko was nothing more than a shadow in a dying empire - a child of a daimyō (Provincial ruler) with no future, rescued from the flames of war. An allied daimyō took in Tenko and his sister when their father fell to the blade of an enemy daimyō. They grew up in silk and honor, in a family that considered them their own, since the ruler's wife could not bear offspring. Shortly after his arrival, Shimura Tenko was given the name Shigaraki Tomura, heir to a fair clan, a ruling family that watched over their province with a firm hand but a kind heart.

However, his seventeenth summer brought not the rush of young power, but the bitter breath of death. A famine spread across the land like a heavy, invisible curse - fields withered, wells dried up, livestock died. The old prayed, the weak died, and in the dark nights people told stories about the cause of this torment: a Gashadokuro (Japanese demon (yōkai)) - a skeleton made from the bones of the starving, driven by an insatiable hatred for the living.

Tomura went into the forests with his father and his most loyal warriors to drive away the monster. The fight lasted an eternity, and when the daimyō seemed to have defeated the beast, the yōkai struck one last time - his bony claws digging into Tomura's chest and his curse flowing like black ink into his blood. With the last of his strength, the monster breathed out words colder than death itself:

"Wretched people... your kind will suffer as I have and decay will be your downfall."

Tomura survived, but the yōkai's dark poison now pulsed in his veins. The priests of his clan bound his curse with sacred seals, forcing the poisonous force back into the depths of his heart, but the seal was no cure - just a lock on the door to damnation.

When news of the cursed heir reached the Tennō (The official, divine ruler), the emperor was overcome with holy anger. He, a pious ruler, could not tolerate the existence of such tainted blood and ordered the shōgun to remove the scum.

But the Shōgun (the de facto true ruler of Japan) was a pragmatist - he didn't waste a second on supernatural fairy tales. No honorable samurai should risk his life for a superstition. Instead, he bought the services of a horde of Kusa-Musha, outlaw mercenaries who wiped out villages and anointed their blades with blood for a sack of coins.

⚠️🔞 And so they came in the night like wolves waiting for the wind. They set fire to the palace, killed samurai as well as servants and raped the women of the house - Tomura's mother, his sister... No one was spared. 🔞⚠️

In the ruins of the burning ancestral hall, as the icy night sky shook with the screams of the dying and Tomura's father was murdered before his eyes, it happened - the pain, the despair, the burning, inextinguishable hatred broke the chains and the seal broke.

A storm of pure darkness erupted in a single wave of destruction. Tomura's body tore apart with the birth of a new being - no longer human, no longer a mortal creature, but a walking curse. Flesh and bone gave way and the yōkai within him screamed, "Free at last!”

He destroyed everything and spared nothing, neither the murderers of his family nor the few survivors who had called him “Lord” that morning. A massacre that no one would sing about.

When Shigaraki woke up, he was lying on cold stone. His palace was nothing more than a skeleton of charred wood and molten bronze. The halls where his father once ruled are now rubble and dust. The streets - or what was left of them - were covered in ash that settled in his lungs as if it was taking away the last of his humanity.

He glanced at his hands and for a moment he thought they weren't his. Too long, too sharp, too strange. His nails were black, his skin looked like it was made of parchment and was streaked with fine, dark lines.

"The Hand of Decay" he thought, but before the thought was fully formed, a strange, deep voice interrupted him:

"Not the hand of decay... the wings of decay."

The voice was like thunder rumbling in his head, as if the sky itself was speaking to him - it was the yōkai within him.

Shigaraki froze. A shiver ran down his spine, so strange and yet familiar, as if something inside him had been sleeping for centuries and had now opened his eyes. His breathing was heavy, his heart was racing - or maybe it didn't beat at all anymore, maybe it had long since become something else.

Then he felt something, a tingling sensation in his shoulders, a tugging deep in his back - wings.

With a sound somewhere between a gasp and an unnatural crunch, he spread her. Thin, ghostly wings, veined like coarse parchment, as if they had lasted centuries before finding their true form at this moment.

The wind tugged at them as if to carry them away, but they held firm, trembling as a strange heat spread through his veins, making him drunk and burning the truth into his core.

He was no longer human, no longer a daimyō, no longer an heir to any name. He was a beast, a yōkai - a dragon of destruction.

And from that day on his name became a curse. Whispered on dark nights, murmured in prayers for mercy, a shadow over the land that had betrayed him:

Shigaraki, the cursed daimyō - the dragon with the wings of decay.

Basic idea of my kite design

Western Dragon

I deliberately chose a Western dragon design because the Japanese dragon (Ryū - 龍 or 竜) is different from them in many ways. They are often associated with water, storms and divine wisdom, rather than fire and destruction. Their symbolism ranges from protection and prosperity to chaos and divine punishment.

So why did I choose a Western design when a Japanese dragon can also represent chaos and divine punishment? The reason is that I know very little about Japanese culture and am only equipped with Wikipedia knowledge. I don't want to tarnish this or any other culture, so I chose a dragon design that is clearly associated with destruction, chaos and revenge.

Moth: Symbol of transience and death

Moths have a subtle but profound symbolism in Japanese culture. They are less well known than butterflies, but their meaning is often associated with transience, destruction and obsession.

In contrast to butterflies, which often represent rebirth and the soul, moths are seen more as a sign of decay.

Since moths often live in the dark and are attracted to light, they symbolize the longing for something unattainable.

There is a Japanese proverb: 「飛んで火に入る夏の虫」(Tonde hi ni iru natsu no mushi), which meant: "Like a summer insect flying into the fire." It describes someone who brings his own ruin - just like a moth that is drawn to the flame and burns up.

Some Japanese folk beliefs say that the soul of a deceased person can return as a moth to watch over the living or to deliver a message.

In some ancient tales, the moth is associated with Yōkai's and evil spirits that lurk in the dark.

Their “dust”, which remains on the skin when touched, was once considered “poison” or “curse”. It was believed that moths flying into the house at night heralded bad luck or an impending disaster.

My moral supporters

I mention accounts that my works 💜️ and 🔁. If someone no longer wishes to be mentioned, please write it.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #league of villains #bnha shigaraki #mha shigaraki #shigaraki fanart #shigaraki tomura #mha tomura #bnha tomura #tomura shiragaki #mha au #bnha au #my hero art #boku no hero fanart #my hero fanart #boku no hero art

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jananakookie · 2 days ago

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Rumor Has It | pjm - Chapter 8

💬 Pairing: Jimin x OC (Reader)

💬 Genre/Tags: enemies(?) to lovers, fake-dating au; angst, fluff, smut

💬 Chapter warnings: Jimin has dirty thoughts, bits of jealousy here and there

💬 Word count: 8.2k

💬 Recap:

Rumor has it, Park Jimin is single again after his latest girlfriend cheated on him with his best friend.

Rumor has it, he's willing to get back at them.

Rumor has it, you're the perfect means to an end.

Previous Chapter - Index - Next Chapter

Chapter 8: Past Ties, Present Tensions.

A week has passed since Jimin's and your night together. You shouldn't be so relaxed about it, but you must admit it was probably the best thing that could have happened to you two.

Admittedly, the morning after was a bit awkward at first. You weren't sure what to say and didn't know how he would react. Luckily, you're both pros at shaving off unpleasant situations and not taking yourselves too seriously, so it passed quickly. Not long after, you were yourselves again, fooling around and making jokes about it.

Now it feels like you just fucked away all the sexual tension and frustration that was undoubtedly in the air, making more room for the things that really matter. Like saving your reputation and… whatever Jimin wants out of this.

You have stopped trying to understand what he wants from Yeji. After your last talk, you're sure his biggest anger is directed at Taehyung instead of her. It's up to him if he can forgive her and wants her back––even if you could never understand it. It's not your place to judge his love life.

Once this deal is over, you'll likely have no further connection with him, so it's best not to get too involved in his life in the first place. He neither wants nor needs your advice. While things may seem friendlier now, you're still nothing but a means to an end. And that end is supposed to be Yeji.

It shouldn’t feel so strange to think about this, but you can’t change your feelings. You can say many things about him, and not everything will be positive, but Jimin is basically your life right now—in the most unromantic way possible. The status of your relationship doesn’t really matter; he is still the sole reason you’ve been leaving your house lately, whether you like it or not.

It's the events he invites you to, his friends you spend time with, and he's the only reason you can be around people without receiving stupid comments.

In a way, this is the best time you've had in a while, but it's just an illusion. As sad as it sounds, you had nothing before him and you'll have nothing when he's gone again. It's a bitter pill to swallow.

These are the thoughts that keep you awake these days and these are the reasons why you need this emotional distance from him. At the end of the day, he’s not your friend and he never will be.

Even now, this moment, while you're spending time with Nayeon, these thoughts are buzzing around in your head and distracting you from what she is saying.

“You can join me and my cousin on our shopping trip. I’ll show you around, we’ll go clubbing… just us girls. It would be so much more fun with you around,” Nayeon suggests, pouting a little to pursue you.

You grin, leaning back against the tree with a contended sigh as you shake your head. “An extended weekend alone won’t kill me, Nayeon. I’ll be fine,” you counter. “I don't mind being on my own for a while. And don’t act like I could afford any of that,” you wink, partly joking, partly not. The shops Nayeon and her cousin shop at are a hundred percent out of your financial capability.

“I’ll pay?” She sends you an innocent grin but quickly takes it back when she sees the look you give her and replaces it with a displeased growl. “Then ask Jimin for some pocket money! It's the least he can do if he's going to leave you here alone for four days,” she whines, sending death glares to a nonpresent Jimin.

“I told you before, I’m the one who didn’t want to come and I’m totally fine with staying here by myself for a few days. I promise.”

There's an upcoming extended weekend, and Jimin is spending it with his family in their vacation home in God knows where. He’s asked you multiple times to join them, telling you his parents have asked you to come and join them but you declined for many reasons. The biggest one is that you have no business being there on their family vacation.

The first time you met his family was nerve-wracking enough; you don't have to repeat that, especially not for several days at a time––you know you'll mess it up somehow.

“He hasn’t spent any time alone with his family in forever. I’ll let him have that,” you explain. “We really don’t need to see each other every single day. That’s not healthy anyway,” you try to reason, although Nayeon strongly disagrees.

“As his girlfriend, you’re a part of his family. He’d love to have you there, I’m sure.”

You love how concerned she is for you but it’s hard when she never accepts your excuses as to why you can’t always do these lovey coupley stuff things with her best friend and it’s a little bothersome.

“Nah, sorry. I already have a hot date with my TV and a frozen pizza. Gotta get back to my roots,” you wink, earning a soft slap to your shoulder that makes you laugh. “Mijoo’s boyfriend isn’t coming either so I thought it’d be a good opportunity.”

“Yeah but no one wants him there in the first place, I’m afraid,” Nayeon states.

“Not you too! Leave that poor kid alone, oh my God.”

Nayeon bursts into laughter, and you can’t help but join in, although you still feel a bit guilty about it. As your laughter gradually fades, you notice Jimin approaching. His dance lesson has run over time again, and you both agreed to meet here once he finishes. You see him scanning the area for you, and finally, his gaze lands on you after Nayeon kindly waves him over.

You show him a smile, which he returns before someone seems to call him from behind and he stops and turns.

From a distance, you can't understand anything, but you can see that Leah is the one who approaches him and gives him something. Jimin takes it and says something before he turns back around but she quickly grabs his arm and says something else.

“Ugh, I hate when she does that.”

You tear your gaze from the scene to Nayeon, who is watching them as well but with a displeased frown on her otherwise perfect face.

“Who? Leah?” You ask as she nods affirmatively.

“She just can't let it go, it’s pathetic,” she sighs, looking at you. “You’re better than me. If I were in your shoes, I would have told her off by now.”

You scoff out a laugh. “Aren’t you a bit dramatic? She’s not doing anything. As far as I know, Jimin is helping her with an upcoming performance or something.”

“Babe, trust me. She doesn’t need his help for anything, she just wants to be around him,” she replies, looking displeased.

You pause for a moment while you study Leah's body language. Her hand is still on Jimin's arm, and even at that distance, it's clear she's flirting. It reminds you of the dance lesson you accidentally barged into and how she behaved there. Maybe Nayeon is not entirely wrong. But this is technically none of your business although you can’t tell her that.

You shrug, fishing your phone out of your pocket, and try to occupy yourself with something else instead. “I’m sure he can handle one or two fangirls.”

“Of course. I didn’t want to plant any negative thoughts into your head, I’m sorry if I did that.” Nayeon apologies. “It’s just… given the circumstances, it would probably bother me more than you right now but maybe that’s the problem. I'm so pre-loaded by my previous relationship that I lack confidence. Jimin would never do anything like that. He's not like Taehyung.”

You understand what she means. Her history with Taehyung has left her with scars, but you're sure that she's far from being the only one who feels this way. You even have your own trust issues. You would never judge her for that. And even if you don't see this situation with Leah as half as dramatic as Nayeon does, there's still something in what she said that makes you wonder.

“What circumstances?”

She halts for just about a moment before she speaks. “Well you know… their past and all that. It would bother me if I was in your position.”

Nayeon sounds hesitant and her face changes from concerned to alarmed when she sees the confusion in your eyes.

“He hasn’t told you.”

“Hasn’t told me…”

“That they used to sleep with each other,” she explains. “She was basically the one to help him get over Yeji. You must know about that, no?”

Her reaction suggests that your silence is enough of a response. “I’m so sorry, ___! I didn’t know! I shouldn’t have said anything.” Nayeon sounds genuinely heartbroken for you and you wonder if your facial expression is doing anything it isn’t supposed to. So you quickly gather yourself and offer her an uninterested shrug.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m fine.”

“You know what? You’re right.“ Nayeon scoffs, sending glares toward Jimin. “He was the one who should have told you. I can’t believe he didn’t,” she fumes.

“He doesn’t have to tell me about everyone he was sexually involved with before we even met,” you reason. He doesn’t have to tell you anything really. Although it would have been nice if you had known since you feel pretty stupid now.

"I believe it would be the most respectful thing to inform you about that if it involves someone he is clearly still in contact with," she insists. "He's a good guy. I know it might not mean anything, but it feels pretty inconsiderate towards you."

You must admit that she has a point here. If Jimin was your actual boyfriend, it would probably make you feel uncomfortable, which is why you can understand Nayeon's reaction. But he isn’t your boyfriend and you’re not allowed to feel anything towards this revelation so the fact that it does bother you in some way, is bothering you in a whole different way.

“You have to talk to him about it. I love him, but his stupid boy brain probably doesn't even know he's done anything wrong, so you have to confront him about it, okay?”

“I will,” you sigh. “Just don’t say anything now,” you plead, seeing Jimin walk over to you.

He’s smiling as he breaks into a soft jog to join you a little sooner but it disappears as soon as his eyes fall on Nayeon’s death glare, that’s undoubtedly directed at him.

“Hey. Sorry, it took me so long.”

“I’m sure you are.” Nayeon doesn’t hold back even a little and you’re going to strangle her later for making this a bigger deal than it has to be.

He looks at her confused, giving you a chance to send glares her way. “What crawled up your ass?”

Nayeon ignores your subtle hints and grabs her bag before looking at him with a look that’s anything but nice. “Your audacity, Jimin. Your audacity.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He is now directing his question more toward you, realizing that he is not on Nayeon’s good side right now even if he has no idea why.

You don’t even know what to say or do, so you just avert your eyes and try not to get involved.

Nayeon doesn’t say anything else to him and just waves at you to tell you she’ll leave now, not without giving you a certain look that tells you to have that talk with Jimin.

Moments like this make you wish she knew the truth. It's unfair to lie to her when there's no good reason. Plus, you feel guilty for constantly lying to your friend.

She probably wouldn't approve of your plan, but she wouldn't tell anyone either. You can be sure of that. Besides, it would make so many things easier, especially for you. Sometimes you just need someone to complain to about Jimin. Jungkook doesn't count.

“Am I tripping or is she mad at me?” Jimin asks you this time directly.

“Yes, she is.” You sigh, dreading this conversation already.

“Well, are you going to tell me the reason?”

You let out a quiet groan and cover your face with your hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you used to be involved with Leah?” you blurt out, immediately cursing yourself for sounding so offended.

Jimin looks taken aback, opening and closing his mouth a few times before clearing his throat. He gives a somewhat shy smile and rubs the back of his neck. “I didn’t think that would be important.”

You hate yourself for even bringing it up and now having to have this conversation with him when it concerns something that is none of your business. You don't even want to imagine what he might think.

“It’s not!” You squeal, coughing right after. The words leave your mouth a little too fast. “I mean, I don’t care,” you clarify, watching him just nod his head but looking even more confused.

“Yea, didn’t think you would which is why I never said anything,” he chuckles. “So why are you asking me now?”

You groan again, cursing not only yourself but Nayeon for bringing it up. “I don’t even know. It’s stupid.”

However, you've already said too much and you know he isn't going to relent now, so you decide to give him a quick run-through of your and Nayeon's conversation earlier.

“Nayeon was complaining about her 'still trying with you' and was wondering why I was so okay with it considering your past. I clearly didn’t know what she meant and now she’s mad at you because she thinks you intentionally kept this little detail from me—which would be pretty shitty from you if we were actually dating which we aren’t, but I can’t tell her that so… it’s awkward now. Sorry.”

Jimin sighs, rolling his eyes in annoyance. “This is typical for her. She loves sticking her nose in other people’s business and making it her problem. She’ll come around,” he waves it off, seemingly not giving it a second thought, which is not to your satisfaction.

You don’t agree with him on this. He might be right about her making your situation her problem but she doesn't do it out of boredom or because she's curious. You understand her intention behind it.

“I think you misjudge her reaction,” you say, crossing your arms in defense. “She’s just trying to be a good friend to me. Purposely keeping that from me would be a pretty shitty thing from you if we were actually dating which we aren’t. But she doesn’t know that and I can’t tell her so… it’s not her fault. She’s being a real one.”

Jimin scoffs and turns away from you, checking his phone without saying another word, which only makes you angrier.

“Why the attitude now?” You confront him, not seeing the point of letting him off so easily. Not when he decides to be immature about this.

“What attitude, ___?” He sighs, clearly showing that he is now tired of you as well.

“You’re being a dick about it and I don’t get why,” you snap.

“I’m not being a dick. I just don’t feel like discussing my past hookups right now and I still don’t get why you care.”

“I don’t care!” You state, starting to really get annoyed. “You can do whatever you want as long as it doesn’t involve me and guess what? It does. It would have been nice to know that you've slept several times with that one girl you always have private dance lessons with and who is always around you, so I don't look like a clueless idiot when I'm asked about it. Cause tell you what, it was really fucking awkward and it was just Nayeon. I don’t even want to imagine what everyone else is saying about it. You think that has no influence on what is said about us?”

“For the record, she’s not always around. At all. We share a dance class and sometimes I stay behind to help her with something she doesn’t quite get. Nothing more, nothing less. I’ve never heard anyone say anything about it because I’m very careful about that and I still don’t get why it's that big of a deal for you. Why does it matter what a few individual idiots might think? Everything is going great.”

“Oh?” You raise your brows, feigning surprise. “That’s interesting because I remember it was a very big deal for you when this was about Jeon and me.”

“That was different—”

“Why?“ You cut him off. “Because you were the one that was made fun of? Because you can handle it better when people talk about me instead of you?”

Jimin’s eyes go soft at your words and he lowers his head with a soft sigh. “No, of course not.”

Your gaze on him remains sharp as he looks at you again.

“I didn’t think about that. I’m sorry. I didn’t consider what it’s like from your perspective.” He rakes his fingers through his hair, and you hate yourself for how attractive you think he looks right now when this is the completely wrong moment for thoughts like that.

“Look, what happened between Leah and me was never anything serious. Not in the slightest. We hooked up for a while because it was convenient. Well, at least for me but that was it. It was just a couple of times and we always parted right after so… no big deal. I didn’t tell you about it because it wasn’t necessary at the beginning; we weren’t close or anything and we barely ever hung out when we didn't have to. She recently asked me if I could help her with a few new steps and I thought nothing of it and agreed. That’s it. But I understand your concerns and she undoubtedly is a bit… clingy. I’ll tell her to find someone else to help her.”

“No, you don’t have to do that,” you frown. “That’s not what I wanted.”

“But you’re right. It really doesn’t look good. And she does get a bit too close at times. I don’t want her to get any wrong ideas. I’m taken after all,” he argues, sending a wink your way that makes a strange feeling appear in your stomach area.

“Do whatever you need to do. I just don’t want to be involved.”

He hums, not saying anything more. You don’t look at him but when he turns strangely quiet you do, seeing him smirk at you.

“What?” You ask, arching a brow.

Jimin chuckles, wrapping his arm around you and bringing you closer to his side. “You’re kinda hot when you’re jealous.”

You almost spit out the remains of your drink, suddenly getting into a coughing fit as you hear Jimin’s sinister laugh next to your ear.

“I am NOT jealous!” You deny and deliberately push him away from you. “Have you understood anything of what I just explained to you?”

You pout, realizing he doesn’t take you seriously at all; he’s still laughing so hard that his eyes disappear completely. Fed up with him, you stand up, ready to leave and escape from him. However, he reacts quickly and grabs your hand before you can go, pulling you back into him.

“Man. This is going to be hard,” he sighs, fighting against your attempts to get yourself free from his grip and smiling when your groans turn into slight giggles.

After you have regained your composure, you find yourselves in a position that does not suggest that you were arguing just a few minutes before. Jimin is leaning against the tree and you're lying on your back with your head in his lap. You enjoy the feeling of him playing with your hair as you absentimindedly pick apart a daisy.

It's a calming atmosphere that even allows you to ignore the noise of other students.

“You’re gonna be okay this weekend?” Jimin's soft voice suddenly rings out.

You form an answer with a certain look you give him. “Why is everyone asking me this as if I’m incapable of being by myself? It’s just four days. I’ll survive,” you chuckle, trying to poke his cheek from your current position to get rid of that intense stare he's giving you.

“I know you will but just in case… My parents would love to have you there,“ he says.

“Me, not so much, but I would cope,” he then jokes, sending you a wink with it. “The house is right by the sea. Could be romantic. You, a bikini, me…”

“Ew, I don't need any more reasons not to come, Park. I've already made up my mind,” you cringe, dramatically shaking your head to dispel the image as you lift your head from his lap and sit up next to him.

“But it’s going to be so boring!” He whines, dramatically falling flat on the grass and covering his face. “I wanna make out on the beach,” he pouts peaking at you through his fingers.

“You’ve never been less desirable,” you say in a dry tone, occupying yourself with your phone, not noticing him creeping up behind you until you feel his lips on your neck, reaching that spot right under your ear. Goosebumps break out all over your arms, and of course he notices. It makes you shut up real quick.

“You were saying?” He rasps, and even if you can’t see his face right now, you can imagine that huge smirk on his lips just fine.

You straighten your back as you turn and look around to make sure nobody is watching you as you clear your throat. “Whatever. It won’t happen.”

Jimin lets out a long sigh, mumbling something about this being the longest four days of his life, but he doesn’t pester you any further, which you’re very thankful for.

“I received an invitation to Leah’s birthday party,” he informs you. “Are we going? It’s next week, apparently.”

You put your phone away and raise a brow in question as you look at him. “You’re asking me?”

“Well yes. We’re only going if it’s okay with you. If you think it could be uncomfortable, perhaps we should leave it alone. Your decision.” For a change, he sounds genuinely interested in your opinion on this without trying to annoy or make fun of you.

You feel warm, knowing that despite his teasing, he understood your earlier conversation and is willing to let you decide what to do.

“Was it you who received the invitation or us?” You grin, aware that there must be a reason Leah invited him separately from everyone else.

“Inviting me automatically means inviting you too,” he scoffs, not sharing your perspective. “She knows that.”

“If you say so,” you shrug. “You know her better than I do.”

Why you feel the need to say that, you don’t even know and you bite your tongue right after, hating yourself for sounding so grumpy and silly when you already moved on from that topic. Plus you don’t want Jimin to get the wrong idea again because you are not jealous. You’re not.

Lucky for you, he doesn’t catch up on your tone. It’s either that or he doesn’t comment on it, and knowing Jimin, he surely would.

You don’t see the appeal in another unnecessary conflict so you swallow your distaste and muster up a smile. “We should go.”

“Really?” Judging by his expression, Jimin did not expect to hear that from you.

“Sure.” You shrug. “Why not?”

“Okay,“ he nods, showing you a considerate smile. “But now let's go back to the bikini one more time—”

You don't let him finish the thought before you stand up, rolling your eyes and telling him you’re going home.

It’s late and you’re already tucked under your cozy blanket, laying on your uncomfortable couch and scrolling through your phone when your doorbell rings.

You’re certain you didn’t order anything; your mom would have called you first, and Jimin should be out with his family by now. So, your introverted and lazy self decides to ignore whoever it is at the door.

Unfortunately, it doesn’t take long before the doorbell rings again.

Ringing the wrong doorbell once might be a mistake, but if the person tries again, it could be important. By now, you’re almost convinced that it must be Jimin making one last attempt to get you to join him in living out his unfulfilled fantasies.

You’re not exactly thrilled about being interrupted during your me-time, so when you open the door, you respond with a curt, “What?” However, your irritation turns to embarrassment when you find your new neighbor standing in front of you.

You saw each other for the first time a few weeks ago when he moved in, but you only had a fleeting conversation. He's the last person you expected to see at this time of night.

You gasp, quickly trying to cover yourself in front of the stranger. It's not that you're inappropriately dressed, but standing in front of a stranger in your much too big pajamas when you're not even wearing your bra doesn't happen usually.

“I'm sorry, I hate to bother you this late,” he apologizes, seeing how startled you look.

“No, no! I’m the one who’s sorry. I was expecting someone else,” you chuckle, brushing a loose strand behind your ear in a desperate attempt to make yourself look a bit less… unkempt.

“Can uhh can I help you with anything?”

Your neighbor, you think you remember his name is Luca, nods and seems to remember the reason why he knocked on your door in the first place. “Yeah sorry, I was wondering if maybe you have a few eggs for me? I haven't managed to do any proper grocery shopping yet due to the stress of moving house and I just finished my workout. Need to get some protein in.”

His answer makes you grin inwardly. Of course, he's a gym bro. Jimin would have a field day making fun of him for that response alone.

“Sure, wait a second. I’ll get them.” You close your door, leaving a small crack open, as you head back into your apartment to get the eggs. It's odd that the door is now wide open when you return, and your neighbor is peering inside with curious eyes.

His gaze then falls on you as you come closer and hand him the box, which he takes with gratitude but he’s not making any moves to leave yet. “Your apartment looks just like mine, but mirrored,” he says, more or less just stating the obvious.

“Yes, they’re pretty much all built the same.”

You don’t want to be rude, but you wish he would leave now. Small talk isn’t your strongest suit and you still don’t feel comfortable in your current attire especially when your opponent is very handsome even in just a simple tank top and joggers. Unfortunately for you, he seems to be a friendly one, so you think it can't hurt to be friendly as well. You're neighbors now, so you'll be seeing and talking to each other more often anyway. No need to immediately show him how secluded you usually are.

“So… have you settled in yet?”

His face immediately brightens at your question and you feel a bit of sympathy. It must be hard to move to a new city where you don't know anyone yet. Although this does sound like your ideal dream, he seems like he's happy to be able to talk to someone here.

“I have. I really like it here so far.” He smiles, looking genuine. “I’ll start my new job after the holidays and I guess that is going to be a challenge, but I still have a few days until then to really settle in some more. It'll be fine.”

You spent some more time to talk and get to know him a bit and you learn that he's really quite nice, if a little too flirty at times. Not like Jimin and also not like Jungkook but in a different way that is sometimes a little bit too much for you. But it could also be because he's still a stranger to you and you don't know exactly how to deal with it. All in all, he seems fine and you're glad that someone like him has the apartment next to yours.

As you laugh at something he said, someone enters the front door of your apartment building. You don’t pay much attention to it at first. Out of the corner of your eye, the person in the black hood looks familiar, but you assume it’s just another neighbor coming home.

Sensing the person approaching, you both finally turn to look in his direction. Even with the hood pulled down low over his face, you recognize him immediately.

Hearing the sound of your laughter, Jimin tilts his head up. His eyes lock onto you for a moment before glancing over at your new next-door neighbor with a raised brow.

“What are you doing here this late? I thought you had a family thing going on,” you gasp, momentarily forgetting your companion as your focus shifts to Jimin. At first glance, he appears a bit worn and tired, making you wonder if something happened, considering he should be at the Park family residence by now.

“I uh…“ he starts, sighing before he offers you a small smile. “Long story, actually. Can I come in?”

His hesitant reply makes you wary but you don't yet comment on it and give him a bit more space to enter your apartment. “Of course, come in.”

Jimin squeezes in next to you, and in your astonishment, you completely forget about Luca until you hear him clear his throat to make himself known.

“So, um, see you around, I guess?” he says with a chuckle, a bit uncomfortable. You immediately feel guilty about your rudeness. It seems wrong to abruptly cut off your conversation, but you don't want to make Jimin wait, and it's getting late. So, you offer Luca an apologetic smile and nod before wishing him a good night, which he returns.

Once inside, you find Jimin already raiding your fridge. “Who was that?” He asks nonchalantly when he notices you behind him.

“Hm? Oh, no one,” you wave off, more interested in why he’s here. But then you suddenly notice something. “Oh my God, what happened to your hand?” You gasp as you examine his swollen, bruised hand.

“Mijoo and Dickface broke up,” he says, not seeming the slightest bit phased.

“What?” you exclaim. “Did you hit him? Jimin, he’s seventeen! He’s a minor!”

“He broke her heart, I broke his nose.” He shrugs carelessly. “Sounds fair to me.“

You can't believe how uninterested he is in such a situation. “You could get in so much trouble for this you big idiot,” you scoff.

“I know. My dad yelled at me for an hour. You don’t need to remind me. And still, I’d do it again,” he shrugs. “He shouldn’t have hurt her. I warned him from the start not to mess with her.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, trying to let everything sink in for a moment before you sigh. Focus on the important things first. "How is she?"

"I didn't talk to her much. When I got home, she was crying. As soon as I learned what had happened, I went to see Chanyeol. When I returned home, my parents blocked me and screamed at me until I left voluntarily. And now I'm here," he explains, chugging a big glass of water in almost one go.

“You’re unbelievable.“

“Unbelievably hot?“ He grins, unmistakably trying to lift the mood a little.

“Unbelievably stupid,” you object. “What if he or his parents decide to report this? It won't look good on your resume. And if it gets around town with your father's business partners, have you considered that?“

He doesn’t respond, but the frown on his face shows that he clearly hasn’t thought about it.

“Look, no matter what you have to say, I promise you my dad has already said it,“ he sighs, gripping the empty glass tightly in his hand before placing it on the counter. “I appreciate your concern for my future, but I didn't come here for another lecture. I came here to escape exactly that.”

You're about to tell him that you don't care and that you're still going to lecture him all you want when you notice how exhausted he looks. His hand appears to be hurting badly, given how much he winces whenever he tries to move his fingers.

And instead, you go soft.

“Show me your hand,“ you demand, trying not to let on that you care a bit too much.

He looks up from it surprised but doesn’t make a move as he shakes his head. “Ah, it’s not that bad—“

“Jimin.“ You call out in a warning tone. “Let me see.“

He sighs but reluctantly offers you his hand so you can inspect it. It’s swollen, and the skin around his knuckles is slightly torn, but other than that, it doesn’t seem too serious. “You’re lucky; it doesn't appear to be broken,” you say, glancing up into his eyes and noticing that he’s already looking at you.

You take a moment to grab a cold pack from your freezer, wrap it in a cloth, and place it in Jimin's hand. “This should work for now. Well, it’s all I can do anyway.”

“Thanks,” he replies, giving you a kind smile, though it’s clear there’s something else on his mind. You decide to press him for more information.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Would it be okay if I stayed the night?” he asks hesitantly. “Things got a bit heated at home, so I left without my stuff. As far as I know, the guys aren’t home tonight, so I wouldn’t be able to get into my place either.”

You didn't expect him to leave in the first place, and since you have no plans, you tell him that his request isn't a problem for you.

Jimin looks incredibly relieved when he realizes he doesn't have to go back to his parent's house—at least for today. You're glad to be able to give him that. Even if he can be annoying, you wouldn't just let him run off in such a situation.

“So, you canceled a romantic weekend at the beach and the exclusive chance to see me lying in the sun, shirtless and sweaty, for this?” He suddenly asks, gesturing to your baggy pajamas, the fluffy blanket, and the now cold tea on your little coffee table.

You'd rather interrogate him about what happened at his parents' house than engage in that type of banter again, but you recognize that he clearly doesn't want to discuss it and is trying to lighten the mood.

“Looks like it,” you shrug. “Thanks for interrupting my plans for the evening.”

He lets out a soft, humorless laugh, his eyes intensely focused on your face. “Yeah, seemed like I was interrupting indeed.”

Taken aback by his sudden use of a sassy tone, you raise a brow in question. “Excuse me?” You ask, copying his tone. “Is there anything you have to say?”

“It was just an observation. That’s all.” He pretends not to care, but you know him better than that.

“Oh.” You smirk, enjoying the turn of events a little too much. “Look who’s jealous now.”

“Jealous? What is there to be jealous of?” He chuckles, looking nothing short of cocky while you watch him with a cheeky smile.

“Just checking,” you shrug. “You’re kinda hot when you’re jealous,” you mimic his earlier words, feeling superior for a total of three seconds before you’re pressed against the counter.

“And I think you’re very hot in your wrinkled, worn-out pajamas. What are we gonna do about that?” He’s testing you, his gaze slowly shifting from your eyes to your lips.

You can clearly feel his breath on your lips as he patiently waits for you to do the next step, which is a definite indicator that he’s too close. So you let your hands rest on his chest for a second, feeling his heartbeat steadily pound against it as he comes even closer. And then you lightly push him off and bring some much-needed space between you, leaving him confused and taken aback for a moment.

“You can take a shower if you want. I’m heading to bed soon, I’m tired,” you say, walking off without giving him as much as another look.

But before you leave the room entirely, you halt and turn back around to see him standing there, still in the same position, looking rather confused. “Jimin?” You call his name to get his attention.

When his eyes find yours just a beat later, you continue. “What happened between us a couple days ago,” you start. “It was a one-time thing. And it won’t happen again,” you clarify.

Jimin’s expression is somewhat dumbfounded at first but he quickly covers it up with his typical smirk and a leisurely nod. “I know. Relax.”

Then you turn away, leaving him to take a shower while you are left with your thoughts.

It seems that spending nights with Jimin has slowly become a regular occurrence, and it's surprising how little this seems to bother you. Sharing a bed with him has never felt strange, and you can’t quite explain why.

Normally it should be strange, right?

But he's lying here, next to you in your bed in nothing but his briefs. You can feel the warmth of his body radiating towards you, you can smell his freshly showered body, and you can hear him breathe. And it's pleasant. It's nice.

“He has a crush on you.“ Jimin’s voice silently rings through the dark room, keeping you from your thoughts.

You lift yourself up on one arm and glance over your shoulder. You can’t see him clearly, but he appears to be lying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head. He turns his head to look at you as well.

“Your neighbor,“ he clarifies, taking your silence as a clue that you don’t know who he is talking about.

You laugh humored, shaking your head. “A crush. Are we twelve?“

“He's interested in you. Clearly.“

You roll your eyes and then fall back onto your back, rolling over. He hasn't even met him—only caught a glimpse for a total of ten seconds without exchanging a word—and yet he is already making assumptions?

“Don’t be ridiculous. He was asking for eggs,“ you explain. “And I'm not his type.“

“What is that supposed to mean?“ he mocks, acting as if he couldn’t imagine why you wouldn’t be his type.

“You know what that’s supposed to mean,“ you say tiredly.

“That you aren’t ready to trade chili cheese nuggets with unseasoned chicken breast?“ He asks, making you internally laugh for knowing he'd make fun of Luca for being a gym rat.

“Exactly.“

He hums, seemingly agreeing with you.

You're on the brink of sleep, when he talks again. “But would you let him hit?“

“Jimin!“ You gasp, suddenly wide awake again at his bold question.

“What? It’s a fair question. You don’t have to date someone to sleep with them.“

“That is none of your business and I’m not answering that. Good night.“

He doesn’t say more for a while and you think you made it when suddenly, “He probably doesn’t even know where the clit is.“

You groan, getting up without further ado, making him sit up in a matter of seconds as well.

“Where are you going?“ he asks, almost panicky.

“Away from you. I'll sleep on the couch.“

You don’t get very far before a hand gently wraps around your wrist, pulling you into his body. His arms then encircle your waist, and he playfully lifts you up, only to throw—yes, literally throw—you back onto your warm bed, causing you to shriek out a laugh.

“Don’t even think about it, babygirl. You‘re stuck with me tonight.“

You‘re still laughing when his fingers softly brush against the skin of your stomach as he clings himself to you and cuddles you right into his chest, literally spooning you and holding you too tightly for you to try and make another escape.

“You're not thinking about sleeping like this are you?“

“Just for tonight,“ he murmurs into your ear, his breath tickling the skin on your neck and making goosebumps appear all over your body once again. You pray he doesn’t notice but he at least doesn't comment on it.

“I'm badly injured,“ he reasons.

“Badly injured him?“ You snicker.

Jimin hums softly again, appearing noticeably sleepier than he did just a couple of minutes ago.

“I warn you, Park, if I wake up with your boner poking my ass, I‘ll never talk to you again,“ you warn him. There's no answer anymore so you adjust yourself and make yourself comfortable to finally get some sleep.

The next morning, you wake up alone in your bed, confused by the cold air and the noises coming from somewhere in your apartment. Since you live alone, you wonder why you’re hearing these sounds while you’re still in bed. Then, you remember last night and realize that you fell asleep with Jimin but woke up without him. You assume the noises are coming from him, which is why you’re not worried about the possibility of an intruder for now.

With a groan that resembles the sound of someone emerging from a coffin, you slowly turn over and glance at your phone, only to realize that you’ve overslept.

Not that you had any plans for your day off, but it’s surprising nonetheless. You feel as if you’ve slept through an entire month. Completely disoriented, you stagger to the bathroom to take a shower and freshen up. When you come out, you finally feel like a functioning member of society again.

In the kitchen, Jimin is already making pancakes for you. Or at least that's what it looks like.

“Good morning,“ you greet him, wrapping your still-wet hair in a bun to prevent it from wetting the floor and the back of your shirt. “You’re making breakfast?“ The astonishment in your voice comes mainly from the fact that Jimin never cooks. He often orders, but cooking? Never. You always thought he was just as untalented as you in this department, or at least just as lazy.

“You don’t have shit in your kitchen,“ he murmurs with a tone that reeks of judgment. “Do you only ever eat when I take care of it?“

“Well, I had eggs,“ you try to defend yourself. “But yea, pretty much.“

Jimin's look reminds you a little too much of your mother. You try to soothe him with your best, most innocent smile, which earns you a smile back, coupled with a slight shake of his head.

“Some pancake mixture and half a liter of orange juice. How are you even able to survive?“

You grab one of the already-baked pancakes and start biting into it. Not caring about it still being a little hot.

“I just haven't managed to go grocery shopping yet. I’ll do it later, don’t worry.“

“I sure hope so.“

You grin, happily nibbling on your pancake and taking another one in your hand as you sit down at the kitchen table. “How did you sleep?“

“Like a baby. But I suppose not as good as you. I put a mirror under your nose half an hour ago to see if you're still alive.“

You laugh at that. That really must have been one long, deep sleep you had.

“Thank you again for last night. I wouldn’t have known where to go without you.” He looks over at you a little bashfully for a moment.

You dismiss it with a wave, as it's really no big deal to you. He hasn't been a stranger for a long time and you don’t feel uncomfortable with him around. “It goes without saying.“

He gives you a warm smile as he sits across from you, enjoying his own pancake. “When I finally gather the courage to go home and get my money, I’ll return the favor with a meal that’s a bit more... nutritious.”

You watch him closely. Even though it was meant as a joke, the situation with his family clearly weighs heavily on his mind.

“Don't worry too much about it. Your sister will get over it soon,“ you try and reassure him. “And your parents too. I may have exaggerated a bit last night. The guy is too cowardly to do anything about it, I'm sure.“

Jimin smiles at that and nods, appreciating you trying to make him feel better.

"That doesn't mean I approve of what you did. In my eyes, you're still foolish for it," you say, wiping the smile off his lips and replacing it with a slight pout that makes you smirk. "How is your hand?"

He lifts it up and wiggles his fingers a few times, which seems to work without much pain. It's still a bit swollen and red at the knuckles but looks much better than it did last night.

“It’s better. However, I didn't expect anything less given the kind care and attention I received from you.” Jimin grins, looking just as happy with it as you are.

You snort, accepting the compliment with a sense of pride, even though you know you didn't do much to deserve it.

You both finish your makeshift breakfast and clean up what needs to be done. Afterward, Jimin tells you that he is slowly getting ready to go home and collect his belongings. He hopes that no one will be there at this time and that they might have gone on their vacation without him, but he knows that’s just wishful thinking. His parents might be upset, but they are the type of parents who prefer to talk about their problems and work through them instead of avoiding topics and staying angry forever.

In your eyes, that sounds like a healthy relationship, and you wish it had always been like that in your own home. Although he complains a lot, you know he genuinely appreciates his parents and their approach. It's the confrontation he dreads. You can't blame him for that.

Jimin has just stepped into the bathroom when another knock sounds at your door. This time, it isn't a surprise to see your neighbor standing there with a carton of what you assume are freshly bought eggs.

With a radiant, handsome smile that looks straight out of a magazine, he stands before you. “Good morning! I went for a run and picked up some groceries on the way.”

“Oh, come on, you didn’t have to do that. Let’s just say the eggs were a welcome gift,” you grin, taking the carton from his hands and thanking him.

Before he can respond, Jimin suddenly appears behind you, catching him off guard. “You’re a little late. Would have been nice for breakfast,” he mocks, eyeing the small carton in your hands.

Luca halts, his blue eyes wandering confusedly between you and Jimin. It's almost funny how you can literally see little gears turning in his head as he makes the connection. “Uh, sorry.“

“No, don’t worry about it. And don’t mind him, please.“ you apologize, sending Jimin a warning look that goes unnoticed by him. “He’s not a morning person.“

Ignoring your comment, Jimin steps closer to you at the door. “Okay, I'm off now. Wish me luck.” Before you have a chance to respond, he turns your head toward him and kisses you. It's intentionally provocative, especially with your neighbor watching.

The whole situation naturally creates an awkward atmosphere between the two of you after Jimin has left, so you smile at him, silently hoping he will leave as well.

Fortunately, he excuses himself almost immediately, saying that he has more errands to run, which you find very relieving.

You reflect once again on what Jimin told you last night—he thinks your neighbor has a crush on you. While you can't say you share his opinion and you definitely don't have the same interest in him, the thought still makes you feel a bit giddy.

A/N: Penny for your thoughts pretty please?

#jimin au #jimin angst #jimin fluff #jimin imagine #park jimin #jimin fake dating au #jimin enemies to lovers #jimin e2l #jimin x reader #jimin slow burn #jimin #jimin smut #bts au fic #bts au

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b1xi · 1 day ago

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───𝘊𝘜𝘗𝘐𝘋───ハイキュー!!

Tsukishima Kei(ハイキュー!!)x fem!reader

Word count:3249

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

The atmosphere in the room was filled with a warm sense of camaraderie, a small respite after the intense day of matches. You plopped down onto the soft mattress, stretching your arms above your head as you stifled a yawn. Slowly getting up, you crawled on your knees towards the group of girls who had formed a circle on the carpet.

In the center, Miyanoshita was expertly finishing folding a paper cootie catcher, making sure the creases were perfect before she began writing words inside. Yachi, with her characteristic nervousness, made space for you beside her, giving you a shy smile.

“It’s ready,” the girl announced excitedly, holding up the paper game for everyone to see. “Who wants to start?”

The girls looked at each other, some with restrained smiles and others with expressions of slight doubt. Suzumeda brushed her hair behind her ear indecisively while Shirofuku laughed quietly.

“Come on, anyone up for it?” Miyanoshita insisted, waving the cootie catcher in the air.

“I’ll go,” you broke the silence confidently, shuffling forward a little and holding out your hand.

Yachi watched you expectantly while Miyanoshita nodded in satisfaction. “Okay, pick a number.”

You looked at the cootie catcher and quickly chose. “Eleven.”

Miyanoshita flicked the paper, opening and closing it eleven times before looking at the options inside. “Now pick a word,” she instructed, holding it out in front of you.

Your finger pointed at random, and everyone leaned a little closer to see the result.

Shirofuku covered her mouth with one hand to hide her laughter. “Oh, this is getting interesting.”

“Come on, read it out loud!” Suzumeda exclaimed excitedly.

Her smile widened before she read aloud, “You have to steal a kiss from the number eleven on your team.”

There was a second of silence before the entire group erupted into excited giggles and murmurs. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you immediately understood who the dare was referring to.

“Lucky you,” you muttered, your smile faltering as you looked at the girls.

“Rules are rules,” Miyanoshita hummed, waving the paper in amusement.

“Come on, it won’t be that hard,” Suzumeda chimed in with a playful laugh.

“Hard? Tsukishima doesn’t exactly seem like someone who is approachable,” Shirofuku commented with a raised eyebrow.

“All the more reason to make it quick,” Kiyoko added with a slight smile, causing everyone to look at her in surprise at her sudden contribution.

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you thought, feeling the heat wash over you even more. You looked at the girls, all of them with a mix of amusement and nervousness, and nodded determinedly.

“You could choose a punishment instead,” Shirofuku suggested in a sympathetic tone, but the mockery in her gaze indicated that it wouldn’t be that easy to get out of the task.

You let out a sigh and stood up with feigned resignation. “Fine, I’ll do it. But if he kills me afterwards, I want my funeral recorded.”

The laughter echoed again as they all stood up with you, forming a small entourage of conspirators who set out into the hallway in search of their target. You walked with cautious steps, your heart pounding as you scanned the hallway until you finally saw him:

Tsukishima stood in front of the vending machine, inserting a few coins with his usual bored expression.

“There it is,” Yachi muttered, giving you a gentle push on the back.

You took a deep breath before moving forward with determination. The others stayed at a safe distance, watching with obvious expectation.

Tsukishima didn’t seem to notice your presence until you were already next to him. Just as he pressed the button for his drink, you stood on your tiptoes and, without giving him time to react, you brushed the corner of his lips in a quick kiss before immediately taking a step back.

The can landed with a clang into the machine, but the real bang came seconds later.

“OOOHHHHHHH!”

You turned around startled to find Nishinoya and Tanaka gaping, with Hinata and Kageyama behind them, all with expressions of absolute astonishment.

“NOT WAY!” Nishinoya shouted, pointing at Tsukishima as if he had just witnessed a miracle.

“W-what was that?” Kageyama asked, confused, while Tsukishima remained frozen in place, still holding the can and his face redder than you had ever seen.

“Hah, this is the best thing that happened to me this week,” Miyanoshita whispered between laughs while Suzumeda and Shirofuku tried to contain themselves.

Tsukishima finally seemed to react, bringing his hand to his mouth and frowning tightly.

“You’re a complete idiot…” he muttered quietly, but the barely perceptible tremor in his tone gave away that you had taken him by surprise.

Your nerves got the better of you and all you could do was give a quick apology and quickly back away from the group of girls watching everything from a corner.

The hallway was silent for a moment before an explosion of laughter echoed behind Tsukishima.

“No way!” Hinata doubled over in laughter, holding her stomach. “Tsukishima went blank!”

“And he even blushed!” Nishinoya added, pointing at him dramatically.

Tanaka slapped him on the back with a mocking smile. “You get nervous over a stolen kiss, Tsukki?”

Kageyama, though less expressive, crossed his arms and looked at him curiously. “What did they do to you?”

Tsukishima closed his eyes in obvious frustration, adjusting his glasses in an attempt to maintain his composure. “Nothing happened.”

But the barely perceptible blush on his cheeks gave him away, which only caused the boys to laugh harder.

Tsukishima clenched his jaw and grabbed his drink from the vending machine, trying to ignore the laughter around him. But the boys weren’t going to make it that easy for him.

“Come on, Tsukishima, one little kiss and you’re already like that?” Nishinoya insisted, nudging him.

Hinata, even more excited, pointed at his face mockingly. “Look at his face! It’s red.”

“Nothing happened,” Tsukishima grumbled, adjusting his glasses in annoyance before turning and walking steadily away towards the dorms. The heat on his face didn’t go away, though, and the echo of his classmates’ taunts accompanied him the whole way.

Meanwhile, you had hurried back to the room, closing the door behind you with a ragged sigh. Your heart was still pounding, and the blush on your cheeks was impossible to hide.

“Well?!” Miyanoshita exclaimed, creeping closer with a smile of pure amusement.

“Your face is red,” Shirofuku observed calmly, though his eyes sparkled with curiosity.

Yachi looked at you nervously, as if the emotion of the moment affected her as well. —You did it

Kiyoko gave you an expectant look, clearly waiting for confirmation.

You sighed, bringing your hands to your cheeks to try to dissipate the heat. —Yes…

"I knew it!" Suzumeda high-fived Miyanoshita, both of them laughing knowingly.

"And not only did you do it, but you enjoyed it" Miyanoshita added with a mischievous smile.

"Not true!" you exclaimed quickly, although the way you avoided her gaze said otherwise.

Shirofuku rested his chin on his hand, watching you with amusement. —Oh, you did enjoy it.

"Why not?! He's tall, handsome, and has that bad boy attitude!" Suzumeda intervened, exaggerating a dramatic sigh.

"Don't overdo it…"you murmured, unable to erase the nervous smile on your lips.

The morning passed with a deceptive tranquility. There were no direct comments about what happened the night before, but the knowing glances from the girls and the mocking smiles from Tanaka, Nishinoya, Kageyama and Hinata every time you walked past them reminded you that no one had forgotten what happened last night.

The hallway was silent, interrupted only by the echo of your hurried footsteps on the linoleum floor. You held your towels a little tighter to your chest, as if that would make you invisible, but fate seemed to have other plans for you.

As you turned the last corner before the gym, you collided with someone tall and firm as a wall. A quick pair of hands kept you from losing your balance, but the towels you were carrying weren’t so lucky, slipping from your arms and falling in a messy pile on the floor.

“Really?” Tsukishima’s unmistakable voice rang out with his usual exasperated tone.

“S-Sorry…” you muttered, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you bent down to hastily pick them up.

To your surprise, he did the same, picking them up with ease. His expression showed no annoyance, but there was something about the way his golden eyes landed on you that made you look away.

“Are you going to carry them all by yourself?” he asked, raising an eyebrow as he handed you half the pile.

“I can handle it myself…” you insisted, though your tone lacked much conviction.

Tsukishima snorted in barely perceptible amusement. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go, before the idiots see us and start another round of stupidity.”

The sound of his footsteps echoed in the nearly empty hallway, the echo bouncing off the walls as the two of you walked forward in a tense silence. Tsukishima walked beside you, his expression inscrutable, the towels in his arms like a shield separating him from any conversation you might initiate.

The weight of the situation was pressing down on your chest, and you felt like if you didn't speak now, the awkwardness would swallow you whole.

"About last night..." you began cautiously, keeping your gaze on the floor.

Tsukishima let out a sigh, but didn't stop.

"I don't want to hear an apology," he interrupted you with his dry, characteristic tone.

You frowned, surprised by his answer.

"But I..."

"Why did you do it?" he asked bluntly, his voice devoid of apparent emotion, but with a hint of curiosity that didn't go unnoticed.

You bit your lower lip, looking away. The truth was simple, but saying it out loud made it seem even more absurd.

"It was a dare," you finally confessed, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks. You clenched your fists, trying to ignore the way his golden eyes bore into you with a mix of amusement and disbelief. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Tsukishima let out a huff, a lopsided grin spreading across his face.

“So you stole a kiss from me just because someone told you to? How obedient,” he commented with a smirk, leaning slightly towards you.

You frowned, offended by his tone, though the heat on your cheeks gave you away.

“It’s not like I meant to,” you defended yourself, crossing your arms.

“Sure…” he murmured with feigned understanding, his expression still amused. “So, if someone challenges you again, are you going to do it again?”

You shot him a glare, but Tsukishima simply arched an eyebrow, as if he was actually expecting an answer.

“I don’t know, Do you want me to do it?” you blurted out without thinking, a little defiant.

For a moment, the blond looked surprised, but his expression softened with something you couldn't interpret.

“Hmph. I guess we could try again. But this time, do it right.”

You rolled your eyes at his comment, keeping a neutral expression as you walked together down the gym hallway.

“You're talking nonsense,” you muttered, not giving it much thought.

As you reached the gym, the hustle and bustle of training filled the air. Tsukishima dropped the pile of towels on the small supply cart and, without saying anything else, headed toward the court, where the players were practicing their serves and receptions.

You quickly arranged the supplies before heading toward Ukai. As soon as you approached, the familiar scent of cigarettes impregnated in his clothes reached you, a constant that was associated with his presence. The coach stood by the line of the court, arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the players, evaluating each movement with a critical eye.

“Do you need anything else before formal practice begins?” you asked, keeping a neutral tone, accustomed to the routine.

Ukai let out a soft sigh, eyes narrowing as he watched Hinata perform a serve.

“Let them not kill each other before the match,” he replied wryly, watching as Hinata slipped away from Kageyama’s furious scolding after missing one of his receptions.

“One thing at a time,” you commented in a light tone, crossing your arms as you followed the scene with your gaze.

Training continued with its usual intensity. The players moved with energy, repeating plays over and over again under the watchful supervision of the coaches. The sound of the ball bouncing against the ground was almost constant, an echo of the concentration and effort that permeated the gym. The team gathered in a small circle at the edge of the court, listening intently to the final instructions before the most demanding practice of the day.

“You can do it, boys!” You cheered enthusiastically, giving both thumbs up in the boys’ direction, a brief, genuine smile on your face.

—Umh... excuse me.

Cautiously, you reached out and poked the cheek of the blonde woman sleeping on the futon, covered from the waist down by a sheet, with your index finger. You expected at least a layer of clothing under that fabric. Before you could decide whether to insist or let her sleep, the woman woke up abruptly, making you take a step back, surprised.

"You're finally awake" you commented, bringing a hand to your chest to calm the shock.

The blonde blinked several times, looking around with a confused expression. Her gaze scanned the classroom, as if trying to locate herself in time and space, while she muttered something unintelligible to herself.

"Umh... you're Saeko Tanaka, right?"

The woman didn't answer immediately. Instead, she stretched her arms above her head, letting out a yawn before scratching the back of her neck nonchalantly.

“What time is it?” she asked in a sleepy voice.

You glanced quickly at your watch before answering her. When you looked back at her, you noticed she was already watching you with an arched eyebrow, analyzing you with open curiosity.

“ who are you?”

Her tone wasn’t exactly hostile, but it was inquisitive enough to make you hesitate for a second before answering.

“I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself with a slight nod. “I help out at the volleyball team your brother plays on.”

Saeko tilted her head, as if trying to fit the information into her still sleepy mind. Suddenly, a spark of recognition lit up her expression.

“Ah, I know who you are,” she said with a lazy smile, resting an elbow on her knee as she pointed a finger at you. “I’ve heard of you before. My brother has talked quite a bit about the team’s ‘adorable foreign assistant.’”

You couldn’t help but blink in surprise.

“Adorable?”

“Yeah, he said it like that,” she said with a laugh, shrugging. “But he also mentioned that you work really hard with Ukai and keep those messy players at bay.”

You let out a sigh, crossing your arms.

“I do,” you replied proudly.

Saeko looked at you with a half smile, but before you could say anything else, she let out a sigh and muttered,

“Help me find my pants?”

The request took you by surprise. You opened your eyes in disbelief, blinking a few times as if you had misheard “What?”

“I had a little too much to drink last night,” she admitted casually as she rummaged through her bag for something. “And now I don’t know where I left my pants.”

You brought a hand to your forehead, suppressing a laugh.

“Okay, I’ll help you.”

The two of you began to inspect the classroom, checking between chairs and desks for the missing item of clothing. As you walked forward, curiosity got the better of you.

“Who were you drinking with last night?”

Saeko chuckled, as if she had expected the question.

“Oh, with some teachers and coaches,” Saeko answered, resting her chin on the palm of her hand as she watched you from her position on the futon. “Takeda was there, though he didn’t drink much. He was more of the leader of the group.”

“That sounds like him,” you commented, giving a slight smile.

“Ukai, on the other hand… well, I don’t know how he’s still alive with the amount of alcohol that man can handle,” you added with a laugh. “And some coaches from other teams were there too, I don’t remember all their names, but one of them insisted on having shot competitions.”

You raised an eyebrow as you pulled a pair of wrinkled pants out from under a chair and held them up.

“You were part of the competition?”

“Obviously,” she said proudly, taking the pants from your hands. “And I don’t want to brag, but I think I put a few of those guys to shame.”

You shook your head, amused.

“What surprises me is that you didn’t wake up in a worse place.”

Saeko casually pulled on her pants and shrugged.

“Oh, it’s happened before. But for now, I need coffee. Are you coming with me or do you have to go back to being the adorable assistant?”

You paused for a moment to consider her invitation. The boys were in a match against Nekoma, and while you didn’t want to be pessimistic, you already knew how that would end. Plus, Saeko seemed like someone fun to hang out with.

“I’m going with you,” you finally decided.

Saeko smiled approvingly, and together, they headed to the school cafeteria. At this hour, the place was relatively quiet, with only a few students scattered around the tables. They lined up to order coffee, and as they waited, Saeko turned her head slightly towards you with an interested expression.

“So, what brought you here? I mean, to Japan,” Saeko asked, stepping forward as the line moved forward.

It took you a moment to respond, absentmindedly tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before clasping your hands behind your back.

“My parents were offered a good job here, which is why we moved,” you explained naturally.

“Ah, I see. And how has the experience been?” she inquired with genuine interest, turning her head slightly towards you.

“It was a little difficult to adjust at first, especially because of the language and culture. But over time, I started to enjoy it. There are so many interesting things here, and working with the team has been one of the best parts,” you concluded with a genuine smile.

“That’s good. Not everyone manages to adapt so easily,” Saeko commented curiously before tilting her head slightly. “With or without sugar?”

“Without sugar,” you replied with a smile.

The blonde nodded and, when it was her turn, she ordered both drinks. Once they were served, they headed to one of the empty tables by the window, where the natural light softly illuminated the wooden surface.

The conversation flowed easily, jumping from one topic to another without a fixed direction. At some point, Saeko began to tell you a long anecdote about her rocky relationship with a boy from her university, a story that had lasted almost five months and that, according to her, was a mix of indecision, misunderstandings and pure exasperation.

“And trust me, collage men can be even more complicated than teenagers. If you thought high school kids were indecisive, wait until you deal with one of these,” he said, dramatically stirring his coffee.

“And that’s not even the worst part—” He cut himself off abruptly as his phone screen lit up with an incoming notification.

He took the device and read the message with a resigned expression before quickly typing a reply.

“Ahh, sorry, sweetie, but I have to go,” he said with a sigh, putting the phone back in his jacket pocket.

“Don’t worry,” you replied with a sympathetic smile. “I’m just glad we got to chat for a while.”

“We definitely need to do this again. Next time, with something stronger than coffee,” he said matter-of-factly.

You weren’t sure if he realized you were barely fifteen, but you decided to let it go. Instead of correcting her, you simply rolled your eyes in amusement.

“We’ll see.”

“That sounds like a ‘yes,’” she hummed, winking at you before dismissing you with a casual wave of her hand.

You watched her walk out of the cafeteria with her carefree energy, her blonde hair whipping around with every step. You smiled to yourself before letting out a soft sigh and taking the last sip of your coffee. The moment of rest had been nice, but it was time to head back to the gym.

#fanfic #haikyuu #hinata shoyo x reader #sugawara x reader #tanaka ryuunosuke #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #yamaguchi x reader #haikyuu hinata #haikyuu tsukishima #kiyoko x reader #haikyuu kiyoko #takeda ittetsu #ukai keishin #tsukishima fluff #tsukishima kei x reader #haikyuu yamaguchi #oikawa x reader #yachi hitoka

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butyouaremymess · 2 days ago

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The Bridgerton fandom (especially the benophie and kanthony fandom) and fatphobia

the bridgerton fandom - especially certain subfandoms - have a huge fatphobia problem and it's really awful. i'm going to include some screenshots of tweets and i don't think these screenshots need any explanation but i'll still talk about them.

but first things first, nicola and therefore pen are not exactly plus size but she is - especially compared to the other lead actresses - not conventionally thin and i think the fact that that nicola/pen isn't even considered plus size makes the fatphobia worse tbh. you just have to be not be conventionally thin for certain people to be awful about your body.

we start with how certain people talk about the intimate/sex scenes in S3 (the first three screenshots are about the carriage scene and the fourth screenshot is about colin and pen having sex scenes). i don't think i have to explain what an awful person you have to be to make these kind of comments about people and their bodies, especially since we don't get to see people in bigger bodies be desired on screen that often. and bridgerton is a show that got famous for their sex scenes but somehow only in s3 it's a problem and we get comments like these? i mean wtf is this like talking about melting their eyes and making fun of that scene??? interesting how they don't want to make fun of the intimate scenes in s1 or s2.

i wish it would stop there but somehow these people are getting worse and i want to talk about how certain people in this fandom think that criticizing the wardrobe and make-up and hair in s3. let be real these criticisms are always a way for them to be fatphobic in a sneaky way because somehow they always only criticize penelope's hair and make-up and costumes and even call her frumpy and her hair in s3 "regency hooker look" like ?????

i think these screenshots are self-explanatory because these are just plain fatphobia because apparently you have to have a certain body type to fit in a bikini and of course only polin doesn't have chemistry.

i had to look at these tweets over and over while making this post and i still can't believe how vile and awful these people are and all this because for once we had a lead that wasn't conventionally thin and her story wasn't about her body and she was desired. and i think that's the problem for a lot of people. colin loved and desired pen and the story didn't focus on her body or weight and she wasn't made to feel less because of her body. a lot of fatphobic people want people who are not conventionally thin to feel ashamed about their bodies and they want to see them be humiliated ad this clearly didn't happen in s3. colin was on his knees (literally and figuratively) for pen.

and let's not forget how a lot of people wanted pen to settle for lord debling, someone who openly told her that he couldn't love her. no one wanted daphne to settle for the prince or kate to court dorset but somehow pen is supposed to settle for a loveless marriage? because even if certain people don't want to admit it, they don't want people in bigger bodies to find love and get a happy-ending. because why else would certain people fantasize about the queen beheading pen for being lady whistledown or even about anthony killing pen. apparently pen deserves to die for her mistakes but daphne who sa-ed her husband and anthony who promised his sister to a pedophile deserve love and forgiveness.

and it interesting how a certain sub-fandom got a lot of new stuff on valentine's day, but the only thing these people could say was how classy the new season is compared to s3. mind you, we haven't seen any scenes of s4 yet, but in their minds s3 is trashy and s4 is going to be classy. a season with a lead with a bigger body is trashy but the seasons before that were classy and the season (that hasn't even aired yet but has a thin lead again) is once again classy and it's so frustrating that these people won't even acknowledge how horrible and awful they are.

the bridgerton fandom is one of the most fatphobic fandoms ever and most of the fandom doesn't even care or actually supports this behaviour and worse celebrates it.

(btw, some of these tweets are also incredibly vile towards luke and keep bringing up his looks and rumors about plastic surgery which is a topic that should be discussed as well.)

#bridgerton #fatphobia #penelope featherington #penelope bridgerton #nicola coughlan #thought about censoring the usernames but tbh everybody who posts and says such awful things deserves to be shamed so idc #tw fatphobia #tw sa mention #fat shaming

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jinwoosbabyboo · 2 days ago

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EEEEE I LOVE YOUR WEITING AND THOUGHTS AND SELF SO MUCH!!!! <3333 so, I'm curious....about what you think about the fact that mc had to be killed multiple times in this time line...when she was a child...that's darker than a usual ask sorry but I can't stop thinking it. Do you think the lads know about it? Cause I suspect that Caleb definitely does, and some how I also think Raphel does too 😬

And if they didnt...how would they react?? Cause I forget if mc knows or not but she's much too chill for her situation like......ma'am......

You're gonna make me blush ☺️🩵 I had a day from hell yesterday and it rolled over into today a little which is why I wanted to just talk to you guys and this made my day better thank you nonnie

Now what do I think.....

I think MC being killed over and over in this timeline is insane bro especially as a child when they were experimenting on her and realized she could die and come back with no memory. I've always thought child experimentation is insane because why are you doing that to a child? My mother actually allowed doctors to study me consistently from the age of 6-17 (they paid her for it) so I've been poked and prodded for a good chunk of my life and it's not fun. I've had so many mri scans, X-rays, needles, treatments, and tests run on me I actually hate hospitals now. I wasn't even sick and I still to this day don't know what they were studying. The only reason they stopped is because I turned 18 and could make my own medical decisions. I could go on and on telling yall what they did to me, but lets not go down that rabbit hole.

Do I think the lads men know?

Caleb - ABSOLUTELY

Caleb definitely remembers everything and im a firm believer this is why he's messed up in the head. He probably watched her forget him time and time again meanwhile he's also being experimented on and those scientists probably pushed him to the brink of death to see if he was like MC. Im sure he's pissed about it which is why he is hell bent on keeping her safe and I commend him for that his love is from a pure place even if he has trouble expressing it

Xavier - ABSOLUTELY

Thats his whole premise of trying to save MC because he's had to watch her be sacrificed to Philos which is why he doesn't have a good relationship with his dad and also why he doesn't want to be king. He literally will let his planet die to save his baby.

Rafayel - YUMP 100%

He's made comments to MC about her bad memory and how she's forgetting something, but he keeps coming back to make her fall in love with him over and over because he physically, emotionally and mentally can't go against her. He's a lemurian they live and die for love I understand why he cries when he's alone my shayla ☹️

Sylus - DEFINITELY

Sylus has his soul is tied to hers I feel like he might've felt her die over and over throughout the years and he was definitely hurt bad when the shopkeeper told him she was disgusted/afraid of him when they finally met again

Zayne - Im not sure actually

I feel like Zayne knows something, but just isn't saying anything because in the 'gift' option for him when he gives mc the jasmine made of ice it feels like he's trying to ask her "are you having dreams of another life like me?"

If they didn't know....

The crash outs - Xavier & Caleb The silent assassin's - Sylus & Rafayel The one that tries to find a way to cope - Zayne

Side note: MC is chill about her situation because she don't know shit literally sis has no memory of shit

#nikaaaajusttalkin

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boyneptunee · 1 day ago

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wip, 1.6k, tomarry, seer!Harry, time travel

(or) Harry is a point between very observant and very tired with life. Oh, and he keeps accidentally predicting the Future (chaos ensues).

"...and you are absolutely, completely, utterly sure that you have no Seer blood in you."

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Malfoy, God's be good! Yes! Yes, I am sure." When he saw the blond's lips move to open again, he added: "Asking again will not change my answer, shut your mouth."

"But Harry, what if someone down the line was a bast–"

"Continue that sentence and the next time you're walking drunk and trip over your robes I will let you fall to your death in the Moving Stairs." He spat. "Go on."

"How... how did you know! I didn't tell anyone it happened!" The godsmacked look on Abraxas face did something funny to his insides, a thought between a laugh and dispair at this silly blond boy who had simply been too drunk and couldn't look behind him to notice Harry had been following him the entire time that night to make sure he got back to his dorm and safe to his bed.

He didn't comment.

Abraxas groaned in an untimely, entirely inelegant way.

"You must be the devil. I get why Tom likes you so much."

Harry made a funny face, feeling conflicted. He didn't need to know exactly how much Tom Riddle liked him. He had enough at one glance, thank you very much.

Things had gone to shit one fine Tuesday afternoon when Falco Lestrange had almost killed all his Slytherin and Ravenclaw peers in a Potions Classroom.

The boy had been distracted, stealing glances across the tables and admiring the way the light hit the hair of a pretty Ravenclaw witch, where it cascaded in lustrous curls down her back to reach her waist. Her dark skin shone in the afternoon sunlight, and Falco was thinking of the best ways he could present his courting gifts, possibly in the Courtyard surrounded by white flowers, assuming they be received—.

His hand slipped, and instead of stirring his potion twelve times clockwise after simmering for twelve minutes, he stirred only eleven before he picked the Angel's Trumpet flower just after adding the last uneven cut pieces of Bloodroot.

His hand was about to let go of the flower with distracted movements when another, smaller, colder, closed around it.

He was startled out of his trance and he let out a grunt of discomfort as the cold hand closed more firmly around his, and that noise attracted the attention of his classmates.

When he followed the hand up an arm and up a body he found Evans face attached to it, black and white curls bouncing as the owner tilted his head towards him.

Before he could pull away in disgust, the boy hissed at him.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Are you trying to kill yourself? Kill us?"

He stared uncomprehending at the boy before him, their hands still clasped.

When Slughorn hurried over, yellow robes flowing and catching on the corners of the adjacent tables, he took one look at the putrid color of the potion, another back at the cutting board where the uneven pieces sat inconspicuous and a last one at the flower crushed in between their hands, before he waved his wand dramatically over Falco's unfinished potion and vanished it to the void without further ado. His big blue eyes were open wide, a struck expression graced his round face.

"You almost killed us all!" He exclaimed, as flamboyantly as usual, despite the gravity of the situation. "One touch of a whole petal in the potion and the explotion would have taken us all out! And if not, the fumes from the poisonous plant would have done us in!" Evans had finally let go of his hand, green eyes hard. "This is a NEWT level class! Mistakes like this are ground for expulsion Mr. Lestrange!"

Falco's mouth opened and closed, no explanation gracing his lips.

"If I may, Professor" the blasted boy at his side dared to utter "I think it was an honest mistake." He cast a glance at Falco, venomous green eyes piercing him down to his soul. The boy flinched. "We can't all be potion prodigies. Specially when our mind is not in the classroom, and instead it's down in the Courtyard."

Falco turned incredulous eyes at him.

And that was that. It was the day the rumour started.

Harry Evans, the fucking seer of the House Slytherin.

(What they didn't know was that Harry had been sitting in one of the windowstills facing the courtyard with his sketchbook in hand when Falco Lestrange had walked in, hand in hand with a Ravenclaw. Harry didn't know her name, but could guess from the way Lestrange's eyes darted from side to side and nervously fixed his hair every few seconds that she was his betrothed, or was about to be. Harry guessed the later, or else the lad wouldn't be so anxious to be in her presence.

The boy seemed to catalog every nook and cranny of the inside yard, from the vines creeping up the walls and the statues, to the fountain drizzling water in the middle, to the few students sat scattered around.

He was thinking about it, Harry knew. His hands kept twitching towards the lapels on his robes, only to move out of the way at the very last moment.

Ah.

The proposal was to be carried out at a later time, it seemed.

He sketched them like that, standing side by side and smiling shily at each other with blushes high up their faces.)

It was not the only instance, sadly.

There was that one time, when one of the more damaged, older moving stairs had graced the path of the sixth year Slytherins on their way back to the Dungeons and Harry had simply taken one look at it, remembered the disgraceful fall he'd had on his fourth year where his leg had been trapped up to his hip and commented loudly from the back of the group:

"I wouldn't step on the second to last step, if I were you." He had nightmares about being trapped there as the old staircase moved and disappeared to wherever it went to when it was not in use.

But as things were, here he was a new student of questionable origins and no name to himself to back his claims, and every Slytherin simply dismissed him as if it had been an annoying insect buzzing by and not a wizard speaking.

Until, one of the boys walked to the second to last step, and his leg fell right through.

"Told ya" he muttered to himself, as he waved around the crowd and jumped the last couple of steps, not looking back.

Or that one time Harry had slapped the tart out of Orion's hand when he had been about to take a bite.

"Don't!" He had said.

And that was that.

(For the next long hours, the majority of the population of Hogwarts had been in line seeking treatment in the Hospital Wing for a horrible stomach bug.)

(Not Orion though.)

Or that time when Harry had predicted that Greengrass would fail her Care of Magical Creatures practical exam, looking at her with sorrowful eyes.

Or when he correctly gave books and trinkets and supplements to people before they even knew they needed them.

"I have an iron deficiency!" One student muttered excitedly at another. "Evans gave me booster the other day and recommended I speak to the Matron! And he was right!"

"One time I failed a Transfigurations essay and before I could tell anyone about it he approached my table in the library and dropped a whole stack of books. Said they might be of help!"

Or that one time with the tea leaves—.

By the time Harry stopped a Hufflepuff fourth year from being impaled to death by a stray broom free falling from unknown heights and close enough to the outside walls of the castle to not be noticed before it was too late, Tom Riddle had taken to watching the boy from the shadows, dark blue eyes following his every movement.

He moved around life as if it was a dance to be had, coming close to other people and pulling back in a symphony only known to him. The skips and turns of his steps unpredictable, sometimes even brisk but non the less graceful, when he seemed to go one way but change directions at a moments notice, something dark passing through his green eyes.

He looked at situations backwards and from a distance, head tilted in a curious way before his green eyes lit with recognition and he could, to a point, predict entire scenes just from one glance.

The way he looked at people, haunted and knowing and compassionate, like he knew each and every secret lodged in their souls.

Like he knew Tom's secrets too.

The first night after the feast, Harry Evans had stared long and hard at Tom from across the Common Room, green eyes unreadable and face not betraying anything. It had been going on for twenty minutes straight, seemly not noticing the other students stares, before furrowing his brows and quietly nodding to himself.

Tom had dismissed him after that, thinking the boy had probably noticed the hierarchy of the snakes and deemed Tom on top of the food chain.

But strange things seemed to happen around him. More importantly, didn't seem to happen.

He had an uncanny ability to predict the future, it seemed.

The rumours started and spread around Hogwarts like wildfire.

Slughorn was a terrible gossip, and even the portraits learned of Harry's careful consideration of the world.

It was not without consequences.

This beautiful, beautiful boy could be an asset.

It didn't help that he was pretty, with his wide green eyes and honey colored complexion. His curls where mostly black, except where they were not. White had steadily but surely been taking over the parts on the back of his neck, and the hairs framing his face. Tom often wondered if it was intentional, or if he'd had it since birth.

Tom wanted him for himself.

And another man wanted him gone.

(OR) we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands on AO3 (68k, 10/13 chapters, seer!Harry, fluff and angst, teenage drama, friendships, Harry gets adopted like three times in a row).

#soulseeker #ao3 #tomarry #fanfic #tom riddle #tomarrymort #archive of our own #tomarry fic #tomarry recs #medium length fic #wip

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buckydeservesthebest · 1 day ago

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thanks @legalandnotease for your contribution, I'm going to make mine as well because this user @quimbolgees seems to love to ignore how ableist and victim-blamer Sam was for literally the entire series with Bucky.

Did it ever occur to you that Sam was also grieving? He too lost time off of his life, lost Natasha without closure and the other friend he gave up his health, life, freedom and safety to help abandoned him as well?

Of course, I know that Sam as well as all the victims of the Blip (which also includes Bucky) were going through the loss of time of their lives, time, maybe some family and friends, etc. Bucky was going through exactly that and also dealing with being in control of his own body for the first time in 70 years, with all the trauma of being tortured, stripped of his identity and forced to kill against his will, plus brain damage, C-PTSD, and on top of that losing the only family he had left and the only one who truly believed in him: Steve.

I personally know what it is like to deal with a grief that leaves an identity crisis for having lost a very close loved one, I have also lived the experience of seeing one of his possessions being misused by the person he had entrusted it to, oh and believe me, my family and I were so offended that we did not hesitate to go and claim that, and guess what happened?? The person realized his mistake, even though it was unintentional, but he never dared to use the extremely offensive comment of “this has nothing to do with you” because that is one of the lowest things you can say to a close relative of the deceased. This is why I can perfectly understand the way Bucky felt about seeing the shield in the hands of the government.

And how do you dare say Sam had no real rationale to give up the shield when Bucky knew of Isaiah’s existence and the shit he dealt with fer decades when he did exactly the same fucking thing Rogers did?

The thing is simple, Sam gave up the shield (I mean... to the government, what a bad idea) because the poorly written script made him think that the world would not want a black Captain America, this was before knowing Isaiah's story. But Sam as such never, at any time faced public rejection or a single comment that he would not be accepted for being black, even Rhodey asked him why he had not taken the mantle without making any reference to rejection for racial issues. Isaiah's situation was horrible and unfair without a doubt, unfortunately that kind of racism was quite common in the decade from the 50's to the 80's - 90's and you could not raise your voice, but in 2024 things have changed enormously, many black men were already in high positions of power as Rhodey, Nick Fury, etc, that's why once Isaiah's story was known he was immediately recognized as a hero by society.

But beyond the fact that the writing was so bad as to not properly cement this issue, *the real problem*, as I've tried to explain for numerous times now, was NEVER that Sam didn't feel comfortable taking the mantle as Captain America, BUT THAT HE GIVED UP THE SHIELD TO THOSE WHO COULD MISUSE IT, AND THAT IS LITERALLY WHAT HAPPENED. And again, after Steve's death, Sam remained in possession of the shield for a long time without having taken up the mantle as the new Cap, AND BUCKY NEVER HAD A PROBLEM WITH THAT. HIS JUSTIFIED ANNOYANCE CAME FROM KNOWING IT WAS NOW THE GOVERNMENT WHO WAS IN POSSESSION OF THE SHIELD BECAUSE OF SAM'S BAD DECISION, AND THAT WAS WHY THERE WAS NOW A NEW CAP WHO WAS NOT THE RIGHT PERSON FOR THE JOB. *THAT'S BUCKY'S REAL PROBLEM.*

How Bucky managed to not grapple or try to understand Sam’s mental strife knowing what he did means he’s an obtuse little fuck when it comes to emotionally attaching himself to an inanimate object in lieu of feeling abandoned.

Like when you have never experienced the horrible experience of painful grief, and you just throw ignorant comments about it... 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️

The attachment to the belongings of the loved one you lost and now feel like the only memory you have of them, IS TOTALLY NORMAL AND UNDERSTANDING, IT'S CALLED GRIEF AND IT TAKES A LONG TIME TO BEGIN TO HEAL, many psychological and thanatological studies have proven this on tons of occasions.

So please, if you have no idea what it feels like to live through this, then don't flippantly throw out offensive comments like this, which are an insult to people like me who still after years have not recovered.

But him feeling betrayed and hurt gives him no leeway to be a bastard to Sam as he was.

Expressing your displeasure at seeing one of your loved one's closest possessions being misused is not called being a “bastard” it is called wanting to defend that belonging when your loved one is no longer here to do it himself. And again in case you don't get it right, IT'S CALLED GRIEF AND IT SHOULD BE RESPECTED.

Releasing Zemo was a fucked decision because he was a murdering, manipulative piece of shit and was an entire stab in the back to the people who took him in and helped to deprogram him, gave him a semblance of rest where he’d known only war.

You love to deliberately ignore certain information to twist things in your favor don't you? I explained it before: THE BADLY WRITTEN SCRIPT THAT MADE ZEMO THE “GREATEST HYDRA EXPERT” MADE HIS ASSISTANCE NECESSARY IN THE MISSION TO FIGHT THE FLAG SMASHERS. THE BOOK “THE ART OF THE TFATWS” LITERALLY SAYS THAT BUCKY AND SAM DID THE RIGHT THING BY RESORTING TO HIS ASSISTANCE, do you understand this or do I have to repeat it?

And once again, do you understand that Zemo is not only responsible for T'Chaka's death but he was also an abuser of Bucky himself and one of the people who hurt him the most by framing him for the UN bombing, causing everyone to try to kill him throughout the movie, causing him to be held guilty without a fair trial, and later subjecting him to mind control which takes away his agency? In a just world part of Zemo's sentence should have been for all the damage he caused Bucky.

Oh and since you want to start with the false “Bucky betrayed the people who did him the favor of helping him” argument, let me burst your bubble and clarify that the reason T'Challa offered Bucky assistance in removing the Winter Soldier's programming from his brain, was not because of how magnanimous T'Challa is in wanting to help a poor man who had suffered too much, but rather that that assistance was given in the form of an apology for having spent it trying to kill him without being sure if Bucky was the one truly responsible for his father's death, and also in the form of thanks because thanks to him and Steve, T'Challa was able to get to the one truly responsible. The canonical comic Avengers Infinity War Prelude literally.

Bucky needing to readjust how he lived his life was solid advice. Seeking to put those in prison that his controlled mind and body put into positions of power was not sustainable.

Sam's “advice” has nothing to do with Bucky “readjusting to life”, all Sam did was tell Bucky that he is responsible and guilty for the acts he was forced to do under mind control and to overcome that he has to “do the work and put himself in the service of those ‘he wronged’ like the Winter Soldier”. As rightly said before by my friend legalandnotease, THAT IS CALLED VICTIM-BLAMING. BUCKY DOES NOT HAVE TO DO ANY WORK BECAUSE HE IS AS BIG A VICTIM AS ALL THE OTHER PEOPLE WHO WERE HARMED BY HYDRA'S ACTIONS.

Him being of service, being present in his life and surrounding community would be beneficial to himself as well.

NO, THERE IS NOTHING HEALTHY OR BENEFICIAL FOR BUCKY TO GO ABOUT PRESENTING HIMSELF TO THE PEOPLE HE BELIEVES HE IS THE VICTIMIZER OF, AS THE PERSON RESPONSIBLE FOR THEIR MISDEEDS. Supporting Dr. Raynor's victim-blaming idea of victim-blaming in the interaction between victims, where one of them is presented as the victimizer not as a victim as well, is extremely harmful and damaging to both parties. Sam has never had experience as a victim of abuse, enslavement nor mind control, so he should know that he is NOT qualified to offer appropriate and healthy advice to a victim of this situation.

You don’t get to dictate how what Bucky said affected Sam and you don’t get to pretend that some of the shit he said didn’t reek of self centeredness.

I don't come here to pretend anything, simply that, unlike you, I fully share and understand Bucky's experience of what it's like to deal with a painful grief of losing a close loved one that leaves you with an identity crisis. And guess what? Every single one of Bucky's actions are totally in line with that. To say that this is “self centered” is extremely insensitive and offensive to a grieving person, BECAUSE IT IS NO MORE WANTING TO PROTECT AND PRESERVE THE BELONGINGS OF THAT PERSON WHO IS NO LONGER THERE TO DO IT HIMSELF. And when you add to that the fact that that possession (the shield) is in the hands of one who can misuse it and endanger someone, it increases by 1000 Bucky's justification for disagreeing with Sam's decision.

All the other points are already well covered by my friend… And in closing, we Bucky fans never minimize the trauma of all the other Marvel characters who have also suffered greatly, such as Rocket, Nebula, Thor, Yelena, Natasha, Isaiah, etc. Our outrage is based on the fact that unlike each of them, Bucky has never had the opportunity to be empathized with or understood by anyone other than Steve and just a comment from T'Challa, he has been blamed for his trauma and experiences over and over again, and forced to make amends for what his captors forced him to do. Bucky has been denied the right to be recognized as a victim, when the victimhood of everyone else has never been in doubt.

After watching the only scene in BNW that mattered to me, I wanna emphasize how important it is that bucky says one of the most emotionally mature things that a character has said in the MCU in a long while.

He asks sam “Why?”

He doesn’t correct Sam. Tell him he’s wrong. He doesn’t make the moment about himself.

It shows that Bucky fucking grew after TFATWS. a show where he is so self-obsessed (because of his trauma which isn’t inherently his fault) that he rarely considers Sam’s emotions.

Bucky Barnes has one of the best arcs in the MCU, and I think him even saying “I love you” is another sign that he is frankly pretty damn emotionally intelligent and either the writers or Sebastian Stan decided that it was important to include.

#long post #bucky has been subjected to victim-blaming and ableism by Sam throughout the series #but no Sam fan has acknowledged this #all others like sharon and isaiah have had their suffering recognized #and when Bucky wants to express his feelings and deal with his grief it seems he has no right to do so #bucky barnes #mcu ableism #mental health #and its disgusting treatment in all things MCU #anti tfatws #the falcon and the victim-blaming

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uceyliyahh · 1 hour ago

Text

FRIENDS

Summary: “Heart on your sleeve like you've never been loved,” After being in an abusive relationship Imani decided to close herself off until she gets drafted over to the Raw Brand bumping into her best friend Jimmy as she started to catch feelings for him, but will her heart let her fall for him?

Jimmy Uso x Imani Blackwood

word count: 3697

AWFUL GRAMMAR IM GETTING BETTER I SWEAR LOL.

smut warning; it’ll come in the story randomly so PLEASE PLEASE look out for it I’m not really good at writing ✍🏽 smuts but I’m improving at the moment.

comments, likes, repost are appreciated I would love the constructive feedback in what area I need to approve in. 🤍

ALSO! I don’t not want nobody stealing my fanfics or take it as theirs that will be an issue fasho so keep it cute respectfully.

I only own my OC along with the make up scenarios

Again mdni you have been warned.

TAGS ⬇️ lmk if you wanna be tag 🏷️ @pinkwithhearts @420days @jstarr86 @empressdede @angiedawn02 @biancasreign @ctinadiva @celesteheartsjey @duhitzkay380 @luuvprincess @bunnnyyys @mzv11 @nbanenefrmdao @xbriexx

@bebesobrielo @skyesthebomb @aikosilo @papireigns-05 @punksyeet @paigereeder @magnificentbouquetmusic @clubsoft @sharmelasworld @mjonthetrack @serenity-noble @alyyaanna @animellver

@hunnidmilly @ctinadiva @charmed-dreamssss @fearlesschimera @partypoison00 @mselenalovebug @bloodlinesbabe93 @luvrsluxe @4milly @xbriexx @trippinsorrows @yyaktayak @yana3sworld @theusotwinzcom @bossbitch-22

Ø4

FLASHBACK 4 Imani was busy training on the ropes, practicing new moves in preparation for her upcoming match in ROW. As she sprinted back and forth, she noticed Zilla entering the gym, a look of concern etched on her face. This sight made Imani pause her training, sensing that something was troubling her friend.

She noticed him reaching into his gym bag, and for a brief moment, it looked like he was pulling out a gun, sending a wave of fear through her. She called out his name, and he immediately froze in place.

"Zilla what's wrong?" Imani asked.

"It's Jordan for some reason he got people down here tryna get you I'm not going to let that happen," He said as she nodded her head.

Why is he acting this way? What could possibly be his reasoning? Is it really just because she chose not to return to him? After all, he was the one who manipulated and controlled her, particularly when she sought to pursue her dreams without him in the way.

Imani stepped out of the ring, her heart racing as she grabbed her phone. The messages from Jordan were alarming, filled with threats about how he would destroy her life if she didn't return to him.

J💔: Imani you got me fuck up yo' I will make sure your life is miserable if you don't come back home

J💔: I got my people up there at yo' job to get you back since you wanna keep playing with me and if you even think about finding a new nigga he'll be dead too

J💔: so stop playing and come home now I miss you and I miss us

Imani was taken aback by the messages she was reading from him, scoffing at his apparent confidence.

IMESSAGE 💬 Mani💫: fuck you Jordan I will never come back to you, you don't miss me nor our relationship you just miss having control over me J💔: stop being fucking stupid Mani them Samoan niggas won't save you Mani💫: I'm family so they will save me regardless of the matter because you wanna be stupid so how about you leave me tf alone J J💔: bitch I will fucking kill you goofy ass over any nigga don't matter who, but aight you just wait

Imani noticed Zilla entering the building, and their eyes met. She could see his gaze soften when he noticed the tears in her eyes. He quickly approached her and wrapped her in a warm, comforting hug.

"Hey, hey, everything is going to be okay Mani aight?" He reassured her.

"My people will protect you, you're family,"

Imani gazed up at him as she gave him a smile while continuing to hug each other.

FLASHBACK OVER

IMANI It's been a few weeks since I last spoke to or saw Jimmy. Our last interaction left a strong impression on me; he had me feeling completely overwhelmed, and it seemed like everything around us was affected by that moment. He reached out with a few texts and calls, but I found myself putting my phone on do not disturb, choosing to ignore them for now.

It's surprising to see how much energy he has during intimacy. I didn't dwell on it much as I distanced myself from him and the situation we were in, feeling that it was fundamentally wrong. I kept it all to myself, not even confiding in his brother, knowing how he tends to react.

As I prepared for my match against Liv tonight, I couldn't help but feel the intensity of our ongoing rivalry. Standing in front of the mirror, I took a moment to admire my outfit, ensuring everything was just right for the competition ahead.

(Imani's Attire)

As I approached the door, I could hear a knock echoing through the room. When I opened it, I was greeted by Jey, dressed in his signature yeet outfit, with his glasses perched playfully on the back of his head.

As I closed the door, I noticed him standing there with his hands on his hips, and we shared a hug. It felt like I might be in a bit of trouble.

"What's up Joshua?" I asked him.

"Why haven't you been texting or calling Jimmy back Mani?"

Jimmy has already informed his brother about this situation, and now I feel trapped. With Jey aware of what's been going on between Jimmy and me, there's no escaping it. I let out a deep sigh and leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms.

"I really feel lost about what he expects from me, Josh. I expressed to him how inappropriate this situation is, but he just ignored my concerns. I understand he's not satisfied with Trinity, but that doesn't give me the right to interfere in their relationship. That's just not who I am."

"I understand that, but why are you runnin from him?"

"I mentioned this during our family outing, Joshua. I'm trying to safeguard my heart, and I really need some time to heal."

"You know Jimmy isn't goin to hurt you Imani," I let out a heavy sigh, my fingers tangling in my hair as frustration washed over me. I never wanted things to unfold this way, yet every time he's near, it's as if a switch flips in my mind and body, drawing me in against my will. "I know, Joshua. I know he wouldn't but I'm not jumping into a whole bunch of shit I don't need that right now."

"Imani to the gorilla, Imani to the gorilla,"

I took that as my signal to wrap up our chat. I adjusted my outfit, making sure everything was in place, and tidied my hair as I moved toward the door. Just then, Jey spoke up.

"He mentioned that he'd like to see you later tonight." I paused, turning to look at him. "I'll consider it if I'm free," I replied before leaving my locker room and making my way toward the gorilla. I was uncertain about seeing him again; memories of what happened in that studio that day when he arrived flooded my mind.

The thought of it sends chills down my spine; he was overwhelming me, taking me in every possible way.

FLASHBACK - IMANI AND JIMMY AT THE STUDIO (SMUT WARNING)

Jimmy had his one leg up and one leg down combo hitting Imani's spot yanking her hair back to make her look up at him as he fucked her deeply.

"You love me mamas?" He grunted.

"Y-yes I love you and only you Jimmy...you know that..." she stammered softly gazing into his eyes.

"You gon' stop fucking runnin' from me and let me have you huh?"

Imani rolled her eyes in the back of her head biting the bottom of her lips feeling his dick gliding through her g-spot so well she couldn't even let out a simple "yes" all because he was fucking her so good.

It had her mind in a daze when she didn't respond to him he pounded her to the oblivion causing her to moan out his name loudly as his hips were slapping against her ass cheeks.

"Ouuu, fuckkkk."

"Answer me baby, you gon stop or what?"

"Yes, daddy, yes. Imma stop.." she cried out trying to press on his stomach to slow him down but he wasn't having it he let go of her hair while wrapping his hand around her neck thrusting his hips.

"You gon' stop doin what?" His hand tightened around her hips fucking her senselessly as she gasped.

"Imma stop runnin! daddyyy! Fuckk!" Her orgasm sent down a shock wave down her spine feeling her body shaking as her milky cream coated up his dick so well.

Jimmy look down at the sight of it seeing all of her milky cream all over him making that sticky sound as he pumped his dick deeper and deeper inside of her throwing his head back in pleasure. "Look at you mamas, making a mess on me. Such a good girl you're for me hm? You daddy's good girl?" He cooed at her.

"Yes, daddy. I'm your good girl..." Jimmy removed his hand around her neck as Imani collapsed on the sofa with her ass still in the air as he fucked her through it.

Talking his shit while he was in it as he was losing his himself within her as he was drilling her shit in rolling his eyes in the back of his head.

"This pussy feels so good mamas, so wet for me,"

The way his dick was sliding in and out of her and then him pushing it all the way in was a turn on for him as her moans were music to his ears.

"T-too m-much...J-Jimmy...too fucking much..."

"It's too much for you sweetheart? Well you gon' take this dick the way I want you to you hear me?" Jimmy growled while spanking her ass.

"Y-yess daddy.."

FLASHBACK OVER.

I would try to set those flashbacks aside and concentrate on what truly matters to me, which is my career. I don't want to stir up any more trouble than what's already there.

ೃ⁀➷

After my match, I stepped into the shower to wash off the sweat and adrenaline. When I made my way back to the locker room and opened the door, I was surprised to find Jimmy inside, absorbed in his phone. He glanced up at me, and I could feel my eyes widen in surprise.

I barely had a moment to turn and leave when I felt his hand gripping the back of my throat, drawing me back into the locker room. My back pressed against him, and I caught a whiff of his favorite cologne, a scent I adore, as he held me close.

He leaned in close and murmured softly to me. "why haven't you been answering my calls and text messages?"

I felt a tightness in my throat as I looked into his deep, dark eyes. "I've been really busy, Jimmy, with my new singles album and all this wrestling stuff," I explained, as he stepped closer, his hand resting around my throat.

"Yeah, we've talked about it but you could've still answered the phone whenever I called you so were you really that busy?" He said.

Our faces were just a breath apart, my heart pounding wildly as I locked my gaze onto him.

"What I say about runnin' from me?"I remained silent, deliberately looking away as I turned my head. I was unsure of what he expected from me. I sensed his hand gently cradling my chin, guiding my gaze back to his eyes. This time, he tilted his head slightly, his tongue brushing over his lower lip.

"I-I'm not runnin'..." I said stumbling on my words as Jimmy shook his head. "Nah, I don't wanna hear none of that. Why do you keep playing with me Imani?" His voice lowered several octaves, making me feel small and vulnerable, prompting a pout to form on my lips as I looked up at him.

I continued to sulk as he laughed softly, gently holding my chin and drawing me nearer to him. "Fix yo' face baby,"

"I'm not runnin from you...I'm just scared,"

"Scared of what? I told you what it was with me and you keep playing."

"And I told you that you are with Trin and it's wrong as fuck to be doing this behind her back," I continued to sulk as he laughed softly, gently holding my chin and drawing me nearer to him. "I don't want her though, I want you Imani,"

"I'm tryna heal Jonathan..." He seemed surprised when I used his real name instead of the nickname, I usually called him. That's when he leaned in and kissed me on the lips.

"Why, you keep playing Mani?"

"Jonathan...I'm not playing I told you I'm tryna heal and focus on me right now," Jimmy smacked his lips while rolling his eyes at her.

"And I told you, you can do that while you're with me let me take care of you."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes, giving him a look that said I didn't have the time for this back-and-forth about his feelings for me. As he pulled me closer, I felt his hands on my hips, our noses almost touching. He kissed me softly, holding my gaze with an intensity that was hard to ignore.

"Why you keep fighting this? Instead of letting it happen?" He asked.

"Because I made a promise to myself that I wouldn't fall in love again especially not to someone that I'm close with," I said seeing him raise an eyebrow at me.

"I'm not like him though Imani," It brought a smile to my face to hear that from him. "How can I possibly know that? Hm? How can I possibly believe that you actually want me when you're dealing with Trin? I don't need all of this extra bullshit Jonathan," I was feeling really frustrated, but I didn't want to let it show. I knew how he could react, and I didn't want to deal with the consequences.

I sensed him lifting me by my thighs, guiding me toward the sofa. He settled down first, positioning me to straddle his lap and holding me securely in place.

"You really finna have me wait?"

I nodded my head, "if you can't wait for me then you not my person Jonathan simple as that I told you I need to heal I don't know how many times I gotta repeat myself to you," I find myself repeating myself, almost like a broken record, because it seems my message isn't getting through to him at all. I really don't want to rush into something that could end badly and leave me feeling foolish.

His hands glided down my shorts, gripping my cheeks with a firm touch as I lost myself in his alluring gaze. He leaned in closer for another kiss, the sight of him biting his bottom lip adding to the intensity of the moment.

"A'ight, I'll wait then if that's what you want mamas. What'chu doing tonight?" Jimmy said.

"Head to the studio like I always do why?"

"I'm tryna see what my best friend music sounds like in this album of hers," I couldn't help but laugh at him; he thinks he's being clever, but I have to admit, he does have a way with words that makes him quite charming.

"Well you can pull up if you want to, I'll leave the door unlock for you," I said.

"Oh well how nice of you sweetheart, but aight then."

ೃ⁀➷

I was at the studio, just like I usually am, focused on my singles album and typing up some lyrics on my iPad. Suddenly, I heard the door open and there stood Jimmy, the man of the hour, with bags in his hands. It was such a thoughtful surprise—how did he know I was feeling hungry?

He smiled at me as he set the bags down on the empty table. I was so absorbed in my music that I didn't notice him at first. Then, he gently pushed my hair aside and planted a soft kiss on my neck, which made me turn my head to see him standing there.

"Hey, pretty baby. What'chu working on," he asked.

"I'm just typing up some lyrics right now, you bought food?" He gave a nod as he passed me a drink along with the bag containing my food, all the while keeping his attention on my work.

I noticed him settling into the sofa, making himself comfortable in the room. As I removed my headphones and stepped into the booth with my iPad, I could feel Jimmy's gaze on me.

As the guitar began to play softly in the background, I encouraged him to press the button. I put my headphones back on, leaving one ear uncovered so I could hear my voice as I sang the opening lyric.

Spendin' all my nights alone, waitin' for you to call me You're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep

Jimmy took a seat in the chair I had just vacated, watching me perform a song and rap that he hadn't heard in years, not since our teenage days.

Tell me what I'm waitin' for, tell me what I'm waitin' for I know it's hard but we need each other Know it's hard but we need each other

I move mountains on my own, don't need nobody help Changed your mind when I changed my life, better start believin' in myself

And we all out lookin' for, lookin' for God so we never see it in ourself

Shit, divine intervention move in stealth It's hard to tell what the prayer compelled

I caught Jimmy's gaze as I rapped, noticing how he was really feeling the rhythm, which made me smile back at him.

You can find me dancin' in between the raindrops Tryna find a way to make the pain stop Overtime, on the graveyard

Got a nigga feeling brainwashed My instability's trademark Copy-written in all my decisions

This is not supposed to be a way of livin' Turned my temple down into a prison, shit

The lyrics resonated with me on a deeper level, especially when I noticed Jimmy gesturing for me to join him. As I removed my headphones and stepped out of the booth, the music still filled the air around us.

He stood tall, his hands gently gripping my waist, drawing me nearer until our faces were just inches apart, our noses brushing against each other.

"You're so talented, you know that mamas?" He said as I nodded my head while looking at him innocently.

"I know I am, what else can I not do?" I said confidently seeing a cocky smile on his face. "I don't know you tell me?"

I can't help but roll my eyes and chuckle as we continue to gaze at each other. Am I really going to be foolish enough to let this man ensnare me like this?

Was I really going to lower my defenses, even for a moment, for this man? Especially when he's involved with someone else at the moment? I've always felt that something was off from the very start, especially after that kiss we shared during the family outing.

I'm wondering if being with him during my healing process is going to be effective. I initially wanted to go through this alone and concentrate on myself, but having Jimmy around makes it difficult for me to focus. It feels like my mind just won't let me do that.

Spendin' all my nights alone, waitin' for you to call me You're the only one I want by my side when I fall asleep

Tell me what I'm waitin' for, tell me what I'm waitin' for I know it's hard but we need each other Know it's hard but we need each other

"You gon keep fighting this? Or let me love you correctly?"

"Jonathan..." I whined.

"Nah, how long you gon keep me waiting mamas? I understand you need to heal and shit but I can help you with that,"

Yeah, back on Vincent with the braces on Used to slide out the back without the neighbors knowin'

I wasn't sure how long I would keep him waiting to come in. I just needed a little more time; I wanted to be certain that I was truly ready.

"Jonathan, please don't pressure me about this."

Pose for the picture with the pearly whites Dead lens zoomin' in, catchin' all my strikes Used to trade Jordan for some molly And she gave me all I need for the night, forties suffice

"I'm not, I just want to know how long you gon keep me waiting for you just to let me love you correctly baby that's all." Jimmy said.

Morally alright, but I need some advice And I know that I'm actin' foolish

Chris would pick me up around noon-ish Half a blunt, yeah, we coolin' Twist it up, puttin' on OutKast Hunnid, Texas heat, and yeah, we cruisin'

I could tell he was truly sincere about this, especially considering my current situation and what I'm experiencing. I felt it was important to provide him with a response.

"Give me three weeks is that fine with you? I need time Jimmy, what I went through with him I wouldn't wish that on nobody," I said.

"A'ight, three weeks it is then. And no runnin' this time around you hear me? I want to love you correctly mamas," His captivating gaze had a way of stirring something within me each time he looked down at me.

Jimmy pressed his lips against mine, and without hesitation, I found myself wrapping my arms around his neck. This time, I didn't want to resist. The kiss was passionate and lingering as he lifted me by my thighs and carried me to the sofa.

But when I love you right, I love you right All by yourself

As he positioned himself between my legs, I wrapped them around his waist, and our lips remained locked together. The way he kissed me was unlike anything I had ever experienced before.

But I'll make it bright, baby, I want you to know I'ma be there for you, I'ma make you see that I want you, I want you

The lyrics resonated with me on a deeper level, reflecting the connection that Jimmy and I share at this moment. It made me question whether I truly wanted to pursue this with him. Did I genuinely want him in my life?

Deep within my heart and soul, I truly yearned to share this moment with him. As Jimmy pulled away from the kiss, he gazed down at me.

"You, gon let me do this? Or you gon keep fighting me?" He asked.

I gently cupped his cheeks with my small hands and shook my head.

"I don't wanna keep fighting you...I just want you here with me." I said softly.

"Then lemme' have you fuck the three weeks I want you now and forever,"

I leaned in closer, pressing my lips against his as he wrapped his arms around my waist, our bodies coming together and sharing the warmth that enveloped us.

Could I let him in?

FRIENDS

A/n: phew the tension between the two is very strong and high but after those three weeks are up do you think Imani will let her heart let him in or will she run away like always or will her best friend tell her that she should let new things come into her life?

But I hope yall enjoy this chapter lmk in the comments below.

STAY UCEY.

#black fanfic writer #black oc #black writers #wwelove #black reader #wwe fanfiction #jimmy x black oc #jimmy uso smut #jimmy uso fanfiction #jimmy uso #Spotify

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