#INSTEAD OF JUST MAKING ME A STRANGER IN THE CORNER ON HER PHONE BC HER EX ABANDONED HER TO GO PLAY VIDEO GAMES IN

[tyrian-sexual]

be me letting a conversation get back into my brain like six months later

[stcnefruit]

— open starter.

status - open to all, but pls read my rules and mobile about (pinned post) first before interacting. don't like my starters. muse - vasti inaiê souza gonçalves, sculptor, potter and printmaker. bisexual, uses she/her pronouns. human, thirty. wanted opposites (in order of priority) - m/nb/f, 30+. mocs (muns/muses of color) preferred. wanted connections - literal strangers, an ex, fellow artist, someone they haven't seen since sixth grade, as long as they're a little richer than vasti is (and not related) go literally batsh*t plot - they're on their way to personally deliver one of their commissions but they haven't slept well in over 48 hours (they've slept enough to not get pulled over, they can drive) and really should have hired a truck or sent it through the post but hey they've done it before and the client is right across town (or city, cough) so it shouldn't be too bad right? they'll make it except you just kind of yk. rear-ended them at the stoplight and their sh*t's in the trunk bc it couldn't fit in the back seat and now you might have just f*cked sh*t up if that packing wrap isn't as good as it's marketed to be. potential meet cute with insurance problems and career threatening happenings basically, what could be better than that

— she hears it before she feels it, the way the body of the car lurches underneath her at the street corner. the rattling in the back is too loud for her to ignore, and she's already doing inventory on what she has with her. registration papers, house keys, studio keys, that flat tire kit she's never had to use in her life and hopes she won't have to now, the delivery— oh God, fuck, the delivery. in the trunk. surrounded by a shit ton of bubble wrap and cling film and whatever the fuck else she wrapped it in at 3am two days ago and placed it in its box, but last she checked no flat tire makes that kind of sound like the kind where there's a bit too much metal and you know in your gut you'll need to call your insurance company. both of them, in her case, if the vehicle in her rearview mirror is giving anything to go by. que se lixe isso, this is not a good day. her blood pressure was not made for this. neither was her neck, for that matter, but she doubts there was enough speed behind the impact to cause any whiplash worth worrying about. she unlocks her phone as she steps out, car door slamming closed behind her, insurance already on speed dial. as a precaution she takes a few photos of the other car's license plate, now neatly tucked (along with the front bumper) just barely under her chassis—she is not paying for this shit if she doesn't have to, especially if the driver in question has enough money to be driving a car like that right into her sedan and especially if they might have just jeopardized her commission. three months, hundreds of hours, possibly damaged in her trunk because it's the one day she didn't have her morning coffee and decided to put it there instead of the backseat, bubble wrap or no bubble wrap. yeah, she'll milk every last penny from that payout while she's at it. might as well be pissed for a reason. 'hey,' she says, coming up to the window as it rolls down, 'i'm sorry, this is going to sound so completely fucking obvious and i know this and you know this but i think you just rear-ended me? and there's something in my trunk that i really need to get out and check on before this day goes any further to shit than it already has so if you could please try and back the fuck up, it would be much appreciated. juro o túmulo da minha mãe.' her mother is alive, thank you very much, but it's not like they need to know that in english or portuguese. // @indiestarter

[kaiwritesgood]

“A Neurodivergent Night Out”

           “I like the outfit,” my boyfriend looked me up and down. I was wearing a holiday sweater with a deer on it, the green cargo pants he picked out with the cuffs folded up, and blacked-out vans with a green LAND ROVER beanie. He placed two five-dollar bills in my hand, “I just wanna play pinball,” I planned, and he nodded, “then I’m coming right back.”

           Recently, a friend sent me a last-minute invite to PINS, the bar, and arcade that replaced Claddagh in the Southside Flats, and after motivating myself and peeling my body off the couch, I got dressed. I smoked before I left to enhance my experience but once I arrived, I would come face to face with the scowling, bald bouncer who would toss out my plastic water bottle during the routine search and seizure of my bag only to tell me he had no memory of such event when I tried to retrieve it.

           “You can’t bring bottled drinks in,” he said it like I should have known, and handed a Vizzy and a White Claw to the guy behind him who then hid them behind the counter. Later, I’d have to let my friend know that the bald bouncer confiscated the drinks. I had TSA flashbacks.

           It was St. Patrick’s Day Weekend – my first mistake.

           The first floor was chaotic - loud, bright, and overstimulating, so was the second. But I had a mission: to find my friend. So I squeezed through crowds of yelling people, liquor splashing around in their unopened drinks, cut through bar lines, slithered around corners, got in the elevator, got off the elevator, walked up the steps then down them and up again, and when I felt ready to give up I came face to face with the friend who invited me as she left the stall I was about to enter.

           “This is what you were doing?” I showed her the unanswered texts on my phone.

           “Sorry,” she showed me this massive text message, “I was just reading this note from one of my student’s parents that made me bawl,” I looked past it, instead I looked at her.            She and her boyfriend waited for drinks at the bar and like Moses, I parted the Red Sea to get through to the change machine. It didn’t matter though because the Addams Family pinball machine stole my dollar. No pinball. I got hot. I felt a wave of frustration surface. And in the spirit of the holiday, I made my Irish exit.

           These places are packed, shoulder to shoulder, wall to wall, bodies are sewn together, people are talking into each other’s mouths, and getting through means shrinking yourself by pulling your chest in, holding your breath, and repeating “excuse me” at varying volumes. People bring their roommates, their roommates’ friends, their coworkers, their neighbors, their exes, their friends, their friends’ exes, partners, their partners’ partners, husbands, wives, and even dogs. Yes, dogs.

           I looked down at my phone, “a dog shit on the steps,” popped up. I sat in my car after my anxiety snowballed into a panic attack. Another text, “Why did the owner keep walking?”

           After ten minutes I left Southside’s infamous PINS. I texted them from the car, “this is stressful lowkey,” I hit send and followed it up with, “sorry, that was rude. It was making me anxious.” The combination of the lights, the noise, and the people had successfully overstimulated my brain, “that place made me feel dizzy,” I sent, and she replied, “omg I felt so bad bc u seemed so stressed.”

           As I stuck my key into the ignition and sucked up my tears on the drive home, I wondered how much Klonopin it would take for me to be able to attend an event like that. And I didn’t even get to play any pinball.

           On the five-minute long drive home I kept thinking, I used to be good at this. I used to go out and drink and dance with strangers, I used to trek on foot to Cruze (RIP) in the Strip and ride in random cars, I used to go to work hungover, I used to smuggle alcohol into the Point Park dorms, I used to hotbox their bathrooms, and I used to be dragged back to my dorm after a victorious night. I used to let strangers in my home, I used to go to strangers’ homes, I used to live.

           And at some point, in the last few years, I stopped “living”.

           First Citalopram, then Sertraline then Venlafaxine then Hydroxyzine then Lorazepam then Clonazepam. They all gave me a chance. In the world of psychiatric medicine, I was absolutely ran-through. But nothing cleared my mind like psilocybin.

           I wanted to go out again, I told myself, I will go out again. But I just needed a way to make my brain want to do it. And this would be the way.

           The first time I did mushrooms, I felt fine. The second time I did mushrooms, I fell to my knees at the face of God – not literally but I did feel reborn. I took the most I ever had taken at a May Day festival, in the company of white hippies. I thought about my dad, who had experienced a religious resurgence, after doing PCP in the ‘90s. I wondered if he’d also been on the spectrum and just didn’t know it.

           Being on the spectrum means discovering a way to exist in a world that does little to accommodate you. The spectrum is vast and when I picture it in my brain, I see an outstretched spiral where the colors fade and bleed into one another. But within that spiral lives fear, confusion, disorder, and loneliness.            I often hear neurotypicals gawk at autistic people like children, “autism is beautiful”, “they’re so cute.” They think we see the world Rain Man-style. Many of them are the Tom Cruise to somebody’s Dustin Hoffman – absurdly impatient, annoyed, and impressed all at the same time. But what Tom Cruises’ character can’t see is all the inner turmoil that Dustin Hoffman’s is experiencing, the general confusion of being a sentient human being.            The only talent I share with Rain-Man is speed-reading, other than that, that movie is just that – a movie. Autism’s literally a spectrum disorder [1], and a version of Rain-Man likely exists, but I am not one of them.

             Earlier this week, I’d message a friend on Instagram whom I’d met online but we seldom hung out offline. Once we finally met up for the first time, it felt like I had known them awhile, a natural friendship. I’d come to know this person as Marlene.

             Marlene and I had the commonality of being two black girls in Pittsburgh with very little black friends – so sticking together was imperative.

             “Wyd this weekend?” I sent, then followed up with, “I need someone to go barhopping/club-hopping with to finish my story.” Then I paused, thought about what I would say next then sent it, “we can do it on shrooms.”

           “Let’s do it!!” Double exclamation points, this was a go.

           “We have to have a very interesting night,” I sent, “so I have good shit to turn into my prof. I’m thinking we def do karaoke.”

             Friday, 10:00am:

             “Ayooo,” Marlene texted first, “wanna meet at Blue Moon or my place first tonight?”            “Probably your place first bc I could park there easier.” Send. “We could do [mushroom emoji] and then split an Uber.”            “8:30 ok?” She asked after I let her know I was off at 6.            “I must eat my dinner first so that’s perfect.” Send. I eat dinner every night at the same time.

             7:00pm

                       I talk to the back of my boyfriend’s head as he clicks away on the computer, “I’m going out to Blue Moon with my friend, Marlene in a few.” He nodded, “it’s the gay bar” I explained, “we’re gonna do mushrooms.”            “Why?”            “Because we want to.”            He’s worried. I try to keep it casual, play it cool. I try to act like he has not seen the last few weeks of panic attacks and meltdowns, like we didn’t just spend 12 hours in the hospital two weeks ago, like he hasn’t ever had to leave work early because I’ve been inconsolable.            “You’re a handful,” he told me once, “but I do it because I love you.” And “love” as in the verb.            A few weeks ago, I submerged myself in pink bathwater while I read Donald Antrim’s memoir One Friday in April, he writes:            “We are burdens to our caretakers; we know this, no matter what you say to soothe us, no matter that you love us.” [2] This truth is something that I’ve yet to be able to face.

             I am meticulously planning every detail before I get ready.

           Must sit down and eat my French fries before I can leave. I’ve eaten French fries every day for the past four years. Can’t leave till I clear the plate. If I get hungry when I’m out I get anxious because there’s little to no chance of me being able to access “safe food”[3] (Goldfish lives in my bag for this reason).

             I type Marlene’s address into Google Maps (and Apple Maps to compare routes) even though I’ve been there twice, I check the street view - nothing has changed. Thank God. I plan where I am going to park. I repeat the plan, vocalizing the steps that I’m taking as I get ready - I will wear this pair of pants and this shirt with these shoes and bring this bag and pack these items. Just like the PINS bouncer, I am taking careful inventory of the bag’s contents but unlike him, I am repeating them; phone, wallet, keys, headphones, vape pen, sunglasses, weed gummies. Phone, wallet, keys, headphones, vape pen, sunglasses, weed gummies. Pen is in the zipped compartment on the right side of the bag, buried beneath the Ziploc with the gummies, my keys are wrapped around my wrist because I am about to get in the car and drive off, my phone is in my pocket not my bag but it’s likely I’ll put it in my bag at some point and the night and –.            Before walking out the door, I open the bag and look through it, close it, open it, look through it again. Unzip and rezip and unzip and rezip. I am aware I am being neurotic.            Neuroticism, “a ‘Big Five’ personality trait, has been associated with sub-clinical traits of both autism spectrum disorder (ASD) and attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD).”[4]

           WebMD is not very helpful here. “Neurotic” is when you’re afflicted by “neurosis”, the webpage tells me. I scroll on.            “Neurotic” is a term used to “describe mental, emotional, or physical reactions that are drastic and irrational. At its root, a neurotic behavior is an automatic, unconscious effort to manage deep anxiety.”[5]            At our last session, I told my therapist that I “felt like I was stuck in a permanent state of overstimulation” that had gotten so bad I went weeks without watching TV and had very much limited my internet usage (I avoided TikTok at all costs, YouTube was safer, no autoplay). After the day ended, I spent every night alone in the spare room (affectionately known as the “autism room”) and every night I would not allow myself to leave until I fell asleep. And that couldn’t be done until I swallowed 0.5mg of Clonazepam and 0.25mg of Hydroxyzine and stared at the rainbow bubbles on my ceiling coming from a light projector marketed toward children and a 4K YouTube livestream of an aquarium displaying fish swim across my iMac’s monitor. Probably uploaded by a random user in a different country who idealized aquatic life but ended up creating a secret elixir to put babies to sleep across the world. A hero to tired parents, fussy infants, and adults on the spectrum.

           I liked Blue Moon; I trusted Blue Moon. Gay bars had a different atmosphere than straight ones – they prioritized safety, and making you feel safe. The LGBQT+ community (sometimes affectionately called the “girls and gays”) don’t have the luxury of neglecting safety – in these spaces, safety is so imperative that they took the locks off the bathroom doors so no one could (successfully) overdose. I realized this when I went for a pee break – the fastest one I’ve ever taken – as I waited for that door to swing open.            “Safety is so much about perception,” Allison Harnden told me over Zoom a few weeks ago. She would know, she’s Pittsburgh’s Nighttime Economy Manager. When we talked (I had an entirely different plan for this story), I told her that I wondered what everything would look like if her job didn’t exist.            “Some of it [safety] is institutionalized and you know, maybe we need more awareness about what we are doing so that people feel safer.”            Safer, the word echoed against the walls of my brain. Safety. What did it mean to feel safe? And how’s feeling safe different from being safe? And why couldn’t my brain tell the difference?                        The safest I’d ever felt was in hospitals. And I hate admitting that to myself, knowing people die there, and people go into debt there, and people experience traumas there, and malpractice and racism exist, and I am a likely candidate for both.

           The last night I spent at Western Psych, the only item I was allowed was a book (no hardcovers) from my bag and the only book I had was All the Frequent Troubles of Our Days by Rebecca Donner, and although I related heavily to the title, I felt like I should put the book down, considering how strong the Ativan giggles came on.

            “It’s a spectrum,” I announced, presenting a hastily made PowerPoint on autism to my boyfriend, “I believe this leads to those.” I shared my findings with my therapist, and she agreed.[6] [7]

             I drew up a diagram in which a giant circle labeled AUTISM branched off into smaller circles, one labeled GENERALIZED ANXIETY DISORDER and the other DEPRESSION.

           Antrim also talks about how his anxiety over mundane tasks isolated him, and how he fantasized about leaving the hospital but didn’t know what came after it – and that paralyzed him.            “Dining out, driving a car, making coffee – these things were not possible. They were unsafe. My apartment was unsafe. The subway was unsafe. The street was unsafe. Back in the spring, in April, I’d left the Brooklyn hospital and passed in an instant from shelter to exposure. On one side of the steel door, I’d felt competent, ready to resume my life. On the other side of the door, I was frightened and lost.” [8]

                       What waited on the other side of my door that was so frightening to me? And why couldn’t I open it?

 8:00pm            She told me 8:30, but it’s likely I’ll be there around 9. That wasn’t the plan. I ignore my brain trying to give me a reason to panic. But it’s early, and everything’s packed, I took inventory several times. Can’t back out now.            I say bye to my boyfriend several times, every time I come back upstairs to make sure I have everything, I say bye again. I say “love you” in case I die at the Blue Moon.

 8:45-50pm…            The car seems to be driving itself. I have less than a quarter tank, but I can’t stop because it’s nighttime and I’m a girl and that wasn’t the plan anyways.            I arrive and like the last two times, I parked too far. I can’t see the street signs well in the dark, but somehow, I trek up the pathway toward Marlene’s door, awkwardly greeting a guy taking his dog to the bathroom. She buzzes me in, and I grab the door handle too soon, so she has to buzz me in again. I’m an annoyance, a burden.            After setting my things down on her dining table, I immediately pick up one of the three cats roaming the apartment. Marlene’s got her “getting-ready playlist” blaring through the TV. I enjoyed her free spirit.            We sat on the couch and split a piece of mushroom-infused chocolate. I hate chocolate. But I shoved it down, and we waited.

 9:30pm

             The first Uber arrives – a gray SUV. Marlene gets in on the side facing traffic. She is fearless. I scolded her about how that’s dangerous and she should get in on the side facing the sidewalk.            Our driver sang passionately, off key, to a breakup song called Gassed by an artist I’d never heard of called WESLEE – I think he really connected with it. It was quiet in the Uber for most of the ride, so I listened to him sing, even if it was awful.

“I choose to walk this lonely road Change the flow ‘Cause I need the space to grow

Hope you’d know

I will find my way back home”

           “Thank you so much,” Marlene and I repeated in sync when he dropped us off in on Butler Street in front of Blue Moon. We get in by only by the skin of our teeth – the doorman turned us away at first, “we’re full,” but once two people exited, we slid through. Fire code, I thought. I remembered more of my conversation with Allison, and when she talked about how buildings and venues must pass an array of inspections and trainings to have the luxury of hosting such a sacred space as this.            We walk in and head straight for the bar. Neither of us drink.            “Can I get a fucking water?” Marlene yelled over the music, “I just want a fucking water.” And I wanted a sprite. And time was becoming distorted. “I got this,” I told Marlene, “I’m gonna make this mine.”            And when the bartender gallivanted over to us, I proudly spoke up, “could we get one water and one sprite please? Thank you so much.” I smile. I look at Marlene, “I did it, dude.”            While we waited, I couldn’t stop myself from looking around the bar, for perceived threats or anticipated problems. Or a place to sit until karaoke started.            “There’s an empty table,” I whispered, “go snag it!” Marlene demanded, and I did.

           And I sat at that empty table and watched people socialize and play pool and drink and be gay, in every sense. I smiled at the Jello-Shot Man who wore nothing but leather garter belts and was always so nice, he smiled back. There’s that “wrong” feeling – being in a bar and not drinking, but alcohol is a fad that’s fading fast (at least in my friend group), and the kids like psychedelics these days. And benzodiazepines don’t mix well with alcohol.

           I was elated to receive a text from Jess, my best friend, who lived up the street and wanted to make it down in time to see our performance.            In the front of house, people waited for drinks and for karaoke to start – any minute now. In the back, they played pool and some nameless buddy comedy played on an old TV anchored to a corner (it still had the back attached to it). This is where people come to socialize, I thought, it’s normal. I snuck off into the bathroom to hit my pen, the THC mixing with the psylocibin in my brain.

           “I got you a song request slip,” Marlene handed me a tiny white paper slip with a space for my name, a song, and an artist. I knew I had to do this.            And I’d put on the biggest mask[9] – I’d play neurotypical for the night. I’m a local, who frequently visits bars around town, I know people, I’ve been here before, I’m not new to this, I’m a professional.            And I would begin to rehearse and model the behaviors around me, mimic their tone, their sayings, and their stances.

 10:00pm (maybe?)

           The bartender changed the TV’s input – it now displayed a graphic with the title THE EDDIEOKE SHOW. We never did find out who Eddie was.

           We checked the karaoke queue and “Kat” was number four, Marlene number five. I didn’t know who Kat was.            “Is ‘Kat’ supposed to be ‘Kai’?”            And while we tried to figure out who Kat was, I felt a familiar pair of arms grasp me from behind – Jess! Thank God. Being with friends was a natural remedy. And now I had two with me. A feeling of relief consumed me.

           “Kat!?” The DJ would yell into the mic, “where’s Kat at?” I looked around to see if Kat would take the stage, “Kat’s got stage fright,” but she didn’t. So, Marlene, Jess and I approached the DJ booth.            I leaned over the edge, “I think I’m ‘Kat.’”            He squinted.            “It says ‘Kai’. You said my name wrong.”

           Marlene and I took the stage, she agreed to be my backup singer. “You do the girl parts,” I delegated, “and I’ll do the boy parts.”

             A micro dose is just that, I thought, micro. I can do this.

           And in this club full of (mostly) Caucasian gay males, after a night of showtunes and ballads, and Alanis Morrisette, an instrumental version of Notorious B.I.G.’s Mo’ Money, Mo’ Problems, blared through the speakers. New mission unlocked: keep up with the lyrics on screen.

           I walked up to the mic stand, it towered over me at 5 feet, but once I took the mic off the stand and pushed it to the side, something came over me. And it wasn’t the usual terror that visited me every day.

           “Now, who’s hot, who’s not?            Tell me who rock, who sell out in the stores?            You tell me who flopped, who copped the blue drop?            Whose jewels got rocks?            Who’s mostly Dolce down to the tube sock?”

             We caught the attention of a Black security guard – likely the only other Black person in the club. He sported a hoodie with the words IT’S A PHILLY THANG plastered across in some bulbous bubble letters. He joined us on stage and helped us finish the song because I ran out of breath butchering it.

           Jess was right in front of the stage, filming us like Amy Poehler and her camcorder in Mean Girls.

           At the end of our performance, Marlene would grab the mic and yell, “we’re on shrooms” and I would collapse in a fit of laughter. 10:30-11pm

           The night was still young (-ish, nobody had the right time). I would finally play Pinball at a place called Mixtape, and none of the machines stole anything from me. All night I had catastrophized, prepared for things to go wrong, and pretended like I didn’t butcher arguably Notorious’ most famous song.

           While waiting for our final Uber, we watched a couple storm out of Mixtape, the girl yelling after the boy, “why are you walking away right now?” We all stopped talking so we could figure out the situation, immediately we sided with the girl. He stormed off, hands stuffed in his pockets, while she continued yelling, “you left me to pay your fucking tab!” That’s when he grabbed her and pleaded, “let’s not argue out here – outside”, probably because he noticed three strangers watching.            And in the Uber, I thought about them, and my boyfriend and me. And I wasn’t happy per-se, just relieved. Our situation was not one of my own wrongdoings, just a result of my brain being wired differently. And he’d never treat me like that, even when my illness (“disorder”, whatever) tries to separate us. Maybe I am not the burden I once thought I was.            

             “I remember that Friday in April, that day on the roof, that time, that life, those friends, the months and years, that eternity. What will you remember? What will you write in your letter to a friend you can trust? And were you to write and send that letter, do you think that it could change the world?” [10]            

    [1] Lord, C., Brugha, T.S., Charman, T. et al. Autism spectrum disorder. Nat Rev Dis Primers 6, 5 (2020).

[2] Antrim, Donald | One Friday in April (pg. 92) (2021)

[3] Dr. Shea, Elizabeth | eating disorder or disordered eating? Eating Patterns in autism | National Autistic Society (2016)

[4] Park, Shin-Ho et al. “Neuroticism and the Overlap Between Autistic and ADHD Traits: Findings From a Population Sample of Young Adult Australian Twins.” Twin research and human genetics: the official journal of the International Society for Twin Studies vol. 20,4 (2017)

[5] Key, Powell, Alyson, Bhandari, Smitha, MD | WebMD What is Neurotic Behavior? (2021)

[6] DeFilippis M. Depression in Children and Adolescents with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Children (Basel). 2018 Aug 

[7] Zaboski BA, Storch EA. Comorbid autism spectrum disorder and anxiety disorders: a brief review. Future Neurol. 2018 Feb

[8] Antrim, Donald | One Friday in April (pg. 64) (2021)

[9] Stanborough, Joy, Rebecca, Stevenson, Julia | Autism Masking: To Blend or Not to Blend – Healthline (2022)

[10] Antrim, Donald | One Friday in April (pg. 135) (2021)

[sneezefiction]

manager reader getting hit on

Tsukishima, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Ushijima x Reader - Manager Reader Headcanons

@belli-jelly‘s request: “May I req hcs for tsukki, oikawa, iwaizumi, & ushi wherein their manager!s/o during qualifiers, instead of kiyoko on s2, got hit on by terushima when their s/o went back the gym to get smth that the team left behind/forgot. What would be their reactions?? You can change things up if this is too specific hehe.”

a/n: okay so i used Terushima (our lovable f-boy) in Tsukki’s hc, but changed it up for the rest of them. i also made it so that you weren’t their s/o yet, but there are def feelings involved! hope this is ok!!

warnings: harassment, slight language

total wc: 1300

---

Tsukishima:

the Karasuno boys were getting restless waiting outside for their beloved manager by the bus

and it’s not that Tsukki was super worried… but you’d been missing for a little while now

you weren’t answering his phone calls and Tsukki had a sneaking suspicion that something was wrong

“What’d you do this time, y/n…” he sighs under his breath, making his way back to the gym

he starts his search where he last spotted you, but there’s nobody there

Tsukishima is slightly concerned now, listening out for any voices or noises in case it had anything to do with you

when he reaches the hallway, he recognizes the echo of your voice

“-not interested and I need to find my team, sorry!” your nervous response directed at a bleach-blonde volleyball player… with piercings?

“Come onnn, babe. I just want your number!” Terushima’s hand his now by your head, your back pushed up against the wall

“Oye, back off, asshole.” Tsukki’s voice rings out, still walking his way over to you

Teru only briefly glances at him then immediately turns his attention back to you, stepping closer

you have a panicked look on your face and for the first time in a while, Tsukishima’s chest tightens in empathy which morphs into a muted fury

“I said get off of her.” Tsukki’s hand is on Terushima’s shoulder now, pushing him away from you

“Jeez, okay bro.” Teru responds with a smirk, throwing his hands up, “I was leaving now, anyway.” 

as soon as he’s gone you can finally breathe again

Tsukki turns to ask if you’re okay, but before he gets a word out, your arms are around his back

“Thank you, Tsukki. I’m so sorry you had to see that.”

the shock of your touch fades a little and he slowly wraps his arms around you, a barely noticeable flush on his face

“Stop going off on your own, stupid… and don’t be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Oikawa:

it was 30 minutes into practice at the Seijoh school gym and you were a no show

which is incredibly unusual considering you usually arrived before the rest of the team (besides maybe Oikawa, who’s already warmed up)

Oikawa checks with the entire team, asking them if they’d noticed you on their way inside or if you’d said anything about missing practice, but no one has seen or heard from you

luckily, Oikawa keeps tabs on his team, which includes you since you’re their manager (and he kinda-sorta likes you a lot)

so he takes a short break, quickly making his way to your usual hangout spots and checking around corners

it takes him a moment to soak it in, but there are two guys cornering you near your locker

he knows, in most cases, you can handle things by yourself… but this feels so wrong

you’re clearly uncomfortable, uninterested… and once he catches you eye, he can tell you’re scared

before he knows it, Oikawa has already grabbed one of them by the shirt and shoved them away from you

“What the hell is your problem??” he shouts, “Get away from her.”

Oikawa is literally seething at this point, hand gripping even tighter on the boys shirt, threatening to tear the fabric

his friend recognizes Oikawa and knows that the whole school would find out about this if they didn’t leave soon

so they both take off down the halls

he turns around, grasping your hands firmly

“Are you okay, y/n? Are you hurt?”

“I... I’ll be okay.” but he feels you shaking

“Let’s just get out of here then. I’m gonna take you out for a few to get some fresh air if you’re okay with that?” he gently tugs you toward him

“...Yeah. Please.”

this will be the first time he’s missed a practice in years (but he’ll make up for it later in the week)

and right now, his main priority is you. making sure you’re okay and that you can recover peacefully... preferably with an ice cream cone or a cold drink in hand

Iwaizumi:

you and Iwa have shared several classes together over the years and happened to sit next to each other for most of them

so it really isn’t a surprise that y’all have gotten pretty close

he’s actually the reason you became the Seijoh manager in the first place since he’d been complaining to you about how unorganized things were getting on the team without one

unfortunately, being the manager doesn’t just revolve around caring for individual teammates… it also means you have to keep up with their dirty laundry sorry hun

Iwa, since he did drag you into this mess, normally offers to help take the jerseys and clothing  to the laundromat with you

you usually refuse his offer, but for some reason, you let him join you this time around

you and Iwa bring in the first batch of clothing, greeting the laundromat owner, and get everything started

“I’ll head out to the car for the next basket, Iwa!” you tap his shoulder, letting him know where you’re going

“Okay, I’ll be here. Lemme know if you need help.”

he waits a while, but when you don’t return Iwaizumi lets a slight panic set in, hurrying outside to check on you

“Y/n are y-” he stops talking when he notices an absolute sleezebag hitting on you in the parking lot

the stranger is reaching out to grab your arm, but not before a fist collides with the man’s face

Iwaizumi knocks the man to the ground. his fist curl back, fingers digging into his palms, ready to swing at him again

“Get your filthy hands away from her.” he growls out

this sends the creep running, shock setting into your body

and you look over to notice just how tense Iwaizumi’s body is

you gently grasp his wrist with your shaking hands

“You shouldn’t have to come out here by yourself, y/n. I’m coming with you next time.” he says, and you notice a flash of guilt in his eyes as he turns toward you

you just pull him into a hug, releasing your own fear and calming the both of you down

Ushijima:

all of Shiratorizawa’s volleyball team is indebted to you

you’ve traveled with them to every single game, you’ve dealt with so many strange players, and above all, you’ve brought them together, completing their team

so it’s no wonder they hang out with you outside of their volleyball obligations, bc fr they all love you so much and you bring them some much needed normalcy

when you suggest heading to the beach for a day trip, they’re all on board. even Ushijima

you and Ushi usually end up sitting together on the way to any practice games or tournaments so you can plan and prepare together

so you both naturally sit next to each other… but it’s super casual and the conversation is actually fun and chill. relaxed Ushijima is such a nice change of pace

when you all arrive, everyone splits separate ways to get changed

but as you leave the changing room, all cute and beach ready, there’s a guy leaning near the door, outside

“Hey sweetheart, you need some help with that?” he smirks pointing at the sunscreen in your hand

“Uh… no thanks.” you say, starting to squirm under his stare

you attempt to walk away, but he just follows you, so you move faster

Ushijima spots you, noticing that your movements are a bit frantic, so he approaches you

as Ushi finally reaches you, the man runs into him and stumbles backward into the sand, Ushjima’s frame blocking him from you entirely

“Y/n, is he bothering you?” his eyebrows furrowing, looking at you with a tinge of concern

“Because… he really shouldn’t be.” A stone-cold glare overtaking his features

“No, I’m just leaving actually.” The man dusts the sand off his legs and walks away, annoyance (and fear) etched onto his face

you turn to the tall, incredibly attractive ace and thank him profusely, apologizing for the situation

“You’re safe with me, y/n. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

[yamalegacy]

genre: n/sfw, filthy filthy smut with a semblance of plot (this is me pretending it’s not just pure smut so i added some context tbh)

pairing(s): kayama nemuri (r-rated hero: midnight) x reader

cw: sub!reader, (technically gn) afab!reader, semi-public sex, desk sex (midnight bends you over her desk bc i said so), mommy!midnight, finger sucking, reader is struggling with anxiety if you “squint”, written with a 8/9-year age gap in mind (i’m shameless) but it’s not explicit

word count: a lot tbh 3.2k+

⚠️ MDNI not so casual reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

U.A. High School felt like an uncharted territory, some sort of a forbidden land that you shouldn't step into, and yet, here you are, standing just a few feet away from the enormous, heavy doors. The infamous U.A. Barrier that keeps those who don't belong in the school away — and to prove it, there is a line of journalists waiting outside. You aren't one of them, though, you aren't like them. Your Special Entry Permission ID is clutched tightly in your hand as you try to gather the courage to get through the small crowd of journalists.

Finally, you step forward, your breath catching in your throat as you approach the Barrier. You feel like even with your special permission, it won't open, leaving stranded out there. You've had the ID (courtesy of your girlfriend) for nearly three weeks now and never once dared to use it.

As the Barrier unfolds in front of your eyes, you can hear gasps of surprise behind you, and whispers of rumors making their way to your ears of full of spite. Jealousy. It's just jealousy, you tell yourself. You aren't doing anything wrong. Those people don't even know who you are, so it's nothing personal, really. But still, you feel your heart sink in your chest and your face burn at the sudden excessive amount of attention on you. Relief washes over you when the Barrier closes again behind you, shielding you from prying eyes and uncomfortable gossiping.

You take your phone out of the back pocket of your pants. 15:07. Nemuri's last class of the day is almost over. You breathe deeply as you struggle to remember what she told you about the layout of the school — she should be in the main building, with class 3-A (you don't remember her whole schedule, of course, but there's details that you just can't seem to be able to forget).

"You probably shouldn't be around here unaccompanied."

The voice startles you, and when you turn around to look at who addressed you, you are faced with a wall. A tall wall of muscles in a red costume. You look up and find an all too intense pair of red eyes staring at you.

Vlad King. Blood Hero: Vlad King is standing in front of you, staring at you, making you very small and definitely even more out of place than you already felt. Too intense. But when his eyes land of your Permission ID, he seems to relax — the man is still too intense though.

"I need to find 3-A?" your voice comes out a little too squeaky for your liking.

He frowns for a moment, visibly thinking your words over. "Midnight's with them?"

Though he speaks out loud, it seems to be more to himself than to you. Still, you nod shyly, and it's like something lights up in his head, understanding replacing his frown.

"You're the partner!"

You don't need a mirror to know that your face is turning a bright shade of red that could rival Vlad King's costume, and all you can do is nod again. Nemuri has talked about you to her colleagues? God, you hope she hasn't said anything embarrassing.

"Follow me then!"

Before you can say anything, Vlad King is making his way towards a staircase. You need to nearly run to catch up with him. "I had lunch with her today. Didn't say anything about you coming to U.A. though."

"It's a surprise?" you offer hesitantly. “I managed to get out of work early for once, so I thought..." you trail off, realizing that you are already talking more than you should, more than you usually would with a stranger. Your face is definitely not doing to stop blushing any time soon, and the erratic beating of your heart isn't about to calm down any sooner.

Just as can finally see the classroom, the bell rings and students swarm the corridor — Vlad King has a hand on your shoulder and keeps you away from students all too excited to get back to their dorms. Nemuri's students stare at the two of you in passing; a blond boy and a girl with periwinkle hair even more curiously so than the others, but Vlad King's presence by your side probably stops them from asking questions.

"Hey, Midnight, there's someone here to see you!" the Pro Hero booms as soon as the corridor is nearly empty.

You can't help but noticed the way Nemuri's shoulders tense at the loud exclamation, a tension that almost disappears when her eyes find you. But there's a frown creasing her brow as soon as her gaze lands on Vlad King's large hand, still resting comfortably on your shoulder.

"You should have said something about your little partner being this cute," he continues, patting your shoulder with just a bit too much force, and the gesture makes Nemuri's eyes narrow. "I'll let you two be then!"

He doesn't wait a second, doesn't acknowledge Nemuri opening her mouth to say something, before he steps away, immediately striking a conversation with one of the few students still present in the corridor.

When you look back at your girlfriend, she is simply staring at you, and you can't find the courage to take a step inside the classroom, instead standing awkwardly in the doorway. Shit. What are you? A vampire waiting for an invitation to come in someone's home or something?

"Sorry I came unannounced. I probably made things awkward for you," you mumble, staring down at your feet as you can't find it in you to look at her in the eyes.

"Don't apologize, sweetheart. I'm always happy to see your pretty face." The words make you look up, and Nemuri is staring at you, soft smile tugging at your lips as she crooks a finger to beckon you — and oh so obediently, you step inside the classroom.

She stands up from her chair and approaches, a soft hand immediately placed on your cheek, gentle and warm, though her face remains impossible to read. "Did Kan-san treat you well?"

You nod. "He was really nice," you say, your voice still betraying your nerves. Nemuri's thumb strokes your cheek once, twice, before she lowers her hand your shoulder, where Vlad King's was moments ago. It would be soothing if her perfectly manicured red nails weren't digging into your skin ever so slightly. "But he's still scary," you add hurriedly. Nemuri loosens her grip, but her hand doesn't move away.

Maybe Vlad King isn't quite as scary as a jealous Midnight. (And he isn't nearly as hot either.)

She leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, it's brief and she pulls away almost immediately to retreat and settle back down in her chair. As she watches you, you freeze, unable to even take one step forward. There's that look in Nemuri's eyes, the one that make a shiver run up your spine and makes you want to press your thighs together.

"Baby, close the door for me and come here."

Always seeking to please your girlfriend, you obey without saying a word, pushing the heavy door until it’s closed. You turn back to look at Nemuri again and she is waiting, hands settled on her lap as she stares at you, unblinking. Hesitantly, shaking on your legs, you approach her, knowing that you are but a small prey rushing into the claws of your predator; the smirk that tugs at the corner of her mouth only confirms it.

As soon as you’re close enough, Nemuri grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer, guiding you onto her lap, forcing you to straddle her thighs. 

“You came all the way here from work just to see me?”

You nod at her question, and she nearly coos at you in response. “You’re so sweet, baby,” she whispers against your lips before giving your mouth a faint peck. “Always so nice and good for me, aren’t you?”

You nod again. One of her hands moves away from your hips and you know to brace yourself, but you still let out a yelp when her palm comes into contact with your ass — it’s playful, you know she hasn’t put much of her strength in it, but Nemuri is a lot stronger than most give her credit for.

“Y-Yes! I am!” You stutter your way through the three simple words. Nemuri is obviously in one of those moods where she expects you to be verbal when she talks to you, that’s what earned you the spank, there’s not a doubt in your mind about it. It’s a dangerous mood for your girlfriend to be in at her work place; there’d be nothing reasonable about whatever she has in mind.

You try to stand up, but Nemuri’s grip on you keeps you firmly where she wants you.

“Nemuri,” you whine, “we shouldn’t...”

“We shouldn’t what, baby?” she asks, smirking up at you before tilting her head to kiss your neck.

“Not here...”

You feel her teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of your neck (you know she is leaving a bruise, but you can’t stop her, don’t even want to stop her) and the moan that escapes your throat is embarrassing.

“What can’t we do?” she insists.

"I know you, Nemuri," you start, placing your hands on her shoulders to keep yourself balanced and stable as her lips found your pulse point. Your breathing is already getting ragged, and you know, just as you know Nemuri wants to fuck you, that you are dripping wet. "This is your work place," you whisper, "we can't have sex here."

She chuckles at your words, and all you want is to bury your face in her neck, in her hair, to hide your reddening cheeks. She pulls away, kisses your cheek in the most delicate of manners, and looks at you, seeming all too serious all of a sudden — which means that she's definitely up to something.

“I don’t know about having sex, but I could definitely fuck you. Right here, right now.”

“Nemuri,” your voice doesn’t sound anywhere near the tone of warning you aimed for. It’s embarrassing. But at least you could have sounded whinier, so there’s still a sliver of hope for your dignity to make it through the day.

She offers you a smile when you finally look back at her face; it’s a soft and genuinely kind smile, no trace of teasing.

“If you don’t want me to touch you, I’ll stop and let you go, I promise. But you have to tell me, baby.”

You already knew that Nemuri wouldn’t push you to do anything that you don’t want to do; she has always been caring and respectful of you, but still, it is reassuring to hear the words in this moment. But you don’t want her to stop.

“Do you want me to stop touching you, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “N-No!” you hurry to say before Nemuri has a reason to give you another spank.

"What do you want, then?" Her sultry tone sends a shiver up your spine

You don't like that question; you've never liked it in any sort of context. There are too many possibilities, too many ways to answer and it's too much. The thought that you may say the wrong thing plagues your mind every time. Nemuri seems to notice your growing distress, and caresses your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin, once, twice. She leans her forehead against yours.

The silence that settles between the two of you is comfortable, barely interrupted by your heavy breathing. It’s hard to catch your breath when you are sitting on the lap of the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met — when all of her attention is on you, just you, nothing else.

“Can I take off your pants and touch you, baby?” Nemuri asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Please.”

Nemuri smiles and guides you off her lap, but her hands remain on your hips as she does so, keeping you up on your feet as your legs tremble. She unbuttons your pants and meets your eyes with her own, probably trying to look for any sign that you might want to put a stop to everything, but when all she can see is your smile and flushed face, she pulls down your zipper. You swallow thickly as you watch her hook her thumbs into the waistline of your pants to tug them down. She kneels down in front of you to push your pants past your knees and helps you step out of one of the legs — only one though.

Her eyes trail up your body, lingering on your underwear, and you hide your face in your hands, refusing to look at the satisfied smirk on her lips. You’re so wet already that you’ve soaked through your underwear, you just know it, and there’s no way in hell Nemuri hasn’t noticed it.

She kisses your thighs and quickly moves to press her mouth to your core. Through the dampened fabric of your underwear, you feel her tongue peeking out past her lips to tease your clit. The moan that her tongue elicits is indecent and embarrassingly loud, it makes Nemuri chuckle against you, the vibrations making your body shake violently.

“Please don’t tease,” you mutter. She looks up at you and you bite down on your lip for a second, “please, mommy. No teasing.”

“Since my baby asked so nicely,” she starts as her fingers grab your underwear to pull it down, “mommy will be nice today,” she whispers against your cunt before standing back up.

She circles around you silently, stopping behind you. When you turn your head to glance above your shoulder to see what Nemuri is up to, you feel strong fingers on your neck, her palm warm against the back of it. She presses against your neck until you obediently bend down over her desk; she doesn’t bother moving her papers away, simply forcing your face down against it.

“Hands on the desk. And don’t you dare move or I’ll make sure you can’t sit properly for days.”

You don't need to be told twice; your hands find the edge of the desk, gripping at it like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to keep yourself from shaking. You know she is staring at you, at your ass, at your dripping cunt, like you're the most beautiful thing she's ever looked at. It's what she always does. And yet, its effect on you never changes.

She kicks at one of your feet, not hard, just a way for her to signal that she wants you to spread your legs further for her, which you do. A gentle finger runs up the inner side of your thigh, stopping just before it can reach your most sensitive spot.

"I haven't even started to touch you and you're already dripping," she says as she leans down, her ample chest flush against your back and hips against your ass. "Such a desperate little slut for me."

Nemuri kisses your neck before standing back up, and you whine as her comforting warmth leaves your body. All you want is to feel her, but she keeps denying you.

"Don't worry, baby. You've been good for mommy, so I'll treat you well and make you come."

"Pl—Please! Mommy, I need you!"

She hums, delighted by the pathetic desperation in your voice. You hear her move behind you, and all of a sudden, she's spreading your lower lips and her tongue teases your core.

"Fuck," you groan, knees bucking at the sudden touch and pleasure rushing through your whole body.

She laps at your cunt, humming again in delight, satisfied by your taste. Her thumb finds your clit, pressing her thumb harshly against it before she starts to circle it, the movements quicken to reach the punishing pace that you've grown accustomed to throughout your relationship with Nemuri.

Tension builds in the pit of your stomach, your grip on the Nemuri's desk the only thing that keeps you stable as she fucks you with her tongue. You're getting close to release at an alarming, embarrassing speed, and for a moment, you think you can feel your girlfriend smile against your pussy.

"I'm so close," you moan, "please—"

And just like that, everything stops. You can't feel Nemuri's tongue, or hands, or breath on your skin, and you whine in the most pitiful of manners. Tears are welling up in your eyes. You need her to make you come. Before you can whine once more and complain about wanting an orgasm, two of her fingers are pushing against your hole.

You're so wet and turned on that her fingers meet no resistance as she pushes then into your sopping cunt. She doesn't move them though, simply kisses both your ass cheeks.

"Mommy..." you whimper weakly.

"Yes, baby? Is there something you want?"

"Please—"

You're sobbing and too desperate to care about how wrecked and miserable you must seem right now.

"Please what?"

"Mommy," you whimper, voice trembling just as much as your limbs. "I need you to fuck me! Please!"

"You're so good for me today, baby," she coos as she gives your ass a harsh squeeze, her fingers still unmoving deep inside your core. "Keep being good for me and try not to be too loud. We wouldn't want anyone to get curious and find us like that, would we?"

And finally, Nemuri starts fucking you with her fingers, pumping them in and out your cunt at a merciless pace. Your muscles clench around her fingers as she fucks you, her free hand sneaking between your thighs to pinch your clit between two fingers. You have to bite on your arm to keep yourself from screaming at the sudden sensation.

"Mommy— I'm gonna—"

"It's okay, baby, you can come for me."

And you do. You come on her fingers, muffling your screams into your arm. She helps you ride out your orgasm, fingers moving gently into you until your breathing becomes even and she pulls them out. She wraps an arm around your waist and guides you to her chair, sitting you there, setting one knee next to your thigh. She takes your chin between her thumb and index finger and tilts your head; you can feel a sticky wetness on your skin and you know it's your juices coating her fingers.

She kisses you and, out habit, you part your lips to grant her tongue access. You can taste yourself in her mouth, it's embarrassing but you can't pull away.

"Open up, baby," she demands, letting go out your chin to press her drenched fingers against your lips.

You gladly take them into your mouth, lips wrapping around her fingers to suck on them, tongue twirling around them to clean them up of your slick arousal.

Nemuri kisses your forehead, "you're so cute, baby, always so good and obedient for mommy," she whispers, smiling softly at you. "I really should consider keeping a strapon in my things in case you come see me at school again."

"You can always fuck me with a strapon when we get home," you mumble, unable to meet her eyes as your face flushes all over again.

"Oh, I intend to, my sweet baby."

[slasherbastard]

Stockholm Syndrome - Brahms Heelshire

(gif credit: boodalinski)

Request:  Thank you, so I was wondering if I could get one for Brahms. Where the reader (preferably a girl you can do gn, if you like!!) moves from the states to the u.k for a job. And she comes across Brahms home bc she got lost. And she steps inside and spends the night there and he like stalks her from the walls. And the next morning he like knocks her out and takes her hostage after she tries to leave, bc shes his new obsession. Maybe Stockholm syndrome if you’re comfortable with doing that. I’m not sure if you write smut or anything like that.

Warning: light smut Word count: 2639 Notes: okay okay so I redid the ending and added the smut, that’s the last time I try to write when sleep deprived

Brahms wasn't expecting guests that night but then you stumbled upon the manor. Ever since Greta left to who knows where Brahms had no one to look after him so he was left to look after himself. Now that he didn't have to worry about hiding away from any nannies he was free to roam the rooms of the house instead of just observing from the walls. It was nice for him, being able to eat warm meals whenever he pleased without having to worry about them being freezing out while he waited for the nanny to stray far enough from the kitchen that it'd be safe enough for him to leave the walls and steal the food like a rat.

It was getting late and Brahms couldn't sleep, the loneliness was eating him alive and he was starving because apparently 4 PB&J sandwiches weren't enough for him. Brahms hated to admit it but he missed Greta and needed her - no, he needed someone to just care for him and love him the way she could've. The next thing Brahms knew he was out of the walls and making yet another PB&J for himself, rubbing his tired eyes as he screwed the lid back onto the jar of jam.

That's when he heard the front door open and he froze. There was definitely time for Brahms to grab his sandwich to run back to one of the few entries into the walls but worry filled him as he abandoned the meal and found the hole in the parlour where a mirror once hung. Within a few seconds you walked past one of the slits in the wallpaper and Brahms held his breath as a stranger walked into the kitchen.

"Hello? I'm sorry to intrude but I'm lost and-" She stopped as she saw the freshly made sandwich sitting on the counter and spun around and Brahms watched her every move. He watched as this girl cautiously looked around before grabbing the sandwich and taking a bite out of it, Brahms expected himself to be angry. How dare a complete stranger just waltz into his home and eat his food? But for some reason he wasn't mad, in fact, something about the stranger fascinated him. "Whoever made this, this is a surprisingly good PB&J. Is this place haunted?" She muttered the last bit to herself and Brahms quietly chuckled behind his mask as she put away the items Brahms had left out and finished the sandwich before walking upstairs and continuing to talk to herself, blabbering about how she was giving herself 'horror movie' vibes.

She yawned as she reached the top of the stairs and peaked into the bedrooms still quietly calling out just in case somebody actually was home, and nobody was to her knowledge. Brahms followed her through the walls as she found one of the guest bedrooms and yawned again. The stranger dropped the bag she was holding onto the floor and crawled into the bed, tiredly talking to herself. "Alright, Y/N. Just go to sleep then leave as soon as you wake up." 'Y/N' what a beautiful name.

Brahms quietly chanted the name under his breath as he watched her fall onto the bed and snuggle into the small stream of blankets. He didn't have Greta anymore but that didn't matter because now he has you, Y/N.

--

You opened your eyes as the memories from last night came back to you. You'd caught a bus straight from the airport to what you were hoping was a cheap motel but instead you managed to miss your stop and got dropped off in the middle of nowhere. This would've been fine if it wasn't the last bus scheduled for the night and you weren't suffering from the effects of jetlag after leaving the states for a job you didn't even want in the first place, you tried calling a cab but your phone couldn't pick up a signal.

A lot of the night was a haze. Most of it was spent walking in the dark until you found a manor, then you decided that going inside would be a great idea, then you fell asleep in said manor, and now here you are awake in the manor. You grabbed your phone off the stand beside the bed and realised it was dead before taking it and sliding out of the bed. A sudden loud noise came from downstairs and really woke you up.

You'd been so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't realise someone was standing right next to the bed, until you looked over and saw the towering figure of a masked man. You tried to scream but before you knew it you were waking up again with a raging headache and your arms bound behind a wooden column. You tried to scan your surroundings but it was too dark to see anything, now this place was really giving you horror movie vibes and you weren't going to be the final girl after this.

The ropes around your wrists were starting to burn as you continued to struggle against them, biting your lip as the pain got stronger. You let out a frustrated groan and slammed your back into the column. "Hello!" You yelled out. Now you were 100% certain that somebody was home, what if they were watching? "I swear my damn arms are gonna fall off." You felt the ropes loosen as your arms moved a little more freely but you were still stuck.

"Don't." You stopped and looked up. The light flicked on and a familiar figure stood a few feet away from you just staring at your helpless position on the floor. "You'll hurt yourself." He got closer and you continued trying to free yourself from the ropes as he got on his knees and was only inches away from your face, you hadn't realised he was wearing a mask this entire time - of course, this was the first time you were able to get a proper look at his face. You felt the ropes slip and one of your arms was free but the man was too distracted to realise this as you freed your second arm and held the rope in place. He stroked your cheek and tilted his head slightly, his cold touch made you cringe and he pulled back for a second before continuing. You could hear him whispering something under that creepy mask. "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N."

You almost didn't realise you had kicked him until he fell back, your delayed reaction wasn't enough to help you successfully escape as he was onto you the second you had stood up, pulling you back down as you screamed for help even though you knew nobody could hear you. He dragged you over to a small bed in the corner of the room and threw you onto it, you tried to get off but he was on top of you before you could make another move. Through that mask of his you could see his eyes, they looked desperate and hungry for something.

"Are you going to kill me?" His expression softened at those words but he gripped your arms tighter just in case you used this as a chance as to attempt another escape but instead you just watched him, expecting him to either wrap his hands around your neck or maybe stab you but he just watched you.

"Why would I hurt my pretty Y/N?"

You felt your heart stop and your chest ache at the same time. "Who are you?" You tried to wiggle free from his grip but he wasn't letting you go anywhere.

"Brahms."

--

You were supposed to be preparing lunch but you couldn't focus. You don't know how many days or weeks or even months have passed by now but somehow you were still alive. Brahms wasn't shy to show his obvious feelings towards you just hoping that maybe one day you'd return them, maybe you'd stop trying to run away if he showed you how loved you were by him. Brahms hasn't stopped trying to prove to you that you don't need anyone but him, especially considering that he was the only person you were going to be seeing for the rest of your life.

While Brahms wasn't afraid to show you that he loved you, you weren't afraid to show him how much you hated him - although, you weren't exactly sure why you acted that way. Sure, you were pissed that you ended up getting held hostage by a captor who wears a creepy mask the night you arrived in a new country but there was something about him that made you want to stay. In fact, you hadn't attempted another escape in what felt like forever. You didn't want to hate Brahms but there was a part of you forcing yourself to - maybe it was because you didn't want to admit that you had developed feelings for him.

You had no idea if Brahms noticed that your hatred for him was just a façade now. At night he'd cuddle up to you and you wouldn't try to fight him off like you used to, you also stopped ignoring him anytime he came into a room but that didn't mean you were getting friendly with him. Neither of you had gotten to that point in this unlikely 'friendship' where you felt like you could tell this man anything but you did wonder what would happen if you just told him. Sighing, you turned around and bumped into none other than Brahms.

Gasping, you quickly apologised and tried to run off somewhere but he grabbed your upper arm and held you in place. Looking up at him through the eyeholes of at mask you waited for him to tell you that he was hungry but instead he just looked at you. "What is it, Brahms?"

"Come with me." He didn't wait before he dragged you out of the kitchen and eventually you were both outside that loft when Brahms slammed your back into one of the walls. You groaned and cringed in pain before looking at up Brahms.

"What the hell was that-" Brahms threw a hand over your eyes and you froze when you felt hot breath on your neck. "Brahms?" You shook your head, trying to get Brahms to remove his hand from your face but it wouldn't budge as you suddenly felt his lips on your neck leaving light kisses heading up towards your jaw, sucking and biting on the areas. You bit your lip and tried not to react while also focusing on the sensation of his chapped yet soft lips against your skin. You felt your body moving on your own as you tried to get closer to Brahms needing a bit of friction to continue but he denied it and continued his little act before moving away for a brief moment then connecting his lips to yours. Taken aback, you hesitated trying to figure out whether you should kiss him back but before you knew it you'd lost control and your lips were moving in sync with his.

Brahms wanted to feel your body, to explore it, but he couldn't with one hand hiding himself you and the other clutching the mask. He wanted to drop it, shatter that porcelain thing into pieces just so you could see who he truly was without any restrictions. If you reacted badly then glue could fix the mask but nothing could fix what was your relationship.

Just as the two of you were getting into it Brahms broke away and you took that moment to catch your breath before Brahms removed his hand and you could see him readjusting that porcelain mask of his as you turned to run and find your way out of the walls but you stopped when you heard his voice. "Y/N I know you love me." You stopped and heard gentle movements behind you before Brahms appeared in front of you. "You do love me, right?"

You looked up at him with wide eyes at the realisation that he knew that you'd let your guard down ages ago, and you clearly didn't just kiss him for no reason. It was so damn obvious but you still wanted to say no. "Yes." dammit. Brahms looked at you as if he was waiting for you to say something else but you couldn't find the right words. Taking a breath and looking him dead in the eyes you finally spoke. "I. . .I-"

He got closer to you. "Tell me you love me, Y/N." Something within him seemed desperate as he tried to close in the small space between the two of you until your chests were almost connected. "Y/N?"

"I love you Brahms." You don't know exactly what you'd expected in that moment, maybe a hug? Did you expect him to cry? Whatever wholesome reaction you waited for from him never came. Instead, Brahms stuck a hand out for you and you took it without really thinking much of it as he slowly lead you into the loft. Although he was taking his time there was a sense of desperation circling him as he sat down longways on the bed and pulled you onto his lap and held onto you, his hands moving down to your lower back. This whole time his eyes were on you and your eyes were on him. "Brahms?"

"Mhmm?" He hummed, his hands now playing with the bottom of your shirt.

You leaned in close to Brahms' ear and whispered. "If we're going to do this, then I want to at least be able to see who's fucking me." You pulled away and planned to make eye contact with Brahms again but you barely got the chance before he switched the position.

"No." You felt your stomach churn as he said it, his voice had dropped as if he were pissed off but there was still a playful tinge behind it. Brahms wasted no time ripping your shirt off and bringing his masked face down to yours and kissing you through the mask. Suddenly he pulled away and reached over underneath his pillow and you threw your head back and watched as he pulled out a long piece of fabric. "Do you trust me?"

You were hesitant for a few seconds as Brahms messed around with the makeshift blindfold, still waiting for your reply. "Please, Y/N. I promise I'll make you feel good." He whined but you didn't need to be asked twice as you sat up and Brahms covered your eyes with the fabric and tied it off behind your head and pushed you back down onto the bed. You heard a light clank and tried to peak under the fabric to catch a glimpse of Brahms without that creepy mask on but all you saw was his head of dark curly hair as he began planting kisses, making his way down to your core.

Brahms woke up and immediately looked down at the girl in his arms and smiled under his mask and held back the urge to caress her face or move the hair away from her eyes, afraid he'd wake her. Y/N shifted her weight in her sleep and cuddled into Brahms' chest as he continued to hold onto her not daring to move. He wanted to laugh, cry tears of joy, because he really couldn't believe that he finally had the one thing he'd wanted ever since his own parents stopped treating him like their son, he finally had someone who loved him. "You're finally mine, Y/N."  He whispered and nuzzled his face into her hair.

[nikrangdan]

cafeworker!ni-ki

pairing: cafeworker!ni-ki x female reader

genre: fluff, comedy

description: the cashier at the new coffee shop was so adorable you just couldn’t resist visiting just for him

**did not proofread

————

contrary to popular belief, you were NOT a social person

whenever you were around friends and family, you were always the loudest person there

like SHUT UP Y/N!!!!!!

anyways although you were loud, people still enjoyed being around you because you had such a sweet soul and interesting humor

everyone close to you knew that you hated talking to people you didnt know

but to all the strangers? no

they would think you were an outgoing ready-to-meet-new-people extrovert

which was so, so wrong

but ALAS, you had to talk strangers almost everyday living in 2020

(well lets pretend we arent in the middle of a pandemic right now)

moving on......

so you were in high school at the downfall of your existence

you used to have so many friends when you were younger ..now you only have like 3

and those three were always busy (busy making up excuses thats for sure) so you never really hung out with them outside of school

and on one fine evening after school you decided to visit the new cafe 5 minutes from your house

u were really excited because all the cafes were 15 minutes from your house so now u could just walk to this one if u wanted to !!!

but yeah it was in the middle of a small plaza that had cute buildings

you pulled up to the parking lot and was just about to get out the car when u remembered..

u have to talk to the cashier :/

who’s a stranger! even more ://

it was always so weird to you.. whenever you went out you always had someone else order for you because you just hated talking to strangers

you just felt uncomfortable and you couldnt help it

its not like you have never ordered for yourself but you would always prefer not to

and now that you think about it

this is the first time you have gone out by yourself

you did text one of your friends beforehand but they said they “had homework to do”

LIES!!!!

but you really wanted to try the coffee so you just ran with it

time to face your fears!

you opened the glass door to reveal a cute looking cafe, like the ones you’d see in movies

you loved it already

glancing to the cashier you’d have to be talking to—

hold on

you had to do a double take because WOAH.....

the cashier...

he....

wow..

you have never seen a boy like that in your life

you stood there for like 3 seconds before coming to your senses and standing infront of the menu

that was infrONT OF HIM

“hi, what can i get for you?”

HIS VOICE OH MY GOD..!?!?!

“oh um.. can i get a second to .. look..?”

“yeah of course,” he gestured to the menu on the wall above him

hes so nice u almost cried

your eyes shakily traveled up to the chalkboard menu and u began to ‘read’ the options

its like u could feel his eyes on u WTF!!!!

um um um *internally keyboard smashes*

you couldnt even think

the words on the menu were like gibberish

the ONE time u go out by yourself

this had to happen.. of course! someone had it out for you, you were sure of it >:(

picking a random drink you gave him your order

“uh can i have an iced caramel macchiato?”

ITS LIKE YOU CANT SAY A SENTENCE WITHOUT UH OR UM

u cant help but think hes judging you

he looks like that while u are standing there in old sweatpants your dads tshirt

“sure, what size?” he looks into your eyes after putting your order into the machine

god you felt your heart stop

his Eyes..... theyre so beautiful

“oh um regular” you attempted to give a small smile

hopefully it looked like one

“okay that’ll be $5.12.”

you dug out some cash from your bag and handed it to him

he gave u your change and gave u a small smile

“your drink will be out in a minute”

AAAAA

he went :)

he is so CUTE.....?!?!

he looked around your age too

sigh... you knew he was way out of your league though

you were gushing over him but he probably thought you were just another boring customer

while waiting u sat at one of the 2 person tables on your phone

and u IMMEDIATELY went to text your groupchat

‘GUYS’

‘AT THE CAFE NEAR MY HOUSE’

‘CUTEST BOY IVE EVER SEEN EVER IN MY ENTIRE LIFE’

‘WTF IM GONNA CRY HOW DOES HE EXIST’

‘WAIT BRB HE S COMIBBG’

you tried to quickly put your phone down without looking suspicious when you saw him walking towards you with a drink in his hand

“here you go, enjoy” he said before swiftly making his way back to the counter and talking to the other worker there

wow... hes so mesmerizing

you’d steal glances at him every now and then while taking sips of your drink

you were sitting there for like 20 minutes before you noticed you finished your drink

you totally forgot you came here to see how good their coffee was

it was good by the way

sadly it was your time to leave

taking one last glance at him, you threw away your empty cup and walked out the door

wow

u cant believe you got to witness the most beautiful human being ever

in your small town?? crazy

you were sitting in your car just thinking

WAIT

U DIDNT EVEN KNOW HIS NAME!

you mentally punched yourself but then you started laughing

what does knowing his name even matter, its not like u were ever going to talk to him anyway

LOL

*sad emoji*

but the coffee was good so you definitely planned to go back

and not just because of the cute boy

...unless....

*time skip*

the next day you went there was a week later at the same time in hopes that he was working the same shift

AND HE WAS!!!!

score! 1 for y/n, 0 for umm... any other person who had a crush on him too i guess

the cafe didnt have too many people since it was fairly new and also in a small part of the city

so when you went in, you were the only one there along with the two workers

“welcome, what would you like to order?”

NOT THIS AGAIN

he looked even cuter today

his messy blond hair almost covered his eyes

you shouldve forced your friend to come with you this time

you ordered the same thing as last time but this time he asked for your name

hmmm

“um y/n” you answered

your heart was always beating 2 times as fast whenever you had to talk to him

he wrote it down on the cup and after you paid, you went to sit down at the same spot as last time

looking at him is literally the highlight of your day

the same thing happened as last time, he came over and gave you your drink without giving u a second glance

>:((((

boooo look at me cute boy

nonetheless u continued going to the cafe at the same time as much as u could which was like three times a week

literally over a month later and u dont think anythings going to happen

u punch yourself for thinking the boy would somehow find interest in you

hes still indifferent to you which isn’t surprising since you’ve never made any kind of move

ever

but

he should know u by now

hopefully..

*time skip again*

it was a saturday

at this point you’ve basically given up on having a crush on him and now since its become a routine u just say you go for the coffee

not really paying attention to your surroundings you dont notice that the boy at the cash register isnt the normal one you see almost everyday

“hey, what would you like to order?”

woah WHAT

you look up from your bag to notice a boy that was definitely not the one that normally stood infront of it at this time

and you also noticed something on this new cashier

a name tag

how come your old little crush didnt have one????

this new boys name was ‘jay’ and he was fairly cute too

looking around the corner at the other worker u noticed he has a name tag too

you recognized him because he was always working when the cute boy was at the cash register

his name was ‘heeseung’

after taking in these new additions you answered to jay

“oh um.. can i ge-,”

“she gets an iced caramel macchiato. her name is y/n”

??!<_|#%[>~€\£~

you whipped your head around so fast to see who said that behind you

was it who you thought it was ??!??!

YES IT WAS!!!!

OH MYGOD

ITS HIM

you widened your eyes at the boy who wasnt wearing his normal black and white uniform

instead he was wearing black ripped jeans and a gray hoodie

wow....... and u thought he couldnt look any better

BUT OMG?? HE REMEMBERS U

“oh wow ni-ki, you know her?” the boy named jay asked him

“uh yeah.. shes a regular” he said before walking to stand next to you

NI-KI

HIS NAME IS NI-KI OHMHGOD

u thought his name fit him perfectly its so CUTE

“are you gonna get something too?”

this whole time you were silent because.. what is going on

your heart was being SO fast you thought that everyone could hear it

“yup, can i get the same thing? also im paying for both of us”

WHAT??/):)/$;##\%|

ur eyes widened even more it looked like they were gonna pop out of its sockets

u unconsciously leaned towards the boy next you and kind of put your hands up

“w-what?? oh um no, you dont have to do that” you nervously said to him as he looked down at you

he kind of had a smile on his face

“i want to.”

there is no way this is happening

“oiiii ni-ki” jay chuckled while punching in numbers on the cash register

“ill have both of your drinks out soon, you two kids have fun!” jay said before turning around to face heeseung

WHAT??!!??!

your jaw almost dropped from shock

millions of thoughts ran through your brain and you couldnt even process anything

u cant believe this was happening

it was like a wattpad story or something.. is this how u meet ur soulmate

your thoughts were interrupted by a hand on your back momentarily and u look to see ni-ki shyly grinning and gesturing u towards a table

no way...

you awkwardly follow him to a 2 person table next to wall and sit down

you literally could not hear anything except for the pounding of your heart

“uh sorry about that...” he rubbed his neck and sheepishly smiled

“im ni-ki by the way”

“y/n...” u felt so awkward u wanted to cry

“agh, im really sorry if that was weird.. i just didnt know how to ask you out.....” he trailed off

*passes out*

IM JOKING

Ok but u felt ur heart stop bc NO WAY

“wait what??” u ask, ur eyes bigger than the moon

“um yeah... haha i took the day off today to try to talk to you.. sorry if that was weird..”

HE WAS SO AWKWARD JUST LIKE YOU IT WAS THE CUTEST THING EVER

“no its okay!! im glad actually...”

“really? so is it okay if we hang out?” he asked excitedly

u did not think u could handle HOW CUTE THIS BOY WAS O M G...

“of course! sorry if im kind of awkward though” you gave a small smile

“its okay, i think i am too”

you two began talking about the cafe and where you went to school

turns out even though you two lived in the same town (literally 5 minutes away from eachother) u went to different schools for some reason

u talked for like 2 minutes before jay walked up with your drinks

“hows it going guys?”

“its doing good bro, now go away..” ni-ki lightly shoved jay and laughed

you giggled at the sight

jay looked offended and came right back

“that is not how you talk to your elders ni-ki! y/n do you see this?!” he scoffed

ni-ki just rolled his eyes and turned back to you

“do not ignore me young man!” jay joked

“oh y/n, ive heard all about you from ni-ki over here by the way.”

ni-ki’s eyes got so big you almost got worried

he turned around so fast and gave jay one of those ‘i swear if you say anything ur dead meat’ looks

jay obviously did not care

“hes always like ‘y/n this y/n that’ blah blah im glad he finally got the balls to ask you out because im honestly sick of hearing it!” jay laughed

u were blushing so hard

NI-KI LIKED U????

this felt like a dream

ni-ki pushed jay away so hard and turned back with red cheeks

awe

but yeah that was the beginning of the cutest relationship ever

u and ni-ki were so cute together <333

you’d always visit him during ur free time

it took like 2 months before u two made it official tho

and he was the sweetest boyfriend ever

[fangirlandiknowit101]

Here's the sad pining sasuke i wrote last night... it's not finished and who knows when/if i'll finish it. university AU, not edited and there's some naru//hina and sasuke//OC bc i couldn't think of a canon character that fit. The texting part is also weird bc i wrote it all very fast lol. i'm sharing bc why not *shrugs*

xxx

It hurts, to look at them.

Sasuke can’t help himself. Naruto is his best friend, after all, and he’s not yet so desperate that he’ll avoid him. It’s worse, somehow, that he can’t even dislike her.

She’s good for him, he thinks, when he’s feeling particularly self-deprecating. Her hair is dark and her skin pale as porcelain, and that’s where the similarities end between him and Hinata.

Sweet, and so patient with Naruto. Soft-spoken, but not a pushover. Impeccably dressed, always, no make-up needed to outshine any girl beside her. A picture perfect couple, that’s what they are. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t have to watch it unfold from the front row.

How her shyness turned to surety, how her eyes would catch on Naruto and look away before, but now – now she looks at him like he belongs to her, soft smile on her plump lips.

Sasuke can’t even hate her, and he wishes he could.

It’s not her fault that Sasuke is the way he is. She doesn’t know, isn’t doing it on purpose. And yet, there’s a stab to Sasuke’s chest every time she takes his hand, every time Naruto tucks her silky hair behind her perfect ear.

Naruto will kiss her cheek and Sasuke will be looking, always looking. His face devoid of emotion, his voice carefully neutral. He can’t be mean to Naruto’s girlfriend, though he wishes he could. Maybe if Naruto got mad at him and pushed him away, Sasuke would be free to move on.

It’s more likely that Sasuke would apologize and do better, and he’d rather spare himself the embarrassment.

Sometimes he imagines that Hinata will find out, that she’ll start treating him with suspicion, watch his every move with her wide eyes. Feel threatened by him. But Sasuke is no threat. He’s tired and hurting, but he’s not a homewrecker. It would be a lot easier if Naruto didn’t keep nudging him in Sakura’s direction.

It’s not Sakura’s fault, either. She’s dreaming of something she can’t have, and the similarities make him sick to his stomach.

Sometimes he thinks he’ll date her, live the lie to the fullest. Give her what she wants, since he’s doomed anyway. He doubts he’d last long, though. If he had even the slightest bit of interest in women – but when he looks at her, there’s just no attraction. He’s not sure how no one’s noticed yet. It’s not like he’s that good of an actor. He thinks the only reason no one’s figured it out is because he’s so deep in the closet, and they’re all so heterosexual. Why would they suspect he’s gay? It suits them better if he isn’t.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was that late already,” Sakura says beside him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

The bar is lively around them, but the music is at a bearable noise level. She’s looking at her phone, frowning. On the other side of the small table, Naruto pouts.

“It’s not late!” he objects, the beer in his glass sloshing around as he waves his hands around. “We just got here!”

“We’ve been here for three hours, I think,” Hinata says, leaning her cheek on his shoulder.

Sasuke wonders how she manages, the way he moves around so much. Perhaps her body is as soft as her voice, easily following him.

“I told you I have to get up early tomorrow.” Sakura sighs, irritated. She fishes her bag up from the floor, putting her phone inside it. “I really have to get going.”

“I’ll walk you to the station,” Sasuke offers. Not because he particularly wants to, but he’s not in the mood to subject himself to third-wheeling Naruto and Hinata. “I should get going, anyway.”

“What?” Naruto looks disappointed, more disappointed than when Sakura announced her departure. “I thought you were free tomorrow.”

Rolling his eyes, Sasuke swallows down the last of his drink.

“Doesn’t mean I want to stay up all night,” he counters with, easing out of the booth. “I still have to study.”

“You study too much,” Naruto mutters, giving Hinata a smile like an afterthought when she squeezes his arm.

“Maybe if you studied at all you wouldn’t need to panic before every exam,” Sakura nags at him, coming around the table to wait next to Sasuke. “Some of us care about our grades.”

“Nerds.” At least Naruto looks a little happier, and Sasuke hates to think that it’s because he thinks anything’s going to happen between him and Sakura. “Don’t get lost, you two!”

They say their goodbyes, and Sasuke tries to pretend he doesn’t notice how Sakura’s cheeks fill with color when they step outside the bar. She’s put a jacket on, but Sasuke’s fine in his sweater. It’s not cold enough that her blush can be blamed on the weather.

“Thanks for walking me,” she says, hefting her bag higher up her shoulder. She’d joined them straight from the library, researching her latest paper. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s fine,” he tells her, hands tucked into his sleeves.

He doesn’t want to run the risk of her attempting to reach for his hand. As much as he dislikes her attention, it’s safer if she thinks he’s just playing hard to get. He won’t have to explain, then, why he hasn’t outright told her to give up. He should, he knows. But Naruto would just nudge him towards some other girl, would bother him about it until Sasuke started going on actual dates. It’s touching, how worried he is over Sasuke potentially being lonely.

Too bad Naruto himself is the cause of it.

“You’re not doing anything tomorrow, then?” Sakura asks, stepping aside as they meet a group of half-drunk businessmen. “I’m working until five…”

It would be so easy to invite her out. To suggest a movie, or trying out that new café near campus. To watch her eyes light up with hope, watch her mouth stretch into an excited smile.

“I really do need to study,” he says. “And I’m almost out of clean clothes.”

None of it is a lie, technically. He’s just not sure he’ll actually do either of those things tomorrow.

“Oh.”

She tries to hide her disappointment, and Sasuke is an expert by now at pretending he doesn’t notice. They walk the rest of the way in silence, waving a quick goodbye at the ticket gates as Sakura’s train is due to arrive in just two minutes. Sasuke buys a drink from a vending machine and takes small sips as he waits for his own, mindlessly scrolling through social media. He almost ignores the text Naruto sends.

> Wanna hang out tomorrow?

He contemplates it. On the one hand, yes, of course he wants to. On the other, having an entire day to himself has its appeal.

> I’ll be busy

> Ooh, with sakura?

The train arrives, and Sasuke snags a seat next to a couple too caught up with each other to pay attention to him.

> No

> Got studying and laundry to do

The reply is instant.

> That’s too boring!!! I’m coming over for lunch

> Whatever

He pockets his phone, and stares down at the bottle in his hands for the rest of the trip. It doesn’t help against the warmth rising in his chest. At least he doesn’t do this to Sakura – doesn’t invite himself into her space, ignorant of her feelings. It doesn’t make him feel better.

xxx

Sasuke doesn’t have a lot of friends. He’s got Naruto, and then there’s his small group of friends from high school. Naruto is the only one who still lives nearby. Rather, Sasuke had ended up staying in Konoha like him. It’s a big enough city that most of his classmates are strangers, although slightly less so in their second year. He stayed with his parents for his first year, but when one of his cousins moved abroad for work he took the opportunity to stay at her apartment instead. It’s closer to his university, and if he, potentially, wanted to bring a guy home then no one would know.

He doesn’t think his parents would mind, but there wouldn’t be any privacy. He relishes in it, and Naruto does, too.

“I should just move in with you,” Naruto groans, spread out on his couch. “You wouldn’t believe how annoying my mom was this morning.”

“I think I can believe it,” Sasuke tells him, cleaning up after their lunch. “And just to be clear, I’ve never said you’d be welcome to live here.”

“Stingy,” Naruto grumbles. “How long is your cousin gone, anyway?”

Shrugging, Sasuke dries off the counter just for something to do with his hands.

“A year at least. We’ll see. So it’s not like I’ll be living here forever.”

“But still!”

“Where would you even sleep?”

Naruto happily pats the couch. When Sasuke scowls at him, he simply grins.

“Come on,” Naruto says. “I want to watch a movie.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I need to study.”

Still, he gives in too easily. Naruto lifts his legs to give him room, dumping them all over Sasuke’s lap once he sits down. It’s things like this that makes Sasuke’s heart refuse to give up. He leans his elbow on the back of the couch, cheekbone pressed to his closed fist. He doesn’t say anything when Naruto picks a drama at random, letting him comment on the plot as much as he wants. Watching movies with Naruto is certainly never quiet, and he winces as Naruto kicks his legs as he shouts his anger at the main character.

When the movie ends, Naruto doesn’t start a new one. Instead he chews on his bottom lip, playing with the remote. Sasuke considers getting up to use the toilet, maybe suggesting going to the corner store for snacks, but then Naruto clears his throat suspiciously.

“What?” he asks, irritated when Naruto takes his time.

“So, how are things going with Sakura?”

He resists the urge to pinch his nose. He still lets out a heavy breath, not quite a sigh but close enough that Naruto frowns.

“I mean,” Naruto continues, “you could just ask her out. She’s definitely going to say yes.”

Sasuke shifts, uncomfortable. Naruto’s legs are still on top of his. His socks have little frogs on them.

“I’ve told you I’m not really into the idea of a relationship right now.”

“Uh-huh.” Naruto rolls his eyes, pushing himself up and finally removing his legs, crossing them at the ankles instead. “Sounds like excuses to me.”

“Just drop it, Naruto.”

“But if you get together things will be so much easier,” Naruto insists, poking at his arm. “We can go on double dates, and stuff.”

Sending him a glare, Sasuke pulls a leg up to his chest. It won’t prevent Naruto if he decides to get comfy on his lap again, but it might make him think twice at least. Naruto’s only wearing shorts, and all that naked skin isn’t good for his heart. It’s definitely too cold for it, but Naruto’s never been one to care about the weather.

“We already go places together.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same!”

Sasuke pinches his lips, looking away. If he’s not careful, those large blue eyes will convince him to cave in, and then he’ll find himself with a girlfriend. He does a lot for Naruto, but there are limits.

“I’m not going to ask her out,” he mutters, knowing it will only lead to more questioning.

Sure enough, Naruto makes a noise of protest.

“But you haven’t rejected her either!”

“She hasn’t asked me out either.”

“It’s obvious she likes you.”

“That’s her problem.”

Naruto kicks at his thigh, using his heel. He looks properly annoyed now, as if Sasuke is a petulant child, refusing to do what’s best for him.

“If you got over yourself for a minute, you’d realize what a catch she is!”

He doesn’t reply. Let Naruto think he’s just stubborn, or an asshole, or whatever. Let him think Sasuke’s just stringing her along, keeping her attention while refusing to commit. It’s better than the alternative.

“Leave it, Naruto,” he warns, getting up and moving to the kitchen. “We’re not talking about this.”

At least Naruto doesn’t follow him, though it doesn’t make much of a difference. The apartment is small, no wall separating the kitchen from the living room. He searches through his cabinets, locating a forgotten bag of wasabi peas. He throws them at Naruto’s head.

“Eat these and shut up,” he says.

To his relief, Naruto does as told.

xxx

He picks up the call from Karin half-distracted, mind still stuck on a question for tomorrow’s seminar. As usual, she doesn’t wait for him to say hi, making her wince with the volume of her voice.

“Do you have any idea how tiring it is to listen to Naruto whine about you?” she starts with, the background noise suggesting she’s outdoors. “Can’t you just tell him you’re gay and put me out of my misery.”

“No thanks.” He drops his pen on his desk, rubbing at his eyes. He regrets not going to the university library, at least then he wouldn’t have been able to pick up the call. “Was that all? I’m kind of busy.”

“You know, this is exactly why I moved away,” she continues, ignoring him. “I thought I could get away from all the high school-level drama. Just get yourself a boyfriend, and go on those stupid double dates my cousin is so desperately yearning for. How hard can it be?!”

He can feel a headache incoming, and he rubs his fingertips between his brows. Naruto had sulked for hours the day before, until Sasuke got sick of it and threw him out. It was definitely backhanded of him to call Karin and complain.

“If you really wanted to be left out of it, why are you calling me? That’s the opposite of not getting involved.”

“Because it’s really painful and I’m morally obligated as the only person with functional brain cells to tell you to move on. Juugo’s too nice to say it and Suigetsu would give you terrible advice and sit back and watch. I’m being nicer to you than you deserve.”

“By telling me to move on,” Sasuke deadpans, wondering why his parents couldn’t have settled down somewhere else.

“Well, someone has to do it! Clearly I’m the gay cousin in the family, so you’re screwed. Might as well get over it and get laid.”

“I really hate you sometimes, you know that?”

She huffs at him, traffic and broken conversations filtering through the phone. There’s the jingle of a shop’s door, and the noise cuts off.

“Your pining is just getting sad,” she eventually replies, distractedly. “Trust me, I know my cousin. He’s not worth it.”

Something unpleasant churns in Sasuke’s stomach. He wants to argue with her that he is worth it, but he doesn’t want to land himself in an hour-long lecture if he can help it. He rolls his neck, making a face. She’s got a point, but he doesn’t enjoy hearing it. His life would be a lot simpler if he could find someone who made him forget about Naruto. He’s just not sure it’s fair to expect someone to instantly replace a lifetime of friendship.

“I don’t think I should have to come out just because Naruto irritates you,” is what he says instead, leaning back in his chair. “What if my parents find out and disown me? You want to be responsible for that?”

“Sasuke,” she sighs, “your brother is literally gay and your parents love his boyfriend.”

“So?”

“Stop. Making. Excuses.”

He bites his cheek, holding back a denial. He’s not worried about his parents, he’s worried about Naruto’s reaction. That things will change between them. That he’ll think Sasuke has feelings for him, which would be correct but would also ruin absolutely everything.

“I’ll… consider it,” he concedes, after a long silence, during which Karin has finished buying whatever it was she needed.

“Really? Because I’m going to hold you to that.”

He sighs.

“Next time I’m not picking up when you call me.”

xxx

A few weeks pass, and not much changes. Naruto still takes up too much space in his head and life, Sakura continues to drop hints but refuses to make the first move, and Hinata is still as lovely as ever. She doesn’t seem to have much of a personality other than being Naruto’s girlfriend, but to be fair Sasuke hasn’t precisely paid attention or tried to get to know her. Naruto’s birthday is drawing closer, and he can’t bring himself to do anything to break the status quo before then.

He’s been considering it, though. It would be a relief to stop pretending. He can’t imagine himself finding a boyfriend, though, because where would he even meet someone? It’s too awkward to use a dating app, and he’s not precisely social. He doesn’t have any experience, either, if you don’t count those childish games they played sometimes when they were younger. And that one time Naruto kissed him by accident when they were twelve.

Because of this, he’s really not expecting it when one day in class, just as the lecture ends, his eyes fall on the messenger bag that the guy next to him has just finished packing. There’s a rainbow pin on it, and Sasuke blurts out his question before he can stop to think about it.

“Are you gay?”

He only lifts his eyes from the pin when the surprised silence stretches out a bit too long. Their eyes meet, and the other boy is staring at him like he’s not sure how to react.

“Uh,” he says eventually, fingers clenching around the bag’s strap. “I mean, yes? But if you’re thinking about the pin it’s just a regular rainbow…”

He trails off, and Sasuke feels his cheeks heat up a bit. He can’t believe he just asked, when he himself has gone to such lengths to make sure no one made such assumptions about him.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine.”

Maybe he should know the guy’s name, but he doesn’t. He’s pretty short, hair dyed a light brown and glasses perched on his nose. Cute, but Sasuke’s not sure he’s his type. He’s not sure he has a type, other than Naruto.

“Are you gay?” the guy asks him, eyebrows rising above the frame of his glasses.

Sasuke licks his lips. He could say no, but to what end?

“I am,” he forces out, breathing in a deep breath.

“Oh.” There’s red color blooming on the other boy’s face, his eyes flickering to the side for a moment. “I was kind of hoping, but, um… I mean, hoping sounds weird! Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to ask outright.”

When Sasuke stands up, he realizes he’s almost a head taller than him.

“I’m Sasuke,” he offers, clicking his laptop shut and slowly sliding it into his bag.

“I know. I mean! I’m Hiroshi. Nice to meet you.”

Sasuke nods, and awkwardly turns to leave. Hiroshi stops him with a hand to his arm, though, and Sasuke swallows nervously as the turns back. He’s not interested in Hiroshi, not really, but he’s never been asked out by a boy before and the novelty of the situation is getting to him.

“Do you, um, are you busy right now? We could have lunch?”

He weighs the pros and cons in his mind. As nervous as Hiroshi looks, there’s a determined glint in his eyes that sways Sasuke over.

“Okay,” he says, and just like that he’s doing what Karin told him to do.

He’s trying, at least.

xxx

Over the course of a week, including having coffee together and a visit to the aquarium, Sasuke learns a lot about Hiroshi. Or Hiro, as he likes his friends to call him. They don’t have too much in common, but they’re both gay and studying agricultural economics. Once Hiro gets over his initial shyness, Sasuke finds he’s got a great sense of humor and won’t hesitate to poke fun at him.

It’s a breath of relief, to spend time with someone who doesn’t know him from before. He didn’t realize how much he needed it – just being able to be himself, without constantly keeping himself in check.

He can’t fool himself to think it’s enough to replace Naruto, but maybe he doesn’t need to replace him. Maybe it’s enough that Hiro seems to like him. He doesn’t really think about it, when he invites Hiro over on a Saturday night, after they’d had dinner at a nice udon place.

“Oh, wow,” Hiro says as he steps into Sasuke’s apartment, making an impressed face. “Nice place.”

“It’s my cousin’s, so no need to sound so impressed.”

Hiro rolls his eyes, taking off his shoes and jacket and following Sasuke inside.

“Alright, I’ll try to keep it in,” he teases, sitting on the couch when Sasuke motions him towards it. “But it must be nice, to have your own place like this. The dorms are fine, but I can’t exactly bring guys there.”

Humming his agreement, Sasuke grabs two cans of soda from the fridge, handing one of them to Hiro when he sinks down on the couch next to him.

“Want to watch something?”

Hiro nods, and Sasuke brings the TV to life. He’s not expecting anything to happen – they’ve only known each other a week. He’s still coming to terms with having a friend other than Karin he can talk to like this, and she doesn’t really count since there was never the potential for anything to happen between them. Hiro is… potentially someone Sasuke could date. At least there’s nothing wrong with him, not yet, and Sasuke’s easing himself into the idea of getting to know him better.

He finds a movie at random, some sci-fi that doesn’t look terrible. The movie turns into background noise as they talk, Hiro’s eyes watching his face more than the screen. It’s nice, in a new, exhilarating way, to have a guy’s attention on him like this. He’s not sure what to do with it. When Hiro moves closer, knee touching Sasuke’s thigh, hand resting on the back of the couch and occasionally touching his neck, Sasuke can’t find it in him to move away.

It feels like a secret, shared between the two of them. He thinks of Naruto for a long moment, allows himself the pain lacing through his chest as he imagines light brown hair replaced with blond, dark eyes replaced with blue. Then, he pushes it away, tells himself he can have this. The emotions are only his own.

It’s all happening too fast when Hiro grows bold, leaning in to press their mouths together, but he doesn’t care. It’s no one’s business if he spends the evening on his couch with a boy in his lap, a boy who isn’t his best friend.

The pain is easier to swallow if he tells himself that he’s the only one hurt.

[foxy-exy]

Cat Magnet

loosely based on that falling for ur fuckbuddy bc ur cat likes them reddit post

"My fuckbuddy is kind to my cat and my cat likes him. I’m starting to have feelings for him because of that”

Andrew Minyard might be in too deep.

Sir Fat Cat McCatterson was not named by Andrew, because Andrew did not care to name a cat. He did not, in fact, care to own a cat. But apparently, his ground floor apartment simply came with a cat — one that hung around his back door until he opened it to smoke, that slowly began migrating into the apartment until she was inside of it more than she was out, that yelled at him until she owned a food bowl, a water bowl, an absurdly expensive cat tree, and a box of at least ten toys that she liked to chew on and absolutely destroy with her back legs.

(She would then bring those thoroughly killed toys to lay at Andrew’s feet and, once more, she would yell until he gave her a nod and a pat.)

Sir was named by an over-enthusiastic Nicky on his first visit, and she had no other name. The lack of an actual, non-Nicky-bequeathed name wasn’t an issue until Andrew found himself entertaining more than simply his cousin or his twin.

Usually, the cat avoided everyone, hiding in the bedroom if Aaron was visiting, barely peering out from the kitchen for Nicky, vanishing like a ghost if Andrew ever brought a stranger home.

Other visitors were rare — occasionally, a less-than-annoying coworker, a person who worked out next to him at the gym and didn’t chatter too much. Almost never hookups. Andrew generally kept those away from his place.

But also, Andrew generally kept his hookups to a one time occurrence, or an occasional repeat at a single location. Neil Josten was an exception because hooking up with him for a bit once in Eden Twilight’s bathroom simply…hadn’t been enough. And seeing him in weird hours of the morning/night in the 24 hour grocery store, bringing him back to his car for an hour before they parted ways…hadn’t been enough. Running into him in the library and pulling him into the farthest corner of the dusty shelves to make out against encyclopedias for an indeterminate amount of time definitely hadn’t been anywhere near enough.

So Neil Josten, The Exception, was not slated to enter Andrew’s apartment, but enter it he did, after a night of increasingly heated remarks exchanged at a back table of Eden’s, after enough time staring at each other as they sipped their drinks, surrounded by too many people. After Andrew had finally leaned in to whisper, “Follow me.”

When Andrew went to retrieve his coat, it was with Neil’s too-warm, staticky presence at his back, electrifying Andrew’s step into the parking lot. Neil’s own quiet footsteps did not fade from behind him, like Andrew had hoped. And when Andrew unlocked the car and turned around to raise an eyebrow at him, Neil Josten merely raised an eyebrow back and smiled.

“Are you coming?”

“Hopefully,” Neil said, as he slid past Andrew towards the passenger side. As he had accepted being pulled back into a hard kiss for a little too long.

A short car ride later, Neil was being pulled into Andrew’s apartment in a similar manner, only, instead of moving with any kind of poise, Andrew stepped backward into his apartment, beginning to strip Neil’s jacket off and — promptly fell over Sir Fatcat McCatterson.

Sir howled like she was being killed and shot under the couch. And the traitor Neil Josten, standing in Andrew’s doorway, staring down at a sprawled-out Andrew, laughed.

“You’re a menace,” said Andrew, as Sir crept back out to sniff at his nose, and he wasn’t sure whether he meant her or his visitor. “She isn’t even my fucking cat.”

Neil looked around at the feathered catnip toys scattered around the living room and raised an eyebrow. “Cat sitting?”

“Uninvited occupant.” Andrew sat up and gently shoved away the white fluff ball, and curiously, impossibly, Neil went down on a knee to hold out a finger, and Sir ran to him like he was the one returning home.

“What’s your name?” Neil murmured in a soft voice that Andrew had never heard before, and abruptly, Andrew remembered that she did not in fact have a name he wanted to tell anyone, much less a…something. A fuckbuddy. An Exception.

But Sir was purring like a fucking motorboat, rubbing her face all over Neil’s hands, and Neil was smiling as she balanced herself on his knee to sniff his nose, too. And Andrew chewed back something budding in his chest at his cat being stupidly clingy to…whatever Neil was…and said, “Sir.”

“Sir?” Neil looked at him.

“’s her name,” Andrew muttered, then, quieter, “Sir Fat Cat McCatterson.”

Neil took the invitation Sir was giving him and buried his face into her back, but Andrew couldn’t miss the glimpse of lips pressed together over a grin, or the shaking of his shoulders.

“I didn’t name her,” Andrew said, and ignored just how similar his tone sounded to Aaron’s sullen one. “My cousin did. She doesn’t have another name.”

“It’s a great name,” Neil said a little too earnestly to Sir as he emerged from her fluff, scratching behind her ears and sinking his fingers into her ruff. She purred agreeably and licked his chin.

“Shall I leave you alone with the cat?” Andrew shoved to his feet and tossed his keys towards the entryway table, shucking his coat off onto the back of the couch.

Neil looked up, rising to his feet to toe off his shoes with a smirk. “She’s not what I came for.”

“Good,” Andrew said, and tugged on his wrist to lead him towards the bedroom.

***

Neil Josten was supposed to be An Exception, not A Regularity. Not A New Staple of Andrew’s life. He wasn’t supposed to be a number in Andrew’s phone to text, wasn’t supposed to be an ‘are you free’ away from showing up on Andrew’s doorstep. And he wasn’t supposed to be a welcome, familiar sight on Andrew’s couch — Sir curled in his lap, her eyes slits, her approval of his presence loud enough to deafen.

Andrew definitely wasn’t supposed to carefully shift his greedy cat away across the couch so that he could slot himself between Neil’s legs to try and kiss away whatever the fuck had him feeling so warm at seeing Neil there.

“Who made you Cat God,” he murmured against Neil’s lips when Sir growled her displeasure at being unseated from Neil’s lap.

“Guess your cat just loves me,” Neil mumbled into his mouth, gathering fabric at Andrew’s shoulder with one hand as he pressed closer. Only…Neil’s other arm crept around Andrew’s body, but his hand was mysteriously absent as Sir’s angry meows cut off.

Andrew broke away and turned to find Neil’s other hand occupied with stroking Sir’s head.

“You really only use me for my cat, don’t you?”

“If it helps, you’re a welcome bonus,” Neil grinned, stretching to try and capture Andrew’s lips again.

Andrew pressed a hand over his mouth instead. “Get your own pet. Sir is mine.”

Neil raised a challenging eyebrow. “Last I heard, she was an uninvited occupant.”

And you weren’t supposed to look so right in my apartment, Andrew didn’t say, just sat back on his heels to pull his cat onto Neil’s chest where he could try to recapture her attention. It worked, kind of. She was half distracted by Neil’s hair being in grooming distance, but she let Andrew scratch under her chin and gave him an appeased look.

“If I got a cat…would you come with me to pick it out?”

Andrew stopped scratching.

“And figure out a name,” Neil mused, smoothing back Sir’s whiskers. “After all, we can’t have you completely showing them up with your name, Sir, can we?”

“I didn’t name her,” Andrew said again, but he was buzzing.

Helping Neil choose a cat. So that was…acceptable to do. Naming it.

“What do you think, Andrew?”

And Neil was right there, peering up at him through thick fur, with a small smile.

“Yes,” Andrew said.

***

King Fluffkins did not last long in Neil’s apartment. He didn’t seem to like how empty it was — much like Neil, he much preferred taking up permanent occupancy in Andrew’s bed, next to Sir.

And Andrew…he’d picked up three strays, perhaps. Hadn’t asked for them, hadn’t planned for them. They’d moved into his life and his home in a whirl of moving boxes that emptied into cat-box-forts and armchairs that turned into cat-bed-holders and bookshelves that became cat-toy-hiding-places.

But Sir, King, Neil — those three strays were his.

-

you can find more aftg fics on my ao3!

[korissideblog]

So! I decided I wanted to info dump about my bby, and I’m gonna do it here. Consider this a living document, cause ill be editing new questions and answers as they come in <3 if you have any more questions just comment them (or ask on anon if you want, I’ll answer both here and there)

Question from: @bobittybob20276

while Aito tries to train like the rest of her classmates (though sparring) his quirk really isn’t a fighting quirk, so yeah, most of her training happens out in the wild. He mostly trains on his classmates and teachers, but will occasionally go out of the school and try to charm random people she bumps into ;) . she continues his training after graduation, and keeps getting better and better the longer she’s in the field.

Question by: @zedthebuggy

kinda a tough question here, lemme try to explain how Aito’s quirk works; so pretty much it’s not really Aito’s gaze that makes it work, like his pupil doesn’t have to be trained on someone. His quirk works through her iris (the yellow bit). it looks normal most of the time, but when being used, it becomes wildly complicated, confusing the eye of her target and scrambling their brain a bit. pretty much, the brain normally simplifies everything so our eyes can kinda take shortcuts and let us quickly take in as much info as possible, but Aito’s irises are so overly complicated that the target’s brain is forced to focus excessively on them to keep up, making them very suggestible. that’s why Aito has to speak his commands, so that the target’s brain confuses Aito‘s voice for it’s own command (and also why the target won’t do anything too complicated or out of character. if the brain thinks too hard about what it’s doing, it could fall out of Aito’s control) his quirk would be better described as a sensory overload, but without the panic or any negative feelings. It actually feels rather nice to be charmed, like being a hot room with a cool fan blowing in your face, or drinking a warm drink in the snow. Very positive, yet opposity feelings at once if that makes sense

(side note, when Aito gets older, she can control when his quirk is “turned on” but while she’s in UA, it just constantly on all of the time, hence his choice in hairstyle)

so! To answer your question, if someone doesn’t know about Aito’s quirk, they have 0 clue that they’re being charmed, and will have 0 memory of whatever they do when charmed. If someone does know about her quirk though, their brain will recognize the feeling and will be able to combat it (she can still be pretty effective, but he still has to work harder for it) if someone knows about the quirk, their vision will get a bit darkend around the corners and may see quick flashes of darkness as their brain kicks off to focus on Aito’s irises. it takes a lot of willpower to fight Aito’s charms- or, just a very very simplified vision, like Aito’s mama has (if someone asks, I’ll talk later about Guadelupe’s vision, it’s actually pretty interesting) (side note again, if someone tires to fight her charm, it could leave them with a gentle headache <3)

and FINALLY Aito’s quirk doesn’t require her to physically see, as long as her target can see her, it works :)

Question by: @gatortopia

Aito decided to become a hero because… he’s perfect! And he wants everyone to know how perfect she is!! And everyone thinks heros are perfect!!! And soon EVERYONE will see how PERFECT he is!!!!!!!

(side notie <3)

when Aito’s father left them, he was cemented in Aito’s brain as someone who couldn’t see how perfect he was. Aito just wants to be seen by her father, but because he doesn’t know who he is, he assumed that the only way to get the man’s attention was to prove how perfect she can really be, and the only way she could figure out how to do that is by becoming a hero.

after he gets her license, he immediately starts heroing like others do, with big fights and capturing villains and saving people… but… that really didn’t work for her. No matter how strong or fast or clever she was, he couldn’t match up to his peers in the heroing world.her quirk just wasn’t made for that kinda work. He took some time off to figure himself out, and after a bit of time (and a lot of conversations with Michi, both professional and personal) he finally figured out that his best place to work was behind the scenes, collecting information and going undercover in villain hangouts and social events. he wears her support hero badge with pride. (and uhhh still sometimes helps with big fights and capturing villains and saving people. Hey! She spent good money on his hero suit! He’s gonna use it!!)

Question by: @ratty-memes

ooohhhh ok! This is the question I really wanna answer!!!

so! to clarify, Aito absolutely thinks he’s all that and a bag of chips, like even in the deep parts of her brain, she thinks he’s The Blueprint. I would almost describe her as narcissistic bordering on psychopathic. THE ONLY REASON I WOULDN’T DESCRIBE HER AS THIS THOUGH- is because of her reasoning

so- Aito was raised by his mama exclusively, and he thinks his mama hung the moon and painted the stars. Like she is a capital M capital B Mama’s Boy. He absolutely adores his mama and thinks she’s absolutely without flaw or defect. (She didn’t instill this in him, Guadelupe’s just a very nice lady and Aito was really messed up after his father left, so she clung to any semblance of a good parent she could find. (Even though he’s technically out of this stage already, and it’s much less pronounced, something similar happened when he met Sato. Guadelupe never dated after Aito’s father “because my mijo is the only person I’ll ever need” and because of that, Sato is the first positive male role model in his life. Most of his acting out actually is a product of wanting to keep Sato’s attention on him, and to subconsciously keep him from leaving like his father did))

Aito’s brain pretty much went “ok, my mama is Absolutely And Positively Perfect… and she really really loves me… she wouldn’t love a kid with flaws… so I must also be perfect!!” And that’s why she thinks she’s all that! She thinks his perfection is as obvious as the sky being blue, and his want for validation just his way of checking out the window and seeing the color or they sky. they sky is blue, and everyone knows that, and Aito is perfect, and everyone should know that!!

Question by: @cosmic-goof

you only get repercussions if you’re caught ;)

but also she’s promised multiple people that she won’t steal from strangers. In the classroom setting, people know that when your wallet or your ID card or your phone go missing, you should talk to Aito before you do anything else, strangers don’t know that, so whatever she takes is for keeps. He really doesn’t like keeping things from people as much as he just likes the act of pick pocketing, so if someone asks for their item back, Aito will immediately return it and will probably explain how and when he took it if they let him. only problem is, you obviously can’t do this with strangers, so instead she does other things, like asks them for a harmless favor that someone would never do for a stranger (“hey there, can you help me move tomorrow?” “Hi! Do you mind if I take your picture?” “Hello sir! can I look through your phone for a sec?”)

Question by: @cosmic-goof

at the moment, it’s usually an adult who knows about her quirk and tries very hard not to be charmed (think sato). she can still charm adults obviously, but it’s a bit harder to do bc she’s just a little baby. maybe when she trains more she’ll get stronger, but at the moment, that’s her limit (sorry if this is a weird answer, willpower doesn’t exactly come in like a points system irl, so I can’t be like “7 willpower!” yk?)

Question by: @glitchviper

I talked about this before with Rin’s blind eye (something I’ll probably add here) but being blind in one eye wouldn’t stop Aito’s quirk (as long as you look at her with your non-blind eye, you can still be charmed, hence why when looking at Aito with only her blind eye, Rin wasn’t charmed)

the only was to not be charmed by Aito is to just not see her eyes, so total blindness or some kind of visual abnormality (like her mama has. somebody PLEASE ask me about Lup’s eyes. I have diagrams) but! if a person is seeing, but can’t hear Aito (be it because of deafness, or some issues in the environment like loud noises or earmuffs) a person can be charmed, but cannot be commanded <3

((p.s. I’ll be talking a lot about blindness or other disabilities while discussing Aito’s quirk, but if I say or display any ableist language or sympathies, please know it’s out of ignorance and not malice, and correct me when you can.))

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

Across the Universe II (Paul McCartney x Female!Reader)

Find Part One Here

A/N: I just checked chapter 1 and I literally put it up over a year ago. Shit. I just wrote a part 2, and finally got ahold of a computer to post it. I hope you's enjoy it. my last chapter had like... 20 likes altogether, so hopefully this chapter will draw some readers in.

Summary: Paul makes it to the Princeton campus where he not only reunites with his cousin Vick, but he meets a fellow stoner named Max. From there, the boys indulge in some Ivy League Hospitality.

WARNINGS: Drinking, swearing, smoking psychoactive substances (Cannabis), just dumb college guys doing dumb college shit. also, it's probably got mistakes bc I suck at revising

This is just a statement clearing up that none of these characters are mine except for Vick. Everyone else belongs to those who were involved in and/or collaborated with Julie Taymor in making the Across The Universe film (2007)

I'll rate this one a T seeing as the substance use isn't THAT bad.

"Vick Hoffner?"

"Try across the way, man. I think there's a Vick of sorts there."

Paul simply nodded at the stranger before turning on his heel and making a beeline to the next apartment, his hands fiddling with his useless book of contacts.

What was the point of giving me your number if you won't even pick up the phone?

He sighed, and rubbed his eyes tiredly with the palm of his hand. He'd been hitchhiking for two days just to get to the Princeton Campus, and then a few hours going through the closest rented apartments to locate him.

This was apartment number 9.

And it was nearing one AM.

Paul rapped weakly at the door, silently concluding that this would be the last place to check before finding somewhere to sleep until the next morning.

The door swung open, and Paul was face-to-face with this college kid who seemed to be about his age. He had unkempt blonde hair that curled around his ears, patchy stubble, and big blue eyes hazed over with the red assault of cannabis in his system.

Despite this, and the nearly empty beer bottle in his hand, the guy looked like he was keeping it together pretty well.

Paul cleared his throat, and raised an eyebrow. "... Vick Hoffner?"

"Nah, man. He's out at the moment gettin' drinks," the guy paused, and looked at Paul for a moment.

"Hey, hold on, you're not... Vick's cousin, are you?"

"Would it be an issue?" Paul asked sarcastically, to which the other guy responded after a laugh, "Nah. I just can't wait for him to get back and find out you got the better looks."

Paul just rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips. "Probably don't matter. He's the brains n' so is me brother. 'S what really matters; though I take pride in this thing." Paul pointed teasingly at his face.

The other guy smiled, pulling two cigarettes from behind his ear. He offered one to Paul, and he claimed the other. He lit the both of their cigs, and they each took a long drag after Paul scanned the apartment hallway for any angry tenants who happened to be against smoking indoors.

"So... does Vick's "pretty boy" cousin have a name?"

Paul nodded like the fact that he had a name was astounding information, but he smiled genuinely before bringing the cigarette back to his lips. "It's Paul."

"Max," The blond shoved his hand out, and the boys shook hands firmly. Max eyed Paul again."Where's that accent from, Paul?"

"Same place as me," Paul answered as he shoved his free hand in his pocket, blowing out smoke a moment after. "Liverpool."

"But why come to America?" Max gestured Paul into the apartment as he spoke, closing the door behind them. "Kill someone? Were you on the run from the cops? FBI?"

"'Sounds like you'd be one to know 'bout all of that." The boys took a seat on the couch in the centre of the room as their cigarettes slowly burned away as they chatted.

"Hey, hey, I've barely ever been in trouble with the cops, but I have pissed off every professor in Princeton, and have broken several campus windows."

" 'nd... you're proud of it?"

"I'm an adrenaline junkie, what can I say? Smashed nearly forty five windows and despite being Princeton's number one vandalidm suspect, I'm still not expelled. Y'know why?" Paul leaned in a little, enough to catch the dank scent of weed, and Max lowered his voice. "... because they can never prove it's me."

" 'nd why is that?"

The answer to Paul's question burst right through the apartment door.

"There's three more of us, and it could be any of them!" One of which, Paul could surprisingly recognize.

"Vick. Long time no see," Paul rose to his feet, and Vick, who'd set a six-pack of beer on the coffee table between them, greeted his cousin with a friendly hug and some "how are you"s.

Despite being an intelligent young man, Paul noticed that Vick behaved a little less like how he used to: polite, conservative, and proper. It was suspected that his behaviour changed because his newfound freedom at Uni allowed him to experience and access things that he would have been otherwise restricted from when he was younger.

Booze was one of them.

Dope was another.

In fact, he wordlessly cracked open a beer for Paul, and handed it to him like he'd asked for a drink in the first place.

Paul wasn't a huge drinker. It was never a vice of his, or anything like that either. He got shitfaced every once in a while for fun.

But when he brought that aluminum can up to his lips, Paul would never have guessed that it would have led to the night it did.

Five minutes after Vick and his buddies returned, Max brought out the roach Paul suspected he was sucking on before he got there.

With enthusiastic cheers from around the room, Max lit the sucker up, took a nice drag from the hot remainders of the joint, and passed it on to Paul.

Paul looked at the roach, almost as if he was confused. No one had asked him if he'd ever smoked before, but Max and the others yelled hurriedly over top of one another, instructing for Paul to suck in quickly and hold the smoke in for as long as he could.

It resulted in a coughing fit, and encouraging pats on the back from the other guys. Vick ended up taking the roach next, and Max reached out across the table.

"Have another one of these, my friend," he slid over another beer after cracking it open just moments before, despite the fact that Paul wasn't quite finished his first drink.

"Y'know, the more you cough, the higher you get? Pretty fucking sick. Like a win-win, man. You don't cough: You're high. You cough: You're super high."

As time went on, and Paul nursed his second drink more responsibly than the first one, things, ironically, started making less and less sense to him.

At one point, he was talking to the guy sitting across from him, and he just stopped talking for a whole ten seconds before turning to Max and asking "what the fuck was I just talking about?"

"Who fucking knows." The blond's shoulders shook as he tried suppressing his laughs, but eventually Paul just burst out into laughs and uncontrollable tears.

And everyone followed suit.

He had absolutely no idea how he got there, or how long he'd been there for, but sitting before Paul were now two empty Tankards. A waitress just set down another to him, and collected the table's empty glasses.

They were in a bar.

Max sat beside Paul as he watched Vick spectate the other two guys play pool.

For the life of him, Paul couldn't remember those guys' names, despite knowing he was told multiple times in the last few hours. To be fair, being drunk and stoned is a perfectly reasonable explanation as to how one forgets another's name. He supposed it didn't exactly matter, anyways.

"So, you got any hot sisters abroad I should know about?" Paul gave Max a funny look  but it may have been because it took so long for Paul's brain to register what had been asked.

"... No. Do you?"

"I've got two younger sisters; one's eight, and the older one's a little on the uglier side," though he didn't say it, Max's little smile indicated to Paul that he was joking about the last comment.

Paul and Max watched the boys play pool a little longer until the eight ball was pocketed.

"Wanna play?" Paul's head snapped to his left, and he nodded at Max's offer.

The other guys traded off, and Vick continued spectating. Max made the first break, and Paul watched as the cue ball rolled right into one of the pockets. Well, it seemed to have been only him to notice, because Max's eyes were instead trained on a brunette woman passing the two.

She looked over her shoulder to wink at Max, and rather than gouging his reaction, she simply walked off and took a seat alone in the corner of the bar.

"Do you believe in love at first sight, McCartney?"

"Well, I'm sure that it 'appens all the time. Never 'appened to me, personally."

"You just need to find the right one, my friend.." Max trailed off again, eyes still locked on the bird in the corner. He was slowly inching from the table and toward her. Max eventually just set the cue on the table and completely abandoned their game to talk to this girl, who flashed him a flirty smile with her bright white teeth and painted lips.

Paul watched Max amusedly, taking a swig from his beer and memorizing the moves Max was putting on his lady friend, who was clearly enjoying his company.

Maybe Paul wanted to get better at approaching certain women. He knew how to flirt, and be charming. It's not like he'd never had girlfriends. He'd had his fair share of girls in his teenage years, and he had Molly now back in Liverpool.

But Paul, at this moment, in his crossfaded brain, realized that he didn't want to attract the women he had been anymore. Just from her visual appearance, and how she was reacting to Max's charming flirts, Paul could sense an airiness to her personality. She was always smiling, inching closer, initiating physical contact by nudging his hand with her own, the list goes on.

Hell, even on her happiest days, Molly would be reluctant to kiss Paul, but he'd excuse her behaviour because she was just a regularly bitchy person who hated public displays of affection.

Or hardly any affection at all, it seemed.

Needless to say, Max returned to the table five minutes later with a phone number and a big red lipstick stain on his cheek. So to celebrate, the gang decided to go golfing.

"Here she is, Window Way," Max introduced Paul to the roof of their apartment building. The other boys started giggling at the name "Window Way". Each guy had their own club, Max held a bag of golf balls, and Vick carried another six pack.

Max set his things down and took in the crisp night air as Vick opened yet another beer for each of the boys. Max took a can for him, and one for Paul, and proceeded to show his new buddy just why he called it "Window Way".

"A Driver will send a ball..." Max pointed his arm straight out in front of him, his finger pointing right towards the windows of the Princeton Campus library.

"...Straight towards the school," Paul finished. He turned to look at Max. "You guys do this every night?"

"Paul, I do this all day. I barely go to class anymore."

"Hey, Max! You tee first!" One of the nameless guys called out to them. Max brandished the widest of grins before rushing to grab his club, a ball, and a green tee from his pocket. "Hey, Paulie, wanna help me out by holding my tee up?"

"Well, how'd I do that without gettin' hit?"

The other boys started laughing again, and Paul was genuinely confused until he found himself lying on his back seconds later, and the bottom of the tee between his lips, which only got heavier when Max set the ball down onto it.

If he were sober in this moment, Paul would not have been this comfortable with someone swinging a golf club full force towards his head and then trust their judgement regardless of their in intoxicity that they'd hit their target...

It was a good thing Max had been doing this for a long time, because wow, did that ball ever fly.

Paul watched in stoned disbelief as the ball soared far off into the distance and over the roof of the library. And while no one had seen it, they certainly heard the shatter from the other side of the building.

And that's when all five boys ran away from administration retired back to their room to light up a new joint Vick had also brought home as a surprise. They all sat around and lazily talked to one another about how crazy Max's shot was, and while some of them were falling in and out of sleep, Max insisted they all stay up to watch the sky change colour from the courtyard.

Paul didn't know how he stayed up any longer than he did, but he pulled through like a trooper, and they all watched the sky change as they lay down in the fallen leaves. But as soon as they all came back to their room for a final time, Paul dragged himself in exhaustion to the living room chair to sit, but he just slipped out of it onto the floor, and that's when his body decided to turn off on its own.

The other guys dropped to the ground or onto the furniture like dead flies, and within ten seconds of the door closing, the room was quiet.

And it stayed like that for nearly ten hours.

Paul woke up that evening with a raging headache and multiple trips to the bathroom to be sick, but now three things were certain for him: He definitely had one hell of a time, he definitely wanted to hang out with Max a lot more, and that evening Paul definitely got by with a little help from his new friends.

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

A/A/N: alrighty, if this chapter doesn't do too too bad, I'll see about continuing this story. I've got chapter 3 pretty much done as well, I'm just in the midst of revising it. If you want more, by all means, PLEASE let me know!

[myelocin]

like natural gold | bokuto koutarou

synopsis: in which you walk home down familiar streets, thinking of running a familiar routine to wind down to, but instead find someone unfamiliar. someone with monochrome hair, golden eyes, and an honest smile. 

characters: bokuto koutarou, you

genre/tags: fluff, domestic stuff lmao, petowner!reader

wc: 1.2k+

a/n: man i really clowned myself today. this is req #17 for stories in passing that i turned into a oneshot instead bc i accidentally deleted the whole file for the next batch. (this is for bokuto anon) 

-

The walk home was slow, you noticed.

A welcome change, none the less, considering the hectic atmosphere your schedule filled you with for the past few weeks.

You see them before they see you as you round the corner of a familiar street and start to trek the last few meters to your front door. Your friend, glances at you almost immediately though; something you ought to give her credit for—she always had a sixth sense when it came to noticing your presence.

If it was a good or bad thing, you can’t say. A quirk’s a quirk, you muse. Though, in this case, the situation she found herself in seemed almost comical. She’s standing, almost awkwardly, beside your dog who’s facing a man—crouched down and looking to be in an animated conversation (if you could call it as such) with him.

You snorted when she looked almost relieved when you drew closer. She kind of looked like a third wheel to the two of them. But in a way, you can’t blame the stranger. Your dog had always had a charm of his own—his energy drew those from the same wavelength.

“I was gonna go take him out for a walk,” your friend called out to which you smiled at.

“I can take it from here, thanks for watching him,” you reply, waving her off when she looks even more relieved. You roll your eyes as she mouths call me, with her eyes darting between you and the stranger (still crouched) in front of your dog.

You knew that look. And apparently she did too when your gaze towards him didn’t fly past her.

Then again, who would blame you? The stranger looked well built—even from the awkward position he was in, and the fact that your dog was already comfortable with him spoke volumes by your definition.

The monochrome black and white hair was an interesting feature, and so were the wide set of golden eyes he peered at him with—but somehow it fit. Last time you checked, solid gold was an unnatural eye color, but the stranger had a flair for making it look flawless.

Your dog notices you fairly quickly, though, automatically turning from him and facing you as you crouch down in a position similar to his and hold your palm out for him to nuzzle into.

“Hi,” you coo. He doesn’t say anything—expected, but his snout pushing against your palm was as much of a hello as a verbal one.

“Hi,” a voice across you replies, and if you didn’t have a good sense of balance, you would have tipped over. Right, you remember, he’s still here.

Looking forward and up, you notice the width of his smile and crinkle of his eyes before you process the greeting. He had a little halo behind him. Pretty, is a word that fits, but you don’t say that and smile at him instead.

“Hi,” you say again as you take the hand he offers to help you up. “(Y/n), the owner.”

“Bokuto Koutarou,” he replies, shaking your hand. It’s firm and precise, you notice; much like the handshakes you’re offered when you’ve closed a deal at work. For someone who smiled so freely—the grip in his hand told you there was more to him than just silly smiles and golden eyes.

“He’s really approachable,” he tells you. You smile.  “Yeah, he knows when to pick out the good ones,” you laugh. He beams at your comment, and leans down to pat his head again, so you can’t help but match his enthusiasm.

“New to the neighborhood?” you ask, and shakes his head no, still smiling.

“I’m from this neighborhood, but I’m home for a few months. Off season,” he explains and you nod your head.

“Ahh, I just moved in last month, so between us, I’m technically the new one here.”

“That’s a way to put it,” he laughs. The ends of your lip quirk up almost automatically you notice. Happiness was contagious, they said; they’re right, you conclude.

“I can watch him for you if you’d like; I’m home for the next couple of months anyway,” he offers, looking at you with an honest smile.

“We’ll see,” you laugh. “You’re not working from home?”

“Nah, off season, so coach gave us a couple months to rest.”

He picks up on your expression before you could articulate your thoughts, so he speaks again, “I’m playing for MSBY.”

You still stare back at him and let some seconds pass before he takes your silence as an answer and explains, “Volleyball.”

In a comical scenario, this would have been the part where a lightbulb were to ding above your head, but it isn’t—and in real life, you’re standing across a boy who looked to be more observant than you give him credit for, so you say, “Ah, don’t know much about it, sorry,” and offer a smile as consolation.

“I can always teach you,” he suggests.

“We’ll see,” you tell him again, repeating your words from some moments ago.

“It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to play if you don’t want to. I can just show you. I’m the ace after all.”

7PM was a nice part of your day. There was something about the relaxed pace on the walk home, and the neighborhood streets looking as busy in the mornings, and the general atmosphere of unwinding evident in the air. The sun’s dipped a little lower in the horizon by now, the tips just barely peeking as the golden hour shifts into a dark blue—but it’s the gentle hum of a television show drifting from an open window, and the thought of coming home, settling in, and reminiscing about your day that gives you all sorts of the domestic butterflies.

Bokuto Koutarou looked like he was right in place. Usually by now, you’d be halfway through the first show your TV has prerecorded earlier that day, and maybe on your second helping of dinner, but this was nice.

Sitting outside your home with your dog nestled between the two of you as you listened to him talk about nothing in the particular felt familiar to you. The way he’d occasionally shift and lean down to pat him on the head, and the way you’d give him a high five after a particularly witty comment felt almost like second nature to you.

He fit right in, you think.

Bokuto Koutarou with his monochrome hair, golden eyes, and extroverted personality fit right in despite the contrast of your usually quiet unwinding.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you around,” he says when the streetlights finally flicker on and he’s turned his heel to walk to the house conveniently right across yours.

“Yeah,” you wave, smiling. Me too, you finish in your thoughts as you turn and fit the key into the lock.

You’ve made it one step in the house, the room still quiet and lights still shut. You know that if you turn them on now, the first thing you’d most likely see was the photo wall you made with your friends. A compilation of all the impromptu travels and late night food trips. Good memories, you think. A part of home.

The house still sits in silence, save for your dog running to the kitchen, probably searching for his bowl of water, the pads of his feet audible on the wooden floors when your phone lights up with a text.

It’s from Bokuto, you notice, and it’s just a selfie he took with your dog earlier.

You smile. 

You flick the lights on and walk to the kitchen where your dog looks at you, fur a little wet from the water he must have drank. You show him the photo Bokuto sent you and smile again when he barks, recognizing the stranger he bonded with earlier. 

You could get used to this, you think. 

Your usual schedule may have shifted a little, but still, in a way, it kind of feels like coming home.

-

[reidology]

WIP tag: tagged by @thefandomlesbian thank you ily!!!!

this was so funny to me bc i haven’t touched these in... over a month. don’t expect anything soon lol

Runway AU - Penelope get’s the whole team to join an FBI charity event - a fashion competition show! Lot’s of sexy outfits, sexy people, and sexy times. Here’s a preview. Yes I’ve been working on this for months, no it won’t be done soon.

Hamilton AU - They meet at the Winter’s Ball, Aaron saddles up to Spencer standing in the corner reading. They hit it off but Spencer panics and introduces Aaron to Haley, his sister and best friend. Aaron and Spencer’s fondness for each other grows exponentially; if Aaron marries Haley he could keep Spencer in his life. As Aaron climbs the ranks of the government his marriage begins to crumble, and he recognizes his feelings for Spencer. Unfortunately, during this time Spencer had moved to London to pursue an academic career, their longing for each other grows and the letters they exchange get more desperate. Spencer comes back home to visit Aaron, he doesn’t tell Haley. Aaron goes on a ‘business trip’. They stay at the Inn. Mood-board

Dying in a bathtub - Aaron get’s horrible nightmares. It’s nothing new, but now he’s waking up in the bathtub each night. There’s a reason why but Aaron isn’t ready to admit it to himself, much less Spencer. So instead of pressuring him, Spencer begins to put pillows and blankets in the tub before they go to bed, so that Aaron doesn’t get hurt. They end up cuddling in the bathtub fort <3 Preview  Mood-board

God I wish that was me -  After a long case, the team is living it up at a bar. Hotch and Spencer, exhausted and not ones for dirty dancing and alcohol poisoning, stay at the booth and ogle a gay couple being cutesy in a bar. After sighing wistfully they both go ‘God I wish that was me’ and have a whole ‘what did you just say?’ intense eye contact moment. Needless to say they do not go home alone that night :)

Did you hang up? - Just smut. Hotch and Spencer are getting it on in bed, full on rough moaning scratching ‘daddy’ fucking when Spencer’s phone rings super loudly! It’s really annoying and ruining the mood so Spencer reaches to hang up but unbeknownst to him... he accidentally answers it. 

“Did you hang up?”

“Yeah”, Reid's voice hitched on a moan. 

“God I wish you could see yourself like this, you look so pretty with my hand around your throat.”

He nips at his jaw, eliciting a broken moan from the man below him, “you’re so good for me baby boy.”

Basically Hotch says and does anything that could scar Derek for life. Derek can’t look Reid in the eye for weeks. 

Hotch... left? - Spencer is in prison, high out of his mind. He keeps hallucinating Hotch because he needs him to be here right now. He needs Hotch. Even after he comes down, he keeps begging for Hotch to come back, he just wants to see him one more time, just to say goodbye. Luke is there for him, helps him through everything from getting him back to the States to protecting him in prison. Ends in Ralvez.

Sean/Spencer/Aaron - Hotch and Haley separate and he has nowhere to go but his brother’s place. He’s shocked to find out that Spencer and Sean were practically living together. He had known about a hookup and an awkward coffee date, but Spencer and his little brother in a relationship? Doesn’t feel right. Hotch is at his wit’s end, having to endure hearing them fuck almost every night. Loudly. Maybe this is all part of Reid’s cunning plan to make Hotch jealous. Lot’s of credit goes to @xogublerxo for this one

Shipwreck - After Hankel, Spencer is agoraphobic. It affects every moment of his life. Aaron helps him get back on his feet. 

Spencer has always been somewhat of an anxious guy. Overthinking ‘simple’ interactions, having to know each step and each possible outcome of a situation before it happens, fearing meeting new people, fearing being seen. Growing up, he was no stranger to panic attacks, but he learned to manage it in his own way. He didn’t get help, he didn’t really think he needed it anyway, afterall, he takes care of his schizophrenic mother day in and day out, he can take care of himself. Others just see him as odd, standoffish maybe, but that’s just a part of who he is. So, Spencer adapted, learned to navigate a stranger’s ship with his own, homemade sails. They’d been ripped apart and stitched back together more times than he cares to count, but regardless, Spencer managed.

He managed and he improvised his way to the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, where he quickly learned that he could have a purpose. But most importantly, this is where he found what he’d always been looking for, a support system. A team he didn’t feel judged by, who valued his contributions and never put him down for his quirks or his unique mannerisms. The BAU lifted a dark cloud from his head and opened up new horizons, Spencer could finally breathe. Plank by plank, Spencer began to build his own ship. Walking into a police station, surrounded by new people, competitive authority, monsters, and more had never felt so natural. Yes, Spencer still had days where he needed to psych himself up to deliver a profile, to ask a detective about the crime scene, to interrogate a witness, or even just to get up in the morning. But overall, life was looking up. Friends, job, purpose; he was starting to have it all. 

Then Tobias Hankel happened. And Spencer’s ship crashed. 

Therapy - Reid and Hotch meet at a formal FBI function. When Gideon introduces them, their reactions were practically instantaneous, Hotch thought Reid was too young and pretentious, using his genius as his only personality. He wasn’t impressed, so the kid has a good memory? That doesn’t equal skill or intelligence. Spencer’s first thought was alpha male. Also known as competitive and arrogant. Hotchner did not smile once during their conversation and sneered when he turned down a handshake. The way he spoke was curt and dry, he was a hardass. One month later Spencer found himself standing in a bullpen, surrounded by his new coworkers. Looking through the slats of his office window was Aaron Hotchner, livid that Gideon had let this kid join the team. Their interactions are strained, both emanating hatred for the other. Then, they meet each other all over again at group therapy, where they’re forced to learn each other’s darkest secrets. Hate-fucking ensues.

Secret Admirer - Hotch starts getting anonymous letters on his desk. Some are mundane, talking about their day, telling Hotch to drink more water. Some are more desperate ‘you could never see me the way I see you’. Hotch has a pretty good idea of who it is, but he’s scared shitless of what it would mean in he reciprocated.

Secret Admirer 2.0 - Inspired by a Peterick fic I read once. Spencer is broken. He searches for purpose at a bdsm club where he gets blindfolded and displayed for everyone to see. Hotch finds him kneeling in a showroom and can’t resist... He masks his voice and makes Reid keep the blindfold on. It was only meant to be one time, but Spencer needs more and Hotch is weak. Spencer never knows that it’s Hotch and Hotch hopes he never finds out.

I kind of want to see this with roles reversed, but I’ll never write this bc it’s too advanced for me lol.

Quiet Cuddles part ?? - It’s a relaxed rainy evening, Hotch’s head is in Spencer’s lap, arms wrapped around the younger’s midsection, knees bent up and nose pressed to Spencer’s tummy. Lots of head kissing and gently fingers running through unkempt hair.

Night at JJ’s - Spencer spends the night at JJ’s with a huge tub of ice cream and 5 blankets. He confesses about who Ethan really was to him, from high school to college to New Orleans. He cries about Hotch leaving him because of Foyet. Sad and feelings. 

What the BAU does in the shadows - What we do in the shadows but BAU edition. Self-explanatory. Vampires. Haven’t really started it yet. Think about it all the time. 

The one where Spencer fakes his death instead of Emily - Every one thinks Spencer is dead, including Hotch and JJ. The only one who knows the truth is Strauss, and she’ll take that secret to her grave, no matter how hard Spencer tries to come back.

i tag: @xogublerxo (plsssss talk about it 🥺) @hotchreidd @garcias-bitch @goobzoop @tobias-hankel and anyone else who wants to do it, no pressure at all guys! (except mia, lots of pressure) 

[cheryyori]

Red Thread - P. SH AU

pairing(s): seonghwa/oc

genre: social media au, fluff, angst, strangers to lovers au, college au, fantasty elements, past life/ reincarnation au, fated lovers au, playboy!seonghwa, hwa is a bit of a dick at first, sumi is still a nervous baby like in the sk8terboy au, lots of pinning on hwa’s end later on bc i’m soft

summary: Park Seonghwa—business major, son of the CEO to Park Corp. and an overall cold-hearted playboy dickhead—has to help his father’s company by finding a new graphic designer, after firing the last one, for the company’s upcoming project he’s tasked to work on in order prepare him for the future (and maybe highkey work on his people skills). So when Yeosang mentions a particular graphic design student in mind, he wasn’t expecting his world to turn upside down by a red thread.

author’s note: Don’t @ me, I don’t know how to write but enjoy this train wreck okay.

MASTERLIST | MOODBOARD & PLAYLIST

01. strawberries and vanilla << | >>

The Aurora Cafe had always been a popular hangout spot in KQ University. Students of all age and majors frequent the cafe with its rich coffee and of course, it’s live performances from various musicians. Specifically the ones that are aspiring amateur musicians.

“Jongho, can you grab the beans from the shelves,” Hongjoong asked the young freshman. Jongho resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he sighed and left his position at the front register.

“Hyung, you do know we have a step ladder right?” The young teen asked. Hongjoong shrugged him off, his eyes on his phone.

“Yeah, but I have you and I’m your boss so you have to do what I say,” he muttered. Jongho only frowned in response before sighing as he tip-toed to reach for the bag of coffee beans that were resting on the top shelves.

“Hyung, I know you gave me this job, but please just use the step ladder next time,” Jongho said as he set the beans down on the counter next to him. Hongjoong merely waved him off, eyes still trailed on his phone for whatever reason. Seeing how Hongjoong won’t be paying attention to anything else other than his phone, Jongho went back to his spot at the front.

Today was surprisingly a slow day, for the cafe. This gave Jongho the opportunity to work on some homework before the small chime of the entrance bought his attention. Looking up, the freshman frowned at the person before him.

“Oh great, you again,” He rolled his eyes at the sight of Park Seonghwa. 

“Is that how you treat a paying patron?” Seonghwa raised a brow at the younger male.

“No, but you’re the exception,” Jongho replied, “So what? The usual strawberry frappe?” He shrugged off, putting in the order before Seonghwa could interrupt him. “Anything thing else?”

Seonghwa didn’t answer, rolling his eyes instead as he paid for his order. It was moments like this he wonders how Hongjoong manages to tolerate Jongho’s attitude.

He managed to find a seat away from most of the others inside the cafe, using their time to study in between classes. Seonghwa already had much on his plate considering that his father was a CEO after all and he was already spending much of his time working there despite still being in school. He used the calming atmosphere of the cafe to help him think.

He ignored the sound of the bell chiming as another person entered the cafe, sounds of a soft laughter following perked at his ears before he heard Jongho’s voice called out his name.

He stood up from his seat and made his way over, Jongho look at him annoyed as always as he placed the strawberry frappe on the counter, “Here,” he grumbled.

“I hope you didn’t spit in it,” Seonghwa mutters, eyeing the frappe in the younger’s hand. 

“That’s for you to find out,” Jongho smiles and Seonghwa bites back a snark remark, thinking he has better things to do than entertain the young teen. He was about to make his way back when he felt a small bump against his shoulder. His mind too preoccupied with his own thoughts that his grip on the frappe loosened as the frappe fell to the ground.

A sharp intake was heard from behind the counter, Jongho watching the scene unfold before him. The younger winced as he looked and saw that it was smaller girl, her form slightly hunched over as she stared at Seonghwa with wide eyes from behind those large round glasses. Jongho couldn’t help but pity her as he knew that Seonghwa was going to let out a snark remark now.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! God, I’m such an idiot!” She sputtered. Seonghwa was taking a moment to process what just happened. His eyes looked to meet the person that bumped into him, brows furrowed together and mouth parted slightly, ready to berate them only to pause.

His mind froze as he saw a small pout on her lips, quivering slightly as tears were in the corner of her eyes as she stood in place with hands close to her chest. He tried to speak, but his mind suddenly short circuited as she picked up the cup with a flushed face. For some reason, an odd sensation pricked at his chest as he stood up straight and glanced away from her. The light fluttering feeling was foreign to him as he felt suddenly nervous, something that rarely happened to him.

“U-um, I’ll buy you a replacement one-!” She spoke up suddenly.

“Wait, Sumire, you don’t have to do that, I can pay for it-” the other next to suddenly spoke up to try to stop her, but she was already making her way over to the register. Jongho was surprised as she stuttered out the order making him wonder if she was anxious or going through a whole nervous break, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was both. Her voice was soft as she continued to apologized for the inconvenience, something about the way she looked so small make Jongho’s heart melt.

He only gave her a small smile and nodded as she paid for the frappe, watching as she stood stiff in her place before Jongho returned. With a thanks she went over to Seonghwa and handed him the strawberry frappe. He slowly took it from her grasp, feeling a slight shock as their hands touched. He flinched slightly from the shock, but the girl remain neutral, as if the shock didn’t happen on her end. When he took it, he was about to speak when she suddenly turned to leave, her face completely red now.

“O-okay, sorry for making you drop your frappe! Bye!” She shouted before suddenly running out of the cafe. Her friend sighed as he followed behind her. Seonghwa watched, seeing the two from the window he sat at, as the girl and her friend were standing outside of the cafe, her from hunched over as she had her face in her hands while her hand patted her back in hopes of reassuring her.

Seonghwa only frowned in response, feeling another prick at his chest as he turned away and tried to focus on the work he had to do, but it suddenly became hard for him to focus on the words on his laptop as his mind kept drifting to the girl.

“Fuck,” he suddenly sighs as he pressed on hand against his forehead, leaning his forearms against the table.

It was only a few minutes later did her friend return inside the cafe and walked up to Jongho, “Can I have a latte and a vanilla frappe?” He softly mutters with hands in his pockets. Jongho could only nodded, putting the order in.

“Y-yeah, um...anything else?” he said. The other only only shook his head, ready to take his wallet out and pay.

“It’s on the house!” Hongjoong suddenly appeared, apparently he had saw the train wreck earlier and felt bad that the girl had to go through that experience.

“Really? Are you sure about that?” He asked, but Hongjoong waved him off as he went to make their drinks. It was only a couple of minutes later did he return with their drinks ready.

“It’s fine, just think of it as an apology for our...friend...” Hongjoong mutters before hand the other the drinks. The other merely raised a brow at Hongjoong before shrugging, taking the drinks as he mutters his thanks.

Seonghwa watched as he left from the corner of his eyes before glancing out the window as he saw the girl sitting on the bench, her face still in her hands before her friend appeared by her side and pressed her drink against the side of her face.

Even from where he sat, Seonghwa could still see the small pout on her lips as she took the frappe from the other, watching her nose suddenly scrunched up in annoyance at whatever her friend said before smacking his arm.

Cute, he thinks before slowly forcing himself to focus on his work. Unaware at how both Hongjoong and Jongho shared a glance at one another, interested and perplexed grins on their lips before busying themselves with work.

[notgonnarememberthis]

find your way (back to me) - chapter eight

Back at it again with another update cause I had to get this chapter down before it left my head. Honestly Em is a hero for giving me this idea bc I had stalled on the fic after Jessica’s escape. But because of their help I actually know a lot more than I even knew in the LAST CHAPTER much less as a whole. Loving the comments so ofc keep them coming cause i need validation.

The process of healing is frustratingly slow and Jessica finds herself lost in the cycle of sleeping, being questioned by officers, seeing Ainsley and occasionally Malcolm, and sleeping again. It’s a small comfort knowing that Malcolm, in all his determination is searching for the man behind all of this. Most of her though just wants him in the room with her, knowing he is safe.

The most frustrating, to her and investigators alike were her memories. She remembers the big picture. There was a wreck while she was traveling to a meeting for Eve’s charity. With the woman gone Jessica had preserved her legacy the best she could. The crash was unexpected. She’d checked Alphonso from the back seat already knowing he was dead. Two paramedics pulled her out of the car, put some kind of oxygen mask on her and she was out. Next came where it blurred. She was held in the dark by two men and they asked her to pick between her life or a stranger’s. No matter how many times she picked herself the other person would die. She was shot first, and then stabbed later.

She didn’t remember other conversations. Colette Swanson was the one to report to her what they found at the construction site. They found the room she was held in, two chairs bolted to the floor facing each other. They found the trail of blood where she had escaped. They found a young man matching the surveillance footage of the paramedic they’d found the day of the wreck. He was beaten to death, likely by his partner though the FBI agent didn’t expand on why.

She’s not shocked. Part of her knew this already.

What tears at her was they found no trace of the other killer nor Freddy in the vicinity. Gil tells her that no trace of blood should be a good thing.

It doesn’t feel like a good thing.

“Ms. Whitly.” She picks her head up from the spot she was staring at, smiling kindly at the doctor.

“Dr. Garcia, I hope you’re not planning to wheel me back for another surgery. Ainsley is getting off soon and she’s bringing Vionelli’s.” The surgeon chuckles warmly shaking her head. In the week she’s been stuck in the hospital Dr. Garcia had been a welcoming bright spot in her boring or traumatizing days. The day she chased away an officer who was getting a little too aggressive while questioning and insisting that she remembered. Waving a clipboard and getting in the face of an armed man, it was a sight that made her laugh no matter how much it hurt her side.

“Actually, I wanted to be the one to tell you that it’s looking like you could go home today.”

“Today?” She sits up a little, newfound energy overpowering the shot of pain that goes through her side at the movement.

“Your infection has cleared up and all of your baselines came through clear. Now you’ll come back in a week to remove the stitches and I want you taking it easy when walking. We’re going to send you home in a wheelchair.” Jessica must have made a face because the doctor gets serious, “I expect you to use it Ms. Whitly. Your physical therapy will be easier if you don’t push yourself too much. No alcohol or other supplements until you finish out your medication.” Jessica hesitates but nods. Anything that can get her past this as soon as possible she’ll agree to. “Well, in that case you might want to tell your daughter to bring a loose set of clothes and I’ll tell the nurses to get the paperwork drawn up.”

“Dr. Garcia?” Her question evades her as soon as she asks. Past conversations echo instead, The knife was two centimeters from nicking the femoral artery. The gunshot wound had been infected, but we caught it early. Your memory will return in time, it’s expected with the combination of anesthesia and your head injury. Yet, not once had the woman made the claim other doctors had. The one that she told herself, you got lucky. “Thank you.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After the text it’s Ainsley, Malcolm, and Gil who come to escort her home. It feels like a bittersweet celebration. None of them will let her stay alone, despite her protests and the 3 details they set up along the house. All help is dismissed until further notice, and her home has already been searched five times for any possible cameras or bugs hidden. Gil tried to insist her stay with her but couldn’t fight more when she pointed out that she’d get around easier in her own home than his small apartment.

They celebrate with Vionelli’s, as promised, and sitting at her own table with her family surrounding her almost feels normal. She longs for a drink but her children made sure that all alcohol was removed from the home the second they were told she could come home. For a few split seconds she allows herself to believe this is a normal day. That she doesn’t ache all over, that there aren't several patrols outside guarding each exit of her home, that she doesn’t have the details of 3 days blurred as if she’d taken a few too many pills.

Despite her protests the three of them create a system. Malcolm will stay with her tonight, Gil’s insistence as he hadn’t slept much in 3 days. Gil will switch him tomorrow, Ainsley after that. Even though she tried to deny their pushes, she’s secretly glad to have one of them with her. At least she can be assured one of them is safe at all times. 

Much to her dread, Gil and Ainsley eventually leave. They linger longer than they should. None of them really tired enough to stave off their personal demons from the night. Gil gives in when Colette calls, Ainsley long after he is gone but her own detail looks tired and she shouldn’t probably get home.

Jessica makes her way back to her own bedroom. The clothes Ainsley brought are comfortable enough that she can just slide right into bed. Her medicine is slowly dragging her under and she’s grateful for the peace that the familiar setting brings.

“Goodnight mom,” Malcolm smiles at her, the expression not quite matching the worry in his eyes.

“Love you Sunshine.” She says as gently as she can, inordinately calm against the threat of sleep. Her nightmares are no stranger to her. The nickname helps as she watches him relax, even if only slightly.

“Love you too.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Jessica wakes again with a gasp sitting up in bed, the pain that echoes through her abdomen making her regret the movement. The nightmare already faded from her as she settles back hissing through her teeth. She squints at her phone laying on her nightstand.

4:26 A.M.

She huffs covering her eyes. She can feel the beginnings of her medicine wearing off. She’s surprised Malcolm hadn’t woken her simply to take some. She peers through the dark spying her son curled in the chair in the corner of her room. He must have fallen asleep there after working on the case for most of the night.

Her chest aches remembering how after Martin she’d find him sleeping almost anywhere but his bed. That chair, specifically, was his favorite place to curl up. A flashlight and book lying abandoned on the floor by his feet.

She experimentally sits up again, slower this time. The pain is much more manageable in the slow, precise movements. As her eyes adjust to the dark she sees a cup sitting on her nightstand along with the bottles of medicine she’s supposed to take. Lying by the glass is a small card, a note hastily written.

Just as you like.

Her chest warms looking over at Malcolm again. The glass is still hot, he couldn’t have prepared it long ago. She tusks but slides the note in her drawer, standing. She suppresses the groan at the ache in her leg, not wanting to wake him when he’d clearly just managed to fall asleep. She grabs the spare blanket draped across the bottom of her bed and covers him. Even in his sleep he looks like he carries the whole world on his shoulders. Grabbing her tea and medicine she exits her bedroom.

She’s not sure exactly where she intended on going. The restlessness is enough to make her wander through the home on a good night. This, this is something else. A sense of dread that can’t seem to leave her chest.

She takes a sip of the tea enjoying the warmth that spreads across her. Her peace is only momentary though.

The tea doesn’t taste like what she drinks.

The taste brings her back twenty years. To Christmas morning with two children bouncing onto her bed excitedly screaming about Santa. To a golden tray loaded up with her favorites. To breakfast in bed. To the tea Martin had prepared for her.

Malcolm didn’t make this.

Panic fills her as she pushes herself through the home, steadying herself on the walls. She bursts into the dining room, looking for the bar cart.

She hears Malcolm screaming in her head.

Don’t drop the cup, it could be evidence.

She needs a drink

You’re not supposed to drink on your medication.

She doesn’t care. Not when she can’t get the taste out of her mouth.

Mother!

The cart is empty. Of course it is. Ainsley herself cleared it out. She has a stash in the kitchen. One she hadn’t touched since Malcolm’s months of silence. One only she knew about.

She grits her teeth using the table as a brace as her leg screams against the rush. She can’t think. Not when the memories are too loud. The good times taste like poison under his gaze, his touch.

She flicks on the light stopping dead in her path at the sight of a figure seated at the island, facing her. The glass slips from her hands spilling across the tile and scattering shards everywhere.

Freddy stares emptily at her. His skin is all too pale. A sharp cut against his throat and blood spilled all over his clothes. They’re the same clothes he’d been wearing when she saw him last. The eyes that had been so kind to her are frozen in choking horror. He probably couldn’t even scream.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Shattering glass startles Malcolm awake. He's up and aware in a matter of seconds. The bed his mother had fallen asleep in is empty, the medicine he’d left on her nightstand is gone too. He tries to rationalize with himself. She likely woke from a nightmare. Went to look for a drink. He doesn’t need to jump to conclusions.

Her scream sends ice through his veins. He’s taking off after that, ignoring the soreness in his joints from the position he’d slept in.

He never should have let himself fall asleep.

He was supposed to be guarding her.

Now she’s-

“Mom!” He calls out to her. Her screams seem to echo off the walls. He suddenly feels too small, a child searching helplessly for his mother in a crowd of ghosts. “Mom!” He’s closer. She’s still screaming.

He rounds the kitchen to a sight that turns his stomach. His investigative sense tells him to preserve the scene, call 911. But his mother is backed up against the wall, eyes glued to the body meant just for her. He doesn’t give a damn about the glass the cuts his feet to get to her. He lifts her by the elbows pulling her back into the dining room.

“Freddy. It’s Freddy.” She sobs before collapsing on his shoulder.

In that moment, Malcolm freezes. Twenty years, not once did she cry for Martin. Not once did she cry for her family that had been burned up and destroyed. She didn’t cry when he moved away, not when he woke up after being taken by the Junkyard Killer, not when Ainsley confessed to her that she killed Endicott. But she’s clinging to him like her life depends on it, and she’s crying.

All he can do is hold onto her and text Gil.

[paradise-creator]

OwO when u have time,, can I have a haven box for BNHA?? But just when you’re free and not working on prior works!! >:( I’m watching u bish

You can use my name in the result if you want to lol I already know it anyway!!

She/her, Taurus, INTJ, slytherin (pretty freakin’ queer but I usually lean towards boys/enbies more)

Personality: the first thing people notice about me is that I am less of a feeler and more of a thinker. I do have an IQ of 125, but my emotional intelligence is quite low, so I have trouble sympathizing with others. But I learned through experience, so I don’t SEEM emotionless. I can (and will) help my friends through tough times if they need me. I’m pragmatic, so I always go for the facts instead of the feelings during decision making or tough situations. I hold a lot of perfectionist traits that make it really hard for me to be satisfied with my results if they aren’t higher than the norm. I also have a slight issue with saying no, so sometimes I’ll offer my help or enrol myself in long-term projects while knowing I legit do not have time for more stuff on my schedule. Being a bit smarter than average, I sometimes feel like I’m obligated to help others so that they can do good too (however, I do like helping people with their hw to a certain extent). I’m working on those issues though!! I’m also an introvert, and I can get rlly tired if I have to be interacting for more than four hours straight with people, especially if their persona isn’t rlly compatible with mine.

However, when I’m surrounded by friends (or generally people who aren’t my superiors), I’m very energetic, loud, silly and I have a sharp tongue. I’m also insanely competitive, like someone please stop me?? My sense of humour goes from absolute nonsense to almost mean spirited sarcasm, but it all depends on who I’m talking to. I’m a MAJOR memer, I have a bunch of files filled with them, and I couldn’t bear be with people who didn’t understand my meme references. When I start liking something, I can get easily obsessed. I’m stubborn, therefore very passionate about the things I care about. I also have a slight case of the Endorphin Junkie, meaning that I really, really like the high you get after sports so I do crossfit training like five to six times a week. I’m unapologetically myself, and I will not ever change who I am to fit within the norm. I’m sometimes told that (that I’m odd, I mean), but I usually thank the people who tell me. I have a really, really big love for music and I have a tendency to break into song sometimes when people say a line from a song I know. I also cry sometimes when music gets really good ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ whoops

Appearance: I’m around 5’6”, with hazel eyes and brown hair that goes around to my shoulders. It gets curly out of nowhere. I can either wake up with straight hair or wake up with a freakin perm, it’s funny. My body isn’t exactly the lean type, I’m somewhere around the buff area of the scale instead, but as long as I seem visibly strong, I’m satisfied. When I’m not going anywhere significant, I usually just wear sport shirts and sweats, but I have a penchant for Dark Academia so I like /looking/ like I’m smart sometimes. And I have glasses bc apparently my eyes are assholes and they work too hard and it hurts my brain all the time

Likes: music (DavidBowieDavidBowieDavidBow-); I have a really wide range of music that goes from early 2000’s pop to 1700’s requiems(my faves are Bowie, Queen and Pink Floyd). I enjoy studying theoretical fields, reading, and I like talking about Absurd Theories About Reality That Make Little To No Sense. I like sports, and I love joking around with friends in the most exaggerated ways. I also love the colour green and I’m more of a cat person

Dislikes: dogs (they’re cute but keep them away pls), ignorant people, irresponsible people, spiders, things I’m not good at from the beginning, having to deal with strangers being upset, crying (me. I don’t like crying; I mean me, I’m fine if my friends cry)

Other fun facts!!

- my goals for the future are all over the place; I want to work for Disney, I want to get a musical composition degree, I want a biomedical engineering bachelors degree, I want an astrophysics doctorate, I want to study languages, I want to be a foreign English teacher... I can’t ever decide.

- I have a long history with getting crushes on guys who turned out to be gay. It happens so often and I HATE IT, it makes me feel terrible.

- I!!love!!70’s!!music!!so!!much!! I was raised on that stuff, my dad wouldn’t let us listen to anything else

- Lol my favourite playlist name is Drugs Playlist But I Don’t Even Do Drugs it’s just a bunch of Pink Floyd and David Bowie songs

- My favourite movies are 80’s or 90’s comedy classics!! Like Wayne’s World, or Airplane!, or Night at the Roxbury. I keep quoting Wayne’s World and no one understands :(

↬ ──:.⃗➹ +.*༉‧ᵕ̈°`*↷. ೃ₊✎⸙͎˚- ̗̀✧: ──↫

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┊         ┊       ☪︎⋆                                      ⋆✩

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ɴᴏᴡ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ

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Hello and Welcome my Starlight!

The Haven box includes:

- Match up

- Sun drop

- Flashes of memory

- Truth or dare gone wrong

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

I'd match you up with

Sero Hanata, Cellophane

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Sun drops

The reasons I paired you

- It me awhile to think about who to match you up with

- I was thinking of either Bakugou or Denki

- BUT THEN I REMEMBERED SERO

- Sero is such an underrated character smh

- BUT THIS DYNAMIC IS WHAT I LIVE FOR

-At first, you might be annoyed at his lack of knowledge but you over past that

- His EQ can help you grow as a person as well

- You have the IQ he has the EQ, BALANCE!

- You two would often have laughing sessions at class

- No cap tho, you two would be the most interesting couple

- You guys would have a matching necklace or a Keychain (IDK why but I feel like it-)

- You get along well with Denki, (IT TOOK A LONG TIME)

- But you would rather hang out with Bakugou (He tolerates you more than the others).

- BRO, please give him love. He craves your attention

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Flashes of memories

Sero: Hello there hot stuff!

Eve: Hello there Soy sauce

Sero: NOT YOU TOO

Eve: Just kidding, Hello babe

Sero: ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?

Eve: Yes, killing you with love

Sero: Dang that's smooth

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

Sero: He-

Eve: I didn't take your Pocky, Denki did

Sero: How-

Eve: You've been yelling about it for the past few minutes

Sero: Oh-

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

Sero: Can you help me with studying?

Eve: Struggling again?

Sero: Yes...

Eve: Why did I date you again?

Sero: Please?

Eve: ...

Also Eve: Fine

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Truth or dare gone wrong

The class 1-A were all gathered in their common room, even Bakugou was present. The class was having a truth or dare session, it seemed interesting. “Sero, my man! Truth or dare?” Denki asked as he looked at Sero. “Truth! I choose truth,” Sero said. “Who have you been talking on the phone to this past weeks? The one I keep hearing is my pumpkin?” Denki asked. Sero’s face then turned a light shade of pink. “O-Oh- ummm,” He started as he looked away. “Does our Cellophane have a girlfriend?” Mina teased as she poked Sero. “Y-Yeah,” He stuttered. “OI THAT’S NOT FAIR?!? WHY CAN YOU HAVE A GIRL BUT I CAN’T,” Denki sulked as he placed his head on the table. “If you weren’t such a perv then maybe you can get one!” Hakagure responded.

“Don’t be shy. Tell us more,” Mina said. Sero’s blush darkened and he looked away. “We are playing truth or dare! It’s my turn to ask,” Sero then said. “Actually, I am quite curious as well. We can always continue later,” Momo said as she smiled. Everyone agreed and they then looked at the nervous male. “C’mon now guys, this is unfair,” Sero said as he looked at everyone. “But you have a girl and we want tea,” Mina then said as she sat in front of him. “I- um, you guys really want to know about her, huh?” Sero said as he chuckled. Everyone nodded and stared at Sero intently. “Just tell us already, Soy sauce,” Bakugou growled as he glared at Sero. “Don’t listen to him, bro. He is just jealous,” Kirishima said. “WHAT-“ Bakugou was about to counter but was silenced. “Fine! Fine! You got me in a corner,” Sero then said as he chuckled. “She should be coming here,” He added as he looked at the door. “Three, two, one,” He then said as he pointed to the door.

“Hello, is Sero Hanta here?”A feminine voice said. “ARE YOU A PSYCHIC?” Denki said as he looked surprised. “I’m right here pumpkin!” Sero then said as he smirked. His nervousness melted away as he saw the 5’6ft girl. It was his girlfriend, Eve, and he was overjoyed. “Hey there babe!” She then said as she smiled. “DANG YOU GOT A FINE LADY!” Denki then yelled as he checked her out. “Keep your eyes above for I’ll gorge them out,” Eve then said as she glared at Denki. Soon enough, Mineta tried to touch her as well but his efforts were at vain. Sero used his tape as to stop Mineta from getting closer. And Eve kicked him away, far away from her. “Get your filthy hands away from her,” Sero said as he stood up. He then wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. “Woah, that was so manly!” Kirishima said as he smiled.

“GIRLS! GET HER-“ Mina said as she tackled the girl. They didn’t fall down but Mina was laughing and hugging her. “Girl! How long have you been together?” Mina asked as she pulled away. Eve was a bit uncomfortable but she merely had a stoic face. “A few weeks,” She responded bluntly. And soon enough, the truth or dare session was forgotten. It was replace with the class 1-A trying to pry out the tea from the couple. Did they succeed? No, not really. Though the class seemed to love Eve and her antics. The class even tried to make them forget about the date they have planned. But either way, Sero and Eve got manage to get away to have their small movie date at his room.

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

Author's note

Hai bb! I'm sorry it took so long. But thanks for requesting again~