#Then no question he deserves to be trapped in a mirror

[nhlclover]

BEGIN AGAIN SETH JARVIS

pairing: seth jarvis x fem!reader

summary: still scarred from your last relationship, you agree to go on a blind date and find yourself drawn to seth who reminds you that love doesn’t have to be painful.

warnings: mentions of a controlling/manipulative ex, reader being kinda insecure because of that

wc: 2.28k

notes: based on 'begin again' by taylor swift. so i wrote half of this last year and then gave up and then found it again! i don’t know

Looking at your reflection in the mirror of the sun visor of your car, you couldn’t help but let out a deep sigh. Despite the passed time, the wounds still felt fresh, the echoes of your past relationship lingering like smoke that refused to clear. You'd ended things eight months ago, walking away from fights that never resolved, from endless suspicions, and from a love that had twisted into something suffocating. Yet here you were, still carrying the weight of it all, the shadows of manipulation casting doubt over your future.

It was strange, almost cruel, how perfect he had seemed when you first met. Charming, attentive, and endlessly kind, he made you feel like you were the center of his universe. Those early days were painted with laughter and thoughtful gestures—flowers just because, long conversations where he seemed genuinely captivated by every word you spoke, and an uncanny ability to make you feel safe. You'd thought you’d found it — the elusive, storybook love.

But as time passed, the cracks began to show. Subtle at first, like a chill creeping into a warm room. His concern for your whereabouts turned into relentless questioning. His compliments, once sweet and affirming, grew barbed with hidden expectations. "You should wear this," he’d say, the suggestion laced with quiet judgment. He began isolating you, painting your friends as distractions and your ambitions as threats to your relationship. And somehow, little by little, you found yourself shrinking, folding yourself into the shape he demanded, just to keep the peace.

Even now, the memory of it made your chest tighten. You hated that his voice still lingered in your mind, sowing doubt just as you were meeting someone new. What if every man was like him beneath the surface? What if you were destined to be trapped in that same cycle, no matter how hard you tried to escape? The thought was enough to keep you rooted in this lonely limbo, terrified to step forward.

You closed the sun visor with a snap, forcing yourself back into the present. Not tonight. You weren’t going to let his memory ruin tonight.

Tonight was supposed to be a step forward, however small. Your friends had practically dragged you into this date, swearing up and down that the guy was different — kind, funny, and refreshingly normal. They'd given you the classic pep talk: You deserve to be happy. Not every guy is going to be like him. You have to let someone in eventually. You had rolled your eyes at their clichés, but a small part of you clung to the hope that maybe, just maybe, they were right.

You took a steadying breath, resting your hands on the steering wheel. The truth was, you didn't need this guy to be perfect. You didn't even need sparks or butterflies or some grand romantic epiphany tonight. You just needed him not to be him. That was the bare minimum you were willing to hope for right now.

And if he was kind, if he was genuine, if he listened without judgment — that would be a bonus. Maybe you wouldn’t fall in love tonight. Maybe this would end in polite smiles and a handshake at the end of the night. But wasn't that better than sitting in your car, haunted by the past?

“You’re not the same person anymore,” you whispered to your reflection, your voice soft but resolute. “You know what love isn't. And you won't let anyone make you feel small again.”

It was a promise. Not to the date, not even to your friends, but to yourself.

You pushed open the door of your car, the cool evening air spreading across your exposed legs allowing your heartbeat to slow to a normal rhythm. You approached the entrance of the restaurant, pausing as you gripped the door handle, heart thudding like a hesitant drumbeat.

The voice in your head whispered once more: What if this goes wrong too?

But tonight, you weren’t going to listen.

You pushed open the door, the soft chime announcing your arrival. Warmth enveloped you immediately, a stark contrast to the chill outside. The hostess greeted you with a polite smile, but you barely registered her as your eyes scanned the room. For a moment, fear gripped you — what if Seth wasn’t here? What if this was all just another disappointment waiting to unfold?

But then you spotted him.

Seth was sat at a table by the windows, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the candlelight. He was leaning slightly forward, fingers absently tracing the edge of his water glass as he glanced around the room. His dark hair was tousled in a way that suggested a hurried hand through it rather than meticulous grooming. There was something inherently relaxed about him, a stark contrast to the rigid expectations you'd grown accustomed to.

Relief mingled with surprise. He was on time.

You hadn’t realized how much that simple fact mattered until now. Your ex had always been late, offering flimsy excuses that eventually unraveled into truths you hadn’t wanted to see. Lateness had become a symbol of disregard, a subtle reminder that you were never quite enough to command his full attention.

But Seth was here, waiting for you.

You inhaled deeply, straightening your shoulders. This wasn’t the past. This was now.

“Welcome,” the hostess said, pulling you back to the present. “Are you meeting someone?”

“Yes,” you managed, your voice steadier than you expected. “By the windows.”

She nodded and led you through the softly lit dining room. As you approached, Seth glanced up, and a smile broke across his face — easy, genuine, and warm. He stood up, smoothing down the front of his shirt, raising his hand and offering a small wave, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Hey,” he said. He had a slight nervous energy, as if he’d been wondering if you’d show. That vulnerability made something inside you loosen, the tight knot of apprehension unraveling just a bit.

“Hi,” you replied, your lips curving into a tentative smile.

He pulled out your chair, a simple but thoughtful gesture that caught you off guard. You’d forgotten what it felt like to be treated with care rather than obligation. As you sat down, he returned to his seat, his gaze never wavering from you.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly, almost like it was a thought that slipped out before he could catch it.

A warmth crept up your neck. Compliments had always felt like weapons in the past, loaded with expectations or barbed with ulterior motives. But Seth’s words carried none of that weight. They felt simple and sincere, like a genuine observation rather than a demand for your approval.

“Thanks,” you said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “You clean up pretty well yourself.”

He chuckled, his shoulders relaxing as though you’d cracked the ice that had been lingering between you. The tension in the air softened, giving way to an easy, tentative curiosity. This wasn’t a battlefield; it was just two people sharing a meal, and that realization was a relief.

The waitress arrived, handing you menus and reciting the specials before retreating, leaving the two of you enveloped in the soft hum of the restaurant. The candle flickered between you, its warm light casting shadows across the table.

“So,” Seth began, leaning forward with a smile, “do you want to start with the big questions or ease in with something light?”

You laughed, the sound surprising even yourself. “What’s a big question?”

“Favorite dinosaur. It’s a make-or-break topic, really.”

“Stegosaurus,” you answered without hesitation.

“Solid choice,” he nodded approvingly. “But I’m gonna have to go with Triceratops. It’s got the perfect balance of cool factor and functionality.”

“I respect that.” You grinned. “We can stay friends.”

He tapped his glass with mock relief. “Thank God. I was worried this was going to be a disaster.”

The conversation flowed from there, naturally and without pretense. You talked about work, favorite childhood memories, and shared pet peeves. There was an ease to it all, as though you’d known each other longer than just tonight.

At one point, the topic shifted to music. Seth’s eyes lit up as he described his favorite records, and you found yourself matching his enthusiasm.

“I have a bit of a vinyl addiction,” you admitted, sipping your drink. “I probably have way too many James Taylor records.”

“Wait,” he said, setting down his fork. “How many is ‘way too many’?”

You shrugged. “Like… fifteen?”

His jaw dropped in playful disbelief. “Fifteen? That’s wild. I don’t think I’ve ever met another person with that many James Taylor records. I have ten, and I thought that was obsessive.”

“Well, it’s nice to finally meet someone who gets it,” you teased.

The waitress returned with your meals, and as you began eating, Seth launched into stories from his childhood. He spoke with vivid detail about growing up with his brother, recounting wild adventures that had you laughing until tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You told him about work and your hobbies, Seth listened with genuine attentiveness and interest in your stories. Slowly, the layers of doubt that had been cast by your ex began to peel away. Every little chuckle he gave out after a joke drowned out the memories of your ex’s cynical laugh.

Suddenly the night had flown by, Seth kindly paying for dinner, and now he was insisting on walking you to your car as you had to park a couple blocks down. His genuine concern was a stark difference from your ex's callous indifference.

As you strolled beneath the city lights, admiring the trees lining the street with Christmas lights woven between branches, Seth brought up the Christmas movies he and his family would watch every year. You found your mind once again comparing the toxicity of your ex to Seth, who had just about changed your opinion about men. Before you nearly brought him up, Seth pulled you back to the moment.

“Every year on Christmas Eve we watch the original How The Grinch Stole Christmas. Like the animated one.” He tells you, a pure and childlike smile tugging on his lips.

You smiled back, a warmth in your heart you had forgotten was something you could experience. The night had been a stark departure from the toxic patterns of your past. As the pair of you approached your car, you finally felt the tightness in your chest subsiding, any feelings of what once was gone now.

Seth paused by your car, his breath visible in the crisp night air. The city hummed softly around you, the distant sound of car horns mingling with laughter from nearby restaurants. He shifted on his feet, the faint glow of the streetlights catching the warmth in his eyes.

“I had a really great time tonight,” he said, his voice low but sincere.

“So did I,” you admitted, the honesty rolling off your tongue without hesitation. “I wasn’t sure I was ready for this, but… tonight was good. Really good.”

His smile widened, his relief evident. "That makes me happy to hear." He hesitated, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "And, hey, no pressure or anything, but I'd love to see you again.”

The vulnerability in his voice hung between you, delicate yet inviting. For a moment, you were silent, the weight of your past teetering on the edge of your thoughts. But tonight had been different—a beginning rather than a replay of old wounds.

You glanced up at Seth, his hopeful expression etched with authenticity, and your heart made the choice your mind had been too cautious to consider.

"I'd like that too," you said softly, a smile forming without resistance.

His face lit up, and the sight stirred something gentle and warm inside you, like sunlight filtering through cracks in a wall you'd thought impenetrable. The breeze tugged at your hair, crisp and sharp, but you barely felt it with the warmth spreading through your chest.

He took a step closer, close enough that you could catch the faint scent of cedar and fresh soap lingering on him. "I’ll text you then. And I promise I’m not one of those ‘wait three days’ guys." His tone was playful, but there was a thread of earnestness beneath it.

You laughed, the sound unguarded. "Good. Because that rule is ridiculous."

He grinned, the kind that was contagious and disarming. "Agreed."

There was a beat of silence, the world around you quieting into something hushed and intimate. For the first time in a long time, the echoes of your past didn't press against your ribs, demanding to be heard. They had no place here, not in this moment, not with this man who stood in front of you without expectation or pretense.

"Drive safe," he said, stepping back but lingering as though reluctant to let the night end.

“Thank you, Seth.” you say softly.

Seth gave you a small wave before turning to walk back down the street, his figure illuminated by the golden glow of the streetlights. For a long moment, you stood there, the world hushed and still. Your breath clouded in the frigid air, heart thrumming with a strange mix of peace and disbelief.

This wasn’t where you thought you'd end up eight months ago when everything had shattered. Back then, love had felt like a cruel joke — something that only broke, burned, and eventually ended. You’d sworn off the idea entirely, resigned to believe that its weight was always suffocating, its promises empty.

But tonight was proof that you’d been wrong.

Standing beneath the winter sky, you realized you'd just watched love begin again.

[wings-of-sapphire]

Warning: Wish spoilers, The Owl House S3E1 “Thanks to Them” spoilers

Chose to turn this into a pic bc I didn’t want to spoil anything for people but yes, it is reminiscent of the ToH scene

However while we got to know Flapjack, and saw him as a beautiful living being who brought Hunter out of the darkness and became his best friend, we didn’t really know a lot about Sakina

I think that’s one of the many things Wish suffered from, the short time constraint. We didn’t really get to know any of the cast personally, and Sakina saying “this is grief” when seeing her literal hopes and dreams get crushed into oblivion, no hope of getting them back or knowing that part of her ever again…

Maybe seeing Sakina visually go grey, or silent, or sob, instead of immediately comforting Asha after on the boat would’ve given the scene more impact. So while the scenes are reminiscent of each other, Flapjack’s was a lot more personal while Sakina’s was… something that didn’t seem to truly break her as it did Hunter (and the rest of the Owl audience, shsksjakjsjs I’m sobbing)

[starkeyisthelastname]

(Here you are my gorgeous babes! 😘💕) Because Dealer!Rafe has enough money and then some more.💰😻💖

You knew Rafe sold drugs, the first interaction of you two was because you needed weed and your friend knew of him. You just didn’t know the depth of it and nor did Rafe want you too. He would always tell you that you were too damn pretty to worry about it, never needing to really reveal how dangerous of a man he was.

Banks runs were a fun day, riding in the passenger seat of his blacked out Range Rover like the princess you were. Fresh mani-pedi, lash extensions thick, pretty Louis bag sitting next to your hip. He would have one ringed hand on the steering wheel, other hand holding his phone as he talked to Barry about something you didn’t understand or would even question. You already had tried that before, and was reassured Rafe could defend himself.

“Stay here, pretty girl.” He would tell you, phone still pressed to his ear as he began to open the drivers side door. You turned your head as you applied the Dior lipgloss in the mirror, looking at him with a glossy pout.

“Can I go in this time?” You asked, long lashes fluttering at him.

Rafe shook his head, gripping your jaw firmly to make you look up at him. “Quit fuckin pouting, you’re too goddamn gorgeous for that shit.” He said, voice low. “Let daddy handle his business and maybe you’ll get something.”

You nodded, eyes looking up at him like the perfect little doll you were. He loved every second of spoiling you with the massive amounts of trap money he made. He pulled you in for a sloppy kiss before pulling back with a smirk on his lips. He never had committed to any girl or ever wanted to, but something about you was different and he would give you whatever the fuck your precious heart desired.

You waited as patiently as you could, eyes glancing up at the door ever so often until you saw your tall boyfriend walking out of the bank, a couple blue bags in hand. He was so effortlessly sexy wearing his white tee, a gold chain resting against his collarbone, and fresh buzzcut bringing how his handsome face. He got into the drivers seat, setting two out of the three blue bags in the center console next to a shiny gun. He closed it, before handing you the one bag he left out.

Unzipping it, you looked into the bag to see bundle of cash wrapped in rubber bands and colorful tabs. He chuckled as you looked up at him, eyes a little wide at the amount.

“Go fucking crazy mama, daddy’s got plenty more to go around.” Rafe laughed, looking over his shoulder as he backed out of the parking space. He was a fucking boss and his money and girl were the only two priorities he was worried about. “You are a pretty princess aren’t ya? Pretty princesses deserve expensive shit.” He said, hand coming over to possessively grab your thigh.

[aprilthearcher]

covered in you

harry potter x slytherin!fem!reader ― Harry doesn't know it yet, but the crush he has on a certain Slytherin Chaser is reciprocated.

part 2 of replaying your laughter.

slightly inspired by 'ivy' by Taylor Swift. the first part was through Harry's POV, this one is from the reader (1st person). if you enjoyed this 2nd part, you can always like, reblog, or write a comment!

word count: 3k

#masterlist!

His eyes are the same colour as my tie and it feels like a punch to the throat every single time that I’m reminded of it, which occurs any time he’s mentioned. Unfortunately, that happens more often than not – even in the Common Room of the house that proudly swears to hate him. 

Though I was determined to forget him, I can't help myself from watching him sitting with his friends who brandish the same deep and vibrant colour on their robes, laughing at their jokes, smiling kindly – and awkwardly – at the kid with the camera and toothy grin. Though I was determined to forget him, my mind refuses to stop showing me his face every time I close my eyes at night. Though I have resolved that I must forget him, it is hard to do so when his presence haunts my dreams. 

He’s ruining my life. The image of him, his smile, his eyes, his voice, all creep into my head, covering what is deemed unimportant – almost anything that isn’t him – like an ivy climbing over a stone wall, trapping me to the point where it is suffocating. But the worst part is he doesn’t even know.

Peeling my eyes away from his back (it is a shame he didn’t sit on the other side of the Gryffindor table), I catch Luna’s eyes. I smile at her and raise a hand as a greeting. She mirrors my action, though more enthusiastically, and the scarlet and golden flecks of the lion hat she’s wearing move from one side to the other. I giggle at her creation, remembering how she came up to me a few days ago explaining how she would support Gryffindor at the upcoming match.

“I just thought it’d be nice to tell you. I don’t want you to feel bad because of me,” she had said while we were on our way to our first class of the day.

“Luna, you could never make me feel bad,” I had answered, truth embellishing every word. “But, I do expect you to support Slytherin when we play against Hufflepuff.”

A pair of tender eyes suddenly grew curious about Luna's actions, following her line of vision by turning his head and finding me. Our eyes meet for a brief second, but I look away, going back to eating my toast and remembering the plays that Urquhart had prepared for today’s match. For a moment, my mind tricked me into believing I saw what resembled a smile on his face. It couldn’t have been. 

The walk-back to the castle after the match and that conversation felt surreal. There was a massive and unforeseen flock of emotions that seemed to want to rip up my body, especially my mind by how fast it was racing. I was angry for the lost, conflicted because of the fight with Urquhart, surprised by my own magic after making him fly away several paces, irritated at the fact that I had to face Snape tomorrow for a detention that I didn’t deserve, confused as to why had Harry Potter even approached us; and just utterly elated. 

For some reason, Harry had seen it fit to come near us – me? No, it couldn’t be. I was already spiraling –. For some reason, he’d called me a great Chaser. Not good, but great. Could it be…? No, I was going further down the rabbit hole. He was being nice, because that was who he was. Harry Potter was nice – and charming, and funny, and heroic, although Snape had only said it to mock him –, therefore, it was simply because of him being such a good person that he would compliment my skills as a Chaser. 

That night, a single question kept me from resting. No matter how sore my muscles were from the match, how tired I was of simply thinking, I didn’t sleep a wink. It kept me up all night, and even when the sun was already rising, my mind insisted on repeating it.

Could it be? 

It had taken an insane amount of willpower to not yawn in front of Professor Snape while we – he – discussed the terms of my detention, though the bags under my eyes did little to take away the attention from the fact that I hadn’t slept at all. The whole time I was thinking about how Harry Potter was really ruining my life, because I didn’t know how I would manage to go through all of my classes after spending the night thinking about him. 

I was leaving Snape’s office with my bag, a stomach ready to devour breakfast, and a two-week more or less decent detention on my back, when he called me. Salazar, if he’s thinking about adding up a week…

“That display of wandless magic was… quite efficient.” Were my ears deceiving me? “Never use it against your Slytherin peers again.”

Should I use it against Gryffindors, then? The remark died in my throat. I did not want more detention. I accepted whatever sort of compliment – because Snape didn’t use the word efficient, even less with a quite in front, offhandedly – was that and left the room, not without uttering a ‘thank you’ and ‘of course, Professor, it won’t happen again’. 

My pace, and my mind, were a little lighter as I made my way to the Great Hall. A small smile settles on my face, proud of myself and my magic, as I walk towards my usual place at the Slytherin table. Most students have already had breakfast, making the long table not as crowded, and that is why Harry Potter decides, on a whim, to approach it quickly with a half-eaten toast in his hand and crumbles scattered across his robes. 

For one or two seconds, I stare at him – it seems to be all I do these days –. 

For two or three seconds, he stares at me, surprised, perhaps, that he’s even here. 

“How did your conversation with Snape go?” Why was he asking me that? Before I can answer, though, he appears to have realised something because it is all stretched out on his face. “Sorry- Hi, good morning. How did your conversation with Snape go?”

A laugh wants to escape my mouth, but I don’t let it in case Harry thinks it’s because I’m laughing at him. Instead, I remind myself to breathe and act cool, or at least casual. 

“Morning.” I didn’t think it’d be this hard but the kind expression he has on his face stuns me for a moment. “Well- it, it went well. I’ll have to help Madam Prince at the library for two weeks, but I don’t mind it too much. I like it there.”

“I know.” His response, too quick to his liking depending on his widened eyes, causes a giddy feeling to spread through my body. “I- I meant… I’ve seen you there… only when I go with Hermione, from time to time.”

I nod, choosing not to say anything that would spur the redness that has overtaken his cheeks and neck. Instead, I mention something else. “He called my wandless magic ‘quite efficient’, as well.”

“Did he? Wow, you must be his favourite for saying something that sounds so much like a compliment.” I laugh at Harry’s response, closing my eyes and missing the way his are twinkling. “I think he basically called you gifted.”

Suddenly, Luna is right beside Harry, a beam on her face as she sees our interaction. “Quibbler?” She asks us. I nod at the same time I grab a toast from the table. “This one includes a section on different Tarot readings and spreads, (Y/N).”

“Nice! Thank you, Luna.”

“No problem,” Luna whispers. Now, looking up at Harry, she furrows her eyebrows. “What happened to you, Harry? Your face and neck are all red.” My lips are etched on a sheepish smile on my face, and my heart beats just a tiny beat faster at the prospect that I could be the cause of his blush.

The next time I see Harry, he doesn’t actually see me, and it’s not like I’ve planned it so it doesn’t count as spying or stalking. I had been sitting on the crook of one of the many archways that the castle had to offer, reading a muggle book that I’d brought from home, when I heard three different sets of footsteps, each accompanying a different voice. From the sound of it, they had stopped a few metres away from me, and based on the fact that they started talking about me, I assumed the big column blocked me from their view.

“Why are you suddenly friends with that Slytherin?” Ron had asked, his face set on a scowl from the way his voice sounded.

“I think she is… nice, and kind… and friendly.”

“Friendly? Harry, she’s a Slytherin! She cannot be friendly! None of them are.” Ron’s words would have hurt me in First Year. Now, I had learned to ignore whatever people had to say about my house. It’s not as if he didn’t have a reason, though. Unfortunately, the ones that were not nice were also the loudest, making themselves look big and threatening by spitting insults, and, in the process, giving the rest of us a bad reputation. Moreover, the fact that He Who Must Not Be Named once brandished the same colours didn’t help. “Is this… some kind of plan to find out whatever you think Malfoy is up to?”

My eyebrows furrowed instantly after hearing Ron’s question. My heart, instead, trembled, getting closer to breaking apart while my mind began to come up with doubts, ‘I told you so’s’, and inquiries. 

Had Harry truly approached me only because he thought he’d get information about Malfoy from me? I wasn’t even friends with that arsehole! And speaking of him, did Harry believe he was planning something? I mean, sure, he was acting stranger than usual, but at the end of the day, it was Malfoy we were talking about here! He’s always scheming and he’s prone to acting weirdly. I could try to pry something from Zabini… Nah, that would never work out.

“No! No! I- I hadn’t even thought of that…” In the middle of my mental war, I heard Harry’s answer, catching myself almost too late to sigh in relief. They couldn’t know I was listening in to their conversation. That would surely make me more suspicious in Ron’s eyes. “She’s…”

Silence passed between the trio while Ron and Hermione waited for Harry to finish his sentence.

“Well, she’s Luna’s friend. And I trust Luna, so I trust her.” A smile grew on my face.

“Trust is a big word for a Slytherin.” The smile almost, almost, faltered. 

“You know what, Ron? I think you’d actually be good friends if you gave her a chance.” This was Hermione’s first contribution to the discussion, which surprised me quite a bit. I knew my housemates hadn’t been exactly friendly towards her, especially Malfoy and his gang of illiterate fools, so the fact that she would defend me in some way shocked me. 

“Sure, we’d be best mates.” I could picture Ron’s disgusted face perfectly on my head. I giggled quietly at it. It was a shame, we would make good friends.

Sipping my drink quietly, I looked at the different faces round the wooden table. Sitting idly between Professor Slughorn and Zabini, I avoided Marcus Belby devouring his food by locking eyes with Hermione. Her face almost made me cackle, Zabini’s wasn’t helping my case either. Sitting on the other side of Slughorn was Cormac McLaggen, the most obnoxious Gryffindor I had ever met, sending furtive glances towards Hermione. Salazar, I’d never want to be in her place. Neville Longbottom, seemingly just enjoying the fact that he had been invited, and Harry stood on each side of her. I forced myself not to stare at Harry – or at least, not so much as usual. The twins I had encountered a few times, though I had to avoid them daily because their stares and questions creeped me out; but I’d never seen the boy beside Harry. Only one was missing, Ginny Weasley. 

I jump at Slughorn’s sudden call of my name. “I hear you’ve got a business going on. Tarot readings, isn't it?”

My ‘business’, as Professor Slughorn called it, was always supposed to be secret. Particularly, because I had never bothered to check if it was permitted for a student to offer such ‘services’ at Hogwarts. I guess the mortified look on my face amused Professor Slughorn enough to laugh soundly. “Oh, do not fret, Miss. No one will expel you for that. But do tell me, are you thinking of doing it professionally?”

“Well -” Usually, I was not the shy kind, but I knew that if I moved my eyes towards the other side of the table, I’d see Harry looking at me because I could feel his green eyes observing me. Also, I felt the need to impress Professor Slughorn. He was a great teacher in my eyes, I enjoyed his classes, and he had good connections in the Wizarding World. “In a sense, I think I’d like to do it professionally, maybe even try my luck in the muggle world. But, I’ve always wanted to explore other branches of Divination, maybe even research them in depth.”

“You said something about the muggle world, muggles are aware of these practices, aren’t they?”

“Yes, they are, sir. It was actually my muggle grandmother who taught me how to read the cards.”

Professor Slughorn hummed content. Pleased with my answer and his nod of approval, I let myself relax and smile. “That is certainly interesting, Miss. When I’m no longer your teacher, I shall ask for a reading for myself. What do you think, Mister Potter? Do you think we can predict the future?”

Finally, I looked up, linking my eyes with his. He had already been gazing at me, his green eyes fixing on mine the moment I moved my head towards him. 

“Well, only if the person predicting the future is an exceptionally gifted witch or wizard, sir.” There was a boyish beam on his face that pushed me to grin back at him.

Slughorn’s Christmas party looked more promising than I was expecting it to be. Perhaps it was due to the lavishly decorated room, the music playing in the background, and the never-ending incoming of trays filled with food. The guests who weren’t classmates were also interesting. It was hard sometimes to imagine a life outside of Hogwarts, especially with a war brewing, but seeing all these witches and wizards gave me a sense of comfort. 

I start roaming around the room alone a few minutes after I arrive. It had been some sort of beneficial agreement for both me and my date. Neither of us would've wanted to show up at this party alone – I knew it even if he hadn’t necessarily told me so –, but we didn’t tolerate each other enough to spend the night attached to the hip. 

It’s not as if I’m searching the room for him specifically, still I flinch a bit when I find him on the other side of Slughorn’s office. He hasn’t seen me, so I take this small moment to compose myself and to think of my next move, playing with the purple heart-shaped pendant that matches the deep hues of my long dress. The fabric is rich in colours and the tiny rocks that are sewn into the bodice seem to reflect the warm light that illuminates the room. 

Taking a deep breath, I let my eyes wander across the room once more, looking at everything except at where he is. A handful of guests are chatting with each other, some are hoarding the food, and others are just arriving. Finally, our eyes meet for the first time tonight. He appears to have forgotten the fact that he was just talking with someone because he starts moving towards me without even saying anything to the guest he’d been entertaining. In the middle of his walk, as a greeting, he raises his right hand, which stays for barely one or two seconds hovering over his heart when he’s putting it down. 

When he reaches me, alone in one of the corners, I can only describe the expression on his face as dumbfounded. He struggles to keep his eyes set on my face and not let them scan the way this dress is hugging my body. “H-Hi!” His excitement is heard through his voice. Also his nervousness. “You- you look…” His mouth opens and closes, and I giggle at the way he reminds so much of a fish right now. “You look… Godric, beautiful doesn’t do you any justice.” He whispers this as if he hadn’t wanted me to hear, but I do.

I want to scream. I want to start dancing around the room. I want to cry. I want to grab his face and kiss him until we’re both suffocating. I don’t do any of those things.

“Who, um, who did you come with?” He asks.

“Seeing as someone asked Luna before I got the chance, I had to resort to other… options.” My eyes settle on Zabini, chatting up a guest across the room.

Harry laughs sheepishly, “Right, sorry. It was either Luna or one girl who wanted to give me a love potion.”

“Oh! Then I’m glad you got to Luna first.”

There’s a moment of silence that, surprisingly, does not feel awkward. 

“I, uh, I was about to ask you, actually, but,” Harry turns his face towards me and I see him gulp “I didn’t know if you would’ve been up to it.”

I look at him, gazing at him in this warm-lighted room makes my head dizzy. His black robe is elegant and fitting, and there is something, just something, that seems to be calling me to run my fingers through his hair. But I control my urges and save myself the embarrassment. 

“I would’ve.”

“That’s good to know.”

Two weeks after, I find myself having a laugh over a butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks with Harry Potter. My cheeks hurting from smiling so much and my stomach flipping because of something that I know has nothing to do with my drink, I choose to ignore the nasty feeling in my gut warning me about how this might not last long. Whatever time I can spend with him, I’ll take it.

thank you for reading!

[miyahchan]

Week One - October 2nd - Ghost!Gojo x Reader

Synopsis: After the death of your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, you can still feel his lingering touch.

Word Count: 1.6k

🚨 Warnings: 18+ content, oral sex (female receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, penetration, overall super smutty.

The content in this post contains spoilers for the anime / manga! Also, there is a good amount of angst here :) 🚨

Check out the official Kinktober 2024 post HERE!

On the bus back home, you felt the same pair of eyes boring into the back of your skull. You didn’t want to turn around again – no, you couldn’t. 

            You slid your compact mirror from your purse, flipping it up and angling it toward the back of the bus. From the glass, you saw nothing but empty seats behind you. The other passengers had gotten off miles ago, leaving you as the last stop. It was only you and the bus driver. Or at least that’s what you were convincing yourself was true. But you had to be sure.

            A heavy sigh escapes you and it feels like it takes every fiber of your being to turn around. You knew he’d be there. He always was. Your eyes landed on him. He sat all the way in the back, merely a figure sticking out from the shadows.

            It was Gojo, again. Your lover. Your deceased lover.

            His blue orbs held your gaze, never breaking away. He was pale, paler than the last time you’d seen him. He wore a tight, black shirt and white pants – the outfit he’d died in. He never wore anything else when you saw him, not even the clothes you’d gotten him as a gift over the many years you’d been together. It was a sick reminder, and you didn’t know who to blame. You knew your brain was conjuring up a twisted image of your lover, a sad amalgamation of the pain you’d been feeling over the past few months. He couldn’t possibly be there, right?

            You rush off the bus as soon as you reach your destination. The thin, winter air smacks your face as your legs carry you down the sidewalk and toward your apartment building. You don’t dare to turn back. He’d be there, yet again, not even chasing you. Just… there. 

            Your apartment was quiet that night as it was every night. You had run a warm bath and even drank some herbal tea, trying to calm your nerves, but nothing worked. You were scared. It was a horrible feeling to be scared to see. To be scared to look in the corner or look in the mirror or even open your eyes in the morning. You weren’t scared of Gojo. No, quite the opposite. Gojo Satoru was your comfort, your home, your heart. But what lingered in your peripheral every passing moment of the day wasn’t your Gojo. It was just what remained of him.

            What did you do to deserve this? That was the question you asked yourself every day. You hadn’t cursed him, as you knew what would happen if you did. You wanted him to move on from this earth and find peace wherever he ended up, but somehow, he was still here.

            You had stared at the ceiling until you eventually dozed off in your bed, but you woke up as suddenly as you fell asleep. The digital clock on your nightstand was a neon blur but you made out the numbers as you slowly came to – 2:36 am. A surge of paranoia rushed through your body as the image of Gojo watching you on the bus flashed in your mind. You jumped up to check your surroundings, ready to catch those eyes staring at you from the corner of the room but something stopped you. 

            There was a weight on you, stopping you from moving. 

            You feel trapped and your eyes travel down only to find arms wrapped around your torso. A shiver ran down your spine and you didn’t know if it was from fear or the fact that whoever held you was cold. Freezing cold. 

            “Gojo?” The word fell shakily from your mouth.

            You felt his fingers begin to trace the skin under your shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. You melted into the familiar touch, falling slack and just now noticing the strong build resting behind you. You lean back into Gojo’s broad chest and let him touch you. His hands move upwards, caressing your breasts and letting his ice-cold fingers run over your nipples.

            You weren’t sure when you’d gained the confidence for it, but you interrupt him and turn around to face him. You froze in your tracks. Instead of the lifeless gaze that had been watching you endlessly, his eyes were warm and his skin was flushed, like life had been breathed back into his body. His hair was fluffy and messy, just like how it would be in the mornings before he got ready to go teach his students.

            “You’re crying.” His voice knocked you from your thoughts. It was his usual mocking tone, something you’d missed hearing more than anything. A smirk adorned his face.

            Wiping your eyes, you realized that you indeed were crying. You punctuated this with a sniffle. “I- how are you…”

            Gojo didn’t answer the question, instead opting to just watch you. The smirk remained, but behind his eyes, there was something there. Sadness. Before you could comment, he put a hand on the back of your head and brought you toward him, smashing his lips against yours. You kissed him back with no hesitation. The kiss was needy, like you were having your first taste of oxygen after not being able to breathe for so long. You forced his mouth open and slipped your tongue in, tasting everything Gojo had to offer. He still tasted the same. You work on getting your clothes off as you indulge in him.  Gojo is just as desperate as you. As soon as you’re naked, he strips as well, his lips only leaving yours to take off his shirt.

            You moan into his mouth as he flips you over, his strong hands roaming all over your body. He grips your hips, your thighs, your breasts, anything he can get his hands on. His lips leave yours only to move to your neck, where he sucks the skin passionately, leaving purple bruises. He travels down, leaving a track of hickeys wherever his lips land. When he reaches your pussy, you spread your legs eagerly. 

            “Please, baby, please…” Is all you can breathe out before Gojo latches onto your clit and you let out a sharp moan. His hands keep your thighs apart as he devours you. He focuses on your clit first, the teasing that you were accustomed to throughout your relationship being replaced with pure desire. His tongue swirls around your bud, gathering up your juices and he spits them harshly on your clit before attacking it again. He then takes your clit between his lips and sucks, making you arch your back high off the bed. His eyes are closed, relishing in your taste as his tongue slips and slides in your pussy. He focuses on your entrance, sliding his tongue in and out until he feels your legs start to shake in his grasp.

            You scream as you cum on his face and your juices coat his lips. He flattens his tongue as you grind against it, riding out your orgasm. God, you missed this. You grind on his tongue until you overstimulate yourself, and you collapse against the mattress.

            Gojo clearly isn’t finished with you as he climbs on top of you, licking your cum off his lips before he kisses you again. He’s uncharacteristically quiet as the two of you make out yet again, not even making a noise when you run your fingers through his hair and pull at the strands. Before you can think about it, you feel Gojo sliding his tip up and down your pussy, gathering your wetness on his length before he sheathes his entire length inside of you.

            Even though it had been so long, you could never forget the pleasure of finally feeling your lover inside of you. He’d always stretched you out so good, and tonight was no exception. You whine as he starts to slide in and out achingly slow, prepping you. His tip is already kissing your g-spot and his pelvis stimulates your already sensitive clit every time your hips meet. You could orgasm from this alone, but Gojo had always been an overachiever. He speeds up his pace and presses his body against yours so that you’re chest to chest, hitting a different angle than before.

            “Gojo! Ah, right there!” You moan in his ear, unashamed of how loud you are. At the same time, Gojo is moaning in yours. It’s a mix of curses and desperate whines that escape him as he drills into you.

            “I’m…” He groans when you clench around his dick just right. “I’m going to miss this.”

            His words fly right over your head as you feel a second orgasm building in your stomach. You swear he starts to fuck you even deeper and at that point, he’s fucking you into the mattress. “Oh god, I’m..” 

            “Me too.” The two of you reach your orgasms together, the room filling with nothing but the sounds of skin on skin and cries of pleasure. You pulse around him, milking him until you feel him cum inside of you. You coat him in a thin, shiny layer of your juices as he finally slows down to a halt. He’s still inside of you as he stares down at your now worn-out form.

            The last thing you remember before you fall asleep is his lips mouthing the words, “I love you.”

            You woke up alone that next morning, buried in a pile of blankets and your withdrawn clothing. Gojo was gone. He was gone when you rode the bus to work. He was gone when you ran your weekly errands. He was gone when you came back to your apartment every night.

            You never saw your lover again, not even in the corner of your eye.

[tojiscrack]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐍

pairing: megumi fushiguro x reader

summary: 18k words — you and megumi meet for the first time and experience kindergarten together.

notes: this is the fic i’ve been working on for a little while. a childhood friends to lovers with megumi because he’s so underrated (and deserves better!!). updates will be slow, but only because the chapters will range from 10-12k and maybe even more. check the tags to see if this story will interest you — i’ll make sure to add the tropes, what to expect, and the general gist of it all <3 enjoy! here is also sneak peak (a small scene from some of the future chapters) to be certain that this is the story for you :)))

tw: slightly bad english in dialogue (done on purpose as the characters presented are kids), y/n (she deserves her own warning), and idk, offended gojo

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

next chapter :)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

2007-2008 kindergarten

you sat on the floor, the rough carpet scratching up against your shorts as you flattened out your skirt in preparation for your story-telling. the loud giggles around you had quietened notably. your classmates sat in a full circle, all facing you with contained anticipation and exhilaration. kimberly garnett sat with a fist in her mouth, grinning widely at you. malakai abara sat on his knees, bent forward with a smile on his face as he twisted the little dreads on his head with his small finger. the rest of the kids simply awaited, laughing as you reached for the toy torch and held it beneath your chin.

silently, you flipped the switch on... or rather struggled to flip the switch on. you heard several sighs from around you as you took the time to figure out what the issue was, until at last, the light had turned on (and blinded you in the process).

clearing your throat, you sat up straighter, eyes half-lidded as your story began:

"a long, long time ago, far away, once upon a time, there was a girl... and her name was bloody mary," you began, slowly. the other kids watched you with wide eyes. "she was killed by some bad guy. and then he trapped her inside a mirror."

"but how?" ayaan miah had asked, looking fearful.

you regarded him with little care.

"none of your beeswax, anyways! erm — so basically — erm — oh my god, ayaan! look what you done! now i can't remember!"

every kid in the circle whined and moaned out ayaan's name, frustrated at the boy's interruption. you shut your eyes, attempting to remember, and when you had opened them, you had been met with ayaan's flushed brown skin. you decided that you would save him then, seeing as you had remembered the story once more.

"wait guys, it's fine. i remember now."

everyone sighed in relief, their smiles returned.

"okay, so..." you sighed. "now when kids are being very bad, my mommy says that if you go in the mirror and say 'bloody mary' three times and then you spin around — then — then — then she's gonna come out and then she's gonna get her long nails and then she's — she's gonna try and kill you. and then there's gonna be so much blood."

your eyes passed each and every one of their faces, scanning their features; they looked traumatised.

from the corner of your eye, you caught slight movement. immediately, your head turned in that direction, met with the sight of amira khalil shakily raising her hand. it seemed that she had wanted permission to speak — you nodded your head at her, encouraging her to voice her thoughts.

"is there any way to save yourself?" she said timidly.

her wise question had led the rest of the kids to nod and look at you with big, curious eyes, seemingly pleased with her question and wondering what the answer would be.

you thought for a moment, scratching your head and accidentally moving the hair clip your mother had placed in your hair. you quickly adjusted it and then placed both your hands on the torch again, ready to answer.

"so, basically, you can pretend to die," you told them carefully. you did not like how the smiles on their faces had returned, looking satisfied with your response.

the kids had immediately begun speaking to each other, excitedly having discussions about how bloody mary was not ever going to be able to get them now that they had found a solution. you narrowed your eyes at them, a sneer on your face as you loudly interrupted the discussions.

"but!" you had said loudly. their attention was back on you, frowns forming and smiles disappearing. that's better, you had thought to yourself. "not to bubble your burst... but — but — like, she can get her finger and put it underneath your nose to see if you're breathing. and you can't hold your breath because she will hold it there for a long time," you added quickly as the smartest kid in your class (alexa clement) opened her mouth to put in her input. she had shut it as soon as the last word had been uttered.

kimberly garnett had long since taken her fist out of her mouth, not looking nearly as content as she had once been when she had first taken a seat across from you on the carpet.

"i think i'm scared..." she said, hesitantly.

you nodded, chin in the air. "yeah, you should be. but i'm not scared."

"huh?" gasped david yeboah, mouth parted in shock (similar to the rest of the kids in the circle). "how? what if she comes to kill you if you call her?"

you had your answer prepared since the moment you had stepped past the doors of the kindergarten building that morning.

"um — she — she's my friend, so — um — she won't kill me. and she said that if you guys don't give me your toys, then she will kill you," you explained, watching as they had all started scrambling to find their toys and place them by your feet.

another successful story-telling day.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

tired of playing with the same old toys, your boredom had reached its peak and you had decided that you would venture about and find something else to do. standing up, you stretched out your little legs and went waddling over to the toy box, searching for anything else to dig out and begin entertaining yourself with.

the toy box had been placed opposite to the teachers desk (which was also situated beside the interactive whiteboard). the rest of the room had five separate group tables leaving the centre of the room empty and bare (space for you and your classmates to sit on the floor when miss huckleberry would sing a nursery rhyme or read a boring story book).

the toys were not appealing to the eye, but you had just seen elena holland playing with a princess doll — you wanted it. it looked pretty, and squinting your eyes from a distance told you that the princess was actually rapunzel.

you wanted it even more now. rapunzel was the best disney princess in your opinion. you wanted that doll.

elena holland had always sat and listened to your scary stories, she had quietly listened to every single one of them since the first ever group circle had been initiated. therefore, by default, the doll had to be yours.

confidently, you marched up to elena, smiling as she noticed you approaching. you did not beat around the bush, nor did you attempt to sugar coat what you wanted.

"you have to give me that doll."

and the most shocking thing had happened to you after that.

elena had said:

"no."

startled, stupefied, and shocked, you looked back at her, scanning her pale face with disgust. you would give her the benefit of the doubt... perhaps with all the stories you had told, maybe she had forgotten the rules, the outcomes, or the consequences of not listening to your instructions.

that was quite all right. you were more than happy to remind her.

"okay, well, because you said no to me, bloody mary is my friend and she's gonna come and kill you... so yeah."

and you had found yourself absolutely flabbergasted when the girl had a well-prepared response to that. it had clearly been thought out.

"that's not true," said elena.

you frowned. "huh?"

"bloody mary's not real," she clarified for you, as if you had made up the story for your own enjoyment (which, you had, but that was not the point).

you resisted the urge to snatch the doll from her hands and run off with it, uncaring of whether she cried or not, unbothered as to whether you would end up in the naughty corner for the third time that day. your only concern was who had broken the news to her, who had ruined the entire purpose of your stories.

probably a teacher, you thought to yourself, scowling in annoyance.

well now it meant that you had to repair the damage. what a hassle.

"someone told me," elena added, as though that comment was ever so helpful (it was not).

"okay," you shrugged, acting careless. "don't blame me when bloody mary comes to you at night. i warned you."

elena had not wasted any more time in giving you the doll; you were pleased

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the next few days were rather unpleasant. you had not been in the greatest mood on one particular morning: the sun had woken you up that day, your mother had forced you to go in to kindergarten despite your strong protests, you had lost the class game, and you had been sent to the naughty corner at one point — which, on a normal day, would not have bothered you in the slightest: the issue lied with the stupid assistant teacher that had been told to watch over you because apparently, you could not be trusted to stay put. not to mention, you had an extra ten minutes in comparison to the other kids.

you had no plans on doing your typical story-tellings, yet your other classmates had been bugging you since the moment you had passed the double doors on your way in. initially, you refused them, in foolish hopes of the fact that they'd accept it and move on.

they didn't.

they pleaded for your story, claiming that they would truly stay silent, no questions, as you entertained them. you did not believe it, not even a sock could silence the annoying giggles and chatter of those classmates of yours.

but to stop their consistent begging, you had given in (albeit, reluctantly) and not long after, you found yourself sitting in that circle again, waiting for everyone to gather themselves.

"oh my god, kenji, shut up!" you scolded the dark haired boy who had been laughing loudly and preventing you from starting. your tone was harsh, aware that this particular classmate of yours would not take any offence to your comments towards him (unlike anyone else, who you knew would end up in tears, resulting in you sitting in that naughty corner once again).

"sorry," kenji lee chuckled, but you could not help but think that he did not look one bit sorry.

as the chatter around you began to die down, you repressed the urge to rip the stupid bow placed on your head that had been pulling on a particular strand of your hair for some time, and throw it at someone (kenji).

impatiently, you handed the torch to the girl next to you: you had very little tolerance for the struggle of attempting to switch the light on without wasting time. as you waited for her to click it on, you noticed that she was a newcomer, you had never seen her in class and you knew for a fact that she was not in the other class either. surely you would have been told?

the girl proved to be helpful, she had successfully switched the torch on and with a small 'thanks', you took the torch from her hands and placed it beneath your chin (again, almost blinded from the angle of the light shining just below your eyes).

this time around, you did not waste time with a slow introduction to your story, caring less and less for the enjoyment of your peers.

"so there was this man and his name is freddy krueger," you began, watching confusion rise on your classmates' faces. perhaps they were used to your long introductions (the typical 'once upon a time' etc). you did not care for it. "he used to be very handsome and then his wife found out that he was cheating on her and then burnt his face."

as promised, none of the kids raised their hands to ask 'how?' or question something very obvious. your bad mood had been knocked down an inch.

"so now he comes for naughty kids who keep cheating in games," you stated, staring specifically at christopher allen who you strongly believed to have cheated in order to win the class game that morning (stupid miss huckleberry had been adamant that he had truly won fair and square).

the silence that you had been revelling in for a short moment had been interrupted harshly. you'd heard malakai's aggravating voice distract you, ripping you from your hardening glare towards christopher, whose eyes were slowly starting to water for whatever reason.

"did fred have —"

you interrupted him.

"no you can't call him that, only i can."

malakai's eyebrows raised so far up, there were lines on his forehead. another voice cut in through the conversation: it was abby milton.

"y/n, how are you friends with every single bad guy?" she had asked, curious.

you had no choice but to step in and correct her.

"they're not bad guys because i changed them so yeah... they're mis— mis— misuntood."

you were ninety-nine percent sure that none of the kids in the circle knew what that word meant, but none of them dared to ask.

"oh, i forgot," you added, just as you had nearly placed the torch away. hurriedly, you brought it right back beneath your chin. "if — if — if — if you, like, don't keeping on telling off me... then he... umm... yeah, he won't kill you."

you did not specify (with your eyes or your voice) who you were referring to, but you had decided that the same went for the rest of the kids anyway. that naughty corner would be the death of you, you were sure of it. at least now, with this threat looming over their heads, you would not be in the naughty corner for a long, long time to come.

shortly after, you had quickly put the torch away and made your way to the book corner, attempting to entertain yourself with some of the new books the kindergarten had gotten. several of the other kids had decided that they were not done yet, that they still had questions that remained unanswered about freddy krueger. the only thing that deterred them was the threat that you would never tell another story if they bothered you this much again. 

looking disappointed, and mildly annoyed, they had walked off, grumbling about how they had no way to protect themselves from yet another evil entity. you shrugged it off, distracted by the pretty fairy lights and cushions decorating the book shelf. pleased with the presentation of the area, you admired the way the warm colour emanated from the little light bulbs attached to the silver wire. several posters lined the top of the bookshelf, promoting 'silent reading' and so on.

accompanying you some time later had been abby milton, complaining about how she wanted you to give more clarification about freddy krueger (you tried not to sigh loudly, thinking about how you had only just gotten peace about the matter).

"i'll tell miss," she decided on saying at last, something that had finally caught your attention after practically ignoring her pleas since the moment she had sat down beside you.

"freddy krueger will come get you in night time then."

and you were certain (after she had voiced out her response to that) that you were facing deja vu for the first time.

"somebody said you're lying," said abby, swiping her messy hair away from her face. "somebody said freddy krueger isn't real."

you attempted to mask over the fury you had now adopted, trying to hide the mix of confusion and curiosity too: as if your mood wasn't already terrible, you were practically a ticking time bomb, and the timer was slowly reaching its peak.

but your suspicions were now confirmed — there was someone out there sabotaging you: if it had been a teacher, like you originally suspected, then, one: you would have found yourself in time out again, and two: she wouldn't have threatened to tell off of you, seeing as the teacher would have already known about it.

it was one of your classmates. you were certain now.

reminded of the fact that not all of your peers entered the circle of your story-telling time, you could narrow down your options. someone outside of the circle was your culprit.

but again, you were not in the mood to spend the time investigating. so, instead, you decided to flat out ask her who this mystery person was.

"well they're a liar," you said, standing up and dusting yourself off, looking around. "they basically want you to get — to — to die." you looked down at her, brows furrowed. "anyways who even said that?"

"megumi."

and now you were more than offended. you were absolutely ready to beat down a boy, but for a fellow girl to turn around and stab you in the back with no remorse? that stung. it felt like she (whoever she was) had plunged a knife right through your back and pushed it all the way to your heart, practically carving out your insides to her pleasure.

ignoring her calls for you, you walked away and exited the classroom, standing in the playground and looking furtive. the sun shone over the unused bikes and the abandoned hula-hoops on the floor as members of both classes ran around and played together. the sight hurt your eyes, the headache of yours stirring even further and worsening with each passing minute.

and what was worse? malakai, that annoying peer of yours, had appeared in front of you somehow. you had looked away for a mere second, how had he reached you without your awareness?

"can you please tell me what freddy krueger stays away from? i'm scar—"

"listen," you started, the timer in you now at one digit numbers, "i forgot to say that fred also kills people who keep bov— bovering me, so you have to leave me alone."

just when you thought you were done with this conversation, someone else had decided to join in, but once they had spoken...

you were certain your hunt for the enemy had been over.

"stop lying."

leisurely, your head turned. it seemed as though a thousand years had gone by, but really, it had only been a short fifteen seconds till you had turned enough to be met with the sight of a... a boy?

a million and one questions had passed your mind in that short moment you made eye contact with the boy who looked as though you had eradicated his entire bloodline. had you misheard abby? you were certain the name of the sabotag-er was megumi, a girl name. 

but you were absolutely, one hundred percent, definitely certain that this boy was unquestionably the one going around ruining your plans, corrupting the minds of your classmates to turn them against you.

and the kid looked goofy too, you had thought, with his dark-as-night hair standing on all ends, his equally-as-dark eyes half-lidded as if he had not a care in the world, and his face forming an unmoveable frown, looking more than unimpressed. 

well that made sense. the metaphorical knife was now non-existent, since your initial assumption had been correct — it was a dumb boy after all.

"who," you began, defensive, "are you? i've never even seen you in my life."

but it wasn't (who you assumed was) megumi that answered. you had just realised that malakai was still in the picture.

"that's megumi guro!" he had said, loud and clear.

you regarded him with a short look before staring back at megumi guro, who had somehow appeared more grumpier than when you had first gazed at him. 

"it's fushi-guro," said megumi what's-his-face.

you scowled at him. 

"if you keep saying that again and again and again, freddy krueger's gonna come to you in the —"

"he's not even real."

malakai had gasped. you glared at megumi fushiguro.

"you know what? you're not even real megumi fushigo!"

"it's fushiguro," he repeated, stoic.

"i said that."

"no you didn't."

malakai had disappeared by this point, perhaps bored with this interaction between you and megumi fushiguro.

"yes i did," you repeated, frustrated. no other kid had ever challenged you, this megumi child was starting to put a bad taste in your mouth.

"no you —"

"yeah stop subject changing."

"you mean changing the subject."

"oh my gosh!" you exclaimed, scratching at your thigh which proved to be unsatisfying seeing as your tights were in the way. "you listen here with your girl’s name! you are a girl!"

"..."

megumi fushiguro had not said anything for a while, choosing to stay silent as he stared back at you. uncertain of whether you had seen it properly, but you could have sworn that you'd seen his eye twitch ever so slightly.

"not a girl's name," he grumbled quietly.

you gave him a tight-lipped smile. 

"liar, liar, pants on fire!" you shouted, pointing at him like he had committed a brutal crime in front of your very eyes. smug, you looked at him with a real smile this time. "who's the liar now?"

but megumi's response had come just as quick as you had finished yours.

"still you."

"no, it's both of us!"

"you just admitted to lying."

"..."

astounded, staggered, and stupefied, you stared back at megumi, mouth parted and jaw dropped. you had only just realised your mistake there, the smugness you had previously adopted now diminished and killed just as it had come. nobody had ever rendered you speechless before, you had always gotten your way. usually, people would simply leave you to have the last word in defeat, but this megumi... megumi had got you there, because you just had admitted to lying.

"...MIIIIIIISS, megumi slapped my butt!"

"megumi did not slap your butt y/n."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"now you want to go to school, huh?" your mother mused as she pulled your hair back into a ponytail and began tying a silk ribbon into it.

it had been a week since you had met megumi fushiguro, and since then, it seemed as though he was everywhere. every story you had scared your other classmates with, he just had to be there to tell them the truth, corrupting them (in your eyes).

he had been actively undoing every tale you would tell and it was starting to irritate you. the only way you could win this silent battle was actually attending kindergarten, even if you had a pounding headache and had woken up on the wrong side of bed.

now you were seated on the floor, your mother on the soft couch as she worked to style your hair.

"i don't want to go," you grumbled, hissing when your mother had accidentally pulled at your hair ('oh, sorry honey'). "but i have to."

"yes, you do," your mother hummed in agreement, and you had quickly corrected her.

"no, not like that, mommy," you said, playing with the ends of your skirt as you attempted to explain yourself and what you really meant. "i have to because — because there's this really dumb boy that's just keeping on ruining things.”

"you mean keeps on ruining things?"

you sighed loudly, feeling restless. at the moment, the way you spoke was the least of your concerns. your mother could correct you later, not when you were in distress.

"i'm sorry, go on," she said, but you could hear the amusement in her voice, as if she’d made an attempt to mask her laughter (it didn't work). "what's his name?"

"he has a girl name," you said, feeling smug again. “i told him he has a girl name.”

"y/n, that's not nice," said mom, although she was gentle with her scolding.

"he's not nice," you replied defensively. “anyways, his name is megumi."

your mom laughed softly, tightening your pony tail and then leaning forward to fix the baby hairs with a bit of gel. she knew to use very little of it seeing as you disliked the way it felt on your head.

"that is a girl name, isn't it?"

"mhm," you nodded ('y/n don't move, i'll make a mistake).

"but…” she said, lifting you and putting you on the couch so you were now facing each other in order to do the front of your hair neatly. she spoke slowly so as to remain concentrated on your hair. "you still... can't... say that now, can you... hm, y/ n?"

you shrugged, and then immediately apologised when you realised you had moved.

"he deserves it."

“i'm sure... he does." said mom, smiling ever so slightly. "he's... megumi-what?"

she used a small toothbrush to clean out the sides of your forehead.

"megumi fushigo."

your mother paused, leaning back and staring at you in surprise. the toothbrush was still firm in her grip, but it was no longer pressed against your hair due to her arms deflating. she raised her eyebrows at you, mouth parted in what looked like to you as realisation.

"you mean fushiguro?" she said, taking you by surprise too.

"yeah, i said that," you responded easily. "how do you know him?"

"oh no, i don't know him,” she told you honestly, lifting the toothbrush and getting back to work with the gel again. “but i know the fushiguros. they live across from us, y/n.”

you looked up at your mom, mouth agape.

"he's our neighbour?"

"they have been... for... some time... yes," she answered, nodding slightly.

it seemed as though the universe was on your side: this meant that you could sabotage him if you really wanted to, too. who was to stop you from shouting out his door number in class? what if you met his parents and made a formal complaint about him? surely even a five year old could have some influence over matters such as a small rivalry?

"can i egg his door?"

“y/n."

"sorry."

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

"y/n, you know the boogeyman guy?" said amira khalil, timid after she'd explained how she had to work up the courage to approach you.

you nodded.

"yeah, my mommy and i feed him every night," you said calmly, head down as you coloured in the big monster you'd drawn. "i think i already told you about him."

"you did,” said amira, confirming your thoughts. she was twiddling her thumbs, looking nervous. “i searched up him online with my older sister... i saw a video."

you looked up at her, patiently waiting for her to complete her sentence. she must have approached you for more than just some small information on what she'd got up to with her sister the other night. you guessed that maybe it had something to do with your knowledge.

"how do i protect myself from the boogeyman?" she finally asked, picking at her nails.

you shrugged.

“if my mommy and me forget to feed him, then he might come out."

amira's hesitant smile had dropped completely, brows raised and lip wobbling.

"but it's okay! we always remember to feed him," you reassured her. “but sometimes i can forget when someone distracts me — like if you — if you keeping on using the colouring pens when i need them — sometimes — sometimes it stays on my mind so i forget to feed him in the night.”

the poor girl did not look reassured in the slightest.

"but... but what if you get distracted over somefing else and then — then you f-forget to feed him?"

"that won't happen because he's not even real," said megumi, who had somehow appeared behind you despite this classroom not being his.

amira's cheeks flushed a warm colour.

“he’s not?"

you slammed your hand against the table and stood up.

“this is distracting me" you snapped, to which amira's eyes had widened and she realised what that meant.

"don't worry! i'll try and get my mom to remind your mom to feed him tonight."

and thankfully, before megumi could interrupt her straight-forward thoughts even further, she ran away, heading for the toilets.

you sighed irritably. this interaction had completely altered the rest of your day. instead of sitting in front of the tv for the rest of the evening, now you had a change of plans: sit by the home telephone and impersonate your own mother to make sure the news never got to your mom.

"why are you even here? this isn't your class, imposter!"

"i had to give something to miss huckleberry."

"go away, fushigo."

“it's — never mind."

———

"y/n, are you meant to be here?" miss turner had asked you, but only after you had entered the doors of the other class.

you noticed the most biggest difference between your classroom and the other classroom: the teacher’s desk was not on the left side, it was on the right. furthermore, there were only four group tables, not five, leaving more carpet space. instead of two toy boxes, there were three, filled to the brim with toys like lego, dolls and trucks.

you preferred your own classroom, especially when this one's bookshelf lacked any personality (where were the pretty fairy lights?).

"yeah, i am," you answered with a smile. "i — um — i had — i had to — i had to give something to you from miss huckleberry."

"oh?" said miss turner, and you had seen her big, brows eyes scan your empty hands. on instinct, you put them behind your back and smiled. "so... what is it? where is it?"

"um —”

and then you heard that dawdling voice again.

"it's not even real.”

you desperately wanted to turn around and elbow him in the face. you were the same height, it would have definitely worked too, but though you were impulsive, you were not reckless — in the direct presence of a teacher, his teacher too, you knew better.

miss turner's eyes had darted from you to megumi, curiosity lacing her soft features.

"what do you mean by that, megumi?"

"she's lying, miss."

one day, you vowed, as miss turner walked you back to your class by your hand, you will find a way to annoy him just as much as he annoys you.

———

the playground seemed even bigger now that everyone had been occupied by the new toys brought to fill the toy boxes inside. at first, you felt excited about it: new toys meant new entertainment. however, after seeing what the toys were, it had not taken you too long to lose interest.

still, there were a fair few of you outside, playing tag and running around till your breaths ran out.

you were on the twin swings with gabriela robinson (short name: gabi). it would have been enjoyable if that teacher assistant wasn't practically breathing down your neck, making sure everyone was behaving. why couldn't she have watched from the top of the slide? it created a wider field of vision anyway, why was she choosing to stand behind you?

“look, it’s megumi on the bike!” gabi had pointed out.

indeed, she was correct: it really was megumi on a bike, simply riding around with it in circles.

boring, you thought in your head.

"you know, megumi has a girl name, how funny is that?" you gossiped in hushed tones, chuckling and giggling at the thought just as megumi had passed you with the bike.

you almost choked on your own giggles when megumi slid to a stop right in front of you. he did not look pleased.

"y/n, that's not very nice," that annoying voice of the teacher assistant had cut in.

your smile fell, serious-looking as you turned your head to look back at her and say, “i wasn't talking to you."

the woman's face had turned angry.

"go to the naughty corner!"

you did not put up a fight. you got off the swings, glared at megumi (he was still looking at you without any visible emotion) and then walked yourself back inside.

you made another vow to yourself: that stupid teacher assistant would be your enemy from that day onwards.

———

"i saw your dad yesterday," you said to megumi, approaching him on the playground by the sand pit.

neither of you were in the sand pit. in fact, megumi looked disgusted at the mere sight of it. he was such a picky person in your mind — had he spent most of recess simply judging the sand pit?

he seriously needed help.

"why is he so fat?" you asked bluntly.

if your statement earlier hadn't caught his attention, what you just commented did. oddly enough, he did not look as offended as you had expected him to be. he simply looked... baffled, as though the way his dad looked was self-explanatory (which, it was, he was fat in your eyes, so why did he look at you like what you had just asked was all sorts of wrong?).

"he's not fat,” he said, just as bluntly. he stared back at you as though it were obvious.

"yes he is," you shot back, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. "i saw him. and i saw him taking you to school so that — that means he's fat in the morning and fat at night too!"

he exhaled through his mouth, looking away and grumbling something about how he thought his mom was lying about you living near. you ignored that, still demanding answers.

"so why is he fat?"

“he’s not,” said megumi, emphasising the final word. “it’s his muscles.”

"does he eat too much?" you questioned as if you hadn't heard him. "what do you guys always have for dinner? probably — probably — er — burgers and fries and soda and lots of ice cream right? but your dad maybe takes too much, is that why you're so skinny?"

megumi's gaze hardened, face stony as he clarified harshly, "it's called muscles.”

but then a thought had just occurred to you, one that had you absolutely startled and staring off into space, watching as alexa clement hopped off the swings and left it moving back and forth with momentum. what if, you questioned to yourself, megumi ended up like his dad? what if he ended up learning how to be extremely fat?

you didn't hate megumi, of course. you never hated him, you just found him to be a thorn at your side. however, that did not mean that you would allow even a thorn at your side to grow as fat as his very father.

"megumi...”

and now you found yourself unwilling to imagine a very unhealthy and fat megumi, yet your brain just did not listen to you, the picture already set in your head. you slowly turned your head to look at him, eyes wide with worry.

"what.”

"oh my gosh... what if you end up like that?"

he looked as deadpanned as ever.

“i won’t.”

"megumi it's — it's gonna be fine because — because my mommy learned me how to make a lunchbox," you explained seriously. "i’ll help you make a healfy one so you — like — you don't look like your dad and become fat.”

"leave me alone," he said, annoyed.

he kicked and stomped at the floor, the sand left over flying up and entering your mouth. you coughed and spat at the floor, shouting at megumi, but you had heard the sound of his footsteps distancing themselves from you, a little too fast to be considered a walk. he had run away from you after leaving you to practically die at the taste of sand.

“MIIIIIIISS!”

———

the middle of october meant that there would be a parent-teacher conference. although it seemed too early (the other kindergarten schools do it much later on in the year) the one week holiday was nearing and it meant that a formal report had to be given to your parents about your behaviour, attitude to learning, relationships with other students, etc.

a lot of the parents had lined up by the double doors, the wall separating the two classrooms had been pushed away somehow (you had sat staring at it for a while) and the classrooms were now merged to be one big ‘boss' classroom (as you would say).

with the rest of you students having nothing to do but wait for your parents to finish their individual meetings with your teachers, you all huddled together and made conversation. you learnt the names of the students from the other class, interacted with them, and asked which of the adults were their parents.

your mother seemed to be running late, so you couldn't answer that question.

but someone (david yeboah) had asked megumi (who was standing across from you) who his dad was.

after megumi's stunt the other day, you felt the need to get back at him, embarrass him if you will. anyway, it wasn't your fault that his dad didn't have a healthy diet.

“guys,” you said loudly, as though you were making an important announcement — you were. "megumi's dad is a fatty!"

all of the kids stared at you in awe, some had even whispered ‘really?'. you nodded, ignoring the hard stare megumi was directing at you.

"yeah," you said in a hushed tone, quiet, but loud enough for all of the kids to hear you. “i saw him, he's really big, it's true! megumi's dad is a fatty —"

you turned around, nearly bumping head first into... megumi's dad's legs. you looked up, heart pounding from the vision above you.

if you thought he was big from a distance, then god knows what you thought now. his chest took up your entire sight, he was large enough to crush you with his fat hands if he so pleased.

the smirk that you had seen him wear before in the early mornings by his house had faded now. though, to your pleasure, he did not look angry at all. sure, his dark brows were knitting together as he looked down at you, and sure, his eyes were squinted. but he looked more confused than he did angry.

still, the realisation that he had heard you call him a 'fatty' made your heart race. not to mention, he looked terrifying from down there.

without a word, you simply turned the other way and speed-walked to the toy box, distancing yourself from him.

"woah…” you muttered to yourself, pressing a hand to your chest and feeling your heart beat hardly against it. “scary.”

———

you were sat by the book corner, a few other people occupying the bean bags with you. the school had bought a ton of new books for you to read, so lately, you'd been spending most of your time by the bookshelves and less and less of your time terrorising the other kids (and that teacher assistant).

you believed that the new books had been the best investment the school had made. however, it was bothersome when the other kids would beg you for story times again when you were clearly occupied.

besides that, it was blissful being able to find new entertainment in such a boring place.

at the moment, you had been showing your classmates the fiction book you had in your hands, a book that miss huckleberry stated had been shipped straight from the uk (someone failed in doing a good british accent too and it made you cringe).

it was about this girl (she had a silly name, you thought) called goldilocks and her adventure with the house belonging to three talking bears.

"no, david, that's not how the story went," you said wisely. “the baby bear went back in the room and saw goldilocks ru— ru— ruining everyfing.”

"that's not even real.”

you looked up: megumi was standing by the entrance of the book fort you had made for the book corner. he looked serious (when did he not?) and he was staring at the book held up in your small hands. in his own arms was a larger book, thin enough to imply that there wasn't much story to it, but unlike the other books, the book he possessed had real life images as its cover.

"it's goldilocks and the three bears," you informed him, eyes narrowed.

"yeah... and it's not even real."

"it's a book!"

he held up his own one.

"this is a book too."

"yeah, so that's not real either!"

"it is,” he said, with a tone of finality.

you were not having it:

"how come your book is real and mine isn't?"

"mine is non-fiction," said megumi, and you felt glee in your chest when he nearly stuttered over the word 'non-fiction’. megumi had never stuttered before, but he was also not super human either. he was the same as the rest of you. "yours is fiction. fiction means fake —"

"MIIIIIIISS! MEGUMI’S LYING!"

"y/n i am sitting right near you, you do not have to yell.”

———

though the academic year had not even been close to ending, the kindergarten had made a boring, old tuesday an open-day for future students to attend. current students were still required to go to school like usual, only, towards home-time, the kindergarten would be open till eight o’clock in the evening.

the year before, you had not stayed that late, seemingly bored with the idea. this year, however, your mother had to work late and could not pick you up. conveniently (for her, not you), the open-day fell right on her work overtime-day. she did not have to call for one of your aunts to come look after you (a hassle for her, really, because although her family loved you, they believed that you were a devil-child, hence the difficulty in trying to get them to come over).

several other kids had stayed back too, but only out of their own will.

apart from one particular child — megumi fushiguro.

he did not look happy at the prospect of staying for longer than when the clock hit three o’clock (home-time). you shared his displeasure silently, though there really was no need for him to be there, you noted, for you had seen his father accompany other parents by the coffee stand.

had he been forced there too? megumi’s fat dad looks annoyed, you thought to yourself.

you did not dwell too much on the thought, for you and the remaining kids had decided to play hide-and-seek. some of the new kids — accompanied by their parents — had joined in too. you did not mind, the more the merrier, especially when your actual classmates had refused to allow you not to be seeker.

you shrugged, uncaring of which role you played in the game.

so, eyes shut, you counted from one to twenty:

“one… two… three…” you counted, already bored. you continued. “…ten… eleven… twelve-thirteen-fourteen-fifteen —”

“hey no fair that’s cheating!” some whiny voice you didn’t recognise had spoken.

you scowled, turning around to see who it was: no surprise, it had been some random kid, not one of your classmates who knew better than to doubt you.

“found you, you’re out.”

the ginger kid looked scandalised.

“but —”

“sixteen… seventeen… eighteen…”

he ran off crying somewhere.

“nineteen-twenty!” you shouted quickly, jumping up and uncovering your eyes excitedly. “ready or not, here i come!”

you skipped along the classroom, picking out several dumb kids who had hidden in places that were very obvious to you. another one of those random new kids had stayed in the centre of the carpet (which was out in the open), crouched with his eyes shut.

you stared at him, deadpanned.

“i found you.”

and he had the audacity to ask “how?”.

dumb kid, you thought, as you walked out to the playground and saw some kids hiding behind the slide. in order to get there, you had to pass the coffee stand.

the sight of the teacher assistant looking bored and annoyed pleased you: a smile radiated your face which had previously been decorated with scowls and frowns.

you skipped past megumi’s dad along the way.

“hey fat-man we’re just playing hide-and-seek!” you informed him happily.

you did not wait for his response as you continued to run away, a jump in your step as you slowly got closer and closer to the slide; you had passed a stoic megumi, who simply stood there as you casually insulted his father. you could have sworn that you heard the insulted man audibly grunt, muttering something that sounded like ‘who is that child?’.

you did not have the time to entertain his questions: those kids were getting away.

———

mondays were the worst days in your opinion: it was the start of the week, meaning that you still had four more days to go before the weekend would arrive. the weekend was also only two days long, one day which you would spend stressing about monday being the day after that. it was unnecessary stress for a five year old.

mondays were also the days where that annoying teacher assistant would stay in your class more than the other class. you didn’t want her there, so why was she always present? it irked you, she held no purpose, really.

it had been nearing lunch time as you sat on the grass on the playground with two other girls: kimberly garnett and alexa clement. they had been telling you about how, apparently, a boy from the other class (alejandro henderson) had a crush on one of the girls from your class, though it was undiscovered who.

ultimately, it was a gossip session.

but the conversation of alejandro and his secret crush was starting to bore you. it was not long before the topic had changed.

“why is megumi alone all them times?” said kimberly, who had craned her head over her shoulder to look at the dark-haired boy — he was staring at some cat that had somehow ended up in the playground.

none of you had actually answered the question. none of you ever answered any questions, you simply spoke for the sake of it.

you leaned in, face gleaming with excitement as you put a hand over your mouth to whisper.

“megumi looks like a porcupine —”

“y/n!”

you stared up at the teacher assistant who somehow spawned in front of you. her eyes were fierce and demanding, staring at you with indignation. how had she heard you? you had been certain that you were whispering. did she somehow have super ears?

you did not say anything, choosing to remain silent. she raised a pointed brow at you, as though to say ‘explain yourself’, but you did not submit.

instead, with a sigh, you stood up, dusted your skirt off, and walked yourself back inside, claiming the time-out seat without having to be asked. and all the while, you felt eyes burn holes at the back of your head, knowing full well that they did not belong to the nosy teacher assistant.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

the autumn season had hit hard as the month of october had slowly come to an end. by the point it had turned into november, you were now attending school with mittens, scarves, and a big coat.

one particular morning, you had woken up feeling giddy: your hatred towards summer was unmatched. in your mind, the autumn and winter days were the best, no questions asked.

you had gotten out of bed with a smile (for the first time in a while) and attended kindergarten without any protests — your mother had been pleasantly surprised and there were no complaints.

even the sight of megumi did not evoke annoyance out of you.

the kids had stopped asking for the stories you would tell seeing as darkness would hit the skies earlier than what you had all been used to: it meant that there would be more time for fear of the evil entities you told them all about should they ask for the stories. it was convenient, for you could still practically control your peers through the threats of the previous stories whilst also not being annoyed by being asked for new ones. besides, halloween had only just passed too, and kenji lee had claimed that he’d seen someone dressed up as the bloody ginger-woman — you did not believe him because you made that woman up for one of your old stories. ‘she wasn’t even real,’ you had said to him, and then slapped a hand over your mouth when you realised just who you had begun to sound like.

one particular frosty day, you approached megumi on the playground and simply stood beside him, curious to see what he had been staring at for the past five minutes. he gave you an odd look, but did not question you for accompanying him.

until he did.

rudely, too, you had to add.

“why are you just standing there, megumi?”

“why is your hands so pale right now?”

“what are you staring at?”

“how does your hair stay like that?”

“why —”

“what do you even want?” he had snapped, turning his head ever so slightly so as to glare at you with his cold, dark eyes.

you laughed.

“you can’t — you can’t — you can’t answer a question with — with another question,” you told him, chuckling. “silly billy.”

“you just asked me ten hundred… million… billion questions,” he scowled, looking away from you to stare at something in the distance again.

“that’s not a number —”

“shut up.”

“i’ll tell miss.”

“miss never believes you.”

you shrugged. fair point, you had thought. he raised a good argument. it was odd, any time you told off of anyone, it always ended up backfiring. however, if it were anyone else telling off of you instead, you’d end up warming up the naughty chair for a future sitter (most likely you again) as per usual.

“so…” you began, bending your knees slightly to crouch a little and reach megumi’s downcast eyes. “you didn’t answer my question.”

“which one?”

“what are you staring at?” you repeated, standing up straight again and letting your fingers intertwine in the comfort of your unconnected pocket of your coat.

megumi hesitated before answering.

“i saw a fox when my dad dropped me off.”

you looked around, inspecting the bushes.

“well maybe you was seeing monsters,” you said wisely. “my mommy says —”

“your mom never said anything,” megumi cut in icily, “it’s always you.”

for some reason, you did not find it in you to be offended. maybe it was because he hadn’t been lying — it was true: your mother never actually said anything, you simply used her as a way to lie about untrue facts. it was good to use someone older as a guide, less people denied your statements because of them. adults simply couldn’t be wrong.

“ok,” you began, unsure of where to continue. “okay well my mommy says i have to play with lonely kids so i’m just gonna play with you, all right?”

megumi, with his hands shoved in his designer coat (he was rich? his father didn’t look rich), glared at you, looking mildly offended. what had you said wrong?

it seemed that you would never know, not when he hadn’t bothered to say.

“no,” he said instead, and his tone seemed final.

you grinned. “oh, was that a yes?”

“no— i said no.”

you ignored him, feeling fidgety as you perked up excitedly.

“okay ready steady tag you’re it!”

you tapped him on his arm, excitedly running away from him. you knew that he wouldn’t chase after you, so you opted to not run very far and then skip around him, running in circles as he remained in the centre. and as per usual, he wore his signature scowl.

“stop it you’re making me dizzy,” said megumi.

you didn’t stop. you continued to run around him in circles, urging him to play.

“don’t you know how to play tag?” you asked, teasingly. “you know everything except tag —”

“no,” said megumi, but you could tell his resolve was faltering.

“i’m gonna keep running around you megumi! it’s fun!”

megumi stood completely still as your excitement grew, the blood beneath your skin running with adrenaline as the beat of your heart increased. with you alternating between skips and runs, you were slowly growing out of breath; mixed with your laughter only made it harder to keep it all up.

until the circles had stopped — megumi’s eye twitched and the next thing you knew, the dark haired boy was charging at you.

you squealed, frightened as you tried jogging away, but with how much you had ran in circles previously, your speed was not your greatest. it felt like a dream, your feet hitting the ground slowly.

“no — megumi —” you shouted, scared as you looked back and saw him catching up. “i didn’t” — you gasped for air — “think” — you exhaled — “you would” — you let out a breath — “actually chase me!”

and you had learnt a new thing about megumi that day: as small as you both were, his little legs took him far. he was probably the most speediest kid you had seen in your five years of living, the lesson learnt extremely well when you felt a hand press against your shoulder, pushing you forwards as you stumbled and halted, nearly falling over as you gathered your breath.

you turned around, shoulders raising and falling, chest heaving as you stared at him. his hair was still as dishevelled as ever, but he looked more ruffled than he usually did, tiny breaths of air falling from his nose.

“got you,” he had mumbled under his breath, staring back at you fiercely.

you looked back at him, scrambling for excuses.

“actually you didn’t get me,” you told him, extending your arm to hold onto the red roundabout, the crisp autumn leaves decorating its floor. “see? i’m home. you can’t get me because i’m safe.”

you gestured to the connection between your touch and the roundabout.

megumi’s brows had furrowed, a crease forming between his dark brows on his pale skin. he did not seem to agree with you, but unlike the other kids, it seemed as though he would keep up an argument with you.

“you just made that up,” he said, sounding confident in his statement.

“no,” you denied, truthfully. “ask — ask — er —” you stammered, looking around for a potential helper.

david had been crossed off the list immediately — he was rather stupid. kenji had been crossed too — he would try and go against you out of fun. nia akello, a girl from the other class you and megumi were both familiar with, would be perfect. she was not biased and had also been a victim of the ‘home’ rule in tag you’d introduced some time before.

“ask nia!” you said brightly, and before megumi could say anything in an argument, you waved at nia and called for her. “nia! hey! over here!”

confused and shocked, nia akello ran over to where you and megumi had been standing, out of breath by the time she had reached the two of you (it had been a short distance, arguably).

“nia, isn’t it true that —”

“shut up you’ll cheat,” snapped megumi.

you hadn’t been silenced by him, necessarily, you had been silenced into shock. and offence. you were very offended by the way he had spoken to you publicly.

whether he’d seen your expression or not, he had made no indication, for megumi had not wasted a second before he rushed into speaking to nia.

“is ‘home’ real in tag?”

“yep!” said nia, beaming. “can i go now?”

“n—”

“yes you can, nia,” you smiled, shooing her away before megumi could corrupt her into believing that a ‘home’ in tag did not exist.

to be completely honest, it didn’t exist. you simply made that up when you got tired of running so much and needed a break. in your defence, it was good! it made the game more interesting after all, what’s not to like about it?

apparently quite a lot of things, for megumi did not look the tiniest bit impressed (not that you had expected him to be anyway).

“fine,” said megumi, taking you by surprise. you took your hand off the roundabout as you listened to him speak. “the swings is the new home.”

“what —”

“i’m gonna chase you now.”

megumi took a step back, sliding his feet against the concrete as an act of intimidation — it was working.

you scrambled to look for an out.

“but —”

“five… four…”

“megumi —”

“three…”

“that’s not fai—”

“two…”

“wait!”

“one-and-a-half…”

“UGH!” you sighed, jumping up and running away with as much speed as you could gather.

megumi was on your heels the second you had taken off, having reached zero on his countdown. you had realised (as you pushed past several people to get away from the evil child), that you had foolishly ran away without looking at where you were heading, now finding yourself further and further away from the swings.

you looked back, cautious, and immediately regretted it when megumi’s face appeared inches from your own.

you let out a yelp at the sight of his raised hand and swerved away.

“this is —” you gasped out, scrunching up your dress as you ran; you had very nearly been caught, “SCARY!”

your throat grew dry, panting for breath whilst you dodged megumi’s hand. you made the dumb decision of looking back again, letting out a squeak when you had realised just how close he was getting.

“I WANT MY MOMMY —”

it had seemed that your call for your mother had drawn the attention of miss turner, the teacher of the other class. previously, she had been looking over the sandpit and making sure your peers hadn’t been making a mess, but as you neared it, she’d looked up and caught you sprinting.

“y/n? what’s —”

“MIIIIIIIISS!” you cried, just as megumi’s palm had fallen flat against your back.

dramatically, you tumbled forwards, sliding against the concrete and lying against it despite your disgust with all the dirt.

you opened your eyes, met with the sight of megumi staring down at you, chest heaving as he let out little pants out of exhaustion. still, even in his tired state, he did not look the slightest bit pleased.

“i win.”

you sat up, groaning. “no you —”

megumi did not wait for you to say your piece before he left, saying something to miss turner and then entering the building again without looking back at you.

and all the while, you smiled at the thought that you had basically forced megumi to play with you.

but that had been before you’d taken a look at the state you were in, and then inwardly cursed at yourself for playing such a dangerous game with a kid who had little care for anything at all.

home-time that day had been amusing too. your mother had been running late (miss huckleberry had informed you earlier) so you spent the time sitting outside with members of the other class and getting to know them better — it was mainly due to the fact that the teacher assistant had once again been breathing down your neck, you simply had to get away from her.

your chats were being cut short as the parents began turning up, which made you rather bored.

up until the point where megumi had to leave.

megumi had been sitting in the corner, a little two meter distance between you and the rest of his class. you had no idea whether that was a normal thing or not, you didn’t bother questioning it, merely chatting along with the other girls.

but then you’d heard miss turner say something rather interesting.

“megumi,” she had said, calling out to him from beside you. “you can go, your dad’s here.”

when indeed, his dad was not there. you frowned, looking around for the fat man that you knew to be megumi’s father. there were only several mothers, young women with strollers and other dads already occupied by their own children.

but in the far distance, approaching you all slowly, had been a man with white hair, taller than anyone you had ever seen, and wearing round, opaque sunglasses despite the weather being very gloomy.

but that simply couldn’t be megumi’s father: you knew megumi’s father. you’s seen megumi’s father. you’d spoken to megumi’s father. and that man, wearing a smirk worth gold, was certainly not megumi’s father.

and it seemed that megumi had agreed.

“he’s not my dad,” he had grumbled, hiding the lower part of his face behind his designer coat.

“yes, yes, your godfather —”

“you have a godfather?” you spoke up, curious.

megumi glared at you, eyes narrowed.

“i didn’t know that!” you beamed, looking back at the white-haired man.

you hopped off of the long bench you had been sitting on, approaching megumi without taking your eyes off of the man.

odd, you had thought then. the man looked very different, his hair colour was unique, his style was very questionable too (mainly the sunglasses). his hairstyle made sense, you decided to yourself — it was nearly as messy as megumi’s, but not quite as dishevelled.

you leaned in, placing a hand over your mouth to whisper. megumi did not lean in.

“so is your dads gay?”

he stared at you, startled.

“huh?”

it had been the first time you’d seen megumi appear shocked.

“because — because you have two dads,” you clarified helpfully. megumi still appeared to be taken aback. “so is your dads ga—”

“no,” he answered. “they don’t even like each other —”

“so why do you have two dads?”

“i don’t.”

“oh! is he your grandpapa?” you asked, eyes brightening. the white hair would make sense, then.

“no,” said megumi harshly. “he’s not anything.”

“hm,” you thought, looking at the white-haired man speaking to some other teacher. “so is he alb— albin— alban— is he albanian?”

megumi blinked at you.

“what?”

“don’t make me say it again,” you said. “it’s a hard word.”

“albanian?”

“yeah… i think. is he that?”

megumi stared at you for a short while before looking away, staring at the man you had been gossiping about. it did not click to him for some time, it seemed, for he looked as though he were in a little daydream, thinking about what you had meant. you did not have the energy to repeat yourself: as you had claimed, it was indeed a hard word.

luckily for you, a lightbulb had clicked on in megumi’s brain, and he looked at you with a frown.

“he’s not albino,” he had stated firmly. “do you even know what a godfather is?”

“yes!” you said, defensively. was he seriously accusing you of not knowing what a godfather actually was? how pathetic.

yet that look he was giving you… he was expecting you to give him the definition.

if he wanted to be proved wrong so badly, why didn’t he just say so?

you stood up straight.

“it’s when god picks your dad —”

“no.”

“but my mommy says —”

“no she never.”

you scowled at him. “it’s not my fault your dad is old!”

“he’s not my —”

“megumi!” a cheery, deep voice had interrupted casually. you looked up, a shadow fell over the two of you: it was megumi’s apparent godfather, grinning toothily and quite literally showing off his pearly whites.

from up-close, he looked like more of a giant. he had to be at least eight feel tall, you had decided. maybe home-time was always done outdoors due to people like him — it would be difficult to move past a door frame with ease.

he didn’t have any wrinkles. in fact, his skin looked quite smooth, like the skin of a teenager.

but his hair…

“my son!” said the man, arms wide open as though he were about to engulf a grumpy megumi into a bone-crushing hug — you couldn’t imagine that.

you looked at megumi, who had all but disappeared behind his coat. you resisted the urge to laugh. was megumi embarrassed?

“oh — megumi — finally made a friend?”

the man looked down at you, grinning.

“we’re not friends,” you heard megumi utter, but you ignored him (as per usual).

instead, you directed your attention to the man.

“how old are you?”

you thought you’d heard megumi groan.

the man’s grin had fallen, but reappeared just as fast as it had dropped. he bent down to your height, his arm hanging over his bent knee as he came face-to-face with you.

“why don’t you guess?”

your answer was quick.

“eighty-seven.”

and this time, when his grin had fallen, it had not returned.

“why would you say that?” snapped megumi, who had reappeared from his hiding place behind his coat. he looked irked, irritated, and annoyed. whether it had been at you or his guardian, you had no clue.

“okay… seventy nine?”

“what the hell?” demanded the man. you were unsure at who he was looking at now — his sunglasses were more opaque than they had seemed from afar.

megumi had turned away, something about ‘now i have to deal with it’ — you weren’t quite sure. you frowned, looking back at the man. he looked scandalised, outraged, and disappointed.

your jaw had dropped.

“you just sweared!” you gasped, eyes accusatory. “my mommy says swearing is bad.”

“well your mommy should’ve taught you what an old person looks like,” the man responded, a bite in his tone.

“she did! they’re like you!”

“i am not old!”

“you really aren’t?” you asked, expecting it to do less damage than it actually would.

“i’m not even twenty-one yet!” the man pouted, looking nearly faint.

“really?” you said, eyeing him up and down. “you look like — you look like you’ve — you’ve seen the world. like santa. are you santa? —”

“megumi,” said the man, standing up to his full height and turning away, adjusting the glasses sitting on top of his nose. “we’re leaving.”

“finally.”

you watched them go, frowning when the tall man looked back at you over his shoulder and stuck his tongue out at you. you scowled: father christmas was supposed to be nice to kids. maybe you needed to write a letter to the north pole about a formal complaint on him.

“guys,” you said, turning to look at the remaining kids still waiting for their parents to arrive. “i met father christmas!”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

“i know what godfather means,” you stated proudly.

you and megumi were on the bikes. you had already been seated on one, megumi was starting to climb on the one next to you. he hadn’t looked at you once as he silently placed his feet on the pedals, brows furrowed in concentration as he gripped onto the handles.

“do you want to know what my mommy said?”

you stared at him with wide eyes, smiling despite the fact that nothing was actually amusing; you were still buzzing with excitement about the fact that megumi had a godfather. how sick was that? you’d never met someone with a godfather!

“no,” said megumi, checking the bell and seeing if it was able to ring well.

ding! ding!

“i’m gonna tell you anyways,” you informed him brightly. “my mommy s—”

ding!

you paused, beginning again after you the last ring of the bell had echoed.

“my mommy —”

ding!

“she says —”

ding! ding!

you frowned.

“my mommy says tha—”

ding! ding! ding!

you scowled.

“mommy-says-that-a-godfather —”

ding! ding! ding! ding!

your eyes narrowed as you placed your feet on the pedals and began cycling so that you were now face-to-face with megumi.

“you’re doing that on purpose!” you accused him, a crease formed in between your brows when you furrowed them.

megumi shrugged. “am i?”

“you can’t —” you began, stammering, “you can’t — you can’t answer a question by asking another one.” you shook your head at him. “you just can’t.”

megumi ignored you, taking off by pedalling away from you. you watched him leave, offended, before pedalling faster to catch up with him. several kids were in your way, using hula-hoops and skipping ropes that megumi had skilfully avoided. you, on the other hand, were in a rush to catch up to the boy, so you simply used your bell to alert them of your appearance.

ding! ding!

“‘scuse me! ‘scuse me! coming through!”

you were pretty sure someone fell somewhere behind you; you did not care.

it hadn’t taken long before you’d caught up to megumi. you cycled with him, nearly bumping your bike into his.

“you’re being mean, megumi.”

“ok.”

“anyways, my mommy says a godfather is a dad your parents chosed.”

megumi let out a noise, something between a grunt and a groan. “i don’t want to talk about him.”

“it’s okay! i kept your secret… kind of,” you said, as the both of you turned your bikes in the direction of the open space in the playground.

“secret?” said megumi, glancing at you from the corner of his eye without turning his head.

“mhm!” you nodded, smiling. “your godfather is santa —”

“no he’s no—”

you interrupted him by cheekily bumping your bike with his. his reaction had not been nearly the same as you had initially imagined: instead of being motivated, he nearly fell off his bike and glared at you once he’d regained his balance.

you cleared your throat, pedalling faster as you zoomed past him.

“race you!”

you hadn’t expected to actually hear a pair of wheels following after you. but you had slowly started to grow aware of the subtle surprises megumi could bring you.

later on that day, you hadn’t felt like going back to miss huckleberry’s class. when you had told megumi that your class were going to do a colouring task together, megumi had revealed that his class were going to do a painting task together. immediately you longed for the paints rather than the colouring pencils.

it wouldn’t be you if you never tried to do something about it; feeling adventurous, when the call had been given for all kids to go back to their respective classrooms, you had followed megumi back inside the door opposite yours.

he hadn’t noticed you then, perhaps that had been the reason why he’d given you an odd look when you took the empty seat beside him on the carpet.

“you’re not allowed here.”

“‘course i am!” you replied, smiling as you sat just like him — criss-cross-apple-sauce.

you smoothed out the creases on your dress as he gave you a blank look.

“you’ll get in trouble,” he informed you as though you’d been blissfully unaware (to him, it seemed like you were).

“if you keep saying stuff like that it means that you care if i — if i get in trouble so yeah.”

he gave you a look of disgust before he turned to face the board in front of the two of you, apparently careless.

“i don’t,” he said, with a tone of finality.

you shrugged, humming to yourself as you tightened the pigtails in your hair. you liked to think that he did care, even if it was quite obvious that he did not.

as the rest of the class had nearly finished filing in and taking their seats on the carpet, ms turner had sat on the chair by the teacher’s desk, looking around at you all. you watched as her big, round eyes had passed you naturally, before they’d darted back to you in surprise.

“y/n?” she voiced aloud.

megumi let out a scoff.

“told you,” he muttered, a hand over his mouth as he rested an elbow on his knee; you ignored him.

“yes miss?” you said, as though you were unaware of what was happening.

ms turner tilted her head at you, brows knitted together.

“why are you here?” she asked you, with genuine curiosity. there was no bite in her question either.

“i don’t want to draw and colour things because i think it’s boring,” you answered truthfully. “and i don’t like the ginger lady in my class so yeah. and i like painting and i like the thingy with the water paints.”

“does miss huckleberry know you’re here?”

you shook your head.

but perhaps that had been a mistake, for you had been walked back to your classroom once more (your protests fell on deaf ears).

however, that hadn't stopped you from constantly going back, returning once more to the seat beside megumi. 

the second time you had wrongly and happily entered his classroom, you made your way down to the carpet space, ready to occupy the usually-vacant seat next to megumi, only to find that the seat had been used by megumi's knee. he'd still been sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce, of course, yet his right knee had been extended to the point where a little more than half the space had been taken.

he looked up at you once he had noticed your shadow fall over his lap. he moved his knee back in place, a blank look on his face as he did so.

"did you just put your foot on that seat?" you asked, a brow raised in disgust.

"... ye—"

"well now i can't sit there because i don't know where your foot has been and it might be dirty," you said, walking around him to sit on the vacant seat on his left instead.

his eyes followed you as you moved. you could not gauge out the expression on his face: megumi was simply too hard to read, and it bothered you a bit, but not enough to make you complain too much.

it had taken a total of twenty minutes and fifty-one seconds before you'd been spotted and then escorted out of the classroom that day.

on another random day, a similar scenario had occurred where you'd been dropped off at your actual classroom by your mother, but you swerved past the door to enter the one opposite. your mother had not questioned it, deciding that during school hours, you were not her responsibility (thank god).

when you walked over to the carpet-space, you'd seen that megumi had already arrived, only, his hand was now facing palm-down on your favourite seat. you approached him as you passed a disheartened girl (inaya farhat) who'd just had a short conversation with megumi.

he looked up at you, slowly removing his hand and placing it back on his lap.

"did you just put your hand on my seat?" you asked, disgusted once again.

he glared at you. 

"yes."

the way in which he was glaring at you had you concerned (just the slightest bit). the intensity behind the way in which he looked at you had also frightened you, he looked as though you had insulted his entire family (arguably, you were nearly there).

"erm — yeah, so i hope your hand's not dirty," you said, leisurely sitting down on your designated seat. "like — like picking your nose or scratching your bum —"

"i'm not veera," said megumi. 

you frowned.

"who's veera?"

megumi faced the board, answering without sparing you another glance. 

"if you stay in this class, you'll find out."

and you did.

you had remained in the class for days after that. it became so normalised for you to be there, that even your mother would drop you off at the opposite door of your original class without question: at some point that month, your full name had been transferred from register-to-register — megumi hadn't been bothered by that, but he became quite aggressive when you kept rubbing it in his face:

"remember when you said i wasn't allowed to —"

"i get it!"

on one particular afternoon, where parents and carers were allowed to enter the classroom and observe the work their kids had done in their respective books before collecting them, you had found yourself in a sticky situation.

after megumi's father had come in (and quite literally stood at the back and simply nodded his head at his son in acknowledgment), you and megumi had gotten into a heated debate about which types of books were better. where you were more interested in fiction and fake reality, megumi argued that non-fiction and actuality was better.

you strongly disagreed, so you attempted to prove your point by leading him to the book corner and pulling out some of your personal favourites, one of them being 'the hungry caterpillar'.

"i like this one," you told him, handing the book over to him. he looked skeptical as he flipped through the pages. "and you can't say it's not even real because it is."

"hmph," said megumi, looking grumpy.

he didn't look as displeased with your suggestions as he usually did, so you decided that you'd won him over.

"what else?" he asked.

you beamed, hurriedly bending down to where you'd hidden your most precious book. your little hand plunged itself underneath the shelf and searched for it with earnest, pulling it out once you'd felt its laminated cover beneath your skin.

"this one," you said, standing back up and presenting it to him. again, he looked skeptical, but you had won him over once, surely you could do it a second time? "noisy nora."

he took the book from your hands and, like before, skimmed through it. his face scrunched up in disgust.

"that one is my most bestest book in the whole wide wor—"

"rats can't speak."

you looked up; megumi was stoic.

your smile had turned to a scowl.

"well jokes on you, nora's not a rat. she's a mouse."

megumi ignored you, going over to his side of the book corner where the non-fiction books were kept and pulled out a large one, pages thin and smooth. he turned around and showed it to you as you bent back down and shoved 'noisy nora' back under the book shelf.

from where you were sat on your knees, you could see that the title of megumi's book read 'how a caterpillar turns into a butterfly'.

you stood back up again, analysing the cover.

"looks boring," you commented.

"it's real."

"'the hungry caterpillar' tells a real story."

you walked away from the book corner and megumi followed, still looking very unimpressed with your opinion on his most favourite book.

however, as you aimed to make your way to the toy box, you stopped just as you'd entered the carpet space at the sound of a baby. your face formed an expression of confusion. what was a baby doing here at the kindergarten?

you turned in the direction of where the sound was coming from. megumi had been quietly complaining about something, but his discontent had fallen on deaf ears, for your eyes were focused on the blonde, snotty child wobbling towards you, her blue eyes wide with excitement.

spit bubbled at the corner of her mouth, the same mouth that was slowly taking in all the snot running down her nose.

your eyes widened, horrified at the sight before you. the sight that was slowly reaching you.

"ew," you said, watching as the child wobbled and clapped her hands — one hand gripped onto a baby-blue pacifier.

"ew..." you repeated, when the same child had dropped her pacifier on the floor.

"EW!" you cried, when the child locked eye contact with you and waddled closer.

"veeraaa!" the child sang, voice high as she nearly toppled over with her uneven balance. some of her spit had dropped onto the floor, gooey and... was that a tint of green?

"EWWWW!" you cried, making an attempt to run away but realising that megumi was behind you, resistant to your constant pushing. "OH MY GOD — OH MY GOD —"

your cries had caught the attention of nearly everyone else in the room, wondering what had been causing such a ruckus.

you felt like crying when the disgusting baby still managed to walk.

"veeeraaaaa —"

"EEEEEWWWWWWW!" you shouted, struggling to push megumi away so you could run.

the blonde kid was nearly a whole metre away from you now, giggling and singing her own name.

you'd had enough — a metre was simply too close for you.

"hey — what're you —"

yelling out your disgust, your hands grabbed onto megumi and pulled him in front of you, pushing him towards the child and practically using him as a human shield. better him than you, you'd concluded.

"veeeeraaaa!"

"AAAHH — EWWWW!"

"veeeraaa —"

"what the hell?" snapped megumi, taking several steps back in an attempt to distance himself from veera.

slowly, the disgust that you held had somehow divided so that the rest of the kids held the same sentiment. all of your classmates had begun screaming: 'ew's could be heard all around you: kids made attempts to jump over tables and chairs to get away from the blonde baby, parents were used as hiding objects so their children could stand behind them, and the blonde baby turned her attention elsewhere, approaching ruth smith who burst into tears when she waddled over to him.

the baby looked at you and megumi again. amongst all the screaming and yelling, yours still managed to be the loudest.

"EEEWW!" you cried, pushing megumi forward again. he was resistant. "MEGUMI —"

"veeeeraaa," veera sang, as sofia rylee shouted at you to run. "veeeraaa —"

"my name's megumi," said megumi, sounding annoyed and offended.

the commotion had slowly started to end when another blonde woman (who you assumed was veera's mother) ran over and picked her up, holding her in her arms as she stared at you, looking very, very offended.

you didn't care. that child of hers was disgusting, this should be a lesson to her, you had decided.

and somehow you were left out of breath, panting and exhaling as the woman turned and left, followed by miss huckleberry who had appeared out of thin air.

"that was scary," you commented, a hand pressed against your chest dramatically. "so scary."

megumi had finally turned around and regarded you with a glare.

"oh yeah?" he challenged, angry. "did you get pushed to her?"

your hand been returned back to your side.

"i had to save myself!" you explained, unable to understand megumi's anger towards you. "you would do the same!"

"no i wouldn't," said megumi. "you had more than enough room to run."

his arm had been extended to present to you the space that you neglected.

before you could respond, miss huckleberry's voice had cut through the air sharply.

"mr fushiguro!" she'd said, and both you and megumi had looked up to see what had happened.

megumi's dad was leaning against the wall, which may have looked rather innocent... till you'd squinted your eyes and caught him smiling. when miss huckleberry had appeared from chasing after the woman that had left, affronted, you had no idea, but she was here, and condemning megumi's father for his silent actions.

megumi's father simply shrugged, and megumi himself walked away, apparently embarrassed.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

you and megumi found yourself seated at your specific spaces on the carpet, arguing about a situation that had occurred merely a day prior. ever since the veera incident, everyone in your new class seemed to know your name (and just how you were like). the news had also somehow travelled to your original class, and during play time, kimberly had asked what had happened: you brushed it off, claiming that any allegations against you were untrue.

that same day, you'd even waltzed back into your old classroom saying that you no longer wanted to be part of the other class, your disgust with veera taking over any other conscious part of your mind. miss huckleberry hadn't been impressed:

"no, y/n," she'd said, sounding firm. "go back to your class."

"that's not my class anymore," you'd attempted to persuade her. you looked at megumi, who had been giving you an odd look from the door. you approached him and pulled his arm. "c'mon megumi, let's go together!"

he had not complied.

that led you to the discussion you'd been having with megumi now, both stubborn in your points.

"you never got in trouble," you told megumi, scoffing when he'd told you about how miss huckleberry had given him an earful (though apparently, she'd been a lot more gentle about it than she had with you).

"i did," said megumi, defiant. he looked away, a hand resting over his mouth to muffle his final comment. "my stupid dad didn't help either."

"what was that?"

"nothing."

"oh okay."

it hadn't taken long for the rest of the class to follow, the carpet space now being taken up by the bottoms of each and every individual that had attended the kindergarten that day.

usually the class would start by singing a nursery rhyme together (megumi would turn extra grumpy during those) but on that particular day, miss turner had decided to do something different. you had noticed how smiley she'd been that morning, but had never questioned it: she looked rather pretty when she smiled. 

"so instead of our usual nursery rhymes..." she began, creating suspense, "we're going to do something a little more special today!"

you all looked at each other, confused and excited. you felt giddy in your seat, your legs shaking in anticipation. when you'd looked at megumi, you could see the interest in his face even if he tried his best to hide it.

"so all of you are going to partner up with somebody, it can be anyone you like," said miss turner, arms spread out to represent you all, "and together, you'll make a story! it can be about anything you want, anything in the big wide world. does everyone understand?"

everyone nodded excitedly, several 'yes's could be heard as everyone had stood up, looking around for partners. you'd seen cameron peterski and kamenova petrova hold hands and skip away. you walked into the huddle of peers, spinning on the spot in an attempt to make eye contact with one of the girls.

zuri camara had come into view, and you had half a mind to ask her to be partners with you, only, you'd been reminded of the time when she had worn your costume (it was the school's property, but everyone knew that dress was practically owned by you).

so you turned away, back towards her as you approached your seat once more. megumi had been standing by it, looking at you and promptly ignoring denis ivanov, who'd been attempting to catch his attention. you grinned, skipping forward and pulling megumi by the arm.

"megumi you're my partner because i said so!"

he did not respond, but you found that pulling him to the table on the far right had been much easier than you'd expected. 

"okay so i want to make a story about a princess —"

"no."

you frowned at him, pulling the a4 sheet of paper towards you. megumi had the pencil in his hand, still out of reach. 

"what do you want to write about, dinosaurs then?" you mocked him, rolling your eyes. "oh — oh i forgot — you'll probably say it's not even real right?"

megumi, with his fingers still protecting the pencil from your clutches, stared at you, deadpanned.

"they were real," he said, matter-of-factly. "they were alive sixty five million, billion... trillion years ago."

you scoffed, unsure of whether to believe him or not. you decided not to question him, with his history of constantly being right, you knew better than to make a fool of yourself again.

"i want to make a story about a caterpillar turning into a butterfly."

"that is the most boring-est, boring story ever," you stated, unimpressed. "in the whole wide world."

megumi scowled at you. you continued.

"and everyone's gonna fall asleep like this, look." 

you demonstrated the snoring of what you imagined your peers would do at the sound of megumi's story, your forehead falling flat on the table and your pretend snores being very loud. you raised your head once more, noticing how megumi hadn't been looking. persistent, you grabbed onto his face and turned it to face you.

"you're not looking, look!"

you imitated it again, ignoring the way he'd slapped your hand off his face. your pretend snores had grown louder and megumi did not look pleased.

"you sound like a pig," he said, coldly.

"well — well you are just a rude-o."

"not a word."

"but my mommy says —"

however you had been cut off by megumi's stern look, one that practically screamed 'don't try it'.

"fine," you said, sighing. "let's play scissors-paper-rock."

"you mean rock-paper-scissors?"

you made a motion of almost choking the dark-haired boy, but stopped yourself despite your frustrations. and all the while, megumi had not once flinched. instead, he'd given you a look of annoyance. 

rock-paper-scissors had not gone well with you. you'd played three rounds, and after losing two out of the three, you'd begged to play another round, upset with your chances of losing. megumi had refused, but surprisingly, had agreed to meet you half-way, offering a compromise. 

"it's still about caterpillars and butterflies," said megumi, firmly, "but you can..." he sighed, looking as though it were physically hurting him to speak. "you can... make it less... real."

you beamed, clapping your hands excitedly and then making an attempt to grab the pencil from him once more. megumi immediately recoiled, pulling it away from you with a sharp gaze.

"but not too much," he said.

shortly after, you and megumi had started writing out your story. however, it hadn't gone as easy as you had initially expected: the road to completing the plot of your story was long and bumpy, you had been met with several obstacles along the way.

"moths can't be friends with butterflies," megumi said after you'd explained the introduction of a new character (the moth).

"you said i could make it how i want!" you argued, defensive. "well that just — that just — it means that you're just a liar then."

"says the biggest liar in this class —"

"MIIIIIIIISS!"

but that hadn't been the only issue:

"that's not how you spell 'caterpillar'," megumi commented, peering over your shoulder after he'd reluctantly handed the pencil over to you.

you looked down at your writing: cadrrpileer.

"that's not how you spell 'butterfly'."

again, you looked down at your writing: buddrflee.

"that's not how you spell moth."

once more, you looked down at your writing: moff.

irritated, you slammed the pencil down over the paper and slid the sheet over to megumi.

"well maybe you should write then!"

megumi made no complaints about taking the pencil.

"you were begging to write."

"yeah well — well — well i don't need a negative nancy next to me all them times i keep writing."

"that... made no sense."

"just write fushigo!"

"fushi-guro."

your assigned hour had been up, and when everyone had been seated on the carpet once more — rehearsing their lines in preparation to present — you and megumi read over the paper you had over and over again. really, you believed that you could recite the story without the paper, but megumi had been insistent on keeping the paper just in case.

he'd been very angry when you'd volunteered to go first together after miss turner had asked 'does anyone want to start us off?'.

so the two of you found yourself standing at the front of the class, clearing your throats in preparation. the classroom looked extremely big from where you'd been standing. having all eyes trained on you felt odd, but you were confident that your story would surprise them all.

"once upon a time, there was two caterpillars," you began, slowly.

"were," corrected megumi, shaking the sheet of paper. he'd turned to where miss turner was sitting at her desk. "miss she's not following the script."

miss turner’s brows had raised at megumi’s comment, visibly surprised. it was understandable, you concluded, for it was not as though the partners had been assigned — they were chosen. how had the two of you already fallen into a dark pit of issues?

"megumi, we can still continue with the story, it's fine," said miss turner, just as you'd stared at megumi with an affronted expression.

the rest of the class did not seem phased by the sudden intrusion, still patiently waiting for the story to continue seeing as it had barely even started yet.

"anyways… after one day, one of the caterpillars turned into a beautiful butterfly," you explained, your arms spread wide to suggest just how pretty you had imagined the butterfly to be.

"the other caterpillar is left behind —"

"yeah that caterpillar's slow for some reason," you interrupted, shrugging when megumi glared at you, waving the paper to remind you of the script.

you slapped the paper, holding back a laugh when megumi's glare had hardened (if possible).

he hastily took a step away from you as though you’d burned him and the paper in his hand. he cleared his throat; you could tell he was irritated.

"the caterpillar doesn't recognise the butterfly anymore," said megumi, sounding way too blunt for your liking.

there were gasps in the audience, and you watched as everyone's big eyes remained focused on you and megumi. you smiled toothily.

"but — like — later, the butterfly makes the caterpillar remember," you added, for once, following the script as megumi cautiously held the paper up for you to read from. "and they're still best friends. but then butterfly meets another butterfly, and they become best friends too!"

"the caterpillar feels left out and then meets the moth," said megumi, staring at the audience with a blank expression. "and they become friends even though that's not even real."

you turned to miss turner, feeling insulted that megumi had the audacity to snitch on you when he had basically done the same thing.

"miss, that wasn't in the script."

miss turner sighed, shaking her head at you with a smile. "guys."

"okay, okay!" you said. "megumi, say it."

"the caterpillar goes inside the cocoon," he said on your command, though he'd been resisting the urge to add 'the only real part'.

"afterwards, after a very, very, very, very, very long time," you said, attempting to create suspense, though you could feel megumi's eyes digging holes in your cheek to get you to hurry up, "the butterfly is not friends with the other butterfly anymore."

"the moth flies away and the caterpillar comes out but oh no it's not a caterpillar anymore," recited megumi, reading from the paper, monotoned. he looked up, making eye contact with the audience. "i didn't write that."

you snatched the paper from him, annoyed with his lack of effort in bringing emotion to the story.

"but oh no!" you read, enthusiasm in your voice as you expressed how disheartened the narrator should have been, "it's not a caterpillar anymore!"

"i just said that."

"porcupine!" you snapped. you handed him the paper again, smiling at the audience, unaware of the glare he was directing at you. "the caterpillar is now a butterfly, and the other butterfly doesn't re— re— rec—"

"recognise —"

"yeah that — the butterfly!" you finished off, grateful for megumi's intervention.

"and that's the end of the story," stated megumi.

you grinned. "the end!"

an awkward silence had followed after that. megumi had scrunched up the paper in his small fist, which had been the only noise in the room full of pin-drop silence. all of the kids had been staring at you, as if waiting for you to yell out 'just kidding!' and then continue the story, but it had become quite clear that that wouldn't happen, especially when the two of you glanced at miss turner to prove that you'd finished your lovely story.

"tha— that's the end?" asked miss turner, brown eyes darting from you to megumi and back again, expectantly.

you nodded.

"yep."

"yeah."

"but what happened to the butterflies?" someone had called out — it was noah fisher.

"nothing," you answered.

but it seemed that your classmates’ interest in your story had not been completely satisfied.

"did they not realise each other?" hayley bergmann called out, looking upset and curious.

"no," said megumi, straight-forward.

"why?" said christian de groot.

"because — because — that's just how it is," you shrugged.

"life is sad," commented megumi.

another silence had followed after that, till miss turner had finally come to the acceptance that your story truly had ended the way it did.

"okay, well... that's y/n and megumi's story, guys! round of applause!"

but the giant applause you'd been waiting for had not arrived. instead, the claps were slow, out of beat, and awkward, as if they were still in shock and denial about the ending of your story.

irked, your brows had furrowed deeply, your arms folded across your chest as you demanded them to "clap!".

and they did, at some point, and you'd stepped back again, standing side-by-side with megumi, a smile finally gracing your delicate features.

"look, porcupine! they're clapping for us!"

“it’s not like you barked at them to or anything,” grunted megumi, and as though he’d been slapped with knowledge, he glared at you. “and stop calling me that.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

your teachers did not believe you when you told them that you much preferred to stay indoors than go outside. you didn't understand how they'd come to that conclusion when even in the kindergarten, your time was always spent more by the bookshelf than outside in the playground. the only time that you’d actively seek to go outside for a change was when the bikes were free to use (though sometimes your impatience would force the other kids to simply give up and get off the bikes for you).

so when your mother had called you over at the sound of the doorbell (which you had promptly ignored for the sake of watching your favourite cartoons) you audibly groaned, but obediently switched the tv off and made your way over to the front door.

surprised, perplexed, yet pleased, you’d been met with the sight of megumi standing by the door across from your mother, a soccer ball in his hands and sporting the same stoic expression as per usual.

your mother looked very confused, almost as though megumi was not real — as though someone had been playing a sick trick on her. someone really wants to play with that kid? she’d thought in her head when megumi had asked if you were free to play in the neighbourhood.

you skipped past your mom, tightening the ribbon in your hair and smiling. you looked up at her, ready to inform her of the fact that you would stay in the area and not run off (even if you had the carnal desire to give her a good scare).

“i’m just gonna play with megumi okay?” you told her, and though it’d been posed as a question, you knew it was a statement.

you’d ignored the odd look she’d given both you and megumi, her eyes darting from you to him and back again.

“megumi?” said mom, gazing at the dark-haired boy with curiosity. she could have sworn that he had been the very child you’d been annoyed with not even a month ago.

you sighed, irritated.

“i won’t run away like last time mommy.”

megumi gave you a pointed look. you narrowed your eyes at him.

“it was on — it was on accident.” you turned to your (still very confused) mother. “i’ll just play with megumi now so yeah.”

but she looked as though she had missed several pages on a very interesting book she’d been reading. megumi spoke up not too long after.

“my mom said she’ll watch us.”

and whether that had been to comfort your own mother (the woman still kept the same expression on her face) or to hurry things up, you never knew, for you’d grown very impatient and simply couldn’t wait any longer. you stepped outside and waved goodbye to your mom, who raised her hand in what she probably thought was a wave back, though it looked like anything but.

that day, megumi’s mother had walked you back to your home just before sunset, your sour mood now dissipated.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

bonus scene:

"a toast to the academic year of two-thousand-seven-to-eight being officially completed!"

clink!

clink!

clink!

the staff room meant for the kindergarten teachers had been packed. the teachers sat around a squared table, drinks in hand and food scattered around as though the queen were to arrive at any passing second. some teachers were standing up, others were sitting. all, however, had made a toast to the end of the academic year.

the main two teachers of both classes had sat together at the head of the stable: miss huckleberry and miss turner. every other teacher that had played the role as the assistant or substitute had been present too.

"can we talk about how this was probably the hardest year to manage?" said miss huckleberry, but only after taking a giant gulp of whatever sparkling drink she'd chosen to quench her thirst.

there were several murmurs of agreement. mr adams (who had been a consecutive substitute for miss huckleberry's class during september) had practically shouted out his agreement.

"you don't know how many times i had to deal with a child crying because they've got 'the booger touch'," miss huckleberry announced, sighing.

"what even is that?" one of the first aid nurses asked.

"i wish i knew."

a lot of the teachers laughed, speaking in hushed tones on their theories of what the 'booger touch' is and how it even started. the teacher assistant for miss huckleberry's class had spoken up during that time.

"wait, but, can i tell you what i found the most weirdest thing back in... i don't know... october-ish?"

she tucked a messy strand of her ginger hair behind her ears as the others looked up with mild interest.

"the oddest pair on this planet," she'd started, "megumi and y/n."

"no you mean y/n and megumi," laughed miss turner, who had finally voiced her own opinion seeing as the two kids had been in her class for the previous year; meanwhile there'd been a chorus of laughter and yells of agreement from all the other teachers.

"yep, for sure —"

"never thought i'd see them being friends —"

"two completely different people —"

"wait, wait! wait! was megumi the kid with that grumpy face twenty-four-seven?" asked mr jenkins, raising the hand that was holding his glass of champagne to emphasise his confusion.

the teachers nodded in response; he laughed boisterously.

"yeah i never saw that coming, that kid never wanted to play with anyone!"

miss turner smiled. "he was a little... anti-social."

"he was more than anti-social," interrupted miss huckleberry. "i had to deal with so many crying kids because of him."

"i don't know how he ended up being friends with y/n of all people," said ms begum, adjusting the green hijab on her head. she had been the substitute for miss turner's class whenever she'd been ill.

"right?" laughed mr adams.

miss huckleberry shook her head. "that kid was a menace."

"oh don't say that!" scolded miss turner, tapping miss huckleberry's arm firmly. "she was so bubbly and funny!"

"but it makes sense!" said the first aid nurse, picking up a chocolate cupcake and taking a small bite out of it.

several teachers disagreed, shaking their heads and voicing their thoughts.

"no, hear — hear me out!" she called out, struggling to speak with the cupcake. she swallowed and then continued. "y/n was always really loud and social and talkative and — you get the idea, but megumi wasn't. for lack of better word, y/n was a menace on her own but megumi wasn't exactly like that... and when they ended up being friends —"

"i see it now," hummed ms begum, pouring herself some of the apple juice. "does everyone remember the veera incident?"

she had barely completed the last syllable before the teachers had spoken over each other again, loud and excited. miss turner laughed, but miss huckleberry had rolled her eyes.

"do i remember? i had to deal with the mother!" she exclaimed, her drink now completely finished. she poured herself another full glass.

"before y/n got moved to your class," said the nurse, gesturing to miss turner, "any time veera came over, the kids were fine. megumi was fine."

"okay but let's be honest," said mr adams, slowly. "that veera child made me want to vomit —"

"william!"

"mr adams!"

"i can't deny it, i'm sorry! it is what it is!" mr adams spoke up over the teachers. "that child needed to learn hygiene first!”

although there were many shouts of protests, it could be heard how weak they'd sounded, almost as though the teachers wanted to disagree, but logically, they could not. picturing the child in question only made mr johnson actually gag.

"but who would you say is worse, y/n or megumi?" asked the teacher assistant. "y/n for sure."

"agreed."

"definitely y/n."

"but y/n's never actually made a kid cry —"

"yes she has!"

"but so has megumi."

"i think the point is," said mrs holly, placing a watermelon slice on her paper plate, "that they are definitely the oddest duo we've seen in teaching so far."

"i think they made the year so much more tiring," sighed miss huckleberry.

following her statement, there were sighs of agreement. some teachers had promptly disagreed, claiming that the duo had, in turn, made teaching a little more fun. miss turner had stated that you were a wonderful addition to her class. ever since you had joined, megumi was a little more spoken.

"but megumi," added mr johnson, pinching the bridge of his nose, "that child — is he even a child?"

mrs holly laughed at that.

"whatever do you mean?" she'd asked, biting back a smile despite her obvious curiosity.

"well we all know his favourite quote," chortled miss turner, actually heartily laughing when some of the teachers had quoted him simultaneously.

"'that's not even real'!"

they all burst into fits of chuckles and laughter, some teachers having lagged behind on the quote and finishing a little while after (mr adams had practically sang the quote).

mrs holly, still chuckling, referred back to her initial question.

"so what about that makes him unlike a regular child?"

"THE KID READS NON-FICTION BOOKS, come on!"

"and i can't remember a single time where we all sat together in a circle for story time and megumi didn't mutter 'that's not even real' — 'birds don't talk' — under his breath," said miss huckleberry, helping herself to some of the desserts placed on the silver platter. "menace."

"can confirm," nodded miss turner. "but i rarely ever had to actually scold him. y/n would do it for me."

"one thing about y/n," said ms begum, trying not to laugh mid-sentence, "was that she always kept megumi in check."

"no," said mr jenkins. "i'd argue that he kept her in check."

"nobody can keep y/n in check. not even her own mother," ms begum responded curtly.

"no, i think that was the issue," said mr adams thoughtfully. "they're both so different, they tried keeping each other in check. but then that always led to them fighting."

"fighting?"

"i thought they were friends?"

"again: odd duo."

mr adams shook his head. "they were weirdos. they'd argue for a second, and then be friends after."

miss turner nodded. "true. did i ever tell you guys about their book wars?"

"no —"

"no? —"

"i've seen it happen," said the first aid nurse. "they'd fight over their favourite books and then because they both have completely different tastes —"

"the only time i can say y/n acts like a normal child," miss huckleberry whispered, her voice hushed.

"— they'd end up actually fighting each other."

the teacher assistant rolled her eyes. "should we all take a guess on who hit who first?"

"y/n —"

"no question: y/n —"

"definitely y/n —"

"ally?" said mrs holly, asking for confirmation from your class teacher: miss turner nodded.

all the adults in the room sighed, laughed, and commented their thoughts: it was mainly not a surprise to either one of them that you chose to get physical first — you were rather 'passionate', as mr jenkins had put it.

"but you know, the surprising thing was," said miss turner, louder than the other voices in the room in order to grab everyone's undivided attention, "megumi seemed to always let her."

mr johnson frowned, walking around the staff room to get the cinnamon rolls on the farthest end of the table. "let her what?"

"hit him," answered miss turner, as each of their faces presented their shock:

miss huckleberry's brows had raised notably, ms begum had tilted her head with her brows furrowed in obvious uncertainty, and mr jenkins' face morphed into an expression that quite literally screamed 'not possible'. but it had not been them who had voiced their thoughts following the amazing revelation.

"i wholeheartedly believe you," said the nurse, nodding her head leisurely. at the sight of all the other unresponsive teachers (save for the murmuring between mr adams and mrs holly), the nurse had decided that an explanation was due. "back in january, you know james? the kid with the buzzcut?"

the other teachers nodded, some remained unacquainted with said boy yet waved their hands to have the nurse continue anyway.

"he hit megumi over something stupid — can't remember. but megumi didn't just let that slide: i had a sobbing james sitting in my office with a bruised up eye!"

"yes, i remember that," mumbled miss turner, a hand on her chin as she rested her elbow on the table; meanwhile the others were gasping and exchanging odd looks. "not my favourite megumi moment, to be fair."

"he could have done the same to y/n," shrugged the nurse. "i know he could."

"arguably, y/n is a scary girl," said mr john, lowly. "what — don't look at me like that — she terrified me sometimes! and i've seen the way she fought that other kid — what's his name —"

"clarke!" said miss huckleberry, "yes, it was clarke!"

"irrespective of who she's beaten up," tutted the nurse, rolling her grey eyes, "it's clear that megumi has always had the potential to do what he did to james, to her. he just never did."

"that's why i said she kept him in check," added ms begum, a finality in her tone as she gazed at mr jenkins with a raised brow.

"anyway, when y/n moved to your class, ally, i never bothered trying to get her back," said miss huckleberry, pushing her glass of whatever sparkling drink she'd chosen away from herself.

"i could tell," miss turner responded, smiling despite it all.

mr adams laughed. "i still don't know how she somehow managed to sneak back into your class and throw apple juice on —"

the very person you'd thrown apple juice on (and accused them of pissing themselves) had now looked up, alert and embarrassed. the teacher assistant who you had declared war on months prior now felt tears welling up in her eyes as she stood up, glaring at mr adams as everyone averted their gazes awkwardly.

"we all promised not to ever mention that again," she said, bottom lip wobbling as she walked around the table to get to the door despite all the teachers calling her back. she ignored them as she reached the door.

"oh, come on, poppy!"

"he didn't mean it like that —"

"yeah, come back!"

"why would you mention something like that?" she weeped, her face a dark shade of red that did much to conceal her dotted freckles. she opened the door, her body half-in and half-out. "why would you say that when you know it surrounds us all in negativity —"

but before mr adams could backtrack on his comment (and his laughter) the teacher assistant had already left the room.

they all sighed:

even after your departure, you had still managed to cause problems somehow.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・

next chapter :)

notes: chapter 2 will take a little while to get out but i swear it will be released at some point!

© tojiscrack (previously ack4rwoman)

i do not own any of the characters of jjk, i only own the character of y/n and her mother. the other characters belong to gege akutami.

if you enjoyed my writing, i’d really appreciate it if you tipped me — tumblr no longer has the tip function, so maybe here in my tip jar :)

[writingjourney]

espresso stains // secondo

1k words, non-descript f!oc/third person reader (you can read this as my oc manon or just insert yourself/whoever), some self-esteem issues, reassurances, established relationship, mildly suggestive, 18+ MDNI

─── ⛧ ✦ ⛧ ───

The espresso cup clinks gently as he sets it down on the matching saucer – ceramics irrevocably stained by years of use, adorned only by one clean brown line just below the rim, right where his mouth rested a moment ago. He sighs, weary after a full meal, licking the remains of coffee from his lips. An easy-going smile, a hand on her shoulder, kneading until the tension melts underneath his fingertips. Her own cup is empty, the tiny handle still trapped between two fingers, and he has to peel her hand away from it to fold it into his large palm.

"You know you don't always have to go out of your way to cook for me," she says.

"I am not going out of my way," he states.

Quiet, then, the rhythmic press of his thumb, gazes caught, that soft shimmer in his eyes when she relaxes under his touch.

"Does it make you uncomfortable?" he asks.

"What?"

"To be taken care of."

His readings of her have become so precise that she thinks it must be written all over her face, how she doesn't feel like she deserves this level of attention, him standing in the kitchen for hours to feed her, running her baths, massaging her tense muscles, comforting her anxieties. It makes her want to cry, makes her feel like a child, that ever-present longing, a hunger for love that was never sated when she was small, and now that he offers her such care it is like she doesn't know how what to do with it.

"Not uncomfortable just–" She sits with the feeling, locates the core of it. "Unworthy."

He doesn't disagree but his brows pull together, the barest hint of tension giving him away. She chews on this reveal, though she has a suspicion that it is nothing new to him. It is hard to explain, how you can long for something so desperately and still find it impossible to accept.

"I find pleasure in it," he says after a while, still looking at her, still kneading. "Cooking for you, buying you things you would never buy for yourself, making sure you eat, rest, sleep."

He lifts her hand, pulling her towards him, and she follows willingly into his lap where he wanted her all along. His hands map out the shape of her, nose dragging up her shoulder, her neck, following the trail of her perfume with a soft hum.

"I find pleasure in taking care of you," he says, now so close, lips ghosting over her jaw.

"But– why?"

"Why?" he mirrors the questions. "Why does anyone? Because it is human, because we are made to care."

"Why me, then?"

Her hands find purchase on his shoulders just in time for him to lean back and away from her, searching her gaze. It displeases him, she knows this, when she speaks ill of herself, implicit– or explicitly.

"Because you are for me," he replies, as if that says it all. The long answer lies somewhere behind his eyes, the longing, that rare softness. For me, he says, meaning that she needs him, that for some reason he needs her too, that she has a deficiency and he has a surplus, that he too is lacking things only she can provide, that they are balancing the scales when they are together.

It scares her sometimes, to think that she is just a project to him, that one day the scales stop being even. The what ifs and what happens whens and the idea that he'll complete his mission and move on to someone who needs him more. He provides, it's what he does, he soothes and guides and teaches and brings relief to tensions that have been decades in the making. Would it be an illusion to think that he'll settle at last?

"No," he says, startling her awake just as her mind wraps around the question.

"No what?"

"You are in your head." His finger taps against her temple before his whole hand comes to splay out against the side of her head, a cocoon to trap her, so effective that the moment begins to feel real again. "I want you here with me, my dove."

"I suppose I am overthinking," she admits.

"As is your habit," he quips. "Always you slip somewhere else and I have to guess where it is, how to get you back."

She'd asked him once, after being intimate, after he'd admitted that he'd struggled to feel fulfilled in the past, who takes care of you, Secondo? And he'd been so sad at the question, but then he'd said, you do, perhaps you are the only one who does. It had been hard to imagine, then, that a man like him, so independant, so stoic and strong, could truly have need of her. But he had been genuine, perhaps the most genuine she'd ever seen him.

"I want to take care of you too," she states.

His lips curve. It's not much of a confession by any means, something she'd said in the past when he'd been so generous that she'd felt so very limited in her means to reciprocate. But somehow it weighs heavier tonight. He's a man so set in his ways, so used to being by himself in the moments when it matters, the stain of years of use, cracked ceramics glued together by spite, repressed pain of a lifetime yellowing the bottom of the cup like rings of old coffee. He doesn't have to pour it himself anymore, and perhaps it's enough that he knows.

"Will you accept me now?" he asks. "Let me take care of you in the way I've been wanting to all night?"

She nods, just so, and his hands dip low again, dragging her hips forward until they're pressed together. They share a sweet moan before their mouths come searching the other's taste, coffee and amarettini, the wine he picked for dinner. It's unhurried, slow and sensual, the type of kiss that doesn't immediately lead anywhere but bridges that gap between wanting and having, between need and relief.

Secondo's chair scrapes against hard wooden floor when he picks her up, carries her to the sofa where he'll have her for an hour or so, indulging in those very kisses, drawing them out before he thinks to take his time with her in bed throughout the night. Two empty cups on the table, a candle slowly burning out. He's not going out of his way, he said, and she knows he's right where he wants to be.

─── ⛧ ✦ ⛧ ───

this is another little ficlet that i took from what will hopefully be a full fic at some point but that i think works on its own as well. thank you for indulging me <3

[sonicssweetheart]

Please could I request a Sonic x reader where reader is feeling down about themselves and has low self esteem and Sonic is there to comfort them ? Thank you !!

⋆🎐˚｡⋆ — literally have been fantasizing about sonic making me feel better about myself as a person for a good three months. that would fix me, me thinks! ty for requesting! <3

⤷ sonic x insecure!reader 𐚁₊⊹

— “i hope i don’t look like an idiot,”

sonic whispered to himself, watching himself comb through his quills in the full length mirror in the living room. you two were simply getting ready to go out with friends, where you would meet up at an arcade — or wherever the night took you. he felt rather proud of how he presented himself, but then again, you were his common sense, so he would have to ask you before confirming anything.

at the thought of you, his legs instantly darted to the door of your bedroom, knocking a few times.

“babe, you comin’?” he called out, his face inches away from the door as he waited excitedly. when he was met with an odd sound of ruffling and a moment of silence, his eyes furrowed at the lack of response and pressed his ear against the cool oak.

“…you okay?” he asked, dragging the question in his voice. a muffled “yeah” was made out of the barrier between you two, which caused sonics ear to twitch out of discomfort with that answer. he pursed his lips and gently twisted the knob, stepping into the room hesitantly.

you sat on your bed, and you looked lovely. but you sat there, looking at the mirror on your left hand side. you didn’t turn your head when he walked in, and for a moment he was concerned.

“uhm,” he started, not sure what to say. “y/n?” he walked up to you and his heart thumped as he got a closer look at your outfit. “is that new? i don’t think i’ve seen this one before. definitely not complaining.” he tried to seem flirtatious like he usually is, but he couldn’t help but notice your unamused face that still stared in the mirror.

sitting beside you, not taking his eyes off of your drooped head, he tilted his own in curiosity. “do you not like it?” he questioned in a gentle voice, making sure he didn’t overwhelm you. you sat silent for another moment, the gentle burring of the ventilation humming quietly in the back.

“‘m just thinking.” you responded blandly, your mouth feeling dry. sonic tapped his finger on his leg, not knowing what to say. “about?” he questioned.

catching a glance of your face as you looked at him, he noticed the exhausted expression in your eyes. it startled him. before he could speak, you took a breath, pausing for a moment before resuming,

“sonic, i don’t…” you shook your head slightly, looking to him again. “…like… anything about myself.”

your voice slightly broke out of stress, running a hand through your hair. you laughed a little, trying to not seem so dark, but that didn’t hide anything from sonic. his ears folded down as a form of heartache, his chest feeling pained to hear those words.

“hey, hey—“ he moved slightly closer to you, his hand resting on the small of your back. “what? why… why do you think that?” his voice almost went up an octave out of both confusion and shock, as for he only ever saw you as a perfect entity that didn’t deserve to be trapped on the limits of earth.

taking a shaky breath, you let your hands fall to your lap in defeat. “i feel like a burden, i guess? like your friends don’t enjoy my humour, or my presence, or the fact that im only around because you happen to be with me? hell if i know.” you intended to come off as irritated, but to your boyfriend, you just sounded hurt. he shook his head reassuringly, leaning his face closer to you so you would look at him.

“y/n, they adore you. literally. i can’t even — there is everything to love about you. do you not see that?” he asked that question as if he were genuinely shocked, his eyes concerned and sad. he absolutely despised seeing you so upset with yourself, he just doesn’t understand it. he has so much love to feel for you that there was simply no room for criticism. “and even if for some reason they didn’t, that does not measure who you are as a person. and for the record — you are incredible,” he motioned your face towards his using his thumb on your chin. “you are — beyond any words — the best person anyone could have in their life.” he slid his hand to your shoulder, gently rubbing your arm in a soothing manner, where you melted into his touch.

you sighed, your eyes looking down. “i wish it were easier for me to believe that.” you replied in a raspy voice. sonic stood up in front of you, looking down into your eyes. cupping your face in his hands, he stroked his thumbs over your flushed cheeks.

“you made a difference here, genuinely. you gave purpose to our lives just by being who you are. you’re a flower amidst a desert. all of that .. err, stuff,” you couldn’t help but snicker at him, your eyes glossy and full of love. he smiled warmly, one of his hands running its fingers through your hair, admiring you.

“i like everything about you. every flaw and corny joke you make, every clumsy step and hearty laugh. it’s hard to admire someone when there’s nothing to them, but you have everything,” sonic pressed a kiss to your forehead, then to your ear, “you’re enough, and everything more than that.” he lifted his head to look at you, his heart melting as he noticed a few tears running down your cheeks. your lips twitched as you peered through your wet eyelashes, sniffling softly.

“i’m sorry, im sorry im sorry —“ you repeated quietly on a chain, sonic whimpering quietly in response. it broke him to see you cry.

“hey hey you have nothing to be sorry for, hey..” he held your head against his chest as you cried, stroking your hair and maneuvering his way back to sitting beside you so he could hold you.

he let you cry for a moment as you caught your breath and wiped your tears with the back of your hand, regaining your composure.

“i’m so sorry, i-im such a wreck, i know you ju…just wanted to hang out with your friends,” you rambled, but sonic just stared, his eyes gazing over you.

“god, you’re beautiful.” he whispered, catching you off guard, you looked at him, snot covering your nose, your face wet and hair disheveled.

“what?” you asked weakly, confused. sonic reached for your hand, taking it to his mouth, kissing your knuckle.

“it’s moments like these where i can see who you really are, and i see you.” his last words made your heart palpitate. i see you. words you didn’t even know you needed to hear. he smiled, keeping your hand close to him.

“and you’re just glowing. you don’t even see it.” he added, making you smile and look away.

“you’re such a … i don’t even know.” you laughed through your teeth, wiping your face again. sonic tucked your hair behind your ear.

“let’s stay in tonight.” he suggested, but you were quick to protest.

“no, no, we can’t cancel last minute. i’m fine, we can go—“

“mm, i’d rather spend the rest of tonight loving you, okay? please?” his tone was rather persuasive, and you looked a little taken aback.

“i, uh… can’t really say no to that.” you replied which gained sonics classic smirk.

“it’s settled. i’ll go call tails.” he got up. heading to the door but looking behind his shoulder before he left.

‘i love you’ he mouthed, earning a shy chuckle from you and a sniffly ‘i love you more’ back. ♥︎

[howi99]

Follow up to the prison post

Cinder: *still looking at her own reflection in the mirror* How? His semblance is supposed to be Aura amplification! How did he?

The door of her cell open

Jaune: *seeing her looking at the mirror* Still wondering about my little magic trick?

Cinder: *turning around to face him, almost growling* What do you want, Arc?

Jaune: *shaking his head, putting a journal on the bed alongside some books* Giving you a taste of the outside? You know, the one you almost destroyed?

Cinder: *angry* Because you honestly think i had a choice!?

Jaune: *rolling his eyes* Yes. Many times in fact. In fact, every time i fought you after i came back from the ever after, i gave you a chance.

Cinder: Ah! As if you would have let me live!

Jaune: ... *Sigh* Cinder, i don't think you understand what i lived through. How long i lived through it. *Sitting on a chair next to the bed* I stopped hating you a long, very long time ago.

Cinder: Stop lying, we both know you want me dead.

Jaune: *nod* I do want you dead, yes. I want you dead, because that's what you deserve. It's a fact, a truth. *Pause for a moment, seeming to think about his words* You are alone, Cinder. Nobody wants you and nobody will ever want you. I could give you your old beauty, it wouldn't even matter. And honestly? *Lean forward* I find that infinitely sad.

Cinder: *surprised* What's that supposed to mean?

Jaune: *lean back* Exactly what i'm saying. You are a remnant of the past, a past everyone is now trying to forget and move on from. *Points to his head* Everyone will forget about you. *Chuckle* Well, everyone but me.

Cinder: Tsk... *Goes to sit on the other chair* Can you tell me how you did it?

Jaune: *feigning ignorance* Hm? Did what?

Cinder: *angry muttering* You know damn well what I'm talking about... *Sigh* How did you bring back my eye?

Jaune: *smirking* The ever after was a prison, yes. *Wave his hand, making a ball of light which turned into a kaleidoscope of colors* And a great place to learn and harvest magic. *Taking a pensive look* When i think about it, it's a good thing you didn't fall back then. Or we probably would have been all doomed.

Cinder: ... That's it? Magic? That's the explanation?

Jaune: *scratching his beard* The short answer? Yes. The long answer is that i used the memory your own soul has of your body. Your body may change, but your aura, your soul doesn't. *Waving off* I could have used my semblance, but instead of being instantaneous, it would have taken a week... Oh and you would have suffered all the way through.

Cinder: Then why give it back?

Jaune: *shrug* You kick puppies for fun, i heal them. Nothing more, nothing less.

Cinder: ... I never hurt animals.

Jaune: Not.... The point i was trying to make, but a nice tidbit to know about you. Other than your casualties counts and your hatred of Atlas, it's not like i know a lot about you.

Cinder: *angry* That place deserved to burn!

Jaune: Maybe. Atlas was a corrupted den of nepotism, but i don't think the common folks deserved to die.

Cinder: *bark a single laugh# Ah! As if your team didn't bring its share of destruction to the place! Remember Ironwood? THAT wasn't me.

Jaune: *sigh* Oh don't worry, i know that too well. But i can't blame a bunch of kids for making bad calls. Hell, the adults were as dumb as us.

Cinder: *chuckle* At least you can see your own mistakes.

Jaune: I had time to learn from them.

Cinder: ... Since you are going to be my jailer for the foreseeable future... How long exactly did you stay in the ever after? Or whatever that place's called.

Jaune: *seeming to think about the question* Well, the gods were already gone from the place, but it was before humanity's downfall. Take the fact time goes faster in the ever after.... Maybe centuries? Though i'd say a millennium would be accurate-

Cinder: *surprised, getting up of the chair* I THOUGHT YOU WERE TRAPPED 20 YEARS!?

Jaune: Hm? Oh yeah, when team RWBY arrived, my body was probably in its forty. I age incredibly slowly, but i still do age.

Cinder: *completely bewildered, sit back down* Wow... I... I never expected that! How did you stay sane?

Jaune: ... I didn't? I mean, I spent the last 50 years of my life there saving the same village over and over again. Day after day... I don't hear voices, if you were wondering. But i lost a good part of myself there. In a way, the Jaune you knew died a long time ago, only leaving a rusted husk at his place. One that was repaired, yes, but can never be the same.

Cinder: *sigh* Great, then i guess i'll turn mad before seeing the bright sky again.

Jaune: *taking his scroll out* With good conduct and if you seem repented enough, you'll probably be out in a little hundred years. Beside, you will have interaction with the outside. Books, journal and whatnot. Oh, and me, of course. And for the sky part, you get 6 hours of free time, it's not like you can't go in the courtyard during that time.

Cinder: *silent for a moment* Why did you choose to be my jailor? Instead of letting someone else do it?

Jaune: *Thinking over the question* Hm... Because i can? Because if i can at least change you, make you a better person, maybe then my friends death won't have been in vain? Because i know what being alone feels like and even if i hate you, i wouldn't wish that to anyone? Maybe... Maybe i just want to help a child who never knew better? *Shrug* Who knows?

Cinder: ...

Jaune: *get up, walking to the door* You are alone outside those walls... But, as long as you will be here, i won't let you go. Even if we both hate each other, i'll always be there for you when you need it.*smile* I'm still the Rusted Knight after all. *Leave, closing the door*

Cinder: *Sigh* You should have been here for me a long time ago then... When i still believed in him. *Looking at the books, one in particular picking her attention, an old book with burned marks on it* That book... *She picks it up, turns a page and sees her own signature* ... *Tears form in her eyes, as she begins reading The girl who fell through the world, like she used to*

[hd-tarot]

🔮✨ HD Tarot Week 2 Roundup! ✨🔮

Another enchanting week full of fic and art is behind us. The cards have spoken, and here's what they revealed...

· ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ Fic ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ·

🔮 psychopomp (E, 15.3k words) 🃏 “Do you think I deserve to live?” The words spilt from his mouth, unbidden. Potter fixed him with a penetrating look. Draco recalled the expression he’d worn when he wrenched the wands from Draco’s grip at the Manor; thought this could be the same one. You can’t hide from me, it said. I know everything about you. “I think dying is the easy way out.” Card(s): The High Priestess

🔮 A wolf at the door (T, 13.5k words) 🃏 When Harry decided to do his internship with an international Auror, he was seeking an escape from many things. He certainly hadn’t anticipated ending up questioning his sexuality, magically trapped in a Spanish house with Draco Malfoy. Card(s): The World

🔮 hugged and tugged down through this tiger’s masque (M, 11k words) 🃏 A glimpse into a period of alteration, change, and transformation. Card(s): Death

🔮 Rusty Cage (E, 20.5k words) 🃏 Harry Potter is not okay. Someone else who’s not okay? Draco Malfoy, but he's doing time in Azkaban for his heinous crimes. But what if Draco isn't as guilty as he's been made out to be? Everyone knows that Harry is a sucker for righting injustice, including Hermione, who is more than prepared to meddle in order to help her best friend. Or, when Harry visits Draco in prison and things don't go quite as expected. Card(s): Eight of Swords

· ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ Art ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ·

🔮 nine of cups (G) 🃏 Harry happy in the upright card position, Draco suffering in the reverse. Card: Nine of Cups

🔮 The Sun (G) 🃏 In the cosmos of his heart, Harry blooms not but for one sun. Card: The Sun

🔮 Crepusculum (G) 🃏 A guardian in his tower, whimsical and secretive. A corruptor in the marble manor, with mirrored flesh and soul. Two souls at the foot of a castle seeking the sky just out of reach. Held down by twisted word and lies. Card: The Emperor

[shatcey]

Mirror event (Victor)

Now it becomes clear why Vivi looks so much like hemself in this story. Because it wasn't a dream…

I look at this men standing next to each other, and think… I… belong there. Literally. Right there, between them. I've never felt like I belong to any place, perhaps because I really need to be there.

Okay...

And now Vivi's thoughts. As always, they made my brain explode a bit.

He was ready to kill her if something went wrong, because his children are at the top of his list of priorities (after the queen, of course), but… He still wants her to stay. I'm surprised… Is this a contradiction? Or does he just want to add another seed to his garden of children? Or… she is any different?

This… It's terribly sad. Does this mean that no one will ever want to take care of him? Maybe were afraid to do it? Didn't think of him as a person? It's become a painful topic for me lately… Could it be related to his abilities? Or his status? He is a man who stands firmly on his feet, who achieves a lot, who is the second person in the country. Maybe… No, I'm probably imagining…

Victor often talks about light and darkness. What if it's not just a metaphor… What if he really can see the color of the soul? He's a grim reaper after all. What would make so much sense… He can tell who deserves to die and who deserves to be saved. This makes him the same judge as William.

Sure… Victor drops such a bomb… I'm not even surprised. Bound… He's bound… trapped… restricted. Maybe he just phrased it that way, after all, they all have a grim fate. But… What if it's literal? What if… his fate not allow him to get to close to people? I don't like where this thought leads me to…

You're breaking my heart! Why??? What can't he do? Follow his desires? Or… being too close to someone? He doesn't allow himself to do this because he had some experience in the past… What was that? What happens to the other person? Why did he decide never to do it again? I have… so many questions.

No, don't you dare say that was the last time! I'm going to punch you, painfully….... on the shoulder. You look like a teddy bear, and I love hugs! You got the point, right?

Why is it in quotes? Who told you that? This person was lying! They can, and they will come true. Ally is proof of that. He didn't dream, but his dreams came true. Don't ask me how this is possible! It defies logic…

So… It was a very short story, but it managed to give me a headache. I'm… not surprised at all.

Now I'm curious to know what was in the other stories. I remember reading Ellis' story a year ago, and in the end he killed her. So… It was definitely a dream! If so… how can we read the story from his POV???

Don't tell me… Ally, don't let these guys exploit your abilities!!!! You are not a tool! I'll really going to punch Victor if that's the case.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

🔝 𝕊𝕋𝔸ℝ𝕋 ℙ𝔸𝔾𝔼 🔝

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Im thinking color thoughts again

After years in a controlled, monotonous environment, exposure to light, sound, smells, and movement would be overwhelming.

Bright sunlight could be physically painful. Noises might feel unbearably loud, and unfamiliar smells could trigger confusion or distress. He might instinctively cover his “ears,” shield his eye, or freeze in response to sensory stimuli.

He might struggle to process or make sense of his surroundings, leading to feelings of dizziness, nausea, or a sense of the world spinning out of control.

After decades of emotional suppression, he might feel emotionally “flat,” unable to process the gravity of his freedom. A hyper-pragmatic, survival-focused mental state may persist, where emotions are seen as a distraction from staying alive.

He might respond mechanically, focusing on immediate needs like finding shelter, avoiding perceived threats, or hiding.

Freedom might feel hollow or meaningless at first, as his emotional range is muted by trauma.He might be consumed by the belief that whatever kept him confined is pursuing him.

That can be some type of personification of the Void itself, or related to paranoia about Gaster—especially if, given survivor’s guilt if Gaster didn’t also get out/potential lingering episodes of psychosis/the whole “scattered across time and space” thing—Color sees, hears, or feels like Gaster is watching him. This could also be about the human, as the cause for why Color was sent to the Void.

He would constantly look over his shoulder, avoid open spaces, or refuse to trust anyone he encounters. Decades of captivity and isolation would condition him to be acutely aware of potential threats.

Any sudden movement, loud noise, or unfamiliar person might trigger a fight-or-flight response. His isolation would leave him unaccustomed to social interaction, making him wary or outright hostile toward others.

He might assume that anyone offering help has ulterior motives, even as the souls urge or think differently and disagree with him and amongst themselves.

He might believe he is being watched or that his escape was a trap, or even that Core or Delta is somehow malicious —such as starting to get paranoid that they’re keeping him trapped in a hospital, facility, the apartment, the Omega Timeline, etc, and will not let him leave.

After prolonged isolation, he might feel as though the world outside his confinement isn’t real. Everything might seem dreamlike, distant, or too strange to trust. Years of neglect, isolation, and trauma would erode his sense of self—on top of the six souls.

He might struggle with questions like “Who am I now?” or “Am I even real?”

He might not recognize himself in reflective surfaces due to his physical transformation.

After years in a predictable environment, the freedom of the outside world might feel chaotic and overwhelming. Decisions like where to go or what to do next could trigger paralyzing anxiety.

Sights, sounds, or situations that resemble him of the Void (e.g., dark rooms, confined spaces, the souls’ voices, Gasters), might provoke panic attacks or flashbacks.

Prolonged isolation may have stunted emotional and social development, causing him to regress to a more childlike state—on top of already having the absorbed souls of dead children in his head.

He might cling to anything that feels safe or familiar, such as routines or objects. His immediate concerns might revolve around basic needs like food, warmth, and safety, without higher-level goals or ambitions.

He might wonder why he survived or escaped. while others didn’t or question whether he deserved freedom or to live, in case of something having happened to his AU, Othertale, and him being among the only survivors.

His physical disfigurement and changes might cause extreme self-consciousness, leading him to avoid mirrors, cover himself, or hide from others—only to find the fear of being alone again to suffocating to bear, often drawn back to people even if it’s overwhelming and painful.

After years of predictable confinement, he might crave structure and routine, even if it’s harmful or unnecessary to him, his body, or the souls.

He could re-create elements of his confinement environment (e.g., sitting in the dark, avoiding large spaces) as a coping mechanism. The endless choices and lack of external control in freedom might feel terrifying, making him retreat into old habits or behaviors.

Despite his fear and trauma, he might experience brief moments of wonder at the outside world, like noticing a bird, a sunset, or fresh air. The stars, definitely—might make him feel faintly connected to who he was before.

These small moments could create a faint spark of hope or connection. Over time, he might begin searching for a reason to live, whether through connecting with others, rebuilding his identity, or finding a sense of purpose.

He might refuse to speak or make eye contact with others, cling to familiar objects, such as remnants of clothing or tools from the Void, hide or avoid open spaces, possibly curling into small, enclosed areas for comfort, startle easily or react aggressively to perceived threats, hoard food, water, or other supplies, even if unnecessary, and repeat patterns or behaviors from captivity, such as pacing or muttering or hugging himself and rubbing or tightly gripping his arms.

Having his entire existence and memory erased from his original universe would create a profound sense of being “unreal” or “nonexistent.”

Color may struggle to reconcile the person he was before the risky action (and subsequent confinement in the Void) with the new version of himself, who has no history or identity in the present world.

This sense of erasure would likely lead to feelings of alienation, as he tries to grasp at who he was before but finds nothing. He may feel that he no longer “belongs” in the world he’s returned to.

The fact that Undyne has taken his place would compound feelings of irrelevance. Color might feel that his entire existence has been supplanted, not only losing his physical and emotional self but also the role he once held. Undyne may seem to have lived his life, possibly even fulfilling his dreams or wishes, leaving Color with no real purpose or place.

Jealousy or resentment might arise towards the one Undyne, but there may also be feelings of guilt or shame for being unable to occupy the role he once had. Given that he never planned to survive his initial risky action, he might now view survival as a curse rather than a gift.

Survivor’s Guilt could be compounded by the feeling that he didn’t deserve to survive—especially if he didn’t want to in the first place. This could manifest in a profound self-loathing or hopelessness, as he might feel that he has no real reason to exist anymore, as everything he once was is gone and replaced.

The combination of feeling erased, irrelevant, and deeply alienated from both the past and present might drive him to believe that he would be better off dead.

The internal narrative of “I didn’t expect to live through this, and I don’t want to now” would dominate his thoughts. This mindset could make him highly susceptible to self-destructive behavior, suicidal ideation, or an overwhelming sense of numbness.

Color might feel that death is the only way to regain control or escape the unbearable confusion of living in someone else’s life and universe—or in the case of having gone to the Omega Timeline with Core, perhaps feeling trapped in a promise to live for Gaster, and feeling out of place in an unfamiliar, alien world that doesn’t feel real.

The thought of trying to live in the world again might feel unbearable. The freedom he now possesses could feel more like a trap rather than a release.

The disconnection from his former life and the overwhelming nature of his new reality could cause intense episodes of derealization (feeling that the world is unreal) and depersonalization (feeling detached from his own body or actions).

He might not feel like he belongs in the present, or like he is watching his life happen from outside his body. This would be especially intense if his memories of the past are vague or erased, leaving him confused about his own existence.

He may have flashes of who he was before captivity—moments of fragmented memories or emotional triggers—but these would be disconnected, coming in bursts or waves.

The attempt to piece together these fragments might bring up anger, confusion, or sorrow, and he might find it difficult to trust those memories, wondering whether they were real or just constructs of his fractured mind.

He might feel like a stranger in his own life, as if relationships and connections are meaningless because he wasn’t meant to be part of this reality.

Rejection of new bonds could be a defense mechanism, as he might push people away, not wanting to form attachments only to lose them again—or because he sees no point in having relationships when he wasn’t supposed to survive.

To avoid feeling completely alone and disconnected, he might linger on the outskirts of groups—and if he does form any connections, he’s like to cling to these and the memories formed, experiences had, extremely intensely.

His family or loved moving on with their lives without him, especially with someone else taking his place, Color might feel resentment towards them for “forgetting” him or moving on—struggling to come to terms with something he’s unlikely to find closure on with them personally.

He might feel abandoned, seeing an Undyne as something of an intruder, but also feel guilty for resenting people who likely had no choice in the matter. This dynamic would further fuel feelings of alienation.

To cope with his overwhelming emotions and the internal void, Color might turn to self-harm, whether physical or emotional.

He might seek out dangerous situations or even engage in reckless behavior to feel something, because emotional numbness and an inability to feel or process anything might make him feel even more disconnected from the world.

The desire to escape the world or the emotions he can’t face might lead to a retreat into isolation, where he might try to avoid dealing with the overwhelming pressure of his existence.

He might shut himself off from any emotional or physical closeness with others, trying to protect himself from the pain of remembering his old life or facing their new, unrecognizable role in the world—clinging tightly onto the very few connections he manages to form, and being drawn to people and social events to stave off his horror of being or feeling alone again—searching for a reason or a point to continue living when he’s been forgotten, and likely feels it’ll happen again, if he’s so easily forgettable and replaceable as the Void made him feel.

Despite the overwhelming hopelessness, there might be flickers of desire to find meaning in their new life. He might seek out the reason for their survival, questioning if there’s something they’re meant to do now.

He might latch onto any small fragment of hope or purpose—helping others, trying to reclaim his lost identity, or discovering a new role to play in a world that no longer has a place for him.

[fanttasttica]

Family

Helion x reader, Rhysand x daughter reader

You never knew your parents and yourself. One day you decide to leave your home and try to find something about yourself and your family. You come to the Day court, where you meet their cunning High lord, who also happens to be your mate. But your mate isn't the only person you found..

warnings: mentions of nudity

words: 2764

It was a nice summer day. A wind gently caressed your cheeks, as you were looking at your friends, who were enjoying the day with their families. Fathers, mothers.. siblings. That was a luxury you have never known. You never knew your father or mother. The closest thing you had to parents were Christian and Lucille, who found you one day and raised as their own. You actually thought they were your parents, until they came clean when you reached your eighteen birthday. They knew you deserve the truth. Since then, you were jealous and happy at the same time for your friends, who had families on their own. You were watching them from a smaller distance, as they were laughing together wishing you could have something like that too. Not that you were not grateful for Christian and Lucille, you loved them but.. You wanted to find out who your parents were. Whose violet eyes were looking at you in the mirror? Did you have the same black hair as your mom? Was your smile similar to the smile of your father? Those were questions you earned an answer for.

You grew up in the mountains in Night court. Your village was quite small, nothing extraordinary here. It was not far from the borders the Night court shared with the Day court. You could walk there maybe after two or three hours. That means that sometimes you meet people traveling between these two courts. People who were more than willing to share stories. That was how you found out about Amarantha being dead. You knew her, of course you did. Everyone in Prythian did. She trapped all High lords under the mountain, took their powers.. They were helpless until one day a human girl named Feyre freed them. You were fascinated by her story. She was now your High lady, finally being happy with Rhysand, your High lord and you found that really nice. That they found each other after all that. You heard all stories about them and about other High lords and interesting people from travelers, merchants.. You were always listening to them very carefully, until one sunny day, when you decided to stop being the listener and become the traveler, narrator, yourself. It was an opportunity to get to know new places, people.. and maybe find out something about your parents.

“Are you sure you want to go? I mean..it can be really dangerous.” You smiled at your friends. “I am sure. I love you guys, I love this place but.. I just want to try and find out something about my parents, about me. And I think that's the thing I cannot accomplish here.” She sighed and nodded as a sign that she understands you. “Well.. I will not stop you, if that is really what you want. Just.. be careful and don't forget us.” You hugged her tight, trying to find back tears. “How could I ever forget you? You are my best friend, sister, even though we don't have the same parents. I will never forget you, don't worry. And also.. this isn't definitely the last time you see me. I will come back.”

It has been almost two months since you left. After almost a month of traveling, you came to the town which was surrounding the palace of Helion, the Day court´s High lord. Probably the sexiest male alive. You had only seen him once, from afar when he was walking and talking with some of his friends near the shop you worked. You found a job in a smaller café, simply because you needed money and you also quite quickly fell in love with the city and wanted to spend some time here. You weren't sure how long you were going to stay.. A few months? Year? But it didn't really matter. Your job did not only provide you with the money , no. It also helped you meet a few nice people you befriend and could spend time after work. It was nice, the days were not the same as in your old village. Every day brought something new, new skills you learned, new friends.. But the one day that stood out above all the days.. was the one when you met your mate.

It was almost noon when the bell rang and he walked into the café, where you were currently working. Helion stood in the doorway and was looking around the place as if he was searching for something, or rather someone. And then, suddenly, he looked at you, his already big smile grew even bigger. At that same moment, you felt something in your chest, in your heart. Mating bond. It snapped immediately, taking the air from your lungs. You blinked a few times, not daring to move or look away from his gaze as he walked closer to you. “Hello my little sunshine.” 

From that moment, you didn't spend a day without a stolen moment with Helion. You found out that he already knew about the mating bond. It snapped for him a few minutes before he came in, as he was casually walking around the café. He saw you and needed only a few minutes before you he plucked up the courage to go talk to you. You decided to take things slowly. He was coming to the café, where you chatted when you were working. After a week he invited you to a date, to a beautiful restaurant, theater, then he took you on the picnic.. And that's basically how you ended up waking up in his large bed, with nothing but sheets on your naked body. 

You two were seeing each other for almost three months. It was already winter, but that did not bother you. Helion was hugging you, his big and warm body was better than any blanket in the whole world. You were enjoying this quiet morning in his embrace, when you felt he was already waking up. His breathing changed and grip on you strengthened, as if he also wasn't ready to wake up and leave your bed. You giggled at him, whereupon he grunted. “Is there something funny, sunshine?” You sighed happily. “Just one certain High lord who is behaving like a little child who doesn't want to share his toy with anyone else.” He chuckled, turned you around, so you were now lying on your back on the comfortable mattress and he was towering over you in all his glory. You bit your lips at this sight. “But I don't want to share you with anyone else.” He started placing soft kisses on your neck, which was full of hickeys from the previous night. “I don't think that's possible. My shift is starting in an hour and you also have a lot of work.” You argued, trying to keep your thoughts clear, even though the idea of ​​spending the whole day with your mate in bed was more than tempting. “That's why I want you to quit. You know I can take care of you, I want to take care of everything you need or want” This time it was you who chuckled at his idea. “And what would I do? Spend all my time in your bed, waiting for you to return? It would be boring.” You caressed his beautiful face. Admiring his beauty, before he spoke again. “You could always come with me to the meetings, sit on my lap and warm me.” He winked at you, as you punched him slightly in his biceps. After that his face grew more serious. “I love you Y/N. More than my court, more than the sun, more than everything else.. Just say you want this and I promise I will give you everything in the world. I will make you my High lady. My equal. Just one word is enough.” 

It wasn't that hard a decision. You loved Helion with your whole being. You couldn't imagine a day without him. So you finally agreed. You gave him your answer that day, in the evening, when you served him dinner made by you. It was simple, private and even though Helion was known for parties, he really appreciated this. Mainly because after the meal he could immediately take to to the bedroom and fuck you all night without any disturbance. The only thing that was left to declare you his High lady. You urged him to wait a little. When you officially accepted the bond you also moved to his palace the next day and you simply wanted to get used to the new surroundings and to the bond, which was now stronger than before. He of course agreed to your wishes. But you still were slowly making plans for the celebration, because you decided to make this event publicly. Helion thought that it was only fair for his, yours, people to have an opportunity to witness this moment, when the first High lady of the Day court was crowned. And believed him, wanting to also make people happy, to make a good first impression and that was probably not possible if you were hiding in the shadows on that important day. You also decided to invite your and some of Helion's friends, which also included some other High lords and their families. You personally invited Thesan - High lord of the Dawn court, High lord of the Winter court and his wife, Tarquin, who was Hugh lord of the Summer court and lastly.. High lord, High lady of the Night court and their Inner circle. 

Before every meeting with other High lords you were incredibly nervous and Helion was trying to calm you down as he could and he was successful, but this time.. It was different and you weren't sure why you felt this way. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, your hands were sweating.. Maybe because you were supposed to meet the only other High lady that existed? Or maybe you were just nervous because you have heard a lot of stories about all of them? Rhysand was the most powerful High lord, his mate had powers of all seven High lords and her sisters were made by the Cauldron.. Not mentioning Cassian and Azriel, who were alive for more than five hundred years and killed more people than you have met in your lifetime. “Don't worry Y/N. They are really nice and don't bite more than me and you are already used to that.” Helion winked at you and you rolled your eyes at him. This was something about him that you absolutely loved and at the same time found annoying. He was such a flirt. “I know and I believe you. Honestly.. I am not sure why I am so nervous.” You as and at the same time tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. Before your mate could respond to you, you heard the sound of the door opening. You looked behind you and to your surprise you met the same eyes you had  and they stared back at you in shock.

There was silence as the others entered the room as well. They were looking at you with shocked expressions and you returned it, mainly to the man that had the same eyes as you. And after a few moments you noticed that the eyes were not the only thing you shared. You also had the same hair, similar features. In the end it was Helion who broke the silence. “I.. I never realized that.” It wasn't surprising he was not very receptive to these things. “That's.. How?” High lady asked, turning to face her mate, who also finally recovered from the shock. “I have no idea, Feyre darling.” He took a few steps towards you. You looked at Helion, not sure what to do. What to say. Was it even possible? Was this really your father or was it some cruel joke made by the Cauldron? How did it happen? “It's her.” You heard a sweet voice from the group. A girl, a woman, in a pink dress came closer. You shared a confused look with your mate. “The girl from my visions. Rhys's daughter.” 

To this moment, the only person who almost made you faint was Helion but when that woman said those words.. You had to grab your mate's strong arms, because otherwise you would be laying on the ground. This did not go unnoticed by your father and your mate, who grabbed you by your waist, holding you firmly. It was not only supporting in standing, it was calming you at the same time. Your father looked with worry. “Are you okay?” He asked you, you nodded in response. “I am, it's just.. a shock.” He smiled at you. “That's understandable. It's a shock for both of us. Well.. for all of us. He turned to his mate and Inner circle, as if he was having a quick conversation with them. After that, they came closer, introducing themselves with bright smiles. You have learned that the lady who was obviously a seer was Elaine, sister of your father's mate. It was Feyre who introduced herself to you last. It was a little bit weird for you, since she was a little bit younger than you and practically your step-mother, but she seemed nice. “By the way, what are you doing here? And how did you find my daughter, Helion?” You almost forgot they didn't know. Inviting High lords to your celebration was also a moment when Helion introduced you to them as his mate for the first time. He looked down at you and you gave him a simple nod. “Well.. she is my mate. And also my future High lady. We wanted to invite you to the celebration personally.” 

Once again, they were shocked, especially your newly found father, who was looking between you and Helion. You wanted to say something. Something that could make this situation a little bit less weird, but couldn't find the right words. In the end, silence was broken by Cassian's and Morrigan's augh. “Well, I did not see that coming.” Your aunt said with amusement in her voice. You smiled nervously, wanting nothing more than to disappear into the thin air. “Congratulations, it's amazing.” Feyre told you kindly and shook Rhysand's hand, so he would wake up from his trance. “Yeah.. congratulations.”He looked from you to Helion. “You better make her happy.” His words warmed up your heart. It was nice of him to look after you only after knowing you for maybe ten minutes. Maybe you were an adult, but that didn't mean you couldn't create a loving bond with him. After the first shock, you finally felt happiness. You had a parent! A father! And at that moment you realized something. With a hope in your eyes you turned to Elaine. “Do you also know who my mother is?”

The smile on her face and the faces of the others froze. Well, except for you and Helion, since you didn't know anything. Elaine swallowed hard, making eye contact with both your father and Feyre, again having some type of silent conversation. After a while, your father sighed. “Your mother.. Well.. Things get a little bit complicated here.” He breathed out. “Maybe you already heard of her. It is.. Amarantha.” It had to be incredibly hard for him to say that. After he said that, he looked away, hurt from memories that came back only after saying her name out loud. 

Of course you were in shock after finding out who your parents were. Being the daughter of the most powerful High lord and also a person who imprisoned not only him, but also your mate and a lot of other people.. Being the daughter of the person who killed and who was the main villain of many people's nightmares wasn't the best thing that could happen to you. But you were lucky to have your mate and also your father on your site. After finding out, you were really sad, angry, ashamed and also worried about what other people would think. What would Helion think? But luckily, he didn't care at all. He supported you, when you were recovering from the news and trying to accept them. He supported you when you tried and later successfully created a bond with your father, but also Feyre and their Inner circle. You were very lucky to have him, to have all of them. You finally had your own happy family.

[the-winter-spider]

Ocean | B.Barnes

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: Angst

A/N: I wrote this forever ago, i had it posted here but i just accidentally deleted it as i was revising everything so im posting it again.

Inspired by the song Ocean by Lady A

Your relationship with Bucky was like an ocean; when the water was still, it was breathtaking. The way both the sun and the moon glistened off of it mirrored the light in his eyes when he looked at you, a reflection of the unspoken bond that tethered you both in deep waters.

But then, the waves would build, the calm shattering into a tempest. You'd fight against the growing swells, struggling to reach him as the riptides pulled him further away. Each wave that crashed over you was a reminder of the distance growing between you, but you weren't afraid to battle the currents, even if it meant drowning in the attempt to reach him.

Eventually, the storm would pass, and you'd find yourself washed ashore, alone, watching as he drifted further and further away. Every time you thought he was lost to the horizon, a flicker of hope would rise in your chest—maybe this time, he would turn back, maybe this time, he would swim to you. But he never did. He always let the ocean take him, surrendering to its cold, unforgiving embrace.

You were left with the sand beneath your feet and the ache of love that felt more like a wound than a comfort. Yet, even as the salt stung your eyes and the wind chilled your skin, you stayed by the shore, waiting for the day when the waves would bring him back to you.

And so, you remained—caught between the pull of the ocean and the longing for the man who seemed to be as unreachable as the horizon.

The waves

He was seated at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. You were in the armchair to his right, close enough to touch, but he felt like he was worlds away.

"Bucky, please talk to me," you pleaded softly, your voice a fragile thread of hope.

He huffed, running a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face. When his ocean-blue eyes met yours, your heart stuttered at the sight of them—their beauty, their depth, and the sorrow that lingered within them. His eyes were always more telling than his words ever could be, a window to the sadness he carried so deeply.

He had so much to say, always did. A whirlwind of thoughts and broken sentences stormed through his mind, a cacophony of unspoken words. Some were secrets he was glad to keep, others were truths he longed to scream, but all of them were trapped in the chaos that never seemed to settle.

His lips parted slightly, as if he were searching for the right words to say. You deserved the world, the stars, the moon—but he feared you didn't deserve the darkness that came with him. Every time he looked at you, he saw the light at the end of his tunnel, but the weight of his past, the shadows that clung to him, made it feel impossible to reach that light.

He shook his head, defeated, as the words that could never express the depth of his turmoil died on his lips. Silence wrapped around the two of you, thick and suffocating.

You sighed, the sound heavy with worry and weariness, and pushed yourself up from the chair. Moving to sit beside him, you placed a gentle hand on his cheek, turning his face toward you. "Please, don't push me away, Buck. Please."

His breath hitched at your touch, his resolve crumbling under the weight of your plea. "I don't deserve you," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it any louder would make it more real.

You felt your heart break a little more at his words, but you refused to let go. "That's not for you to decide," you whispered back, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes. "I’m here because I want to be, but you have to let me in."

His eyes searched yours, desperate and uncertain, as if looking for an answer to a question he didn't know how to ask. For a moment, he just stared at you, his breath shallow, the war within him evident.

Finally, with a shaky exhale, he leaned into your touch, closing his eyes. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, and you could almost feel the walls he had built start to crack.

"I'm scared," he admitted, his voice breaking, the vulnerability in his confession laying bare the depth of his struggle.

"I know," you replied, wrapping your other arm around him, pulling him into an embrace. "But you don't have to face it alone, Bucky. I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

He clung to you then, like a man lost at sea, finally finding a lifeline. The waves might have pulled him under before, but in this moment, he found solace in your arms, the storm within him calming, if only just a little.

You held him tightly, feeling the tension slowly melt away as he rested his head against your shoulder. His breath was warm against your neck, shaky at first, but gradually, it began to steady. The weight of everything he'd been carrying felt palpable in the way he leaned into you, as if he was finally allowing himself to let go, even if just for a moment.

You gently stroked the back of his head, your fingers weaving through his hair, offering him comfort in the only way you knew how. His grip on you tightened as if he feared you'd slip away like the countless dreams that turned to nightmares. But you remained, solid and unwavering.

"I’m so tired," he whispered, the words heavy with exhaustion, both physical and emotional. It was more than just fatigue—it was the weight of a century's worth of pain, regret, and memories that haunted him.

"I know, Buck," you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "You don’t have to carry it all by yourself anymore."

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. His eyes, once turbulent like stormy seas, were now calm but still clouded with doubt. He opened his mouth to say something, but the words seemed to get caught in his throat.

So, you spoke for him. "You don't have to be perfect, or strong all the time. It's okay to be vulnerable, to let someone else shoulder some of the burden."

His expression softened, and a glimmer of something that had been long buried—hope—began to surface. But then, just as quickly, it was shadowed by a flicker of fear.

“What if… what if I hurt you?” His voice trembled, betraying the deep-seated fear he’d never fully voiced. "What if the darkness takes over, and I lose control?"

You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your gaze. "You won’t," you said with conviction, even though you knew the risk.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and this time, he didn’t fight them. He let them fall, a silent acknowledgment of the fears and doubts that had plagued him for so long. And in that moment, something shifted—something fragile and beautiful began to grow between you, a bond strengthened by the shared pain and the promise of healing.

He wrapped his arms around you again, holding you like you were his anchor in the storm. And perhaps you were, but you also knew that he was stronger than he realized—that together, you could weather whatever storms came your way.

As the night wore on, you stayed there, holding him close, not saying anything more. Words weren’t needed. The silence was filled with a quiet understanding, a shared resilience that would carry you both through the darkest of times.

Finally, when the first light of dawn began to peek through the curtains, he spoke again, his voice soft but resolute. "Thank you," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "For not giving up on me."

You smiled, your heart swelling with love and determination. "Never," you replied, your voice steady. "i love you so much Bucky”

And that's what scared him the most.

The Riptide

“No, we're not doing this again, Bucky. Please,” you begged, your voice cracking as tears streamed down your face, a cascade of salt water that mirrored the storm brewing inside you. “Let me in.”

“Doll, I think it's best if you—"

“No!” The word ripped from your throat, louder than you intended, filled with desperation. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, your voice trembling as you continued, “Bucky, I love you so much it hurts. Why won’t you just let me in?”

“That’s just it, Y/N, it shouldn’t hurt.” His voice was soft, almost broken, as he reached out, taking your hands in his. The touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil churning between you.

“You know that’s not what I meant, Bucky… I can handle all of this, if it means I get this.” You pulled your right hand from his grasp, pressing it against his chest, right over his heart. You could feel the steady, somber beat beneath your palm, a rhythm that should have brought you comfort but instead felt like a countdown.

“You already have it. You’re the only light I’ve ever known,” he murmured, his voice full of a kind of hopeless admiration that twisted the knife in your heart even deeper. “But I feel like I’m drowning” He paused, placing his hand over yours, trapping it against his chest, where his heart ached beneath the surface. “But I can’t—I won’t take you down with me. You deserve to be away from this, from me, where it’s safe.”

Your bottom lip trembled, your voice barely a whisper. “So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I just need time.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, your hands slipping from his as disbelief and hurt twisted your expression. “You’re pushing me away… again?”

He didn’t respond, didn’t even lift his head to meet your eyes. The silence was deafening, filled with everything he wasn’t saying, everything he was too afraid to admit.

You scoffed, the sound bitter and full of pain, as you turned away from him, your footsteps heavy as you made your way to the door. Your hand gripped the handle so tightly your knuckles turned white, but you paused, wiping away a tear with your sleeve, your voice breaking as you whispered, “I’m not afraid to drown.”

But when you glanced back at him, hoping—praying—that he would say something, anything to stop you, he remained silent, his head still bowed, as if he were already mourning the loss he’d caused.

The door clicked shut behind you, and with it, the weight of your love felt like it was sinking you, dragging you down into the depths of despair. You weren’t afraid to drown, but you were terrified of what it would feel like to swim in these dark waters alone, with only the ghost of his love as a fading light in the distance.

And as you walked away, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were the one who had been pushed out to sea, leaving him safe on the shore, unwilling to follow you into the deep.

The Shore

It had been seven weeks.

The longest he'd ever pushed you away before, and you were getting scared. Not scared that he didn’t love you anymore, or that he didn’t want you—those were the only things you were ever truly sure of. But you were scared that you were getting used to being alone, that you were learning to live with the emptiness he left behind. And you didn’t want to know how much loneliness you could take before it consumed you entirely, before he truly lost you to it.

“You gonna stand here all day?”

You spun around, your eyes meeting those familiar green ones. Steve stood beside you, resting his arms on the railing. “I think I just might.”

“It’s not hard to get lost in,” he said, his voice gentle, as if afraid to disturb the fragile peace you had found in staring out at the waves.

“It’s a nice escape.”

“And what are you escaping from?” he asked, turning to face you, but your gaze remained fixed on the horizon. He studied you, noting the subtle changes—the way your shoulders slumped slightly, the way your eyes had lost some of their sparkle. You were still beautiful, but there was a heaviness about you that hadn’t been there before. Steve had known you since Natasha brought you into their lives, her unbiological sister. He remembered the fierce, resilient woman who had fought her way out of the Red Room, who had faced every battle with an unwavering spirit. But now, standing beside you, he could see that spirit was fading.

Natasha had tried for so long to set you up with Steve, always teasing him about it. And he had thought about it, more than once. But there was always something in the way—a mission, a battle, or the nagging feeling that you were meant for someone else. And he was right. You were meant for Bucky.

Steve knew what Bucky had been through, and he knew you did too. When things started getting serious between you and Bucky, Steve had sat you down, told you the truth—that Bucky would push you away, again and again, and if you really wanted to be with him, you needed to be ready for that. You had promised Steve that no matter what, you would stand by Bucky, even if it meant enduring the heartache that came with it. You told him that Bucky and he were stuck with you.

But Steve hadn’t expected Bucky to push you away so often, to shut you out so completely. And now, he could see the toll it was taking on you. Each time Bucky pushed you away, another piece of you seemed to disappear, leaving behind someone Steve barely recognized.

Bucky thought he was protecting you, saving you from the darkness that consumed him. Steve had once thought the same—that it was better for you to be kept at a distance than to be dragged down with Bucky. But now, Steve could see that the distance was doing more damage than anything Bucky’s darkness could throw at you. The light in you, the light that had once burned so brightly, was slowly dimming.

“What don’t I have to escape from?” you chuckled bitterly. “There’s always something to need an escape from these days.”

Steve offered you a soft, sad smile. “Well, Y/N, what are you escaping from today?”

He watched as you sighed, your gaze drifting from the water to the shore. “I feel like I’m not only losing him, but I’m losing myself, Steve.”

“He’s doing what he thinks is best for you. He’s doing it because he loves you, Y/N.” He doesn’t know who he was truly trying to convince, him or you.

You finally turned to face him, and Steve felt a pang of guilt as he saw the tear roll down your cheek. You looked so different from the person he had known. Your eyes, once so vibrant, were now dull and tired. Dark circles shadowed them, and your face was gaunt, the result of too many sleepless nights and too many days spent wondering when—or if—Bucky would come back to you. Your hair was longer, unkempt, and you looked frail—like a ghost of the woman you once were.

“I wish that was enough—the whole ‘it’s because he loves you’ line. God, I wish it was, Steve,” you whispered, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. “But it’s not enough anymore. Not when every time he pushes me away, I feel like I’m losing another piece of myself. And I don’t know how many pieces I have left before there’s nothing left of me to give.”

Steve’s heart ached for you, knowing that no matter what he said, it wouldn’t change the reality of what you were going through. He knew Bucky was breaking your heart, even if he didn’t mean to, even if he thought he was doing it for your own good. And the worst part was, Steve couldn’t fix it. He couldn’t make Bucky see what he was doing to you, couldn’t make you stop loving him enough to protect yourself.

“You deserve so much more, Y/N,” Steve said quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

Your lips trembled, and you shook your head. “But I don’t want more, Steve. I just want him.”

Steve swallowed hard, the words he wanted to say caught in his throat. He wanted to tell you that you deserved better, that you deserved someone who would fight to stay with you, not someone who kept pushing you away. But he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. You loved Bucky, and no matter how much it hurt, that wasn’t something you could just walk away from.

Instead, he reached out, pulling you into a gentle embrace. You let out a shuddering breath as you rested your head against his chest, and he held you tightly, wishing he could take away your pain, even if just for a moment.

“I’m here for you, Y/N. Always,” Steve whispered, his voice barely audible. “And I’ll keep fighting for him to come back to you. But if you ever need to talk, or just… be, you know where to find me.”

You nodded against him, your tears soaking into his shirt, and he held you until the sun dipped below the horizon, until the darkness settled over the shore and the only sound was the distant crash of the waves. And in that moment, Steve made a silent promise—to be the friend you needed, even if it meant watching you hold onto someone who was slowly slipping away from you.

Because he knew that loving Bucky wasn’t something you could stop, no matter how much it hurt. And as much as Steve wanted to protect you from the heartache, he knew that this was something you had to face on your own. The only thing he could do was stand by your side, hoping that one day, Bucky would realize just how much he was losing before it was too late.

The lighthouse

Bucky was a runner. He would run when he needed to clear his head, to stay in shape, but more than anything, he would run when things got tough.

He ran from his feelings, from sharing those feelings with you. He ran when he felt himself sinking, spiraling into that familiar darkness that threatened to consume him.

But you weren’t a runner—not like him. You hated running, found other ways to stay in shape. You faced your feelings head-on, confronted them with the kind of courage Bucky admired but couldn’t quite understand. And most importantly, you never ran away from him. So instead, he pushed you away.

And when Bucky pulled back, retreating into himself, that was the only time you would run. Not away from him, but towards him, trying to close the distance he created. You would run into the storm, hoping to bring him back, to hold onto him just a little longer.

But anytime Bucky felt himself start to drown, he would hope, almost pray, that you’d be sent on a mission soon, that you’d be spared from witnessing the worst of him. Because even though he knew you could handle it—would handle it because you loved him—he couldn’t bear the thought of you seeing him at his lowest. He knew you loved him, even if he couldn’t fathom why. You’d do anything for him, even stand by his side when the darkness took hold. But that was the problem. He didn’t know how to let you in, how to share the burden he’d carried for so long.

So when there were no missions to send you on, when you were there, steadfast and unwavering, he asked for space. And you would nod, telling him you’d still be there for him, always. With time, he thought he’d get better, that he could rid himself of the darkness and the rough waters once and for all, and return to you as the man you deserved. But that wasn’t the case. The darkness lingered, and no matter how hard he fought, it remained, a shadow over his every thought.

You were the lighthouse guiding him through the high waters, and he was desperate to reach you. But with each passing day, he noticed your light growing dimmer and dimmer. He thought it was because he was being pulled further away by the current, drifting beyond the reach of your warmth.

It wasn’t until now that he realized the truth. He wasn’t being pulled away. He was anchored to the same spot, stuck in his own despair, and your light wasn’t fading because he was too far gone—it was burning out. He had drained you, piece by piece, until there was almost nothing left.

And that realization hit him like a tidal wave, crashing over him, leaving him breathless and choking on the truth he had refused to see. He wasn’t just lost in his darkness; he was dragging you down with him.

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed, his heart heavy with the weight of his mistakes. He had pushed you away time and time again, thinking it was for your own good, thinking he was sparing you the pain of his brokenness. But all he had done was hurt you, dimming the light that had once been so bright, so full of life. The guilt was overwhelming, suffocating.

He could hear you moving around the apartment, your footsteps light but deliberate, as if you were trying to keep yourself busy, trying to stay afloat. He wanted to reach out, to pull you close and tell you how sorry he was, how much he loved you, how he didn’t want to lose you. But the words stuck in his throat, and all he could do was sit there, paralyzed by fear and regret.

The Current

You lay in your bed, tossing and turning, the sheets twisted around you like a suffocating net. Sleep was a distant memory, elusive and cruel. Without Bucky beside you, it felt impossible to find any peace. The first few weeks without him were always the easiest; his presence still lingered in the room, in the folds of the blankets, in the faint scent on the pillow. You could close your eyes and almost feel his arms around you, hear his steady breathing lulling you to sleep. But now, even that comfort was gone. The memory of his touch had faded, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in its place.

You wrapped your own arms around yourself, trying to mimic the warmth he used to provide, but it was hopeless. The emptiness gnawed at you, growing more unbearable with each passing day. With a heavy sigh, you slipped out of bed, pulled on your slippers, and grabbed a blanket. There was only one place left where you could find any semblance of comfort.

Outside, the night air was cool against your tear-stained cheeks. You settled into one of the lawn chairs, closing your eyes and listening to the sound of the crashing waves. Normally, the ocean soothed you, its rhythmic ebb and flow calming your restless mind. But tonight, the waves seemed to echo the storm inside you, stirring up all the pain and resentment you’d been trying so hard to bury. Before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face, each one a reflection of the tempest raging within.

You felt betrayed, hurt, and angry. The first time Bucky pushed you away, it was only for a couple of days. The second time, a week. And with each time, the distance grew longer, the silence more suffocating. You had been patient, understanding, loving. But you’d reached your breaking point. You couldn’t keep doing this—couldn’t keep losing yourself to the tides of his darkness.

With a frustrated cry, you tossed the blanket to the ground and pushed the chair back, your resolve hardening with every passing second.

“Friday, where’s Bucky?” you asked, your voice trembling with barely suppressed emotion.

“He’s in the gym with Captain Rogers,” the AI responded.

You didn’t care if you had a breakdown in front of Steve. At this point, you didn’t care about anything but confronting Bucky. His feelings had always mattered so much to you, but now you were drowning in the realization that yours didn’t seem to matter to him at all.

The gym door slammed open as you stormed inside. Steve was the first to notice you, concern etched across his features. “Y/N,” he called out, his voice filled with worry.

At the mention of your name, Bucky froze, dropping his arms to his sides. He spun around so fast Steve had to steady him. The last time Bucky saw you was weeks ago, before you left on that solo mission. He remembered waiting for you by the bay doors, pulling you into a tight hug, pressing a kiss to your lips, and promising that things would be better when you returned, that this time would be different. But you didn’t come to find him after you returned. You didn’t seek him out to tell him how it went, and now, as he looked at you, he realized just how much had changed.

You looked worn down, almost broken. Your hair was a mess, flyaway strands framing your face. You’d lost weight, your frame appearing almost fragile in the harsh light. Dark circles shadowed your eyes, which were bloodshot and filled with a pain that made Bucky’s heart clench. Scratches marred your skin, and a bandage with dried blood was wrapped around your forearm. But it was your eyes that struck him the hardest—they were dull, lifeless, so far from the vibrant light he had fallen in love with.

The Ocean

“What about me?” you whispered, your voice cracking as you spoke.

Bucky took a tentative step forward, his heart aching at the sight of you like this. Steve, sensing the intensity of the moment, stepped back, giving you the space you needed.

“What about me, Bucky?” you repeated, tears slipping down your cheeks. This time, you didn’t bother to wipe them away. “I’m so tired of this,” you continued, your voice trembling. “You say that I’m your light, but you’re mine too. And Bucky, it’s so dark now. I can’t do this anymore—it hurts too much.”

His eyes softened, filled with a whirlwind of emotions that he could never quite express. “Do what anymore, doll?” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper, and if the room hadn’t been so silent, you might have missed the way it cracked at the end.

Steve held his breath, afraid to move, afraid that the wrong word or gesture might shatter what little remained of this fragile moment.

“The distance,” you choked out. “I can’t do it anymore. I’m drowning, Bucky.” Your sobs came harder now, shaking your entire body as you buried your face in your hands. “All I want to do is swim… swim back to you, but I’m so tired of doing it alone.”

Without hesitation, Bucky closed the distance between you, wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you close. For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt like you were floating, the waves calming as his embrace anchored you to something solid.

“I’m tired of doing this alone,” you whispered against his chest, your voice barely audible.

Bucky cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that continued to fall. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re right. I’ve been pushing you away, and it’s not fair. You’ve been there for me, through everything, and I should have let you in a long time ago.”

You stared up at him, your eyes searching his, looking for any sign that this time would be different. That this time, he wouldn’t retreat into his darkness, leaving you to navigate the storm on your own.

“Are you really going to let me in, Bucky? Because I can’t… I can’t keep holding on if you’re just going to push me away again.”

He nodded, his expression sincere, his blue eyes shimmering even under the harsh fluorescent lights. “I’m done running, doll. I want to swim with you… I want to face whatever comes, together. I need you, more than I ever realized.”

You let out a shaky breath, feeling the last of your defenses crumble. For so long, you had been the one reaching out, trying to pull him back from the edge. And now, finally, he was reaching back.

“You’re an ocean, beautiful and blue,” you murmured, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. “And I want to swim in you, Bucky. I want to dive deep and never come up for air.”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips. “Then let’s swim together, doll. No more pushing away. No more running.”

And with that, you closed the distance, capturing his lips in a kiss that was long overdue. It was a kiss filled with all the love, all the pain, all the desperation you’d both been holding onto. A kiss that promised things would be different, that you would both fight for each other, for the light that still flickered between you.

The waves outside continued to crash against the shore, but inside, the storm had finally begun to calm.

[mvltisstuff]

hii!! i hope your summer has been/was wonderful!!

if it’s possible could you do an evan buckley request to “begin again” by taylor swift?

where reader was in a really rough relationship and now with buck he’s treating her like an actual goddess and she’s constantly questioning to herself how she deserves it and mentioning how weird it is that he actually cares about/loves her.

thank you so so much in advance!! 🫶

begin again - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif from @meep-meep-richie

a/n: guys i’m SO sorry i have been so slow again w the fics, i’ve just been trying to enjoy summer as much as i can, but i certainly have some coming your way ;)) thank you for the request love, and i hope the rest of your august is lovely <3 i did a bit of a different style with this, hope you enjoy

“can you keep your location on this time?” her boyfriend asks, seeing her getting ready in the mirror.

“i’m just going to work, thomas,” y/n chuckles, thinking it was harmless, but she was his eyes roll almost to the back of his head.

“i’m just asking you one thing, y/n,” he groans.

“i just think you could trust me, i have a long shift today,” she brushes her hair back into an elastic, getting her belongings before grabbing her phone. she always tells herself that she’ll stand up for herself, but she falls into his traps anyway. she presses the small button hesitantly, showing him her location.

“hi, buck!” she greeted, as he walks in the door. he jogs right up to her, kissing the side of her cheek as she giggles into his touch. “i’m going out with some friends tonight, but i’ll be back before you know it so we can spend time together!”

“don’t rush, baby,” he laughs. “take your time with your friends, have a fun night.” he goes to love his stuff onto his counter, but she follows up behind him.

“oh, here, i’ll send you the link to find my friends,” she looks down at her phone, so she doesn’t see the confusion written all over his face.

“the link to what?”

“i’m just gonna send you my location, so you don’t have to ask.”

“honey, i don’t need your location,” he smiles lightly, giving her reassurance and it’s her turn to be confused.

“a-are you sure?” her nose crinkles along with her brows.

“of course, i trust you, always,” he tells her, letting the weight on her shoulders drop. she was hoping he wasn’t mad, but he would never, ever get mad at her for something as silly as that.

“oh!” she says, shocked but still appreciating him. “okay, thank you, i’ll be back in a bit.”

“don’t thank me, just be safe,” he pecks her lips again, watching her skip happily out the door.

y/n looked back in the long mirror again, slipping on a pair of heels to compliment the adorable dress she was wearing. they went along perfectly, and now she finally had an occasion to wear them. she was thrilled to show thomas her outfit, feeling pretty in her own skin and twirling the dress out in the mirror. she turned around, expecting a bright smirk on his face, but she was met with a flat expression.

“what’s wrong?” she asked, concern written in her words.

“nothing,” he grumbles, moving over to adjust his sleeves and grab something from the nightstand.

“no, somethings wrong. i can tell in your voice.”

“y/n, leave it,” he sighs, looking over at y/n who’s still waiting for a response. “are you sure you want to wear that?”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean, its a bit too much, don’t you think?” y/n looked back at the dress, not seeing anything wrong with it. maybe it was the design, her body, but clearly something was wrong with it. maybe she just couldn’t see the way he does. “we’re not going to the club, are we?”

“no, but i wanted to look nice.”

“maybe you should keep looking,” he tried to disguise his heartbreaking words with a light grin, but y/n saw right through it. he loves her, he just wants what’s best for her and she knows he knows best. so, she hung the dress back up and put the heels back in their box. she ran into the bathroom to change again, practicing happy smiles and tried to fight back the stinging tears in her eyes. he doesn’t want her to ruin her makeup.

buck and y/n’s schedules had aligned again, letting her finally be able to meet his real work family. she was so happy she could finally enter this part of his life, and only wanted to support all of his team at the 118.

y/n had been in the bathroom for a while, a little too long for buck to not have any concern. she was examining her outfit, the same dress she wore when thomas told her to take it off. she still felt beautiful in it, but not as much as she did. she never realized how easily someone could take away her confidence. she figured she’d at least leave a pair of new heels out, thinking buck would appreciate the simple sandal.

“y/n?” he knocks, lightly. “you doing alright, honey?”

“yeah!” she answers, suddenly getting that nervous feeling in her stomach. she hesitated on opening the door, but she clicked the lock and pulled it open. she felt more vulnerable than ever standing in front of him. she knew his reaction and that he’d want it off, but she was only met with complete admiration.

“woah,” he exhales, looking at her gorgeous dress and wonderful figure underneath.

“i can change if you don’t want me to wear this, i have a few more options in the bathro-“

“are you kidding? you have to wear this, you look so beautiful in this, y/n!”

“i do?” she asks, looking into his genuine eyes.

“of course you do, what makes you say that?”

“it’s just that, you know, it’s nothing,” she tried to walk back over to the shoe rack, looking for her sandals but his hand stops her.

“hey, talk to me,” buck requests, softly but also wanting her to be able to open up.

“my ex didn’t like this dress, he didn’t think i was good enough for a piece of fabric,” she laughs sarcastically, but buck can tell it hurts her still.

“well, he’s a dumbass, a dumbass who lost you,” he replies. “i’ve never seen someone more gorgeous than you, i don’t care what anyone says. i’ll spend every day proving it to you.”

“how do you do that?”

“do what?”

“just make everything so much better without trying?”

“oh, you know,” buck jokes, putting his arm around her shoulder. “im a natural, that’s all.” she slaps his shoulder, laughing at him before going off to see his family.

y/n stood in the corner of the room in an outfit she never wanted to wear today. she watched everyone converse in a friendly way, only few people stopping by to say hello. even if they did, it lasted a few minutes. she quickly became a decoration to thomas, just being there for silent support before he ditched her for more rich businesspeople. she sipped lightly at her small glass of champagne, wishing she had the whole bottle with her.

he didn’t see any potential in her, not even caring to introduce her until someone asked who she was. she never had felt more out of place, but it became a regular thing. he’d venture off to talk to other people, leaving y/n in the dark. she felt like she was just swept under the rug, something to deal with later.

“bobby, come over here!” buck shouted across the room, waving his hand for bobby to come over. when he did, he had a welcoming smile on his face and shook y/n’s hand. “this is my girlfriend, y/n.”

“it’s nice to finally meet you, y/n,” he says. “we’ve heard a lot about you, like a lot.”

“thank you for having me today,” she replies gracefully, looking at buck who’s glancing back at her with pride in his face.

“it’s our pleasure, really, you’re a delight, y/n.” athena walks in, wrapping her arm around bobby’s waist and offering y/n a drink. buck guides her over to chim and hen who sat together on one of the benches in the grants backyard.

“y/n, this is henrietta, or hen, and then chimney,” buck smiles, his hand still connected with hers and letting her say hello to everyone.

“my real names howard, by the way, not sure if that one bothered to mention that,” chimney pokes fun at buck, who pretends to be offended for a moment but just lets it be.

“i’m glad we can put this lovely face to the name,” hen beams, looking at y/n and feeling the positivity radiating from her. “maybe you can rub off on that one.”

“my names not ‘that one’ by the way, and i’m right here!” buck fake complains, but knowing they all have a good heart. “i’m about to leave and take her with me.”

everyone groans in complaint, making y/n laugh and buck leading her to sit next to everyone. she makes her rounds saying hello to athena’s kids and eddie, everyone finding her to be so graceful. the acceptance from everyone was fully unexpected on y/n’s part, barely being able to comprehend how buck could be so in love with her. she had stepped out for a moment after assisting athena and bobby in the kitchen, buck following right after her.

y/n never got this treatment from thomas, always feeling like she had to beg for it but it was so easy for buck. it made her years of insecurity and questioning vanish, only to be replaced with the security from her loving man.

“you alright?” he asks, meeting her by the steps of the home.

“yeah, i’m perfect!” she tells him. “i just didn’t expect this.”

“they all love you, what’s not to love?” he replies softly, looking her up and down. “you’re smart, you’re the sweetest person i’ve ever met, you’re wonderful in every way, y/n.”

“i remember when thomas took me to work events, and i was just in the corner with a drink. no one really noticed i was there, so it just came as a surprise to see you so affectionate.”

“i’ll always show you off, you’re the best woman i’ve ever met. i want the whole world to know that i managed to get you, and also,” he kisses her lips, bringing her thoughts back down to earth to ease her worries. “i love you, a lot.”

in that moment, y/n knew buck was everything that her ex could never be.

[zu8her]

Guilty | Kuroo Tetsurou

He just wants her to sit on his face. Is that too much to ask for?

There she was. So beautiful in her lavender dress. Her knotless braids, gently tucked behind her white bandana. Walking toward him, giving him a small smile. “Hey, baby.” She greets him pulling him into a tight hug. He could feel her soft tits press against him, smell the aloe vera aroma of her hair, inhale the subtle scent of jasmine and the hint of coconut on her skin, feel her soft hands at his nape entangling his raven strands between her fingers and her breath at the crook of his neck as she softly sighs.

He holds her tightly at her waist. Desperately trying to get her closer. To have her engulf him. Squeezing her hips, he attempts to kiss her. His hooded eyes fixate on her glossed two-toned lips. Unfortunately, his indulgence is interrupted by a classmate greeting y/n, causing her to turn her head and flash a smile. Removing her hand from his shoulder she waves.

He continues to gape at her. At her smile and her tits against his stomach. How perfect. She turns back to him. "What?" He shakes his head. "You wanna study together. I have a Calculus Test in a week and there's this equation that's been bugging me." He gives a hazy nod. In turn, she gives him a look of question before dismissing her worry and entwining her hand with his.

Once they reach his apartment, he unlocks the door and she enters. He watches her. Taking the time to stare at her once more. Scanning every part of her he wants to devour. "Ya coming?" "Yeah..."

As he shuts the door, she pivots for his bedroom immediately discarding her floral dress for one of Kuroo's sweaters that never seem to fit her. He loves that they don't fit her. He loves watching as she pulls off her floral dress, gracing him with Her. Her curves. The stretch marks at her hips. Her arse. The beauty mark just above her torso and her eyes, meeting his gaze.

He moves unconformably with the growing bulge trapped in his pants. Violently, forcing down the ache to wrap his fist around it and stroke to his delight, having precum leak out as she watches. He couldn't take it. He wanted her. He'd had this ache for the past few days. This uncontrollable ache to have her. To fuck her. Empty himself inside her. Taste her. Have her cum permanently linger in his mouth...

He tried to get rid of it. This overwhelming urge to bend her down and have her enjoy repeated backshots. He tried going for a jog. Burying his head in his books. Staying later than usual, practicing with Bokuto, Akaashi, and Tsukishima. A cold shower. Even jerking off to pictures of her but nothing worked.

He is hesitant to ask a simple request of her. If possible, to just sit on his face. But it's finals and he knows how much it means to her to get good grades this semester. She deserves it because works hard. She needed no distractions. He wanted to be that space she could focus, relax and study with.

But he couldn't take it. Y/n, she had been silently seducing Kuroo. Enticing him with the tight pants she wore while at the library outlining her arse. Or the blouse she wore to his match that made him lose focus on occasion. Or how her shorts would hick up whenever she would reach up to get something at home or at the local grocery store. Or now as she puts on his sweater.

Catching his gaze through the mirror she gives a smile. That fucking smile. That pretty little mouth he wants moaning, gagging around his cock.

She didn't mean to. In fact, she has no idea she was seducing him. Fostering such filthy images of herself in his lustful head. She had noticed her boyfriend's strange behaviour since the morning of the Tuesday match. But she figured, if something was on his mind he'd tell her on his own time. She was tempted to ask what's going on but thought better of it.

He shifts in his chair as he sits at his desk. Glaring at Y/n through the mirror. Her body spread on his bed with her silk headwrap as she revises lectures. What a good student she is. Doesn't she deserve a reward?

She lays exposing her plush thighs and stomach, he wants dripping her cum. He watches as she bites down on her pen in frustration. Twirling her pen around her glossed lips. In a huff, she gets up sliding on his slippers, giving him a tantalising view of her plump ass. When she does, he quickly averts his eyes to the book in front of him as she exits his room.

Sighing, he looks down at his growing erection, rubbing it through his pants. Panting and throwing his head back doing so. He snaps his head forward once he hears her return. She reappears with two plates of sandwiches. Placing one on his desk before she slides back on his bed. "Thank you," he whispers. She nods chomping away at her sandwich.

He looks down at the cum seeping through. He continues to admire her through the mirror as she chews and fixates on the math equation in front of her. His eyes dart from her chest down to her stomach and thighs. Those plush thighs he wouldn't mind- actually, wants to get suffocated with. Finally, he had enough. He stands up and walks over to her. She looks up at him with her doe brown eyes. So innocently. Fuck.

"Baby." He calls.

"Mmhm?"

"Could you take a break?"

"And do what?"

She physically stops herself from staring at his throbbing cock but fails. "It'll just be a minute, okay? Then I'll help you with the equation after."

“You promise?”

“Of course, baby.”

He almost felt guilty, fucking her. Having his tongue between her folds. Violently sucking at her throbbing clit. Pulling at her third orgasm, after he lied. "I know. I just need you on my face, okay baby? Cum for me. I just need to taste you- come here.” He coos as she sits on his face. His mouth drenched in her juices as he lays blissfully cum-drunk. Licking her cunt clean. Him with his bruising grip around her shaking thighs, too weak to hold herself up, gloriously suffocating him. Utter bliss as she blesses him with yet another orgasm.

“Baby, please-” she whines, hissing as she painfully grinds on his tongue looking to stop but continuing to cum on his face.

He almost felt guilty watching her as she bounced on his cock. Leaning in to trail kisses down her neck and shoulders. Rocking his hips forward as she chased her own orgasm. "There you go, baby." He held firmly at her waist thrusting into her as cums, watching as her eyes roll back. Loving the way she clenches around his cock as she cums.

He almost felt guilty corrupting his A-student. Wiping away the drool as he fucks her, ass up. "Look how pretty you look, baby." He lifts her head to look up at the mirror, at her fucked-out face. Gripping firmly at her waist fucking her from the back as she tries to get away. "Kuroo-" "No come back here. I- fuck... just need you..." He grins fucking her faster, groaning as she squirts. He tenderly rubs her side as she shakes, slowly rocking his hips forward.

He almost felt guilty rubbing her swollen clit and sucking on her tits as he slowly thrusts into her. Making her a babbling mess around his cock. Wickedly, looking down at her as he edges her by sliding his cock in and out her cum stained cunt and grinding his cock between her leaking folds. Tapping his cock on her pussy as she cums. “You want my cock, baby? There you go.”

He almost felt guilty leaving hicekies all over her body as he fucks his fingers into her. Watching her spasm as he searches knuckle deep for yet another one of her delicious orgasms. Kissing her arm as she grips tightly onto his bicep gasping and whimpering. "Just cum for me, baby." Licking her cum off his fingers as she moans under him.

He almost felt guilty as she sucked his cock. With her fucked out eyes looking up at him. Watching as she innocently rubs his shaft like his little cock-drunk slut she is, licking his tip making him grip her hair and buck his hips. Her moans as she gags around his cock. He didn't give a flying fuck as he came on her tits and moaned as she eat it off her, showing him what a good girl she is, not wasting a drop of it.

He almost felt guilty, corrupting her, but he enjoys hearing her quiet whimpers as he presses against his bulge at her stomach, watching her cum and tasting her, more.

But he did feel guilty for taking her away from her studies. So, he had to make it up to her of course. Making her squirm on his cock as she tried to solve her equation. She leaned back into his chest fucking herself on his cock. Catching her, he holds her hips down. "No baby, no moving. Not until you solve the equation."