#annoyance disguised as banter

[kraeki]

“Have they left you out then?”

“Trent hasn’t, he was my first roommate so we’ve got a good connection.”

So Madders replaced Conor and Ty in the group with Trent, Hendo and Jude but in the process they starting leaving Aaron out? “Don’t leave me” to Trent taking on a new meaning 🥺

[awearywritersworld]

"do you like me?" "nope."

gojo satoru x reader summary: even yuuji realizes that gojo has a crush on you, but you're oblivious as ever w/c: 1.1k tags/warnings: ft. yuuji and megumi. fluff. super light angst. lots of banter. a lil mutual pining. yuuji and gojo being chaotic. gender neutral reader. a/n: not sure how this turned out, but it was fun to write! masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

"(l/n)-sensei!!"

you're trying to relax and really, fifteen minutes is all you want, but these days that seems impossible.

you turn your head toward the sparring field just in time to see yuuji fly into a tree about 30 yards away. megumi is already on the ground struggling to get up.

meanwhile gojo is prancing, literally prancing, in the opposite direction. you walk toward the group with a mixture of annoyance and disappointment playing across your features, all your hope for some peace and quiet crushed.

"that was awesome!" the pink haired boy shouts from amid a mess of leaves and branches.

gojo gushes over the praise, his hands pressing against his cheeks. "thank you, yuuji! it's nice to know someone around here appreciates my unmatched strength."

"i don't remember offering to be a part of the demonstration," megumi grumbles, finally rising to his feet.

his demeanor is less than pleased and you glance at him sympathetically before turning to gojo. "you do know that you're an adult, right? like, as in, a fully grown man."

"(y/n)-chaaaaan, you're always so mean to me," he whines, grabbing your hands dramatically. "what have i done to deserve such cruel treatment?"

"today or in general?" you pretend to think for a second. "i seem to remember you waking me up at seven this morning so that you didn't have to go to your meeting with masamichi-san alone-"

"he was mad at me for skipping the last one i had!"

"-and then you hid my phone for almost an hour because i wouldn't give you my last candy bar-"

"i was starving, (y/n)-chan! it wasn't my fault, you know that!"

"-and then you destroyed that tree, which i really happened to like by the way."

his gaze flickers toward that direction, the splintered wood a sad remnant of what it used to be, then throws his arms in the air. "this is so unfair!"

"(l/n)-sensei! did you see?" yuuji calls out, already fully recovered and bounding toward you.

"i sure did." you chuckle at his tattered clothes and unfazed attitude.

"what'd ya think?"

you really can't bring yourself to scold him, not with all the excitement in his voice. "oh, it was certainly something."

"did you hear that, gojo-sensei?" yuuji lights up.

megumi disguises his laugh with a cough. "i don't think that was a compliment."

the boy visibly deflates so you ruffle his hair. "it was pretty cool, i just don't want you getting hurt." that earns a grin, to your relief.

"so i get yelled at, but you're nice to him?" gojo pouts indignantly.

"yes."

"ugh! this is killing me, (y/n)-chan!" he announces before promptly knocking you to the ground, the action something between a hug and a tackle.

"gojo, get off of me!" you yell, though there's a hint of laughter in your voice.

"i can't! not until you forgive me!"

your giggles ring through the air, music to gojo's ears, and your hands push him away as he tries to tickle your sides. you look like two kids, rolling around in the grass and shouting at one another.

yuuji leans in toward megumi, his voice hushed as if he's about to reveal the world's biggest secret. "i'm starting to think there's something going on between those two."

his friend looks at him as if he's grown a second head. "you're just now noticing?"

~~~

you're making dinner in your apartment while gojo sits on the kitchen floor, his legs splayed out and taking up nearly half of the small room. his blindfold had been discarded at one point or another, something he made a habit of doing when it was just the two of you.

"what are we having tonight, chef?"

"me? i'm having braised chicken thighs. i'm not sure about you though," you tease.

you didn't invite him to dinner, he just kind of followed you back to your place after sparring practice. you don't really mind, you never do, not that you'd ever admit it out loud.

"you wouldn't give me your candy bar and now you won't have dinner with me either? today is the worst! is this still about the tree? i told you i was sorry-"

"geez i was just kidding!" you cut him off. "of course you can have some, but only if you get the flour off the top shelf for me."

"i guess that's a fair trade," he reasons, rising to his feet lazily.

the cabinet is just to your left, so his body presses into yours as he reaches up, the contact making your heart flutter.

"thanks," you exhale when he sets it down within your reach.

he doesn't return to his sitting position, just leans against the counter and watches you carefully stir the ingredients in the pan.

"do you like me?" he inquires suddenly.

"nope."

"hm, do you like like me?" he suggests, a small smirk playing at his lips.

"gojo, that's honestly defamatory."

he rolls his eyes playfully. "c'mon, be serious."

"you be serious," you challenge the usually facetious man.

"i am."

resting your spoon on the pan, you turn to face him, unsure if he's just messing with you like always. the room is silent, save for the faint popping of oil, as he waits for you to say something.

"why do you wanna know?"

"'cause i like you, why else?"

your hands gather the fabric of your apron nervously, crumpling it between your fingers while you avoid his gaze. his words strike you as entirely implausible. after all, he's gojo and you're, well, you.

"you... you shouldn't joke about stuff like that."

he laughs at you and it breaks your heart a little, but then you feel two lithe hands on either side of your face. "(y/n), look at me."

you do, albeit apprehensively, and his eyes bore into your own with an intensity you aren't familiar with. it makes your knees feel weak. a smile tugs at his lips before they capture your own, the movement slow and soft.

your fingers reach up to wrap around his wrist, an attempt to steady yourself against him, before one of his hands travels down to your hip and gives it a light squeeze.

you taste so sweet, feel so perfect in his hands, that gojo kicks himself for waiting so long to kiss you. his lips move to the corner of your mouth, across your cheek, then begin to work their way up your jaw. he hums against your skin, satisfied with the breathy noises he's pulling from your throat.

then, the smell of burning invades your senses and you pull away from each other with wide eyes, exclaiming in unison. "the food!"

[xxchumanixx]

Lilies and Conspiracies pt. 3

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Lilies and Conspiracies pt. 3 - personal guard dog

Warnings/Tags: fluff, nothing more yet really

Word count: tba

Authors note: Get ready for some brother-time! I like Max, and I personally like the idea that they are not like everyone else in the ton.

Series Masterlist -> pt. 4

Enjoy!

You nodded, acting like you agreed, when the door opened again, and you haven't ever been more glad to see your brother enter the room.

You looked up at him, silently pleading to save you, but acting like you were surprised to see him. "Max, what is it?" you asked, furrowing your brows in faked confusion. "We have an appointment at the modiste in half an hour." he said. "I'm sorry, but I fear the gentleman have to excuse themselves. Of course you can return later, we'll be in the park afterwards."

You sighed dramatically. "Oh, I forgot." you said, feigning dismay. "I am so sorry, my Lords. But I need to get new dresses for the upcoming balls." You were disappointed you would have to bid Anthony goodbye already, but you silently hoped to see him at the park later.

Anthony hid his relief as your brother entered the room, providing the perfect excuse to end your interaction with Lord Pendale.

As Max spoke, he watched you and Pendale attentively, observing what he assumed as being feigned surprise, and he knew you were just as relieved as him.

Thank God. he thought to himself. He couldn't take one moment longer of seeing you having to pretend to be polite to that arrogant lord without a few not so polite words slipping past his lips.

He glanced at Max as he announced the appointment at the modiste, then back at you. Though he was disappointed that your time together was cut short, he knew it was a blessing in disguise.

Pendale, however, seemed annoyed at the interruption, his smirk faltering slightly. "Oh, yes, I see." he said, clearly not satisfied with the abrupt end to his visit. Anthony, on the other hand, couldn't help a small smirk of satisfaction at seeing Pendale's annoyance. The pompous lord didn't take well to being interrupted.

As you feigned dismay and apologized, Pendale stood up, clearly miffed. "Well, I suppose we have no choice but to leave." he said, his tone sulking.

"I am really so sorry, Lord Pendale." you apologized, standing up, too. "But I hope to see you soon. I can't wait to learn about finances of you. You make it sound so irresistibly interesting."

Pendale's expression softened slightly at your words, his ego clearly boosted by your flattery. He couldn't resist the opportunity to appear knowledgeable and interesting.

"Oh, well, you're in luck, Miss Barton." he said, his smirk returning. "I'd be more than happy to teach you anything you want to know about finances."

He then turned to Anthony with a quick nod. "Lord Bridgerton." he said in farewell before walking out of the room.

You bit your lip, scratching your brow. "Well, that was rather interesting." you muttered, before turning to your brother. "You have no clue how grateful I am for your interruption, brother."

You didn't care that Anthony heard your words of relief, something a woman was taught to hide and not show so openly.

You had the feeling he felt the same.

Max chuckled, clearly sensing your relief at the end of Pendale's visit. "No need to thank me. I know you were probably bored out of your mind." he said, a smirk on his face. "And honestly, it was a pleasure to interrupt that pompous lord. His presence was quite insufferable."

Anthony stifled a laugh as he stood, finding Max's assessment of Lord Pendale amusingly accurate. He silently agreed that Pendale's presence was, in fact, quite insufferable.

He watched as you and your brother exchanged banter, a hint of warmth blossoming in his chest at the closeness between you two.

It reminded him of his own siblings.

Meanwhile, Max playfully nudged you, teasing you. "Well, we have to run now to make our appointment." he said, clasping his hands behind his back.

"I hope to see you at the park, Lord Bridgerton?" you asked, looking at Anthony. "Maybe we can continue our talk there, without Lord Pendale and his finances. Or Lord Berbrooke." You shuddered at the sudden thought of him.

Anthony felt a smile pull at the corners of his lips at your question. He certainly hoped to see you again at the park, too. The thought of spending more time with you, without the likes of Pendale or Berbrooke, was very appealing.

"Indeed, Miss Barton." he replied, his tone soft and warm. "I look forward to continuing our conversation in a more pleasant setting." Anthony's expression darkened at the mention of Berbrooke. "With the absence of certain annoying individuals."

You snorted, but quickly put your hand in front of your mouth, biting your lip. "Then I suppose I'll see you soon." you said, after removing your hand again.

With that you left the room with Max, making your way to the modiste.

Anthony chuckled softly, amused by your snorted laughter and the quick attempt to hide it.

He watched as you left the room with Max, the sight of you walking away stirring a pang of disappointment within him. He would've preferred to continue talking to you, but he understood the necessity of your appointment at the modiste.

As you and Max headed out of the room, Anthony stayed behind, a subtle sense of eagerness growing within him. He couldn't wait to see you again at the park later.

When seated in the carriage, Max sent you a pointed look. "What?" you asked. His look deepened, before he shook his head. "I thought I told you about Lord Bridgerton's reputation." he said. You huffed, shaking your head as well. "He's a respectable suitor." you gave back. "I want to see for myself who he is. Whistledown certainly has a habit to exaggerate."

Max raised an eyebrow at your response. "Respectable suitor?" he echoed, his voice dripping with disbelief. "Y/N, you've heard the whispers. Lord Bridgerton has quite the reputation. He's known for being the most notorious rake in London."

He leaned back against the seat of the carriage, fixing you with a stern look. "And you think Whistledown is exaggerating? You know her words hold quite a bit of truth."

You bit your cheek. "I know they do." you said. "Her words certainly have the power to destroy once reputation. But since when do I listen to what others say?"

Max chuckled dryly, "You've always had a tendency to not listen to others, I'll give you that."

He sighed, then continued more seriously. "But you can't ignore the rumors surrounding Lord Bridgerton. He might hold a respectable title, but his reputation precedes him as an infamous rake. He's not known for being interested in a serious courtship."

Max looked at you meaningfully, his gaze concerned. "Just be careful, Y/N. I don't want to see you getting hurt."

You nodded, feeling a pang in your heart. "What makes you so sure he's not interested in a serious courtship?" you wanted to know, not fully able to hide the hope in your voice. "Why else would he have been at our house this early in the morning to visit me?"

Max paused, considering your question. He knew you had a point, but he was still wary of Anthony's intentions - especially when it was his mother that announced he’d be looking for a wife, not himself.

"I suppose that's a fair point." he conceded. "But there still might be other reasons for his visit. He might be trying to improve his reputation, or he might be simply interested in a short-lived dalliance."

Max reached out, gently placing a hand on your arm. "Please, Y/N. Just be careful. Don't let yourself become enamored with him, only to be left heartbroken."

You nodded again, swallowing. "I won't." you assured him, looking up at him. "But I have to find a suitor nonetheless. Maybe not a love match, but I hope to find someone that at least respects me for who I am, not for who I'm ought to be."

Max regarded you with an understanding smile. He knew how important it was for you to find a suitable match, someone who would value you for more than just your title or status.

He squeezed your arm gently, his expression solemn. "I understand.” he spoke softly. “I want nothing more than for you to find someone who respects and adores you for all that you are. But please, don't rush into anything with Lord Bridgerton."

He gave you a meaningful look. "Promise me you'll be cautious."

You nodded. "I promise." you said. "He seemed honest and he shared my opinions this far." you added. "And his mother made clear he is looking for a wife this season."

Max's expression softened slightly, reassured by your promise. Yet he remained vigilant. "His mother is eager to see him married, yes. But you must know that doesn't guarantee his own desire for a wife." he explained, before sighing.

"I know you think he shares your opinions and seems sincere. But always remember that people can be quite deceiving. Especially gentlemen of his reputation."

He squeezed your arm again. "Just keep your guard up, my dear. I wouldn't want to see you taken advantage of by a notorious rake."

You snorted, sending him a pointed look. "Oh, please, Max." you said. "Aren't you quite the rake yourself?"

Max chuckled at your response, his smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well, I suppose I do have a certain reputation." he conceded, a hint of pride in his tone.

He leaned back against the carriage seat, crossing one leg over the other. "But I assure you my dear, I don't mess with innocent little debutantes like yourself."

He smirked again. "My tastes are a bit more...experienced."

You hit him playfully, acting shocked at his boldness. "Max!"

Max burst out laughing, enjoying your playful shock. "What?" he teased, feigning innocence. "Don't act so scandalized. I'm just being honest."

he chuckled, as he straightened himself, his smirk deepening. "You know me Y/N, I always go after women who know exactly what they're getting themselves into."

You shook your head, not able to hide a grin, though. "I'd like to see the day you marry." you joked.

Max chuckled again, a smug expression on his face. "Oh, don't hold your breath, dear sister." he teased. "I plan on remaining a bachelor for as long as possible."

He paused for theatrical effect. "Besides, I find the idea of chasing after married women quite exhilarating."

He winked at you, clearly playing the part of the mischievous rake.

You clicked your tongue, shaking your head. "I am surprised Whistledown hasn't written about you, yet." you said. "You're quite the walking scandal."

Max raised an eyebrow, a smirk still plastered on his face. "Oh, darling sister, I must say I'm hurt." he said, mock offense in his voice. "How could you suggest such a thing? I'm a perfect gentleman."

He chuckled, leaning back against the carriage seat. "But I suppose it doesn't surprise me that Whistledown hasn't targeted me yet. She probably can't keep up with all my escapades."

You rolled your eyes, as the carriage slowed. "You're insufferable."

Max feigned a surprised gasp, pretending to be deeply wounded by your remark. "Oh, such harsh words from my own flesh and blood." he said in a dramatic tone, placing his hand over his chest.

The carriage came to a stop, and he chuckled, a proud smirk returning to his face. "But you know you love me anyway, Y/N."

You shook your head. "What other choice do I have?" you asked, smirking at him, as the door of the carriage was opened. You were helped out of the carriage, standing in front of Madame Delacroix's dressmaker.

Max stepped out of the carriage after you, a smirk on his face as he followed you into the dressmaker's. "None at all, I'm afraid." he said playfully.

As you entered, the shop appeared vibrant and elegant, filled with an array of beautiful gowns, fabrics, and accessories. The shopkeeper, Madame Delacroix, immediately noticed your arrival.

"Miss Barton." she greeted you with her france accent, curtsying. "Lord Barton."

Max smiled at Madame Delacroix. "Madame." he greeted back, bowing his head respectfully.

She then turned her attention directly to you. "Ah, Miss Barton, it is so lovely to see you."

She gestured around the shop. "We have many new arrivals today. I am sure we will find the perfect gown for you."

You nodded, smiling. "I can't wait."

Madame Delacroix returned your smile, clearly excited to help. "Excellent. Come, come. Let us look through the newest fabrics we have."

She led you and Max into the shop, guiding you past racks upon racks of colorful fabrics, the silks and satins shimmering in the light.

The shop felt like a little treasure trove of fashion.

Your fingers brushed over the various fabrics, trying to decide what you wanted. "I want at least one dress in lavender and one in baby blue." You stopped in front of a fabric that reflected the light in rainbow colors. “And this one on a dress."

Madame Delacroix nodded, clearly aware that you had a good eye. "Ah, excellent choices, Miss Barton.” she compliemented. “Lavender and Baby Blue are always lovely hues for a young Miss."

She then noticed the fabric you pointed out, the one with glimmering rainbow colors. "And that one is quite special indeed.” she spoke, nodding. “That's a beautiful iridescent silk. It will look absolutely stunning when made into a gown."

You nodded. "I want a gown of it and some with it as accents."

Madame Delacroix smiled, clearly pleased by your choices. "Of course, my Lady. That fabric will be perfect for making a stunning gown."

She gently took some of the fabric and held it up against you. "With your complexion, and the way it reflects the light, you will look absolutely radiant."

You smiled. "I'd like that."

Madame Delacroix nodded, smiling back at you. "Excellent. I will arrange for a gown made from this iridescent silk and incorporate some accents into other gowns too."

She then gestured toward the racks. "Now, shall we look for the other fabric options for the Lavender and Baby Blue dresses?"

You nodded. "Yes, please."

Madame Delacroix led you over to the appropriate section of fabric for the Lavender and baby blue dresses. She carefully picked out some swatches, holding them up against your face to see how they reflected against your complexion.

"Here, these would look lovely with the Lavender hue." she said, holding up a soft, delicate cotton fabric with a slight sheen to it. "And for the baby blue, maybe something a bit brighter, like this silk jacquard."

You felt the fabrics between your gloved fingers. "I like these." you said, nodding. "I'll take them."

Madame Delacroix smiled, pleased to hear your approval. "Excellent choice, my Lady.” she said. “The lavender will feel soft and lightweight against your skin, and the baby blue will have a lovely shimmer."

She made note of your choices, then looked up at you. "Now, any particular style or design you have in mind for these gowns?"

You thought for a moment. "Surprise me." you then said. "I don't have a particular style in mind, but maybe you can add some styles as accents or something, maybe something from France. You're the schooled one, I believe you'll make these gowns something special."

Madame Delacroix chuckled, clearly flattered by your trust in her. "Of course, Miss Barton. I will use my experience and creativity to design something special."

She nodded, then began to jot down some more notes. "I'll add some unique elements, perhaps a surprise detail on the lavender gown, and a special accent on the baby blue. Nothing too drastic, just enough to make them stand out."

You nodded. "I'd love that." you said, the thought of Anthony suddenly in the back of your mind. Maybe he would notice the details, maybe you’d stand out from the other girls.

Madame Delacroix smiled, clearly excited to get started on your gowns. "Wonderful."

She wrote down the last few notes, then looked up at you. "I'll begin working on these immediately. I assure you, Miss Barton, these gowns will be spectacular." she promised.

You nodded. "I'm sure they will." you spoke. "Very well, then I suppose we will pick gloves and such later? When the gowns are done, or now?"

Madame Delacroix considered the question for a moment, then replied. "I suggest we wait to pick out the gloves and accessories until your gowns are complete." she suggested. "That way, we can coordinate the colors and styles perfectly. What do you think, Miss Barton?"

You nodded. "Perfect."

"Excellent." Madame Delacroix smiled. "Then I will begin your gowns. Please come back to my shop when they're ready, and we'll select the perfect gloves and accessories to match."

You nodded again. "Thank you, Madame Delacroix."

She bowed her head in response. "It's my pleasure, Miss Barton." she returned. "I look forward to seeing you again soon when the gowns are done."

With that you bid her goodbye, leaving the Modiste together with Max.

Max, having been silently observing you and Madame Delacroix, smiled and offered you his arm as you left the dressmaker's shop.

"Well, I must say, Y/N, you certainly have an eye for fashion." he said, his trademark smirk in place.

You rolled your eyes. "Of course I have." you gave back. "One of us has to."

Max chuckled, fully aware of his own lack of interest in fashion. "Oh, come now, Y/N. You know I have other priorities than the latest trends and frills."

He squeezed your arm playfully, a hint of mischievousness in his voice. "I focus on more... enjoyable things."

You huffed. "Such as certain nightgowns, I guess?"

Max let out a hearty laugh at your comment, clearly amused by your tease. "Oh, darling sister, you know me too well." he spoke. "Let's just say I appreciate a beautiful woman in even more beautiful garments."

He gave you a wink, the playful banter between you both almost like a sibling ritual.

"That's what I thought." you mused. "So, the park it is now? We shall get the staff working to gather the pavilion and stuff."

Max nodded, the topic of conversation shifting as you mentioned the park. "Yes, the park."

He looked around, taking in the surroundings. "I'll arrange for everything necessary - pavilion, refreshments, any decorations. It will be a lovely setting for our atay at the park."

You nodded. "Perfect. Then I'll change into a more fitting gown, and we can go." you said, stopping in front of the carriage.

Max helped you into the carriage, a smirk on his face. "Oh, you want to change into a more fitting gown, do you?" he teased. "Does that mean you're trying to impress someone in particular with your attire?"

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the playful banter between you two.

You chuckled. "I have to, after all I'm supposed to find someone to marry, am I not?"

Max nodded, clearly amused by your comment. "Ah, yes. The hunt for a suitable suitor, how thrilling."

He chuckled again. "But tell me, darling sister, who exactly are you hoping to impress?" he wanted to know. "Or should I say, make a certain viscount jealous?"

You choked on your own saliva, coughing for a short moment. "I don't know what you mean." you then said. "After all you were the one telling me not to get too close to him, because he doesn't want to marry and, most importantly, is a notorious rake."

Max chuckled at your reaction, clearly finding your coughing episode quite humorous. "Oh, darling sister, you can deny it all you want, but you can't fool me."

He leaned closer, his smirk growing wider. "I saw the way you looked at him, the subtle glances, the way your cheeks flushed. You can't deny there's some interest there."

You glared at him. "How ironic of you to say after telling me to basically get away from him."

Max shrugged, his smirk unfaltering. "Oh, come now, Y/N. I was just looking out for you." he defended himself half-heartedly. "You know how rakes can be, especially someone with a reputation like Viscount Bridgerton."

He chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. "But you must admit, he is quite handsome." he added. "And his charm can be rather intoxicating. It's understandable to be attracted to him."

You rolled your eyes. "He is indeed handsome, but I think I can assure you he's not interested in men." you said. "Unlike you, with your interest in both."

It was forbidden, yet it didn't stop some of the men that were interested in their same gender. "As for being attracted to him," you continued. "I wish to marry out of love. I hardly know him."

Max chuckled, not denying your accusation about his own preferences. "You know me all too well, darling sister." he said, before shrugging casually. "But as for marriage, love is not a requirement, especially in our circles. Marriages of convenience abound, and that's exactly what you need: a practical and advantageous union."

You bit your cheek. "Yeah, I know." you said. "But one can wish, can I not?"

Max nodded, his teasing smile softening slightly. "Of course, darling sister. Wishing and hope are not forbidden." he spoke, chuckling softly. "Just make sure you keep your expectations in check. You know how the world of high society works. Love is not always on the table in these arranged matches."

"It hardly ever is." you agreed. "Still I want something like our parents had. I want love, unconditional and never ending love. There's still some time left till the end of the season, maybe I'll still find it. That is, if no one asks for my hand before that and you sell me off."

Max tilted his head, his eyes studying you intently. He knew you well and could sense your hopefulness for love not fading. "Spoken like a true dreamy romantic, Y/N."

He chuckled softly, his words not without sympathy. "I understand your desire for love, I truly do. But remember that practicality must come first. If a suitor of good standing asks for your hand, we must consider the benefits of such a union."

You scoffed. "You're saying that like you were in my position." you said. "Yet you can choose who you marry, whilst I am chosen."

Max ran a hand through his hair, a small sigh escaping his lips. "I may have more freedom in choosing a partner, but you must remember that our social standing depends on you making a good match." he returned, but softening his tone. "I'm simply saying that in our world, love must take a backseat when strategic connections are at stake. Your marriage, no matter how much you hate it, could make or break our family's future."

You nodded, feeling that burden on your shoulders every time you talked to a potential suitor. "And what about a Viscount?" you asked, a bit hopeful. "Would a Viscount be a good match?"

You intentionally didn't say a name, though.

Max raised an eyebrow, clearly catching on to your meaning. "A Viscount hmm?" he made. "Someone in particular on your mind, darling sister? A Viscount would be a most advantageous match, no doubt about it. A respected title, a high social standing, and the potential for a well-connected union."

You sighed, nodding. "Well, then we'll have to see what comes out of this season, will we not?" you spoke, as the carriage arrived back at your home. "But I don't want lord Pendale or Berbrooke."

Max chuckled, rolling his eyes at the mention of Lord Pendale and Berbrooke. "Lord Pendale is a buffoon and has the wit of a brick, he wouldn't be a suitable match for you."

he told you, before he sighed disdainfully at the mention of Lord Berbrooke. "And Berbrooke...I would rather see you marry a horse than that greasy worm."

You snorted at his choice of words, when the carriage door was opened. "Wise words, brother." you said, taking the hand of the horseman that helped you out of the carriage. "Like a true gentleman."

Max chuckled, stepping out behind you. "Oh, you flatter me, darling sister. I'm always the picture of gentlemanly decorum."

He followed you into the house, smirking. "But worry not. I shall guard your reputation fiercely. No greasy worms or fools will be allowed near you."

You nodded. "Then I'm glad to have you by my side, dear brother." you said playfully. "My personal guard dog."

Max rolled his eyes, playing along with your teasing. "Oh, please. I am much more refined than a mere guard dog." he said. "Perhaps a lion, or a mighty dragon, ready to protect its treasure at all costs."

You scoffed. "A dragon, huh?" you chuckled, shaking your head, walking towards the stairs. "I'll let you know when I'm ready to go to the park."

Max chuckled, watching as you ascended the stairs. "Very well, darling sister. I'll have the carriage prepared for your convenience."

He gave you a mock salute. "And I shall wait here like a proper dragon guard, ready to burn down any unworthy suitors who dare approach you."

You snorted, shaking your head, before you went into your room.

Max chuckled, watching you disappear into your room. He leaned against a wall, his thoughts wandering. He knew he had his duties to ensure you would find a suitable match, but he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for having to act as your matchmaker rather than your brother.

With a sigh, he made his way outside to instruct the staff to prepare the carriage for your trip to the park.

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@queenslandlover-93 @chauchirem

@serenadingtigers

[spiriteddreams]

teasing fluff with al-haitham to ring in the new year! c/w: slightly suggestive at the end (no nsfw)

al-haitham is the type of man to come up from behind while you're talking with other people, hands finding their place at your waist as he glowers at the person talking to. well, he'd only glower at them if they weren't his superior, but still the point stands. and it just so happens that he's caught you in sumeru city in the evening, standing across from kaveh.

"i've been looking for you, dear." he says into your ear, low and teasing as he relishes in the way you stiffen up, no doubt surprised and desperately trying to keep your composure at his actions. you barely manage to respond to him as he pulls away all too quickly. he wants to snicker at the way you lean towards him, but for the sake of your dignity, and so that you won't try to fight him later, he stays close, wrapping one arm around you as he turns to face the person in front of you.

"must you always act this way? we were talking!" al-haitham relishes in the way kaveh sends him a scalding glare. you seem to shrink under your friend's words even if you're well aware that all his annoyance is directed towards the man next to you.

al-haitham shrugs, "it didn't seem very important." kaveh sputters out nonsense and he feels your body shake, your hand coming up to disguise your quiet laughter as a cough. but kaveh isn't stupid, and he catches on rather quick.

"oh archons, not you too!" kaveh exclaims, exasperation dripping from his words as he looks between you and al-haitham. "i swear, you're such a bad influence." al-haitham tugs you closer and you instinctively lean towards him as kaveh watches the entire scene unfold. he's not new to al-haitham's sudden acts of affection around you, but he's rather surprised that his roommate is able to show such affection. he won't admit it to al-haitham that it's a nice change, that at least he isn't being scoffed at or faced with snarky comments from the grand scribe. it's that thought alone that has kaveh grateful that you can keep a secret, and that the honest conversation that the two of you were having just before al-haitham interrupted will be sealed behind your lips. he thinks you both balance each other out nicely, and it's rather refreshing to see someone playfully banter back and forth with the scribe and still manage to hold his heart.

"you can always move out." al-haitham says blandly, "then i— we won't have to hear your complaints." kaveh's jaw drops and you can't help but laugh loudly. the man next to you turns to look at him, his smirk turning into a genuine smile at your reaction. he ignores the way his heart pounds in his chest when you lean your head against his shoulder.

"don't threaten kaveh, he already puts up with you all the time." you tease, looking up at your lover.

al-haitham grins, "already choosing sides?" he leans closer, that familiar and dangerous smirk playing on his lips. kaveh sputters out more protests, hand flailing as he mumbles something about 'giving the lovesick birds their clearly needed space.'

"thank the archons that he's gone." al-haitham gently tugs you to face him. he's quite thankful that the streets are rather empty at this hour so there aren't too many people that might witness this moment. your faces are lit up by the soft glow of the street lights, hands refusing to leave one another as you bask in the presence of a lover. you think you could get lost in his eyes: cyan with a speck of gold, his signature calculating gaze now softened into something more gentle. the corner of his lips tug up as he holds your stare, no doubt thinking of the next way he can tease you.

but before he can go further with his sly words and knowing gazes, you move first, wrapping your arms behind his neck and pulling him close as your mouth slots against his. his hands splay across your back, pulling you in close, holding you in close for one second, two seconds, you're not quite sure how long you stay like that before you're forced to pull back for air. and it's like you fall in love all over again, staring at him with his flushed cheeks and teasing eyes, words dying on the same lips you've kissed over and over again. the lights make it look like he's glowing and the sumeru breeze seems to agree with the way it runs along your skin and causes a shiver to run down your spine.

"why don't we go home, hm?" you smile, words nearly lost in the night, only for him to hear. "i've missed you."

the keys in al-haitham's pocket feel just a bit heavier and he bites back snickering words as he begins to guide you home. surely kaveh can find somewhere else to stay for the night.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: so it was al-haitham fluff or gojo angst to be posted tonight but since it's new years day i went with the happier decision :D

[reasonsmandy]

She's My Fire

Warren Rojas x Fem!Reader

✧.* requested by anon @legendaryprunerascalpaper — hiii can you do num .14 and num .31 on your prompt list with warren. I need more imagines of him. please and thank uuu :)

✧.* summary — Intensity, instability, desire and love that's what surrounded you and Warren since forever. And he was never good at dealing with it.

✧.* warnings — Mention and connotation of sex, mention of drugs.

✧.* word count — 6.5k

✧.* 🥁 — Warren's masterlist

✧.* mandy's notes — I got carried away on this one hahaha, I hope you like it. Good reading 🫶🏾

Warren had known you since you were both wide-eyed children, exploring the world with boundless curiosity. You had grown up side by side in Pittsburgh, your lives intertwined through shared family gatherings, school events, and endless childhood adventures. After all, he was best friends with your brother, Eddie.

But it wasn't until you reached the tumultuous years of adolescence that Warren began to see you through a different lens. As the awkwardness of youth morphed into the stirring complexities of adulthood, he found himself captivated by your evolving presence. The innocence that once defined your interactions began to take on new shades of meaning. He felt desire for you, he felt need for you, he wanted you close... And this new feeling scared him.

Caught off guard by this shift, Warren stumbled through the maze of his own emotions. Confusion mingled with fascination, and the lines between friendship and something more blurred. It was a delicate dance, one he was ill-prepared to navigate.

Fearing the vulnerability that accompanied these uncharted waters, Warren sought refuge in the familiar territory of rivalry. He masked his burgeoning feelings with snarky comments and competitive banter, disguising the depth of his emotions even from himself. The label of "hate" was a convenient shield to guard against the turmoil within his heart.

But deep down, he knew that his growing attraction to you was far from hatred. It was an unspoken yearning, an ache to be near you, to understand the intricacies of your mind and soul. The confusion only intensified as the years passed, leaving Warren caught between the comfort of your shared history and the undeniable pull he felt towards you.

He didn't like to admit it but the rivalry he created between you aroused an attention from you that he loved. He loved seeing your eyes roll when he made an unnecessary comment, he loved the way you bristled at his presence, he loved having that attention from you even if it was under those circumstances.

For you on the other hand, there was an undeniable clash between the two of you. Your spirited personalities clashed like opposing forces, resulting in constant arguments and bickering. It seemed as though you couldn't agree on anything, and your dynamic became defined by rivalry and irritation.

However, beneath the surface, there was always a part of you that wondered why Warren seemed to provoke such strong emotions within you. You couldn't deny the electric tension that crackled in the air whenever he was near. It was a mixture of annoyance and something inexplicably more, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

Warren is best friends with your brother, Eddie, so he's always lived in your house, you'd recognize that curly hair from miles away, would you know which laugh was his amid the audience of a comedy show, he was one in a million and you knew all the characteristics that made him such. To say that you were close would be an exaggeration, but your relationship was always peaceful and friendly until that day...

You wake up startled, the bead of sweat runs down your forehead and your hands shook as your uneven breathing became more evident. You sigh opening your eyes, facing the ceiling of your room, the night was still evident in the window and you think it would be the early hours of the morning.

Relief that it was just a nightmare washes over you like a cold shower on a hot day, you sit up in bed trying to catch your breath. You've already lost sleep anyway, so you decide to take a cold shower to calm down, and it works.

You watched yourself in front of the bathroom mirror, the icy floor made your body shiver as you dried the locks of your hair. You wrap yourself in a towel and walk down the hall to your room, the environment was dark and you didn't want to turn on any light so as not to wake up who was in the house. For this reason, your steps were light and slow.

"Hey kiddo, are you alright there?" In a loud whisper you hear Warren's voice behind you.

"Fucking hell Warren!" You jump in fright, clutching the towel to your body. "What the fuck are you doing up so late? I didn't even know you were here, my god."

"Eddie called me at the last minute.” Warren answers your last line. “What are you doing up at so late?” He returns the question.

Watching him only lit by the moonlight was almost like watching an opera, he was so beautiful.

"Couldn't sleep." You reply by trying to ignore the way your heart was racing at the thought of what it would be like to have his arms around your waist pulling you close. He arched his brows in concern. "Just a silly nightmare, and since I couldn't sleep... I decided to take a shower."

"I'm sorry about that." And he says with a friendly smile, for a few moments you remain silent, he puts his hands in his pockets as if trying to quiet something in him. "Well I'll leave you alone now..."

"Actually." You say holding his arm, preventing him from leaving. "Don't you want to smoke a joint with me?"

Rojas smiles, watching your hand on his arm, he breaks free of your grip and takes your hand. "Hell yeah."

As you settle on your bed, you take out a joint from a small stash hidden in your bedside drawer. The soft glow of the moonlight seeps through the window, casting a tranquil ambiance in the room. You light the joint, taking a deep inhale before passing it to Warren.

You lie side by side, your bodies comfortably sprawled on the bed, your eyes focused on the ceiling above. The smoke wafts around you, creating a haze that adds to the air of relaxation. You take turns passing the joint between you, the ritual creating a rhythm that matches the cadence of your conversation.

Your voices mingle in the quiet space, the exchange of words flowing freely as you delve into topics both light and profound. The weight of the world seems to dissipate as you talk about your dreams, your fears, and your shared memories. The ceiling becomes a canvas upon which you paint your hopes and vulnerabilities.

The sound of laughter fills the room, intertwining with the fragrant smoke as you reminisce about childhood antics and silly escapades. Time becomes elastic, the minutes stretching into moments of pure connection. You share secrets and dreams, your guards gradually falling away with each passing breath.

Occasionally, your eyes meet, the unspoken desires flickering in the depths of your gazes. There is a magnetic pull between you, a palpable tension that lingers in the air. It's as if the universe has conspired to bring you to this moment, where the boundaries that once defined your relationship begin to blur.

You find solace in the comfort of each other's presence, a sanctuary within the walls of your bedroom. The joint burns down to the end, but the intimacy shared in this small space continues to grow. You talk about everything and nothing, your voices echoing in the room, creating an invisible thread that binds you closer.

As you lie there, side by side, your fingers gently grazing, the silence between your words speaks volumes. The world outside your bedroom seems distant and insignificant, while the connection you share becomes the focal point of your universe.

In the dimly lit room, the soft murmurs and shared laughter wrap around you like a warm embrace. Time seems to stand still as you navigate the delicate balance between friendship and something more, your heart pulsating with anticipation for what lies ahead.

The ceiling above, adorned with scattered constellations of stardust, bears witness to your unspoken desires and the uncharted territory you are about to embark upon. In this hazy, vulnerable moment, you find yourself on the precipice of a love that has been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

You both lie there, gazing into each other's eyes, the silence pregnant with anticipation. The intensity of the moment hangs in the air, the unspoken desires swirling between you like a tempest.

A small smile plays on Warren's lips as he breaks the silence. "You know, Y/N," he says, his voice husky, "You're staring."

You can't help but chuckle softly, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement. "That's probably the joint's fault," you reply, your voice tinged with playful warning. You smirk at him and sit on his lap. "And if you say one word of that to my brother, I'll rip you apart."

Warren's eyes sparkle with a mix of mischief and desire, and before you can react, he suddenly flips you over, his body now hovering above yours. The air crackles with electricity as he leans down, his lips inches away from yours. "You won't hear a word from me," he murmurs, his voice laced with urgency.

Your breath catches in your throat as his lips finally meet yours. It's a searing kiss, a collision of longing and pent-up desire. You lose yourself in the taste and texture of his lips, the way his hands explore your body with an almost desperate touch.

In between heated kisses, you manage to gasp out words of desire. "Warren," you whisper, your voice filled with longing. "What does this mean?"

His lips find their way to your ear, his voice husky with need. "No te preocupes hermosa," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin making you shiver. "Let me make you feel good."

Your lips meld with Warren's in a fiery embrace, tongues dancing with a wild hunger. His hands roam your exposed skin, igniting sparks of pleasure with every caress. Clothes fall away, discarded in a frenzy of desire as you both give in to the throes of passion.

His fingers trail along your curves, tracing the contours of your body with tantalizing precision. Each touch sets your senses ablaze, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. You gasp and moan, surrendering to the intoxicating sensations that consume you.

Lust-filled whispers escape your lips, mingling with his own breathless exclamations. Your bodies entwine in a dance of ecstasy, the rhythm building with each heated thrust. The room fills with the symphony of your moans and the rhythmic collision of your bodies.

Lost in the depths of desire, you give yourself over to the intense pleasure. The world around you fades into insignificance as you and Warren become lost in the pinnacle of physical connection. In each other's embrace, you find release, bodies trembling with shared bliss.

You remember every detail of that night, no one had ever made you feel so good and he knew it. By the way you called him, by the way your fingers gripped the sheets and your eyes rolled back, he knew he was making you reach distinct peaks of pleasure just as you were doing him. You enjoyed the night together until you saw the sun rise and light up your bodies.

"I think that's my cue." Rojas says after a while in which you were silent, he gets up from your bed putting on his clothes. "See you around." He winks at you and leaves your room.

You never expected things to get serious between you and Warren. It was always fueled by lust, a primal attraction that consumed you both. So, when he started avoiding you after that passionate night together, you weren't entirely surprised. But it still hurt.

He became distant, deliberately ignoring you in social settings, disappearing from conversations, and even leaving the room whenever you entered. You couldn't comprehend why he was acting this way. The months passed, and his behavior remained unchanged. Frustration and confusion settled within you, pushing you to give up on being friendly with him as well. If he wanted distance, you would give it to him.

You started playing the game of fights and teasing, matching his aloofness with your own brand of indifference. It became a battle of wills, each of you testing the limits of the other. Yet, deep down, beneath the facade of indifference, there was a part of you that still yearned for his attention, for the connection you once shared.

...

The rain was falling hard in front of your front door, you sat on the facade watching your brother carry his bags to Warren's van, your heart skipped beats to see him go. You can't hold back the tears, you would miss him so much but you knew if this was his dream then he should go.

"Oh come on kiddo, you promised me you wouldn't cry." Eddie says hugging you tight, and you let the tears fall. "Look, there's still time for you to come along." He whispers as he holds you close.

"I can't... You know I would love to." You break out of the hug, wiping your tears away and your eyes catch a glimpse of Warren in the driver's pack watching you. "Give me a second?"

Eddie nods and goes inside the house, looking for the rest of his things he left behind. You observe Warren and take courage to approach, he was smoking and when he noticed you, he offers you the cigarette. You take it and takes a long drag, handing to him again.

"You were leaving without saying goodbye?" You say blowing out the smoke, getting inside the van and sitting next to him. "That's rude."

Rojas closed his eyes and taked a deep breath, as if he's rethinking what to do. "What do you want?" He asks.

"Don't you get tired of being rude to me?" You laugh rolling your eyes. "Look, if the sex wasn't good you could have solved all this with a conversation."

Warren's eyes narrow, his frustration evident as he glares at you. "Are you really going there?" he snaps, his voice laced with irritation.

You cross your arms, a defiant smirk playing on your lips. "I was just wondering, after all I'm not the one avoiding someone after a night of mind-blowing sex," you retort, your tone dripping with sarcasm.

His jaw tightens, and he leans closer, his voice low and charged with intensity. "Don't act like you didn't enjoy every second of it," he growls, the words a challenge.

A fire ignites within you, your anger fueling your response. "Oh, trust me, Warren. I enjoyed it. But if you think that changes anything, you're delusional."

He inches even closer, his breath mingling with yours. "You're so fucking annoying, Y/N."

"That's not what you told me that day." You shrug, looking directly into his eyes, loving seeing the frustration of not knowing how to answer your words.

A surge of desire courses through you, mingling with the anger and frustration. The tension between you becomes palpable, a magnetic force drawing you closer together.

Without another word, you crash into each other, lips colliding in a clash of dominance and pent-up desire. The kiss is fierce, a battle of wills and conflicting emotions, as if every argument, every insult, is channeled into this single moment.

His hands grab your waist, pulling you closer, while yours clutch at his hair, deepening the connection. It's a dance of passion and aggression, the line between love and hate blurring with each desperate kiss.

The van fades away as you both give in to the overwhelming chemistry, succumbing to the undeniable pull that has been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. The unspoken tensions and desires find release in this fiery encounter.

But even in the midst of the fervor, a sense of vulnerability lingers. It's not just about the physical connection; it's a revelation of the unspoken emotions that have been brewing between you.

As the kiss finally breaks, you both gasp for air, your eyes locked, a mixture of confusion and yearning reflected in your gaze. The argument fades into the background, replaced by the intoxicating realization of what lies between you.

"So annoying, uh?" You whisper, your lips still close to his.

"Satisfied with the farewell?" He answers, looking right into your eyes.

"You owe me so much more Warren Rojas." He feels you gaze like an x-ray, noticing every corner of his soul. "And I'm going to make sure of charging that." You wink at him and he feels a shiver down his spine, you drove him crazy.

You get out of the van, closing the door and leaning against the window before entering your house. "See you around."

Warren watches you walk into the house, his hands go to his hair in frustration, he hated feeling so given over to someone. He didn't know how to act in your presence, all his most intense feelings were brought out when he saw you, he felt vulnerable, he needed you and that was new... What scared him.

The relief of leaving you behind came with the anguish of not having you around, it was like being away from something he sorely needed. He needed you, you were something difficult, something he didn't understand himself but living without was something scary.

…

During the years without you, Warren's world was not the same. The absence of your presence left an indescribable void that he struggled to fill. It was as if a piece of him was missing, an essential part that had once brought color and vibrancy to his life.

At first, he tried to bury his longing beneath a facade of indifference. He convinced himself that he could move on, that the connection he felt with you was nothing more than a fleeting spark. But deep down, he knew it was a lie. The memory of your laughter, your shared secrets, and the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about your dreams haunted him.

Warren tried to distract himself, diving headfirst into music, new projects, and relationships that held no real meaning. He sought solace in the chaotic whirlwind of the music scene, hoping to drown out the echoes of your absence. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't escape the lingering thoughts of you that lingered in the corners of his mind.

He missed the way you challenged him, the way your presence ignited a fire within him. The easy camaraderie and unspoken understanding you once shared felt like a distant memory. It pained him to think that he might never experience that level of connection again.

As time passed, Warren realized that he had been foolish to push you away. He saw the impact you had on his life, how your presence brought a sense of balance and completeness that he had taken for granted. He yearned for the moments you had shared, the laughter, the late-night conversations, and the raw vulnerability that had blossomed between you.

Warren couldn't help but wonder what might have been if he had been brave enough to face his feelings head-on. The regret weighed heavy on his heart, a constant reminder of the missed opportunities and the chance to explore a deeper connection with you. But now it was too late, and he decided to live for the moment, focus on the opportunities he had in life and make the most of it.

After the departure of your brother and the band, your life underwent a significant transformation. The absence of the constant chaos and rhythm of the music scene left a void that seemed impossible to fill. The once vibrant and lively energy surrounding you became a quiet and unfamiliar stillness.

Without the band's presence, you found yourself grappling with a sense of loneliness and uncertainty. The music that had always been the soundtrack of your life had become a distant echo, and you couldn't help but feel adrift in the vast sea of possibilities.

Eddie's departure hit you particularly hard. He had always been your anchor, your confidant, and your partner in crime. The realization that you would no longer share those precious moments together on stage, creating magic through music, was a blow to your spirit. It felt as if a vital part of your identity had been stripped away, leaving you feeling lost and disconnected.

But amidst the sadness and longing, you couldn't help but feel a lingering ache in your heart for Warren. His absence created a void that no other friendship or relationship could fill. You missed the banter, the late-night conversations, and the shared laughter that seemed to effortlessly flow between you.

Warren had always been a constant presence in your life, and his sudden disappearance left you wondering what had gone wrong. You questioned if your connection had been merely an illusion, a product of your shared experiences within the band. The silence between you was deafening, and the unanswered questions weighed heavily on your heart.

Yet, despite the absence and the unanswered longing, you found the strength to move forward. You discovered new passions, explored different paths, and began to build a life outside the realm of music. While the ache for what once was remained, you learned to adapt and find solace in the new chapters life had written for you.

But deep down, the flicker of hope remained. The memories of your shared moments, the laughter you had exchanged, and the unspoken connection that had always been there continued to linger in your thoughts. You couldn't help but wonder if fate had something more in store for you, if your paths would intersect once again and bring with it the opportunity for closure or perhaps even something more.

You were reluctant to accept your brother's invitation, the road had never been your place, even more so for a rock band tour. But the longing spoke louder and it was she who screamed when you made up your mind. However, at the same time, the nervousness of seeing everyone again was imminent, so many years had passed... You didn't know what to expect.

…

Eddie wouldn't sit still since you confirmed you would go with them, he would wake up with a smile on his face excited to see you again. But he wanted to surprise everyone so he just said he had a great news, and asked Camila and Billy to give up their house for a dinner he would organize.

As you arrived at Camila's house for the long-awaited dinner, a sense of anticipation and nervousness filled the air. The sound of laughter and familiar voices drifted from the backyard, where the band members had gathered. You could hear snippets of their conversations, like echoes from a distant past, and it sent a wave of emotions rushing through you.

The soft evening breeze rustled the leaves of nearby trees, adding a touch of serenity to the atmosphere. The scent of freshly cut grass and blooming flowers embraced you, a reminder of the familiar comforts of home. Your heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and apprehension as you approached the backyard, drawn by the magnetic pull of the band's presence.

Just as you stepped through the doorway into the backyard, you felt a reassuring hand on your back. It was your brother Eddie, silently conveying his support and the unspoken promise that everything would be alright. His touch eased the butterflies in your stomach, grounding you in the moment and reminding you of the unbreakable bond you shared.

The sight that greeted you was like stepping into a time capsule. The band members, older than your memories remembered but still vibrant with energy, gathered around a table filled with food and drinks. The setting was reminiscent of countless evenings spent together, where music and camaraderie intertwined seamlessly. Nostalgia washed over you as you took in the scene, a flood of memories crashing against the shores of your mind.

Warren, with his tousled hair and piercing eyes, caught your gaze from across the yard. There was a flicker of surprise and a hint of something deeper that passed between you in that fleeting moment. The years of separation had carved their marks, but the undeniable connection remained, like an invisible thread that bound your souls together.

You felt a mix of emotions rising within you—excitement, nervousness, and a longing to bridge the gap that time had created. It was as if the past and present converged in this moment, intertwining your lives once more. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what lay ahead, knowing that this reunion would be a turning point—a chance to rebuild what was lost and rediscover the magic that had always been there.

"Surprise!" Eddie exclaims showing you to the band, they all smile, eyes on you and you receive a lot of different reactions.

But like it or not your focus was only on his reaction. Warren watched you from head to toe, his heart felt like an animal desperate to get out of its cage, he felt his legs go weak at the sight of you again. He doesn't move unlike the rest of the group who stand up to greet you, while you receive the warm welcome hugs you don't notice Rojas getting up and heading inside. He needed to think.

You try to ignore the tightness in your chest that comes when you notice the drummer's absence, why did he have to be so fucking complicated? The pride you contained wouldn't let you go after him, so you stayed there talking to the rest, drinking and laughing.

Daisy watched the circle of friends from afar, after all, she didn't know you and didn't have any subject to share. She greeted you like the rest but decided not to interrupt the conversation, since she wouldn't know how to add to the subject, so she got up and went into the house in search of another bottle of wine to finish.

She leans on the counter looking for an opener for the bottle she found in the fridge, since it was the last one she thought of drinking hidden right there alone, she jumps in fright when she feels the presence of another person next to her, she turns to see the drummer smoking a cigarette while facing her.

"Lost something?" She asks, trying to hide the bottle behind her.

"I need it more than you do, believe me." Warren hands the opener to Jones who takes it in her hands. Waiting for him to continue, she opens it, pouring the liquid for both of them.

She takes a sip still silently, "Mind explaining? I will only share my wine if you have a decent reason."

Warren lets out a weak laugh, he takes a deep breath still afraid to access those intense feelings he had buried. "Eddie's sister, she's my fire." He downs his wine glass in one go, making Daisy startle. "She drives me crazy since the first fucking time I saw her, I just... I wasn't ready to face all this intensity that she brings out inside me. Not now, not ever."

Daisy laughs softly, she absorbs Rojas' words and strangely identifies. But maybe they were too high for that conversation. "So you're just going to avoid it, forever?"

"It's been working out so far." He shrugs, smiling as he refills his glass. "I'm not one to run away from things, quite the contrary, I love living everything. It's just that…"

She interrupts him, "It's so intense that it scares you, it's so strong... So strong that you feel like you're going to drown despite wanting to go with the wave." She completes, Warren is silent for a few seconds. "I suppose." She shrugs looking away.

"Well, your guess was strangely right." Warren sets his glass down on the table, taking a cigarette from his pocket and offers it to the redhead who declines, he takes one for himself. "And now Eddie has asked her to go on tour, I don't know if I can handle it."

"Is it that bad?" She asks but the drummer doesn't answer, she takes that as a yes. "Is she with anyone?"

"I don't know, I haven't known anything about her since we left Pittsburgh." He responds in a stiff manner. "But from what Eddie mentioned a few times, no."

Daisy frowns, as if hearing an insult "So what's the fucking problem?" She analyzed the features of his face, judging every line of expression.

"I don't know." He confesses, taking a long drag on his cigarette. "I don't know if I'm willing to risk that much."

…

Warren knew deep down that he couldn't just brush off the intense emotions you stirred within him. You had always been the one who could penetrate his guarded exterior, effortlessly reaching the depths of his soul. But he couldn't let that vulnerability show. No, he had to hide it behind a veil of nonchalance and aloofness.

When Eddie dropped the bombshell that you would be joining them on tour, Warren's heart skipped a beat. He felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. He wanted to convince himself that he was over you, that he had moved on, but the truth was that he had never quite shaken off the hold you had on him.

To shield himself from the intensity of his emotions, Warren chose a path of deliberate detachment. He decided to immerse himself in the company of groupies, surrounding himself with distraction and shallow encounters. He flirted, laughed, and engaged in casual hookups, all in an attempt to convince himself that he could replace the void you left.

But as Warren went through the motions of his charade, he couldn't escape the constant reminders of you. Every glance, every laugh, every touch sent a shockwave through his being. The presence of the groupies served as a mere distraction, a feeble attempt to drown out the longing he felt for you.

Deep down, Warren knew that no matter how hard he tried to deceive himself, he couldn't erase the memories and connection you had shared. Your absence had left an indelible mark on his heart, and no amount of casual encounters could fill the void you had left behind.

Unbeknownst to Warren, you were keenly aware of his attempts to mask his true feelings. You noticed the longing in his eyes, the way his voice faltered when you were near. It was clear to you that his actions were mere smoke and mirrors, a desperate camouflage for the overwhelming intensity you both shared.

As the tour progressed, Warren's facade began to crack. The shallow encounters with groupies started to lose their allure, as he yearned for something more meaningful and genuine. He realized that no one could ignite his soul quite like you did, that your connection transcended the superficiality of those fleeting encounters.

The more Warren tried to bury his feelings, the more they resurfaced with a vengeance. He found himself stealing glances at you, captivated by your presence and the way you effortlessly drew people in. It became increasingly apparent to him that he couldn't escape the magnetic pull you had on him, no matter how hard he tried.

…

As you stepped into the radio reception, you were greeted by a vibrant atmosphere that pulsed with anticipation. The room hummed with lively conversations and the clinking of glasses, filling the air with an energy that ignited your senses.

Your eyes wandered across the hall, taking in the sight of journalists and industry professionals engaging in animated discussions. Their enthusiastic gestures and focused expressions revealed their eagerness to capture the essence of the band's presence.

The room was adorned with banners and posters, proudly displaying the logos of various radio stations. It felt like a maze of bustling activity, with tables set up for different media outlets, adorned with notepads, microphones, and recording devices. It was a visual reminder of the journalists' dedication to documenting every word and capturing the essence of the band's journey.

As you weaved through the crowd, you noticed the cameras positioned strategically, ready to capture candid moments and performances that would be immortalized through the lens. The stage, bathed in soft lighting, beckoned you with its magnetic aura, whispering promises of transformative experiences yet to come.

The room seemed to vibrate with a blend of nerves and excitement. Your heart quickened as you realized the significance of this moment, the realization that your presence here was an integral part of the band's story. The weight of the interviews and interactions hung in the air, intermingling with the melodies that reverberated in your soul.

"Hey, are you waiting for someone?" You hear a voice behind you, turning around you find a man with a charismatic smile on his face. He sits next to you.

"My brother and his band are doing an interview." You clarify, smiling sympathetically.

"Daisy Jones and the six?" He asks, you just nod. "The guys have become a rage, you must be proud."

"Prouder than ever." You confirm, and since then you have a conversation.

As you mingled in the radio reception, you couldn't help but notice a persistent presence. Jay, an overly confident and invasive individual, had taken a keen interest in you. His attempts at flirtation grew increasingly uncomfortable, making you feel trapped and uneasy.

Amidst the sea of conversations and laughter, Warren's watchful eyes caught sight of the unfolding situation. His protective instincts surged within him, fueled by a mixture of anger and concern. With each passing moment, his frustration intensified, unable to bear witnessing Jay's unwanted advances towards you any longer.

Determined to shield you from further discomfort, Warren swiftly made his way towards the two of you. The atmosphere shifted as he closed the distance, his presence commanding attention and respect. Without hesitation, he inserted himself into the conversation, his posture exuding a possessive aura.

"Hey mi amor, everything alright here?" As Warren stepped in, a surge of relief washed over you. "Who's your friend?"

You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding, "Not exactly a friend, love... He just sat there."

"Listen cabrón, I'm not a fucking idiot." Rojas whispers menacingly. "I swear to God, if you keep harassing her... I'll break your balls."

The intensity of Warren's protective act left no doubt about his intentions. He positioned himself firmly between you and Jay, effectively creating a barrier of safety. With a subtle yet forceful push, he made it abundantly clear to the man that his presence was no longer welcome.

You watched as Warren effortlessly steered you away from the uncomfortable encounter, leading you to a quieter corner of the reception. His actions spoke volumes, conveying both his determination to shield you from harm and the depth of his unresolved feelings.

In the aftermath of the encounter, Warren's protective act lingered in the air. The tension between you was palpable, the unspoken connection between you both now illuminated by the weight of the situation. It was a moment that revealed the complex intertwining of emotions, the undeniable bond that had endured throughout the years.

You look him straight in the eyes, "Thanks, you didn't have to…"

"I didn't do more than my duty." He cuts you off, the look in your eyes made him feel right at home.

"I just didn't think you'd do that." You shrug, looking away.

"I knew it wasn't going to take long for this to come up." He exclaims with a forced laugh. "You can't have a dialogue with me without throwing something in my face. I honestly can't stand you."

"Of course, it's always my fault." You roll your eyes, feeling that intensity wash over you."Be more creative Rojas, you always use the same speech."

"I fucking hate you." He whispers, hand in his pocket while he takes a long breath. Looking away from you, it was impossible for him to lie like that to you looking you straight in the eyes.

"Ah so that's it, you hate me?" You approach him, he doesn't move away, he just looks away. "Say it to my face then! I'm here listening to you…" You whisper, getting closer to him. Carefully you take the drummer's face, making him look at you. "You can't, right?"

As the tension and emotions intensified between you and Warren, the air crackled with anticipation. In that charged moment, he couldn't resist the magnetic pull any longer. With a mixture of longing and determination, he closed the gap between you and captured your lips in a passionate kiss.

The world seemed to fade away as your bodies leaned into each other, lost in the intensity of the moment. The kiss was a blend of pent-up desire, years of unspoken words, and a connection that refused to be ignored. It was a collision of longing and vulnerability, a confirmation of the undeniable chemistry that had always existed between you.

The weight of the moment lingered in the air as you both broke apart, breathless and wide-eyed, realizing the depth of your unspoken desires. It was then that Warren, unable to deny the pull any longer, took your hand and led you through the place to a secluded warehouse, hidden from prying eyes.

Inside the dimly lit space, he locked the door behind you, creating a world where only the two of you existed. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as he pulled you closer, his touch a mixture of gentleness and hunger. The warehouse walls seemed to contain the intensity that had built up over the years, allowing you both to explore the depths of your desires.

In that sacred space, your bodies came together, exchanging passionate kisses, exploring each other with a newfound urgency. The world outside ceased to exist as you surrendered to the sensations, losing yourselves in a dance of pleasure and connection. Every touch, every sigh, and every whispered word spoke volumes about the longing that had consumed you both.

As the flames of desire burned bright, there was a profound realization that this was more than a momentary release. It was a testament to the unbreakable bond that held you together, a recognition that you couldn't deny the depths of your connection any longer.

"I hate you for how you make me feel, you understand now?" he holds your face tenderly, looking deep into the paradise of your eyes.

"You make me crazy." You say between the kiss, Rojas smiles resting his forehead on yours. "I can't ignore what I feel for you anymore, and if you tell me you don't feel that way... I think I'm crazy."

Rojas lets out a muffled laugh, kissing you once more. "You're not crazy, there's something between us that we can't ignore. And believe me, I tried."

You roll your eyes and pat his arm lightly. "You are the log that keeps my fire alive, and I need you." He says.

"You have me." You smile, kissing him again. "Just don't lose me again, I assure you it won't be that easy to get me back."

In that moment, you both understood that this connection was no longer something to be pushed aside or denied. It was a force that had been waiting to be unleashed, a love that had endured against all odds. From that point forward, you embarked on a journey together, bound by a love that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

...

Hi, I hope you enjoyed it... If you wanted to ask for something my requests are open, and if you want to ask and don't have any ideas check out my prompt list :) xoxo

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[venstm]

❛  i can't stop thinking about you even when i try.  ❜ / akechi for akira ehehe

Akira is aware of the guileful way that Akechi adapts to any situation handed to him with a great deal of finesse, not permitting the discerning gaze to linger too long lest it uncover apertures in his mask. It’s one of the reasons this exasperated declaration strikes a chord with him, no matter how it is disguised to be amicable, housed in the hollow amusement of his laughter, the fool recognizes it immediately. It was excruciatingly earnest, as if he were casting a supplicating gaze to that benevolent god and saying; I need this. The detective prince in that moment is a dichotomy between haunting honesty and a duplicitous facade of annoyance. Akira rests an impudent hand upon his shoulder, the smile he offers allows Akechi to glean momentary insight to the complexity that existed beyond that veneer of insouciance or tenacity.

❛ It’s relieving. ❜ his voice remains soft, as if the two of them were sharing a confession better kept clandestine. It wasn’t straying far from the truth, the two of them were, at their cores, enemies. It was peculiar then that Akira never saw him as such, if anything, the magnetism that Akechi held over him belonged more to this slither of truth than any preferable lie. ❛  To know that I take up residence in your mind, I wouldn’t want to feel that it wasn’t something that’s reciprocated.❜ and with such a profound confession, bereft of all that constituted him as a paradoxical creature, he withdrew his hand, his smile both mischievous and knowing. ❛ It would hurt my feelings otherwise. ❜  and like that they effortlessly stepped across a threshold and retraced their steps to the comfort of a familiar banter, like that detrimental honesty had never been there at all. 

[mx-lamour]

19 - Bath

[I've flown off script; we'll get back to "pale".]

“Come on!” Alek insisted. The air in the hall, flickering with warm yellow light from its fires, was loud and jovial. The assembled group gathered around one of the establishment’s long wooden tables. Alek held out a scrap of the exotic food, brandishing it gently at Strahd. “Try it.”

Strahd turned his face away, a look of irritation plain on it. Alek didn’t let up; the boistrous atmosphere had gotten the better of him. He prodded Strahd until his annoyance reached its boiling point. “Captain!” Strahd snapped, rounding on him with a forceful glare.

More of the table near to them stilled on hearing Strahd’s bark and turned their heads warily.

“Forgive me,” Alek said, sobering somewhat to his reproach. “I only meant to…” He paused when Strahd grasped his retreating wrist.

Strahd sighed, recomposing himself, and plucked the morsel from Alek’s fingers. “Why don’t you tell me how it tastes?” he said, bringing the food to Alek’s lips instead.

Alek glanced down at Strahd’s hands, then leveled him with a cool gaze. “Of course.”

He leaned forward and sensuously took the scrap of food into his mouth, lips closing around the tips of Strahd’s fingers. Strahd watched his jaw move as he masticated, and his throat bob when he swallowed. He felt suddenly parched.

Alek looked up at his own thoughts for a moment, wiping the corner of his mouth with a pensive finger. “It’s rich,” he said, and began to describe the texture and flavors of the dish to Strahd in earnest. While he did so, he slipped his wrist free of Strahd’s grasp and clapped his hand on Strahd’s shoulder, squeezing it amiably. He pushed his plate between them, pointing at it. “Go ahead. Try some.”

“You could be bluffing,” Strahd said, reaching for another piece. “It might taste foul.” He brought it to Alek’s amused lips.

“Would I do that to you?”

Alek ate from his hands. Their banter was ill disguised as the two men subconsciously shifted closer to each other. The others at the table were becoming thoroughly scandalized. Strahd might normally keep his feelings close to the vest, but Alek’s comparatively hedonistic inclinations were no secret and he did not bother to hide his casual seductions.

“I know you’re not much for desserts,” Alek crooned, “but at least have a bite of this.” He presented a small tart. Strahd considered it a moment, but Alek’s saliva cooling on his fingers and the heat pooling in his loins made him relinquish his restraint. He bit into the pastry, which somehow mimicked the soft give of tender flesh between his teeth. The flavor was just tantalizing enough to remind him of hunger, to make him aware that he did crave, and that his craving was not in the least satiated.

A soft moan escaped him. Alek's hand drifted down his back.

One of their number cleared their throat across the table. “Well! I think I’d better turn in. The road home won’t travel itself come morning.”

There was a bustle of people rising, then, to move toward their rooms or gather in smaller groups close to the fire. Waitresses were thanked and given a tip and a wink for their trouble.

“You will accompany me,” Strahd said, gathering his cloak surreptitiously over his arm as he rose.

Accompany them to the Ao3 Inn...

* * * [Ao3 Collection] [prompt list by @syrips]

[colormepurplex2]

Dream For Us | Plagued By Nightmares

↳  Hyung Line x f.Reader ⤜ Strangers/Lovers ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 5,981 ⚠️ Sexual banter/talk, alcohol consumption, angst, sleep paralysis, talk of nightmares

 Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to chapter list

"I need her," Hoseok murmurs to himself, absently dragging a finger through the oculus. The scrying pool ripples around his digit, distorting the scene playing out in it. It's some well-to-do, swanky bar with plush seats and twinkling fairy lights; but the main focus is the three 'friends' having a drink. He hates to think of them as friends, but that's how they've been labeled. He has peered through the pool enough times in the last few weeks to recognize the ebony-skinned fiend and the towering demon parading as a jockey ape that have attached themselves to the figure that holds his attention the most– the one that's utterly captivating to the point it's alarming for Hoseok– you. How and why those two rogue lechs latched themselves to you, he's yet to figure out.

"Ooo, is that the next one?" A bright, titillating voice asks from over his shoulder, ripping him from his thoughtful observations.

Hoseok glances back, eyes flicking over the figure behind him. The last thing he wants to deal with right now is Seokjin's over-eager bullshit. Annoyance pulls at the corners of his eyes but he forces his muscles to not flinch and give away the fact he'd rather bury his fist in Seokjin's perfect face than actually speak to him.

He turns, focusing back on the scene in the oculus. "Yes," he finally answers once he's sure his voice won't betray his inner turmoil. Not only does he wish to hit his own brother, but the fact you're now laughing at something the friend-disguised-fiend said on the oculus, stirs a green-tinged feeling deep in his belly. Jealousy is a bitter flavor on his tongue. It's one he hasn't tasted for a very, very long time. These desires should be beneath a being such as him. That's what The Rite was created for after all; to make the act of acquisition a transactional process and to remove all possible emotional conflicts. There is an order to these kinds of things, one he has no choice but to stick to.

He presses his lips into a thin line, willing the errant thoughts of familial violence and untoward bitterness away. The last thing he needs is one of his brothers picking up on his odd discomfort over the next oblation. It's not like there is anything inherently special about this one. You're merely human, not a speck of luster in your veins; he should just let one of his brothers have you. But, still, something tugs at him and makes him linger over the oculus just a moment longer, taking in the sensuous curve of your throat and the way you place a gentle hand on your demon friend's shoulder before he wills the image to disintegrate. It quickly fades away in a swirl of muddied colors until all that's left is the placid silver surface of the scrying device.

Seokjin steps up to the oculus, frowning down at the large pool. "Why'd you do that? I wanted to see more," he mutters, continuing to be oblivious to the way Hoseok is tensing beside him with barely restrained frustration.

"You'll get to see more soon enough. The Rite begins next week. We have plans to make. Call the others, we'll convene after we speak with Father." Hoseok waves a dismissive hand at Seokjin before turning and striding from the observatory and into the gloomy twilight space beyond. He disappears in a whirl of dust, not even waiting to hear if his brother offers a response.

                             ༻ஓ๑ ✧ ๑ஓ༺

Four shrouded figures gather around the gnarled stump of Ithid, the ancient soul-devouring tree that their father reaped when he formed the Kingdom of Dreams. Now, instead of unlit souls going through Ithid to the afterlife, they become a part of the Dreamscape where the God of Dreams uses them to further his Kingdom and power.

The ash-colored bark hums if anyone draws too close, remnants of the life force still clinging to the roots of the ancient gatekeeper. One false step is all it would take for Ithid to regain power. All it needs is a trickle, just enough essence to begin to thrive again. Which is why there is a permanent repulsion haze clinging to the withered remains of the once Guardian timbre. Anyone who gets closer, drawn in by the hum, succumbs to a crippling snare that will hold them in place until the God of Dreams comes to claim them.

There have only been a few unfortunate beings that have found themselves at the mercy of Morpheus in that way, weeping in the clutches of the spell. He will do anything within his power to keep Ithid from regaining the strength needed to resurrect. The Dreamscape relies on it remaining dormant. The four sons he sired were merely a means to an end, his own guardians created to help ensure that never happens.

"Hypnos sends his regards," the sudden, silken voice of the God of Dreams pierces the silence, drawing the attention of the gathered figures. Morpheus moves with grace, his black cloak floating out behind him like a gauzy shroud. "Finally, the time has come for our Kingdom to begin The Rite. Four of you means four oblations over four years, the first bestowed upon us soon. Have you decided who will receive first?"

Silence answers the God of Dreams. Finally, after a few more moments, one of the figures steps forward. "That has not been decided yet, Father. We were hoping to have more time to come to that conclusion."

Morpheus turns a curious eye on the speaker. "You all have known about this for centuries at this point. Have you not already had plenty of time for that? I expected more effort from my sons. Have I been too lax in my ways, allowing too much freedom in my realm?"

"We do as we're tasked. This is a decision we would rather not make lightly, as it does hold significant changes for the receivers," a second figure steps forward and offers.

Morpheus gives a derisive snort. "You have a week to make that decision, otherwise I'll be making it for you." With that, he coalesces into a swirl of golden sand that floats away with a sudden gust of stale, piny air.

"Well, that went well," another voice snarks.

"Shove it, Yoongi," the first figure, Namjoon, snaps. "Father is right, we should have made this decision long ago. We knew The Rite would be passed to our Kingdom after Hypnos'."

"Who do you propose, then?" Seokjin, the second figure, asks. He steps closer to Namjoon, letting the subtle glow from unseen lights highlight his features in stark relief. "Shall we draw straws?"

"I'll be the first," comes Namjoon's curt reply.

"Abso-fucking-lutely not."

Namjoon turns, taking in the last figure now stepping out of the gloom and into the light. "Hoseok, don't start. Going in order is the only way that truly makes sense and removes all responsibility of choice from our shoulders."

"No," Hoseok replies simply, drawing out the syllable in a monotone.

"Besides," Yoongi chips in, striding up alongside Hoseok, "if we went in order then Seokjin would go first, not you. Or have you been lulled away in the Dreamscape for so long that you've forgotten about our creation?"

Hoseok shakes his head. "Still not happening. I want her. I'm the one that was designated as the oculus sentinel. I'm the one that's been watching her, protecting her mind, so by rights, she should be mine."

"You're only the sentinel because the rest of us were busy actually doing our jobs." Seokjin crosses his arms over his chest, glaring at Hoseok.

The death glare that Hoseok turns on his brother would shrivel any mortal soul. Seokjin just scoffs and rolls his eyes. “You’d rather draw straws?” Hoseok mocks with his own eye roll.

“That was a joke, you jackass. Gods, act like you have some social skills. You’ve been hanging out with the quasi-deities far too much.”

Hoseok bares his teeth in a sneer, his white-blond hair ruffling across his forehead as he jerks his chin up. “Leave them out of this.” Seokjin may be his brother, but Hoseok doesn’t tolerate anyone bad-mouthing his friends like that.

Yoongi throws a hand in the air. “Shut up, the both of you. Father expects us to make this decision and you know if we don’t then he will take matters into his own hands. Now, we don’t want that, do we?”

Seokjin and Hoseok grumble in agreement, shifting their stances away from one another.

“Yoongi is right,” Namjoon says. “Instead of arguing over nonsensical bullshit, we need to come up with a solution to our problem. Preferably before Father steps in on our behalf.”

“What do you propose?” Hoseok asks, directing his question to Yoongi. “You’re the only one that hasn’t offered a suggestion or tried to stake a claim so far.”

Seokjin mutters under his breath about how his suggestion of drawing straws wasn’t truly a suggestion, but his irritated words go ignored. Yoongi glances around, eyes falling on the brittle bark of Ithid for a moment as he thinks.

Finally, he glances up, meeting the eyes of each of his brothers. “We let the oblation decide.”

Namjoon’s brow scrunches. “What? Do we just approach them and say ‘hey, I know this is weird, but you’re scheduled to die next week and one of us needs to claim your divine soul. Care to play eeny-meeny-miney-mo or maybe you can just spin around and blindly point?’ Not exactly a great idea there.”

Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. “If it were that easy, sure. But, no. I’m talking about taking the next week and we do what we do best. Infiltrate their dreams and give them a good dose of what we have to offer. Once they pass over and come into the Dreamscape, we can have them choose based on their experience. All souls have to go through a transition period before Father accepts them into the Kingdom anyway, that’s the perfect time to let them choose.” He shrugs like it’s a solid, genius plan.

“That’s kind of fucked up.” Hoseok chews his bottom lip. “But, so fucked up that I think I like it.”

“I don’t know,” Namjoon huffs. He shifts his weight, shoving one hand in the front pocket of his black pants and adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose with the other. As a Demi-God, the glasses are completely unnecessary, but Namjoon has picked up a few mortal quirks over the centuries. “Can we consider that truly fair? We need to set some ground rules.”

Yoongi nods but before he can offer anything further, Seokjin speaks up. “No sex. Absolutely no touching of the oblation at all.” He gives a pointed look to Namjoon, who is known to frequent the mortal realm the most; hence the acquired quirks. “We only reach out to them in their dreams.”

“That’s a given,” Yoongi raises an eyebrow and smirks, “knowing what The Rite involves, we should probably bar orgasms as a whole. That includes our own.” There is a collective groan from the others. “A necessary stipulation, but you all know as well as I do that’s the dangerous territory where an oblation is involved. Forming a bond with a mortal before their soul crosses over can be detrimental to our power and even our very existence.”

“Right,” Hoseok agrees. “No sex, no orgasms on either side, we only reach out through dreams. Anything else?”

They’re all quiet for a moment as they mull it over. Seokjin finally breaks the silence, “I’m okay with this if you all are, but who goes first?”

Hoseok slaps his brother on the back, a slow smile curving his lips, letting the gesture finish fizzling the hostility in the air between them. “We draw straws, of course.”

                             ༻ஓ๑ ✧ ๑ஓ༺

The balmy summer nighttime air feels good on your bare shoulders. You trail one of your index fingers through the condensation collecting at the bottom of your glass, the ice nearly melted away. Mel is going on about something, but you’ve long since tuned out the conversation between her and Gavin.

Your friends mean the world to you, even if you’ve only known them for a few years now. Melrose and Gavin are inseparable, they have been since the last foster home they shared together at seventeen. You know their story, all the highs and lows that make them who they are today. Not for the first time do you glance between the pair and think about what it would be like to have a connection like the one they share.

“Earth to Peach, are you listening to me?” Mel snaps her fingers in front of your face. The click of the colorful beads in her long braids adds to the pop from her digits. Dark eyebrows furrow over her chestnut eyes that frame either side of a straight nose with a buttoned tip. Her plump lips are pressed down into a frown, the electric purple lipstick coating them only amplifying the expression as it contrasts against her ebon complexion. 

You jerk back in your seat, your eyes locking onto hers. “What? Sorry, I was uh- just thinking about work,” you lie, picking up your drink to cover the guilt you know is plain on your face.

“Peachy, babe, don’t be like that. We’re your friends, you can be honest and tell Melrose to shut the fuck up if you don’t want to hear about Roy-the-roidhead for the hundredth time tonight,” Gavin offers with a knowing smile in your direction. His bright blue eyes catch the glimmering lights overhead, adding even more dazzle to how ridiculously handsome he is. His blond hair is immaculate as always, perfectly styled in a way that accentuates his smooth forehead and slim nose. He’s tall, broad in the shoulder but narrow in the waist; the body of someone who spends most of their free-time striving to be a real-life Adonis. It definitely shows.

You press your lips together before setting your glass down again. The watered-down rum and coke taste too sweet in your mouth. “You know how much I hate that name,” you murmur, ignoring the rest of his statement. They took to calling you Peach about a year ago. It started out innocent enough, the pair dotting over how sweet you are but over time it’s morphed into more salacious claims than anything.

Mel scoots her chair closer to yours and throws an arm over your shoulder. Her skin is warm against yours. “But you’re so sweet, Peach,” she winks and drags her teeth over her bottom lip. The purple lipstick holds true, a testament to the formula. Maybe you should ask her what brand it is, pick some up for yourself. You can’t help but smile, a soft laugh bubbling up your throat even as a blush colors your cheeks at her implication and your silly thoughts. “Now, as I was saying, Roy invited me…”

Just like that, the atmosphere shifts like you hadn’t been called out for ignoring the conversation. Though, you’re not sure if it’s for the better or not. Slowly, the words begin to turn into a buzz instead of the coherent rant from Melrose. You don’t mean to tune her out again, but your attention drifts and you find yourself back in your own thoughts. It’s a nice night to be out, at the beginning of the weekend, and the bar is full of life. The later it gets, the louder it will be in here and the more bodies that will fill the space. One more drink and you’re certain Gavin will ask you to dance. You hope he does, at least, as you could use the distraction from your own troubles.

Ever the reliable one, Gavin downs his next dirty martini and pushes back from the table. The squeak of the wooden chair legs against the linoleum flooring cuts Melrose off from her current tirade about Roy and his latest diet obsession. “Um, excuse you, Gav. Where the fuck do you think you’re going? I’m not finished with my story.”

Gavin gives her a saccharine smile and throws a ring-covered middle finger in her direction. “You’re boring me, Mel. I’m taking our friend here to go dance.” He turns to you, his eyebrows bouncing. “What do you say, Peach, ditch this snore fest and join me on the dance floor?”

You try to suppress the smile that tugs at your lips. “Sorry, Mel,” you offer, casting a quick glance her way. “Roy sounds great, though, I’m really happy for you,” you lie, yet again, considering you’ve no idea what Roy actually sounds like since you haven’t been paying attention to a word she’s said about him.

Before Melrose can respond, Gavin is grabbing you by the hand and tugging you up from your chair. You catch a menacing look ghosting over Melrose’s face before she schools it and rolls her eyes. “Whatever, assholes, Roy wanted to hang out tonight anyway. I’ll catch you both on Monday.”

“Sometimes I’d wish she’d just go hang out with her flavor of the week before spending a few hours with us and doing nothing but yapping about them,” Gavin says, leading you toward the crowded dance floor.

You’re not sure what to say in response to that. It’s not like you can blame Melrose. Guys are…well, guys. She gets bored and likes to keep life interesting. Which is more than you think you can say about your own love life. Your eyes flick over Gavin as he spins around and gives you a sly smile.

He tugs you close, slowly running his hands down your arms and letting them land on your hips. The song playing has a soft beat to it, not quite slow but not a quick thumping rhythm either. It’s perfect for the steady sway of your hips that Gavin sets, his hands helping you move with the music. His eyes slide closed and his chin tilts back, the smile still clinging to his lips. Lips that you’ve thought about kissing more than once. You don’t, though, because you can’t. It would be too awkward.

Gavin is your friend and you’re fairly certain he doesn’t see you in any sort of romantic light. He just really likes to dance and maybe you have a little crush that keeps you from ever saying no to him when he asks you to join him. His hands on your body, innocent as it may be, are an added bonus you file away for secret, personal enjoyment.

The jewel-toned halter top that Melrose talked you into wearing, gives Gavin access to more skin than you’d typically be putting on display. His hands travel from your hips and over your shoulders to play in the hair at the nape of your neck. Goosebumps pop up along your arms and down your spine. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip in an attempt to hide your grin.

You let yourself get lost in the moment, the freedom that dancing with Gavin brings you. The music changes, the next song is an instrumental remix of one of your favorites. “Fuck yeah, I love this song,” you gush, moving your hips at a faster pace.

“Be careful, Peach. You keep moving like that and I might want to take a bite.” The words out of Gavin’s mouth have your hips stuttering to a stop. You stare at him wide-eyed until he realizes you’ve stopped moving. His chin drops and he raises an eyebrow at you. “Don’t stop,” he teases and drops his hands back to your hips, giving them a squeeze. “Unless you want to.”

Your hips automatically start back up, as if they have a mind of their own. “You’re funny,” you mutter with a shake of your head.

Gavin leans in close, his body pressing closer to yours than it’s ever been. He’s so close you can feel the tug and rub of his clothes moving across yours, the rough braid of his jeans against your thinner ones. The close proximity has a surge of heat flaming into your cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” his voice is low, a husky whisper that tickles your ear. He chuckles when you let out a small, strangled sound instead of a response. “Oh, Peach, if you only knew,” he continues, pulling back and giving you a meaningful look.

Maybe it’s a testament to how truly desperate you are in the romantic department, but Gavin’s words stick with you. Even after you part ways outside the bar. He heads in one direction and you go in the other. Gavin and Melrose live next to each other, in quaint little townhouses that are on the other side of town.

You inherited your house from your grandparents. It’s cute in its own way, cozy and full of wonderful memories. The drive to your place is nearly double the drive to their places from your job. You all work at the same marketing firm that’s just a few blocks from the bar you’re walking away from.

It’s been hours since your last drink. Your aching feet can attest to at least four of them spent dancing with Gavin. He also practically drowned you with cup after cup of water in between songs. It’s tempting to call for an Uber, simply because exhaustion is starting to set in and the last thing you feel like doing is concentrating on the road for thirty minutes. But, you take a deep breath and slide behind the wheel anyway.

An hour later you’re pulling an oversized t-shirt on and climbing into bed. Despite the fatigue sitting heavy on your chest, you can’t bring yourself to close your eyes. There’s a reason you agreed to go out tonight even when you didn’t really want to. It’s the same reason you’ve been staying up until ridiculous hours in the morning all week while still managing to crawl into work on time. Caffeine has become a constant crutch that you cling to. The headaches and lethargy from lack of sleep can’t compare to what comes when you close your eyes; the nightmares that leave you sweaty and choking on the taste of fear.

Sleep paralysis is what the doctor called it. You prefer to think of it as your own personal demon. It’s been so long since you’ve had a peaceful night of sleep, one not plagued with thrashing and low whimpers that ultimately lead to your eyes staring at the ceiling and your body feeling like it’s at the bottom of the ocean. That’s what scares you the most, the pressure.

You slap a hand on your cheek a few times, willing the exhaustion to recede. It doesn’t. The thought of getting out of bed and fixing a cup of coffee drifts through but it slithers through your grasp as your eyes flutter shut. It’s impossible to resist the pull. A low, pained moan sounds in your throat as sleep washes in on a wave of utter darkness.

                             ༻ஓ๑ ✧ ๑ஓ༺

There aren’t many things that Hoseok enjoys more than entering someone’s dreams. It’s a seamless process, sliding into the gaps of consciousness. His brothers thought he was kidding when he suggested using Seokjin’s joke as a way to choose. They all grumbled a little when he pulled the longest straw, giving him the role of going first. Hoseok loves first impressions, they’re so impactful. Plus, he has a little surprise up his proverbial sleeve that he thinks you’ll never forget.

“Hey, Hoseok!” Speaking of, what’s that phrase, ‘speak of the devil and…’? Hoseok turns slowly from his observation of the oculus to the newcomer.

“Jimin, thanks for coming.” His eyes rove over the other being, taking in the slim cut of his suit. Always dressed to impress, he doesn’t disappoint. Jimin is perfect for what Hoseok has in mind.

Jimin sidles up beside Hoseok to gaze into the scrying pool. “The others won’t be far behind.” He gestures to the oculus, “That the one?”

Hoseok gives an affirming hum. “Like clockwork, the tall one will be asking her to dance soon. Then the fun begins.”

“Oh, good. We didn’t miss the party.” Two figures step out from one of the balconies, arms linked together. Jungkook and Taehyung look just as good as Jimin in their trim pants and button-downs.

“What Taehyung really means to say is it’s good to see you Hoseok and we’re looking forward to whatever it is you have for us to do,” Jungkook uses his elbow wrapped around the other man’s arm to bump him in the ribs.

Hoseok grins, feeling the anxiety quickly draining away just from being in their presence. Seokjin called them quasi-deities, and that may be technically correct, but they’re also his best friends and know him better than any of his brothers ever could even pretend to.

“It’s good to see you guys, too,” Hoseok agrees. “Shall we?” He turns back to the oculus, willing it to focus on you, out yet again with the two creatures he’s come to loathe.

Jungkook and Taehyung crowd in between Jimin and Hoseok. “Who’re the creeps?”

Hoseok’s lip curls in disgust. “Some sort of dream fiends. I haven’t been able to figure out where they came from or what their intentions are. None of my brothers know them and if I ask Father, he’d only give me some backward response that really isn’t a response. So, I can only assume they came from him or maybe remnants from Hypnos’ temper tantrum a few centuries ago.” He shrugs, but the fact he can’t pinpoint your two friends really bothers him. He needs first-hand information.

“Should we take care of them while we’re at it?” Jungkook asks. ���Low-tier dreams like that are easy enough to dissolve.”

It’s a good thought, something Hoseok already has considered. “Get a feel for them, if you think they pose a potential threat then take them out. Otherwise, let’s just stick to the plan.” He continues, explaining in detail exactly what he wants from his three friends.

The three quasi-deities laugh. A sound that Hoseok plans to use to his advantage. You have no idea what he has in mind for you tonight. After he watched you toss and turn every night this week and crawl out of bed with tears in your eyes this morning, you deserve a little fun- and he’s the one that intends to deliver it.

                            ༻ஓ๑ ✧ ๑ஓ༺

Like a rinse and repeat cycle, you’re back at The Well House with Melrose and Gavin. It’s a Saturday night and you’re certain you’d rather be at home in bed right now. But, last night was an especially brutal one. All week has been one tortuous night after another. The nightmarish episodes seem to only be getting worse. You almost didn’t bother with functioning today because it physically hurt to drag yourself out of bed. The nightmares felt so real, the darkness that caressed your mind like a tangible thing.

“You look tired, Peach,” Melrose frowns, tilting her head to the side as she scans your face.

You grimace. “Uh, yeah, I didn't sleep great last night.”

“Maybe what you need is to wear yourself out, that always helps me sleep like a baby,” Gavin offers. You know exactly the kind of wearing out he’s thinking about. He’s almost finished with his third drink of the night meaning it’s nearly time to hit the dance floor.

As tempting as it is to lose yourself in dancing with Gavin tonight, you’re simply not sure if you can physically do that. The weight of your eyelids alone could keep you rooted to this chair for the next week if you’d let it.

“Not sure I can even stand at this point,” you mumble, knocking back a large gulp of your drink. “I probably should just call an Uber and head home, honestly.”

Melrose throws herself back in her chair, an arm dramatically draped over her eyes. “No! You can’t leave. The night is still young, come on, promise you won’t leave me with this asshole.” The arm over her eyes flings out toward Gavin who just barks a laugh, shaking his head.

“How about this, you give me one dance and if you’re still feeling like this then I’ll order you an Uber myself?” Gavin steeples his hands together in front of his chest, lips turned down in an exaggerated frown. “Please, Peach.”

You glance at Melrose who now has her arms crossed over her chest and is glaring at Gavin. She catches your eyes, her demeanor instantly changing and she gives you a smile and nods that it’s okay. “One dance,” you say, looking toward Gavin, “then you call me an Uber.”

“If that’s what you still want, then, yes.”

Melrose doesn’t usually dance. But, tonight she follows you and Gavin to the crowded expanse of polished wood that serves as a dance floor. It’s not too late into the night, so the crowd isn’t nearly as pressing as it normally is when you’re dancing with Gavin. Even so, he pulls you in close, as close as he was the other night. The music is slow, grinding with a thumping bass beat. Melrose melts into the crowd until you lose sight of her completely.

Dancing becomes mindless, just a blur of movement and the increasing beat of your heart. The song ends but you don’t stop dancing as it bleeds into the next one. Gavin’s hands migrate along your body. They trail over your arms, hips, and shoulders, offering touches that do nothing to quell the sizzle of attraction you have for him. Your exhaustion wanes with every passing beat and sway of your hips.

A throaty laugh breaks through your mental fog and draws your attention. Three men dance together to your left, their bodies meshed together so thoroughly you can’t tell where one ends and the others begin. They’re all devilishly handsome, maybe even more than Gavin which you would have once thought was impossible.

Gavin is pressed against your back, hands gripping your hips. You can feel his warm breath gusting over your ear and down your neck as he crowds in closer. The air feels thicker, charged with static energy. The dancing trio is suddenly right in front of you. You tell yourself they’re just moving with the crowd, that their shift couldn’t possibly have been deliberate; until one of them looks you in the eye and winks.

“Hi, pretty lady,” his charming voice carries to you over the thrumming bass beat. The gorgeous man might as well have spoken a spell because you’re suddenly enchanted. The two men moving along with him to the music give you heated smiles, the ones you only read about in romance novels.

Gavin’s hands on your hips tighten a fraction, bringing your attention back to your friend still dancing at your back. “Eyes on me, Peach,” Gavin sing-songs as his strong hands guide you around until you’re facing him. He pulls you close, fitting your smaller frame against his towering one. Warmth bleeds through the silk of your blouse where his large palms now rest on your lower back. You barely register the occasional flick of Gavin’s icy eyes over your shoulder until you feel a larger warmth against your back.

“Easy, friend, we just want to dance,” the same charming voice from before is so close you jerk in Gavin’s arms. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Gavin’s jaw ticks, his lips pressing into a harsh line that mirrors the one now creased between his blond brows. “Of course not,” he grinds out between clenched teeth. His eyes peer down into yours, the icy chips now full of storm clouds. “I’m going to go grab a drink, Peach, I’ll be right back.”

Before you’re able to formulate a response, Gavin is peeling himself away and disappearing through the throng of dancers. “There, that’s much better,” one of the other men chuckles. He sidesteps until he’s taking up the vacant spot Gavin just left. “Hi,” he waggles an eyebrow at you, “you’re an excellent dancer.”

The self-deprecating snort that works its way out of your throat has heat flaring through your cheeks. “Uh, thanks, I guess.”

“How adorable, she lights up like a Christmas tree when she’s embarrassed,” the third man sniggers, mischief twinkling in his dark eyes when he moves in closer to your side. All three of them press in closer, their bodies moving in time with yours.

This wouldn’t be the first time you’ve gained new dance partners while out with Melrose and Gavin, but it is the first time Gavin has left you on the dance floor like this. Maybe it should be alarming, being alone with three complete strangers, but there is something about them that feels comforting.

Gavin and Melrose both appear out of nowhere, Gavin’s large hands gripping your arms and trying to tug you from the middle of the three men. “Let’s go, Peach.”

The man at your back snags Gavin’s hands and tosses them away. “Don’t put your hands on her like that. You may be her friend,” he snarls, twisting the word with disgust like it will hurt more that way, “but right now you’re being more of a nightmare than anything else.”

Gavin bares his own teeth but his eyes narrow the slightest bit and Melrose scowls. “You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into,” she offers in a tone that’s alarmingly caustic.

The man pressed to your front slowly steps away and moves into Gavin’s personal space. He leans in and whispers directly into Gavin’s ear. Your friend blanches, jerking back away from the man. Melrose steps up like she’s about to confront the man but Gavin shakes his head and pushes her behind him and out of sight. The hostility slowly dissipates from the air, draining away until you feel like you can breathe again, not realizing you had been holding your breath. Gavin turns his eyes on you. “Have a good night, Peach, we’ll see you…um, when we see you.”

His odd farewell has a weird feeling settling in your belly. Suddenly, you’re not so sure you should be dancing with these guys, considering they just ran your friends off somehow. Sure, you don’t like the way Gavin grabbed your arm, but he’s still your friend and you don’t even know these guys.

“Er, I should probably go,” you begin to try and untangle yourself from the other two men.

The man that got in Gavin’s face turns and shakes his head at you, a slow smile pulling at his plump lips. “Nonsense, we’re just getting started. I’m Jimin, and this is Jungkook,” he gestures to the man at your back, “and this is Taehyung.” Jimin places a hand on the man at your side’s shoulder.

They’re so close you can really see their features. Strong jaws, masculine builds, and perfectly styled hair above dark chocolate eyes that seem to peer right into your soul– these men are what dreams are made of.

“Let’s keep dancing,” Jungkook nudges your ass with his hips. “You look like you could use the stress reliever.”

He’s not wrong. You laugh ruefully as you let them guide you back into a sensual rhythm. Slowly, the tension from the confrontation with your friends begins to bleed away, replaced with a calming sort of lull that’s filled with music and the weighty press of their bodies against yours.

You lose track of hands, feeling strong fingers grip or caress over various parts of your form. You think it’s Jimin maybe, or could be Taehyung, who first presses lips to your neck. The sensation sends tingles down your spine and has your eyes fluttering shut. “You’re beautiful when you let go. I’m so jealous,” Jungkook murmurs in your ear. He presses in close to your front, hands secured to your waist. 

“Hmm?” you try to open your eyes but your lids are so heavy. You want to ask Jungkook what he means about being jealous. The words won’t form. All you can do is lick your lips and rub them together. Your mouth feels sticky, sweet in a way, like you just ate a bit of honey.

“Just keep dancing, pretty lady, we got you.” The words barely register before numbing darkness sweeps in and you’re floating in the one place you’ve been trying to avoid– your dreams.

Next Chapter⇾ ◅ Back to chapter list

◅ Master List ©️   2022-11-24   ColorMePurplex2

[bumblebeesdoorwings]

ok ok ask game time

if you want Bee you can write for him too

im most curious about Starscream, Megatron and Optimus and maybe Jazz! choose which ones you'll like talking about, im just brainstorming myself

Ooooh all good picks!! Thank you, friend! :D

I love talking about TF so so much!! Although this made me realize I have to start reading Robots in Disguise AKA the other side of IDW.

Starscream:

one aspect about them i love: He's a menace, he's got trauma, he's wild and obsessive, he's fuckin SMART, he's the whole package! But on top of it all, he's a sad, lonely, poor little meow meow who in the end is really trying to do good by his Planet. I will fight on this.

one aspect i wish more people understood about them: He's legit smart. He's a scientist. He's got that curiosity and skill. He's not the 2nd in Command and Seeker Commander for nothing. He also knows EXACTLY what to say to get someone to do what he wants them to. He's good at words.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character: He.. does care about his trine and fellow seekers.. They're not just canon fodder. Especially his trine. He's that bitchy friend that will may bitch about you occasionally but will pull the fuck up when you need him.

one character i love seeing them interact with: Bumblebee. Absolutely LOVE the duo they make. The banter, the ''i can make him better/worse'' vibes, enemies to friends? Beautiful.

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more: Again, Bee. I got it once and I want more. I crave it like I crave candy.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character: He has read all of Thundercracker's writing and has a datapad full of them that he keeps. He's too proud to admit it, but will slip up and mention something from them to TC who is mind blown but excited to talk about it all. He also does get wrapped into prank wars with Skywarp, whether out of annoyance, anger or just camaraderie, no one knows.

Megatron:

Okay, listen, I'm probably the only one in the fandom that thinks this, but I don't like Megatron much. G1 Megatron is the only likable one. Now don't come at me saying ''OH but BBDW!! What about Earthspark Megs?!" Yeah, yeah, yeah, I was excited for him because I love that actor, but I saw too much about him and it squashed it. He gets one more chance, thats it. I saw that goddamn field of blue in MTMTE and that was it. Nail in his coffin for me. Don't come at me, I'm full of unpopular opinions I won't change my mind on. But ya'll enjoy your war criminal and remember to have fun with it.

Optimus:

(I am only in the first season of G1 and have barely read enough IDW comics with him in it, so this is really a combo of G1 and Earthspark!)

one aspect about them i love: He's a dad. He's fully a dad. Caring, hopeful, optimistic, lifting. God he's such a dad! The way he can keep the Autobot's heads up and strong? Love it, appreciate it.

one aspect i wish more people understood about them: I think we all understand Mr. Optimus fine. I do wish IDW understood the memo on Dad-timus Prime though.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character: Still forever trying to get his kids to get along. Forever trying to teach Rodimus how to be a Prime. He may not understand the new kid slang, but he does understand their feelings and rowdiness. He will indulge them.

one character i love seeing them interact with: Anyone, everyone.. All of them. Is that an answer?

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more: I wanna see him interacting more with the Terrans in Earthspark! Let the Dad-timus come through!!!

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character: G1 Optimus takes the younger bots out for fun all the time. Listen I just.. He's a giant dad, okay? That's my FATHER, your honor.

Jazz:

Okay another one I don't know too too much about..

one aspect about them i love: Jazz is so cool! He loves culture, he love music, he loves sharing that with Earth! He really sees the best in everyone too, but don't let it fool you, he's still Special Ops.

one aspect i wish more people understood about them: I don't know much about him or understand much about him, what would ya'll want ME to understand? He seems ever evolving!

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character: Silly guy, goofy guy, but definitely the one you go to for deep conversations late at night or around a campfire. He's like the cool Uncle that takes you to fun concerts when your parents say no.

one character i love seeing them interact with: This is really general because I'm drawing a blank but seeing the Special Ops vs the Wreckers stuff is really interesting to me. Jazz vs Kup in All Hail Megatron? Interesting. Tell me more.

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more: I look forward to seeing other interactions he has in canon! I'm not very far in G1 or the comics, soooooooooo.. I'm excited. I really like Jazz!

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character: Aaaahhh I don't know, sorry. :'(

[minkydinks]

I will say upfront that while I'm gonna argue my piece about Deathbringer here, it should be said that I'm not here to shit-sling or convince anon that they're wrong. You are entitled to your feelings about DB and I'm not going to sit here and say that you're evil or anything for not liking him. Nobody is invalid for thinking he's shitty.

Although I think a point should be made that literacy is very important and I think anon missed a key part of Glory & DB's relationship from start to end. So,

In defense of Deathbringer:

The thing with DB is that he's sort of almost the WoF fandom's Judy Hopps & Nick Wilde. He's a sly fox trying to survive and she's a person trying desperately to prove to the whole world that she's capable of, and worth more, than they think she is.

The issue with them, is that a LOT of their dynamic is heavily implied and not directly spoken in narration or dialogue. It's implied incredibly early-on in their meeting that Glory finds him attractive in some form, and this feeling is mutual between them; whether Glory appears as a RainWing or not, being disguised as an IceWing. Their banter isn't genuine animosity, and this is obvious to most people who understand their character archetypes. Glory is just as cunning as DB, if not more so. She is more than capable of accurately determining whether or not another dragon is a genuine threat to herself or her friends & family, and she had been on the fence when she realized that his original order from the queen was to kill her and a handful of the other dragonets.

She would have been perfectly content to file him away under "dragons that are undoubtedly going to ruthlessly chase down and attempt to kill us", but Glory in all her intelligence and curiosity watched and waited to see what he would do, and saw that he really didn't care for doing that.

I believe that while he ultimately contributed to the attempted genocide of the RainWings, he himself admitted that he was never one for the idea, and thought the NightWings could have placed their limited energy into much more valuable things. As soon as he felt confident & free in doing so, he helped Glory whilst barely knowing her as a person, freeing her and helping her free other RainWings. To the NightWing kingdom, that kind of treason comes with a hefty price if caught, and he still put his life on the line for a cause he thought made more sense to him. We have to also understand that the dragon world is much different than ours, and we would react differently than our soapbox morals would want, if we were in that situation ourselves.

DB says himself, speaking to Flame in the NW dungeon, that to be a successful assassin, you have to be able to kill dragons and not care, and that involves doing it for what you believe is an incredibly good reason. You have to believe in that reason 100%, or you'll care about the dragon whose life you planned on taking, and then you won't be capable of going through with it. Deathbringer finding every excuse to get around killing any of the dragonets is proof that he did NOT believe in the cause the NightWings had put upon him.

Glory is more than capable of dictating her personal space. She has full control over her bubble, and who's allowed in it or not. That's been noted several times throughout the series since the very beginning. The fact that DB is still alive & allowed to enter that bubble consequence-free, is implication enough that she doesn't actually feel like her boundaries are being crossed.

It speaks volumes especially because even the dragons she grew up with under the mountain, whom she loves very much, are not tolerated in her personal space for very long. DB understands personal space, implied by him clearly not invading the personal space of anyone else. His "invading" Glory's space is purely out of mutual enjoyment for each other's company, and if she really didn't want him there, he wouldn't be. Her mock-annoyance is just that; playful and unserious knockdowns that DB himself enjoys just as much as she does. He doesn't infantilize her, quite literally the polar opposite. He treats her like the royalty she is, revering her actions and words; but he treats her the way he's accustomed to treating royalty. Protecting and serving, offering council, and looking out for her when he thinks she might make a decision against her best interests (which is something Glory is KNOWN for doing, and something that she knows she needs to work on).

It never helps that these types of dynamics aren't explicitly written, because these are things that the average reader (especially young readers) will miss. A lot of readers will look at Glory and DB's relationship and think it came out of nowhere, and that Glory is out of her mind for not killing him for the way he treats her. But all of that is missing the whole... everything. There's an unbelievable amount of subtext to their interactions, which is heavily eluded to in the narration (and for some reason a lot in Sunny's internal dialogue during book 5?), but more than that, there's SO much subtext to the entire series. It's easy to miss a lot. I've read the series so many times over, it's almost second nature to think of the subtext, but I can see why readers who may have only read the books once before moving on to fandom content might not fully register all of it.

More than anything I wish people would realize that these character archetypes are real. There are real people in real relationships similar to this, and they aren't abusive just because you don't think you could be in the same position and be happy; we all have different needs. They're fine. Not everything has to be super uncomplicated. Its okay for relationship dynamics to be a little unexpected and a tad bit hard to understand for some people. That's just how life is sometimes.

Sorry for going on for fucking EVER but I don't see this talked about with much nuance very often. Again, not trying to press OP anon to change their mind, they're fine and I'm not trying to start any fights. I appreciate the prompt honestly! Fun to talk about

Deathbringer is an annoying piece of dragon dung who CONSTANTLY infantilizes Glory and doesn’t seem to grasp the concept of personal space. At all. He thinks he’s charming and magnificent but really he’s just another crappy NightWing who supported genocide against RainWings and him falling in love with one doesn’t make him get off the line scot-free. I want Glory to just venom spit his face one day.

.

[dixonlvr-online]

I'm on your side

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of injury, swear words

Genre: Fluff disguised as annoyed banter

“Would ya stop yer fussin’? Ain’t gonna help ya if ya can’t stop moving so damn much,” Daryl complained, struggling to hold your leg down with one hand, struggling to bandage your ankle with the other. You groaned in annoyance, from his words and from the pain shooting up your leg.

“Hurry up then! I don’t see how a bandage is gonna help my broken ankle anyway,” you threw at him, watching him shoot you a glare. 

“It ain’t broken! Yer just bein’ dramatic,” he grumbled. You shut up while he continued to wrap your ankle. Occasionally you’d let out a whine and a little kick just to mess with him. Finally, he was done. You watched Daryl jump away from you like you were on fire.

“We’ll move on tomorrow, if ya can handle it,” he sneered, turning his back on you to reach for his poncho. You rolled your eyes.

“I can handle it just fine, for your information. Stop treating me like a little kid. It’s not even my fault we’re here,” you said. Watching his shoulders tense brought you a little bit of pleasure, awaiting an angry outburst. Something about the man was so interesting when he was riled up, you couldn’t help but poke the bear.

“It is yer damn fault, actually. If you’d just listened to me-”

“I wasn’t going to stay in the car, Daryl! Why the hell would I stay and let you-”

“Let me? Nah, you don’t let me do nothin’, girl. Yer lucky I let you go on this run in the first place!”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. Daryl threw his arms in the air, exasperated by the argument.

“I’m goin’ out to find food,” he said, reaching for his crossbow. “Don’t get in trouble while I’m gone.” You shook your head, adjusting yourself to stand from the bed. 

“I can go with you! I’m fine, seriously, just let me-” As soon as you put weight on your foot, the room faded into shadows. Your vision spotted in front of you as white hot heat shot up your leg. You felt the ground rushing closer before two hands grabbed you.

Daryl slowly lowered you to the bed, careful when lifting your ankle so you could lay down. You gasped through the pain, focusing on his gentle movements. When you were settled, he sighed, looking down at you.

“I know I’m an ass, but I’m on yer side. Yer injured, plain and simple. Let me help you,” he said. You studied his expression, looking for any sign of sarcasm, but found only truth.

“Okay,” you nodded. Daryl turned back to the door, grabbing his crossbow to head out, before you called to him.

“Daryl!” He looked back at you. “I’m on your side too. You know that, right?” you said. He smiled quickly, but you caught it.

“Yeah, I know. See ya in a bit,” he said, walking outside. The pain in your ankle was forgotten, the image of his smile imprinted on your brain.

[cambion-companion]

Request for an angsty one shot with Aemond and an OC or anyone.. 😄😇 I can't help it I love torturing my already tortured little war criminal 😫😈🖤🩸

You ask and I shall give! This one was hard to write my goodness. But let's be real, Aemond is his own worst enemy.

Aemond x f!reader | angst | A Strong toast | Aemond gets a little physically agressive | Reader gets a glimpse of his darker nature

You often walked with Aemond outside the high walls and fetid stench of King’s Landing.  On this clear summer’s day the two of you, brushing shoulders, left through the city gate and you breathed in a deep lungful of fresh air.

“You exaggerate how bad it is, Y/N.”  Aemond teased, looking sidelong at you with his one violet eye.  

“The reek is awful!  Your nose must be broken.”  You were always glad to escape the confines of the Red Keep, especially so when Aemond was able to join you.  

More often than not, he was too busy to accompany your frequent escapades.  The first time you’d asked him to come along he had looked at you quizzically, eye roaming your form. “You look like a boy.” Was all he had said to which you answered dully. “Yes, Aemond, that’s rather the point.”

It was dangerous for a woman to roam the streets alone, so you took to disguising yourself as best you could to avoid unwanted attention.  Aemond did much the same, wearing a hood to cover his long silver hair.  

The two of you had known each other since you’d come to King’s Landing from the North, to be his sister’s lady in waiting.  You were older than he by a few years, and through the course of your unexpected friendship, often used your seniority against him, teasing that you were wiser and smarter…much to his obvious annoyance.  

Aemond’s moods reminded you of the sea, tempestuous and hard to predict.  You could tell he made an effort to be as kind as he could be to his mother, sister and even yourself but when Rhaenyra and her children visited King’s Landing, he became downright unpleasant.  

That is why you were surprised when Aemond had caught up with you just outside the Red Keep, as you made your way in the direction of Flea Bottom.

“Think you could escape without me?”  He panted, catching your elbow.

“Your family just arrived, Aemond.  I expected you to be…busy.” You had wanted to say “brooding” but decided not to push your luck.

He made a disgruntled “hmm” noise in the back of his throat. “They are no family of mine.”

You had wisely kept your mouth shut as you continued down the street and out of the city.  

The two of you spoke only a little, not like your usual banter, you could tell Aemond’s mind was elsewhere.  Before long, it was time to turn away from the green hills and trees and back toward the city.  There was to be a private dinner tonight for Aemond and his family, and the sun was already beginning its western descent.

You were not invited, of course, so once back inside the fortress you turned to make your way to the kitchens you liked to snag food from.  Aemond caught your arm as you brushed past him. “I wish for you to accompany me.”

Startled, you looked up into his face, his expression, stony, gave nothing away. “It’s a family dinner, I am certainly not invited.”

“I just extended to you an invitation, though it is less a request and more of a command from your prince.  You will be part of my family soon, if I have any say in the matter.  Now go get dressed. I will meet you outside your rooms.”

Head reeling with the implications of what he’d just said, you nodded numbly and proceeded to your chambers.  Deciding on a gown of green to hopefully appease the Queen at your unexpected presence, you quickly got dressed, brushed through your hair, dabbed some rouge on your lips and cheeks, before exiting your room.  

Aemond was indeed waiting for you, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, clad in a black leather jerkin and dark green trousers.  His usual brown eyepatch, you noticed, had been swapped for a black one, and his straight silver hair gleamed in the torchlight.  “You look radiant.”  He extended an arm to you, which you took gratefully.

“Tell me the real reason you wish me to come with you, I will be out of place there.”  Your fingers gripped the slippery fabric of his sleeve.

“Not as out of place as some.” Aemond growled through his teeth.  

He led you into the intimate dining room reserved for the family of the king. Queen Alicent and Rhaenyra already sat at the table, stiffly avoiding each other’s eyes.  Rhaenyra’s children and their betrothed were standing on one end of the table while Otto, Helaena and Aegon were standing together at the other.  Helaena was busy showing Otto something with evident delight, but Aegon marked your entrance with interest.  

Alicent also noticed your arrival on the arm of her son and stood to greet you, a confused half-smile on her lips.  “Lady Y/N, it is a pleasure to see you.  This is a family gathering, I’m afraid.  Aemond?”

“She is my guest for tonight, mother.” Aemond released your arm as you curtsied to the queen, making his way over to Aegon. “I wish for her to be here.”

Alicent’s eyes flicked from you to Aemond before she gave a sigh, “So be it. Y/N, please be welcome.”

She gestured to the table, retaking her own seat and sharing a look with Rhaenyra. You walked to be closer to Aemond, hovering uncertainly as a servant brought up an extra chair.  He was engaged in conversation with his brother at the end of the table, long fingers jabbing at the wood of the table, his voice low.  “What were you thinking?  You have a duty to your house, to Helaena.”  You had never heard such venom in his voice before.

Aegon was quick to defend himself, his answering whisper sounding aggrieved. “I got her a present from Dorne to make it up to her.”

“That’s not good enough.” Aemond hissed, but any further argument was interrupted with the arrival of the king.  

The decrepit man didn’t even seem to take any notice of your presence, for which you were grateful as everyone took their seats around the long table.

Helaena, turning to take her seat to your right at last saw you and made a happy little noise. “Y/N!  I am so happy you’re here!”  She squeezed a hug around your shoulders. “Aemond won’t stop talking about you, so I’m not all too surprised.” She leaned toward you conspiratorially, lowering her voice. “I hope this is one of many family dinners you join us for.”

“Sister.” Aemond’s said sharply, tapping his fingers on the table. Helaena gave him a sweet smile and shrug of her shoulders before returning attention to her plate.

His eye flicked to your face before returning to stare at his nephews.  The look he was giving them unnerved you, and by the uneasy shifting in their seats, you weren’t the only one.

A round of toasts were made, beginning with Rhaenyra toasting her once-friend Alicent.  The atmosphere at the table was uneasy, made even more so when Aegon leaned over to whisper crude things in his nephew’s ear.  The dark-haired boy, Jacaerys you remembered, slammed his fists on the table and stood, clearly enraged by what Aegon had said.  To your left, Aemond rose silently from his place at the table’s end, looking with menace at the younger boy as though daring him to continue.  Jacaerys had the good sense to make a toast of his own, trying to diffuse the tension and retook his seat. Aemond slowly sank back into his own, never taking his eye off the boy.

You knew the reason for his behavior, his hostility.  Aemond had told you about that night, shortly after he claimed Vhagar and the following events that led to his eye being cut out.

Trying, in your own way to soften his mood, you reached out under the table and touched the hand that lay on his knee.  He jerked it away from you abruptly, causing a splinter of pain to pierce your heart.  Aemond only glanced at you a moment, his expression cold.

You felt a small hand rub circles into your back and leaned into Helaena’s comforting touch.  You were careful from then on to pay close attention to your food, fighting the dejection creeping into your chest.  Beautiful music began to play from the musicians positioned in the corner of the dining room, Jacaerys asked Helaena for a dance. You half-hoped Aemond would ask you to dance as well, but you knew it to be a foolish thought.  You felt much like a pawn in a game of chess as you stirred the food on your plate listlessly, it was not something you had ever thought he would make you feel.

Another slam on the oak table made you jump as Aemond rose from his seat yet again, taking his full goblet in hand and raising it to the room.

“Final tribute.” He said evenly looking from one nephew to the other. “To the health of my nephews.  Jace…Luc…and Joffrey.  Each of them handsome, wise…” He paused a moment, choosing his next words with care. “Strong.”

“Aemond.” Alicent chided sharply.

“Come!” Aemond continued with a small smirk on his lips. “Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys!”

You mirrored Alicent and put your head in your hands.  You didn’t need to see the ensuing fight, you heard the clattering of dishware, the impact of a fist on flesh, someone falling to the ground, and at last Daemon’s voice cutting through the mayhem with a sharp “wait!”.

Pressing your palms hard against your eyes before looking around, you stood and took in the tense scene.  Aemond stood facing Daemon who had interjected himself between the prince and the Velaryon children.  With a “hmm” of annoyance, Aemond walked out of the room, his fists clenched.  Perhaps against your better judgement, you followed his retreating form.  

“Aemond.”  You said, he did not heed your voice as you jogged after him down the empty corridors.  “Aemond!”

You caught up with him, placing a hand on his shoulder.  Aemond whirled on you like a viper, hair wild about his face, and slammed you against the stone wall.  The breath was knocked out of your lungs as one of his hands came to rest against your throat while he placed the other beside your head.  “You are exhausting my patience, Y/N.  I do not wish to be followed and chastised as I know you intend.”

“You deserve to be followed and chastised.  The way you behaved was ridiculous.”

Aemond withdrew the hand next to your head quickly before slamming it back against the stone wall.  He took your wrist roughly and dragged you with him down the hall and into his chambers.  You hadn’t been in his rooms before, they were very large and well-lit, but you didn’t get much chance to take in the change of scenery before Aemond rounded on you.

“What I find ridiculous is how those bastards get to inherit titles and lands they have no right to.” He began to pace, running a hand through his hair. “And when anyone dares voice what we all know to be true,” Aemond stopped and turned to you, “they are cut down from behind!”

You swallowed, remembering all too well the events in the throne room that took place earlier that week.  “That doesn’t give you the right-”

“I have every right!” Aemond shouted, he crossed to you in two strides, taking your chin roughly between his long fingers and yanking your head up to look at him, his breath hot on your face. “They are bastards, Y/N, yet suffer no consequences.  Their mother sleeps with whomever she pleases and suffers no consequences. They take my eye! And suffer no consequences!”  With his free hand, Aemond gripped his eyepatch and pulled it off his head.

You wished you had breath to gasp, from fear or wonder you knew not which.  In the socket of his left eye Aemond had placed a sapphire of shimmering blue.  It caught and refracted the firelight in the room, seeming to glow from within.  Your own eyes widened as he revealed his face to you, and Aemond seemed to drink in your expression with a sort of wild delight.  “I will have his eye in return, or his life.”

Your voice escaped from you in a soft whisper. “Aemond, no.”

His face fell as his purple eye flicked between your own. He released your chin. “Go.”

You reached for him one last time, but Aemond stepped back from you, avoiding your touch like it was something unclean. “Go back to my sister, to your books and your delusions that I am a better man.”

“Aemond-”

“Leave me!”  He hissed at you, his curved mouth twisting in a snarl.  The sapphire eye flashed crimson a moment from the torch light and you spun for the door, fear racing in your veins.  

You all but ran down the carpeted hallways and into your room, sinking to the floor against the heavy door at your back.  You buried your head into your arms, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.  Never had you imagined Aemond to have such a bitter, dangerous side.  There were whispers at court of a more unhinged part to the prince, but there were always gossiping at court.  Your heart was heavy with the thought the barbed words had had merit.  

Aemond was a broken boy which made for a deadly and dangerous man.  

Now you saw him as he truly was.

[moon-spirit-yue]

Idea inspired by @incorrectgg that has been buried in my drafts for literal months:

Sisu, dragging Boun out to the Talon market: cmon captain, we’ve got some sights to see! *runs away*

Raya, totally getting ditched: well damn. They really just left our asses huh?

Tuk Tuk: *grumbles of annoyance*

Raya, pulling her scarf up to cover her lower face: well, might as well get some shut eye

Namaari, coming into the clearing the second after Raya got her disguise so she doesn’t know it’s Raya: hey! You there! Have you seen a woman called Raya?

Raya, eye twitching: or not. *now talking to Namaari* uhhhh who’s Raya? *nervous laughter*

Atitaya, groaning: of course she hasn’t seen her. Well I’ll go grab some food, we’ve been running out. Stay here Princess Namaari

Raya, deciding to mess with her: oh? You’re the Princess of Fang?

Namaari, nodding: yes, that’s right

Raya, eyes twinkling: so it’s true what they say, you really are attractive

Namaari: *blushes and turns her head away*

Raya, smirking: oh? Is that all it takes to get the great Princess flustered?

Namaari, blushing burning brighter: I am not flustered!

Raya, grinning: I absolutely think you are! Dare I say, you just might like me!

Namaari, scowling: I absolutely do not!

Raay, laughing: well I think you’re lying

Namaari, huffing: I don’t even know you!

*they do their typical banter for over an hour*

Sisu, strolling back on the boat with Boun: alright so I think we- *sees Namaari* oh what the hell

Boun, seeing Raya signal that she’s fine: uh it looks okay? Weirdly enough

Sisu, shrugging: alright then. *turning to Raya* Hey girlfriend! *in a friendly kind of way*

Namaari, feeling strangely jealous: that’s your girlfriend?

Raya, grinning: and why do you care, your highness?

Namaari, pouting: I don’t. Not even a little

Atitaya, coming back: alright Princess Namaari, we’ve got the goods!

Namaari, nodding and slightly disappointed she has to leave: alright, I’m on my way!

Raya, having fun messing with her: hey, dep la!

Namaari, feeling her heart going a flutter: yes?

Raya: you don’t have to worry, she’s not my girlfriend!

Namaari, frowning: and who said I was worried?

Fang soldier 1, sighing in relief: looks like she’s finally over Raya, thank everything

Raya, confused: what do you mean by that?

Namaari, glaring viciously at the soldier: not one word-

Fang soldier, smirking: oh she’s got a thing for-

Namaari: *rocks his shit in three seconds flat*

Raya, raising and eyebrow: well damn. That was brutal

Atitaya, sighing tiredly: it always is in this damn army

Namaari, rolling her eyes: we should wrap it up. *turns to Raya* it was, admittedly, nice to meet you

Raya, laughing: oh yes I’m sure- *pales as a harsh gust of wind passes by and flings her scarf off her face*…..start the boat Boun. START THIS BOAT NOW

Boun, frantically running to the wheel: ON IT RAYA

Namaari, eye twitching: NAH GET YOUR HOT ASS OVER HERE BINTURI

Atitaya, in tears: will I ever be free of that godforsaken Heart woman-

[inaflashimagine]

The Sweetest Moment

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Baker!Reader

WC: 2.8k

Warnings: Self-indulgent fluff fic with some cursing and suggestive themes. May give you cavities with the sugary fluff and cheesy banter.

A/N: I want to marry Gojo Satoru but since I can’t I guess writing this fic will suffice. Part 2 here!

—

As the owner of one of the most popular confectionery cafés in Tokyo, you’ve served a wide variety of customers, all of them eager to try the best cake and candies in the city. From clueless tourists to pompous food critics and the sweet-tooth regulars, you’ve seen it all. After years of perfecting your craft and learning how to manage your busy little shop, nothing fazed you.

Well, that was until you were staring at a ridiculously tall blindfolded man with wild white hair.

"May I help you?" you asked, hoping you could mask the slight annoyance in your voice. It was five minutes until closing, after all, and you’ve had quite a long day.

He only grinned as he bent down and looked at the selection in front of him, even sniffing and letting out a small “oooh” in fascination. Was he even able to look, with that fabric over his eyes?

"There's not many sweets on display."

Guess the blindfold wasn't as thick as you believed. You felt a vein bulging on your forehead before taking a deep breath. "Well, I was planning on closing until you came in."

"Oh? That would explain why this supposedly famous shop is empty."

You huffed indignantly but disguised it as a clearing of your throat, feeling the blood boiling under your skin. He was getting under your skin. And based on the way his Cheshire smile got wider, he knew what buttons he was pushing.

"I can give you a bit more time if you need it. I'll just be cleaning."

The next ten minutes were the longest of your life, as with every wipe of the shining tables and with each sweep of the already spotless floor, you could hear this strange man grumble to himself, uncertainty laced with every sentence.

“That strawberry shortcake looks so good. But maybe I should just get dango. Decisions, decisions.” He held his chin in a contemplative stance as if he was about to make the most important choice in the world.

It was almost comical and even relatable, really. You lost count of the number of times you’ve struggled over choosing your favorite sweets. But you’ve been up since five in the morning and were not in the mood.

You returned to the cash register and clapped your hands. “So what will it be?”

He returned the clap, showing way too much enthusiasm at such a late hour. “I’ll take them all!”

You guffawed as he asked what was wrong, an innocent playful tone behind the question. “You seriously want all of them?”

“Of course I do! You’re apparently one of the best bakers in the city, I want to see how true it is.”

You felt your heart race and face heat up at his somewhat back-handed comment. Was he challenging you?

“If you want to taste my goods at their best you have to come in the morning or early afternoon when they’re fresh.” You mentally cursed when he gave you a cheeky grin upon hearing the phrase ‘taste my goods’, miffed that he always seemed to be one step ahead of you.

“You know there are other ways to ask me to come back, although I guess food is the best way to my heart.”

You sighed resignedly as you quickly packaged the shortcake and the last of the wagashi before handing it to him. Although you attempted to avoid touching his hands, he did the opposite, intentionally brushing your fingers for longer than you liked as you pretended to ignore the slight jolt of electricity that coursed through your body from the contact.

“And before you ask how much it costs, it’s all free. I’m not having you blame me for the lack of freshness, but I know it’ll still taste good.”

He laughed and licked his lips as if imagining the taste. “I’ll be the judge of that!”

As he bid a “See you soon!” and left the shop, it took you awhile for the cogs in your brain to resume working. Surely you must’ve hallucinated it all.

“What just happened?”

—

When a week passed by you can’t help but feel duped. Hoodwinked, bamboozled by one of your recent customers.

Although you rarely took over the register in the late mornings/early afternoons, preferring to be in the kitchen while your apprentices handled the hangry regulars on their lunch breaks, you spent the past few days manning the earliest shifts at the front of your shop, waiting for a certain peculiar man to return.

Maybe it was your curiosity or your slightly bruised ego. But you just wanted, no needed, to know what he deemed your masterpieces, your products that gave you so much pride. You were never this fussed about someone’s opinion, not even when an eminent food critic once stopped by for a visit.

So why were you so worked up over a stranger’s thoughts?

You continued to mumble incoherently, punching the bean paste you were supposed to shape into a delicate flower as the busy lunch-hour crowd waned. Just as you managed to regain your composure and begin your design, one of your apprentices popped in the kitchen, confusion apparent on her face.

“There’s a man wearing uh, a blindfold, asking for you. Something about trying your, um,” her voice faltered, avoiding your gaze as her ears turned bright red, “perky fresh goods?”

“That bastard!” Though you couldn’t tell if your heart was erratically beating from frustration or excitement.

You crushed the confectionery in your hand as you bolted toward the front area like a furious bull chasing a red flag, almost knocking out your poor employee in the way.

And how you wanted to cover that wide annoying smile with all the bean paste in the world so you wouldn’t have to see it again.

“You’re late.”

“Well hello to you, too! I said I’d see you soon. I require five business days to form a proper review that follows the Gojo Satoru rubric.”

You blinked owlishly and tilted your head in bewilderment, unaware of that name in the food critic industry. “The what now?”

The man sighed and you swore you saw some of his spiked hair wilt. “I’m Gojo Satoru.”

For the first time in a while, you burst into laughter at the absurdity of it all, a sound that the man in front of you wished he could hear again.

“Is wearing a blindfold part of those rules? To enhance your tasting senses?”

“Oh, quite the opposite, but that’s a story for another day. I’m here for a different reason.” He slammed his hands on the counter, startling you as his face inched closer to yours. You wondered if he could see you waiting with bated breath, unable to back away as you stared at what you assumed would be his excited eyes.

“Well?” you prompted, impatience keeping you on edge.

“Oh, that shortcake was amazing, might even be some of the best I’ve ever had.”

You crossed your arms and grinned, feeling triumphant and questioning why you were so concerned in the first place.

“But, I’d still have to try everything you offer before I make a general conclusion.”  

“Oh trust me, it won’t change your opinion, but if you insist. You’ll make me richer anyway.”

You pictured his eyes rolling in response, but you were entranced by his laugh, a dulcet sound sweeter than anything you’ve ever baked.

It soon became a sound you craved for as Gojo began his weekly visits. You still didn’t know why he wore that darn blindfold when he was supposedly a high school teacher.

In fact, he remained mostly a mystery to you, but you found yourself enjoying his playful persona with each visit, anticipating them after a bad week. It was as if he even knew when exactly to come, ready to make you laugh with his cringe-inducing jokes.

Occasionally, he randomly visited during midday (“A short pit stop before I have to rescue my student!”) but nights were the best when there was no other customer but him while you both spent many hours past closing time munching on leftovers and conversing about random topics. Sometimes he would even stop by twice a week if you were lucky, or perhaps because of your certain actions.

“You definitely gave me less daifuku this week.”

“I did?” You batted your eyelashes innocently before taking a sip of your tea, attempting to hide your smirk.

“Oh pretend all you want, but I know you’re doing it to see more of this handsome face.”

He was lucky that you didn’t spit the tea into his face, which was snickering as he watched you sputter your way to an excuse.

Even if he was joking, you weren’t about to admit that he was right anytime soon. Yes, he saw you occasionally stealing longer-than-normal glances at him and those lips (how were they always so glossy?), but you also caught him doing the same. Especially when you once had to bend down to pick up a few wrappers that you dropped on the way to the trash can.

“If you keep looking there, Gojo, you won’t be getting any cake.”

“Oh trust me, I’m full thanks to the one in front of me,” he quipped, deftly avoiding your hand that wanted to wack his head.

Besides, you were simply studying him and the reason why he wanted to conceal the upper part of his face for science purposes only. No other motive. Or that’s what you convinced yourself, anyway.

It’s what you told yourself when he once showed up without a blindfold and in more casual clothing, seeing someone you simultaneously recognized but didn’t making you drop the coffee pot you held. It’s what the back of your head whispered to you as you ignored the urge to run your hands through his soft-looking hair and tried focusing beyond those thick, black sunglasses, picturing the color of his eyes, wondering if they lit up just as yours did whenever you saw him.

It’s the rationale you clung onto when he once gently wiped the crumbs you had at the corner of your mouth after sharing some chocolate cake, your body on fire as his slender fingers lingered on your face before they retreated and he continued talking as if nothing happened. As if you weren’t melting, weren’t burning to feel that touch again.

It was the logic you desperately grasped at while you felt your mind unravel, your thoughts consumed by a man you initially found irritating. It was as if you were back in high school with a silly crush, living for the flirtatious banter but too afraid to proceed further. You wondered if he felt the same way or if his cravings were only for the candies that kept his sweet tooth satiated.

Because for you, all you desired was more, more, and more.

—

The week you managed to hype and convince yourself to confess your feelings to Satoru was the same one he was missing in action. You hated how your chest ached with the dreadful idea that he had his fill, no longer entertained by you. It slowly brewed into anger by the end of the week, disappointed in yourself for actually believing you stood a chance when you didn’t even have his number.

Just as you were about to swear off on all men, your apprentice opened the kitchen door again, slightly shrinking at your murderous aura before squeaking out, “There’s three people who want to see you. They say they know Gojo-san!”

Your apprentice cleared out of the way before you did it for her as you dashed to the register area, your yearning heart winning over your practical mindset to let him go.

The last thing you expected to see were three teenagers, one looking bored out of his mind and two others drooling at the glass counter filled with numerous baked goods.

When you asked what they needed, the excited boy spoke up first, introducing himself as Itadori, the student of the man you had expected to see. “Are you the baker Gojo-sensei says is the best in Tokyo?”

You couldn’t suppress the pride swelling your chest as you smiled softly. That bastard needs to tell me that to my face. “Well, I sure hope so, or he must hate the wagashi I give him weekly.”

“So that’s where he gets all those sweets from!” marveled the short-haired girl, who called herself Kugisaki. “I didn’t know sensei had a girlfriend!”

You panicked while stammering out an explanation, relieved when the indifferent dark-haired teen spoke up.

“Anyway, we’re here because we need you to make a cake for him.”

“A cake? W-why?”

“Isn’t that your job?”

You felt less grateful for the bluntness of the bored teen, who seemed to be named Megumi based on Kugisaki’s scolding toward him. “I guess I’m just confused as to why he wouldn’t come here himself.”

“He’s on a long business trip,” Megumi explained curtly, who seemed eager to leave. “But he keeps on calling me and complaining about how he can’t find a strawberry shortcake as good as yours.”

“So please make one! And please give us some dango,” begged Itadori.

“Sure! I won’t even charge you. But on one condition...”

Megumi sighed as Itadori and Kugisaki gulped at your scheming expression.

—

“You know, you could’ve just asked me for my number, like any normal person.”

It took all of you not to rush over to hug him, to be enveloped in his honey scent that you were addicted to, but your hands were holding a precious strawberry shortcake. While you both approached your preferred table, the same seat you’ve sat opposite him for months now, a shy smile graced your face as you averted your eyes.

“Well, I would’ve asked earlier if I knew you spammed Megumi’s poor phone. Did you really say I was the best baker in Tokyo?”

“What lies are the youth telling you?” Gojo teased before chuckling at the frosted lettering on the chocolate bark you placed on top of the cake. “‘I missed you, bastard,’ really?”

You lightly punched his shoulder as he already started popping some strawberries into his mouth. “You’re just proving me right, not even waiting until a slice is ready. And let’s not mention how you went MIA for two weeks.”

Gojo scratched the back of his neck, a sudden nervousness you’d never seen him possess. “I am sorry about that, I didn’t think you thought about me beyond these talks.”

You stopped cutting the cake, setting it aside before incredulously staring at him. “A-are you serious?”

He gulped, cognizant of the knife pointed his way. “Well, you did say you were only concerned with me making you richer.”

“Yeah, as a joke!” you scoffed, shortly softening your expression. You cleared your throat, the air suddenly stifling. “Did you forget that I willingly spend hours with you after closing time?”

“I figured you were doing that to be nice.”

“You idiot! You know, I actually care about you.”

“What was that?”

“That you’re an idiot?”

“No, something about you...?” he prodded, his excitement radiating off him.

“Don’t make me repeat it!” You know that you grumbled earlier but his wide smirk showed you that he heard those words.

The paused silence crushed you as you squeezed your eyes, regretting that you ruined a friendship you cherished. You prepared for rejection until a large, warm hand covered your slightly trembling one.

“I care about you, too.”

The resoluteness behind that tone caused you to exhale a shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding, your senses suddenly on overdrive as you gaped at him with widened orbs. Your breath hitched as he slowly inched closer until the tips of your noses touched, giving you time to back away.

You didn’t.

His lips tenderly pressed against yours as you smiled into the kiss, enjoying the taste of strawberries that seemed to be sweeter when it came from him. Yet he backed away only after a few seconds, leaving you in a whining state while he grinned cheekily.

His grin grew wider as you pouted and poked him with the knife before letting it go. “Kiss me again, or you won’t get free food anymore.”

“Man, I should’ve done this earlier then.” But he complied as you enjoyed the tingling sensation you felt with each peck.

It was your turn to slightly retreat, pleasantly sighing and running your hands through his hair, finally able to appreciate the softness. “Better late than never. Now I’m expecting a date and it better be outside these four walls.”

“I thought that much was obvious,” he muttered against your lips before diving in for another kiss.

You were going to remind him there was a cake to be eaten, but then you realized why should you? No sugary dessert compared to this sweet moment.

—

A/N: This was so cheesy and self-indulgent but I’m not sorry. I think I might make a pt 2. but it would be a spicier *cough*NSFW*cough version of a kitchen/cooking food date. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Let me know what you think!

[lostcoves]

ft. tenya iida x fem!reader

genre: fluff

wc & warnings: 2k | mentions of wanting to v*mit

premise: thanks to your friend’s magnetizing quirk, you and your not so secret crush tenya iida are stuck together for the next six hours 

tenya iida, oh how you were enamored with him. his leadership, his quirky nature, everything about him made you melt into a puddle. but you were merely another face, a general studies student with an average quirk. you felt like you could never amount to anything compared to the hero course students. yet, fate had other plans for you and him.

"(l/n)-san!" your classmate kirumi yamamoto yelled your name across the classroom one afternoon at the end of the school day. you approached her- although, confused- and asked her, "what is it, yamamoto-san?"

"i need some help with my quirk practice and was wondering if you could help me?" she twiddled her thumbs, smiling like a cheshire cat. you pressed your lips together hesitantly before sighing and answering to kirumi, "okay, i'll help you."

kirumi quickly embraced you and grinned, "thank you, thank you, thank you!"

you would later come to regret this decision.

dressed in your gym uniform, you stood in an empty practice field and waited for kirumi to come out. she emerged from the school and waved at you, you greeted the wave and shouted to her, "whatcha need me to do to help you with your quirk?!"

"you're gonna be my target!" kirumi's quirk was magnets, she could make anything organic into a living magnet. your eyes widened at her response and opened your mouth in protest when she shot a beam at you. letting out a surprised scream, you stood frozen with kirumi's quirk pulsing around you. shit, you were a living magnet.

"now, who should i make into a magnet?" kirumi pondered on the thought until she noticed a group of people walking by near the field. kirumi smirked at the sight, tenya iida was in the group. she yelled to him, "hey iida-san, watch out!" before "accidentally" shooting her quirk's beam at iida. iida tried to duck but the beam was too fast, magnetizing poor iida in one blast. your eyes widened with realization and you let out a shout when iida came flying towards you. the two of you crashed into the ground, both disoriented and in pain.

"sorry!" kirumi laughed nervously.

"yamamoto-san!" iida exclaimed, "undo your quirk this instant!"

"yeah.. no can do!" she rubbed the nape of her neck sheepishly.

"w- wait do you mean?" you stammered, scared.

kirumi let out an anxious chuckle, "my quirk lasts for between thirty minutes to twenty four hours, depending on what i magnetize."

panic bubbled in your chest, you were gonna be stuck to iida for upwards to a day!?

"i'll say you guys are gonna be stuck together for maybe.. six hours?" kirumi hypothesized.

"six hours?!" iida was on the verge of passing out.

"sorry! i'll inform our teachers!" kirumi sprinted off, leaving you and iida to your own devices. queasiness enveloped your body, as you fought the urge to puke on your shoes. six hours, suck to your crush? this was a nightmare!

"before we do anything.. do you need the restroom?" iida questioned to you, his face blushing tomato red.

you shook your head, "thankfully, no. how about you?"

"same for me."

you two were in for an interesting six hours.

─────────────────

hour one - five hours remaining until quirk wears off

you and iida were in iida's bedroom. the teachers thought it would be more suited for you to be under the care of aizawa-sensei and the other pro-heroes specialized with this sorta situation. unable to go two meters without being sucked back to one another, you and iida made the executive decision to remain in his dorm room.

"so (l/n)-san.." iida cleared his throat and gave you an awkward smile, "what's general studies like?"

"like regular old high school," you mused, shifting a little to get more comfortable. iida felt himself getting pulled as a result, much to both of yours annoyance. kirumi's quirk was so frustrating! nothing compared to your simple quirk of water manipulation, a quirk that was a dime a dozen.

"what's it like being a hero course student?" now it was your turn to ask the questions.

"exhilarating," iida breathed out with a smile. he looked so beautiful when he smiled, you smiled in response. he then added to you, "we get in a lot of trouble with villains, though. something that i'm not happy about. they keep interrupting our studies and it's just.. annoying, to say the least."

"i bet," you hummed.

"so uh.. what else would you like to discuss? we got–" iida checked his watch, "–five hours and forty three minutes."

you huffed in exasperation, "good god, this is agonizing."

"hopefully, i'm not upsetting."

"no! you're not! it's just.. it's just.. i need my space," you confessed. iida nodded understandingly and replied, "i understand that. i'll do my best to ensure you're as comfortable as possible while we're stuck like this."

you gave iida's hand a squeeze, "thanks, iida-san."

he returned the hand squeeze with one of his own, his larger hand engulfing your smaller hand.

"of course, (l/n)-san."

─────────────────

hour three - two hours until quirk wears off

perhaps this was a blessing in disguise. you managed to learn a lot about iida while confined to his dorm room and under the magnetizing quirk. he pursued professional heroism as a result of being from a legacy of hero while you attended general studies to ensure a better future when you inherit your family's florist business. your quirk was good for subsidizing costs at the shop but you needed a better education in order to keep the family business afloat. general studies at ua offered a future for you.

"so iida-san," you plucked a grape off the platter of food iida's friend deku dropped off for the two of you, "if you could have any quirk in the world that's not your own, what would it be?"

"are we playing twenty questions?" iida tilted his head in bewilderment. you gave him a nod and he answered, "well, i have.. i'm a little jealous of my classmate todoroki-kun's dual ice and fire ability. i think it would be interesting to have a quirk like that."

"good answer," you plopped the grape in your mouth and gestured iida to ask you a question. he mulled over his question before proposing to you, "what's your ideal partner?"

you nearly choked on your grape but caught yourself before you could. why in the world would tenya iida ask you that kind of question?

"well.. i.. i, er–!" you adverted your gaze from your crush, "i like.. i like intelligent people who are good leaders and want the best for others."

"interesting, interesting.. what about appearance wise?"

you eyed iida warily, "i don't care too much about appearance but.. i like buff people and i think glasses are sexy."

iida made a mental note of your response, "i hope you find someone who matches your ideal lover one day, (l/n)-san!"

iida, you idiot! you thought to yourself, you match my ideal partner!

"so uh!" you cleared your throat, "next question.. what's your favorite food?"

this banter went back and forth for the next hour or so.

─────────────────

hour five - one hour until quirk wears off

you were getting exhausted and it was nearly nightfall at the dorms. your exhaustion was noted by iida, who offered you one of his blankets to sleep with. you grew flustered by the offer but nonetheless accepted it. so here you were, back to back with your crush and laying in his bed. was this a nightmare or a dream come true?

you couldn't sleep. i mean, obviously it was difficult to fall asleep in the presence of your crush. you tossed and turned a bit, the magnet pulse keeping you stuck to iida. the glass wearing boy sighed and turned himself around and whispered, "can't sleep?"

you gave him a nod and iida smiled, "what if i told you a story?"

"a story? what am i, a five year old?" you laughed awkwardly. iida frowned, disappointed. you didn't want to disappoint him so you cleared your throat and changed your answer, "you can tell me a story."

"good," iida wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, "my mother would tell me this story a lot when i was little. it starts with a knight and.."

iida went off to tell you the story of a knight cursed to be a beast until he could save a kingdom's princess. it was a story of heroism and sorrow, as the knight failed to save the princess. yet, the princess managed to save herself and in turn, broke the knight's curse with the power of self-forgiveness. you never heard such a tale before so it was definitely interesting to listen to.

"do you feel like you fail at self-forgiveness sometimes, iida-san?" you questioned to your crush, his arm still around your shoulders. god, it felt like the two of you were a couple. iida thought it over and responded, "sometimes. there are times where i feel like i can't forgive myself, such as not being able to avenge my brother for what the hero killer did to him."

you squeezed his arm sympathetically in response, "i'm sorry about it."

"it's.. well, it's not fine but thank you," he answered.

you fell silent, unsure of what to say. you sighed and turned to iida, "tenya iida, can i help you something?"

"sure, (l/n)-san."

"what would you do if someone told you that they liked you?"

"you mean as a friend or romantically?"

"romantically," your pulse quickened and your palms grew sweaty.

"it would depend on the person."

"iida-san.. i know someone who has a crush on you and they're scared to tell you," maybe you could avoid heartbreak if you go with the hypothetical situation.

iida furrowed his brow and removed his arm around you to hold his hands, "someone has a crush on me?"

"yes," a bead of sweat fell from your forehead, "they think you're heroic and sweet and amazing and a true leader. they're just scared to tell you because of the rejection."

"that's understandable," iida nodded. he unclasped his hands and looked back at you, "is that person the one telling me this?"

you gulped, "wh– what do you mean?"

"do you like me, (l/n)-san?"

you adverted your gaze.

"(l/n)-san?"

"i do."

it felt as if a weight had been lifted from your chest at your confession. now, time for the rejection.

"i like you, too."

what? he liked you too?!

"wait, you do? but we barely know one another!" you protested, surprised at iida's reply. iida chuckled and elaborated to you, "it was the sports festivial, (l/n)-san.. or could i call you (y/n)-chan?"

"(y/n)-chan works," you answered.

"well, that was the first time i really saw anyone from general studies perform with their quirks but you.. i saw a hero in you. i remember seeing you aid another student who struggled to get through the race. you helped her all through the race, not caring about winning the race. that was heroic and the start of my infatuation with you," iida explained.

you remembered, a girl had gotten injured and you dragged her through the course. iida saw that?

"then i began seeing you around school and i wanted to talk to you but i never had the chance until now," iida finished with a nervous smile. you let out a soft huff, followed by a laugh. you couldn't believe it, iida shared similar feelings with you. this was a dream come true!

"can i kiss you?” you proposed to iida. he nodded, “you can.”

timidly, you leaned in close and pressed a gentle kiss on iida’s lips. the kiss was tender and sweet, innocent and exploratory. 

“wow..” he whispered against your lips, “that was amazing.”

“you think so?” you murmured, your lips still stuck to his.

“i know so.”

“hey tenya– i can call you tenya, right?”

“of course.”

“good, but uh.. i can’t remove my lips.”

iida’s eyes widened and he pulled back, only for your lips to connect together once more. horrified, you realized that you two would be stuck like this for the next hour or so. damn kirumi and her quirk!

yet, this wasn’t a miserable outcome. at least, you and iida confessed to one another. that was more than enough for you.

[kuroos-moon]

『Hate’s Twin Called Love』

— request by anon whose initial ask i could no longer find 😫

❥ pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader 

❥ genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, denial  

❥ warning/s: language

❥ wc: 2.4k 

“I got here first,” you frown, narrowing your eyes as you placed a hand on the chair nearest to the window. 

“I placed my bag here, which means I got here earlier,” he casually replies, wondering why you won’t back down despite your height difference and his intimidating facade. 

Your frown deepens, and he does the same when neither of you give in. “I don’t care, I wanna sit here,” you say, your inner brat surfacing just because the way he glared at you ticked you off, so you stubbornly sit on the desk. 

“What a nuisance,” he grunts, sitting down on his chair as he rightfully should. 

Ever since then, you never passed up the opportunity to piss him off or give him even the slightest inconvenience of the day, devilish, you’re well aware. He’s the devil himself though, and only you could point that out. With him showing a sly grin your way when you lose a pen, only for him to proudly use it for you to see. 

“Hajime you asshole, give me back my pen,” you give him a death glare, and he innocently looks at you, acting confused. “I don’t have it, y/n.”

“Cut the bullshit, that’s my only one,” you grimace, irritated at the fact that of all the numerous pranks he could do on your never-ending war ever since highschool, he just had to steal your pen right before a test. 

“Don’t blame me when you’re the one who lost it,” he blinks, perfecting the art of acting clueless. “Give it back I don’t have another one!” You raise your voice, and he stops scribbling, looking at you in amusement. 

“What?” You huff, and he only chuckles under his breath, momentarily biting your pen to further irritate you. “I’ll fucking kick your ass after this,” you bite your tongue, wanting to scream at him if it weren’t for the many other students and a strict teacher here with you. 

And that’s just one of many encounters with the sly seemingly-mature ace who knew just how to annoy you like it were his second nature, but deep down, your day’s never complete without the usual sarcastic banters or the subtle mouthing of ‘fuck you’ or ‘whatcha looking at’ between classes, that’s why you sit bored in class for a few days when they’re excused for practice. 

Your happiness literally comes from seeing him so mad that he’s speechless as he sees you’ve uploaded an embarrassing baby picture source: oikawa or as he realizes you’re the one who’s been giving away his number. 

For him, you’re the exact same, you’re the devil’s spawn. Trotting along so casually as if you were an angel, only for the disguise to fall off the moment you open your mouth, profanity after profanity especially when you were talking to him. It wasn’t long before your string of curses was music to his ears and the highlight of his day, taking pleasure in having you yell at him, or in especially irritating occurrences, you’re throwing things at him. 

It just so happens when you’re casually sitting in the corner of the room, minding your own business as you listen to music. “Y/N-CHAAN!” You look up to see Toru, out of breath as he leant on the doorway of your classroom . “Iwa-chan’s talking with some girl, come look,” he grins, and just like that, your eyes twinkle with excitement. 

Time to to get back at him for that ruined test, you smirk to yourself, the clueless Iwaizumi standing at the end of the stairwell as he flirts with the poor girl who didn’t know at all how much of an asshole he was. 

“Babe!” You exclaim, the fakest and widest smile on your lips as you throw yourself at him, loving how he cringed away from you the moment you wrap your arms around his torso. “What the fu-

“I missed you, shall I come over tonight?” You gush at him, locking your hold on him with intertwined fingers as he tried to push you off without actually using too much force to hurt you. “Cut it out, you little shit,” he mumbles to your ear as he stills, waiting for you to unwrap yourself from him. 

“Who’s this Iwa-chan? Is she a friend?” You say enthusiastically, the deadly aura he gave off only making you want to piss him off more. “Iwaizumi is she your girlfriend? I thought you hated each other,” she raises a brow and you smile, looking up at Iwa. 

“That’s just our love language though, isn’t it babe?” 

He has had enough. It’s been days since you’ve bantered, the only interaction the past few days were the failed attempts to trip each other in the halls, but he wasn’t in class the whole week. Some part of him thought that he was relieved in your absence, but lately he’s been feeling empty. 

“Iwaizumi?” The blonde girls huffs, crossing her arms against her chest. 

“Iwa-chan, doesn’t she know how much you love me?” You pout, squeezing his bicep which you really hadn’t realize was this rock hard until now. It was the look of annoyance and pure hatred that made you smirk for only him to see, but you thought wrong. 

He wasn’t mad because you interrupted his romantic stairwell rendezvous, nor was he mad that you literally show up out of nowhere, being this close to him. He was irritated because you thought you were winning, you thought you were pissing him off; but joke’s on you, he actually found himself amused by this whole ordeal. 

“Babe let’s just go, you’re not cheating on me are you?” You add fuel to what you thought was a burning flame, thinking you had succeeded on ruining his day. 

“How ridiculous, you know I only have eyes for you,” he leans down, a teasing and excruciating mere inch between your faces, the side of his lips curving upwards so subtly you’re not sure it’s really there. Your eyes widen, and his grin grows as he could practically feel you stop breathing. 

He watches you storm off, knowing fully well he was victorious for this round. 

Iwaizumi - 1 

Y/n - 0 (Loser) 

The game against Seijoh and some other school was over, and like every other game, you got first-row seats, it was the one and only time wherein you actually admire Hajime (admittedly). You stood outside, waiting for your friends to finish gushing over Oikawa and you look up questioningly when you see pairs of shoes on the ground. 

“Uhm, do you guys want something?” You ask, confused, somehow feeling ganged up on with three girls surrounding you. 

“We’ll cut to the chase, stay away from Hajime,” she spitefully says, and you snort the moment you hear his name. 

“You don’t even have to beg me for it,” you say and they furrow their brows. “You’re acting so coy! Pretending to be some goofy girl who tries to piss him off only to get to spend more time with him!” 

You sigh, “I’d kill to have him away from me for as long as possible, what are you guys even on about?” 

“Just stay away from him y/n l/n, he’s mine.” Cue another chuckle from you, “yours? I question your taste but Hajime doesn’t belong to you,” you sweetly smile, not knowing where the sudden irritation came from. 

Seriously, how could she say he was hers when he probably doesn’t even know her name like the stupid non-caring jerk he is, but you somehow thank him for it, somehow relieved that he could barely name a girl in your class that wasn’t you. 

“What do you know?!” She seethes, about to land a palm right across your cheek but it doesn’t come, instead, she stood petrified as she meets Iwaizumi’s gaze, securely standing behind you as he firmly grasped her wrist.  

“That’s quite enough,” he glares, the girl immediately withdrawing her hand. “What are you here for?” You bitterly ask, the previous encounter in the stairwell still having your hate meter for him past its max. 

“Y/n-baaaaka, where’re those killer moves of yours that almost have me injured all the damn time,” he says, his lips tugging downwards as he looked at you, and you stiffen under his touch when he rests his elbow on your shoulder. Now looking at the girls, “You’re quite the troublesome bird-brained bunch, pathetic too. You better not come anywhere near us again,” he grunts, a dull ring to it in fact; but his usual voice was also usually intimidating, hence the effortless success of scaring away the girls for good. 

You scoff, “what’s with the sudden chivalry?” 

He raises a brow at you before a scowl forms at his lips, “shouldn’t you thank me?” 

“What? For coming to my rescue? How charming, nothing less to expect from our ace,” you huff, turning around to walk away. You know how much he disliked you, so why was he being kind? Why do you a favor and rest his elbow on your shoulder and act like friends, maybe lovers— you recall the position you were in last time, you clinging to his arm while he leaned in, face painfully close to yours. 

“Did you really mean that? You’d kill to have me away from you,” he chuckles, “what strong emotion,” and you halt, turning around to look at his expression which resembled the masking of hurt. “You were listening?” You ask, but he merely walks towards you.

“Thought I’d hear some sort of love confession,” he stops a foot away from you, “but that was fucking disappointing.” You’re beyond confused at this point, why in the world would he expect a confession out of you? YOU of all people, you’re enemies, same sides of a pole that simply will and never attract. 

“What would you have wanted me confess?” You narrow your eyes at him; your pathetic attempt to be defensive when in reality your walls were all crashing down, and he’d be free to walk in and capture you his; vulnerable and genuine, free from your lies and forced obliviousness. 

“I’m exhausted,” he says, leaving you stupefied when he holds your chin between his thumb and index, warm from having spiked the ball multiple times as the ace from the game earlier on. “I don’t give a fuck, just keep your fucking hands off of me Iwaizumi,” you glare, making him grin. 

“You swear a lot with that pretty mouth of yours,” he presses on you more, knowing this would either be a hit or miss. A hit for when you crumble and give in to him, spilling the truth about how you truly felt which he has long figured, because he can’t be the only one who felt this way, no? 

The miss wouldn’t be much of a miss though, he’d still love it if you exploded, punching him or something but at the same time postponing your long overdue truthful conversations because you convinced yourself too much that love and hate were separated by a thick line, which was far from how it actually was. 

“I hate you,” you spat, but he can’t see any hatred in your eyes at all. “Does that mean you don’t want me?” He taunts, his lips inching closer and closer to yours. You only find yourself looking down, unable to breathe at the suffocating feeling of having your emotions come out all at once. 

love or hate, which was it? The latter. No, it couldn’t be, you wouldn’t be finding yourself getting lost in his eyes if you did truthfully despise him. Then, was it the former? Perhaps... Maybe... Probably explaining why you were going to say it, “if you don’t kiss me right now, Hajime, I will.” 

Bingo, he wins, it was a hit. 

In one swift motion, he locks lips with you, your hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders as he tilts his head sidewards to deepen the kiss, not wanting to spare an inch of your mouth. It was the perfect kiss, one to show your yearning for the other through questionable means such as inconveniencing the other’s life, and one to express the raw passion of love that without a doubt made every bit of you ecstatic. 

“Oya, Oya, what’s this?” Oikawa’s annoying voice reaches his ears, Iwaizumi pulls away with one last peck on your lips. “I’ll fucking kill you,” he mutters under his breath, Toru flinching before letting out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, well then, I’ll leave you two to it,” he grins, waving at you before running off. 

“So you’ve had a crush on me all along, huh,” you smirk at him, his ears turning red as he looks at you. You snicker, poking at him teasingly as he covers his face with his hand. 

“Don’t push me,” he finally says, and you let out another laugh, of course you’re going to push his buttons, “eh, so what are we now, babe? I don’t think I like you at all, honey, that was charity.” 

“Charity?” He muses, grabbing your wrist to whisper closely in your ear, you gasp, his breath against your skin leaving you flustered. “If anything, all I did was fan service.” HE HAD YOU ALL FLUSTERED AND SPEECHLESS AND FOR WHAT? 

You push him away, irritation making you want to breathe fire, “FAN SERVICE?” You exclaim, wearing the deepest frown he had seen on you making him laugh. 

“Kidding, kidding,” he nonchalantly says, and you scowl, “I hate you.” 

“If you hate me so much then why not go out with me?” He says, all seriousness in his tone.

“What?” You blink, that was sudden.

“You should date me, cling to me, piss the fuck off other girls who try to get in between, and make sure I see your face everyday, that would ultimately make me miserable, and you hate me so much that you want that, don’t you?” He finishes, hands in his pockets as he looked straight at you. 

This time, he actually feared how this would turn out. He had revealed his cards already, there’s no going back to normal after this, things could only go from being strangers or to being lovers. 

“Sure, let’s date. Give me the luxury to annoy you everyday, and you better not break up with me for it,” you smile, and he chuckles, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

“Then don’t break up with me if I make you mad like ten times a day,” a soft subtle smile plays at his lips while you both walk hand in hand together outside the building, the sunset striking so beautifully at the two of you but you didn’t have much time to admire it as you were kept preoccupied with each other’s conversations. 

_____________________

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh