#anyway I hope it doesn’t drag on that’s always been my fear about writing long fics

[kaizokuniichan]

What You Want

Roronoa Zoro x AFAB reader

Summary: You have a tendency to slip into Zoro’s bed every time you drink. For some reason he lets you keep on doing it

This is the absolute longest fic I’ve ever written in my life. I don’t know how it happened, I just let my hand take the lead. Apologies for any weird formatting, I was forced to write this on my phone.

Warnings: alcohol use, unprotected vaginal sex, oral, light choking, slight degradation, use of “good girl”, nipple play

Word Count: 5.6k (😰)

MDNI; 20+ readers please

(Divider by @cafekitsune )

Sometimes you had this nasty habit of slipping into Zoro’s bed when you drank. You didn’t know why, it was just something you did.

The first time it happened you’d been so inebriated that your stumbling around had resulted in you tripping over a pair of boots, scrabbling onto the bed to break your fall, and flopping unceremoniously onto his legs. He startled awake and attempted to shove you off but your drunken delirium insisted that you were in your room and you had every right to be there. Exasperated, he rolled you off his knees and you eventually passed out by his ankles.

A mumbled apology came the next day during breakfast which he wordlessly waved off. After quickly gulping down his food, he grabbed his katanas and headed out the door. No other exchange about the matter was made.

The first time you slipped under the duvet, the dip of the mattress was what pulled him from his slumber. It was just enough for him to see you at the furthest edge of the bed, your head flopping onto the pillow and your soft snores soon following. You’d only slept for maybe 2 hours before you jerked awake, realizing where you’d mistakenly wound up again. You quickly gathered your shoes and pants that had been haphazardly discarded, and snuck out of the room.

The first time your bodies made contact, your back had been pressed against his. He hadn’t actually been sleeping much that night; you were unaware of his watchful eye as he looked over his shoulder at you. Subconsciously you knew something was different (still convinced you were in your own bed), a comforting wall of warmth bleeding in through the thin cotton of your tank top. He rolled his head back to face his side, eye growing heavier as he finally succumbed to sleep. When he woke a few hours later your spot was empty and cool, rumpled sheets slightly flipped back being the only indication that you’d been there.

A new thing started happening where you faced your front to him, inching closer to his bulky form. You’d ungracefully throw an arm over his waist, hot and clammy palm spreading over his abs. Sometimes, you’d swear a larger hand covered yours with a quick squeeze. But the thought never registered for longer than a second, sweet unconsciousness beckoning you soon after. Those nights his curiosity got the better of him, and he wondered what you looked like up close while you slept. As he turned under the weight of your arm still flung over him, he was met with your face half stuffed into the pillow, mouth open with a thin layer of drool dampening the pillowcase. As he adjusted himself to lay on his stomach, your body stirred and one of your eyes cracked open to stare back at him. He’d thought your focus would be foggy but you looked deep into him, down to his very bones. You held his gaze for what felt like hours under the calm nothingness that only existed during a night faring the seas, before you promptly sat up and hastened to exit the room as you always did; this time forgetting to grab the shorts and bra you’d carelessly tossed.

You knew he was aware of what you were doing but for some reason you couldn’t stop it from happening, and he wouldn’t stop you from doing it. You rationalized that the only reason he allowed it to continue was because he was just as intoxicated, sake vapors always permeating his clothes. It remained an unspoken thing between the two of you, the only acknowledgment being an amused look from him every time you took that first gulp of whiskey.

You wondered how no one else seemed to know, you weren’t exactly quiet anytime you stumbled into the men’s quarters. But then again they all slept like logs and you always managed to slip away before the sun could peak over the horizon.

Tonight was your birthday, and contrary to popular belief, you tended not to drink as much on this day, wanting to fully experience the joy and laughter with your beloved crew. A few glasses of bubbly and maybe a shot or two here and there, but not enough to put you on your ass.

Zoro had a good sense of your drinking habits, so he could tell you weren’t going as hard as usual. He wondered whether or not you’d be joining him in his bed tonight, seeing as how your mostly sober mind could possibly hold you back. His eye caught yours as it always did. Your skin was warm and glowing, cheeks puffed up from the ever-present grin plastered upon your face. It took Usopp, knocking into you and spilling his drink onto your shirt, to finally pull your attention away from Zoro as you screeched with laughter, chasing the sniper around the deck with a handful of cake meant to be smashed into his face.

Things finally wound down to lull as everyone crashed outside under the milky glow of the moon. Zoro looked around but couldn’t find you or either of the other girls anywhere, and deduced that you’d all probably left together. Oh well. Looks like he’d have the room to himself. Throwing Luffy’s arm off his cheek, he dusted off his pants and made his way back inside. His heavy footfalls echoed throughout the empty halls, wood creaking as the Sunny rocked him along. Finally arriving at his door, a fleeting image of you waiting in his bed, curled up under his sheets, crossed his mind. He quickly shook it off, knocking it back towards the huge pile of other non crew-like thoughts he had of you, and opened the door. Instead he was greeted by an empty bed, and as he closed the door, he quickly stripped himself of his clothes, and collapsed onto the mattress.

As you stood outside the door to the men’s quarters, you cursed yourself for your lack of self control. Your mind had now associated any amount of drinking with sleeping in Zoro’s bed, and that revelation had caused you to lie awake with a mysterious insomnia. After an hour of tossing and turning, your body had gotten up and your feet lead you, seemingly of their own accord, to wherever they wanted. And now here you were at his door, fully cognizant of what you were doing. Your knuckles turned white from your hand’s grip on the doorknob, and you tried to gaslight yourself into believing that you were actually drunker than you thought. This was a perfectly normal thing that you always did.

Pushing the door open you found Zoro in his bed, asleep as always, positioned in a way that was normally reserved for napping. Laying on his back, he looked luminous under the shafts of moonlight filtering through the window. Arm under the pillow behind his head, his bare chest rose and fell in a slow and steady rhythm, his soft snores tumbling from his parted lips. Your chest tensed and you stilled. You hadn’t expected him to look like that . Normally he was more of a misshapen lump under the blankets, but tonight his body looked almost as if it was offering an invitation to you. You tiptoed closer, using a few moments to take him in. With sheets rumpled at his waist, you had a clear view of his torso, which rippled with bunches of muscles beneath the skin. His jawline was as sharp as ever, head tipped back to reveal a clear line between it and his neck. He was so achingly handsome it made you gasp, chest tightening even more as you wondered how the hell you’d survived sleeping next to him during the past few months without melting completely through the floor. Liquor really did seem to have a dulling effect on your nerves. After a quick mental battle of building up your nerve, you finally lifted the covers and slipped beneath them, inching closer and closer until you were almost touching. After a few moments of admiring the wrinkle between his thin brows, you settled more comfortably into the pillow and finally dozed off.

It couldn’t have been more than an hour long nap before your dreams melted away. Something was different. You’d fallen asleep on your stomach but instead of a firm mattress beneath you, you were angled on your side and there was a portion of a body pressed against your chest. You wiggled your fingers and felt the taut skin of someone’s pec, and your leg was thrown over the large, corded muscle of someone’s thigh. This couldn’t be right. You didn’t have any current situationships on your roster that justified this level of intimacy. Embarrassingly, your body wanted to welcome the comfort with little resistance. But your mind and your body were always at war, and your flight instincts kicked in as you planned to rip yourself away and slink on back to your room. But just before you could remove yourself completely, a heavy arm you hadn’t realized was around your waist pulled you back against him. You looked up to see a mirthful smirk and a steely eye peering at you.

“Done using me like a hunk of meat?”

“What?” You croaked, heart anchoring into your gut.

“You’re cutting our time short, usually you stay longer than this,” he continued with a poke at your side, grinning like he’d finally caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. And perhaps he had.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I came here tonight. I’m not even that drunk.”

“Yeah that’s the problem, you only seem to come around when you’re drunk.”

Your mind whirled in confusion. Was that what this was about? Did you give the impression that you didn’t enjoy his company in any capacity other than when alcohol was involved?

“Zoro, I’m sorry if that’s how this is coming across, I don’t mean that at all, of course I like being around you-“

Your frantic excuses were cut short by his amused chuckle.

“You’re making this too easy. I knew it was gonna be worth it, messing with you tonight.”

His toothy grin irked your spirit and you thumped his chest in retaliation. Of course that’s where this was going, this was Zoro. Annoyingly perceptive and slightly mischievous, despite what most people thought of him.

“Why haven’t you told me to leave then? After all these months?”

“To be fair I did the first time, but you kept arguing that I’d actually snuck into your bed.”

The faint memory was promptly squished back into the deepest parts of your mind.

“Well…you still allowed it to continue. Why?”

He hummed as he scratched his chin, pretending to ponder.

“Dunno. Figured you had a reason.”

“What possible reason could that have been?”

Zoro’s arm, still around your waist, pulled you closer as he turned onto his side to face you. The dip in his tone made your skin erupt in goosebumps.

“Figured you wanted something from me.”

Breath caught in your lungs as to what he was implying.

“Like what?”

His brow arched with a knowing look, slipping a leg between your own and lifting yours higher around his waist.

“Something I’ve been wanting to give to you. If you want it.”

His eyes bore into yours, waiting for your next move. You hesitated a few beats before finally wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, pulling his face closer.

“I want this,” you sighed, brushing your lips with his.

He smiled against yours, pulling you tighter.

“Finally.”

The kiss that followed was like an ocean storm, knocking you off balance in its undertow. The groan that settled in his chest sparked electricity in your veins, causing you to whimper. Your tongue met the seam of his lips and he curled his own around it, guiding and tangling them together. The sound of your lips smacking was unseemly, but you accepted it as proof that this was actually happening. Your mouths soon parted to catch your breaths, chests heaving in unison.

“Zoro…”

He grunted in response as he rolled you onto your back, groin settled against yours. You could feel the bulge of his arousal rub against your center, and your leg that had been draped over his waist remained hooked around him. His hand next to your head gripped the sheets as his mouth descended upon your lips once again, the hand on your waist pressed more firmly and made up and down motions against your skin. He caught your bruised bottom lip between his teeth and bit down, sucking it into his mouth until there was nothing left to give. You let out a whine and he moved to the side of your face, pressing his lips to your ear.

“I wanna keep hearing that tonight, you saying my name like that.”

Not waiting for your reply, his teeth came out to bite harshly into your earlobe. You yelped, helplessly rocking your hips against his. His thigh slid further between your legs until it met your wetness at your center, nudging to provide a place for you to grind against. His mouth continued to do sinful things to your neck and collarbones, taking note of which spots got you to squirm wriggle against him.

Eventually the hand massaging your ribs slipped under the hem of you shirt, lifting it up to expose your breasts. Wanting to see them before he felt them, he stopped himself from giving your pulse point another nibble to look at you properly. The unwavering inspection had you feeling shy as you made a move to pull your shirt back down.

“Don’t do that,” he ordered, grabbing your wrist to stop you, slamming it back down into the mattress.

Your chest continued to heave as you tried to quell your insecurities, hoping that he liked what he saw. Seemingly reading your mind, he tsked loudly.

“You’re such an idiot.”

“Huh?” You balked at him, utterly dumbfounded. That was definitely not the response you could’ve ever predicted to receive for providing him with a full display of your tits.

“You know how hard it’s been for me, letting you leave all of those nights?”

You had no reply prepared but it didn’t matter, any possible words would’ve failed you as his mouth latched onto your breast, tongue licking playfully at your nipple.

“Even watching you drool all over my pillows and snoring in my ear couldn’t stop me from wanting you.”

Annoyance tickled your temple, even as he sucked on the underside of your breast.

“I may have drooled once or twice but I definitely don’t snore.”

He looked up with a smile showing all 32 of his teeth before replacing his mouth with his hand to rub his thumb softly against the pebbled nub. A surprised gasp broke free from your lips. Sometimes you wondered if you were the type of person who could cum just from your nipples being stimulated. Maybe one day you’d test that theory.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

You rolled your eyes, turning your head to the side, unable to argue with all of his pinching and prodding. His hand reached over to grasp your jaw, forcing you to look back at him.

“Stop being difficult or I won’t give you your present.”

Your teeth clicked with the force of your mouth snapping shut, making him snicker.

“Is that all it takes to get you to listen to me?”

“Yeah if that’s what’s always being offered. I can be good for that.”

“Hm. Greedy.”

“I’m allowed to be, it’s my birthday.”

His fingers smushed your cheeks together, but he made no move of keeping you waiting as his mouth continued it’s journey down your body, sucking on your skin and biting the softness of your tummy. Slowly he peeled down your sleep shorts, discarding them into the darkness. Immediately your knees knocked together but he pulled them apart to stare intensely at the large wet patch in your panties. This time you felt pride as you watched his mouth go slack, his eye flitting back up to meet yours, dark with desire. He hadn’t thought it would be this easy to get you worked up like this, you were normally so stubborn about everything . If only you knew what this was doing for his ego.

As he bent down to bite into the plushness of your thighs, you sat up to enjoy the visual of his face nuzzled between your legs. You’d never seen him look sexier than when he glanced back up at you, intense eye contact stealing your breath once more. He nudged his nose against the covered lips of your pussy and gave it a sniff, an unexpected moan rumbling in his throat.

“Fuck. Never imagined you’d smell this good.”

You were left speechless as he removed your panties, finally exposing you to the cool air. You gasped as his tongue poked out to taste the juices leaking between your lips, and your head fell back down as you whimpered. One of his hands kept your hips firmly in place while the other crawled up to resume dragging his fingers across your nipples.

His tongue curled along the seam of your entrance, serving him another moan of his name and a firm grip on his hair. Not being able to hold his composure, he dragged your body closer to drape your legs over his shoulders.

“You know, if you were thinking this was gonna be a one time thing, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought.”

“Stop being mean,” you sighed, pulling his head closer to your untended wetness, “get on with my present now.”

His mouth kicked up into a smirk before he brought it back against you, tongue chasing the leaking juices before stuffing them back inside. Your nails clawed his scalp as he hummed against your clit, his tongue making practiced and precise traces along the bud. You were briefly brought back to a conversation you’d had with Robin where you wondered if the power that it took to fight with a sword in his mouth resulted in his tongue developing an unusual strength. As his tongue bullied it’s way inside and along your walls, you concluded that it had to be true, and you gave thanks to his three-sword style as if it had provided a favor specifically for you.

Zoro’s senses were saturated with the essence of you. Your plump thighs squeezed his head deliciously as he fucked you slowly with his mouth. Your hand gripping his hair made him growl, rubbing his face further between your legs, groaning at your continuous whines dancing in his ears. You were so wet, clenching around his tongue, he had to reach a hand into his boxers just to bring himself some relief. He was unbearably hard and the more your hips bucked in time with his movements, the more he had to squeeze himself at the base just to keep himself at bay. Thankfully, you seemed interested in watching him work, your half-lidded eyes and pouty, kiss-swollen lips being any indication. He liked performing for you, and silently praised your bold approval.

His hand still played with your nipples, and every swipe of the pad of his thumb had your hips jumping so fiercely, he knew he’d have to file that away for later. But now you were moving too much, and he had a job to finish. Taking both of your thighs still hanging over his shoulders in his hands, he folded your body in half so that all you could do was lie there and take everything he gave to you. His tongue, still darting in and out of you at a steady pace, began making languid swipes along your clit. Your panting became louder as he continued his teasing, sucking one of your lips into his mouth and releasing it with a pop.

“Zoro…Zoro…please don’t stop. Please.”

You were begging now, and that was good. He’d oblige you, of course. Wrapping his lips around your clit, he provided a combination of licks and suction, working in tandem as your whimpers climbed louder and more breathless until finally, everything crashed. You came into his mouth with a throaty wail, body convulsing in his hold. He continued to lap at your juices as you shuddered with aftershocks, steadily coming down with a weak whine. You eventually settled down with a sigh and he released your thighs, causing your lower half to flop back onto the mattress. You sat in silence still panting and spent, spread-eagle with him kneeling between your legs. You cracked your eyes open to look at him, shaking your head.

“You are an absolute demon.”

He grinned smugly in reply, fingers swiping along your lower lips.

“I didn’t hear any complaints.”

Zoro’s dick cried for attention, and he was normally too disciplined to be led by it. But as he pulled it free from his briefs and used your slick to lube himself up, he was thankful that tonight he was going to indulge. He stroked himself lazily, looking up when he heard your soft gasp.

“Fuck…me.”

You’d let the words slip before you could scoop them back into your mouth. The sight you were met with went absolutely mad, beyond your wildest imagination. Here was Zoro, big, wide, and powerful, looming over you with the muscles of his bicep flexing as he jerked himself to the sight of you. His face was still insufferably smug as he kept his pace.

“You good?”

“Hm.”

Your lack of reaction had him quirking his eyebrow, curious as to whether or not you had met your limit and were ready to conclude the evening.

“We can stop now if you want to-“

“I thought it was still my birthday?”

Both of Zoro’s eyebrows rose as your energy seemed to return and you watched him intently, hand still wrapped around himself. You sat up on your elbows and licked your lips before giving him those shiny, doe eyes.

“I want the rest of my present now,” you pouted.

It was Zoro’s turn to be speechless as you grabbed his waist and forced him to lie back down over you.

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” you murmured, sliding his briefs down to give his ass a squeeze. The movement had him bucking forward, his hand finally ripped away from his dick to catch himself from dropping all of his weight onto you. You continued tugging his underwear down until he leaned on his side and slid them off, flinging them aside. His free hand grabbed your shirt still bunched above your chest, and roughly slipped it over your head, tossing it to join the rest of your clothes. He brought a hand to you hip and slid it down slowly to your thigh, hooking it once more around his waist as he settled back over you.

“Still got time to back out sweetheart.”

Your chest stuttered as you felt him poke at your entrance. You carded a hand back into his hair while the other touched his cheek, thumb tracing his lips. You were so caught in the moment, your feeble mind unable to focus on anything other than him. The feel of his strong body against yours, his veiny cock gliding smoothly between your pussy lips, his head turning slightly into your hand, giving it a whisper of a kiss. You were too far gone.

“Zoro…”

“Tell me what you need.”

You brought your mouth to his for a long, soft kiss before you looked back up at him. God, you were so pretty. Maybe he was kinder than he thought because in that moment he would’ve given you absolutely anything.

“I want you to give me everything,” you said, and he was convinced you’d read his mind.

He released a breath and guided himself into you, squeezing his eye shut as he felt the immediate squeeze. You were still so wet from his spit and your own arousal, but your walls were tight as he hadn’t used his fingers to stretch you. You didn’t seem to mind as you pulled him close, and he shallowly pumped himself in and out, going slightly deeper with every roll of his hips. You relaxed more against him and it became easier for him to slip inside; you opened up so nicely for him. Your hips rose to meet his careful thrusts, and before he knew it he was completely and snugly sheathed inside you.

He’d underestimated how warm and tight you’d be, even after your initial orgasm from earlier. He had to stop and catch his breath, panting in your ear as he willed his body to calm down. It wouldn’t due for him to cut this prematurely. You were looking to get thoroughly fucked and he was the only one who was going to give it to you how you wanted. After he was done with you you’d never be able to crawl into anyone else’s bed ever again. He was going to mold your pussy so only he could fit.

You hadn’t stopped moaning since his hips connected with yours, and you began clawing at his back, begging him to move. Your body was hot and wound tight as if you hadn’t just cum earlier. He finally lifted his head from the crook of your neck and slipped a hand beneath your body to press it up to his.

“You gonna be good for me?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, limbs turning to goo.

Giving you another quick kiss, he shoved inside you and lost any last dredges of sanity. You felt unbelievable, gripping his cock in a way that wouldn’t let go. His hand sandwiched beneath you grabbed your ass, giving him leverage to slam back into you. His breath came out in heavy pants as he built a bruising pace, grunting and groaning into your ear.

Your hand still pulled at his hair while the other held onto his bicep. The force of his thrusts made your whole body bounce up towards the headboard, and the rhythmic squeaks of the bed were embarrassingly loud. You hoped nobody had woken up in search of the room you both were defiling. Your pussy ached and fluttered against him as he fucked you, his stomach flexing with every grind of his hips. He was so brutal and so mean you were sure he was going to put a hole through the mattress. Suddenly he dropped your leg and pinned both of your wrists above your head.

“Wrap your legs around me sweetheart.”

God, what could you do besides follow that voice? So sinful that it gnawed at your spine. You wrapped both your legs around his waist, and his thrusts became more slow and rough.

“You gonna keep taking it?”

“Ye-ah.”

He pressed you further down into the mattress, your endless stream of moans becoming stilted from the force of his pounding.

“You gonna let me keep stretching this pussy out?”

“Please,” you pleaded, eyes watering as he plowed away at you.

You were so pliant for him, allowing him to use you as he pleased. He was going to batter your pussy red until it was swollen. Taking both of your wrists in one hand, he rested his other around your throat.

“Yeah?” He prompted, asking for permission.

“Fuck Zoro , please, ” you begged, all stubbornness and shame flying out the window. He was going to be insufferable when he was finished with you, your right mind was already dreading it.

“I knew you were a nasty girl,” he smirked, squeezing lightly at the sides of your throat. Despite his obvious strength, his discipline helped him hold back when he needed to. Obviously he’d never seriously hurt you.

“Fuck, it’s so good,” you whined as he continued to slam into you. His grip tightened as he leaned down to press his forehead to yours.

“Turn around and get on your knees for me.”

The growl in his voice made you wetter, and you squeezed tighter around him. He released your wrists and throat, sitting back up on his knees. His dick slipped out of you and slapped against his stomach, glistening with your slick. Getting a proper look at it, he was just as thick as you’d thought, with a nice curve that was sure to scramble your brains from the new position.

“You gonna keep drooling over it or are you gonna let me fuck you properly?”

“You are such a dreadful man, I didn’t drool!”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” he sighed with impatience, grabbing your arms and manhandling you onto your stomach. You whined and cursed into the pillow while grabbing another to stuff under your hips. Keeping your weight on your elbows, you pushed your hips back, making a nice pretty arch for him. His palm met your ass with a loud smack, and you felt his teeth take a bite at your cheek.

“You’re the one that’s nasty.”

He tapped his dick against your ass a few times, watching the strings of his precum and your juices coat your skin.

“Yeah.”

Without any warning he shoved himself back inside you, covering your back with his body and pressing his palm into your lower back to deepen your arch. You continued to wail into your pillow as you shoved your ass back against him. He nuzzled his head along your shoulder and neck, cooing condescendingly in your ear.

“Aw, I know. The big bad man keeps treating you mean.”

“So mean,” you hiccuped, dragging out the end of the word as he picked back up his brutal pace. The slapping of his skin against yours was abhorrent, and absolutely erotic. You felt your thighs jiggle as he slammed his hips, the curve of his dick dragged along your walls, carving a space for himself inside you. The head suddenly bumped against that soft, fleshy patch inside, and you keened. This was gonna be it for you.

“Zoro…I can’t. I can’t hold on for much longer.”

He took sympathy on you as he licked and sucked at the back of your neck, hands fisting the sheets as his body continued to climb with yours.

“It’s alright, you can let go. You’ve been so good for me. My good girl.”

His words had you squeezing him so tight he thought he would choke, a stream of moans and curses escaping your lips as the pressure built tighter and tighter. One of your hands came down to circle your clit, fingers slipping over the absolute mess covering your pussy. You gave a few more weak grinds against his hips before everything snapped and you caved, orgasm pulling at every last one of your nerve endings, down to your toes.

Your cries were in time with the pattering of his hips, and he sat back on his knees to watch the ripples of your ass as it connected with his pelvis. You were such a messy, crumpled heap against the pillow, and you’d never looked more beautiful. His body begged him to let go and release, and he was going to listen to it.

“Where do you want me to cum?” His voice was strained, panting and breathless as if he’d been in a harsh battle. God you were really wearing him out.

“Inside,” you said weakly, voice muffled by the pillow you’d stuffed your face into. He chuckled to himself. You were always so greedy.

“Maybe next time sweetheart,” he teased, still managing to be a shit while his threads unraveled.

With great difficulty he pulled himself from inside you, your walls still trying to drag him back inside with a weak grip. Taking his cock in one hand, he looked at your ass still raised in the air, and pumped furiously until his will broke and he spilled, long ropes of cum painting your ass and your back.

His body collapsed on top of yours, knocking the wind out of you. You allowed him a few seconds to catch his breath as he groaned into your skin before you whined at him to get off. With a tired sigh he rolled onto his back to stare at the ceiling. You followed his lead, wiping the sweat from your face.

“I can’t believe. You just fucked me like that.”

He gave a half chuckle and glanced over at you.

“Hey I was just giving you what you wanted.”

You bit your lip as you stared back at him.

“Yeah, you did.”

He went to grab the sheets that had been kicked aside, and pulled you against him for a spoon.

“Zoro,” you protested, attempting to free yourself from his grip, “I can’t stay here. I’m sweaty, I’m gross, I’m covered in cum. Someone will find us.”

“I’ll wake up before anyone gets back,” he mumbled, pulling you closer until your back was flush against him.

“But my clothes, I’ll never find them under that sea of junk.”

“Just wear mine.”

“But…”

“Just shut up and go to sleep.”

Any strength left in your limbs depleted as he kept a boa-tight hold around your middle. His soft breaths fluttered against your ear, and you knew he had already slipped into sleep.

Tired and weak, you snuggled back into the curve of his body, pulling the blankets up to your chin as you allowed your final moments of consciousness slip away.

You prayed that no one had turned up to the other side of that door.

[only-lonely-stars]

The Best Gossip on the Planet!

Oneshot – (FFN) (AO3)

Summary:

Cat Grant had it! The best scoop she'd ever gotten, right on the roof of The Daily Planet! Or, Superman and Lois aren't the most careful when it comes to who sees them. One thing leads to another, and to another, and to an article in The Daily Planet.

This fic is inspired by artwork by @tsbdhdndj! Thanks for letting me write based on it! <3

It was undeniable! Simply preposterous to even begin to dispute this truth! This would be the story which made the fabulous Cat Grant a star journalist! 

The story began that morning, when Cat heard one of her coworkers cry out that Superman had flown up to their building’s roof. Every time Superman showed up, juicy stories followed him! Cat wasted no time as she ran to the stairs, scaled the fifteen floors above her, and then tip-toed up to the access door. She planted herself there, listening intently for her favorite kind of news: gossip.

“Come on, Superman! We both know Lex is just a spineless coward. You can take him!”

“It’s not about whether I can take him in a fight. This is a problem of reputation.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! He’s just a bully. Who listens to bullies anyway?”

Cat pushed the door open gently, just wide enough to see through a crack.

Lois Lane and Superman were standing on the roof! And by standing, of course, she meant that he was floating a few inches off the ground and she was in his arms, too close for him to have just carried her up. No, he was holding her more intimately than that.

She’d caught them red-handed!

“Lois, I can’t just punch all my problems away. Plenty of people listen to him, that’s why Lexcorp even exists. I have to handle this the hard way.”

“But–”

“No buts! That’s not how this works, and you know it.”

Lois sighed heavily, laying her head down on his shoulder in an awfully familiar manner. “I wish it wasn’t so hard…”

Cat reached for her phone and snapped a picture through the crack in the door. The shutter gave a little click.

“I know– hold on.”

Superman moved faster than Cat could blink. He pulled open the door, Lois abandoned where they’d been just prior, and he was glaring at Cat. “Cat Grant. I should have expected you to be eavesdropping.”

“Cat?!” Lois shrieked. “Cat, stop, this isn’t what it looks like!”

She jumped on the opportunity. “Superman, please, elaborate on the situation here! Are you aware Ms. Lane is currently in a romantic relationship with Clark Kent, another of our journalists? How does it feel to be the side chick? Just how long has this been going on?”

Superman backed away, wide-eyed. “Woah, hold on! That’s not– it’s not–”

“I’m not cheating on Clark!” Lois cried. “It’s– this isn’t anything, purely professional!”

“Professional?” Cat whooped with laughter. “My dear, my dear! It didn’t look that way to me!”

“You’re wrong. It’s nothing weird like that.”

“Nothing weird? Why, this is exceptional! Superman, you must let me interview you!” She gave him a sly smile, enjoying how his eyes widened in either fear or hope. “To clear the air, of course.”

Superman cleared his throat, averting his gaze for a moment before he spoke to her directly. “Ma’am, I must insist that it’s none of the public’s business.”

“Oh, but the public–” Cat pointed at herself– “already knows that something is going on! Surely you’d like to get ahead of the rumor wheel.”

He considered her argument, and Cat knew that he would agree. She always knew.

When he glanced back at Lois for confirmation, Cat was certain she had her scoop, even though Lois was frantically trying to pantomime that he should stop. “...Fine. I’ll answer your questions.”

Cat whooped in victory. “Fabulous!”

She sprang forward and grabbed Superman’s hand, pulling unsuccessfully. “Come, come, you must want privacy!” He complied and walked with her, and Cat dragged him to the corner of the rooftop near the building’s AC units.

She spun to face him and held up her recorder. “First question. What do you think of Clark Kent?”

He blinked twice. “Uh… who is that…?”

“Lois Lane’s self-proclaimed boyfriend! He’s another reporter here at the Planet, and has written several articles about you.”

“Uh– oh, yeah, Mr. Kent! Of course I know him!” He laughed awkwardly. “Um, he’s fine. Just a regular guy, a good reporter. Nothing special about him!”

“Oho, nothing special?” Cat pressed her advantage. “So you think he’s mediocre? Is he not worthy of Lois?”

“What?! I mean– no, nobody’s worthy of anybody else. Ms. Grant, I don’t think about him at all!”

Another score! She tried a new angle, “And what about Lois? What drew your eye? Didn’t you once say your ‘ideal woman’ was a ‘tall surgeon?’ We both know Lois is nothing like that.”

Superman frowned. “Ma’am, I don’t think the events of a reality show have any bearing on real life.”

“So did you lie?”

“What? No, I don’t lie to people.”

“Come now, Supes. Everyone lies. That’s why I have a gossip column in the first place.” Cat smirked. “Now. What’s so special about Lois Lane to capture the eye of Metropolis’ most eligible bachelor?”

She knew she’d struck a chord when the superhero blushed. He paused, stammering and hemming and hawing.

“Well… she already said it's nothing like that.”

“Come on, Superman! That blush says you have eyes for her. Spill.”

He sputtered and blushed a deeper pink, giving some excuse before he finally answered. “Lois is certainly a special person. She’s brave and kind, and really has a heart for Metropolis. She thinks the people should know what’s happening in their city, and I… admire that.” He shook his head, gaining some composure. “Ms. Grant, I won’t go into what is not between us. Just know that Ms. Lane is a wonderful person. Nobody needs to be extraordinary to be valuable.”

Cat nodded, mentally noting how Superman seemed to grow more confident as he spoke about her– like Lois meant more to him than he was letting on, just as she’d expected. What a twist, to have a superhero vying with an average man for a date with a journalist! This was going to be one of her best articles so far.

“Of course, of course. One last question, Superman.” She leaned forward, holding his gaze. “What would you like to say to Clark Kent? You know he’ll read this article, so give him a message!”

Superman paused, thinking hard, and placed his fists on his hips in one of his most iconic poses. “Well, Ms. Grant. If I had one thing to say to Mr. Kent, I’d tell him to keep Lois close and treat her even better than she deserves. He’s a lucky man.”

Cat snickered. “Is that really everything? You won’t try to stake your claim?”

“Stake my claim?” He considered it again, and then grinned– a mischievious expression that Cat wished she could get a photographer to capture. “Oh, I see. Yes, please put in the article that while I won’t fight him, we both know Lois gets whatever– and whoever– she wants.”

The scoop was hers! Cat whooped in victory. “Of course, Superman! I’ll make sure it’s impossible to miss!”

Superman nodded, gave her a bland goodbye, and flew away. The rooftop was suddenly quite empty and still, with Lois having somehow escaped during her conversation, but Cat was triumphant anyway.

Now, to add the pièce de résistance!

—

“Oh, Claaaark!~” Cat sang as she walked down the halls of the Daily Planet, waving a piece of paper in the air. “Claaark, where are you!”

She opened the door to the newspaper morgue without knocking, just to find the very trio she wanted to find. Jimmy and Clark were bent over the table, looking over some documents, while Lois was pinning things to their ‘murder board’ at the back of the room.

All eyes fell on Cat.

She laughed. “Oh, perfect! Just who I wanted to find!”

Lois shrieked. “Nope! Nope, nope, nope! Get out of here, Cat!”

“No can do!” Cat barged in, delighting in the boys’ shocked expressions. Lois tried to push her out of the room, but Cat managed to close the door just in time to stay inside. “Come now, Lois, there’s no need for that! I just wanted to talk to you bunch.”

“Absolutely not!” Lois was red in the face now.

“You don’t even know what I wanted to say!” 

“I have a pretty good idea! Clark, help me get her out of here!”

Clark looked between them with a bemused expression, smiling. “What’s going on here? Cat’s got just as much right as anyone to come in here, you know that Lois.”

“I swear, Smallville–”

“Clark!” Cat cheered and reached out to grab his hand. “Perfect, just the man I wanted!”

Clark blushed. “What?”

Jimmy’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

Cat laughed. “Oh stop that. Nothing of that sort, boys. I need to talk to Clark. An interview!”

Clark laughed nervously, sounding faint. “Um… you want to talk to me? Is this work-related?”

“Of course!” Cat pulled out her recorder and clicked it on. “Tell me, what do you think of Superman?”

He blinked, and blinked again. “What?”

“I said, what do you think of Superman? Come on, give me something to work with here! You know non-answers don’t work for articles!”

Clark stammered a little more, looking between all of the people in the room. He landed on Jimmy, who wiggled his eyebrows. “C’mon, buddy. Just tell her. It’s probably some human interest piece.”

He sighed. “All right. What are you looking for here, Cat?”

Here was the clincher. She leaned forward, winking. “Give me your full, honest opinion about him. Do you think he’s a good person? Is he handsome? Approachable? Honest?”

Clark laughed. “Honest? Of course he’s honest. Do you seriously think someone who spends their time helping everybody without asking a thing would be a bad person?” He rolled his eyes. “Please. I bet he’s the type to splurge on gifts for his mom, or… adopt a kitten in need of a home, just because it needs one. Metropolis is better off with him helping us.”

Cat nodded and jotted down a couple notes. He obviously thought highly of the superhero… was it highly enough to get a good reaction? 

She pulled out her piece of paper and offered it to him. “Look at this and tell me what you think about it.”

Clark stared at it, with Jimmy and Lois coming up behind him. Lois was somehow even more red, as if she was about to combust. Jimmy looked at it, then at Cat, then back and forth between the two. The paper illustrated Superman and a blue sky background, as if flying through the air, with a superimposed candid of Lois from around the office pasted into his arms. It looked a bit like a sticker on top of a poster.

Jimmy looked unimpressed. “Uh… Cat, did you Photoshop this?”

Cat rolled her eyes in frustration. “Yes, but that’s not important. Give me feedback!”

“This looks like a fan comic.” He took it and looked it over, turning it this way and that. “And a bad one. Seriously, did you even try?”

“Of course I tried!” Cat snapped, grabbing it from him. “It’s called a visual aid, darling. Now–” She looked at Clark, who was looking between everyone else with an unreadable expression. “What? What is it?”

“...Cat, why did you Photoshop Lois and Superman together?”

The scoop was hers!

“Oh, well, I just wanted to know what you had to say about Lois and Superman secretly dating!”

Jimmy gasped. “What?! No way, you’re crazy!”

Lois looked like she could melt through the floor from sheer embarrassment. “Yeah… crazy…”

Clark gaped at Lois. “Lois? You’re kidding. Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

Lois glared at him and said nothing.

“Oh… oh, boy. Oh my gosh. What? I mean– I just– what?” Clark sputtered, making some meaningless noises, ruffling his hair and knocking his glasses askew. “You said he wasn’t going to be a problem!”

“Clark–”

“No, you said he was just a friend,” Clark continued, staring at her. “You’re telling me that you said you ‘didn’t want to be official right now,’ and then went off and started going on dates with Superman? Lois, that’s just cold!”

Something undefinable crossed between them. Cat pulled out her phone to snap a subtle picture– with flash, of course– as Lois turned on him.

“Well, you know what? He’s exciting. He’s a hero. Of course I said yes to going on a date with him!”

“And I’m not exciting? I’m not good enough for you?”

“You’re not Superman,” Lois accused.

“So?! I treated you like a queen! You met my parents, Lois! I’ve never brought anyone to meet them. How about when your apartment bathroom flooded and I helped you clean it up? Or when your dad came to my parents’ for Thanksgiving? Or–”

“You think you’re such a hero?!” Lois snapped, storming over to him and pointing her finger right in his face. “Then you go and be Superman. Go ahead, just try to save Metropolis the way he does every single day. Just try and be half the man he is.”

“He’s not even a man, he’s an alien!”

“Maybe I like aliens. Ever thought of that?!”

Cat couldn’t keep down her whooping laughter. It echoed through the morgue, stopping Lois and Clark in their tracks. The two turned on her in sync with matching angry expressions.

Lois raised her finger to point at Cat. “You. Stay out of this.”

“No.” Clark stepped forward, between Lois and Cat. “You know what? No. Cat, I know you’re gonna write an article on this, so I have a message for Superman that I want you to put in, word for word.”

Cat was giddy as she got out her notebook. “Please, tell me! I want all the details.”

Clark took her recorder and brought it up to his face, speaking slowly and clearly. His voice was low, dangerously low, and filled with brimming frustration. It was enough to rival the male leads in Cat’s romance novels!

(So she liked to read trashy romance. Sue her. Romance was the world’s largest book genre for a reason.)

“Superman, this is a message from Clark Kent. You might be a hero, and might save Metropolis from whatever comes to hurt its people, but you don’t get to take everything you want just because of that. If you want someone to date, go about it the normal way.” 

His gaze slid to Lois. “If you really want to romance Lois so badly, first you have to take it up with me. I’m sure you know where I live, so… so… meet me on the roof and talk to me like a man. I won’t give up on Lois, not ever, so we’ll let Lois decide once and for all.”

Lois was watching him with wide eyes. Cat took back her recorder, smiling slyly as she put away her notebook. “Is that all?”

Clark smiled, then nodded slowly. “That’s all. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I think I need to have a little talk with Lois. Will you give us some space?”

Cat snickered. “But of course. Have fun, you two!”

She opened the door, and almost as an afterthought, grabbed Jimmy by his jacket collar. “Come along, Olson! We’ve got an article to write!”

“Hey, wait– let go of me!”

“Metropolis waits for no one!” Cat sang it out as she pulled the door closed behind her, slamming as she left. She pulled the struggling Jimmy down the hall to her cubicle, only letting him go when she dropped him at his own space. “Don’t go back in there, dear, they need their space.”

“But–”

“No, no buts! Trust me, you don’t want to see that.” She winked, enjoying how Jimmy’s jaw dropped. “They’re just fine with no one else there.”

Jimmy sputtered. “Wh– I– fine?”

“Good, good!”

Cat left him behind, sliding into her own cubicle with a sly smile. She felt like the cat that had gotten the canary!

What would it be like when they met? Oh, she could already envision it! The mental picture was delightful, she just had to laugh!

She could see it now. Superman and Clark Kent, facing off against one another. The anger, the tension, the jealousy! Superman, superior in strength, and Clark Kent, able to affect Superman’s reputation in every article he wrote. Would they fight? Would they shout?

Oh! What if Lois were there? Torn between the two men she’d been seeing, who fought over her like a prize! She would be so torn. Cat could see her faint expression now, how she would want them to settle the matter! Two men, vying for her heart, and one of them superhuman.

It was too juicy to resist! Cat logged into her computer and started writing immediately. Something this hot had to make it into tomorrow’s paper!

—

ONE LUCKY LADY! by Cat Grant

We all know that the hearts of Metropolis’ people were captured by Superman as soon as we met him. Strong, powerful, and superhuman. What’s not to love?

The Daily Planet has investigated Superman ever since breaking the news of his debut. His exploits have been nothing short of legendary. Many of our own reporters are able to tell of times when Superman personally saved them from falling buildings, rescued their pets, or helped them with whatever they needed– not to mention fending off alien invaders and strange tech weapons. He’s been a rock for our community.

So what is he up to now?

The Daily Planet is pleased to report that Superman seems to have turned his eye to the romantic side of life… and is dating our very own investigative journalist, Lois Lane!

Eagle-eyed readers may remember that Ms. Lane has been romantically involved with another of our journalists, one Clark Kent, for several months now. Lane and Kent frequently work together, and have a reputation of a loving relationship. But could something be wrong in paradise?

Superman was willing to answer a few interview questions on the matter.

CG: What do you think of Clark Kent?

S: Mr. Kent! Of course I know him. He’s fine, just a regular guy and a good reporter. Nothing special about him. I don’t think about him at all.

CG: What’s so special about Lois Lane to capture the eye of Metropolis’ most eligible bachelor?

S: Lois is certainly a special person. She’s brave and kind, and really has a heart for Metropolis. She thinks the people should know what’s happening in their city, and I admire that.

CG: One last question. What would you like to say to Clark Kent?

For this question, Superman considered his words carefully. What could he have been thinking?

S: I’d tell him to keep Lois close and treat her even better than she deserves. He’s a lucky man… While I won’t fight him, we both know Lois gets whatever, and whoever, she wants.

Talk about a challenge! Metropolis’ darling makes it sound like he’s not the slightest bit worried about who she might choose. But what would Mr. Kent think?

The story only gets better. After quite the argument with Ms. Lane, he gave the Daily Planet a message for Superman.

“Superman, this is a message from Clark Kent. You might be a hero, and might save Metropolis from whatever comes to hurt its people, but you don’t get to take everything you want just because of that. If you want someone to date, go about it the normal way.

“If you really want to romance Lois first, you have to take it up with me. I’m sure you know where I live, so meet me on the roof and talk to me like a man. I won’t give up on Lois, not ever, so we’ll let Lois decide once and for all.”

Talk about a challenge! Superman, we hope you’re ready for your most dangerous battle of all… a battle for Lois Lane’s heart. Here at the Daily Planet, we already have our favorite horse in this race, and that’s Ms. Lane. No matter who she chooses, she’s the luckiest woman in Metropolis right now!

—

Of course, Cat had no way of knowing what actually happened in the newspaper morgue that day, or how the article would be received.

She didn’t hear how Clark cracked jokes about Lois having to choose between him and himself. She didn’t see how Lois egged him on, pretending that he would hunt down Superman and give him a knuckle sandwich. She didn’t see how Lois laughed and laughed, begging him to spare himself, until finally the two ended the so-called argument with a kiss and a nice, long hug.

What she did hear was that Superman had flown around the city the day it was published, signing every copy of The Daily Planet he could find, and leaving a signed copy with a note on her desk for her to find when she arrived at work.

Dear Ms. Grant, 

The spin you put on this story was entertaining, so thank you for a good laugh. Please make no mistake that I do not date citizens– or anyone, Lois included. I wish you continued success in your writing.

-Superman

[la-scree]

Yua and G'raha: Why They Will Never Be Comrades

Before we get into this bit of Yua’s Lore and why it happens, I will need to bring up some Content Warnings. It’ll be marked within the writing but also I’m just gonna say it here as well:

-Torture and Murder

-Suicide Ideation

-Isolation and Loneliness

I also want to point out that it's okay to like very different characters compared to myself. It's something I have to say because Fandom will Fandom but I'm not gonna be an ass just because you like the ketchup cat. We got enough bullshit in the fandom and I'm not the type to piss in someone else's sandbox. With that said…

You’ve probably heard me go on about how Yua has issues with the Scions’ resident catboy and speak briefly about why she feels that way. While I have my own critical thoughts, they do not go as far as how Yua views him. Not yet anyway but his simps (derogatory) are driving me to the point of hating him so your mileage may vary. You’ve heard me throw things such as ‘gets aggro pinged’ when it comes to their so-called relationship but I never really put into a lot of detail as to why. It’s taken me a long time to put it into words so I hope this goes alright, especially since so many things have changed since I had last written things on this (2021) and now it’s 2024. But before I explain why Yua doesn’t have love for G’raha, I’ll need to talk about some of her time before her arrival in Etheirys and why that part of her life made her the way she is.

A Traveler By Not Her Own Choice and Her Own Mental Struggles

Yua has been going through some intense trauma that hasn’t been addressed in years. To be more specific, she has CPTSD due to her time during Persona 4’s end as well as her time in Synodiporia, a game on Dreamwidth where she was constantly travelling between worlds. Within the True Ending of Persona 4, Yua faced the goddess of Death, Izanami (and her start of somehow always getting involved with Death deities) as Hope’s Representative to show that Humanity can make its own choices. During the fight, each member of the Investigation Team took a hit meant for Yua and as a result, died and got ‘dragged to Yomi’.

Yua watched all her friends get killed and dragged to Hell. That’s not a small trauma, even for a Wild Card and someone still in her teenage years. Moreso because she spent a lot of time with them and grew close to them given her lonely life before Inaba. Yes they got revived but still, that’s a horrible thing to witness! And before that, Adachi fought Yua and was left frozen while he pistol whipped her and did his villain monologue. Think what happened in the original anime but the only difference is Yua managing to break free and stab his hand with a piece of glass. Again, a traumatic moment during her teenage years and seen currently by Yua’s fear of guns. 

It gets more intense when she was forced by beings called the Arcana to be a pawn in a game that will determine which would run the universe. And because of this, Yua experienced one of the very worst things that can happen to anyone: murdered then brought back to life constantly.

(CW: Talk of torture, death, isolation, and loneliness)

One of the worlds that Yua visited before the events of Syn happened was called Moebius: a sick and twisted prison the Arcana put the Travellers like her in as a means of punishment for telling a group in the previous world who they were and what they were trying to accomplish: it all depended on which Arcana was involved. The purpose of this jaunt was to make sure everyone dies…and replaced the original people with the Travellers. Or rather ‘overlays’ but nitpicking won’t help right now. And there’s another twist to this: there’s a time limit. If they don’t accomplish their goal, time resets and they would have to do this over and over again. 

Some of these loops Yua remembers. Some she doesn’t. One she does was when doctors purposely cut her open as a means of torture with no anesthesia and wide awake, being one of her deaths. Another time was where they cut into her torso, another was other travellers killing her, the list goes on. Every single time, Yua was murdered and the scars quite literally remain. And every time she was killed, the arcana revived her like it was nothing. Like her life didn’t matter. This was the start of Yua’s spiral, changing from the positive girl who would be open to anyone to being closed off and much more harsh. This also led to her feeling isolated from the other travellers, including other versions of the Investigation Team when they did not know she existed. Basically, every single person knew Yua as her male counterparts called Souji Seta or Yu Narukami. There was an exception (sort of) with a version of Adachi, being in the role of the Wild Card where he did meet a girl named Seiki. However, she died in a car accident as a young child.

So there was another version of Yua out there…just dead. You can see why this doesn’t help.

She couldn’t really hold strong friendships or connections except with Adachi (who will be called Herodachi so it differs) and Minako Arisato, the FEMC from Persona 3 Portable. Even with those, the isolation grew strong as Travellers would sometimes get stuck within various spaces specialised to themselves called dungeons. What’s in a dungeon depends on the person and their emotional state. Sometimes calm and other times hectic and dangerous. Typically, someone stuck in a dungeon needs help getting out from others but there are very rare exceptions.

Yua was the only one.

She was stuck in her own personal hell of isolation, loneliness, and making sure she didn’t die to Shadows. She pulled herself out and while on the surface, this sounds heroic and shows how strong and tough she is but it wears on her the more the journey goes on. Others are trapped in their own dungeons and there is always help at the ready, including Yua because that’s how she’s always been: willing to help others, right?

She was always willing to lend a hand to help another in trouble…but no one ever came for her. Yua had to pull herself out of her dungeon not just once but twice. And yet no one came.

She began to feel hollow. Even while talking with others, she started to feel numb. The one who noticed was Herodachi and after speaking to him, he noticed her eyes looking distant, losing their light and life. He knew what was going on. And it was his words that helped pull Yua back from despair. Not completely but a small step:

“Hey…don’t go Empty on me.”

Just like Cylva when explaining about Ardbert’s reaction upon learning who she was, Yua too was shown care and was undone. She broke down into tears and cried as he hugged her. Despite all of this, Yua’s traumas still remained. She cannot sleep without assistance and when she can sleep, there’s usually nightmares. She fears guns and doctors and hospitals by extension, refusing to be seen unless there is a dire emergency. She wants to be able to die without being brought back, having ideation thoughts of suicide and wondering if she’d find peace that way. She starts to look at Hope as a curse but she can’t bring herself to despair because everyone will depend on her. Her counterparts are typically male and the only counterpart who was in fact female is dead. Was she meant to be? 

Safe to say that Yua suffers from CPTSD due to this…and G’raha’s actions in Shadowbringers sadly made them much worse. Remember the phrase ‘The road to Hell is paved with Good Intentions’ because that’s what happens and the consequences of these actions end up with him leaving in 5.55.

(End of CW)

Fighting Back Against An Idealised Version

One of the biggest reasons why this will never be is that G’raha cannot take off the rose tinted glasses of idol worship. In the recent lorebook, a passage stated that as the Crystal Exarch, he spread the story of someone called the Warrior of Darkness based on Yua from the memoirs from Edmont de Fortemps and his own biases from when he and her went into the Crystal Tower. Certainly it didn't matter that she threw him into a tent when they officially met because he was playing around and hiding the sand she needed in a den full of ixal. Or that Yua only saw him like a co-worker; someone who was fine and that’s it. His plan was basically to summon Yua to the First, let her hold a ton of tainted Light until the right moment where he can try to be a Big Damn Hero and take all the nasty aether along with himself and die.

In his eyes, Yua Narukami can do no wrong. She is strong, kind, sweet, caring, and cannot do any wrong. To him, she has no problem that she cannot overcome. She’s the Warrior of Light after all, the pinnacle of heroism. To G’raha Tia, Yua is Perfect. And how does his hero take this mindset?

Very badly.

During every single interaction before Rak’tika, Yua acts antagonistic because he keeps trying to change the subject, always hiding something. He acts like he’s apologetic for the Scions’ predicament but Yua refuses to hear it. After all, how could she trust a man who kept her in the dark and refused to show under his cowl? From the get go, Yua refuses to be anything like an ally to him, bringing up during their first Occular meeting that he’s not being nice but rather trying to not fuck up more. When G’raha says that he hopes that there is some form of trust between them after telling her the troubles of the First, Yua wasn’t having it.

"No, I don't trust you at all because you're practically holding people hostage and I got no choice in the matter."

Besides the idol worship, she absolutely hates her ability to make a choice and her bodily autonomy taken away. While yes he does say something along the lines of ‘you don’t have to do this’, there’s no other option. Just the illusion of one.

Yua usually cuts through the bullshit and will say things as she sees them; this is why she never gets involved in politics because she knows she’s bad at them. Any kind of potential idol worship she sees from him, Yua quickly shoots it down until she sees the results of it after Innocence’s fight and G’raha’s attempt at sacrifice. In fact, she managed enough strength to call him a ‘fucking coward’ and that distraction was enough for Emet to use the Gun Spell. The kicker is that moment pissed her off not just because of the idol worship but what his ‘heroic sacrifice’ showed her: a hollow message.

His words meant nothing because Yua attempted to try and understand him after Rak’tika, asking what motivates him but he side stepped her questions. When the ascian Emet-Selch was more upfront with her, Yua trusted him more. Even to the point of falling in love with him despite knowing what will happen. It pained her to kill Emet but she knew it needed to be done because no one else can save the fucking universe it seems.

G’raha’s sacrifice would be hollow to Yua, especially since she has seen several others back in a shadow world stand against a death goddess. And to keep Yua safe, each of them pushed her aside and took the hits meant for her. She watched them get dragged to Yomi and die. The friends she shared meals with, fought alongside with, talked to every day, celebrated festivals with, made a genuine connection with…that caused her pain and made her flashback. And it made her more angry because G’raha basically spat on the memory of her dear friends.

Yua only rescued him because he needed to send the Scions back home but outside of that, she couldn’t give a shit less about him. And why should she after everything he put her through like holding all that tainted Light and messing her body up more, doing things that brought back traumatic memories and triggering her cptsd? Hearing about his time travelling in order to save this timeline and mostly her? Boy howdy was she reminded of those Moebius time loops. She refused to talk to him outside of any Scion meetings because she didn’t want to break down and get triggered every single time, instead trying to take care of herself. But her breaking point and the Point of No Return was after fighting Elidibus in his Warrior of Light form.

You’re Not Meant For This Place. Don’t You Dare Grow Here

When Yua learned what Elidibus was, her plan was to defeat him and make sure he returned to the star and rest. Also because a primal being loose is not a good thing as most know by now. Because of her own circumstances and thoughts on death, she thought it was best. It sounded like it was going to go that way…until G’raha did a Very Big Stupid Thing by announcing that he was going to seal Elidibus in the Crystal Tower and make him power it until he is no more. It’s a Very Big Stupid Thing because to Yua, it’s absolutely cruel to force someone that shouldn’t stay to be used as a battery. Not only that but saying that he was going to trap the ascian made her flashback back to her own trapped life in her dungeon back in Liminal. She refused to let it happen and she tried to stop him but unfortunately, G’raha was quicker and casted Break on her. It lasted long enough for Yua to witness Elidibus being trapped and the one responsible still standing. Well, close enough since the magic ended up costing his body to rapidly turn to crystal. Seeing the horror and pain in Yua’s eyes, he tried to speak up but he only got a look of pure disgust and silence. This was the final straw for her as she felt a deep ache, a familiar gnawing at her soul…a numbness. She had witnessed G’raha Tia at his worst and Yua was not going to answer to him at all. Instead, she turned her back to him, quite literally and left him to turn to crystal all alone. Yua in pain could only think of one thing even in silence:

Suffer.

Yua’s heart grew cold that moment and the Scions noticed quickly when Lyna handed her G’raha’s crystal vessel and asked her to keep it safe on the journey home. Yua in turn responded bluntly and with venom that if she didn’t have a soft spot and cared about Lyna, she’d smash the damn thing. It was looking into Yua’s eyes that made Lyna not say anything, seeing the pain…seeing the light dim. His actions made Yua relive her fears, her worst moments and how could she talk to the Scions about them when they never knew she was from another universe? The only one who had any inkling was Krile and that was more of a forced thing back in Eureka. 

Once everyone was back on the Source, Yua simply left G’raha’s crystal vessel to Krile and told her to do what she wished with it. She was going to take no part of what happened next and she was right. She didn’t want to see the face of the man who kept hurting her, even in the name of the greater good. It was bullshit and Yua would have shut herself in her house if it wasn’t for someone she had met while exploring Rabanastre and learning about Ivalice: Misija. Instead of the MSQ during 5.4 and 5.5, Yua was in Bozja helping Misija with understanding her ancestor’s role and to stop Misija’s former legion comrades from taking over. Didn’t mean they cared about the resistance but they had to work with them for their goals. It was during this campaign that Yua became more brutal on the battlefield, including breaking limbs of several Bozjan Resistance members who were nobles due to overhearing them belittle Misija and her origins. The other resistance members feared her but said nothing because this was the Warrior of Light and who knows what would happen if anyone pissed her off. Let’s just say thank god that Yua had both Misija and Estinien in her corner to pull her out of that despair.

It was because of them that Yua finally managed to gather her courage to do two things:

-Tell the Scions that she was Not Okay

-Challenge G’raha to a brawl

That second one is what I’m going to focus on for this since it does involve him. This may have sounded like something Yua shouldn’t do but she realized that using her words wasn’t going to be enough; sometimes you have to beat up a simp hard enough so they have to listen. And that’s what she did, even as he refused at first. But Yua wasn’t going to let him go until they settled things. No, she was going to make sure he sees and hears what she has to say. What happened was constant fighting back and forth with both weapons and words, both of them saying what they felt was right. G’raha tells her that he had no purpose, no hope, and did everything to make sure that the Source and the First wouldn’t fall and kill more people. That his life had no meaning and sacrificing himself would have been the best call. Only for Yua to tell him that she wouldn’t have seen him as such. Heroic sacrifices to her are never heroic nor are they noble; it’s just something to make the person feel good before they become food for the worms. Besides, if she can’t die, he gets no pass to fucking give up because of depression. 

After all, she’s had thoughts of wanting to end it all. She’s gone through so many horrors and yet people expect her to grin and bear it. She’s the fucking hero after all, a godsdamned IDOL. Who the hells does this pathetic man think he is?! And she tells him that she will never forgive him for what he’s done to her. She would leave the Scions if it came to it because fuck being in the same space as the man who hurt her and being told to smile and nod and be happy.

No. 

Fuck. That.

After this, G’raha does leave the story and stays as a Scion in the field. Yua never sees him again. Although I can’t say the same for other characters but that’s for another time.

I’ve constantly fought with myself since Endwalker’s release to figure out what kind of relationship would Yua and G’raha have. Would I follow canon? Would Yua be able to forgive him? Could they be civil? But the more people asked me about her story and seeing a lot of wolqotds on Twitter about the themes of their WoLs, I kept answering that Yua’s main theme was about Healing. Not really in the physical sense but rather her being able to open up about her traumas, being able to speak about her fears and make connections again like she did as a teenager. There’s no cure to CPTSD but having a good support system might help her in the right direction. I bet some who are reading this might be asking about forgiveness being needed to heal and move on. That in order to love, one needs to let go and forgive the one who wronged them. However, this is Yua’s story and in her case, she doesn’t need it. Forgiveness is earned and it’s not up to the person who wronged her but up to Yua. Being unable to forgive is not an evil thing. She has moved on and is slowly letting go of the pain G’raha caused by being able to talk about it and express her own feelings. She takes what she has learned and tries to do the things like communicate with people about her thoughts and feelings.

Yua feels loved with her group of friends and loves and small family. She felt seen and heard and not given empty reassurances. She didn’t need to forgive someone who has hurt her to move on and feel like a person again. Someone does not need to forgive the people who have hurt them in order to move on and live a better life. Healing also means doing what is best for the person, including self-love and not offering forgiveness. And it’s something Yua is finally able to do.

[artificialqueens]

🏳️‍🌈 Your Best American Girl (Gia Gunn/Laganja Estranja) - Lita 

Summary: Life on the road is fucking lonely, and Laganja thinks it’s killing her. Gia is adrift in a foreign country, trying and failing to stake out a career. Friendship can be found in the unlikeliest of places - namely a high school gym in Delaware. Femme Fatale Wrestling AU. 

A/N: This is essentially the Pretty Dope origin story that I’ve been sitting on half-finished for months. This is set five or six years before the main story iirc, while Gia and Ganja are still working on the indie circuit before getting signed by Femme Fatale. I love these morons and put way too much thought into their respective backstories, and I wish they got less villain-coded airtime in the main story (which won’t be the case for much longer, I promise) so this was stupid fun to write. Re: the song from which I lifted the title and lyrics, Your Best American Girl by Mitski has always been Gia/Ganja crack to me - it was written from the POV of struggling to meet eurocentric beauty standards as a woman of colour trying to date white men, but I think it can also read as a trans narrative and the ‘all-American boy’ line really evokes angst and shit about FFW!Laganja for me, so it’s always really inspired me while writing the two of them. Anyway, hope you all enjoy! &lt;3

CW: Transphobia 

Your mother wouldn’t approve

Of how my mother raised me,

But I do, I think I do. 

**** 

There’s something a little disarming about wandering around in a high school after hours. The fluorescent lit hallway leading out of the gymnasium is overbearingly bright and creepily empty. Laganja makes slow, unsteady progress towards the door leading out to the parking lot; one of the wheels of her suitcase fell off while she was trying to get it out of her car earlier, and dragging it around lopsided was proving nothing short of a fucking nightmare.

The show had been far from bad, but she’d just hit her limit - at least it’s only five minutes’ drive to her hotel, maybe fifteen if she goes via McDonald’s like she’s planned. She has a pre-rolled joint in her backpack, and nowhere to be until eleven am the next morning. Then another hours-long drive to the next gig out in the back of beyond, to another shitty match in a shitty school gymnasium or community centre - rinse and repeat. She’d been living out of a suitcase for the better part of a month already, with another two weeks to go before she’d next see the inside of her apartment. She wasn’t at all mad at the payout, but it felt like a lot of work for money she was spending most of on gas and takeout. A little bit of her missed being a ‘real’ athlete - it wasn’t nearly this lonely. 

A lot of her missed it, actually. Back then, she’d had teammates to keep her company, and she didn’t have to pay for her own accommodation. Or travel. Or gear. These days, she’s never a standout - just a replaceable body at the bottom of a card, never in the same place more than once. No foundations, no friends. She misses being treated like she mattered. 

The scandal had died down since last year - she was finding it easier to get gigs, and could look at her social media without having a panic attack - but it didn’t make things much easier. She was just a little less radioactive than she had been after being kicked off the Olympic team. Rebuilding her life was taking time. 

Laganja rounds a corner, still fighting with her suitcase - a loud voice catches her off-guard and she stops dead; ducking behind a row of lockers. It’s a guy’s voice, brash and angry. She doesn’t really want to get herself involved in whatever the fuck this is. At least not until she’s figured out what’s going on. 

“What part of leave me the fuck alone don’t you understand?” 

“Babe, wait-“ A female voice this time; equally loud and a little abrasive, but with a distinct edge of fear that makes Laganja nervous.  

“I’m not your fucking babe- don’t touch me!”

Laganja hears the crash of a body slamming into metal, and winces - craning her neck to peer down the hall. The feminine voice belongs to that Japanese chick she’d worked a match with earlier that night - Gia something? She couldn’t work out at the time whether or not she liked her - she’d stiffed her a little in the ring, and had been pretty closed-off and hard to talk to backstage. Her lip is trembling, and there’s already black streaks of mascara running down her face. The guy has just shoved her into the lockers - pinning her in place with a hand roughly grasped around her shoulder. The other is raised like he’s about to punch her. Laganja’s stomach drops. 

“Look, can’t we figure this out?“ Gia’s voice is shaking.

“There’s nothing to figure out - I’m not a fucking homo, okay? So back the fuck off. I’m leaving.” 

“But my-“

“I don’t give a shit,” he snarls. “Stop following me around like a lost fucking puppy - we’re done.” 

“How the fuck am I gonna get home-“ 

“I don’t care! You fucking lied to me!”

Gia whimpers. Fuck this - Laganja steps out from where she’d been hiding; this feels like it’s about to get ugly, and she can’t just stand around and let that happen. She tries to say something, but the words get stuck in her throat, standing about ten feet away from them as her mouth opens and closes like a guppy, trying to string a sentence together with her fists clenched by her sides. 

Doesn’t matter - the guy sees her there, and his eyes widen. He practically sprints towards the door; shoving it open with his shoulder and letting it slam behind him. Gia crumples against the lockers. As soon as he’s out of eyeshot, Laganja drops her case, making straight for Gia. She’s sitting on the ground; hugging her knees and crying. Laganja crouches down at her side. 

“Oh my god, are you okay?” 

She looks up, sniffing a little. She’s still wearing her ring gear, a black and red high-necked two-piece, with an oversized hoodie shrugged over the top.

“I’m fine,” she murmurs, avoiding eye contact with Laganja as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“Is he-“

“Fuck off,” Gia pulls away sharply from the hand that Laganja had placed on her shoulder. 

“I’m sorry - I don’t want to shove my nose into your business or anything, but like…hey, weren’t we in a match together earlier?” 

The brunette gives a nonplussed shrug; pulling out her phone from the pocket of her hoodie and wiping away her running mascara with  the aid of her front camera. Laganja fishes a travel pack of Kleenex out of her backpack and offers it to her. She takes it begrudgingly, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Laganja sits down on the floor next to her, crossing her legs and leaning against the locker. 

“You’re doing a really bad job at fucking off,” Gia observes. 

“I heard most of your conversation - I figured you don’t have a ride home, or anywhere to sleep tonight, and I’m not gonna leave you stranded out here in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. I’m waiting for you to pull your head out of your ass and realise that I’m trying to help you, okay?” 

The brunette cracks half a smile. 

“Bitch.”

“Takes one to know one,” Laganja smirks. “What’s your name?” 

“You seriously did not forget what my name is after an hour-“

“No, I mean your real one.” She gives a bemused laugh. Pro wrestling etiquette is a language she’s still trying to decipher - she’s not sure whether or not that’s something she should have asked, but the question is out there now. There’s probably a stupid made-up word for the question she’d been trying to ask. Shoot name? She thinks that’s maybe it. “Mine’s Lucy, by the way.” 

“It’s still Gia,” she replies, a little thorny. Then: “I’m gonna stick with calling you Laganja, though. That’s funnier.” 

“Thanks,” Ganja rolls her eyes. She turns to Gia, her face turning a little more serious. “So, what’s going on?” 

“With what?” Gia says, her tone half uncertain and half sharply defensive. 

“You know - that guy. Looked pretty bad from where I was standing.”

“Oh, Trey’s my boyfriend. Or well, I guess was. I…” she sighs, chewing over her words a little. “One of the- look, why the fuck am I telling you this?” 

“Because I wanna help,” Laganja replies simply. Gia purses her lips. 

“One of the guys backstage told him something about me that I wasn’t ready to tell him, and he got mad, okay? So it’s basically my fault.” 

“What the fuck could they have told him that made him that mad?” Laganja raises her eyebrows. “None of that was okay.” 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Gia hugs her knees. 

“Listen - I just met you, and after tonight we’re probably never gonna see each other again. Who am I gonna tell? It’s just between us.” Gia doesn’t seem impressed. Laganja offers a hand out to her. “Pinkie swear.”

Gia looks a little wary, hushing her voice and ignoring the childish proffered hand. “I…I’m transgender. I was like, born a guy. It’s not something I wanna make a big deal of, it’s just that-“

Laganja has to hold in a laugh, realising that now might not be the right time. 

“Seriously? Bitch, me too!” 

Gia looks taken aback. 

“Shut up,” she says, shrinking away from Laganja. Fuck. She thinks she’s mocking her. 

“I’m not kidding - honest to god.” Gia eases up a little. “And by the way, wether you told him or not, that doesn’t give him the right to treat you like that.”

Gia doesn’t say anything. 

“I mean it - I’ve dealt with my share of this shit, and there’s no excuse for it. What he said to you was fucking wrong, period. Doesn’t matter how upset he is.” 

“I was gonna tell him - I just didn’t think he’d react like that. Plus like, he was gonna find out eventually.” Gia laughs a little grimly. “I told him I was saving myself for marriage, and I don’t think I was gonna be able to like, keep that up for much longer.” 

Laganja gives a tight-lipped smile, slightly uncomfortable. Not with Gia, with the situation. She hadn’t even attempted dating since she’d come out, and this was exactly why. Too scared of what people would think - or say, or do. After seeing the full, horrendous extent of the first ‘big’ reaction to her transition, it didn’t bear thinking about. Didn’t exactly help that her parents, who she’d been outed to in the midst of the whole scandal, had barely said a word to her since, and her teammates had thrown her to the wolves. 

“Well, he’s a loser who doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Laganja eventually says. She stands up, walking back down the hall to grab her broken suitcase, before returning to Gia and holding a hand out to her. Gia looks perplexed. 

“What are you-?”

“C’mon - I need dinner, and I’m not leaving you here.” 

****

“You want any more?” 

Laganja holds the joint out to Gia - sitting in the passenger seat of her car. The brunette shakes her head, a hint of a laugh in her voice. 

“Nah - I’m good.” 

“You sure?” Laganja takes another drag; trying to talk while holding in smoke. 

“Totally sure - I…you got me really fucking high,” Gia giggles, leaning against the door of the car. She aims a handful of fries for her mouth and misses - dropping most of them into her shirt. 

“I think you needed it, honey,” Laganja smiles, watching Gia trying to pick fries off of her chest with her tongue, like a lizard. She’s loosened up a hell of a lot, Laganja thinks as she flicks ash into the empty Coke can on her dashboard. 

“Yeah,” Gia says airily. “Y’know, you’re the first person I’ve met who’s like, like me. And you’re really fucking cool. I like you.” 

“You’re just saying that because I bought you food and let you smoke my weed.”

“Nah - seriously,” Gia insists - rambling a little, her eyes overly-moist and tinged pink. “I’ve never met another trans girl - I knew that I was one, but you’re like….you’re the first. It’s like we’re fucking unicorns or some shit.” 

Ganja smiles. 

“So, what the fuck is your story, Gia?” 

“What?” Gia giggles, still fighting with her fries. 

“How did you wind up stuck out here, with him? You’re too fucking good in the ring to be working in a high school gym in fucking Delaware.”

“I started training when I was like, eleven,” Gia says, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. Laganja notices her slack jaw, and tries to pick it up off the floor before Gia sees it too. “It’s like, normal in Japan. Both my parents are wrestlers, it was sort of always gonna be my thing.”

“But what are you doing here?”

“It’s part of the training system - we call it a ‘learning excursion’. You get sent to the US for like, a year before you debut on TV back home, learn to speak better English and work different styles or whatever. So I came over when I was nineteen. Then while I was here, I figured out my whole…” she gestures awkwardly at herself. “This, and now I don’t think I can go back home. Well, I could - but I ditched training, so I think my parents will want to kill me, and also I have tits now - I don’t know how they’ll feel about that but I don’t think I want to. So for the last three years, I’ve just been taking whatever shitty gigs I can get, lying to my parents about getting signed to WWE developmental so they think I’m too busy to talk to them, and trying to like…I don’t know. Live.” 

“God.” Laganja grimaces, sucking down the last few puffs that the joint has to offer. 

“Your turn - what’s your damage, Miss Laganja?” 

Laganja squirms a little. She glances into the backseat at the Team USA backpack that she still uses. It feels a little bit like stolen valour. 

“Kinda similar. Not as cool. I was an amateur wrestler - and I was fucking good at it. Like, Olympics good. I was meant to go to London in 2012, but I’d already started hormones and obviously that got flagged up in my drug tests, so I got disqualified and then the news went apeshit about it because it got misreported and people thought I wanted to compete for the women’s team. So I sort of just went and lived under a rock for a year until the shitshow died down, and then started doing this. I’m still pretty new to it.”

“You are really good,” Gia says, kind of aloof like she doesn’t want to be caught giving Ganja real praise. 

“Thanks.” Laganja’s cheeks flush pink. 

“Also that’s fucked up. What happened to you, I mean.” Gia pulls a face. 

“Yeah, but I don’t know what I thought was going to happen. At least this way I can actually be myself.” Laganja shrugs. “And nobody seems to care - real sports it’s all ‘biological advantage’ this, ‘biological advantage’ that, but this is all staged, so nobody gives a shit. And the outfits are better.” She gives a laugh, watching the evening sky shift from deep orange to star-scattered blue through the dirty windshield. “I never wanna see a fucking singlet again.” 

“Tell me about it,” Gia giggles. “It’s like, a whole thing with the Young Lions - the rookie wrestlers back home - that you don’t get to have a distinct look until you graduate. Just black trunks and a shitty haircut.” Gia pulls out her phone, flicking at warp speed through her camera roll and then zooming in on a group picture. She turns the phone to Laganja - it’s filled with the image of a depressed-looking teenage boy with a buzz cut, standing shirtless and shoulder-to-shoulder with a group of similarly uniform but presumably less miserable kids. Laganja’s eyes widen. 

“No fucking way is that you!” She gasps. “That’s insane - you look so different.”

“Thanks, it took a lot of work.” Gia half-laughs. 

“Seriously - you’re like…so much hotter now. It’s not even funny. Your stupid boyfriend doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Shut up - you’re hot.” Gia smiles, her head lolling back. She puts a hand on Laganja’s thigh. Laganja’s skin tingles. 

“And you’re high.” 

“Am not.” Gia flops sideways, her head resting on Laganja’s shoulder. “I’m glad I met you, Ganj. You’re really nice. And really pretty.” 

Laganja blushes again. She doesn’t think anyone has ever called her ‘pretty’ before. She tries to keep her eyes fixed in front of her, like she’s driving, but Gia’s hand is cupping her cheek now - soft fingers brushing against her sweat-misted skin, gazing up at her with hazy brown eyes. When Laganja looks down, Gia inches closer to her - hesitantly pressing their weed-dry lips together. Laganja doesn’t know what she’s doing, but she also doesn’t try to stop her. 

The brunette parts Laganja’s lips with an exploratory tongue, and Laganja - no idea what she’s thinking, no intention of questioning it - lets her, closing her eyes and deepening the kiss, one hand leaving the steering wheel to cup the back of Gia’s head. Gia murmurs softly, and then she pulls away before Laganja has really figured out what’s going on. Once her touch is gone, she kind of misses it. 

Gia is laughing again, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“Sorry. I don’t know what the fuck that was. Guess I am high.” 

“It’s okay. I liked it,” Laganja admits hesitantly. Gia reaches a hand out for hers, clasping them together. “What now? Do you have somewhere to stay tonight?”

“Fuck no,” Gia pulls a face. “And I don’t have anything booked for…” she pauses to think, counting on her fingers. “Fucking ages. I was just tagging along with Trey since most promotions don’t bother booking a women’s match until the last second, but now he’s gone.”

“You can tag along with me,”  Laganja offers. “I’m crashing here tonight and then I’ve got a show in Pittsburgh tomorrow - come along for the ride, I can try and get you on the card.” 

“Sure - if you’re sure.” Gia looks hesitant. 

“Positive. I kinda miss having company. And you’re really cute.”

“No, you.” Gia smiles drowsily. Pulling Laganja closer by the hand she’s holding, Gia tries sloppily to initiate another kiss, and this time Laganja doesn’t hesitate. 

For the first time in months, she doesn’t feel quite so alone. 

****

You’re an all-American boy,

I guess I couldn’t help trying to be

Your best American girl.

Pride Challenge Points: 5331

[musicshylover]

Karube as your boyfriend in high school headcanons

Genre: Fluff

Hello guys! I’m so sorry for not being active for so long! I hope all of you are doing great!! I got really busy because of school but all is good now, I have completed all my assignments for the semester! Yay! That means I will have more time to write now! Thank you for the long wait! Anyways I hope you guys enjoy this headcanon that has been in my draft for awhile now! Feel free to send an ask or leave a comment about how you feel about my stories and if you would like to see me write for another fandom!! ❤️

Karube would probably be those kind of student that is almost always late for class but doesn’t give a damn about it

He is popular in school for getting into fights so no one in school ever dares to go against him

However, unbeknownst to everyone, under his tough facade was a gentle and kind heart

He does not pick on people weaker than him. And this is most likely the reason why he became friends with Arisu and Chota as well, he had saved them from being bullied, and from then, the three would always hang out together

As for you? You were simply a shy and model student in their class that was always minding their own business

The only reason why the both of you even interacted was simply because you were Arisu’s neighbour

Since Karube is close to Arisu, you would often bump into them when the group of 3 went to his house

At the start, you would just nod at each other as a form of acknowledgment

It was until one day when he saved you from a group of drunk guys, which then caused you both to start getting closer

You could still remember that day where you were walking home from school later than usual when a group of drunk guys approached you

You could smell the alcohol that reeks from them and when one of the guy asked you to join them to have some fun, you politely declined and tried to quickly escape the situation

However, he grabbed hold of you arm before you could escape

You were shaking with fear as they started dragging you into a dark alleyway

That was until a hand reached out to pry the guy's hands off you and punched him in the face

It was Karube that saved you.

He had gently pulled you behind him as he fought off the other guys

Karube was strong and managed to fight off the guys but he still sustained some minor injuries

He wiped the blood at the corner of his mouth with his thumb as he watched the guys running away

His glare softened when he turned back to you and saw you trembling on the floor, still traumatized by what happened

He then slowly approached you not wanting to frighten you even more

What he was not expecting was for you to bury your face into his chest when he helped you up. His body tensed as he felt you tighten your hold on his shirt.

When he heard your sobbing voice thanking him for saving you, he would then gently start patting your head

After that encounter, both of you definitely started developing feelings for one another

Karube would notice his feelings for you quite quickly as he couldn't resist looking at you during class and his heart seem to flutter whenever you smiled at him

He would also start trying to be around you more often. He would even ask Arisu and Chota to wait for you as well when they are going to school or walking home

He would probably tell them what happened that night and claim to his friends that he was just being a good classmate and looking out for you

However, his friends could already tell that he likes you because whenever he looks at you, they would totally see the heart eyes from him

They would probably tease him and try to set the both of you up

It would probably take awhile for Karube to actually confess to you because you were such a good person. Regardless of how he seems in front of others, this boy does get insecure as he felt like he didn't deserve you because he is known as one of those students that is popular for getting into trouble

It was until you actually built up the courage to confess to him, then he started to feel more confident

As your boyfriend, Karube would definitely be very protective and would want to be close to you as often as he can

But don't worry, he does understand that you need your personal space so he wouldn't force you to stay by his side all day

The news of both of you dating would spread around the school rather quickly as Karube doesn't really try to hide your relationship

He does not care what other people say so he would hold your hands even in school and doesn't even try to hide his affections for you

And now everybody knows who your boyfriend is, nobody would dare to make fun of you or go against you

You would probably be the one helping him and his friends study but much to your annoyance, your boyfriend seem to get distracted whenever you try to explain something to him

Instead of looking at the questions he got wrong, he would be looking at your face when you were trying your best to correct his mistakes

But could you blame him? You just look so cute and those lips of yours looked so kissable so he can't resist himself

And by the time you realise he was not paying attention and tried to scold him, he would already be leaning in to press his lips against yours

He is too irresistible so you ended up kissing him back everytime

All in all, he is a wonderful boyfriend that would do anything to make you happy

Please love him with all your heart!! (｡♥‿♥｡)

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Hello! Your works are lovely ☺️ Thank you for your hard work!!!! 💕 If your requests are open, how about Ganyu, Ayaka and Ei reacting to Reader surprising them with breakfast in bed on their one free day from their duties? Thank you!

Them surprising you with breakfast in bed

characters: Ganyu/Ayaka/Ei x gn!reader (seperate)

warnings: english is not my first language yada yada

a/n: Thanks for your nice words and your request. I wrote the Ganyu part as Ganyu having a free day from her duties instead of the reader since I thought that it made more sense, so I hope that's okay with you. If not, just say so and I'll try writing it as you wanted. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Ganyu

Ganyu having a free day wasn’t something that happened often. It wasn’t as if the Qixing wouldn’t allow her, instead she didn’t allow it herself. Always fearing that she wouldn’t be welcomed in Liyue anymore, if she didn’t work hard all the time. And so it wasn’t uncommon to see her sitting on her desk while looking as if she would fall asleep if she just blinked for a moment to long. And so it was your responsibility to drag her out of there. Ningguang had already accepted your request to give Ganyu the next day off, so it was just a matter of keeping her from even touching a single paper.

If it weren’t for the sun you could have slept for days on end, but as you turned around to face the other direction and wanted to hug Ganyu, who ought to lie next to you as she had a day off, you realised that she wasn’t there. Your eyes instantly shot open and scanned the room and when you saw no clues on were she could be, you readied yourself to march to her office and drag her out of there once again.

But just as you wanted to stand up, the door opened and Ganyu entered the room with a tray with breakfast on it. The two of you locked eyes, the half-qilin looking at you confused and you returning the favour.

“Is something the matter?”, she asked. You responded with a shake of your head and Ganyu slowly approached. When she reached the bed, she handed you the food and then sat next to you.

“You didn’t have to do this for me. I asked for you to get a day off so you could wake up late”, you said while looking at the food. It looked delicious and you were grateful, but at the same time it felt as if you were the one supposed to surprise her with breakfast.

“You always take care of me and ensure that I eat enough or take breaks once in a while, so I wanted to thank you. So let me be direct. Thank you for caring about me”, she looked down in an attempt to hide her face, but you could clearly see her blush. Without you even realising your lips formed a big smile and you reached to hold her hand.

“Okay, but promise me you won’t even lift a finger today. It’s your day off, so I’ll do everything. Doesn’t matter how insignificant the task. And don’t even think about objecting”, you stated.

Ayaka

You worked for Mister Ayato, which meant that there was always work to do. Something which Ayaka knew all to well. But she also was aware of the importance of taking breaks, something you obviously didn’t. It required an intervention of her, Thoma and some of your co-workers to take you some days off. They even stationed a guard in front of your and Ayakas room to prevent you from sneaking out in the middle of night.

You woke up in darkness. The curtains had been pulled shut, to prevent even a single sunbeam from entering the room, since it probably would have woken you up. When you looked next to you, Ayaka was already gone. Ironic, you thought since it was her that wanted you to sleep longer, something which she seemingly didn’t allow herself.

Just when you had decided that you have lied long enough and wanted to finally stand up, the doors slowly opened and Ayaka walked into the room. In her hands she held a plate with some food you didn’t recognize.

“Good morning. I hope I didn’t wake you up”, she greeted with her usual polite smile. When she finally stood right in front of you, she handed you the food.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t. What’s that if I may ask?”, you responded while looking at the circular food. You may not wander the streets of Inazuma often, but you could swear you’ve never seen it before.

“Oh, it’s called a pizza. The traveller showed it to me, since it isn’t from Inazuma. It may not be intended as breakfast, but I wanted to try making it for you. I hope you like it”, she said and intensely watched you take a bite out of it.

“It’s delicious, do you want a slice?”, you asked and offered her some, but she politely declined.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s not good to eat in bed”, she reasoned which left you a little bit confused.

“But I’m eating in bed”, you stated and suddenly became self-conscious about making it even a little bit dirty.

“Yes, but it’s your day off. So I’m sure no one will complain. Oh and before I forget. There’s a small festival today, so if you want to attend it I’ll gladly accompany you”, Ayaka informed you, almost seeming a little bit too exited about the prospects of attending a festival with you. Something told you that you wouldn’t be lying around for much on your free day.

Ei

The Archon of Inazuma spent most of her time in her Plain of Euthymia, so when she finally left it again, you dragged her through all the stores and showed her all the new things you wanted her to see. Occasionally you had to bribe her with some sweets, but that was a small price to pay if it meant you could spent the day with her. At the end of the day, when you went to sleep, she accompanied you. Even though she didn’t sleep herself, but just sharing a bed with her made you feel a lot happier.

When you woke up the next morning you were surprised to see that Ei had left. You understood, since it probably got really boring lying next to a sleeping person for such a long time. But you decided to remain in bed and wait for her to come back, since she wouldn’t be that far away. You doubted she went back to her little pocket dimension without telling you, since she already knew you would scold her for something like that.

And your assessment proved right as after some time, the door opened and Ei entered the room. What did surprise you was the food she had in her hands. Was this really your girlfriend or where you still dreaming?

“You are looking surprised, is something the matter?”, she asked while looking confused. It was just when she noticed you glancing between her face and the food in her hand, that she understood your reaction.

“Before you ask, this was made by the chef. I can do everything, but don’t expect me to cook”, she stated almost sounding a little bit offended. You couldn’t pinpoint if it was disappointment or relieve that you felt.

“Thanks Ei, how did I deserve to be brought breakfast to bed?”, you asked innocently, choosing to ignore the previous situation.

“See this as repayment for all those sweets from yesterday”, she said before handing you the food and sitting next to you.

Ei may not be the best in cooking, but she certainly knew how to make you happy

[bmodiwrites]

You're A Rich Girl

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: Explicit (E) Notes: I thought about accidental sugar daddy Eddie & couldn't get it out of my head once it was there. I hope you guys don't mind a swift little change in pace! Word Count: ~8K Warnings: There’s a tiny bit of smut in here, but it’s me writing, so when is that not the case? Other than that, it’s pretty tame! Summary:

After an unfortunate mishap with a childhood friend leads to a silent but cutting fight with his father, Steve cuts his loses and heads to the city with Robin in tow. It's there that Steve meets Eddie Munson, who is older and mysterious and too adorable for his own good. While their relationship develops, concerns and what seems like envy come into play. Read to find out what happens when the look of their relationship from the outside is brought up. When there's money involved, is anything actually what it seems?

Or - an accidental sugar daddy Eddie fic!

Read it on AO3 here

His path to the music store is slow and steady. He’s so used to the snail-like nature of Hawkins that city life is still something that catches Steve off guard. People move around him so fast that it’s hard to keep up. After being there for a few months, Steve’s decided that he’s going to keep on moseying from one place to the next – he refuses to pick up the pace just to appease the crowd around him. If nothing else, he’s determined not to get sucked up into the hustle and bustle of always having somewhere to be. Hawkins wasn’t always the best to him but Steve’s at least glad to have learned that seemingly important lesson. His thoughts are heavy and distracting to the point that Steve is surprised to find himself outside the record store. He’s unsure of where the time went but happy to be grabbing ahold of the unique brass nob that grants him entry to Steve’s own version of heaven.

Walking in, Steve takes a long breath. There’s nothing like the smell of old records. He lets the nostalgia of flipping through his collection at home settle over him. The warmth in his chest that bubbles up is one of the main reasons Steve likes this place – for some reason, he feels the most at home amongst the dusty vinyl. Beelining towards the stacks, Steve lets himself get lost in all of the music. Every now and again he picks out a record to take to the small turntable in the back. He plugs in the headphones and gets lost in his own little world for a while. He’s halfway through a Tears for Fears album doing exactly that when his focus all of the sudden changes with a small touch. Steve doesn’t know how important that tap on the shoulder is but his breath catches anyway. The person on the other side of the gesture is beautiful and unique and saying something that Steve definitely can’t hear.

Steve’s quick to yank off the headphones to give the gorgeous man before him his utmost attention. He manages to catch the tail end of a mumbled question, though he’s distracted enough to say “come again?” in an absent voice. It’s been a while since Steve’s been struck speechless – Nancy Wheeler seems like some sort of distant dream now that the world’s shifting on its axis again.

“I asked what album you were listening to – you looked so blissed out and in your own world, I had to find out what musical creation made you that way.” The man blushes as he speaks – the red only works to highlight the rich brown of wide eyes that Steve can’t seem to look away from. They’re hypnotizing, almost like they’re dragging Steve in the longer they look at each other. Steve’s still not functioning well because it takes a rugged smirk on the stranger’s face to jumpstart him back into gear.

“Oh, uh – it’s Tears for Fears. Their Songs from the Big Chair album.” To drive home the point, Steve picks up the dust cover and wiggles it suggestively. “It’s too expensive for me to take home so I get my fix while I’m here.” Steve’s not really sure why he says that, though the words practically fall out of his mouth easily enough. He’s unused to sharing that much of himself after months of bottling every thought, feeling, and fear up and stashing them away to never be dealt with ever again. For some reason, the brunette stranger in front of him makes something within Steve uncoil. He tries not to dwell on it as the man’s smirk turns into a genuine smile.

“I should have known you’d be an Everyone Wants to Rule the World kind of guy.” The man’s voice is rich and confident, filled to the top with something Steve wants so badly to cling to. “You can’t account for taste.”

[bakuhoes-dumbass]

Aberration - Chapter 1

MHA!Various x Fem!Reader

Thriller/Horror/Drama

Criminal!AU

Words: 2.3k

A/N: Yay, here’s the first chapter of my new AU! It might be a little slower at first but it’ll pick up the further we get into it. So I hope you like this!

Warnings: Yandere Themes, Mentions of murder, blood, felonies, bullying, swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of MHA, just this story. In no way does this reflect the characters, writers or VAs of the show/manga. MINORS DNI.

~~~

Aberration Masterlist/Character profiles

~~~

In this world, mutations, renamed as ‘Quirks’, are abnormal. Only about 5%-8% of the world population are known to have these so called ‘Quirks’. You are a graduate of one of the most prestigious science tech schools in the country. You’ve been selected to work for a secret scientific research facility that houses some of the most notorious criminals in the nation. Besides their crimes, what makes these individuals incredibly dangerous are their mutations. After meeting these individuals, they seem to have taking a liking to you. That should make your research and search for the cure all that much easier…

Right?

~~~

Before you stands one of the largest facilities you have ever seen. You take a deep breath, attempting to calm your rapidly beating heart. Adjusting the strap on your bag, you make your way into the research center.

Upon entering, you gasp in wonder. The inside is huge, tall pure white walls that meet at a double paned glass ceiling. In front of you is a wall of security, stretching to accommodate the vast interior of the lobby. You walk up to the nearest security officer and give them your information. Thankfully, you were on a list and after checking you over, you're granted entrance to the building.

That's where you meet a man and a woman, both dressed in white lab coats and carrying clipboards. You bow your head to the two of them and they return the gesture.

"Ms. Y/N, I presume? My name is Shota Aizawa and this is my assistant, Momo Yaoyorozu." The older of the two speak.

You smile at the two. "Yes, nice to meet you. I'm Y/N, L/N, graduate of UA science tech. I am so happy to be here and look forward to working with the two of you."

The younger girl nods and smiles, gesturing behind the two of them. "If you would kindly follow us, we can get started."

~~~

"Ms. Y/N, here's the list of the inmates you will be working with from this point on."

Momo hands you a clipboard containing pictures and descriptions of each individual. Your eyes scan the information on the page in front of you, your brow raising with each word you read. "There is… quite a bit of information on these individuals."

Aizawa nods. "Considering how dangerous the subjects are, it's best to have every detail we can."

You internally cringed at the term 'subject'. These were criminals, yes, but they were still living breathing people. Noone deserves to be dehumanized, no matter the reason.

Shaking your head of those thoughts, you continue to look over the notes in your hands. One in particular catches your eye. " 'Multiple counts of 3rd degree murder by reason of insanity' and yet he's only deemed as a level 4 danger?"

The doctor looks over your shoulder at the character profile. "Ah, yes. Fumikage Tokoyami. He's an interesting one, to say the least." You wait for him to continue, but seeing as it doesn't seem like he will, you gesture for him to elaborate. "Tokoyami himself is actually fairly harmless and incredibly cooperating, which is why he gets a level 4 only. However…" Aizawa looks down the hall of the facility to a door near the end. "Dark Shadow is deemed a level 9."

Your eyes shoot up in shock. "Dark Shadow? A level 9? Explain."

"Dark Shadow is his mutation. It's a completely sentient being that he harbors inside of him. Highly dangerous, more so if there is darkness." He looks back at you. "I'll let him explain the reason why he was instituted. He always prefers to explain the story himself."

The more Aizawa explains Tokoyami's situation, the more your excitement builds up, wanting desperately to meet this man. This was such an interesting mutation and you couldn't wait to hear everything he had to tell you. You take a breath to calm your childish manner and clear your throat.

"If it's alright with you, sir, I'd like-" You look down at your clipboard once again. "'Inmate 06' to be the first one I meet with."

Aizawa nods and writes something down in his notebook. "Very well. Follow me this way please."

You follow the doctor down the long white hallway, your excitement growing with each step. Along the way, you notice each door on the facility that lines either side of the stretched hall. Each door had a narrow window towards the top and a small number engraved underneath. You don't take too much notice and keep following the doctor to your destination. However, an eerie feeling makes you freeze in your tracks.

You slowly rotate your head and look at the inmate's door you stopped next to. The color drains from your face as you see two ice blue eyes peering right into yours. It felt like your breath was stolen, a hint of fear and anxiety built up within you from this intense gaze. After what felt like hours, you snap your gaze back to Aizawa and Momo, who were standing in front of a door you were also supposed to be at.

"I would highly advise you to keep cautious while you are in this facility. While we keep all inmates in cuffs that neutralize their mutations, the technology has not been 100% perfected yet and parts of their powers may leak out. That is why we have additional precautionary measures in place for each inmate." Aizawa gives you an impartial look as you walk over. "Now. The only special precaution with Inmate 06 is the lights must stay on at all times. There are no light switches in his cell, so nothing should go wrong. But like I said, always stay cautious."

You nod your head at the doctor's words and turn to face the door. Aizawa places a hand onto the keypad next to the door, scanning his prints before buzzing and opening the door. You give the man one last nod before making your way inside the room. The room itself is bare. White floors, white walls and an equally white ceiling. Nothing was in there except a desk with a chair and a bed.

On top of that bed sat a young man with the body of a human and the head of a crow. Your eyes widen in awe at the beautiful being in front of you. Tokoyami tilts his head and gives you a curious look.

"Oh. Hello, there. I've never seen you before."

The deep voice of the man shocks you. You bow your head and give the bird man a smile. "Hello, Tokoyami. My name is Y/N. I'm the new scientist at this facility. I'm here to get to know and observe you all to help further our findings for a cure. I hope we can be friends."

Tokoyami blinks. "You want to be… friends? With us?"

"Yeah, of course. Why not?" Your smile never leaves your face.

"Well, maybe because we're all… felons? The greater majority of us being murderers?"

"I truly believe everyone deserves a second chance." You gesture to the desk chair, silently asking if you could sit. The man nods and you greatly take your seat. "Now, would you ever be so kind as to answer a few questions for me, Tokoyami? I would like to get to know you a little better." You take out your pen and notebook, opening to a fresh page.

Tokoyami nods again and you give him a smile. "Just a few standard questions first. Can you please state your full name, age and date of birth?"

"Fumikage Tokoyami, age 22, October 30th."

"What is the name of your quirk and how does it work?"

Tokoyami fiddles with the quirk-cancelling cuffs around his wrists at the mention of his quirk but answers anyway. "It's called Dark Shadow. It's a fully sentient shadow that resides inside my body. It can come out when I call call it or it can show itself on it's own. But it's always connected to me and cannot be separated. It…" Tokoyami takes a breath. "It gets stronger the darker my surroundings are. So the less light, the less control I have over it. If it gets too dark, it completely takes over me, no longer under my control."

The longer you listen to him, the wider your eyes get and the more they shine in wonder. "That is incredible! To have that kind of quirk is truly fascinating!"

Hearing your words of praise would have made Tokoyami blush, if he could. He clears his throat in embarrassment. "Why, thank you for those kind words. Though, I doubt having this...quirk, as you say, is all to be impressed about."

You shake your head. "You may not think so, but really, I've never seen anything like it." You excitedly write a few things down before making eye contact with him again. "Now onto my final question of the day. Can you please tell me the reason why you are here?"

Tokoyami stays silent for a moment, staring at nothing in particular, residing in his thoughts. You clear your throat and he looks up to you. You give him a small, comforting smile and it causes Tokoyami's heart to beat harder. For some unknown reason, he suddenly feels like he can trust you with anything.

"I've been charged with multiple counts of 3rd degree murder." He sighs, recalling that day. "I was invited to a college party on a date, by someone whom I had grown quite infatuated with. I never really was one to socialize and never really had any friends. But I really liked this person, so I went. At first it was going okay, nothing too out of the ordinary. Then, the host decided that playing truth or dare was the way to go.

 So my date dragged me to sit down and join them. Every time I was asked, I always chose truth. And everytime, their questions were about my appearance, my mutation. Laughing at all my answers, mocking my looks, talking about how unnatural I was. The more they asked, the more my anxiety and anger built up. But my stubbornness didn't want to show any weakness, so I stayed. 

Finally, I decided to just choose dare instead. At that point, I decided that nothing could be more humiliating than what they've already done." His sharp, red eyes flickered to yours. "Oh, how wrong I was. They dared me to go into the closet with my so-called 'date'. We were shut in and from then, they decided to tell me how this whole thing was a set up, just to humiliate me. That anyone with mutations like myself should just disappear because of how disgusting we are." He spits out that word like it was rotten food. "Remember how I said Dark Shadow gains control in the dark? Well, with my anger rising and the fact that it was almost pitch black in that closet, I lost control of myself and Dark Shadow took control of me. Next thing I remember, I was standing in the middle of the college dorm party, blood painting the floors, the walls, and the entirety of my class slaughtered."

You almost dropped your pen in shock but regained your composure. You give the poor young man a sad smile. He sighs and finishes off his explanation. "I was arrested and charged with multiple counts of 3rd degree murder by reason of insanity, considering I was technically not in my right state of mind at the time."

The two of you sit there in silence, basking in all this new-found information. You close your notebook and set your pen down, facing Tokoyami directly. "Listen to me. There is nothing wrong with the way you look or your quirk. Just because it isn't the societal norm, doesn't mean it's disgusting or wrong. Remember that."

Tokoyami blinks in surprise."Um, thank you." Those were the only words he could say, as how shocked he was at what you said.

You tilt your head and stare at him. "If I may ask, would I be able to feel your head? I'm very curious as to what your feathers feel like. It would greatly help my research as well."

"Oh. U-um, yeah. Sure."

You move to gently sit next to Tokoyami, so as to not startle him too much. You slowly lift your hand and place it on his head, eyes lighting up as you card your fingers through his feathers. "Oh wow, they're so soft!"

Tokoyami's heart speeds up, his feathers ruffling at your touch. He gazes at you with something akin to admiration. No one was ever gentle with him like this before. After another few seconds, you retreat your hand, Tokoyami almost whimpering at the absence.

"Well, I better get going. I have quite a few more things to do today before my shift is over." You gather up your things and bow your head at the half bird boy. "I greatly appreciate your time and look forward to our future sessions. Have a good rest of your day!" You smile at Tokoyami before heading back to the door and signaling Aizawa to open it.

"Goodbye, Ms. Y/N. I look forward to meeting with you again." Tokoyami watches you leave his room. Once you're gone, he runs his hand through his feathers, imagining they were your fingers.

As the door closes, you turn to Aizawa who gives you a disappointed look.

"What?"

"You touched the inmate. Why in the hell would you do that?"

You place your hand on your hip and give the doctor a stern look. "I was curious about his mutation and wanted to see how it felt."

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. "We try to avoid any physical contact with any of the inmates, as it may trigger something deep within them. Remember, Y/N. Every single one of these individuals are dangerous and unstable. Any abnormal behavior could result in catastrophic consequences."

You sigh and shake your head, giving him a chaste nod. "Yes, Sir. You're right. I promise to heed your warning and modify how I work."

The doctor looks satisfied as he turns on his heel and walks further down the long hallway. You quickly follow to keep up. "Now, on to your next subject. Inmate 04, Eijiro Kirishima." You flip the page of your inmate profiles to see a picture of a red-haired man. "He is of a higher danger level, so make sure to keep your guard up. And for the love of God, under any circumstances…

Do not touch him."

~~~

Taglist: @theblueslytherin @sterassion @somechick30003 @meena-in-a-nutshell @justtj-andnonumberspls @zombieonna @amajikiwife @yulifee @atexansadventureintokinkandlife @ep-ip-ha-ny @hcneymilkks @pastelmoonwitche @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @railmeddy @unlimitedfirepheonix @confaegion @drownedbytears @burntcrips @silverqueenie @the-lady-writes-what @awkward-confused 

[If your name is bolded, I was unable to tag you.]

[lxvislxdy]

Lock and Key | Bakugou K.

Summary: It all started out as a harmless prank - Denki’s idea, to get the two of you to talk. It was no secret that you had feelings for Bakugou Katsuki, at least, not amongst your friends. Denki had meant well, sure, when he’d handcuffed the two of you together, but when the key goes missing... well, let’s just say, it’s gonna be a long 24 hours.

Pairings: Bakugou Katsuki x reader

Warning(s): Swearing, that should be it

Notes: Reminder that my requests are open! Let me know what you’d like to see on my page! Hope you enjoy this cute little fic for Bakugou :) I just wanted to write something soft and lighthearted, and cute, so this is that.

You were going to kill Denki. That is, if Bakugou didn’t get to him first.

“Calm down, Bakubro! Murdering one of our classmates would not be very manly of you!”

And if it wasn’t for Kirishima, holding Bakugou back with all of his strength and giving you a sympathetic look as you were dragged along, Denki would’ve been toast. Literally. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry!” Denki was saying, hiding behind Mina and Sero, “It’s just a prank, dude, a joke! Don’t kill me!” 

“I’m gonna end you, spark plug!” Bakugou growled, “Get over here and get this shit off of me!”

Sero, barely holding back his laughter, said, “Aw, come on, Bakugou, I wouldn’t call y/n ‘shit’!”

For a moment, Bakugou blinks like he’s stunned, but then his murderous glare returns ten fold. “That’s... That’s not even what I meant, dunce face! I meant the handcuffs! Get. Them. OFF!”

You know, from the look Mina is sending you, that you’re blushing. 

“Okay!” Kaminari scrambles out from behind the two, smiling sheepishly as he searches all his pockets, “No worries, man, let me just... let me... get the... key...”

Bakugou finally settles down, and you breathe a sigh of relief as he drops his hand, yours falling with it. You rub at your wrist lightly, eyebrows drawn together. You’d been handcuffed to Bakugou for almost ten minutes now, and your wrist was already sore from being yanked around so much. 

“What’s taking so long, dunce face?” Bakugou grumbles.

“Well, you see, uhm... okay, listen, don’t be... don’t be mad, bro, just...” Kaminari laughs, eyes wide in fear, voice dropping so low you could hardly hear him, “I can’t exactly find it.”

You yelp in surprise as Bakugou activates his quirk, feeling the heat against the back of your hand. 

“What did you say?!” 

Everyone winces as he yells, face almost as red as Kirishima’s hair. 

“Careful, dude, don’t burn her!” Kirishima says, hand on Bakugou’s shoulder. 

Bakugou shoves him off, but listens to him nonetheless, and the heat subsides. 

“It’s okay, Kiri, I’m fine.” You tell him quietly. 

“Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Denki says, guiltily. 

“Yeah, you’re about to be real sorry.” Bakugou says, “If you don’t get these off in the next five seconds!”

“Look, let’s just calm down for a minute, okay?” You say, stepping between the two. You feel Bakugou’s arm tug back against yours, as you move farther away from him, and your blush deepens. “Sorry. Anyway... why don’t we just see if Momo can make an extra key? Right?"

“That’s a good idea!” Kirishima says, optimistically. “See? Everything’s fine.”

“Yeah, why didn’t I think of that?” Kaminari scratches his head.

“Because you’re an idiot.” Bakugou mutters darkly.

Mina purses her lips, shifting back and forth on the balls of her feet. “Yeah, that would be great... Except Momo is visiting her parents, and won’t be back till later tonight.”

And just like that, Bakugou explodes again. “WHAT?!”

...

After a stressful call with Momo, involving Bakugou taking the phone from Mina not once, but twice, and telling her to ‘get her and her stupid ass ponytail back to UA NOW!’, it’s finally decided that you’ll just have to wait it out. Even Bakugou can’t say he’d rather go to Aizawa, because explaining this meant explaining the handprint shaped burns in Denki’s door.

Of course, Momo promises to help as soon as she’s back, but that’s still hours and hours away. 

Bakugou, who still practically had steam coming out of his ears, sat beside you on the couch silently. Across from you, the rest of the group watched in sympathy (and fear). No one dared to break the silence, in fear he’d blow up on them again. You couldn’t say you blamed them. 

“Come on.” Bakugou’s sudden command startles you.

“What? Where are we going?” You ask, following his lead and standing up (you were getting dragged along, either way). 

He rolls his eyes, sighing, “I don’t know, but I’m not just gonna sit around like an idiot all day.”

He doesn’t wait for your response, marching out of the room. You look over your shoulder on your way out, a silent cry for help, and Denki has the audacity to give you a thumbs up and wink. You glare at him, sending your friends into a laughing fit.

“What are they laughing at?” Bakugou mutters, brow raised.

You flush in embarrassment, shrugging. “Dunno.”

The two of you eventually end up in the kitchen. You knew Bakugou could cook, everyone did because he regularly kicked everyone out of the kitchen so he could, but you’d never actually seen him in action. He was much calmer now that the two of you were alone, but the scowl never left his face. 

After a few minutes of awkwardly trailing behind him as he gathered ingredients, you mustered up the courage to ask, “Can I help?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, and you begin to think he’ll just ignore you, before he’s handing you a spoon. “You stir while I chop vegetables. I don’t trust you with a knife.”

Ignoring the backhanded comment, you take the spoon from him, happy he’s letting you help. You stir with one hand, resting the other on the counter beside him, so he can use both hands to chop the vegetables. It’s not easy, trying to cook while handcuffed to the angry blonde, but the two of you eventually find a rhythm. 

“So what are you making?” You ask, turning to look at him. His focus is all on what he’s doing, and he looks so serious you try your best not to giggle. Does Bakugou ever just... relax? Still, the way his lower lip just barely juts out and his brow furrows, when he concentrates hard, is really cute.

“We’re making zosui.” 

You’re heart does a little flip as he says ‘we’. He doesn’t mean anything by it, you know that, but you still have to turn away in an attempt to hide your smile. As mad as you were at Denki, you had to admit that being able to actually spend time with Bakugou doing something so... normal, domestic? It was nice. You’d spent an embarrassing amount of time daydreaming about a moment like this (except, in your daydreams, you weren’t handcuffed, and maybe there was kissing involved), but you’d never thought it would actually happen. The only time you got to spend time with him outside of class, normally, was if you asked for help with the homework or agreed to spar. But that was rare, these days. Bakugou normally sparred with Kirishima, anyway, and you always felt like a bother when you asked for help. 

Sneaking another look at Bakugou, you find he’s already looking at you. He takes the spoon from you, gently bumping his hip into yours to move you out of the way, and you watch as he adds the veggies to the soup. As he stirs them in, he asks you to hand him the spices he’d set out beforehand. 

“What, have you never seen someone cook before?” He asks.

You laugh sheepishly, “I ate a lot of microwave dinners growing up.”

The look he gives you is incredulous, borderline angry, and he scoffs. “You’re kidding. That shits terrible for you!” 

You laugh, wrinkling your nose. 

He meets your eyes for a moment, lips parted slightly, and you raise a brow at him. Before you can ask, his attentions is back on the soup, and he’s quiet again.

It doesn’t take long for the soup to be done, then, after he adds the rice. And you have to admit, even though you hadn’t helped much, you do feel a sense of accomplishment when you sit down to eat a meal that you made yourself. 

The two of you sit down beside each other, forced to scoot your chairs so close that your thighs are almost touching. Surprisingly, he doesn’t complain.

“Thank you,” You say quietly, before digging in. “Wow! This is delicious!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He rolls his eyes, but you recognize the slightly smug look on his face. “You helped.”

You giggle, bumping shoulders with him. “Sure, but you’re the chef, here!”

He hid it behind another bite of food, but you could have sworn you saw him smile, too. 

The two of you finish your meal in silence, Bakugou waiting with surprising patience for you to finish eating, before putting the bowls in the sink. 

“Thanks.”

He gives you a look, “For what?”

For being so nice.

“For teaching me how to cook!” 

He shrugs, muttering out ‘whatever’ in reply. 

“So... what do you want to do know?” You ask, hoping his tolerance for your company would last. 

You end up back in his dorm, awkwardly huddled together at the head of his bed. He was reading, as you mindlessly scrolled through your phone. The silence wasn’t awkward, like you’d thought it would be. It was comfortable, almost calming. You found yourself getting tired, the more you sat there. 

Eventually growing bored of your phone, you turned to see what Bakugou was reading, and started reading the pages yourself. You didn’t think he’d noticed, until he slipped his finger behind the next page to turn it, and paused. 

“You done?” He said, quiet and soft, his cheeks tinted the slightest pink. 

Your eyes widened, blushing, “Uh, yeah. S-Sorry.”

He turned the page without another word, looking at you from the corner of his eye. You tried to ignore him, pretending to read, before he sighed. 

And then, Bakugou began to read to you. 

“W-What are you doing?”

He stopped, narrowing his eyes. “Reading, dumbass.” He snapped. “You read slower than me, it’s annoying.”

Despite the backhanded remark, you grinned. “Oh. Okay.” 

He started again, sounding significantly less irritated, and you tried to slow the beating of your heart. In all the times you’d imagined hanging out with Bakugou, you had never thought of something this sweet. You especially hadn’t anticipated his voice ever being this soft, and calming. 

As he read to you, you shifted closer, eventually resting your head on his shoulder. He faltered for a minute, hiding his fumble with a cough, but otherwise didn’t acknowledge it. It wasn’t until he reached the end of the next chapter that he realized you’d fallen asleep. 

And he definitely wasn’t blushing, no, not Bakugou.

Hours later, when Momo and all your friends piled into his room, he whispered harshly, “Wake her up, and I’ll kill you!”

Maybe Denki’s plan had worked out, after all. 

[ballorawan740]

SCP Scenarios: When they accidentally kill you

Requested by: okokok121 + @RitaRoseFromBBB

Main Masterlist | SCP Scenarios Masterlist | My Works Masterlist | Rules | Request | Socials | My Original Post

(Ok, I know you did ask for the doctors + Mikell and Strelnikov, but I've decided to add the SCPs in here if that's alright with you. And also, sorry if I didn't capture Strelnikov's attitude well as I'm not as familiar with him compared to Mikell, yet again I'm not familiar with Jack Bright's family other than TJ and 321)

Sorry if it wasn't up to your standards. I just felt that some of these characters weren't the type to kill the reader, even if it wasn't intentional.

WARNING: Slight Angst

Dr Simon Glass

Simon wouldn't be the one to accidentally kill you himself, but it's more of the situation he put you in without realising the full extent of the consequences. He was just busy writing his patients' reports, and you just strolled in his office to check upon him. Simon stopped what he was doing and smiled with you as you both ate your food in his ever so clean office. As you were about to leave, Glass requested you to deliver something to Jack Bright in which you did. You and Jack were close friends (not so surprising since you're both equally as mad as each other) so if Simon wanted to know where he is or if he needed to give him something, he would go to you first. You managed to deliver the parcel to Bright in 682's containment cell and you both laughed before you returned. Unfortunately, 682 was having a rough day due to being a subject to Bright's test (I would be too tbh) which caused him to become more aggressive than usual and attacked 3 researchers. One of them being you as 682 dragged you down to the acid bath with him and Jack rushed to save you. Bright wasn't able to and he had to fulfil;l his duty to tell Simon Glass that you passed as 682 had killed you during a test. Needless to say, Glass was forced to take time off with Bright due to this event and he became more distant for months to come. Bright had to keep it together just so Simon wouldn't have to lose the shred of sanity he had in him.

Dr Jack Bright

You and Bright were doing some tests on one of the more dangerous SCPs (no, it's not that giant mf lizard of that warrior killing machine) in which your job was to handle these creatures while Jack was doing all the lab stuff. The SCP you both were conducting your research on was ●●|●●●●●|●●|● (SCP 2521 - We're getting ripped tonight, RIP my friends) and you were doing all sorts of things which resulted in you summoning this creature out of the blue by accident. Bright had to drag you out away from the creature and you just stood there observing its behaviour until it noticed you. Jack Bright had to take you on the run yet again (cuz you do be stoopid and stubborn so all yall wanna do is stare at something that's gonna kill ya. JUST RUN BIATCH!!!) but the SCP managed to catch up with you both and snatched you before Bright could even get help. Jack was astonished and deeply depressed since the incident and was left increasingly agitated after every walking day and even Glass couldn't get him out of his shell. He would pretend that everything's fine, but deep down, everyone knows that he's not (that's a whole ass mood right there buddy). Bright was extremely guilty for making you research 2521 and tried to summon it again, but all other scientists stopped it.

Dr Alto Clef

Clef was just doing his job, managing all the Keter class SCPs with ease and without hesitation. You know this from first-hand experience on your very first day on the job 3 years ago and Clef took an interest in you so he took you under his wing. So on this mission, he's on, he wanted to take you with him so you went along (not like you'd say no to this madman anyways right?). It was a breach on one of the sites with a sh- ton of Keter class SCPs and your jobs were to exterminate/neutralise them and save all the other researchers in which your team did do well and were still alive. You on the other hand were killed in action by SCP 939 (NOW WHICH ONE OF YOU IDIOTS RELEASED MY PETS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION?!). Clef wasn't able to save you on time, but he managed to kill 2 of those SCPs. When he got back, he hid in his office and was depressed for 23.3 weeks and when he managed to drag himself out, he was bawling his eyes out. He deeply regretted taking you on a mission with him and swore an oath that if he were to ever take another person under his wing (probs in like 50 years), he would do anything in his power to not take them on a life-threatening mission.

Dr Benjamin Kondraki

You were out with Kondraki, just laying on the grass like you normally do as you just watched Kondraki take photographs of various and random stuff. Not long later, you asked him if he could teach you how to become such an avid photographer like him, so he did. However, little did you and Kondraki know that his butterfly friends felt danger lurking around the area you were in and quickly transformed into a threatening SCP to defend you both. Lurking around the woods were uncontained 939s running loose on the ground in which the booterflies attacked it. One of the red lizards was ready to pounce onto Kondraki to which you ran and pushed him out of the way (BAD DOGGO ))),:<). Luckily he was unharmed, but you, on the other hand, was heavily injured so Kondraki rushed you back to the foundation's medic. You died there shortly after and Kondraki blamed himself for getting you hurt on a harmless visit to the woods for some photographs. Bright and Clef begged Glass to do some psychological evaluation on Kondraki despite him telling them that he needs some time alone before he could do such things.

O5 Council Mikell Bright

When you're with Mikell, he would be his true self, being honest and relaxed since you're his most trusted partner. Moreover, he would tell you everything about what the O5 Council has been doing and their top secrets and you would always keep your lips sealed. The other members are wary of this at first but soon warm up to you since you're one of the most trusted individuals. Being with the cowboy is quite entertaining and you'll be quite protected being with him, so most of the time, you get free reign over the foundation, however, you still had to obey the rules as you weren't exactly a member of the O5 council and that would also help you from making people think you're sus for being treated so differently. That day was one of the days where your freedom got the better of you as you were on a mission with Mikell and he was about to aim at the target until you pushed him out of the way from danger. He quickly gained his composure and tried to shoot the anomaly behind you which he missed and shot you instead. Mikell was in shock and tried to get the medics, but by the time they arrived, you've already passed. Jack had to check up on his brother regularly to see how he's doing and to make sure he doesn't fall off the edge, reminding him that you wouldn't want to see him this way.

Agent Dmitri Arkadeyevich Strelnikov

As an agent, Strelnikov's life and his closest friends and relatives would be on the line. He wouldn't know when, where or how he would die and is in constant fear of losing everyone around him, especially you. One time, he took you on a mission with him since you were trained under him and he felt that you were ready to go onto your first-ever mission (well too bad, it's your last mission since y'all just suck at your jobs and this poor man has to drag you up from hell and y'all just fall back in) and so you guys went and attempted to gain information and track down some SCPs. Dmitri had to save you a few times since you didn't heed his advice and looked behind your back and that one time he left you on your own, you were murdered by a ruthless group from one of the GOIs. This, of course, deeply saddened agent Strelnikov as he was washed away by the guilt he had from leaving you to stand by your own 2 feet. You were a bright and gentle person who always looked up to him, always eager to learn and never want to fail him. These traits are what drew you to him and he was hoping to have you on his team permanently, however, that dream was long gone (just like your non-existent brain cells trying to keep your life together so y'all don't do stupid things) as you were snatched away from him in an instant. He wrote the report once he went back to the foundation and locked himself up for so long the doctors had to get him out (like your guardians whenever you don't wake up in the mornings).

Extras:

SCP 073 (Cain)

You and Cain were strolling around site 17 until a containment breach happened. Cain had to drag you by your arm since you froze (like a deer in headlights XD) and didn't react to anything since you were afraid. Luckily you did manage to get your senses back together and ran with him. Not long later, a Keter class SCP came charging at you and in a panic, Cain pushed you aside without a glance which caused another SCP to kill you since you were blocking the way. He looked over to you to see that you were wounded, lifted you up, and found a medic. Cain blamed himself for not looking carefully and had he done that, you wouldn't be dying. By the time the medic and you both arrived, you were already at the brink of death and when 343 finally arrived, you were long gone. 343 had to calm 073 down from trying to seek revenge once again but he can't due to the overwhelming guilt he had on him. 343 managed to ease his mind a bit which caused him to blackout. The researchers had to put him under their watchlist to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid (like you when you're studying for your important exams).

SCP 076 (Abel)

It was a normal day for you and Abel to hang around until this one mf guard angered Abel to which caused a containment breach. He went on a rampage (you do be here like Hercules! Hercules! XD) in which you had to try and calm him down. By the time you went to the main part of the facility, you saw many of the D-classes and researchers beheaded (like the previous queens in- never mind). When you had found Abel attempting to slaughter a guy, you jumped in front of the victim and by the time Abel realised that you were there, his sword cut you open in half (KO! 10 points to Gryffindor). He was overwhelmed with guilt and anxiety about him killing you by accident and returned to his box as demanded by the MTF members. The scientists noticed a change in Abel's behaviour and never questioned it. Those who knew what had happened never mentioned it in fear of another breach and left him be.

SCP 999 (Tickle Monster)

It was an ideal Saturday night at the foundation. You and our adorable 999 was wandering around the facility minding your own business until some madman came charging into the foundation. The alarm for the breach went on and everyone was confused since there weren't any dangerous SCPs on the loose. As it turns out, it was an intruder from one of the other GOIs trying to kidnap some of the SCPs. You and 999 just so happened to be in the exact same spot as the intruder and was holding a weapon of some sort. Realising what's happening, 999 pushed you out of the way just as the intruder fired her weapon which missed you both. One of the agents caught up with both of you and tried to shoot the intruder but ended up shooting you just as you got up which killed you. 999 never greeted any visitors in his cell ever again for quite some time and the researchers attempted to bribe him but failed.

SCP 682 (Hard to Destroy Reptile)

You were requested to take part in a test with 682 and another Keter class SCP in a test room and your job was to make sure 682 weren't allowed to lash out at the researchers because of this test. However, this certain Keter class SCP has decided that it wants to attack you in which 682 shoved you aside to protect you. The researchers ran in to save you but the other SCP managed to pounce on you and suffocated you to the brink of death. 682 was about to take a chonki bite out of that SCP but instead, he bit you instead, killing you instantly. He regretted every decision he has ever made and never attacked the foundation staff for months.

SCP 049 (Plague Doctor)

This doctor was just minding his own business until some dumbass researchers rushed into his room like some fanboys trying to get their noona's signatures. 049 was entertained by this remark but was soon agitated as they disturbed his work and wouldn't leave him alone. So, 049 used his lethal touch on some of the researchers as the rest ran. Luckily, they ran into you, so you managed to calm down the angri bird doctor. Unfortunately, that didn't go as planned as he had mistaken you as one of the other fanboys and stabbed you right into your heart. As soon as he had realised what he's done, he rushed you into his cell and performed surgery on you. Mid-surgery, he soon realised that you were losing too much blood and died right then and there. He mourned for quite some time as the other researchers were severely punished as it had led to your death which could've been avoided.

SCP 035 (Possessive Mask)

Like the other SCPs mentioned in the list, there was a test that resulted in your death. 035 was instructed to change to another human as the black goo was secreted from the mask and so he obeyed as you were slouching by the corner of the test room. Except for this time, it is being worn by a taller and more muscular man who was a wanted man due to his former job as a mercenary. As the researchers watched intently, the mask soon felt slightly overpowered but was resolved quickly due to his evergrowing abilities and experience in possessing those who come near it or is wearing the mask. The mask spoke of the discomfort of being overpowered to which the researchers took note of this statement and watched. You were somewhat concerned to you went closer to your beloved partner to check up on him. However, upon coming closer to 035, he switched his usual persona to the man wearing it, becoming more aggressive and unable to control this body, killing the first person he sees, which was you. This stunned the researchers as the guards tried to pry him off you. When they managed to get him off, you were no longer breathing. In the next interview with 035, he displayed extreme guilt and sadness of his inability to possess the man well enough to control him fully and made a request for him to be left alone for a while.

SCP 096 (Shy Guy)

You both met up during the breach a few steps away from 096's cell. He was wandering around to find you while covering his elongated face. All the other researchers were outside trying their best to stay calm and deal with this massive breach until they just saw 096 walking about looking for someone. It instantly clicked in their mind and offered to look for you as long as he goes back to his cell afterwards to which he agreed. Upon finding you, another SCP was attempting to attack you but was soon neutralised by the other MTFs. 096 managed to push you away beforehand but his throw was so strong that you died on the impact when you fell to the ground (you really did get yeeted lmao). As 096 and the others ran towards you to make sure you were ok, you had stopped breathing and 096 screamed in sadness which flooded the whole field. As he was contained back to his cell, they noticed a small detail about 096 which was him wailing every now and again about your death.

SCP 105 (Iris)

You and Iris were just strolling down site 17 to meet with Cain and Dr James Dantensen. Once you've arrived at the agreed location within site 17, you guys were just catching up with old times and sharing your memories and stories about your everyday lives. However, this jolly moment only lasted for so long as someone had breached the containment to target you as you were close to a lot of the SCPs, especially the humanoid ones. As you, along with the others, ran to safety, the enemy caught up with you and threatened you for your knowledge of the SCPs. Iris finally caught up with you just in time to see the commotion and shoved you out of the way. Cain managed to shield you from another guy who attempted to shoot you in which Iris retaliates by throwing a knife back, but instead, injured you instead. She ran over and screamed as you slowly blacked out. Cain had to carry you over as Dantensen was calling the medics and you barely managed to survive. During your days in the hospital, the suspect managed to suffocate you which alarmed everyone. During the days that followed, Iris had been seeking out revenge as Cain tried to make her stay calm and think more rationally.

SCP 106 (Old Man)

It was another day spending some time in 106's pocket dimension as you relaxed with him. You both talked about your past experiences and the obstacles you both had overcome. Once you both were done relaxing (aka never you lazy catto so get up and do something useful for once cuz I don't wanna see yall get screamed at by your family and non-existent friends (jk jk i hope they're treating you well)), 106 took you back to his containment cell and just sat there as the researchers looked at you both blankly. 096 caused a containment breach which, of course, freed you both from 106's cell and you made a run for it (RUN FOREST RUN!). As you and 096 came into contact, 106 tried to put himself between the both of you, knowing what 096 was capable of. Unfortunately, this resulted in 106 being attacked and you died from looking at his face (wear a damn mask 096, you're in the middle of a pandemic). Saddened by the news, 106 seek revenge but was briefly neutralised and shipped to another facility so it wouldn't cause another breach due to his rage.

[tommyspeakycap]

Hi love, I adore your writing so much! And as you just asked for some ideas/concepts here’s mine for Jack Grealish from prompts list 2: fluff #11 where he’s asking her (she’s his best friend) to go for a walk cause there’s so much going on in his life and he just needs to talk. fluff #36, angst #31 and a happy ending please? Basically a Best friends to lovers thing as I’m a sap for that…thank you!! xx

Fluff #11; “I know it’s 2 in the morning but do you want to…”

Fluff #36; “because I fell for you, isn’t it obvious?”

hope I did this justice for you!

Fell for you

“Jesus god,” you grumbled with hands aimlessly palming across the mattress for the blaring sound of your phone from its place charging somewhere on the bed. Your next move is an elongated “Ahhhhh,” sound, fatigue still holding tightly onto your body in a way that seals your eyes shut even as you try to shut off the sound your phone was deafening your with. In a wakened state, you might’ve noticed that it was your ringtone that had interrupted your sleep. However as tired as you were you ruled it as your alarm right away and moved yourself into seated position with the duvet still wrapped tight around you and your eyes still shut.

You were suspended in that space between being asleep and being awake, still sitting up when the offensive sound came screaming through your phone once again.

This time, your eyes snapped open in fright and the fatigue-blurred letters of Jack Grealish’s name popped up across the top of your screen.

“How is it morning already?” You protest down the line, a heavy sigh passing your lips to follow. Jack’s chuckle can be heard through the line, “It’s not.” He replies simply, prompting you to pull your phone away from your ear to hold out in front if your face.

02:17am

“Then why on earth am I up?” You mumble, a question more posed to yourself than the man on the other end. “Wait, why are you up? And why are you calling so early?”

“I’m outside your door.”

“You’re what?!” You throw back your duvet and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You’ve hung up the phone already by the time you reach the front door at a tired shuffle. His hair is tousled when you see him, like he’s been running his hands through it over and over, you imagine that he has. He does that when he’s stressed. You have to squint against the street lights and his car headlights outside, still on as it sits running on the street. “Can we go somewhere?” He asks, his voice as desperate as his eyes look when he speaks, begging you to agree. Not that he would need to beg. You’d do anything for that man. Even if it did mean dragging yourself from your bed at 2 in the morning.

“Course.”

No question, no pressure. He loves that from you. He knows you’ll ask him later and when the time is right you’ll force him to tell you of course. Now is not that time yet and you’re nowhere near awake enough to do so much anyway. “Let me just grab my-“

“I have a hoodie in the car and your shoes in my boot.” He cuts in, tugging your arm gently out the door of your house. He knows you better than any other person in this world, so he knows full and well that there’s not much you are going to do in the way of protesting when you’re so soon out of sleep. He’d often teased with layers of worry deeper beneath that he genuinely worried for you living on your own. You open the door to people far too easily, and he will not fail to bring that up sometime tomorrow. For now, he steps into your doorway where you had stood moments before, grabs your keys from the cabinet and pulls the door closed behind him with a click of the latch locking behind him.

The cold paving stones beneath your feet make you shine in protest, shifting your weight between each one to ease the chill. In was in that cold that you look down and make the realisation, or rather come to remember the fact that you don’t have any pyjama bottoms on. “Jack!” You yelp, “I’m not wearing trousers!” You suddenly feel very exposed and rightly so, standing outside your home suddenly very awake in only a long claret and blue shirt that only extended down to the middle of your thighs. “Eh?” He whips around, “You what?”

It’s only now he really takes you in with rosy cheeks from embarrassment, your hair messed up from your sleep. His frantic eyes soften and his heart stops thundering in his chest finally. The sight of you there calms him. You’re there. Right there. His (y/n) is right there in front of him.

“What’s the rush, Jack? Is everything okay?”

Your gentle words and tired eyes bring him back to the ground, the flurry of his racing thoughts only now finally calmed. He often acts on impulse, but you are always able to slow his brain down a few paces. His sits heavily, "I know it's two am but...do you think we could go somewhere. My heads fuckin'... I don't even know." He dips back down to run that hand through his hair once again. His words stoke a bit of a worry in you, head tilted to the side in question. Jack doesn't tend to be the kind who gets himself panicked and all wound up like he has right now. That's more your half of the friendship. You did the worrying, he did the easygoing.

"It's okay, Jack. Of course. Come on then, let's go." You nod your head and he goes around the back of the car to get the shoes and socks he promised you. You very nearly choked up a lung when he presented you with a brand new Balenciaga box. "What the fuck, Jack?" You all but wheeze out, head whipping towards him climbing into the passenger seat.

"Got you a present 'cause I'm leaving soon." He shrugs with a jaw-dropping ease. You list open the lid and inside sit a pair of sliders that cost nearly £400. You physically gawp. "Oh my god."

"What?" Jack asks, drawing out of his parking spot on the street, "Heard you telling your mum you needed new sliders for the summer, do you not like 'em?"

His nerves would be clear in his voice if you hadn't been in such a ferocious level of shock. You're glad you weren't eating anything because it surely would have choked you to death. Of course you had seen Jack wearing brands like Balenciaga, Gucci, Versace and the likes, but you had never owned such an expensive piece of clothing. "I mean of course I love them, J but I meant from Primark or bloody amazon, you shouldn't have spent al that money on me." You protested, but Jack really pays it no mind. In fact, the suggestion that you don't deserve everything luxurious that this world has to offer offends him more than it does anything else. You should know that you deserve everything good that this world can give and he has the means to actually give that to you. He'd count himself an absolute fool not to.

"Gonna pretend you didn't say that." He mutters, eyes kept carefully on the empty road ahead of his car. Your eyebrows are furrowed, a part of you brain still very much trying to a) wake up and b) process the expensive of the gift he handed to you so casually. "Not arguing about it either." His voice cuts you off the second you open your mouth to speak, shutting down your protest before it even leaves you.

As the fatigue of your sleep wears off, your mind continues to be just as boggled as it had been the moment his name popped up on your screen at 2am, if not more boggled now.

"You're acting so weird, Jack. What the hell is going on with you today?" Your insistence is careful with your pressure. It's enough to try to open him up but not enough to make it sound like a confrontation. Neither you nor Jack like confrontation especially with each other. The words make him chew on his lip as he careens the large white range rover through a turn that leads up a gravel road that crunches beneath his tires. The stops when he's met with a with a large gate that prevents cars but a little slot for people to walk through. Jack leaves his door open when he leaves the car with a curtly mumbled "Stay here" as he does. He pushes open the gate with ease before he gets back in the car and follows the path up the hill further.

He stop abruptly in a very small gravel car park without any parking lines to abide and steps out, slamming his door behind him like he absolutely always does; you swear that man couldn't be quiet if his life depended on it. Which was another reason why you were so surprised by his silence. You clamber out after him with that same fear of falling flat on your face that always fills your mind each and every time you leave his car. But Jack is where he has been every time you step out the Range Rover since the first day he got it; standing by your door to hold your hand so you can jump out without a trip onto the gravel beneath. He shuts the door behind you and hands you a spare pair of his loose fitting track pants.

On an average day you might've teased the reason he hasn't worn them was because they wouldn't have squeezed the life out his legs. Today wasn't one of those days, so you slip them on without a word. Followed up by his way too big for you socks and the brand new black slides. Even wide awake, this confuses you to no end. Jack was never quiet and never elusive. He was boisterous, loud, open and confident.

The second you turn around, you realise why he brought you here.

The view of the stars, the sky completely clear. There wasn't a street lamp in sight. The moon provided the kind of spotlight hue that you kind of thought only existed in the enhancement of Hollywood movies. "Woah," you breathe, words stolen by its beauty.

"Yeah," Jack laughs, "Now you know how I feel every time I look at you."

You head turns to him so fast it sends your head spinning a little, or maybe that's just the shock of his words. You couldn't tell.

"What?"

He shrugs his shoulders, scuffing his feet along the gravel to meet up with where you stand. But he freezes before he gets the chance.

"Why are you wearing that?" He asks, a very sudden cold change in his tone that actually makes your body feel colder. "Wearing what? This?" You gesture to the claret and blue shirt you had thrown on in a haste to get to him standing at your front door a short while ago. You turn to see his unhappy scowl and the firm discontented cross of his strong arms. "Yeah that," he grumbles, "And where'd you even get it." He adds with a flare of his nostrils. He looks adorable angry like this, like he's trying so hard to look angry when his emotions lie truly elsewhere.

You look down at the shirt with furrowed brows, before you shift your shoulder forward, crane your neck and pull the material around to view the back as best you could. "What's wrong with it?" You ask finally, attempts to defy the natural state of your body failing to allow you to see your back.

"It's Ginny's." Jack states as if its the most obvious thing in the world. You just look at him bewildered. "And?"

He huffs as he takes a few more heavy steps up to you, looking like he had a lot of things to say without any way of being able to get them to coordinate from his brain to his lips. "Why do you have Ginny's shirt though?"

You breathe a little bit of laughter at him, shaking your head softly. "it was just a joke. I saw him after a match waiting for you so I jumped out at him and pretended to be a fan for a video and he signed it and gave to me as a joke. I just threw it on when you showed up at my door in the middle of the night. Wasn't exactly a fashion statement."

Jack still grunts in dissatisfaction at your answer, refusing to meet your eyes. "You have plenty of mine to wear though, don't need his." His argues in a disgruntled grumble. You raise and drop your arms down by your side with a sigh. He was really testing your patience now. "Hm, last time I checked you couldn't give me yours anymore because your ex didn't like it." You protest with a wag of your finger, making him turn his head downwards with something like a shudder running through him at the mention of her name. "Yeah well there's a reason she's my ex innit." He mutters under his breath.

"What the hell is the problem with you today Jack?" You exclaim, his eyes jolting to you in surprise. You don't often snap.

"First you show up at my door in the middle of the night and drag me out of my house and then you won't actually speak to me and now you're picking a fight about John M fucking Ginn?" You snap, the anger and confusion he had stirred up showing in your emphatic hand gestures that only come out when you're telling him a passionate story or going off your head at him. "He's your best mate, why would that even bother you?!"

"I'm sorry, I-"

"I'm not done, Jack!" You yell, holding out a hand. "You haven't even spoken to me all week. I found out you made the England call up on fucking twitter Jack, twitter! And your mum told me about you dumping your girl and I can't even get through to you and now you're buying me gifts and bringing me here? I don't know if I'm coming or going here Jack, you have to give me something. We're meant to be friends." You voice breaks on the last syllable and a lump forms in Jack's throat that he can't just swallow away. Any pain, any hurt and any slight sadness of emotion that appears in you shatters his heart. He thought that was a normal reaction until two weeks ago when he realised it only happens to him when its your upset he witnesses.

"I'm sorry." He says, his voice thick and wavering with the same level of emotion. "I really, really am." He stands right in front of you now, so close you're basically chest to chest, faces merely inches apart.

"And I'm scared." He admits, sending a pang through your already aching heart. "Scared because I'm leaving and I can't take you with me." His words tickle your lips as they leave his, clouds of air puffing above the two of you as his hot breath meets the cold night air. "You've done it before, J. It'll be fine." You soothe, hands gently raising to reach up and brush the hair out of his face. His let's forth a content sigh of relief at the feeling of your touch. "That was before though." He confesses with a slight shrug. He watches that furrow sow itself back into your brows.

"Before what?"

"Dance with me?" He suggests, his arms finding their way around you with ease, much less fumbley than you remember from your high school prom. Your head tilts in that adorable confused way that makes a grin form on his cold lips.

"Why?" You query, eyes slightly narrowed in suspicion. He laughs softly. "Because the music is slow and the sky is gorgeous and because I love you."

Before you get the chance to recognise, process or even understand what he said, he's swaying you around the gravel under the stars.

"Because you what?" You squeak, your eyes desperately searching his as you look for any reason this might be some kind of a joke or one of pranks that makes you want to throttle him. He just smiles at you with those crinkled eyes and the love shining right there in his eyes for you to see. Your stomach flutters like the teenager you were when you fell in love with him. His lips dip down to capture yours in the best kiss that your being has ever felt, his hands ringing your hair, stroking down over your cheeks with those warm hands of his.

"Because I've fell for you, isn't it obvious?"

[gingersnaaps]

making things right

you and iwaizumi just aren't meant to be, and if he has to fuck some sense into your little brain for you to understand, then so be it.

wc: 2.8k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): noncon, explicit n*fw, blackmail, emotional manipulation, emotional sadism, dumbification, degradation, fem!reader with inner genitals, has something resembling an actual plot

a/n: i couldn't decide which way i wanted to go with the plot, so i just did both. read a darker version of this here

i don't want minors interacting with my content

Oikawa really doesn’t like how much time Iwaizumi has been spending around you lately.

It’s not that he’s jealous, of course - that kind of pettiness is far beneath him - it just doesn’t seem right. It’s not the natural order of things for someone as pretty as you, all soft skin and glowing smiles, to be practically draped around Iwaizumi all the fucking time.

He’s counted, you know, and today was the thirty-eighth time that you’ve visited their lunch table and somehow ended up on Iwaizumi’s lap.

And doesn’t he also have to think of his team? The Spring Interhigh’s coming up, and it wouldn’t do for one of the most important players on the team to be constantly distracted. He’s seen the way Iwaizumi looks at you: it’s adoration encapsulated in a gaze, the kind of tenderness and admiration that he’s only ever seen Iwaizumi direct at himself.

Oikawa’s going to have to fix this, isn’t he? He’s going to have to make everything the way it should be.

-

He finds that he enjoys the constant planning and brainstorming and especially the fantasizing far more than he’d anticipated.

Oikawa notes down which days you go home immediately after school, which days you stay, and the routes you take home. He writes down all your friends in a little notebook, familiarizes himself with the classes you take, and pays extra attention to your mood swings.

Of course, as he spends more and more time detailing every aspect of your life, it’s only natural for his thoughts to… wander. In class, he catches his own attention drifting away from Japanese literature to thoughts of what you’d look like strung out on his cock, eyes squeezing out tears as he stuffs you full and claims your pussy. He thinks about how slutty your skirt looks when you’re bending over, and about how much he’d like to rip it off of you. He likes to imagine how Iwaizumi would react, too - the way he’d cry and sob and finally understand that you don’t belong with someone like him.

He finds that these thoughts allow him to tolerate Iwaizumi’s presence near you a lot better, even though the two of you have only grown closer as of late. When you start getting particularly obnoxious with your flirting, he just has to picture you screaming in pain as he fucks you dry, or think about the bulge in your throat from his cock shoved deep inside your mouth. And when he sees Iwaizumi finally ask you out on a date to the ramen place nearby, he almost feels sorry for how short-lived, how temporary, your romance is going to be.

As the weeks go by and the Interhigh draws near, Oikawa thinks he’s got a pretty good idea of how to make it happen.

It starts off almost too easy.

Oikawa’s usually the one who stays late after practice, slamming his serves into the opposite end of the court until his vision goes dizzy and his arms turn numb. But Iwaizumi - bless his generosity - had planned on staying after to help a few of the first years out with their serves.

He waits at the school gates, scanning the entrance for any sign of you. You should be finishing up with your little club soon if the notes he’d been keeping were any indication, and sure enough, he spots your bright teal jacket scurrying towards the gates after just a few minutes.

Oikawa plasters on his friendliest smile, waving you towards him. “Hey,” he greets. “Iwa-chan told me to wait for you today. Do you want to come over? He’ll be along in just a minute - he’s just cleaning up the gym a bit.”

“Aren’t you the captain?” you tease. “So much for being responsible.”

He forces out a laugh. Do you realize how insufferable you are? Because you’re really not doing yourself any favors with the way you’re acting. But he pushes down the surge of anger that threatens to spill over, because he knows you’ll change your tune as soon as you arrive at his place.

He can’t wait.

The walk home is filled with empty banter, useless conversation that flits back and forth on the most boring of topics. To be honest, Oikawa appreciates this - it gives him the mental room to think about much more interesting things, like the way your breasts are pushing against the jacket, or the slight sheen of your lip gloss. Or, alternatively, the way your breasts would look spilling out of his hands, and the way your shiny lips would look smeared with spit and cum.

He places a hand on your waist as he guides you inside his house, but you stiffen. “Isn’t Hajime supposed to have caught up to us by now?” you ask.

Hajime.

First name basis, huh?

It’s a small detail, but it’s the kind of change that has him seeing red at the periphery of his vision, the kind that makes him want to ruin your slutty body until it's bruised and leaking cum. He’s been friends with Iwaizumi for twelve years. Twelve years, and all he’s gotten from him is a nickname. You’ve known him for barely a fucking year, and here you are, sauntering away with his first name.

His hand on your waist tightens, gripping and squeezing at your lovely flesh until he can feel you wince in pain. “I’m afraid it might be a while,” he says, voice brittle.

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning around, your eyes widening.

Oikawa shoves you inside and slams the door. “I mean,” he hisses. “That your precious Hajime won’t be coming around anytime soon.”

Panic rises in your throat, but he slaps a hand over your mouth quicker than you can scream. All that escapes is a strangled cry, weak and thin, one that quickly dies out in the entrance hall of his house. It’s much too quiet to reach any neighbors, you realize with a sinking feeling. The last bit of faint hope you harbor in the back of your mind dies when you realize that there’s no concerned housewife coming to check on the commotion, no fumbling child who might stumble in on you and Oikawa. You’re alone. You’re fucked.

He’d made sure of it.

“Bitches like you are so stupid, aren’t you? Making me spell everything out for you.” His voice drips condescension as he yanks you by the hair towards the bedroom. There’s no reason to put up an act anymore, he thinks, so he can be as rough as he wants with his new toy - he just has to make sure he returns you in one piece to Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s sure he won’t mind if you’re a little beat up around the edges, a little used by the end of this.

As he throws you down on the bed, the thought gives him immense satisfaction. You’d been so eager to do things with Iwaizumi - he’d coaxed out embarrassed confessions from his friend over late-night calls - so he’s almost sure that you’re a needy slut during sex.

Of course, you’re not nearly so eager now, not when he’s holding your squirming body down on the bed.

“You do realize that this is what you get, right? It’s your fault for being this fucking easy. Should’ve thought a bit harder about going home with me. Did your mommy and daddy never teach you to not trust men?” he says, face curling into a smile.

You’re unable to get a word out, mouth dry and cottony from the fear that pierces you. He watches your eyes flicker between the bulge in his pants and his face, uncertain and wary, like a deer caught in headlights. Oikawa can’t help the sick pleasure that bubbles up within him at the look on your face.

“Please,” you say hoarsely. “Please.”

“You have to use your words, you know. You could be begging me to stop, but I think you like this. I think you’re begging me to get on with it,” he says.

Maybe he’s taking it a step too far with the dramatics, but he can’t bring himself to tone it down - not when he’s right about to get to the good bit, and certainly not when he sees those pretty tears trickling down your face.

He looks you up and down appraisingly. He’d always thought you were rather pretty, with your soft halo of hair and your glittering smile - but he can’t deny that there’s a special sort of charm in the way you fidget uncomfortably under his gaze.

It makes him hungry.

As he spreads your thighs apart, all he can think about is how much he wants to claim you, to ruin you, because that’s what he imagines fucking you is like: ownership and victory spread on his tongue while your juices drench his cock. All the filthy dreams he’s had, every fantasy he’s gotten off to late at night, and the stifling heat spreading through his core is begging him to fuck you, to ravish your tight hole until the only name you know is his own.

He doesn’t really want to bother with prep. He’s sure that stretching you out on three - no, maybe four fingers until you scream would be fun, but you don’t deserve that kind of special treatment. Aren’t sluts like you supposed to be wet all the time anyway?

You can feel the outline of his dick dragging along your soft thighs, pressing close to your cunt, a breathy moan escaping his lips from the friction of his sweatpants grinding against your body. It’s not long before he pulls his cock out all the way and strokes it a few times. He grabs at your hips, maneuvering you like a rag doll, and fits the tip of his cock at your fluttering entrance. Nudging at your hole, he pushes in just the head of his cock - enough so you can feel the sting of his girth, but not nearly deep enough to offer any real relief.

You whine involuntarily, and a grin lights up his face. “You’re desperate, aren’t you?” he asks, dragging a thumb against your lips. “Is it because Iwa-chan doesn’t fuck you well enough? Is his pathetic dick too small to fill up that hole of yours properly?” he leers. “I’ve seen his cock before… mine’s bigger, you know.”

“Fuck you,” you mumble. You’re dizzy from the fear and panic that clouds your brain, but anger still seeps into your veins at his crude words.

Maybe if your head was a bit clearer, you would’ve realized that only stupid girls talk back.

Oikawa’s hips snap into yours harshly, his cock tearing at your insides, and you let out a strangled gasp. You’re not prepared for how well his cock stretches you out - it’s curved in all the right places, ramming into your cervix, brushing up against your tender g-spot - and as he ruthlessly pounds your frail body into the mattress, your mind blanks, overloaded with sensation. You can’t remember who you are, or why you’re getting fucked. The only thing on your mind is the raw feeling of being cunt split wide open, of having your insides rearranged until you’re a drooling, dumb mess.

“Fuck who?” he asks, shoving two fingers inside your sloppy mouth,

“F- fuck…” you whisper. His fingers are gripping at your hips so tightly you can feel the skin beginning to bruise, and there’s just too much to handle. He’s everywhere; his fingers probe around your mouth, making you gag, and his cock drags along your tender walls until you’re left quivering around his length.

He leans down to kiss at your forehead, his lips brushing tenderly against your hair. “You can do it, baby,” he encourages, cooing at you. “You can say it.”

“Fuck me,” you whimper quietly, cheeks burning with shame.

“Good girl,” he says, voice sickly sweet. “I knew you could do it for me.”

Fucking you feels so much better once you’re compliant, he thinks. He slows down a bit, savoring the sensation of your cunt twitching uselessly while you writhe on the bed in pleasure. He feels a sharp jolt of arousal as he looks at the marks he’s left all over you, admiring how the angry bruises on your hips and waist are beginning to purple.

You tug at his shirt, sniffling and crying. “Please,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re asking for anymore, not even sure whether you want Oikawa to stop or continue, but you can’t handle the way he’s slowly fucking you senseless.

He raises an eyebrow. “You want it faster?” he asks cruelly, bouncing you into his cock. There’s no response on your end, but Oikawa thinks he’ll take that as a yes. And if that’s what you want?

Well, that’s what you get.

The hum of pleasure in your core intensifies as he picks up speed again. This time, he angles his cock until it grinds down harshly on your sensitive spot, leaving your legs limp and body helpless as your cunt tightens like a vice. As you shudder from the orgasm that washes over you, he spills into your pussy until your hole is leaking white down your thighs.

You can feel him laughing softly as he pulls out and climbs to rest beside you, leaving you stuck in a pool of your own sweat and cum and. He wipes the remaining cum off of his cock, smearing it on your face, but you barely react. You feel so dirty, so tainted and violated, but you’re not sure you could move even if you tried - his cock has left you boneless and made sure that every square inch of your body is sore and aching.

“Well,” he says, breathless. “Better run home unless you want Iwa-chan to know you’ve been all used up.”

Hajime? Your eyes widen, welling up with tears.

Oikawa unlocks the phone in his hand and presses play.

The sounds that echo through the empty room make you feel like screaming, because there’s no denying the solid, tangible proof that’s being played back. Your breathy moans are clear as day, and it’s unmistakable when you hear yourself begging Oikawa to fuck you harder, faster, to split you apart on his cock.

With a sinking feeling, you know there’s no explanation that would ever satisfy Hajime if he heard this audio. You can already see the pain in his eyes if he were to find out that his best friend for the past twelve years had ruined you, fucked you so thouroughly that you could barely tell the difference between pain and pleasure.

You don’t want that, you realize miserably. You can’t have that.

“I’m not going to send it,” he says. He sees hope creep into your expression, as if you’re almost daring to believe that you could go back to your normal life after this little session, but he doesn’t feel any pity for you when he speaks again.

“Not if you stay away.”

You and Hajime don’t belong together anyway, so why would he be sorry?

Your eyes drop as you inhale shakily. Oikawa watches you fumble around for your clothing, entertained by the way you trip and stumble as your weak legs attempt to hold you upright. It makes for an awkward, ugly image - but he can’t deny the warm thrill of satisfaction that runs up his spine as you slink out of his bedroom.

He’s finally making things right.

-

When you go to school the next day, you’re glad that you don’t have any classes with Hajime for the first time ever. It makes it easier to avoid him, and you purposely choose to sit as far away as possible from their table in the lunchroom. You don’t bother responding to his messages either, every single text of his sending a bitter jolt of pain through you, and you eventually block his number.

Weeks later, you’re not sure he’d believe you even if you were to explain everything. What would you even say? That you’d been ignoring him and ghosting him because his best friend of twelve years had raped and blackmailed you? That someone he knows and trusts was capable of devastating violence? Oikawa and him seem closer than ever, and you start to wonder at your own stupidity. To think that you could ever get in between a bond as close as theirs - maybe Oikawa was right all along.

You’re walking home alone one day, the hazy late-day sun bathing the roads in a shimmering heat, when you hear footsteps and a voice behind you. Your heart hammers unsteadily, getting ready to run, when you hear three words that make your stomach drop.

“I’ve missed you.”

[komoreangel]

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐢𝐚

pairing: scaramouche x fem!reader

scenario: you met when you were both very young, and since the day he left you behind he still feels an undying fear for what sight would await him if he dared to return home.

or…

thantophobia - the fear of losing a loved one. but he had made it perfectly clear that you did not fall under that category when he left you and all of your promises behind.

request: okok my first idea was: scaramouche childhood friends to enemies to lovers. take with that what you will <3

a/n: hi anon ty so very much for the request we all know i love scara <33 but i did tweak it a bit basically its childhood friends to enemies to scara loves reader but reader isnt convinced (with a hint of 'ive always loved you' thrown in)

side note: this is a rewrite of an excerpt i wrote for a scara x oc, in which the oc was female (the same is said here but i will avoid using pronouns) and adopted into the kamisato clan as a princess (minor inazuma spoilers). the same situation is stated here. also i am 1000% willing to write more of this (includes my personal headcanons for scaramouche’s backstory, not canon!!)

growing up, you had always had poor health

your mother worried for you a lot when you were younger

she didn’t like to let you go outside much either

you spent most of your time in the palace walls while she worked, frequently being taken to see the royal physician

you would sit outside the door while your parents talked with the doctors about your “condition”

you weren’t even that sick

just weak for your age

that was when you first met him

he was training to be a soldier along his father

you were like a ghost in his eyes

sitting in the hall in the middle of the night

knees pushed to your chest, snoozing in the soft light of the moon

he was naturally a curious boy, so he kneeled in front of you and poked your shoulder

“hello?”

you startled awake

“wah-!” he fell back at your sudden movement

“who are you?” you asked

your voice was soft, and gentle, like a midnight breeze

“i’m [redacted].”

you remember what he told you, but some part of that memory had been erased from your mind…you wonder to this day what he could have said.

“my name is y/n.”

he thought it was a pretty name, although he wasn’t going to say anything

the two of you sat in the moonlight, talking quietly amongst yourselves

“why are you sitting outside the physician’s office?” he asked you

“my mama says i’m sick, and that going outside will make it worse.”

“oh. are you going to get better soon?”

you smile at him, a gesture that makes his chest tighten, although he can’t fathom why.

“yeah! she says that if we can afford to get some medicine from liyue, i’ll be all better! then i can start making friends!”

he slightly smiles

“can i be your friend, [redacted]?”

you had even said the name yourself once. why couldn’t you remember it?

his expression shifts to a slightly surprised look

“you…want to be my friend?”

he was quiet even then, and his silent expression would grow to an angry one over time

“yeah! you’re interesting, and you’re one of the few people who bothers to talk to me.”

he doesn’t speak for a while.

“you can say no if you want to.” you say to him.

“okay. i’ll be your friend.”

it’s a short response, but the bright grin that lights up your face makes it worth the wait

“yay! i can’t wait till i’m better so we can hang out more!”

you two talked in that hallway a lot

meeting after dark, talking about anything in the world

when you were about six, the worst of your illness hit you

the doctors didn’t even know what was wrong, and there were nights when he would sit outside the physician’s office alone at night, hoping, praying that the sun would shine on a world that still had you in it

you would collapse from exhaustion at the slightest overexertion

his father always told him he had to be careful with you, not only were you shorter than him, but you were also very fragile

those hours spent sitting in the hallway alone, he got to do a lot of thinking

he wanted to help you, but he didn’t know how

then, there was a sudden burst of hope

you were going to liyue with your parents

you would get the help you needed

he was happy for you, even if it meant you would have to spend time away from him

and then there was the terrible news

the ship had gone missing

you had too

he couldn’t sleep for days on end

his father was worried too

when he saw you again, you found yourself shuddering on the shores of inazuma

he wrapped his arms around you as tight as he could, as if his strength alone could undo everything that had happened

it was one of the few times he showed affection in public

he rushed you to the healer again

and this time there was no hoping

there was no praying

there was just the pit in his stomach, the fear that coursed through his veins and fueled his blood

every second felt like a decade, it was a moment in which you weren’t perfectly healthy and safe

the townspeople began to spread rumors, as people do

the guard’s son who was lovesick with worry for the sickly orphan girl

what a pity, no?

he wanted to shut them up. he wished he had the power to shut them up.

when even his father had to drag him away from the pharmacy, he didn’t talk to anyone for a very long time.

this was around the time he grew sour and snappy

his simply quiet demeanor developed into a scowl that constantly graced his face

he only smiled the day you were released from the physicians.

you weren’t fully healed. but you felt better than you ever had in your life.

his father took you in without a second thought, and he was just happy to have you with him.

“i’m better, scara.” you said to him, a happy smile on your face

“i was wondering when you’d hurry up and get well.”

you were a bit troubled by his attitude, but no less, you were happy to see your friend again.

it went like that for a long time.

he was rude, but you didn’t care because you knew what he was like underneath.

some nights he would sneak into your room and talk to you.

he told you he was just bored and felt like annoying you.

but his real reason was to make sure you were still breathing.

he always worried about you

so the day you received your vision, he felt a lot of relief

surely this meant that you could protect yourself. you were safe.

then the worst of all things happened.

his fathers death.

the day he felt like his world was ripped from underneath his feet.

almost immediately, the electro archon, baal, herself, intervened, and declared that you were to be adopted into the kamisato clan.

why you? why couldn’t he keep you with him? he was old enough to be able to take care of both of you

baal didn’t like his questioning. she said she knew what was best for you.

it was strange. because in the days he spent with you after, although not many, you didn’t seem sick at all.

for the first time, you seemed perfectly healthy.

he was glad for that…but he wasn’t happy. you could see that easily.

you knew this wasn’t the right thing for him

he stuck around for a year. you suppose you’re lucky he even stayed that long. you were pretty much his only reason.

sure he found friends in ayaka and kazuha…but he was unhappy.

he knew there was no point in staying, so he thought it was time he took his leave.

he approached you one day, as the sun began to set

you were worried for him, as he had been very angry towards baal and the emperor lately.

“scara, is there something you want to talk about?”

you watch as he stands before you

he blurts out, “run away with me.”

you’re taken aback almost immediately.

“what?”

he repeats his statement

“i’m going to flee from inazuma. come with me.”

“scara..”

his expression, as it does often these days, turns stern and serious.

“i’m not going to ask you again. come with me, y/n.”

you’re tired of him ordering you around.

“you know i can’t. i have duties here. i can’t just betray my country for you.”

“you know baal wants me gone. she’s going to kill me if i stay. she might do the same to you.”

you scoff at his words. “she won’t harm me or you. you’re being dramatic.”

he spits out his next words, laced with venom. “baal killed my father. i hate her and so should you.”

“scara.”

“it’s like you’ve completely forgotten about him just because you’re royalty now.”

“scara.”

“don’t call me scara. come with me if you ever cared at all.”

“scaramouche!”

he goes quiet

“don’t go. please.”

he frowns

“you know i can’t do that.”

you want to try and make him stay

but he won’t. you know nothing you say will convince him. he won’t let himself be convinced by you, even if that’s what he truly wants.

you inhale

“get out of here.”

“what?”

“go. leave. and take this with you.”

you throw the necklace you were wearing at him, and he catches it. baal had exiled him, it was true, but he couldn’t expect you to throw everything away for him.

“wait, what are you-“

as the two of you stare each other down, you hear ayaka’s voice coming from the courtyard, calling for you.

she has a guard with her, as the emperor assigns every royal family member. you managed to ditch yours early on.

“the guard is gonna get you if you stay, scara. get out of here, now.”

he scoffs

“whatever. i can’t believe i thought you were worth risking my life.”

he pockets the necklace and steps over the wall, and he’s gone.

nine years of friendship and he threw you away like you were nothing

in truth, the minute he was out of sight, he threw down his bag in anger

he turned around and you weren’t there anymore

you gave up on him

so if he hated you, you deserved it

it might be worth a hefty price anyway.

at least that’s what he told himself

(he never stopped missing you. almost as soon as he joined the fatui, he requested an audience with the tsaritsa to ask her how you were doing.)

“a simple agent, asking that much of me? and for a girl? that’s very bold of you.”

upon hearing it was about you, the cryo archon grew very interested. of course she remembered you.

the sickly orphan she gifted a vision to at a very young age.

she told him you were well

what she didn’t tell him was about baal going berserk and massacring thousands of her people.

upon receiving the news, he felt that chill upon him once again

the fear that fell onto his shoulders, weighing him down, too scared to ask for more information. he didn’t want to be told you were gone.

“the royal family was not harmed.”

he felt his muscles relax as he calmed down.

he quickly reassumed an upright stance.

he was the sixth harbinger. he has no weaknesses. he cares for nothing and no one.

but beneath his mask, the fire of his love for you burned brighter than the flame of any pyro vision.

a/n: ok so i really enjoyed this….scara banner when. i did tweak it a bit but i have other things written for this scenario in which scara returns to inazuma and reader is (deservingly) PISSED with him :) lmk if you want me to post those !

[anyoneseenadam]

You write fenrys so well 🥺

Can I request something for him falling in love with a lady who works in a library and is friends with aelin and he keeps finding excuses to visit the library and one day they realize they’re mates ? Can you plz include alot of longing looks & touched and his friends noticing ?

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: drinking, small argument, mainly fluff

a/n: kay so it's been a hot MINUTE since I've posted and I am sorry my loves, also I comepletely modified this but I hope you still like it, comment and shiz pls it really helps with writers block lol <33

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You had met Aelin sometime after the war. She had been wandering around town a couple days after the coronation, smiling at children and waving at the elderly, observing the way the town was slowly filling again, people returning home now it was safe. There weren’t many people about however, it just being seven in the morning.

She had walked past a shop then. It was small and rickety, the door barely on its hinges as a girl fought with it, swearing like a sailor.

“Do you need some help?” she asked, moving to stand beside the girl. You screamed instantly, jumping out of your skin at her sudden appearance, having not heard anyone coming due to how absorbed you were in your job. Aelin screamed when you screamed, and it left the two of you staring at each other with wide eyes before you fell apart in fits of laughter.

You stood from where you had bent to clutch your stomach, wiping tears from your eyes as you calmed down.

“Jeez you fucking gave me a heart attack,” you laughed as she apologised, still giggling behind her hand. You then turned, hands on your hips as you glared at the door of your shop.

“Rude men should be put down,” you muttered and Aelin was laughing again.

“That I can get behind,” she said as you opened it, giving up on fixing it completely, Aelin gasping when she saw the inside.

“You have a bookshop!” she exclaimed, and you laughed.

“Had, now I just have dusty books and a broken door. It was my mother’s before…” you trailed off and Aelin put a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and you shrugged.

“It’s fine, it was ages ago anyway,” you stepped further into the shop, going to the large window up front and tugging of the white sheet that obscured it from light. “However, this shop isn’t dead yet so might as well get it done.”

Aelin looked around the shop, the paper on the walls was peeling, the paint on the shelves cracked and the books covered in a fine layer of dust. “Damn, where do we start?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves and grinning at you when you whirled around, frowning at her.

“Doesn’t the queen have better things to do?” you asked, and she shrugged, laughing at your bewildered expression.

“I’m sure my husband will cope.” You gave her an unsure look at that, and she laughed, “He’s competent.”

“If you say so.”

“If you knew I was queen you really have no fear of authority do you?” she asked as you started pulling books down and pilling them onto the sheet you just pulled off the window.

“Respect is earned, plus you’re the one who made me shit myself.” She laughed again, smiling widely, and helping you take down more books as she realised this was the most she had laughed since the war ended.

--

The worked all day. First removing the books and putting them upstairs in the rundown apartment you lived in, filled with plants, blankets, and somehow even more books. Next the repainted the shelves, setting them outside to dry while they re-wallpapered the walls and cleaned the floor until it was shining.

When the sky got darker you swore as you realised neither of you had eaten all day, going up to your new friend and asking her what she wanted for dinner.

“I make really good pasta,” you had suggested, and she had nodded enthusiastically as you went upstairs to your apartment, drinking wine as you cooked together. As you ate on the floor, drinking yet another bottle of wine, this time straight from the bottle Aelin asked about your past.

You assured her it was relatively normal, asides from the whole ‘evil tyrant thing’ as you put it. You talked together for hours, going back downstairs, and bringing the now dry, sage green shelves back in and putting all the books away, setting them in categories.

Hours later Aelin decided to go home, not wanting to worry so much and she opened the still broken door, the both of you laughing as you realised you had forgotten a pretty integral part.

“Hey, you could just name the shop, ‘the broken door’,” she suggested, and you smiled.

“That would work.”

--

When Aelin got home she was met with a concerned Rowan, asking where she had been all day.

She smiled at him, pausing before answering, “I think I have a new best friend.”

Rowan frowned at that, “And what brings you to that conclusion?”

“Today was the first time I’ve laughed since…” she trailed off as silence fell at the thought of their past few months, Rowan then bringing her in for a hug.

“You know this means I have to meet her too then,”

“Nope my best friend get your own.” She shoved him playfully, falling asleep next to him that night with a smile on her face.

--

They went to see you the next morning and Aelin laughed when she saw your dishevelled state.

“Did you sleep?” she asked when she walked into the shop and found signs put up and plants dotted around the room as you sat on the floor, drinking a coffee that smelt so strong she almost gagged, much preferring sweeter tastes.

“Sleep is for the weak!” you said, half-heartedly raising your hand.

“And what’s with all the plants?” Rowan asked, frowning as he almost walked into another and you sat up straighter, glaring at him.

“What you too good for plants?” you asked your hands moving over-exaggeratedly as you got to your feet. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just a stinky man,” you whispered to the plants and Aelin laughed at her husbands offended face.

You stood and started walking upstairs, your feet dragging as you went to get breakfast. You heard them follow you and you pushed open the door to your flat.

You had even more plants up here and Rowan rolled his eyes as you moved to open the large windows, letting in fresh air, you then moved about making pancakes, mixing enough for the three of you and adding blueberries when you were finished.

You cooked them up while chatting idly with Aelin and Rowan, only receiving a small amount of judgement when Aelin discovered you didn’t actually have a bed and instead just a mattress on the floor with a sheet for warmth and some soft pillows. Your house was newly decorated, art hung on the walls, plants and candles decorating every surface.

“Tea, coffee, water, vodka?” you offered them drinks and Aelin whined.

“No vodka, we had too much wine last night,” you laughed at that as you served up coffee and pancakes.

“Yeah we’ll have to go properly drinking some night,” you muttered, Rowan chuckling under his breath and nodding in agreement.

The three of you ate the rest of your food, laughing and joking together and Rowan really noticed the difference in Aelin’s manner. She hadn’t been truly comfortable or at ease in months, always looking over her shoulder, but now she sat laughing with her friend and Rowan wanted to thank you a million times over for bringing her back out of her shell.

--

Since you first met Aelin you were meeting up almost every day, discussing books over tea and hanging out at your shop, or drinking from expensive glasses in her castle while trying on elaborate dresses. Soon you were practically apart of the family, but that didn’t stop the confusion Fenrys felt when he walked into the castle and found a young girl sleeping on Aelins’ bed, a book opened but abandoned on her chest.

He tentatively walked forward so he could see her more clearly and felt his heart clench when his eyes fall upon her peaceful face, her eyes closed, and hair spread around her head like a halo. He was about to reach a hand out to brush a strand of hair from her soft hair when he heard the door open, turning to see Aelin run in, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

“Fenrys I didn’t know you were back,” she said when she pulled back, bouncing on the soles of her feet excitedly and he laughed.

“Are you going to explain why there’s a girl in your bed, or do I need to break some news to Rowan,” he joked and she shoved his shoulder before moving to the bed and shaking the girl awake.

“It’s just (y/n),” she explained as the girl huffed and rolled away from Aelin.

“Ah of course this person who I definitely knew existed,” Aelin stuck her finger up at him as he laughed, unable to stop his eyes from trailing back to her.

He watched as she breathed in deeply, her eyes opening slowly as she took him in, before she pulled her covers up to over her chin and frowned at him and Aelin with a small pout.

“I was having the best dream every asshole,” she complained and Fenrys smiled as she sat up on her elbows and reached a hand out to him to shake, introducing herself. He brushed the shake of and instead brought her hand to his mouth pressing a kiss to the back of it as sparks show through her skin at the sensation.

“I’m Fenrys, ambassador of Terrasen,” he smiled cheekily as she shrunk away slightly, nerves taking over her, “hope to see you around more.”

He left, pressing a quick kiss to Aelin’s temple, and winking at you as Aelin moved over to you with wide eyes.

“Aelin…” you started as she squealed.

“He was totally flirting with you! You would be such a cute couple, please, please ask him out I need you two to get married and have to worlds prettiest babies!” she was bouncing in hr seat as you moved to shut her up.

“Okay ONE, I just met him. And TWO, he was far too pretty for me,” you said and Aelin frowned.

“Nope, nope you are incorrect, and he is going to fall in love with you,” she demanded, and you laughed, kicking her with your foot.

“Mhm sure.”

--

The next few days, Fenrys was coming to your shop every day. He would bring chocolates and flowers some days, or coffee and pastries other days. Always dropping them off with a smile, before lounging in the plush, green chair in the corner of the shop and talking to you for hours. He has also started coming to your and Aelin’s weekly cocktail night, wrapping his arm around your shoulder’s and laughing drunkenly into your neck as you told stories.

However, through all this you remained ‘friends’. He would press kisses to your cheek and hands, keep an arm slung around your waist when men came to speak at you at bars and primarily referred to you using pet names and rarely ever your actual name. And it was getting frustrating.

You were having to start putting genuine effort to not kiss him every time you had a drink and he sat extra close to you. Or when you were invited to parties, and he moved smoothly through the countless questions asking if you were dating.

And while you revelled in the attention it was tearing at your heart slightly as insecurities told you that he would never actually be interested in you. You wanted to scream at him every time he kissed you but wanted to melt into him every time he hugged you, your brain constantly at battle with itself when he was near.

You knew you were due to explode any time soon. So when you were out one night and he was holding you extra close, you pulled away, muttering an excuse about getting another drink.

Standing at the bar as you waited you rested you head in your hands for a second before you saw a man begin to approach you. He was attractive, not like Fenrys, but honestly you would take anything to get your mind of him at the moment, so you smiled at him, tilting your head.

“What’s a doll like you doing all alone?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly, unlike the smooth, deep timbre you were used to, but you just laughed.

“Waiting for a man to not dehumanise me,” you bit back, and he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, what would you prefer?” he flirted, sidling up closer to you as you turned to face him.

“Can’t go wrong with ma’am,” you joked, and he laughed, looking down and shaking his head, only to look back up, his eyes going wide. You felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist and looked up to see Fenrys, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as he glared at the man in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice deep and full of authority, the man in front of you shrinking under his gaze.

“Shit sorry man, didn’t realise she had a boyfriend,” he apologised and this time you did roll your eyes.

“He’s not my-“ you began but Fenrys cut you off.

“Yeah she does, so back the fuck off.” You looked down as he spoke, shaking your head as tears of frustration built in your eyes. You harshly pulled out of his grip, leaving the bar as quickly as you could, wiping away the escaped tears as you heard Fenrys follow after you, shouting your name.

You whirled around when you got outside, your glare murderous.

“You do not get to do that!” you shouted as he moved closer to you.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry,” he began but you cut him off.

“NO! I am not your girlfriend! You have never once asked me to be so you don’t get to try scare away any guy that might have genuine interest in me!” his shoulders slumped as you spoke. Truthfully, he has been working up the courage to ask you out for months, and while he knew it was unfair how he treated you, he couldn’t help himself. He was addicted. He thought of you constantly, the texture of your skin, the smell of your hair, the way your eyes lit up and the way you moved your hands as you spoke. So when he saw you engage with the man that had the audacity to talk to you, his grip tightened on his glass so much it shattered, ignoring the worried looks from Aelin and Rowan as he stomped over to you.

“(y/n) listen, I’ve been an asshole I know,” he raised his hands, tentatively stepping towards you, “But I really care about you, and I want to be yours.”

You laughed bitterly, “You’re just saying that.”

He shook his head vehemently, stepping closer to you again and wrapping his arms around your shoulders so gently, one would think you were made of glass.

“I love you darling, please be mine,” he said into your hair, and you pulled back, looking up at him through glassy eyes before nodding slightly.

“I love you Fenrys,” he smiled down at you before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against your mouth, pouring his heart into the action. You gasped slightly as your lips met and he smiled widely against your mouth as the bond clicked into place.

“You know this means I now have an excuse to break the nose of any man that talks to you,” he whispered against your lips, and you giggled, shoving at his shoulder gently.

“I’m still annoyed at you,” you muttered, and his eyes darkened.

“Well I’m sure I can make it up to you.”

[sirthisisa-wendys]

Hi! your writing is so amazing and I always come back to the Geto x reader works you did. I’d love to request a strong female reader whos a warrior that catches Geto’s eye. I know this is vague but I hope it can give you some ideas. Again thank you for your amazing writing its so entertaining 💗💗

The Commander: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.7k

tw: NSFW

masterlist

Suguru knew what might happen if he began allowing females into the King's Guard.

He knew what circumstances he would be putting his men - and himself - in if he did this.

But his troops were so few... and the King himself even had the grand idea that it would be best if they had women in the Gaurd to boost morale in his regime.

He caved the day Satoru - with his glassy blue eyes and somber expression - told him that he had to fix public opinion in his favor - or else. Suguru knew this threat was hollow, but the fact that Satoru - his best friend since childhood - thought it was time, well... that was enough to persuade him.

As announcements went out around the country, Suguru didn't really expect anyone to show up for training. Training as a King's Guard was brutal, and the regiment would include fasting, staying awake for three nights in a row, and building rapport with the others in order to complete the final task - a trek up the highest peak in the middle of winter.

And at first, no one did. Suguru smirked to himself every day that passed, bringing forth no new women into the fold. Perhaps things could be kept as they were. Things could remain as they always had been, and no one would get hurt.

But on the third day of recruitment, you came swaggering in through the gates of the training grounds, pack loaded up on your back and eyes determined.

Everyone held their breath - that's something that Suguru remembered quite well - until you stated your name loudly for all to hear, and dumped your pack onto the ground with a thud.

"I'm y/n from the Whispering Hills," you stated, hands resting on your hips. "And I've come to join the King's Guard."

____________________________________________________________

Everyone knows better than to laugh at a child of the Whispering Hills. The people from that area of the country are famed for their ruthlessness, unwavering loyalty, and quick tempers. They also believe in the Old Gods, which were banned from being worshipped long ago by the king before Satoru's father.

But no one seems to care that you wake up at the crack of dawn, walk out into the field with your nightclothes still on, and kneel in the direction of the hills with your eyes closed and hands folded in prayer.

No one says a word when you stay behind to eat and the others go off to pay tribute to the New Gods with offerings of wheat, grains, and fruits.

No one, not even Suguru, bothers you when you slay an animal and burn it on a makeshift altar (animal sacrifices are also forbidden) because they know you will cut them to pieces without even blinking an eye. And you'd be fully justified in doing so.

Suguru watches you do all of this, his eyes assessing you carefully as you train with the other men without missing a beat, without being injured or tapping out.

And for some reason, the deepest fear he had begins to blossom in his chest like an unbidden guest taking residence in his space. He's watched you for a few weeks now, just being yourself - but has never spoken to you one-on-one. Why hasn't he just--

"Commander."

The voice belongs to you, and you stand above him, looking just as you did on the first day you arrived. Suguru's eyes dilate and he swallows hard past the lump in his throat.

"Yes, y/n?"

"I must request a short leave of absence to meet with my people at the foot of the hills. It is festival season."

"I cannot permit you to leave training for your festivals," Suguru looks back down at his papers, shrugging. "You made a commitment to remain here with us during your training. You must keep that promise or be kicked out of this year's recruits."

Suguru doesn't see the shift in your stance, but he can feel the air around him shift from respectful to hostile. When he looks up at your expression, though, you look perfectly fine.

"Understood."

_____________________________________________________________

But things were not fine.

"Sir! She's refusing to do anything, and we can't complete the trek up the mountain without her in our group."

Suguru's had enough of your non-compliance. Ever since he said "no" to you going back to your hometown, you'd been unmoved from your station in your tent. Festival season was long over, but you'd remained in your tent, alone, and unwilling to reemerge.

The flaps on the tent swing open as Suguru storms in, his hair and eyes wild with disdain.

"Get up," he mutters, and you rise from your bed, looking over at him with bleary eyes. "You made a commitment."

"You do not honor my gods," you begin, wiping your eyes. "I will not come out until the moon has completed its course."

"I said, get up." Against his better judgment, Suguru pulls you up out of your bed by your arm and drags you to your feet. You sneer at him and bark the command to let you go, but Suguru ignores you - again, a poor move on his part. Because then, without speaking, you launch into an attack.

Suguru's been studying you carefully, and he knows your go-to moves, dodging them with ease and skill. You can hardly catch him off guard as your fight spills out into the open, calling the attention of all of the guards-in-training around you.

Suguru's long hair flies in the wind as he ducks, avoids, swiftly blocks, all while you're on the offensive, face turning a deep shade of red as you try to land a single blow on his body. If you could just get him once... then you'd have a personal achievement and a justified temper.

"Your temper is unyielding," Suguru pants, face splitting into a wild grin. "But your body cannot last as long as mine."

"We'll see about that," you reply, hands and fists flying with precision. After a few more moments of this back-and-forth, Geto stops you with two well-timed punches; one to the stomach, and one to the chest. You stumble back to catch your breath, vision blurring, but his hands grip yours behind your back, twisting them painfully.

"Yield."

"I will not yield," you grit out, pain shooting up your arms.

"Yield and I will spare you the punishment that follows."

"I will not yield!" you scream, bucking against the brute strength of the man.

"Your pride will cost you, then."

_____________________________________________________________

Your pride cost you more than just discomfort.

As you lay at the foot of Suguru's bed, your mouth whispers silent curses upon the Commander.

"Hush," Suguru gripes from his perch at his desk. "Your cursing is much too loud for my ears. I must focus."

"I hope you're never able to focus again," you snap, hands tied behind you.

"Such a sweet thing to say to your commander, soldier."

"I hope you choke on it." Suguru looks up from his book, but not at you, contemplating taming that snarky mouth of yours. But he decides against it, returning to his scribing.

Why are his hands shaking so bad, though? Had it really been so long since he felt challenged in a fight? And not only challenged but terribly aroused?

Suguru tries to fight these feelings day in and day out, looking at you with some terrible form of lust in his mind circling around him and making him go insane.

What could he do?

What should he do?

When he sees you laying on the floor with a death glare, he wants to break out into laughter and tell you to lighten up, but he knows if he does, he'll be ruined as a commander in your eyes. He must be stern, tough, unyielding, unshaken. All the things he's always been.

"You take yourself too seriously," you whisper, and Suguru looks over at you again, his brow raised.

"And you don't?"

"This isn't about me," you mutter, looking over your shoulder at your tied hands. "This is about your appearance." She's not wrong. "You want to seem strong. I've been eyeing you, Commander. I know how you work."

"Then you know I'm not going to let you get away with anything because you're a woman."

"But you do have a soft spot for me." Suguru rolls his eyes, despite you being absolutely right. "That's why I thought you'd let me go home for a few days. I see the way you look at me. Have you seen the way I look at you?"

"Don't," Suguru bites out, trying his best to avoid looking you in the eye. "Don't do that."

"Have you thought about me in your bed, Commander?" Suguru's breath hitches and he wonders if you'd snuck into his mind at some point, watching him watching you. "Or should I call you Suguru?"

The alarm bells in his mind are ringing, but something in Suguru lurches anyway, wanting you to say his name like that again.

"Y/n, this is neither the time, nor the place, nor the man you want to test you womanly wiles on."

"Oh?" You produce both of your hands, now untied, for him to see. "Or is it the perfect time, the perfect place, and the perfect man who has me all alone in his tent for the evening?" Suguru stiffens as you walk around to where he's seated, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "You going to show me who the strongest is, Commander? Or are you going to sit there and let yourself be taken by a woman, again?"

The answer is clear by the third hour of the morning.

Your hips smack backward, and Suguru hisses, hand coming down on your asscheek again.

"Tell me who the strongest is," Suguru huffs above you, one hand holding both of your wrists on the bed.

"You are," you breathe, looking over your shoulder at his pleased expression, dark eyes drinking in your features with the lust you'd preyed on earlier. "You're the strongest."

"That's right," Suguru exhales, leaning over your back and whispering in your ear. "I'll always be the strongest between the two of us. Don't forget that, y/n."

[cinnaminsvga]

A Boy Like You | Yoongi

→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff → warnings: an overabundance of shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to squish his cheeks; kinda ooc but it is what it is → words: 11.5K → a/n: whaddup kids it’s ya girl... back from the dead after months of not writing shit, and what’s this owo... it’s a fluff fic?? miracles do happen... anyway i wrote this bc i just thot “man, wouldn’t it be super epic if i wrote a super self-indulgent fic where yoongi fulfills every single one of my deepest desires?” well... here is THIS!! pls feel free to scream into a pillow bc i certainly did!! enjoy!!

There is a boy you know who likes to show his kindness quietly. It would go something like this:

The air is thick with static; your hair stands up on end: a warning. The scent of raindrops hitting hot pavement graces your nostrils as a waterfall drops from the sky. You see the sea of heads begin to disappear under a canopy of multi-colored umbrellas. You, the lone ranger, rush back into the building from whence you came, dragging puddles and annoyance with you.

You should have anticipated it, should have thought to check the weather app before scrolling through dull social media posts when you left your house that morning. Instead, your fingers are left cold and umbrella-less.

You tilt your head upwards, watching as gallon upon gallon fell from the sky in an endless cycle. The watch on your wrist reads 5 PM, but the sky says it is 9 PM. The dark, swirling mass of clouds above you will continue on its thunderous parade, pausing for no one, especially not for you.

Your work bag is practically weightless, devoid of anything that might protect you from the onslaught of rain. The only thing inside is a small wallet that holds nothing more than dust and a loose promise of a paycheck. There is no way you can call a taxi like this, and the nearest bus stop is at least two blocks away. You are starting to think that your childhood dreams of becoming a mermaid hadn’t been so ridiculous after all.

Then comes the hand of God. It touches your shoulder gently, hesitantly. You turn around to face a stranger, a boy with shaggy black hair and pale moonlight skin. It is not God, but he comes close.

In his other hand is your salvation wrapped in Kumamon print nylon. It is proffered to you with a silent nod, his gaze fixed somewhere behind you as he waits for you to take it. The tips of his ears begin to redden the longer it takes for you to respond. Eventually, your brain connects with your muscles as you robotically pluck the umbrella from his grasp, a stuttered “thanks” leaving your lips.

He nods stiffly once more, removing his palm from your shoulder as though he had been burned. He shuffles for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words to say. You wait, patience never waning for the strange boy that you have come to know as your salvation.

He doesn’t find the words after all. You aren’t too offended by his silence, but he appears to be mortified. And so, he leaves just as quickly as he had appeared, like a whirlwind dressed in an oversized blazer flapping behind him like wings. He runs through the rain without another thought, an arm raised above his head in a futile attempt to avoid getting wet.

You try calling out to him, wanting to thank him once more and maybe to ask how you can return his umbrella, but he is long gone. A speck of black dashing through the gray.

You clutch the umbrella closer to you, a feeling of something new growing inside of you. It is too small to call anything, but it is warm.

x x x x x

Umbrella boy has a name, and he happens to work on the same floor as you. You know this because he is standing right in front of you in all his bespectacled glory.

He ducks out of view the moment your eyes meet his. There is a stack of folders in his arms, and he bows his head until his nose touches manila. It’s too late––he knows you caught him staring. He scurries behind walls of filing cabinets and desk cubicles, desperate to get back to his desk where he hopes you’ll never find him.

The office floor is large, but it is not large enough to hide in. It takes only a few minutes until you find him hunched over his desk, every inch of space taken by enough towers of paper to cover a forest. It is no wonder that you never encountered your mysterious umbrella boy; he does a wonderful job of blending in.

Your eyes trail his form, not out of any perverse intent, but just out of curiosity. You never would have guessed from his unassuming and meek nature, but the boy is devastatingly beautiful. The devil is in the details: you admire the soft slope of his nose to the adorable pout of his lips. His eyelids are charmingly mismatched and his cheeks are begging to be pinched. It takes a year’s worth of self-restraint to keep your hands at your sides, if only so you don’t scare him away before you can even introduce yourself.

(You can already imagine your HR department contacting you about nonconsensual manhandling… You admit that you tend to get overzealous with your affection, especially when confronted with cute things. This boy would definitely need to watch out for you if he knows what’s best for him.)

((Also note to self: Stop having these psychopathic conversations with yourself. Being stuck inside the cage which is your brain is torture enough, so let’s not encourage it to get worse.))

There is a lanyard laced around his neck, the gaudy orange color of your company’s logo emblazoned across the thin material. And just out of your line of sight, you catch a glimpse of his ID. His name is––

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters out–no–he squeaks. Ah, so he’s noticed you. The folder in his hand slips out of his grasp, an avalanche of white tumbling all over his lap. He curses loudly, frantically sweeping away the mess under his desk, as if he could somehow magically make them disappear if he just kicked them hard enough. Unfortunately, the papers stay stubbornly tangible, and he is left with a halo of accounting reports around his workspace as a result.

“Are you… umm…” You hesitate with your words, fearing that any sudden movement on your part might cause umbrella boy to combust on the spot. “Do you need help… picking those up?”

“I–Well, no–Yes, but–” His sentences are stilted, his brain struggling to catch up with his tongue. He clamps his mouth shut, then shakes his head like he’s trying to reboot himself. Finally, after a few more deep breaths, he goes, “No. I’m fine. Thank you for offering.” He says that, but he appears awfully content with staring holes into the keyboard of his laptop when he is speaking to you though.

“Still… I’m terribly sorry for startling you,” you say, lips tugging downwards into a frown. You should have guessed he was skittish from how he had acted yesterday, but it’s quite a surprise to see one man so… disastrous, for lack of a better term. It’s awfully cute. “I just wanted to properly introduce myself and thank you for lending me your umbrella yesterday, but it seems like you already knew who I was.”

His face does a weird thing then and there. It almost appears like he was caught in a time loop, like someone was manually reversing and replaying his facial expressions like a video. It takes a few minutes for his little stroke to settle down, but even then, his cheeks remain a rosy pink. “I–I just… remembered your name during the company retreat the other month. I’m not weird or anything, I swear!”

“Well luckily, I was never going to accuse you of being weird anyway!” You laugh, trying to ease the perpetual look of anxiety on his face. However, it only seems to worsen his nerves with how quickly his skin starts to redden. “In fact, I should be apologizing for not remembering your name, Mister..?”

“Min Yoongi,” he replies, pausing for a second too long. He must have realized his delay because he coughs awkwardly into his forearm, averting his gaze away from you in a futile attempt to become nothing more than an abstract thought.

He must be equipped with some sort of superpower, because you’re starting to feel his secondhand embarrassment flood through you like a tsunami. Are you that difficult to converse with? Does he want to be left alone so badly that he’s trying to subtlely tell you to fuck off?

You’re about to start apologizing and scurry off back to your desk in barely concealed mortification when Yoongi clears his throat, his gaze fixed somewhere to your right. Whatever caught his attention must have been revolutionary with how large his eyes are, although last you remember is that the wall behind you is the same dull jailcell gray that you have come to know and hate.

“I just… I’m sorry if I’m acting odd right now. I just wasn’t expecting you to come to my cubicle and I would’ve… I don’t know, tidied up? If I knew you were coming,” he mutters, propping his glasses back up when they start sliding down his nose. They make their slow descent back down immediately after, forever on an endless cycle of up and down his face.

“You don’t have to clean up just for me! I’m not your manager or anything,” you say, surveying the absolute disaster zone that is his workspace. For his benefit, you sure hope that he has a map of his desk and filing cabinets, as it would have been a miracle otherwise if he memorized where anything was located in his personal office sty. “Though, it would be nice if you could see the bottom of your desk every once in a while.”

To your immense surprise, Yoongi lets out a resounding laugh at your quip. Though Yoongi isn’t a mute by any means, it isn’t like he spoke with much volume either. You hadn’t even thought your joke was funny enough to deserve a strained Caucasian™️ smile, so you appreciate that he had considered that you were even slightly funny. You love the pleasant tinkling of his laughter, so genuinely joyous that you can’t help but want to make a fool of yourself just so you can hear it again and again.

When Yoongi stops, the familiar reddish hue that has made a home on his cheeks resurfaces, though it’s less from embarrassment now. His shoulders are more relaxed, and he doesn’t look like he wants to crawl out of his skin as much. He still has eyes averted away from you, however. “Sorry. I don’t know why I laughed too hard at that. I’m normally not this weird… I think it’s just the nerves.”

You cock your head to the side. “Nerves? From what?”

Yoongi freezes, mouth gaping open slightly. “I, umm…” He coughs into his white button-up sleeve, pupils shaking as he formulates a response. “Just from… work. Yeah, I just have a lot of paperwork to do this week and I’ve been, er, having difficulty relaxing.”

Yoongi visibly breathes a sigh of relief when you accept his flimsy excuse, not really lingering on the validity of his statement. “Oh, sure! Don’t overwork yourself too much, okay?” you say, smiling sweetly back at him. He stares, wide-eyed, not really sure how to go on with his life after he’d been blasted by the full force of your grin.

God, you hope you remembered to use a toothpick during lunch. Was there spinach in your teeth? Oh fuck.

“Gah,” he intones, his brain not fully cooperating with his mouth just yet. If you were any more socially inept, you’d probably be doing the same. Eventually, he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh. Yes. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Feeling like you’ve overstayed your visit, you decide that it might be best for you to leave him be before either of you do or say anything more awkward and stupid. Before you turn to leave however, you decide to extend your hand forward, hoping to erase all the previous awkwardness between the both of you and hopefully start afresh. Even though you’ve only just met, you can’t help but feel drawn to him, wanting to see him again and somehow gain his friendship. “Hey, no sweat. It was really nice meeting you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he says, almost like an afterthought. He’s so busy staring at your proffered hand that you are afraid that you might have offended him unknowingly or something. Does he think you don’t wash your hands? Given by the fact that your office’s manager refuses to restock the soap dispensers at the washrooms, that isn’t that much of a stretch. Or maybe he was weirded out by your random handshake? Have handshakes become antiquated these days? Are the kids no longer doing it? Are you supposed to do those awful brohugs like the fresh-out-of-college interns do in the breakroom? Oh God, does Yoongi think you’re old?!

While you were in the midst of your mental breakdown, you soon begin to realize why Yoongi had contemplated returning your handshake for so long. Instead of taking your hand immediately, Yoongi rubs his own two palms together first, much like how one would when warming their hands in front of a fire. He takes care to blow on them slightly before grasping your hand firmly in his, finally bestowing you with your much awaited handshake.

“Umm..?” You stare at your intertwined hands, a little confused about the previous series of events that just happened five seconds ago. Yoongi, in all his adorable and flustered glory, releases your hand much too quickly like he’s been shocked, most likely realizing (belatedly) that what he had done might not be as clear to an observer as it is to himself.

“Oh, I – I’m so sorry about that, again.” Yoongi stutters, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just – my hands are really cold so I was trying to warm them up before I held your hands. I’m – I only just realized how odd that must have looked. Sorry.”

A rush of endearment and warmth surges through you as you behold this high strung boy, your heart flooded with a mix of emotions that make you feel gooey and blissful in one perfect package. No, this boy is the perfect package, all soft edges and blushy cheeks. It’s going to take a mountain and a room of vengeful deities to stop you from walking past his desk to catch a glimpse of him at this rate.

Oh God, you’re whipped already and it’s only been a few minutes since you said hello. He warmed his hand for you for heaven’s sake! Surely your enthusiasm can be excused in this one instance.

“That’s, uhh…” Now it seems that it is your turn to be at a loss of words, your throat clogged with a clump of newly discovered feelings that you don’t have enough time to sort through at the moment. The hamster running circles inside your brain has long since ground to a halt, and if Yoongi is going to keep staring at you with those charming cat eyes for any longer, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to convince the little vermin inside your skull to puppet your body again. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

Thank you? Really, Y/N?

“It’s, uh, no problem. Really.” And with that, Yoongi presents to you his most deadly smile to date: blinding whites coupled his prominent pink gums, with his cheeks stretched like proofed dough that make his dark eyes disappear. Is there a pencil wedged inside your chest cavity, or were you just spontaneously having a heart attack? It’s hard to say; all you know is that your organs have turned to slush, and you make a mental note to send the imminent hospital bill to a certain Min Yoongi.

Cause of hemorrhage: being too fucking cute.

With your daily dose of embarrassment fulfilled, you turn to leave with short stilted steps, as if you have to force yourself away from him like those stubborn souvenir shop magnets that never come off the fridge. “I guess I’ll see you around?” you say more like a question, unsure if he’ll even want to ever see you after that disaster of an interaction. Kim Namjoon from Accounting would be entirely too delighted if he ever found out that he wasn’t the most awkward human being in the office.

“Sure? I’ll just be here. As always,” Yoongi replies kindly, same gummy grin on his face, albeit a little more hesitant. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N.”

When he returns his attention to his workspace, it serves as a signal to you that you really should be going. Before you leave, you take note of the subtle red tint of his ears that reaches the back of his neck, the gentle tremor of his hands as he reorganizes the files that he had previously dropped. It makes you feel odd for relishing in the fact that you hadn’t been the only one feeling the tension between the two of you, though that doesn’t help lessen the confusion that soon follows anyway.

Why are you so drawn to him? You have never felt so strongly for someone this quickly, and frankly it sort of frightened you. You’re too afraid to confront that blossoming curiosity inside of you. No, it’s much too soon for that. For now, however…

“Oh shit. I totally forgot to give him back his umbrella,” you curse yourself once you return to your desk. The smiling face of Kumamon looks at you knowingly, as if this had been planned all along.

Well. Now you have an excuse to see him again tomorrow, at least.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his tenderness quietly. It would go something like this:

Company dinners shouldn’t feel like as much as a punishment as it does, but that’s just how social gatherings with semi-professional coworkers are like. No one here really wants to be there, but the carefully worded e-mail sent to the entire company clearly suggests that this was more of a “go to the party or risk getting fired” type of deal than anything remotely enjoyable. As much as free food and booze are often harbingers of a good time, it hardly makes any difference when your inebriated boss spends the entire time chatting you up in front of the presence of a dozen or so indifferent associates.

“Oh, Y/N! Good job securing that deal with Mister Park the other day. It’s all thanks to my valuable tutelage, is it not?” your manager guffaws, slapping your back with misplaced camaraderie. He leaves his warm, sweaty palm there, feeling it slide an inch lower than you were comfortable with anyone being. The smell of cheap wine on his breath is making you feel nauseous, and the tacky black and white tiled flooring isn’t doing anything to lessen the incoming migraine.

“Right,” you say with a tight-lipped smile, unable to say anything else lest you lose your job over something silly like establishing boundaries. It’s no wonder that the number of female employees on your floor has significantly dropped over the years, especially with rumors attaching themselves like maggots all over your stupid manager’s name. You wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach exploded ala Alien (1979) style with how much bullshit resides in his body and soul.

You’ve long since given up on anyone saving you, not when everyone was either too busy taking advantage of the free food or too scared to confront your shitty boss. You resign to your fate, ready to scrub yourself clean with a brick once you get home in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the feeling of his hands on you.

That is, until someone clears their throat from behind you.

Salvation comes to you wrapped in a crisp white button-up, thick-rimmed glasses, and cat-like eyes. You almost want to start breaking into Gregorian chant just then to fully express your gratitude to the deities of above for sending an angel in your time of tribulation.

“Excuse me,” the (welcome) intruder says, voice quiet but clear even amidst the cacophonous music and chatter. Min Yoongi steps forward until he is to your right, and you don’t miss the way his shoulder “accidentally” bumps your manager hard enough for him to drop his hand from your back. When Yoongi smiles at your manager, it is all teeth and no mirth, his eyes carefully blank.

Thankfully, your manager isn’t quite as fortunate in his brains department as he is in his stomach. “Oh, Yoongi! It is so nice to finally see you attend one of our social functions. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?” your manager asks, guffawing loudly despite no joke being said. You never did quite understand how some men think they are the most hilarious thing to ever exist since clowns, though you suppose your manager was only missing the red nose to complete the look.

“Thrilled, Mister Lee. Absolutely thrilled,” Yoongi says in a dead monotone voice. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, and Yoongi points a wicked grin back at you before returning to his neutral and passive “work” face.

The sarcasm flies over your managers head like you expected, though you can hardly blame the alcohol for his lack of cognizance. You wouldn’t be half surprised if you knocked lightly on his head, only to hear a resounding echo following thereafter.

“I have never seen you at any of our parties before, Yoongi. What’s with the sudden change of heart?” your manager asks.

“Sir, I’ve attended every single social gathering since I was hired,” Yoongi says plainly, his composure never faltering. He must have better control than you, because you’re sure you would’ve barely held yourself back from smacking your manager had it been you. Though in fairness, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever noticed Yoongi at any of the other parties before this one either.

“Oh really? Well then, you mustn’t have said hello before then!” your manager laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “Always so enigmatic, our dear Yoongi! Well, keep up the good work.” When your manager turns his attention to speak to another one of your poor coworkers, Yoongi visibly gags from behind your manager’s back, grimacing as he pats away all traces of that foul man’s hand germs away from his dress shirt.

“Gross. Now my sleeve is damp,” he mutters, just audible enough so that only you could hear. You laugh out loud at that, nodding in understanding.

“Same here. There’s probably a gross sweaty handprint on my back now,” you say, wincing when you do feel a noticeable damp spot near the small of your back. “Ugh, what a pig.”

“Tell me about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, making a move to get away from your awful manager. He gestures for you to follow him, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” you add, keeping in step with him. He leads you out of the disorienting ballroom, though he doesn’t head towards the exit like you had expected. He appears to know the building much more than you do, given by how assuredly he walks. Either that, or he could be leading you to a deadend, but confidently.

“No problem. You honestly looked like you were about to punt him across the room, though I doubt anyone would be opposed to that magnificent spectacle,” Yoongi jokes, same mischievous grin from before decorating his face. He is so different from the taciturn man you had met two weeks ago, back when he had half-hidden behind his desk like an animal being cornered. Though, that might not be the best analogy to think of, as it only painted you as some sort of predator who came after meek and soft-looking men. Which you aren’t. Hopefully.

“Oh, I would’ve done more than just that, so really he should be thanking you for saving him,” you snort, and Yoongi chuckles lightly in response. Like before, his laughter is just as pleasant as you remember. Your greedy heart yearns to elicit the same sound from him once more, for as many times as you can muster before the night ends.

You had been so immersed in trying to keep up with his quick strides that you don’t notice where exactly he has taken you. The two of you haven’t gone too far away from the ballroom before he stops right in front of a metal double door, the neon green exit sign about it glowing conspicuously in the otherwise dimly lit corridor. He pushes it open, allowing the cool evening air to blow across you and your hand-me-down dress.

“Are we… at the balcony?” you ask, though the view that greets you is answer enough. How Yoongi could have known where the balcony is, you can’t say for certain. But any sort of question dies on your lips when you see how beautiful the skyline is: the stars and city lights twinkling indiscriminately, the sound of nightlife and traffic sounding loud despite the streets being so far away, the smell of ozone signalling an oncoming storm.

This, of course, is what you imagine the view to be like. You know, if the ever reliable Seoul smog wasn’t there to obstruct any sort of magical, romantic view that you should have been privy to.

“Oh damn. I forgot the smog forecast today was especially bad,” Yoongi groans from beside you, quickly shuffling through his pant pockets for a face mask. He procurs two black masks, still in their plastic packaging, and hands one of them to you. “Jesus. Sorry about this. Didn’t expect the smog to be so bad… We can just go back inside, if you want?”

Then, you are reminded of your manager, who is basically pollution incarnate with how terrible his breath is. So, you accept Yoongi’s proffered mask and promptly put it on. “Yeah, no thanks,” you say, voice muffled slightly by the fabric. The implication of your acceptance makes Yoongi grin cheekily back at you (or so you think, guessing by how his eyes crinkle cutely above his mask.)

Now properly equipped to not inhale disgusting air matter into your lungs, you step out farther across the balcony, enjoying the way the cool night breeze feels against your alcohol flushed face. (Though, if you were being honest, the heat on your cheeks has less to do with the meager flute of champagne you had earlier and more to do with the company you currently find yourself with.)

“I fucking hate these company dinners,” you whine a little bit too petulantly, complete with the jutted lip of a child who has been forced to wait as her mother engages in an eternity long conversation with an acquaintance. You lean against the railings near the edge of the building, watching idly as Yoongi does the same. “Don’t you think that if they wanted us to get ‘closer’ with one another, they’d first want to address the fact that some of our coworkers happen to be pigs dressed in white collared shirts?”

Yoongi snorts at that, his right hand immediately coming up to his mouth to silence the unflattering sound. Not that it wasn’t completely charming to you, but you do enjoy the slight abashment that blooms across his face shortly thereafter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh like that. But, I do agree with you… I can’t say that anyone in our department is especially fond of that Habsburg motherfucker.”

Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your system, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of realizing that Yoongi is strangely attractive when he swears, but the laugh that exits your mouth sounds a touch too crazed for your liking. Either that, or perhaps you’re finally dying from the pollution.

Luckily for the both of you, it seems that Yoongi likes your weird laugh just as much as you like his. He tries to hide a smile before continuing, “Like, come on! I’m sorry for saying that because attacks on physical appearance is always a low blow, but why the fuck does that dude look like he’s been compressed and flattened on Photoshop? He’s got perpetual flat-face syndrome. You could -  you could land a damn plane on his face or some shit.”

The cork inside of your bursts, and you let out the most ungodly guffaw in your life. You don’t even have the time to be embarrassed by how loud your howls are, not when every word he says hits the mark a little bit too close to home. There’s nothing quite as pleasing than sharing mutual dislike for the same person, and it fills you with the utmost glee that Yoongi is no exception to that rule.

“Oh god… You’re right. You are absolutely right. I seriously can’t believe anyone can put up with him. I mean, the damned bastard couldn’t even remember my name until two weeks ago,” you say, shaking your head in disgust. The first few times he had forgotten, you had been gracious enough to laugh away his mistakes as little more than that: mistakes. But when five years pass and peanuts-for-a-brain still hasn’t deemed that remembering your name to be as important as when the “next big Game™” is, then it’s easy to understand the depth of your resentment towards your manager.

“Are you for real?” Yoongi asks, brows raised in shock. “How could anyone ever forget you – I mean, shit, uh,” Yoongi coughs suddenly, red-faced. You tilt your head in confusion, waiting for him to finish. He’s still kind of spluttering when he continues, “What I meant to say is… H-how could anyone forget their employees name after working here for so long?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea. Honestly, I think he’s trying to purposefully forget everything I tell him. One time, he had asked me what plans I had for Christmas, and I mentioned to him how I was going to be visiting my parents back home, and he has the gall to ask what country I’m from. Like???” Your face contorts as if you had eaten an entire lemon, so wracked with disbelief that Yoongi can see the hypothetical question marks floating above your head. “Bitch, do I look foreign to that bastard? I’ve lived here all my life!”

Yoongi hums, thoughtful. “Your parents live just an hour away from here, right?”

“I… Yeah, they do,” you reply. You eye Yoongi curiously, watching his all-too familiar flush resurfacing on his neck once more. “Wait… How do you know that?”

“You… You were talking about them, once. To Seulgi? Yea, you were, um…” Yoongi coughs unassuredly, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous tick of his, you suppose. “It was a year ago? Something about visiting them during the weekend… Not that I was eavesdropping on purpose! I would never, er, do that…”

You don’t even register his embarrassment as you are mostly shell shocked that he had even remembered that little tidbit from over a year ago. Hell, you didn’t even remember going to your parent’s house until he mentioned it. “No it’s fine, I get it. I’m just surprised that you even bothered to remember that.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you strangely. “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”

You stare at him in disbelief. Fluttering of wings begin to erupt in your stomach, but you hardly have the peace of mind to fully grasp why you were even feeling so flustered in the first place. It was just that he had said it so… matter-of-fact, like there was no possible way he could’ve forgotten even if he tried. It was kind of disconcerting, but flattering all the same. But more importantly--

“Wait, you’ve been working at the company since last year? How have I never seen you before this month?!”

“Oh,” Yoongi coughs out a laugh, scratching the end of his nose. He turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but you. “I was just, umm… Really quiet? I don’t really talk to anyone unless I need to. I’m more of a listener.”

“Oh my God, now I feel even more terrible for not knowing your name! I must look like an egotistic bitch to you,” you despair lowly, cupping your face into your hands in shame. You feel another pair of cold hands clasp your wrists, and you watch in shock as he pulls your palms away with a determined expression.

“What? Of course not. You are definitely not an egotistic bitch, Y/N. In fact, you’re the complete opposite,” Yoongi whispers, so quiet that you might have imagined it. He grasps your hands tightly, like he’s desperate for you to believe him.

You stammer in embarrassment, staring wide-eyed at Yoongi as you try to regrasp your comprehension skills. It’s especially hard to concentrate with how close Yoongi is to you, the latter unaware of his own proximity. He had stepped closer towards you to hold your hand, and normally you hated it when people touched you without permission, but somehow… This was alright.

(Unbeknownst to you, this will not be the first time that Yoongi becomes your secret little exception. It’s only the first of many.)

“I-I don’t really know what to say?” Your gaze is locked on his firm grip on your hands, the only thing flitting through your mind: damn, this dude’s hands really are fucking freezing!

It takes another few seconds for Yoongi to calm down, and you know when it happens because the realization of what he had said makes itself apparent on his expression. He turns beet red in a second, stepping away from you with his arms flying off of you like those inflatable tube men outside car dealerships.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, taking two steps away from you. You almost take two steps forward to keep the distance closer, but you have a feeling that he would keep walking away from you until you both inevitably fall off the balcony, so you smartly choose to stay away (even if it pains you to do so). You wait for his breathing to settle, all the while still reeling from his blatant confession just moments ago.

Could you even consider it a confession? Were you being delulu, or is there some sort of connection that you and Yoongi were both feeling?

“Yoongi, it’s fine! Really,” you smile wryly, raising your hands towards him open-faced, much like how you would do when approaching an agitated animal. Like a nervous kitty, you think privately to yourself. “I’m really flattered that you feel so… strongly?”

“I’m… I’m really not like this normally. Honest,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… I never… do that. Whatever that was. Umm.”

Because you’re a freak of nature and enjoy exacerbating awkward social interactions, you decide to respond to him like this: “No worries, I’m flattered, honest! But hey, maybe next time you try to give me a compliment, you could look me in the eye?” You know, like an asshole. Who points out people’s social anxieties like that? You bitch!

On cue, Yoongi’s cheeks bloom into cherry blossoms once more. “I––I, I didn’t mean to––uh!” he stammers.

“No, no, I’m sorry for even saying that!” You apologize profusely, bowing so low that he could probably see the top of your spine. “I didn’t mean to tease you like that! I’m sorry! That was seriously out of line!”

What a pair the two of you were… Like two trains crashing into each other at mach speed, continuously and eternally. A constant and ongoing catastrophe!

(The little gremlin living inside your brain is knocking at your empty skull, whispering deviously, “But doesn’t that make the two of you the perfect pair?”)

When he doesn’t respond back immediately, you have to wrack up enough courage to look back at him. You gasp audibly when you do, and you have to forcibly grip the insides of your bicep to keep yourself from squealing in pure anguish.

Because there, right before your very eyes, is a blushing Min Yoongi looking you straight in the eye with his face squished between his hands, as if he’s forcibly keeping his head locked in place. His pupils are noticeably shaking and his brows are furrowed in concentration, but he’s looking at you. Like you asked.

He’s… He’s too…

“Okay, let me try this again.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what may be the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his life. “Y… You’re a great person, Y/N. I hope you know that,” he whispers, voice trailing off by the end of his sentence.

He’s dry heaving like he’s just finished a marathon, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You’re worried if he even remembers how to blink with how intensely he’s staring you down, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him when your heart is quite literally beating out of your chest like a cartoon character from the 80’s.

“I…” You’re at a loss of words. If Min Yoongi can capture you like this with just a look, then think of how much more powerful he would be if he just learned how to use it. You’re slipping into real dangerous waters, and you don’t know if you’re just a frog in boiling water or if this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Yoongi, I didn’t mean for you to… force yourself like that, really…”

The moment breaks, finally, when Yoongi begins to cry.

“Shit!” you both exclaim, but for two different reasons. “Are you okay? Oh my god!” you reach out for him, not even thinking when you cup his cheeks in your hands. He gently pushes you away with one hand, while the other goes to scrub at his tears.

“Yes, I’m fine! A piece of dust got caught in my eye and I was too slow to blink it away,” he explains, still wiping at his cheeks. He pulls his mask down to his chin, pouting cutely at you. “Sorry. I’m not used to looking people in the eye yet. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Oh my god. At this point, you’d be surprised if your heart was located anywhere near your body. You were running purely on autopilot, so enamored by the boy in front of you that you could almost faint. He was entirely too unreal, unbelievably so. Perhaps, if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to find your heart again, and you know the first place where you’d look.

“Give it back,” you mumble, and Yoongi tilts his head at you in confusion.

“Sorry? Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” you reply, reaching over him and snapping his mask back on his face. You laugh as he splutters in surprise, floundering about overdramatically as if the elastic on the mask had done any damage to him at all. “Oh, stop it. You’re just being silly now.”

“Hey, I have delicate skin! You never know,” he jokes, but stops when you give him an unimpressed look.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “And well, since I keep saying sorry today, and you look like you could use a little warming up, do you wanna leave this place and get some coffee? My treat.”

And really, who were you to say no to that?

And really, who were you to say no to Min Yoongi?

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his thoughtfulness quietly. It would go something like this:

A steaming hot coffee cup from the nearby cafe manifests itself on your desk one Monday morning. In your sleep-deprived haze, you had originally failed to realize that there was a hand connected to that cup and that it hadn’t actually just materialized from thin air like you had thought. After much blinking and staring, you crane your head up to see Jesus standing in front of you, his glasses still fogged from the outside chill.

“I got you a drink. I hope I remembered your order right,” Yoongi says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing his lips as he watches you lethargically reach over for the cup to lift the lid open. His grin widens when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of little marshmallows bobbing up and down in your hot chocolate, bits of whipped cream already melting away from the heat. When you take a sip, you breathe a content sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Yoongi, I’m going to kiss your feet right now and you can’t stop me,” you say, upper lip lined with cream and sugar. Yoongi’s hand twitches by his side, but he doesn’t move.

“Even if I have toe fungus?”

“Especially if you have toe fungus,” you say, downing as much hot chocolate down your throat without choking and barfing all over him.

From the rim of your cup, you can see that Yoongi still has his parka on, his signature black mask pulled down his chin indicating that he’s only just arrived at the office. It makes your heart jump a little, knowing that he went straight to you first before anyone else that day.

“I still don’t understand how you hate coffee. Like, I don’t think I’d be able to be conversing with you right now if I didn’t have caffeine running through my veins,” he says, staring at you(r lips) as you chew a marshmallow thoughtfully.

You want to tell him that Yoongi doesn’t talk a lot anyway in the first place, though you have begun to notice that he’s becoming more talkative the more you hang out with him. However, you aren’t quite sure if you’re imagining it, but it seems like Yoongi’s change in personality doesn’t really apply when he’s with anyone else. On the days where you’d pass by his cubicle on the way to the water coolers, he’d still have his usual stoic expression on his face as he goes through his paperwork with the grace of a robot. When he’s with you, however…

“Says the guy who’s started drinking frappes after I suggested them to you. Don’t lie to me, Min Yoongi.” You’re giggling softly, and you can tell Yoongi’s seams are already breaking. Pink gums and straight teeth are seconds away from peaking through. You wink cheekily at him.  “You’re just as sweet as your personality is.”

“Stop, that’s so embarrassing!” he exclaims, hiding behind his hands. He’s already smiling. “I’m not as sweet as you think! I’m a mean guy!”

“Yoongi, you literally just bought me hot chocolate with marshmallows because you remembered what I like. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body,” you retort, rolling your eyes at the prominent pout on his face.

“Not true! I stole an extra coupon booklet when I was at the grocery store the other day.”

“Ooooh, I do love a bad boy,” you say, but the two of you are already laughing hysterically. “Seriously, thanks. I really needed this today.”

“Dang, bad morning already?” he winces, having noticed the purple moons under your eyes when he had approached you. He didn’t want to mention it without you bringing it up first, but he had been worried about you since last Friday when you had left the workplace with a slammed door.

“Try bad weekend. Mr. Lee has been pushing my buttons for months now, but I seriously didn’t think he thought it was a challenge. He’s been giving me shitty filing jobs to complete like I’m some overworked intern!”

Yoongi cocks his head, confused. “Aren’t you, like… In the advertising department? Why would he make you file things?”

“Exactly!” You’re all but roaring now, but Yoongi can’t help smirking at the stray dollop of whipped cream that had somehow found its way on your nose. He pulls his sleeve over his wrist, swiping it away with the fabric as nonchalantly as possible (which is to say, he’s as red as a spanked ass when he does it.)

You don’t even notice his actions, still deep in the abyss of your rage. “And also! My shitty phone ran out of storage space the other day so I’ve had to delete all the songs on my library and I can’t find any good playlists on Spotify to help me dissociate on the train!”

“Wow, that’s a mood,” Yoongi says, chuckling. He clears his throat, an idea popping into his head. He turns bashful all of a sudden, gaze diverting upwards as he musters the courage to say, “I-I mean, I think I can help you with that last problem, if you want…”

You stop huffing and puffing long enough to appear intrigued. “Oh? Are you gonna send me a playlist?”

Yoongi splutters. “I mean! If you want it, I do have some songs that I like listening to.”

Yoongi squeaks when you smile at that, radiant and all-encompassing. He wonders how he’s not dead right now.

“Oh god, that would be great actually! Text me the link, would you?” you say, already making grabby hands for his phone. “Here, lemme put my phone number in your phone.”

Yoongi almost drops his phone as he takes it out of his pocket, staring in awe as he watches you type in your number into his phone. He has to keep himself from outright howling when he sees you place a sunflower emoji beside your name. How fitting, he thinks to himself.

When you return the phone back to him, he immediately texts you the link to his playlist. You have to keep yourself from screaming to the heavens when you see the very Yoongi-esque title, “Songs for the Sleepless,” complete with the grainy-noir-film-type playlist art to complete the look. It was just so… personal, so Yoongi, and it’s making you clench organs that you didn’t know were clenchable.

You whistle at the sheer number of songs on the playlist, with the first song being—“Didn’t peg you as a Lana Del Rey fan,” you pipe up, scrolling through his playlist with acute interest. “Kendrick Lamar and Epik High, I understand. But Lana?”

To his credit, the playlist did seem like it had a narrative of sorts, despite the eclectic range of artists and genres. You only recognize maybe ten of the songs from his five hundred song playlist, and you’re very curious to see what type of songs he connects to.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he shrugs his shoulders, though a little bit embarrassed. “Lana Del Rey could sing my obituary and I’d jump out of my grave in an instant.”

“Bit morbid but okay,” you laugh, finger ready to close your music player app when you catch sight of a song with an artist you didn’t expect to see. You reach over to tug on his sleeve, your sly smile already causing Yoongi to break out in hives. “Hey… I didn’t know you shared your name with a singer, unless, of course…”

Yoongi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when he yelps in surprise, snatching your phone out of your grip as his eyes bug out of his sockets. His ears redden, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall as he tries to explain himself despite your raucous giggling.

“I––You weren’t supposed to––I forgot about! That was––I was just––Ugh,” he groans despairingly, smacking himself in the forehead with your phone. You’re still giggling madly, enjoying the spectacle before you as Yoongi’s ears are practically shooting out steam.

“You’re so cute.” It slips out of your mouth with such ease that you almost don’t notice saying it at all; you’re still smiling dreamily at Yoongi as he stares at you in shock, mouth still agape from his earlier rambling. You gasp loudly when your brain cells finally catch up, but by then it’s already too late. Now, the two of you were a matching pair, with your fire engine red ears standing at attention.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that,” you mutter into your hands. You wish the earth would swallow you whole right now.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that,” Yoongi wails beside you, but you don’t notice the small satisfied smile he’s sporting on his reddened face. “Y-You can’t just say things and not expect me to…”

You look up, wondering why he’d suddenly trailed off at the end. “Expect you to what?”

Yoongi, once again, defies the laws of the universe by somehow turning even redder than humanly possible. “N-nothing. Ignore me. Let’s just admit we’re both embarrassing and carry on, can we?”

“Sure,” you agree, nodding enthusiastically. “But, does that mean I can listen to your songs, Mister Min ‘I’m-a-superstar-singer-in-my-spare-time’ Yoongi?”

“I’m not a superstar! I just record songs in my free time, that’s all,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Says the guy who apparently raps as a hobby! Seriously, I can tell I’m gonna love it already.”

His gaze is turned upwards, cheeks puffed up in embarrassment. He looks like he wants to say something else, however, and you wait for him as he tries to gather the courage to say what else is on his mind. “S-say, I was wondering… Since I’m already here and all, do you want to maybe go out wi—”

“Yo! Hyung!”

A deep voice from across the office floor snaps the two of you out of your little bubble in an instant. It doesn’t take a genius to tell who it is, not when there’s only one person in the entire company who would dare wear a sushi-print tie to work at one of the most lucrative companies in the country.

Kim Namjoon hobbles over to your little cubicle space in all his sushi-print tie glory, knocking over a coworker’s potted plant in the process. Between you and Yoongi, you had been more surprised by Namjoon’s sudden exclamation, mostly because you’d never been particularly close with the eccentric man. Yoongi probably can’t say the same since he had briefly mentioned that he and Namjoon go way back, though you’re starting to have some doubts about that due to the dirty glare Yoongi was currently pointing at the sentient noodles-for-legs.

Namjoon waves cheerily at you before cutting to the chase as he envelops Yoongi in a not-too-gentle hug. “Hyung! I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t at your desk this morning so I was wondering where you’d wandered off, but of course I’d find you here at Y/N’s de––”

Yoongi promptly stomps on Namjoon’s feet, causing the younger to yelp out in pain. “Namjoon. I told you I’d talk to you later.” Yoongi smiles sweetly, but you can see the aura of danger radiating off of him in waves. “Emphasis on later.”

Namjoon pouts petulantly, but he doesn’t look all that offended. “I was just gonna remind you to ask Y/N if she wanted to join us for lunch la––OUCH! WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET!”

Yoongi appears unbothered, not even looking back at Namjoon’s shouts of betrayal. All the while, he still has his gaze trained on you, never wavering for one second.

“Please ignore my colleague. He can a bit… Unnecessarily loud,” Yoongi says, accompanied by Namjoon’s splutters of indignation.

“Umm?? I’m right here?? Your actual best friend?? Geez!” Namjoon huffs, looking at the both of you incredulously. You just shrug your shoulders, completely dumbfounded by the last five minutes of human interaction.

“As Namjoon was saying before we were so rudely interrupted… I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me? Namjoon can join too, but only if he behaves,” Yoongi jokes, smirking at Namjoon’s ireful glares.

You giggle quietly at the unlikely pair, amused beyond belief at this new side of Yoongi that you hadn’t been aware of. So this is how he is with his friends… Cocky Yoongi is definitely someone you wouldn’t mind talking to occasionally, you admit.

“Sure, I’d love to. Just let me finish all this filing crap for Mr. Lee, then I’ll head over to your desk at around 12?” If you work at a breakneck pace, then you could probably finish sooner if you didn’t let anything else distract you. “Oh! And I should probably return your umbrella before you leave. I keep forgetting to give it back to you.”

“No worries,” Yoongi says. “You should keep the umbrella. I’ve got a spare anyway.”

Namjoon’s head whips toward Yoongi at that, staring at him skeptically. “Dude. Ain’t that your favorite Kumamon umbrella though? Didn’t you almost murder me that one time I forgot it at the McDonald’s last mo––WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET! I’M GONNA GET FLATFOOT SYNDROME!”

“Not my problem,” Yoongi replies, pinching Namjoon’s nose for good measure. He turns to you, waving goodbye. “See you in a few?”

You stretch your back, psyching yourself up to get back to work. “Right. I’ll text you when I’m done okay? See you at 12-ish!”

The boys make their leave, bickering all the while. You catch wind of a bit of their conversation as they turn the corner, their voices echoing down the hall.

“Hey, I noticed that you were looking Y/N in the eye when you were speaking. Why don’t you ever look me in the eye when we talk!”

Yoongi snorts, flipping him off. “It’s because you’re not as nice to look at. Simple as that.”

In your seat, you smile secretly to yourself, butterflies erupting in your chest. Filled with newly found fervor, you chip away at the pile of work on your desk until it starts to vanish from view.

Before you know it, you’re off to see Yoongi once more.

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his vulnerability quietly. It would go something like this:

x x x x x 

There is a boy you know who likes to show his love quietly. It would go something like this:

Your day begins with a phone call: a warning. Your boss tells you to come into work as soon as possible, not a note of enthusiasm or friendliness in his tone. He ends the call just as abruptly as it had come, the silence following soon after deafening your ears. Your heart races marathons in your chest, and your brain goes to the worst place it can go.

Your hands are sweating gallons upon gallons as you shrug your coat on, fumbling with your keys as you struggle to place them in your pocket. For a brief moment, you think about calling Yoongi for moral support, but think better of it. You don’t want to bother anyone, especially not him.

You, the lone ranger, walk out of your apartment and into the murky urban outdoors, the first pitter-patters of rain making their descent the moment your foot meets the pavement. You don’t have quite the energy to go back inside to grab your umbrella, not when you’re unsure if you’ll be courageous enough to leave your bedroom once more if you did.

You’d always been a coward, a soft-hearted fool. Content with shouldering the consequences of your actions without another word: a sufferer in silence. For the past few weeks, you thought you might have changed. You’d been smiling a lot more, laughing a lot more. Your cheeks were often more red than any other color these days, and it was all thanks to a boy you know.

He was shy, but brave. Quiet, but talkative. Mysterious, but vulnerable.

He made you realize that there was no need to settle for one side of a coin, not when you could have both. The longer you stuck around him, the stronger your desire was to become… more.

You wanted to be open; you wanted to be known. You wanted to be able to ask for what you want, and never feel the crushing sense of guilt that usually came afterwards. You wanted to be unapologetic, wanted to keep your hands open, waiting for good things to come your way. To never cower in the face of a gift being handed to you. You wanted to have all that life has to offer––

(Him. Him. Him.)

But there is something pitiful about being unable to keep your own promises. The embarrassment of returning to the state where you once were, of turning meek at the first sign of adversity. The dreams of a happier life drifts away from you like mist under the morning sun, and the pressing weight of the world once again makes its home on your shoulders.

And so, you do not cry when your boss tells you to pack up your things within the hour.

You do not cry when you cut your finger on the corner of your desk that had never been replaced during your five-year stay at this company.

You do not cry when one of your potted plants smash to the floor when you try to carry too many things at once.

You do not cry when co-workers you’d only barely spoken to come over to your desk with showers of condolences, as if you’d already died.

You do not cry when Kim Namjoon walks over to you, quietly bending down to help you carry your boxes down to the lobby.

And when all is said and done, you most especially do not cry when Min Yoongi runs to you with his lungs burning in his chest, glasses still fogged up from the morning cold outside. His hair is in disarray and his shirt is on backwards, as if he’d jumped out of bed the moment he knew something was wrong. When he skids to a halt right in front of you, the pain etched on his face is as plain as day.

Wordlessly, he takes the last box out of your hands, placing his car keys on top when he can’t hold onto them both. His eyes flit towards your clenched fists for a second, but looks away the moment you notice. Instead, he walks out to the elevator, and you follow soon after.

You do not cry when Min Yoongi helps you load his car with your things. You do not cry when he takes a first-aid kit out of his glovebox and puts a band-aid on your finger. You do not cry when he offers to pass by the local home depot to pick up a new plant when he notices yours is gone. You do not cry when he doesn’t treat you like your life has ended.

(But you feel it. Pricking along your eyes like a dam about to break. He is doing this to you. He’s making you feel again, and it fucking hurts.)

And so, he drives you home.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yoongi starts after a while, tapping a rhythm away on his steering wheel as he waits for the morning rush traffic to subside. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, worried when you don’t respond. You keep your head pressed against the cool car window, staring blankly at the gray skyline.

“I… I hope you don’t mind if I play you something. Just… Just listen to it, okay?”

You don’t see him, but you hear his fingers switch their tapping to his phone as he unlocks it, searching for the song he wants you to hear. It takes a moment or two for him to find it, soft curses tumbling from his lips as he goes through his Google Drive for the unfinished draft that he hadn’t meant to show you until it was complete, but well––

You were always an exception to him, weren’t you?

The first notes come creeping up from behind you, and it reminds you of the way Yoongi would speak to you. All soft whispers and gummy smiles, like he’s restraining himself. Slowly but surely, the music grows louder, more confident with its sound. You can picture Yoongi standing upright, hand outstretched towards you as he asks you to follow him.

The song is unfamiliar, but there’s something about it that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You’re trying to go through your memories, sorting through the hundreds of songs that Yoongi has made you listen to but none of them seem to ring a bell. You’re still trying to figure out if you’d heard this before when the lyrics finally start.

“Lost in the sea of my regrets, you became my polaris.”

Yoongi’s voice comes from the radio speaker, jolting you from your seat. Your spine straightens, and you stare bullets at Yoongi’s phone as the song continues to play. When you look towards him, Yoongi’s face is a statue; the only thing giving away the fact that he was with you at all was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“The shadows, which had been my haven, no longer feel as good as they once did. You, my light, have changed all of that.”

You gasp, and Yoongi’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. It seems like the two of you stop moving at that moment, neither of you daring to breathe. Even the outside traffic sounds muted compared to the sound of your hearts hammering inside your chests.

“I’ve long since forgotten to pray, but I will remember for you. I only dream of happiness for you, my morning light, my northern star. And I’d give it all up for you.”

Yoongi notices your tears fall before you even do; he’s quick to fluster, scrambling through his car side door for a tissue to hand to you, but he stops the moment he feels your hand fist the elbow of his sleeve. He turns to look at you, all blotchy and tear-stained, but beautiful all the same. And even through your tears, you smile just as radiantly as when he had first seen you.

“Thank you,” you mouth, fingers trembling as you fight to keep more tears from falling, but nothing can stop a dam from breaking. Not when you’re sitting beside the hurricane who broke it in the first place; it was the boy with feelings that never did quite fit in his body the way other people’s did.

Luckily, they fit right in with you.

When the song comes to the end, you’re sniffling up a storm, but you still haven’t let go of him. When you’re only a few minutes away from your apartment, Yoongi parks a little bit far off from your doorstep, so you have to walk the rest of the way home. But you’re still unwilling to let go, not yet.

Gently, Yoongi pries your hand away from his sleeve and you’re about to protest, but the words die on your lips the moment they form when Yoongi rubs his hands along the side of his slacks before placing them in yours. His hands are still cold, but comforting all the same.

“Let me walk you home?” he whispers.

You nod. Of course, you want to say. But he knows what you mean, anyway.

When he goes to unpack your things from the trunk, you shake your head, stopping him from moving any further. “I… I don’t feel like sorting through those things right now. Is it fine with you if I just… Go home for now? Please?” Your brain feels like lead in your skull after all the bottled up tears had finally escaped from years of constant pressure, and you don’t think you’re quite ready to go through all those emotions again. You feel deflated, but better. He always makes you feel better.

Yoongi closes the trunk, locking his car before stretching out his hands for you. You stare at the proffered hand for a moment.

“Oh, right.” Yoongi goes to rub his hands to warm them, but you stop him once more in his ministrations. He looks at you, confused, as you grab his hand from him. You rub circles into his palm, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

“You’re always warming your hands for me… So this time, I’ll warm them for you, okay?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything in response to that. Instead, he tugs you along towards the sidewalk and keeps you close to him. As he walks with you, you notice the way he leans slightly to the left, like he’s drawn to you––like he can’t help be more than an inch further from you.

You keep glancing back down at your linked hands; he’s shaking, but then again, that could also be you.

You arrive at the gate of your apartment quicker than you would have liked. Neither of you move to separate; when you look back at Yoongi, you see that his eyes are trained on you. He doesn’t even flinch away like he used to. His lips are pursed, like he wants to say something but he’s still too afraid to.

So you say it for him instead.

“Do you have… somewhere to be?” Unlike you, he still has a job. He still has commitments. He still has a life outside of you. You’re hit with fear, once again, at the sudden change in your circumstances.

You might never get to see him again. Is this where your paths cross, never to intersect again? Your stomach drops at the thought, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, I don’t. I could…” Yoongi trails off, glancing at your apartment with soft hesitance. “If… If you want me to…”

Yes. Please. I’d love it. I love yo–– ”Yes. Stay with me?” you mumble.

“Always,” he promises.

The pair of you trudge up to your apartment, passing by the prying eyes of housewives with your heads bowed in embarrassment. They don’t miss your pinkies linked behind your backs, nor the subtle blushes on the apples of your cheeks. Thankfully, they don’t comment when Yoongi enters your apartment after you, but they do giggle when his coat gets caught on the door handle in his rush.

When the two of you are finally alone, the air isn’t as awkward as you had feared. You work like two cogs in a machine; he readies your TV and scrolls through your Netflix for a movie, while you go to your kitchen and have a small mental breakdown (while also microwaving some popcorn). Soon, the two of you are snuggled into your small couch, elbows barely brushing against each other.

You’re only half paying attention to the generic action movie that Yoongi had put on; you were still deep in your thoughts. You’re picking away at your hangnail, worrying your lip as you try to enjoy what might be the last time you’ll ever get to hang out with Yoongi again. You’re so deep in your musings that you don’t immediately feel when Yoongi wraps his arms around your shoulder, nestling your head into his chest.

“W… What?” You crane your head and stare at Yoongi in shock, but he’s already returned his attention back to the movie. His cheeks are burning.

You’re still stiff with tension despite his comforting caresses against your hair, so he changes tactics and brings your hand up to his.

You think he’s just going to hold your hand, but he keeps bringing your hand up until it gently caresses his face. Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, he curls your fingers until only your pointer is left unfurled, and casually uses it to poke himself in the cheek.

He leaves it there for a second or two, and when you finally turn to face him, he’s smiling so sweetly at you that you almost feel compelled to cry again. His eyes and nose are all scrunched up, rose petal gums on full display. Your finger is still pressed gently into his soft cheeks.

“You said you liked to dream about poking my bread cheeks. Well, here’s your chance,” he says, like it’s nothing at all. As if what he has done was as simple as breathing.

Yoongi’s smile brightens when he feels your form relax against him, giggling softly when you go to pinch his cheek for good measure.

“Bread cheekies,” you say, like you’re in a trance.

Yoongi nods. “Bread cheekies,” he repeats. “And it’s all yours.”

There’s a promise in there, you know. Somehow, he had sensed your worry and had thought of the perfect way to calm you. Like always, he never has to say it. He’s never needed words, anyway.

The two of you stay like that for hours. The sun sets as surely as the moon rises, and Min Yoongi stays with you through the night. When your mind drifts off and only your steady breathing fills the room, Min Yoongi brushes a small kiss against your forehead.

“Dream of happiness, my love,” he whispers into your skin, just when he thinks you’re asleep, “I’ll dream of you, too.”

It’s a promise that he keeps.

There is a boy you know who never learned how to say he loves you, but it never mattered all that much to you––not when he’s willing to show you over and over again. It goes something like this––