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lilacgaby · 4 months ago

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title: i've changed, won't you see?

pairing: prohero!katsuki x reader

summary: katsuki ruined your life when you were small, giving you a life altering injury, though getting nothing more than a pat on the back. throughout his successes he can't get you out of his mind, so he sets out to make amends with you.

tags: silent voice inspired!! childhood bully katsuki :(, disabled reader, mentions of violence, angst to fluff, su1cide attempt, comfort, implied nsfw, no proofread

(a/n: i wanted to give my hand at really long works while doing drabbles in between but i have so many drafts now jajsjsj)

wc: ~4k

your eyes were always blurry around him it seemed. your hands shaking as your voice cracked, just begging him. "please leave me alone!" with all the might a five year old could muster.

they scoffed at you, they always did. "crybaby. blame your parents for not giving you a quirk. you should've moved when i told you to anyways, it's my park dont you know?" katsuki mocked, moving closer to you, noticing the card behind your back.

"stop being so mean! quirkless people don't do anything wrong!"

"quirkless don't do anything."

your chest was heaving with pain, your little heart couldn't take it. "you-- you'll never be a hero, you're too mean!"

in an act of rage, he set off an explosion. it was only meant to intimidate you but..

once the smoke settled your screams of terror filled the playground.

blood dripped on the floor, pooling in your hand as your grasped your ear. a ringing was all you could hear, it was driving you crazy.

were you crying? you couldn't tell, you couldn't hear. your eyes were shut as you were filled with panic, the smell of iron flooding your senses.

but katsuki remembered so much more.

the smell of the burned cartilage of your ear, the sight of it, or rather the lack of. the blood that wouldn't stop coming, why wasn't it stopping?

his group that usually rallied behind him was now gone, leaving him and a wailing you alone. he tried to talk to you, but you weren't responding.

he grew the courage to touch you, tapping on your shoulder slowly, but that didn't comfort you. in fact he thought it made it worse, making you bow your head in a defensive position.

he stared at you, unable to move, he was supposed to be a hero like allmight, were you right?

finally, a teacher came running to get you, an ambulance already on the way. they didn't look at katsuki, only at the pitiful state you were in.

you didn't respond to them either.

katsuki felt sick as he stood where you and the teacher had left them. he felt sick as he looked down to the remains of what he'd done to you.

he couldn't process it yet, but he felt a sickening despair and guilt be placed upon his shoulders.

one that wouldn't disappear.

he wasn't blamed for anything, only getting a quirk consolation. they thought he lost control? his parents eyed him as he tried to explain what had truely happened, he didn't know why he was trying, did he want to get punished?

but even after, nothing was done. with a lecture and a couple promises he was sent back to class with nothing done to him.

your life was changed forever though, it was apparent in the way that you seemed even more quiet and closed off. you sat in the back, never spoke to anyone, and got teary eyed when he even stood close to you.

your hair covered your ears constantly, a hearing aid peeking through the strands occasionally. the teacher never forced you to participate, none of them ever made an effort.

the teacher had explained to the class how you were completely deaf in one ear, and extremely hard of hearing in the other. how you'd use sign language from now on, and that the class would learn some in support. they never did though, the conversation going ignored as soon as it was uttered.

you were pulled out of class often, the teacher having to tap you on the shoulder to get your attention. your eyes dejected and your presence small as the person who came to get you made gestures with their hands to you.

you'd been cruelly placed in matching classes 'til your last years of junior high. you'd stayed the same way for forever, it was like a weight placed over his chest.

yet he felt he deserved it. he knew he was messed up. he watched you, a lot. he saw you in the back corners, usually forgotten and ignored. when you were acknowledged you were mocked, people making random hand signs to make fun of the way he forced you to communicate, mocking your unconfident speech right after.

he saw the way you sunk into yourself afterwards, making his heart hurt as you grew impossibly smaller. your hands held your own as you prayed for it to be over.

everytime you'd catch him in the halls, you'd still freeze up. your breath shaky as you bowed and left quickly, making his friends laugh but make him queasy.

that interaction was witnessed by your teacher who, after a day of you not showing up, assigned him to give you your work for the day.

with sweaty palms and a racing heart, he dropped by your house. he knew where it was, of course he did, your mom and his were close industry friends even after the incident.

because you'd never told anyone about what he'd do to you.

he knocked on the door, attempting to seem nonchalant. when you answered though, he felt his heart lurch in his chest.

"[name], uh-- this is your work."

you didn't respond, you looked almost nauseous at the sight of him, it was deserved though.

he placed your work on the floor and walked off, that was the only time he'd spoken to you since the incident,

and he couldn't even apologize.

- - -

U-A wouldn't only be a dream for him, but a release for you both. was it selfish to want to run away from his problems? sure, but it'd help you too.

as everyone in the class exclaimed the names of the schools they picked, unsurprised at katsuki's choice, he pondered on where you'd go.

nobody asked you, so you didn't speak. staying quiet as you looked out the window.

katsuki got accepted into U-A easily, but he couldn't help but feel he lacked the main criteria. he'd hurt people poorly, and couldn't apologize because of his ego.

he felt sick to accept these accomplishments of his, knowing it'd be built up on the foundation of hurting you.

but he did anyway, selfishly. he kept up his harsh demeanor in U-A anyways, working hard and scoring high. he graduated top of his class, job offers to agencies left and right.

he accepted one, working for his old internship officially now. he climbed the ranks quickly, saving lives and catching the attention of the media.

a couple years later, he was a steady number five hero when he took a patrol route over for deku. as he strolled through the city, stores littering the buildings, he saw someone he never thought he'd see again.

you, only now working for your mothers seamstress company. you were embroidering something on the station, hands precise and focused, not noticing him.

he had to keep moving, but.. he made a mental note to come back later.

he finished his patrol anxious, he went to sleep thinking of what he'd even say to you. 'hey sorry for ruining your life, can you forgive me?' he slapped his forehead in frustration.

he searched up basic sign language for beginners, learning a bit. he laughed at the stupid thoughts of your forgiveness that he dreamt of.

"as if i deserve it." he muttered, looking deeply at the ceiling of his room before falling asleep.

as soon as he awoke, he got dressed and prepared. he tried to look causal, as if he wasn't planning this.

he walked in, immediately greeted by your mother who congratulated him on his heroics. "well isn't that dynamite? saving the world i see."

he laughed politely. "i'll be number one soon enough."

"of course! well, what're you looking for? i'll give you a family discount, you grew up so close to [name] didn't you?"

his heart jumped into his throat.

"uh.. we did."

"you two were so adorable! she was so nervous around you, she must've had a crush on you or something!"

"i definitely don't think so."

"oh, you're just being modest." she said, hitting his arm lightly. "there she is now, go and speak to her."

"uh-- i--"

"go!" she shoved him in your direction, making you look up to see him. your lips parted in an unrecognizable expression as you saw him, the line you were working on now crooked as you were left alone together.

it's been about ten years hadn't it? ten years since he last saw you, but a lifetime he needed to apologize for.

he'd learned so much in U-A, outwardly changing his demeanor to what he always aspired to be. but all that meant nothing to you, who only experienced him at his worst.

he awkwardly raised his hand up to you, he did his best to sign while speaking, his hands shaky and unconfident. "hi [name], i'm really sorry about what happened back then."

your eyes followed the movements, your hands absentmindedly wrapping around yourself loosely, defensively.

"i know this is a lot but,

can we be friends?"

he waited anxiously for you to answer, you looking as if you were processing it.

in a grown up, yet timid voice, one that he hadn't heard since you were young, you almost whispered, signing as you did so out of reflex. "thank you, bakugo." your eyes grew watery. great, he just couldn't seem to stop making you cry.

he sat near you after getting wordless permission to, hanging onto every word you spoke, and being mindful to speak in a calm tone himself.

"i.. i'd like a friend, honestly. a new one anyways."

he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding when you said that, but still, it wasn't enough.

he wanted to, no needed to make you happy. the years of torment he subjected you to couldn't be made up by anything less than years of happiness.

after a bit of small talk, him asking you questions about what you'd been up to, how your life was treating you. he zoned out a couple times, thinking of how beautiful you've become.

"what would make you happy, [name]?" he finally said, his head supported on his hand as he gazed at you, making sure to enunciate his words so you could read his lips.

"what makes you ask?"

"i-- i want to make you happy. no matter the cost, it's what you deserve."

she laughed softly at that, her eyes flickering with an indistinguishable expression. "...i always wanted to travel. around the world, to see mountains and landscapes."

"then i'll take you."

"you don't have t--"

"i do. and ill do more [name], what i did to you was-- is horrible. you know that."

"i..

okay, okay bakugo."

"katsuki."

you smiled, "katsuki."

going from having very limited contact with your only friend from high school, to having a prohero come to your shop everyday was jarring. but not unwelcomed.

he brought gifts with him everytime, learning what you'd like and not. it ranged from food to stuffed animals, flowers to accessories, all of which you really appreciated.

you grew closer, eventually starting to meet outside of your mother's shop. at the park or walking around the mall, he'd take you anywhere you wanted to go. he'd pay for everything too, despite your reluctance.

he kept his word to you, and at the end of the month he asked you to come up to his apartment.

a penthouse.

as you walked in, greeted by the shimmering atmosphere of the expensive furniture and decor all around, abstract paintings and trophies littering shelves on the walls.

you stood by the front entrance, taking off your shoes as you walked in. "katsuki?" you asked, looking around.

he came out, a tiny smile on his face. "ya made it." he had something behind his back, "come in [name]."

the apartment was huge to say the least, it becoming even bigger than it looked from the entrance. he guided you to his plush couch, sitting next to you.

"so, i know you said you dreamt of traveling, right?"

at your nod, he pulled out the tickets from behind his back. "i.. got this tickets for you. i didn't want to push it in case you didn't want me to go with you but--"

you cut him off with a hug, tackling him into the couch.

"of course i want you to come,

katsuki."

you signed his name differently than other times,

you'd finally made a name for him.

he hugged back mindfully, so excited to finally have a huge first step in the right direction.

but he still needed to make you happy. "we'll leave in two days if that's okay, i just wanted to give you time to pack."

"okay, that's good."

"do you.. want to stay?" he asked nervously, the thought had popped into his mind and out his mouth in a millisecond.

you blinked, sitting up on his legs, pondering it over.

"sure, okay."

he put on some movies for the two of you, his heart was racing at the proximity of your body to his.

the night ended with you laid on top of him, fast asleep as he was comforted by the beating of your heart against his. your chest against his, his hand in your hair as your head laid in his neck.

he woke up first, to the sight of the gold light making you look heavenly, your hair messy from how he was playing with it throughout the night. your face was almost against his, he could kiss you right now.

but he shouldn't. he would move but he didn't want to couldn't, so he looked you over. you woke up to the feeling of his fingers caressing your face, your eyes half lidded from sleep.

"'suki. g'morning."

his heart was getting used to irregularly pounding around you at this point. "[name], uh-- hi."

after a couple moments, you got off of him, much to his discontent. his hands sliding down your legs as you got up.

"i'll be going now, i gotta pack and stuff." you said, looking in one of the many mirrors scattered around as you fixed your appearance as much as you could.

he nodded. "let me walk you home at least."

and he did walk you home, hand in hand.

those two nights he spent pondering over you. he didn't know why, but hero work felt much lighter after talking it out with you. becoming your friend was one of the best things he'd achieved in years, and that was including his recent rankings.

he thought back to how he treated you as a kid, had he really just been searching for your validation all along?

is that why it hurt when you told him he'd never amount to his dreams, because he only valued your opinion?

he let himself sleep, he'd see you tomorrow. and he'd make it all right.

he woke up and picked you up at your place, his expensive sports car standing out against the comfort of the neighborhood. you walked out, dressed simply but cute, a bag of your own in hand.

he grabbed it from you and placed it in the back, opening the passenger door for you as he drove to the airport. his hand on your thigh as he did so, letting you play the music you'd like with loud bass.

it was a half hour ride in comfortable silence, he gazed at you occasionally, a thoughtful expression on your face.

on the plane, you sat by the window. it was first class so you'd get to sleep in a physical bed, in a closed room. you were treated to whatever food and drinks you wanted, hugging katsuki when you found out you where you were heading.

the flight was a long eighteen hours, but it was spent hanging out with katsuki. on his lap asking him questions about the shows you two had watched, power scaling arguments about past heroes, fights he'd recently been in.

also what you two planned to do as you were there, you wanted to go to the beaches and mountains, he just wanted to follow you.

you fell asleep together again, your face laid directly in his chest as he held you.

you woke up to katsuki tapping you on the shoulder. as you raised the volume on your aids, you heard the beeping on the intercoms that meant you'd have to go back to your seats for the landing, groggily being helped up by katsuki as he moved you to to your seats.

you sat by the windows, looking at the tropical region as you two landed, your hand still in his. the moments after we're a blur, before you knew it you were in a car being buckled up by katsuki as you were being driven to your hotel.

what you didn't know was that it was a villa, built on top of the waters of the ocean, your very own private beach right outside your doors with the mountains you'd dreamt of treking right behind you.

you'd never been so happy.

the days you'd spent started and ended all the same, you waking up and going to sleep in katsuki's arms. pretending like you didn't notice how your bed hair got worsened after he played with it all night.

the first days you'd spent at the beach, attempting and failing at surfing. your jet lag was killed off by your utter excitement.

you being thankful your aids were water resistant because of how much you loved the waters of the river and the seas.

you'd had a sandcastle competition, sunbathed, and soaked off in the hot tub of your villa together.

the trek's were fun too, katsuki was annoyingly good at everything so you'd have to fight to keep up.

your polaroid in hand as you snapped candid shots of him, turning it to yourself as you got a selfie of you two with the gorgeous rivers as background.

you jumped into those too, making katsuki freak out as you dived in to the deep waters.

you even got to the top one day, jokingly saying that you should've brought a flag to the top to celebrate. the golden hours of the sunset making you glimmer.

a moment of silence passed over you as he slowly approached you, wordlessly asking for permission as you once again put your hands in his.

you leaned in first, kissing him with the sun as witness.

"i really like you [name]." he sighed and spoke after you pulled away.

"i like you too." you replied, hugging him tightly.

the rest of your trip was filled with your firsts with katsuki.

your first official date was in the burrows of the forest, a picnic where you two painted portraits of eachother. albeit, unique portraits... but painting nonetheless.

your first moment truly loving someone, the feeling you recognized as you laid him in your lap for the first time.

your first talk about what happened all those years ago. a deep one.

"[name], before we become something um.. official. we need to talk about how i hurt you." katsuki said one day, laying faced to you but taking your hands into his.

"kats--"

"let me speak. please." after you nodded, he took a breath and began.

"i was egotistical and really insecure all those years. you were the only one who really read me, that's why i think i got so upset.

i didn't mean to hurt you, i never wanted to hurt anyone i swear-- i just hated that you were right.

that weighed over me all these years, the fact that my hero work meant nothing if i was doing it while acting so.. unheroic.

i never fully felt like a hero, not until i met you again.

not until you graced me with your friendship, your undeserved affection towards me. i just-- i really care about you. and im really sorry, ill spend the rest of my life apologizing to you, and you don't have to accept it because i don't deserve it.

i guess what i'm trying to say is..

sorry, and.. i love you [name].

you don't have to--"

he was cut off by a kiss on his lips.

it felt different somehow, he couldn't place it. almost sad in a way as you pulled back.

"i don't think you were trying to hurt me. but, you did.

and you're working to change it, i appreciate that.

i really care for you too katsuki."

the rest of your trip was comfortingly domestic, learning things about each other you'd never know.

your last week was bittersweet, having to leave your jointed paradise was a reality that saddened the both of you. but your dream was fulfilled, and so was his.

seeing that he was the cause of your smiles and not your horror, making you happy was the light of his day. no, his life.

he thinks he was born to make you happy.

the flight back was a blur, you spent it clinging to him. you started to gift him your own things over the hours, a scrunchie of yours, a bracelet for him to keep.

a locket with a photo of you two, and the polaroid you'd taken on the mountains.

"why are you giving this all to me? not that i'm complaining."

"well, you'll get more use out of it. that's all."

he scrunched his face up in confusion, but with a smile you waved off his concerns.

he wished he pushed you more.

he wished that you'd forgive him for failing you once again, as he fought to take the razor blade out of your grip, slicing your hand in the process.

you were in your bathtub, surrounded by water yet fully clothed, tears and wails wracking your body as you just wanted it to be over.

you finally relented, your blood staining his clothes and the water as he picked you up. you couldn't hear him, you'd taken out your aid.

but you could feel his sobs, his tears hitting you as you shut your eyes, embarrassed of what you'd just done.

you were rushed to the hospital and given stitches, you were to be closely watched from your mom now on, you were told by an interpreter.

katsuki's eyes were red, matching his pupils as he looked at you.

he was frustrated, you could see it in the trembling of his fists and the scowl in his mouth. if he hadn't been there.. you would be dead.

why, he asked you. and to be honest, you really couldn't explain it yourself.

when you got home to your apartment, empty and reminding of your reality away from katsuki, you just felt so..

scared. what would happen when he finally got the validation he needed and left you? your whole life was quiet and tranquil, you'd gotten used to it. but he flipped it upside down again, showed you what your life really could be.

it was too much for you. you had to escape, so after sitting on it, tapping your leg anxiously as you pondered your decision, you went on your phone.

you went online and saw his life outside of you, how he had everything going for him yet what did you really have? a mom and a job at her company?

you grew impulsive, grabbing it absentmindedly and filling up the tub with the water you grown to love over the past month.

after you started bleeding, you panicked. what had you just done? but it was too late..

until he saved you from yourself.

you were zoning out. when you didn't answer him, he repeated himself, grabbing the interpreter so you could sign.

but still you said nothing, except a small sorry.

he left afterwards, leaving you alone in the bed to think.

you were back in your childhood room now, your mom having sobbed as she looked over your hands, as she asked you, "what the hell were you thinking?"

you looked at those glow in the dark stars and tried to find an answer, but there was none.

you held yourself to sleep for the first time in months, already missing him deeply.

little did you know, he was thinking about you too.

the next morning you awoke to a knock on your bedroom door. assuming it was your mom, you got up and opened it.

it was katsuki instead, holding a bouquet of flowers and the locket you'd given him.

"can i come in?"

you opened the door wider, leading him to sit on your bed.

"katsuki i--"

"[name]. i don't know why you did what you did.. but i know it probably has something to do with me. so what did i do wrong?" he looked defeated, as if he thought it was his fault you tried to end your life.

"no! no that wasn't it at all. well, it was about you but not like that.

it's just.. i've been alone. for so long? having you around felt.. too good to be true. i didn't want to go back to how i was before. in a way, you were too good for me."

"you're.. an idiot. but i guess i understand."

"i just.. i really love how you treat me. i didn't want it to go away."

a moment of silence passes, a small anxious laugh leaving katsuki's lips.

"fuck, i thought you hated me. could barely sleep without you."

he pulled you into him, staring deeply into your eyes as he pulled you impossibly closer. he kissed you deeply. his worries, passions, and frustrations all poured out into it.

he pulled away, eyes half lidded as he asked gruffly.

"wanna take this back to my place?"

he took your last first away, gentle and loving as he guided you through it. reassuring you that he'd never leave you.

you moved in with him soon after, finding it hard to sleep without eachother, no matter how late he got back to your shared home.

he'd be welcomed back by the sight of you, who always tried and failed to stay up waiting for him. he'd pick you up, like always, and hug you to sleep.

he'd know he woke you up by the feeling of your smile in his chest, the way you tightened you arms around him.

he loved spending every waking moment he could with you. you were right though, he did break up with you after he got your validation.

...

but that's just an odd way to say he proposed to you, vowing to spend the rest of his life making you happy and fufiling your wishes one by one.

he changed not only himself, but the way you see yourself. he changed your relationships with yourselves and eachother for the better,

and as you walked down the aisle, your wedding planned by your two designer parents, being lavish and gorgeous. the silk on the floor being runway to your expensive shoes specially designed for you, the guests in awe of how gorgeous you are.

you both knew, you'd better eachother for better or for worse, for as long as you'd be together.

he signed 'i do', sealing the rest of your lives together,

with a kiss.

#watched this the other day and cried again #lilac speaks꧂#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo #bakugo x y/n #bakugo katuski #bakugo x you #bakugo fluff #katsuki x you #bakugo drabble #mha x you #bakugo oneshot #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki

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anzulvr · 7 months ago

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Thank you for follow back! >.> meant a lot to me. Is it okay if I request a Karma x reader where the reader is very sweet & affectionate towards Karma & it makes him shy. No pressure. Just wanted to say hi & thank you! ^_^

♡ ୨୧ Karma with affectionate Reader ୨୧ ♡

ʚɞ fluff; no warnings || Karma Akabane ♥︎ note : HIII HII SORRY THIS IS LIKE CENTURIES LATE SHEA… guys pls tell me if you see typos I checked but I get sick of reading my own things again and again… 😭|| ʚɞ

— Karma is inexperienced when it comes to relationships therefore when you’re affectionate and sweet to him he doesn’t know how to act!!

His face canonically gets super red when he’s embarrassed though it’s not an often thing because he can usually shake things off with a joke! When it does happen it’s finally your chance to get back at him for all the times he’s purposely taken weird photos of you.

He’d be shy with PDA (when he’s not trying to embarrass you, since he’s also the type to mortify you by calling you the stupidest pet names in front of your friends and family.)

If you react strongly it's worse because he loves getting you mad and rilled up it's like his love language. Some people like giving gifts or giving words of affirmation to their s/o while he likes pissing you off.

If you randomly hold his hand or rest your hand on his shoulder he won’t know what to do. He plays with your hand instead of staying still as a way to distract himself from how giddy he’s feeling.

Half the time “playing with your hand” means him trying to jokingly get you to slap your own face with your hand, the other half of the time when he feels like being nice and cute he’s just lightly squeezing it.

Very “opposites attract” troupe.

Even when you were just friends you were very attentive which isn’t something he’s familiar with. For the first time ever there’s someone taking care of him? Asking about his day and doing anything to make him feel better when it’s a bad one? He’d find it hard to believe you’re doing so much for him without wanting anything in return.

When he starts getting more comfortable in the relationship he inches towards being sweeter and more open with you.

E-class finds it hard to believe when they first see it, cause it’s Karma out of all people?? Karma being affectionate??

Don’t get me started on Asano’s reaction to this, he from the bottom of his heart, thinks you’re being held hostage.

Most of Karmas “affection” is just making fun of people so when they see him being weirdly nice to you it’s creepy to them. Constant compliments and praise coming out of his mouth is something they didn’t think they’d live to see.

He can’t be serious for long periods of time and always finds a way to “ruin the moment”. For example you’ll hug him and Karma will hug back… for three seconds before he lifts you off the ground and spins you till too dizzy to walk. (He finds it funny to see you struggling.)

Ms.Vitch is tired of you both because you refuse to work with anyone else she sets you up with (since her class centers around assassination with seduction). Sure, the phrases she makes you all say are awkward no matter who you’re saying it to but you can’t bring yourself to work with your other classmates for that class! If you do work with someone else he’s so shady about it afterwards.

“Karma do you mind getting my bag for me?"

“Maybe ask Maehara since he’s so strong.”

“You know I only said that for the class!!"

Karasuma is also sick of you two getting side tracked, instead of sparring you two sword fight, instead of running a mile you somehow convince Karma to carry you on his back while he does all the running?! (he’s a show off.) Instead of doing pushups you sit on Karmas back as he does them. It gets to the point he makes you work on opposite sides of the field but you somehow end up getting together anyway within minutes. He’s starting to give up.

On the brighter side you’re together in all of Korosensei’s classes because he can’t bring himself to separate you two! He did once and you were so miserable he gave in. Even if Karma does give you the answers in exchange for a kiss (it’s really that easy.) Korosensei thought you might’ve died from heartbreak if he kept you apart longer.

It’s pretty hard to make him shy since he’s constantly being praised to the point his ego is up there. It happens in more quiet, private moments. Like if you’re at his house watching a movie and you’re moving closer together all of a sudden he’s looking at the roof and not the screen. He can’t let you see his face is beet red.

Another example is him seeing you in a pretty outfit and not being able to act right cause he’s flustered.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“No, you’re just, you’re- you you’re I like.”

“Come again?”

#ansatsu kyoushitsu #karma akabane #assassination classroom #karma x reader #assassination classroom x reader #karma akabane x reader #akabane karma x reader #karma akabane headcannons #assclass #akabane x reader #karma akabane x you #karma x you #anzulvr #reader x karma #korosensei #tadaomi karasuma #irina jelavic #akabane karma #akabane

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solbaby7 · 7 months ago

Text

Stuck Like Glue

rhysand x clingy!reader

warnings: light bullying, maybe some swearing

summary: You’re a little clingy and your High Lord never seems to mind but—maybe his friends do

clearing out my drafts, so don’t judge if it’s a lil short

—

It seemed harmless enough, hanging off of Rhysand’s shoulder or scuffling your way into his lap when the festivities had gotten entirely too much for you to endure on your own. His hand curls easily around your waist, fingers tapping at your thighs when you start pressing kisses down his neck in the middle of a conversation with one of the other High Lords.

Boredom quickly grew, excusing yourself with a kiss on Rhysand’s chest to go grab a drink. There’s more options to choose from than you can comprehend, drinks filled with hand tied tea bags or fresh fruit. You settle on something gentle, like tea with honey and you have full intentions to rush back to your High Lord, a smile in place and a few pastries in tow but the group he was speaking to before has huddled in closer, voices more hushed. “—just saying, Rhys. I don’t have a clue how you deal with her hanging off of you all the time.”

That was Cassian—cadence unmistakable even with all the overlapping voices in the crowd. Your smile falters, steps slowing as more of them pitch in, clapping sympathetic hands to Rhys’ shoulder and mumbling out different variations of how bad they felt for him. You say nothing, lemon tart shaking in your grasp and tears swell in your waterline as you wait for Rhysand to speak up—to tell them at they were stupid and wrong and had not the slightest fucking clue they were talking about.

But that never happens.

“She’s just a little attached—it’s cute.”

Attached.

You swallow the lump in your throat and enter again, a faux smile plastered in when you make a point to sit on the couch and not Rhysand’s lap. You refrain from reaching out to play with his fingers or trace the inky lines of his tattoos. There’s no spare kisses, no sweet words whispered for just the High Lord to hear, no fingers sneaking up to play in his hair or manicured nails scratching gentle patterns at the nape of his neck.

Just your hands in your lap, clutching that now half-cold cup of tea from before. “Baby, come sit over here.” Rhysand softly whispers, a hand already wrapping around your back to help move you but you stop him, head shaking in defiance as you slide just a little further away from him.

“That’s okay, there’s people around.”

“When has that ever stopped you before?”

He says it playfully but the smile you give back doesn’t reach your eyes. “I’m okay, Rhys. Thank you.”

His brows furrow, confusion evident but he doesn’t fight you on it.

He does, however, notice the way you pull your hand away whenever he reached for yours and halfway through a conversation with some male Rhysand had apparently known since he was younger; he tries to kiss you. Just a quick peck but you only offer your cheek instead. His frown deepens, eyes barely tearing away from you to finish what they were talking about because your distance is unmistakable.

There’s no fingers toying with the crisp lines of his dress pants. No hair tickling at the side of his neck or legs wrapped around his waist and the absence makes his jaw clench.

Rhysand’s friends leave for only a second, making promises to return with more drinks and that they hoped the Lord of Darkness could still keep up and he chuckles back some half-assed comment before fully turning to face you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m having a great time.”

“You haven’t kissed me in hours.” It comes out like that’s the only fact he needed to make his point.

And to appease him now that no one was around, you lean forward and press a kiss to his mouth. “I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to be too much with your friends around.”

His brows raise again; that’s the second time now you’d said something along those lines. “Don’t worry about them—they’re just jealous anyway.”

You scoff like it’s an insult, quick to set the teacup down before you did something stupid like throw it. “Yeah, whatever.”

Rhysand forced you to meet his eye, a finger curled under your chin and you could feel the caress of his talons prodding at your mental barriers. “Show me what’s wrong.”

Your mouth opens to confess but out the corner of your eye you can see the guys returning, each holding their own bottle of whatever expensive liquor was left on display by the refreshment stands and your mouth shuts just as quickly. “There’s nothing wrong."

He doesn’t accept it, politely pulling you away from prying eyes. “Tell me, right now.”

A huffy sigh emits, shoulders slumping and tears well in your eyes. “I just want to have a good night without anyone thinking I’m too attached to you.”

His shoulders square out at the venom laced in the word and the previous conversation had between friends seemed to backfire. “Oh,” Guilty fingers trace warm cheeks, grazing over a wobbly chin and Rhys is crooning out apologies; promises that it wasn’t true—that he’d said whatever to get them off his back. “I didn’t mean it. I love when you’re all over me,” The truth in the words is undeniable and while you’d like to be mad, you really had missed the feel of him; his warmth and the grabby hands that always pulled you in closer.

“But, Cass said—“

“Cass is drunk and not getting any.” Rhys pulls you in closer, fingers raking through your hair while the other hand grips your hips just enough to push them flush with his own. The music thuds loudly, vibrating the floors and rattling the very blood in your body but everyone else seems to be having so much fun—laughing loudly and leaning into the other without the worry of being too much, too overbearing, too clingy or needy.

“But—“

“Don’t listen to him.” Pure affection sweetens his tone, love twinkling into amethyst irises when taking in every dip and curve of your features. “You’re perfect, just as you are.”

#rhys x reader #rhysand angst #rhysand x reader #rhysand fluff #rhys x reader smut #acotar fics #rhys acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acotar x you #high lord rhysand #rhysand acotar #pro rhysand #rhysand #rhys fluff

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reiden · 8 months ago

Text

we bring our fantasy to life | s.hinata

Hinata has a habit of spoiling you, not only when it comes to material possessions, but with anything you wish for. And you should really thank him for it. It's only right, you think.

cw: 18+, f!reader, oral (male receiving)

— ✦

The wind chime that hangs out on your balcony twinkles in a sweet tune, the sound drifting into your apartment along with the rays of the early morning sun. Hinata brought it back for you from Brazil; it's made of bells hidden inside of seashells, carved pieces of glass, and twine. It's charming in its own right, but it means more because he bought it for you. (It was the first thing he got with his first ever paycheck as a delivery boy, and he had messaged you about it too.)

You think he's always been too willing with you. Hinata always indulges you, perhaps more than he should. You try to gently chide him into not spoiling you so much, try telling him that he doesn't need to get you a gift whenever the urge strikes him; Hinata never really listens, just takes your lighthearted scolding with red ears and a sheepish smile.

You can't really complain anyway — you quite like knowing he's thinking of you.

As you lay beneath your comforter, head sinking into your pillows, you reach out a hand and trace a line down Hinata's bicep, following the curve of his muscle. The years he spent in Brazil turned him into someone new; he had come back to you stronger, bigger. He had come back with his instincts sharper and his smile wider, and his love for you nearly tripled, it seems. Something squeezes and shudders in your chest as you watch the subtle ways his face shifts in his sleep. His lashes brush the apples of his cheeks and his lips are parted slightly, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. He's every bit as endearing asleep as he is awake — and you can hardly believe he's yours.

It's a strange position to be in: to date someone with so much fame. The world is watching his every move and, by extension, they are watching yours too. Hinata never shies away from speaking about you; he posts you on social media, takes you out on dates. And people talk — of course they do. Everyone has opinions on everything and your relationship with Hinata is no exception to that. Some of them think you're too plain for a pro-athlete, especially one as prolific as Hinata Shouyou. Sometimes, you start to believe them.

Hinata is every bit willing to give you the world, should you ask for it. And while you're willing to do the same for him, he would be able and you could only ever make a good-faith attempt. You can tell him time and time again how enamoured you are by him, how grateful you are to have him; Shouyou, thank you. Shouyou, what would I do without you? Shouyou, I love you.

It doesn't really measure up — not in your eyes, anyway. (Hinata insists otherwise but you're allowed to disagree with him sometimes.)

Shouyou," you whisper, shuffling closer. He's so warm — you can feel the steady thrum of his heart beating as you slot your head in the crook of his neck. "Are you awake?"

And then: "I love you."

You bring your arm up and curl it under your head, the other skims up his shoulder and curves over his neck. You can feel his body moving with each cyclical breath; you wait for him to wake up. Some part of you wants to shake him awake, but you imagine he has several good things to dream about, and you'd hate to interrupt.

The longer you stare, the harder it becomes for you to be patient.

Hinata had returned a little over a month ago. You'd been expecting him for the whole week before he came back home, cleaning and reorganising your apartment, repeatedly checking your reflection in every mirror you pass by. You suspect that he'd wanted to surprise you, but — as with most things concerning you and him — he'd agreed to your whims and filled you in on all the details. You had waited for him at the airport when he'd arrived, and you had cried in his arms (which, you had immediately noted, had gotten much bigger in the time you'd spent apart) while he tried to soothe the ache of a wound that could finally begin to heal.

He'd called you every single night and yet, when he had you in his arms once more, Hinata had so much more to say. And you'd listened — hanging off of every word like missing even a second of him would break you.

You remember how he was bouncing his leg in the taxi back to your place; you had assumed it was just his excitement to be back home. That could have only been half of it — he'd been more excited to get his hands on you.

And as soon as the both of you stumbled past the front door, as soon as you had turned to welcome him home with a coy smile, Hinata was kissing you. He spent the next few hours simply learning your body once more: he'd mapped his love onto your skin long ago and now, he was retracing his steps, finding all the ways to make you squirm, whine, plead and beg. Embarrassingly, you were nothing more than a dazed mess at the end of it.

"You're always so sensitive, baby."

The memory of him rasping those words into the shell of your ear has you growing even more impatient. Involuntarily, your thighs press together; the ghost of his touch along your skin is fleeting — if you close your eyes, you can still feel it.

He must feel your insistent stare. Hinata stirs awake slowly, stretching his arms out first before his eyes even peel open. You watch with your smile hidden behind your hand as he fights sleep, finally meeting your softened gaze.

"Good morning," you say first, lovelorn as you watch him smile.

Hinata typically wakes up earlier than you. His schedule is a lot stricter than yours, and his discipline is stronger than yours as well. His body is used to waking up in tandem with the sunrise — you prefer to wait until the rays of sun greet you. But he's been given some time off, a short break to recuperate, and for once, Hinata had slept in with you. "Morning," he says, quietly though not cheerfully. His voice is gritty from the hours of sleep and the sound only lights a flame in your stomach.

You make your move then, not wanting to delay it any longer. Hinata's watching you curiously as you shift over him, and make room for yourself between his legs. The soft wrinkle between his brows, the way he's watching you so intently, only makes that flame grow as it begins to burn brighter.

He doesn't seem to put two-and-two together until your hands are sliding down his stomach, feeling the ridges of his well-trained muscles.

"Hey..." he laughs, the sound coming out breathy and soft, touched with a kind of disbelief he shouldn't still have. It's almost as if Hinata can't believe he has you in the same way you can't believe you have him. "You don't have to—"

"I want to," you reply, fingers curling into the waistband of his shorts. You tug at it, lowering it down his hips and his thighs. The way Hinata hisses at the cool air has a shiver rushing down the length of your spine. "I didn't think you'd be hard already," you accompany your words with a soft snicker.

Hinata whines in response, his hips chasing your fingers as they withdraw from him. "How could I not be? You're so hot—" his voice catches in his throat when you press your hand down on his thigh, thumb tracing his tan line. "Baby, please." You can imagine him now, standing on the sandy beaches of Rio De Janeiro, each grain easily felt beneath his bare feet. He must have been a sight to behold: sun-kissed skin, sweat perspiring on his forehead and over his back, mouth stretched into a self-assured grin.

You’re jealous, really — you should’ve been there too. It’s easy to picture him there, basking in the sunlight; the fact that others had gotten to see him like that stoked the fire burning in the cavity of your stomach.

“Can’t believe you woke me up just to tease,” Hinata pouts, sleep lacing his voice and making it sound almost stuck in his throat. He shifts his weight around, squirming as you skim your nails up his thighs.

You don't dignify him with a response. Hinata sucks in a sharp breath, "Where'd this come from anyway, huh?"

"Just felt like it," you hum, kneeling between his thighs. You place your hands on his hips, squeeze once, and then smooth your palms up his sides.

Hinata's skin is hot under your wandering touch. He's been good and kept his hands at his sides — an accomplishment for him considering how much he enjoys taking any and every opportunity to touch you. He stares down at you with a darkened gaze, his need for you written clearly in the deep brown of his irises. It's a look you've seen before, and one you will never tire of; it tugs at something deep inside of you, in the same way a puppeteer manipulates and pulls at the strings of his creations. You fall right in and you always give in.

Your hand curls around the base of his shaft — finally, finally — and Hinata hisses once more. He's jumpy already, hips bucking into your hand as you massage the skin. The sound of your name falling from his lips only encourages you to increase your pace; his legs jolt beneath your free hand.

Hinata's an eager lover. He's always yearning, hoping for more. When you're with him you truly feel desired, even at your worst of times. Your scent, your touch, your voice — this is all he knows. A low groan rumbles deep inside of his chest when you bend down, your soft lips wrapping around the head of his cock. You don't think he's really thinking when he jerks his hips up, forcing himself deeper into your mouth.

You're breathing through your nose, fighting the urge to gag when you feel him hit the back of your throat. And you keep him there, nose pressed flush against his pubic bone where you can smell his minty body wash.

"Move— please—" Hinata grunts. His fingers twist into the sheets at the same time you moan around his cock, and his hips lurch forward. "C'mon, baby." There's an edge to his voice, a warning simmering beneath the begging. Hinata knows how to hold himself back but his restraint is only so strong, and once the threads begin to fray, it's only a matter of seconds before he snaps.

But that isn't exactly an unfavourable outcome.

You hum around him once more. Hinata shivers. He mutters a curse under his breath, your nails dig into his thighs, and then his fingers are tangling themselves in your hair. His palm is insistent when it pushes down on the crown of your head, but he waits to move. Instead, he looks down at you with a silent question: Is this okay?

Your answer comes in the form of your tongue laving around him, running up and along the underside of his cock. It's all the answer he needs, really, and you go lax in his grip as he tugs you forward. Hinata pulls at your hair, manoeuvres you exactly where he wants you. His other hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking along your cheekbone, like he's apologising for pulling your hair and causing you pain.

(Not that he needs to — the feeling of hurt blooming under your scalp had sent heat searing down your body, and right between your legs. Hinata's looking down at you like he knows it; he's wearing a wicked grin.)

He guides you, bobbing your head up and down in tandem with each purposeful thrust of his hips. Your eyes flutter, going half-mast, and all you can really do is stare up at him through your lashes; your eyes glisten with tears that have yet to fall. Hinata's movements are stunned and he wrinkles the bedding beneath you both as he moves. You try your best to rub your tongue over him in a way he can appreciate, suck sloppily around the base of his shaft before he's pulling you off again. Every noise is lewd, obscene, and when he pushes in too deep, you're not able to stifle the way you gag and your throat tightens around him.

Hinata's quick to pull back, "Fuck, I'm sorry." But he doesn't sound quite as guilty as his big, brown eyes make him out to be — and the noise is not nearly as offending as it would have been in any other context.

You let him use you; it's the least you can do, you think, for the way he treats you like you are the moon and stars. And it's not all one-sided, if the way your arousal pools between your thighs says anything. He's trembling and your heart is racing. "Shit— I'm gonna come," Hinata pants quietly.

You want him to, you really, really do. So you hollow out your cheeks and you suck harder, the tip of your tongue tracing a vein that circles around his cock. You can feel him pulsing in your mouth, tongue catching along the dip of his tip. Hinata lets out a shuddering breath that wanes into a weak moan, his cheeks flushed. You swallow around him and plant your hands firmly on his thighs.

He comes with a strangled whine, bending his neck back and into the pillows. The taste of him floods your senses but you ignore the twang as you swallow, like it's second-nature. Hinata's hand falls from your hair, and he's looking down at you with a lovesick smile; you don't let up — not yet.

At least, you had planned not to but the hand cupping your cheek moves down to your jaw, gripping it tightly as he pulls you off of him. His cock is shiny with your spit, a thin strand of saliva following your mouth as you break away from him.

"You're perfect, you know that?" he asks, grabbing you and pulling you into his lap with ease. "So pretty — my pretty girl." Hinata pulls you into a searing kiss, lips meshing with yours as he licks into your mouth. You moan softly, anticipation filling your chest; it feels electric as it sparks down your arms and down your legs, static in your fingertips.

Hinata runs a hand down the curve of your spine, trailing his finger along the hem of your panties. He's not taking them off like you want him to, and you can't pull away to tell him to either. He keeps you in place with his free hand around your nape.

You weren't supposed to get this far. The morning was meant to start and end with Hinata — it was about your appreciation for him. And yet, he's indulging you once again as you squirrel around in his lap. His laugh warms in your chest and your heart swells. You feel Hinata hook his fingers into your underwear, pulling them clean off in a matter of a few seconds.

He throws you around with ease. Your back hits the mattress, your head sinking into the pillows he had been laying on moments ago. Hinata hovers over you, his eyes glancing all over your body and your face, as if he's seeing you for the first time. His gaze is sinister and the way his mouth twitches into a smirk has goosebumps erupting all over your skin.

"I think I need to return the favour," he sighs, trailing fervent kisses down your neck just to get to the sensitive spot below your ear. You can feel Hinata smile against your skin when you mewl in response to his gentle bite.

Your hands meet his bare chest, as though you're about to push him away. Maybe you should, he's giving in to you like he always does. But you don't and instead, you loop your arms around his neck, letting them slide off of him as your hands dig into his hair. Hinata moves down your body. "Shouyou — I was trying to thank you," you whisper, watching him press a kiss to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You shudder, much to Hinata's visible delight.

"You can thank me like this too," he simply replies, teeth sinking into the fat of your thigh. You suck in a sharp breath, thoughts scattering quick like skittish animals.

You hadn't thought about it until now — staring down at Hinata as his breath ghosts over your cunt. There's a faraway look in his eyes, his nails dig into your thighs, and you don't think you've ever seen him look so content.

Maybe, when he indulges you, he's indulging himself too.

#no one look at me...#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #hinata x reader #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata smut #wr.iting

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jjkamochoso · 7 months ago

Text

Quit Bugging Me

Fluff

Sanemi Shinazugawa x gn!reader

You find Sanemi taking care of his Japanese rhinoceros beetles!

Warnings: descriptions of bugs, bugs crawling on characters’ bodies, light cussing and talk of violence

Part 2 can be found here!

You walked along yet another stone path at your fellow Hashira’s house, intently listening for any sign that he was currently residing there. You would say you and Sanemi were friends (though he wouldn’t). Over the years you’d known each other, you became one of the only people he didn’t find incredibly annoying and that was a good enough relationship for you, though you wouldn’t be opposed to growing closer to him. It seemed like he now felt that way about you as well, surprisingly, since he periodically sent his crow to check on you and make sure you were doing alright. You never mentioned that gesture to his face, something Sanemi was extremely grateful for, because there was no way he’d be able to explain his reasoning behind it without his head literally exploding from embarrassment.

It was oddly quiet at his house with none of the screaming or fighting happening that you were used to hearing from the Wind Hashira.

“That’s strange,” you muttered to yourself, “he’s usually training in his time off. Where is he?”

Your crow had never led you astray with wrong information, but it seemed like this time she was mistaken—Sanemi wasn’t home. You turned another corner and decided to try one more path before leaving. This one was unmarked by stones but showed signs of frequent usage due to the way the plants had given up growing there, tired of being trod on. After many twists and turns, it eventually led you down into a clearing surrounded by large oak trees and a wide pond. You finally spotted Sanemi’s spiky white hair and you made your way toward him. He appeared to be kneeling on the ground, his attention solely focused on the task in front of him.

“Sanemi,” you called out, “it’s y/n. May I approach?”

You were trying your best to be as respectful as possible so you didn’t immediately enrage him. Sanemi raised his head at breakneck speed, his purple eyes almost bulging out of his head in surprise.

“Y/n?! What the hell are you doing here? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

You took a step forward, leaves crunching underfoot. “I just came to check on you. I hadn’t heard from your crow in many moons and I wanted to make sure everything was fine with you both.”

“I’m gonna kill that idiot bird,” he said under his breath before acknowledging you in a louder tone. “I’m good. Why did you waste your time coming here? You should be training.”

“Shouldn’t you be, too?” you asked, trying to hide your smirk at his now angry face. “Instead, I find you playing in the woods like a child. What are you doing anyway?”

So much for not riling him up; he was just too fun to mess with!

“Nothing! It’s none of your business. Get out of here.”

He turned his back to you once more but you both knew he couldn’t scare you off so easily. You kneeled next to him, his broad shoulders nearly brushing against your own. In front of him laid open containers, some empty while others held beetles of some sort.

“Japanese rhinoceros beetles,” he explained, shaking the container with the bugs ever so slightly to get them to move. “I raise them.”

He looked up and pointed to the left of you. “Which of those rocks is your favorite?”

“Huh? Um, I guess this one,” you said, indicating to a certain medium sized rock.

“Good choice. That’ll be the rock I use to bash your head in if you tell anybody I do this.”

“Don’t worry, I promise I won’t tell anyone you’re an interesting person,” you teased, earning an eye roll from Sanemi. You two sat in comfortable silence as he continued trying to get the beetles to leave the container and explore their new home outside, but they wouldn’t budge.

“They’re just as stubborn as you, I can see why you like them.”

“Shut up.”

Sanemi then reached his hand into the box and plucked one of the beetles out before gently placing it on a tree. You smiled, enjoying seeing this sensitive side of him come out.

“Do you raise them from birth?” you questioned, wanting to know all about the process. It was a very unique hobby to have and you craved to learn more details.

“Sometimes. I’ve had a few mate and then I’ll raise the larvae until they’re adults and then send them back into nature. Other times I find older ones that are hurt so I keep them until their strength returns and put them back here as well. But don’t go thinking I’m getting soft or somethin’. I just think they’re cool, that’s all.”

You could tell he was feeling bashful about his hobby and the dedication he showed to his little friends by the way he wouldn’t meet your gaze. You tried your best to help him relax and show you weren’t judging him.

“That’s actually really neat, Sanemi. I think it’s amazing that you have the knowledge to take care of them in every stage of their lives.”

He picked another beetle up, this time letting it crawl all over his hand. “They’re simple creatures, ones that are easy to understand. They fight and reproduce, that’s it. There’s no need for feelings or other stupid things like humans. Must be nice.”

You hummed in agreement. “That’s true, but I don’t mind the whole emotions thing we have to deal with. It’s what makes us humans unique.”

“It’s what makes us weak.”

You playfully raised your eyebrows. “Ah, so you do have emotions like the rest of us, then?”

“I do. Like right now, the emotion I’m feeling toward you is great annoyance.”

“And the emotion I feel towards you is satisfaction,” you laughed, leaving Sanemi shaking his head. The truth was, he was feeling an opposite emotion than annoyance or his trademark anger. He was feeling excitement and a little bit of fear.

He was feeling love.

“Would you like to hold one?” he inquired, looking at you with such a rare sincere, almost hopeful, expression there was no way you could turn him down.

“I would love to,” you responded, feeling the tickle of insect legs in your outstretched cupped palms. You were so enthralled in the beauty of the beetle that you didn’t notice the way Sanemi was looking at you. As much as he tried, his eyes couldn’t pull away from your figure. Your kind eyes, your big smile, your relaxed body language around him—it was all so foreign to the Wind Hashira and he found himself intoxicated with your presence. Seeing you, the person he found himself head over heels for, having such a good time indulging in one of his most precious hobbies was a luxury he never thought he could afford and yet it was happening in front of him and he could barely believe he was this lucky.

“Like I said earlier, you’re not so different from them. Hard exterior but soft on the inside.”

Sanemi was pulled from his daydreams by the sound of your voice.

“You’re so weird,” he sneered, but he couldn’t bring himself to add any malice behind the words. You let out another laugh, the joyous sound being enough to bring Sanemi to his knees if he weren’t already on the ground.

“Hey, uh, Sanemi, the beetle is crawling up my arm,” you said, nervousness apparent in your tone. You were fine with the bug in your hands, but anywhere further up was too much for you. This time it was his turn to laugh, his arms crossed in front of his toned chest.

“He won’t hurt you, you know.”

“I know,” you said, trying to get your urgency across as the beetle raced up your limb, “but I’m getting really freaked out right now and I would love if you took your friend off me.”

Normally Sanemi would relish in seeing others get squeamish and scared, but not you—never you.

“Just relax, I got you.”

He quickly leaned over, grabbing your upper arm to steady it as he caught the beetle in his other hand. At first your heart rate calmed when you felt his large hand come in contact with your arm because you knew he would come to your aid. Then, when it registered that Sanemi just touched you, you felt your breath hitch in your throat and your heart beat faster. When Sanemi walked over to place the beetle on another tree, you took the time to breathe in deeply, trusting the fresh air to calm you.

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well, Sanemi, so I think I’ll take my leave now as I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Thank you for having me and sharing your hobby with me, I can see why those creatures bring you happiness.”

You didn’t want to leave so soon, but you certainly didn’t want him to get sick of you so you began to retrace your steps from earlier on the winding path.

“I’ll walk you out. I don’t want you to get lost.”

The scarred slayer had taken up a spot next to you, matching your walking pace. You both knew that was a lie since it was a fairly straightforward trek to the front gate, but neither of you mentioned it, wanting to soak up as much time together as possible. You were in the midst of a conversation about different fighting styles when all of a sudden, your foot caught on a gnarled root sticking up from the ground. You were ready to fall face first when a strong grasp appeared on your waist.

“Tch. Watch where you’re going, idiot,” said Sanemi, his hands not moving from their resting place on your body. You two locked eyes for a long time, no one daring to break the intimate moment you were sharing.

“Found them! Found them! Found the Hashira you care about!” cried Sanemi’s crow from above you. You both pulled away from each other as fast as possible, not wanting to get caught in a compromising position by the loudmouth bird.

“You good for nothing bird!” shouted Sanemi, throwing pebbles in the general direction of the crow. It just cackled at him, completely unbothered before flying away. You finished your ascent up to his house, an awkward silence falling between you this time.

“So, I guess this is goodbye for now?” you questioned, nervously wringing your hands together in front of you.

“I guess.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll see you later.”

“Later.”

You waved one last time, small stones flicking behind you as your feet hauled yourself away from Sanemi. You were doing so great in your mission to get to know Sanemi better and felt like you made huge strides today, but you assumed that after that strange interaction at the end, he’d never want to see you again. You couldn’t wait to get somewhere he couldn’t see you so you could hang your head in shame at the fact you ruined your chance at potential love. You had just reached the gate when you heard a yell from behind you.

“Hey! Y/n! Wait!”

You were shocked to see Sanemi jogging to you.

“It’s hot out here today and I don’t want to be responsible for someone finding your dehydrated body on the road. Come inside for a drink.”

Before you could answer, he quickly continued. “Please. If you want. Or don’t, I don’t care.”

He looked away, his arms once again folded in front of his chiseled chest.

“That sounds wonderful,” you answered, excited to spend more time with him, “I would love to. Thank you.”

His attention was on you again, not expecting you to actually take him up on his offer.

“Oh, yeah, uh, don’t mention it,” he said, and you could’ve sworn you saw a blush show up on his cheeks. As he opened his house door for you, you knew this would be the start of something good.

PART TWO

#sanemi x reader #sanemi x you #sanemi shinazugawa #sanemi shinazugawa x reader #shinazugawa x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader

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rosiesmuts · 1 year ago

Text

The Temptations of Jennie Kim

BLACKPINK Jennie

Words: 4,000

A/N: Boo! 👻

Jennie Kim is a pure unadulterated bitch.

Obstacle one is making it past the bouncer; having your name on the guest list makes that an easy task. Obstacle two is the sea of people; a VIP wristband solves that little inconvenience. Your expected prize for completing these side quests is a night of dancing, ending with divulging in the salacious body of a world famous idol. The light at the end of the tunnel is anything but. Obstacle three is something you couldn't see coming. That world famous idol has already found her seat, only it's on the lap of another man.

Your mind goes a million miles a minute trying to figure out a plan:

1) 'I should go up and confront her.' No, causing a scene wouldn't be good for anyone.

2) 'Fuck this I should just go home.' No, I can't let her just win so easily.

3) 'Fuck it, I'm already here, might as well grab a drink.' I guess this is the winner.

Probably not the best plan, but the one you've chosen.

"Don't tell me you're obsessed over her too."

An unfamiliar voice. Your eyes follow the voice, finding yourself face to face with a beautiful woman. It shouldn't be a surprise, this club is crawling with them. Too busy wallowing in your pity to notice her join your table and too late now to do anything about it.

"Huh?" Admittedly not the most suave response, but it's the one that comes blurting out.

"Jennie. Half the guys here are just sitting here staring at her, what's so special about her anyway?"

"Are you really surprised? BLACKPINK is a pretty big deal. Besides I want staring I was just-"

"Look at yourself, you're even sneaking in little peeks while talking to me."

Her hand is placed under your chin, forcing you to finally take a good look at her. You start to speak but she cuts you off.

"What’re you drinking?"

"Whiskey."

It's rare to see a woman take control. And here you were, sitting face to face with one. She flags someone down and orders you a fresh drink.

"What's your name?" You regret your lame choice of ice breaker the moment it's said out loud.

"Unimportant. Let's just have some fun and see where it leads."

Maybe there is a god. So far nothing you've said could be constituted as smooth, yet here she was, still giving you a chance.

Where things led was more surprises: first, a dance. A hot body pressed close and shaking, accompanied by a mind clouding cocktail of scents. Your eyes dart all over her: the glow of the mysterious woman's pale skin under the multicolored lights; her plump lips; her toned midriff.

"Still thinking about Jennie? I think you've got enough room to squeeze me in."

Both her hands come to rest at your hips, gently pushing yours forward and squeezing your body closer to hers. Your eyes lock, the music from the club fades out, and you find yourselves with your noses an inch away. This insanely hot girl, not the one you intended to spend tonight with, but not the worst thing you can think of right now. The tip of her nose brushes yours and her hands push forward one last time, the kiss can only be delayed a second longer.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Jennie Kim has some nice timing. Just when you were about to give into this other woman, there was a tug on your shoulder and you're spun around–Jennie Kim's face, contorted with a mixture of anger and jealousy.

"You. Step the fuck back, he's not yours." Jennie shoves her hand out to your impromptu date, but that was apparently not an adequate barrier to keep her away. The girl comes up and wraps around your arm, not allowing Jennie to steal you away.

"He was until you got in my way."

"In case you didn't hear: step the fucking hell away." Jennie is nothing short of livid. People have stopped dancing, staring at the unfolding scene. Your new date notices the attention.

"Fine! He's not worth it anyway." And just like that your new acquaintance storms off, her hips and the smoke trailing from the bottom of her black dress being the last you'll ever see of her.

"Walk. Right. Now." Jennie drags you towards the hallway, likely intent on either berating or maiming you somewhere in private. In any other scenario it would sound like the fantasy of every man in South Korea, but right now you know it's bad.

A private room behind the dancefloor, a much better place to be killed and your corpse dumped than in front of hundreds of witnesses. She shuts the door with a slam hard enough you think it might shatter and locks it with an unnecessarily loud click.

"Who the fuck was that? You've only been here two minutes and you're already on top of another woman?!"

"Hey, hey, fuck you Jennie. Do you know what I saw when I came here? After you invited me? Oh you were totally there, sitting on another man's lap."

"That's not the same."

"Not the same my ass. Can you even begin to explain what it is then? No of course you can't. Because you're a spoiled fucking idol who does whatever the fuck you want."

You turn to leave, but are pulled back and receive a rough slap across the face. There's no pain, only the sudden red color filling up that side of your vision. She did it again. This time it brings with it the burning sensation. A stinging radiates across your cheek, an angry mark that burns more as the adrenaline fades.

Then in almost cliche like fashion you grab her face and slam her into the nearby wall, returning her slap with an aggressive kiss. Jennie doesn't try to pull away, in fact she gives just as much as she receives. If her jealousy made her slap, her frustration makes her kiss harder, her teeth digging in slightly at her efforts.

"Someone is still obsessed with me hmm~?"

"Fuck you." The reply is snarled out through the tears in your teeth.

"Why don't you? Make sure everyone out there knows who you belong to. You weren't even interested in that slut anyway. All you could think about was me."

Any rebuttal was silenced the instant a hand traced the outline of the bulge forming in your jeans. No words need to be said; she's right, there's only her. Her face, her smell, her voice. Jennie bites your collarbone through the shirt to try and get a rise and boy does it. A firm hand groping her behind and pulling her into you, meeting the hardness growing in your jeans. Jennie chuckles, enjoying the reaction.

"Do it. Go ahead."

Jennie fucking Kim. The girl of your dreams. The girl of your nightmares. You've fallen into her trap. What's happening right now can only be described as karma's cruel payback, an attempt to dangle your greatest desire right in front of your nose–before a final humiliating insult is slapped on it.

"You little bitch." Jennie taunts you, unraveling her flirtatious intentions as her skirt rides higher and higher along with your patience. "Go on. Put me through the wall. Pull it out and fuck me as hard as you can."

It would be too easy, wouldn't it? Giving her what she wants after what she did. Instead she's dragged to the couch and bent over you knees. Jennie yelps in surprise, before realizing what's coming to her.

SMACK.

"I didn't say stop." Jennie responds after feeling the forceful slap at her backside.

Another. Jennie cries out, before letting the sweetest sounds come tumbling out of her mouth. Your palm raises once more, pauses, and then swings down and impacts against the exposed skin. A large pink spot forms on the exposed skin as a result and you're starting to think Jennie is actually getting turned on.

"P-please."

"Well since you asked so nicely."

Her panties are brushed to the side and two fingers plunge in and begin exploring without any warning. Jennie squeaks and curls up at the sudden and bold invasion, but it doesn't take long before those two fingers find the sweet spot and stimulate a cascade of pleasurable electricity. In and out they go, aided in their efforts by the squelch of their occupant's excitement. The couch rocks as Jennie arches and bucks wildly, alternating between sporadic whimpers and full on screams of delight.

"I'm so close...so so close..."

Your fingers pull free then another smack against her ass again, interrupting her moment of bliss.

"You think you deserve to cum Jennie? Hmm?"

Jennie answers with an arch to her back, a long, sensual moan that turns into a low pitched growl.

"Yes...Yes...just let me cum please please."

She's grinding at the air, her desperation on full display. You're just a few seconds away from finishing her, of making this cute bitch cry out and go rigid as waves of pleasure radiate all the way from her groin to the rest of her body.

"Feel that pressed against your stomach Jennie? I think you need to suck it. Prove you deserve it."

Her feet meet the ground as she kneels between you legs, and with a final lustful glance, begins to pull away the zipper to your jeans. "You're a real fucker aren't you? Fine, I'll show you."

Down goes your underwear, tossed to the side of the couch, and up Jennie comes with the heaving package in her face. A tiny lick along the bottom of the shaft and then a more robust and adventurous one the entire length. No preamble this time, only the sudden heat and wetness as the girl with a history of petty remarks envelopes your member, coiling her tongue around the sensitive areas and sinking further into your lap.

This girl, Jennie Kim. How can she be so talented at such a crude act? The walls of her mouth shift in a thousand ways as she draws a throaty groan out of you, her tongue expertly knowing all the ways to drive you crazy. This fucking bitch, going deep, purposely drooling all over it, and looking up in satisfaction as she gags and chokes. Up and down she goes, swallowing and sucking back a mouthful every single time she rises. The picture perfect idol, loving nothing more than a throat full of cock, a wide streak of mascara under her eyes and spit all over her face.

The room grows ever hotter, the look in Jennie's eyes begging, imploring for you not to hold back. You sit upright and clutch onto her hair, fingers locking as tight as possible to guide her, taking charge of her bobbing head, sending yourself all the way up to your pelvis. Her arms are limp, her face is a mess, you've reduced a famous singer and model to a panting wreck, and that sight is almost too much.

"Fuck my mouth..." the pleads of the famous superstar when you let her up for air. Her request is granted, her hair gets pulled and the momentum carries your pulsating member all the way to the base. Inch by inch, millimeter by millimeter until the tip of her nose touches the pubic bone and her jaw is stretched as wide as possible, the outline of the member embedded into her throat.

The unholy gags are the hottest fucking thing ever. And the little flutters, her struggle not to cough, the spasms. Jennie Kim, proudest bitch alive. Choking and gagging on your cock, no thoughts in her brain of anything else but to please. She loves it, she wants it. More, more, more, always more, begging with her eyes the only way she could.

With a heavy gasp, you finally let up, letting her burning lungs draw air. While she is a coughing wreck, her face slick with tears and saliva, the thought that fills the forefront of her mind is exactly what's about to happen. The thrill, the idea, the exhilaration, she can't contain the giggling smile.

Jennie was a bad girl, touching herself while you fucked her face, showing off her fingers covered in her own juices and licking them clean. This woman was going to be the end of you, that smirk.

"You and that stupid ass cock." Jennie takes matters into her own hands, straddling your lap, lining up the tip. She's in control, now she'll decide just how far you'll sink into her.

"Dumb fucking whore." Your fingers wrap around her delicate neck. Her eyes widen, not in fear, but in excitement. They darken, her pupils dilating, the clear response to the aggression is reflected in a quickened pulse under the flesh. It isn't surprising the more forceful you get, the wetter she seems to get.

And holy fuck it feels so fucking good, Jennie's lower lips engulfing your tip. The walls of her cavern part and pull you deep within her, her breathing changes pace and volume, whimpering and panting as it sinks in further. She's warm, she's welcoming. Every inch is a bit tighter, the friction causing your heart rate to rise, and her arms, encircling you in a vice grip, coaxing a tighter hold on her throat. You can almost see the lightheaded effect it's having, the subtle shifts in her vision, the dream like daze that accompanies such euphoric sexual bliss.

Up and down Jennie bounces, the tempo of her breathing just a second out of synch, every moan coming just a second later. You don't try to hide your own pleasure either, groaning with a volume only a centimeter away from yelling and definitely noticeable beyond the walls. With a firm slap to the ass, her pussy responds in the best possible way; squeezing tightly for a moment and sending a pleasant shiver down your body.

Jennie fucking Kim. Her tightness, her perky tits, the fucking supermodel and worldwide heartthrob, riding you. That's a story to tell. The sight of this gorgeous bitch bouncing up and down like her life depends on it, the sound of flesh colliding reverberating throughout the room.

Her cries of pleasure come louder, with no sign of the fun ending any time soon. Another thrust and her eyes roll to the top of their sockets. The adorable scrunch in her nose, the contortion of the expression of carnal pleasure, the euphoria right after. The small smirk in the corner of her lips and the grinding of her hips into yours. She's close. Her face gives that away. Her walls pulsate, and if that doesn't sell it the pitch change of the moans certainly do. Her noises shift in timbre. Whines and loud whimpers, the sudden erratic nature.

There's no stopping her now, it's out of your control, and it's fucking beautiful. Jennie fucking Kim, cumming on your lap. Her thighs begin to spasm, a waterfall of juices spilling all the way down to the floor, pooling around your ankles. That fucking face, a cacophony of ecstasy. Then with one final, powerful groan, she suddenly stops. Her eyes shoot open and she curls up, freezing and grinding away. You pull her hair back, forcing the perfect idol to bare her neck and shriek, as her orgasm consumes her senses, her legs thrashing about and toes curled into their arches. Jennie fucking Kim came, her face red and a smile creeping upon the ends of her lips.

It's not over, not even close. Jennie's face a mask of desire, her breathing deep, still needing more, the short, panting breaths catching the tiny pieces of her hair waving across her face.

"Fuck me like you mean it." Jennie goads you on. Your hands wrap around her tiny waist, fingers digging into her flesh, and you start thrusting. Up into her body, down into her lap, each of her downward drops meeting a upward thrust, your hips meeting hers halfway. In no time her squeaky noises are echoing against the walls, your pelvic bones colliding hard, both of your bodies jerking about as you throw everything into each pump. Her eyes turn dark, a drunken gaze. Fuck yes, those lips curling back into a naughty, crazed smile.

"You can't fucking resist it can you?" Jennie screams the question, feeling your hands force her up and slam her back down with your hips surging forward. Her whole body lurching backwards from the impact and then snapping forward from the following motion. Another one, the smack of flesh meeting flesh resounding once more and the squirt of liquids spraying the air and wetting the sides of the couch. Jennie no longer cares, letting her body get fucked and then roughly jammed downwards and impaling herself repeatedly, filling the room with the loud slaps.

"You're nothing but a fucking whore aren't you?" You say it directly to her face and as expected the deprecating talk turns her on like nothing else. A genuine laugh followed by a growl and a "you want this tight pussy all for yourself?"

And another smack, a spank and a squeeze of her delicate ass. Her neck tilts backwards. Yes! Look into those deep pools, her gorgeous, intense stare. Losing control, that face, her mouth, it's open and wet and covered in saliva. That cute kittenish tongue sticking out of the edge of her lips.

Another thrust. Jennie's body flies forward from the impact, a lustful grin stuck on her face, burying your face in her small tits. Her chest jiggles with each pounding, a single moment of freedom followed by an instant of being engulfed in their softness. Those perfect mounds of flesh, enough to drive any sane man or woman mad with obsession, bouncing inches from your eyes, sweat coating their supple surface. Her giggle erupts and she sees that dumb smile plastered all over your face. Her nose rubs against your own. The stare is intense.

"We really fucking hate each other huh?" Jennie teases then goes in for a kiss. A sloppy, messy affair, her nails dig into your back, leaving a series of scratches as her pussy tightens around the engorged member within her. She's cumming again, the contractions drawing out another series of grunts.

"That's right, keep your dumb cock buried inside, you fucking love this tight pussy."

Oh how far this idol has fallen, the foulest mouth coming out the prettiest lips. Then she whispers in your ears to hold her hips tighter and fuck her harder, and fuck did you deliver. Her throaty groans filling your ears, a crescendo and a rapid beating pulse under your palms. You're close, this little superstar making sure you're as deep as you can be and clinging for dear life.

Jennie's hands wrap around your throat, squeezing, choking the life out of you, your vision blurring, and at the same time she's squirting a second wave and shaking violently. Her hips never stop moving, fucking herself silly. She doesn't stop, the nasty smirk has returned and a mumbled string of 'fuck fuck fuck' under her breath.

Jennie fucks you. Those perfect abs, her slim body, the smell of sex radiates all throughout. You're getting lightheaded, this cute piece of ass a violent whirl of raven hair and painful grip. The harder she orgasms, the harder she squeezes your neck. Then, stars start filling your field of vision and your vision goes white, the pulses start firing. Sick sadistic oxygen depravation brings one of the hardest orgasms in your life. That twisted smirk of the psychotic woman, the evil in her gaze as the heat fills the pit of her belly. She feels it, your load splashing inside of her womb. As you release, so do her fingers, the blood rushing back to your brain not a moment too soon.

Her expression, oh how proud she is for her conquest. You couldn't look anywhere else, this perfect devil in front of your eyes. The cute, tingly and erotic feeling flowing from your groin, it never stops and only grows, the continuous shots, emptying everything you have into her. This little fucking bitch, controlling you until the very end.

Jennie fucking Kim sits satisfied as you gasp for air, a mixture of confusion, satisfaction, and pleasure overwhelming your body. That beautiful little smirk, her hips rolling about, enjoying your final twitches before everything softens.

"See, now tell me that wasn't worth the wait."

Jennie collapses forward, a content sigh, a murmur in your ear about how her body feels. Your legs and feet tingle, a sort of numbness and buzz from the powerful waves of euphoria. Jennie stretches like a cat, all while nuzzling against your neck.

She leans in for a kiss, soft, gentle, uncharacteristically kind. Fingers thread into her hair, your palm resting against the side of her neck. She's warm, and tired, the once energetic and brash girl now settling down, almost vulnerable.

"You know why I keep coming back to you?" Jennie seems almost kind, running her hands through your hair and looking at you with loving eyes.

"Must be my big cock." You tease her, pinching her bum, and stealing another kiss in the process.

"Of course you can't be serious for a single fucking minute." Jennie shoves her shoulder against yours. "No you idiot. When we fuck, it's so fucking good. And look at you. Trying to act all tough, but when I tell you to fuck me harder you do just that. And when I tell you just like that you don't change pace for a moment."

The affection, her soft words. Jennie Kim loves to act hard, to show herself off. There's the world's most famous pop star, snuggled into your shoulder. Her finger tracing along the outline of your chin, the last few beads of sweat dripping down her forehead and her eyelashes. Jennie almost looks sweet, smiling down upon you. That signature gummy smile, the tiny dimple on one side. How can someone so rough, have such a charming side?

"Give me your jacket fucker."

Now this, this was much more of a Jennie thing to say. What a cute and silly request after something as passionate as what the two of you did. Jennie's sweat soaked body. Your brain is a fog, still lost in the moment, struggling to take the demand seriously, still looking at those flawless thighs, now tinged pink.

"I can't leave this place looking like this. You're taking me home. Don't think I'm done with you yet." The look in her eyes, that mischievous glimmer. A girl bent on devouring you. Her knee pressed against your crotch drives you back into reality. "Did you not get the fucking memo? Hurry the fuck up."

There is no shortage of nerve in this girl, and fuck if her confidence and commanding tone isn't doing anything for the part of your brain in charge of desire. If anything, you know she's not exaggerating, she still isn't fucking done. Not by a long shot.

It'll be another long night, the same pattern of anger and lust. Spoiled fucking idol Jennie Kim, turning you into a fucking puppet. Letting you do the strangest things to her in the middle of the night. That bitch. That perfect little devil.

And you wouldn't have it any other way...

#male reader #blackpink smut #blackpink jennie smut #jennie smut

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sweetluna20 · 2 months ago

Note

Paige Bueckers x makeup influencer (kind of like James Charles) and they do makeup on Paige (maybe do a q&a too) or review Christmas advent calendars in a YouTube video

advent calendar ❤️💚❤️💚

paige x reader

“HEYYY GUYSS!!! it’s me y/n and im here with my beautiful, amazing, talented girlfriend, the one ,the only PAIGEEEE BUECKERS!!”

“okay okay that’s enough” paige responds trying to calm both of you down. but that failed miserably causing you both to burst into laughter.

“anyways! today we’re going to open pr packages i’ve gotten from random companies. Oh! paige and i are going to do a Q&A so if anyone wants to ask some questions go for it!”

“just not too many.” paige adds, already seeing the comments flood in.

“okay the first package we have is from Laneige!” and the first question is for paige!” your voice caused paige’s ears to perk up.

“okay so the question is.. what is your favorite thing about me?”

you quickly look at paige and smiled before opening the package.

“umm.. i’d say my favorite thing about y/n is her personality and energy.” “on the internet she has an extroverted personality and a lot of energy, but i’m actuality she’s super shy and introverted. she has such a calm energy and a soothing voice. so i would say that’s my favorite thing about her.” paige stated with a smile with blush covering her cheeks.

you look down at the box, you have the brightest shade of pink on your face and the biggest smile.

“what’cha got there” paige asks looking over your shoulder.

“oh yes, so i have this really adorable laneige box filled with lip products. they have the cute lip balms and masks which are my favorite!” you try your best not to stutter, trying to ignore the warmth in your heart.

“aw you’re so cute” paige teases you

the comments flood in

“ooooo”

“y/n flustereddd”

“i feel so single rn 😭”

“paige come home the kids miss you”

you see that comment and your eye lit up.

“yea paige go home the kids miss you.”

“people these days… jeez” you say shaking your head at the camera .

“alright alright open your packages, since i have to go home to my kids”

by now you’ve opened 5 packages and paige has answered a couple of questions.

you reach for the next box.

your eyes bright up with joy and you have the biggest smile on your face.

“AHHH ITS AN ADVENT CALENDAR!!”

“i love these so much” you exclaimed

wait why?

“uh a comment is asking you why you love them” paige said trying to read it as fast as she could.

“omg yes! i love telling this story!”

“okay so this was back in 2021, paige and i were sophomores. at the time we’ve been going out together for around 3 months. so she took me to this really really nice restaurant in hartford. it was the end of november, like before we went on thanksgiving break. we both came with gifts, i got her a stuffed husky to bring on her trip to remember me.” you start giggling feeling your cheeks becoming more and more flustered.

“and um she got… got me an advent calendar. since we would barely see each other for the month of decmeber, she said that each day i open is a little gift from her.”

“it was my favorite thing in the world. each day i would open it and i would call nika telling her the little surprise i got.”

“ever since then i love getting advent calendars because they remind me of paige.” you smiled looking at the calendar in your lap.

without saying anything paige gave you a big hug and kiss.

“i love you so much” she tells you, with hearts in her eyes.

“i love you too.”

(not my best work, but it’s a new concept for me so i’m trying my best) thank you for the great request 💜

stylist★: @heart4caitlin, @yannasuniverse, @patscorner, @pbno5, @st4rrzynight, @mrsarnold

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige x reader #luna’s stories

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ihni · 11 months ago

Text

Billy Hargrove has been dead for little over two months when Steve opens the door to find him on the doorstep, dirty and pale and shaking. He stares at Steve with wide eyes – bluer than Steve remembers – before he collapses into a heap of dirty limbs halfway across the threshold. Steve pulls him inside, disposes of him in the couch in the living room, and naturally proceeds to freak the fuck out.

After some processing, he decides that he must be experiencing a very vivid dream – and honestly, it’s a welcome change after the usual nightmares – and since it’s merely a dream, he opens a bottle of his dad’s best whiskey, because where’s the harm, right?

An hour later finds Steve sitting on the floor with his back to an armchair, predictably drunk and watching Billy sleep. Or possibly being unconscious. It doesn’t really matter which, since it’s only a dream.

Turns out, though, that it’s not a dream – or if it is, it’s a damn weird one. Because Billy wakes up, and when he looks around the room and spots Steve there, he starts to cry, which. Is not something that Steve’s brain could ever dream up, alcohol-soaked or not. And Billy feels solid enough under Steve’s hand, when he awkwardly pats the other boy’s shaking shoulders.

The events that have taken place are eventually revealed, but make no sense to either of them. Apparently Billy woke up somewhere dark and cramped (the coffin, he doesn’t say, but Steve hears it anyway), promptly panicked, and … broke out, somehow. Dug himself out from the rain-soaked earth, and stumbled along the roads until he saw a house he recognized. Which was Steve’s house.

It’s impossible, Steve knows. Billy has been dead for months. Steve saw him die – had first row seats to the sight of him getting impaled by a monster made out of meat and bones – and coming back from the dead after all that is simply not possible. Yet here Billy is, sitting on the floor of Steve’s living room, not a mark on him.

(Literally. There are no marks, no scars. Just smooth skin where they both know he was speared through.)

They spend the rest of the night slowly making their way through Steve’s dad’s expensive whiskey.

In the morning, Billy says, voice hoarse; “I need you to drive me to California.”

Steve thinks of asking why. Thinks of Max, thinks of Billy’s parents, thinks of telling the Party or the police or at least some adult who would possibly know what to do. What he says, though, is “Okay.” The world swims, and he adds, belatedly, “Tomorrow, though. I’m too drunk to drive now.”

A snort is the last thing he hears before he falls asleep where he’s sitting.

~~~

Half the next day is spent nursing hangovers and realizing that nope, last night wasn’t a dream or an alcohol-induced hallucination. The other half is spent making preparations for the trip.

Now when Steve is sober, he revisits the idea to simply tell someone. Billy being back is a miracle, and there are people mourning him, people who has missed him –

Billy shuts that down hard and fast. “No one is mourning me here,” he says, voice gravel-rough. “If they act like they do, it’s because they’re feeling guilty. There’s nothing left for me here.” He licks his lips, and his next words are a whisper. “I never wanted to come here in the first place.”

And, like. If he really thinks about it, Steve realizes that they wouldn’t be able to keep Billy being back a secret if he stayed in Hawkins. And if they tell Max, or Billy’s family, then word would spread. The government would no doubt hear of it. There would be a high probability of Billy being taken in for tests, experimentation, whatever else.

He doesn’t deserve that, Steve thinks as he watches Billy emerge from the shower wearing borrowed clothes. Because Billy died saving them. Sacrificed himself for them, even when they’d done so little to try to save him. This? Driving Billy to California? It’s the least Steve can do for him.

~~~

They get on the road the next day. Steve has taken time off work blaming the death of an elderly aunt and a rare family gathering, and been as vague as he can get away with concerning how long he’ll be away. Early in the morning, they put their bags – Billy’s is a borrowed one, containing only Steve’s things since he has nothing of his own and understandably didn’t want to keep the clothes he had on when he was buried – in the trunk of the car, and get in.

Steve is driving. When they pass the “Leaving Hawkins” sign, Billy lets out an audible sigh and slumps down in his seat. Steve glances over at him, and Billy explains without being prompted; “I always hated this town. I can’t believe they fucking buried me here.”

His incredulousness over the fact draws a snort out of Steve.

~~~

It’s strange, how easy it is to get used to having Billy Hargrove next to him while in a confined space. Stranger yet, how well they get along considering their history. And even more strange, how different Billy seems now, when they’ve left Hawkins behind them.

Or perhaps it’s not strange at all – at least not in comparison to all the other weird stuff they’ve both seen and somehow lived through. In the great scheme of things, one young man coming back from the dead and wanting to go back home doesn’t even make the top ten list of weird shit.

Billy is surprisingly funny, and witty, and smart – and it is dazzling without the sharp edges. It takes Steve a while to recognize what is missing, and when he does, it makes him watch Billy with new eyes. Because Billy doesn’t seem to exist behind a layer of anger anymore. The tension is gone. The further they get from Hawkins, the easier Billy seems to breathe.

The change is remarkable. Makes Steve think that he probably never knew who Billy really was, before this.

He finds himself thinking that he is looking forward to getting to know the real Billy.

~~~

They take turns driving. Sometimes they talk, sometimes they sit in companionable silence, and sometimes whoever’s in the passenger seat naps while the other drives. They stop at gas stations to stock up on gas and snacks, and at diners for food. That first night, they drive straight through, but the next night they stop at a motel for some proper sleep in a bed.

They share a room, but lie in separate beds. They talk for hours in the dark before falling asleep.

“I never wanted to be buried underground,” Billy says, when they’re both on the edge of sleep. “They knew that.”

“What did you want, then?” Steve asks, never having considered an alternative.

“I wanted to get back to the ocean,” Billy says. “Have my ashes spread over the surface of the water and become one with the waves again.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say to that. That he’s sorry that even Billy’s own family didn’t respect his final wishes? That it sucks that they buried his body in the dirt of a town he hated, leaving him to rot there forever when he never even wanted to come there in the first place?

“’One with the waves’ … That sounds beautiful,” he decides on. And then, as an aside, “I’ve never even seen the ocean.”

Steve can hear the smile in Billy’s voice when he speaks next. “You’re going to love it. It’s … everything.”

~~~

They get closer – to California, and to each other – and the closer they get, the less urgency Steve feels to get to their destination. Because what will happen when they get there? Steve can’t just leave Billy there without a means to support himself. Without a home, without a car, without money – without someone to take care of him. Steve can’t help it – he worries.

And then he looks at Billy’s smiling face next to him, and feels his worries being washed away.

He still finds himself taking the scenic route more often than not. Insisting on taking detours to see the sights. Claiming he’s too tired to drive unless he takes a break.

Billy smiles as if he knows what Steve is doing, but he doesn’t make a comment. Doesn’t complain. Seems to enjoy this little bubble they’re in together, in Steve’s car with the world passing them by outside.

It’s strange. But it’s nice, too. Steve kind of doesn’t want it to end.

~~~

The last night, they stop at a motel an hour or two from their destination. They could have kept on driving, but none of them seemed to want to. So they get a room, as usual. Steve pays, as usual. There are two beds, as usual.

Yet, when it’s time to sleep, Billy forgoes his own bed and goes to stand by Steve’s. There’s a question in the air between them, unasked.

Steve answers by peeling back the comforter in invitation. His mouth is dry and his heart is beating like a drum in his chest as Billy climbs in next to him.

They don’t speak much, that night. But they kiss. And they hold each other.

“I never wanted to come to Hawkins,” Billy whispers between kisses. “And I hated it there. But I met you, so I guess it wasn’t all bad.”

The next morning, they wake up in each other’s arms.

~~~

“I’ll show you my home,” Billy says when they get back in the car after breakfast. Steve is back behind the wheel, because he wants a reason to keep his eyes on the road. If he watches Billy too much, he’ll do something stupid – like turn the car around and go back to Hawkins with Billy still in it, or perhaps decide not to go back to Hawkins at all, himself. Just, stay here with Billy, for a while longer.

It’s a fantasy that hurts, so he pushes it down. Concentrates on following Billy’s directions, and drive through a city bigger than one he’s ever been in.

(When he first spots the glittering blue between buildings, he gasps. So does Billy.)

They drive through the city, then out of it. Along a winding road with fewer and fewer buildings around, the ocean vast and terrifyingly endless to their right. Eventually Billy directs them down a gravel road that doesn’t have a sign and looks like it might lead onto private property. Steve would worry, would perhaps protest, if it wasn’t for the longing on Billy’s face.

They have to walk the last bit, Billy says. They get out of the car. It’s hours before noon, but it’s already warm. Steve’s in just a T-shirt, and for a second he his face to the sun to feel the warmth of it on his skin – before turning to Billy only to see him turned to the sun, too. Like a flower in bloom.

He looks golden, in this light.

After a short walk down a steep incline, they end up on a little beach. A tiny one, empty, with rocky outcrops on either side which makes it seem like they’re the only people on earth. The sand is fine and pale under their feet, the water lapping at the edges of it and then stretching out in front of them until it meets the horizon, far far away.

It’s beautiful. But it’s not exactly a house. And didn’t Billy say he’d show Steve his home?

“Mom used to take me here when I was a kid,” Billy says, kicking off his shoes. Steve does the same, and pulls off his socks as well. “We used to come here all the time.” Billy holds out his hand with a smile, and Steve takes it. They make their way to the water. “She’d watch me play in the water for hours, sitting on a towel, just listening to the waves and the seagulls.” The first step into the water is a shock – it’s cold, but not freezing. It almost feels alive. Steve takes a tentative step after Billy, bolstered by Billy’s widening smile. “I think taking me here was the most peaceful she ever got to be. It was for me, at least. The best times of my childhood.”

They stand there in the surf, feet in the water and holding hands, when Billy turns to Steve. His eyes are shining with unshed tears and his smile is wobbly as he places his hands on either sides of Steve’s face and leans in for the softest of kisses; their lips just barely brushing against each other.

“Thank you,” he says, and Steve’s heart skips a beat because it sounds like goodbye, “for not letting me stay buried in Indiana.”

He backs up a step. Brushes a tear from Steve’s cheek – that he hadn’t realized had fallen – and turns towards the endless sea. Takes a deep breath and starts walking.

Steve wants to reach out to stop him, wills himself to to say something, but he can’t. Somehow, he knows that this is where they were heading from the start. This is why they had to go here.

As Steve watches, Billy … dissolves. Like in a movie. One moment he is solid, and the next he’s … not. He turns to dust in front of Steve’s eyes, fine dust that glitters like gold in a sudden ray of sunlight. It – he – is spread out over the water, is carried over the clear surface by the gentle breeze.

Instead of being trapped in the ground inland, he becomes one with the waves again.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #sorry guys #canonical character death #got a scene stuck in my head and had to get it out #look at me keeping around the 2K mark!

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nakylvr · 3 months ago

Text

— YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW MY NAME

sophia laforteza x fem!reader

synopsis: you're a loner at school with your limited friends. sophia's the popular girl. you never wanted to talk to her, but unfortunately, when she spots you alone in the music room, you're forced to speak to her.

warnings/tags: language

wc: 3,6 k

next | "10 things i hate about you" masterlist

You didn’t have a lot of friends since your first year in college. To be honest, you never had a lot of friends. You stuck to yourself and didn’t like getting wrapped up with other people. It took some time for you to trust anybody, and you weren’t one to strike up a conversation with a random person. But, you had your little group that you were always with. They were good friends to you, and the only real ones you’ve ever had, even if their chaoticness was a handful at times.

“Dude, I will die if I have to take another test this week!”

You roll your eyes at Intak’s complaining he’s been doing for the past ten minutes while you sit on the field’s bleachers with him, Sunghoon, and Daniela. “Maybe if you studied you wouldn’t struggle so hard,” You retort, looking down at your notebook.

“I do study!” Intak exclaims.

You look up from your notebook to shoot a look at your friend, being able to spot his lie easily. “Yeah, sure,” You say sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

“It’s not that hard to study, Intak,” Sunghoon says but is looking at his camera as he listens to you three.

“You guys just don’t understand how hard it is for people like us,” Daniela speaks up from her position laying on the bleachers with sunglasses on.

You and Sunghoon side-eye Daniela at her words, but neither of you says anything.

“Yeah! Sporty people are not good at school!” Intak crosses his arms over his chest. “It’s not our fault we’re good at being athletic!”

“Dude, you’re lame,” You respond with another eye roll.

“Athletes are not lame!” Daniela exclaims, raising one of her arms and pointing in the air.

“Then why are you two never with your teams or the popular group?” You look up from your notebook as you speak.

“Well!” Intak starts but ends up saying nothing. “Okay, so what?! We’re friends!”

“Whatever,” You shake your head.

“Don’t be like that, Yn! You’re just like us!” Daniela sits up and wraps her arm over your shoulders. “Whether you wanna admit it or not, we’re all a bunch of fucking losers, and that’s okay! We don’t need to be like those annoying popular people.”

“Yeah!” Intak smiles. “Plus, have you tried making friends outside of us? It’s hard as hell! People suck at this school!”

You have to hold yourself back from rolling your eyes for the third time in five minutes, just nodding your head along to what they’re saying. “Right, right. I know,” You sigh. You look at the time on your watch and sigh again. “I gotta get to class,” You tell the three, standing up from your seated position on the bleachers.

“Boooooo!” Intak and Daniela both say as soon as you get up and start grabbing your things.

“Oh shut up,” You tell them, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “Maybe if you two actually went to class you wouldn’t always react that way when I go to mine.”

“Oh c’mon!” Intak whines, falling backward and lying on the bleachers. “Class is so boring!”

“Whatever,” You scoff while shaking your head.

Sunghoon finally looks up from his camera and spots a group of people starting to walk in your direction, and he looks back at the three of you. “I think now would be a good time to start leaving anyway. Look who just showed up,” He says, nodding his head over to where the people were.

All three of you, not so discretely look over to where Sunghoon nodded his head to see a group of four start walking up the bleachers. You can immediately recognize them, and it’s evident in the way your face contorts that you don’t like seeing them here. The most popular friend group in the school, the ones who could do whatever they wanted, the ones who could wrap others around their fingers. Except, the four of you didn’t give two shits about them. Or, that’s what you thought, at least. You and Intak were the ones to care the least, seeing as his team essentially shunned him for not wanting to hang out with the popular group, and you simply didn’t care. You were never one to care about the popular groups in all your years of school. You liked staying out of everything and not nearing the spotlight. You were okay with your few trustworthy friends rather than lots of friends who didn’t give a shit about you. You were fine without getting involved with them. You didn’t want to be near them.

The group of four sits down a distance away from you all, and you can see Intak’s eyes narrow as he watches them.

“What are they even doing out here?” Intak asks.

“Probably skipping class,” Daniela answers, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m out of here. I’m not getting caught up in no bullshit right now.” She stands up and grabs her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

“Same,” Intak nods, doing the same as Daniela.

“Are you coming, Hoon?” Daniela asks Sunghoon.

Sunghoon shakes his head. “No, I need a few pictures for my assignment, so I’ll stay out here,” He answers, looking down at his camera.

“Are you serious?” Intak inquires. “Dude, you can go anywhere else and do that, why stay here?”

“I’m waiting for the Cheer team to practice,” Sunghoon lies, but none of you realize it.

“Okay…” Intak’s voice trails off. “Yn, do you wanna walk to class?” He changes his gaze towards you.

“Sure,” You nod. You can assume there's a specific reason he’s asking you this, but you can’t tell what it is.

“All right, see ya guys,” Intak gives Sunghoon and Daniela a fist bump before starting to walk down the bleachers with you.

As soon as you two make it off the bleachers and onto the cement ground, Intak looks over at you.

“Hoon was totally lying, right?” He asks.

“What?” You look at him with confusion. “About what?”

“Waiting for the cheer team to practice,” Intak says. “The cheer team doesn't even have practice today.”

“What are you trying to say? That he was lying to us?” You question. You don’t understand where he’s trying to lead with this, and it’s evident by the expression on your face.

“Obviously he was lying to us,” Intak answers. “The real question is why was he?”

You shrug your shoulders. “How the hell would I know?”

“Yn, seriously,” Intak stops to open the door back inside the building for you. “We don’t lie to each other, that’s like, our whole thing.”

“Okay Eleven from Stranger Things,” You roll your eyes, patting his shoulder as a thanks and walking inside the school.

“I’m serious Yn!” Intak retorts, following after you and letting the door close behind him. “Hoon doesn’t lie to us!”

You shrug for a second time, looking over at Intak. “Why are you so pressed about it? I’m sure it was nothing.” You wave your hand around.

“I don’t think so,” Intak mumbles. “Yn, don’t you-”

You stop in front of your class, putting your hand on Intak’s chest to silence him. “Intak, it’s fine. I’m sure it was nothing, seriously. I’ll see you at lunch?” You say.

Intak lets out an exasperated sigh before nodding his head. “Yeah,” He says.

“Okay,” You send a small smile his way before going into your class.

…

You ended up staying in your class during lunch. Intak had come by asking if you were going to leave anytime soon, and you told him you were stressing over this project so you were staying there until the next period started. He told you he would bring you food later, and he had yet to, so you sat in the music room at the piano, looking over what you made.

You took a deep breath, putting your hands over the keys before starting to play. The project was to create a new version of a song that was randomly chosen, and the song you got was Blinding Lights by The Weeknd. You didn’t particularly like the song when you listened to it, but you knew exactly how to work with it to make it a slower, piano-based song. Little did you realize, that someone was heading towards the room. You didn’t even hear the door open and close, continuing to play the song until the end.

Suddenly, someone behind you started clapping and you jumped, turning around and freezing in your spot at the sight of who it was. Sophia Laforteza. You probably looked like a deer in headlights, silently staring as she smiled at you.

“That was really good,” She says once she stops clapping. “Is it for the end-of-semester project?” She asks.

“Thanks,” You reply awkwardly. You nod your head at her question. “Yeah, it’s a piano version of Blinding Lights,” You answer.

“Wow, a much better song than what I got for it,” Sophia chuckles. “I got Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Mm,” You hum, nodding your head. You were confused as to why she was talking to you, considering she had never even glanced in your direction before. You knew of her, of course. She was one of the most popular girls on campus, everyone knew who she was that went to this school. “Why are you here?” You ask deadpan.

“Well, honestly, I was walking down the hall and heard the music so my curiosity took over I suppose,” She answers, a sheepish smile on her face. “Are you majoring in Music?”

“Yep,” You nod your head.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” She questions, but there’s no condescension behind her voice that you can tell of. She sounds as if she’s being genuine in her question.

“Not really,” You end up saying with a shrug. “Not to the popular people, at least,” You add without thinking.

Sophia’s smile falters for a split second before it’s back. “Ah, I see,” She responds. “You know me, then?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” You sigh. “Sophia Laforteza, straight A’s, most popular girl at this school, teacher’s favorites, blah, blah, blah,” You swing your legs over the other side of the stool you’re sitting on to face her.

Sophia seemingly isn’t fazed by your words, the smile still on her face as she nods her head. “Well, I guess you’re not wrong,” She says. “I-”

“Look,” You cut her off before she starts talking again, grabbing your papers and putting them in your bag. “If you’re trying to accomplish something here, it’s not going to work. Because, with full offense, I don’t care.” You sling your bag over your shoulder and stand up. “Go find someone else to bother.” You start walking past her, not bothering to look at her as you do so.

“I never caught your name, y’know!” She says as you reach the door.

You don’t respond, leaving the room and heading down the hall in search of your friends.

…

“Are you serious? That’s how it turned out? You couldn’t even get her to say her name?”

“Super lame.”

“It's not my fault!” Sophia slams her hands down on the table. “You guys literally gave me the worst possible person!”

“Duh, that's the whole point,” Lara responds.

“Ugh!” Sophia groans dramatically.

“Don’t complain, you’re the one who agreed to this,” Jay says, looking at his phone as he talks. “Like Lara said, the whole point was to choose the worst person.”

“Shouldn’t it be easy for you anyway?” Manon questions. “You’re the one who claimed you could pull anyone.”

“Okay well,” Sophia tries to think of an answer before groaning again. “Jay, can’t you just ask one of your friends if they know anything?”

Jay glances up from his phone to look at Sophia. “Who the hell would I know that would know something about her? I have tons of friends, but none of them hang out with losers,” he answers.

“Great,” Sophia mutters under her breath.

“Y’know who you could ask,” Manon starts, leaning forward. “The center of the soccer team, his name is Intak or something. They’re always together, you should ask him.”

“Center of the soccer team?” Sophia repeats, trying to remember if she knew the boy or not. “Oh my god, you mean the guy that’s like, shunned from the team?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Manon nods.

Sophia thinks about it for a moment before speaking again.

“When does the team practice next?”

…

After the odd interaction with the most popular girl at the school, you managed to find Intak fairly fast by nearly running into him. Now, the two of you were heading to the bleachers outside to find Sunghoon and Daniela.

“Oh, by the way, I have something to tell you,” You say to Intak as he opens the door to outside for you.

“Something good?” Intak asks, following you outside.

“Eh,” You shrug your shoulders. To be honest, you didn’t know what you would call it. It wasn’t good, but it wasn’t exactly bad either. It was just…odd to you. Which is why you had to talk about it with them as soon as you saw them.

“Hey guys!” Intak waves as soon as you two step onto the lowest set of the bleachers in front of the field once he spotted the other two.

“Yn! You had us waiting here forever!” Daniela exclaims dramatically.

“Sorry,” You say as you sit down. “I was held up by someone.”

“The teacher?” The latina questions.

“No,” You shake your head. “Sophia was talking to me.”

All three of your friends stop what they’re doing and turn to stare at you with wide eyes.

“Laforteza?”

“What did she want?”

“Oh my god she didn’t do anything did she?”

“Calm down!” You raise your hands up in defense. “It was a normal conversation. It was still weird though.”

“Did she just show up randomly?” Sunghoon asks.

“She said she heard the music and decided to see what it was,” You answer with a shrug.

“Bullshit,” Daniela says. “The walls are literally soundproof. She had to have seen you and then decided to go in.”

“Yeah,” Intak agrees, opening a soda and handing it to you. “But, why would she even talk to you? She’s never even looked in our direction before.”

“I dunno,” You shrug again, taking the soda and sipping from it. “It’s just weird. I mean, that they were on the bleachers with us before lunch and suddenly she shows up to the music room for no reason?”

“It’s definitely odd,” Sunghoon nods. “Maybe it’s nothing, though.”

“Uh-uh,” Daniela shakes her head. “There has to be a reason. It’s too weird otherwise.”

“Well, maybe we shouldn’t worry about it! What did you even say, Yn?” Intak looks over at you.

“She kept trying to talk to me but I didn’t really respond,” You answer. “I don’t think she even knows my name.”

“Let’s keep it that way,” Daniela tells you. “Getting involved with the popular group isn’t something we do. Just hope this is a one-time thing.”

“Yeah,” You nod. “I hope so.”

…

After finishing your last class of the day, it was already dark outside by the time you stepped out of the main building. You could feel the humidity in the air and assumed it was going to rain sooner than later, meaning you should probably start on your way to your dorm before it starts. You never brought an umbrella anyways. That being said, the second you step out from under the overpass, you feel a wet droplet hit your head. Great.

With a sigh, you put the hood of your hoodie over your head and start walking to your dorm which was across the campus. The rain progressively gets worse the further you walk, the wind not helping as you start to freeze past your thin hoodie and pants you were wearing. You hear someone’s voice from afar but don’t pay much attention to it, not thinking they are talking to you. Until you stop feeling the rain hit you.

You freeze completely, glancing up through your hair and seeing an umbrella now above your head, and when you turn your head to see who is holding it, your eyes widen.

“I was calling for you, y’know,” Sophia says to you, a small smile on her face.

“Oh,” You let out. “Sorry, I didn’t think you were talking to me,” You respond.

“It’s okay,” She replies. “Are you heading back to your dorm?” She asks.

“Yeah,” You nod, awkwardly shifting on your feet.

“Want me to walk you back?” Sophia offers.

You’re shocked by her question, and you’re sure it’s evident on your face the way your jaw hangs open slightly before you quickly shut it. You don’t know what to say. Say no you can practically hear Daniela’s voice telling you as you contemplate what to do. Your eyes meet Sophia’s for the first time, and you try to see if there’s an ulterior motive behind her eyes, but you can’t seem to find one. The word comes out easier than you thought it would. “Sure,” You eventually answer.

The smile on Sophia’s face grows wider when you accept her offer. “Lead the way, then,” She says.

You don’t realize the smile growing on your own face just at the sight of seeing hers, and there’s a weird feeling in your chest as you absentmindedly stare. You’re shaken out of it by a breeze hitting you, and you quickly spin on your feet and start walking to your dorm again, now with Sophia by your side holding the umbrella above the both of you.

“So,” Sophia starts, a hesitant tone in her voice that you notice. “Sorry if I freaked you out by showing up randomly earlier today.”

“What?” You glance over at her, not believing the words coming from her. “Oh, it’s fine. I just- I was just surprised, is all.” You aren’t sure why you’re so nervous all of a sudden, but it’s clearly obvious by the way you’re responding. While you do get nervous when talking to other people who aren’t your main group of friends, you never got like this. That was a fact. You don’t even know why it’s happening now. But, you can’t think of it for too long until Sophia talks again.

“How long have you been into music?”

You were taken aback by her question, expecting something else to come out of her mouth instead. You don't know what, but anything else. “My whole life, I guess,” You answer after a while. “I’ve always liked music, I mean. I don't know.”

Sophia nods, her eyes not leaving you as she walks next to you. “I get that. I’m the same way.”

“Really?” You say before you think.

“Yeah,” She nods again, moving some of her hair out of her face. “I mean, I’ve always been into music, but I only started wanting to make it when I was in middle school. Then I decided to major in it. It's fun, other majors are boring.”

You nod, a little giggle coming from you at her last words. “That's true, I guess. My friend is majoring in Photography and he swears up and down it's not boring but I know he's lying.”

Sophia’s eyes light up at the sound of your giggle, she wants to hear it more. She’s never really looked in your direction before, but as she walks beside you, her gaze hasn't left you for one second, like she's taking all of your features in before you run off and likely never talk to her again. She doesn't want that to happen, though. For you to run off after speaking to her. Your hair is bunching out the sides of your hood, and she has to fight the urge to push a strand out of your eyes knowing what your reaction would be. “You have uh- a-” She says, suddenly stammering over her words when you look over at her.

“What?” You question. You can see her other hand hesitantly moving, barely catching it out of the corner of your eye, and you raise an eyebrow at her. “You good?”

“Yep!” Sophia quickly looks away and in front of her, stopping in front of the building. “Well, I won’t be a creep and follow you to your dorm so I’ll leave you here,” she adds swiftly, closing her umbrella and holding it over to you.

You stop walking when she does, standing under the roof as you look at her confused when she holds the umbrella out. “What’re you doing?”

“You never have an umbrella. You can use this one,” Sophia replies, her hand still holding outward.

You bite your tongue to keep yourself from saying something you know would ruin this, instead just slowly taking the umbrella, your fingers grazing against hers that makes a new feeling shoot through you as you quickly retract your hand. “Well- uhm- thanks for uh walking me back a-and this,” You struggle to get out.

“It's no problem,” Sophia shakes her head while smiling. “Don't worry about it.” There's a moment of silence between you two before she speaks up again. “I’ll see you around? Maybe?” She says in a hopeful tone.

There's no hesitation when you answer this time. Maybe it's the hopeful tone in her voice. Or it's the smile on her face that you've seen countless times but this time it's directed towards you instead of someone else. Either way, a smile is on your face as you respond. “Yeah, maybe.”

You turn and open the door, glancing back at Sophia who’s still standing there. “My name is Yn, by the way, in case you were still wondering,” You say before entering the building and leaving Sophia standing outside in the rain watching you leave her sight. She stood there for a minute or two before walking away, likely going to get sick later, but she didn’t mind. She was just one step closer to her goal. As long as you wouldn’t find out, everything would be fine.

tag list(open!): @zhivaxo ; @yeetaberry127 ; @ourlovesarang ; @ponyojoo ; @jeindall777 ; @falling-intoo-deep ; @mcuppidz ; @baelabong ; @miyanok ; @jellaaa ; @winieter ; @artrizzler19 ; @starstruckgoateepuppy ; @pminjucaptor ;

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop gg x reader #katseye x reader #katseye imagines #katseye scenarios #sophia laforteza x reader #sophia x reader #sophia imagine #sophia scenarios #10 things i hate about you series

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sorrowsofsilence · 11 months ago

Text

Nightmares • Sebastian

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!reader (oneshot)

Words: 2.1k

Warnings: Smut 18+ (fem!fingering, male!receiving, explicit language)

Prompt: You wake up from a nightmare, and your friend Noah finds a way to keep it off your mind.

Authors note: I know this prompt was requested a while ago, but I finally got it out hehehHEHEHE

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @th4t-em0-k1d @dsireland86 @whenthesummerdies @spicywhenspeaking @gretaswhore28 @veronicaphoenix @lma1986 @calleyx13 @somewhere-diamond @talialovesmiw @auratheopossumwitch @blackveilomens @skulliecadaver-blog @silentglassbreak @darkmxgician

(some tags are from older one shots, so if you want on or off the tag list pls let me know! :3)

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY IN REAL LIFE! IT IS FICTION! IT IS JUST FOR FUN! <3

“I don’t want anything to do with you ever again.” He seethed through his tongue, piercing me with his harsh words.

“But-“ you whispered, barely able to make a sound as your stomach clenched with complete heartbreak.

You never should have admitted your feelings for your best friend.

Noah’s glare was grim as he pointed a finger into your chest, disgust radiating off of his tone, “I would never love someone like you.”

His words dug into your soul, breaking you from the inside out as if you were a worthless, disposable vase, shattering into unfixable pieces.

“Y/N,” he yelled, face inches from yours with a snarl evident on his face as he bore hatred into you.

“Y/N!”

Your eyes opened as you gasped, your body flying upward as you sat on the couch, chest heaving heavily.

Wet tear-stained cheeks left you gathering your bearings, before making eye contact with a concerned brunette, his auburn orbs furrowed with distress.

You coughed and choked on your saliva, breathing with intensity as you sobbed loudly, pulling the thin fuzzy blanket up to your throat in an attempt to comfort yourself.

With legs draped over Noah’s lap, the two of you were placed on the couch. Looking around the room in confusion as the blue light from the tv danced across the darkened room, you watched it illuminating Noah’s worry. The sound of the movie that you were long-gone from paying attention to, was muffled within your ears as they rang with anxiety, unable to focus on what just happened.

Right, you were watching a movie with him; but must’ve fallen asleep.

It was just a nightmare- but it felt so real.

Noah’s calloused hand reached out to you, his slender fingers delicate as he rested them on your leg, ghosting over the exposed skin from your shorts.

“Y/N,” Noah’s voice cracked with fret, “what happened?”

You sniffed as you wiped your eyes with your sleeve, shaking your head, “n-nothing, I just had a bad dream.”

Sucking in a hyperventilating breath, you sighed and Noah opened his arms, inviting you into his space.

You hesitated for a moment, something that he noticed, before he reached over to grab your shoulders and pulled you into him anyway.

You relaxed slightly once safe in his familiar arms, pressed against his chest. Your face nuzzled into his black sharingan hoodie, his cologne faint as it mixed with the smell of tide from his laundry. The fabric was soft against your s/c skin, and Noah’s fingers began cradling your head, running across your scalp and through your strands in a soothing motion.

His free hand rubbed up your back as you rocked gently, “did you want to talk about it?”

“uh, n-no.” You hiccuped.

Your heart pounded at the thought of telling him what happened in the dream. He couldn’t know it was about him rejecting you, saying he would never love you.

The two of you had only been friends for a couple of years, meeting at a record label party. You were talking to Matt about sound mixing and Noah had overheard; and you’ve been inseparable since.

You never intended to fall in love with him. Of course you’ve always found him handsome, but there wasn’t ever an initial crush. However as you got to know him, his humour and personality sucked you in, leaving you completely whipped; and lost.

It was easier to believe he would never feel the same, because you were just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

Noah sucked in a breath, “are you sure? I’m pretty worried about you right now, not gonna lie.”

Shrugging, you squeezed onto his body and clung to him. Noah’s small circles on your back delved lower and lower before sliding underneath your crew neck, inviting himself to trail his nails along the bare skin of your back. He traced rhythmic patterns, leaving the skin goose-bumping and tingling.

He always did that when you were anxious.

“One second you were quietly sleeping, the next you were thrashing and crying.” He whispered, resting his cheek on your head. He was genuinely worried, and you knew he cared about you; despite the harsh words that came from the dream.

You exhaled heavily, easing into his touch, “It’s okay, it was just awful… I don’t want to talk about it.”

Noah hummed, agreeing warily. You twisted your body so you were resting your back against his chest and snuggling into his arm that wrapped around you, before turning your attention back to the movie. His hand still rested along the skin beneath the sweater, holding onto your side.

You had no clue what was going on in the movie, but the two main characters on screen were heavily kissing, and beginning to strip. You and Noah watched in silence, ignoring the awkward tension that began to build as you held each other to the sex scene unfolding ahead.

With puffy eyes you wiped your cheeks again and began focusing on breathing, worried he’d notice the way it hitched as the characters loved each other. Your mind raced as it replayed the nightmare over and over again.

Noah’s torso stiffen, his hand on your side hesitating for a moment, before circling the skin again. He ran his hand across your stomach, soothingly.

You pretended to be focused on the movie, and so did Noah, but knew his attention shifted once his fingers tailed further down, the tips treading dangerously close to the hem of your shorts.

He dipped his fingers just between the waistband, running them across your abdomen, the skin tingling at the sensation.

Sucking in a shaky breath as he pushed his hand down further, touching the top of your underwear; you felt your stomach churn in anticipation.

“What are you doing?” You asked nervously, confused at his actions. Noah’s always been touchy with you, whether it was playing with your hair, holding and hugging you, or tickling your skin; but this was something different- something blurring the line between friendship and more.

His chest vibrated as he spoke, a sultry touch added to his tone, “Maybe, if you’re comfortable,” his fingers continued to slide further down, now between your underwear, “you need a little distraction?”

Your heartbeat quickened at his words, a mix of confusion and excitement washing over you. Noah’s fingers lingered for a moment, waiting for an answer.

“What do you mean?” You whispered and felt him smile as his chin rested on the top of your head.

“I can tell you’re overthinking,” He said gently, “so, let me give you something else to focus on?”

The muscles of your thighs clenched at his words as lust washed through you. Of course, you’ve thought about Noah’s inked fingers; there have been many times you imagined your own were his during nights fated to lustful thoughts.

As the room felt smaller and smaller, your mind began to wander to dirty images of succumbing to Noah, the nightmare beginning to wash away.

Nodding slowly you questioned him, “like?”

A breath caught in your throat once his fingers dipped against your sensitive skin, pressing small circles with the pads of his middle and ring fingers.

“This,” his voice hoarse and hungry.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek as Noah’s fingers slid between your folds, the slick arousal coating his fingers as he teased your entrance.

“You’re soaked, and I’ve barely done anything,” he chuckled, and your face flushed from embarrassment. Everything about him turned you on, and now he knew.

You hummed, too nervous to make a sound as his fingers sank into you. With your head tilted back to rest it onto his shoulder, you closed your eyes, afraid to look at Noah who was peering down.

Noah’s free hand ran up underneath your shirt, passing your chest before stopping at the nape of your neck.

“You’re allowed to moan,” He chuckled, his fingers curling.

Laughing lowly, your hips beginning to rut towards his touch, “Well then, I’m going to need you to make me.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Eyes fluttered open to his, a sly smile playing on his lips.

Noah’s dark eyes flickered to his hand that pleasured you, watching how you pushed and pulled from his touch, his mouth agape, almost moaning himself. His repetitive motion left you crumbling, body close to release.

His fingers continuously curled towards your pleasure, his thumb pressed against your clit as he skillfully gave you everything he had. His free hand slid from the base of your neck, grabbing hold of your chest, squeezing.

Noah’s fingers slid up, the pads rubbing along aggressively, stimulating every desire you have ever had. At that moment a moan escaped your throat and he smiled widely, encouraging him to go even faster.

“There you go,” He groaned in contentment and you felt him harden below. Your fingers gripped his thigh, nails digging into his skin as eyelids lowered in rapture, stimulating that you were seconds away from release.

“Oh fuck,” you cried as you came, your other hand gripping Noah’s that held you from above your shirt, squeezing as your abdomen clenched. Legs began closing around his hand as Noah worked out your orgasm, refusing to stop until you pushed him away.

With heavy pants you sat up, turning to face Noah who smiled, taking his fingers into his mouth and licking your release off of them. The tension between you two grew stronger as his hand then slid to the top of his cotton shorts, palming his erection that pushed tauntingly against the fabric.

You watched hungrily, mind no longer thinking about the nightmare from minutes before; but instead wanted to see how far he’d be willing to go- just this once.

“I think I need more of a distraction,” you said delicately, adrenaline taking your racing heart. Without a second thought, you then straddled Noah on the couch, grinding into him as his fingers gripped your hips.

Your body began aching for Noah’s touch again, craving him as his auburn eyes flicked between your own and your lips. You leaned down as his hands travelled up your body, gripping your face as he broke the distance and kissed you desperately. You couldn’t help it as your stomach grew butterflies, his soft lips devouring your own in a hungry kiss, lips open as his tongues pushed against each others.

A guttural groan escaped Noah as he kissed you deeper, the beat of his heart vibrating against his chest in excitement. His hands glided down to follow every curve of your body, pushing and pulling against the skin with need. His hands landed on either side of your hips once again before gripping your ass, pushing you into his arousal, frantic for friction.

“I bet I can make you come without even touching you,” you teased and spoke into his lips, rutting back and forth along his covered length.

Noah chuckled darkly, “I guarantee you could,” his breath quickened, “but I’ve dreamed about your lips wrapped around my cock too many times to let that happen the first time.”

Pausing for a moment, you stared down at him, almost shocked at his words. His smile was radiant as he brought you into another haste kiss, feeling giddy as you two melded into one.

Dream, about you?

“Really?” You whispered, barely audible. You shoved the surprise to the back of your brain, kissing him eagerly one more time before sliding off his lap and onto the floor. Positioning yourself between his legs, you then gripped the hem of his shorts as he watched every move, analyzing each touch.

“I need you Y/N,” he replied as you pulled his shorts down, his arousal breaking free and standing hard against his stomach. You couldn’t help but let out a moan as you gripped him, beginning to stroke up and down.

Noah ardently pushed into your hand and watched with furrowed brows. You then slowly licked a strip up his length before taking him into your mouth fully.

Swirling your tongue along the tip, you then began sliding down, lapping and sucking. Listening to his moans left your knees weak, barely supporting yourself below, succumbing to his need.

Noah’s fingers tangled in your hair as he held it out of your face, admiring you worshiping him. His head fell back in pleasure as you took your free hand to stroke what was free at the base, rubbing his skin firmly but in a delicate manner.

“Jesus fucking Christ Y/N,” his groan deep and lewd, the sensation of your mouth wrapped around him leaving Noah crumbling to the touch.

You wanted to take an orgasm from him, but weren’t sure whether you wanted him coating the back of your throat, or breeding your insides.

“So,” you licked up Noah again before pulling back, stroking him with a hand as you spoke, “do you want to come in my mouth…”

You trailed off, before looking up at him devilishly through your lashes, “or inside of me?”

Noah’s slanted-slutty grin and lidded eyes told you everything, but his words reassured you completely, erasing any signs of doubt you had from the nightmare.

“I’ve always wanted to make every inch of you mine.”

#bad omens #noah sebastian #bad omens cult #bad omens band #noah sebastian davis #metalcore #Noah Sebastian smut #bad omens smut #smut #nightmare #bad omens fic #smut oneshot #best friends smut

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Note

Worried/gentle Pre relationship Sirius x reader who’s having a panic attack (his first time seeing her have one)

Thanks for requesting!

cw: panic attack

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

Sirius is no amateur concert-goer. He knows how to hunt for the best tickets, how to smuggle in drinks, and how to get there early enough that he gets right up by the stage. Since it’s your first real concert (you argued that you’ve seen musicians play at restaurants and parks and the like, which Sirius informed you doesn’t count), he’s pulling out all the stops.

“Alright, doll, we’ve got one bottle of water and one of vodka. Newbie’s choice.”

“You can stop hammering in the newbie thing so hard, you know,” you say, reaching for the vodka. Your eyes flicker between the people starting to gather around you as they filter into the venue. “I don’t want to be ostracized by everyone here.”

Sirius grins. “I’ll vouch for you, don’t worry.”

You mirror his smile wryly, taking a covert swig from the bottle. “Won’t someone take this away from us?”

“No,” he says, “right now everyone who works here is too focused on getting people inside, and soon it’ll be too packed to see us anyway.”

You press your lips together as you nod, taking another hearty sip of the vodka.

As if he hasn’t already been doing it all week, Sirius launches into a biography of the band you’re seeing. How they’d gotten started, when they’d been discovered, how he’d first discovered them (the true beginning of their fame, really), etc, etc. At first, you’re smiling and chiming in as he talks, but gradually he notices you becoming less responsive. You seem distracted. Must be the atmosphere, he reasons. There’s an exhilarating buzz going through the crowd, which Sirius is pleased to note comprises a rather impressive turnout for a band that’s just getting their start. With the colored lights the venue’s management turned on after everyone had been let inside, it’s difficult to make out distinct faces in the sea of bobbing heads. Sirius would hardly know it was you next to him if you hadn’t linked your arm through his the first time someone had cut between you two, as though worried he’d get swept away if you didn’t hold on tight. He hardly minds; if things were different between you, he doubts you’d ever be able to extricate his hand from your back pocket.

“You with me, dollface?” he asks when you don’t seem to notice he’s asked you a question. He’d asked if you wanted to try to find an after-party, though he knows you well enough to suspect you’ll be ready to collapse into bed by the time the concert itself is finished.

“Hm?” You look at him, the sparkly eyeshadow you’d asked him to put on you glinting as you blink. Your pupils look huge. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

Sirius starts to nod, but then someone behind you shoulders you accidentally and you jolt like you’ve been shot.

He eyes you warily. “You sure? You look a bit warm.”

It’s an understatement. Your features gleam with sweat under the colored lights. The crowd does make it a bit balmy inside, but your face is as flushed as if you’ve run a mile.

“I’m okay,” you say, though you won’t look at him. You take a breath as if to steady yourself, untangling your arm from his to press a hand to your chest.

Sirius touches your shoulder tentatively. It’s hot and slick under his hand. “Sweetheart, you’re shaking,” he says, panic creeping up his throat. This is all a bit too familiar. “Do you need some air?”

You suck in a breath, the action sounding more effortful than it should. “Fuck, I’m sorry,” you pant. “Yeah, I think—yeah.”

Sirius glances around, taking a millisecond to mourn your prime spot before plotting a course through the crowd. He makes you hold his hand as he shoulders his way through, keeping you close behind him. It’s frightening how he can hear the sound of your gasping breaths even over the eager ruckus of the crowd.

He gets you through as quickly as he can, beelining for the exit. “You’re alright,” he tells you as you both break out into the crisp night air. It takes all the self-control he has to keep his own anxiety from his voice, but he does his best to sound gentle and calm. “We’re going to find you a place to sit down.”

He guides you over to the side of the building, mostly out of sight of traffic going in and out the doors, and sits you down on some grass. You fold your knees into your chest instantly, the position obviously familiar, and press your forehead to your knees.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Sirius murmurs, crouching beside you and rubbing your back. Smooth, slow passes up and down your spine. “I’m not going to leave you. Just breathe, doll.”

You seem like you’re really trying, forcing slow if stilted breaths through your mouth. He gathers the hair off your nape, using a ponytail from his wrist to tie it loosely over your head. The cool air seems to be helping somewhat. Your ears and neck are less flushed, but you’re still shaking something terrible. He redoubles his efforts on your back, pushing his palm into your spine in a way he hopes is soothing.

“I’m sorry,” you gasp into the space between your knees and your abdomen.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it, please,” Sirius begs you. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”

You shake your head.

“Anything I can do?”

You blow out a breath. Shaky, but more substantial than the rest. “Can I have the water?”

“Yeah, of course.” Sirius’ own hands tremble slightly as he untwists the cap, passing it to you. You bring your head up to drink it, taking brief, measured sips. Your makeup is all smeared underneath your eyes.

“Thank you,” you manage once you’re done. Sirius gets the impression you mean for more than the water.

“Don’t mention it.” He takes the bottle from you, hand resuming its path on your spine. You tuck your head back into your legs. “Take your time, love, we’re not in any rush.”

Slowly, over the course of the next few minutes, your breathing evens out. Some of the tension leaves your body, your posture slumped and miserable as goosebumps appear along your arms. Sirius drapes his jacket over you, continuing to rub your back through the thick material.

Finally, you lift your head.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is tight, a tear slipping down your face. Sirius’ heart revolts, batting against his ribs like a frantic bird in a cage.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says, doing his best to keep the desperation out of his voice as scoots closer to your side. He brushes the wetness away with his thumb. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, sweetness.”

“No, I know crowds do this to me, and I didn’t even warn you, I just—” Your face scrunches, as if you’re endeavoring to keep some great pain at bay. “I wanted to do this for you.”

Suddenly he’s the one with no air. Guilt chokes him, hot and thick in his throat. “You didn’t have to do anything for me, dollface. I mean, I appreciate it,” he gives you one of his best smiles, rewarded when your eyes crinkle slightly in response, “but I never want you to put yourself through anything like this for me. I’m happy when you’re happy, understand?”

You nod, eyebrows stitched together remorsefully. Sirius wants to kiss between them, then all up and down your face until not a hint of melancholy remains, but in lieu of that he tucks a piece of hair that had escaped his earlier capture behind your ear, thumbing affectionately at your cheek.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say meekly.

“That’s okay,” he promises you. “My brother Reggie used to get panic attacks too, when he was younger. I have a bit of practice with them.”

Sirius doesn’t think it matters how much practice he gets; he’ll always be shit at comforting people, but at least he knows enough to guess what you’ll need now.

You look at him interestedly. “Really?”

“Mhm,” he says. “Are you tired? We can go back to my place and watch a film. Or if you just want to go to bed I can take you home.”

“Your place is good,” you say, letting him take your hand to help you up. Your legs wobble a bit underneath you, and Sirius wraps a hand around your waist, holding you to his side as you start back towards the sidewalk.

“This okay?” he asks, watching you carefully.

“Yeah,” you say softly. Your hand worms underneath his arm, sliding around his back in turn. “Yeah, this is good.”

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a-spes · 4 months ago

Text

So, for today, you get some fluffly and comforting imagine. It is about Natasha helping reader to cut her hair. It is just a sweet moment between the two so I hope you will enjoy it <3

! Warning — mentions of past physical abuse.

"Are you sure you want to do it?" she asks for the second time.

If she seems to hesitate, you do not. You silently nod, giving the woman the sign that she can start cutting, and she sighs. It is not that she doesn't want to do it — it is not her decision to make anyway — but she is concerned. You have that look on your face, one that screams—: "I am not feeling well and I would do anything to get a bit relief, even if I might regret it later."

She is happy to be here for you, she wants to support you, but she is not sure of what is happening because you won't talk, and it worries her. When she entered the room, you simply gave her the scissors with that order of cutting your hair. You haven't even looked at her once and, everytime she tries to meet your eyes in the mirror, you look away. You do not want the woman to see the sadness they are holding because you do not want her to guess what is happening.

You know that she will be aware of everything the second she sees your eyes. She is a spy, she is good at reading people, to guess their secrets without them having to talk. You can tell, by the way she is hesitating that she already has an idea of what might be on your mind right now. Anger, sadness, pain. She saw it in your puffy eyes, and your pursed lips.

"Yes," you say when she doesn't move, "do it. Now," and your demand sounds almost as an order, your tone being firm. You need her to do it now because you can't stand the way your hair are caressing your shoulders any more.

Some people say that hair hold memories, and you need a fresh start.

Today, during your mission, some agent pulled you by the hair. He grabbed your pony tail to hold you back. You usually do not wear a pony tail, your hair always tied into a bun to prevent that kind of thing to happen during a fight. Yet, today you did not, because you were just supposed to pcik up some files with your team.

He thought that he was better than you are, than he knew best, and he could not stand that a woman might be smarter than he is. So, when you walked past him, he did not find a better thing to do than to grab your hair to hold you back because he was too stupid to deal with his anger as grown adult.

Your dad used to do the same. That is the problem, all these memories that came back to your mind when you felt his grip. Your dad used to do the same whenever he was angry at you for whatever reason. He would drag you to your room, and lock you there. He would throw you on the ground, just so he could hit you. He held you the same way the day he threw you out of the house.

Since you came back from the mission, you could not shake the memory of your mind out of your mind. You just realized how much your past have been hauting you despite how much you are pretending to be fine.

You have found yourself with the urge of getting rid of your hair, just to make sure that no one could ever grab you that way again. Yet, you were unable to do it on your own. You have been standing in front of the bathroom's mirror for half an hour with those stupid scissors in your hand, and you still haven't made a move when the woman entered the room.

You didn't let her a chance to ask question, and you immediately gave her the scissors with the silent demand that she cuts your hair. You want it to be done, but it felt like a step that was a bit too big to be taken alone.

When the moment eventually came, you closed your eyes. You do not want to watch while she is doing it because you might regret it, and that is the last thing you want. At first, you can feel her fingers running throught your hair, and then your heard it, the sound of the scissors cutting throught it. A few minutes later, your head felt a lot lighter than it used to be, strands of your hair now covering the ground.

"I am all done, milaya," she whispers, pressing soft kisses on your temple to encourage you to open your eyes. "Are you okay?" she asks, and you both laugh when your eyes meet in the mirror because your new hair cut is definitely hideous, and your tips uneven, but you have never felt so well in your life.

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tenswrld · 1 year ago

Text

true romance

popstar!haechan x upcomingartist!reader, angst, fluff

summary: haechan's the world's boyfriend — and yours too, i guess.

word count: 4.1k

listen to: true romance - pinkpantheress

a/n: first, sorry that its been so long...im trying to be better about writing but inspiration comes and goes,,i hope you will indulge in whatever this is!!! everytime i hear this song my mind goes to haechan for some reason sooo yeah >_< i have lots of drafts its just a matter of when or if i finish them LOL love yall tho & enjoy

•°. *࿐

tell me, do you view me the same or do you call me a stranger?

"leave a bit after me so no one sees."

haechan is popular — without a doubt one of the most popular artists of your time. everyone either wants to be him or be with him, to which you completely understand. everything about him screams someone who was born to be on a stage, stealing hearts and whatnot. with such a bright personality, it was almost impossible to not like him.

you've had the privilege of getting to watch haechan grow from singing songs he wrote in his bedroom on youtube to him performing them in sold out shows. you're a fan, of course, but somewhere along the way — with crazy luck — you've wiggled your way into his life and into his heart. the two of you were music artists wishing on every star for some kind of breakthrough to the industry (take a guess on who got it). naturally, it brought you together. you were there when haechan reached 5,000 subscribers, and you were still there when he was selling out shows to 50,000 people. you've stuck by his side for so long that you're sure that its where you fit best.

in the moment, however, you're not so sure anymore.

"leave a bit after me so no one sees."

the small smile on your face slowly disappears at haechan's words and hurt quickly settles into your chest. "...why? what would be so bad about that?"

haechan seems unable to grasp how upset you are at his words. he shakes his head with a small laugh. "it's not like that, y/n. but a scandal at this time wouldn't be good."

"a scandal?" you scoff slightly. "since when have you ever cared about that?"

he sighs and runs a hand through his hair that's still slightly wet from his post-performance sweat. "i just don't want to take any risks right now. especially since my album is coming out soon. you understand, right?"

"i fly all the way out here to see you, and you don't want to be seen with me?" you say with a trembling lip and a weak voice. you're hurt and you're angry, but can't seem to keep your tears at bay.

"i didn't say that."

"you might as well have," you spit back at him.

"let's talk about this later, okay? trust me, it would be a lot worse for you than it would for me." haechan picks up his bag and swings it over his shoulder, making his way towards the backstage exit door.

frozen in place overwhelmed with emotion, you watch your boyfriend open the door. you think he's had a change of heart when he pauses at the door and turns back to you, but somehow he's managed to hurt you even more.

"maybe you should take these too," he says, placing the bouquet you made him back into your hold. the smell of roses and sunflowers taking over your senses as more tears well up in your eyes. you hope the flowers hide them from haechan's gaze. though, you're not so sure he'd notice anyway, as he'd already let the door close and left you behind.

•°. *࿐

'cause, baby, i don't care about the fame

people talk. as an upcoming music artist, you're aware that people talk. as the (hidden) girlfriend of a global superstar, you're more than aware that people love to talk about anything and everything that doesn't concern them.

you and haechan aren't on the same level of fame — not that it matters to you. it never mattered to you, really. even as haechan grew and grew and you remained with your significantly smaller (but still decent) following, fame was never your strongest desire.

yet, now, you're wondering that maybe if you were just a bit more famous, more popular, more well known, then you wouldn't feel as far away from haechan as you do right now. even as he sits beside you on the king bed of the luxury suite he booked for this stop of his tour, you feel further away from him then ever.

"i mean, what would people say about us, y/n? about you?"

"you keep saying that, hyuck, but you're not explaining it to me," you say, growing frustrated with him. "why is it just about me?"

he purses his lips before averting his gaze to the floor. "they'll say nasty stuff about you — that you're using me for fame, or money, or something like that."

you shake your head. "but you and i both know that's not true. we've been together for how many years now? their words shouldn't matter." you take hold of his hand and rub your thumb against his knuckles. "you could have nothing and i'd still be here."

"people don't know that," he scoffs. "they'll assume the worst about you."

maybe he's right — you're sure they will assume the worst about you regardless of your long, deep history with haechan. would he start to believe them? you think it, but you don’t ask — too afraid of the answer you might receive.

"what are you so afraid of?" you ask him softly, begging him with your mind for him to look at you.

but he doesn't, his eyes stayed trained on the ground and he can only weakly squeeze your hand that holds onto his own.

"i don't know."

•°. *࿐

tell me, why i don't play about you

every song is about you

haechan finally has a short break in between the legs of his tour and he chooses to spend every waking moment of it with you.

things between the two of you have felt rocky for a while. it makes haechan ashamed to say it, but he's been so focused on tour and his new album that he's pushed everything else to the side. he's a perfectionist and he feels like he's barely made it — he wants everything to work out perfectly and is committed to making sure that happens. he's not sure how long he's been brushing off anything non-career related, but he misses you — even if you're with him.

he flys the two of you out to a small, quaint place in kyoto where he finally gets to enjoy some peace and quiet in his life. he chooses to turn off his phone, not too keen with the idea of his manager berating him about all his responsibilities he'll have to tend to when he gets back. he's on vacation and he's here with you: the one person who's been with him through every up and down.

you're laying in his arms and haechan misses you to the point where it hurts — when was the last time he laid with you like this? the revelation urges him to pull you closer, placing a soft kiss to the crown of your head as you lay on his chest. he sighs into your hair, breathing all of you in. it's silent, for the most part, until you ask a question that rattles haechan's being.

"why do you not sing about me?" you ask it so softly that haechan almost misses it.

"what? what are you talking about?" he's genuinely confused as to what you mean. who do you think he sings about?

"i know a handful of your old old songs are about me, but you don't perform those anymore," you murmur into his chest. "ah, don't mind me, i'm just talking."

you sound embarrassed and defeated and haechan wants to cry. did you really not know? how long has he been pushing you away?

"y/n, every single song i write is about you," haechan professes. "i couldn't write about anyone else if i tried."

his words shock you, even if they shouldn't. you tilt your head up to look up at him and he looks down at you with the softest gaze.

"not that i ever would, anyway," he continues, a sad smile painting his face.

"you mean it?" you whisper to him, wanting so badly to believe him.

when haechan's resolve breaks and his eyes glaze over, you know he means it. his hold on you tightens with one hand and the other comes up to caress your cheek, swiping a tear you didn't even know had fallen.

"of course," he croaks. "you're my muse, y/n. you."

this time, you're wiping his tears away as he cries and cries into your palms. you shift the two of you so that he lies in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face buried into your torso, your hands running through his hair. he's apologizing over and over and doesn't say why, but you know why. you regret ever doubting haechan's love for you — even if he was to blame.

but, just as you're certain you love him more than anything, you know that haechan loves you back all the same.

"it's always been you, y/n."

•°. *࿐

and everybody’s shouting out your name

“you look too handsome to be pouting like that, you know,” you tease lightly, approaching haechan to adjust his tie fondly.

he can’t help but smile at you as you do so, his hands easily finding their place around your waist, tugging you close. “if you tell me to stay, i will.”

you sigh and place your hands upon his chest, allowing you to push yourself up to place a soft kiss on his lips. his lips trail after yours once you pull away and he pouts at you again, eyes begging for another kiss but you push him back ever so slightly.

“you can’t miss this, hyuck, you know that. this could be really big for you!” you beam, swiping a bit of your lip gloss off of his lips. “some important people might be there.”

“but you won’t be there,” he whines. “what’s the point?”

you roll your eyes playfully. “you’ll be fine. now go, your manager has been waiting.” haechan sighs and leans down to place one more kiss on your lips.

you pull away before he can get carried away. “go! and put a good word in for me with taeyong, yeah?”

haechan rolls his eyes but smiles at you, pecking you on the cheek as he bids you farewell. “no promises.”

ੈ♡˳

it’s barely been over an hour and haechan wants to leave.

normally he’s able to tolerate these sorts of things — the bright lights, loud music, snobby people all trying to one up each other. he can get by and chat with anyone as if he’s known them for years. typically, events like these breeze by for haechan. why was he hating every second of it?

it’s lee taeyong’s end of year celebration party. of course, as his junior, haechan was invited. he’s grateful that he’s made friends with lots of other artists under his company, otherwise haechan would have been long gone within the first 45 minutes of arriving. but, haechan stays, mostly because he admires taeyong and does, in fact, bring up you and your songs — which, to his surprise, taeyong says he knows you and enjoys your music.

haechan isn’t given the chance to talk more, unfortunately, due to an excited kim jungwoo who locks an arm around haechan’s shoulder and drags him away.

“ow — hyung! i was in the middle of a conversation!” haechan grits to jungwoo, lightly shoving his arm off of him.

“my bad, it looked like you needed saving,” jungwoo chuckles. “come on, everyone’s been looking for you.”

jungwoo leads haechan to a small circle of people to which haechan knows as his small circle of friends: mark, his company's beloved canadian rapper; johnny suh, one of seoul's most popular djs; and of course there's kim jungwoo, kim doyoung, and jeong jaehyun who make up dojaejung, korea's heartthrob boy group.

"yo, where have you been?" mark greets him excitedly, lightly slapping him on the shoulder playfully.

"what do you mean 'where have i been', i saw you yesterday, mark," haechan grumbles.

"woah, someone needs a drink," johnny chuckles. doyoung is quick to hand haechan a glass of champagne.

haechan takes a large gulp, hopefully to ease whatever tension he feels in his shoulders. he's trying to enjoy the party, he really is, but all he wants to do is come home to you.

"everything okay?" doyoung asks him, concerned with the way haechan seems to be downing his drink.

the younger boy sighs. "yeah, i'm fine, sorry. just stressed out."

"oh, your album is coming out soon, right?" jungwoo remembers, nudging haechan with his elbow. "congratulations!"

the rest of the boys congratulate him and haechan can only half-heartedly reply despite being very grateful.

"i'm sure it'll be great," johnny reassures him.

"saw a lot of love songs on that track list," jungwoo teases. "got a special someone?"

haechan stills at his words and he's caught in an argument with himself. does he mention you? does he say no? is this how he wants people to find out you’re together? before he can even reply, though, jaehyun cuts in.

"speaking of, i heard that kim minjeong has had her eye on you for a while, haechan," jaehyun says. he raises his eyebrows at the younger boy and haechan gulps, the rest of his friends nudging him playfully as they coo at him.

"that's the model, right? and singer?" doyoung asks. "you should talk to her!"

haechan feels like he's going to be sick. maybe he's being dramatic — its not like they're shoving him into minjeong's face and asking him to profess his love. still, he feels like he's betraying you in some way and he realizes he has to go home.

"i can talk you up, probably," mark says. "we're normally at the studio at the same time."

“i heard that shin ryujin has been talking about you, too,” johnny pipes in. “honestly, who hasn’t been talking about you? i’m surprised you’ve done nothing about it.”

doyoung hums. “she seems like your type, donghyuck! i know some people over at —“

"no! no, don't — " haechan places his champagne glass onto a nearby table abruptly and sighs shakily. "just...don't. sorry, i-i don't feel well. i should go."

confused and concerned eyes watch haechan as he rushes towards the nearest exit. he doesn't bother saying goodbye to taeyong, but makes a mental note to send him an apologetic note tomorrow. haechan sees kim minjeong catch sight of him, and he's sure she's about to make an attempt to stop him to chat with the way she looks at him with a flirty gaze. haechan is quick to turn in the opposite direction and flees out of the nearest door.

haechan's manager comes out soon behind him, frenzied after trying to catch up to a frantic haechan. he doesn't get the chance to ask the latter if he's okay, too occupied with calling their driver upon haechan's request.

"home," he chokes out. he's out of breath and he feels dizzy — whether its from the champagne or from guilt, he's unsure.

"i want to go home."

•°. *࿐

i'm in the crowd, can you see my hand?

haechan has reached the encore of his final show of his tour, yet he still feels a pressure that he cannot explain.

its not from all of his seniors and friends that attended in support of him, he knows that. it's not from the different producers and music artists that flew to seoul for him, either. its a pressure that weighs on his chest that has made him feel unsatisfied with each stage, despite putting 150% effort in everything.

the crowd is going crazy for him after he delivers his final ment, and he takes a moment to soak in it all, in hopes it would give him some peace of mind.

then, his eyes finally spot you.

you, in the back row of some random section, sitting with your manager, with a banner with his name on it and a headband with bear ears perched on top of your head. he doesn't know if you can tell that he's staring right at you, but you start waving around the banner with excitement. haechan can't help but adore you even more than he already does.

time stops for him as he realizes that you're here. through thick and thin you've always been there — what has haechan ever done for you? he hasn't given you even a sliver of what you deserve, yet you've never left him. you stayed when he was a nobody, and even now when he's been terribly selfish, you let him be.

there are thousands of other hands waving at him, but haechan can only see yours.

"actually," haechan starts, quickly silencing the crowd. "there's one more thing i wanted to say."

from your seat, you feel your heartbeat quicken. haechan is still standing and looking into your direction and you know he sees you.

"there's someone very special to me that's here tonight."

your heart stops as you realize what he's doing and you can't help but glance at your manager in a panic. fans around you are murmuring in confusion since haechan had already given a shoutout to his guests.

"they've been by my side since i was writing silly love songs in my childhood bedroom," haechan says, a fond smile taking over his features. "i wrote those love songs about them then, and i still write every love song about them now."

the gasps and shocked noises at his confession fall upon deaf ears — to you, you and haechan are the only two people in the world.

"some of you may know her — she's an amazing music artist as well. far better than me, in my opinion, but maybe i'm a bit biased." haechan sees you laugh and can't help but chuckle too.

"my girlfriend, y/n, is here tonight, and i couldn't be more grateful. wave, y/n!" haechan calls out to you. surprisingly, the camera cuts to you as you wave shyly, hiding behind your haechan banner. even more surprising, the crowd cheers loudly for you.

"isn't she cute?" haechan asks. he's delighted when he sees and hears the rest of the stadium agree.

haechan finally feels that weight lift from off of his chest and he feels like he can breathe. he's happy — ecstatic, even — now that the world finally knows he's yours.

"y/n, you once asked me what i was afraid of, and i said i didn't know," haechan recalls gently. "but i know now." he purses his lips to prevent himself from choking up.

"you've always been so supportive of everything i've done. you've done so much for me and i'm not sure how i could ever repay you." haechan sucks in a sharp breath. "i'm afraid that i'll never truly deserve you."

the crowd coos and some fans in front of you turn around to look at you. you're a mess: tears are streaming down your face, and your hands are shaking. you hide pathetically behind your banner again as your manager wraps a comforting arm around your shoulder.

"i'm sorry for making you wait." haechan puts a hand over his heart, and you do the same. "i love you."

the camera cuts to you again and haechan glances at the monitor to get a better look at you as you mouth something back. haechan doesn't even attempt to conceal his smile or to hold back his tears. there's no use.

"i love you, too."

•°. *࿐

say what you want, this is true romance

“did you really have to mention that, hyuck?”

your boyfriend settles next to you on the couch, arm draping over your shoulder, as you scroll through his recent interview with vogue korea.

you pout at him and he's unable to stop the smile that takes over his face. he pinches your cheek and you quickly swat his hand away.

"what? what did i say?" he rests his chin on your shoulder to read the article for himself.

"i mean, does the public really have to know about me crying on our first date?" you complained. you continued scrolling and laughed as you read. "in what context would you ever have to tell vogue about our matching crayon shin-chan pajama pants?"

haechan laughs and presses a kiss to your shoulder. "honestly, i don't remember half of what i said during this interview. or any of what they asked me." he tugs you a little closer to him so that you're leaning against him, laying the two of you down. "all i know is that i'm pretty sure i started talking about you so much that they just called it a day."

"you're that obsessed with me, huh?" you teased.

haechan scoffs, wrapping both of his arms around you tightly. "obviously."

he watches you open instagram and sees you check the likes on your new post. he gasps dramatically, loosening one arm around you to snatch his phone from his pocket. "you posted?! where was my post notification?" he whines cutely.

he's a little too quick to find your account and he then quadruple clicks the picture to give it a like. "babe, why are your comments off? i was about to get really out of pocket," haechan whines again.

"okay, first, don't do that, please. save some of your dignity," you scold him. "but its because people are mean," you admit softly.

haechan's eyebrows furrow together and his tone stiffens. "who? what did they say?"

you sigh. "no one specific, don't worry. some people are just not too keen about us. your predictions were right, i guess," you attempt to joke, but it only makes haechan upset.

"here, come here," haechan beckons you up with him as he sits up. you're still under one of his arms, which he locks around your neck as he tugs you into his side. you're caught off guard, but lean into him anyway, arms wrapped around his torso. haechan lifts his phone up and takes selfies of the two of you, cheeks pressed together as you both smile uncontrollably.

you're both giggling like two high schoolers fresh into a relationship and you've never felt more happy and in love in your life. haechan presses wet kisses against your cheek before you eventually push his face away. still, he steals one more kiss from you — this time on your lips — and you let him.

"okay, i'm posting all of these," haechan declares casually, leaning back against the couch.

your eyes widen and you reach for his phone in an attempt to stop him, but haechan has already dodged you and raised his hand up. "hyuck, don't."

"why not? i'm in love with you, people just have to deal with it," he shrugs. "anyone who has a problem with us can get blocked."

you fall onto haechan's chest and he gladly wraps you up in his arms again. "you're stupid, but i love you."

"good, because i just posted it."

you peer up at haechan's phone and you see that he was true to his word. all of the selfies you just took piled into one singular post to which haechan captioned 'my heart'. you watch as he scrolls through the comments and blocks anyone with anything bad to say.

"wow, you weren't kidding," you say, amused.

"'course not. these people need to learn true romance." he leans down to kiss you one more time, this time letting the kiss linger. he pulls away but rests his forehead against yours, staring at you with eyes full of love. "i love you, too, by the way."

ੈ♡˳

haechan is popular — without a doubt, he's one of the most sought after guys in the industry. he's confident, charismatic, and he's bright. he's everyone's dream guy, it's no secret.

but, above all, he's yours, and you're his as well. he has devoted his heart and life to you and its not a secret to anyone anymore.

this time around, haechan wraps you up in his scarf to protect you from the cold before the two of you leave.

"i already have a scarf on, hyuck, just keep yours," you mumble from underneath the thick fabric.

haechan doesn't hear you (not just because he literally can't) because he's too focused on zipping up your jacket and tugging your beanie over your ears.

"okay," he says as he intertwines a hand in yours. he clutches the bouquet you made for him proudly in his other arm while he carries your bag and his own over his shoulder. "let's go home!"

its bittersweet as you realize how familiar yet different the situation is. you clutch haechan's hand tighter as he tugs you towards the backstage exit door, outside where the press and his fans are waiting.

he doesn't hide you anymore. no, instead haechan shows you off proudly and wholeheartedly as if it was what he was meant to do.

#bitch im back #nct 127 #nct dream #nct #nct fluff #nct angst #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck #lee haechan #donghyuck x reader #haechan fluff #haechan angst #donghyuck fluff #donghyuck angst #haechan oneshots #nct haechan

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its-all-stardust · 8 months ago

Text

Sugar || 8

Masterlist || Part Seven || Part Nine

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 4.6k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

“What’s that look for?” Steven asks when he walks into your apartment.

You greet him with a grin, almost bouncing on the balls of your feet. You couldn’t wait for him to get here.

Your hands are on his chest, his on your waist, and you’re leaning into him before the door is even closed. “How do you feel about getting dressed up and being my date in two weeks?”

Steven seems to catch on to your excitement, realizing something is up. “This isn’t a regular date, is it?”

You shake your head. “Charity auction. I just got word today that I have an opening for my plus one, and I want you to come with me.”

He frowns, his hands twitching against you. “You had another date?”

“Just Dan. He had to cancel. He’s having a surprise party for his son that day.”

Somehow, Steven’s frown manages to deepen. “Who’s Dan?”

You feel him start to pull away, but you slide your hands up and lock them behind his neck, preventing his escape. There’s an elated tingling in your chest, and you soften your expression.

“Dan is my CFO. He always goes with me to these things to handle all the schmoozing because I don’t like talking to people.” Steven’s shoulders relax under your arms, the lines easing from his face. You press a reassuring kiss on his cheek. “Is that an acceptable answer?” you tease.

Steven sputters, though his hands are pressed more firmly against your waist, pulling you closer.

“If you wanted to be with other men, who am I to stop you?” he says. Though you can hear the relief in his voice, you also detect a lingering nervousness.

Your lips move to his jaw. “Too bad I don’t want to be with other men.”

Steven’s breath hitches. “No?”

You shake your head, inadvertently yet wonderfully nuzzling into him. “I only want you.”

A bold statement to say to a baby, but that’s how you’ve been lately. It started before your vacation just two short weeks ago, but it’s grown since then, and so far, you haven’t had reason to stop.

You only want Steven, which may be more than a little dangerous for you. You have sugar babies because they’re not like traditional relationships. They’re easier for a number of reasons, and generally, you don’t develop…certain feelings for your babies. They dutifully fulfill their role as companions, and you’ve always been fine with that.

But Steven has become more than just another baby to you. If you’re not careful, you could end up hurt.

“Oh,” Steven breathes, apparently all he can say. He’s practically vibrating against you, though, telling you all you need to know about how your words affected him.

Then, he says, “Good,” and kisses you. Steven is holding onto you like he can’t bear to let you go, and you return the intensity in kind. Your hands are in his hair, nails scraping along his skin.

He nips at your lips, drawing a gasp from you.

He’s been getting bolder, too.

When you finally part, Steven’s pupils are blown wide, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so… possessive.

“I should make you jealous more often,” you tease, trying to hide your elation that Steven seems to only want you, too. You’re not the best at reading people, but unlike some, Steven has never tried to hide how he’s feeling.

“No,” Steven says softly before burying his face in your neck, his hands roaming along your back. “I don’t want to hear about you with other people.”

Your heart is beating so fast; it’s a wonder it’s still in your chest.

Maybe, with Steven...

You didn’t pick this dress for Steven. That’s what you tell yourself anyway. You liked it because the fabric isn’t itchy, and the fit isn’t too tight. Nor did you pick it because you know it gets you lingering stares.

No, you chose it because you thought it was pretty. That was all.

The lie only worked until Steven saw you coming down the stairs.

His eyes are wide, his mouth hanging open. You saw him nervously playing with the cuffs of his jacket, endlessly twitching, until he spotted you.

The dress isn’t flashy—this is a classy fundraising event, after all, not a film premiere—but it exudes a quiet power.

It’s floor-length and midnight blue, with a shallow v-cut neckline that provides only a hint of cleavage. The sleeves are long, trailing a mere inch above the hem of the skirt, your heels saving them from touching the floor, and split just above the elbow for ease of use of your arms.

The finishing touches are the silver jeweled appliques on your shoulders in the shape of starbursts. They square out your shoulders, giving the illusion of perfect posture and fierce demeanor.

Not wanting to do the work yourself, you visited a salon earlier in the day to get your hair and makeup done. Steven saw that before the completed look, and even then, he was stunned by you. Your hair is pulled into an elegant bun to show off your neck, not a single strand out of place. Even the pins are carefully hidden, making your hair appear magically held in place. Your makeup isn’t heavy except for your eyes. Dark lashes and liner pulled into sharp angles, softened only by silver shadow across the lid. A deep wine-red lipstick completes the look.

Your only accessories are silver earrings to match the appliques and a clutch made to perfectly match the fabric of your dress. That way, you can carry it as your side without drawing the eye too low.

The only flaw with the whole ensemble is that you can’t wear the bracelet Steven gifted you. The gold makes it clash with the silver on the dress. You probably wear the bracelet too much, anyway; pearls are too soft to be worn every day, but you can’t bear to part with it. It was a struggle not to pick another dress entirely to match the bracelet or even take the dress in to have the appliques replaced with gold versions.

You’re afraid that would have been too much, though, and decided against it.

Even without the bracelet, Steven is still in awe of you, and that’s all that matters.

“I think I forgot how to breathe,” he says when you reach him.

Heat builds in your face as you say, “I could say the same about you.” You can’t help but reach out and smooth a hand across his right shoulder and down his chest.

Steven’s suit is black with the bowtie, of course, custom-made to match your dress. It is, admittedly, a little uninspired in terms of men’s fashion, but the norm for events like this. But even still, the suit is cut to Steven’s body perfectly, showing off his figure in the way only fine tailoring can do. His look is complete with artfully slicked-back hair, a style typically reserved for special occasions, leaving him looking a little less like your Steven. The Steven you’re used to.

After your many dates, you already know he cleans up nicely, but it’s still a sight to see every time.

“Only the best for you, love,” Steven says with a simple, offering his arm.

Though any event attended by the wealthy is used as an informal business opportunity, they are also for showing off. The nouveau riche tends to do so by wearing fancy clothes and jewelry. They make a show of how much money they have, bragging about mansions and vacation homes in foreign countries.

Old money falls into quieter luxury. The things they show off aren’t objects but rather something intangible. They talk of things such as new business dealings or proudly state that a spouse or child has a new position within a corporation or even the government, displaying not just their wealth but their power.

You, though, do neither of those things, not now that you have others to do the talking for you. Now that Dan isn’t here, you don’t have to listen to yet another round of your accomplishments being listed to potentially interested parties who could be convinced to invest or point your company toward more lucrative dealings.

You already did your time playing the rich man’s game at previous functions over the years, learning and avoiding all the faux pas typically done by those who haven’t learned to act like they were born to this. Some of the others forget your money is just as new as the overly flashy crowd. You know how to blend in; you’ve had to do it all your life. Things aren’t much different now, even though the crowd has changed.

And even though you tend to dislike these functions for the most part, you still have your own showing off that you want to do. There’s a reason you can fit in around here, after all.

You want everyone to see Steven on your arm.

Some, if not all, of your peers may suspect what he is to you. You don’t care, and chances are they won’t either. Some of them will likely have their own sugar babies in attendance with them. But you want to show them that none compare to your Steven.

None of them are as free or as open as he is. He doesn’t have to pretend to be air-headed to keep your interest, and as handsome as you think he is, he’s more than just a pretty face who fawns all over you.

You don’t plan on staying for long. A brief appearance usually appeases the more judgmental crowd. You’re not so renowned that you can decline all invitations with a small six-figure apology for your absence. It isn’t so bad, though. You do like dressing up on occasion, and it’s the perfect excuse to get Steve dressed up, too. You’re always looking for an excuse to make him into a model for your personal photoshoots, pictures tucked away in a folder on your phone.

After a flute or two of champagne, a respectable bid on something that isn’t terribly ugly, and enough people seeing—and admiring—Steven at your side, you’ll head home. The night will end at your apartment with your baby wrapped around you and a healthy transfer into Steven’s account for the pleasure of his company.

Ever since you and Steven returned from Germany, he’s been sleeping in your room with you whenever he stays the night. His bed has practically been untouched for the last couple of weeks; his own apartment even less so. These days, his room is just extra storage space for Steven to toss his clothes onto, and you couldn’t be happier. You’ve come to look forward to your new nighttime routine.

“So, do you get a paddle? Will there be a man talking so fast you can barely understand him?” Steven asks as the two of you enter the venue—a gorgeous art gallery, the host of the event.

“As fun as that would be, I’m afraid this is a silent auction,” you sigh. “You’ll only see this crowd at an auction like that if the lots are full of less-than-legal items.”

“What, really?” Steven asks in disbelief. “Aren’t those for, I dunno, shady people?”

“Oh, Steven,” you say indulgently. “These will be some of the shadiest people you’ll ever meet.”

Glass in one hand, Steven’s arm in the other—with him dutifully holding your clutch—you make your way through the gallery. Many of the pieces up for auction are paintings. They’re usually donated by some of the night’s guests looking to redecorate their homes. This way, they can get rid of the old paintings and find something unique for their newly refreshed foyer, all the while pretending they did it in the name of a good cause.

A few sculptures are scattered about, but those are usually never quite as popular. You also spot different memorabilia, either for some sport or another, or even items from a particularly beloved movie or actor.

Tonight’s selection also contains vintage handbags and jewelry. You’re sure there are other items about, but you’ve always had particular tastes and have rarely found items at an auction that you’re genuinely interested in. You only look because it’s expected of you.

A call of your name makes you pause, searching for the source.

Coming toward you is Daphne, a wealthy widow in her fifties. Like you, she doesn’t have the pedigree of some of the others, having “married up” after meeting her husband. Because of that, she’s never been as uptight as some of the other people you’ve interacted with, and as a result, you’ve always liked her.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, giving her a quick hug, mindful of your glass and hers. “It’s been ages.”

“You’ll need to squeeze me into your busy schedule for dinner some evening,” she teases. When she pulls away from you, she turns to Steven and says, “This isn’t Dan.” She looks him up and down, a knowing smile on her face.

“I’m Steven,” he quickly says, tensing beside you, apparently still a little jealous about your coworker.

“My date,” you provide without needing to as Daphne and Steven shake hands.

“Is he good?” Daphne asks you after introducing herself. She can guess that Steven is your sugar baby. She knows that’s your usual relationship, and she often has one of her own. She’s one of the few people you’re comfortable talking about babies with.

You glance over at Steven as if evaluating him. His nervous twitching has returned, and you’re unsure of the exact cause. A frown threatens to pull down the corners of your mouth, but you don’t let it succeed.

“He’s good,” you tell Daphne, giving Steven’s arm a reassuring squeeze. His cheeks darken.

He’s still responsive and isn’t blocking things out, a good sign that he’s not about to shut down.

“Where did she find you? I’ve been looking for a new man,” Daphne says, turning back to Steven. She always treats babies like people, unlike some who treat them like shadows, inconsequential, and best left seen and not heard.

“At the National Art Gallery,” Steven replies, a little strained, unsure what he’s allowed to say. “I work there and she was enjoying the exhibits.”

Daphne’s eyebrows raise slightly. She was likely expecting him to give a website. You usually prefer your babies to go through a screening process, so she knows picking up one at random—in person, off the street—is unusual for you.

“How serendipitous!” she exclaims with a genuine smile. Daphne then leans in toward Steven. “Now, tell me, Steven, how do you like your job?” she asks quietly with a pointed glance toward you.

Before you can say anything to try to reign Daphne in, Steven looks at you, his expression softening, the nerves falling away.

“It’s not really a job, though. Not to me. I just…like being around her.”

Your face starts to heat up as Daphne’s eyes flit back and forth between you, a knowing smile on her face.

“Good! Well, I won’t keep you,” she says, stepping back. “You two enjoy your evening. And I’ll be calling your assistant next week about dinner.”

After your goodbyes to Daphne, you and Steven continue walking around the gallery hall. You point out some rather dreadful pieces and make some talk with some of the other guests. As time goes on, you notice Steven steadily getting more quiet. You don’t think much of it. Putting on a show, even a minimal one, can be draining. His uneasiness has been following him all night, so you remind yourself not to stay longer than needed and keep moving.

“What do you think of this one?” you ask Steven, looking at the least ugly of the handbags. You’re still trying to find something to bid on that you could stomach the thought of taking home.

Before he can answer, the sound of shattering glass and a startled yelp fills the hall. Suddenly, Steven steps closer to you, his arm thrown protectively across your body as he searches for the source of the disturbance, his body tense.

“It’s alright,” you reassure, gently placing a hand on Steven’s arm. “Someone knocked into one of the servers.”

The tension leaves Steven, and his arm falls. You’re a little shocked. You’ve never seen him react like that before, though you haven’t exactly been in any situations where he would need to try to protect you.

“Sorry, I just….” He trails off, his voice sounding lower than usual. He shakes his head, confused. “I don’t know why I did that.”

You squeeze his arm. “Steven, are you alright?” you ask softly. “You’ve been a little off tonight.”

A slight frown forms on his face as he looks at you. “I’m fine. I promise,” he says, his voice mostly returning to normal. Then he gestures to the handbag you were evaluating. “You were thinking of this one, yeah?”

“I was,” you agree, looking Steven over. You don’t think you need to pull the plug on the evening quite yet, but something is going on with your baby. You chat about the bag for a moment, both of you pretending everything is fine.

As the night goes on, Steven starts becoming more and more withdrawn. You could have sworn you heard him mumbling to himself at one point, but when you asked him what he said, he claimed it was nothing. Though he was hesitant at the beginning of the night, he at least still made polite, though limited, conversation with the other guests you stopped and spoke with. Now, even you can barely get a word out of him.

“I think this will look lovely in your room,” you say to him as you come to a stop in front of an abstract painting that’s nothing more than splashes of various shades of a questionable yellow. You’re trying to get some reaction out of him, trying to gauge his feelings.

Steven doesn’t look as nervous as he did earlier in the night, but his brow still holds a slight furrow, and his posture, though perfect, is rigid. When you lean into him, he’s not as soft as he usually is. He doesn’t return the favor, leaning into you as he always does.

Steven doesn’t react at all to your suggestion of the hideous painting. It’s like he didn’t even hear you.

“Steven, look at me.”

He inhales as if preparing for something and finally turns to face you, though he doesn’t quite meet your eye. You take his chin and gently tilt his face toward you, making him look at you.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” Though you keep your voice soft, gentle, there’s no mistaking the order in the words. He stares at you, mesmerized or lost in thought—you have no idea.

“I don’t…feel like myself,” Steven finally says, his voice sounding…wrong. “Can we go?”

Your hand falls from his chin down to his chest. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me something was wrong?” Usually, if Steven wasn’t up for something, he would tell you immediately. This isn’t like him at all.

Steven takes a second to answer. “I didn’t want to ruin your night.”

Your gaze softens, and any irritation, however mild, leaves you. “You could never ruin my night,” you tell him, filling your words with admiration.

You quickly turn around, typing in a random amount on the tablet for the ugly yellow painting, placing your bid, and making your mark for the evening. Then, taking Steven’s hand, you start heading for the exit. “Let’s go.”

As you wait outside, you start mentally running through everything you have at home that might help Steven. If tonight just made him anxious, maybe even overstimulated, then you can have him change into something comfortable, dim the lights, and make everything nice and quiet. You can even brush out his slicked-back hair if he’ll let you touch him. Whatever he needs to makes him feel more like himself.

If he’s feeling sick, you’re sure you have something in the cupboards to help. If you don’t, you’ll just have someone deliver it.

“Can we go to my place?” Steven asks suddenly as your driver pulls the car up to the curb.

“What?” you say automatically, pulling from your thoughts and leaving you momentarily confused. “Are you sure?” To say that you aren’t a little hurt that he doesn’t want to be at your apartment would be a lie.

“Yes, please. I…need to be there,” Steven says, again, not looking at you.

You ignore the slight wound and focus on your baby’s needs instead. If he wants to be at his place, then that’s what you’ll do for him. After instructing your driver to go to Steven’s apartment, you take his hand again. It’s limp in yours, but he doesn’t pull away.

When the car stops in front of his building, Steven practically leaps out, pulling his hand from yours and leaving you behind.

You sit there, absolutely stunned and left unsure of what to do. Steven didn’t technically invite you up to his apartment, but neither did he bother to say goodbye.

Confused and more than a little hurt, you gather your clutch and sleeves and follow Steven out of the car, telling your driver to wait for you. You don’t exactly have a plan as you follow Steven into the building, narrowly catching the door before it closed and locked you out, but you hope to get some sort of answer from him.

Steven does a double-take when you slip into the elevator right behind him. Apparently, he wasn’t expecting you to follow. As the lift slowly grinds its way upwards, you and Steven are again silent, with him steadfastly avoiding eye contact.

Too stressed, too focused on Steven, you don’t process anything about the building itself. Any other day, you’d be thrilled to finally be allowed into Steven’s private space, but right now, you can’t think of anything other than what’s going on with your baby.

A dark part of you starts to whisper that it’s you. You did this to Steven and he wants out. But then a more rational part of your brain argues that he never would have looked at you the way he did just a few short hours ago if that were true. You’ve known Steven long enough to realize what a terrible liar he is. He couldn’t have faked his awe.

Whatever is happening, it’s something else. Something happened to him after you arrived at the gallery that caused him to act like this. You just need to know what so you can fix it.

The doors to the elevator open, on which floor, you have no clue, and Steven leads you off toward his apartment, no longer rushing to get away from you but notably keeping his distance.

Pulling his key from his pocket, Steven unlocks his door, allowing you into this part of his life for the first time. You had always wanted it to be under better circumstances.

The first thing you notice is the books. It’s not that you didn’t believe Steven when he told you how many he has, but hearing about it and seeing it are two very different things.

They are stacked everywhere. Shelves are overflowing, and neat piles are littering the entire apartment. There are even some spilling into the kitchen, gathered around the shelves that serve not only to separate the space from the rest of the flat but also host the tank for Steven’s pet goldfish, Gus. Before you can take in much else, Steven is moving away from you, taking off his jacket and hanging it on the back of one of the chairs at the kitchen table.

Then he grips the back of the chair, the jacket bunching under his fingers. When he still doesn’t say anything, you do what you always do: take care of him.

Spotting a kettle on the stove, you make your way toward it, glazing at the wall immediately to the right of the door, taking note of the map and various postcards.

From his mom.

You suppose it’s something since, as far as you’re aware, she’s yet to return any of Steven’s various calls. Steven even told you this apartment is technically hers, but you’ve wondered more than once if she’s ever returning to London.

Grabbing the kettle, you take it to the sink, fill it, and put it back on the stove before opening the cupboards and hunting for a mug. Thankfully, the teabags are on the counter, left in their original tin. Steven’s eyes follow your every move. Only once you set down a mug and patiently start waiting for the water to boil does he finally speak.

“What are you doing?”

“Making you tea. Sit.”

Steven takes a step toward you. “You don’t need to do that.”

“Yes, I do,” you say sternly, turning to face him. Steven pauses, a little taken aback. “Sit,” you repeat more gently and return to your task. He pulls out a chair, the legs scraping along the floor, and obediently sits.

As the kettle whistles, you take it off the heat and pour the water into the mug. The silence is overwhelming as the tea steeps.

“Is it me?” you ask after a couple of minutes. You keep your back to Steven as you move around the kitchen again, hunting for sugar. Even though you don’t believe it is you—not entirely, anyway—you need to know what it is. You need to be delicate and the best way is to ease into it.

Steven doesn’t answer you until you stand across the table from him and set the tea by his hands.

“No. It’s not… it’s not you.” He shakes his head. “You’re… you’re good.” He goes silent again. He doesn’t touch the tea.

You wait for a moment before moving around the table to stand at his side. Sucking in a breath, you’re about to speak but hesitate. Maybe you should let it go and let Steven work out whatever’s wrong in his own time. Ultimately, though, you continue.

“Is it something you don’t want to talk about, or is it something you don’t want to talk to me about?”

Steven’s posture stiffens even more as he keeps his gaze on his hands. After showing no signs of responding, you reach out, taking his chin and turning his face toward you for the second time tonight.

“Steven.” Nothing else. Just his name and the unspoken plea for him to give you some sort of answer.

His eyes search yours for a moment before he takes a steadying breath. “I can’t tell anyone,” he quietly admits. “I’m sorry.”

You nod. Some things are too hard to share. You won’t begrudge Steven that. “But you’ll be okay?” Steven nods, your hand still on his chin. Leaning down, you kiss his cheek. “I’ll be here to listen if you can tell someone someday.”

When you pull away, Steven’s face is redder than you’ve seen in months.

“O-okay,” he breathes, his voice a touch shaky.

You hate to do it, but you know you should leave. Whatever Steven’s going through, he’d rather do it alone. You have no right to intrude upon his personal life as much as you have tonight. You’ve done all you could and can’t blame him for not wanting to open up to you.

You’re just his sugar mommy, after all.

You step away from Steven without another word and take the agonizingly short yet still too-long walk to the door. Swinging it open, hand on the knob, you glance back, catching Steven’s eye before he quickly looks away. For a moment, he looked like a complete stranger staring back at you.

Shaking the thought from your head, you pull the door shut softly behind you.

#moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight fanfic #x reader #sugar series

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whalesforhands · 8 months ago

Text

what’s yours is mine (5/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

Oh. That’s bad. That’s really, really bad. You don’t need even Mama to tell you that, don’t need her to say anything more when all your nose can pick up on was the overwhelming stench of sour milk and rotting fruit.

Yet, you ask anyway. Just to confirm. Just to see, to test the waters. You know lying is bad, but you’re not exactly averse to actually doing it.

Maybe you just aren’t that good of a kid.

“Does that mean that it’s bad?”

She snaps out of it, eyes losing their glossed over fear and realization dawning on her face as she immediately slaps a hand over her mouth, a look of evident shock and restrained worry making you stare on.

You haven’t seen her so… Panicked. Not that you remember any moments that she had been, anyway.

(Do you not watch her enough?)

“Sorry… I’m sorry…” Her hand shifts up, trailing her face until she was holding her forehead and releasing the breath that she was holding, voice trembling on a note so deep-seated in terror that you just can’t ignore it. You see her shoulders slumping and her eyes darting towards the new carpet on the floor, to the creaky old table as her body shook with just that tiniest uncertainty all along— Before her pretty, shifty eyes finally landed on you.

You can hear a sigh of relief.

“I-It’s not bad at all. No. Not at all. It’s just what some people say.” It was like she was assuring the both of you with staggered sentences that struggled to complete themselves.

Like she was jumbling, voicing words together just as they form in her head. Like she was just saying whatever was racing through her head as you catch the glimmer of sweat on her skin.

You’re pretty sure it wasn’t that hot in here… You helped her adjust the heater just now.

“You shouldn’t listen to them. Never,” She has to steady her shaking words, steady her stumbling, clumsy way of speech as the tension in the space finally lifts when she scrunches her eyes close, able to breathe easy again as she whispers those words to you. “Never listen to anyone who speaks that way.”

You blink.

“Not even you, Mama?” A tilt of your head as you’ve long gotten off of your chair, Pokemon printed socks padding towards her until your fingers lightly tapping her lap as a way to signal that you wanted to get on.

You think she really needs a hug. It always helped when you were on the verge of tears yourself.

“No…” She finally lifts her head, her hands reaching down and patting your hair as your eyes follow the trembling pen she still clutched so desperately. “Not even me, darling.”

You can see her twitch, watch as that same pen she had been clasping onto all this time finally fall out of her hands and tumble onto the recently bought, recently cleaned— And much softer carpet.

You were waiting for that to happen.

So you chase after it, crouching down to be able to pick it up, before running back into her arms under her watchful gaze and crawling onto her lap the next.

“Thank you.” A kiss to your hair and a pat of your head as you wrap your arms around her waist, face falling into contentment at the feel of being able to bury your face into your Mama’s softness. You can feel the way her sweatshirt feels warm and fluffy against your cheek, a fuzziness in your chest making you yearn for more pats and to hear her soft voice lull you into a sweeter comfort.

Though, your curiosity never sates.

“So is it not nice to be an omega?” You’re not exactly careful, not exactly getting the memo that it wasn’t something you should pry too much on even after that reaction. “Mama, do you hate being one?”

You’re just a kid, after all.

“It’s fine to be one,” A stroke of your head as her tone finally returns to that soft, gentle coo that you liked hearing so much. Albeit just that tiniest bit shaky. “Omegas are rare. You won’t see many around.”

“So…” Your eyes blink up at her, a small bit of an excited smile playing on your face when you realise your Mama was— Is special. “You’re like finding a Gold Machinedramon in a pack of Digimon cards?”

Now she is the one blinking at you, eyebrows furrowing momentarily with brief, apparent confusion as her hand stopped stroking your hair.

“Yes… Exactly like that, sweetie.”

You knew it. Satoru showed off his to you recently, your eyes glimmering at the way he had held that precious card up to the shining sun as Suguru could only sigh in the background.

“But being an Omega isn’t all that good.” You can feel her lean a cheek against your head, tenderly hugging her arms around you tighter as she speaks. “And some people might… Only love someone else just because they are an Omega.” She clears her throat.

“Or an Alpha.”

“Mn…?” What does that even mean? How can you love someone simply based on just that? But to be fair, you’ve seen cartoon characters get married because they kissed a frog.

“You shouldn’t befriend people like that— Or let them love you, okay?”

Huh? You don’t exactly get it, but it does sound like she’s right.

You feel her chest vibrate with a chuckle. “You’ll know a lot more when you’re older.” You can feel her pinch your cheek as you pout. “You should be worrying about what you want to eat for dinner later.”

When you’re an adult, huh? You don’t really like being told that, not even by your pretty Mama. Yet her last sentence still tugs a little too hard on your thoughts, pulling you into a state of worry and reassurance.

Because Mama doesn’t need to be anything more than your Mama for you to love her.

“I’ll love you even if you’re not an Omega, Mama.” It’s real, and your promise to her as you take another breath in at her scent, still wafting with the remnant aftermath of soured milk, yet slowly calming into waves of the sweet honey you love.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Her fingers comb through your hair as you hum contentedly. Afternoons after school might become your second favourite part of the day after walking to school with Suguru in the morning.

“So which one should I be, Mama?” It’s your final, whispered question. You don’t know if she heard it, don’t know if it was even audible from how muffled you were as your face is pressed directly into her chest.

Her mindless, aimless petting of your head stops as you feel her lean back to be staring down at you. It’s hard to discern, hard to tell what emotion was in her eyes. Yet, it was evident, despite how small it was, or how insignificant it would be to another person.

Her eyes were definitely wet.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll love you no matter which one you end up being.”

(“Oh, and I want cheese hamburg for dinner today!”

A soft giggle.

“Alright.”)

You’re still stuck on it, though. Even as your eyes are narrowed at the ground and Suguru’s scarf is wrapped tight around your neck... All whilst you’re poking at the concrete walkway with a stick you picked up from the ground, as cold as it might be.

Ambiguity. Maybe you should make that your new enemy. Your sworn foe who you can vow to defeat in the final battle. It fits all the marks needed to be one too, right? A cool name, hard to spell… And the fact that you don’t quite like it for terrorizing you right now with the unfamiliar and the uncertain.

Even the cold spring air isn’t enough to make you forget. This season was ambiguous too, you think. The moments right after winter when the trees are still bare and there just wasn’t enough flowers blooming to call it spring just yet.

You can’t even call it winter either. There’s no snow, the air isn’t as cold, your breath can’t be seen— You don’t like ambiguity. Not one bit. So you hope that either Satoru or Suguru are already waiting at the—

“Gah, goddamn midget fuckin’ sized playgrou—“

That’s not a child. Or even anyone you recognize as a matter of fact. A stranger. A stranger had made his way into the playground that Satoru claimed nobody else was allowed into.

(Though to be fair, you did also trespass.)

He’s big. That’s probably the second thing you notice about him when your smaller feet are trotting up towards him. Maybe he’s too big for both your and the playground’s liking, that’s why his butt won’t fit comfortably on the seat.

You will speak for the things that don’t have the will to speak for themselves! That’s… What the magical girl said on that anime yesterday. You think.

“…it’s cause you’re too big, mister.” Mama would scold you for approaching a stranger like this. But you’re more intrigued by the fact someone had actually defied everything Satoru had told you about this sacred space, had dared to bully your beloved play area!

(With the power invested in you, you will…! Probably try to get him to stop kicking the slide with his dirty shoe.)

He broke all the rules. You’re sure most adults can read, right? Did he not see the big sign and really, really long letter of notice that you can’t quite read well yet?

Maybe he has trouble reading too. It is pretty hard.

You hope that’s not insulting to say, though. You’ll apologize later… But first you wanna know why this stranger’s all bruised and patched up with seemingly hundreds of bandaids as he grunts and scowls at inanimate playground infrastructure before locking his eyes onto you.

His hair is really dark.

“The hell? The fuck you doing in ‘ere—“

“You say a lot of bad words too.” You’re blinking up at him with a blank look as you continue, curiosity whirling through your head. Is this an adult too? “Your Mama would be sad if she heard you say that.”

Your eyes catch a glimpse of the small little tag on the leather bag so casually hanging off of his too big arm. You can’t exactly catch his name, but you recognize that it definitely… Probably was from this area? You’re not really sure. Nor have you walked anywhere past the playground, the market with your Mama… Or school.

But you do know that he looks pretty old. Mama did mention once that there’s a lot more older kids here than ones your age. He’s definitely one of those.

So… He’s an older kid that looks like an adult? How ambiguous, now that you think about it. An ambiguous ‘adult that’s not really an adult’ who looked like he doesn’t know how to react to you as his eyebrows furrow and his nose twitches, eyes glaring down at you before it suddenly clicks in his head at the way you had so fearlessly stepped inside.

“Tell ya what,” He doesn’t lean down, doesn’t squat to be at your height as he crosses the bruised skin of his slightly roughed up arms. He’s quite scary, if you think about it. “I won’t tell that Gojo kid you let me trespass if ya don’t tell anybody ‘bout me. Especially if you see some piss ugly punks who look like they got beaten up real bad ‘round here.”

You blink. Did you just get… Scammed? Is this really your fault? Were you at fault for not chasing him out? But to be fair he has a point. You don’t exactly know what Satoru would do if he did find out this very big man stepped more than ‘one of his dirty toes!’ into his playground.

And honestly? You don’t think neither you nor Suguru would be able to talk your stubborn friend out of demanding capital punishment for this stranger. You would definitely need more than the 13 cookies you watched him gobble up only a couple days ago.

Take the deal. It’s for the greater good, you think. Whatever that means. Heroes say it all the time, no?

“Okay.”

(You’re a hero now.)

And that’s how you ended up sitting on the swing seat next to him. Don’t get yourself wrong, he’s definitely scary, definitely looks like he could throw you around with one pinky finger.

And kind of reminds you of those delinquent characters you saw in the movie at Suguru’s house when his Papa had left it on accidentally.

Maybe you can ask if he’s a villain? Or if he’s a gangster. Would he have cool tattoos like in that movie? Maybe he’s got a metal bat stored away in that old bag of his.

“Mister, are you an Omega?” Yet, that’s all that you end of asking, all that passes your thoughts once more. The talk of these types of things within your home, within your school, on newspapers and on TV… It’s the best question that would best cure you of the knowledge itch.

Cause older kids like him should know more than you, right?

“This what kids talk ‘bout these days?” He sounds… So monotonously unfazed. “Don’tcha got better things to rattle on about?”

Honestly? You do. But your horoscope said that today was a day that you shouldn’t leave things unanswered, for they could bring about ‘unfortunate circuses’ or something like that.

So you ask anyway. You don’t know if you’ll really like a circus. Especially if it’s a bad one.

“No.” Your sandals kick up the sand below you, outsole making trenches on ground. “Don’t you have better things to do than get injured?”

Silence. A crow caws in the background as he narrows his eyes at you.

“Annoying brat, ain’t cha?” A huff out his nose as his words become as dry as the air, his head leaning back to look up at the darkening sky. Maybe it’s just you, but you also don’t like how the orange glow disappears all too quickly when you’re too wrapped up in your head to appreciate it.

At least it makes the shadow you casted on the ground longer and longer— Yet not quite as big compared to his.

“I’m an Alpha.”

Woahhhh. You don’t think you know any other Alphas past Geto-mama. Maybe that’s why he was so big. Geto-mama was definitely really tall. Though, you don’t think you’ve ever even seen an Alpha go to a playground for children.

“Is it fun?” It sure doesn’t look like it for him. You thought he’d be happy to be what was seemingly the strongest willed one. The one Mama talked about first.

(He could definitely find a Gold Machinedramon way faster than you, right?)

“Heh. Ain’t no way, kid.” The scar on his lip looks kind of cool, you think. He leans back, those scruffy bangs of his finally moving out of the way enough for you to be able to catch the shimmering green of his eyes.

He really did have a big shadow.

“Alphas are some of the biggest losers out there.” The way he speaks has too much spite, as if he sounded defeated as you watch his hand pat his thigh as if in search of something— All for naught.

“Ah, fuck. I’m out.”

A softer swear under his breath that you would have caught had it not been for how distraught you were at his words.

“But when I get bigger—“

“You won’t like most of ‘em when ya get bigger either, kid. They’re assholes. Every single last one of them rat bastards.”

Oh.

That’s quite the revelation. But at the same time, you feel something akin to a lump in your chest, an unsteadiness to your heart. You know it’s not tears that were threatening to spill, know it’s not panic-stricken fear that will leave you shaking like a leaf. In fact, you recognize it the best nowadays.

Uncertainty. A knowing doubt. Ambiguity. Your worst enemy.

“That’s not true, mister.” Your feet lift off the ground as you start to lightly swing again. “Alphas can be nice people too.”

You would know. Geto-mama was different, was not anything like he had just described. You like her— Love her, actually. She’s been nothing but good to you in the few years you’ve met her.

A kind lady. Your Mama says it’s hard to get Geto-mama to stop talking sometimes, though.

(You should ask for her astrology sign later. Just in case the news says she’s gonna have a bad day. It’s good to have someone warn you if they’re unlucky that day.)

“That so, huh?” He’s looking at you now, letting his lips stretch out into another smug grin with an uncharacteristic softness in his eye. “Then I hope to see how that shitty mindset of yours holds up when ya get older, kid.”

He’s kinda cool. He would probably make a really good drawing for someone. But—

“You said another bad word.”

“…you been keepin’ track?”

“Mhm.”

The sunlight finally fades when he sighs, the heels of his beaten loafers digging into the sand below as the metal of the chains squeak, finally free of his added weight. He stretches, arms behind his head as he yawns at the fading orange of the night.

“Remember our deal, kid.” His back faces you, only to turn his head only slightly, letting you see the scarred lip that you admired so much upon a grin. "And don't stay out too late out 'ere."

He wasn’t a bad Alpha either, you decide.

——

“Tch! That old man down the street’s a scammer!” Gojo Satoru is pouting, chubby cheeks puffed up with narrowed eyes and stained lips as he pokes at the supposed, promised ‘strawberry’ flavoured ice. “There’s no difference in this one either!”

“He only made them different colours. The melon one tastes the same too.” Geto Suguru is pulling away once he’s had a bite of all three, a hand dabbing away at the remnant sweetness on his lips.

“Was he too lazy to make more because it’s still cold? Mmm... Maybe we should've asked Kimiko-san to bring your shaved ice machine instead."

“No way! She would’ve said that I couldn’t eat it with any syruppppp!”

“That’s cause y’er meant to be on a sweets ban, Satoru. Didya manage to even get it lifted even a little bit?”

“Hmph!”

“So you didn’t.”

“Hmph!”

And there you were, sat upon the playground’s deck, hidden from the sunlight and protected by the shade as you poked at the supposed ‘blue hawaii’ flavoured shaved ice treat.

It doesn’t really taste ‘blue’ or very ‘hawaii’. Not that you know what either of those taste like. Though, you’re not quite bothered by the fact that it tastes oddly similar to Suguru’s green coloured ‘melon’ one as Satoru pokes your mouth with a spoonful of his own ‘strawberry’.

“Heyyyyyyyy! Pay attention to us! Ya can’t daze off when we’re discussing important stuff!”

You’re still bothered by it. Even as your mouth parts to allow the spoon to be shoved not so gently into your mouth, even as you chew in thought as a head lays upon your shoulder and Suguru wiping your mouth with a handkerchief already pretty stained in blue, green and red.

“I’ll love you no matter which one you end up being.”

Ah, your old enemy. Ambiguity. You find it quite troublesome to be you right now, your eyes closed in focused thought and a hand on your chin to sell the look. You can’t just suddenly be okay with any one of them just because Mama said she didn’t have a preference.

It’s not because you think one is superior to another, not because you dislike all of them. Or worse; prefer one over another.

You just need to at least pick one to work towards being.

"Which one would you guys wanna be?" It’s sudden, very out of topic from the Digimon debate your friends were having as they practically hung off of you, tossing your hair about or lying on your shoulder… But you think they understand regardless. They always did, no matter how strange or irrelevant the situation may be.

(You’re starting to think they’re mind readers.)

“…is this because of what Tachibana said?” Ah. You’ve been seen through in a blink of an eye. Were you that obvious? Or was it just because Suguru had always been the type to notice this type of thing?

“You shouldn’t care too much about what someone like him says, (name)-chan.”

Satoru pouts beside you, a hand lightly smacking your shoulder as retribution as you feel him grab your face, pinching lightly at your cheeks as you finally look at him.

“Why’re ya even thinkin’ about other kids?” He squeezes your face for good measure. “We’re here, aren’t we?”

You blink, feeling mushed and very much squished. “Sorry.” You should’ve known they wouldn’t have liked this type of thing either. Maybe you should’ve read the air better.

“There ya go apologizin’ and not telling us what you think again.” A cross of fingers and a sudden flick to your forehead as you recoil back slightly, the only support being Suguru’s hands pushing you back up as your hands go up to be rubbing your reddening cheeks instead. “Don’tcha get tired?”

It’s an honest question on his part, his snappy way of talking and his huffy mumbling about how you need to stop that annoying habit of yours.

But you’re trying, you really are.

“I’ll give ya ice later if it still hurts.” That’s how he is. Geto Suguru who was kind and soft and always tried to soften the blows Satoru lands upon you.

Though, your black haired friend still tuts at him. “You shouldn’t hit her, Satoru.” He stops to really think about it for a moment, slow realisation in his words. “Save ‘em for others who deserve it.”

Their conversation is lost on you once again, your eyes only the slightest bit teary when you open them, blinking up at the both of them before you’re practically smooshed once again by the way they’ve decided to close their faces in on you, their own cheeks pressed against each other from how closely squished all three of you were.

“You cryin’?”

“Did Satoru squeeze you too hard?” Suguru’s brows are scrunched in worry, knitted together in anxiousness as he elbows the white-haired counterpart.

“O-Oi! I didn’t use that much strength—!”

It’s nice to have people worry about you, you think. It makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside as you feel them tap lightly against your face, pressing the cups of the chilly shaved ice against your cheeks as you simply… Slump forward and let it happen.

Friends are nice to have.

——

You’re finally 7 when you’re using a leg to push open the creaky metal gate, dragging a rather large basket of food behind you and grunting with each step. Mama did pack an uncharacteristically huge amount of food for all of you upon your mention of the mini picnic at the playground.

(But to be fair, you think all three of you do eat quite a bit combined.)

You’re excited. Not just for the food, but for how fun it would be, especially in spring amongst the pretty flowers that just started to bloom. A slight breeze passes by you, flowers blooming and scattering onto the crown of your head as petals fluttered down from the bright pink of cherry blossom blooms.

It’s pretty. So pretty. They blot and cover the plainness of the grey concrete beneath you, creating a path of blushing rosiness with every step you took.

You noticed that even the sunlight was gentle as it spots down from in between those bunched up leaves, so careful as they shine onto the ground. It makes your trek all the more delightful as you hum the tune to the morning news channel.

Ito Saya was quite the pretty news anchor… Even if she only mostly did the weather reports.

Though, you’re hoping that you won’t be too late, considering the fact that you’re the one lugging the rather large basket of treats there. Ah, whatever.

You just hope you don’t miss anything important.

And your eyes don’t deceive you when you witness the chill of spring become tangible in the form of a cute peck to the sakura petal stuck upon the winter child’s cheek.

You watch how the petals fall, how you think you’re forgetting to breathe properly as it hitches in your throat. Were you even blinking anymore? Your feet seemed rooted to the dirt beneath to admire them all the more.

“Is that enough yet?” Geto Suguru is grimacing at his friend, blushing just as pink as the flowers that had flittered onto his hair, petals dancing as they descend onto the hastily smoothed out picnic blanket.

“Mmm…” He had his eyes closed, arms crossed across his chest as the smugness doesn’t cease to stop. “One more would do!”

“Aren’t you being too greedy now?!”

“You’re the one who hit me! So ya have to kiss my boo boos!”

Ah. The pretty moment is ruined, so you can’t help but giggle as you watch from afar. Your friends are the sweetest.

“(nameeeeeee)!” Your snowy-haired Satoru is immediately on his feet, his sandals long kicked off to the side as he waves an arm at you. “Suguru kicked my face!!!!!”

It comes out as a whine, a complaint. Even if he had made the poor boy make up to him and console his pain.

“I didn’t even kick that hard!”

“Ya you did! Gimme all your cake if you really wanna say sorry!”

Your friends are truly the sweetest, you think. When Suguru is the first one dragging Satoru over to help you with your basket, when you’re watching as the blue-eyed boy pouts about the sting on his face, and even when you’re giving Suguru his hug in greeting first, letting him smile into your shoulder as you hold him tight.

“(nameeeeee)! Gimme mine next!”

Your friends are truly sweet— Especially when you mimic the shy kiss Suguru had given to the apple-cheeked boy that had shied away the moment you smiled so brightly at him.

You couldn’t ask for more.

“I’d wanna be a beta with you, you know?” Suguru’s talking through a mouthful of sandwich, cheeks stuffed to the capacity as he tries to push even more in.

Manners are mostly forgotten when not in the vicinity of an adult. And even more so if it was to answer a question you had asked a week ago.

“But… I think Beta would be good, right? It’s in between and has the most balance.” Balance in the sense that— You haven’t heard anything negative about it yet.

“Maybe I should settle on that?”

“Ya both think too little!” There’s a shift, bare feet stepping against the plush softness of the rather well made blanket when Gojo Satoru stand up tall on his own two feet, the shine of his eyes behind fluttering white lashes making you stare a little too hard.

He’s so cute.

“I’m gonna be an Alpha and make both of you my servants!” He has a triumphant huff to his tone, an all too confident posture in his stance as he points a demanding finger at the both of you.

“He’s got some imagination.”

“Mama says it’s cute when we act like babies.”

“Hey! Are ya both listenin’ to me?!”

But their replies have you stopping to think for a bit. How would you know what you would end up as anyway? Is there a way to tell? Would astrology have anything to do with it?

Maybe you need to watch the news a bit more.

“Huh? (name)-chan. It’s smell, isn’t it? That's how you tell.” Suguru’s tilting his head to the side as he watches your eyes blink back into focus, waving a hand in front of your face in efforts to bring you back.

They’re really good at reading minds.

“No, ya dummy. Y’er talkin’ out loud.”

It’s better to believe in magic. The mystical is definitely more fun, and you definitely wanna be a fairy someday. It’s gonna be—

“Satoru.” Your nose twitches when he leans over you to reach for the cream puffs he had Kimiko-san prepare. “You smell like sunlight.”

Maybe different people had different smells.

“Is there anything?” You’re sat on your knees with your arms stretched out to the sides in front of them, barely audible but just enough so for the wind to whisper your voice into their ears, watching as Suguru’s bangs sway with the branches of that familiar tree you were all sat under.

"Can't really make out anything on you, actually." Suguru's face is pressed into your hair from behind, his nose taking decisive whiffs to help answer your question. "All I can smell is that shampoo you and your mama use... Satoru, any luck?"

“Mmm…” His nose is nudging against the side of your neck, taking a deep whiff of the skin before he pulls back. “S’ not that there’s anything actually—“ He dives in for another, his soft face against your own as you hold his shoulder to steady him.

You can feel how the strands of Suguru's hair was brushing against your nape, his palm now resting on your shoulder as his free hand brushes through your hair.

You see crystal blue peek up at you, before leaning back to hold his chin to scrutinize a bit more.

“Hmm… Water, maybe?” His eyes are closed in stark thought as white hair is caressed by another swirl of spring wind. “Can’t really get anything past that, though.”

Oh. You had no smell then. Nothing.

"It's okay. It's enough that you smell nice to us."

You hear him— Suguru say that pretty often, actually. Words that keep affirming you that it’s enough because it’s them, that you don’t need to go any further than that.

“Isn’t it enough that it’s for us?” He taps against the neatly wrapped plastic that held the cookies that Mama had helped you to bake in advance in attempts to make new friends within the classroom.

“Why’d you need it for the other kids?”

You want to have people who like you at the very least, even if you can’t make friends with them. That’s why.

“Hmm… Don’t you think Satoru would be mad?”

Maybe Geto Suguru was just that type of friend. Almost as clingy as your Satoru— Yet not quite letting you see what he truly was thinking. He’s always been quite polite; with you and the others around him.

Yet, you can’t help but feel like there’s something else behind his words, his actions— And his demeanour. You just can’t quite place an ascertain finger on it even when he smiles at you and blows a petal off of your hair.

So gentle. So pretty. He kind of reminds you of your Mama, if you think about it.

"Okay.”

And he looks content with your reply, his arms hugging around you briefly before they pulled away.

He’s really warm.

“Well? Ya have your answers now?” Satoru’s tilting his head at you before he drinks directly from the bottle of juice Suguru had brought, downing the apple juice and completely disregarding the cups Kimiko-san had so graciously prepared.

Maybe? Probably. You don’t really know for sure when you’re curling your fingers into a fist and back into a splayed hand.

It’s enough for now.

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