#despite the fact that it scared me i asked to watch it numerous times after that

[2kverrr]

SAM GIDDINGS - Dating Headcanons

UNTIL DAWN || Sam Giddings x Reader

sam had 0 time for drama, especially including that of her own friends'. And being one of emily davis' closest friends basically encased your life in her drama.

you didn't feel as close with sam as you were with the group. but you felt most drawn to her, her maturity, her nurture, her kindness. more or less everything your friends lacked.

she's kickass, not scared to put someone in their place, something you never quite found the confidence to do.

she hates fishing, loves gardening, tolerates publicly accessible nature reserves, enjoys outdoor activities, despises zoos and you're not so sure how you know all of this.

you doubt she knows a single thing about you. it's weird - you can be friends with the top dogs and have some sort of silly superiority over people, yet nobody really knows you.

you and sam had spoken numerous times before, each you could remember were rather enjoyable. the two of you got on really well, but it was rare either of you could get any time alone

that was until you were approximately 4 weeks away from winter break.

"for fuck's sake em, just call him." you groan, your left hand massaging the bridge of your nose, but the girl straight out refused aggressively shoving her hands onto her hips and socking her head, yelling, "how many times do i have to tell you. i? am. not. wanting. i. am. wanted. a girl like me doesn't chase after people, they cha-""emily i'm going to leave you with your problem, since it is yours, not mine. see you at lunch." and with that, you head out of the girls' bathroom and out into the busy corridor.

you catch a glimpse of sam leaning against a locker, scrolling through her phone. There’s an ease in her posture that draws you in despite the weight of your worries - well emily's. “hey, everything okay?” sam looks up, her hazel eyes sharp and assessing. it’s both intimidating and comforting at the same time. you take a breath, trying to shake off the frustration of the last few minutes. “just another day in the life of emily,” you say with a half-hearted chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood. sam arches an eyebrow, not buying the attempt at humour.

"mike? is she still hung up over him?" she asks, her voice laced with understanding. you nod, with a deep sigh and an eye roll. "well, at least you're not like that, that's what I like about you." but you're too caught up in staring at her moving mouth to actually respond, before you know it she's waving her hand in front of your face, "huh- sorry, what were you saying?" she giggles, picking up the books from her locker and beginning to make her leave, "I'll see you around."

that interaction definitely stuck with you, or maybe it didn't, but the fact that you continued to think about it for the rest of the day is a big giveaway.

you're almost certain the corner of your eye spotted a suspicious emily briefly witness the interaction and watch you stare giddings down as she walked away, but that's a conversation for later.

after that talk with the blonde, you both found yourselves in more situations on your own, bumping into each other in the hallway, finding yourselves bored at parties, fixing your makeup in the bathroom mirror and seeing a certain hazel-eyes blonde behind you.

the week of receiving the message from josh, you and sam became really close, almost replacing emily in some way. besides, emily was now happily married off to matt, a sweet boy, not the sharpest tool in the box though.

you'd manage to persuade her to let you give her a lift to josh's mountain getaway, despite her refusal she ended up in your passenger seat feeding you mints as you drive.

you get out of your car and begin to lug bags out, placing them on the floor, sam is busy checking out her surroundings quite contently. but she swiftly turns around to face you, "hey, i wanted to tell you something," you raise your head curiously along with a quirked eyebrow, "i know we've been hanging out a lot lately," she continued, her voice dropping to a more conspiratorial tone. "but it feels different, doesn't it? like, we've really clicked, and I really like it - so please expect me to follow you around like a puppy dog... i still can't look at all the guys the same after last year." her eyebrows furrow. you sigh softly, the gears in your mind turning as you contemplated her words, "i get it sam, i like it too," you smirk, ", now am i taking both of our bags up or are you gonna' lend a hand?" she chuckles, her tension breaking as a playful glimmer replaces her earlier seriousness. "ugh - i really thought i'd get away with that." "i'll take them up for you. just lead the way," you nod, "this place really freaks me out."

settling in was a bit of a cofuffle, sam bagsied our rooms and had already called dibs on a bath.

you'd barely made it up the mountain with yours and her bags before she'd waltzed in, beckoning you to hurry up. don't even start on the wall you had to hop.

"guys, guys, hold your horses. we can't get comfy yet - generators, boilers and locks. i've sent mike and jess off to the generator outdoors, em and matt are... um- somewhere," josh takes a long scan for the couple that weren't present, ", right! sam's bath, boiler's downstairs, switch it on then you can have your beloved bath." she firmly places her hands on her hips and tilts her head, "you think i know how to work those kin-" you're quick to cut her off, "i'll go, can't be that hard." shrugging your shoulders. "that's the spirit, amigo!" the dark-haired boy cheers, fussing up your hair. of course sam's protests began, and again you managed to butt in. "look, i know what i'm doing, trust me.” you say, trying to keep the tension in the room from rising. “it should be pretty straightforward. i'll check for the spark plug first—if it’s clean, just give it a gentle pull. worst-case, i might have to troubleshoot a bit more," there's a bit of a silence, confusion mostly, "yeah, um- my dad's a plumber.” you didn't exactly understand half the words you'd just said but if it gave you a chance at impressing sam, it was so worth it. she slowly smiles, "impressive..." biting her lip, looking you up and down with newfound admiration. "who knew you had all these hidden talents?" she teases, eyes sparkling with mischief. "maybe you can teach me a thing or two about plumbing after this bath fiasco." the playful banter felt like a breath of fresh air amidst the clamour of everyone scurrying around and arguing, and you couldn’t help but swell with pride. “alright, let’s see if I can live up to the expectation,” you reply, trying to sound more confident than you felt. josh looks between the two of you, a devious grin slowly forming on my face, "is this- oh wow. this- this is great!" he turns around, presumably going to find chris and ash, you do the same, not at all looking forward to seeing this 20 year boiler in all it's glory.

fortunately, the boiler hadn't frozen over completely.

the basement was eerie enough, never mind all of the creepy shit happening around you: screams, shouts, smashes. something wasn't right.

like any stereotypical horror movie, you walk right into the danger to find out what was going on."

and as always, you were right. josh's basement was fucked up, led to some sort of mine, where you soon found a battered and bruised mike, stumbling his way through the caved area. his ankle didn't look so good, but he didn't complain

the next half hour you were trying to navigate your way, the poor guy was traumatised, jess had disappeared, dead or alive? not a single clue.

there's apparently somebody or something out there with her and they're in the mines, you're baffled to say the least, but you stayed put.

all until a scream was heard, female, it was far yet so close.

"mike! what was that noise?" the two of you pause your movements, and prick your heads up, faint cries could be heard and the occasional, "anyone! help!" you knew that voice, almost naturally you race over the source of the noise, struggling to find a door, "where's jess? is it her? oh, please say it's her." mike whiles up against the wall while you attempt to barge your way in. "sam! i'm here, mike too. i'm coming in." “almost there!” you shout back to mike, who is still positioned by the flimsy beam of light your flashlights provide. he looks torn between helping you and staying on guard, eyes darting nervously around the oppressive shadows. the urgency in your efforts intensifies, and you feel your fingers digging into the rough surface of the door. it shifts slightly, just enough to give you hope, and with one last shove, it creaks open. you stumble inside, breathless, and immediately the air feels thicker, charged with an unsettling energy. "fuck sam! what the fuck happened?" the girl was tied up in a chair, nothing but a towel. whoever did this must've been fucked in the head, sick. you take a cautious step forward, your eyes zeroing in on the girl’s wide, terrified gaze. “you’re alright now,” you whisper reassuringly, though your own insides are knotting up at the sight. "oh my god, you're here... i- he chased me! th- then-" the blonde leans forwards into you once you complete untying her ankle bounds, sore red marks forming over her pale skin. her arms completely wrap around you, she's freezing. sliding off your hoodie and body warmer, you begin to wrap them around the girl. "-sam, it's okay. you can explain everything later. you safe now we-" but before you can finish your sentence, the girl leans in, connecting your lips in a kiss, short and sweet due to their being a third presence in the room. as your lips part, you both freeze, momentarily caught off guard by the sudden surge of intimacy in the midst of chaos. sam's eyes are wide with surprise, glistening with unshed tears, but there’s a flicker of gratitude behind her fear. you clear your throat, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks, but the urgency of the situation quickly pulls you back to reality. "i thought you were dead, y/n.”

after all police interrogation had been completed, those who survived were wasting away. josh dead. matt dead. jess dead. sam and yourself isolated yourselves from the rest.

after sam almost sacrificed herself to save you, you made an oath to yourself that you're forever indebted to her.

you were in love - even amongst the sick and twisted events that you two had to go through.

you both didn't go out as much anymore, your previous party-girl lifestyle completely left behind.

instead you both settled on movie nights or cooking sessions.

you immediately expanded her music taste, she's a great girl but her music taste could definitely do with some improving.

rock climbing dates, kayaking, surfing (which you absolutely smashed - sam could barely stand up on the bored)

sam always managed to convince you to go camping with her, bribing you with all sorts, despite your hatred for bugs.

she's the most peaceful sleeper, she looks like and angel when fast asleep. you're both early birds, which meant you really enjoy spening the morning in bed just admiring one another.

every month or so you'll pay a visit to the friends you lost together, paying respects. hell even josh - sam calls him mentally ill, whereas you call him batshit crazy. but he was your friend, one of our closest, you're still unsure to this day why you were apart of his cruel game but you couldn't keep dwelling on the past so you came to forgive him.

it's even rare to see the friends that made it out alive, you knew chris and ash moved away together, forgetting all that had happened. the last you heard off of mike was "i'm igniting some old flames - definitely going for drinks soon?"

it'd been 3 months and you never went to see him.

you and sam assumed that old flame is emily, your once best friend who you hadn't spoken to since before the disaster.

[kingpreciouswrld]

Hi luv, can you do a angst to fluff Miranda Priestly imagine where Andrea comes back to Runway to confess her feelings for Miranda, but Miranda is in a relationship w/ the reader and has to choose between them. At the end Miranda chooses the reader!

Wants and Needs

Title from Drake's song -"Wants and Needs"

Pairing: Miranda Priestly x Reader

Genre: Angst -> Fluff

Word count: 2k

A/N: God you know I'm a sucker for angsty Miranda 😫 I hope you like it! All mistakes are mine ;-;

__________

The phone landed on the sofa with a soft bounce as you sat back into your own chair with a sigh.

You just got a call from Nigel. He called you right when he got back from leaving Miranda’s office and told you that he saw her walking into the office.

Her being the infamous Andrea Sachs.

The young journalist was known as the one who walked away alive. And thanks to Nigel, you also knew Andrea as the girl who was in love with her ex-boss and your girlfriend, Miranda Priestly.

It wasn’t new information to those who knew the young journalist. Nigel had told you that the girl developed feelings for the editor during her tenure at Runway. So far, the girl never showed any interest in Miranda after she walked away in Paris, and you hoped it stayed that way.

Your relationship with Miranda wasn’t public and you liked it that way. Miranda wanted to keep things underwraps until the both of you were ready to face the numerous paparazzi, critics, and the unavoidable page six, but keeping things underwraps meant that no one knew the editor was taken.

There was no reason for the girl to be at Runway unless...no, no, you needed to use a wise mind. But the journalist wrote small columns in a mediocre newspaper, so why would she be in Runway’s offices?

You tried your best to not jump to conclusions but if anything, you had faith in Miranda. She didn’t like to be bothered during Runway hours unless it was a family matter so you knew she would ignore the girl.

You hoped she would.

You didn’t know much about how Miranda felt about Andrea, she never talked about it.

Either way, there was nothing you could do with the information you were given, you weren’t going to call Miranda at work,

So you just waited.

~~~~~~~

The shutting of the front door followed by heels clacking on tiled floors told you that Miranda was home.

You didn't need to check the time for it to tell you that Miranda was late, more late than usual.

You followed her movements with your hearing, never breaking your staring contest with the painting in front of you.

She was getting closer.

You didn’t have to tell her where you were, you didn't have the energy to anyway but she always came to the study to work on the book.

“Darling there you are.” Miranda bent down and pressed a small kiss to your forehead.

You responded with a hum and watched as your lover made herself comfortable on the sofa across from you.

“How was your day? Did you manage to turn in your project on time?” she asked as she put on her reading glasses before turning to the book.

You were too out of it to answer her questions. Your day was...fine, it was tolerable, but your mind was running at a thousand miles per second and it made you despondent.

Not getting a reply from you, Miranda looked up from the book, “Darling?” she asked softly, "is everything alright?"

"Hm?" Your eyes found icey blue ones that were filled with concern. "Oh, yeah–yes, everything's fine."

Satisfied with your response, Miranda sent you a soft smile before she returned her focus to the fashion pages in her lap.

The silence that followed swallowed you whole, only broken with the few scratches of Miranda's red pen and the flipping of pages.

"Why was Andrea at Runway today?"

At least you held off for longer than you thought you would.

Miranda's focus didn't falter, the only telltale sign that she heard you was the sharp inhale through her nose.

"What are you talking about darling?"

"Andrea Sachs. Why was she there?"

Miranda made no move to stop her work and you sighed,

"It's just a question Miranda."

Knowing that she couldn't get any work done until you were addressed, Miranda finally looked up at you, taking her glasses off in the process,

"If you must know, she was just there to talk."

"Okay," you nodded slowly, "talk about what?"

The white-haired editor fluffed her hair before she waved you off, "It's nothing, really."

"Miranda you never just 'talk' to someone during work let alone an ex-assistant who walked out on you. She worked for you Miranda, I thought you wouldn't be caught dead with someone like–"

"Do NOT talk about Andréa like that," Miranda snapped.

Miranda had never raised her voice at you and it made you physically flinch. She was defending Andrea.

For the first time since the relationship started, you were shaken. You couldn't read Miranda at all and it scared you.

Without warning, your mask slipped in place and you became eerily calm,

"What happened," you said quietly.

Miranda had gone back to the book albeit working slower than usual,

"The girl merely wanted to have dinner."

The puzzle pieces were settling into place. You could feel your stomach clench. Your heart sped up, and you felt your nerves set off as the waves of anxiety spread from your chest throughout your whole body,

"That's why you were late wasn't it…"

Miranda simply continued with her work as she pushed some of her bangs out of her eyes, "Don't be ridiculous Y/N, it was just about friends catching up."

"You never talked about her, you refused to talk about her, she isn't just a 'friend' Miranda."

There was a silent pause as you observed your lover. Her own mask was in place and she was blatantly ignoring the situation. She wouldn't even look you in the eye.

"She asked you out again, didn't she."

A whispered 'yes' cut through the silence.

You took a deep, steadying breath,

"What did you say."

Silence. Miranda returned to the book, turning the pages and making notes here and there. She never once acknowledged you, it was as if the editor shut you out completely.

It broke your heart.

"I hope having your fun is worth it."

You quietly approached the editor, making sure you didn't jostle the book in her lap, before you bent down and placed your own kiss on her forehead.

You couldn't bring yourself to say anything else. The answer of silence was an answer in itself.

Quietly leaving the study, you made your way up to your– to Miranda's bedroom and gathered your clothes into a duffle bag. You didn't want to stay here, you couldn't. You didn't know what all of this meant, it was too much for you to process, but you knew you had to leave.

~~~~~~~

A year of being together and a journalist is what comes between the two of you. A year. A fucking year.

And now, here you were, sitting alone in a hotel room for the 8th day in a row.

How easy it was for Miranda to look at another.

Throughout the week you did your best to not doubt yourself. You knew Miranda's curiosity had nothing to do with how you were as a person or a lover, but you couldn't help that little voice in the back of your head that questioned why you weren't enough to satisfy Miranda.

After the second day of being away from the editor, she started to blow up your phone. Calls on top of calls came through, even during Runway hours and Miranda never called you during Runway hours, maybe texted, but never called.

The night you left the townhouse was the last time you talked to Miranda. Even though she's made many, many attempts to reach you, you weren't ready. Those self-doubts made you hesitant to pick up any of the calls that came to your phone.

On the third day she started to get Nigel and Emily to contact you. You told Nigel what happened and he wasn't happy with what Miranda had done. Emily heard what happened the first time she had contacted you and the redhead wasn't thrilled either. Although Emily was hard to deal with at times, you knew she wanted the best for you and right now she didn't think Miranda was what's best for you. Either way, both of them knew the situation and both of them promised to keep your location underwraps.

That, in turn, caused Miranda to double her attempts (as if they weren't enough already).

She started to send gifts, flowers, anything the editor thought you might like.

When you would arrive at work, there would be a bouquet of flowers on your desk, then throughout the day more bouquets would follow. Hell the woman would send you chocolates, not the cheap ones either, the best chocolates money could buy in New York City. You started to find Roy waiting for you after work and despite your attempts of refusal, you caved in after he personally wanted to see you make it back to wherever you were staying, safely.

Every mutual friend you had with Miranda knew where you were and what had happened between you two, and each of them promised to keep quiet on the matter.

You knew you couldn't hide forever, you just didn't know when she'd finally find you.

A knock on your hotel door snapped you out of your thoughts.

Your breath hitched. It couldn't be Miranda right? You've managed to slip away for 8 days, surely you had more time.

Looking through the little peep hole, you felt your body relax before confusion passed over your features. You never ordered room service. Unless you did and just forgot about it.

You shrugged, 'Free food is free food.' You opened the door and followed the bellhop as he pushed the cart in. Taking a closer look, you found that the cart held a tray of your favorite foods with a basket of your favorite snacks.

"Um, excuse me, where did you get all of this?"

"You only deserve the best."

You whipped around and found Miranda standing in the doorway.

She looked as if she came from work. Her famously white hair had fallen out of it's usual coif and there were a few wrinkles on her blouse.

What surprised you was the fact that the usual poised editor was fidgeting with her fingers. You could practically feel the anxiety rolling off of her body in waves. It was only then that you noticed that the two of you were now alone in your hotel room.

Miranda didn't know where to start, "Y/N, I…" she took a deep breath, "I love you and I-I'm sorry for my lapse in judgement about the whole..Andréa spiel."

You watched as Miranda took tentative steps forward, gaining more confidence when she didn't get any refusal from you.

She took hold of your hands and pressed kisses to them both, "Darling, it's you. I love you and only you. There has never been a moment since you left that I haven't thought of you."

"Miranda…" you whispered softly.

She shook her head and squeezed your hands, "I need you. I should have never entertained the thought of life without you by my side. I choose you Y/N, I love you."

You bit your lip before you sent a small smile towards the editor and Miranda's eyes brightened. She pulled you into a crushing hug and she clung to you like a koala as she kissed any part of your body that was in reach: your shoulder, your neck, your hair. All the while, she whispered 'I love you's' and 'I'm sorry's' and 'Y/N' as if chanting these things would keep you two in the moment. You indulged in the love that was showered on you and you hugged Miranda back just as tightly.

Miranda finally settled to hide her face in the crook of your neck,

"How did you find me?"

Her response was muffled by your neck but you heard it all the same,

"I may have threatened Emily with the banning of cheese in the offices."

You snorted a laugh.

'Ratted out for cheese cubes..are cheese gift baskets a thing?’

__________

Devil Wears Prada tags: @007giu

[gimmm]

Strawberries and Cigarettes - Chapter 1

An Enhypen Jungwon x GN Reader Au

TW //: Cursing, Mentions of Suicide, Depression, Blood, Cigarettes, Injuries

Genre : Angst

Word Count : 5575 Words

" Remember when you taught me fate

Said it'd all be worth the wait

Like that night in the back of the cab

When your fingers walked in my hand"

"Everybody pick up the pace!!" a shouting Jay yelled as he was attempting to awaken the individuals, right now summer came and following quite a while of relentless comebacks and performances , the boys had the option to persuade their company to give them an extended break they truly ached for and wanted for this second to come, a long get-away where they won't have to ponder being on the money, Jungwon infact proposed the possibility of a break and, surprisingly, however he's still somewhere down in sleep, he was very energized.

After a great deal of grumblings and yells in Enhypen's residence, they were set to at last take off to go to your country, a few individuals resting on the way and a few watching movies and series in the television.

Y/N POV

One more day, another having an anxiety attack in light of these school works, Y/N was still in secondary school, reading up hard constant for 2 days, in the wake of being forced by my parents to take progressed classes since I was "so smart" I can't resist the urge to suppose assuming this nightmare will at any point be finished, I watched through on my window to see the rain pouring in slowy, during circumstances such as this, I recall my grandfather, the times where we dranked coffee as we watch the rain hit the road, when we talked about our problems, and how we would argue about certain things but would quickly agree with the conclusion.

A tear got away from my eyes as I recalled those memories, I genuinely wish my granddad was still here with me, Then I recollected an expression he told me prior to taking his final gasp, "Y/N remember, everytime it downpours, drink strawberry milk or coffee and take a glimpse at the sky, I will drink with you and will continuously be paying attention to you , I love you."

Jungwon POV

Following a difficult hour flight, we at long last shown up in this delightful country, I can hardly stand by to do numerous exercises here.

As we gone through the hotel we're remaining at, we unloaded our sacks and had proactively coordinated every one of our things, we were preparing to swim until out of nowhere downpour tumbled from the sky, I can see my fellow members disheartened, well genuinely so am I, we again changed to our indoor garments to watch scary films.

During the film, Niki talked which astounded everybody, "Hyungs how about we play mario kart and the last spot player should purchase snacks and beverages for the champs" "Goodness come on Niki-yah, without a doubt you're recommending this since you're scared already", Jake said snickering "yet certain, i'm down for that".

As the individuals played mario kart, giggling and cheers occupied the room, it was a fun match despite the fact that clearly everyone was viewing it in a serious way, toward the end Jungwon lost and was given the errand to purchase snacks and beverages for the individuals, bringing an umbrella prior to going out, Jungwon made sure to have all that to keep him warm, safe, and safeguarded.

Y/N POV

Following an hour of doing my school works i'm pleased to say that i'm done as of now, I organized my things prior to going out to purchase whatever would top off my small scale ice chest, I petted my cat one final time before going out.

I emerged with next to no umbrella, I was simply wearing a coat, a hoodie to be precise, I came by my sibling's work environment, associate corporates, the biggest correspondence company in our country.

As I stroll inside the company, I asked the assistant where my sibling was, she let me know that he was on his office so I immediately gone to his office, as I strolled inside I welcomed him and requested consent on the off chance that I could go to the roof, ofcourse he agreed so i've gone there, taking a look at the city from such a high spot was exceptionally close to home for me, particularly on the grounds that the tune i'm playing is on mix and death bed came on, the developments, the structures, the organizations, and the mists above, they mirrored one another.

Preparing to leave, I bid my sibling goodbye prior to leaving his structure, removing my headphones, I paid attention to the sound of downpour, thunder, and traffic as I was outside. I again recollected everything that my granddad said to me so I immediately gone to a small scale store.

I got my #1 beverage, strawberry milk, then looking at the counter prior to sitting outside, as the downpour came more earnestly, I watched the rain drops tumble from the rooftop, then a loud vehicle blare astounded me, a guy was going across the road, he grabbed my eye, from his head to his heels he was flawless.

I was in a loss of words, I squeezed myself to ensure that I was awake well as a matter of fact I'm, I felt my cheeks heat up as I watch him go across the road and enter the smaller than expected store.

As I kept drinking my strawberry milk, a touch on the shoulder surprised me, a person in his middle age plunking down close to me, ofcourse I wouldn't mind helping him, he appears as though he simply required help sitting down.

As I partook in the sweet taste of strawberry milk alongside the sound and smell of the heavy storm, the man sitting close to me had a cigarette and a lighter in his grasp, "Could you be so kind to light my cigarette?" "sure" I said as I smoothly took the lighter from his hands when unexpectedly he stuck me into a divider, "try to yell or move and you'll wind up dying, you will do what I say or something bad might happen" , I hushed up, I didn't have the foggiest idea what to do, he held my hand and pulled me towards his vehicle, how was he going to treat me? what will befall me? am I going to be alright? , questions filled my mind as this present circumstance was extremely upsetting for me, shaking off my viewpoints I saw the man laying on the ground, blood gradually getting away from his head.

Jungwon POV

As I was going across the street, I couldn't resist the opportunity to see a doll outside the mini store, they looked drenched with downpour and I can't resist the urge to want to give them my coat, as I was gazing at them for some time a honk pulled me back into the real world.

Going inside the store, I took a great deal of chips and beverages manually, as I was on the counter paying for the things, I saw a drag attempting to contact the hooman I saw before, he was pulling him inside a dark van, in the wake of getting the things, I ran outside and kicked the man's head, the person i met awhile ago looked panicked.

Nobodys POV

"Are you alright?" asked Jungwon, y/n didn't reply, they couldn't say whether he was star strucked or panicked, as Jungwon pulled them near him, he held their hand prior to running until they reached the hotel where Enhypen were staying at, both were drenched with downpour however interestingly, they are protected.

a collab with : @parkmejeon004

[shinescape]

Fansign Event

Idol San x Fem Reader

Requested!

tw: a bit angsty and a very small hint of suggestiveness hahaha.

note: this took me awhile but I do hope you like this anon! Enjoy <3

-San, I know you’re busy but can you help me pick an outfit?- You were pacing in your living room as you waited for him to reply. Seconds later, a new message appeared on your screen.

-I like the first one. Are you wearing this for tomorrow’s fansign? You’re coming right?-

You bit your bottom lip at his reply, hoping that he won’t be too mad at you. -I’m sorry San, but I have plans with my friend tomorrow. I don’t think I can go.-

It took him awhile to reply back and you couldn’t help feeling restless. Tired of pacing around, you sat down on the carpeted floor and leaned against the sofa. He’s definitely upset, you thought. Then, your phone chimed again. After reading his reply, you had come to a definite conclusion. Choi San was upset with you, really upset with you.

-Okay. Have fun-

The whole day your mind was filled with his last reply and how cold it felt. Every task you did, your mind would wander to what he was doing at the exact moment. You had your fair share of quarrels but they weren’t serious. It was either about a missing hoodie or who forgot to wish goodnight before sleeping.

This was another level and it’s eating you up. You made some ramen but your appetite was gone, the hot bowl decorating the dining table as you stared hard at your phone. Hoping that it would chime again, whatever the content was. A tired sighed escape your lips as you started to eat the already warm ramen and succumbed in your own guilt.

“I should not have done that. Now I feel so miserable.” You mumbled followed by another long sigh. A sudden ding was heard and you carefully looked at the sender. -Did you both fight again?- You didn’t know what reason to come up so you end up asking Hongjoong how San was doing at the moment.

-He’s not talking to anyone and was in his room all day.- Before you could finish up a reply he sent another text. -Both of you better make up. Okay?- You replied with an ‘okay’ and put your phone back on the table. This wasn’t supposed to turn out like this but it happened and you had to make things right before it gets worse.

The next day you woke up as usual even when you had trouble sleeping with thoughts of San being upset flooding your head. The effect he had on you was no joke and you realised how lucky you are. Choi San chose to be with you despite having thousands of fans who are trying to get his slightest attention.

You messed up your hair in frustration and went to get ready for the day. The outfit he chose yesterday was lying on the bed staring back at you. You shut your eyes, imagining his bright pink hair and smiling face. “I can do this!” You pumped both your fist mid-air, trying to be positive even when there’s still doubt everything would work out fine.

After getting ready and eating breakfast, you checked your phone and the number of notifications were crazy. There were numerous updates from his fansites.

They were already at the venue and some photos of him were uploaded on social media. You scrolled through the comments and found yourself slowly frowning.

‘Is he okay?’

‘I guess he’s tired from all their recent schedule.’

‘I hope they get a good rest after this event.’

Wow, it really felt like the world was against you right now. Shaking your head from all the negative thoughts, you went to wear your shoes before going out and claiming back your boyfriend’s heart.

To be honest, you were scared of meeting him in person at an official event with your current state. This was the first event you’ve ever attended since the previous ones either clashed with your schedule or like today, were scared to come.

The venue was medium sized but totally packed with fans. You weren’t good with crowds and the number of people attending made you nervous. It was obvious that your relationship was a secret, none of these people would know the cause of their favourite Choi San frowning was all thanks to your dumb self. So much for a surprise.

The event started with them greeting everyone and a bit of fan service here and there. You were watching at your seat, back of the hall with eyes fixated on one person. He was smiling but it never reached his eyes and laughter that sounded forced. He still interacted with the fans but you could tell he wasn’t himself. Then, it was time for the signing event to start. The staff ushered everyone to the side of the hall and made sure the line moved at a smooth pace.

You watched each member take their place at the table and it was really your luck that day. San was seated at the very end, playing with the marker in hand and looking at nothing in particular. It was as if he was trying to find you among the many attendants but that was what you wanted to think.

It felt like forever till it was your turn to walk up the stage and when you did, your hands turned sweaty and cold. Hongjoong saw you and had a smirk on his face, it’s like he’s about to welcome you to hell. You crouched down and watched him sign on your album.

“What a surprise to see you here.” You smiled at him not daring to utter a single word. As you were about to take the album away, he held on it tighter. “I better see him smiling again, you get me?” “Yes sir.” You pursed your lips and gave a flower to him.

“I know it's fake, just take it.” He shook his head and gave the album back to you. One down, six more to go before the real deal is right in front of you. At this point, you had a feeling all of them knew that something happened between the both of you. You wanted to wipe the smug looks on their faces so badly but came to your senses that it was an event. All of them got the fake flowers as well and the fact they shared knowing looks among themselves irked you. As if saying ‘look at her trying to win her boyfriend back by giving us this.’

As you moved from Wooyoung to San, your head was hung so low that he didn’t even notice it was you. Not until he asked for your name and you looked up that the look on his face was beyond shock. He leaned back a bit and narrowed his eyes at you. “San, I’m sorry about yesterday. Please don’t be mad.” Your fingers curled at the edge of the table as you leaned your head on the table trying to get a closer look at his face.

He quietly signed your album and wrote something on a small sticky note. He shut your album and passed it back to you. “Are you not going to say anything to me? This was supposed to be a surprise but I messed up. I’m sorry.” Your eyes locked with him and he shook his head. The fans would think he was acting cute or being playful when he’s actually upset. “Fine then. This is for you.” You stood up and placed the crown on his head.

“How come he gets a crown?!” Wooyoung said in disbelief as he pointed at San’s head. “He’s the King of my heart, that’s why.” San had to fight the urge to smile and instead pushed Wooyoung who pretended to barf at your confession. The fan in front of him even laughed at his actions. You gave one last look at him before going down to your seat. Somehow, you felt as if his eyes were following you.

Right after the event, you were still at the venue, scrolling through updates of the event. There was even a video of Wooyoung being dramatic about the crown you brought for San, and the comments seemed to be better than earlier.

Everyone was glad that he was smiling naturally and actually looked relaxed. You didn’t feel like going back yet and decided to search for that sticky note San placed in your album.

- I’m not going to hold back tonight -

Your eyes widen at the written words and swiftly shut the album back, looking around you just in case there were people nearby. With flushed cheeks, you placed the album back in your bag and started leaving the venue. Head filled with nothing but your boyfriend, Choi San.

[polnareffenjoyer]

Uh unsure how many characters you’re willing to write for but can I have the SDC crew reacting to seeing their crush’s sketchbook filled with drawings and silly comics of them? On the case you do have a limit on how many, then I’m fine with either Polnareff, Kakoyin, Jotaro or Avdol (who can pick whoever if you want to!) Hope you’re having a lovely day!💕💕

This is such a cute idea anon, hope you like it. Also I don't really have a character limit, I wanted to do all of the crusaders but then I got tired and it already took me such a long time to finish it and ahhh. Sorry for all the grammatical errors, English is not my first language and it's already so late when I'm finishing it and it's just bleh. I hope you like it anyways, sending much love to you anon! ♥️

Stardust Crusaders finding their crushes' sketchbook

Jotaro Kujo

He notices that you've been spending most of your free time drawing in that sketchbook of yours. Truth be told, it bothers him a lot. Jotaro has had a big fat crush on you for a while now, and he secretly longs for your company. He can't admit that tho, he has a hard ass bad boy reputation to maintain after all. What would people say if the saw him all flustered for a girl? The fact that you would rather sit by yourself and draw than be around him and the others bugs him. So one day, when you're busy with something else, he takes your beloved sketchbook and decides to see what's in there. He knows he's being creepy, but he couldn't care less. Just trying to get to know you better, without actually talking to you. Exactly.

He's very flustered but would rather die than admit it. Has read through all of it, admiring every single little drawing. After he's done, he'll just put it back where he found it, it the exact same place just so you don't notice someone has been messing with it. You probably have no idea he had seen your sketchbook at first, but you surely notice the blush dusting his cheeks whenever he speaks to you from that day on. Probably avoids you for a little while because he's so flustered.

The rest of the crew also notices something is off, Jotaro is always lost in thoughts and smokes more frequently. He can't keep himself from thinking about those cute drawings of yours, reading through your comics was a true delight. It fills him with glee to know that HE, among all of the crusaders, is the one who's the main character in your stories. It makes him giddy on the inside.

His secret eventually comes to light one night, he accidentally admits to having read through your comics while a late night talk between the whole group. While you were talking, Kakyoin had brought up the topic of your sketchbook. Now it's your turn to be embarassed, blushing crimson while trying to get as much information out of him as possible. How much did he see? Did he read through ALL OF THEM?

The rest of the crusaders are shocked at first, but quickly they start to laugh at the scene. Jotaro is reluctant to give any information, but he eventually tells you that yes, indeed, he's seen EVERYTHING. However, doesn't admit what the content of the sketchbook really is. Despite everything, he would never embarass you like that.

After everyone goes to sleep, you catch Jotaro before he has a chance to fall asleep, lying on his sleeping bag while looking at the night sky. You want to apologize, say anything, just to talk to him, but you're unable to find right words. He just sighs.

"Yare yare daze, there's no need to be embarassed [Y/N], I'm not mad"

Your eyes light up at his words. You want to say something, anything, thank him, but before you get a chance to do so, Jotaro's deep voice cuts you off.

"To be honest, I think your drawings are amazing. I really liked them" you notice his face is slightly tinted red from underneath his cap "But if you wanted me to model for you, you could've just said so"

With that, he rolls over and away from you. Completely baboozled, you roll over as well and try to sleep, or at least pretend to be asleep. Honestly, neither of you had slept much that night.

Kakyoin Noriaki

Kakyoin had a thing for you since you joined the crusaders, and your sketchbook is probably the very first thing he had noticed about you. He's always been interested in art, his parents had signed him up to numerous art courses and whatnot through his life. He's always loved drawing and painting, using it as an escape from his daily problems, and seeing that you two might have something in common makes him incredibly happy, especially since he has feelings for you.

He'll try to approach you about your sketchbook very subtely, afraid that he might scare you away by being too pushy. Of course you get extremely flustered everytime he brings it up, but it doesn't discourage him. Kakyoin respects your boundaries and understands that you might not be ready to show him your drawings yet. Despite that, he's always willing to share his knowledge with you. He'll give you advices about proper shading while you two are waiting in the hotel lobby for the rest of the group to finish up picking rooms. During a long car ride, he'll talk to you about his favourite artists. If you want him to show you how to put certain shading techniques into practice, he'll be more than happy to do so. He'll just pick a random piece of paper and start drawing on it, you might want to lean in closer and maybe put your head on his shoulder to get a better look? He has no objections! Just sayin.

When he eventually gets to see your sketchbook, this man is so honored! He didn't mean to look, at first he though it was just some book lying around and wanted to take a look inside, out off boredom. Once he realizes what he's reading at, his face flushes with crimson. Your sketchbook is filled with sketches of him? This whole time you were actually drawing him, out of all people? He couldn't be more grateful that no one else was around, if someone saw him reading through your comics with this stupid smile on his face and red cheeks, they would've though he went mad.

Kakyoin wastes no time trying to find you. For a moment, he thinks that perhaps he should've waited a bit, just to get you alone and not embarass you infront of the whole crew. He can't think straight though, his mind filled with your cute little drawings, with his face drawn with black pen over and over again. With glee, he notes that you had used the very techniques he had told you about earlier. If you had drawn him so many times, does it mean that you have a crush on him too? It's too good to be true.

"[Y/N]! Can I talk with you for a minute?"

He goes to confront you immediately. Others give him a puzzled look, but he couldn't care less. He grabs your arms and leads you away.

"Don't be mad [Y/N], but I've seen your sketchbook and I have to say, I think your art is beyond amazing!"

You're at loss of words, your face red and you could swear that you've never felt so embarassed in your whole entire life. However, his reaction is making you feel a bit better. He's not mad, nor is he making fun of you. If anything, he seems enamoured.

"Please, [Y/N], we should draw together! Maybe next time we have a chance, I should paint your portrait?"

Despite the awkwardness, the whole situation turns out amazing in the end. How he's sure you must have feelings for him, and it makes him incredibly happy, hoping that one day, after your crusade is done, he'll get a chance to repay you and make that promised portrait.

Muhammad Avdol

With everything that's been happening lately, Avdol gets a little bit distracted from you. Before he would steal glances your way all the time, watching with curiosity as you would draw something in your sketchbook. Recently, he's been too busy fighting enemy stand users and... well, trying not to die. He still cares about you a lot and watches over you during fights, ready to shield you from danger with his own body, if it's what it takes to keep you safe.

It probably happens because of a mishap. While you are deciding on your rooming, you leave your sketchbook lying next to Avdol's things and go to the bathroom. After he's done helping Joseph with translating and getting everything done, he goes back and assumes that it's just one of his books that has fallen out of the bag. Not thinking much of it, he picks it up and leaves with Mrs Joestar to settle in their shared room.

You can imagine the panic and shock that nearly paralyzes you once you notice that your beloved sketchbook is gone, nowhere to be seen, reduced to atoms! You begin to look around frantically, looking under the furniture while sweating profusely. Other quests give you weird looks, but you don't even notice them staring. Polnareff is one of them, he asks if you're okay and tries to calm you down, but to no avail. After he leaves, you try to focus really hard and try to remember - when did you see it last time? It was on that chair for sure when you left. God, you can only pray that it doesn't end up in Avdol's hands somehow...

Meanwhile, Avdol is getting ready for shower and goes through his bag. He notices the book he picked up from the lobby isn't even a book, but a sketchbook! Now he's sure he must've picked it up by mistake, he decides it would be best to put it down and not look through it. It's someone's very personal art after all, it would be very disrespectful to - wait a damn minute, is that HIM?

Long story short, he goes through a good portion of your drawings before Joseph comes out of the shower and gives him a puzzled look, seeing how his eyes are literally shinning with adoration. He puts your sketchbook back into his bag, acting as if nothing happened and continues on with his nightly routine. Later on, when Joseph is already fast asleep, he contemplates about whether or not he should go to your room right now and ask about the sketchbook he had found. He's already suspecting it's yours, whose else would it be? He has seen you drawing often, could it be that you returned his feelings and had spent your time sketching him? Ultimately, he decides to wait until tomorrow to find out.

The very next day, he knocks on your door early in the morning. It startles you awake, running up to your door to look through a peephole, seeing a muscular man on the other side. Sighing heavily, you unlock the door and open it just a little bit.

"Excuse my intrusion, [Y/N], but I have found something that I think belongs to you."

Now that's embarassing. You see your sketchbook in his hand, a wide, knowing smile on his face. He knows it's yours. All it took is one look at your stupid red face to figure it out. God, he can read you like an open book, can't he? While you reach out to take it from him, your fingers touch just slightly.

"Don't worry, I swear I won't tell anyone about this" she winked at you, which almost made you gasp "If anything, I think I should maybe pose for you in private? So you can get a better look? You should think about it..."

Who would've thought this man could be such a flirt sometimes...

Jean Pierre Polnareff

You better watch out, because if this man has a crush on you, you bet he would go above and beyond to find out what's inside that sketchbook. I'm not joking. He forgets what personal space is, he's even worse that Jotaro, because while JoJo would make sure to be sneaky, Polnareff wouldn't even bother. He'll try to catch a sneak peak by looking over your shoulder while you're drawing, constantly asking you questions about art related things, everything always leading to your sketchbook.

He wants to know what's inside. Simple as that. You're like an enigma to him, I feel like all women are mysteries to him and he always works towards finding out what their secrets are. You are especially interesting to him, because of how secretive you are with your art. He's captivated, and while he never had any interest in arts himself, he had always fancied himself as a man with a great sense of beauty. That being said, he's always trying to get your attention while talking about how "France is a wonderful country for artists! You should come and visit after our crusade is over, [Y/N]! I'll show you all the greatest museums and art galleries!"

He's like a puppy, following you around and being just a bit too pushy. If you tell him you feel uncomfortable, he'll back off of course. He's not just some juvenile pervert after all! He's a honourable man who would never touch or bother a woman without her permission, no matter how desperate he seems sometimes.

When he finally sees your sketchbook, it's probably because he did it on purpose and not because of an accident. He wanted to make sure that it was him your were capturing in your drawing, and boy was he happy when he saw what's inside! It's all him, cute little sketches, little comics, it's better that he could've ever imagined! He's literally crying the tears of joy while reading them. Before it was all just wishful thinking, but now it turns out to be true! He's honoured, admiring every single little drawing with hit tears streaming down his face. He must look pathetic right now, if anyone was around they would think the was a mad man. He gets up and runs away with your sketchbook in his hand, trying to find you.

"[Y/N]! Ma cherie! Mon coeur! My love, my life! We need to talk!"

Did i mention that he doesn't shy away from nicknames? Yeah.

It's probably the worst confrontation compared to the rest of them, he's not subtle like Kakyoin and decides to talk with you about your drawings right then and there, in front of everyone. At first they're surprised, looking at Polnareff as is he was crazy, but slowly their shock is replaced with amusement. Joseph doesn't even try to hold back his laughter, while the rest of the crew is trying to keep it cool as not to embarass you any further while the Frenchman is just going on and on with his declarations of undying love. It's a bit dramatic, one of these moments that you will probably laugh about in the future, but you felt like disappearing right then and there.

"Your drawing are magnifique! [Y/N], my love, if you wanted to draw me, you could've just said so! Although I don't think I deserve to be potrayed by you, to be drawn by your skilled hands, ma cherie!"

You snatch the sketchbook from him. After that incident you probably try to avoid him, but he won't give up! He's more determined than ever, knowing that you feel the same way as he does fills him with hope, hope for a future life with you that is! He won't give up until he makes you the happiest woman on earth.

[un-beel-ievable]

Obey Me! Headcanons - The Demon Brothers react to a MC who owns a golden retriever 🐕

Author’s note: I'm home :3 Feel free to reblog, but please do not repost!! If you enjoy my writing, do leave me a like and/or a comment (and follow me to see similar content in the future :D)!

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Lucifer ☕

• When your dog first bounds over to greet Lucifer, it’s difficult to tell if the eldest born is a fan of your four-legged pal or not. The Avatar of Pride scrutinizes the ball of fluff as if he were a judge on a dog show —all the while as your dog vibrates impatiently by the front door with a tennis ball in its mouth. Perhaps it senses the need to be on its best behaviour if it’s to impress Lucifer.

• “A pet is a responsibility, not a novelty. I sincerely hope that you thought long and hard about the obligations of a pet owner before you went ahead with your decision to adopt. That being said, you appear to be doing quite well with your four-legged companion —they’re very well behaved. I have absolutely no qualms with you taking over Cerberus’s care when you return to the House of Lamentation; clearly you’d manage much more elegantly than my brothers. Perhaps Cerberus would enjoy the company of your charming pooch as well…”

• So Lucifer does like your dog. Not an entirely surprising revelation, if you’ve seen how he behaves around Cerberus in private. The strict no-nonsense archdemon turns into the softest dog owner that you’d ever have the pleasure of meeting; he’s all ear scritches and belly rubs. By the end of his visit, your dog is blissfully rolling on the carpet by Lucifer’s feet as the Avatar of Pride informs it over and over again that it is indeed “a good dog”.

• Perhaps you’ll even catch the small —but genuine— smile twitching at the corners of Lucifer’s lips as he does so.

Mammon 💳:

• In hindsight, perhaps giving Mammon a heads up about the presence of your pooch would have been a good idea.

• Despite your numerous attempts to reassure Mammon that the furry ball of enthusiasm barreling towards him is a Good Dog™, the terrified shriek that escapes the Avatar of Greed is shrill and ear-splitting enough to shatter your windows (Metaphorically speaking, of course. Rest assured, no windows were harmed in the writing of this headcanon.). When your dog leaps at him to nudge its head into his hand for scritches™ and headpats™, Mammon’s life flashes before his eyes. The only image that he can bring to mind before he passes out cold on your carpet is Cerberus’s terrifying snarl.

• When Mammon comes to, your dog is sitting on his chest —looking concerned and suitably chastised for accidentally scaring the living daylights out of the demon. (Even though Mammon refuses to come clean about how terrified he was. “The great Mammon? Afraid of a lil’ dog? W-What...What are ya talkin’ about? I wasn’t scared!”) The events that occurred over the last couple of minutes play on a loop in Mammon's mind. It finally dawns on him that your dog isn’t the ferocious beast that his imagination had conjured up, and his cheeks flush scarlet.

• Please give your demon a hug. I think he needs one. Or several.

Leviathan ����:

• If Leviathan had a pet ranking system, Henry 1.0 and Henry 2.0 would always claim the highest spots possible —the S-tiered, 5-star gods of the pet world. No golden retriever could ever worm its way to the top and snatch his love for them from under his feet. Sorry. But your dog is pretty cute, he’ll give you that.

• Too cute, maybe. Hey...um...you don’t love your dog more than you love him, right? What? Him, the Avatar of Envy, jealous? No! Of course not! Why would you make such an outrageous assumption? He’s not jealous —an adorable fluff ball of enthusiasm for the outdoors and joy is a way better than an icky otaku, after all. Leviathan doesn’t blame you for choosing your dog over him. Any sane individual would do the same...

• When you finally manage to reassure your demon that your dog is in no way competition for the affection that you hold for him, —he’ll always be your favourite demon, even if you have a dog. Even if you have a hundred dogs. Nothing is going to change that— he begins looking at your pooch in a different light. That’s right —as a potential cosplay partner. There’s this new anime that’s been released recently...Levi was wondering if you had heard of it? It’s titled: My Partner Is The Proud Owner Of A Golden Retriever And I’m An Otaku Who Enjoys The Simple Pleasure Of Collecting Merchandise and Cosplaying. One of the main characters happens to own a golden retriever as well, and if you’re willing to give him your blessing (the irony, I know), perhaps you’d lend him your pooch for an afternoon of cosplay and photography?

Satan 📚:

• Satan is a cultured demon who enjoys the company of four-legged companions, but he’s admittedly a fan of felines...not canines. Still, he prides himself on keeping an open mind towards new experiences, so he agrees to spend an afternoon with you and your dog (Even though he’d much rather be attending the opening day ceremony of the Devildom’s newest cat cafe. The things he does for love.).

• He performs some through research before meeting your dog for the first time; spending afternoon after afternoon in the sanctuary of his room reading about dogs and how to care for them. No number of books could prepare him for the real thing, however. When Satan first comes over to spend the afternoon in your home, he’s stiff and awkward —unsure of what to do with a dog. He ends up spending the first hour on your couch, sipping tea and spouting facts about golden retrievers.

• Show him the rope that your dog enjoys playing tug-of-war with, or the tennis ball that it insists on carrying in its jaws everywhere it goes. It takes a while for Satan to warm up to your pooch, but he’ll gradually learn to love —or at the very least, tolerate— your canine companion, even though he still firmly believes in the superiority of cats. Speaking of which, you’d accompany him on a date to that new cat cafe, right?

Asmodeus 💋:

• Oh! Your golden retriever is absolutely adorable! And gorgeous too —albeit not as beautiful as him, but that’s to be expected. There’s not a single individual in all of the three realms that could match up to his beauty. And your dog has such luscious fur too...dear Diavolo, he’d kill to have a haircare routine that’s as effective on his locks.

• Would you be willing to take a photo of him posing with your pooch? It’s for his Devilgram followers, of course —such beauty must be shared with the world, no? You’re not entirely sure if Asmo’s referring to his beauty, your dog’s beauty, or the shared, collective beauty of him and your dog. It doesn’t particularly matter. The two (three?) of you end up spending the entire afternoon orchestrating an impromptu photoshoot, and then spending the evening editing the photographs from said shoot for Devilgram.

• Generally gets along with your four-legged companion like a house on fire. There’s just one, itsy-bitsy issue.

• Your dog sheds. A ton. No matter how often you brush its fur, or how many boundaries you set about it not being allowed on the furniture, it seems determined to shed every carpet, sofa and bed that you own. Asmo never stops whining about the copious amounts of fur that now decorate every article of clothing he owns, but at least your dog seems happy to be able to leave its mark —on Asmo’s ensembles, of course, but also his heart.

Beelzebub 🍔:

• Corporate has asked you to find the difference between this picture and this picture—

• Asmo gets along well with your dog. Beel gets along with your dog even better. As one of the few only brothers who’s willing to spend any amount of time with Cerberus (granted, most of the time he’s only doing so because he’s been promised free food), Beel has grown into quite the dog lover. Your dog seems thrilled to be in the company of someone who appears to wholeheartedly enjoy its company —your dog is thrilled by the company of anyone who’s willing to give it their time of day, but still— and Beelzebub is thrilled to be in the company of a four-legged companion who appears to wholeheartedly enjoy his company. Beel is happy to spend whole afternoons playing with your dog...interspaced with the occasional snack break, of course.

• Speaking of which, Beel very much struggles with not giving into your golden retriever’s extremely convincing puppy dog eyes. Objectively, he knows that giving your dog human (or demon) food is a terrible idea —the last thing he wants is to be the reason that your dog has to take a trip to the vet. But your dog is so cute! And it’s looking at his food with such an intense longing in its eyes...Beel can relate to that. Surely a little nibble wouldn’t hurt…

• When you find yourself having to tell Beel off, suddenly you find yourself at the receiving end of 2 sets of puppy dog eyes; both Beel and your pupper are very sorry. They swear it’ll never happen again! Please don’t be upset…

• How are you supposed to stay mad at them?

Belphegor 🛏:

• ...listen.

• It’s not that he hates dogs. Honestly! He likes dogs as much as the next demon! But they can be loud and yappy and so incredibly energetic, and your golden retriever is more hyper than most. It always wants to go on walks, or play fetch, or make him throw its favourite tennis ball over and over again but refuse to hand it over so he has to engage in a slobbery game of tug-of-war to steal the ball from it —it’s just too much for the Avatar of Sloth. Just watching your dog zip across the room in a display of its endless amounts of energy is enough to tire Belphie out...is playtime over yet? He just wants to take a nap.

• Makes multiple attempts to talk you into allowing Beel to look after your dog. Just for an afternoon! His twin certainly has the energy to keep your hyperactive pup entertained for the whole day, and since you can be assured that your dog is well taken care of, perhaps the two of you could finally stay inside for once and take a nice, long nap. It’s been too long since he’s gotten to hold you in his arms…

• By the time Beel returns your dog to you, it’s all tuckered out from its day of adventures. As you’re thanking Beel for looking after your dog for the day, you catch him chuckling softly at something over your shoulder —Belphie and your furry friend, dozing off together on the couch. They appear to finally be getting along.

BONUS: I'm still not terribly comfortable with adding the (former) undatables to my writing repertoire, but my partner happens to be very fond of the demon butler...and I happen to be very fond of them. So just this once, just to see how it goes...

Barbatos 🍵:

• Oh? So this is the sweet bundle of fur that he’s heard so much about. It’s a pleasure to meet them at long last. Barbatos has always been fond of dogs, and your dog is quite an endearing creature to say the least...it actually reminds Barbatos of Cerberus when he was a puppy. How time flies.

• Treats your dog as if it were an esteemed guest of the castle. As long as Barbatos is around, you needn’t lift a finger when it comes to the care of your beloved pet. Keeping your dog fed and watered? Barbatos has it covered; the butler seems to have an in built in timer when it comes to feeding your dog —Barbatos serves its meals at exactly 6 in the morning and 6 in the evening. Not a minute early, not a minute late. When taking your dog out on walks, he carries a spare bottle of water for the sole purpose of offering it to your dog if it gets thirsty. Speaking of walks...Barbatos is more than happy to escort your pooch on walks in the event that you’re unavailable to do so yourself. Barbatos generally allows your golden to lead the way on their excursions, and is content with following along behind it to keep it out of trouble for however long it wishes to remain outdoors. If it were to tire itself out, Barbatos takes your dog into his arms and carries it the rest of the way home.

• Your pooch becomes very spoiled very quickly. It’s unclear if you’ve gained a butler...or if your dog has.

[sslow-dancer]

“You Need Some Help?” (Josuke Higashikata x Reader)

Warnings: none!

tags: gender-neutral, gender-inclusive, josuke x reader, sfw, fluff, new school, new kid

Description: It’s your first day at Budogaoka High, Josuke notices your confusion and agrees to show you around the school. Along the way, he introduces you to his friends and decide to hang out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walk down the streets of Morioh, doing your best not to get distracted by the numerous signs of shops you pass by. Your knees occasionally hitting the new school bag you have in your hands.

It was a new town, new school, new people to you and your family. However, despite having to create new (probably awkward) introductions in this town, your parents seemed extremely happy when you all arrived. Going from living in Osaka all the way to Morioh was a drastic change. Osaka was constantly loud and full of tourists, you almost felt like you saw more foreigners than Japanese citizens. Though, you still miss those loud noises and tourists in a way. Morioh is quiet, receives visitors in the warmer seasons and rather friendly for the most part, making your parents even more excited when you moved there.

You look at the time on your watch, it reads, 8:00AM. You sigh stopping in the middle of the sidewalk, meeting the entrance of the school. Your eyes dart at the multiple groups of boys and girls around your age laughing and communicating with their friends as they enter and hang out around the school. You bite your lip, scanning around to see if there’s anyone who can help you navigate the school. Gosh, I don’t want to be late! you think.

“You need some help?” A curious deep voice asks behind you. Your eyes widen, a little startled at this person’s sudden question. You turn around, you’re in aww when you perceive the person in front of you.

The person is a boy of around 6-foot height, his hair in a 1950s-like pompadour, a chiseled face, sapphire eyes and is wearing a uniquely decorated school uniform. You almost blush at his rather handsome appearance, but you manage to stop yourself from doing so. You stutter,

“y-yeah. I do. I’m uh- new here.” you laugh slightly, hoping he doesn’t point out your nervousness. Though to your surprise, he only replies politely with a kind smile on his face,

“Oh okay well, I can show you around-“

“Thank you so much-“

“but first, I’d like to know your name.”

You cringe at your rudeness of interrupting him, you clear your throat, ready to give him your name and your sincere apology,

“I apologize for interrupting your words but um, my name is L/N F/N. I go by my first name. It’s very nice to meet you.” you immediately bow after you’re done answering.

“Higashikata Josuke, nice to meet you.” he says with a bow back. Josuke smiles when he sees you nervously kicking at the pebbles on the ground. ‘They’re kind of cute’ he thinks. He breaks the silence,

“Now that that’s done, let me show you around. We got time for most of the school, I think.” He leads you to the entrance, you follow next to him as you both walk up the steps. He stops abruptly, his eyes scanning around the schoolyard,

“That’s weird...”

“What’s wrong?”

“Well my friends usually meet me around this time so we can go to class together, but they’re somehow not here yet. Huh, weird.” You bite your lip, he lets out a sigh,

“It’s whatever, I’ll just see them later. Let’s go. I don’t wanna be responsible for you being late on the first day. Come on.” He waves you over to show you around the first floor. You nod, placing your bag over your shoulder as you follow him in.

Though the school is large, Josuke managed to explain the different sections and hallways pretty well. You were impressed at how the map wasn’t very useful. He’s nice enough to lead you to your first home room class.

“So basically this is it, here’s your room and hopefully you remember your way around after.” You chuckle at his statement. You point,

“You aren’t part of 1A?”

“Oh no, I’m part of 1B but it’s not far from here. If ya want, I can wait outside for you once class is over.”

“Oh no! That’s alright, thank you though. I think I’ll be fine.” You chime, smiling at him. Josuke smiles, he waves at you,

“Well I’m off, I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah!”

And with that, the bell rings and you’re off to first period.

~ Time Skip ~

You practically sprint out of your seat once dismissal arrives. You were rather hungry despite having lunch earlier, the bento your mother prepared you that morning didn’t fill you up. You rush out the class to avoid getting pushed by multiple students gathering outside the schoolyard to walk home, get picked up and wait for the bus. You’re surprised to hear your name get called out once you’re close to the gates,

“Hey! Hey! Wait up!”

You turn around to see Josuke, his body pressed against the front doors stairs’ railing with 2 other guys standing next to him. They both turn their heads to look at you, one of them slightly taller than the other. He waves again to get you to come closer,

You blink, walking back towards their direction. He smiles when you meet face to face, he holds his hand out to them,

“These are my friends, Okuyasu and Koichi. Okuyasu, Koichi, this is Y/N.”

You blush, you aren’t one to be introduced to people, you’re usually the one introducing yourself. The slightly shorter one, Koichi, smiles and nods at you,

“It’s very nice to meet you. Josuke was just telling us about you!”

You nod, blushing even more at the fact that you were even worth speaking about. Okuyasu furrows his eyebrows, putting his hands in his pockets as he looks you up and down,

“Huh, you are pretty cute-“ Koichi nudges his arm harshly, Okuyasu lets out an “ow” and frowns as he backs up from you.

You giggle, “it’s okay Koichi,” you turn to Okuyasu and nod, “I bet he meant no harm.”

Josuke rubs at his neck, waiting for the slightly awkward introduction to end. You look behind you and sigh,

“I gotta go. It was lovely meeting you all but I’m really hungry and need to get back home-“

“You’re hungry? Well actually, we were just about to get some lunch together at that new Italian place that just opened. You wanna come?” Josuke asks curiously.

You bite your lip, looking at your watch. You let out deep breath and nod. ‘Josuke did ask so nicely so.. why not?’ you think.

You all decide to walk down to the restaurant. You make quick conversation with Okuyasu and Koichi. Josuke walks next to you, keeping quiet. He takes a few quick glances at you, wanting to speak but getting too shy to do so.

You are met with the friendly welcome of the main and only chef, Tonio. You learn that he’s originally from Italy and opened his restaurant in hopes of bringing people health and happiness with the help of his dishes.

You all spend around an hour there, talking and laughing as Tonio prepares the courses for you all. You are surprised when you learn about the bizarre things that happens to one’s body when one eats his meals. You about threw up when you gobbled up the pasta that Tonio claimed would help your sudden stomach pains. You were almost scared that he was trying to hurt you and that Josuke and his friends played you but luckily, that was not the case and definitely not something you’d expect out of the boys you met.

Josuke slightly glares at Okuyasu as he tries to continuously flirt at you. He didn’t know why he felt a sense of frustration but he did know that he wanted to speak to you. Perhaps it was jealousy? Though Josuke didn’t want to take that into consideration.

You wave a goodbye to Tonio, smiling as you think about how much you’re going to tell your parents about this place. You let out an exaggerated sigh of satisfaction as the four of you exit the restaurant. You jump excitedly,

“That was so fun! Thanks for inviting me guys.” You say with a huge grin on your face. You didn’t know you’d open up this fast but in a way, you were glad that you did.

“Sure! We’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Koichi says, waving at you. Okuyasu walks next to Koichi, waving too “you stay cute, alright?”

You giggle nodding, waving as you watch them walk down the sidewalk. You turn to Josuke,

“Hey, aren’t you going down with them? Oku told me your neighbors.”

“Yeah but um.. I was hoping I could walk you home..”

Your eyes widen, his suggestion making your heart flutter. Josuke laughs nervously,

“That’s unless you don’t want me to! I just thought ‘cause it can be a bit dangerous to walk around this late especially when you’re new in town and I-“

You cut him off, “I’d love if you did that. Thank you.”

It’s Josuke’s turn for his heart to flutter. He was beginning to think that he liked you, but not so much in a friend kind of way. But then again, he had just met you so he didn’t know why he was acting so shy.

You lead him to your house, which was luckily not to far from Tonio’s place. The walk was fairly quiet, but not awkward at all. You enjoyed the silence shared between you two. You stop in your tracks, facing him,

“Well, this is it. Thank you again, I wish for your walk to be safe too.” You say to him, he smiles. God his smile is so cute, you think. Wait, what? Why am I thinking that?

Josuke sighs “yeah, thank you.” You notice the quietness in his voice, you chime,

“Hey, you alright? You didn’t talk much when we were with Koichi and Okuyasu.”

“I’m fine...I’m just-“

You nod for him to continue, he sighs,

“I- I wanted to ask if you’d like to hang out with me alone sometime after school this week? I wanna get to know you better...”

You blush at this. You look down at your feet, biting your lip as you think about hanging out with him. Well he is pretty cute...

“Again, if you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too! I’m not gonna force you or anything-“

You giggle at his nervousness, you nudge at his shoulder,

“Quit trying to take everything back. Of course I’ll hang out with you. After school, right?”

Josuke is taken aback by your confidence, but he manages to nod. You smile,

“Imma go. I’ll see you tomorrow?” You say, walking up to the front door. He nods again.

Josuke blushes hard once you’re out of his sight. He mentally beats himself up for being awkward as he walks back to his house. Though after a while, he manages to crack a smile once he realizes he was still able to ask you out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Hi! So I’m back :P

[haztory]

𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. (1)

--iwaizumi hajime x f!reader; fake/pretend dating, mutual pining, third year characters, confident/no-nonsense reader, puppet master oikawa, ocassional cursing, other than that no warnings!

--summary: Iwaizumi Hajime was more than content to not be at the receiving end of the hordes of fangirl's attention. 

But when they all suddenly devote their time and love to him, he can't help but quickly want an out. It's Oikawa's suggestion- a good one at that. Get a girlfriend to scare them off.

And what better than use you, Iwaizumi's best friend with a long standing crush on him, to play the role.

a/n: this is my first haikyuu fic! i did not expect it to be about iwa considering im a huge daichi simp, but that’s what listening to bubble pop electric by gwen stefani and browsing through pinterest does to the brain, ig. please let me know if any characters are too ooc, as im still trying to get them down.

other than that, enjoy! messages are always appreciated. 

(w.c. 4836)

masterlist | next chapter

Iwaizumi Hajime was hand sculpted by the gods, the entire female student body deduces with fanatic agreement one blessed afternoon. His shoulders are broad, skin rippling like waves breaking on rocks under the movement of his muscles. His stomach is firm and taut with the lining of his abs and his pectorals are considerably large enough to have every single girl in attendance foam at the mouth. And as he raises one— bulging — arm to wave sheepishly to the widened eyes of the crowd, his thick and veiny hand on full display, a collective moan is heard throughout the building. It has the poor boy ducking his head downward even further. 

The fundraiser arranged to cover the expenses of the volleyball team’s traveling to away games exceeded its initial goal (that of which the all-female led student council was greatly responsible for) resulting in the entire team parading themselves around the cafeteria as a reward for the students’ commitment to the task. 

Shirtless.

And while attention from the female population has usually always been paid to the star setter, Oikawa Tooru and all of his addicting charm, his absence in this mouthwatering and delectable ceremony has allowed for the ace and vice-captain of the Seijoh Volleyball Team to shine. Oh, and shine, he has. 

Within a mere five minutes, the fiercely devoted and militant fanclub belonging to Oikawa has suddenly converted— briefly, they insist— to the groupies of Seijoh’s Vice Captain: powerful ace, leader of offense, total hottie. 

The attention increases tenfold from that point on. Suddenly, Oikawa is no longer the only one receiving love confessions numerous times on a daily basis (much to his chagrin), but instead is sharing the spotlight with his best friend, who is more than uncomfortable with the unexpected shift in notice. He was never ecstatic at being labeled as ‘Oikawa’s number two’, adamant that he was his own entity despite the intricate intertwinement with his best friend, he was, in fact, totally fine with never being hounded by girls at every minute of the day. Sure, the attention would be nice, occasionally. 

But this? This is outrageous.

This is the tenth girl today to have stopped by his locker, a pink flush encompassing her face as she sticks her hands out to present something to Iwaizumi. It’s tupper ware, decorated in a pink bow with his name written in cursive on the top accompanied by some cute glitter stickers. That would make this the fourth container he’s received this morning, and as much as the whole act fills him with a deep dread and hesitation, he doesn’t have the heart to reject her gift. Especially when her hands are shaking so hard and she’s stuttering every other word out. 

So he puts on the standard smile, the one that he’s seen Oikawa pump out a hundred times a day but fails to meet in equal warmth and charm, and thanks her graciously and sincerely— even though he’s not that big a fan of milk bread and this is the third one he’s going to have to shove into his locker. 

He bows to her with an awkward smile, “Ah, thank you, uh…”

“H-Hina!” she shouts, her hands slapping upward towards her mouth after the outburst. The pink flushes deeper on her skin, and Iwaizumi has to wonder what exactly is going through the air for a girl to have this kind of reaction to him. He hasn’t changed, hasn’t developed a new attitude that should have girls swooning at his feet. He’s the same as always, stubbornly so. He is Iwaizumi Hajime, hardass, avid monster movie watcher and the usual second thought. He supposes he should feel somewhat elated at the long-awaited recognition, but he can’t shake off the feeling that this is all incredibly unwarranted. 

It's a surface value attraction. They're not really swooning for him, just the idea of him. That stings a bit more than he’d like to admit.

“Hina,” he affirms with a gentle nod, bowing his head in gratitude, “Thank you for the treat. I will, uh, treasure every bite.”

He doesn’t mean it to be anything charming (because he’s not) nor even remotely romantic (because it’s not), it’s just what he comes up with at the top of his head, but Hina starts to shake and a watery smile spreads across her face when she hears it and he knows he’s made this whole thing much worse. Before he can even awkwardly ask if she’s alright, she bows hurriedly again before running off with a shriek. 

It's then that he’s sure Oikawa is one sadistic motherfucker because there is no way anyone mentally sane could take that reaction as a compliment. There’s an intense guilt that settles in his stomach for the rest of the day for causing a girl to tremble like that. 

Curse the student council for that stupid fundraiser award. He would much rather walk to every away game than have to go through another day of this. 

He opens his locker again, placing the container in there amongst all the other ones and the numerous handmade cards declaring affection. He closes it with a sigh. He can only hope that this phase of adoration is reaching its end. 

Quickly.

**

It does not end quickly. 

It's month three of endless confessions and Iwaizumi is about to lose his mind. Word spreads about his favorite kinds of teas and sweets (which he is sure Oikawa is directly responsible for) and his locker starts to resemble a mall kiosk more than any part of school property. The outside is decorated with stickers and taped with more love cards and he’s pretty sure someone found out his combination (again) because there are balloons floating out of it.

It's a circus. One that Mattsukawa and Hanamaki repeatedly laugh about every time they see it. 

He would like to indulge in the acts or at least make some kind of peace with the situation, he really would. He’s always fantasized in passing about the pride and specialty one must feel at being the center of female attention, having seen it and thwarted it first hand from Oikawa’s fans, but the longer this drags on the more fraudulent he starts to feel.

How can he enjoy his favorite foods when the girls giving it to him are blinded by a false idea of him? They’re not genuine, and if he accepted them, he would only feel like a bad guy, taking advantage of poor girls who haven’t got the slightest clue about him. Because Iwaizumi doesn’t have the million dollar smile like Oikawa does, nor does he have the oozing charm and commercial personality. 

He’s hard, and stubborn, and less inclined to entertain bullshit— the complete opposite of shitty-kawa. So whatever perception these girls think they have of Iwa, they’re wrong. and he can’t accept gifts from these girls who think they love him, when in reality, he’s the furthest thing from what they assume he is. 

“Why are you so adamant to believe that what they feel isn’t real? What's so ridiculous about liking you? Hmm?” Oikawa sings with a laugh one afternoon, the whole team crammed into the club room as they change out of their practice gear. the other guys snicker at Iwaizumi’s dismay, the usual frown painted on his face is permanently etched deeper into his skin and he knows they’re all getting a sick enjoyment from his torture.

The constant reliability to the chaos Oikawa brings is now subjected to his own taste of havoc. And he’s absolutely miserable. 

In all of his stubborn self-sufficiency, he’s refused to even indulge the guys with a verbal complaint, simply grumbling at the gifts before moving on with his day. Intent on dealing with this problem on his own and prohibiting himself from being a burden to anyone else. 

But he’s off his a-game in practice and the crease between his eyebrows is now a persistent feature on his face these days.

“Because it's not real,” he grunts, throwing his sweaty shirt into his sports bag, “They don’t like me.”

Hanamaki snorts from across the benches, a wide smile on his face as he unlaces his shoes and sings, “They only like him for his bodyyy.”

“Can you blame them? Who would ever like Iwa for his personality?” Matsukawa joins him in snickering, earning a killer glare from the victim in question. Not helping. They only laugh harder. 

“So what?” Oikawa questions amusedly, ignoring the sarcasm dripping from the other two third years, leaning his body against the lockers as he watches his best friend ripple with frustration. A constant sight these days.

“So what?” Iwaizumi turns to look at him, incredulity furrowing his features as his friends look at him like he’s grown a third head for being reasonably uncomfortable with this, “It's weird. They’re giving all of these nice gifts to a guy they barely know and they all look at me like a piece of meat.”

“God, girls objectifying you? The horror.” Mattsun torts again, earning a water bottle thrown at his face.

“So what?” Oikawa laughs again, the kind of laugh that reverberates around the room and rings a little too loudly in his ears. He’s heard this laugh thousands of times over the years, coming out to play when Oikawa is far too keen on putting Hajime as the butt of a joke. The mockery is clear in his voice, bleeding in the two simple words yet weighing like a hundred. He can usually take it, dish it back with equal fervor to his best friend, but this time around, he can’t. 

This whole mess of a situation sits heavily on his shoulders and for the first time, any attempt to just barrel through a problem like he so often does seems pointless to Hajime. Because no matter how much he ignores, no matter how often he declines, the girls will continue to only see Seijoh's ace. Not Iwaizumi Hajime. 

He sighs. He doesn’t know what he was expecting in venting to his friends. Validation if they were any nicer, but deep down he knew it would take a different trajectory. 

Maybe they’re right; Maybe he is blowing this out of proportion. Maybe he should just accept the gifts, enjoy them while he can because the girls are choosing to do it. They’re not being held against their will, nor is anyone really being hurt by these peculiar circumstances. It's, theoretically, a win-win.

It doesn’t stop the pit in his stomach from sinking even lower when he sees girls stop their chattering in the hallways as he passes. It doesn’t stop the overwhelming feeling of disappointment he feels when he notices they stare at his biceps before his face before dashing away. 

 Matsukawa shuts his own locker with a grumble, “Must be nice.”

“You wanna take my place, Issei?” iwaizumi turns to look over his shoulder, meeting the mischievous twinkle of the middle blocker. 

“Yeah man, I do. Girls at my feet everyday bringing me food? That’s every guy’s dream.”

“Yeah, if every guy was a piece of shit like you.” The words tumble without second thought and Hanamaki finds himself clutching his stomach with laughter at the retort. He doesn’t mean to direct his anger at his friend, but it seeps into his words anyways. He’s lucky they’re good enough sports to take it in stride. Even if the twinkle in Matsukawa’s eyes dims and he grumbles a “shut up” while he slaps the back of Hanamaki’s head. 

He knows a solution— or sympathy— won’t be offered in his venting, adamant that this is something he needs to solve on his own, but he can’t help himself. He just has to get it out. “I can't even go to class normally anymore. There’s always a girl waiting for me.”

His back is turned towards his friends as he folds his gym clothes into the open cubby, but even despite the absence of his facial expression, the other three sitting near him can hear the exhaustion in his voice. Much as they might tease him, they’ve sat front and center to the slow decline of Hajime’s sanity and comfort as he was thrust suddenly into the spotlight that he was ill-prepared for. He’s laughably out of his element, but his plight is severe enough for all three of them to occasionally step in.

Hanamaki and Mattsun have had their fair share of instances in which they’ve had to redirect of a horde of girls hounding at them for Iwaizumi’s location, telling them that they had no idea where Iwaizumi could have gone when in fact, he was hiding in the clubroom. And while they would’ve been more than happy to send them his way just to watch him fluster and stutter, the two friends knew the momentary laugh wouldn’t have been worth the further depletion of Hajime’s confidence and happiness. Iwaizumi wants this attention to be for something genuine, for something that he was directly responsible for and can be proud of. Not something as surface value as an attractive body. 

Truth be told, all three of Seijoh's third years want to help him as much as Iwaizumi wants this to be over. But just like him, they have no idea what to do.

Hajime sighs again, “Don’t even get me started about when I’m with (Y/N). You think stalking is bad? Try having to deal with evil glares too.”

Scratch that. They have one idea.

The mention of the ace’s other best friend, the one that they’re all too familiar with, has all of Seijoh's members perking their heads upward in interest. A lightbulb going off simultaneously as they all share a glance with one another. Hanamaki looks up to Oikawa who looks to Mattsun who looks to Hanamaki. Their eyes darting between one another, telepathically asking the same question.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Hanamaki and Mattsun finalize their answer with a hard stare at Oikawa and smirks on their faces. They both give a long nod to their captain and like the well-oiled machine the Seijoh Volleyball Team is known to be, a plan is formulated and put into action before anyone can blink. 

“Oh?” Oikawa prods, taking the initiative. His grin is suddenly more wicked than before, “How so?”

Iwaizumi notices the subtle change in tone in the conversation, can hear the smile in Oikawa’s words, but he doesn’t think much of it. Simply attributing it to the mention of the beloved figure they’re all acquainted with. He can’t blame them, finding his own mood has tipped upward at the mere thought of you. And while he has apologized to the moon and back for inadvertently getting you involved in this nightmare of a situation, there’s a resounding comfort he feels at knowing that there's at least one person on his side. One person that is willing to trudge through the mud with him, regardless of how often they complain.

Because whatever happens to him happens to you, you insist. So if he has to deal with a hundred fangirls, then so do you. 

He plows on, airing out his struggles and frustrations with his newfound attention. “They’re always staring at us, making the whole thing uncomfortable when we’re just hanging out. (Y/N) even told me she once got cornered in the girls’ bathroom during lunch.”

Oikawa gasps, always enthralled with any juicy gossip, especially on the rare occasion that it involves you— his beloved, headstrong, annoying other best friend. “What did they say?”

“Some weird shit about staying away from me, like I was their property.”

“And what did (y/n) say?”

Iwaizumi laughs, a genuine one that has been missing since this whole ordeal began. He turns to look at his friends, the smile reaching his eyes and pushing upwards on his cheeks. If they weren’t sure of their plan before, the happiness on his face was enough of a push to solidify it. The happiness that only someone specific can bring out. “It's (Y/N). What do you think she said?”

Oikawa, all too familiar with your personality and deviance from the norm since age ten, huffs out a laugh, “Hmm, let me guess, something about doing whatever she wants with whoever she wants.” 

“No, actually, she—” 

You’re washing your hands in the sink of the bathroom when you hear a cough from behind you. Looking upwards into the mirror, you are suddenly confronted with the reflection of six girls circling around you.

A groan tumbles out of your mouth. You knew something like this was bound to happen, jealousy always emerging victorious whenever girls were thirsting after a young man. You just didn’t think it would be happening so soon, only two months into the fanatic obsession with your best friend. It’s your fault really, you should’ve prepared for a moment like this to come. But as they all shoot daggers into your reflection you can’t help but recognize how woefully dreadful this is.  

You'd kill Hajime for inadvertently getting you into this if he wasn’t already feeling so guilty about it. 

Each one stares at you with an intense fury, and while you’ve never considered yourself to be much of a fighter, you’re mentally preparing yourself to throw a couple of punches in this cramped bathroom. You won’t win, six against one is hardly a story of triumph, but you’ll be damned if you get intimidated by this raging group of hormones. 

The faucet stops, with almost impeccable comedic timing, and a silence emanates throughout the area. It's awkward, painfully so and their silent stares are not helping.

“Uh… Can I help you?”

The one in the middle (the leader, you assume) stands with a hip jutted out and her arms crossed. You’ve seen her in passing before. Her eyes narrow at your question, “So, are you two dating?”

You have to force yourself to not roll your eyes. Of course this is where this was going. Because God forbid anyone have friends of the opposite gender. Indicator number one that the interest of these girls was superficial, considering if they even really had been interested in more than the prospect of having access to Iwaizumi’s body, they would’ve realized that you’ve been in his life for a lot longer than he’s had any redeeming qualities— including those rocking arms of his. 

You won't entertain this, something you’ve been adamant about even if Hajime has insisted you don’t , especially not when it's causing Iwa all this grief that you’ve had to comfort him through time and time again. 

“Who’s asking?” You all but bark back, patience wearing thin.

The one to the right of the leader— Pigtails, you’ve taken to calling her— scoffs and stomps her foot, “We are, obviously!”

Patience is below the ground now.

The left one, the one with pink hair, speaks this time, “Iwaizumi won’t even talk to us for more than a minute but he lets you hang around! So, if you’re not dating you have to tell us!”

“Why?”

“So that you can help us get closer to him!”

“Yeah, no.” you respond curtly, feeling rather nauseous at the lengths in which these girls are going just to get his attention. Cornering his friend and doing a piss-poor job at intimidating them into coercing them for information about him. No wonder Hajime's been feeling so depressed. 

Taking the piss out of him used to be fun, something you and Pikawa could share profound pleasure in, but now that it's at your front door and reeking of death, you’re quickly realizing just how much you owe that spiky haired idiot. 

You grab your bag that lay at your feet, turning to face the six girls with a mirthless smile despite the hatred burning in their eyes.

“Good luck with… whatever it is you’re trying to do.”

You’re almost out the door when the leader, who has puffed out her chest and taken a step forward  blurts out, “If you’re not going to help us, then you better stay out of our way.”

There are few people in this world that you’ve dreamt about punching. Oikawa has made the list a couple times, but that’s only when he’s being particularly obnoxious. Iwaizumi has too, usually when his hard headedness has conflicted with yours, but even then the situation is usually better within the next hour. 

But this girl, oh this girl, she has made the top of your list in record time. And you highly doubt she’s coming off of it anytime soon. And now that you’ve gotten a good look at her, you’re starting to remember exactly where you’ve seen her before.

You raise an eyebrow at her intimidation, “Or what?” 

(You have to pat your back for that one because you really sound like the scary third year you’ve always dreamt of being.)

She doesn’t falter in her misplaced confidence, a smile pulling at her lips, “If he’s not yours, then he’ll be one of ours soon enough. And I can promise you, every boyfriend I've ever had always dropped his girl best friends when I asked.”

“Uh huh,” you glance at your watch that shows there are only fifteen minutes left in lunch. Might as well start on your meal now.

You pull the backpack slung over your shoulder in front of you, unzipping the large pocket and pulling out a familiar container. The girls gasp when they see it. 

It's pink and has a little cat design on the front of it. Very cute and very distinct. You pop open the top, grabbing the milk bread that lies inside with your left hand and holding the lid and the box with your right. The lid is tilted forward, granting all the girls clear viewing of the cursive ink that lies on it.

The name is clear and the handwriting incredibly recognizable. The leader’s mouth gapes open.

You take a bite out of the treat, a dramatic moan escaping your mouth. You point at the girl, “Mm. You made this right?”

She doesn’t answer. None of them do. They only stare with wide eyes.

“I remember seeing you give this to Iwa this morning. It’s really good. He's not a big fan of milk bread, so he’s been giving them to me but I’ve enjoyed every single one of them! Although I am getting tired of eating the same thing over and over. So, if you’re taking suggestions, try Agedashi Dōfu. It's Iwa’s favorite.”

You lick your lips to make the point clearer. A gentle reminder of your place and their lack of one in his life. They seem to get it.

“Right then. Bye ladies! This was fun! I’m sure Hajime will be thrilled to hear all about it.”

Iwaizumi finishes recounting the story with a childlike wonder, meeting the furrowed brows and agape mouths of his friends with a joyous smile. There’s an unmistakable twinkle of affection in his eyes, one that he must not even realize is there. But it's noticeable, and his friends recognize it.

It's the same look he always gets whenever he talks about you. 

It was mean of you to humiliate those girls like that, he knows, but his smile when recounting the tale is more than indicative of his true feelings behind the action. He briefly lectured you about it after you told him, insisting that it was important to be nice to these poor girls who didn’t know any better, that you begrudgingly agreed to, but he thinks about it often. Thinks about it at practice, in the middle of class, and every time he sees you.

He didn’t know how he felt about it, but from the way it warmed his cheeks and filled his chest with a weird lightness, he knew he was ultimately appreciative of the action. Honored that you would stick up for him unapologetically and protect him from unassuming teenage girls.

It shouldn’t be much of a surprise. Were the roles reversed he would do the same for you in a heartbeat. But still, he thinks about it. A lot.

“I haven’t seen those girls since, but I have been getting a lot more Agedashi Dōfu, so I guess that’s a plus.” He shrugs his shoulders in nonchalance returning back to the contents of his locker but the remnants of a smile plays on his lips. 

“Well, how ‘bout that?” Oikawa coos. He steps closer to Iwa, placing his hands on the ace’s shoulders and giving them a good natured shake. 

“I think I have the perfect solution to your problem, Iwa-chan.”

**

“You want me chu do wha?” you ask, mouth full of milk bread as the boy in front of you conveniently avoids your eye contact. 

It's the seventh container he’s handed you this week, and while your little incident has quickly diminished the amount he usually receives, there are still the occasional stray containers with the sweet that he instinctively hands to you. 

This time it came in a purple container. No outlandish designs or stickers like the other ones, but there is a written poem on the top comparing his eyes to the dirt of the Miyagi mountains. You suppose that’s romantic, but your leniency only goes so far. Particularly when this poem has no clear rhyming pattern. 

You’ve long since passed the point of guilt for eating all of the treats that were clearly not meant for you. Hajime was much too conflicted with the gifts to even consider smelling them, so it serves as a solution to the problem to just give it to you. He doesn’t have to worry about maliciously taking advantage of these girls and you get food. 

Win-win.

And while you’re not that into milk bread (having eaten it almost everyday for the past couple of weeks), your consumption of it seems to give him some peace of mind. Out of sight, out of mind kind of thing. And really, that’s all you’ve ever wanted for him.

But this is going too far.

Swallowing the last piece of milk bread, you look up at the idiot from your place on the bench. He stands in front of you, hands shoved deep into his pockets and shuffling from foot to foot. 

“You’re joking, right?”

This is a joke. It has to be. There’s no way the world would be this cruel to you.

His eyes remain averted, his thumb and index finger pinching the bridge of his nose as if it would wake him up from this endless nightmare, “Look, it’ll only be until I can get these girls to back off of me a little.”

“No.”

“Wha— (Y/N).” He breathes out, a twinge of desperation and pleading seeping into his voice as he finally looks into your eyes. He doesn’t know what he expects to see, but the pure and unadulterated seriousness is not one of them. He’s almost convinced to drop the subject altogether. Almost.

“Whose idea was this?” You practically growl out, closing the container and cleaning your surrounding area of any stray crumbs. You thrust your hand outward, shoving the container his way. He takes it from you without question.

“Does it matter?”

“Whose?”

“...Oikawa.”

Of course it was. “I’m gonna kill him.”

“(Y/N),” he says your name more forcefully. It’s the same tone he uses with Oikawa when he’s being whiny. It's enough of a bite to have you stop rearranging your items for a brief moment, meeting his determined gaze with one of your own. He stares intently, eyes unwavering in their silent plea to make you understand.

That’s the worst part about it. He’s serious, and he’s confident that this is the only way to solve the problem that’s been plaguing him for the past three months. 

If there's one thing you know about Iwaizumi Hajime, it’s that he’ll solve any problem on his plate and won’t stop until it's fixed. He’s responsible to a fault, refusing to burden others unless absolutely necessary. The fact that he’s viewing this to be the only solution and actually trying to persuade you is indicative enough of how desperate he is. 

Even more so indicative of how truly fucked you are, considering you’ve already made a decision before he even explains further.

Damn him and that hard head of his. 

Damn Oikawa for knowing what he does and still dragging you into this mess. No doubt he was thoroughly enjoying this.

“Will you please be my girlfriend?”

Damn that student council and their stupid fundraiser for getting Iwaizumi Hajime, the boy you’ve been best friends with since you were ten and had a crush on since you were thirteen, to ask you to be his fake girlfriend in order to thwart off hordes of fangirls. 

Damn you for already having an answer before you can even think twice.

Iwaizumi Hajime was hand sculpted by the gods, and they were all laughing at your expense now. 

end notes: whoop there it is. let me know what you all think! should i keep going? should i say fuck a degree and major in iwazumi hajime? idk man im about to.

[stardusttrashed]

Lovestruck (4)

Part 3

Part 5

Pairing: Professor Erwin x Fem! Reader, Connie x Sasha

Word Count: 3K

“You even look pretty when you go to sleep,” Erwin praised under his breath, his voice filled with an early morning huskiness. He gently ran the back of his fingers along your cheek down to your jaw. “Just wan’ to stay home all day with you.”

“You better not play hooky, Mr. Smith,” you chuckled as he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Even if you kept your word.” You could feel him jump slightly at the sound of your voice, which only spurred your chuckles on further.

“Mornin’ darling,” Erwin mumbled against your forehead as he tried to play off the fact that your voice startled him. He slowly pulled away, just enough so he could look at you again. His heart fluttered in his chest as your eyes fluttered open. “H-how long have you been awake?”

“Long enough to hear you talk ‘bout how pretty I am when I sleep,” you cooed as you lazily played with his hair. You kept your focus on the blond strands that slipped through your fingers, too scared to meet his adoring gaze. It was a little overwhelming how he’d look at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel his ocean eyes committed to memorizing every little detail about you.

“Well, you are,” he smiled sheepishly. “You’re stunning when you’re asleep and when you’re awake.” He inched his hair closer to your hair, resting his palm on your cheek as his fingers grazed your hairline by your ear. “And I bet you’re stunning with your natural hair.” His eyes grew wide with worry, “n-not that your hair doesn’t look good now!”

“Who said this isn’t my natural hair Erwin Smith?” you asked with a teasing smirk on your lips. It was cute how interested he was in your hair. Even now, you could feel the mixture of eagerness and hesitance as his hand inched closer and closer to play with your hair. You leaned forward enough to let his fingers slide through your flat-ironed hair, watching his eyes twinkle with wonder.

“The way your wispies curl,” he smiled as his fingers took a break from running through your hair to play with your edges.

“My wispies,” you repeated him with a loving smile. “Wow, I-,” you stopped yourself with a chuckle. “I promise we can talk about my hair later,” you began to untangle yourself from him, making your way out of the bed, “after you’re done with work.”

A groan fell from Erwin’s lips as he followed your lead, clambering out of bed. “So, are you stayin’ here or going back to your place?” He wasn’t sure why referring to your place as your home felt so odd to him right now. It almost felt wrong, leaving a nasty taste in his mouth. He had no right to think this way. He knew that. It was just one night. And sure, he’s taken you out on plenty of hangouts that teetered on dates for the past month or so. Yeah, sure, he knew he was in love with you since the second hangout-like date. How could he not? But, there was no telling if you felt the same. You could’ve meant numerous things last night.

“You’re welcome to stay and keep Sina company,” he quickly tacked on, breaking free from his thoughts.

Your eyes followed him as he walked towards the bathroom, unapologetically checking him out the whole time. Sure, he looked good dressed up with those button-up shirts that clung to his muscles for dear life, but it was nothing compared to him now. Walking around with his hair disheveled, in nothing but his underwear, damn it was a sight. A sight that you wouldn’t mind seeing every morning and every night for the rest of your life.

“Was thinkin’ bout heading home. I can come back later, though,” you paused, taken off guard as he not so casually stopped in the bathroom doorway to stretch. “O-or you two can come over later,” you continued as you watched the way the muscles in his back tensed and flexed as his arms reached up towards the ceiling, just barely missing it.

Erwin looked over his shoulder at you with a devilish grin, “Well, before you abandon us, do you want to keep me company in the shower?” One of his eyebrows arched up in a playfully seductive way.

“Wow,” you chuckled as you shook your head, “abandoning you? Really ?”

With a slight shrug, a sheepish smile relaced his devilish grin, “what can I say? I enjoy being around you.” He strode across the room towards you. “Want to keep you around as much as I can,” he whispered under his breath as he scooped you into his arms without warning. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

There it was again, that quiet, smooth voice of his that you noticed would often interrupt his usually confident and collected voice. One moment he was the one causing the blushes, and the next, he’d revert to a friendly giant, blushing and stumbling over his words like a schoolboy.

You reached up to cup his cheek, your thumb grazing his flushed cheeks. There was an overwhelming sincerity in his eyes that left you flustered and wordless. “Erwin… you should hurry before you’re late for work.” You pressed your lips against his in a chaste kiss, “I’ll get my bag and join you in a bit, ‘kay?”

“You brought a bag?” Erwin asked with a half-cocky smile, tightening his grip around you. His cheeks were blazing, but it did little to soothe the overwhelming cockiness surging in his chest. You wanted to stay the night.

“Y-you’re stalling, lover boy,” you argued embarrassedly, pushing against his chest gently as you tried to get out of his arms. “Go shower before you’re late.” You raised your eyebrows at him, sending a warning look that Erwin ignored with a mischievous grin. “Erwin,” you exclaimed as he began carrying you towards the bathroom. “I need my clothes and tooth-.”

“-I have an extra toothbrush you can use. And you can wear one of my shirts,” he set you down on the counter.

“And a shower cap?” Erwin’s eyebrows bunched together in confusion, giving you all the answers you need. “Soo, I still need my bag,” you chuckled as you smoothed out the wrinkles in between his eyebrows with your thumb. “Gon ‘head and hop in,” you jumped off the counter, “be back in a min’. Hopefully, I packed one.” Before he could protest further, you skiped away towards the front door, the soft pitter-patter of feet following close behind. A ball of fluff brushed against your leg, desperately to stay close and figure out your destination. “Morning, sweetheart.” Sina yipped in reply, following you out to your car. You giggled softly as she poked her head into your car after you opened the door, sniffing around excitedly. “Come on, princess, daddy’s waiting on us.”

Locking the car behind you, you and Sina made your way back into the house and eventually back to Erwin’s room. “Wait here, sweetheart,” you told Sina before you closed the bathroom door.

The sound of Erwin’s quiet, baritone humming greeted you first, quickly followed by the steam drifting in the air. You plopped your bag down on the counter before rummaging through it. You searched and searched despite there only being four things in the bag, thinking maybe if you checked just one more time, it’d magically appear.

“Good news and bad news, babe,” you sighed in defeat, taking out your toothbrush and a pair of jeans you didn’t remember packing. “Bad news is I can’t join you in the shower,” you explained as you pulled on the pair of jeans. The childish whine that left Erwin brought a tender smile to your face. You prepped your toothbrush before continuing, “but, on the bright side, you can see me in your shirt still ‘cause I forgot to bring one.”

Erwin turned off the water with a dramatic sigh, “I guess my whole day is ruined now.” He couldn’t help the rumbling chuckle in his chest as he reached around the curtain for his towel. “Woe is me,” he whined, finally pulling back the curtain as he wrapped the towel around his waist. “On second thought,” he breathed, frozen in place with an idiotic grin on his face. You had no right being that cute doing something as mundane as brushing your teeth. Yet, his eyes had no intentions of looking anywhere else, transfixed on your adorable figure.

“What?” you garbled, toothbrush still in your mouth.

Erwin chuckled, finally stepping forward as if your one word released him from whatever spell he was under. “N-nothing, you just… you look cute.” He strode over to you, stopping behind you as he reached for his toothbrush.

“C-cute?!” You spit out with wide eyes that met him in the mirror. You rinsed your mouth, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. “You think ’m cute while brushing my teeth?” You finally spoke again once you were done. “Geez, gotta be careful, or someone might say you have it bad,” you teased as you stepped from in front of him.

“Wouldn’t be wrong,” Erwin mumbled as he quickly brushed his teeth.

The rest of the morning went by fairly quietly, both of you too busy blushing to come up with much else to say to each other. You made the bed and fed Sina as he got dressed and gelled down his hair.

“You didn’t have to to that, I would’ve done it,” Erwin spoke, slightly startling you.

“I-it was no problem, really. One less thing for you to worry ‘bout.” You smiled over your shoulder sweetly, your eyes immediately falling to the forest green dress shirt he was adorning. “I- you copy-cat,” you exclaimed with a giggle as you turned to face him. “I mean, the color looks good on you-.”

“I know,” Erwin cut you off. “That’s why I have a shirt in the same color,” he boasted as his eyes flitted down to the forest green t-shirt you took from him. “However, I, uh, I like how it looks on you more.” He tilted his head to the side, taking in every bit of your flustered reaction.

Why were you both like this? Why were you both still turned into blushing messes despite everything that happened last night?

“On that note, you should go before you’re late, and I’m going to leave.” You hesitantly closed the distance between you, stopping right in front of him. You placed your hand on his chest with a loving smile, “have a good day, ‘kay?” After a quick peck on his lips, you scurried out the door, releasing a breath you didn’t realize you were holding once you got in your car. “He’s going to be the death of me,” you whispered to yourself as you drove home.

***

“Where’ve you been? I almost starved to death,” Sasha screeched as you walked towards your front door. Before you even had a chance to jump from being startled, her hands were on your shoulders, shaking you. “Are you trying to kill me?” she whined, pretending to cry.

“I should ask the same thing,” you mumbled, slipping out of her grasp and towards Connie, who was standing at your front door. “Morning,” you said in more of a question than a statement. You were hoping he could fill you in on why in the hell they were there so early without you having to actually ask.

“BFB day? Best friend breakfast,” he spoke slowly, emphasizing each word, “Your day to cook, remember?”

“Course I remember, dummy,” you murmured with an eye roll. “How could I forget?” Erwin, that’s how. With a sigh, you moved to unlock the door but was held back by a tugging on your shirt.

“When’d you get this?” Sasha inquired, placing her chin on your shoulder. “Looks cute on ya,” she quickly added with a giggle. The smell was unfamiliarly familiar. It didn’t smell quite like you, but it was familiar somehow. Sasha didn’t even hear whatever you said, too caught up in trying to figure out the smell and fighting off the slow death of hunger.

“So,” Connie asked, trying to keep his voice down, “where were you?” He leaned on his elbow, resting against the counter as he ate an apple. “Ya never answered Sasha earlier. Almost like you’re hidin’ somethin’. Bet it’s the same place you got that shirt.”

You looked up from the pancakes in the skillet in annoyance, “drop it, idiot.” You flipped the pancake over, “or I won’t make you any breakfast.”

“Ouch,” Connie groaned, “someone’s touchy.” Connie finished off the apple with an obnoxious amount of crunches. “Is it a, oh I dunno, a boy?” Connie asked louder than necessary, with a smug smile on his face.

“A boy,” Sasha squeaked as she clambered off the couch to her feet. She clumsily ran across the room, bumping into Connie, “which one? Greek God? Oo, we’re talkin’ bout him, aren’t we? What’s his name,” she smacked Connie’s arm as she thought aloud.

“Ethan? Nah, Eren- wait, no, that’s definitely not it, ignore that. Ugh, come Y/n give us a hint,” Connie groaned.

You shook your head softly with a laugh, “you two really do share a brain cell.”

“Erwin! It’s Erwin, isn’t it,” Sasha smiled smugly as she noticed you tense up momentarily. “Weird name. Kinda like Eren, but it’s like his parents said make it fancy y’know. Wait! You-.” The pieces were slowly sliding into place for her, “you didn’t!”

“Didn’t what?” Connie asked with a confused yet blank expression on his face.

“I didn’t,” you argued timidly as you turned off the stove, sliding the last pancake onto the plate.

“Hey, Erwin,” Sasha squealed, making your head whip around in her direction. She smiled deviously at you with your phone pressed to her ear.

“Connie- I, er, I’m going to kill you both,” you growled, running over towards her.

“What did I even do?” Connie whined, his eyes wide with fear.

“So, not to be nosy or anything? But like, did you two do the deed last night?” Sasha giggled childishly as she ran from you, dodging around the furniture towards the front door. “Hm? Oh, yeah, ’m Sasha, Y/n’s friend. Pretty sure we met before- yeah, exactly!” She carried on the conversation as if it were nothing, dodging your attempts to snatch the phone from her with ease. “Wait- hey!”

“Hey, bab- er, Smith,” you cooed embarrassedly into the phone, turning away from the pair of idiots so they couldn’t see the goofy grin on your face. “What’s up?” Every inch of you was buzzing with child-like excitement, so much that you could hardly contain it. You absentmindedly twirled your hair around your finger.

Erwin leaned back in his chair with the phone casually pressed to his ear. Just the sound of your voice filled his stomach with uncontrollable butterflies that fueled his giddy excitement. “Hi, Darling,” Erwin said in a honeyed, husky voice, quietly praying to himself that you couldn’t hear the waver in his voice. “I, uh,” he chuckled shyly, “well, I forgot to bring a lunch and…” He trailed off as he rubbed the back of his neck. He felt so childish calling you like this.

You glanced over your shoulder, keenly aware of the pair trying to discreetly listen in while eating the breakfast you cooked. You lowered your voice, just enough so they hopefully couldn’t hear. “Maybe if ya spent less time flirting this mornin’,” you jabbed teasingly. “Anything special in mind?”

Erwin bit his lip, “surprise me.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“At least tell me what kind? Asian? Italian? Fried?”

Erwin laughed heartily, “I promise I’m fine with anything. Just bring something you like, alright?”

You rolled your eyes, “bye, Erwin. Be there in an hour or so.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

You quickly hung up with a flustered huff, tossing your phone onto the couch. You hated and loved how much his words affected you—three simple words. Three words, and here you were heart racing in your chest like a horse in the Kentucky Derby.

“Aren’t y’all cute,” Sasha was the first to break the silence, her mouth stuffed with an inhuman bite of pancake. “So who asked who?”

“Didn’t think either of ya had the guts,” Connie mumbled into his cup of orange juice.

“Wait, huh?” You stared at Connie and Sasha with a puzzled expression. “What’re y’all…?”

Connie sighed heavily, shaking his head with a pitying frown on his face. “And here I was, thinking you were the brains of this group.”

“Because I am,” you cut him off.

“She’s referring to you and Erwinie dating,” he continued as if you never said anything. “Unless,” he pointed his fork at you and raised his eyebrows dramatically, “this was a hit it and quit it.”

“No!” You bit your lips, desperate to pull back the outburst and act calm. “I mean, uh, it wasn’t a one-night stand… but we also, well uh, haven’t made anything official. I dunno, just feels implied, y’know.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, go be a good girlfriend who’s not actually his girlfriend,” Connie teased you as you grabbed your car keys and headed towards the door.

“Food’s the best way to a man’s heart,” Sasha called out, “even if he’s old! You should get him somethin’ to eat.”

“He ain’t even-.”

“And make sure one of you has the balls to actually make it official,” Connie shouted over you.

“Wait- I,” you groaned and shook your head, letting your argument die out. “Gee, thanks, mom and dad,” your voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Anytime, sweetheart. Oh, and make sure he brings you back in time for movie night.”

“And no funny business.”

They continued to shout out parent-like advice and warnings as you left your apartment, their muffled voices still heard through the closed door. As much of a headache as they were, you adored their support. With them in your corner, you knew you could overcome anything, even the jitters forming at the thought of actually asking Erwin to make it official.

[kuroos-moon]

『Hate’s Twin Called Love』

— request by anon whose initial ask i could no longer find 😫

❥ pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader 

❥ genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, denial  

❥ warning/s: language

❥ wc: 2.4k 

“I got here first,” you frown, narrowing your eyes as you placed a hand on the chair nearest to the window. 

“I placed my bag here, which means I got here earlier,” he casually replies, wondering why you won’t back down despite your height difference and his intimidating facade. 

Your frown deepens, and he does the same when neither of you give in. “I don’t care, I wanna sit here,” you say, your inner brat surfacing just because the way he glared at you ticked you off, so you stubbornly sit on the desk. 

“What a nuisance,” he grunts, sitting down on his chair as he rightfully should. 

Ever since then, you never passed up the opportunity to piss him off or give him even the slightest inconvenience of the day, devilish, you’re well aware. He’s the devil himself though, and only you could point that out. With him showing a sly grin your way when you lose a pen, only for him to proudly use it for you to see. 

“Hajime you asshole, give me back my pen,” you give him a death glare, and he innocently looks at you, acting confused. “I don’t have it, y/n.”

“Cut the bullshit, that’s my only one,” you grimace, irritated at the fact that of all the numerous pranks he could do on your never-ending war ever since highschool, he just had to steal your pen right before a test. 

“Don’t blame me when you’re the one who lost it,” he blinks, perfecting the art of acting clueless. “Give it back I don’t have another one!” You raise your voice, and he stops scribbling, looking at you in amusement. 

“What?” You huff, and he only chuckles under his breath, momentarily biting your pen to further irritate you. “I’ll fucking kick your ass after this,” you bite your tongue, wanting to scream at him if it weren’t for the many other students and a strict teacher here with you. 

And that’s just one of many encounters with the sly seemingly-mature ace who knew just how to annoy you like it were his second nature, but deep down, your day’s never complete without the usual sarcastic banters or the subtle mouthing of ‘fuck you’ or ‘whatcha looking at’ between classes, that’s why you sit bored in class for a few days when they’re excused for practice. 

Your happiness literally comes from seeing him so mad that he’s speechless as he sees you’ve uploaded an embarrassing baby picture source: oikawa or as he realizes you’re the one who’s been giving away his number. 

For him, you’re the exact same, you’re the devil’s spawn. Trotting along so casually as if you were an angel, only for the disguise to fall off the moment you open your mouth, profanity after profanity especially when you were talking to him. It wasn’t long before your string of curses was music to his ears and the highlight of his day, taking pleasure in having you yell at him, or in especially irritating occurrences, you’re throwing things at him. 

It just so happens when you’re casually sitting in the corner of the room, minding your own business as you listen to music. “Y/N-CHAAN!” You look up to see Toru, out of breath as he leant on the doorway of your classroom . “Iwa-chan’s talking with some girl, come look,” he grins, and just like that, your eyes twinkle with excitement. 

Time to to get back at him for that ruined test, you smirk to yourself, the clueless Iwaizumi standing at the end of the stairwell as he flirts with the poor girl who didn’t know at all how much of an asshole he was. 

“Babe!” You exclaim, the fakest and widest smile on your lips as you throw yourself at him, loving how he cringed away from you the moment you wrap your arms around his torso. “What the fu-

“I missed you, shall I come over tonight?” You gush at him, locking your hold on him with intertwined fingers as he tried to push you off without actually using too much force to hurt you. “Cut it out, you little shit,” he mumbles to your ear as he stills, waiting for you to unwrap yourself from him. 

“Who’s this Iwa-chan? Is she a friend?” You say enthusiastically, the deadly aura he gave off only making you want to piss him off more. “Iwaizumi is she your girlfriend? I thought you hated each other,” she raises a brow and you smile, looking up at Iwa. 

“That’s just our love language though, isn’t it babe?” 

He has had enough. It’s been days since you’ve bantered, the only interaction the past few days were the failed attempts to trip each other in the halls, but he wasn’t in class the whole week. Some part of him thought that he was relieved in your absence, but lately he’s been feeling empty. 

“Iwaizumi?” The blonde girls huffs, crossing her arms against her chest. 

“Iwa-chan, doesn’t she know how much you love me?” You pout, squeezing his bicep which you really hadn’t realize was this rock hard until now. It was the look of annoyance and pure hatred that made you smirk for only him to see, but you thought wrong. 

He wasn’t mad because you interrupted his romantic stairwell rendezvous, nor was he mad that you literally show up out of nowhere, being this close to him. He was irritated because you thought you were winning, you thought you were pissing him off; but joke’s on you, he actually found himself amused by this whole ordeal. 

“Babe let’s just go, you’re not cheating on me are you?” You add fuel to what you thought was a burning flame, thinking you had succeeded on ruining his day. 

“How ridiculous, you know I only have eyes for you,” he leans down, a teasing and excruciating mere inch between your faces, the side of his lips curving upwards so subtly you’re not sure it’s really there. Your eyes widen, and his grin grows as he could practically feel you stop breathing. 

He watches you storm off, knowing fully well he was victorious for this round. 

Iwaizumi - 1 

Y/n - 0 (Loser) 

The game against Seijoh and some other school was over, and like every other game, you got first-row seats, it was the one and only time wherein you actually admire Hajime (admittedly). You stood outside, waiting for your friends to finish gushing over Oikawa and you look up questioningly when you see pairs of shoes on the ground. 

“Uhm, do you guys want something?” You ask, confused, somehow feeling ganged up on with three girls surrounding you. 

“We’ll cut to the chase, stay away from Hajime,” she spitefully says, and you snort the moment you hear his name. 

“You don’t even have to beg me for it,” you say and they furrow their brows. “You’re acting so coy! Pretending to be some goofy girl who tries to piss him off only to get to spend more time with him!” 

You sigh, “I’d kill to have him away from me for as long as possible, what are you guys even on about?” 

“Just stay away from him y/n l/n, he’s mine.” Cue another chuckle from you, “yours? I question your taste but Hajime doesn’t belong to you,” you sweetly smile, not knowing where the sudden irritation came from. 

Seriously, how could she say he was hers when he probably doesn’t even know her name like the stupid non-caring jerk he is, but you somehow thank him for it, somehow relieved that he could barely name a girl in your class that wasn’t you. 

“What do you know?!” She seethes, about to land a palm right across your cheek but it doesn’t come, instead, she stood petrified as she meets Iwaizumi’s gaze, securely standing behind you as he firmly grasped her wrist.  

“That’s quite enough,” he glares, the girl immediately withdrawing her hand. “What are you here for?” You bitterly ask, the previous encounter in the stairwell still having your hate meter for him past its max. 

“Y/n-baaaaka, where’re those killer moves of yours that almost have me injured all the damn time,” he says, his lips tugging downwards as he looked at you, and you stiffen under his touch when he rests his elbow on your shoulder. Now looking at the girls, “You’re quite the troublesome bird-brained bunch, pathetic too. You better not come anywhere near us again,” he grunts, a dull ring to it in fact; but his usual voice was also usually intimidating, hence the effortless success of scaring away the girls for good. 

You scoff, “what’s with the sudden chivalry?” 

He raises a brow at you before a scowl forms at his lips, “shouldn’t you thank me?” 

“What? For coming to my rescue? How charming, nothing less to expect from our ace,” you huff, turning around to walk away. You know how much he disliked you, so why was he being kind? Why do you a favor and rest his elbow on your shoulder and act like friends, maybe lovers— you recall the position you were in last time, you clinging to his arm while he leaned in, face painfully close to yours. 

“Did you really mean that? You’d kill to have me away from you,” he chuckles, “what strong emotion,” and you halt, turning around to look at his expression which resembled the masking of hurt. “You were listening?” You ask, but he merely walks towards you.

“Thought I’d hear some sort of love confession,” he stops a foot away from you, “but that was fucking disappointing.” You’re beyond confused at this point, why in the world would he expect a confession out of you? YOU of all people, you’re enemies, same sides of a pole that simply will and never attract. 

“What would you have wanted me confess?” You narrow your eyes at him; your pathetic attempt to be defensive when in reality your walls were all crashing down, and he’d be free to walk in and capture you his; vulnerable and genuine, free from your lies and forced obliviousness. 

“I’m exhausted,” he says, leaving you stupefied when he holds your chin between his thumb and index, warm from having spiked the ball multiple times as the ace from the game earlier on. “I don’t give a fuck, just keep your fucking hands off of me Iwaizumi,” you glare, making him grin. 

“You swear a lot with that pretty mouth of yours,” he presses on you more, knowing this would either be a hit or miss. A hit for when you crumble and give in to him, spilling the truth about how you truly felt which he has long figured, because he can’t be the only one who felt this way, no? 

The miss wouldn’t be much of a miss though, he’d still love it if you exploded, punching him or something but at the same time postponing your long overdue truthful conversations because you convinced yourself too much that love and hate were separated by a thick line, which was far from how it actually was. 

“I hate you,” you spat, but he can’t see any hatred in your eyes at all. “Does that mean you don’t want me?” He taunts, his lips inching closer and closer to yours. You only find yourself looking down, unable to breathe at the suffocating feeling of having your emotions come out all at once. 

love or hate, which was it? The latter. No, it couldn’t be, you wouldn’t be finding yourself getting lost in his eyes if you did truthfully despise him. Then, was it the former? Perhaps... Maybe... Probably explaining why you were going to say it, “if you don’t kiss me right now, Hajime, I will.” 

Bingo, he wins, it was a hit. 

In one swift motion, he locks lips with you, your hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders as he tilts his head sidewards to deepen the kiss, not wanting to spare an inch of your mouth. It was the perfect kiss, one to show your yearning for the other through questionable means such as inconveniencing the other’s life, and one to express the raw passion of love that without a doubt made every bit of you ecstatic. 

“Oya, Oya, what’s this?” Oikawa’s annoying voice reaches his ears, Iwaizumi pulls away with one last peck on your lips. “I’ll fucking kill you,” he mutters under his breath, Toru flinching before letting out a nervous chuckle. “Uh, well then, I’ll leave you two to it,” he grins, waving at you before running off. 

“So you’ve had a crush on me all along, huh,” you smirk at him, his ears turning red as he looks at you. You snicker, poking at him teasingly as he covers his face with his hand. 

“Don’t push me,” he finally says, and you let out another laugh, of course you’re going to push his buttons, “eh, so what are we now, babe? I don’t think I like you at all, honey, that was charity.” 

“Charity?” He muses, grabbing your wrist to whisper closely in your ear, you gasp, his breath against your skin leaving you flustered. “If anything, all I did was fan service.” HE HAD YOU ALL FLUSTERED AND SPEECHLESS AND FOR WHAT? 

You push him away, irritation making you want to breathe fire, “FAN SERVICE?” You exclaim, wearing the deepest frown he had seen on you making him laugh. 

“Kidding, kidding,” he nonchalantly says, and you scowl, “I hate you.” 

“If you hate me so much then why not go out with me?” He says, all seriousness in his tone.

“What?” You blink, that was sudden.

“You should date me, cling to me, piss the fuck off other girls who try to get in between, and make sure I see your face everyday, that would ultimately make me miserable, and you hate me so much that you want that, don’t you?” He finishes, hands in his pockets as he looked straight at you. 

This time, he actually feared how this would turn out. He had revealed his cards already, there’s no going back to normal after this, things could only go from being strangers or to being lovers. 

“Sure, let’s date. Give me the luxury to annoy you everyday, and you better not break up with me for it,” you smile, and he chuckles, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. 

“Then don’t break up with me if I make you mad like ten times a day,” a soft subtle smile plays at his lips while you both walk hand in hand together outside the building, the sunset striking so beautifully at the two of you but you didn’t have much time to admire it as you were kept preoccupied with each other’s conversations. 

_____________________

General Taglist [Open]: @noyasbitchh 

[papers4me]

Fruits Basket, Se3, ep11 (part 1)

Breaking toxic bonds & accepting healthy ones isn’t a miracle. A bond that started with love could end up chained & toxic, another that started wrong could’ve become the joy of a life time. You can do it. Break the cycle of abuse & stand up for yourself, it is easy yet so difficult, you aren’t alone, tho, loved ones stand nearby cheering. Be kind on yourself, otherwise you’ll throw your life away. Life isn’t just happiness & joy, it’s also sadness & loneliness. Break free from the shackles that held you down. Embrace life & Live.

-Tohru’s “ I’m okay” mask is finally shattered! (the Importance of kyo’s rejection for her development):

This is the last part of tohru’s character development! The last few eps were abt her role in Akito’s redemption & their similarities. she staood up for herself & choose a path away from her mom while keeping her mom’s memory in a healthy manner. No more planning my life according to mom’s wishes, no more talking to mom ‘s picture 24/7. Now, I’ll plan my life & move forward even if it is with the guy mom said she cant forgive. even If it is without him, I’ll move forward. I love him so much, yet I won’t force our bond & let go. So easy yet so difficult!. tohru doesnt know anything abt kyo after her fall. All she remembers is his heart-broken face as he wept beside her. Those tears on his face, she caused them. He cried cuz it is too painful to see her hurt. She was a burden to him! tohru restored to her old coping mechanism of pretending “ i’m Okay” & smiling. She did so numerous times before. Always worked. No one noticed. Except him. Se02, ep7. he urged her to show her true fears. Now, she’s faced with a pain so big she can’t pretend no more. the pain of loosing him. She cried in front of yuki! The smile & chatting abt chores couldn’t conceal the running tears! Yuki’s first time seeing her like that. Se01, ep14, yuki wondered how could tohru smile after her mom’s death. She can’t pretend no more! She’ll have to wear her feelings on her sleeve! cuz it IS ok to do so! She tells kyo to give her a moment to compose herself. She couldn’t lie & pretend like she did with yuki. Here she either run away or just try to compose myself! I LOVE THAT! This way, whenever kyo/tohru fight or have any misunderstanding in the future as a couple, you’ll know tohru won’t just bear it & pretend, “ i;m okay” No! she’ll talk to kyo & express herself! I LOVE THIS SO MUCH! It gives her so much strength as a human & I’m happy all the obstacles & set backs in kyo/tohru’s romantic journey has led them to be better ppl little by little to build healthier & more realistic love! 

-The mechanics of writing a compelling slow-burn romance:

1. Igniting the romantic feelings slowly: Slow burns don’t work with love at 1st sight. It must first sparkle naturally, slowly & subtly. Both kyo & tohru repeatedly stated they don’t know exactly when they first fell in love. The author’s decision to create an environment where the two live together is a genius way to start & nurture their romance quietly & subtly. Kyo was tricked to stay in shigure’s house while tohru had to stay cuz she had no home, Natural reasons that force the two to spend days together & get to know each other gradually.

2. Dynamics of their personalities: For slow burns to work, the two characters need to be similar yet opposites! Kyo & tohru are both kind, endearing, innocent, good at chores, independent & hardworking. They both have history with their mothers that is filled with love yet traumas. However, tohru is calm yet prefer maneuvering around subjects, can’t stand up for herself, reads ppl easily, tends to trust ppl easily & disregard herself. Kyo is fierce, strong, tends to distrust ppl, despite ppl loving his spontaneous character, he has hard time figuring out if they’re mocking him or teasing him, very straightforward with his words & actions. The similarities helps them understand each other, however, the differences creates chances to clash & come even closer thro various situation. Ex, se01, ep2, kyo apologizing for hitting her head with the table which created the situation where she needed to confess she always loved the cat zodiac! It is HER gush of emotions that struck kyo. ppl really want my friendship? the cat is loved? Thro those difference they learned to better themselves so they won’t hurt the other, kyo toning down his anger for her, tohru desiring to know him even more as he becomes even more awkward.

3. Creating natural, realistic  & convincing obstacles that prevents them from being together:  This is the most important part! Slow-burn is two characters in love & cant be together despite everyone wanting them to be! if the reason that stops them from uniting is trivial, stupid, one-sided, can easily be solved, then the slow-burn would be a fillery & no one would cheer for it! Takaya-san is a genius!

Kyo can’t be with tohru cuz he thinks (a) he killed her mom! we saw thr flashback, he could’ve saved her & couldn’t save her. It was a split of a second difference & he hates himsef for NOT trying! that split of a second also prevented from thinking of better ways to save her than holding her! it happened to fast, he couldn't think of a better alternative cuz this was his 2nd time loosing someone (b) his mom’s sucide being pinned as his fault created this immense guilt & defeated feeling that “ no matter what, I just cause death & misery! There’s (c) too!, he knew tohru! thinks she deserves the world & cuz he didnt save her mom, he watched tohru talk to a freaking picture for two years! heck! he is the only one who can see thro tohru’s “ i;m okay” mask, so in se01, ep 14 in the grave yard! kyo wasnt the only one who is sad! tohru was too! & kyo could tell! (d) her mom’s death is the reason tohru is accepting shigure’s offer to stay with them rent-free in exchange of doing housework! (e)? he saw her confess crying her heart out abt missing her mom so much that she imitated her dad! so tragicly sad! (f) he saw her die in his nightmare!! how can he accept her love,now? Perfectly orchestrated obstacles! 

Tohru, unfortunately, in the anime it wasn't that clear due to shortening her backstories & trauma in se03, ep6. But she too couldn’t see herself confessing love to kyo. Tohru is has low self-esteem, always thinks she’s a burden to others, an orphan who just wants her mom, so scared, lonely & sad! we the audience believed the mask! we saw her work her motherly charm yuki, isusuz, kisa & believe her issues are not that deep.  tohru wont cry for herself but shed rivers for others! grief is so ugly it broke her! I cant let go of mom, must keep her always in my heart, such a hard emotions to write & I believe 100% the director couldn’t understand her grief & decided to split ep6 between her, kyo, isuzu & shigure. But Tohru struggling to confess to kyo is no laughing matter. ppl who are grieving find it the hardest to live after the loved ones die. they wont mostly commit suicide, they are alive, but they arent living. they just go thro the motions & live for the sake of those around them but not themselves. Tohru deciding to confess to kyo is her deciding to live for herself.

4. Writing a perfect psychologically & emotionally packed climax: I dont need to explain how perfect kyo’s rejection of tohru in se03 ep9 was. How much we felt for him yet were mad at him. He we were “ ugh! kyo no!!!! I mean I get why you do that , but you idiot no! come back! poor kyo! He was just so sad & broken! OMG he’ll kill himself after finding tohru’s injured body!! he totally would! his nightmare came true! But Tohru reached him! she wanted him to be okay! he wont kill himself but still feels hella guilty! but so utterly in love with her that his instinct upon seeing her come to life after near death is kiss her! Perfect display of psychology & emotions! filled with right, wrong, sad, happy, guilty, innocent! basically so human~ As the audience you MUST have this mixture of feelings of wanting to hug him so bad cuz this boy has been killing himself for years now yet want him to stop & just see that he was a good boy afterall. Tohru is THE best girl & if the audience are cheering for kyo to be with her, kyo really deserves her! The only problem is for kyo to see that now.

5. The Perfect wrap up of all romance: If you make your audience suffer the slow-burn this long, you gotta reward them good! & Takaya-san delivered! Just like how the entire romantic story is realistic, the reunion must be as realistic too! Tohru is hurt by kyo;s words. Facts remain his words were hurtful to her. I love that was addressed! tohru gets to tell her side, too! If you love someone, you are bound to be hurt by them as much as be happy with them. Simply cuz they matter so much to you! you arent one person, but two ppl coming together. Kyo must work hard for this confession. Must run & chase her. Must earn her proper! He gets on his knees, I cant express how important that is! he is way taller than her, Imagine apologizing while she looks way up & he looks down? He gets on his knees & apologize like a man, for every mistake, all while not loathing himself. He aint going back to that deep abyss again. He did wrong by her & he is owning up to his mistakes. Give me one chance. I’m not gonna force you with persistence or guilt you into taking me. Give me ONE chance cuz i deserve it & no more. The choice is yours. She asks to confirm, he shows her, they kiss, they hug, they are rewarded with a blessing from the heavens! One of the most simple yet emotionally fulfilling confessions in anime!

- Hugs over kisses: (And her kiss hugs her & the curse was lifted):

Prince charming kisses the princess & she wakes up~ they live ever after~ except furuba is all abt “ eternal ever after is not true, real life is where the real love is”

Kyo kissed tohru once, she didnt wake up, she didnt even think he loved her back. didnt even remember the kiss.

Kyo hugged tohru once. se01, e024, He initiated it, tohru was all in tears, surprised, happy & so utterly in love. he called her name for the first time ever, for a brief moment, they both connected, they both comforted each other. The rain stopped, he became a man not a monster, she got him back. She got her kyo that she fought for with none other than kyo himself.

kyo hugged her again, se03, ep6. They both initiated it. He made the first move, pulling her just a little closer, she made the second move & hugged him hard, he transformed, it was a moment were they both connected, both so sad & broken, both feeling needy for the other, both desperate for the other, both just living the moment. the result is them coming closer, her wanting him more, him realizing her love, there is no escape. Admit it. she loves you. You can tell.

Kyo hugs her again today. He asks permission. No spur of the moment feeling. But a long lasting permission to be together. To hug. He wants to hear her acceptance of his cursed body. “ is ok to hug you? this body will cause you pain as it wont be able to fulfill your wishes of constant hugs & intimacy”. She responds, permission granted, for love, for hugs, for a life long acceptance of you as a whole. weakness & strength, sadness & happiness. I accept you all in better & worse! we’re invincible. Why? cuz we understand love isnt magic. It is a path for us to walk together~~~ reward curse break!

Every time kyoru are closer it is a hug. The one thing the zodiacs cant do. A hug. They can kiss. But cant hug. comes this Zodiac Ruler girl so lonely, away from ppl, so sad, meets a cat boy who comes to the house she’s living in, a house away from ppl, the boy is drawn to the girl, However, when the boy needed to leave, the girl was able to let go despite loving him, the boy comes again, this time wanting to stay, the girl accepts the boy. They both accept the realistic reality of life. Embrace the obstacles & the achievements, celebrates the weakness above the strength. Both so imperfect. Both so endearingly dumb! that’s why the girl’s hug broke the boy’s curse. The girl’s acceptance of the cat broke all curses.

Side Note:

Kyo’s confession is so kyo! so straightforward, so direct, & so physical. He’s on his knees, holding her hands, looking at her eyes. “ i want to be WITH you. If I’m gona live, I want to to do it with you & no one else! cuz I love you” that’s it. That’s all.  So sincere & so romantic!

it is crazy how different tohru & kyo are now after the confession! she stood confidently & happily & said “dont you know, I love you!” all while teasing him, her giggle is so girlish & cute! my girl is a happy woman in love! long buried the angelic mother image of se02! YES! also, kyo’s happy face is love! Dude! when was the last time he smiled so freely? Did he ever do that? He smiled in se01, ep4 with kazmua, but not like this! T_T. my son is healing~

Kyo’s “ i wont ever feel afraid if you’re with me” is a huge growth from his “ I want to protect her” mindset. Now he realizes it is two-sided mutual desire. She gives him strength as much as he does! <3

I dont like open eye while kissing, but here it is so perfect for tohru in this moment! cuz she spent days thinking kyo rejected her & even ran away as soon as she saw him, now he’s not only confessing, apologizing, admitting she is his life, but also kissing her signaling they’re romantic couple. kissing on lips is so personal, what more evidence she needs? still, her thoughts? “ it’s like a dream?” aww~~~ tohru~~~ my precious girl! she just cant believe all her suffering is over, now? She was just practicing “ i’m okay” smile & now she’s an official girlfriend to the man of her dreams? He just bent da kneeee~ go for it queen!

yuki’s face when tohru cried is exactly what I meant of “ allowing yuki to have strong facial expressions”! XD these types of faces humanize yuki so much into the teenage boy he is! Unfortunately the anime team only sees him as the pretty prince in most times. That’s why fave yuki is when he’s with kakeru. He becomes so un-princly as he should be.

Speaking of yuki, I see you anime team~ postponing his moment into next ep so him & machi wont be overshadowed by the long awaited kyoru!! While this defies the perfection of all cursed zodiacs breaking on the same ep making akito’s breakdown less perfect & poetic, I take it as the anime team admitting they underdeveloped yuchi & decided let’s give them more screen time & not putting them in close distance from any couple. A week later ep is enough with lots of time. I dont mind at all, I’m just saying more time after/while confession is not what i was hoping for~~ sigh~ At least I hope yuki would say sth along the lines” all this time I was looking at you, i realized i love you” to imply he was thinking of her as a lover not his kindness for someone he helped. I just dont want their love to be sudden simply cuz yuki needs happy ending. oh well~ I’m sure whatever it will be, the anime will give it utmost attention.

That sad moment when kagura wasnt allowed a moving image. lol. girl was given a still image that didnt even move with the breeze! T_T

Not gonna lie... the scene with kazuma & kyo was underwhelming. Why the wide shot? I mean you dont need budget for that. Just give me a closeup from the waist up with kyo head buried in kazuma’s chest. Dont need to waste budget on kazuma’s face, either.... do the old trick of hair covering eyes & show me glittery tears~  why the awkward shot of kazma towering in his own house! how tall is this man & why cant he he fix his roof?...lol

Also, shigure, you got scars man... who can hurt shigure? akito? gotta be her. I dont think hatori scratches...lol.. Aya? nah~ too busy with Mine! yup, akito... another steamy night? could be, she’s changed as he wish now. But scratching a face is weird while..um..kissing? a quarrel? but why? I bet she wants him now & we know he wants her....

More on part 2! especially abt the curse’s lore~

[starsuh]

do re mi | myg

featuring. min yoongi x reader | 3.2k

summary. while teaching you how to play piano, min yoongi realizes that his dumbass might have feelings for you after all.

genre. fluff | f2l | roommate!au | mutual pining

warnings. a quarter-life crisis and a soft make-out scene at the end

Amongst Min Yoongi's many talents, his sixth sense of knowing when something was bothering you was the one that most oft caught you off guard. Whether it was the intensity in which you slammed a door shut, or the way in which you didn't choose to annoy the fuck out him like you did every other day of the week; he would notice each time. It was only clockwork that he tentatively wrapped his arm around your shoulders when you had collapsed against the couch with perceptible chagrin.

"What's up?" he asked, a simple question that often entailed a more than complicated answer. Peering down at your tightened features, he awkwardly patted your shoulder as if to make known that silence would be just as valid of a reply.

You ran your hands through your face. "I don't know,” you said. If you did, you would've told him, just as you told him everything. Though the pair of you had began as merely two people who happened to be roommates because there were no other affordable options, spending months watching Netflix with another person tends to lead to friendship — even best-friendship, though neither of you had established such a title. It was the kind of friendship that needn't clarification, rather it was just another unequivocal fact amongst many.

After kicking off your shoes (Yoongi would scold you for that in a less emotionally-turbulent time), you pulled your knees up to your chest and wrapped your arms around them in a ball-like manner. "It's really fucking lame but I’m just realizing some things,” he nodded, prompting you to continue. "I'm scared of the future, I think. I mean, everyone is, but when our prof was talking about internships and shit earlier I kind of freaked out then decided that hiding in the bathroom was the best option.”

In his gaze was a reassurance so intent that you had to look away lest you become ensnared in it. He oft had that effect, increasingly so throughout the past few weeks. "What about it?"

Your eyes fluttered closed as you took a deep breath. “I think I know what I want to do, but then I see other people, people like you, who are so passionate about their place on Earth that to not do that thing would be a fate worse than death. Like, I love the path that I’m on but there’s always a voice that’s telling me I’m gonna fuck something up and regret everything.” You played with the loose threads of your top, pulling at the offending stitching. You laughed. “This is so stupid. I guess I’m just realizing that I might not be cut out for it.”

His sudden silence filled the room so heavily that you began to wonder if you shouldn’t have said anything at all. Gears turned behind the messy black mop atop his head that hung over his eyes; a face similar to the one he makes when contemplating a new track he had produced, seeking for each of its flaws and corresponding solutions.

It was so sudden when he reached down to grab your hand that you almost jumped. An inch away from falling onto his chest with the sudden upwards tug, you steeled yourself. "I'll show you something," he said to which you replied with a questioning stare. "It'll just be a sec, c'mon."

You allowed him to drag you to his bedroom, though not without glaring at the back of his head and whining. "Your room smells like Cheetos and day-old boxers."

He rolled his eyes. "I cleaned it this morning, so shut up."

He pushed the door closed with his hip, never once letting go of your hand until he unceremoniously shoved you towards the left end of the keyboard bench. You wiped the accumulated hand sweat against the rough fabric of your jeans, both thankful yet forlorn that he had let go. His was a comfort rarely given and you craved his affection the way one did with a cat that ignored those around it.

He reached down to plug the extension into the socket. "Can I play you something?"

You blinked, unsure if the nervous tone laced in the question was figment or reality. “What?”

He gave you a blank stare though it didn’t distract you from the way his hands fidgeted in his lap. “I said, can I play you something? Something I wrote?”

Impatient, he didn’t give you a second glance or a moment to reply before his hands flew across the board, pulling melodies out of the nooks and crannies of its black and white keys. Through every note, he told you of emotion, of love, of heartbreak and melancholy. You don't think you had ever understood what music was until then. It was more than his expertise, though he was quite the expert; it was the way his eyes closed at certain shrills and the way his shoulders hunched at others, the way he slammed harder into the keys and at other parts softer. He played like a poet. A writer. And you refused to be someone who didn't appreciate it for what it was: a story told to you.

The slight smirk gracing his soft features told you that he found amusing the way your mouth gaped open in shock. You’d only ever heard the distant echoes of his sound from behind closed doors as you walked past.

Yoongi had never played for you before, was even shocked that he was able to now, knowing that your mere presence in close proximity provided quite the distraction.

When he stopped, the air almost rang in its silence, as if you had forgotten what the world sounded like without his music in it. The hush blanket laid across the room felt bare and vulnerable. You understood now more than ever why he locked himself within the confines of his space in all hours of the day. If you could live in his symphonies, you would.

"Wow.” Because what else could be said? "That was... Yoongi, you're amazing."

His smirk remained, though as more of a mask to hide softer feelings behind. "Must've been if you're complimenting me for once.”

"Because you already have a ginormous ego."

He began playing once more. This time, a slow and deceptively simple melody. The chords were arrows tightly strung that flew through the air in wisps of smoke. To you, its warmth was paralleled to the feeling of his own beside you, his arm occasionally brushing yours as he reached to play a few lower keys.

"I think you're taking it too seriously," he said. "The future, I mean."

Your brows furrowed. "I kind of have to, dude."

He rolled his eyes but kept playing, occasionally glancing at you as he did so. "What I mean is," he pressed softly against the keys in the left end of the piano, their tenor notes filling your ears. "You need to calm down. Like this," the already soft melody slowed. "You know what you want, don't you? Why are you hesitating?"

You stilled, the feeling of being both caught and scolded grounding you in time. Your eyes focused on his hands to avoid the feeling of his analyzing gaze on the side of your face. “There are things I want to accomplish but there’s also things I want to have,” you groaned in exasperation. “I don’t know if I should choose the former or the latter but they’re so entangled that I can’t even tell which is which anymore.”

"Some things are only difficult if you think they're difficult." He looked down at the keys. "Like playing the piano, everyone knows that learning it is hard but something like this-" he played three chords in succession. "-sounds simple, right?" He continued to play those same chords until they blended together in a single melodious breeze. "But when I was a kid, learning piano was the bane of my twelve year old existence. I hated it so much because my impatient ass wanted to be good without trying. So, in true dumbass fashion, I quit taking lessons after two weeks."

You tilted your head towards him. “How did you learn then?"

“Well, I realized I was being a huge pussy and went back." Shaking his head before the glaze of the memory could wash over, he nodded towards you. Grabbing your hand, he placed them over the keys. “Can I teach you a chord?”

Your heart spiked in one fell swoop. “What? And embarrass myself in front of the music god himself?"

He laughed and it lit up his eyes brighter than the screen of his laptop that he had forgotten to shut off, still on the League of Legends home screen. “I told you, it's only hard if you think it is."

Too flustered to argue, you could only watch as he directed your fingers towards the correct keys until three were stretched towards their respective positions. C Major. You wondered if he could hear the rapid pace of your heart through the vibrations on your skin from where his larger hand rested atop your own. You could only pray to any god who would listen that he didn’t.

Among the numerous feelings that bubbled beneath your chest, the sudden pinch of ice that struck your nerves as he lifted his palm away from yours was one that you were the most unsure of. Filing that thought away for later, you focused on the most important task at hand: avoiding looking like an idiot in front of Min Yoongi.

Before you could retreat, your hands pressed down.

A sudden burst of sound filled the silence that you hadn't realized had grown so deafening. Your eyes widened as if you hadn't expected the chord to occur despite Yoongi's administrations, like trying to guess a passcode and getting it correct in a miraculous feat of luck. The now fading sound was not like anything you were expecting, though you knew even monkeys could do what you had just done. It was an actual piece of the puzzle that was music rather than the CD case or paper bag that had come with it.

Likened to an excited pup, you looked towards him for praise or assurance that you had done it right only to catch his already grinning countenance at your widened eyes.

For the next half hour he taught you two other basic chords, never failing to correct you in such a patient manner that your heart rose and fell with each glance and soft appraisal.

"But sometimes," he grinned. "Sometimes you need to stop thinking."

Your brows furrowed, though you didn’t need more than a few seconds to understand his cryptic wording before you yelped, almost flying off your seat at the abrupt disruption of the peace.

He began smashing his hands against the piano, creating the worst orchestra your ears had ever had the pleasure to hear. Overcoming the shock, both of yours laughs bubbled out, drowned by the keyboard speakers. Without a second thought, you joined, key smashing against the lower end. Together, you created an ear-grating masterpiece of cacophonous noise and piercing melody, yet it was still one of the most beautiful things you’d ever heard.

Yoongi began cheering your name like the greatest hypeman in existence as you gave the most effortful performance of your life, hands pressing against the first keys you saw to the last. You didn't know what you were doing but it didn't matter, not when he was smiling with his gums on full display as you went with your gut for the first time in years. Yoongi, the boy whose hands crafted magic, whose words changed you, whose music moved you. Yoongi, who looked at you and saw past your forced pretensions and society-enforced perceptions.

You laughed until your lungs ached for air, having not even realized that your whole body leant against his as you tried to catch your breath.

"Oh my god, I think my ears are broken," you covered them, finally dragging your hands away from the keys.

His grin widened. “You're a quick learner."

“Is this the part where I say that it's because you're a good teacher?"

“Only if you're polite, which we know you aren't." He hadn't stopped smiling and you had never felt prouder of any accomplishment in your entire life. “Was I able to distract you?"

You laughed, bringing your hands back to your lap to fiddle with them. He's seen you wear the same ramen-stained hoodie three days in a row with hair just as ratty yet you had never more felt exposed. “I’d say yes but I think I’ve exceeded my Yoongi compliment limit for the day."

"And here I was thinking that that compliment limit was zero."

"Hey," you playfully knocked against his shoulder. "I always say your breakfast is good."

He knocked against you back, his eyes turnt to half-moons. "That's because you want to brainwash me into cooking for you everyday with half-assed compliments."

"Or maybe," you lightly leaned against his hoodie-covered shoulder. "It's because I like eating breakfast with you."

He paused, and a grin that could only be described as shy graced his features. He tapped against the keyboard but didn't press hard enough to allow a sound to be let out.

"I trust you," he said in the silence. "That you can follow your heart. Even if that sounds corny as fuck, I really believe it."

You smiled, something you've been doing more and more often with him around. "I'll try," you said, watching as he contemplated his next words with a bite of his bottom lip. Giving him time, you glanced back at the piano. "Is it really that simple?" You pressed on a key.

He finally looked up. "I think so," he played the key beside the one you had just pressed, the side of it touching yours. "Even if it doesn't sound right to other people, who's to say that random key smashing isn't music? When you think you're supposed to play a certain way, that's when you hesitate. Even when you fuck up a piece," he pressed another key. "Regretting it doesn't stop the echo."

He began to play another soft melody, leaving you just as entranced as you were the first time he did.

“I’m a hypocrite, though,” he closed his eyes, lightly scoffing. “Giving you advice that I can’t even take.”

Your voice came out in a whisper. “Why?”

“Because...” He took a deep breath, hands leaving the keyboard as he fully turned to you. “I like you," he said it like it were a fact you should've already known. “I... I like you. A lot. I can't remember when you stopped being my annoying roommate who'd hog the fridge space and became the annoying roommate who I couldn't stop writing songs about. Before I could even realize and stop myself, today’s me kept looking forward to tomorrow’s you. I’d be a hypocrite to tell you to stop hesitating about the things in your life while I spent every second of every day wondering whether I should tell you my feelings and ruin our friendship.”

For if there was anything Yoongi knew more than most was that love was fucking stupid. It caused people to be irrational, selfless, and weak-hearted, yet why did he want to forget the stupidity that came with it whenever you walked into the kitchen for breakfast, hair messy and shirt tousled?

Love was fucking stupid. But maybe he could be an idiot if it meant that you'd be stupid for him too.

“I know you don't feel the same way but I just needed to tell-" you kissed him before he could finish what was sure to be a sentence so ridiculous that even the most astute of linguists would be left baffled. He was Min Yoongi. The boy who spent all day locked in his room making music and playing games with his friends. The roommate who'd wake up early just to cook you breakfast. The friend who knew you better than you knew yourself. The man who you'd found yourself falling for with every gummy smile. Yoongi. It had always been Yoongi.

And he was kissing you back.

His lips were as warm as the hands that carefully wrapped around your hips, gently pulling you closer to him. He kissed the way he played, soft and thoughtful.

Pulling away, he whispered your name slowly, prolonging each letter as if to savor them. Never before had your name ever felt so wonderful a one. His forehead pressed against yours, eyes flickering between yours in disbelief. The hand around your waist tightened as if in fear that at any moment you might say that you hadn't meant to give him what had to be the best moment of his life -- that you had actually accidentally fallen on him and he had simply been mistaken.

"You're an idiot," you laughed. "I've liked you since the first time you've cooked me breakfast if the heart eyes I gave you each time weren't already a dead giveaway."

He shuffled in his seat. "You have low standards then," he said. "Or are in desperate search for a house-husband."

You smiled, your nose brushing against his. "Maybe, a bit of both."

He leaned away from you, eyes lit up in a euphoria that didn't hinder from his nervous cadence. "Actually, that song I played for you? Earlier?” You’d never seen him blush before. “I, maybe, composed it thinking of you.”

"A personal chef, jester, and composer? I think I'm winning."

His nose crinkled. "You know you can still back out, right?"

"You're acting as if I'd even want to."

"Stupid songs like that... I suck at love yet I still want to give you everything," he whispered, voice hoarse. "But my everything will still only amount to that."

"If that's your everything,” your hands interlocked with his. “Then your everything is more than enough."

"I like you," he murmured the confession between your lips as if it were clandestine, the urge to say it a million times more bubbling up from his chest. Though stronger than his urge to say it was his urge to hear you say it back.

Your lips met his completely. Perfectly. "I like you, too."

Pulling away once more you couldn't help but laugh at the reddened color of his cheeks and ears. Cutting away at the awkward and still unsure tension, he inched backwards with a startlingly loud clap of his hands. "Now that that's settled, can we go back to making out? This corny shit is so awkward."

"I can't believe I like you," you groaned but kissed him back anyway.

While there was nothing in your life that you could be sure of, you knew that the man whose smile could light up the entire city of Seoul would be there for you for every step, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Hey I read your oxygen loss scenarios and I absolutely loved them, even if they made me really sad at first, but I still love them entirely! If you're still doing them, could you do one with Fort Max?

Thanks a bunch! Angst with a happy ending is kind of my favorite thing in the world, so I'm glad others feel the same! It absolutely works well with our big Maxy boy!

Here's the other posts for this prompt!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: You're Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Fort Max

·Somehow, he's fallen for a being so small they fit in his cupped palms, and yet the two of you fit together so well he can't complain. Though he's a tad bit overprotective, you don't mind at all, and understand what drives the behavior even if he doesn't say it. What matters is that he's improving, and adores you so much every little activity is better in his mind when done with you, even just chilling and managing his security reports. That's why you're on his desk at the moment, relaxing on the human sized furniture he occasionally uses as paperweights when you're not around. Every so often you'll look up and find him glancing your way with a loving expression just visible through his attempt to remain neutral, after which point he'll dart his optics back to his work and pretend he's been busy the whole time. You can't help but think you're the reason he can't get much done.

·In addition to his filing reports, he has his monitors open at all times, each of which feeds him the security information for the various sections and systems of the ship. Most of the time there's nothing to report, save for hijinks going wrong or an experiment accidentally knocking things offline, yet he's always quick to respond. The rapid reactions to potential threats has put him on surprisingly good terms with Red Alert. Thus you're none too alarmed when he sees something unusual on one data feed and immediately gets to investigating, his large digits tapping away for answers while he vocalizes his thought process. Curious as always as to what might be the source of the issue, you move in wordlessly and are placed on his shoulder without having to ask. Having you watch him work always makes him feel quite proud after all.

·Initially the issue appears to be a simple bug in the programming of the communication systems, an inconvenient but none too hard to fix dilemma. Seeking out the source however, he finds none of the expected signs of an internal miscalculation, and before you can ask what's wrong he's messaging the bridge with a full alert. You listen as an audibly erratic signal forces him to keep things brief; emergency defense units and protocols need to be scrambled now, the ship is suffering an encrypted hack and a physical assault is undoubtedly inbound. While you feel instinctive fear at every word, somehow being in his presence and seeing him take command lessens that to a remarkable extent, for not much can get through your partner when he's on alert. Unfortunately for him he's anything but unafraid.

·When the line inevitably goes dead, he actually struggles to recall the next phase of his crisis response plans, as having you right beside him makes doing anything but protecting his delicate partner seem insignificant. Only by reminding himself that protecting you requires him to protect the ship is he able to get moving. Double checking your position on his shoulder, he clarifies that you'll be going to the nearest secure zone before he heads off to check various rendezvous points, as the crew is trained for this and the silent alarm has already been triggered. As you settle in on the broad expanse beside his helm, he just manages to grab the last of his spare weapons before a cataclysmic tremor rocks the ship. An audible rumbling through the ship blocks out all sound as you briefly tumble through the air.

·Catching you in a mad dash, he bombards you with questions as to possible injuries before you can clarify that you're fine. Tragically the relief on his face isn't something you get to enjoy for long. A second metallic rumble through the Lost Light turns his expression to a scowl. The enemy must have snagged them with a kind of anchor, he surmises, which no doubt means they'll be boarding in very short order. He needs to get you out of here now. Knowing that high stress situations can exhaust him in ways he's still not used to, you hold one of his digits tightly from your place on his palm. You're ready, you assure him, and you know he's going to be just fine. It works in the smallest way. The two of you draw strength from shared reassuring smiles before he leaves the safety of his office to start moving.

·As usual, he's not really afraid for his own sake as he moves through the hallways, due in no small part to his massive size and strength. For you though, he has to at least admit to himself that he's terrified. Hearing and feeling the tremor as intensely as he did means it must have come from somewhere uncomfortably close by, and that means the likelihood of encountering a threat in the next few minutes was remarkably high. The intensity of Cybertronian combat made such an occurrence not unlikely to be fatal for squishy little you. Yet as he recalls the closest potential drop off spot he can secure you at, he can't help but think on his role as a protector of this ship and how his responsibilities seem divided at the moment. While he has to keep you from harm, the same is true of the crew, and he can hardly ensure your safety if the ship is compromised...

·The decision to take the route he settles on is one not made easily, but it still feels proper. By going a less direct way he can check on multiple key locations only a little out of the way, helping to ensure that protocol is being followed and that the enemy isn't overwhelming their defenses. He can get you somewhere safe, while protecting you and the rest of the crew at once. It doesn't feel ideal, but he has to do his job, right? You can't be safe without the ship, unlike a Cybertronian who can at least endure the vacuum of space and even has a fair chance of surviving a planets fiery atmosphere... Primus, he can't handle thinking about those things. Focusing on getting you to safety along with everyone else is what he has to think of instead, especially with the sensation of your tiny body so warm and delicate in his palm, which he tries to also draw comfort from.

·As you trust him above all else, you don't ask any questions as he moves through the ship, sneaking as much as a bot of his size can in the open hallways. You're hardly scared for your own sake with Fort Max holding you close to his spark. In fact, the world beyond doesn't seem scary at all from this perspective. Being such a massive bot equals out to a rather strong spark, and as close to it as you are, you can feel it humming even now. It's kind of like a miniature sun with how warm and alive it makes you feel. Silly as it sounds, you do believe it feels stronger than when you first met him, as if the healing he's done since has made his very spirit grow brighter. For the sake of that hard earned recovery you hope everything goes smoothly today. It's enough to make you hold on to him a little tighter, just to convey your support.

·Eons of training prevent him from being taken by surprise, but he feels far from prepared as he detects enemy movement down a hallway. The aliens are large, numerous, and well armed. Regardless of their intent to take prisoners, he knows he can't let them go, as the mere possibility of them hurting even a single being on this ship is too much for him to take. Knowing they have to be taken care of is unfortunate with you in his care, as he doesn't want you to see him in combat. But... he trusts himself enough not to take it too far, a realization that makes it easier for him to whisper a warning and secure you in a tiny maintenance hatch, from which you will be safe and hopefully won't observe much. As soon as you promise to stay put he takes off to end the threat as quickly as he can.

·From your spot the chaos of battle is mostly the noises that reach your ears, but through them you're still able to recognize Fort Max as the imminent victor, if only because the fight is so one sided he hardly has to make a sound. It still makes you curl up in the little shelter and hope for it to be over as soon as possible. Yet the darkness of the maintenance shaft makes worrying a tad bit difficult... in fact, it makes you oddly tired. Exhaustion you didn't even notice is suddenly weighing you down, making the battle seem so far away and insignificant, all despite how clearly you realize now isn't the time to sleep. Perhaps the rush of all this has simply worn you down?

·Max finishes off the batch of enemies quickly and without a trace of the usual thrill of battle. He doesn't want to enjoy combat the way he once did, or feel the way he used to when he was at his worst and tearing foes apart actually felt good... As soon as the last enemy is down he returns to you, actually thinking he made the right call for once in checking key locations like this, for now this batch won't be able to hurt anyone. Though his usual luck shows through when he returns and finds you extremely groggy, to the point that even as a bot without medical experience he knows something is wrong, and he scoops you up immediately to start looking for injuries. You react amicably to his concern and assure him you're fine, but your breathless tone gives away that something is obviously affecting your respiration. In a series of horrifying realizations he connects the dots.

·The ship being hacked must have affected everything, including the life support systems you need for the air to be breathable, which he should have considered as a possibility from the very beginning. Without a moment to spare, he tucks you close to his chest and charges towards the medical bay. It's painfully obvious to him now that he made the wrong decision. He should have prioritized you over everything, should have anticipated there being additional threats, should have done a million other things... Hearing your weak reassurance only makes it hurt more. Unable to comprehend what's going on and not getting anything from him but whispered apologies, you just try to stay awake to support him as he runs through the ship at full speed. The only thing that stops him is an ambush from a full legion of enemies, though thankfully he still has enough of a grip to shelter you when the energy weapons start firing. Your tiny form is shielded by the impenetrable armor of his curled body as he briefly retreats to secure you once again, but this time his charge into combat is anything but controlled.

·From a little cubby you watch him unleash total vengeance on a horde of unprepared combatants, his incredible strength reducing enemy weapons and bodies to shreds without a trace of hesitation. Yet as you slip from consciousness there's no fear in your heart. Only sadness, for his sake and your own, as his resurfaced trauma tears into him yet again. It's worse than that though, he blames himself almost more than the enemies he tears apart, because protecting you was supposed to be his job. He'd told himself you needed the ship secure to be safe, but had he even considered the air you needed to breathe? It should have been obvious. Fighting somehow dulls the pain, as if the little rush of every kill helps his processor subdue the ache, and as the enemy needs to die regardless for their crimes against you he doesn't hesitate to go all in. The heated blur of battle overtakes him so completely he almost doesn't realize when he's joined by backup Autobots on his security team until there's not an enemy left to kill.

·Your last conscious perception is his face as strong hands lift you gently, followed by muffled instructions to get you to the medical bay. Some part of you knows he won't rest until every threat on the ship is dealt with, and you're correct. As you're whisked away to the medical bay, he takes no prisoners as he initiates his defense, rallying the gathering bots to annihilate those who would have turned them into a quick profit. But with every blow, he can only think of you. As he's cheered on by his fellows, he can only think of you. At the final declaration of victory and the rebooting of the systems, he can only think of you... Not even knowing the medics saved you and that you'll fully recover assuages his guilt. If anything, as he washes the blood off his servos and forgoes the festivities to sit by your bedside, he's certain he's never felt more like a monster...

·When you wake up there's a lovely warmth all around you, coupled with a gentle hum through the air that you know has been there in the past. Open eyes let you see a familiar wall of a chest, and through the oxygen mask you happily whisper Fort Max's name, making the hulking bot twitch in surprise as he looks down to you. It's with a smile you realize he was dozing with you shielded beneath his tented form. Remembering the haze of chaos and danger, you reach out to him as he offers a gentle hand to adjust the blankets laid loosely over your small body, but despite the fact that you're both okay you only see sadness in his optics. At your first prompt he lightly deflects with a sad smile. At your second his face falls and the whole ordeal comes tumbling out of him, with particular emphasis on how he failed to protect you when it truly mattered, something that impacts him so greatly he sheds a few tears as he lays his head in his hand.

·Heart breaking at the sight, you quickly point out the multiple times he charged into battle for you, though he counters by recalling how savagely he killed his enemies in front of you. It was the kind of brutality he'd thought himself beyond, but if he isn't, how can he be safe for you? It takes all the strength you have to sit up and firmly request his attention. At what point, you ask, were any of his actions not in some way motivated by the greater good? Even if he didn't know everything that was going to happen, did he once abandon you? Of course not, because he's a good bot, and you know he is. Before he can bring up one more point about his perceived failure you remind him that he's come impossibly far, enough that no setback today could undo his progress, and that you're so proud of him. As the weakness forces you to lie back and he leans in with concern, you smile and point out that everything he's done has been to the benefit of others, whether it be you or the crew. For once he can't argue. Curling protectively around you once more, he decides to let himself be happy that you're safe, shaken but reassured by your faith in him. More than anything, it gives him faith in himself.

[beauregardlionett]

from the clouds - prologue & ch i

AO3 Link

Our story begins—like so many others—in Wildemount. Descending through the cloudy overhang hovering over the Truscan Vale, rising along the Bromkiln Hills towards Mount Mentiri in the Cyrios Mountains. Between these points sat Kamordah. This, however, is not where the story begins. Deeper into the woods of the mountains, travelling north of Kamordah along the edges of the Cyrios Mountains, were numerous streams and rivers. Many of the waterways hidden among the warm mountains bore names long forgotten. Should one be lucky enough, they might encounter the spirit of a waterway and learn their name.

Most were not lucky.

According to legend, the spirits of the rivers were benevolent, but cautious. Too many of them fell by the sword of glory hungry adventurers, or became tamed and twisted to the will of mages. It was rare these days to encounter the water spirits known as Imugi. So rare, the mundane populations nearly forgot the name itself in the present.

But the dragons were not gods, and just because they were forgotten did not mean they ceased to exist. There existed several breeds of dragons—some better known than others. Imugi, however, were not full dragons—they were considered of lower stature and lesser power than their fully dragon counterparts. Imugi required outside intervention to become fully realized dragons—an orb of power known as a yeouiju. That, or to have lived and acquired knowledge over one thousand years of life.

In a twist of sick irony, the god that created the Imugi faded from knowledge and power over time in the material plane, lost to legend and memory. Their power waned as it was wont to do, and the yeouiju sent hurtling from the heavens to the material plane came less and less frequently.

This, however, is still not where the story begins.

It begins in the fringe woods north of Kamordah and due east of Mount Mentiri, on the banks of a tumbling river. Lined with trees whose ancient roots stretched above and below the soil to the water, their branches housing birds and fauna of all sorts. Between the current and the river rocks swam fish and otters, beavers and frogs. Flowers grew a short trot from the banks, and wildlife visited the river for the life it begat.

There, tucked away and hidden among the rocky face of a short overhang, was a hollow. Screened over by trailing moss and lichen, an absent traveller would miss the opening entirely.

This is where the story begins.

-

Beauregard does not remember how she learned her name.

Her creation was a simple thing. The river she called home came into existence a couple hundred years ago. She crawled out from between the river rocks beneath the tumbling current, willed into existence by a god fading from human memory. Her name—her real name—was something she had always known from the moment awareness set in. But the trees and the animals that took up residence on her banks named her Beauregard.

The spirits of the forest that lived around her took care of Beau, taught her their common tongue instead of the warbling, watery language Beau spoke intrinsically. The fish understood when she ate a few of them, and the red-tailed doe that visited the water allowed Beau to play with her fawns. They all encouraged Beau, cheered her on, as she stumbled through comprehending her powers, her abilities, and her frustrating limitations.

Beau could not fly, nor stray too far into the woods from her river without weakening and losing her breath. She learned her lesson the hard way when she was still small and less than twenty years old, carried home by a dryad who had found her gasping and grey less than half a mile from the river. She could not maintain her true Imugi form for too long, lest it sap at her inner reserves of power and magic. And though the river birthed her, though the river was her, Beau’s control over it was abysmally lacking for the first fifty years of her life.

But the spirits all kept encouraging her, pushed Beau to keep practicing. In return, when Beau finally had a handle on it all, she protected them. When the mortals came with axes and gleaming eyes, Beau shifted and roared and scared them away from the trees. The anglers set their nets, and the hunters set their traps, and Beau sabotaged them all. She stalked the banks of her river, eyes mirroring the clear, rushing blue of the water at her feet, and refused to give an inch. This was her river, her friends, and she was the guardian. Nothing would get in her way.

Despite it all, Beau was not content. Her chest began to feel hollow after a hundred years in her river. The monotony of her days, the metaphorical chain at her ankles, tethering her to these banks, was dreary. She longed to fly, to explore the heavens above, and to wield a storm at her fingertips. Beau knew—just knew—that Imugi could do more, be more. The stories and the knowledge all sat inside of her without prompt. Beau needed a yeouiju, needed that orb of power to help her rise above the treetops.

The dryads let Beau climb up their trunks and among their branches. They let her wiggle through the topmost canopy of their crown and witness the wind on her cheeks and dancing through her hair. The thrill in her veins from the dizzying height tasted of flying in the paltriest sense of the word. But it was enough to fuel her determination.

Which was why Beau remained so determined to find a yeouiju of her own, to ascend into higher stature and power. However, she knew the dwindling knowledge of her kind afforded fewer chances to Imugi like her to gain a yeouiju. Lack of knowledge and faith meant the god that created Imugi was fading from power and existence. It took more out of them to create yeouiju now than it had hundreds of years before.

These facts did not daunt Beau’s resolve, though.

Regardless of the tedium, every day she swam the length of her river charge, eyes on the heavens. She would consult schools of fish on their numbers, give them directions, rearrange river rocks, and tend to the flora on the banks of her river. She would protect the dryads, aide the birds with their nests, collect sticks and branches for the otters and beavers, and befriend the visiting fauna. Throughout each daily chore, Beau waited. At night, when the current babbled calmly over her stones and banks, she watched the heavens. The stars would twinkle back at her, each distant flash stoking a false flame of hope in Beau’s chest. Each time her aging heart would leap, thinking this might be her falling orb, her chance at last.

Each morning, the sun greeted her dwindling patience with empty warmth.

“Haven’t you ever heard the term, a watched pot never boils?” Caleb asked her one evening. He ruffled the feathers of one wing as he groomed his beak through his primaries.

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that you spend too much time eavesdropping on humans?” Beau retorted, voice sharp and bitter. Caleb did not rise to the bait, but he gave her a knowing look before returning to his task.

Caleb was an eagle, and a handsome one at that. His chest dappled white down into a russet color that encompassed his lower torso, legs, and coverts. His secondary and primary feathers dappled white and dark grey, long and prideful. Caleb’s eyes were a point of interest, however; a deep, beady brown shot through with a violet blue. Beau had asked him about his eyes once, and Caleb said they were odd for a bird like him.

He was intelligent and annoying, but an excellent teacher in all things beyond her banks, and Beau loved him like family. Granted, it had taken them until Beau was in her early seventies and a near brush with death to get there, but they got along fine now. Sometimes, when Caleb was in a good mood, he would let Beau assist in his meticulous grooming process.

Beau knew all the spirits who lived on and visited her banks, but there were a select few she kept closer than the rest. Caleb was the only one of that few who did not live on her shores permanently. He came and went with the wind and the weather, bringing Beau stories and trinkets from his travels. She had long ago learned to tamp down on the bitter jealousy with each journey Caleb brought back.

Summers were the worst, when the storms rolled in with warmer weather that made Beau roil in vicious hatred. They were awesome displays of power, and she knew dragons controlled these storms—dragons that had once been Imugi like her. If she focused hard enough, Beau could summon a mild cloud cover, but never more. She could not bring forth rain, let alone thunder and lightning. Her powers barely extended past the banks of her river.

“That looked great,” Caduceus encouraged from the banks of the river, his tone a pleasant drawl. Beau huffed with frustration as her chest heaved with exertion. Water droplets clung to her bare calves where she stood in the river, hair a loose mess as tendrils hung in her eyes and stuck to her sweaty temples.

“Don’t patronize me, Caduceus,” Beau snapped, clenching her fists so hard her blunt nails almost broke the skin of her palms. “That wasn’t any better than last time.”

“Maybe not,” Caduceus agreed as he lifted the lid on his white stone teapot to inspect the state of its contents. “But it’s better than two weeks ago. Progress is progress.”

Beau wanted to yell at him for his constant positivity, his endless faith in her. But she stopped short, knowing he only meant well and was not actively trying to patronize her. Besides, he was right. Two weeks ago, Beau had struggled to maintain the rolling fog she created for two minutes. Now she could hold it for almost ten. But it wasn’t enough. Every attempt she made today in trying to raise the fog higher, to make it into clouds that would rain, had failed. The cover never lifted higher than her knees.

Giving another frustrated huff, Beau kicked at the water, only growing more upset when it parted around her foot and she missed entirely. It was a funny thing, her relationship with the river. She existed as the river, and the river lived in her, but they also existed as two separate entities. When she stepped out of the water, it did not follow. She could ask the water to do things for her, but it did not always listen. Beau tried to explain it once to Caduceus and the other dryads, ended up having an existential crisis, and never brought it up again.

Trudging from the water and up onto the banks, Beau plopped down in the grass beside Caduceus with a mighty exhale. The second her feet left the water, the bone deep exhaustion set in. Every time, it reminded Beau why she shouldn’t push herself and tug at her magic for hours on end—even after all these years.

Caduceus passed her a steaming cup of tea with a knowing look and a gentle pat to her damp kneecap.

“That’s probably enough practicing for one day. Drink up and then maybe we can track down the others for lunch.”

“Yeah,” Beau mumbled around the rim of her teacup as she blew on the steaming liquid. Her face felt tight and flush with disappointment. “Sure.”

The summer days passed in a blur of scorching sunlight and overcast rainstorms. Beau took every opportunity afforded to practice her magic, to draw upon the well inside her until it sat nearly dry. It wasn’t a healthy or wise idea, but Beau had never been known for her wisdom.

On one such day summer day, a storm raging with a rare ferocity above, Beau lay coiled in her hollow, the water dappled scales along her spine shifting restlessly. The stone offered shelter from the wind and rain howling outside the walls. The lichen and moss whipped back and forth with wild abandon in the storm, the shallow water at the front of her hollow disturbed by the movement and the rain. Beau cared for none of it. Bright blue eyes trained on the clouds, she tracked each strike of lightning, shuddered with every crack of thunder. Her mind was far from the thrashing lichen, from the soaked banks of her river, longing to know the thrill of controlling the storm.

There was a flash among the clouds, vivid white and searing purple and achingly bright. Beau’s head popped up, eyes wide and nose twitching as the burn of ozone filled the air. Thunder raged like a mournful cry and rattled Beau’s bones.

Something glowing fell from the darkened clouds.

Heart racing and veins throbbing with adrenaline, Beau shot from her hollow with a speed unknown. Heedless of the surrounding storm, Beau’s eyes locked in on the orb hurtling from the heavens toward her.

This was her chance. This was her yeouiju.

Beau could now fly in the loosest sense of the word—a discovery made a mere month ago that had filled her with joy but now was a frustration. She often made it to just above the treetops and no higher, lingering in the air for a few minutes before she had to return to the water. Without a yeouiju granting her stronger powers, she could not make it higher into the heavens. Despite this, Beau pushed herself now, straining her ability as much as possible, draining her magical well dry. Desperately, Beau pushed herself to climb higher, claws extending toward this glowing orb, this shining future.

The yeouiju hurtled closer, burning and beautiful. Beau’s heart sung in her chest with victory as her claws closed around the object just above the treetops. It was heavier than anticipated, more tangible than she thought an orb of power might be. She didn’t care, though, because this was it.

Beau didn’t care, even as her clawed foot dipped with the weight of the orb, dragging her whole body a foot or two from the sky toward the ground. She was going to fly.

But instead of the thrill of power, the surge of ascension, the weightlessness of true flight, Beau felt a static buzz singing through her veins. It seared through her as though she had grabbed hold of lightning, whiting out her vision for an instant.

She only realized the object in her claws was not an orb at all as the buzz faded away.

Confused and frustrated, unable to stay in the air any longer, Beau wove her way back to the river, magic all but depleted. Depositing her charge on the damp banks of her home, Beau coiled around herself until she stood small and human on the wet sand.

Through the sheets of rain, she glared down at what she thought would be her yeouiju, finding instead the hulking figure of a woman. Her face lay turned away from Beau, her long, thick hair the blinding white of lightning stuck to her skin like a curtain, obscuring her features. The woman’s fitted tunic was a deep black, smoldering in places and crisscrossed with straps of dark leather. But her arms were bare, the skin alabaster in hue, a stark contrast to the black of her tunic and the rest of her outfit. Finally catching Beau’s attention, though, was her right arm. The skin was marred, covered in sporadic, spiraling veins of fresh scars—evidence of lightning damage—but somehow twisted and wrong.

Unable to help her frustrated curiosity, Beau moved around to stand on the other side of the woman, crouching by her head. Without caution, Beau gathered a handful of the sopping hair from the woman’s face and moved it aside. Slack features and more alabaster skin greeted Beau beneath the hair, a solid blue line of a tattoo curving over a strong chin and down a sloping neck. An oozing gash on the woman’s temple bled sluggishly as her breath stuttered from her lungs.

Beau could not pretend to understand what had happened or how this woman fell from the sky. But she sighed, short and sharp, as she knelt beside the woman in the rain. Lightning stretched across the sky so viciously that for a moment, it was bright as day. Beau flinched as the echoing thunder followed a mere second behind and seemed to shake the very ground.

Her hollow sat nearby, and Beau knew despite her frustration, she would not leave the woman in the rain to die. She was not that heartless.

After some clumsy maneuvering, Beau had the woman draped over her back, the bulk of her figure swallowing Beau’s slighter frame. Her knees shook as she walked over the wet, unsteady sand, but she stayed resolutely upright. Ducking through the lichen screen of her hollow, Beau only stumbled twice with the relief of being out of the wind and lashing rain.

Setting the woman down unceremoniously by the shallow water’s edge, Beau cleaned and dressed the head wound as best as she was able to. Uncertain and wary of the lightning scars, Beau settled on covering them with a healing salve and resolved to ask the dryads for help in the morning.

Scooting to the farthest possible corner of her hollow opposite the unconscious woman, Beau pressed her back to the stone. Bitter and angry and upset, Beau pulled her knees to her chest and folded her arms over her legs. She glared over her forearms at the woman until her eyelids betrayed her and Beau slipped into sleep.

[costellos]

author’s note: this wasn’t a request, just something super self-indulgent that I wanted to do! ❤⃛(*ૂ❛ัᴗ❛ั*ૂ) also this ended up taking 2.5 hours to write aldkf;j so much for unwinding at the end of the day. overall, I’m super proud of how this came out — please enjoy!

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang realizing that they’re in love!

bruno bucciarati.

Bucciarati realizes he’s in love when he sees you defending civilians.

he is a man made of love. for his people, for his community, for his goals — he firmly believes that everyone and everything can be built on yes, but more importantly, taken care of.

he sees you protecting an elderly couple during a stand battle. in a split second do you throw your stand at the couple, taking a hefty amount of damage in their place. you’re bloody and your arm is definitely broken, but you still turn to them. "you need to leave. now,” you say. although your words are harsh and hoarse, your smile reminds them that yes, everything will be fine, I just need you to trust me.

you didn’t have to protect them. any other gangster would have left them to die. they’re old, no one would miss them.

but you did. you put these two strangers, two no ones at the wrong place at the wrong time, before yourself. even if it meant you’d die.

Bucciarati would visit you shortly after the battle. Giorno had already tended to your wounds, evident by your lack of bandages. his hair is normally neatly placed, but it looks like he had been rustling it, with his clips out of place and the braid atop his head uneven. his concern is apparent; he’s wracked his brain waiting for your recovery. you knew that Bucciarati cared about his team, but when did he care this much? ↳ “I admit, your actions were certainly reckless,” he would say to you, taking a seat beside your bed. “you’re lucky that fight didn’t end worse than it did. nonetheless...” his voice is tired yet soft, comforting. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’m... I’m incredibly glad.”

leone abbacchio.

Abbacchio realizes he’s in love when he sees you upholding true justice.

although he would never admit it, he is haunted by his inability to save his partner during his time as an officer. as such, Abbacchio envies those who back justice in spite of the system Italy lives under.

you’re patrolling one of La Passione’s turfs with him when you see it: two officers harassing a young girl. even though Abbacchio tells you not to get involved, you quickly storm over to the scene. their voices are loud and clear, despite them being several meters away. the girl looks scared.

it turns out she had stolen a handful of painkillers from the corner store. the cops noticed her scurrying out as they were buying a pack of smokes. and now, they were threatening to take her into the station. “I need them for my family!” she explains, but the cops don’t buy it. they huff something about her bringing them to school and selling them to her friends.

“here. I’ll pay for her. just leave her alone.” Abbacchio watches as you flash 30 euros to the cops, more than enough to pay for the medicine. playing them at their own game, he sees. thankfully, they relent, pocketing the money and leaving the scene. and after you talk to the girl, explaining that if she needs more help to come find you, you both leave the scene too.

it’s a brief affair. truthfully, he wouldn’t have gotten himself involved. he wishes you hadn’t either. it would’ve been less of a headache, and now that girl is going to pester you again in the future. but he can’t stop replaying the scene in this head. how you willingly stood up for her, reassured her that everything would be okay. how you smiled and looked so content after the fact. ↳ “ I envy you,” he would say as you walked away from the scene. “doing the right thing is...” he pauses. stupid? naive? “...it’s not easy. you didn’t have to do anything but I admire your valor. just don’t be surprised if that girl comes up at your doorstep begging for more money.” nonetheless, he wants to learn more from you. to be good again, he thinks. maybe then he can be someone that he himself is proud of. and maybe, eventually, he’ll make you proud too.

giorno giovanna.

Giorno realizes he’s in love when he sees your ambition.

he prides himself on his resolve. to him, resolve is committing to something regardless of the difficulties that a person faces. seeing you be so goal-oriented would make him believe that he’s found his match.

it doesn’t have to be a huge goal, like dedicating yourself to a field of practice or learning a new language. it can be as simple as trying to keep your houseplants alive. in fact, those little things come off as more charming to him. it shows that you’re passionate about everything you do, no matter what it is.

seeing you continuously try despite numerous failures would make Giorno’s heart pound. you refuse to give up. even with everything against you, you still roll up your sleeves, take a deep breath, and pick yourself up again. he adores this about you.

he realizes it when you’re rambling about your next move in your goals. your face is so excited, your eyes so wide and bright. your mouth is voicing your steps a million words a minute but all he can focus on is how beautiful you look. the smile on his lips is unmistakable. ↳ “tell me more. I want to know everything. tell me about every detail, every step, what you’ll do when you’re finished... all of it.” he won’t say it — after all, he doesn’t want to come off as too desperate — but he wants to be there every step of the way with you. and when you’ve completed your goal, he wants to be the one next to you, the one to say, “I am so, so proud of you.”

guido mista.

Mista realizes he’s in love when you laugh at one of his jokes.

life should be simple. that’s the mantra he lives by. despite being a gangster, he just wants to have a simple life filled with simple pleasures. one of those ways is through telling stories.

it happens when the group is eating dinner at a local restaurant. Mista is telling some long-winded anecdote, something about how he heroically beat up a landlord for harassing his tenants over money. at the end, it turned out to be the set up for a really brief and really stupid punchline.

everyone is looking at him. “ah? ahhhh?” he muses, but no one responds. the silence in the air is unbearable. hm. wow. is it hot in here or what? finally, Narancia breaks the silence, muttering that he doesn’t get it. Fugo tells him that Mista could have made the joke so much shorter. Bucciarti exhales quickly from his nostrils, a half-assed attempt at laughing. Giorno and Abbacchio don’t say anything.

but then you. oh, you. it takes you a moment to get it, but when you do, your giggling disrupts the awkwardness. it sounds like bells, Mista thinks. sweet bells, ringing like how they used to at the church every Sunday morning in his hometown. it makes him feel warm, welcome, and he can’t help but feel his face flush when he hears your laughing.

Mista stays in place afterwards, pushing his white beans to and fro on his plate. he’s not hungry anymore. he keeps looking up at you, and while he had acknowledged you were attractive before, something about you was now beautiful. you were happy here, with your eyes bright and your smile wide. eventually, he would say: ↳ “hey, thanks for covering me back there. those guys never laugh at anything I say.” he rolls his eyes playfully, adding a slight shrug of his shoulders. “lemme make it up to you. what can I do for you?” he’s trying to be smooth, but he’s so giddy at the prospect at spending more time with you!

narancia ghirga.

Narancia realizes he’s in love when you don’t lose your patience with him.

he doesn’t have much of a formal education. hence, critical thinking skills don’t come easy to him. he tries his best, he really does, but it’s difficult when he’s hardly flexed his brain.

he’s writing a song. nothing fancy, but music has always been a part of Narancia’s life that he wants to give it a go himself. maybe one day he’ll be a famous hip hop artist, touring across Europe and maybe even the U.S. one day! the thought makes him excited. but for now, he needs to establish the lyrics.

rap is easier said than done, though. Fugo is teasing him about his inability to write poetry — what makes Narancia think that he could write a whole song? he grits his teeth and turns back to his paper. 

that’s when you approach him. you sit down with him, asking him what he would like to write about. “oh, uh... growing up in the streets, I guess,” he mumbles. he’s taken aback by your help. plus, talking about it now makes him embarrassed. but you don’t judge him, no; you sit down with him and try to help him nail down the theme. and once you have that, you assist him in finding snappy lyrics and catchy rhymes. 

you don’t criticize him for his ideas. you don’t yell at him for his suggestions. you just listen and add on. the encounter is foreign, to say the least... but not unwelcome. Narancia finds your help incredibly productive (much better than Fugo could ever offer him). and the time goes by so fast! within a few hours, his song is done. yet he’s not happy... no, he starts to feel lonely the moment you stand up, off to assist Bucciarati with whatever he needs. ↳ “wait, hold on, [Name]!” shit. his voice is way too desperate. he softens it as best he can muster: “can... can we write another song sometime? I have a lot more ideas and I can’t do it without you.” fuck. he did it again. but when smile at him and nod, promising that you’ll help him hit the Top 40, Narancia can’t help but smile back.  

panacotta fugo.

Fugo realizes that he’s in love when you put him before yourself.

genius. prodigy. failure. Fugo is defined by how others see him. after his parents abandoned him for leaving an abusive establishment, he finds himself lost in the world. who is he? what is he worth?

he’s escorting you to your mission when his car is attacked by a rival gang. the assault is a blur. he can remember the car flipping over, tumbling off the road and into the Mediterranean Sea. it happens so fast. the salty water surrounding you both. the windshield cracking. the airbag goes off, suffocating him. he can’t see. he can’t breathe. and suddenly, it’s dark.

when he wakes up, he realizes that you’re both on the beach. “where are we?” he musters out. it hurts to talk. you hush him to take it easy, that he had most certainly broken a few ribs. and that’s when he sees it: when he looks down, his wounds are tended to. gashes have been tenderly wrapped in gauze and minor cuts treated with balm. a pain relief patch has been placed on his chest, no doubt where the air bag hit him. but when he looks at you, you’re bleeding through your bandages.

that’s right. there was a first aid kit in the car. based on his injuries, you spent the majority of supplies on him, even though you definitely had it just as bad. “why?” is all he can say.

why? you shake your head. “because you’re my friend,” you answer, adjusting the gauze on his wrist. “I’m taking care of you because you’re worth it.”

your words catch him by surprise. he doesn’t believe it, but... your face is honest enough. his thoughts are jumbled, as mixed as the sand and water at the shore just a few meters away. and when your hand touches his wrist... he shakes his own head.

↳ “you should’ve tended to yourself first.” his tongue tastes of nothing but blood and salt and his words show it. a beat, and gentler this time: “I appreciate your thinking of me. thank you.” that’s all he can say, at least for now. it hurts to much to talk, moreover think. so he places his hand over yours as a gesture of thanks. friends, huh? the idea before sounded laughable, but now... there was something warm about it. the answer to his question — who is he? — had come as quickly as the waves beneath him: a friend.

[xenteaart]

One Faulty Briefcase

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Basically, due to some faulty time-travelling equipment you get separated from Five and end up being stuck in the past on your own. Fun times.

GIF: @jos-march​

Note: This is another part of this AU. Five and reader are in their late 20s here. Hope you enjoy! Pure fluff for you during those dark uncertain times

You’ve been stuck in the past alone for two years now. It was the 15th of May 1982; you and Five were just finishing up one of your missions, nothing remarkable, nothing extraordinary. Getting rid of your mark was quite easy, you’d say almost too easy to hope the mission was going to end well.

“Five, I think there’s something wrong with the briefcase,” you pointed out worryingly, eyeing the time-travelling device with suspicion as the two of you were gathering your things around the motel room, getting ready to leave.

“What do you mean?” he asked nonchalantly, paying very little attention to your concern.

“We landed weird. Not like we usually do. I don’t know, something was just off about it,” you replied with a puzzled frown on your face, recognizing that whether you were right or not, the briefcase remained your only way out of the year you didn’t belong in. Five looked the device indifferently and shrugged, not thinking much of it.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, waiting for Five to be done with whatever it was he was doing, staring at the goddamn briefcase as if it was alive and plotting against you. It was probably nothing. You didn’t get to have a vacation in so long, always on the go, always busy and tense, it was probably just your exhaustion transforming into paranoia. Maybe, all you needed was a day off.

“Okay, let’s go,” Five’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You simply nodded and got up on your feet before taking a hold of the briefcase and stepping closer to Five so he could put his hand on your shoulder. Using a briefcase wasn’t exactly rocket science - there were very little ways to mess up. None, to be precise. They were programmed to a certain time period by the clerks at the Commission, and all you had to do was push a button, so, clearly, it couldn’t have been you who screwed the time-jump. But something did, and the very second you pushed that button, you felt electricity go through your veins, making you break the contact and let go off the briefcase.The pain that coursed through your system lingered for another twenty seconds, leaving you shaking on the floor and breathing through what felt like a full-body cramp, and when it finally subsided, you looked around and realized you were still in the motel room in 1982, except Five was gone and nowhere to be seen along with the briefcase.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit,” you whispered to yourself, your eyes wide open in disbelief that you were actually right to be worried.

The damned briefcase was your only chance to get home. Well, you didn’t really have a home per se but even the flat the Commission provided you and Five with, despite the fact that you barely got to spend any time there with your never ending trips across the timeline, seemed like a better option than being stranded in the past completely on your own.

“Fuck.”

You had no better option other than to wait for Five to show up but with each passing day your hope and patience were wearing thinner and thinner.

There were only two reasons as to why it’s been two years and you still haven’t heard from him - he either just didn’t care about you which was quite unlikely or he was in some sort of trouble himself. Some days you felt very optimistic, knowing full well that Five would never just leave you nor would he give up on trying to reach you, other days anxiety and solitude weren’t doing you any favors, making you believe it was how you were going to live out the rest of your life. In the year that you didn’t belong, doing things that weren’t yours to do, sleeping in a bed that wasn’t yours to sleep in. The most difficult part was living through each day completely clueless about when it was going to end or if it was to end at all.

For the first few days you stayed at the motel, waiting for Five and still full of hope. Thankfully, you had enough cash on you to cover a week's stay. But on the seventh day you woke up and it suddenly dawned on you. You had to go and make a life for yourself because you were staying.

It wasn’t exactly easy since people barely cared about your circumstances, dismissing you like they dismissed any other homeless person. You were invisible to them, just another nuisance with a story they didn’t have time for.

As soon as you completely exhausted your resources and didn’t even have lunch money, you had to spend a few days living on the streets. Sure, being a professional assassin was a relative advantage on your side but you didn’t want to spill any unnecessary blood and only used your skills for mild robberies up until you landed a job at some cafe.

You thought it was a nice change since you were never exactly happy with working for the Commission in the first place. Serving meals and talking to customers felt like a much needed vacation - the job was simple and almost relaxing, especially compared to a job of a hitman. Being a waitress, however, didn’t bring you nearly as much money as you needed to cover your rent so you still robbed occasionally, always making sure no one got hurt.

Five crash landed in some dark alley, even though mere seconds ago it was noon. The briefcase became too hot to the touch, so hot it was painful to hold it, so Five hissed and let go of it instantly. It didn’t explode like he expected it to which was really good news, it meant it was still working but obviously needed fixing.

Luckily, Five Hargreeves was a bit of a genius so he was bound to make things right eventually. But for now he was also thrown off the original course, landing just a few years later, in 1990.

The Commission didn’t seem to care about the accident much. Of course, they could send another agent to scoop you both and bring you back safely but you were nothing but tiny cogs in a grand machine, and you were replaceable. Watching you two on an Infinite Switchboard, the Handler lit her cigarette with a sinister giggle, curious about how you were going to figure it out. She would probably help you if there was some out-of-the-ordinary case that she’d need Five to take but for now everything was rather peaceful, tedious even, and the Handler fancied some entertainment. Plus, any agent could take the job she had planned for you both, so there was truly no hurry.

As soon as Five found a safe place with no one around to distract him, he began fiddling with the wires inside the briefcase, hectically remembering everything he’d learned about them in Orientation. There was no easy fix to this and he was probably going to need some time to come up with the solution but he already had a few options in mind so it was time to get started.

It was a slow lazy Sunday and you were already at work, all dressed up in your uniform and in an unreasonably good mood. Maybe it was the sun outside that made you a little happier and a titch more oblivious to your circumstances or maybe you actually enjoyed living a normal mundane human life, or maybe it was both. Either way, you felt pretty alright for someone who got stranded in the past with no chance of seeing the person they loved the most.

The place you worked at was usually pretty crowded on Sundays, so you had barely any time to be reflecting on your life, too busy running around with plates and drinks in your hands.

One of the hit songs started playing on the radio and you couldn’t help but dance to the happy tunes that felt so appropriate for the warm bright day outside.

“Come on, don’t let me down this time,” Five whispered, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and wiping away a few drops of sweat from his forehead. He took a few seconds to assess his work, making sure he didn’t miss anything and the briefcase was all done and ready. Needless to say, he’s tried contacting the Commission numerous times by this point but all he got in response was silence, so he gave up on that idea eventually and tried to repair the device on his own.

Five pushed the button.

This time, the landing was even rougher than before, quite literally making him smash into the hard unwelcoming asphalt and split his eyebrow. But he did land somewhere so it could probably count as progress.

Your shift was coming to an end as the city was slowly immersing into the pink colors of the evening sky. As Five entered the cafe, you were still waltzing between the tables almost carefree, mouthing the lyrics of some random song and moving to its beats like no one was watching. He recognized you right away, your posture, moves and physique too familiar to overlook. You’ve spent more than ten years together, after all.

When you finally noticed him just standing in the middle of the hall, your heart dropped and so would the plates you were holding if you hadn’t been quick enough to catch them. You froze for a good ten seconds, staring Five right in the eye, too scared to believe it was actually him and not your imagination playing tricks on you. As you put the plates down on a nearby table with a loud bang, you ran towards Five and squeezed him in a deadly tight hug, almost making him lose his balance.

“What the fuck, Five,” you said with a gasp of relief, your words half muffled as you buried your face in the crook of his neck, “How did you find me?”

“What? I didn’t. I just popped in for a coffee before looking for you,” he uttered, frowning. Only as you pulled away, you finally noticed that Five was still wearing his work suit, and the stains on the fabric were a clear giveaway that it was the very same suit he was wearing on the day you two got separated, “Wait. Why is your hair so long? And what are you doing here?”

Now you were both confused. Properly confused.

“What?”

“What?” he mirrored your tone, still gazing at you as if he was solving a riddle. And then it hit him. “What year is this?”

“1984. It’s been two years.”

“No, it hasn’t.” and it was true for Five, it’s been less than a week in his timeline, so he either miscalculated the jump or the briefcase’s navigation system was more corrupt than he had anticipated.

“Yes, it has, smartass, look around,” the words came out a lot more snappy than you would have liked, and you took a deep breath, then wrapping your arms around Five again and pulling him closer, clearly reluctant to ever let go just in case.

“Not sure if I want to attempt getting us back with that nonsense of a briefcase but we’re both here now so that’s good news,” he muttered, closing his eyes and shaking his head a little as he returned your hug and held you close. You smiled weakly and chuckled, giving him a quiet “yeah” in response.

Five’s body was warm against yours, and you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath at the realization of how much you’ve missed him. He rested his hands on your waist in a protective manner and simply stood there, letting you enjoy the embrace as the entire cafe was silently staring at the pair of you with utmost confusion and almost fascination.

“You know what that means, though?” you asked quietly, unable to resist a smug grin.

“Hm?”

“I am now four years older than you instead of two.”

“Oh, God. I’m never gonna hear the end of this, am I?” he rolled his eyes in response as he was gently rubbing your back in calming circles.

“Nope.”

-

The consequences for the Handler were going to be disastrous because Five was already getting about a dozen ideas on how to make her pay for her inaction and there was no force on planet Earth that could stop him.

-

a little sequel to this fic here