#especially when it's worded as “x is a hypocrite” rather than “this thing x did was hypocritical��

[ittybittyremy]

I really hate the use of the word "hypocrite" in the CR fandom because it doesn't let people appreciate the nuances of the characters/situations. This is not to say that the characters don't have their hypocritical moments. I just think there are people who slap the word on a character and call it a day, not even bothering to try to understand it.

I have more to say but TLDR: Hypocrisy is a fact but it feels like an insult because it implies that there is no reason that the contrast of ideas exists.

You won't like to hear this but everybody (including you) is/will be a hypocrite at some point. There are many cases of this, some more severe than others.

As a small example, I hate the sound of other people clicking their pens repeatedly but I click my pen repeatedly all the time. Is that hypocritical? Yes! You could slap that label call it that and call it a day and it wouldn't be technically wrong. However, you could also figure out why these contrasts exist. In my case, my thing with noises has to do with control. I don't mind my pen clicking because I can choose the tempo and decide when to stop it. But others make that exact same noise, I can't control it and I don't know when it'll stop.

Hypocrisy is a fact but it feels like an insult because it implies that there is no reason that the contrast of ideas exists.

This is not meant to say that all hypocrisy makes sense or has reason. Reasonless hypocrisy is one of the foundations of prejudice/discrimination but that's a whole other conversation.

There will also be reasons of hypocrisies existing that you disagree with. However, just because you disagree with the reason doesn't mean that the reason does not exist.

Back to Critical Role

I made this post because of people's reactions to Ashton regarding their views on the gods versus the primordials. During the CR Cooldown, the cast calls Asthon out for their hypocrisy of their views on the gods versus the titans. This is what Taliesin says about it:

"It's the difference between the feeling of being small in front of someone rather than being small in front of everything. Is really what happened, which is instead of having the smallness and raging at the big person, it was 'I'm in the middle of this.' [Asthon] didn't feel separated from it... It was more feeling the place in the cosmos, rather than actual people going 'oh it's you' and you're like 'fuck'."

Of course, you can understand Ashton’s hypocrisy and disagree with the reasoning. That's fine, as long as you see their reasons and acknowledge that they exist. It may not make sense to you but it makes sense to the character.

[lavender-romancer]

Take Me Broken

Ascended Astarion x F! Reader

part one

As the wind howled in your ears and the dread rose in your throat, you ran from that place of suffering in hope of finding anything better. But you knew that sooner or later you would run back to him.

CW: toxic relationship, abuse, abusive themes, angst, suicidal and self depreciating thoughts.

AN: You’re not Tav.

For much of this you're still under enthrallment so the narration is sympathetic towards Astarion, this is no reflection on an opinion of abusers- it is a story that highlights the hypocritical cruelty of Ascended Astarion.

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

You were his first spawn. The first he chose to turn and hold at his beautiful mercy rather than just draining them. You were always his favourite, dressed in beautiful clothing and warming his cock when he needed you. As you were unable to remember your old life, this new one was your purpose with Lord Acunín as your master. There was an odd sense of order and decorum at the start, when your Lord wasn't consumed by his own bloodlust and greed. He was so beautiful, he still was, but in a different way.

If you could remember it you'd assume the first 50 years were the hardest. Adjusting to who you were and your role, having authority amongst your fellow spawn but ultimately having no real power. Without your Lord you had no power in yourself at all but he had never taken it away from you. He was mostly merciful. Never too violent but still affirming his authority whether that was enthralling you or as simple as grabbing you by your neck just to show that he could. But he was so kind, so accepting of your many faults as he let you have so much freedom. You were so thankful to your Lord.

As you wandered through the halls you began stumbling, feeling yourself being pulled towards the throne room. You knew this was your Lord exerting the mental hold he had over you, he probably wanted to show you the latest pretty thing your fellow spawns had brought him. Your brain was full of honeyed words from him: it caused you to see him as a God, it was distracting you so much that your enthraller seemed to have forgotten you also needed to walk. By the time you had it too the door you had to steady yourself against it. You couldn't remember a time where your own body felt your own, your mind, your skin, your touch- it was owned by him.

“She finally arrives!” Astarion announced as the doors opened, he leant back in his gothic style throne as a vampire Lord should, domineeringly. The crude edges of the chair were offset by the soft red velvet that accented the chair, probably soaked through with blood of innocents by this point. One thing you did remember from centuries ago was how disapproving your Lord had been at the lack of seating in the palace.

The long red and black patterned rug led from the door to him and it was littered with drained bodies, humans incapacitated and other spawns cowering between them. They often looked to you for help in some hopeless attempt for mercy, but you couldn't help them. You had no right to give mercy when you were with him. Through your stupor you could smell the blood, your upper lip rising to best your fangs as you imagined drinking blood once again.

“Yes, My Lord. I apologise I was struggling to walk.” You leant on the doorway for support, holding your side. In a moment he was by your side, a black mist highlighting his arrival as he picked you up in his arms.

“I can't have my favourite girl falling over. Especially not when these… wretches, still litter the fucking floor!” His eyes glowed red for a moment as he looked down at the other spawn who were still crying and bowing down.

Astarion reappeared at the throne with you in his arms and you rested against him. When he was well fed he was more gentle, well with you he was, the rest of them were always at his mercy no matter what.

“Did I miss a sacrifice?” You asked quietly, your head slowly becoming less fuzzy.

“Oh no darling, I just had the underlings go out and bring me some beautiful creatures to sample. I may have gotten a bit carried away. But I left one for you.” His smile was sickly sweet, he derived pleasure from being your only source to satiate your hunger. The more your head cleared your mouth began to involuntarily water, slowly you got up and stood at his side- still too terrified to stalk your prey before his word.

“W-which one, My Lord?” Your hands began to shake vigorously as the pointed tips of your nails dug into your skin. It had been oh so long since you had fed, he had made you wait so long that you would beg for it. It didn't matter that you understood how he would humiliate you, you'd do anything for just a taste.

“Oh my vicious animal, I kept a few alive just for you. But, there is a fee of course. I've been lacking some sport in my life,” he smiled at you devilishly and it made the anxiety rise up your throat. “You'll be fighting for the privilege to drink this body dry.” He nodded to one of the male spawns on the floor who was shaking even more than you- maybe from fear but probably from bloodlust. It was always harder for the newer spawns to control themselves, but especially in front of your Lord. His punishments were never quick nor fair these days, you assumed he'd grown tired of any insubordination after so many centuries that he didn't care how cruel he was.

This spawn was a lot newer than you, maybe turned in the last 20 years so he understood your importance. Whilst you were only a spawn your Lord was unlikely to let you die due to his overwhelming favouritism. When pitted against anyone else, it was assumed that you would come out on top. Over the centuries spent in the same place, the guilt subsided as life descended into the normality of murder. Your nails peaked into sharpened claws, painted black at your Lord's request, you ran your tongue over your fangs and tried to stop salivating at the thought of human blood. But as you approached the spawn -who was being enthralled into standing up- you had to catch yourself mid hunt because he looked as if he wanted to fold into himself. Astarion was so focussed on enthralling the man that he seemed to have lost control over you for a moment, only a moment but it was enough. Walking to the man's side you stood in front of him.

“Must we fight to the death, my Lord?” you asked, pleading with Astarion.

“Ugh,” He slouched back on his throne. “Why must you muddy every good thing with some kind of fucking begging? It could have been a nice quick death for him.” With a flick of his hand blood red energy flowed from his fingers to the man. He was forcefully slammed up into the high ceilings of the palace and then held there.

“Please don't do this, I'm sorry I questioned you. Please forgive me,” you crawled to Astarions feet hugging his legs to try to elicit some kind of emotional response.

“Oh, Pet. You honestly believe I'd listen and it's adorable.” He swiftly let go of the control over the man and held your face gently, his face was twisted into anger. Astarion's face was suddenly spattered with blood as the man's face smashed into the floor. Blood and viscera flew everywhere, you could feel the warm spray onto the back of your head. The gore was surprisingly spread around the room, colouring the dimly lit walls in crimson.

“I- w-why?” You spluttered but Astarion just held you by your jaw.

“Because, my beautiful spawn, I want it to be so.” he thrust forward and kissed you, biting your lip and drawing blood. You didn't know if it was punishment or just a show of power over you. Either way all you could hope was that he would wipe the memory of that man's face. His body was so broken and mangled by the fall that you were shaking as Astarion kissed you. Enthrallment was a high price but at least you didn't remember what happened whilst under his control.

“Do you need anything more from me, Master?” You stared up at him with eyes beginning to tear up.

“Come now, don't cry darling girl.” He stroked your cheek with his thumb. “I'll still let you feed, you always were going to win and I would hate for it to go to waste.” As you went to stand up he yanked you back down onto your knees with a crack, you yelped and dropped your head as you sobbed. “If you ever question me in front of others again, life will be very different to the heaven you're living now.”

He leant back again satisfied with the gore that laid before him, but not so much that he would leave you be. It was only a deep stare from him and you were under his control, he could care for you and love you. You had missed your Lord's beautiful grace, his generosity shown today. Standing with a smile you leant forward and kissed him deeply, placing your hand on his cheek. Turning around you pounced onto one of the barely alive humans, wrenching their head to the side by their hair before baring your fangs and drinking deeply. You locked eyes with your Lord and he looked so pleased for you, so proud of his little love.

The feeling was euphoric, a seemingly never ending tap of life force that gave you strength you forgot you had. Your body felt alive as the adrenaline of fresh blood made it's way through your system. You knew you were special to your Lord, why else would he have gathered lesser spawn to watch your gorge yourself? Yes, he wanted only you to be strong.

“My love, don't get drunk on him.” Your Lord smirked and you immediately moved back on your haunches with your hands on the floor to steady you. Blood pooled on your tongue and you swallowed before licking your lips, one stray droplet making its way down your chin. His control dropped and you collapsed to your knees, the energy from the blood had made you hyper-aware and you stared up at Astarion with new eyes. Your mind felt so clear, in that moment you knew you had to escape.

*°*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°•.˜”*°••°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”˜.•°*”°*

AN: This was a real itch I wanted to scratch for an evil Ascended Astarion. There's so much to be done with his characterisation and how even in the short time he's ascended in game he's already displaying insane controlling attitudes and hints of violence otherwise unseen i.e the kisses. I think it's interesting but, understand it's not for everyone, please refer to the content warnings above. Thank you!

[copper-16]

why do you reckon mapi and ingrid may be being more private with their lives? im not tryna be a freak or anything like that, im just curious if something happened for them to do that? or is it just a suspicion you have? again, not tryna come across as weird, i just wish the best for them and totally understand why they wanna be more private considering the eyes on them and especially more if something happened x

Okay so we did end up getting a birthday post (I’ve never been more thrilled to be wrong about something!), but I definitely have seen some discourse about Mapi and Ingrid becoming a little bit more private on social media. Not a whole ton, obviously they still post each other quite a bit (I haven’t really noticed a difference to be honest), but I have seen some people discussing it for some reason.

I think it feeds into a bigger discourse of footballers and the line between their private versus public lives, and where fans fit into that.

Mapi and Ingrid both have been very open in the past, but they are both getting more famous. And with more fame, comes more online abuse and just overall more dialogue about their lives and choices. Perhaps they just want to live their lives as they please, without having to appease or perform on social media, or be subjected to any sort of abuse/homophobia/whatever it is. Everyone has their limits.

I think it’s important for people to remember that these are real people, with real lives, and we cannot grow so attached to people or the idea of a person in our mind that we aren’t still respectful of their boundaries. I probably sound like a huge hypocrite saying this, but as much as I enjoy writing about these women, I don’t find myself in any sort of like para-social relationships with them, and I caution anyone against growing so invested. When I write about them, I’m not attempting to write about real people, but more along the lines of a character that is based off of that person (utilizing the fact that my audience already understands the characters and often the setting, and I don’t have to do that myself). Thats one of the reasons that fanfiction can be so enjoyable for people to write and read, is this idea that it’s easier to understand because both the author and audience already have an idea of the world/people/setting, and the author doesn’t have to spend the time and word count setting that up. It’s not that writing about these people is us trying to invade their lives or change history, but rather utilize our own creativity to think of our own stories. No writer, including myself, should ever claim in this sphere of writing to be writing the truth, because we don’t know these people!

I know there has been a lot of discussion on invasions of privacy, and I might get some push back on this but I figured I would state my own thoughts. People are more than allowed to disagree, I think there’s room for healthy discussion without being cruel toward one another:

I don’t see that big of a problem with writing about or discussing football and footballers on platforms like Tumblr and ao3, where the chances for these people to actually view what is being discussed is very, very low. In my mind, players would at that point be seeking out that information, and that is their choice and within their boundaries to do or not do, as they see fit. People are naturally curious, they have questions and want to connect with others about things they enjoy, and I see platforms like Tumblr and ao3 as a way to do so. People can learn, discuss, debate, etc with the freedom that these players are not on the platform, and will therefore not see what they are saying. I think it’s healthier that way, for all involved, to have a level of disconnect. I do think there are still lines to be drawn on these apps, I’m not saying it’s a free for all, but I tend to be more forgiving of potential mistakes or more risqué posts because I doubt that these people will ever see them.

I personally see a much larger problem being had on platforms like Instagram and Twitter and TikTok, with heavy amounts of abuse and overly harsh criticism about honestly all aspects of their lives. There is a difference between discussion and constructive criticism and bashing someone, or being abusive. Players see these things, we clearly know this, they are people too with feelings and bad days and people need to respect that and have some empathy. I find fault with Tumblr posts when someone on twitter/instagram/tiktok pulls a post and put it on one of those platforms. Why people would do that and open players up to seeing these things is beyond me, and feels disrespectful to all parties involved honestly.

I also see a lot of issues on those apps with invasion of privacy. My take on the issue has always been if a player has posted something, that is public knowledge that is allowed to be consumed, because they have made the choice to post and share that with the world. There’s a difference between scrolling back a few years to find a funny picture of a player when she was younger on her instagram page and ending up on her aunts friends Facebook page, digging up pictures from 2012 to use in some facet. Or taking something that someone has since deleted, or somehow getting a photo from a private account that might be a personal photo. There’s a line, and sure, it might fluctuate a little depending on the person because we all were raised differently and have different boundaries, but I still believe there is still a universal level of respect that can be upheld. We are not entitled to anything, the fact that we get to engage with these women and learn about their lives is a PRIVILEGE, and not a RIGHT. I think people often forget this.

Anyways, this got very long and waxy, which I apologize for. I’m sure I’ll get some pushback for this, because everyone feels a little differently on the subject, but this is simply where I stand. People are welcome to disagree and discuss as long as it is done so respectfully!

[wvrlock]

This post will get rather long, please bear with me while I post all three parts of it.

People have blocked me in the past few days, and I'd rather it is for my own words than by association. I owe that to my mutuals here who have not heard from me in a while, especially those who like to form their own opinions. And I owe it to myself, because I won't keep being hypocritical thinking and talking about how people should handle things like adults but not do it myself and fade without a word.

Racism isn't petty drama, but the way it is handled can be, as it works with everything. I am not here to defend Bunny, or the other person, whose name was not stated "for the sake of their privacy" but King @ anyway — I will keep their name private as for their wishes, and call them X.

The callout was initially intended as a way of raising awareness to Bunny posing as a black person, meant to protect and validate POC. Although I have had ooc contact with him, I honestly cannot tell if he was posing as black, or how they were doing that (I am not American, and what I know of black culture in my country is most likely untrue for others, especially US), so I won't question the many people who spoke of their experience. It did catch my eye, as an external observer, that a few times it was mentioned that he "never claimed to be black", only thought to be. I don't know him or any of the people affected, but I was left with the impression that these claims were a thing brewing in a different circle, and were never brought up to him until it exploded. I don't doubt it is true and harmful for the people affected, but I have yet to see proof that it was intentional and malicious. If you have it, and will be so kind as to educate me, I would want to see it.

He addressed it in his own blog, all of the claims from the callout blog, so they weren't a secret even to his followers outside the bg3 rpc. He mentioned the past callouts, the sexualization of his character and pretending to be black. I think people are smart enough to make their own minds after seeing it there — if they thought he was black, now they knew for sure he wasn't, if they had sensed something odd with the sexualization they knew they weren't alone, and for the past callouts… I had been following Bunny for a while, and it isn't the first time I have heard about them from him. They were not public, but they weren't a secret either.

When I asked for the callout blog, I wanted to see proof of the things he had said, to cut ties with him after reading the testimonies of the affected people and forming my educated opinion. But I found nothing. All of it was telling me that what Bunny said was true: people saying they believed him to be black, people uncomfortable by the sexualization of his muse, and victims of his past. It gave me exactly nothing, except the word of strangers. Sure, I can trust POC's word about this or that being racist, because they know better. But I want to know what 'that' is. As a person who interacted with Bunny, and as a white person who writes some POC and highly sexual characters, I am not interested in "the drama", I want to know what they did wrong so I can learn from it: make sure I don't do it myself, educate my friends, stay away from others who replicate that behavior.

I thought at that point the deed of "keeping the rpc safe" was done. People had their thoughts validated, the person in question had addressed the issue, and most importantly he had added it to his rules. If it was indeed a malicious, intentional racist move, it had no room to ever happen again, and even followers from other rpcs knew of the claims and could form their opinion.

I positioned myself after Bunny's last post, when the issue of misgendering was mentioned, in his tags. I cannot possibly believe that none of the many people publicly or privately involved with the callout read this post. Be said he uses he/they pronouns (and those who follow him know that he's been using he more prominently as of late), and she is reserved for close friends. All over the callout blog he is referred to by the wrong pronouns, not just by people in screenshots, but for OP as well — recently for the excuse that "he has used them in the past, and it is what everyone else is using", but never once correcting it or addressing it. Perhaps people will call this a stretch, or a "desperate excuse to defend a racist", especially coming from a cis woman like myself, but this is a hard line for me, so I don't care. No matter the claims, no one deserves to be misgendered over and over again by dozens of people on a viral blog. It is cruel and dehumanizing. Even if there wasn't a conscious, malicious reasoning by OP, I can't possibly believe no one involved knew he was being misgendered — no one knew beforehand, or read his post, or got anons mentioning it? I don't know if they didn't speak up, or if someone did and wasn't listened to. I don't care. This alone makes me sick, and I don't wish to keep interacting with people who have seen this and did nothing about it.

[amjustagirl]

castles in the air: chapter 3 

chapters: one.// two.// three.// four.// five.// six.// seven.// eight.// nine.// ten.// 

pairing: kuroo tetsuro x f! reader  genre: uni romantic dramedy, oodles of fluff  wc:  warnings: none  summary: kuroo is your pain in the ass classmate. nothing more, really.

Kuroo Tetsuro is a menace. 

He laughs too loud, straddles the line between human and hyena in his amusement so often that you can’t go out in public without being stared at by a group of chattering obaa-chans, as if his rooster head didn’t attract enough attention anyway. He lobs insults like it’s method of self-care - be it Sato-san, who he’s termed as a self-important dickhead after one too many flubbed balls, or Daishou Suguru, who he labels a snake bastard, a nickname he mutters often after a practice match with said wing spiker’s university. 

“Could you try to be a little more polite”, you point out after he spends five minutes during a precious study session grumbling about Daishou cheating yet again, or Sato flubbing a receive and blaming it on his block. It’s hypocritical of you, you know - considering you have your own choice of insults for him, but it’s the principle of things. 

“I highly doubt your ears are too tender for my words, considering you called Sato a misogynistic prig to his face when he asked why you’re so good at math - I quote - even though you're a girl”, he replies, smirking in delight having called your bluff. 

“He deserved it!” 

“Well”, he points out, utterly reasonably. “Daishou and Sato deserve to be insulted by me too.” 

At the very least he’s alright to work with. More than alright, really, if you set the bar to Sato-san, who spent project meetings drooling on the library bench, who couldn’t even read the script you prepared for him with suitable gusto. You even had to step in to answer all the questions to salvage your grade. Kuroo’s smart, you knew that from the minute he answered a professor’s question perfectly during a lecture, despite his eyes drooping, half mast, despite the question requiring a series of tricky mental calculations. And he’s responsible enough to pull his weight and then some, putting his devious mind to work to charm both the professor and his imagined marketing audience, even if you might have ethical qualms about his tactics working too well in real life. 

So alright, Kuroo Tetsuro is a menace, even if he’s a pretty good work partner. You’ll give him that. 

It still doesn’t explain why you’ve let him worm his way into your life so easily. 

You’ve never been one to make friends easily. Books, not actual human beings, have always been easier to get along with. After all, if you don’t like a particular storyline, you can always just put the book down. It’s messier with a person, especially when you have to maintain a veneer of social proprietary that your mother never quite drilled down into you. It’s exhausting to navigate social niceties and the hierarchy in school, pretend to be interested in the banal things your classmates were interested in - boys, make-up, dresses - you’d much rather hide in some corner and finish your lessons and homework so you’d have time after school to lose yourself in your books and dream about some faraway land instead.

So it’s especially queer that you consider Kuroo a friend, especially when he clearly falls outside of the mould of your usual friends - popular, sporty, attractive (did you just admit that? You’ll excuse it as a brain fart -), even though he’s secretly a nerd deep down inside. It must be the amount of time you were forced to spend with him, all in the name of acing your projects. But there’s no excuse for project meetings blooming into study sessions with him, he integrates himself with your usual study group, and suddenly, you realise you’re taking turns to foot the bill at the ramen store you frequent together at least once a week. 

He’s even managed to batter through your defenses to breach your last bastion of privacy, your bedroom - to study, that’s his feeble excuse when the librarian kicks the volleyball boys’ team out for being too loud. 

“What on earth is this”, Kuroo scrunches his nose up in mock disgust, pointing a finger at the rows and rows of books stacked in your tiny dorm room, arranged neatly by author’s name, colourful covers brightening up the otherwise dull, dreary room. This is precisely why you shrieked and barred him entry, but he wedged his foot into the opening you’d left when you stuck your head out to check who exactly is banging on your door at exactly ten fifty-two on a Monday night, and refused to let up until you gave in, flinging yourself on your bed in defeat. 

“They’re books” you say, flopping back on your bed. “Surely you’ve seen one before?” 

He doesn’t take the bait, lifts the most luridly illustrated tome to the light. You spot a chiselled chest on the cover, oiled to perfection. 

Oh no. 

“Romance on the seven seas? Seriously? Little miss top student reads trashy romance novels like that?” he leers down at you, pointing at your beloved pirate-chan series of books, purchased as a seventeenth birthday present by A-chan, your best friend from high school. You thought it looked kind of trashy, but you got swept off your feet by the thrilling tale of a princess, kidnapped by a bunch of pirates while sailing to her fiance’s kingdom, and ends up finding her love for sailing and the very dashing pirate captain.  

You crouch on your bed, using it as a springboard to launch yourself at him. He dodges easily, laughing as you jump up and down, trying to reach your beloved book to no avail. 

“What’s wrong with a little escapism?” you snarl, snatching up a pen, brandishing it at him like a cutlass. “Pirate-chan has spent many happy hours with me alright -”    

“Giving you the complete wrong idea about romance, I bet”, he snarks.

“Giving me the right idea of what to expect from romance”, you retort.

He tugs at your ponytail, laughing as he finally drops the book into your waiting hands. “I’ve never pegged you as a hopeless romantic.” 

Neither did you, but you’ve been sucked into a world of fictional romance and horrendously dashing leading men, and it’s just nice to build your castles in the air, imagining yourself in the shoes of the heroines, dreaming of gallant knights and princes in shining armour.  

“If I don't find romance in real life, at least let me entertain myself with my imagination. You’re not allowed to judge me, Kuroo Tetsuro - not with the amount of shitty chemistry jokes you’ve subjected me too!” 

“Touche”, he chuckles. “At least I’ve steered clear of making jokes about the periodic table - they’re not exactly my element.” 

“Well, who knows. Maybe romance might be your element!” 

At that he tosses his head back, laughs even though there’s a trace of a sneer on his face. “I’m too down to earth for that, princess, so I doubt it. But you can try me”. 

His expression should deter you, you should give him your most ridiculous novel just to laugh off your reading habit as a joke, but you’re so intent on proving your point that you take him at face value, rifling through your collection, running your finger along paper covers to extract your all time favourite. You picked up on a whim one day after school and fell in love with the anthology of tenderly written stories of lovelorn girls and boys who’ve never been taught to love, of heartbreak and learning how to grow in spite of and because of love.

“Here you go”, you lay it gently on his lap. “Let me know if you like it.” 

“Will I be moved to tears when I read it?” 

“That’s up to you”, you tell him. “If you’re a cold, unfeeling robot, incapable of love, probably not I suppose.” 

“Maybe I am”, he replies, a little too seriously. It makes you regret your harsh words, even if you meant it as a gentle jibe at him. 

“Nah, I don’t think so. I bet a ramen dinner that you’ll end up sobbing over your pillow when you finally finish it.”

“You’re on - I want the full works, extra bamboo shoots, eggs, char siu, the whole lot, and I don’t want to hear you complain that I eat too much.” 

“Oh my god - greedy guts!”

“Hey! You made the bet, not me - “ 

“You better not lie - I’m going to test you on which bits actually made you cry, cos I don’t trust you -”  

You’re relieved when you both slip easily into your usual pattern of bickering, when he laughs, loud and unrestrained, even though your next door neighbour bangs on your wall to tell you both to keep it down. 

Kuroo Tetsuro is a menace, especially when he’s his naggy, old-man self. 

“Did you just go out jogging alone?” He demands when he catches you coming back from another early morning job around the campus. It’s one of the few hobbies you’ve kept since high school, going for a run when the sun still slumbers, when the world is at its quietest, because it’s in the near silence that your frazzled mind can reset. 

“What about it? Aren’t you getting ready to go jogging yourself?”

His tracksuit and running shoes are a dead giveaway of his hypocrisy, but his frown deepens. You want to scratch the itch to tell him he has no right to tell you what to do anyway, but he beats you to it. 

“What if something happened to you while you’re out running by yourself? It’s so early no sane person’s even awake - what if you fell down and twisted your ankle. What then? Or worse - what if some stalker decided to steal you away, which come to think of it, would be pretty easy considering no one would even hear you call for help -” 

His fears are unwarranted considering Tokyo’s crime rate, and he scoffs when you tell him so. 

“Low crime doesn’t mean no crime, sweetheart. Not to mention low crime rates don’t account for stray pebbles or cracked pavements that can trip you up.”

“You make it sound as if I don’t carry my phone around with me when I go for a run. What do you take me for - a fool?” 

He stares down at you, indicating that the answer to your rhetorical question is a resounding yes. 

It’s not as if he’s your dad - not that your old man could’ve stopped you from doing exactly what you want, he’s always been over-indulgent with his precocious oldest daughter, but you haven’t accounted for the fact that Kuroo Tetsuro is as obstinate as you, possibly more so. Because the very next time you open your door to put on your running shoes, his door swings open, and he steps out, stretching languidly. 

You curse the hapless school administrator who assigned you to a room three doors down from Kuroo Tetsuro. You ask the gods to ensure that he only drinks lukewarm water in summer, ice cold water in winter. You ask the gods to smite him with the indignity of wearing his shirts inside out, the minor annoyance of never being able to match his socks. 

“I didn’t ask you to babysit me!” 

“It’s too early to quarrel”, he complains, shooing you forward. 

“I’m not quarrelling! You - you just leave me alone, you hear me?!” 

Kuroo doesn’t even bother replying, waits until you’ve tied your laces before silently following you, a looming shadow that stands out even in the blue-dark moments before dawn. You set a pace that should be punishingly slow to a lifelong athlete like him, but he doggedly keeps pace, follows you until your breath puffs out like smoke, white in the pink-gold rays of dawn, and you refuse to concede defeat when even you return to the dorm. 

“You’re wasting your time by following me”, you tell him, annoyed. “I’ll be fine alone, I’ve always been -” 

“It isn’t a waste of time to make sure a friend of mine doesn’t end up dead in a ditch out of sheer stubbornness”, he replies, wiping his sweat casually, the first light of the sun catching the gold flecks in his amber eyes, making your mouth go dry. 

That’s the first argument you willingly lose to him. 

You make his life easier by waking up an hour later instead of your usual hour, and you try to actually set a pace that leaves him a little breathless, even though you’re usually wheezing on the floor by the end of it. But it’s not too bad to have a companion on your runs - the pavement is wide enough, he teases, but he has the uncanny knack of knowing when to fall quiet when you need the time to clear your mind, usually when schoolwork or insensitive classmates get you down, and knowing when to monologue about his life as a distraction whenever you’re on the verge of giving up on your jog. 

“So Sato-san is a dick but he’s a pinch server - you know what that means right”, you nod, because yes, Kuroo has spent many mornings explaining each and every position in volleyball, since he’s the only one between the pair of you who can actually talk while running, his fitness level is scary - “so I gotta practise our serve and block move with him, even though it’s such a pain to hear him run his mouth. And I actually have to humour him because he’s a senior. Kenma has a point, hating hierarchy in sports clubs -” 

“How’s practice going, now that your competition’s coming up soon?” 

“Absolutely brutal”, he pouts exaggeratedly, but there’s a spark in his eyes that suggests otherwise. “It’s been laps and blocking drills non-stop, and my obaa-chan thinks I’m gonna develop knee problems from jumping so much.” You agree with his very wise obaa-chan, and he pats his own abused knees sympathetically when you tell him so. 

“But we’re gonna take championships, you just wait and see!”

You don’t really need to wait and see, because Waseda has taken the championship the year before that, and the year before that, the glass cabinets in front of the volleyball gym groaning under the weight of gold trophies. The boys’ team is stacked with talent, and the fact that Kuroo is even a starting regular is pretty amazing, but you’re not going to deal with his preening if you tell him so. 

“I’ll be sure to watch it when it’s broadcast on TV. Though if I have to see Sato-san’s ugly face, I might throw a shoe at the screen, no promises.”

“TV?” Kuroo laughs incredulously, as if the past hundred years of technological advancement mean nothing to him. “You should come watch it in real life, it’s so much better. Man, the tension of matches is unrivalled - plus you get to hear the spikes being slammed onto the floor, react to thrilling receives in real time - courtesy of me, of course. TV doesn’t do volleyball matches any justice.” 

“I couldn’t get tickets”, you admit when he’s finally done gushing about the magic inherent in volleyball competitions. You’re not lying. Most of the tickets were snapped up by Waseda’s very dedicated cheer team and fan club, such is the popularity of the boys’ team. You were in class and missed the rush, but you weren’t about to let Kuroo in on the secret that you were eager enough to watch that you cleared your schedule in advance. 

“You couldn’t get any tickets?” He repeats blankly before his eyes widen, mouth falling open. You decide you really hate that stupid expression on his face, the one that wavers between pure shock and unadulterated delight. “Wait a minute - you tried to get tickets? You’d willingly watch the matches? You?!” 

“That’s it I’ve changed my mind” you shoot back, crossing your arms defensively. “I’m not watching your shitty matches, hell no -” 

“Will you really come, if I get tickets for you?” 

For all his teasing, his words are heartbreakingly sincere. You gulp a mouthful of cold air, waits until it settles uneasily at the bottom of your belly. 

“Yes”, you say, so quietly that your own ears have to strain to pick it up. 

He doesn’t smirk at you as you feared, just shoots you a smile that’s actually open, brighter than the first rays of the sun peeking over the horizon, so bright that you actually have to drop your gaze on the ground. 

That probably marks the point when Kuroo Tetsuro becomes a menace to your heart. 

True to his word, he produces a ticket for you, telling you that of course the players would get their own tickets to distribute to family and friends, and you do end up going, because you promised, after all. Never mind the amount of prep work that you’ve insisted to yourself you must do before exams roll around, never mind the ridiculous amount of sleep you’re giving up, just to spend hours watching a friend of yours play a game where twelve grown men chase after a colourful ball. 

You gasp when he leaps to slam the ball into the ground, the earth shaking at the point of impact. You watch as he defends with dogged patience, attacks with deadly precision, confounds the blockers across the net with a shit eating grin that you realise, to your horror, you’ve grown to become very fond of. 

It’s also just your luck to have chosen a seat that’s in front of an elderly couple, decked out in Waseda’s dark maroon, holding placards with Kuroo’s name brightly emblazoned across it. You wouldn’t have approached them during the break if not for the way they both look around helplessly at the sprawling arena, obviously lost in the sea of screaming fans and over-enthusiastic players from opposing teams. 

“I’m a friend of Kuroo”, you bow politely. “Can I help you?” 

Unlike Kuroo, they’re exceedingly sweet, nodding and asking you where the washroom is (you immediately grasp obaa-chan by the arm, offering to walk her there when you notice she’s a little unsteady on her feet), where they can get some refreshments (you insist they stay put, run to the onigiri stand to buy whatever they desire, your heart warmed by the fact that they pat your cheeks and call you a kind girl). You sit by them for the rest of the matches that day, cheering with as much gusto as them, Kuroo’s grandfather bellowing every time his grandson scores a kill block, Kuroo’s grandmother leaning back with satisfaction when he pulls off another thrilling save.

Two hours pass in a flash, pins and needles stab your legs, making you yelp when you finally stand up. 

“Will you tell Tetsuro that we’d like to say hi to him, if he has time? I’m sure dinner’s out of the question, he’ll have debriefs and meetings tonight, but we were hoping to see him at least.”

They remind you so strongly of your own grandparents that you don’t even dream of saying no to them. You make them promise to stay on their seats before ducking through the crowd, intent on locating one rooster headed boy so you can relay their message. 

“Kuroo!” 

He turns to you, still surrounded by his teammates. Sato sends you a withering look, and you reciprocate, expression darkening before realising you’ve stepped foot in a giant’s lair, but your trepidation vanishes when Kuroo greets you with his usual shit eating grin. You’re back on familiar ground. 

“Have I impressed you yet?” 

“Flirt with your fanclub, not me”, you retort, even though your heart’s beating at warp speed. “I’m here cos your grandparents wanna see you.” 

“Ah”, he replies, surprised. “You met them?” 

“They’re lovely, unlike you”, you inform him sourly, and he just cackles before telling you that he’ll be around to say hi to them if they stick around for a bit, and he does, loping up the stairs with his long legs to loop his arms around them, tips of his ears turning pink when his grandmother pinches his cheeks, when his grandfather ruffles his hair and tells him he’s proud of him.  

“I can’t stay for dinner, unfortunately”, he tells them with genuine regret on his face.

His grandmother shakes her head gently. “Don’t worry Tetsuro-chan. We’ll have dinner instead with your lovely friend - why haven’t you introduced her to us earlier..?” 

“Obaa-chan, don’t bother her, she’s probably busy -” 

“I’d love to”, you interrupt. Kuroo snaps his mouth shut, an unreadable expression on his face. “That is - if you don’t mind my company?” 

His grandparents assure you that they very much would not mind at all, and you’re swept off with them to a little diner serving delicious grilled saba over a bowl of fluffy rice. You see where Kuroo’s obsession with eating fish comes from now, as his grandfather leans back in his chair, burps softly in satisfaction having polished off the entire fish, bones and all, his grandmother chastising him for his lack of table manners in front of you. 

You laugh, telling them that hardly anything they could do could scare you off, given your inauspicious first meeting with their grandson. His grandmother shakes her head in resignation when you detail how he’d stolen your precious katsudon, and mutters that she’ll ban him from her dinner table on the weekend to teach him a lesson. 

Caught up in the moment, you smile wickedly. “There’s really no need for that. I stabbed him with my fork and made him buy dinner”. Then your smile drops, because there’s no way any grandparent would take kindly to their grandchild being stabbed, never mind that you did so with a kitchen implement - 

His grandfather cackles, the hyena type of laughter that sounds so eerily like Kuroo that you have to stop yourself from whipping your head around to scan the diner to see if Kuroo the younger decided to skip his team’s meetings and dinner to show up instead. He very obviously isn’t, and your shoulders drop from its place around your ears. 

“It’s good someone’s around to liven things up”, his grandma says. “Kuroo used to be such a quiet child until he made friends with Kenma-kun, and then his volleyball team - he was captain y’know? Such a good, responsible boy, and now I’m glad he’s met you too.”

“I -uh”, you think about the stories they’ve told you about Kuroo Tetsuro sketching his journey from a quiet obedient boy breaking out of his shell to his current, smirking, confident self - though from the sounds of it, he’s still their dutiful grandson whom they dote upon to no end. You’re truly glad Kuroo’s not around to hear you praise him, you’ll never live it down. “He’s a good friend. I’m glad to have met him.” 

His grandparents beam at you. 

It makes the decision to accompany them to a nearby shrine too easy, standing beside them as they bow deeply twice, clap their hands together solemnly, seeking the gods’ blessings for their precious grandson. You snatch up a victory charm when their backs are turned, dropping a couple of hundred yen coins into the temple’s coffers, because - well. You’re not ready to admit to yourself why you’re clutching said charm so tightly in your hand even when you wave Kuroo’s grandparents off, why you can barely look at him when you knock on the door at night to press said charm in his hand - 

(it’s just like your stories - the princess sending the knight fighting in her honour with a lock of her hair) 

“I didn’t want you to fall over and break a leg tomorrow”, you tell him. “Would be a waste, especially since you’ve already spent most of your time practising instead of studying.”  

“Then maybe you should’ve gotten a health charm instead of a victory charm”, he snorts, taking the colourful fabric from you. His thumb brushes against your palm, and you repress the shiver that creeps up your spine, but you’re helpless to stop the flicker of warmth against bare skin. 

“But thank you. I appreciate it.” He scratches the back of his head. “And thanks for taking care of my grandparents too.” 

“They’re very nice”, you answer, and in order to quell the rush of affection in your throat, you resort to your usual insults. “I don’t get what happened to you, in that case. Though I’m sure they tried their best.” 

You don’t really hear his indignant squawk that he turned out alright, thank you very much, because he’s standing far too close to you, and you’d really prefer not to babble whatever nonsense your first schoolgirl crush might possess you to say, something like how you’ve never noticed how pretty his eyes are, dark irises flecked with gold, swirling like a sun storm, how you’ve never noticed the perfect cupid’s bow in his lips, the cut of his cheekbones, sharp enough to cut marble. 

You just bid him goodnight and goodbye before running back to the refuge of your room, thankfully earning a break from him until the competition’s over, because he desperately needs to sleep before yet another round of matches the next day and the day after. You don’t get a chance to talk to him again until his team wins decisively, three-all against Chuo University, even though you spend the entirety of each of his matches gripping his grandmother’s arm in a death grip, his grandfather on the other side of her. 

The entire team is swarmed with well-wishers, and neither his grandparents nor you have any desire to wade through a sea of people, so you have yet another dinner with them, enjoying yourself thoroughly as they regale you with embarrassing stories of Kuroo when he was growing up, all over a hearty meal of rice and fish. 

He isn’t in his room when you return to the dorms. Unsurprising since he and his team will probably be up all night celebrating their win, hard fought as it was. You’re thankful for that, because you don’t think you can withstand the havoc his presence causes you, the confusion as to why the tips of your fingers start tingling when you watch him play, why you don’t feel the urge to slap his smirk off his face any longer, burning instead with the impulse to lean up on your toes and - 

Gods. 

You’re going to sleep right now, and wake up early for a run, hopefully without him so you can clear the cobwebs in your mind and get over this ridiculous - this ridiculous fixation on one Kuroo Tetsuro that you would do better without. 

Your phone lights up with a text. “Don’t go running in the morning without me!’ 

It’s a good thing your room is tiny, because all you really can muster is the energy for one large step before you flop, boneless on your bed. 

He calls your bluff and actually turns up on your doorstep when you crack the door open, ready for your usual run even though he’s visibly exhausted, dark smudges beneath his eyes. You thought you heard him (and some of his other teammates) stumble back into their rooms long past midnight. 

“Oh for the love of - you’re exhausted, I’m an adult, I can take care of myself, this is embarrassing -” 

He isn’t deterred by your protests, follows you down the steps, into the wide, open world, still too quiet, too dark. 

“And here I thought you’d stop to congratulate me first.” 

There’s something wrong with you for actually finding the smug grin directed at you attractive. You’d like to slap something, because it’s not fair that he’s making you feel like a lady in the romance novels, pining for her leading man - it’s not - it shouldn’t be your snarky, pain-in-the-ass of a classmate who never fails to annoy you with his snide comments and smug attitude and charming smirks and - help you are shunting your brain right into hell where it belongs - 

“Hellooooo? Cat got your tongue?”

“Congratulations”, you say flatly, before adding in a futile bid to return to your usual patterns of bickering and insults with him. “Y’know, your grandparents are so much sweeter than you.” 

“That means you find me somewhat sweet, that’s what I’m hearing.”

“You should clean your ears”, you snap, taking off into the dawn, hating that he catches up with you within a few strides. 

Kuroo Tetsuro is a menace to your heart, especially when you suspect it’s beating at maximum speed not because of your run, but because of him. 

m.list.~ taglist.~ a/n: fluffy goodness abounds, but does this state of affairs continue?

[weasleylangs]

swipe right / f.w

Summary: Finding your best friend and your biggest crush on Tinder is always awkward.  Pairing: Muggle!Fred Weasley x Muggle!Fem!Reader Warnings: Discussions of sex, language, alcohol, food/drink mention.  Word Count: 6.9k (this is the longest thing i’ve ever written)

AUTHORS NOTE / hiiiii... this is my first fic in SO long but thank you for waiting for me!!! a huge thank you to my lovely rosie @spacexcowgirl for inspiring this fic and also listening to me ramble on about it for hours on end as i was writing it and for also beta reading it guys this fic rly wouldnt exist if it wasnt for rose so.........

/ also, george’s girlfriend in the fic is named ‘em’ and she has no physical description besides also using she/her pronouns. i’m trying this out so even people who aren’t (primarily) fred simps can self insert in this fic!!!

taglist / @amourtentiaa​ @weelittleweasley​ @lumos-barnes​​ @lumosandnoxwriting​​ @loveboyhalo​​ @harrysweasleys​​ @freds-slut​​ @rcwenaclaw​​ @barneswidow​ @fandomhideout​​​

-------------

Y/N stared at her screen, the Tinder profile of Fred Weasley staring right back at her, teasing her ominously. She eventually decides to lock her phone to avoid the familiar and unwelcomed feelings rising in her throat. The last thing she ever expected to see during her mindless swiping at 1am was her best friend’s Tinder profile. 

She knows it’s hypocritical to feel this way but she’s also not stupid. She and Fred both have had their fair share of dates and hookups thanks to dating apps- they’re in the twenties and single after all. But she can’t shake how weird she feels finding Fred. Like she’s stumbled across something private.

Y/N unlocks her phone again, curiosity eventually making her cave after staring at her ceiling blankly for way too long. 

‘Pros: I’m an Aries (I’ve been told that's a good thing). Cons: I’m an Aries (I’ve been told that’s a bad thing).’

It’s a short and simple bio, much like her own but she has to stifle a choked laugh. She and George’s girlfriend have said these to both the twins and she feels a sense of accomplishment that she can’t explain. Almost like Fred thinking of her while he sets up his dating profile means something. 

She hesitates a moment, debating between swiping left and never thinking about Fred and dating profiles ever again and swiping right just to see what happens. Y/N’s definitely making it a bigger issue than it has to be, which is why she doesn’t realise when George’s girlfriend and her roommate suddenly appears in her doorway holding chocolate.

“Em, it’s 1am and you have work tomorrow?” She questions and the girl in the doorway shrugs, making her way into the room and sitting down without an invitation.

“I can vaguely hear you monologuing next door,” she laughs as she breaks a line of chocolate off the bar and hands it to Y/N. She groans, in her moment of panic she completely forgot about the fact it’s late and their bedroom walls are paper-thin. “All I heard was something about Fred and the word fuck. I hope I’m not interrupting anything…” she winks and Y/N cringes, Em’s usual 15-year-old boy humour shining through as she pops the piece of chocolate in her mouth. 

“You’re hilarious,” Y/N says rolling her eyes but she can’t deny the fondness that’s there for her best friend. “No, you’re not interrupting anything, rather the opposite actually, look.” She passes her unlocked phone to Em and Y/N wishes she could have captured the shocked look on Em's face.

“Fred has a fucking active Tinder?” She’s quickly swiping through his profile and she hates to admit he has good pictures, but when she gets to his bio she snorts and rolls her eyes. “That’s something you say, Y/N.” 

Y/N feels her face go red at Em’s comment. She’s acknowledged this already but when someone else says it she feels like she isn’t being as far fetched as she’s convinced herself. While she outright refuses to acknowledge her feelings for Fred to anyone who isn’t herself, she knows Em knows without having to tell her. Call it best friend instinct, ‘dating-his-twin-brother’ instinct, whatever she pleases, which is why when there’s a mischievous glint in Em’s eyes, Y/N immediately is reaching for her phone. “No.”

Em whines, rolling onto her back. “Why not, you’re so boring!” 

���I am not swiping right on Frederick fucking Weasley.” She feels her face becoming warmer as she says it. Em gives her a look as if to say ‘I believe you’ with a glint in her eye that makes Y/N know she doesn’t. “I’m just never going to open the app again!”

Em rolls her eyes but the fond smile on her face is unmistakable. “And do what, love?” 

Y/N falters for a second before shrugging. “Not perceive his profile. It’ll be gone into the abyss of people who live in London and I’ll never think about it again.” She’s smiling, thinking she’s concocted the most perfect plan.

-----

It wasn’t the most perfect plan, for when Y/N is hanging out with Fred two days later she’s faced yet again with the ‘Tinder Predicament’ as dubbed by Em. Fred and Y/N are sitting in their favourite park, the new spring weather of London on their skin as they soak up the friendly sun rays after a harsh winter. Y/N is laying on her stomach, the book open but she’s barely reading as she pretends to listen to Fred ramble on about only God knows what. 

It’s 11am, not too early for the park to be empty but busy enough that other people are turning up, mostly couples. Y/N tunes Fred out, quickly getting lost in her own thoughts. Do other people think we’re a couple? she thinks to herself. She knows if Em could read her mind she’d say yes and Y/N is quick to push the thought out of her mind. 

Everything is interrupted when her phone lights up with a ‘You’ve got a new match!’ notification and before she can hide it from prying eyes, Fred’s wolf-whistling. 

“You’ve got dating apps, do ya, Y/L/N?” he teases and Y/N wants the Earth to swallow her up, she can’t think of a worse situation to be in. 

“Yeah, don’t you?” The second the words leave her mouth she regrets them. Fred’s smirking at her, a signature smirk of his he only does when she knows he’s up to something. Unfortunately for her, she is on the receiving end of that something.

“Something along the lines of ‘looking for a golden retriever boy?’. Ring any bells, darling?” Y/N feels her blood drain from her body and Fred releases a laugh that can only be described as a full-body chortle. “You know I have one, darling. Besides, you popped up last night. I already knew.” 

Y/N groans. This shouldn’t be as embarrassing as it feels but it’s Fred and knowing Fred has seen her dating profile was low on her wishes for this week, or for her entire life for that matter. 

“Did you at least swipe right on me?” 

It’s said with a teasing manner, falling right out of Y/N’s mouth before she can stop it. Her curiosity always gets the best of her and she wants to kick herself for it. But she doesn’t even notice Fred’s slight falter, the red tint kissing his cheeks and emphasising the freckles across his face at the comment. “You’ll have to swipe right on me to find out.” 

She can’t tell if he’s joking. But Fred is always joking. So she laughs and pushes him slightly, “If I come across your Tinder profile, I’m reporting it.” 

“It would be a blessing from the universe for you to come across my dating profile. I’m sure you’d appreciate my bio.” 

“Let me guess. ‘6’3 if it matters’?” Fred scowls looking down at her and she knows she looks way too proud for that comment but she doesn’t care and after a few seconds, Fred doesn’t care either. He starts to feel a small shred of jealousy from knowing Y/N has a Tinder profile, but he swallows it, tabling it for later when he isn’t with her.

“Why do you have the app?” He blurts out, annoyed at himself for letting it slip out. “Just… Curious, y’know?” He adds on when he notices Y/N looking up at him with an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t really want to know, but the words are out there and the cute scrunch of Y/N’s nose as she thinks of an answer almost makes it worth it.

“Male validation, mostly,” she laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck when she hears Fred laugh along with her. “I don’t know, Freddie.” She says, exasperatedly. “I barely use it. What about you?”

“Sex, if I’m honest.” Now it’s his turn to awkwardly laugh because he knows he answered that way too quickly and a little too honest for his own comfort. Y/N’s been his best friend for years, probably knows him best besides George but she didn’t really need to know he uses his Tinder profile to hook up with people. 

When Y/N doesn’t respond immediately, Fred takes it badly. He knows she would never judge him, not about anything and especially not this, but his thoughts get the best of him and sometimes he can’t help it. He has no idea Y/N is in her own head, jealous other girls get to hold Fred at a distance closer than she ever will. 

He clears his throat and checks his phone to see no notifications besides a direct message from Lee Jordan. He knows George isn’t expecting him home- cursing his brother when he remembers George demanded the flat to himself (and in turn, also Em) today for a few hours. “Hey, uh. I’ve gotta go. Emergency with George apparently.” 

He knows he shouldn’t have lied, it’s not even a good lie but it was the first thing he thought of. He notices Y/N’s eyebrows furrow before she shrugs, nodding before closing her book. “That’s okay, I was getting tired anyway. I might pop back to my flat for a nap.” 

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Fred asks and his chest feels warm when Y/N meets his face with a smile. 

“Of course, Freddie.” 

She watches Fred leave, her thoughts getting the best of her. She knows for a fact there is no ‘George emergency’- she knows George is with Em probably being sick and in love and she’s sure Fred knows this too. The realisation Fred made an excuse to not spend time with her hits her like a truck, her mind frantically searching for what she could’ve possibly done to upset her best friend. 

“Fuck,” she whispers to herself, the second she realises.

-----

To: Em > if you come home tonight dont mind me being drunk x 

Y/N sends the text as she stands in the kitchen, pouring herself her second glass of wine before it has even hit 6pm. On her way home, she stopped by the liquor store, picked up her favourite wine and decided to drink away the anxieties of upsetting Fred.

From: Em > ill be home. ill pick up chinese on the way. save me some wine!!! x

She smiles down at her phone, knowing Em would always be there without even realising it. She sits down on their couch and turns on the television- old reruns of early 2000s sitcoms playing on almost every channel. 

It’s 20 minutes late when Em turns up. She’s nursing the Chinese food as if it’s a child as she tries to unlock the front door without dropping the food or her bottle of wine. She smiles proudly at Y/N the second she gets in, putting the food on the table before she grabs her own wine glass. 

“What happened today?” 

Y/N is caught off guard but she shouldn’t be shocked. She doesn’t usually drink and when she does, it’s very rarely without Em. “Nothing’s wrong!” she says, skulling the rest of her wine when Em gives her a knowing look.

“You were with Fred today and now you’re sad drinking. What happened?” Usually, she loves when Em is her all-knowing best friend, but right now she wishes she’d shut up. 

“Nothing happened!” She’s adamant to not say too much. She knows it’s probably all in her head, that she and Fred will be fine in a few days but when Em gives her one more knowing look, she breaks. “Okay, fine. I think I upset him today.” 

Em’s confused, to say the least. Fred, for as long as she has known him, has never been upset with Y/N- even on accident. She has the tall redhead wrapped around her finger. “How?” she questions, because she truly can’t think of a single thing that Y/N could do to hurt him. 

Em places Y/N’s food in front of her when she starts speaking. “We were talking about Tinder- don’t give me that look he saw a notification and it came up and he asked why I had it. I said I don’t know and when I asked him, he said he uses it for sex,” Y/N says softly, pouring herself another glass of wine before continuing. “I didn’t say anything when he said that, because… Well… You know why.” 

Em does know. She knew the second she became Y/N’s roommate their first year of University that she had feelings for Fred and she knew immediately Fred liked her too but Y/N’s never believed her. “You think he got upset you didn’t say anything about sex?” 

“I think he thinks I was being judgemental.” Em sighs at Y/N’s response. She loves both her best friends- they’re her favourite people besides George but she knows they can be idiots. They sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the forks against their Chinese containers before Em grab’s Y/N’s phone, unlocking it.

“Well if Fred’s using Tinder for sex, so should you!” she says matter-of-factly and when Y/N groans from the kitchen sink, Em speaks again. “It’s true! He likes you but won’t tell you, you like him but won’t tell anyone! Who’s a good meaningless shag going to hurt?” 

That’s how they end up in Em’s bed, cuddling under the duvet with ice cream and Y/N’s Tinder profile open on her phone. “You’re so fucking picky, holy shit,” Em says when Y/N scrunches her nose up at the sixth consecutive guy. “It’s a shag, not a hand in marriage, love.”

“They don’t do it for me!” Y/N is avoiding the elephant in the room- that she’s comparing every guy that pops up to Fred. “I have to be attracted to them for this meaningless shag you’re preaching about… See, he’s cute!” His name’s Cormac, he’s 21 so only a few years younger than Y/N and he’s not bad looking. 

“He looks like a douchebag!” Em exclaims and Y/N groans. 

“You told me to stop being picky!” 

“Stop being picky doesn’t mean saying yes to the first conventionally attractive guy we see!” Em exclaims as she swipes left on poor Cormac. Y/N gets up to pour herself and Em one more glass of wine each and she hears Em starting giggling to herself when the new profile shows up, hiding the phone from Y/N’s eyes when she walks over. Without even questioning Y/N, Em swipes right and immediately she starts howling laughing. 

‘New Match!’ the screen reads and Y/N feels her breath hitch when snatches the phone from Em’s hands and she sees who she matched with.

Fred, 24. 2km away.

“I remembered after dinner, you said he told you to swipe right to see what he did,” Em says proudly, and Y/N regrets even mentioning it to Em offhandedly. Y/N’s eyes are transfixed on the tiny screen. There’s no way he seriously swiped right, she’s sure it’s only a joke- people jokingly match with their friends all the time. “So here you go, Freddie swiped right on my lil Y/N/N.” 

Y/N shakes her head at this. “I’m sure he only did it as a joke. People do that when they find their friends on Tinder all the time!” she says, sitting back down on the bed and cuddling up next to Em. “You were telling me to swipe right on him last night, after all.” 

Em looks at Y/N and sighs, clearly sensing how uncomfortable Y/N is feeling right now from the confrontation of her feelings for Fred. “I was telling you to swipe right because I know you’re in love with him,” she says softly, not missing the way Y/N’s eyes soften at the mention of her feelings for Fred. “I’m sorry if I’d known-”

“Don’t apologise! I’m just going to ignore the fact we matched,” she says softly, unlocking her phone and immediately exiting from Fred’s profile. The tension from a few moments ago quickly dissipates as Y/N receives another match, this time from a boy named Neville who Y/N knows is friends with Fred’s little brother. 

“When did you swipe on Nev?” Em asks and Y/N shrugs. She knows she probably did it to be funny, like what she thinks Fred’s done to her, but the more she thinks about it, Neville isn’t a bad match. He’s nice, friendly and now he’s in his twenties, he isn’t bad looking either.  

“Nev’s sweet. If he asked me out I’d say yes.” She says. She isn’t lying- there’s been times she’s considered going on dates to avoid her feelings for Fred, to get over him once and for all but whenever it gets to that point, she chickens out. “I know you want a meaningless shag, but I think maybe a date would be a good idea. You know?”

Em nods, pulling Y/N closer to cuddle her and suddenly feeling bad about preaching for meaningless sex. “Maybe you’re more of a date before shagging kind of girl, and that’s okay.” 

“Yeah, maybe.” 

-----

Em’s fast asleep and Y/N’s overthinking next to her when she gets a message from a match. Y/N rolls her eyes when she sees the time reads 2am; knowing whoever's messaging at this time is just looking for a booty call but she opens the notification nonetheless.

From: Fred > i can be a golden retriever boy :) 

She smiles at the message, Fred’s presence always does that to her. She never expected him to message her on tinder considering she’s convinced it was just a joke swipe right, but this is probably just a joking message too. She checks his bio is still the same Aries joke before quickly replying.  

To: Fred > good thing im a big aries fan then ;)  > how tall are you though? im sure youre well aware it matters

She hopes Fred laughs at her messages because making Fred laugh is her favourite pastime. The three dots signalling Fred’s typing pops up and her heart starts to race.

From: Fred

> im 7’5 if its that important :/ 

She giggles and when doesn’t know how to reply after that, she exits out of their messages, but it’s not like she has to keep a conversation with Fred going. She’s trying to think of a funny message to send Fred when she gets another message; this time from Neville.

From: Neville > hi Y/N! i hope this isnt a weird time to message you, i just finished grading some work. i was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime this week? we were kind of friends at school, after all, and it’ll be nice to catch up :) 

The message from Neville is sweet, and she almost feels guilty reading it. Attached is his number and everything and Y/N feels her throat closing up. She would feel terrible going on a date with Neville despite what she claimed earlier, knowing her heart currently belongs to Fred. 

But Fred’s lack of interest in her is eating at her as much as her own feelings for him do, and she knows she deserves better than to sit around and wait for him any longer. If Em was awake the date would already be confirmed, she knows that much so she decides to say yes to Neville, to at least put herself out there. She can imagine the little Devil version of Em dancing on her shoulder as she begins to type out a reply to Neville.

She doesn’t even think to look at who it’s being sent to before clicking send. But by then it’s too late- she doesn’t even know how she ended up back in Fred’s messages but now she wants to roll up into a ball and die.

To: Fred > hi neville! id love to grab dinner one day, here’s my number and we can organise it tomorrow because im going to bed now! x

She’s staring at the message for so long she doesn’t even notice the ‘???’ she gets back from Fred. She quickly copies and pastes the message to the right recipient this time before plugging in her phone and rolling over to sleep.

Em’s slight snoring lulls her to sleep, thoughts of Fred filling her mind before she passes out for the night. What she doesn’t know is that while she falls asleep, Fred lays awake, staring at his ceiling. Contemplating the knowledge he has knowing Y/N’s potentially organising a date with one of  his little brother’s best friends. 

-----

Fred hates this feeling; this feeling of jealousy in his stomach that’s threatening to spill out of his throat. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about Y/N accidentally messaging him about a date with another person all morning and he knows George is getting annoyed with him. 

“Why are you being such a prat this morning?” George had asked when Fred scowled at his brother for simply standing in the kitchen. Fred had huffed as a reply, grabbing the milk for his tea before sitting down at their table to munch on his toast.

“Not being a prat,” he says, words muffled by the food in his mouth and George gives him a disgusted look before taking a bite of his own toast. “Do you remember Neville Longbottom?” 

George nods, of course, he knows Neville. “Ron’s friend? Super nice bloke. Think him and Hannah Abbott just broke up, why?” 

Fred shrugs, he’s almost positive it’s the same Neville now. “Think Y/N’s going on a date with him, that’s all.” When George raises his eyebrows, Fred speaks again, “Just wanted to make sure she wasn’t going on a date with a prat.”

“Wanted to know who she is going on a date with in general, more like it,” George mutters under his breath. He knows Fred better than he knows anybody, better than he knows his girlfriend and almost better than he knows himself. “You sure you’re not jealous?”

Fred squints at George. “Why would I be jealous?” Fred stands and makes his way to the kitchen to wash up his dishes and he almost drops them in the sink when George speaks again.

“Because you’re in love with Y/N?” He says it so casually Fred almost chokes on air. He’s never thought about himself and Y/N in that way. Sure they like to cuddle when they’re drunk and they spend every waking moment together but he’s not in love with Y/N.

Is he?

“What makes you say that?” Fred asks quietly, hoping to hide the red blush forming on his cheeks. George might be his best friend and twin brother but he knows he would never live it down admitting he has feelings for Y/N. 

“You two are worse than Em and I, and we’re actually dating,” George speaks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “When Em first met Y/N, she asked how long you and she had been together for, mate.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Fred says a little too quickly. 

“I’m sure it doesn’t, Freddie,” George smirks as he speaks, getting up to wash his dishes now. Fred stands in the kitchen, nursing his cup of tea as he contemplates George’s words. Sure, he always knew he had some kind of feelings for his best friend, but being in love was another whole ordeal. It means wanting long term commitment, probably a house together, maybe marriage, perhaps kids if Y/N wanted them and the longer Fred sits with these in his mind, he quickly realises he does want all that and even more with Y/N. He’s probably wanted it with her for a while and he just hasn’t ever realised.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, low enough for George not to hear but when Fred doesn’t have a rebuttal to George’s words he knows he’s accidentally sent Fred into an existential crisis. 

“Look, Fred. If Y/N going on a date bothers you, you need to tell her.” George knows he’s about to cross some lines that he promised himself he would never cross but it’s getting dire in his eyes. “Y/N likes you and deep down you know you like her too, even if you’re oblivious. She deserves to know and if you’re too much of a chicken to admit it to her, then you don’t get to be bothered about her going on a date with Neville Longbottom.” 

Fred huffs. He knows George is right, but he can’t help but feel like he truly noticed too late. He swiped right on her on Tinder hoping she would swipe right back and they could go from there. But he knows Y/N only swiped right to see if he had done it first, that she only swiped right out of curiosity and right now, Fred is cursing the app under his breath. 

“Well, fine, yes I like Y/N, but I can’t just stop her from going on a date. That’s controlling and mean.” Fred states and George just sighs. “I’ll talk to her after her date, if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

George stares at him. “Since when are you mister Que sera, sera, Freddie?” Fred shrugs, not understanding the reference George made. “Since when are you just letting it happen?” George translates when he notices the blank stare on Fred’s face.

“Since right now. I don’t want to come off controlling to Y/N.” Fred says. In actuality, even though he knows George would never lie to him, he’s scared. Y/N is his best friend and the last thing he ever wants to do is ruin his closest friendship all because of some jealousy. 

“Okay fine, but if she gets a boyfriend, I’m sorry mate,” George says and he knows putting the threat of losing Y/N romantically on the line is harsh, but it’s what he has to do. He’s watched the pair pine for each other for years and he’s sure this is the last straw. 

“We’re going out with the lads in a few days, by the way! Maybe you can stop moping enough for a shag!” George calls out and Fred flips him the finger as he walks off to his bedroom. 

-----

Y/N and Neville decide on getting dinner together three days later. It’s a Friday so neither of them has to worry about work or coursework the next day, which is perfect. Neville tells Y/N about his favourite Italian restaurant right near Old Street subway station in Shoreditch, so that’s where the pair decide to meet. 

It’s rather busy when Y/N gets to the station. Neville has apologised profusely for still being fifteen minutes away but she reassures him it’s fine and that she’ll meet him outside the station so they can walk to the restaurant together. 

Y/N’s on her phone, texting Em and telling her she’s safe when she feels a presence next to her. She tenses up quickly but she soon relaxes when she looks at the person next to her and realises it’s Fred. 

“Hi,” she says, smiling. She hasn’t seen him since the day in the park, but they’ve texted and called so she’s sure everything is fine. “What are you doing all the way on this side of London?” 

Fred smiles and shoves his hands in his jeans pocket before replying, “Grabbing a drink with the lads tonight, love. What about you?” His tone is casual and Y/N has to stop herself from checking him out. He’s dressed in a nice dress shirt, it’s orange and on anyone else, it would clash with his hair but Fred somehow manages to pull it off. He’s got a black jacket over the top of his shirt, alongside black jeans that show off his long and muscular legs on and his outfit is paired off with a pair of boots on his feet. 

He’s not making it easy to get over him, that’s for sure. 

“I’ve got a date,” she’s shy when she says it, looking away from Fred and then back down at her phone. The time reads 6:47pm and Neville’s train will be getting in any second now. She’s trying to get over Fred and the last thing she needs is Fred lingering when said date turns up. 

“Ah yes, with Neville, if I remember correctly,” Fred’s teasing and Y/N has to force a laugh out. She blocked out the fact she’d accidentally messaged him instead of Neville and was hoping he would forget as well. But this is Fred she was talking about, and Fred never lets up a chance to tease Y/N for something.

“Yeah, Neville Longbottom,” she says and she catches the look of recognition that flashes across Fred’s face. “He was friends with your brother in school.” 

Fred nods in acknowledgement while he can’t decide whether or not he’s happy with the confirmation that he was right. He’s sad and jealous, that much is obvious, but he’s a little happy. Happy that even though Y/N is going on a date with someone who isn’t himself, it’s someone he knows would treat her like she deserves. 

“Neville’s a good guy, I’m happy for you,” he forces out and Y/N smiles up at Fred and he wants to sink into the Earth. The smile on her face is one he wants to be the cause for forever. “I should get going, tell Nev hello for me!”

He pulls Y/N into a quick hug, presses a quick kiss absentmindedly on the top of her head before letting her go and crossing the street and making his way to the bar he’s meeting Lee, George, Harry and Ron at. 

Y/N watches him leave, dumbfounded. The kiss on the top of her head is nothing less than usual; Fred’s always been touchy with her but now it feels weird. All she wants is to call out to Fred and demand the redhead take her on a date instead. 

But before Y/N can do anything drastic, she hears Neville call out her name and she turns around quickly. He’s just as sweet and cute as she remembers and even if she wishes Fred was the boy she was on a date with, Neville is someone she would be friends with above anything. 

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long!” He says when he reaches her, kissing her cheek as Y/N pulls him into a hug. His presence is comforting and he smells like cinnamon and Y/N feels herself instantly relax.

“Not too long!” She replies as she begins walking towards the restaurant with Neville. During Spring, the cold weather still returns at night so their hands are shoved inside their jacket pockets to keep warm but they’re walking closely together. “I ran into Fred just before, so he kept me company.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Neville says as he grabs the door to the restaurant, “can’t have a pretty girl waiting outside a subway station alone.” Y/N feels her cheeks heat up at his comment. 

They’re quickly seated and wine is ordered. They’ve been placed in a booth right near the window, where they’re able to watch the City of London go by. “How’s teaching going?” Y/N asks when she remembers Neville recently graduated and got an immediate job offer at the Agriculture department at a college in Surrey. 

“It’s going well! I specifically teach the floriculture courses so I love it, of course,” Neville’s smile couldn’t get any wider. Y/N specifically remembers his constant fascination with plants and flowers in school and she couldn’t be happier for him to be doing what he so clearly loves, “What about you?” 

“Being hammered by my postgrad coursework,” she says, laughing and taking a sip of her wine. “My job at the bookstore near my flat doesn’t suck but I definitely don’t work as much as I used to, unfortunately.” Neville raises his glass, almost to say I’ll drink to that when the waiter comes over to take their order.

Dinner goes quickly, conversation flows easily between the two and soon enough the bill arrives and Neville grabs the cheque before Y/N can even say anything. “You can grab it next time.” 

Y/N falters at this. She knows she should say something to Neville; that this has been nice but there won’t be a second date. She’s too caught up in her panic and she’s beginning to curse Fred Weasley under her breath when Neville gently places his hand on the small of her back to lead her out of the restaurant. 

“Are you okay?” Neville asks when they get outside. He noticed the tensed look on Y/N’s face the second they got outside and when she nods and sighs he takes it as a sign to stop walking.

“This has been nice, Nev,” she starts and she feels terrible even though she knows it’s better, to be honest. “But I don’t think I’m-”

“Ready for a relationship?” Neville finishes for her, and he’s not condescending when he says it. He could tell even before dinner was finished that she probably felt that way and he doesn’t mind. “I don’t think I am either. But this was fun, was it not?” 

Y/N nods, smiling as the anxieties of hurting Neville wash away. “It was fun!” she says, “I hope we can do it again. Even as friends?” 

He nods back, a warm smile gracing his cheeks. “Of course.”

They walk back to the station together, promises of seeing each other again soon leaves their mouths as they walk to their respective platforms. 

From: Neville  > thanks for tonight. i forgot to mention, please tell me when you’re home safe!

She smiles down at the text, shooting Neville a reply of reassurance that she will before opening her messages with Em to let her know she’s on her way home. She’s jumping through her apps, Snapchat that she only uses for filters, Facebook she only uses to check the ‘Dogspotting’ group until she lands on Instagram. 

She sees a story from George and when she opens it, she immediately regrets it. It’s their friendship group, that much she expected but she sees a girl sitting next to Fred nursing what looks like a Gin and Tonic and Y/N feels sick. 

She immediately closes the app, pretending she didn’t see it. She has no right to be upset over this but it plagues her thoughts for the entire subway trip home.

That’s when she decides she’s going to demand answers from Fred. She doesn’t know how, or when or if she’ll even do it without Em forcing her to, but she knows she deserves better. That she doesn’t deserve to hang on the end of every touch, every word of Fred’s in hopes he’ll hold her closer than arm's length while she desperately wants more. 

-----

The next night, Fred’s laying on his couch in an uncomfortable position searching Netflix at 10pm when he hears a knock at the front door. He knows it isn’t George, or any member of his family for that matter and any normal person would ring before coming over this late at night. So when Fred gets up and looks through his peephole to ensure he’s not about to be murdered, he’s shocked to see an angry-looking Y/N.  

He opens the door and she’s immediately inside, pushing past Fred’s body and when she turns around, she has the most determined look on her face he’s ever seen. 

“I’m annoyed at you.” Fred’s taken aback, he tries to think back at their interaction the evening before, trying to piece together anything that would annoy Y/N but he’s coming up blank.

“What did I do?” He wearily asks and when Y/N purses her lips together and looks like she’s about to cry Fred has to resist the urge to apologise without knowing what he needs to apologise for.

“I’m annoyed at you because,” she pauses and takes a shaky breath, “I’m annoyed because I went on a date last night. I went on a date with the loveliest man I’ve ever met. And I spent the whole fucking time wishing I was on a date with you. And I’ve spent all of today debating coming over here and telling you that so I drank half of Em’s bottle of wine for some liquid courage and here I fucking am!” 

That’s the last thing Fred was expecting to come out of Y/N’s mouth. “Well, that’s not-” 

“I’m not finished.” She stares at Fred and he immediately shuts up. 

“I’ve been in love with you for years and it’s not fair on me anymore, Freddie.” Her voice is shaking like she needs to get everything out as soon as possible. “I need to know if you feel anything for me, even in the slightest, because if I need to move on, I’m begging you to be honest with me.” 

Fred feels his heartbreak at how sweet, how broken, how defeated Y/N looked standing in front of him right now. He can see the need for an honest answer swimming in Y/N’s eyes and he’s never felt braver to admit his feelings than he does right now.

“I’m an idiot,” Y/N scoffs but lets him continue, “because I didn’t realise how fucking in love with you I am until I almost lost you. I thought…” he pauses, looking for the right words and when his eyes meet Y/N’s, there’s a softness there that wasn’t there previously. “I thought what we had was normal; the cuddling, the constant need to be with each other, the constant subtle touches. But George knocked some sense into me.” Y/N lets out a breath as she laughs, of course, it was George’s doing.

“I’m in love with you, and I think I have been since we were 17. So I’m so fucking sorry, for ever letting you think you meant any less to me, my love.” 

Y/N’s eyes are overflowing with tears at his words and Fred panics for a second before he sees the biggest and most loving smile overtake Y/N’s face. “Fucking hell, you big dummy.” 

She crosses the room, quicker than she’s ever moved before and pulls Fred’s 6’3 frame into her arms. She feels Fred pull her away, only slightly, so he can look down into her eyes and cup her cheek with his hand. His thumb is providing comfort as it strokes across her cheek and wiping away any stray tears. 

She cups the outside of his hand with her own and brings her face to the side to kiss his palm. This is the closest the two have ever been and both their hearts feel like they could beat out of their chests at any moment. It’s the adrenaline from this moment that causes Fred to blurt out his next question, without any hesitation.

“Can I please kiss you before I die?” 

Y/N laughs as she looks up at Fred. She doesn’t even give him an answer, she just pulls the tall boy down before locking their lips together. They’ve both kissed plenty of people, had many first kisses whether it be with first dates or partners but they can both agree this is the best kiss either of them has ever experienced. 

Y/N is pouring everything she can into the kiss, knowing she will never get tired of the taste of caramel that she will forever associate with kissing the love of her life. She presses her lips harder against his, her tongue running along Fred’s chapped lips asking for more before he opens his mouth to massage his tongue with hers. 

Fred decides to be a tease, pulling back slightly before capturing her lips again and biting her bottom lip slightly. This action pulls a moan from Y/N’s throat, soft enough that Fred almost misses it but he can’t help but smirk into the kiss. He wants nothing more than to kiss Y/N for the rest of his life, but eventually, he has to pull away to catch his breath and the whine that leaves Y/N’s mouth might be the cutest sound he’s ever heard in his life. 

“I hope to God you know I’m never letting you kiss anyone else ever again, holy shit,” she says, cheeks flushed red and when she looks at Fred she thinks she’s fallen even further in love with him. His hair’s messy, thanks to her running her hands through it and his lips are slightly swollen. She thinks this might be the most beautiful she’s ever seen Fred in her life and if this is how gorgeous he looks after a few minutes of kissing, she’s secretly anticipating how gorgeous he’s going to look laying in her bed, naked. 

Fred smiles dopily down at her, “Don’t worry darling, I never want to be with someone who isn’t you ever again.”

[mizunetzu]

Heyo!! Can I request a Kuroo x male reader, where yn goes to give him a love letter one day, but he sees him with his new girlfriend??? And he’s like-sad and he tears up the note and he moves on??? But then one day kuroo asks to talk to him, and he confesses to reader, but since reader already moved on he doesn’t accept??? Angsty ending if you will 💔💔💔 thank you, Mr. Mizunetzu !!

Hi paola ily paola hee hee

——————

Kuroo x reader - you did once...

⚠️Warnings - Kuroo gets a gf, angst, not so much of a good ending?

Pronouns- male, he/him

You can find part two here!

——————

“(Y/n), can I talk to you real quick?”

(Y/n) looked up from adjusting his loose kneepad, and wiped a bead of sweat rolling off his face. He turned his head to his teammates still on their diving punishment, and looked back at Kuroo. They just lost to another school again, but he got his punishment done rather early. “Mm? Okay..?”

He rose to his feet, following Kuroo out the gym door. The walk to a secluded place far, far away from the main gym was silent and awkward, not to mention suspicious. If Kuroo wasn’t one of his good friends, he would’ve thought he was about to be kidnapped. Or murdered.

Eventually, they stopped where the fenced pathway met the grass. Kuroo stopped ominously, further proving (Y/n’s) ‘serial killer’ theory. He turned around, facing (Y/n), and leaned on the railing.

(Y/n) stiffly held his hands behind his back. “So...” he rocked on his heels, trying to seem as casual as possible. “...what did you...need...?”

He was met with no response. Kuroo, instead, gripped the railing tighter, his knuckles turning a pale white. His eyes were downcast and he was sweating like crazy. He looked like he’d seen a ghost.

(Y/n) stepped forward and crouched down, so he could see Kuroos face behind the mop that was his hair. He rested his palms on his knees, trying to decide what to say.

“...I...think your hair looks nice...today...”

If it’s one thing he hates, it’s awkward silence. Not to mention the suspense of waiting on someone to say someone possibly life changing. I mean, why else should he drag him out miles away from the gym during training camp?

“Uh-If we don’t hurry up, we’re gonna miss our next match-“

“I need to get something off my chest.”

(Y/n’s) throat closed up. It was simple. The secluded area, Kuroo flushed face, fiddling and chipping the rust off the railing. He didn’t know how he didn’t see it before. He’s been in this situation plenty of times, with girls he can’t even remember the face of. But oh how much he’d love to be in this situation a few months ago.

————

‘Just do it. just do it. God, just do it. Worse comes to worse, he’s straight. It’s not like he’s the type of person to de-friend someone because they like them!’

(Y/n) gripped the white envelope behind his back harshly, crinkling it on the corners. It had a red, heart shaped sticker on the seal flap, with the words ‘To Tetsu’ written in dark pink across the back.

Both Karasuno and Nekoma were bidding their new friends goodbye, all scattered across the parking lot of Karasuno. (Y/n) paced around awkwardly, looking for Kuroo’s familiar mop of black, messy hair. He was nervous, to say the least. Very nervous.

“Ne, Kenma,” (Y/n) placed a sweaty palm on Kenmas handheld game, pushing it down lightly and forcing him to look up.

“Mm.”

“Have...have you seen Tetsurou? I need to give him something.”

Kenma hummed in acknowledgment, and nudged his head to the side. Sure enough, Kuroo was there, off in the distance and talking to someone he couldn’t make out. His back was facing towards them, and his hand was on his hip. (Y/n’s) heart pounded even more.

“Th..an..k...y-you...” (Y/n) gave a lopsided, very stressed out smile, and limped his way over to Kuroo. Kenmas eyes were drawn to the extremely obvious love-letter being wrinkled by (Y/n’s) sweaty hands. He pursed his lips.

He then looked up to the petite girl chatting with Kuroo. It wasn’t visible in (Y/n’s) line of sight, but it was to Kenma. He almost felt kind of bad.

(Y/n) stopped dead behind Kuroo, his eyes fixated on the ground as he ran through his memorized confession for the millionth time that day. He tapped on his shoulder, keeping the letter flush against his back with his other hand.

Kuroo turned around, and that was when his eyes landed on the brown-haired girl wearing an obviously oversized Nekoma jacket. From context of the scene, (Y/n) supposed it was Kuroo’s. He gripped the letter tighter.

The girl walked forward and extended her hand out. Her bubbly aura practically suffocated (Y/n). “Hi! You must be ‘(Y/n)’. Tetsu was just talking about you! You two are like—buddy buddies right?”

‘Tetsu.’ That was (Y/n’s) nickname for him. Only he got to call him ‘Tetsu’...and who gave her the right to call him by his first name?

(Y/n) glanced at Kuroo. Kuroo shoved his hands into his pocket and grinned. It wasn’t his usual shit-eater smirk, rather a genuine, lovesick dopey smile. A smile (Y/n’s) never seen before, not directed at him at least. It was a sight he wanted to burn into his mind, but at the same time, he wanted to slap that smile right off his face.

“(Y/n), this is Yumi-chan. She’s our new manager.”

Kuroo stepped behind Yumimite, and draped his arms around her dainty shoulders.

“She’s also my new girlfriend~”

“Oh-hush it, you!” Yumimite turned around and berated Kuroo with small punches, earning a playful chuckled from the Kuroo. (Y/n’s) grip on the wrinkled letter loosened.

“...ahaha! Congrats..! When...when did you two get together?” If (Y/n) was good at anything, he was good at pretending to be interested in something. Maybe he should’ve joined the drama club instead of the volleyball club.

“Mm. We got together just last week. She gave me a love letter.” Kuroo patted the girl on her head, ruffling her neat brown hair and making her blush red. It looked like it felt nice. He wondered how it would feel to have Kuroo’s undivided attention, to be pat on the head like a blushing schoolgirl. To be a small, pretty girl next to Kuroo, to have the ability to call him ‘his’. All his nervousness simmered away, replaced by a strange ache of numb.

“Well, that’s awesome dude! Honestly, I don’t know how you managed to snag a girlfriend before me...” (Y/n) slouched dramatically, quickly hooking the letter in the waistband of his volleyball shorts and tugging his shirt over it. “Especially such a cutie like her! I’m (L/n), by the way...”

Kuroo chuckled, slinging an arm around Yumimite. “Don’t go flirting with my girl now. You have plenty of girls practically throwing their panties at you.”

‘Yeah...but I’m gay, Tetsurou. For you no doubt! I-I love you-!’

(Y/n) almost wanted to yell that out. And he almost did. But he chose instead to keep silent and laugh in response.

(Y/n) bowed slightly. “Anyway, it was nice meeting you. I just wanted to say hi to Tets-uh, Kuroo...”

Kuroo tilted his head at the use of his last name, but brushed it off when Yumi hooked her arm in his. The couple bid their goodbyes, as they turned around and walked off. (Y/n) followed suite, turning around robotically and marching off.

Once he was a good enough distance away, he stopped behind a trash can and fished the letter out from his sweaty back.

He watched as the big pink words ‘To Tetsu’ bled and distort with every falling teardrop rolling down his cheeks. The water expanded and smudged the ink lighter and lighter until the words were practically indecipherable. You couldn’t tell it was a love letter anymore. Especially because (Y/n) ripped and trashed it up til it was a pile of pink and white paper shreds.

He tossed the stray flakes of soggy paper into the trash bin, watching as it fluttered and twirled tauntingly down the trash can. He quietly scrubbed at his red hot face, probably soaking his shirt with his salty tears. He rested his hands on the edges of the bin.

“Okay...” (Y/n) stretched up, spitting onto the concrete. “I...wonder...if my favorite ramen place is open...”

Strangely he didn’t feel devastated, or heartbroken at all. He just felt sort of numb. He didn’t feel the need to blast heartbreak music and cry out on his bed for hours on end. In fact, he was glad. Albeit a bit raw, and maybe a bit tired, but glad.

He got closure for the confusing feelings bubbling down his throat ever since he’d met Kuroo Tetsurou. He got his answer, and even if it wasn’t the preferred one, it was something.

The recovery process was easier than most people would think. It only took a couple long days to get him back to his prime condition. It was a given, since (Y/n) had so much other things to be worrying about. Midterms, volleyball practice, his friends. It’s a given that he would move on the things that was no longer on his priority list.

And Kuroo Tetsurou was no exception.

——

It was kind of pathetic to see such a high strung man like Kuroo so shaky and nervous. Though, he felt the same way three months ago, spending the whole golden week perfecting a letter he never got to read. What a hypocrite he was.

(Y/n) cleared his throat. “So...what did you wanna say?”

“I-just,” Kuroo swallowed thickly. “Ah-I...give me a second...”

“Okay, take you time, Kuroo~” he stood back up to his full height, and leaned on the rail across from him. It was obvious they weren’t gonna get anywhere. “So...hows ‘Yumi-chan’ doing?”

“Ah. We broke up. She’s gay. She has a girlfriend now.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. Though, good for her for snagging a girlfriend. No offense.” Kuroo mumbled out a ‘none taken.’ (Y/n) continued.

“Was that what you wanted to talk about? Her breaking up with you?”

“No! Actually, I broke up with her first. And it was...it was kinda mutual.” Kuroo sharply inhaled. “But it does have something to do with what I need to tell you.”

How could he be more obvious. (Y/n) forced a smile. It felt mandatory now. “Really? That’s interesting. Do tell.”

‘Please...Please don’t say it.’

“I broke up with her...because I had these...feelings.”

‘Please don’t say it. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to see it. I don’t want to read it. I don’t want to know it.’

“And you know how she’s gay? Well, I think I am too.”

‘No shit Sherlock. I don’t wanna hear it. You’ve been fiddling around with your hands like a schoolgirl. Stop it, so we can just be friends like we used to be. Don’t make it awkward. Don’t make me hear it. Please.’

“And...well...”

‘Don’t make me look at your crestfallen face when I say no. It’s too much for even me to handle. I don’t want to see that.’

(Y/n) knitted his eyes shut. A fierce shudder threatened to rattle him and cover Kuroo’s mouth, but he kept still, as difficult as it was. He braced for impact.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

There it was.

(Y/n) pursed his lips and let his smile finally drop. Kuroo looked up from his trained gaze on the ground, only to be met with (Y/n’s) pitiful expression. (Y/n) never saw his face go from hopeful and love struck to devastated and heartbroken so fast.

(Y/n) cleared his throat. He was going to lay him down gently if it was the last thing he did. “...uh.”

He never said it’d be easy, though.

“If it makes you feel better...I did like you once, Tetsurou.” He only used his full first name during important situations, as he switched to using his last name instead of his first a long time ago. A lump grew in Kuroo’s throat.

Kuroo jabbed at his chest exasperatedly. “T-then what’s the problem?! We both-“

“The problem is I don’t love you. Not anymore.” Kuroo fell silent. He was so prepared to do anything it took to win over (Y/n), but after standing in front of him now, it was clear. Watching as he looked down at him with a pitying expression that made his brain go numb. He would get no where if he tried.

“...a-anymore? You liked me before? When!? Why didn’t I know?!” Kuroo grasped fistfuls of his black hair, a cold sweat condensing on his forehead. He was so animatedly desperate it was kind of sad.

“Not too long ago. Though, you kept me waiting since forever. And I thought I could wait forever.” A sorry chuckle emitted from (Y/n’s) lips. “I watched you go though girlfriend after girlfriend, Tetsurou. You even introduced me to Yumimite when I was going to confess to you. How do you think that felt? Even I got tired of waiting.”

“You...you were...” Kuroo had never felt so helpless. (Y/n) shrugged.

“I would give you the love letter I wrote for you that day, but it’s in a trash can somewhere. Ripped to shreds. And I don’t remember the words I wrote. I’m sorry, Tetsurou.” (Y/n) sighed and patted Kuroo on the head.

“You missed your chance...”

Kuroo’s eyes stung, threatening to unleash hell, but he promised himself he wouldn’t cry. No matter what. Instead, he rubbed the back of his neck and stood back up.

“I never stood a chance, did i?” Kuroo chuckled. It was a sad chuckle, one that made (Y/n) want to cry aswell.

“That’s the sad part.” (Y/n) pressed his lips into a fine line, turning it into a smile conotated with pity.

“You did once.”

——————

Go sit there and stare at the wall in silence as you feel bad for Kuroo getting rejected by you. Go on, stare. Maybe then I’ll consider a part 2 (and if people comment or reblog asking for a part 2, hee hee.)

[nejibaby]

Memories

Pairing: Neji x Fem!Uchiha Reader

Summary: There are a lot of terrible things that have happened to you as an Uchiha that you wanted to forget. But with Neji’s help, you’re able to move on and move along. Things have started getting better for you, however, once the Fourth Shinobi War was declared, time seemed to start running out.

Word Count: 2.1k

Memories - Part 1 | Deja Vu - Part 2

A/N: I didn’t exactly follow the plot and somehow it turned so angsty 🙈 Please let me know your thoughts~

There are memories you hold so dear that you refuse to have them tainted no matter what. Most of those memories are of the times you spent playing or training with your brother Shishui, his best friend Itachi, and Itachi’s brother Sasuke. Those times were the golden days for you; the best of the best, if you may.

Conversely, there are also memories that you just wish would disappear. They’re the memories of incidents you wish didn’t happen at all. They’re the type of memories that you push at the back of your mind, because you believe that if you think about it or even spare a single second for it, then it’ll be more real. Because you’re in denial. You’re in denial not only about the death of Shisui, but also of the Uchiha clan.

But then there’s a single memory you have that always stands out. It’s a memory that you both want to forget and remember.

The tragedy of the Uchiha clan had changed the only survivors — you and Sasuke. You had already started changing a little because you had to deal with your brother’s death, but seeing the horrible scene in the clan’s district had been the icing on top.

Your drastic change had been evident on the day you came back to the Academy after you were discharged at the hospital. What once was a girl full of life had become an empty shell.

The moment you sat down entered the room, people had started talking. Mostly it’s just about asking someone else if you were an Uchiha or if they know about the clan’s misfortune. They were meaningless chatters so you easily drowned them out.

But there was a comment that had reached your ears. “Why is it such a big deal? People die anyway, it just so happened her clan died on the same day.”

The comment kept ringing inside your head but then someone beside you spoke up, “Don’t you have anything else better to do than talk about someone else’s life?”

He was met with silence so he continued saying, “People die everyday, it’s a fact. Some die because of illnesses, some because of old age, some because of poverty, accidents, or murder. As shinobi, we can die in the line of duty. But that doesn’t make death any less painful to the one left behind.

“If your family is alive, then good, but maybe use that brain of yours because logic says not everyone gets to be as lucky as you.”

Naturally, you want to forget about the unsolicited comment of your classmate, but you want to remember that among the students inside the room, one boy had stood up for you. Quite frankly, you needed his saving that day. Otherwise, you would’ve beaten yourself up for mourning too long.

And when you realized who that boy was, his words weighed even more. Because Hyuga Neji was a boy notoriously known for thinking that everyone’s fate is predetermined from birth and that luck plays absolutely no part in it.

“Not everyone gets to be as lucky as you.”

And for a hot minute he had abandoned his belief as he stood up for you.

It sounds hypocritical if you think about it.

But maybe just as he had saved you, you had opened his eyes just a little bit and helped him see that his beliefs were skewed too. In a way, you had helped each other, at least you hoped.

It’s because of that day, that memory, that you find yourself gravitating towards Neji.

It isn’t attraction at all at first, more like genuine curiosity about him and his life. But you didn’t get to know him further until the Chunin exams where he had disclosed the way of their clan. It’s at that time where you understood why he acts the way he acts.

You can’t help but wonder about how two clans with almost similar circumstances— both with kekkei genkai, both living in Konoha, both considered to be one of the strongest clans in the shinobi world— could have completely different ways of living. One clan is almost completely annihilated, while the other has slaves of their own blood. And if you’re being completely honest, you aren’t exactly sure which is better.

You have gotten the urge to talk to him after hearing his story, although you really didn’t know what to say. But then the chance never came up because of the chaos orchestrated by Orochimaru.

After the Chunin exams and the attack of Orochimaru, you hadn’t heard of Neji for a while since you’ve been tasked to help with the repairs of the village. And when you did hear about him, it was terrible, terrible news.

Sasuke left the village to seek power from the very person who just wrecked havoc in Konoha. His leaving alone left you in despair. What Itachi was to Shisui is exactly what Sasuke means to you, and him doing such a thing without even letting you know makes you feel like a failure both as a friend and as a family.

The news didn’t end there, however. Apparently the squad that Shikamaru had led to retrieve Sasuke had been severely injured and were on the brink of death — one of them being Neji.

You remember feeling guilt and regret burning your skin. You remember the shame of not being able to save Sasuke from the darkness and not being able to help the retrieval squad in any way. You blame yourself for the horrible things that happened.

Since then, you have made it a point to visit the squad in the hospital every day, making sure you apologize and thank them for their service. But admittedly, it’s Neji that you always stay with longer.

It’s not that you aren’t comfortable with the others, they’re really nice and easy to get along with. But they always have other visitors with them, mostly their team members and relatives. Neji, on the other hand, didn’t get as many visits since his other teammate, Rock Lee, was also injured because of his fight with Gaara. So Tenten and Guy sensei would switch visits between the two every other day.

Besides that, his clan members rarely ever visited. And you didn’t want him to be alone in such trying moments, especially when you didn’t get to do anything to prevent this from happening.

As closed off as Neji is, because of your constant visits, you have found a way to worm yourself into the walls he put up. And by the time he’s discharged from the hospital, you somehow became close friends.

From that moment on, you find yourself coming to Neji on times that you’re in despair and in doubt. You trust him enough to tell him your stories, worries, and fears because he doesn’t judge you. And he does the same with you.

Neji listens when you want him to listen, and talks when you need him to talk. He’s quite level headed and very much rational, and because of that he gives the best advice.

With him, you find yourself healing and growing. With you, he finds himself learning to forgive.

Neji easily makes you see things in a different way; a different light; a different perspective, and helps you become a better shinobi and a better person in general.

For you, Neji has such a comforting aura. While he’s sometimes cold and stoic around others, with you, he softens up. With you, he’s gentle; careful even. And it’s because of this that you find yourself admiring him more and more.

But before anything could happen — before you could even confess — the Fourth Shinobi War was declared.

Just like that, time seemed to start running out. And you have lost all hopes of being together with Neji as a lover rather than a friend.

The war is awful. Quite frankly, it overwhelmed you too much, too easily. The bodies lying on the floor with dried out blood reminded you of the massacre of the Uchiha clan. But the only person who’s able to calm you down and help you move along is Neji.

The both of you fight side by side, always nearby Hinata in case she would need help. When the night comes and the enemies cease their attack, it’s your turn to talk Neji into relaxing a bit because he’s started straining his eyes from too much use. And because it’s you who asked and it’s you who’s there with him, he knows he and the rest of the Allied Forces are safe, so he rests.

But somehow chaos ensues and in the middle of it, you both get separated. You’re worried deeply, but you trust his skills and his strength, and you know you’ll be reuniting with him again.

And reunited with him you did. But when you have found him once again, he’s blocking out the Ten Tails’ attack with... his body.

With desperation, you transported to his side as quickly as you can. Summoning your last bits of chakra, you use Susanoo to protect him, Hinata, and Naruto. The last thing you remember is the look of relief on Neji’s face, but before it could morph into worry, you have already blacked out.

By the time you have woken up, you’re in Konoha’s hospital. The first thing you see is Neji resting his head on the side of your bed, peacefully sleeping, looking as angelic as ever.

Your body aches with every breath you take, even more so with little movement. But you didn’t let that deter you from weaving your fingers along the Hyuga’s hair. He stirs almost immediately and then he opens his pretty eyes. He sits up upon seeing you.

“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” You softly ask.

He doesn’t respond to your question. “You’re awake,” he sighs in relief. “You’re finally awake. Let me go call Lady Tsunade and Sakura.” He stands up.

But before he can even take a step, you grab his wrist. “Stay,” you mumble.

Neji looks at you, reading your face. But then he nods and sits.

“Is it over?” You ask.

“Yes, the war’s over.”

“What happened after?”

“It’s a long story… but tell me, how are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling fine. My body aches, but it’s not a big deal.”

“What do you mean it’s not a big deal?!” Neji looks upset that it takes you by surprise. “Do you remember what happened? Didn’t you know you almost died?! You almost used up all your chakra to use Susanoo! That’s so stupid and reckless!”

His aggressive tone effectively gets you angry. “I did it for you!” You snap. “Of course I remember what happened! Even if I want to forget, the memory is branded in my mind! You fucking wanted to use your body to shield Naruto from that attack, didn’t you? How is that not stupid and reckless? Huh?”

Neji’s chakra flares up as he clenches his jaw. Yet, he doesn’t speak.

You breathe out, trying to calm down. You rarely ever fought with Neji and he’s never really raised his voice to you. With your body still tired and aching from the war, you didn’t want this conversation to escalate further so you try to diffuse the situation before it blows even more out of proportion.

In a low voice, you speak, “I was so scared, Neji. I didn’t want to lose you. I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever loved.”

A tear falls down from your eye and Neji’s heart breaks at your forlorn state. “I don’t want to lose you too. I can’t…” you squeak. “I love you so much, I can’t lose you.”

Neji’s breath hitches at your declaration. He could hear his heart drumming against his chest.

You love him?

He doesn’t know if he heard you right or if his mind is just playing tricks on him. It happened before. He’s loved you for so long… and there have been plenty of days he dreamt of hearing you say you love him too. And right now he isn’t sure if this is the reality or just another one of his dreams.

As if you’ve read his mind — like you always seem to be able to do — you repeat your words. “I love you, Neji.”

It’s the confirmation that he needs. And hearing your words knocked the wind out of him. “I… I…” he starts saying.

But you’ve taken his stuttering and his pale, panic-stricken face as a sign of an incoming rejection, so you look down instantly and say, “It’s fine if you don’t like me the same way. I just hope we can still be friends after—”

“No, I… I love you too,” he breathlessly confesses before you even finish your rambling.

Your head whips up after the words left his lips. You stare at him, unbelieving.

And just as you did a while ago, he repeats his words with conviction, “I love you too.”

A smile makes its way to your face, and when he smiles back, you immediately know this is a memory you won’t ever forget.

[dazaisbiitch]

Mistress Of Evil

This is a My hero academia Oc story but it can also be read as an X Reader

All credits for the plot, storyline and characters go to Kohei Horikoshi, except the parts of the story that are my own and my own original character.

WARNINGS: May include adult themes, adult activity, hard language, intense or persistent violence, sexually-oriented nudity, drug abuse or other elements

Description:

"This is where my fun begins"

That's all she said that she took one step forward and off the tallest building in the area.

Only to land perfectly on her feet at the bottom, without okay in the world.

No one will be able to stop what's coming" 

Those were the final words of the night as she slipped away into the alleyways, as the sun began to rise signaling the start of a new day in the first day that she'd finally be her true self! 

Prologue

"You have to focus Rairaku, you have one of the most powerful quirks anyone has ever seen. You need to learn how to control and harvest the full and complete power of your quirk, then no villain will ever be able to get away from you. Once you're a hero, you will quickly rise in the ranks as a pro. Your quirk will make you a great hero someday, you will be respected by your colleagues and feared by every villain, you'll be able to open an agency to teach and guide others, just like I have with you… None of that will happen though if you don't focus on your training right now!"

"Yeah whatever, you really did a number on me, what would I have done without you to turn into a freak show. Do you think people are intimidated by other people's quirks? How insecure do you have to be in your own power to believe someone is better than you just because they have a better, stronger, flashier quirk than someone else? That's not how this shit works. No one gives a fuck if you have a strong quirk, they judge you before they know you… All this society cares about is if you have a quirk or not, if you do, well you have a chance to be a hero or a villain… Quirkless people are cast aside and left forgotten… You should take yourself as an example here, you had an amazing fire quirk, a villain came along, you lost a battle and lost your quirk, how quickly did the hero commission cast you aside as less than worthless? No one even remembers you as a hero, you only still have a hero license because you know a few tricks here and there that come in handy from time to time… The reality is that they don't care, no one does… You have this crazy idea that if you push me and push my quirk to its limits until my body collapses my quirk will be this superweapon you can offer to the commission on a silver platter, so much that at this point, I don't even know what my quirk can't do… nothing surprises me anymore!"

"That's the beauty of it, there's nothing it can't do. You have no limitations, except the ones you place on your own body essentially making it weak! You keep that strong quirk of yours trapped inside that weak and feeble body of yours, but fear, not I will fix that. You'll be training five more hours a day starting now, so back to training young lady!"

It's no use… My body can't take anymore, it needs a break, but this bitch is never going to give me one… This person should have never been a mother, thank god I'm adopted! I'm so fed up with this training. I don't remember a time I was not training my stupid quirk. I don't even want to be a hero and be just another puppet for the hero commission to control, I want to be free…

This whole shit show will soon end, if it's the last thing I do I'll make it end! I have exactly one month to come up with a plan, a month before I start attending U.A high school, the best hero school in the whole country. I got in through recommendations thanks to my dear old mother.

Making the executive decision to sneak out and try to find some way or idea to execute any sort of plan, but also have fun doing stuff that I probably shouldn't be doing, but who cares? I certainly don't.

Sneaking out has become very easy, living in a fancy neighbourhood isn't all that, live here long enough though and you learn to move in the shadows, allowing myself to become one with the darkness of the night and all that just so nosy neighbours don't see me and start commenting on my "behaviour"...

It's not the first time I've snuck out, certainly won't be the last, but this is the first time that I've gone into the city. Yokohama is truly a beautiful city, especially at night. I love to watch the nightlife, it's the time when villains shine the most, but at the same time, I cannot live among pigs that think they can drunkenly take advantage of an innocent woman just walking home.

Luckily I haven't encountered anything like that tonight, instead, I'm casually relaxing on a rooftop in the middle of the city, looking down at the world like God looking down at his subjects.

"What's someone so young doing up here?" an intimidating voice calls behind me. I already knew someone was approaching me minutes ago…

"Well, if I'm being honest I would say I'm thinking about the murder of a certain ex-pro hero… But better to be here and as far away from them as possible or who knows what I'd do to that bitch… I'm so tired of her living in glory as the world pities her for losing her quirk, while behind closed doors she's an abusive piece of shit!"

"Then jump. It will end all your tiredness, once and for all"

"As much as I'd love to, especially from up here, with this view, I can't, as soon as I start falling my quirk will just levitate back up here. Also even if I could, I'd just be proving her right, proving to her that I'm just as weak and pathetic as she thinks I am, so much that I took the cowards way out. No thank you. I'd suffer a while longer and have the satisfaction of watching her take her last breath. I will not die, not until I shove all her fake heroic ideologies down her stupid throat."

"Hmph… Perhaps then you shouldn't jump… I can however help you deal with her. This world must be cleansed of fake hero pretences and false ideologies. Back to the time where people knew the true meaning of what being a hero truly is!"

"So what? You'll kill her? If so then just go ahead and do it! No one will care about her death. To her, I am just another job the hero commission gave her, one she wasn't even qualified to do. If you do it, don't do it for me and my sad sob story. Do it because you truly believe in cleansing hypocritic heroes from this world. If that is indeed what your goal is I will give you all the information you need on her and all the other corrupt heroes in this society."

"What's your name kid?"

"Rairaku Ishii, you can call me Rai though. And I'd rather for you to not say your name out loud, you never know who could be listening, but I know exactly who you are, I'm telepathic, and it's a pleasure to meet you, I must say I'm a fan!"

"Good. Now about that information, you said you'd give me…"

"First ex-pro hero Pyro, she used to be very popular as Endeavour's sidekick, but now she's lost her quirk. She's basically useless, but people still praise her for some reason. Make it slow, she deserves a slow painful death, "heroes" should never abuse their power or others!"

"Are you sure? There's no turning back after this"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life. She has to be punished for what she has done. Starting today, I'll be the person I want to be."

"And who might that be?"

"Don't know yet! I could be your accomplice, after all, it seems we'll be seeing a lot more of each other."

"Fine, just know it might take a while, I have pressing matters I need taking care of first"

"The longer you take will just make me kill her myself"

End of the day it really should be me. I should be the one to kill her, I should be the one to do it. After everything, she's put me through? After everything, she's done to me? Killing her… Would that make me a villain? What better than that, a villain goes against every hero ideal she's ever tried to engrave into my brain…

Yes, that's it. I'll be the worst type of villain this world has ever seen.

This is where my fun begins!

[shoichee]

Hey! I read your Kise imagine recently and I adore it, it's rare to see someone write about manga!kise and I really loved it. Furthermore your writing is so so good to read 🥰 I wanted to ask you Kise x reader prompt 1! I would really like to read about him in such a situation ☺ Thank you Iain advance 😘

WAHHH TYSM ANON <33 IM SO HAPPY HEHE, and phew yall thought asshole kise was something but... have yall heard of TEIKO-era asshole kise??! NO?? dw, bc he’s debuting here // i wanted to really showcase his dual sides through more of dialogue (so we won’t really see what’s in Kise’s mind for this), so here it is hope you enjoy this anon! 

Kise x Reader

Prompt: “We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.”

Word Count: 2120

prompt list here

»»—————　☼　—————««

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it, Kise.”

“Huh?” he mocks with a condescending tone. “I didn’t peg you as someone who’d pull shit out of their ass like my last ‘ex-girlfriend.’ Just because I let you hang around me doesn’t mean you can parade around campus with an inflated ego.”

Your hands shake furiously at your sides, trying not to punch the basketball player square in the face.

“Me? With an ego? Look who’s damn talking!” you seethe. “I’m tired of the fact that we keep playing this stupid flirting game for months, only for it to go absolutely nowhere!”

“Have you ever stopped to use your brain and think about how flirting inherently is done in good casual fun?” Kise explains slowly, implying that you were the immature one in the situation. “Meanwhile, you have the audacity to get mad at me when you’re the one who’s using me for your own selfish gain!” Kise sends a heated glare but his eyes were tinged with betrayal.

“What the hell are you even talking about? Are you out of your mind?”

“Fuck this,” he scoffs, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m leaving, I’m not dealing with this shit anymore. If you want attention, I’m not gonna entertain you anymore.”

“No, you will not leave!” you yell, trying to stop Kise in his tracks. He merely ignores you as he holds up a hand to do a wave with his back to you. “You’re going to explain what the hell you were talking about!”

You sprinted and held onto his sleeve to tug him back to face you, only to be met by the most bone-chilling gaze from him. You would’ve absolutely cowered in his presence if it wasn’t for the fact that you were irrationally angry from the false accusations Kise threw at you prior. You can definitely tell that Kise was biting his inner cheek to keep himself reasonably calm.

“Ryōta,” you say.

“Don’t call me by my first name anymore,” he says flatly.

“Where did you get the idea that I was using you?”

“Hah! Why? Does it matter? Are you gonna go to them and try to threaten them after? It’s so clear from the way you’re talking right now that you only see me as a prize to show off.” You inhale a huge breath to stop yourself from saying something you’ll regret.

“I never saw you as some object, Ryōta,” you mildly scoff. “Let me make myself clear. All I wanted was a clear answer from you every time I asked you if you wanted something serious, but every single damn time, you changed the subject or never answered the question!”

“It’s all done in good fun. Does it really need to be serious?”

“But I want something serious with you!”

Kise merely turns away in silence, but you can see his body slightly tremble.

“... Ryōta?”

“Don’t lie to me like that…” he says, slightly sucking a breath. “... Look, if you really wanna use me to boost your popularity, just… just come clean, okay? I’ll go along with it if you tell me now. After all, we’ve been… good friends.”

“Lie? Why would I lie? I never thought once of using you or having any motives other than to get to know you personally as a friend, Ryōta,” you say, looking down on the grip you had on his sleeve still.

“What reason is there to know someone like this other than to activate a ticking time bomb while playing a game to pass that time? Isn’t that how it’s always been? Isn’t that what we are right now?”

Your senses tell you that something deeper beyond this surface argument has been troubling him. You slowly let go of his sleeve, before turning away with a sigh, leaving Kise absolutely confused.

“I think we both need to cool our heads,” you sigh. “We’ve both said too much, and… just… forget what I said, okay? And I’ll forget about what you told me.” Kise’s eyes widen at your statement.

“(y/n)-cchi…?”

“We can still do light-hearted banter like we always do the next time we see each other, okay Kise?” Your fists on your sides tremble before you hold up your head to give him a cheerful smile that’s eerily all too familiar to his own. You turn to walk away, but his heart squeezes painfully at the sight of your back to him like this. You’re so far from him. So far.

“Hold it, now…” he says, slightly sprinting to catch up to you. He grabs your hand, still balled tightly by your side. “You’re cruel, you know that? Demanding me not to leave but then leaving the conversation on your own accord? You’re a hypocrite.” He spins you around to see your eyes barely struggling to hold back fresh tears. Little did he know that your countenance was a mirror to his own.

“... Our heads aren’t in the right place, Kise. You should probably let go.”

“I probably should, huh…” he says, but still giving no sign that he was actually going through with it.

“Knowing you, you’d really hold my fist until someone has to actually separate you from me.”

“And knowing you, you’d probably punch me before anyone else had the chance to do so.”

“You know me so well, hm?” you muse, a tiny curl of your lip a different world than the one you gave moments before.

“... No,” he says with a slight frown. “I don’t think I know you well enough.”

“I don’t know you enough either, Kise.”

Silence falls between the two of you, frail as thin ice, before you eventually break it.

“... You’re right, this whole friendship we have right now… it’s a time bomb. It’s bound to fail and fall apart.”

“W-Wait,” Kise slightly says in shock. “That was… I didn’t mean it like—”

“No healthy relationship of any kind would last if we keep dancing around each other like this. I wanna be honest with you for once… I… don’t wanna do this banter anymore. I don’t wanna do these flirting games. I’m kinda tired of it. Especially when you always keep me at a distance.”

“Pfft, (y/n)-cchi,” he snorts loudly, flashing his sunny smile. “I’m practically so close to you holding your hand!”

“You know exactly what I mean,” you sigh, and you avert your gaze away. “You feel so far. I just… you feel so out of reach even when I’m in the same room as you… even as of now. I just want to know where we’ll end up.”

You firmly shake his grip off you, watching his hand falling back to his side as he does nothing but stare at you. You don’t know if he’s angry, offended, or shocked, but whatever his expression was, you couldn’t tell, not when you still stared at the concrete to the side rather than at him.

“Of course I wanna be friends with you,” you continue. “But can you blame me for believing that there’s something more between us when we do romantic gestures and flirting for months on end? If we’re just going to be friends, that’s fine, but I’d prefer if you’d also stop addressing me with -cchi, just to draw a clear boundary between us.” You finally look up to see Kise, but to your own shock, he looks quite bitter.

“You say that you’re confused about what we are, but then you go prattle to everyone else that you’re my significant other when we haven’t even talked a single thing about being a serious thing. You’re so fucking confusing.”

“I… did no such thing?” Your eyes, still puffy from the tear ducts, shine in genuine bewilderment.

“You… didn’t?”

“Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“I… um… oh…” All he could do was to stand there completely stupefied, mouth gaping as multiple realizations suddenly hit him like bricks. He rubs his neck as he shamefully looks away.

“So tell me,” you slowly say, giving him a more bone-chilling gaze than the one he gave you. “What exactly have you been hearing in the hallways?” You both stand there in silence again as Kise struggles to think of a way to explain it without sounding completely dumb.

“Okay, look… I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have listened to the rumors so easily, especially since I despise them too, but… they were about you, and I just couldn’t help myself…” he mumbles. “I don’t know, I… the thought of you getting close to me to use me really, really hurts.”

“And you thought just cutting me off on the spot was the most reasonable decision you can think of?”

“H-Hey…! Don’t put it like that! I thought I knew you well, but when I heard what people gossiped, my mind just went somewhere, and I thought maybe I misread you at some point. If you really did have ulterior motives, cutting you off wouldn’t be as easy as that other girl. Because I… w-wait! Where are you going?!”

“Home, Kise,” you flatly say. “It’s after school after all.”

“At least hear what I have to say!” He tries to catch up with you, but you only speed walk to outpace him. “Let me explain myself!”

“Hypocrite~” you say, using Kise’s mocking voice. “I don’t recall you letting me explain myself in the beginning.”

“(y/n)-cchi, I’m sorry! I’ll pay for all the outings we’ll do this week! And um… I’ll always talk to you if something’s bothering me—don’t ignore me!”

“Didn’t I tell you not to use -cchi?” you sigh, stopping abruptly, causing Kise to accidentally bump against you. “I’ll forgive you, but we’re still only friends. I guess I’ll apologize for assuming things on my end, too.” Kise drops his head on your shoulder from behind, and you only roll your eyes in amusement at the familiar contact. “Oh dear, Kise. I didn’t think you were the type to be so clingy after a fight.”

“Okay, I’ll ‘fess up,” he says, voice muffled by your uniform blazer. “Even though we’ve always gotten along so well, there’s always been a part of me who’s been on the lookout for any possible signs that you only saw me for my reputation. While I enjoyed having you around, I had always been ready to cut you off if I saw anything suspicious, but… lately the thought of letting you go ached so much… and then I heard what the other students were talking about… how you were acting the entire time… how you somehow screwed over other people before… couldn’t really think properly after that.”

“Boo hoo,” you huff. “Do you want a kiss to make you feel better?”

“... I actually do.”

“I think our heads haven’t completely cooled down. I’m going ahead.” You were about to walk away, even though you very much enjoyed his head on your shoulder, but his arms wrap around you to stop moving any further from his side.

“You said that you wrongly assumed what we were…” he whispers. “But you’re actually right. We’ve been more than friends for a while without me really acknowledging it,” he chuckles at your groan, “I guess you really do know me well… I’m really attached to you… but it’s not fair that you’re so collected even when I’m hugging you like this.”

“Kise, you’re an idiot, do you know that?” you snort. “How are you hugging me but not noticing how fast my heart is beating?”

“H-Hey! Can you call me by my first name again? I said it without really thinking, okay? It hurts me every time you do that.” He gives the most comical pout, but you only punch the top of his head on your shoulder before walking ahead.

“I’m still mad at you. I’m going home.”

“(y/n)-cchi, w-wait! Let me walk you home, then!”

“Don’t call me that either. I’m still mad at you.”

“But aren’t we dating now? I can call you that if we’re a thing.”

“But I’m still mad. You still said all those horrible things, and that stung. You think you’re the only one hurting right now?”

“I’m really, really sorry! I’ll make it up to you, and I won’t say anything like that again, and…”

“You’re not being really convincing.”

“I know I was being immature and the one with the inflated ego, and I said things that aren’t remotely true—”

You sigh before you turn back to a panicking Kise behind you.

“Then you better make it up to me by cuddling me and telling me some sweet nothings, because I can really use that right now, Ryōta.”

[blossom-hwa]

Light the Pyres |Burn| - SUNGYOON

This chapter hurt so much I'm really sorry

Pairing: Sungyoon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: angst, bits of fluff, apocalypse!au

Triggers: cursing, implied death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 7.9k

As the world burns its last goodbyes, you find a jewel amidst the ashes.

Previous: Rise >> Burn

Golden Child Masterlist

If times were normal, three weeks stuck in the same space with anyone but Daeyeol or your mother would probably drive you insane. Only seeing one other person’s face for days after days on end? You’d almost rather be alone.

But whether it be because you have shared memories and common grief or simply because you’re compatible human beings, Sungyoon isn’t difficult to live with, not in the slightest. You don’t fight over food or water or living in the same space. His voice doesn’t grate on your nerves, even after a week of him being the only person you can talk to. He isn’t almost pleasant company anymore – he’s just pleasant.

Maybe even a little more than that.

Over one, two, then three weeks, you come apart to each other, exposing small bits of yourselves from beneath threads frayed by the apocalypse. Sungyoon craves coffee more than anything in the world. He used to be the fastest runner on his high school track team. He tells you his favorite color is black, and just to keep the conversation going you decide that black isn’t a real color since it’s technically the absence of all color, which sparks a debate that maybe grows a little too loud every once in a while but by the end, you’re laughing at Sungyoon’s indignant expression that slowly cracks into a smile.

Laughing. Not smirking. At something not morbid or deadly.

It feels almost surreal, being able to smile at a topic so inane.

“What’s your credibility, huh?” Sungyoon asks when you’ve stopped laughing, having given into a grudging smile himself. It makes his face look sweeter, gentler. “What makes you an expert on colors or the absence of them?”

“I did mechanical engineering in university,” you say, leaning back against the wall. Memories threaten to flood your mind but you keep them at bay, closing your eyes against the onslaught. “Took a few chemistry classes as a requirement. We learned about colors at some point.” You open your eyes and shrug. “It was kind of interesting, but not enough for me to change my major.”

“Mechanical engineering,” Sungyoon echoes, staring up at the ceiling. You kind of have to give it to him – you might be bored sitting around in this empty house sometimes, but he’s confined to the bed if he isn’t using the bathroom and he hasn’t complained yet. “That’s cool. Is that how you got that car to work before?”

“Yeah.” You swallow, a slightly bitter taste in your mouth at the memories of your almost finished second degree. “Mom was a mechanic. I grew up around cars and machines. I was almost done with my master’s when…”

When the apocalypse began and I started out across the country to find my mom.

From Sungyoon’s silence, you gather that he understands what you haven’t said. He also seems to understand you don’t want to talk about it and thankfully changes the topic. “I did sports medicine,” he says. “And I minored in music.”

You sit up. “Music? What did you play?”

“I can play a little piano, but I mostly sing – sang,” he corrects himself, a faraway look coming into his eyes.

You don’t miss the switch from present to past tense. Mood dampened, you both sit in silence for a moment, mourning the loss of your lives before they’d barely begun.

“I used to play piano,” you finally say, trying to salvage the conversation. “I wonder if it’s still at home,” you mumble, more to yourself than anybody.

“If it’s any consolation, people aren’t really looking for valuables at a time like this.” Sungyoon gives you a lopsided smile. “Assuming… well, even if people have broken in, I don’t think the piano would be the first thing they were looking for.”

You know Sungyoon means to comfort you, but the implication that anything happened to your house, to your home makes your heart stutter. It’s not a strange thing, people breaking into houses. Oftentimes they’re already open, the occupants either dead or fled. 

But it’s your house, your home, and the thought that anything might’ve happened to it with your mom there flips your stomach.

Hypocrite. You’re sitting in one of those stolen homes right now, but you have a problem with people sitting in yours.

“Y/N?”

You look over to see Sungyoon staring back, concern in his expression. Swallowing, you try to smile. “Sorry, what?”

“Nothing,” he says. “You just went quiet for a bit.” He raises an eyebrow. “Thoughts?”

What do you say? Do you tell Sungyoon what you’re really thinking? Do you tell him you’re terrified of coming home to a house that’s been ransacked and laid bare? Do you tell him you’re scared of finding your mom in an empty home with nothing around her left, that you’re even more scared of finding an empty home with no mother inside?

You curve your lips, trusting Sungyoon won’t ask even if he sees that the smile doesn’t reach your eyes. “No,” you lie. “It’s nothing. So.” You look at him, your smile turning a little more genuine. “You sing?”

. . . . .

He does. He sings.

Beautifully.

His voice breaks sometimes, of course. Weeks of forced silence have taken tolls on both of your throats, and even speaking hurts if you talk too long. But the longer he sings, the longer his song fills your ears, the stronger his voice grows, rich and powerful even in his hushed melodies. It wraps around you like a blanket or a shawl, warming your skin in a way even the sun can’t.

When he first spoke to you so many weeks ago, told you not to hurt yourself by kicking the car down that one horrible day, you thought he could be a singer, thought that his voice was smooth, clear. Like Daeyeol’s. You hated it then, when it only reminded you of your best friend and what he was no longer around to do, what you had lost trying to save this boy with a nice voice who didn’t deserve it.

You still hear hints of Daeyeol’s clarity in Sungyoon’s quiet song. Even more obvious is the love of music in Sungyoon’s eyes that perfectly matches that of your dead friend. The few times Daeyeol hummed old songs to get you to sleep when the sun was still up, he always wore that look in his eyes. It fit him like a second skin, that soft love for music dancing in his expression, and you would try to keep that look in mind as he soothed you into sleep. It brought you both back to better times, when death didn’t lurk around every corner.

It hurts a little to see this look in Sungyoon’s face, for sure, but it also soothes another pain, the pain of knowing that you’ll never see Daeyeol ever again until it’s your turn to go. Because even though you’ll never gaze on his face again during your time on this earth, you’ll still see bits of him, hear parts of him in Sungyoon’s eyes and voice. Where that reminder might’ve felt like a stab in the chest before, it now smooths a blanket over your body, wrapping you in the knowledge that Daeyeol will always live with you, in your memories and in Sungyoon’s voice.

Sungyoon doesn’t ask why you’re crying when he finishes his song, even though he can definitely see you wiping away tears from your perch at the foot of his bed. You don’t make an effort to hide it, really – you’ve done worse things in front of him than cry, and besides, he looks a little teary himself. For a moment, you only sit in your respective positions, trying to rein in your tears until he breaks the silence again.

“That was my sister’s favorite song,” he whispers. “She played it so much that Bomin once threatened to delete it off of her playlist.”

You swallow at the mention of his sister and her boyfriend, guilt snaking its way up your chest. It’s a little easier to ignore right now, though, especially when you realize that this is the first time Sungyoon’s put a name to either of the two people you shot. “Bomin was her boyfriend?” you ask.

He nods. “I never said?”

As you shake your head, it only just occurs to you how little you know of Sungyoon’s family. You haven’t said that much – he knows about your mom and Daeyeol, but little of anyone else – but even that seems like a lot compared to what little he has (more like hasn’t) said about his family. You don’t even know his sister’s name.

You’re not even sure you want to. Putting a name to dead faces, faces that you shot bullets through…

Swallowing, you shake your head again, this time more trying to clear your head than say no. “No, you never mentioned it.”

“Oh.” He pauses. “Bomin was Sumin’s boyfriend. Sumin was my sister.”

Bomin. Sumin. The addition of two names to your repertoire (and the past tense for Bomin) nearly makes your head spin. Bomin with dyed, pale hair, Sumin with dark. Bomin with chiseled, handsome features marred by white skin and dark veins. Sumin with a round, soft face and eyes that probably would’ve looked lovely with a smile had they not been shrunken with disease.

You didn’t know either of them at all, which just makes the fact that you put a bullet through each of their heads even worse.

In fact, you pressured Sungyoon into letting you do it.

Both of you agreed not to apologize anymore. But the only words hanging on the tip of your tongue consist of I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Sungyoon, I’m sorry –

“It wasn’t your fault.”

You blink. “What?”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Sungyoon’s eyes bore into yours softly, understanding and reproachful all at once. “That’s what you were thinking, wasn’t it? Bomin and Sumin.”

Despite everything, a wry little smile curls the corner of your mouth. “Was it that obvious?”

“Only to someone who saw what happened.” Sungyoon shifts on the bed, sitting up against the wall. “You didn’t kill them, Y/N. The zombies did.”

“See, I know that.” You stare at your hands, the smile wiped from your lips. “Logically. But –”

“Your brain won’t let you,” Sungyoon finishes. “Yeah, I know. It’s the same with me and… you know.” He leans forward, fixing your gaze with his. “So I’ll keep saying it until your brain finally figures it out. Okay?”

The tears try to come again, but this time, you hold them back. “Same for you,” you manage, hoping the wobble in your voice isn’t as prominent as it feels to you. “It wasn’t your fault. It never was. And I’ll keep saying that until you know it too.”

Sungyoon turns away. You don’t try to follow his gaze, to probe at his expression. You don’t need to.

It’s enough, this understanding that hangs quiet in the air.

. . . . .

On week three, when Sungyoon’s finally started to limp around the house, Lady Luck puts you in her good graces and you find a source of transportation far better than your legs. You don’t thank her too much, though, since you literally found the two bikes after being chased twice around the same building by a small, though vicious group of zombies.

Even then, a little bit of excitement sparks in your still-racing heart when you pedal up to the front of the house and dump the first bike indoors. Sungyoon pokes his head out through the bedroom at your call.

You grin. “Remember how to ride a bike?”

It takes a second dangerous trip to bring the other one back but you manage, since Sungyoon is still slow on his feet. When Sungyoon feels ready to try it out, you watch closely as he slings himself onto the cracked seat, ready to catch him if he falls.

He does, twice. But the third time, he actually starts wobbling up and down the front of the house, pedaling slowly but steadily.

A cry almost escapes your throat when he turns around on the street, pedaling back with sparkling eyes and lips curving in a rare smile of success. But though you stifle the sound, you can’t help but run up and hug him when he dismounts, one hand holding the bike steady as you wrap the other around his chest.

Sungyoon’s breath catches. The little gasp in his throat reminds you of what you’re doing, that he might be uncomfortable, and you go to apologize and pull away, insides curdling with embarrassment.

But then he wraps both of his arms around you, bringing you in closer with a gentle, uncertain grip, hands locked loosely at your waist. And it’s your turn to catch your breath at the subtle warmth of Sungyoon’s thin body, a warmth more comforting than even the rays of afternoon sun beginning to set in the sky.

Human touch. Human comfort. Human warmth. You bury yourself in Sungyoon and he buries himself in you, earlier excitement forgotten in favor of the comforting warmth of the other’s touch.

You don’t say anything about it, even after you let go. You only part naturally, smiling at each other as your arms fall to your sides before finally reentering the house. Sungyoon goes back to lying on the little couch, resting his leg, while you carefully stand the bike by the door and go to find something to eat. Conversation is quiet. Not awkward, not stilted, just quiet. You still don’t mention the hug.

But later that night, after you’ve barricaded the door and freshened up as best you can, Sungyoon is still sitting up in the bedroom. You pause in the doorway. “Sungyoon?”

“It isn’t comfortable on the floor, is it?” he asks, voice strangely stilted. He doesn’t wait for an answer before rushing on. “Come up here. It’ll be easier on your back.”

It takes several moments to process his words before you start protesting, saying the floor isn’t that bad and that you read something about how sleeping on hard surfaces is actually better for your back, but your voice dies away when Sungyoon holds out his arms in the dark, shifting to make room for you on the threadbare mattress.

Something about this feels like it should be wrong. Taking comfort in someone who isn’t Daeyeol or your mom or even one of the friends you left behind, probably never to see any of them ever again. You’ve only known Sungyoon for a matter of weeks. Daeyeol you knew for over twenty years. Your mom, even longer.

And now you’re taking comfort in someone when none of them are around to experience it themselves. Guilt simmers in your chest.

But walking into Sungyoon’s arms sweeps it away.

His touch is just as soft and unsure as it was earlier under the afternoon sun, but if anything, it feels warmer in the dark. And as you gain a little courage, letting him curl closer into you as your breaths begin to even from exhaustion, the touch becomes a little more certain, a little firmer and stronger as he loosens against your body.

One brave hand reaches up, tangles briefly through Sungyoon’s hair. “Goodnight,” you whisper.

He squeezes you once, gently. “Goodnight.”

. . . . .

The fourth week has passed by the time Sungyoon walks without a limp. You really would have wanted to go the first day he could put weight on his leg, but if you had, you wouldn’t have found the bikes. And considering the fact that you only have two bullets left, you’re thankful for a method of quick escape.

“We need to get out of the city,” you say, swinging one leg over your bike. “There are too many zombies here. Just follow me, I think I’ve mapped out how to get to the highway. It’ll probably be smoother from there.”

Sungyoon nods. “Let’s go, then.”

Your heart pounds as you pedal down the streets, quickly, quietly. The rusty bikes creak a little under your weight and with every weird noise you tense, pedaling faster, but street after street, you and Sungyoon ride without too much trouble.

Until you turn a corner and the faint sound of dead groans echoes from farther down the street.

Both of you stop. Sungyoon looks over. “Is there another way?”

“I mean, probably.” You swallow. “But they’re in the direction of the highway and regardless, we’ll have to go past. I don’t… I’m not sure…”

The groans grow louder.

“Let’s see if we can loop around,” you decide, trying to picture the general layout of buildings. “Just… be ready to ride fast.”

Sungyoon almost smirks. “That wasn’t a given?”

You hit him, even as you stifle a smile. But that smile disappears quickly as you ride closer and closer to the sounds of groans.

The first zombie lurches out from behind a collapsed home. It stumbles over the sidewalk, clawing forward, but you and Sungyoon move too fast and leave it quickly behind.

But then a second pops out in the distance. And a third.

Behind you, Sungyoon mutters a curse. You don’t blame him. Much worse words are running through your mind. “Through the cars,” you hiss, weaving between several vehicles stranded on the road. “Harder for them to get us.”

The sound of limbs slapping against metal and glass makes you want to hurl. Groans and shrieks echo off the sides of the cars, overpowering the creaking of your bike and filling your ears with their sickening sound. You pedal fast, fast, faster, swerving between a last car into open road –

Sungyoon races past, surpassing you as a zombie just misses grabbing the wheel of his bike. You pedal harder to catch up, staring straight ahead towards the entrance of the highway that’s finally in sight.

Something brushes your arm. You shriek, almost tipping off balance as dead white fingers flash in your peripherals, but a backwards glance from Sungyoon forces you to stay upright and you pedal forward with a last rush of speed, rolling onto a smooth, zombie-free road.

You ride for what feels like hours until you have to call it quits. Stumbling behind an abandoned truck, you collapse in the shade, legs shaking with exertion and adrenaline. Sungyoon follows quickly, dropping his bike onto the asphalt to sit next to you.

For a moment, you only sit in silence, panting under the hot sun.

Then you heave a shaky breath and start to laugh.

It starts out as a gasp, really. That first breath doesn’t fully go out the way you want it to and you wheeze a gasp, then another, and another and another until your wheezes turn into breathless laughter that treads the line of hysteria but then Sungyoon is starting to laugh too and all you can do is revel in the fact that you can laugh, snort, giggle because you’re alive. You made it out of that infested city alive, alive despite that horde at the end, and God, now you’re trembling because even though you’ve had close encounters with the undead before, you can still feel cold, peeling skin just dragging against your shirt –

You start crying.

Adrenaline seeps out of your body like blood from a wound. Your stomach hurts from laughing. Your eyes ache with tears. You keep feeling that feather light, deathly cold touch brushing your arm, almost like a wisp of wind curling against your skin but so much colder, like ice freezing your veins even under the burning sun.

Cold. Cold. Cold. And no one, not Daeyeol, not your mother, no one to help you out of this icy sun –

Sungyoon’s shaking arms wrap around you, and you remember what it feels like to be warm again.

You grip him tight, tight, tighter, holding onto this last piece of human life. Everyone else you know is dead or probably dead and only Sungyoon is a constant, still here and alive despite the fact that you could’ve split up all those weeks ago.

Until the day you die, you’ll be grateful you chose not to.

He holds you and you hold him until both of you finally stop trembling in the hot shade of the truck, but even then, you latch on just a little bit longer, memorizing the weight of his thin body pressed against yours. Hunger has hollowed his skin and yours, eaten away the muscle that used to cushion your bones, but Sungyoon’s arms still hold a fragile strength that slowly bleeds into you, giving you the courage to wipe away the tears.

That night, after hours of riding on quiet roads, no silent, tentative question hangs in the air like it always has when Sungyoon slumps against your sitting figure, head falling into your lap as you fight to keep your eyes open for first watch. Without hesitation, you tangle your fingers through his curly hair, soothing him into sleep.

Sungyoon is your warmth, just as you are his. Reminders to each other that even in this blackened world of death and ashes, both of you are still alive.

. . . . .

The closer you get to home, the harder sleep comes. You don’t know why. It should be the opposite, right? You’re closer to your goal. Closer to your mom.

But that also means you’re closer to uncertainty. Closer to the Schrodinger’s cat-type limbo where you don’t know whether or not your mom is still alive. Only with Schrodinger’s cat, there’s an exactly fifty percent chance that the animal is dead. Or so you think. It’s been some time since you had time to think about quantum mechanics.

Doesn’t matter. Odds are now, the scale’s been tipped a little further in that direction. 

You don’t know what you’ll do if she’s dead.

Scratch that. You kind of know what you’ll do. Scream. Cry, probably. Either that or just go silent.

You don’t know what you’ll do if she’s just disappeared.

Because then there’s Schrodinger’s cat again, constantly hovering between life and death. Knowing at least gives you facts – you’ll be certain as to whether she’s dead or alive.

Not knowing will rip you apart.

Sungyoon decides it’s enough when you wake up the third time during his second watch, chest heaving from nightmares where you return home alone and there’s no one. Not him, not your mom, not even a single zombie. There’s no blood on the floor or anything to indicate struggle. The house is perfect, just as you left it when you went back to university the last time.

But it’s empty. Cold.

And only silence answers your calls.

“Okay, that’s it.” Sungyoon’s tone is softer than his sharp words. He gently grips your shoulders, pulling you up in the darkness. “What’s wrong? What are you dreaming of?”

You shiver even in his hold, remembering the chill of the empty house, the choking silence that greeted your calls. How do you begin to describe that, the fear of not knowing whether or not your mother is alive?

Then it hits you.

Sungyoon will understand. He has to. He walked back to a zombie infested city on an injured leg to find his sister and her boyfriend, Sumin and Bomin, all the while not knowing if they were alive or dead.

“What if she’s not there?”

His grip slackens. “What?”

You swallow. “What if my mom isn’t there?”

For a long moment, both of you stay silent. In the dark, you can’t even make out the expression on Sungyoon’s face.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies. “What will you do?”

Fear ices your throat. You can’t speak. What will you do? If it turns out you came all this way, across an entire country, for nothing?

“What did you do?” you manage once it feels like your vocal cords have thawed. “When you went back and…?” A wince of guilt and shame keeps you from saying more.

Sungyoon falls quiet. You recognize this silence not as brooding, not as angry, but thinking. Contemplative. It eases the tightness in your chest.

“It felt like everything was lost to me,” he finally says. “They were all I had left. When it finally hit me that they were gone…” He shakes his head. “But that’s not what you meant, right? You’re asking about before. When I didn’t know.”

You nod, curling closer into him. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” Sungyoon says. “Honestly, I don’t know how I dealt with it. All I know is that it was eating at me so much that I had to go back and find out myself. So I was an idiot.”

There’s a little smile in his voice, a twitch of the lips that you can hear in his last few words. Your mouth almost curves, too. “But what if we go back and I still don’t know?” you ask. “What if she’s just… gone?”

“It’ll be your choice whether or not you want to leave it at that or keep looking,” Sungyoon answers after a pause. “I can’t make the decision for you. But…”

You look up. “But?”

“You know what kept me going after all of that?” He doesn’t wait for a reply. “The fact that you offered to let me come with you, despite what had happened. It was the fact that someone, more or less a stranger, gave me a place with them.”

“Really? I honestly thought you were going to laugh in my face as soon as I said it,” you admit. “I’d just… done that, and a few hours later, I was asking you to walk across an entire country with me.” You wince. “Not exactly bonding material.”

“I won’t lie, I kind of considered it.” Sungyoon seems to shrug in the darkness. “But even then, I knew you weren’t evil, regardless of what happened. You still lost a friend. You were still trying to stay alive. And when you talked about your mom…” He sighs. “What I’m saying is you were there for me, Y/N.” His grip on your hand tightens softly. “And whatever happens when we get to your home, I’ll still be there for you.”

The lump in your throat refuses to let you speak, so you only sink further into Sungyoon’s body, trying to hold back the tears threatening to escape your eyes. He seems to understand. His fingers rise and card through your hair, stroking smooth against your scalp.

If this is how Daeyeol felt every time you did this when he was sick, you now understand why he asked for head pats whenever he wasn’t doing well. It soothes you, even if one or two tears do make their way down your face at the thought of your best friend.

Fuck. You close your eyes. Daeyeol would have found a good friend in Sungyoon, you’re sure. Your mom would probably love him too. More than anything, you wish they were here.

But you still have someone. You have Sungyoon. You have someone you trust, someone you rely on, someone you can hold close at times like this when you start to spiral and can’t force yourself out of your mind.

You’d like to say that Sungyoon feels the same.

“Is that okay?” Sungyoon asks softly, breaking into your thoughts. His fingers keep stroking your hair gently, softly.

Your eyes are starting to close again, weighed down by sleep. Nightmares might be waiting, but Sungyoon’s words and warmth make you think they might stay at bay. You nod against his chest. “Yes,” you murmur. “More than okay.”

“Good.” His hands don’t stop. “Now sleep. There are only a few hours before dawn.”

You don’t need to be told twice, only curl further into him and shut your eyes. As sleep finally begins to roll over you in waves, you sigh. “Thank you,” you whisper.

His breath stirs your hair. “For what?”

A small smile curves your lips.

“For being here.”

. . . . .

The buildings start looking familiar two weeks and five zombie attacks later. There are more undead here, probably because you’re closer to the site of the explosion. Even though you’re still several states away, the virus spread more quickly here than on the other side of the country.

At some point after the third attack, you try to apologize while patching up several scrapes on Sungyoon’s arms. There isn’t even time to stay – you need to keep riding, find a place to take shelter for the night before zombies find you. He doesn’t deserve this.

“You don’t either,” he points out. “Neither of us ever deserved this.”

“But I have to deal with it to get home. You don’t.”

“And I signed up for the ride.” Sungyoon pats a bandage more firmly in place before taking your outstretched hand and standing up. He squeezes your fingers. “Come on, let’s get moving.”

Your heart pounds painfully as you ride down the last stretch of highway, faded signs bearing the name of your hometown. Everything almost looks the same, if you ignore the dried blood spattered along the sidewalks and panes of shattered glass on the streets.

And the zombies milling about at the base of the exit.

Sungyoon stops when you do, frowning when he sees the faint outlines of white skin and blackened veins. “Great.”

You snort, hysteria building in your throat. “Great” is the perfect way to put it. So close, yet so far – separated from your home by a throng of the undead.

There are only a few right now. From here, up on the highway, you can only count four or five. Zombies don’t move fast and if it’s just those few, you could probably outstrip them.

But they’re definitely not the only ones. And you have no way of knowing just how many are left in the city.

Think, think, think! You hit your head lightly. You grew up here, explored the entire city, walked all the roads by the time you went off to college the first time. Even though things have probably changed, they can’t be too drastically different. Any small nooks, any back roads or alleys you can find where zombies aren’t likely to be…

“What do you think will be more zombie infested?” you ask. “Residential roads or the actual city?”

“… City,” Sungyoon says. “More densely packed people, right?”

You bite your lip. He’s right. The highway leads to a road that cuts straight through the middle of the city and it would probably be faster to follow it straight down and just make a few appropriate turns before reaching your home, but it’ll probably be safer to take the longer local path.

Local it is. God, you hope your sense of direction is as good as it used to be.

“We’re going straight down now before more zombies come,” you say, swinging a leg over your bike. “As fast as you can. We turn left at that first traffic light and then be ready to follow me.”

The downward slope of the highway gives you a burst of speed you dearly need once you reach the road. You speed past abandoned cars and several milling zombies that turn to give chase, but you and Sungyoon are already turning left, racing down a street of empty shops and cafes. You used to hang out there with Daeyeol and a few of your friends before –

Not the time. You pedal faster. The groans of chasing zombies has grown fainter, which is good, but there are definitely more.

As if on cue, several sets of gangly, white limbs pop out from behind a building, lurching towards Sungyoon’s bike. He swerves around a car and you grit your teeth to avoid crying out. “Keep going!” you shout, pedaling faster. Faster.

Street signs whiz past. You almost miss the first turn, jerking sharply to the right at the last minute. Sungyoon curses and you look back but he’s following, still following, weaving around zombies and cars as he keeps racing forward.

Right. Left. Straight. Left. More zombies join the chase, relentless even as you and Sungyoon leave them behind, legs straining to keep the speed. 

Left, left, straight. Pedaling uphill is a pain. Your thighs burn and your chest aches but then you’re rolling downhill and you catch your breath before straining once more.

Straight. Right. Right. Left. You pass by your old high school, grass trampled and overgrown in the front.

Left, right. You race down a street lined with houses you used to envy – if you lived closer to school, you wouldn’t have had to get up early for the bus every morning.

Straight. You pedal past a small plaza. Clubs used to congregate in the restaurants for end of year celebrations. It’s where you went with your friends on the last day of high school and where you had dinner with your mom the next day after graduation.

Mom. Mom. You go right, then left, racing past aching memories, all the while conscious of zombies groaning in the background and Sungyoon panting by your side. Mom, I’m almost there. Almost home.

Please be there.

The last street comes into sight. You swing around a last building and a last car, finding yourself on a familiar street that you haven’t seen in years. You pedal slower, slower, until you stop in front of your house.

Memories almost paralyze you. This was where you met Daeyeol when he first moved in. This was where you almost got hit by a speeding car when you were out playing as a child. This was where you walked from every day to the bus stop for over five years to get to school –

Sungyoon grabs your wrist, glancing behind. Already, the sound of groans is growing louder. “Is this it?” he asks, nodding at the front door.

“Yeah,” you breathe. You squeeze your eyes shut, shake yourself out of your daze. “Yeah. Come on.”

With each step forward, you feel like you’re walking back in time. You grow younger and younger, smaller and smaller, until you’re finally pulling out the house key you’ve kept in your bag for so long, waiting for this moment –

You stop, key held uselessly between your fingers as you take in the scuff marks around the doorknob and the lock.

The door has already been forced open at least once.

Sungyoon notices the marks, notices your silence. He pulls open the door anyway and shoves you inside, slamming it shut behind you.

He plucks the key from your hand. Locks the door with a faint, familiar click. 

You look around in a daze, taking in overturned furniture, books and magazines strewn over the floor, cabinets left open from what you can see in the kitchen. Clouds of dust spring up where you step.

You sneeze. The sound brings you back to the present.

Your home has been ransacked. Someone broke in and took what they thought was worth taking, leaving behind furniture and books and the piano standing against the wall. Someone broke in and either spared your mother or killed her –

Or she wasn’t there in the first place.

You can feel Sungyoon’s eyes following your movements as you step forward, slow and cautious. Dust itches your throat and burns your eyes but you keep moving, surveying the damage. “Mom?”

There’s no sign of human life. Not a footprint in the dust, not a handprint on the wall. But there’s also no blood. No sign of struggle.

So where is she?

“Mom?”

Panic seizes your chest and you walk forward faster, looking into the kitchen as if she’ll be hiding somewhere there. When she doesn’t appear, you turn into the bathroom, the bedrooms, but only a mess of dust and objects meets your eyes. “Mom?”

No one replies.

She’s not here.

You try to reason it away. Maybe she’s out looking for food. Maybe she’s hiding. But you don’t have a basement or second floor so there’s nowhere she could be, and why would she be hiding, anyway? As for food…

Dust comes away on your fingertips as you drag them along the floor. Somewhere along the way, you sank down against the wall, alone in the hallway. Bits of dust rise with every breath you take.

If she was just looking for food, the house would still appear lived in. There wouldn’t be so much dust and dirt everywhere.

But she might have had to leave when people broke into the house. Right?

Or not. You swallow, tears starting to flow down your face. There was no sign of struggle, no blood or cracks in the wall. Just overturned furniture, probably from someone’s careless movements while looking for necessities.

Which means she isn’t here.

Not here. Not here. Not here not here not here not here – you came all this way and survived so many attacks and even lost Daeyeol and she’s not here –

And –

Daeyeol –

A cracked, broken sound emerges from your throat and your pounding head falls into your hands. You came this whole way and watched Daeyeol shoot himself just to find the dusty, empty house from your nightmares –

“Y/N.”

You turn your head to see Sungyoon in the hallway, holding a piece of paper in one hand. His face is pale.

He holds out the paper before you can work through the lump in your throat to ask what’s wrong. “I think you should read this.”

. . . . .

It’s long past dark and you still can’t sleep. Sungyoon drifted off about an hour ago, but even though you lie under the same sheet next to him on the floor, not even his warmth can lull you into dreamland this time.

Well. Probably more like nightmare land. The piece of paper crinkles in your hand, as if to remind you of what you’ve lost.

You try to close your eyes against the words that seem to flash in your vision. No use. They’ve tattooed themselves to the backs of your eyelids, trembling letters written in your mother’s familiar scrawl…

Y/N, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I’m most likely dead.

Why did she feel the need to apologize for being dead? If anything, it’s your fault for not getting here fast enough.

Of course, there is the chance that I’m just out looking for food and will come back soon, but if I’m not home by night, it isn’t likely.

Night has gone and passed. It’s probably closer to morning.

Every time I leave the house, I put out this note. That way, in case you manage to find your way back, you’ll have this much left from me.

Tears start to build up again behind your still puffy eyes.

I heard you on that phone call. I knew you would come back or at least die trying. Because that’s who you are, Y/N, my strong, darling child. Brave to the last.

Brave. Ha. If only she knew how much you relied on others to keep you sane. First Daeyeol, then Sungyoon…

I miss you. Every day I miss you. But I have hope that you will come home one day, return to this house, even if I’m not there to welcome you.

She wasn’t.

If you are reading this note and I am not there, don’t blame yourself. It isn’t your fault. Nothing is certain, especially not our lives, not mine, not yours. If it was my time, then it was my time. Don’t hurt yourself, thinking you should have gotten here before.

But you could have. Maybe you should have. Sungyoon certainly thought so, judging from his silence as you read the note. He read it too, before you, and you know he was thinking you should have left him and his fractured leg back at that house in the city infested with zombies, left him and come back four weeks earlier to hopefully find your mother, alive and whole –

You don’t think you could’ve chosen differently, though. Sungyoon was there, right in front of you, injured and broken and you couldn’t just leave him behind. Even if your mother had still been here then (which you don’t think she was – the thick layer of dust all over the house speaks of over a month of disuse), would you even have made it back? Or, alone, would you have fallen to the trap of your own mind?

And even if you had returned in time, how would she have thought of you, knowing you left an injured person behind? You wouldn’t have been able to keep it from her. It would’ve spilled out, sometime.

Your heart clenches. Even though there logically wasn’t much you could do, it still hurts to think that you might’ve had a last chance to see her before she went.

Always remember that I love you, Y/N. You have always been the pride of my life. You are strong and brave, and if anyone is to survive this disaster, I pray it is you, both as my child and as a ray of hope for the future. We know something like this can’t happen again. I know you. I know you will help prevent it.

The tears start to spill. Again.

I love you. I miss you. I hope I will see you soon, but not before it is truly your time.

- Your loving mother

Tears fall harder, faster. You turn, pulling yourself out of the blanket so you won’t wake Sungyoon, and sit there, shaking with silent sobs.

I love you too. And I miss you even more.

You have little left of your mother but this note. All her clothes were taken from her room, the sheets of her bed pulled away, even her toolbox laid empty. Trinkets from shelves and tables lay smashed on the floor, fallen from careless searching. A few framed pictures survived. Little more. You don’t even have her body – you can’t even bury her, your mom, your hero, you can’t even give her the same respects you paid Daeyeol –

Your watery eyes light on the shadow of the piano, hidden in the darkness. The lid covering the keys is still closed, protecting them from dust, just the way you left it when you went back to university.

As if in a trance, you stand, walking towards the piano and settling on the dusty bench. You haven’t grown in the years since you’ve been at school and it’s still pulled the same distance back, leaving just enough space for you to stretch your hands out on the keys once you’ve lifted the lid. Dust billows and you cough, batting it away, but you put your hands back on the keyboard.

And begin to play.

It’s your mother’s favorite piece, a sonata’s slow second movement that she said never failed to calm her after a long day. But you don’t play it well – your fingers slip. You don’t remember all the notes. Rhythms are wrong, the melodies stilted, and you stop playing, resting your elbows on the edge of the instrument as you grind the heels of your palms into your eyes, tears beginning to pound once more. You couldn’t bury her so you thought you could give her a little music, but holy fuck, you can’t even properly give this tribute because you can’t play the fucking piece –

Sungyoon sits on the edge of the bench. You jump – you never realized he was awake, and you open your mouth to apologize for waking him up – but he just looks at you with a softness you can feel even in the dark. “Keep playing.”

Fingers trembling, you put them back on the keyboard. It doesn’t get better – missed notes and wrong rhythms still plague the piece – but Sungyoon nudges you every time you falter, pushing you to finish. And when you do, tears falling to the dust onto your lap, he pulls you over and wraps an arm around you, letting your head fall to his shoulder as you cry.

He holds you until the sun rises and you finally fall asleep.

. . . . .

As much as you want to leave as soon as you wake, you stay at home another day. Both of you need a break before you keep going west, now that there’s no time crunch, and there don’t seem to be many zombies walking up and down the street. As long as you and Sungyoon keep the window blinds shut, you consider yourself about as safe as you can get.

The security helps a little. Takes away a bit of anxiety. But wherever you go, no matter how messy the rooms are, you always know that you’re in the same house you grew up in. Just with the most important people of your childhood missing.

But Sungyoon is important, and Sungyoon is here. It helps, a little. Though when you find him staring at the few family photos left on a table, photos with you and your mother and one even with Daeyeol’s family, you have to leave the room because it just reminds you that Sungyoon lost everyone and has little beyond his sister’s earrings, as far as you know, to remember them by. And he had to take them from her body, when in any other “normal” situation of death he would’ve left them in for her burial…

Sungyoon cried over the earrings several weeks ago. Just looking at the pictures, comparing the memories they hold to two little gold hoops that can’t even fit around Sungyoon’s fifth finger, almost makes you want to smash the frames to the ground.

You almost don’t take them with you. It’s only when Sungyoon holds out the thin frames that you remember them, two-dimensional faces of people you lost, smiling with a joy that you don’t think you’ll feel ever again.

“You’ll want them,” Sungyoon says quietly. “It hurts now, but you will. Trust me.”

The weight behind his words convinces you.

In the end, you put them in your bag, stuffing your mother’s note into one of the frames. Sungyoon helps you cushion them with your spare clothes. When you’ve finally packed them away, you walk with him to the front of the house before hesitating in the doorway.

Sungyoon glances at you. “Ready?”

You don’t turn around, but you let your eyes wander over what of the living room you can see from here. You’ve left this house many times, both times when you went to university and every time you left after a break, but you always came back. Even when everything happened, you came back. You still came back.

This time, you don’t think you’ll ever return.

“Y/N?”

You hear Sungyoon, but you still say nothing, riveting your gaze to the door. Once you leave this house, you won’t come back. You can’t even hope for it.

But you think it’ll be okay, because home isn’t just a place. It’s with people, too. And though you will never forget your original home with your mom and Daeyeol, you think you’ve found the beginnings of another home with Sungyoon.

You take Sungyoon’s hand, tangle your fingers through his. He looks at you with some concern but you don’t look back, just blink your eyes and take a breath.

You’re leaving your original home for a less certain one, a home bound solely in human attachment without the solid root of a house. It’s a little tenuous, a little shaky, but with your hands joined like this, you think there’s a possibility things might be okay.

It’s a chance you’re willing to take.

“Yeah.” You finally look up, squeezing his fingers once. You twist the doorknob. “Let’s go.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for a certain two characters to stay alive)

[realllllfangirllllll]

Beyond Lovers || Chp. 31

{More Than Friends Sequel}

Chairman!Jaehyun AU x CEO!Reader AU

Summary: You find yourself falling deeper and deeper in love with the former CEO after overcoming your fear of love. Although there were rough patches, both of you are now stronger than ever. However, you realize that maintaining a relationship and a company at the same time can be very difficult, especially if someone is out to destroy the both of you.

(Context: This scene takes place in the time frame of the last three chapters of MTF)

Masterlist

{Previous / Next }

4 months ago...

“Come meet me in Paris. I’ll send you the address.”

Jaehyun’s mind spun like lab rats on a hamster wheel as he contemplated the idea of meeting face to face with Xiaojun. He had set his mind on getting y/n back and he couldn’t act scared now. He needed her in his life and this was his only chance.

~~~

The bright sun was hanging low in the clear sky as Jaehyun let out a yawn. Although jet-lagged and stressed, the thought of being on the same grounds as y/n made him feel a bit better. After all, it seemed like he hasn’t seen her for years. He chuckled to himself upon the realization of how much y/n’s presence affected him.

He stepped into the luxurious hotel lobby and made his way to the glass elevators before he quickly pressed the button to floor six. When the room door opened, he found himself sitting on the lonely chair placed across from the lush couch with his heart beating nervously. Never had he been more nervous for a meeting, in fact, he usually wasn’t the type of person to get nervous at all. He guessed that y/n and Xiaojun were definitely of blood relation as they were the only two people to ever make him feel even slightly nervous.

His hands were clasped politely in front of his lap as he tried his best to sit as straight as possible. On the other hand, Xiaojun sat comfortably yet arrogantly on the couch with his legs crossed. His stern, sharp gaze examined Jaehyun from his neatly gelled hair, his casual yet sleek navy dress shirt, to his expensive leather shoes. Jaehyun didn’t move an inch and allowed Xiaojun to take in whatever he wanted to see. He dressed casually but neat with the intent of giving off a good, first in-person impression. He didn’t want Xiaojun to think of him as an egotistic rich boy but a hardworking and polite man that is sincere to y/n.

Xiaojun suddenly let out a chilling laugh that did nothing to clear the tension in the room. “You don’t have to act so stiff, treat me comfortably.” 

Jaehyun nervously chuckled as Xiaojun broke out an eerie smile and offered, “You must be exhausted from that flight. Want something to drink?”

Jaehyun looked at him and saw that his eyes held a stonecold stare that shouted ‘refuse if you dare.’ He quickly responded with a yes and Xiaojun’s eerie smile returned. As if he prepared for this scenario, his hands grabbed the bottle of liquor on the marble coffee table and filled the two empty glasses by its side. He set the bottle aside and asked as he quirked his eyebrow, “You do drink whiskey, do you?”

Jaehyun responded with a quick, “yes sir,” and Xiaojun chuckled, “No need to be so formal with me. You are about the same age as me after all.”

Jaehyun almost choked on his drink at his words and stuttered, “Y-yes if that’s what you want.” Hesitantly, he continued, “By the way...How do you know my age?”

Xiaojun chugged his drink and rather loudly before he bluntly told him that he had searched him up online, read articles about him, and even had some intel from someone on the inside. Jaehyun’s eyes widened at his last statement. He wasn’t new to this sort of investigation as he had done so himself around people he found suspicious, especially with Jaemin. But he was surprised, yet amused, that Xiaojun was that kind of person as well. 

He cleared his glass of whiskey and set it down on the table. “You seem to be a very reliable person.”

Xiaojun gave him a questioning stare as he waited for him to elaborate on his words. Jaehyun chuckled, suddenly feeling more comfortable around the man in front of him and slightly loosened his stiff body. “It’s only right to keep an eye out on suspicious people. I would.”

At his elaboration, Xiaojun’s expression seemed to change into one with slightly more approval. His cold stare shifted to a warmer gaze as he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His eyes first looked down at his interlocked fingers and then seriously up at Jaehyun. “What is your endgame with my baby sister?”

Jaehyun sat up straighter again and responded with slight confusion in his tone, “Endgame? I don’t have one. My love for your sister isn’t a game.”

Xiaojun smirked and asked, “Then what is it?”

Jaehyun never broke eye contact with the man in front of him and said sincerely, “To me, loving y/n is like living in a warm home. I only want to make her feel happy and comfortable like how she makes me feel. I want her to feel what being loved means.”

He hoped that wasn’t too blunt and stopped himself before he could say anything more, but Xiaojun chuckled. This time, he didn’t have an eerie smile but a genuine one. He poured the both of them more whiskey and said in a gentler yet firm tone, “You’re the first, you know.”

“The first what?” Jaehyun said a little softer, scared that that statement might hold a negative connotation.

Xiaojun peered down at his glass of whiskey, slightly moving the cup in a circular motion before setting it down without taking a sip. “Guess I don’t need this whiskey anymore.”

He looked up and saw Jaehyun’s puzzled look. “You are much more innocent than I thought,” he laughed. He sat straighter, breaking from his previous position and told Jaehyun nonchalantly, “You are actually the first to tell me something worth my time. You see...most guys that previously held y/n’s interest will walk into my door and say some bullshit. I’ve heard countless fuckers say they date my sister because she will make a great couple with them, she will light up their day, or some equivalent shit.” His eyes hardened and stared straight into Jaehyun’s. “I don’t want to hear that. Ever.” Jaehyun unconsciously gulped and Xiaojun chuckled, “But you on the other hand. You are different. While others think about themselves, you think about y/n.”

Jaehyun felt relieved but not a second later, Xiaojun gave him the same cold stare again. “But y/n means the world to me. She’s my only family and the only person I will sell my soul to protect. You got that?” Jaehyun quickly nodded in response and Xiaojun’s tone softened again. “I don’t know how far you are in this relationship, but you must know that y/n didn’t have parents growing up as they abandoned us quite harshly.” He glanced at Jaehyun’s expression and figured he knew what he was referring to. “So you do know. Well then your relationship must have been going on for quite a while…”

“Not really,” Jaehyun replied a bit hesitant. 

Xiaojun quirked his eyebrow, “How long then?”

“Technically...only a few months,” Jaehyun rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of whether he should give him all the details of their complicated relationship, “But we’ve kind of been circling around the first month…”

“Circling around?” Jaehyun gulped, afraid this would give him some negative points on his approval but Xiaojun stared intently at him and suddenly burst out laughing. He knew that his younger sister was never the one to wait for initiation. She wasn’t careful with things she didn’t care for. All her previous relationships started fairly quickly. But when y/n really liked something, she would wait, go through a ton of inner debation, and finally come up with a decision. Xiaojun knew that because she does the same with photography. She never rushes the process and would take her time finding the right angle, the right natural lighting, and the right model. She would often tell Xiaojun, “Precious moments are to be dealt with carefully because they are especially fragile.” 

Now that Jaehyun confessed the upbringing of their relationship, albeit vague, he realized just how much y/n valued this man that sat nervously in front of him. He muttered to himself both out of amusement and astonishment, “Wow y/n...So he’s the one huh?”

He stopped laughing and stared seriously at Jaehyun again, “Listen up lover boy. The reason I told you to come here was to either show you that you are not worthy of my precious sister or to beat you to a pulp if you didn’t listen like some arrogant douches I’ve encountered in her past relationships.” Unknowingly, Jaehyun chuckled at his last statement and Xiaojun’s ears perked, “Did you just laugh?”

Jaehyun’s eyes widened upon the realization of what he just did and immediately corrected himself, “No no, I didn’t mean it in that way.” He scratched the back of his neck again and continued, “I actually just,” he paused and let out a light chuckle, “I just relate to that as well.”

Xiaojun was caught off guard as he blinked in disbelief at the man’s reaction, “You what?”

A sense of respect coated Jaehyun’s tone as he clarified, “Some people call it reckless, some people call it crazy. But in the line of business I work in, those hypocritical people only fear those with the power of the fist and intimidation.” He let out a bitter chuckle and told Xiaojun, “With y/n around, especially, I just feel the need to make sure she doesn’t get hurt by ignorant people.”

Xiaojun smirked, “You’re not half as bad as I thought Jaehyun.” He smiled and continued, “Anyways, y/n may be my baby sister but ever since we were little all she has done was make sure I was happy. She took care of me more than I did with her. She supported and helped me with my Youtube career and tagged along without any complaints. And because of that, she never really had a stable place to call her home. I’m glad she was able to open up to you. She usually never tells someone about her parents until at least a year into the relationship. It shows she really is comfortable around you. And judging from the way you react to my words and actions, it seems I don’t need to play the role of a protector for her anymore. You seem to suit the role.”

Before Jaehyun could respond Xiaojun immediately cut him off, “But one more thing. As a Youtuber, I know the public forum can be harsh and the spotlight will never be easy. For that, I know the situation at the Starship Charity Ball was not entirely your fault,” His cold stare came back as he stared seriously at Jaehyun, “But don’t you ever dare forget this. When you walk out this door and go to y/n, you will do everything in your power to help and protect her. It might not be entirely your fault, but it was because of you that y/n is now in the spotlight.”

Jaehyun replied in agreement almost immediately and Xiaojun continued, “Take the consequences and make the best of it.” He narrowed his eyes and made sure Jaehyun understood his commands. “But don’t you ever let y/n get hurt by it.” He continued and emphasized his last point in a much deeper and darker tone, “You hurt my only family and I will show you no mercy. However hurt y/n becomes, I will give that back to you threefold, understood?”

“Of course! I will always be by her to protect her. No matter who or what gets in the way,” Jaehyun replied quickly and genuinely. 

Xiaojun shut his eyes for a moment and nodded, content with his response and overall behavior. 

“Effiel Tower,” he opened his eyes again and looked at Jaehyun with a soft and somewhat hopeful gaze, “She should be somewhere around the Effiel Tower right now.”

Jaehyun immediately popped up from his seat, ready to meet his love again. Before he twisted the doorknob of the hotel room, he turned around and told Xiaojun with the utmost respect, “I will treat her like my own family, I promise.”

Xiaojun chuckled and leaned against the soft pillows on the couch, “You better lover boy, my fists are ready to fight any time of the day.”

———

• Dropping a post early since I’ll be off to celebrate my bday!! •

[walkingdaryls]

the chosen one

pairing: loki x reader

request: hi i was wondering if you could write a fluffy loki imagine where maybe he’s like an ass to everyone but just kinda claims the reader as like his favorite person or something and honestly you don’t even have to stick to that i’d just love a fluffy loki if you could thank you!

warnings: some swearing, very fluffy

(gotta love fluffy loki. the best loki. also, this is a bit long so i’m sorry about that hehe)

The main thing you loved about the Avengers, your lovely teammates, was the fact that each one had something that set them a part from the rest. Bruce’s buzzing brain, Tony’s ego, Nat’s confidence, and so on. You adored every single one of them.

And what they adored about you was that you were always the “empathetic” Avenger. The one who believed in second changes. In never judging a book by its cover. And the one who believed people could genuinely change for the better. Now, everyone else was also fully aware of the fact that you could easily kick anyone’s ass with your powers or wit. Or both at the same time. But your welcoming, trusting personality definitely shined. Most of your teammates loved you for it, even if they teased you endlessly for being the nice one.

But what really threw your team off was the way you allowed Loki onto the team so easily with no doubts. Years after the incident in New York with the God of Mischief, Thor began asking for Loki’s acceptance into the Avengers. He claimed that even under his sarcasm and rolling eyes, he had changed for the better. The whole team was very hesitant, but after tons of psychological evaluations and close screenings, Loki was slowly turned into an Avenger. He’d aided on plenty of missions, proving himself to be good a bit more every time. But the team still wanted to suffocate him to death every once in a while.

Loki didn’t exactly like any of the Avengers, and he felt like none of them liked him either. But a job was a job.

The only exception was you. You’d been the only one throughout his time as an Avenger that never provoked him, or looked at him in a dirty way. Well, it wasn’t like you two even had conversations. You two simply minded your own business around each other. You never trashed him, so he left you alone. Simple as that. You were never one for hating on someone who was trying to change.

It wasn’t until one night after dinner, when Tony provoked an argument with Loki, that you finally had had enough.

“Someone tell me why we let him be an Avenger again. Please?” Tony said after Loki had dramatically left the room.

Clint sighed, “I’ve been saying, he’s too risky after what he did in New York.”

The others chimed in, and even Thor expressed reluctance about his brother. You couldn’t believe your ears. So you suddenly slammed your hands on the table, causing your friends’ head to snap towards you.

“Are you guys fucking kidding me? I wasn’t aware that we were gonna start contemplating kicking people off the team every time we talk back or start a stupid argument.”

Tony crossed his arms, “That’s not what we’re doing. And it is so much more than just the arguments. Loki-“

“No!” You exclaimed, “It isn’t fair to him! It’s not fair at all. How many of us have shitty pasts we’ve moved on from? How many of us have made stupid mistakes that we will probably regret for the rest of our lives? Most likely all of us. But do we give each other horrible looks every time we see each other? No! We forgive each other and ourselves. That’s the thing about us, Tony: we stick together no matter what.”

No one said anything, so you continued, “And I’m fully aware that Loki’s mistakes are probably far worse than anything we’ve ever done, but the message still stands. I mean, how many missions has he helped us on? The amount of close security and psych evaluations he’s been through just to be part of the team? It’s been years, for fucks sake. Yes, he can be a dick to some of you sometimes, but that’s just him. It’s no reason to continue to hate his guts. Do you guys remember the mission France like 5 months ago that almost went wrong? Loki saved my life. I was this close to being killed. If he hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be here today with you guys. So I think we owe him some thanks. Especially me.”

You were heated by that point. Everyone continued to stay completely silent, so you stood up.

“I-I’m gonna head to bed now. Just wanted to let y’all know you’re being a bit hypocritical,” And you walked away, catching just a ghost of a smile on Nat’s face.

“Jesus, I think she’s heard one too many of Steve’s speeches,” Rhodey muttered, earning a shove from Steve himself.

But what you didn’t know while you walked away, was that Loki had been standing in the other room, hearing every word you’d just said.

—

Over a week passed since your monologue at the dinner table. No one really mentioned anything about it afterwards, which you were really grateful. All you got was a random pat on the back from Steve and him saying, “We’re all proud of you, kiddo.”

You made your way into the kitchen, which was currently being used by most of your team. 9am in the tower’s kitchen on days off were always pretty hectic. Wearing your usual workout outfit, you made your way towards the mug cabinet.

You were the only one on the team that avoided coffee at all costs. Tea was your go-to. The only other person like you in that aspect was Loki. He was the kind of person you’d caught making tea at 2 in the morning when he couldn’t sleep.

As you reached for the mugs, you realized your favorite one - a minnie mouse one you’d bought at Disney World years ago - was nowhere to be seen. You were pretty sure you’d just put it away last night after helping Tony with the dishes.

“Here.”

You turned around to see Loki, still in his forest green silk robe, holding out your well-loved mug in his hand. You could smell your usual green tea steaming out of the mug.

You stood in shock more a moment before snapping out of your thoughts and taking the mug from him carefully.

“Oh, thank you,” You smiled genuinely. You could feel Nat’s gaze on you a few feet away at the waffle-maker. In fact, a few of the team members’ eyes flickered towards your interaction. Loki’s face remained neutral as he went back to making his own cup of tea.

Thor, noticing this, yawned, “Brother, could you please pour me a cup of-“

“No,” Loki walked out of the room with his tea in one hand, and book in the other. Thor’s mouth slightly fell, glancing back from the cup of tea in your hands to Loki. Steve snorted from the stool next to Thor.

What the fuck just happened? You made your way towards the gym a few floors down with confusion on your face. But mostly warmth in your heart.

The next day, Loki had your green tea waiting for you in your favorite mug once again. And you didn’t hesitate to give him your signature smile and a sweet “thank you”, even if you were a bit taken aback.

And he continued to do this for the next few days. Every morning, without fail. Green tea. Minnie Mouse mug.

At this point, Nat definitely became more aware. She pulled you aside after a while with slightly mischief in her eyes.

“Are you two friends?” She asked genuinely.

“Nat, it’s just tea.”

“Yeah, except Loki’s never even bothered to do something like that with the rest of us. Never.”

You shrugged, “He isn’t Satan. He’s capable of nice things.”

Nat chucked, “Not like this. And it’s just with you. He practically begged you have you as a partner during our last mission.”

It was true, although you wouldn’t exactly say ‘beg’. But he had been pretty adamant on having you as his partner for the mission. He’d asked you kindly first before letting Tony know. In the moment, you hadn’t thought much of it. But looking back at it, you now realized how genuine his actions had been. And you two made a hell of a team that day.

“Maybe he heard your speech that other night,” She smirked, walking away before winking at you. You stood there dumbfounded with a slight redness growing in your cheeks.

That afternoon, with your work done for the day, you made your way towards the main living room with your current book in your hands.

Upon entering the room, you should see Loki’s figure on the couch. He was slightly bent over which only meant he was probably reading as well. You hesitated, but made your way over anyways.

“Is it okay if I read here, too?” You asked quietly. Loki glanced up at you, nodding softly.

“Of course.” Was all he said. You gave him a ghost of a smile before plopping down the the other couch a few feet away. His eyes promptly followed you as you turned to the page marked by your bookmark. You began reading calming, posing no threat to him, so he continued his reading too. Loki felt quite at peace with the sun setting, your soft breathing, and his favorite book in his lap. And the best part: the rest of the Avengers were nowhere to be seen.

“What are you reading?” Your voice sounded softly. Loki placed a finger to mark where he last read before glancing up at you. You feared he’d be pissed off for the interruption, so you continued.

“I mean, I’ve seen you carry that book around for a while now. And it’s all worn out...which usually means it’s a good book,” You chuckled.

Loki watched you carefully before smirking, “Indeed. It’s called Pride and Prejudice. I’ve been told it’s a classic amongst mortals. Have you read it?”

Your face suddenly lit up. Your book was suddenly set aside as you leaned forward excitedly. Loki, although he would never admit it out loud, loved the sparkle forming in your glorious eyes.

“Yes!” You said, “Oh, it’s one of my all time favorites. The movie, too.”

Loki quirked an eyebrow, “There’s a movie? Well, I’ll have to watch that once I’m done with reading it.”

“So you like the book?”

“...Yes. I’m about three-quarters done with it. I have to say, it is rather enjoyable.”

You leaned back against the couch, gazing dreamily at the ceiling, “I’m a sucker for those kinds of romance stories. And I like to think I’m quite like Elizabeth Bennet.”

Loki squinted, “I think so, too.” You lifted your head slightly, making eye contact with the raven-haired God. The soft gaze on his face seemed to mean well, so you allowed for your cheeks to grow a light shade of red.

“Well,” You smiled, looking down at your book, “Let’s get back to reading, yeah?”

Loki nodded, but made sure to keep his eyes on your for a few seconds longer before opening to his page once more.

—

Another couple week passed, and Tony decided to call a ‘very urgent team meeting that has nothing to do with actual team stuff’.

You entered the kitchen where the rest of your teammates were sitting or standing around, chattering amongst themselves. Tony was waiting until everyone arrived before sharing what he needed to say. You slid on a stool next to Nat.

Bucky and Bruce showed up a minute or so later, which meant practically everyone was there. You looked around for the only missing person: Loki. But before you could say anything, the familiar God walked in with Tony followed a few feet behind.

“Alright,” Tony clapper his hands, “Glad we’re all here.” He walked into the kitchen where he served himself some liquor before turning to the rest of you. You felt Loki come up behind you, before situating himself right next to you.

You looked up at him, smiling softly, “Hi.”

“Hello,” He spoke extremely lowly, yet his eyes brightened just a bit more. You felt even more tiny compared to him now that you were sitting and him standing.

“So...what’s this meeting for?” Bruce asked.

“Great question,” Tony said, “I have decided that after tireless back-to-back missions these past few days...we all deserve a treat. That’s why I booked a reservation to the fanciest restaurant within a twenty minute drive. It’s at 8, so I want all of us ready to leave by 7:40.”

“God, Tony you know I hate when you plan stuff like this last minute,” Bruce stressed.

Tony shrugged, “It’s not like any of you losers had plans. Now, go get ready. You’ve all got less than two hours.”

You sighed, “The fanciest place in the city? I hope you’re paying.” A few chuckles sounded from your teammates.

“I wasn’t joking,” You looked at Tony.

The genius rolled his eyes, “Obviously I’m paying. Now, go! All of you. Shoo. Jesus, you try to do a nice thing and people still ask questions-“

Everyone groaned, getting up from their spots and leaving to their rooms to get prepared for the big night. You sent Loki a sympathic glance before going to your floor. You knew he hated going out.

So that’s how you ended up wearing your nicest white, tight-fitting dress that ended a few inches above your knee. It had a long, thick golden embellishment traveling from the bottom to your top left shoulder. It was very classy. And paired with golden heels, you truly felt otherworldly.

You, Nat, and Wanda were all up in each other’s bedrooms, trying to decide each other’s hair and makeup. Wanda was especially skilled with eyeshadow looks for some reason. And Nat more with hair. Your two blessings, you called them.

You three joined the rest of the guys in front of tower, all piling in the long, iconic Stark limo. You definitely hadn’t missed the look Loki gave you as you walked past him to get into the vehicle. He didn’t say anything, so neither did you. You just sent him your signature smile.

Champagne was passed around once in the limo with flashing lights. You were squished between Thor and Loki, which wasn’t exactly a complaint. Thor was cracking jokes to you and calling you “my lady” the entire ride. It was a blast, and you hadn’t even arrived yet. Loki on the other hand, stayed quiet as a mouse. He only said “thank you” when you passed him a glass, and that was it.

Upon arriving, your breath was almost taken away at how fancy the restaurant truly was. Tony never disappointed. Your team’s reserved table had each seat labeled with each of your names on paper.

Nobody noticed, but Loki created an illusion to switch you and Bucky’s seats so you’d be sitting next to him.

Loki allowed you to slide into your chair first before sitting down next to you. He immediately reached for the menu. Seeing that there weren’t enough left for you, you silently read over his shoulder. Without saying anything, he slightly lowered the menu to give you a better look.

Hours passed, and the entire table had fallen a bit tipsy. You were stuffed with more than enough raviolis and champagne. You even accidentally hiccuped while trying to tell a story to the rest, but everyone teased you so much for it, you couldn’t even finish what you were going to say. But how could you be mad? You were having the funniest, and most lovely night of your life with your second family. The rest of the restaurant probably hated all of your guts for your loudness and endless laughter, but none of you cared.

“I’ll be back,” Loki had whispered from beside you. You turned your head, watching him walk away towards the restaurant’s balcony doors. You looked back at your team, seeing they were all occupied with themselves, and followed Loki.

Feeling the fresh breeze outside somehow made you and your bloating feel a bit better. You spotted the familiar dark-haired man gazing out at the buzzing city at the edge of the balcony.

You sucked in a breath before speaking, “May I join you?”

He looked back, “Of course.”

It was always of course, you thought.

Your heels clattered lightly on the tile floor as you made your way next to him. You didn’t know if it was the champagne in your system, but you found yourself standing extremely close, touching shoulders with Loki. But he didn’t make any efforts to move away.

“You seemed awfully quiet during dinner. Is everything okay?” You asked.

Loki looked at his hands, “Just not the ‘going out’ type, remember?” You nodded, looking back at the skyline.

“You know, Loki,” you said, “I never properly thanked you for saving my life back in France months ago.”

You’d had a couple slip ups in missions before, but the entire team remembered that traumatic mission in France extremely well. You truly had been on the verge of dying. So close. But Loki had gotten in there and saved your ass. And Loki remembered, too. But it hurt him too much to think back on it. He’d been so close to never seeing your bright smile, or your infectious giggles again.

“Y/N, I-“

The alcohol in your system didn’t stop you from rambling, “I know I’m late, like, months late, but I just wanted you to know. I am so thankful. I literally owe you my life-“

“You don’t owe me anything, Y/N, heavens,” Loki watched you with a concerned gaze.

You blushed, “Well, I needed to get it off my chest. So, thank you Loki.”

“Well, I couldn’t afford losing the only person on this team I can somewhat stand.”

Your eyes flickered to his, seeing him wear an amused smirk on his face.

“I’m-I’m your favorite Avenger?” You teased. The God rolled his eyes.

Your smile was making your cheeks burn, “FYI...you’re my favorite, too. Well, maybe next to Nat.”

Loki let out a small, breathy laugh. You joined in, making him stare at you once more. His stare was so intense, you didn’t know what to do except awkwardly stare back.

Loki wanted more. He yearned to hear your voice again. So that’s why he said the next thing without thinking.

“You look beautiful tonight. Well, every day, of course. I forgot to tell you when you walked of your room a couple of hours ago, so I’m letting you know now.”

You were so thankful it was dark out, for you just knew that the look on your face was embarassing. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“I think you’re beautiful, too,” You blurted. Loki gave you the softest gaze you’ve ever seen, so you couldn’t help but carefully place your hand on of top his.

Loki tenderly lifted your hand before pressing his lips to the tip of your fingers. All you could do was watch, breathless. He set your hand down before grabbing both sides of your face, and pressing another soft kiss, but to your forehead this time.

“That’s why we’re each other’s favorites,” He smiles cheekily at you.

You giggled, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Indeed.”

—

[ladyartemesia]

▨ FIC • PREVIEW ▨

The Mark of Yun-Ki

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Hybrid AU  • Royalty AU • Fantasy AU • Daechwita AU

Summary: For a thousand years the tiger god Yun-Ki has marked the heirs of the Min Empire and thus only a marked heir can inherit the throne. When the beautiful daughter of the Min Emperor’s loyal warlord rescues a mysterious tiger hybrid from the imperial prison, she unleashes a secret that the throne would kill to protect. The young emperor claims to be the chosen heir... but who really bears the Mark of Yun-Ki?

Word Count: (preview) 2280 (final word count approx. 7K)

Rating and Warnings: Preview is rated M(ature) but final fic will be E(xplicit) for heat sex among other thing. Warnings for the preview include sexual innuendo and mature themes.

Author’s Note: One of the reasons I wrote this was in response to a prompt given to me by @mindays​ like MONTHS ago (I have included the original prompt at the bottom of the preview) • I really hope you like it! Sorry I took so long.

“Why is he blindfolded?”

The guard beside you shifted uncomfortably. 

“The Emperor ordered that his eyes be covered at all times.”

Your gaze traveled covertly over your surroundings, assessing the dimly lit chamber with practiced disdain. 

“Leave us.” 

“My lady, I cannot-”

“Do you know who I am, soldier?”

Your voice slashed through the air like an icy whip. 

“Y-yes, my la-”

“Then you know it is unwise to displease my family.” One jeweled hand came to rest dramatically on your chest. “Your daughter is not yet 15...such a pity to orphan one so young.”

The soldier bowed almost too quickly. 

“I will be outside, my lady-” he bowed again and again as he backed toward the door, “I meant no disrespect-”

Then you were alone… save for the notorious prisoner bound and blindfolded in the cell before you. 

He was clearly aware of your presence, but made no move or sound of acknowledgement, not even when your footsteps brought you to the very edge of his enclosure. 

“Prisoner AG-D2... name unknown... crime unknown...” your hand travelled up to your hair to withdraw a long silver pin, “no date of birth, no date of arrest...”

The prisoner jerked suddenly when the sound of your pin tripping the cell’s iron lock reached his unnaturally sensitive ears. 

His nostrils flared as an almost familiar scent - buried beneath a decade of fury and fear - curled through him. 

“Who are you?” 

The words were more of a growl than a question, but the only answer he received was the sound of his cell door creaking open. 

“Why are you here?” he tried again. 

“I am here to tell you a story...”

The prisoner barked out an empty laugh at your strange reply.

“I love a good story,” he whispered bitterly. The corner of your mouth twitched a bit at his spirit. 

Wrists bound together, eyes covered… but still every inch the proud warrior. His clothes were worn, but well cared for and the body beneath them was sleek and strong. This was not a man accustomed to being bound. 

“You were not raised like the rest of our people... the tales of our customs and our gods were - deliberately - never taught to you...but it is past time that you knew of them.”

He grinned, granting you a wicked flash of razor sharp fangs.

“Are all of the Emperor’s captives tortured with fairytales?”

“Charming,” you snorted, dragging a small stool from the corner of his cell. The prisoner’s ears flicked curiously at the sound.

“Aren’t you afraid of me, storyteller? What if I’ve been imprisoned for devouring beautiful women like yourself?”

You shook your head in amusement as you settled onto the stool.

“Have you devoured many beautiful women then?”

“Oh absolutely-” his grin took on a decidedly sinful slant, “but I doubt that’s why I’m here.”

A strange fluttering stirred in your chest at his words, though you did not fully understand the cause. You could not afford to waste time dwelling on such things, however.

“So... why are you here?” 

The prisoner was silent for several moments as he weighed the risk of being honest with you. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered finally, “I was told the Emperor himself ordered my arrest… but I was never told why.”

Your fingernails dug painfully into the palm of your hand, but you offered no other outward reaction to his words.

“What do you know of the current Min Emperor?”

“Not much. I’ve heard he is young... Stories say he has the temper of a demon, but his people endure it because he is the favorite of an ancient god.”

Your jaw clenched.

“That is correct. Our citizens are privileged to serve and obey the Emperor because the great tiger god, Yun-Ki has chosen the House of Min as his sacred bloodline. It is believed that the Mins are descended from Yun-Ki himself...”

“How ironic,” the prisoner scoffed, “considering that the Mins despise hybrids. They claim we are the unnatural children of the spirit realm and the earth. Surely they would be ashamed to be the product of such… blasphemy.”

Feminine laughter filled the air. It had been so long since the bound man had heard anything so beautiful. The ache it stirred in him was nearly as foreign as the sound itself. 

“Yes it does seem rather hypocritical... especially in light of the events which bring me here.”

Your scent was stronger now. It tugged at the edges of his mind in broken pictures and flashes of sunshine. He knew it...

But he could not recognize it. 

Nor could he explain the heat it began to stir in him. 

“Yun-Ki’s chosen heir bears his sacred mark .... Every child of the emperor’s seed is checked for it the moment they are born. And no concubine or wife of the emperor is ever so exalted as the one who produces a marked heir... except of course, the mother of our current emperor.”

The prisoner leaned forward, fascinated in spite of the strange circumstances.

“The dowager empress is widely revered. I may not know your fairytales, but a hybrid’s ears are better than most. My guards speak of her often.”.

You nodded

“The dowager is indeed very highly regarded… but she is not the emperor’s true mother.”

“Lady…” the prisoner shook his head irritably. “What nonsense is this? And how could it possibly affect me?”

You chuckled softly and the small hairs on the back of his arms rose up in response. 

“Patience, prisoner, the truth I offer you is worth more than both our lives.”

“The fine jewelry I hear clinking around your neck is worth more than my life, lady,” he hissed. “Speak your peace and spare me these cryptic declarations.”

It took every ounce of self-control you possess not to flick him right in his arrogant nose. 

“As you wish,” you replied with heavily affected sweetness. “The story begins with our current emperor’s father. The old emperor was a man of warfare and his spies discovered that the Prince of neighboring PyonKang planned invade our territory, he marched his armies in and occupied the small kingdom without mercy…” (you paused here significantly) “He even took the Prince’s sister as his war prize...”

The prisoner snorted. 

“Did he know what she was?” He smiled coldly. “The royals of PyongKang do not share your nation’s distaste for hybrids or the pleasures of mating with one-”

There was a sharp spike in your scent when he spoke the words; a darker - richer essence than the one he detected earlier, but this time he had no trouble identifying it. 

Arousal. 

Blood churned chaotically beneath his skin, rushing to answer your body’s unspoken request. His mind clouded suddenly and for a moment...he could almost taste you. 

This is dangerous. 

The fabric of your gown rustled as you shifted uncomfortably in your seat - driven to relieve some of the unexpected pressure in your core. 

“He did not know. The lady bore no hybrid indicators. So the emperor assumed - quite incorrectly - that she was not a hybrid.” 

“I’ve heard of such things…” he sighed, sifting through his memory till he found what he was looking for. “A physician I met in Eastern Wei discovered that some hybrids manifest internally. They retain the outer shell of a human, but their inner parts reveal the truth.” His head tilted as he recalled the old doctor’s exact words. “The face of man could hide the heart of a snake.”

You drew your lip between your teeth and nibbled it nervously. 

“You are correct. Except, in the case of the emperor’s war prize concubine, the face of a beautiful woman hid the heart of a tiger.”

The man before you scrambled to his feet in a move so sudden and unexpected, you nearly cried out. 

“You mean to tell me that the current Min Emperor is a tiger hybrid? Surely I would have heard of it. The world would have heard of it.”

You drew a deep breath - almost as if to brace yourself for the words you planned to speak.

The prisoner’s eyes were covered, but he could still make out shapes and shadows through the rough cloth. Your shadow seemed unnaturally still. When you spoke again, your tone was softer and the sound of it resonated deep within him like the bells of the old temple near his childhood home. 

“The princess of PyongKang became pregnant, and gave birth to twin boys. The younger was strong and pale, gifted with the strange golden hair so many of the Min bloodline seem to possess. But his elder brother...”

Your hands opened and closed reflexively in your lap as you worked to calm your pounding pulse. 

“... The elder brother’s hybrid heritage was quite evident.”

You moved then, stepping slowly and carefully until you stood before the prisoner face to face. Your scent swelled erotically with every step until it wrapped around him like a velvet vice. The urge to lean into it - into you - was nearly unbearable. 

“One of the twins bore the tiger god’s mark... but not the one who sits on the throne now.”

Your hand stretched slowly toward the edge of the prisoner’s blindfold. 

“The emperor executed his hybrid concubine immediately, yet even he was not bold enough to kill Yun-Ki’s chosen heir...”

Your fingers hovered a hairsbreadth from his skin. Once you touched him, everything would change. The truth you chased for eleven years would be within your grasp. 

“He sent the child to a poor family of fox hybrids who worked and lived on the estate of his most loyal warlord. The boy was never to know what he was… who he was...”

You could almost feel the moment he grasped the implication of your words. The subtle bond that always hummed strangely between you remained strong despite the years of separation. 

“The warlord had a daughter who loved to ride her horse near the lake.” Your voice trembled ever so slightly as you continued. “One day the horse was startled by a snake and it threw her into the water...”

A single tear wet his blindfold as the alluring tendrils of your scent merged chaotically with the treasured echoes in his mind. 

“Tiger hybrids hate the water,” you whispered, gently drawing the cloth up over his head, “but you dove in to save me anyways.”

Your lungs and throat burned from coughing out the water you swallowed, yet the pain was far preferable to the finality of drowning. The heavy fabric of your gown weighed you down as soon as your body crashed into the lake. 

Death reached for you, but the strange boy cradling you tightly to his chest had pulled you back before you were lost to its embrace.

“Little one, can you hear me?”

His eyes scanned frantically over your small drenched form for signs of serious injury, but you were completely distracted from your almost untimely end by the two feline ears twitching conspicuously amid the boy’s sodden curls. 

“You’re… You’re a cat!”

The boy’s jaw dropped open indignantly. 

“I’m tiger hybrid! Not a cat.” He shook his head irritably. “Have you never seen a hybrid before?”

“I’ve only heard of hybrids. I’ve never really seen one-”

Your fingers itched to touch the soft fur of his ears and you stretched forward almost absently to do so till he lashed out and snatched your wandering hand. 

“What are you doing?!” 

“Oh… I was going to...pet you?” you murmured sheepishly, prompting an irritable growl from the boy. 

“Little One, you do not pet tigers.”

He stood to his feet abruptly, dumping you into a soggy heap in the process. It took considerable effort for you to pull yourself upright while wearing 4 layers of thoroughly soaked cloth, but you eventually managed to regain your bearings and scramble after him. 

“Wait! Come back please I EEP-” 

The water dripping off your dress made the grass rather slippery… Both legs flew out from under you and, for the second time in less than a minute, you found yourself flat on your back. 

After a few moments of gazing miserably into the sky, a familiar face hovered over yours. 

“What a strange girl you are, Little One.”

You grinned.

“What is your name, tiger?”

He sighed deeply and held his hand out to pull you up. 

“I’m Yoongi.”

“Hello, Yoongi.” You tried to manage a proper bow, but only ended up losing your balance again. Yoongi grabbed your sleeve just in time to prevent you from crashing face first at his feet. 

“You’re completely hopeless,” he chuckled, endeared in spite of himself. 

Then you smiled. 

It was a fierce, blinding thing and Yoongi became aware of a subtle yet profound shift deep within the recess of his soul; something his primal half recognized immediately, but his human mind could not begin to comprehend. 

“No one’s ever said that to me before, even though I know they all think it.”

“And why is that?”

You shrugged. 

“They are probably afraid of my father.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in alarm. 

“You’re the warlord’s daughter?!”

“Yes,” you replied with all the haughtiness a ten-year old could muster, “and I’m quite used to getting what I want.”

Yoongi felt a grin tug at the corner of his mouth. You were such an adorable little brat. 

“And what is it you’re wanting now, Little One?”

You nibbled your lip for a moment, suddenly shy before the handsome hybrid boy whose beautiful feline eyes danced with unconcealed mirth. 

“I want you to be my friend.”

Thirteen years later, those same golden eyes locked with yours as a strangled sob bubbled up from the back of his throat. 

“Little One?” his face lit suddenly with pure joy “...is it you?”

Please let me know in the comments if you would like to be added to the taglist!

I would love to know any thoughts or theories you have! Thank you for reading! This story will be published on or around 7/31!

This is the original prompt which inspired this story...

[juniperreign]

Clipped Wings - RE8 Short Fic (Lady Dimitrescu x Maiden)

"Sweet mother, I cannot weave - slender Aphrodite has overcome me with longing for a girl." - Sappho

An ocean of red pooled around her feet as she stared at the body that had fallen on the floor. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. The air seemed to become light, rendering her lungs useless as she took sharp, inaudible gasps.

She fell to her knees, trembling fingers reaching out for the locks of beautiful hair that had spread so tragically, drenched in blood.

“Of all things, it was a woman?”

She couldn’t even hear the voice behind her. She was staring at the cold, soulless eyes that peered up at her.

“I refuse to fathom the idea of you dirtying yourself with a whore, especially with a woman at that.”

The smile that she saw this morning, the image that she had remembered in her head that brought radiance in her life was replaced with one that was blank.

Frozen.

Devoid of emotions.

There was a grunt of frustration. “I knew you were sick. I just wasn’t expecting it to corrupt your mind this fast.”

Her fingers were now drenched in blood as she brushed her fingers against the pale, skin. There was no warmth.

A voice of desperation. “No. She corrupted your frail mind. Your purity. I could not have that be taken away.”

There was a touch on her cheek but she barely acknowledged it. She smelt something foul.

“My pretty, songbird. I will help you. I will fix you.”

But there was nothing to fix.

There was nothing wrong with her, and yet…

“You need to be reminded of your place. Your place as my betrothed.”

It was bile.

Dirty.

She was moved to face him. A touch on her back.

“Because without me, you are nothing.”

Disgusting.

She had found her trembling and shaking in the cold. Eyes of fear had looked up at her and she saw the faint, dying flame behind it.

“P-please take pity on me, my l-lady… A-all I ask for is o-one night of rest in your c-castle,” she spoke.

The small thing was only wrapped up in a thin ragged layer of blanket. Her bare feet was roughed up by the terrain and cold weather. An odd sight.

“I do not take in strays, dear.”

But before she could turn away, a hand reached out to her dress and the scent of iron was strong. She looked down to see crimson against her white. She should’ve gotten angry, slapped her small body away, and back into the cold at her insolence for ruining her dress. But she didn’t.

“Please…!” She begged. “I c-can’t go back…”

She then saw a familiar spark behind those eyes.

And she understood.

“My Lady, if I may?”

Alcina let out a soft hum in acknowledgment, her fingers gently caressing the soft locks of the younger woman who was leaning against her side.

“What is it, my dear?”

There was an obvious pause of hesitance.

“The night we met…” eyes of curiosity looked up at her, “Why did you take me in?”

A peculiar question it was. “You rather I just left you out in the cold?”

“N-no!” She protested before looking away to avoid her gaze. “I just… I do not understand. I had nothing to offer you yet you showed nothing but kindness.”

A hum. “Yes, I did. So why question it?”

There was an expression that the younger woman tried to hide but Alcina could easily see through her.

“I’m afraid…” she whispered.

Alcina paused her reading to glance down at her.

“Afraid?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

She could still see the crown of her head, eyes still not coming back up to meet hers. Then a faint nod followed.

“That my luck could run out at any moments notice,” she elaborated quietly.

She watched the girl silently playing with her fingers. It was easy to tell that she was nervous and the sound of her racing heart was audible.

She found her small tells like this endearing.

With a small smile, Alcina reached down with her large finger, placing it underneath her chin, allowing her to meet her gaze.

“You think your stay here is temporary,” Alcina spoke.

When the girl averted her gaze, she held her chin with her thumb and finger, gaining the attention of her eyes once more.

“Y-yes, my Lady,” she replied quietly.

“And what made you have such foolish thoughts?”

The older woman watched the way her face morphed into one of apprehensiveness and perhaps insecurity.

“T-there are other prettier younger maidens that have come your way… others who are more nimble with their hands and those who are quicker to act.”

Gold eyes softened at her upon hearing this.

“You think I don’t find you as beautiful? As someone who’s not worthy enough to be at my side?”

A shade of red adorned the younger woman’s cheeks and she meekly shook her head. “Yes…”

Alcina watched the way the smaller woman leaned into the palms of her hand once she cupped her warm cheeks. The tips of her fingers had brushed against the roots of her hair before eventually burying themselves into her soft locks.

“Oh, my dear. Do you think that I would merely have maidens lounging in my bed at night? To have them be at my side from the moment the sun rises and sets?”

She still saw doubt in the younger woman’s eyes but she knew it would eventually fade. So she continued.

“I take such bonds very seriously. I may have lived in this world far longer than most but that doesn’t mean I waste and play around with such delicate moments.”

She finally saw the flicker of hope, igniting itself from her words. The woman seemed to process Alcina’s words and nodded slowly.

“So why me of all people? I simply don’t understand.” She asked.

Alcina closed her book and brought it aside to give her full attention to the girl.

She peered down at her. “That night you came to me, you were fleeing. Running from the life you once had,” she stated.

Alcina saw shame befall her doe eyes and the older woman refused to allow it to consume her, not when the flame had been lit.

“But that was not what I saw,” she continued firmly. “I saw a woman who defied the odds that were brought against her. Someone who was strong enough to fight against the chains forced upon her beautiful wings.”

Alcina brushed her thumb against her soft, pink lips and smiled when she saw surprise and the glaze in her eyes.

“You refused to have your wings clipped. Not many have the resolve to do such things and that, my dear, is one of the things that I admire from you.”

“My Lady…” she whispered, speechless, unable to form any words from the confession.

“Do not be mistaken,” Alcina murmured. “I would indeed take it very much to heart if you so choose to leave…”

A gasp. “I would never!”

Alcina shook her head from her words all the while ignoring the unpleasant constricting clench in her chest. She was not one to speak out of her weaknesses.

“I am aware. However, I would not force you to stay. That is not something I can fathom doing.”

Not to you.

Alcina may be a monster but she was not one to be a hypocrite. Her castle will not be her cage. It is far from the ones that the rats and scoundrels have made and she refuses to become the very being that she hates.

Alcina suddenly felt tears slide down her wrist and noticed a smaller hand had now wrapped around her forearm. The small sweet thing was burying her face into her palms, almost as if wanting to hide her face into pale snow.

“You are so kind to me,” the woman wept, “It feels like a dream.”

While looking at her face, Alcina thought that she had almost forgotten what it felt like to be encased in warmth. To have something close in her heart. But now... it was different.

“Oh but my dear, it isn’t.” She spoke gently while prompting the girl onto her lap.

Her arm encased her smaller waist very easily and she brushed the tears away with her fingers. She was so small, but oh so strong.

“This is very much real…” Alcina said softly.

As she leant down, her movement was met halfway, the younger woman pushing herself upwards to meet her lips. Red and pink roses brushed together, movements being at a pace of a slow dance. Yet neither was leading the other around, merely focusing on each other’s warmth and sensation instead.

Even in such a small body, the woman in her arms had the strength to overcome what most could not and contained potential that she herself has yet to see. Because of this, Alcina had decided long ago that she will be the one who will guide her, to show her just how far her wings can spread.

She will not allow history to repeat itself once more.

Another body fell on that day, the sounds of gurgling heard. She looked down at him with anger in her eyes as she watched him drown in his own blood. Eyes of mortification looked back at her as if telling her of the audacity she had just done.

Because she wasn’t supposed to do that. She was only supposed to listen, to behave, and to wait for a command like a dog. But she didn’t care.

She was exhausted. Tired of the bonds, of the chains, and the forced silence.

Tired of the glass walls and of the illusions.

She had enough.

She bent down only to wipe her fingers clean of his blood and said nothing else as his body writhed like a worm.

A fitting description.

She watched as it died within seconds.

And ran.

[ggreactionsandscenarios]

Hi hi, I hope you're doing well and having a good day, may I ask prompt 12 with Joy? Thank you!

Joy x Reader

Prompt n°12 : Mascot reveal

Game, set and match !

High school is hell, literal hell.

The entire social system is a way to let authentic people die alone as stupid sheep step on them. If you're not good looking, popular and spoiled you drown, it’s as simple as that.

You have to fit in boxes in order to survive, well that's what most people do but not you. You've never been into 'following the pack' type of bullshit. You rather die alone than pretend to be someone you're not.

There was a time you did dream about fitting in and escalating social ladders but that was a long time ago. Time when you agreed to that stupid idea of becoming the school mascot, girl did you regret it.

If it only depend on willingness you would have left that job but to be honest you needed the money and bonus point for college.

So yeah it's been two years of you being the mascot without anyone knowing because even though you didn’t care about people’s opinion you prefer to keep it to yourself. There was enough people that already hated you for being yourself you didn't needed them to say you were an hypocrite in bonus.

Well, you especially didn’t needed a certain girl that you had views on to believe that. Even though she was the polar opposite of you, you were still hoping she’ll notice you someday and if that was possible you'd like it to be in a good way.

Joy was well known to be the hottest girl in campus. Everybody knew her and even though she never really asked for anything, everyone was dreaming of courting her, well the more polite were, the others had other things in mind.

What you liked about her wasn't just her body like most people, there was more to her. Behind the visual trait that everybody praises her for, there was a touching girl. You learned that at your depends.

Joy contrary to most of the popular kids was a good student, she was interest in everything, during the few class you had together you never saw her hand not raised to ask questions. She was curious, she for sure liked school which was not your case and she had that beautiful smile that melted your heart everytime.

What was making Joy such a valuable person wasn’t her mind or her body though. What made you fall for her was way beyond that, out of all people and towards all of them she was kind.

Not just kind in the polite way, she was genuinely and truthfully kind. Never did you saw or heard anything about her turning down on someone. You still remembered seeing her in every uniform of every existing association program in town. Yet nobody knew about it, she never told anyone because she wasn't doing it for praises but because she wanted too.

That's how kind Sooyoung was, the kind to dedicate her life to others without second thought because that’s what she believed was right and you admire her for that.

When you were heading to the field that day for the annual friendly game between the two schools of your town you didn’t expect that you would experiment so many different emotions during a simple football game.

As usual you were alone in the changing room, the football players weren’t in the same room as you because of opposite gender separation policy which for once was in your favor since it helps you keep your secret identity well... secret.

Now that you were thinking about it, everybody weirdly succeed to hide you a really important aspect of this game. Somehow until the really last second you weren’t aware of the mascot reveal tradition. 

This tradition consisted in a reveal of the winning team mascot supposedly because people should celebrate its work as much as the player’s. It meant recognition for the mascot, well it didn’t meant that for you, for you it meant nightmare. Even more because it was due to the public to choose who would get the privilege of taking your mask off and of course they chose no other than Joy to take that place.

So here you were, sweating like never your performances made you before, Joy was in front of you closer than in your dreams, ready to be the first to know who was hidden behind the mascot mask.

She was standing tall in front of you, you could tell that even if she didn’t agreed to do that, she was excited to know. Cheered by the crowd she reached the aim of the lion head softly, she noticed your anxiousness by the way you stood stiff, eyes fixed in hers. 

When she rose the fabric just enough to see your neck, you flinched, scared of what was coming next.

“I already know it's you Y/N but I’m happy to know that I'm the only one to know.”

Her voice was soft, just loud enough for you to hear it. You understood what her words meant only once she spoke again.

“If you don’t want me to I won’t take it off. I know you don't like attention coming from them plus I'm not sure that I want to share this secret."

She was waiting for any answer coming from you but you were way too surprise by her knowing who you were to say anything.

"So.. I was thinking .. maybe we could run away from this masquerade and go somewhere else you and me ? Like on a date ? How does that sounds to you ?"

Hey hope your having a day as good as mine, here is your request 🤗 thank you for adopting that prompt by the way, hope you'll like the scenario give me feedbacks ☺ And well how does a date with Joy sounds to you ?-Ael