#his hand is resting on the locker hes not waving backwards i swear

[disasteradam]

Day 12: Hello Gordon!

The start of it all

[lucijawriteswords]

locker room | luke hughes

summary: you find an angry luke in the locker room after a loss and figure out exactly how to help him.

warnings: 18+!!!! SMUT. oral (m receiving), swearing, slightly angry luke, whimpering, begging if you look hard enough. a little fluff. poor rutger gets caught in the crossfire. pretty tame (just wait for my next one. it’s on its way.) not edited, i’m impatient

word count: 2.5k

A/N: hello! welcome to my new venture. i’ve not written anything like this before so please, give me some grace- and feedback, if you’d like. tell me how you feel, who you want me to write about, what you want me to write about. with that, let’s get into it, shall we?

18+ below the cut

you heard laughs echoing from the press stand where the opposing team was giving post game interviews. you scoffed as you strode by, muttering to yourself. absolute ref show.

the path to the locker room was second nature to you, ingrained in your head, as familiar as your own bed. you’d been there enough times. familiar faces passed you as players quickly headed out, a few gracing you with a look, even fewer with a smile. you smiled back at those who did. one caught your arm, a freshman who’s name you hadn’t learned yet, right as you were about to turn the final corner, and gave you a warning glance. “he’s really upset, y/n. really upset. just thought i’d warn you. i’m not sure if he’s sad upset or mad upset but regardless i figured i’d let you know.”

you knew this. you knew it the second the buzzer screeched at the end of the third and luke stormed off the bench, shaking his head. you knew when you heard a loud snap and then the angry voice of an equipment manager, scolding luke about breaking a stick.

you knew luke.

“thanks, kid.” he smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. you reached up to gently pat his shoulder; friendly, comforting. “hey, don’t do that. you played amazing. the refs were horrid.”

he nodded, releasing your arm and bringing his hand up to wipe under his nose, followed by a loud sniffle. at the same time, you heard a scoff echo from around the corner and turned your head to find a brown, curly head and a bare shoulder disappearing back through the locker room door.

the freshman- who’s name you still couldn’t remember- looked at you, panicked. you just huffed out a sigh and drew your hand away from his shoulder. “oh, goodie.”

“i- y/n, he’s gonna think- shit,” he breathed out, letting his head drop backwards.

“hey, whatever he thinks doesn’t mean shit because it’s not true. he’s upset anyways and now he’s gonna spiral cause he thinks i’m messing with his freshman teammate. so, good game, honestly, but i’m gonna go figure out that situation before it’s too late.” you rushed out, pointing towards where luke’s head had disappeared to.

the freshman- you really had to learn his name- nodded and muttered a tiny ‘bye’ before making his way down the rest of the hall. you offered a quick wave as you stepped around the corner and pushed the door to the locker room open.

upon your immediate surveillance, there was no luke. but, you heard water streaming against tile, and the showers don’t shut off or turn on automatically, so that means that someone turned it on and was still in there. you did a quick second scan of the stalls, and upon seeing that everyone’s jerseys were hung up, bags folded, and there were no shoes resting underneath a stall- except luke’s- decided that it must be, could only be, luke in the shower.

“luke?” you called, making your way across the maize and blue carpeting.

“in here,” he answered, voice clipped. impatient. upset.

“can i come in?”

“yeah, i don’t care. ‘less you have rut with you, in which case, stay out there.”

“rut?” who the hell names their child rut?

“rutger, honey. my replacement, apparently.”

you surmised that rutger must be the freshman, and decided that yes, rutger was a name you’d have a hard time remembering.

“baby, he’s not your replacement. we were just talking.” the water shut off as you were talking and you heard bare feet slapping against the wet tile, followed by a low ‘fuck.’

“why are you swearing, lu?” you wondered, taking another stop towards the showers.

“forgot my towel. would you grab it for me? it’s hanging in my stall.”

you chuckled, walking back towards his stall and grabbing the towel. it was rough, pilled. threadbare on one end. “ew. gotta get you a new towel, babe.” you giggled, sticking your finger through a hole in the corner and turning, wiggling it at him.

“can you just bring it over here you weirdo?” he grumbled, but a small smile graced his lips as he poked his head around the wall.

“can i explain?”

“honey, i’m soaking wet. can it wait?” still upset, then.

“no.”

“go, then.” he bit out, exasperated, angrily gesturing at you to explain. you made a face at him before speaking.

“he was just warning me that you were upset, lu. i was thanking him and he looked sad so i told him he played well and that it was a ref show, ‘kay? just talking.” you finished, tossing the towel to him. his head disappeared behind the wall briefly before he made his way fully out, towel wrapped around his hips.

“alright. just don’t want him getting any ideas.”

“wait, lu, doesn’t he have a girlfriend? i swear, one of the freshmen this year has a girlfriend.” you thought out loud, following him towards his stall before plopping yourself onto the ground, electing to sit rather than stand as he got dry and dressed.

“oh. yeah.”

you laughed without humor, watching his back flex as he undid and redid the towel around his waist.

“glad i got you that shitty towel. didn’t feel like getting dripped all over, if i’m being honest.” you said, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin on them.

luke froze, turning his head with a devilish smile on his lips. your playful expression dropped as he turned all the way around, water slowly trailing down the planes of his chest. you gulped.

“lu, don’t even think about it- LUKE!” you started, trying to get up, but it was to no avail, because in a split second he was standing over you, shaking his head like a dog, sending water all over you- and the rest of the locker room, for that matter. “you little shit!” you screeched, holding your hands up to your face, the water splattering unceremoniously on you.

you heard his hoarse laugh as he finished tormenting you, turning back to his stall and pulling a sweatshirt over his body. you heard the rustling of fabric as he reached into his bag and pulled out a pair of sweatpants. your hands still covered your face, trying to be prepared if your child of a boyfriend got a second wind, but by the wet thump of the towel against the ground, you assumed he’d pulled the sweatpants on.

“i’m not gonna splash you again, baby. you can move your hands.” luke said, his voice calmer than it was a few minutes ago.

“why aren’t you putting your suit back on?” you asked, taking in his outfit.

“not going out the front, so nobody’s gonna see. just gonna go out the back, s’where i parked anyways.” he spoke towards the ground, pulling on socks and slipping his feet into a worn pair of birkenstocks.

“nobody’s even here anymore,” you added absentmindedly, looking down at your apple watch. 11:37. “it’s late.”

“yeah, honey, i know. you got a date with rutger at 11:45 or something?” he mumbled, the sass making its way back into his voice at in response to your apparently stupid statement.

“oh well, pardon me, mr. perfect. wasn’t sure if you were too busy being mad at me for talking to someone to look at your watch. oh, boy, am i excited to walk to the car, freezing and wet with your mopey ass.” you cut out, voice raising at the end, having had enough of him. “i get that you’re upset about losing but come on, luke. he’s got a girlfriend, he’s younger than me, and i would never do that to you.”

“oh, so you admit that i was right for thinking that? you’re defending yourself pretty heavily, y/n, i dunno. you sure he’s not waiting for you?” he whipped around. there was no more playfulness.

“you’re kidding, right?” you returned, voice emotionless.

he simply shrugged, nostrils flared slightly, anger written all over him. tense shoulders, arms crossed. wide stance.

“god, luke, you’re such a child sometimes.”

“oh, i’m a child for being protective over my girlfriend, but it’s fine for you to get all up on him and touch his arm? fucking double standard if you ask me.” he was harsh, accusatory.

your mouth dropped, incredulous at his words, but more so his tone. “don’t you fucking DARE talk to me like that. once you’re thinking straight and decide to not be an asshole, text me. i’m gonna go to my dorm tonight.”

you shook your head, pulling your phone out of your pocket and clicking into snapchat, swiping into your roommate’s chat, starting to type a message to her to ask her to pick you up, but you felt a hand close around your arm, spinning you back. you were ready to fire off more words but said words were nipped in the bud as you felt luke’s mouth on yours, hot and heavy. any anger you had took a backseat as you felt his tongue on yours, his hands finding their place on your hips, pulling you into him.

he kissed you desperately, hard enough to almost hurt. you moaned when he bit lightly on your lip, sticking the tip of your tongue out to flick his upper lip. a type of retribution. something between a moan and a growl clawed it’s way from his throat, angry and ready to be released.

you pulled away, shoving him firmly backwards by the chest. his eyes were apologetic and he looked like her was about to say something but you quieted him by pushing him down into the bench in front of his stall. “talk later,” you muttered, kneeling in front of him.

“baby, i was mean to you, you don’t have to-” he cut himself off as you undid his sweatpants and pulled him out, felt him heavy in your hand. you pulled slow, languid strokes over his cock, relished the way his head tipped back, the way his adams apple bobbed, the way he whimpered when your thumb ghosted over his angry tip. you grinned at the noise, deciding to tease him even more. his breath caught in his throat, a wet, choked, noise, as you dragged your tongue across his slit, letting your saliva mix with the precum that was gushing out of him. he looked down at you then, bringing a hand to the back of your head to gather your hair. “don’t tease me, baby. can’t take it.”

“gotta ask nice, pretty boy.”

“please, y/n. i need your mouth, i need to feel you on my cock, please.”

a wicked grin carved itself onto your face as you spat into your hand and gave him three long, hard strokes from the base. “all you had to do was ask, lu.” you purred, taking him into your mouth, moaning around him at the taste, the weight, the relief of feeling him in your mouth, on you tongue.

you heard his head thump against the wood of the stall, his breathing ragged as your moan vibrated around him. you felt him twitch in your mouth as you pressed your tongue flat against the underside of his dick and swallowed around him, curses falling from his lips.

“god, y/n, not gonna last. take me so good, baby,” he cut out, voice strained as he bucked into your mouth, hips and words stuttering in some sort of fucked up prayer to your mouth.

you smiled as much as you could with a mouth full of dick, moaning around him to try to get him there faster. his fist tightened in your hair and a whine escaped your lips, buzzing on his cock.

you looked up at him through your lashes, saw the flush on his neck making his way up to his cheeks, pride in the fact that you made him like that, that you could have him like this. that you could reduce him to a moaning, whimpering mess with only your mouth. you moaned at the mere thought, feeling him swell in your mouth.

you tapped his thigh twice, knowing he was getting close. his eyes met yours, hazy and hooded and drowning in lust, in you. you nodded, wanting, needing to see him when he finished.

his chest heaved, eyes trained on you as you worked him, bobbing up and down his cock, spit coating him at the base.

“fuck, y/n, look so pretty like this. so pretty, baby.” he whimpered, impossibly close. you moaned around him, long and loud, wanting to taste him. “so close, baby, so close.”

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself, before pushing your head down further, feeling his head hit the back of your throat, your nose pressing into the soft skin of his pelvis, feeling him tense under you. a long, drawn out call of your name left his lips as you swallowed around him, trying not to choke.

“fuck, gonna cum,” he whispered, lightly pushing his hips into your mouth, thighs shaking as he finally let go, warmth filling your mouth, his cock jumping wildly. you moaned, tasting him, feeling his hot cum coat your tongue and throat, swallowing it down as much as you could with his dick still in your mouth. he hissed, pulling your head off, overstimulated. you swallowed again, not wanting to miss a drop, settling back onto your knees, looking at him trying to collect himself.

“you still mad?” you quipped, cocking your head. he rolled his eyes at you, still trying to catch his breath as he tucked himself back into his pants. “gonna take that as a no,” you answered yourself, pushing yourself up, brushing your hands over your knees, feeling the imprint of the carpet and your jeans on the skin.

he stood up, gathering you into his arms and pulling your head into his chest. you nestled your head there, arms draping lazily around his waist, leaning all your weight onto him, the lateness of this rendezvous catching up with you. you smiled into the softness of his hoodie. “i’m sorry, babe. just get jealous, you know how i am.”

“i know, lukey. it’s okay. but you know i would never do that to you, to us, so i got defensive.”

he pressed a quick kiss into your hair, muttering an ‘i know,’ tapping your butt lightly so you would jump. you did so, weakly wrapping your legs around his waist, clinging to him lightly, knowing he had you. you rested your head on his shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the column of his throat. “can we go home? i’m tired.”

he smiled, readjusting you so he could grab his keys from the hook in his stall. “‘course we can, baby.” he kissed the side of your face, and you felt the smile still gracing his lips.

[venuslcver]

WITHIN SCHOOL WALLS ⋆

pairing: academicweapon!jj x rival!reader

synopsis: a rivalry between two classmates, jayj and you, seemed to be just a miscommunication.

tw: banter, profanity, rivalry, fluff, miscommunication trope, feminine described character, enemies to lovers? (no use of y/n)

any type of interaction including likes, comments, and reblogs is appreciated! but ultimately not necessary. let me know if im missing any warnings!

strutting up the stairs of your school, you waved pleasantly at an acquaintance, who happily held the heavily weighted door open for you.

jesus it's cold

grasping at your school-issued blaze, sliding the sleeves down to cover your, now, cold hands. for you going to a private school, that your parents paid a shit ton of money for you to attend— they never seemed to splurge on warm air being spread throughout the school.

making your way over to the designated locker you had for years, you began grabbing a couple notebooks from the far left of it. opening up one of the notebooks, in particular, you scanned the notes that you wrote the day before in class.

you liked to be prepared for even the simplest of assignments you were given. so naturally when it came to exams you tend to panic a little. just a little though. but with the system that you put in place— it left very little space for anything to go awry.

god that makes you sound like a loser... i-i swear you're not a loser. at least from what i know...

eyes squinted, face deep in focus, finger gliding against the grain of the notebook— which was filled with every single thing that left the teacher's mouth. you were never one to miss something that could be detrimental to your learning curve.

just as you went to close the notebook, "no notes allowed during the exam", a hand momentarily stopped the closure of it, a large stanced figure loomed over your body from behind. said figure fully opening your notes back up, their head now resting on your shoulder.

"wait — i missed that last part. ahh, i got it now... you can close it"

slamming it closed— you slightly turned, sticking your palm against his face, pushing his heavy-ass head off of your shoulder. why did the school have to stick your locker beside the one person that you actively didn't want to interact with on a daily basis?

jayj was quick to bounce back towards you after you pushed him rearward with force. him, yet again, invading all of your personal space. though, from the front, now.

"have you heard of personal space — like ever?" you said sharply.

"what can i not read a fellow classmate's notes? i mean, i thought you were a good team playe-"

swiftly cutting his statement off, "i am a good team player— just not towards you""-who was willing to share her wisdom with others"

hearing his compliment, you veered away from the attitude that you previously had with jayj, "y-you think i have... wisdom?"

"well i would've— until about two minutes ago, you made'a mistake in your notes."

realizing that he only gave you a compliment to point out a flaw in your note-taking abilities, which, with no doubt you didn't make. switchin up, yet again, "ohh shut up", you said before taking the closed notebook, forcing it to make contact with his head.

left unfazed by the physical assault that you just gave him, even slightly turned on— "let's hope that you're right about this", he said walking backward, towards the classroom that was directly across from y'all's lockers.

rolling your eyes, having to follow his movements, considering the fact that this was your shared class that he was walking towards.

"are you followin' me?" jayj said just trying to get under your skin, again.

"n-no — were in the same class" annoyed that you even feel the need to explain yourself to him of all people.

"i don't know... feelin' like you're just using that as an excuse to follow me around like'a lost puppy"

"i'm not following you around like a lost dog" you explained, simultaneously letting off a judgy face. though that didn't stop you from still walking through the doorway when jayj opened it for you.

of course, he felt the need to sit directly beside you when he saw the desk wasn't occupied.

"it seems like you are the one following me around now…" you said spinning around to face him, while scrunching your shoulders together.

after your last class of the day, you made your way to your locker, and from there, jayj began following you around. even when you left the close vicinity of your and jj's lockers.

ignoring most of what you had said, jayj crept closer to you before he spoke, “so you were followin’ me?”

you don’t even know why you try. your face, now, dropping— every ounce of cockiness that was previously written on your face, completely erased, “that— that is what you take from what i said? really?”

to which jayj nodded his head while letting off an eat-shit smile. when still didn’t give a clear reason for why he was following you around, you pushed further, “no— like seriously. why are you following me around?”

"i don't know — got nothing better to do" jayj spoke, following your movements, jumping at the chance to open the library door for you.

letting out a quiet "thanks", you sat in a seat by an empty table. noticing that jayj was about to start yammering on, "you do realize that i came in here to study, right?"

"well... yeah but"

when he didn't continue his statement like you thought he would, you realized that he wasn't actually following you around for no reason.

"w-what is it? come'on out with it..."

now, taking a moment to observe the movements that jayj was making, you saw how jittery he currently was in the seat beside you.

"i-i was just you'know... wondering if you would want to go out to dinner sometime soon?"

huh. you thought he would be asking something stupid out of you. not asking you out. on a date. the only conversations that you and jj seemed to hold were tiffs. usually insulting each other in every way imaginable. personality, intelligence, and appearance-wise. well... now that you really think about it, the only one that attacked appearance-wise was you.

jayj had always thoroughly enjoyed the banter that he had with you, usually played into. feining for the day that you drop the act and admit that you enjoyed the jabs that y’all made at each other. even pushing each other to excel further academically in an attempt to not catch the other slipping.

thought it is to be said that he, just like the gentleman he always has been, never crossed the boundary of being truly hateful to you. not that it stopped you from making every hateful comment that you could think of.

he didn’t mind though, at least most of the time. the majority of the time he found it hot. forcing him to be unimaginably turned-on. occasionally indulging himself, keeping the banter going for as long as possible before taking the chance to palm himself when not another soul was around.

“s-sure?”

jayj looked at you when you showed a lack of enthusiasm, “you’know you can say no, right?”

“huh? what do you mean?”

“you seem a little — actually like’a lot unsure about going on’a date”

“yeah — well, do you really think it’s a good idea to go on a date? i mean, we don’t particularly get along… like at all”

hearing that your reasoning for not going on a date was it not being a good idea, instead of the latter, of you not being attracted to him was, rather, a relief to jayj.

a sudden surge of energy rushed through jayj, along with becoming visible, “yeah — no don’t worry about that… it will be amazing. a-and i will be a complete and utter gentleman. oh — and my friend, pope, his dad has this fancy ass restaurant that i can take you to. bet i could get us in for free, cause ya'know his dad is a motherfuck'n g"

hearing jayj at least attempt to clear up the problem that you presented him with, you felt like it was adequate enough to say yes to his offer, with confidence.

“sounds good! but… w-will you let me actually began studying?”

“oh, yeah, sure”, flustered, jayj stood up from his seat, skipping off, but not before laying a kiss on your cheek.

[primofate]

Genshin x fem!reader [Volleyball Team AU - Inspired by Haikyuu!] Manager reader gets hit on/harassed

Note: IM BACK FROM VACATION I recommend you read “How it’s like to be their manager” first before this one. Gives it a lot more perspective :)

Scenario: During an away game at another school, you catch the eye of a senior there. Little did he know that you’re the Genshin team’s manager and how much trouble he just caused for himself. 

Warnings: SEXUAL HARRASSMENT but still SFW, swearing, profanities, fighting. platonic relationships.

Characters: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Tartaglia, Kazuha, Xiao, Tohma, reader as the team manager

Other works in the Volleyball Team AU Series: Click Here

Lost.

It was like one of your traits. Getting lost easily. You sigh and look left and right to see if anyone was in the hallways to help you get back to the gym, or at least give you directions.

“Those guys...are gunna be worried if I don’t get back soon,” you sweatdrop a little and laugh nervously, picturing your childish team just losing it when you come back late. “I better hurry,” you mutter to yourself, pace quickening the slightest bit, just as a door to one of the classrooms slide open with a thud, revealing a spiky haired guy who stares and blinks at you. You take that opportunity to ask the guy where the gym is. 

Back at the gym where the team is doing warmups and practice receives, Tartaglia starts getting antsy and annoying. “Where’s Y/N-chan~~?” He sways back and forth. Zhongli sighs at his middle blocker, “She’ll be back soon, she just went to look for a vending machine,” They still had an hour to go before the practice match, so Zhongli wasn’t that worried. 

“Hmmm? It’s--HIT--been a while--HIT--since--HIT--she’s been back --HIT--though--HIT,” Kaeya states. Sentence cut off in pieces as he tries to keep the volleyball up in the air, his tied up blue hair starting to stick to his neck because of the sweat. Still, the team keeps practicing, up until 10 minutes later when even their captain starts to get antsy. 

“...Captain, don’t hide it, just admit you’re worried for her too,” Tohma states with a harmless laugh. Zhongli muses and finally sighs, “I have to stay here. Someone else go and look for her,” and immediately seven hands are in the air.

Tartaglia waves his hand “Me, me!”

Kaeya raises his hand “I’ll go!”

Diluc does too “I can do it...”

Albedo follows “I remember the layout of the school,”

Kazuha volunteers “I’ve got good instincts,”

Xiao gingerly picks his hand up “I’ll bring her back fast,”

and finally Tohma’s hand is high in the air, “I’ll find her!”

Of course everyone wanted to go... Zhongli decides he doesn’t want to deal with it and tells his team to go with rock paper scissors. Watching them battle it out really made him wonder how the hell he kept this team together. 

“YES!” Tartaglia pumps his fist in the air as he, Kazuha, Xiao and Tohma win the simple round of rock, paper, scissors. Kaeya, Diluc and Albedo are silently sulking, but continue their practice. “We’ll be back soon!!” Tohma waves at them as they exit the gym, starting their search on the ground floor classrooms.

Back where you were, you’d been following the guy for at least 2 minutes now. He said he’d lead you to the gym...but...it seemed as if there was less and less people to wherever he was taking you. It was the ground floor, at the end of the hallway where lockers lined both side of the walls. Suddenly the guy’s hand is wrapped around your wrist and he pulls you towards him. You instantly resist, pulling your wrist back and keeping away from him. “I-I just want to go back to the gym, my team is waiting for me,” 

You steel your gaze at the guy. If he thought you were just going to stand there and take his blatant disrespect for your personal space, he was wrong. But his next move leaves you feeling disgusted, your skirt hikes up and he grins. “Stop!” you screech and twist your wrist away.

Tartaglia halts in his tracks at your familiar voice. His head turns just as his other three companions does. 

The scene unfolding before him makes. him. see. red. 

Hell, he doesn’t even see anything except the image of him punching that grin off of that guy’s face. His vision zones in on the bastard’s features, he strides over, in less than 5 seconds reaching towards the guy’s collar and slamming him on the nearest locker. “The hell do you think you’re doing?!” You’ve never seen him so angry before, but the realization of what happened has you cowering away, feeling like some dirty thing that was played around with. 

“Tartaglia, ease up!” Tohma runs to try and restrain Tartaglia’s arms. He shoots a look at Xiao who immediately turns around to get the rest of the team, particularly his captain. Kazuha strides over to you, watching as you faced away and looked at the ground, ashamed. 

Kazuha was never one to resort to violence, nor was he particularly a resentful guy. But he feels it. He feels the hatred rush through his veins, but he focuses on you instead. “You’re alright, Y/N,” he places a hand on top of your head and smooths your hair down just as the others arrive. 

Tohma is barely holding on to Tartaglia, his strength matches his fury, but Diluc finally arrives and together with Tohma, successfully pulls Tartaglia away from the guy. 

“Calm down,” the red haired spiker insists, to which Tartaglia only shouts, eyes engulfed in fury and piercing the offender with his gaze. 

“This fucker touched Y/N!” 

Zhongli, Kaeya and Diluc freeze at the news. Their heads slowly turn towards the attacker. 

And now all set of 8 eyes on him are menacing, cold and unforgiving.

How dare he.

But Diluc holds his ground, restraining Tartaglia. 

Zhongli’s head turns towards your frame, seemingly meek and tiny and tears pooling around your eyes. 

Xiao hurries next to you as he arrives, the displeasure on his face was immense, specially when he starts wiping off the tears cascading down your cheeks. He grits his teeth “Don’t waste your tears on someone like him,” he knew well that you must have felt ashamed, and that your tears were not something you could control, but it was the best thing he could say. 

It was Kaeya, unrestrained and gurgling with hot anger that lifts his fist up.

But it was not his fist that connects with the offender’s jaw.

It was not his hands that pulled the offender up by his collar once again.

And it was not him who states “Do not come near her again. Don’t even look at her,” 

The whole team freezes. 

It was their captain.

The captain that was always calm and collected. Who always tried to stop fights and apologize for the inconveniences that his team caused. There’s a shiver that runs up the member’s spines at the feral look on their captain’s face. 

And then he drops the guy on the ground once again. The offender panicking and crouching backwards and away from them. “We should report it to someone,” Albedo, sensible and smart as ever, suggests. “...but throwing a few more punches in doesn’t seem so bad...” he adds and narrows his eyes at the guy.

“No, don’t. Let’s not waste our energies,” you firmly say and wipe the remaining tears away from your eyes. Kaeya moves over to your side and slides his jacket off of him and places it around your shoulders. “Okay, princess, whatever you want, we’ll just drop him off at the principal’s office and make a report,” when it really counted Kaeya’s flirtatious nicknames for you were quite reassuring. You smiled up at him a little.

Zhongli passes another glance at you, his fist is still tight next to him but he hoists the guy up and has Tartaglia come with him, since he was the one who saw everything. 

The rest of the team turns to you, with Tohma taking your hand and leading you back to the gym. “You’re okay, Y/N, we’re here,” and sure enough they keep close enough to you to fend off anyone else. Like wolves protecting their pack. You knew the chances of that happening again was slim, but seeing them so concerned and circled around you like a shield was really what you needed right now. 

“...Thank you,” you whisper to them as you arrive at the unfamiliar gym. They all turn back to you with a smile. 

“We’ll beat them to the ground at this game, Y/N, you’ll see,”

Taglist: @softlybeloved @bobaducky @normalisthenewnorm @how-simpy @atasi-luna @berryqueue @hallohun @milkypompon @fadinganchornight @coldstonecrematorium @probablybethere @hanachan_2481 @gultonluvv @batcatistruemaster @plumpkie @amigenshin @foxxtrot-116 @spirlimpo @hadesaedes @minyoustar @yunaholics

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[malfoysstilinski]

Hi!!!! Can I request a Draco Malfoy smut where the readers gives him a blowjob before the game, and they fuck after?

rewards | DRACO MALFOY (smut)

PAIRING: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: public sex, degradation kink, oral sex (both receiving), spitting, hair pulling, rough sex, probably more.  

AN: sorry it’s been a while. nothing’s wrong, i’m just lazy :)

DO NOT STEAL MY WORK/POST TO OTHER PLATFORMS.

“Calm down, Draco,” you murmur, running your hand across your boyfriend’s shoulder as he curses out Potter one more time. “You’re a far better Seeker than Potter. One of the best Slytherin’s ever had. The team would be nothing without you.”

Draco sighs, running a hand through his blond hair. It flops back onto his forehead immediately, soft and shiny from the lack of product in it. He never puts any gel in when he plays, knowing the wind and sweat will only mess it up later. You prefer it this way— natural and soft so you can run your fingers through it easily if you want.

“I hate him,” Draco grits his teeth. “I really do.”

“Fred and George were bluffing,” you refer to the way that they had previously been mocking Draco before the Gryffindors entered their changing rooms. “He won’t beat you.”

“I know,” Draco states, though he doesn’t sound as confident as he usually does.

You know how you could get some adrenaline pumping through his veins.

Draco’s lost in thought as he adjusts his Slytherin jersey in the mirror inside the changing room you’d snuck into. The rest of his team mates were already dressed and hanging around some benches, so you’d grown worried when you realised Draco was still inside.

You take his moment of distraction to smooth your hand down his strong arm. Draco glances at you through the mirror, eyes darkening at the realisation of what you’re doing when you purposely trail your fingers back up his arm lightly. Your eyes meet his in the mirror.

“Y/N...” he warns.

“You have fifteen minutes until you have to be out there,” you say, gliding your hand back up his arm. “Give me seven— max.”

Draco’s brows raise slightly at your proposal and he turns so he doesn’t have to watch you through the mirror anymore. Your other hand now moves to his other arm, but instead of doing the caressing game on it to get him all hot and bothered, you grab him and move him backwards.

Draco feels the back of his legs hit the wooden bench behind him and he drops down onto the seats. Your hand grabs his chin, fingers gliding across his strong jaw as you forced him to look into your eyes.

Your leg pushes his even further apart and you slowly fall down onto your knees, his silver storms studying your every move. Hands smooth out his trousers, and then grab his knees as you lean up, pressing your lips against his. He sloppily kisses back as your fingers trace back to the zipper of his trousers, undoing them.

As you manage to pull his dick out of his underwear, Draco’s hand twists into your hair, pulling slightly when you start to jerk him up and down, feeling him harden to his full potential. His lips continue to work against yours until your thumb swipes over his tip, coming back sticky with precum, and that’s when he tugs your hair back roughly.

You whimper at the pain, looking up at the sneering look on his face.

“That’s a minute gone,” he warned, “You should be spending the rest it far more usefully.” 

His hand shoves your head down, closer to his cock. It twitches slightly as your mouth closes over the top of it, your tongue flattening as you use the tip of your muscle to run across his shaft whilst you suck.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “See? Much more effective when you use your mouth on other places.”

You don’t reply, you’re too busy ensuring that Draco’s mind is blown. Your hand that had been previously gripping his thigh moves to the base of his cock, and you jerk it up and down as you spit down his length, using your saliva to slick him up.

Draco’s hand scrunches in your hair harder and his head tilts back, jaw clenching. He swears he can see stars as his hand shoves you down further, hearing and feeling you gag around him. Your eyes water and you breathe through your nose the best you can as you bob your head up and down.

You pull off of him after three minutes. “Please use me, Draco,” you beg him, reaching down and moving you hand beneath your skirt. “Fuck my face like I’m just your toy.”

“You are just my toy,” Draco spits as he stands, grabbing the sides of your head and sliding his cock back into your warm mouth. “It’s all you are, all you’ll ever be. You’re such a useless slut- your only purpose is to make me cum.”

He pulls out of your mouth but before you can close it, he grabs you by your cheeks and squishes your face together. As he gives you room to open your lips, Draco spits directly into your mouth and then thrusts his cock back inside.

“Mhmmm,” you moan around him, the vibrations causing Draco to pick up the pace as he thrusts in and out of your mouth, hitting the back of your throat.

Your choking sounds and the wet noises of your throat only drive him to go faster, knowing for a fact that your throat will be wrecked after this. But you willingly let him.

Draco smacks your arm. “Stop touching your pussy. Toys don’t get to cum. Only if I say so.”

You obey and peer up at him as he continues to thrust into you. When Draco looks down and your eyes meet, you feel him twitch again inside your mouth and you know he’s done. A loud groan escapes his lips, his head throwing back and his cum spurting from his tip. It goes straight down your throat as he thrusts lazily, grip tightening on your hair. You swallow it all.

Draco breathes nearly as heavily as you as he pulls his cock out of your mouth. He glances down when he’s recovered, finding you with mascara beneath your eyes, lips swollen and hair messy, cheeks flushed. Some of his cum had managed to land on your bottom lip.

He reaches down, his thumb swiping it off before he shoves it into your mouth. You suck eagerly, making Draco smirk.

“Good slut,” he says, “You’ll be rewarded for staying truthful to your word.” He looks down at your watch. “Six minutes. A minute earlier than you promised.”

You fight the urge to smirk. By now you know Draco and what he likes like the back of your hand.

“For now, I have a game to win.”

Draco didn’t lie. He caught the Snitch before Harry could, Slytherin beating Gryffindor by a landslide. Fred and George were left displeased, but Draco was as smug as ever. He waited in the changing rooms for all of his team mates to get changed and leave, his back to you when you finally peel open the door and step inside.

He’d slid off his jersey, leaving himself in just his trousers. You breathe out at the sight of his pale back, the muscles rippling as he reaches up and runs a hand through his sweaty blond hair. Draco turns to face you, face lifting into a smirk.

“I believe a congratulations is in order,” you smile proudly, ignoring the dampness in your underwear that had been there since before the game. Watching him soar across the pitch like a God hadn’t helped either. Or his words from before.

You wrap you arms around his neck, looking up into his silver eyes. His hands land on your hips, tugging you closer to him.

“Well, it’s all thanks to you, darling...” he says, hand moving to caress your cheek and brush the hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. “And the motivation you gave me beforehand.”

“Hm?” You smile innocently.

“I believe I owe you a reward,” Draco says, “For making me cum. For being Slytherin’s biggest slut.”

“Draco,” you breathe, feeling a wave of arousal rush through you.

“Bend over the bench.”

You do what he tells you to do, sticking your ass up into the air slightly so your school skirt barely covers your lace knickers. Draco makes a sound of approval at the sight, his large hand brushing your ass and hooking onto your pants. He tugs them down to your ankles and brushes your skirt up, sending a swift smack to your ass.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, “Such a fucking perfect sight.”

“Draco, please,” you whine.

“Please what?” He demands.

“Please touch me,” you plead with him. “Make me cum.”

Draco’s behind you then, his finger swiping up your wet heat and collecting all of your arousal. He makes the usual comment about how wet you are, attempting to humiliate you, but you just agree eagerly.

“All for you,” you say.

“All for me, hm?” Draco murmurs as his fingers start to rub circles on your swollen clit. “Tell me more.”

“I couldn’t stop imagining this during your game,” you admit, whining when two of his fingers suddenly hook inside of you, curling up and hitting your walls. “I was clenching around nothing. Wishing it was you though.”

Draco thrusts his fingers in and out faster and rougher, your whines growing louder and a wet sound filling the empty changing rooms.

“Oh, yeah? What part of me?” Draco hums, “My fingers or my cock?”

“Your cock,” you cry out when he thrusts at your g-spot, your legs clamping together.

Draco smacks your ass and pries your thighs apart, pulling his hand away from your soaked heat. You nearly cry in disappointment, the tightening feeling in your stomach vanishing.

“You’ve been a good girl today, I suppose you deserve it,” Draco agrees, “Stand up. Remove your jumper and bra.”

You peel off the Slytherin jumper you’d been wearing in support of your boyfriend and then unhook your bra like he told you to. Draco reaches out and palms your breasts, tweaking painfully at one of your nipples and making you cry out.

He kicks up his jersey off of the ground and slides it over your head, your hard nipples peaking through it. He gropes at you underneath his green jersey.

“You look so fucking hot,” he hisses before he grabs your hips and turns you, slamming you up against the lockers.

Your cheek is pressed against the locker and you breathe heavily as his large hand reaches around to shove your bottom half our further. Your ass presses up against his erection as he pulls it out of his trousers again, sliding the tip up and down your soaked heat from behind.

“C’mon then, whore,” Draco demands roughly, “Don’t hold back. Show me how much you appreciate my cock in your worthless hole.”

He suddenly shoves into you. You immediately whine, clawing at the lockers you’re pressed against as Draco pulls out nearly all the way before slamming back inside. He does it again and again, slowly and teasingly at first just to listen to your pleads and moans, and then his hands move to grip your shoulders.

He starts to pound hard into you, the sound of skin slapping filling the changing rooms whilst he bites down on his bottom lip and works on thrusting as hard and fast as he possibly can.

“Dr-Draco!” You cry out. “You’re so— ah! You’re so fucking huge.”

“You were made for me,” Draco hisses against your ear from behind you as he doesn’t slow down the relentless fucking. “This pussy is mine. Mine to pleasure, mine to take from.”

“It’s yours,” you whine in agreement. “All yours.”

He reaches around and starts to rub against your clit. You scream as he uses his other hand to shove your face further into the locker. The pain mixes with the pleasure and has you trembling around him, crying out from a mixture of his cock sliding in and out of you and his slender fingers abusing your clit.

“Cum,” Draco orders, “Cum, you useless slut, or I will and then you won’t get to. Not until tomorrow.”

Draco smacks your clit and you shudder around him, crying out his name as your walls clench his cock unforgivingly. You pulsate, withering and clawing, your body jerking uncontrollably from between the lockers and Draco. Your orgasm is so intense that Draco has to shove you harder against the green lockers to stop his thrusting cock from slipping out of your drenched heat.

When you come down from your orgasm, panting and crying, Draco gives one more thrust and hisses your name, his cum suddenly flooding your walls. You moan as he gives a few more jerks.

“Yeah, take my cum, slut,” Draco pants, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

He eventually slides out of you, the two of you smiling slightly and covered in sweat. Draco runs a hand through his soaked hair and pulls himself back into his underwear and trousers. You slide your skirt back down so it’s covering you.

“That was amazing,” Draco murmurs, “Thanks for... well, distracting me before the game.”

You smirk and press a kiss to his lips. “Thanks for distracting me after the game too.”

[volleychumps]

Congrats on 3k!! SO its canon that Osamu loves onigiri n even opens his iwn shop in the future, I want to request a scenario where Osamu meets this girl who chill n nonchalant n loves onigiri(n all food!) just like him and isnt interested in him like all the other fangirls yk n hes just slowly falls in love yk hehe (set in high school pls!) Thank you!! I love ur blog!

Aight bet- I’m finally working on this piece skfkjdsfkjsdf

Genre: Fluff, one-shot 

Warning(s): mild cursing, mild nsfw themes at the end 

Foodie. (Osamu Miya) 

- the one in which your love for food perks Osamu Miya’s interest- 

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

“Whoaa, Samu- why so much today?” Suna sweat drops at the sight of his friend’s lunch box as the gray-haired boy runs a hand through his fringe, shrugging lightly as his friend pulls up a seat to eat lunch with him at his desk. Breaking his chopsticks apart, his voice falls to a casual tone. 

“Took ‘Sumu’s.” 

“Why would you take your brother’s if you have the opportunity to get like six bentos a day?” Suna poked a straw into his juice, tilting his head with a lazy smirk. 

Osamu visibly shuddered, pretending not to see the group of girls peering around the corner and into his classroom, knowing better. The first time he had accepted a bento from any of them, it had obviously been store-bought and rearranged to make hearts and such. The gesture would have been ignored and eaten if he didn’t find a few stray hairs in the octopus weiners, and the thought of someone’s hands rearranging perfectly good food made him queasy.

“I wish ‘Sumu’s rejects didn’t come to me.” Osamu mumbles, and Suna chuckles lightly, setting down his juice before peering to his right at the classmate who had settled back down in her seat from having her lunch in the courtyard. 

“Oi, Y/N-san. That looks good.” 

“You want the rest?” You offer, having made too much onigiri the night before, stopping the movement to put the lid atop your bento. You were done with it anyways, and the leftovers usually got put in the fridge to be forgotten about. 

Suna glances at the onigiri, shrugging before taking the two left in the box as you smile cooly at his thanks, putting in your earbuds before laying your head on your desk to catch some much-needed shut eye before class resumed. 

Osamu looks up, not really paying much attention to Suna’s interaction, with a now cleaned out bento-box as his dark eyes land on the now outstretched onigiri in Suna’s hand. The middle blocker shrugs, eating the pointed top of the onigiri with a content look on his face: it was good. 

“Where’d you even get that?” Osamu’s voice was on edge as Suna rolls his eyes, pressing the ball of rice further. 

“Some place safe, I promise. If you weren’t too absorbed in your food you would know.” 

Osamu looks at the onigiri in his hand warily, seeing there were at least no hairs on it before sighing and taking a cautious bite. Onigiri was something he loved most, and he hoped taking this mystery rice ball wouldn’t ruin his- 

wait. 

Suna swore he could see stars in his friend’s eyes as Osamu took a second, larger bite, snapping his head up to meet Suna’s what the hell expression. 

“Where did you even get this?” He repeated his last question, staring at the onigiri as if it had to be sheltered, protected, and loved under his care as Suna lazily finishes his last bite. 

“Tuna mayo. I used special seasoning in the rice when I formed them.” You interrupt, yawning with a stray headphone out of your ear. “Turned out good, no?” 

“Oh. I’m not interested in dating right now, sorry.” 

The beat of silence that followed Osamu’s blunt sentence was heavy, and you amusedly look at Suna, who had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. 

“Oh. What a shame.” The teasing tone filled your voice as Osamu arched an eyebrow, and you glance at the slightly glaring group of girls before connecting the dots. Still, you couldn’t really find the meaning in explaining that his assumptions were surely not the case, settling for sticking your headphone back in and resting your head back on your desk. 

Suna sighs as Osamu blinks, realization dawning onto him. 

“Wait...she wasn’t-” 

“No. She wasn’t. Idiot.” 

The bell rang as Suna got up to return to his desk, and Osamu Miya casts a glance at the girl who sat next to him, tiredly pulling her earbuds out again to listen to the next lecture. A part of him wanted to apologize, but the thought of that had sent an unexplainable heat to the tips of his ears. 

Instead, he rummages in his bag-

and you blink when a can of coffee hits the corner of your desk with a slight tap, Osamu pulling his notes out as if he hadn’t in the first place. He sits forward, feeling your confused stare as he flips open his notebook. 

“For the onigiri.” 

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

“Again? Another one?” 

“Don’t act like you don’t get them too.” Osamu sighs to his brother, shifting the letters around in his shoe locker to get his actual shoes. “This is all your fault, anyways.” 

“The little pigs never learn, do they?” Atsumu grins, and his twin rolls his eyes at the brashness of his words as Atsumu’s shoulder touches the lockers. “You coming to practice today?” 

“Do I have a choice?” 

“Nope.” Atsumu pops the p, spinning on his heel. “I’m going ahead, sweet brother of mine.” 

“Bite my ass.” Osamu replies evenly, shoving the letters deeper into his locker.

“No, mine is better. Thanks for the offer though.” 

The wing-spiker runs a hand through his silver hair, seeing out of the corner of his eye a group of girls hyping up the girl in the middle, looking in his direction as he witholds a sigh. He didn’t hold the brashness of his brother, but he did get tired of the endless confessions sent his way, based soley on his looks- nothing else. 

His mental preparation for rejecting her was interrupted when a hand reaches out, and dark eyes widen slightly when you lean into him, your hand resting on the area of the side of his body. Osamu arches a brow at your easy smile as your face remains inches apart from his own. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Give it...twenty more seconds.” You reply, and Osamu blinks in utter confusion, about to ask what the absolute hell you’re talking about before a series of footsteps run away, a few whimpers in the mix as you pull back abruptly. 

“They’re gone.” You say, opening up your own shoe locker before slipping the pair out casually. “Sorry if that made you uncomfortable, hope it was at least better than having to deal with another crying girl.”

Osamu remains silent as you tap the point of your shoe against the ground twice before glancing at him, slinging your bag over your shoulder. 

“You don’t have to be so...emotionless about it, you know? A simple apology afterwards would be enough. But hey, you don’t have to listen to a stranger.” You wink, waving backwards. “Sorry again, I thought I’d thank you for the coffee. It woke me up, Miya-san.” 

Your footsteps stop when he finally speaks. 

“...Osamu.” 

You glance back in surprise. 

“You can call me Osamu.” 

“Y/N.” You smile a little, nodding your head before continuing to walk. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Osamu.” 

Osamu didn’t reply as you walked out of the school, watching from behind you as you untangled your headphones in the midst of walking-

not understanding the foreign feeling of being on the other side of a crush, usually being the one crushed on all this time.

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

“Y/N, got any free food for me today?” 

“Suna, I swear-” 

Suna grins lazily at you as you cross your legs, rolling your eyes playfully as Osamu scoffs at the audacity of his friend. Today, you ate your lunch with the two boys in your classmates you had somehow grown closer to, ignoring the heated stares on the back of your neck. 

“I’ll trade you a tamago for a kaarage.” Suna says finally, and your eyes light up at the offer.

“Deal.” You say immediately, Osamu hiding the beginnings of a smile at your love for food behind his hand as he continues to eat. Suna easily swipes one of the pieces of chicken from your box, putting into his mouth before nodding as he chewed in appreciation for the flavor. 

The silver-haired middle blocker found himself not eating anymore when Suna held a rolled egg up to you on that same pair of chopsticks. You look at him strangely, and Osamu, the quieter one of you three, could only watch as you ate it anyways. 

“It’s good, right? I made it.” 

“Tell your mom I send her my regards.” You reply nonchalantly, and Suna groans at how easily you had figured out his lie before you notice that the quiet Osamu had somehow grown even quieter. 

Did...did you two just indirectly...?

You and Suna exchange glances, and the dark-haired boy simply shrugs before going back to his lunch as an idea pops into your head. 

“You want to try, Osamu? I won’t make you trade anything for it.” 

“Favortism, much?” 

The middle blocker feels his chest swell when you lift your own chopsticks up to him, grinning when Osamu’s spirits immediately lift. 

“You and food, it’s abnormal-” 

“Suna, no one likes your commentary.” You bite back, and you tilt your head slightly when Osamu takes your wrist, steadying your hand as he eats the kaarage at the end of your chopsticks.

You’re wide-eyed when he pulls back, chewing with the beginnings of a smirk on his features at the doe-eyed expression on your face. The place where his hand held was warm. 

“ S’ delicious as always. Thank you.” 

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

The sky swirled with dark clouds forming over head as you looked up, frowning while tightening your hands on your grocery bags. Osamu glances at you, the light patter of rain hitting the pavement as you look at him guiltily. 

“Sorry ‘Samu, I shouldn’t have asked you to come shopping with me after school.” 

The unlikely friendship had developed to the point where you and Osamu were really good friends, the silver-haired boy even seeing you home on some nights after an unplanned hangout with Suna after their volleyball practices. 

You even called him ‘Samu, and he didn’t correct you. 

....In fact, he liked it when you called him that. 

“Mm. Yeah, you shouldn’t have.” 

“I hate you.” You pout, and Osamu puts a single hand atop your head, shrugging while smirking a little. 

“No you don’t. Got anywhere to be tonight?” 

“Nah, no one’s home right now.” You chewed on your lip, knowing Osamu was watching you as you stared at the coming rain. He knew you hated storms, and in all honesty wanted to get you somewhere safe with people as soon as he could. 

“Want to come to mine? ‘Sumu’s practicing extra and my parents are working.” 

“...are you sure?” You say in unease, and Osamu clicks his tongue before taking the bags from your hands and setting them down, shuffling in his practice bag for a second.

“Here. We’ll run to mine, it’s not far from here. Pull the hood all the way up.” 

“Awh, do you care about me?” 

Yes. “Nah, don’t get your hopes up.” 

Osamu watched as you slipped the oversized material over your head, coughing to hide the smile that came at the sight. 

“You’re telling me we’re going to run? In the rain?” 

“Do you want to protect the food you bought or not?” 

“...you’re right, let’s go.” 

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

He could definitely get used to this. 

Almost immediately, Osamu had shoved you into the bathroom after turning on the hot water, ignoring your whines about how you were fine before setting a folded pile of one of his shirts and sweatpants in front of the door. 

It felt comfortable, the pouring of the rain outside, as Osamu mixed broth in a pot while knowing you were here with him in the safety of somewhere he knew you’d be okay. Months of friendship hadn’t made him take any particular advances towards you, seeing as you hardly noticed his feeble attempts anyways. Suna’s advice to just go for it, rang in his ears, the silver-haired boy becoming so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t see you enter the kitchen. 

His breath hitches at the bareness of your legs, his shirt covering down your form to mid-thigh as he quickly returns his attention back to the pot. 

“I left pants there, you know. Real comfy.” 

“They don’t fit.” You shrug, approaching the sink. “Do you need me to wash the vegetables?” 

He merely nods once, fighting to keep his heart rate under control as you do so, continuing to bring the broth to a boil. Still, he physically liked the atmosphere of you here in his kitchen, wearing his shirt while making dinner. Your hair was damp and pushed to one side, and you hum a light tune to yourself as you begin to chop carrots. 

“My curry is going to knock your onigiri out of the water.” 

“I’m offended.” Osamu glares at you as you giggle, looking down at the final product after an hour. You offer him a bit of the broth on a spoon, rolling your eyes at the cautious look on his face when he sips it. 

A pleasant look crosses his face before he can stop himself, and you grin, not really thinking about it as you put the spoon in your mouth to get a taste for yourself. You cheer, jumping up and down cutely as Osamu leans against the counter, crossing his arms with a small smirk as you open up the rice cooker. 

“Man, wish Suna was here. We made way too much.” 

A spike of jealousy flits through his stomach as he watches you begin to plate the food, his jaw clenching. 

He wanted this. He wanted your banter, your cooking, your love for food, and your nonchalant personality.

 He wanted you. He wanted you with no risk of losing you to anyone else, no matter how platonic. 

Just go for it.

“Y/N.”  

“‘Samu, can you grab the-?” 

You never finished your question. 

Osamu took two wide steps across the kitchen, hand grabbing your waist to pull you into him tightly while his other hand rested against the counter top on your side. He gripped onto the stone countertop as he kissed you, roughly and impatiently, as you sigh into it as if you had been waiting for it. 

He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping your lips as the hand on the counter moves to entangle in your hair. He uses his weight to lean into you, lifting you slightly to sit you on the counter as he stands between your legs, the smell of your clean skin filling his lungs in the now heated kitchen. 

When a sound slips your lips, he’s pulling back, wide-eyed at the fact that he had let every bit of pent up emotion spill out of him. You bite your slightly swollen lips, pulling him closer to you with your hand on the side of his neck. 

“It’s about damn time.” 

“Whatever.” Osamu says, the corner of his lips quirking up as he kisses down your neck sweetly, loving the way your bare legs tightened around him. All the sexual tension, every moment of heavy silence that seemed to say all the words he had feared to say, all combusted in this moment. 

“Samu?” You pipe up, pouting when his hand begins to slip up your thigh. 

“Hm?” 

“Can we eat first?” 

Osamu stares at you for a second before chuckling, resting his head on your shoulder as you kiss his temple. 

“Of course we can eat first. God, I love you so much.” 

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

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046 @let-me-have-my-own-name @deadontheinsidebut @lifeisntjustblackandwhite @curiouslilbeast @aprettyfruit @wisepandaslimeland @h0ngh0ngh0ng @lmkjimin @therestless101 @orangegiraffe7 @dai-tsukki-desu @kac-chowsballs

[doubleleoenergy]

ii. Dark Times, The Princess and the Pogue Series

Waking up, half past five, blood on pillow and one bruised eye. Drunk too much, you know what I'm like, but you should've seen the other guy.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, slight mention of blood, mentions of bruises, swearing

Summary: The events at the Boneyard leave JJ with visible evidence of what took place. Thankfully, JJ’s met with a friendly face.

Words: 2445

JJ is startled awake by his alarm clock beeping over and over, groaning as he slammed his fist on the snooze button.

5:30 A.M.

“Fuck.” He cursed, burying his body under the thick comforter. It was the first day of his senior year and he felt like shit. JJ had gotten back to John B’s place a little after midnight and the pair had passed out immediately in their beds.

The alarm went off again, JJ rolling out of bed and unplugging the alarm all together in frustration. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed, rubbing his palms against his bare thighs. The events of last night ran through his head, still slightly hungover and his eye throbbing from where Kelce sucker punched him. His eyes travel to his pillow, dried remnants of blood from the cut on his forehead. He should probably take a shower and at least attempt to clean up and look semi-decent for the first day.

JJ grabbed his towel off the floor, opening the bedroom door and heading into the bathroom. He caught a glimpse of his expression in the mirror, touching the skin that was freshly purpled under his eye. JJ turned the handle of the shower to the hottest setting, letting the water warm up as he shrugged out of his boxer-briefs and stepped in.

The water seeped into his skin, relaxing his muscles and clearing his thoughts for the moment. He normally was the guy to start fights just because he could, or come to the defense of his friends, and it felt different for someone to view him as the good guy for once. Someone like y/n, who knew nothing about him or his past.

He washed his body of the blood, dirt, and sweat from the night before, standing under the water until it ran cold. Finally, he turned off the water, wrapped his lower half in his towel, shaking his blonde locks as he left the bathroom.

“Hey, man.” John B stated, sitting back against the couch, his fingers typing up a message to the gang on when he’d leave to pick them all up for school. John B finally looked up at JJ, squinting his eyes, his face full of pity. “He socked you pretty good last night, JJ.”

JJ scoffed, grabbing a bowl for cereal and pouring the contents in, grabbing the half-used milk from the fridge and filling up the bowl.

“You should see the other guy.” He retorted, a big grin on his face as he stuffed a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Who was she anyhow?” John B questioned, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

“Y/N? Said she just moved back here from Montana. Used to live here when she was little.” He shrugged nonchalantly, stuffing another bite into his mouth.

“She seemed into you, JJ.”

“Nah, man. She was just thanking me for beating the shit outta Kelce.” JJ claimed, tossing his finished bowl into the sink.

“Whatever, man. The way you’re acting shows me you might be into her too.” John B stood up, walking towards the bathroom to shower before they had to leave.

“We don’t even know if she’s a Kook or not!” He called out, hearing the door shut and the shower start. JJ walked towards his room, peeking his head outside the door. “By the way, there’s no hot water.”

“Fuck you JJ!”

The Pogues pushed through the front doors of Kildare County High School, mingling with the other students as they walked down the hallway towards their lockers.

“JJ, starting the semester off right with that shiner.” Kiara teased, earning a middle-fingered salute from JJ.

“Not funny, Kie.” He called out walking backwards down the hall until he turned, knocking into the person in front of him, sending their backpacks, and bodies, flying into the white vinyl tile floor.

“Fuck!” Y/N cursed, rolling herself off her back and scrambling to get up.

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying…” JJ trailed off as he got to his feet, remembering her features immediately. “…attention. Shit, y/n, I’m sorry.” JJ held out his hand to help her up, pulling her to her feet as she grabbed her phone and backpack off the floor.

“Hey, JJ. It’s all good.” Y/N mumbled, smoothing out her dress. JJ thought she looked beautiful, her body clothed in a forest green dress with tiny white flowers, a black belt pulled tight to cinch it in at the waist. Her feet were covered in a pair of plain white sneakers, a few scuff marks on the sides to show that they were worn in.

“Oh, I brought this in case I ran into you. Not that I meant to physically run into you like this.” He dug his hand into the back pocket of his cargo shorts, pulling out the bandana from the night before. “Sorry, I didn't have time to wash it.” JJ dropped the bandana into her hand, locking eyes with y/n. She couldn’t help but get lost in her train of thought, his ocean blue eyes distracting her.

Y/N pulled herself back to reality, a bright blush spreading on her cheeks as she stuffed the bandana in her backpack. “Uh, thanks. Your eye looks…well, like shit.” She announced, chewing her bottom lip between her teeth. Nice response, y/n. JJ noticed how flustered she was, a different side of her than the confidence she exuded the night prior.

“It’s nothing.” Just as he spoke Topper and Kelce descended the hallway, Kelce glaring straight at the two. He looked rough, a few cuts along his face and a line of bruises covering the right side of his face from his temple down to his cheek. Kelce gritted his teeth as he passed, JJ grinning from ear to ear as he gestured towards the man. “He definitely looks like shit though.” JJ proudly stated, y/n turning her head to look at the damage JJ had done.

“I really wish you’d let me repay you for last night.” Y/N insisted, shifting her weight as she stood.

“It’s no big deal, really.” JJ leaned his back against a set of lockers, raising an eyebrow at the woman. “So, what’s your class schedule?”

Y/N huffed, pulling a folded piece of paper from her backpack and opening it up, furrowing her brows as she looked at the information. “Uh, I don’t really know if these are good or bad but…here.” She handed him the sheet of paper, hoping he may be able to give her some guidance.

JJ did a once over of the contents before handing it back to her. “Well, it looks like we have the same first class. Mr. Sunn is a good guy, and a great teacher. I’ll walk with you there, if you’d like.”

Y/N nodded her head, pulling her backpack higher up on her shoulder. “Lead the way.”

The last bell of the school day rang, dismissing the students from their classes, a rush of teenagers flooding the hallways. Y/N had shared two classes of her day with JJ, her first and third periods, and it was nice to know someone on the first day.

She had gotten the same questions: what’s your name, where are you from, why are you here, are you a Kook or a Pogue? The last question was mainly asked by classmates, and frankly, she didn’t know what it meant. JJ was called a Pogue the night before, it seemed as though it had been a slur that night.

Y/N walked silently out the front doors of the school, getting ready for the two mile walk home when she heard someone calling her name in the distance. She turned around, a smile lighting up her face as she saw who it was.

“Hey, how were the rest of your classes?” JJ asked when he caught up to her, pulling his backpack up with his left hand. 

“They were fine, thanks for helping me figure out where they were earlier.” She admitted, walking down towards the front sidewalk.

“Anytime. So uh, where are you headed?” JJ slowed his pace to keep in step with her, looking down at the woman.

“I was about to walk home actually.” Y/N stated, fiddling with the strap on her backpack.

“Walk home? Why don’t you hitch a ride with us, John B won’t mind at all. Plus, I’d love for you to meet the gang.” JJ stepped in front of y/n’s path before she could protest, looking at her with reassurance. “C’mon, you’ll love them.”

Y/N huffed, nodding in agreement before JJ directed her over to where John B had parked his van. The rest of the Pogues were already inside, John B sitting in front with Sarah in the passenger seat, Kiara and Pope waiting in the back of the van, the door slid open.

“Hey guys, I’d like you to meet y/n, thought we could give her a ride home.” JJ announced, gesturing to the woman beside him. “She’s the reason I look like shit today.” He teased, causing y/n to shove him just enough to make him sway.

“Damn, y/n, you’re already not taking JJ’s shit. You’ll fit right in.” Kiara commented, jumping from the back of the van and giving a small wave. “I’m Kiara, this is Pope, John B, and Sarah.” She pointed to each one of them.

“Nice to meet you guys.” Y/N smiled sweetly at them before JJ guided her into the back seat of the van, closing the door behind them. Y/N moved to sit on the plush leather seats, JJ squeezing in next to her, their legs pressed against each other. Her eyes focused on JJ’s thigh pressed against her own, her heart beating loudly in her chest, the roar of the engine coming to life pulling her from her thoughts.

“Where to?” John B asked, backing out of his spot in the parking lot and heading towards the main road. 

“Two miles down make a left on Sycamore lane. It’s the third house on the left.” Y/N instructed, pushing down the cuticles on her fingers, a telltale sign of her nervousness. The radio played lightly in the background as they drove, John B and Sarah talking about their late-night plans.

“So, y/n, you just moved here?” Kiara questioned, shifting in the spot next to her on the seat.

Y/N nodded her head, still picking at her cuticles. “Yeah, I used to live here when I was little, but I don’t remember it.” 

JJ turned his head towards her, his knee knocking against hers as they sat close together. He could smell her citrus body wash filling his nostrils. “You live with your parents?”

The question made her stomach turn sour, trying to remain as emotionless as possible. “I live with my older sister, Bailey.” JJ could tell there was some pain in her voice, and he didn’t want to pry, leaving it at that.

“Well, you’re welcome in the Pogue life anytime.” Pope added, leaning his head against the van window.

“Right...thanks Pope. I kept getting asked today if I was a Pogue or a Kook at school. Care to explain?” She asked, tilting her head to look up at JJ.

“Alright, so we’re all Pogues...well, Sarah was a Kook but now she’s just as shit as the rest of us.” He teased, receiving a glare from the blonde woman. “So as Pogues we are basically the bottom feeders of society. We live in the cut, are regular working-class people, you know, that shit. But we’re obviously much cooler than the rest of the people on the island. Then there’s the Kooks: they live in the figure 8, are the upper-class of the island, us Pogues work for the Kooks most of the time. They think they’re the cream of the crop, but as you know from meeting Kelce, they’re the shittiest people you’ll ever meet. So, are you a Pogue or a Kook?”

Y/N chewed on her bottom lip, shrugging her shoulders in response. “I guess I’m like you guys, if that’s okay. I mean, my sister’s an emergency room nurse at the hospital so she makes decent money but it’s...it’s just us.” Her voice was soft, looking down at her hands. Kiara threw her arm around y/n’s shoulders, a proud smile on her face.

“You’re definitely a Pogue, especially after the way you talked to Kelce last night. JJ told us all about it during lunch.” Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the thought of JJ talking about her. Maybe he was just bragging about the fight, it didn’t mean anything, right?

The van pulled to a stop in front of y/n’s house, a one-story bungalow-style with a bright yellow front door. JJ opened the door of the van, hopping out and offering his hand out to y/n, helping her to her feet on the sidewalk.

“Thanks.” She mumbled, trying to hide the crimson blush on her cheeks. JJ saw it though, resting his arm against the frame of the van, a warm smile playing on his lips.

“No problem.” 

John B rolled the passenger window down, giving y/n a small wave. “If you’re not busy Thursday after school we’re going fishing, we’d love for you to join.” The gang shook their heads in agreement, y/n meeting JJ’s blue hues as he nodded as well.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks again for the ride.” She gave one last wave before walking up the steps to her front porch, fumbling with the keys before unlocking the door and pushing inside, the van taking off down the street.

“Bailey, I’m home!” Y/N cried out, dropping her backpack by the front door and kicking off her shoes. Her sister appeared around the corner, clad in her scrubs from work.

“How was the first day?” She asked, going to the fridge and pulling out a beer, popping off the cap and taking a swig.

Y/N plopped down on the couch, a smile spreading across her features. “It was actually great. My new friends want to take me out fishing Thursday night, is that okay?” She asked, turning her head towards her sister who was finishing up a pot of hamburger helper on the stove.

“Yeah sure, I’ll be working a double, so you’ll be on your own that night. I’m glad you’re making friends; I promise you’ll love it here. I did when I was little. And mom would be happy that we’re back here too. She never really wanted to leave, there were just…too many bad memories.” She turned off the heat and moved the pot off the burner.

“Now come set the table, dinner’s ready.”

Tagging those who may be interested or who may boost this. Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list: @midnightf, @serendipityrogers, @sokovianheadtilt, @bucksmotel, @blackwiddows, @fuckandfluff, @agentofbarnes​, @astrydis​, @moniamaybank​, @matbarzalschain​, @bigassnocash​

[when-they-write-stuff]

-

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

That’s what Derek would like to say.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski and his stupid face, his stupid smile, and the stupid way that Derek would always see him in the hallways and that bright look in his eyes always made him stumble. Fucking Stiles Stilinski and the way that Derek couldn’t get him out of his head for some reason.

For some stupid, unbelievable reason.

Cora thought it was hilarious. Derek thought it was the most annoying thing ever.

Stiles was the most annoying thing ever.

“Hale!”

Derek nearly stumbled over his own feet at Coach’s shout, turning around to see a basketball sailing right toward his face. Eyes rounding, he barely had the chance to duck as laughter filled the air and he glared across the gym— where all the cheerleaders stood in their little group, Stiles right splat in the middle.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

“I said, Hale!”

Growling, Derek turned back around as Coach stalked toward him. Derek’s older sister used to tell him that Coach’s bite was worse than his bark, but Derek had come to realize that was utter bull. If there was one thing BHHS’s basketball coach was good at, it was yelling.

“Where the hell is your head, Hale?” Coach shouted, jabbing him on the forehead. Derek swallowed another growl and let the man poke away, knowing better than to ever avidly seek out Coach’s wrath. “You’re living in a daydream today!”

“Sorry, Coach,” Derek mumbled, dropping his gaze. The sound of laughter was still in the air, though, and his eyes snapped back up unconsciously, over Coach’s shoulder as he took in Stiles’s bright and grinning face.

He was always grinning and that bothered Derek like nothing else. The way his eyes would dance, his laughter would make Derek’s heart skip a beat, and— and—

“Hale!”

Derek blinked at the shout right in his ear, feeling like he’d just been dunked into cold water. Coach was scowling now and Derek felt his face turn redder, wishing he could be anywhere else but practice at the moment. “Uh, right. Sorry, Coach.”

“Yeah, kid, you’ve said that already. Are you feeling alright today?”

“I’m fine,” Derek said, forcing himself not to look back over at where Stiles was. “Really.”

“Good,” Coach said. “Because if you miss the game this week, I’m taking you off the starting lineup for the rest of the season.”

Derek looked back at the man in alarm, but Coach just raised his hands, turning away.

“Don’t force my hand, Hale.”

Derek watched him walk away and then despite himself, despite everything, glanced over his shoulder. Most of the cheerleaders had lost interest at this point— except for Stiles. Stiles, who was still staring at him, that crooked smile still hanging on his lips. And the moment his eyes met Derek’s, something in his expression changed. He grinned wider, raised a hand, and Derek quickly turned back around.

He wasn’t doing this. He wasn’t… ugh. 

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

-

“I don’t know why, man,” Stiles said, slamming his locker shut. “But the guy hates me. You should’ve seen him at practice yesterday.”

“I don’t think he hates you,” Scott said, shrugging on his backpack. Stiles shot him a disbelieving look and the boy shrugged, starting down the hall with Stiles at his side. “I just don’t think he knows you. I mean, you guys never even talk, right?”

Stiles glowered. “I was his chemistry partner last semester and I’ve been on the cheerleading team since I was a freshman. He should know me well enough to at least smile back when I wave hi.”

“He just ignored you?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I dunno, dude. He gets all weird, clams up, and then pretends like I don’t exist.”

Scott gave him a curious look, but Stiles wasn’t paying his friend any attention anymore. Speaking of the devil, he eyed Derek as they passed him and a few of his buddies gathered around their lockers. And for a moment— one brief, making Stiles’s stomach clench moment— grey-green eyes met his own. 

But then Hale’s face tightened, his eyes snapped away, and he slammed his locker so hard, all of his buddies jumped.

Stiles rolled his eyes, walking faster past. “See what I mean?”

Scott was still giving him a strange look. But Stiles only half-noticed it, forcing himself not to glance over his shoulder as the sounds of the jocks' voices faded. Glaring down at the floor, he wondered what the hell was so wrong with him. Or maybe what the hell was so wrong with Derek Hale.

So Stiles might have been crushing on him for three years now. So what? It wasn’t like it actually mattered judging by the fact that Hale had never even really acknowledged his existence anyway.

“Whatever,” Stiles said. “Screw Derek Hale.”

“Sure, man,” Scott said, shaking his head. And honestly, Stiles thought he was holding something back. But did he care? Absolutely not. Stiles had no cares in the world.

Especially not about Derek Hale.

-

“I’m just saying,” Erica said, readjusting her uniform and dabbing at her glossed lips. “If you like him so much, you should consider talking to him once in a while.”

Derek pulled a face, making Boyd snort at the girl’s side, one arm wrapped around her waist. The rest of the cafeteria was far too loud around them and he was trying to concentrate on the chemistry homework that he had definitely not done. Back when Stiles had been his partner, Derek had actually been driven to get it done, if only to impress the boy. Not like it’d ever worked, he didn’t think.

He didn’t really know how the hell to impress Stiles Stilinski.

“I don’t like him,” Derek growled, ignoring Isaac’s disbelieving scoff. “I just think he has no right being so loud and what the hell is up with the outfit?”

Erica shot him an obvious look, gesturing down at her own, and Derek rolled his eyes. 

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Isaac asked mildly, attention fixed on the orange he was trying and failing to peel. “Or is it because whenever you catch the sight of Stilinski in a crop top on the court, you trip over your own feet and lose the ball?”

Derek shot him an annoyed look. Isaac wasn’t even paying attention.

“He’s right,” Erica said, smirking wickedly. “But if you’d like, Der, I can put in a good word. Stiles is my Batman and he sure could use his own Clark Kent.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, whatever,” the girl shrugged. “Just tell me if you change your mind.”

Derek glowered even more, gaze still drifting across the cafeteria. Totally not toward the table where Stiles sat surrounded by his friends, Scott’s arm slung over his shoulders in a way that definitely didn’t make Derek frown. 

“Whipped,” Erica snorted across from him. Derek turned the weight of his glare toward her, trying to wipe at least some of that knowing smirk from her lips.

It didn’t work.

-

If Stiles was sure of one thing, it was that Mr. Harris hated him.

It wasn’t like chemistry was his least favorite class or anything— or at least, it didn’t use to be. But he was pretty sure Mr. Harris hated him with all his heart and soul, and that had kind of soured the class for Stiles as the year went on.

Which was why when the man stuck them with some lame-ass book assignment and proceeded to get on his phone, acting like none of his students existed, Stiles shot Scott a grin and held out his hand, making a grabby gesture.

“How much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”

Scott gave him a wide-eyed look, which only made Stiles grin wider. 

“Cause I swear, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t,” Scott said, eyes darting nervously to where Harris sat. “He’ll have you in detention for the rest of the year.”

“It’s almost over anyway,” Stiles said, still grinning. “And he can’t give me detention if I accidentally ‘fall’ now can he? Twenty bucks and I’ll make him forget all about this stupid time filler assignment, easy peasy.”

“Stiles—”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

Stiles turned around, blinking in surprise at Erica Reyes. She smirked, nodding toward Harris.

“But you have to do it so hard, he falls out of his chair.”

Stiles looked at her for a long moment, debating. At the desk beside her, Boyd shifted a little nervously, but didn’t say anything to talk his girlfriend down. Chewing on his lower lip, Stiles thought for one more moment, then grinned brightly, holding out his hand.

“Deal.”

“Money after,” Erica said, eyes glinting. “But he has to be out of his chair, Stilinski.”

Scott was still giving him a pleading look, but Stiles pretended like he didn’t see it as he turned back around. Harris was still fixated on his phone, feet propped up on his desk. Stiles studied the man, tilted his head, and then shoved himself up so fast, his chair went tipping and he caught the underside of the table, taking it with him as everything went spilling to the floor.

There was a shout, a yelp. Stiles watched in absolute glee as Harris jerked so hard, he kicked his coffee cup off his desk and his chair tumbled backward, taking the man and the cord of his laptop, wrapped around his foot, with him.

For a moment, the classroom was silent. Stiles glanced back at Erica, who looked like she was just barely containing a fit of laughter.

Then, “Stilinski!”

Stiles winced, shooting Erica one last look. Her face was bright red now. “Twenty bucks, Reyes.”

“Derek will cover me,” Erica said, jerking her head to the table across the room. Stiles looked over, startled, to see Hale looking at him with wide green eyes, face a little pale.

Stiles offered a weak smile, raising a hand in a small wave. And then the boy was looking sharply away.

Stiles didn’t even have a chance to feel insulted before Harris had grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him from the room. 

-

Stiles did, after all, get Friday afternoon detention for the next month, despite his protests that the whole ‘table flipping accident’ was really an accident. He supposed it was worth it though; twenty bucks was a two or three milkshakes at his favorite diner if he didn’t get fries.

“I can’t believe you, dude,” Scott said, elbowing him in the side. “That was so stupid.”

“That was so genius,” Stiles said, elbowing him back. “Harris completely forgot about the assignment and I’m up twenty bucks.”

The boy just grilled his eyes. “From Derek?”

The grin slipped off of Stiles’s lips. In all of the excitement, he'd completely forgotten about Erica absolutely screwing him over. Catching his expression, Scott barked a laugh, patting him on the back and starting away.

“Best of luck with that, man.”

“Hey, wait! Scotty? Scott!”

The thing about Derek Hale is that Stiles wasn’t really intimidated by him, per-say. Sure, the guy was a year older, constantly gave him the cold shoulder, and was always surrounded by his ‘too cool for school’ jock buddies. But Stiles was also pretty sure Derek was a bit of a nerd. Even if it was just secretly so.

He’d probably been the best chemistry partner Stiles had ever had. Even if he’d pretended like Stiles didn’t exist the entire time.

He sought him out before the game, heart thudding against his chest in a way that Stiles didn’t really understand. It was hard enough separating Derek Hale from his buddies, but his sister also stuck to his side— and she was intimidating. 

Cora was Stiles’s grade and, like him, a few classes ahead. She also scared the crap out of Stiles whenever those eyes lit up with anything close to mischief.

“Good afternoon, Stilinski,” she said as Stiles approached, arms folded across her chest. “Nice top.”

Stiles glanced down at himself and then rolled his eyes, glancing at Derek. For some reason, the boy looked a little constipated and his face was bright red. “Erica owes me twenty bucks.”

Cora raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her brother. Derek just stared.

Stiles sighed. “She said you’d cover her.”

“She— what?”

“Twenty bucks, dude,” Stiles said, sticking out his hand. “Pay up.”

Cora made a scoffing noise and clapped Derek on the shoulder before giving Stiles an amused look. “And that’s my cue to leave. Go easy on him, Stiles. Derek gets a little tongue-tied when he can see skin.”

Stiles blinked, unsure what to do with any part of that sentence. But Derek’s face was red all the way to his ears now and before Stiles could say a word, he was turning away too, starting toward the locker room.

Stiles blinked again, rooted to the spot for a moment. Then, shaking his head, he started after the boy.

“Hey, dude, wait!”

Derek did not, in fact, wait. 

Stiles followed him into the locker room, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to catch up. Derek went straight for his locker and started to tug off his shirt, making Stiles yelp and avert his eyes.

Which was stupid, right? Yeah, that was stupid. It’s not like he’d never seen another dude change in the literal locker room before.

“I don’t have your money,” Derek said, sounding like he was grinding his teeth together. Stiles licked his lips nervously, turning to face the boy again.

He was still shirtless.

“Uh, right,” Stiles said, shaking his head. Silently, he willed Derek to pull on his jersey or maybe just stop stripping altogether. His mind was blank for the entire time that Derek finally pulled his basketball jersey over his head, raising an eyebrow afterward as if he didn’t know why Stiles was still within spitting distance of him.

“Well?”

Stiles opened his mouth, closed it, and then frowned. “Okay, dude, what the hell is your problem?”

Derek paused with the jersey half pulled down his torso. Stiles tried not to blush.

“You’ve literally only spoken to me like twice,” Stiles said. “And still hate me for some reason. Have I ever done something to offend you? Are you offended by all that is—” he gestured to himself up and down— “This?”

Hale looked taken aback. Stiles’s throat tightened.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t…” Derek shook his head and pulled his jersey all the way down. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Stiles stared at him. He couldn’t see much of the boy’s face in the darkness, but he was pretty sure he was still lying about something. Derek grabbed his bag, starting to brush past, but Stiles caught his arm before he could go anywhere.

Derek made a noise of surprise, spinning back around. And Stiles quickly let go, retreating a step back, and promptly got his feet caught in his own bag, a noise of surprise leaving his mouth before he started to topple over.

He definitely wasn’t going to be fine after this, some part of his brain supplied helpfully.

Only, Stiles didn’t brain himself. Suddenly, there was a hand around his forearm and seconds before Stiles hit the lockers, Derek hauled him back up, grunting slightly.

Except, just because Stiles excelled at making bad things even worse, he found himself lurching forward with the momentum, slamming right into his so-called “you’re fine, I guess” savior.

This time, it was Derek’s turn to go toppling. And the only help Stiles provided was him falling right after the boy.

In all the ways he could die, Stiles never thought it would be death by angry-jock-who-just-got-tackled. Underneath him, Derek’s eyes were wide, face pale, and Stiles stared back, pretty sure his heart had stopped beating in his chest.

For a moment, he was almost terrified to breathe. Then, slowly, he realized he wasn’t dead yet.

“Um,” Stiles said, face turning hot. “Sorry.”

He half-expected Derek to shove him off or maybe give him a good punch in the face first. But instead, the boy just stayed there, frozen, eyes wide and pupils dilated. Stiles felt his throat close, carefully starting to push himself up.

“Stiles,” Derek said croakily. Stile abruptly froze.

“Oh my god, dude, I’m so sorry. Did I break something? Please tell me I didn’t break anything.”

Derek was still staring at him. And Stiles didn’t mean to drop his gaze to the other boy’s lips, he really didn’t. It wasn’t like he’d never imagined what it would be like if Derek one day kissed him. Possibly after he realized Stiles actually existed, possibly after he realized how damn hot Stiles was.

Because he was, thank you very much.

“Stiles,” Derek said again. And Stiles realized he’d been staring for much too long.

Shit.

In a second, Stiles was pushing himself up. He half dragged Derek with him, swaying a little as his heart thudded against his chest. The silence in the locker room was almost too loud as Derek stared at him for a long moment, chest rising and falling a little too fast.

“So,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. “About that twenty dollars—”

He was cut off by the action of Derek kissing him.

Derek Hale. Derek Hale was kissing him and Stiles was pretty sure he hadn’t just hit his head too hard when they both fell or something. For a moment, he was too surprised to do anything but make a startled noise at the back of his throat, and then Derek was crowding him against the lockers, one hand carding through his hair as Stiles came snapping back to himself like a rubber band stretched too far.

Derek Hale was kissing him. And dammit if Stiles didn’t kiss him back the moment Stiles exe. was working again.

If he found out later that he had just hit his head too hard or maybe Derek had actually killed him, Stiles supposed he’d be fine. He’d be fine because yeah, he’d probably thought about this a thousand times, but he’d never actually seen it happening.

He also kinda hadn’t ever done anything like this before, so he really hoped Derek wasn’t about to call him the worst kisser ever or something.

Stiles let Derek take the lead as the boy tightened his grip in Stiles’s hair. And yeah, he was so glad he’d decided to let it grow out Sophomore year. Because this? This was every one of his fantasies.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a buzzer from outside. 

Stiles jerked so hard, he slammed his head against the lockers, groaning in pain as the kiss broke. He felt a little dazed, a lot shocked, and the moment he opened his eyes, Derek was looking at him with that ‘caught in headlights’ expression again.

Buzzer, some part of Stiles’s brain offered. 

The game.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles said, snapping back to reality. If he was the reason that the star player of the basketball team was late to the game, Lydia was totally going to kick him off the cheer squad. Derek was starting to look a little more grounded too, thankfully, and even in the dim light, Stiles could tell his face was bright red.

“Um…”

“Yeah.”

“That was—”

“Mm-hm.”

Derek snapped his mouth shut, eyes flitting from Stiles’s face, to his lips, and then back up. And that was Stiles’s move, wasn’t it? “Was that bad?”

Stiles blinked. Once more, Stiles exe. logged off for a second and then he shook his head, staring. “No? No, definitely not. No.”

“I, uh, don’t hate you,” Derek said. A small, almost shocked laugh built up in Stiles’s throat.

“I could tell.”

Derek looked down at himself, his uniform, and then toward the door. When he looked back, his expression was almost hesitant, and Stiles was almost surprised he’d never seen a look like that before. “I have a game.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, finally cracking a small smile. Because his heart had stopped thudding against his chest now and he just felt a little warm. A little tingly. Which, if this was all real, was actually quite pleasant. “Yeah, dude, I’m usually there too.”

Derek’s ears turned red. “Oh, yeah.”

Stiles looked at the boy, hesitated for a moment, and then leaned forward, pecking him on the cheek. Derek immediately went statue-still again and Stiles snorted despite himself, patting the boy on the shoulder as he slipped by. “That’s for good luck, Hale. I’ll see you out there?”

Derek was still wide-eyes and speechless when he turned around. Still grinning, Stiles offered him a wink and salute, before all but stumbling toward the door.

He could feel Derek staring after him. But the boy didn’t say another word.

Stiles had never seen himself the one to break Derek Hale.

-

Derek stayed after the brown-haired, amber-eyed boy in silence, his thoughts moving slowly. For a moment, he felt dazed. Then winded. Like he’d already played the game, won, and had maybe been declared MVP or something.

But then Stiles was gone, Derek was left in the silence, and he finally snapped out of his trance.

A trance, yeah. That’s what he could call it.

Because he had just kissed Stiles. He had just kissed Stiles Stilinski.

Derek blinked, then reached up, touching his lips. And fuck, Stiles had tasted like cinnamon and spices. And somehow, it had all been better than Derek might have ever always wondered.

He had just kissed Stiles.

“Oh,” Derek said, as the sound of the scoreboard buzzer went off outside the locker room again. Game— starting— right.

Oh. 

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

-

Oh gosh, so I've never actually written a Sterek High School fic, so I apologize if it's a bit rough around the edges. I couldn’t figure out to work the jumper part in, but I hope crop-tops were a okay substitute @wolfile​! Thank you so much for the prompt <3

(if you enjoy my writing, consider sending a coffee? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[migilini]

Chosen Family - Sunset Curve

summary: The boys didn’t show up for school so you and Bobby meet them in the Studio and spend the afternoon with them.

a/n: The JATP Discord Server I’m in gave me this Idea :) Prob gonna wrote more little blurbs about 1995 Sunset Curve.

words: 1.8k

warnings: pure friendship fluff

Requests are open

MASTERLIST

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

“Are they here?” you asked Bobby who sat next to you in biology, your pent tapping the desk impatiently. He shook his head and took out his notebook “I don't know I haven't seen most of them today.”

“Okay, if they’re not here at lunch, I'll skip for the afternoon and see if they’re still alive,” you grumbled. Bobby let out a loud laugh “You know that it isn't your responsibility?”

“I know but it's our job as friends to care. And this is just my way to do so.” you shrugged your shoulders and flipped through the book to find the right page.

"Sure this has nothing to do with the big test this afternoon?" You gave Bobby an offended look.

“Miss Y/L/N and Mister Wilson would you like to share your conversation with the class?” Miss Kluster scolded, crossing her arms over her blue blouse, a thigh frown on her red lips as she looked at the teenagers angrily.

“No Miss.,” the friends said simultaneously.

“Good. Then be quiet now. The class has started.”

You and Bobby looked at each other with a smirk, you rolled your eyes slightly while he scrunched his nose.

++

You let your tray fall on the table, making the only other person sitting and the food on it jump. “Woah! Why so aggressive? Guessing Alex wasn't in English?”

"Nope." You shook your head and popped the p with slight annoyance. “Did you have more luck?” Bobby shook his head. You sighed and packed your lunch into your bag. You looked at him expectantly "You coming with?" He shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and mumbled something that you took as a yes. He clumsily tried to get up while simultaneously packing the rest of his things and nearly fell backwards off the bench.

Getting out of school wasn't hard, especially when you’ve skipped several times and knew where the teachers normally stood to watch, not that you ever skipped school to hang out with your musician friends. You and Bobby sneaked around the teachers' room and took the long way around the gymnasium, only to climb out of the boys' locker room window and then run over the football field to the parking lot where his car stood.

“Let's be honest here, you also wanted me to go because you don't have a car.” Bobby realised once the two of you sat comfortably in his car. In fake pain, you held a hand to your chest. “I would NEVER use you like a free taxi. I normally ask Reggie but he isn't here so…”

Bobby gave your shoulder a light shove before turning the music louder and driving off.

“I heard you crying loud, all the way across town. Cause you been searching for that someone. And it's me out on the prowl” you started to sing along to the Greenday song blaring from the radio station. Scrolling down the window, you held your hand out, embracing the warm summer air. Your hair flying wildly around your face.

You always did something like that, needing the feeling of being free, “I think it's the closest thing to being able to fly.” you always told the boys when they made a side comment.

Bobby drummed along to the song, his fingers tapping the steering wheel with force. When the chorus came, you smiled over at Bobby and turned the volume even higher. At a red stoplight, he lightly turned to you and you both screamed the lyrics at the top of your lungs.

A couple of minutes later, the car slowed down about a couple of houses down the street from the studio. The two of you got out and walked closer, trying hard to blend in. “I swear to god if Miss Lilith snitches on us again…”

“She’s on vacation I think.” Bobby interrupted your sentence about his nosy neighbour that always seemed to know when you should've been in school. Still, you didn't want to take any chances and ducked behind bushes before you were in the safe space in front of the studio.

“It’s quiet,” Bobby muttered to you, his ear pressed to the wood door. “What if they starved to death?” you whispered to him, now your ear pressed against the door as well.

“Or they’re still asleep?”

“It’s a bit late, even for them.”

“Maybe they went home?” you shot Bobby a troubled glance.

“Or we just went on a walk.” a voice suddenly said, behind you two, making you and Bobby clutch to each other with a scream.

“Jesus Christ! Guys do you want us to die?” you scolded the three grinning boys in front of you.

“I missed you guys too!” Reggie embraced you and Bobby in a bone-crushing hug, whilst the others walked back into the studio.

Luke plopped down on his couch, your school bag already in his hands. “What do we have in here?” he questioned out loud and rummaged through the food you brought with you. He took out a yoghurt and threw it into Alex’s direction who caught it with ease, then he threw Reggie an apple and a chocolate bar and for him, he took out half of the sandwich from your lunch. The other half he held out in your direction.

“Oh no thank you, Luke. I’m good.” you tried to wave it off “I brought it for you guys.” But his eyes only darkened slightly, his half of the sandwich poking out of his mouth and he waved the sandwich again so you took it with an eye roll.

Whenever you skipped school to hang out with them, the topic of school was forbidden. They knew that you and Bobby only wanted the best for them, a healthy home life, an education, a change other than music to move out and you knew that it was very hard to basically live on the streets and have missing signs all over the city or parents that always fight or won't accept you for who you really are. So the topic never came up and every time you told yourself that you would bring it up next time, that you had to discuss this and every time you didn't.

The group sat quietly in a circle, some on chairs and couches but most chose to sit on the ground. Your head rested on Alex’ stomach, his hands playing with your hair. Meanwhile, Bobby was half asleep on the couch, Reggie played random chords on his bass and Luke was rapidly writing down stuff in his notebook.

“Y/N?” Reggie's voice shattered the quiet and you were reminded that you were not chilling alone. Lifting your head you looked over at your friend “Yes Reg?”

“Uhm...could you maybe...uhm give me a haircut? I would need money for that and for money I would have to go home and that is something that I don't want to do especially after…” he rambled on. You quickly got up and crouched in front of him, your hands resting on his knees.

“I can try.” you chuckled “Last time I cut Lukes he didn't complain too much so let's try!” you patted his knee assuringly.

So you stood, a couple of minutes later, behind one of your best friends who was currently describing how he wanted his hair. He sat in a chair, an old plastic bag pulled over his head, his arms gesturing wildly how long what should be.

You, on the other hand, tried really hard to listen to his wishes while clutching a bottle with water and a, what you guessed was in fact not a haircut scissor, scissor in the other hand.

You shot Alex a look, silently asking him to memorize the steps as well. “Luke was definitely a simpler client,” you said under your breath but the others still heard.

“I’m sorry I care about my looks!” Reggie exclaimed and crossed his arms childishly. You leaned down to his ear and whispered “That’s why you're the cutest but don't tell the others okay?” that was all it took for him to sit up straight again, a big toothy smile plastered on his freckled face.

With a little frown on your face and the tip of your tongue slightly sticking out, you began to cut Reggie's hair. He wanted it longer on top, but the hair in the back of his head must be a bit shorter than his fringe, the sides had to be short but not so short that you could see his skull and he wanted a fade but not a big fade. The sounds of metal cutting hair filled the room.

“Guys listen to this bridge,” Luke spoke up, maybe a bit too loudly for the others' taste. Bobby grunted from his sleeping position, shot Luke the finger and went back to sleep.

“Luke! That scared me I could’ve cut Reggie's ear off!”

“But did you?” he remarked. As a joke you pulled on both of Reggie's ears lightly “Nope, they still seem pretty attached to his head.”

Luke showed you guys a song he called ‘Bright’ “It’s clearly not done and we still need the rest of the instruments but whatcha think?”

Alex patted Luke’s shoulder “I love it, man!”

“Sounds dope!”

“It’s good. I like it wery musch” you muttered with a comb in your mouth, focused on the boy with hair in front of you.

“And we’re done!” you announced and held your hands away as if you just participated in a bake-off. Reggie jumped up and ran into the small bathroom at the end of the studio. Nervously, you fiddled with the comb in your right hand.

“And? How bad did I mess up?” you asked him hopefully the moment he walked back out.

“You did such a great job!” he said, a grin taking over his face yet again. “Thank you so much.” he gave you a hug.

You both knew that it wasn't perfect, it was shaggy and crooked in some places and the fade was mostly one length instead of a gradient but it looked good, was cheap, added to his rockstar image and most importantly for Reggie, you did it.

“Y/N can you cut my hair too?”

[angst-fairygodmother]

Feelings an’ Shit Ep1: Fall (Misfits; Nathan Young x Reader)

A/N: I’m not going to follow the whole continuity of the show, and most things are going to be in between/canon divergent but there’s a handful of episodes I want to do stuff with, including the first, since it only makes sense. Word Count: 2185 Rating: T - canon-typical violence, canon-typical swearing

You watched as the curly-haired kid bounced around, taunting the other one and couldn’t resist a snort of amusement. He turned back to you, flashing you a dramatic wink and waggling his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes, nodding back to Hat Guy who was still foaming at the mouth for a fight. Curly continued to antagonize, playing it up for the attention, and eventually Hat Guy had enough and went after him. After that, things became a bit of a blur of shouts and the probation worker pulling them apart. You made eye-contact briefly with the girl who’d been on her cell phone and you both rolled your eyes, laughing. 

If only you’d known then that this moment was the last normal one you’d have. 

~

“So what about you?” the curly-haired kid, Nate or whatever it was, asked, turning his paintbrush on you. “What’d you do gorgeous?”

You liked the sound of his lilt. But he needed to learn to shut up if you were ever going to get along with him, and you wanted to, if only because you were all stuck here. 

You shrugged. “I think the official labels were disturbing the peace and intimidation. And maybe something about rioting which seems unfair. It was just a little bar brawl, and it definitely wasn’t my fault. Although I did glass that guy. So maybe it was.” 

You tried to keep your voice nonchalant, painting away at the bench across from the quiet one, without looking up to see how the others reacted. If you were being honest, the crime you got stuck with wasn’t even the worst thing you had done, just the one that got attention. But these people, with their minor infractions and their ‘I shouldn’t be here’ attitudes (or maybe it was just the one guy) didn’t need to know that. 

“What about you Weird Kid,” Curly continued, apparently choosing not to comment on your offense as he had the others. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like a panty sniffer.”

You grimaced, offering him a sympathetic roll of your eyes. “Ignore him, he’s a moron.” you mouthed across the bench. The boy offered you a faint smile in return. 

Curly continued his antics, trying to provoke your new friend who finally snapped, “I tried to burn someone’s house down.”

Your eyebrows shot up, impressed, as Curly whined uncomfortably, instantly backing off. You didn’t have time to comment on his own excuse for getting picked up, eating pick-n-mix, before the probation worker came back, annoyed with you all for Hat Guy’s paint spill. 

Then a massive hailstone crashed into a car, and you were too scared to worry about much else. Several more fell as you all stared up at the unnatural stormcloud moving overhead, and you all took off running for the relative shelter of the building, panicked and doing your best to shield your faces and heads from the shrapnel. Some instinct made you lag behind, bringing up the rear to make sure that everyone stayed together, no one got left behind. 

You were just coming up on the rest of the group, the probation worker unhelpfully taking the time to lecture them about their language, when there was a flash of light and you felt yourself get thrown backwards. 

You came back to your senses a moment later, sprawled on the concrete, entire body aching like the worst hangover you’d ever had, times ten. Smaller but still massive hail smashed on the ground around you as you and the others slowly sat up or climbed to your feet. 

The probation worker seemed to be having some sort of fit as you all discussed what had just happened and whether everyone was alright. 

“We just almost got killed by freak lightning and hail. Fuck what anybody says, I’m outta here,” you snapped, dusting yourself off with some attempt at dignity. 

“She’s right,” the probation worker groaned, making you turn to gape at him. “Maybe we should call it a day.”

~

The next day passed in a blur: finding Hat Guy dead, the probation worker going berserk and nearly killing you all, super powers? It was all too much. By the time you were all out digging holes under the overpass, you found the activity strangely calming. 

You tried not to think too hard about that fact, since apparently Kelly could hear you. You debated offering a (metaphorical) hand of friendship to Alisha, maybe suggest some self-defense classes to help counter her fucked up powers, but seeing the way she snapped at Curtis you decided against it, for now. Then you were startled out of your thoughts by Nathan draping an arm around your shoulders. 

“So it looks like just the two of us that haven’t figured out our powers yet,” he observed, leaning on you.

You side-stepped out of his grasp, causing him to stumble, nearly ending up in Tony’s grave with him, and hid your smirk behind your hand.

“What’s your point?” you asked, tired and irritated and not wanting to put up with his shit.

“Maybe we should spend some extra time together, figure it out.” He waggled his eyebrows, a behavior you were starting to notice was a habit of his. 

‘This arrogant sod,’ you thought. ‘He’s really got the nerve to be standing there, not doing any work, hitting on me, while we are burying bodies. Who the hell does he think he is?’ 

You were furious, the more you thought about it. 

Suddenly, a wave roiled up from the river, crashing over Nathan, knocking him to the ground in a sopping puddle.

“What the hell?” Alisha shrieked, jumping back from the splash zone.

“Y/N. I think you did that,” Kelly pointed out.

You stared, wide-eyed. “No way.” 

“Ya were gettin’ pissed at Nathan, I heard it. Then he gets dunked on.”

“No. That’s...that would be...not fair.”

“You think having some sort of water control power isn’t fair?” Alisha looked like she was going to start something and you backed away, trying not to cry or vomit from the fear. “It’s a million times better than my shit power.”

“No. You don’t understand…” you felt like your throat was closing up. “It would be...sick. A sick joke. The universe can’t have that kinda humor.” You looked wildly around at them, five pairs of eyes fixed on you, trying to breathe and not think.

“Let’s just finish burying the bodies,” you said shakily, “forget this ever happened, and get out of here, yeah?”

~

The next morning you dragged yourself up out of bed, forcing yourself to dress in some ratty jeans and a tank top, braiding your hair with trembling fingers as you got ready for day three of community service. Even if there wasn’t going to be a probation worker there, even if you just went and then left, you had to make everything look as normal as possible.

“So, if anyone asks,” you heard Nathan say softly as you, Alisha, and Kelly all passed the guys on their way out of the locker room and your way in to change. “It was just a completely normal day.”

“Actually…” you caught their attention, holding them back a moment. “The new probation worker’s in there right now, digging around the office. They’re going to ask us questions, and we need to have our stories straight.”

“What story?” he protested, a little too loudly, earning a glare from Kelly and Curtis. “We saw nothing, we did nothing.”

“They’re not going to buy it. We were the last people to see either of them, and now they’re missing with no sign of where they went.”

“So what do you suggest, if you’re the mastermind with all the answers?”

You glared at him, then licked your lips nervously. “Look, I’m not going to volunteer it outright, but if we have to, I’ll tell them it was me.”

“Wot?!” Kelly asked, staring at you like you had just sprouted a new head.

“It’ll suck but better one of us goes down than all of us. I’m the one it’s most believable from.”

“No! No way!” You were surprised that Alisha was fighting you on it, expecting her to be the first to throw you under a bus in order to get away from it herself.  “You’ll go to prison!”

“Or we all will. I’m just being practical. If we’re lucky, they think we don’t know shit and we all walk away. But if they start asking questions, real questions,” you set your jaw, steeling yourself for the story you were going to spin. “Tony and I got in a fight over the shit he said while we were takin’ shelter from the storm. I got pissed, and I hit him until he stopped moving. Made you help me move the body. Then Hat Guy, what’s his name, was gonna snitch so I killed him too.”

“I don’t like this,” Curtis cut in. Nathan nodded slowly in agreement, eyebrows furrowed and far more serious than you had seen him so far. 

“What happens to you if we do this?” Alisha asked.

“They slap me in cuffs,” you wiggled your eyebrows suggestively, trying and failing to cut the tension. “Drag me down to the station, ask me a bunch more shit. Then I go away for a long time for murder, or they don’t believe me and I’m back on Monday.”

“Even if they don’t believe her,” Simon offered hesitantly. “They’ll be less likely to look at the rest of us. She has no reason to cover for us. We’re practically strangers.”

“Exactly.” You snapped your fingers, pointing at Simon. “See, he gets it.”

“Why would ya take the fall for us?” Kelly asked. 

You considered her question for a while, not really sure of the answer yourself. Then you sighed and shrugged, shoving your hands in the pockets of your jeans.

“I’m real good at screwin’ up, and lucky I’m not already jailed for it. Least now I can use that fact for a good cause.”

~

Nathan watched as the girl walked over to her locker in the back, casual as can be as if she hadn’t just offered to go down for a double murder. He tried not to show on his face how impressed, or turned on, he was. 

He considered staying, trying to catch a glimpse of her and see if her body was as dangerous and sexy as her mind seemed to be. 

“Yer disgusting,” Kelly scoffed, glaring at him until he left behind the other guys.

~

The six of you stood in a line, uncomfortable and awkward as you faced your new probation worker. She introduced herself as Sally, and said she’d been sent to take over your supervision.

“Gary and my colleague, Tony, have both been reported missing,” she continued, staring at each of you in turn, as if a little eye contact could drive her point home. “Their families are really worried about them.”

You rolled your eyes, not believing for a second that either of those two assholes had anyone out there looking for them. You tried, slightly, to hide your boredom. 

“Did any of you see anything unusual? Anything at all?”

Everyone glanced at each other uncomfortably out of the corners of eyes, shifting weight from foot to foot. 

‘They’ve got nothing,’ you found yourself thinking with relief. ‘Everyone keeps their mouth shut and it might actually work.’

Suddenly Nathan raised a finger in the air, looking nervous and uncomfortable, one might even call it scared, and you swore under your breath. Were you really so wrong to trust them, him? Was he about to snitch? Of course an idiot like him couldn’t stick to a cover story. Your mind raced, debating if you should start running and try for a lead on the cops. 

“A few days ago, I go into the toilets, Tony and Gary are in there - they’re butt naked. Tony’s got Gary by his hair - like this. He’s doing him - doggie-style,” you gaped as Nathan carried on. 

“Or...we could go with that,” you muttered watching Nathan’s antics and rubbing your forehead to stave off the growing headache (a headache you suspected was going to be semi-permanent and named Nathan Young). 

“I ask you - in a world of prejudice and intolerance - who are we, who are we to condemn them?”

Sally scoffed, rolling her eyes and storming off to the office. 

“Who wants a smoke?” Kelly asked, nodding her head toward the stairs, and you all followed, headed for the roof. 

~

“What the fuck was that down there?” you shouted at Nathan, gesturing angrily.

“It was me, improvisin, actin. I think I did a pretty good job, don’t ye?” he grinned smugly at you.

“I think you’re an idiot, and almost ruined the whole thing. Now even if I do try to take the fall, at the very least, your goose is cooked too.”

“So don’t try. I think we got away with it.”

“D’you actually believe that?” Curtis asked, staring dumbfounded at Nathan. “Or are you just really dumb?”

[parker-bucky]

Falling

(Spencer Reid x female!reader)

Summary: Reader is sexually assaulted by her dance partner

Word count: 3.1 K

Warnings: sexual assault, lots of swearing, fighting, protective!spence, faint descriptions of blood and bruising

A/N: The song in this fic is Falling by Trevor Daniel, I suggest listening to the song during the performance part of the fic, I skip a lot of lyrics and the song moves kind of fast but I think you can better see the choreography if you know what the song sounds like !! I hope you guys like this one, the gif is not mine

Every day spencer sends you a text at lunch. It’s usually just a check in, maybe to give an update on the status of a case or to simply say I love you. Today’s message was no different.

Hey sweetheart, I was wondering if me and Morgan could pick you after work and go out to eat? Love you

You responded with a yes, adding a few too many exclamation points. You told him you might be running a bit late today because some of the dancers wanted you to show them the choreography of your upcoming performance. You opted to showing them how to do one of the moves, but wanted them to see the full dance on show day.

You chose to teach the younger dancers how to do the Grand Jeté, a movement where you jump from one foot to the other, suspending your legs into the air. In the distance, the doors to the studio open. You run forward and demonstrate the Jeté, landing swiftly onto the other side of the stage. “The more you stretch, the easier it will be.”

“y/n!” Janet- the building manager and head coach- signals for you to come over. You quickly tell the dancers to start stretching before jumping off the stage. “I wanted you and Noah to practice your dance today, do you mind having the young ones move to a different part of the studio? That way you can practice on the stage.”

“Yeah of course! Where is Noah?” Suddenly hands wrap around your waist and you jump up, startled. Noah laughs behind you, wrapping his arm around your chest. You push him away, uncomfortable.

“Oh come on baby, loosen up.” You glare at him before turning around. There, resting against the wall by the door, is Spencer. You run over to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He picks you up and spins you around, pecking kisses on your face. Morgan comes through the door, laughing.

“Alrighty lovebirds calm down, save it for the bedroom.” Noah trails behind you and watches from a distance, eyes scrunched together. Spencer sets you down and you lead them over to the stage, smiling.

“Hey guys, this is Noah.” Noah smiles and waves, reaching his hand out to give a handshake. Morgan obliques but Spencer does not, sending him a nod.

“It’s nice to meet you guys, I’m y/n’s dance partner.” Spencer smiles at you and you blush, his eyes sparkling. “Well, me and y/n have some work to do, so if you don’t mind we’ll be heading off.” You give him a look of annoyance.

“I’ll meet you after okay?” You lean up, giving Spencer a quick kiss. Noah grabs your wrist and drags you away from him, anger on his eyes. You give them a look of sympathy before following, yanking your wrist from his hand. Spencer and Morgan sit in the fourth row, excited to see you preform. You walk onto stage, signaling to Janet to start the music.

Spencer and Morgan wave to you from the audience and you smile, sending a small wave back. You position yourself on the front of the stage, Noah behind you. The music starts, the beat flowing through you.

My last made me feel like I would never try again

But when I saw you, I felt something I’ve never felt

You lie on your back, slowly rising to the beat of the music. You face away from the stage and towards Noah, his hands guiding your movements. You rise, jumping into your Jeté. He catches you on the way down, swinging you around his waist and holding you into the air.

Talk to me, I need to hear you need me like I need ya

As he holds you, his hand starts to push up your leg. He’s losing stability, he’s probably just fixing his grip. He goes higher, squeezing your thigh in his hand before letting you go, swinging you under his waist and into the air. You flip, landing steadily. What the hell-

Fall for me

You pretend to fall on the floor, landing on your back and pushing yourself back up with your feet. Noah stands on the other side of the stage, facing you. He smiles and winks at you, getting ready for the next jump.

Before you baby I was numb, drown out pain by pourin’ up

Speedin’ fast on the run

You run toward each other and jump, sending yourselves in to a twirl. Once you land, you run torwards him once more and he picks you up by the waist, spinning you around. He sets you down into a dip, attempting to look down your shirt. You send him a look of disgust, but he acts like nothing is wrong, continuing on with the routine.

Feel like I’m out of my mind, cause I can’t get enough

Only one that I give my time, cause I got eyes for ya

He lets you back up, holding his hand out for you to take. You step away for a moment before spinning back around, gliding around hid frame.

Noah moves his hands into a pushing motion, sending you to the front of the stage. You lay on your stomach and slowly rise onto your knees, waiting for the music’s signal.

My last made me feel like I would never try again

But when I saw you, I felt something I’ve never felt

Come closer, I’ll give you all my love

If you treat me right, baby, I’ll give you everything

Your shoulders move to the beat, pulsing backwards as Noah’s hands move like he’s pulling a rope, dragging you towards him. You rise once again, running towards him and jumping into the air. He catches you, spinning around and throwing your body back up. You flip and land on Noah’s hands, balancing yourself there. Your leg rises into the air, balancing on one foot.

Will never give my all again

Cause I’m sick of falling down

You fall forward, Noah catching you and tossing you back into the air. With one final toss you land in his arms, slowly putting your feet on the ground.

When I open up and give my trust

They find a way to break it down

You push one of your hands together and walk in a circle before moving into a waltz, wrapping your arms around his neck. As the song ends he moves you into a dip, the lights dimming. You faintly hear clapping from the other dancers and the audience. It’s completely dark now and Noah leans in, his breath on your neck. His hand trails up your waist and to your breasts, groping them.

You yelp, pushing him away and falling to the floor. The lights turn back on and you snap your head towards the audience. Gasping, you get up and run off the stage. Pushing past everyone you run into the locker room, slamming the door shut and locking it.

You rest your head the door and close your eyes, collecting yourself. “y/n?” Noah’s voice filters through the wall and you tense up, clenching your fists. You yank the door open and push him away but he grabs your wrist, pulling your towards him.

“Let go of me! What the fuck Noah, let me go-“ you fall to the ground, pushing him away from you. Scrambling, you run down the steps of the stage and out the door, not bothering to grab your things. Spencer and Morgan call out for you but you ignore them, trying to get away. You lean against the building and rest your head in your hands, trying to stop the tears from falling. He touched you. Why the fuck would he do that? Why-

“Y/n, what happened?” Spencer bolts out the door, putting his hands on your shoulders. Morgan leans against the building, concern written on his face.

I- he, well,” you take a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “We were dancing a-and at first I thought nothing of it, but then he followed me after the performance and grabbed me-“ Morgan’s head snapped up at you in surprise.

“He what?!” He pulls away to look at you but your gaze is cast down, embarrassed. “Baby tell me what happened.”

“Well first he was being kind of touchy I guess? All up in my space, then he grabbed my thigh when he was holding me but maybe he was just losing his grip, but then he looked down my shirt. A-and when the lights dimmed he touched me,” you continue to look at your shoes, swaying back and forth. “So pushed him away and I fell over on the stage. I-I didn’t know what to do so I went backstage and he followed me and he grabbed my wrist-” Spencer’s hands shoot to your wrists, looking them over. Small welts surround your left wrist and arm where he grabbed you and dug in his nails, stopping you from getting away.

“I couldn’t get away so I started to scream,” you glanced up at him, your eyes glistening with tears. “I um, he let go and I tripped, and I thought he was going to go down on me but I got up and I ran off.” Spencer’s eyes are filled with pure rage, his jaw clenched.

Morgan’s hand rests on your shoulder, squeezing it. He’s also angry, but he knows he needs to stay calm, collected. “Stay here with her.” Spencer let’s you go and storms into the studio, searching. You and Morgan run after him, knowing what’s to come.

“Hey you son of a bitch!” He runs up to Noah and grabs his shirt collar. “Don’t fucking touch her.” Spencer glares at Noah, his eyes burning holes through his skin.

“What are you talking about man? I didn’t do anything,” He acts genuinely confused but his shoulders are tense, fists clenched. Noah towers over him but Spencer is still far more intimidating, his gaze set to kill.

“Stop lying, I know what you did.” His face is right next to Noah’s now, his breath fanning over him. Noah pushes him away, standing his ground.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Everyone is staring now, unable to look away from the scene unfolding in front of them. Most of the dancers back away, giving them space. Morgan grips your shoulder, keeping you grounded.

“Just stay the hell away from her.” Spencer huffs, turning around go walk away.

“I didn’t do anything wrong, she wanted it. She liked it.” His head snaps back towards Noah, his rage building. Morgan runs over to hold Spencer back, stopping him from lunging.

“What the fuck did you just say?” He tries to push Morgan away, but his grip tightens around him. Noah laughs in delight, looking over and winking at you. You back away, trying to escape his gaze by looking at the floor.

“Oh, is little Spencie upset that his precious y/n wants to be with me instead of him? Face it, she likes me way more than you. I bet she would feel great around my-“ Spencer launches himself at Noah, tumbling to the ground, Spencer on top of him.

“You fucking piece of shit!” He punches him in the face, his nose gushing blood. Noah pushes Spencer over and slams his head into the ground, making you gasp. Spencer pushes Noah off of him and throws another punch, holding him down. “Don’t you ever fucking touch her again.”

“Let him go Reid!” Morgan runs over, grabbing Spencer’s arm and pulling him off of Noah. He yanks his arms away from Morgan and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head atop of yours. He takes a deep breath before looking back at Morgan and Noah, glaring.

You push him away, angry. “Why the hell did you do that! I can handle it myself.” He looks down at you, his whole demeanor changing.

Spencer takes another long breath and puts his hand on your back, guiding you out the door. You glance back to see Morgan talking to Janet, a concerned look on her face.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop myself.” You and Spencer climb into the back of the SUV, his arms wrapping around you. His embrace is strong and steady, grounding you to the present.

“Are you okay?” He takes your face into his hands, moving it to look at him. His eyes are filled with worry and your anger dissolves, suddenly feeling bad about the whole ordeal.

“I-I don’t know, can we just go home? I’m sorry I yelled at you, I was just upset.” Spencer nods, giving you a forehead kiss. Morgan opens the driver’s side door, leaning over to look at you.

“Are you okay y/n?” You nod, Spencer’s arm draping around your shoulder. “I reported what happened to one of the coaches, he shouldn’t see you again. I grabbed your things too.” Your eyes soften as you reach over to grab the duffle, putting your arms around him.

“Thank you.” You whisper into his ear. He rubs your back before releasing the embrace, turning around to start the engine.

“Can you take us home?” Spencer buckles his seat belt before putting his arm back around your shoulder. You lean into him, the seatbelt digging into your neck.

“Sure thing pretty boy.” He pulls out of the parking lot, Spencer holding you close. Soon you fall asleep, the stress taking over.

☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

Sun shines through the windows, casting a softy glow on Spencer’s apartment. You wake up on his sofa, curled up with your favorite blanket and his cardigan wrapped around you. Sitting up you rub your eyes, sleep begging to take you over once more.

“Hey baby,” Spencer sits down next next to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. His hands rub your back as you rest your head on his chest, your arms around his torso. “How are you doing?”

“m’ kay,” you mumble, closing your eyes. “Jus’ wanna sleep.” He lies down on his back, pulling you onto his chest. The sun shines right in your eyes so you turn away, facing the couch.

“We can cuddle for a bit but I made dinner, don’t want it to get cold, hmm?” You nod, closing your eyes and taking in his fresh vanilla scent. Eventually you get up, pushing off of the couch and sitting down at the table. He places a bowl of soup in front of you and you chow down, realizing you haven’t eaten since breakfast. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

You sit in silence for a moment, contemplating. “Yeah.” Suddenly, you’re not so hungry anymore. You set down your spoon and push the bowl away, attempting to keep the food you just ate down. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, wringing your hands together. Spencer gets up and walks over, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“Want to sit on the couch? We can cuddle,” you open your eyes and glance up at him before rising, taking his hand and pulling him to the couch. He sits down first and you climb on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms encircle you and you look at his face, admiring his features. There’s a little bit of stubble there, his golden brown eyes filled with worry.

“Well... I don’t know. I never thought Noah would do that, I trusted him.” His eyes soften. He grabs your left wrist, examining your scratch marks. He brings it up to his lips and kisses them, burning under his touch. “Ah,” Quickly he lets go, pulling away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you can tell he feels awful about it. You put your hand on his cheek and lean in, giving him a kiss.

“It’s okay baby, you didn’t know. They just burn,” you look down at the big welts around your wrist. “He just- grabbed me. I couldn’t get away, during the performance I couldn’t just leave, you know? What if something else had happened? I shouldn’t be complaining about what happened to me when so many other women have been through much worse.”

“Just because bad things have happened to people doesn’t mean that what happened to you doesn’t matter. It isn’t fair, and it should never happen to anyone. Your problems matter, and what happened to you matters. Yes, it could have been worse. But it doesn’t mean that it wasn’t bad, that you shouldn’t be talking about it. You need to speak up and be open about this, maybe he’s done it to other people too. You can stop him.”

A tear roles down your face and Spencer wipes it away. “I love you, you know that?” You look up at him and wipe your eyes, leaning up to give him a kiss.

“I love you too baby, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop him. Maybe I could have-“

“Spencer Walter Reid you look at me right now.” You grab his face in your hands, turning it towards you. His eyes look up from the floor, listening. “This isn’t your fault. There is nothing you could have done to stop this, you didn’t even know it was going to happen so don’t blame yourself. The only person to blame here is Noah.” Spencer nods, licking his lips.

“I know baby, it just feels so unfair.” He trails kisses along your forehead and cheek, his hands wrapping around your waist. He pulls you into him, holding you close. “And I’m sorry I took control like that. I know you can handle yourself just fine but I was angry and I’m sorry for stepping in when you didn’t want me to.” Your arms wrap back around his shoulders, head on his chest. You feel safe, comforted. There’s nothing else like Spencer’s hugs.

“No, I wanted you to be there. S’ not fair,” your eyelids start to droop, Spencer’s breath lulling you to sleep. “I love you.”

“I love you too baby.” He lays back down on the couch but this time he starts to fall asleep too, holding you closely in his embrace. You watch the sun set through the window before letting sleep take over, Spencer’s presence warm and grounding. His voice fills your ears as you drift off, whispering comforting thoughts into your ears.

I love you baby. I’ll never let you go. I’m not going anywhere, I’ll always be here.

It’s going to be okay.

Tag list:

@cielo1984 @thatsonezesty13 @addie5264 @gublergirls @scarletraine

[yaimlight]

Part 1 - Roses Are Red, Violets Are Blue

Raiting: older teen (swearing and mild sex references)

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x female reader / Todoroki Shoto x female reader / Bakugou Katsuki x female reader x Todoroki Shoto

A/N: part of the Twos Company series but can be read on own. Rest of series can be found on AO3 here.

Part 2

Part 3

———————————————————————

Katsuki glared at his locker like it had personally insulted him and considering what was on there it might as well have. Some obviously suicidal idiot had stuck a massive pink heart to it, the thing covered in red glitter and ‘be my Valentine’ scrawled across the middle of it. It was ugly looking, like a fucking child had done it and Katsuki didn’t want that shit anywhere near him. He was here to become a fucking hero not to be bothered by some doe eyed extra with misplaced feelings.

Growling he ripped it off the door and set of a loud explosion, turning the thing into ash in an angry display of his annoyance. He hoped whatever idiot had put it there was watching. “Not one for declarations of love then blondie?” came a teasing voice from behind and Katsuki snapped his head round to find Y/N smirking at him over her shoulder as she made her way past him and towards her own locker. Huffing he turned back to his locker, yanking it open and letting the door bang against the one next to it. “Fucking bullshit holiday” he growled angrily, stuffing his coat inside.

Y/N raised an amused eyebrow at him, the smirk on her lips annoyingly knowing as she shucked off her leather jacket and tucked it away. Katsuki wanted to kiss the stupid look right off of her. Shit. This had to stop. Things had just been getting worse since Christmas and he was sure he was one misstep away from making an idiot of himself. It didn’t help that he had to listen to his idiotic friends constantly teasing him about their not relationship. At least the half ‘n’ half bastard was in the same situation, though his friends weren’t being such dicks about it as far as he knew.

As if to prove his point Ashido’s annoying cheerful voice came from the row of lockers behind him, her words making Katsuki scowl even more. “He’s just grumpy because he has to deal with all the lower year girls following him around all day”. Katsuki slumped his shoulders and practically shoved his head into his locker as he made a rather loud show of sorting out the books he would need for the first part of the day. He could feel eyes on him and he knew it was Y/N, his skin always prickling in a certain way when she was looking at him. Fuck he could feel his face heating up, the blush forming quickly.

Shit. Why did they have to talk about this shit, especially with Y/N right fucking there? Wasn’t it bad enough that he had to spend the day putting up with all those shitty extras following him around, making fucking heart eyes at him and trying to give him overly sweet and disgusting chocolate? Now they had to bring Y/N into it, the only person he probably wouldn’t get angry with if she gave him chocolate today. He wasn’t stupid though, he knew that despite their rather close relationship that wasn’t going to happen.

She had had every opportunity that morning to hand over any sweets she might of intended for him but she hadn’t even made any mention of what day it was let alone given either him or Todoroki the impression she intended to gift them something. They had spent the whole morning together for fucks sake, the three of them waking up early in a tangled mess of limbs in his bed before heading to the gym for their usual work out, Katsuki making all three of them breakfast afterwards. The only time they had been away from each other had been when the three of them had gone to get dressed and that had only lasted about twenty minutes.

So yeah she had had more than enough time to give either of them something but she hadn’t, so there for they weren’t getting shit from the girl. Not that Katsuki was disappointed or anything. No. This was a stupid holiday anyway, a money grabbing scheme to get at people’s hard earned cash and they were just idiotic enough to fall for it. He didn’t need some bullshit day to force him into telling Y/N that he loved her. Not that he did. Nope. No way what so fucking ever. Fuck he was as bad as those shitty fucking extras that followed him around.

Growling, annoyed at himself more than anything now Katsuki slammed his locker shut, the whole row rattling with the force of it. He needed to get a grip and now. “God knows why” Sero mumbled as he walked past, Katsuki’s head snapping round to snarl at him as he went past. Y/N snorted at his comment, Katsuki watching an amused smile tug at the corner of her lips as she took a heart shaped lolly from her locker before finally closing it. Her cheeks had a slight flush to them from the still rather cold air outside but it was fading quickly. She looked beautiful with the slight rosy tint to her, her full lips curved up in an inviting smile. She looked good and Katsuki wanted nothing more than to stomp over to her side and kiss her breathless but he couldn’t and that just made him angrier.

Katsuki glared at Sero, snarling at his little dig but the idiot just rolled his eyes and carried on his way to class, dunce face trailing after him. “I don’t need that annoying fucking shit” he snapped as he stormed past, intended to get to class and ignore the rest of this pointless day. He didn’t need it, not from anyone and definitely not from Y/N.

He had just made it to the end of the lockers when he felt someone press up against his side, a head resting on his shoulder. He didn’t need to look to know who it was but he still let his eyes fall, finding Y/N smiling back at him. “All those poor young girls, hearts crushed under the heavy and uncaring boot of their crush. Truly tragic” she teased, pressing a hand over her heart and waving around her stupid heart shaped lollipop, looking up at him with fake disapproval.

“Shut up” he grumbled but there was no real anger behind his words. He shoved her away from him, Y/N laughing loudly at his annoyance. She looked truly happy in that moment, all smiles and bright eyes, her lolly back in her mouth. It was annoyingly infectious and he had to fight the urge to smile back at her, his brows furrowing as his frown deepened instead.

“Shoto-kun gets it just as bad, though he is a bit oblivious to it all”. Her attention snapped away from Katsuki at round cheeks words, her amused eyes going straight to the other boy. Katsuki hadn’t even realised the rest if his class was behind them, so caught up in having Y/Ns attention on him. The half ‘n’ half was stood between round cheeks and Deku, his face blank but his eyes fixed on Y/N, his stare intense and unwavering. It would probably have most people feeling uncomfortable but she didn’t seem to mind, smiling just as brightly at him as she had at Katsuki.

She walked backwards down the corridor, pulling the lolly from between her lips with a loud and wet pop. “Oh really?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him and that stupid smirk still on her lips. There was a knowing lilt to her voice but no one else seemed to pick up on it apart from Katsuki. He looked at her suspiciously but she ignored him, her eyes deliberately not making contact with his.

Uraraka nodded enthusiastically, almost seeming to float as she bounced over to Y/N who finally turned back around and slowed so she was walking next to Katsuki. Her hand brushed ever so slightly against his and Katsuki hastily shoved his hands in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to lace his fingers with hers. That was a couple’s thing and they were not a couple.

“Last year he agreed to six dates and didn’t even realise, caused quite the fight” Uraraka said matter-of-factly. “It wasn’t that bad” the candy cane said flatly from behind and Katsuki scoffed, turning his head to look at the other teen in disbelief. “They melted the gym and set fire to the running track” he growled out and the idiot just look back at him blankly. The whole thing had been funny right up till that point and then it had just pissed Katsuki off, especially when he had ended up being dragged into helping get the screaming girls under control. He would not be doing the same this year. The idiot could fix his own mistakes.

Y/N snorted, bitting down on her lip as she tried to keep from full out laughing, though she was doing a piss poor job of it. Katsuki could feel her shaking next to him so he could only assume Todoroki could see it to. The other teen huffed, his eyes narrowing at her obvious amusement. Grunting Katsuki turned his attention back to the corridor they were on. They weren’t that far from the class now and then he could get this shit over and done with and get on with his day.

Y/N spun on her feet, turning to face the other teen. “Well, we won’t be having any of that this year”. Her smile was wide as she popped the lollipop pack between her lips, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she looked up at Todoroki. Katsuki narrowed his eyes at her, instantly suspicious. She was up to something or had already done something and Katsuki was sure it would probably end badly for him somehow. He didn’t need this on top of how crap today was already going to be.

As they got nearer the door Katsuki felt his dread grow. His desk was going to be covered with shitty cards and boxes of chocolate, all of witch he would chuck in the bin. The candy canes could join his and then he could make himself useful and set the whole thing on fucking fire.

He fell back slightly, Y/N following suit and as was now expected so did Todoroki, the other teen looking at him blankly. The rest of the class continued past them, chatting away loudly and seemingly completely ignoring the three of them. Everyone had all paired off, those who were dating sticking to each other and making fucking heart eyes at one another. It was annoying and sickening and Katsuki hatted how fucking jealous he felt that they got to be able to do all that shitty couple stuff whilst he was in some sort or weird love triangle limbo with Y/N and the shitty candy cane.

“You okay?” she asked, coming to stand next to him and placing a hand on his bicep. He could feel her through his uniform, her hand hot like a brand and he was surprised that his blazer wasn’t smoking from the heat of it. “I’m fine” he grumbled but he didn’t shrug her off of him. Shit it was just like with Todoroki and his left side, the heat feeling really fucking good and he hated that he liked the other boys touch, his fucking warmth. She smirked up at him, that stupid knowing glint back in her eyes and her hand squeezed gently. “So, can I read your love confessions?”

Katsuki stared down at her, unsure what to actually say to the girl and her fucking weird request. “Why?” asked suspiciously. She shrugged, popping the lolly back into her mouth as she finally let go of him and stepped back slightly. He missed the heat instantly. “Curious what the companions like” she mumbled around the sweet, her eyes flicking over Katsuki to Todoroki then back again. Katsuki just stared at her, eyes wide and mouth open slightly in his shook. He had heard that correctly right? He hadn’t fucking imagined Y/N explicitly voicing her interest in dating Katsuki? Fuck. Shit. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Ignoring the freak out Katsuki was having Y/N stepped up to the shitty candy canes side, looping her arm through his and tipping her head back to look up at the other teen as she pressed against him. “You’ll let me look at yours, wont you Shoto?” she asked, looking up at him sweetly and fluttering her eyelashes at him. The idiot had gone stiff, looking down at her with wide eyes and a slight look of panic about him. “Yes” he said flatly and Katsuki was convinced that he hadn’t actually heard what she had said, too distracted by the fact she was touching him.

You would think he would have gotten used to it after all these months but he would freak out about it at the oddest times, like he hadn’t really noticed the touching and cuddling before that moment or, if Katsuki was to be more to the point, the half ‘n’ half bastard freaked out when things were a little more on the flirty side. Like now for instance as Y/N pressed her chest against his arm and obscenely pulled the lolly out from between her lips, never braking eye contact with the shitty candy cane. In any other circumstances Katsuki would probably be jealous of the attention Todoroki was getting but he was still stuck on what Y/N had said about her competition for him.

“Come on, we better get to class before Aizawa wakes up”. Y/N stepped back her hand sliding down Todoroki’s and lacing her fingers through his, tugging the other teen forward. He went willingly, his eyes still wide and face flushed such a deep red it almost matched his hair. “Well? You coming blondie?” she called over her shoulder, her smile so fucking bright that Katsuki thought he would go blind.

Grunting Katsuki started after them, glaring down at his feet so he didn’t have to see the two of them holding hands. They disappeared through the door before him, the loud chatter of the class spilling out into the corridor, Y/Ns excited voice getting lost in it. He could hear the idiots getting excited about whatever gifts had been left on their desks and their respective partners expressing their annoyance at them getting things from others. As he stood there that feeling of dread and annoyance bubbled up again except this time there was something else there as well. Excitement? Maybe anticipation? He wanted to see what Y/Ns reaction would be to all the shitty love confessions, wanted to know if she would get jealous of others being interested in him.

A thought struck Katsuki then, one that would probably end badly but he might as well give it a shot. What if he could use these stupid and pathetic love confessions to his advantage? If he could make Y/N jealous enough would she finally make a move? They were her competition after all and maybe if she saw Katsuki showing interest in someone else she might actually stop fucking around with him and the shitty candy cane and actually pick one of them. Preferably him over the half ‘n’ half bastard.

Decided what he was now going to do Katsuki strode into the classroom, head head high and smirking. He didn’t pay anyone any attention, going straight to his desk and the stack of pink and red envelopes he knew would be waiting for him only to come to a stop next to his desk. There were no gaudy envelops, no heart shaped boxes and no excessive amounts of glitter. No all that sat on his desk was a small black box with a red ribbon slipped around it and tied into a bow. Katsuki just stood there in disbelief, staring down at the box like it was about to blow up. Where the hell were they all? There was supposed to be fucking tones of them, not just one measly little fucking box. What the fuck was going on?

He felt Y/N come up beside him, knew it was her from the faint smell of vanilla and the obscene wet sucking noise as she pulled the lollipop out from between her lips. “Huh, seems you’re not as popular as you think”. She smirked up at him, looking far to amused as she popped the lolly back into her mouth, making a show of dragging her tongue across it before sealing her lips around the stick. The action snapped him out of his stupor and Katsuki glared down at her. “Good. Don’t need any of that fucking shit” he growled out, pushing past her and kicking his seat out before dropping down in to it.

Well there went that plan. It had been a stupid one any way. She wouldn’t get jealous over other girls liking him, why would she? Everyone fucking knew he didn’t give a shit about any of that shit, well apart from with Y/N at least. “Aww dude, just one this year?” shitty hair said as he came to stand next to his desk, looking down at the box that still sat untouched and looking at Katsuki as if he was going to start crying about it. Before Katsuki could tell the other teen where to shove it Y/N was talking, chiding the other teen. “Don’t tease. He’s really heartbroken no one else likes his grumpy ass”. She leant forward to playfully slap at Eijiro’s arm before going back to lean against Jiro’s desk, her legs crossed at the ankles and the hand that wasn’t holding that stupid fucking lolly curled around the edge of the desk.

Katsuki glared at her, slumping further in his chair. “No I’m not” he growled out. She just smirked at him, sucking on that fucking lolly and making Katsuki feel hot again. “Aww don’t feel too bad, Todoroki only got one as well” Denki smacked him on the back as he spoke. “I got six this year though the only one that matters is the one my lovely Kyoka gave me…hey!” Katsuki shoved Denki out the way, completely ignoring his indignant cry as he craned his head round to get a look at the candy cane.

He was sat at his desk, Deku and round cheeks stood on either side of him, his brows furrowed in what Katsuki thought was probably confusion as he stared down at an identical black box that sat on top of his desk. “Oh! There the same” Dunce face said loudly and the candy canes gaze snapped up, his mismatched eyes locking with Katsuki’s. They stared at each other for a long few seconds before Katsuki grunted and turned back round to look at his own box once more.

The idiot’s loud declaration seemed to get the whole classes attention, everyone looking between him and the candy cane and the stupid boxes. “Ohh and they look expensive” Ashido came up behind Eijiro, leaning round him and making to grab for the box. Katsuki slapped her hand away as he curled the other around the box and pulled it towards him. “Keep your grubby hands off” Katsuki grumbled, glaring at all his friends as they seemed to huddle closer.

“They are from Le Chocolat De H” Katsuki could just about hear ponytails mater-of-fact words over the annoying babble of his idiot friends talking, the statement followed by a low whistle but fuck if he knew where it came from. “Is that good?” Ashido asked, finally moving back so she could look at Momo. Thankfully the other idiots seemed to go quite, moving away from him enough so that Katsuki was able to see the other girl as well. She leant over from her desk, looking down at Todoroki’s box like she was looking at a piece of evidence in a case. “Yes. There one of the best in Tokyo. It’s where I got Iida’s from”.

“Oh, so they are expensive then?” Katsuki grunted, turning back round in his seat. Dunce face was right. If Momo had gone there to get chocolates for glasses then they were most likely high quality and the price would reflect it. Who the hell would spend that sort of money on him? Not just him but on the half ‘n’ half bastard as well. He had only gotten something this expensive looking once before and that had been the book Y/N had gifted him at Christmas. It seemed like something she would do, spending ridicules amounts of money on something so fucking pointless and insignificant just to make a point.

Frowning he turned his head slightly to look at Y/N. She was still leant against Jiro’s desk, the lolly in her mouth again but her attention was on her phone, her head tilted forward as she tapped across the screen. She wasn’t looking at him or Todoroki and she defiantly didn’t look interested in the conversation going on around her.

Feeling stupid for even hopping that she would have been the one to get them Katsuki turned his attention back to his box. It was glossy, the tear drop logo and name of the company embossed in the bottom right corner. Every other year it had been tacky pink heart shaped boxes filled with ugly and overly sweet chocolates, things that had made Katsuki feel sick just looking at them. But this was high quality, fancy shit so they shouldn’t be like that should they? Fuck he should just dump the whole thing in the bin and get on with his day. Just forget about all of it and try and act like its any normal day.

He glanced over at Y/N again only this time she was looking back. Her head was still tipped forward as if she was looking at the phone in her hands except her eyes were locked on him, a knowing smirk on her lips. She raised an eyebrow at him, the stick of her lolly moving from one side of her mouth to the other. Her eyes seemed to spark with challenge, as if she was daring him to not look at what was inside. He knew then that even though she had seemed to not be paying attention she probably knew more of what was going on in the room than he did.

Before Katsuki really knew he was doing it he was tugging at the ribbon, pulling it free in one quick movement. He wasn’t really paying attention to the rest of the class anymore, focused instead on his task. He dumped the ribbon on the desk and in one quick movement yanked the lid off. The smell of chocolate wafted up from inside the box, along with something sweet and distinctly spicy. He dropped the lid next to the box and looked down at the six small chocolates that sat nestled inside. They were all the same, shiny black domes with flecks of green and orange across them as if they had been flicked with paint. His colours. They were done in his hero colours, either picked out because of that fact or decorated to those specifics.

“Ohhh they look fancy” Ashido said, her pink hand sneaking into his field of vision as she went for one of the confections. Katsuki slapped her hand away again, glaring at her as he snarled out his words. “I already told you to leave off”. He didn’t know why he was being so selfish. Normally he would let the idiots at it, practically chucking the boxes at them but not this one. He knew he was being stupid but some part of him was still hoping that they were from Y/N and if there was even the slightest chance that they were he wasn’t sharing them with no one. She frowned down at him, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting but Katsuki just glared back. He was not above licking every single fucking one of those chocolates if it meant she would stop trying to take one.

“Hey! Todoroki’s are different”. Katsuki’s head snapped round, finding Denki leant over the candy canes desk as he looked down at the other teens open box. Todoroki held it with both hands, the box pulled close to him and almost cradling it protectively as he looked up at the idiot with suspicion and distrust. From here he couldn’t see what the other boy’s chocolates looked like and that just wasn’t acceptable.

Katsuki was up and out of his seat before he knew it, box held firmly in one hand as he stormed up the isle to Todoroki’s desk. He shoved Denki out the way, slamming his own box down on the half ‘n’ half’s desk. “Show me” he growled out, glaring down at the other boy. He tilted his head back so he could look up at Katsuki, his look smoothing out into his normal expressionlessness. His hair had fallen slightly into his eyes, the red and white strands looking soft and not for the first time Katsuki thought about running his hands through it and tucking the strands behind his ears. The blonde quickly squashed the feeling down, sneering at the other boy.

They stared at each other for a second, the class seeming to have gone quiet but finally the other boy sighed, his ridged posture easing as he let his death grip ease and slid the box towards him on the desk. Katsuki looked down at the black box and the six identical chocolates inside. Unlike his they were white with red and blue swirls on top, the brush strokes evident in the chocolate. They were just as shinny as Katsuki’s were, the light gleaming off of the chocolate but unlike Katsuki’s they smelt like mint and sort of earthy.

Katsuki didn’t know what to do now, just staring down at the two boxes next to each other. He didn’t know what he had expected to get out of seeing what the candy canes looked like. Maybe a hint of who their admire might be at least but he wasn’t so lucky. “I wonder who left them” Uraraka wondered, leaning over Todoroki to look at the boxes. “How the hell should I know” Katsuki grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her. She rolled her eyes at him, huffing slightly and Katsuki bristled.

He was just about to tell her where she could shove it when Y/N spoke, her voice ringing clear across the classroom “clearly it’s the same person”. All eyes turned to her and she wasn’t even looking at them, still tapping away on her fucking phone. Katsuki narrowed his eyes at her, anger and jealousy rearing their ugly heads. Who the hell was she talking to? The only people she normally spent any time with were all in this room apart from the zombie freak. That thought had his stomach turning, that today of all days she would be so focused on the other boy instead of him, instead of Todoroki.

What if he had read this all wrong? What if she had given someone chocolates but it had been Shinso fucking Hitoshi instead? Oh god he felt sick and angry, like the fucking walls were closing in around him. Was that why she didn’t seem to care? She had made her choice and it was that fucker? But nothing had seemed to change. They had still woken up together, tangled around one another. Had still spent almost every fucking second together that day. Y/N had still flirted like she couldn’t function without it. Nothing had seemed to change but what if everything was about to?

“What?” she mumbled around her lolly, finally looking up from her phone and taking in all the eyes on her. Sighing she put her phone back in her pocket and pulled the lolly from between her lips. “No way is it a coincidence that you both got chocolates from the same place. They probably got them at the same time,” she waved the lolly between him and Todoroki as she spoke, pushing away from the desk she had been leaning against and walking towards them slowly. She stopped in front of them, leaning back against Tokoyami’s desk and crossing her arms over her chest, a wide smirk on her lips. “Seems you two have the same admirer. Wonder who it could be,” she teased, a knowing glint in her eyes.

Katsuki was about to ask her what the hell she knew but Aizawa chose that moment to sit up, his yellow sleeping bag falling to the floor as he squirmed out of it. “Enough of this rubbish. Everyone in there seats. Now,” he grumbled, stepping out of the sleeping bag and kicking it aside. Everyone move, quickly trying to get to there seats but Katsuki just stood there, watching as Y/N moved so bird boy could sit down. She leant forward, delicate fingers quickly plucking one of each of the chocolates out of the box. She winked at Shoto as she popped the white chocolate into her mouth, moaning softly as she munched on it. Katsuki could feel the candy cane going stiff in his seat the air getting warmer and he hoped that the idiot didn’t burst into flames again. “Matcha and mint, it’s good,” she mumbled, hand held over her mouth as she finished eating. “Yeah,” the idiot whispered, probably not even having heard what she had said.

Laughing she stepped to the side, starting to make her way to her desk but she stopped next to Katsuki, standing way to close to be casual. She was practically pressed up against his side and back and despite all the layers of clothes, Katsuki could still feel her chest pressing against him. He could see out the corner of his eye as she pushed one of his chocolates into her mouth, her lips right next to his ear so he could hear the quiet and sinful moan along with the chocolate cracking as she bit down. “Tastes like you. Caramel and spice,” she whispered, her breath surprisingly cool against his rapidly heating skin. He swallowed nervously, mouth moving but no sound coming out. Her laughter was gentle as she stepped back, her cool fingers dragging along his back as she continued on her way to her desk. Katsuki just stood there like an idiot, still looking down at Todoroki whose face was a bright red.

“Bakugou sit!” Aizawa’s voice rang loud and clear across the classroom and Katsuki snapped his head round to look at his teacher and the rest of the class, finding everyone else already sat down. Feeling himself blush Katsuki quickly grabbed his box of chocolates and stormed back to his seat, looking back behind him briefly at Y/N before dropping down into his seat. She had winked at him, elbows resting on her desk and smile wide and teasing as she slipped that god damned lollypop back into her mouth, her tongue just peeking out to lick at it.

Clenching his jaw, Katsuki made quick work of putting the lid back on the chocolates and shoving the box onto the little shelf under his desk and instead grabbing out his work books. Aizawa began to drone on about what they would be doing that day, how their revisions for their final exams would go and Katsuki tried to listen but every now and then his mind would wonder to the little box under his desk and who had sent it.

The way Y/N had acted had been weird and knowing with a hint of teasing and Katsuki would swear that she had been the one to leave the boxes for him and the candy cane but when? And why would she not tell them? There hadn’t been time for her to come to class this morning and the three of them had been together since leaving class yesterday. Again the only time they split was to get ready for bed, the other two turning up at Katsuki’s door to watch a movie just as he had pulled his sleep pants up. No there had been no time for her to do it and she hadn’t been nowhere near that shitty teleporting first year in the last week to be using his quirk to get around without anyone noticing.

Resting his chin on his palm Katsuki glanced out the window, letting Aizawa’s words wash over him. He felt like he was being played with, goaded into doing something and he didn’t understand why. The thought stayed with him throughout the day as he took notes and reread pages he already knew, all the way to break as the useless idiots he called friends surrounded him, the subject of his and the candy canes admirer still a hot topic.

“No way. She would not be that brave,” Sero chimed in from Katsuki’s side, having slipped into Deku’s vacant seat when he had gone to sit with Todoroki. Katsuki had twisted in his chair, leant back against the wall with one arm flung over the back of his chair and the other resting on his desk. He had one leg up, foot resting on the edge of his seat. Glasses had yelled at him about it but after Katsuki had very politely told him to fuck off ponytail had dragged her angry and spluttering boyfriend away.

“It’s a possibility but I think Sero’s right,” Y/N added, her hand shifting and fingers just brushing against Katsuki’s arm. She had come over just after Denki and Sero had started hounding him about who had sent the chocolates, the girl acting as a buffer so Katsuki didn’t kill his friends when they didn’t shut up. She hadn’t even hesitated to push up onto his desk, her hands splayed out behind her and legs swinging gently. She had lost her blazer at some point, her tie pulled lose and the top button of her shirt open. She looked relaxed, talking about the possible girls who would be interested in both him and Todoroki with a smug sort of amusement. The whole conversation was driving him crazy and the only saving grace was that he could half tune them out whilst he tried to figure out what Y/N was up to.

Katsuki was watching the shitty candy cane, the mismatched teen having moved from his desk to go stand next to round cheeks, Deku stood next to him as the three of them chatted though it was mostly the other two, the half ‘n’ half frowning slightly as he listened to them. Katsuki wondered if he was having to listen to his lot of idiots speculate about who had sent the chocolates as well. Was he actually considering any of the names thrown out or did he think the same as Katsuki, that Y/N had been the one to leave them behind? He had been watching her just as intensely as Katsuki had been watching him so maybe he was trying to figure it all out as well, though if Katsuki couldn’t work it out he highly doubted that oblivious idiot could.

“What if it’s a guy?” Denki said like he had just discovered something truly amazing. Silence hung between them and Katsuki finally dragged his eyes away from Todoroki to look at his friends. Denki was smiling brightly whilst Kirishima and Sero looked at him with a mix of shook and awe, like it was the most obvious thing and they couldn’t believe they hadn’t thought of it. “Shut the fuck up dunce face,” Katsuki growled out, narrowing his eyes at them. Katsuki didn’t have an issue with that kind of thing. He didn’t give a shit if you were into guys, girls or fucking trees. What he had the issue with was that this conversation had gone on far to fucking long for his liking and it needed to stop.

Y/N bit her lip, body shaking as she tried not to laugh, her smile still wide and eyes gleaming with amusement. “You can shut up as well,” he grumbled, hitting the back of his hand against her thigh with a satisfying smack. “Owe” she whined, turning to pout at him as she rubbed at the spot he had hit. “As if that hurt,” he scoffed. She pouted, arms shifting to take more of her weight as she leant in closer. Katsuki froze, eyes going wide the closer she got. She smirked, her face right in front of his, eyes watching him as he began to panic. “You could always kiss it better,” she purred, moving her leg so her thigh brushed against his hand.

Katsuki stuttered, his cheeks going red and his hand heating against her. Kiss her, that’s what she had said but not just her, her thigh. That was, something else. Katsuki had had dreams that started like this, her draped across his desk and skirt ridden up. His hand crackled and popped, his moth flapping as he tried to find the right words but nothing came. Chuckling gently she pulled back, “maybe later hum?” she teased, winking as she sat back round and all Katsuki could do was stare at her dumbly. Kiss. Kiss her. She wanted Katsuki to kiss her. She had never said anything like that to him before, not to Todoroki either as far as he knew. Now the words had been spoken he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to get them out of his head all fucking day.

“At least we know how to shut him up now,” Denki mumbled and Katsuki snapped his mouth shut, head jerking to the side to glare at the other teen at the sudden reminder that he and Y/N were not alone. He leant forward, hand outstretched and crackling with his quirk. “You wanna say that again dunce face and I’ll show you how I’d shut you up,” he growled out. The idiot’s eyes widened, taking a step back and laugh nervously, half tugging Kirishima in front of him for protection. “Lighten up Baku, it was just a joke,” Sero mumbled. “You’re a fucking joke,” Katsuki snapped, leaning back into his chair again and glaring at the other teen. Fucking Y/N and her constant teasing. This was all her fault.

It was then that Katsuki realised Y/N had gone strangely still, her legs no longer swinging and her body going tense. Frowning Katsuki tipped his head back to look at her. She was frowning, eyes narrowed as she stared out across the classroom, her whole body tense and he could see her jaw clenching. She looked pissed, ready to punch someone and when Katsuki turned his head he found out why. Some shitty extra was hovering in the door way, her stupidly big doll like eyes fixed on the candy cane and a heart shaped box clutches to her chest. Katsuki didn’t recognise her but she definitely looked young so he would guess she was a first year. Damn she was either brave or fucking stupid if she was coming to give a third year a shitty Valentine.

She nibbled at her lip, her eyes darting to the floor. The girl sucked in a deep breath and Katsuki could practically see her giving herself a pep talk, her shoulders setting as she looked up with determination, head held high as she stalked purposely towards the half ‘n’ half bastard. Katsuki’s scowl deepened, a strange mix of annoyance and anger filling him as she came to a stop in front of the other teen and he turned away from Deku to look at her in confusion. What the fuck did this shitty little extra think she was doing?

“Todoroki-senpai, please accept these as a representation of my feeling,” she blurted out, thrusting the box of chocolates out towards the candy cane with both hands as she bowed deeply. The whole room had gone quiet, everyone still in the class watching the exchange and waiting to see what he would do. The idiot reached out slowly, a frown pulling his brow down as he took the box from the girl. “Thank you,” he said flatly, mismatched eyes darting down to the obnoxious looking box now in his hands. Katsuki growled lowly, a spike of something dark clawing its way out of his chest. The hell was that shitty bastard think he was doing, accepting shit off other girls when he was supposed to be head over fucking heels for the one currently sat next to Katsuki?

Movement from the corner of his eyes had Katsuki jerking his head to the side just in time to see Y/N pushing herself off his desk, her feet almost soundless as they hit the floor. “Hey are you…” Denki started to say but was cut off by Y/Ns hand slapping against his cheek, his eyes going wide as she dragged her hand across his face as she moved. Her face was cold, eyes dark and fixed on the girl as she silently stalked down the rows of desks towards Todoroki. It reminded Katsuki of one of those big ass cats, stalking it prey, silent and unnoticed till it was too late and it pounced. Katsuki probably shouldn’t find that as hot as he did but he found almost everything about Y/N strangely appealing.

The stupid extra looked up, huge eyes fixed on Todoroki and seemingly not seeing anything else around her. She smiled up at him widely, hands clasped in front of her and battering her lashes at the oblivious idiot. Katsuki though she looked fucking stupid, the amount she was blinking making it look like she had a fucking twitchy eyes or something. “I would also like to know if you would like to have lunch with me tomorrow senpai?” she asked nervously, bitting at her lip and pulling her knees together, one leg slightly bent as she pressed the toes of one foot into the floor. She was blushing, head tipped down slightly and looking up at the taller boy through her lashes. It looked fucking childish and pathetic and Katsuki found it hard to believe that there were idiots out there who liked that pathetic shit.

“Oh shit” Sero mumbled as Y/N came up behind Todoroki, Deku and round cheeks eyes darting towards her worriedly. The whole room felt tense, like every one was waiting for an attack. Katsuki sucked in a breath, leaning forward in his chair slightly to get a better view. He had no clue what she was about to do but he had a sinking feeling that it was probably going to be bad and end up getting not only herself in trouble but him and Todoroki as well because there was no way in hell that neither or the candy cane would jump to her aid.

Todoroki’s frown depended, his head tipping to the side slightly, his moth opening to say what better fucking be a rejection but the mismatched teen didn’t get a chance, Y/N leaping into action before anyone could stop her. “Shoto, there you are,” she beamed, looping her arm through his and pressing in tight against his side. The candy canes mouth snapped shut instantly, his eyes widening slightly as he turned to look down at Y/N who was smiling sweetly up at him. “Yes,” he said flatly and Katsuki would of scoffed if he wasn’t so busy scowling at how fucking clingy Y/N was being.

“Um Todoroki-senpai,” the stupid extra faltered, her big eyes darting uncertainly between the shitty candy cane and Y/N. It was the wrong thing to do because Y/Ns dark eyes snapped to her, her gaze dark and menacing despite the cheery smile and friendly tone. “Oh! Hello I didn’t notice you there. I’m Y/N” she stuck out her hand, offering it to the girl who looked down at it with a mix of nerves and fear. Katsuki didn’t blame her, rumours had spread across the school like wild fire about Y/Ns quirk and any self respecting person would be cautious about touching someone who could steal your quirk with just a touch. To her credit the girl took it, licking at her lips nervously. Maybe she was brave and stupid.

“I’m aaaah!” the girl cried out, yanking her hand back and shaking it, her eyes wide and panicked as she looked up at Y/N who was still smiling though it seemed a little darker now. The girl took a slight step back as she rubbed at her hand that Y/N had just sent a sizeable shock through if the obvious electric crackling around her hand was anything to go by. Katsuki’s frown deepened and he was vaguely aware of Sero and Denki mumbling about the whole thing but he was to focused on the scene before him, body tensing in case he had to jump in and stop a full on fight and over the shitty candy cane of all people.

“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Y/N rushed out, not giving the younger girl time to say anything about her blatant attack or making any effort to apologise. “Actually I was…” the girl started hesitantly but Y/N just battled one, completely ignoring the girls words and Katsuki almost felt sorry for her, almost but not quite. “Oh are these from you? How quaint,” she plucked the heart shaped box from Todoroki’s hands, the teen letting them go easily. He hadn’t once looked away from Y/N, his eyes still wide and apparently transfixed by her, completely unaware of what was actually happening.

Without looking away from the girl Y/N dropped the box of chocolates onto round cheeks desk, the box hitting the wood with a loud thump. The girl’s eyes widened slightly before narrowing in anger. Her hands clenched into fists at her side. It seemed Y/N had finally pushed the girl too far. She didn’t seem to care or notice though, leaning into Todoroki’s side even more and her smile curling into a wicked smirk. She resisted her head on his shoulder, the arm that was looped through his slipping down so she could lace their fingers together and placing her free hand over the middle of his chest. It was a possessive gesture and Katsuki felt a small thrum of jealousy at how possessive she was being with the other boy.

“So sorry but Shoto promised to help me go over some notes before our next class so I’m going to have to steal him away. You should head back to your class though, children aren’t supposed to go wondering off with out adult supervision,” Y/N taunted cheerfully, her words dripping with false politeness and the girls mouth flapped like a fish gasping for air, shock and outrage clear in her large eyes. Y/N ignored her, turning on her heels and pulling Shoto along behind her and the idiot went willingly, letting her drag him back to his desk and practically shove him down into his chair.

Y/N pushed herself up onto his desk, sitting the same way she had been on Katsuki’s just moments ago. She smiled smugly at the girl still stood by Uraraka’s desk, clearly feeling good about her triumph. She glared at Y/N, eyes dark and full of rage and to Katsuki’s surprise she winked back, her smile wide and teasing. The girl huffed out angrily before turning and storming from the room, a commotion outside from what must have been the girl’s friends that had been waiting for her.

The whole room stayed silent, all eyes fixed on Y/N who was still smirking, resting back on her hands and swinging her legs gently. Behind her Katsuki could just make out the candy cane, his mismatched eyes still wide and a slight flush on his cheeks. Katsuki would say he might be shell shocked from Y/Ns suddenly territorial behaviour over him but honestly Katsuki wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t even realise that was actually what had been going on. The boy was shit when it came to that sort of stuff so he probably just thought that she had wanted his attention.

“Holy shit that was brutal” Denki whispered, sounding both amazed and a little horrified and Katsuki had to agree with the statement. Y/N had been rude if not a little cruel to the girl, making it obvious that Todoroki was not available for the taking. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, jealousy rearing its ugly head at the fact that she had been so blatantly obvious with the shitty candy cane.

She clung to both of them, was always touching and welcoming their touch in return. She flirted with them as easily as she breathed, had since the first time they had spoken to her respectively. Katsuki knew she was interested in something with either him or Todoroki but this was the first time he had seen her stake a claim on one of them so openly and in such a way that her jealousy and possessiveness was clear. It left him feeling deflated, passed over even.

Still sat on Todoroki’s desk Y/N leant forward, whispering something in his ear that had him blushing but nodding. Katsuki watched as she slipped off the desk, the other teen pushing his char back slightly and then she was sinking onto his lap, Todoroki wrapping an arm around her waist whilst looking over her shoulder, his expression blank but cheeks a bright red. She leant forward slightly, pulling a text book out from under the desk along with the box of chocolates.

Everyone was still watching them, the whole fucking class watching the sickly sweet moment that Y/N opened that stupid box, plucking one of the chocolates out and holding it out to Todoroki, turning in his lap slightly so she could smile softly at him. Katsuki’s nails dug into the desk, his jaw clenching as he watched the bastard lean forward, eyes locked on hers as he opened his mouth expectantly and she placed it gently on his tongue, fingers ever so slightly brushing against his lips before he closed them and started to chew.

It wasn’t the first, third or even fifth time that Y/N had hand fed one of them but it was normally in private when it was just the three of them but here she was, blatantly flaunting the level of intimacy she had with the half ‘n’ half bastard for all to see. To anyone who didn’t know they would be the picture perfect couple and Katsuki hated how good they looked together, how much he could see the two of them being that sickly sweet and fucking annoyingly affectionate couple that made Katsuki wasn’t to gag. They looked good together, the two of them, without him.

Maybe it was because for almost a year it had been the three of them together that left him feeling left out and shunned suddenly. Katsuki and the candy cane had even become fucking friends now because of how much time they spent together, because of their shared feelings for Y/N and even though Todoroki was his rival for her affections there was still the strange feeling of comradery with the other teen. They worked well together both on and off the field but now it suddenly felt very much like Katsuki or Todoroki and by the way Y/N was being so cosy with the other teen it left Katsuki feeling that she had made a decision at some point and he was left wanting.

The action seemed to spur people to look away, the class breaking out into a gentle chatter as they left Y/N and Todoroki alone to quietly go over the random book she had pulled out, the other boy never letting go of her. “How comes she isn’t like that with you?” Sero said teasingly, leaning forward to nudge at Katsuki’s arm and jarring him out of his staring. “Shut the fuck up soy sauce,” he grumbled turning away from the couple. He turned his back on them, sitting in his chair properly and propping his chin on his hand so he could stare out the window.

Katsuki didn’t know what he was feeling, a weird sort of sadness settling over him but he knew he didn’t like it. He had been so sure it was Y/N who had gifted the little black boxes of chocolates and who knew, maybe she had but apparently he and the candy cane weren’t on as equal footing as he had though.

Fuck he hatted Valentine’s Day and all the shitty things it represented but most of all he hated how he had hoped for something more and had been left disappointed and alone. This day couldn’t be over any quicker even if someone used a quirk to fast forward time.

[softkuna]

playlist

›  𝚋𝚘𝚔𝚞𝚝𝚘 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚔𝚞𝚛𝚘𝚘

› 𝚙𝚘𝚕𝚢. 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚋𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛 𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚎𝚜. 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚞𝚕𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚋𝚎𝚜. 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚊 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝.

›  𝟸𝟷𝟿𝟻𝚔

You had a shit day. You got pegged in the face with a volleyball so hard, you could practically taste the concussion as you sprawled backwards. Luckily, the medic ok’d you to keep playing. Unluckily, the whole ordeal happened right in front of a pro team’s scouting manager. The embarrassment alone made you want to hide under a rock until next season. To make it all sting just a little bit more, Bokuto and Kuroo had their own games to attend, so it wasn’t like you could curl up in Kuroo’s dorm like you might’ve before. Bokuto was only in town for a few days, too, and you were certain he’d be practicing or playing the whole weekend. So instead, you sigh as you walk onto the train by campus, shooting a text to the tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum.

🗨️We lost :( I think I broke my nose. And my careeeeeeer

  Bokuto’s fingers rapid-fire replied, followed my Kuroo’s more casual pace.

  🗯️BROKEN NOSE?!! ARE YOU OK???

🗯️Wait how did u lose? Aren’t they good luck????

💬That’s a broken leg, bruh.

💬Sorry babe. You’re not concussed, though, right?

🗨️I’m fine ^^” just pulled a hina

🗯️Hows a broken leg good luck? U cant play on that THAT SHIT HURTS 😱 😱

🗨️👀 👀 👀

🗨️Bo pls

  As you sat on the train, you quietly snorted to yourself. Bokuto was an amazing player and an even better boyfriend, but sometimes you thought his muscles squeezed out a braincell or two.

💬Saw the clip on twitter. hows your face? I’m sure its still hot

  You scoffed with a roll of your eyes. Kuroo, flirtatious as always, but your reflexive smile matched the tone of your text.

🗨️If hot = busted, then sure 🙄

🗯️HEY UR HOT 😘 😘 SHUDDUP

  By the way their texts disjointedly pieced together before coming to a halt, you knew their matches started. You locked your screen with a sigh. Whether it was the ace’s ADHD-induced impulse thoughts or the blocker’s humorously blunt honesty, the two had always managed to spike your spirits high and block the anxieties that crept over the net. Without their distractions, the day replayed in 4K across the theater of your mind. Back slumped against the seat, you could feel the heaviness of it drag you down to the ocean floor.

  But now here you were, walking to your apartment with no reprieve from the disappointment. Rather than doing your adult responsibilities like clean, cook, or generally care past a shower, you slept. It was a deep, blank sleep. The type where you know you’d wake up feeling that eerie calm in the dead of night.

    Brightness blared next to your pillow – invading your vision as it violently vibrated against your hand. A loud ring attacked your half-concious hearing, jolting your heart like a jumpstarted engine. Quick reflexes enacted before you could stop the near Olympic vault of your phone into the wall across the bed.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me… who the hell….” You tear the blankets off, shivering at the cold as you pick the device back up. Thank your lord and savior, Asahi, for gifting you an Otter Box for Christmas.

  A gentle gasp left your lips as you saw a slew of missed texts from the dynamic duo. Oh no. Oh no. You felt horrendous. Your phone lit up as a photo of Kuroo with a French fry up his nose vibrated to life.

  As fast as your fingers could, you slid to answer, “He-“

  “-LLO WE ARE OUTSIDE ARE YOU COMING OR WHAT?!” Bokuto hollered into the mic, practically blowing out the speaker with sheer vocal force.

  “Holy shit, Bo! What? What do you mean?” Cautiously, the screen was brought closer to your cheek again, ghosting about a centimeter for your hearing’s safety.

  “Don’t you check your phone, hot-stuff? We’re going for a drive,” Kuroo honked the horn, echoing through the window and phone.

  Sure enough, the string of texts was about a drive and a half-planned plan of action. Thrilled enthusiasm rippled through you. You didn’t even think you’d get to see Bokuto this visit let alone with Kuroo! Praise the scheduling gods!

  The phone squished between your shoulder and ear as hands searched for an outfit that wasn’t your hoe shorts and sports bra. You threw on Bokuto’s old Ace’s Way shirt, and on top a near ancient Nekoma varsity jacket. Both items of which were left in your apartment from a get together nearly a year ago, “I’ll be out in a sec!”

  College was difficult. Especially when each of you had gone in somewhat different directions after high school. Kuroo, like yourself, played volleyball in university. And like yourself, nearly ripped his hair out when experiencing the hell that was Macroeconomics with Professor Mori. Bokuto was scouted play volleyball professionally, popping in and out of Tokyo to visit you two. At some point along the way and a slew of confusing budding emotions later, the three of you dove head first into a lovingly symbiotic relationship. It was hard when each of your schedules were chaotic, but worked out for the best as you all strove for your own goals while cheering each other on.

  You grabbed your bag of random things including underwear, extra clothes, and some money.  You never knew with the two of them what may happen and you learned from one wild trip to Osaka that Bokuto’s sense of direction was about as bad as you’d think it’d be.

  Half jogging, you rolled your eyes to the red corvette. Kuroo loved that thing way too much. Through the window, you could see Bokuto lean across the console to open the back driver-side door for you. The grin he wore could’ve fueled the sun itself, “BABE! LIGHT OF MY LIFE! EDGE-LINE STRAIGHT SHOT! WER’RE GOING ON AN ADVENTURE,” His muscular arm stretched to you, calloused hands reaching for you to grab.

  He pulled you you between the seats for a  bear hug, wide chest nearly eating you whole. He was as toasty as always. Or maybe it was just your cheeks. Either way, you were happy to see him, “Missed you, Bo! Sorry for missing the texts.”

  “You were asleep weren’t ya?” Kuroo turned in the driver side, a hand finding its place at the crown of your hair. The lazy pique of his own lop-sided smile greeted your playful glare, which melted into a nod and a sigh. The look he gave softened at the navy-coated aura rolling off you in waves. He stroked your hair once, poking your cheek as his hand passed it, “You’re here. ‘s all that matters. Now, Hoots over here can shut up about your nose, which is… a little fucked up, wow.”

  “You don’t say?” Your expression dead-panned as Bokuto pulled back from you to examine the swollen cartilage. While you wanted them to see the game, you were absolutely glad that they didn’t. Bokuto would have barreled down the bleachers had he seen your wipe out in person. Actually, you recalled a snap from Atsumu; the camera pointed to the tile of a locker room, Bokuto’s howling in the background with a simple caption of ‘You good?’  

  Pulling away from the ace, you sat back into the middle seat, arms resting on the leather between the passenger and driver sides. Kuroo drove with his hands low on the wheel, long digits thwacking the steering wheel to a silent beat. You glanced between the two, suspicious of their matching expressions. You dared ask, “Why’s it so quiet?”

  “Are you saying-“ Kuroo began.

  “-you want some tuunesss?” Bokuto ended giddily.

  He readily tapped a button on his phone, shielding the screen from you protectively. Kuroo’s gaze darted between the dash screen and the road, waiting for whatever shitpost song Bokuto most definitely was about to put on.

  “Guys… what are you-“

  A record scratch.

  I still hear your voice when you sleep next to me.

  “You’re fucking kidding me! Turn it up, turn it up!” Your hand bulleted to the volume, body squeezing past the two to crank up Cascada’s Everytime We Touch until the windows rattled. Kuroo and Bokuto shared a knowing, toothy smirk. Bingo.

  “Forgive me, my weakness, but I don't know why

Without you, it's hard to survive!”

  Duetting with the utmost of dramatics, you and Bokuto reached for some imaginary lover escaping in the distance, opposite hand grasping near your hearts. Kuroo snickered, forever and always amused at how weirdly in-sync the two of you could be. Watching both of you thrash wildly together was probably the most endearing thing he’s seen all day.

  The silveret pumped his fists as you both scream-sang the modern masterpiece. His large hands enveloped yours with enough theatrics to shake the emotion into the chorus:  

  “'Cause every time we touch, I get this feeling

And every time we kiss, I swear I could fly

Can't you feel my heart beat fast? I want this to last

Need you by my side

'Cause every time we touch, I feel the static

And every time we kiss, I reach for the sky

Can't you hear my heart beat so? I can't let you go

Want you in my life!”

  The palm of your hands smacked into their biceps at the last lines, letting the 2000’s synth twinkle into your veins. The vibes in this vehicle were immaculate. Waves that crashed over you, drowning you earlier in the day, receded, leaving sun-warmed sands to dance across. The ones who paved the way were a sarcastic cat and overzealous owl.

  The song was coming to an end and you excitedly whipped between the two, “What’s next?! What’s the playlist?! Link it to me? Please?” You bat your eyelashes at them, Kuroo nudging his chin to the other. The ace hurriedly clicked a few buttons and opened a few apps, radiating delight itself, “Done!” Your phone buzzed with Bokuto’s link. The title of the playlist popped up, overpouring unadulterated admiration into your heart until it warmed up to your cheeks.

  Tunes To Cheer Our Best Babe Up To.

 It was silly, but on brand for the two. All of the songs were added within the last three hours by both boys. Each one of them an absolute banger.

  It was Kuroo’s idea in the beginning. He remembered all the times in high school you’d cry after an exam, near inconsolable until he’d loan you his headphones. Just a few months ago, he caught you throwing it back to the beat of some pop classic after you failed your first semester’s final exams. There’s a video of it somewhere, but he won’t admit to the sin. You know it because you can hear him hyena-laugh in the hallway every so often as Bad Boy riots in the background.

  Bokuto, with all the brilliantly rambunctious enthusiasm the world could give a single human being, added in every song he already had in his likes. All of which he sung with you on every trip until your voices hurt. He even added Mr. Brightside, reminding you of the time he screamed so loud during the chorus that he sounded like a donkey the rest of the day and into his next match. To this very day, the infamous ‘O ᴼO ᵒn ᵉ  TᵒOᵘCʰ’ could be heard in the locker rooms by each teammate in unison.

  You paused as the next song hit, mouth abruptly shutting as the two in the front recited, word-for-word,

  “Man, fuck.”

“What's wrong Bo?”

“Man, these kids, man, talkin' shit, makin' me feel bad.”

“Man, fuck them kids, bro! Look around, hoots, look at life!”

“Man, you're right”

“Mmm, you see? You see this fine bitch right over here?” Kuroo’s long fingers pinched your cheek at the red light, laughing as you jokingly smacked it away.

“Yeah, woah...” Bokuto beamed at you.

“You see these trees man? You see this water?” You snorted as Kuroo’s hand waved to four-way intersection.

“I guess it is okay.”

“Come on, man, you got so much more to appreciate, man.”

“Man you know what, y-you're right...” The words, lyrics or otherwise, still brought a childish scrunch to the ace’s handsome face.

“You damn right I'm right,” Kuroo smirked, taking even the smallest bit of delight out of his perfected timing, “I can't remember a time I was god-damn wrong.”

“Man, thanks, Demon Cat.”

“Hey man, that's what I'm here for.”

  Bokuto, half-joke-half-serious punched Kuroo’s bicep, eliciting a feral smirk as they went into the chorus. Bo’s arms crossed as he shook his shoulders to the beat. Kuroo threw down at the next red light, clapping to each beat. Just as the bass shook your heart in its chest, both players head-banged with all their might, car jerking with the force. You feared for the steering wheel and the threat of an airbag going off when both boys slam-drummed the vehicle’s surface. The sight of the two of them going absolutely feral elicited the brightest cackle from your belly.

  They really knew how to turn your shittiest days into your new favorites. And you’d definitely be revisiting this playlist.

[gallickingun]

YOUR BAKU IS PERFECT!!! may I pls have more??? 🥺👉👈

a/n: AW THANK YOU! i had to start easy bc he scares me lol. well not him so much as writing him correctly! 

warnings: swearing, blood, lil tension; everyone 18+ even if there’s nothing going on. 

ps, wow, this took a turn. 18+ for a reason now lol aka spicy but tolerable

“Outta my way, Deku!”

“Eat shit, IcyHot!”

“Fuck off, Weird Hair!”

“You know you can talk to your friends without insulting them, right?”

“Shut up,” Bakugo grumbles, dusting the ash off of his uniform.

“Yo!” Kirishima shouts as he trots over to where the two of you are, loitering over what remains of the training bots. He tilts his head, his face guard outlining his features, “Anyone ever notice that Bakugo never calls her anything mean?”

You scoff, “Oh take it as a compliment. Just means that he cares so little about me that he hasn’t thought of a crappy one-liner for me yet.”

“Hey!” Bakugo’s eyes widen, brows raising to form creases on his forehead. He’s growling now and you wonder how far you can push him, “You’re mean to people you like, I’ve figured you out, Baku’.”

He’s gritting his teeth and his jaw is quivering but you can’t help the giggle that parts your lips. The sound only seems to spur him on in his bout of fury, “You take that back, you raging little bitch!”

“There he is,” Kirishima groans, slapping his palm to his face. He sighs and shakes his head, reaching forward to grab Bakugo around the arms, dragging him towards the locker room. 

Pissing Bakugo off had to be the best part of training.

You made it your point to say the last thing to frustrate him; it’s entertaining. And you know he’ll never hurt you, not for real. No matter how far he pushes his limits, he hasn’t ever actually harmed his friends beyond repair.

“Same time tomorrow?” you salute the hothead as he’s roughly yanked to the lockers.

“What did you say?!” He’s screaming from across the yard, his hands ferociously animating in midair. He raises a fist to you before flipping you off with both hands, “You’re lucky Weird Hair is here, or else I’d totally come beat your ass!”

You chuckle as you turn to go to your own set of locker rooms, a hot shower calling your name. There isn’t enough energy remaining in your body to send him another taunt or insult. You also know when is enough with Bakugo - you don’t want to have to have a full fledged one-on-one with him unless you have to. You’d never admit it, but he might overpower your quirk if he were angry enough.

It seems to become a thing then, because now you can’t stop paying attention to the way that Bakugo says your name instead of calling you some rejected insult. Even though he’s moved into an apartment with Kirishima, and he and Midoriya spar on the regular, he still keeps the same nicknames he gave them in high school. 

You allow the tiniest of thoughts to wonder if maybe Bakugo just thinks highly enough of you to allow you to have your given name instead of giving you one himself.

The next time you bring it up, you’re pinning him down with your forearm on his throat, hips pressing harshly to him. You’re enlisted in the same agency, have been for about three years now, and you’re both working your way up the charts and the pay rates.

“Why don’t I get a cute nickname, Katsuki?” you tilt your head in genuine confusion.

He’s growling and before you know it, you feel a stinging explosion set off against your thigh and you’re rolling over. He takes advantage of the moment and pins you right back. Your head bobs against the training mat but the rest of your body is rendered immobile. His shins are on yours, successfully pinning your legs down as his hands make quick work of your upper body.

“Why does it fuckin’ matter?” Bakugo grits his teeth and narrows his eyes down at you, unsure as to what you’re getting at. His forearm is cutting off your breathing and he knows it, pushing into your esophagus as he repeats the question, only harsher this time.

You try to move your hand, signaling your surrender before you pass out.

Once he realizes, he’s leaning off of you, watching as you sputter and cough. You even thing you hear him mutter some sort of an apology as you work through your fit.

“I guess it doesn’t,” you manage, voice hoarse. “I’m just curious, since Kirishima said something.”

Bakugo rolls his eyes, resting his palms on the top of his thighs, “He’s talking out of his ass, is all.”

You find your hands are on his knees, casual as if this were normal. You chew on your lip and he gets impatient, brows knitted together as he snaps, “If you’ve got something to say, then say it!”

“You don’t see us as equals, do you?”

He smirks, “Well, I am the one on top of you while you beg for mercy, so you tell me.”

Your face burns bright red at his words and he falters, his breath hitching. He didn’t really mean it, it just slipped out. Or, rather, he didn’t mean for it to come across so honest.

Bakugo is clambering off of you then, his ears burning beneath the tails of his bandana. He offers you a hand, helping you stand to your feet. Your fingers linger a bit too long and you feel the sweat gather in his palms. You wonder if he’ll light you on fire for looking at him like that.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen anyone as an equal.” Bakugo’s voice is rough, hidden behind his arm as he wipes the blood from his face. He smirks and you wonder why you’ve never seen him as he is, “But maybe I could start. Get better, and then we’ll see.”

As he walks away, you make it your personal mission in life to be seen as an equal on the battle field and in real life.

You train harder, longer, putting every part of your being into becoming better. You research strategies, researching the other heroes, playing your strengths off of theirs. You stay up late and wake up early, your body begging for rest but you are unyielding as you climb the sidekick ranks.

It’s another seven months before you’re face-to-face with him again.

You’re paired up as sparring partners, the two of you going head-to-head for a full thirty minutes without even using your quirks. You’re both sweating, his quirk daring to go off if he really willed it to. You know the strength to withstand using his abilities must take a lot of concentration.

“Wow, you’re not half-bad,” he chuckles, swinging a right hook at you. You dodge it easily, reacting by kicking him in the side. He chokes on his own saliva and you smirk at him, “What, you scared, baby?”

You’re not sure why or how that slipped from your lips, but it takes him by surprise. Either way, it leaves you with an opening to jump in the air and swirl your knees around his neck to pin him to the ground. Your legs are around his waist and you’ve got his arms barred upward.

The sight of his sweating palms so close to your eyes makes you a little nervous, but you have enough faith in him to hold back his anger and his explosive fists. 

“Fuck,” you hear him mutter. He squeezes his eyes closed and wraps his palm around your face, fingers pinching your cheeks, “You asked for it.”

He swings you by your neck, your legs releasing him as your body falls to the ground with a loud thud, a small wave of energy tousling the ground next to you. Bakugo has you by the throat now, eyes wandering over your face as he inspects you.

“Been training, huh loser?” Bakugo juts his knee into your stomach and you force yourself to withhold from choking on your own spit. Your eyes bug out of your head at the pain but all you do is scrape and claw against his arms and torso, silently begging him to release you.

You glare up at him before reaching out to lick at his palm, thankful for once that neither of you are in your full hero get up. You’re somewhat surprised to taste ashen sweetness on your tongue, but it takes him off guard long enough for you to slap his arm away and stand to your feet.

“You fucking licked me?!”

You shrug, running towards him while he’s still on his knees. Your knee cap pushes into his chest, toppling him to the ground. You’ve knocked the breath out of him, his eyes rolling back in his head as he settles in the ground.

“Yield,” you ask of him, holding him by the throat. “C’mon, Baku, call it.”

The scent of smoke drifts to your nostrils and you barely have time to shake your head before a non-lethal explosion takes your attention away from him. Before he can get the jump on you, you propel yourself backward, flipping twice until you’re far enough away that you feel safe.

“Shows you, fuckin’ lickin’ me,” Bakugo rolls his eyes and his palms are like lighters, sparking as he stalks towards you.

You won’t be bested by him, not after all of the hard work you’ve been putting in for the past few months. You’re thankful that your own quirk is something opposing to his - water manipulation. In the same way that he can pool his sweat and light it on fire, you can turn yours into a weapon.

You call forward the water from your body and the water in the air into your palm, molding it into shards of ice on your fingertips. You start to sling the projectiles towards Katsuki as he walks closer. He dodges them with ease, but the final one slides across his cheek, drawing blood.

Everything inside of you churns at the sight of his eyes hardening, jaw quivering under the stress of his teeth as he grinds them together. He chuckles and it’s dark, but it stirs something in you - now you know he’s giving it his all, so when you win, it’ll be a justified win.

“I’m about to kill your ass,” Bakugo swipes the collected blood off of his face with his thumb, staring you down. “You’re damn lucky that I’m not wearing my gauntlets. I’d light your ass on fire before you even had time to use that shitty quirk of yours.”

You start working on pulling more water from the air, thankful that it’s a rather humid day. Now, if only it could rain. Then Bakugo would be completely out of his element and you would be more than comfortable.

“My shitty quirk just marked up your pretty face, ‘Suki.”

He charges at you and the two of you trade blows for what feels like hours. You have to stay at least a little ways away from him at all times if possible, his quirk only short range without his gauntlets. You’re glad that your quirk is able to become a ranged weapon if necessary.

Bakugo is much faster without his heavy suit, though, and you’re not ready for him to chase you, right on your heels as you try to put distance between the two of you. You lean down and swipe your feet around his ankles, but it seems he was ready for it because he jumps over the top of you and lands just in front of you.

“Not gonna get that one over on me again,” he snarls but it’s just on this side of a smile, his eyes lifting upward as he tangles with you again.

You tilt your head as you block one of his punches, “Am I turning you on, ‘Suki?”

“Shut the hell up,” he grunts.

“Your face is bleeding again,” you comment, twisting his hands in your grasp, hearing his wrist pop under the action. You wince but he shows little reaction to the pain, “Why don’t you clean it up, huh?”

The comment stops you in your tracks and allows him the opening to slam into you, pushing you across the greenway until you’re stumbling over your own body. You suck the water out of the surrounding plants, balling it up in your fists to create your own version of his gauntlets.

“Get over here, and maybe I will!” You call, raising your fists. He’s already sprinting toward you, but you use the remaining water on the ground to propel yourself upward, the spray of it blinding him long enough for you to encase his body in ice.

You’re gritting your teeth, keeping this part of your quirk is especially difficult given that you haven’t had time to hone it, unlike the other ways you know how to manipulate water. You can barely get the words out of your mouth, “Yield, Katsuki!”

You know that he’ll die from asphyxiation or hypothermia before he can blast his way out of your trap. His eyes widen from within the crystalline cage and your lower lip shakes - you were really hoping not to have to use this move, but he’s proven himself to you time and time again that he’s continuously climbing the ladder to get better.

“Yield!” you shout, your blood vessels straining against your skin.

His eyes close and it’s the closest thing to a yield that you’re going to get. As soon as you can, you drop the ice, the surrounding area flooding, the ground turning soggy beneath his feet.

Despite the absolutely enraged look on his face, you approach him and brush your thumb over his cheek, using the water from his face to heal his scratch.

“There,” you let out a breath at the exertion, “now you’re pretty again.”

Bakugo snatches your wrist harshly, glowering down at you, “Enjoy that, because you’re not going to beat me with that stupid quirk of yours again.”

Your jaw quivers but you ask the question anyway, “C-Could you ever see me as your equal, now that I’ve beaten you?”

“If I had my gauntlets, your stupid ice cage would have been toast!” Katsuki is shouting, his grip on your wrist tightening. You try your hardest not to wince but it does not go unnoticed by him as he makes the connection.

He shakes his head, “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to grab you that hard.”

“No, it’s fine, I,” your breath catches in your throat, “I shouldn’t have made you angry, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you get it?” he growls, yanking you closer, only softer this time. “You always make me angry.”

If you weren’t confused before, you sure are now. You know that Bakugo has a naturally hot-headed temperament, but you never expected him to attribute some of it to you.

“Gah, you’re such an idiot!” Bakugou runs a hand through his hair before blowing a breath out of his mouth, attempting to calm himself down. He really doesn’t want to screw this up. “Every time I see you, I get this, this stupid knot in my stomach. And it just pisses me off! Why are you different?”

You want to laugh because it appears he’s experiencing feelings for the first time, but you don’t want to make him feel humiliated. Instead, you reach your palm upward and wrap your fingers around his wrist, “You make me feel different too, Katsuki.”

He rolls his eyes, “Great. So we’re both fucked.”

This time you do laugh, but only because he’s so blunt. You know better than to touch him excessively, especially in public, “I guess so. Maybe we can fuck together?”

You’ve never seen Bakugo Katsuki’s eyes go so wide.

-

a/n: well, that was a bit different but still the same lol. not tagging anyone this time bc i don’t want to be a bother :) i hope you guys liked that. feel free to request more/others! 

[obx-snippets]

Honey & Glass ❀ Kiara Carrera

Summary: After a night of caring for baby sea turtles, y/n’s only light in her life is Kiara Carrera. But being a Thornton is a heavy crown to bear along with all the expectations.

Warning: cursing, (I think that’s it, let me know)

word count: 4.5k

Pairing: Kiara Carrera x female!reader

Masterlist

a/n: this is my first Kie one shot so hopfully you enjoy!  This fic is based off the song Little Miss Perfect. Stayed up till like 4 am writing this so I’m fried now. But leave feedback of your thoughts. 

*^credits to owner^* ❀❀❀ The verdant hills of the country club golf course weren't as occupied this Sunday morning like it was on other days. The Camerons were scattered about, Rafe and Sarah arguing over a hole in one while Wheezie continually hit her ball until she made it into a nearby lake. Despite the distraction going on around them, the Thornton siblings were locked into their game. Standing atop a hill, Y/n was still as she lined up her wedged golf club with the small golf ball lying on the patch of grass. Topper stood just behind his sister, arms crossed over his blue polo clad chest. A smirk was playing on his lips as he watched his sister's eyes straining on the task at hand. She took the game all too seriously, and it was enjoyable to pester her whenever he had the chance.

Y/n was always known to be the perfect child out of the two. Her ponytails were always slicked back without so much as a stray hair escaping. Straight A's, straight forward, straight path, she doesn't cut corners. She made a point be on time and was even head of the student council at the Kook Academy. Unlike her sensitive turd of a brother who washes himself with girls affection and alcohol whenever he saw Sarah under John B's arm, she's never blacked out at a party. Not once. But even if she attended a party, it wouldn't be her taste considering she only ever jams to Paul McCartney.

Just when y/n was about to make the shot, Scarlet and Sarah wandered by, the blonde's friend passing her a disdainful look. That was the other thing about Y/n Thornton. She wasn't a wealthy Kook by birth. She was adopted when she was only two years old. And though they spoiled her rotten, she can't help but question what she did to get as far as she's gotten.

The scornful look didn't go unnoticed by Topper, and he spared her a glare. Scarlet mirrored his expression before she followed Sarah toward the lake to help Wheezie retrieve her golf ball.

Y/n knew they only hated her because she wasn't a true Kook, and she was blessed with a privileged family. She knew she had done nothing wrong but being little miss perfect wasn't always luxurious. Not when she was hiding a secret that would surely dishonor the family name laid upon her.

Unwinding the tension that built up in her shoulder, Y/n hit the golf ball gently and let it roll into the hole. She squealed slightly and hopped on her white tennis shoes. Topper slowly clapped from behind her, jutting his bottom lips to emphasize he was impressed. The bright smile on her face was worth seeing any day in Topper's opinion.

"Eat grass bitch," Y/n jeered in a drolled tone, bumping Topper's shoulder with her own.  

Topper scoffed at her, raising his hands as he walked to where she was standing just a few seconds ago, rolling his shoulder back to take his shot. "Watch how the real pro does it." he chucked with a smug grin, bringing his sister to roll her eyes.  

Y/n stood next to Topper, resting her weight on the golf club while the other rested on her knee. "Has anyone ever told you that you have shitty form?" she whispered tauntingly in her brother's ear.

Topper swung back, making his sister take a cautious step away before hitting the ball across the field. "I do not!" he said, pointing his gloved hand toward the ball he made into the hole." If anyone has shitty form, it's you!" he jested, hovering his club mockingly in her face before she smacked it away.  

"Whatever, Top, at least my ball never ended up in the lake." y/n sneered playfully over her shoulder as she trotted toward her ball with a skip in her step.

Topper lifted his hand and dropped his arms to his side, rolling his eyes as he followed her. "That was one time!"

The sibling played a few more rounds until Topper called it quits after y/n beat him the rest of the day, making two holes in ones. She had school the next morning anyway, and with the sky colored a deep purple, they thought it was time to turn in for the night.

With her hands swaying by her side, a yawn left y/n lips before she felt Topper bump her shoulder with his own. "So there's rumors going around at school that you've gotta crush on somebody." Topper's tone was hopeful, and the way he lifted his eyebrows suggestively brought her to scoff.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever." she shrugged, suddenly finding the velcro of her white loves quite fascinating.

"Come on! I'm your brother, you can tell me!"

Y/n laughed, letting her ponytail graze her cheek when she whipped her head up toward where Topper walked beside her. "Um, yeah, exactly, you're my brother, I don't really feel like you're the one I should go to for talking about my love life. It's kinda embarrassing."

Topper let his eyes linger on his sister for a moment before looking ahead of him where Rafe and Sarah drove by in their golf cart. The Cameron sibling tossed them a wave in greeting while the Thornton siblings nodded in response. Topper grin began to grow, and he spun on the sole of his foot to walk backward in front of his sister.

"Oh, I know, I know who it is," he said confidently.

Y/n snorted, amused to hear what Topper would pull out of his sleeve. No one would ever know who she had eyes for. She even tried to deny it herself—several times. "Do you now?" she nodded along with his game.

"Yup."

"Shoot then, wise guy."

"It's Rafe, isn't it?"

Y/n nearly choked on her saliva, and she passed her brother a bewildered look. "What- No! Absolutely not." she gasped, shoving him in the chest but to no avail as he stayed standing and laughed heartily at his sister's attempt to knock him down.

"What's wrong with Rafe?" he chuckled teasingly, prodding her on the rib, and opted to walk by her side again.

Once they arrived at his car, she kept her hand on the passenger side handle and glared at her brother through the windows as he stood on the other side. "Should I start alphabetically or chronologically?" she smiled caustically, and Topper mirrored her expression once he unlocked the car, and the two climbed inside.

She thought the discussion had dropped once they shut the doors, and the engine roared to life. But Topper pestered on with his investigation.

"Is it Kelce?"

"Nope." she sighed deeply, resting her head back, irritated he wouldn't drop it. She was saddened that he would never guess the name even if he listed off all the boys on the island.

He tapped his finger anxiously on the steering wheel. "Jeremy from your AP classes?"

"No, Topper."

"Whatever," he huffed in defeat, "I'll find out eventually! Don't you worry."

No, you won't, she thought, letting her eyes draw to the trees in passing. If Topper weren't so concentrated on the dark road ahead, he would have seen the frown that made permanent residence on his sister's face the rest of the ride home. He would have even caught a glimpse of the sole tear that rolled down her cheeks as she thought of the one person she could never have and the one person no one could know she wanted.

___

Adjusting her straightened hair in the mirror that was magnetized in the back of her locker, y/n's mind was reeling with all the duties she had ahead of her. She had a council meeting next period, and she hasn't even gotten her notes in order. Sarah Cameron was leaning against her locker that resided next to y/n, worry pooling in her eyes as she watched her run her hands through her hair for the hundredth time since they've been standing there.

"If you keep stressing your hair like that, it's gonna fall out." Sarah pointed out, leaning her head against the cold metal, and tucked a blonde strand behind her ear.

Y/n shook her head, rubbing her temple with the tip of her fingers. "Sarah, I've been up all. night." she emphases, slamming her locker shut with more force than she intended and turned to her friend, the creases on her forehead prominent. "All night, trying to accommodate everything, and even then, I doubt Trevor will be satisfied. Such a pain my ass, I swear.."

"Stop beating yourself over it, my god. Trever will just have to grow a pair and get over it. You're busy as it is, and he can't expect you to drown yourself in all this crap."

Taking a deep inhale of breath, y/n wrung her hands to rid of the nerves. "Okay, how do I look? Head of the student council worthy?" she padded down the uniform skirt that barely reached past her fings while Sarah tugged on the lapels of her navy blue blazer, her eyes scanning her golden brooch that was pinned to the side.

"You're a babe y/n. Of course, you look good! Also, I was thinking after school we could stop by Scarlet's..."

A pretty girl walks by my locker

my heart gives a flutter

but I don't dare utter a word

cause that would be absurd behavior

for little miss perfect.

Sarah's words are slowly drowned out once y/n's eyes catch sight of Kiara Carrera gracefully walking by. Everything slows, and she wasn't sure if it was time slowing down in her favor or if it was her mind, giving her the chance to catch a glimpse of the one true thing that kept y/n going. The one person who she thought about before shutting her eyes and the first thing she smiled about once she woke up.  

The way her uniform hugged around her curves—the way her tie was loosened as it draped under the collar of her blouse. Kiara's long brown curls looked especially curlier that day as they bounced past her shoulder with every step. The half updo bun she wore accentuated her oval face perfectly, and it gave more space for y/n to admire her features.  

Y/n and Kira have known each other since they both volunteered to watch over a turtle nest back in July. They were both surprised to see each other but nevertheless fell into a smooth rhythm of comfortable conversation. The whole night was spent naming all the baby sea turtles after star constellations that they thought fit their personality. They snuggled close for the majority of the night after Kiara ran to Haywards with a spare key to grab a few snacks to help them survive the night. The cool night air was becoming overwhelming, so they decided to keep up the chattering to distract themselves.

Y/n took this as two girls blossoming a newfound friendship, but it was when Kiara began to speak that really sparked her interest. But the funny thing was, it wasn't something specific. It was everything she was saying. Kiara spoke of her passion for music, her friends, the environment, her dreams, and hopes. She spoke so gracefully that it drew y/n in more and more like a siren thirsty for water. Before she fell in love with Kiara, she fell in love with her words. Her free spirit. Her aura of happiness that drew people in for more. More of the words that trickled from her plump lips light honey. Something so sweet that y/n craved more than anything.

While she was fawning over the girl as she spoke animatedly about her passion for surfing, a crack was heard from the turtle nest. Racing to look over the small hole with flashlights, radiant smiles colored both girls' features, seeing the sand cave in as little baby sea turtles began crawling from their shells.

For a brief moment, Kira gazed upward to see Y/n eyes glowing with the light and smiled. She loved how carefree she seemed away from the strict counsel of her stepmother. The Thornton name was a heavy crown to bear, and she admired y/n for carrying it so effortlessly. And at this moment, Kiara couldn't help but blush when strands of y/n's hair began to fall near her cheek, and she wanted so badly to brush them away. But she was knocked from her thoughts once she noticed the girl hustling around to clear the area for the turtles to move.

The rest of the night was spent encouraging the turtles as they made their way toward the water and protecting them from possible predators.

"Fuck off, crab!" Kiara shouted, picking up a branch from the sand and poking at a hard exterior near one of the turtles.

"Kie that a rock! Focus!' y/n whispered harshly, afraid she would scare the baby turtles as they paddled down the sand path they created for them that led to the water.

"Shit, you're right-- oh my god its Aries!" Kiara exclaimed, flashing her light down at a turtle that was speeding ahead of the rest.

Y/n quirked a brow, 'How could you possibly know? That could be Sagittarius for all we know."

Kie scoured her flashlight toward her, nearly blinding y/n from the abrupt light assault. "What? No way! That is so Aries, I mean, look at how he's showin off and struttin and being a baddie!" Kie then shined her light toward the hole where the last baby turtle flipped out from his nest and slowly moved toward the water. "That is Sagittarius. The lazy bitch."

"Hey, don't call the turtle bitches-- oh my god, Kiara, a crab!"

"Where!?"

After seeing the sea turtles to safety, Kira and y/n walked a mile to the Wreck, babbling loudly, not caring if the residents shut them up. They were just so happy to be in each other's company. The night ended with the girls eating a couple of plates stacked with truffle fries and a carton of ice cream while diving into more in-depth topics. They cried, laughed, and then cried some more before falling asleep on each other's shoulder in a booth. Mr. Carerra came in the next morning and sent them back to Kiara's house where they all but threw themselves on her bed in the comfort of her thick, warm blankets.

After that, the two would hang out every chance they got, even if there was an unspoken spark hovering between them like a magnet. It brought them closer, but as soon as they dared to think of each other as more than friends, they repelled.

Though they spoke of everything, they never mentioned how they fell asleep with their hands intertwined under the blankets.

Y/n breathed hitched once those almond eyes met hers, and the smile she passed her way was at par with the brightness of the sun. It warmed every part of her being, making her heart melt in an instant. Kiara's smile could light up a room; everyone knows that. But what they can't see is that she lights y/n up inside completely that every difficulty of loving her disappears. Every crevice of doubt. Every corner of insecurity. Ever crack of self-loathing. Kiara Carrera filled those spaces so selflessly, and all it took was a smile.  

"Crush" was such an infantile word. But if that's what Topper wanted to call it, then yes, she had a crush on Kiara Carrera.

No, I can't risk falling off my throne,

Love is something you don't even know.

Two hands swaying in front of her face made her vision dizzy once she came back to reality and looked to Sarah, who looked relieved to finally grasp her attention.

"Dude bell rang. You ready?" she asked.

Y/n faked a smile before lifting her head a bit higher once Kira passed her and disappeared from sight. "Um yeah--yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

Sarah looped her arm with hers, and the two girls moved down the hall. Sarah felt the stiffness in her friend's arm and tilted her head with furrowed brows. "You okay?" she inquired softly with a smile.

"Just lost in thought is all," y/n, sighed, sucking on her bottom lips as she cast her eyes to her shoes.

"Must be unfamiliar territory then." Sarah laughed, giving her a playful shove, bringing y/n to bashfully shake her head at the compliment. "Now chin up, let's show Trevor, who's boss."

Once again, she let her thoughts of Kiara settle in a little corner of her brain, not to be touched until necessary, and went about her day.

Straight hair, straight A's, straight forward

Straight girl

Little miss perfect

that's me

One night my friend's stayed over

We laughed and drink and ordered

Something about her drew me in

What? It's totally platonic

"That is such a lie, Sarah, and you know it!" Y/n muffled around a bite of potato chips. She had called out her blonde friend, who rests her back against her bed's headboard while in a heated game of Kiss, Marry, Kill.

"What is so wrong about the order? It seems fine!" Sarah hiccuped after taking a swig of the large bottle of wine Kiara brought from home. She was currently sitting next to y/n; they're shoulders pressing together as they evened their weight on each other.

"Seriously. Marry Pope, kiss John B, and kill JJ? Where's the favor in that!" Kiara questioned with a shake of her head.

"Hey, Pope is superior." Y/n reminded her as she pointed toward Kiara with the loose finger that wasn't gripping the neck of the wine bottle. She tossed her head back and let the sweet, pungent taste burn her throat.

"Well, of course, he is, that answer is fine but c'mon! Kiss JJ and Kill John B! Simple." Kiara said, letting her thumb wipe off a drip of wine that rested on y/n chin. Too dazzled with a fascination with the spinning fan above her, Sarah didn't notice the lingering glances happening between Kie and Y/n.

Their eyes stayed glued, and Kiara smirked as a blush crept up y/n cheek. She brought her thumb to her lips and tasted the wine that didn't make it into y/n mouth before turning back to Sarah.

"JB is my boyfriend, Kie!" Sarah whined, lightly kicking her legs in a pout with her eyes squeezed shut, the onset of a headache beginning to rack her brain.

"You and John B are a literal walking hallmark movie!" Y/n told her with irritation lacing her tone. "I think he'll understand that you picked JJ over him in a game!"

"But...but -but I - I love jombee," Sarah slurred moments before a silent sob broke her lungs.

Kiara and Y/n both groaned in unison, disregarding how emotional Sarah got after too much drinking. "Pass me the damn bottle," Kira demanded with a roll of her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am," y/n replied.

That night was so exciting

Her smirks were so enticing

Hours speed by like seconds

Then, what happens is iconic

She takes a sip, I bite my lip

she tells a joke, I nearly choke

she braids my hair, I sit there

blacking out for the first time

With her straight hair now pulled back into a loose french braid made by the one and only Kiara, the two decided upon a game of never have I ever. After consoling Sarah for god knows what, the blonde fell asleep, leaving Kiara and y/n to sit at the end of the bed.

"Never have I ever called a turtle a bitch." Y/n narrowed her eyes, sitting on the balls of her feet, waiting for Kiara to drink from the wine bottle.

Kiara threw her head back, and a groan erupted from her chest while her loose, curly hair brushed past her shoulder. "Would you let that go? You know I love those turtles!" Kiara said, sipping the wine from the space in front of her as she sits criss-cross.  

Her eyes flickered around the bottle, meeting y/n eyes for a moment, making her bite her lip and look down at her fiddling hands that rested in her lap.

"I don't think Sagittarius appreciated being insulted. He was just taking his time." y/n said, finally looking back up to see Kie handing her the bottle.

"At least I didn't forget their names! What kind of mother are you?" Kie chuckled, her fingers lining the edge of her oversized yellow t-shirt that covered her gray shorts.

Y/n's lips parted, and shrugged her shoulders aggressively. "We named them when they haven't even hatched yet! Can you blame me for getting confused?"

Kiara's face was reddened by the second as a sudden laugh surpassed her lips. "A mother always knows." she chuckled.

With her eyes fluttered shut, y/n took this time to admire her once again. She watched her selfishly like no one else should have the honor of seeing Kiara in such a lighthearted state where only the two of them could be alone. Nothing was really funny about what she had said, but if she could hear her adorable snort, she didn't mind. She had a laugh like shattering glass, something you want to get so close to, but y/n was sure she would get cut with the shards.

"Right because you are so mother oriented." y/n mumbled, watching as Kiara calmed down and steadied her breathing; she brushed some hair from her face and settled down until her eyes caught y/n's. She could see wind stirred waves in her eyes. If one were brave enough to enter their depths, all else would blur, and you'd fall so deep in love that you'd choose to stay there no matter what.

Y/n was not sure what took over her. It must have been the ambiance of silence, but she couldn't take her eyes off Kiara's wet lips that had just consumed the wine. Uncertainty flooded Kiara's eyes as Y/n hesitantly moved forward, then gently cupped her jaw in her hands and pressed her lips against her lips. Kiara stayed frozen in place, her hands raised around y/n silhouette that was slightly hovering over her like she was afraid to touch her. Because if she touched her, then it made it real. But she wasn't pushing her away, and she didn't know why.

The kiss was innocent, new, an unknown territory that y/n was afraid to tread until now. All the expectations placed upon her to be the model daughter disappeared with Kiara Carrera. The perfect girl her mother wanted was defying everything society said was wrong. But if it was so wrong, why did she feel Kiara's hands touch her waist and kiss her back? The taste of wine was exchanged between their sweet kiss and shared breath. So sweet and savory like honey, but once Y/n pulled away and opened her eyes, her heart shattered like glass. As if what she had just done destroyed her whole being. The glass cut deep like she touched something that she shouldn't have, and now she was paying for it.

Next thing I know, I lose control

I finally kiss her, but oh no

I see a face in my window

then my brain starts to go

She saw her reflection. She saw herself. The reflection of someone she didn't recognize, and she felt an ache in her heart once she met Kiara's eyes again. At that moment, they both seemed to realize what they had done and quickly moved away from one another, standing up to face each other on either side of the bed.

No, you can't risk falling off your throne

Love

Is something you don't even know

Thunder rumbled in the sky, the clouds grayed and shifted the cold air into a moist, dewy atmosphere. Rain droplets raced down y/n umbrella, creating a curtain of water around her body as she stood barefoot at the beach. Her mind was lulled with last night's events, and she hated herself for driving Kiara away. Y/n eyes observed each raindrop like a kaleidoscope. She wondered if she could stop time just one last time, to suspend this watery gift and peek through each one. Perhaps it would be fun to sit inside one of those raindrops and take the gravity propelled ride to the earth. Maybe then, she would be able to melt away into nothingness.

She let her hands stretch out from the safety of her blue umbrella and felt the cold rain soak over her hand. Her eyes gloss over with unshed tears, thinking of the night with Kiara on the beach. Oh, how she wishes she could do it over, just to have on a normal night like that again.

The shifting of sand beside her pulled her from her thoughts, and she stiffened once she caught a glimpse of Kiara's curly hair beside her, holding her own yellow umbrella.

The sound of gentle rain upon the surface shielding their head is all that filled the air. That's what kept y/n from crying once Kiara began to speak.

"We can still be friends y/n."

The words hit her like a ton of bricks, and she didn't care when a warm tear slid down her cheek.

"Okay," she mumbles in response, not believing herself to say anymore. She would surely break down, and she couldn't hurt Kiara like that. Not when she cornered her in a difficult situation.

She could hear Kiara sniffle, and she faced her quickly. "I'm sorry, Yn. You have no idea how sorry I am, but-- I just can't do it."

Y/n chin wobbled, and she quickly bit down on her lip before a whimper could escape. "It's okay," she murmured with a crack in her voice.

That crack nearly broke Kiara in her entirely, and she nearly reached out to touch her arm but stopped.

"Y/n/n, please say something else," Kiara was now crying, her almond eyes looking darker, and the frown on her lips broke y/n's whole being. "Just say something to make me stay. And I will, but I have to hear it from you first."

Y/n let in a shaky breath and finally found the courage to look at Kiara. She tilted her head, a sad smile presenting itself on her quivering lips. "What is it worth if I can't tell everyone else that I love you, Kiara?"

Both girls stood silent, and the decision was made. Hours passed, and a lonesome blue umbrella stayed put on the beach while the yellow one was long gone. Once she was sure Kiara was gone, Y/n dropped the umbrella from her shaking hands and let the sob she held rack her body. She clapped a hand over her mouth to quiet the scream she wanted to let erupt. Holding her body, she let the rain drown out her cries and felt the memory of Kiara's lips be consumed by the raindrops to melt away into the earth.

Rewind, induce amnesia

Deny the truth it easier

You're just confused, believe her

When she says there's nothing there

It's never worth it

When you're little miss perfect.

@pogueszn @mdlyncline @cordeliascrown @acvross-the-universe

 @x-lulu @bricksatanakinswindow @ponyboys-sunsets @kaitieskidmore1 @casper17 @moonshinerbynight @illbesafeforyou @crxstalreeds

[justletmeplayminecraft]

Shsjsj Halloween prompt 38 with architechs? They’d probably get into some scooby doo shenanigans except ghosts are real

38. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”

okay so i might’ve... gone off a little bit. this is more mystery incorporated shenanigans than normal scooby. mumbo-centric, the architechs go to a haunted house that may, in fact, be haunted. mumbo pays the price.

featuring: could a visit to a haunted house go any worse, mumbo is very interesting to local ghost population, unfortunately for him, real life au, mumbo's surprisingly resourceful considering, sometimes you just need two ghost girls to tell u to get moving, angst/comfort, horror vibes, happy ending

warnings: violence, knife violence, possession, referenced murder of children and adults, graphic injuries, blood, mumbo gets a lil messed up, but nobody dies who isn’t already dead

"Why did I let you two drag me into this?" Grian is checking the time on his phone whilst Iskall holds Mumbo's hand like he's about to run off. Which, Mumbo would, actually. Given half a chance he'd be catching the first bus out of here. Iskall raises his free hand in a shrug, smirking at Mumbo's question.

"We hardly dragged you, if I remember, you agreed willingly." Iskall leans closer as he teases him, poking Mumbo's cheek with the cool finger of his prosthetic. 

Mumbo sighs, batting the finger away, "I agreed so you'd both stop asking! I didn't think we'd actually do it." Grian slips his phone into his pocket, rocking onto his heels. The look on his face is smug.

"Mumbo, you should know us better than that by now." 

Iskall hums high in agreement, "Don't tell us you're scared." 

"Lil scaredy Mumbo~." Mumbo brushes them away with a shake of his head. He can't believe he's friends with the two of them, he really can't. 

"It's a haunted house, I'm supposed to be afraid!" He points out. "Additionally, I think it's kinda bad taste to have a haunted house set in an actual haunted manor. Surely that's disrespectful." Grian pulls Mumbo's other hand free, him and Iskall holding one each. Stepping backwards as they move up the line, Mumbo frowns when his foot gets caught in the roots overwhelming mossy, cracked stone planters. He glances down the line, unsure how he didn't notice them bordering this section of the queue before.

"Mumbo, you do know there's no such thing as ghosts, right? You are aware of this fact?" Iskall's voice, despite its taunting nature, has a hint of seriousness to it. Mumbo's attempt at a word disintegrates into several noises instead. Of course, that only encourages Iskall to laugh, throwing his head back at the force of it. Grian slides up to Mumbo's shoulder, bumping into it.

"It's okay, Mumbo, we'll protect you from the spooky ghosts!" Grian sing-songs 'spooky' for extra effect. That effect is making Mumbo want to hit him. Unfortunately, he can't, because they're both still holding his hands. Mumbo stares into the cold fluorescent lights instead, ignoring them. Grian laughs, Iskall quick to join him.

Mumbo will give it to the organisers, they know how to set a scene. Outside of the bustling noise and lights of the queue, the grounds are as black as the night sky overhead. The overgrown lawn brushes the stone foundation they're waiting on; blades of grass occasionally tickling his ankle as he shuffles from foot to foot. His shoes are still muddy from when they were queuing on the lawn further back. He's glad they got off that section. If he had to listen to Grian and Iskall guess what shape the topiaries used to be for much longer he would've gone insane. Another scream from within the house makes him jump, gripping Iskall's hand tighter out of instinct. Iskall throws him a smirk, and blessedly doesn't comment. Small miracles. 

"We're nearly at the entrance!" Grian whispers, voice high with excitement. His fingers trace the stone wall of the house as they move. They lift when he reaches the wooden trim of a boarded up window, paint flaking under Grian's touch. He cringes, flicking the dried paint off his skin. Mumbo smiles to himself and pretends not to look. 

"After what, an hour and a half?" Iskall asks, his voice as tired as Mumbo's feet feel. Grian checks his phone with a hum.

"More like an hour and a quarter." The bright screen lights his face with an eerie glow until he shuts it off. Iskall sighs, the dramatic nature overtaken by a piercing scream that sounds like it's on the other side of the wall next to them. The three of them freeze up, before they shake their heads with gentle laughter, normal conversation resuming.

"Have we got any signal yet?" Iskall asks. 

"Nope!" Grian pops the word. At Iskall's groan, he laughs. "It's not my fault you're so addicted to social media."

"Not everybody can be so dedicated to our jobs," Iskall replies. Mumbo finds himself distracted by something out in the darkness of the lawn. It looks like two children, running in circles after each other. Their dresses look wholly impractical for the chill in the air. And too fancy for the muddy grass. Who would bring their children to a haunted house anyway? Staff members, maybe? Irresponsible parents?

His foot catches on a crack in the concrete, stumbling forward instead of a step. Iskall steadies him with the grip on his hand and Grian is quick to grab his shoulders. The two of them haul him upright again. Grian's smile is more amused than Iskall's concerned frown.

"You alright, dude?" He asks, checking Mumbo over carefully. Mumbo shakes his head, trying to dispel Iskall's worry.

"No, I'm fine. Foot got caught. I was watching the kids out on the-" Where he's pointing is empty. There are no white flashes of fabric where the children were, only the dark murkiness of night. "Oh. Well, they were there." Grian stares out into the lawn, skeptical.

"You sure you weren't seeing things, Mumbo?" Grian's voice is disbelieving, an edge of teasing slipping in.

"No, I- I swear they were right there. Two girls." He blinks, unsure where the two must have gone. He wasn't looking away for that long, but children are pretty fast.

"Maybe you saw some ghosts," Iskall joins the teasing. Mumbo huffs at them both, crossing his arms now Iskall has finally released his hand. 

"You two are the worst," he decides. 

"Spooky!" Grian sings, pulling himself onto Mumbo's shoulder as they step forward again. He feels a heavy relief as they finally round the corner and the dark porch comes into view. It looks like it's been restored, the paint on the wood shiny compared to the rest of the house. Although looking towards the roof of the porch, those metal spikes should've been left out. Someone could hurt themselves on those. Thankfully, the window above is boarded up.

"Finally," Iskall sighs, his shoulders slumping as the ticket checker comes into view. "Grian, you got them ready?" Grian hums, unzipping his coat pocket and pulling out the printed tickets. 

"Right here!" He holds them up proudly. Mumbo twists around to see the ticket man. The clothes look pretty authentic. A neat waistcoat, a chain coming from the pocket, well-fitting slacks. A couple passes their tickets over, smiling as he takes them. Then the man takes out a straight-up pocket watch. They're… Really going for this, aren't they? Mumbo sticks his own hands in his jean pockets. He prefers modern comforts. 

There are only a few more people ahead of them now. Mumbo shifts from foot to foot, his toe catching on the red carpet leading inside. He sighs. He's doomed to trip over everything tonight, isn't he? He looks up to find Grian looking at him, excitement in his expression. He tries to smile back, moving up to a drawn line on the carpet. There's nobody else in front of them now. Oh, they're actually doing this.

Upon a wave from the staff member, the trio heads up to the rope barrier. Past the entrance, the hallway splits into two, wooden signs marking each way. Yet, Mumbo can't help but be drawn to the bored-looking staff member as he holds his hand out. His eyes are a pale blue, almost white. Mumbo shudders when those eyes stare directly at him. He's quick to look away. This place is getting to him. Grian enthusiastically passes over their tickets, oblivious to the exchange beside him. 

"Three adults," he says. The man nods, looking over each ticket and checking the time on his pocket watch. He punches a hole through the corner of each one before handing them back. 

"Keep your tickets on you in case they need to be checked." Grian nods, giving Mumbo and Iskall their own ticket. Mumbo slips it into his pocket without checking. He printed them out earlier today at Grian's pestering. "And you'll need to leave your bag in the cloakroom, sir." The staff member gestures at the brown rucksack on Iskall's back. Iskall puts a hand on the strap, the bag containing their personal belongings. "It's a secure locker system, you only have to give them to the staff member there and you'll receive a wristband." They gesture down the second corridor, away from the queue and the noise.

"I can take it," Mumbo suggests. He could use a breather before they head into the attraction. Usually, he'd find his friends' excitement contagious, but right now it's only leaving him more unsettled. Iskall loosens the strap, sliding it off his back.

"You sure you won't get lost the moment we aren't holding your hands?" Iskall teases as he hands the bag to him. Mumbo rolls his eyes, slinging it over one of his shoulders. 

"Surprisingly, I don't think I'll get lost simply going up a corridor." Grian steps forward, unbuttoning his red coat to reveal the just as red jumper underneath.

"Can you take my coat too?" Mumbo lays it over one of his arms, watching Grian grin. "Thanks, Mumbo, love you." Mumbo shakes his head, already taking a step towards the separate corridor and past the now-open rope barrier. 

"I'll meet up with you guys in a minute," he tells them, precious cargo in hand. Grian and Iskall smile, Iskall offering a wave as they go ahead to join up with the queue.

"We won't go in without you!" Grian calls. Mumbo huffs a laugh.

"I'd prefer it if you did!" He calls in return. He watches until the two vanish behind the wall, their giggles merging into the crowd. The couple behind them are already joining the queue. Mumbo sighs, turning and checking the neat wooden sign before heading up the corridor. He's definitely going the right way. 

Metal sconces light the wall, a dim light against dark, ornate wallpaper. He doesn't realise how quiet it's grown until he can hear the wooden floor creak beneath the carpet. He cringes at the sound, pleased when he reaches another rope, blocking off the corridor and directing him into a smaller room. He looks around at the wooden bookshelves, a cushioned seat in the corner. Another staff member (he hopes) leans on a doorway inside, reading a hardcover book. Mumbo hesitates before he approaches.

"Hey, uh, are you taking the bags? For the cloakroom?" Dark eyes look up to him. It's a woman this time, hair tied back into a neat ponytail. She's also wearing a waistcoat, Mumbo assumes it must be their uniform.

"That would be me," the woman tells him, placing her book on the side table. Mumbo passes over the bag and coat, shrugging off his own to add to them. She disappears into the back room. Mumbo tries to peer in, but it's so dark he can't see anything. How can she tell where she's going? She comes back, presenting him with a wristband, an intricate pattern on both sides of the plastic. Mumbo takes it, frowning as he twirls it in his hand. 

"Doesn't it have a number on it?" He asks, a little curious about what kind of system they're using here. The woman shrugs her shoulder.

"Doesn't need one," she tells him. She reaches over to pick up her book again, flicking it open. "Have a nice stay." Mumbo's mouth remains open for a few seconds too long before he realises he's been dismissed. At least this will make an interesting story to tell the other two. He steps back into the corridor, focusing on slipping the wristband on. Then he looks up and stops. The rope barrier is gone. For a moment he's unsure if he imagined it, but he's certain that there was a barrier here. And a sign. Glancing into the room, the staff member is gone too. Okay, right. He can figure this out.

He looks down both sides of the hallway, trying to guess what direction he came from. They're identical, carpeted floor and metal sconces leading off into darkness. Even the panelling on the wall below the patterned wallpaper offers no clues. With a sigh, he sticks his hands into his pockets, resting over his phone. Listening, the manor is quiet. He can't hear the occasional screaming, although there's some creaking overhead. Helpful. Well, it was just a straight walk to the entrance, wasn't it? He can follow the corridor and come back if he notices something unfamiliar.

His steps are more cautious as he starts down the hall. He's never going to hear the end of it if he actually gets lost. Certainly not down a straight corridor. He'd like to keep his dignity tonight, please. Whatever is left of it. Except, he's fairly certain the hall wasn't this long. Nor did he notice this musty smell until now. He touches a finger to his nose, scrunching it up. It smells like wet paper. Or… something like that, at least. 

Giving up on this direction, he turns and goes the other way. From the outside, the manor didn't even look this big. This time, he takes more note of the closed doors lining the hall. The wooden frames match the doors, with a carved arch above each one. He pauses to look at the sculpted wood. A shield sits on top of twisted ribbon, although whatever was on the shield has been scratched off to reveal pale wood beneath. He walks to the next door only to find the same thing. Somebody didn't like the family coat of arms, then. It's the same down the entire corridor - the wood broken and splintered away. 

He nearly jumps when he finds himself back in the entrance hall. The front door is shut. Mumbo didn't think this shut until later? Maybe they hit capacity. He tilts his head in the direction of the queue, surprised when he hears silence. Surely Grian and Iskall would be waiting for him somewhere, right? That same ticket person with the spooky eyes is at the door. Mumbo steels himself before approaching him.

"Um, sir?" He gets no response from the man. He stares at the door as if Mumbo hadn't spoken. Mumbo closes the distance, coming up behind him. "Excuse me?" He reaches out to tap his shoulder, wondering if he's wearing headphones Mumbo hasn't spotted. 

Mumbo's fingers go straight through his shoulder.

There's a brief, still second where nothing moves. Mumbo stares at his hand in shock, hanging inside the now transparent arm. His mouth opens, brain desperately trying to catch up with this new situation. The rest of his body kicks in, pulling him away, clutching his hand like he's been burnt. His fingers are freezing, colder than they were after being stood in that queue. In a panic, he glances upwards, searching for a projector of some kind. 

"It has to be," he murmurs. His gentle voice feels so loud in the entrance. Like laughter in a graveyard. He didn't see the floor up above the first time he entered, or the huge black chandelier that seems to be waving in an absent breeze. There's no tell-tale flicker of a projector. Oh jeez. He turns back to the door.

Those eyes are right in front of him.

A shout gets caught in his throat, body tumbling over and into the wall behind him in his attempt to fling himself away. His fingers press into the carpet beneath him, legs shuffling backwards until his back is straight against the wall. The man is still walking towards him and Mumbo genuinely thinks his heart couldn't beat harder if it tried.

"Sir, I am so sorry, I'm a little lost right now and- oh goodness I put my hand through your shoulder, what is happening-?" Whether the man hears him or not is impossible to tell, but Mumbo has a sinking feeling nothing good is going to happen if he touches him. He's only getting closer and Mumbo is running out of options here.

A few things happen in quick succession.

First, the man reaches his hand out towards Mumbo, lips pulling into an unnaturally wide smile on a face that has only seemed disinterested until now. Second, Mumbo throws himself to the side, landing on his hands on the carpet beside him and trying to scramble to his feet. Third, the room plunges into darkness.

Mumbo falls straight into the wall, nails scratching the wood to pull himself up. He can't make out anything. He feels around him blindly, finding an empty space and taking quick, clumsy steps into it. He blinks hard. Once, twice. The world is still dark. Except, as he raises his arm to feel in front of him again, except for that wristband. 

He presses against the wall, checking from side to side as if he could see any threat coming for him. Convincing himself he's at least somewhat safe, he examines the wristband. The strange pattern in the plastic is glowing. It's literally glowing. He traces along the indent first, but can't spot any hidden LEDs. Then he tries to take the band off. The band does not come off.

"Oh, this is ridiculous." He can't even fit his nails underneath the plastic. This has to be a joke, right? Some kind of big misunderstanding? He fumbles in his pocket until he's pulling out his phone, even more relieved now that he didn't leave it in his coat. The screen lights up, making his hands silver in its glow. It's nearly midnight. He groans in frustration when he remembers that, of course, there's no signal. Not even for emergency calls. He's an idiot. Unlocking the screen, he goes to the one thing his phone can be useful for.

He hovers over the button before switching on the flashlight, chest tight until he confirms there's no man (ghost, was that a ghost? It can't be-) waiting for him. He swings the light around him nervously, trying to figure out where he is. He doesn't even remember entering a door, but it seems like he's in a living room of some kind. There's a stone fireplace in the wall, comfortable chairs and a large love seat. Lingering on the fireplace, he's distracted from the stonework by the charred wood and ash gathered at the bottom. There's still a hint of amber in the embers, letting off so little light it's barely noticeable. Was it on recently? He doesn't feel it in the air, his arms having broken into goosebumps under his dress shirt. 

The other people waiting for the attraction can't have moved too far, and Grian and Iskall should be with them. He takes a deep breath, calming his thoughts and steadying himself. Yeah. He just needs to find everyone else. They should have lights, and people, and hopefully staff members he doesn't put his hand through. Perfect. 

He creeps to the doorway, careful to shine his phone through it first. The hallway looks identical. Though, when he looks closer, it's in better condition to the other side. Towards the ceiling, where wallpaper was ripped to show the broken plasterboard beneath, it's immaculate. He catches the shine of wood over the door. The coat of arms is intact. He takes in the dragon on the shield. It's pretty cool, he wonders why it was broken in the other hall. 

Only when he's sure the hallway is safe does he continue down it. He guesses how far away the queue must be. Worst case, they've taken them somewhere safe and out of the way. Hopefully Grian and Iskall have raised the alarm for him. He's keeping an eye out for any staff members or… anyone, actually. He'd just like to see another person in the darkness.

He cringes as a creak pierces the air, lifting his foot quickly. He hates old houses. He hates them so much. As he hovers his phone over it, though, the carpet even looks fluffy. That's absurd. He shakes it off and attempts to tread lighter, the little it helps. His creaking steps and soft breaths are the only things he can hear. He'd think as he got closer to the others, he might hear them but there's nothing so far. It's unnerving. As if he isn't unnerved enough. 

He stops so quickly he nearly loses his footing at a flash of white down the hallway. He holds the light over the open doorway. It wasn't the right height to be that man. Perhaps another person? He steps forward, attempting to peek into the room.

He calls a nervous, "Hello?" Then realises he sounds like every white person in a horror movie. He stills when a face peers around the door. It's one of the children from earlier. This close, the girl is unnaturally pale, with almost a glow to her. Mumbo relaxes a little anyway, relieved to see a kind of familiar face. He crouches down to her height. "Hey, do you know where anyone is? Your parents maybe? I'm a little lost." She edges out from behind the door, neat white dress following her. It's lacy around the top, a line towards the bottom marking out wavy fabric around her feet. Which, he notices, don't have any shoes on.

When she speaks, it's with a gentle echo, like a song, "You can see me?" Mumbo frowns, watching her small hand push away some of the tight waves that have fallen from her braid.

"Yes? Why wouldn't I-" He's cut off when the girl's mouth drops open. She steps away from him, taking a deep breath. Mumbo's not sure what he's done wrong when she screams. He has to raise his hands to his ears, flinching at the high sound. Despite his phone's light pointing away, he can still see her clearly. Especially as she turns and runs. Straight… straight through a wall. Mumbo would very much like off this ride now. He pushes himself upright on his knees and freezes. He can feel something staring at him. She wasn't reacting to him, was she? Brandishing his phone in front of him, he spins, dragging his feet down the corridor. 

The man is walking slowly towards him. One foot after the other. Purposeful. Mumbo shivers, can't look into those eyes.

"What do you want?" He demands. "I'm honestly very confused right now, and I'd really like some answers." He walks backwards, keeping distance between them both. 

"It's been a long time since we've had a guest like you." Mumbo swears that voice wasn't so deep before. It's almost static around the edges, hurting Mumbo's ears. "You'll make a wonderful addition to the house." Mumbo pulls himself up taller, straightening his back.

"That's- that's a really nice offer but I'm really, very happy with my current job! I'm sorry but I'm not on the market right now!" There's no break in pace. Only the return of that smile, looking too big, too tight. Like the face it's on isn't made for it. 

"I think your spirit would be perfect to mould." The words make Mumbo's chest seize in terror. He doesn't need to understand the full implication behind them to realise that's not good. 

"Okay. Don't really want that. If you could just- I don't know, let me leave? Find my friends?" That is not the face of someone who's going to let him leave. His back knocks into a wall. He glances around him, panic consuming any rational thought. He's breathing too fast but it feels like he isn't breathing at all. There, next to him. Wooden stairs, twisting up into darkness. He looks at the approaching man and the hall he's backed into. There's nowhere else to go.

He leaps the first two stairs, one of his hands catching himself on the wood to push himself up. The light around him swings wildly as he struggles to keep his phone steady. Using his hand and feet, he scarpers to the landing, falling back onto carpet edged with small metal grippers, shaped like studded semi-circles. He drags himself up using the wall, swaying on his feet and taking deep breaths.

The man doesn't suddenly appear behind him, but Mumbo isn't taking any chances. He searches the immediate area and finds only one direction available. He hopes the others are nearby and runs down the hallway, hoping to put as much distance between him and that man as possible. There are no lights on up here either, but as he gets around, he realises that the windows aren't boarded up. Instead, a full moon shines bright silver light into the manor. Mumbo checks the time on his phone as turns off the torch. He needs to save battery.

It's nearly midnight. His lip twists. Did he read it wrong before? He must have. He was panicking. It makes sense. He's still got plenty of charge too, which is a relief. However, his hope that the change in height would give him service is quickly dashed. Obviously, he can't have too many good things. 

He comes to a stop upon reaching a branch in the hallway. There are two directions he could go. Neither has an obvious sign stating, 'This way!' It would've been nice. So he picks the left for no other reason than maze logic. Always follow the left wall. It also seems more lit up, which is vastly preferable to the darkness in other parts of the manor. It smells less of dust up here, too. He can smell something distantly flowery. Maybe the garden is in better condition than the front lawn? 

Since he's on the top floor, he takes the opportunity to look into some of the rooms. Mostly bedrooms, he notices. A lot of the beds are pristinely made, sheets looking like they've been washed recently. In one room there's a half-full glass on a nightstand. In another, a cup of tea sends twisted patterns of steam into the freezing air. Mumbo enters that room, curious if anybody's nearby. There are more signs of life on this floor. He's taking in the four-poster bed with fabric tied to the posts when he hears distant singing.

He turns towards the sound automatically, hands falling heavy by his sides. Singing, that must mean a person. He leaves the room, following the sound. The haunting notes fill his head in the silence through the manor. Each step brings him closer to the source, losing sight of the space around him. He vaguely notices his fingers slipping from his phone, and pushes the device into his pocket instead. His fingers fall limp once he does.

The room he enters is another bedroom. The bed is the largest he's seen so far, but besides the singing, all he takes in is the scent of lavender. Taking over his senses, soothing his thoughts into a quiet hum. Both the song and the lavender are coming from a woman, sitting in front of her vanity as she brushes long, dark hair. Mumbo takes small steps towards her before stopping, waiting in place. He remains there, watching, letting her song fill his head until there are no thoughts of his own left.

The click of her hairbrush on the vanity marks the end of the song. The woman stands, every movement poised, as she walks towards the silent Mumbo. His eyes are partially closed, head falling forward with his shoulders. She reaches under his chin, ice-cold fingers tilting his face towards her. Their eyes meet, dark brown into light, glassy blue.

"Oh, you poor thing." Her words have a similar song-like quality, dripping with sadness. "You must be so lost." Mumbo's eyes grow heavier as her other hand cups the back of his head, holding him still in front of her. "Rest, now. Rest and I'll make it all better." His eyes slip shut, mind falling completely silent.

When they open again, he's in front of a circular window. He steps towards it automatically. He wants to see his garden before he goes to bed. It looks so pretty in the nighttime. The moon shines cold light onto his face, the glow of the glass enchanting.

Nothing prepares him for the shove. His spine shouts in pain as the world shifts beneath him. Gravity changes and he raises thin arms to protect himself, his feet unable to find the ground. Glass shatters against his weight in a cacophony of noise and he's falling- the porch rushing to meet him, no longer decorative black spikes he can't bear to look at growing closer as he shuts his eyes-

Mumbo gasps as his eyes shoot open. He's leaning out of the shattered window, gusts of wind streaking through his hair, pinning his shirt to his body. The moon in front of him is bright, catching on the splintered glass in the window frame. Every breath feels heavy in his lungs, his entire body shivering in the chill of the air. Outside, the lawn is… Different. The grass is immaculate, flowerbeds blossoming in a way that still tugs at some part of his mind he's not convinced is his own. The once-broken planters along the pathway are shining in the glow of the moon, not a crack to be found. He can only glance at the spikes on the porch, pain stabbing through his chest and arms at the sight. And the queue, where's the queue?

He attempts to stumble away, hissing as he lifts his hands and finds thick lines of blood. How did he not feel that before? He looks at the glass shards where his hands were just resting. In fact, how didn't he feel the tugging pressure on either side of his shirt, or see the pale faces watching him-?

He screams. The girls let go of his shirt as he backs into the wall, pressing his bleeding palms flat against the panelling. They watch, making no move towards him. Simply watching. Mumbo's strength finally gives up and he sinks down the wall until he hits the ground. Burying his face into his knees, he takes a few seconds to just breathe. The girls are still watching him when he looks back up, twin faces expressionless.

"What do you want from me?" He asks, voice cracking in spite of his best efforts. The girls look at each other, expressions becoming almost… Remorseful? 

"We want to help you," one says. She's taller, hair tied into a ponytail by a simple ribbon. 

"You shouldn't be here," the other tells him. The one from before, with the untidy braid. "He's trapped you here." Mumbo presses his clenched fists against his face, making a soft whine that sounds pathetic to his own ears. 

"Who is he? What is going on? I'm just-" He runs out of words to say. The shorter girl looks down the hallway. They exchange another look and the taller holds a hand out, encouraging him up. 

"We should go to our room."

"You get affected by her." Mumbo looks at the empty window in front of him. The glass shards taunt him, memories that aren't quite his own mingled with stinging palms. He pushes himself onto his feet. What other option does he have? He's lost, he's freezing, he's scared. When this day started, he didn't think he'd be taking comfort in two ghost girls. But here he is. 

"Okay. Okay, I'll follow you." The taller girl takes Mumbo's hand. Her touch is like cold velvet against his already freezing skin. He doesn't pull away. Instead, he lets the pair lead him. Away from the broken window and the lingering scent of lavender. Further into the house with more direction than he's had since he arrived. The shorter girl skips ahead, peeking around doors and corners before gesturing them on. 

They come to a stop in a bedroom. It's pretty. That's the best way he can think to describe this room. The curtains are drawn, frills down to the floor. A dollhouse sits in the corner of the room beside the bed, dolls still, as if caught in time. And two twin beds. They're unmade yet a pristinely bright white. Besides dark spots on the edges of the pillows where the covers are drawn back, marking each bed. A glistening red, matching the deep cuts on his hands-

"Is that blood?" He hisses, freezing in place. The taller girl turns to look at him, tilting her head.

"This is our bedroom," she says it as if that should answer all of his questions. It does not. Not at all.

"But- Why is there blood?" He gestures at the stained sheets. His hand is released as both girls enter the room. The shorter girl picks up a discarded teddy from the floor.

"This is where we died," the taller tells him, jumping up and sitting on the bed. Her dress falls delicately around her, blending in with the covers. The shorter girl pushes herself up, sitting so they both face him. Mumbo stares. He hates to admit it, but he just stares. He understood, logically, they had to be dead. He saw one of them run through a wall. But hearing them say it, so simply? How is he supposed to react to that? 

"Died- right-" He hides his face, trying to keep himself calm. "You're ghosts. Of course. That-" Something else clicks, "Blood. There's blood. You two-"

"Murdered," the shorter one says.

"By him. Our father," the taller adds. Mumbo looks at them both closely. They look so small. 

"You- that's so much blood." The taller girl looks at the patch, she reaches out, scraping her finger against the stain. "You don't look like it." 

"We choose not to." Mumbo blinks and suddenly the girls have blood streaming from their necks and staining their dresses, the skin torn almost all the way through-

He blinks again and it's gone, along with his breath. There are just two girls with skin nearly as pale and flawless as their white dresses. He raises a hand to his mouth, unsure if he wants to be sick or cry. They're just- they're so young.

"It's okay," the shorter girl tells him. She's crossed her legs, her teddy sat in the middle. "We were sleeping. We didn't feel it." Mumbo can barely look at them without seeing the red. 

"Oh- oh, I feel sick." There's nowhere in the room for him to sit, so he settles for the floor. His legs shake as he lowers himself, finally dropping with a thud. The girls look down at him, always watching. It's as if he's something fascinating to them. Those bright eyes examine his every movement.

"Our father is the one who trapped you here," the taller girl tells him. "We're all trapped here. Our family, and the people he's got since." 

"The people he's got since?" Mumbo questions, the implication of that hitting him like a truck. "Like me?" They both nod.

"It used to be explorers," she speaks like she's telling a story, her words weaving pictures in Mumbo's mind, "most of them came and went. We'd watch them as they flashed their big boxes or tubes."

"But some of them could see us," the shorter one calls, face brightening in genuine excitement.

"Those were the ones he trapped. We'd listen to them scream and then they were trapped, like us." Mumbo's fingers unconsciously reach for his phone, holding it tight for comfort. Maybe he should write a message. Texts that won't send. Some sorries and 'I love you's. 

"Why are you telling me this?" He asks. "You're trapped here too." They turn to each other, smiling with slight nods.

"We decided to help," the taller one says.

"You were nice," the smaller continues. Mumbo holds his arm up, looking at the wristband. It continues glowing. He gives it a cursory push. Still no give. He’s so lost.

"How do you plan on doing that?" He asks. They turn to each other as their faces scrunch up. 

"We're not sure." 

"We've never done this before." Mumbo groans, sinking back until he's lying on the carpeted floor. His hand presses into his face until he grimaces at the sticky, congealing blood. 

"I'm going to die here," he murmurs. "I'm going to die here because apparently, I can see ghosts and my friends dragged me to a haunted house! I'm going to die!" He flashes his phone screen on, wishing for something. A message, a hint of signal and not the time, still showing it's right before midnight. Not that. The only one out of the three he gets. His hands sting more at the stretch of movement. 

"Are you finished?" He yelps when he lowers the phone and finds both girls standing over him. His arms are above his face as protection before he processes what's happening. He reveals a sliver of vision between his pale forearms. They're frowning.

"You're not going to escape by having a tantrum on the floor," the shorter tells him, her voice sharp as a teacher's. He's going to die and his last memories are going to be of dead children scolding him like he's one of them. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. 

"Come on. Let's go." Small hands tug at him as they attempt to pull him upright. It feels as effective as he is when he's stayed up too late, about to pass out standing up. "Do you want to be stuck here forever? Don't you have a family to go back to?" And Mumbo does. He has his family and-

"My friends. I came here with two friends." Grian and Iskall, what would they think? Would they even find a body, or would Mumbo have walked down that hallway and simply vanished? His mind rushes with questions that he doesn't want answers to. He doesn't want to see his friends search for him. He doesn't want to see them mourn. 

"Well, get up then. Let's go." The shorter girl claps for emphasis. This time, Mumbo does, using his arm as a pillar despite how it hurts. 

"I think," the taller declares, "we should try to get you outside. That's got to work, right?" Her questioning tone leaves Mumbo less than optimistic, but it's not as if he has any other options. 

"But that means going downstairs," the shorter girl whispers it like the words have weight. 

"Downstairs?" Mumbo echoes.

"That's where he is." The taller girl is already walking ahead, taking Mumbo's hand as she does. "But how else are we going to get outside?" 

"A window?" The shorter suggests. She takes Mumbo's other hand, the pair of them taking the lead with no option but to follow. They continue their discussion around him.

"No. The only open one is mother's and he can't go near it again. She's stronger than us, we nearly lost him before." Mumbo isn't sure how he feels about being discussed like this. They're leaning forwards as they walk, looking at each other. Yet they're leading him down the halls still. Walking blindly through the maze that had Mumbo so lost like it’s effortless. 

"The front door is shut too." The shorter has her face scrunched up, dark hair falling into it again. "We're not strong enough to open it." 

"The garden, then."

"That door was shut too." Their gentle bickering reminds him of Grian and Iskall. Silently, he accepts his fate. He's putting his life in the hands of two girls that have no idea what they're doing. Children. He is completely and utterly screwed. He's never going to hear Iskall and Grian bicker again. His hand twitches with the urge to wipe away what might be tears stinging his eyes. Little fingers hold on tighter.

The halls all blend together the longer they walk. They fall into a single file line, the taller girl leading. Only his footsteps make a sound - muted thuds through the house, less creaks now he has two people guiding him. Mumbo's in awe at the size of the manor. He allows that to occupy his mind for a little while. How would you even fill half of these rooms? They must have had servants for cleaning. In its day, this must've been an incredible place to grow up. Now, it's a prison. It's likely going to be his prison. The manor loses some grandeur at that thought. 

The taller releases his hand and leans forward, sticking her upper body straight through a wall. Mumbo blinks. He's never going to get used to that. She steps away, nodding at them both. 

"It's empty." The shorter girl nods in return, the pair sneaking around the partially closed door. Mumbo follows, ducking into a small, twisting, wooden staircase. The girls are skipping down the stairs, leaning on the central column to peer around. They glance at him occasionally, as if checking he's still there. Mumbo makes sure he's in their sight, feet struggling to fit on the stairs. This staircase wasn't made for somebody as tall as him.

Towards the bottom, he can pick up on a distinct noise slicing through the silence. The two girls have paused at the exit to the stairs, listening. It’s a harsh scrape, splintering underneath. Terror catches Mumbo's heart, the beat jumping in his ears. Is somebody destroying the house? What is that? 

"He's doing it again," the shorter comments, her face and voice grumpy. Mumbo is about to ask what he's doing, but the pair are already determinedly walking ahead. He'll defer to the experts.

"That's the only way to the entrance," the taller says, her gentle features pinched in thought. It's not directed at him. The words sink in anyway.

"We have to go past him?" He asks, continuing to follow despite his poor instincts trying to protect him. Their faces are set in grim determination.

"Yes." 

Mumbo has to fight to find words, "That's- that's a terrible idea! He wants to kill me." He presses his fist against his chest at the thought. One near death experience would be enough for one night. He's had several!

"He's already killed us," the shorter helpfully reminds him. Mumbo squeezes his eyes shut to calm down.

"We can figure it out," the taller replies. Honestly, Mumbo would just like to curl up in a corner and fade out of existence. That would be far preferable to this. But, he's already come this far, and they're both looking at him expectantly. 

"Planning," he suggests, "we could come up with a plan." They exchange looks.

"Planning's for adults," the taller decides. The shorter girl is already running ahead, scouting their path out. Mumbo makes a particularly undignified noise.

"I'm an adult!" He calls. His statement is ignored. The girls are storming ahead with a determination Mumbo wishes he had. Maybe there are some advantages to being dead. It's not like anyone can kill you again. Can they? 

The girls come to a stop in front of a corner. The taller puts her fingers on her lips. The harsh scraping is louder, vibrating through the walls. Mumbo can hear thuds, softened by the carpet. He clutches one of his hands tight to his chest. The gashes have nearly stopped bleeding. His entire palm is stained red - he's surprised he's not left marks on the house or the girls. Just another weird thing to keep track of.

The shorter girl pulls him closer, encouraging him to look around the corner. It's the same man as before, that's for certain. His appearance has changed, once tidy hair unkempt, waistcoat undone and torn. Mumbo flinches as a knife glints in the darkness. The man lunges forward, stabbing the blade into the wood above the door and prying at the carving, splintering wood around him. His focus is immovable as he drives the knife in further. Mumbo winces.

A tug on his shirt brings him to attention. The taller girl is pointing to something in the darkness. It hits Mumbo that he can barely see. He's been so reliant on the natural glow from the two girls, he forgot it's pitch black down here. He has no idea what she's pointing at or any idea how to articulate that. With one hand, he covers his eyes, shaking his head. When he looks again, the two girls are frowning, looking at each other. Finally, they nod. The shorter darts to the other side of the hall, vanishing into the wall. 

Mumbo watches in confusion until in the darkness of the hall, a doorway is lit up by her silhouette. Her cheeks are scrunching up her eyes as she grins. The taller girl turns to him, a question in her eyes. Mumbo nods, offering a thumbs up. She nods back, checking the position of her father. Then she points, mouthing a clear, 'Go.'

Mumbo takes the chance, transferring his weight to his toes. He waits for the sound of the knife hitting wood before running, feet light across the carpet until he reaches the doorway, falling into the room. Both girls are waiting for him. The shorter girl pokes her head out, returning with a big grin. Mumbo releases his breath, sinking onto the wall beside the doorframe. One stage closer. He allows himself a hint of relief, hope within reach. If they're patient, they should make it. He checks his phone. Still nearly midnight. They've got time.

The taller girl vanishes through one of the walls. Mumbo stays put, waiting for his next instruction. Sure, they'll have to figure out what to do next. But if he gets through this, Mumbo thinks he could do anything. 

He makes it to the next room, using the sound of the knife against wood and the glow of the girls to guide him. The man is close now. Mumbo breathes lightly, body tensed. The scraping stops. The three wait for it to start up again so they can decide their next move. 

Instead, the knife stabs through the wall with a loud yell, inches away from Mumbo's head.

Mumbo realises the shout was his own, throwing himself away from the wall and falling against a velvet chair. He manages to keep himself upright on shaky hands, twisting to face the door. The girls have twin looks of terror. Mumbo presses against the wall away from the door, a glowing silhouette blocking out the creeping darkness. 

"There you are." The man walks in. The knife is armed in his hand. "I knew I could smell something alive around here." To Mumbo's surprise, the taller girl gets in front of him, digging her hands into his hips. The man stops.

"Let him go!" She orders, stomping her foot. The shorter girl stands beside her, crossing her arms. They form a protective wall in front of Mumbo. His heart aches. The man, their supposed father, only scowls.

"Begone, brats." Mumbo feels the air shift. The girls look at each other in horror before they vanish, leaving the room empty. Nothing in-between Mumbo and the man and the knife.

"What did you do to them?!" He demands, his arms raised protectively. He tries to look around for the girls but he can't take his eyes off the man in front of him.

"I sent them away." The man steps forward. He taps the knife in his hand. The metal glints in his glow. Maybe, just maybe, the knife won't be able to hurt him. Please. "It'll take a while until they can manifest again."

"How can you-" Mumbo reaches for his hair but flinches as the strands irritate his hand. "You're sick. How can you do this to them? They're children!" The man continues forward. That knife is too close, way too close. He'd prefer it if it was on the other side of the house, in fact.

"They were going to leave me." Mumbo stumbles backwards as if the words sent off a shockwave. "Just like you're trying to." 

"They had every reason to!" Mumbo argues. He- he murdered them. He wants to do the same to Mumbo! "And I'm quite attached to my life as well!" 

"You signed your life away already." Mumbo jumps to the side away from the swing of the knife. "You've been carrying the contract in your pocket the entire time." Mumbo knows his confusion is showing on his face. All he has in his pockets is his phone. His phone and- 

"This?" Mumbo drags the ticket free of his pocket, brandishing the crumpled paper in front of the man like a weapon. It looks ordinary. One adult, entrance to the manor, on today's date. The hole is still punched in the corner. 

"It never said anything about leaving." Mumbo's heart drops at the words. Of course it didn't. That's- that's never written into websites or tickets. He wouldn't look for it because it's not like he ever expects this to happen. 

"Well-" he grabs both ends of the ticket, tearing it in two with a satisfying rip, "-I void that contract. I don't agree." Nothing happens. The man's face shifts to one of amusement before he barks out a grating laugh. Mumbo frowns, missing the joke.

"You think that will save you?" The man asks, slinking towards him again. "You think I can't take your soul by force? Where have you got to run?" Mumbo jumps back from a swing that nearly catches his side. He eyes up the doorway. The man is standing in his way but- A plan comes to his head. A stupid plan, but a plan nonetheless.

He kicks, watching the amusement on the man's face as his foot goes straight through him. Mumbo uses the momentum to dive forwards, straight through the man's body. It feels like plunging into a frozen ocean, leaving him gasping for air. But he's out. He's in the hallway. His hand presses against the wall until he gets his feet under him, sprinting into the empty darkness. 

He holds his arm out, wishing the glow of the wristband was brighter to guide him. There's a roar behind him, sending Mumbo's body into violent shivers. He feels like he might cry. He forces one foot after another, hoping that the entrance is somewhere ahead of him. He doesn't know what it'll solve. Maybe it's a moral victory. 

His hopes are dashed when his hand hits a wall. The pain is overshadowed by crushing defeat, the panic threatening to choke him. He presses around but can't find where to go. This was supposed to be a straight hallway! High-pitched, scraping drags closer to him, the sound growing louder. Mumbo turns, frozen before the man. It can't end here. Please, he doesn't want to die.

"It'll be over soon," the man tells him, words like ice in Mumbo's lungs. The knife gleams as it raises above Mumbo's head. His scream comes out as a sob, raising his arms in a last, futile attempt at defence. 

The knife hits the wristband. 

Mumbo barely registers the fact he's not been hit as the plastic glows, growing brighter as it peels away from sweaty skin. Something silent in the air bursts. He hears a scream as he loses his footing to the force. Falling backwards, the man is gradually vanishing, expression twisted in pain. Mumbo's head cracks against the wall behind him. He slumps onto the carpet, thoughts swimming. He blinks once. Twice. The darkness of the hallway takes over his thoughts, sliding into silence.

-

"I think he's waking up!" Mumbo's head feels like concrete. Everything throbs in time to his heartbeat, the voices around him are so loud he can't focus on the words. There's something soft touching his cheek, reminiscent of an earlier touch, freezing cold-

He flinches away from it, head swirling in pain. Another touch steadies him. He realises there's something cool and damp against the back of his head. He raises his hand, trying to touch it but brushing against something else solid, warm. Cautiously, he forces his eyes open, wincing at the brightness that awaits him. There's shadows moving in his vision, one of them speaking.

"-bo? Hey, can you hear us?" Mumbo nods, whining at the pain that movement sends through his head. He rests his forehead on a closed fist, giving the fog in his brain time to dissipate. Everything is blissfully quiet around him, the only noise being distant footsteps and creaking floorboards. 

The night hits him at once. He startles up, swaying before he can even get his feet under him. Hands on his shoulders keep him from standing. 

"Woah, hey. You had a nasty fall. Careful." The voice sinks into Mumbo's mind. He finds himself looking into dark brown eyes, bright red at the edge of his vision. He leaps forward, throwing his arms around his friend.

"Grian." His voice breaks on the name. Those arms reach around him, patting his back robotically. 

"Mumbo?" Grian's voice is confused as he hugs back. "It's only been a few minutes, dude. You weren't out for that long." Mumbo's breath comes out as a wheeze.

"What time is it?" He asks, almost desperate. There's a pause, Grian's head lifting up.

"Like, ten minutes past midnight." There's Iskall. They're both here. Safe. He's safe. "Mumbo are you okay? Besides the head injury and- your hands. Like, dude?" Mumbo's breath comes out shaky with the tears he forces back.

"I'm- I'm okay. I think." He looks around the familiar hallway. The carpet is worn and dirty, the wallpaper peeling in places. Above the nearest doorway, the wooden coat of arms is broken. 

"What even happened, Mumbo?" Grian asks. He gets shuffled to the side as a young man kneels down, a medical kit in his hands. Mumbo shuts his eyes, trying to think. A lot. A lot happened. Oh goodness, a lot has happened. He doesn't even know where to start. 

So instead, he lies, "I- I tripped." 

"You tripped?" Grian sounds in disbelief. 

"When I joked about letting go of your hand, I didn't mean for it to be serious." The joking in Iskall's voice is shadowed by worry. That conversation feels like it happened hours ago. Mumbo holds his hands out for the first aider, allowing him to wipe the nearly closed up wounds. He winces at the sting of alcohol, sitting patiently and trying not to move. 

"Do we need a babysitter for you?" Grian joins in with the teasing. It sounds just as concerned. Mumbo tries to smile. He feels exhausted down to his very bones. He wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep. 

"I'm okay," he attempts to reassure them. "Honestly, I need to look where I'm going." It's so much easier than explaining what really happened.

"Maybe you were tripped by a ghost," Iskall jokes. It falls a bit flat, considering, but Mumbo finds himself laughing anyway. This is absurd. Did he just imagine all of that?

"There you go, all bandaged up." The first aider releases Mumbo's hand. Mumbo flexes them, feeling bandages shift around his palms. It's going to be a nightmare working with this. "No idea how you did it, mind. They look almost healed. Old wounds?" Mumbo hums, allowing the guy to take whatever answer he wants from it. "You should be fine to go home, anyway." Mumbo sags in relief before remembering the original reason for their visit.

"But what about you two?" He asks, "Don't you want to do the attraction?" 

"Dude, we can do the attraction another time. We're taking you home." Grian nods in agreement at Iskall's words. Mumbo sits back, gently poking the ice pack on his head. It's beginning to melt into his hair. He takes it off, offering it back to the first aider.

"Hey." Mumbo looks up at a familiar voice, jumping away from the woman who approaches. She's no longer wearing a waistcoat, instead, there's a dark hoodie. Her hair is still in a ponytail. "Got your bags." Her eyes meet Mumbo's. They glint with a knowing smile, lightening to an almost-white. He stares at her as Iskall takes their stuff. Then, she turns away, waving over her shoulder. Grian offers his hands out to Mumbo, helping him onto his feet. 

"Come on, let's get Mr Accident Prone here home," Grian calls to Iskall, wrapping his arm around Mumbo's waist. Iskall laughs, turning and thanking the staff members for their help whilst Grian walks with Mumbo to the entrance. Mumbo tries not to tense as the hallway opens up, but he does. He only relaxes once he sees the open door and no sign of that man. Grian looks at him in concern, asking a soft, "You alright?" 

"I'm fine, sorry." Grian obviously isn't convinced, but they wait by the door for Iskall to catch up. He appears shortly after, rucksack on his back and their coats slung over his arm. He holds them out for Grian and Mumbo to take. Mumbo wraps himself up tightly, trying to stave off some of the lingering chill in his bones.

A weight leaves Mumbo's shoulders when they step outside. The queue is still chatting away and, for once, Mumbo doesn't care about the stares they get. He's far, far too tired. Grian leads him along with a warm hand in his, past the queue and under the bright lights. The grounds are in the same decay that Mumbo remembers from when they arrived. 

"Right," Grian turns to Mumbo, squeezing his hand, "what actually happened, then?" Mumbo pauses, looking at Grian and trying to tell if he's serious. 

"You're a terrible liar, Mumbo," Iskall informs him, backing Grian up. 

"And why were you freezing up at things? Like that girl and the entrance? Clearly something's up." 

"And you're clumsy but not that clumsy. Plus your hands! There was nothing sharp in the hall!" They're both so concerned, eyes watching Mumbo carefully. They probably think somebody picked a fight with him. They wouldn't be too far off. 

"You guys wouldn't believe me if I told you," Mumbo replies, at last. Grian groans at him, Iskall rolling his eyes. Mumbo takes a second to glance back at the manor, standing tall in the night.

For a split second, he sees the manor as it once was. Windows closed and uncovered, the one above the porch shattered as blood drips onto the porch railing below. The flowers are blooming, the paint shining. And on the lawn, he sees two young girls, running across the tidy grass. He thinks he can hear their laughter in the distance. Then it's gone, returned to the abandoned manor someone decided to set a haunted house up in. 

"There's no such thing as ghosts," he says, turning to Iskall as he parrots those earlier words. The two of them make loud noises, falling over each other in argument.

"What does that mean?!" Grian cries, waving his hands. "Come on, Mumbo!" Mumbo laughs tiredly, resolving to ignore their protests. Maybe he'll tell them another time. Tonight, he just wants to put this entire experience behind him. Curl up in a warm bed and sleep until he doesn't feel ready to fall over. 

He's not going anywhere haunted for a long time.