#how much banging ur head against the wall can you do before you ask for help

[impossible-rat-babies]

idk are we at a point where it’s like. if ur wearing lvl 100 gear i expect u to not fail basic mechanics in a raid

[seeingivy]

the mariners

spider!eren x f!reader

**part 2 to my spider-eren post

an: I call this...I hate my writing so much that I will just post whatever came out and say a prayer. also the fact that I ignored the poll and just picked one but u know whatever. no one ask me for part 3 bc I will write reader getting injured...

--

to spider-boy 

you: YOU KNOW WHAT’S STUPID?? 

eren: admin not approving your budget requests? the color scheme for prom? reiner? 

you: yes. to all of the above, but that wasn’t what i was going to say. my beef is with DOORDASH TODAY. 

eren: and what did doordash do this time? 

you: if the store closes IN THIRTY MINUTES, WHY CAN’T I ORDER FROM THE STORE????? 

eren: woe is you. but they need time to get there, sweetheart. 

you: you’re supposed to be on my side. 

eren: just go and get it urself lazy pants :D 

you: my stomach hurts. im on my period and i just wanted to order stupid ice cream to my apartment >:( 

eren: sorru swertheaft 

you: quit swinging and texting. just call me when ur home. 

Approximately twenty minutes later, you’re met with a very out of breath Spiderman and a tub of chocolate ice cream banging against your window. You pull apart the curtains and glare at him as Eren quietly sneaks in and plops down on to your red-and-yellow Harry Potter sheets. 

He’s never really come into your house properly, your dad being the police chief who wants his head on a stick and all, so he’s never really seen the extent of your…dorkiness. And he can tell right away, that you haven’t changed your bedroom from the little princess crowns and trophies you’ve been winning since fourth grade displayed on your dresser. 

You dig around in your closet for the hoodie and sweatpants you stole from Eren last time you were over at his apartment and place them on the bed for him with a pat. He’s peeling out of his suit, throwing on the clothes you left him as he reaches forward and presses a kiss to your cheek. You note the big bruise on his side, yellowing as he pulls the hoodie on. 

“You know, when I vent to you, I’m not really expecting you to go swinging around fixing my problems, Eren.” 

“I know that. But I can do that, why wouldn’t I?” 

You pinch the side of his cheek as the two of you pull into your sheets and resting your head against Eren’s shoulder as he digs his spoon into the ice cream. Eren braces himself as he asks the question. 

“How was your day?”

“Oh my fucking god, Eren. You would not believe it. I wear a white skirt to class and then of course I get my period. And then that dumbass Reiner on the student council starts telling me that he’s going to run against me for class president next year. As if he actually comes to any of the meetings, and then-” 

Eren loves this about you. That you get so worked up, so frustrated that the little veins in your forehead start bulging out. That you care so much about what the theme is for prom and that you lay out your outfits for class the day before and-

He leans forward as you keep ranting, silencing you by pressing a kiss to your lips. He can taste the chocolate hanging off your lips, positive that his lips taste the same on yours. Eren can feel you immediately feel relax under him by the way you snake your hand around his neck to pull him closer.

The second you yank him in, deepening the kiss as you hit the wall behind you, Eren slithers his hands around your legs and pulls you on top of him. He’s sure that the ice cream is melting on the side table and that he should stop because you’re on your period and because your parents and your brother are downstairs but you’re just pulling him in with your stupid flowery smell of yours and yanking him back every time he tries to pull away that he can’t. 

Eren starts kissing down the side of your neck, blood burning at how your body moves under his touch. He focuses on that one part of your neck - a few inches right below your ear - and sinks in, squeezing in on the same spot. 

“Eren.” 

“Shut up. Your little brother is downstairs. And your parents would-” 

Right on cue, you hear a knock at your door. You and Eren frantically pull apart with matching widened eyes as you dart around for a place to hide Eren. 

“Hi bug, can I come in?” 

You immediately pull Eren off of your sheets and he quickly crawls under your bed. Your dad walks right in as you wipe the wetness off of your neck, with him setting your dinner plate down and taking residence at your desk. He lifts up the papers on your desk - the fucking DNA samples that Eren gave you so you could figure out how he became Spiderman in the first place - and lifts them up to read. 

“Arachnoid Deoxyribonucle- this is so dense I can’t even understand it.” 

You quickly yank the papers out of your dad’s hands, shuffling them in your stack and placing them far, far away from where he was sitting. 

“Why are your lips so…swollen, bug?” 

You feel your cheeks burn as you bring your hand up to your mouth, feeling the puffy skin under your fingers. Because your stupid boyfriend was fucking pulling you onto his lap and sucking on your fucking lips. You cover up the side of your neck with the ends of your hair, positive that Eren’s lips left a sweet, pink spot on your neck that would purple up tomorrow. 

“L-lip plumpers.”

“Lip plumpers? Don’t tell me you’re doing all that for that Jaeger kid, because-”

Oh god. 

“No. I’m not, I just-” 

“Your mom said he was a sweet kid, like the stupid nerdy type. Like socially inept or whatever.” he murmurs. 

“He’s not socially inept, he���s just shy!” 

Your dads smirking at you now and you can feel your cheeks burning at what he says next. 

“Uh huh. Mrs. Eren Jaeger. I can’t believe you’re dating the same kid whose name you used to write all over your notebooks and diaries. And I get that you like the guy but you don’t have to change yourself just for some-” 

“I didn’t do it for him! And that was a long time ago and that wasn’t even true and-” 

“I’m teasing, bug. Just make sure you bring your plate back down. I feel like you haven’t been eating as much since you started planning the prom and working at Oscorp and all.” 

“Yeah, Dad. I’m really, really busy so if you could just leave that would-”

“Hey kid. I just wanted to see you. I know that you’re busy but would it kill you to-”

“No, no. I know that, I’m going to come to the vigil on Saturday, okay?” 

“Okay, bug. You better not be late.” 

“Promise, Dad. Love you.” 

You slam the door shut as he walks out, panting behind the door. You sit directly on your bed, ankle circling his fingers around your ankle and squeezing before he crawls out, his head placed directly on your lap. 

“Mrs. Eren-” 

“Shut up.” 

“It’s cute! You had a crush on me when you were-” 

“Eren. Drop it, please.” you whine. 

He climbs back into your bed, opening his arm for you to lie right against him. He’s rubbing small circles into your back, pulling open your laptop as he looks for a movie to watch. He pulls in, pressing a kiss to the top of your hair as he talks. 

“Sorry to leave you all hot and bothered, sweetheart.” 

“I’m on my period. There was no way you could have fixed that. And don’t act like I don’t see your friend through those sweatpants you’re wearing. You’re more hot and bothered than I am.” 

“Did you just call my dick your frie-” 

You clamp your hand around his mouth, cheeks burning as you lay against him. 

“Quit teasing me, Eren. I’m in pain.” 

He leans down, cupping your face with his left hand as he presses a soft, soft kiss to your already swollen lips. 

“Stop moaning and groaning you big baby.” 

He leans down, pressing soft kisses all over your face as he clicks the movie on, as you nestle into his arms. 

“What’s on Saturday, sweet?” 

“The vigil for the Monroe family. It’s on Twelfth Street, at the Mariners if you want to come with us. I know my parents would really like it if you came and-

“No. I’m busy.”

You feel your muscles clench at the decisiveness in Eren’s voice, your cheeks burning for even suggesting it. 

Why would Eren want to come with your parents to the vigil? He doesn’t even really know them that well and-

And Eren can feel the guilt itching in his throat at how dejected you look, your expression falling the second he denies you. And really - he hates to deny you. Eren reaches forward, tucking your hair behind your ear as he frowns. You reach for that little soft dent in his cheek, right where his dimples are, as you poke them twice. 

“That’s okay, Eren. I was just suggesting it.” you whisper. 

“The Mariners. They…thew a vigil for my parents when they died. I actually haven’t been back since.” 

You deflate, wrapping your hand around his neck as you lean into his touch, warm on your skin. You’re tracing little shapes into the skin on his biceps, his soft breaths filling the silence. 

“I’m sorry, Eren. I totally forgot about that, I-” you whisper. 

“How could you have known?” Eren murmurs. Back. 

“I was there. I should have remembered.” you respond back. 

Eren smiles in response, leaning his forehead against yours as he smiles. You absentmindedly reach for his dimples again, lightly smile at the little lines in the softness of his cheeks. 

“You wore two braids. The…the kind you like split in the middle.” 

“Pigtail braids.” 

“Pigtail braids. I remember, you only did them sometimes. Like when we had that holiday party in fourth grade…or Mikasa’s going away party. And you wore them to the vigil, with your shiny red shoes.” 

“I loved those shoes! I literally sobbed when I grew out of them and they didn’t make them in my size anymore.” you whine. 

“You gave me brownies, I think. We didn’t talk while we were there, but your family - you left them on the table.” he responds. 

“Yeah. I guess I was a little bit nervous to talk to you.” you murmur. 

Eren grins. 

“Because I’m so cute?” Eren asks. 

“Shut up. I did not-” 

“Yes, you did. Your dad just said.” 

“And what? I can’t like my boyfriend? Is that a crime?” 

Eren pulls you fully into his arms, burrowing his face into your neck, as you reach up and card your hands through the mess of his hair. It’s arranged every which way - no thanks to his mask - as you comb it back against his forehead and lightly rub your finger against the pink scar on his forehead. You pull back, reaching forward to press a kiss against the skin. 

“I’ll try to come, okay? I want to meet your family. And I should go back.” Eren murmurs. 

“Don’t push yourself. You’ll meet them when you’ll meet them. And you’ve already met Falco, technically, so-” you respond. 

“Just, promise you’ll be there? I’d hate to come all the way there just to not be graced with your presence.” 

You smile in response, as he pulls the blanket over the two of you and nestles into your arms.

--

It’s not that you hate going to the events. The vigils, the funerals, the lot of them. You’ve been to hundreds since you were a kid - an instance from your dad that you had to show out for the community, in the way that they were needed. That people were only held up by those around them and that you should always be the first one to reach. 

But there was something about it that just sat with you for too long. Watching the kids pass by, with the decorated pictures of their parents at the front, or a sibling standing alone in front of their own they just lost. At first it made your heart hurt - that it could easily be your parents on the picture and you standing in front of them. Or that your hand could easily go cold and never be filled with Falco’s warmth again. 

But this time around, it strikes you too deep. That this kid, it was once Eren. That he did stand there alone and was probably so reminded of it everytime someone invited him to the vigil that he couldn’t even stand to come back. 

“Hey kid.” 

You look over to your side to find Levi, the other volunteer you’ve seen frequent these events with you, beckoning for you to join him at the side walls where the two of you always seemed to stand. Not that you were anywhere near the same age, Levi was considerably older than you, but the two of you were always in agreement. That everyone else should make their move for condolences before the two of you did. The adults, the family - they were all primary to the strangers like you and Levi. 

“What did you bring?” you ask Levi. 

“Salad.” 

“Boo.” you respond. 

He elbows you in the side, as the two of you sport your soft smiles, as you watch everyone line up in the front. 

“What did you bring? Cupcakes?” he responds, jeering at you. 

“Brownies.” you murmur. 

Levi laughs, and you elbow him back, as the two of you watch the two kids stand at the front, and lower your heads. It’s right at that moment, in the break of silence, that there’s a large clanging noise directly to your left. 

You and Levi turn your heads in unison to find Eren standing at the front, now awkwardly picking the trash can up. You can see Pieck at his side, mouthing a quiet apology as every returns back to their conversations, and she reaches up to tousle his hair. 

“Be right back, Levi.” you murmur, as you quickly pace over to the front where the two of them are still standing. 

You make it over to them fast, with Pieck folding down Eren’s collar, as the two of them look over at you and smile. 

“Hi guys.” you whisper. 

Pieck smiles wide, giving Eren’s cheek one last pinch before she reaches forward and wraps her arms around you. 

“Hi sweet girl.” PIeck whispers. 

“Hi Pieck.” you respond, putting your hands on both of their arms as you talk. 

“Thanks for coming.” you murmur. 

You immediately blank, realizing very quickly what you said. You’d hate to make Eren feel more awkward, to make it more of a thing than it was. 

“I-I didn’t mean it like that! I just mean-” 

“I know what you meant. It’s okay.” Eren responds, smile so warm that you immediately deflate. 

“I’m going to go make my rounds. Come find me if you need something, Eren?” Pieck states.

He nods, as you reach down and lock your hand with his and give him a reassuring squeeze. He abesntmindedly leans his head against yours, as the two of you quietly whisper under your breaths. 

“Hi Spider-Boy.” 

“Hey.” 

“I’m glad you’re here.” you murmur. 

“I’m glad you’re here with me.” he responds. 

You smile, as you lead him back to where you were standing, at the side with Levi. Levi gives the two of you a polite nod, as you brace yourselves against the wall again. 

“Eleven people ate my salad. Two people ate your brownies.” Levi states. 

“Okay, Levi. I’m so glad you’re keeping count.” 

“Hi Levi.” Eren states, holding his hand out. 

“Eren.” 

You pause, giving the two of them a weird look. 

“He’s friends with Hange.” Eren says. 

You feign shock. 

“You have friends, Levi?” 

“Very funny.” Levi responds, glaring. 

The three of you stand there for sometime, as you nervously fidget with Eren’s hands in yours and watch each of them consecutively give their condolences. The line eventually dwindles down, as Levi leads the way for the three of you to enter the line last. 

“Do you always wait till the end?” Eren asks. 

“Yeah. Just makes me nervous, the entire thing.” you respond. 

“So you wait till the last second until you’re a big ball of anxiety?” he asks, eyes narrowed. 

“Exactly! You just get me, Eren.” you respond. 

The two of you walk down the line, as you both stand in front of the two of them, and crouch on your knees. And you’re in complete awe of the fact that Eren’s so quick to talk, when you had been hyping yourself up to talk for the two of you the entire time. 

“Hi guys. I’m Eren. This is Y/N.” 

The two of them don’t respond, sharing a blank look, as Eren reaches forward, noticing the little pens on their lapels. 

“You guys are Spiderman fans, huh? I have something really cool to show you.” 

Eren stands up, gesturing for the two of them to follow, as you instinctively reach for his elbow and give him a look. Except in response, he reaches forward and presses a kiss to your cheek before he shuffles away with the two kids at his side. 

--

Eren reappears after forty-five minutes, with the two kids in considerably greater spirits and a big smile on Eren’s face. He gives the two of them a wave goodbye, which they both respond to excitedly, before they run off and Eren snakes his hand around your waist. 

“Hi stranger.” he murmurs. 

“You disappeared for quite some time, Eren.” you respond. 

“Had to do a thing.” he responds, shrugging. 

“Uh huh. You better have not done what I think you did, Eren.” 

He smiles in response, reaching forward to press a kiss to your cheek. 

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it. I want to show you something.” 

Eren locks his hand with yours, as he drags you towards the back, and gives you a shining smile as you walk into the back halls of the little community center. It’s dark and dusty in the back as you feel your nose immediately tickling at the dust and Eren drags you straight to one wall in the center. It’s filled with small printed pictures, each of them glossy and shiny, as the two of you stand facing it. 

“When my parents died, there was this guy who came to our vigil. His name was Levi. And everyone at the vigil, they kind of look at you with these really shitty, pity eyes. They aren’t exactly all pretty girls in pigtails who make really good brownies, ya know?” he states. 

You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder, as the two of you look over all the pictures. 

“Levi, he was the last person to talk to me. He told me this thing, a secret, that only people without parents know.” 

“What’s that?” you ask. 

He reaches forward to flick your forehead. 

“Silly. It wouldn’t be a secret then.” 

“Okay, okay. Fair. Keep going, Eren.” 

“Anyways, they take this corny picture of you at the end. With your family or whatever. And mine is….all the way right there.” Eren says, pointing to the top. 

You look up at the picture of Eren, standing awkwardly in between Pieck and Hange with a pinched look on his face. Hange and Pieck have him tucked into his arms, which he’s easily resisting, and the picture makes your heart clench so hard, that you hug him full on. 

“Eren. You’re so…” you look over at him, frowning at his soft smile at your side. 

“You’re sweet. Thanks for inviting me. This was…nice.” 

You wrap your hands around his neck, bring your hands up to his cheeks to brush the softness of his skin. You reach forward to press a kiss to his nose, which has him curling his face in response. 

“Really. I like being here now. With you. I got to tell all those old ladies that I had a pretty girlfriend that made the brownies. Show off a little.” 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

He shakes his head, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to your lips, before you walk back towards the main room. 

“Now where’s your dad? I want to talk to him about Spider-Man.” 

“I’m going to slap you.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll just gift him this.” 

Eren presses something hard into your hand before he shuffles off, right towards where your parents are standing. You look down in your hand to find the pin, the two the kids were wearing in your hand. You place it onto the collar of your shirt, before you stand up in join him, noticing that he has the other one pressed to his shirt as well. 

“It’s so nice to meet you. My name is Eren.” he states, extending his hand out, as you two lock your free ones together behind your backs. 

--

an: do not let me make this a series I swear to god

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters ​@itzmeme @cutiejg

[pandorias-box]

//might have gotten a little carried away with this one but whatever :) @from-ultra-space //

You wake up on the floor of one of the large indoor training facilities and feel pieces of your equipment slide off your chest. Given the sounds of your partner yelling out commands from the other side of the room, you hadn’t slept through all of her practice. Frankly, you were surprised she was still goi- Suddenly a bright flash of purple light consumes your vision and startles you. You flinch and quickly sit up. An attack, an Ultra Beast, you have to move. You scramble against the wall and feel the sharp pain of a screw digging through your gloves. It shocks you enough to calm you down though, and realize it was just a Dragon Pulse from Stinger. There is nothing here to fear, Cassius has it all under control. Now, you should get back to reassembling your tools before another screw hurts someone.

Time passes and your equipment diagnostics finish up. You were proud of yourself for being able to tune out Ulva’s training while you worked, really. Perhaps by becoming more used to being around battling Ultra Beasts you could be cleared for a longer mission to Terra. Your last trip was… well you still weren't quite sure how to describe that world. The main surprise was the prevalence of pokemon in the people’s daily lives. You didn’t think that your aversion to these creatures would prevent you from going on missions there but you liked to be thorough, and it seems the only way for a thorough exploration of Terra was with the close company of pokemon. You would have to ask Osmund or Cassius if they could help you set up a training plan of some sort to help. Speaking of Cassius, you can hear her calling out to you… She’s yelling… “Move…” “Nori, move…” You look up to see Stinger flying full force towards you. The world seems to slow as you watch a Dragon Pulse charge in the beast’s mouth. Cassius is yelling at both of you now, screaming and running as fast as she can to try and grab you. But she doesn’t make it. There is a second of searing pain before you find yourself in a similar moment.

It’s your first mission. You check you readout and find that the energy levels have drastically increased. Osmund had just told everyone to head back, so why was she yelling at you to turn around? What did the readings mean? Then, the air in front of you splits in two and you know why. A massive Buzzwole claws itself into the world and locks its eyes and attenne in your direction. Osmund is running for you, trying to tackle you to protect you from what’s coming next… but she never reaches you. The beast slams into you with its full weight and you yell in pain before the scene changes again.

Now you walk down the enclosed hallways of URS headquarters. You’re talking with a few of the older members about the recent tests being done on the Ultra Beasts Zossie and Dulse had helped capture. It was a bit of trouble getting them into the HQ and calming them down but now you were free to study their behaviors without the fear of them trying to attack you. Zossie was someone you looked up to, both of you being younger than many of your peers, especially when you started. Then, the sound of banging echos down the halls. One of the Pheramosa had been let out somehow and seems distressed. It stops right before it reaches you and everyone else in your group takes a few steps back. You were shaking. It was unpredictable, too fast to read, too strong to stop. Still, you knew about UB behavior. You had to calm it down, you had to do something. It shatters your right arm before you even have a chance to move out of your defensive stance.

The pokemon center is quiet, not even Tod is talking. Your heart is racing. You shouldn’t have agreed to this. You know you should help her but there is so much you don’t know. You’re scared. Still, you look up and meet Pandoria’s eyes. The sight of her new features brings back memories. A voice screams in your head to do something while another yells back that she would never hurt you. You stumble as you try to take a step back. But while you’re off balance the decision to trust or to flee is made for you. The feeling of claws digging into your side is unmistakable.

You are young. Much too young. You don’t recognize this moment. You can’t get a good look at your surroundings and you can’t seem to move. You’re scared. Unbelievably scared. You run backwards, afraid not just of something but of what you’ve done. You trip just as a blinding wave of red light rushes at you. And as you fall you hear your name being screamed and instantly know that you won’t hit the ground. The darkness consumes you and all the pain rushes back. You have to run. An attack could come from anywhere at any moment. These creatures are unpredictable. Dangerous. Run.  Run.   Run.

NGHAH! Ghh…

It is was not real…it did not truly happen…you were not there. But, there was actually one with you there. Just in someone else’s perspective.

Why here? Why now? Just when I thought I would escape memories of constant anguish…

Some of the people in those visions…I know them… And I may know whose nightmares these are. Stars above…the pain. The fear. I knew he was afraid of Ultra Beasts and I knew that these fears have not yet subsided, but now I know why to an extent.

Nori…how could I be so blind to fail to see the plights of an ally?

[nameification]

✄ ▵✎ for the fic ask game? for any of the questions where its pic a fic u can pick anything from anything youve written :3 (icb i just realized u rb'd the ask game from me when i literally saw and read ur tag on the rb...... im having a moment)

✄ what’s your editing process?

I very much am an "edit as I go" kind of person but honestly for the finished stuff I like leaving it alone for a few or so days and then when I come back to it I read through it and edit as I see fit. very useful for if I have been writing late at night and words made sense to me then but to anyone else they would not

▵ pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite line

hmmmm I'll go with something from a writing exercise I did right before re-auditioning for the school newspaper

The next day, three of them wake up banging at a glass wall, as Juno, the fourth, bangs his head against the wall, waiting for the three familiar voices in his head to stop talking.

the context is that this piece was inspired by the Chonny Jash CCCC album that I used as writing practice the day before writing staff auditions. the actual thing I wrote for my audition piece probably also has a few lines I really like but idk if my editor has it and idk where I can ask it from

✎ how do you think readers would guess a fic was yours if you posted anonymously?

if I had to guess I'd say it'd be how I write dialogue and also the way I structure some of my sentences. just guessing.

[f4irycafe]

feelin down??

characters: eren y. + connie s. + armin a.

summary: you’ve been having a bad day, but thankfully your boys are there to cheer you up

warnings: none. this is straight fluff.

request: nope

notes: i’ve been feeling down all day. so if anyone else is having a kind of shitty day, here’s this. i would also like to say that everything i write is written with college!au in mind!

if eren noticed you were having a shitty day he would have the biggest puppy dog eyes EVER, following you around ur apartment trying to figure out what could have possibly happened to make his pretty girl feel so down. it might be suffocating at first, but you know he’s doing it out of love, not to be annoying.

you might have to tell him you need space, or else he’d still cling to you like a child, but he won’t be upset if you do. he’ll probably find something else to do.

“baby you’ve barely talked to me all day. what’s the matter?” eren asks as you’re curled up in bed. you shrug, still silent as you twirl a piece of hair between his fingers. the sun is just beginning to set, casting a beautiful shade of orange onto the walls if your bedroom. he smiles at the action, gently kissing the inside of your palm as you continue your twiddling. “just had a weird day. i don’t know how to explain it. i’m sorry, i really don’t know why i’ve been so moody.” eren shakes his head at that, pulling you in for a painfully gently kiss as he holds you closer to his body. “you dont need to apologize. we all have bad days.” before you can offer a response, he begins to press delicate kisses to your face. they start off chaste and sweet, but before long he’s suffocating you under his weight as he practically laps at your face. your giggles are music to his ears as you try to push his overgrown body off of yours. “there’s that smile. know you had it in you baby.”

i feel like the only way connie would be able to tell if you were having a bad day is if you didn’t match the absolutely feral energy that he exudes all the time. even when he’s calm - still feral. and so are you, so it’s extremely out of character for you to get quiet and shut him out, not only for a few hours, but all day.

he gets in his head about it, thinking that maybe it was something he did to upset you. maybe he was too much, or said something earlier that hurt your feelings. he’d get so in his head about why you were upset he’d make HIMSELF upset too. accidentally, he’s such a sweet boy.

“con?” you call from your spot on his couch. he was banging around in the kitchen just a second ago, music blaring paired with the sound of his little mutters, practically drowning out the sounds from the tv. when you received no answer you called out for him again. assuming the worst you threw off your blanket, rushing to the kitchen to see if he was hurt. instead you found your boyfriend leaning against a counter, thumb in his mouth as he worked at the nail with his teeth. his eyes were staring straight ahead, oblivious to your presence. this was enough to shock you out of your funk, rushing over to connie and taking his large hands into yours. “what’s the matter?” you asked. his eyes widened as he looked at you. “what’s the matter with me? what’s the matter with YOU? did i do something earlier? i’m sorry if i forgot to pick up groceries or something i was busy. but i can,” you had to cut him off before he gave himself a heart attack. “hey babe, calm down. you haven’t done anything. what happened. talk to me.” he leaned his forehead against yours, taking a deep break before talking. “you were just so quiet today. it was weird … and scary. and i thought maybe i did something wrong.” you couldn’t help but smile. your big bad boyfriend with tattoo sleeves and too many piercings to count was tearing himself apart all because you were a little gloomy? adorable. “i was just … in a mood. it wasn’t your fault, it just be like that sometimes. yuh know?” you asked. “yeah, i know.” “good. now come out here and watch this with me.”

my sweet sweet boy armin <3 unlike the other two knuckle heads, armin is completely in tune with your emotional state. it’s weird, like he has a little armin tingle whenever his girlfriend is in a pissy mood.

he does all the perfect things without even being asked. if your lying in bed and refuse to get up, he’ll set the lights to your favorite nighttime shade, put on one of your favorite playlists, and bring you up an easily digestible breakfast. if you don’t wanna leave the house, he’ll make sure to turn on your favorite show/movie and make you some hot coco before going out by himself, promising to be back soon. your body is achy? misuse armin to the rescue.

“you tired love?” armin asks when he finally finds you perched in your favorite chair on the balcony. you nod, choosing to stay curled up like a cat as you watch the sun dip below the horizon. he bends down, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead before retreating back into the house. you assume that’ll be the end of his little visits, but unbeknownst to you your boyfriend is brewing you a lot of your favorite tea in the kitchen. after a considerable while he emerges again, not only carrying a cup of tea, but your half finished current read and favorite blanket. “here you go sweetheart.” you almost tear up at his sweet gesture, taking the tea from his hands and letting him wrap you like a burrito into the blanket. “thank you.” you mutter, taking a sip of the steaming drink with a content sigh. “anything for you.” deep down, you know he truly means that.

elles rambles: i need all of these men in my life rn. this just made me MORE sad cause i can’t hug each of them. ignore the spelling mistakes. it’s late and i’m deliriously tired 😪

[tacticaldiary]

Hey i love ur works omfg. They’re well written 😭 could u do one where dazai akutagawa chuuya kunikida say smth mean in an argument abt their s/o and it rlly hurts their s/o? To the point they dtop talking to the boys? But make the ending fluffy please wisjejeje

Too Far

Pairing: Reader x Dazai Osamu

Genre: Fluff

He usually knows when to stop, but the lines may have been a little oo blurred this time

This got a little long, so I just did Dazai, but I’ve decided to do the other 3 in 3 separate posts so I can make them long, fully fledged fics!

"You're not listening to me!" She exclaims, throwing her hands up in frustration. Arguing with Dazai was infuriating, from that mocking smirk to the calm demeanour he held, it was downright infuriating.

"I am listening, love. You want me to stop flirting with the new employee at our coffee shop." He smiles, and Y/N clenches her fists.

"Yeah, I asked you last time, and the time before that! I don't..." She struggles for a second. She knows he likes to tease her and she also knows that he would never be unfaithful. He's most probably doing it to get a reaction out of her, the bastard. She knows he likes riling her up and getting her jealous.

This time though...she doesn't like it. Not at all. the way he had looked at that woman was a little too similar to the way he looks at her all the time and Y/N can't help but start comparing.

"You don't what?" He tilts his head to the side, almost mockingly. "I can't help that she's such a beauty, y'know?" Dazai sighs and Y/N feels cold all of a sudden. She stops running her hand through her hair, letting it drop to her side.

“I mean those eyes! You should have seen them, my love, they-” the rest of his sentence is drowned out by her thoughts. Did he really think that? She shuffles on the spot, letting her gaze drop to the floor. If Dazai really like her so much...and she was pretty now that Y/n thought about it...

Lost in her thoughts, she fails to notice the mischievous look in his eyes, clearly toying with the idea of riling her up and making her jealous. 

“Honestly, we should go back there together later-”

“Go by yourself.” She interrupts him, finally looking up. Dazai’s smirk falters at her shaky voice, and he pauses completely at the unshed tears in her eyes. 

“If you think she’s so beautiful, go ogle over her yourself.” She exclaims, before turning on heel and marching back to their room, shutting the door behind her. Dazai watches as she storms off. He hadn’t expected her to...blow up like that. 

“Darling?” He calls out, frowning when there’s no response. He gets up and moves towards to the door, grabbing the handle to open it. It’s not locked, but the door doesn’t open. Y/N was sitting against it, head between her knees.

“Leave me alone.” She mumbles, before lifting her head and speaking a little louder. “Go back to that barista you love!” Her voice is choked with tears and it makes Dazai’s heart squeeze uncomfortably. 

“I-...love, you know I would never leave you.” He presses his forehead to the door. She would open it eventually, and then he’d sweep her off her feet, shower her with kisses and everything would be fine!

The door doesn’t open for another 2 hours, nor are there any more responses to his words. 

Dazai ends up sitting against the wall next to the door, mildly worried. He’d messed up. He should have seen how upset she was getting. He sighs and gently bangs his head on the wall behind him. He almost misses the slow creak of the door opening. 

Almost. 

“Y/N!” He scrambles to his feet as she startles, not expecting him to be there. She attempts to run back into the room, but Dazai sticks his foot though the door, preventing it from closing all the way. He pushes it open and enters, clicking the door shut behind him.

Y/N has chosen to take a seat on the bed, farthest away from him. She doesn’t react or move when he sits next to her slowly. 

“Some scare you gave me there.”

Silence. Ah, so this was how it was?

“I did say she had pretty eyes, didn’t I?” Y/N looks taken aback, that upset look that he so despised coming back. “And her smile is pretty attractive, isn’t it?”

Was he serious? Did he like making her feel like shit? Y/N furiously fights off tears. She remains silent, turning her head away from him, stubborn.

He hums. “Nothing compares to what I have, though. Her eyes are murky and dull compared to your gorgeous ones.” He shuffles closer. “Her smile is practically a frown when compared to the way yours takes my breath away, my love.” A little closer. “And pray tell,” Y/N’s red in the face and wide eyed, not expecting the way this was going. What was happening?

“Why on Earth would I want someone so shallow and dull when I have more than I deserve right here in my arms.” His arms do indeed snake around her, pulling her into his lap. His breath puffs against her neck when he speaks, sending a shiver down her spine. 

“Beautiful.” He presses a kiss to her collarbone. “Ethereal” another peck moving further up. “The light of my life.” Her cheek.

“I’d be a fool to ever let you go.” He kisses her, loving and sweet and Y/N finally breaks, melting into the gesture, her hand coming up to situate itself in his hair. When they break apart, she buries her face into the crook of his neck. 

She mumbles something and Dazai chuckles, running a hand up and down her back, soothingly.

“I apologise. You know I love riling you up. I may have taken it too far.” he admits, a sign that he really did feel guilty. 

He never wants to be the cause of her pain, no matter what type it was. 

- 

(18/08/2021)

[lord-explosion-baku]

Trident Tale

Merman!Shinsou x reader, Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: adult themes (Minors DNI)

A/N: read the prologue on AO3

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

(Original image by @maewoahoah)

Synopsis: Moving to an island where everyone is big on the surf scene and other oceanic happenings might not have been the brightest idea for someone so afraid of anything that has to do with water, but you make do by spending your days looking after the Bed & Breakfast, trying not to burn the house down when you fry a few eggs, and obsessively scrolling through Eijirou Kirishima’s social media page. He’ll never notice you, and you think you’re fine with that, until a mysterious force washes into Ms. Shuzenji’s pool after a particularly nasty storm.

Hitoshi Shinsou is a pain in the ass from the get-go, but you put up with him, fins and all, when he promises he can help unite you with your soulmate. The catch? The fish is hellbent on taking back what was stolen from him, and he won’t lift a gracious finger until he gets what he came for.

You’re helpless to lend him a hand, so long as you stay dry. Unless, of course, he has other plans.

You know how the saying goes: you rub his fins, he’ll rub yours.

Storms have never really been your cup of tea. Though you keep yourself locked inside a good percent of the time, there’s nothing quite as suffocating as the compress of clouds overhead. It’s not like you always have to see them to be uncomfortable, but you definitely feel them pressing down, closing in, and caging you, even when you’ve got yourself tucked under a blanket on Ms. Shuzenji’s couch.

It’s been a little over a year since you first moved to the island. All you needed was a new beginning, and you got that, but you got that, and the tropical weather that you’re still getting used to. It’s currently typhoon season, and holy seaweed-on-your-doorstep, is it storming.

There’s little you can do to distract yourself while staying and working at Shuzenji’s bed and breakfast. There are currently no guests, aside from you, so all the rooms are made, and the old lady is on another one of her long vacations, so you’re basically being paid to lounge. You’re grateful for that, at least. But the only thing that’s keeping you physically separated from the terrifying weather is a thick glass pane that water sloshes on every time a wave laps over the backyard walls.

The things that separate you mentally are the old-timey recordings of Shuzenji singing alongside an ensemble cast, and the little device in your hand. If you didn’t have your boss’s haunting melodies echoing throughout the house, and some big, beefy, tatted eye-candy to gawk at during the storm, you’d surely go insane.

Eijirou Kirishima, one of the island’s best surfers, is out on his board, live-streaming his current fight against the waves. His whoops and hollers can be heard over the crashing tides, getting even you excited for what’s about to come. That’s the thing about Kirishima; he’s wild, you’re not, and it’s hot as hell. Oftentimes, you catch yourself daydreaming about joining him out in the surf—he guides you through the waves, maybe yoou impress him a bit with your sudden affinity for wave-riding, and the two of you wash up on shore where you’ll both share your first kiss. It would be feasible if you could swim. It would be feasible if you bothered to learn how to swim, but for now, you’re content with your imagination. At least he can make you hate the terrible weather a little less.

The conspiratorial smirk he shows the camera is borderline swoon-worthy when the swell begins to pull him further out. It’s impossible not to bite your lip every time you catch a glimpse of his arms forcing themselves through the sea. He makes this look easy—like the storm is child’s play, and as the winds blow Shuzenji’s trash bin into the sliding glass door, you welcome the delicious distraction.

As Kirishima stands up on his signature trident board and rides one of the biggest waves he’s seen all day, you’re once again struck with how much of a coward you are. He can fight the elements, while you can hardly bring yourself the courage to talk to him. Mind you, he’s constantly surrounded by a close group of friends—a close group of friends you find intimidating—and when he’s not with them, he’s out in the water. Where there’s water involved, you’re spoken for. Unless, of course, you’d like for the first time you guys actually speak, to be when he’s giving you CPR.

Not the most ideal “meet cute”, but if it works, it works.

A loud crash snaps you out of your admittedly salty daydream. Mango, Shuzenji’s orange tabby, yowls at the blanket of water cascading down the windows, and your stomach sinks. There’s only so many minutes you can pretend that the storm Kirishima is facing isn’t the one that’s destroying Shuzenji’s yard.

With a sigh, you roll off the velvet couch, and grimace when crumbs that were nesting in your shirt fall to the carpet: a mess to clean up later. Without any guests to mind, you don’t have to worry too much over keeping the place spick-and-span, so long as things are nice and tighty by the time the old lady gets back, which will be awhile.

You have an easy enough job—at least, when there aren’t bunches of thick seaweeds crashing over the yard’s wall, flooding the pool.

“Shit.”

Water sprays in every direction. The already trash-infested pool overflows as more kelp rolls in with the maniacal waves, and angry, white foam bangs on the back door. It's a disaster outside, and you’re not sure what to do about it.

Fingers wrapped around the back door handle, you struggle to think of a way to prevent a bigger mess, but even if you could manage to clean anything, nothing is stopping the tempest from wreaking anymore havoc. Best case scenario, you stop a plastic soda-chain from washing out to see and becoming a deadly necklace for an unlucky seagull. Worst case scenario, you slip, crack your head open on the pavement, and drown before you can ever utter the words “mahalo” to Kirishima.

Needless to say, you’ll take your life over a gull’s any day.

Another sigh.

A greater wave collides against the wall, bringing more of the Great Unknown into the pool. This is going to be a fun job to clean. Good thing you’ve got Shuzenji’s service boy, Denki Kaminari, on speed dial. You think if you sound particularly distressed in the morning, he’ll show up to help you out with just about anything in the matter of minutes. God bless desperate fuckboys.

So, for now, you cuddle back up on the couch, watch Kirishima shake saltwater out of his thick, red hair, and pretend that his storm is not the same thing as your storm.

It’s early morning when you finally rise out of bed. You hadn’t gotten a whole lot of rest—something to do with the wailing winds shaking your bedroom window nonstop, but after you finally drifted into dreams about snakes and dragons, you woke to clear skies, and light seagull calls.

From the second story, you can see early birds have already gotten the jump on cleaning up the beach. The sun is shining, the ocean blue and vast. The only trace there was ever a storm is already being taken care of. There are lifeguards riding around on ATVs and younger civilians with trash bags and grapplers picking up seaweed and absconded debris. The respect everyone has for the island is something to be admired, and you half-consider going out there yourself, after you’ve dealt with your yard, which is sure to be a wreck.

There’s no interest in picking out a cute outfit for the morning you’re going to have, even if Denki might see you, so you throw on a already-worn-this-week crop top, some pink shirts, and you’re good to go.

The first thing you do after Mango’s fed is check your socials. Kirishima posted a picture of his breakfast: a hefty plate with three eggs, sausage links, bacon, cut avocado, and what seems to be low-carb toast. The post reads, gotta eat ur gainz 2 gain ur gainz, and it’s so ridiculous that you’re infatuated with this reckless himbo. You wonder if you’d ever be able to hold an intellectual conversation with him, if you could ever manage to speak to him in the first place, but conversation wouldn’t matter if his mouth was between your thighs.

Following his example, you crack two eggs over a frying pan, sigh at the mostly empty fridge, then agonize over the state of Shuzenji’s yard. It’s worse than you thought it’d be. The pool is a sickly green color, and from where you’re standing inside, its murky depths seem to be almost opaque from the seaweed and garbage stewing together. Kelp litters the beige pavement, and there’s trash hiding in the shrubs. There’s a chocolate donut floaty bobbing around in there, too, and Shuzenji doesn’t own any floaties.

What a drag.

Before you get too far in your head about everything you’ll need to do to clean up, you quickly dial Denki’s number. He picks up after a ring and a half.

“I know what you’re about to ask,” says the boy on the line, and from his cocky tone, you can assume it’s not going to be about the cleanup. “I am absolutely free tonight. If you wanted to grab drinks at the Salty Barrel, maybe go on a romantic rendezvous out on the beach, watch the sunset on or in a couple blankets, I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’m not calling to ask you on a date, Kaminari,” you say as you step outside. The pavement is cold underneath your bare feet, and you have to tip-toe around to be sure not to let any kelp touch your skin. Yuck.

“But you’re not, not calling about a date, either,” he counters. By the volume of his voice, you can tell that he’s in his van, talking to you over the speaker. Good. So he’s already out and about.

“I need you to tell me how to drain Shuzenji’s pool.” Call you cold, but you’re used to Denki’s flirty nature by now, and you’ve learned that the best way to deal with it, is to not acknowledge it. Of course, you can’t be too callous when it comes to him, especially when you actually need his help. You eye the dangerously complex-looking valves off to the side of the house, and grimace. “There’s too many twisty thingies! I’m not sure what to do!”

“Now, hold your horses, little lady! Don’t go twisting any thingies just yet. Draining a pool is a process.” There’s a long pause, the loud growl of an engine, then silence. He’d pulled over to talk to you. “How’s your TDL? And what kinda PVC pipes you got?”

“The huh and what?” You don’t need to pretend to be in distress—you have no idea what he’s talking about.

“Listen, don’t touch anything. You’re calling because the pool’s a mess right now, right? You don’t need to drain it; at least, not yet. I can swing by in an hour or so to clean it, but I’ve gotta make some stops first. You’re not the only single woman who wants to watch me do my thang, especially not after yesterday.”

“It’s so bad, Kaminari.” The water in the pool sloshes around, like there’s actually something in it causing the water to ungulate and burble. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“Don’t worry your pretty, little head over it. You've got me, okay? It’s my job to protect and serve.”

“You’re not a cop.”

“Nope, I’m better than a cop. I’m a pool guy.”

He goes on to ask you to check out what kind of drain the pool has, if you can find the drain, then loses you when he starts talking numbers and gallons. While still on the phone, you send a few texts to Shuzenji, explaining the predicament, then Denki mentions rates. You’re getting the cutie pie discount, doubled because he counts Shuzenji as a “cutie pie” too—something you mention to her because she’ll get a kick out of it—then he drops all business to ask about food.

“I’m cooking my breakfast,” you say with a wary glance back at the house.

“But is your breakfast fries and a shake from Tiki Burger?”

You bite your lip as your stomach growls its empty sorrow. “No.”

“Would you like it to be?” His knowing grin is heard through the line.

“…I’m not gonna go out with you.”

He chuckles and you’re grateful that he can’t see your answering smile. “We’ll see how you feel after you see me work my magic. And hey, if you’d like me to wear a Speedo while I work—“

“You’ll be here in an hour?” You cut him off, because Denki in a Speedo is the last thing you need on your mind. The thought of Kirishima in a Speedo, however, gets you a little hot, which is saying a lot, since you’re a part of the Speedos and Dolphin-shorts Are Abominations To Swimwear belief system.

“Maybe sooner. I think my next client just needs me to check out their chemical levels. Inside pool and all. Everyone else knew to put a tarp out.”

The tarp you had blew away, but you don’t bother explaining that to Denki. Let him believe you’re the dim-witted “little lady” he wants you to be. If it means Shuzenji gets a discount, not that she can’t afford any bill Denki’s company throws at her, then let him believe you can’t open a pickle jar without a man’s help for all you care.  

“See you then,” you say, and end the call. There will be time to work on your charm once Denki gets here. Until then, you figure you could do some investigating so you’re not completely helpless.

Leaving your phone on the pavement so you don’t accidentally drop it in the water, you make your way around the pool to where you think you remember the drain being. You can’t say you’ll know what kind of drain it is, but if you remember correctly, it’s circular, and like, kinda meshy? That description simply won’t do.

Dropping down to your knees, you peer down into the pool, squinting, as if that can help you see through all the muck. There’s definitely a lot of kelp and algae, sand drifting through the water, someone’s wayward brazier, and oh. A school of fish—little babies circling about. It’s wild, but you suppose it could be possible if all the chlorine washed out and there was enough salt water to sustain marine life.

The fish move together, bopping into each other, mouths gaping open to eat whatever they find in their temporary home. You don’t know enough about marine life to know what kind of fish they are. Silvery little things. Maybe Denki has something that can help transport them from the pool to the ocean. It’s not far—Shuzenji’s house is on the beach. It would be a shame if all the little fish had to die. You don’t particularly care about touching or feeding fish, but a life is a life, and if they can be saved, you��d at least like to try.

But all your thoughts of saving fish life stop when you catch something moving in the water. It’s not the fish—they’re not that big, but it’s definitely fishlike. Fish plus. It moves like a shadow, serpentine and fluid. You catch a glimpse of scales, so it’s definitely not a dolphin—even then, it’s bigger than a dolphin, and more graceful than a shark. You begin thinking of leviathan, and other mythical creatures, as ridiculous as that is, when you see a long flowing fluke.

Okay. This thing is not just big. It’s gargantuan, and to see this much of the creature without seeing its head makes your skin crawl. You imagine falling in and being swallowed whole, suffocating in the dark, drowning in a monster’s belly.

The thought spooks you static, just in time to meet a pair of eyes in the water. This is your overactive imagination—you’re scaring yourself insane, but you don’t look away, and those eyes, almost human and curious, don’t disappear.

You’ve consumed enough media to know how these impossible interactions go. The creature is inquisitive, but keeps its distance. It often has to be coaxed out of hiding, and even then, the thing is skittish and untrusting. You’re certainly not one to go “pspsps, hey little guy, I’m not gonna hurt you,” but even if you were, you don’t get the chance, because this thing you’re looking at isn’t the least bit skittish, and in one second, you’re making eyes at at it, and in the next, the thing is exploding out of the water.

A large, broad chest towers over you. The thing pushes itself up with arms, human arms, but it’s anything but human. Sure, it has hair, although an odd purple color, framing its angular face and jaw, which are both human enough. Also framing its face are a pair of long, pointed fins sticking out from where human ears should be. Water dribbles down its chest, down to its navel—its navel. Your brain screams mammal, but underneath its navel are scales, rippling down to where its legs should be. Not human. Not fish.

Fish plus.

Man.

Fish plus man.

Fish-man.

Its eyes are almost the same color as its hair, only a shade lighter, and much sharper, narrowed in on you. It’s glaring. You realize this at the same time you realize that you're staring at it with your mouth agape. This would be so rude in any other setting. It’s also rude to pop out of a pool that isn’t yours without any other warning, but you’re not about to chastise the thing. You’re far too scared.

Then the thing reaches out to you, sprinkling water on your thighs and your shirt. Its hands look like a man’s hand, but its long fingers are connected by thin, indigo webbing that matches its tail. Its tail. You lose focus trying to find the word for this creature that’s barely on the tip of your tongue, when you realize the palm of its hand, its fishy, webby hand, is hovering over your cheek, the other carefully placed next to your knee to keep it upright.

You open your mouth to speak, but only a hiss comes out. The creature, wary, brings its hand back, but only slightly. Not enough to put you at ease, but enough to allow you to gain your composure, and scream.

“H-help!!!” You screech. “Help! Somebody! Help me!”

It claps its hand over your mouth, knocking you back. Water drips down on your shirt as it leans in, mouth curling up with distaste. Then, it does something impossible.

It speaks.

“So loud,” it growls in a low, masculine timbre.

It speaks, you think, it speaks and it has no manners!

You try to yell back, probably something with little thought, but you have a mouth full of fish-man hand, and the more you warble in its palm, the more apathetic it appears.

“Be quiet and still,” it commands, as if obeying it is supposed to be the most natural thing—something it expects from you. It catches you so off-guard that you actually listen, only trembling a little bit as those indigo eyes scan over your form. It’s uncomfortable having an unknown but cognizant creature observe you so closely. You shiver when its gaze roams over your belly, down your legs. You want to curl your legs up, move away, but you’re afraid if you even twitch more than it’s comfortable with, it’ll grab you and drag you into the pool. Your nightmare.

Instead, it does something slightly less worse. It moves its hand from your mouth to your cheek. The palm of its hand warms your skin in an unnatural way, like you’ve been laying in the sun for half an hour and it’s only your cheek that heats up. The creature's eyes widen as light begins to emanate, either from you, or from it, you’re not sure, but definitely from where it touches you. Tingles run from your neck down to your spine, and you wish you’d put a bra on before going outside, because this thing’s touch is making your body react in a way that it shouldn’t.

“So easy,” it purrs appraisingly, somewhat less insolent, but you’re still taken aback, ears hot with embarrassment.

Un-fucking-likely.

“Easy?!” You squawk out. “What do you mean by easy?”

It doesn’t answer you, and instead, moves its fingers from your cheek, down your jaw, to your chin. It begins leaning closer, heavy lids closing. You notice its lips for the first time: a defined line and a pretty bow. If you were in a less dire situation, you’d be able to admit that they’re very nice lips, but they’re getting closer to you, closer still, and you realize with a jolt what it’s trying to do.

Your foot meets its chest in a heartbeat.

“Nope!” You belt out, extending your leg so there’s more distance between you and the impolite beast. “Not today, fish-breath!”

Unperturbed, it lifts a lazy brow. Then, to your absolute horror, it presses both of its hands into your bare leg, and again you’re lit up, warm, and tingly, only far worse than before. Stomach tightening, you make a choked noise, trying to hold in the sigh that claws at your throat.

“Fish-breath.” It repeats your insult like it’s a balled-up piece of paper to be thrown in the trash. “I’ve been told that my aroma is quite appealing.”

“By whom? Other fish-breaths?!” You wriggle your leg out of his embrace, or whatever you could call that invasion, only to have it slip down so your foot rests in the fish-man’s hands, bright as the stars in the sky. “Eww ew! Don’t touch me! Get away!”

The creature scoffs, but let’s you go, and you both watch as the light disappears from the arch of your foot where he’d been touching. Fish-man slinks back into the murky water, hiding under a blanket of algae.

You have enough time to gather your composure, wipe the water droplets off your face, and rub your eyes. For a moment, you try to convince yourself that this has all been a sleep-deprived hallucination, but you’ve never really been one to delude yourself, unless your Kirishima fantasies were involved, and you know that you’ll have to try another tactic to accept the reality of your situation. Perhaps you can try to be civil with this creature, ask it if it’s…hurt, or if it needs a late night escort to get it back to the sea. But then, the thing resurfaces on the opposite end of the pool. It faces you, and leans back against the wall, arms spread out against the pavement, basking.

“You know,” he says, “your decorum is severely lacking. Don’t humans have classes that teach them proper etiquette—how to be more polite towards their guests and such?”

What’s lacking is your patience for marine life.

Standing up, you take in the thing, which you’re now pretty sure is in fact a man of sorts, in its entirety. His tail is long, longer than human legs, extending past the halfway mark of the pool, if your measurement counts his fluke. There’s a golden cuff on his right arm that spirals around, accentuating his large biceps. You stubbornly admit that it’s attractive—he’s attractive, at least, he would be for people who were into fish and not surfers. You brush whatever you’re feeling in the pit of your stomach off by telling yourself that you’re simply awestruck, and move on.

“Where I’m from-“ you begin, straightening your sodden crop top- “we offer our guests various beverages and snacks, depending on the time of day.”

Annoyingly, he looks interested.

“Since it’s the morning, I’d offer a guest tea, or coffee, and if I’m looking to impress, I’d maybe cook them a hot meal.”

The creature offers you a sardonic smile. “I happen to be famished.”

“However, with home-invaders, we’re more likely to pull a gun on them before heating up the earl grey.”

He loses the smile, and you’re glad that he might have an inkling of what a gun is. You’ve never owned one, and they don’t allow firearms on the island, but the threat stands. But if he was intimidated, even for a moment, he doesn’t show it anymore, and proves just that by turning his back on you, and resting his head in his arms. He has a dorsal fin with what looks to be a deep, x-shaped scar near his tailbone. You try not to wonder what that could’ve been from.

“Then how do you propose I go from a home-invader, to a house guest?” Asks the creature with little interest.

Cautiously walking around the pool with your arms crossed, you begin to list things off for the far-too-comfortable fish-man.

“You can start by telling me who you are, what you are, why you’re here, what you want, and why you think you can lay your webbed hands on me.”

“Oh, is that all?” He hums noncommittally. Content. Aggravating. “Why don’t you start then? Who are you, and why are you here?”

The back of your neck grows hot and uncomfortable. “How entitled do you have to be to—!” You start, but you’re swiftly cut off by the shrieking of the fire alarm. Smoke plumes from outside the house’s windows, and you curse under your breath before darting towards the door. You’d completely forgotten about your eggs.

In your haste to move the pan off the stove, you burn your fingers and drop the pan to the kitchen floor, two blackened egg crisps flaking off and diving in different directions. Mango yowls at the commotion and investigates one of the fallen egg crisps. Before you can tell him to buzz off, he loses interest in your mess, not bothering to give it a taste. You don’t blame him, but the eggs didn’t appear to be cat-bad. Ah, you can’t kid yourself. They are cat-bad. They’re completely inedible. Now you’re going to have to head to the market, while worrying about a man trapped in Shuzenji’s pool.

Your stomach roars at you.

After cleaning the mess as best as you could while desperately and ruefully wanting to return to your guest—no, not guest—invader, you get the alarm, half-heartedly fan the smoke out of the house, and return. Angry. This guy better start talking soon, or things are going to get ugly.

To your utter displeasure, he looks all the more amused at your newer, messier state.

“Was that supposed to be the hot meal,” he asks, cocky. “Because if so, I’ll pass.”

Instead of biting his head off like you’d like to, you present him with the still-dirty frying pan, pointing it at his head like you intend to use it.

“Start talking, fish-for-brains.”

The beast snickers, raising his hands in the air in mock-surrender. “Easy there, tiger shark. You know how to use that thing?”

You refuse to humor him. Instead, you keep your scowl tight, your arms steady. If he’s not threatened, he’ll lose interest in this game, then he’ll have to talk.

Lo and behold, you’re right. The fish-man rolls his eyes, and looks at you, again, with apathy.

“My name is Hitoshi Shinsou,” he says, lackadaisical, like he’s already bored of himself. “I’m one of Ryūjin. What humans have learned to call merpeople are actually descendants of the sea gods who lived centuries ago. I’m here, simply because the storm washed me here. What I want is to retrieve what’s mine. I thought I could lay my webbed hands on you—well-“ the corner of his mouth tilts up-“darlin’, it was because your body reacted to me.”

Mouth forming the beginning of a question that never comes, you stare in disbelief at this myth. Then the last thing he said dawns at you.

“I did not react to you!” You rebuke, steady hands now shaking.

“Oh no?” He says, but it’s not a question. It’s a challenge.

Hitoshi grabs the flat end of the frying pan and yanks it, and you, closer to him, closer to the water. You cringe and whine when a wet, webby hand closes around your wrist. Inadvertently, you drop the pan, but he pays it no mind as it sinks past his tail. Your skin begins to glow underneath his palms, and the tingles come back, shooting up your arm, causing tiny goosebumps to appear.

“Would you look at that,” Hitoshi croons, slow and almost sensuously. His indigo eyes narrow on your index finger where you’d burned yourself. To add to this nightmare, he closes his lips around it, and begins to suck. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if it’s because you’re disgusted, or scared, or…enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth, his tongue, touching your skin.

“Stop.” It’s a whisper. It means nothing. You think you want it to mean something, but your thoughts are buzzing into a blur. Knees growing weak, you descend, leaning closer to him, not caring about the water or the seaweed or the fish, and instead, entirely focused on his mouth. It’s glowing, his mouth. Faintly. Like a single candle lit in an otherwise empty room.

When he eases off of you, he runs his thumb over your now-healed finger, and let’s your arm fall limply at your side.

“All better,” he whispers back at you.

There are prickles all over your skin once you regain an ounce of dignity.

“What the hell was that?” You ask, breathless for no other reason than shock.

“The glowing?” He asks. “The healing?”

“Both.”

“Your reaction to me.” He’s cocky again. This is something sick. Mythical creature or not, this has got to be a game he plays, washing into people’s pools, causing problems, sucking on lonely girls’ fingers. He probably gets his kicks this way, and uses whatever other kind of magic he has to erase whoever he’s tormenting’s memories, if he doesn’t end up eating them when he’s done. Bogus.

You won’t let him get to you.

“Alright, Hitoshi Shinsou, how would you like me to get you back into the ocean? You healed my finger-“ although it’s essentially his fault you were burned to begin with, if you take into account the sequence of events-“so helping you out is the least that I can do.”

“I could use your help,” he muses lightly, turning his body back around to his chest and abdomen are turned towards  the sun. You tell yourself not to stare like you know he probably wants you to. Though his eyes are closed, he peeps at you, sneaking a glance. “I don’t want to go back into the ocean, though. Not until I get what’s mine.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and scroll through her phone, you swallow your bite, and ask, “what would that be?”

“Oh, this and that-“ he waves his hand around dismissively-“other things.”

With the might of a girl who just wants to go back inside and find another frying pan, you say, “alright, listen. Someone is on their way to the house to clean the pool. I don’t know what one of Ryūjin means, but I’m guessing people like you don’t always want to be discovered by people like us. So you either tell me what it is you need, or see how my pool guy reacts to a mermaid lounging around in my backyard! I wouldn’t put it against him to call the local news station. Get this place flooding with cameras. Does that sound like a pretty picture to you?”

Absolutely none of your threats penetrate Hitoshi’s cool nature. In fact, he laughs.

“When he gets here,” the merman drawls, knowing he’s got you hanging on every word, “invite him to swim.”

[dourpeep]

you asked for albedo stuff yesterday and i forgot to give you some 🥲 here

-Albedo bites the ends of his pencil/pen while in deep thought

-He covers his mouth while laughing

-His hair is a huge problem to becoming messy so he usually keeps it in one style bc he sucks at styling hair

-I believe he would hyperfocus on a meal until he starts to hate it and goes onto another

-Probably sleeps on his back or stomach

-Quietly sings to himself when he's alone doing experiments

-his hands are probably soft as hell

-he probably bounces his leg when stressed

-I cant decide whether or not he's always cold or always hot (wearing his jacket everywhere but seems fine at dragonspine??)

-would break klee out of jail

-he always tries to have at least one meal with klee

WAIT SHIT I FORGOT ABOUT THIS--

definitely a pleasant surprise nodnod always a treat to have more Albedo, thank you for the food, Chi OTL

I'll write a little about each one b/c I have no self control and I'm feeling inspired by ur headcanons so lets goooooo ehehehe

They'll be a mix between imagines and drabbles!

Enjoy the food :3c

Contains: Albedo x gn!Reader, some standalone Albedo, Klee, fluff

-

- Breaking Habits -

"Albedo? You're doing it again-"

He blinks, shifting to remove the tip of his pencil from his lips, frowning when little indents come into view.

"Hm...it appears to be so."

Really, the Chief Alchemist has tried to wean himself off the habit, taking to coating the butt ends of his writing utensils with a horrid concoction of qingxin and jueyun chili, but the moment he slips into his usual daily tasks, it arises once more. The bitter spiciness is a taste that he still has not forgotten.

When his brows crease and his gaze seems to burn into the pencil, you offer a smile. With a kiss pressed to his temple, you take it from his loose grasp, setting it down on the table's surface.

A few weeks later, it dawns on him that the touch of wood to his lips evokes the memory of your gentle reminder. Without fail, he sets his pencil down in search of a sweet to busy himself with instead.

- His Laugh -

I can just imagine him with his hand lifted to cover his mouth, a smile tugging at his lips and his eyes slightly squinted. It's something that'd happen almost instantaneously--he doesn't intend to hide his smile but for some reason he can't help but do it.

An endearing habit that you've come to look for.

Regardless-

If you lower his hand and pepper him with a few little kisses, you'll get another giggle out of him before a kiss.

- Hairstyles -

Albedo only knows two ways to do hair: Klee's twin pigtails and his own half-up braid.

Over the past three years of his residency in Mond, it's become a sort of trademark. The assumption that it's just how he likes to style his hair has long since been accepted as truth--and really, he does prefer the style.

Though...

"Mr Albedo? Perhaps you should try to tie it all up instead...?"

The stray wisps of bangs that escape from the securely tied braid fall into his face and distract him from the task at hand. There's also the ever-present tickle right where the blond locks fall around his jaw. Surely, this shouldn't prove to be a problem considering he always has this style...right?

Needless to say, the smell of singed hair makes him choke and the Alchemist finds himself pulling away to tie his hair properly.

It's simple.

Or at least that's what he has been stuck repeating like a mantra as he stares at his reflection, unhappy with the way there's a strange bit of hair that refuses to stay tied. Sighing, he undoes his pony tail and tries again.

Hm.

No, now it's lopsided...certainly can't have that.

- Mealtime -

First, two little ears peek up above the surface of the counter besides him. Then, two little eyes belonging to a stuff rabbit toy followed by a red hat--

"Klee?"

The little girl stares at the fish steaks sizzling away on the pan, displeasure on her features despite the incredibly enticing smell. With unmatched resolve, she huffs.

"Big brother, Klee doesn't want fish again-"

Ah, right.

He's been in another of those moods, the particular taste and texture of the fish mingling with the salted butter, simple sauce, and lightly seasoned veggies sounding so much more appealing compared to nearly any other dish he's tried to enjoy in the past two weeks. It's without a doubt Albedo's all-time favorite dish. Perfect for someone with a small appetite and a need for something quick, filling, and nutritious.

"What would you like then?"

Ultimately (and truly, Albedo wasn't surprise), the little knight requested a serving of 'Fishy Toast'. Cutting up one of the fillets he'd fried, he laughs and shakes his head.

- Sleep Time -

When you come home, it's already dark, the streetlamps lining the cobbled road illuminating the front door as you fish out your key.

"Albedo? I'm back-"

Soft snoring punctuates the silence.

With a fond smile, you remove your shoes and make your way to the make-shift 'sleep station' set up on the couch. Sure enough, with his face shoved at an awkward angle against a pillow, Albedo lays on his stomach holding a second pillow to his chest.

As much as you'd rather not wake him (after all, he's barely gotten sleep over the past few days with how busy it's been), you kneel besides the couch to gently shake him awake.

"Bedo? Bedo, lets go to bed-"

He shoves his face further into his pillow, muttering something about waiting for results. But the silence that follows only lasts so long until he sighs and opens his bleary eyes.

"Welcome home," he mumbles, carefully shuffling best he can closer to meet your lips.

With a stretch and sigh, he sits up. Blond hair sticks up from the top of his head and to his cheek, some parts tangled despite his attempts to prevent it--your hair shouldn't tangle if you sleep on your stomach, right?

Holding back your laugh, you help him up so that the two of you can get ready to sleep.

- Singing -

Most often if not nearly each day, if you pass by the Favonius HQ's workshop, you might catch the soft sound of singing. A light sound that drifts from the partly-cracked door echoes into the empty hallway. Regardless of the traffic outside, it shows no sign of stopping, so you easily can sit right outside and listen.

It's not shy, though, even as the man's dulcet tone comes out gently, and there are days that the lyrics that slip from his tongue are of other regions.

Perhaps if you ever approach the Chief Alchemist, you might be able to convince him to sing just a short little tune. He'll oblige, though a soft dusting of pink will cover his cheeks as he does.

- Hands -

"My hands?"

Albedo watches as you tug off his gloves, head cocked to the side curiously. The moment his hands are free from their confines, you press a kiss to his palm and intertwine your fingers.

"Do you use lotion or something?"

He laughs.

"...Not that I am aware of...?"

When you squeeze his hand once, he squeezes yours back three times before bringing your joined hand to his cheek. Resting against them, his eyes close.

"Why do you ask?"

He feels you take his other hand as well, turning it over palm-side up, your fingertips tracing over the lines that adorn it's surface.

The tenderness of your touch is enough to make his heart stutter in his chest.

"Mmm...no reason."

- Leg Bouncing -

Whenever Albedo bounces his leg sitting at the Dragonspine workshop, a curse or two will slip out the moment his knee bangs against the wood.

Even being considered short, the table has decided to lay just low enough for him to cause minor injury to himself.

Shaking his head, he rubs at his knee to rid himself of the dull ache before continuing his observations at hand.

- His Jacket -

Wait okay but like...what if he actually has different versions of the same jacket? They look virtually the same but there's some of lighter material for warmer days, 'standard' ones for day-to-day use, and heavier ones lined with warm, soft fabric to insulate heat when he's on Dragonspine.

Same with his tights. I do know for a fact that there are tights lined with fleece that are incredibly warm and comfortable!!

- Escapees -

"You need to be very quiet, alright?"

Once more in the dark of the night, Albedo finds himself awake within the walls of the Favonius Headquarters.

Now...Klee technically wasn't grounded, so technically escorting her out of the so called 'solitary confinement' wasn't against any rule. To be fair, the room itself also wasn't really that either, judging by the child-themed decor, soft bed, books littering the floor, and the little table that sits just off to the opposite side of the room.

So! Albedo was certain that there wasn't any harm in what he was doing.

Not that he wasn't still sneaking around on his little improvised rescue mission.

He looks back to Klee, the little girl now wide awake and hanging on to his hand tightly.

When the morning comes, he sighs, crouched sitting on one of the child-sized chairs in the solitary confinement room, Klee peacefully snoozing in bed.

If only Jean wasn't pulling an all-nighter last night as well.

- Very Early Breakfasts -

Klee wakes up to the smell of sweet berry jam and chocolate in the air.

Clumsily, she slips out from under the covers with Dodoco cradled in her arms, padding along the wooden floors on her way to the kitchen.

"Big brother...?" She rubs the sleep from her eyes waiting for him to turn around.

"Oh, good morning Klee-"

"What time is it?"

That, Albedo decided, was a very good question. Especially considering that he hadn't yet gone to sleep and instead shuffled through the kitchen in the early hours of the day to make pancakes. If he had to guess--and he took a quick peek out the window despite the darkness of the early morning lending no clue--he'd say it was nearing 4am.

"Early. Go ahead and sit down, breakfast is almost ready."

The plate is presented to her with a brilliant smile, the Chief Alchemist satisfied to be able to keep his promise with her to always share a meal. But...the fluffy pancakes and freshly made whipped cream were also a source of his brightened mood.

Even though he knew he'd have no time to sleep and pack for his next Dragonspine expedition, the lack of sleep was worth seeing the sudden widening of eyes and delighted giggle from his younger sibling.

He could always take a quick nap at the base camp, anyway.

[sleep-i-ness]

Wrong Door (Sirius Black x reader)

Synopsis: Your roommate wakes you up in the middle of the night because she can’t get into the flat. Or so you think. (Muggle AU) FOR MY 500 WRITING CHALLENGE

A/N: do not follow what reader does in this in real life. IF SOMEBODY PASSES OUT DRUNK AND DOESN’T WAKE UP, CALL AN AMBULANCE (usa people i don’t know what you do. call an uber to the hospital?)

WARNINGS: Alcohol, really shitty first aid, swearing

BANG! Y/N bolted upright. Fuck, were they being burgled? She checked her watch, groaning at the time. It was 3 in the bloody morning and she had an 8am class. She swore lightly under her breath; she’d clearly fallen asleep while studying on the sofa, a textbook on her lap and an empty bottle of wine in her hand.

She wasn’t one for going out in middle of the week, unlike her roommate Marlene, so being woken up in the early hours of the morning was a common occurrence. Usually Marlene would just stumble back into the apartment, tripping over everything lying in her way. Tonight, she had clearly decided to break the fucking door down.

Y/N heard a key fiddling at the door, and she sighed. That was when the pounding on the door started. Time for her to go help Marlene out.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she grumbled, extracting herself from the cocoon of sheets and cushions.

The banging didn’t lessen, and Y/N groaned as black patches clouded her vision momentarily. Mentally reminding herself to grab some water on the way back from the door, she trudged over to the hallway, propping herself against the wall for two seconds as she swayed slightly. Her fingers clasped around the latch and she pulled it, swinging the door open.

“You’re not Marlene.”

“You’re not James. Did he bring you over or something?” The brunette stranger rambled, pushing past her as he stumbled into the apartment. Y/N was too taken aback to protest at first, watching the man walk in as if he owned the place. “You can close the door, y’know. I didn’t bring back a girl this time because James said he’d literally kill me if I kept him up again. What a hypocrite.”

The man reached out to hang his jacket on an empty patch of wall, staring at it blankly when it fell onto the floor. He tried again, feeling for a hook that didn’t exist and Y/N watched him confusedly from where she stood by the still-open door.

“What on earth are you doing in my flat?” She found her voice at last; his audacity was astounding!

“Your flat? Love, just because James brought you over once doesn’t mean you can start claiming our stuff,” he seemed almost affronted, slurring his words as he let his jacket be on the floor. 

“No, this is my flat that I share with my roommate Marlene. Who the fuck is James? And, more importantly, who the fuck are you?” Y/N had to admit, she was getting a little riled at this point. This drunk man had just waltzed in and begun claiming the place as if she didn’t exist.

The man opened his mouth to protest before taking a good long look at the coral walls and pictures that hung all over them. He closed his mouth, paused, and turned to look at the hall table with their tatty fringed lampshade and geometric-print table runner. Y/N could almost hear the cogs whirring in his brain as he stared bemusedly at the room.

“Fuck. This isn’t my flat. Where am I?” He seemed honestly and completely confounded, scrunching his face up.

“You’re near Kensington, we’re a few roads back from the high street and the market. This flat block is number 48-53?” Y/N gesticulated as she tried to explain where exactly her apartment lay.

She was too busy explaining to notice the queasy expression spreading across the man’s face. He shoved back past her to stick his head out her door and promptly throw up all over her front step. Disgusting. And she was going to have to clean it up! He swayed back and forth, before collapsing backwards, narrowly avoiding falling feet-first into a pile of his own vomit. Y/N contemplated just leaving him there and shutting the door on him. But she knew deep down she’d sorely regret it if any harm came to him because she refused to help him. It wasn’t the dodgiest of areas, but the nights were bitterly cold.

“Hey,” she tapped him on his shoulders, calling upon her memories of first aid and how to deal with a drunk person. He didn’t stir, even as her taps got harder and she decided to take her chances and slapped him straight across the face. She gasped as a red handprint bloomed on his cheek, yet he still didn’t wake up. Hand still stinging, Y/N grabbed his arms, heaving as she attempted to pull him inside. Managing to pull him into the living room, she gently rolled him into the recovery position, ensuring that he was still breathing and that he wouldn’t choke on his own vomit. A dead man in her living room would be difficult to explain to her flatmate.

Y/N trudged to the kitchen, dragging her feet along as she pinched her eyelids to try and keep herself awake. She just needed to grab a glass of water to help with tomorrow’s inevitable hangover and a blanket for the drunkard. Somehow, she managed to complete the task, leaving her standing over the man now covered in her biggest blanket. She knew that she should go back to her room, but it just seemed so far, her legs protesting at the thought of moving an inch. Besides, the blanket was big enough to cover the two of them without having to even touch each other, right?

Sliding under the furthest corner, she quickly curled into a ball, eyes drifting shut before her head even touched the carpet.

:.

Waking in the morning, Y/N nuzzled further into the broad arms wrapped around her, sighing as she breathed in the stale scent of cologne and whisky. Her head pounding as she tried to recall the events of the night before that had led to her in a man’s arms. She startled, bolting upright as she remembered the drunkard who had stumbled through her door. And now she was in his arms. Fuck.

Seeing the man afresh with sober eyes, Y/N stopped to appreciate that he was actually really fucking attractive. It didn’t excuse him trying to break into her flat, but it helped, now knowing she’d cuddled him all night. God, that was embarrassing. How was she ever supposed to explain to the guy on the floor or Marlene what had happened. Slipping out from under the blanket, she tiptoed into the kitchen and slumped against the counter.

Coffee, she needed coffee. Then she could think about what had happened and how to sort out the man passed out in the living room.

Y/N filled the kettle up and spooned out the coffee granules into the cafetiere, frowning when her hand came into contact with air rather than her favourite mug. Fuck. It was still dirty from last night, probably abandoned on the table with her textbooks.

Meanwhile, Sirius groaned as he twisted under his covers. God, his head was aching, and his back was incredibly sore. Remus was going to kill him if he’d pulled a muscle; he was meant to be helping him move on the weekend. His mattress was uncomfortably lumpy; he knew he needed to get a new one, but he’d been putting it off. The bobbly fabric scratched his skin as he stretched out, flexing his fingers.

Hang on. Bobbly fabric?

Sirius cracked an eye open, flinching at the bright light. As his eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight streaming in, his heart rate picked up. This was not his apartment. He was pretty sure they didn’t have such awful, tasselled cushions or green lace curtains.

Did he-? He glanced down, releasing a sigh of relief when he noticed he was still fully dressed. Okay, so not that drunk. So how the hell did he end up here?

“Here.” A girl stood in the doorway, an unimpressed expression on her face as she offered him a steaming mug of black coffee. “I didn’t know how you liked it, but I have milk and sugar if you need.”

Sirius nodded, still trying to process how he’d got here. She stared at him, waiting for something. He quickly backtracked the conversation in his head. “Oh, no, I’m good, thanks.”

He sipped at the scalding liquid, face contorting into an expression of pain as it scorched his tongue. His eyes trailed over the girl, surely he’d remember someone this gorgeous. “So,” he winced, “how did I get here?”

She pursed her lips, as if she’d tasted something sour. Okay so that had been a bad question to ask.

“You barged into my apartment, claiming it was yours, threw up on my doorstep and then passed out.”

Oh fuck. His head spun as it tried to remember the events of the night before. He did recall somewhat throwing up, but it was a blurry flash. “Sorry about that.”

She hmphed, stacking some scattered sheets on the small coffee table and collecting up dirty crockery. Sirius swallowed the coffee, grimacing at the awkward atmosphere. Funnily enough his parents had never bothered to teach him the etiquette for accidentally bursting into the wrong flat and passing out.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he fished it out, glad he didn’t have to feel the pressure of breaking the silence anymore.

JAMES: Where are u?

JAMES: When I said don’t bring a girl back I didn’t mean go back to hers

JAMES: Ur boss called. I said you were feeling under the weather. He said u should get over ur hangover & get into work

REMUS: Why did ur boss call me to ask if we went out last night? I said no btw

JAMES: He called again; said he’d fire you if you didn’t turn up before 11. I told him u were properly ill and I could send him a pic of the thermometer. I think I got you out of that one

JAMES: Mate, I’m getting a bit worried

Shit. When was that last one from? Okay, 11:15 and it was now 11:34. Sirius tapped out a reply to James, unsure how much detail to go into. I’m alright, be back soon. Yeah, that would do. He really couldn’t deal the endless mocking yet, once they’d found out what had happened they’d never let it go. So that would be saved for when the pounding headache had finally settled down.

His phone binged again. JAMES: We’re out of milk can you grab some on the way back?

Sure.

Sirius got to his feet, groaning as the room spun, beige walls all blurring into one. Rubbing at his face, he stumbled towards the kitchen, empty mug in hand.

“Hey, sorry, I don’t know your name.” He leant against the door frame, body sagging. God he was exhausted.

“Y/N.” Her tone was bitter, and Sirius couldn’t help the pang of guilt shooting through him. She’d probably stayed up all night worried he’d attack her or steal something.

“Well, thanks for the coffee, Y/N, and for not leaving me on the doorstep. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

He placed the mug down on the counter and slung his leather jacket on. She smiled at him, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes.

Y/N trailed him to the door, holding onto it as he stepped out, raising a hand goodbye.

“Bye.”

“Thanks, bye.” Sirius watched the chipped door swing shut, sunlight glinting gold off the battered number on the door. Hm, Number 51.

:.

Y/N groaned as the doorbell went. She’d just got settled into her studying. “Marlene, did you order something?”

“No. I’m broke.” Marlene yelled back, sticking her head out of her room. Her makeup was half done, mascara brush in hand and dress round her hips. “I can’t answer it like this!”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’m on it.”

She tipped the papers onto the floor, ignoring the mess they made. Future her could tidy that up. Trudging to the door, she grabbed her phone off the table. So that was where she’d left it.

“Hi,” she nodded at the delivery guy. He was holding a large bunch of flowers and Y/N bit back a sigh her eyes. Probably from another of Marlene’s boys. Honestly, she was thinking of opening up a flower shop, considering the amount of flowers Marlene’s newest was insisting on sending.

“Hi, I’m looking for,” the delivery guy scanned the list on his clipboard, “Y/N?”

She froze. Huh. “Yeah, that’s me.”

He tucked the clipboard under his arm, passing her the flowers. “These are for you. There’s a card with it.”

“Thanks.”

Y/N shut the door, staring at the bunch of vivid blooms in confusion. Who on earth would have sent her these? She racked her brains for any possible romance in her life, but nothing came to mind. With her luck, it was probably her grandma or something. Not that she’d be upset by flowers from her nan but a mystery lover was much more interesting.

She pulled out the gilded card from where it was tucked into the side of the paper, scanning the words.

Sorry for breaking in and passing out in your flat, princess. Text me if you want to go for drinks at some point: +44 7xxx xxxxxx

A smile broke across her face. Maybe she’d take him up on his offer.

-

-

all hp tags: @missmulti @acciotwinz @1marvelavengers1 @samnblack @neymarlionelmessi7 @okkulta  @gredandforge @onestela@yourenotafailureoverall  @milkshakelol

sirius black tags: @holybatflapexpert @methamphetaminee @thefernandasantana @uglipotata72829 @cheapglitter @lozzybowe @persephonehemingway @blisfvlll @mads-bri @fific7 @electrasworld666 @ccosmic-illusion @anniewhoiam @20coldhearts @imcreepininyourheartbabe @whointhehellisbucky @isntmadrid @blackblossomqueen @wheezyreads @tugabooos @atomic-chickenwings @its-evita-here @inkandpen22 @Rue-123  @emilianamason @mesmerisedalien

[yandere-sins]

hi hi! can i request “envelopes” and “dates” from the prompt list for yan!muriel from the arcana? luv ur writing btw :3

Hi! Thank you so much ♥ I had to alter the prompt a bit in the actual writing since it just wouldn’t have fit Muriel as it is, but the meaning stayed, so enjoy!

Envelope - “It doesn’t hurt too much does it sweetie? Oh dear, I hope I didn’t tie you up too roughly.. God knows your skin is glorious.”

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

Leaning his back against the entrance of the hut, Muriel took a long, deep breath, but it was impossible for him to calm down.

What he had done... he couldn’t explain that to anyone, not even himself. It was your fault! He had to do it, seeing you wandering the streets late at night, drunk and beyond careful about who might approach you in one of the dark alleyways. Muriel only wanted to keep you safe! And now he had to tell himself that as much as possible so that he wouldn’t go mad over his own actions.

But that didn’t justify him taking you back to his home. It didn’t justify him holding your hand as he pulled you along and carrying you in his arms through the wood as if you were a fragile gem. You might have dozed off just now on his bed, but how would he explain it to you in the morning? That he took you away from the city and brought you back here where only he would have you and no one else? God, how would he explain that to Asra?

There was no way he’d keep you with him for as long until Asra came to see after him, right?

Looking down at his hands, he remembered how warm you were when he still held you. The sweet fragrances mixing with the harsh scent of alcohol coming from your lips, Muriel remembered it all! He should have just brought you back to the store, but when he passed the entrance, he couldn’t bring it over himself to let you go already. This was the closest he ever got to you, mainly because he never wanted to be this close to you!

But he dreamt about it, and now it became reality.

No matter how much he tried to deny his infatuation, he could never lie to his subconscious mind. He explained it to himself that it was just a favor for a friend as he watched you go on with your life, but the same friend surely wouldn’t have asked him to bring you to his hut. Muriel didn’t want company; he didn’t want anyone to know about his presence! But he wanted you, badly.

A sudden, loud bang tore him out of his thoughts, and he rushed back into the hut, worried about the unusually loud sound in the quiet forest. There you were, turning over onto your side on the ground, groaning in pain. Muriel had never... seen you so careless before. Even with a growing annoyance towards Asra, you never acted out even if he left you alone so much. In fact, this was the first time Muriel had seen you go out and drink the night away, too, ever since you were resurrected months ago. And now you were on his ground, muttering to yourself and moving like a newborn foal, very awkward.

“I have to go home,” you finally addressed the matter that seemed to have been on your mind ever since you woke up. “Asra--” your sentence faded out as you tried to stand up once more, staggering to your feet before falling towards Muriel, who caught you last minute. “Asra will come back, and I have to be there.”

“You can’t,” Muriel said sternly, his voice deep and firm as always, but inside, his heart was pounding. “Why not?” you complained loudly, even Inanna’s ears peaking up sharply at the sound. “I-It’s dark, and we are in the middle of the forest--” he tried to explain while you threw yourself around and out of his arms.

“No, I have to go home!”

It was your final declaration as you walked by him, and Muriel was sincerely surprised that you even had the strength to attempt pushing him out of the way. His whole body felt tense, yet there was something indescribably satisfying in having held you again, a prickling on his skin left from your warmth. It was quickly fading as you left, but his mind remembered it too well by now.

You managed to reach the door before one of his big hands clasped around your upper arm, pulling you back. There was no chance for you to actually fight your way out when he gripped you, and to Muriel, his actions were justified. It was late and dark. You didn’t know the way, and who knew what would await you out in the wilderness. Muriel was responsible for you. He couldn’t let you go.

No, he could never let you go.

You made his heart flutter so much, and for once in a very long time, he felt so alive chatting with you, touching your warm body, and taking care of your intoxicated state of being. He suddenly cared less and less what you’d think, and even if the thought of Asra still gave him a stomach ache, he’d find a justification as to why he’d keep you here a little longer. Or he wouldn’t talk at all to neither you nor his friend and resolve the matter as quiet as ever.

Pulling you back onto the bed, you groaned a little as your body hit the mattress. It was questionable if you were in pain or if it was just your dizzy mind making you feel everything overly intense. Only then Muriel noticed the heavy pants he was making, already fearing that he had used too much power on you.

It was hard to control himself again. For years he had been so careful to be tender. To not frighten or worry anyone with his presence. But now that you were here with him, there were so many emotions he lived through in so little time. It grew harder and harder to concentrate on his thoughts rather than his impulses.

While you were still trying to recover from the shove, Muriel stepped away from the bed, approaching something he had banished from his sight a long time ago. Just like the shackles attached to his body, there were still a few chains left that he took off when he found the right tools. He had never disposed of them, and perhaps, he had waited for this day to use them again. Never had he thought he’d willingly want to touch the cold metal of these chains again, yet, Muriel searched for them hectically, their rustling making every person and wolf in the room look up.

“It won’t hurt,” he muttered as he returned to your side, kneeling down. Your eyes began to widen like a deer seeing the arrow flying towards it, and you cowered backwards, caging yourself against the wall on the side of the bed furthest from him.

Slinging the chain around the bed foot, you realized in horror that he was going to chain you to it as he looked up, meeting your eyes for a second before reaching for your hand. The hints of a blush crossed his face, but you were too scared of what was happening to notice it. “N-No!” you screamed, but his hand was too big to escape it, his reflexes still sharp enough to be able to grab you while you pulled away from him frantically.

“I won’t hurt you,” he tried to assure you as he brought your hand towards the chain, the cold iron coiling around your skin painfully. “O-Ow!” you complained, wide awake now and hoping to catch some mercy from him. But Muriel only bit his lip as he tightened the knot before moving to the lower bed foot to repeat the process. “Please no!” you began to stammer, kicking your foot against his palm as he reached for your ankle next. “I won’t hurt you,” he repeated, but it was more to calm himself than you, your antsy-ness getting to him.

“P-Please...” tears shot into your eyes as you had to watch on helplessly, wondering why this was happening and what he’d do to you. After securing your ankle shackle, Muriel stood up again, unable to stand up straight under the low ceiling of the hut, but enough to tower over you. You seemed to lose your ability to speak from the fear, your mouth opening but no sound making its way out.

Shutting your eyes and turning your head as his hand approached your face, you felt his thumb wipe away the tear from your eyes, and Muriel couldn’t help himself from licking it off his finger. As if he didn’t know how tears tasted, but in reality, he was just curious how you tasted. “It doesn’t hurt too much, does it?” he questioned, his voice a low rumble from above you.

Looking up at him, Muriel managed to snap out of the trance he had been under, instant regret spreading through him. “Oh no... I hope I didn’t tie you up too roughly...” he feared as he knelt down again, fingertips brushing over the chains as he pulled on them, suddenly feeling an immense urge to tear them off you again, only for his hand to linger on your arm, an unnoticeable gasp escaping him.

“You’re so... soft...” he whispered as if Muriel had never touched another human before. Was it because in the back of his mind, he knew you had died before? Or was it just so amazing because it was you he was touching?

“L-Let me go!” you demanded, your hope slimming that he’d free you as the small moment of lucidness seemed to fade again. “So warm,” he muttered as his rough, calloused hands drew up your arms until he reached your face again. Muriel wasn’t even looking at you, he was simply following the trail of his touches, a realization crossing him:

He really, really couldn’t let you go.

So, he wouldn’t.

[cocobutnochanel]

Roommates | 18+

Genre: slight fluff, smut, roommate!Chanyeol

Main Characters: Park Chanyeol x Reader (oc: fem)

Summary: Your brother's bestfriend, the wrong pill and empty threats could never be good news. Your life turns 180 degrees around when you drink medicine impulsively.

Warning: profanity, sex scene, drug intake

Kink List: unprotected sex, bondage, restraints, drug intake, verbal degradation, creampie, aftercare, daddy kink, daddy!Chanyeol, dom!Chanyeol

Word count: 3.3k+ words

You wanted to bang your head against the wall. Integral calculus was so goddamn hard to learn and you hated how it's included in your courses when you majored in political science. It didn't make sense and the book in front of you didn't too.

You let out a huff and try to comprehend it since you aimed for a perfect GPA this semester.

The door swings open "Hey, dumbface." A familiar voice disrupts you. "What do you need, frat boy?" You hiss, not even bothering to turn around to look at him. Even his presence alone annoys you.

"Stay out tonight." He snickers, shutting the door behind him. "Can you not have sex while exams are going on? I'm trying to study." You whip your head and glare at his smirking face.

"Don't test me, I can tell eomma you're dating someone in uni." He was threatening you with bullshit like this again. What more, you know your mom loves him so much and she'll believe him.

You roll your eyes at him. "Eomma? She's my mother, Chanyeol, not yours. I'll tell her you're fucking with the entire population of Seoul instead." You look at him incredulously while he smiles with amusement in his eyes. He loved pissing you off, you had no idea why your oppa and eomma let you share a dorm room with him.

"You wouldn't do that to your oppa." He cooed at you mockingly. "Oppa? You? Fuck off, Yeollie." You flip him the finger while he cringed. He hates his childhood nickname.

He finally heads out of your shared dorm room and you return to reading the book. Park Chanyeol was a rodent who never left your family alone ever since he met your big brother, Jongin, in pre-school. Like Jongin who was his best friend, he loves pissing you off too. He even has his own room in your house and calls your mother 'eomma'.

You finally resumed studying after he heads out. After a few hours of reviewing calculus over and over again, you decide to sleep for your last day of exam tomorrow.

-

You wake up and notice Chanyeol's top bunk empty and unslept in. He must be with his whores, you assume. You hurriedly get ready and head to your first exam of the day.

The day passed by idly, occupying you with three exams and integral calculus being the last. The moment you got out of the classroom, your head ached. Fuck math, honestly.

You get back to your dorm room and see that Chanyeol still wasn't home despite it being 2 in the afternoon already. You shrug that thought off and text him instead. Your headache bothered you more than your brother's manwhore best friend not coming home.

'frat boy do u have tylenol ?' You text him.

'aww, uri dongsaeng is sick xx' He responded in a heartbeat, dying to tease you since exams were over.

'fuck you where are ur meds' You reply as your vision blurs even more. You couldn't afford to deal with his bullshit. Your head was killing you now.

'my nightstand. be home in a sec w/ food' He finally texted you back. You groan as another pang hits your head, telling you to let go of your phone. You curse integral calculus for giving you this pain.

You pull the drawer in his nightstand. You see condoms of different variations and that disgusted you to the core. Safe sex should be practiced but to need this amount of condoms? He sure does love sleeping around.

You see a white bottle with a red label in the far corner. You couldn't read the label but your head throbbed even more, making you grab that bottle out of impulse. You take it and drink a glass of water.

The sound of the door opening reached your ears as you laid on your bed, trying to rest. "Hey, you okay?" Chanyeol's voice was worried but the pain you were feeling made you snap at him. "Don't talk to me. I'm about to die." He laughs about what you just said and teases you with "That's good news."

A few minutes later, you were expecting the drowsy feeling to take over but unfortunately, it didn't. Your head was still in pain and it wasn't letting you sleep. You wince at an intense pang again.

"Are you sure you took Tylenol? You should be knocked out right now." He comments when he sees you still suffering. "I don't know anymore, fuck. All I know is that the pain is going away." You groan but now, the pain was slowly diminishing.

Few more minutes again, the throbbing stopped but you felt kind of hot. "Holy shit." You hear him mutter.

"What now?" You ask him with a grimace, fanning yourself. Heat now taking over the pain you felt earlier. "You took the wrong bottle! You're so fucking dumb, I swear." He shrieks. You never saw him freak out before which is why I was alarmed.

He holds up a bottle and you cover your mouth as soon as you saw it clearly. "It was my horny pills, you dumbfuck." He said with a flabbergasted face. Well, that explains the heat.

You didn't know why or how but you were aroused when he called you 'dumbfuck'. It wasn't the first time hearing this insult from him but it set you on fire right now. The pill made you feel things you don't feel when you're not having raging hormones.

"B-But, w-why do you even have them?!" You tried to distract yourself from the feeling but it only heightened. This was wrong on all angles. He was your brother's best friend! There was a reason why your mother trusted him to be your roommate! You weren't supposed to feel things like these!

You feel yourself get wet down there. "Fuck." You breathed out, his eyes glued on you while you lay in your bed with a defeated face. He sat across you with knitted eyebrows and an angry face.

"Yeol, get out!" You scream at him before you lost your sanity. You were getting wetter by the minute. "Are you sure you're gonna be okay?" Even his concerned voice sent you over the edge.

Without thinking, you stand up and sit on top of him. "N-No.. Jongin's gonna kill me." His voice was raspy and sitting on top of him made you feel the growing bulge between his legs.

"What happened to the brave frat boy?" You whispered against his ear, your hormones getting the better of you. You start dry humping on his thigh as he closed his eyes in frustration. "Y/N, you know we can't do this." Desperation dripping in his voice.

You roll your eyes at what he just said. "Yeollie, be responsible. This was your fault." You purred, the libido inside you growing. He bit his lip in response.

"God knows how much I want to but Jongin will kill me. You know that, Y/N." He pleaded but you knew he couldn't resist seeing you like this, like a thirsty bitch for him. "Please don't make this harder tha-" You cut him off with a hungry kiss.

He was stunned and he couldn't move but your hands travelled down to the hem of his shirt. You took it off, your lips still on his. He was defenseless under your kiss. Soon, he kissed you back gently too.

His tongue ran down on your bottom lip and you moan his name. His erection was now as hard as a rock and you liked it like that. Especially when it was between your legs too.

His mouth hungrily darted down your neck. You knew he was leaving marks but you couldn't care less. He was finally returning the passion you were feeling. This was his fault, all along.

Your hands held onto his locks as he devoured you on top of him. He couldn't meet your eye. He knew he wanted you but it was wrong. Jongin was your brother and he was his best friend. It was wrong but it only made the two of you want it even more.

His hand clutched your thigh as he nibbles on the sensitive skin of your collarbones. "Yeol." You call out to him, desperately wanting for more. You take off the pullover you had on and he couldn't help but stare in awe.

"Beautiful." He breathes out, his face meeting your hot chest. He unclasps the bra from your back and as it fell to the floor, his hands immediately replaced that warmth.

He massaged your sensitive breasts as he let his mouth play with your chest. You could only moan in agreement.

He managed to slip hand inside your miniskirt. His fingers found your wetness, your back arching at the contact. "Yeol!" You scream in surprise the moment he slipped a digit in. "Wet enough.." He whispers.

He gets up and throws you on the bed. He pulls his belt out of the skinny jeans he was wearing. You gasp when he ties your hand above your head, tightening the belt around it.

You were left in your skirt and that turned him on. You and you were good girl ways, he thought. He pulls your soaked panties down with a satisfied grin, his eyes never leaving yours.

He goes down on you, his hot breath on your pussy. You writhe under his warmth as you buck your hips forward to meet his lips. "Nah-uh. Wait." He whispers breathily.

You exhale in frustration. He felt your desperation and flipped you around, positioning your knees on the bed. "I said wait." He growls as you feel his palm smack your buttcheek.

You bite your lip as the impact made you wetter. You were sure you were dripping down there and the pill you took didn't help either.

Another smack hits your bottom and the sting it inflicted made you moan out loud.

"Jesus, Chanyeol, put it in already." You begged desperately. He puts two digits inside which made you hungrier.

You feel your insides clench around his fingers as he scissors his way in. He was a cruel fucker and you loved how he likes you at his mercy.

"Beg for it." He bellowed above you, fisting a handful of your hair.

Pride wasn't your priority right now. Your priority was your need for him inside you. "Please, daddy, put it in." You sigh, letting all your pride go down the  drain. You hated him but now, you're begging while calling him daddy.

You turn your head around to see him but his erection was now out and it tensed at your nickname for him. It was itching to be inside you too.

He finally pulls out his teasing fingers. Positioning his 9-inch cock on your entrance, you moan audibly. "Daddy, please." You beg once again.

He slides it in as you felt your insides stretch at his size. Tears welled up in your eyes as pain intensified down there. “I’m not even fully inside. Wipe your tears, slut.” He hisses, his fingers diving into the sides of your hips out of frustration.

“So fucking tight.” He comments, feeling up every inch inside you. You could only groan in response as the belt on your wrists restrained you from moving.

He pulls out a bit and starts thrusting in a rhythm. “Yeollie.” You moan out loud as he took you from behind. “What did you just call me?” He spat, thrusting stops abruptly.

“I-I’m sorry, daddy.” Your voice was powerless. Just like how you are right now, kneeling as you call your brother’s best friend ‘daddy’.

“Good.” He starts ramming it inside you again. Your eyes deliriously rolled as he thrusts into your G-spot again.

You weren’t a virgin but you didn’t sleep around as well. You only had sex with the guys you were in a relationship with, hence, why you were so tight. Despite lacking experience that Chanyeol had, it was a no-brainer that this was your best fuck.

After simultaneously hitting your spot, you notice his pace quicken. He was about to come. “D-Daddy!” You screech as his hot liquid filled you to the brim, your own juice gushing out of you too.

You were weak as you slump back on the bed. He wipes you down there, making sure you were clean. He was a monster while doing the deed yet he was so domestic when it was over.

He took his belt off your wrists as you lay on your back, bare and sore. He plants a soft kiss on your lips as if it’d make up for how he tired you out today.

You thought you were through but another wave of heat hit you again 10 minutes later. He plops on your side after that and tries to cuddle you but that only ignited your desires once again.

“Yeol...” You moan into his ear as his arm drapes over your bare waist. “Do you want to go at it again?” He asks like a puppy as if he hadn’t made you beg a while ago.

“How long does it wear off?” You ask, referring to the pill. “I don’t know but usually half a day, I guess?” He shrugs, still cuddling you.

“Are you serious?! Does it mean I’m gonna be like this for twelve fucking hours?!” You grit your teeth. “Relax, I’m willing to help as long as you let me. Also, I’m sorry for that earlier..” He says with sincerity dripping from his voice.

“It was the first time I was ever like that. I just got carried away cause it’s you, I guess.” He looks at you with puppy eyes while his hands inch down towards your pussy that was now wet again. For him.

“What do you mean cause it’s me?” You ask him with a shaky voice, feeling his middle finger against your clit now. “You know you’re attractive. I just didn’t make a move cause I know Jongin would kill me.” He chuckles.

“Hmmm.” You hum which makes him look at you. “I guess I’m flattered, daddy.” You mischievously grin as he bites his lip at the nickname.

-

You wake up with sore thighs and a cooking Chanyeol. You lost count of how many rounds you had with him and he had the guts to look like a husband the next morning. He looked so domestic in a plain white shirt and an apron. He didn't look like the frat boy that he was and it was the first time you saw him in that light.

You get up and he whips his head around. "Good morning.." He greets you with a bright smile as if he wasn't the reason you could barely walk now.

Your feet meet your dorm room's cold hard floor and you walk to the dining table. He serves the breakfast he prepared: fried eggs, pancakes and bacon.

"You look so domestic, it's disgusting." You comment on his bright toothy smile when he placed the food in front of you as if he was some husband serving his wife. "You wish. As if you didn’t beg last night to be cuddled." He winks at you, pulling the chair across.

"There's the frat boy I know." You roll your eyes at his laughing figure. "By the way, eomma texted me the train schedule for today. You have to get ready by 9." He reminds you, his mouth full of pancakes.

You only nod at him, sipping the coffee he prepared for you too. You two finish breakfast while bantering about little things. You wanted to ask him about last night but then, you were afraid it'd make things awkward.

You dismiss that thought and get ready for your trip back countryside. Exams were over which meant it was already summer. Suncheon was only 3 hours away from Seoul but you only went home during school breaks.

You change into comfortable travelling clothes. Chanyeol has a designer hoodie on as if he was some idol in airport fashion. "You picking up girls from the train too?" You snicker judgementally.

He lets out a hoarse laugh. "You jealous?" He smirks and runs a hand through his blonde hair. "You wish." You glare at him and head out of your dorm room with a luggage in hand.

He follows you, his luggage with him too. You two head out to the train station nearby and buy a ticket to Suncheon.

You settle in beside him and sleep for the rest of your 3-hour ride. Last night's strenuous activities tired you out. Drowsiness took over you as Chanyeol leaned his head on your shoulders, slowly getting addicted to your natural scent.

-

You wake up to Chanyeol drooling on your shoulder. You were now near so you decide to wake him up. You were reminded of your question earlier too.

"Yeollie, you’re drooling." You tease him but he only hummed in response, trying to rub his eyes. But suddenly, you wanted to ask him about last night. Were you just an easy fuck? Or were you dating him like how you did with your exes? You weren’t really one to sleep around, you remind yourself.

"W-What does last night mean? Should we act like it never happened?" You ask with a thumping heart. You were scared that he'd say you were just another fuck. Despite your denial of ‘liking him’, rejection scared you.

"We're here." He grabs your hand and lets you up when the train comes to a stop. "Wait, Yeol. Answer me." You say in a weak voice while he dragged you out. Instead, it looks like he just shrugs your question off.

You spot your eomma and oppa waving. Jongin was smiling when he saw you and his best friend. You had no idea he was gonna be here but you were happy. You haven't seen him in so long.

"We missed you!" Your eomma runs to you and Chanyeol, hugging you two. You only smile at her and Jongin who was behind him too.

"Dude!" Jongin greeted Chanyeol with a man-hug. You roll your eyes at their bromance. "Dumbass." Jongin ruffled your hair while you only whine in response. “Oppa, cut it out!” You shriek at him.

"Did you eat already?" Your mom asks the two of you, linking her arms around yours. "Nope." You answer timidly, still not over the fact that Chanyeol dodged your question earlier.

"Let's go to Kyungsoo's place! He opened a new pizzeria." Jongin chimes in. Chanyeol could only nod. Did he lose his energy because you asked him that? Was it wrong to clarify whatever it was between you two?

You sensed the tension in the air when you saw Chanyeol walk so stiffly behind you.

"How's my sister in Seoul? Did her dumbass get a boyfriend, no?" Jongin sneers. He knew you had minimum experience in dating and he loved teasing you about it. Chanyeol clears his throat. "She's seeing someone." You and your mom stop walking the moment he announced this. Suddenly, you were reminded of the empty threat he made when you refused to leave for his hook-up. Were you two back at that again? Just.... roommates?

"What? Her? Are you joking?" Jongin laughs at you and you wanted to smack him in the face but you were too busy overthinking. "Yeol, if this is about the threat you made-" You assumed this was about that night but he cut you off with a bold statement.

"She's seeing me." You let out an audible gasp. Your eomma covered her mouth in surprise. "What did you say?" Jongin sounded like he was challenging his own best friend. The danger in his voice scared you but it didn't affect Chanyeol in any way. Instead, he confirms it again.

"Dude, I said she's seeing me." Before you could deny it, your oppa lunged forward and tackled Chanyeol to the floor.

[junicai]

tackled.

| summary | Mark hasn’t been in a group without Aria before. He doesn’t know how he’s going to manage without her there.

| word count | 2.4k

| warnings | none

| era | circa. December 2018

n/a: to the anon who requested more superm stuff, i hope this is to ur liking~ a little bit of background before i start writing some actual scenarios for the team :)

Aria wasn’t quite sure how to function; or how to deal with the fact that she was sitting, legs crossed, back ram-rod straight, in one of the smaller conference rooms with Lee Sooman sitting across from her looking a world more comfortable. 

Taeyong on her left and Lucas on her right, Ten a seat down and Mark beyond that. The plastic seats were less than kind to her aching tailbone, but Aria was mildly (read: incredibly) more preoccupied with the thought that she was wearing a faded hoodie and black workout leggings that were old and worn, sitting in a conference room with Taemin, Baekhyun and Kai. 

She was pretty sure the day couldn’t be going much worse. That was until Sooman's voice snapped her from her inner turmoil and she looked up at the CEO, raising a bottle of water to her lips with a lightly quivering hand.

“Aria, you’ll be joining as their eighth and final member.”

Water rushed down the wrong way in her throat, the muscle spasming as Aria choked and banged a closed fist against her chest. Taeyong’s hand flew to rub circles in between her shoulder blades, patting gently as she heaved, trying to re-catch her breath.

She takes it back. It just got worse. 

“Sir?” Aria wheezed out, taking in a stuttered breath as she looked up from the table to meet the CEO’s eyes. 

“SuperM is a concept group designed to take those that excelled in their respective groups and use that as the foundation to create something bigger. You’ve all made a name for yourself; both within the group and individually.” Sooman took a breath, lifting his hands to drum his fingertips across the wooden table. The dark oak was glazed, and Aria belatedly realized that this conference room was so small as it was the CEO’s personal room. His name was imprinted on the front of the door, gold paint enhancing the grooves made. 

He continued talking, focusing his attention on each individual member from his seat, explaining their ‘roles’ so to speak. Aria caught small snippets, chest still rising a beat too quickly for it to be ignorable and her racing mind building up a cascade of thoughts that were rising up in tandem. 

Baekhyun you will be the leader - Taemin as - I think it’s important, no crucial that you remember - this is not a time for - you’ll understand my expectations in time - a common ground for those that - merging the eras -

Aria flinched violently when her name was called, head snapping away from where it was boring holes into the wall just over Taemin’s shoulder. She had yet to make eye contact with a single one of her seniors, having taken a single glance around the room upon arrival and dropped herself into a near 90 degree bow. 

“What with the incredibly - albeit unexpectedly - positive response that came with your inclusion in the various NCT units, myself and my team think it fitting that you’d belong in a group such as this one. Obviously your English speaking skills are a benefit, although I am not so sure that your accent will be as tolerable to the American media as Mark’s here would be. But I’m getting ahead of myself, we can circle back to that in due time.” Sooman leant back in his chair, resting his arms against his sides. 

He looked satisfied with how the meeting had gone - given that all but one member of the newly established team had signed their agreement into another contract, having handed out a thinly spaced document a few minutes prior. 

Aria sat back, pen cradled in her hand as Sooman shuffled through her contract in his hands, as he had refrained from giving hers out with the others. The CEO dismissed the other members, calling for Aria to remain seated for another few minutes. 

As the seven boys stood from their chairs with muffled screeches from the rubber capped legs on the chairs, Taeyong let a hand brush over Aria’s shoulder once. His face was pinched into something, lip caught between his teeth but Aria waved him off with a smile that didn’t lift her eyes. 

Exiting the room, Mark glanced back over his shoulder catching a glimpse of Sooman already leaning forward in his chair and Aria sitting up straight. Attentive. And then the door swung closed, clicking shut with a soft snick and Mark couldn’t see either of them anymore. 

It had been a week. 

Mark had meant to ask Aria what Sooman had wanted to discuss with her privately, he really had. But between schedules and commuting and a million other things that had appeared on his ‘To-Do’ list overnight; he hadn’t found the time.

Either he crept in to the dorms a few minutes prior to the clock striking twelve with barely enough energy to take a shower, or it was Aria slipping in on light feet, sliding in to her bedroom with a quiet goodnight. 

She had been disappearing more often; despite the fact that Mark was near certain that she didn’t have anymore schedules than the rest of them. Not even Donghyuck had been gone as often as her, and the two of them were prepping for NCT Dream’s next album together.

The thought settled bitterly in Mark’s stomach, so he brushed it aside. A million other thoughts filled the space left; equally as acidic. 

Had she signed in to the group? Had she declined? Was there something else going on that Sooman needed to talk to her about? Was she going solo? Was she leaving them? He knew that she’d been offered the opportunity before - it nearly decimated her and Donghyuck’s friendship - but had she accepted this time? Is that where she was going? Why hadn’t she talked to anyone else about it? Why hadn’t she talked to him? 

His head was full of these thoughts running on a cycle. He tried his best to shake them out. 

The dorms were never full anymore - someone was always gone doing one thing, or practicing another, or discussing something else. 

Mark thinks that this was his least hectic day in the last seven. But it was definitely the most stressful.

His hands were sweating and he rubbed his damp palms against the black material of his joggers, an anxious bounce in his knee. Lucas was leant against the wall beside him, tapping a finger against his thigh. 

Scanning around the room, Mark saw his seniors - his groupmates, as odd as it was to acknowledge - in various degrees of unrest. Taeyong appeared relatively calm, although Mark could recognize the tense set of his jawline and he made a note to remind the leader that he had to stop grinding his teeth unless he wanted to do some damage. 

Ten had his phone in his hand and an earbud in one of his ears, seemingly engrossed in watching a video. Mark could see the dangling headphone jack; unconnected to the phone. The video was paused. 

As for a first practice together, Mark assumed that this was not how it was meant to go. How were they meant to perform together if they couldn’t even start a simple conversation? 

None of the NCT boys had seen the choreography for their first single yet, Mark hadn’t gotten around to asking had his seniors managed to get a sneak peak or not. He didn’t think he ever would, at this rate. 

The practice room was quiet, filled with an unsettled air of anxiousness although that may have just been the younger boys projecting, as Taemin looked entirely unbothered, with Kai leaning over his shoulder. 

Baekhyun’s head snapped up as the door to the practice room was closed, shifting up from his seated position on the floor to greet their choreographer. 

“Ah, hello,” He began, nodding his head in a greeting bow.

“..Hi?” Came a smaller voice than he was expecting. 

“Riri?” Lucas said, pushing himself off the wall. “Hey, you alright?” 

Aria was shifting from her left foot to her right foot, hands twisting the fabric at the end of her hoodie. Taemin tilted his head, and noticed that it was the same hoodie she had been wearing the week previous. 

“What’cha doing here, Ari?” Ten asked, moving to stand closer to the girl. 

“I’m here for - for practice? Right?” Aria turned the questioning on him, glancing at Ten and then turning her gaze on Taeyong. “Right?” 

“For SuperM?” Mark was confused. 

“Yeah?”

Aria had her eyebrows pulled together neatly, staring at Mark, who’s face had crested through about eight emotions in the last second, finally settling on a rather odd mixture of relief and pure, childlike excitement. 

“Mark wha-” She cut herself off with a yelp, hands flying to grip Mark’s shoulders as he tackled her around her middle. “Mark!” 

The boy in question only squeezed her tighter, lifting her off the ground a little. Aria squirmed in his grip, but as soon as Lucas’ arms were added to the equation she went lax, knowing that her chances of escape had just dropped to zero. 

“Dude- oh my god,” Mark was laughing, a light breathy laugh. “Dude I thought you didn’t sign it? What was all the secrecy about?” 

“What... secrecy?” Aria wheezed out. “Mark I can’t breathe-”

“Oh, sorry sorry.” 

Aria was put back down on her feet, but Mark’s arms didn’t leave her middle, choosing instead to tug the girl into a hug. “You kept disappearing, I thought-”

Mark hissed in pain when Aria pinched his hip. “You’re such an idiot.”

“What?”

“You know you can talk to me?” 

His cheeks flushed pink. 

Luckily, Lucas saved him from the conversation, pulling Aria out from Mark’s arms and into his own. This hug was more violent, and Aria was lifted and swung around in a circle once, twice, before demanding to be put back down. 

“We’re in a group together!” Lucas was beaming down at her, and Aria couldn’t help but to grin back. “Yeah we are!”

“Group hug!” Ten yelled, and suddenly Aria found herself in a tangle of Mark and Taeyong and Lucas and Ten’s arms, the four boys hugging her tightly. 

Aria laughed, trying her level best to fit them all in her own hug. They stood there for a minute, arms entangled in a rather terrible mimicry of a knotted ball of yarn. 

“Ah hyung, they’re so cute.”

Taeyong coughed, and the five-person cuddle unraveled quickly. 

Aria spun around to see Taemin, Baekhyun and Kai all standing together on the opposite side of the room. Taemin had a fond look on his face, while Baekhyun had his tongue caught between his teeth to stave off a smile.

“Not to ruin the moment or anything, but does anyone know where our choreographer is?” Jongin peered down at his phone. “It’s been twenty minutes, are we in the right room?”

Aria cleared her throat.

“Uh, about that bit.”

Mark’s head snapped over so quickly he might have given himself whiplash. “Ari?”

“I might? Be your choreographer?” The statement came out more like a question, and Aria spread her hands out in front of her. “Believe me, I’m not quite sure how that one happened either, but if it’s going to be a problem I really have no issue with, like, not doing it? I know I’m the youngest and I don’t want to be rude or anything I-”

Mark tackled her in another hug. Aria was pretty sure her ribs were going to be bruised after this.

“Literally shut up.”

“But!”

“Shut up!” 

“You’ll do a great job, Aria.” Baekhyun smiled over at the younger girl. “Do you have anything prepped, or have you heard the song yet?”

Aria shuffled awkwardly. “I have something? It’s only a rough draft really, and obviously its subject to change because, well you’re all here and whatever suits you best is the best option so,” She took a breath. Taeyong slid over to put a hand on her back, but said nothing, still waiting for one of the older members to take the lead. 

“Can you show us? None of us have seen the demo yet, just Jongin.” Taemin grumbled, poking the boy in question in the stomach. Jongin flicked him back. 

“Uh, yeah? Yeah, I can do that.” 

“Wait wait, Ari. Is that what you were talking to Sooman about?” Mark caught her wrist to stop her from leaving the practice room. She had lost the hoodie a few hours ago, and her hair was pulled back into a sad looking ponytail. Tired and weary, all she wanted to do was take a hot shower and spend the next three hours with her face buried in her pillow. 

But Mark’s question made her stop. “Uh, yeah. Yeah he just wanted to talk to me about my, responsibilities in the group, so to speak.”

If Mark was a little less exhausted and a little more alert, he would have caught the odd phrasing, but he was a lot more exhausted and a lot less alert than on a regular day, so it flew right over his head. 

“Ari, that’s incredible. I’m so proud of you.” He went to pull her into another hug. 

“No! Ew get off what’s with you today! Why’re you so cuddly, get off get off you’re gross and sweaty.” She knocked her hands against his chest to try and get him to move away.

“I’m just proud of you~” He sang, swaying her back and forth. “Was gonna miss you if you didn’t sign with us. ‘Dunno what to do without you in my team.”

Aria’s protests died down slowly, and her fists stopped to rest on his chest. She snorted once, poking him in the chest. “Don’t lie, you just didn’t want to be the maknae, you can’t fool me.” 

“No~” Mark continued to whine. “Really, was gonna miss you.” 

“Okay, okay, you big baby. I’m not going anywhere - you’re going to have to try harder than that to get rid of me. Now let go, I want a shower.”

[lovestrucked-again]

I read ur breeding kink with Jaehyun and I just woke up in a sweaty heated mess from the dream it left me with. Like uk how Jae is so in love with children? omg just him desperate to have a child and constantly fucking and i-

a/n: so i saw this AGES ago in my inbox but i didnt answer it because i had this idea and only finally just put it down (sorry). *clinks a glass* TO JAEHYUN AND A GODDAMN BREEDING KINK.

warning: lots of fucking, lots of overstim, breeding kink, 2k

Okay so everyone knows Jaehyun has a soft spot for children and to him, the thought of having his own kids one day is such a dream. He can’t help but vividly picture you, walking around with a hand on your stomach, carrying his child looking so glowy and pretty.

He’s probably mentioned it earlier on in your relationship, believing that you’re ‘the one’ for him; the one who makes him truly happy and want to be better as a person. He promised to care for you, to watch you advance in your own personal goals and to cheer you on from the side lines.

After being together for a few years, the talk of having your own child would come up almost every night while you lay cuddling in bed, “Do you think about it?” he asks, his voice in a cautious whisper.

“Hmm?”

“Having a child with me.”

“Of course I do Jae. I want to… just not right now.” you tell him, not wanting to bring a child into your lives in the midst of your busy individual schedules. You wanted to offer your child all your attention not anything half-assed.

“But one day right? You’ll give me a baby?” he murmurs in the darkness of the room.

“Definitely one day.” You mumble back, your lips forming into a soft smile against his chest.

A couple of months later and the two of you had made it back to your apartment after a long night out on your 4-year anniversary. That night when you made it to your front door, Jaehyun could no longer keep his hands off of you. Kissing you all over your face and neck, as he grips onto your waist, pulling you into him; digging his fingers into your skin. “Fucking beautiful and fucking mine, aren’t you?” He whispers, watching the way you squirm underneath him tangling within the sheets and almost sliding off the bed. He pushes himself into you, filling you with his incredible hardness as you groan, wrapping your legs around him and pulling him tightly into you. Your hips snap up to meet his, moving up and down on his cock, sending pangs of pleasure through your feverish body. “Can’t wait to see your tummy grow.”

He doesn't mean to say it, not wanting to pressure you into anything but the words slip off his tongue as he struggles to stay sane feeling your walls wrap tightly around him. All your gasps and soft whimpers echo in his ear and the sound of his cock wetly plopping out of your hole continue to drive him further into his fantasy. “Fuck baby, tell me to stop.” He chokes out, his teeth clenched and gritting against each other as he scrambles to get the words out.

“W-What, why?” You don’t want for him to stop and you’re confused at his sudden halt.

“If you don’t,” he grunts loudly, his hips snapping forward into yours, “I’m afraid I might put a baby in you.”

He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against your shoulder, his breath heavy as he attempts to restrain himself. You let out a quiet gasp, involuntarily clenching around him and he draws in a sharp breath. He tries to slow himself down, thrusting into at a lazy pace to prevent himself from coming inside; but not completely – as it would’ve felt like pure torture for him.  

You bring your fingers up to his soft curls, tugging at them gently to bring his gaze up. Jaehyun whimpers softly but he looks at you, his vision hazy as he tries to focus only on your face and not at the feeling of your walls surrounding him.

“I want you.” You whisper, watching his brows furrow in confusion.

“What?” he asks, unable to comprehend your words.

“I want a baby with you.” You repeat.

Jaehyun nods, his nervous expression from before turning into a devilish smile. That was his breaking point.

***

It all happens rather quickly, Jaehyun being very impatient after learning you were also ready for the next step. The pills are the first thing to go; letting your body take his sperm and work it out naturally. He takes all the little opportunities of free time he has to make sure your filled with him.

On late nights when he’d come home after practice at ungodly hours, you’d be woken up by him in bed, his soft kisses planted around your body causing you to stir from your sleep. On mornings where he had more time to stay at home, you’d both be in the shower; your front pressed against the cold tiles as he drives himself into you.

He’d take you anywhere and anytime he could, desperate to finally have a child with you.

On a particular afternoon, Haechan and Mark had come around, sitting outside on the balcony of your shared apartment. You could see them through the glass screen, separating the balcony and the indoors as you focused on the cleaning the dishes in the sink. Jaehyun took you right there and then. You felt his erection poking at the back of your ass, “Jaehyun, we have friends over,” you warned him.

Instead, his hands ran over your stomach and down your pants as you groaned quietly, cursing yourself for not bothering with panties because of your slack sweatpants. “We can be quick.”

Without wasting time, he had placed the head of his cock at your pussy, rubbing it back and forth a few times between your wet slit before he eased into you. It slides in easily, and in one smooth motion he buries himself to your hilt. Your hands reach for the counter, struggling to keep balance as your ass moves back to meet him. His hands find your hips, moving a little faster, thrusting a little deeper. You kept your focus on the boys outside, watching them laugh and talk to each other, oblivious to the scene unfolding behind them. You took a hand off the counter, reaching down for your clit, desperate to relieve yourself quickly. Without any time lost, your legs buckle and you cum, spraying the floor as Jaehyun shoots his load deep into you.

The two of you stood there, his cock softening as you caught your breath. Jaehyun’s first to notice Mark getting up from his seat, quickly pulling out of your pussy and drawing a long string of cum out. He swiftly pulls his pants up and you do as well, leaving immediately when you see the grey fabric beginning to stain dark by the mess flowing out of your pussy. Jaehyun ducks down with a paper towel, forced to quickly clean the mess on the floor as Mark walks in.

***

Again and again he would beat into you, the slick sound of his cock pumping in and out of your wet pussy loud in your ears, along with the frantic creak of the bedsprings, the banging of the headboard against the wall. “Going to make you full of me princess.” He hums, his body going suddenly stiff, ramming you deep as you scream feeling his fingers claw into your breasts. Your pussy feels crammed with cock, and you can feel him throb hard, shooting his semen into you. You cry out with him, and then shortly after cum too, thrusting your hips up at him in a spasm of release as his seed pours into you. You arch your back clawing at the bedspread as you tremble beneath him, the blood roaring in your ears.

It’s not even minutes later before he flips you over, “one more time baby,” he whispers dragging your body closer to his to align himself again and drive forward.

A few days later and Jaehyun had bought home a pregnancy test, bouncing around excitedly as he waited for you to check. Both of you were sure that night had done it, but as they say, things never go as easy as you want. You sit back against the tiles as you think of how to tell him, it’s negative. Jaehyun doesn't take it well, dashing back to the store for another test, believing the first one was just a mistake. When you test it again you can only sigh, “Jae it’s not broken, it’s negative.”

He tries his best to keep hide his disappointment, taking it as a challenge instead. “We just have to try harder.” He grins, picking you up from the bathroom floor and taking you back to the bedroom instead.

He eases into you slower, knowing your still sensitive from the relentless fucking over the previous few days. “Just have to try again.” He murmurs, more to reassure himself as you nod. You hum quietly, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you whimper and fight against the burning in your thighs stretched widely against the sheet.

Jaehyun goes gently at first, choosing to drive himself further into your hilt rather than going in quickly. He’s thrusts are thorough, moving in long strokes against your walls tightly. You can hear him grit his teeth as he urges his self-control, struggling to adapt to a slower pace. He drops onto his elbows, his face centremetres away from yours as you feel his heavy pants at your cheeks.

“It’s okay,” you comfort him running a hand against his back, “it’s okay.”

His hips move a little faster as he grunts louder, his body moving forward with each thrust as you squeeze around him, “Take it all princess, all of it.” He whispers, pushing into your hilt as he feels himself shoot.

You’ve never seen him so desperate, it scares you a little but it also makes you feel a little nervous, worried how his mentally doing. He doesn't like to share much about how he feels, afraid to scare you. You try to shift under him, his arms trapping your head from turning and his body pushing closely into yours, “J-Jaehyun?” you whimper.

He lifts his head at your call, moving again to push himself deeper into you, letting his remains leak inside and mix with your juices.

“M-making sure.” He grunts, pushing your shoulders down as he moves his body up towards the bedframe “just in case.”

He doesn't stop after that; taking only a quick break preparing himself for another round. You squeal at the sudden loss of his cock inside before he begins pounding back into you suddenly, your nails digging into his skin as you hold onto him. Your body trembles underneath him from the intensity and you moan as you feel him shoot into you again.

“Stay still.” He coos, stopping you from moving away. It feels like your pussy is flooding, your walls struggling to clench weakly around him.

You watch as he adjusts the pillow underneath your head, planting soft kisses over your face and neck. His cock twitches inside you with every movement and you jerk everytime, “Stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, wanting to make sure he had done everything possible.

“You’ll get tired like that.” You pout, worried his arms wouldn't be able to hold his weight for a long period of time.

“I can take it.” He whispers, leaning his cheek against your shoulder as he shifts to keep his weight off you.

Your eyes begin to droop and you can feel his heavy breaths calm down against your neck. With a hand on his back, you use your free hand to stroke his hair, his exhales becoming softer and softer as time passes.

Jaehyun lays quietly in your embrace, his cock softening inside you. “I think we did it,” he whispers, his voice low and only barely audible. You feel his words vibrate against your body and with your eyes closed you give a soft nod in agreement.

[littlegiantposts]

movie night

pairing: todoroki x f!reader

warning: strong language probably. possible anime/manga spoilers! grammar mistakes :( I suck at writing

summary: It’s not that Y/n didn’t want friends, it’s just people always found her intimidating

a/n: this is completely self-indulgent lol sorry about that, so like yeah I’m gonna be saying y/n, but also i am deriving her personality, attitude, looks from a character that I’ve sort of made up in my head haha. also idk if this is like a headcanon, imagine, or like a scenaro....so sorry. And like, sort of a side note, I love making main characters that are like sorta op so y/n’s quirk and story is sorta insane, but you guys dont really have to worry about it too much because its not really in this so....yeah, i guess its just some context. I wrote this while listening to a playlist I made, titled, “ur a badass hero with class 1-a” on spotify so if ppl wanna hear it, I will post a link to it lol. OH and class 1-a are in their second year! That’s a lot, sorry! But, I hope you enjoy!

y/n’s quirk (if ur curious): controlling the 4 elements (aang from the last airbender vibe lmao); but she also got a companion named koda (think of Moro-no-kimi from Princess Mononoke for the look) 

Y/n was never good at making friends. It’s not like she didn’t try, because she did. When she was a little kid, living on Catalina Island, she made a lot of attempts to make friends with fellow children in her pre-school and middle school. It just seemed that they wanted nothing to do with her, talking bad about her behind her back or acting as if she just didn’t exist. 

It started to get exhausting for Y/n to keep trying and ending up always failing. So, when enrolling in the top hero school, UA, Y/n thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be different. 

Nonetheless, it’s not like she had absolutely no one. She had Koda! Her best friend in the whole wide world, well her only friend, which was her pet wolf. However, Koda doesn’t like being called a “pet”, let’s stick with her companion. They are quite the inseparable duo. 

Y/n looked down at Koda from her desk who was lulling herself to sleep on the floor as Present Mic was teaching an English lesson. Y/n wished she too can sleep at this moment, “It wouldn’t hurt if I just closed my eyes for just a couple minutes.” Y/n thought. Oh, she was wrong though.

“Alright! We are going take a short break since we need to get our new textbooks,” Present Mic’s voice rang through her ears with all his elongation and passion, “Y/n and Todoroki! What about you two go get the books from the library!” Y/n would have jolted at the mention of her face, but she was honestly too tired to do so. 

She nodded her head, got up from her desk, and looked at Koda if he was going to follow her. Of course, he perked up at the mention of her name and was going with her. A small smile was now on Y/n’s lips. Y/n was glad that she knew she can depend on Koda, always in her corner.

As she pushed her chair away from her desk, getting up and walking towards the door, she didn’t realize that most of the class was either looking at her or the half and half boy, for he had to endure the trip with the enigma that is Y/n. 

The class just doesn’t know Y/n that well. She was one of the new students this year, along with Shinso. However, they at least knew of Shinso from last year. Y/n was a  brand-spanking new addition to the class. Not to mention, her introduction to the class was nothing short of intimidating.

Aizawa knew Y/n had a lot of strengths. In fact, he used her skills as a type of learning lesson for the class. Not to mention, he completely singled her out during the “lesson” as he instructed the class that Y/n will have a bell that is tied around her belt. All they had to do was get the bell. Y/n, being the competitive person she was, didn’t back down at this challenge. Safe to say, no one was able to get the bell that day.

Y/n sighed at the memory. “Maybe, if you had some chill, you would be able to get a friend, Y/n” a voice in her head said, causing Y/n’s shoulders to shrink and her hands to be stuffed into her pockets. (Yes, she has pockets with her uniform. Yes, she’s still wearing the school uniform skirt. She sowed pockets into them for this very habit.) 

“Uh, hey wait up.” a deeper voice called, already identifying who it is.

Y/n turned to right, looking at Koda for a brief second. From far away, one would think he was just grimacing, but as Y/n was closer, she can see he was very close to full-on growling at the sound of his voice.

Koda doesn’t really like Todoroki and Y/n always found it funny. Koda found everyone else real entertaining. As much as Koda was a wolf, he really was a people’s person. If Y/n didn’t know any better, it seemed Koda had a better relationship with her classmates than she actually did.

Y/n adopted a tired smile as she reacted to Koda’s growling at Shoto. She then looked behind her, seeing Todoroki jog lightly towards her. Her small smile soon faded away.

“Even if you try again to be a friend, you know that people will always end up fearing you.” Y/n honestly wanted to bang her head against a wall because this annoying voice was truly the bane of her existence. 

Y/n stopped in her tracks. Koda made eye-contact with her, almost telepathically asking her, “Why are you stopping for him?!”.

“I may be aloof, but I have to at least be polite.” Y/n told her wolf companion. Koda only let out a breathe of frustration as he also stopped as well.

Todoroki soon caught up to the duo and was on Y/n’s left side. And the three began their trek to the school library.

There was some silence.

For Todoroki, it was so awkward. “Why don’t you say something to her?” he asks himself, “Or are you going to let another opportunity slip?”

You see, Shoto Todoroki admired Y/n. She was incredibly skilled with her quirk. She was confident, but not arrogant. She was an innovator, while still accepting old principles. She was naturally smart, but always open to learning. To him, she was so balanced. He couldn’t help himself as the admiration started to soon feel like a crush on the dark haired girl.

For Y/n, she didn’t think anything of the silence. In fact, she was grateful for the silence. More silence, means less time for talking. Less chance of Y/n making a fool out of herself.

“You seem more tired than usual. Trained a lot yesterday, I presume?” And Todoroki broke the silence that Y/n was trying to insist.

“Yeah, trying out a new technique with my water.”

Y/n was surprised.

She really could have been more blunt with her answer.

Theoretically, all she really had to respond with was a “yeah”, but she decided to add that last part.

Why? Why did she feel inclined to go into more detail? Now, Y/n was confused. 

“That’s cool.” Todoroki wanted to hit himself in the head. “That’s all you got to say? What a conversation this is” Shoto mentally sighs. He feels like his heart is going to burst at how fast its going. 

“I’m actually trying to freeze it, but that turns out to be harder than expected,” Y/n almost slapped her hand on her mouth.

Why is she going into more detail? This doesn’t make sense. She’s been quite blunt lately when people try to talk to her, so what gives?

Is it Todoroki, himself? “Maybe he put a spell on me or something.” Y/n didn’t think the “icy-hot bastard” would dabble in witchcraft, but things were just not adding up in Y/n’s mind. All these thoughts woke Y/n right up, ridding herself of her tiredness. 

As for Todoroki, his mind was going into overdrive. “She’s having trouble with freezing water? She must know that this is my specialty. Is this her way of spending time with me? Does this mean the feelings I have for her are mutual? Perhaps, we can train together and I can help her with freezing.” The mere thought of spending time with Y/n outside of class made his cheeks warm up. 

He was an absolute love-struck fool for Y/n. 

“Oh, we’re here.” Y/n stated the obvious as they stand in front of the school’s library, halting Shoto’s mental mumbling, which almost resembled one of Midoryia’s ever-present babbling. 

Shoto Todoroki immediately shot his arm forward to open the door for Y/n, but Y/n was thinking the same thing and they reached for the same handle.

Their hands touch. 

And Todoroki thinks he can die happy now. Y/n’s hand is so soft. Much to his dismay, Y/n immediately drew her hand back as if his hand was scalding hot water. 

Y/n mumbled a quick “sorry” and places her hand on the other handle as there are two doors to the library, she opens it and immediately walks through it as Koda follows in tow. Koda dawns an absolute confused look as he didn’t know what the hell that interaction was about.

The actual task of getting the books aren’t that hard. In fact, it was an easy and quick task.

So, why is this causing Y/n’s mind and heart feeling like they are overheating.

As they walk back to the classroom with stacks of textbooks, Y/n thought, “Okay, there’s no way in hell that he will try to talk to me again, especially after that awkward incident. Now, let’s breakdown why the actual hell you acted that way, Y/n.” She mentally scolded herself like she was a child. 

Todoroki, as always, had a different plan and decided to continue the conversation, “You know, if you need help with freezing water, I can always help you since that is part of my quirk.”

Y/n has officially short-circuited.

He is voluntarily asking? Voluntarily. Asking?

Asking if Y/n wanted to train together?

This has never happened before, and she doesn’t know how to respond. “I would like that. I typically train in the morning and sometimes after school” is what Y/n felt like saying. It is as if her mind and mouth were working against each other.

However, Y/n’s thoughts were cut short as she heard the chatter of some of her fellow classmates. They three of them were very close to their classroom as their door to the room was wide open. 

“Hey guys, if we’re having a movie night tonight, do you think we should invite Y/n?”

It was Midoryia who asked the question. Y/n, Shoto, and Koda stopped dead in their tracks at the mention of her name. Shoto and Koda looked at Y/n with a worried expression. For her own good, she probably shouldn’t be listening, but she couldn’t help but be curious of her classmates’ plan in regards to her.

“It’s not that we don’t want her there. It’s just that, who is up for asking her?”

Silence. No one responded to the question.

Koda notices how Y/n’s grip on the textbooks tightened. Shoto noticed how your head was now titled downward, hiding your face.

“She’s just so intimidating. And not to mention that training exercise we did when we first met her. She’s sort of scary, to be honest.”

“Scary. You’re scary, Y/n. Terrifying.” She couldn’t help but repeat her classmates’ thought of her. She was just torturing herself at this point. No point in dwelling on first impressions, but as this is affecting her current relationship, or lack thereof, with her classmates, she couldn’t help it.

“Y/n-” Todoroki tries to interject before Y/n gets the wrong idea.

But, it’s too late.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks for the offer though, Todoroki.” Y/n’s words were slow. As much as her brain was going a million miles per hour, her mouth was evidently slower as her breathing was heavier.

She wanted to disappear, or at least get swallowed by the ground. She kept her head down as she strode into the classroom. Her classmates being oblivious to Y/n’s knowledge of what they truly think of her, paying no attention to her.

Shoto was basically frozen in place, next to the door, but he gained composure and walked in the class as well, a couple seconds after. Y/n quickly placed her books on the front desk where Present Mic sat behind of, she sat back in her seat that was in the back of the class.

Y/n watched how Shoto was still standing in front of the classroom as he was stopped by his classmates. Now, they were just chatting, probably talking about the upcoming movie night.

Y/n felt jealousy bubble up inside her. She wished she can chat like how Shoto was effortlessly talking away to his classmates. Or how Midoryia stopped him with such ease to talk about a social event.

Y/n yearned for some friendly interaction. That’s what she wanted when coming to UA. 

She wanted to be normal. As normal as she could be. A normal teenager.

“Things don’t always go according to plan, huh?” Y/n pouted and placed her head on her desk and just waited patiently till the school day was over.

Koda worriedly looked at Y/n. “She’s going to want to train after this. And I bet she’s going to push herself harder because of today.” Koda knew Y/n very well. Knew her like the back of his hand, well, paw. 

And, Koda was right. Y/n was in gym gamma, completely exhausted. Sweat covered her body as her muscles were screaming at her take a break. Her labored breathe continued as her body was trying its best to keep up.

Y/n was frustrated. “Why? Why am I like this?” she kept repeating like a mantra.

“I want to be normal. Why can’t I be like them?”

“Why?”

“You’re a monster. It’s actually quite simple.”

Y/n threw a punch with her fist encased in water, and it wasn’t until after that punch was thrown, she realized that there was now an evident hole in the thick, solid concrete wall. 

Y/n fell to her knees. Koda hurriedly made his way to her, making sure she didn’t do anything too stupid. Once Koda was close, she was doing something unexpected. 

She was crying. 

Hot streams, cascading down her face. She started to hiccup, her breathing erratic. “A-am I scary to you, Koda?” her voice was so small.

Koda nudged his way in between her legs and nestled his head into her neck. Y/n, full on sobbing now, wraps her arms around Koda and her cries are muffled by his fur. Wailing and self-deprecating questions can be faintly heard from her if anyone were to enter the gym.

A couple minutes passed. Y/n’a breathing returned to a calm rhythm.

“Thanks, Koda. I needed that,” Y/n sniffles, “C’mon let’s go make dinner, I’ll whip you up something special for putting up with me today.” Koda’s tail immediately began to wag at the thought of Y/n’s cooking.

Y/n was an independent person. She likes doing things on her own as much as can. She doesn’t eat the food from the school cafeteria, instead, she opts for making her and Koda’s meals from the kitchen that is provided to them in their dormitory. And indeed, she made a delicious dinner for both of them. 

Now, the hard part. Because of how long her training took, showering, and making dinner, Y/n knew that her classmates were in the common space already, probably preparing to have their movie night. And, she had to pass them. It was a short distance, short walk, Y/n was trying to reassure herself. Just walk straight towards to the elevator and you’re safe.

Y/n takes a deep breathe and walks out of the kitchen. The chatter of her classmates emerges to her ears, but as she walks towards the elevator, the chatter dies down.

“Oh no.” Y/n’s eyes widened in fear. “Way to go on ruining the mood, Y/n.”

Thankfully, the elevator was quick and the doors slide open, making an easy escape for Y/n and Koda. She let out a breathe she didn’t even realize she was holding in as the doors slid shut. Y/n looks at Koda, who was already looking at her, “It’s better this way, anyway” Y/n didn’t know if she was telling Koda that, or herself.

On the other side of the elevator’s doors, her classmates collectively let out a sigh, “Well that was another chance we wasted.” Kaminari was the first to break the awkward silence.

“Tch. Like any of you have the guts to actually ask her.” Bakugo chimed in.

“Oh please, Bakugo, I know she intimidates you, too.” Mina fired back.

“Whatever.”

“She heard you guys.” Todoroki suddenly talked. Everyone casted their attention to him, “Earlier today, I mean. She heard you guys when you were talking about inviting her to movie night.” 

The once light-hearted atmosphere in the room was now tilted with guilt.

“She heard all that?” Midoryia incredulously asked, only imagining what you would be feeling because of their words.

“She must feel terrible.” Ochaco openly voiced her thoughts.

“She probably hates us.” Kirishima adds in.

“She means well, I promise. I think we just need to give her a chance.” Todoroki tries to reason with his classmates.

“First, we need to apologize.” Midoryia proposes as he looks among his classmates. His classmates collectively nod their heads in agreement

“You’re right. Well, good luck Midoryia.” Kaminari pats his back as encouragement. Everyone else either gives an encouraging smile or a thumbs up.

“Ha?! What?! You guys already decided that I’m going to be the one to apologize?” Izuku was flailing his arm around and was checking everyone else’s reaction.

“Well, yes. It’s your idea and you are one of the most apologetic people here.” Iida explained to an overthinking Midoryia.

After regaining composure, he realized that this was probably the best option, “Okay, I’ll, I’ll go now.”

Midoryia makes his way to Y/n’s dorm room. He was nervous. He only had very limited interactions with Y/n. So, he really didn’t know what to expect. Before he knew it, he was before your door.

On the other side, Y/n was chowing down on her food. She took a swig of her water, “So, how’s the food? I tried a new technique on roasting the veggies.” Y/n babbled on for a bit, but she realized that Koda’s plate was hardly touched. Her gaze landed on Koda who was sitting on her bed with a very obvious frown, staring at the door. Y/n immediately knew why.

“Hey, if you wanna go hangout with them, I can push the buttons on the elevator for you-”

Koda was irritated at how difficult Y/n was being, she can just ask them if she can join. It was simple. Koda used his mouth to latch on to Y/n’s sleeve and started to drag her to her dorm’s door. 

“H-hey Koda! Not cool, man! You know, I can’t go down there.” Y/n tugs her sleeve away from Koda. 

Koda turned to his last resort. He did his signature pout. 

“Oh, please. You know that stopped working on me awhile ago. Besides, we can have our own movie night, right?” Y/n tried to reason, but her reasoning just felt sad.

Before Y/n could step away from her dorm’s door, she heard a knock. The two quickly tuned their heads at the door as if something miraculous just happened.

Y/n took one step toward the door. 

“It’s Midoryia.” Koda began to wag his tail, “don’t get your hopes up too quickly.”

Y/n opened the door only a slit for her head to poke out, “Oh, hi Midoryia. Is something wrong?” she asks.

“U-um, no nothings wrong.” he responds as nerves start to take over and he doesn’t continue on.

“Okay.” With that, Y/n closed her door. Koda wanted to scratch his eyes out. This was her chance! For someone who was the top student in her class, she was so stupid. “He didn’t want anything. Sorry to disappoint, Koda-” another knock interrupted her.

She looked at the door, “It’s still Midoryia.” Koda rolled his eyes.

Y/n went to to open the door, again, only opening a bit, “Yes, Midoryia? You sure something isn’t wrong?”

“Uh, well I was wondering if we can talk for a bit.”

“Oh, yeah sure.” Y/n stepped out of her door, and shutting it.

However, Koda was right on her trail, but was shut out by the now closed door. He pouts at the door. And how holds his ear to the door, interested in the conversation that has yet to come.

“So, what’s up?” Y/n asked the green-haired boy.

“I, we, as a class, wanted to apologize for our words today.” Midoryia spoke in a remorseful and quiet tone.

Y/n was taken back. “So, they know that I heard what they were saying? Must have been Todoroki’s doing.”

“Look, it’s fine. I know I’m intimidating-“

“But it’s not fine. We shouldn’t have treated or talked about you that way.”

Y/n was stunned at his words. He took that as a sign to continue, “and we were hoping, if you’d be okay if we start over and become friends.”

Y/n remained cautious with her walls, “You know, friendship isn’t really a perquisite for this course.”

“Of course, I know that. We all do, but it doesn’t hurt to have them, right?”

Y/n felt like tearing up. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to put her trust in that last statement of his. 

“I’ll be be down in 5 minutes,” Y/n stated rather blandly, but it didn’t matter to Midoryia.

“Great! See ya!” He waved and started to head back to the elevator, before he pressed the button, Y/n called him once more,

“Midoryia?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” and nods his head. He couldn’t be more thrilled that this will all work out.

As for Y/n, she opened her door to her dorm, and closing it as she stepped inside.

As soon as she was in the comfort of her own room, she broke into her happy dance. Her fists clenched, eyes shut, shoulders scrunched, jumping in the air, squeals make their way pass her lips, with the biggest smile on her face

Koda felt a wave of relief of wash over him. He was glad that she was finally experiencing acceptance. 

After the moment passes, Y/n sighs and looks at Koda, ruffling his fur on the top of his head.

“Well, shall we?” Y/n said in an extravagant manner as she opened her door and bowed.

Koda, playing along, held his head high and strutted out. Y/n let out a light-hearted laugh and they made their way down, together.

Once Y/n actually made it to the common room, all of her classmates were looking at her, stopping their conversations as well. The confidence that Y/n help was long gone, feeling now awkward yet again.

However, the silence didn’t last too long as the class enveloped her in boisterous apologies, hugs, and pats on the back. 

To say Y/n was overwhelmed was understatement. She had never been around these many people, giving attention towards her. It was new territory she had yet to cross. 

“Guys, you should probably let her breathe.”

That was Todoroki. Y/n pried her eyes away from Mina who was asking what conditioner she uses, and looked at Shoto. Y/n mouthed a “thank you” and he simply nodded.

The class went back to their seats, muttering apologies again for getting in her personal space.

Now, Y/n faced yet another problem:

Where is she going to sit?!

She kept standing where she stood for a good couple seconds, scanning the area for any good spots.

However, there was actually only one spot open. And, it just happen to be next to Todoroki. 

Y/n mentally prepared herself and started her path towards him. Of course, Shoto knew this. He was the one who made sure he saved a seat right next to him just for this occasion.

But things don’t always go according to plan, right?

Rightly so, right before Y/n could take the unaccompanied seat, Denki was coming back from the kitchen with a bowl of popcorn, plopping right down on the seat.

“Oh, hey Y/n! I’m glad you made it! You want some popcorn?”

“No, I’m good, thanks though.” Y/n was able to play it off as she chose to sit on the floor in front of the couch, which coincidentally was in front of the seat that Shoto resided. 

Shoto was irritated. He wanted you to sit next to him. For crying out loud, that was the whole reason he had this seat open in the first place. All he does is sigh, catching Y/n’s attention.

Y/n turns back to Todoroki, sending a small smile his way, but then turning back to the screen as her fellow classmates were arguing on what to watch.

Y/n put her hand to her chest. This is weird. Why is her heart rate so high? She’s not usually like this. Maybe Todoroki did cast a spell on her.

Y/n couldn’t think about it too much as the movie began playing.

[dewykth]

SWEET SEPTEMBER.

a @periminkle​​​ and @dewykth​​​ collaboration.

synopsis. for many, september symbolizes new beginnings. but for namjoon, this month never fails to send him back into the past. though this time, something seems different.

pairing. kim namjoon | female reader contains. fluff, angst, slice of life au, ballet instructor!reader, single dad!nj  word count. 7.5k+  warnings. death mentions, mature audience

dae’s note. surprise !!! this fic is dedicated to my favourite virgo karla @guklvr​​​​ !! happy birthday bae i hope you enjoy this lil thing me n vira whipped up for u!! (i stress wrote a lot of this ha.) also sry for lying & keeping you up but hopefully this makes u forgive me. but i hope ur day goes amazing ILYSM DUDE !!! <333 and a huge thank you to vira for hopping on board for this idea bc i cld not have done this without her !!! pls give her all the love !!!

vira’s note. KARLAAAA!!! i always gotta scream ur name it’s mandatory to start with a good scream ykno? bUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL 🥳  i already told u this too many times today but ILYSM !! like that full day without saying a single word to u felt so weird and i kept going into our chat and rereading our mssgs and wishing I was talking to u??? which is weird to admit?? but that literally how much i missed u idk how but im addicted to u so if you leave me I will literally die :))) aNYWAY have the bestestestest day ever and i hope u love the fic bc I ignored all my uni work to finish this !!! (also i feel reallyreallyreally bad about last night sO IM SORRY AGAIN BUT I HOPE THIS IS WORTH IT) 💖

Despite the papers carelessly stuffed into his leather briefcase, the dark coffee stain on his black slacks, and his unkempt locks resembling that of a bird’s nest, Namjoon’s become accustomed to the hectic nature of his mornings.

The kitchen table is practically buried under stacks of files, yet he brushes them aside to allow one corner of the glass surface to peek through. He plops the toddler in his arms onto a high chair before racing to the counter and sloppily pouring some honey nut cheerios into a small bowl, handing it off to his daughter. 

“Daddy?” her voice squeaks, a patient smile stretching across her lips. Her brown strands are tied up into pigtails at the crown of her head with pink ribbons that flutter with the movement of her tiny head. 

“Yes, angel?” He scurries around to their bedroom, peeling the stained fabric off his body and threading one leg through another pair of slacks fresh from the laundry. 

With Namjoon’s focus pinned on checking off the mental to-do list in his head, he misses the gentle, reassuring smile that stretches across her rosy lips. The adoration for her father is clear in her gaze. “You forgot to pour the milk.”

At the reminder, he squawks and hops back to the kitchen on one foot as he maneuvers his other leg through the pant hole. Swinging the fridge door open, he grabs the carton and sloppily pours the milk into her bowl—white droplets leaping out with their newfound freedom and forming perfect domes on the glass tabletop.

Cleaning the mess falls to the bottom of his priorities at the moment, and so he speeds off to the bathroom to ensure that his appearance is presentable for work while Dasom reaches over to pluck a tissue from the box, swiping the milky beads away before diving into her breakfast. She shoves as many cheerios into her small mouth as she can, rushing because she refuses to finish her meal in the car with their wild driver behind the wheel. 

Despite her mere four years of age, she knows from experience that a bowl of cereal and a shaky vehicle is a recipe for disaster.

Namjoon races over to his briefcase with most of his hair sleeked back, only the locks of his bangs hanging out to frame his forehead. As he slips his dark blazer on to complete his form-fitting suit, Dasom scoops the last few brown rings into her mouth and slurps the remainder of the liquid.

“Did you finish your milk?” he questions while cramming the edges of the loose leaves that peek past the seam of his briefcase, hurriedly zipping it up and turning to face her.

Dasom flips the edge of the bowl up to display its empty contents, gulping the last of her breakfast down her throat. As per routine, she scans her father for any inconsistencies in his attire, landing on his odd fitting bottoms.

“Daddy, your pants are on backwards.”

His eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, glancing down to affirm that the pockets at his sides are no longer at the front of his hips. Hastily, he shimmies out of his slacks once more and twists the fabric around to the proper orientation. 

Dasom hops off her chair, her bowl and wet kleenex in hand as she waddles over to the sink and waits for him to deposit the dirty dish into the sink and the sullied tissue into the trash. Although her short arms couldn’t reach over the countertop just yet, she’ll diligently drink every last drop of her milk in hopes of growing tall enough to take some of the load off of her father’s back.

He hoists Dasom up at the sight of the red car pulling up to the driveway, squeezing into the back seat. Namjoon doesn’t have to tell the driver to book it, as the calm man in front has learned to keep his foot pressed on the pedal. The car weaves through the morning traffic with concerning speed, snaking through the other vehicles littering the road as if they were no more than stationary pylons, simply there for practice.

Dasom remains on her father’s lap with his arms looped protectively around the seatbelt over her torso. She sinks into his embrace, fiddling around with his long, slender fingers as she watches the blurs of colour speeding past the window.

“Did you put your ballet shoes into your backpack, angel?” Namjoon loosens his grip on her, unhooking one hand to rummage through his own briefcase in order to confirm that he had indeed slid his laptop within the chaos inside. To keep her entertained, he playfully extends his digits out of her reach.

“Of course!” she chirps, a wide grin revealing the gaps between her teeth. The pads of her fingertips brush against his palm and tickle the sensitive skin there when she realizes that her arms lack the length required to latch onto his hand. “I can’t wait for class, we’ve got a new teacher coming in today!”

Humming absentmindedly, he sighs in relief at the sight of the silver device and packs the crumpled papers back in. “What happened to Ms. Kim?”

“She’s teaching the older class now.” The pout on her lips can be heard within the muffled lilt of her voice when she continues, “I asked her to stay until my birthday next week b-but she didn’t.”

Namjoon’s breath hitches at the reminder, but attempts to compose himself for his daughter’s sake. “It’s out of her control, angel, plus she’ll probably swing by anyway.”

His mind starts to fog up with the emotions he thought he buried last year–they swarm his every thought and nibble away at his sanity. He knows better than to believe that they would ever disappear. September will always be an insurmountable month for him.

“I might be a bit late to pick you up later, just sit tight and wait for Daddy, okay?”

She eagerly nods in response, noticing the dull red bricks of her school coming into view. “Okay, bye Daddy!”

Namjoon unlocks the seatbelt, wistfully watching his toddler bounce out of his arms and onto the asphalt below. No matter how many times he drops her off, it’s always difficult to be separated from her bright smile, but he reminds himself that it’s all for her; it makes things a little easier to bear.

“Have a good day at school.” He reciprocates her frantic waving through the window, craning his neck to watch her adorable form become smaller and smaller with the increased distance. Her full cheeks and crinkled eyes are engraved into the back of his mind.

Before long, Namjoon finds himself rushing into his office after an earful from his surly boss about everything from the late hour to the long list of meetings scheduled to all the work he’s got piled up. With his lips pursed and his head bowed, he somehow manages to make it past another lively morning.

Namjoon has a habit of overthinking. He figures it’s normal when you have a stressful job and a four year old full of energy to balance all by yourself. Not that overthinking about his daughter does him any good, because that is far from the reality. If anything, it just makes him, what you’d call, a bit... overprotective (over worrisome if you asked Jin). But it’s something he can’t really help. Even when she had just entered his life, so small and so blissfully unaware of the awful and evil things in the world, all he wanted to do was hold her in his arms and shield her from it all as long as he could.

Though he’s very aware of the fact that it won’t be much longer, that won’t stop him from going over every single little thing that could go wrong in the meantime.

So, of course, when Namjoon’s asshole of a boss makes him stay two hours over his shift, all Namjoon can think about is Dasom. Is she okay? Has she eaten anything? Did she drink enough water today? She’s always dehydrated after her classes too. He usually calls Ms. Kim to check up on her, but his calls went straight to voicemail, which definitely wasn’t helping his hectic mind. Perhaps something had happened to her?

Oh god, maybe someone broke in and had injured Dasom?

The doors are thrown open, the sound of the doorknob hitting the wall reverberating through the room. The receptionist wearing her usual polka-dot dress jumps in her seat, eyes lifting from the intense scene on her phone to the entrance of the building. An unsure smile stretches across her ruby red lips at the familiar figure, though a bit disheveled and breathless. But before the customary ‘hello’ can even form on her tongue, the figure is rushing past her, leaving only a gust of air in his wake. The papers on her desk fall to the ground, and she sighs.

Namjoon is prepared to fight the (fictional) person who thinks breaking into a toddler ballet class is a good idea, but the scene in front of him once he pushes past the doors of the studio is one he is wholly unprepared for.

He sees Dasom first, and the relief that fills his body is indescribable. It’s far from the usual sight he’s greeted with when he picks her up late. She’s not sitting on one of the chairs in the far corner of the room. His heart doesn’t feel heavy, which comes with seeing his daughter so glum. This time it’s her laughter that greets him, not one provoked by him but by the figure standing in the middle of the room with her.

Dasom doesn’t seem to be aware of the presence of her dad yet, but the figure twirling her around turns, and her eyes land on Namjoon.

The reaction is immediate. The carefree smile that had been on your face slips off, a look of embarrassment and surprise overcoming your features. Namjoon only catches a glimpse, and somehow finds himself wishing that won’t be the last time he sees it. You let go of Dasom’s hand, quickly making your way to the stereo on the other side of the room. And that’s when-

“Daddy!”

Dasom wastes no time running into her father’s open arms, and Namjoon suddenly can’t remember why he was so worried in the first place. “Hi, angel.” he says, just loud enough for her to hear. She pulls back. “I’m so sorry for getting here so late. I promise i won’t do it again.”

But of course, Dasom holds nothing but forgiveness in her heart for her hard-working father. She does love teasing him, though. “Don't say sorry to me, say sorry to her.” she giggles, pointing behind her and Namjoon furrows his brow until he remembers they’re not the only ones in the room.

His eyes immediately move to where you stand awkwardly near the stereo, eyes moving around the room as if you hadn’t been watching the whole exchange. Namjoon sighs, realizing he definitely can’t avoid talking to you now. He stands straight, holding onto Dasom’s hand as he makes his way over to you. You only seem to grow more nervous as he nears, and Namjoon distantly recalls Jin telling him he came off as intimidating to most people. Something about his ‘beefy’ arms, in his own words. (“And that stupid and unfairly attractive face!”) He goes for a smile because it's not like he can control his physique.

“Hi, I’m so sorry about…”

Namjoon stops.

Maybe it was the overwhelming distress before, or the really shitty lighting of the studio, but he hadn’t realized how pretty you were before. But now he’s standing right in front of you and he can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Pretty can’t be the right word. He realizes how creepy he probably looks, running in here like a madman and then downright staring at the (very beautiful) woman who looked after his daughter? Not cool, man.

You clear your throat, before extending a hand to him. “Hi, I’m ____, the new ballet instructor.”

Your voice sounds just like honey.

Namjoon stares at your hand dumbly, before the sound of Dasom snickering (very discreetly) behind him snaps him out of it. But instead of introducing himself, or apologizing, or just taking your fucking hand, he says-

“What happened to Ms. Kim?”

He mentally face-palms.

Not. Cool. Man.

Your face falls, and Namjoon has never wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole more than he does now. “Uh, she’s instructing the teen class now.” you chuckle awkwardly, dropping your hand.

“Oh-”

“Daaaad,” Dasom's voice sounds annoyed, and perhaps it’s a bit silly of Namjoon to feel like he’s being scolded, but that is exactly how he feels right now. “I told you this. In the morning. Remember?”

He doesn’t. “Ah, right of course,” Namjoon scratches the back of his neck. It wasn’t like he meant to forget, he had just been too busy thinking about the other things every September would bring. “Sorry, I’m Kim Namjoon. Dasom’s dad.”

This time he offers his hand, and he thanks the skies above that you don’t seem to hate him because you fit your hand against his. Warm, like honey. How long had it been since he last made a fool of himself in front of a pretty girl?

Too long.

“I’m terribly sorry for arriving so late it’s just that my boss, who’s a huge-” Namjoon glances at Dasom, who is now in her own world, singing some song she learned in school, “jerk, decided to assign these reports last minute and the printer would just not work and then traffic hour-”

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth, but Namjoon can see the amusement bubbling in your eyes. He flushes a deep red, eyes falling to the floor, realizing he started ranting.

“It’s okay. Really.”

When he looks back up, there’s a smile on your face. Not like the one before, this one was more reserved, but genuine, reassuring. And just like that, he’s sure you don’t hate him.

Namjoon’s not sure he likes this feeling though.

“Straighten your arms out, girls!” you belt over the classical music that floods the studio’s walls, scanning your army of toddlers in tutus whose arms immediately tense at your command. Making your way through the row, you poke and prod everywhere from their shoulders to their ankles. “Arch your back more, Somin.”

Their muscles violently tremble in response to the strenuous routine you’ve introduced, facial features scrunched in concentration and a resolute will to uphold their positions despite the hyperextension of their limbs. A mix of pity and pride swells in your chest at their effort. “Keep your chins up, the annual recital is only a couple of days away.”

Cheers erupt throughout the small room, disrupting the focus and spoiling their perfect form, yet you refuse to quiet excitement because of the renewed vigour buzzing throughout the room. The next hour depletes all of their built-up energy with demi-piles, pirouettes and sautés.

A glance at the analog clock in the corner informs you of the five minutes remaining before the end of class, so you pause the speakers and instruct the girls to stretch themselves out as they wait for their guardians to trickle in. They collectively sigh in relief before dropping to the floor like flies.

You snort at their dramatics with an amused smile playing at your lips. “I said to stretch, not to lay down and nap.”

“Can’t we nap and stretch at the same time?”

Strolling over to the source of the voice, you cluck your tongue at her limp form sprawled across the wooden floor and cross your arms, struggling to keep your giggles from breaking your angered facade. “And how do you suppose we do that, little Miss Dasom?”

She flashes her toothless grin up at you. “Like this!” With one leg bent over the other and her hands looping around to hold her twisted limbs to her torso, she shuts her eyes and exaggerates her snores.

At this point, it’s nearly impossible to withhold your snickers, and the rest of the class joins in your laughter. You pick up on Dasom’s tinkling giggles between each of her heavy breaths. The lighthearted jokes continue as kids are signed out with bright grins on each of their faces.

You wait for the rest of the toddlers to file out one by one, waving goodbye and checking them off your list until, as usual, Dasom is the only toddler left. Her tiny feet still clad in her faded ballet shoes waddle up to you, tugging on your blouse.

“Your pirouette was a bit wobbly today, do you want to go over—”

“‘M tired,” she interrupts, slouching her shoulders with an adorable frown marring her lips. Her exhaustion is justified, since the routine is rather exhausting, and with their recital right around the corner, you worked them to the bone today.

The odd timing of the switch between you and Ms. Kim left you with a little under a week to tweak and perfect their current choreography. A sloppy routine is not the way you want to present your skills to their parents for the first time, thus you were stricter with the kids than normal.

Your sympathy wins out, and so you gather Dasom’s lithe figure into your arms as you head to the closest wall. With your back supported, you spread out your legs and place her in your lap.

“My birthday is this Thursday.”

“Mhm,” you hum, bobbing your head to signal for her to continue her train of thought.

Her back faces you, but when her head tips down to stare at her hands, you know she’s contemplating her words carefully. Rather than encouraging her to speak freely, you wait for her to feel comfortable enough to reveal her thoughts; and surely enough, her shell cracks open just enough for you to peep through. “Do you wanna come?”

“I would be honoured.” A giddy smile splits across your lips. “Is Daddy picking you up again today?”

She flips around in your hold, wrapping her arms around your waist and snuggling her head to your chest. Her words are muffled into the fabric of your thin shirt, but her tone indicates her affirmation.

Suddenly self-conscious of your heartbeat—that Dasom can definitely hear with her ear pressed up against you—picking up pace at the mention of her father, you suppress your thoughts with a guilty conscience. You internally chide yourself for harbouring feelings for the charming, taken, man, defying arguably one of the most important fundamental rules of becoming an instructor.

Do not develop silly crushes on your student’s parents.

“Ms. ____?” her faint question snaps you out of your reverie, attention brought back to the present moment. While preoccupied, your hand took on a mind of its own, gingerly patting the space between the little girl’s shoulder blades at a slow rhythm.

She gazes up at you when you halt your rhythmic movements, sharp eyes boring into yours. “Are you gonna ask Daddy to come see me dance?”

The edges of your lips flip up in what you hope to be an encouraging smile as you nod your head. Subconsciously, you begin to stress over another encounter with Namjoon, formulating a script to hopefully avoid the stiff, tense atmosphere that lingered throughout all your previous interactions.

“Daddy’s always really busy,” she slurs, drowsiness coating her words and weighing down on her lids. Grumbling under her breath about her numb legs, Dasom crawls onto the floor beside you with her head resting on your thigh. “He’s always working hard for me.”

Your eyes soften at the fetal position she’s taken up on the ground; not only was Dasom lucky to have such a dedicated father, but Namjoon was also blessed with a caring daughter. “You don’t think he can make it?”

“It’s okay,” she whispers and you have to crane your ears to listen. You stroke the strands littering her forehead, gingerly caressing the crown of her head. “It’s okay if Daddy can’t come. I know him, he’s trying to do it all because Mommy’s not with us anymore, but it’s okay. I still love him even if I can’t see him lots.”

A knot forms between your eyebrows, a bittersweet ache forming within the creases of your heart. The painful constriction of your chest ebbs and flows with your shallow breaths that can’t seem to make it past your throat. You bite your lip to subdue the plentiful liquid gathering at your waterline.

No more than a croak escapes your lips before the door to the studio flies open, meeting the adjacent wall with a bang!

“I’m so sorry, my meeting ran late and I couldn’t—” the rest of his speech gets stuck in his windpipe at the sight of you, eyes rimmed red and sniffling, with Dasom, ostensibly dead asleep, on your thigh. “Did she…?”

You blink away your incoming tears, although your dignity has been completely thrown out the window, seeing as he believes that his four-year-old kid made a grown woman, who just so happens to be her ballet teacher, bawl her eyes out.

As you go to gently shake Dasom awake, she sluggishly lifts her head off of your lap and starts to scale your torso like a koala on a tree. Your confusion is vocalized through the high-pitched hum in your throat, but your efforts to pry off her limbs, tightly wound around the small of your waist, are futile.

“Uh, Dasom? It’s time to go home now, angel.” Despite his firm words, Namjoon’s tone is unsure and shaky; he can feel cold sweat build up in the lines of his palms. He knows his daughter, and she can be periodically stubborn and insistent the way children are at her age, thus even as you come to stand, she’s stuck to you like glue. “Would you, uh, did you need a ride?”

You mimic the sheepish smile on his face, hoping the flaming blush you feel on your cheeks isn’t as visible as it seems. “Sure.”

With Dasom latched onto you, both of you make your way to the red car outside after you lock up the studio. Namjoon courteously opens the car door for you, what with your arms supporting his clingy toddler; although, with the brute force he uses, you worry for the state of the hinges. Thankfully, they stay intact and he’s able to slip into the backseat after you.

Before an awkward silence can settle, you clear your throat and prepare to ask him about his day, but you’re interjected by Namjoon’s sudden stammering, “D-driving’s such a hassle for me so Jin drives us everywhere. Jin knows how to drive though, so, don’t worry.” He finishes with a deep chuckle that dies off nearly as quickly as it began. Oh, that’s unexpected.

“You don’t to drive yourself?” Rather than being processed in your brain and logically thought through, the question immediately enters your mouth without any prior scanning for dumbass-content. You instantly regret it, feeling as though it’s much too invasive. “You don’t have to answer that, I—”

The hearty laughter that meets your ears is “No, I do. Sometimes. But its easier raising this one like this.” His tone turns sweet at the mention of Dasom as he reaches over to pat her head, and you’re overcome with an intense desire to prod more into his personal life. Why does he have to work so much? Which shirt in his closet is his favourite? How does he like his eggs in the morning?

“I’m not sure if you already knew about the annual recital on Saturday, but Dasom’s been practicing really hard for weeks and the kids are all really talented, so it would definitely be worth your time...”

As he’s gazing at his daughter, galaxies of devotion and longing swirl within his cocoa irises. The cool light of the moon shines through the windows of the car, illuminating his sharp jawline and strong brows. You’re absolutely mesmerized by the sight in front of you. “You must be really busy, huh?”

“More than I’d like to be.”

You rip your entranced gaze away from Namjoon, willing yourself to steady your frantic breaths.

The remainder of the ride still drips with awkward tension, although with a definite lighter tone than before. Jin pulls up to your apartment with your direction and you dislodge a sleepy Dasom from your torso, which is much easier now that her limbs have gone slack with sleep. Handing her off to Namjoon, who practically engulfs her tiny form with his broad chest, you rush out of the vehicle with a quick, “See you!”

You slam the door closed before he can say anything, racing into the comfort of your home with your heart in your throat.

The last thing you had expected to do on a Thursday evening was to go to a birthday dinner. Thursdays are your days off, your in-days. The ones you spend lounging on your couch with a face mask and some wine. And yet, here you are.

When you received a text this morning, the last person you had expected it to be was Namjoon. Much less Namjoon asking you to come over for Dasom’s birthday. You weren’t going to say yes, hell, you had thought of downright ignoring it. It was weird, wasn’t it? But Dasom had quickly carved a toddler-shaped hole into your heart. Truly, you had said yes before the message was even typed out.

And so now you stare at the tall apartment building in front of you, definitely feeling more nervous than before. You knew that Namjoon had to be well-off to afford a weekday chauffeur, but damn did you not expect him to be this well-off.

It seemed today was the day to expect absolutely anything.

You enter the opulent building, signing in at the front desk before entering the large, mirrored elevator. The beating of your heart picks up the more floors you pass, and you can’t help but fidget with your appearance. Namjoon had said it would only be you three, which you guessed was supposed to calm your nerves but really, it did anything but that. The mere thought of eating dinner with Namjoon was nerve-wracking. But now you were about to eat dinner and enter his home; you had no fucking clue what you were getting yourself into.

The doors slide open, and you step into the hallway. A single door could be seen at the end of the hallway, so you quickly make your way over. You stop right in front, taking a deep breath in before pushing the doorbell. A beat, a crash, another beat, then-

The door swings open, and your breath catches in your throat.

Namjoon looks heavenly as always, but seeing him in clothes other than his usual black slacks makes your heart do a cartwheel. God, this is dangerous.

“Ms. ____!”

Before Namjoon can form a hello, Dasom is running past him and wrapping her small arms around your legs. “You came! See daddy! I told you she’d come.” her tongue pokes out of her mouth, aimed straight at her father and you stifle a laugh.

“Did he think I wouldn’t?” you ask, eyebrow arched as you glance at Namjoon, who seems to have a permanent pink hue on his face.

“He said you wouldn’t!”

“Oh, really? What else did he say?”

“He said I had to help him clean either way!”

“Alright, Dasom. That’s enough.” He says firmly, clearing his throat and trying to act as unaffected as possible. His eyes shift to meet yours. “Why don’t you come inside?”

As much as this day really sucked for Namjoon, today had been… different. Not all too much. Of course, getting up was the hardest part, but he had decided to make Dasom her favourite breakfast meal instead of her usual cereal. He had also made sure to get her all the toys she had been wanting, and planned their day out to do Dasom’s favourite things. Namjoon just wanted this day to be special for her. That was all he cared about.

But when Dasom had asked him to invite you, he had hesitated.

Dasom had never spent her birthdays with anyone else but Namjoon. Not that it was intentional, but Namjoon liked to have this day just for the both of them. Because that’s how it’s always been. He didn’t know what it was about you that made his daughter talk about you all the time. Or why she wanted to spend a birthday with you. But how could he deny her? And so, the text was sent.

And now, as Namjoon puts away the dishes while you sit on his couch, he realizes he hadn’t thought of her today. Not as much as the years before. Dinner had been so... nice. It felt nice to have someone else around. Namjoon loves Dasom, but he hadn’t realized how distant he had gotten from everything that had once seemed to be the centre of his life.

Namjoon closes the dishwasher, exiting the kitchen and making his way to the living room. He places the two glasses on the table before pouring the dark red liquid.

“I hope you like Merlot.”

“Oh, please. Anything’s fine.”

You take the wine glass, sending him a thank you before taking a drink. “So,” you lean back, “remind me how to play this again.”

“Ms.____ I told you. You have to take a block without knocking the tower over,” Dasom shows you by pushing a middle wooden block out, “then you have to place it on top, like this.'' She places the same block on top of the tower.

“Ah, right! I just need to make sure if I want to win.”

“You can’t! I’m the best!”

“Oh really? And what about you?” you turn, brow raised and eyes playful.

“Pshh,” he scoffs, leaning forward. “Who do you think she takes after?”

He doesn’t think he’s ever lost a game so quickly.

Namjoon watches as you close Dasom’s door quietly from the hallway before you make your way back to the family room. “She’s out like a light. I guess all that tower building got to her.”

Namjoon snorts. He feels oddly disappointed as he watches you gather your things to go. Was it weird that he wanted you to stay? “Do you need me to get you a ride? I can call Jin to drive you home.”

“No, it’s fine! Really! I already ordered an Uber anyway.” You grab your coat near the door. Before Namjoon can unlock the door, you touch his shoulder. “Listen, thank you for inviting me today. I know you probably wanted to spend this day together instead, but I... “ you inhale, because you aren’t sure of what you want to actually say “thank you.”

Would it be weird to say how much better you made today? Probably. “You don’t… have to thank me. I think I should be the one doing the thanking. I really wanted this day to be special for Dasom and you… you definitely helped. So, thank you.”

The door opens, and the light of the hallway fills his dim flat. “Guess we’re even then.” you smile before turning, making your way to the elevator. Namjoon shuts the door once the sight of you is gone, but the smile on his face remains

“Guess we are.” he whispers wistfully

Perhaps stopping at a flower vendor when you’re already running late was a bad idea, but Namjoon wasn’t thinking about time. He had seen the bouquet of flowers and imagined the huge smile that would stretch across Dasom’s face, and that was all he needed to swerve into the left lane.

Now, though, as he anxiously watches the cars in front of him move a foot forward after thirty minutes, he’s sure he should have just left the fucking flowers alone.

Namjoon doesn’t know how long he’s been shifting his eyes from the traffic to the watch ticking around his wrist, but by a miracle, the cars start moving. Slowly, then he’s speeding down the highway, praying to the skies above he’ll make it in time. Even if he arrives in the midst of the dance, he can’t miss this recital. He won’t.

He sighs in relief when he sees the familiar glass building, though it’s cut short when he sees the parking lot. No available place in sight. Fuck. Namjoon is sure he looks insane right now, swerving around the parking lot in search for an empty spot, or really just any fucking spot that looks like it could fit his monster of a car.

Then the clouds seem to open up, and right near the entrance is a vacant spot. Namjoon swears his mouth almost waters at the sight. Quickly speeding around the lot, he parks, but not before flipping off the angry parent who tries to beat him to it. Namjoon exits his car, quickly grabbing his coat and the large bouquets of flowers from the backseat. He runs to the entrance, practically throwing the shriveled paper at the ticket clerk.

Namjoon slows as he nears the theatre doors, taking a deep breath before calmly opening it. He had completely forgotten to book seats in advance, so he’s not surprised to see the velvet seats filled to the brim. When he looks to the stage, he’s relieved to see that there’s still time until Dasom comes on.

Now, Namjoon knows he’s not the most… balanced person. It’s common knowledge that he trips over his feet and knocks things over sometimes. (Oh, but definitely more than the average person.) Now, if you were to ask Namjoon if he pays attention to his surroundings, he'd say yes.

But if you were to ask Namjoon what he tripped over, he wouldn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because now there’s a furious mother with a horrendous bob cut glaring at him, and what he thinks to be a broken camcorder on the floor. The only thing he can manage is an awkward smile and an even more awkward apology. Namjoon offers to give her the cost for repairs, hell, even offers to buy her a new one. The woman snatches the bills from his hands but she doesn’t go back to minding her business like he thought she would. No, instead she starts to argue with him, in the middle of her child’s recital, no less!

Namjoon can’t do anything but stare at her as she blabbers on about how horrible he is for throwing her camcorder on the floor. (Not like it had much life left, that thing looked like it was from 2007.) She’s damn near spitting on his face, and causing other parents to turn around and glare at them. As if it was his fault. Who knew she had such an attachment to the damn thing!

A hand lands on his shoulder, and for a second he’s sure it’s security ready to escort him out of the building. But when he turns, he’s surprised to see it’s you. Like an angel had ascended from the clouds to save Namjoon from the wrath of a ballet mom. And just like that, you’re leading him away, taking a seat two rows before the stage. Namjoon’s eyes widen at the sight of the empty seat beside you.

It’s that feeling again, and Namjoon’s palms start to get sweaty as he takes a seat. “Jesus, thank you for that,” he whispers, relishing your quiet laughter that follows.

“Of course. She was probably a blink away from going full-blown Karen on you.” you tease.

“Oh, and that wasn’t?”

“Oh, Joon, you haven’t seen how angry ballet moms can get.” you both laugh, huddled together as if you’re sharing a special secret. It seems so natural. As if this is where he’s supposed to be. So much that Namjoon almost doesn’t catch the nickname, but how could he miss it when you say it just like she used to?

The stage lights darken, and Namjoon is grateful for the excuse to look elsewhere. He’s sure if he would have stared at you for just a bit longer, he would have done something completely and utterly stupid. “This is her.” you whisper, and Namjoon buries the thought away.

A blue hue shines across the stage before the soft melody begins to play, filling the room with the sounds of strings and keys. One by one, tiny swans begin to come into view, prancing around the stage. Namjoon catches sight of Dasom, looking adorable in her white tutu and he can’t help the proud smile that makes its way onto his face. He watches with adoration as she does her pirouettes, and maybe there’s some water overflowing in his eyes as they finish their dance, bowing towards the audience.

You both stand, clapping and cheering the loudest, uncaring of the stares from the snobby rich parents because you’re both too damn proud of Dasom to care. For a moment, Namjoon pretends that it’s different, simpler. That it’s not only his child on stage but yours. Ours. He thinks he likes the sound of that too much.

Once the show ends, you lead Namjoon backstage where the buzz of dozens of girls talking fills the air. You tell him that you need to check in on the other kids and disappear through a hallway. He spots Dasom quickly, or rather, she spots him.

“Daddy! You came!”

Namjoon lifts Dasom with his free arm, twirling her around before placing a big kiss on her forehead. Her giggles fill him with delight, and he doesn’t care that his cheeks hurt from how hard he’s been smiling. “Of course I came, angel. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He places her on the ground before he grabs the bouquet of sunflowers from his other arm. The sight of her favourite flower makes Dasom jump with joy. She takes the flowers, and Namjoon silently coos at how much smaller they make her look. Then she spots the other bouquet of flowers in his arm. She scrunches her brows together, about to ask who those are for before her eyes catch something behind Namjoon.

“Ms. ____!”

“Dasom!”

Dasom jumps into your arms, and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “You did so well! I’m so proud of that pirouette!” You twirl her around once her feet hit the ground, smiling as you watch her stumble slightly. Namjoon can’t help but smile too.

“Look what daddy got me, Ms. ____! Look!” Dasom lifts the flowers up, almost shoving them into your face.

“Wow, these are very beautiful, Dasom!”

“Look! He got you some too!” she giggles, and you look at her confusedly then at Namjoon. He sighs, looking pointedly at Dasom despite the cherry hue making its way across his cheeks. She giggles once again before running to her friends. “Dasom!” but it's futile.

If it weren’t for the consistent chatter, Namjoon’s sure there would be an agonizing silence to fill the space between you. You walk closer to him, looking down at your shoes bashfully. “Ah, these-” he takes the bouquet from his arm, “these are for you.”

You looked surprised to say the least. Eyes wide and glassy, your mouth falling ajar. “Wow, uh, really?” you ask, glancing up from the bouquet. He nods shyly.

Listen, he had only planned to buy Dasom her favourite flowers. But then he caught sight of these beautiful yellow roses, tips painted a light amber orange. Somehow they reminded him of you. And the way you had left him with his heart feeling lighter for the first time in years the other night. Maybe it was a way of saying thank you. He’ll admit, he didn’t think it all the way through, but the way you’re smiling at him right now makes him think it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.

There’s a moment where it seems to just be you and him, despite the tons of parents and children running around. He’s only focused on you, and the way your eyes drop to his lips, if only for a millisecond. Namjoon wants to say it. God, he wants to say it so badly. “Listen I… I’ve been meaning to ask you,” his voice fades away as his eyes catch yours. Hopeful. Beautiful. Glimmering.

Just like hers.

“Do you, uh, need a ride home?”

And the bubble bursts.

You step away, looking at anything but him and he hates it. He despises it. He wants you to look at him like that again. He wants nothing more than to pull you back and kiss you senselessly, like his mind is screaming for him to do. But he can’t. He can’t do it for some fucking reason and he almost wants to cry in frustration because why can’t this just be easier? Why is it so hard to move on? You don’t deserve this. You deserve so much better than what he can offer you. And that thought keeps him still.

“Uh, sure.”

Quiet.

Say something, idiot! Tell her what you’ve been dying to say! Just fucking say it!

Namjoon hates himself for the next words that tumble out of his mouth.

“Let’s find Dasom.”

The drive to your house is just like it was before, except this time there’s no chatter to fill the emptiness. Dasom is sound asleep in the backseat. You've never seemed more distant than now, facing the window, body pressed against the door. You had almost begged to go in the back with Dasom, and Namjoon doesn’t know why he didn’t just let you.

How did it come to this? This wasn’t what he wanted. This night wasn’t supposed to go like this. Everything should have gone differently.

He doesn’t know how he’ll ever fix this. If things will go back to normal. If he completely ruined it. But he’s too afraid to ask. Too afraid to know.

Namjoon has never hated the quiet more.

The sight of your apartment complex fills him with dread. All he can think about is all he wants to say, all he should have said, all he wants to take back. God, Namjoon wishes he could take it back. If only there was a way to turn back the time. Why had he been so afraid to make a move? Why did it hurt so much? But he knows going back wouldn’t help. Not when he doesn’t know if he would have done it differently.

His car comes to a stop, and the doors unlock. He faintly catches the small thank you before the passenger door slams shut. Namjoon watches as you make your way up the pathway, feet moving briskly and it feels like he’s watching you walk away from him.

You’re shuffling through your bag, looking for your key. And fuck, is he really just going to this go?  Is he that stubborn that he can’t see past himself? He can’t. He can’t let you go. Not like this.

Well do something, dumbass!

The door of his car is thrown open, and before he can overthink it-

“____!”

You still. You turn.

Namjoon shuts the door. He walks up the steps and stops a few feet away from you, but he feels like he’s miles away. You look up at him, questioning. Your eyes aren’t the same ones. Not like you looked at him before. Yet they’re still warm. Inviting. Namjoon is tongue-tied, and all those words he wanted to say are gone now.

“Are we… good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

“I just…” he scratches the back of his neck. “That moment back at the recital. I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” you say, simply. When he looks at you, he can’t tell what you’re feeling. You’ve blocked him off. “Namjoon, really. It’s fine.”

But is it really? He wants to ask. But he doesn’t. It’s quiet again, this time the sound of the wind rustling the browning leaves above filling the space. Still.

“I… god, I don’t know why this is so hard. Ever since, you know,” you don’t. “I… I didn’t think I'd ever get an opportunity to…” he inhales, unsure of what he wants to say first.

“I just feel like I ruined it so carelessly.”

You don’t say anything for a few moments. You only stare at him, really stare at him. Like you can see through his mirage, through the walls he’s spent so long building up. You’re taking it all, but there’s nothing he can take back from you.

“You didn’t.” you whisper it so quietly, Namjoon would have thought his mind had taken pity on him. But a smile slips onto your face. Unlike the other ones. It doesn’t fill him with joy. It doesn’t give him butterflies. This one hurts.

And he knows you’re telling the truth.

“This… It might take a while.”

The wind picks up. The leaves rustle. The cold, biting.

“That’s ok. I’ll wait as long as you need me to.”

Your lips are bittersweet on his tongue.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AGAIN TO KARLA !! ILYYYY <3

[ayyyez]

heyy ! can i request some headcanons about neji and shikamaru waking up with a boner after having a wet dream with their fem crush ? like how do they feel about it, how do they act when they see her after, etc. Yes i like nsfw btw i love ur blog💕

a/n: yeah sure thing! I’m glad you love my blog! warnings: 18+ readers only content: wet dreams, masturbation, fantasising (NSFW) under the cut!

Shikamaru Nara

-One word: troublesome.

-He had been having these thoughts about you every now again since he realised he was attracted to you. But honestly he didn’t plan on pursuing you or even telling you. It was too complicated right now.

-But he was a little masochistic about it. He would push aside the thoughts and avoided touching himself - mainly because he knew he would think of you and he didn’t need the guilt that came afterward. It’s no wonder he has the dream.

-It happens the night before his day off. He has a particularly deep sleep and for him that’s the only time he really dreams. And this time he just had to dream about you coming on to him, kissing him and going down on him. Kami, he could feel your lips around his cock. So warm so good. 

-Shikamaru is grinding himself against his mattress.

-Then he is on top of you whispering something about how the two of you shouldn’t do this. But you tell him you want it that you want him. But now the two of you are in the shower and he is kissing you. 

-His arm slid under his pillow, cheek pressing against it as he rolled his hips against the mattress again.

-He has you pressed against the wall, holding your thigh as he thrust into you. ‘I like...your hair down.’ You said as you grab hold of it. And wow now he was really turned on. Suddenly he wanted to never wear his hair up again. ‘Shikamaru...’ His name leaving your lips. It’s sweeter than honey. 

-There was a loud buzzing noise and Shikamru’s eyes open to find his alarm blaring. He had forgotten to turn it off. With a sigh he hits the button and rolled onto his back. That was when he realised that that problem, the very hard problem leaking in his pants. 

-Now he had two options: rubbing one out or a cold shower. He couldn’t 100% get on board with either option but one was far more tempting than the other. He had embraced too many cold showers this week alone trying to stifle his thoughts. And it had been ages since he had jerked off. It probably wasn’t going away that easily. Fuck it. 

-Closing his eyes he reached down to palm himself through his pants. His fingertips lingered on the wetness there, the precum had been leaking before he even woke up. With a firm touch he teased himself a little, tracing around the outline of his cock. Kami, he was so sensitive from the dream. 

-He could still see you on your knees in front of him, taking his erection into your mouth so willingly. Damn. He shuddered. He was close already. Wasting no time he pulled down his pants to release his erection. He hissed as it exposed it the cooler air. 

-Biting his lips, Shikamaru spread the pre along his shaft and began pumping it with hard, long strokes. He tried to chase the images of the dream but they were fading quickly. Instead he found himself fantasising new scenarios. You on top of him, you under him, you you you. He came hard, barely reaching to the bedside table for a tissue in time. 

-When he came down from his high the guilt kicked in but not as bad as he had thought. Instead he felt a little hopeful? Like maybe you wanted him too. Shit. It was too good to think about. He peeled himself off the bed to go and shower. 

-The next time he saw you was later that day. He realised he had an errand he had forgotten to do and rush into the village after his shower. He had forgotten to tie is hair up when he ran smack bang into you. With a chuckle you apologised as made small talk.

-Shikamaru acted his usual self but on the inside he panicked a little. He couldn’t get those thoughts out of his mind. And he felt a little hot. Definitely hyper aware of you, especially since he kept looking at your lips. 

-  ‘I like your hair down.’ You said catching him completely off guard. His eyes widened and he completely shut down. It was exactly what you had said in that half-remembered dream this morning. He couldn’t help but blush. 

- ‘Thanks.’ He said, scratching the back of his neck. Maybe one day he would tell you how he felt, minus the part about the dream of course. 

Neji Hyuga  

-Neji always ends up having wet dreams because he refuses to masturbate a lot lol. It’s having a crush that awakens this side of him in the first place and he thinks it’s disrespectful to think about you and he can’t not think about you. (chill out Neji lol) 

-The odd time he does jerk it it has to be in the shower because it makes him feel a little bit better plus no mess to clean up. He is efficient okay. And he can also pretend it didn’t happen. 

-Then one night he gets back from a long mission, showers and crashes the second he gets into bed. He started dreaming and it was a little weird. He was walking through the village with his team when they reached ichiraku. Except when they went in it was a dessert shop run by the ichiraku workers. And then his team was gone and you were sitting in front of him. 

-You were talking to him one minute and stroking his hand the next. But it was normal everything felt normal. The next thing he knew he was walking into your bedroom, with you leading him by the hand. And you kissed him again and again. 

-Neji rolled onto his back and thrust his hips into the air with a groan.

-Then you were on top of him, lips not breaking from his and rolling your hips. His hands were on your hips coaxing you along as he pushed up against you. He was hard and needy and you were his. Oh kami, he wanted you more than anything in the world. 

-His hands snaked down and palmed his erection before he rolled onto his stomach. 

-Your hands were on his chest, running up his neck, into his hair. You pulled him closer and he let you. He thrust up against you feeling the sweet friction against his erection. His hands slid up and down your back then onto your backside with a squeeze. You moaned against his lips and he smirked into the kiss. ‘So hard for me.’ You whispered and he almost came right then and there. 

-Neji rolled his hips over and over against the mattress his erection leaking precum against his pants.

-Then his hands pushed under your top, feeling your skin beneath his fingertips. He was about to tell you something, something about his feelings when suddenly he awoke. With a groan he rolled onto his back and rubbed his eyes. Then he looked down at his rock hard erection, straining against his pants. 

-The sight made him sit up a little straighter. ‘Damn it.’ This was exactly what he wanted to avoid. Getting hard over you without your consent was too much. What you would think of him... although the dream had sparked something inside of him. What if you actually wanted him???? The possibility made him shiver. 

-He couldn’t continue this. He couldn’t...right? Biting his lips Neji groaned and pressed his palms against his face. Fuck it. He slung his legs over the side of his bed, pulled his pants down just enough to free his erection and started pumping. It hurt-barely lubricated but it was his punishment to keep rubbing through it. 

-Biting down against his bottom lip Neji pushed down a moan. He was at breaking point already, grabbing some tissues from the bedside table. He focused lots of pressure at the head with every stroke. Then he was hunched over and cumming.

-The second he finished he disposed of the tissue and stormed over to the shower. He wanted very badly to ignore what had happened but he couldn’t. These feelings he had were getting worse and he didn’t know what to do.

-When he finished there was a knock at his door. And he was mortified to find you standing there. ‘Want to get lunch with me?’ You asked and Neji blushed so hard you thought he had a fever. He couldn’t look you in the eye the whole day. He was a flustered MESS!