#i don’t care if that’s the genuine reason and he means no maliciousness behind that but that’s so fucking stupid

[lilgynt]

also my brother may come home this weekend to help with dad but he has to find a cat sitter 😐 okay go fuck ur self

[bestworstcase]

First i want to say that i love your rwby analysys, but i just discovered your blog, so can you explain to me why you hate Ozpin so much? Like, every minor thing he does and says must have some malicious intention behind it, but everything Salem does is part of a big plan that means that she's not actually evil?

ooh it’s been a while since we had one of these! 1. i think perhaps a closer read of my salem analysis is called for, because you’ll notice that i am, er, not shy about noting that salem is evil and this is in fact a central tenet of my reading of the narrative; i just don’t think she’s a one-note genocidal lunatic and it is extremely obvious that the narrative is heading in a "the brothers were and are wrong, and salem wants them gone" direction; 2. oz is second in my heart only to salem and cinder, which sort of speaks for itself in terms of "this character did bad things!" not being remotely a bad thing in my book, 3. and speaking of cinder, i get exactly as cranky about uwuified fanon sad wet rag ozpin who’s never done a thing wrong as i do uwufied fanon poor wittle cindy who doesn’t want to hurt people but salem makes her do it for exactly the same reason, which is that it strips out everything that makes these characters narratively and emotionally compelling in favor of mashing them into gutless marshmallow pod people for the sake of… i don’t know, making them neat and bland and easily digestible, i guess? uwu?

4. this is an ozlem house

5. i don’t think ozma has ever acted with malicious intention; rather, he’s been coerced into this situation where his faith in his god, his intense desire to do the right thing, and his terror of what will happen if he fails or disobeys—in combination with a divine curse that is literally designed to prevent him from being able to change or break free, because he has a reflection of himself monitoring his thoughts and actions all the time—are at war with his true desire (he wants to be with salem) and his conscience (he knows that salem was right about what is necessary to fulfill his task, that uniting the whole world under one creed is impossible except by genocidal conquest, and he cannot bring himself to do it because it’s wrong). he’s trying very hard to do the right thing in a situation where he genuinely believes his only options are to commit genocide for his god or sacrifice the whole world for his love and he is desperate to figure out a third option that does not end with "rocks fall everybody dies;" thence the lies and manipulation and all the miserable moral sacrifices he’s ever made.

6. the reason this is an ozlem house, in the sense that my reading of the narrative in its entirety is predicated on the ozlem reconciliation, is that salem and ozma are two sides of a coin: she is doing terrible things in pursuit of a world where the gods aren’t holding a knife to remnant’s throat and he has done terrible things for the sake of the same. their conflict isn’t evil-vs-good, but apostate-vs-zealot; salem believes the gods can and must be defied and ozma believes her defiance is doomed to failure. salem tells him that in order to unite the world he needs to spread his word and crush all who deny him; as the king of vale, ozma uses the divine relic of destruction to lay waste to not only his enemies but even his own allies, thus he forges the vytal accords that established the united global order in which the story takes place. he’s a better person than she is—because she’s been living in exile for thousands of years and her capacity for caring about other people has withered away to almost nothing as a consequence—but they are in every sense equals.

7. the narrative is overtly not on ozpin’s side? he has a whole atonement arc about it in atlas—& this is why i made the comparison to uwuified fanon cinder earlier, because the framing with regard to ozpin is very emphatically clear that he does a lot of things that are not good, and are in fact pretty sinister and in some cases (amber, pyrrha) outright evil, and he has to make the choice and put in real meaningful effort to be better. i don’t think there’s anything to be gained from ignoring what is plainly in the text of the story, especially when rwby is categorically disinterested in sorting its characters into neat little good-or-bad boxes. there’s no such thing as pure evil—that’s been the explicit textual conceit since volume one—and the implied converse is that there’s no such thing as pure good, either. (which is a conceit that ozlem exemplifies.)

8. i threw a fucking PARTY when we found out salem razed vale, i get the vapors every time i think about what sort of narrative escalation we can expect in V10 given that something as huge as razing vale can happen off screen to set the stakes for vacuo. not that i don’t also adore characters who are good or who (like oz in v7-8) grow and change to become better, because i do, but i really can’t emphasize enough how much i Do Not hate fictional characters on the basis of them doing awful things. what i want from a character is for them to be interesting, which ozpin is. what you’re perceiving as me hating on him is me dissecting him under a microscope because i love him to bits.

9. the ozlem screeds will continue until morale improves

[g-kat423]

If Alcina being a lesbian is so important to you why does she have an ex husband in your fic

I’m going to assume this is a genuine question without malicious intent so I will provide a real answer.

This could actually apply to 2 of my fics, but I’m guessing you’re talking about Something Sweet since it’s the one that I update more frequently.

Gonna plop this under a read more since it’s gotten long

Alright, so, the reason for her having an ex husband has been stated throughout the fic. She felt she had to be closeted and to meet certain expectations set for her both by society and by her parents. Sure, people are more accepting now, not that there isn’t still bigotry or pressure to conform, but with the fic taking place in 2022(I started it in 2022 and only a few months have passed in fic time and while I never explicitly stated the year, that’s what everything is based off of, giving Alcina a 1978 birth year and the reader 2001) that means Alcina got married in 2008. Idk if you were around during that time, but homophobia was rampant, being gay was a punchline. It’s not something you would talk about, there’s no way to know if your friends would actually stay your friends and not spread vicious rumors about you. Marriage equality in most states, not a thing. Again, bigots still exist, but it’s generally not this life ruining thing for people to find out you’re queer. Alcina would have come of age in the 90’s which would make that even worse.

That aside, I tend to explore themes of coming out later and families not being being accepting because it’s all I know. I tend to process my trauma through my writing. That and I’m sure it’s no secret that I’ve taken heavy inspiration from Carol only with a sugar baby twist. I also wanted her to have younger, biological children since I felt that would be fitting of a 44 year old divorcee rather than having adopted adult children like she does in canon. Sure, they could have been adopted or older, but there needed to be a reason for her to stay with Kurt for the amount of time that she did. I needed her connected to Karl in someway too. Heisenberg was originally supposed to have a twin brother so I went off of that and now Alcina has her annoying ex brother-in-law(who actually isn’t so bad in this universe, but Alcina won’t hear of it)

As for The Fall of the House of Dimitrescu. I’m sure no one is asking, but in that case Alcina was weak from her hereditary blood disease and didn’t have the energy to be defiant the same way she was as a child. Her father had lost his wife and he had no desire to continue caring for Alcina so he set her up with somebody who she reluctantly went along with. In that case, Alcina wasn’t even aware of her attraction to women yet, she just didn’t understand why she didn’t feel a spark with her soon to be husband. She also assumed it was normal for sex to be an unpleasant “wifely duty.” Once she finally made the connection and had an affair with a woman, turns out she liked sex quite a bit lmao.

Idk, all this aside, I know I’m not the only one who has given Alcina a husband in some context yet still fully believes shes a lesbian. I also have plenty of fics where she’s never had one. The first multichapter fic I wrote she literally left her home and privileged life behind to struggle until she made it as musician rather than marry a man. I don’t think it’s a crime to explore other possibilities. I have so many different headcanons for Alcina and all are universe dependent whether that be modern AU, the canon compliant timeline where she never marries, the canon compliant timeline where she does, and all the other in between stuff that diverges from canon. She’s one of my favorite characters of all time and I love fleshing her out.

[winns-stuff]

LO RANT:

I’m gonna say this cause I’ve been seeing a lot of Minthe edits and finally understanding more and more of her perspective. Persephone is a homewrecker, absolute homewrecker and if this was anyone else the fans would’ve thrown a tantrum because why is it Persephone can get away with knowingly accepting affection, gifts, money, clothes, and even a phone from Hades but Minthe is shamed for also receiving things such as that.

It’s just so annoying and incredibly incompetent to me how they literally do the same things all the damn time yet everyone loves Persephone. Me personally, I hate her with all of my heart I truly believe that she’s very malicious and self serving at the end of the day. She reminds me of those villains targeting old lonely vulnerable rich men all for their money while trying to mask their behavior behind a sweet innocent character…. Oh wait. She’s literally doing just that, like always she’s doing shit like that. She literally took money out of Hades’ account for an apartment without even asking, yes you can argue that they discussed about Persephone moving out but that doesn’t just give someone the okay to take their money and run with it to buy stuff you want. She’s always being a huge extreme brat and it really makes me feel like Demeter is a victim of her damn behavior (I’ve always thought this but it just gives me more reason for it now) because how the hell are you going to get upset at your mother for coddling you when you accept and even welcome being babied by everyone around you. This whole independency thing falls through the floor when you realize that Persephone doesn’t want any independence, all she wants is to be able to get away with things she does and obviously Demeter was more strict with her (unlike Hades) so she couldn’t necessarily do anything without being watched.

I genuinely feel for Minthe, not her actions but her mental state had to be breaking apart with every single day and those two assholes just made it worse. Persephone was always aware that Minthe and Hades were together yet she still allowed herself to be seen publicly with him, she allowed him to get physical, and she didn’t mind kissing him right after they broke up. She was obviously waiting for them to break up to do more bold moves just to spite Minthe and she didn’t even care about how she would feel. I get that you’re jealous that Hades is giving his money away to someone who wasn’t you but that doesn’t mean that you could basically start seeing him and playing fucking house right in the office that she works in. That’s trifling as fuck and I’d be pissed too because not only are you embarrassing me in front of Persephone by showing her that I’m not worth any dignity or respect but you’re embarrassing me in my own workplace as well, you just know that the assistants and other staff members were spreading it around like wild fire and that had to be so stressful to deal with.

Speaking of that actually, fuck Persephone for that because she keeps whining and crying about how rumors made everyone at her college not want to speak with her yet she’s completely fine with doing things that actively ruin Minthe’s reputation and make her a spectacle for everyone to see. That’s one of the main reasons why I don’t feel any sympathy for her and I don’t see why so many people are so keen on protecting her, she’s really not shit and she’s genuinely a terrible person and we all know that if she were a real person no one would like her at all. At least Minthe had a reason for asking Hades for money, she literally only had him to rely on since he insisted on paying for everything and giving her a job, there was an obvious dependency on Hades that he started his damn self (which I have no idea why he thought trapping Minthe into this relationship she never even wanted in the first place would ensure not only a good relationship but a good marriage as well, like you made her lose her job which was the only thing keeping her from getting evicted and he knew it, his job was the only thing keeping her afloat and knowing Hades I just know he paid for the rent by himself cause that’s just how he is, he did the same with Persephone when they went shopping he insisted on buying things for her and spending money, it’s not insane to think that he did the same thing with Minthe’s apartment and her bills) what’s Persephone’s excuse of sticking around Hades and receiving money and gifts from him? She’s incredibly privileged and the heiress to a whole company if she wanted to actually be independent and get a job of her own she could’ve. She’s not like Minthe, she has lots of powerful connections whereas Minthe only had Hades, so she just enjoys being spoiled and she chooses to use only Hades’ money for the things she wants.

Last thing, but I find it incredibly telling that Hades was never truly there for Minthe emotionally. He only wanted to be there when he wanted something from her, never not once did he stand up for her or show her off half as much as he does with Persephone. He’s loud and open about his relationship with her while we barely even see praise coming from Hades and Minthe, it was almost as if he was embarrassed to be with her similar to what the comic wanted us to think with Minthe’s introduction. He listened to Hera bag on his girlfriend even before Persephone was in the picture for probably centuries and never did he ever say anything about it. He’s fucking friends with her! He’s friends and completely fine with everyone who has ever said something bad about Minthe and he doesn’t even care about all the things they said about her. And you expect me to be on their side? After everything you’ve shown us, I’m supposed to be happy that HxP are the only people getting happy endings and no one else that they screwed over to get there? Absolutely the fuck not.

That’s the end of this rant, I’m tired and incredibly irritated with the main couple they make me want to eat my own scalp. It’s so annoying how everyone lets them get away with anything yet Minthe and her fans are just evil for even having a shred of sympathy for her, like y’all stan a murderer and a slave owner. There’s no right choices.

[rocorambles]

Know Your Place

Pairing: Naoya x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Misogyny, Abuse, Rape/Non-Con, Humiliation, Degradation, Feet Stepping

Summary: You should have known better than to believe that Toji could protect you from the Zenin forever. Once a Zenin woman, always a Zenin woman and Naoya intends to make sure you fully understand that.

Growing up as a female in the Zenin clan means you’re always expected to serve, to look beautiful. Never speak unless requested to. Never look any of the men in the eyes. Obey. Be submissive and demure.

There are thousands of rules and dozens of leering eyes ready to punish you for a single minor infraction. So as much as you hate the life you’ve been born into, you know better than to act out and bring attention to yourself, knowing full well especially now as an adult woman that the price of transgressions are too high to pay.

You’d be incredibly fortunate for the usual heavy backhands Naobito and Ogi Zenin would grace your face with when you were still a minor, for the cruel condescending words Naoya would sneer at you. Those were child’s play compared to what’s in store for you now and you shudder when you remember the images of fellow female servants who had attempted to escape only to be easily captured, clothes stripped and body laid bare for the entire clan to see. You remember the fear that would make you tremble as the men howled in laughter and jeers as they took turns smacking their victim’s ass, pawing and groping her body. You remember sobbing when you were forced to watch as fists, cocks, objects that you thought were far too large were shoved between flailing legs.

But nothing keeps you in line more than the cold dread you’d feel heavy in your chest when you’d be forced to clean out the room of one of your ex-maids, preparing the room for the next poor soul born into a never ending life of servitude. As much as you hate this life, it’s still better than being tied up and forced to be nothing more than a Zenin sex doll, used by every man in the clan until there’s nothing left but an empty husk of skin.

So you keep your head down, ignoring the cruel words and predatory gazes that follow you. You enjoy the few moments you have in the servant quarters alone with your fellow maids, giggling and whispering to each other, pretending that you’re just normal women. Those friendships you form warm your heart and you take solace in the sympathetic glances and warm brief squeezes of hands when a Zenin man is particularly harsh in their treatment of you.

Maybe that’s why you can’t keep your body still when the woman who shares the same room as you accidentally spills hot tea all over Zenin Toji. And despite how terrified you are of Toji’s hulking figure and blood-stained reputation, you throw your body in between him and your friend, creating a feeble physical shield for her from his wrath.

A part of you is together enough to vaguely acknowledge how strange it is that Toji hasn’t roared a single word yet, hasn’t laid a hand on you. But you’re not foolish enough to think this is over and you throw yourself to the floor in a degrading groveling bow, begging him to forgive your friend, to have mercy on the both of you.

You know exactly who Zenin Toji is and you prepare yourself for the feeling of his infamous sword slicing through your neck. What you aren’t prepared for is the way he lets out a boisterous laugh, green eyes glimmering in amusement when he sees the bewildered look on your face as you tentatively peek up at him.

“You’ve got guts. Tell you what. I’ll forgive you and your clumsy friend if you become my personal maid. Deal?”

It’s a rhetorical question and you stiffly nod your head, tears forming in your eyes as you imagine the rest of your life chained to Toji’s bed, stuck in the lair of a beast.

Except your life isn’t anything like you had imagined and you’re stunned when Toji barks at you to go retire to your own room and get some rest so you’re ready to keep up with tomorrow.

Life is...surprisingly normal. Well as normal as it can be in the household of one of the top Jujutsu sorcerer clans in the world. You scowl at Toji as he teasingly throws a pile of sweat stained clothes and towels on top of your head as he walks out of the bath.

“You’re getting a little stronger, little lady. I almost even felt the punch you threw at me in training today.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the slight quirk of your lips and swell of pride at his backhanded compliment.

Toji isn’t anything like the rest of his clan and it goes deeper than just his lack of cursed energy or his supernatural strength. He’s kind. Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but you genuinely believe he has a good heart. Not once has he ever spoken maliciously to you. Not once has he ever laid a hand even borderline inappropriate or suggestive on you. And sure, you don’t necessarily enjoy doing his dirty laundry, cleaning his room, and making his bed every day and night, but he makes it easy to forget that you’re just a lowly maid.

He talks to you as if you’re his equal, carefully listening to you, acknowledging your points (even if he mocks you when you do say something silly or that he disagrees with). He invites you to eat meals with him. He trains you deeming you too wimpy to last long without at least some basic defense skills. Your time with Toji is one of the few moments of happiness you know and you greedily indulge.

But unknown to you, your new proximity to the black wolf of the Zenin clan has more than one eye looking at you in interest and above all, Zenin Naoya can’t stop fixating on you.

Naoya has always had a strange mix of respect, disdain, and jealousy towards the older man and he can’t help himself from wanting what Toji has, especially when the both of you look so irritatingly happy chattering away with each other as if you have no cares in the world. How dare a lowly Zenin servant look so carefree. How dare curse-less Toji make a mockery of the rest of the clan by living a shame-free life despite how hard they try to humiliate him for it.

Has Naoya ever been happy? Ever been relaxed?

He can’t remember ever laughing as hard as Toji is now in response to something you’ve said or done. He can’t remember smiling so freely like you are as you playfully slap Toji and try to get him to stop teasing you. A green eyed monster slithers inside of him and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s making his way towards the both of you.

“Aren’t you two as unseemly as usual. I know you don’t care for our clan’s reputation or rules, but really? Parading your slut around so shamelessly? That’s a new low even for you.”

It’s adorable how you scurry away, cowering behind Toji’s broad figure, fear written all over your face. And although Naoya had done this to get under Toji’s skin, he can’t help but wish the older man would storm off and leave you behind in his clutches. He wonders if you’d be this scared and docile underneath him, wonders how tight you’d be while you tremble in fear while he sinks inside of you…

His thoughts are abruptly interrupted as Toji snorts, slinging a muscular arm over your shoulder and dragging you off with him, subtly tucking you safely into his side and away from Naoya’s hungry gaze.

Usually being ignored and dismissed would rile him up more, but as he watches the two of you amble away and sees your innocent and confused face, unsure what had just happened and what’s causing Toji’s strangely touchy behavior, his appetite is whetted and you’re what he’s craving.

What he hadn’t accounted for is how protective Toji is of you. So strange for a man who doesn’t seem to care about anyone except himself. But Naoya supposes that’s just a testament for how good you must be in bed. He can’t think of any other reason why Toji would waste his time and efforts on an insignificant woman like you.

You’re never left alone long enough for him to corner. Just when he sees you by yourself and swoops in to shove you in a spare room, Toji suddenly looms beside you, green eyes sternly pinning Naoya down with a warning. And as much as Naoya would love to rise to the challenge, he knows that he doesn’t stand a chance against Toji, so he slinks away in defeat, again and again.

It only makes him want you more and he grits his teeth as he slams into one of the whores in his bed who vaguely reminded him of you if he squints in just the right way.

He supposes he should be more remorseful as the news of Toji’s death spreads like wildfire through the Zenin household. But all he can see is a light at the end of the tunnel. It takes every last bit of restraint in him not to immediately hunt you down and devour you, but he bides his time. After all the teasing and taunting you’ve put him through just one taste isn’t going to satisfy him anymore.

No, he won’t just ruin you and throw you away after a single night. He plans on dragging this out, using you, tasting you until it fully sinks in that this is all you’re good for, that he owns every part of you inside and out.

His cock twitches at your swollen face covered in salty tear streaks. You look so pathetic, so scared when he takes his time strolling into your room, kicking your roommate out and locking the door behind him. It’s just the two of you and he feels the rush of power thrumming through his veins at how you tremble and cower before him. If only you were naked and not in those dreary mourning clothes…

But he has ample time for that and he wants to enjoy corrupting you, take his time watching your downfall.

“You’re my maid starting now.”

You mutely nod, but make no move and Naoya scoffs.

“I know Toji was soft with you, but let me set expectations straight. I’m nothing like him. Now get moving.”

“But this is my room-”

You yelp in fright as Naoya’s hand grips the front of your shirt and hauls your body until you’re forced to press against his body, feeling his breath against your face as he sneers at you.

“Sluts don’t get the luxury of their own room or bed. Toji spoiled you. Now move your stuff to my quarters. The only place you’ll be sleeping from now on is my floor or my bed. Understood?”

It’s a rhetorical question and all you can do is crumple to the ground when he lets go, staring unseeingly at Naoya’s retreating back as he exits your room, the weight of your new reality crashing down on you.

Sleeping on the floor is humiliating and uncomfortable. Naoya makes it a point to “accidentally” step on you when he gets on and off the bed, rudely nudging you awake with his feet, resting his soles on your face until you’re flailing around to breathe. But it isn’t as bad as wondering when the worst is to come.

At least you’re clothed. At least your innocence is still intact. So as much as you feel like nothing more than a dog, you take it. After all, your new life isn’t so different from your life before Toji aside from your new sleeping arrangements and the headache of being in close proximity to Zenin Naoya.

It’s entertaining enough in the beginning, watching you curl up on the floor like an obedient puppy, admiring how you never talk or lash out when he literally walks all over you. He even buys you a pretty new collar with his name engraved on it linked to a leash he holds in his hand or leaves tied to his bed.

But unlike a real pet you never warm up to him, always looking at him warily, body tense and nervous in his presence. Not once do you look at him with even the slightest hint of affection or fondness you used to stare at Toji with. He supposes that can’t be helped and he doesn’t care for anything disgusting like your love. But you don’t even seem remotely attracted to him as a man and that’s something his ego won’t allow for.

He knows women can’t stand his attitude. But he also knows that at their base, all women are sluts easily swayed by his good looks. He can’t even count the number of women who’ve insulted him to his face only to end up in his bed, moaning and screaming his name and their love for his cock.

You were supposed to be no different. But your continued disinterest in him infuriates him to the point where petty humiliation isn’t enough to sate his hurt pride.

“Strip and get in bed.”

You’re frozen stiff and he sneers at you while you’re on the verge of terrified tears.

“What? I’m not good enough for you? Don’t act like you aren’t used to this. I’m sure your old master had you warming his bed all the time-”

“Toji would never!”

Even he’s stunned by the weight of his backhand hit as it makes contact with your face, by the venom in his voice as he spits out his next words.

“Don’t you ever say that name in my presence again.”

He takes a few seconds to calm his breath, the crimson of the blood trickling from your nose grounding him as he finds his center once more. But then a thought crosses his mind as that red river finds its way to your lips.

“As punishment, let’s make sure you know what your mouth’s purpose is from now on. Words are wasted on a dumb whore like you anyway. Kneel and open wide.”

It’s oddly arousing watching your tears and blood stream down your face as you choke on his cock. Your efforts are half-hearted at best, but he doesn’t mind. Not when the instinctual way your throat flutters around him as he roughly thrusts his hips into your tight mouth suffices. He can see why Toji kept you around and he groans as his hand slips behind your head and pushes you until your face is squished against his abdomen.

Your mouth feels amazing and your muffled screams for air only add to the vibrations around his shaft. It’s enough to have him spilling down your throat and he keeps you tightly pressed against him, forcing you to drink every last drop he gifts you with. And only when your throat finally stops its forced swallowing does he release you, leering down at your pitiful form heaving for breath.

The bitter taste of his seed is all you can taste, all you can focus on as you greedily inhale much needed oxygen. You pray that he’s done, but you whimper when a strong hand easily pulls you up and begins to pull off your clothing. Instinctively you try to push the invasive appendages away from you, but you freeze at Naoya’s growled threat.

“Don’t make me hurt you any more than I have to.”

You know it’s not an empty threat. You’ve seen the quite literally broken bodies of women who had resisted too much against the Zenin men, against Naoya specifically. So you limply drop your arms to your side and stay still as he humiliatingly gropes and examines you like merchandise.

All you can do is clench your eyes shut as Naoya’s hands grab your breasts, kneading and weighing them in his hands, cruelly prodding and pinching your nipples to see your reactions. All you can do is bite back a muffled yelp when he forces you onto your knees and forearms on the bed, squeezing and smacking your ass, spreading apart your cheeks to closely look at your fluttering holes. All you can do is cry into the sheets as he fingers you open, breaching both untouched openings, his thick digits stretching your tight walls apart and taking their time to thoroughly defile you, using your own slick to loosen your ass.

You try to disassociate, try to imagine that this is just a medical examination. But your fantasies are shattered when something hard and thick slaps against your inner thigh as Naoya rearranges himself behind you, rubbing the head of his cock back and forth against your dripping entrance, coating his shaft with your juices.

“Naoya! Sir, please. I’ve never...You can’t-”

Your pleas are cut short as his hand painfully strikes your ass.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re ruining the mood with your sniveling voice. Remember what I taught you? Sluts don’t get to speak freely. They only get to moan and thank their masters.”

You don’t even know if you can speak even if you wanted to, not when his cock is forced into you in one go, the thick and lengthy shaft ruthlessly tearing you apart. It fills you, stuffing you full, and you don’t think there’s even room left in your body for words. The only thing you can release is a strangled scream, eyes and mouth blown wide open, fingers clawing at the sheets as you try to remotely ground yourself as the foreign sensation overwhelms you.

But Naoya has never been a patient man and there’s a certain sense of entertainment from watching you struggle and writhe underneath him. He begins a relentless pace before you can adjust to the feeling of him inside of you, hips slamming in and out of you, heavy balls bouncing against you.

You’re so tight, so hot, so wet and he can feel a rush of power from the confusion he begins to see setting on your face as forced pleasure begins to mix in with your fear and pain. Moans and high-pitched keens are finding their way in between distressed cries and he smirks at the way your eyes begin to roll back in your head, the way your hips begin to meet him halfway, greedily pushing back against him when he teasingly slows down his pace.

He laughs at the humiliation and embarrassment running rampant on your face when you whine as he abruptly stops

“Wow you really are a slut. You fucking love my cock, don’t you?”

He rolls his eyes as you adamantly shake your head in denial, bored by your playing hard to get act. But as he admires the way your pussy lips obscenely envelop his cock, your pretty puckered hole beckons to him.

“You’re fucking filthy, clamping down on me like a bitch in heat from just a thumb in your ass. You like that? Like having all your holes filled? Maybe when I break you in, I’ll share you with the rest of the clan. Bet you’d love that. Love having cocks in every hole, using every inch of you.”

Your orgasm takes the both of you by surprise in its speed and intensity and Naoya howls in laughter as he resumes fucking you, chasing his own high with his thumb still lodged in your ass, groaning in pleasure at how he can feel the tremors of your orgasm, the way your body convulses in the aftershocks of pleasure and onset of overstimulation.

You’re breathtaking like this, fucked silly, delirious, just a warm body and toy for him to do with as he pleases and it doesn’t take long for him to join you over the edge and add to the sticky mess already inside of you.

With a lewd pop he retracts his thumb from your now lewdly fluttering hole, shoving it into your mouth for you to clean and he smiles at how mindlessly obedient you are as you suck and lick the digit clean like it's your favorite lollipop.

You grimace when he finally pulls out, already feeling his cum beginning to leak out of you and you try and find the strength in your trembling and used body to push yourself off the bed. It’s time to retreat with your tail between your legs and you want nothing more than to spend the rest of the evening in the shower, harshly scrubbing every evidence of your utter defeat and conquest under boiling hot water.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You open your mouth to speak, only to quickly clamp it back shut, remembering how your words only seemed to dig you deeper and deeper into trouble.

“You’re going to wash me and yourself and once we’re clean, you’re going to remain naked and in my bed until I’m ready to use you again. Think of it as a promotion. No more worrying your stupid little head about cleaning and laundry anymore. You’re being upgraded to my personal sex slave and bed warmer. Come on, I don’t have all day.”

You wonder if this is what it feels like to walk the plank, to approach your own death sentence as you robotically trail after Naoya’s figure towards his lavish bathroom. And as you lay in his bed that night, pristine and bare like a glorified sex doll, his broad arm possessively slung around your waist and forcing your bodies to mold together, you bid farewell to your past life, dreading what the future has in store for you.

[chiveburger]

hongseok has a whole live where he spends 30 minutes talking about his members... he goes in depth to talk about each member’s personalities and defining characteristics and this is what he says:

kino: when he first met kino, he couldn’t believe that someone like him could actually exist. he didn’t realize that someone could be so pure and innocent and good hearted, and kino wasn’t shy about caring for others eithers. not only did he do things secretly he’d be upright about being kind to others to the point that hongseok wondered if this was all an act. If kino was just faking it or maintaining his image that way. over time he realized that he really was like that all the time... he was nice to everyone, good to everyone and he had a personality that not everyone can emulate. as you age, hongseok realizes that it’s hard to be someone that is so altruistic and genuine. “Is he really a perfect human being or is he just faking this” were the two choices hongseok thought of when he first met kino

hui: hui is a really really good leader, and his job is a lot harder than it seems. for him to even take the lead requires a lot of responsibility and leadership, and he’s shown that time and time again. hui is someone who is tough when he needs to be tough, but he’s receptive and malleable too. he listens to everyone’s opinions and tries to incorporate all of what he hears, and tries to find a solution alone. just so that his other members don’t have to feel burdened by it. as an idol group those problems always arise, and hui tries to take care of it every time. 

yeoone: alike kino, he’s unbelievably nice. he’s not weak, but he’s very innocent and honest to the point that he almost feels like a blank piece of paper. he’s very good at keeping promises, but not in the way that’s just like... “oh I’ll meet you there on time, promise!” promises that are embedded in wanting to change or better himself. he puts in a lot of effort into keeping his word, and if he can’t he has asked hongseok for help. he’s open about his feelings and he tries to absorb and learn from others. he’s a person who knows how to take responsibility and blame too. yeoone was also the first person to greet hongseok when he first came into the company, he told him that he was a fan and tried to get close with him. he’s one of the first people who helped hongseok find comfort in being a trainee in cube.

shinwon: with shinwon, the more you get to know him, the more you’ll begin to like him. his first impression was very blunt and straightforward, and he is still like that today but everything shinwon says is truthful and sincere. shinwon doesn’t lie. he never lies, and if he does he doesn’t speak and he doesn’t answer questions. this was in regards to when he asked him about something to do with kino, and shinwon said he didn’t know. he kept on prying, and shinwon said “hyung, I know the answer but I don’t know if this is something I can tell you without kino’s permission. I can tell you but only if I ask kino first.” shinwon is very loyal that way. because his honesty is not sugarcoated, sometimes his words can hurt but there’s never any malicious intention behind them. he will properly express his opinion in hopes that it’s helpful. he’s also very sharp, and if he's not confident in any task he won’t accept or promise to do it. 

wooseok: in one word... he is cute. he is pure too. whenever he sees wooseok, he’ll start talking to him as if he’s a baby just out of habit. he knows that his personality is very sweet so he knows there’s never bad intentions behind his words. If wooseok is sad, sulky or upset they can tell right away. he can’t hide his feelings, so when he’s adamant about saying no even in a more serious tone they know that he’s not saying it to be hurtful or that he really means it. he’s saying it because he’s unhappy. what wooseok says and emotes is what he feels in his heart, and because he is like that hongseok (and most of pentagon) finds him very lovable.

yuto: yuto is a dedicated and gentle person. hongseok has never met a foreigner like him before, and he recalls moments during their trainee days where his heart would be aching for him. at night time when the lights had to be shut off, and the doors to their practice room had to close yuto would always stay late to practice his korean. he’d be biting on a pencil working on his pronunciation. to yuto, he just feels like he’s pulling his weight and doing his part. he’s responsible and selfless too. as a foreigner he’s already at a disadvantage but yuto never hides behind those excuses. he stays tenacious and meticulous, he puts in a lot of effort into everything he does... he doesn’t show off and he works silently but when push comes the shove he is always reliable. 

jinho: as their oldest, jinho is pentagon’s mental pillar. he is someone who tries to take an objective and neutral stance on everything, and he believes that it’s role to do so. he cares for each and every member, and knows their strengths and weaknesses too. with that he talks to everyone and tries to help them in reaching their highest potential by highlighting their strengths and making them aware of their lacking points. If the members disagree with some of the decisions hui makes, they try to ask jinho to relay their grievances to him but he’ll tell them that they have also have to look at it through hui’s perspective. for hui to make certain decisions he must have his reasons, and because of that, hui even as their leader also relies on jinho a lot.

yanan: there’s never a reason to dislike yanan. he is cute, diligent and confident. If yanan is criticized once, he’ll stay up all night fixing his mistake and when he says that he’s practiced the members know that he’s not lying. yanan is so pure that it’s almost like he’s filled with child-like wonder... he’s very keen, but there are times where his answer to their questions are so far-fetched that it seems right. before finalizing for title songs, hui sometimes goes to yanan to ask which one he’d like best and whichever one he chooses always becomes the song they promote.

hongseok says that for all these truly good people to have found each other and created this group is very rare. there isn’t one member’s personality that he doesn’t like, and if he was uncomfortable with them he wouldn’t be able to say any of this truthfully. all these different and great characteristics is what makes up pentagon 💗

[carelesscreativity]

Ink’s Breaking Point: Gift for J_Demi_Creates On Twitter

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[Based on this post https://twitter.com/j_demi_creates/status/1383857865178316806?s=21]

[Set in FGOD Multiverse]

(SFW, Angst, Dismemberment)

Ink loved how they all acted like he didn't already know. He sat on the floor of the Doodlesphere, hearing Dream and Blue chattering behind him about how everyone had done very well in battle. Ink was tending to his wounds, painting back the limbs that Error had torn off his body. He'd painted back both legs and one of his arms, though it had been difficult. Error always lamented about how annoying it was that Ink wouldn't die. The glitch had seemed especially fired up today. He'd spat at Ink, telling him how all he did was get in the way. That he wasn't needed. That Ink didn't help with the balance in the slightest. He'd said it so vehemently and Ink scoffed to himself, finding it funny how Error thought Ink didn't already know all that.

"Ink?" Dream's voice brought him back and Ink held up his hand, silencing both of them. He continued to paint back his other arm in silence. He held it up and watched in quiet disappointment as his tattoos began to spread up onto the new bone, tainting it. He hated them. He finished off his hand and sighed. "Ink?" Dream had come over and knelt next to him. "You seemed upset when you came back from fighting Error. You were crying." Had he been crying? Ink furrowed his brow before the memory vaguely returned to him. Right. When Error had... reminded... him of his position. Ink had stared at him and he hadn't even realized there were tears running down his face. He hadn't felt anything. He never did.

"Yeah. Said some stuff to me. But nothing I didn't already know." Ink said quietly. That was usually how he shut down conversations like this, but it seemed that that wasn't good enough for Dream today. He sat down next to Ink, Blue coming over and settling next to Dream.

"What did he say? Because I can assure you that none of it is true." Dream insisted, his brow furrowed in concern. Ink glanced at him. It was always such genuine concern. It fascinated him in a way. Amused him. But that wasn't what he was really focused on. It was Dream's words. It was those lies that he kept fabricating off of that golden tongue of his. If he wanted to keep pushing when Ink had offered a way out, then that was his own fault. Ink met his gaze and his ever changing eyelights had faded into barely colored circles. Dream's smile faltered as Ink stood up abruptly.

"I think it's a little funny." A smile spread across Ink's face, but it was the worst kind. One without any cheer or joy. Any semblance of a positive emotion. Ink stared out over his Doodlesphere before turning to look at Dream with those pale eyelights, slowly tracing his fingers over the vials on his sash. "Dream, do you think I'm stupid?" The prince seemed taken back immediately and he began to protest that he did not. That forced, calm smile didn't leave Ink's face as he watched him. "Then that's another lie, isn't it?" Dream seemed lost and he opened his mouth. "I guess 'stupid' isn't the right word." Ink's skeletal fingers made soft clinking sounds as he dragged them up and down the vials. "Maybe 'ignorant' or 'naïve'..."

"I-Ink, I don't... I don't think you're any of those things." Dream stared at him in confusion. Blue didn't seem to know what was happening either. "Ink, what did Error say to you? I-It's clearly upset you-"

"He just reminded me of something. Something you definitely already knew. Y'see, when you greeted me for the first time as another balance-keeper, I just assumed you didn't know. But then you kept talking and it became VERY clear to me that you did know." Ink's voice was calm and he kept that smile on his face. "I think it's amazing you thought you could lie to someone who lies for a living. Who spends everyday pretending to be someone and something they're not." Dream stared at him and opened his mouth. Ink stopped him again by holding up a hand and there was an audible click as Dream shut his mouth.

It wasn't Ink holding up his hand that had gotten him to shut up. Ink had slid one of his vials from his sash. Bright red liquid almost seemed to glow inside of it. Blue gulped and stood up, Dream immediately following. He kept himself slightly in front of Blue. "He reminded me I wasn't actually necessary. That I don't actually influence the balance like he does. Like you or Nightmare do." Dream's shoulders sank as Ink met his eyes. "But you already knew those things." Ink tipped his head. Dream really wasn't liking that lazy grin. He really didn't like it. "You guys really are similar. You and your brother." Dream's gaze hardened and he began to protest. "Shut up." Ink summoned his paintbrush to his other hand and Dream did as he asked.

"You're both smart. Calculating. You both like to plan for every outcome. Look ahead into the future. That's the reason you befriended me, isn't it? It was your failsafe. You didn't befriend me with the actual intention of having me as a friend, you befriended me because I could be a real problem for you in the long run." Blue didn't understand. He knew he was uneducated when it came to the balance, but he'd always thought Ink was the one to balance out Error. Dream had told him that. And all these things. All these things Ink were saying couldn't have possibly been true. He turned to Dream to ask and froze up.

Dream's eyelights were shrunken and he couldn't seem to look at either of them. There was a pop that made both Dream and Blue jump, looking back at Ink. The cork of the vial clattered to the ground. Ink smiled at them, a facade of tired amusement. "I-I can't deny I knew... And I can't deny the reason I befriended you." Dream managed to say. "But I do care for you. I do care for you as a real friend now. Nothing I did or said was with malicious intent." Dream's voice was shaking. Blue seemed shocked as he stared at Dream. The prince glanced at him before immediately looking down, but Ink had already seemed to notice.

"So you lied to him too?" The words bit into Dream like flames. He looked up to see Ink's calm smile still plastered on his face. It had grown wider, but his eyes were white pinpricks. Dream was shaking quietly. He didn't know what to do. His entire plan, which had been formulated long before he'd actually started thinking of Ink as a true friend, was based solely on Ink not knowing that he was not a cog in the machine. It was falling apart.

"I-I did. I'm sorry, I didn't do it with malicious intent..." Blue was a little disappointed in Dream, but he was also confident Dream wouldn't have lied to him without a good reason. He just... wasn't really sure what that reason was.

"You seem confused." Ink almost cooed and it took Blue a second to realize that Ink's attention had shifted to him. For some reason, his entire body felt frozen. Why was he so tense? This was Ink. This was... This was his friend... right? Blue didn't know what to say and Ink gave an empty scoff. "Quietest I've heard you." Blue was momentarily taken back. Ink traced small circles in the air with the vial, careful to not let any of it spill out. "You know why Dream lied about everything?" Blue realized he was trembling and shook his head. Ink's grin became something sharp. Something that could cut like a knife.

"I may not be important, but I can tell I'm quite a nuisance. Error tells me that a lot. He says I'm a bitch to fight. Dream lied because I'm DANGEROUS. Isn't that right?" He gave a tiny laugh like he couldn't quite believe what he was saying. "I'm a threat to the Multiverse unless I'm leashed. Right, Dream?? You just want to keep the Multiverse happy and safe. A true hero." He sighed, his smile still not leaving his face. Blue gulped. He had his hands clasped in front of him quietly. Ink hummed softly, but it wasn't a good sound. It sent ugly prickles up both of their spines.

"I'm tired of humoring you two." Ink said bluntly. He tipped the vial into his mouth and Dream immediately began to protest.

"No!! Ink, wait, please!! We can talk about this!!" He begged, his eyes wide. Blue yelped as Dream shoved him behind him. Ink finished the vial and sighed, his arms falling to his side. He loosely gripped his paintbrush in one hand while the empty vial slipped out of his fingers in the other. The clattering sound it made seemed unbelievably loud as it echoed around the dome. Ink was panting and his tongue, which had been white the entire time had red starting to bleed through it. Ink scoffed and gave that grin.

"Talk about it??" Now Ink's voice had some emotion to it, but none of it was the good kind. “You want to talk about it? Dream, that’s INCREDIBLE.” He sounded incredulous. He gave another short burst of laughter. “Dream, you used me. I mean, I suppose not since I knew from the beginning, but you used me to help play your silly little game with Nightmare!” He snickered and shrugged, his eyes changing to those glowing red rings. One began to morph into a target. “I figured if anyone would know how it felt to be used, it would be you.”

Immediately, Dream froze up and before he knew it, Blue had pushed in front of him. “Ink, I get you’re upset, but you know how Dream feels when it comes to stuff like that!!” Ink rolled his eyes and glared at him. “Ink, please-” Out of all the things that Blue was expecting, the sharpened bone crunching through his shoulder wasn’t one of them and the force of it knocked him back. He stared at the bone in shock and he looked back up at Ink, who had formed a few more. They hovered around him menacingly.

Dream was next to Blue’s side in an instant, but Blue was already trying to get up. “Ink-”

“Nothing YOU say matters to me. We replace you every time your AU goes through a Genocide Route. I didn’t care about anything you’d said the first time and I’m sure as fuck not gonna care now for the thousandth.” Ink said, practically spitting at him. The words cut deep and Blue’s voice got stuck in his throat. Dream was shaking and he got up to say something, but could only watch as more bones began to form behind Ink. “Dream, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but nothing you could say to me will change a damn thing.” Ink tipped his head with that condescending hum again. “I’ve grown bored of you.”

He turned. “I’ve grown bored of all these monsters in these AUs.” Immediately, Dream’s eyes widened and he formed his bow, but the ink had already hit him, constricting him and sending his bow clattering a bit away. He tried to reach it and Ink came over quietly. He tipped his head again and kicked the bow further from Dream. “I’m done playing with both of you.” He raised his hand, but before he could snap his fingers, there was a fizzling noise.

Ink’s head lifted, but he didn’t look over. Blue was shaking as he looked over at the glitching portal that had opened up. Both Error and Nightmare seemed unsure of the scene in front of them. This wasn’t good. Dream’s shoulders sank. Nightmare was going to get cocky, wasn’t he? He was going to get cocky and talk about how Dream had messed up. Maybe he’d invite Ink over to their side. He jumped as he heard a soft swear.

Both Error and Nightmare had gone into defensive positions. “F-F-Finally got it through his skull, I b-b-bet.” Error’s mutter to Nightmare should’ve been soft enough that only they could hear it. But this was the Doodlesphere. This was Ink’s domain and he could hear everything. Ink froze up and that smile cracked across his face as he turned to face them. He reached up, beginning to pick at his scarf as his brush clattered next to him.

“Finally??” Ink sounded delirious as he yanked the scarf down and exposed the inside of the part that was always bunched up around his neck. There were scrawled messages over and over of how he was not a Creator. How he was not a balance-keeper. “I’ve known since the start!! I’ve known it all since the start!” There was a glint as strings wrapped themselves around his throat, tightening into the swirled bone.

“Y-Y-You made a m-m-mistake showing your throat.” Error growled. Ink scoffed and finally burst out in laughter. It was loud and it echoed through the golden dome. It felt cold. It felt cold and empty and feverish. Ink managed to calm himself to giggling as ink began to bubble up from the ground around them.

“You made a mistake coming here. What a perfect time to break your way into MY territory.” The portal was being covered up and the ink was seeping towards them, sizzling as it moved along the ground. “It would be in your best interest to remember that I can’t die.” He teleported out of Error’s strings, drifting above them. He took them all in, seeming overjoyed. He hummed and tipped his head, feigning deep thought. “I mean, I guess I can die if people forget about me.” He mused. The side of his mouth quirked in amusement and he scoffed.

They were in danger. They were all in danger and they knew it. They were lambs in a lion den. Ink smiled, eyes glowing as more bones spiraled out behind him. His face was shifting and it was one they all recognized. Large, empty eyes and a haunting fanged grin. His features became scratchy, like someone had scribbled him and it was a terror to look at as he spoke in his feverishly delighted voice. “I may not be important, but I’m NOT going to be forgotten."

[junhuiste]

next level (ex-wip)

pairing: wonwoo x gn reader

word count: 2200

tags/warnings: fluff, angst, slightly suggestive, cursing, friends to enemies to lovers, college au

a/n: so i said i’d publish my other ex wips and here’s another one! i planned on making this a 3 parter where y/n asks wonwoo for help on a computer game even though they were enemies but before that they were friends …does that make any sense i didn’t think so! also this is an ex wip so sorry for the asterisks everywhere! those words were the ones i was gonna replace later on lmfao!!!! also i wrote this 2 years ago when i was 17 so my apologies if its utter bullshit 😭

as wonwoo help you leveled up, you wondered if you should do the same regarding your friendship…errr…enemyship….

It’d been an hour or so of Wonwoo verbally guiding you through the various moves and strategies but once he stood up your breath suddenly hitched, for whatever reason.

Breathing seemingly became somewhat harder as you saw from the corner of your eye that wonwoo was coming to stand behind you.

“it’s gonna get harder,” he said softly, his hand finding yours, “let me help you.”

as much as you appreciated his help, you didn’t need wonwoo to baby you; you were perfectly capable of taking verbal directions without needing guidance like a rookie. “i can do it; i swear!”

though it was hard to train your eyes on both wonwoo and the computer monitor simultaneously, you managed to do it anyway. “that’s not what you said last week when i offered you my help.”

it wasn’t that you didn’t need wonwoo’s help, and it wasn’t certainly that you didn’t want it, but there was something mischievous yet somehow alluring and amusing pushing him away. it was honestly quite ***horrible ** for you to admit it, but playing cat and mouse was refreshing, though it was a game hard to keep up with.

eventually you gave in and you took deep breaths slowly and surely as wonwoo’s hand rest atop yours. it was warm, but not sweaty; relaxed, but not ***heavy***. his head was most definitely closer to yours than last time, even though you tried to focus solely on the computer monitor, he was within an ear’s whisper from you. as he guided your hand, your thoughts glided slowly away from the game entirely and onto the boy behind you. it was hard, really, to ****focus*** on the 146th level of the game when the boy you liked a while back had his shoulder barely leaning into yours, with his warmth radiating onto you so so comfortably.

it hadn’t even been 10 minutes since wonwoo had stood up behind you that his arm was now resting ***comfortably***on yours. the weight of his top half ***barely*** on yours wasn’t even what went into consideration, for the most part. it what you could feel was ***slowly*** developing in the room, moment by moment, and it was excruciatingly painful how much time it took to build up. palms clammy, fingers ready to give out, and breathing ***most definitely*** not under control, you were ready to tap out and give into your instincts.

a mosh pit of psychedelic colors reflected onto both of your faces as the round ended. with the blinds only half drawn and how bright the screen was turned up, you winced at what seemed like a light source that envied the sun glared at you. the heat from the screen wasn’t the only **warmth**** prevalent, however. you certainly hadn’t forgotten about wonwoo’s shoulder ***leaning** onto yours.

avoiding all what you’d learned in high/secondary school about what freud said about the ego calming the id, you surpassed straying from your normal actions. you’d leaped from them, and it couldn’t be fathomed by anyone, by you or soonyoung, or especially jeon wonwoo, what lead you to remove your headphones and turn around in the computer chair and then kiss jeon wonwoo. what was most surprising was that he leaned in too, so much didn’t have to be done on your part.

as he leaned in closer, you pulled wonwoo closer, as if it were instinct and you’d kissed him a thousand times before. knowing him for quite some time, it was evident that he didn’t link up with anyone, whether that be for a single night of pleasure or months of commitment, so it was ***most definitely*** more than alike to a jack-in-the-box when he knew what he was doing, and so well too. his hand **softly*** stroking your cheek with your thumb and your hand ***softly **rubbing*** his neck were a pair you never would’ve expected in light years would be together. the whole ***thing** was just unbelievable…and undoubtedly **breathtaking***, as such as you would ***hate*** to ever tell him.

flashes of blue and red glossed wonwoo’s face again as you looked up at him. “would you look at that,” a slight tinge of satisfaction laced his tone and captured his expression, as you heard a faint “level 147 unlocked” behind you.

the exact reason you were at the dorm for you had completely abandoned; your endeavor was ***seemingly** cut short by your id, too strong for it to be tamed by your superego. in fact, all goals for the game were temporarily thrusted into the iceberg of your unconscious thoughts as you looked up at wonwoo again while tugging his shirt.

it was a precarious game of truth or dare you were playing with yourself, and you were losing to nothing none other than your current desires? mere attractions? repressed feelings? whatever it was, it didn’t really matter as wonwoo leaned into you again, this time more ***forcefully/intensely**, with both of you managing to slip a tongue in here and there. french kissing wonwoo? not exactly on your bucket list but something you were glad to have checked off, be it for lust, regret, or simply nostalgia of how you once felt for the boy who’s sweater you were tugging at to bring him closer and closer and closer.

it had **certainly** been more than a few good minutes of locking lips with jeon wonwoo, and what resulted was both of you panting heavily and looking each other in the eyes a little too intensely for your liking—not necessarily a look of sin but rather of repressed longing and ***regret**. the tension swore to engulf you and spit you out but what was sprinting through your mind instead was that wonwoo kissed you back.

had the naive, freshman you known that making out with jeon wonwoo would become a reality, you would’ve jumped at the thought. was he cute or irritating? bold or brazen? or was he simply just there that you immediately caved in and let your libido think for itself? it was just like that class where he palpated you; did feelings resurface because of a craving for affection? or was wonwoo a person you genuinely wanted to pursue something with. restating what he’d said earlier, that’s not what you’d thought a few months ago.

confusion. that’s what it was at most, at best, with the clearest label. wonwoo was there, yes, but he was also ***caring** (yet competitive), offering (yet **pretentious**), and someone you’d cared for back. the way he carried himself around you was *annoying** at times, sure, but he was never malicious. wonwoo had not one bad bone in his body, and you were willing to stand by that statement. his competitiveness and bold nature that peeked in once in a while were far outweighed by his humility.

no matter how many times he corrected you as naive and curious freshmen, you’d always find yourself falling back to feelings. just like now. but what was it really? did bubbles reappear just because of his hand on yours? because of his somewhat secret smiles when he knew you enjoyed his company? maybe. but it certainly wasn’t because he was just there.

even if bubbles popped and didn’t reappear, it would be better to get feelings out, right? it would lessen the blow, for both you and wonwoo. would you come to terms with what you once harbored for jeon wonwoo? maybe not.

sitting on the bed, wonwoo perked his head up at the sight of you in the chair finally facing him. “this…this isn't a heat of a moment thing…” you began, taking as much of your precious time as possible. if you were going to confront how you felt and didn't feel simultaneously, it might as well have taken some thought at the very least, especially for wonwoo’s sake.

the raven-haired** boy hunched over with a quirked eyebrow to continue to hear you out.

“i like you—i’m sorry, i mean i used to like you. like a lot. sometimes a lot for my own good. back in freshman year.” it was a struggle to get it all out in one breath. confrontation should be something you’d never have to do again. wonwoo stayed silent, his eyes no longer **trained* on yours, but shifted **somewhat** nervously to the floor. the way your heart pulsated mercilessly at the brutal sound of silence forced the temperature to shoot up suddenly.

it didn’t work; you didn’t feel clean, worse actually, and from what it looked like at the moment, wonwoo probably did as well. he usually did well when it all boiled down to fear, feelings, and *rationality* mixing, because he pushed it away. everyone knew that, and you especially. he didn’t take any hard hits when he was third-wheeling soonyoung or roaming mindlessly at one of **NCT’s** notorious frat parties.

maybe it was time to leave. perhaps those moments of silence where you had to recollect yourself, your dignity, and your feelings were a pure waste.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know why i just threw that at you. i’ll leave now—and uh, thanks for the help.” sometimes feelings weren’t merely felt, other times they were ruthless and just sprung up at the worst of times. maybe that’s why your body was unforgiving and threatening to prick your eyes with water. hurriedly, you grabbed your headphones and clenched them tightly in your fist before taking a step to leave.

however, a pang of something hit. it was unidentifiable, that thing that was keeping you from taking any more steps to leave wonwoo’s room. it was agonizing at the same intensity as it was delirious, and wild and tantalizing even. whatever it was, it was piercing you, forcing you to stay in place.

once again, the air around you was impassioned and the evident thumping and thrashing and thrusting in your chest occurred as wonwoo stood up in front of you. his tall stature didn’t threaten you, only how you felt did.

“how long?” he pried with a *cold** kind of warmth before sitting down in the computer chair. his knees were almost touching yours, and he leaned back with burning curiosity.

“i…don’t know. it was a while back…and for a long time; that’s all i remember.”

the unspoken miracle had graced you as river that almost formed around your eyes earlier had finally dried up.

wonwoo had that same look on his face he always had when no answers or solutions came to mind right away. it wasn’t expressionless, far from it. you didn't know if it was inquiry or discontent, or even a thrill; the latter you’d wished but was far from being a reality.

the way wonwoo struggled to get out what he wanted took you aback. he always knew what to say, whether witty, spiteful, or helpful, and to plain sight of him also choking on his words threw you for a numbing, yet throbbing** loop.

“do you still like me?” wonwoo finally made eye contact with you, the kind of eye contact someone makes when they itch for the answer to so badly be yes.

it was at that moment that he locked you in again. but you spent the last year convincing yourself you hated him. indeed, hate was too strong of a word for it. something else. and just as you’d told him, it was absolutely not the kiss that stirred you to confess in a half-assed manner. it was just so bothersome to not know what those feelings were.

it almost choked to say it, because you *genuinely* felt it, but didn’t know what exactly to do about it.

“i-i don’t know.” you couldn’t keep up with eye contact. it was much too biting.

wonwoo captured your eyes again, but this time it wasn’t the same confused gleam they held, but rather one of clouded elation. you couldn’t exactly tell, but you knew it was just electricity in there somewhere.

“do you want to kiss me again?” was the million dollar question that was lurking. wonwoo asked it with such subtle amusement. instead of taking advantage of your feelings and vulnerability in this situation, which he would never think to do, he decided to act upon his own.

there was an evident yearning in his tone, his body language, his eyes, everything. you knew the difference between when wonwoo was simply waiting for an answer and when he was aching for it immediately. this moment called for the latter.

his inclination provoked a smile out of you. whatever it was, you didn’t know how you felt; you just knew you needed to kiss him again.

you dropped everything you had been clenching so tightly in your hands and and bent down to hold his face in your hand as you leaned in. his soft lips finally met yours again, and unlike the first couple of kisses you shared, this time it was *softer***, slower, driven by an avid and throbbing want to be as close to the other person as possible. this time it had meaning. and you couldn’t find yourself pulling away as wonwoo’s hand came behind your thigh to pull you closer to him.

he was never one to make the first move, for most things, and it surprised you when he popped the question and pulled you to him. practically falling on him in the chair, you whispered out a faint “sorry”, as he rushed to hold you. he *giggled softly** before he continued to kiss you. eventually you repositioned yourself to straddle him in the chair and oh my god you were making out with jeon wonwoo.

videogames, huh?

[zevlors-tail]

S/O Has A Self Harm Relapse - Deku

Original ask here.

A/N: Sorry this took so long! My dms are always open, and I’m always here to talk to if anyone needs it! I also hope this is relatable, because I know SH can be very personal and everyone has their own reasons. Remember that your progress is valid even when slip ups happen, and that you are loved, always, no matter what. 

TW: Self harm relapse, general negative thoughts and emotions, implied cutting, I didn’t go into detail but it’s still descriptive so PLEASE MIND THE WARNINGS.

Izuku Midoriya/Deku:

“I just don’t know what to do, you know? Things are really tough right now, and I feel like you’re the only one taking the time to understand where I’m coming from. I don’t know who else to turn to...” The hurt in your friend’s voice was evident, causing your eyes to crinkle in worry as you gave them a small concerned smile.

“Everything’s going to be okay. I know it doesn’t feel like that right now, but it will be eventually. You just have to trust me.” Your voice held such a confident tone to it, a promise of better times to come in the near future. You sounded like you were sure of it, as if you knew without a shadow of a doubt that things would be okay- and maybe you did. You truly believed it, genuinely felt that your friend would be okay and that things would work out after all.

“You really think so?”

“I know so,” you responded with conviction.

Just this morning, one of your best friends had texted to ask if you could meet up with them later on in the day to talk about something important. Of course, you being the helpful and loyal friend you were, you immediately agreed and set up a time to see them. It had turned out that they were going through some sort of crisis, something that on the surface didn’t seem to be troubling them, but as they went on about their issue, you saw the way it weighed on their shoulders, saw the way it made them doubt themselves.

You knew how it felt to feel like the world was caving in, like there was no hope left for you. Maybe that was the reason you were always so quick to help others; you couldn’t stand the thought of the people you cared for feeling the same way. No matter what they needed and no matter when they needed it, you were there. One of your friends got into a fight with their parents? You were there. One of them was having troubles with their partner? You were there. If someone else just needed to vent about their shitty day, you were there; you always were. You could never turn them away even if you felt overwhelmed at your own expense. And it was frustrating, too, because no matter how many times you came to their rescue, no one seemed to want to be there for you. Well...almost no one.

There was one person, the light of your life, Izuku Midoriya. He checked in with you often, would remind you to take breaks for yourself (even if you often ignored his requests to do so, much to his dismay), and kept you going when you felt you couldn’t go on any longer. And you were going through so much; between school, work, and home life, you felt completely overwhelmed. Lately, it seemed like your grip on things just seemed to be...slipping. It was getting harder to focus between the sheer amount of anxiety you felt over everything, harder to breathe easy and relax. You supposed it didn’t help that Izuku had been away for a few days for some intense type of training, either. 

Maybe that was the cherry on top, or maybe it was just inevitable, but somehow you found yourself feeling lower than dirt as you sent your friend off with a tight hug, their form fading in the distance as you watched them leave with a deep frown. You understood they had things going on, and of course you didn’t expect them to notice you felt a little off, but you wished that maybe they had just asked if you were alright, too. Even a passing, “I hope you’re doing okay,” would have been nice; something, at least, to let you know the feelings were reciprocated on their end as well. Something to let you know they cared. But they weren’t, and they didn’t, and you sighed heavily as you let your facade shatter around you.

You felt selfish for wishing your friend would care when they were clearly preoccupied with other things. But in the same sense, you couldn’t remember the last time someone asked if you were okay. Things were getting bad again, all of your friends and family needed you and were demanding your attention constantly, and now your boyfriend was away for a few days as well. Between the stacking missed calls and texts you needed to respond to and the sheer amount other’s problems added to yours, it felt like too much. Even the noise of the car radio on the drive home was irritating and overwhelming, and no matter what station you picked, the music and occasional static noise bothered you until you finally had to turn it off completely. But driving in silence proved to be a problem as well, and now you were stuck with the intrusive thoughts in your mind and your heartbeat rushing in your ears. 

The silence of your empty home was deafening. Izuku, who would usually be lounging on the couch with his favorite All Might blanket watching a movie by now if he was home, was nowhere to be found. The lights on the dishwasher blinked at you from the darkness of the kitchen signaling an empty rack. There were no dishes to clean, no clothes to wash or dry, and the TV screen remained darkened and still; there was nothing to distract your mind from the chaos inside of it. And although you were surrounded by quiet, it was by no means peaceful. You felt on edge, overwhelmed, and alone. It was all too much too fast, and you knew of only one solution to quiet the thoughts in your head, even if it was only a temporary fix.

Right now, in this moment, you just needed everything to stop. You needed a distraction, a different source of pain to redirect your focus. Still, you hated yourself with every step you took until you came to stand in front of the bathroom sink, the familiar cabinet doors leering at you more maliciously than usual. 

You knew what lied behind those doors in the far left corner on the bottom shelf.

***

It was two more days before Izuku returned home, the telltale sign of jingling keys ringing through the air as he opened the front door and slipped inside. He tossed his keys to the table and kicked off his shoes. You heard him lock the door behind himself, footsteps heavy on the carpeted floor as he dropped his bags in the living room and took a moment to relax and settle in. In a way, you were grateful he didn't immediately come to see you; you were curled up in bed, anxious and ashamed about what you had been doing while he was gone. He wouldn’t look at you the same way again after this, you were sure of it.

You listened as Izuku trekked to the bathroom across the hall, and if you payed enough attention with your half lidded eyes, you could make out his darkened blurry form passing by the open bedroom door. He shut the bathroom door behind him before he turned on the lights (he was always courteous of you and your need to sleep in the dark), his electric toothbrush vibrating to life. You stayed put in bed and listened to the sound of it while pretending to be asleep. But as soon as it hard started it was just as abruptly stopping, and for reasons you couldn’t place, anxiety bubbled up in your chest as you listened to Izuku go eerily silent for at least a good minute. The light from under the bathroom door shifted as he finally moved, his clothing creating a soft rustling noise while he put his toothbrush back on the counter with a quiet clack.

Sensing that the bathroom door was about to open once more, you turned away from the entryway and faced the wall. You didn’t want him to know you were awake; all you wanted was for him to crawl into bed with you and wrap his arms around you like nothing at all had ever happened, like it was any other normal evening. But as luck would have it, that wasn’t what happened.

Izuku switched the lights off and exited the bathroom, making the short trip to the bed with ease before he stood still at the foot of it for a moment. There was a soft whisper of something, your name maybe? You were too nervous to tell.

“Y/N...?”

Something in his tone caused your heart to race with worry. He was testing you, seeing if you were awake...but for what? He usually knew better than to wake you when he came home any time past midnight, even if it was after a few days of intensive training. If he was trying to get your attention now, then it must be something important. Still, you remained “asleep”, a sinking feeling in your gut and a terrifying thought at the back of your brain. There was no way he knew...right? 

When you gave no indication that you heard him, he carefully crawled onto the bed and lie down behind you, arms encasing you protectively and lovingly while he buried his nose into your neck. “Y/N,” he said again, his voice raising a bit. You involuntarily tensed at the sound, and you shriveled in horror as Izuku propped himself up on one elbow behind you while he used his other arm to shake you gently. There was no way you were getting out of this now; he knew you were awake by your movements. if you weren’t apprehensive before, then you surely were now.

“Izu?” you murmured in your best sleepy voice you could muster.

“Hi, love.” There was something in his normally heartwarming smile, something more complicated than usual behind the forest green of his irises as he looked you over. “I’m home.” The crack in his voice took you by surprise, and you saw tears beginning to form on his long lashes.

“Izu, what’s wrong?” You immediately reached out to him, your insecurities and worries all but forgotten about in the moment. “Did something happen while you were away?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that...” 

He welcomed your touch, grasping your smaller hand in one of his much larger ones as you cupped his cheek. He gave you a small smile before leaning into your hand, and no other words were spoken as the two of you sat together in silence for a moment, Izuku trying to calm his ragged breathing while you stared up at him in concern. Finally, he seemed to find his resolve as he sighed heavily and sniffed, eyes fluttering open just to focus solely on you. Izuku shifted so that he was lying back down, one arm draped over your side as you faced him, both of your bodies comfortably resting against one another while you held his gaze.

“Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer as honestly as you can, okay?”

Immediately your heart thundered to life in your chest. You tried to reassure yourself that you were just overthinking things, that there was no logical way he could know about what you’d done while he was away. Was there...?

“Okay.” You hoped your voice didn’t seem as shaky as you felt. 

“Are you bottling things up again?” He was so gentle. The tone in which he asked you had been soft, his eyes glossy, his touch tender as he ran a careful hand over your shoulder and down your back to rub small circles against it.

“What do you mean?” 

Maybe if you acted ignorant, he wouldn’t try to press you any further. But then, this was Izuku, wasn’t it? Who we’re you trying to kid?

“You didn’t seem like yourself when I called you last night. And your friend said you seemed a little off the other day during your visit. I’m just worried about you. Is there anything you want to talk about?”

Sure, there were lots of things you wanted to say, but you didn’t have the courage to say any of them out loud. So instead of confiding in Izuku, you chose to pull away emotionally. Luckily for you, however, this did not manage to go unnoticed by your boyfriend.

“No...I’m fine. Promise.”

“Oh, honey...” The amount of care and concern he held for you in his words made you feel vulnerable. Izuku pulled you into the tightest hug you’d ever felt in your life, his strong arms wrapping around you in a comforting way while he continued. “You don’t have to pretend that everything is okay. I know it’s not.”

Shameful tears dripped sorely from your cheeks as his words started to sink in. After so long of keeping all your feelings to yourself, they finally spilled over and flowed out of you in the form of teardrops that soaked the pillow underneath you. Your walls crumbled and caved, and you clung to Izuku for dear life as you let everything out in the safety of his hold. 

“I’m sorry!” you whispered harshly against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry-!” For what, you weren’t sure- you just felt the need to apologize. Maybe for relapsing, maybe for crying- or maybe for both.

Izuku hushed you and let you soak his dirtied shirt for as long as you needed. When your sniffles had become less frequent and your hiccups much quieter, he brought his hands to your face, cupping it gently and looking you in the eyes. “Y/N. I love you, and nothing you do or say could change that. Alright?” You nodded in understanding. “I know you’re not okay. I don’t think you realized, but when I went into the bathroom, you...” He struggled to finish his sentence, tears welling up in his eyes again. “You left it out.”

Shit.

Fuzzy memories from earlier played back in your mind as you realized you’d forgotten to put something away that Izuku wasn’t supposed to see. You’d been too busy cleaning the bathroom to remember that you left it sitting on the ledge of the medicine cabinet, right next to the bandages and antiseptic. No wonder he’d stopped brushing his teeth so fast; he must have seen it and put two and two together fairly quickly after that. So then...he knew after all.

“I’m sorry!”

You wanted to say so much more than that. You wanted to tell him you were afraid- afraid that he would leave you, that he would hate you, that he would judge you even though you knew he was the most loving and caring person you could ever ask for. You wanted to tell him you regretted it, that you hated yourself for it, that you wished you could take it back. Of all the things to leave your mouth, those words seemed stuck on repeat. But luckily for you, Izuku always seemed to know how to read you and your words. 

Izuku let go of your face before wrapping you in his arms once more, your head tucked under his chin. “Love, it’s okay. Everything’s alright. I’m not angry, though I am upset that you’re hurting.”

“It was stupid, and I’m sorry, and I wish I never-”

Izuku cut you off. “Oh, Y/N, no. It’s not stupid. You’re in pain, it’s your way of trying to cope. It’s not healthy, and it’s not good, but it’s how you’re trying to survive. And that’s not stupid, Y/N, it’s human. And to be human is to make mistakes.” He gave you a moment to process before carrying on. “Slip ups happen. It doesn’t mean you’re a bad person, or that your progress is all gone, or even that you’re weak. It’s a normal thing. Recovery isn’t linear.”

“What does that mean?” you asked between sobs.

“It means it’s not a straight line, baby. You can’t just quit something cold turkey like that and expect things to go so smooth. It’s great if it does, but...the reality of it is that everyone is different, and while you’ve made a lot of progress already, there will always be ups and downs. And just because you had a relapse doesn’t mean that everything you’ve done before this doesn’t matter anymore. It just means things aren’t so good right now. But we can make them better, together. Okay?”

“Okay...” you mumbled.

“I love you. I’m proud of you for getting this far. We can make it through this, and I’ll be here every step of the way. I’ll do my part and start checking in with you more often, okay?”

You pressed your face into the dry spot of his shirt and clutched at it with both hands. Izuku was your rock, and he wasn’t going anywhere. He was willing to go through this with you and help support you, and that meant the world to you in a place where you felt alone and not worth the time of day.

“I-Izuku?” you hiccuped.

“I’m here,” came his calm reply.

“Don’t leave me, please...”

“Oh, Y/N, I would never. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’m here.” 

[matth1w]

Tribulations

Pairing: Michael Langdon x Reader

Summary: Catching the eye of the interviewer, you face trials of temptation and faith.

Associated Verse: Blessed is the one who reads and those who hear the words of the prophecy, and heeds the things which are written in it; for the time is near. Revelation 1:3

Warnings: Death, Violence, Blood, Nightmares, Mental Manipulation, Blasphemy (Michael Langdon and all his fuckery)

Rating: All, but it’s a darkish fic

Word Count: 3,070 Words

Note: I very intentionally did not use his first name

Note 2: I’m not back... just finally finished & edited something for once 😅

Forever Tags: @captainrogerss // @banditthewriter // @fics-not-tragedies // @commander-writergirl // @zodiyack

Tag Lists Are Open / Requests are Closed

D O  N O T  R E P O S T  M Y  W O R K

The crackling embers calmed you and guided your heartbeat to slow to a steady tempo. The warmth that radiated from the fireplace threatened to bring a slew of memories from what felt like a past life.

You knew you should turn to face your interviewer, that you probably seemed rude ignoring him to instead stare longingly into the warming fire but something kept you there.

You felt... safe.

For the first time since the sirens sounded, you felt safe.

That thought brought you peace and you finally sighed in content and smiled as you turned to face the man who claimed to be your savior.

Mr. Langdon simply raised his eyebrows at you, not commenting on your actions of the past few minutes. The only other movement was his fingers slowly stroking the underside of his chin. They seemed to sparkle from the light catching the shining stones and golden metal.

He seemed more at ease as well, like he was able to experience the thoughts of peace and happiness that had been running in your mind. Or maybe the fire brought its own kind of warmth to him as well.

The sound of a log crumbling into ash turned your attention back to the fireplace. Your eyes only rested there for a moment but when you turned back the man in front of you had changed.

No longer a beautiful man leisurely sitting by the fire, Mr. Langdon instead had a furrowed brow with a matching grimace and leaned forward the moment your eyes met his once more.

You found yourself wondering what could have brought this sudden change. Before your thoughts could spiral any deeper into questions, you saw him open his mouth to speak. The low timber and plush lips brought an unwilling blush to your cheeks.

“How are you... enjoying things at the outpost?” Mr. Langdon’s pause and scrutinizing eyes made you nervous. Like he was a seasoned hunter laying a perfectly placed trap and he had no true care for your enjoyment, and instead was hoping you fell for the trick.

Despite the countless warning signs blaring in your mind, for some reason you wanted to tell him the truth. How much you hated Madam Venable for ruining an already depressing situation, how you wanted to scream every time a petty argument broke out over dinner, how many nights you laid awake wondering why you were facing this tribulation. Were you chosen or simply damned?

Oh, many times you wished you could escape this sadistic stone tomb.

Recalling his assurance, rather threat, that he would know if you dared to lie to him, you settled on the truth... just more simple.

“This isn’t how I imagined the apocalypse would go.”

A weighted statement full of multiple meanings but the truth nonetheless.

At that, you saw his lips flick up into a quick smile and his eyes glimmer in the low light dancing around the room.

“Is that so?” Mr. Langdon leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and clasping his hands over his knee, the simple movement somehow seductive.

A flutter in your heart brought warmth to your body. Maybe it was the fact that you seemed to amuse Mr. Langdon, got him to smile in a way that didn’t seem malicious. Made him turn into the man you had seen just moments before.

You let yourself smile in return. For some reason, your tense body relaxed as if you were two friends casually conversing over a shared humorous experience.

Instead of laying out your reasons, something reckless inside your soul emboldened you to taunt him with a vague truth. Something about his pretentious demeanor intrigued you, especially after Gallant mimicked his line about being able to sense the darkest things about a person. You were desperate to see what he was hiding in the shadows of his own being.

“Yes.”

You looked him in the eyes, watching as he stared back blankly, his mask of aloof superiority now back. You knew it then to be a mask — you could feel his genuine self itching to be shown.

He was genuinely pleased to have someone make him feel something. For a moment, you wanted to continue your thoughts, share every thought and feeling and secret, but you wanted to see how far the game would go.

Your rational side knew it would likely end with you being left to rot in the outpost. It didn’t matter much. You accepted your death long ago and this entertainment finally brought some life back into your veins.

After nearly a minute of a scrutinizing glare, Michael removed his hands from his knee and laid them flat on the arms of the black leather chair.

Your attention was brought to the ringed fingers drumming lightly, as if he was pondering his next words. Something inside you didn’t quite believe him. As if it was an act for show. That he knew exactly was he was going to do next. He was simply... waiting.

Toying with you.

Seeing if you’d crack under the silence. Fill the lack of noise and if so, how you’d do it.

With an apology?

An insecure question?

A babbling attempt to say what you think he wants to hear?

Or something... else?

You thought forcing Michael to speak next would surely annoy him but instead when he opened his mouth, he seemed as if he was amused by your resolute rebellion. His teeth shined from the flickering fire, making him seem like a hungry beast.

The warmth seemed to increase from your side, like the flames were growing, intensifying, as you pressed on. You wondered if your words or his were the fuel.

“Venable told me you caused quite a ruckus when you got here.”

You grimaced, recalling your punishment of starved time in the cell below.

“Is that a question?”

His eyebrows raised at your snarky retort, his mouth a thin line. He must be getting impatient. You didn’t like this look of him.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured out with a well placed sigh.

“I just... didn’t, and don’t, agree with that rule.”

He hummed noncommittally.

“This outpost has a quite extensive library. So why bother yourself with stealing something as silly as fairytales?”

There was an challenge in his eyes as he continued speaking as he stood.

“Now, at least it wasn’t some cute version, I’ll give you that.”

His steps resounded as he moved to circle behind you. Daring you to follow him with your eyes or a turn of your head but you stayed still.

“How many days did Venable keep you in that cell?”

He placed his hands on the arms of your chair, leaning over to encircle you even further. His presence smothering you as the heat suffocated you even further. You couldn’t tell if it came from him or the fire.

“Hmm? Tell me, was it worth it?”

As his last words left his mouth in a whisper, he leaned in so his mouth was brushing against your hair.

Your breath hitched from his proximity, your skin raised in what felt like a strange mix of fear and anticipation. Your mouth felt dry as you forced yourself to swallow.

“Yes.”

The simple response and all its weight hung heavy in the air as only the sound continued to be the still lively fire to your right. You knew it to be no ordinary thing. Mr. Langdon made no movement, staying torturously close.

After what felt like an eternity, he took in a deep breath through his nose, seeming to breathe you in as much as he was refilling his lungs. You wondered if he even needed to breathe.

You could sense the satisfied smirk and feel the hot air as he leaned in to the shell of your ear.

“Good.”

You were unsure how to respond. Even more unsure if you should.

Mr. Langdon stood upright again, the soft brush of cool air hitting the back of your neck, relieving you as it sent shivers down your spine.

His left hand came into your view and you finally looked up at him, hesitant to instantly take it as much as you wanted to. There was still a part of you that was weary and unsure. Unwilling to not question.

Seeing a polite, disarming smile on his lips, you placed your hand in his, surprisingly warm and soft, and rose from your seat.

He turned your body towards him, the proximity once again sending mixed signals throughout your body. More so excitement now, but still laced with the ever present tendrils of trepidation.

He took his hand from yours but then moved to place it under your chin. Not cupping it in a romantic manner, but like how an adult would do to a pitifully naive child.

Your skin flushed where it met his, like he had the same power as the fireplace before. Something in the back of your mind noted how it had simmered once more. The flames calming as you accepted his extended hand.

Mr. Langdon cocked his head and let his eyes be overrun with clear pity. He even sealed what felt like the overly faux emotion with an empathetic sigh.

“Although life isn’t the fairytale you wished for, try to make the best of it, princess.”

You had to control every muscle in your face to not scrunch your nose at the words that stung like a patronizing slap despite the show of emotions that accompanied them.

Not trusting your tongue, you silently nodded. His fingers dug in for a moment like he was dissatisfied you maintained your composure and was about to lose his. He ripped his hand from your chin with a snarl and turned around to step behind his desk, his eyes roaming the wooden surface as he flexed his fingers, perhaps your touch had pained him.

He pulled out the thin black chair before he paused and looked back up at you, once more a different man than moments before. A Cheshire grin was clear on his face and that same glimmer of mischief back again.

“Oh, one last thing.”

“Yes, Mr. Langdon?” you forced out evenly, trying your best to control the whirlwind of emotions pounding on the door inside your chest to be let out.

“Remember, heed the warning of Snow White. Never trust witches or beautiful apples.”

His sing song voice sounded light like another taunt with his dismissive wave but the look in his eyes turned dark and intense as he lowered himself into his chair. Like he was spurring, no demanding you to remember his words, this moment.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The somber warning that felt like a thinly veiled threat haunted your bones. He made no other comments to you that day or any other, didn’t even bother to look at you when you two were in the same room or hall.

You thought he had forgotten about you. His amusement snuffed out and attention passed to the others... until the night before Halloween. Or simply, what you were told was Halloween.

You opened your bedroom door to find an unfamiliar book lying open on your pillow. Its golden edges shined in the candlelight as you cautiously stepped forward. A Bible - open to the first page of the Book of Revelation.

Blood red words stood out, written in the margins. You leaned over to get a better look, not daring to touch the holy object that felt tainted with darkness.

‘Was this how you imagined it?’

There was no name nor did you recognize the handwriting but you knew for certain this had come from Mr. Langdon. The smallest amount of heat tickled at the back of your neck.

You laid down, unsure how to react, still unwilling to touch or even close the book. Your skin prickling as though it could sense the heavy feeling of dread in the air.

Once you finally succumbed to an uneasy slumber, you dreamt of the bombs.

Sirens wailed from above as you trekked across an endless forest. Calling for help, voice hoarse as none came. The land turned barren with every step, an ashen land of death. Each moment, the sirens twisted more and more into tormented wails. A torrent of winds coming from each direction, bitter and sharp as knives against your skin.

With a pain in your chest that you could only describe as your heart being torn out piece by piece, you finally crumbled - broken and unable to continue. Weak and unwilling to fight any longer. You looked to the sky to beg for mercy when you saw an open door, its glowing insides the halls of the sanctuary promised to you. As you ran with energy anew, the sultry voice you heard was like a holy instrument carrying through the air.

Mr. Langdon came into vision, still blurred around the edges, you were unable to see him wholly. His forehead and golden locks bloodied from the thorns that encircled his head. One hand extended to you, another behind his back, his words coming to you clearly now as the thorns twisted into sharp horns.

Let me save you.

Let me save you.

Let me save you.

As you reached out your hand to his, the light faded from behind him, instead bringing forward his hidden hand that held a beating, bloody heart. Its steady tempo drowning out his plea as you felt a seeping emptiness consume your chest.

You woke with a start, body drenched in sweat as if you had been hugged by the sun itself. Your mind spun, consumed with a single thought - if the dream had progressed, would you hesitate to take his hand, despite what he had turned into before your eyes?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your heart was beating so fast you barely heard a word Venable was sprouting, only snippets of sounds came through between the coursing blood that filled your ears.

Your mouth was practically watering at the sweet smell, the feel of the smooth skin in your hands, the taste you knew would be yours if you only took a bite of the shiny red treasure held within the palm of your hand.

But that voice in the back of your mind was screaming at you, back away into the shadows slowly and whatever you do, do NOT eat the forbidden fruit. It will bring no knowledge, only suffering and agony beyond compare.

Something even further hidden away is telling you to run. Run as fast and as far as you can from this evil place and never, ever look back.

You hear Mr. Langdon’s words over and over in your mind. So powerful, you can almost feel his breath tickling your ear once more, his enticing warmth overtaking your body.

‘Remember, heed the warning of Snow White...

Never trust witches or beautiful apples.’

In what felt like the final step of a test, you decided to pause before sinking your teeth into the apple alongside all the other residents and instead slowly backed into the shadows of the hallway toward the kitchen.

The silence hung in the air, and you were a moment away from turning around when you heard a cough, then another and another, the sounds of shared agonized death building in a crescendo confirmed your fears.

It confirmed that Mr. Langdon somehow knew. And if he knew... why didn’t he stop it?

A thought ran through your head, a darker one biting at its heels, so fast you were unsure it was your own.

Why didn’t I?

...Because they deserved it

You desperately shook your head to rid yourself of the thought and suddenly realized the truth with resolute finality. There was no where to go. No where to run. No one to run to. No matter where you fled, it would be a dead end. Even if you escaped this cave, you would only be thrust into another wasteland, wandering the purgatory above.

You found yourself in the kitchen, unaware your feet had even brought you there. In what seemed to be a final act of mercy, or perhaps penance, you spotted a large butcher knife hanging on the wall.

The metal held tightly in your hand felt like an extension of your body from your place in the corner of the darkened pantry. You had locked yourself in, backed yourself into a corner. But where was there to run - truly, to escape to?

A desperate prayer silently fell from your lips. Not for peace nor forgiveness. But for Mr. Langdon’s capsule of pain free salvation.

Nonetheless, you figure even a knife to the heart would be better than suffering the death forced upon the other residents. At the first sound or sign the killers have noticed your absence, you’ll take yourself out. Death was no longer fearful. It was the undeniable ending you had accepted many months ago.

The sounds of steady steps broke through your contemplation. Your hand stilled as you raised the blade above your chest. Your body was unable to move for some unknown reason even though everything inside you begged you to move already.

This was the end.

Accept it.

Instead, all you could focus on are the sounds of the footfalls. Light but purposeful. Steady and strong, unlike Venable’s wavering trio of steps.

Calm, almost casual. As if they were taking a stroll in a park or admiring paintings in a museum. Unlike the rushed, quick steps of an always determined Ms. Mead.

As your mind caught up with what your heart and instincts knew, a smooth voice broke the silence, its undeniable comfort charging your body with its light.

“You can come out now, Princess.”

You looked up, a mixture of wet and dried tears on your cheeks, and saw a magnificent sight.

There was your savior, a circle of candlelight cradled his golden locks and danced around like a halo on fire. Tears sprung from your eyes once more. Not out of fear, but out of pure awe and admiration.

The knife fell with a loud echoing clang in the now empty stone halls. You could only stare on as Mr. Langdon shifted to lower himself to you.

He brought his right hand from behind his back, and extended it to you.

Without hesitation, this time, you accepted it.

You accepted Him.

[blookmallow]

hi i binged through all of salad fingers for the first time in like 8 years and im fixating again here are. My Theories. pls talk to me if anyone else has Thoughts or wants to discuss things. this is really long i am sorry :’ ) 

also shout out to the salad fingers wiki for helping me keep track of details and also for this 

-----

thought: salad fingers is not violent on purpose he did not mean to kill that kid 

this is less a theory and more “if you slander my boy with accusations i will Get you” but listen. i see people going “but he mURDERED A CHILD!!” because of the oven incident but listen. listen to me. he didnt mean to and cannot be held to the same standard of morality and understanding consequences as a. person who isn’t..... in whatever situation and mental state he has going on

- yes, the kid getting trapped in the oven was his fault. but it was not intentional or malicious and i sincerely doubt he understands what happened or why. 

he was asking for help reaching the fish (there’s no reason to believe he wasn’t just genuinely asking for help. he tears up in gratitude. theres no evidence of him Tricking People Maliciously in any other context i do not believe he would do that) and was distracted by the rusty nail, causing him to let go of the door. it wasn’t “he cares more about rust than about a child’s life” or something, i dont think he can actually hold “hey look at that i gotta check that out” and “i need to hold the door open so the child doesn’t get hurt” in his head at the same time, rust is his favorite stim/an impulse thing that takes over everything else and his perception of reality and the things going on around him changes very quickly and easily. more on that later. but the important point here is it wasn’t a malicious plot, or a neglectful careless action, he literally did not realize letting go of the door would cause harm 

he stabbed himself accidentally with the nail and passed out for a while (the fact that he immediately bled that much is concerning too, he probably has hemophilia which is. a medical condition outside of his control, as well) and after all that he had completely forgotten about the child altogether (and says “i must have dozed off” so he doesn’t even understand he passed out. and might not remember the nail thing in the first place) 

we don’t see what happened after this, we don’t know how he responds when he investigates the fish and inevitably finds an unexpected charred corpse in there, but i guarantee he won’t remember why its in there or understand that its a corpse. we dont see it again so its. entirely possible he didnt recognize it as a person and either just disposed of it or, uh, ate it. but if he did, it wasn’t with the knowledge and comprehension of it being A Corpse or the memory of how it got there 

theory: on salad fingers and memory / comprehension of death and consequences 

more on that subject

- we see him frequently doing things and then immediately forgetting he did it or forgetting what was happening. he accidentally squishes the bug (which also was not malicious or intentional, he intended to pet it but just. went too hard) and has no understanding either that its dead, or that he killed it. she has gone flat and gooey for some unknown reason. that’s strange. she needs to go have a wash, that’s no way to be. 

he eats the jeremy fisher puppet at one point and then immediately goes “where have you gotten to??” 

he even briefly forgets hubert cumberdale’s name and immediately comes up with another one without realizing it, and then later goes back to hubert cumberdale again with no mention of barbara logan-price 

he refers to the same little yellow guy as “young child” and also Auntie Bainbridge later on. he keeps up the fantasy of... whatever the fuck yvonne was being his child for a pretty long time but then when he arrives at “auntie bainbridge” ‘s house he suddenly forgets why he’s there, and even apparently forgets what yvonne is and uses  ‘her’ as a window rag instead and never mentions it again (I also don’t think she was in the sandwich at the end either. it’s hard to see but the sandwich contents are vaguely brown and theres a visible lump in the black goo behind him. i like the idea that the lil yellow guy made the sandwich for him) 

salad fingers is constantly subconsciously adjusting his reality to fit Whatever Makes The Most Sense At The Time and does not consistently remember things (sometimes even major things. he remembers his puppets the most consistently and still even forgets hubert’s name) or have a concept of cause and effect 

i think he possibly has some sense of recognition, “I’ve seen this person before,” but doesn’t always remember Why he knows them, and his mind just automatically fills in the blank with whatever makes sense to him. he doesn’t remember who the yellow guy is, but knows he knows them Somehow, so, ah, of course, it must be auntie bainbridge out for her sunday stroll :) and he knows he’s there for a reason, but not what that reason was, so he decides it must be time to clean the windows 

- milford cubicle was already dead when salad fingers opens the door, but he has no idea that hes dead. this isn’t even a cause for concern. my, he must be tired, that’s all. he kept milford there until he rotted away, too, so there was never a point where he realized anything was wrong (until he became skeleton. more on That later too) 

- he finds a corpse buried in the yard and rather than confronting the confusing and alarming reality of that situation, why it must be kenneth, back from the great war! at no point does he understand kenneth is definitely dead

theory: kenneth vs glass brother

i think he really did have a brother named kenneth who probably died in the war. could be some subconscious connection between “recognizing” a corpse as his brother, but i dont think he realizes any of that. i think the glass family is probably a trauma based hallucination, but a... well, reflection. pun not exactly intended lmao. on how his real family was and how they treated him

i dont think glass brother is the same brother as kenneth, since salad fingers interacts with them completely differently 

kenneth is a corpse that salad fingers projects a personality on and speaks for, while glass brother seems independent and malicious toward him. i think he had a good relationship with kenneth (so, when salad fingers imagines that he’s here, it’s cause for celebration and he’s projecting onto something inert and “safe”) and also had another brother (who was probably his twin) who bullied him and acted violently, so when that trauma resurfaces, he hallucinates a vicious Other that he cannot control or speak for.

it also tracks that the abusive brother was his twin - he sees himself reflected in the mirror, and something in his own face reminds him of that lost brother until it “becomes” him

he refers to kenneth as his younger brother, and sees him as a being that does not look like him, while glass brother is literally his reflection, so it would make sense if he had one identical twin and one younger brother 

ive seen theories that he had a real sister named bordois too, but i think him calling the bug “little sister” was just. a term of endearment or one of his little odd language quirks, he seemed to be talking to it more like a pet than like a sibling 

theory: regarding mable

- ok people are saying salad fingers killed mable at the picnic but i Really Don’t Think He Did

we never see him acting out violently when he gets scared. he tends to try to escape situations that stress him out, he shrinks, he cries, he goes into his cupboard (which is. incredibly upsetting given the fact he was almost definitely abused by his family) 

he takes on a kind of Authoritative Tone often, he gets sort of ruffled up and disdainful toward things, but that’s not what he does when he’s scared

when he’s actually distressed (rather than irritated) he tends to break down and retreat. this includes when other independent beings act in ways that unsettle and upset him 

so i dont know where the “he freaked out and killed her” idea is coming from. he suddenly goes from outside at the picnic to having a breakdown in his house so. he most likely just ran 

i think the Only time we see him act out violently is when he decides he has to punish marjory for not getting a haircut like he asked - he tears her hair out, but for me that scene was particularly concerning because it was so unlike him. that was an anger response, not a fear response, though, and he tends to be harsher toward things that he’s actually controlling (I don’t think we ever see him decide to Discipline something that was independent from him other than the horses, and he didnt hurt them) 

ordinarily when something irritates him he just goes “hmph! so distasteful. how rude. i shan’t have this behavior, you know” but doesn’t really actually do anything about it, and moves on

anyway we never see mable again so i think either he freaked out and ran away and she just didn’t come back, or he scared her and she ran away, or both 

there’s a dress visible briefly when salad fingers is making his Flesh Boy which could be mable’s (he did comment he liked it) but it’s not 100% clear, and that doesn’t necessarily mean he KILLED her for it. she could have changed into something else and left it somewhere and he found it. she could have died under unrelated circumstances, and salad fingers found her - he doesn’t comprehend death, so. probably he decided they’ve made amends now and she’s given him her dress as a token of friendship, or something 

i dont think it really looks that significantly like hers but the fact that it stands out so distinctly from the rest of the Pile could mean something 

but i just feel like if he had killed her we would’ve seen her corpse again, he doesn’t have a concept of murder, or death at all, or consequences, and his memory doesn’t hold out that consistently, so if he killed her, he probably would have calmed down later and then forgotten what he did and came up with a new way to explain the corpse in front of him - oh, how rude of me, mable’s here dozing right off and i havent even offered her a blanket. let’s get you to bed

like, he probably would have dragged her home with him, with the intention of being a good friend/host to his guest, not understanding what happened. he kept milford cubicle around a really long time  

it wouldn’t be like him to have any concept of hiding the evidence

speaking of milford 

theory: regarding milford cubicle 

salad fingers keeps milford’s corpse around until it starts rotting, and then after a very confusing series of events, the corpse is suddenly a skeleton, which surprisingly alarms salad fingers considerably, and then he goes out to find a whole bunch of himselves eating various bits of gore. they give him a present, which is a hat very clearly made of milford’s skin 

my conclusion: salad fingers, in some kind of dissociative fugue state, skinned and ate the remains of milford cubicle himself and turned the remaining skin into a hat. he also saves some of it to make hubert cumberdale (the real boy) later as well, probably forgetting where it came from. he does not realize he’s done this or remember doing it, so his scrambled mind tries to make sense of it with other selves eating unknown flesh, and a lovely hat appearing (which he doesn’t seem to notice is made of flesh) 

you can also see milford’s original name tag in the drawer later on when he’s building the flesh boy, so. he kept that after the mysterious disappearance of milford’s flesh, apparently. more evidence that that skin is probably also his

some other scattered thoughts regarding the most recent string of episodes and salad fingers’ mental state: 

ive been trying to figure out what the fuckhell happened with the yvonne incident and everything that happened in the birthday episode

im really concerned for salad fingers’ health and mental state, as it seems to be deteriorating 

some yvonne theories ive seen:

1. he ate the burned corpse of the kid who died in the oven, and it made him very sick, which ultimately resulted in a charred mass he couldn’t digest - he steadily gets worse, until his body finally ejects it (yvonne’s “birth”) and after that his health starts to recover again. since the oven incident happens really early on, all the times he mentions his stomach being upset after that until he becomes deathly ill would make sense, so i think this is plausible 

2. the hair he found in the cupboard was actually a parasitic worm that grew in his stomach after he ate it and became yvonne. i think this is Possible, it is a really strangely wormy looking hair, but it doesn’t move and he mentions stomach pains before this, so it seems less likely to me 

3. i also saw the concept that salad fingers is a trans man who suffered a miscarriage at some point in his past and yvonne represents that, and i can definitely see where the idea is coming from but i do think something really physically happened to him in the present time, i dont think it was all a trauma-based hallucination, since the yellow guy reacts to the black ooze and something was definitely making him severely ill 

so. i Don’t Know what the fuck that was about but i think the burnt corpse theory makes the most sense 

on that note: there’s a lot of cannibalism imagery in salad fingers 

we have no IDEA where he’s getting food from. im pretty sure its been confirmed that he is Not a zombie, we see him bleed, pass out, sleep, etc so it seems like he must be a living person who has ordinary needs. but we see him eat... his own puppets. hairs. sand. the soup glass mother instructed him to make, which made him very sick. he has a working oven but doesn’t seem to have consistent access to water. he had a fish somehow but who knows where it came from. it’s very likely he doesn’t get food often and some of his hallucinations and mood swings could be caused by starvation (and when he does eat, it’s things that are outright inedible or probably not good for him) 

the burned corpse disappears and is never mentioned again (though salad fingers is very sick afterward). milford’s flesh disappears and salad fingers violently hallucinates multiple selves gorging themselves on unknown flesh

and what concerns me the most about that is that he loses a lot of time in that episode 

he passes out in the woods and when he wakes up, it looks like a shit ton of time has passed

we don’t know how much is reality and how much is his warped perception, but it looks like a tree has grown and his physical condition has deteriorated 

he looks really, really unhealthy and haggard for the rest of the episode 

i think he had a huge dissociative episode and lost possibly weeks of time, probably due to starvation, and he ate milford cubicle and very possibly other people as well 

so my question is. how often does this happen to him

and what happens to him during that state? does he become violent and dangerous without being aware of it when he returns to himself again? or has he just been ravenously scavenging corpses when he gets desperate enough? 

its possible dr papanak is another personality he has, one that’s “buried out in the woods” that he becomes when he’s in a really, really bad mental and physical state 

he looks much better in the next episode (though that’s also when he has his outburst with marjory. could be that he’s still staving off the violent urges/hasn’t fully come back to himself after the last incident) and I’m really hoping the fact that he was able to finally stand up to his family (at least in some sense) and smash the mirrors could mean he’s making steps toward recovery after whatever the hell all that was 

there’s not really much space to do anything with his life or get much help given the circumstances but watching him slowly losing himself even more is Awful :( 

i hope we get more episodes im so desperate for more information now 

lastly, some random observations 

i tried to read this newspaper and it looks like it’s actually written in french, which is interesting given that salad fingers seems to be british (but fond of france, and seems to speak french or at least knows one phrase) 

i wonder where he got this, or whether it ever meant something significant to him

theres a lot of evidence that he can’t read (takes no notice of the “harry” nametag and immediately names him something else, “reads” a letter that is actually a newspaper clipping in another language he’s holding upside down, “writes” a letter that is just scribbles) so i dont think he learned his one french phrase from this or anything but, still. vaguely interesting. maybe he has been to france before and brought this back with him for some reason. maybe he’s actually in post apocalyptic france and was just originally from england. We Don’t Know 

theres a weird little face in the. heater? whatever that is in the background for a second and i dont like it  

salad fingers leaves horace in charge, but then sees him (as a live horse) in the woods, but then comes back to find him both still on the shelf (as a toy) and in the room (as a live horse, now with his, uh, surgery scars) but doesn’t seem to notice this and doesn’t comment on it 

i dont know what the hell that means other than possibly his reality is even less consistent and logical than usual/a reflection on his mental state deteriorating 

[leileisa]

pretty [iwaizumi hajime x reader]

pairing: yandere! iwaizumi hajime x reader

warnings: idk slight mention of sex, yandere, kidnapping, mentions of bondage

word count: 2.9k

a/n: my weakness for handsome, pure daddy material boys is immaculate. 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He remembers the first time he saw you as clear as day. A new transfer into class five, who came in almost as silent as the night. The teacher didn’t introduce you, unlike how they normally would, and instead just glanced at you as you entered the class silently. Iwaizumi met your eyes for just a second before you headed towards the only empty seat in the room, right next to him. 

That was when he fell in love with the sight of you: absolutely stunning in your looks, yet silent in your movements; a real life goddess. And he was the first person to see you. 

“Hi,” you whispered, trying to pull out the chair as quietly as possible. You were so cute, so considerate, with a slight grin on your face. “My name’s (y/n), what’s yours?” For a second, he thought he wasn’t going to be able to make eye contact with you for a second time that day. He could just tell you were looking at him so gently, and he had a hunch there wasn’t a malicious bone in your body. 

“Iwaizumi,” he said, his voice matching the same hushed tone as his eyes met yours. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Iwaizumi. Let’s have a good year.”

He watched you a lot, after that. He couldn’t get you out of his head. He didn’t even want to— you sat right next to him, and it was so easy for him to observe you. He noticed you used pens for the math and science classes, and pencils for your writing and languages (he realized that meant you were more confident in the classes you used pens in-- how convenient, because he was better at the latter classes). And that when you were confused about something, you bit the inside of your cheeks before letting out a sigh; after that, you’d confidently raised your hand and as for clarification.

Iwaizumi wasn’t the type to believe in love at first sight. He’s seen people fall into its deadly grip one too many times with Oikawa. He always thought it was stupid, how girls fell in love with his friend so easily. Maybe just because he’s been with Oikawa since childhood, but there wasn’t anything exciting about him— besides the fact that he knew how to play people. But Iwaizumi thought it was an obvious act to see through. Now, though, he could totally understand falling head over heels with someone at first glance. 

It only took one second, a singular moment in time, a barely registered eye contact for him to know that you— you were the one. 

It was like a message from God, for you to sit next to him. An opportunity that he couldn’t let slide past his fingers. So he sat next to you, for as long as he could, and just observed you. He knew your studying habits from when you would ask him to study with you, fifteen minutes before class started, just as a precaution. He noticed you always ate the fruits in your bentos before anything else, and you seemed to have an extra bottle of water in your backpack. You weren’t in any sports, but he liked that you tried to keep yourself healthy. 

“You’re in the volleyball club, right, Iwaizumi?” You had asked him once. You looked a little different that day, a little less tired, but you still slide next to him with a lazy grin on your face. 

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi responded, setting down his pencil. “Why do you ask?” 

He remembers the way your grin turned more enthusiastic, more eager, after his response. “I went to your game last weekend! It was amazing watching you play!”

Watching you play.

You watched him play! Not the other third years on the team, him, Iwaizumi Hajime. For a second, he feels foolish; he didn’t see or hear you in the crowd. How did he miss someone who shines as brightly as you in the crowd, cheering for him, watching him play? 

He quickly put those thoughts behind him, because that doesn’t change the fact that you were there. That you watched him play. Iwaizumi couldn’t help the giddiness that spread throughout his body. Is this what Oikawa felt every game when he knew that people watched him? The pure, unadultured excitement that coursed through his veins, a slight shiver to go up his spine that causes goosebumps to explode across his arms? He loved it. He loves you.

“You’re the ace, right?” You’re as gentle but precise with your words as you usually are when you interrupt his thoughts. “Watching you hit the ball so hard was unreal. I had no idea you were that strong! I knew you guys practiced a lot, but I didn’t realize it was a lot a lot. I mean, you guys communicated so easily out there it was like you were telepathic!”

“We’re a team, we have to work together.” God, Hajime, don’t sound like you don’t care. “With the amount of time we spend together, we’re like a family.” 

“That’s so sweet, Iwaizumi!” You gushed, giving him a goofy grin with your hands pressed against your cheeks. “You’re usually so composed, but it’s always nice to be able to rely on people like you do.” 

“You could become our manager.” It was an honest offer, and it came out of his mouth without thinking. I want to see you more.

“I couldn’t,” you sighed. “It’s our third year, and I don’t know anything about volleyball-- me being around would just be a waste.”

“It wouldn’t be a waste,” Iwaizumi was quick to shut you down. “We could always use the extra help with practice. I could teach you the rules— I can help you. You can be part of the team.” We can get to know each other better. 

The words came out of his mouth easily. They were honest, determined. He wanted nothing less than to spend every waking moment of the day with you; if you joined the team, he would have more reasons to talk to you. He could spend more time with you, and he would get to know you more. It would be perfect.

Keeping eye contact with him was hard. Iwaizumi’s full focus was on you, and his eyes were so intense as they stared into yours. You were determined to keep eye contact with him, though, and you just stared back. A sigh, then, “I’ll think about it.” 

Iwaizumi couldn’t wait for your response.

He got his answer a couple days later, when he saw you talking to coach Nobuteru with papers in your hands. Coach had his arms crossed as he looked down at you. You were nodding as your delicate fingers shifted through the papers, taking in every word that coach said to you. He couldn’t believe it— you were there, you took his advice. You were joining the team!

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa said, slinging an arm across his shoulders before Iwaizumi shrugged it off. “A little birdy told me this cutie is in your class, Iwa-chan! How’d you do it?” 

“Back off, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi growled, harshly shoving his childhood friend out of his personal space. “I just asked her to consider it.” There was no way Iwaizumi would tell Oikawa how he felt, despite them being friends for ages. He knows Oikawa would make a big deal out of it (a way bigger deal then it needed to be, anyway), and there was no way he would risk any potential embarrassment around you. Things were already going so perfectly, and he wasn’t about to let anything ruin his chance. 

A knowing glint shone in Oikawa’s eyes as he just placed his arm back around him. “I’m not stupid, Hajime. You don’t talk to just anyone.” 

“I talk to you,” he retorted quickly, glaring. He made no move to move the eccentric males arm. He would never, ever, admit his feelings to Oikawa. But he couldn’t help the intensity in his eyes as he watched you from across the gym, or the pure elation that spread throughout his body. You were just in his reach, and he could almost taste you. 

“Iwaizumi, hi!” You shouted as you ran across the gym, papers still in your hand, and your gorgeous, illuminating smile on your face.

“Hey,” He said, a fraction of a smile on his face. It was genuine, but he couldn’t be too expressive with his best friend right beside him. 

“I— uh, I took your advice,” you grinned sheepishly, showing him the papers. “I’m joining the team. As your, um, your manager, of course. I don’t play volleyball.”

It was so cute, how timid and insecure you were when you talked to him sometimes. You had no reason to worry, he thought, nothing could change how beautiful you were to him. 

“I can see that,” Iwaizumi grinned at you. He felt his hands twitch; you were so close to him, and you were starting to share likes for the same things. Can’t you just see that you were meant for each other?

“Welcome to the team, Manager-chan! I’m Oikawa, the captain of this team.” As annoying and inconvenient as ever, his enthusiastic best friend (he cringed as he thought of that), interrupted their moment. 

“I know!” You chirped, waving the papers in your hands. “I went to some of your games. You’re a setter, right?” Instead of looking at Oikawa, your face turned towards his dark-haired friend instead. Iwaizumi nodded, and when your attention went back to his friend, he just let out a grin. Iwaizumi’s way of dominance, his way of saying she’s mine. 

It just showed how perfect you were; that you were such a good girl, asking for his confirmation. He could just imagine you asking his permission for things— asking to hold his hand, your soft eyes looking into his with overwhelming adoration, or the desperation as you cry out to him, begging for him to let you come, that you’ll be his good girl if he just doesn’t stop.

After becoming the manager, you and Iwaizumi immediately grew immensely closer. He taught you about volleyball, and you listen intently. You stay late with him when he feels like practicing late with the other third years, and he can’t help the flutter in your heart when you ask to join. You’re not that great— but you’re trying, and it’s just so cute to see you try your best. 

The more he sees you, the more he hangs out with you, the more he falls in love. It’s an endless spiral of devotion, he realizes, every time you cross his mind. He’s absolutely, undoubtedly, in love with you, and just thinking of having you be his makes skin erupt into excited goosebumps.

He never thought that it’d only be a few years later before he could get the real thing. He has you in his grasp, the love of his life living with him, looking just so perfect and exactly how he wants. 

“See, baby? Such a good girl for me,” he coos, his fingers twirling in your hair. “It’s not that hard to just do as I say, you know? If you keep being so good for me, I’ll give you a reward. You want that reward, my sweet thing?”

Your back is aching from sitting upright in the chair for hours on end. The soft pink leather that binds your wrists and ankles to the edges of the chair were tied just a little too tight, the slight numbing in your hands, though not enough to distract you from the bathroom mirror that you were facing. Soft pastels, pinks, blues, and even yellows surrounded you. The only thing standing out in the reflection was the black shirt and pants that Iwaizumi was wearing as he stood behind you, gently combing your slightly damp hair. Your body shook as tears threatened to spill across your waterline, bottom lip shaking.  

Iwaizumi pulls at your hair. “Answer me, baby girl. Be good.”

“Yes,” you whisper, eyes never wavering from your reflection. He wanted you to see just how perfect you were in his eyes, with soft hair that was styled the same way it was in high school. The last time you shut your eyes to try and escape the visual nightmare, you hadn’t seen anything for days. Iwaizumi locked you in a dark room, chained to the bed with a metal collar and chain that allowed almost no movement, and had barely fed you anything until you were a sobbing mess, telling him how sorry you were— that you wouldn’t make that mistake again, that you would be good. 

You still have the bruises around your throat as a reminder. 

“Yes, what?” He spoke, voice stern and commanding. His body went straight and rigid behind you, grip still tight on your hair, as if he was showcasing the ring of purple and blue around your neck as a suggestion to not test his patience. 

“Yes, sir.” You repeated, voice trembling. You swallow the lump in your throat in an effort to not cry, but you couldn’t help the sob as a few tears flood down your face. 

“Don’t cry, baby,” his voice lowered into a soothing whisper as he released his grip on your hair to rub your scalp. You watch as he brings his face close to yours. Iwaizumi pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, an action that would make your heart flutter and swell with adoration if the situation had been different, and his lips trail until they reach your ear. The closeness of his face and the warmth of his breath does nothing to help you calm down, and you cry harder. “You’re so pretty, see? So perfect for me. My perfect girl. There’s no reason to cry.”

“I would have said yes,” you say quickly, eyes looking at him in the mirror. You can see him pause, so you continue. “If you asked me out, I-I would have said yes.” His body shook slightly in the mirror, and you could hear his deep chuckle from right beside you.

“I know,” he said. “I watched you for months. I saw everything you did, you think I didn’t notice the way you looked at me?” Iwaizumi moves from his hunched over position, and you can see him move directly behind you.

“Look at me.” 

Your eyes immediately meet his in the mirror, and he just grins at you. He fists your hair, painfully, and pulls your head back until you feel the cramp in your neck. 

“No, baby. I said look at me.” 

Your eyes move from the mirror and look into his. It was always scarier, when you looked at him face to face. The mirror made it feel like there was a barrier between the two of you, some form of protection, but looking into his eyes was so much more painful. The pure, uncontrollable, raw passion that shone in his eyes like an untamed fire that refused to die out was what scared you the most. It scared you how much he cared for you.

“Still so pretty for me, even when you’re crying.” His thumb gently wiped the tear stains from your cheeks. He brought his tongue to the edge of his mouth, the appendage slowly peaking between his beautiful lips and delicately wiping the salty tears he collected away. “You know I love you, right? I’d do anything for you.”

Your heart is racing, neck still cramping in the uncomfortable position. Your head stings from the painful grip Iwaizumi still has on your hair, but you refused to avoid eye contact. 

There’s still a part of you that thinks that there’s still the Iwaizumi that you met years ago, your old seat mate, the first person you felt close to at a new school, is still there. The first person you considered a friend in the most stressful year of your life, and the one who invited you into his boisterous, overwhelming volleyball family when you expressed your jealousy. The one who just looked out for you when you felt like nobody else would. 

“Then-then let me go,” you plead, eyes begging him to just listen to you. “I’ll be good, you know I will. I’ll be your good girl if you just let me go.”

“Oh, my pretty baby.”

You can see his brows furrow, but he lets go of his deathly grip on your hair. You follow his figure as he goes to sit on the bathroom counter in front of you, his forearms resting on his thighs with his broad chest slightly hunched over. His tongue shoots out to lick his lips, and he clicks his tongue. “You know I can’t do that.”

“Ple-please, you know I won’t do anything to upset you. I’ll stay with you, just please let me out. I hate these!” You say, trying to move your hands and feet. All you feel is the rawness and resistance against them. “They’re too tight, a-and they’re uncomfortable. Please take them off,” You’re begging at this point, full-blown tears falling across your face. You have enough mobility to reach your head to place it on his thigh, and you look up at him from between his legs. “Just take them off, Iwaizumi, please!”

He just sighs, and you feel his fingers lightly trace across your face as you close your eyes. Iwaizumi holds your head between his hands as he lifts your head off his thigh, and he presses a tender kiss right between your eyes. You hate it, but you can feel the love and care he puts behind it.

“I can’t do that,” he whispers, pressing two more delicate kisses on your eyelids. “You’re just too pretty.”

[luminouspoes]

until the poets run out of rhyme

pairing: poe dameron x f!reader (modern au)

summary: poe and the reader go out for drinks with their friends, but soon have to make a detour in their evening plans. (based on the prompt: if you want to leave, we can)

word count: 4k ~

warnings: swearing, mentions of anxiety, sensory overload

You curl and uncurl your feet, burying your toes into the plush of your carpet, gnawing on your bottom lip as you stare at the dress on your bed. In just under an hour, your long-time best friend Poe Dameron will be showing up to pick you up to take you to Maz’s for drinks with Snap, Jess, Kare and Sura to celebrate Sura’s most recent journalism award. 

You aren't as close to them as you are to Poe - they were more his group of friends rather than your shared one of him, Finn and Rey - but they’d welcomed you with warm arms long ago, much like how your group of friends - Kaydel, Beaumont and Rose - welcomed Poe.

Which means that you really want to go to Maz’s bar and enjoy drinks with him, his friends, and celebrate Sura’s big moment because you know how much ass she kicks at her job and just how hard she's worked to get where she is today. But familiar icy ribbons of anxiety have coiled in your gut, spilling up and twisting around your heart at the idea of going out.

You close your eyes, breathing out slowly. Briefly, you remember something Poe once said, half as a joke, half as a genuine reassurance to himself, and you mumble it out loud to yourself in the empty room, “Happy beeps. You can do this.”

It doesn’t erase your anxiety, but the memory of your best friend is enough to bring a sense of comfort to you, and you grab the dress with a gentle smile on your lips to get dressed. The skirt flares out at your knees, and is a deep shade of red, with a sheer neck and sleeves. It’s comfortable, and once you add a pair of flat heeled ankle boots to the look, you think you’re just about ready.

You grab your purse and duck out of your bedroom into your living room, stopping by the bookcase to make your decision on which book to take. Finn and Rey were at first baffled by this trait of yours (then immediately started joking about how you really were perfect for Poe), but you never left home without a book within reach. Most of the time, you didn’t actually get a chance to even read it, but knowing you had one...helped your nerves. It was like carrying a miniature hug in your purse.

It took you longer than you expected to land on a decision: by the time you’re shoving your selected paperback into your purse, there’s a familiar knock on the door. Your heart does a quick somersault in your chest, and you bound to the door. You peer out the peep-hole, to see Poe standing in the hallway, waving a cheeky hello in your direction.

You grin as you unlatch the door, opening it with a swing. Your greeting flees from your mind as you take in the sight of him. It’s not so different from his usual attire, but he’s ditched his usual tee-shirt and beat-up leather flight jacket for a black button-up and black leather jacket. The jeans, however, are the same.

“Wow,” Poe breathes, beating you to the compliment as he gawks at you. “You look...really pretty.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you duck your head, giving a slight twirl so the skirt will flare out around you as you spin. When you come back to a stop in front of him, Poe’s still got that gobsmacked expression on your face that sends butterflies soaring in your gut. “You think?”

“I know,” Poe affirms, composing himself. “You ready for this?”

You nod once, “Just let me get my purse, I forgot it on the counter. You can come in, you know. You don’t have to wait outside every time, you’re not a vampire.” You don’t look behind you as you move through your apartment, but you hear the door click behind Poe as he follows.

“I could be, you don’t know for sure.” Poe calls. 

You bark a laugh as you pull your purse over your shoulder, twisting to face him as he crosses the room to you. “Mhm, I’ve seen you doing your hair in the mirror before, you have a reflection. You love the sunlight, and you always eat the garlic bread I make when we have dinner parties.” 

“I could be a recent vampire?” Poe tries with a lopsided smile, and you giggle again. His eyes light up at the sound; he loves hearing your laugh but especially loves it when he’s the cause of it. He’ll be purposely ridiculous for it any day of the week. “Got your book?” 

You pull it from your bag to show him the cover, and he clicks his tongue appreciatively, “Good taste.” 

"I always have good taste in books.”

Poe hums in response, taking a step closer to you. Moments like these come easily, where the rest of the world just...fades away until it’s just the two of you. It drives your friends up a wall, but you couldn’t care less when Poe looks at you like you’re his whole world and his lips are quirked up in a little bit of a smirk as he banters back. “I don’t know about,” he says in a low tone, dragging his gaze from the cover back up to your face and you swear for just a moment he pauses on your lips, "you like horror novels.”

Your heart thundering against your ribcage for a much different reason now, you fight to keep your eyes in a safe zone. The way he’s looking at you makes every possible response you could normally think of fly right out of your mind, as your mouth goes dry. Finally, you take another step forward, challenging him with a smirk of your own, "That’s because I’m not afraid to read them like some people, Dameron.”

“I’m not afraid,” Poe protests automatically, the argument a familiar one, but neither of you are really focused on running through the motions of it right now.

The room seems to crackle with energy and potential around you, and part of you so desperately wants to take that leap, but the other half is terrified that if you do, then you’ll lose this magic, this friendship you’ve nurtured with Poe for the last five years. So you dip your head at the last second, folding first. 

Breaking out of his own trance, Poe takes a slight step back before he holds out his arm to you, “Ready?”

There’s that spike of nerves again, but you brave through it, nod once and loop your arm through his. “Let’s rock and roll,”  you hesitate just a moment as you think of the moment before and how easily the two of you still managed to fall into each other’s personal space again. Maybe you really don’t have anything to worry about. “Oh and Poe?”

“Yeah?” He asks as you step out into the hallway, cocking his head towards you.

“You look pretty wow too,” you tell him, leaning forward to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek. 

-

It goes well, for the most part. The others grabbed a booth in the corner of the bar, placing you away from the brunt of the noise and crowd. You knew this wasn’t a coincidence: Snap, Kare, Jess and Sura were always accommodating for your anxiety, and it wasn’t as though they didn’t have their own to contend with either. 

Poe leads you to the booth with a hand on the small of your back, a wide grin on his face as he nears his friends. You drink in the sight of his joy, as you do every time you meet up with them, in between reunion hugs with everyone. Then, the two of you settle into one side of the booth, you at the wall and Poe sliding in next to you, his arm winding around behind you on the back of the seat, as he always did, but you surprise him by keeping one hand on his thigh the entire time. 

The conversation comes easily between the six of you, laughter flooding through the corner as you knock back cheers for Suralinda’s accomplishments. By the time you’re halfway through your first (and only) drink, you’ve nearly forgotten about your apprehension. 

It comes back quickly before you hit the bottom of the glass when a new, far rowdier group enters the bar. They aren’t doing anything malicious, but their loud rumbles and hollers are too much combined with the rustle of silverware and clinking of glasses and the noise of the pool table and the radio blaring above, and the tv stationed by Maz’s bar.

You tense up as you try to tune out the rest of the noise to focus on your friends, but you can already feel your nerves beginning to fray, and you just want to run away to somewhere quiet, and that only frustrates you more because you want to be here, in this corner and -

“Hey,” Poe’s voice was but a concerned whisper to get your attention and it cuts through some of the haze in your mind. You turn to him, opening your mouth to...say what you have no idea, but recognition flashes behind his eyes. Poe has an incredible sense for when you’re getting overwhelmed. “If you want to leave, we can.” 

You want to protest, because you’ve barely spent any time here, but before you can, someone drops a glass from across the room and you jump at the sound. “Alright,” Poe says as he locks eyes with Jess, tilting his head toward the door and jerking his thumb in your direction as Snap, Kare and Suralinda continue their argument over a show they all watch. Jess nods in understanding, and then Poe’s standing up and offering you his hand.

You take it after a beat of hesitance, and then he guides you away from all the noise, back outside toward his car. He was one of two designated sober drivers of the night - Snap being the other one.

You slide into the passenger seat, Poe closing the door behind you, before coming around to sit in the driver’s seat. He twists around to face you. He wants to reach out for you, but he knows sometimes touch can make things worse when you’re overwhelmed. “Better?” he asks.

“Yeah, thank you. Sorry for messing up the evening.” You tilt your head back against the seat-rest, eyes closing with exhaustion. This is far from the first time you’ve all had to cut an evening short or take a breather from things, but still...you were hoping tonight would go by smoothly for the celebration.

“You didn’t mess anything up,” Poe assures you, giving you a pained look that you miss. He hates how you blame yourself for things that aren’t even your fault, how you seem to think taking care of you is some horrible burden he and the others have to deal with. He can’t even begin to count how many times you’ve taken care of him when he needed it, how in the last five years, you’ve come to understand and know him in ways that so few could, that you knew exactly what to do to calm and ground him. 

How many times had you held him after he woke up from a nightmare while you were staying at his apartment, or him at yours? How many mornings had he woken up feeling safe and loved, still in your arms in the morning light? He could only hope he made you feel the same way. “We’ve all had a great time already, we got to celebrate Suralinda’s big moment, and if you want, when you’re ready, we can go back in for more fun - and if you’re not up for that, then that’s okay, too.”

You exhale deeply, focusing on his words and the sincerity behind them. You know it’s true - really, you do. You know it’s not as big of a deal as your brain is trying to make it out to be, you know that your brain can lie to you, make shit up that simply isn’t true to make you feel alone, but sometimes it’s hard to rationalize through that, sometimes it’s hard to remember what’s true and what isn’t.

But Poe knows that.

You turn your head to face him; Poe’s half washed in golden light from an overhead streetlight, half cloaked in shadows, and the smile on his lips is rueful. You don’t know how you lucked out at having such an amazing best friend in your life, but you’re suddenly choked up with some soft, overpowering emotion as you realize - not for the first time - how much he means to you.

You duck your head. “Thank you, for always having my back.”

Poe reaches out for you, catching your wrist lightly and his touch burns in the most wonderful way as he grazes his palm down over yours, interlocking your fingers together. “Thank you for the same,” he tells you, before adding with a lopsided smile, “what are best friends for, right?”

You shake your head, a laugh bubbling from your lips before you can help it, and you echo his words in agreement, “What are best friends for?” 

-

You head back into Maz’s long enough to say goodbye to everyone and congratulate Sura again, and then you’re climbing back into Poe’s car. You kick off your shoes into the floorboard, tucking one leg under you as Poe offers to drive you around town to help clear your head.

Most nights when you’d go on drives like this, the car would be filled with songs from your favorite playlist and the sound of you and Poe singing along to them. However, tonight it’s filled with a gentle silence occasionally broken by Poe filling it with stories from work that week: he worked at Alderaan Books, a small mom and pop store that’d been a staple in the town for years. It was run by the gentle powerhouse of a woman, Leia Organa, who’d inherited it from her parents Bail and Breha. 

Alderaan Books was entirely the reason why you even had Poe in your life. When you moved into town five years before, you’d decided to familiarize yourself with the various shops and stuff. Eventually, a storm had caught you, and the bookshop was the nearest dry place within quick walking distance. You’d burst inside, shivering and soaked from head to toe, and then there was Poe: with black as midnight curls and twinkling eyes and a soft, friendly smile as he offered you a towel to dry off with.

You’d spent the rest of the afternoon in the shop, talking with him - because of the storm, you were pretty much the only customer there - getting to know him. By the time he was offering you a cup of coffee and a book recommendation, you knew Alderaan Books and Poe Dameron would become an important part of your life here in this town, and you hadn’t been wrong.

Eventually, he’s turning down the road that leads to his apartment and you feel the rest of the tension in your body deflate. You didn’t fancy the idea of going back to your own apartment, empty and quiet as it was, after tonight. Which Poe would’ve known because you’ve asked to stay with him after being overwhelmed for that exact reason before; still, something warm stirs in your chest as he does so instinctively. 

He does spare a glance at you, to double check if that’s alright, and you give him a grateful nod, reaching out to squeeze his hand. He twists his so that your palms are flush against each other, and he interlocks your fingers together.

(He wishes he could pull your hand up to his lips, press a kiss to your knuckles, and maybe in another life, he could. But in this one, he doesn’t).

You’re both practically leaning against each other as you walk up the stairs to his apartment, your shoes in your hand, as Poe tells you about a book he’d found in their stock that he thought sounded up your alley. This was, in a way, a love language for the two of you: sharing music and books were as much a staple in your relationship as your banter and lack of personal space.

As you reach his door, Poe’s still describing the plot as detailed on the back cover as he unlocks it to let you in. You smile gratefully at him as he holds it open for you, letting you in first. Immediately, you look around the living room to see if you can spy Poe’s beloved cat, Beebee, but he doesn’t seem to be in the room - probably curled up on one of Poe’s bookshelves in his bedroom, since that was one of Beebee’s favorite haunts.

You collapse onto Poe’s couch as he heads to the kitchen to start boiling some water in the electric kettle. You sit your ankle boots neatly between the space between the couch and the little table beside it, and then crash back against the soft pillows. 

“Why is your couch so comfortable?” You call to the kitchen. Poe leans out from the window frame that bridges the kitchen to the living room, his curls falling haphazardly over his brow at the sudden movement.

“Because I have excellent taste,” he reminds you, before he pulls his body back into the kitchen. The ridiculousness of the man that is your best friend makes you laugh, and you slowly haul yourself from the comfort of the cushions to pad to the kitchen. You’re still a little worn out from the evening, but there’s a quiet thrum of energy in you now that you’re somewhere that feels safe and cozy.

He’s pouring water into two different mugs for you both, tea tags hanging loosely at their sides. Your heart warms as you realize he’s pulled out your favorite mug - a dull orange one that you always used for tea, because you’d unconsciously adapted a system at his house and had a different mug for coffee and tea - from the cabinet. When Poe turns around, there’s a gentle smile on his face as he motions at the mugs. “They’ll be done in about four minutes,” he announced unnecessarily, because you knew how long it took for his favorite brand of tea to steep. 

Wordlessly, you pull your phone from your dress’ pocket, and pull up your music player. You press the shuffle button and sit the phone down on the counter, letting the room fill with soft tunes as you wait for your tea, leaning against the counter and letting your head roll back and forth.

Poe’s hand skims down your arm, leaves goosebumps in his wake, “You feeling better?”

“Yeah, I am. Just kind of restless now, you know?” 

“Well,” Poe drawls out, his eyes flicking over to your phone and back at you, a mischievous smile lighting up his handsome features, “we’ve got some time...and you so helpfully gave us a soundtrack,” he presses his hand over his heart and gives you a small bow, flourishing that same hand out to you in offering, “would you allow me this dance, sweetheart?”

Your cheeks warm, a smile rising to your own face and you accept his hand. “I’d like that a lot.” 

He tugs you closer to him, linking both your hands together, and you both begin to dance around the kitchen - clumsy, dorky movements that follow the beat of an Abba song, laughing each time one of you bump into each other or step on each other’s feet. Eventually, you collide against each other, still swaying and bouncing to the music, and you rest your head against Poe’s shoulder.

As the first song fades out, your shuffle immediately begins the next — which just so happens to be “Can’t Help Falling In Love”. Poe shifts into a slower dance and you follow his lead. He presses his nose against the side of your head, and you can feel his breath against your earlobe as he begins to murmur the lyrics of the song.

Like earlier in your apartment, the air between you grows weighted. This isn’t just him singing along to a song, the way he’s reciting the lyrics feels like a confession: a gentle one, one that you could easily ignore if you wanted to - and a thrill of anticipation thrums under your skin as you realize you don’t want to ignore it. You’re not sure you’ve ever known someone so beautiful before: not just in appearance, but in soul. He practically radiates light and love, a constant source of warmth and sunshine in your life that you’ve come to rely on. You can’t imagine life without him: he’s who you picture beside you whenever you think of the future: late night car rides with him, bickering together in the kitchen, cuddling on the couch reading together. He’s your best friend, he’s -

You swallow hard. He’s more than that. You want him, more than anything, and it’s suddenly imperative that he knows that.

“Our tea should be done,” Poe says when the song comes to a close, pulling back to search your eyes for your reaction. 

“They were done by the time Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! ended, Poe.” 

“So they’re really strong cups of tea now,” Poe offers with a lopsided smile. His hands have found a home on your waist, and their warmth seeps through the fabric of your dress. When you still don’t move out of his arms, but rather shift closer to him, placing your hand on his cheek, his breath hitches just slightly before he says your name.

“Yeah?”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, like he’s internally debating something. Finally, he whispers, “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you,” you reply as you run your thumb along his cheekbone. You lean up on your tiptoes, searching his gaze for any signs of hesitance at your closeness, then you finally ask what you’ve wanted to for a fucking long time: “Can I kiss you?”

“Please,” Poe replies but he doesn’t move any closer to you, instead just asks, “You sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you tell him lowly and the heated look he gives you in return, paired with a dazzling smile you want to remember for as long as you live, is enough to give you the courage you need to crash your lips against his.

He gathers you up in his arms to draw you closer, a warm expansive hand sliding up your spine,to cradle the back of your neck as his other hand grips your hip, fingers bunching around the fabric of your dress. You move your hand from his cheek up into his curls, dragging your fingers through them experimentally, dragging a hum from low in his throat that you want to pull from him again.

You move forward, intending to nudge him back against the kitchen counter, but Poe has other plans, and at the last second, he spins you around so that the counter presses against your back as he presses flush against you. He pulls away from your mouth to pepper kisses everywhere he can reach: your brow, the tip of your nose, your eyelids, your jawline, and finally, your neck, where he stops and stays, burying his face in the crook of it as you hold him against you as you try to catch your breath.

Eventually, with one last brush of his lips against your skin, he straightens and fixes you with a bashful expression. You loop your arms around his neck, smiling up at him, feeling warm and happy. “Poe?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

He leans down again, and when your lips meet a second time, you can feel his smile pressed against your own, as he murmurs, “I love you too.”

[fanmoose12]

He's invited to their engagement party. Levi doesn't know if it's a cruel joke or a horrible misunderstanding. Quite frankly, he's not sure what's worse. He decides not to go either way. He doesn't think his heart can take it. And he doubts he'd be a welcomed guest there anyway.

But then Moblit visits their office. He doesn't come to Hange, doesn't bring flowers or other gifts. No, he goes straight to him.

"Can we talk, Levi?" he pocks his head inside, smiling slightly. The smile is painfully awkward, and yet endlessly sincere. What a fucking sweetheart, Levi thinks bitterly. So different from him. Perhaps, that's why Hange chose him in the end.

"What do you want?" he grunts, staring at his computer screen and trying to appear busier than he actually is. But Moblit either doesn't get the hint, or doesn't care. Wearing that same damn smile, he walks further into Levi's office and sits down on a chair that stands by his desk.

"It's about the engagement party," he gets straight to the point, almost leaving Levi breathless. The audacity... And he thought the other man was a sweetheart. "You're the only one who didn't give an answer..."

Levi hopes Moblit doesn't ask for his reason. Calling Hange's fiance a fucking moron would probably destroy what little relationship they still have.

"I know your history with Hange isn't the simplest one..." the smile falters for a second, but doesn't leave Moblit's face completely. "But she still holds you in high regard. She would want you to be there for her."

What an insolent fucking bastard. Wants him to be there? Wants to have his heart ripped out, more likely. Levi doesn't believe Hange is that cruel.

But if what Moblit tells him is true... If Hange really wants him to come, then he simply has no choice. He always had trouble with saying no to her, after all.

He makes this hard decision surprisingly easy.

"I'll be there, don't worry," he tells Moblit.

The man beams. He reaches out and catches Levi's hand, shaking it heartily. "Thank you so much," he says. "It'll mean so much to Hange, and I just want to make her happy, you know?"

More than you'll ever know, Levi thinks.

But, truth be told, he doesn't understand Moblit. If he was in his place - and there was a time where he almost was - he would never invite Hange's assholish ex to their engagement party, he'd rather kick his ass, and hard. But, perhaps, that's the difference between them, the difference that made Hange choose Moblit over him. Moblit places her happiness well above his own. And Levi can't thank him enough for that.

He can try, though.

"Thank you as well," he murmurs, and for a moment, Moblit's eyes fill with confusion. But then that second passes, and he seems to understand him, and his gaze softens, as he gives Levi a small nod.

"See you soon," he says, and leaves Levi's office.

He stares at the closed door for another minute, trying to understand what had possessed him to agree to it. To willingly go and celebrate Hange's engagement to another man... Something is definitely wrong with him.

That's called torturing yourself, a malicious voice in his head whispers.

Levi's intent to agree.

***

He realizes what a mistake he made pretty quickly. Two seconds after entering the café Moblit had rented out for the occasion, to be exact.

He walks in, sees Hange and Moblit in a middle of a room, dancing, while everyone cheers on them, and wants to walk out immediately.

The song choice is awful as well. He always hated Walk the Moon.

He's still by the door, and, maybe, if he leaves now, no one would notice. He almost turns back but then-

Then he remembers.

She would want you to be there for her

With a deep sigh that gets lost in a loud beat of music, he walks inside. He moves as discreetly as possible, avoiding everyone's curious eyes, as he tries to find a seat in the deepest, darkest corner of the café.

He finds it, fortunately. And, surprisingly, someone is already occupying it. His eyes widen, as he recognizes Petra. Soft-spoken and sweet, she can't exactly be called a life of the party. Yet for her to be hiding in the corner... It's a little bit strange, Levi can't deny it.

His thoughts about Petra are chased away when a new song comes in.

Oh, her eyes, her eyes

Make the stars look like they're not shinin'

God, if there is someone he hates more than Walk the Moon, it's Bruno Mars. The song is fitting though, he can't deny.

She is perfect just the way she is.

He turns away from Petra and heads for the bar.

He orders vodka on the rocks for himself, and - because he can be a gentleman sometimes - he also asks for a cocktail that is so sugary it can probably give one cavities for Petra.

When he sits next to her, handing her a drink, Petra smiles and thanks him. A faint blush colors her cheeks too, but Levi ignores it, churning it up to the poor lighting of the room. He ignores Petra's attempt at conversation as well, gladly he has all the reason to - the music is too loud to hear anything else. For once, Levi is thankful for that.

Petra keeps glancing at him, though, and the red on her face gets more prominent, and with a deep sigh Levi turns to her.

Petra is pretty, incredibly so. Only a blind wouldn't see it. Only a blind wouldn't see her obvious crush on him as well. Petra is sweet and pretty, maybe, he should talk to her. Maybe, it'd ease some of his heartbreak. Not all of it, obviously. Only one person can do it. The person who is still twirling around with the man who is not him.

His hand is almost reaching to her, his fingers are almost at her forearm, when a fucking photo montage begins.

Set to A Thousand Years.

He curses and bolts out of his place. Even he is not masochistic enough to watch hundreds of photos with the love of his fucking life in the arms of another man.

He walks outside and takes a deep breath. His tense muscles relaxe instantly when the sounds of music and laughter and delighted cheering fades away. He leans against the bricked wall and directs his gaze up to the sky. Stars aren't visible yet, the wind is slightly too harsh to be standing in just jacket and shirt and he forgot his cigarette pack, but Levi chases those complaints away.

He's almost content and he intends to stay this way, but then-

The door opens, and Levi turns to it with a scowl, thinking that it's Petra who decided to follow him. He realizes his mistake immediately, and his breath hitches, when he is met with those brown deep eyes.

Fuck.

He swiftly tears his gaze away, suddenly extremely aware of his heartbeat.

"Sorry!" Hange chuckles, the sound too hollow to be genuine. Out of the corner of his eyes, Levi sees her running a hand through her hair, messing it up even more. "I didn't wish to-"

"You didn't," he breathes out. He closes his eyes for a second, mustering all of his courage, and then looks up at her. "The street is wide enough to fit both of us. Stop being an idiot, four-eyes."

The nickname slips easily from his lips. It is only after he said it, only after he sees the shaken expression on Hange's face that realizes he hasn't called her that ever since their breakup.

He doesn't acknowledge his mistake. Bringing it up now means opening another can of worms he's not sure he can get through. Having Hange so close to him is already hard enough.

"Why aren't you inside?" he asks, attempting to sound nonchalant and not getting even close to achieving it. "A fience shouldn't skip her own engagement party. Especially when the photo montage is on..."

"Oh please," Hange huffs. "I stared so much at these photos while we selected them, I am getting sick just by looking at them. Besides," she pouts. "Moblit didn't let me share our private photos."

In spite of himself, Levi chuckles. "Are you saying photos like that exist?"

Hange snickers too. "Oh god, of course, they do not. I think Moblit would have a heart attack should I even offer to take a photo like that."

"So you're saying your fiancé is boring?"

Hange scoffs, and elbows him in a side. "I'm saying he's orderly."

"Same thing," Levi shrugs, and Hange laughs.

His treacherous heart skips a beat. Something warm spreads through him, as he listens to Hange's laughter. It grows warmer and spreads further, until it feels like he's enveloped by a sunlight - he's content, relaxed and happy. Hange always had such an effect on him.

She was the only who ever did.

"Thanks for coming," she tells him, after her laughter subdues. "I know it's probably awkward..."

"It's fine," he shakes his head.

"It's good to see you, Levi," a smile plays on her lips, the sweet and soft one that Levi always thought was reserved exclusively for him. He wonders if that is still true.

"It's good to see you too," he murmurs. "I'm glad you're happy, Hange," he adds, looking at her. There is a stray lock of hair right next to her nose, and he gently pushes it away, tucking it behind her ear. "If you need anything, know that I'm here for you. I always will be."

He turns away and leaves after that, before he does something stupid like confess his undying love.

That's probably the last thing Hange wants to hear anyway.

He walks inside the cafe and returns to Petra's side. He looks at her, the words "want to ditch that shitty party?" almost at the tip of his tongue. But then Hange walks back in and their eyes meet across the room. She lifts her lips in a smile and tentatively raises her hand, waving at him. Levi nods, fighting back a smile of his own. His eyes still soften, though.

The hand he had outstretched towards Petra falls limply to his side.

Maybe, she'd help him forget, maybe, she'd ease some - not all, obviously - of his heartache.

But, apparently, he's not a complete asshole, because he can't do it - not to Petra, not to himself.

Not to Hange.

He lifts a glass to his lips and turns his gaze to the small stage. There Moblit is telling some story - either about their first kiss or their first date, Levi doesn't listen to him at all. Instead his eyes are focused on Hange - the faint blush on her cheeks, her glistening eyes, as she keeps laughing, laughing, laughing. Their gazes lock for a second, and her eyes turn just a little bit brighter.

At least one of them is happy. Levi revels in that.

[tomurasprincess]

Deceptive (Shindou Yo x Reader)

Pairing: Shindou Yo x Reader Warnings: noncon, blackmail, stalking, manipulation, overstimulation, yandere Word Count: 2.5k Note: A yandere prompt getting away from me again? Perish the thought! At least I have a good reason for this one though, as it’s Shindou’s birthday. 

~~~~

You really hate Shindou Yo. You had decided this shortly after meeting him, in fact. He is cocky, a flirt who seems to think every woman he meets should throw themselves at his feet in adoration.

Even worse was the utter fakeness about him that you instantly saw through. His nice guy persona was just that, a persona. Something he put on to hide the true man underneath. You resent the fact that you’re the only one who seems to notice it, the only one who is wary around him.

Shindou knows it, too. His eyes turned calculating when you first met him, instantly sensing that you didn’t buy the act he put on. After that, he made it his mission to win you over, one way or the other. He followed you around to force you into talking to him, gave you expensive gifts, asked you out on dates.

But the more you refused him, the harder he pursued you, like a fly that refused to be swatted. You started trying to avoid him completely, but it was hard to avoid someone who works at the same hero agency as you do.

You suspect he was the one responsible for some of your usual patrols getting switched around so that you would be forced to pair up with him. And with him being a higher ranked hero than you are, you had no choice but to go along with it without complaint.

That led to your current situation, hiding out with Shindou in some abandoned warehouse while you wait for a meeting between several troublesome villains.

“We’ve been waiting for so long,” you sigh for what feels like the hundredth time. “I don’t think these villains are going to show.”

“So impatient, sweetheart,” he laughs. “Don’t worry, it will be worth our time.”

“I don’t even know why they have us waiting for these guys.” You roll your eyes. “They’re small fry, not anyone higher level pro heroes like us should be chasing down.”

Shindou smiles as if you just told a good joke. “Oh, that’s because you’re exactly right.”

You glance at him sharply. “What the hell do you mean?”

“You heard me. Those villains are being taken care of by interns in another location.”

Alarm bells begin to ring in your ears. “Then why are we waiting here,” you ask cautiously.

“You’ve been avoiding me the past few weeks.” He grins, and it’s not the fake smile of the cheerful nice guy that the media knows him as. It’s the true smile of Shindou Yo, the darkness peering through that you knew was there. “I don’t like to be ignored.”

“What the hell - you made this up to get me alone?” Your voice rises in anger as you glare at him, but he simply gives you his signature infuriating smirk.

“That is fucked up!” You abruptly stand up and move to leave. “I’m going to report this, and then I’ll never have to deal with you again.” Before you can take two steps away from him, you feel him grab your ankle and activate his quirk.

You let out a choked gasp, your knees buckling and collapsing at the strength of the vibrations coursing through your leg. Before you can hit the ground, Shindou catches you and forces you down face first onto the cold, dirty concrete floor. “Oh, that’s sure as hell not going to happen, sweetheart.”

“Let me go, you piece of shit,” you hiss as you kick your legs out to try and gain leverage. He simply presses himself harder against your back, holding you in place with sheer brute force. He is so much bigger than you are and he has you in an awkward position to fight back. You can’t even hope to use your quirk in this situation, and he must know that.

“You think I don’t notice how much you want me?” He grinds his hips into your ass, and you can already feel the considerable bulge in his hero suit. “You’re just playing hard to get.”

“No I’m not, you fucking creep,” you try to slam your head back into him to loosen his grasp, but he anticipates this and activates his quirk again.

The vibrations course through your whole body this time, causing a scream to rip out of you as you feel weakness overtake your body. You drop limply in his grasp, gasping in exertion.

He gives you a malicious chuckle. “Be a good girl and I’ll make you feel good.” As he says this, his hands run up and down your sides, caressing and stroking your skin through your clothes.  

He knots his fingers into your hair as he pulls your back into an arch so that he can plant hot, open mouthed kisses down your neck. You whimper and try to squirm away, but you only succeed in grinding your ass harder against Shindou’s erection, causing a groan to slip from his mouth.

“Fuck, just keep doing that.” You feel him lift himself off of you just enough to rip your hero suit right down the middle like it was nothing but paper. Before you can even move away, he lifts your hips up to put you fully on your hands and knees, head still pressed against the floor.

He works your clothes all the way off of you before slipping down your panties to expose your heated core. “God, you have such a pretty pussy, sweetheart.” He reaches down to spread your lips open for him. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

You let out an embarrassed whine, your cheeks burning with shame as he looks at your bare pussy. You try to close your legs, only for him to force them back open with a chuckle. “So shy, baby~ You shouldn’t be so shy, you’re my perfect Angel.”

You hear a sudden buzzing behind you, and you try to lift your head up to see what he’s doing, only for him to grab your head and force it back down. “Or you will be once I get done with you,” he snickers darkly.

He strokes a single finger down the length of your folds, gathering your wetness on his finger and using it to stroke tight circles around your clit. “I knew you wanted this. You’re so fucking wet, and I haven’t even started.” He leans down to start kissing and licking down your back, forcing a shudder out of you.

“Please no, I don’t want this,” you whimper, as you try to get him to turn away from the path he’s decided to take. “Just stop and I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

“You sound so fuckin’ cute when you beg,” he chuckled. “Makes me want to hear it more often.”

He activates his quirk with two fingers directly on your clit, and you let out a wanton moan at the feeling that only gets louder as the pulses get more intense. You gasp and try to buck away from the sudden intensity of it, but he refuses to let you move. You’re horrified to feel the pleasure building up inside of you, the realization that you’re going to cum so quickly from his fingers alone.

You struggle with yourself, trying to will yourself not to, but these thoughts fly from your head in favor of pure sensation as he slips two fingers inside of you suddenly. You gasp and tremble as your orgasm crests over you, walls clenching around his fingers.

“Oh, good fucking girl, cum all over my fingers,” he praises you as his fingers curl up against your walls and begin to vibrate against a spot inside of you that you’ve never even touched yourself. When he realizes that he found the right spot, he abuses it relentlessly, pressing his fingers hard against it as his other hand continues to stroke and vibrate against your clit.

You feel yourself rapidly coming undone again, the pressure inside of you building and building while you try and resist the sudden urge to pee. “Stop stop stop, it feels so weird,” you whine as you begin to squirm at the unfamiliar sensation.

“Yeah? Just let it happen, sweetheart,” he coos at you as he scrapes your walls at just the right angle. You squeal as you’re pushed over the edge, cunt clenching down as you feel fluids gushing out of you and onto Shindou’s arm and chest. Your head falls back as you pant and try to catch your breath.

“I - I’ve never,” you begin to say before you trail off mid sentence, unsure how to finish.

“So I was the first to make you squirt, huh?” He gives you a cocky smirk, obviously enjoying the fact that he forced you into it. “Fucking hell, that’s so hot.”

“Please, you’ve had your fun,” you whisper as a tear runs down your face. “Just let me go now.”

“I’ve had my fun?” His face looks incredulous. “I made you cum twice, once so hard that you squirted.  You mean to tell me you don’t think you should take care of me, too?” His voice sounds so reasonable, so genuinely questioning that you almost agree before you come to your senses.

“No! I don’t want this,” you protest loudly, “I don’t want any of this!”

“Well too fucking bad,” he growls. “Maybe you should have thought about that before you were a spoiled fucking princess.”

You hear his clothes rustling as he unzips his pants, and you shiver in a mixture of anticipation and fear. You’re still trembling from the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, feeling wrung out and tired already and he’s not even inside of you.

You feel his cock prod at your entrance, and you shoot a quick glance behind you, this time with him allowing you to. You glance between his legs, and your eyes widen and your cunt clenches at the sight behind you.

Shindou is a big man, and it makes sense that his cock would be equally large. But you were not anticipating just how large. He’s both thick and long, with a prominent vein running all the way down his length that has you licking your lips.

He languidly pumps his cock in his fist as his smirk widens to see you openly staring. He gathers the precum leaking from the tip of his cock and uses it to stroke up and down his length. “Like what you see?”

“N-n no,” you whisper hotly, although your voice trembles at the denial. Despite everything, your skin feels like it’s on fire despite the coldness of the warehouse you’re in and your pussy is throbbing with the need to be filled.

“You’re such a terrible liar,” he laughs as he begins to push inside of you. Your cunt is dripping from your previous orgasms, but it’s still not enough to stop the burn of him stretching you out. Your walls tighten around his cock as it tries to force his cock back out.

You pant and moan as you feel him sliding inside of you inch by inch, the veins on his cock pressing against your slick walls and causing you to go insane with wanting more of him. You let out a loud whine when he finally bottoms out inside of you, barely stopping yourself from grinding back into him.

You don’t think you have ever felt this full, this stretched out. Until he begins to move. Your breathless gasps and moans fill the warehouse, along with the wet sounds of his balls smacking into your clit with every thrust.

“You take my cock so well, sweetheart.” He grabs hold of your hips to pull you back towards him in time with his thrusts, and you just know you’re going to be bruised once he’s done. You barely stop your whimper, and you feel rather than hear the rumble of his laughter.

“Oh, you like it when I praise you, huh?” This time you don’t stop your whimper at his words as you clench down around his length. “Of course you do, you’re such a good girl for me.”

Everything feels so good that your head feels like it’s spinning. You feel waves of pleasure building up to what feels like another powerful orgasm.

“Please, oh fuck,” you hiss under your breath.

“What was that, sweetheart? Speak up, I can’t hear you.” Shindou’s voice comes out cocky, and you know if you could see him he’d be wearing that infuriating smirk.

“Please, I need - “

He reaches around to stroke your clit gently, but not enough to give you any real friction. The need to cum is almost painful now. “Yeah? What do you need?”

You finally throw your shame out the window. “I need to cum! Please let me cum!”

“Say my name, sweetheart, and I’ll let you.”

“Please, Shindou - “

He tsks. “Not that name.” He puts a bit more pressure on your throbbing clit, barely activating his quirk before instantly deactivating it again.  

“Yo, please let me cum!” You let out a choked sob.

The sudden strong pulsing against your clit has you seeing stars, the waves of pleasure finally peaking as you come undone around his cock. Your fluttering walls has him groaning as he finds his own end, hot ropes of cum coating your insides. He stays inside of you until he fully empties himself inside of you before pulling out.

You suddenly hear the click of a shutter, and panic flows through you and turns your veins to ice. You sit up quickly to see him taking pictures of his cum sliding out of your cunt.

“What, I wanted something to remember this by,” he grins, that easy going grin that has everyone fooled. But then that grin turns darker, sharper. “And I also wanted something to keep you in line.”

Your heart drops into your stomach at his words as you realize the implications of what he’s saying.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, sweetheart. You’re going to continue to work with me as my official sidekick. You’re going to do what I say, when I say it, or these pictures are going to end up everywhere.”

You tremble when you think about the damage those pictures could do to your reputation as a hero. You gently nod at his words.

“I want to hear you promise me.”

With tears sliding down your face, you say the damning words. “I promise, Yo.”

“Good, glad you agree! I think this is going to make a wonderful partnership.” He gives you a cheerful smile. “After all, we work so well together, don’t you think?”

~~~~

Tagging: @lady-bakuhoe, @thewheezingwyvern, @animewh0re, @dee-madwriter, @lildreamer93, @katsukisprincess, @yaoyorozuwrites, @redbeanteax, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @mimikarasu, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @mrs-kirishima, @iwvs-on-ao3​

[watevermelon]

Cheater!Akaashi x Reader

✧ Summary: (Continuation) Akaashi is still in love with you and begs for your forgiveness.

➳ A/N: It surprised me how many people wanted a part 2 to Akaashi’s initial cheating imagine, but here we are!!  Ask and you shall receive. People want good things for the reader and I agree -- that’s too bad this is what we got instead LMAO ➳  Masterlist ➳  Part One 

--------xXxXxXxXxXx--------

You could’ve gone the rest of your high school career without ever having to hear the word volleyball ever again. The only interest you had in it was from your ex-boyfriend and now any reminder just left a bitter pang in the pit of your stomach. 

Thankfully, Akaashi was not in your class and there actually were not any volleyball players in your homeroom. But that didn’t stop them from popping up in your peripherals or in some rumours around school. 

Some of the members of the volleyball team would shoot looks at you, whether out of pity or curiosity, you couldn't care less. You fostered your own relationships with the athletes individually - whether it was Haruki’s strange brand of humor, Sarukui’s constant references to memes, or Wataru’s lopsided smiles - you knew them. 

You shared, or rather suffered together, in a class with Konoha the year before. A bright first year with no friends yet, Konoha was a nice person and the first one of the entire volleyball team to actually speak to you. He was even the one to introduce you to both Akaashi and Bokuto.

Out of the bunch, Konoha was often a tag-along when it came to hangouts. Whether it was to the arcade or the movie theatres, you and your (ex)boyfriend were quick to include the others. And usually Bokuto and Konoha would come along as well. Looking back, now you felt like an idiot, Konoha was one thing, but Bokuto was always there.

Nonetheless, as a member of the volleyball team, you knew Konoha was close to Akaashi. And there was no doubt which side he would be taking, no matter the moral high-ground. 

There was too much history there and there would be no attempt on your part to salvage the friendships you had with the volleyball team. 

There was no doubt of the curiosity in everyone’s minds the moment you and Akaashi were broken-up and there was a new person he was holding hands with. It went from general confusion to malicious rumours. Akaashi was the silent boy next door, the person everyone thought to be the perfect boyfriend without a bad bone in his body.

Some said that he broke up with you because you were too mean, too boring, or he simply lost interest in your boring lifestyle.

If only other people knew what he had done to you and Bokuto.

You didn’t believe this was the hill you wanted to die on. And so you ignored the carefully whispers that followed you in the hallways. Your best friends urged you to clear your name - you were the wronged party so why must you be the one to continue suffering? But this was not something you wanted to bring up again, not something you wanted to think about and relive after how painful it was the first time.

But it seemed the volleyball Gods really hated you.

Konoha approached you one day, after class had just ended but before extracurricular clubs were about to start.

“Hi.” He stood beside your locker as you organized your things, “Can we talk?”

You nodded wordlessly, packing up your bookbag and following him out the door. He guided you toward the outside fountain by the athletic building, not many students passing by as they rushed home through the main entrance. A part of you worried that some of the other volleyball members would pass by as you sat there together, but then you realized that it was no longer your problem.

You were seated on the edge, silently watching his pensive expression before he finally turned to you.

“I feel like I owe you an apology.” He started.

“What, why?”

“I could’ve told you a year ago that something strange was happening between Akaashi and Bokuto.”

You felt a lump in your throat, not sure what to say.

He shook his head and turned away, “There was something there even before you two were dating. And so even when Akaashi asked you out, I bet you were surprised?’

You frowned, but agreed quietly with a nod of your head.

“We barely knew each other at the time.”

Konoha scoffed, you were unsure why exactly, but he continued, “Out of curiosity, why did you agree?”

You smiled back wistfully at the memory, remembering how you had excitedly texted your friends on how the Akaashi Keiji had asked you to be his girlfriend.

“It was so simple back then.” You explained, “He was the kind, pretty setter of the nationally-ranked volleyball team. It was shallow, based off of what little I heard about.”

“But you grew to love him.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed, “And look what that brought me.”

“I’m sorry.”

Haruki passed by, texting away on his phone, mind on something else before he spotted the two of you. He waved at Konoha first before his eyes landed on you, widening in obvious surprise before he shot you a genuinely wide smile.

“A lot of them miss you too.” Konoha explained.

“Well sorry, I tend to avoid anything regarding the volleyball team these days.”

“Don’t worry, as much as this sucks, we understand.”  Konoha frowned, clenching one of his hands into a fist in annoyance at the situation.

“But I do miss you guys too.” You added.

Konoha smiled, fondly remembering the last time you had all gone to the arcade, “Who could forget the time you beat Haruki at Dance Dance Revolution?” 

“He certainly did not.” You recalled, “He kept challenging me all the way up to mid-terms.” 

Konoha laughed, no one on the team was able to defeat the libero. And yet here you were, all smiles and confidence radiating off of you, bringing the third year to his knees. It made Konoha wonder if the last year could have been different. 

When Akaashi had approached you, Konoha had dutifully stood to the side. The setter was one of his closest friends and never had he approached anyone in the past. He was often busy with the team or Bokuto. And for Akaashi to have asked you, it meant he was serious. And so Konoha had stood to the side, his crush on you mollified if that meant you’d be happier with the setter your age.

If Konoha had the courage to ask you out instead, would you still be close to the volleyball team? Would you be celebrating an anniversary together rather than crying over some lecherous bastard he called a friend?

You sighed and turned to Konoha, registering his earlier words. “Why are you sorry?”

“What?”

“Why are you sorry about what happened with Akaashi?”

“Ah.” He raked an open palm through his hair. “Maybe I could have stopped you.”

“What?” You asked, a confused smile on your face.

“I introduced the two of you after all.” He explained.

“Shut up.” You said in a teasing tone, “No one could have stopped it. I was just dumb enough to fall for him.”

Konoha shot a small grin back at you, “Yeah, you were.”

Sighing loudly, you made sure you had all your stuff before standing. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah.” Konoha held out a hand for you to shake, “I hope we can still be friends.”

It was odd, to feel the small blossom of something in the pit of your stomach. This was Konoha, your friend of two years at this point. This was nothing more than him trying his best to affirm your friendship, you reminded yourself.

“I hope so too.”

And, to his credit, he really did try. It was simple things - you had each other’s chat ID’s from your shared class together and, every once in a while, he would send you a meme or a small tidbit of information. You still had things in common, subjects ranging from the current shounen anime and TV shows you kept up with.

It was refreshing to talk to him. Your friends had your back, but the school’s curiosity was not easily satisfied with time. People were naturally nosy, eager to know the true reasons behind your failed relationship. Both you and Akaashi had yet to even address it and it only got worse with Bokuto’s increasing PDA.

Thankfully, no one was audacious enough to actually approach you about the situation. No one else was involved in your relationship and they had no right to actually point fingers.

That was until someone had the audacity to come up to you during the free period, most of everyone on campus enjoying their lunches.

You were sitting at your usual table, waiting for your friends to come from their respective classrooms when one of the more annoying third-years came up to you.

You recognized her as president of the Fukurodani Volleyball fanclub, this should be fun.

“I think you should apologize to Akaashi-san.”

You closed your book and looked up. The usual bustle of the lunchroom was dying down, many people silencing as they turned to the interaction. 

“What?”

“For wasting his time - he deserved so much better than you.” She bit out cruelly, the other girls behind her nodding in agreement. “And we all think it’s high time you beg for forgiveness.”

You stood up, pure annoyance rolling off of you. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh? I don’t?” She challenged, “Why would Akaashi date you of all people? And now that the two of you are broken-up he’s been sadder than I’ve ever seen him! This is your fault!”

You slapped your book down and raised your chin, “If that’s what you honestly think then you’re as ignorant as you are a meddling piece of shit.” 

The murmurs that followed were obvious, people listening in to your harsh response.

She raised her hand as if to slap you, obviously offended at being called out to the entire lunchroom. “Why I outta --”

But the offending hand never came.

“Leave her alone.”

You could recognize your ex-boyfriend’s voice anywhere. Turning, you saw Bokuto enter your field of vision and grasp at her wrist in a tight hold, held high above your head. Akaashi was standing on the other side in front of you, an arm-outstretched as if to protect you from the group of girls.

“She didn’t do anything wrong.” Akaashi stated clearly, his gaze was unwavering from the girl, but you were sure that the entire room was now listening in. “It was me.”

She stuttered, attempting to save face, “Akaashi-san, surely that’s not true.”

He turned to her, his blank expression now marginally colder. “You have no idea what you are talking about.”

The mean third-year visibility recoiled, turning to you and apologizing under her breath. Bokuto swung her arm away, his glare enough to scare away the rest of the group, but the room was still obviously silent. Bokuto scanned the rest of the room with his tough stare, many people turning away and vainly attempting to restart their conversations. 

Akaashi turned to you, an unsure expression on his face. There were words on the tip of his tongue, you were sure, since he looked as if there were a thousand things he wanted to say.

“I’m not going to say thanks.” You decided to start for him.

“I know.”

You wanted to turn away from him again, no words left for you to say or even scream at him through your anger. This was more than just some ex, you genuinely loved Akaashi and thought he was going to be your future. And from the way he acted, it seemed like the setter wanted that as well.

“There’s something I want to say.” Akaashi stated before you could flee.

“Maybe not here.” Bokuto tugged at your elbow, motioning to the nearest hallway with his chin. 

You followed Akaashi wordlessly, Bokuto behind you to make sure you didn’t just run away. You sure that there were more than a few dozen pairs of eyes sticking to the backs of your strange trio.

Akaashi led you to a corner, no one to spy on your conversation unless they hung outside the building from the window. He moved to gently grasp your forearms, but you pushed him off before he could get a firm hold on you. 

He frowned, but looked at you intently. “I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” You stated back plainly, “I can’t forgive you.”

Akaashi hesitated, a dejected look on his face. “I know.”

Every bone in your body was screaming at you to walk away, to stop looking at his despondent pout and not fall for his sad look. You remembered the first time you fell in love with his smile - how easy he would flash that beaming expression at you. How Akaashi would tell you how much he loved you and it filled your heart until it overflowed.

And now all of those memories were worth nothing.

Screw being a bigger man, your heart had a thousand things it wanted to say.

“I really loved you, you know.” You pushed at his shoulder, “And now I can’t look at you without feeling like I hate you.”

“I know.”

“I was so in love with you I thought this would be it.” You felt your heart crying, but urged the motion down. “Why kiss me and tell me you love me when you had someone else on your mind the entire time?!”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Akaashi looked just as anguished, trying to reach out to you with shy hands on your shoulders. “Please just listen to me.”

But you shoved him away this time, “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I love you.” 

His blue eyes bore right into your own, determined and sure of his previous statement. Looking over his shoulder, Bokuto was standing to the side, his gaze stuck on you as well. How the hell was this normal?

“What?”

Akaashi paused, hands coming up to hold you but stopping short again when he realized that was the last thing you needed. “I’m in love with both of you.”

You huffed and took a step back, what could you possibly say to that? There was a sudden flurry of emotions just whirring around your mind -  a rush of elation at being loved, immediately squashed down by the annoyed at Akaashi’s selfishness.

You turned to Bokuto, “You believe this?”

The wing-spiker frowned, but affirmed it in a loud voice. “Yes.”

“No.” You started back quickly, shaking your head. “I refuse to be part of this.”

“It’s true.” Akaashi pushed, moving toward you with an ernst expression on.

“I don’t care if it’s true or not.” You moved away again, but this time Akaashi did not let you evade him. Putting firm hands on your shoulders, he pulled you against his chest. “Stop.”

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, but I can’t.” Akaashi continued, “I love you and it hurts me so much that I hurt you in the process.”

You struggled against his hold until he let go. “How could I listen to you be so selfish?” 

“I know.”

“Don’t involve me in this.” You motioned at the both of them in a wide circle. 

“(F/N).” Akaashi stressed, eager to get you to see his side, but you wanted nothing to do with him or Bokuto. He broke your heart enough, there was no way you were willing to entertain him back in your life.

“What don’t you understand about leaving me alone?” You raised your voice, annoyed that Akaashi was asking anything of you after treating you so cruelly.

“Please let me explain.” Akaashi kept repeating.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing that Akaashi could say that would ever make you think about introducing him back into your life. He was terrible for lying to you for months, maybe even as long as a year, but you didn’t want to exactly ask the length of his infidelity. He was a terrible boyfriend and an even worse person - you were ready to raise hands at both boys if they didn’t let you go this instant.

Bokuto blocked your path this time, “(L/N), come on we just -- “

“What’s going on here?” A gentle hand fell on your shoulder, pushing Bokuto aside as a new person entered your conversation.

Konoha stood tall behind you, his sudden appearance quelling your rising anger. If not, you were sure that you were going to throw hands with the volleyball boys. Bokuto would probably fight you off, but slapping Akaashi would feel cathartic in a way.

“Ah, don’t worry about it.” Bokuto tried to wave away the other wing spiker. “We’re just talking.”

“(F/N), please. Let me explain it all to you.” Akaashi stressed, moving a step in your direction, to which Konoha challenged when he tilted his head upward. 

“Right, just talking.” Konoha murmured in disbelief before turning to you. “And how do you feel?”

“I’ve had enough of this conversation.”

Both Akaashi and Bokuto exclaimed your name in contrasting tones, but you hardened your expression before turning away from them. Konoha still had a hand on your shoulder as you walked back to the lunchroom.

Your friends were already at your table, some of them standing around pacing while others were angrily chewing into their food. A chorus of your name followed as the two of you neared the table, some of them getting up from their seats to give you a comforting hug.

“(F/N)!” Your best friend was quick to rush you, crushing you between her arms. “We heard that Akaashi and Bokuto basically ushered you away.”

“The whole lunchroom was basically watching that door.” Another stated, pointing to the one you just came from.

Your best friend put her hands on your shoulder, steading your attention back to her. “Please tell me you remembered that men ain’t shit.”

Konoha laughed as he put a mocking hand of offense over his heart.

“Yeah, yeah.” You assured her, “I’m not about to make the same mistake again.”

“Good.” She confirmed, before turning to Konoha. “Okay, only Konoha has rights.”

“Thanks.” He stated back half-heartedly, guiding you back to your lunch and taking the seat beside you.

“When people told us they took you away, we weren’t sure what to do. Go after you? Call you to give you an out? We didn’t even know how long you had been gone for!” She explained, “Thankfully Konoha here came to the rescue.”

You turned to the wing-spiker, smiling as you did so. “He really did, thank you.”

He reflected a similar expression back at you, holding your gaze before springing away to take out his own lunch out of his bag.

“I take it back, the volleyball team has no rights with the exception of Konoha.” One of your friends joked.

As for you, you could not help but think back to the fond expression Konoha just shot you. It was so quick, and yet so genuine, you felt it pierce your heart so suddenly just to rip away from you when he turned away. But not in a bad way, per se.

If anything, this was a nice feeling, for a lack of a better term, to have again. You were not totally healed, still angry at both Akaashi and Bokuto for being complete fuckheads. But a part of you was still alive, happy to see Konoha as your friend and just maybe… maybe something else.

Akaashi and Bokuto returned back to the lunchroom silently, having left their stuff at their now fully occupied table. Bokuto didn’t bother to even turn in your direction, but Akaashi shot you a devastatingly sad frown as he passed. 

A part of you wanted to comfort it, to leap out at the man who loved you for the past year. But you were thankfully steadied back to reality when Konoha put a gentle hand on your own. Akaashi’s gaze fell to the contact, making him stop entirely in his tracks. It was only when Bokuto grabbed his hand did the setter continue walking, but the shock on his face was palpable.

No matter, Akaashi was the last thing you wanted on your mind right now.

You upturned your hand and squeezed Konoha’s smiling at the third-year before turning back to your lunch.

The situation was far from resolved, you still had another two years at this drama-infested school and Akaashi seemed keen on explaining something to you. You were far from completely healed and it seemed the student body would not let this drama go unnoticed.

But you were getting there.

Little by little, you were re-learning to smile and laugh more. Places on campus were no longer bitter memories, but quiet lessons for you to remember. You had your loving best-friends and suddenly, the kind Konoha, at your side.

You had no worries about the rest of the school year, you would get through this with a head held high.

--------xXxXxXxXxXx--------

A/N: TBH for myself i could see this going both ways; reader saying nah OR reader entering a poly relationship. idk - i’ll write it if someone wants to see that ending but otherwise here we are :):

➳  Masterlist