#i don’t get people who spill someone’s private business to someone else if they fall out or the friendship peters out

[stuckinapril]

I am such a good secret keeper. If you tell me something in my confidence I will take it w me and get buried w it. I do not care if we fall out or become eternal enemies. I do not care if we’re no longer friends. If you share a secret w me it will never see the light of day

[bloody-bee-tea]

Tattoo

Jiang Cheng decides to get his first tattoo the night he resolves to move out.

There has been a huge fight—yet again—where his father was more concerned with talking about Wei Wuxian, who wasn’t even part of this fight, and where his mother listed every single inadequacy Jiang Cheng apparently had.

And it’s enough.

He’s tired of feeling like shit in his own home and he’s tired of being made to feel like shit and he wants a change.

Which is going to start with him getting a tattoo.

His parents hate tattoos—one of the few things they can agree upon—and Jiang Cheng feels a little thrill going down his back just thinking about getting one.

But soon thinking about it turns into actively imagining, then into planning, and all of a sudden he finds himself in front of a tattoo studio.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t go in that first day; he simply can’t bring himself to. But then he spends another evening in the icy company of his parents, who are no longer speaking to him in the misguided attempt to make him apologize and Jiang Cheng decides that this is it.

He’ll get that tattoo and then he’ll get out of here.

Jiang Cheng goes back to the tattoo studio the next day, and this time he also enters. It’s not at all what he expected to look like, but he scolds himself for even thinking that. Clearly his parents and all their prejudices are way too prevalent in his life if he expected dirty corners and suspicious people everywhere.

What he sees are clean counters, tasteful pics of tattoos and not much else.

Until the most beautiful human being Jiang Cheng has ever seen steps out of a room.

“Hi, there,” the man says and Jiang Cheng does not swoon on the spot. “Do you have an appointment?”

Jiang Cheng slightly shakes his head to clear it and then he squares up.

“No, I don’t. I’d like to make one, though.”

“Alright. Sit for a moment,” the man says, pointing at a couch and then vanishing again.

Jiang Cheng does sit down, unbearably nervous now that he made that very first step and he wrings his hands in his lap. He’s so lost in his own head that he doesn’t even notice when the guy comes back.

“First time?” the guy asks as he puts a glass of water down in front of Jiang Cheng, who nods and gratefully takes the glass to take a sip.

“Yeah. That obvious?” he asks with a small smile and the guy shrugs.

“You get an eye for it, after a while. Nie Mingjue,” he then introduces himself and Jiang Cheng puts the glass back down so that he doesn’t notice how much his hands shake.

“Jiang Cheng.”

“Alright, Jiang Cheng, what do you want?” Nie Mingjue asks, a sketchbook making an appearance and Jiang Cheng swallows heavily.

“Just something small,” Jiang Cheng whispers. “Something I can hide away.”

At that Nie Mingjue pauses.

“I don’t make tattoos that have to be hidden away,” he cautiously says, already closing the sketchbook again.

“Yeah, well, I’m not asking for your opinion here,” Jiang Cheng snaps back before he clenches his jaw and scrubs a hand over his face. “I apologize,” he tacks on, much  more quietly, as he gets up. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Wait,” Nie Mingjue says, sighing himself. “That was unprofessional of me. I just think—this is art, you know. Something you chose for yourself, something you should be proud of. That’s just usually how this goes. But if it’s private, then that’s perfectly fine. I didn’t mean to be an ass.”

Jiang Cheng slowly sinks back down into the couch at those words and Nie Mingjue opens his sketchbook again.

“Alright,” he slowly says. “I want three little dog paw prints on my hip.”

He didn’t give this too much thought, honestly, but it feels right. It’s been years since he had to give his dogs away for Wei Wuxian’s sake and while he’s not mad at Wei Wuxian for that, he does resent his parents for it.

They were just puppies. There was a chance for Wei Wuxian to get acquainted with dogs that didn’t mean him harm. They could have given them to someone close by, so that Jiang Cheng could have gone there to see them every now and then.

But they didn’t do any of these things and just took the only friends away from Jiang Cheng he had at that time.

He is still resentful about that.

“Like this?” Nie Mingjue asks and shows him the sketch he quickly did.

It’s really just those three paw prints, nothing fancy about it, and Jiang Cheng thinks it’s perfect.

“Yes,” he breathes out and he can’t wait for them to be on his skin.

“This will be quick and I have time now, if you want,” Nie Mingjue offers him and that makes Jiang Cheng freeze.

He did not expect this to happen so soon, but after a moment he finds that it’s the only thing he wants.

“Yes,” he decisively says and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

Jiang Cheng did not need to know that he has dimples.

“Good,” he nods, before he falls into what Jiang Cheng suspects to be the customary first client talk.

Jiang Cheng does his best to listen and nod at the right moments, but he is distracted by Nie Mingjue and the way he talks and moves and sounds.

In the end Nie Mingjue still seems to be satisfied, because he leads Jiang Cheng towards one of the back rooms where he asks him to take his pants off.

Jiang Cheng freezes again because he did not quite make that connection yet, but of course he’d have to at least take of his pants for this. He sheds them quickly, not looking at Nie Mingjue and reminding himself that he must see this several times a day and that surely Jiang Cheng is nothing special.

He barely realizes that his hands are shaking.

“Are you okay?” Nie Mingjue lowly asks him, clearly picking up on Jiang Cheng’s nerves and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to answer him.

In the end, the truth comes spilling out.

“No,” he admits. “My parents are going to disown me for this, should they ever find out. I mean they are going to disown me either way once I move out, but—yeah,” he finishes awkwardly once he realizes that he’s rambling because Nie Mingjue absolutely did not sign up to hear about Jiang Cheng’s fucked up life.

“Are you safe at home?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng catches him quickly checking him over as if he’s looking for bruises.

“Physically yes,” Jiang Cheng gives back as his eyes start to burn. “Emotionally not so much,” he adds in a whisper, admitting to this for the first time out loud, and he sways into Nie Mingjue when he clasps his shoulder.

“But you’re taking steps,” he says and it’s not a question.

“I’m taking steps,” Jiang Cheng agrees and finally gets on the cot, ready to get this first rebellious step done.

“Good,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly still worried, but also satisfied and when he starts the tattoo gun they don’t talk much more.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is struggling. He feels isolated and lonely and like his parents scathing silence is going to suffocate him one of these days, even after he moved out, and there’s only one thing Jiang Cheng can think of doing.

He finds himself back at Nie Mingjue’s tattoo studio.

“Back so soon,” Nie Mingjue greets him with and Jiang Cheng realizes that it has only been three months since he got the paw prints.

It feels like so much longer, with everything that happened.

“Yeah,” Jiang Cheng awkwardly says and sinks down in the couch again. “I want something bigger.”

“Something you can’t hide,” Nie Mingjue replies, even as he sits down with his sketchbook. “How is that situation going?”

“I moved out. I’m not talking to my parents. But—” he trails off, unsure if he should really just unload all of his bullshit on this stranger.

“But there’s a lot of shit to unlearn and figure out for yourself, especially if this has been going on for a while,” Nie Mingjue says with an understanding nod and when Jiang Cheng stares at him, Nie Mingjue shrugs awkwardly.

“My brother has an interest in psychology and he loves using me as his sounding board. It only got worse when he took up some classes at university.”

“Ah, I see,” Jiang Cheng says and then sighs. “I’m deciding if it’s worth going to see someone,” he then admits lowly and cringes immediately afterwards. “I’m sorry, this is not what I’m here for and it’s absolutely not your job to listen to me.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised how many people see this as a therapy session,” Nie Mingjue gives back, and while Jiang Cheng would usually recoil at that, it doesn’t sound judging.

“But I’m here for this,” Jiang Cheng says and puts a slip of paper on the table.

He’s by no means an artist, but he has always enjoyed doodling and he’s perfectly capable of designing his own tattoo, especially when he gives it more than just a few days thought.

“That is bigger,” Nie Mingjue says with a raised eyebrow as he picks the paper up. “Much more difficult to hide.”

“No more hiding,” Jiang Cheng resolutely says. “I want it to curl around my arm, the head on the back of my hand.”

“Really big then. From shoulder to hand?”

“Yes.”

“Mh,” Nie Mingjue hums as he starts to sketch something.

When he turns the sketchbook to Jiang Cheng it’s still the snake and nothing fundamentally has changed, but it still looks better than the basic design Jiang Cheng came up with.

He itches with the need to get this on his arm.

“Yes,” he breathes out, reaching out to brush his hand over the sketch. “Please.”

“You’ll need an appointment for this one,” Nie Mingjue says as he gets up to schedule Jiang Cheng in.

It takes Nie Mingjue three sessions to get the snake done and Jiang Cheng loves it more than he thought possible.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng takes his time for the third tattoo. He takes his time to get used to living alone, takes his time to figure out if he really wants to go for a business degree and most importantly, he takes his time to get back together with his siblings.

They didn’t quite fall out when Jiang Cheng moved out, but he kept his distance for a while and now he doesn’t.

Now he welcomes them into his home and his new life and he sits Wei Wuxian down to have a real talk; one where he doesn’t allow Wei Wuxian to laugh everything away—either his own pain or Jiang Cheng’s—and afterwards they feel like family again.

Jiang Cheng briefly debates if he wants to do the same with his parents, but he finds that he couldn’t care less.

He can barely think about them without getting angry or nauseous or both and he figures it’s not worth it. Not now and maybe not ever.

So instead of wasting more thoughts on that Jiang Cheng finds himself back at Nie Mingjue’s studio.

“It does get quite addicting, doesn’t it?” Nie Mingjue asks him with a smirk when Jiang Cheng steps inside and Jiang Cheng shrugs.

“Especially when you finally figure your life out for yourself,” he gives back and he has to admit that for the first time he’s not nervous as he sits down on the couch.

He knows what he wants and he knows what to expect.

It leaves him time to appreciate Nie Mingjue, though, and that makes Jiang Cheng’s stomach flutter.

There are tattoos on Nie Mingjue as well; making their way down his arms and one peeking out of the collar of his shirt. Jiang Cheng finds that he wants to see all of them.

“Okay, hit me,” Nie Mingjue says as he sits down as well and Jiang Cheng gives him his sketch.

Three lotus pods for him and his siblings. Jiang Cheng does only have good memories of them picking lotus seeds, and especially of Jiang Yanli’s soup.

“Next you’re going to learn how to tattoo yourself and then I’ll be out of a job,” Nie Mingjue grumbles as he takes the sketch and Jiang Cheng smiles with pride.

He did put an awful lot of work into this.

“I want it on my calf,” he tells Nie Mingjue who nods.

“Easy enough, but you need an appointment.”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng shrugs and his eyes drop to Nie Mingjue’s hands, which are still holding his sketch.

Honestly, Jiang Cheng did not expect his heart to beat faster at that, or the thought that Nie Mingjue will put his hands on Jiang Cheng’s skin soon enough but he’s not going to stop it either.

The pods don’t take much time at all once the appointment comes around, and soon enough Jiang Cheng is stepping out on the street with one tattoo more.

It feels like he’s reclaiming bits and pieces of himself with every tattoo that he gets and he honestly doesn’t want it to stop.

It’s only a little bit because he wants to continue seeing Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

“You’re going to be a regular soon,” Nie Mingjue says with a smile when Jiang Cheng steps into the by now so familiar studio yet again and he frowns, affronted.

“It’s my fourth time. How much more do I have to come by to be considered a regular?”

“Well, the true regulars drop by just to say hello, too,” Nie Mingjue says, clearly trying for nonchalant but Jiang Cheng sees the tension in his shoulders.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, but he still sits down on the couch. “But today I’m here for an appointment.”

“Do I even need to bring my sketchbook?” Nie Mingjue asks, clearly remembering that there was nothing for him to do the last time Jiang Cheng came by but Jiang Cheng nods.

“I just have an idea. I need you to draw it.”

“Oh, alright,” Nie Mingjue says, and is quick to retrieve the book before he sits down. “What do you want?”

“I want water, or waves, under my collarbone,” Jiang Cheng says and points at the spot.

It hasn’t been that long since he started to swim again, but he already knows that it will be a big part of his life from now on.

Jiang Cheng used to love it, until his parents made it into a competition between him and Wei Wuxian and pressured him to do better and better. Jiang Cheng stopped after one too many silver medals and he never picked it up again, too afraid of falling back into old habits, of feeling like shit for doing something just for fun, no matter how much he loved it.

But he picked swimming up again, and it turns out he’s still good and he still loves it. Even more now that he can just do it for fun and challenge himself if he feels like it.

And he wants a tattoo for it as well. It’s another piece of himself he reclaimed after all.

“Like so?” Nie Mingjue asks, showing Jiang Cheng the rough sketch.

It’s a little bit too stylized for Jiang Cheng’s taste and he tells Nie Mingjue so, who turns the page and starts again.

When he shows Jiang Cheng the new sketch, it looks more realistic and it’s exactly what Jiang Cheng wants.

“Yes,” he breathes out and smiles.

That one feels just as right as his other tattoos had.

“Water, huh?” Nie Mingjue asks, quite awkwardly Jiang Cheng thinks but he smiles at Nie Mingjue.

“I recently re-found my love for swimming,” he tells him. “It helps that my parents are not yelling at me to win a gold medal.”

“Did you use to? Win gold medals?”

“No. My brother did though, which both my parents used to rub in, in very different way. I stopped because they made me dread going into the water but now that I’m just doing it for fun,” he awkwardly trails off. “I still love it.”

“That’s good to hear,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng is surprised when Nie Mingjue squeezes his shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but you do look better. Definitely happier than the first time you came in.”

It makes Jiang Cheng flush, because he didn’t know that it had been that bad or that Nie Mingjue had been paying attention to him.

“I am. Better. Still on the way with a lot of things, but definitely better,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he tries very hard not to think about the fact that he still doesn’t know what he wants to do with his future or if he wants to get a dog, despite Wei Wuxian’s fear, or if he’ll ever be man enough to ask Nie Mingjue out on a date.

But slow steps. First he gets this tattoo and then he can think about what comes after.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng never gave much thought to his sexuality beyond the fact that it wouldn’t matter who he brings home; his parents were surely going to hate them, just because it was Jiang Cheng who introduced them.

He had looked at a few boys during school, but his mother had made it very clear that Jiang Cheng was going to get married to a business woman of her choosing, producing heirs for the company as soon as he could, and Jiang Cheng didn’t think much beyond that except ‘Fuck no’.

But now he has time to re-evaluate his sexuality and while he would probably label himself as bisexual at the moment he’s very definitely Nie Mingjue-sexual.

Not that he’s ever going to mention that to the man himself.

He’s standing in front of the tattoo studio yet again, even though he doesn’t have plans for a new tattoo yet. But Nie Mingjue had said regulars came by whenever, and Jiang Cheng wants to have that connection with Nie Mingjue.

He just can’t bring himself to make the first step.

So instead of going in, he walks up and down on the other side of the studio, berating himself that he just can’t bring himself to do it, but just as he is about to turn around and go home, Nie Mingjue steps out and walks straight up to him.

“Nervous?” Nie Mingjue asks with a teasing smile and Jiang Cheng deflates.

“I’m not quite sure how to make friends,” he admits and then wishes the ground would swallow him, because Nie Mingjue never said anything about being friends and it’s not quite what Jiang Cheng wants anyway.

“Usually you start talking to them,” Nie Mingjue says and steers Jiang Cheng towards a coffee shop.

“About what?” Jiang Cheng helplessly asks but he allows Nie Mingjue to lead the way.

“How was your day?” Nie Mingjue starts and Jiang Cheng finds that talking to Nie Mingjue over a cup of coffee is one of the easiest things he has done.

They start to do it weekly.

~*~*~

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue warmly greets him when Jiang Cheng steps into the studio again but he frowns when Jiang Cheng sits down on the couch. “You didn’t say anything about a new tattoo.”

It almost sounds accusing and Jiang Cheng helplessly shrugs.

“I woke up with the burning need to get one, so here I am.”

“Ah, a true addict,” Nie Mingjue says with a shake of his head, but he does get his sketchbook and sits down with him. “What’s it gonna be this time?”

Jiang Cheng takes a moment to gather his thoughts, letting his eyes wander over the tattoos on Nie Mingjue’s arms and he wonders if he can ever bring himself to ask to see them up close. To learn the story behind them.

“I want a lotus flower in the middle of my back,” Jiang Cheng finally says and it’s just because he still has his eyes on Nie Mingjue’s arms that he sees him jerk at his words.

“Between your shoulder blades?” Nie Mingjue asks to clarify and Jiang Cheng nods, finally looking up.

“Yes. And I want it in colour, too.”

It is the family crest and Jiang Cheng was torn about that for a long time, but it’s still his family and it’s still such a big part of himself that he needs to reclaim. Especially since his father does still want him as the head of the company and Jiang Cheng decided to do it.

“Oh, dear gods,” Nie Mingjue mumbles and Jiang Cheng frowns, torn out of his thoughts.

“Something wrong with that?” he wants to know but Nie Mingjue is quick to shake his head.

“No, not at all,” he says, busying himself with his pencil.

They fall into an uneasy silence and Jiang Cheng wonders what he did wrong to make Nie Mingjue respond like this, but before he can come up with a plausible explanation, Nie Mingjue gives him the sketchbook.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng breathes out. “It’s gorgeous.”

He didn’t dare imagine the design too much, because he wanted Nie Mingjue to create it, but Jiang Cheng did not imagine this.

“Yeah?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng frowns when he hears his voice crack.

“Yes! When can we do it?” he asks, suddenly eager to get it done as quickly as possible.

“I have time today, if you’re really sure,” Nie Mingjue gives back and Jiang Cheng practically beams at him, which clearly is answer enough.

“Alright, get ready then,” Nie Mingjue says with a nod of his head towards the same back room they always use and Jiang Cheng eagerly makes his way over there.

He’s just taking off his shirt when he hears Nie Mingjue come back in, mostly because he hears the muttered “Fuck”.

“Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng asks, turning around, his shirt still around his arms. “Is something wrong?”

“Wanyin, you can’t do that to me,” Nie Mingjue breathes out, his eyes trailing over first his tattoos that Nie Mingjue himself put there and then towards his shoulders and back.

“Do what?” Jiang Cheng asks, honestly confused, but there’s something in Nie Mingjue’s gaze that makes him go hot all over.

“You can’t let me mark you up all the time and then not go on a date with me,” Nie Mingjue says, finally meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes and it takes Jiang Cheng a moment to smile at him.

But once he starts, he can’t stop.

“Well, you’d have to ask for me to say yes,” he tells Nie Mingjue, finally taking his shirt off. “Why now, though?”

“Now,” Nie Mingjue huffs out and steps close, dropping a quick kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head, catching him completely off guard with that. “As if I didn’t want to ask you since that first time you came into my studio.”

Jiang Cheng can’t hide his blush, he’s sure of that, but when Nie Mingjue’s gaze goes soft, he finds that he doesn’t mind.

“Okay, but why now?” he asks again, though he couldn’t be happier despite the fact that Nie Mingjue still didn’t ask him out.

“You look happier, more grounded,” Nie Mingjue tells him. “And honestly, I’m only human. There’s only so much self-control I have, especially if you’ll allow me to mark up that masterpiece of a back.”

“I swim a lot,” Jiang Cheng says, smug as anything, because Nie Mingjue looks like he could bench press Jiang Cheng if he really wanted to and to hear that he likes how Jiang Cheng looks, that’s quite the ego boost.

“I see,” Nie Mingjue says, though he sounds strangled. “Go on a date with me, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue then says, and Jiang Cheng likes the fact that it’s not even really a question.

“Weekly dates are not enough for you?” he teases Nie Mingjue, absolutely delighted by how this is going and he enjoys seeing Nie Mingjue flounder for a bit.

“You owe me at least twelve kisses then,” Nie Mingjue finally says, sounding absolutely indignant and Jiang Cheng chuckles.

“You only want one kiss per date? That’s quite disappointing, really,” Jiang Cheng says with a smile and Nie Mingjue rolls his eyes.

“We’re working our way up, once it’s officially a date and not just coffee. But you can owe me all the kisses you want.”

“I think I like that,” Jiang Cheng happily says and leans in to get started on repaying his debt right that instant.

It leaves Jiang Cheng breathless when they part and he’s strangely relieved to see that Nie Mingjue is not doing that much better himself.

“Your hand will be steady enough for this, right?” Jiang Cheng can’t help but to ask, because he wants that tattoo now and he would be disappointed if Nie Mingjue said no.

“I’m a professional,” Nie Mingjue huffs out, even as he gently cups Jiang Cheng’s cheek in his hand. “I managed to keep a steady hand all the other times, too, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” Jiang Cheng gives back and nuzzles into the hand.

They lose themselves a little bit in each other for a while, but eventually Nie Mingjue does get to prove that he has a steady hand, despite the circumstances.

Once the lotus flower on Jiang Cheng’s back is done, they go on their first official dinner date.

~*~*~

On their one year anniversary, Jiang Cheng gets Nie Mingjue to tattoo a green band around his right arm and Nie Mingjue manages to make it look like it’s shining from the inside.

Jiang Cheng catches Nie Mingjue wiping away a tear once he’s done and he would tease him for it, but since Jiang Cheng cried when Nie Mingjue revealed that the frog over his heart was for Jiang Cheng, he fears he has no leg to stand on.

Paw Prints Snake, expect imagine this spanning down the whole arm Lotus Pods Water, under Jiang Cheng's collarbone Lotus Flower, except it's in the middle of Jiang Cheng's back Green Band, there's no real pic for this, but imagine this ring as a tattoo around Jiang Cheng's forearm, because Mingjue's name is made up out of the characters for 'bright, shining' and 'jade ring' if google didn't lie to me

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[johnsamericano]

Can do a fic about dilf doyoung is your Father's friend but u have a secret relationship with him them one day he got you preggo so u moved in with him plsssss also put a lot of smut shshshhshsh pls I hope you read this.

Hi there! My requests are currently closed but I can never resist writing dilf!Doyoung so you’re lucky. There's not THAT much smut in this because I wanted to make it as realistic as possible. Hope you like it!

warnings: dirty talking, sex, language, use of the name daddy, spanking, unexpected pregnancy, age gap.

“What’s the meaning of this invitation, Mr. Kim?” You inquired, walking past the front door with a gym bag hanging from your shoulder. “It's not every day you invite me to a private swimming party.”

“Very funny.” He welcomed you with a hug, his warm, naked chest pressed against your covered one. “Jeno’s out with his friends. He won't come back until tomorrow.”

“Aw, but where's the fun in that? I wanted to be with him.” That response earned you a slap in the ass, hard enough to serve as a warning not to keep testing his patience.

“Get changed. I'll wait for you in the hot tub.”

You locked yourself in the nearest bathroom, quickly yanking off your clothes to replace them with a baby blue bikini. You knew how much he loved the matching set, not as much as taking it off you, of course.

Wanting to make him wait for a while longer, you neatly folded your clothes and placed them over your sleeping wear inside the bag you'd brought with you.

“Took you long enough.” He was sitting inside the water, his arms spread wide as he gave you a less than amused look. “Come here.”

Despite how dominant he might look on the outside, he never managed to fool you. As soon as you were between his arms, your face was guaranteed to be covered with kisses from his soft lips.

“I missed you this past few weeks.” His wet thumb traced figures over your arm, avoiding looking into your eyes. “Why haven't you visited?”

Your fingers played with the small, grey hairs covering the nape of his neck.

“It's getting harder to hide it from Jeno, and I know if he ever found out, our friendship would be over. I don't wanna lose him.”

“He’ll find out, better sooner than later.” The look on your face must've given away your thoughts. “What? Did you think this was just something casual?”

“I mean...” His jaw dropped, arms falling into the water with a splash. “Look, you have to understand me. We started right after your wife left, I thought you were using me to forget her. And I didn't mind-”

“Using you?” Just a few millimeters and his eyebrows would be touching. “Have you always thought so low of me?”

“Doyoung...”

“I want a future with you, y/n. Not just an occasional fuck but an actual relationship, and if you don't feel the same about me, then we might as well end things here.” This was the first time you'd seen him mad, with his whole face red from anger and the warmth of the jacuzzi, he looked as if he were about to explode.

“Of course I do. But it's complicated.” The red shade tinting his cheeks and ears, slowly faded. “No one would accept our relationship, for starters.”

“I couldn't care less about other’s opinions.”

In less than a second, his lips crashed against yours, hard. But there was a hint of sweetness in his wild movements, the way his hands caressed your back while his tongue worked its way inside your mouth aggressively.

“Already so eager?” He asked as your heat rubbed itself against his clothed cock. “Not here.”

“What...?”

The muscles in his legs tensed as he stood up with you still between his arms. He was strong, for a man of his age, of course.

“I’m afraid that I've been fucking you the wrong way, which might have been the reason for you to have the wrong idea about us.” Leaving a trail of water drops behind you, you climbed up the stairs leading to the second floor, where his room was located. “Scratch that. No more fucking, from now on, I'm gonna make love to you.”

“Have you always been this cheesy?” Your feet touched the floor as he removed his hands from below your thighs, slightly pushing you until the back of your knees touched the mattress.

“Don’t make me change my mind and spank that pretty ass.”

“Rude.” You let yourself fall on the fresh comforter, dragging him down with you.

“Take your clothes off for me, won't you?” He busied himself pulling down his swimming trunks while you struggled with the knot keeping your bra in place. “Such a silly, little girl. Can't do anything without her daddy, can her?”

“Please.” Even though you hated being humiliated, your core didn't seem to bother. His degrading words only caused your essence to form an even larger patch on your bikini. “Doyoung...”

“Fine.” His cock was standing proudly, his tip dripping with small beads of precum. “On your knees and turn around.”

He worked through the knots as fast as his trembling fingers allowed him to. His mouth was aching to say the special words he'd been keeping to himself for a while now, but he didn't have enough courage yet.

“Ready.” The straps fell down your arms, tickling the skin as they slid.

You took the last piece of your suit off, finally allowing your body to be consumed by the humidity of the summer evening. Doyoung was quicker to enter you than usual. No teasing, just lovemaking as he’d promised earlier.

“You’re so warm.” His lips were attached to your collarbone, sucking to leave a mark big enough for everyone to see. “Your little cunt takes me so well. No one else could make me feel as good as you do.”

With his hips pistoning your hole, your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, dancing over the tender skin. The way you were looking at each other, so intimate and full of affection, had the words he'd been wanting to say rushing out of his lips.

“I love you.” His movements faltered as if waiting for you to give him any type of answer.

“What’s with that scared face?” You giggled, every inch of your skin flushed with embarrassment and desire. “I love you too.” He loved how young you made him feel, like a silly teenager confessing to his crush only to find out his feelings were reciprocated.

His thrusts resumed, this time slower, deeper, making sure you felt every single ridge and vein of his cock. His length caressed your walls oh so deliciously, bringing you closer and closer to your high. Until someone had to ruin it.

“Dad, where are you?” In a rush, Doyoung pulled out, not even noticing how his seed spilled out of your hole. Fear had taken over the pleasure.

“Get in the bathroom, he probably just forgot something. Don't worry.”

As he'd said, Jeno was quick to leave. Not even ten minutes later, Doyoung was back in his room, announcing Jeno’s little getaway got extended.

“So that means, you can stay for a while longer. Only if you want of course.” The bathtub was filling with warm water and bubbles he'd added. “Or we can go on our own trip, whatever you want.” You felt at ease between his arms, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

Who would've thought you'd be losing your mind a few weeks later because of the same man that had given you so much peace before.

“How could you forget to wear protection?!”

“Don't treat me as if I were the only one responsible for this situation.” You hid your face between the warmth of your palms, supporting the side of your head against the window. “Look at me, baby.”

You shook your head, tears starting to slip between your fingers.

“I’m here for you, darling. Whatever you want to do, I'll fully support you.” His thumb traced the shape of the shell of your ear.

“I don't know what I want to do.”

“We still have time to help you figure things out, okay?” There was a certain sadness to his tone, almost as if his hopes were vanishing.

He didn't want to get rid of it, but being pregnant was a burden that you'd have to carry alone as much as he tried to help. It was your choice and only yours.

“I want to have it, but I don't even have a job or economical support. My parents would kill me if they found out. And Jeno, oh boy, he'd have a heart attack.”

“You have me, y/n. And even though I can't do anything about other people's reactions, I'll always be by your side.”

Doyoung wasn't lying. He walked you through every step, even assumed part of the responsibility when talking to your parents, who didn't react as badly as you'd foreseen.

“Just make sure you're making the right choice.” They'd said.

Jeno was the last person to find out.

“Oh, hey y/n. Were you waiting for me?” He dropped the sports bag right in front of de door.

“We have to tell you something.”

“We?” The look on his face was almost comical as if life had been sucked out of his handsome features.

“Yes, we.” Doyoung laced his fingers with yours, tightly locking your hands together.

His father explained the situation calmly, making sure to use the right words to avoid scaring him away. By the time he was done, Jeno was just staring at you with an emotionless face.

“Jeno?” Your heart dropped at the thought of losing your friend. “Say something, please.”

“You want me to say something?”

There was a small, dramatic pause to add some tension to his words. But the mood lightened as soon as his eyes became crescent moons.

“Bold of you to assume I wasn't aware of your little relationship.” He giggled. “It's okay, guys. You're both adults and I trust you know what you're doing.”

“What the hell is going on?” Your thoughts slipped out of your mouth.

“Thank you, Jeno.” Doyoung mouthed, squeezing your shoulder.

“Man, I always wanted a little brother.” He walked up to you, wrapping his arms around you and his father's neck.

“I rather have a girl this time.”

“Should I call you mom?” Jeno teasingly asked, poking the back of your head.

“Try me.”

(...)

As you folded your clothes and placed them in your new closet, the sun started setting. The light sound of sizzling could be heard from the room, probably Doyoung cooking dinner.

“Y/n!” He shouted from downstairs. “Come help me set the table.”

“Coming!” You set aside the remaining boxes. There were not many clothes left to unpack, so you could finish after eating.

You tiptoed on your way downstairs, accomplishing to scare him with a surprise back hug.

“Stop, you could've burnt yourself.” He scolded, undoing your hug only to quickly pull you by his side moments later.

“Is it me or are you getting a little too overprotective?”

“Am not!” His eyebrows quivered like they did every time he lied.

“Really? Then why haven't we had sex ever since you found out I was pregnant?” Your hand teasingly traced figures on his lower abdomen, a little too close to the stove he was using.

“You’re gonna get burnt.” Once again, he tried to push you away, but your hand remained in the same position. “Baby...”

“Uh-uh, you're not gonna sweet-talk your way out. Why won't you touch me anymore? Have I lost my charm or something?”

“What? No!” He turned off the stove, completely turning to his side to face you. “I just don't wanna hurt the baby.”

“Bullshit. You know it's still safe to do it, you already had one son, for god's sake.” Your arms were crossed over your slightly swollen mounds. “I want the truth.”

“I’m telling you the truth...” There was no nervous quiver from his eyebrows, but his tone was less than convincing.

“The whole truth, Doyoung.”

There was no way out, he had to tell you what he'd been trying to hurry at the back of his head for weeks now.

“I can't stop thinking that the only reason we became official is because of this baby, and I'm afraid if you lose it, I'll lose you as well.” It seemed as if your roles had reversed, as if he was the youngest, the most immature.

“Idiot.” You flicked his forehead with anger, later pulling him into a bear hug. “Get those stupid ideas out of your little head or I'll have to slap them out of you.”

“Rude much.”

“I told you once before we found out about the baby...” Your lips were achingly close to his, ready to kiss those soft, pink pillows. “I love you.”

Your eyes were stuck on his lips, too busy to notice how his eyes started sparkling, the edge of them trying to contain his tears. After a while, you looked up, his nostalgic expression puzzling you.

“I’m sorry, it's the hormones.” He sniffled.

“That's not how pregnancy works, honey.”

[jann-the-bean]

Fluffynightkiller

Day 1: There’s a first time for everything

•

•

•

“Hi welcome to-“ The barista gaped as a violet eyed skeleton entered his coffee shop. He was entranced by how elegant the skeleton maneuvered himself inside the shop. There was something familiar about this violet skeleton, but the barista couldn’t quite place his finger on it.

The other’s posture was tall, straight, and proud. Not a single limb out of place, no wasted energy in unnecessary actions. His eyes slightly narrowed, refusing to make eye contact with others. At first glance many may view him as arrogant, but not to Ccino. He noticed the slight clenching of his fist and his once graceful strides became rigid with every step he took. As if expecting someone to lash out and attack.

The proud skeleton sat at a table distanced from the rest. From his mannerisms it was obvious he disliked socializing with others. Even when sitting he didn’t slouch, his back remained upright, and his hands delicately placed on the table. How peculiar.. Ccino only ever recalled seeing just one other being who sat in a similar position. It was-

*Ding*

Ccino was pulled from his thoughts upon hearing the door open once more. This time a skeleton with no eyelights appeared. He wore a blue fluffed hoodie, with a strange black stain, and white shorts with a black strips on the sides. One of his sockets was half closed while the other fully open. He had a smile on his face which grew to a smirk upon laying eyes on the violet eyed skeleton. But his most notable feature was a bright red soul that was displayed for the world to see. Ccino hadn’t realized he was staring, he only noticed when the other raised a brow in amusement. He placed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie before making his way to Ccino’s direction. The barista gulped, unsure if he’d somehow offended the eyeless skeleton.

“Heya sweetheart, mind preparing us a couple of drinks?” The eyeless skeleton smiled as he placed his elbow on the table while resting his head in his hand.

“O-of course! What w-would you like?” The other responded trying his hardest to stay calm. His soul pounding violently against his chest as his nerves threatened to overtake him.

“I’d like an mochaccino with an extra shot of espresso” he turned to face the violet skeleton. “What do you want, boss?”

“Just get me a black coffee.” Ccino tensed for a brief second. That voice... it sounded way to familiar. As quick as the thought entered his head, Ccino was just as quick to dismiss it. He was working, he didn’t have time to think about non-work related things right now. However, the violet skeleton made eye contact with Ccino. In that brief moment, his stern features wavered for a fragment of a second, that the barista questioned if he imagined it.

The skeleton on the countertop chuckled and turned to face Ccino once more. “Alright, there you have it. One mochaccino with an extra shot of expresso and one black coffee.” The barista nodded and rang up his total. Ccino had told the skeleton he was more than welcome to sit and wait, but the other refused stating that “The view is better from here.” A wave of heat rose to his cheeks. He couldn’t tell if this skeleton was flirting with him, but it sure felt like it. The problem is... he was quite attractive... and charming too. Curse his amorous heart and falling for those who would never return his feelings. Especially for a certain black goopy skeleton.

At some point when Ccino was preparing the drinks the eyeless skeleton had to step out for a minute. The barista had forgotten to ask for a name to call out once the order was ready. He opted to just take the drinks to the violet skeleton’s table. It would probably be better than yelling across the shop trying to get his attention.

“Uhm... I’m sorry. I forgot to ask for a name, but here are your drinks.” Ccino gently set the drinks on the table and carefully ensured not to spill the hot beverages. “C-careful.. it’s really hot.”

Being in such close proximity Ccino noticed a few things he hadn’t before. It appeared that this violet eyed skeleton only had a single functioning eyelight. The other socket was a pitch black, with various cracks surrounding it. Actually, his hands and several visible bones appeared to be fractured. What could’ve happened to such a beautiful skeleton to have so many injuries throughout his body? It wasn’t a question he dared ask. It had to be something personal, and frankly none of Ccino’s business or concern. The violet skeleton nodded to Ccino’s warning but didn’t say a word.

The day passed like any other. Uneventful, and yet again the goopy skeleton had failed to visit. How long had it been since their last reunion? Months? Perhaps even years by now? He knew that Nightmare had used him. He was evil, a manipulator, ruthless, and unforgiving. But, he wasn’t a liar. From their very first encounter he was honest about the basis of their relationship. Ccino was good source to replenish his negativity, and in turn he wouldn’t harm him or his au. At least not in any physical way. The barista new he was being used, knew that the other didn’t see him as anything else but as a charging port. And yet, his silly little heart grew fond of the other’s presence. Perhaps it was because Nightmare was the first person he spent continuous time with. He became illusioned that for as long as he was alive he would have a companion of sorts.

Yet, one day he stopped showing. Sure Nightmare had the tendency to go weeks or months without visiting. However, this time it had been longer than usual. Ccino waited and waited until he slowly began losing hope. Perhaps, the other found a more suitable companion? Maybe realized the Ccino wasn’t worth being around? Decided it was no longer worth his effort to visit his pathetic AU just to see him? Tears burned the lining of his sockets. He shook his head and wiped his eyes. No, now isn’t the time for this. He still had to close up his shop- Ccino paused. Wait, those two why are they still here? He was referring to the eyeless and violet skeleton of course.

Strange, well they were newcomers and most likely didn’t know the shop hours. The barista removed his apron and gently placed it on the countertop, before making his way towards the two strange skeletons. “E-Excuse me.. I’m so glad you decided to support my shop today. But, uhm, it’s time for me to close for the day. You’re more than welcome to come back again tomorrow. I-If you’d like to of course.”

The two didn’t answer. It appeared as if they were contemplating what their response should be. A sinking feeling began to form in Ccino’s non-existent stomach. Were they going to rob him? He didn’t have much to offer just the money in the register! He could defend himself if needed but- he was outnumbered. Maybe he could manage to escape and call for help-

“Actually, we were hoping to talk to you in private.” The eyeless skeleton stated, his soul wavering for a brief second before shifting to an upside down heart. It was so beautiful and captivating. That Ccino had to resist the urge to be lost in its marvelous glow.

“P-pardon? You w-want to talk to me? About what exactly?” The barista was rather confused. He’d never seen these two in his entire life! How did they know about him? Were they maybe some of those ‘special’ people that Nightmare talked about? How they could travel to different universes? But what would they want with him?

“Well, being honest he,” the eyeless skeleton pointed to his companion. “Was hoping to have a conversation with you.”

The skeleton in mention tensed and averted his gaze from Ccino’s. It was clearer now that he was up close. The violet skeleton exhibited signs of slight anguish and remorse in his delicate facial features. But they were quickly concealed once again. No sign of pain, guilt, anxiety, or any other emotion were visible in the single eyelight.

The violet skeleton sighed before returning Ccino’s gaze. “Ccino.. it’s been a while hasn’t it? How have you been these past months.. perhaps even a year or years now? Hard to keep track of time in the void” The barista froze upon hearing his name slip past the violet skeletons mouth. How did he know his name? Did he introduce himself earlier? No, he didn’t think so... maybe his apron? No. He took that off. Then.... how? “You appear to be surprised. Well.. that is to be expected I suppose. How would you ever recognize me without my black attire.”

Ccino drew in a quick breathe. His body already having processed who exactly this skeleton was. Hot tears filled the lining of his sockets and spilled down his cheeks. His body trembled as his mind finally realized his identity. “N-Nightmare...?”

Nightmare tilted his head in acknowledgement. Smiling as if he were praising Ccino. “I’m impressed.. but you were always smarter than you looked.” A pause. Nightmare once again averted his eyes, a flicker of doubt flashed in that violet orb of his. “I didn’t come here to waste your time. So I’ll cut to the chase. As you can see, many things have changed since we last met. Clearly I’ve changed... and more than physically.... But.... I’ve done terrible- unforgivable things and I’m not some naive fool expecting mercy or to be saved. Yet, I do believe that you.. at the very least deserve an apology.”

Nightmare rose from his chair his eye never breaking contact with Ccino’s. “I sincerely apologize for my actions, and for using you to my own benefit. As I said, I’m not looking for forgiveness. I’m far beyond that. Don’t worry, you’ll never see my face again and you may live your life as you please. You are no longer shackled to me... you are free.... and this is my final goodbye.” The violet skeleton turned to face his partner. “Let’s go, Killer. We have overstayed our visit.”

Ccino couldn’t believe what he just heard. Was nightmare apologizing to him? Did that actually just happen? The once feared and powerful being in the multiverse had just apologized to him. I guess there really was a first time for everything. He blinked a few times resulting in fresh tears to stream down his face. Wait.. goodbye? Did that mean.. as in forever? No... No! No! No! No, he couldnt! He just got back! He just came back and now he’s leaving again? Now that was just cruel... how cruel and yet Ccino still couldn’t bring himself to hate Nightmare. His presence only succeeded in confirming what Ccino already knew. That he was in love with Nightmare.

Killer jumped to his feet and placed his hands in his hoodie. “Awe, you sure you want to leave so soon, boss? I don’t know, I’m sure there’s plenty to do here. Besides, how could you leave that cutie behind-“

“NIGHTMARE!” Ccino called out his voice cracking from the his sobs he continuously failed to hold back. Nightmare turned around to face the skeleton when- SLAP! The noise of Ccino’s hand making contact with Nightmare’s cheek echoed in the near empty shop. Nightmare and Killer were frozen on the spot. Killer wasn’t sure how to react. He was caught off guard and didn’t see it coming. He was half expecting Nightmare to crumble on the spot from his various fractures.

“T-that’s for everything that you’ve done to me! For using me! For leaving! For having the nerve t-to come back, apologize, and only to leave again! Y-you just want me to pretend like none of this ever happened don’t you!? To forget about you!!! Well guess what!? Screw you!” Ccino furiously rubbed his eyes trying wipe the tears away but to no avail. All his bottled emotions had erupted to the surface and there was no way to seal them away again. “How dare you?! Who d-do you think you are?! To just waltz in and out like you please!”

Nightmare turned to face the crying skeleton. He was more than confused. He was certain that Ccino would have been delighted to know he had been liberated from the chains of negativity. Free from him. He hurt him so many times, used him for his own personal gain, and never cared for his well being. So, why was he so upset now that he offered him freedom? He opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted when the small barista wrapped his arms around the violet skeleton.

“P-please... please stay! Please don’t leave me!” Ccino wailed as he clung to the skeleton before him. He dug his phalanges into Nightmare’s top refusing to let go, because if he didn’t hold on tight.... surely he’d disappear again. “I-I don’t want you to go! I don’t want to forget! Please! Please! Please! I’m begging.... Don’t a-abandon me.... n-not again.....” The white eyed skeleton trembled as he pleaded for Nightmare to stay. He knew it was hopeless he was begging for the impossible. All his cries and efforts for him to stay would be in vain. But, what else could he do? He had to try because maybe, just maybe the outcome may be different.

Nightmare was frozen, hands stuck in midair as he heard Ccino’s heartbroken cries. Ccino didn’t want him to leave...? Why? Why would he want him to stay? The very being that tormented him for his own amusement? Nightmare was at a loss. What should he do? Ignore the crying skeleton and leave once more? Or should he stay? Either way he wouldn’t be able to permanently stay in this AU. He’s made many enemies who would stop at nothing, until they saw him and those around him perish. He knew this, yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave right now. How could he just leave this fragile skeleton? Ccino always made things more difficult then they should be. It would’ve so much easier if he resented him and despised him. He should’ve screamed for him to leave- to never come back. But no, he was begging him to stay.

Something warm and wet trickled down Nightmare’s cheek. Panic settled in for a brief moment. Was he bleeding? How? He didn’t have any injuries! He quickly touched the liquid with his phalanges and was confused to see a clear substance with a tint of violet. It wasn’t marrow/ blood. Then he realized the liquid came from his sockets... was he crying? His eyes widen slightly. He was. Post his corruption he hardly ever shed any tears. Just once with his twin brother when that forsaken curse had finally been broken. The emotions he thought he’d locked deep in his mind had resurfaced with immense intensity.

Nightmare’s body moved on its own accord enveloping the weeping skeleton into his arms. He gripped his sweater tightly trying to ground himself, fearing he’d lose himself in his own overwhelming emotions. The two skeletons wept in silence as the eyeless one watched with a solemn expression. His soul flickered and wavered as he attempted to suppress his feelings. It was painful. Watching the one he cared for hurt, knowing he wasn’t the cause but another, and seeing for the first time another skeleton suffer because of their feelings for the violet skeleton. It was.. heart wrenching.

The two skeletons cried for hours until they could no longer produce tears. The smallest skeleton ridden with exhaustion lost that battle against his heavy eyelids. He rested his head against Nightmare’s shoulders, feeling a sense a protection and safety in his firm arms. “Don’t.... go.....” the barista pleaded one last time before succumbing to fatigue and drifting to sleep.

Nightmare held the small skeleton firmly in his arms. He glanced at Killer, who had faint black tear streaks on his cheeks. Then back to Ccino who, still in his sleep, clung to him desperately. For the first time, he was at a loss on what his next course of action should be.

Wooooo! What a way to start fluffynight killer week don’t you think? I know it ends on an angsty note but I thought it was fitting! This has actually been one of my few favorite stories to write! Hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!

This story was inspired by some incredible headcanons and by Zu’s comic lodestar! Wouldn’t have been inspired to write this story if it weren’t for them <3

Killer belongs to @rahafwabas/ @rahofy-sketch

Nightmare belongs to @jokublog

Ccino belongs to @black-nyanko

Fluffynightkiller week by @help-im-a-gay-fish

[softboywriting]

Little Moments | Billy Russo

Summary: Tension in familiarity leads to confessions after a terrifying event. [Billy Russo x Reader] [Violence] [Blood] [Gunshots] [Assistant!Reader] [Alternate Timeline - Castle family not mentioned/never happened] [Fluff] 

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: This is my first Billy Russo fic, we’ll see where this goes yeah?

Just over a year ago you took a position as an assistant with Anvil. The job wasn't too bad, basically you took care of paying the bills for the facility, keeping inventory of supplies and equipment, scheduling appointments and keeping track of who was deployed where and why while keeping tabs on them and their duties while on deployment from Anvil. You had done work like this before, managing in a grocery store in your early twenties. It wasn't all that different, just instead of managing products you managed people. No the job was not difficult but your boss. Well. He was something else. 

William "Billy" Russo was a force to be reckoned with. Intelligent, handsome, cunning. His smile could kill. His eyes...they were something all their own. To say Billy was attractive was an understatement. But attraction was only part of the problem. The other part is his sharp tongue, quick wit and dry sarcasm. A year of sharing an office with him had put you on edge. You never know what he would do next, what he would say next. Some days you wish you could fuck him right there in that expensive leather rolling chair behind his desk. Other's you want to rip his leg off and shove it where the sun doesn't shine. The two of you got close, going back and forth with playful banter almost daily. It's like you’re always on the edge of being something more, if one of you would just make the first move.

Things finally come to a head one day when you've got a particularly large workload on your plate and Billy has decided to go on one of his little rants about who knows what, you tune him out. He is always coming into the office and talking to himself. Maybe he is talking to you, but you rarely participate in the conversation. At first you thought he was on a call, using a headset or something, but no. He just talks, and he talks a lot.

"Can you shut up for five fucking minutes?" You snap, head pounding from eye strain. You've been at the computer for six hours now, and you're trying to transcribe a call from one of his units over in Turkey about a job. Billy's mindless chatter has gotten on your last nerve today. 

Billy stops, falling silent somewhere near his desk. The room becomes thick, heavy with tension as you both remain silent. You've never snapped at him, not seriously. You've told him to go fuck himself but in a playful way. This was too real. Too loaded. He's your boss. Fuck.

You're not one to apologize when you're not actually sorry though. You remain silent, knowing he expects you to say something. He wants you to take back your words but you won't. 

"How much work do you have left?" 

Your eyes flick from the screen to him. He looks flushed. Angry? No. His eyes hold no malice. He looks aroused. No way. A cold sweat runs down your back. He must be livid. "I'm transcribing a call right now then I have to make copies of some invoices, order new foam guards for the weight benches and-"

"Finish the call. Then go home."

"Yes, sir."

Billy pushes off his desk and exits the room, leaving the door open behind him. You know that he isn't happy with your little outburst. You just don't know why he won't say as much. He looks turned on if you didn't know better. Or do you? 

The rest of the call goes smoothly now you don't have to pause every few seconds to rewind and listen to it to make out exactly what the unit leader was saying over Billy's chatter. You wrap up and head out as you were told. On the way out you pass Billy with a few of his higher up employees.

"Good night, Mr. Russo." You say softly with a hand raised in a wave. You always call him by his last name around other people. It's not much of a gesture but you want to keep things calm and civil. He nods, face unreadable, and gives a little raise of his hand as well. More than you expected, and it puts you at ease that you might keep your job. 

_____________________

"I'll have my assistant arrange the payment from you after the contract is finalized." 

You stop by the door to the meeting room to listen in. The men in the room with Billy are potential clients, men who want private security for multiple locations. You had greeted them when they arrived and showed them to the meeting room. They rubbed you the wrong way. You met a lot of men and women in your year at Anvil, a lot of different people from different walks of life. None of them made you as uncomfortable as these men had. You step away from the door and go to the office. If Billy wants to get in bed with them then let him. That's not your call.

"Let me grab the paperwork from my assistant." You hear through the closed door and Billy steps in, closing it behind him. "Can you give me a new client contract?" 

"Sure." You pull open the file drawer on your right and thumb through the papers. "They must be very promising work."

Billy leans on the side of the desk, quirking an eyebrow up at you. "What's got you so mouthy lately?" 

You cut him a glare and he chuckles. 

"You don't like them?"

"I'm not fond." 

"Why?" 

"They feel wrong." You extract a thick booklet of paper and hand it to Billy. "But let's not pretend you care what I think, Mr. Russo."

Billy rolls his eyes at the formalities. "You know damn well I value your input just like I do from any other person who works for me. Talk to me."

You sit up and lean back in your chair, eyes on his, your heart pounding. He's looking at you so attentively it's hard to focus. Those eyes, so soft and warm staring back at you. Fuck. He could make you spill the truth about everything without trying. "They give me a bad feeling. The second I greeted them they just...felt bad? I can't explain it."

"We work with a lot of morally gray people in our line of business, sweetheart." Billy leans back, hands spreading out on the desk. His hands, fuck they're nice. "But I will never ignore a gut instinct."

"So you won't sign the contract with them?" 

"I'll do some more investigation before I do. Talk to a few friends in high places."

You nod and slide forward to sit at the computer, closer to him. What a mistake. You can smell his cologne, his heat is pouring into your knee beside his. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes forward on the computer. He reaches over and lays a hand on your shoulder, making your body flush with heat. Why did he have to touch you? 

"Yes?" You ask, sparing a quick glance up at him. Mistake. He's staring down at you with those beautiful obsidian eyes. God they're so big and he's such a-

"Thank you."

"For what?" 

"For telling me. You've never come to me like this before about a client. I like it."

"Oh. Well it's your business so-" 

Billy leans in close to your ear and you feel that cold sweat return from when you told him to shut up. This time it's not fear or panic, it's arousal? The closeness is getting to you, your head is swimming. "You're just as important to me as this company. Remember that." 

You nod.

"Couldn't hear you."

"Y-yeah. Yes. I will."

He pushes off the desk and slides the papers he had been leaning against closer to you before he picks up the contract and smacks it against his hand a few times. "Will you set up a meeting with the Rodgers Estate for later?"

You grab a pen and scribble it in your planner. "Got it Mr. Russo."

"One more thing." He says and you look up. His hand is on the door handle. "Have a drink and relax? You're a little wound up lately. And drop the Mr. Russo shit, call me Billy when we're alone. You know that." He smiles and gives you a wink before slipping out the door to meet the clients in the hall.  

A drink? You need a week off, a spa getaway and a new career. Billy Russo is driving you up a wall and he doesn't even see it. Or maybe he does. Shit. 

_____________

A week later. Just before eight in the morning you're settled into your desk, ready to start going through some new shipment invoices when you hear a commotion downstairs. It isn't unusual for the trainees to get out of hand from time to time, fights break out, things get heated. You dismiss it and go about your work. 

"Six new treadmills? What the hell are these people doing to them?" You sigh and type the invoice number for Sports Equipmentz LTD into your system. "Billy is gonna get an ear full for this one."

There is more comotion and you look at the closed door. Another fight? Billy doesn't stand for that kind of stuff on the training floor. He would have stopped it by now. Actually, no one should be in the facility except you and Billy this early. What the hell is that noise.

You push up from the desk and go to the window beside the door, peeking through the blinds. From what you can see nothing looks out of balance. Then you hear gunshots and your stomach churns, cold and sick. There is no live fire allowed in the facility. All firearm training is done off site. 

"Fuck." You flip the lock on the door and look around for something to barricade the floor to ceiling window beside the door. There is nothing you can move alone. You flip off the light and head to your desk, grab your phone and dial Billy's number. 

No answer. You sink down under the desk and pull the chair in close. Maybe if someone does get in they will think the office is empty and move on since the desk looks unused. You reach over and shut down the computer tower, then reach up and pull down all your paperwork to clear the desk. 

Thumping from the bathroom on the other side of the office makes your heart pound. Someone is on the upper floor with you. A gunshot. Tears well up in your eyes. Why didn't you let Billy get you a conceal and carry? Why didn't you do that gun training six months ago? Because you're afraid of guns and you couldn't trust yourself not to hurt someone on accident. Fuck. Fuck! 

The door handle jiggles. You cover your mouth and try dialing Billy again. The phone disconnects as soon as it rings once. Goes straight to a voicemail. You can't remember if he is with a client today. There are voices outside the door, then a gunshot so loud you know it's just on the other side. You close your eyes, press your face into your knees and try to imagine you are invisible. 

The door opens, not with a kick, but unlocked and you can't breathe. You can't move. They're moving around the room. Billy's desk first. Papers are rustled, then the footsteps grow closer. You shrink yourself smaller, arms in pain from holding your knees so tight. 

"If they took you, I swear to God I will-...there you are." 

You look up and Billy is knelt down, arm on the desk as he looks at you. He's a fucking mess of what you can only assume is blood and God knows what. "Billy, oh god for fucks sake." You cry and he shoves the chair away to pull you out onto his lap. 

Never have you clung to someone so hard in your entire life. You press your face into his neck, hand digging into his back harshly as you cry in relief. 

His hand slides up your back and cradles your ribs on the left. "Hey, hey." He murmurs softly and you stop crying so hard. " What did I promise you when I hired you?" 

"That I would be safe. That no matter what I would be safe and a-all I had to do was paperw-work." 

"That's right." Billy pulls you back gently, tugging your shirt to guide you. He looks horrible, but none of it seems to be from his own injuries. "Aw, fuck. You're a mess now." 

You look down at your shirt and it's got blood on it. "Oh god. Oh god wh-who..."

Billy shakes his head. "Don't think about it too much." He presses a kiss to your temple, hand on the back of your head. "Close your eyes, don't look at it."

"What happened?" 

"I'll tell you later."

"I didn't know what to do."

"Hey, no, no shh. You were a good girl. You stayed quiet, stayed down and locked the door." He rubs your back and pats your side. "We're going to get out of here and I'll handle the situation from the apartment."

You nod and peek your eyes open for a second. "It's bad out there isn't it?" 

"It's not pretty. I'll get you outside and we'll get out of here, don't worry." 

"Okay."

_____________________

You had never been to Billy's place. Never had a reason to go. It's more industrial than you expected, modern industrial chic. Posh. Very expensive obviously, but that was Billy. Well dressed, well spoken. He looked the part to play the part. 

He set you up in a large bathroom and gave you clothes, a shirt and a pair of pajama pants. They might fit alright, Billy is quite a bit slimmer than you are in the hips and thighs. 

You look in the mirror and clench your jaw. Your peachy colored blouse is ruined, your sweater is fucked. Your face. God your face has someone else's blood on it. Across your cheek and nose where you had pressed your face into Billy's neck. 

There is a pile of washcloths and you grab a few, soaking them and scrubbing at your skin. You pull your clothes off fervently, desperate to be clean of strange blood. The shower is large, open and ready to be used. So you do. You get in and turn the water on and sit on the floor, processing. It was all a blur. Everything happened so fast. Was it even real?

Some time passes and you see the door open. The water is getting lukewarm as it cascades over your skin. You don't even care if he sees you naked you're so out of your own head. 

"I'm going to head to Anvil. The police have arrived to investigate the break in."

"Okay." You croak, not looking away from the wall opposite you.

"You can stay." Billy walks into the room and leans over the shower to turn the water off. He squats down beside you and offers you a towel from the warmer by the toilet. "Mind getting out of there for me?"

"Billy, what happened?" You look over at him and he looks...normal. He's in a blue sweater, dark jeans, boots. It's the most casual you've ever seen him. He's always been a suit man to you. Here he looks like a guy you'd meet at a bar and share a few beers with. The guy you'd take home and laugh about jokes with from stupid comedian on TV. It's strange, but warming. 

He helps you up and wraps you in the fluffy gray towel. "Your feeling? About the clients I met with?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You were right." He slicks your hair back off of your face. "They got wind that I was looking further into why they wanted my employees. It was for a human trafficking operation. I don't do human trafficking, and I was going to decline the offer. Some snitch at the Rodgers Estate let it out that I was asking questions. I guess they thought they could clear their tracks by killing me."

"O-oh."

"Mmm. I didn't think they would do something in broad daylight but here we are. Amatures." Billy steps back and runs a hand over his hair. "I called the police, said that I got a notification that the building had been beached through an unauthorized entrance. It's not a lie. Technically they did. Thankfully I wasn't there."

You step out of the shower and grab the clothes he gave you from the counter. "But you were. You...you killed those men." 

"No, I incapacitated them." He crosses his arms and pulls his lower lip between his teeth. "It was me and you or them. We were the only ones in that facility. I wasn't going to let them hurt you."

"H-how do you explain that?" You sit on the toilet and Billy leans on the doorframe. "What if-" 

"That's my job sweetheart. You worry about yourself, here. I gotta go meet the cops." He pats the wood a few times and looks out into the hall. "Call me if you need anything. I promise I'll answer no matter what."

You nod. 

"I'll be back later."

____________________

Hours pass and you become familiar with the apartment. It's huge, the penthouse of a very expensive building downtown. It has two bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen and dining area, a living room, a balcony that wraps around and has a fire pit and a small private pool. It's more luxury than you could ever afford. Not that Anvil doesn't pay well, because it does. This is just far more than you could ever make. 

In Billy's room there aren't any personal touches. It's clean, picture perfect even. Like at any moment someone could come and take photos to sell the place. There is a picture on his bedside table, the only thing that isn't straight from a design catalog. It's you and Billy with a few investors. Your first meeting he ever brought you to. How could you forget? He bought you the dress literally an hour before the meeting because yours ripped in the back. It was possibly the most embarrassing thing you've ever done in front of a boss. He didn't make you feel bad or anything, he simply asked your size, stopped at a shop on the way to the dinner and got you a dress. It was just that easy, that normal. 

You set the photo down and lay back. Your eyes close and you imagine what Billy is like outside of work. Of course you've gotten a taste of that, all the banter and shared stories. Nothing too deep but enough to keep conversation going. You probably shared more than him, way more. It was like when you started talking to someone you couldn't stop. You just, information overload the poor person. Usually people get spooked away, or they tell you that they don't care or don't need to know. Not Billy. He just listened, gaze fixed on you while you talked. Maybe that's why you like him so much. He listened. He cared. 

"Cozy?" 

You roll over and open your eyes to find Billy in the doorway to his room. "You're back. I didn't hear you come in?" 

"There is a bed in the other room y'know?" He chuckles as he goes to sit at the end of the bed and pull his boots off. "Or do you just like mine because it's bigger?" 

"Oh yeah, yours is much bigger. Comfier too." 

He hums. "Go through all my shit?" 

"You know it." 

"There's my girl." He looks back and he's smiling. "I was getting worried about you. You seemed pretty shaken up."

You sigh and shake your head. Of course Billy doesn't think about how you've never been in a dangerous situation short of falling from a tree when you were ten. To him gunfire and blood were in a day's work as an ex marine special operations. "I think I'd be more worried about you."

Billy turns and crawls up the bed, leaning with his head on his hand, elbow propping him up. "Why's that?" 

"Been a while since you saw live action hasn't it? You're not worried about PTSD?"

"I've seen plenty of action since I got out. I know the risk I take running the company I do. It hasn't happened before now but it was bound to eventually."

"Right, yeah."

"Do I scare you?" 

You shake your head. "No, not really. I know you've done things, seen things that I couldn't even imagine. It's part of who you are, who you were." 

"I'm sorry you had to see me like that. It was them or us. You know that right?" 

"Y-yeah. I know." You pick at the bedspread and he bumps his hand against your knee. 

"You alright? I tried to keep you...away from it. I know you aren't like everyone else."

"I'm not ex military you mean." You feel your chest tighten. "I'm a civilian. I can't defend myself." 

Billy sits up and lays a hand on your back. "Hey, hey."

"I shouldn't stay at Anvil. I should just go somewhere else. I can't do this, Billy, I'm scared what if this happened again?" Tears spill over and down your face. "I-I can't." 

"I will never let anything happen to you." He turns your face to look at him. He's warm, his lips plush, eyes on yours. "You can work from home if you want. I'll stop by and bother you and make you tell me to shut up." He smiles a little as your lips turn up at the telling him to shut up part. "You like that?"

"I don't know, but I think you do." 

Billy laughs softly, his smile wide. "Maybe I do. You noticed that?" 

"Maybe." You wipe your eyes and he brushes a stray tear away with his thumb. "Why do you care so much? I'm just your assistant." 

"Because I love you."

"W-what?" You hiccup as your breathing stops for a moment. 

"You're like family. I trust you with everything, I tell you everything, you're my girl." Billy runs a hand through your hair. "I can't lose you." 

"I don't-...I'm just-" 

His lips press against yours and your eyes fall closed. It's an innocent kiss, soft and loving. "If I read this wrong all this time, you gotta tell me." He murmurs, head pressed to yours. 

"No, you didn't. I just, you just caught me off guard." 

"Yeah?" He smiles, nose scrunching up against yours. He places his fingers under your chin and tilts your head up to kiss you again briefly. "You're sure it's okay?" 

You nod and he pulls back to kiss your temple, holding his nose to your hair and cradling the back of your head. 

"Get some rest, I've got some calls to make." He climbs off the bed and heads for the door. 

"Are you leaving?" 

"No." 

"Good." 

He walks back quickly and kisses your cheek. "I mean it. Get some rest."

"I would if you'd just go already."

"Oh. You think you can just get rid of me?" He crawls back on the bed and you fall back as he straddles your hips. "You think you can boss me around huh?" He starts tickling your sides and you squeal, thrashing under his surprisingly strong hold. 

"Stop! Stop! I yield!" 

Billy stops and bends over, bracketing your head with his arms. "I knew you'd be fun to torment outside of that stuffy office." 

"I hate tickling." 

"Oh that's very obvious. I've made a mental note, highlighted it in yellow and everything." He bumps his nose against yours. "I'm gonna find everything that makes you tick." 

You reach up and run a hand over his hair that's flopping forward from lack of product. "Expect to get as much as you give." 

"Oh I do." His lips ghost over yours as he speaks. "I look forward to it." 

You shove his head to the side and he flops over. "Don't you have calls to make?" 

"Maybe." 

"Go make your calls. I'm going to stink up your bed and rifle through your drawers more." 

"I expect no less." He says, getting up and going to the door once more. "Let me know if you find anything you like, yeah?" 

"Get out!" 

He just cackles and you close your eyes. This is really happening. Funny how the world works in mysterious ways. You never thought you'd be the one to snatch Billy Russo off the market but here you are, and you're pretty damn proud of it. 

The end 

-----------

Header image by delicate-venus

Thank you so much for reading, please reblog to support content creators. -A

[tenthgrove]

Hello, can I request La Squadra members falling in love for a civilian they see constantly? ex: the waitress from a restaurant they frequent, the owner of their favorite bakery. I hope my request is understandable, my english is basic.

La Squadra Falling for a Civilian

La Squadra x Reader (GN), Romantic, SFW

Formaggio- Formaggio is less guarded with his trust than an assassin perhaps should be. A fellow commuter on the bus or train, a reveler at the nightclub, just anyone he passes on the street really, are all people he would happily chat to if given the opportunity. He already has several friends who are civilians, and it's only a matter of time before one of them finds their way into his heart. Formaggio doesn't think about the possible consequences of having a civilian lover as much as he probably ought to, though sometimes late at night, unwelcome possibilities do occur to him. He'll be honest with you about his work, since he couldn't stand to be with you otherwise. He trusts you to keep a secret. If the rest of the team discovers your affair, Formaggio will defend your relationship with all his might, convincing them through sheer insistence that the two of you can be trusted not to let this be used against you. And for the most part, it isn't. Your relationship is uncannily normal, with plenty of dates and nights-in where the two of you can be together without the outside world having any say. There is one condition to all this, naturally. You have to take care of his cats while he's away on work. He never trusted any of the others to do it.

Illuso- Perhaps unsurprisingly, Illuso never really considered himself a relationship guy. Casual flings are a dime a dozen, but until recently it wouldn't have bothered him at all to hear he would never find love. Perhaps it was the fact you were a civilian that changed this. Spending so long around criminals had warped him, made him forget how to see the good in people and in himself. You had never known any of that life. You reminded him who he used to be. You mean the world to Illuso and he will protect you at all costs. He urges you to report any strange occurrences to him, stalkers, people asking intrusive questions, anything of the sort. The thought of someone finding out about you terrifies him, and it's that very anxiety that innevitably leads La Squadra to investigate. The first time Illuso ever shows tears to anyone in his squad, is when Risotto informs him he won't be stopping you from seeing each other. Illuso goes home to you that night and holds you close. He does something he hasn't in a long, long time. He talks about the future.

Prosciutto- Growing up, Prosciutto could never envision himself without a spouse. Children, either, if they were at all willing to have them. But once fate had brought him to Passione, he made a strict policy: no friends, no confidantes, and most certainly, no lovers outside of Passione. How quickly that went away when he met you! It was like the very fantasy of his future love had burst into reality just to greet him. He seized his moment, invited you to meet with him again, and soon after that you were lovers. For the longest time, he lies to you about his profession. Psychiatry, he claims, for the sake of an excuse not to tell you about the day-to-day details. But he thinks about the difference between his life and yours every day. He thinks a lot about how its going to be possible to settle down with you. The only thing he knows for certain, is that no matter what happens, he's going to make it possible. Only two of his colleagues know about the relationship- Pesci, as informed in a drunken, guilt-ridden confession, and Risotto, told shortly after in a private meeting with the both of you present. Risotto sighed, patted Prosciutto on the shoulder and told him he respected him, both an assassin as a friend. Though he urges you both to be cautious, he trusts you to do so. He wishes you all the best for whatever may come.

Pesci- If there's one thing Prosciutto considered fortunate about Pesci's faint-hearted personality, it was that he could not ever envision his brother chasing after pretty people when he had his back turned. Simply, Prosciutto hadn't considered someone like you coming along. A person so gentle and amicable, even Pesci would force his anxieties aside and confess his feelings to you. Pesci doesn't realise it, but he's the perfect lover- supportive and understanding, while equally ready to jump to defend you when the time calls for it. You discover fairly early on what he really does, since Pesci could never live with himself for lying, but you can tell in his eyes it doesn't reflect the real thing. It doesn't change how you feel for him. And as for the rest of the squad, Pesci is one of the few who is honest from the start. Before your first date, he goes to Prosciutto and asks for advice. Annoyed as he is that this has happened, Prosciutto realizes how good this could be for Pesci and his development. It's clear Prosciutto's own methods of installing some confidence into the boy haven't worked. Perhaps you'll have better luck.

Melone- With his primary function in the operation of his stand being to analyze people, it's only a matter of time before he finds himself developing a more long-term attachment to one of them. It doesn't matter if you were actually chosen to host his stand, or even if you were eligible. Melone is struck at once by your compatibility and eagerly starts a conversation. He charms you into accepting his number, and a Passionate romance begins shortly after. Melone hints to you that his true occupation may be outside the law, but for at least the first year he says nothing more about it, and convinces you not to care. Melone is an observant and entertaining partner. While he is not particularly fond of dates, nights indoors with him are always a pleasure. La Squadra rarely likes to pry in Melone's business, so the chances of them finding out about you early on are low. When it does happen, Melone tells them of you of his own free will in the hope you might become friends with some of them. The assassins are so chuffed with the innocent, strange specter of Melone's lover, they cannot help but let his secrecy slide.

Ghiaccio- It might be hard for an outsider to see Ghiaccio as the romantic sort, but deep down, a soulmate has always been his dream. Perhaps it's not the spectacle of romance himself but companionship, a person who understands and accepts him in the way nobody else can. Someone to spend his life with. Meeting you was an accident. He was fleeing from a hit by foot as the police approaches, when he carelessly bashed into you on the street. Despite his rude introduction you invited him into your nearby home and, realizing it was his best hope of escape, he agreed. Now that you are lovers, Ghiaccio dreams of nothing more than your warm embrace. He loves you unconditionally, and worries for you every day. When La Squadra discovers your affair, he's less in trouble for having a secret lover than for tackling whoever it was who spilled the secret to the ground. Now that the pair of you have Risotto's blessing, however, Ghiaccio is far less anxious about being with you. There's talk of you moving in together, so Ghiaccio can have his wish and hold you every night from now on.

Risotto- A lover in any context was never really on the agenda for Risotto, let alone one from such an innocuous background. Letting himself get close to you could only happen in extreme circumstances, most likely you finding him injured after a mission and treating his wounds, without the faintest clue where he got them from. Risotto didn't mean to get attached, but after that day he couldn't help but revisit you. Soon, you were meeting in secret as lovers. He does not dare be seen in public with you, but the nights you have inside together always leave your heart fluttering at the smallest smile. Still, Risotto worries about you constantly. A lover could easily be used against him, and he could never forgive himself for any harm done to you. Yet, he knows he could never bring himself to cut contact with you. The solution, he decides, is to ask you to move in with him and the squad. It will be strange, he knows, to have a civilian live amongst assassins, but it's the best way to protect you, and he trusts his men more than anyone.

Sorbet and Gelato- Having been together since the start of their adulthood, Sorbet and Gelato never anticipated a third person joining their relationship. Still, it was an unspoken truth between them that should the right person come along, they would be okay with it. They met you while they were undercover for a mission, at the end of which they pulled you aside and told them who they really were. Unlike most others they don't hold back on telling you the details of their crimes, but if you didn't run away on day one you're probably alright with that sort of thing. Despite how callous and brutal they are to most, Sorbet and Gelato treat you with the upmost sweetness. It's rare they get to show their kinder sides outside the team. On the topic of the team, they make no effort to hide their relationship with you. Nobody dares disrespect them enough to question it. It's true that your relationship with the pair may expose you to quite some danger, but don't fear. Sorbet and Gelato will protect you with all their souls.

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ playdate ✦

this chapter pairing; yandere!wonwoo x reader, side mingyu x reader

genre&warnings; yandere!wonwoo, kinda asshole!mingyu, creampies, sloppy seconds, intoxication, exhibitionism AND voyeurism, masturbation, dirty talk, one sided pining for all!!, kidnapping, stalking.

✖ That being said, I do NOT condone yandere-like/obsessive/possessive behaviour in real life. this is a work of fiction therefore I will indulge in it. If you do NOT like this kind of content, please just ignore it.

notes; if I’m being honest, the draft for this originally was completely different and I reworked it because I wasn’t satisfied with how it was turning out bc it was too similar to sea castles except mingyu and wonwoo were brothers kjdhfdkjh 😭😭 As always, thank you sooo much for the love and interest in Monster Mash! I know last chapter was.... erm, a lot. LMAO 😆 Have a great rest of your day/night and I’ll see yall tomorrow~! 🎃 👻 💕

word count; ~3800

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - x - x - x - x - x - x

you call me on the telephone, you feel so far away;

you tell me to come over, there’s some games you wanna play

i’m walking to your house, nobody’s home;

just me and you and you and me alone.

The relationship you share with Mingyu isn’t necessarily one that you like to talk about, much less acknowledge on most days.

“O-oh, fuck, M---Mingyu!”

It’s purely physical and a little destructive, in your opinion. Especially when you found yourself frustratingly liking him more than you ever imagined.

He bends your leg, ankle resting against his shoulder as he angles his thrusts to graze against your sweet spot. Shapes dance behind your eyelids, lips parting in a silent moan when you feel yourself already close to cumming.

But it’s Mingyu that cums first, hips stuttering as he growls, “That’s right, fuckin’ take all of it, baby.”

He rides out his high, pulling out of you and letting your leg down before you can even process what’s happening. “Hey, wait, but what about me?” You ask, voice small as you watch him get off of the bed. He tugs his pants on, plucking a shirt off of the floor as he throws it over his head.

“Sorry, I gotta go take care of some business back at campus, Mr. Lee needs the papers graded before tomorrow’s 8AM and I’m already late. You can stay here if you want though, bed’s all yours. I’ll be back in a bit, I---sorry, I’ll make it up to you later.”

He’s gone in a flash, door clicking shut behind him as you sit with your legs still parted. Typical.

Groaning, you flop onto your back against his bed sheets.

“Thanks for nothing.”

Wonwoo says it’s the last time.

But every time is the last time.

He wraps a hand around his cock, soft breaths making the window fog up in front of him as he watches you and Mingyu through the window. He times the movement of his hand to match Mingyu’s thrusts as he pretends it’s your warmth wrapped around his cock and not his own fist.

“Fuck, fuck , fuck…” He whispers in succession, feeling his abdomen tightening as he gets closer and closer to an orgasm.

Wonwoo watches as Mingyu bends your leg over his shoulder, mental images of you underneath him instead.

He remembers the first time he’d seen you in Mingyu’s bedroom, curiosity making him watch through his bedroom window as you fell to your knees in front of the other male. Wonwoo knew better than to watch, so he looked away, cheeks burning crimson before he ever so slowly turned back to the window. 

He couldn’t help it.

Wonwoo had seen you around the university campus too, hanging around the art kids in the building opposite the Sciences building where he typically stayed with his small group of friends; Mingyu included. He thought you were cute and kind, especially when you happened to hang around their group for the day. And he liked you, even if he was too shy to ever say it.

Which was precisely why he couldn’t understand your attraction to Mingyu, of all people.

Mingyu was selfish, almost irritatingly so, and Wonwoo knew.

Wonwoo knew you deserved better too, someone much like himself. Someone who would take care of you better than Mingyu ever could.

Movement in the opposite window has Wonwoo pulling himself from his thoughts, brows furrowed when he sees Mingyu leaving and you still alone in the bedroom.

“What…?” He mumbles, slightly confused when he watches you flop onto your back.

God, what he would do to eat you out right now.

He tightens his grip around his cock, this time imagining himself eating you out, tongue against your clit while you moan out his name and tangle your fingers into his hair. 

A stuttered moan falls from his lips as he cums into his palm, eyes clamped shut as the pleasure washes over him.

Wonwoo promises it’s the last time.

“Hey, did you hear about Jeonghan’s Halloween party next Saturday?”

“He’s throwing one?”

“Yeah, I heard everyone’s invited too.”

Wonwoo pretends to go through his textbook as he eavesdrops instead.

If everyone was invited, that surely meant that you’d be there too.

Mingyu glances over at you, tapping his pencil against the corner of his textbook. “Hey…” He starts, “Did you hear about Jeonghan’s party?”

You glance up from your own textbook, bored eyes on Mingyu who looks up at you from his bedroom floor. Neither of you had talked about the previous time; opting to forget about it since it wasn’t the first time either. “What about it?”

“Wanna go with me? I’ll make it up to you for last time.”

No, he wouldn’t.

“I guess.”

You step out of the Film Developing room, arms full of negatives when you accidentally run into a body that walks up from behind.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The negatives spill to the floor, scattering all around you as you and the other person kneel down to collect them.

“It’s okay.” The deep voice replies.

“Oh, hey, Wonwoo!” You smile, “What are you doing in the Arts Building?”

He blushes a deep red, kneeling and stacking the negatives before placing them back in your arms. “Oh I--I do some film editing on my own and I--um, I was just wandering around. I had some free time, so I was curious.” Wonwoo shoots you a shy smile as he pushes his glasses up on his nose bridge.

Wonwoo was very cute.

“Oh! I didn’t know that! I feel like I’ve never seen you around here…” You trail off.

“Ah, yeah, I actually have a personal studio on the east end of town. It’s small but… I don’t have to share my things, which I’d prefer.” He smiles, eyes twinkling. “It’s no fun when people mess around with your things and ruin them, y’know?”

“Oh my gosh, I knooooow. Minghao always messes up my developing station and moves my shit around.” You keep talking but Wonwoo barely acknowledges it. Instead, he takes in your appearance, admiring you as you talk animatedly about god knows what.

God, why’d it have to be Mingyu.

“Hey, so are you coming on Saturday?” He blinks confusedly at you, “Huh? Sorry, I--I didn’t quite catch that last bit.”

“Oh, Jeonghan’s party! Everyone’s invited so I was wondering if you were coming!” His blush burns darker; were you asking him out?

“I’ll be there with Mingyu but if you show up, you should save me a drink!” His excitement falters slightly at the mention of Mingyu, but he does his best to send you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, I’ve got one with your name on it.”

Wonwoo was kind, patient and understanding from what you knew.

You’d only met him a few times and you knew he lived in the building across from Mingyu’s but all of your interactions with him had only ever been pleasant.

In another universe, maybe you would’ve been in a happy relationship with someone like Wonwoo.

A sigh escapes your lips as you get ready for Jeonghan’s party; short dress barely covering your ass when Mingyu saunters into his bathroom where you currently were.

“Jeez, who’re you trying to impress.” He mumbles, sidestepping you as he checks himself in the mirror.

“I just felt like being cute, that’s all.”

Mingyu grins, hands on your waist before they slide down to your ass. He squeezes hard; a chuckle on his lips when you mewl.

“Cute isn’t the word I’d go for with this ‘lil number but okay. Let’s get going.”

Mingyu drinks more than he should and he knows it.

He takes any drink someone puts in his hands and downs it before trying to find more which usually leads to a lot of 2AM drunk phone calls and quickies in the backseat of your car.

This time, however, you’re just as bad as he is; taking any drink available as you try to drown out the way you feel when you see Mingyu chatting up someone else across Jeonghan’s living room.

To be fair, you weren’t exclusive anyway.

But his eyes dance over to you, a cocky smirk on his face when he sees the effect he has on you. He knew how you felt too, even if you never said a word about it.

Mingyu didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had, even if he benefited from it more than you did. And the two of you were friends, albeit you weren’t sure for how much longer.

He leaves the other girl as he makes his way over to you, eyes unfocused when he presses you into the wall you’d been standing in front of.

“Let’s go somewhere more private.”

“Ngh, M--Mingyu, fuck--fuck, harder!”

Mingyu keeps you bent over the sink, hips slamming into your ass as he fucks you from behind in Jeonghan’s upstairs bathroom.

The loud music drowns out your loud moans and his filthy words as you eagerly fuck yourself on his cock. “Fuck, this tiny little dress of yours doesn’t do a damn thing. Bet you wanted me to fuck you just like this, huh? Bent over a fuckin’ sink at a party.”

Neither of you had even made the effort to get undressed as you hiked your dress up and tugged your panties to the side, hands planted firmly onto the mirror in front of you as you watched yourself get drunk off of his cock.

“G-god, yes, yes! Fuck me h-harder, damn it!” You whine. Mingyu slaps your ass at this, low grunts spilling from his lips. “Your cute ‘lil cunt begging to be filled with my cock at every second of the fuckin’ day. “ He slurs.

He feels his cock throbbing as he erratically thrusts into you, only a low groan on his lips before he’s cumming.

“O-oh, shit…”

You feel his thrusts slow down as he cums inside of you, a soft mewl on your lips at the feeling. You clench around him, shaking your hips slightly to get his attention back on you.

A sharp knock scares you both as Mingyu pulls out of you; panties slipping back into place like they’d never been touched.

“Hey! People need to use the bathroom, assholes!” Someone yells from the opposite side.

“Fuck, we need to go.” Mingyu grumbles, readjusting himself and zipping his denim back up.

You very slowly lift yourself up from leaning on top of the sink, tugging your dress back down quietly.

Of course. Of, fucking, course.

Mingyu can sense the annoyance even without you saying anything, lopsided smile on his features. “Later, okay? Don’t be a brat.”

“Whatever.”

You head for the door, unlocking it before you step out first and leave Mingyu behind. Your body still buzzes with the urge to cum when you start heading down the hallway, panties sticking to you like a second skin with Mingyu’s cum pooling into the material. You turn a corner into an empty part of the upstairs hallways, sighing slightly as you lean up against a wall.

You hear your name being called as you turn your head, finding Wonwoo jogging up to you.

“Hey! I was looking for you!” He smiles, noting the way you seem to sadly smile back at him. “Something the matter?”

“Ugh, it’s Mingyu…” You start. Wonwoo tenses up, hands balling into fists at his side. “What did he do?”

“He’s so fucking selfish! I don’t know what’s up with him lately but he always leaves me hanging!”

Oh.

It’s quiet between the two of you as your words sink in and Wonwoo’s demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. He takes a step closer to you, fingertips under your chin to lift your head up as he meets your blown out pupils.

“I wouldn’t leave you hanging, y’know.”

You feel a wave of arousal wash over you at his deep voice; did Wonwoo always sound like that or was it the alcohol? “W-what?”

“I said, I wouldn’t leave you hanging. I’d put you before myself, if you’d let me.” He smirks at you, eyes twinkling with promise.

“Show me then.”

Wonwoo drags you into the nearest bedroom; excitement coursing through his veins.

In another universe, he would’ve been more romantic about this.

Dinner and candles, picnics at sunset. Ah, well.

“Well, it’s not much but it’ll do.” He says, locking the door behind himself before he turns to you. He takes in your mildly disheveled appearance, walking you backwards until the back of your legs hit the bed.

“You deserve better, y’know? Someone who’ll take care of you.”

“I know… But you promised you’d show me, didn’t you?” Pouting, you hike your dress up before you sit down on the edge of the bed. You spread your legs as you let Wonwoo see your panties that were practically transparent.

“Fuck, you let him cum inside your tight ‘lil pussy and he didn’t even let you cum?”

“How do you know I’m tight if you never fucked me before.” You retort, shooting him a smirk of your own. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you felt more confident now than you’d been in a long while.

Wonwoo leans over you, easing you down until your back touches the sheets. “Only someone as pretty as you would have a tight ‘lil cunt and I’ll prove it.” He pulls away, undoing the button and zipper of his pants before he shimmies his boxer briefs down enough to pull his half hard cock out.

You lick your lips at the sight; he was slightly bigger than Mingyu. “Fuck, your cock is huge, Wonwoo…” He smirks at your compliment, tugging on your legs until your lower half hangs off of the side of the bed. He eases your wet panties down, pocketing them before he spreads your legs wide.

“I’m not typically one for sloppy seconds, but…” You blush at his comment. “...If it’s you, I don’t care.”

“Usually I wouldn’t have someone else’s cum already inside my fuckin’ pussy before I hook up with someone else...” You mumble.

Wonwoo guides his cock towards you, letting the shaft rest against your folds. He starts grinding against you, coating his cock in your wetness and Mingyu’s cum. His cock is already throbbing as he continues to tease you and himself, resisting the urge to fuck you hard and fast like he knew both of you needed. “S’okay, I’ll just have to cum inside you too and fuck it so deep into your fuckin’ cunt that you won’t even remember Mingyu ever did.” He grins.

“God, yes, make me cum too, I wanna cum with you…” Whining, you buck your hips up to meet his teasing touches.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make sure you get my cock nice ‘n wet.” He positions his cock at your entrance, teasing you one more time as you whine and squirm underneath him. “Fuck, you’re so cute when you’re whiny.”

He slowly eases his cock in, meeting no resistance with how wet you already were and the cum already inside you. “God, you really are fuckin’ tight…” Wonwoo mumbles under his breath.

It takes you a second to adjust to Wonwoo’s size before he’s drawing his hips back and thrusting back into you and a mewl cuts through the air when the head of his cock taps against your cervix; eyes fluttering shut with how well Wonwoo filled you up.

“Oh, god, ngh, Wonwoo I--I don’t know if I--I can hold o-off…” A choked cry rolls off of your lips, fingertips digging into the sheets underneath you as you cant your hips up to meet his thrusts. You’d already gotten close to an orgasm before and now that Wonwoo’s cock was snug between your walls and curving into you perfectly, it was hard to hold back.

“That’s okay, baby. You can cum as many times as you want. Use me how you want me.” He offers; voice gentle and inviting as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“P--please, ah, touch my---my clit…”

Wonwoo obliges, pinching and rolling your clit between his fingertips. “O-oh, fuck!”

Your body locks up, Wonwoo’s name spilling from your lips as he throws you over the edge and into the first mind-melting orgasm you’d had in weeks. He smiles dreamily at you, hips still snapping into you as he fucks you through your high.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you’re cumming.”

You can only whimper in response, blushing when you can hear how much wetter you’d gotten after just one orgasm. He takes his fingers off of you clit, licking the wet digits.  

Wonwoo looks down to where the two of you are connected, a soft groan on his lips when he sees how much of your wetness coats his cock. “You really did get my cock fuckin’ soaked, baby. Think you still have it in you to give me one more? I’m close too and, ah, I’d love for you to cum with me.” He shoots you a sweet smile and you feel your heart beat out of your chest.

You nod feverishly, “Mm--Mmhmm… I---I haven’t c-cum in a few weeks so… I--”

“A few weeks?”

You avert your eyes from his inquisitive stare, already knowing how he’s going to react. “Yeah, s’just Mingyu’s been so busy so… He’s been, hah, kinda’ leaving me h-hanging and---Ah!” Wonwoo thrusts into you hard, grinding against you once he was fully bottomed out.

“For weeks now? He’s been treating you like that?” It’d made sense now why he’d seen you in Mingyu’s bed alone that one time. “Y-yeah… but---but he’s just busy, y’know, ah, being a TA and a-all...”

He shakes his head in utter disbelief; selfish Mingyu, as always.

Wonwoo leans in until he’s face to face with you, kissing you on the lips gently before pulling away. He doesn’t say another word and instead works on getting you worked up to cum with him and even through the muffled music, he can hear your loud whines and whimpers and the sound of skin slapping as his thrusts become erratic.

He licks the pad of his thumb before he brings it back towards your sensitive and swollen clit. “Baby, ‘m close…” He whispers; only loud enough for you to catch.

“Ngh, fuh--fuck, Wonwoo, please cum i-inside me… I wanna feel your, ah, cock throbbing i-inside of me when you fill me up with y-your cum…” Wonwoo’s thumb presses harder against your clit and he opts to grind against you instead when he feels the tension in his abdomen start to snap. He moans your name shakily, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut as he lets the pleasure wash over him.

You lick your lips watching his face contort in bliss and you bring your fingers down and over his thumb as you press down harder onto your clit and the action is enough to throw you over the edge again, head thrown back and a sharp whine on your lips as you cum for the second time. 

Wonwoo slows down his thrusts as he starts to come down from his high and he works you through yours. “Shit, you really are so fuckin’ pretty.” 

A blush coats your skin as your orgasm starts to ebb away and Wonwoo is careful to not hurt you once he starts to pull his cock from inside of you. 

He watches the cum drip out of you, lips pursed into a tight smile. “Guess you should get these back, huh?” He fishes for the wet panties in his pocket; helping you slide them back on and up your legs before he pulls away and starts to smooth down his own disheveled appearance.

You laugh breathily, “I’ll let you have another pair next time.” 

“Oh? There’ll be a next time?” He grins. 

Biting your lip, you stand, readjusting your dress and grimacing at how gross you felt now that your panties were even wetter and covered in more cum. 

“I---I mean, I still... I still have feelings for Mingyu but--but...” You pause; Wonwoo’s eyes on you. “I know I should end things with him, it’s just gonna take some time and I--I think you’re a really great guy, Wonwoo, and I’d like for there to be a next time... It’s just... I think I need some time to get over Mingyu first.” You mumble the last few words, a little embarrassed you even admitted you liked Mingyu. 

“No, I---I get it. It’s no worries! Just---Just come find me when you’re ready.” He shoots you a beaming smile, “I’ll leave first, okay?” 

You nod in response, smiling at his back when he turns to leave. 

“Thank you, Wonwoo.” 

You end up heading home, leaving Mingyu at Jeonghan’s party all-together.

He’d find his way home eventually; maybe even puke in the backseat of a taxi and get what he deserved. 

You giggle at the thought, stepping into the lobby of your apartment building.

Huh, the lights are out. 

You’re a little confused, but you make your way towards the elevators; stumbling slightly with the alcohol still in your system. Pressing the button, you wait patiently in the dark lobby -- only the moonlight providing a soft glow. 

The elevator dings and you quickly enter it, pressing the button for your floor before resting against the banister. 

Hey, is that a person?

Your eyes catch a glimpse of a figure not too far off and only half visible from around the corner, brows furrowed. 

But you didn’t hear anyone enter the building.

The door closes and you shake the thoughts out of your head; it was probably just the alcohol making your eyes hazy.

Eventually you reach your floor, sighing in relief that the lights were still working. You stumble down the hall, dropping your house keys a few times before you can even make the turn to get to your hallway.

You reach your door, sliding the key into the keyhole and turning the lock.

God, it was so good to finally be home. 

“Good Evening, this is Boo Seungkwan reporting live on Channel 17’s 4 o’ clock news. We’re live at the scene here, as you can see behind me, at the apartment complex were Mr. Kim Mingyu resided. The police and detectives are still going through Mr. Kim’s apartment in hopes of finding any clues. His whereabouts are still unknown as well as his female companion. If you have any tips or information of where they both are, please do not hesitate to contact the police or the TV station.” Seungkwan pauses, waving down a pedestrian. “Sir? I’m a reporter for Channel 17 news, can we please have a word with you? It’s about the missing university students.”

Wonwoo sadly smiles, nodding. “Of course.”

Seungkwan gestures for the cameraman to come closer, holding the microphone in between himself and Wonwoo. “Sir, did you happen to know the missing couple?”

“Ah… Kind of. They were attending the same university as myself. He was kind of a friend of mine, and I know he lived in the building across from myself but…” Wonwoo pauses, shaking his head. “I--I don’t know what happened. They seemed like such kind people. I’ve heard rumours that they just fled to another city, but… that’s it really.”

“Did they tell you that, themselves?” Wonwoo shakes his head no. “No, just rumours flying around campus. Everyone saw them at a party last weekend, myself included. That seems to have been the last time.”

“I see, so have the police interviewed you? Do they have any suspects?”

Wonwoo shakes his head again, smiling sadly. “The police just think they ran away, which, I guess isn’t too far fetched. We’re all stressed university students, after all.”

“You mentioned he’s a friend of yours. He didn’t bother to say anything? Do you think he kidnapped her?”

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek, worry clear on his features. “I mean, Mingyu was kind of aloof and he was very drunk at that party. I’m not sure if they got into an altercation. We never really hung out outside of campus so sadly, I can’t really say I know if it’d be in his character or not.”

“Thank you sir, for your time.”

Seungkwan lets Wonwoo leave, stepping away to finish the live report.

Wonwoo nods, turning to make his way back into his apartment. 

He enters his place, toeing off his shoes before he heads towards his own bedroom.

By nature, he steps in front of his window; the same one that faced Mingyu’s now empty bedroom.

His lips ease into a small peaceful smile. 

He would have to make a trip to the east end once all the news vans and patrol cars were gone.

He was sure you’d love the food he’d be making for your candle-lit dinner. It was one of his favorite recipes.

And he was sure Mingyu wouldn’t mind watching from his place in the corner, either. 

[sup-hoes-its-me]

Adore You II (Yamato x Reader)

A/N: secret admirer Yamato fic. said that this one would be short, but i once again have gotten carried away. Here is the ending. It should be cute. thanks for reading. 

Word count: 3200

It had been a long day at the bakery, full of kneading breads and selling cupcakes and just generally doing some busy work around the store. Life was uneventful, except for the moments she arrived at her apartment in the evenings just as the sun was setting, and she’d find a new gift lying on the ground or a note taped to her door.

 It was nice, having these little surprises either at the beginning or ending of her day. In fact, she was growing all too used to the confidence boost the sweet love letters gave her. 

Apparently, she was beautiful. She was strong and kind and generous and funny, and so many other things all stated and elaborated on in these notes. She was high off those letters. They made her feel just a bit better about herself. Even after long days of work where her hair was falling out its tie and her skin dusted with flour and chocolate frosting smeared across her dirty apron, she still felt on top of the world.

Every day she grew more and more curious as to who was leaving those notes lying around. It really could be anyone, even someone she barely knew. In that case, she had no idea what she would do. Yes, the person in question seemed nice, but she didn’t exactly feel comfortable dating someone she didn’t know or like. 

And if it was someone she knew, what would she do then? Could they stay friends after all this mess? She would try, but would it be too awkward for them to be around her after spilling their feelings over and over again?

Just thinking about the outcomes of this secret admirer situation was overwhelming and she avoided the thought. She would just enjoy the acts of admiration from the comfort of her own home.

It had actually been three days since the last gift was left outside her door and she was beginning to grow excited. If he was gone for another few days, surely she could go around and figure out who was on a mission for the entire week. The turning point was almost here, she thought. Only a few more days until she could find out. It was both scary and exhilarating to think about.

As she rounded the corner to her apartment, walking up the metal stairs, she expected nothing at her door once again. That only made sense. Definitely not a person standing there, no way.

She certainly did not expect to see Kakashi standing at her doorstep, holding a bouquet of flowers. Just as quick as she had seen, she ducked back behind the wall, hand pressed to her mouth to shush her gasp.

What the fuck…

That was definitely him, she confirmed in her mind. The same white hair, mask, jounin vest, everything. Her heart raced and she felt panic creeping up her neck. How could this be? Kakashi was her friend, and only her friend. She thought that had been established a long time ago. There was nothing intimate going on between them, and she never anticipated there would be. 

She waited until he was gone before she walked to her apartment and picked up the flowers and note. She swore that this wasn’t Kakashi’s handwriting, but now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe it was and she was just remembering wrong. Why was she even questioning herself though? Right in front of her eyes, she saw Kakashi leaving flowers at her doorstep. The answer was clear as day.

Kakashi was her secret admirer.

The more she thought about it, it made a little sense. He always accepted her free baked goods, but she always just assumed he didn’t feel like buying his own bread. And he walked her home from the store on more than one occasion. He was nice to her every time they hung out. All of those things she always just assumed were normal friendly things to Kakashi, but she found herself questioning his every move now. 

Oh man. Oh shit. How would she even go about confronting him? He was such a cool and collected guy, she would feel awkward rejecting him. Would he be angry? Another thought crossed her mind for a moment. Maybe she shouldn’t reject him. He was a very smart and kind man, and he always knew what to say even in the worst of moments. He was reliable and strong and forgiving.

Maybe she should just go for it. 

Yeah, she cared for Yamato a lot, but why keep trying for someone completely unattainable when another guy she got along with was ready to give her the entire world? From the way he spoke in his letters, he liked her for a long time and intended to make her his long term girlfriend. It broke her heart that the man she spent years longing after didn’t feel the same way, so much time wasted. It really sucked.

She had been lonely for so long that the thought was more than tempting. 

It was all way too much to think about.

She entered her apartment that night with a lot to ponder before she fell asleep, tossing and turning with the knowledge that Kakashi was in love with her. How could she sleep knowing that? She would have to talk to someone else first before deciding what to do about everything. She would wait for Yamato to come back and help her out. He’d know what to do. 

_______

It had been days since she found out about Kakashi and this entire mess. Yamato was due to be back today, and she was counting the minutes. She already asked off work for the rest of the day so she could get all her business sorted out. There was just too much to do and she couldn’t wait until night time to get it all done. 

Awkwardly enough, on her way to see Yamato, she ran right into Kakashi outside the grocery store. He was carrying quite a big bag of food items, and she nearly knocked them all right out of his arms. She yelped, jumping back about two feet to keep her distance. Being so close to him felt nerve-wracking. 

“Y/N, what’s up?” he asked, his eyes scanning her up and down. “You look nervous."

“Me, nervous? Psssshh, of course not. Why would I be nervous?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

She stood there for a silent moment, her eyes drawn right on his face. He didn’t look different. He looked like his normal, cool self, definitely not like a man in love with her. He was damn good at hiding how he felt. She rubbed the back of her neck, her eyes averted now to the wall beside her. “So, uh, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing much, Just got back from a mission and I’m going to be home for a few days so decided to get some groceries.”

“Oh, really? How long were you on that mission?”

“It was only 2 days.”

“I see…”

Why was she asking? She saw him. There was no way he was on a mission that night. He was right there. Maybe all this questioning was a sign that she wished this was all some sort of mistake, that it wasn’t Kakashi at her doorstep, or maybe they were pranking her. A cruel and unlikely prank, but still, it was a possibility.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he questioned and he leaned in just a bit closer to get a look at her face. The woman found herself getting flustered. Quickly, she pressed her hands to his chest and pushed him away. 

“I’m fine. Just stay over there.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely not fine but whatever you say.”

She bit her lip, not knowing how to diffuse the situation. He was right, as usual. Things were definitely not okay, she just wasn’t ready to face the reality that he loved her, not here in front of the grocery store in the broad daylight. That was meant to be private. She couldn’t reject him like that, it would be humiliating.

“It’s nothing, Kakashi. I’m just...getting sick is all, so you shouldn’t get so close.”

But he persisted. “Sick with what?”

“I don’t know, the flu?”

“Hmm,” he nodded, but his eyes were all knowing and she found herself wanting to slither away on the ground and hide in an alley for a while. “You’re on your way to see Tenzo, right?” How? How could he have known that? She swore, this man was getting on her last nerve with his smartass attitude.

“Yes. How could you tell?”

He smirked through his mask, shifting the weight of his grocery bag to his left side. “Well, he just got home today, and the only reason you’d be walking that fast is so you could see him,” he replied, and she nodded grumpily, her arms moving to cross over her chest.  “I’ll let you go. He should be leaving the Hokage Tower soon, I just saw him heading in that direction.”

She thanked him before continuing on her path to go find Yamato. She was actually glad to be done talking to Kakashi. It felt way too weird talking to him knowing all the things he was secretly thinking about her. Plus, he was getting annoying with all the questions. She just wanted to find her friend and talk through her options.

It saddened her, but Yamato was never going to like her back and maybe Kakashi was the best choice for her. In this town, if you got to 25 without getting married you were pretty weird, especially if you weren’t a shinobi. Villagers get married off so quickly, it’s just part of the small town nature of it all. Parents want grandchildren, and it’s easier to live off a two person income. People got married young. 

Societal pressure would definitely be taken off her back, that’s for sure. It just wasn’t exactly as she had planned. One sided love.

Yamato was indeed walking home from the Hokage Tower when she spotted him after having wallowed in her own thoughts for the entire walk over.

“Yamato!” she called, running up to him. He stopped in his tracks, feeling himself growing warm again. She was just as beautiful as the last time he saw her, granted that was only a week ago. He wanted to give her a hug, having missed her for the last 7 days and all, but he refrained. He had no idea how she would react. Knowing her kind nature, she would hug him back, but then what would she think? He liked her? It was too embarrassing.

He looked down at the young woman and smiled. “Y/N, did you need something?”

“Yes, it’s really important. Do you think we can sit down somewhere more private?”

Oh God. Whatever she wanted to talk about, it couldn’;t be anything good. She wasn’t smiling, and normally she would have work right now. She wasn’t going to take off work for nothing. He nodded, and she silently dragged him over to the tea shop, her eyes flickering around to make sure Kakashi hadn’t trailed behind her. She took a seat at one of the tables and motioned for him to sit across from her.

He did as she asked, sitting cross legged on the floor, his hands secretly being wrung over and over again under the table. “So what did you need to talk about?”

“I know who my secret admirer is.”

Here it goes…

“Kakashi!”

“Wait, what?” His eyes shot open, and he froze. He was not expecting that, not at all. How could he? Yamato was Y/N’s secret admirer, it didn’t make sense. He made sure Kakashi knew to leave the flowers on her doorstep in secret, there was no way he would mess up something so simple. He was an S-rank ninja for a reason. 

She nodded, her eyes almost as wide as his. “Yeah, I know. I couldn’t believe it when I saw him.”

“What did you see?”

“When I was coming home from work, I saw him outside my door with a bunch of roses and a note. It was in the same handwriting as all the other love notes, so I know it’s the same guy. I-I just can’t believe it’s Kakashi.”

Yamato knew he should have confessed right then instead of asking, but he couldn’t keep himself from knowing the truth. “Well, how do you feel about him? Are you going to accept?”

She sighed, her eyes trailing down to the side. “That’s the hard part. His words, in those letters, they made me feel so special and loved. If Kakashi feels that way about me, surely he can make me happy for a long time,” she told him softly, and he could feel his heart tearing in half with every second that passed. He put in all this effort, and for what? For his friend to steal the girl right from him. He felt a terrible pain in his stomach, and he had to keep the discomfort from reaching his face.

“So, you’re attracted to him?” His worst fear. He knew the ladies liked Kakashi. He was suave and handsome. It would make sense if Y/N liked him. Who didn’t like Kakashi? 

His own self-esteem was diminishing. Out of all the outcomes he had thought up in his head on how this confession would go, he never expected it to end up this way. 

She shook her head. Carefully, she explained, “It’s just that I’ve loved someone else for a long time, and I’m not ready to give up on them. I know I should, but I just can’t.”

It was time to tell her. His hopes were low, but her confession left him feeling like there was a chance. He wasn’t planning on telling her any time soon, not until he was positive she liked him back, or even wait for her to figure it out herself so she could come to him. He really wasn’t one for expressing his feelings like this. He was Anbu, that wasn’t their way of life. 

He was scared. Scared of the rejection and then what would follow. The fallout and the avoidance. The dissolving of their entire friendship. Yamato was afraid of what this one little woman thought of him, and it took everything in him to  muster up his next words.

“Y/N, your secret admirer is not Kakashi, it’s me. It's been me the whole time.”

Her lips quickly fell into a frown, and he knew that wasn’t a good sign. She tilted her head to the side and asked, her brows furrowed deeply, “How could that be? I saw Kakashi with my own eyes.”

“It’s because I asked him to fake it for me until I got back from my mission,” he groaned, “You said you were going to wait until the next time there was a big break in the gifts coming and then figure out what shinobi it was; well, I was just on a week long mission and I didn’t want you figuring it out so soon. I gave Kakashi some flowers and a note and asked him to leave it there sometime in the middle of my mission, to throw you off my scent.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. I guess I should have anticipated Kakashi being late and you finding out, but I hadn’t.”

“Yamato-” Y/N felt relief bubble up in her chest. If Yamato was really her secret admirer, then she had nothing to worry about. It seemed things had worked out too perfectly in her favor. She loved him, wanted nothing more than for him to reciprocate her feelings. And he had. He had spent countless hours planning little surprises for her in the hopes that it would make her happy.

Her heart felt over the moon with happiness. No one had ever went out of their way for her, not like this. But Yamato was different.

“Y/N, I care about you. I care about you a lot, as you can tell from all the letters I wrote for you.” He paused, his eyes rolling to stare up at the ceiling, too nervous to meet her own which were filled with shock. “I know we live completely different lives, and I know you’d rather be with that other guy, but that night you got drunk and you told me you wanted a man to sweep you off your feet and that you were lonely, I thought I’d try.”

“I got drunk and told you I was desperate for a man? When...When did this happen?!” Admittedly, she felt a shot to the gut at that one. How embarrassing. Perhaps, that wasn’t the first thing she could have got from his confession, but she needed to know.

“I don’t know. A month ago?”

“Damn, I’m so embarrassed.”

He groaned once again, covering his eyes with his hand and mumbling, “Yeah, me too, Y/N.”

“Why are you embarrassed?” she asked, noticing his red face and neck. “Yamato, I want to be with you. You are the other guy.” 

“You really don’t have to lie to save my feelings.”

“I’m not lying. Admittedly, when the first gift you left was a bonsai, I immediately thought it could be you because 'tree', but I couldn’t be sure so I waited. I wanted it to be you the entire time, but I just couldn’t see someone as strong as you falling for a simple baker. I thought you’d be into other shinobi. I mean, they are more interesting than little old me.”

He reached over the table to grab her hands, and immediately he cringed. All this drama was making his hands sweat, and he didn’t want her to think of him as the sweaty hands guy. He scolded himself immediately after having the thought. She’s not gonna care, don’t be so nervous. Tell her how you feel. 

“Stop. Y/N, all I care about is you. You are the most beautiful, smart, kind, and interesting woman I’ve ever met. You’re amazing. You work so hard at the bakery. You aren’t simple at all.”

“Yama...”

“Please, just be with me. It took me a lot of courage to tell you how I feel, just say yes and accept that I love you for you.”

“O-okay. I’m so happy. I just can’t believe this is happening.”

A smile grew on his lips, and she let a goofy one take over her own expression. He never looked this happy, and she realized it was all because of her. Her heart  jumped in her chest, and she squeezed his hands, feeling herself growing warm with happiness. His sweet words filled her ears and she laughed. “I promise I will treat you like a princess. I will not let you down.”

“Okay. I promise to treat you like my knight in shining armor.” His heart fluttered again. She was the one for him. He was sure of it. His cold exterior had grown soft and warm because of her, and he loved it. He loved her.

“Deal.”

They ordered their tea and sat their just relishing in the fact that for once, everything worked out for the awkward, terribly lightweight baker and her anxious, ungracefully stupid shinobi that she was hoping for all along.

[tobiosmilktea]

the love club — miya atsumu

twenty one: temporary nothing

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: here’s some 2k+ words of badly written angst or whatever the hell this shit is ✨

atsumu pondered until his heart punched against his rib cage. his conversation with megumi was stuck within the confines of his psyche even in the early morning. he should be enjoying the last bits of peace and alone time with you before the rest of the team would eventually wake from their slumber and join the two of you for breakfast. 

furrowing his brows, atsumu’s gaze flickered down to you phone that was faced down upon the table.

furrowing his brows, atsumu’s gaze flickered down to you phone that was faced down upon the table.

furrowing his brows, atsumu’s gaze flickered down to you phone that was faced down upon the table.

usually he isn’t the type to invade someone’s personal space, but ever since last night there was a growing feeling of guilt within his gut. he hated the fact that he let megumi consume so much of his heart that he was even second guessing you out of all people. you were the one who didn’t even want to get close to him, yet here he was not minding his own business and possibly tarnishing it.

besides, he had caught on to how close in timing the vibrations were to when he would send messages. his suspicions and curiosity was practically eating him up.

atsumu flips over your phone. his eyes skimmed over random texts and notifications until he landed on a familiar message. it was then he felt his entire world plummet before him. it was as if his heart slowed and his mouth ran dry when he saw familiar words at the top of your phone screen.

[theloveclub] 10 new messages from miyatsumu

“what are you doing?” your familiar voice rang as you placed both of your breakfasts down on the table. confusion melted upon visage until the thought presented itself in your mind. it spread like spilled wine, making your pulse quicken and your reflexes to jump as you snatched your phone out of atsumu’s hand.

“rule number four to never break: to keep our identities safe,” you recalled the memory akaashi’s voice through a phone call from when you started the hotline, “always turn tlc notifs off whenever you leave your phone unattended.”

and you just broke it.

a shakey breath left your lips as you turned the app’s notifications off as if it were to undo the damage that had already been dealt. your eyes that were as wide as saucers looked back up to atsumu whose usual aura of borderless hues was dim and unreadable.

you open your mouth to speak. you weren’t exactly sure what you were going to say—maybe an excuse or a plain white lie, because surely lying can’t dig you a bigger hole right?

“atsu—”

“maybe megumi was right,” he spoke all hushed. he couldn’t even look you in the eye properly as he stared off into the distance, “i really don’t know anything about you.”

your expression contorted into confusion, trying to ignore how your gut coiled at the mention of his ex. “what?” you say, but it only came out in a mere whisper.

the setter pursed his lips as a beat passed. his shallow eyes finally meeting yours, almost hesitant to press any further knowing he was going to get hurt either way. “how come you never told me it was you?”

“you weren’t supposed to see that, it’s supposed to be anonymous.” you answered, trying to get this over with as much as possible.

“is it because you’re trying to get information to blackmail me or something, is that it?” atsumu suddenly accused, the ardor of fury mixed with betrayal and sadness mixing all into one concoction that made his fists clench beneath the table.

a scoff leaves your lips. you were almost offended to even think that of you, “why the hell would i do that?”

“the shit i talked about in those dms, y/n, were private.” explained atsumu, “who knows whether or not i could trust with that information knowing that you’ve hated my guts for so long.”

“i would never—” you tried to explain, but he cut you off.

as unnerving as a sharpened knife cutting through the air, the tone of his voice had changed severely when he spoke. “who else have you told? your boy toys that don’t even live in the same city as you?”

it was then something had struck within you. a splitting precipice between right and wrong, from sadness and confusion to annoyance and anger. boy toys, his words repeated themselves within your head and how badly you wanted to slap him across the face. how dare he call your friends that? “i don’t even get why you’re so angry. it wasn’t like your break up with megumi was a secret.”

“i literally talked about you in those dms, y/n.” the boy before you deadpans, “the girl i talked about each and every time i asked for advice was you and you didn’t say jack shit.”

the hurt was evident in his face and all you wanted to do was to close the space between the two of you, to hug him in one of those warm bear hugs that you rarely found yourself in. yet there was a chasm between you and atsumu, one both mentally and physically as your body couldn’t even move an inch.

you sighed, “i swear, atsumu, i didn’t know.” you tried explaining without avail, however it was the truth. you weren’t the type of person to assume something about yourself, in fact, you were way too modest and far too humble to even think someone as high of a caliber as miya atsumu would even look your way. not to mention he wanted a friend, not some second choice. “if anything, you made me sound like a rebound.”

“you’re not.”

a huff leaves your lips, refraining yourself from rolling your eyes into oblivion. “you and megumi broke up a month ago and you’ve already moved to to have feelings for someone else... doesn’t that sound like a rebound to you?”

atsumu tried to swallow down the forming lump in his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing as he noticed your burning iries and jaw tight in fury. “no,” he states as if it was a fact.

“no?” you repeated to question his sudden authority.

“because i’ve come to realize that i was never in love with her in the first place.” atsumu concludes, butterflies suddenly fluttering within the insides of his gut as he hesitated to say his next words.

he almost shut his mouth, yet he forced the words at the tip of tongue to be said because if he didn’t, surely things wouldn’t change.

things wouldn’t be the same as it used to be now that the peaceful dewy aura of tokyo mornings were filled with misunderstandings.

“it’s because the one i like is you, y/n.”

it hit you like a complete hurricane, like a downpour of such feelings filled you to the brim of the many unspoken epiphanies about atsumu you wanted to burst out saying, yet your breath hitched in your throat. this feeling—of stampeding heart rates, blazing hot cheeks of crimson that spread like a wild fire towards your ears, to the very feeling of the soaring bloom of monarch butterflies tickling at your lungs—this feeling wasn’t new, yet it certainly wasn’t familiar.

it almost felt euphoric. someone like miya atsumu, the guy you once hated to the infinite ends of your soul bad affected you this much, you didn’t know what do to. your feelings had never been so sure, yet so confused at the same time. however that euphoric feeling was forced to be lodged down your throat as you snapped yourself back into reality.

how could you feel as if you’d been kissed by a thousand suns knowing that atsumu loves you, but only found out through a fucking argument?

as fast as you were greeted by the suns, you were immediately burnt.

“get real, atsumu.” you finally spoke a bit shakey as a thin, glossy film threatened to cover your eyes. “you said it yourself, you barely know me.” your voice was no longer it's syrupy monotonous hum, the one that's usually hushed in deadpan was cradled in irritation instead.

the setter shook his head when he inaudibly scoffed. he ran his hand through his messy blond locks as his eyes, those goddamn eyes that could literally melt you in a puddle if you let your guard down for once, met yours again. “did it ever occur to you that i was always interested the moment we met? and that megumi was just some dumb obstacle that stopped me from doing so?”

that’s a stupid reason, you wanted to say but you held yourself back. this entire argument was idiotic, but here you idiots were: arguing in public.

“then why’d you let her?”

“because she confessed to me first and for once i felt like i wasnt hated by everybody.” atsumu explains, his shoulders slumping as he thought back on the memory. “... it was my first confession ever and honestly it came out of nowhere. megumi never talked to me in middle school, so having her suddenly say that she liked me felt like i was finally part of the normal crowd.”

atsumu paused for a second, eyes flickering over to read your expression that only softened once hishaze met yours.

“i was never really liked much in middle school because i became super arrogant due to volleyball,” he continues. “and at first i didn’t really care, but over the years i found myself desperate for everyone’s approval. and knowing how popular megumi was i thought dating her was going to change my reputation. and it obviously did... to an extent at least.”

so that explains it, you thought. as with most things, everything is always so complicated that even a year of running an advice hotline certainly did not prepare you for something like this.

silence fell between you like a wet blanket. it weighted you both down that the brught morning felt too gloomy to enjoy. even your breakfast was left resting upon the table the gentle hum of the morning rush continued to flow around you two.

atsumu believed that everything was practically falling into place now, but there was one thing he wanted to know. “why do hate me?”

it was a desperate question, no doubt, but he wanted so badly to know why he had fallen for someone so out of his reach.

“i don’t hate you, atsumu.”

he shakes his head, “no, you know what i mean. i want the real reason.”

you felt a lump form in your throat, hesitating to even swallow your pride and just say it. but it was strange how your body swears to not say something that you haven’t been able to even explain to your closest friends in years because of this.

“i hated you cause you were a fucking bandwagon.” you finally confessed, cringing at the way your words had immediately impacted atsumu despite preparing himself for the worse. “megumi and her friends hated me in middle school for no reason. the fact that you let her start manipulating you into not talking to people without fully knowing the truth made me hate you even more.”

atsumu had it coming for him. he really did. karma definitely got the best of him knowing that he let those terrible things happen to not only you but to others, and he didn’t do anything about it.

he knew it was going to hurt, but he didn’t know it was going to be like this.

it felt like a knife to the heart, yet this type of pain hurt more than whatever break up he went through with megumi because this was different. you were different.

because in the end everyone hates you, megumi’s words haunted atsumu and he just wanted it all to end. i get it, already. stop!

“but don’t hate you anymore.”

no it’s not the same.

you waited for atsumu to respond, but silence followed one after another. after a few missed beats, you decided that there was no avail that this could be the very last time you two were to talk to each other.

“i guess things are different now, so understand if your feelings for me have changed now that i’ve ruined your trust.” by each passing second, you felt your voice struggle to leave your throat. that lump within your larynx was growing bigger and bigger the longer you stared at his hurt expression.

you couldn’t believe that it ended up being you who caused that pain. and oh, how badly you wanted to fix it. but now wasn’t the time or will it ever be. this was all you had and it was gone within a snap.

“i’ll make sure to delete the dms and take you off the love club’s client list,” you began after you cleared your throat. “we can act like nothing had ever happened.”

atsumu’s eyes widened in saucers as he looked at you in surprise. end it?

no this wasn’t what he had in mind. sure, he was furious but he definitely didn’t want it to end like this. hell, he didn’t want it to end at all.

he wanted to badly to stop you from continuing before you said something you’d both regret, yet his thoughts were too jumbled up in his jungle-like mind that the words at the tip of his tongue appeared and disappeared before he could even say them.

“once we’re back in hyogo, we can stop associating with each other.” you began gathering your things before placing a few bills upon the table to pay for the food.

gaze falling upon your hand, atsumu wanted to badly to grab and tell you not to go, yet something was stopping him. his subborness was working against him.

“i’m sorry for wasting your time, atsumu.”

fun facts! —

atsumu ended taking y/n’a uneaten breakfast to go and planned on dropping it off at her hotel room, but decided you didn’t want to see him so he gave it to suna instead

on the bus ride back to hyogo, y/n sat with aran instead

the tlc boys don’t know what happened because y/n never told them, so they primarily found out through osamu telling tanaka

even then, they don’t know the whole story besides the fact they had an argument

taglist: (closed)

@kitsunetea @bftsukki @gyubit17 @katxsuki @alyssasteaparty @angsty-microwave @pleasemelafook-outta-ere @katsushimaa @dinonerdsimp @sakusakymi @deimmortales99 @nerumiz @evphology @atsunflower @noeminemi @chaelysian @lunebiscuit @hanbinplanet @crimsonrose720 @differentballooncollection @iwaizluv @90s-belladonna @terushimasbitch @apollochjld @shephard17895 @tremendousglitterthing @kara-grayson04 @clowninfortodoroki @gra-hamcrackers @bloomkings @highlyanxiousintroverted @verymuchbabey @miyaosamoo @achly @randomidksomeone @newborn-weeb @mx-minxx @callums-keith @lumiriai @unstableye @lovedanii @kritiiiii @ushisama @kitakure @gaychemicalwater @akakuzumo @noiramor @tsumu-core @stardustanni @ikemenweebo @veenusvalkryie (continued in comments)

[simpingforsoftboys]

Curiosity Killed the Cat

ft. Kuroken

G/N Reader

Read this first

Mini Series Here

Thanks so much for the request anon! I actually went back and forth with this- but I’m finally satisfied with how this turned out! Hope you enjoy!

Kenma hated these types of events. Blaring music, flashing lights, horny drunk people, crowded spaces. Yes, parties were the worst- but it wasn’t like he could tell Kuroo “no, I’m not going to attend your best friend’s 27th birthday party just because.” Which is why they’re in Osaka and not Tokyo at the moment. Kuroo had gone off to god knows where- claiming he was going to get some drinks for them- but that was 15 minutes ago and he still hadn’t returned. Shoyo was arriving late, so there was no one the dyed blonde felt comfortable with speaking too. Seeing no other option, he decided to seek Kuroo out on his own. 

“Excuse me.” The short male muttered as he nudged people aside to get to the bar. No one seemed to mind, too caught up in their dancing- probably thanks to their alcohol induced haze. His skin crawled in disgust as he passed by some chick who was making out with Miya Atsumu- if Shoyo was right with his suspicions, Sakusa Kiyoomi would not be happy. He pushed that thought aside. Eventually he made it to the bar- successfully locating Kuroo. “I was waiting what’s-” He was shut up by his fiance’s hand over his mouth. 

“Shh... look over there, across the counter- is that Y/n?” Kenma followed where Kuroo was pointing, they couldn’t see the persons face, but they had a similar figure and skin tone to your own. Suddenly the person turned- but they realized that it wasn’t you. 

It had been two, nearly three years since your emotional breakup, and they still found themselves looking for you in every room they entered. Kenma hadn’t gotten over his love for you- he doubted he ever would, but it was just another thing he had learned to live with. Kuroo slowly began to realize how much of an impact you had on his daily life, things he had previously taken for granted like a homemade meal at the end of a long day, hot bath prepped and ready, folded clothes and cute little notes. Those things were gone now, so he and Kenma had to step up and do it- until eventually they just decided to hire someone to do it for them. It wasn’t the same- sure, the housekeeper did an amazing job, but the difference was palpable. It sounded dumb but they could just feel the lack of love- your absence had created a void in the large penthouse. 

It had taken time, but Tetsuro realized that yeah, he did love you- not as much as Kenma- yet, it was a tangible love all the same. Which is why it hurt him that day- not only because you left them, but because you didn’t feel loved by him. He couldn’t find it in himself to be angry at you- that was his own doing. All you had done was leave him with happy memories. 

Kenma found himself reverting back to his old habits. Their home was a lot lonelier without you. Kuroo often went on weeks- if not months long- business trips for the volleyball association, leaving Kenma home alone for lengthy periods of time. No longer did he have you to keep him company or monitor his sleeping or eating habits. Even his viewers had noticed his unhealthy lifestyle and urged him to take better care of himself, but it wasn’t the same. So, without anyone there to stop him, he would fall into ruin- because then, when he was exhausted or kept occupied by the newest trending game title- he wouldn’t be thinking about all that he was missing. 

Neither of them had spoken- or even checked up on you since that day, those  few years ago. You had blocked them on everything, made your accounts private, changed your phone number, and asked your mutual friends to not share anything about you with them. It hurt- because how can you so easily shut out the people you love- but after much thought and consideration, they realize you had to be hurting twice as bad as they did. Unlike them, you had the time to simmer in your pain, hurt, and longing, while they remained oblivious. 

Ignorance was bliss.

The two of them left Bokuto’s party early that night, Kuroo said something about an emergency Skype meeting in the morning as an excuse. In actuality they found themselves driving to one of your favorite restaurants- they hadn’t stepped a foot inside the establishment since the last time they ate here with you. But- as it was for many things apparently- tonight seemed to be one all about stepping out of their comfort zones. 

“What are you getting?” Kuroo tried to act casual, but Kenma had known him much too long to fall for his act. 

“I think I’ll get (f/f).” 

Kuroo nodded. “I think I will too.” Neither of them particularly liked (f/f), but it had been your go to order. Maybe by being here and eating the familiar dish, they could pretend that they were simply on a date as a triad- and you were running late- instead of dealing with the reality that they were a couple now and not a throuple. 

Their food arrives and they dig in, eating slowly, eyes shutting occasionally, it seems like they’re merely savoring the flavor- when in reality they’re trying to picture you dining with them. No words are exchanged between the two- they’re together yes, but it’s somehow a lonely occasion all the same. 

If you were here, the table would be filled with easy conversation- you were always so neutral when you spoke, teasing when you felt particularly daring (they realize now that this was such a rarity because you were hesitant about starting an altercation- which no one should have to be afraid of in any relationship). Kenma would let himself loosen up and exchange snarky words with Kuroo, who quipped back savagely, and you would watch them- laughter spilling from your lips. Too bad they didn’t try harder to include you in the conversation- not that they intentionally alienated you- just that they were enjoying themselves too much to bat an eye in your direction. 

Yeah, it was better for you that you weren’t here. That was a fact they still had trouble stomaching. 

They hear the restaurant’s door opening in the background, but don’t care enough to look who entered. It doesn’t matter to either of the two that it’s late at night and logically there shouldn’t be anyone else here but them. Their imagined scenario is much more appealing than real life. 

“Put me down Tsutomu!” A male scolds from the lobby area, despite their best efforts, they’re unable to block the newcomers voices out. 

Another male laughs in response. “Calm down Kenji, I got you!” 

“Hahah! Why are you so red Kenji-” Someone else adds, this person’s voice is familiar. Kenma and Tetsuro freeze at the sound. It’s kind of weird how they recognize it- despite having slowly forgotten what it sounded like over the course of passing time. You know how each time you recall a memory it actually ends up altering it a little? That’s how it was with your voice. Eventually their recollection of it was changed to the point that they couldn’t quite remember how exactly your laughter sounded, or even how your pitch changed with various moods. 

Their ears were filled with you- wonderful, gorgeous, breathtaking you- the one who cared too much and pushed aside prioritizing yourself until eventually you couldn’t take it anymore. The Y/n that they still, could never seem to love enough- even now. But it was dissimilar all the same, since you sounded so happy, so content- what was weird was that they didn’t even need to see your face to confirm it. 

Neither of them dare to look in your direction, afraid that you’d disappear right before their eyes. It isn’t until they see your approaching figure in their peripheral that they glance over. 

You’re positively glowing. It feels like you’re an entire galaxy- so far and out of reach- and they’re merely stargazers. They’re stuck on Earth, forever fated to watch and appreciate your splendor from an impossibly wide distance.

The purple-nearly black haired man that accompanies you pulls your chair out, gesturing to your seat with exaggerated motions. You laugh, sitting down in the most graceful manner possible and let him push your seat in. He places a kiss to your temple before going to pull out a chair for the other brown haired male- whose cheeks are still tinted red. 

The three of you order appetizers and speak about many things- Kuroo can overhear ‘volleyball’ and ‘hospital’ mentioned somewhere in the mix. The two men- your apparent lovers- don’t even have to make an effort to include you in their conversation, it’s like second nature for them, just as it should have been for him and Kenma. They listen intently as you ramble on about whatever, the shorter brown haired one adding his two cents in occasionally, while the taller male questions or presses you for more details. 

“Kuroo I’m not hungry anymore.” Kenma says, and only now does Tetsuro notice how upset his fiance is. Normally the half blonde is composed and neutral, but right now his face is scrunched up like he smelt something sour. The feeling is mutual. He isn’t happy with the situation either. 

"Do you want to head back to the hotel?”

“No, let’s stay a little longer.” 

So they stay, silently watching as you make lively conversation with your lovers. Observing as you polish off your plates and finish dessert, they’re still seated when the throuple pays the bill and walks out the exit. Eventually the elderly owner comes out and asks them if they want to order anything else- a polite way of letting them know that they’ve overstayed their welcome. 

They tell her no, pay their own bill, and head back to their car. They sit there in the parking lot a little longer.

“Hey Kenma.” Kuroo murmurs, fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

“Hm?” Kenma hums.

“Do you think we could have made it work?” It’s a question that they’ve never actually voiced out loud- not even once- in the years since the breakup.

“Why do you ask? You already know the answer.” Is what he receives in response. Kenma’s right, he did know.

“I... guess I needed to hear it.” He says lamely.

He turns the key and starts the ignition. They drive back to their hotel in silence. 

They made their beds a long time ago. So it’s only right that they lie in it- even if the bedsheets are uncomfy and the blanket threatens to suffocate them.

Kenma regrets wondering about how you were doing now. At least before tonight he was able to take comfort in the fact that you still might be in love with them.

The old idiom was right. Curiosity killed the cat. And he certainly felt like he was dying.

A/N: Believe it or not the inspo behind this was the song Good Stuff by Griff. I really liked the whole idea of Kuroken x reader ending on semi good terms. The difference between how their emotions for the reader portrayed here vs IwaOi is an example of this. Unlike IwaOi, Kuroken is able to identify their emotions when given time and space, they’re not necessarily prideful and can acknowledge that despite being broken up with, they’re still the ones who were left with “the good stuff.”

They miss you sure, but they know it’s unfair to want you to come back to them when they’ll never be able to love you as they should. So they don’t even bother wishing or seeking you out. Of course, they do their best to maintain some semblance of a connection to you (like why they look for you in crowded rooms and eat your favorite food), but they’re fine with remaining curious. Of course no one can remain willfully ignorant forever though.

[babbushka]

Beyond Reasonable Doubt (ch.1)

                                –      A Lawyer AU      –

You and Kylo Ren have hated one another for as long as you can remember. He, a criminal prosecutor, and you, a defense attorney should be natural-born enemies, and you are. But when Kylo comes to you seeking representation after being charged for a murder he didn’t commit, you both learn a thing or two about life, the law, and love…

[5k, no warnings for this first chapter!] 

Available on AO3

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

In a world of ever-changing circumstances, where people do things that cause ripples and shocks through the very fabric of society that shake them to their core, where the sun shines and rain falls and snow blows cold through the streets of Manhattan, where there is life and death and a mess of bullshit in between, there was but one thing that you could ever comfortably rely on in life.

Only one thing remained constant in the grand scheme of it all: your alarm.

With a grunt and sigh, your arm extends out from underneath the covers to smack at the loud blaring jingle that sounds from your phone, hand desperately trying to hit the dismiss button without looking so that you don’t have to face the day just yet. It’s too early, you reason, to pull your whole self out from under the covers.

Eventually you give that thought up though, because dammit now you’re awake and it’s Monday morning and you have an office that’s waiting for you uptown. So, ever grudgingly, you throw the plush comforter off of your body and stretch to greet the day, saying good morning to the city that never sleeps.

You don’t usually dread waking up, but well, the last time you’d been in the office was Friday afternoon, after you lost your case.

After you lost your case, to him.

Glancing at the clock on your phone, you chew your lip for a moment or two, before finally turning off the do not disturb function, immediately going into the bathroom to shower and ready yourself for the day while damn near a hundred backlogged notifications make your phone buzz nearly onto the floor.

There’s a small mirror in the shower, a little compact to make sure there’s nothing left on your face after you scrub your skin clean, and you catch your own reflection in it. You’ve looked better, that was for damn sure – but by that same token, you’ve also looked worse. Mondays were shit, but today was gearing up to be an even worse one than normal.

No, you think as you shake your head adamantly, you have no desire to let him soak up any more of your good mood than he had already. So what if you had forgone your entire weekend, canceling plans and ignoring friends to nurse the sting to your pride that was losing? So what if instead of checking your email or your phone, you sat yourself on the couch and wasted two entire days doing nothing but watching shitty shows on Netflix?

What you did on your downtime was nobodies’ business, and since you live alone in your beautiful one-bedroom in SoHo, no one was there to spill your secrets. If anyone asked – not that anyone would, if they knew what was good for them – you would tell them that you absolutely did not spend the weekend wanting to throw darts onto a photo of his face. That wouldn’t be very professional, now would it?

Shutting off the water, you wrap yourself up in a big plush towel, and pad across the floor to your closet. Briefly, ever so briefly, you glance at your phone on your way, holding your breath, wondering, hoping that there might be something from him.

If there is, it’s buried under a pile of emails and text-threads from your firm, so he’ll have to wait.

Manhattan in January was chilly, so you bundle yourself up in your chicest coat overtop your most well-fitting skirt suit and a pair of heeled boots. Even if you felt like shit, you could look like million fuckin’ bucks, and no one would be the wiser.

And what a wonder the power of confidence was! Through the streets and down to the subway, you smiled at everyone, and they all smiled back. You offered your seat on the train to an elderly man who clearly needed it more than you, and he complimented your gloves. Everyone from the NYPD officer drinking his coffee to the mom scolding her three children brightened as you wished them a good morning, and somehow, along the way to work, your Monday blues disappears into something a little brighter.

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

Your good mood only continues to grow as you exit the elevator of the huge high-rise that you call your home away from home, your office on the twenty-third floor right in the heart of the Upper West Side. Sandwiched between the Hudson and Central Park, you have to admit that getting your ass out of bed was worth it, even if just for this view.

“Morning (Y/N).” The front desk security guard greets you, and you say hello back to him with a performative show of your badge.

HKS Law, so named after the founders and current partners Amilyn Holdo, Ben Kenobi, and Luke Skywalker, is a shining pinnacle of what defense attorneys and opposing counsel at trials should be. Not only had the firm made history time and time again with incredible wins and even more incredible ultimate losses, but it prided itself on being representation for the people no one else could represent.

Most of all, it had you.

If your alarm was a constant, than this was a universal truth: you are a damn good defense attorney. As you walk through the crisp and clean polished floors, you hold your head high, knowing that this loss against him still put you at the lowest loss rate of anyone in the history of HKS, lower than even the founders themselves.

That little reminder has you grinning to yourself. You’d been working with HKS for nearly six years now, and very quickly you saw your office climbing higher and higher up the skyscraper, saw it getting bigger and bigger. And now, you were nearly positive, that your meeting at eleven o’clock would be to discuss partnership with the firm as a reward for your continued hard work.

“Hey (Y/N)!” One of the associates, Rose Tico smiles at you from where she’s chatting with her sister Paige by their desks.  

“Someone looks like they had a nice weekend.” Paige remarks, and you only wink at them, playing the game.

A game, which becomes instantly easier as your assistant, a bright-eyed intern fresh out of law school appears seemingly out of nowhere.

“(Y/N), good morning!” She is already offering you a cup of something nice and hot, her arm cradling a stack of manilla folders that have all sorts of sticky-note flags on them, that she shifts onto her hip ever so slightly to brush a few loose braids out of her face, speaking at what feels like a million miles a second, “I have your coffee ready and there’s a fresh breakfast buffet in the break room if you’d like, I can get you something – ”

“Good morning Neisha.” You accept the coffee gratefully, but interrupting her only to give her a chance to catch her breath. You check your watch, it’s only half-past seven, she’ll wear herself out if she exerts that much energy first thing. “A bagel with the usual would be perfect, thank you.”

“No problem – oh, Rick wanted you to look over those case files before your eleven-o’clock.” She breathes a sigh of relief, and gives you a smile.

Groaning, you accept the manilla folders too, balancing the coffee cup on top of them as Iman follows you into your own private office. Your assistant stands in front of your desk at the ready, looking sharp and put together, as ever.

One thing that you loved about Neisha – aside from the dozens of things that you admired and appreciated about her – was that you have never ever seen her in something other than a pantsuit. She did not wear dresses or skirts, she was almost never in heels, and she did not carry a purse. Instead, Neisha could almost always be found in a very smart trouser and blazer set, often complete with vests, and fun-colored socks in her loafers to coordinate with her ever-expanding collection of ties.

“Rick can go fuck himself.” You mutter under your breath, and she laughs.

“Should I tell him you said that?” With a playful glimmer in her eye, she crosses her arms over her broad chest.

“Yes.” You wink, before checking your watch once again and reminding her about that, “Bagel?”

“Bagel – right, on it.” Neisha snaps her fingers and leaves, closing the office door behind her.

 You like your office, even if you’ve outgrown it. Much like the rest of the firm, it has stayed up to date with the contemporary interior design of the day. However where the open floor of the firm is mostly whites and silvers and glass, your office feels warmer with shades of coffee browns and creamy neutrals. 

Remembering how you had been so excited for the promotion to your own office, you can’t help but chuckle to yourself now – it really was a small office. It consisted of a long dark brown desk situated in front of a wall-unit bookshelf/display area, and a seating arrangement of matching brown chairs situated around a free-edge wooden coffee-table. A soft rug covers the marble flooring, and cream gauzy curtains cover the windows, but that was about it.

You had been to the offices of the higher ups, you knew just what you could achieve if you made partner – even if you made junior partner.

And if all went well during this meeting at eleven, you knew you’d be moving into one of those offices soon.

For the first time all weekend, you sit down in the big leather chair behind your desk and finally check your phone. The case files remain on your desk, and you know you’ll get to them eventually, but until you’ve had some breakfast and that coffee can work its magic, no one could blame you for scrolling through the shit that you had put off since Friday.

It’s mostly work friends taking your side, which you appreciate. They knew losing a case was hard for you – you didn’t do it very often. And even though you never lost to anyone besides him, it still never got easier.

The case had been a simple one, or at least, you had thought so. Murders are so often simple, either the person did it, or they didn’t. If they did, there’s evidence, and if they didn’t, well, there’s evidence too. And when two parties come forward with their own evidence, compelling, strong fucking evidence – evidence of alibis and proof that your client couldn’t have been there, couldn’t have done it – it’s up to the jury to decide who to believe.

In this case, this jury decided to believe him, and there was nothing you could do about it. It was losses like this, losses like the knowledge than an innocent man was going to prison, that make you seriously question the legal system as a whole, frankly.

It’s then that you see it, and your hand freezes.

You have a missed message from him.

He’s saved in your contacts as the dick from VTH, and even though that could refer to any number of people, you know that it’s him. You have five missed messages from him, as a matter of fact, which sends both a rush of adrenaline through you, as well as a spike of anxiety.

The two of you…you’d never been friends, not really. In fact, the closest thing to a relationship that you might have is that of a rivalry, if not flat out enemies. You hated him, and he hated you, and he had hated you ever since the first day he set eyes on you, from the very first moment you walked into the courtroom as a last-minute addition to the defense counsel, and won the case in fifteen minutes.

Which was a shame, because you often find yourself thinking that if he weren’t such a…well, a dick, there could have been something there. Instead of a friendship, or even a civil acquaintanceship, you have over the years developed something of a hate-fucking-enemies-with-benefits arrangement. He was probably pissed that you ignored him all weekend, but that was okay – let him be pissed, you were pissed too.

You don’t open his messages, not yet. You’d need coffee in you and food in your stomach before you’re able to handle whatever mood he has to be in, now that you’ve got the energy to deal with him.

You’re so deep in thought that you nearly miss when Neisha returns with a plate for you, a big spread arranged on your desk for you to enjoy. You’re about to thank her and let her get on with whatever work she has to do, but she holds out a newsletter with a devious smile and curiosity gets the better of you.

“Have you seen?” She asks, and you raise a brow, a smile of your own creeping across your face.

The newsletter was something that circulated through the different firms in the area, keeping everyone up to date – or at least as up to date as legally possible – on the goings on in the sphere of influence that you all found yourselves in. Everything from congratulatory memos to case results, and even high profile celebrity gossip was fair game, but one of the more scandalous parts of the newsletter, was the publication of trouble that various lawyers found themselves in.

The Monday morning newsletter had quite a bit of this from over the weekend, and right there on page sixteen, is none other than his face looking as irritated as he possibly can, as he’s being given a hard time for a DUI on Friday night.

“Oh fuck.” Your eyes widen, wanting nothing more than to call him and yell at him for being a fucking idiot, “What the hell does he think he’s doing?”

“Whatever he wants, evidently.” Neisha shrugs, no doubt thinking the news would cheer you up in some sort of vengeful way that you appreciate. She reaches for a pumpernickel crisp from the spread on your desk and muses, “I bet the cops are thrilled, they hate that sonofabitch.”

“Yeah them and me both.” You mutter, already rubbing away a headache that’s starting to form across the expanse of your forehead. “He’s not going to be pleased about that photo, he looks rumpled.”

Sighing, you look down at the photo. He’s very clearly intoxicated, you’ve seen that look in his eyes more than once, the blurry out of focused glassy look that he gives you over smiles at dinner sometimes. You blink away the image of him in a nice suit on the other end of a table, reminding yourself that you’re angry with him.

“Doesn’t he have a driver? I wonder why he got behind the wheel himself.” Neisha continues, and bless her you think, for continually giving you a means to not be left alone with your thoughts.

“If there’s one thing I know about that man, it’s that when he sets him mind to something, no one is going to stop him from doing it.” You reply, not able to ignore a bit of gut-wrenching regret.

Maybe if you hadn’t been so mad at him, you could’ve gone with him to wherever he was coming back from, and maybe you could’ve --

“Should I have this framed?” Neisha asks, and you blink again.

You check your watch, it’s only a quarter ‘til eight. Have you really only been at work for fifteen minutes? That stack of folders sits on the edge of your desk, taunting you. You’re gearing up for an extra long day.

“No, that’s okay.” You shake your head, opening the bottom drawer of your desk and dropping the newsletter into it. “I will keep a hold onto it though. Just for fun.”

With a laugh, Neisha leaves and once again closes your office door.

“God dammit.” You grumble, pulling your phone out yet again.

The unread messages from him sit buried beneath thirty other messages that don’t warrant responses, and you hover your thumb over his name.

After all these years, something about getting a text from him made your heart jump. It felt stupid, you weren’t some teenager with a crush in high school, you were an adult, and this was just another adult, who you happened to have developed some sort of attachment to. Not a friendship, or a relationship even, but some kind of attachment.

Right now, you wanted to bitch at him for getting himself into trouble, for driving while he was so very clearly drunk, a whole argument prepared about how he could have seriously hurt or even killed someone, how even though he’s a rich asshole he can’t afford to be so reckless.

But first, in order to bitch at him, you have to read what he’s sent you over the weekend, and that’s where you keep tripping up. You don’t know why, but when you do finally open up his texts, you find that you’re holding your breath until you read them.

You try to ignore the way the thread starts out, try to ignore how if anyone were to squint, they might think something was going on between you two.

 Incoming: [1/8 6:03am] just picking up croissants from that place u like. jam?

[1/8 6:10am] Yeah, raspberry if they have

Incoming: [1/8 6:11am] on it, go back 2 bed.

 That had been just over a week ago, and you remember the day well, how you exchanged smiles over bites of fresh and flaky pastry, how you had dipped the croissants into hot chocolate in his bed, not giving a fuck about the crumbs that weren’t your problem because they weren’t your sheets.

How that was the last time you had seen him, before the conclusion of the case.

Now, now that you’d lost, the tone of the thread has very clearly shifted to something much colder. One thing you’re surprised to see though, is that they’re all from around Friday night, which was unusual.

 Incoming: [1/15 7:43pm] going out 2 celebrate tonight, join me

Incoming: [1/15 8:57pm] u can’t ignore me forever u know

Incoming: [1/16 12:02am] i’m glad u didn’t come, ud fucking hate it here. theyre playing music 2 loud

Incoming: [1/16 12:15am] r u seriously still mad?

Incoming: [1/16 1:09am] Fuck you.

 Rolling your eyes, you rub away more of that headache that starts to form. It was weird that he didn’t text you at all for the whole day of Saturday, or Sunday for that matter. If you didn’t spend the weekend together, he was very content to simply blow your phone up with links to random bullshit or long text conversations in broken grammar because his thumbs were too big for the buttons.

So for there to be radio silence after one o’clock in the morning was strange.

“For fucks sake.” You find yourself texting him back without even thinking about it, your fingers moving over the keyboard easily and quickly, sending off a slightly antagonizing reply after two days of nothing;

 [1/18 7:55am] Looks like you had quite the night on Friday.

 There, you think. That should get a response out of him. No doubt he would be quick to complain about how he had been pulled over and the whole nine yards. You wait for it to come through, the text. Or more accurately, the string of impassioned paragraphs that he tends to send you.

But a minute go by, and there’s nothing.

Five minutes, and nothing still.

You know you have to work, you have shit to do, you have that big meeting in a couple hours that you have to mentally prepare for, there’s no time to be worrying about him not texting you back. Still, you don’t like the silence. Sure that makes you a hypocrite, but he deserved your cold shoulder for beating you in court. At least, that’s how you justify it for yourself.

Getting up from your desk, you hover in the doorframe, where your assistant’s desk sits just outside to act as a buffer for anyone wanting to bother you.

“Hey Neisha?” You ask quietly, getting her attention, “I haven’t missed any calls, have I?”

A crease of confusion dips between her brows as she frowns, and immediately she checks the call logs on the conference phone that sits on her desk next to the big computer that takes up most of her space.

“No not that I can think of, are you expecting someone – ?”

Just as she’s asking, the phone rings. You lean over and see the number is one you don’t recognize, and you frown too.

“Better get that.” Neisha says awkwardly, so you just nod and retreat back into your own office from where you came.

It’s been seven minutes now, and there’s still nothing from him.

“Fine, fuck you too.” You mutter at the phone, locking it and putting it in the shallow drawer of your desk so you can focus on the folders in front of you finally.

 The stack is pretty normal, all the weekend material finally coming in now that it’s the start of a new week. There’s new case files to look through to decide if you’re doing to accept the client, supplementary material from old case files that you’ve asked for to review, notes and evidence belonging to associates’ cases that you said you’d give your opinion on – all mixed into one big pile.

You liked it though, liked staying busy. It was a good distraction from a loss, the ability to win, the ability to prove to yourself and to the world that you’re good at what you do. There are all sorts of awards and pieces of paper displayed on the walls of your office that show that you’re good, but still, there’s nothing like a strong win after a frustrating loss.

But you’re not even halfway through reading the first folder, when Neisha knocks on your door and opens it slowly, a look of preemptive apology on her face.

“I’m afraid you’re going to need to cancel your eleven o’clock.” She says, and you can tell by the tone of her voice that there’s no use in trying to argue with her.

You let the folder fall down onto the desk, and brace yourself for whatever bombshell she’s about to drop on you, what could possibly be so important for you to have to reschedule one of the biggest meetings of your career. They would understand, you’re sure.

You hope, anyway.

“Who is it?” Your tone is already filled with dread, but a resigned kind of dread, knowing that whatever it must be, it has to be big, and you’re the only one in this entire fucking firm who can handle big things like this – it was the reason they wanted you for partner in the first place.

But Neisha hesitates with this response, scratches the back of her neck in a way that makes you instantly curious.

“I…I was instructed not to say, just that you’ve been requested to meet with them regarding representation.” She tells you, and now your headache pounds even harder.

Clients didn’t withhold their identity from you; some used an alias of course, but you can’t say that so far in your career you’ve had a completely anonymous client. Whoever this person was, had to either be royalty, or something very very close.

And though that meant there was going to be a nightmare of a trial – because these high profile people almost never got to simple settle, not when the prosecutor wants to make a show of prosecuting them – you can’t help but think that would be a pretty good notch in your beltloop, as it were.

“Alright, where are they?” You’re already up and away from your desk, shuffling the case files into a locked cabinet.

“Rikers.” She says straight away, and you let out a groan.

“Of course they are.”

You had almost hoped that whoever this mystery client was, they had posted bail and could meet at a nice neutral location. You didn’t have anything against Rikers personally, but rather the entire prison industrial complex as a whole, and as far as New York prisons went, there were few more infamous for being unnecessarily brutal than Rikers Island.

“I can call them back and tell them you’re busy…but they sounded adamant about wanting you in particular.” Neisha nudges gently, and really there’s no need to butter you up, you’ve already made up your mind.

“I’m guessing they didn’t tell you why?” You ask, even though you know the answer.

“Correct.” She replies with a sheepish shrug.

You look at her, at your watch, at your phone screen which shows no new notifications from the last time that you checked it, and you square your shoulders.  

“Alright, reschedule the eleven o’clock, and let’s get out of here before Holdo freaks the fuck out on me for that.” You say, grabbing your coffee and a few more of the pastries to take in the car with you for the drive.

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

Most times, you have no problem taking the subway wherever you need to get, but visiting Rikers wasn’t as easy as hopping off the train and walking a couple blocks. For times like these, you and Neisha take one of the company cars, a sleek and shiny black thing with dark tinted windows. Cars really aren’t practical in the city, which is why you don’t have one of your own, but it was nice to be driven around from time to time in the peace and quiet of a car like this.

Normally, visitors are not allowed on Mondays or Tuesdays, but you’re not a normal person, and you’re not here for a normal visit, so once you pass through the security gate, the K-9 unit and the metal detector security tests with ease, you find it a pretty quiet lobby.

“Good afternoon Ms. (L/N), here on official duty?” One of the correctional officers that sits up by the front visitation desk beams at you.

“No, I just missed you Jake.” You reply, fishing out your identification for him even though he really doesn’t need it. Jake has worked there only a year or so, and every time you see him you can’t help but think he’s young, too young for this job, you think, too young to become desensitized to the humanity of incarcerated individuals. But that’s not a conversation that you’re here to have today, so instead you keep up the chitchat with, “How’s Lottie and the kids?”

“They’re good, who are you here for?” Jake asks as a matter of protocol, and you give Neisha a look, before looking back at him.

“That’s just the thing, I don’t know. I wasn’t informed for confidentiality reasons.” You try to explain, before leaning forward and mock-whispering to him, “Please tell me someone has me on the list and I didn’t drive all this way for nothing.”

Jake laughs, a sound that feels out of place in a place like this, and pulls something up on his computer. You can’t really see it, the list, and that’s okay. Whoever this mysterious person is, you’ll find out within just a few minutes.

“You know the drill, they’re waiting for you in the back.” Jake waves you off, and you’re glad to go.

“Wait out here.” You tell Neisha, who clearly looks uncomfortable even being in the lobby, and with good reason. She doesn’t argue you on that, instead takes a seat on a bench near Jake’s table, and the two of them get to chatting while your boots click on the floors as you walk away.

There’s a couple different visitation areas in the jail, and the deeper into the building you go, the more that you’re glad that visitation isn’t allowed on Mondays. You don’t want the chance of running into someone that you had failed. Granted there had only been a handful of those instances, but the thought of any one of them being here is not outside the realm of possibility.

Through the sea of empty tables and chairs that are reserved for long term inmates who happen to have visitation privileges for good behavior, you find yourself moving deeper and deeper, until you’re at the door of another room, a closed off one more typical to that seen in movies and television shows.

Opening the door, you hang in the hallway to confirm that there’s no one else there, as there shouldn’t be. There’s eight stations, four on each side of the small room, with a phone and a pane of bulletproof glass. Right away, you have a feeling this is going to be a murder trial, if they’re not even letting you meet with the client out in the open, if they’re monitoring the phone conversation that you’re about to have.

You see a shuffle of movement out of the corner of your eye, and assume that that’s who you’re here to meet, so with your chin held high, you step into the room, and make your way to the visitation booth where a man in a bright orange jumpsuit is waiting on the other side of the glass.

Stopping as quickly as you’ve started, you stand frozen in the middle of the room, blinking away and desperately shoving aside a wave of feelings that have crashed over you at the familiar face behind the glass.

The dark hair, the deep eyes, that proud nose, those full lips, you take it all in with some strange sense of disbelief – surely this must be a dream? It has to be, even as you sit on the little stool and yank the phone off the wall, shoving it against your ear, not even knowing where to start as you try to wrap your mind around the fact that the man, this mystery client…

“Hey sweetheart.” He says, and you could smack him upside the head if only there weren’t this glass between you and Kylo Ren.

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

Tagging some pals, please let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off the taglist! @safarigirlsp​ @steeevienicks​ @mochabucky​ @sacklerscumrag​ @artsymaddie​ @bitchydecisions​ @direnightshade​ @reyloaddict55​ @kylorenswhxre​ @sunflowersinthesnow​ @mousemakingjam @the-unmanaged-mischief​ @drake-bells-waxed-penis @littleevilme13 @rennaissance-mama @materialisthicc​ 

[liquid-luck-00]

Consolation + The “Talk”

Bio!Dad Bruce

Day 9: Consolation and Day 10: The “Talk”

@biodad-bruce-month 

Ao3 ~~~ First ~~~ Previous ~~~ Next

This got a little long, sorry not sorry

~~~~~~~~~~

One week, one week has passed since Damian started school in Paris. One week since the tower of lies that Lila has built began to crumble and fall. 

By the beginning of the next day she had backed off all her lies about the Wayne family but she just re-doubled all her efforts on lies that included Prince Ali, Clara Nightingale, and Jagged Stone. But the tower she had built was going to fall. 

And Damian was ready to bring an end to this liar’s reign.

So you can trust that he would find a way to avenge his sister without the use of violence against her, especially in Paris, and especially knowing his father’s mantra of vengeance not revenge. But revenge is needed. So, Damian made a few phone calls. Over the course of the next week he would have enough video and audio evidence to prove his little sister is innocent. But what would really put the icing on the cake is if he could convince the principal to hold a career day or week. Granted it shouldn’t be too hard, he is the only blood son of Bruce Wayne after all. So, telling his sister that he would meet her after fencing practice he went off early in search of principal Damocles. He found the man quite simply and was it far too easy to convince the man to go to career day parents of the students will be able to come in to do you demonstrations or speeches as well as anyone else who they would like to invite.

---

Damian left for his fencing practice which left me packing up my things getting ready to leave. I was one of the last ones out so of course something had to happen. Adrien came up to me then “hey Mari can we talk.”

‘Sigh’ “If this is about the highroad again Adrien. Her lies are hurting people it doesn’t matter if you think it’s right, she’s hurting people’s futures their chances it…” He cut her off, great this is going wonderfully.

“It’s not that, well it is that but that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.” He was stumbling over his words and she softened her expression slightly “Marinette what’s the difference between infatuation and love?”

“What?” That was not what she was expecting. This is confusing, and where was this coming from anyways. Never mind why “can you explain it to me more I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around the question.”

He had sheepish smile and started “I. I love ladybug but I’m not sure if I love her or what she represents more”

“You don’t know if you like the idea of her more than the person who she is?” Marinette asked him seeming to understand where this conversation was going. 

“before we go even further down this rabbit hole, Adrien why don’t we meet up somewhere more private”

“why? “

Marinette simply pointed towards the door “We seem to have gained an audience”          

There at the door was Alya filming but unknown to her someone else was behind her. “Bean we have to go” Alya you jumped at the sound of Tim’s voice.

“OK Tim I’ll be out just give me a minute,” Tim nodded and left Alya having scurried off when she was found out. “I’ll text you place and time to meet up and talk further that is if you’re still confused about your feelings about this girl”

“Sounds good and thank you Marinette” he whispered as she left the room. Once she got to the car she glanced at him oh no, was the only thing that went through her mind “you look like a cat who ate the canary Tim spill” she was moving in to tickle him to get the info out. “Fine, fine, fine I give I’ll tell, but” she shot him a look. “only if you make me some coffee, today feels like an all-nighter”

“Deal! Now spill”

“Damian set up that next week there is going to be career days for the entire week at the school.”

“Okay” she nodded her head understanding where her brothers’ train of thoughts were heading. “The career week will be the perfect opportunity to expose the rest of Lila’s lies. At least that’s what you and Damian are hoping to accomplish isn’t it.”

“Mari, you do know you’re my favorite sister” Tim replied with a smirk that would rival even Damian’s.

So, the two of them got to work. Damian may think he’s clever and the most discrete out of everyone, but he wasn’t able to pull off hiding the cameras and microphones well enough that Mari wasn’t able to figure it out. This means they are going to have plenty of video and audio evidence use against the liar.

Now when Damian got home from practice the three of them really set out to destroy the liar. With all the audio evidence as well as the footage proving it was Lila speaking Marinette made several phone calls.

Jagged and Clara were both on board completely and wholeheartedly, especially after hearing what was going on. With those two she called the principal and he had agreed to keep them as a special surprise for the last day.

She called her father and he was willing to fly out to speak on one of the first days. Her father also happened to be able to get into contact with Prince Ali, and once hearing of everything that was going on, he to agree to come and speak.

Damian had called the Kent’s so Lois Lane, Clark and, and Jon were all going to come to speak, well Lois Lane in Clark were going to speak, Jon was coming to hang out with his two best friends.

Once Mr. Kent heard it was going on well it wasn’t long afterwards for Barry Allen to come to speak about forensics science, Oliver Queen to speak further on different aspects of business, and several other members of the league who seem to have fallen in love with Mari.

Everyone knew that as soon as Lila saw the names on the list, she would be tempted to spread the lies about every single one of them, so they would continue to record everything that was said in the class.

And who’s to say that a couple of the heroes may or may not make an appearance was well, but it was to be determined if Lila lied about them or not. Within the hour the three Wayne siblings knew, oh they knew this liar would not have a chance to escape. And anyone left believing her by the end of the week, well they felt sorry for those poor souls who still believe her every word.

---

After about two hours getting our allies ready for the incoming slaughter of the liar I met up with Adrien. And that was different.

“Mari” Adrien seem unsure of how to start. We had we decided it would’ve been best to meet up at the Wayne Enterprises Paris branch that way we can have a conference room to discuss it somewhere private, I won’t have to worry about people eavesdropping. Well everyone except for my brothers but it’s a price I’m willing to pay. “This is the first crush I’ve ever had, I, I don’t know…”

“Adrien I’ve known you now for about a year. You are quite honestly still sheltered. Well that’s the best way I can describe it.”

“What I’m not! I’m no?” Adrien began to stutter because that was not where the conversation was originally going.

“Adrien you are still quite sheltered. The way you think things should be handles when it comes to lies or personal space is the same way that people deal with the paparazzi and those are not the same at all. But I’m saying that because it’s normal to be confused when it comes to a crush. I had a crush on you for the longest time and was unsure how to act on it. I got to know about you a bit more and the crush well it changed.” He was looking at me shocked by my proclamation.

“How? Why? What are you mean? I’m not.” Adrien seemed a little taken back before he finally decided what he was going to say. “You said had?”

“I had the biggest crush on you until I learned you were a coward, or what seemed like cowardace. You decided that someone you didn’t know was more important than the person you claim to be a friend. This past week has shown me that you are a pacifist, not a coward, but you strive for peace with everyone. but that’s not how everything goes. I learned that about you that’s what made me move on. So what is it about this girl that makes you stay or is there something about someone else who makes you want to stay with them instead?“ He was silent he wasn’t staring at me, but he was starting off into space. He seemed to not know exactly what to say, but the thought was there. 

“Ladybug she’s my…” He was about to say something but stopped himself, almost as if he knows her as more than just the heroine. But that is not possible the only ones who interact with her while in the mask are now her family and…

“Your Chat Noir” she said it’s so calmly and as such a fact that he just stared at her calm and unblinking until the inevitable freak out which cost him to pass out. Great now she’s stuck at a conference room trying to revive her partner who doesn’t know she’s his partner. Once he finally came to, she just watched as it to make sure he wasn’t about to faint again.

“I’m not! I can’t be! I’m not superhero, that’s crazy Mari your” he was rambling. In the past month she has perfected the Batman Glare and well Adrien was getting it, because she was not believing the bullshit that was coming out of his mouth.

“Are you paws-itively certain about that Chat.” He went silent, but doesn’t know if it was because of the pun or because she called him Chat.

“How?” Adrien whispered to her.

“Well I figured it out since it seemed like you knew Ladybug more than just a hero.” She stated hoping that her identity was not compromised. “anyways Ladybug’s your partner but what were you going to say afterwards”

“she’s my partner and my best friend. She’s the person who may know me the best out of everyone, except I think that goes to you now” he began to chuckle, but it evolved into full-blown laughter and Mari couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“You know it makes a lot of sense of your Chat. Chat is always carefree and bubbly, but he always makes sure to keep it professional. Sure, flirting in the middle of the battle isn’t the best. But knowing Adrien and Chat Noir are the same person makes the whole so much more. What’s the word complete” she muses tapping her chin.

“Ladybug is the hero Paris deserves. But I don’t think I love her. I thought I did. I thought about this a lot, I love that when I was with her, I was free. I don’t know the girl underneath the mask. But I do you know the girl beneath the mask is strong and courageous. She is undoubtably amazing. But maybe you are figuring out my identity snapped things into focus, because I love the way I feel around her. But I also love the way I feel about my friends. Thank you, Mari.”

“For what I haven’t said anything this was all you.”

“Exactly, I needed someone to hear me, and not force me into a conclusion they thought was best. And at this point you are my first true friend. Can we. Can we be friends again Marinette?”

Mari looked at him for a second and then broke into a smile. “Of course, Adrien we’re friends”

“Good now let’s bring down a liar”

---

Of course the week leading up to career week was unexpectedly full of lies, all coming out of the Italians mouth. Oh, Barry Allen yeah she met him on Central city oh Oliver Queen she once saw him at a charity event in Star City oh she’s practically Lois Lane and Clark Kent‘s daughter, Jonathan their son, is her best friend. The list goes on and on. Everyone on the left side excluding Adrien do believe every word that came out of her mouth. The three in the very back on the right side, being herself, Damian, and Chloe couldn’t contain their laughter. This usually resulted in a Alya yelling at them from laughing that of course Lila wouldn’t be lying and then defending Lila as she began to cry her crocodile tears.

The entire school was informed that the entirety of career week was mandatory and missing a single speaker would be equivalent to failing a midterm for and class, meaning there was no skipping at all.        

 Monday

Today there were three guest speakers, them being Bruce Wayne, Prince Ali, and John Stewart.

Prince Ali was the first to go up go up and just let’s just say that many people we surprised that he did not do go green charities but in fact did children’s charities called a few things in the question specifically from Rose and Mylene.

Luckily for Lila she didn’t lie much about John Stewart, who spoke of his time as a marine and about currently being an architect, but that was a short-lived victory on her part, when he showed up as the final school guest at the end of the day as Green Lantern. He gave her a speech about honesty and the importance of discipline and hard work in order to succeed.

Bruce spoke about honesty and a hard work when building a company as well as the importance of working with reputable companies and brands.

At the end of the day she had two ceases and desists, one from Prince Ali and one from the Wayne family.

On the bright side a new Wayne charity was in the works alongside Prince Ali for children’s medicine.

 Tuesday

Was Barry Allen who spoke about pursuing forensic sciences and the work he does alongside the police.  

Wonder Woman who was speaking as an ambassador of Themyscira, and way at being an ambassador entailed. 

And Mayor Bourgeois spoke on what it means to be a part of the political and legislative sectors of the government.

Again, Lila received two cease and desists from Barry Allen and Wonder Woman respectively.

 Wednesday

Went similar to the previous two. Oliver Queen spoke about ways to modify businesses and expanding them in order to change with consumers.

Wang Cheng, Marinette’s uncle, spoke and gave a demonstration of cooking techniques for the school.

Tomoe Tsurugi, Kagami’s mother, spoke about fencing and also about ableism against disability, mainly that even being blind she can hand many fencers their asses without breaking a sweat.

Lila only received one cease and desist.

 Thursday

Nora, Alya’s sister, spoke of being a professional boxer and the training she does for it.

Lois and Clark gave a joint presentation, and of course Alya wanted her idols to review her blog. And well that did not go so well for her, Lois tore her interviews with Lila apart stating she gives no further evidence and simply takes what the girl says at face value. However other interviews she did provide more links to her information which prove she is a capable journalist, but there is room to grow.

The Kent’s also presented Lila a cease and desist, luckily for Alya she hadn’t posted anything in the past two weeks since Marinette’s return about anything Lila had said, and she was glad for that right now.

 Friday

Jagged Stone and Clara started Friday with a mini concert, that included a special duet with the two artists. Jagged spoke about Rock’n Roll and the changes and subcategories of the genre.

Clara Nightingale spoke on the pop side of the music industry and how she got started at a young age, as well as her background in dance and choreography.

Gabriel Agreste was the final speaker, we’ll he was on video call actually, and spoke on the fashion industry, the standards that come with the consumer market, and the way public opinion shapes brands and companies.

Gabriel was about to log off when Jagged walked in front of the camera.

“Too true Agreste, public opinion does shape the way many of those who have spoken this past week” many don’t know this about Jagged but mess with his family and he will not hold back. “That is why you should know, your model, Lila Rossi has had a total six cease and desists field against her this past week. As un-Rock’n roll as it is Clara and I will be adding two more to that list. I will also be suing for defamation of character as well. Clara?”

“Lies and cheats, make for poor feats. I will also be suing as well for defamation of character. This has made me so mad I can’t even come up with a rhyme.” She called out to the crowd.

“So Agreste, how will your totally not Rock’n Roll model affect your business?” Jagged asked. Everyone was watching the screen for Gabriel’s reaction.

“It would seem it is best we terminated contact Miss Rossi. Also, Adrien.” The poor boy practically jumped in his seat.

“Yes”

“There will be no contact between you and Miss Rossi until we are able to discuss this further. Goodbye”

The entire school was in a shocked silence. This final day as set up so the whole school would see it altogether.

Lila began to cry until she became furious. She jumped from her seat and yelled. “You did this! You set me up! You ruined my entire empire Marinette!” She was glaring daggers at me.

“If it’s any consolation to you Lila you made me miserable for eight months. You took my friends, those I’ve known since I was practically in diapers. You made my life hell and if that’s consolation to you fine. I will also be suing you for slander and defamation of character. But just know this I have people who genuinely care for me and I’m sorry if you felt threatened by me to blame all this on me, but I don’t care about your opinion or the opinion of those who turned on me without batting an eye not anymore.” It’s so liberating to say that to them. Oh, a weight has been lifted off my chest and so I walked out of the school side-by-side with Damian, Adrien, and Chloe with my head held high. And for the first time and I can’t remember when I could breathe. They weren’t going to hold me down any longer.

~~~~~~~~~~

Just for to clear this up Marinette is the youngest out of all the children. She and Damian are the same age but he is older by a few months.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

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[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Twenty Two | Another Medium (Part 2 of 4)

[First] | [Previous] | [Next]

"Hurry, ren. We're gonna be late!"

You smile down at Frisk and watch as they tug at the edge of your shirt to try pulling you along with them.

The door's left open, and even though those meant to pick you up for the event aren't here yet, they still urge you to go outside and wait.

"It's only seven, honey." Your thoughts drift back to your video call and Sans's most recent text message, letting you know half an hour later that he'd be here soon. "We've got a few minutes left." You grab their hand and put a stop to their energy, facing their eyes. "Are you that excited about starting school?"

They nod and grin wide. "Even more, if you're gonna be working there, too!"

Your smile falls as you remember the folder Sans had given you. It had been thrown into the farthest corner of your bookshelf that same day, and you'd been too reluctant to look at it any more ever since. You didn't want to take their kindness and help for granted, just as much as you didn't want to forget about your reasons for learning more about monsters. Your godmother was right in terms of you needing to understand them more, so you've established it upon yourself to bring that up during your first, official date night with the skeleton. Understanding the changes being made to the Underground could aid you with the slim chance of finding a way to either halt or delay it from becoming a big tourist attraction, and you could finally be more clear and upfront about your feelings related to the dream -- even if all of that was easier said than done. Not only had you crossed far too many boundaries with him already, but you were still keeping your dubious relationship with him, all while continuing to be wary of him and everyone else for their past. The subtle but no less irate light to his gaze when having your aunt bring up the the Judgement Hall had been more than sufficient for you to try something -- or at least, assist him and every other monster with that process.

In short, hypocrisy's absorbing you bit by bit, and today's your very first attempt at trying to break free from that. Whether you succeed or not doesn't matter. Giving it a shot, on the contrary, does. Even the slightest amount of closure achieved with your research could help in setting your thoughts straight, and -- perhaps -- to finally stop yourself from comparing monsterkind with Jerry.

To put it this way: you couldn't allow yourself one thing if you were allowing the other to continue happening.

After all, why were you willing to engage in a relationship with someone like Sans, when you were still far from forgiving and much less forgetting Jerry over abandoning Frisk for so many years?

Why were you willing to befriend someone like Alphys, who'd been close to ending up in jail due to the failed experiments made on those of her own kind?

Why were you willing to book a night at Mettaton's hotel, knowing he'd once set Frisk into danger greater than any other monster you knew had -- Undyne being a close second?

Even someone like Papyrus brought harm to them once!

"Ren," Frisk calls out, tugging your hand. "You look angry. Are... Are you okay?"

You nod and let out a breath, composing yourself. "I'm fine, honey."

"Are you still thinking about avenging me?"

Your eyes shoot wide open at that, and you can't avoid suspecting they might have the capability of reading your mind.

Regardless of their word choice, you were -- in a sense -- wanting to avenge them from anyone who'd once caused them harm, be it Jerry, the monsters, or the loud and nosy neighbour from next door wondering why Frisk enjoyed playing with action figures just as much as they did playing with princesses.

"Ren!"

Hearing their whine of concern, you snap out of it and look down to see they've let go of your hand, both their arms now outstretched and in wait for your embrace.

"Do you want a hug?"

Your smile returns at that, albeit a bit more melancholic compared to the first time. You get down to their height and pull them in for a hug, sighing when you have them safe in your hold; it feels right to have them close and in your care, no matter how much your mind insists otherwise. The question you brought up back at the Judgement Hall still feels like the most subconscious part of your mind had possessed you, insisting you turn back to how you used to be after Frisk's fall.

"You don't need to protect me that much!" they say, letting go. "I... I know all the monsters well, so I'd tell you if any one of them's bugging me. You don't need to hate them for my sake, and you don't have to compare them to dad, either." Without a doubt, if humans still had the capability of using magic and spells, you would label them a mind reader. "You should get to know them on your own first, and not just based on who they are to me. Because if that's really all up to me, then the only one I don't really like much is..."

At that, they stop; they bring a finger to their chin and tap it twice, delving deep in their thoughts along the way.

"Huh..." Frisk taps their chin again and their gaze turns furrowed, scrunching up the more they think about it. "I mean, I don't really know if I dislike any of them... I just know I wanna have friends!"

You're compelled -- if not, urged -- to argue against that, though your heart stops you from spilling any of those thoughts out. Still, your mind attempts to push through it. Personal feelings couldn't cloud your judgement, if that meant it could bring harm to your child.

"Even if they-"

Hearing the engine rumbling as Papyrus parks close by the sidewalk is a blessing in and of itself; the aforementioned date night with his brother can't get here any sooner. You need to sort your thoughts out once and for all. Almost half a year of waltzing with the seemingly never-ending issue of Frisk's journey and the bonds they made through it was far too much. If you were slowly making friends with those same people too, then you needed to stop this at once. No matter how much you wanted to avoid said confrontation, that had to be done -- for both CPS and reasons beyond.

"You're right." You huff, bring a hand to your forehead, and go lower to massage the brim of your nose. Not a moment after, you fix your glasses, look back to their side, and form a smile. "Thank you, dear."

• • •

You close your eyes just before the monster presses a damp cotton ball to your wound.

Isopropyl makes it sting immediately, yet you're too busy with your thoughts to care about it that much.

"You okay?" Sans asks, meeting your eyes when you open them. "You've been quiet since we got 'ere."

"I'm okay, but..." You think back to how you greeted him with a wave, right as you did with his brother. While the monster before you didn't seem to mind it, you can't avoid the thought of how you used to be with Jerry. It was easier to be more affectionate back then, and it was easier still greeting him with a kiss -- be it a simple one on the cheek or a quick one on the lips. Now, you can't so much as imagine the prospect of doing that with your new partner without overthinking or feeling stressed about it. "I was wondering if we... if we should maybe keep our relationship private -- f- for now?"

He finishes wrapping the bandages and fixes them tight before replying with, "That's fine with me. Did you watch the video?"

"No, I'm..." You grow short of breath at the thought of how many people have likely seen it by now -- how many times it's been shared, and how many more discussions and heated arguments have revolved around it. "I'm too scared to."

You can't bring yourself to look at him any longer, so his expression falls unknown as he suggests watching it together, a question you answer to with a quiet and mumbled 'sure'.

Sans proceeds with a nod and stores all the items used back into the first aid kit before taking out his phone, settling down in bed, and holding your hand with his free one. "Really sure?" he asks, squeezing it once. You reply with an even quieter 'yes' and watch in silence as he clicks on the link sent by what you assume is several people, based on how Undyne, Brenda, and even the man from the train station -- now his friend and your co-worker -- have messaged him the same information, all three left unread. The one he chooses is farther back and dated with yesterday, this one sent by Jerry.

It plays in an instant and the first thing to appear is Asgore's garden, while murmurs are what compose the audio as the one filming shows himself around a field of trampled flowers, these now a mess of broken pots, thrashed earth, and missing rocks. A few others make him company and engage in small talk, though it ends quickly when one of them shouts for everyone to 'get over here quick'. The group does as told, leading for the cameraman to rush along with them out of the garden and into the Judgement Hall. The audio grows quiet as he ventures further, steps and voices now discreet as he films a fuzzy image of two people sitting at one of the benches laid around, with the exception that one sits on top and has their arms wrapped firm and tight around the other. Multiple people urge the cameraman to approach the scene more, making him show you and Sans kissing, albeit of a blurry quality with how much he has to zoom in so as to not be caught. Even the noise is recorded with how silent everything else is, this one mostly composed of hitched breaths and clothing shuffling against each other as you hug him closer. Thankfully, no kissing noises are recorded, something you assume is due to him having a shapeable skull rather than lips, along with how slow and careful your actions are.

The video ends when the kiss does, and it leaves you in the same silence created right before clicking on it.

Regardless, Sans opens up the page it was posted on to reveal more information about the creator.

'Am I the only one who sees something wrong with this stuff? This is the future that awaits us, if we continue to act as if we can live peacefully with these people. Opposing these changes is necessary, if we wish to keep our normalcy. Casual make outs with a being so far from human shouldn't be the norm of our world', reads the caption.

Below, some of the replies read from ones saying the poster isn't the only one who shares those thoughts, to ones who've taken the time to write an entire paragraph about the situation.

'🤢🤮'

'Absolutely not.'

'No, you're not. This is outright hideous.'

'Click here to see my 👄 HOT 🔥 noods 🍝: www.uhohspaghettios.xd'

'Wow, this is just like 1984.'

'Next thing you know, we'll be the ones living in the Underground.'

'I need eye bleach ASAP!!! 😱'

'Yeah, no. Hard pass on whatever the hell I just watched. Why did you even film this?'

'That skeleman is nothing but a closeted cradle-robber. Anyone who's met (Y/N) knows how naïve and childish they are, and them dating someone like that screams bad news. Forget that he's a monster, people! What's more important here's how he's got a liking for them despite that gap -- both mentally AND physically. He should be ashamed for bringing their reputation even further down with this video. At this point, I have trouble believing they'll ever recover from all this.'

'...Ok, but...... Am I the only one who finds this kinda.................. Hot? 👀💦'

'Of course, even a monster would try to have his way with someone like them. Look at how they're dressed!'

'To be fair, you have to have a very high IQ to understand how wrong this stuff is. The degeneracy infesting the Surface nowadays is extremely subtle, and without a solid knowledge of social sciences, most of the immorality will go over a typical person's head. There's also the skeleton's nihilistic outlook, which is deftly woven into his characterisation -- his personal philosophy draws heavily from George Orwell literature, for instance. People like us understand this stuff; we have the intellectual capacity to truly appreciate the depths of these social rejects, to realise that they're not just ridiculous -- they say something deep about LIFE and SOCIETY. As a consequence, people who see nothing wrong with this truly ARE idiots -- of course they wouldn't appreciate, for instance, the humour in the skeleton's existential catchphrase "Genocide is wrong", which itself is a cryptic reference to Er*n Yeag*r from Att*ck on Tit*n. I'm smirking right now, just imagining one of those addlepated simpletons scratching their heads in confusion as our fight against this backwards evolution unfolds itself on their phone screens. What fools... How I pity anyone who disagrees with you and tries to defend this behaviour. 😂'

At the bottom of it all, a neglected comment reads:

'Not only are you and your companions trespassing in an unsafe location, but your recording shows clear evidence you were damaging former King Asgore Dreemurr's property. You have also chosen to film these people without their knowledge despite them being in a private area, and uploaded the footage to a massive social media platform, as well. This is punishable by law, and I will not hesitate to stand for these people, if they decide to file a lawsuit against you.'

What stands out the most goes beyond the commenter's name, as his profile picture is what captures your attention first, regardless of how well-dressed he appears in the image and how small it is without clicking on it. Sans seems to share the same thought as you, as he clicks on the man's account without thinking twice. It takes some time to load, but when it does, your mouth gapes and you find yourself at a complete loss for words.

'Gerardo "Jerry" Gonzalez Gutierrez del Valle. Family practice lawyer since 20XX. Co-founder of the first Alcohol and Smoking Helpline for monsters. Former quarterback for Ebott U's Football League,' his bio reads.

You're overcome by what feels like an hour of silence before you can process what you've read. The age-old experience of reviewing material from your textbook at three thirty in the morning arrives when you try to read through his profile a second time, then a third. Even his pictures are difficult to process, these a variety of him posing with his co-workers at the newly-opened helpline building, screenshots of his progress with quitting alcohol and his strike of days and months sober, images of him in different suits, and -- last but not least -- a couple of Throwback Thursdays from his glory days, featuring both high school and college memories. It's hard to decide which feeling out of multiple is stronger than the rest, as jealousy combines with the slightest thing you expect out of this discovery: being reminded of the good ol' days. Guilt arrives next when growing aware of your current relationship with the one sitting next to you, even if it's only the thought of how happy you used to be with the man in those pictures before everything went haywire.

"You're... You're seeing this too, right?"

You hear him chuckle and see him agree with a nod, though you can't exactly fall back down to Earth again; were this a dream, you would accept it as such.

"Yeah." The monster looks you over once before adding, "And am I imagining it, or did I catch you smilin' at 'im just now?" He winks.

"So you're telling me you're really not surprised by this, at all?"

"...Touché."

You stand up and give your back to him, irked by his assumption despite him being nothing close to serious about it. "But, please don't think I still like him." Your hands turn into fists at the thought of going back with someone like him, no matter his current intentions. "I still haven't forgiven him, and I still..." Bile rises to your throat as your stomach churns wildly. "I still hate him." Then, you take a pause to gather strength. "And maybe that's a strong word, b- but... It's hard for me to forget that's the same man who once accused me for every little thing that wasn't 'normal' with Frisk, from them running away the first time, to them refusing to call him dad -- even when I never prevented them from visiting him, and e- even when he stopped visiting them first." Your chest shakes as you huff. "I... I still dislike him, and I really hate that I remembered good things about him just now."

Your mouth refuses to shut up and makes you continue on with, "So if I still can't forgive him, how can I make a decision for CPS with so many of you and in so short of a time? I still can't decide what to do, no... no matter how much I've learnt about everyone else." Your throat turns dry, and you find it difficult to swallow. "Hell, it was only yesterday I finally gave into one of my doubts. I thought it twice before asking if you wanted to kiss, but it'd been in my mind for a long while before that."

"You're sayin' the kiss was you decidin' to trust me?"

"Yes."

He scoots closer to your side and furrows his gaze.

"Even after that dream, and even though I started it?"

"Y... Yes." You do the same as him and smile. "I trust you, and... And I know the dream's likely just me overthinking this. One thing's spilling the truth when you're drunk, and one thing's getting... too caught up in your fears -- to the point where you have these warped dreams about someone else, no matter how much they mean to you."

His irises soften in their light, and a hint of culpability seems to fall on him. "Then I'm sorry for bringin' your ex into this." You sit back down with him and hold his hand again. "It wasn't right."

"It's okay."

"Doesn't look that way."

Before you know it, you're held by your lower back, pulled close, and brought down in bed.

He stays on top, gaze focused on yours rather than on your lips or anywhere else suggesting something more.

"Have you found that help yet? Counseling, I mean." His gaze remains the same despite having changed topics so abruptly. "How're ya doin', puddin'?"

"Bubbles and Brenda suggested two recently, but I... I still haven't gotten around to calling either one of them."

"Want me to make you company while you try that now? We've got time."

"...Kiss me first, please?"

He lowers more and presses his teeth to your neck.

"Gladly."

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[dear-yandere]

☽ darling, don’t leave me.

yandere! jojos + dio. general headcanons. tw: mentions of physical abuse, gaslighting, confinement, and noncon (dio’s part).

art credits: rosuto, ぴの, wW 武 Ww, unknown, suan, tumbleweed.

Jonathan Joestar is obsessive.

A true gentleman, Jonathan knows better than to let his feelings stray from his control. Still, he’s never been one to pursue love, so these feelings are entirely new. He courts his darling like any other self-respecting man of his time, allowing them the space to choose whether or not they desire him too. He doesn’t take being turned down personally as he’s perfectly content with merely being by his darling’s side. Even seeing them fall for another man is something he cannot force himself to intervene in; every smile and laugh not directed at him hurts far worse than any punch he’s ever received, but Jonathan thrives in seeing his darling happy and carefree.

Clingy as he may be, he isn’t above taking a few of darling’s possessions should the opportunity present itself. A head band or hair tie here or there, perhaps a pair of gloves or a hat his darling is sure to not miss — Jonathan is surprisingly adept and subtle at stealing and keeping these little trinkets. Darling may notice a few missing possessions, but it’s nothing Jonathan can’t laugh off as a misplaced item and easily replace with something new and extravagant. Money isn’t a problem, especially when it comes to his sweetheart. If it means they’ll stay by his side — or even look his way as more than a friend or confidant — he’ll give his darling the world.

Overbearing and well-meaning as he is, even gentleman aren’t without their flaws.

“You don’t have to feel the same. All I ask is that you don’t leave me.”

Joseph Joestar is protective with a hint of possessiveness.

Acting much more like an older brother rather than a lover — similar to his grandfather Jonathan — Joseph is hyper-aware of anyone that might hurt his sweetheart. He’s not sure how it came to be this way, really; it’s a first for him to not know even his own feelings. His darling is easy enough to read, and perhaps that’s what got him into this situation, where even the slightest brush of skin against his or the mere sound of them saying his name sends his nerves on edge. He likes the attention they give him when he acts like a brotherly figure; there’s no need to worry about unwanted feelings developing between the pair. At least, darling doesn’t have to worry, because Joseph falls in love despite his precautions. It isn’t until a competent rival appears that Joseph becomes rather intensely possessive and competitive — a rival like Caesar.

He hates losing, especially when he had his eyes set on the goal first. The moment a suave man like Caesar sets their sights on Joseph’s darling, he’ll turn snarky, snappy with even his darling. It’s a brutally stark contrast to the playful, chipper demeanor he usually bears, but it’s easy for darling to play it off as him having a bad day — until he doesn’t relent. His grip is harsher these days, his tone more grating and condescending whenever darling shows interest in his rival. At some point, he’ll lash out whenever they show interest in any man other than him.

If his insecurities and one-sided love are kept unchecked, he has no qualms with cutting his darling’s connection to anyone he deems a threat.

“Of course I’m jealous! You’re mine! You need me!”

Jotaro Kujo is manipulative with a hint of sadism and lucidity.

With a cool and collected exterior, it’s easy to convince his darling that everything they believe is wrong. Even a lionhearted lover will doubt themselves; or rather, Jotaro would seek an individual like this out. He’s used to women and men swooning over his good looks and alluring physique, though he doesn’t care much for the attention. Even when he degrades and admonishes his admirers, they fawn and swoon over him — it’s nothing short of disgusting, really. 

His ideal darling — the only type of person he’d seek out, rather than let come to him — is someone with a steel heart, someone hellbent on rejecting his words as law, someone who puts up a fight. Degrading and humiliating them will be a treat, a fun little challenge to come home to. He doesn’t want them to enjoy this in the slightest; he wants them to slowly break, to slowly doubt every piece of information they hear unless it comes from his mouth. Even the death of a loved one will seem surreal, exaggerated, fake unless he says so himself, and even then he won’t allow his darling that sort of luxury.

Once he’s tied his darling down (with a ring, and with ropes), they won’t see very much of him. As he pursues his career in Marine Biology, he’s often away on business trips, his only excuse for long periods of absence being “it’s too dangerous”, or some slew of insults thrown his darling’s way. He isn’t fond of divulging much of his personal life with them even if they are the love of his life; to him, secrets come hand-in-hand with relationships. Darling’s life is in danger simply by association; it’s best to act as if they don’t exist. Still, that doesn’t mean he’ll let them slip through his fingers. When he wants something, he’ll get it even if it’s eventual. 

Darling was doomed the moment he found an inkling of interest in taming them.

“Don’t look so scared when I’m around. I shouldn’t have to repeat myself.”

Josuke Higashikata is protective with a hint of delusion.

Sweet and compassionate as he may be, Josuke isn’t immune to feelings of inadequacy, jealousy, and obsession. He rationalizes these feelings as merely being protective of a good friend of his, but it’s not until his friends point out that what he’s feeling is love that he truly understands why his heart pitters and patters like raindrops when his darling’s around. He completely understands if darling doesn’t return his feelings — these things take time, he’ll say — but he doesn’t take kindly to jealousy of any sort. A mere mention of liking someone else will have him moping and distancing himself, but he’ll stay around just enough to ensure his beloved’s protection.

Josuke wouldn’t fare well with a darling who’s familiar with getting under his skin. Even an insult or two to his hair isn’t enough for Josuke to give up on his one-sided love; if anything, it’s an opportunity. Crazy Diamond has the power to heal after all, and when Josuke’s emotions run away from him, his darling may end up with more than a few cuts and bruises. Bones will be shattered, blood will be spilled, and apologies will fumble past trembling lips as darling’s abuser fixes them up — as if nothing ever happened. The only trace of evidence are the tears in Josuke’s eyes and the excuses on his lips — this easily becomes the norm. Both he and his darling will constantly tread along eggshells, the former worrying that his actions destroyed any chance of a relationship and the latter worrying the next time they step out of line, they’ll die.

But Josuke wouldn’t let his sweetheart die, no. He can heal whatever wounds they may receive, even its its from him. He’s a platonic yandere, at worst, and an overbearingly violent one at best. 

“Please don’t scream. People will think I did something terrible to you.”

Giorno Giovanna is manipulative with a hint of protectiveness and lucidity.

This soldato is cunning and intuitive, a natural-born leader with charisma rivaling his true father’s. He turns heads wherever he goes, inspires everyone he meets — it’s almost laughable how easy it is to twine people around his fingers. As a mere Passione soldato, he isn’t much threat to his darling, but as don, any hope of escaping his suffocating love is slashed. His control reaches farther than his darling can ever tread, and although he understands why his little coccinella would go so far as to run away, the thought of being without them is inconceivable. How can he protect them if they’re not at his side? Without him, darling could fall in love with the wrong person, someone who wears a mask and will hurt them once they’ve settled down together; without him, darling could fall in love with a monster. His step-father was like that, and he’d made Giorno’s childhood a living hell. So how could he let his darling tread that same path?

With a well-behaved darling, the don is a fairly normal lover... once they get past all the bodyguards and paranoia-filled lifestyle. Unlike his father, Giorno is not sadistic in the slightest; rather, seeing his darling in physical or emotional turmoil hurts him. He’s more apt to manipulate them in subtle, gentler ways rather than through brute force or threats. After giving them a new identity, he’ll keep them someplace safe, a private island off the coasts of Italy, somewhere heavily guarded and devoid of life except for his beloved and their bodyguards. It’ll be lonely, he’s sure, so he’s certain to visit whenever he has an ounce of free time. But even he can’t replace one’s need to feel social, safe, normal. That’s just the price his lover has to pay as the future spouse of a mafioso.

If he lived a different life, there’d be no need for all of this. Giorno’s love is bittersweet at best, but that realization isn’t enough to let his darling go. They need him, perhaps just as much as he needs them.

“I really can’t take it when you cry like that… smile for me, alright? You’re so pretty when you smile.”

DIO is sadistic, manipulative, and possessive.

Love has never done much for him, not in the way feeling powerful has. He prefers ruling over others rather than giving someone the ability to rule with or over him. His darling is nothing more than a plaything, at best — something to pass the time, something to sate his curiosity. Just how far can he push them before they crumble between his fingers and shatter like a precious gemstone? He takes pleasure in testing these boundaries, humiliating his darling as if that will help him understand this odd feeling humans call love. It’s possible for him to truly fall in love with his darling, but they will never take priority over his desire to end the Joestar bloodline. Perhaps, once he accomplishes this goal, his darling will be something nice to come back to, something stagnant and forever his.

He’ll go to lengths to break his darling, over and over again, see how much torture they can withstand before they realize that crying out or begging gets them nowhere. Will they hide their defiance under a facade of obedience, or will they truly break? It’s all an experiment to Dio, but either way, he’ll force them to be his little sex slave — sometimes, if they’ve behaved particularly nasty, darling will be the sex slave of his devoted followers, a little reward for being such wonderful subordinates. 

Apart from sexual torture, he’s keen on testing his darling on tidbits of information from the books he reads — completely mundane and often vague questions designed to make his little slave fail. It’s just a precursor, really, because he likes seeing them shine with determination only for it to shatter before their eyes. Punishments always follow, usually humiliation or sexual assault of some sort; though if he’s in a particularly bad mood, he won’t shy away from physically hurting his darling. All the better to break them with.

It’s a miracle if darling survives this little game of his, but if they do, he’s certain to keep them around for far longer than he originally anticipated. Being immortal can get so boring, you see, and what’s the fun of bottomless money and endless casual sex if he can’t keep an entertaining and worthy slave here or there?

“Tell me you love me as I fuck you into the mattress.”

[wevegottogetaway]

Crashing into you

Sooo, I have no idea where this concept came from but here is you and Harry surviving a plane crash only to find yourselves stranded on an island (featuring best friends to lovers and who knows what else). There is more to come after this part, I’m just really busy with uni at the moment, so smaller pieces at the time it is. Please leave some feedback if you have any, or tell me what you would like to see happen in future parts! Happy reading xx

It wasn’t supposed to happened.

None of it was. Not the birds. Not the fire. Not the nose-dive.

And you weren’t supposed to be there either. Weren’t supposed to find yourselves floating 35,000 feet over endless stretches of sea when it happened. Not you and certainly not Harry whose presence was only the result of his boundless generosity.

It was a last minute trip on your part, an emergency response to the calling of a friend back in London; they’d gotten hospitalized and you were their emergency contact, pretty simple maths. Your assistance was irremissible and since it was cutting your time short with Harry, he didn’t hesitate before offering both his support and an express flight aboard some kind of private jet. None of you knew it at the time, but that decision turned out to be a twisted expression of serendipity, a very sick jock that the universe wasn’t supposed to make.

Except it did happened and there was no escaping the cataclysm that ensued.

                                                        ***

The cabin of the small plane is plunged in peaceful silence, the deep whir of its engines and the soft snores wafting through Harry’s nose the only white noises filling the space. There is no fussing toddler, no businessman talking loudly on the phone, no arguing couple; just you and Harry, one flight attendant and two pilots. Everything around you looks pristine and expensive, from the champagne you were offered but declined at the beginning of the flight, to the refined suede upholstery covering all the seats.

You’re not used to the luxury, and frankly, neither is Harry.

He doesn’t use private planes very often, doesn’t think it makes much sense to waste all that toxic kerosene when commercial flights do the job perfectly, and doesn't like how they make him feel like the diva some people mistakenly make him out to be. But for you he’d bend the rules. For you he’d bend over and backwards to assuage any of your pains and worries. You had been so on edge when you told him about your friend, so desperate to be there for them,  he had just wanted to be there for you in turn.

That’s why the two of you hopped in this small aircraft nearly four hours ago, with his hand drawing comforting shapes on your back. Now, you find yourself absentmindedly nipping at your nails, overthinking ever possible scenario that could unfold once you land and find your friend. In deep conversation with your conscience, you’ve been looking out the small window to your right, as if any of the two blue immensities painting the horizon knew all the secrets that you needed. They don’t; if anything, they bring their own mysteries to an already confusing world.

The atmosphere inside the plane is so inert, it feels like someone pressed the pause button. The flight attendant has remained quietly by her station, waiting for any signal that would indicate her presence required, and the pilots haven’t piped a word since their polite ‘have a lovely flight,’ when you first boarded the plane. The little company wouldn’t bother you so much, if Harry hadn’t fallen asleep thirty minutes in, leaving you to your own devices. You figure you can’t be too grumpy about it though, he did just rent a plane for your sake after all. Plus, his unconscious state has allowed you to ogle his sleepy figure for hours without being noticed, a treat you’re rarely privy to on top of being a nice distraction from your current troublesome thoughts.

Three years. Three years you’ve been a very dedicated friend to him and he to you. Three years of holding each other’s hand through any hardships and laughing till you’re blue in the face; three years of always supporting each other in your craziest undertakings and inspiring each other to be the best version of yourselves. You two are an indestructible pair and your friendship is the purest, most sacred thing you were given in this world.

Except, it’s also been three years of mind-boggling and consuming feelings that can’t be quelled and have no limits. Three years of secret glances when he’s too focused on something else to notice. Three years of talking yourself down from those feeling, but to no avail; they keep coming back full force and with a vengeance. It quickly became a full time job really, an art you mastered over time. At first because he was happily in a relationship, so there was no speculating whether your affections could be returned. Then once that ended, you were already so wired to ignore the skip of your heartbeats when he looks at you tenderly, or the soft and sometimes borderline ambiguous cuddles he gives you when he’s had one too many Margaritas; that the fantasy of him loving you the way you do was just unfathomable, you never even considered speaking up about it.

But these were your three years, not his.

You let out a deep sigh, as your musings once again circle back to your unrequited love. You wish you had more control over them, could limit them to sleepy fabulation sweetening your mind right before you surrender to unconsciousness. But alas, them come and go as they please, slip into your mind at any inopportune time, often betraying you by pigmenting your cheeks in cerise-colored bashfulness. Even now, in the stillness of the pressurized cabin, as your eyes settle back on his slouched form in the seat opposite yours, your skin can’t help but heat up in fondness.

Before you can get too lost in the soft eyelashes caressing his cheekbones, or the cupid bow shaping his pink supple lips, or the way a few of his mischievous curls are dandling in front of his face, slightly fluttering at each soft puff coming out of his mouth…yeah, before you get too lost in all that, you reach for the small bottle of water sitting on a small table.

You barely have the cap unscrewed before a massive tremor shakes the whole aircraft, spilling half of the bottle’s content on your lap. Your hand immediately white knuckles the armrest of your seat, your eyes widening in fear and frantically scoping the cabin for the flight attendant or anyone that could tell you what the hell is going on. Then the panic pumping through your veins prompts you to check on Harry and wake him back to alertness, but to your relief, he’s already groggily shaking the slumber from his limbs with a deep frown on his face. "Wha’s goin’ on?"

If dread wasn’t firing each of your nerve-endings, you’d find his grumpy look and slurred speech quite adorable, but the sight of the frazzled-looking stewardess coming towards you is sending a different kind of chills down your spine. These people are trained to maintain composure in all circumstances, so her trepidation can only mean one of two things: she’s either very new at her job or there is clearly a cause for concern.

"You two need to fasten your seat belts immediately," she speaks hurriedly.

"Sophia, what’s going on?" Harry reiterates his question with more alarm.

"We’ve collided with a flock of birds. We don’t know the extent of the damage yet, so I need you two to buckle in."

You and Harry share a worried look then, still confused about the situation. The plane has regain some semblance of stability, it seems, but Sophia’s anxious behavior doesn’t sooth your nerves one bit. She makes a quick exit back toward the cockpit, probably to discuss the ordeal further with the pilots. You gulp your uneasiness away, fidgeting on your seat as your hands blindly feel around for the safety belt, but the image greeting your eyes as they veer back to the window has your heart dropping to your knees.

Lambent orange and red flaring from the engines and lapping at the wing. Black smoke leaving an angry trail behind the plane and fogging up the windows.

"Harry," you barely manage to breath his name out and the urgency of your tone has him straighten up in his seat. "Harry the wing is on fire." You twist your head back towards him only to find him jumping from his seat to plop down next to you. The absolute gleam of terror swimming in your eyes makes his blood turn cold, so he quickly takes your hand in both of his before glancing at the carnage taking place outside. He gulps in apprehension before buckling his seatbelt and checking that yours is clasped in as well.

"Fuck, okay, it’s okay, love. Everything’s gonna be okay." It’s more prayers than reassurances tumbling out of his mouth, squeezing at your hand in plea, and a couple seconds after his utterance the tremors resume with greater intensity. You both can feel the aircraft slanting downward as everything around you start shaking as though you were caught in an earthquake. Except, you couldn’t be further from earth at the moment, and the shaking is not going to just pass after a while.

Objects start falling and rolling down all over, the tray of complimentary drinks tumbling down from the back of the plane to crash at the front. You and Harry are wrapped up in a protective embrace, tucking your faces in each others neck to avoid impact and because you’re both too afraid to look at the unfurling chaos. You can feel your seatbelt straining against your lower belly in a dire attempt to keep you in one place, but as the plane starts plummeting for good, top becomes bottom, right becomes left, and your bodies become masses thrown around at the hands of gravity just like everything else.

The last thing you hear before everything goes south is a defeated ‘brace for impact’ coming from the small intercom of the cabin. You feel the brutal shock of the plane hitting smooth surface if it weren’t for the speed of the collision, and then it’s just water.

Water everywhere. Water enveloping your body in a frigid clutch, water weighing you down as it imbibes every fiber of your clothes, water invading your retinas and blurring your vision. Water seeping through your mouth, pouring into your lungs when you feel the skin at your shin torn by sharp metal.

You vaguely hear your name being shouted, but the shortage of oxygen in your system makes you feel delirious. At this point you barely have enough energy to fight unconsciousness, much less the threat of your crumbling surroundings. That’s how you don’t feel the hand grasping at your shoulder and hosting you up on a floating piece of broken wing. Harry is holding onto it for dear life as well, muttering more prayers and encouraging words for you to please stay with him but soon you are both overthrown by your unconscious, slowly drifting away on the makeshift buoy.

                                                        ***

When Harry regains consciousness, the first things he feels is hard grounds underneath him. His ears are ringing, his throat is sore and his mouth feels dry, not to mention the splitting headache jackhammering at his skull. Groaning and frowning at the pain, that’s when he realizes that the ground against the skin of his cheek isn’t completely hard, but rather granular at the touch. Slowly, he brings his hands higher near his face and flattens them to hoist himself up. Once on his knees, he finally blinks his eyes opened, squinting at the blinding luminosity of the sun. And then it’s just sand.

Sand everywhere. Sand stretching miles into the distance. Sand itching at the joints of his fingers, sand creeping inside his shoes and clothes, sand weaving through his hair. Sand obnoxiously lingering on his lips, and as he tries to brush it off with the back of his hand, he has to spit some out of his mouth after realizing that said hand is also covered in it.

How did he find himself stranded on a freaking island? How did this happen? How could he be one minute safely by your sides, helping you through a tough situation, and then the next, thrown into the deep end - quite literally - scrambling for his life because some dumb birds decided to crash in the engine of the plane? Why him, why-

It’s a jolt to his brain then, an electric shock firing his body up to a standing position when the thought of you clashes in his mind. His breathing picks up considerably as he recalls the last time he saw you, passed out on the broken part of the wrecked airplane. He’d passed out soon after you as well, but what had happened since then? Had you find your way on this desolate beach as well? Or had your unconscious body slipped back into the water and sank all the way to the ocean floor until you reached that hidden museum of all the things and beings that fell victim to the sea?

Harry shudders at the thought. No. He’s not loosing you, now or ever, he convinces himself as he frantically jogs along the beach. Not when he never got his chance. His heart is lodged in his throat and threatening to escape at every passing second. Not when he still has unfinished, or rather, un-commenced business with you. Sweat drips down his face in searing droplet, a faint sting above his left eye barely registering in his frantic mind. Not before you know his last secret. His breathing is starting to get scarce until finally, finally his blurry eyes fall upon a figure stretched out on the sand, waves still licking at their feet. His job turns into a sprint as he begs for them to be you and for you to still be alive, desperate cries of your name echoing in the wilderness. "Please be okay, please be okay, fuck I need y-"

His relief is short lived once he takes in your passed out form, the blueish hue of your lips and the very lack of movement of your chest, twisting his guts in a painful knot. Harry abruptly falls to his knees next to you and brings his ear to your body hoping for any indication that you are still breathing. He fights the onslaught of hyperventilation that threatens to take over his body when he finds none and quickly checks your pulse at your carotid. His eyes pinch in brief respite: it’s faint but it’s there.

His brain almost goes into overdrive as he tries to recall everything he knows about CPR before his hands instinctively start pressing at your chest as though they already know what to do. It gives him time to absorb all the composure he can muster and think more clearly. He’s got to keep your heart going, that much he knows, and if you’re not breathing, it’s probably because you’ve got water in your lungs. Upon the realization he briefly stops the cardiac massage to pinch your nose and blow as much air as he can into your mouth.

For the next couple of minutes he does just that, alternating between insufflating oxygen through your mouth and pressing at your heart. His own breaks every time he pulls away from your lips and they still don’t pink back up to their usual lovely cherry color. Tears roll down his face in a constant flow, forcing him to wipe his face against the material of his shirt at his shoulder; there is no way in hell he is stopping his action for even a fraction of a second. He’ll die trying to save you before you die on him, and then he’d kick you ass from heaven down to hell for even thinking of leaving him behind.

All of a sudden you start coughing wet sounds from your throat, your body jolting from its spot on the sand. Harry’s never been so happy to hear someone choke (on water, that is) and as you turn your body sideways to let out all the excess of water clogging your chest, he closes his eyes and tilts his head back towards the sky in gratitude. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he whispers out in relief, before regaining his breathing and focusing back on you. He draws soothing circle against your back as you cough the last bit of water out of your mouth, pushing your hair out of your face to give you space to breath. Lord knows you need it.

"It’s okay, pet. You’re okay, you’re alive. Fuck you’re alive, I can’t- please don’t ever do that to me ever again, you hear me?" He rambles at you as he cups your face with two trembling hands. He is in shamble in front of you, the high he was caught up in, in his order to save you finally dissolving and leaving only but shock and despair in its aftermath. You’d come this close to die in his arms, you both realize. This close from your life being highjacked from his in the middle of nowhere and the thought turns your blood even colder than it already is.

"‘kay, m’okay, Harry. We’re both okay," you reassure him too, and just hearing the sound of your hoarse voice is enough to calm him some. He brings you in a bear hug, tucking your face underneath his chin and draping is other arm over your back. You don’t hesitate before you return his embrace by wrapping your arms around his waist.

For a hot minute you remain intertwined in silence as you breath each other in and revel in the fact that you both survived the crash. Once your heartbeats have lowered down to healthier levels, you slightly part from each other and your eyes glisten as you lock them with his. "You saved my life, Harry," you whisper out to him with a tender caress at his cheeks, trying to ignore the small cut at his brow bone. "I just- thank you, thank you so much."

He answers with a small shake of his head, "don’t thank me, pet. I can’t imagine what I woulda done if y- if I couldn’t-" he struggles to let the words out and his face turns into a grimace at their implication. "M’just so relieved you’re alive, I’m the one thankful for that if anythin’," he ends up saying against the palm of your hand before leaving a small peck there.

As you move to stand up, you feel a sharp sting at your shin as soon as you apply pressure on your right leg. Looking down, you spot a gash at the skin, it’s not too profound that you won’t be able to walk, but it definitely needs tending to if you don’t want it to get infected. You let out a quiet ‘fuck’ in frustration before catching the look of concern of Harry’s face. "It’s fine," you brush it off, "just gonna need to clean it out. That cut on your face as well," you motion at his injury and he brings his hand up to feel out the cut in confusion. He hadn’t noticed the small wound, you realize. "Right, yeah," he answers after inspecting the patch of blood coating his fingers now.

Now that the shock of the situation is slowly dissipating and that reality is setting in, you both start thinking about the next course of action. You’re both alive and relatively unscathed, but now what? How do you get out form this place? Where even is this place? And how do you go home? It becomes increasingly obvious that you don’t have much resources and that you need some sort of plan if you want to survive.

"What about Sophia and the pilots? Do you know what happened to them?" you suddenly remember the rest of the crew. Perhaps they know more about how to proceed in such a situation. They might even know where you’re located, how far you are from home and what’s the procedure to ensure everyone’s survival and rescue.

"I dunno, love. Didn’t see them when we were in the water, I think they might have been on the other side of the plane," the somber look on his face betrays his pessimism as to their fate. They would be on the beach as well if they had survived. As the same reasoning courses through your mind, you look down in sadness at the vicious image of them struggling in the water before succumbing to the fatigue. Harry notices your pained expression and brings you back against his frame to leave a small comforting kiss at your hairline.

"Alright, it’s gonna be fine," you declare in pretend confidence. "People will start looking for us, right?" you try to make light of the conversation. "Hell, there’s probably going to be a whole unit created to find you as soon as we don’t show up in London and I’m sure they’ll find us fast." Hope is emulating in your belly where water had previously drown your vigor. You’re probably right; surely, if the one and only Harry Styles disappears in the middle of a plane crash, the response will be worthy of the man.  

He doesn’t seem to quite share the sentiment however, if the small frown and nervous nipping at his lips suggest anything. "Love, I- Jeff’s the only one who knows we were going back to England. He might not notice right away." It’s his own fear talking, the idea that it might take more than a day for people to notice their unsettling absence.

On a normal schedule, him and Jeff would be in constant contact, sharing details for the next day’s agenda, planning tours, interviews, promotions and pitching in ideas for new projects, but be that as it may, Harry was currently on vacation. He’d taken a couple weeks off to relieve the pressure from the last busy months and catch up on some much needed time with you, and Jeff knew that meant a little less consistent contact for this break to be as rejuvenating as expected. Would he think much of the absence of texts from his friend? At some point definitely, but how long would it take for concern to replace dismissal?

Talk about rejuvenation.

"What about the plane company?" you ask, not ready to see your hopes dwindle down.

He seems surprised at the thought for a second before the anxious lines on his face smooth out some, iridescent eyes locking with your own in renewed faith. "You’re right, Jeff was the one who made the booking, so the company will have to contact him once they know about the crash." You let your lips quirk into a soft smile at his optimism before he adds, "we just have to survive until then."

"Right," you dial back on the heart-talking and dares your brain to recall any tips about survival behavior you’ve ever heard. "So we need find water asap and to make a fire before the night falls." You know water should be your priority, you have three days before you die of dehydration, maybe even less under this blazing sun. And despite behind surrounded by water, you know that the sea can’t help you with that. It’s quite ironic in a sense, you find yourself trapped by water, yet the biggest threat to you in that instance is the lack of water consumption. As for the fire, you also know temperature can drop very low at night in places like this and since you don’t have anything to bundle yourselves in, hypothermia is your second biggest threat.

Harry nods in approval before looking around. The beach is enclosed between the sea and endless stretch of luxuriant green tropical jungle. "Come on then, we should try and see if anything from the plane made it out on the beach. I think I saw some pieces earlier, maybe we’ll find something to store water." You think it’s a brilliant idea since you will need some kind of container should you be successful in your quest for water. And with that, you both start walking back towards the edge of the shore, Harry’s hand holding tightly to your shoulder keeping you close to him.

➪ Masterlist

[topazy]

Silent bloom

Pairings: Finn Collins/reader

Warning: mentions vomiting blood.

Chapter: 1.10

"The Exodus ship?"

"Wait. Something is wrong."

"Clarke shouldn't be out here."

You nodded in agreement with Finn. Looking at the hazardous destruction in front of you, it wasn’t surprising to find there were no survivors. You know that, but a couple of kids back in camp had false hope that someone would have survived.

Raven turned to face you and Finn. "Her mom was on the ship. She's looking for answers. You want to help her. Find me the black box, hard drives, anything that will explain why this ship crashed."

Raven walked off to look among the rumble, while you looked around, concerned that you were being watched. "What’s wrong?"

What wasn’t wrong? Clarke was falling apart, Raven hated you, and Finn refused to talk to you. Now Bellamy was staring at you with a worried look on his face. "I don’t think we are the only ones out here. Think how loud that explosion was. No way were we the only ones who heard it."

Bellamy gulped down, and looked at the group behind him. "Stay sharp. Grounder retaliation for what happened on the bridge is coming, just a matter of when."

"Can you blame them?" Finn scoffed.

As Finn and Bellamy started bickering, you wondered off, not having the energy to listen to them. You walked past Clarke and gave her a sympathetic smile before spotting something interesting. It was a pink, smelly liquid. You stepped closer to it when the shouting stopped you.

"Daisy, stop!"

Raven rushed over to you, "is it rocket fuel?"

"Hydrazine," she replied. "Highly unstable in its non-solid form. If this stuff meets fire, we're all pink mist." Raven picked up a large stone and threw it into the liquid, causing it to make a small explosion. "We need to clear this area!"

"Okay, then." Bellamy stepped forward. "We move in formation, no straggling, weapons hot. We gotta get back before dark."

—

The walk back to camp was mostly in silence. The only occasional chatter was between Raven and Clarke. A sigh of relief passed your lips when you saw Monty running to meet you at the gates.

"What’s wrong?" You asked, noticing the expression on his face.

"Murphy, he’s back. He’s inside the drop-ship."

Bellamy, Clarke, and Finn rushed towards the drop-ship, while you and Raven stayed behind. The brunette was carrying samples from the crash site, while you just needed a moment. You pulled Monty into a hug, and squeezed him tightly. Pulling back, you smiled. The past couple of days have made you grateful for the people you care about still being alive.

As you walked towards the drop-ship, you could hear Bellamy’s voice getting louder. "Help us? We hung him. We banished him, and now we're gonna kill him. Get the hell out of my way."

Bellamy stared at you when he noticed you walking towards them. You expected him to say something, anything to explain why he wanted to kill Murphy. You shook your head in disappointment, "you can’t be serious? We don’t kill our own."

Clarke stepped beside you, "Finn and Daisy are right."

"Like hell they are," Bellamy snapped back. "Clarke, think about Charlotte."

"I am thinking about her, but what happened to Charlotte was as much our fault as his. He's not lying. His fingernails were torn off. They tortured him."

As Clarke spoke, you kneeled down to see for yourself. Unlike the others in the room, you felt sorry for Murphy. He didn’t deserve to be tortured. His fingernails had been pulled off. How cruel. To your surprise, Murphy spoke to you in a low voice, "I-I never tried to hurt you."

"I know," you sighed. "I was Charlotte."

Being so focused on Murphy, you nearly missed the conversation happening behind you. "You and the Grounders should compare notes."

Rolling your eyes, you stood up again. "Not now Finn, we don’t have time for this. The grounders are coming and arguing among ourselves is exactly what they want." You ignored the glare Finn shot at you. "I’m going for a walk. You guys are giving me a headache. Murphy better be alive when I get back."

—

"You know what? This is my tent, okay? Bellamy gave it to me, and if you have a problem with that, maybe you should find somewhere else to sleep."

The venom in Jasper's voice took you by surprise. You had never heard him argue with anyone before, let alone his best friend.

"Maybe I should."

You cleared your throat to alert them to your presence, before opening the flaps of the tent. "Hi guys, either of you care to join me for a walk."

Monty was still staring at Jasper, "I will."

"Good."

—

You and Monty walked around camp four times before he told you what the argument with Jasper was about, and truthfully, you were pissed. Jasper was changing and not for the better. You had a theory that his referring to Harper as' ‘low hanging fruit’ offended Monty.

"Is Finn talking to you yet?"

You shake your head, "nope. I did it to protect him and Clarke, but he didn’t want to hear it."

"Well... maybe it’s for the best Daze. I mean, he slept with you while still dating Raven." You stopped walking and faced him. Monty was one of your closest friends and would never tell you anything out of badness. "I just mean you deserve better Daisy. He’s still with Raven, and flirts with Clarke. The distance might do you some good."

You smiled, "you're so sweet, you know that? I hope the girls here get over Jasper acting like a jackass and realise who the real hero is."

Monty opened his but froze and pointed at your head. "Daisy your ear, it’s bleeding!"

You cupped your ear and felt the warm liquid against your palm. Oh shit.

"Do you still have a headache?" You nodded. "We need to find Clarke."

You started to walk towards the drop-ship and noticed how busy it looked. The sudden feeling of nausea washed over you, as your chest became heavy. Your coughing became worse before you started to throw up blood. Everything started to go hazy, as the only thing you could make out was yelling around you.

"Finn, don’t touch her!"

—

You awoke to feel a hard thumping on your back, as you lay on your front. "Wh..what..." you struggled to talk. "Where am I?"

The thumping stopped as Octavia quickly appeared in front of you. "You're in the drop-ship. Murphy turned you over because you were choking."

"Choking? On what?" You asked groggy.

"Blood," she squeezed your hands. "You passed out and Finn carried you inside before leaving to help Raven blow up the bridge."

You closed your eyes and were too exhausted to reply. Octavia said she and Murphy would keep an eye on you. Hours must have passed when you woke up. You sat up feeling slightly better.

You glanced across the room to see Murphy trying to offer Bellamy a drink of water. "Bellamy, you're sick, okay? I'm just trying to help. Here."

You sighed and walked towards them. You do your best to ignore the terrible smells and blood around you.

"When I get better, if you're still here-" Bellamy frowned when he saw you. "Why are you up? You should be resting."

"I’ve got this one Murphy," you smiled and took the cup from his hand. "Thanks for saving my life and all that."

Murphy grumped out a ‘no problem’ before walking away.

You sat down next to Bellamy, as she pouted. "What are you doing now? His best friend? After-"

"Murphy is an ass," you cut him off. "But he never hurt me, and I believe in second chances."

Bellamy took a drink of water before you started wiping some of the blood off his face. He stared at you so intensely that it made you almost uncomfortable. You could have wanted to say something but were holding back. "Something you want to talk about?"

"You and Finn-" He was cut off by a loud noise from outside the ship. Bellamy sat up as Clarke ran into the room, "They did it."

"I am becoming a death destroyer of worlds." You raised your eyebrows listening to her talk. "It's Oppenheimer, the man who built the first--"

Bellamy stood up, "I know who Oppenheimer is."

"Who cares about him?" you interrupted. "I want to know what the hell caused the explosion."

"Raven..." Bellamy glanced down at you. "I thought O told you? Raven and Finn went to blow up the bridge to slow the grounders down."

Oh. The plan sounded extremely reckless and dangerous, but if anybody could pull off a stunt like that, it was Raven Reyes.

—

You stood outside Raven’s tent pacing back and forth. Your relationship with the brunette wasn’t good, but you were friends once, and you hoped overtime she would forgive you.

"What?"

The sound of Finn’s voice caused you to freeze on the spot. You didn’t realise he was inside the tent as well. Trying to fix things with her suddenly felt so wrong.

"When Bellamy asked who was gonna take it, you hesitated."

"It's what people do when they're considering something that might blow them up, right?"

You turned to walk away, not feeling right about listening in on a private conversation, but stopped when you heard your name being said.

"Daze...You didn't hesitate when she was falling. You knew she had the virus, but you caught her, anyway."

"Raven..."

You could hear the break in Raven’s voice as she spoke. "You didn't hesitate."

"Raven, I love you."

Hearing Finn say those words to someone else made you break inside. Tears spilled from your ears as you clasped a hand over your mouth so they could hear. He wasn’t yours to love, but you still did. And you hate yourself.

"Not the way that I want to be loved." Raven continued. "Not the way that you love Daisy. It's over, Finn."

You walked backwards, being careful not to trip over any of the ropes stuck in the ground. You put your head down low when you saw Bellamy walking towards the gate. You prayed he hadn’t noticed you. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to see you cry.

The minute you entered your tent, more tears began to spill down your cheeks. You jumped, feeling a pair of arms wrap around you, "O?"

"I overheard them as well," she confessed.

"Raven was my friend...Now they have split up, I have no idea how to fix it."

Octavia sighed, "regardless of how this works out, you always have me, you know that?"

You nodded, "I know. And I’ll always have your back O, no matter what."

Season one