#i made my hatred of her public for the first time with that one eye roll

[theprestigegirly]

i have to get up at 6:50 tomorrow and see that girl in my english class

[andypantsx3]

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother, steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 1 of 4

Then

It was a freezing day in spring the first time you set foot in the Todoroki house.

You had shared a class with Touya for years now, and in that time you’d become something of his best friend. You’d bonded early over a mutual hatred of fish and your status as the two best tree climbers on the playground—two integral friendship quality bars if ever you’d met them—and your entente had strengthened over the following months.

After enough time together Touya had even seemed to like you, seeking out your opinion, deploying you like a shield between himself and the other kids. He wanted to be paired with you for group projects constantly, as he seemed to disdain the ability of the other kids in your class.

He eventually acquiesced to two other friends—Rumi and Keigo—as Keigo was a really fast runner, and Rumi could kick a kid almost clear across a playground. But the two of you remained particularly close, and a few years in, Touya had seemed to want to check the final box of your friendship.

That was the day he’d haughtily informed you that you were coming home with him.

You’d phoned your mother from the school office to obtain permission, and then pulled your jacket on to follow Touya out into the cold, his skinny legs beating a quick path through the streets.

You’d half-expected that Touya lived in a box behind a shop, with the way he descended ravenously on his lunches (as well as yours, and Rumi’s, when he could occasionally get them—though notably not Keigo’s, something that had only retroactively made sense to you as an adult). But the house Touya steered you to was enormous—easily the biggest house you’d ever seen—a stately pile at the end of a fancy neighborhood.

You’d later learn this was because his father was the mayor, and the Todorokis were neck-deep in generational wealth. At the time you’d been mildly annoyed, because what had you let him eat part of your lunches for if he lived in a house like this?

“I’m home,” Touya had called into the echoey foyer, grand but strangely barren. He’d kicked off his coat and shoes, discarding them carelessly—perhaps purposefully—on the floor, then gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen as a warm voice called out to him. “Welcome home, Touya.”

“I brought Y/N,” he announced grandly as he prowled into the room. To you he said, “This is my mother, Rei.”

The voice you’d heard resolved itself into a woman, tall, with beautiful long white hair and a small, but unmistakably fond smile on her mouth. You startled, immediately floored by her beauty. She looked just like Touya, the same delicate prettiness to her mouth, the shape of her eyes—but even lovelier. She looked simultaneously like she belonged on the cover of a magazine, and would be embarrassed by one saying so.

She also smelled like an omega—sweet, but a little wilder than you were used to. Like spring flowers blooming on a cold day.

“Hello Y/N,” she said warmly, turning to you. You gave a shy wave back, suddenly nervous in front of her.

As she turned you finally noticed the child on her hip—a small, round, pudgy little thing with half red and half white hair, and two mismatched grey and blue eyes that pinned on you immediately. It was wearing a horrendous polkadot onesie, and you felt your eyebrows raise without your permission.

“That’s Shouto,” Touya informed you, and the pieces slotted together in your brain. Ah, so that was the face to the name.

Shouto was the little brother Touya complained about incessantly—the one that was his father’s favorite, the one that stared too much and wanted to play with all of Touya’s toys even though he was too little for them, the one Touya was saddled with babysitting constantly. He’d made Shouto out to be this sort of tiny harbinger of evil—but Shouto did not look very evil, perched there on his mother’s hip.

He blinked at you, a flutter of surprisingly long eyelashes, for a baby. You had the thought that actually he was kind of cute. Most probably not a harbinger of evil, and actually very sweet-looking, if weirdly round.

“I need to be excused from Shouto duty,” Touya said, the question posed more like a statement.

Rei shook her head, a somber little smile playing about her mouth. “I have to make dinner before Fuyumi and Natsuo get back from their playdates and your father gets home. Why don’t you take Shouto to play with you and Y/N?”

Touya rolled his eyes in the long-suffering manner of a man who’d endured it all. Shouto didn’t seem to notice, however, his mismatched gaze barely detaching from your face. You noticed Shouto’s left eye was the exact vivid blue of Touya’s, and his other eye the same silver as his mother’s.

“He’s staring like a weirdo,” Touya complained, but collected Shouto from Rei anyway. Shouto let himself be passed over as placidly as a bag of potatoes, still watching you.

“Y/N is a new face for him, he’s just curious, Touya,” Rei said, smoothing Shouto’s hair down as Touya hefted him in his arms. Shouto reached out a hand towards you, fat fingers flexing.

“What, you think I’m some taxi service who’s gonna bring you wherever you want to go?” Touya demanded. Shouto ignored him, his little chubby arm wavering.

Strangely, something compelled you to step closer, reaching out a hand in return. Shouto seized it in his pudgy little fist, staring up at you with solemn eyes. His other hand reached out to you, too, twisting in Touya’s grip, and Touya let out an annoyed scoff.

“Y/N didn’t come here to hang out with you,” he said. But Shouto ignored him, his little hand fisting in your tee shirt. He seemed to be trying to lever himself up out of Touya’s arms and into yours.

You were startled, never having held a baby before, and Shouto was kind of a big one. But Touya showed you how to hold him under his butt and across his back, and you heard the rustle of his diaper as he was handed off to you.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, watching him watch you.

His eyebrows raised, some small happiness lighting up his expression, and he gave a little kick that wiggled his whole body in your arms.

“He likes you,” Rei said over the counter top, as she settled a cutting board and a pile of vegetables across it.

You looked back at Shouto, feeling weirdly pleased. Maybe babies weren’t that bad.

Touya made an annoyed sort of grunt, stomping past you. “We’re going to play in the living room,” he announced imperiously. You glanced at Rei to make sure that was okay, then followed Touya, Shouto heavy in your arms.

By the time you arrived, Shouto had settled a hand on either of your cheeks and seemed to be trying to stare directly into your soul, and Touya patted him firmly on the back, clucking. “Stop being such a little freak.”

“He’s fine,” you said, bemused. No one had told you really little kids were this intense and weird. But Shouto’s little round face was kind of sweet, and it was hard to be annoyed at a baby staring up at you, that clearly enamored.

“Actually he’s being way nicer to me than you,” you told Touya.

Touya rolled his eyes and busied himself pulling out a horde of action figures, legos, puzzles, and games, as well as a turtle with multi-colored blocks set into it that appeared to be for Shouto.

“Oi, it’s turtle time, weirdo,” he told Shouto.

That seemed to break the baby’s singular focus on you, and he peered around, lighting up nearly the same way when he saw his blocks as he had when he’d seen you. You laughed, and helped him settle on the floor next to you, watching his clumsy, chubby grip fumble on the blocks as he carefully removed them one-by-one from the plastic turtle.

Touya set up the legos around you, an older parallel of his brother, though you thought he would kill you for saying so.

A block appeared in your lap, carefully and deliberately placed by a fat-fingered hand. You smiled down at Shouto, picking it up and gesturing grandly. “For me?”

A grey-and-blue gaze attached itself solemnly to your face, as if awaiting your judgment, and an instant fondness swept over you. Who knew babies could be this cute—when they weren’t screaming and crying and generally being small and annoying near you. Touya had massively undersold his little brother, who was the sweetest baby you’d ever encountered.

You bowed your head, clutching your gifted block close to you. “Thank you, Shouto. It’s very nice.”

Shouto stared up at you, smiling a shy little almost-smile, clearly pleased. You couldn’t help but reach up and ruffle that distinct tuft of hair, taken with him already. Yep, definitely a good little kid.

And you decided then and there that you liked Todoroki Shouto—though for now he was a child—you both were children—and he could only mean so much to you.

You wouldn’t realize how much he’d actually come to mean to you, until many, many years later.

Now

Touya’s white mess of hair was the first thing you spotted as you stumbled into the restaurant.

Outside it was unseasonably cold, an icy wind tearing through you as you’d rushed all the way from your mother’s house. The inside of the restaurant was blessedly warm, and slightly smoky from the meat and vegetables grilling away on each table top. Touya was on the far side, and you could see Rumi’s white hair beyond him, Keigo’s blonde riot of waves peeking over the top of the booth next to him.

Rumi faced the door so she spotted you first, a mouth-splitting grin overtaking her face as she waved you down.

You hurried your way over, letting out a surprised hrrk! when Rumi drew you down into a rib-crushing hug, her alpha strength barely contained. You fell into the seat at an awkward angle, your joints screaming.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! You don’t look a bit changed, you little beta cuck,” she crowed, making you choke on a laugh as you almost inhaled a mouthful of her hair.

“Rumi—!” you sputtered, half-pleased and half-scandalized that she clearly hadn’t changed in the years since you’d seen her last. She crushed you to her harder, and you could feel your eyeballs all but bulging like a rubber doll.

“If you plan to crush her to death you could at least wait until I clear the scene,” came Touya’s disaffected drawl from the other side of the table. “The last thing I need is police on my case again.”

That was so typical of him, too, after all this time.

“Good to see you too, Touya,” you said, even though you couldn’t get a look at him through Rumi’s hair. She ground her knuckles into the top of your head for good measure before releasing you, and you came up for air gratefully, watching the two men on the other side of the table grin at you.

Keigo looked exactly as you’d left him, a little bit more filled out than the skinny teen he’d been, the same wiry facial scruff growing in, those golden eyes alight with typical playfulness. Touya looked like he’d aged the most, his scars—fresher when you’d graduated—now deepened to the color of dark bruises. His features were still achingly familiar under them, however, the fine-boned prettiness of his mother shining through, his father’s blazing cerulean eyes the only nod to the other half of his parentage.

“So you really obeyed mommy dearest huh,” Touya said, pinning you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him. As your closest childhood friend, he still knew all your weak spots, your mother the biggest of them. Growing up she’d been lonely and overworked, and you’d tried to care for her and please her the best you could. You still called her several times a week and sent back your wages to help pay for the house, and pay down the pile of debt your father had left her in when he’d died.

The concession of returning home for a few days to attend the annual mating run, as pointless as it was going to be, was the least you could do for her.

“You know as well as I do that no one is going to run down a beta,” you said, settling yourself in next to Rumi and shedding your coat and hat. “Especially not now that I’m well past newly-presented. It’ll be like a vacation.”

“You never know,” Keigo said, raising his fluffy eyebrows at you, his grin wicked. You flung the pile of your things across the table at him, but he intercepted easily, all alpha reflex. He stuffed your jacket down next to him, laughing at you.

“I do know,” you said emphatically. “And I’m not fussed about it. I don’t know who she thinks is going to pay her bills if I’m off getting dicked down by some knothead idiot.”

Touya made a dismissive noise and you looked around the table for something to fling at him too. He’d never had to worry about money, his future shored up with the Todoroki family fortune, built over generations and then basically quadrupled by his father. Since coming out of the correctional facility for a string of petty crimes, Touya had been skating by on family generosity, and you knew he wasn’t about to stop.

“Just burn her house down like mine,” he said, an unholy grin overtaking his face as he leaned forward. There was a light behind his eyes like he wasn’t entirely kidding. No one had ever been able to determine if the Todoroki family fire had been an accident or not, although Touya claimed it had been.

But you’d known Touya your whole life and you had your suspicions. Touya had hated his father for nearly all of your living memory—and the Todoroki men had an almost disturbing single-mindedness about them. You had long wondered if Touya’s fixation on his break with Enji had ever played into the fire that ravaged their house during your middle school years.

The one exception to the Todoroki single-mindedness was sweet little Shouto, who you’d last seen at your high school graduation. He was several years younger than you and had still been round-faced and chubby-cheeked then, all wide solemn eyes and pouty little mouth, just like when he was a baby.

You hadn’t seen him since, but couldn’t imagine Shouto turning out anything like Touya.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” you said to Touya, not liking how his grin widened.

Purportedly he’d come out of the correctional facility for good behavior, his record squeaky clean.

Purportedly.

“So why even agree to the run?” Rumi asked. “If you’re not looking to actually take anyone home?”

You helped yourself to the water that had been laid out before answering. “It’s just easier to appease my mother. She gets what she wants—some indication I’m open to my life mate-–and I get what I want, which is to be able to use this as an excuse next year.”

“Aww you won’t come back to see little old us?” Keigo asked. His tone was wheedling but his eyes tracked your expression carefully, always observing.

You smiled at him. You did miss your old friends, and you liked how easy it felt to sink right back into them after so many years away. You wanted to see them outside of the confines of a group chat or the rare facetime.

And you missed a lot about the town you’d grown up in. You liked the tiny storefronts of the downtown shops and the easy access to the coast and miles of hiking trails. You’d had a dream of opening up a little bookstore in one of the lovely brick buildings downtown when you were younger—but that was back before the staggering number of dollar signs on your mother’s bills had made themselves known to you and the romance of your daydream had begun to seem more like foolishness.

The bigger cities offered the bigger jobs, the bigger wages to send home. Even if it meant you could only see your friends every few years and mostly kept in touch via group chat.

“How about you guys come to me?” you asked. “There’s a chicken place I think Keigo will want to make the trip for.”

Keigo’s grin widened and he leaned in, interested. “Say no more,” he drawled.

On the table top, Touya’s phone vibrated. He peered at it, dismissing the notification with a swipe. “Rei wants to see you,” he reported, the usual blend of disrespect and unwilling fondness for his own mother layered in his voice. “She says you should come by the house.”

You smiled, pleased to be remembered. “I’d love that. Who’s living there now?”

Touya stretched, his back brushing the booth. “I do. And she does. Enji visits sometimes—” his tone was pointedly colorless “—and Fuyumi and Natsuo come by a couple times a week. Shouto is there almost daily for dinner when he’s not on shift, because his own cooking is absolute shit.”

You blinked, struggling to reconcile the idea of sweet-faced little Shouto with an adult who lived on his own now. “On shift?” you asked.

“He’s a fireman,” Touya rolled his eyes. “Little fucking do gooder. Ever since the house fire he’s wanted to.”

Your eyelashes fluttered again, your brain floating with the images of skinny, round-faced Shouto struggling to haul people out of a burning building. You struggled not to voice this disbelief.

“Wow, good for him,” you said.

“Not for me,” Touya complained. “Ever since he’s presented he’s been eating us out of house and home. Can’t find a fucking thing in the cabinets after he’s been through—”

And that shocked you, too, the idea that Shouto was already grown enough to have presented.

Objectively you knew he had to be into his early twenties at this point, but hearing the changes life had wrought on him was almost too much to contemplate. You wondered what he had presented as, and whether he’d be subject to the run this week as well. You’d always sort of suspected he’d be an omega, with that wide-eyed, beautiful face—almost a carbon copy of his mother’s, the same delicate prettiness in it as Touya.

And he’d been so sweet, too. When you’d been much, much younger—before Touya had become too cool and too emo for it—you remembered playing house together, remembered how often you’d dragged Shouto in to play the part of your son. He’d always sat there, a chubby-faced toddler, smashing blocks together and staring up at you with big eyes as you and Touya made plastic food and Touya unrolled a days-old newspaper collected from his father, bossing you around from his armchair.

Even when Shouto had gotten older and started to get as fresh with Touya as Touya was with him, he’d always been nice to you, always watched you with those same wide, mismatched eyes.

Yeah. He was most probably an omega.

“Well I’d love to see Rei, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto,” you said.

Touya stretched in the booth, not minding Keigo and thumping him right across the chest. Keigo squawked in annoyance.

“I’ll tell Rei you’re coming for dinner,” Touya said.

You smiled, pleased. You knew what a huge deal it was for both Touya and Rei to be in the same house again—both in recovery, both sharing the same space again.

When you’d left, Rei had been hospitalized and Touya had already been knee deep in petty crimes and utterly disinterested in any sort of overtures of help. For them to both be together again, getting regular help, with Enji out of the house and a rotating string of their family members checking in on them—you were happy to see them healing.

The buoyant feeling lasted all the way through lunch and too many drinks, until Touya shepherded you out of the restaurant, blazing a familiar path towards his family home. You followed, gratified when you saw that the Todoroki house was just as you remembered it, even the rebuilt pieces nostalgic.

Its grandness had been a shock to you as a child—not only in comparison to the tiny, squashed little two bed you’d grown up in—but that Touya had grown up there, in so vast and elegant a space. Touya who you dug in the dirt with. Touya who picked bugs out of the mud and put them on you. Touya who turned his nose up at dolls and ate things right out of your lunch box without asking, like he was a starving child without any access to food.

The house said otherwise.

Touya treated the Todoroki mansion with the same pointed lack of care he had as a teenager, kicking in the door as he led you inside, throwing his things in a pile in the entry. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fondly nostalgic over his shithead behavior.

“You missed a spot—I think there’s a bare patch of floor over there,” you said.

Touya gave you a narrow-eyed gaze over his shoulder as he uttered a string of objects you might suck.

You raised your eyebrows at him, smiling and unbothered. He’d always said it was your beta nature that left you unfussed with his various attitudes, taking everything in stride. You didn’t know if that was true—you’d always sort of suspected it was the strange, inherent connection you felt to him, and to the Todoroki family at large that kept you fond of him, even as he descended into teenage fury.

You didn’t know what it was, as you’d not ever felt it with your other friends’ families who you’d spent nearly as much time with. But if it netted you a lifelong friend, you weren’t about to question it.

Rei was in the kitchen like she had been that first day Touya brought you home, an enormous expanse of marble counter and vaulted ceiling that made her look unfathomably small. Her snow white hair had been cropped short into a page boy cut and made her look younger than her years, especially when she glanced up at you with the very same smile she had when you were a child.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” she said. You bowed respectfully, Touya scoffing and grabbing the back of the collar to haul you up.

“She’s not the fucking prime minister,” he grunted.

“And you’re not the boss of me,” you sniped, the drinks you’d both shared at lunch making you a little looser tongued in front of Rei than you’d have liked.

“Shouto will be by in just a few minutes as well, and he’ll be so happy to see you,” Rei said, smiling gently.

“Shouto lives on his own?” you asked, curious. Aside from picturing him as the skinny preteen you’d last seen him as, you also had trouble imagining kind, sweet little Shouto leaving his mother on her own—and with Touya definitely counted as on her own, for all the help he was. Shouto seemed devoted, familial.

“He’s wanted his own space since he presented,” Rei said lightly, clearly unbothered.

It was rare for omegas to peel off from their family units before finding a mate, and the strangeness of striking out on his own struck you even further. Maybe he wanted a nest to bring someone back to, after finding the right person?

You wondered if he was going to be participating in this year’s mating run, and made a mental note to try and find out if he wanted help avoiding any undesirable alphas. If he was an omega, your beta scent would help disguise some of his tracks, you’d just have to follow in his footsteps far enough away from the main track that a ranging alpha wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it.

That thought was cut short, however, by the sound of the door creaking open in the foyer you’d just come in from. There was the sound of rustling fabric, like someone shedding their coat, and then footsteps padded through the hall. A hint of a scent met your nose, slightly sweet and smoky, with an undercurrent of something fresh—like a campfire burning on a cold, clear day. Your brow furrowed, the frostiness an almost-familiar dimension, like Rei's cold widlflower scent. Who was—?

Then a tall, unfamiliar alpha poked his head through the door, fluffy red and white strands of hair tangling across his forehead. He was an arresting sight—easily the most beautiful person you had ever seen, every single one of his features so perfectly and evenly placed, like he'd been put together deliberately. He looked startlingly like Rei, if Rei were a man, except for the fiery blue of his left eye, the shock of scarlet hair above it.

You stared at this new interloper, confused, until you were seized with a sudden memory of that scar, that same mop of hair bent over a turtle-shaped block puzzle.

No. No fucking way.

Rei smiled, opening her arms, and you gaped after him as Todoroki Shouto prowled across the kitchen to her, enveloping her in a hug. Where Touya was taller than his mother, his baby brother almost dwarfed her, easily clearing six feet, his shoulders broad and his frame packed with dense muscle. He'd always had the same elegant, sweetly beautiful set to his features that his mother and Touya did, but there was something sharper about them now, a slightly more alpha edge to him.

An enormous bicep shifted against the sleeve of his t-shirt as Shouto held Rei, and suddenly it was very clear how Shouto had managed to become a firefighter.

Something pinched your arm, hard, and you whipped around to stare at Touya accusingly. “Ouch!”

He smirked. “Don’t fucking stare like he does.”

You scowled at him, and opened your mouth to say something unsavory, until two mismatched eyes turned on you, pinning you in place.

“Y/N,” Shouto said. His voice was deep as midnight—so much lower than you had remembered—careful and smooth. The sound of it slithered up your spine like a shiver.

“Shouto?” you answered, stepping closer. “You’re Shouto? Are you sure?”

Shouto released his mother, only the tiniest corner of his mouth twitching. And that was confirmation enough. Shouto had always been a little serious, watching you carefully and intently. He was most like his mother that way—withdrawn, a little bit solemn.

“As far as I am aware,” he said. His tone was flat but you heard the tease in it, regardless. And that was so like him too, couching his inner little shit under the most serious tone, under those earnest heterochromatic eyes.

“Wish he wasn’t,” Touya muttered.

“Oh my god, Shouto. You’ve grown up so much,” you said, a strange thrill zinging up your spine as he stepped closer. That scent like campfire on a cold day washed over you, making you a little dizzy.

Shouto’s eyes got a little bit round at the edges, and something pulled at the corner of his mouth again, an expression you didn’t recognize. His tone was soft as he observed, “You are exactly the same as I remember.”

You could tell he meant it kindly, so you chose not to be offended with his obvious tact. You were well aware you were not a fresh-faced high school graduate anymore.

“I’m definitely older than you remember,” you said, resisting the urge to poke him in the chest. Your hand felt magnetized toward it for some reason. “Don’t be surprised if you hear my bones creaking all the way from the preserve during the run.”

Something sudden and strange passed over Shouto’s face, those mismatched eyes narrowing in on you.

“You’re running,” he said, his tone suddenly flat. “This year.”

“Yeah I’m back in town for it,” you said, ignoring Touya’s scoff at your side. “Gotta appease my mother. She doesn’t get that betas aren’t the target crowd for this, nevermind ancient ones. That, and I plan to disappear up a tree if someone so much as sniffs in my direction.”

“Up a tree,” Shouto repeated, sounding contemplative.

You wondered if he was internalizing how weird you were. He probably wouldn’t have remembered you being weird, considering how younger kids never thought to question their older peers. Maybe he’d even thought you cool when you were growing up together—you’d quickly disabuse him of that notion.

You nodded. “I’ve only been followed by alphas twice and both times I lost them up that big willow overlooking the bay, if you take the seaside path out two miles?”

Shouto’s eyes tracked you closely, like he was committing every word to memory. “I know it.”

You smiled. “The sea breeze is just enough to hide a beta’s scent, once you’re out of sight up there. I hope the city life hasn’t gotten me too out of shape to get up the trunk. Though to be frank I’m not too worried about it this year. Are you running?”

“Yes,” Shouto said, so quickly that it looked like he’d startled himself.

Touya’s head whipped around to stare at him, and Rei’s eyelashes fluttered momentarily, a weird stillness overcoming her—until a sort of look of understanding came over her features. You thought you caught a hint of a smile as she ducked her head to return to her dinner preparations.

“Thought you said you weren’t interested,” Touya said, his tone accusing. “You’ve never run before.”

Shouto looked deeply unfussed by his older brother’s sudden consternation. “Perhaps I have changed my mind.”

“The hell you did,” Touya said snottily. “You said you knew you wouldn’t find your life mate there.”

“Perhaps that has changed too,” Shouto said, his tone so dry that you could tell he was purposefully needling Touya. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Brothers.

Touya’s scoff overlaid the thump of Rei’s knife as she returned to chopping, and you realized how rude it looked for the three of you to be standing there arguing while she was working.

You hurriedly stepped around Touya and Shouto, peering over Rei’s shoulder. For some reason you were hyperaware of Shouto as you passed him, a thought you shoved right back out of your mind as you approached Rei. “Is there anything I can help with? I feel like I have years of free dinners to pay you back for.”

“I am almost done, but thank you, Y/N,” Rei said, as Touya said something in a haughty tone of voice, and Shouto’s low baritone answered. Rei’s mouth quirked softly at this—and you realized it was the same way Shouto smiled, small and private.

“—Not bringing home some weird fucking omega,” Touya was saying when you turned back to the boys. You startled when you realized Shouto had shifted to face you instead of his brother, and his body language looked like he was mostly ignoring him.

You channeled your sudden laugh into a fake cough. Touya eyed you sourly, long used to your tricks.

“Well if you want any help on the run, let me know,” you told Shouto, cutting into their argument with the practice of a beta used to diffusing things, especially between Touya and others. Shouto’s mouth twitched again like he knew what you were doing, and you watched his eyes pick over you speculatively.

You marveled at how far back you had to tilt your head if you wanted to look him directly in the eye now. He was so big, and so unexpectedly handsome—he really had grown up well. Some omega was going to be very, very pleased at the end of this week, provided he really did go after someone.

“If it’s your first you probably won’t know all the best hiding spots,” you told him.

Not that they were really hiding spots, considering most omegas wanted to be found. And there was no one on this earth who wouldn’t want to be found by an alpha who looked like Shouto did now. But he’d probably want to make sure he got to his intended first, before any other alpha found them.

Shouto nodded, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I will take you up on that,” his tone was low, intimate.

You smiled up at him, though something weird twinged in your chest. “Lunch sometime this week then? I’ll walk you through everything.”

Touya made a noise of disgust, and you shushed him. Shouto’s smile pulled into a quarter-moon sliver, sweet and beautiful. “I would like that.”

A strange little thrill zinged down your spine. You very pointedly did not think about it, instead shooting Shouto a thumbs up. And then, seized by a sudden need to get away, you marched forward to grab Touya by his collar, dragging him out into the dining room.

“Do you have to make your mother do everything? Let’s set the table,” you ordered him, shoving him at the cabinets. Touya swore at you, trying to twist his lanky body out of your hands, spitting like a wet cat.

But your mind was already elsewhere, occupied by this strange new turn of events. It really had been a long time away from your hometown, and much more had changed than you realized. You’d missed seeing Touya start to recover his life, you’d missed Rei returning to herself, you’d missed Shouto growing up into a man—and an alpha. You were suddenly overcome by the feeling that you did not want to miss any more, did not want to leave again—though of course that was foolishness.

The run was less than a week away, and you had train tickets back into the city just after.

And you had your mom to provide for, much as she wanted you to settle down with the first rando who got handsy with you in the woods. An alpha would have to bring more than an interest in you to your coupling in order to win you—and that was not going to happen, especially not to a beta, and especially not to you.

You laid the dishes out, resolving yourself. You’d enjoy this week, but never lose sight of the fact that you’d still have to leave at the end of it.

After all, it wasn’t like some miraculous twist of fate was lurking just around the corner of the Todoroki kitchen, ready to change your life.

[teaandspite]

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

[thesilmarillionblog]

𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Series Masterlist is here.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: Heavy angst, hurt, heartless Soldier Boy, reader gets hurt, mention of violence, mention of drugs, betrayal, Soldier Boy being a dick, reader is a supe, Crimson Countess is a bitch

Word Count: 1796

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

“Get lost fuckface and bring me a coffee,” Ben said telling the the poor guy who was trying his best to make Soldier Boy happy till the broadcast start.

The announcement of the new Payback member to the American public was scheduled for today. The company's executives had already made the decision to bring on a new employee, despite the fact that the team already had enough members. Everyone on the team opposed this idea, with the exception of Soldier Boy and you, but nothing changed.

You didn't mind if a new person joined the team because they were assigning Soldier Boy all tasks, regardless of importance, and you could see he was growing more and more irate with each passing day. Given that Black Noir was the team's second-strongest member, it was obvious Soldier Boy didn't appreciate the concept of being used for insignificant tasks constsantly. It was obvious that the team definitely required one more strong member.

“You don’t have to be so rude to those people,” you murmered as you approached Ben. "They are all scared of you already.”

Ben chuckled as he sat down and sniffed the white dust, saying, “I am not familiar with the concept of princess treatment, sweetheart, and nobody respects a pussy leader; keep that in mind.”

You sighed knowing he would never change his attitude just because you told him to. He pulled you to his lap and gave you a quick and firm kiss, silencing you before you argue with him.

All of you were taken aback when a new supe was introduced because you hadn't seen her before. She smiled and gave a short but impactful speech about how she would benefit America and its citizens. She looked nice and strong with her red suit and long red hair.

You were only made to feel worse by the fact that everyone was rooting for Soldier Boy and Crimson Countess every day, and their fan base became stronger over time. The current Crimson Countess stood on the side where you used to stand. They were singing together in ads while standing side by side and hand in hand, which was keeping you up at nights. The growing distance between you and Ben was eating you alive.

He hardly ever visited or spoke to you during the day, despite the fact that he used to spend the night with you in the past. There were moments when you tried to talk to him about what was going on, but he waved you off right away, saying he had things to do and couldn't be seen with any other woman but the Countess.

You were frequently questioned about their relationship, and you smiled while telling the cameras that they were lucky to have found each other and that they were strong together. If only they were aware of your true feelings.

Even though Ben continued to treat Noir rudely, which greatly upset and angered you, the rest of the crew was glad that Soldier Boy had finally become distracted. This was because they had been mistreated and bullied by him less than in the past. You two had heated disagreements over Noir as well in the past, but Ben consistently ignored your emotions and ideas. Now that Crimson also supported him about how he should treat the team made your blood boil with hatred and agony.

Noir remarked, removing his mask, “I can't do this, Y/N. I refuse to bow to him and put up with the way he treats me.”

You walked up to him and touched his back to get him to turn to face you. “What do you mean?” you questioned.

“I’m saying he is not worthy of being a leader.” Noir paced violently and stated, “All he does is get high with Crimson and bully me and everyone around him. He left you aside too.”

Though you knew he didn’t mean to hurt you, his words cut deep and silenced you for a second.

“Don’t do something crazy, Noir. You hear me?” You asked, ignoring his thoughts about Ben leaving you. “You know his short temper.”

Noir was always kind and kind, so you were surprised to see him so furious, but you knew he was right about everything, and Ben seemed to be getting worse and more distant every day as his connection with Countess took shape right before your eyes. You seemed to be deceiving yourself all along when you told yourself that their relationship wasn't real.

“I don’t know. Someone must do something about this.”

“You don’t stand a chance against him,” you said as you grasped his arms tightly. “I’ll talk to him, okay. I’ve got this, I promise.”

Noir gave you a nod before he put the mask on, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You waited patiently until you learned Ben would be alone tonight because Crimson would be going on a mission. Your heart raced when you entered his house without saying anything. He must have heard the noises you made already, because he turned to you immediately and did not look surprised to see you.

“Hi,” you whispered, not knowing how to react around him anymore.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked as he sat down in the coach after. He was high on cocaine.

As you walked up to him, you gave him a disappointed expression, but the way he looked stopped you. In the past, you were close every second, but those days are long in the past now.

“What’s wrong with you?” Your eyes were watery as you asked. It seemed like you would explode at any moment.

“Are fucking on your period? Why so sensitive?” His smile infuriated you, and he laughed as if something amusing had happened. There was something very punchable about his face.

“Why do you still treat Noir like a fucking jackass? He follows your instructions to the letter, and you are simply being disrespectful to him and the team as a whole.” You spoke angrily, as if you wanted him to share your feelings of rage. You wanted to wipe that foolish smile off his face.

His body abruptly shifted, giving you a menacing glance and raising his finger in your direction. “Don't fucking give me some advise. Who the fuck are you? You do realize that I am the fucking boss here, don't you?”

He hasn't been this angry with you in a long time, so you were surprised by his harsh remarks. It seemed like he hated you as he spat those words.

You yelled back, “I don't even know the man I'm talking to anymore,” at which point your tears finally fell. “Since Crimson entered your life, you have changed, Ben. She fucking hates you; she doesn't even love you. Don’t you see it?”

He was eventually enraged by your screams at him, and he stood in front of you with hate in his eyes. Your heart pained when you saw him staring at you like that, with eyes full of anger and fury.

“Do you know what I'm going to do?” He asked softly, as if he were just saying something kind. “I'm fucking gonna kill that masked pussy Noir and fucking make sure you watch through it.”

His cold words frozen you, and your eyes widened seeing he meant every word he said.

You shoved him away by his chest and sobbed, “If you ever touch Noir, I swear I'll cut Countess’ bitch head and throw it to your fucking thick skull.”

You were aware that nothing or no one could stop Ben from doing what he wanted to do, and that you might be the reason Noir was put to death or anything like. Your pulse raced upon witnessing Ben's unexpected outburst of rage against Noir.

Judging by his face, it was clear he was taken aback by your sharp words. You’ve never talked in athreatening way before with anyone. Your sigh and sobbing were the only things that filled the pregnant silence in the room.

“Ben,” you said softly, trying to reach again one more time, and you touched his face, hoping he wouldn’t push your hands back. To your surprise, he didn’t make a move. You looked him into the eyes between your tears and said, “I am the only one who truly loves you. Not her, not anyone else. Just me. What happened to us?”

You waited for him to answer you after you gave him a firm kiss, showing your love and care for him, but he didn’t kiss you back. Instead, he pushed your hands away from his face, with an unreadable look on his face.

“Why are you being selfish?” he asked, breaking the silence, almost irritated by your kindness toward him. “People love seeing me and her together. Duty fucking comes first.”

“You don’t owe love to her just to be loved by people you don’t even know,” you said, trying to convince him he didn’t have to do something he didn’t want to.

“How the fuck do you know I’m doing this for people only?”

“What do you mean?” you asked, as your heart skipped for a moment.

“Maybe I’m fed up with your soft attitude, and I want to be with her. How about that?” He said he was giving you an insidious smile.

With a heavy heart, you stepped back from him as more tears dropped from your cheeks. There was no point trying to convince Ben for your love while he didn’t give a fuck about it at all and the one he wanted was actually Countess.

“Is that what you want?”

“It fucking is,” he said, sitting down in the coach and keeping sniffing cocaine, like the conversation meant nothing to him and he wanted you to be gone.

Before leaving his house, you turned him one last time, saying, “She’ll betray you, Ben. I don’t know if I see that day, but you’ll see it.”

Next Chapter

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A/N: Well, that was a one shot, but let me know if you think that I should make it multi-chapters. Comments are appreciated, hehehe. <33

[kingkat12]

seven minutes in hell (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, public sex(??), voyeurism, emotional extortion (Roman is such an ass omg), groping, foul language, smoking, angst, mentions of sex

summary: after you made out with Roman during a game of seven minutes in heaven, he insists that you owe him for not telling Letha about it-- how can someone so beautiful be so evil?

word count: 8,192 (yes I know lol)

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9

a/n: after having my inbox flooded w sweethearts asking for a part two, here you go!! I do advise new readers to read the first one before this, because idk how much sense this is going to make without it lol, but enjoy!!<33

Paranoia. That was the only word that could describe the week that followed the party where Roman and I had kissed.

I had spent every waking moment wondering when Roman would show up to cash in his debt or prick me with a goddamn needle. His words lingered in my mind, haunting me; "Fine, I'll be nice. But you owe me," The reminder of those words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't help but wonder how I could've been so stupid as to rope myself into something like this.

Roman knew I liked him. In fact, he knew it very well. I couldn't even mask my feelings with hatred anymore, and everything about that made me want to throw myself off a cliff-- that would probably be more merciful than whatever it was that I had in store. 

After we had made out during seven minutes of heaven, I had to tell my best friend, Letha, that nothing had happened. If she found out that I had made out with her cousin, I doubt she'd want to have me hanging around any longer. And quite frankly, Letha was my favourite person in the whole world, so it was detrimental that she stayed close. She was like a ray of sunshine peeking out through heaps of stormy skies; there was no way in hell I'd lose her without a fight.

Which is why I needed to keep Roman in check, along with my body un-pierced by any incoming needles. 

The first time I saw him after the party, was a few days later in the cafeteria at school. I had stopped in my tracks, completely turning to stone as I watched him with his friends. It was almost as though I was afraid he'd see me if I moved, and to my shock, that's exactly what happened-- as I shifted my weight from one foot to another, harshly gripping my tray of food, his eyes landed on me with a quickness that immediately threw me into a state of panic. I bolted with speed I didn't know I had, not stopping until I reached the other end of the school, panting. 

The second time had been at the library. I had been looking for a specific book that was quite old, meaning I had to do a lot of searching-- the librarian had been of no help, of course. As I scoured the shelves of endless books, crouching down to get a look at the lower sections, I suddenly felt a pair of eyes on me from above.

I looked up to find Roman's green eyes staring at me from the other aisle; his height made it ridiculously easy to lean over, having no visual obstruction of my side of the shelf. Something about the smirk playing across his lips made me freeze up-- it felt like I was prey, about to be eaten whole. I let out a squeak of horror as I grabbed the first book I saw, not letting him get a word in before I dashed towards the exit without a second thought.

The third time was the absolute worst; I had been walking down the stairs with Letha, on our way to our shared history class, as we suddenly encountered Roman on his way up. I felt my heart beat against the books I now pressed tightly against my chest, holding my breath as he neared us with a conniving look on his face-- I was quite sure I had lost all the blood in mine.

As Roman and Letha had a conversation about some sort of family dinner later, I did my best to make myself as small as possible; I wondered whether I should slip away into the crowd or just throw myself down the stairs. 

I was quite sure that it was clear to Roman why I was avoiding him, and I was even more sure that it also was amusing to him. It was rather obvious, with the way he obnoxiously eyed me up with a growing grin. "You okay?" he asked, nudging me. "You look spooked."

Asshole. Just the slightest touch was enough to make me flinch, and my words came out in a breathy mumble; "I'm fine," 

Roman nodded, exchanging a look with Letha. He grew taller when he took a step up, inching closer as he leaned over to check which books I had pressed up against my chest. His long, slender fingers reached forward to tug at one of the books to get a better look, and I would've missed the note he slipped down along the front of my history book if I had blinked. As Roman pulled away, dragging his fingers through his hair as though nothing had happened, I held my books as tight to my chest as I possibly could to not let the note slide down to the floor. 

My heart was beating harder than ever as Roman made his way past me, his familiar cologne lingering in my system as Letha and I made it to class five minutes early. As she left to use the bathroom, I could finally put away my things, inhaling a shaky breath as I checked the note;

meet me behind school in an hour, or I tell Letha everything

I couldn't help the groan that escaped me, ripping the piece of paper to shreds. This was not going to end well.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Somehow, I had managed to pry myself away from Letha for long enough to make it in time for my meeting with Roman. I was tugging at the sleeves of my jumper, anxiously ripping at the fabric. Wondering whether I should've worn protective gear to shield myself from any needle-kinks he might impose on me, I trembled with fear-- I didn't want to see him. 

Despite my wishes, Roman eventually came around the corner, a rather mischievous smirk spread across his soft, pink lips as he neared me. His hands were tucked into his pockets as he leaned against the wall next to me, his green eyes etching themselves into my skull. His usual cardigan was draped around his shoulders and over his white shirt, tied in the front, as he crossed his long legs in the classic Roman Godfrey stance. "I'm glad to see you came,"

"As if I had a choice," I mumbled, glancing at our surroundings, not wanting to be caught alone with him here. I had to do everything in my power not to look at the casual swoop of his hair, not wanting to think about how handsome he looked right now. "What do you want?"

Roman blinked twice, almost as though he had expected me to say something else. "Isn't it obvious?"

I was afraid my heart was pounding audibly in my chest. "No," My gaze darted down to my shoes, kicking away a nearby rock. "Can't we just forget any of it ever happened?"

"Well, that was sort of the draft of the original plan," Roman said, shrugging. "But you've clearly not been able to forget it, with the way you've been avoiding me for a week now... So it seems we have to resolve this, somehow."

Did this mean that I had only made things worse for myself? I wanted to hit my head against the wall and bleed out-- that would probably feel better than what I was feeling on the inside right now. "The actual kiss hasn't been on my mind much... Mostly just the needles,"

Roman let out a huff-- was it a laugh? "I'm not going to fucking poke you, could you calm down about that?"

"I can't be sure when it comes to you, Roman!--"

"So you haven't thought about it?" He cut me off, eyes sparkling with the need to know. "The kiss?"

If I'd had something to throw at him, I would've done so in a heartbeat. Why was he so keen on knowing that? "Not much,"

"Only at night?"

I couldn't even hold back my grimace, listening to him snickering like a proud toddler. "Definitely not," I grumbled, now kicking at another rock. "Why does it matter to you?"

Roman shrugged; "I don't think you understand how intriguing it was to find out you've liked me all this time," He watched as I continued to tug at the sleeve of my sweater, looking like a nervous wreck. The image before him made his grin widen. "You've been the biggest bitch ever, do you know that? I was dead sure you hated my guts until you begged me to fucking kiss you!"

"I didn't beg!" I exclaimed, protesting. "In your fucking dreams, Roman!"

He rolled his eyes, taking a step towards me. Feeling his presence inching closer, I stopped kicking the scattered rocks around me, looking up to meet his gaze.

Roman leaned down, matching himself on the level of my widening eyes. He studied me as I froze to my spot like an icicle, holding my breath to not get swept up in thoughts of how good he smelled and how soft his lips looked up close. "You're still running your mouth," he mumbled,  and I felt his eyes fall on my lips as well. "I thought you might get a little nicer if I complied with your little kiss."

His way of thinking had me furrowing my brows, confused. Was that why he kissed me? A tiny piece of my heart broke, the hope I had buried deep in my gut dissolving. Why had I ever hoped that his reasons for kissing me the way he did had been different? "I'll be nice if you agree that I don't owe you anything anymore. It's been driving me nuts,"

With this, Roman broke out into a rather abrupt laugh; "Are you kidding? There's no way in hell I'd absolve you of that, anymore,"

The laugh felt so damning, I couldn't help but shudder. I was two seconds away from kicking him instead of the rocks. "What do you want, then?"

Roman straightened up, the look on his face giving away that he was debating what to choose. "It's probably not something as bad as you expected it to be," he said, nodding to himself as he no longer met my hard gaze. "I'd just like it if you told me why you like me."

What? I stared up at him in disbelief, lips parting in shock. Had I avoided him like the plague over a simple question? Sure, it wasn't the most comfortable one to answer, but my mind had already concluded that he would stick me with needles like a voodoo doll and leave me for dead on a road somewhere.  "Uh... Could I ask why?"

"Nope,"

I nodded; "Okay...?" Clearing my throat, I pondered where to start. I hadn't actually thought about this question, and I had to scour my brain for the answer. "I don't know," I eventually mumbled. "I guess I just think you're handsome." Saying it out loud physically pained me, but I knew I had to get this over with.

Roman blinked twice, meeting my gaze with a rather empty look about him. "That's it?"

"I don't know? I think so," I shrugged, searching through my mind for more. "You're my type, I suppose. Tall, brown hair, green eyes... And unattainable. I guess that a part of me likes that you'll never like me back." Saying this out loud, however, was even worse. I hadn't thought about it like that up until this moment.

Roman seemed even more confused than I did. "So it was nothing that I did?"

Something told me he was searching for something more meaningful, but I had always known that my crush was superficial. "I don't think so..."

What followed would haunt me for days on end; Roman broke out into a rather maniacal laugh, running his hands through his hair in clear denial. "So it's just the same, then," he said in between hiccups of laughter. "It's not about me at all!"

I could only watch as he went into some sort of a mental storm, biting down on his lower lip to suppress the noise. "I don't think you quite understand how it is for no one to like you for you," Roman continued, now pacing back and forth as his trail of words sped up; "You've probably never had that problem, right? Guys probably like you because you're nice to them, I've seen that multiple times. Or that one guy that just hasn't left you alone since you sat together during assembly that one time-- what the fuck was his name?"

I held my breath; what on earth was I witnessing? "Roman, I think you're spiraling, let's just breathe--"

"Daniel, wasn't it?" Roman finally looked back at me, a cramped smile on display along his lips. "He definitely likes you for you, right? Not just because you're cute? That must be fucking nice." 

I had never imagined that I would pity someone for only being liked for their looks. Somehow, I found myself wanting to comfort him, and I had to fight that instinct. "It would probably be easier for you to find something real if you weren't such a prick," I mumbled. "If you didn't tug people's hair, throw stuff at them, or stab them with needles?"

That seemed to be enough for Roman to take a step back from his weird state, his pacing coming to a halt. Something seemed to be dawning on him, a crushing realization that should've come about ten years ago, but instead of taking it like an adult, he retaliated; "Well, you're not exactly doing any better than me! You've liked me for God knows how long, and you've treated me like utter crap!"

"Because you did the same to me!" I said, feeling my voice raise with my emotions. "You've had no interest in me, along with all the bullshit you've pulled all year! Don't you think it would probably be easier for me to like you for who you are if you had been a pleasant person to be around?"

Groaning, Roman turned his back to me, ready to walk away. After taking a few steps, he turned on his heel, facing me once more. Fury was burning in his green, green eyes, fists balling up as he spoke; "This is not over. You tell anyone just a tiny fraction of this conversation, I'll tell Letha I fucked you raw," 

My jaw fell in complete and utter shock as he walked away, cursing myself to the heavens and beyond. How had I managed to make this an even bigger mess than it was before I came? As I went back to kicking rocks, trying to catch my breath, bits of the conversation suddenly came back to me; did he just say that I was cute? That he had seen me with Daniel during assembly, and that he had spotted me talking to my previous flings?

This only made everything furthermore confusing; it was obvious that he didn't like me, either. But what on earth was going on in that brain of his?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

The next time I saw Roman was a few days later in the hallway during rush hour. I had spent several nights tossing and turning, trying to decrypt the conversation that continued to haunt me. The conclusion I arrived at, was that he might be lashing out with the needles and the childish behaviour because he didn't know how else to express interest. 

But then again, that would mean that he was very interested in me. I was sure something was wrong with that conclusion, but I couldn't pinpoint any other possible theory at this moment. I also couldn't shake how upset he looked when he found out my crush was purely superficial; was his need to be seen for who he was so overpowering?

So when I finally flagged him down, Roman was in a rush, and this was rather unfortunate; my legs were much shorter than his, and I had to go into a jog to not lose sight of him. Eventually, I caught up to him, grabbing his wrist and tugging at the sleeve of his shirt to get his attention.

Roman seemed rather confused, glancing down at me with a wild look in his eyes which quickly died out when he saw who it was. "What are you doing?--"

"You smiled at me in class," I confessed, feeling my cheeks redden. "The sun was hitting your eyes in a way that made them extra green, and you smiled at me and handed me a pencil. That's when I knew I liked you." Slowly, I pried my fingers away from his wrist, letting out the breath I didn't know I had been holding. It felt like an enormous weight had lifted off my shoulders, like the anxiety that clung to me had been washed away in a calm stream of water in the mountains.

Why did I feel such strong a need to tell him my crush wasn't purely superficial? That it had stemmed from the simplest act of kindness? I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Did I pity him that much? 

Roman's pupils expanded, and he stood as if glued to his spot. People kept passing us by, but it was as though all the surrounding sound died out. It was clear that his mind was racing, his brows drawing together in confusion-- or was it disgust? I couldn't be sure. Either way, my heart was thumping so hard in my chest that it hurt. 

I cleared my throat; "Have... a nice day," Before he could answer or make fun of me, I turned on my heel and bolted down the hall, knowing my heart wouldn't be able to take it if he shut me down once more. 

I couldn't take any more of this. Clutching my heart as I made it to my locker, I knew I had to get ready for class and that I didn't have time for the crushing feeling taking over my chest. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

A big part of me had hoped that our last interaction would be the end of it all. That I wouldn't have to owe Roman anything anymore, that he wouldn't be threatening to tell Letha that we kissed or fucked or whatever-- I should've known that was an unattainable reality. 

I was practically falling asleep at the end of a long day of school. Exhausted, I allowed myself to close my eyes as I leaned my head against my palm, elbow at my table, waiting for class to start. A worrying thought popped into my head as I realized that chemistry was the only class I shared with Roman, which meant that he would probably be showing any time soon. 

With a yawn, I blinked several times, hoping to wake up as I sat back in my chair. I was about to do some stretches, but as I turned to my right, I let out a yelp, nearly falling off my seat.

And I would've fallen right down to the floor if Roman hadn't grabbed the edge of my chair, holding me back with one hand as though it was nothing. "Careful, there," 

That's exactly what he had said when we were in that damn closet playing seven minutes in heaven. I shivered, getting a severe case of deja vu as I looked back at him in disbelief. "When on earth did you show up?"

"Right around the time you nodded off," Roman's books were already on the table-- had I genuinely slept for a minute or two? How could I have missed this? He let go of my seat with a snicker, shaking his head; "You're quite the case, aren't you?"

I didn't like the sound of that. "What do you want? Why are you sitting here?"

"Could you relax?" Roman rolled his eyes, his mood worsening by the second. "Look around, Sherlock, there's nowhere else to sit."

It pained me to realize he was right. With a huff, I fought the urge to kick him under the table. As the teacher finally entered the classroom, excusing himself for being a few minutes late, I let out a sigh of relief; I hoped to avoid talking to Roman as much as possible from now on. After I had confessed to him and gotten nothing in return again, I was dead tired of seeing his gorgeous face-- it was physically painful, at this point.

As class started, I reached into my bag to find a pencil. A good minute passed by as I rummaged around, which eventually garnered Roman's attention; he immediately knew what I was looking for. He turned to me with a spare pencil which he had lying about on his table, holding it out in front of me.

Someone up there was definitely playing pranks on me-- I was sure of it now. With an embarrassed smile, I watched as the sun hit the green of his eyes, illuminating them further as I reached for the pencil. The tips of our fingers touched, just for a few seconds, but it felt like I had almost burned myself with how my nerves reacted to the nudge of his hand against mine. 

Roman seemed to understand the irony of the situation, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards into a dizzying look of kindness. 

There it was. The root of all my problems-- the simplest act of warmth along with the most beautiful smile I had ever seen. The bullshit that started it all. 

I hummed to myself as I broke eye contact, crouching over my table to start taking notes, desperate to distract myself. Every fibre of my being felt like it was buzzing with electricity, unable to calm down. 

It didn't take long before Roman shoved a small note onto my part of the table. I gave him a look before I opened it, sighing.

we need to talk. meet me by my car after school

Turning to Roman, I couldn't help but glare; this again? But his smirk melted me in more ways than one, and I knew that it could have consequences if I didn't go. 

Fuck.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I waited until there were almost no cars in the parking lot in front of the school, hiding away in the library in the meantime. I didn't exactly want to be seen talking to him. As I finally walked out past the front entrance, I held my breath as I spotted Roman leaning against his red jaguar, typing away on his phone. I wondered who he was texting-- was it Brooke from the cheerleading team? No, it couldn't be; unless she still wanted to be with him after he pricked her with the legendary needle.

It didn't take long for Roman to put away his phone, watching me as I neared him. Something about the way his hair lay in waves over his forehead made him look like even more of a heartbreaker than he already was. "Long time no see, hm?"

I didn't even want to fake being entertained by that-- we both knew that we'd seen each other in class less than twenty minutes ago. "What do you want?"

Roman rolled his eyes; "Can't you at least act like you like me? We both know you do,"

Something about being called out like that didn't sit right with me, but I swallowed my curses. I had to be on his good side, after all, so that he wouldn't turn around and tell Letha what had happened between us. "Did you want me to come skipping down the stairs and run to you?" I asked, getting a good look at him. "Or maybe a blowjob before I bake you a pie?"

A humoured smirk spread across his lips, giving in to a chuckle. "You could at least start by standing a little closer?" Roman put his hands up in the air as though he was surrendering; "Look ma, no needles!"

I huffed, complying. I took a few steps forward, watching the last car leave in my peripheral view. It was definitely not a good idea to be alone with him like this-- I should've known better. 

This didn't seem to be enough for Roman, who proceeded to tap the spot next to him on the hood of his car. 

I groaned; "Roman, come on--"

In a swift motion, he hooked his fingers inside my front pockets, dragging me forward as I yelped. Roman grabbed my hips, forcing me down on the car with a soft thud. With wide eyes, I turned to him, watching his hands disappear back into his pockets. 

"You're infuriating," Roman mumbled under his breath, fishing out a pack of cigarettes from his right pocket. He held it out in front of me; "Want one?"

Honestly, I had only smoked once. It had resulted in me coughing up what felt like half a lung. "No, thanks," 

He shrugged, lighting up a cigarette as he hummed. This little dance around why he had told me to come made me further nervous, once again reaching for the sleeve of my sweater, tugging at the seams that had come loose. The smell of nicotine infiltrated my nose, and I turned to him just in time to watch him exhale a few rings of smoke, eyes transfixed on them as they evaporated into thin air. 

Finally, Roman spoke up; "I'm calling for a truce,"

What? My eyes widened, scanning him for lies. "... What's the catch?"

Roman turned to me, a slight smile splayed across his lips. "You know me too well," he said, chuckling as a light breeze passed us. "I want us to play a game, and then all is forgotten."

"Oh no," I blurted out. "What kind of game, Roman? Can't you take pity on me just once?--"

I immediately shut up as I felt his arm wrap around me, holding out his cigarette in front of my mouth between his fingers. I wasn't about to start fighting him in an empty parking lot, so I parted my lips, accepting the cigarette despite knowing I would cough up everything I had eaten for lunch if I inhaled properly. 

Roman's face was suddenly very close to mine; "Ever heard of this game... Wait, what was it called? Seven minutes in hell?"

For fuck's sake. I watched as he laughed, amused by his joke. Still, my eyes darted down to his bouncing leg, watching as he gave away a sliver of nervousness. I reached for the cigarette, getting it out of my mouth; "Sounds about right," Balancing it between my fingers, holding it out in front of his mouth just as he had done to me, Roman hummed as he wrapped his lips around the cigarette, taking a puff.

Before Roman could take it back into his hand, I pulled the cigarette away from him, putting it back into my mouth. Something about sharing the cigarette was making a familiar ache between my legs throb, which in turn made me cross my legs. I didn't inhale the smoke into my lungs, keeping it in my mouth before breathing it out, knowing it was hard to differentiate between that and the real thing. "Where would we play?" I eventually said, glancing at him.

Now that we were sitting like this, Roman's arm around me, I realized we hadn't been this close since that party where we had kissed. Something about his embrace was comforting, despite me knowing that he was doing it to take the piss out of me. However, my steadfast belief in his reasons became shaky as I met his eyes, watching how unusually big his pupils were as he looked down at me, a certain calmness about him. "My car?"

I couldn't help but giggle as I handed him the cigarette, our fingers meeting in the exchange. "I'm not making out with you in your car,"

"Why not?"

"Every single cheerleader slut at this school has been in the back of that thing," 

Roman shrugged; "Not everyone. Eleven out of fifteen,"

"Ew, you're not making it any better!--"

"Fine!" he huffed, giving me a squeeze with the arm he had around me. Roman put out his cigarette by throwing it to the ground, giving it a proper stomp before he turned to me, a mischievous smirk on display. "No one has been in the front, though."

It was hard to say no when he looked at me like this; how was it possible for someone so conniving to be so beautiful? I had to look away from Roman-- it was getting impossible to breathe. Tugging at my sleeves once more, I realized I had ripped out a new seam. "Look, I have to say I'm a little confused... You're not even into me, so I don't get why you'd want to kiss me again," I let go of my sweater, realizing I would probably manage to rip it all apart if I didn't calm down. "It really is a power thing for you, isn't it?"

Roman hummed, rubbing my arm in a soothing manner as he stared out at the parking lot with a rather hollow look in his eyes. "Yeah... That's definitely what it is,"

I didn't have time to wonder why he didn't sound so convinced. As I dared to look at him again, I watched him lost in thought, pondering something. I took that as my cue to get out of playing his game; "Making out would probably be fun and all, but don't you think it is more beneficial for you if we maybe got to... I don't know, know each other?"

Confused, Roman's gaze darted back to me. "Why?"

"You seemed to be a little upset that I didn't like you because of you, remember?" I gave him a playful nudge, drawing forth a smile. "Instead of imposing your weird dominance kink or whatever it is on me, wouldn't you want to prove that there's more to you?"

This seemed to strike a chord with Roman, who slowly started to nod in approval. "That... doesn't sound so bad,"

I damn right hoped so-- I let out a shaky breath, relieved to not become the twelfth girl to end up in Roman's car.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I couldn't believe that I had managed to fix myself up with a date with the Roman Godfrey. He was practically known for never going out on dates with anyone, but here I was, running around my room trying to find something nice to wear.

However, there was one tiny hoop I had to get through-- Letha was on speaker phone as I rummaged through my drawers, and my heart was racing as I tried to avoid her questions."I still don't get why you can't hang out today!" Letha whined, clearly upset with me. "I thought you were going to help me pick out some shoes down at the sale!"

I grimaced, feeling like the biggest prick on the planet. "I'm sorry, Letha, I'm just not feeling too good..." With a heavy heart, I could hear her sulk on the other end as I finally found the perfect bag. 

"I've barely seen you this week... You've been so jumpy, I just feel like you're avoiding me. Did I do something?"

No, no! I was about to protest until I heard a sound coming from my driveway; I made my way to my window, glancing down at Roman's red car, watching as he parked. Clearing my throat, I rushed to my phone; "Letha, I'm so fucking nauseous, I think I need to throw up... I'm so sorry, could I call you back later?"

I heard her sigh; "Get better soon, okay?--"

As Roman started honking outside, clearly impatient, I had to leave the call without even saying goodbye. Groaning, I gathered my stuff, making my way down the stairs and outside with hurried steps. "Stop that!" I said, trying to steady my breathing as I approached the car. "My parents are inside!"

"So what?" Roman's cocky smirk was on display as always, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "Whatever dumb fuck told you I'm a patient man, is a dumb fuck." Roman got out of his car to open my door on the other side. It was nice to see that he had a gentleman bone in him-- it gave me hope that this date wouldn't crash and burn. 

And weirdly enough, it actually went quite well. I had been worried that he'd take me out shooting or whatever it was that he did in his free time, but Roman settled for something simple-- we were currently sat in my favourite café in the city, having the most normal conversation we'd ever had. 

"You're kidding me?" Roman said, putting down his coffee with a look of shock on his face. "You've never seen The Godfather?"

I couldn't help but huff-- this was a solid reminder that he still was a guy at the end of the day. "I haven't gotten to it, I guess,"

"Well, you have to!" He ran his fingers through his styled hair, shaking his head in disapproval. Roman was wearing a different shirt today that I hadn't seen before, and I was getting the feeling that he had actually dressed up a bit despite how casual this date was. "What else haven't you seen?" 

"Uh, I don't know?--"

"What else haven't you done, is probably a better question," Roman was grinning from ear to ear now, eyes sparkling in anticipation. "First kiss?"

"David Parker, eighth grade," I put down my milkshake with a smirk, happy to be sizing him up. "You?"

Roman seemed beyond amused; "Amanda Reiley, sixth," He leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table, intrigued that I wasn't backing down from his intrusive questions. "First time?"

I had to suppress a cough, feeling as though I was choking on air. There was no way in hell I'd tell him I hadn't had sex yet. "... Some guy I met on vacation last year in Greece, don't remember his name,"

"Really, now?" Roman hummed, leaning back against his chair. "Not buying it. You squirm like a virgin every time I look at you."

My breath caught in my throat-- "Pardon?"

It seemed that my reaction only amused him, but he still spared me by brushing over it. "My first time was with Denise Campbell, ninth grade. Was really sweet, actually,"

I tried to shake off the fact that Roman had been right in his deductions. The story of his first time was unexpected, and he had been quite young-- concerningly young. "Roman Godfrey and sweet don't usually go together, in my book. Did you light candles or something?" I took a sip of my milkshake, watching him break out into a smile. 

"Honestly? I think she lit one," he said, a soft chuckle following.

 I had forgotten how beautiful his laugh was. Flustered, I put away my milkshake, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I met his gorgeous, green eyes. There was a calmness about him now, something I had trouble getting used to. It was a big contrast to the way he had looked at me while we played seven minutes in heaven, or the way he had been looking at me the whole week I had avoided him. The usual feeling of unease that crept up my system whenever he was around was long gone-- it was almost as though we were friends. 

Nervous about my next question, I started picking at my nails; "So where did it go wrong?"

"Pardon?"

I didn't meet his gaze anymore. "When did it become casual to you?"

"Sex?"

"Sex,"

Roman hummed, taking a rather long sip of coffee. I wondered whether I had gone too far with the question, but he didn't seem fazed. "Didn't get too far with being sweet, I suppose,"

This was definitely a chapter in Roman's life that I hadn't expected to hear about-- who had broken his heart? And why was it comforting to know that he'd had that experience? Something about it made him more human. "That's sad," I mumbled, forcing myself to leave my nails alone. "Sweet usually gets you quite far."

Something about that seemed to intrigue him; he moved to the edge of his chair, closer. "Don't you girls usually like the bad guys? That seems to work well, in my experience,"

I shrugged; "It can be fun for a week or two. Any longer than that, and your heart starts to tire,"

"Ah," was all Roman said, tapping his fingers against the table in an impatient manner. "Would you want to get ice cream? It's on me."

This conversation was starting to give me whiplash. "I'm sold," I eventually answered, shooting him a smile. It was nice to know that he wanted to continue the date despite my intrusive questions-- I couldn't lie; I was rather enjoying myself. And my ego was getting the biggest inflation it'd had in a while, remembering he didn't usually go out on dates at all.

About half an hour later, we were now walking down the street with our ice cream, once again debating why I hadn't watched The Godfather-- boys really love that movie, don't they? I took the liberty of looking up at him as he explained the plot to me in excessive detail, watching his hands flail around in excitement as he spoke, eyes round and green, and the way a single strand of hair lay in front of his eyes, straying from his stylings.

The man I had hated this whole year suddenly became a person to me. A person with interests, quirks, and feelings-- weirdly enough. Roman didn't come off as a spoiled brat right now, and I could barely remember a time when I would run away from him and his needles. Like this, I could imagine sweet moments with Roman, possibly even holding his hand as we walked down this street, doing normal stuff together. 

In another lifetime, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

However, I was quickly yanked out of my daydreams when I spotted a familiar figure leaving the shoe store across the street. With a panicked yelp, I grabbed Roman, dragging him down the nearest alleyway as I felt my blood run cold. 

Roman looked beyond confused; "What are you?--"

"Letha!" 

His mouth formed an 'o', watching me press myself up against the wall. "She doesn't know?"

I shook my head, letting out a shaky breath. This was definitely not what I needed right now. If she found out I was here with Roman and that I had lied to her, I was sure she'd have my head. Why couldn't I just melt into the wall and become immaterial? 

With ease and calm, Roman grabbed my finished ice cream, putting it down on the ground along with his own before nearing me. "We'll wait it out,"

What? "Thought you were ready to rat me out?" I leaned forward, glancing past the corner of the alley, making sure Letha hadn't seen us. 

"Well..." Roman put his hand on my shoulder, guiding my back to the wall once more. "I know she'd kill you, and you can't die before watching The Godfather."

Had I not been preoccupied with being quiet, I would've groaned right in his cocky face. The hand he had on my shoulder burned against my skin, and I was getting flashbacks to our time in the closet at the party where we had kissed. "I've repaid my debt to you now, anyway," I mumbled, warily glancing past the edge of the corner where we were standing, watching Letha from afar. 

Roman's hand on my shoulder quickly made its way into my hair, fingers twisting themselves into the nape of my neck, forcing me to face him. I let my breath escape me as my lips parted, watching him with big, wide eyes; what was happening? It was at this moment that I realized how close he was standing, how he was practically pressed up against me.

There was something sinister about the look on Roman's face-- it suddenly dawned on me that he was still the same person, even though he had buried this side of him for a few hours. He would always thrive when seeing someone in an anxious state, feel joy at any visible conflict or misery, and it dawned on me how bad of a situation this was when his next words came out in a dangerous whisper; "I could just call her over here, do you know that?" Roman's grip on my hair tightened, almost enough to make me wince. "You've made quite a mess of yourself, sneaking behind her back. I could ruin you in a second."

"You won't, though," Fucker.

Intrigued, Roman's green eyes sparkled; "And why are you so sure of that?"

My chest was heaving against him, hating every second, every minute of this encounter. When had he turned into such a sadist? Was it after Denise Campbell in ninth grade? I wanted to make sure I asked him that next time. "Because this gets you high," I hissed. "This feeling that you get from watching me get scared? You're addicted. You're a fucking junkie." 

I felt Roman breathe out against my lips, leaning closer, eyes burning into mine. I could see the flickering flames in them, and I knew that I had set them alight-- I was quite literally playing with fire at this point. "Well, this is who I am," he said through gritted teeth. "Do you get it now?"

"Get what?"

"Why no one likes me," Now, the fire died out, turning into an unintelligible emotion swimming in the green of his eyes. I didn't need to be a specialist to understand that he was baring his coping mechanism for me to see. "Why no one ever will. And why you will go back to hating me once we're done here."

It felt as though I had finally finished a puzzle with five thousand pieces. This was it. Had Roman made himself so unlovable to protect his feelings? Were all his stupid quirks just means to scare away girls so that they would stop liking him? I couldn't help but pity him-- beneath his harsh exterior, I could sense who he was beneath all of it. In a flash of emotions, I reached out to touch his face with a wary, gentle touch. 

Roman's eyes widened, confused, as I moved away the strand of hair that strayed from the rest.

"I know you said this wouldn't be easy," I said, voice soft. "Whatever would ensue between us. And I spent a lot of time thinking about that, actually, and I think the answer is that you just make it hard for yourself." Sighing, I let my hands rest against his shoulders, watching his every move and reaction. It was obvious that he was caught off guard. "I pity you, Roman. But I thank you for making me realize how much guts one must have to feel... Why are you so scared?"

Roman just stared at me, his breathing coming out in shallow breaths through his nose. He stood as if frozen to his spot, and his hand left my hair, falling to his side as his eyes never left mine. "I'm not scared," he eventually said.

"You're terrified,"

"No,"

"There's no point denying, it's really fucking obvious--"

"No, it isn't!" Roman snarled, grabbing my hands, and prying them off of him. "Maybe I just don't like you in that way, have you ever considered that?"

I shrugged; "I have. But it still doesn't change the fact that I can read the fear on your face like an open fucking book,"

Groaning, Roman let out an exasperated sigh. He let go of my hands, the fury apparent in his unsteady breathing. It was obvious that he had never confronted his issues head-on, and that he didn't like the process one bit. "You need to watch your mouth,"

"Or what?" It was as though my fear had escaped me, staring him down with challenge burning its way through my veins. "You're going to tell Letha we fucked or whatever? Go ahead, see what I care! Just know that I will be telling the whole school that your dick is smaller than my pinky if you do."

Roman's eye twitched as he let out a guttural growl, body tensing up as he balled his fists, one of them returning to my hair. It was clear that I had angered him; he grabbed a fistful, yanking my head upward with a force that made me wince, pulling me flush against him. It was at this moment that I felt something press up against my stomach-- my eyes widened with the realization that he was hard. "Do you still like me?" he asked, his breath tickling the underside of my nose. 

When I refused to answer, Roman took my silence as a yes. "You're going to hurt yourself if you continue to,"

"Wasn't it you who proclaimed me a masochist?" I answered, a smirk forming on my lips. Something told me that I had him cornered. 

And I was right-- it was Roman's turn to go silent, staring into my eyes as multiple emotions flashed before him. Standing like this with him was almost comforting; I had finally deciphered him. I knew that he had practically built himself a fortress of hate and fired the canons at any signs of intrusions. He was so desperately human right now-- it was making me dizzy. Or was that just his harsh grip on my hair? 

"Roman?"

A hum.

"You can kiss me now if you want to,"

The hand in my hair loosened its grip, and I watched as Roman inhaled a long breath, no longer conflicted.

And so our lips came together in the alley, a rather hungry kiss ensuing. My hands went up into Roman's hair, letting out soft gasps against him as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer to him with a burning need. I could taste the remnants of the chocolate flavoured ice-cream on his tongue, the sweetness mixing in with the roughness of our kiss. I wondered whether he could taste the vanilla on mine-- chocolate and vanilla were my favourite mix, anyway.

I knew there was a possibility of Letha spotting us if she walked our way, but it only made me more desperate for Roman. I had missed him dearly, the memories of our last kiss having haunted me through every hour of every day. There was no doubt in it now-- he wanted me too. It gave me such an immense rush, along with the satisfaction of feeling how hard he was against me, the throbbing of his cock continuing against my stomach as he pressed me further into the wall behind me. Something felt wrong about him being aroused after our fight, especially now that we were practically in public, but I knew I didn't want to push him away just yet. 

I was completely breathless by the time Roman shifted, his thigh now pressing up against the apex of my own. Caught off guard, I whimpered as he grabbed my hips, moving my hips against him as the kiss deepened, growing further needy. I could feel it in my bones; not only did he want me, he needed me. This was just about the biggest high I had ever had. Roman Godfrey-- all mine in this moment.

The friction between my legs, feeling his cock continuously brush up against my stomach through our clothes, had me gripping his shoulder, disconnecting our kiss to catch my breath. My head rolled back against the wall behind me as I pondered how I had allowed this to happen, not used to pleasure caused by others. 

Roman's fingers wrapped around my throat, holding me in place as we rocked against each other, lips hovering above one another before they came crashing together once more, unable to keep away. I let out a broken whimper, my hands flying back up into his hair, pulling him closer as pleasure coursed through my veins in a way I hadn't ever felt before. I couldn't quite put my finger on what this was, but I had never been this certain that I liked it.

I let out a broken moan as my head rolled back once more, which in turn had Roman connecting our lips, muffling any sounds. This was where I was reminded that we were in public, wondering if I had gone absolutely mad-- I blamed it all on him. His beautiful eyes, his strong arms, and his addicting, soft lips. As Roman continued to grind me up against his thigh, pulling away to watch my lips part and my body squirm in pleasure, I gazed up at the way the corners of his mouth turned up into his signature smirk. He knew exactly what he was doing-- messing with me like this, practically in public. 

It took a lot of willpower for me to push him away, whimpering slightly at the loss of contact. "We-- We can't," I said, catching my breath. 

Like this, I could see how disheveled Roman's hair was, how his lips looked swollen with kisses, and it made my stomach flip-- how was it possible for someone to be so beautiful, even when completely unraveled? 

Roman shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. It was clear that he was scanning my look of arousal; "My car is right around the corner,"

"Okay...?"

Leaning forward, Roman captured my lips in a short kiss. "I can park it somewhere desolate," he said, nipping at my lower lip. 

I couldn't help but shiver-- that sounded really fucking nice at the moment, but I knew I had to control myself. And I wasn't about to lose my virginity in a car? "Another time," I mumbled, struggling to catch my breath. Who would've known that arousal could cloud the mind like this? 

Roman nodded, accepting my words as a promise. "I'll hold you to that,"

Oh no-- This again? Great.

Just great.

(a/n: here are the links to PART 1, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9!<33 thank you for reading!!)

[iiotic]

─── જ ‎` ‎𓂃 ‎ ticci toby general headcanons

𖦹 ‎ quick disclaimer: the slendermansion doesn't exist in this universe, did i enjoy reading it some years ago? yes, i loved it and i still enjoy reading it from time to time, but would i want to write about it? naah.

english is not my first language, i apologize for any grammar mistakes.

masterlist | nav.

practically isn't homeless but is? he made himself a little apartment in an abandoned butchers house. he has his mini fridge in there, some mattress, pillows and a blanket left behind so he thought, why not make it his?

collects mugs and cds!! even though most of the time he isn't drinking from the mugs nor listening to music 24/7.

whenever his tics get really bad, he likes to listen to the cds he collects, it calms him down.

cannot drive for the life of him.

knows the forest like the back of his hand, knows every shortcut, every trap, where every lake is, where other creeps might be located; like the rake.

the gash on his cheek is fully healed, but it doesn't really look pleasing to the eye. basically there's still a hole in his cheek but the meat around it is healed and sorta dry? i dont know how to describe that.

because of that when he is in public he wears a bandage over his cheek to not scare the shit out of people. its not like he gets weird stares for his tourettes from intolerant people or pity stares from those empathetic ones already, but there's also his favourite type, the normal i don't give a shit one.

is easily irritated by loud chewing, someone breathing though their mouth or slow walkers.

hear me out, his style is something between midwest emo, grunge and a slight touch of fairy core.

loves tim burton movies! doesn't have a favourite.

tries to get his hygene under control, showers at hotels or in the lake as he doesn't have water in his hut. he really doesn't want to stink like one of his fellow individuals *cough cough* jeff.

cannot stand pure black coffee, thinks its disgusting.

wants to learn how to play the guitar but doesn't know where to start.

visits lyras grave at least every two weeks, he misses her deeply.

touch starved, but feels uncomfortable if anyone who isn't really really ckose to him touches him.

sometimes spends his time with tim and brian (he sees them as a father figures, WHO SAID THAT??)

has friend-hatred relationship with jeff.

canonically was in a relationship with clockwork but shit happened and they broke up. i like to think that they broke up 'couse clockwork came out as lesbian and the chemistry between them wasn't chemistrying, yk?

is closer friend with BEN and ej, no questions asked no questions needed.

is heavily manipulated, brainwashed by the operator to kill people.

he's on team samsung, thinks iphones sucks.

© 2024 iiotic. — do not steal, translate or repost any of my content onto any other platform

[justkending]

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt (Chapter 2)

Series Summary: Two of the most stubborn people in the group partnered together for an undercover mission are also the two people with the most hatred for each other, so what could go wrong? Or is it, what COULDN’T go wrong?…

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger Reader

Word Count: 3900+

A/N Note: You guys... Thank you for the overwhelming support on this series. You guys are the sweetest :) I've loved reading your series and promise I love them; just haven't had the chance to respond! Again, thank you for the love, as it's all turned back to you!

As for the chapter... Let's make it more fun (otherwise known as interesting) ;)

_________________

Bucky’s POV

Hidden bugs weren’t new business to us, so after disposing of the picture frame, they gifted us with a note saying, “For your new home, and your first picture in it! ;)”... It was an easy ‘accidental’ drop. 

However, quickly after that, wouldn’t you know it? A new basket showed up on our porch with another set of welcome-to-the-neighborhood gifts from the whole neighborhood this time…

Y/N had ‘accidentally’ placed the newly potted plant, that they had somehow added a very impressively hidden camera on, too close to the edge of the entryway table, so when she came through the door quickly with her arms full of more boxes, the pot was no longer usable. Shame… We did buy our own pot for said plant, so we still got a new piece of greenery without the bugs. 

After those two failed attempts, we hoped our show of clumsiness warded off the assholes and made us less intimidating. And yes, I use that word because I could read easily from our first meeting that they were sizing us up. Analyzing our act and manipulating themselves into our lives in a careful yet planned manner. 

For extra measure on the clumsy showcase, Y/N drove into the trashcans I had forgotten to pull to the curb, making a public display of her character’s clumsiness. Though I later learned she was actually just pissed that I forgot to put them out and found a way for me to pay the consequences in our squabble on the lawn. 

A squabble that started out a hundred percent authentic and then turned into a fake makeup season when the neighbors peaked their heads out. 

“This jughead would forget his head if it weren’t on his shoulders,” Y/N slapped my chest before patting it harshly and smiling at the seventy-year-old next-door neighbor, Gertrude, who always happened to find her rose bushes interesting, only when people were outside. 

She smiled and laughed at Y/N’s wide grin before waving her on as she snipped a few thorns. 

“God, I hate it here,” Y/N said through her teeth, holding her fake smile as she walked past me into the house.

A few more preplanned acts happened while we were outside to show the community that our accidental breaking of their bugs was just that—accidental. It was not planned and discovered at all. 

It had been two weeks so far, and we’d already been invited to a food truck social, a street parade for a family leaving the neighborhood, and an outdoor movie night. All events you would have thought had the same planning committee as the MET Gala with how thorough they were… At least, that's what Y/N said, and I choose to believe that it holds some form of significance.

Tonight, we went over to another couple's house that was high up in the HOA group for a neighborhood barbeque, one where Y/N’s damn lilac tennis dress she had worn to workout with a neighbor, made more than half the dads and men too old and married to be staring, struggle to keep their eyes off her. 

I had told her that keeping a hand on her during most of the party was for the act, but genuinely, I didn’t care for how the men of the group gawked at her. Something gave me a bad feeling about it. And I didn’t understand why Y/N wasn’t phased at all or even slightly uneasy, considering she was just as trained as me to assess and sense all that attention.

As soon as we were behind closed doors back in our secure home, my first question was, “Did you really not feel their eyes on you?” 

She was in the middle of taking off her shoes, talking about some information she had gotten from a group of stay-at-home wives, something related to our mission, but I couldn’t seem to wrap my head around how unphased she was with the unnerving type of attention she was getting there. 

“What?” She paused as she bent to take off a tennis shoe. 

“All those guys, the husbands, and pervs at the cookout. You didn’t notice them staring at you?” I asked again, rolling my sleeves of button-down I had on up to my elbow.

She stared at me for a moment and then rolled her eyes as if she had figured out where I was going with this. Spoiler: she was far off the mark. 

“Listen, if you’re saying that thanks to this dress, which, yes, is a little short, but who the hell cares, is the reason why men were,” she straightened, kicking off both her shoes fluently, now only in socks. “Gawking at me, as you put it-.” 

“I didn’t say that,” I straightened, furrowing my eyebrows. 

“Oh, but you did,” she sassed with a shrug, continuing. “Under your breath when you came up, and you staked your claim by never taking your arm away from my waist for the night.”

“I didn’t say that,” I shook my head. I said it in my head, but I hadn’t said that out loud… Had I?

“Ugh, whether you did or didn’t, I could tell you were judging,” she huffed, rolled her shoulders, and walked past me to the kitchen, going straight to the fridge.

It took me a minute, but I figured out where her mind had gone. “I was judging them, Y/N,” I  shook my head. “I was judging the horny, married, and dusty-ass men that couldn’t keep their damn tongue from falling to the floor with you in the vicinity. Like their wives had deprived them of any kind of physical touch for the last decade, and they couldn’t keep it in their pants any longer.” 

I realized I may have explained more of my thought process than I intended, but she shut the fridge door she had hidden behind and turned to me, scanning, assessing. 

“You were jealous.” The corner of her lip raised at her statement. 

“What?” I scoffed. “No, loser,” I scoffed again, and clearly, I wasn’t selling my answer because she didn’t lose her growing grin. “I just took notice of how much attention you got, and it concerned me that the ideas most of those men were having were far from civil ones.” 

She stared at me for a minute, and I felt uncomfortable in my own skin as she weighed her options regarding how she wanted to react. We still had plenty of fights, but they have been somewhat decreasing lately, and I was hoping we could keep that streak going.

Her assessing stopped, and her grin grew again. “Awe, the Tinman does have a heart.”

And she ruined it. Surprise, surprise. 

“It’s sweet that you care, old man,” she twisted the lid to the drink she had pulled out of the fridge and took a swig before looking at me. “But that’s just a day in the life of a woman. Nothing new to me or anyone with the double X chromosomes.” She shrugged nonchalantly. 

“I mean, obviously, people look at you,” I started, and she balanced her elbows on the counter before resting her chin on her fist. I continued before I realized my wording. “Before you-”

“Obviously?” She emphasized my word choice. “Keeping notes on an awful lot of things lately, huh, Buck?” she whispered my name like it was a secret, and I knew it was for the odd case someone could hear us, but something about her tone made my chest freeze. “Tell me, what else do you notice…?” She tilted her head one way as she stared at me. 

I wasn’t going to lie and say her words didn’t flustered me, but as a reflex, I jumped back into the normal banter.

“You’re not funny, jackass,” I deadpanned and turned on my heel to walk away.

“Oh, stop being such a baby,” she shouted after me, and I heard her sock-clad feet slide on the hardwoods to catch up with me. “Listen, I think it’s nice you’re taking notice of stuff like this. Most men never pay attention to those kinds of things because they don’t have to. It’s not really a normal day-to-day experience for them, so they don’t get it. They don’t HAVE to get it.”

I stopped and turned in my march, and she slid into me from just two steps behind me. I caught her easily, bracing my hands on her biceps to steady her. She let out a huff of air as our chests flushed to each other and then looked up at me. 

“You’re murder strut is too fast for me to keep up with,” she mumbled, scrunching her nose in a relaxed way. 

I closed my eyes for a minute but didn’t let go of her before I channeled back my seriousness. 

“I’ve learned men are assholes, trust me. In this field, we come across some of the worst misogynistic weasels to exist. Wear whatever you want. You have scary dog privileges now. The attire issue isn't what I was getting at,” I replied, thinking of the reference the Parker kid had explained to me recently.

Her smile was unlike any I had the pleasure to be on the receiving end of, and I immediately mentally captured it, worried that I’d never experience the genuineness she was sharing with me in this moment again. 

“Scary dog privileges, huh? Someone’s been brushing up on their TikTok trends.” She laughed, scanning my face as I scanned hers. “Peter finally invested in his version of Duolingo? This one labeled new-age-slang-for-100-years-and-older?”

“Actually called, Born-in-1910’s-and-on-the-comeback-of-a-70-year-coma-new-age-lingo. Very helpful,” I retorted, and the surprise on her face as she laughed at me made my grip on her soften, my thumb unconsciously running over the bone on her wrist. 

The action brought both of our eyes to the feeling, and in the next second, we had three feet between us. 

“I’m going to go take a shower.” Her rush to get around me in the narrow hall caused her to brush along my arm, and it was like the sparks that ignited when I held her tried to reach out for each other again in the brief contact. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” I grumbled, walking quickly in the opposite direction. 

____________________

Y/N’s POV

The last two weeks have been frustrating, but somehow, Bucky and I have learned we work together surprisingly well. We still had our bickering fights and annoying quarrels, but stick us in a house for a few weeks, and we realized we did well at balancing each other out. 

Where I hated doing the dishes, he made sure they were done every night. Where he hated doing laundry, I folded and sorted the linens and clothes. I hated cooking, and he somehow was really good at it. I loved to bake when we had free time, and he loved to taste test. I sucked at most things gardening-wise, and he had shown me how to prune overgrown flowers in our gardening bed. Bucky sucked at interior decorating, so I was in charge of making our fake abode look like a real one. 

Overall, we do pretty well, considering we hate each other's guts. Ok, well… I don’t necessarily hate his guts, even if I act it. I just have a very low tolerance for his bullshit and don’t mask my frustrations when they hit their limits. As for being a fake wife to him where he has to treat me well… He’s been a picture-perfect husband from a suburban wife’s perspective.

The only thing we’ve successfully avoided that I was worried about is sharing the same bed. 

After confirming with the higher-ups that our house was bug-free, we claimed our own rooms (me in the master, of course) and set up our own space. Keeping the facade of a happy married couple outside of those rooms and the house was easy, but I dreaded the day we would have to show more affection and closeness than what we already had. 

So far, a kiss on the cheek, holding hands, a hug from behind, and a normal amount of PDA that showed we were in our honeymoon phase yet did not want to make others fully uncomfortable did the job enough. But after Bethanne commented about when we planned on having kids, I figured we might need to bump up our act since she gave a passive comment about us being ‘rather tamed for a newlywed couple.’

Before I could bring up the comment to Bucky once we got home, he seemed more bothered by the men at the party than anything. 

I didn’t expect him to notice such a minute thing, but if there was one thing I had learned about Bucky these last few weeks, it’s that he’s very attentive to details I wouldn’t expect him to be on.

Then, to further my confusion about the situation, something seemed different in our intimate hallway space run-in, and both of us scurried away as if the touch of each other burned. 

After my shower, I got dressed in my pajamas and heard the TV still on in the living room, where Bucky tended to station himself for a few hours before bed. Well, his bedtime. Another thing about us was that I wasn’t much of a night owl, but I did appreciate knowing someone was on alert while I slept. And even if he didn’t do it for that reason, I’m sure, I liked hearing the TV still on when I tended to wake up in the middle of the night. I felt safer…

“Hey,” I leaned against the wall coming into the living room and saw that he had Brooklyn Nine-Nine on with a computer sat in his lap. 

He looked up and gave me a quick head nod before going back to the screen in front of him. “What’s up?”

“Just needed to fill you in on some of the things I learned at the cookout,” I let out a yawn as the day caught up with me and moved to the single chair across from him on the couch. 

“Hit me,” he rolled his shoulders back, never looking away from the blue light. 

“Don’t ask for things you don’t really want,” I teased, and he looked above the screen at me with a glance that seemed to be holding back a smile before rolling his eyes. 

“What’d you learn?” he followed up with. 

I went on to tell him about the neighborhood drama. All things that may or may not have any major plays to our mission, but information nonetheless. 

“Did you ask any of them about work?” Bucky asked once I had covered most everything. 

Our undercover jobs were simple. I worked from home as a data entry clerk. Something boring that Charolette Hunt has been hoping to get out of and find her passion. All this led to me asking around about job connections and if there was anything I could swap over to for a ‘more exciting work life,’ otherwise known as drug trafficking jobs if they were available. 

As for Beau Hunt, Bucky’s cover, he was the owner of a transportation company. Considering how well he was doing, he took the last two weeks off to move into his first home with his new wife before having to get back into the work ethic he had been thriving in the last ten years. 

All perfect pieces to get the answers and resources from our sketchy neighbors we came here for. 

“I asked Katrina, one of the wives of a guy who works closely alongside Reggie. I figured that was a good seed to plant,” I answered, pulling my legs up to my chest and resting my chin on my knees as I watched Jake Peralta chase a bad guy down the streets of New York. I missed the homeland. “She said she’d ask around, which is what I needed. What about you? Any of the 'dusty-ass husbands' have fun details to share?”

“Nothing more than statistics of sports teams and rookie starters for the state college basketball team,” he sighed, and I turned over to see him staring at me before turning back to his computer quickly. “Reggie was giving me a hard time, though.”

“Oh yeah?” I hummed, angling myself to him. “Bethanne was giving me a hard time, too.”

“Think it’s related to the same thing?” Bucky chuckled, looking back at me, but whatever was in his eyes just seconds ago was gone now. 

“Say on the count of three?” I smirked. 

“One,” he nodded.

“Two.”

“Three.”

“When we’re going to consider joining parenthood,” Bucky said. 

“When we’re having kids,” I said at the same time. “Almost a jinx if you didn’t word it so damn robotically. Did fucking Vision channel into your damn cyborg brain?” I laughed, and I heard a slight scoff from his direction before I rolled my head back and looked up at the ceiling. I stayed quiet until Bucky broke me out of my thoughts twenty seconds later.

“What are you thinking?” I heard the computer shut and then be placed on the cushion next to him. “I can hear the gears working past their limit.” His weak version of a retort.

I lulled my stare at him and deadpanned a bitchface at him. “You talking to yourself again?” He rolled his eyes at my comeback, and I decided to bypass the banter. “I think we need to step our game up. Ms. Bethanne thinks we’re ‘tamed’ for a newlywed couple. In other words, she thinks we’re prudes.”

“We’ve hit the PDA marks we need to,” Bucky stiffened just enough for a trained eye to see, but he tried to brush it off as getting comfortable in his spot. 

“Hmm, so maybe one of us is a prude,” I shrugged, moving my legs under me and leaning on one side of the chair. 

We hadn't kissed, although I would peck one on his cheek, and he would place one on top of my head. But that's as far as either of us had been willing to go.

I know our job may require us to go beyond that, and I was willing to keep it strictly professional even if necessary, but Bucky seemed to want to avoid it by all means. Message received.

“I’m not a prude. I just don’t understand why people have to be so touchy in public. It makes everyone uncomfortable,” he argued. 

“Not everyone finds discomfort in those acts. A lot of people think it’s cute.”

“I’m not one of those fucking people.”

“Well, you better figure out pretty fucking quick how to become one of those people because this operation kinda depends on it.” I sighed, standing up and stretching. “Listen, I know you hate me and all, but if we’re going to get this done and over with, we need to-”

“I’ve never said I hate you,” Bucky interrupted. I looked down and saw him staring at me with stern eyes.

“Actions have convinced me otherwise.” 

“The same could be said for you.” 

“I don’t hate you,” I clarified after carefully studying him for lies. 

It was an intense stare-off, but not one where I felt like I had to win it. One where I felt we were both taking a step into new territory, and neither of us knew what to expect. 

Bucky’s burner phone rang right before I could follow up with my peace offering, and we saw it was the fake caller ID Steve was under. He picked it up and put it on speaker. 

“What’s up, punk?” he answered, and Steve scoffed on the other end. 

“Just your biweekly check-in. Anything interesting enough to make this phone call longer than 5 minutes?” he asked. 

“Don’t think so,” Bucky sighed and filled him in on the steps we had taken to further the investigation. Planting our gossip seeds where necessary and waiting for the garden to grow. 

The call ended with Steve informing Bucky that he ‘started back at work’ tomorrow and would need to go to a specific meeting spot for updates. A way for us to get news that couldn’t be tracked with phone calls and messages. And after two weeks of gathering information and only four check-ins in that time, things were meant to pick up now. 

I had decided to head back to my room when a normal conversation between the two started up and strayed from the mission talk. Then, about 10 minutes later, Bucky was in my doorway as I got ready for bed. 

“Sorry, Steve wanted to know if we had torn each other’s heads off yet. Nat and him have a bet going,” he said, leaning on the doorway and crossing his arms over his chest. 

I shrugged, pulling the comforter back on the bed. “No need to apologize. And who’s winning?” 

“Steve gave it 3 weeks, so he’s still in the running.”

“He’s being generous,” I laughed, fluffing a pillow before sitting on the edge and looking at him. 

“I don’t know. I think we’ve managed to stay surprisingly civil given our relationship,” he smiled softly as if the conversation wasn’t dangerous grounds and could easily go one way or the other. 

“Helps that we have to act for most of it,” I fiddled with my nails. 

“Would you rather we didn’t get along?” he asked, and I could see the start of our normal frustration with each other trickle back into his tone.

I stared at him for a minute. Not sure what my goal was here, but it definitely had flipped from wanting to make every minute with him, his own personal hell.

“Fighting has become tiresome. I’m content tolerating the situation.” A bit of a hypocritical response, sounding robotic, but there was no lie behind it.

He stared at me like I had to him. 

“Right. Tolerating,” he nodded with pursed lips, pushing off the door frame and walking down the hall to his room. 

Something about his attitude made it hard for me to brush off the change in tension. I stood up and walked down the hall. When he was already in his room, I was taking up as much space as I could in his doorway now. 

“What’s with the annoyance?” I asked, looking at him as he arranged some things on his nightstand. He turned around, body lax and almost defeated looking. 

“I’m not annoyed. Why would I be annoyed with you ‘tolerating me’?” he said nonchalantly with a shrug of his shoulders. 

“I don’t know, but you clearly are,” I gestured to him and crossed my arms. “Would you rather I treat you how I have before this? I mean, we can go back to-”

“Obviously not, Y/N,” he cut me off with a scoff, and I was shocked at the sheer anger that I would suggest such a thing. His use of obviously made my brain scramble as well… The second time, that word had messed with me tonight.

“You’re confusing as hell, Barnes,” I squinted my eyes at him and decided I wasn’t in the mood to handle a bipolar 100-year-old man tonight. Maybe it was best if I just called it a night. 

Turning in my spot four steps away, I didn’t expect the hand around my bicep to stop me in the middle of the hall, leading to a pensive look on his face as he stared at me.

“What?” I furrowed my eyes at him and looked at the contact unwavering on my elbow.

“I—” he started and then stopped. An internal war played out with surprising clarity on his face. I raised my eyebrows and waited.

We stared for an hour—okay, nine seconds—but it’s all the same with that level of intensity.

“Never mind.” He dropped my arm and took a step back. 

“Seriously?”

“I don’t want to start something.”

“There’s something to start?” 

“No, but I’ll wait until you’re in a better mood to,” he debated on his wording. “Discuss it,” he settled on, turning on his heel. 

“I’m not in a bad mood,” I huffed, and yeah… That didn’t help proving my point. 

“Sure thing,” he shook his head before walking into his room, carrying on as if he hadn’t dropped a strange and confusing bomb on me that I now needed answers to. 

“Goodnight to you, too,” I grumbled as I walked to my room and shut the door behind me.

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @death-unbecomes-you @mythos-writes​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @srrymydood​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xa-dia​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @redhairedfeistynerd​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @morganclaire4​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @connie326​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-asguard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @mollygetssherlockcoffee​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @teenagedreams-bucky @shower-me-with-roses​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @livstilinski @basicallylool​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @starryeyeseunbyul​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon​ @lauravicente​ @kakakatey​ @traceyaudette​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​ @sandlee44​ @thorne93​ @thefaithfulwriter1​ @essie1876​ @greyeyedsmile14​ @capsiclehan​  @xostephanie​ @averyrogers83​ @awesomenursingstudent​ @gh0stgurl​ @cs-please​ @jjlevin​ @rainbowkisses31​ @deannotmoose​ @their-bibliophile​ @kitkatd7​ @willowbleedsonpaper​ @mariaenchanted​ @snffbeebee​ @couldabeenamermaid​ @rebekahdawkins​​ @alyispunk​​ @billyseye @hallecarey1​​

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@chloe-skywalker​ @charmedbysarge​ @jbarness​ @bellamy-barnes​ @katiaw2​ @aikeia​ @stopjustlovethemcu​ @enchantedbarnes

Mr. & Mrs. Hunt Series:

@jackiehollanderr @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @theroyalmanatee @wintrsoldrluvr @alexakeyloveloki

[precisionbattlesystem]

The Witch hated dolls.

They were abhorrent, wretched, imperfected pieces of flesh made to be perfect porcealin puppets.

The thought of owning one disgusted the Witch, Amber. The ichor of a Witch only deserved to be loved by the ichor of another equal.

So when her Coven bestowed a doll that lost its Witch in a conflict with the local militia and Hunters, Amber was moritified.

What mortified Amber even more was that Amber loved it.

The doll would crack the worst of puns and jokes, as if that was its purpose alone.

The doll always had a goofy smile permanently painted across its lips, as if it was a doll of a different nature.

The doll was also beautiful. Long brown hair that draped over the doll’s chest, as if a curtain that hid the indecent bits of the dolls chest. Cool and soothing hazel eyes that were understanding and calculating.

But the worst part of all?

The doll was capable. They were a combat doll, trained in the way of the sword. That was their true purpose. And it showed.

Amber hated her doll. How the doll was now her better half. Resentment drove her to making the dolls life worse. Baking cookies with salt instead of sugar for the doll. Dulling the doll’s blades. And silence after the doll would always say, every night, “This one loves you!” Each with a growing desperation that yearned for a response that didn’t come.

The doll’s heart broke and it expressed its discontent for the first time, which both surprised the Witch and brought her relief. Amber deserved such hatred from her doll. Amber couldn’t argue otherwise.

They kept up the appearance of doll and witch for a decade longer. The doll performed and behaved for their witch in public, but behind closed doors, they stayed as far as they could from one another, sometimes even cursing each other out before both turned in for the night, crying themselves to sleep.

The King’s spies eventually found the Witch while the doll was out, doing a grocery run, getting the Witch’s most hated flavor of tea.

The doll pushed its way through the crowd and saw an executioner hold an axe in his hand, leveled with its witch’s head. The Witch cried out before the climax of the moment, “Wait! Can I have one final request?”

The King gave a solemn nod, a bit hesitant.

The Witch cleared her throat, “Please tell my Doll, I am sorry. I always loved her dearly, but I never could bring myself to say it. I was jealous of her, and her perfection. I wish… things could have turned out differently,”

The King laughed, which the crowd laughed along boisteriously, save for one. “A Witch with regret? Maybe that’s why you deserve to die! I will not do such a thing! Dolls deserve to be used and thrown away! Executioner! Kill her!”

The Executioner rolled his shoulders back, the Witch could hear an audible pop from the Executioner’s shoulders. They raised the axe above the Witch’s head and swung downwards.

The Witch closed her eyes waiting for the end when she heard the King exclaim.

“Stop her!”

A clash of metal echoed throughout the execution square, the doll took care of its weapon. The executioner did not.

The sword caught a nick in the axe and cleaved cleanly through the dull blade, the axe head soaring away from the platform, possibly into the head of an unsuspecting spectator.

“It awaits your orders, my witch,” The doll kneeled before its Witch, the executioner stumbling back, dumbfounded.

The crowd began to erupt in boos and jeers. Soldiers left the King’s side to stop this jailbreak attempt happening in front of their very eyes. The doll observed all of this nervously, “Miss Amber? Anytime now,” The doll whispered hurriedly.

The Witch looked up at her doll, still shocked that her doll came to her rescue.

Soldiers were approaching the platform now, swords drawn as the king ordered them to kill the Witch and destroy her doll. “Amber! GET YOUR HEAD OUTTA YOUR ASS AND-“

“Insolent Doll! Free me!”

The doll slashed at the Witch’s leather restraints, the whistle of steel through the air as the leather snapped at the release of tension.

“Fine! Anything else!?” The doll gestured to the soldiers that were now climbing the stairs, only a few steps aways from them.

“Do I have to do everything you stupid doll??? Kill them! And the king too!”

“Fuck. You.” The doll whispered through gritted teeth and looked back at its Witch.

The doll and the Witch exchanged a glance. One of understanding. Trust. Love.

And appreciation.

The doll thought it saw the Witch whisper ‘Thank you,’ but it probably imagined it.

Its Witch hated dolls afterall.

[730architect]

picture your face - L4B (1.1)

first real tumblr post um hi?? anyways i posted this fic on ao3 last month and it did pretty well so i decided to post it on here as well! so hi if you know me from there or from twt :)

part 2

── •✧• ──

wc: 2.4k

tags: liv4brutality, masturbation, hatred, conflicted feelings, liv lowkey hates dominik (yay), callbacks to l4b (2022), liv is still hopelessly in love with rhea but we knew this, light heterosexual couple jumpscares sorry....

── •✧• ──

I had to go into the other room, she sent me something and I can’t think about anything else…

Liv walked confidently to the back after successfully winning a dark match on tonight’s SmackDown, a match she had won with ease. Ease, which really meant continuous interference from her boyfriend, Dominik Mysterio. She cradled her precious championship in her arms as she pointed and laughed in the faces of the fans booing her on her way out. She was on top of the world and there was no woman on the entire roster, on the entire planet for that matter, who could knock her off of her pedestal.

Each victory was sweeter than the last, further cementing her as the greatest women’s world champion of all time, as she so eloquently called herself. She and Dominik were all smiles as they walked through the curtain arm in arm celebrating the champion’s win. However Liv’s smile faded quickly the second they made it back to gorilla, dropping her hand from his.

“You okay, mi güerita?” Dominik asks, immediately noticing her instant lack of affection which had caught him off guard.

“Fine, just a little tired.” Liv replies with a strained smile, attempting to save face. Dominik returned her smile with a bright one of his own, oblivious to her strange behavior.

The truth was, dating Dominik wasn’t all she had imagined it would be. Sure, in the beginning it was sort of fun. But that was due to the fact that Liv had finally gotten the ultimate revenge on the woman who had ruined her life while the whole world watched. She did exactly what she vowed she would do: take everything from Rhea Ripley until she was left with nothing but her shitty shoulder and her own misery.

Unfortunately for Liv, it was obvious that Dominik liked her far more than she liked him; which she took full responsibility for. Her conversations with Finn always seemed to be over the same matter: her true intentions with Dominik. She was not at all prepared for how needy and affectionate Dom would be, both in private and in public. He constantly needed her attention for even the littlest things.

“Hey Liv, should I wear my white or purple boots for my match later?”

“Liv, do you think I look jacked in this picture?”

His constant neediness was enough to drive any woman insane, Liv was amazed that Rhea was able to stay with him for so long. She couldn’t help but discreetly roll her eyes whenever he called her name before putting on a sickeningly sweet smile paired with a skip in her step as she made her way to him. Why did she feel this way?

She and Dominik are back in their shared hotel room after the show. She finds herself trapped in his arms yet again in bed as he mindlessly scrolls through the TV channels. Liv gets up from the bed, tossing Dominik’s tattooed arm off of her and ignoring his audible confusion, mumbling something along the lines of, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Picture your face, I wanna touch you but you’re too far away…

Liv locks herself in the bathroom and surveys her surroundings, mind still racing. Her eyes land on the large bathtub and decides a bath would help clear her head. She empties the pockets of her shorts and runs the bath water to her desired temperature while she pours soap into the tub, allowing it to form bubbles as she undresses. She tosses her clothes into a pile in the corner of the bathroom and ties her blonde hair up into a lazy bun at the top of her head, then climbing into the warm and welcoming water as bubbles swirled around her. Liv allows herself to sink down, down, down into the tub until only her head breaks the surface of the foamy water.

She tries to dilute her stress but Rhea continues to ravage her thoughts relentlessly, refusing to provide her with even a second of relief. Liv finds her mind drifting back to 2022, when she and Rhea were tag team partners and the best of friends. How Rhea treated her like the only girl in the world, how she picked her up with ease in ways that Dominik could only dream of. Liv feels a pang in her heart as she relives each sweet memory she and Rhea shared together on their quest for tag team gold. Her wet fingers rise and ghost over her lips where she swears she can still taste the sweetness of Rhea’s cheek that she would kiss after every win or loss. No matter what, they had each other. Until they didn’t.

And maybe Liv was naive for thinking that they would last forever, but how could she not when Rhea treated her like the only girl she would ever have eyes for for as long as she lived? Sometimes she thinks about what their lives would be like if Rhea had never turned her back on her. Would they still be tag team partners or would they have split on good terms? Would they be champions together like they once dreamed? The constant state of wonder she repeatedly finds herself in leaves her head pounding. They once looked at each other with such tenderness but now every glance is filled with pure malice.

Know I shouldn't need it but I want affection, know I shouldn't want it but I need attention

She hears a familiar snore come from the other room and immediately recognizes it as Dominik, which only seems to piss her off even more. Liv’s mind shifts once again, thinking about how her stomach would jolt whenever her eyes met Rhea’s as she stared her down, blue eyes morphing into angry slits every time Rhea saw her. Liv would try and put on a hardened expression of her own but to no avail. She just couldn’t ignore the heat that pooled in the pit of her stomach every time Rhea was near. Her breath on the back of Liv’s neck every time she pinned her down to the mat, seething over how much she fucking hated her. And by god did it turn her on.

Her nimble fingers begin to trail down her still-immersed body, fantasizing about how roughly Rhea would grab her, practically throwing her around like a rag doll if she really wanted to. How her sharp canines would flash through her snarl every time she had Liv backed into a corner. She found herself dismissing the wet spots in her underwear after every interaction with her or even after just stumbling across a post of hers on social media.

Liv grabs her phone from the side of the tub and opens Instagram, switching between accounts. Her wet fingers slowly find the search bar and tap on the last and only searched profile: Rhea’s. Liv couldn’t risk making a wrong move and tapping something she wasn’t meant to on accident, which would end up being the most embarrassing thing that could ever happen to her. She looks through Rhea’s profile for a couple seconds, nearly missing her latest post.

It was a mirror picture taken at the gym, nothing Rhea hasn’t posted about a million times before. But this one nearly had Liv’s world crumbling around her. It wasn’t the photo that mattered, despite how good she looked in it. Muscles bulging and glistening with a light sheen of sweat after what Liv assumed to be an intense arm-day workout. Black tattoo ink decorated her skin, wrapping themselves around her arms and fingers as she held her phone in one hand and flexed the other. But it was the caption that truly caught Liv’s attention.

“rhearipley_wwe watch me 👁️‍🗨️”

Liv sat up straight in the bathtub, nearly spilling water onto the bathroom floor with the speed she moved at. She waits for the anger to hit her but it never does. Instead it’s that same familiar throb in her core which she’s sure is coated in slick and not because of the water she’s sitting in. She stops for a moment to listen to her surroundings, relieved when she still hears Dom’s obnoxious snores through the locked door. She sinks back down into the tub, still staring at the photo, eyes drooping slightly with lust. Her fingers trace incoherent shapes onto the soft skin of her thighs as she separates them, exposing her cunt to her digits. She glides her index finger over her opening, almost slipping it inside due to how wet she is. Rhea may be obsessed but Liv was nothing short of infatuated by her.

Now I'm picturing you and you're touching yourself…

Her fingers slowly begin to circle her clit, spreading her slick over the puffy pearl. Liv sighs softly to herself, eyes fluttering shut for a split second before opening again to marvel at the photo. The caption itself almost seems like a teasing invitation in its own right, enticing Liv to slip a finger inside of herself, quickly replacing one with two and imagining it was Rhea’s inked ones instead. Water sloshed around due to her movements as her back arched slightly off the back of the tub she leaned on. “Shit… Rhea…” she whispers to herself through parted lips, Rhea’s name slipping past them like a prayer. Like she’s repenting, begging some sort of divine power for forgiveness for what she’s done as she does it.

Liv never slows the relentless piston of her fingers, going in and out of her weeping hole. The heel of her palm hits her clit with every thrust at the perfect angle, making her brain short circuit with every motion.

A memory from years ago plays in her mind like a technicolor movie. Liv had made her way to the locker room, calling out Rhea’s name as she glanced left and right for her then partner until she saw her standing at the end of the locker room, back facing her.

“Hey Rhea, I was wondering if you wanted to grab some food before we head back to the hotel or something.” Liv chirped as she walked up to her partner, blissfully unaware that she was stripping herself of her ring gear. Rhea turns around to face Liv, her hands reaching behind her back to unclasp her bralette that made up the top half of her gear.

“Sounds good to me, love. What are you in the mood for?” Rhea asks with a toothy smile, thick accent slicing through the air.

She turns around once again and lets out a relieved sigh when she finally unfastens her top, allowing it to fall off of her and completely expose the top half of her body. Liv’s mouth drops open before she quickly regains her composure, trying her hardest not to gawk at her tag partner’s physique, now having half of it fully exposed to her.

Rhea had less tattoos back then, her body a little leaner as she's put on more muscle since. But regardless of how she looked, Liv always found herself pressing her thighs together whenever she saw her, searching desperately for even the smallest bit of friction to provide herself with some semblance of relief before she could tend to it herself. Rhea turns to the side as she throws on a t-shirt, allowing Liv to catch a glimpse of her plush tits and the piercings that adorned them; along with the massive gargoyle tattoo that sat right underneath. She didn’t feel worthy of seeing her like this, all exposed and vulnerable. She didn’t feel worthy of seeing her at all.

The fingers wrapped around her phone still displaying Rhea’s photo had begun to tremble due to the sensation, liking the photo accidentally in the process. Liv however paid no mind, how could she with how her heart hammered in her chest, blood pounding in her ears, drowning out the sounds of her breathy moans and pathetic whimpers as she imagined Rhea’s expression seeing her like this behind her rolled back eyes. Liv eventually drops her phone back down and paws at her breasts, rolling her nipples between her index finger and thumb as she continues the assault on her pussy with her other hand.

She feels pressure increase just below her pelvis, making the entire lower half of her body feel like it’s about to implode. She slows the speed of her fingers ever so slightly to be able to grind her hips down onto them, allowing them to hit even deeper inside of her which makes her head spin. She feels the pressure increase more and more until she pinches at her nipple right as her fingers curl up slightly inside her, hitting that spot that makes her see stars every time. Liv throws her head back and detonates like a bomb around her digits, Rhea’s face the only thing she could see behind her tightly closed eyelids.

“Rhea… oh my sweet girl, oh my god…” she wept to herself, only then realizing that a few tears had rolled down her face. She slowly pulls her fingers out of her cunt, whining at the sensitivity and emptiness she felt. Liv laps her fingers clean, moaning around them as she envisions they’re Rhea’s she’s sucking off rather than her own.

She lays back and takes some much needed deep breaths with her eyes closed, feeling her heart rate return to a normal speed. She opens her eyes to the sound of her phone going off, notifying her that she’s received a text message. Liv picks her phone up to check who it is only to almost drop it into the water when she does.

It’s an unsaved number she hasn’t texted in years, but the lack of caller ID doesn’t serve any purpose considering it’s the only phone number besides hers that she knows by heart. With shaking fingers, she taps on the notification, opening the messages app. The text contains a single screenshot of someone’s instagram notifications. She taps on it and reads “yaonlylivvonce and 82,385 others liked your photo”.

You’re fucking kidding.

The photo in question is the post of Rhea that Liv had just spent the last half hour jerking it to. She’s stuck, frozen in shock as the now lukewarm water stills around her. She’s snapped out of her trance with another text notification, this time it’s a short sentence.

“I guess you really were watching me”

Shit.

[luvhughes43]

all-american b!tch | hughes!sister

guts masterlist🦋 - luvhughes43 masterlist🌙

summary: hughes!sister dealing with the success of her brothers, online hate, and her feelings of having to be strong all the time.

note: little bit of luca fantilli x reader

word count: 1.9k

and i am built like a mother and a total machine

i feel for your every little issue, i know just what you mean

and i make light of the darkness

i've got sun in my motherfuckin’ pocket, best believe

yeah, you know me

y/n hughes is the kindest girl you’d ever have the pleasure of meeting. as the youngest and only daughter of one of the most iconic hockey families, yn grew up in a turbulent world where she had learned to thrive. she plays the family sport, had to navigate through the hardships of being associated with her brothers, and she would be the first to tell you that her experiences had made her a better person. 

“okay trevor listen,” yn hughes or, as referred to by trevor, tiny tot, leaned in closer to the aforementioned boy. “it's quite simple… ghosting the girl will only make her trust you less. i know the podcasts have said that getting close to a girl then ghosting her will make them fall for you but seriously, that's such a bad idea” 

trevor nodded along to each word, pulling out his phone so he could draft a text to “the girl” in question. “okay so like… what should i say then?”

“hmm” yn loomed over the side of trevor's phone as she watched his fingers drift over the keys. once he had finished, he tilted his screen over to her so she could either approve or deny his message. 

there was a brief pause, “i can't tell if you're joking or not,” yn responds, causing jack to giggle as he paused to read the message over both yn and trevors shoulder. 

“I always wondered why you were better at meeting chicks at bars…” jack chuckles, “they never had to read one of your messages”

“its not that bad!” trevor whines loudly as he attempts to grab his phone back from you. 

you hold the phone away from him, swiftly raising your free hand to stop him from moving any closer towards the phone. “don't worry i can fix this,” you speak smoothly to which jack bursts into another round of giggles. 

“bro you cannot tell a girl that you-”

trevor clamped his hand over jacks mouth, effectively stopping him from reciting the awful text to the room full of their friends. “shush, the master is working” 

you rewriting trevors text was just one of the many things you did for the people you considered family. you would sit with luke for hours, letting him rant to you about his move to NJD back when he was still at michigan with you. you would have weekly recaps with your best friends and teammates about their lives, always making sure to help any of them out if needed. 

forgive and i forget

i know my age, and i act like it

got what you can’t resist

i’m a perfect all-american

despite the positives, you got an overwhelming amount of hate for just… existing. you could be the most perfect person, and people who didn't know you would still come after you online. 

you would never admit to anyone that the hate and harassment bothered you but… it always stung. in the beginning, when you first “came into the public's eye” when you started playing on the umichs womens hockey team you couldn’t avoid the hatred. people from school had started using you for your connections to all the boys you knew, and before you had the time to go private on socials (you’re now public again), you would spend hours reading through hate and manually deleting all the messages. 

ynhughes86 posted 1 year ago

liked by luca.fantilli, lhughes_06, edwards.73, and others

ynhughes86 welcome to the den🐺️🗣

tagged: umichwhockey, teammates,, and more

view all comments

teammate1 GO BLUE🗣🗣

lhughes_06 #goblue

jackhughes andddd everybody screamed!!

jackhughes number lookin fresh

liked by ynhughes86

_quinnhughes 〽️

trevorzegras tiny tot making moves🫡

ynhughes86 youve gotta let that go..

user03 the power of being a hughes💀💀

removed

user82 did daddy and mommy pay ur way in?

removed

user21 not surprised that shes playing for umich… lets be real no other team would take her. shes a hockey nepo baby fr

removed

user44 ??? have u even looked at her stats and plays? shes definitely good lol

user09 shes nowhere near her brothers levels lets be real

removed

user77 looks like she cares more about partying than she does about hockey... surprising.. not!😒🙄

removed

i am light as a feather, i’m fresh as the air

coca-cola bottles that i only use to curl my hair

i got class and integrity

just like a goddamn Kennedy, i swear

with love to spare

after a few months of going through hate comment deep dives, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t let them bother you anymore. In celebration, you made your instagram public again and paid absolutely no attention to any of the hateful people in your comments and dms. 

yhughes86 just posted !

liked by jackhughes, umichwhockey, dylanduke25, and others

ynhughes86 just your average roadie🫡

tagged: teammate5, teammate2, and others

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ynhughes86 special shoutout to trevorzegras for losing our bet! without u i wouldn’t have been able to do what i do🙏 aka spend money at the mall

liked by trevorzegras

teammate5 we should never be let loose in the mall ever again

ynhughes86 we should never be allowed off the bus

lhughes_06 dub after dub

ynhughes86 oh u know it💯

luca.fantilli is this why you were teaching me about girl math? u were trying to justify your purchases?

ynhughes86 … no comment

user32 using trevors money… wow. so she's a gold digger too?

user91 u guys are so lame let a girl live

ynhughes86 just posted !

liked by teammate, jackhughes, _quinnhughes, and others

ynhughes86 all the love at the banquet tonight

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teammate1 love uuu my forever girl

ynhughes86 love u more!! u looked so good tonight

luca.fantilli girl in the last pic is kinda cute idk

ynhughes86 kind of? 

luca.fantilli girl in the last pic is very cute im 100% sure of it

ynhughes86 the cute girl in the last pic thinks youre 100% cute too

lhughes_06 the guy in none of the pics thinks you guys are disgusting

user44 no style no game

user81 grow up loser

i’m a perfect all-american bitch

with perfect all-american lips

and perfect all-american hips

i know my place and this is it

ynhughes86 just posted !

liked by luca.fantilli, colecaufield, _quinnhughes, and others

ynhughes86 perfect all-american or whatever olivia rodrigo said

tagged: luca.fantilli

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trevorzegras that's right no swearing for you tiny tot

ynhughes86 😐

user57 “or whatever olivia rodrigo said” yeah she hates women

user91 thats why she's so close to the guys but u didnt hear that from me!

user16 if u guys dont leave this girl alone…

teammate2 OHH BFF LOOKS SO HOT

teammate3 please marry me

luca.fantilli 🤤🤤

liked by ynhughes86

lhughes_06 nope. 

i don't get angry when i’m pissed

i'm the eternal optimist

i scream inside to deal with it

whenever something bothers you, you keep it in. you hold all of your troubles and worries so deep within you that eventually, they float away and come back to haunt you when you least expect it. you thought that if you ignored all of your problems, that they would somehow fix themselves without any intervention from anyone else. 

it wasn’t always helpful. 

all the time

i’m grateful all the time

i’m sexy and i’m kind

i’m pretty when i cry

“they only ask me about my brothers, lu” your sniffles were quieted by the fabric of lucas sweater as you pressed yourself against his chest. you had played possibly the best game of your career, and the post interview questions were all about your brothers and family. questions wondering about their training and practices and how that had impacted you, how their game influenced yours. it made you feel like you were irrelevant in your own career. 

“i am so grateful for my family and how they’ve helped me grow as a player,” you responded politely to the interviewers' inquiries. it's not like you weren’t grateful. you knew that your family had a huge impact on your skills and you were glad that they were there to help you. but nobody ever wondered what your individual experiences were. all your training had to be a direct reflection of your brothers. your playing style, even unrelated, had to do with your brothers. your wins were a direct result of their greatness. nothing you would ever do or succeed in would be solely yours. 

“i love them,” you sob, “i really do! i just want people to see me” 

lucas' arms tightened around you as he started brushing your hair away from your face. “i know, baby” he whispered into your ear, holding you close as he waited for your breathing to calm down. 

“i just wanna be me!” you slumped against lucas front, who carefully pulled you over to your bed so you could sit down on top of him. 

you could hear the loud pop music blaring from the speakers downstairs, and you listened in silence to the people trudging up and down the stairs as they no doubt looked for a bathroom. 

“have you talked to your brothers about this?” lucas' soft voice cuts into the silence. 

you pull away from him slightly so you could look at him in the eyes. “no…” you admitted quietly. “they wouldn’t understand,” you leaned your head against lucas shoulder as you cuddled into him. 

he hummed quietly to you, a hand running down your back to help further soothe you. “i think you might feel better if you open up to them,” luca hedged. both of you knew that your previous statement was a lie. 

“i don't want them to think of me like that…” 

“like what?” luca questioned, his hand never leaving your back as you continued to prop yourself against him. 

you sighed. “i just… they always come to me. i don't want that to stop or for them to think that im weak” your words were quiet as you finally admitted your true feelings to your boyfriend. 

“they could never think you're weak,” luca murmurs reassuringly. “luke talks all the time about how he thinks you're adjusting to life here better than he did,” you look up at luca inquisitively. “and quinn, he is so proud of you! he talks so highly of you all the time… and jack, i mean come on. they all love and support you so much. they won’t stop asking for advice or talking to you because you're having some troubles” luca explains. “also, there’s nothing wrong with being weak. you should let yourself be open with your brothers just like they are with you. you deserve that”

“have i ever told you that i love you?” you tearfully smile at the boy who was always so good at listening to you.

luca smiles back, “not enough” he jokes as he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. 

you brush a few strands of hair out of his face. “i'll call them tomorrow,” you add, reciprocating luca's kiss on the cheek. 

luca smiles, happy that you're no longer worked up and that you’ll finally tell your brothers your struggles. 

you spend the rest of the night hidden away from the raging party downstairs, wrapped up in your boyfriend's arms as you think about everything you try to hide. you didn’t have to be just one thing. you were allowed to be kind and to have complex emotions. you could be upset and angry without being a mean girl. perfect never existed, and you were glad that you were finally open to letting others see the cracks in your walls. 

lucas’ hair was soft as you ran your hands through his locks. “i love you,” luca mumbles. 

“i love you” you whisper to your boyfriend, placing a kiss on his shoulder as he shifts to lay his head on the middle of your chest. 

you easily fall asleep comforted by the fact that you were allowed to be flawed, and that no matter what, you’ll always have your people by your side.

[itsbeeble]

LET LOOSE

SUMMARY: Younghoon has hated you since the day he met you. He thought you were stuck up with that better-than-you princess attitude of yours. What better than to just…fuck it right out of you?

GENRE: smut, fluff, angst, crack

PAIRING: Kim Younghoon x afab!reader (ft. eric)

WC: 5.3K

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: Swearing, public sex, floor sex, academic rivals that everyone knows secretly want to fuck, enemies to lovers, missionary (that's a first wow), sexual references, mentions of alcohol, insults (not sexual), arguments, pining, mentions of killing someone as a joke, dry humping for like two seconds, making out, mentions of marking, mentions of oral, guys i think this is the least slutty fic I've written for this series, y/n is stuck in a perpetual state of denial, let me know if I missed anything but i think that's it

A/N: Everyone allow me to introduce Doll's less-slutty cousin!! I can't believe we're over halfway through this collab omg. I'm really glad people are loving this and I hope you guys have been catching the easter eggs me and Fawn have been throwing into our fics 😏

If anyone asked you what you thought of when you thought of local star student, heartthrob, and frat boy Kim Younghoon, you would scoff and cross your arms over your chest. 

“I hate him,” you would say, your lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed until they were practically touching. “I hope his house burns to the fucking ground.” 

One would think this was a gross overreaction, that you probably held a grudge over something stupid, or that he killed your dog or maybe he copied off your essay but made it seem like you were the one who plagiarized. And oh, how that would’ve been much simpler. 

The true story, however, goes all the way back—

“Thinking about me again?” A hand cracks down on the desk in front of you, your mind and body jerking back to reality. 

There he is, you think to yourself, the bane of my fucking existence. Your teeth are already grinding together, your grip tightening around the pencil you’d been using to write your notes and all he’s doing is standing there with a stupid fucking smirk. 

“Why would I be thinking of you?” You bite out and Younghoon places a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“Ouch, sweetheart.” Your body stiffens and your face contorts with disgust at the nickname.

“Don’t call me that, douchebag.” Younghoon sighs dramatically, dropping down to be at eye level with you. 

“So cruel to me,” a pout, and then he’s smirking again. “What if I was into that, sweetheart?” 

You might throw up.

“What do you want?” you groan, noting how other students have begun to flood out of the lecture hall while you’re putting your things away. Younghoon shrugs, rising to his feet at the same time as you. Had you been a weaker woman, his height would’ve had your knees wobbling and your panties hitting the ground but, fortunately, you were a strong woman. Some of your friends couldn’t relate to that despite your very clear and very much valid hatred for him. 

“I just wanted to see what you were up to,” he shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back onto his heels. “Considering that we’re now partners for this assignment.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, your eyes widen, and your cheeks are fighting between going pale and burning bright as a tomato.

“What are you— what do you mean we’re partners?” You echo, and his smirk only widens. Your shoulder bashes into his arm while you make your way to the front of the lecture hall where the list of partners is posted. He trails behind you, long legs making it easy to keep pace despite how impossibly fast you seem to walk.

“Aren’t you so excited?” He sounds too excited about this, and you have to physically stop yourself from grabbing him by the neck and choking him where he stands. “We get to work together for the whole semester!”

“I still don’t see how this is a problem,” Dawon tells you her tongue running over her lip as she watches you pace the length of your dorm suite’s lounge area. “Isn’t he, like, super hot? And smart?”

Your lip curls into a sneer and you whip your body around to look at her.

“He is not hot,” your voice has raised in pitch, your arms waving frantically. “He’s— he’s stupid and— and annoying, and he doesn’t know how to shut up, and his face— oh his face is just so— so—”

“Kissable?” Suyeon offers when she makes her way over with a steaming mug of tea. 

“I think rideable is a better word,” Dawon grins at the way your jaw drops at the two of them. 

“He does have a very rideable—”

“Okay, enough!” You snap, your face beginning to burn bright red in anger.

“Ooh she’s blushing!” Suyeon giggles and your face only burns brighter. 

“You both are insufferable,” you throw yourself back onto the couch, your head turned toward the ceiling. “Kim Younghoon is annoying, stuck up, and his face is not kissable or rideable.” 

“So you’re saying you’ve thought about it before?” Suyeon presses and you roll your eyes.

“Hell no. Why would I think about that?”

“Because he’s your mortal enemy and everyone ends up fucking their mortal enemy at some point.”

“Plus he’s a yummy, scrumptious, daddy cupcake.”

“Ugh, so true Dawon.” Suyeon squeezes your roommate’s hand, the two of them grinning deviously at each other.

“That’s— did you just call him— No, that’s not the point. The point is, that’s not true!” You lift your head, eyes wide with horror. “That only happens in books!”

“Not just books,” Suyeon raises her mug to her lips with a hint of a smirk on her face. “Didn’t you hear about the KAT and TBZ presidents?” 

“Oh my god, Eric told me about that!” Dawon gasps. “Apparently they—”

“I don’t need to know the details of their sex lives.” You interrupt again. “God, you two are just…”

“Don’t you just love us?” Dawon winks at you, and you wrinkle your nose in distaste.

“Let’s not go that far.” Her lips twist, and the three of you go quiet for a moment. 

“Why do you even hate him?” 

Ah, there it is. The same question everyone had been asking since the day you started at this school. 

Why do you hate Kim Younghoon? 

“It’s complicated,” you tell them what you always say. You tell them that it’s nothing they should be concerned about. He knows what he did.

“Then uncomplicate it.” Suyeon is much softer than Dawon, her eyes furrowed but not with the mild irritation Dawon has. It’s more…concern than anything else, and for a moment you think about telling them. Think about dropping your petty act, let them know exactly what about Younghoon bothers you so much. 

You open your mouth, and the two girls in front of you lean forward expectantly, practically on the edge of the tiny couch that had been squeezed into the suite.

“I can’t.”

“That isn’t going to work, sweetheart.” Younghoon says, waltzing up to you after your failed attempt to talk your professor into letting you change partners or work alone. Your shoulders are slumped in defeat, something that Younghoon seems to laugh at. “You’re stuck with me.”

“I really hate you, Kim Younghoon.” You lift your head, wanting so desperately to glare at him but you can only find the strength to stare blankly. He kisses his teeth, eyebrows furrowing.

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” 

“Who cares? It’s true.” 

You want to scream. You want to throw your body onto the ground and throw a tantrum, to cry and whine, to kick and punch the air—anything to get out of this situation. 

“All this because I got a better grade than you in one class in high school.” Younghoon shakes his head, his hair falling into his face and obscuring his eyes partially. Your heart thuds against your ribcage (because of the memory, obviously). 

“You really think that’s the only reason I hate you?” Hint: he’s right for once. Would you ever tell him that? No. As far as he knows, you have endless reasons to hate him. As long as he lives, that list will grow. In fact, it would be better if he knew that you’d be pissed if he died before you because that means he tried to escape one last competition, but you’d hate it even more if he died after you because that means he would win one last time.

“That’s all I can think of,” he shrugs and you kiss your teeth. 

“Disappointing me again, douchebag.” He scoffs at that.

“Of course I am. When am I not upsetting you about some bullshit?” 

Oddly, this time you don’t answer him. At least you don’t give him an answer to that question. 

“Listen, Kim Younghoon,” you place a hand on your hip, shifting your weight to lean mostly on one leg. He leans toward you a bit, slightly angling his head as if trying to hear you better. “You’re the most annoying, egotistical, snobbish boy I’ve ever met. You always have this, like, need to be better than me— than everyone.” 

Younghoon inhales, his eyebrows knitting together and his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. You can see the irritation in his gaze, can see him fighting the urge to snap at you and it has your stomach churning. When he finally responds, it’s not exactly what you expected. You thought he would snap back at you, tell you to go fuck yourself, to call you the same insults you just called him.

He doesn’t.

“Meet me in the library at 4 o’clock.” Your head jerks back, your nose wrinkling with confusion. 

“Excuse me?” Younghoon just smiles coyly, already turning away from you.

“Don’t you wanna get this project done so you don’t have to deal with me?” He can practically see the wheels turning in your brain, contemplating all your options. 

“I mean yeah, but how do you know if I’m even free—”

“You’re always at the cafe at the same time as me,” Younghoon glances down at you, stepping to the side as he pushes open the door of the lecture hall. You say nothing as you push by him. “I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with me, sweetheart.”

“That’s not— I would never— how—” You sputter, stumbling over your words and waving your hands in the air while you try to come up with something to say. Something to deny. Younghoon begins to smile again, coy and near-mocking. 

“I don’t hear you actively denying anything.” His eyes widen and he bends forward, lowering his face to be near yours. Your cheeks are heating up, your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Words. You need words. Why is nothing coming out?

“Shut the hell up, douchebag.” He laughs and your stomach churns again. Is he laughing at you?

“I’ll see you at 4, sweetheart.” Younghoon starts to reach his hand toward you as he leans up, but thinks better of it and drops it back to his side. 

“Yeah, sure,” you scoff and turn your back to him.

Fucking prick.

“You have got to be kidding me,” You toss a stack of papers onto the table you’re sitting at, glaring at the notes Younghoon wrote on the whiteboard. He’d rented a study room for a few hours, giving you time to start working. 

Or, at least, try to start working. You had made no promises about not trying to kill him and making it so neither of you could get any work done. Although, you had thought about running him over with your car so that you would have an excuse to work on this alone.

The blinds over the door had been shut, blocking anyone from looking in and potentially seeing you try to kill a man. Lucky for you.

“What’s so wrong with what I wrote?” He squints at the board and you push yourself out of the old, creaky chair you’d been sitting in. 

“It’s contradictory!” You complain, reaching around him for the eraser. He grabs your hand before you can do anything, turning on you with a scathing glare. 

“It’s not, though!” 

His grip tightens on your wrist when you pull it away. You narrow your eyes, but he doesn’t waver at all. There’s heat behind his gaze, heat that makes you nervous. You know he won’t hurt you, that’s not who he is. The heat though…that makes you nervous. It’s the same heat you’d felt several times in the past few weeks. 

“Let me go, Kim Younghoon.” He leans his head toward yours and your throat begins to close, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Not until you tell me why it’s contradictory!” He snaps. You swear your ears start to ring, your vision closing in until all you can see is Younghoon. 

“It’s— why does it matter so much to you?” His grip finally loosens and you rip away from him with a huff. 

“Because you’re putting down my work! Again!” He flings his hands into the air and you bite your tongue. “Why do you hate me so much?”

A lump in your throat, tears in your eyes, and Younghoon drops your hand. He looks defeated, his shoulders slumping and his lips set into a deep frown. 

“I just,” Younghoon sits in his chair, the old wood creaking under his weight. You stand in the middle of the study room, hands by your sides and your eyes flicking around nervously. Your posture is so tense compared to his, your eyes flitting around anxiously. “I’m tired of this shit. Not knowing what the fuck I did wrong. You never give me a reason and, at first, I was fine with it. I liked the casual rivalry. But now I’m just…it’s been four years, and I still don’t know what I did.”

“Choi Yuna.” It comes out fast, the name of your ex-best friend. So fast that Younghoon doesn’t catch it, he just stares at you with a look of pure confusion.

“What?”

You say her name slower this time, tugging at the edge of your shirt. “Choi Yuna, you dated her from freshman year until late sophomore year.” 

“Okay, yeah,” he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “What does she have to do with this?” 

Your cheeks are burning, and you know he can see it. See how flustered you are.

“She was my best friend.” You bite on your tongue, trying to find the right words. 

“I know,” he said, and you purse your lips. “She talked about you all the time.”

“That’s funny,” you scoff, a spark of anger returning to your tone and to your facial features. “Considering she’s the reason I hated you for so long.”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” Younghoon huffs, rubbing at his eyes with his palms. You can tell he’s frustrated, so you speak quicker.

“She— she knew that I liked you.” His eyes snap up, wide and bulging. “She knew that I wanted to ask you out in freshman year, so she made sure to get there first. I— at first I thought that you knew that’s why she did it.”

“You thought that I knew your best friend wanted—” Younghoon huffs and rises to his feet. 

“Just—” You hold up your hands as he begins to step toward you, slowly backing you into the wall. “Just let me talk. I thought you knew, yes. She told me that you asked her out first and that she just— she just agreed. So yeah, I started to hate you. I started arguing with you and every answer you gave in class because I was just so…angry at— at everything, at myself.”

Your back is against the wall now, and you’re slowly curling in on yourself as Younghoon gets closer. 

“And…?” he cocks an eyebrow and your swallow thickly.

“By the time I realized that it was all her….at that point it was just easier to keep hating you. To keep everything at bay.”

“Everything?” He echoes and had you been looking at his face instead of his chest, you would’ve seen the smirk you’d always claimed to hate plastered onto his face. 

“Yes,” you groan and lift your head. Your breathing hitches in your throat, your body pushing even closer to the wall when you finally see just how close Younghoon is to you. 

Just a few inches from your face is his own, his eyes dancing from your eyes to your lips. His breathing is, compared to yours, slow and even. Inhale, hold, exhale. You can see his chest rising and falling with the rhythm. 

“Why—” you clear your throat. “Why are you so close to me, Younghoon?”

“No legal name this time?” He murmurs, one of his hands coming up to rest on the wall beside your head. His head dips down and now his lips are brushing against yours, every breath you take mixing with his. “What happened?”

“I just— you’re a little close to me.” Your hand presses on his chest, but it's as if you aren’t even trying to push him away. “We— we probably shouldn’t.”

Younghoon kisses his teeth, shaking his head at your suggestion. Arguably, it’s a wise choice, but right now he has you exactly where he wants you. If he lets you leave now, who’s to say you won’t pack your bags and take a one-way flight to Brazil?

“I’ve been waiting,” he says and you squeeze the hand on his chest into a fist. “For three years for you to get your head out of your ass. I’m not letting you go now that I have you.”

“Have me?” Your tone shifts into one of challenge rather than the nervous air you’d surrounded yourself with. “If anything, I have you, Kim Younghoon.”

You yank him to you by his shirt, reaching up on your tip toes to place a firm kiss on his plush lips. You hear a groan rumbling in his throat, the hand not on the wall wrapping around your waist and squeezing tightly. Your lips mesh together, but it isn’t messy. It’s slow, calculated just like every move either of you had made against each other. Every argument, every challenge. The build-up. It all led to this, and you’re not letting him go this time. He’s yours and Choi Yuna can’t take him this time. 

With a new fervor, both of your hands come to lace into his thick strands of black hair, effectively trapping his lips against yours. He drops the hand that was on the wall, both hands now on your waist and sipping under the loose fabric of your shirt. You gasp at the cold feeling of his hands on your skin, and he takes that opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth. It’s experimental, the way his tongue caresses yours, pushing gently and letting you suck at the warm muscle. He listens to the pretty little whimper you let out when he does the same thing in return and a shiver runs down his spine. His hand slides up the back of your shirt, emerging from the collar and lacing into the strands of your hair. 

Air. You had to come up for air. You needed to breathe. Your lungs are aching, but fuck his lips are addicting. They’re soft, and warm, and they feel so good against yours. 

Your knees cave slightly, your mind going fuzzy and Younghoon rips away from you to steady your body, his knee shoved between your legs to help keep you upright. 

“Sweetheart,” his tone is lighthearted, but you know he’s scolding you. “You need to learn to breathe. I’m not leaving just because you need some air.” 

A pretty little whine escapes you, but Younghoon is quick to realize that it’s not because you can’t find the words to respond to him. Well, if you think about it, that kind of was the reason. 

Your hips are rolling down on his knee, your hands gripping his shoulder for dear life as you ride his thigh. Your head is rolled to the side, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to find the right pace and the right amount of pleasure to ease your arousal. Younghoon’s jaw drops, and he feels his dick twitch in his pants at the sight of you trying so desperately to relieve yourself on him. Unfortunately for you, he notes, your jeans seem to be in the way of you achieving your pleasure. 

“Sweetheart,” he coos but his voice is shaky and he thanks god that you’re too far gone to notice. “Look at you, trying so hard to get yourself off.” 

You whine, and his breathing hitches when you try to ride him even harder. 

“Is it not enough?” He presses and your eyes fly open with the quick nod of your head. But then you shake it, and his heart clenches at the confused furrow of your brow.

“‘S not!” You whine. “Need more, Hoonie.” 

He smiles when you reach one of your hands down, undoing the button of your jeans and trying desperately to shove them down as far as they can physically go without interrupting your ministrations. To your dismay, they barely get anywhere before Younghoon has to set you down and starts to tug them down your legs gently. 

You never thought you would enjoy watching a man get down on his knees for you, never thought you could have this much of a reaction to it. Younghoon though…the sight of him looking up at you through his lashes, the nearly pathetic look in his eyes when he sees just how soaked your panties are— it’s enough to have you practically crumbling to the ground, your lips crashing against his again and forcing him back to lay on the ground. 

His hands are everywhere— your hair, your hips, your ass, anywhere he can reach. He squeezes the soft flesh of your ass when your lips trail down his neck, sucking little marks into the skin and pulling groans and quiet whimpers from his throat. 

Your hands run under his shirt, and he weakly tries to help you push it over his head to be tossed somewhere else. You shush him, a playful look in your eye as you place a finger on his lips. 

“Gotta be quiet now,” you unbutton his jeans, slowly dragging them and his boxers down and he lifts his hips to help you slide them down to his knees. He doesn’t bother with your shirt but makes quick work of your bra and shoves it up. You’re sliding your panties down your legs when he shoves his hands under your shirt, squeezing and tugging at the soft mounds of flesh on your chest. A quiet moan at the feeling of him tugging at your nipples, and his hands falter momentarily when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he teases and you scoff while lining him up with your sopping wet pussy. You know he’s big, both of you do, but you’d never admit that to his face. Never admit that you’re nervous about taking it all in, nervous that you won’t be able to take him at all.

“As if your little dick could possibly hurt me—” your voice catches and he watches with strained amusement as you begin to sink down on him. Your walls are tight around him, practically squeezing the life out of his poor cock while you try so desperately to keep sliding down on him. Younghoon pulls his hands out of your shirt, sliding them down to your hips and gently rubbing them as a means to ease your discomfort.

“What were you saying about my little dick?” Younghoon sneers and you have to fight back the whine that threatens to slip out of you. He’s just over halfway in when you force yourself to give up, the stretch beginning to be too much for you to handle. “I could’ve prepped you, y’know? Made this easier for us both.”

You can only lower your head onto his shoulder, biting harshly into the skin while he flips you around and pushes your legs up toward your chest. 

“Hold these here, sweetheart.” You do as he says, gasping sharply when he begins to sink into you. 

“Fuck, Younghoon!” 

“Shhh,” he kisses you gently while continuing to press into you, using the width of his shoulders to gently spread your legs a bit further apart. “‘M almost there, I promise.”

“‘S too much,” you whimper, a tear slipping out of your eye and dripping onto the carpeted floor below you. “‘S too much, Hoonie.”

“I know sweetheart,” he coos and looks down at where the two of you are connected. He fights the sudden urge to cum when he sees the fluttering of your walls, sees them clenching around him, and trying to force him out. “I’m almost there.” 

Another whine from you and he quickly slides the last three inches into you, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the scream you release. He stays still for a moment, listening to the sound of you sniffling, and turns his head briefly to look at the door. A shadow passes by and he exhales quietly. 

“And you were worried about me being too loud. Who’s the one with a hand over her mouth, hm?” You can’t don’t respond and Younghoon pulls out entirely, leaving just the tip inside of you, and when you whine and let go of one of your legs to reach out for him, he sinks into you in one harsh thrust. 

The moan you let out behind Younghoon’s hand is guttural, and your back arches off the floor. His thrusts are rapid, yet he doesn’t falter in pattern. He sinks deep inside of you, punching into you so deep that you swear he’s going to hit your cervix. He lets his hand drop from your mouth listening to the way you try to hold back your noises. Every whine, every whimper and moan and cry, you try so hard for him. 

“Such a good girl,” he coos. “Keeping quiet and letting me fuck her real good.” His voice is so quiet, the words practically hissed into your ear and it’s so hot that your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

Your grip on your legs loosens and then your hands drop them entirely, letting them fall onto his sturdy shoulders. He watches as both of your hands disappear under your shirt and he feels a pang of irritation as you begin to play with your nipples. They draw sharper noises out of you, higher in pitch and slightly louder. Although, Younghoon can’t complain when the combined pleasure has your cunt fluttering around him and fresh waves of arousal washing through you to make it easier for him to fuck in and out of you.

“Hoon,” your whine is loud. Too loud. “So close, please!” 

Younghoon hushes you again, his hand running up the side of your leg and squeezing at the flesh of your thigh. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he tells you. “You gotta be quiet f’ me. Gotta be quiet so nobody walks in, okay?” 

“I can’t.” You sob out and Younghoon pushes himself closer to you, practically folding you in half so he can kiss you. You open up immediately, whining and letting him slide his tongue in for you to suck on.

Younghoon’s hips begin to stutter, his body shaking against yours, but you’re closer. Your body spasms, and you nip at his tongue to keep him close to you while you cum. Younghoon grunts at the combined feeling of your bites and the clenching of your walls around his length. It’s all a bit too much and it only takes a few more thrusts before he’s shuddering and collapsing against you, spilling ropes of white hot cum inside of you. 

He can feel the combination of his and your cum beginning to squeeze out of you around the tight fit of his dick inside of you, but he doesn’t have the strength to pull out of you just yet. You’ve stopped biting at him, your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth slowly sucking at the warm muscle he continues to provide you. 

Your body is sore, your thighs aching and likely bruised when you walk into your dorm a few hours later. You hadn’t gotten any work done after that, spending the rest of the time making out in a chair and grinding on each other like some damn horny teenagers. You know you’re a disaster, but you’re more than content with that knowing that Younghoon looks the same (if not worse). 

When the door clicks shut, it’s dark in the suite and you silently thank god that Dawon and Suyeon are asle—

“Where the fuck have you been?”

The lights flick on to reveal your two friends at the counter in the suite’s living area. Dawon looks furious, but Suyeon looks like she just wants to go to be. You grimace, dropping your bag off your shoulder and onto the ground next to you. 

“Out.” Your voice is hoarse and you grimace. You imagine your throat is a little bit bruised from…things.

“Doing what.” Dawon snaps.

“Or who, judging by the looks of you.” Suyeon clicks her tongue and rises from the couch. “Look at you! It looks like someone tried to eat you!” 

Dawon squints at you, and you turn your gaze to the floor. 

“You fucked him, didn’t you?” She inquires, but you both already know the answer. 

“Who?” Suyeon frowns. “Who did she fuck?”

Your nose wrinkles, and you turn to her with a look that says I think you know. Suyeon tilts her head, her eyebrows knitting together in thought. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” 

“Oh. OH— OH MY GOD—”

The Tau Beta Zeta frat house isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. At least not party-wise. The moment you and your friends walk in, you’re engulfed in noise, drunk partygoers, and scattered members of the frat. In one corner you can see what looks like two members of the frat making out with their girlfriends. Haknyeon and Changmin, Dawon said, Too bad they couldn’t find a private space. Damn exhibitionists. A smile quirks on your lips just slightly. Oh, if only she knew the truth.

You barely acknowledge her, however, scanning the room for Younghoon. 

“Eric!” You grab the passing boy by the arm and he jerks to a stop, nearly spilling the contents of two cups. 

“Yo!” He grins at you, and you can just faintly see the crinkle of his eyes under the red baseball cap of his. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Younghoon?” Eric purses his lips in thought.

“You aren’t gonna kill him, right?” You laugh and so does he.

“No, not anymore. Or…I might if he doesn’t show up soon—”

“BOO!” Someone’s hands wrap around your waist lifting you off the ground and spinning you as you scream for him to put you down. Eric slips away, casting his eyes behind him to watch you and Younghoon as he approaches a girl in the corner. 

“Kim Younghoon!” You snap, swatting him upside the head. Your boyfriend smirks at you, bending down to try and give you a kiss that you block. “Don’t kiss me, you douche! That wasn’t funny!”

“It was kinda funny,” he laughs, swooping in to give a kiss that you choose not to block this time. It’s deep and slow, and he tilts his head to get a better taste of you when you bring your hand to the back of his neck. 

“Mmm, I think I like it when you don’t hate me.” He murmurs when he pulls back, grinning wickedly when you place a kiss on the corner of his mouth. 

“Do you now?” 

“Mhm.”

“Shouldn’t have scared me then.” You scowl, turning away from him and beginning to stalk away. He scrambles after you, frantically trying to keep up despite the crowd. 

“Where are you going?” He whines, grasping at your fingertips. You turn your head, a coy smile playing on your lips. 

“We gotta let loose, don’t we? We’re a little tense right now.” 

A puddle of drool is practically forming in Younghoon’s mouth and he’s suddenly in front of you, moving with a renewed fervor. 

When the door of the third bedroom on the right of the third floor shuts and clicks locked, nobody questions it. Not the thumping, nor the loud grunts and moans. 

When someone needs to let loose, people know better than to interrupt. Especially when it’s Younghoon and his former-crush-turned-enemy-turned-girlfriend.

© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[snghnlvr]

ok hear me out.. a contract/arranged marriage with any enha member, cliche stuff like yall not getting along n stuff plus yall prolly hate eo's guts. however one day, you got caught in some situation with a guy (idk ur ex or smth) which caused them to be jealous n yea yall fluff things out 🤭🤭

sign me up. | lee heeseung

lee heeseung x fem reader

synopsis : heeseung may have gotten a bit overboard when he saw your ex.

includes : 1.3k words | angst | little fluff towards the ending | haechan appearance! | abusive past relationship | heeseung is not jealous … sorry he’s more … angry :)

extra : first heeseung work!! | i literally change the scenario last minute because i find angry tuexdo heeseung quite hot <3 | little fluff because they like to argue | yn is petty but heeseung doesn’t care | bad employees talking shit about heeseung 👎 | heeseung saves the day!! | this picture of heeseung as a reference … MADE ME FERAL💢💢

(p.s no i’m not normalizing abusive relationships.)

likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[below the cut]

you’re staring at your untouched plate of food in front of you. the low volume of chattering and jazz music playing, it made you be in a sea of thoughts.

the fabric of your dress made you feel queasy, questioning as to why you’re the person being told to do this. it felt weird. the atmosphere felt weird overall. it didn’t feel right to be in this situation.

your sweaty fingertips lingered around your bare thigh.

the lights reflected on your white plate.

the smoke of the food disappeared into thin air without you noticing.

you didn’t want to spend your night like this.

you didn’t like the feeling of someone that you utterly hate your guts with, in front of you.

unwavering and eyes just wandering around in boredom, no one dared to speak.

your eyes were filled with hatred with every second spent with your husband. your husband that you were arranged for marriage with. you couldn’t reject - you couldn’t even say no because both parents wanted this opportunity to raise their reputation for their jobs. sometimes you hated being rich and just want to be born in a normal life.

you hated lee heeseung with all of your guts because how cocky he is as an individual. with being born with a silver spoon, he doesn’t shut up with his mouth and likes to irritate you because he’s ‘always right’. if someone doesn’t like his idea, he would immediately fire him.

in the evening of 7:00pm, heeseung’s mother arranged dinner for the both of you just to spend more time as a husband and wife.

“you’re gonna have to eat the pasta one way or another.”

you rolled your eyes at your husband’s words. “you could’ve said no to your mother’s request. i know you dont wanna be here either.” you shrugged.

you looked at heeseung as he wears a hardened expression at the mention of earlier.

“it’s my mother, i can’t just say no to her.”

you scoffed at his words. you find it ironic how he doesn’t say no to his mom but says no to his wife.

when you walked into your bedroom, there was a tuxedo and a matching dress on the bed. you sighed. you admit that it’s a beautiful piece, you just felt like it didn’t belong onto your body.

“oh but when i have a say in something, you say no?” you tilted your head to the side, acting confused towards heeseung who seemed bothered with your words. “what a reliable and caring husband to have.” you sarcastically spitted.

“i am considerate with your words. you’re just making reckless decisions and not understanding my perspective.” heeseung’s fist curled up on his lap. you noticed how intense he was staring at you but you didn’t falter.

“your perspective? all i’m saying that as your wife, i should have the privilege to work alongside with you!”

“maybe if you think before speaking you probably would!”

there was nothing but tension as you eyed heeseung without flinching. you became quiet as you realized that you’re in a public environment. it would be pointless to argue here.

heeseung mentioned earlier on how you talked back to his employees and rejected their ideas to make your own ideas stand out to the lee family. you can’t blame yourself, you were just helping your husband not fall into their tricks and make his branding fall into shambles.

you’re well aware of his reputation among his workers. he’s not very well liked because of his attitude. although you felt a bit bad for the bad mouthing, you also agreed on some of their pointers but you kept your mouth shut.

“i was just helping..” you rolled your eyes, leaning back to your chair with your arms crossed and your mouth pouting as you speak.

“look y/n i know-”

“whatever,” you interrupted his words. you didn’t want to hear what he was gonna say.

you stood up after you pulled your purse to your shoulder. “i’m going to the restroom.” you didn’t look at heeseung’s eyes and walked straight to the restroom with your heels clinking away.

heeseung eyed you with the tip of his tongue touching his lip. he took a deep breath in as you shamelessly walked away. he knows how petty you can be during an argument.

however, he can’t help but let his eyes linger your body a bit longer than usually as you disappear from his sight.

as you finished washing your hands and drying them out, you walked outside with your head cooled off.

“y/n.” you turned around only to be shocked from seeing someone very familiar.

“haechan?” you called out softly to make sure it’s the right person you’re looking to.

the male figure smiled upon your calling.

then your heart dropped.

your intuition was correct. your ex is under the same building as you. it’s been two years since you’ve maren haechan especially when you decided to break up with him because he was starting to become violent towards you. as selfish you are, you immediately called it off which obviously pissed haechan off.

“i knew my mind wasn’t playing tricks.” haechan started to take a step closer to you as you were busy staring at haechan at how physically he has changed, making you worried.

you cursed at whoever made the hallway from the dining area to the restroom so far.

“how are you y/n?” you shivered at the way he said your name. with much venom. you hated the way that he’s smirking at you when he saw that you became frozen.

you gulped. your eyes trailed to the floor in front of you so you try to walk as fast as you can without your heartbeat dropping to the floor.

flashbacks from your relationship occurred in your head. thoughts of haechan hitting and verbally abusing you made your body be in cold sweat.

before you can take two more steps, you felt your wrist being tugged forcefully. as your body instinctively turned around, it all went too fast when your head was pounded to the concrete wall and a hand choked around your neck, making you cough and gasp for air.

you became dizzy as the pain began to consume your head. you lowered your head, trying to redeem consciousness as you kept your hand on haechan’s grip whom never wants to let go.

“you bastard!”

then hand from your neck disappeared. your body slowly slide down to the wooden floor as you heard multiple gasps around you.

you try to look across at what was happening and you were too shocked to process your husband currently beating the living shit out of your ex.

“don’t fucking touch my wife like that you hear me!?” you heard heeseung’s voice being laced with nothing but anger and viciousness as his body was on topped of haechan, gripping his collar and eyeing him with every death stare. “you deserve to go to jail, you fucker!” you heard another groan from haechan

you noticed a bit of blood on the corner of haechan’s lips before coughing on air.

a staff came up to you, giving you their immediate attention. “are you okay?” they asked gently as you nodded continuously. “yes..” you breathe out.

“y/n-“ heeseung’s hands softly gripped your jaw, making you turn to him. you can obviously hear how worried he sounded and how angry he looked. “are you okay? what did that fucker do to you?” heeseung stared at the redness of your neck, indicating how rough haechan was to you.

“i’m sorry..” you whispered, trying to look up at him but you eyes kept closing because of the pain. “i’m sorry about earlier..” you whimpered when heeseung gently pressed on the spot that your head was badly hit in.

although you may have hate heeseung’s guts but he’s the only person who understands your struggles with being born as a silver spoon. sometimes both you go have deep conversations late at night alone in your bedroom, whether he talks first or you.

“no shut up, don’t mention about that right now.” you can hear the irritation of his voice that always never fails to make you giggle.

“we’re going home and i’m making that jerk rot in hell.” compared to heeseung’s harsh words, his hold on you was very gentle and delicate. his hand was holding your waist as his other hand was around your head, making sure that he doesn’t touch the injured area. your heart was beating fast because everything happened too fast - seeing your ex for the first time in 2 years and heeseung being in your arms in less than a minute.

“you’re cute when you’re mad.” you suddenly confessed as you dug your head to his chest in order to not look at haechan being escorted away from the staff. heeseung noticed as he kept your body close to his. you didn’t say anything, and he knew. he just silently lets you do what he wants and it makes your heart flutter whenever he does this to you.

with heeseung’s brave soul, he continued to stare at haechan until he’s out of his sight. you slowly fell asleep in heeseung’s warm arms protecting your figure until the ambulance arrives.

“don’t worry y/n, i’m here with you.” were the last words that you heard before falling asleep in his arms.

hope you enjoyed<3 MERRY CHRISTMAS <33

[miffysrambles]

hey, can i request wukong and macaque (sep) comforting a chubby reader (fem if possible) who often remember her past and the bullying she suffered? like a scenario where they find her looking at the mirror with a bitter face

Wukong and Macaque With a Chubby! Fem! S/O

(I'm plus-sized myself so this hit close to home :'3)

You undressed into your bra and underwear as you had gotten home, gripping the chub on your waist as you looked down at your torso. You had always been a bit chubbier than others and being in public today reminded you of that, you hated these days.  You have felt like this for quite some time now, it’s just something you deal with. But that doesn’t mean the thoughts banging in your head didn’t bother you. They would say things belittling you and your body, saying what you could do to make yourself thinner. You knew these thoughts were caused by real voices from your past, the things they would say to you were deafening as they boomed in your ears. You sighed as you finally looked up to meet your face, a look of pure bitterness and hatred reflected off the glass. You were so focused on your self-loathing that you didn’t notice your monkey boyfriend standing the the doorway of your bedroom.

Wukong:

Wukong had walked into the room with a smile on his face to greet you after being out all day, he was about to walk up to you to give you hugs and kisses when he stopped in his tracks to see you grimacing at your reflection.

His eyebrows furrowed upwards as he slightly parted his lips, “You ok sunshine?”

You jumped as you turned your head to see your partner, putting up a fake smile as you nodded.

“Yep, just getting changed for bed Wukong!”

He knew this was a fake response, he knew your genuine smile like the back of his hand.

The way you practically lit up with a twinkle in your eye, oh it’s something he strived to see daily.

He walked up to you and caressed your face with his thumb, a look of loving concern made your stomach do flips.

“Hey, it’s okay if you’re not. I’m not gonna force you to talk to me, that won’t do any good, but I want to help any way I can.”

You leaned your cheek into his grasp as you sighed, “It’s one of those days… You know, the one’s where my head won’t shut up about my body… Some of the voices are things I’ve heard from old peers and those hurt the most…”

As you described what people have said to you in the past, his heart broke.

How could anybody say such awful things to you, his peaches?

His eyes softened more, smiling slightly to comfort you as he kissed your temple.

“Oh peaches, those days suck huh?”

You nodded, “So much it hurts…”

He wrapped his arms around your waist as he held you close, “I’m sorry they hurt, if it makes a difference I love your body just the way it is. I wouldn’t change a thing about ya’.”

You smiled as you kissed him on the lips, finally getting what he came into the room for, ‘It does, thank you.”

Macaque:

(I have a personal HC that Macaque loves plus-sized/chubby people hehe)

Macaque was following you through your shadow as you arrived home, looking for an opportunity to give you a light surprise as he told you he was gonna be held up at work tonight. 

(He had done this in the past and you both knew it was all good fun).

He was stopped however when you looked at your reflection with a repulsed look, making him back away as your shadow on the wall with a concerned look, rising from a portal in the doorway.

“M-Macaque? I thought you were gonna be home late tonight!” Your frigid voice asked him, you were clearly on the verge of tears.

A mix of concern and understanding was on his face as he approached you, “They let me go early, the play was rescheduled…” 

He took hold of your hands as he looked down at your interlocked fingers, “This isn’t the first time this has happened huh?”

You nodded slightly as he kissed the back of your hands, “Not even close…”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asked, not wanting to overstep your boundaries because he knew exposing your feelings takes a lot of mental strength.

“Just voices from my past booming in my head, y’know like run-of-the-mill bullies in school…” You described what you went through as a child, making his eyebrows furrow and his nose scrunch up in anger.

Just knowing you were in pain from other people, even if it was in the past enraged him.

He sighed as calmed down, helping you feel better even if for a second was his top priority.

He trailed soft kisses up your arm to your cheek, “I love your body because it’s you sweet cheeks. I love everything about you, and I wouldn’t change a thing. I know that won’t change the thoughts going through your head but it’s a start right?” He pulled his lips away from your cheek as he smiled, making your cheeks flush as you smiled and laughed at his displays of affection.

He nuzzled his nose into your neck, making you laugh again from the ticklish sensation.

“There she is, that’s my girl." He chuckled as he kissed your cheek once again. 

[sugar-grigri]

I was wondering what you think the likelihood is of an actual canon Asa/Denji romantic relationship is? I mean obviously they're building that Asa has feelings for csm/Denji (separately) and Denji has shown passing interest as well. I wonder if it's feasible at all or are they going to be pitched against one another now that Asa's getting seen more in the public eye while Denji is forcibly pushed aside.

Love your blog and enjoy reading your analyzes of the chapters/characters/plot!

Denji and Asa will have a romantic relationship 

I'm sorry to answer so late (almost 2 months later) and without justifying my delay, I think it's the right time in view of the last chapters to answer !!! I think Asa and Denji will have a romantic relationship. Before explaining my arguments, I would ask that we all put our personal preferences aside. I'm only interested in Denji and Asa's writing and story arcs. Now that that's been cleared up, let's get down to business.

First of all, I'd like to reiterate a few points about Denji's development and objectives.

In part 1, Denji understood what it meant to be loved properly, the different facets of love, how to protect and pamper a family, just as his response to the antagonist was driven by his love for Makima. It's important not to deny that Denji has become attached to Makima, and the paradoxical aspect of this affection is what made the end of Part 1 so brilliant and memorable.

Firstly, it confirmed that CSM's main theme from the outset was love, and secondly, it proved that Denji's response was extremely sensitive and mature. Instead of locking himself into a cycle of revenge and hatred, he forgave.

But above all from a narrative point of view it's interesting because in the first part, Denji grasped his value as a human being, knew what it was like to be considered and loved by Power and Aki. I've always seen Part 2 as a response to Part 1.

After the character has grasped that he can be loved, Part 2 places within it, consecrating it as the pivotal protagonist: Denji's beloved, Asa Mitaka. Instead of simply mystifying the love interest as a deuteragonist, as many works do, and depriving us of her point of view, Fujimoto places her with equal narrative importance. Which makes sense, since love is a central theme, Denji's love couldn't take a back seat.

All this to say that the very fact that Asa is also the protagonist puts us on the right track. But there's nothing to stop it all being a trap? Just as there's nothing to stop the relationship between the two protagonists opening up to a lovely friendship, is there? From a personal point of view, I'd have found it interesting if Denji had struck up another platonic friendship with a girl, with no undertones.

But that's not what Fujimoto has in mind...

Asa and Denji are written to complement each other. And when I say complementarity, I make it clear that the writing doesn't imply that a relationship between the two of them would solve their internal problems. Their flaws are put to the test by the external scenario.

For example, Asa's lack of trust in others is underlined in her development compared to other characters such as Yuko and Yoshida.

Yuko and Asa had a sincere friendship, although this drifted into moral combat as the young girl wanted to be as beneficial and useful as Chainsaw Man. As for Yoshida, he torments Asa, playing the game of promiscuity in order to create distance between the two of them, motivated as he is by Chainsaw Man. But his aim is not to become like him, but to prevent him from acting to the full.

Whether it's to inhibit Chainsaw Man or to become like him, Chainsaw Man has occupied a place in Asa's relationships with the others. But again, this only serves to underline the extent to which the destinies of the two protagonists are intertwined. Instead of hating Chainsaw Man even more for disrupting her relationships, Asa Mitaka unknowingly experienced his profound kindness.

During the aquarium arc, Denji simply occupied a special place regarding this issue. While the young girl mortified herself about being a good-for-nothing, a loser like Denji, it was he who paradoxically helped her. Firstly, because he'd listened to her explanations, boring though they were, about starfish and the fact that they're edible. What's more, Fami can control those she would have starved, so subconsciously the fact that Denji offered her food saved Asa.

But this is implicit writing, as it doesn't make sense until well afterwards, when Fujimoto spells out the conditions of the famine demon's power. When we read the aquarium arc, the one who finds the solution is Asa. Denji was merely a springboard.

This episode is central because Fujimoto, in developing the relationship between Denji and Asa, also clarifies the way in which he will write it: one will not overshadow the other, and he has not placed Asa as the protagonist so that she is not a pivotal point in the scenario.

But before this good experience, Asa only sees Denji's little flaws, the fact that he's a fan of Chainsaw Man, that he rips off homeless people and even goes so far as to dehumanize him, considering him somewhere between a cat and a criminal. Instead of idealizing Asa as Denji's great savior, she is first presented as a threat to the boy. But this chapter only confirms the future romantic (and tragic) aspect of their relationship.

I'm putting my theory back on the cat, because it's this symbol that heralds a perhaps not-so-pretty ending between the two of them. Fujimoto takes on the characteristics of a Greek tragedy, with a game of identities, intertwined secrets and a series of misunderstandings, with two camps, characters also preventing their relationship (Nayuta and Yoshida). But above all, it's tragic: Denji is somewhere between a cat and a criminal, just as Asa lost her mother while trying to save a cat, just as the first being Denji saves in Part 2 is a cat.

The cat is a figure that links Denji and Asa (the fact that they both saved one, that it is linked to their family (Power and Asa's mother), the metaphor of cat and criminal being what characterizes someone as morally gray as the two of them TO SUM UP their relationship will end in sacrifice. The ultimate proof of love. Isn't it wonderful to have a boy as the protagonist who pursues love, only to die for it? The reverse is just as beautiful: a young girl who closes herself off in solitude finds self-fulfillment in dying for the sake of another.

But back to something happier: Asa is the only one who has a healthy love (or rather, attachment) to Denji. Firstly, because she first faced Denji's and Chainsaw Man's flaws before seeing their good sides.

First, she doesn't project anything onto the boy, and sees him exactly as he is. She experienced his obscenities, his interest in sex that repels her. This was something I'd considered a flaw until now, to be honest; I was afraid that if the two protagonists ended up experiencing intimacy together, it would "save" Asa from her rejection of sex. But I was reassured by Fumiko's development, which parallels that. Fumiko has an unhealthy interest in Denji and is constantly contradictory in her dealings with him.

As I said, chapter 142 sets up a fairly simple idea: no one respects Denji's limits, above all, no one sees him as the teenager, the child he is. With Chainsaw Man, the same thing happens: people, faced with their powerlessness against the demons, project their grief and frustrations onto the machine man, to the point of pushing him to live again and again to kill his loved one, his big brother. 

No one hears Chainsaw Man's cries for help 

Asa stands out from all this: first, she's the one who wants to save Chainsaw Man 

Fumiko already had an idealized image of Denji before she met him, has an ascendancy over age, a manipulative strategy, but beyond these problematic issues she respects no limits, thinks Denji's sexual desires, which do exist (let's not deny it), are watchwords. 

She, who considers him a child, doesn't act at all in the spirit of protection that she acclaims. 

Asa has the opposite reaction, but purely the opposite. When she meets Denji, she's not at all interested, even distressed. She'll have exactly the same reaction to Chainsaw Man. She doesn't like him, so she has nothing to project onto him. And even her first reaction to him was far from idyllic. 

Fumiko's presence is also intended to underline the way she and Asa differ in the way they deal with Denji's limitations. 

Asa respects Denji's limits, or rather those he has set as rules dictated by his little sister. But Yoru crosses a boundary by kissing him. Without the desire to justify a non-consensual act, what Yoru is doing is crossing a boundary not set by Denji but by Nayuta, who is trapping her older brother in a certain solitude by wanting to protect him. The control devil is obsessed with a happiness that can only be found in the number of two, which is the common trait that links Makima and Nayuta, although they are not exactly the same entity. The first kiss between Yoru and Denji is then an act of rebellion, rather than Fumiko's constant overstepping of boundaries. 

(Again, these are two non-consensual acts, and I'm not justifying them, but they don't have the same narrative function).

But above all, the limits set by Nayuta have another meaning - they're there to consolidate the fact that Denji and Asa's relationship is a romantic tragedy inspired by the ancients, as Shakespiere was. The breaking of rules is a major theme in Romeo and Juliet, especially in the case of Juliet, who must choose between morals and her love, her family destining her for another marriage (symbolized by Nayuta). 

But we'll come back to the symbolism of Romeo and Juliet in a moment... 

Asa has met the purest version of Denji - whether it's Denji revealing his identity, or his profound kindness at the aquarium - and she's also witnessed the flaws of Chainsaw Man, this perverse monster, not good with words, who not only tried to reassure her, but actively protected her.

In other words, when we see her disturbed by her growing feelings for both Denji and Chainsaw Man, they are more than sincere, for she has seen them both as they were. But above all, she is the first character to love both sides of Denji's identity. Whereas Makima was obsessed with Chainsaw Man or Reze focused on Denji's weaknesses, Asa became attached to both the human and the demon.

Denji's dual identity is central, with the public hunters trying to annihilate Denji's demonic identity while the church relies on it, confusing the boy into having to choose one or the other, while the one who intends to help him unknowingly loves both sides. She likes him doubly. Asa is proof that Denji has to claim his two identities.

Not only is the girl also two, harboring a demon within her just as Denji has fused with a demon, but the way their demons are linked to each other and have a history between them only reinforces the destiny that binds them.

Asa is someone who intellectualizes her emotions to the extreme, so her love is more cerebral than Denji's, who thinks primarily through his senses, having a more instinctive love. Yoru occupies half of Asa's brain, while Pochita replaces Denji's heart, totally in line with this symbolism.

Above all, Yoru is disturbed by Asa's budding feelings, which also affect her. We've seen that Yoru hasn't succeeded in transforming Denji. We all stopped to think that she couldn't transform a hybrid, a demon. Yoru is a knight of the apocalypse and has a natural ascendancy over other demons, just as Fami had the falling devil under her control and Makima had controlled many demons. No, the reason why Yoru can't transform Denji is twofold: she's disturbed by Asa's feelings, which are also her own, and doesn't have the will to make him her weapon; but above all, they're not yet together, and the feeling of belonging to each other hasn't yet been established. It's not certain that Denji will ever become Yoru's weapon, since as soon as their relationship is established, he will symbolically offer her his heart.

In the current arc, Fujimoto places Asa in Denji's initial situation, so as to better parallel them: she becomes the church's new flagship image, her popularity competing directly with Chainsaw Man's. But while the current arc shows us the downside of these parasocial relationships, with Denji completely paralyzed by his existential crises, Asa experiences the opposite.

She who has always felt isolated is finally beginning to be appreciated and loved by the majority. In short, one begins to learn something that the other is just experimenting with. Denji and Asa are two very isolated teenagers who project themselves into the recognition their audience has in them. 

What's certain is that Denji's existential crisis doesn't just concern him, insofar as his experiences can serve as a lesson to Asa, that to become a hero is above all to be alone. The church intends to sacrifice innocent people to spur Chainsaw Man into action, a church that Asa now represents. Asa hasn't yet seen this side of the church, so Barem mocks her by presenting her as a naive young girl. However, Asa has the intuition that tragedy will strike, since she has a nightmare of it.

Asa's going to have to go beyond her moral limits, to take the brunt of her own popularity, and even if she intends to save Chainsaw Man as he saved her, I think it's he who's going to help her more, not to eclipse her but as a springboard to push the heroine to save herself.

Denji's development isn't slow, flat, in this arc, it just reaches its conclusion. What's left for him to do to end it all is to prove his love.

Even if it means dying for it.

[the-roo-too]

i remember seeing you saying you wanted some le sserafim requests so here i am ig i hope you don’t already have too much of them. yunjin x reader where reader is added to the lineup and gets close to all the members except yunjin who acts cold towards her for no reason. but then she finds out it’s actually cuz their dance/ singing coaches keep comparing them saying yn is better… so she became jealous for no reason. <3

huh yunjin x reader; idol au

warnings: unfair treatment ig?; jealousy; replacement member

getting added to the group after the debut was a bit rough, but your members made it bearable. le sserafim debuted as 6-members girl group and (funny story) their second mini album had 6 performers too.

during the period between the debut and the first comeback, a member of the group that you never got to meet, garam, left because of some scandal. then, they added you!

while at first you thought the group would be distanced (because no matter how you look at it, you replaced the girl) they didn’t care. even better, the oldest two immediately started treating you as one of their own. the younger two also looked up to you as their unnie, especially manchae. even the public didn’t seem to mind your presence all that much.

but of course things couldn’t be too pretty for you.

“okay, let’s try from the top?” you all nodded to the choreographer, standing up from your break.

“chaewon unnie, could you pass me my water?” you asked your leader softly, hoping to get one last sip before continuing the practice. weirdly enough, she didn’t notice you speaking to her, as she was focused on yunjin.

the american walked back from the choreographer with a frown on her face, as often these days. her eyes suddenly met yours and her grimace deepened.

huh yunjin: the one member that didn’t like you.

you really had no idea know why, but every time you as much as stood within two meters to her, she’d glare at you.

“are you okay, unnie..?” her unreasonable hatred towards you would never stop you from trying to befriend her…

her shoulder bumped into yours as she walked. “i’m fine.”

…because you might or might have not liked her.

yunjin didn’t like you. that was easy to say. did she hate you though?

she stopped in her tracks to ponder over the thought.

she shouldn’t hate you. it wasn’t your fault the choreographer noticed a similarity in your dancing styles and kept pointing it out to yunjin.

it was well after practice finished as she was walking to the dorm (courtesy of staying back to perfect the dance). she knew chaewon was probably worried.

or was she? she’s been staying late in the studio ever since you joined the group.

yunjin was so lost in her thoughts she didn’t even realise she arrived at her dorm.

rummaging through her bag, she fished out her pair of keys.

*click*

the doors were unlocked. chaewon was probably waiting. will she be scolded again?

yunjin sighed. she always gets.

“you’re late again.”

yunjin ignored the comment from her leader, placing her bag next to the doors. she took of her shoes and put them in her place.

weird, your pair was missing.

“we were worried.”

“i know, unnie.” she fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“…y/n was worried too.”

“okay.”

chaewon walked up to the younger girl and placed her hand on her shoulder, turning her forcefully, but not too hard.

“i don’t know what is your problem, but you need to resolve it. it’s affecting the group, even the public noticed you two!”

“oka-“

“don’t okay me, damn it!” chaewon sighed, running her hand through her hair to stop the stray strands from tickling her face. “y/n went to look for you.”

“huh? why would she?”

“because i asked her to talk with you. because you’re too much of a child to do that yourself apparently.”

yunjin frowned at her leader. “what goes between me and y/n is not of your business, unnie.”

“find her before i make it my business.”

yunjin cursed herself for never bothering to ask for your number. it made finding you much harder. there was still one thing she could do…

now her phone rang, the line quiet. she should’ve expected that, idols don’t tend to pick up unknown numbers.

“hello? yunjin unnie?”

she was a bit taken aback. you had her number?

“y/n? you have my contact?”

“i got it from chaewon unnie… i got you a iced coffee, she said you stayed back after practice so i thought you might be thirsty, unnie.. where are you?”

her heart skipped a beat (she denied it in her head) as she heard your words.

“i’m..” yunjin cleared her throat. “i’m outside our dorm, where are you?”

“oh, i think i can see you, unnie!” the call ended and she heard fast footsteps approaching her. she turned around and saw you running to her, trying not to spill the mentioned coffee.

as you got closer and closer, she couldn’t help but wonder why did her face feel so hot all of a sudden?

yunjin closed the doors behind you. when she glanced around the room, there was no chaewon in sight. at least she didn’t have to listen to anymore of her rants.

“unnie..?”

yunjin looked back at you. “yes?”

“why do you.. hate me?” no. she didn’t hate you. she shook her head slowly.

“i don’t.”

“you do, unnie..”

“i don’t hate you, y/n. i just.. i’m not fond of you..?” she saw the look of hurt flash in your eyes.

“i don’t understand why, unnie!”

“stop yelling, you’ll wake the others up.” her voice was cold, yet she felt bad when you looked away from her.

“can we just… talk? please unnie, i want to know what i did wrong..”

a scowl appeared on yunjin’s face. “that’s the problem. you didn’t do anything.”

“huh?”

“you’re just so perfect, everyone loves you! you appear in the group after debut and suddenly its not about being a good dancer but ‘y/n is in the group only for a while and she’s better than you’.”

she saw you freeze. “what do you mean…?”

“i’m tired of being compared to someone who barely got in the group.” she walked away after that. she probably shouldn’t, her words were more hurtful than she meant them to be.

practice the next day was awfully calm. yunjin wasn’t called over by the choreographer this time, much to her surprise. instead, you walked over to the trainer.

“you made up yet?” chaewon appeared on her side, drinking from her water bottle as she looked at the american.

“not yet, unnie.”

“oh? i thought y/n told the choreographer that she shouldn’t get the solo part in the song because she wanted to share it with you or something.”

“what?” yunjin whipped her head to look at you, then back at chaewon. “i-i’ll be right back, unnie!”

she speed walked do you immediately. as you noticed her approaching, you gave a small smile.

“yunjin unnie?”

“you gave up your solo part? why?”

“oh..” you giggled softly. (i’m sorry 💀) “i thought that if i didn’t have a solo part.. my dancing wouldn’t be that visible and the choreographer would stop comparing us..”

“yah..” yunjin flicked your forehead. “you’re stupid. you don’t do stuff like this just because i’m jealous!”

“i didn’t want you to be upset, unnie!”

“i’m upset now, y/n. go to choreographer and get that part back right this instant!”

“but unnie..”

“no but’s. if you do that, i’ll come to buy *you* iced coffee today instead of staying back, okay?”

she smiled when she saw your eyes shining like a little kid’s. “okay, unnie!”

maybe, just maybe she didn’t have to dislike you.

[five-bi-five-mind]

Prompt: Maya and reader weren’t official. Maya said she didn’t do relationships and you said you weren’t just her fuck toy. But what happens when Jack (or anyone) tries flirting with reader??

Late Night Calls

Fandom: Station 19

Pairing: Maya Bishop x fem!reader

Words: 4.4k+

Summary: You were trying to move on, you really were. It was only so many times you could be completely let down by Maya Bishop and you were trying to break your habits. But then she's Maya Bishop... and it's really hard to resist her.

Genre: Smut & Angst & Fluff (tiny bit)

Warnings: Alcohol mention, top!Maya, bottom!r, jealousy & possessiveness, fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex, bathroom sex

A/N: I'll be honest, this fic feels a lil messier than I'd like it to be. But I hope y'all enjoy my first Station 19 fic!

“Oh come on,” Maya groaned as she rolled over to face you. “Don’t be like that.” 

You were currently sitting on the edge of her bed, angrily pulling your shirt back on. It happened again, you thought things were different and you were sorely mistaken. When were you going to stop falling for her sweet words and seductive tone coming from the other end of the phone? It always happened when the sun went down. She would call you and tell you all the right things to make you squirm where you sat. She’d tell you she wanted you. No – craved you and every time you’d fall for it and find yourself hopping into your car and speeding to her apartment. And lately, the last few times you arrived she would take your breath away, claiming you in a way that only she could. Touching you in a way that only she knew how. At the end she’d kiss you so deeply that you thought you two were on the same page. But the moment the kiss was over she’d untangle herself from you completely and not so subtly hint for you to leave. Your hopes would instantly be crushed. What should’ve been an amazing night would turn into one of self hatred and disgust. You couldn’t help, but feel used. Any time she’d start the conversations about no sleepovers, you’d fight back by telling her that the next time she called it had better be for something more. Of course, despite your warning, she would still call and that’s why you kept thinking things would be different. It never was. She was starting to make you believe all you were good for was a quick fuck and you didn’t like that feeling.

This time you didn’t even bother to start the argument again. When you two were finally spent, you waited for her to say something, anything of meaning, and yet again she started with the same words. “It’s getting pretty late…” Immediately, you knew it was her way of telling you to leave. This time, when she said it, you just huffed and started to pull on your clothes. The only thing you said in response as you wrestled with your shirt was “Don’t call me again, Maya.” And that’s when you finally got a different reaction out of her. 

“We had fun tonight, didn’t we?” She said behind you, her hand reaching to run her fingers across the exposed skin of your back as you continued to struggle with your shirt in the dark. All you did was recoil, not wanting to entertain her words with any sort of answer. 

She sat up when she noticed your response to her touch. The fact that you pulled away from it did something to her. The harshness of the way you recoiled sat in the pit of her stomach and she didn’t like the way it made her feel. Maya tried to shake off the feeling, telling herself if she reasoned with you it would make her feel better. 

You felt the mattress shift as she scooted closer and you squeezed your eyes shut tight in anticipation of her next words. “Listen,” she sighed, her hand yet again reaching out to brush her fingers along your back. This time you didn’t pull away, but you just sat still as you waited for her to continue. Whatever she was going to say next was going to disappoint you. You knew that deep down. It’s not like this would be the first time she hurt you like this. Yet, still you waited and hoped she’d say something real.  “I told you when we started that I didn’t need a girlfriend.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. This conversation always goes in circles and you were tired of having it. Of course, Maya couldn’t ever talk about her feelings with you before. Why would this time be any different? “You also said this was a one time thing.”

You didn’t have to turn around to know that Maya was wearing that annoyed frown she always gets. She never says anything when you throw that back in her face, but it was true. Maya made it clear the first time you hooked up, but then she broke her own rule and she called you again… and then again… and again until you were at a point where you lost track of how many times she would ask you to come over. 

Instead of waiting any longer for her to make up some other excuse to get you to leave or to sweet talk you into not being so mad, you got up and walked towards where your pants lay on the floor. Maya stayed silent this time. The air had drastically changed. It felt heavy, suffocating even. Usually, after this conversation happens, it’s tense. But this was different. There was a sense of finality in the way you moved across the room, gathering everything you two had flung off. Maya understood that and watched silently as you pulled the rest of your clothes on. 

“Goodbye, Maya.” Your voice echoed through the uncomfortable silence. Maya turned her head from you, refusing to meet your eyes as you waited one final time for her to say something, anything to get you to stop. She remained silent. You took her response as her own acceptance of the finality of the night. This was the end of whatever this situationship was. With your things gathered, you looked back at Maya once more, her eyes still glued to a random part of the room. The lack of reaction from her strengthened your resolve, and finally you left. That night was the last night, you told yourself. It would be the last time you had this conversation, the last time you answered her calls, the last time you fell for Maya Bishop.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After that night, Maya would call and you’d send her to voicemail. When she texted, you would purposefully leave her on read. It took longer than you thought it would for her to finally stop trying to get you to come over. The texts and the calls had slowed to a stop and you tried to ignore what that might mean. Did she find someone else to answer those calls? As hard as you tried to deny the hurt you felt from walking away from Maya, you knew it was for the best. You deserved more and you knew that, but you still couldn’t help but want her. 

To distract yourself from her, you would go out with your friends. They kind of knew what was going on. Not all the details, but still, they could tell that you were heartbroken. It had been a month now of you trying to avoid Maya Bishop and her insistence to break the bad habit that you formed with you. You were holding strong, so you decided to be bold. A month was a decent amount of time. Maybe you weren’t over Maya, but maybe you were ready to be under someone else. A hook up, that’s what your friends convinced you that you needed to get the ball rolling. A hook up wouldn’t solve everything, but maybe it would fix your bad mood. 

So you got dressed up and went out. Your intentions were to find someone, flirt, and see what happens. And oh, did you flirt.  You really flirted. More so than you usually would. But there was a good reason for that and that reason was currently staring daggers at you from across the bar.

It was driving Maya crazy, in fact. Having to watch you fawn all over another person. That person being Jack of all people. Part of that pissed her off even more. She saw you the minute she entered the bar and, unfortunately for her, you saw her at the very same time. That’s when you shifted all your attention to Jack. She knew it was, because you caught her coming in. She chose her usual spot and luckily it had a clear shot of where you were currently, in her opinion, draping yourself all over him. He, of course, was loving all of it. He had a shiteating grin on his face and it was quickly testing Maya’s patience. After a few minutes of this little show, Maya was ready to snap. 

Jack was clearly enjoying your attention too and that’s what was making it even worse for Maya. He was leaning close to and talking you up. Maya kept seeing the telling smile he flashed at you and, to her horror, she knew what that meant. Finally, he flexed and of course you laughed and all Maya could do was grimace. 

Maya’s fists were shaking in anger as she watched this shitshow unfold in front of her. She tucked her hands under the bar to hide their shaking as she watched you touch his arm like it was the most casual thing in the world. If looks could kill, the one she was giving Jack would’ve made him drop dead. And honestly, she hated herself a little bit for wishing that he’d disappear right now. Did he know what he was doing? Maya thought she told him about the little situationship she had with you, but maybe he didn’t realize it was you she was sleeping with. Or used to be sleeping with, she guessed, since it had been a month. Hopefully, though, that was the case, that he actually had no clue who you were. But if he actually knew it was you that she was seeing, then he might not be leaving this bar in one piece tonight. 

When he leaned in and whispered something in your ear that was the last straw for her. Maya knew Jack well enough to know that he was close to convincing you leave with him. She’d be damned if she let that happen. After one more long drink of her beer, she slammed her bottle down and shot up from her seat. Walking right up to where you and Jack sat at the bar, she didn’t even look his way once before pushing herself in the small space between you two.

Jack’s eyebrows shot up and he leaned back on his barstool as he watched Maya get into your personal space. “Can I talk to you for a second?” Maya’s voice was clearly tense as she practically seethed. A knowing smirk formed on Jack’s face as he watched her haul you off your stool. Bingo. 

“I uh- I guess?” You stuttered. Not that it mattered, Maya was already pulling you toward the bathroom. 

You practically jumped out of your skin when Maya slammed the door behind the both of you. She reached for the doorknob and the sound of the click echoed through the room as the lock slid into place. Alright, you thought, this night was going to be a long one. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Maya whipped around on you as you walked further into the bathroom, wanting to get a little bit of distance between you and the woman you so desperately wanted to forget. 

“I’m not doing anything, Maya,” you said, trying your best to play it neutral. Truth is, you knew exactly what you were doing. To be fair, this wasn’t your plan at the beginning of the night. You definitely didn’t just walk into the bar, find Jack and decide tonight was the night you’d try your best to make Maya jealous. In a way that wasn’t your goal at all, but in a way, deep down, it also was. No, your plan for the night was to try to forget Maya once and for all. 

Okay, so you picked a bar that you knew she frequented, but to be fair you hadn’t seen her there in awhile. When you went with your friends, as much as you hated yourself for it, you would look at her usual spot and she wouldn’t be there. So, there were two reasons you decided this decision was safe: The first being that it was a familiar bar where you knew other people who frequented, so if you went alone and something happened, you had people around who had your back. The second was that you really didn’t expect Maya to suddenly start coming the first night you decided to go out without your usual group of friends again. Your hopes were to find someone to flirt with, to forget maya for, or to at least go home with. Of course, that wasn’t going to happen now. Especially when you hadn’t even finished half of your first drink before being torn away from Jack. 

Your night hadn’t even started and she already ruined it. She was going to watch your every move the whole evening, you knew that just by the way she was looking at you from across the bar. So, since you were angry, you found an easy way to piss her off too: Jack. Yeah, you knew him. He was charming, he worked with Maya, and you kind of knew they had a history. Honestly, anyone would’ve done the job but he was sitting right there and you wanted to be effective. So you flirted and they both ate it right up. Was it cruel? Maybe, but honestly if you didn’t know any better it felt like deep down Jack knew exactly what you were doing too. Either way, your little plan to piss Maya off clearly worked since you were now being stared down by her as she kept getting closer and closer to you. 

“Jack? Really?” Maya stopped right in your personal space, but you weren’t going to back down. 

“Why not Jack?” You shot back. 

“Because he’s… Jack! He and I- well we- we work together!” Maya’s arms shot up in frustration, but you weren’t phased. If anything, you were a little smug. “And you two were practically all over each other.”

Your eyebrow shot up at that. You hoped your plan to make her jealous would work, but you didn’t think it would work this well. It took everything in you not to smirk at her in triumph. “Why does that matter?” 

“Come on!” Maya huffed. “You know why.”

“No,” you challenged. “I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me?” 

“Because I-” Maya paused for a minute. You could see as she struggled to find what to say next. “Because it could get messy.”

You let out a sarcastic laugh and shook your head. She was really trying to avoid having a real conversation about her feelings, and you watched as she did mental gymnastics to get around it. “We were just having fun, remember? So nothing should get messy,” you fired back. “Unless, either you or Jack has feelings for me, then I don’t see why anything would get messy? And I mean… Come on, Maya, I don’t really know Jack that well so I don’t think he would be the one to catch feelings for me. Do you?”

You didn’t stop the smug smile that time. Maya stood there dumbfounded and you practically beamed at her with how proud you were of your own argument. You had her, she might not want to admit it, but you finally really did. Maybe she’s moved on, maybe she found your replacement, but that’s not going to dampen your victory. At least you can rub it in her face right now that she’s not allowed to have you anymore, while also confirming that she felt something. 

“You know that I don’t-”

“Do girlfriends,” you interrupted. “Yeah, I know. Listen, Maya, I’m done with this. If you don’t have something real to say then I’m going back out there.” You took a moment to see if Maya would respond, but she just stared back at you with wide eyes. Finally, you stepped around Maya, trying to reach the door. But you didn’t get a chance to even touch the lock.

Suddenly, Maya’s hand was wrapped around your elbow, pulling you back and turning you around. You stumbled awkwardly, reaching for the bathroom counter to steady yourself. “Maya, what the f-”

Her hand was on your chin in a blink of the eye. She held your head still as her lips came crashing onto yours. All words of protest you had were quickly, utterly lost.The both of you stumbled back at the sheer force of her kiss until your back was fully pressed to the counter, but her lips still didn’t part from yours. Your hands wrapped around the edge of the counter as you tried to keep yourself upright. Her lips pressed harder into yours and the hand that was once on your chin moved to tangle in your hair. The kiss was sudden and your brain didn’t register what was even happening at first, but when it finally did you should’ve stopped it instantly. Except, no matter how much your brain was screaming at you to be logical, you couldn’t. The kiss was breaking all the rules you set for yourself when it came to Maya now. But it just felt so fucking good.

Instead of pushing Maya away like you probably should’ve, you kissed her back. When her lips met yours with full force, you instantly accepted them. Even though your hands were currently busy steadying you, you still tried to push forward to have your body press fully to hers. The minute you felt her tongue trace your lip, you knew it was all over for you. The voice that was still telling you to stop went completely silent. Whatever Maya wanted, she could have. As long as she touched you the way you so pathetically wanted and so desperately missed, she could do whatever she wanted to you. 

You couldn’t stop the whimper that left your mouth when you felt one of Maya’s legs push between your thighs and press up slightly. Maya took that opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth, running it against your own. As much as you hated yourself for it, you were drowning in Maya. How could you deprive yourself of this feeling for as long as you did? She was everything you’ve been craving for a whole month. There wasn’t a second that went by that you weren’t filled with the overwhelming desire to feel her hands back on you. Each time she called, you hesitated to send it to voicemail. Each text, you found harder and harder to ignore. You tried to push all these feelings for her back down. God, how you fucking tried. But now one of her hands was slipping under your shirt, her nails were dragging down the skin of your stomach, and her tongue was licking into your mouth. Now, she was filling your every sense and you were willingly letting yourself get lost in it. 

It didn’t take long for you to let Maya’s body push your own up and onto the bathroom counter. Maya broke her hold on you to grab your legs and hook them over her own waist. If you weren’t already gone before, now, with the way Maya was between your thighs, you really were. You didn’t care about what promises you made to yourself, what this would feel like the next morning, all you wanted was Maya to keep doing what she was doing and you wouldn’t let anything get in the way of that right now. So when your legs were locked around her and her hands had moved to your pants, you didn’t stop her from popping open the button and undoing the zipper. Maybe, if you were being rational, you should’ve at least insisted on not doing this in the bathroom of a grimey bar, but you weren’t being rational. Honestly, if Maya stopped for even just a second you thought you’d explode. So instead, when Maya’s hands toyed with the edge of your underwear, in your irrational, impatient state, you grabbed her hand and pushed it further down. 

Maya also had absolutely no cares in the world. She didn’t care if they kicked the damn door down, she wasn’t going to let anything tear her away from you. In this moment, she tried with all her might to show you that the only one who gets to have you was her. Fuck Jack, she thought as her fingers were instantly met with your wetness when they grazed your folds. She was the one to cause that, she was the one to turn you on and have you already so deliciously disheveled in her arms. It was her, not him. It would never be him or anyone else, she promised herself as her teeth pulled at your lip and you let out a desperate whine. Only she would be the one to touch you like this from now on, she would make sure of it. 

Your body shuddered when you felt Maya’s fingers move down through your folds, collecting your wetness. Maya wasn’t wasting any time. She knew, with the precarious location that you two were currently in, that she didn’t have time to draw this out with you. Despite how much she wanted to take her time reminding you of how good only she could make you feel, that would have to come later tonight. At least Maya hoped for it, but with the way you were panting into her mouth as her fingers circled your entrance, she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be hard to convince you to hear her out and go home with her for more. 

Maya entered you with two fingers and you immediately let out a small gasp at the feeling. Her lips moved from yours finally and went to your neck. As she began to drag her fingers out of you slowly, you felt her whisper against your skin “fuck, I’ve missed you.” Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as her fingers stopped right at the tips before practically slamming back into you. And then she set a steady pace. It took everything in you not to let a moan slip from your lips as she started to fuck her fingers into you. Her pace wasn’t fast, but her fingers still moved in and out of you with an intensity so strong that her whole body rocked with yours. Your hands moved from their grip on the counter to wrap around her back and hold her closer to you as some sort of anchor for the sheer pleasure she was causing. Maya’s free arm wrapped around your waist to hold you upright while she pressed her whole body more fully into you. Her fingers kept moving and her tongue and teeth were busy running up and down your neck. When her fingers curled inside of you, she also picked a place to focus on your neck, no doubt leaving a large visible mark in her wake. 

Her increasing pace and the way she was latching onto your neck was way too much for you. You knew if you were just a little too loud then someone might notice. Yes, there was loud music, but still even that couldn’t drown out all the sounds Maya seemed to be trying to elicit from you. You pulled away from her lips that were currently making their way across your jaw and buried your head into her neck, trying your best to muffle the pitiful whines that were coming from you. Maya was now the one who was utterly smug, loving that you were struggling so hard to control yourself. She pulled your body impossibly closer and buried her own face into the top of your hair while she continued to fuck you. 

With her lips now free, Maya began repeating the absolute filthiest things to you as her fingers kept hitting just the right spot. “You feel so fucking good around my fingers,” she groaned as she continued to pump into you. “Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you cum all over my fingers.” All you could do was moan into her neck and grind into your fingers, trying your best to take them even deeper. Maya kept her pace until she felt you tighten around her fingers. Your nails were digging into her skin through her shirt and with one long moan, barely muffled into her shoulder, she felt you cum. Eventually, she slowed her movements to a stop and let your body slump against hers. Your hands relaxed their hold on her back, but you still kept your arms around her. 

The room was silent, apart from the sound of both of you trying to catch your breath. Maya pulled her fingers out of you slowly and a shiver ran throughout your body, but you stayed with your head buried in her shoulder. Honestly, you just didn’t want to face her. Now that the heat of the moment was starting to wear off, the shame was setting in. You threw caution to the wind and now you knew pain was coming. To add to all of it, you let her fuck you in a dirty bar bathroom of all places. 

Surprisingly, Maya’s arms didn’t leave you. In fact, she didn’t pull away at all. Instead, you felt her lips press to the top of your head.   Another moment passed like that and one of her hands moved to run through your hair. The softness of it all was shocking to you. Definitely not a usual move of Maya’s after a night like this with her. 

“Come home with me,” she finally whispered. 

“Maya…” you tried to pull back from her, but her arms tightened around you and held you still against her body. 

“It’ll be different this time.” She was clearly nervous as she spoke. You didn’t answer her, instead you let her continue to hold you against her. Your mind was weighing your options, trying to gauge how serious she was, but then she whispered a gentle, “Please… I promise it’ll be different.” Without a doubt, you heard the sincerity in her tone that time and, finally, you nodded in agreement. 

That night she took you home with her. Jack watched from the bar, trying to cover his knowing smirk with his drink as Maya proudly walked you past him and out of there. To your relief, Maya kept her promise. For the first night, you fell asleep in her strong arms. There was still much to talk about and in all of this Maya still hadn’t actually told you how she felt. But you knew, deep down, you knew you meant something to her. Right now, that was enough.

A/N: Just so you know, next time I write for Maya... I want to destroy her emotionally. So send me some angst requests

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