#i never once implied anything about your intelligence. you are the only person making yourself feel stupid.

[e-102]

alright alright alright i won’t be vague or anything, to the guy i was messing with today: genuinely, there’s no way anyone is going to nicely debate with you when you call them mentally deficient and imply how much smarter than them you are. i’m sorry you were having an anxiety attack because i wasn’t taking you seriously, i really honestly truly don’t want to cause you mental anguish, but you were being an asshole. point blank.

the fact that you felt the need to get on my ass for making fun of a guy who used ‘thus’ in this context is ridiculous:

….in what world is this an intelligent reply. “npc life”….this person was talking like a goofball. i found the contrast between their childish reply and the words they chose to convey it funny, i made fun of them because they were not actually serious enough to warrant a serious response (especially not on tumblr.com) not because i hate the word ‘thus’.

but upon seeing my reply you felt the need to prove yourself superior and imply that i’m stupid.

…okay? you know what i thought when i saw your reply, i thought “wow i don’t even remember what this is about” and then “what’s wrong with this guy?”

you seem to have some sort of need to prove yourself, you reblogged my post saying something about how you’re the dumbest person in your family but feel good because there’s people as stupid as me online. maybe you should reflect on your complex and leave me out of it, im not insecure enough to have to prove my intelligence to you.

my sister let me know that you seem to be really upset about this interaction and i’m sorry about that, but i also saw that you continued to insult me and imply that i’m stupid or mentally a child on that very same post. i’m not sure how to explain to you that when you’re being an asshole online no one is obligated to take you seriously.

i’m not dming you, you are unpleasant and i don’t wanna talk to you. we are both 24 years old bro, let’s not do this again.

[ddarker-dreams]

The Good Ol' Days.

Yan Alhaitham x F Reader x Yan Kaveh.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships and implied kidnapping. Word count: 2.1k.

The sweeter the past, the more bitter the present.

“Seriously, this isn’t fair! Let her roll again!”

“I’m not sure what you expected from a game that revolves around chance.”

You've heard this before, you think. Not the exact verbiage, no, but the sentiment strikes a chord. Plucks at your heartstrings in a familiar melody. 

“Well, fine, let me lend her some of my money then.” 

“First, we both know that’s against the rules; and second, even if you sold your single Mondstadt property, you wouldn’t have enough to cover the charge. Your strategy of holding out in case you land on a Waypoint is as brilliant as ever.” 

The hot passion met by cool indifference that leaves you forces you into the mediator role. This position was specially formed for you, shaped in such a way that no one else could ever fit. Consequently, it adheres to your person too well, you can’t go forward or backward. You’re stuck. The more you struggle, the tighter your restraints become. 

“You…! I won once, when I got all four Waypoints. It’s a viable tactic. Right, [First]? Don’t you remember how huffy he was the night he came in last? … [First]?”

When opposing temperatures meet, condensation forms. 

“... You’re crying,” Kaveh sounds as if he’s seen a ghost, but it’s only you. “Is something wrong?” 

The better question would be what isn’t wrong. He won’t ask that, though, so you’ll never get to properly answer. You sit as still as a statue on the couch. From your display stand, you sense you’re being stared at by two sets of eyes, one distraught, the other scrutinizing. The former comes from your left and the latter from across the table. 

Kaveh’s hands cup both sides of your face. He wipes away the few wayward tears with the pad of this thumb, his eyebrows pinching together. Wordlessly, Alhaitham gets up from his cushion on the floor and takes his place by your right side. Their towering forms seal you in place. 

“You made her cry,” Kaveh accuses, his eyes narrowing. “You should’ve just let me go bankrupt for her.” 

“For someone who claims I have the emotional intelligence of a rock, you can be rather dense yourself. I sincerely doubt that has anything to do with this.” 

“Then why is she—” 

“I remember,” you somehow manage to squeeze the words out of your tight throat. Their attention returns to you. Your next words come out quietly. “That game, I mean. When you won. You had another glass of wine to celebrate, and… kept drunkenly throwing your victory in Alhaitham’s face. You slept through your alarm the next morning and missed a meeting with a high-profile client.” 

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Kaveh nods along slowly. He’s using that gentle, soothing tone from when this nightmare began and he didn’t want to upset you further. You can tell he’s trying desperately to follow along despite not having the directions necessary.

“After that, you started a campaign to not speak to Alhaitham until he apologized, but he didn’t even realize you were ignoring him,” the sound you let out is in between a choked sob and laugh. Kaveh’s arms fall limp as if they’ve lost all strength. “He told me… ‘Lately, Kaveh is more tolerable to be around’, or something like that.” 

You hug your knees to your chest. “Since you weren’t willing to talk to Alhaitham, you’d have me relay messages. It was silly. Eventually, I got you guys to make amends. It was like pulling teeth though. Heh. Thinking about it now, I can’t help wondering how many times I dug my own grave.” 

Kaveh softly speaks your name, but Alhaitham finds words before he can.

“So that’s what this is about,” Alhaitham notes. When you first met the brilliant Scribe, you mistakenly interpreted his rationality for apathy. You know better now. If he were truly disinterested, he wouldn’t bother stringing words together, curt as they may be. “Dwelling on the past only leads to unnecessary grief.” 

Kaveh sends a halfhearted glare in Alhaitham’s direction. “What he means to say is that you shouldn’t blame yourself.” 

“Because it wouldn’t have changed anything?” You question, staring deep into Kaveh’s eyes, their color reminiscent of the burning sun setting over the desert. 

He averts his gaze and swallows thickly. “Well…” 

“What he wants to say is that yes, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Alhaitham chimes in where Kaveh is hesitant to. Such is the nature of their dynamic when you’re involved — barbed truths or coddling lies. “The future we were envisioning had already been decided.” 

“The condemned can’t condemn themselves, huh?” You chuckle mirthlessly. 

They both frown. 

“You aren’t condemned, you’re— you’re free from having to worry about those things you used to stress over. Rent, bills, deadlines, you know. The worst parts of life. You can focus on your passions without any restraints now,” Kaveh reasons. Or so he tries. 

You gnaw on your lower lip. It’s been a while since you’ve bothered arguing with either of them on the subjects that truly matter, those topics have been deemed taboo. You can complain about Kaveh’s clinginess when he’s drunk or how tight Alhaitham holds you at night, but should you try to steer the conversation toward your captivity, it’s shut down. Kaveh makes you wish you never brought it up whereas Alhaitham instills regret that you dared to try. 

They’re both bracing themselves, you can feel it in the air. Sitting and awaiting a tempest of emotions that one will try to soothe and the other wave away. 

You think about fighting then remember why you stopped, falling into this limbo of existing without living. 

You could challenge Kaveh’s weak point. Demand to know why he doesn’t do the same then, never leaving the four walls of Alhaitham’s house, committing himself wholly to drawing up blueprints. Alhaitham might make some dry comment that he wouldn’t allow Kaveh to leech off him, or maybe Kaveh would apologize, and say that he didn’t intend to upset you. He would mean it too. You’d cry, beg, scream until your throat was raw and your voice scratchy, but in Alhaitham’s own words, it wouldn’t have mattered. 

Their minds are made up. Their resolve is an unshakable foundation upon which your gaol is built. In the same way they soundproofed the house, so too are their hearts insulated from any argument that’d champion your cause. You tried and failed and tried and failed again. 

At least if you don’t try, you won’t experience failure. 

“... Alright.” 

They exchange brief looks. 

“Alright?” Kaveh parrots the word, but without matching your listless tone. “That’s— oh. Huh. Okay.” 

He mumbles the last few words to himself, as if trying to process them aloud. You can’t fault him for his confusion. 

It’s silent then, the kind that holds weight. You uncurl yourself from your protective shell. You feel like a specimen being subjected to naturalistic observation, neither researcher willing to interfere, lest it negatively influence their data’s results. There’s a lot you can get used to — you had no other choice, really — yet that never fails to make you uncomfortable in your own skin. Unwilling to endure it any longer, you quickly form an escape plan. 

“Well,” you start, earning their rapt attention, “I think I’m going to, uh, call it a night.” 

You stand up as you say this. There’s a light pressure on your wrist, chaining you in place. 

“Stay,” Alhaitham’s voice urges. Your muscles go taut, then you hear a subdued sigh. “If you don't mind.” 

Kaveh must’ve given him quite the nasty look for Alhaitham to get that close to saying please. You sit back down, almost in a trance, as if the Scribe had cast a spell. Glancing down, you realize it’s Alhaitham who grabbed your wrist. He doesn't let go when you situate yourself back into place. 

Kaveh takes his chance to tether you as well. Lithe arms encircle you, gently pulling you into him. The side of your face presses against his chest, his bare skin exuding copious amounts of heat. He smells familiar, for this scene is familiar. Desperation with a hint of citrus and spice. He cradled you a lot in the beginning, shushing your sobs and drying your tears. At first, you’d resist, flailing your limbs wildly like you were a feral cat. Inevitably, his strength and stamina outlasted yours. 

His nose brushes against the crown of your head. “I care about you more than I could ever properly convey. Whatever you’re thinking, I can take it. Er, we can take it. I’d prefer that over you blaming yourself for anything.” 

Dazedly, you nod. He goes quiet, then, preparing himself for an onslaught you can bring yourself to unleash. Seconds bleed into one after another. You hear the furious pounding of Kaveh’s heartbeat. How if you twist your body, his breath hitches in his throat. It’s nice to know that at least his body will always be honest with you where his well-meaning words fall short. 

“You’re trying to regain a semblance of control by thinking ‘had I done this, or had I not done that, it wouldn’t have ended up this way.’” 

Kaveh exhales sharply through his nose. “Alhaitham, that’s enough.” 

“Let me finish,” he continues. His fingers creep onto your chin and take your face captive. He peels you away from your position against Kaveh, who stubbornly refuses to relinquish his grasp on your torso. Alhaitham’s countenance is close to yours so as not to leave any room for you to cower away. Those analytical eyes that can pick apart the world have you in their sights. “Do you know why you’re here, [First]?” 

In the past, when you struggled with an assignment or class, the infamously disinterested Alhaitham would take it upon himself to tutor you. He was a fair yet strict teacher. On those long nights spent hunched over a messy desk, he’d have a different air about him. He stretched you. In the moment, it felt like he was demanding more than what you could provide, but upon further reflection, he just knew what limits you could be pushed to better. 

“I’d like an answer.” 

You take a deep, shaky breath. “Because you both claim to hold some sort of affection for me.” 

Kaveh would look like a kicked puppy if you said this to him. It’s Alhaitham, though, and his composure is infallible. 

“Word it however spitefully you want, you get the gist of things,” he drawls. The intensity behind his gaze is enough to make you shiver. “If nothing you’ve been able to say or do has changed our mind now, why would it have back then? It might feel good to sulk, but your logic is erroneous. You’re making yourself miserable only to see if this wallowing is more palatable than the kind you’re used to.” 

You hate when Alhaitham’s right. It’s a shame he so frequently is. 

“Can you blame me?” 

“... No,” he admits. “But this proto-nihilism is worse for your mental well-being than anything else you’ve tried so far. I’d like to nip it in the bud.” 

Your smile is thin and far from kind. “Because it makes you uncomfortable?” 

“I’ll leave that to your overactive imagination to decide.” 

He relinquishes his grip on you, leans back into the couch, and crosses his legs. That posture positively irks you. Sparks from kindling flitter throughout your being like confetti. 

“Seriously, you have no tact,” Kaveh rests his chin atop your head. “They should study you in a lab somewhere.” 

“Says the one who’s taking advantage of [First]'s emotional vulnerability to cling to her like a parasite.” 

“Hey! Don’t listen to him, [First]. He’s just being a grump. You don’t think that’s what I’m doing, right?”

“I’d like to roll again,” you adopt a sickeningly sweet tone while addressing Alhaitham. “Please.” 

“... Right? [First]?” Kaveh tries again.

Alhaitham speaks up before you can even consider entertaining the whining male behind you. “And why should I bend the rules for you?” 

You lean forward with enough momentum that you’re able to break free from Kaveh’s grasp. Newfound vigor burns inside you. Perhaps a day will come when it extinguishes, but as for now, the flame ignites anew. Hot and ready to burn. 

Your lips brush against Alhaitham’s ear. “Are you afraid of losing?” 

He looks at you from the corner of his eyes, bemusement evident. The start of a smirk dances on his lips. 

“Not at all. Roll as many times as you please.” 

And so you cast the die again. 

Come what may — an unlikely win, tense truce, or total loss — you refuse to capitulate without trying.

[purecantarella]

Red Velvet Reaction : Almost First Kiss

i thought to do this on a whim and i think it'd be rather cute so i hope you all enjoy!! i do base everything on the first meeting so if there are bits of confusion you can read it but its not necessarily needed red velvet members x reader disclaimer/s : a few curses but in terms of content we're good. fluffy and angsty content, wbk.

Bae Joohyun / Irene

Social cues weren’t exactly the oldest member of Red Velvet’s specialty. Of course she was intelligent and very aware of her own social image when it came to her idol persona. But she was still often lost when it came to relating to others.

You loved that about her, but also it made being her girlfriend an uphill battle.

Like during your first getaway as an official couple. It had been a perfect night, you and her having a quiet night going from food stall to food stall. Her dietary restrictions shot to hell with her wrapped in your arm as you walked by the cool ocean.

Once she was feeling tired of walking, you halted and placed your overcoat on the sandy beach. Irene felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks as you plopped down and opened your arm to her with a loving and warm smile on your lips. The crashing of the waves against the shore relaxed the singer to no ends, your warmth only adding to the sensation.

“I think you needed this, with all the performances and dealing with the girls,” Irene giggled beside you as you imply her members are more mischief than their worth. “You haven’t had much time to unwind and be yourself.” You place your lips on the crown of her head.

Irene says nothing for a moment, only moving to wrap her arms around your waist. “All of that was fine…” She whispers quietly before shyly pressing her nose into your neck. “I just hated being away from you.” You smile and pull her closer to you as the night moves in front of the both of you, enjoying the calm it brought.

Irene soaks in the moment, bliss was the only thing on her mind. You on the other hand, can’t you’re your eyes off her lips, wondering just how they would feel against yours. If when you two did kiss would it be warm like she’d always imagined or if when she smiled you would too. You breathe a shaky breath before you clear your throat and pull away slightly, much to your girlfriend’s dismay. Evident by the complainant whines.

Unable to hide the smile on your face, you lift your hand, brushing the stray hairs from her face. The charming smile on her face only makes your heart soar even higher than it already had. “You are the most amazing and perfect person I’ve ever come to know, and I’m so glad you chose me out of everyone who came your way.” You gush making the older woman smile even brighter.

Before you can lean in or do much of anything, something shoots up from a distance, illuminating the sky with a series of brightly colored lights. You both gasp and your quick to cover her ears from the sound. You look back down at her, the serenity of the moment shattered, but the childlike glee on her face makes you forget anything else.

“Look at that, N/n!” She says with an unbridled sense of joy. You feel a sense of hope, maybe you could salvage this. But once again, the mood is ruined as she squeals in shock and fear from another firework shooting up in the sky. You smile and shake your head, covering her ears further and pulling her closer. “I’ve got you, Joohyun.”

It wasn’t long until you both made your way back to the hotel, Irene needing some rest after the long day of walking around and spending time together. While you went into the bathroom to take a shower, Irene excitedly told her members about your day spent together as a couple.

“Then there were literal fireworks! It was magical and Y/n…” She sighs dreamily, “Y/n was absolutely amazing. Gosh I’ve never felt this way before…” Yeri giggles and takes the phone from where it was propped up in the kitchen. “Oooohh, somebody’s in loooove!” She teases in a childish manner. Irene blushes and rolls her eyes before the phone is snatched from the youngest member.

“Wait. Did you two kiss?” Seulgi asks with a teasing smile. But Irene’s expression quickly shifts into one of confusion. “…No…? Did she want to kiss me?”

There’s a silence before a loud whine comes from the phone, most definitely from Wendy. Snatching the phone from Seulgi, the vocalist was now the focus of the camera. “How could you have not wanted to kiss her?!” She pauses to laugh ridiculously. “The ocean, what she said, the serendipitous fireworks?! It was straight out of a movie, unnie!”

The realization of the romance of the moment suddenly dawns on Irene and she feels the need to smack herself in the head. “Shit.” Irene mumbles, amusing her members on the phone.

“You really are clueless, aren’t you unnie?”

Kang Seulgi

Seulgi liked you, a lot. But more than that, she liked getting involved with your life, friends and family, and most of all, your work. Popping into your bakeshop so much that patrons thought she was the manager, thankfully they weren’t aware of her identity or fame.

Her days off were spent there, tirelessly watching you in amazement and adoration. Today was no different. You began frosting the tops of your order’s cupcakes when you realize your girlfriend’s subtle gaze. You giggle to yourself before shooting her a playful glare. “Stare at me any longer and I’ll have to ask you to pay a fine.”

Seulgi merely smiles and props her cheeks up on her own hands as she continues to stare at you lovingly. “I’d happily pay millions to see that smile every day.” You roll your eyes before placing the piping bag down and motioned for her to come close. She stands upright and places a hand on her chest, feigning confusion to which you laugh and beckon her to hurry.

"If you're going to be here as often as you are, you can at least help." You complain jokingly. She looks at you nervously before tentatively picking up the bag filled with icing. You watch, holding back laughter, as she sloppily iced the top of your cupcakes. Feeling a twinge of guilt when you hear Seulgi wince when she squeezed the bag too hard.

Quickly and carefully, you take her hands in yours, guiding her movements in a fluid motion. Your lips press gently against the shell of her ear, innocently whispering, "Take it slow, there's no need to rush it."

Your girlfriend blushes and silently follows your movements until there's a clean swirl atop the pastry, confidence from moments ago melted away. She turns to face you and is flustered to see you as close as you were.

Only a mere breathe away.

Seulgi looks down at your lips, the light sheen from your lipgloss and the scent of cherry made her head spin. Her eyes look for yours, which are glued to the cupcakes bellow the both of you. The warmth of your radiant smile and general body heat made the dancer even more flustered.

Realizing she hadn't spoken since you stepped in to help, you refocus your attention to Seulgi. Your smile brightens as you watch her gazing at you, so flustered and so cute. You lean in to brush your nose against hers.

"There you go again with the staring, Seul." Your girlfriend smiles as she inches closer, until your noses are pressed against one another. Her eyes find yours as yours watch her lips.

Before your lips can really connect, the bell of the bakeshop rings out, your client's voice pulls you both out of the moment, "Y/n? Are the cupcakes ready?"

Your eyes widen before panic runs through your veins. You pull away from the dancer to prepare the boxes. "They'll be out in a few! I'm sorry for the wait."

Once again, Seulgi watches as you dash around the kitchen with admiration oozing from her eyes. She continues to ice the cupcakes beside her carefully. Her mind lost in imagining what your real first kiss will be like.

(you and me both seul)

Son Seungwan / Wendy

"You've been hauled up in here for days..." Wendy mused as she leaned against the doorframe of your office. Your head shot up and your glasses fell down the bridge of your nose. A low laugh falls from the singer's lips as she approaches you. "Were you really not going to pay me a visit?"

You chuckle, staring hopelessly at your laptop. The draft of your unedited chapter staring at you, taunting you for it being left uncompleted for as long as it has. Your attention is pulled from the semi-blank page when Wendy plucks your eyeglasses from your face.

The singer pouts before propping her head on her hand, staring up at you with soft puppy dog eyes. "Can't you take a break? Even for a few minutes?"

You chuckle softly before taking her free hand in yours, "Editors want these chapters by the end of the week." Squeezing her hand in yours apologetically, you look down back at your screen. Much to Wendy's dismay.

Half an hour flies by, inspiration slipping away from you, but Wendy only sat there, either on her phone or roaming around your office. Patiently waiting for your attention like a pup. You look at the time on your screen, a flourish of guilt building in the pit of your stomach. You wanted to give her as much attention as she needed.

You breathe a soft sigh, before pushing yourself out of your desk, catching your girlfriend's attention. Her eyes brighten as you smile up at her, "I could use a break. After all who better to spend my day with than my muse." You stand and walk over to Wendy, who can barely contain her joy of being called your muse.

You place a soft kiss on her temple before wrapping your arm around her, pulling her into you. She smiles up at you and begins to ramble on about the things she wants to do with you, your mind wrapped around the look of her lips as she does.

Realizing that you were zoning out, she places a hand on your cheek, thumb brushing your cheekbone gently as she stared up at you with adoration and love in her eyes. Your heart felt like it would combust in your chest.

"You alright?" The singer asks, her English accent sending another wave of bliss over your body. You're unable to say anything or hide the smile that creeps up on your lips. You place your hand on hers, leaning into her touch.

Then a stroke of genius hits you.

Your eyes burst open and you abruptly pull away, and laugh madly to yourself. "That's it! That's what I've been trying to find." You plop yourself back into your desk chair and begin typing madly, the blank page filling almost instantly. You smile up at her proudly, seeing only a look of confusion on her face.

You smile even brighter, "Go get ready, baby. We're going out tonight, and we'll do everything you want and more." She approaches with a warm expression, one that only overflows your heart at this point. "I just need to send this over to my editor..." You pause, reaching over the desk, caressing her cheek lovingly.

"I really would be lost without my muse." Wendy merely blushes and turns a heel before skipping happily over to your closet in hopes to find some clothes she'd left at your house while you excitedly type an email to your editors.

All the while, you can't stop thinking about Wendy and just how much you were going to kiss her later that night.

Park Sooyoung / Joy

Three months more of absolute torture and Joy still couldn't fine it in her heart to break-up with her boyfriend. Each time she tried she was met with immense guilt or something got in the way before she could end it with him.

None of that irritation could really make up for you though.

You were somehow more and more insufferable every time Joy saw you. A cocky smirk, a passing snide comment, and on the rare occasion, flirtatious actions that made the singer question her own morals. You were an absolute pain in the ass, but she couldn't get enough of you.

"Are you actually going to do it this time or are you going to chicken out like you did last week?" Irene chastised over the phone as Joy pushed her way into her soon-to-be ex-boyfriend's apartment. She scoffs at her leader's sarcasm, "After last nights 'date' I don't think I can stand another minute dating him, unnie. It has to end today."

The conversation doesn't last for too long after that given Joy needed to ride the elevator up. Her mind raced at what she was going to say to him, what he would feel. Another pang of guilt rings in her chest as the rickety steel doors open for her. Walking in, she presses the floor number and leans back on the metal frame before pulling out her phone again to feed her boredom.

As the doors begin to close a hand thrusts itself through the metal, making Joy squeal in terror. Only for the doors to slide open to reveal you, grinning proudly at the chaos you'd ensued. "Hey there, pretty girl." You pause, taking an almost playful step into the elevator with her, "I like you screaming like that, you should do it more often in front of me." You tease, the shit-eating smile still very present on your face.

It pissed Joy off to no end. She had no idea why though.

She crossed her arms and forces herself not to look at you. From the corner of her eye though she sees you looking at her shamelessly, grin still prominent on your face. Joy looks over at you, eyes dripping with frustration. "Are you just going to stare at me the entire time?"

You laugh and push yourself from the metal railing of the elevator, "I could do much more if that's what you're asking me, Joy." You tease, her name slipping from your lips in the most irritatingly attractive way she could imagine.

"Please, like you could." The singer snaps, only goating you on. You laugh heartily before leaning uncomfortably close to her. She remembers how you did something similar the night you first met her and her heart rushes as the smell of your earthy perfume reaches her nose. Your smile falls, a sense of seriousness looming over your expression.

The foreign expression on your face makes her nervous. You press your lips firmly together. She watches as your eyes fall from hers to look down at her lips. "I've told you before, Joy." You pause, your voice firm, "Don't test me. I might not be able to control myself."

You inch closer, testing the waters. Joy was conflicted, you were so annoying to her but she couldn't help but wonder how your lips would feel against hers.

A sort of magnitism she figures.

"You're trouble." Joy whispers before a small smile etches on her lips. You mirror her expression, leaning in closer. "So I've been told."

You hesitate as her breathe hitches. Your eyes find hers, desperately looking for an answer to the questions you had from the moment you first laid eyes on her.

Slowly, but with conviction, she nods, giving you the go ahead. Before your lips can meet though, the elevator dings pleasantly as the doors slide open. Your brother standing on the other end of the steel frame, eyes down on his phone as Joy squeaks and you jump away quickly.

Your brother looks up and smiles, "Joy! Y/n! You two just get here?"

Joy sputters as you simply stare at him, ashamed of yourself. Guilt reeks from you as you laugh awkwardly. "Yeah, I saw Joy a couple blocks down and decided to drive her here. Make sure she's safe." You rush out before stepping out of the suddenly hot metal box.

Your brother quirks a curious brow before you usher him to his unit, "Give me a second, I left something in the car, I'll be right back, oppa."

Not thinking much of it, he shrugs and walks to his unit, leaving you and Joy alone again. You breathe a sigh of relief as Joy laughs nervously. "I guess that was a close call, huh?"

You don't speak. Only brushing past her gently. You hold the elevator doors open as Joy turns to speak flustered. "I uh...look I didn't mean for things to get too far and I hope you don't think badly of me-"

You cut her off, all brightness in your voice instantly evaporated. "It was just as much my fault. Don't worry about it." You pause before looking her sternly in the eye. "If you don't want to be with my brother. I suggest you make that obvious to him."

"I-"

"And until you've figured that out...I think it's best I don't show my face." Joy hesitates at your words but she hears a slight tremble in your voice. "I would have never done this to my brother but you...you have some sort of pull on me, Joy. And I can't stop myself around you."

In attempts to lighten the mood, Joy whispers, "Bad girl has a heart?"

You laugh bitterly before reaching out to caress Joy's face, bringing her an odd sense of comfort. One she'd never felt with her boyfriend. You bite your lower lip and look down, "Go back to your boyfriend, Joy." Pulling your hand back, and locking eyes with her as the doors shut.

"Bye Joy."

The door closes and Joy takes a moment to recollect herself as she finds herself in front of her boyfriend...your brother. He looks over his shoulder with a warm and kind smile. Upon seeing her confused face, he approaches her and places his hand on her cheek.

It was cold and foreign to her. Her mind races, wondering why she ever got together with him in the first place when you were there, just waiting for her. You could be everything she'd ever needed.

"Are you alright, sweetie?" His voice breaks her focus, and she sees his warm smile...the innocence in his eyes. She smiles up and shakes her head. "Just a little tired."

All the while you sit in your car for a couple minutes, hoping she'd walk out of the elevator and come looking for you. You close your eyes and breathe out your disappointment.

"That's karma for you, N/n..." You whisper to yourself as you start your car and drive off.

Kim Yerim / Yeri

You felt her eyes on you the entire evening, at first it was rather flattering. But then as the night wore on, you began being worried and a little insecure about yourself.

Finally having enough of it, you look over to your girlfriend with a exasperated expression. Yeri's taken aback and begins to flush as you look at her. You chuckle at her expression before reaching for the TV remote, pausing the movie on screen.

Adjusting yourself to face her better, you lean on your shoulder as you smile at her sheepishly. "Everything alright on that side of the world?" You ask jokingly, making her giggle and shuffle towards you.

You can tell she's thinking hard and it's bugging her. "Hey..." You pause, placing your hand on hers, weaving your fingers into hers, squeezing and offering her a bit of comfort. "What's wrong?"

Yeri hesitates, jolting forward but pulling back. Her member's words reverberating in her head.

Earlier in the week, her members and her were enjoying a break from their rehearsals. While they drank water and picked up some light snacks, the youngest member immediately pulled her phone out and giggled to herself. Her member's stare at her curiously before she waves them off, "Y/n just sent me a funny picture of her when she was younger."

Wendy and Irene share a look as Joy and Seulgi giggle to themselves, playfully kissing the air to tease the young woman. She simply rolls her eyes and continues to type away at her phone and smiles so brightly. It makes her groupmate's hearts melt.

"So just how serious are you and Y/n?" Irene asks, motherly instincts kicking in. Yeri flushes a deep red before putting her phone away, playing with the case. "I don't know exactly...I like her though." Unable to repress her smile, she shyly turns on her own axis, "I really like her."

Before any of them could tease her though, she began, "But..." The girls watch her intently. Wordlessly, she lifts her hand up to her lips. A chorus of gasps pull from the girls's lips before a barrage of questions flow between the five women.

Suddenly feeling the pressure to show you her affection, Yeri decides to text you asking if you want to sleep over soon.

Back in the moment, she hesitates and practically rocks back and forth. You watch her eyes, gazing down at your lips. You smile and raise her hand to your mouth, placing a delicate kiss over her soft knuckles. One on each finger before you stare up at her with a warm smile.

"There's no rush Yerim...It can wait." You pull her closer, wrapping your arms around her shoulders, leaving feather light kisses over her shoulder, the corner of her jaw, "I can wait, alright? I like you a lot, and I want our firsts to be special...not out of compliance."

Yeri pulls away and smiles at you, shifting to leave a lingering kiss on your ever redenning cheek. "You're a gem, N/n..."

The smile on your face brightens before she curls up into your lap, grabbing the remote from you to play the movie from the beginning. In spite of your complaints, you settle down quickly and pull her impossibly closer, savoring the feeling of the young woman in your arms.

why did joy's come out the longest ? HAHAHAHA i hope you all enjoyed!! i love you all and see you all vv soon!! byeeee 💖 oh and if there are any filo fans here who are going to the itzy or mamamoo or blackpink concerts in the Philippines, let me know and we can meet up maybe. - r

[calebwittebane]

thinking back on several weeks ago. cant get over him having my sibling deliver a message to me that hes "ready to really apologize to me" but that i "need to tell him what exactly i want him to apologize for"...... statements that contradict each other thoroughly AND put the responsibility on me AND imply that its anything but obvious to him what hes done to me that i might perhaps be holding against him and/or would be deserving an apology for 😂👍 i understand hes not the most emotionally intelligent person in the world, i get it, neither am i, he hasnt exactly had a lot of good examples to follow in life, but like. if that was supposed to be in good faith and not just an instance of him taunting me (and no, yeah, i do think its mostly the former), then why bother.

like just leave me alone man. you know what youve done, and i wont say that youll never change, but my fundamental lack of humanity in your eyes will never change. the entitlement will never change. youve fucked up your eldest daughter for life and all things considered you got off consequence-free. said daughter not talking to you anymore isnt even a consequence, i was just putting a stop to that shit once and for all and giving you a Go On About Your Life option. im the only person to have ever truly cut you off. even my mother still talks to you when necessary, and very much on cordial and friendly terms. my mother, whom i once had that conversation with in her car where she hit the brakes abruptly and erupted into rage and grief, swearing to god that she would kill you with her bare hands--that sentiment stuck around for a few days, only to dissipate and be forgotten about. its fine. youll be fine. hell, even with regards to your physical health, how careless and arrogant youve been with it, seems youre very tough to kill. you get over things easy.

and i get it, youre not happy. your life seems very empty. youre depressed. in some ways you envy me, because youve seen me figure things out about myself that you could never admit to yourself about experiencing. you wanna get into new things, give your life some purpose, meet some new people, but you just dont have the energy or social skills to do any of that. i get it. feels bad, yes. but all things considered youve got it so damn easy, im tired of pretending you dont. i think im fully actually ready to once and for all stop fretting over how unhappy you must be. its not even that i think its your fault that you are. its just that you have agency that you dont take and privilege that you dont appreciate. its embarrassing how many years i spent agonizing over your well-being, in absurdly misguided acts of selflessness and some kind of masochistic pragmatism--"its not about who gets assigned what amount of responsibility to hold, what amount of culpability; its about minimizing suffering, its about making life more bearable for people to live, and in the name of that outcome if im the one who can step in, im the one who will step in"... absolutely bonkers way to think in this context. crazy that i thought i could guide you into better habits and help you by keeping you company, when not only am i somebody you have never listened to and never would listen to and never would even imagine listening to, about anything, my company amounted to giving you continued access to a toy youd enacted your worst instincts and urges upon.

but even all of that aside, you really were just never doing that badly. sometimes i was so scared for you, for your safety, but i have to wonder how much of it was just a mirrored repeat of my being scared of you, for my safety. i mean, there had been a time in my life--most of it early, formative--that i had to take your threats and my fear very seriously. but now? now i see that its easier than ever to stop blaming myself for not caring. because (and i realize that im lucky to have it so simple here) you really are not in that much pain at all. you are in pain, yes, you have your own trauma, your own mental health struggles, your own physical health issues. you own bleakness and lack of fulfillment. and i say that given your circumstances, they are all extremely manageable. and youll be fine. and you are fine. and i am not. and i dont know when i will be fine, and what its like to be fine.

there has never been, in my entire life, a single instance of you expressing genuine care for me. nothing, not when i was sick or injured (there was annoyance, often just anger and blame directed at me), not when i was beyond miserable, not when i failed and struggled at things, never. Never. to the point that it took me ages to even realize thered been anything missing there, because how would i have known?

i think now about how one particular blatanly phony show of "caring" on your part was ultimately the last straw for me, what caused me to finally go zero contact--when you spread wild theories about me to our family behind my back, which culminated in a deeply, profoundly humiliating "intervention" you took part in. because i needed to be put in my place, reminded i was a walking failure, a maliciously irresponsible sicko, not right in the head, not deserving of autonomy. and good grief, that harrowing ordeal was the best i had ever gotten, that was part of your Treating Me Better! that was the most faithful illusion of care i had ever received from you, and it was so flimsy, such a low bar to set for past instances to fail to clear, there was nowhere else to go from there. that was it. you may change, but this will never change. its the same kind of sentiment as giving a peaceful offer of a True Genuine Heartfelt Apology while asking what youre supposed to be sorry for. its the same disregard and entitlement. a sorry excuse for good faith. scraps that are humiliating to try and pick up. theres no reason for me to bother.

so leave me alone. get over it. get over me. youre not getting me back. today, next year, decades from now, itd be wasted on you. youre not getting a symbolic reassurance or something to feed your twisted nostalgia. youre not getting a clarification on anything. youre not getting closure or whatever the hell. get over it. worry about yourself. your liver and kidneys arent gonna keep up with you forever.

*gets triggered* ummm wat the FACK ever -_-

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

alphabet boy

SYNOPSIS: You should feel extremely lucky that the handsome and intelligent Armin Arlert is your tutor...even when he's a little mean to you. Because that's your fault, isn't it? He wouldn't have to be mean if you weren't so damn stupid.

PAIRING: Armin x FEM!Reader

DEDICATED TO: armin fuckers. non armin fuckers, i hope i can convert you.

TW: dubcon touching, manipulative behavior, gaslighting, academia shaming,

WC: 1.8k

“Maybe you’re not cut out for this class.”

He said it so casually, a comment spoken between the flip of textbook pages. You couldn’t shake off the undeniable hurt.

“I-Uhm, uh, yeah I have to study a lot...but I like this class. It was a pain to get off the waitlist.” You keep your voice optimistic and light, hoping to mask the offense taken.

You don’t know why Armin would say that, but maybe he was just being logical...he’s seen you struggle, of course, he’d think the class was too hard for you.

The blond sighs, closing his novel that he brought with him while he waited for you to finish your practice problems.

“You can barely keep up with the weekly homework assignments. You didn’t even hand in your assignment last week, right? Better drop out now before the add and drop deadline.” His voice is soft and cold at the same time. It’s unnerving.

You tuck your hair behind your ears, eyes set low, too ashamed to meet your tutor’s. Armin had been your tutor for the past few weeks now, and you thought it was going pretty well. He was so so smart that you couldn’t help but be a little starstruck. He was handsome too, short-cropped blond hair, wide blue eyes, with a wardrobe that was composed of slacks and sweaters.

Usually, he was always overly polite and charming. You could make countless mistakes and his patience was endless. He had some off-days where he was a little withdrawn and quiet. You never held it against him though, knowing he had no obligation to make idle chatter. But sometimes, you could feel his chilly gaze watching you even though he had a book propped open.

“I emailed the professor, he was really chill about it. Last week was really rough for me, you know? I wasn’t feeling well and...”

“You know excuses don’t fly in the real world right? You’re in college now. Professor Ackerman was just being courteous. He probably thinks you’re lazy.” Even though you try not to look at him, you can feel Armin’s azure blues burn holes into you. There was this quiet intensity about him that made you worry about when the restraints would come off.

Armin can’t help but let condescension drip over his words. Any self-respecting person would defend themselves, but not you. Not when you’re already broken by your own insecurities that make it that much easier for him to trample on.

He can already see pearly-sheened tears leaking from the corner of your hopeless eyes. How cute. You part your pretty little mouth to say something, but no words come out. You close your mouth soon enough, looking every bit like a dumb little airhead.

So he continues: “You know your classmates learned all the first few chapters from high school right? You’re the only one starting fresh.” He moves closer, elbows inching closer to infiltrate your little personal-space bubble, knees knocking into yours under the desk.

More tears form under your lower lashes, and Armin mentally counts the crystal droplets. You’re recoiling into yourself like a shrinking violet which only encourages Armin to go just a little farther.

“You don’t even have your major picked out yet. This is a core class for your classmates, you know. You’re wasting your-no, everyone’s time.”

Not wanting to cry in front of your tutor, you rub your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, fully aware of how utterly pathetic you look right now.

In a small voice, you manage to utter, “I have a right...to be in this class. Even though I’m slow now, I think with some decent amount of studying...I’ll catch up. Even if I’m not-” you take a deep breath, “as quick as my classmates, I still really enjoy what I learn. And..and...I think at the end of the day, that’s what really matters!”

Armin scoffs, “Do you really like the class or are you staying for Ackerman? God knows how many fangirls he’s had to put up with.”

Even as he spoke those words, Armin knew it wasn’t entirely true. You admired the man zealously and had read all of his published papers. Honestly, your admiration had always annoyed him.

You wince at the insinuation but you could feel the anger simmering in your gut, “You have no right to imply that! Wh-why-” Your voice breaks, “are you being so mean?”

Armin thinks you’re so cute, the way you jut out your bottom lip. So cute and pathetic. The corners of his lips quirk upwards. It’s almost endearing how you say “mean” like it’s the worst thing a person can be.

“Am I being mean or am I being realistic?” The blond coos, “I’m your tutor, right? I know the best for you.”

He takes your silence as an invitation to goad you harder: “You’re only upset because I’m telling you what you don’t want to hear.”

You don’t notice the proximity until Armin lays his hand over yours, squeezing the soft flesh of your palms. His voice is gentle as he reassures you: “Hey, hey, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

He made you cry, but you don’t have it in you to pull away from the only semblance of comfort given to you. His chair scrapes the floor as he sets it right beside yours, wrapping an arm around you, encouraging you to lean your head against his shoulder.

It’s a little sad but this is probably the most physical contact you’ve gotten in a while. You’re an utter mess, and on top of all that, touch-starved.

You’re still sniffling like a crybaby, trying to sort your own emotions out. You take a few deep breaths and force yourself to face the facts:

You’re behind.

The class is too much work for you.

Armin’s right, you’re upset because he’s telling you what you don’t want to hear.

“D-do you really think I should drop the class?” Your voice is so defeated, a pinch louder than a whisper.

His long fingers play with the ends of your hair, “I know this class is really important to you and we both want you to do well...so why don’t we increase our tutoring sessions? Maybe we should meet three times a week.”

He smiles at you, and it looks so genuine. You’re immensely grateful, you are, but confusion washes over you, “Wow, Uh, that’ll be great actually but um, uni tutoring services is once a week...so-”

Armin dismisses your concerns with a gentle wave of his hands, “Don’t worry, It’ll be off the books. Think of this as private tutoring. Of course, we’ll have to start meeting in my room from now on.”

While he doesn’t elaborate on why you have to meet in his dorm, you assume Armin has a good reason and it probably involves university-sanctioned student-tutor guidelines.

You’re stammering out thank-you’s, still trying to rub the tears out of your eyes until you feel a soft handkerchief wiping them away.

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He reassures, “Don’t use your sleeve. It’s too rough for your pretty face.”

You blush under his words, wide eyes locked into his oceanic blues, “I d-don’t know if I’ll be able to compensate you f-for the private tutoring.”

His eyebrows crease as he gives you a smile full of pearly teeth, “You don’t have to worry about that for now.” His hands graze over your knuckles, “We’ll figure something out.”

“Thank you Armin.” You say it so sincerely, trying to muster the biggest smile you can after the blond essentially trampled over your self-esteem to only nurse it back with sweet promises.

“Well, we better finish today’s work then.” He responds calmly, not bothering to detangle himself from you. You can feel his body heat radiating onto you, and how his hand moved to casually rest on your thigh. But that’s normal right? If you think about it, Armin was not exactly adverse to touch. During your past tutoring sessions, his hand would always be on the small of your back or shoulders.

“Hey, you’re not getting distracted again, are you?” His voice is playful like he isn’t sliding his hand up and down the span of skin between your skirt and tights. When you don't respond, he pinches your inner thigh, eliciting a startled gasp from you.

"Focus." It's a demand so it must be followed.

Embarrassed, you nod your head and return your focus to the problem sets even though your hands are shaky as you grip the ballpoint pen.

You don’t notice how the blond’s eyes gleam under the fluorescent lighting at your easy compliance. He’s always liked obedient girls.

Your thighs are growing warmer, and it doesn’t help to have Armin peering over you. Still, you try your best to lull yourself to focus until a ringtone breaks your concentration.

Armin breaks away from you to find his phone and you find your body subconsciously missing the warmth. He lightly curses under his breath once he sees the contact name, but answers nonetheless.

“Yeah...sorry babe. I forgot. I’ll be right over.” He sounds apologetic but he looks downright bored.

And like that, the call is over. He looks over at you with an apology falling from his lips, “Sorry about that. I forgot I had something to do today. We’ll end early.”

Your throat is dry as you ask, “Was that your girlfriend?” You regretted your words the moment they escaped. That was none of your business. It doesn’t matter if he was holding you earlier. He was doing so because you were bawling like a baby. But why did he touch your thighs?

That doesn’t have to mean anything, you rationalize. Besides, Armin would never make a move on you. He was a handsome senior with a perfect GPA and a powerful position in the student government. Stupid freshman girls like you are not worth the time he so generously gives out.

The blond smirks, seeming to notice your internal struggle, “Something like that. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure she won’t distract me from our future sessions.”

That was a puzzling comment. His girlfriend supposedly distracting from your study time wasn’t even a concern you held.

“No, no, that’s ok.” You quickly assure, “You’ve already helped me out so much.”

The blond pats the top of your head like you were a puppy, “I’d do anything for my cute little student.”

The way your face heats up with a dark blush should be criminal. All he did was pat your head, and you’re looking at him starry-eyed like he didn’t grope your thighs under the table. Honestly, all your cute little blubbering had gone straight to his cock. Annie would have to handle his big problem.

These private sessions are going to be fun.

part I ---- complete

[seijorhi]

Bully ~ Part II

Oikawa Tooru x female reader (+ Iwaizumi Hajime)

TW dub/non-con, bullying, slight degradation, voyeurism, filming, implied abuse, one mention of slapping, nsfw

Part I

‘Honey, it’s your choice. Whatever you decide to do, we’ll respect.’

The final whistle sounds, the team gathering up in a huddle and with a sigh you dutifully close your books and begin to pack them away into your bag. They still have to pull down all the nets and tidy up, but that never takes too long and the sooner you’re all out of here the better.

The sooner you can get away from them, the better.

It’s become routine at this point for you to slowly make your way down to the edge of the court while they duck into the locker room; the other third years acknowledging you with friendly enough smiles, the underclassmen no longer staring at you in vague confusion. 

But at this point you’re truly beyond caring what any of them think of your relationship with their Captain. 

Except instead of filing out like the rest of his teammates, Oikawa’s still on the far side of the court, trapped in a conversation with Coach Irihata and Mizoguchi. For a split second, his attention shifts towards you, lingering awkwardly by the big double doors, and you think you catch a flicker of irritation in his eyes – which is unusual, considering that he’s made this game his life and he has nothing but the greatest respect for both of the men before him. 

But it doesn’t really matter, you suppose. You’ll wait for him, whether it’s five minutes or fifty and he’ll either tell you what’s pissing him off, or he won’t and he’ll end up using you to work out his frustrations anyway.

With your parents away for the rest of the week and your house otherwise empty, you can only pray to any god that’ll listen that he won’t try and spend the night. Not that there’s much you can do to stop him, but a girl can dream, right?

The others are heading off, Makki laughing off some biting comment from Kyoutani, but you pay them no mind. Despite being the people you now spend the majority of your time with, they’re not your friends. 

You resign yourself to trudging back up into the stands to wait for Oikawa to finish up when a hand gently wraps around your arm, spinning you around. You start, every muscle in your body tensing on instinct, but as you come face to face with familiar olive eyes you relax – it’s only Iwa.

He regards you silently for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face before he glances over your shoulder to where Oikawa’s still talking with the coaches. 

“C’mon, they’ll be a while, I think. Let me walk you home.”

His place is almost a fifteen minute walk from yours, but you don’t bother trying to bring that up. Instead, you just shrug, shifting the strap of the bag slung over your shoulder, “It’s fine. I don’t need an escort, you know, it’s not that late.”

Maybe it’d be nice for once, walking home without Oikawa’s looming presence over your shoulder. You’re almost positive that he’ll still come by afterwards, especially because he knows as well as you do that there’s nobody to interrupt tonight, but you’ll take the tiny wins when you can.

Besides, you only have to stick it out a little while longer. 

Still holding onto your arm, Iwa’s eyebrows draw together into a slight frown and he bites back a sigh, “Shittykawa’ll throw a hissy-fit if I let you walk home alone tonight. C’mon.”

He’s not asking, you realise belatedly as he firmly but gently starts to lead you out of the gym, not sparing his best friend another glance. And you could probably dig your heels in and kick up a fuss and he’d probably let you go – at least, you think he would. He would, right? He’d listen if you asked him to stop – but what’s the point?

Nobody here actually cares what you want anymore.

Iwa’s different, you suppose. You don’t really know why. He’s just as complicit as the others, maybe even more so – he at least knows what’s going on, even if he refuses to acknowledge it or do anything about it… but that’s not entirely true, is it?

He’s the one to step in when Oikawa starts to take things too far in public. He’s the one to scare off your would be bullies, snarling and glaring at them from his place at your side. Iwa’s the reason you haven’t lost it completely, the one keeping your head above water. He’s a friend you suppose, or at least the closest thing Oikawa’ll let you have anymore.

He’s certainly the only one Tooru trusts with you whenever he’s not around, hence you haven’t heard any indignant shouts from the gym following in your wake despite the grip he has on you.

And Iwa is nice, in his own way. He cares about you, you think – or he cares enough to pretend for Oikawa’s sake. Either way, at least you know he won’t try to pull you down an alleyway and force you to suck his cock, so compared to your other options, he’s definitely the lesser of two evils. 

It’s quiet as the two of you walk, and you find yourself thankful for it. Oikawa’s always talking, he never shuts up, his incessant chatter shattering every moment of quiet, peaceful solitude you try to steal for yourself. 

And tonight, tonight your head’s already too full to pretend to play along with some semblance of chipper friendliness. 

Maybe that’s why you like Iwaizumi; you don’t have to pretend with him. He knows exactly what Oikawa is, and he’s too intelligent to believe that you’re content spending every waking moment by the setter’s side, much less that you genuinely love him. 

It’s a nice night, at least – there’s barely any clouds in the sky. You can see the stars glittering in the inky, midnight blue, and it’s peaceful, you think, with Iwa strolling quietly along beside you. 

Even when the breeze starts to pick up, the late summer night air nipping at your exposed skin. Your jacket’s folded up and shoved somewhere towards the bottom of your bag, but you honestly can’t be bothered to stop and ferret for it. 

“You’re cold,” Iwa states after a beat. Again, not a question.

Nevertheless, you shake your head. “I’m fine,” you reply, perhaps a little tersely, but he’s already shrugging off his own jacket and draping it over your shoulders. Oikawa would do the same thing, more out of a perverse sense of enjoyment from seeing you wearing his clothes than a genuine sense of concern over your comfort.

Still, you don’t fight Iwa on it, pulling his jacket tighter over your body. It’s warm, his lingering body heat making your own cheeks burn a little, and it smells like him, too. Musky, yes, but there’s something almost comforting about the fresh, woodsy scent.

Silence resumes between the two of you, but you feel the weight of his stare as the two of you wander along the path. Iwaizumi’s always been perceptive, more so than most give him credit for, and it’s only another few minutes before he speaks again.

“You’re quiet tonight.”

You hum noncommittally, staring resolutely at the concrete sidewalk rather than meet his pointed gaze. 

He huffs. “You gonna tell me what’s bothering you or not?” he tries again, the sheer bluntness almost enough to make you flinch.

“And what makes you think there’s anything bothering me?” you reply dully, kicking at the small little pebble on the pathway in front of you.

Iwa stiffens just a fraction, but you feel it – the shift in the air between the two of you. It’s the truth you won’t speak, the one he won’t acknowledge. Of course there’s something bothering you; this whole fucked up situation between the three of you. It’s not normal, it’s not healthy, surely he sees that, how the hell can he–

“Cut the bullshit,” he snaps. “You think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been acting lately? Something’s up, and if you think I’m the only one who’s paying attention…” he trails off, and suddenly his hand’s catching at yours, pulling you to a stop.

And when finally you drag your eyes up to meet his, your heartbeat quickens at the scowl written across his face, plain as day. 

“I’m not talking about… that. Did he–” he hesitates, biting down on his lip and you honestly don’t know whether you want to laugh or cry. “Something’s up.”

You could probably tell him to mind his own business, and part of you almost wants to. He might even listen, though he wouldn’t be happy about it, but the thing is, you’re just so tired. Tired of playing girlfriend for Oikawa, tired of being dragged along against your will, manhandled and fucked at every opportunity, tired of pretending that this is in any way okay, and you just want to finally give in and admit it out loud.

You want this to be over, and it’s so close you can almost fucking taste it. 

So you breathe deep, forcing yourself to relax. “My mom got a job in Tokyo. My parents… they’re leaving at the end of next week. Moving. It’s why they haven't been around much lately.”

Iwaizumi’s eyebrows furrow into a frown as he takes a second to absorb the information. “And… you? We only have a few months left until we graduate.”

You allow him a wry smile. “I know. They gave me a choice, I’m eighteen, I can stay here in the house by myself, finish up the year and graduate at Aoba Johsai before moving down with them…”

“Or?” he prods.

“Or,” you continue, “or I can go now. There’s some really good schools down there, I could have my pick. It’ll be a struggle, I know, transferring so late in the term, but–”

Iwaizumi scoffs, cutting you off, “But you’re not actually gonna go, right? You can’t just pack up and leave so close to graduation. You’re staying here in Miyagi.” 

He almost sounds angry– the muscle in his jaw’s twitching and as you stare at him you realise that he doesn’t sound angry; he is angry. His whole body’s tensed like he’s preparing for a fight, and it takes you by surprise. 

Sure, he’s pretty much the only person outside of Oikawa that you’d consider yourself to have any kind of relationship with anymore, but you’d never really thought he’d actually–

“Iwa,” you say gently, “I was gonna go to Tokyo after graduation anyway. Sure, it’s not exactly an ideal situation, but…” 

But it’s your chance to get away from all of this, from Oikawa, and you’re gonna take it and run. Whether or not Tokyo University accepts you, whether it means you have to work three times as hard to adjust to a new school’s curriculum just so you won’t completely flunk your final exams. 

It can’t be any worse than this.

He has to understand that. 

And really, what did he think was going to happen after graduation? You know Oikawa’s plans, and you’ll be damned if you let him ruin your life anymore than he already has, dragging you halfway across the world. You belong here, in Japan. Oikawa can go chase his pipe dreams on his own. 

He swallows tightly, and while the pinched scowl on his face doesn’t falter, his grip on your wrist eases just a fraction. “You were really just gonna leave without telling anybody?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Who would I tell?”

—

Sure enough, it’s a little after midnight when your bedroom door sweeps open and Oikawa strides in like he owns the place. You watch through half lidded eyes as he starts to shed his clothes, stripping off and tossing them haphazardly onto the floor until he’s just in his boxers. 

He doesn’t say much as he lifts the covers and climbs into bed beside you, merely presses a surprisingly gentle kiss to your cheek, murmuring a quiet, ‘Just sleep, cutie,’ when you try to shift away from him.

He sounds tired, exhausted really, but you don’t care enough to comment, relieved more than anything that tonight he doesn’t seem to have the energy for more. There’d been some part of you that was worried that Iwa might have told him about the walk home – the secrets you’d unthinkingly entrusted to him – but he can’t have. There’s no possible way Oikawa would be so calm right now if he had. 

And Iwa wouldn’t do something like that in the first place. 

It might not have been the most traditional of friendships, and you know he’s still a little pissed off with your decision and the fact you had no intentions of telling him, but Iwa wouldn’t break your trust like that. 

And so with Oikawa’s arms wrapped around your middle, the warmth of his chest pressed up against your back, you allow sleep to claim you once more.

—

You hardly see him the following morning. 

There’s no sign of him when you wake up, though his side of the bed is still warm – you know he likes to run in the mornings; he probably ran home to shower before school. And if you’re grateful to Aoba Johsai for anything, it’s for putting the two of you in separate classes. You’re spared his presence and those of his mooney eyed fangirls, and you can actually focus on learning. Or try to, at least.

Iwa regards you with an unreadable expression when you take your usual seat at the desk next to his, but at least he doesn’t seem as pissed off as he was when he left you last night. You only have a week and a half left until you go, but considering he’s the closest thing you have to a friend anymore, you’re not sure how you would survive if he suddenly decided to give you the cold shoulder.

Still, he is quieter than usual as you both settle into class, and you can’t help your gaze from flickering over to him throughout the lesson, an uncomfortable pit settling into your stomach. Iwa doesn’t so much as look your way, busying himself in copying down the notes the teacher’s scrawling on the board.

You honestly didn’t expect him to be hurt, and as he brushes past you on his way out after the bell rings you begin to doubt whether you should have told him at all. It stings, more than you expect.

Yet the moment you try to follow him, calling out his name, a familiar figure steps in front of you, halting you in your tracks. 

“Hey, cutie,” Oikawa purrs, grinning down at you as he reaches out to tuck a stray lock of hair back behind your ear. “I’ve missed you today. Come on, let’s go somewhere a little quieter.”

His fingers are laced with yours, tugging you along before you can even try to voice a protest. You both know you wouldn’t anyway, not anymore. 

Just like you don’t speak up when instead of dragging you outside to the courtyard, or even to the gym, he chooses an empty classroom, kicking the door shut behind him. 

There’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but you don’t have a chance to voice it as he grabs you by the collar of your shirt and smashes his lips to yours. 

Oikawa usually likes to take his time, to drag out your humiliation and reluctant pleasure as he toys with you, but today he wastes no time in shoving you back up against one of the desk, his fingers already yanking down your necktie and prying your lilac shirt open – buttons scattering as it rips.

“Tooru–” you gasp, panic flaring, but his lips curl into a smirk as he forces you back into another kiss.

“Quiet now, cutie, let me take care of my pretty girl, hm?” he growls between panting breaths. “You don’t want somebody stumbling in and interrupting us, do you?”

And your chest tightens, squeezing around your lungs like a vice, your gaze flickering back to the door – shut but not locked.

“Tooru,” you whisper again in a panic, clutching at the lapels of his blazer as he draws back enough to level a gaze at your chest, bare save for the virginal white lace bra you’d unthinkingly chosen that morning. 

His grin widens, but there’s something cold and utterly unflinching in his eyes as they flicker up to meet yours. “Lean back,” he tells you.

You shake your head, “I d-don’t–”

His hands are on your shoulders, abruptly shoving you backwards. “I said,” he coos as you sprawl back onto the wooden desktop with a startled squeak, “lean back for me.”

It’s been months since you’ve fought him, but as he flips up your skirt, fingers grazing possessively along the cotton of your panties and he sighs contentedly, sheer panic floods your system, overwhelming your better judgement. Before you can stop yourself your knees come up as you desperately scramble to right yourself, to put an end to this–

The slap to your cheek isn’t all that forceful, at least not compared to what you know him to be capable of, but it still takes you by surprise, the sharp, burning sting only registering as the shock of the blow fades.

Oikawa’s no longer grinning, his face twisted into a terrifying glare as wide, teary eyes stare back up at him. “Baby, you’re really testing me right now. You want to act like a disobedient little bitch, kick up a fuss, bring everybody running so they can see what a needy little whore you are, spread out on the table for me?” He snatches at your panties, harshly wrenching them down your now prone legs with one hand, the other reaching for his belt buckle, “You think you have a choice here? You think I give a fuck what you want?”

Your ears are ringing, the sound of your own heartbeat drowning out almost everything else.

It’s not the first time he’s hit you, or even the hardest, but with that one slap all the fight you have left just dissipates. You don’t even flinch when he spits directly onto your pussy, his thumb harshly spreading his saliva over your cunt – you just bite down on your lip to stifle the sob that threatens to burst.

And victory shines bright in his eyes at the sight of it. 

“Good girl, you know who this pretty pussy belongs to, don’t you?” he croons with saccharine sweetness, even leaning over to press a tender, affectionate kiss to your swollen lips. 

And you’d squeeze your eyes shut and try to imagine that you’re somewhere else, anywhere else if you didn’t know how much he hates it when you do. So instead, you lie there pliant and trembling, humiliation burning hot as he spreads your legs, pressing your thighs back towards your chest as he slots himself in between them.

“You look so good like this, you know?” he muses with a soft little chuckle as he leisurely strokes his cock, letting the flushed tip brush teasingly along your folds, nudging at your clit. “Prettiest little thing, and all mine, aren’t you, cutie.”

Tears well and spill soundlessly down your cheek, but your only answering is the hiccuping breath you draw in, your fingers finding purchase on the edges of the desk as he guides it back to your entrance.

It doesn’t matter that you’re not nearly ready for him, that his spit and the pre-cum that’s beading at his slit isn’t going to help ease his passage in the slightest. He’ll fuck you how he wants to – and you’re too broken to try and stop him.

Yet instead of savagely plunging in like you expect him to, Oikawa stills, regarding you with a tilted head and a cruel smirk. 

“Fuck,” he curses quietly, the sound almost reverent as he stares down at you. He shakes his head, another soft laugh bubbling out, “I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of seeing you like this, but if you’re going to be running off on me so soon, maybe I should take a little memento, what do you think cutie?”

Your stomach drops, dread creeping down your spine as Oikawa reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, opening up the camera and flicking it across to video. 

“I mean if this is going to be our last time together, don’t you think we should make it special?” You jerk, your breath coming out in short, harsh pants but you can’t move, can’t seem to lift a single finger as he leans in closer, bringing his lips to your ear, “That way we both have something to remember this by.”

And as his breath ghosts the tiny hairs on the shell of your ear he laughs again, pressing another quick kiss to your flushed, tear stained cheek. “Aw, don’t cry, cutie. You brought this on yourself.”

You don’t have a moment to prepare yourself, his hand slamming over your lips to muffle your shrieks as he thrusts his hips forward, sheathing himself in your tight little cunt with a choked moan.

“F-fuck, baby,” he grits out, biting down on his own lip as he relishes the vice like grip your pussy has on his throbbing cock, “Smile for the camera.”

Your back arcs up off the table, fingernails digging into the wood as he draws his hips back slowly, letting you feel every inch of his cock as it drags along your walls until it’s only the tip that remains inside of you.

It hurts, it hurts, it hurts – a sharp and throbbing pain that only grows with each passing second. 

There’s something sadistic in his grin as he angles the phone down to where your bodies meet, your lewdly spread thighs, your glistening pussy in perfect view as another glob of saliva joins the first, pooling over your sex, sliding down his cock.

“You have no idea how perfect your pussy feels, baby,” he pants, slowly filling you up once more – your own wails stifled by his hand. “You’re mine, all fucking mine, aren’t you?”

There’s no hiding from the camera as he fucks you, slowly at first, but picking up his pace as the slick starts to build, your warm, velvety walls sucking him in deeper, squelching obscenely with every thrust. And between the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass – skin hitting skin as he fucks you roughly without care – and Tooru’s own satisfied moans, your muffled whimpers and cries go unheard. 

And just when you think your humiliation is complete, he takes his hand from your mouth, his thumb returning to your clit, teasing at the sensitive nub with slow, measured circles that have you keening, shaking beneath him as he stuffs you full. Slowly but surely that searing ache gives way to pleasure, a slight shift of his hips and his cock’s hitting that sweet spot he’s all too familiar with – and another strangled moan slips out.

“You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?”

You shake your head, fingernails digging into the wood, biting down harshly to keep yourself quiet as you feel that familiar heat pooling in your core, wanton pleasure flickering through you with every swipe of his fingers, every harsh thrust.

“No? You sure about that?” he laughs at the desperate whine that slips from your lips, “I wanna hear it, baby. Cum for me.”

But you can’t, you can’t make a sound, the door’s not locked, the door’s not locked and anybody could walk in any second, but you can feel it coming, your legs shaking and toes curling as your control slips–

“Cum,” Oikawa demands, his own voice a husky, shivering growl, and this time you’re helpless but to obey.

Your orgasm crashes into you like a wave, suddenly sweeping your legs out from under you. You arc up off the table once more, white hot pleasure exploding as you shiver and quake, your pussy clamping down on his cock and gushing as he fucks you relentlessly through it, chasing his end while drawing out your own.

And you’re so lost in the bliss, the pleasurable rippling aftershocks short circuiting your system that you don’t even realise that he’s pulled himself out of your cunt, stroking his slicked up cock with harsh pants–

Not until you feel the hot spurts of his cum hitting your stomach, a choked moan resembling your name shattering the fuzzy afterglow, dragging you harshly back down to reality.

There’s a twisted, self satisfied smirk on his face as he watches the cold realisation sink in, your eyes filling with fresh tears as your gaze flickers between him and the phone in his hand, still filming.

“You’re not leaving me,” he says, still a little breathless. “You’re mine. Isn’t that right, Iwa?”

No.

Please god, no.

Blood drains from your face, the pit in your stomach plummeting as his smirk widens and he turns his head to glance over his shoulder. You don’t want to look, can’t bear to, but it’s like trying to rip your eyes away from a car crash; your body moves with a will of its own. Heart pounding, nausea churning in your gut, you follow his gaze to find Iwaizumi by the door; jaw tight, arms folded across his chest, staring impassively back at you.

And that last little piece of you breaks.

[inkykeiji]

i can take you there but baby you won’t make it back

character: dabi | todoroki touya

notes: stepcest (kind of—ur parents aren’t married yet) with dabi-as-touya x a very naïve and inexperienced reader, normal!AU (no quirks, dabi also has tattoos over his scarred + fully healed skin), university!reader, implied yakuza!dabi, excessive use of the words niichan and good, praise kink, fingering, face fucking, title credit = save that shit by lil peep lmao  uhhhh yeah i hc dabi as a very intelligent and perceptive individual soooo i feel like he’d be a master at reading a person & their emotions and then adapting his manipulation techniques

warnings: 18+, pseudo-incest (stepcest), noncon/dubcon, slight somnophilia, emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, size difference, slight degradation, mentions of drug use

words: 7.1k

part 2.1 | part 2.2

synopsis:

“You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, when you lay awake in your bed, you’ll feel ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

        ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          ✰          

Your dad’s been dating Rei for a while—nearly a year, now—when things begin to get serious, and he proposes to her.

She accepts, so it’s not exactly a surprise when she suggests you guys move in with her—she’s got more than enough space, she tells you, it’s just her and her son in that big old house—and your dad seems pretty thrilled about it. This was the next step before marriage, after all.

You like Rei well enough, she’s always been nothing but sweet to you, and anyway, your father’s relationship really isn’t any of your business or concern.

It isn’t that you don’t want to move in with her—her house is in a better part of the neighborhood, a standard detached upper-middle class home, and just a short walk from a bus stop that’ll take you directly to university, which you start in a week.

It’s just…You’re a little apprehensive.

You know she has kids. She mentions them in passing every once in a while, but you can’t for the life of you remember their names, or their ages, or how many of them there are. You know they don’t all live with her, that her relationship with her ex-husband is complicated and rocky at best.

But you’re still surprised to hear that only one of them, her eldest, lives with her. She tells you he’s five years older than you are, that he’s a clever, smart boy, going off on a tangent about how disappointed she is that he didn’t go to university, because ‘he would’ve done so well—he could’ve shone so brightly.’ Something about the way she says that, the way her voice sounds almost sad, makes anxiety turn to lead in your stomach. She talks about him as if he’s already a lost cause, but he’s only in his mid-twenties, isn’t he?

You understand the moment you see him. The man standing in front of you as you shift from foot to foot unsurely in the foyer of this unfamiliar house is about as far from what you anticipated as he could possibly be.

He’s tall, skin pale as moonlight, with jet black hair and the most stunning blue eyes you’ve ever seen. But that isn’t what captivates you. It isn’t the lip ring curled around his bottom lip snuggly, and it isn’t the tongue piercing you’re about to find out he’s hiding in his mouth, either.

Every inch of the exposed skin of his arms is covered in intricate, seamlessly flowing tattoos—or, for a moment, you thought it was tattoos, plural. Upon closer inspection, you realize that each arm is actually covered in one giant tattoo, giving a new definition to the term ‘sleeve’. It’s all black ink, not a splash of colour anywhere, depicting an extremely detailed and anatomically correct mechanical arm, complete with what would’ve been joints, ligaments and bones in the form of wires and steel.

The tattoos extend onto the tops of his hands, made to look as if surgical staples are peeling his skin back to reveal the robot beneath. This same tattoo continues up his neck, along his jaw and onto his cheeks, all the way to his bottom lip, spreading across his entire face and disappearing into his hairline and onto his ears. Finally, there’s a small portion of the tattoo underneath his eyes, the surgical staples lining the edges of the face tattoos, too.

It startles you—you’re not necessarily scared, you just…weren’t expecting that. But there’s no denying the rush of breath that involuntarily escapes your lips as your eyes search his face, raking over his body in a brazen way that should make you feel shameful, travelling back up to find him smirking smugly at you, raising an eyebrow as your eyes meet again.

The look in his eyes tells you he knows, knows what you’re thinking about, knows how undeniably attracted you are to him, and scalding heat floods your cheeks.

He chuckles a little, which does nothing but add insult to injury, and sharp anger slices through your chest at the way that you stomach absolutely drops at his gravelly voice. You can’t believe yourself, can’t believe your body is reacting and responding so readily to this man—this stranger.

He introduces himself as Touya, in that rough, deep voice that forces a jolt of electricity to run through your veins. You idly wonder what your name would sound like on his tongue, how it might sound if his voice dropped to a growl, find yourself stuck thinking about this for the rest of the night.

✰          ✰          ✰          

To your disappointment, and as much as you are unabashedly interested in him, you don’t interact much with Touya for your first few weeks in the house—in fact, you barely see him at all.

This only piques your curiosity about him more, finding that you’re unable to tear your eyes from him on the rare occasion that you are in a room together. He catches you staring every single time, and he has the audacity to chuckle to himself and shake his head when his gaze meets yours, your eyes quickly darting away and cheeks burning at his laugh.

You begin gathering little tidbits of information about him, purely sourced from interactions you witness in the house, desperately praying for something that’ll give you an opportunity to start a conversation with him.

Your efforts prove fruitless when, almost a month and a half since you moved in, you’ve still only spoken a handful of words to him. You do learn a bit about him through observing, though.

You discover that he’s a smoker, which really doesn’t come as a shock at all. Marlboro’s are his favourite, and he’s always got a pack in his back pocket or rolled up in the short sleeve of his t-shirt. He must have them imported—Marlboro’s are incredibly rare to find all the way in Japan.

Touya must have a lot of things imported.

You find out that every other Thursday, Touya discreetly stuffs an absurdly large wad of cash—all composed of ten-thousand-yen bills—into his mom’s hands, forcing her fingers to curl around it. She fights him on it, every time, but he’s firm and adamant that she take it. It always ends with Rei giving him a small, watery smile, Touya pressing a kiss against the side of her head and murmuring that he loves her.

After you witness this interaction for the first time, you begin to notice that, while the house looks relatively normal on the outside, it is stuffed full of luxury on the inside. Flat-screen TVs each complete with full entertainment systems, state of the art appliances that are somehow up to date with all of the latest trends (including a smart fridge—absolutely ridiculous), custom made furniture, ornate rugs, a housekeeper that drops by every Sunday…

You have no idea what he does for work, but you think you’ve got at least some sort of idea when you catch him one night, just past 2AM, exiting his room and using a thumb to brush excess white powder off his nose. His eyes catch yours, pupils blown and shining in the low light, and he smiles darkly at you, winking once as he walks away.

You don’t ask—no one ever does.

You don’t ask about the crimson splattered on the toe of his boot, or why he sometimes smells metallic, like copper, the strong scent wafting after him and invading the halls as he stalks leisurely toward the bathroom. You don’t ask why he leaves the house at odd hours in the night, and you definitely don’t ask about the soft clinking and clicking you hear through the thin walls every so often while he cleans his gun at 3AM.

You’re not sure if it’s really any of your business, anyway. So you stay quiet, and continue to wait.

The opportunity finally comes one Wednesday in October, two weeks before Halloween, when you’re in the kitchen after school busy fixing yourself an afternoon snack. Touya comes home uncharacteristically early—you rarely see him before 10PM, so his entrance scares you, and you jump a little.

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he passes by behind you, just an inch too close, just enough so you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“It’s fine,” you say quietly, shaking your head a little and trying in vain to stop your hands from trembling as you spread peanut butter across a piece of bread.

You can feel his eyes on you, and it makes you nervous, makes your skin crawl in a way you’ve never felt before. He laughs a little at your struggling, leaning against the counter next to you and crossing his arms over his chest.

“You don’t have to be so nervous around me, y’know,” he says with a smirk, eyes glittering at the way your lips part in surprise, your breath stuttering a little. “I’m your niichan after all, aren’t I?”

You hadn’t even considered using the honorific until he himself uses it.

Your hands freeze, hovering over your plate, and you look over at him slowly. “You…Want me to call you that?”

“You can, if you’d like,” he says smoothly, nonchalantly, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It makes no difference to him, he tells you, but when he finally looks back at you, you think you can see it in his eyes—a sharp, small glimmer of…of something. Something that makes your stomach twist in a way you can’t decide if you like or not.

But this is it, you think, this is your opening to finally begin talking to him.

So you do. And the smirk he gives you the first time you address him by the honorific, voice quivering slightly as you ask him where Rei normally keeps the blender, is nothing short of predatory.

“It’s on the top shelf. It’s too high for you, though,” he says, voice so sickly sweet it almost sounds mocking. “Let niichan get it for you,”

It isn’t, but you let him get it for you anyway.

And he knows—knows he’s got you the moment you gasp at the honorific leaving his lips, trying to hide it behind your hand, nodding quickly and squeaking out a thank you.

It starts after that. He begins playing with you; a sick, perverse game of cat and mouse, hunter and hunted, and you play your part perfectly.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it, if you said it didn’t send wicked sparks of excitement shooting up your spine and an intense fluttering in your stomach.

And it starts slow. It starts with gentle pet names—honey, sweetheart, princess—and fingertips trailing down your arm as he passes you. It starts with a large hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you—out of the house and into his car, out of the kitchen and into the living room, out of the hallway and into his bedroom—and with little pecks on your lips stolen when no one’s watching, quick kisses that leave you feeling exhilarated despite their chastity.

Suddenly, he’s home a hell of a lot more. He’s sitting too close to you on the couch while you curl up with a textbook, his thigh pressed against you and flesh burning hot through his black jeans. He’s joining the family dinner a few times a week, idly hooking and unhooking his ankle with yours beneath the table while smirking at you from across it.

Suddenly, he’s asking you if you need a ride to school, or if you need someone to pick you up. You don’t, you tell him, the bus is just fine, but he insists. It’s what niichans do, he says. He wants to take care of you, he says.

Who are you to deny him that, really?

✰          ✰          ✰          

The first time you experience Touya angry is about a month after the inciting incident, when he catches you walking home with a few of your university friends.

He had texted you earlier that day, telling you that he—very regretfully, he said—would be unable to pick you up from school this afternoon because ‘something had come up’.

You didn’t question what it was—you knew he’d lie even if you did. So you accepted it obediently, reassured him that it was fine, that you’d find another way home.

You’re pretty sure if you had told him that you didn’t have any extra change on you for the bus suddenly whatever important thing that had ‘come up’ which so desperately needed his attention wouldn’t be so urgent anymore. But you didn’t want to be a bother, or inconvenience him, so you say nothing.

Two friends decide they’ll accompany you on your walk home, so you aren’t lonely, they claim. Normally, the walk from campus to your house is about thirty minutes, but that day it takes you nearly an hour, wasting time goofing around and walking slowly as you talk idly.

Touya’s already pissed that it’s taken you so long to arrive home, that you’ve ignored all of his extremely considerate texts asking if you’re alright, but when he sees you squished between two boys, giggling as the three of you stumble up your driveway—he’s fucking fuming.

“Where the fuck have you been?” he asks, voice calm and monotonous, leaning casually against the doorframe.

Your head snaps up—you swear he wasn’t there just a second ago—blood running cold.

His stance is relaxed, arms crossed loosely over his chest, lazily raising an eyebrow as your wide eyes meet his. Technically, the only indication that he’s furious is the blazing blue fire in his eyes, but your friends can read the tension in the air surrounding him, shuffling a little closer to you. This minuscule action does not go unnoticed by Touya, sharp jaw clenching once.

“You had niichan worried,”

You’re frozen a few feet away from the porch, unable to find your voice, to move your legs, to breathe at all.

“I didn’t know you had an older brother,”

Your eyes do not leave Touya’s as you speak, the words hoarse. “Oh, we’re—”

“Yeah,” Touya bites, irritation finally bleeding into his voice. “She does,” his eyes float back to yours. “Come here, princess,”

Your body snaps into action, moving automatically before you can even comprehend it, allowing Touya to tuck you into his side the moment you reach him.

Your hands are shaking, but you have no control over them as your fingers curl in his white t-shirt, clinging to him. To your surprise, the arm around your shoulders hugs you closer in response, thumb caressing you.

“Thanks for making sure she got home safely,” he tosses over his shoulder, managing to make the simple sentence sound like an insult, tone bordering on patronizing, while he turns on his heel, marching you both inside.

“I-I’m so sorry,” you’re rushing to say the moment the front door shuts behind you two, Touya’s arm still wrapped firmly around you.

He looks down at you coldly. “Don’t you dare pull shit like that again,” he tells you, eerily calm voice forcing spikes of icy dread up your spine. He pauses for a moment, letting his words sink in as his eyes bore into yours. “You had me worried sick,” he breathes out then, squeezing you again. You’re surprised in the sudden change of tone, feeling your chest swell at the thought of him fretting over you, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I…I did?”

Touya’s eyebrows furrow, as if he’s offended at your questioning, mood morphing in the span of a second. “Of course you fucking did,” he spits like you’re stupid, arm dropping. “Do you ever check your phone?”

“Wh-What?”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Check your phone,” he calls out airily as he begins walking into the kitchen, shaking his head a little, disappointment rolling off him in waves.

Hastily fishing your phone out of your bag, you’re astonished to see eight texts from him and three missed calls. You scroll through the texts quickly, each one making you feel more nauseous than the next. ‘Is everything okay? You should’ve been home by now’; ‘Please answer me, princess, you’re making your niichan nervous’; ‘Where are you? Answer my fucking calls already’. Guilt turns sour in your mouth and you hurry after him.

“I-I really am s-so sorry,” you force the words out, unsure as to why there are suddenly tears stinging your eyes. He isn’t even doing anything—his back is facing you as he nonchalantly begins brewing a pot of coffee.

But the thought of him being upset with you, of losing his approval, sends a sharp pain searing through your chest.

“Are you?” he asks, and although his voice holds no malice in it, it causes your whole body to stutter with a harsh breath.

“Yes,” you whimper out, latching onto his arm and tugging in an attempt to draw his eyes to yours, to see how regretful you are, the remorse written across your face. “I should’ve…That was so careless and inconsiderate of me,”

“It was,” he agrees simply, voice still light, as if he’s discussing something as mundane as the weather. ��But you’ll never do it again, right?”

“Right,” you agree readily, breathing out the word before you even realize what you’re agreeing to.

“Tell niichan you’ll never worry him like that again,” he finally looks over at you.

“I-I’ll never worry you like that again, niichan, I pr-promise,”

His eyes hold yours for what feels like eons, before he finally twists his arm out of your grasp, instead wrapping it around you and tugging you against his body. You stay staring up at him, eyes wide and obedient, breath bated as you wait for your next order, so pliant and ready to serve him.

“Good,” he whispers, eyes finally softening, and you feel like you can breathe properly again. His free hand cups your face, thumb running along your lips, then your chin, then your jaw. “You want to be good for me, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“Of course,” you respond instantly. Later, you’ll lay awake in your bed, feeling ashamed by your actions, by how readily captivated you were with him, by how easily he was able to manipulate you with those sapphire eyes and that rough voice—

But in that moment, you’ll do anything to pull that little smile from him, anything to hear him tell you you’re good. You just want to be good.

Something dark and primal flashes in those gorgeous eyes as they gaze down at you, a small grin spreading across his face. “Of course,” he repeats softly.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He begins to trust you more. You meet his friends, each one terrifying in their own right. Jin is alright, although his brain is fried from drugs, and he talks to and contradicts himself a lot, earning the nickname Twice from Tomura.

Tomura horrifies you to your very core—a tall, lanky man with sunken red eyes and sickly pale skin who looks like he’s one bad day away from death—and Touya tells you very sternly to stay away from him.

A university student not unlike yourself, Keigo is your favourite. Keigo is the most normal, with his wild blonde hair and enticing gold eyes that always look like they’re playfully holding the secrets of the universe just out of your grasp.

Keigo’s brain is always going a hundred miles a minute, although you’d never guess it with his trademark lazy drawl, speaking as if he hasn’t got a care in the world. But he can always keep a conversation going, knows exactly what to say to avoid awkward silences or lulls in the discussion, and you appreciate that. You think he’s so cool—he has so much knowledge about the oddest things, everything and anything, ‘a walking encyclopedia’, Tomura calls it, and it fascinates you to no end.

It’s the speed, Touya tells you one night while you’re laying on the couch, your body on top of his, the pads of his fingers dragging down your back in rhythmic strokes. Speed is Keigo’s drug of choice, you find out. Speed is the reason why Keigo knows as much as he does.

“Sometimes he doesn’t sleep for days,” Touya says. “That’s how he has all the time to memorize everything he knows—though that big overactive brain of his plays a part in it, too,”

The thought inexplicably makes your heart sink in your chest, and you don’t say anything else. If Touya notices your shift in mood, he doesn’t mention it. You idly wonder what Touya’s drug of choice is, but you’re too scared of the answer to ask.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

It’s only a few nights later when you wake with a violent jolt, breathing laboured as you absentmindedly press your palm to your chest, trying in vain to calm your racing heart.

A nightmare.

You sit in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of your own harsh breaths echoing off the walls and debating what to do next. A minute later, you swing your legs over the side of the bed, wincing when your bare feet touch the cold hardwood, and pad down the hallway.

You try to trick yourself into believing that you aren’t using this purely as an excuse to spend the night with him. It really was so scary, you reason with yourself, it really has made you all shaken up…

Who are you kidding? You didn’t even attempt to go back to sleep.

You’ve been in his room plenty of times now—sitting daintily on his bed as he introduces you to new music, new movies, new books. Stuff that reminds him of you, he says, stuff that he thought you might be interested in. You’re grateful for it; there are so many things you’ve learned in the short time you’ve known him.

That isn’t all, though. There’s no denying the warmth that spreads through your body, that tiny excited flutter in your chest, when he calls your name and interlaces your fingers, leading you toward his room and telling you he’s got something to show you.

Yes, you’ve been in his room plenty of times now. But this is the first time you spend the night in his bed.

He’s still up, soft golden light leaking from under his closed bedroom door. Your hand quivers a little as you lift it to rap your knuckles against the wood. He appears in the doorway a moment later, leaning against the frame in a black t-shirt that looks like it’s a size or two too small for him, riding up to reveal a teasing sliver of milky skin, tips of his hipbones jutting out from the waistband of his plaid pajama pants.

“Princess? What is it?”

You didn’t realize you were staring, and you jump a little at his gravelly voice.

“Oh. I, um—Well, I just…had a nightmare a-and I can’t sleep,”

You can barely look him in the eyes as you say it, your cheeks burning. You both know it’s a lie.

But he plays along.

“Aw, baby,” he coos, drawing you into his arms, into his room, into his bed.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs as he turns on his side to face you, propping his head up with a hand. “Poor thing. Was it a bad one?”

Your mouth feels like its been stuffed with cotton, rendering you incapable of speech, tongue dry and sluggish. You nod in response, heat seeping into your cheeks again at just how loudly your heart is thumping while you roll onto your side. There’s only a few inches of space between your bodies now, his hot breath fanning across your face as he speaks again.

“Do you want niichan to help you forget about it?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, and you suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes searching his. Your thighs squeeze together at the way his voice has dropped an octave, low and husky, familiar heat pooling in the depths of your belly. He waits patiently, lifting a hand to caress your cheek, then runs his fingertips down your bare arm, goosebumps following.

Finally, you nod. You think you see the corners of his lips quirk up into the slightest hint of a smirk, but you blink, and it’s gone.

“Here,” he whispers, hooking an arm around your waist and pulling you against him. Hand cupping your jaw, he tilts your face up and slots his mouth against yours.

You’ve kissed before, of course—in his bed, in yours, on the living room couch, on the kitchen counter with his hips shoved between your thighs—but this…this feels different.

These are kisses with intent, with purpose, with a goal in mind. These are kisses that keep you distracted—slow, soft, messy with saliva—as his hand slips down your body and between your thighs.

Your gasp breaks the kiss, wide eyes blinking up at him then fluttering shut as he brushes a knuckle against your clit. He hushes you, nimble fingers spreading your folds before he drags them up your slit, huffing out a laugh at how wet you already are.

“Were you thinking about something naughty before?” he gasps mockingly, sliding the pads of his fingers back down as he speaks.

His hand withdraws from your shorts and he orders you to lift your hips, tugging the waistband down your thighs. You squirm a little, forcing them further down your legs until you free yourself of them completely, eyes gazing up at him again, awaiting your next command.

Legs part dutifully as his hand travels back down to the apex of your thighs, pushing a finger into your soaking pussy.

It’s slow at first, thrusting leisurely with his middle finger a few times and loosening you up a little before adding his ring finger. Sapphire eyes watch his motions, captivated by how your eager little cunt sucks his fingers in selfishly.

“Look at that, huh?” he breathes, looking down at you. “Such a pretty little pussy you’ve got,”

You open your bleary eyes to peer at yourself, mesmerized by the way his fingers are pumping in and out of you, glistening in the dim light of his bedroom. He curls his fingers and you inhale sharply, hips twitching toward his palm.

“Oh?” he chuckles darkly, knuckles nudging the spot again. “Did niichan find something, baby?”

You don’t know, you’re not sure, you try to tell him, but all you can seem to manage is pathetic little whines while you nod your head.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he’s asking as the pads of his fingers tap against that spot, your entire body jolting.

“Y-Yes,” you whimper out, a little breathlessly. “But it’s never felt like this,”

“Aw, baby,” he coos, and it’s so condescending. “Then you weren’t doing it right, sweetheart,”

He quickens his pace, chuckles at the way you try to desperately fuck yourself on his fingers at such an awkward angle.

“Poor little thing, can’t even get herself off properly,” he tsks. “You need your niichan to do it for you, don’t you?”

Soft whines spill from your throat as you nod eagerly, your stomach coiling tightly.

“One day,” he breathes, curling his fingers with a vengeance this time, your hips rolling up off the mattress. “When we have the time, I’ll teach you how to make yourself feel so good,”  

He’s talking too much. You want to tell him this, tell him to shut the hell up, but every time you try to speak he presses the heel of his palm to your clit and grinds against it, effectively scattering all of your thoughts, soft mewls of niichan the only sound escaping your lips.

Can’t deny his voice is fucking hot though, a form of foreplay all on its own.

And he knows this, can read you like a goddamn book, especially when he’s got his fingers two knuckles deep inside of you. He can feel it, he tells you. You don’t even need to speak; he can feel your thoughts when his voice drops an octave and your cute little hole flutters, when he chuckles and your pussy clenches around his fingers—a slut for his voice, aren’t you?

“Pretty baby, you can’t do anything but nod dumbly, can you? Been fucked stupid by my fingers alone, huh?”

Your head barely moves, lost all control of your body by this point, only able to whimper in response.

“Gonna come all over my fingers, pretty girl?” the knuckle of his thumb begins grazing your clit in quick strokes. “C’mon, make a mess for niichan,”

And it’s pathetic, how quickly your body obeys. Your pussy squeezes once, twice, three times and you’re gushing all over his fingers, juices collecting in his palm, running down his wrist. You’re embarrassed—you’ve never cum that much before, have you?

Breathing still ragged, you nuzzle into his sheets, partially hiding your face from him. Nothing could hide the involuntary grin that forms on your lips, though. Arms snake under your boneless body, tugging a bit.

“Oh no, baby, we aren’t done yet,” Touya’s saying while he hoists you up, letting you lean heavily against him.

Head tilting in confusion, your glazed eyes find his. “Wh-What?”

He looks down at his lap and your gaze follows, a tiny whimper slipping past your lips at the bulge straining against his pants. “Doesn’t niichan deserve a nice reward for helping you forget that scary dream?”

Eyes darting back to his, you nod slowly, whispering out, “Yes. But—But…” But you’re hesitant; you’ve never done anything like this before. Shaking hands reach for the waistband of his pants, beginning to pull them down but freezing when the head of his cock peeks out.

Touya sighs. “Come on, you wanna be a good girl for niichan, don’t you?”

Of course. Of courses you do.

Then he wants you to touch him, he says. He’ll help you; he promises.

“But you gotta get it wet first,”

You ask how, and he laughs at you. “With your tongue, stupid,” he tells you.

He instructs you to kneel on the floor and you comply immediately, trembling legs folding beneath your body as you situate yourself between his knees. He inches forward on the bed a little, shuffling himself to the edge and caging you between his thighs. Bringing his cock close to your mouth, he taps the head against your closed lips.

They part instantly, obediently, his eyes flashing with something sinister as you take the head into your mouth and suck hesitantly, big eyes staring up at him waiting for approval.

He curses, his hips twitching ever so slightly, skin stretched taut over bony knuckles as a hand forms a fist in the sheets. Starting with kitten licks at first, the tip of your tongue barely touches him, tracing veins, then begins to gain more confidence as he groans a little, telling you what to you, that you’re doing good, so good for him.

Watching him through thick lashes, you have the audacity to look bashful as your tongue laves around the shaft, drenching it in saliva. A hand tangles in your hair and yanks, pulling you off his cock when he decides it’s sufficiently wet enough. Long fingers encircle your wrist, bringing your hand to form a fist around him.

“Like this,” he says, jerking your hand up and down.

You’re terrible at it, movements awkward and uncoordinated, but in that moment he doesn’t really care. He’s irritated a little, wondering out loud how anyone can be bad at handjobs while a large hand wraps around yours and forces you to speed up. Bad? Your heart sinks at the small three letter word, a hard lump forming in your throat, looking as though you may start crying.

But he cums quickly after that, ropes of searing hot white painting your cheeks and face. You watch him the entire time, panting a little, lips parted slightly and your tongue darts out to lick them, tasting him.

He laughs at your bitter reaction, and it’s such a patronizing sound.

“Don’t worry,” he says, collecting the cum off your face and forcing his fingers into your mouth. “Someday I’ll stuff your throat full of it.”

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

You can no longer mention needing—no, wanting—anything around him anymore, because within the next few days it’s sitting pretty and perfect on your bed, propped up against your lace trimmed pillows.

He’s so good to you; you should be grateful you have such a generous niichan, one who eats you out and spoils you with gifts. You’re so spoiled.

And he tells you this, in the dead of night when you wake to find him shoving his cock into you, snarling a little at your soft whines of protest.

“Don’t be a brat,” he warns. Just be a good girl and take his cock. He does so much for you, can’t you be good for him?

Yes, yes, you want to be good for him, you want to be the best for him.

By this point you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night with his head between your thighs, prepping you to take him.

“Stay sleeping, baby,” he’ll tell you, words whispered into your hair as his cockhead nudges against your hole.

As if you could ever stay sleeping when only a few minutes later he’s pounding you into oblivion, large hand clasped over your mouth so tightly his blunt nails are digging into your cheek, so hard that it’s yanking your head back, neck beginning to ache.

He tells you to be quiet, “You don’t want anyone to hear, do you? Then we’d have to stop, and you don’t want that, right, sweetheart?”

You don’t, you whimper. Of course you don’t—you want whatever he wants, you want to be his perfect little baby, you want to be told how good you take his cock, the praise mumbled against your skin in a low, strained voice right before he fills you with cum.

  ✰          ✰          ✰          

He disappears for a few days near the end of December. You have no idea where, Touya answering your curious texts with playful quips at first before he grows tired of it and tells you to stop fucking asking.

But eventually, he returns.

The front door slams shut and your body flinches with a jolt of excitement. Adrenaline spikes your blood when you hear his heavy boots colliding with the hardwood, getting louder, louder, louder…

He passes right by you, not glancing at you at all. Moments later, the sound of water hitting the tiled shower wall echoes down the hallway.

And you wait. Patiently, you wait, like the good little girl you are, not daring to move a muscle. Eventually he re-emerges, hair still damp, a few strands sticking to his neck.

With a groan, he collapses on the couch next to you, flopping his head into your lap and gazing up at you with glazed, blown sapphire eyes.

“You’re high,” you say softly, not accusatory, just an observation. He giggles a little.

“So what if I am?”

“What did you take?”

“Oh,” he gasps mockingly. “Oh no, baby, I can’t tell you that,”

Why? The question is burning on the tip of your tongue, and you can tell that he’s anticipating that to be your next response, but you bite down on your bottom lip, holding it in. You know his answer already, can practically hear his patronizing voice—Because good baby sisters aren’t supposed to know about stuff like this.

“Can I try some?” you ask instead.

All of the mirth fades from his eyes in an instant, and he moves in a flash despite his inebriated state, so quick you can barely tell what’s happening. His large hand wraps around your bicep in a bruising grasp, pulling you towards him as he sits up, his face an inch away from yours.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he spits, cobalt eyes blazing and voice rumbling against your chest. “And if I so much as catch wind that you’re using, have a mere feeling that you’ve tried it��even just once—I’ll slaughter you and the fucker you got it from. Do you understand me?”

Surprised tears spring into your eyes and you nod jerkily, body beginning to tremble as your breath gets caught in your throat. You want to tell him that you didn’t mean it, honest, you promise!; that you were just kidding around, you swear!, but you can’t, voice mangling itself with the hitched little breaths on the back of your tongue.

He growls at your silence, his grip around your arm tightening and you cry out, terrified that he might actually crush the bone with his bare hand.

“Say, yes Touya, I understand,”

“Y-Yes Touya, I understand,” you manage to stutter out, voice returning only at the command of a direct order, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks in pairs. His eyes search your face for a moment, his features contorted in fury, before he sneers at you, squeezing your arm once then roughly letting go, shoving you away from him.

You fall backward against the arm of the couch, heart thumping so vigorously you’re sure he can hear it. He groans, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, exasperated.

“Fuck,” he sighs, eyes opening to glare at the ceiling. “You’ve ruined my high,”

You stare at him, breath coming out in uneven huffs, clinging to the couch.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, terrified to move lest you upset him more.

He’s silent for a moment, still staring up, until he lolls his head to the side, glancing at you through the corner of his eye. A small smirk spreads across his face.

“C’mere,” he says, nodding his head a little in indication.

“Wh-What?”

“C’mere,” he repeats. “Come make it up to me,”

Your body’s moving before you’ve given it permission to, crawling into his lap obediently, thighs on either side of his hips. His smirk widens, and you love it—you love how much control he has over you without even trying, you love the way a quiet whimper slips through your lips as his large hands begin kneading your flesh, running up your legs and grabbing your ass.

Lips trail up the column of your neck, and you tilt your head back, a silent plea for more. You can feel the way his lips curl into a grin against your skin, nipping at it a second later.

“So, how you gonna make it up to me? Huh?” he shifts his hips under you, pressing his hard cock into your clothed core. You whine a little, grinding against him.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” you breathe out while sharp teeth mar your collarbone.

“The hell you waiting for? Show me,”

You begin sliding down his body and he pushes on your shoulders, forcing you to your knees between his spread thighs. He watches you through half-lidded eyes, gaping pupils outlined by a thin ring of blue.

Holding his gaze, you lean forward with your pretty little tongue hanging out and begin licking along the straining bulge, tracing it slowly, the denim rough against your sensitive muscle. You relent though, lapping at his clothed cock in slow, long strokes, and his jeans are just thin enough for you to feel him pulse in response.

A giggle bubbles up past your lips, muffled by the denim, already beginning to feel heady as you pull simple reactions from him. Your mouth forms a cute little ‘o’ and you suck on him the best you can through his jeans, drooling all over his lap and soaking through the material.

The hand in your hair tightens into a fist, yanking hard and pulling your mouth away. “Stop fucking teasing,” he warns, a hint of something ominous in his voice.

You obey, because you always obey, tiny fingers working to quickly unbuckle his belt, pop the button, yank down the zipper. He aids you, lifting his hips and allowing you to tug his jeans down his thighs enough for his cock to spring out.

His own hand wraps around the shaft, you pausing mid-action as you reach for it.

“Open,” he demands, your dutiful lips parting immediately, letting him push his cock into the warm, wet cavern.

He sets a brutal, punishing pace from the start, refusing to give you a single moment to adjust. His other hand fists in your hair, forcing you to stay still as he rams his cock down your throat.

Reflexive tears burn your eyes, blurring your vision. You blink quickly to clear them, desperate to watch him, to catalogue all of his micro-expressions and the sound of his voice as he grunts out your name, to burn it into your mind, etch it into your very soul.

Touya’s head falls back against the couch, Adams apple bobbling with his rough whimpers, long neck and sharp collarbone on full display. If your mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, you’d love to lick up his smooth skin, to trace the dips of his collarbone with your tongue and sign your name in brilliant splotches of blue and purple.

You’re gagging around his cock now, starting to feel lightheaded and struggling to inhale enough oxygen. The ache in your jaw is beginning to spread, but you ignore it, stretching your mouth open wider, to take more, to be good for him, to make him proud. It’s worth it for the hoarse, throaty moans you’re pulling from him, to hear your name shuddered out, followed by a breathy, “Fuck,”

He forces hot cum down your throat a moment later, and you choke on it, sputtering around his cock, throat spasming as it tries to force the foreign object out. He won’t let it, though. He holds your head in place, nose pressed against his pubic bone, and you can do nothing but take it, like a good little girl, like he tells you to.

But it’s all worth it. It’s all worth it, to hear his broken whines like that, to have him look down at you and pull your hair and tell you you’re good, so good for him.

And you’re sobbing by the end of it, gasping for air the moment he lets go of you, wheezing violently as your head collapses against his thigh.

“Did I—” you cough, voice raspy from having your throat fucked raw, “—Did I make it up to you, niichan?” you gaze up at him, eyelashes spiky with residual water. You’re the perfect picture of obedience, strands of hair stuck to your face where your salty tears have dried and swollen lips gleaming with saliva as you watch him with glittering eyes, waiting desperately for his praise.

He looks down at you, eyes devious and diabolical, chest heaving a little. “Of course you did,” he tells you, corners of his lips tugging up into a sharp smirk as you melt into him. “You always do, don’t you?”

[sungie]

your move: okkotsu yuuta x reader

a/n: i love him??? help ???

warnings: this is set right after the shibuya incident so there's definitely implications to what happened (but no spoilers).

masterlist

The chess piece in front of you looms perilously. It’s a white knight, the slope of the mane a smooth crescent curve beneath your fingertips. Two “L”-shaped moves to the left send the steed in attacking position, yet there’s still the threat of the opponent’s Queen haughtily resting in the corner of the board. An imminent presence that attempts to conceal itself from the allusion of a seemingly exposed King.

Never mind that you’re the one playing the opponent. You’ve got your own agenda once you swivel the board over and resume the technique you’ve grown to admire and hate all at once.

The door slides open.

You stiffen. Half of you wants to whirl around. Truth-be-told, you’re terrified of something flying out to ambush you. A darker thought comes just as quickly; perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. At least, it would be a dose of much-deserved karma for not losing something like you should have: a limb, a life, a soul.

“Panda, did you bring the snacks?” It’s killing you not to turn around. “Come here, I think I’ve figured out how to beat him. You can play, if you want.”

You dangle the knight between your trembling fingertips, deciding to plant it between a rook and a pawn, hoping that the risk pays off. In any case, if Panda does decide to take over, he won’t notice it. And if it is a curse, you won’t be here long enough to carry out the opponent’s move.

The person standing in the doorway chuckles, amused. He steps closer to the board, his legs a black blur in the corner of your vision. “I would’ve moved it here.” He crouches down, tapping a square on the board that you’d never even considered.

“That’s stupid. Only Okkotsu would do something like that. Why would I,” your mouth parts.

That’s not Panda’s voice. It can’t be...He wasn’t supposed to be back for a long time.

You sputter, turning so quickly that the person beside you automatically reaches out to grasp your shoulders. “Hi,” Okkotsu grins. “Don’t fall.”

You stare at him, blinking. You partially reach out, hand wobbling in front of you.

It hurts to breathe. You’re not sure if you can, breathe. Okkotsu’s exactly the same, but also not the same, all at once. He’s let his hair grow out, his bangs longer and leisurely framing his face. Dark circles caress his lower lashes, illuminating eyes that have grown more sunken, more aged. Sanpaku, you think, in concern.

But oh, god. He’s so beautiful. There’s the same kindness, the same laughter lines when he grins, the same searching curiosity flickering in his irises whenever he gazes at you.

For the longest time, you’d been seeing him everywhere. Little glimpses of Okkotsu when you stood on the metro, hints of him in boys with spiky black hair, a sudden rush of recognition when a man passed by wearing a similar white tunic with puffy sleeves.

It’s really him. He’s here.

“You,” you murmur. Your eyes widen. Your body reaches clarity a few seconds before your brain, and you’re lunging forward, making up for lost time spent in lag.

“Oh my god,” you say, over and over again, wrapping your arms around him. “I can’t believe you’re home.”

Okkotsu laughs, melting into your embrace. He returns the hug, squeezing you tightly. Has Okkotsu always been this warm? “Listen,” he mumbles into your ear, “I swear I tried to message you, but the wi-fi was shit --”

You pull back, your eyes wide. Why is he back so soon? Nothing happened, right? They wouldn’t put his execution back on the table, would they? As soon as the thought comes to mind, a familiar dread tingles down your spine, and you jerk away, blood ice-cold. “Are you okay?” You untangle your arms to cup his face, brushing locks of hair away to impulsively thumb the exhaustion present in dark circles underneath his eyes. “Yuuta … You’re not hurt, are you?”

Okkotsu’s eyes widen. He blinks at you twice, his mouth parting. And then, there’s a dumb, happy smile spreading across his face, his face which is now very quickly reddening. “I, um,” he manages, “I’m ..”

You irritatingly blink away the tightness in your throat. “Say you’re okay.” You stare at him, trying to determine for yourself if there’s anything wrong. Images of a few nights ago flash in your brain, a terrible clicking of a phenakistoscope that won’t stop. You shut your eyes, willing the memories to leave. “I can’t, I can’t lose…”

It’s pathetic. You shouldn’t be like this from just getting a hug and seeing Okkotsu. But it’s Okkotsu, you think, automatically. Of course, you’d react like this.

You blink, startled into attention.

Okkotsu lightly rests his hand atop yours, the one cupping his face. His touch is gentle, comforting. It sends warmth spiraling all over your skin.

Your finger lightly traces the area underneath a fresh cut, then glides to the greenish, purple bruise atop his cheekbone, and then another bruise near the rut of his jaw. “You’re hurt.”

Okkotsu has, if possible, turned even more red. His bottom lip trembles, almost like there’s something he wants to say, but he can’t. He just continues to gaze at you with wonder, and something so vulnerable that you can’t look at it for too long.

“Okkotsu.” Your hold on his face firmens. “Answer me.”

“I’m not hurt,” he whispers, embarrassed.

“Then why are you …”

Okkotsu seems to realize what you’re implying, and he shakes his head. “I came back to help Gojou, not because of something bad overseas.” And then, “I’m not in trouble. Please, don’t worry.”

You search his gaze for any trace of pretense, and not finding it, you let your hands fall away from his face. “Okay.”

Despite the longing to keep Okkotsu here, to talk with him about everything that’s been going on, everything he’s missed, all the things you’ve wanted to share with him for months, you think it’s best to let him go.

“You should visit the others,” you smile at him. “They’re going to freak out.”

Okkotsu almost looks disappointed. He lowers his gaze, running a hand through his hair. “You want me to go?”

You laugh, standing to pull him up. “No, I want you to tell everyone you’re back, because I know you’ve missed them, too.”

Okkotsu reluctantly lets you pull him to his feet. “More time to practice isn’t going to help you beat me,” he teases.

You glare at him.

He meets it with a soft smile. It’s one you haven’t seen in a while. “Okay. I’m coming back, though.”

“If you don’t, I’ll kill you.”

Okkotsu laughs again. “Rude. I’m not going to miss a chance to win at chess.”

Oh, you’ve missed him. You missed the way he laughs so easily, that simple smile that makes your heart tug every which way.

He pulls you into another hug, his hand resting against the back of your head. His touch is always so gentle, so warm.

“You said my name.” Even now, you can hear the smile in his voice. “You’ve never --”

You breathe out a stifled laugh. “Yeah? Am I supposed to call you something else?”

Okkotsu blinks. “Huh?”

“Let’s see,” you smirk, “Special-grade? Idiot? Gojou’s --”

“No,” Okkotsu murmurs, “Yuuta.”

A bright wall slams through your mind, settling itself right between coherent speech and intelligence. You start sifting through memories, flipping pages of a calendar back and back and back.

“You want me to,” the words fall away in your mouth.

“No!” Okkotsu recoils, his arms falling back to his sides. “No, don’t …”

Despite yourself, you can feel hurt flickering across your face.

Okkotsu sees it, of course he does. The same hurt reflects in his eyes, and you bite your lip, already feeling terrible. He always feels what everyone else does. He’s sweet, like that. “Sorry, I meant … That’s what you called me.”

What.

“I did?”

“Yeah.”

You stare at him, a mixture of embarrassment, horror, and confusion rippling across your face in a sudden concoction that can only taste absolutely awful.

Okkotsu’s babbling now, his eyes wide for an entirely different reason. “Oh shit, don’t feel bad ... I just, I know we haven’t been friends for super long, but it’s okay! I didn’t bring it up because I was upset … I’m not, and I don’t know why I mentioned it. So just don’t feel bad, please?”

“I really didn’t mean to,” You repeat, wringing your hands. You should’ve just stuck to playing chess, should’ve kept things brief and let him immediately greet the others. His other friends who are much closer to him, and who should be the ones calling him by his name, not you.

Okkotsu lightly, carefully, touches your hands. A shy smile dusts across his lips, but he won’t meet your gaze. “No, don’t apologize. It was cute. And I liked it. That’s … that’s what I was trying to say. Not make you uncomfortable.”

You stare at him with wide eyes.

Okkotsu’s smile turns into a very nervous one, and then he darts to the door, sporting an unusually wide grin as he waves at you. “I’m gonna go, bye!”

“Wait,” you step forward.

But Okkotsu is already long gone, his white tunic flashing as he twists around the corner. His footsteps echo against the wooden staircase, and you’re left blinking at where he once stood, the chess set in the room all but forgotten.

[kachuuyaa]

##CRiME AND PUNiSHMENT — genshin impact

g.i headcanons. gn!reader, fyodor!reader (from bsd)

crime and punishment2!

1CHARACTERS; DILUC, KAEYA, CHILDE, SCARAMOUCHE

2GENRE; fluff ig

3INCLUDES; u r fyodor !!!! wooo, these characters falling in love w u because u r ... well u r you and fyodor!!!! fyodor is so amazing actually, alcohol, violence implied BUT not graphic, ur last name is Dostoevsky. go crazy !!!

4AUTHOR'S NOTES; THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY actually this doc was 10 PAGES SCREAMS, also I put in Fyodor Dostoevsky quotes in here Smirks SORRY IF SCARA IS OOC I DONT KNOW HIS CHARACTER MUCH

5SYNOPSIS: “Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid.” You, however, were a walking enigma, and they wanted to solve you.

You are a walking puzzle waiting to be solved. You were mysterious, yet exuding power and arrogance. Maybe that’s what attracted them to you but to most, your aura screamed unapproachable. You were described as intimidating, some even called you a threat to Mondstadt. You could care less, though, if your first impression gained you a reputation, you ignored the rest. You did your own thing, and maybe the reason why they don’t know anything about you is that they don’t try. The people of Mondstadt love to assume things, you deduced as much.

If someone would be able to voice an opinion about you, you already know they would call you a walking paradox, one that needs the most complicated and complex ways of solving. To newcomers, you looked like an ordinary person, except for your attire. Some even assumed that you were from Snezhnaya, (of course, you knew they would assume the worst, that you were from the Fatui, but did you care?) and people are aware of how intelligent you are. You helped the knights once, and the alchemist across the streets. These aren’t notable, in your opinion, but whatever gains the citizens’ respect, you assume.

Only a handful of people, most of them are knights, know you could defend yourself, and that further increased the suspicion put on you. You were arrogant and you know how to handle situations well, and that surprised the knights, shortly. You enjoy the amount of attention on you when the knights have noticed your presence and immediately suspect you. Was it your general personality that caused them to think that you’re a threat to Mondstadt? Come on, who would threaten the city of freedom? Now, that will just be failing an old friends’ beliefs, no?

You have an ability that most are not aware of and you like to keep it that way. Your presence is enough for Mondstadt to endure. You may be a mystery to many and you may be a lingering truth-- or a beautiful lie to the lives of others, but you know you were a blossoming flower in need of something to live for. Is being a paradox what made you so interesting? You were more than just a mystery to the eyes of the living, and you were a sickening truth to the dead. You never lie to yourself, for you were not ready to come to a point where you cannot distinguish the truth presented in front of you. You weren’t a paradox, you were merely misunderstood, and only you can confirm that statement.

And if they felt infatuated with you, is it finally time to accept and lie to yourself? You never liked nor craved human interaction, and love, love is an irresolute feeling to you. But maybe, maybe you’ll lose to your heart just this once. They can never outsmart you, anyway. You’re always two-- ten steps ahead. Impossible? Well, some would agree. You too would agree. You can’t live out your pride, now would you? It takes more than intelligence to act intelligently, you would quote. You always put your pride on the line, and you knew that some people would kill before they do. But what’s the point of sacrificing your pride for others when the people let you have one in the first place?

DILUC

This man

Seriously, when he was reported about your presence-- he didn’t care, but when he saw you? WHEEEW that man is SUSPICIOUS, not whipped.

He asked for information about you-- even going as far as asking Kaeya who or what were you. When Kaeya could only give small, unsure answers, he knew that he needed to directly confront you.

You were intimidating, unapproachable, the citizens would say. What did that matter to him? God, he was aloof, intimidating as well, but was somehow titled as one of Mondstadt’s most popular bachelors. Was it because of his last name, being born into the wealthy (one could say wealthiest, but Diluc here is modest.), and famous Ragnvindr family?

He saw you, finally, you were helping the traveler with his commissions. Why were you near the honorary knight? You weren’t one, Kaeya didn’t mention you being one, and the people of Mondstadt never saw you meddle with the Knights's affairs.

He concluded the worst. He thought that you were gathering information for whatever nefarious scheme you have upon your sleeve, what if the citizens were right? What if you were actually a threat to Mond--

DID YOU JUST HELP THE TRAVELER WITH THEIR COMMISSIONS?

He really thought you would just tag along with the traveler whenever it was deemed important.

You both met during his Darknight Hero endeavors, though.

He was defeating a hoard of hilichurls and an abyss mage and you were silently watching the whole thing, calculating eyes scanning the moonlight sky

When he caught you in his peripheral vision, you were prepared for the worst.

Yeah, as expected, you were asked, “who are you?” demanding, was the first thing you thought about the young Ragnvindr, and that he doesn’t want people (like you, but that was beyond disrespectful to mention) to figure out his duties.

He, on the other hand, thought you would not recognize him.

Instead, you respond with a smile, “well, this was a certainly informal first meeting, Darknight Hero,” he couldn’t miss the slight teasing tone when you mentioned his alias, though, stiffening when you said “or should I say, Diluc Ragnvindr.” You tilted your head, allowing a mischievous glint to swirl in your sharp, tantalizing eyes.

He was quite literally shitting his pants. URVOICEUREYESUR…. UR EVERYTHING

After that encounter, he grew to be warier and until YOU decided to go to angel’s share.

He was the bartender that night. Nearly everything in his mind starts to operate when he sees the hat (your ushanka, he doesn’t know what it is yet.) following after the opening of the door.

You were not fond of lively sceneries, and when you entered, you caught the attention of the more sober customers, but all looked away when your eyes flicked to theirs. Well, you were terrifying, what can they say?

A certain cavalry captain was smirking, though.

Who knew that the infamous talk of the town would show up in Mondstadt’s local tavern.

Diluc thought you were of Snezhnayan descent. Your taste in wine was that of an average Snezhnayan, he would add.

He was straightforward, not interested in unnecessary talk, you observed.

You were too, straight to the point, that’s what he liked about you.

Wait, what? He ‘liked’ that about you?

Soon enough, when he heard about how intelligent you are and how you helped Mondstadt’s people, his negative emotions towards you faltered. You were .. remarkable, in a way.

He didn’t like how arrogant you are to him, though. To people against you? He would silently be cheering you on.

You never show him your true sinister personality, he wasn’t one of your enemies, after all.

You never show Mondstadt your true sinister personality, in general.

Oh, and about your ability? You don’t bother telling him either, he was clueless, after all.

So, what made him fall in love? He didn’t know, but did you? You were known to outsmart most people in Mondstadt-- hell, you might be the smartest he’s ever known.

What made you, out of all people, fall in love with someone like him? He was a man with a good complexion-- maybe that’s what made you drawn to him.

He couldn’t take it anymore-- he wanted, no, he needed to tell you. So he did, straightforward, but a bit of stutter here and there, you didn’t mind.

You knew he fell in love with you. It was painfully obvious, and after a time of denial, you began to accept your feelings, you loved-- that was a strong word, but it was the right one. You love him.

When asked, why, why did you accept his confession, and why did he accept yours? Was it impulsiveness, perhaps? Love makes you do regrettable things, but god-- it feels good, right. Maybe it was, for the first time.

KAEYA

When he heard the rumors about a certain suspicious and mysterious person roaming in Mondstadt, he suddenly grew interested.

Maybe you could spill some information about yourself, perhaps?

That’s what he does, anyway, luring people to his trap, and gaining information from them-- you wouldn’t be any better, now would you?

He was intelligent, it should be obvious, and his reputation does not disappoint. His confidence never wavers, even on the battlefield.

When he met you, he was ecstatic. He can now ask you some questions, maybe some manipulation here and there? For good intent, he swears.

When he called you out, you flicked your sharp, intense gaze from your drink to him. Now, don’t get him wrong, his confidence never wavers, but somehow, your gaze matches that of venom. Your gaze was cold, sharp, calculating. It seemed like you were a mastermind.

He didn’t back down, no. Why would the Kaeya Alberich back down due to a gaze like yours? He started with small talk, noting how straightforward you are, but you were uninterested.

In fact, you knew the Cavalry Captain, you knew about his reputation, and you knew where this was going.

Vague, vague, vague. Every answer that comes out of your mouth was vague like you saw right through him.

You are intelligent, you outsmarted him, for fucks’ sake, and you turned the tables on him, now. What was your next trick, hm?

You surprised the Captain, he found you incredibly intriguing,

He couldn’t miss the slight smirk on your lips when you lured him to your trap.

AND WHEN YOU SAID, “I believe that someone as intelligent as you would be aware of this, hm?” HE WAS SEETHING

He was supposed to interrogate you, so how come you are taunting him on his own interrogation?

You swiftly set your wine glass down and when you uttered, “you can have your suspicions, Alberich,” he remained quiet, you observed. You set your eyes to the man in front of you, “but you should know that a hundred suspicions don’t make a right.”

Kaeya simply smirked, he flirted with you when he didn’t have any rebuttals, and you found that slightly annoying. He didn’t want to admit defeat, you mused to yourself.

You reciprocated the smirk, making it a sinister smile. That, he shuddered from. Who were you exactly?

“The name is [Name] Dostoevsky. Don’t forget me, yeah?” you said, a slight tease soaked in your tone. Oh, he never forgot your name, alright.

Your meetings in certain areas were frequent, when he sees you roaming the streets or in his patrols, he won’t hesitate to strike up a conversation. Some flirting and friendly banter here and there, and you, you remained calm and straightforward.

He lies, a lot, you observed. You didn’t particularly hate the idea of lying, but you only resented the feeling of having to lie to yourself.

Kaeya Alberich looks like a man that would lie to himself, you thought.

So when he sat beside you again and told you about his escapade during his work, you couldn’t help but listen. Hey, the man was interesting for someone as carefree as him.

He always found your arrogance interesting. You predicted things right, and you knew just what buttons to press to send him to orbit. You were also nonchalant to provocations and challenges from others. Calm, you were. How did you do it?

When you asked him about his carefree personality he answered in curiosity, curious as to why you would ask him that out of the blue.

“A facade,” you blurted, “even with one, isn’t a moment of bliss enough for a whole lifetime?” Kaeya didn’t know what to say to that one. He shouldn’t have underestimated you, silly Kaeya.

His past was rough, he wanted to forget, and he seemed to forget about things when he was with you. You made him focus on you and only you when you two conversed.

Has he fallen in love with you?

The mere thought of how intelligent you are and your eyes-- your confidence, makes his heart race

You saw through him, you saw through his lies, and yet, you still were there.

On the other hand, you were coming to a conclusion faster than he is yet figuring out your own feelings seems harder than it looks.

Denial is what made it hard.

Love in action is a harsh and dreadful thing, you realized, you never dreamed of love, but you imagined it once. It wasn’t beautiful, it was just what you expected, and you were rarely wrong.

Kaeya was the first one to utter his confession in another Angel’s Share hangout.

You recalled, “from the first time I saw you, you were interesting,” he said, voice strained, “and when I talked to you, every day, these feelings never seem to falter.” he let out a dry chuckle, before continuing, “I should’ve set that affect on you, no?” his periwinkle eye bores into yours, “ah-- what I’m saying is that I.. I love you, I think.” and for the first time, your mind went blank.

No way, no fucking way.

You could tell this was genuine, his tone and everything, it changed.

“Are you sure, Alberich--” you were interrupted by Kaeya, “Kaeya, call me Kaeya.” your words stuck on your tongue, you simply uttered an “even if you are the person you present yourself as, I adore you, as well.” simple and straightforward, that was you.

He took that as an ‘I love you, too.’

CHILDE

He knew of you because the Fatui saw you as a threat.

Some useless underling reported a harbinger about a sinister-looking person, and they seem to be from Snezhnaya.

Your hat made him think that. It was what his little brother was wearing, after all.

Another report came crashing down on him, saying that you are somehow acquainted with the traveler. He didn’t really care until he realized that you were probably the brains out of the duo (traveler and Paimon) he met firsthand.

You knew about the Fatui watching you, it felt incredibly nostalgic. As always, you were seen as a threat, but what they needed to fear about you was your ability and your truly sinister personality. You took pride in being on the Fatui’s watchlist.

You didn’t purposefully make yourself known to the Fatui, in a sense, it was only natural for people to take notice of another member in the outlander’s party.

Childe appeared friendly and confident when he met you, alone, and you silently pondered if he’s going to attempt to question you.

You were told that he was unpredictable, that he was ‘warm and friendly the first, and ruthless killer the next.’ you didn’t see him as unpredictable. For you, he was as predictable as many.

You encountered many people like him, who was he to be any different?

Your arrogance and your confidence never seem to falter every time he’s around, and that makes him livid, yet thrilled at your pridefulness.

He, himself is prideful, arrogant, one may say, and for you to step up to someone like him? You have made a grave mistake.

Or so he thought.

Again, your intelligence outmatched those who present themselves as harbingers.

You talked in riddles, at least that’s what Childe thought, he mentioned this to you, once, and all you said was

“It’s only a riddle if you think it is,” and when you said that, Childe wanted to bang his head on the table.

He hated you for how you talk in riddles, per se.

But when he figured out how intelligent and how calm you are when he threatened you (that’s what he liked to call it, anyway.) he began to understand how you were a threat to the Fatui.

He was a Fatui Harbinger, the youngest and most ruthless yet! How are you able to maintain your composure around HIM? Aren’t you supposed to be scared?

You weren’t. You saw right through him, and you’re not afraid to talk highly about yourself, and taunting, teasing him in the process.

He was livid to summarise it all up.

He was itching, forcing you to fight him, trying to manipulate you to get off your high horse and know that you are under him. You aren’t a remarkable person, you don’t have any significant attributes, who were you to taunt someone as powerful as he? He could kill you anytime he wanted, but he didn’t.

And you? You were enjoying every single reaction Childe showed you.

You probably know more about him than he does you.

Why does he like your presence though? You weren’t one that respects him, and he definitely seems like he hates you, so why does he get this feeling in his chest when both of you are alone?

The traveler didn’t know what to do when he saw you with Childe, mostly alone, were you part of the Fatui?

You were quick to disclose that you weren’t part of the Fatui, even sliding in a few insults here and there, right in front of Childe’s face.

Childe told you that he had enough, he said-- promised that he’ll capture you, and spewing threats out of anger.

You’ve never seen him so livid, so… merciless. You simply sat, amused, knowing that it was empty threats.

You knew how to use your words, forming a symphony with only your mind. So when you simply voiced out, “talking nonsense is the sole privilege people possess over others.” he shut up quickly after that, a gesture for you to continue. “It’s by talking nonsense that one gets to the truth.” you voiced out last, closing your eyes and letting the smoke formed by your tea enter your nostrils.

He seemed perplexed, confused, you’d say. Obviously, that’s one trait a battle-hungry man would possess. The only universal language they speak is violence and would be more than happy to use it even when it is not needed.

[Name] Dostoevsky, an enigma not even the higher superior of Harbingers could solve, he learned that quite quickly when he saw-- first hand how analytic and cunning you could be.

Was that how he fell for you? Maybe, but why, was the question

He was a harbinger, you only had your intelligence and your words, what else would you have?

Ah, that’s right, he would have to find out. You were an enigma, after all. He loved you; truly, ardently, vehemently. He loved you like a well-fought battle, while his emotions and his morals were against each other, his heart; in itself, was the battlefield.

Maybe the Fatui did not see you as a threat after that incident.

And maybe you loved him too.

But he knew, all he could do was dream, and wait until it became a reality.

One day, you said, “we sometimes, rarely, encounter people who begin to interest us at first sight, before we utter even a word.” you turned to him, and smiled, it was genuine, he noted, “the first thing you thought about was me, am I wrong?” his breathing hitched, and that was a confirmation that he first thought about you. Seeing his reaction, you let a laugh slip out of your mouth.

When your laugh faltered, you retorted, “Don’t worry, that makes two of us.”

His neck never snapped as fast as now.

If he described his love for you as a well-fought battle, your love for him was a new, fresh composition. Something you worked so hard for, and as expected, it paid off in the end.

A composition that allows you to feel various emotions at once. A composition that, although beautiful, will not lose to the battle called time, for it will forever remain.

A composition that may be old and forgotten over the years, but you know there was a time where it was appreciated; loved, valued.

That was love to you, and a love both you and Tartaglia shared.

SCARAMOUCHE

He first saw you when he was stationed in Mondstadt; spying, gathering intel. Usual Harbinger mannerisms.

Then there was you, the supposed sinister vigilante in Mondstadt.

They described you as cunning, intelligent, and extremely arrogant yet intimidating.

He wanted to know more; he needed all kinds of intel, and this one managed to catch his attention.

Not much was known about Scaramouche, although you knew of him, how he was described as two-faced. He was short, although that may change if you saw him again.

He was the 6th Fatui Harbinger-- feared by many, and aggressive by nature.

Scaramouche, ever the prideful man, thought he could outsmart you. If only he knew that many other people tried doing so, and you turned the tables on them, which eradicated their pride.

He first encountered you on Starsnatch Cliff.

He sat, observing you.

You were simply looking at the stars, what’s so bad about that? Is this the ‘cunning, intimidating’ fellow Mondstadt’s folk were afraid of? They were just some other insignificant, pathetic person!

Although when you said, “you’re there, aren’t you?” voice barely above a whisper, but he somehow heard it.

His mind blanked, he was supposed to be stealthy.

“Who are you?” he asked, tone laced with coldness.

While you simply replied, “Dostoevsky. A name in which you may remember, yet a name you might forget to pronounce.”

He clicked his tongue, aren’t you going to ask who he was? You were alone, after all, he didn’t need to be his fake personality. You, you were someone who annoyed him despite meeting him only once. Though, let’s be fair, who hasn’t annoyed Scaramouche?

“I know who you are. None should be questioned.” His scowl left his face after that. Surely you must be scared now that you know him, right?

You, on the other hand, don’t care about his status. You never appeared to be vulnerable in the first place. He knew about you, and as you do to him. You knew about how powerful he is, the rumors about him, and you know about his facade. It was not hard to figure out, anyways.

“Vulnerability is shown if man allows it to be. Only they know about the interior.” you recited.

What? What was this silly little human saying? He, in himself, was feared by many, he couldn’t let his pride be shattered by you out of all people.

“You look like you’re stuck in your thoughts,” you chuckled, a sinister smile painting your features, and that’s when he got a glimpse of your eyes.

Mischief, arrogance, pride. That’s what he saw when he locked eyes with you.

“If I run away, will you catch up with me?” you questioned, gaze far from faltering.

He’s not one to back down so easily, he knows, but god you’re terrifying.

You clicked your tongue, “This is a one-sided conversation.” you said, finally looking away from the harbinger.

He smiled, and said, “you are simply interesting, I wish to listen to you.”

Ah, there it is, you thought to yourself. So he really is two-faced.

“Is that so? My reputation in Mondstadt says otherwise.” you retorted, turning your back on him.

Looking at him over your shoulder, you smiled, eyes boring into his dark blue ones, “I wish to not seek friendship with someone whose sincerity is only true if it is directed to oneself.” with that, you were gone.

You insulted him, he thought. How could you insult someone like him?

You had no vision, no purpose, you only had a reputation, and your intelligence.

No one really knew about your ability, and if they do, hell, you’ll be dead where you stand.

(tbh i really don’t fucking understand fyodor’s ability what the Shit even)

Your visits to Starsnatch cliff were frequent, simply for tea and for peace. You didn’t like crowds, and you don’t like being the center of attention.

What Scaramouche noticed about you was your headpiece, your hat.

It reminded him of Snezhnaya.

Were you from Snezhnaya? He never saw you there, definitely not. So if you weren’t, where were you from?

The people of Mondsadt loved assuming things yet they had no proof as to who you really are, Scaramouche mused.

They didn’t even know your fucking age.

You were an enigma to the rest of Mondstadt, and you were to him, yet the only difference is that he wanted to solve you.

But even though he wants to, his pride prevents him from succumbing to this feeling.

He never felt it before, he started to look forward to your little visits on Starsnatch Cliff.

You wouldn’t admit it, but you wanted to push him off the cliff once.

Your answers to his questions remained vague and poetic, leaving him to decipher them.

You were truly a paradox, one that could attract many, but leaving you unsatisfied.

He wanted to trust you, he wanted to love you.

You were aware of this. You knew how out of character it would be if he fell in love, with someone like you no less.

You … Well, you tolerated him, you laughed when he started spewing out insults to you, and you never were a threat to both the Fatui and Mondstadt, he knew.

You were, though, you will never voice that out loud. Your intelligence surpassed those you meet, so naturally, you were cunning, deceitful, even

But not to him, no. You had to adjust to this feeling called love.

You have never fallen in love with someone, and you could tell he hasn’t, too. His drastic change in personality (at least, that’s what you observed) was what proved it.

He was in denial, but he knew he had to accept it, and he thought that you know about his feelings, so why would he confess? You look like the person who won’t make the first move, and he was right about that.

Your statement about his feelings for you was out of the blue like it sounded something ordinary.

To say he was angry was an understatement. He was a harbinger, you should be lucky that someone like him loves you. You should be lucky that he would even be devoted to someone who is fairly easy to replace.

Your pride wasn’t affected in the slightest, you knew that he would shut up when you start talking, for each word you utter is something Scaramouche needs to decipher.

“Why aren’t you talking?” This question bounces off the walls in your brain, and you utter a simple, “To love is to suffer, and there can be no love otherwise.” and he quickly snapped his head to yours.

He let out a breathy chuckle, followed by a “what?” there’s no way you love him, no.

This was the first time you allowed yourself to be vulnerable to someone you should have seen as your enemy.

Love makes people do regrettable things, what can I say? Love has layers and layers of pain, suffering, and understanding.

While you can decipher the feelings of love, you can’t decipher your own.

A fool with no heart but with a brain is still a fool otherwise, and a fool with a heart but without a brain is still a fool as well, and those relating to this are destined to crash and burn.

A love with Scaramouche is filled with holes and the abyss in-between.

Would you have it any other way? No.

“I... I appreciate you.” you stuttered, allowing yourself to appear vulnerable to the man you first resented the most. “Why you may ask?” you look at the man before you, utter adoration and shock, painting his features, “you may not be perfect, and I adore you for that.” you were being sincere, he knew that. “I love you in spite of not being perfect, and do you?”

You were being genuine, he knew, he can’t do anything, except mutter a single “yes.”

29052021 , © kachuuyaa | do not claim my work as your own.

[honeyabyss]

A humans mortality (Lucifer x Mc)

Summary: Mc suddenly realizes their own mortality and it scares them, but Lucifer is there to comfort and reassure. (This was a request by @number-0-iz, hope you like it!)

Warnings: some random demons threatens you, implied anxiety attack

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It had been a while since the day you arrived in Devildom. By now it felt almost like a second home, demons weren't that different from humans at most times.

Sure they still were supernatural beings who are more than capable of snapping you in half without any effort at all, but you always brushed all these small differences away.

Don't think about them! It had been your very first rule to be established for yourself at the start of the exchange year, to help and get more comfortable around these non-human beings. At one point the bad feelings slipped into the back of your mind, only once in a while emerging from it's deep sleep, for example when one of the brothers snapped yet again. But it didn't scare you anymore! You made friends among the demons, something you would have never thought for possible just one year ago, but here you are!

That doesn't mean though that all demons have accepted you...You were after all still a lowly human, just living under the protection of the demon lords. Some of those of lower ranking found it unbelievable. What did you do to make those mighty demons like you?

Some demons gossiped loudly in RADs hallways even when you passed them, some chose to envy you from the shadows, while others, more bolder maybe also less intelligent ones, tried to threaten you, to make you stay away from the beloved yet equally feared brothers. But as they never truly tried anything, due to one of your protectors being around you all the time, you ignored the comments.

It was late in the afternoon and Mammon had ditched you, it wasn't really planned, but someone he was indebted to had recognized him and started chasing him. You had tried to keep up with them, but they were too fast.

Not wanting Mammon to get into trouble for leaving you behind, you made your way back to the House of Lamentation.

The streets were bustling with demons of all kinds, shopping, going home, meeting and talking with others; it felt just like a normal day in a human realm city.

Though most of them were friendly to you, you didn't want to test your luck and briskly walked through the crowded streets, trying to avoid bumping into anyone.

Unfortunately that was deemed to be impossible and so you accidentally walked into a tall demon you didn't recognize, but instantly had a queasy feeling upon seeing his face.

The demon scowled at you, brushing some invisible dirt off the places you touched him.

A meekly muttered apology came from your mouth. You hadn't meant to cause trouble and definitely not to one that looked so dangerous.

The demon didn't respond at first he just stared at you. As you tried to sidestep around the demon, he moved with you, blocking your way forward.

"Where do you think you're going? Trying to escape? You didn't actually think I'd let you run off, right?"

You didn't answer, didn't even know what would be the best to respond now. All you could think of was that he hopefully wouldn't notice how your heart raced in fear.

"All alone today? None of the brothers are accompanying you? Have they finally realised how worthless you are? Maybe I should do them a favour and get rid of you for the sake of all of us?"

Your eyes were wide open, adrenaline pumping through your veins and your instinct told you to run, to run now, to run fast and to run far in hopes of escape, but your mind told you otherwise, you were no match to a fully grown demon, not even to a small one, running wouldn't help you.

You had always known that demons were demons, that there were distinct differences between your races, yet you pushed them away, for the sake of the exchange year you braved your way through the daily stress in hell, forgetting a small but important fact: you were very much still just a mortal.

Your own heartbeat resonated in your ears, blocking every other sound out, your hands felt clammy with the cold sweat of fear and your eyes didn't seem to be able to focus on anything. You were in absolute shock, desperately trying to find a way out of the situation.

The demon wraps his hand tightly around your wrist, but before he can start pulling you away another hand interferes, freeing you from your captor's bruising grip.

Lucifer is standing between you and the demon looking furious, he is yelling at the startled lower ranking demon in front of him, but you can't make out what he is saying as you're still in your stupor.

Your mind is still racing over time when Lucifer is starting to gently guide you back home. No words are said, and if he did, you didn't notice too caught up in your thoughts.

"I could have died...", you whisper after what feels like an hour later.

"But you're not. You're safe now. I won't let anything like that ever happen again to you.", Lucifer answers having heard your whispering. His hand is still holding yours so gently as if it were going to shatter at any moment.

Your head turns slowly towards him, only now you realize that you were sitting on the sofa in his room, when you had made it here you couldn't really remember. Everything seemed to be a blur.

With the knowledge of finally being at a safe place, your body decides to break down. Tears start to stream down your face and your whole body shakes with every sob. Lucifer's arms wrap around you, holding you firmly, yet not painful, against his chest, one of his hands continuously stroking over your head to comfort you.

Your hands grip the material of his shirt so tight that your knuckles turn white as you sob in the comfort of his arms.

"I-I could have died...I don't want to! I'm scared!", the more you think about it the more scared you get, and speaking it out loud doesn't help calm you down either. Your breathing is getting short and erratic, transporting only enough air into your lungs to stay conscious. The cold feeling of fear keeps spreading throughout your body, trying to consume you completely, only stopping at Lucifer's words.

"Don't be scared...I'm here with you. Let's calm down first before you hyperventilate...", his voice is low and soothing, slowly helping you to normalize your breathing yet a few sobs are still coming through every now and then.

"I'm not going to pretend I know how terrifying the thought of dying is...demons usually don't have to worry about that after all, but I experienced how much it hurts to lose a person, so I might know at least a bit more than others....Death...is inevitable for human beings. You may have a short life, but I believe you also get to spend the most beautiful ones."

You silently listen to him still wrapped up in his warm hug while you hide your tearstained face in his chest.

"The life of a demon can become quite lonely and boring sometimes, after all, living for multiple millennials is a long time, maybe even too long...A thing I enjoy today, might become the most boring thing in the next centuries. Trying to find new stuff to enjoy can be hard and you become unmotivated and sometimes demons even become numb to all joy...If it weren't for my troublesome brothers...it might have already happened to me as well", he lets out a small chuckle before continuing, "anyway, what I mean to tell you is that though your life is short, humans live their life to the fullest, getting to enjoy many different things, never having to worry about something becoming less entertaining in the next century. While humans live in the now, demons tend to forget this and either dwell in memories of the past or the worries of the future. A flower's beauty comes from their inevitability of wilting, because the short time of their lives when they blossom is also the part where they are loved the most! Maybe that is why humans have to die, their colours are too vibrant and beautiful to exist forever."

While attempting at comforting you, he was probably the most open and vulnerable he had ever been, but he didn't seem to mind, as long as it helped you he was happy.

"But your life isn't over yet, not even close to the end...I promise to protect you until your very last breath. And when the time comes to say goodbye to this world I'll be with you holding your hand, making sure you're okay. And afterwards, even when centuries have gone by, I will never forget you, you will live on in my memories forever. I promise you!"

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 303: And What, Pray Tell, Is a “One For All”

Previously on BnHA: The Todorokis (really just Enji) looked at their children and went “how can we screw up all four of them in uniquely different ways” and proceeded to do just that. Touya was all “just because practicing how to set myself on fire better hasn’t worked to win my dad’s affections YET doesn’t mean it will NEVER work”, because child logic. Turns out setting oneself on fire real hard isn’t so effective at winning affections, but is actually incredibly effective when it comes to burning oneself to death, so there’s that. Back in the present day, the Todorokis basked in their various misplaced (again, except for Enji) feelings of guilt, and were all “anyway but get over yourself already Enji, you still have to do something to stop this kid”, and Shouto was all “I’ll help too”, and Enji was all “(╥_╥)”, and Hawks and Jeanist were all “[surreptitiously listening in from outside the door]”, and that’s basically where we left off.

Today on BnHA: Hawks and Jeanist are all “mind if we join you on this family journey?” and proceed to stroll in uninvited with their puns and their perceptive insights. Hawks is all “so to sum everything up, we’re fucked, but at least you have us here to help you out! by the way, no clue why I’m the first person to ask this in three hundred chapters, but wtf is One For All.” We then cut to Deku, who’s still all “[(－－)]z”, and All Might, who is all “I’m just going to ignore the extremely loud racket going on right outside this room.” Which, btw, is happening on account of Bakugou, who is all “(╬◣Д◢)” as Satou, Tsuyu, and Mineta cart him away. Anyway so that’s a lot of antics, and also it looks like Hawks has gotten tired of the Todorokis refusing to put the pieces together on their own about OFA and so he is fast-tracking that shit. And meanwhile Deku is chatting it up with the Vestiges exactly like we all thought. And now we have to wait another whole week for updates on all of this. This really is not fair.

omfg lol

“our bad, we were kind of accidentally listening in on purpose.” like I said last week guys, no fuss. it’s a tradition

OMG

I am absolutely fucking floored. Hawks literally said that so casually that it’s impossible for me to rewrite it so as to be even more casual. that’s literally what I would write in the “today on bnha” section. in fact I probably will write that

(ETA: just for laughs I tried it and it really worked.)

a couple more things to point out about this panel: 

“TOP 3” omg yes. more like “top only” at this point, honestly. interested to see how that goes

Hawks’s phone is freaking the fuck out about something, calm down there

I know this is a standard Jeanist hair-fixing gesture that he does all the time, but I can’t help but form hypotheses about this being a stress reaction because Hawks’s hair is making him internally freak out. Hawks, if this man tries to get you alone with him and some hairspray and a comb, please for the love of god do not listen to him. get out of there and call the authorities

omg Shouto’s face

okay confession, I wasn’t really sold on the whole “Shouto has a schoolboy crush on Hawks” thing until exactly now, when I became 100% sold on it. that is adorable

and heck with it, gotta show Enji and Rei’s reactions here as well because lol

“omg my son who’s not my son, and he just overheard everything about me being a terrible shitty father and person overall, oh and plus my actual-son set him on fire and called him out on a national broadcast. I’m just gonna stare at him baffledly.” versus Rei, who is all “hmm, who are these people”

so Hawks is all “I got released from the hospital after one day for some reason so I made Jeanist drive me around places while we talked about life” but uh, heyyyyy, what’s Rei doing

okay, uh

SO FUCKING FORMAL OMFG. “SORRY MY KID TRIED TO BURN YOU TO DEATH, APPARENTLY HE DOES THAT” REI NO IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT

HAWKS IS ALL “I’M JUST GONNA LAUGH SINCE THAT’S MY DEFAULT RESPONSE TO BEING PROFOUNDLY UNCOMFORTABLE”

let me tell you a secret Hawks, it’s my default response too. ahahahahahahaha oh thank god Jeanist is helping her up -- AND MAKING A JEANS PUN, OF COURSE. IT’S BEEN ALMOST THIRTY SECONDS. MY MAN WAS DYING

“WTF IS ILLEGAL DENIM” he’s talking ‘bout them counterfeit jeans, Rei. Antoine Bugleboy knows

THANK YOU JEANIST!! OUT HERE ASKING THE RELEVANT QUESTIONS

damn straight. we’re not gonna sit around waiting another 300 chapters for this information on this man’s watch

now Hawks is telling Endeavor he used to watch videos of him all the time, and calling him his “childhood obsession” I can’t

OH MY SWEET STARS AND MOONS

1000% CANON. “SO CLOSE...” ARE YOU SERIOUS. YOU REALLY PUT THAT THOUGHT BUBBLE THERE AND EVERYTHING. “GOOD MORNING EVERYONE, SO JUST IN CASE YOU WEREN’T ALREADY AWARE, TODOROKI SHOUTO IS NOT ACTUALLY STRAIGHT.” HORIKOSHI KOUHEI I AM LITERALLY DUMBFOUNDED. THIS IS AMAZING

and meanwhile that look on Hawks’s face while he casually-but-not-really-casually-at-all asks this question. that phone app better be using his actual voice. I’m not sure I could take this scene in the anime at this point if it was like Alexa talking or something

that look in his eyes is basically saying that so far, based on the information he has absorbed up until this point, Hawks is prepared to view his former childhood obsession as a flawed but changed man. however I get the distinct feeling that depending on Endeavor’s answer now, he would be willing to drastically shift some of his opinions on him

(ETA: this is maybe my favorite panel in the entire chapter. the fact that his question isn’t addressed to anyone in particular, but his eyes are zeroing on on Endeavor. and the way his leaning-on-Shouto pose manages to be simultaneously nonchalant and yet ever-so-slightly protective. there’s so much going on in this one question and gesture and I’m mildly obsessed with it.)

however, Rei is all “that was me” and ONCE AGAIN WITH THE FACES IN THIS CHAPTER holy shit

Hawks definitely did not see that one coming sob. it’s so fun watching him frantically recalculate his ideas about this family every two seconds

DAMN IT HORIKOSHI I UNDERSTOOD THE PARALLELS ALREADY, YOU REALLY DIDN’T HAVE TO DO THIS

yes, Hawks, you get it. it’s not exactly the same, but it’s close enough. though unlike your shitty parents, Rei and Enji are at least trying

OKAY I SERIOUSLY CANNOT WITH ALL OF THIS

fljkdlaskfjlwkjl okay we’re doing the bullet-points breakdown here

first of all, the fact that poor little Shouto’s heart is still thumping away at this proximity and all he can think is “CLOSE” all intelligently as he stares at him with that face omg

and meanwhile Horikoshi has these STRATEGIC BANDAGES WRAPPED AROUND HIS CHEEKS TO HIDE ALL OF HIS SHOUJO BLUSHING omfg. SENPAI NOTICED YOU SWEETIE!!!

HAWKS YOU HAVE ABSOLUTELY ZERO OBLIGATION TO WASTE ANOTHER SECOND OF YOUR LIFE WORRYING ABOUT THESE TWO ASSHOLES WHO NEVER SPARED YOU THE SLIGHTEST BIT OF REGARD OR CONCERN IN THEIR ENTIRE LIVES. THE NICEST THING YOUR MOM EVER DID FOR YOU WAS BUY YOU A $2 ENDEAVOR PLUSH FROM THE DISCOUNT BIN TO KEEP YOU QUIET, AND YOU WERE SO AWED BY THAT ONE ACT OF SORTA KINDA APPROXIMATE KINDNESS THAT YOU SHAPED YOUR ENTIRE WORLDVIEW AROUND IT. PLEASE LET ME PICK YOU UP IN A BIG HUG FOR JUST A SEC, YOU DESERVE THE WORLD AND YOU WERE ONE THOUSAND PERCENT JUSTIFIED IN LEAVING THEM IN THE DUST THE SECOND THAT YOU COULD

but all that said, he immediately recognizes that Shouto would also have had cause to do the same in his situation, and yet hasn’t. and so he has that much more admiration for him all of a sudden, which is just super sweet, and fully appropriate. Shouto does deserve props. I’m choosing to take this as an “it takes a lot of strength to be able to forgive, and people who choose to do that even though they’re not obligated to are really amazing" type of thing, as opposed to “people who don’t forgive other people who severely wronged them are bad.” and if I’m wrong and Hawks’s line here is meant to be seen as actual failing on his part, well then fuck that, but we’ll move on

SO NOW, DOWN TO BUSINESS!

I am so, so curious as to what kind of strategy Hawks has for this (if he even has any), so I’ll just be quiet now and read

so Hawks is summing up basically what we already knew -- that Tomura and his inner circle (curious that there’s no mention of AFO, because if Hawks doesn’t know about him, that implies almost no one does) are still on the lam with a few PLF stragglers and some High Ends; that a bunch of prisons have been “liberated” (I assume this means all of the inmates escaped, so if that’s the case then where’s Kurogiri??); that the HPSC is fucked; and that heroes are resigning all over the place, and so civilians are taking matters into their own hands

OH DAMN!?

does this mean we’ll actually see some international heroes?? I will LOSE MY DAMN SHIT omg

(ETA: apparently people who paid more attention to the first BnHA movie than I did recognized the silhouettes as belonging to some background characters from Two Heroes. so maybe they were just cameos and they’re not actually new characters who are soon to join us lol. oh well.)

anyway so Hawks agrees with the other Todorokis that Endeavor has no choice but to fight

awww

DON’T WORRY ENJI THEY’VE GOT YOUR BACK. WITH YOUR FLAMES, AND JEANIST’S PUNS, AND HAWKS’S BOYISHLY GOOD LOOKS, THE THREE OF YOU CAN DO ANYTHING YOU SET YOUR MINDS TO

so Enji is very pertinently asking why they’re standing by him in spite of the... [gestures vaguely to everything]

oh my lordy lord

Shouto you had better do something to combat this soon, or this man will sneak past you on my favorite character ranking after all. his face. his cheeky lil finger gun. the fact that he sums it up so fucking simply. “if someone is trying to do the right thing, I want to support them.” exactly. exactly

(ETA: and one last thing I love but forgot to mention, which is the fact that Hawks calls it a team-up despite the fact that he is clearly in charge.)

meanwhile Jeanist is all “as for me, at this point I just straight up don’t give a fuck”

I can’t handle how fucking cool this chapter is you guys

so Hawks is all “you good?” at Enji. and Enji...

if anyone needs me, I will be building myself a discourse-proof fort made entirely out of problematic characters. I don’t even care. I will go on living my life very happily in here

lol at Natsu being all “BUT DON’T THINK THIS MAKES US FRIENDS”

I’m living for this weird and no-doubt entirely unintended implication that Natsu and them all are gonna join in the fight with the rest of them. I mean, they do presumably all have very powerful ice quirks. and Natsu has medical training on top of that, and Fuyu is skilled at getting eight-year-olds to behave which could be a useful talent for dealing with Tomura hahaha I kid, but I’M JUST SAYING. who needs hero licenses anyway

OH SHIT FINALLY SOME DISCUSSION OF AN ACTUAL STRATEGY. even if it’s just a PR strategy

WHAKLHL

and now for some reason we’re flashing back to Natsu and Fuyu’s attempts to navigate through the media crowd outside the hospital

well I guess this is why I’m not the mangaka. if I were writing this I would have done something trite and predictable like using that “One for All” line as an excuse to cut to Deku!! as opposed to this entirely unrelated scene!!

seriously though why do we need to see this lol

no one in this crowd has ever heard of Alexander Dumas huh. or even the popular 2007 Disney Channel original movie, High School Musical 2

so now there’s an entire page of Hawks saying they need to know what One for All is, and Endeavor having one of those patented Todoroki WHOOSH realizations lmao look at this

just wait until this man figures out that one of the scrappy new interns he took on three months ago was actually the main character all along

SKDFIOHWIERLKSJGLWLK!!

NOW IS PROBABLY A GOOD TIME TO ASK MYSELF WHY I CHOSE THIS CHARACTER WHO KEEPS DISAPPEARING FOR SIX OR TWELVE OR FORTY CHAPTERS AT A TIME TO BE MY FUCKING FAVORITE. WELCOME BACK SON PLEASE DON’T SCREAM YOURSELF TO DEATH YOU STILL HAVE A HOLE IN YOUR TORSO

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

(ETA: can we just take a moment to appreciate how Bakugou even got so close to Deku’s room in the first place though. in this giant hospital with no idea of where to even go. does he have Deku Radar or something.)

YOU SIX ARE OFFICIALLY ON MY HIT LIST!! SPARE ME YOUR GOOD INTENTIONS!! MY BAKUDEKU REUNION KEEPS GETTING POSTPONED WEEK AFTER WEEK!! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE HEROES WHERE IS YOUR CONCEPT OF MERCY

(ETA: btw just to be clear, I’m not actually angry lol; it makes total sense that they don’t want this rampaging feral toddler who was still in his own coma all of fifteen minutes ago to come and start screaming at the other coma child until he tears all his stitches out. if there’s anything we Bakugou fans should be familiar with by now, it’s being patient.)

also, Tsuyu wrapping her tongue around Bakugou’s still-healing torso wound absolutely can’t be hygienic at all. also wait is that Inko??

(ETA: pretty sure it is her. she got all of one line smdh.)

Iida is all “thank god Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight pulled through, I thought for sure he was a goner back there”

for the record this is actually really sweet to see how relieved he is. he’s one of the few people who saw the original injury close up, back when he was still at the battlefield and unconscious, so I imagine it really did freak him out quite a bit

JIROUUUUUU

“sometimes I just like to stand here and tug on my imaginary suspenders, what of it”

how come you guys get to loiter around Deku’s room but Kacchan doesn’t. god fucking dammit. AND WHAT DOES THIS EVEN MEAN

I BET KACCHAN COULD WAKE HIM UP FROM HIS COMA WITH THE POWER OF RIVAL INTENSITY!! BUT NOOOOOOOO, [is dragged away back to my fort]

OH MY GOD!?!

"this seems to be an entirely normal and above-board situation that we have just stumbled onto”

I see Jeanist comes from the Iida Tenya school of respectfully using people’s full names

Jeanist becoming one of the main characters is the best thing to ever happen to this series

EXCUSE YOU, IIDA

BUT I’M SURE HE’D MAKE AN EXCEPTION FOR KACCHAN THOUGH!! [elbowing my way back out of the fort] HAWKS, PLEASE --

DON’T GO ALL OMINIOUSLY PUTTING THE PIECES TOGETHER ALL ON YOUR OWN GODDAMMIT

“there’s absolutely no way this angry wriggling shoulder burrito kid here could answer literally all of my questions, so I’ll just ignore him”

OH MY GOD WE’RE FINALLY CUTTING BACK TO HIM BUT THE CHAPTER IS ENDING

[jumps up, throws a folding chair at Iida and the rest of the gang, and then runs]

oh my god. actually this chapter was awesome. but I’m so fucking mad at this cliffhanger though lol

at least we got a couple of answers! and some hints and teases! poor Deku looks so worn out even though he’s asleep dlwkjl my little green baby. and is it just me or is his quirk activated?? All Might’s all “I can feel it” as if it isn’t obvious just looking at him, why are you trying to be all mysterious dude

anyway! so at least we finally have confirmation and a date for those vestige antics at long last. looking forward to meeting Mister The Fourth next week so we can finally ask him “hey dude, what the fuck”

[pan-fangirl-345]

In Every Universe, Forever and Always

Summary: You and Hinata have a very long history together. Across worlds, universes, and timelines, love always finds a way.

Or: A reincarnation/ soulmate AU with Hinata Shouyo and different times you have met and fallen in love.

A/N: I have no idea where the idea for this came from, but I'm now down to only five drafts and WIP, so stay tuned my lovelies!

TW: Murder, blood, bullying, fighting, violence, one (1) implied question about rape (none occurs), swearing, and no proofreading. If I missed anything, let me know!

The first time you had met Hinata Shouyo, neither of you had had names. You had been drifting presences, with no corporeal forms. It was hard to explain how it felt, what it was like. It was being everywhere, but belonging nowhere. It was being able to sense everything, but not touch it. Like someone breathing down the back of your neck but no one standing behind you.

He was a bright light, something that forced away the darkness. He had drifted from galaxy to galaxy, from blank space to blank space, spreading his light, even if some lasted longer than others.

Later, he told you that he wasn't sure what he was searching for, or if he had been searching for anything, but he had secretly hoped that he was searching for you.

He had been alone for his entire existence, but as he drifted, he found you.

You were a softer light than his, not as bright, and not nearly as warm, but you were there, and after such a long time of being alone, it was a great relief to know that he wasn't alone anymore.

He had slowly fallen in love with you, even if there hadn't been a term for it at the time, and you had fallen for him too.

But all too suddenly, there was another being, but it was something much darker than you and Hinata, it swallowed light and destroyed warmth. It was malevolent brutality compared to the kind gentleness that you and Hinata radiated.

You and Hinata had fled from the new being, trying to rekindle the lights that the being had extinguished, but it was no use.

Eventually, it caught up with you.

Instead of surrendering peacefully, you and Hinata fought together, trying to keep it at bay, but your light wasn't as strong as Hinata's, and you fell to the being before Hinata could reach you.

Overcome by grief at your loss, Hinata used everything he had in him to destroy the being, casting his light as far in every direction as possible, using every emotion in his arsenal.

Neither of you remembered whether you had defeated the being or not.

The next time you both remember having met, you were gods.

Hinata was once again a bright light, the humans worshipped him as the sun god, and he was indeed worthy of the title.

You, on the other hand, were the goddess of violent deaths. Humans feared your wrath, and the other gods isolated you because of the humans fear. You were the patron goddess of assassins, murderers, thieves, and sometimes considered the goddess of revenge as well.

Feared in the human realms and despised among the other heavenly beings, you fled into the sky.

You saw the galaxies the humans were ignorant to, you turned away from the worlds with intelligent life for fear of being called upon, and you slowly realized that you could create, as well as destroy.

Every time you accidentally ended the life of a star, you created something else. Sometimes it was a hole that sucked in everything, and even you had no idea where it ended, but sometimes other worlds were born, other galaxies were made.

Hinata, sick and tired of the other heavenly beings that flocked to him, ran from the heavenly realms, stumbling upon you.

You had tried to flee from him, worried how he would react to you, but instead he asked you to stay.

"But why?" you had asked, tucking yourself away behind a small star, ready to flee if he attempted to harm you.

"I remember you," he had said, ignoring your question. "The pretty little goddess that so many feared."

You winced at the reminder of your past, moving to hurry away, but Hinata had simply wrapped a hand around your wrist.

"Please stay," he begged.

"But . . . I might hurt you," you had whimpered.

"Nonsense," Hinata had said, so confidently that you had almost believed him. "Those aren't your abilities."

You had been so confused that you had stayed while Hinata explained that you weren't the one that caused the deaths, you were the one that went to the deathbed of the victim to ease them into death.

Hinata was the first person to see you as the one that ended the suffering, not the one that caused it.

Hinata had stayed with you for millennia, earning your trust, and falling for you yet again.

Somehow, along the way, you had fallen in love with him too.

"Come back with me," he begged, arms around your waist as you both laid among the stars.

"I can't," you told him. "I'm not welcome there. I'm feared by the humans, and the others are disgusted by what I am."

"You're beautiful, and you relieve the pain of those that are suffering. Why would they be disgusted by you?"

"Because no one else sees me the way you do, my love," you had said, stroking his face lightly. "They see me as some repulsive, but necessary, nuisance. They keep me around because someone needs to do the job, but they don't want to be the ones to do it."

"Come back with me so we can prove them wrong," Hinata pleaded. "I'm the king of the heavens, I can make you my queen! Then they would have to respect you!"

"I envy your faith in them, my king," you murmured, giving him a small smile. "But sometimes I think you are blind to the darkness in people."

"And you cannot seem to see the light in others," Hinata had countered.

In the end, you had returned to the heavenly realms with him, only to be met with the scorn and repulsion that you had been expecting.

Some accused you of manipulating him, others said that Hinata stayed with you because he was scared of you, of what you might do.

After only a year, you couldn't take it anymore.

You slipped away from the bed you and Hinata had been sharing.

You had drawn the words 'Forever and always' on his chest, right above his heart, kissing it, before you fled.

You would remember later that the other gods had been plotting against you since your return.

One lower level D-list goddess had gone around slaughtering your fellow heavenly beings, planting evidence that you had done it.

A guard had 'caught you fleeing the scene in guilt', and forced you to your knees in front of the mastermind behind it all.

You and Hinata had, over the years you had spent together, remembered your previous life, and had reminisced over it in your time among the stars.

No one had anticipated Hinata fighting so hard for you.

He raged against his former bootlickers, defending you against everything.

One of the war gods became irritated with his staunch protection of you.

In an attempt to end it, the god had attempted to kill you with a throwing knife.

Hinata had other plans, and had jumped in front of the blade, which sank into his chest, right where you had traced the words earlier before you had attempted to flee to your former sanctuary.

Your screams had echoed through the gold and marble hallways of the heavenly realms as Hinata hit the floor in a spray of blood.

Everyone else was so in shock that you had been able to wrench free of the guards and get to him.

"Hina, my love, stay with me," you had pleaded, cradling Hinata's body against your own. "Please, stay with me. I love you, please."

"Forever and always," Hinata had gasped, touching his wound softly. "Promise me."

"I promise," you had murmured, smoothing his hair away from his face.

In the background, the other gods were fighting amongst themselves, arguing over who had started it, whether it was justified, and it felt as though you and Hinata were in your own little bubble.

"We'll meet again," Hinata had promised, wincing in pain.

Healing wasn't your specialty, you had never had anyone to teach you, and you hated yourself now more than ever as Hinata bled out in your arms.

"I know we will," you replied, kissing his forehead. "Nothing will keep me away."

"I'm glad you're here," he murmured, touching your cheek lightly, softly, despite the blood on his fingers. "I told you, you relieve the pain, you don't cause it."

"Hina, Hina, stay with me, please, you can't leave me here," you pleaded. "Hina!"

Tears streamed down your face as Hinata faded into a soft, warm, golden light that settled over you for a moment before disappearing.

You heard something inside your chest crack, and you were pretty sure, later, that it was the sound of your heart breaking open and bleeding that echoed in your ears.

Your screaming drew the attention of the other gods, and soon they had turned on you, despite the obviously genuine grief you were experiencing.

Someone reached out to touch you, but they stopped when the palace around them shuttered, granite and marble cracked, and something deep underneath them groaned like a beast roaring.

Fear settled over the group of heavenly beings like a dark cloud.

Tears streamed down your face as the last of Hinata's warmth faded.

Darkness leaked from you and something in you snapped.

These beings deserved no mercy from you. Not after what they had done, not after what they had caused.

Most gods experimented with their powers as they grew older, but you had never done that. You had tried to rein them all in, and only ever used them when they were close to destroying you.

With Hinata gone, there was nothing left in this world for you.

You erupted.

Every repressed cursed, every welled up power, forced out with the fury of an immortal being.

Screams rang throughout the heavens as you fractured the seams of the world, extinguished the humans below and detonated stars that you had loved so dearly before Hinata had appeared.

Of all the screams that were resonating about, yours was the loudest.

The sorrow, the anguish, the anger and disappointment, the love, the indifference all mixed together in a cacophony of rage and loss.

In this world, it really did end in screams.

The next time you and Hinata crossed paths, you were known as the Queen of the underworld.

Hinata was the Captain of the Royal Guard, and he had been tasked with tracking you down and putting a stop to you.

He had found you at a masquerade, dressed in scarlet, a burnt gold mask hiding the top half of your face.

Posing as a contact, you danced with him, until he finally figured out who you were.

"My orders are to take you back to the castle," Hinata had said. "There are people within the walls that seem to think you are one of the purest evils on these streets."

"You think differently?" you had asked.

"I've noticed that of all of your victims, none of them were ever children or mothers."

"So?"

"I don't think that you're evil, I think there's more to you than you or anyone else thinks."

"Is that so?"

Hinata had nodded, keeping an arm firmly around your waist, hand in yours.

"Come to the palace with me, help me, and I can help you," Hinata had said.

"Let me leave this party and I'll be able to help you from my own home," you had bargained.

"Meet me one a week at a neutral location," Hinata had argued.

"Deal," you had said, "but no other guards, no weapons, just two people."

"Just two people," he had agreed.

You may have been the Queen of the underworld, but you were a woman of your word.

You and Hinata met once a week for two years before you decided to go with him to the castle.

"Hinata, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Would you like to meet my son?"

That had stopped Hinata dead in his tracks.

At first, you were worried that he was going to be angry, but instead he seemed concerned for your safety.

"How old is he?" Hinata asked.

"Two years old," you admitted. "I had just had him when we first met."

"Was . . . did you . . . ."

Hinata, unable to ask the real question, seemed to be praying you understood.

"I thought his father loved me," you murmured, laying a hand on your stomach absently. "I was seventeen when we met. He was only three years older than me, and he had connections that I could use to my advantage. He didn't know who -or what I suppose- I was. When I found out I was pregnant, I thought he would be happy, I thought we would get married.

"Instead, when I told him, he beat me so badly I almost miscarried, and left me for dead in the streets. My loyal men found me, made sure I was cared for, and killed the father. I promised myself that I would never let another man in like that. And then I met you. You, despite your position, didn't want anything other than information from me. You wanted to help the people on the streets and put a stop to the corruption."

You glanced at Hinata, at those warm brown eyes.

Memories flashed behind your eyes, and you gave him a small smile.

"Have you started to remember yet?" you asked him quietly.

In the last three lifetimes, his eyes were always the same color. His hair and face shape were different, as were his height, and sometimes his personality, just like you, but his eyes were the same warm shade of brown.

"I wasn't sure whether you remembered or not," he murmured, nodding.

"I remember everything."

"It's nice to meet you again, (Y/N)."

"Hello to you too Hinata Shouyo."

You, your son, and Hinata were all assassinated in your bed during your first night at the castle.

The last words you said to each other were 'Forever and always'.

More lifetimes passed, more meetings, more deaths, more children, until this lifetime.

You were the manager for Seijoh, and -ironically enough- Kageyama's twin sister, despite looking almost nothing like him.

"Hey, Hinata Boke! Why are you drooling over my sister like that?" the setter snapped, drawing Hinata, and you, out of your memories.

"Ease up Tobio," you had chided, hitting your brother's shoulder lightly before holding your hand out to Shouyo.

"(Y/N), nice to meet you Hinata."

Hinata could read the unspoken 'again' in your eyes.

"You too, (Y/L/N)," he said, not bothering to hide the smile that was spreading across his face.

Every lifetime, every universe, you were destined to fall in love with Hinata Shouyo.

Sometimes you were enemies, sometimes you were friends, sometimes you were strangers, but in the end, you were his, just like he was yours.

Forever and always.

[hoboal87]

In Secret

Title: In Secret

Pairing: Jensen x F!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Jensen have been in a secret relationship for five years, and she wants more.

Warnings: Angst, Affair, Open Relationship, Oral (F receiving), Implied Smut, Jensen Is A Bit Of An Ass

A/N: This is my entry for @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ “Make Me Swoon” writing challenge!  My prompt is “I’m tired of being your secret.” 

A/N 2: Y’all, I never expected such an overwhelming positive response to this one-shot! This will soon be a multi-part series, I’ve already started working on the next part, but I don’t know if I’ll get anything posted before Elastic Heart is complete. 

A/N 3: THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS COMMENTED/REBLOGGED/ASKED TO BE TAGGED!

No Beta all mistakes are mine.

The air is thick around you, the smell of sex filling every inch of your room. You could die just like this, here, with the man you love, holding you tight against him as you both come down from your highs. He rolls you both over, his hand gently rubbing over your stomach, inching down to your sore and swollen pussy. You groan when he dips a finger into wet heat.

“I love cumming in you,” he whispers, gently biting at your ear, and you can feel his smile. “Wish I could do it every day.” He starts pumping his finger, tightening the coil again, and you bite back another moan.

“Mmm,” you hum as he sinks another finger in, his thumb brushes over your clit. You reach behind you, palming his half-hard cock. “You could, y'know.”

The atmosphere between you changes in an instant, he huffs, and pulls away from you, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. You should’ve known this is how he would react, every time you breach the subject it always ends the same way. The guilt you both feel, the lying, all of it comes to the surface, rearing its ugly head.

“Just tell her,“ you beg as he leaves your bed. "That’s the whole point of your agreement, isn’t it?” He doesn’t respond, reaching down to grab his once hastily discarded jeans off the floor. “She gets to fuck whoever she wants and so do you.”

“This is different, Y/N. You know that,” he sighs and steps into his jeans.

“Why?” You sit up, using the sheet to keep yourself covered. “Tell me, Jensen. Why is this different? Why is okay for her to think that your out fucking some random girl instead of me?”

“Y/N,” Jensen turns around, his emerald eyes staring you down. “It’s more complicated than that. We-” he gestures between you, “we have a history. You don’t think she knows about our past?”

“Our past?” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “We were friends. There’s nothing in our past, we didn’t even start any of this until after you two were together. You had years- years Jay, to do something about that. You knew how I felt about you, but instead you jumped from girl to girl and I was the one who had to put you back together, she doesn’t get to take all the credit.”

This isn’t the first time you’ve had this fight with Jensen. Every time they go on hiatus you beg him to stay just a few days longer, knowing that it would be almost two months before he’d be back. You know deep down that it isn’t fair, he spends nine months out of the year in Vancouver, and when he’s here it’s almost like you’re a normal couple. Almost. You and Jensen couldn’t go out in public, not even as “friends,” all it would take was one ill-timed photo to throw both of your worlds into utter chaos.

Being the other woman came with its own set of rules. When it all started you were just happy to be able to be with him, even if that meant it began and ended at the threshold of your home. When you were together you were the only two people in the world, you didn’t discuss her or the fact that she was pregnant. You, in particular, were allowing yourself to live in ignorant bliss cherishing everything he had to give you. You never thought you were the type of person who’d be having an affair with anyone, let alone Jensen, but you can’t help yourself from falling into bed with him every time he comes over.

You’d gone to high school together, and for four years you waited patiently for him to ask you out on a date. Instead, he dated one of your friends, biting your tongue when he told you about their relationship ending; you knew it wouldn’t last.

You went your separate ways after high-school, you’d stayed in Texas to go to college, and he’d gone off to Hollywood, you’d kept in touch through the years. Reconnecting when you’d moved to Vancouver for your job. It started out as harmless flirting, double entendres, and teasing.

The first time you slept together it wasn’t something either of you had planned. She was in L.A. working on her latest movie, and you were still on the rebound from your latest break-up. It was a night of too many drinks and loneliness drove your actions. You kept your distance from each other in the weeks that followed, sorting out your feelings, unsure if it was a one-time drunken mistake or the start of something real.

The second time you were both sober. He’d come over to discuss what happened; how he would never cheat on her, he was in love with her, he wanted to marry her. You tried to understand, Jensen was always a fantasy, someone who you could never have. You didn’t want to ruin your friendship with him over sex. You both agreed to put it behind you, never discuss it again, “pretend it never happened,” he insisted. It nearly killed you, but you nodded hesitantly.

He reached out to squeeze your knee, and you made your way towards the front door. You fidgeted with your hands as you entered the front walkway, not wanting him to leave. There was a hesitation as Jensen reached for the doorknob, and you pulled him in for a hug, melting your body into him. Before you knew what was happening, your lips were on his, wanting, needing more. He had you caged against the wall, hands pawing at you, lifting you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist and he ground himself against you. His mouth never left yours as he carried you to your bedroom, dropping you playfully on the bed.

Jensen rid himself of his shirt while you shed your own, desperate to have his skin against yours. The first time was messy, rushed, this time you wanted to take your time, appreciate every moment that you were having with him. He placed sweet wet kisses over your breasts, making his way down, tugging at your jeans to expose your soaked panties. You lifted your hips as he hooked his fingers around them, pulling them along with your jeans down, tossing them onto the floor.

Jensen placed gentle kisses on the inside of your thighs, you could feel him smiling against your skin as he moved towards your aching pussy. His eyes met yours, giving you a final chance to stop him. “Please, Jay,” you murmured. Each swipe of his tongue was pure ecstasy, you reached down for him, holding his face closer to you.

You try to clench your legs around him, but he keeps them apart, eyes flicking up at you as you fall apart. He continues his assault on your cunt, removing one hand, and teasing you with his finger. You groaned as it slid through your folds up to your clit, pressing down as his tongue fucked into you. Unable to make any intelligible sounds, you heard a low chuckle come from him as two fingers entered your weeping hole.

He pumped them fast, spurring you on as you felt the coil tightening. You felt yourself clenching around him and you breathing grew heavier, his fingers finding your sweet spot, brushing it again and again as his mouth focused on your bundle of nerves. You lost all control of yourself when he added a third finger, cumming hard on his face.

“Fuck,” you moaned as he pulled away. He climbed up your body, placing wet kisses over you until he was hovering above you. His cock was hard and ready, precum leaking from the tip, you gently wrapped your hand around him, and he let out a soft groan as you slowly began to pump him. He kissed you passionately and you could taste the release of your climax on his lips.

“I love you, Jay,” you whimper. It wasn’t something you were ever planning on admitting to him, or to yourself, but you couldn’t stop the words from leaving. “I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he whispered in your ear as you guided him towards your entrance. Jensen’s eyes bore deep into you, studying your face as you took in his words.

“Please, Jay,” you begged, “fuck me.”

Jensen doesn’t move; you know he doesn’t have an answer.

“I’m tired of being your secret,” you huff. “It’s been five years.”

“Goddammit, Y/N!” He shouts, throwing his hands into his hair. “She’s my wife, the mother of my children. You want me to throw it all away?”

You try to stammer out a response, but he continues, pacing in front your bed.

“You act like this is easy for me, it isn’t. I told you after that second time, I’m never going to leave her. You said you could accept that. That’s the only reason we continued this. She’s paranoid enough about you as it is, and you want me to tell her that we’ve been sleeping together for the past five years, how do you think that will make her feel?”

“How will it make her feel?” you scoff. “What about how I feel? My feelings don’t matter?”

“That’s not what I said, Y/N.”

“I’ve kept my feelings to myself for years, Jay. I’ve tried to be understanding, I haven’t asked you for anything. I don’t push the subject, but I’m tired, Jay.”

He paces in front of you, muttering to himself.

“I want you, Jay, you’re all I’ve ever wanted,” you whisper, it’s something you both know, but you never planned to say it out loud. “I broke up with Steven for you.”

“He never deserved you, sweetheart,” he says, and a smile creeps upon your face. For a moment you think that he’ll admit that he wants more with you.

"You never like anyone I date, Jay,” you chuckle slightly, “I think it because you’re jealous.”

Jensen’s body stiffens, and you know immediately that he doesn’t like your joke. He grabs his shirt off the dresser and pulls it over his head before storming out of the room.

“Jensen, babe, I was just-” you follow him out, quickly pulling on a camisole and yoga pants, not bothering with underwear. “Jay, it was a joke.”

“We both know it wasn’t Y/N,“ he snaps back and your smile quickly fades. "You think I like watching you parade with some douche? You wanna slut around with some fuckin’ prick, I ain’t gonna stop you.”

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, Jay,” you hiss. “You don’t get to act like some jealous boyfriend. You’ve made it very clear just now, that I am not your girlfriend or whatever you wanna call this.”

“You’re right, babygirl, I’m not,” he huffs, “and I’m never going to be. I’m never going to be yours, Y/N. If I wanted that, I would’ve made my move a long time ago.” Jensen’s words are like stabs to your heart, and you try to conceal the tears forming in your eyes. “I chose her over you, I’ll always choose her over you.”

There’s a flash of regret playing on his face. There they were; the words that you knew were coming sooner or later. You’d hoped he’d never say them, that the two of you could go on the way you had been for years in denial. He remains stoic as you use every ounce of willpower to not break down in front of him.

"We’re never gonna be more than this, Y/N,” he says softly. “You have to know that.”

“Y'know Jay, if you wanted this to stay casual,” you wipe the tears away, “all you had to do was say so. You’re so concerned about her, but she’s in Austin ‘slutting around’ as you delicately put it, sleeping with who knows how many people-”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N!” Jensen screamed, and your heart fell into your stomach. He’s never yelled at you like this before, you pushed him too far this time, letting your own jealousy take over. “Don’t talk about what goes on in my relationship with my wife. She is nothing like you, she doesn’t spread her legs every time someone gives her the time of day.”

“You fucking asshole!” You yell, picking up everything that you could get your hands on, and throwing it at him. “Get the fuck out!”

“Y/N,” he tries to reason with you, blocking himself from the barrage of items being thrown at him. “Baby, listen.”

“No!” You push him towards the front door and he stumbles backwards into the hallway.

“Y/N,” Jensen reaches out to soothe you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t touch me,” you slap his hand away. “You’re never gonna touch me again,” you push him again, moving him closer to the door. “You can go back to your perfect wife, your perfect family. Congratulations, Jay. You don’t have to choose. We’re done.”

Part 2

[impala666]

The One With The Stoned Guy Part Two (Amuse Bouche)

Sorry it took so long! But here is the next part to the Friends Rewrite. I’m just kind of writing when I find time. Enjoy all!!!!!!

Last Part (Part One), Series Masterlist

It was the next morning and the night before was the first night where you actually slept at Bryan’s apartment, you didn’t even go to yours and Ross’s apartment. But no you found yourself walking toward Monica and Rachel’s apartment for early breakfast before everyone went off to work or in your case school and the work. “Good morning,” you cheered with a smile. Everyone in the living room bid you a good morning in return while Joey sat there and stared at you with that same sad dog expression. So Ross must have told him that you never went home. “So, I heard you didn’t make it home last night.” Rachel confirmed your suspicions, but apparently Ross just decided to up and tell everybody.

“Yeah, last night was my first night actually staying there,” you smiled brightly at her when you thought about all of the adventures that you had with Bryan.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Rachel asked as she scrunched up her face and came closer to you to make your conversation a bit more private. You were about to answer her when all of a sudden the apartment door slammed from behind you. 

“Can you see my nipples through this shirt?” Your big brother asked after he entered. He made sure to lift up his suit jacket so that all of you could have a good look. 

“No,” Rachel answered for him as she carefully looked. “But don’t worry I’m sure they’re still there.” You laughed at her harmless joke. 

“Where’re you going Mr. Suity-Man?” Phoebe asked him from her spot in the living room next to Ross.

“Well,” Chandler reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. “I have an appointment to see Dr. Robert Pillman, career counselor a-go-go.” You listened to him as you took a seat on the couch, but realized that you sat too close to Joey like you used to. So you had to awkwardly slide in the opposite direction no matter if it made you a little upset and Joey very. “I added the a-go-go.” Chandler emphasized as all of them ignored the thing that just happened. 

“A career counselor?” Rachel asked him, wondering why he was going to see this guy. 

“Hey, you guys all know what you want to do.” Chandler whined to you all as he started to get defensive. 

“I don’t,” Rachel chimed in. 

“Hey, you guys in the living room all know what you want to do. You have goals, you have dreams. I don’t have a dream!” Chandler declared. But no matter how serious he tried to come across as, you all still found it a little funny. 

“Ah, the lesser-known “I don’t have a dream,” speech.” Ross called Chandler out on his mistake. 

“Y/N/N?” Chandler asked and placed his hand on your shoulder so that you would turn in your seat and look at him. “How did you know you wanted to go to Esthetician school?” He only asked because you had taken such a big leap to follow your dreams even if it made a few other people unhappy.

“I don’t know really. I just never really enjoyed or got into anything that I was learning while I went to college. But I always enjoyed skin and skincare and makeup, so once I actually found a career in it. I just decided to go for it.” You explained. “And even though it was terrifying at first, I know that it was the perfect decision.” Chandler couldn’t find words, he was just so proud and jealous of you. He just wished that he could find something that he was just as passionate about. 

“Oh, I love my life! I love my life!” Monica cheered as she had just gotten back from an interview with that restaurant guy. She was beaming from ear to ear and it looked like it hurt. 

“Oh, Brian’s Song.” Phoebe guessed, thinking that Monica was quoting a song. 

“The meeting with that guy went great?” Rachel asked her after Phoebe’s strange outburst. 

“It was so great. He showed me where the restaurant’s going to be. It’s this cute little place on 10th Street; it’s not too big, it’s not too small. It’s just right.” Monica beamed as she shared her experience for her new job opportunity. 

“Was it formerly owned by by a blonde woman and some bears?” Chandler joked, when Monica accidentally quoted the famous nursery rhyme. 

“So, anyway I’m cooking dinner for him Monday night. You know, kind of like an audition.” Monica continued as she just ignored everything that Chandler just said. “And Phoebe he really wants you to be there,” she explained as she made her way over to the woman in the living room. “Which would be great for me because then you can make oh’s and ah’s and you can make yummy noises.”

“What’re you going to make?” Rachel asked Monica. 

“Yummy noises,” Phoebe answered instead, acting like it was obvious.

“And Monica, what are you gonna make?” You asked, changing the question to one that everyone could understand. 

“I don’t know. It’s just got to be so great.” Monica answered you as she walked over to her shelf of cookbooks to try and come up with some ideas. 

“Oh! I know what you should make.” Phoebe announced as she ran over to join Monica and Rachel in the kitchen. Almost knocking you down in the process as you made your way over to them, as well. “You should make that thing with the stuff.” Phoebe said as she sprinkled imaginary spices into her hand. “You know that...thing.” She just couldn’t think of it. But Phoebe could tell she wasn’t getting through to any of you. “Okay, I don’t know.” She finally gave up. 

“Hey, guys. Does anyone know a good date place in the neighborhood?” Ross asked, changing the subject. 

“Uh, how about Tony’s?” Joey suggested, and seeing as you used to date him you could see where this was going. “If you can finish a 32 ounce steak, it’s free.” Ross looked up at you for confirmation to see if he ever took you there.

“Yeah, no. That was the date from hell.” You felt bad for saying so, but it was true. 

“You said you loved it!” Joey whined. 

“Yeah, but we couldn’t finish because no human can, so you got upset and left, sticking me with the cheque.” He treated you like a queen, but you had to call a spade a spade. That date stunk. 

“Okay, does anyone know a good place if you’re not dating a puma?” Ross asked again as he joked at Joey’s answer. 

“Who are you going out with?” Chandler asked him with a chuckle. 

“Oh! Is this the bug lady?” Phoebe asked Ross. 

“I love you, Ross.” Rachel joked as she started buzzing like a bug and using her fingers as antennas. 

“Her name is Celia. She’s not a bug lady. She’s curator of insects at the museum.” Ross defended. 

“So a bug lady?” You asked since Ross was trying to be technical, but he knew that you were messing around. 

“So, what’re you guys gonna do?” Monica asked as she flipped through a cookbook at the table. 

“I just thought we’d go out to dinner and then bring her back to my place and I’d introduce her to my monkey.” Ross sounded like he was 100% joking but when you looked at him his face was serious. 

“And he’s not speaking metaphorically.” Chandler mumbled to himself. 

“So, back to your place. You’re thinking maybe, heh-heh?” Joey asked Ross as he implied sex. 

“Well, I don’t know heh-heh.” Ross said under his breath to Joey. “I’m hoping heh-heh. So Y/N can you steer clear of the apartment tonight.” You nodded even though you had nowhere to go since Monica had her dinner tonight and you and Joey were broken up. You would have to just go back to Bryan’s, oh well. Too bad. 

“I’m telling you-that monkey is a chick magnet. She’s going to take one look at his furry cute little face and it’ll seal the deal.” Joey promised him. 

*******

It was later in the evening, all of you were back at Monica and Rachel’s while Monica tried out some new recipes to have all of you try. Joey, Phoebe, and Rachel sat at the kitchen table. While you and Bryan sat alone in the living room. You really were surprised at how well everyone was getting along with Bryan, including Joey. They weren’t really best friends because clearly Joey still harbored some feelings, but they were able to be in a room together. That was all you could ask for. The both of you sat on the couch talking with Bryan’s arm wrapped around your shoulders. Bryan was about to continue the fire story that he had been meaning to tell you, but he jumped out of his seat when the apartment door slammed shut from an aggressive force. “Oh, my God. What happened to you?” Rachel asked, you kneeled on the sofa to turn and look who had entered. It was Chandler with his shirt unbuttoned slightly and tie loose, with a stack of folders looking he had had a day. 

“8 and a half hours of aptitude tests, intelligence tests, personality tests and what do I learn?” Chandler also seemed a little on edge. “You are ideally suited for a career in data processing for a large multinational cooperation.” Chandler read off of the test result that he had gotten. 

“That’s so great! Because you already know how to do that!” You cheered him on sarcastically. Bryan chuckling quietly as he looked up at you. 

“Can you believe it? Don’t I seem like somebody who should be doing something really cool?” Chandler asked all of you as he paced along the kitchen, half-heartedly waving to Bryan without looking at him. “I just always pictured myself doing something…something.” Chandler frowned down at the floor as he lightly stomped his foot.  

“Oh, Chandler, I know.” Rachel got up from her seat and half hugged the man as she patted him on his chest. “I know. Oh, hey! You can see your nipples through this shirt.” But Rachel’s realization did not seem to help Chandler as he turned his head and glared down at the woman. 

“Here you go. Maybe this will cheer you up.” Monica tried as she offered Chandler a plate of mini food. 

“Ohh, you know I had a grape about five hours ago. So I better split this with you.” He joked again as he tried to push passed his disappointing day. 

“It’s supposed to be that small, it’s a pre-appetizer. The French called it an Amuse Bouche.” Monica taught all of you. So Chandler took one for the team and popped one into his mouth, when suddenly he wasn’t as upset at the moment. 

“Well, it is amoozing.” Chandler joked even though he couldn’t help but get where Monica was coming from. 

“You’re friends are so weird.” Bryan said quietly to you as he deeply chuckled. 

“I know,” you beamed. “Isn’t it amazing.” You smiled at him in return and Bryan wrapped an arm around your waist as he pecked a kiss to your forehead. 

“Hello?” Monica said as she answered the phone that had started to ring a couple seconds ago. “Oh, hi, Wendy. Yeah 8 o’clock. What did we say, ten dollars an hour? Okay, great. I’ll see you then. Bye.” Monica hung up the quick phone call and you couldn’t help but notice the hurt and surprised look on Rachel’s face. 

“Ten dollars an hour for what?” Phoebe asked, before Rachel could jump to conclusions. 

“Oh, I asked one of the waitress’s at work to help me out.” You couldn’t help but cringe when Monica didn’t even realize her mistake. 

“Waitressing?” Rachel asked in surprise. 

“Uh-oh,” Joey sang as he stood up from his chair. 

“Of course I thought of you, but...but,” Monica couldn’t even think of an excuse. 

“But-but?” Rachel repeated for her, you could tell that she was starting to get a little upset. 

“But you see this night had to go perfect, you know.” Monica’s excuse was already flimsy. “And well, Wendy’s more of a...professional waitress.” She really was just digging herself in deeper. 

“Oh. I see, and I’ve sort of been maintaining my amature status so that I can waitress in the Olympics.” Rachel joked to hide her hurt. 

“You know, I don’t mean to brag, but I waited tables in Innsbruck in ‘76.” You added to try to make the conversation a bit more lighthearted. But Rachel did not find it funny at all when she glared at you, so you shrunk down and hid behind Bryan for protection. 

“Amuse Bouche?” Chandler offered Rachel the plate of food to try and diffuse the situation. You were about to kiss Bryan when he leaned in, but a voice made you jump up.

“Hey, Y/N.” Joey’s voice rang out.

“Yeah?” You asked, wondering what could be so important that he was interrupting your moment with Bryan. 

“We’re still on for hanging out, right?” He asked, you just furrowed your eyebrows at him. What game was he trying to play at? 

“Um, yeah. Sorry must have forgotten,” you tried to play it off. But even you knew that your face just read surprise. 

“Great, see you then,” Joey smiled. So then you tried to play it off with a smile, but you were breaking when you felt Bryan look at you with slight confusion.

Taglist:

@vampiregirl1797

@kellysimagines

 @shizzybarnaclee

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Closets & Wendy’s.

“Last day of Pride!”

Dean projects himself onto Cas’s bed, ending up sprawled on his front, with an arm slung over Cas’s lap.

On receiving no more greeting than Cas’s hand landing in his hair and starting to card through it, he lifts his face from the comforter, props himself up on his elbows - chin tucked in a palm - and stares at his boyfriend.

Cas looks upset.

The corners of his lips tilt passively downwards, eyebrows carrying most of the weight of his frown.

“Cas?” Dean asks, neutrally - already regretting his overhyped entrance.

“I’m sorry- I don't feel -”

Words fade out, and Cas pauses. Then he turns to actually look at Dean, the sadness seeped into his eyes, and Dean doesn’t waste a moment getting up, knee-waddling over into Cas’s space and pulling him close.

Cas comes easily, planting his head on Dean’s shoulder, and exhaling a tired breath when Dean runs a hand over his back.

“What are you feeling?” Dean asks, after a beat, now trying to soothe Cas’s tense shoulders, rubbing gently over the cotton. Cas leans into his touch.

About three years of therapy, and nearly six years of being roommates - undergrads, and then actual friggin’ grad school - with Cas, basically Dean’s personal mascot for healthy communication, has led him to definitely know that it’s always a better alternative to talk about what you are going through, instead of what you aren’t.

(Or, you know, what you think you should be, just because your dumb, insensitive boyfriend who’s been obsessed with Pride since finally coming out and-slash-or best-friending up with Charlie Bradbury, is. And rather loudly, at that, because Dean Winchester’s a goddamn idiot.)

“Disappointment.” Cas says, morosely, but almost as soon as he hears his own words, he rephrases. “Uh. I’m the disappointment.”

“Well, did you secretly sneak out and mark yourself absent for the entire semester in all your 4.0 GPA classes when I wasn’t looking?”

“Dean.”

“Fine, 3.7.” Dean throws back. “Big friggin’ deal, nerd.” Cas lets out a huff of breath which almost resembles a chuckle, and Dean squeezes his arm around Cas. “You know that would’ve totally been a four if I’d been less distracting.”

“Interesting.” Cas corrects.

“Hot.” Dean throws back, just because he knows it’ll make Cas crinkle into one of his fond ‘what-do-I-do-with-you’ smiles. It does. 

“Perfect.” And Cas throws in a sigh, as if to solidify his point, and leans in to nuzzle Dean’s neck in a way so intensely Cas, that if anyone else had ever tried it, he’d either end up being tickled to death, or running the hell out of dodge. 

“We’re on you right now, Cheesy McCheesington.” Dean smiles back, and goes on. 

He’s not willing to let Cas close up into a ball of repressed emotions with happy only on the outside. That’s way more Dean’s thing - or rather, used to be. He knows he’s bettered his coping mechanisms. Mostly because every part of his life involves Cas now, and anything with Cas is good. 

They’ve grown a lot together - grown through a lot as well, and this is how they’ve done it. By talking through, the Castiel way. It still throws Dean off sometimes, how far they’ve gotten.

So when Cas whines in protest into Dean’s shirt, he knows exactly how to turn it into a side-hug. One of those, where they end up staring at each other from a three-inch distance.

Staring hard, Dean says it. “You’re the farthest thing from a disappointment, Cas. To anyone.”

The lecturers all adored him, their friends made it a point to keep proclaiming their affection out loud (thank god for Charlie Bradbury and co.), and Dean doesn’t think he could be more proud of Cas if he tried. 

He was a goddamn wonder.

He’d gone from a lanky, private-schooled, what’s-a-Star-War schmuck to one of Dean’s favorite people in the world. He was hilarious, and a genius, and kind. He’d grown into his shoulders, and into a stubbly kind of an age, and into this awesome, intelligent, pancake-making man of Dean’s dreams, and into his bee obsessions and organizational neatness - and complete, total perfection. 

(Dean needs him, appreciates him, and (not that subtly - to his credit), loves him in a forever sort of way.)

But before Dean’s properly began to remind Cas of any of it, he’s interrupted. 

“I’m disappointing me, Dean.”

There’s resignation in his tone, and evidence in every word he says. 

“June’s over. Again. And for all the marching with painted cheeks and the megaphones? For all the parades, and the celebrations of our identities, the togetherness, the being proud of being ourselves?” Cas lets out, bitterly, and Dean realizes he knows where Cas is going with this. “And I still haven’t come out to my family.”

Dean waits, sure that Cas isn’t finished. 

“How have I not done it yet?” Cas hisses, and it almost startles him - he’s swapped the upset for angry. It’s rarer. “I’ve known since I was a teenager - and we’ll have been together for five years in three months, Dean, and I just - I cannot believe I still can’t do it.”

He sounds helpless, and Dean wants to jump in, but he needs Cas to get the words out first. 

“What’s the matter with me? Am I not brave enough, or strong enough - or am I still hanging onto the hope that they’ll suddenly become better human beings and not disown me when I tell them?” Cas scoffs. 

He’s pissed at himself. 

“Maybe I still lack, as you say, free will.”

Dean has to step in at that. “That was six years ago, and you know I wouldn’t say it now.”

“Why not?” Cas challenges. “I couldn’t tell them then, either. I clearly haven’t changed.”

“Other things, Cas.” Dean says, and grits his teeth. This isn’t supposed to be them yelling. Cas is frustrated, and Dean’s listening - he can’t be frustrated back at him for the way he expresses it. “Other things have changed.”

Cas gives him a look, but Dean holds his end of it until it crumbles. Cas changes his offense. Mellows down - probably when he sees Dean’s restraint. “This is important to me. I want to do it. Then why can’t I tell them?”

He’s asking himself, but he’s also asking the only person who knows him as well as he knows himself, yet he’s also not asking at all - simultaneously, it’s also rhetorical.

Dean licks his lips. 

“Whatever be the answer to that, Cas, first things first. This doesn’t imply you’re not proud enough.” 

Cas looks away.

“Or, for that matter, not panromantic or demisexual enough.” 

Sigh. Shuffle, shift. And then he looks back up at Dean. The tears weren’t there before. “How do you know, Dean?”

“‘Cause I know this doesn’t decide that.”

“Why not?” Cas says, quietly.

“‘Cause,” He repeats. “How queer you are isn’t measured on a scale of how soon you come out once you know.” He pauses, judges the air. “It usually isn’t measured at all, unless we’re talking about a magical thing known as the Kinsey Scale.”

He judged right. 

Cas coughs, and it’s definitely to disguise a reluctant snicker.

“And you know, even if it were measured on the weird first thing,” Dean adds, serious again. “There’d totally be a different clause, and a separate key, mind you, for the people with douchebag families.”

“They prefer conservative, I think.” Cas says, smally, after an entire minute, as if he’d actually been rerunning Dean’s speech in his head for that long.

Dean shrugs.

Cas almost smiles. He’s calmed down.

“The strange thing is that it makes no sense.” He begins, heavy, albeit less severe on himself. “I’m twenty six. We co-own this apartment, and we pay our bills. We’re completely independent.” It never stops sounding surreal. That’s for another time. “Mother calls me on third Sundays, Gabriel sends Christmas cards. Other than that, I only spend Thanksgiving lunches with them, each year more horrible than the last. I know I wouldn’t miss any of them, nor regret being written out of the will. Or have my Novak cemetery spot passed onto Michael’s oldest. Or the gardener.” 

Dean snorts at that. The Novaks are truly something else. 

“There is no reason I can’t just come out. I just -” Cas cuts into his own sentence with a sigh, one signifying that he’s finally done speaking, and he reclaims Dean’s shoulder once more.

What’s important right now, is to make him feel better. A resolution to this isn’t within grasp at the moment, and Cas sounds drained. Dean - well, he does what he does best. He segues. 

“Wait.” Cas lifts his head. “You didn’t actually say you’re not out, did you?”

Cas squints at him.

“Dude. Being out doesn’t just mean telling your family. And getting subjected to toxicity and trauma, by means of it.” Dean points out, earnest. By that logic, courtesy of a long-dead mom, and a relatively-shorter-dead dad, he’s in the closet as well. “Hell, you put your hand in my back pocket at KFC, yesterday.”

“Oh.” Cas blinks. 

Dean grins, and Cas’s surprise makes it easy to do so. “You bet my publicly grabbed ass, it counts.”

Cas knows it counts. He knows everything that counts. But he indulges himself, and he indulges Dean - his bad mood slowly dissipating. “What else?” 

“You kissed me at Wendy’s last week.” Dean informs him, eyebrows raised. “Held my hand for a really long time in a Starbucks queue on Saturday. Oh, and all the gay bars count, buddy. Especially the bits where we grind on the dance floor, and then I blow you in the stall.” 

Cas opens his mouth to protest that has only happened once, but Dean meets his eyes with a pointed look. He’s got to bring it up.

“Every time I’ve ever taken you to a steak joint counts too. ‘Cause trust me, those are always dates, whether you know it or not.”

“Long drives are a date to you.” Cas deadpans. 

“Yeah, and Baby will never say you’re not out.” Dean throws back, and Cas actually makes it to a smile this time. Dean’s left feeling accomplished. (And sort of dazed, because it’s going to take a lot more than six years for him to get used to Cas being so easily beautiful, and being it right next to him.)

“You said you loved me for the first time at the Roadhouse.” Cas says.

Dean blushes. 

“And then you ran away before I could react, got really drunk and karaoke’d I’m Too Sexy on the stage, and passed out on my lap right as I tried to say it back to you.”

This is definitely not his favorite story, but it always lights Cas up, and that’s all that matters, really - so he rolls his eyes half-heartedly and Cas smiles wider.

Silence prevails for a moment.

“Look.” Dean ends up being the one to break it. Cas listens, hanging onto each word. “You’re the only one who knows why you can’t do it, okay? My best guess would be an internalized decision to avoid conflict. Maybe you call your old therapist tomorrow - like, I dunno, a cameo from Castiel, unresolved coming-out issues sorta thing. Of course, we can talk about it too. Get six cheeseburgers and twelve beers, and figure things out on your own. But it’s up to you.” Cas exhales into a little smile. “All I know is, it doesn’t matter to anyone that you haven’t told your family, if it doesn’t matter to you. 

Cas nods, a couple of times, and there’s the barest hint of tears again, but this time doesn’t make Dean want to punch God. 

It makes him want to hug Cas, so he goes for it. 

“Even if you were in the closet, Cas? I’d say the same.” Dean adds, as an afterthought, about a minute into a hug which doesn’t seem to be nearing an end. Not really. No one minds, so there’s that. “This community, this month - everything about Pride is about all of us, and if Charlie’s ever called me handmaiden, trust me she’s said this a million times. It means everyone. Includes people in the closet, every bit as those who’re out.”

Cas hums in agreement, and tilts his head against Dean’s.

“In any case,” Dean teases. “Your family’s over in Illinois, anyways. Here, where it counts? You’re as out as you can be.”

“I could kiss you in more Wendy’s.” Cas contemplates, because he’s awesome like that.

“What has Burger King ever done to you?”

Dean listens to him considering it with a thoughtful note, and mutters a “Dork.” It helps keep him grounded for he feels like he’s floating right now - ‘cause there’s something about the way Cas holds onto him. Tighter.

Like somehow, even after all this time, they managed to fall a little more in love today. 

And somehow, they’ll keep doing it forever.

[got-svt]

radio star: a svt social media au

summary: when yn accepts a job at her campus’ radio station her first year in uni, she didn’t expect she’d be anonymously singing stressed out university students to sleep. now, a year and a half in, she didn’t expect that there’d be people trying to figure out her identity either. genre: college au, slice of life, humor, fluff, angst pairing: ??? x f!reader

(masterlist)

warning: please don’t read unless you’ve read/been to part thirty-four !! this is the endgame point so tread cautiously ! but if you have read it or you came from there, then…enjoy;)

part thirty-five: slowly, surely

“Yeah, I’ll go.”

Joshua’s eyes lit up at at your reply despite the fact that he wanted to make it seem like he wasn’t utterly delighted at your decision to join him. He holds the door open for you, trying to make sure the the faint red that flushed his cheeks wasn’t in the least bit noticeable as you walk past him.

It was significantly darker now, not a single trace of the sun, streets illuminated by bright lampposts that lined the path and the faint early evening moonlight. A gentle breeze blows through his hair, buildings towered over the two of you, students excited to make their way home walk past, you run into tired professors just wanting to get some well-deserved rest.

There was always something quite alluring in the way the campus felt in the early evening, shrouded by the eager desire to go out with friends or take a break from academics. It was evident in the excited chatter from a few feet behind you, voices animatedly talking about a movie he had never heard about.

There was a small smile on your lips, and Joshua couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going through your mind. Were you thinking about him? He shook his head, not meaning to be too presumptuous. Still, he couldn’t help the slight tug on his heartstring sat the thought of you thinking of him — that he could possibly be reason that the corners of your mouth twitched upwards in a soft smile.

Joshua didn’t know what to say, walking side by side with you in the early evening as he lead the way to his favorite takeout place. Your hands would sometimes accidentally brush against his, it took everything in him not to take your hand and hold it in his. He wondered how it must feel, to feel your touch against his. Did your hands hold the same warmth you did? Would it provide him the same level of comfort that your very presence did?

He internally groaned, he shouldn’t be having such thoughts. Not when he promised that everything between the two of you would be paused while you figured your own emotions out. Joshua respected that, of course he did. He didn’t want you to feel any sort of discomfort in being with him, and if he would have to spend the next few months trying to prove to you he was sincere in efforts towards you, he would do so. And he’d do it happily too.

But there was also small pangs of pain in his chest, remembering the hurt he caused you, the one that lead to your blooming relationship being paused in the first place. He didn’t mean to fall for you the way that he did, he didn’t mean to do it so quickly too. Joshua wasn’t the type to fall hard and fast, at least that was what he thought until you came barrelling into his life — all smiles, red cheeks at his attempts at teasing you, and playful shoves at his shoulders. But he also knew you were possibly one of the strongest people he had ever met. Everything you had gone through the past couple of weeks proved nothing but that, he couldn’t help but fall for you more in the process.

And no part of him expected that you would be moonriver either, the person behind the voice he admired for so long. Joshua didn’t know how he felt when he first found out. He didn’t even know he was blankly staring at a wall until Jeonghan threw a pillow at him, snapping him out of his trance.

Sure, he was happy, he was able to meet the person he admired but did it change the way he felt about you — Yn — the person he had gotten to know the past few weeks. Joshua didn’t know anything about moonriver, he only knew her voice. But Yn, he knew her beyond what she sounded like when she sang. Joshua knew her personality — her intelligence, wit, her kindness and sincerity. He actually knew what you looked like — how your brows furrowed when you got annoyed, the pot on your lips when you got sad, the crinkle in your eyes when you smiled. Sure, he didn’t know you as well as other people did, but he was more than willing to learn. 

Joshua loved you, that much he was sure of. No one could possibly tell him otherwise. 

“You okay?” Your voice snapped him out of his train of thought, his gaze shifting ever so slightly to you before going back on the road ahead, “You’ve been quiet all this time. I’m not sure if that’s entirely like you.”

A hand makes its way to the back of his head as he let out a nervous chuckle, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

You hummed, tilting your head to the side in the process, clearly skeptical of his answer, “Are you sure about that?”

Joshua wasn’t sure how to answer anymore, at least without giving away the thoughts that revealed how strongly he felt for you, so he responded with a question of his own instead, “Is there any reason why you came to our dorm? I appreciate it, but it’s usually me and Jeonghan who would show up to your place unexpected.”

“Oh.” Your voice had gotten much quieter, looking down at your feet, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Me?” Joshua replied, brows raising up in shock, “What did you need to talk about?”

You opened your mouth to answer before closing it again, the words escaping you entirely. You stopped walking, Joshua moving a few steps ahead of you before he noticed that you were no longer matching his stride. He stopped walking as well, turning to look at you, concern so very clearly etched on his face — it almost made you feel guilty for worrying him. 

Lucky for the two of you had stopped in front of a bench, the warm orange glow of the lamppost that stood a couple of feet beside it. Joshua tilted his head towards the bench, implying that you sit there with him for whatever it was you wanted to talk about with him. A sigh escaped your lips as he made your way over and sat down, with Joshua following you. He looked at you one more time in concern before sitting, leaving a bit of space between the two of you. 

“You look like you had just seen a ghost, whatever we’re talking about must be pretty serious, huh?” Joshua spoke, offering you a small smile in the process, breaking the silence that once again descended over the two of you. But you couldn’t meet his eyes, still focused on your hands neatly folded on your lap. Joshua’s smile falters, speaking to you in the softest tone he could muster, “What’s wrong?”

“I want to be with you.” You whispered, just loud enough for Joshua to hear. You didn’t know why you were nervous now, not when you practically sprinted to his dorms the second you ended your call with Wonwoo. Maybe the reality of the situation, the gravity of what it meant to finally vocalize your feelings for him was finally settling on you. “I enjoyed the time we spent together, I didn’t want it to end.”

Joshua felt his heart skip a beat, but how come you sounded so dejected when the words left your lips? Why couldn’t you look at him? This was a good thing, wasn’t it? His heart shattered just as quickly as it skipped, voice now as quiet and as unsure as yours, “Why do you seem so sad about it?”

“I’m not sad about it, more scared actually…” You mumbled, admitting your feelings not only to Joshua, but to yourself as well. Feelings you tried so hard to ignore and suppress, making it seem like they weren’t that serious by convincing yourself you felt something else for other people too. 

“What are you scared of?”

“That I’m not going to be enough for you. That you created this idea of what moonriver would be like in your head and I’m going to end up disappointing you. What if you get bored or tired and leave?” You didn’t realize that you had started crying, a few tears escaping your eyes but you tried your best to blink them back. You didn’t mean to sound so dejected, or weak for that matter.

Joshua couldn’t believe what he was hearing, was this the reason you were holding back on being with him? He couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty too, just because he knew that he loved you didn’t mean that you were magically going to know it too. It’s not like you knew how to read his mind. 

His hand makes its way to your face, gently forcing you to look up at him. Joshua felt an ache in his chest at the sight of your tears, not realizing that he had caused you this much pain and uncertainty. “I’m sorry.”

Joshua’s voice broke at the very last syllable, causing you to widen your eyes in surprise. You didn’t expect an apology, let alone one at this level of sincerity. He wiped away your tears with his thumb before it moves back down to his side.

“I’m really sorry for making you feel like my feelings for you aren’t genuine, that I’m with you just because you’re moonriver. Because that couldn’t be further from the truth. Yeah, asking you out a few days after I found out about you being moonriver wasn’t the best move, but believe me when I tell you that what I feel is for you, Yn.”

“Then why did you do it, ask me out when you found out?”

Joshua wanted to come up with a justification, he searched the deepest recesses of his mind for any sort of reason, only to come up empty handed. He didn’t know why he had done it either, in the moment, it just felt right. There was nothing to it other than that. “I don’t know.”

Your face fell, features downcast as your gaze landed back on your lap. Joshua immediately notices and speaks up before another seed of doubt could plant itself in your mind.

“But I do know that what I feel for you and the admiration I have for moonriver are two different things. Yes, I do like moonriver’s voice, but I fell in love with you. I knew I had feelings for you before I even found out. I would’ve fallen for you regardless of the fact that you’re moonriver. How could I not? You’re kind, funny, smart, and absolutely beautiful. When I’m with you, you make me feel like I’m walking on air. I’m constantly afraid my heart is going to beat out of my chest. I know it’s something I’ve said before, but I’ll keep saying it as long as there is still some doubt in your mind about what I feel for you.” 

You didn’t know what to say, you wanted to say something — at least you felt like you should. It’s hard to believe that this was the same man who pranked you in a coffee shop weeks ago, the one you tried to strangle within a few days of meeting him. He was different, no longer flirty and playful, but impassioned and earnest. You thought about the past few days, how he found ways to constantly assure you that he was there for you, looked for ways to make you feel better without you even having to ask for it. 

“Okay.” You spoke, startling him. Joshua was so sure you’d reject him, just because you liked him or wanted to be with him didn’t mean you’d actually do it. You had to think of yourself first, and he understood that. But when you said the next few words, the feeling of heartache that slowly started to consume him started to disappear. 

“We’ll unpause.”

“Thank you,” Joshua smiled, almost breathless. He brings your forehead to his, “and we’ll go at your pace too.”

Joshua knew he was in love with you, he knew that he fell too hard and possibly a little too fast, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was what he felt for you, something he’s sure was more real than anything in the world. The pace in your relationship would have to be slower than most, building trust and having moments of constant reassurance along the way. But Joshua believed in the intensity and the sincerity of what he felt, not minding that he had a long way to go before convincing you. He knew that slowly, but surely, you would come to believe it too. 

And eventually, you did. 

joshua’s epilogue <33