#i want to have a nice day but it's impossible cause these bitches come here constantly

[rapidhighway]

Too many members of my family are total pieces of shit and they looove sitting around together and talking about how cool they are, how much they like each other and how their kids don't want to talk to them anymore

[fraugwinska]

DoubleTrouble No. 2 - Missionary Impossible

Yes, we did Team up again - the wonderful @macabr3-barbi3 and my humble self wrote another DoubleTrouble fic, based of a hilarious FranticFanfic game result (If you are a writer and have some friends who also indulge in fanfiction, check the game out: www.franaticfanfic.com - Your throat will hate you but the laughter makes it worth it!)

This time we give all of you Vox Lovers a real Treat! Mine is the Readers POV, while Barbie provided Vox's POV - get the TV's dirty version right here.

And now, without further ado:

Explicit Sexual content - Minors DNI - 18+ - 6.5k words

You had to admit: Breaking into Lucifer’s personal vault was your boldest and most impressive job yet. You had your concerns - normally you didn’t take jobs that seemed too shady or downright wrong to you - but you didn’t steal anything powerful, just a bottle of his vanished wife’s perfume. You shake your head at the memory. Most certainly one of her many, still very active superfans, kind of icky to be honest. But money talks, and boy did that client talk.

The only downside had been that for the first time, the 666 Evening News had a picture of you.

Granted, blurry, obstructed and absolutely not usable at all - but it still irked you to no end. They didn’t call you the ‘Traceless Thief’ for nothing.

But even though no one was more the wiser about your identity, even though Lucifer begrudgingly stopped looking for witnesses, even though the gossip on the streets about speculations who the Traceless Thief could’ve been died down - ever since that night, you felt like you were being watched.

The next jobs you take go without news coverage and media attention, and yet, you grow more and more paranoid. Hell has many eyes - figuratively and literally - and you feel them all on you. But there is work to be done and a living to be earned - and the tiny alibi antique bookshop you keep definitely doesn’t provide. No one sane wants old shit in hell - and the rare specimens that do and visit the dingy little space under your apartment come and go, disappointed in the stock you barely keep.

Which is fine by you - you only really need it for one thing. The PO Box.

The wonderfully boring, uninteresting PO Box of the ‘Dusty Pages’ bookshop was your portal to the real money. Hell had become a lot better the day you mastered the powers the underworld granted you: No physical barrier could contain you. Being intangible granted you freedom, and to return to the profession you were best in: Stealing Shit.

Of course, noble causes like overturning corrupt governments by breaking into officials homes and publishing their many crimes was still stealing, if you ask heaven that is, and it landed you in hell. You gave up being salty about it, and made the best out of the situation.

“Hey Frankie. How’s the wife?” The post office clerk, a grumpy looking crocodile in an ill-fitting checkered suit huffs.

“Still fucking annoying, as always. Each day I’m getting closer to bribing an exterminator to kill the bitch just to shut her up for good.”

You chuckled, leaning on the counter and tapping your fingers on the scratched wood.

“Aw, did you burn the meatloaf again? You know Alice hates that.” Frankie gives you an exasperated look, which you meet with a mocking grin.

“You want something? Except for getting on my nerves?”

You shrug, twirling a tiny key on a string around your finger. Frankie, and by proxy Alice too, were parts of your harmless, boring, inconspicuous appearance. Just a normal young sinner, just a normal errand to run, keeping normal small talk with the clerks.

“Just checking my PO Box. I’m waiting on a few rare books I ordered to restock.”

“Uh-huh. Tell someone who gives a shit.”

The crocodile turns away, adjusting his small, round reading glasses and eager to ignore you. Perfect.

“Always nice to chat with you, Frankie.” you say and saunter over to the little door with the number 13. The quiet click always sounds satisfyingly like a little exclamation of joy and like cashflow, and under the ‘Old Crap & Thingamajigs’ catalog you found what you were hoping for. A thick envelope and a letter - new jetstream-bathtub, here you come.

God, why were the VoxTech maintenance uniforms so fucking skimpy?

You grumble silently, cursing yourself that you haven’t grabbed the male one. But that would’ve been suspicious, and you couldn’t afford to be suspicious today. Not if you want to get the job done and live to tell the tale. 

The Vee Tower is full of cameras, hundreds of tiny, red blinking lights next to crystal clear lenses, and dead spots were hard to find and a rare occasion. So, when you couldn’t shift through the walls, you had to look like you belonged. And apparently, a fucking laced, black mini-skirt and a top with puffy sleeves that looked more like a fetish bralette was what it took to ‘belong’. The whole point was blending in, not being remembered - and all the female employees from cleanup and maintenance looked the exact same as you. So, unless one was walking around with a bag full of personnel files on hand, you looked like anyone else on this floor.

You stepped into the elevator, the keycard your client had sent you along with the money and initial job offer in hand. Wherever that person got those precious credentials, you were grateful for them because it gave you an easy way to bypass all the layers of security that VoxTech imposed. All that hassle for an incriminating photo.

You sighed when you pressed the button to floor 66, where the CEO of VoxTech enterprises had his private apartment. Vox.

The name was even more intimidating than Lucifer's to you. While the king of hell was aloof, inactive, disinterested in the ongoings of hell, Vox was the absolute opposite. He knew every little secret. VoxTech had millions of eyes and ears. It was a well known fact that he kept his all-seeing spycams on the whole pentagram and his pliant audience in his steely grasp. Always on top of the times, on top of the news, on top of the sales and on top of any business, shady or not, in hell. In the eyes of the citizens of the Pride Ring, Vox and his partners Valentino and Vevette owned practically everything. He had the largest audience in the history of hell, the sharpest wit and the keenest, calculating eye on the prize - a charming manipulator that was considered very much dangerous and not to be underestimated. Which is why you had to plan your gig for a time you were certain he wasn't around.

A shame really - you couldn’t deny, despite his ruthlessness and questionable business practices with which he had built his empire, you kind of admired the self-made TV-demon that rose to overlord status and made quite a big name for himself in stellar time. That, and he was nice to look at too, even with a flatscreen for a head. Oh well.

The ding of the elevator brought you back to the job at hand, and with confident steps, you glanced up and down the corridor. There were a few cameras pointed to the apartment door, but you found a dead spot not far off, and with a content smile, you walked over as if to inspect the carpet, just to shift as you were out of the camera's angle, your body transpiring through the wall, and with a quiet thud, you were inside.

That was the moment the lights went out.

A power outage was the last thing you had expected - in the Vee Tower of all places. The one place in hell that burst with electricity, and you would laugh at the irony if you weren't so tense. The timing is suspicious,and with a beating heart you shuffle forward, trying to phase through the nearest wall.

What the fuck?

You furrow your brows and huff, irritated. The wall is - well, a wall, and while that was a normal state for others, for you? Unimaginable. Your hands are resting against the concrete and steel, normally easy peasy to walk through. But you feel the hardness under your fingertips, much more intense than it should and almost stinging.

Conventional route it is, then, you think begrudgingly and slowly make your way through the corridor, listening into the stillness of the apartment. The corridor led into a spacious living room - flat, modern couches that screamed money and luxury arranged in a half circle, surrounded by various screens, all turned off. In the middle you see the outlines of a metallic, lavish coffee table, empty and clean like in a catalog. It was the kind of space that wasn’t really meant to be lived in, but to show just how much you had that you didn’t really need. A show.

You scanned the room. There was an open arch leading into a kitchen - also polished and top notch empty, not the cluttered mess you had in your apartment - and a closed, narrow door, likely a storage room. But at the opposite end of it, you see a faint, blue stripe of light, teal blue, luring you towards it. A night light maybe, or some indirect mood lighting shit that was all the rage since LED’s hit the Pentagram a few years ago, shining through a cracked door. Intentionally inconspicuous, your brain whispers, but anything was better than the dim darkness you were stumbling in now. 

When you reach the glowing gap and peek cautiously into the adjacent room, one hand almost on the handle, a groan makes you freeze before you could register what you are looking at.

Oh satan.

Vox.

A LOT of Vox.

The overlord was fucking home, and not just that. In his bedroom - your target location - naked, an impressive and glowing cock in hand, working himself in a way he would definitely not appreciate anyone seeing him in. You felt your neck and cheeks flush with heat - another thing you did not expect nor calculate for. But you can’t look away - as surreal and absolutely dangerous this situation is - his deliciously large hands and the sheer sight of his luminous length glistening with precum as he strokes himself cuts your breath short with highly inappropriate lust. The screen in front of him was bright, and for a moment, you were so enraptured with him that you didn’t recognize the silhouette he was pumping himself to.

You.

It’s you.

In this ridiculous maid costume that was unconsciously riding up your ass, sneaking through the corridor, not even half a minute ago. With growing horror you watch yourself taking tentative steps through the living room, the you on the screen hesitating before deciding to move to the left, one arm reaching out to a cracked open door.

“Fuck, yes.”

The words were barely said when your brain kickstarts.

Fuck, no.

He knew. He knew you were here.

In a flight of panic, you bolted for the corridor, back to the door, back to the safety of not-fucking-here, but you couldn’t even make four steps before your wrists were bound by cables shooting out of the walls surrounding you. You ready yourself to slip through them, but again, your powers leave you high and dry again. Helpless, you back away into the nearest wall, and the door opens fully, with the TV demon standing in the frame. Tall, intimidating even butt-fucking-naked, and a cocky smile on his HD face.

“Hello, my dear,” he almost coos and takes a few steps towards you as you writhe in the restrictions, desperately trying to slip out and get the fuck away. “I’m so glad you got my invitation!”

“Invitation?” That makes you still against the cables, your eyes darting over his face, confused. What the hell does that mean? You weren’t invited, you had a job to... Oh. Oh shit.

“You’re the client?”

His face was answer enough, and you would have slapped yourself for your stupidity if he hadn't had you in an iron grip. A loud game-show ding startles you back into the here and now, he was so much closer than before…

“Sure thing, doll! How else was I supposed to catch a slippery little thing like you without scaring you off?”

He traces his fingers down your cheek, his tips sparking with static electricity. How fucked up are you that this turns you on? Not being able to suppress the need to glance at his still shining and ripped cock again, you swallow hard. Where is your sense of self-preservation? Apparently left outside of this apartment, along with your usual foresight and dignity.

Cables wrap around your thighs and with a yelp you feel yourself getting lifted, legs parted by the wires. You almost topple over but are caught by his hands on your arms and faced with a smirk when you press your back into the wall, stabilizing yourself with a reddened face.

“Those didn’t come with the uniform,” He has the audacity to wink at you, nudging to the black lace panties you wear - excuse a girl for not wearing granny panties in the workplace - and you want to retort something snarky to him, when he looks at you that way. 

Within a moment, you realize two things.

Firstly, with the way he was roaming your body, his eyes lingering not only on your face, but your tits and the flimsy underwear concealing your very obvious wet arousal - you were fucked one way or the other. Which should’ve terrified you. Emphasis on ‘should’.

Because the other thing was, that even though he had bound you, even though you were at the mercy of this powerful sinner who tricked and trapped you here, rendering your power useless with whatever-the-fuck… he didn’t seem malicious, but rather… curious? Fascinated? Playful? You can’t really pinpoint it, but something tells you that - if you play your cards right - you might get more out of this make-pretend job than a jetstream-bathtub and hopefully all your limbs intact. And most importantly - you have nothing to lose.

“They're from my personal collection - lucky coincidence that they match the overall vibe of your staff's... uniform." It takes a lot to steady your voice as you talk, with the way his clawed hands run along the insides of your legs, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

He cocks his brow, as if he's pleasantly surprised, and licks his lips before he answers, his voice sultry and dripping of sexual tension.

"Mh... Luck favors the prepared, I always say. Oh, and speaking of slippery and prepared, sweetheart..."

You gasp as you feel the soft fabric being pushed aside and long fingers running lightly through your drenched folds. Fuck, you can already tell just how skilled those fingers must be. How great they'd feel deep inside you. Involuntarily, you buck your hips to guide them to where you wanted them most - onto your clit and burrowed to his knuckles - the desperation just dripping from you as he chuckles and lets his thumb glide over the throbbing pearl teasingly teasingly as he pushes one of his digits in. Your head rolls against the wall behind you with a needy moan escaping your lips and you have to bite them to stay focussed for what you were about to do.

"What a sight. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment, doll, seeing you all desperate and fucking..."

The rest of his sentence died in his throat, replaced by a low, long and stuttering moan. Half shocked, half aroused, he looked down to his throbbing cock, then his head snapped up to you, grinning down on him. You moved your hips again, grinding down on his unmoving fingers, frozen in place at his confusion, confirming your suspicion that he didn't know about your other power. Not as strong as your intangibility, sure, but strong enough for him to feel - and see - the ghostly hand you envisioned around his dick, continuing what he started, pumping him in leisurely, slow strokes. 

"Didn't know about that move, doll." His hand comes alive again, and even though his voice glitches a bit he adds another one, much more tenderly and almost softly, properly prepping you. And judging by the circumference of the cock you feel through your spectral hand, it was more than precaution, but nothing less than a mercy. Mercy you were ready to beg for, given his thumb would continue the delicious circles it drew, just the right pressure, just the right pace to push you near the edge without tipping you over it.

"You're just a whole mystery, huh?"

Now fairly certain your head wouldn't roll at the end of this encounter, you let your last reservations slide. It has been too long since you were in the hands of a skilled lover, one that didn't disappoint, that didn't come too soon or drilled amateurishly into you in search for the g-spot they never found. This one knew what he was doing, finally, and by satan you wouldn't waste this opportunity. Make it a night to remember, and who knows? If you fuck his brains out, maybe he'd be knocked out long enough after for you to make a quick and easy exit. You imagined the spectre hand to twist, its thumb mapping the soft ridges around the crown. That seems to do the trick for Vox, and the look he shoots you deeply satisfies. "Fuck me, that's good."

Playing into this sentiment, you didn’t stifle the moans his damn fingers stroke out of you, the way they glide in and out, pressure on all the right marks without fail is too good to hold back. Your skin felt on fire, even without him touching anything but your pussy, and you felt no energy left to care that your clothes - if you would call them that - seemed to fall apart on your body, skirt pushed up to your waist, top loose around your shoulders and almost down enough to let your boobs fall out. You must look a mess, but then again the overlord didn’t seem to mind - quite the contrary. He looked outright hungry, eyes glitching occasionally with a particular squeeze of your hand or a poignant lustful moan from your lips.

“Do you have to concentrate to do that?”

“A little.”

His fingers hitting that one sweet spot inside you, cutting any other, more elaborate explanation short. Fucking hell, that you had to get tricked and trapped by an overlord to find a man that doesn’t think ‘foreplay’ is the interview before a soccer game was a fucking travesty. Grateful for that fact you withdraw from your own pleasure and decided to reward him, regaining your concentration enough to imagine a second hand to pay attention to the firm, very plump balls of his, rolling them in its palm and giving them a gentle, tentative squeeze.

“Cool party trick though, isn’t it?”

As if you challenged him, there’s a subtle change in his demeanor - his eyes more inquisitive, his fingers more eager and fervent, and a third one joined the others, stretching you oh-so-deliciously. For a moment you think you’d lose control, the ghost hands flickering before you got a grip on them again, determined to not tip the scales so soon. But you had to admit - it was tempting, to give into this implied command: Submit, let me take care of you, let me fuck you dumb.  

Little did he know, you were all about equality - or nothing at all. And if he was allowed to plow you with three fingers, surely he couldn’t protest against a third hand.

You weren’t sure how you’d manage it… the power was new, still waiting to be mastered, but you willed a third hand into reality, joining the one on his balls, softly working their way down and massaging his perineum. It strained you to no end, operating the conjured hands while Vox was adamant to make you cum on his fingers alone, but with how the cables shook and loosened around you, you were fairly certain it was enough to show him you meant business, your message clear: If anything, baby, we will fuck each other dumb. 

You watch with almost painful arousal how his screen flashes from the three-way-stimulation, his teeth slightly baring from the sensation but without losing his cocky smirk, as if to show his resilience.

"You'd be the life of any party I know, sugar, if you can pull shit like this out your sleeve."

With a wince from you, he pulled his fingers out, leaving you gaping, empty and fucking whining at the loss, eyes sharp and with a dangerous glint in them. "But you're not the only one with a few secret talents."

He kneels down then, opens his mouth, and you can't believe your eyes as a thick, long, very analog blue tongue unfolds and licks his lips hungrily and almost impatiently. A hand around each thigh spreading you almost impossibly wide, the hot breath feels chilling against your slick opening, and a brush of the tip of his tongue on your swollen clit makes your toes curl and your muscles tense with expectation. Your gaze, locked with his, breaks only when your head throws back and you moan out his name as he truly begins to eat you out. 

No teasing or games, no building up the tension - it's unmerciful, frenetic, his tongue alternately flickering on your clit with its pointed tip and pushing deep into your core with an almost unbearable thickness until there was no space left to be filled, tasting every little centimeter inside. Instinctively, your real hands twitch in their restraints, wanting to reach out, grab his head, the frame of his screen, fucking anything really just to have something of him to hold onto and push. Your hips can't hold still, but he made sure not to lose an inch as his hands gripped your ass down and into him as if he heard your thoughts, drawing you deeper into his maw as he devours you. Your spirit hands fade in and out, your mind unable to keep them steadily corporeal - he was too good, his tongue was too good, not once did his rhythm falter nor the damn thing slow down, giving you no chance to collect yourself.

Finally - oh god finally - his cables loosened enough for you to dart your hands towards him, finding a saving anchor on his arms. You literally felt like you were drowning - wet and out of breath, senses fogged by that wonderfully violent tongue swiping and licking and prodding and fucking pulsing. When he hummed into your cunt, all dams broke, and you could only stutter “fuck, cumming - oh my God-” before you snapped and you fell into the depths of your orgasm.

Whatever prick, mouth or fingers you had on and in you before - this erased them all. Never before felt your head so light, your cunt so heavy and hell so divine.

His relentless licks make you mewl with every stroke as he rides you through your high, but he just doesn’t stop. Greedy, rawing your abused cunt to a point where moans turn into almost pained whimpers and your body twitches and squirms, begging for him to relent.

Mercifully he understands, and when he stands up, you only passingly realize with a pang of bad conscience that your spectre limbs have dissipated somewhere along the line, leaving him high and dry - only metaphorically, because his cock was soaked in leaking cum.

He hooks your legs over his arm, his other snaking around your waist to lift you from the wall, and you made no motion to resist it, being that the prospect of his soft sheets on his bed were much more preferable than color-coated concrete on your back. The short walk over feels like the eye of the storm - a short illusion of a safe space, and you use it to assess the damage.

For one - the ‘clothes’ you wore were useless now, they did nothing clothes were supposed to do - The sleeves were half-ripped from the bralette, hanging by a thread, and the top itself so far down your tits were fully out, nipples dark and flushed, while the skirt was nothing more than a drape at this point, hiding the mess on your thighs and reddened, puffed lips.

Then you look up through your lashes, up to the best lay you ever had, down below as well as up above. You should plan your escape, should use the time you had now to calculate what to do to get the fuck out while you could - Instead your horny little fucked-up brain was busy imagining how you could draw this out, make him so pussydrunk he’d send another decoy job weekly, just so you could return to that magic tongue again and again.

You were right. The sheets felt soft and obscenely expensive. You spread your fingers, the only real motion you were still able to make for now, taking his roaming gaze and the appreciative expression on his screen as a badge of honor. Your senses tingled, and you blinked one, two times, listening into your powers. The walls of his apartment were prepped by him to prevent you from leaving - electricity most likely, something intangible itself - but the ceiling and floors weren’t.

“Got another round in you, baby?”

You look up to him as he wraps your legs around his waist,lining himself up to you, tip ready and loaded. But he doesn’t push in. He waits, and you could cry as he does so.

Fucking hell, the ruthless media overlord half of hell fears to the point they piss themselves is waiting for your consent.

It’s this unexpected, contradictory duality that draws your lips into a smile. Trapping you in his territory, able to kill you with his goddamn pinkie, and yet the only thing he does is make you cum on his mouth and wait for a ‘yes’ to fuck you mindless - how could you not fall for that? Even more, how could you not test your luck with that?

With regained strength you reach for his dick, fingers wrapping firmly around his girthy base. His body follows your gentle guidance, and he lets himself glide into your ready heat with a groan that sends a shiver down your spine - such an earnest sound it makes you want to return the favor tenfold. And you just knew the way you could.

“You don’t need to worry about my stamina,” Voice like honey, you refocus your mind, visualizing the wicked idea that had entered your mind.

A soft hand. Long, flexible fingers, slick and smooth and ready. It formed as you thought it, stroking the cleft of his ass, halting at the tight ring of muscle it found, testing his reaction with a teasing, light press against his opening.

The reaction was priceless. Face glitching, hips jerking violently forward into you as its fingers pass his entrance and slide into him, coming to a halt at that one, very sensitive spot. His breath is ragged and eyes fucking wild, but the way he bends down, gripping your hands to entangle them with yours and pressing as much midnight-blue skin against yours tells you that he doesn’t exactly hate it.

“Worry about your own,” you whisper against the skin of his chest, grinning at the way he shudders at the sultry tone of your voice and the challenging eyes of yours, hilted in your pussy still, taking the ghostly fingers like a good boy.

“Whatever you did to your apartment, you only did it to the walls - the floor is fair game - ah fuck-”

He found some of his senses back, his thrust surprising your nerves with a sudden jolt of electricity - added by him or imagined by you, you can’t tell. He fills you so perfectly, as if molded just for you, big and hard and absolutely sublime, and when he brings his knees up more and bends you at the waist he manages to push in even deeper, pounding almost at your cervix with increasingly feverish, tough thrusts. Again, he wanted to break your concentration, but this time, you were prepared. You let your body do what you trained it to do - it goes hazy, misty, almost translucent in a blue-ish hue, revealing the vision of his buried prick deep inside you, teal glow in navy mist, before you solidify again and find the strength to grin up at him.

“If you cum before I do, I’m out of here.”

There was a wicked glint on that screen of his, and he upped the pace of his snapping hips, pressing you deeper into the mattress.

"Guess you'll have to move in then, baby." His voice sounds almost distorted, his body starts to spark with fizzing bolts of electric energy, and when he grips the headboard with one hand to gain more momentum to fuck even faster and stronger into you, you almost want to take him up on that quip, convinced his apartment was equipped with more than just a boring jetstream hot tub.

Your spirit fingers stroke in a come-hither motion over his prostate, over and over, varying in pressure, intensity and speed, and each swipe makes him moan a little louder, driving his dick a little deeper into you. It's becoming a race towards a finish line none of you wanted to get to in the first place, a fight of wills and bodies, pushing you to your limits judging by the way your oversensitive pussy clenches, begging for release once more. But by Satan himself you did not intend to lose without a good fight, your fingers raking over his lithe back and the sharp edges of his body, lingering, scraping, writing wordless praises into his skin in red streaks.

“In fact, sweetheart,” he says as he pounds you and your pants become out even louder, “I’ll make you cum so hard you don’t want to leave - you’ll scream my name so loud they’ll hear you down in Wrath, know exactly where you’ll be living from now on.”

Vox, too, is close, you can see it, hear it, most importantly feel it. One hand remaining on the headboard, the other scoops you up by your neck, pulling you onto his face in a kiss so breathtaking and fierce you almost pass out. It's sloppy and lustful, it's lips against lips and tongue on tongue, and your ability to use either becomes redundant when you and him both simultaneously cry out, orgasms overlap and intertwine, you cunt clenching tightly around his pulsating length, sending spurt after spurt of hot cum into you as your own release drips onto the soaked sheets below. Your eyes roll back, the fingers buried inside his tightened ass vanish and your muscles relax. With his hand still on your neck, claws digging into your skin, he slowly brings you back onto the mattress to let you fall together with him.

Silence settles for a second. A brief moment of stillness and clarity, sweat cooling your skin, hearts slowing down and breathing returning to normalcy. You feel the aftermath of his touches everywhere. His marks litter you from top to bottom: Your wrists and thighs are covered in red streaks from the tightness of his cable bondage. Your whole skin tingles from the waves of his inherent electric current. But most telling of all was the pooling mess inside of you, already leaking.

You let yourself feel the weight of his body on yours - it's an intoxicating feeling, the heat radiating off his dark blue skin, and the subtle charge beneath, a hidden hum underneath your fingertips, telling of the immense power of an Overlord you just let fuck you senseless. Now would be the time to run - his screen was completely blue, turned off while he recovered his breath - if you wanted, you could disappear, and he wouldn't be able to stop you or track you down. But when you searched the depths of your mind and body for regret and the sense of danger it brought - there was none. Only satiated warmth, an afterglow you could bathe in, like a warm, healing balm, easing your aching bones and bruised skin.

And just in that moment of resolve, Vox’s screen returned to show his face, and he lifted his head slightly to look at you with eyes as bright and vivid as the neon signs lighting up the streets of the entertainment district outside his windows.

One Month Later

“Thanks babes, I was about to lose my shit when Velma and Kelly fucking quit on me. Bunch of pussies, those two, seriously.”

You shoot Velvette a smile over your shoulder, adjusting the last couple of details on six of her girls, ghostly blue hands hovering around them - clipping a collar here, buckling a shoe there. You pity the two foolish girls - the runway show had Velvette occupied tonight, but tomorrow - well, you were sure Vel was about to annihilate their sorry stylist asses for blowing her off last minute… and not just with a snarky post on Sinstagram.

“No problem, Vel, that’s what I’m here for.”

The small woman laughs sarcastically, but not in the usual mean way, but a playful one, a friendly one. That was one of the things you could pride yourself on - That Velvette, social media queen and judge of what’s hot and not, fell in love with you almost as fast and hard as Vox did.

“Darling, we both know that no one really knows what exactly Vox hired you for. What was the job description he pulled out of his flat ass again?” she raises a cocky brow, sipping obnoxiously on her iced coffee to go in her hands, holding out another, identical one for you. “Ah, yes, ‘ASS’.”

You take the drink from her, smiling mischievously back at her. When Vox came up with that title, he didn’t even notice the ambiguity of its abbreviation, and you let him stew over it for almost a day before you told him, silently convinced your fingers left a memorable impression. “It’s ‘Administrative Services Specialist', and what can I say? My resumee was very convincing.”

Velvette snorts into her vanilla foam. “Funny name for your cunt love, but you do you. Now shoo. Didn’t you and flatface have a date tonight?”

You wave her a quick goodbye, sipping up the cold drink in one gulp and throwing it into the trash as you bypass it, hurrying down the hall and plucking the private keycard from your back pocket. You scan it at the elevators, noticing the other employees backing away from you, and you couldn’t hide the grin that flashed your face. No one dared to ride in that elevator with you, a very badly kept secret that it sent you one way straight to Vox’s apartment, and every one of them would rather chew glass than be caught by whatever awaited the opening elevator doors.

And Vel was right - you had a date with Vox, a special one at that.

Barely three weeks ago you actually did move in - call it a whim of insanity, call it fate - and since that, your days were filled with a job in the Vee Tower that you actually liked (no one shed a tear at the ‘Dusty Pages’ closure notice) and the nights were spent naked, sweaty and blissfully explicit under, on top and any other possible way with Vox in his bed. You learned something new about yourself - with the right partner, you were almost insatiable. Another thing you learned was that Vox seemed to feel just the same. Lucky coincidences indeed.

But date night was something special. Giving up the alibi bookshop was easy enough - but you were adamant that you still wanted to do your other jobs.

Not because of the money - Vox provided generously, and wouldn’t take a cent from you (although you managed to convince him to let you buy him at least snacks and small gifts, an exception you abused to the absolute limit). No, you actually liked to sneak through the night, liked the thrill of moving in the shadows and shifting through secured buildings. Liked the excited arousal you felt after a completed heist.

To preserve your secret, you and Vox decided that you wouldn’t reveal your main power to the others at Vee Tower, the only other people who knew were Velvette and Valentino.

The latter wasn’t your biggest fan, and who could blame him, giving that you were living with  and fucking his ex-lover, but he had his own flings and things to take care of, and after a few occasions where you stepped in to help him out at shoots and with his scripts, he at least became cordial towards you.

But date night was where you went out to do a job, secured through Vox for one of his many business partners, and the pool of people the TV demon had on hands that needed or wanted something of value was a bottomless pit from which you could choose the ones you liked the best. And your digital lover not only organized your gigs - he became your eyes and ears, your literal partner in crime.

The doors open, and Vox stands waiting, leaning, in the doorway, arms crossed and a grin on his face.

“You’re late, doll.”

“I know I know, but Vel needed some helping hands - you know I can’t leave her hanging.”

“Oh, I saw.”, he chuckles, his screen switching from his face to images of you from the security cameras on Velvettes floor, close ups of your face, your tits and ass sprinkled in between. ”You know I can never see enough of you, gotta keep those cameras on.”

You scoffed, but did so with a smile before you kissed him and ran off into the closet, undressing quickly while he followed you, letting himself fall down on his bed and watching you intensely as you peeled your clothes from your body and slipped into your signature skintight suit. By the time you were changed his cock was hard, straining his pants which you acknowledged with an appreciative smile.

You both exchange longing looks, but time is ticking. You put the newest addition to your equipment in your ear - a tiny, wireless headset, directly connected to Vox, bend over the bed, your tongue running over the warm line of his lower lip and sigh as he groans with want.

“I know it’s usually payment upfront, baby, but we’re already behind schedule.”

You can’t seem to tear yourself from him with those big hands on your ass squeezing tightly and that goddamn tongue in your mouth, your mind half decided to tell your client to fuck off and fuck the demon in front of you senseless. But he gently pulls away, his eyes burning not only with need, but also with pride. A look you loved to see on him.

“And besides, you are so much more voracious after a job well done.”

He slaps your ass as you pass him, and you shift through the wall, now almost as eager to steal that stupid looking red duck from some dingy, rundown hotel as you were to return to his waiting cock to cash in your salary.

[kimtaesss]

Summary: your ex boyfriend from 2 years ago has returned. Despite wanting to avoid him at all cost it’s impossible when you both share the same friend group. To make things worse, he has come back with a girlfriend.

Pairing: Taehyung x reader ; Yoongi x reader

Genre: angst, fluff, exes to (?), exes au

Warnings: starting with a flashback (again 😭); honestly this chapter is mostly flashbacks of how their relationship was before; y/n being a simp for Taehyung and Taehyung only; y/n is just a sad bitch tbh; a bit of Jimin’s and Yoongi’s perspective and yeah! Oh! Just a little fyi some phrase are repetitive cause they kind of share the same brain 🙄. Mini reunion between Taehyung and y/n at the end of the chapter ( but not really). Next chapter you’ll see the reunion of y/n and Taehyung!

Authors note: honestly I’m not really satisfied but I am? Let me know if I should rewrite this chapter tbh 😭 Also its 6 in the morning so if there’s some typos let’s just ignore that. I’m pretty sure I got them all though so fingers crossed.

Chapters: m.list | 01 | 02 | …..

"I-I don't think I can make it across" You yell as you pay attention to the ground. You're too scared to pay attention to anything else, even the voice of your boyfriend.

You've always been a homebody, you hated being outside, and being adventurous. Well, you didn't have that growing up, so you guess that added onto your lack of courage. And maybe deep down you wanted to try new things, but again, you had no one to share that with.

But Taehyung, your boyfriend, is trying to stop that cycle. He wants you explore the world, and not just with anyone, with him.

"It's okay! I got you" Taehyung yells back but with a more soft tone. He wants you to feel comfortable enough to take a risk. But he also needed you to hear him. He wants to make sure you know that he's got you, no matter what.

"No! You just- you go ahead and have fun. I can just stay back and wait for you" You move your hands all over the place, almost like you're shaking off water. And that was a dumb mistake, as you clumsily began to lose control.

You were standing on top of a rock, and you're not exactly the lightest human being. You're also not very coordinated, so you tend to fall a lot. But Taehyung still managed to convince you to do this, you're still not even sure what this is.

You trust Taehyung. Just as much as you love him. So, you didn't think you'd be feeling scared to the point where you feel dizzy. But here you are, feeling exactly that.

He never did respond to you. Technically, you did tell him to leave so you shouldn't feel mad or disappointed. But, you guess deep down you wanted him to fight for you.

Yup! You're being dramatic again. You definitely need to grow the fuck up.

"Ahhh" you scream as you kick your legs, and move your arms like some crazy person. You felt arms on your waist, and you could have sworn that you were about to get kidnap.

That was until you heard that deep voice, with an adorable laugh. Immediately you felt as ease. He didn't leave you. He didn't.

"You came back!"

"I never left. I'd never leave you"

Those words. It made you feel seen. It made you feel important. You almost wanted to cry, knowing that you have someone who is willing to put with you. It sounds silly, and you know it. But sometimes it's nice to know you're needed or wanted.

That day ended up with you both falling into the water. Well, actually Taehyung pushed you to fall on your own, but you dragged him down with you.

"I'm so going to be sick tomorrow" you laugh as you continue to splash water and throw some towards Taehyung.

"It's okay! That just means that I can cuddle you all night, and never leave your side"

"Gosh. You're so clingy sometimes" You say, even though you love when he acts clingy. It just means he’s not tired of you yet.

He laughs and carries the biggest smile you've ever seen on anyone. The way his eyes were shining, and staring directly at yours. Your heart beat kept rising, you could literally feel your heart beat out your chest. You were head over heels for Taehyung. You were happy knowing that you had found the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.

"I am. I really am"

You continued to stay in the water for hours, just laughing and playing silly little games. He had brought back the happiness you were so desperately were trying to find.

You were beginning to realize how life is so beautiful when you share it with someone.

Who knew dreams can turn into nightmares?

"Hey, y/n. It's me Taehyung"

Did you hear that correctly? Was your ex-boyfriend really on the phone? It didn't make sense, like at all. Still in shock, the phone slid down your hands, and fell onto the ground. You were in complete shock. This was most definitely not something you had planned happening. You're almost one hundred percent sure, that Taehyung also didn't have this planned.

"Hello? Y/n?!"

Taehyung tried to yell loud enough for you to hear him. He knew that the phone had slipped out of your hands, well because you were quite predictable when it came to reactions. But the yelling couldn't knock you back to your senses. Maybe it was the fact that this did not feel real, this felt more like a dream.

However, it was a dream you wanted to wake out of. This wasn't what you wanted nor needed right now. You were about to go outside and have your friends either hype you up, or maybe make some dumb comment that made you laugh. Either way, you'd take it. But now things took a drastic turn. Your hear a knock on the door, and shivers ran down your back. Immediately, you regained yourself, well sort of. You technically were now more aware of your surroundings, but your mind still felt foggy, and shaky.

"Are you going to show us the dress or not?! I can't promise I'll be nice, but I promise to tell you the truth!" The whine in his voice, yup! It's Jimin. Even though, you technically regained your senses, your mouth felt like it was glued shut. You couldn't let a single word slip out of your mouth.

"Okay! You leave me no choice but to come in there and see you butt naked! Is that what you want?"

Still no reply from you. You were once again in a frozen state, and all the effort to escape this mess was undone. You hear a loud noise, and you instantly knew that Jimin was in fact trying to break in. He didn't know about your current situation, but why was the idea of having him in the room with you making you more nervous? Is it because things could end horrible, and the whole birthday dinner would be ruined or... could it be something else? You just didn't know.

"Dude..what are you doing?" A new voice appeared and you could really differentiate who was who. Your mind was still stuck on the voice that you heard a couple of minutes ago. His beautiful deep voice, you missed it. You missed him.

"Trying to open the door. Duh?" Jimin was questioning Yoongi, rather than actually making a comment. He had that sarcastic tone, like he was answering a dumb child.

Usually you'd laugh to that. Or at least crack a small smile, but it seems like the things that are suppose to make you happy, only make you more sad.

"Why don't you just use the key?" Yoongi spewed back. He was also carrying that sarcasm with him. You just knew they were going to argue about this for days. These two, as much as they loved each-other, they are too petty at times.

At times it feels like Yoongi and Jimin are the exact same person. The only difference was, Jimin had no boundaries and Yoongi at least attempts to be respectful. Although he also has his few bad moments, and ideas.

"There's a key?" A smack was heard and that again brought you closer to your senses but not completely. Why did he say your name like that? And why couldn't you stop thinking about it? You wanted to do nothing but cry. For days, weeks, months or fuck it, years. You wanted to release the very few emotions you've tried to hold back.

"Y/n! Please help! Yoongi just hit me in the back of the head" Jimin continued to plead for your help.

"Yeah, well maybe stop being a dumbass and you won't be smacked" Yoongi's hot breathe, and extreme close proximity to Jimin's ear, lead to Jimin's outburst.

"Snitch" Jimin attempted, again, the key word was attempted to whisper. But if you heard it and there was a door in between you. Then, Yoongi was already planning Jimin's funeral.

You know. You know you're being ridiculous. You're 23 years old, and you're locked up in your room, crying for an ex boyfriend. And it hits you even more knowing that Taehyung hasn't cried for you, or had break downs while he was working like you.

You know that no matter how you're feeling, Taehyung was happy. He beat you. It's not like it was ever a competition, but you know that feeling when you see your ex boyfriend move on, and he seems to be doing better in life than you? It's almost like you were never needed, and instead you were setting him back.

You make yourself believe that you were the problem, even if you weren't. Of course, you had your moments, but who knows. Maybe, you're making yourself a saint, and were actually the reason behind the break up.

God. Some days, you just want to climb onto the highest mountains and just jump right off them. You doubt the pain would ever amount to the one you're currently feeling.

No. You need to get your shit together, and snap out of it. He has moved on, so it shouldn't be hard for you to do the same. But it's just a bit harder when you weren't the one who gave up, the distance never took away the love you had for him. It only increased it.

No. You shake your head, as you try to shake off those thoughts that keep haunting you. It's time to focus on your present self, and the dress that is attempting to cover your flaws. As it turns out the first time you "figured it out" , you had your dress inside out. Luckily there was no one with you, because that was truly just a brain fart moment.

"I-I'm going. I just need to figure out the straps" your voice was a little too squeaky. It was making your entire body cringe. And you hate it. You hate that your voice was tiny; you hate that you're acting like a child when they don't get what they want.

Even when you attempt to fix the straps on the dress, you're moving like a sloth. But you manage to do it, and you couldn't be more sad. It's just... it's too hard for you to act like everything was fine.

See, Taehyung was your go to person. He was the first person that made you feel comfortable in your body. He was the first person who would go out of his way, and drop you off food at work. He was the first person who could read your mind. He knew you. He exposed you to things you've always wanted but never had the guts to try on your own.

And trying on a dress was one of them. You never enjoyed putting on tight clothes. Not unless you were around Taehyung. It's not like you depended on him for a lot of things, and you probably sound like some desperate women who always need a man’s approval. And you don't and aren't.

But Taehyung let you take your time, and never pushed you to do or be someone you aren't. He would always reassure you, take pictures of you, and made sure you are able to appreciate yourself in them.

"Bitch you're slow as fuck! Hurry up!" Jimin's throwing a tantrum again. You hear the stomping and the knocking on the door, and it managed to crack a little smile on your face.

You walked towards the door, not even caring to take a look in the mirror again. Of course, you were afraid of breaking down, because let's face it you were an insecure person. It hit you even more, knowing that Taehyung was going to see you in this very dress.

Your hand grabs the door knob and twists it a little before you actually open the door. You take a deep breathe before you eventually open the door, and let your two stupid friends walk in.

The looks on their faces, made you feel some type of way. You weren't sure if you should be more insecure or if you should be over the moon. It definitely made you more self aware.

"Is it that bad? Or do I look bad?" You're roaming your hands all over your body, almost like you're fixing it up. Even though it's clearly ironed and nothing needs to be adjusted. You're just a nervous mess right now. They're too quiet.

"Oh. My. God. Let's fuck!" Jimin said that with no hesitation. It made you choke the very air, you depended on to live. Your throat was becoming dry, as you continue to cough.

"That's- I was not excepting that comment." You're not sure if you should take that compliment too serious. Well, you know that you and Jimin will never fuck. He just likes to play a lot. But still, you guess you meant if you were even attractive enough to do you know…that.

"Dude! You are so going to make Taehyung's girl jealous" Jimin let's just about anything slip out of his mouth. He even allowed Yoongi to punch him. Not that Yoongi ever needed permission, but he sure did not put up a fight.

"Do you ever just think before you speak? This isn't about Taehyung or his girl. This is about y/n! Which by the way, you look... gorgeous."

"Thanks Yoongi. It really means a lot" You sway your body, as you took in that compliment. Yoongi does compliment you, but it's on rare occasions. And usually you have to ask him, but today, he took the initiative. So you guess, you guess you look decent.

"I'm sorry y/n. I know you are your own person. I just- I didn't think. You look amazing, really! I mean I'd marry you, you know... if I was into you."

Yoongi gives Jimin a "what the fuck" look. But you just end up snorting and laughing like a maniac. Now, they are both giving you a "what the fuck" look.

Now there's tears streaming down your face. You were sad, but those tears weren't sad tears. They were more like, you're grateful to have two friends, who despite being idiots. Are always supporting you, and making sure you feel somewhat comfortable.

"I'm so sorry! Did I make you cry?" Jimin's panic mode, looks like a mother losing a child in a store. It's just hilarious seeing him all stressed out and worried.

"Nice going, dick head" Yoongi says as he rolls his eyes. He was so over Jimin and his stupid comments. He really just wanted to slap tape on his mouth and hope that would shut him up.

"At least I get head"

But Jimin just continued.

"Oh gosh. I'm leaving this conversation"  You continue snorting as you walk to the kitchen. You needed a drink or maybe some pills to calm the arising headache you're getting from being in their presence.

"Can you bring back wine, while you're at it" Jimin shouts, as if your apartment wasn't small and had thin walls. He holds a mischievous smile, and you are shivering from the very thought of it. Jimin when he's drunk, is not the best influence.

And you drunk? Well... you're definitely a follower.

You just hope you can wake up for work tomorrow. Or you guess today. You needed a distraction before the stupid birthday dinner. Well, it's not actually stupid. Taehyung is.

Taehyung. How you wish you could turn back time.

Jimin ended up passing out after only one glass of wine. He probably had some earlier, he usually lasted longer than that. As for Yoongi? He was taking pictures of you, and attempting to guide you.

"I think it might be better if you... I don't know, put your leg forward? That's hot. Right?"

"I don't know" you shrug to emphasize your confusion. "You're supposed to tell me that" you laugh, as you see him constantly squint and attempt to find your angle. He is trying his best, and that's all you could ever really ask of him.

You continue to move around, or pose in a way, that doesn't look like you have back problems. Or shows just how poorly you can walk in heels, and apparently standing in heels is also a huge struggle for you.

You almost want to give up. In fact, you should. You know that keeping those photos in your camera roll, will be for no reason. You'll never have the courage to truly admire the details, without having something bad to say about them. And if by chance, you happen to look through your camera roll, you'll wake up with puffy eyes and stuffy nose.

"I mean... you look good" Yoongi hesitated for a while to make a comment, which lead him to stutter. You can see the instant regret and embarrassment all over his face. He even curses under his breathe, clearly ready to leave out the very door he snuck into earlier.

"Thanks" You simply reply, as a small smile plasters on your face. It felt forced but at the same time, you know you wanted to smile. He seemed... somewhat genuine about it. Still, his effort definitely lighten your mood.

"Anyway, I should...probably go" he points behind to Jimin and then the door. "He's drunk and I have work tomorrow. Or I guess today?" He freezes realizing how bad he fucked up. Yoongi takes a while to fall asleep, and now looking at the clock, he knows he'll end up showing up to work, without any sleep. He sighs as if had been holding his breathe in for a couple of hours. He's dreading leaving, knowing that he'll have to leave straight to work.

You understand that in so many ways. In fact, you're debating yourself if you should call out of work. It's not for any particular reason. Okay, you're lying again. It's the pain and shame in showing up in a place, that held so many memories.

Taehyung always felt like you're other half. Literally and figuratively. He was always with you, whether that be in mind or standing right beside you. He would always go with you to work and pick you up, just so you don't encounter some creep. Taehyung was half of your heart. He shared this bond with you, that at times it felt like you were seeing your exact reflection.

But when he left. In a way, he left with your heart and identity. You had no idea who you were without him. Maybe, that's why you decided to not reply back to him on the phone. You were unsure of how to respond to him, without remembering all those memories and words that were floating around your heart. You're afraid of admitting that the man you were talking to, or ignoring was not your Taehyung. It was just a different version of a man you used to or…still love.

God. How did you go from work to missing Taehyung? Your mind sure likes to play games with you. Yoongi is the one standing in front of you. Showing you just how much he cares. You should have the decency of keeping him in your thoughts rather than Taehyung, who is no where around.

"Thank you" You blurt out of nowhere. You kind of scared yourself, to be honest. You weren’t exactly sure where that came from.

Yoongi placed Jimin over his shoulders, grunting as he attempts to keep a good hold on him. But once he hears your voice again, knowing you were deep in thought, he turns around. Or attempts to have a better view of you, just as you of him.

"Don't. Thank Jimin, it was all his idea"

"I will. But I'm thanking you right now"

"Why?" Yoongi questions, clearly taken a back by your hard stance on thanking him.

"You made me forget about him. You made me think of me. I didn't think that was possible, even if it was just for a spilt second"

"You're an amazing person, you should think of yourself more often. Plus, it was you who made it possible"

"What?" You snort as you lean onto the wall behind you. "How? How did I make it possible?" You question him as if there was no possible answer to your question. Deep down you felt like there wasn't.

But he sure finds ways to surprise you. It made you feel all giddy inside, knowing that you still had someone who went above and beyond to make you feel like a little kid again. He made you feel... well, you're not sure if you can accurately describe it. But it sure felt nice.

"It's just easy to compliment and make someone feel special when they already are" he turns back around, as your eyebrows furrow. You were trying to take in his words, and the meaning behind them. It felt like he sprinkled your open wounds, with fairy dust. And the wounds were slowly closing.

He gives you one final look back. "Good night y/n"

"Good night" you whisper as the door slammed closed.

Instantly your body was sliding down the wall. As your brain was rebooting itself, and your tears were streaming down your face. You could feel everything and nothing all at once.

You're special? Like you?

Maybe just to him. Maybe he was just being a good friend, and managed to say the right words. Even when the right words felt wrong, especially the way it took your breathe away.

You stare in front of you. You stare at the broken glass that was left from earlier or yesterday. The glass that was holding up, the picture of you and your supposed soulmate.

And just like the glass, you were scattered on the floor. You were fragile enough to break with one sentence. You were broken enough to understand that no matter how much love and praise you get from others, you'd flip everything, and rain on your own parade. You loved yourself enough to hear those praises, but hated yourself to the point of turning those praises into pain.

Because if you were so damn special you wouldn't be in the place you were in. And he wouldn't be in the arms of someone else.

Even if he called you. Even if he contacted you first. You were always going to be his second option.

He managed to move on. without you.

"Jimin wake up" Yoongi rocks Jimin's lifeless body, well it felt that way anyways. Jimin was passed out. He's not even sure how he managed to do that, especially after only one damn drink.

"Mmm later" Jimin managed to slip out of his mouth, but it still sounded a bit slurred. Thankfully, Yoongi can speak hung over Jimin.

But just like Yoongi can understand Jimin, he knew the only way Jimin would wake up is if someone threw cold water to his face. Well, that or a slap. And because it was Jin's birthday dinner today, Jimin could not have any marks on his face.

Unfortunately.

After a couple of buckets of water thrown at Jimin's face, Jimin managed to wake up. A little bit too much for Yoongi's liking, seeing as Jimin can not shut up.

"I just know it's going to be super awkward, and I'm going to bust out laughing because of it. Like it's already weird enough that's Taehyung is going, but he had to bring some girl he just started dating. Like does he even think of y/n and her feelings like-"

"If you say like one more time, I'm going to strangle you to death" Yoongi interrupted as his head was starting to hurt from Jimin's constant blabbering. He knew that he had good intentions, but it's 10 in the morning, and honestly speaking, just the idea of seeing Taehyung is making him annoyed.

He's also a bit disappointed. He used to be close to Taehyung, but then he had to pull this little stunt.

He still remembers how Y/n had been knocking at his door at 3 in the morning. Her mascara was splattered all over her face. Her eyes were black, almost like she had been in a boxing match and lost, bad. The way her hair was sticking out, and clinging onto the corners of her face from her constant crying.

She looked so out of it. It hurt. It hurt to know that he couldn't protect her, even if he couldn't do anything to prevent her from feeling that heartache.

And the worst part was that Taehyung went mute when it came to explaining why he dumped her.

"Hello?! Are you even listening to me? God. I need a new fucking roommate, I'm amazing to talk to" Jimin didn't pay attention to Yoongi, and the way his face immediately changed.

"Sorry. What did you say?" Yoongi didn't even recognize himself. His tone, his voice. He felt and sounded so weak.

"Dude. Did you just apologize to me?" He points to himself as he stares behind him, in case he missed someone's presence.

This only annoyed Yoongi. He was always annoyed, and he hated it. For once, he wanted to feel okay. He wanted to stop this rage he carries with him. He wanted to feel nothing.

"Yeah? It's no big deal" His annoyance carried throughout his voice. He almost wanted to cry, because of how overwhelmed he felt.

How he hated emotions.

"It is if it's coming from you! You never apologize. Not even when you dropped food on my bed" 

"I guess" Yoongi shrugs, as his eyes roll back. It was his way to disguise the tears that wanted to pounce out his eyes. Even that expression felt like too much, but it was just this strong feeling, that he couldn't describe it differently.

Why was he acting like this? He should just act tough, be the man he's suppose to be. Or whatever his father used to say.

"What's wrong?" Jimin questioned, after feeling that tension between him and Yoongi. He wanted nothing more than to hear Yoongi's truth. But he knew that won't happen any time soon or ever.

But he cared. He cared so much that it physically hurt him to see Yoongi like this. And he knew why, or at least deep down he had a feeling.

It was the same reason as his. He missed his old friend. He missed laughing at the same movie, because you guys could never agree on one, and resort to one you watched ages ago.

It was a comfort movie. It was. Until it wasn't.

"Nothing" he shrugs it off. "What's wrong with you?" Yoongi's throws back the question. But he could guess the answer that was going to slip out of Jimin's mouth. It would be the same as his.

"Nothing"

Knew it.

They both stayed quiet. They were used to this, the silence. It was different before, but that was a different time. It was a time where the trio were together, where the trio would do everything together.

See, when Taehyung left and dumped y/n, in a way he also dumped his friends. At least Jimin and Yoongi. They never got an explanation either, so the pain and anger y/n feels, they feel twice as much.

They knew him longer than y/n, but still he didn't act like he did.

And they try to hide it. They try to hide the fact that Taehyung broke their hearts too. Taehyung was their glue in a way. He was the one to convince Yoongi to be a bit more out there and enjoy life. And he helped Jimin understand when it's necessary to act like an adult.

He was the perfect person to put Jimin and Yoongi in their place. The only difference was they both didn't mind it. And when he left. It was difficult for them to help or guide the other one out.

"I missed him" Yoongi wanted to blurt out. He wanted to shout. Taehyung was like his little brother, and when he lost him because he did lose him. He just wasn't ever himself.

But he chose to stay quiet. As did Jimin.

They simply gave each-other a knowing look, as their eyes began to reflect their inner pain. One smile and they went their separate ways.

Sometimes it was better to leave than stay.

Maybe they had more common with Taehyung than they thought.

You woke up with the biggest headache and you knew it was a foreshadow for todays event.

You didn't want to get up. You didn't want to see him, even though you've been waiting for this exact moment since he left.

You even typed up a couple of messages to send to Taehyung  before you eventually read them over and deleted them.

You wanted to know what he was going to say, and honestly speaking you would have sent them but you were afraid that it would be at a bad time. Or his girlfriend would see it and blame him or you for it.

You just didn't want to jeopardize Jin's birthday. And maybe you were afraid of the answer you'd get. Maybe it was a mix of both.

Sometimes you wonder if he's the same person.

Has anything changed? Well, apart from coming back and with a partner.

Has he dyed his hair the color he has always wanted? A lighter brown. Although the color sounds plain and quite common, Taehyung loved it. He said he found warmth in that color. He felt it every-time he would see that exact color in your eyes.

Has he been taking the writing courses he was saving up for? He used to walk around the streets holding your hand, showing you places, and making sure to bring a pen and notebook with him. He would bring you a pair as well. That way, you could write down what you saw, and your way of seeing the world compared to his. He wanted to learn a side of you, that only you can see. He wanted to make sure to learn and appreciate your vision.

Has he saved enough money for a car? You remember as you took bus rides to your dates, he would pick up pennies, nickels, dimes, and a couple of buttons because he couldn't see very well at night; and place them in his pocket. At first you were confused but then one day you asked him, and from that day forward, you both got to understand each-other in ways you never thought you could.

"Every-time I see a penny, nickel, or dimes on the ground, I have to pick them up. I know it sounds crazy, and I'm probably thinking too big, but I'm saving them up for two things."

And that's when you would butt in and ask him a very original question, "what are the two things?"

"Well they both involve you. Can you guess what it is?" Taehyung would always throw back a question to you, because he knew you'd get impatient and he found your annoyed face to be the cutest thing to ever exist.

"Come on! Just tell me! You know I suck at guessing. I'll probably just say something dumb too"

And as you went on with your whining, he would stare at you with pure adoration. Almost like he were looking at a cute puppy. He couldn't get enough of you. He didn't care if you or anyone else thought he was being extra or sappy, he just wanted to admire you every day.

"Well... okay! One is for a car"

"A car?"

He nods his head. "Yes! A car." He continues to admire your face, the features on your face were so perfect.

"That's great! I have a couple of coins that I can give you! It's not a lot but it's a step closer to reaching your goal. But wait, you said it involves me. How?"

"Well… honestly, I just want to be able to take you on dates without having to embarrass you. I know dating someone who uses a bus as a transportation isn't cool, so.. yeah."

"Woah. Slow your roll there buddy. Do you really think I care if you do or don't have a car?"

"No, I know you don't but I care. I mean I just- I see couples, where the guy picks them up in their own car, and takes them out and stuff. And all I can offer you is a bus ticket." He scoffs. "I want to give you what you deserve"

"Taehyung you've given me more than what I deserve. I mean I have you, and I clearly do not deserve you. And I didn't date you because of what you do or don't have. I'm with you because I know your heart, and I know that if I'm ever feeling down, you'd be there besides me, holding and making me feel better"

You can't see it because you're talking with so much speed and emotion. But something flipped in Taehyung's heart. He felt this urge to get on his knees and ask you right there to be his forever. He felt this urge to let you know, that if anyone doesn't deserve anyone, it's him. He didn't deserve you.

He didn't.

"You do all this without a car. You do all this without asking for anything back, even though I know I have a lot to repay you but-"

Your mouth was shut with a kiss. Taehyung had been hearing every single word that came out of your mouth, and each one touched his heart. He felt like he won a lottery, finding someone like you. And he knew that if he were to ever have to let you go, it would be one of the most excruciating pain he's ever felt.

You shake your head as you try to snap out of that memory. You don't even want to think of a time where you felt like you were going to be together for a long time.

You didn't even get to hear his second choice, if he were to save enough money.

It didn't matter anyways, and it shouldn't. It's been two years, so these random memories and past feelings should have been out of your system a long time ago.

You take a quick glance in the mirror, and get up with speed. You decided that today was it. Today was going to be the last day you cry and think of Taehyung. Because if you don't, you'll grow up old and sad.

And it feels stupid when you think of it. But maybe then you would convince yourself to let go. After all, today isn't your day, it's Jin's.

That old man is getting older and you need to appreciate his friendship and your other friends, before time passes by and you lose them too.

You've clearly been distant from them for a while now. You stopped going out with them, and meeting up with them in general. You always seem to use work as an excuse, and of course they never commented on it but they knew. They knew you were just drowning in your sadness.

But like you said, today was the last day. You're going to be more productive now. You'll fold your blankets, and fix up your bed. Maybe even clean your room a bit, since it looks like a tornado hit.

Your life was starting again today.

It only took a couple of hours, but you managed to clean your whole apartment, and just thinking about it makes you want to tear up. You thought for sure, you'd give up half way through cleaning, like you always do.

But for some reason, you didn't today. You accomplished something on your own, with no help. And it made you feel proud? happy? Maybe both. Because for the first time, you didn't rely on someone, and maybe you're over exaggerating, but for once you didn't care.

You were trying to let your emotions be valid.

Of course. You’re worse than today’s weather. You kept changing your mind. Because just like that, your happiness turned into nervousness.

You took a quick glance at the clock on your wall and it was time for you to get ready. You suddenly feel a slap to your face, as you're wanting nothing more then to call your two friends over.

So much for being independent and not needing to rely on someone anymore.

You walk towards the kitchen table, because you remember that was the last time you had your phone. And unknowingly form a pout, when you realize that your phone was indeed not anywhere near the kitchen area.

You sigh as you scan all over the rooms, under the couches, and even cross your fingers for someone to text or call you. But your phone is drier than a desert. And that was no where near an exaggeration, because it was the truth. its your fault though, you never answer peoples text or calls.

A knock on the door was heard, and you just knew that Jimin was behind that door. You also knew that he probably brought extra clothes, like some tights that would look "sexy" on you. Because Jimin likes to think that tights go with everything. And he also just has a weird obsession with tights if you really think about it.  

Or worse, he's brought an even sluttier dress, because he just thinks that if you wear something slutty, you're automatically not sad anymore.

To be honest, the logic is there. Just not when it involves someone as insecure as you.

You also don't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing your shocked face as you open the door, so instead you yell, "the door is open come in!" And continue searching for your damn stupid phone.

You decide to go back and check the kitchen one more time, and funny enough it's sitting right where you first had left it. You really need to get your eyes check, it's started to getting embarrassing.

As the door opens, you look through your messages and see one message from Taehyung. You debate if you should open it as your finger is placed right on top of the message. But instead choose to place your phone down on the counter and shut it off.

"I would have thought that the second time was going to work. I guess that’s why they say the third times the charm"

That voice. That bad humor. That deep awkward laugh. That feeling in your heart, when you think of  him.

"Taehyung?"

taglist: @bjoriis @btsbangers @kimxhanbin131 @got7usernames @gotjimin13 @laylasbunbunny @rjsmochii @jhopeshopee @taeriffic @shydestinyyouth @tarahardcore @bloodline1632 @turnthepageandbeburnt @starbtslove @whoa-jo @starlight-night0 @taebangtanbabe

[starter-library]

THE GUY WHO DIDN'T LIKE MUSICALS LYRIC STARTERS feel free to change phrasing/pronouns as you see fit

“Musicals tell the impossible (impossible) They evoke the philosophical”

“Should we kill him?”

“What an ass! What a bitch! What a cuck!”

“The apotheosis is upon us”

“Where the fuck is he?”

“You gotta believe in something, [name], you piece of shit”

“[Name] you piece of shit”

“Sometimes I just wanna shout on top of roof and mountain tops”

“Yesterday is retroactive Got myself a new perspective”

“What the fuck was that?”

“I may not have a home but that's way okay”

“The world is my house, The dogs are my food”

“Uh, what's going on here?! I'm very confused and concerned by all this”

“Do you wanna save the planet?”

“What do you want, [name]? Tell me what you desire to see”

“So, what do you want, Paul? What's that one concrete goal that motivates all your actions?”

“I don't know, I want what anyone wants? Money, a partner? Kids, someday, maybe?”

“A man so vague just can't be trusted”

“D'you know what I want for myself? I've waited for so long to tell somebody else.”

“You're my muse, my source of light”

“[name] my love. I want you to choke me out at night”

“I want you to choke me while I jerk off”

“I'm gonna go get some coffee, do you want anything?”

“Get your cup of roasted coffee”

“Get your cup of poisoned coffee”

“You better empty out all of them pockets but don't empty out all of them pockets”

“Check your mirror, you'll find hell has arrived”

“Do the things I say, I'm a cop”

“Put in your mouth and suck it!”

“Oh, [name], please stop! I'm your wife, just talk to me, baby!”

“God, we were young once. Innocent and fun once and free”

“You tied up my heart, You tied me down”

“Now break me open with your love and mercy”

“[name], baby! Apple of my eye! Don't you trust me?”

“I've effed up, [name], effed up with you”

“Will you ever forgive me? I'll crawl on my hands and knees”

“Oh fuck, I'm fading fast, I think you better come quick”

“I really don't wanna die alone in here. Time to say our goodbyes at the end of the road”

“This body's not gonna last, the air is cold and thick”

“You brought me back from the dead, [name]!”

“The time for chaos is long past overdue”

“Death isn't optional in fact it’s optimal”

“Join us and die”

“We're gonna kick your ass and then we're gonna Fucking kick your ass”

“I'm not your girl anymore”

“You left me out of your sight for one second and look what happens, nightmare time”

“No matter what you believe The apple's fallen far from the tree”

“It's not my fault anymore”

“Did you know that I wanted to live with you?

“Why does it hurt to love you? Why am I in pain?”

“If I turned my insides out, would you even know that I was there?”

“A show stoppin' number is something you die for”

“This song's pretty good, huh? I bet you didn't know I was also a composer”

“I've also been writing my own musical…Do you mind if I give you the pitch?”

“But those glory days, they're gone for good…Or are they?”

“Business calls, I'm up to my ass in shit. What is this business?”

“Last weekend feels like ages ago”

“I can't wait to get home to my boys”

“Come on, [name] We've got some catching up to do”

“There's only room for right and wrong”

“You can't run”

“You're staring down the gun 'Cause you're easily disposed”

“Did you hear the word?”

“Is your heart so damp and bleak that you won’t give us a peek of your soul?”

“There's a voice inside of you on the edge of coming through”

“Am I dead? I’m coming apart at the seams!”

“I’ve never been happy wouldn’t that be nice?”

“Is my integrity worth anything at all?”

“Am I crazy? Maybe I’ve always been”

“What if I told you I made it and this is the life that I chose?”

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Don't you want to see me happy? Is it so tragically wrong?”

“We must go on with the show it's inevitable”

“I found my calling you can do the same now”

[justrainandcoffee]

That stormy day (Alfie Solomons x fem!oc) + (Alfie Solomons & friend!oc)

Masterlist

Summary: Lucy Winters slammed the door and left her house. Her damn father. She cared little and nothing about the storm that is hitting London that afternoon. She's furious. Walking to her friend's house, she saw a man attacking a girl. She didn't know her but she's ready to defend her. It happened that maybe she already knew her, at least her name.

Warnings: Some mentions of physical injuries and blood.

Words: 2k.

This fic was born reading Laur' fic, @emotionalcadaver where I learned that her beautiful oc, Lucy Winters, knows Alfie since they were teens. As you imagined, I screamed 🤭. I had to drag her temporarily to Alfie and Rose universe (or send them to hers...or Both things) so they could share at least one day together as nothing but young people.

It wasn't long ago that she and her family had moved from Yorkshire to London. Her three siblings, plus her parents were now living in the capital of England. Quite a change considering the quiet Yorkshire they had left behind.

What had not changed was the tension within the Winters family, ruled by a strict and closed-minded father who put his religious beliefs, often blinded by the Bible, and his own interests before those of his family. A mother completely submissive to her husband and children who were divided between venerating Mr. Winters or wanting to throw him to the lions. The firstborn, Lucy, believed that the lions were the better alternative.

It was raining like hell when she left the house slamming the door.

She had to get out of there or she was going to kill more than one in the family starting with her father and one of her brothers.

She could hear her brother Teddy calling out to her as she ran, but this time she ignored him. Not now. She needed to be alone.

A clap of thunder echoed in the sky. Lucy had gone out without any coat and now she was paying the consequences of it.

There was a house she knew, a boy, a friend. And there she was going.

Rose had taken her youngest brother to her grandmother's house. The middle one was with a friend and her mother was at work. Now she was coming home carrying a basket of eggs, vegetables and cheese. Some of it was legitimately purchased. Some of it was not. Not for the first time she had stolen food and would do it again even if her mother disapproved. In the girl's eyes, it was unfair that some had too much and some had none. It was the lack of balance in society that had driven her, again, to steal cheese from the Sabinis.

At least when Alfie came home from work she could share it with him. Sometimes she wondered if the feeling of butterflies in her stomach every time she thought of him would pass. She had been with him for three years, and at the moment that hadn't changed.

The rain was now falling torrentially all over London. Her brown hair was plastered to her face and the drops made it impossible to see properly. If she didn't get there soon she was going to catch a cold.

Rose picked up her pace. A couple more blocks and she would get there.

That was until she felt someone grab her arm and pull her back. A young man was pushing her against a wall, while holding her tightly.

It was Gianni Sabini, a cousin of Darby's, older than her. Rose tried to break free but couldn't.

"Rat! Stop stealing from my uncle, you Jewish whore!"

"Let me go!"

"I'd have to cut off your hand, they do that to thieves in other countries! We're too nice here!"

A clap of thunder sounded over their heads.

"Let me go, you son of a bitch!"

Gianni Sabini had a penknife in his hand. "I may not be able to cut your hand with this but I can teach you to think twice before you do it."

The cut on her hand caused the basket that, unbelievably, she was still holding to fall to the floor. But at the same time, something red crossed in front of her eyes and it wasn't her blood.

Rose didn't know where she had come from but a red haired girl, not only had she pulled Gianni out from in front of her, she was on top of the man threatening him with her own penknife.

"Don't touch women! Fucking piece of shit!"

Rose let out a gasp when she saw the girl smacked his head against the pavement. It suprised her, not the violence, but the strength of the girl considering she was probably the same height as she was.

Gianni wasn't dead, but he was clearly unconscious with the rain falling over him.

Used to the violence on the streets in that part of London, the few people walking there barely paid attention to him. Nor to the two girls.

"Are you okay? You're bleeding" the redhead girl, asked.

"Yes. And it hurts, but I don't think it's deep… uhm, thank you."

"No worries. I'm Lucy. Let me help you. Do you live nearby?"

"Almost two blocks, yeah… Thanks Lucy. I'm Rose."

While Lucy picked up the basket, Rose used her chal to bandage her hand. At least until she could use a proper bandage that her mother had in the house.

"Sorry about that," Lucy said. "The bastard was lucky that I didn't shot him. Do you know him?"

"Barely. I know his cousin, we used to go to school together. The Sabinis aren't very kind with anyone. Especially Jewish people. My boyfriend and him, fought more than once. This bastard is angry because I stole some cheese from the shop that his family has…" Rose looked briefly at the girl next to her and she felt a bit embarrassed by her actions. "…hard times," she said.

"Well, Rose, don't worry about it I stole his penknife," Lucy showed her the hand where she was holding the weapon.

Despite that her hand was still bleeding and the storm, Rose laughed.

.

The familiar streets of her house brought her peace. The key was in her pocket.

"Would you like to get in? At least you can get warm and I can prepare some tea, before you continue your way," Rose said. "My mom is working and my brothers aren't here, my boyfriend probably is about to come but he's friendly… well, sometimes. He lives next door."

Still in the rain, Lucy looked at her and then to the next door. "You're not Rose," she said "you're Rosie! You're Alfie's Rosie!"

"You know Alfie?"

Lucy chuckled "of course I know Alfie! And considering the times he talked about you, I already know you… my Rosie," she imitated him, finally accepting her invitation to get in the house.

.

Lucy helped her to bandaging her hand. The wound wasn't bleeding anymore, but still hurt. She also insisted on preparing some tea. And Rose couldn't stop her.

Rose only stood up when she heard knockings on the door. As she imagined, it was Alfie.

The boy entered the house before she could say 'hi' and greeted her with a kiss, pushing her against the wall. He never noticed the other girl grinning, while she was pouring tea in the teacups.

"I fuckin' missed you, luv. We're alone! Can we…? ya know… My day was fuckin' awful. We can cuddle afterwards. It's raining and…"

"We can't, Al. We're not alone," she replied, looking to where Lucy was. Alfie finally paid attention at the house.

"Hullo, Alfie."

"What?" The boy look at her like it was the first time seeing her "what the hell are you doin' 'ere?"

"I am planning how to steal your girlfriend."

Rose let out a chuckle before returning to her chair and the boy rolled his eyes. Alfie sat next to her and Lucy in front of them, "she saved me," Rose explained. "I was coming here when Gianni Sabini attacked me."

"Gianni Sabini, what?!?"

"It's nothing. I'm fine," she showed him her hurt hand. "I may or may not, stole from them again."

"I don't fuckin' care! I'm goin'to kill him! Fuck him! I'm going to kill Darby too, fuckers!! Rosie, I'm sorry, pet" Alfie kissed her hand. Then, he asked Lucy "do ya kill him?"

"Nah. But I almost broke his skull against the pavement."

"Fuck, Luces! You're a little demon aren't, ya? well, it's just a wop."

"Alfie…" this time it was Rose who interrupted. She didn't like when he talked like that about the Italians even if they're were famous for their expression against the jews. Alfie just ignored it, in his mind planning a revenge against the Sabinis. No one touched his girl.

"So, Luces, what're ya doing here?"

Lucy looked at her teacup before answering. On the table the strawberry pie that Alfie had baked the day before was waiting to be eaten.

"My fucking father, of course…"

Neither of the three teens at table could say that their fathers were extraordinary. Quite the contrary.

For Alfie that wasn't new. For the very first moment he had learnt that Mr. Winters was nothing but a piece of shit. Alfie saw her friend stirring the cup.

"…same old story. He thinks he's the only one who's right. We're nothing but a waste of time and money. My mother says nothing. She's not bad person… but she's so afraid of him. At least for a couple of hours I had to ran away. This Sabini just crossed my way at the perfect time because it helped me to channeling my frustrations."

"Good. At least a Sabini was useful for once…" Alfie cut a piece of pie and served it to Lucy "told ya, as soon as you can run away from there because things with people like him never ends well."

"Easier to say than do," she ate a bit of the pie and smiled. Sugar always helped with people's mood. "He remembered me that I'm going to marry only the man he chooses for me. And I know the kind of man that's awaiting for me. A piece of shit like him. Excusing his actions behind the lord's words. Fucking hypocrite."

The young couple said nothing, they just let the other girl talk "…probably I'm going to ran away, yes. Bristol, Liverpool, Birmingham… I don't care."

A new thunder.

"Seems I need to go. Or the night is going to caught me here. But I don't want to."

"If this won't cause any trouble you can stay here for the night," Rose said "My brothers' beds are free tonight. And my mom doesn't care if a friend is here. Better here than the streets. Alfie can sleep in his own bed…"

"No, I can't. I need cuddles," the boy kissed her cheek.

"Al…"

"I'll behave. I promise, we have guests. And how old is she, by the way? Nine? Ten?"

"Fuck you, Alfie Solomons!" Lucy pointed at him with the teaspoon. "You're lucky your girlfriend is here."

.

Mrs. Coldwell greeted the new girl with kindness when she arrived from work and later that night the four of them were eating a dinner prepared by her. They laughed at old anecdotes that Lucy had from Yorkshire. Outside was still raining, but there no one noticed that.

At bedtime, Rose gave Lucy one of her nightgowns. In the morning, Lucy had to return to her house, whether she liked or not and Rose had to go to the infamous Evert's house. But for now, both of them were gossiping at the light of the candles. Giggling like the teens they still were. Alfie supposedly was sleeping in the couch but as soon as Mrs. Coldwell went to sleep, he went to where he really wanted to be: his girlfriend's bed.

At sunrise, when she woke up, Lucy saw them sleeping together and smiled. They were cute. Alfie was still with his clothes on, meaning that they did nothing but sleep all night. But he was holding her tightly against him.

Lucy ask herself if one day she too, will be capable of experiencing that kind of love.

Probably. Life couldn't be just bad things right?

She could see the first rays of sunshine. No more rain. The thought of her father made her angry again but she decided not to think about him for now. She heard sounds in the kitchen, probably Mrs. Coldwell. Lucy put her clothes on again, left the nightgown on the bed and left the couple alone.

Lucy left the house before they had wake up. Watching the people around them and thinking about nothing in particular she barely noticed when she left the old Camden Town behind her. She put her hands in her pockets and smiled when she felt the penknife.

If his father in the future keep being an asshole, then she'd kill him. In her mind, the idea wasn't that crazy. She knew he deserved it. '"And run away"…Alfie was right, she needed to ran away. And for some reason, Birmingham sounded like a good place to start again.

Not now, but one day.

[stilemawillow]

Loverboy [Jotaro Kujo | Reader]

So, think I met Jotaro about… a month ago? Maybe a bit more. I’m not the bad guy by any means – there’s just followers of the cult all around. White-haired buzzcut guy spewing bullshit about revenge. I’m young and breezy, I want no trouble. I’m no part of no band – no delusions there. I just got friends, need to return favours and hooked on love. See, so that’s the key most times. But also, like, you could call it a release and a sealant at the same time.

I was five when my momma told me stories about love. She ain’t ever love my father, though. There were cigarette butts and liquor bottles all around the house. Nice little picture right there. No modern stuff. Sundresses and hats – she beat my ass when I asked what the weird balloons in my dad’s pockets were for. So, you see, love isn’t all peachy all the time. Hard to fight for it. My momma fought for it constantly. Oh, and when she lost the battle, she was beaten. But like, repeatedly. Wore sunglasses a lot. Didn’t curse, though. Bless her little soul. My father loved too much was all.

I loved a lot like him – high school came easy and popularity was a competition I didn’t bother to win. Was mine to begin with.

I have my dad’s good looks and my momma’s patience. The old man died some two years ago – his lady took off her ring way before but she’s doing good in the nursing home. So I’m what? Young, handsome, loving and just a bit weird. It makes me cool, though. How I got in with the friends I’m currently doing favours for – you could see I had a falling out with a band, then a girl slapped me, and another one, and some pink shoes were in a dumpster down the street, my car bumper wasn’t doing well, I switched locations, ain’t nobody chasing me and, well, it’s a long story.

I’ve personally got nothing against nobody. Unless they disrespect love. And I can tell you Jotaro Kujo’s big on disrespect.

Disrespect this and that and him and her and – who are you to be calling women bitches when they just want a piece? God, you gotta thank them and give them love. So our main guy had a problem, dragged his geezer along for it – if I’m not mistaken, a Frenchman, a cherry-lover and a weird shaman were involved, too. And the fucking dog – tell you the truth, dogs are no best friend, they the devil waiting for a weak spot to lunge at.

So, a merry band goes to kill a vampire with a big following. Of course some are going to get angry. I’m not one of them, I’ve only listened to stories. Here and there, and this one’s a dirtbag, that died, those were nasty, we laughed here and ran there, lots of failure and now we’re here.

I’m not a man who fails – have that as a disclaimer. So, it might be forty days since I met Jotaro now. You know, for a big as fuck disrespecter, he’s trying to be smart and, I gotta give it to him, he manages. Dreams – marine or something biology. Fine with me. Not interesting since it’s got no love inside of it but hey, perfection runs short these days. And I know from experience it’s hard being a good guy.

So, if you’ll be asking how I met Jotaro – we bumped once. Didn’t say sorry or anything. That when I knew the favour will be a breeze when it came to conscience. No guilt can torment me over a guy who don’t even say sorry when he bumps into you. Ah, but that’s not the important point. So, this job takes a bit of devotion and some inspection. I have to be careful with schedules, placements and the time of day. I also need collateral damage. I’m good at picking that shit out. Trust me on this. So I’m doing my thing, following, looking, inspecting, analysing – shouldn’t underestimate me when it comes to analysing.

I can sniff impossible love across a street. Cause some people just stink, you know? Jotaro especially. So it don’t really matter who collateral damage is. All it matters is to find somebody as stinky. And there’s this girl, man, they’ve probably talked twice or something of the sort. Share all their university classes. My momma would laugh if she knew I ever stepped foot inside a university. Back to the point. The girl stinks and Jotaro stinks. A match made in heaven. Pichit will have a fucking blast when I tell him about it later.

So, I got my collateral damage – a smarty pants with terrible hair. She’s got nice ears, though. Not big enough of a redemption but still. Nice feet, too. All I need is the placement and their university’s got this gorgeous fountain. Green stuff around, birds chirping, nice things. If they’re lucky, I’ll pin the time to two in the afternoon so they can have lots of sunlight. But that depends on circumstances, not on me.

Target – check. Collateral damage – check. Placement – check.

I need a time and that’s all up to fate but inspection lets me believe it should be coming along soon. You see, their schedules just barely brush at the fountain each Thursday. For – what? – fifty days now, I been watching the moment come closer and closer. They gotta come in contact or nothing’s gonna work out. But I said, I’m patient like my momma. And then we’ve got about a second to go and the job is done. It’s complicated shit when you’re telling it to somebody dumb. But I need lots of ingredients and, how do I dumb this down? I make prisons out of love. Here you go. Simplest description there is.

I’m hanging around on the rooftop, swinging legs and all, waiting for lunch break. I’ll probably have to hang around for another week before I can get to work but, hey, sandwiches here are pretty good. I have a perfect view of the fountain, too. I push my sunglasses and I see that big disrespecter come out of the building. It’s just the thing. He sits on the side of the fountain.

Some chick comes along begging for love and he’s being rude. And then my pretty collateral damage shows up – opposite direction, heading for him. Not for him, though. I know she sits on the other side of the fountain. But if there’s contact, there’s a miracle. I’m hanging off the edge of my seat. Literally. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up repaying favours from the clouds.

“You, bitch, come over here.” Or so I can picture him saying it. His hand waves. The chick next to him is smiling – wait, shit, there’s a spot on my sunglasses. No, no, she’s frowning. My collateral damage stops in front of them. I lean down further and stick out my tongue in concentration. You know, the worst part is not hearing shit when you gotta keep a distance. Something splatters on my shoulder. Man, this is a brand new suit. Fuck that bird. Oh, this stinks. And while I’m wiping at my suit with my glove – remind me to throw it away immediately after – there’s a giant as fuck splash down by the fountain.

Correction, in the fountain. I nearly gape when I look. Shit, fuck, this is perfect. Golden opportunity if I’ve ever seen one. My collateral damage’s in the fountain, soaked from head to toe. Jotaro probably pushed her. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Oh, this is spicy. She slaps his hand away when he reaches out for some reason. Dude, why you gotta make it worse on the girl you pushed? But this is my moment of contact. And here goes the job.

You gotta meet my buddy – Loverboy. Real cute guy. So I snap my fingers and he snaps his and it’s done. Well, not that quickly, but when we’re out of the loop, it will be. And I’ll still have to wash the freaking suit the bird shat on. Pichit will be paying for it. Now, honestly, all I gotta do is sit and watch the show. Do hope they make it interesting for me.

“What’s going on?” Big wide eyes and clothes sticking to a shivering body.

“Hold still.” A commanding voice. She’s standing in the fountain and she can feel the water creating nasty friction between her socks and her toes. He’s looking around. He’s got the same mean look he does every day. It’s pissing her off because, all of a sudden, everybody’s gone and he’s telling her to hold still like it’ll make people reappear.

“Don’t tell me to sit still, Kujo. This is weird. I need to try to find somebody.” She crosses her arms and his eyes strike her, glaring sternly even when he’s the one sitting down.

“I told you not to move.” He tries to reach for her but she huffs and turns around, crossing the fountain and making water pour on the ground when she steps out and shakes her head before heading for the building.

He glares at her back and cautiously rises from his seat. This is a Stand at work. But whose? He needs to figure out the ability and the range. There’s nobody around when he was surrounded by people a second ago. And why is (Y/N) the only one with him? It has something to do with the ability, he’s sure of it. Either that or she’s the Stand user. A scream echoes and he whips his head in its direction. He sees brain particles splattered on the door frame as it crushes her.

Just let me make a small disclaimer again. I can’t laugh in situations like this because I’ll be found quickly. But, man, seeing Jotaro the disrespecter’s shock when the door takes out my collateral damage – precious. Beyond precious.

And trust me, I don’t like squashing pretty ladies. But this one’s in for a lot of squashing and impaling and whatever else I can think of. Because, you know, I gotta make things plausible. Not just dangerous. And with how little chemistry there’s here, one or the other is sure to walk away from the safe starting point I picked out. I just have to wait for it and bam. But also, I didn’t actually think the door would work. If it hadn’t, I would’ve probably resorted to a bit of legwork. And I always have to kickstart shit because it’s not fun if I just leave them be. We all need a shock factor. Anyway.

First try. First fail. I think I’m aiming for twenty or so. Sounds plausible. Jotaro’s strong and he’s seen some shit so he’ll beat the average ten. But what’s twenty battles when you’re losing the war? Yeah, exactly – nothing. Oh, this will be quick, easy and fun. I love when things are quick, easy and fun.

The same vacant yard. The same building. The doors are intact. Jotaro’s back to sitting down. His eyes widen and he glances at the fountain. She’s there and she makes no attempt to stand up. Wet from head to toe, staring ahead. She can’t see anything.

“Stand still now,” he commands immediately, reaching out a protective hand to prevent any movement in case she tries to be reckless again. This is without a doubt a Stand’s ability. But it doesn’t give him any hints as to the range and the essence of it. It gives him nothing besides the fact they shouldn’t go into the building. It would be safest not to move at all. 

“I died.” Her voice quivers and her shoulders are shaken by violent tremors when he looks down at her. “It was real,” she whispers blankly, eyes wide with horror. His lips purse. He can’t make sense of this just yet but he knows now at least she’s not the Stand user. In that case, he has to protect her. He tells her she’s fine and she registers his presence. “You’re not the one who felt it! Kujo, I fucking died! It--- my fucking arm and my head---“ But she’s frantic and he has to lean over to grasp her shoulder.

“Quiet. I’ll get us out.” He lets it slip and she immediately asks if he knows what’s going on. “No. Not yet.” His eyes are scanning the space. The building seems empty. There’s no place around the yard that can hide a person and a Stand. It could be a long-range. She’s asking him what he knows. He keeps quiet. Approaching the building is dangerous. The opposite direction could be safe. He’ll have to test it. What’s the essence of this ability? Encapsulation, isolation – but a normal human is here, too. He hasn’t encountered such ability before. She’s saying he has to tell her because she died back there. He sighs. “This is the work of a Stand user. Our circumstances are the ability of the Stand.”

“And a Stand is?” She’s staring at him doubtfully while he explains a Stand is the manifestation of the owner’s soul and nobody knows exactly where they originate from. “So… a manifestation of somebody’s soul wiped everybody out and killed me?” She seems more and more dumbstruck by the second. She tries to scoot closer to his edge of the fountain.

“I don’t think everybody’s wiped out.” It would be impossible. A Stand cannot have such instantaneously giant destructive power and wield manipulation of space at the same time. If it did and he was the target, he would’ve died, too. She says that they’ve been wiped out and he shakes his head. “We could’ve been transported.” It’s the most plausible conclusion taking into account everything else.

“What, like an isolated case?” She’s staring up at him while he tries to surmise their surroundings again. Everything is faithful to reality but there are no other life forms besides them two. No birds when there were birds. No insects as far as he can see. It’s a mental trick.

“It’s the only thing I can think of which would allow for a restart the moment you died.” Because bending reality and time like that was impossible even for The World. It could freeze time for seconds but it couldn’t warp the physical world at will. Even Jotaro can’t. And when she asks if this is a mental or physical space because dying felt pretty real to her, he snorts. “It’s a mental space, no doubt. Now I just need to find the Stand user.”

“But if it’s a mental space, he won’t be here,” she argues instantly. His eyes narrow at her face – there’s water trickling down it. He knows she’s smart. He knows she’s quick to soak up information – quicker than him. He likes that about her. She might even prove to not be a nuisance while he’s trying to figure this out.

“So I have to gauge the ability more. If he’s here, I’ll find him. If he’s not, I’ll have to find a way out. He’s affecting the space around us so it’s a relatively long-range Stand. Which means it might be useless in close combat. When we find him, we’re out.” Jotaro stands up and spins in order to inspect the yard from all directions. They shouldn’t near the doors but can they go and check out the opposite side? And where would a Stand hide in here?

“You’re speaking from experience,” she observes solemnly. He spares her one look and doesn’t say anything. This requires more logic than it does strength. “What? So all of this is actually true and I’m supposed to believe it?” She’s just a bit outraged. He makes a step towards the fence on the left.

“Whichever you choose, don’t move.” The order is flat and harsh, and she sits in the fountain, crossed arms and a glare aimed at his back.

“You say, while you’re moving. What are you doing?” He nears the fence and tries to estimate whether movement in any direction signifies danger.

He’s about to look up when he can hear something moving down by his feet. The stone moves quickly but Star Platinum emerges just in time and grabs it as it's about to smash into Jotaro’s face. (Y/N)’s eyes widen at the happening. She can’t see anything but the rock hanging in the air next to Jotaro’s head. It happens way too quickly. Star Platinum is busy when the fence bends and pierces his chest. The pain is so indescribably familiar and he hates it. The sensation of dying isn’t so palpable.

“Seriously? You told me to sit still while you went ahead and died?” Her voice is loud and reproachful and he’s back at the fountain, sitting on the cold stone side while she’s inside, wet from head to toe and scowling at him.

“It wasn’t my intention.” But this proves it doesn’t matter who dies for the setting to restart. It also means the death isn’t truly real – if it was, the job would be done since he’s the target. There’s more to this ability. And surely, there’s a door of opportunity for them to leave its influence.

“Let’s just sit still and talk this time, okay?” She sits with her legs crisscrossed in the fountain and scoots closer. “Who is doing this to us? Not in the sense of a Stand user because I’ll just have to accept that part. I mean, who wants to kill us?” He sighs and says he’s the target since this is a Stand user. “You have how many enemies?” She quirks a brow and he looks at the way she wipes the water off her face. The sunlight makes each drop glimmer.

“I thought none,” he says with an averted gaze. She huffs and gets to clearing the wet hair from her forehead. He glances once and regrets it. Her neck is bare and while she’s flipping the hair behind her shoulders, he sees the way her shirt sticks to her chest.

“So we can’t figure out the person’s identity based on who you’ve spited,” she concludes slowly. “If you’re the target, why am I here?” He instantly dismisses that as unimportant. She gives a firm look. “I think it’s not. Now, I feel like you’re speaking Italian when you’re talking about Stands but they’ve got abilities. This particular one needs me here to be activated. So, is it a random pick or an ingredient?” He hasn’t thought about it but it’s more important to find the Stand user and beat his teeth out.

“I can’t say.” It’s a random pick at best in his opinion. He can’t be concerned with why it’s exactly her. But maybe he won’t be able to beat the Stand user seeing as this is a case of mental isolation. Could be a hallucination, an inner world, a visual trick or a way to manipulate and combine consciousness.

“We have to inspect that. Maybe it’s the way to getting out,” she insists on pursuing what for him is a dead end and he snorts at her adamancy.

“First, there’s no ‘we’ here. Second, all I need to do is find the Stand. Somebody is controlling our surroundings and if they’re confined in a mental space, the Stand has to be here to observe and monitor it.” In the least, the Stand would be present. The user can’t chart out a predictable script for their behavioural changes – he has to monitor and adjust his tactics according to their actions.

“And how do you plan on finding the Stand when we can’t move from the fountain?” She argues with a challenging look, making him glare. “I think my approach is better for our circumstances.” So she crawls out of the fountain carefully and sits next to him, glancing down at his backpack. “Can I use your notebook?” He sighs and waves a hand to convey that she can do whatever she wants. He turns to observe the fence that impaled him. Like the door, it wasn’t plausible for it to move in the way it did. Next to him, the girl chuckles. “This is cute, Kujo. It looks a bit like me.”

“It’s not you.” His head whips so he can observe what she’s talking about. Her fingers are leaving wet prints on his notebook and the page in the back is home to a sketch. He was bored and she was just two rows away. She was also the best subject. Her hair was nice that day. And she always seems to be immersed in classes she enjoys – her expression is very specific then. And pretty.

“It has my signature bun. And those right here are my favourite earrings,” she points out with a smug smile. His jaw clenches and he turns away from the drawing. “You had to look a lot to get the details. But my elbow’s a bit off. You weren’t listening in Anatomy class.” She’s mocking him and her elbow is nudging his arm. He purposefully moves further away and glares at the building to his left.

“Just shut up, (L/N).” But he can feel heat creeping up his neck and crawling into his face. His teeth are gritted. So what if he drew her that one time? It was a mistake anyway. Like when he stares at her. Or asks for her notes. She asks for his, too. They’ve had lunch together a few times. And just before the fucking Stand attacked, he might’ve been on his way to help her out of the fountain after the other girl pushed her and suggested that she wear his jacket.

“Are you embarrassed, Kujo?” She drawls with a smirk and water is dripping from the ends of her hair onto the notebook. She flips to another page so as to not ruin the sketch. “I’d show you how I made a cursive of your name when I was bored in Zoology but it’s drenched.” The offer makes him huff. His eyes are still on the university building on his left. She reaches into his backpack for a pen. “What if this is the link? I mean, us.” He’s about to call it ridiculous when he hears her breath hitch. She’s toppling over and he just barely catches her.

The fucking pen is jabbed into her throat.

She’s choking on the blood and there’s a gurgling sound just barely leaving her lips. His heart freezes at the sight. Her eyes are staring at him pleadingly. He swears he’s never felt this helpless. But also, this death is not real. It’s not real. The pain is hot and terrible but it’s not real. Three blinks later, she tries to say something. Doesn’t manage. And then she’s back in the fountain and the water isn’t turning pink because her blood’s dripping into it.

He lets out a ragged breath and reaches for her. Her eyes are wide, brows pinched together and she grabs his hand with no hesitation, clinging to it like her life depends on it. The shock will become too much for her at some point. He has to get them out before that. He pulls her closer, and slowly coaxes her out of the fountain and next to him. Water’s dripping from her, seeping into his clothes as he lets her cling to his arm for support and her breaths are quick and panicky.

He won’t be parting his eyes from her this time. Not for a fucking second. He’s responsible for this.

“Did you get scared, Kujo? You don’t let people touch you just like that.” She’s trying to mock him but she’s trembling and he tells her to shut up before grabbing his backpack and tossing it across the yard. Her fingers are weakly clutching his jacket. Maybe it’s about time he gave it to her because this might be a mental prison of some sort, but the sensations accompanying every action are very real. “I got scared. I couldn’t breathe. I don’t want us to be here.” Her lips are pursed and slowly pries her hands from his arm so he can take off his jacket.

“I’ll get us out.” He drapes it over her shoulders and she looks up at him, asking if he’ll do it her way. His lips purse. He still sees no sense in that. “Crack the ability by discovering why you’re here?” She nods and swears there’s a connection before asking if Stand abilities have ultimatums. He shakes his head. “They’re usually fit for combat. I haven’t seen such a Stand before,” he concedes with a lowered head. She scoots closer.

“And if there’s a way to get out without fighting it? It could be why I’m here.” He quirks a brow at the inquiry. Getting out without a fight seems too optimistic. And this isn’t supposed to be a puzzle.

“For conditions to be met?” She nods and her hair is wet. She tugs the jacket’s collar so it envelops her back better. It’s too big for her. She’s still shivering when, a minute of silence later, she asks if he has a Stand. “His name’s Star Platinum.” There’s a chance they won’t remember this after they get out.

“And you’ve fought Stands before?” She looks up at him. Her eyes are big and they twinkle in the sunlight. His lips purse as he remembers Egypt.

“I’ve killed their users, too. When a Stand dies, so does the user.” She doesn’t nod but he sees the fleeting shadow of horror on her face. He doesn’t want to scare her but she’s the one asking the questions. Of course, he can choose not to answer them. He doesn’t know why her presence predisposes him to honesty. He’s talkative around her. It’s weird.

“But if this Stand user’s goal is to kill you, he should’ve managed when… you know.” Her brows furrow and she puts a hand to her chin. The jacket slips off her shoulder. He reaches over and adjusts it. “And if the point of this is to restart when either of us dies, its goal lies in another course of action altogether. And maybe that’s why I’m here as an ingredient.” Her theory is as adamant as she is. But if her speculation is true, that means he either has to find the Stand or figure out the conditions he has to meet to get them out.

“What’s the course of action we need to take then?” He knows she’s smart. He respects her because she’s smart. She knows when to talk and when to think. Knows when to act and when to observe. Her intelligence has fascinated him since long before. But she only shakes her head now and says she hasn’t gotten that far. Silence settles again. He thinks about the conditions and the position of the Stand. He thinks about how he can move and act without leaving her alone or putting her in danger.

“Why have you fought Stands before?” She’s curious and he says it’s a long story. Quietly, he admits his mother was in danger. “How long ago was that?” She’s looking up at him and he snorts. He doesn’t like to think about it. When he thinks about it, he remembers Kakyoin. They could’ve studied here together.

“Three years.” And he got over it and kept going but he has so many nightmares it’s unbearable sometimes. He sees the pity slowly crawl over (Y/N)’s features. It makes her nose scrunch a bit at the bridge. Two wrinkles. They’re three when she’s disgusted. And two between the brows when she’s concentrating in class. “Why did you ask for my notes in our first year?” He doesn’t know why he asks it. She snorts and smiles.

“You were so antisocial I wanted to be your friend. You also seemed grumpy all the time. I didn’t actually need them but they were nice. You’re really diligent, Kujo.” The compliment makes him click his tongue before he says that’s not enough to cover up the fact she just called him antisocial. And the pity if there again for a second. “I get it now. So why did you give me your notes?” She asks in return and he rolls his eyes.

“Because I’m not a jerk.” She keeps staring like there’s another reason. He remembers it like it was yesterday – she stopped him after class and roped him into a roundabout introduction before begging for his notes. And he caught her lying because he learned later that the corner of her mouth twitches when she lies. She lied that she didn’t know his name. “Your smile was nice.” He can’t believe the nonsense he’s spilling but she only chuckles.

“Not anymore?” He doesn’t say anything when she teases him but he can deny it. Her smile is still very pretty. “You know, Kujo, that time you asked my favourite colour.” They were having lunch. She asked his. And then she lied that she didn’t know her own but he didn’t press. Now her smile didn’t twitch. “It’s actually your eyes. If it weren’t for the muscles and the dark and mysterious aura, you’d have fangirls because of them.” He scowled at the mention of fangirls and she snickered. “What? You don’t enjoy your fangirls?”

“No.” He hates them, in fact. Because he’s here to study, not to be surrounded by hordes of obnoxious girls. She is the only girl whose presence he can tolerate. It might have something to do with the smile.

“And if I was a fangirl? You’d be insulting me.” But he immediately says she’s not, to which she nudges him with her elbow. “True. My approach is way calmer. And better. Staying quietly in the periphery actually brings me a lot closer.” In order to prove it, she scoots closer. Her shoulder presses against his arm and he decides to leave it be. Then she jumps up. “Wait for a second, that’s it!”

“Stay down.” He grabs her wrist and tries to pull her down but she fights and turns to face him. She’s standing in front of him and their heights are levelled like this. He can see her eyes flicker excitedly as she tugs – not to free her wrist from his hold but to drag him along.

“No, it’s fine. We need to go. Inside, right now.” He says her name when she attempts to rush off towards the building and his fingers clutch her wrist harder. He can’t let her be harmed again. “Hear me out, Kujo. You said the Stand at least has to be here to monitor us, right?” She talks the same way when she’s cracked the code to a nasty question they’ve been asked in class. “And we don’t get harmed unless we step away from the fountain or come in contact with anything that can be used as a weapon. This means the Stand is watching us from the periphery – from a place that lets it analyse which objects it can use on us. I doubt it can see through walls.”

“So the building is a safe place,” he finishes her thought and she grins.

“Exactly. And it kept me from going inside the first time because the door was all it could see.” It sounds logical. It sounds too logical and it also sounds like a weakness they can use to their advantage. He can’t leave her alone so he’ll take her along. He stands and her wrist wriggles in his hold. He lets go and follows her towards the entrance. What’s the only place that allows a perfect view of the fountain?

“It’s on the roof.” His eyes dart upwards. They’re closing in on the door when he sees the railing on the steps leading to the entrance rip itself from the concrete and bend in her direction. He acts quickly but not wisely. He pushes her out of the way but he’s the one who suffers for it. A scream gets stuck at the back of her throat. The door comes undone and pierces him.

So, I gotta tell you that love is all about sacrifice. That happening down there is no sacrifice to me. I mean, love is about sacrificing others, not yourself. Love is about power, too. My old man liked to sacrifice others and my momma was powerful – they had love right there, somewhere between the bottles and the weird balloons. Whatever happens, Jotaro the disrespecter can’t love. Not really. Maybe his own mom, sure, but like – a piece of work like the collateral damage? Yeah, no way. I’m confident about that. Like I’m confident about a lot of other stuff.

Like when Pichit was about to break his leg on the rollercoaster or when Don lost his shoes and I told him the racoon got them. They don’t believe shit, those friends of mine. But it’s fine because we have our bromance and sometimes, we trust each other. Like they trust me with this favour and I trust they’ll wash my suit after it’s done. Loverboy, I gotta tell you, has real good eyes. Like an eagle. And sure, he needs a spot to watch from but I always pick a good spot for him. He’s my best friend because, you know, he’s me in a way. We both got good style. We love a lot and we hate people who can’t love. Strongest bond ever.

I think I got him when I was sixteen or something of the sort. Could’ve been seventeen. But he was no scary thing to me. Actually, he was my buddy right off the bat. Took me a while to figure out what he does but, hey, every friendship needs time to blossom. Kind of like when you’re getting to know a girl and she can make a cartwheel but she also wears flip-flops often. You gotta measure the sacrifice. Do I love the cartwheel or hate the flip-flops? But Loverboy and I got no such problems. We’re a good team and we’re strong in our own way. My momma used to say a friend’s there for you through thick and thin. No kidding. And that---

Ah, shit. Why do I have to waste so much time preventing stuff? I don’t fail so we got that. But seriously – why’s she protecting Jotaro now? Welp, here goes the sharp fence. I didn’t pick the fountain as a starting point for nothing. I can do this all day and they can’t stop it. Can’t figure it out anyway. What, like they’re geniuses? And I’m told Jotaro likes to work alone so there ain’t no chance in hell he’s going to warm up to teamwork, much less feelings besides frustration and helplessness when he’s in danger. He don’t give half a fuck for my collateral damage, dragging her along or not. If he leaves her alone, I shoot my shot. I don’t miss so that’s that.

Oh, how cute, he’s giving her his jacket. If it was me, I would’ve straight-up told her to take off her clothes. But the disrespecter’s not experienced or interested enough in true love tactics. Which proves to me I’ll be out of here and on my way in about… a second. It’s always a second anyway. Less sometimes. I’m good at mind games and not so much at calculation. But this don’t take no calculation. It takes patience. I got more of that than them. More love, too. Oh, here goes again. Let’s do the window this time. Haha. Quick, easy and fun. I’m having so much fun. What’s that? Oh. Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

They’re inside. Shit. I won’t be telling Pichit this part. If he asks, they never got away from the fountain. If you try to tell, well, who’s he gonna believe? You or me? Yeah, I thought so, too. Now I need to do some legwork. If you’ll excuse me.

“I think we’ll be fine here for a while.” He watches her slump against the whiteboard in the classroom on the second floor with a sigh. Water is dripping from her clothes and she grabs a marker from the professor’s desk. “Let’s get down to thinking. This is either a time capsule, an isolated loop or whatever. And we’re here. What do we have in common?” She’s writing on the whiteboard and he’s leaning against the first row where she usually sits.

“Our major,” he joins in the speculations reluctantly, making her shake her head. She writes down their names next to each other and hums.

“I’m thinking more character-wise. It’s a bit like a grumpy-sunshine trope.” He clearly doesn’t understand it and she clearly doesn’t want to explain. She draws a small raincloud next to his name and a small sun next to her own. He scoffs. “So, we’re opposites more often than not. We interact often. But why today?” He instantly says they can’t be sure whether the Stand user chose today purposefully or just activated his Stand the moment he got here. “The fountain’s a good spot he shouldn’t have known about, though. Visitors aren’t allowed on campus so he’s either sneaked in or is part of the student body.” For some reason, Jotaro doubts the latter. He would notice a Stand user in the student body.

“You’re saying he’s inspected the place?” He asks with a frown and she points out the fountain is a perfect starting point that can be guarded at all times from the roof. He admits it is. This has taken some research at least. The Stand user would have to familiarise himself with the place. Which means Jotaro has gotten too rusty from living normally to notice his presence.

“Again.” She taps the marker against their names and draws his attention back to the board. “We’re opposites. What do we make of that?” He makes nothing of it because the Stand user’s goal is to get rid of him. By all means, it’s the only thing he can aim to achieve.

“Nothing. It’s a useless train of thought.” Jotaro snorts in a gruff voice and she tucks her wet hair behind her ear and frowns in disagreement.

“And I think it’s useful.” The moment she argues is the moment a stiff realisation crosses her features. It’s a fleeting instant and then the words drop from her mouth. “Opposites attract.” Jotaro knows that’s the law of magnets. So what of it in this case? She grows frantic the more she explains: “If this is about opposite-sex isolation, it could’ve been any fangirl of yours. You even had one close by. The difference is… you don’t like them.” She’s written down their sex and squints at the board before looking at him. “Have you heard about the experiments where they put a man and a woman in a dangerous simulation and observe the spike of their behavioural changes?”

“No, and I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything.” He truly doesn’t. She can’t just weave a Stand ability out of thin air and unsupported speculations. Abilities in Stands are fit for battle, too – not social experiments. They usually differ according to their owner’s character, temperament and ideology but the main rule stands – they’re meant for combat.

“Could be nothing or everything. This Stand’s ability reminds me a lot of that. A man and a woman are in an isolated space with their adrenaline constantly being stimulated. In situations like these, the couple tends to bond way quicker.” She’s blabbering and he crosses his arms, watching her sceptically.

“You’re not saying this Stand is based on a social experiment meant to simulate love.” It’s audible how much he truly doesn’t believe in her theory.

“Stimulate, not just simulate,” she corrects with a huff. “Pairs who underwent the experiment had a spike in compatibility and are often recorded as dating in the aftermath even when they went into it as strangers.” He can feel she’s lost the point of this. They’re talking about experiments that have nothing to do with their predicament and the Stand is probably looking for them. The building has five floors. How long would it take for it to catch up to their location? Jotaro suspects another five minutes at best. Two if she keeps being this loud.

“So the point is to fall in love and we’ll get out of here.” He glares when she smiles in approval. “Can you hear how ridiculous that sounds? And even if it’s true, how would the Stand user know how we interact? And wouldn’t he rather put me in with somebody I hated and had no chance at all of becoming fond of?” He might’ve accidentally indicated he prefers her to any other girl he could’ve ended up with but she goes along with it, like she hasn’t considered anything else.

“Think about it, though. That might’ve been his exact thought. He won’t put you with any of your fangirls because they like you already and they show it a lot. Maybe he doesn’t know you so he’s just watched you and based on observation – I’m the only girl who appears to be disinterested.” She indirectly hints at something, too. He’s not dumb enough to miss it.

“Appears?” He echoes and the pointed intonation makes her lips purse as she considers what to say. She puts the market back on the professor’s desk and looks into his eyes. The green mingles with a bright baby blue and creates the perfect turquoise shade. She gulps.

“Sure. If he’s had a limited observational period – two weeks or something to pick me out, he would’ve seen that we barely talk and I don’t swoon when I see you.” And Jotaro instantly defends that it’s exam season and they’re busy, which just makes her nod along. “Exactly. He might not know that. It might just be a miscalculation on his end. This is good.” She seems almost excited to announce it. He huffs and pushes himself off the desk. He thinks he can hear something.

“You’re trying to convince me the point of this loop is to fall in love. It’s ridiculous,” he states once he’s positioned right across the door. He’s standing between it and her while she asks what else he can think of. The answer’s immediate: “That we’ve given the Stand enough time to sniff us out.” And when he puts a protective hand to tell her to stand back, her eyes widen. Maybe she can hear the steps, too.

“I love you.” But his eyes are pinned to the door and she’s tugging on his jacket. “Say it back.” Her fingers tremble and her voice wavers. He won’t be saying it because even if that’s the point, nothing will happen if it’s just words prompted by survival instincts. Then both of them can hear the windows behind her vibrate.

He turns around and cradles her head to his chest just as the glass explodes. She screams. Such a fucking cowardly Stand – can’t even use its own strength to overpower him. Glass shards are piercing his face. Blood drips on her hair. He has to lure him out and fight him. Star Platinum is on edge, waiting for guidance.

“Just say it!”

But he doesn’t have the time to part his lips when the door slams open. His vision is impaired – one of his eyes is positively blind and the other is full of blood. He feels her wrestle out of his hold and she can’t see Star Platinum but she stands in the way. It’s then he realises it might not be wise to let his Stand be harmed. But he doesn’t want her to be harmed either. He blindly reaches for her in an attempt to tug her back. Her arm’s in his hold and it’s too late. Through a red veil, he can see the blurry shape of a tall pink figure with flaming hair. And when her body falls back in his arms, the hole in her chest is visible. His heart flinches inside his chest. Star Platinum’s unharmed.

And then they're back at the fountain. In an instant, he turns around and his feet splash inside the water, glued to the stone under as his arms extend to he can hold her shoulders. Same exact time, she’s crawling closer to the edge with her fingers hastily reaching for his face. Horror is coursing through their veins and they think one and the same thing when their eyes meet: You’re fine. The relief is grand and visible, almost tangible in the air. No words are spoken as he draws her closer and she complies until she’s on her knees and her arms just barely envelop his back, fingers desperately clutching his jacket. His digits tangle in her hair. His free hand is splayed over her back, between the shoulder blades where the hole was.

“You were scared,” she mocks in a weak voice, face buried in his chest as he exhales, nose burrowed in her wet hair.

“Shut up.” The command makes her chuckle. He was scared shitless. He’s angry, too. Then she parts from him and her hands are damp as they cup his jaw. She slowly rises to her feet and he looks up. Her thumbs rub against his skin and when their eyes meet, there’s the rage of a thousand suns in her hues. He likes the sight of it. He hasn’t seen this side of her before.

“Let’s smash this guy’s face in.” She sounds deadly serious and he agrees. His fingers slowly wrap around her wrists and he stands up, head slowly turning towards the roof. Now they know where the Stand is. He’ll take her along and Star Platinum will be her bodyguard in case the fucking coward tries to pull another trick. If this is a mental space, Jotaro might be allowed the pleasure of beating up the Stand on his own.

When they step out of the fountain and kick their backpacks in the opposite direction, the fence acts up. It bends and its foundations tear the ground apart in their attempt to shoot in their direction. The attack is spoiled when Star Platinum prevents contact. And (Y/N) gapes at the fence suspended in the air, then he nudges Jotaro’s side and hums.

“I’m assuming I can’t see your Stand but is he, like, strong enough to rip out one of the sharp edges from the fence for me?” And before Jotaro can tell her that’s unneeded, Star Platinum does exactly as he’s told. She blinks at the fence that seems to be breaking on its own. Jotaro glares at his Stand. “I just think I need a way to defend myself. I took one year of fencing in high school.” And the rest of the fence drops to the ground but one metal rod with a sharp tip hangs in the air in front of her. She takes it from Star Platinum with her smile blindly aimed up. “Thank you very much, Star. He can hear me, right?” She glances at Jotaro, who only scowls.

“Right. And he’s being way too complaisant.” She chuckles at the sour note in his voice.

“You are, technically. A manifestation of your soul and will, if I remember correctly.” Her smile is bright and teasing, and he snorts.

When they head towards the door, a few stones try to create trouble. They evade the railing with no casualties and Star Platinum wrecks the door before it can collapse. Once they’re inside, the danger is gone. Jotaro’s walking ahead and she’s in the middle with Star Platinum behind her.

When they get to the stairs leading to the rooftop, the group stops and exchanges looks. They’re quietly ascending the stairs, Jotaro’s the one who breaks the lock on the door to the roof and (Y/N) clutches her weapon a bit tighter. He’ll make sure she doesn’t need to use it. When he slams the door open, the Stand is caught off guard. Instead of fighting, it adheres to its cowardly ways. Only Jotaro can see it.

He gives chase and she’s behind him, following even when she can’t see their target. The Stand is cornered easily and, what’s more, when it tries to use its ability to make a random inanimate object attack them, both attempts are foiled. It’s probably weird for (Y/N) to sit still, unaware that Star Platinum is beating up the other Stand while Jotaro observes.

One of the punches seems to hit the switch.

God, this hurts. My momma didn’t teach me enough to deal with pain. And what’s this unfairness? The bad guy isn’t supposed to win. I’m not supposed to fail. I can’t fail. This favour’s supposed to be quick, easy and fun. I love it when things are quick, easy and fun. My jaw might be broken. And my ribs. I can barely move. Fuck, I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. This wasn’t planned. This can’t be happening. The bad guy can’t win.

And what if I was told not to underestimate him? I didn’t. It was all perfect. So why was he working with my pretty collateral damage? He’s not supposed to work in a team. They’re not supposed to get out before they off themselves. Fuck. I have to run. I have to run far and Pichit has to wash my suit and pay for the goddamn hospital bill. I ain’t taking any jobs after this. I don’t care about the followers or the favours. Fuck my friends, they didn’t even warn me this could happen.

Ah, I just want to go back to my flat with Loverboy and order take-out. I want shiitake mushrooms and shrimp. My momma used to make them tasty. Fuck.

Everything is loud and bright. Birds are chirping and a fly is buzzing by the top of the fountain. The noises are everywhere – so many people talking at once it’s almost deafening at first. Jotaro is blinking at the water splashing around inside the fountain. There seems to be a small rainbow where the sun hits the miniature drizzle just right. (Y/N) is inside, wet from head to toe and staring up at him with parted lips and wondrous eyes.

Both of them are overwhelmed by the noise and the colours and the people. Some are having lunch, others are talking in small groups, walking around, crossing the yard, standing still, laughing, joking, and complaining. Voices and people everywhere. Even the girl who pushed (Y/N) into the fountain is still at Jotaro’s side, looking down at them with a scowl.

Everything went back to the instant they were transported by the Stand’s ability.

Jotaro gets the very intense urge to get in the fountain and hug her. She, in turn, is struggling with her own wish to jump and tackle him to the ground in front of everybody. Instead, she grins up at him and he offers her a hand. This time, she takes it. His fangirl doesn’t enjoy the sight. He couldn’t care less but she obviously has a vengeful side to her because once she’s standing to her feet, at least three people are looking at her wet form and Jotaro helps her jump out of the fountain, she slowly lets go of his hand and aims a big smile at the fangirl.

“Thank you for this, Hori. I’m indebted to you and I like how my hair looks when it’s wet. I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow, okay?” The girl blinks at her, utterly stupefied and just a bit disturbed. (Y/N) turns to Jotaro and smiles at him, too. “Now, should we go?” He sighs and they hold onto their backpacks while rounding the fountain. Jotaro knows they’re heading to the rooftop.

“You didn’t make a scene,” he remarks on their way into the building. She’s just a bit wary of the door. Her shoes squeak down the hallway and people are staring at her weirdly. She’s not used to it because she forgets her appearance is supposed to inspire confusion.

“You’re taking me out on a date later, Kujo. She deserves gratitude.” The quip makes the dark-haired male glance down at her doubtfully. He has to admit maybe he doesn’t mind the idea of taking her out on a date. Most of all when it would’ve taken him way longer to get out if he’d been on his own. Still, he’s just a bit surprised at how well she’s taking this – mostly the aftermath that might’ve left her scarred. He hands her his jacket and she drapes it over her shoulders. “Thanks. How about you don’t kill the guy? I want to ask him about my theory.”

“You look quite unaffected by the experience, (L/N).” The remark makes her lips purse. Even if the death wasn’t real, the sensations were quite on point. He glimpses momentary discomfort on her face before she lets out an airy chuckle.

“I think we’re close enough to use first names at this point. And also, I might be a bit more adaptable than I thought.” In spite of that, Jotaro stays mad at the stupid fuck who intervened in their normal lives. She would’ve been better off not living this. They’re climbing the stairs and the lock on the rooftop door is already broken when they arrive. Jotaro opens the door and expects a fearsome enemy’s attack. He’s not prepared for the disfigured bleeding mess on the floor. Next to him, (Y/N)’s eyes widen in fright and her nose scrunches up. Three wrinkles for disgust.

“G-Get away from me!” The guy draws back in horror, splayed on the ground and trying to crawl back. He has two pink tresses in his blond hair. “F-fucking psychos! How did you---“

“Let me stop you right there,” (Y/N) says, stepping forward and glaring down at his bloody face. As far as Jotaro can see, he’s got a broken nose, a split brow and two busted teeth. His ribs are probably cracked. “We’ll walk you out of the university premises and you won’t come back ever. But before that, I want to ask you about your Stand’s ability. It’s a mental space, right?” The guy blinks at her.

“A loop, yea. B-But you’re fucking crazy and I don’t have to answer any questions.” His voice comes out wheezy and squeaky. He’s shaking in fear. Jotaro quirks a brow at his defiant behaviour and (Y/N) glances at the dark look on his face.

“I think you’ll prefer it to the other option.” She’s not smiling but her voice is upbeat and placid. “Now, since it’s a loop in a mental space, was there a way for us to get out without beating your Stand?” She isn’t nearly as disturbed by the sight of the beaten-up man. Jotaro thinks this much is enough although he wouldn’t be against some more. An additional punch or two just to be safe. The guy spits out a spiteful spoonful of blood and snorts.

“Yeah, the disrespecter here had to give up on shit a-and off himself because you’re not compatible at all and---“

“So we had to fall in love or kill ourselves?” She cuts off with wide eyes, making Jotaro’s lips purse. The guy at their feet growls in outrage and points up at the dark-haired Stand user.

“T-That’s the whole point! He can’t love shit and you’re the perfect collateral damage because you barely talk to him!” His words would have made sense if it weren’t for her theory. She’s grinning and her hands are on her hips when she tips her chin proudly and looks up at Jotaro, who only averts his gaze in spiteful defeat. He shouldn’t have let her come along. She could’ve gone through life without the knowledge she was right.

“I told you! I was right the whole time!” Her finger jabs into his biceps and she tugs on the jacket around her shoulders while clearing her throat and looking down at the guy again. He’s staring at her like she’s crazy. He probably thinks they’ll kill him or something. “I figured it out. Without the part about killing ourselves. It’s a smart move but… we actually like each other, I think.” She gestures at them and the guy’s face contorts in utter disbelief. Jotaro clicks his tongue at the pathetic sight.

“So thanks for the date.” His deep voice makes (Y/N) grin.

“Y-You weren’t supposed to… Y-You can’t possibly, I watched you! You hate everybody! A-And---“

“Let’s get you out of here, huh? You’re pretty shaken up.” She crouches in front of the guy and he doesn’t dare strike her for fear Jotaro will act faster. They force him to his feet and he’s shaking like a leaf. Jotaro’s the one who has to support him on their way down the stairs. “Do you have a car or should we call an ambulance?” But he’s nearly catatonic because of the shock and doesn’t answer. “I didn’t think you’d beat the sense out of him, Jotaro.” She shoots Jotaro a look of reproach and he huffs. 

“Let’s just walk him out and leave him outside.” Less than three minutes, they’re sneaking out of the side door leading to the parking lot. She’s wet from head to toe and they’re helping a bleeding man limp between the cars. When they reach the side entrance, Jotaro lets the Stand user slump down to the ground against the fence and glares at him. (Y/N)’s the one who crouches down, grips his nose and harshly pushes to the left. The guy screams and bites down on his tongue.

“I hope it hurt like a bitch. That’s for the long-term paranoia I’ll have around doors. And for making me see the guy I like being in pain.” Jotaro’s eyes widen at the action and her words, and then she stands to her feet, leaving the Stand user to whimper in pain while she heads back to the building. “Do you have anything to say to me about my theory?” She teases when Jotaro opens the door for her.

“It’s a bullcrap ability that wasn’t supposed to exist at all,” he states with a huff. She smiles and says it’s enough that he’s a bit spiteful in his rejection, then complains that she needs dry clothes to attend her next class. He hums and he knows it’s out of character when he suggests: “We can skip.”

“I didn’t think you were a bad boy, Jotaro.” She smirks and he clicks his tongue. “We do deserve rest after this. Might’ve been less than a second in reality but all the stress drained me. Are you hungry?” But both of them know neither had time to enjoy lunch and the experience messed with their heads in terms of orientation through time. He nods and she’s very transparent in her offer. “Come over so I can change and maybe I can cook for us.”

“Traditional?” He questions with a quirked brow and suggests omelettes and miso soup. He’s on board. And when they’re heading for the main entrance, she asks if he thinks the guy will try to attack him again. He sees the uncertainty on her face and shakes his head. “His Stand is the most cowardly thing I’ve seen. He wasn’t much better. He won’t risk it.”

“It’s weird how he accidentally picked the right people,” she muses with a hum. “He was so shocked we worked together, too. Do others think we don’t get along, too?” He thinks whoever even cares enough to be acquainted with them is pretty much aware they’re on good terms. And some – the ones she calls his fangirls – might even be suspicious regarding more. She wouldn’t be getting pushed into fountains otherwise even though Jotaro is greatly annoyed by the fact girls have turned pursuing him into a competition with him as the prize.

“Do you care about that?” He glances down at her and sees her tug his jacket and burrow her nose in the collar with a thoughtful hum. She’s cute sometimes.

“Depends. Maybe not.” So he thinks the conversation is done for the time being. Less than a minute late, she asks: “Hey, Jotaro, that one time we got to the classroom – would it have worked if you’d said it?” He knows exactly what she means and his blood runs cold in nervousness at the mention. Seeing as he refuses to answer, she nudges his arm with her elbow. He won’t say it. “Oh, come on, we survived a shitload together, you can tell me that at least.” Her eyes are twinkling up at him pleadingly.

“We’ll never know,” he concludes in a gruff voice. He’s scowling when she says she can just get the guy to activate his Stand’s ability again and have them test her theory. But there will be no need for that. “I’ll just beat him up again.” He’s glaring, tipping his hat lower, and she laughs. It’s a nice sound.

“You’re red, Jotaro.” She’s annoying. Annoyingly smart, too. His face is red, she’s smiling knowingly and she’s pretty even when she’s annoying. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. It would’ve worked.

[abrushwithdeath]

[stay] ( from our Brotherhood verse with Rogue and Johnny :D )

@bcrninghearts

[stay] – sender offers receiver a place to stay, so that – wherever they got these bruises – they don’t have to go back.

She was pissed off. Pissed off because she'd let herself change under Johnny's guidance. Pissed off because she didn't want to stay here with him. Pissed off because she didn't want to go back, either. But she had left him for a time. Managed to slip out while he was gone and, honestly, she hadn't intended to come back. Let him hunt her down, what did it matter?

So why the hell had she come back to him after only a few days?

The scars were old news- he'd seen them a hundred times before. The bruises, however, were freshly earned. She didn't bruise easily, either- though some of the powers she'd leeched, the ones she'd killed for, even, were beginning to fade, she was still tough as all hell. Difficult to injure, but not impossible. And this last fight she'd gotten herself into had only proven that she was slipping up. Even if she wanted to go back to her old life, she knew now, without a doubt, that she couldn't. Oh, her mother was livid. Erik just the same. She was a weapon now worn down and blunted; an unsharpened blade.

"Don't say a goddamn word," She'd told him when she'd come back, found him at a different motel than the one she'd left him at. He'd probably mock her, piss her off all over again. But she felt worse now than she had felt when she'd absorbed the spirit of vengeance from him and damn near killed herself in the process.

Instead, she'd pushed past him before he could get a word out, walked into the bathroom, took a scalding hot shower. She should have expected him to follow- doubtless, he was mad at her for having left when he'd finally given her some leniency. He was also probably curious about why she had returned. (Hell, she was wondering the same thing, herself.) Still, she was shocked when she pulled the shower curtain back and he was there by the bathroom sink.

She stared at him for a moment before grabbing the towel and wrapping it around herself. "What? Did ya think I was actually gone?" She asked, her tone mocking, defensive. "If I stayed away, ya were jus' gonna hunt me down. That's what ya said before, right?" She scoffed, arms crossed over her chest. "Well, go on then. Bitch me out. Ain't nothin' I haven't heard before," From him. From others. She was used to it.

But what he said, instead, caught her off guard. A comment about the bruises. An offer of a place to stay. He wasn't telling her that she had to, but that she could. She stared at him, frozen for a second, before her eyes narrowed in agitation. Was he actually offering her a kindness? She doubted it. He was just fucking with her. "Come on, Johnny. You 'n' I both know ya don't want me stickin' around. You've said it yerself how sick'a me ya are," She'd been better behaved recently, but that didn't mean she thought he'd changed his mind. "Don't gotta play nice jus' 'cause I went out an' got myself a lil busted up," She grabbed her bag off the floor, placed it on the bed, and began to search through it for some pajamas to toss on- it was late and, even if he made her sleep on the fucking floor, she wasn't going anywhere for the night.

[good-enemy]

Everyone keeps saying thomas is a swiftie and it made me realise there are the same amount of ghosts as there are taylor swift albums so!

The Ghosts as Taylor Swift albums

Taylor Swift (debut album) -> Fanny

Fearless -> Pat

Speak Now -> Humphrey

Red -> Thomas

1989 -> Kitty

Reputation -> Julian

Lover -> Robin

Folklore -> Mary

Evermore -> The Captain

Feel free to debate this in the notes!

[nightqueen1221]

If you decide to do a part 2 to the oikawa cheating story. I have a few ideas.

Team find out and are completely livid. So much so that their anger scares his side bitch away cause “it’s too much to handle.” And “he’s too much to handle” and oikawa realises how amazing reader was to him. But it’s too late. Specially when he goes to see reader hoping to get back together only to see reader with someone else. (Ie iwa? matsukawa? ushijima? Kageyama?)

From 🐹 ( @multi-fandom-fanfic )

This is really late oof. I kept who the reader gets with at the end to be anonymous so you get to chose.

  It had been a while, since your break-up. You never really wanted to talk about it. This, however was impossable to avoid. You were close friends with his teammates so when you stopped coming to practice and he started coming back. They knew something was wrong.

    "Y/N, what's wrong?" Iwaizumi asked. Him, along with the rest of the team were pretty nice to you.  Despite not wanting to talk about the situation, you spilled. And needless to say, they were mad. Of course they thought Oikawa was a jerk. This was something they had not expected from him however.

    Cheating on his girlfriend? How could he?! People thought you two were stuck together forever. It wasn't your fault, you did what you should have done. It was his fault that your relationship was gone. His team told you to not worry about anything and they would talk to him.

    "Oikawa." A member called. Oikawa, in his normally happy mood, walked over. This happy smile of his faded once he saw their angry faces. He asked what they were mad about concern clearly on his face. That's when the arugement began.

   "How could you?!"

   "You know she cared about you more than anyone!"

   "So many people wanted what you two had and you just threw that away!" These words were thrown about by diffrent players. This was one of the last things he thought his team would be mad about. Of course, cheating on someone isn't really something to be happy about. He just didn't think the team would be made about it because it wasn't their relationship.

    The worst part is they even threatened to kick him off the team. He was shocked they would go that far for you. He just didn't go to practice that day, he kicked him self out of the gym. They didn't allow him back in the gym in till he apologized to you. The girl he was dating even started to drift away.

    "Look, if your 'friends' treat YOU, like this, I don't want to know how they would treat me. So, basicly, we're done." He was astonished. It seemed everything started to leave him right before his eyes. His girlfriend, his other girlfriend, and his team.

    To tell you the truth, he did regret doing the things he did. He lost so many important things in his life. He was starting to realize that it was because of his actions. That you had been so nice to him. That the world he knew was crushed by his own mistakes.

    He chose to go up to you and tell you he was in the wrong. That he was over that girl, and that he wanted to be back you. He Last heard you would be on the school court yard, so he started heading there.

    He saw you, you were by yourself but in a cheerful mood. He thought this was his time to strike. He started to walk over and apologize till another man walked up to you. His face was hard to make out, but anyone could still tell he was a volleyball player with the shirt he was wearing.

    Oikawa started to wonder why you were talking to this man. A friend? A family member? He kept watching to see him grab your cheek gently and kiss you. You two started to walk off with a smile and happily chatting with one another.

    Even that ruined. He couldn't even apologize to someone. He wasn't even with you anymore, but it felt like you were cheating. Is this how you felt? How he hurt you? He didn't even want to say sorry at this point. He just wanted to sit down and cry. He truly lost everything.

Read part one here:

[babyboibucky]

White Noise

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky has a new neighbor and she's even grumpier than him.

Word Count: 2,490

Warnings: TW!!! Domestic violence (not from Bucky, he’s a sweetheart in this 🥺)

A/N: I’d say I’m on a roll for writing new shit lately but I’ve got two ongoing series and a part 2 of a oneshot that I haven’t even updated for quite a while lmfao

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky blinked his eyes open and stared at the ceiling before forcing them close again. He focused on the hard floor beneath him and the soft blanket tangled in between his limbs. His television was left open but with the volume at the lowest level. Bucky always slept this way, so that the white noise would help him ground himself whenever he would wake up from his nightmares.

A few minutes later, Bucky finally felt himself begin to doze off. A couple hours of uninterrupted sleep were good enough for him, at least he'd get some peace before his past would come back to haunt him.

Just as when Bucky was about to fall into a deep slumber, loud music began to boom through his walls, stirring him awake. He grunted as he sat up on the floor, turning around and staring at the wall separating his apartment from his neighbor. He didn't even know he had one until now. The music was loud, too loud that it wasn't even white noise anymore. It was just...noise. And as much as Bucky hated how silence triggered his self-destructive thoughts, this kind of noise wasn't something that he needed.

Bucky let a few more minutes pass just to see whether his neighbor would turn it down but then a new song started playing right after the first.

Grabbing his shirt, jacket and some sweatpants, Bucky quickly dressed up and headed out the door. He stood in front of his neighbor's door and could actually understand the lyrics of the song playing. It wasn't his enhanced hearing, the music was just that loud. His neighbor didn't even hear him knocking until he decided to use his vibranium arm to do so. Bucky had to hold back a bit in order not to break down the door at how hard he knocked on the door.

Mid-way through his knocking, the door finally opened and out his neighbor stepped-- you. Bucky frowned when you didn't even bother turning off your music when you opened the door.

"How can I help you?" you asked, your expression matching Bucky's.

Bucky scoffed, "I don't know, maybe turn down your music? It's like fuckin' two in the morning. You're not the only tenant in this building." he snapped.

"I can't sleep without music. And no one else has been complaining, just you." you said and was about to close the door right into Bucky's face.

Bucky was appalled at your rudeness and slotted his foot into your doorway before you could even slam the door shut.

"I just complained and you're not really going to do anything?" he asked.

"No. If other tenants can sleep through my music then so can you. Stop bitching around and leave me be." you huffed out and kicked his foot before closing the door with a loud thud.

Bucky blinked, unable to believe that you just did that. You actually kicked his foot and ignored his complaint. He knew that he was a bit harsh when asking you to turn down your music, but it was two in the morning! Why would you even blast music at such an ungodly hour? Bucky rubbed his face with his hand and headed back to his apartment.

He'll deal with you tomorrow. It wasn't like he was going to sleep through the entire night anyway.

-

And deal with you, Bucky did but it always ended the same. Bucky was surprised at how aggressive you were whenever he paid you a visit to complain. The first night he kind of understood your behavior, he wasn't the nicest then. But every single encounter he had with you after that, you were just borderline mean.

Bucky just arrived from having lunch out when he saw you unloading your car with a few more boxes. Over the past few days, he had learned that you were indeed new and just moved in a week ago. He also learned that the rest of tenants on his floor either slept like a fucking rock or had impaired hearing for them not to care about your music.

You struggled to carry all three boxes when you stacked them above each other. Bucky chuckled in amusement as he watched you attempt to carry them all twice. Obviously, you didn't want to do multiple trips but with the strength (or lack thereof) you were displaying, it would be an impossible task. Being the gentleman he was, Bucky decided to set aside his feud with you to offer his help.

"Let me help." he said as he approached you.

Your eyes softened up at him for a brief moment and Bucky thought that maybe you'd be kinder to him this time. Boy was he wrong because you immediately shot his offer down and ignored his presence.

"Look, I'm trying to be nice here. Just let me help so you wouldn't have to do multiple trips." he explained.

"I don't need anyone's help. How hard is that to understand?" you snapped and carried one box, brushing past Bucky to enter the building.

Bucky rolled his eyes and quickly grabbed your arm to stop you. He's had enough of your attitude and if you weren't going to even try to be nice to him, then he'd stop being the gentleman that he was.

"Why do you have to be such a little bitch?" For the first time, Bucky raised his voice at you.

He just wanted to confront you, not scare you so when you gasped out loud and dropped the box in your arms, Bucky's heart fell. Your eyes widened at him in fear, your hand quickly wrapping around the arm that Bucky grabbed. He realized that he had used his vibranium arm to grab you and was quick to regret it.

"Please don't touch me like that again." your voice was soft, almost a whisper and Bucky didn't expect for you to react like that.

He was expecting for you to yell at him, maybe even land a slap on his face. But instead, you shrinked and for the first time in a long time, Bucky saw someone look at him with fear like that. It was as if he was back to square one, back to the old version of him that he's been fighting so hard to forget.

-

It's been two days since the incident and Bucky still hadn't seen you around. He’s been wanting to apologize to you and patch things up. Your music still blasted through his walls so at least he knew that he didn't scare you enough to move away. Bucky's nightmares got worse and somehow, the incident with you was what violently shook him awake.

Bucky stared at his ceiling once again, his television turned off because he knew that you'd be playing your music out loud in a few. He was actually starting to get used to it and as much as he hated it, he often found himself singing along to the songs you had been playing.

Two am and there was still silence. Bucky laid on the floor as he waited for your music. Three minutes have passed and yet it remained quiet. Maybe you weren't home? Although he did see you from his balcony as you headed back inside the building after bringing your trash out earlier. Perhaps something else was keeping you busy? Why was Bucky even thinking about what you were doing? If any, he should be jumping at the opportunity to get some shuteye.

Bucky sighed and turned on the television like how he used to, turning the volume down and then closing his eyes in an attempt to fall asleep.

For a while, Bucky felt at peace for falling back to his routine before you moved in. Hushed whispers and soft cries caused Bucky to quickly sit up. He wasn't sure whether it was from the television or if his enhanced hearing was picking up something else. Bucky quickly turned off the television and sat in silence, closing his eyes to focus.

There was a loud thud coming from your apartment followed by a muffled sob. Bucky knew that something was wrong so he quickly dressed up and went to your apartment, knocking on the door continuously.

"Hey, it's me. Open up." Bucky called out and continued to knock when you didn't respond.

"Is everything okay in there?" he asked again, the silence from the other side of the door bothering him even more.

Bucky heard a few shuffles before he heard the door click. It slowly opened until you showed up, gaze downcast and hands trembling as you prevented the door from opening any further. Bucky couldn't even see through you at how you were blocking his view of your apartment.

"I'm fine. Just go." you softly said and attempted to close the door again.

Bucky frowned and held the edge of the door with his vibranium arm, stopping you from closing it and instead, pushing it open. You just allowed him to do that, something that confirmed Bucky's gut feeling that you were hiding something, or rather, someone.

"Man, just get the fuck out of here!" a guy exclaimed as he stood in the middle of your apartment.

Bucky was quick to notice the mess inside your apartment— clothes and chairs were strewn across the floor. His gaze went back to you and it was then that he saw the bruises on your arms and legs.

"Did he hurt you?" he asked worriedly.

You kept mum but saw the slow movement of your head, affirming his suspicions. The guy walked over to you and gripped your arm, violently pulling you behind him as he stood face to face with Bucky.

"It's none of your goddamn business." he threatened.

Bucky refused to look at the man and focused on you. He finally understood everything. Why you had been so aggressive towards him, why you reacted like that when he gripped your arm. You were afraid, not of him but because of what you were going through. This man had been abusing you and Bucky doesn't need to know for how long for him to understand your behavior.

"You just gonna fuckin' stand there or what?!" the guy asked, irritated at Bucky's presence.

"I think you should be the one to leave." Bucky said calmly, finally lifting his gaze to look at the man.

The man snickered, "Who the fuck are you to tell me that? You got the hots for my fuckin' girlfriend?" he asked.

"Leave her alone and never come back. I'll only ask you this once." Bucky warned, his jaw tightening as he stared at the man.

"Or else? You threatening me, man? You're gonna fucking regret it." the man chuckled before lifting his fist up to punch Bucky in the face.

Bucky rolled his eyes when he easily caught the man's fist in his vibranium arm, twisting it until the man looked at him in horror, screaming in pain. He let go of the man's fist and grabbed at the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer as he glared daggers at him.

"You are gonna fucking regret it if you come back here. If you ever lay a finger on her, so much as look at her...I'll find you. That's a promise." Bucky warned.

The guy was nearly in tears as he nodded in understanding, not trusting his voice. Bucky chuckled and dragged him out of your apartment, throwing him to the ground before pointing a gloved finger.

"You understand?" he asked again, snickering when the guy almost immediately scrambled away without even responding.

Bucky waited until the man was out of sight before quickly turning to you. You merely stood inside your apartment, body trembling as you hugged yourself.

"You okay?" Bucky asked gently, brows furrowing in worry as he slowly walked towards you.

He bent down to catch your gaze, "Can I...?" he asked, asking for your permission as he attempted to hold your shoulders.

You meekly nodded and heaved out a shaky sigh, composing yourself. Bucky held you carefully, rubbing your arms to soothe you after everything that has happened. You let him touch you like that because it was the first time in a long time that you received such gentleness. It almost moved you into tears, how Bucky held you with so much care.

"Come on, let's get you patched up." Bucky said and led you out of your apartment, not wanting you to stay there after being beaten up by your asshole of a boyfriend.

Bucky kept a hand on the small of your back, guiding you into his almost empty apartment. He almost felt embarrassed for having nothing but a couch, a chair and a television. You didn't seemed to mind though and immediately sat down upon reaching the couch.

Bucky fetched you a glass of water and sat down next to you, watching you drink it all in one go. Your hands weren't shaking that much anymore and the tension in your shoulders seemed to have subsided. You turned to Bucky and smiled at him for the first time.

"Thank you." you said. "And I owe you an apology. I know I was—“

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize. I understand." Bucky explained with a smile before it faltered, "I'm sorry for what you witnessed back there, I didn't mean to be violent like that but—“

It was your turn to cut him off, "Please don't be sorry. He deserved that." you bitterly chuckled.

Bucky found out that the guy was an ex-boyfriend and that he had been abusing you all throughout your relationship. You broke up with him a month ago that's why you moved into Bucky's apartment building. Apparently, you filed for a restraining order against him but the guy was obviously crazy to go against it, stalking you back to your apartment, hence the commotion.

"And the reason why I've been blasting music is because it keeps me from remembering the abuse he caused me. I can't think about anything else but that at night, when everything is quiet." you explained.

Bucky's heart ached because he understood, he truly understood your sentiments. His therapist taught him that peace isn't always a good thing. Sometimes, it is peace that causes chaos in the mind. Silence could be a dangerous thing, that's what you and Bucky have been experiencing.

"Would it help you if you talked to someone instead?" Bucky asked. "Because I'd love to have someone to talk to on nights I can't sleep." he said.

You offered a smile, "I'd keep you up every night then."

Bucky returned your smile, "Then it's a perfect set-up." he said, telling you that he too had trouble sleeping almost every night.

Bucky realized that he might have had a rough start with you, but he was glad for that. If it wasn't for your loud music blasting through his walls that one night, he wouldn't have found the perfect white noise to help him find solace at night— you.

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar  @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @tcc-gizmachine @prettyintopeerpressure​ @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit​ @bloodhon3yx​ @dressed-in-prada​ @lizette50​ @​thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb

Sign up on my tag list here - https://forms.gle/b5haFXewSKqnXxxh7

[reidsnose]

Black Eye

overview: reader and spencer go to reader's highschool reunion as a fake couple

genre: fluff i think

warnings: mild violence and swearing, a guy being kind of a total creep, and mentions of bullying

a/n: idk if its any good again just love the idea but it was inspired by a dream i had last night (thank you temporal lobe) so yeah let me know what yall think !! :) also im posting this at like ass oclock in the morning so whoops

masterlist

-

-

you and spencer had gotten yourselves in quite the situation.

your dreaded highschool reunion was just around the corner and you made the mistake of complaining about it to penelope. she was always trying to make everyones life easier (and more interesting) so when she heard you had no date she took it upon herself to find you one.

it didn't take a lot of looking, none at all actually; because Penelope had already been trying to figure out ways to get you and Reid together.

you two were undeniably perfect for each other. you were an amazing team at work, you hung out alone all the time (though both of you denied these hang out as being dates, Garcia had her own ideas on this), and you were both very obliviously head over heels for each other.

and somehow, through the magical ways of Penelope Garcia, you and Spencer were now sitting in the parking lot, fake married for your high school reunion.

"do we need to go over our back story again?" you worried, looking up at him.

"our backstory is basically all true anyway we just fall in love after a little bit. and i have an eidetic memory so i remember; you're my wife you should know this!" he joked, trying to relax you. "we got this! we're gonna be so married!"

Spencer had actually never been this nervous in his life but he was trying to be brave for you. it would be more embarrassing for you both to show up like nervous wrecks than if you had just come alone. he was just happy to get to be fake married to you.

"the marriedest!" smiled, fist bumping him.

"now lets go make some people jealous!" he chuckled getting out of the car and jogging over to your side, opening your door before you got the chance to; like a true gentleman.

you stuck out your hand which he happily took into his, neither of you commenting on the redness you both had sprinkled across your cheeks. as you walked in, you saw all the people you dreaded seeing.

the boys who tormented you were balding and the girls who made sure you felt awful everyday had wrinkles riddling there skin. you were surrounded by botched botox and bleached blonde to cover graying hair. you felt terrible to admit it, but you were a little happy to see that their beauty had faded like this; they made their looks their whole personality in high school, you couldn't help but wonder what was left for them to be. not that it mattered, but you and Spencer were undeniably the most attractive couple there.

you actually had an ok time, you had spotted a few of your friends that you hadn't seen in quite a few years and it was nice to catch up.

Spencer had wondered a bit, but not too far, he was talking to some guys who used to be in science club when you were younger. you smiled at the thought of what they might be talking about.

"y/n! hey youve really filled out!" you heard a gruff voice from behind you.

you turned around and were met with the very unappealing face of the ex quarterback. Spencers attention had been caught at the sound of your name.

"um..hello," you muttered, trying to covertly back away from him.

"i see youve got a ring, interesting i dont remember us getting married!" he said in an incredibly creepy tone.

"do you know im a federal agent now?" you said through a gritted smile.

spencer had already begun walking towards you, he could tell something was off.

"ill tell you what sweetheart," he put his hand on your shoulder, pulling you slightly closer to him, "you can put me in handcuffs any day."

you threw his hand off of you and drew back your fist, but were cut off before you could deliver the punch but his hand engulfing your own, and squeezing.

"THATS MY WIFE!" spencer yelled in a voice you had never heard from him before.in the blink of an eye he was standing between in front of him. "do not ever talk to her like that, let alone lay a finger on her or so help me God i will-"

"what beanpole? what are you gonna do? what if i did this?" the man asked.

and then he sent a swift punch to Spencer's face.

thats gonna leave a mark.

in a matter of seconds, Spencer had him overpowered, laying face first on the floor with his hands uncomfortably angled behind him, completely helpless.

"now i'm going to let you go and you're going to walk out of here unharmed. if you try anything like that again, ill let my wife handle you. and i promise if she gets a hold of you, you'll be a dead son of a bitch." Spencer muttered in the mans ear, gruffly pulling him up by his collar and shoving him towards the door.

"were leaving." you said, grabbing Spencer's hand, trying to ignore how incredibly attractive he looked right now.

"babe if you want to stay we can stay," he offered as if he didn't just have his shit kicked in by a coward with misogynistic tendencies.

"honey, i want to take you home," you smiled, liking the way it felt to call him a pet name. you walked into the parking lot, "what were you thinking?"

"i was thinking this guy is trying to hurt you and i was not going to ever let that happen." he answered confidently as you two reached the car. "plus this totally made the marriage thing more believable. i wouldn't get a black eye for just anyone."

"thank you. i'm sorry you got punched trying to protect me." you sighed, feeling incredibly awful about the whole thing.

he chuckled, "id do it again."

you fought hard against the blush creeping up your face.

"i gotta say, the black eye really suits you. you look pretty badass." you chuckled, trying to change the subject before it got too sappy and you said something you shouldn't.

"maybe it should just be my new look," he joked, looking down at a ping from his phone. "uh oh."

"we have a case?" you asked.

"yep. and hotch wants us in the office asap which means we cont stop by either of our houses." he sighed before starting the car.

the drive was mostly silent. but a comfortable silence. Spencer thought about how in the moment, he didn't care how many punches the guy threw at him, as long as it meant you were ok, he was willing to take it. he knew he loved you far before that moment but that truly solidified it.

at the same time you were thinking of how quickly your time as a 'married couple' was over. it felt so right to call Spencer yours. so unexplainably perfect for the two of you to be together. if only your time wasn't cut short by a sucker punch.

you neared the building's parking lot. you looked over at Spencer who you could very easily tell was lost in his own world.

"whats going on in that beautiful head of yours?" you asked, causing him to stifle a smile.

"just thinking." he answered.

"what about?"

"us." he stated, pulling into his parking spot.

oh. oh.

"do tell."

he hesitated, "if i tell you, and you disagree, do you promise it wont change anything about us?"

"i promise."

"did it feel right to you? us being together?" he asked, his eyes innocent and filled to the brim with a mixture of anxiety and adoration as he looked at you.

"yes. it absolutely did. and i was so mad at the assclown for cutting our time short," you admitted, "and punching you in the eye, obviously."

"i- i'm not sure how to ask this but- do you...would you..sorry i-" he stammered.

"yes."

you cut him off, pressing your lips to his. his hand gently cupped your face, deepening the kiss and you both felt like you were on cloud nine.

"thats exactly what i was trying to say," he cracked a dopey smile, causing you to chuckle.

"i've been trying to say it for so long." you confessed, causing him to smile impossibly wider, "we gotta go hotch is waiting."

"just one more kiss?" he asked, which you gave in to, obviously. and then another. and another.

maybe it was good thing that he got a black eye that day, because when you got to the office the whole team was so focused on it they didn't even notice the hint of your lipstick left on spencers lips.

-

-

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos

[thefanficmonster]

Perspective

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Corpse recounts the time he first met his now best friend who too has been gifted with a deep voice.

Requested by two Anons. This fic is a mash up of two very similar requests I got from an unnamed Anon and 🖤🥀 Anon, so a big thank you to the both of you for sending in your requests! I’m really sorry to be posting your requested fic so late but I hope the final product is gonna make the wait you had to endure worth it! If you come across it and read it, I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

“Yeah, yeah ok, I know.“ I can’t help but playfully roll my eyes at the comments that are flooding in, “Before any more people address it - even though it’s only been five minutes - I’m gonna address it myself: I apologize for the absence of the guest I promised would accompany me on this stream. She made the choice to party until late - or should I say early - and is currently probably asleep. And...I just don’t have the heart to wake her.“

In all honesty, all the blame should fall on Y/N’s lack of responsibility but I could never say such a thing - she rarely let’s herself loose and allows herself to have fun so there’s no way I’m gonna hold this one instance against her. Quite the contrary actually: I hope she starts going out and having fun more frequently cause really deserves it. She’s a super hardworking girl, studying college and working her ass off simultaneously.

“For those of you who don’t know who I’m referring to: the girl in question is Y/N, aka Jumpscaretastic, a horror games oriented streamer. She was supposed to join me for this freaky journey but...yeah I’ll have to endure it on my own because fuck me.“ I take a look at my chat again, deciding to keep this interaction with my viewers going for a bit longer before I start the game. I may be stalling but you sure as hell won’t hear me admit it. The game may be terrifying as hell - I have no doubt it is - but I doubt it would affect me so much if Y/N was here.  My eyebrows furrow automatically at the sight of one specific question that I’ve been getting asked quite a lot recently and I’ve been doing my best to avoid it cause the idea - to me, at least - is so messed up. Why, we’ll get into that later. “No- ok, this is the first and last time I’ll be addressing this wild assumption, you guys, so listen carefully. Y/N and I are by no means related. I’m not related to every deep-voiced person on this planet, just FYI.“ Speaking of Y/N’s deep voice which I’ve gotten so accustomed to hearing, I can’t help but recall the first interaction the two of us had when she got invited by Toast for a game of Among Us with us when Felix canceled on us due to technical difficulties. “I may not be related to her but she really put into perspective how other people feel and react when they hear my voice. I, honestly speaking was astonished by hers.“

A few months ago

“Ok guys, since Felix texted me about an hour ago, saying he won’t be able to make it, I invited a friend of mine so I hope that’s ok with you.“ Toast announces when the majority of us have accumulated in the lobby.

“Yeah, all cool. An introduction to them would be nice though.“ Charlie says, tampering with his avatar’s appearance on the in-game laptop.

“Oh, I’m sure she can do that herself.” He says with a bit of a chuckle, “Y/N?“

“I’m here, I’m here.“ 

My gaze moves from my chat to the monitor displaying the game in an instant as though it would reveal to me who the owner of this unfamiliar voice that just travelled through my headphones is. You know how my voice is considerably deep, yeah well this girl’s voice is six feet below that.  My eyes have widened without me even noticing as I hurry to unmute myself despite being a little late to the reaction party which already consists of a ton of ‘OMG’s and “WHOA”s from the rest of the people in the call. Not one of them, however, considers to question the authenticity of the voice.

“Was that a voice changer or something?“ I say, my eyebrows shooting up when I hear the laugh I receive in response to the question - a sound so deep but simultaneously sweet and girly it messes with my head.

“I wish I kept count so I could tell you which number on the list of people who’ve asked me that you fall under.“ The girl, Y/N replies, “But for the record no, it’s not a voice changer.“

Realizing how hypocritical this question probably seems coming from me, I decide to believe her - probably cause she gets nothing if she lies anyways. “Oh, so this is how it feels hearing my voice for the first time, huh?“ I say, slowly nodding my head, still in slight disbelief.

“Yeah, meeting her was quite rattling - in the best way possible though.“ I say, fixating myself back in reality following the little trip back in time to the day Y/N and I met. “She’s now one of my best friends so that should tell you enough.“

It goes without saying that, since she’s my best friend, I know her quite well. That being said, with the detailed knowledge I have on her, I can guess she’s gonna be in for a massive hangover when she wakes up. I just hope she texts me when she does so I can make sure she’s at least semi-functional. Just then, my phone buzzes with a message. Much to my shock, it’s a message from Y/N. Truth be told, I didn’t expect her to be up for another hour or two or three but here she is, sending a simple text that reads:

“My head’s pounding like a drum mid rock n’ roll concert“

There are no emojis accompanying the message, suggesting she’s deadly serious and in quite a bit of pain. Ok, I won’t sugarcoat it - she’s in a fuck-load of pain right now.

“The Sleeping Beauty has awaken and is complaining about a headache, just in case you were wondering.“ I chuckle seemingly nonchalantly as I silently contemplate whether to text her back or call her instead. Who’s gonna know better than my viewers, after all... “You guys think I should call her? Or would that annoy her?“ I ask, furrowing my brows at the chat as I see different responses coming in.

Meh, fuck it -  I think to myself, already taking my phone to call Y/N when the support of my viewers floods in as well.

She picks up after two rings, letting out a sound that sets the tone for the discomfort she’s in.

“Hello to you too.“ I say, putting the call on speaker so my mic can pick up her responses. “Would you please rate the pain you’re in right now on a scale 1-10?“

“A hundred.“ Her strained, raspy and deeper than usual voice comes through, stealing a chuckle from me, “I’m hungover and still a bit drunk. Like, how does that even work?“

“The morning after is a straight-up bitch. Welcome to the world of bad decisions.“ I tell her compassionately, low-key wishing I could go over to her place and provide her with at least a tiny bit of comfort, as much as I can.

“Yeah...“ she sighs halfway dramatically, “Anyhow, we usually text around this time, what’s up with the call?“

“Just wanted to make sure my best-girl wasn’t really dying, you know. Who am I supposed to annoy in Among Us if you’re not there, after all?” I raise my brow and, although she can’t see me, I bet she can probably guess I’m doing that.

“Whatever...“ The same way I can imagine her rolling her eyes while smiling as she said that, “Tell me this, am I wrong or was I supposed to be on your stream today?“

I barely manage to hold in my laughter at the question, “Uh, yeah you were, but...” she doesn’t let me finish my sentence, instead cuts me of:

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, Corpse! I totally forgot. Believe me, if I could roll my ass out of bed I’d hop in but I really can’t. Unless you want me to be a bore for an hour and a half, that is.“

“For starters, you could never be a bore to me.“ I say matter-of-factly, “And for seconds, you’re kinda on the stream anyway...“

“Come again?“ She cuts me off yet again, “You’re calling me mid-stream? If so, hey everyone! Sorry I couldn’t join, I promise to make it up to both you and Corpse soon.“ A yawn comes from her end before she continues, “As of now, I think I’ll go back to sleep.“

“Alright, alright. I’ll call you again later to make sure you’re still alive. Sleep tight.“ I tell her, already hovering my thumb over the ‘Hang up‘ button.

“Won’t let the hangover bite.“ She slurs/murmurs, stealing my opportunity to end the call cause she does it herself.

I stare at my phone for a second, finally becoming aware of the grin that has spread across my face. Eventually, I address my viewers once again, “There you have it, guys. Technically, you can give her a pass for answering the call, especially in her current state, so let’s all agree to not hold this against her, cool?“

A brief look at my chat shows me the ton of fluffy comments that are coming in as a reaction to the interaction Y/N and I just had. One, however, sticks out especially. It reads: ‘You like her or smt?’

“Do I like Y/N?“ I read the comment out loud, a smirk coming across my face, “Of course I do. She’s a darling.“ If I had a webcam on I’d look straight into the lens and wink. That’s probably spark more than enough rumors, but at the very least they wouldn’t be wrong. “I’ve stalled enough, Outlast is waiting.“ I announce, finally starting the game. After all, it cannot be scarier than the conspiracies my fans could come up with. I get it though - from their perspective, we’re already the perfect couple; from my perspective we’re impossible because from Y/N’s perspective we’re best friends.

Ain’t that how it always goes?

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo  @beatrhizn  @blueberrystigma  @beatrhizn  @chicken-taco-burrito  @scorpios-echos

[soulmate-game]

New fic *test*

New Bio!dad Bruce story? I’m testing out this first chapter, and if I like where it’s going I might add it to my growing pile of WIPs. If I have inspiration, I might as well use it. Because of life events stressing me the hell out, I’m throwing any writing plans out the window and I’m purely gonna write to destress right now. Whether that means updating THG or not, or continuing Maribat March, we’ll just have to see how this all pans out. Things are subject to day-to-day change.

I got inspiration from this from rereading my day 1 story for Bio!dad Bruce Wayne month from last year. I’m just gonna change a few things.

—*—*—*—*—*

For once, an unfamiliar face attracted the attention of everyone who caught even a glimpse of them. It wasn’t even because of the person themselves at first, but their dress. The skirt like the most fantastical of storybook ball gowns, fluffy layers of satin over a luxurious petticoat, with a stunning pink floral pattern whose busy appearance was tastefully offset by a shorter, sheer layer of leaf green tulle artistically weaved and somehow sculpted over the floral in order to tame it. The effect turned what should be a grandmotherly pattern into something softer, sophisticated and youthful and yet also reminiscent of fairytale princesses. Over top the short layer of green tulle was an even shorter later of white tulle, almost invisible except for the elegant embroidery of crystal-white vines that twined all over it, connecting the green below it to the bottom-most floral pattern and oddly adding a layer of childishness instead of maturity. At the waist of the dress was a dark plum pink satin ribbon, to separate the elaborate ballgown skirt from the bodice. Attached to the simple ribbon was a large brooch of fabric flowers, with a single plastic ladybug in the center.

The bodice of the dress came up into a cheongsam neckline, but was sleeveless. It was a simple design, of half green and half dark pink, with a white border separating the two. The white border had expertly done embroideries in a soft silver thread that would only be visible close up, the images the thread made being that of fairies and ladybugs dancing around one another.

It was, all in all, a stunning display that made the small eurasian woman wearing them look like absolute royalty. Perhaps a long lost fairy princess. Her black-blue hair was even done up in elaborate looping braids and a braided bun, with silver and green pins that further completed the regal ensemble. And yes, while the expertly done dress was what initially captivated her current audience, it was not what kept them from leaving her alone. That was all her personality, bubbly and bright as her blinding smile. It was a sunny disposition that very few people present had any exposure to at all, and it drew them like a sunflower to the daylight. They could not help but flock closer, or even just stand back and keep themselves turned to her presence. Already she had been at the gala for two hours, but there was no issue. She just kept proving her generosity, admitting she had donated both a dress and a suit of her own making to the charity auction that would begin soon, one of the main attractions of the gala. She skillfully charmed the more snooty of the attendants, and artfully twisted her words so that they felt compelled to donate more money that they truly had no use for. Later, they would remember their donation and wonder what compelled it, but come up with no satisfying answer.

And yet she was entirely unaware of her more silent audience, who stood back and observed. Truth be told, every one of them was glad to not be the center of that attention for a change, to have room to breathe for so long at an event where usually that commodity was so scarce that it demanded a fierce competition for. Compared to her garden of color, they were all shadows in shades of blacks and blues and whites, with a touch of red here and there that was entirely too thematic for their home city. The one who sported a royal blue suit tilted his head at the scene they were all calmly witnessing, his bright azure eyes glittering.

“She’s like magic,” he mused, clearly enchanted despite having not said a single word to the woman. “Perfect socialite. She’s kind, generous, she made that dress and the ones she donated to the auction herself so she’s obviously got an intimidating amount of skill for her age. She even tricks those old fuddy-duddies into spending money. It’s like a dream come true!”

“I don't trust it,” the one to his right said, a man just a few inches shorter in a classic black suit with a red dress shirt underneath. He absently swept his bangs away from his face as he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “It seems too perfect. She doesn’t have any identifiable character flaw, except maybe being a little clumsy and too energetic. She does babble a little… but nothing that actually suggests any depth besides her just being— good. That’s impossible, and I don’t trust it.”

“Tt. I agree with Drake for once. She seems entirely too comfortable with this setting, despite her blushes and rambles,” the one who spoke this like was taller, clearly a teen in the middle of his growth spurt. He, too, wore a plain black suit but his had subtle charcoal embroidery and he wore an emerald-green dress shirt under it that made his matching eyes gleam dangerously. “It seems almost playacted. Expertly so, but nonetheless not entirely genuine.”

“Wow, not many pick up on that. I’m gonna give your observations a solid eight out of ten. They’re all perfectly sound, but not quite complete,” a new voice made all of the silent group stiffen— somehow they had been snuck up on. The newcomer smirked at them as if having fully expected their reaction but still being pleased at being able to evoke it. This was yet another stunner; far too much color in her outfit to be a Gotham native, and far too much skill in the construction for it to signify anything less than extreme influence. She had bright golden-blond hair that was coiled into a low bun, with her bangs artfully curled and arranged to display her crystal blue eyes.

In contrast to the garden-themed dress of the Eurasian woman who had garnered their attention at first, this newcomer was wearing a pantsuit. It was all in a dark honey-gold, in a stiff fabric with construction that made it lay entirely in perfect, straight lines and hug her form in the right places. Black embroidery decorated the long, flared sleeves and pant legs and dripped around the square neckline like a faux necklace. A cape made out of the same material as the rest of the pantsuit was draped on one shoulder. It started out as the same honey-gold color, but it became a gradient as it faded to a solid black at the ends. Gold thread embroidery decorated the solid black bottom of the cape in delicate, deceptively simplistic swirls. The top half of the pantsuit was clearly inspired by military garb, simultaneously rigidly constructed yet fitted, with circular onyx buttons going down the center of the chest and a thick metal belt, all in swirling silver and black, sat perfectly clasped around her waist. It was far more solid-colored and simplistic compared to the fairytale dress in the center, but no less show stopping and luxurious. It simply showcased an entirely different attitude, almost as if the two women could never get along if their personalities matched their outfits.

“And who are you?” The man who had been the center of the group of shadow-like adults spoke up, back straightening to milk every speck of his generous six-feet-and-three-inches of height. This was none other than Bruce Wayne, the host of this annual charity gala. And normally, his current stance would either intimidate or utterly charm whoever it was directed at— but not this pantsuit-clad blond warrior. Her smirk merely widened, and her blue eyes took on a slight shade of teal as if trying to mimic the dangerous ocean depths.

“I am Chloe Bourgeois, the daughter of Andre Bourgeois, the mayor of Paris, and Audrey Bourgeois, the Style Queen. It’s nice to meet you again, Monsieur Wayne,” she introduced herself imperiously. “I also happen to be the best friend of the girl you were just staring at.”

Bruce nodded, but had trouble reconciling this clear powerhouse of a woman with the bratty and entitled preteen he had met years ago, at the last gala she had attended with her mother. “Of course, I didn’t recognize you at first Chloe. You’ve grown a lot since the last Gala I saw you at.”

Chloe wrinkled her nose, clearly not appreciating the reminder. “I was a bitch,” she admitted easily, seemingly not at all bothered by the confession. It caused not only Bruce but also the oldest three of his sons, who had all also met her in the past, to blink in silent shock. “Things have changed. Paris is apparently the perfect chaotic environment right now to promote emotional growth and smack spoiled kids over the head with reality,” she shrugged. Part of the reason her and her whole class had even been able to come to the Gala in the first place was the fact that Bruce wanted to offer the most attacked group of Parisians a respite and some support from their crazy lives. The fact that even Gotham seemed sane in comparison to Paris was a bit of a hard hit for both involved parties, but in the end everyone understood that “more sane” didn’t always equate with “less dangerous.” Considering all that, Chloe had no reason to sugarcoat the situation in her home city. “But it wasn’t easy at all, and Marinette was largely responsible for my improvement too.”

“Marinette?” The heathen who somehow got away with attending a gala in a black leather jacket over a dress shirt and suit pants asked, raising a brow. Chloe nodded.

“The girl you were just goggling at. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the class president and resident workaholic. Does she ever sleep? Nobody knows,” Chloe shrugged.

The blue-suited man, Dick Grayson, shot a suspicious glance at Tim, who was standing to his right, as if he was worried his brother had made a female clone of himself just so he could continue to work hard and never rest. Tim ignored him and sipped from the thermos of coffee he had somehow snuck in.

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the focus back onto himself, and shot his most charming smile at Chloe. “They would have known who she was, if they had read the brief information I gave them about your class. But they never do listen to me,” he complained with good humor. “But back to the original topic, Miss Bourgeois, do you care to correct us on how our observations are lacking?”

Chloe laughed easily, smiling and nodding to indicate Marinette, still stuck in a circle of socialites and not seeming the least bit worn out.

“Of course. First; She is not completely acting. She really is like magic sometimes— disgustingly kind, generous, far too willing to help just about anyone for just about any reason. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, as much as it pains me to admit it. But she is exaggerating her personality a bit and hiding the parts she doesn’t want anyone to see, so there is a little acting involved. Just not as much as you seem to think,” Chloe then waved her arm in a flourish as if she were presenting Marinette to them. “In short; behold Mari Dupain-Cheng, the ridiculously likeable, disgustingly cute, extremely philanthropic mask that she shows everyone at public events like this. You don’t see any of the insomnia, or the anxiety, or the self doubt. Just the parts she wants you to see, accompanied with a smile to blind you to everything else,” her all-too-deep blue eyes settled back on Bruce then, a knowing glint shining in them. “Don’t you think that’s ridiculously similar to Brucie Wayne for you, Monsieur? Utterly, ridiculously, similar?”

Bruce grit his teeth. He hadn’t expected anyone else to know about his exceptionally well hidden secret, not even his kids had caught on or found his buried evidence yet. Yet his heiress comes up, nearly flaunting her knowledge in his face with all too many unspoken questions and criticisms.

And her cryptic words had succeeded in making all of his kids look at him with extreme suspicion. Shit.

“What are you saying, Miss Bourgeois?” he cautiously prodded. She hummed noncommittally before dropping the bomb all too casually;

“I’m saying I’ve seen her adoption papers, and you won’t be able to run from her for long Monsieur Wayne. As soon as she gets an opening, she’s going to pounce,” Chloe’s eyes glittered dangerously again. “And nowadays, Marinette doesn’t ever let people escape her. Your problem with adoption has created a rather unique problem, you know. You’re at fault for a large majority of her self confidence issues, and I want you to know that I am not going to forget or forgive that anytime soon.”

“Bruce,” Jason’s voice was dark and threatening. “What is she talking about?”

“Something we don’t want getting in the tabloids,” Yet another new voice popped up, allowing Chloe to smugly sink back into the background.

Somewhere during their discussion, Marinette had ambushed them.

“Chloe and I are very good at locating all the reporters in a room and distracting them, but we’re not infallible and this event has far too much coverage,” Her smile reeked confidence and charm, but this close all the Waynes could see the doubt hiding in her bluebell eyes. “Since I’m about to turn eighteen, I figured this would be as good a time as any to finally confront you. I want to make it clear that I seek nothing from you, except the occasional contact. I would like to keep in touch, if nothing else. But if you are adverse to that… then at least answer my questions after the gala,” her eyes developed a hint of carefully controlled desperation. “Please.”

Bruce met her eyes evenly, trying to read her. But she was difficult, simultaneously too many emotions to sort through in her demeanor and much too little. After an extremely tense moment of silence, his voice came out barely above a whisper:

“You do not want anybody to know?”

And hell, if she didn’t recognize the hidden vulnerability in his voice as the very same she heard in her own far too often. In a much tamer version of her own rambling, he went on:

“I can keep it silent if that is what you want. But I want you to know that I will not be adverse to you admitting it anywhere. I don’t expect you to change your name, but I would not be ashamed of the truth getting out. I am not ashamed of it, of you.”

Marinette’s smile grew a little watery. She had to clear her throat to keep herself from tearing up. “Maybe eventually, but not yet. I… I want to stay a little more anonymous for now. It’s one thing to be a well known designer with good connections. It’s an entirely different thing to be…”

“A Wayne?” Bruce finished, ignoring the daggers that were being stared into his back. “I understand completely.

“Father,” Damian’s voice was all sharp edges and rapidly suppressed panic. “What. Is going. On?”

Marinette shot him an apologetic smile. “Apparently, eighteen years ago, his prerogative was to put the child he actually knew about up for adoption when the mother died in childbirth,” her voice was once again only barely loud enough for them to hear, since she didn’t want any eavesdroppers. “Imagine my surprise when I find out he completely flipped sides only months later.”

--*--*--*--*--*

Hey, so please share your feedback on this. This is just to test out a possible new bio dad, multichapter fic and this is the opening scene I'm trying out. If you like it, please tell me what you like about it and please suggest titles for the story! I love you guys' feedback so much!

[cah0mie]

Since the Brothers are assholes (yes, Beel included since he wanted to eat you and didn’t care for your presence at first) when you first meet them, how about they deal with an MC that’s not gonna deal with their bullshit and isn’t phased by their threats? I hate it when otome games have you deal with jerks in the beginning but the choice bubbles are too nice whenever they insult the player.

Yeah, Yeah; They’re the top 7 demons of hell who don’t have to respect a human and are able to kill me with no effort but I don’t give a damn about that. You can’t drop me in hell with 7 assholes without my consent and expect me to be fine with it. I’m more than fine with calling em out and if they try and threaten MC, they would flat out say “At least I’ll die calling you out 🌚”

I like the way you think my guy. I couldn't agree more

To all my MCs that were much Harsher in the Beginning

-----

Mammon: Now listen here human! I was put in charge of you! In other words you have to do exactly as I say-!

MC: Shut the hell up... *Rubs temples* You're so loud.

Mammon: Wha- Who do you thi-!!

MC: Look dude. I don't really give a fuck who you are or what you could do. You really think I like the situation anymore than you do? I didn't fucking ask for an invitation, nobody even gave me a warning. So suck it up, and shut up. Cause we can't do shit now.

Mammon: I could eat you WHOLE right now!

MC: Be my guest. It'd be better then having to deal with this horse shit.

Mammon: .... What kind of human are you?

-one week later-

Levi: It seems like you're trying to suck up to me so I'll like you. It's no use denying it, I heard it straight from Lucifer.

MC: Oh nooooo, I'm caught. Whatever shall I do?

Levi: You're lucky to have so much free time too think up schemes like this. As much as I'd like to sit and watch a TSL marathon, I can't. There's so many animes I need to watch, trading cards to organize, figurines-

MC: Back the fuck up.

Levi: Eh?

MC: You're telling me you can't do what you want, cause you NEED to watch all these other shows and other shit? Bullcrap! These things are not necessities!! You can go on living without this shit! Do what the fuck you want! If you want to complain, do it in your head! Cause you have no one to blame but yourself.

Levi: You're actually treating ME like this!? You Normies, always rubbing it in that-

MC: And here you are, acting like a child. Do you ever take responsibility for your own actions? Always saying how unfair things are. News Flash! Life isn't fucking fair!

Levi: I could-!!

MC: Eat me? Smite me? Make me feel things I wish I didn't? Fucking go for it dude, I'm so fucking over it.

Levi: ...... Forget this, I have better things to do....

-a day or so later-

Lucifer: You should focus on surviving this year here, finishing the exchange program and going back to the human world. "Curiosity killed the cat". Curiosity can very literally get you killed here as well.

MC: Hey Lucifer, has it ever occurred to you that just maybe.... I DON'T CARE.

Lucifer: You're telling me that you don't value your life?

MC: No, I'm just telling you that I haven't been here long and I'm already over the whole, "I am above you" thing. You yourself, aren't willing to put a scratch on me since you're a fucking lapdog to his majesty.

Lucifer: You rotten-!!

MC: Save it dude, ya ain't gonna do shit. Hell, ya don't even know what my life may have been like before y'all kidnapped me. For all you know, this is everyday life for me.

Lucifer: .....What would you do if a lower level demon ever got their hands on you?

MC: Number one, you wouldn't let that shit happen in the first place. Number two, I'd just fucking let it happen. They probably have a better out for me than you guys.

Lucifer: ..... You petty and ungrateful creature.

MC: *shrugs* Truth hurts doesn't bitch?

-a week later-

Beel: You ate my creme puff, it had my name on it!

MC: You destroyed my wall and injured me. I think we're pretty even.

Beel: No we're not! Give it back!

MC: ...... If you're THAT fucking determined wait a few hours it'll come back.

Beel: That's disgusting.

MC: You kept fucking pushing it. Your own damn fault. Look, I'm an ass for eating you food, but you really are overreacting this is ridiculous.

Beel: It was my food!!

MC: ..... We're just going in circles at this point....

-a week later-

MC: Yo, fucklust! Ya mind not standing in front of the camera every fucking time!?

Asmo: But wouldn't you rather have a picture of something beautiful?

MC: I would. All the more reason for you to get the fuck out of my way!

Asmo: ... Are you saying, I'm not beautiful? Are you actually insulting ME?

MC: 'Oh how dare you! You hurt my feelings and called me out on shit! I shall kill you now!' If that's not petty, I don't know what is..

Asmo: .... You're not very nice.

MC: Like any of you have room to talk

-two days later-

Satan: Are you actually rejecting ME!? You!? A mere human!?

MC: Oh, cut the shit!! Satan! Why the flying FUCK would I make a pact with you! I'm making pacts to gain Lucifer's respect, NOT PISS HIM OFF MORE!!

Satan: Does it look like a I care!? I said to do it!

MC: And I said to fuck off! I'm not going through with this Satan!

Satan: I will cut of your nose and ears. Rip off your arms and legs. And feed you to a lower level demon!!

MC: Fucking go for it dude, I don't give a damn anymore. You lot are impossible to talk sense to, and this here proves it.

Satan: Don't you dare trifle with me!

MC: Y'all are just toddlers who cry when things don't go your way!

-when mc goes back in time-

Belphie: Aaww.. You don't know want a hug? Shame, I was hoping to share my happiness with you..

MC: Yeah, I'm sure you did

Belphie: What does that mean?

MC: I mean, you never did plan on walking out of this together, did you? You had always planned on taking me out and walking away yourself.

Belphie: ...... If you'd known that, why did you help me?

MC: Number one, THIS *gestures to door* was an ACCIDENT. Number two, I may or may not have made a mistake and I'm trying to fix it. Number three, Beel misses you so much. How can I not? So let's just walk away from this together and join the rest of the-!

Belphie: *starts choking the life out of them*

MC: Or just kill me, get it over with, and I won't have to bother with any of you anymore.

Belphie: With pleasure.

-When MC encounters Belphie once again in the time loop-

Belphie: How can a human have such a strong will to live.

MC: Because I am determined to tell each and every one of you how fucking stupid you all are.

-----------

This is a lot longer than I intended it to be. I'm sorry I still don't know how to place the keep reading button (or whatever it is). I had quite a bit of fun writing this, I hope you have just as much fun reading it 😁

I accept all forms of constructive criticism, so if you see anything you feel could be better let me know.

[imfiguringitoutlovely]

You said send requests so here’s one! I was thinking a Midoriya x he/him male reader. The prompt being is always a little cinnamon role but the second someone starts messing with Midoriya, they become the literal devil to defend their honor. And Midoriya just finds that hot. If that’s alright with you!

midoriya and the duality of his man

pairing: izuku midoriya x male!reader (he/him)

genre: fluff, MIDORIYA BRAINROT-

warnings: bullying towards reader/izuku, threats of violence (from reader), strong language (ish), season 3 spoilers

author's notes: I SCREAMED WHEN I READ THE REQUEST YESYESYES IZUKU W SCARY SUNSHINE BF HEHEHEHE IM WATCHING EP103 RN SO AHHH THIS WAS PERFECT TIMING

you're class 2-a at this point and yes, i know that canonically neito doesn't see aizawa vs dabi clone, but... this is an au kinda...sorta...so...IM SORRY-

ALSO i made the reader's quirk a mutation quirk of sorts; basic premise is that once eye contact is made, reader takes on the physical form of who their opponent fears the most (for ex, for Dabi, reader could morph into Endeavor and even take on his quirk, but the reader can only do with it what their opponent can recall in specific detail. it only lasts while the opponent is within a certain distance, or the details get "fuzzy" and start to wear off)

he. absolutely. fucking adores you. when izuku midoriya says "i love..", you better listen closely; he's being nice enough to give you the list of who you don't mess with.

but a lot of people seem to not catch onto that. they still won't catch on, either, but it's not that they don't learn; you don't let your boyfriend teach them.

see, he'd yell at them, attack their very s o u l. he's clearly very protective, and he'll do anything to keep you safe from anyone, emotionally and physically, from a worldwide-wanted villain to a petty school villain. but you wouldn't let him.

no, you - his absolutely ray of pure sunshine - refuse to let him get into fights for you. you insist on forgiving, forgetting, and moving on, and if it weren't for the bright smile you give right before hugging his arm, he would've insisted that it's impossible for him to do that.

but for you? nothing is impossible to do if it's for you.

so yes, izuku midoriya loves his sunshine boyfriend. he loves how bright his smile is, how tight his hugs are, how much fight he has on the battlefield, etc. etc.

but most of all he loves his heart. how could someone be so... sweet? so kind and gracious and loving.

(side note, Love Like You is the song for this relationship, hands down, i'm not taking rebuttals)

he loves you. so much. and because of how much he loves you, he assumes he knows most things about you; your favorite color, dessert, dinner, breakfast, snack, candy, handwriting, your little quirks - hell, the dude even knew all the things you disliked, down to the tiniest details.

so it comes as a huge surprise when one day he just sees this side of his sunshine boy that doesn't match up with everything else.

OKAY OKAY SO

he's seen you use your quirk. he knows how terrifying it can be, but he also knows that you don't necessarily enjoy having it. it's caused you a lot of pain, actually. for example, you used it on katsuki, and morphed into... katsuki. it fucked with his head for a long time, but it messed with yours, too...

but because of all of this, he's never seen you use it personally. it's only in battle.

except one day, some BITCH named monoma decides to be a bITCH- test your patience.

all you're trying to do is walk to class with your boyfriend, hands lightly swinging together. you're wearing your tie the way he does and he's wearing his properly for the first time, courtesy of you tying his and him tying yours.

it's early, and you hadn't really gotten much beauty rest the night before (which you owe to the great beautiful trauma™ from your quirk). izuku, too, is pretty sleepy since he snuck to your room after you texted him a jumbled mess of apologies for a nightmare you thought had actually occured irl. and all of this adds up to: monoma being extra annoying.

"ah, 'snap, crackle, pop' and the next boogie man." his voice is just scraping your eardrums, but you don't say anything about it. there's no use in giving into his teasing.

"good morning, monoma. i hope you've had a good morning." such grace, and your smile is so bright that if he wasn't a narcissistic abuser 🤬 sorry ive been all in on the gabbie hanna drama, this is a reference to her use of it, not actual narcissistic abuse, it...sUcks LMAO jerk, he would've stopped. but he is a jerk. so.

"i was, but then i was reminded of you and your class." izuku insists on continuing to walk, and you don't fight. but then- "to be honest, though, it does strike up another question for me." just keep walking... "one about you, midoriya."

that seems to strike something in you, though normally you would just walk a little faster. you pause and your muscles go all tense. still, you don't verbally respond.

"[Name]...?" midoriya notices your sudden shift in mood and his worry immediately starts building up. he barely even listens to monoma, his true attention all on you.

"is...his downfall on dear bakugou's shoulders alone?" your heart starts beating hard and your body feels cold all over. "or..." you manage to start refocusing when your boyfriend squeezes your hand. monoma has stopped walking, his voice a bit more distant. "if you'd been just a bit faster, a lot... better, do you think allmight would still be... well, allmight?"

that, you can tell, hits izuku like a truck. he stutters over his steps and chokes on his breath.

the insult, the hurt and shock in your boyfriend's eyes, the eyes you're used to looking up to that shine with fire, determination, they're... hurting.

you don't even know where it comes from, but you break your hand away as you whip around to face him.

"listen here." you don't notice your body shifting, don't realize that you teo have made eye contact and you're using your quirk without thinking. "you're going to stop talking... turn around... and leave us the fuck alone."

terror. and even thought he knows how your quirk works, he can't look away. he can't move. and he can't respond.

"did i stutter?" now his legs worked, and he uses them to stumble away. the other students in the hall couldn't seem to. their feet are rooted in the ground and they stay silent, and you have to look in a window reflective enough to see that you're dabi, melting. you hadn't been using his voice, though, apparently, likely because neito had seen this happen from inside and didn't hear him.

once realizing what you were doing, you force yourself back to your own physical form. your heart rate is starting to calm down, but you're sti red in the face with anger, so you stubbornly march back to your boyfriend's side and hug his arm.

"i-i'm sorry for that," you manage to mutter as your anger turns into both embarrassment and guilt. did he think you were a bully? just ad bad as monoma? did he think you were-?

"d-don't apolog-apologize." thinking it's fear, you look up at him hoping to read his face. much to your surprise, he's red, flustered.

"...'zuku?"

"y-yeah?"

"are you...blushing?"

"a-ah - i'm sorry, i've just never seen that side of you and it caught me off guard, but-but not in a bad way and-!!"

"no-no! izu, it's okay, don't be sorry, i'm sorry if it was overkill-!"

and you two fumble right outside your classroom, apologizing back and forth repeatedly until he blurts it out.

"i thought the way you stood up for me was-was hot!" and that has you both red in the face, not quite sure what to say next.

"...it didn't scare you?"

"i-i mean it... it looked like him, but it was you and your voice and your... it- i-" you sort of lean forward, hiding your face in his chest as the bell rings and successfully pulling him into a hug.

"i love you, 'zuku." he relaxes, hugs back, but the red wont go away.

"i-i love you, too..."

"mIDORIYA HAS THE HOTS FOR [NAME]-!"

"SHUT UP, PINKY-!"

[hyetiny]

c// fem!reader, superhero reader, villain yeosang, lowkey enemies to fwb, top yeo, bottom reader, bodily scars + showing them to each other, mentions of violence, clubbing, drinking, dry humping, oral (f receiving), knifeplay, pain kink, choking, degradation, dirty talk, protected sex, yeo monster cock

please read the tags carefully, this may not be for everyone!

this is the longest thing i've ever written omfg. also i’m really proud of this, please don’t let it flop :’D

kang yeosang was the root of everything wrong in your life, you had decided.

he was like the annoying fly that wouldn’t stop buzzing around your ear on a hot summer’s day. no matter how many times you were certain that you had vanquished the city of the blight that was yeosang, the supervillain managed to come back unnoticed.

at this point, you were convincing yourself it was impossible to cease him from causing trouble. on shitty nights like this, you went down to the discreet nightclub, hidden away in a dark alleyway. whether you needed a good drink or a good fuck, the club was always there to provide.

“the usual?” the familiar bartender yunho asks, taking in your frustrated expression and slumped shoulders that he sees far too often. 

“yep, a slouchy susan.” you roll your eyes at the corny names yunho would come up with, your mind wandering to the silly names he must have had for the other patrons. it was always comforting to have a chat with the friendly bartender after a hard day - plus, you couldn’t deny he was absolute eye candy. 

“top it off, please.” you shift your glass back to him after downing it.

“put it on my tab, yuyu”. a familiar, deep voice comes from next to you.

you turn to see yet another unbelievably attractive man. he has blonde hair that grows just past his neck, his natural black roots starting to show through. from where you’re sitting on your rickety stool, you pick up on the hint of cologne that lingers on him. you’ve never seen him before, yet something about him seems eerily familiar, like you’ve seen him in a dream.

you shake off the feeling, instead deciding to chat him up.

“yuyu?” you giggle at his affectionate nickname for the barkeep.

“we go way back, it’s what his mother would call him when she’d drop him off to school. i guess it stuck”. the man smiles at you, visibly taking in your features and not breaking eye contact with you.

you’re taken aback by him, your heart thumping unusually fast for some reason.

“stop embarrassing me, yeo-”

the man clears his throat loudly. you must have missed something, because yunho immediately goes quiet and wordlessly hands your drinks - your “slouchy susan” and a whiskey for the man.

“so if he’s yuyu, what are you?” you ask him.

“you can call me ryusang.” he says.

“y/n”. 

the two of you lapse into easy conversation. you giggle at his lame jokes, and he does the same. you find common interests, funny anecdotes, blissfully letting the stresses of the day slip away with each word of the attractive ryusang.

soon enough, the dance floor grows crowded and the music gets louder.

“dance with me?” ryusang stands up, offering a hand. you take it gratefully, letting him drag you to the dance floor. it’s a mess of sweaty bodies, but you don’t care as you become part of it with ryusang. his hands find your hips, and you’re both falling into an easy rhythm, completely in sync with the trap music blasting from the speakers.

as expected, the space between you gradually gets smaller and smaller, until it’s practically non-existent. you’re shamelessly grinding against each other, joining the litany of couples who are completely up against each other. you pretend not to pay any mind to his noticeably growing bulge, instead deciding to tease him a bit by intentionally grinding up harder against him. this night was going right where you wanted it to.

“my place is near here.” he whispers right into your ear, making you shiver underneath him.

“then we’d better get out of here quickly, hm?” you say in response.

since you had both been drinking, you decide to take a cab to his place. the sexual tension is rife in the air. you deliberately, teasingly lay a hand on his thigh, oh so close to his crotch, his face glowing red as it clearly riles him up.

when you get up the flight of stairs up to his apartment, and he fumbles with the key for what feels like minutes, you’re all over each other. the first kiss you share is nothing but messy - all teeth and tongue, nothing but complete lust for one another. he’s gently guiding you towards his room, until your legs hit his mattress. you break the kiss, only for him to gently lay you down, straddle you, and get right back to sloppily kissing you.

he undoes the buttons of your blouse without breaking the kiss, impressively with one hand. he breaks the kiss once again to take in the sight of your newly exposed skin. his eyes engulf the expanse of scars on your skin, some older and some looking to be very much recent.

“who did this to you?” he whispers in what seems to be a mixture of awe and anger. hesitantly, he runs a finger across a thin line that spans from your lower belly to your ribcage.

“you did, yeosang.” you say, deadpan.

he pauses, his heart dropping to his stomach.  “excuse me?”

“did you think you were fooling me? seriously, why didn’t you pick a less obvious fake name?” you giggle. despite the vulnerable position you’re in, you clearly hold the upper hand, indulging in his shocked expression. you hadn't missed the bartender's obvious slip up of yeosang's name, and could never forget that deep voice of his that would always taunt you.

“you’re always screwing me over y/n. i didn’t think we’d end up like this”. he says as a smooth recovery.

you roll your eyes. “remember when you gave me this?” you tap at the scar. he shakes his head.

“two years ago. you were trying to get rid of all power in the city. i almost stopped you, so you pegged a knife right here.” 

“if i was trying to kill you, the knife would’ve stuck.” he says defensively. “you got away with a scratch, only because i wanted that.”

“well, thanks for not trying to kill me, kang yeosang. i’m flattered.” you say sarcastically. 

“well, you gave me something worse.” he strips himself of his shirt. to no surprise, his skin is similar to yours. a canvas for an array of marks and scars, most of which you recognize to be your own work.

you point to an especially long one on his collarbone. “that one was definitely me.”

“yeah, and it hurt like a bitch.” he says snarkily.

“well, now we’re both half naked.”

“nice catch.”

“well for convenience’s sake, we may as well get back to-”

his lips are on yours again, effectively shutting you up. you don’t protest - besides, it’s hard to when his tongue is in your mouth. 

what you don’t expect is the cold press of something against your throat, which then trails down to your collarbones. it isn’t pleasant, but not uncomfortable either. it’s sharp against your skin, and your curiosity gets the best of you.

yeosang begins to press open mouthed kisses against your skin, alongside what you now see is a familiar knife in his hand. you begin to feel more vulnerable underneath him, knowing he had complete power over you. yet somehow, you don’t feel afraid of the man who has your life in his hands.

he undoes your jeans, letting out a low whistle at the damp spot forming against your panties. the flat side of the blade presses against your clothed core, earning a whine for him.

"fucking touch me already". you say through gritted teeth, despising that your mortal enemy has you so needy for him.

"am i not already touching you?" he says with a shit eating smirk. fuck him, you think. but that was exactly what you wanted to do.

to your surprise, you hear the sound of fabric ripping, and a sudden cold against your core, as though-

"i liked those." you say frustratedly, finding yeosang pulling away the ripped remnants of your panties away from your core.

"you look far better without them." is all he says before licking an experimental stripe up your already wet hole, earning a breathy moan from you. you don't have it in you to be mouthy when his tongue continues to tease your labia, eventually meeting your clit in what is the most heavenly thing you've ever felt. all thoughts of how much you hate the man currently eating you out are out the window as the pad of his finger presses against your clit, his tongue messily lapping at your hole as if he was just licking for his pleasure rather than yours.

your hips subconsciously grind up in tandem with his tongue, earning small moans from him as well.

"so fucking wet. do you usually get this wet this quickly, or are you just that much of a slut for me?" he chuckles.

it takes every ounce of self control not to flick him on the forehead. the degrading name catches you off guard, yet somehow it makes your hole clench needily. besides, you want what's hidden under the confines of his black jeans far too much to be mean to him right now.

"just... just fill me up, yeosang."

"i like you like this." he says with a cocky smile. it gives you butterflies, even though you know it means nothing more than just a spur of the moment thought. "beg for me a little more, and i'll think about it."

oh, the urge to punch him in the face.

"fuck you."

"that's the plan."

you sigh in frustration. "kang yeosang, my mortal enemy, fill me up with your monster fucking cock until i can't think straight." you say sarcastically.

surprisingly, it's enough for him. it seems you weren't wrong when you said "monster cock" his cock far thicker and longer than any cock you had taken recently. or in general, for that matter.

he must notice the way you gape at it, giggling to himself.

"cond-" you start, but he cuts you off by leaning over to his bedside drawer.

he shuffles around before he finds what he's looking for, sliding on the first condom he finds and coating himself in lube for good measure.

"ready? are you okay?" he asks, lining himself up against your entrance.

you want to roll your eyes, but you know he's just looking out for you. you give him a nod, and it's all it takes for him to push, breaching your wet hole and filling you up perfectly. you can't stop the high whine that leaves your lips. it's embarrassing, but yeosang seems to enjoy it, groaning into your ear.

"you're so fucking tight. expected you to be all stretched out like the whore you are." he whispers into your ear, embarrassingly only making you clench more around him.

you barely need to adjust, needing nothing more than for him to ruin you. his hips set a steady pace, grinding oh so perfectly against you. the tip of his cock perfectly reaches that sweet spot inside you, earning a louder moan for him. you'd be embarrassed with what his neighbours must be hearing, but it's the last thing on your mind when you have such a perfect cock stretching you out.

"fuck, my perfect slut. so nice and tight around my cock, huh? it's like this pussy was made to take my cock." he growls, his thrusts only getting harder and sloppier the closer he gets to his high.

"o-only for you." you cry out, gasping as he fills you up impossibly deep, over and over again. the coil building up in your stomach only gets tighter when his fingers find your clit.

the breaking point is when his lips meet your collarbone, leaving more kisses and tiny bites here and there. the sensations all over are too much for you. you cry out when your orgasm hits you harder than ever before, leaving you breathless. your orgasm triggers his as well, indicated by the long, pleasured groan he lets out.

you can't do anything but catch your breath as he pulls out, taking off the condom, tying it up and throwing it away in the bin next to his bed.

"who knew that all it took was a good fuck to get you weak for me?" yeosang breaks the silence.

"shut up." you say weakly, still too breathless to properly argue back.

"maybe i will, if you make me."

needless to say, he keeps you up for a few more hours until you both fall asleep, the first rays of the sunrise peeking through the blinds of his window.

the next morning, you wake up groggy and exhausted, the drinks and activities from last night finally catching up to your body. to your disappointment, yeosang isn't there next to you, the other side of the bed empty.

of course, the asshole didn't have the decency to wait for you to wake up. reaching out for your phone, you find to your surprise that there's a sticky note on it.

“last night was fun, we should do it again. i've gone out to wreak havoc, so i know our paths will cross again soon anyway.” - your mortal enemy, kang yeosang <3