#i was trying to go for a sort of playful voice change during conversations but i kind of went off track and ruined it

[cluedoenthusiast]

mini voices compilation part 1? [ 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 , 5 , 6]

+ this entire interview which i didnt include

[areyouwell]

Logan x angel!reader where the reader had to get medical treatment after a mission because her angel wings (that are apart of her mutation) were burned and partially damaged after battle, and Logan comes in to check up on her?

Tattered

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Word count: 10K

A/N: first request! so i definitely took some creative license with this... i sort of just kept adding scenes and ideas but this concept was so fierce boots i couldn't help myself. hope this is what you have in mind <3 i have also elected, from now onwards, not to use warnings on my fics unless there's explicit content in which case it will simply just have MDNI in red.

I don't have a taglist for like, oneshots or requests rn so lmk if anyone would like to be added :)

“Watch your six, Icarus!” Scott’s voice crackled from your earpiece as you swooped over the battlefield, the feathers in your wings fluttering in the wind. Glancing behind back, you realised why Scott had alerted you, three drones tailed you with six red dots seeking out your presence. Fuck, this wasn’t good. Why did nothing ever go right? Why were there always fucking complications?

You tucked your wings in tight against your back as you joined the rest of the team inside the Blackbird. You’d always been conscious of how much room you often took up, and whilst your mutation was your pride and joy, it was a common occurrence to feel a little self conscious when trying to cram multiple people into a tight space. You never occupied any of the seats in the cockpit, your wings wouldn’t allow it, and it was never comfortable for you anyway, the way they would shift and bend at unnatural angles meant you’d constantly be shuffling around to stop the awkward ache in your shoulder blades.

Icarus. That was your name. Well, not your name, but that’s what they called you on account of your gleaming golden feathers. You thought it was a little mean, to be honest. You had no intention of flying too close to the sun anytime soon, but alas, you were stuck with it, and over time, you’d come to appreciate it. They weren’t far off anyway. You did have grand ideals, and dreams to become something more than just a freedom fighter. You wanted to change the world and make it a safer place where humans and mutants could live in harmony. You knew a lot of the hard graft was political, and Hank was doing wonders for mutant reputation, but you still would like to contribute something other than stopping mutant slave trades and taking down illegal, anti-mutant organisations. 

That was the mission today. Some hate-crazed fuck had been building some kind of drone that could target the mutant gene. Kind of like the sentinels from years ago, but they’d been discontinued.

Thank fuck. 

The muscles in your shoulders tensed slightly as Ororo and Logan finally joined the rest of you, deep in conversation about the inevitable upcoming battle. You tucked yourself further into the wall, cursing lowly as you hit your head against the steel. 

Your relationship with Logan was… complicated, to say the least. The two of you instantly clicked when you met, finding yourself at ease with his gruff, surprisingly playful demeanour. You guessed he must have felt the same, since you noticed he would often seek you out during breaktimes, or take the seat next to you during meetings, sending you looks whenever Scott said something particularly leader-ish. You’d have to bite back a smile and attempt to keep your serious composure, lest anyone would think you weren’t taking the meeting seriously. 

And then there was the night things shifted between you. It was late, possibly early hours of the morning. Your muscles ached from being unable to find a comfortable position to sleep in, the beds not exactly being tailored to suit those with extra limbs, and with a huff of irritation, you’d given up to head downstairs and fix yourself an Irish coffee. And whilst there was a serious lack of Irish whiskey in the school, you knew Logan had a bottle of bourbon hiding somewhere in the cupboards, out of reach for most of the younger kids. 

You’d managed to clamber up onto the counter, perched precariously on the edge as you rifled around the top shelf, pulling down various unused cooking equipment before you finally came across the liquid gold. With a triumphant smile, you reached in further to wrap your fingers around the neck of the bottle, delicately pulling it from the depths of the cupboard. Only, it was stuck. 

The screw top kept scraping against the top of the cupboard, and you grit your teeth as your fruitless yanking sent pots and pans clattering against each other. You seriously didn’t want to wake anyone only to have them come down and find you up on your knees, balancing on the thin space of the counter, elbow deep in the top cupboard and frantically pulling at a bottle of whiskey. Fuck knows what kind of an impression that would give, but it certainly wouldn’t have been the correct one. 

Flaring your wings for balance, you completely misjudged the tips of your wingspan, knocking over an empty can of baked beans and sending it rolling onto the floor with a loud, deafening clang. You froze, attempting to quiet your breathing whilst you waited for the telltale sound of footsteps or the annoyed slam of a bedroom door. But your intense listening found nothing, the halls of the school blissfully quiet as you loosened your held breath. 

Nothing. Everyone was still asleep.

You turned your attention back to the stubborn bottle, this time trying to gently manoeuvre it around the baking bowls and saucepans, teasing it from the small little hiding place like you would a scared child. 

“Come… on.” You hissed with effort, finally freeing your vice from its trap with a final, harsh tug. Only, it was a little harsher than you’d have liked it to be. You grabbed the handle of the cupboard to your left to hold your balance, only for the door to swing open and provide absolutely no stability whatsoever. 

You felt yourself fall backwards with a frantic, whispered curse, swinging with the cupboard door, and resigned yourself to the sore back you’d get from falling to the floor. Or, at least, you would have fallen to the floor, if it hadn’t been for the sudden appearance of a warm palm at the centre of your spine. 

“Rough–” 

You yelped at the unexpected voice behind you, you entire body jumping as if you were shocked by a socket. 

“Stop screaming, it’s me,” Logan soothed with no small degree of subdued amusement. “Rough night?”

It wasn’t like he was asleep, more like dozing when he heard the soft padding of footsteps pass his door and head down the stairs. Knowing it was you, he assumed you’d just woken up thirsty and were heading down for a glass of water. His assumption proved incorrect when the clattering of pans and the clang of something hitting the floor broke the steady silence, and curiosity won over when he decided to investigate just exactly what it was you were doing. 

What he wasn’t expecting was to find you clinging onto the cupboards for dear life, his bottle of whiskey clutched in one stubborn hand and your other gripping the open door of the shelf next to you. And it was pure instinct to lunge forward and steady you before you fell to the floor, though in the following moments, he convinced himself it was purely because he didn’t want you to wake up anyone else.

“What?” You asked in bewilderment, turning your head to see his brow raise at the bottle you had in your white knuckle grip. How the hell hadn’t you heard him? You’d stayed silent for at least five minutes before resuming your attempts to pull the bottle out. How the hell had he managed to still creep up on you?

“It’s two in the mornin’ and you’re makin’ a grab for whiskey. So, rough night?” He asked again, moving his hands from your back to your waist, steadying you as you clambered down from the countertop, and he did his best to ignore the feeling of your warm skin seeping through the thin nightshirt you were wearing. At least you were wearing shorts. Though, he counted that as both a blessing and a curse. 

He liked you. Despite trying to gaslight himself otherwise, there were times when he truly couldn’t deny it. And this time was one of them. You looked a little dishevelled, hair slightly frizzy and out of place from tossing and turning, and it was one of the rare times he’d seen you without any makeup on. You never wore a lot, just enough to accent your already glowing features and cover any blemishes he thought you had no reason to feel self-conscious about. 

You were so perfectly yourself, it was tricky for him not to fall in love with you.

Not that he had, of course. This was just a surface-level crush…

Yeah. Totally.

“You uh, yeah, you could say that. One of those nights, ya know?” You offered a small, slightly dejected smile, and his heart bled slightly. He knew. More than he could say, he knew exactly what you were talking about.

“You plannin’ on drinking yourself to sleep?” He asked with wry suspicion as you leaned against the counter, placing his bottle next to the kettle you still needed to flip on. 

“The opposite, actually. Wanted to fix myself an Irish coffee. Seeing as I’m not sleeping tonight, might as well stay up.” You shrugged, finding the willpower to turn away from him and grab the ground coffee from the lower cupboard. Thankfully, it didn’t put up the same kind of fight as the bottle. 

It was getting increasingly difficult to ignore the electricity humming from where his hands were still against your waist, though his grip was lighter than when he’d helped you down. It truly wasn’t decent to detail the things you were thinking at that moment, and you had to force yourself to think of unsexy things. 

“We have a mission in two days and you’re pullin’ an all-nighter?” He asked, his brows pinching in badly concealed concern. Your heavy sigh did nothing to quench his worry.

“What’m I supposed to do? You try sleeping in a bed that’s too small with wings that stretch to either side of the room,” You huffed, flicking down the switch on the kettle and spooning a good two heaps of coffee grounds into the cafetiere. “Doesn’t matter what position. On my back or my side, shit’s so fucking uncomfortable it almost hurts.” 

“Why not sleep on your front?”

You snapped back to look at him, eyes hardening to steel. “No. Never sleep on my front.”

You’d said it with so much force he almost reeled back. There was a story there, there had to be, for you to clap back at him with such a bite there was no way it was just a personal preference. You hadn’t really told anyone about your life before the school, but from the bare snippets he’d heard from Charles, it wasn’t exactly how anyone would describe as happy. And there was fear behind that steel. Vulnerability. 

Logan sighed, leaning across you to flip the switch back up, stopping the kettle from boiling. You gaped indignantly, and before you could ask him just what the hell he thought he was doing, he spoke before you.

“Sleep with me.”

You choked, eyes blowing wide with shock. “I… what?”

Logan rolled his eyes, unable to tame the crooked curl of his lips at your complete one-eighty from irritation to stupefaction, even the feathers of your wings had puffed out slightly. “Not like that, freak,” although I wouldn’t be opposed. “Just… for company. Might help, s’all.” He offered quietly, and a blanket of realisation settled in your chest. He was awake too. It had only just occurred to you. He hadn’t been sleeping. He didn’t even look like he’d been sleeping. And it made more sense in your head for him to offer if it was something that could benefit both of you. 

It seemed highly unlikely he was offering just for you. Right?

“You sure? Don’t wanna like, intrude on your space or anything…” 

“Not intrudin’ if I offer,” he reasoned, and you guessed you couldn’t argue with that. With a heavy sigh, you looked back to the bottle of whiskey you’d fought wars to obtain, realising now that the whole cupboard situation had been for nothing. 

“All that effort,” you pouted comically, and Logan huffed a smile.

“I’ll put it somewhere easier next time. C’mon.” He nudged you before grabbing the bottle and returning it to the top shelf. You cursed his stupid height and the fact that he wasn’t down earlier. He could have retrieved it for you with so much less effort. But at the same time… if he had…

You wouldn’t be where you are now. 

You followed him back up the stairs, taking a left to the door only a few down from your own. You didn’t quite know how sleeping in the presence of someone else would help, but you were not about to say no to sleeping by his side. It wasn’t like this was something you’d thought about. At great length. And in great detail.

And this certainly wasn’t a scenario he’d entertained far too many times to count. 

Though upon seeing the double bed, that same self-conscious feeling reared its ugly head. There was no way you weren’t going to disturb him. You could barely find comfort in your own bed of the same size, let alone trying to sleep with someone else taking up space. You hesitated in the doorway, and Logan turned back to you, his head quirking to the side. 

“You ‘kay?”

“Yeah… s’just– are you sure I’m not gonna disturb you? Don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I take up a bit more room than other people…” you extended your wings in emphasis, barely able to stretch them to half their wingspan before the side of the closet and the wall stopped you. Logan breathed a soft smile, and you felt yourself shrink slightly. 

“I’ll be fine, just get in.”

You huffed in resignation, tucking the feathers close into your back and crossing to the other side of the bed, unable to stop thinking about how ridiculous this was. You really should just get the fuck over yourself and go back to your room. How tricky was sleeping on your front anyway? Maybe this time you wouldn’t wake up with a panic attack and you were just being dramatic this whole time. You were fine. It really wasn’t that deep. You didn’t want to disturb him just because you couldn’t get over some stupid fucking fear. This was–

“Christ, I’m not even a telepath and I can hear ya thinkin’. It’s fine, sweetheart. You’re fine.” He implored, throwing back the covers for you to take up the space next to him, but you continued to hesitate. “You want a written invitation or somethin’? Get your ass in bed.”

“Alright, jeez…” you pursed your lips to stop yourself from smiling at his smartass comment, keeping your wings firmly against your back as you shuffled beneath the covers by his side, careful not to take up too much room. Your shoulder started to cramp up slightly, but there was no way you were about to release the tension in your muscles until you were sure he was asleep. 

Pulling the covers up to your neck as best you could, you scooted down until your head hit the pillow, shifting in yet another attempt to ease the ache in your back. You hadn’t noticed he’d turned on his side to face you until you looked back ahead and were suddenly met with his flat look of exasperation.

“Seriously?”

“What?” Your voice raised into a pitch of innocence, and Logan barely managed to suppress his eye roll of sarcasm. 

“The point was for you to be comfortable.”

“I am comfortable!”

“As comfortable as someone would be whilst constantly tensing, yeah?”

“Logan, if I don’t, you’ll wake up with feathers in your nose.”

He snorted a laugh, and you giggled slightly along with him. “You look ridiculous.”

You gaped in mock offence. “Hey!”

“Come ‘ere…” in one swift movement, you were dragged from your position on your side, and he turned the both of you until you were settled on his chest. Panic swirled in your mind as your back was exposed to the room, until a steady hand soothed your racing pulse against your spine, in the space between your wings. You felt comfort dampen your anxiety, breathing deeply into the dip between his collarbone and neck, exhaling a shaky breath. You let the seconds tick by, expecting yourself to start gasping rapidly at any moment. But the longer your heart stayed settled, the more you realised this might actually work. “Y’okay?” He asked quietly, and you nodded against his chest.

“Yeah… just surprised. Usually, I’d be thinking I’m about to die by this point,” you half-joked, and though you couldn’t see him, Logan’s brows pinched in empathy. What the hell had happened to you before joining the team? Finding the school? His fingers slowly grazed through the short, fluffy feathers at the base of your wings, carding through the stiff joints. He watched in mild amusement as you shivered slightly, those feathers puffing out and shuddering at his touch. He lightly dug his fingers into the hard muscles around the joint, and you had to clamp your mouth shut to stop yourself from sighing in release. You hadn’t realised just how much strain it was to constantly keep them tight against your back, and whilst it had proven useful to build up the muscle, it had also resulted in some nasty knots. 

Achingly slowly, your wings started to relax, heavy, hollow bones coming to rest across his body, wingtips grazing the floors on either side of the bed as you blanketed the both of you in a soft, warm embrace. Your eyes started to grow tired, lids drooping with each gentle caress of his fingers across your back. 

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.” He whispered, and you didn’t have the energy to contemplate the fact he’d just used two new pet names for you. If you weren’t so damn tired, your insides would have exploded with butterflies by now, but the siren call of sleep lulled you into a sense of security, and with his steady heartbeat your lullaby, you gave in to the soft pull of rest. 

That was the night things changed between you. The day after he would barely leave your side, sticking by you throughout the morning, taking the seat next to you in the pre-mission meeting that same evening, sending you quick glances that he’d cut short whenever your eyes met. And it was the same when he entered the Blackbird, with you tucked tight against the wall. His eyes found you instantly, lips carving into a gentle smile, his hand falling to your shoulder as he walked past you. You savoured the touch, missing the contact when his hand fell back to his side, still deep in conversation with Ororo. 

“Do you want to fly above us, Icarus? Might be more comfortable,” Scott asked from where he’d taken his seat at the front of the jet, his head turning back to look at you through his glasses. You knew what he meant. There was only so much room in the Blackbird, and despite your best efforts, you were taking up a considerable amount. You took a moment to think, weighing up your options. And whilst you loved the freedom of flying, you couldn’t help but think it was a backhanded way of asking you to stop taking up so much room. He may not have meant it that way, but that’s just how it felt. 

“Uh, sure. Yeah, might be better…” You mumbled with a shrug, trying in vain to stop the hot shame from flushing your cheeks. 

Logan’s jaw tensed, his teeth grinding together, the sound resonating through his skull. He’d been trying so damn hard to get you to loosen up about your wings. And whilst he found it difficult to properly articulate just how gorgeous he thought they were, he thought he was finally making some progress after the last two days. So the way Scott insensitively asked you to fly instead of taking the jet wound him up. 

“Only if it would be better for you. Don’t do it just cuz ya think it’ll be more comfortable for everyone else,” he ground out with a pointed look to Scott, whose brows furrowed in brief confusion before his mouth fell open in horror.

“Shit, no that’s not what I meant! I just thought–”

“It’s fine, Scott,” you tried placating the panicking Cyclops. “I need to stretch them out before the mission anyway.” You smiled a liar's smile, hoping he wouldn’t see through the façade and into your genuine hurt before turning on your heel to head back down the ramp. You managed to make it roughly halfway before a hand caught your arm, stopping you short. 

“You’re not doin’ this cuz of these, right?” Logan asked, gesturing to your wings with his head, his eyes searching your expression as if he was looking to peer right through you. You offered him the same smile you gave Scott, and whilst it worked to settle Cyclops, it only served to broaden Logan’s concern. 

“Nah, I really do need to stretch them out, feeling kinda stiff today so it’s not a problem.” You said brazenly, shrugging off his concerns with faux confidence. You knew it didn’t work when his expression didn’t shift, his hand tightening slightly around your arm. You sighed, defeated. “It’s fine, Logan. Everyone’ll be more comfortable like this anyway, myself included. I won’t feel like I’m–”

“If you finish that sentence with ‘in the way’ I’ll throw you off the jet myself.” He borderline growled, and you tensed your jaw in slight irritation. Couldn’t he just let you have this? Couldn’t he just let you do this one thing to make everyone’s lives more comfortable? Why did he have to be so damn stubborn?

“Just… drop it, yeah? I’ll see you guys when we get there.” You bit, almost snatching your arm from his grip and continuing down the ramp, crouching low when you reached the bottom and launching into the skies, your wings beating hard as cold wind whipped your face. All Logan could do was watch you go, regret piercing his chest as the sound of your wings receded into the night sky. 

And that was how you found yourself already airborne when Scott’s voice crackled through your earpiece, the low hum of those three drones on your tail like the toll of death, the rapid beeping of target systems an accompaniment to the symphony. Tucking one of your wings in tight, you fell into a sharp stoop, panic rising in your chest as they followed you down. The hissing release of metal combined with the sudden roar of a rocket told you at least one of them had fired on you. You flared your wings, catching the air like a feathered parachute as you levelled out quickly, the missile shooting past you and into the ground below. The heat from the explosion fanned your face as you whipped around the wreckage of a building, those three drones still hot on your trail.

Logan looked up as you soared above, his claws drenched in blood as he yanked them out the helmet of some unfortunate soldier who’d made the mistake of thinking he could take on The Wolverine. His heart raced in his throat as those six dots wouldn’t stray from your body, drones expertly following your manoeuvres, mimicking every duck and dive, narrowly missing the corners of buildings and rising flames. Ororo’s voice crackled in his own earpiece, her tone frantic. 

“Icarus you gotta shake them!”

“NO SHIT!”

He almost winced at the panic in your voice, snapping back at Storm in a way he’d never heard you do before. Casting a quick glance to his surroundings, he saw Scott with his fingers braced on his glasses, beams of white-hot energy streaking the battlefield as he picked off one guard after another. 

“Scott!” He called, his legs pounding the ground as he ran over, slicing through the gut of a nameless, faceless soldier who stood in his way before he jogged to a stop. “Think you can get a clear shot?” He asked, his words rushed as his gaze returned to the skies, another explosion booming bright before you raced around the corner of the main building. 

“They’re moving too fast and it’s too much of a risk.” Scott called back over the din of battle, the crackle and boom of thunder overhead striking the earth with expert precision as Storm unleashed yet another bolt from the clouds above. A little too close to you for comfort. 

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as you levelled out, those tenacious six red dots still focused solely on your racing form, your wings beating and dipping with every expert manoeuvre as you once again swooped from sight. But it still wasn’t enough. 

“Lead the shot.”

“What?”

“Lead the damn shot, Scott. She’ll be comin’ back round, it’s a pattern. Just do it.” He almost pleaded, his voice cracking slightly. He knew you only had precious seconds before those missiles would fire again, and you couldn’t outrun them forever.

You crested back around the ruins of the facility, and it was only due to his enhanced sight could he see your confidence wavering, your jaw tense with concentration, though your eyes were blown wide with panic. 

The beep of the target systems increased rapidly, before blending into one long note. And it was like time came to a slow crawl. A puff of silver gas erupted from the base of the drone, a pinpoint missile dropping from the small hold to hone in on your location before Scott had a chance to take it out. 

Switching targets, Scott moved his head to the side slightly, leading the shot as Logan had said, the beam of pure, red and white hot energy shot from his glasses, quick as a blink. And for one, blissfully ignorant moment, Logan thought they’d succeeded.

But the missile was too close. The moment the pure energy collided with the steel casing, a ball of furnace orange flame and thick black smoke lit the sky. Before you had time to think, searing agony jolted your back, hellfire burning your shoulders and wings as you were thrust forward, losing control of your trajectory. Panic gripped your heart as you tried in vain to regain your altitude, but your wings weren’t responding. The stench of burning feathers and flesh singed your nose as you went down, caught up in the explosion between Scott’s beam and the missile. 

Wind roared in your ears, whipping your hair as you descended, flailing and spiralling, to the ground, trees and ruin rising to bring your fall, and your life, to a sharp end. 

“STORM!”

“ICARUS!”

Two indistinguishable voices exploded in your ears, deafening you over the din of death. You knew this was most likely it. This was most likely the end, but you felt numb peace as the wind kept you company, wrapping around you almost like a blanket as you braced your arms against your chest, pain splitting your body and mind as the open rooftop of a ruined house ripped through your suit and flesh as you struck the ground, knowing nothing more than darkness.

“No…” Logan whispered, his entire world coming to an abrupt halt as you descended past his line of vision, a cloud of black dust rolling from the wreckage of a home. You weren’t dead. You couldn’t be dead. He was moving before he’d even registered it, racing across blackened bodies and charred remains of structures. His throat tore with repeated cries of your name, pushing past collapsed beams and splinters of wood, shoving aside wrecked furniture and broken decor before he saw you.

Lifeless.

In a pool of your own blood. 

Your leg lay in an unnatural angle, your wings charred and broken, your wrist twisted in a way he knew it really shouldn’t be. His blood turned to ice in his veins, face blanching as he couldn’t see the rise and fall of your chest beneath the shrapnel and dust covering you. A jagged wooden spike protruded from the dip between your shoulder and your chest, the entry wound somewhere on your back.

He had to check if you were still alive, but he couldn't move, finding himself frozen in place. He couldn't lose you. Not when he was finally putting the foundations down for your relationship. He couldn't lose you now… 

But seeing your body broken like this… there was no way you could have survived that fall, even with Ororo’s help. She tried to slow your descent too late, a gust of wind appearing from nowhere to catch you just a second after she should have. Maybe you’d still be alive if she'd succeeded. Maybe you’d still be here if he hadn't asked Scott to shoot those fucking drones.

Maybe…

“Fuck! Icarus! Icarus can you hear me?” Storm rushed past him, followed by a horrified Cyclops, and if Logan could focus on anything other than your twisted limbs, he'd see the overwhelming sense of guilt on his face. 

Ororo pushes off the splinters of wood and debris from your body, her movements hurried yet careful, terrified of moving you too much. She placed two trembling fingers against the side of your neck and waited. 

And waited. 

And waited…

Logan thought the moment would never end, silence blanketing the ruined room as the three of them could do nothing but watch, Jean quietly placing a hand on Scott's shoulder. 

“There's a pulse!” Storm cried, a sob of relief erupting from her throat as Jean rushed forward, her hands ghosting the top of your body. 

You were alive. Alive. How the fuck had you survived that? There was no way you could have survived that. You fell from over two hundred feet, how the fuck–

“We need to stabilise her. She's lost a lot of blood and it hasn't stopped. Can you tell what the damage is?” Storm turned to Jean, hoping her telekinesis could find something, anything that would provide more information. 

“Broken ribs, her lung is punctured, I think she's bleeding internally and we can’t remove this or she’ll bleed out… I can't do shit out here, we need to get her back to the school. Now.” Jean's voice took on a tone of authority, spurring Scott back into action, but Logan was still paralysed. It was only two nights ago you were sound asleep on his chest, only yesterday he couldn’t stand being further than two feet from you. 

Logan…

You were alive, but how long for? Was he just given false hope, only to lose you on the way? On the operating table? How much longer did you have? How much longer did he have?

“Logan…”

He wanted to blame Scott. Fuck, he wished he could blame Scott. But the truth was, he asked him to take them out. He was the one who asked if he had a shot. He was the one who coerced him to take it. Would you have been okay? Would you have been able to shake them on your own? Had he single-handedly brought on your fall?

“LOGAN!”

Logan blinked rapidly, eyes burning from how long he was staring, unblinkingly, at your broken body. Numbly, he tore his gaze from you and over to Ororo, and though her brows were pinched in concern, her eyes were hard with determination. 

“I know, but if we wait any longer, we’ll lose her. Think you can clear Jean a path?” She glanced pointedly to the rubble somewhat blocking the doorway, and it took him another second before forcing his body to move, nodding wordlessly to Ororo’s orders. He wasn’t usually one to just mindlessly obey, but he wasn’t able to think straight at the moment and was honestly thankful for the others taking charge. 

He was strong at the best of times, but self-hatred fuelled his arms to work overtime, shoving away impossibly large beams and collapsed part of the wall before there was a clear path for Jean to levitate you through. Your smouldering wings dragged along the ground, tattered and torn, gathering dust and grime along the bloodied tips. Only now had could he get a glimpse of your back, the worst of the damage caking your shoulders and wing joints in blackened crimson. Feathers had burned away, leaving your mutation raw and weeping. You didn’t know what he was talking to Ororo about on the walk to the jet. You didn’t know he was asking her if you had a favourite food, or colour, or flower. You had no idea he’d planned to officially ask you out after the mission. 

Now you might never know.

Scott slowly approached him, looking as if he were in a state of complete shock, replaying what went wrong over and over again in his head. All it took was one glance, and Logan didn’t even need to see his eyes to know they were buried in remorse. He wanted to be furious at him, but he couldn’t. He wanted to be beside himself with desperate anger, but there was nothing to be angry at him for. This wasn’t Scott’s fault…

It was his. 

The ride back to the mansion took days and also five seconds, Jean doing her best to keep you stable whilst Ororo took the pilot’s seat, Scott being in no shape to fly anything. Logan found himself too terrified to touch you as if the slightest movement could worsen your condition. In the silence of the ship, he could hear your haunting, rasped breaths, slow and shallow. The stench of charred flesh and boiled blood made his stomach clench, but not as much as the wounds across your body. He forced himself to look at them. To look at what he’d done to you because of his choices. Forced himself to sear every weeping burn, every broken bone, every blood-soaked bandage into his memory. Your wings, which once held so much majesty and beauty, now lay in tatters, and he had no idea if they would grow back. Would you ever be able to fly again? Logan didn’t know if he’d be able to look himself in the mirror if he’d taken that from you too. 

“She’s going to be okay, Logan. She’s stabilised for now and the Professor already knows the situation. Hank’s on standby and Charles has called in a favour from a surgeon. She’ll be in the best hands possible when we get there.” Jean attempted to comfort him, all the while focussed on keeping you stable from any turbulence and making sure your wounds didn’t worsen. 

“I did this…” he whispered, uttering the first words since watching you fall. Speaking his thoughts into the thick silence, the rest of the team cast glances at each other, Scott running a hand through his hair.

“No… I should have trusted your judgment. I hesitated. Fired too late. You can’t blame yourself for this…” He hissed, dragging the hand from his hair down the side of his face. 

“You both did what you could,” Ororo offered from the cockpit, her eyes still focused on the clouds ahead. “If you hadn’t done anything, she’d be dead by now. Those drones weren’t going to give up and she couldn’t shake them. She’s still here because of what happened, not despite it.” 

Logan couldn’t find the self-compassion to believe her. His eyes still trained on the scattering of feathers beneath where Jean suspended you from the ground. He wearily raised his head when the redhead called his name, her features soft with understanding. 

“Come here,” she gesture him over with a nod of her head, her hands still hovering over your body. Logan hesitated before rising from his seat, to stand by your side, across from Jean. “Place two fingers against the side of her neck,” she instructed, and his breath hitched, eyes darting from your unconscious face to Jean. “You won’t hurt her, just do it.”

Inhaling sharply, Logan softly brushed your hair back from your neck, gently placing two fingers against your pulse point. There he felt the slight, slow thump of your heart still beating. The realisation was enough to bring him to his knees, not caring about the sharp bark of pain as he struck the steel floor. He knew you were alive. Ororo had said as much, but to actually feel you, to feel the evidence of you’re still beating heart, broke through the dam of self-hatred.

His hand cautiously skirted up your jaw to rest against the side of your cheek as he pressed his forehead into your hair, his breath shuddering with the effort to keep himself from falling apart. He didn’t care that he could taste blood and dirt when he softly kissed the side of your head. Didn’t care that now everyone knew how he felt about you. His thumb lightly caressed your cheekbone, smoothing the grimy skin beneath your eye. 

You hadn’t left him yet. You were still here. 

“She’s alive, Logan. And we’re gonna keep her that way,” the conviction in Jean’s eyes was almost enough to settle his heart, but he knew the twisting worry wouldn’t loosen until he saw you open your eyes, your wounds healing, your wings bright again.

Everything ached. Everything. You felt as if you’d been hit by a bus, only for the bus to reverse back over your body, and hit you again. Your wrist barked with sharp pain when you tried to shift, your eyes still closed against the bright lights behind your lids. Something tight was almost cutting off the circulation to your left leg, and inhaling too deeply caused your chest to convulse in agony. The steady beep of a heart rate monitor helped you count roughly how many seconds you’d been conscious. You tried to think back to what could have happened, only to find the last thing you remembered was stooping in a low dive with three drones tailing you. There was an explosion at your back and–

You were falling. 

You’d fallen.

So much for not living up to your name…

With a hissing wince, you cracked your eyes open, only to instantly screw them shut at the sharp burn of bright lights unfamiliar to your retinas. How long have you been out? How did the mission go? Was everybody okay? Was Logan okay? 

With renewed determination, you attempted to open your eyes again, gritting your teeth as you blinked through the burn of adjustment. You knew this ceiling. You knew this table. From your first ever visit to the school, you’d been taken care of in this very room. You groaned slightly, exhaustion already taking its

 toll on your weary bones. Any attempt to move yourself resulted in agony spiking up your spine, white-hot pain cresting through your shoulder blades. Panic gripped your heart as you attempted to move your wings, only to find resistance. Turning your head with a sharp gasp, your eyes welled up with new tears seeing your torn, tattered feathers bound in bandages, held suspended by a sling from the ceiling. They were still attached, so there was that, you supposed, but it had been a long, long time since you’d seen them in this condition. 

You glanced down the bed to find your leg wrapped in a cast, held aloft from the mattress. Your wrist too seemed to be encased in white. You turned your neck to the other side with the intention of gauging the damage to your other wing, before your eyes widened at who you saw, head bowed asleep, in the chair next to your bed. 

Despite yourself and your situation, you couldn’t stop your lips from pulling into a fond, soft smile as Logan snored lightly. He looked truly exhausted, his hair mussed from how many times he’d run his hands through it. You didn’t think it was possible to adore him any more than you already did, but here you were, finding your heart growing three sizes at the sight. 

The doors opposite you slid open, Jean striding through with a clipboard and a thin pair of glasses perched on her nose. She stopped dead when she looked up from her notes, almost dropping her pen to the floor when she registered the fact you were awake. Silently, you placed a finger to your lips, before pointing over to the exhausted Logan in the chair. She smiled with a fond nod, 

Keeping her footsteps light, she crossed the medical bay to take a look at the readings on the screen, before crouching down next to your bed, her eyes focusing on the bandages across the bend of your wing. 

“He hasn’t slept since we got back. Storm had to force him to eat something yesterday. And he hasn’t stepped foot outside this room.” Jean explained, keeping her voice to a low whisper.

“How long’ve I been here…?” you asked, unable to raise your voice louder than a low whisper. Your throat scratched with every word, and you hadn’t realised just how thirsty you were until now. 

“A week and three days. I’m going to slowly reintroduce food into your stomach before taking out the IV, okay?” 

You barely heard the rest of her sentence. A week and three days? That was a little longer than you were expecting, to be honest. 

“Wait… Logan hasn’t slept in over a week?” You managed to rasp a little louder, your chest lurching with concern. That wasn’t healthy for anyone, even someone who could regenerate as fast as he could. No wonder he was utterly spent. 

And it was as if your voice were like an alarm clock. One moment your hushed tones were accompanied by the soft snores of the man in the chair, the next his eyes shot open, your whispered name the first words on his lips. 

Turning your head back to him, your breath caught in your throat. There was a hurricane of emotions swirling in his hazel eyes. Relief, guilt, fear, joy, remorse. A cocktail of feelings clouded his eyes and you wished you had the energy to cup the side of his face and reassure him you were alright. 

Logan’s exhausted haze cleared instantly upon hearing your voice, seeing your eyes open for the first time since he watched you plummet to the ground, and it took a moment for him to realise he wasn’t dreaming. Because he had dreams of this. In the rare moments he physically couldn’t keep his eyes open, his mind would either take him back to your fall or fabricate the moment you woke up. But wherever his dreams took him, he would always wake up with the tight ache of guilt constricting his chest. His waking moments he would spend thinking about what he would say to you if you woke up, planning out a meticulously crafted apology, but everything he wanted to say instantly flew out the window upon actually seeing you awake. 

“Hi…” you whispered, voice still raspy from disuse. And it was your weary, worn smile that tore at the chains around his soul. He couldn’t respond, as if he were the one who’d been lying unconscious for the last two weeks. 

Jean, sensing the tension in the room, stood from her crouched position by your wing, clearing her throat a little before tucking the clipboard flat against the crook of her elbow. 

“I’ll be back in a bit to check up on you and bring you some food.” She murmured, but you barely acknowledged her exit, too fixated on Logan’s expression of disbelief. 

The doors closed as Jean took her leave, blanketing the two of you in a charged silence, the both of you waiting for the other to talk first. 

“Logan I–”

“I’m so sorry, it–”

So naturally, of course, you both spoke at the same time, before falling into another equally uncomfortable silence, once again stuck in the purgatory of waiting for the other. You held your tongue this time, nodding to him with the smallest movement of your head. 

“You’re okay…” he breathed, almost to himself, as if having to remind himself again that this wasn’t in fact a dream. You were awake. You were talking. You weren’t lying lifeless with only the steady beeping of medical equipment to keep him company. Your eyes were open, looking at him with something he was struggling to discern through his addled mind. 

“I’m okay,” you responded softly, watching his features morph from self-hatred to pure relief. He shifted in his seat, head hanging low between his shoulders as he took a shaky breath, and you could see the slight shudder of his shoulders.

“I–” he started, before cutting himself off with a sharp inhale, clamping his teeth together as he struggled to raise his head again. “I thought I lost you.”

Whilst it was nothing but the softest admission, you felt spiderwebs crack through your heart, wanting nothing more than to reach for him, if only your bones didn’t feel like lead. He continued to keep his head low, his hands wringing together between his knees. “It was ’my fault. I didn’t know what to do. You couldn’t shake em and they were closin’ in and Scott wasn’t fuckin’ listenin’ an’–”

“Logan,” you interrupted as loud as you could, your throat tearing at the sudden strain on your voice, causing you to wince slightly. Your hiss of discomfort finally prompted him to raise his head, half standing from his seat to instantly be by your side should you need anything. “I’m okay. Or, I will be. My wings’ve seen worse, and my body will heal with time. I’m okay.”

He searched your face for any sign of deception, any indication that you were just saying this to spare his feelings, or stop him from spiralling into the well of self-hatred once again. He knew it wasn’t the time to ask, but his mind subconsciously filed away that nugget of your past for a later conversation, too focused on the fact his search came up short of anything he was looking for. 

“You’re okay…” he repeated, settling back into the chair by your bed. His eyes fell to your twitching hand, and with a gentleness only reserved for you, his fingers intertwined with yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips. “You’re okay.”

Your heart skipped a beat or several, and you were mildly concerned about setting off the heart rate monitor your abdomen was connected to. You don’t think you’d ever had this many wires connected to your body in your life, not even when Charles first found you. Nobody knows what had happened that day apart from him, and you refused to speak of it. 

“What do you remember?” Logan asked, pressing the back of your hand against the scruff of his cheek, as if desperate to feel you. Your brows furrowed for a moment, your quick trip down trauma lane before you opened your eyes yielding nothing of much use.

“I remember the drones and the targeting dots. I remember one… fired, I think, and missed,” you struggled, screwing your eyes shut in a vain attempt to jog your own memory.  “Uh– then there were two more? One missed and the other exploded before it hit me, but I was caught up in the blast radius. I remember falling and I remember the pain, but that’s about it…” You opened your eyes to find Logan’s expression have shifted once again back to remorse. He really thought it was his fault… didn’t he? “I couldn’t get them off me, Lo’.” You offered quietly.

“I know.”

“I wouldn’t be here if Scott hadn’t fired.”

“I… I know.”

“Logan, you saved my life.”

He placed your hand back on the bed, and you instantly missed the warmth of his palm. “I almost got you killed. I almost lost you. We could have worked somethin’ else out. Storm could’ve–”

“And what if she couldn’t?” You prompted gently, your brows creasing with empathy as you watched him try to wade through the implications of your question. 

“That’s not– I almost–”

“Almost, Logan. Almost. But you didn’t. I’m here. So please stop acting like I’m dead because I might start believing you.” You tried to sound as stern as you could whilst being physically and emotionally drained, and whilst it may have sounded a little weak, Logan knew what you were trying to do. 

He ran a hand through his messy hair which was in desperate need of a wash. Although so were you, you could only imagine. “I didn’t want our last conversation to be an argument.” He murmured, and you sighed as heavily as you could whilst not being able to inhale very deeply. 

“So melodramatic,” you joked with a half-smile, and it took a moment of his eyes scanning your face before his shoulders slumped, huffing a singular laugh through crooked lips. 

“Maybe a little…” he looked up at you through lidded eyes. “Fear doesn’t come naturally t’me. But I don’t think I’ve been more scared than when I was watchin’ you fall, knowin’ I could do nothin’.” 

You finally mustered the strength to reach for him, and he clasped your outstretched hand between both of his like a prayer. You considered for a moment what you would have done had your roles been swapped. If you were so helpless to save him from almost certain death. If you were forced to watch in nearly slow motion as the object of your heart was being ripped away from you and you were powerless against it. Because this was something more than a crush, more than admiration. You loved him. It wasn’t a sudden lightbulb moment, but rather a slow realisation of admission. You loved him. Irrevocably. Possibly irresponsibly. But certainly undeniably. 

“You don’t have to be scared anymore. I’m not dead. I’m not going to die. It’s gonna take time, but I’m okay. And I’m going to be okay.” You implored, and you could almost watch the cogs turning in his head, working on believing you and realising the truth of the situation. 

You. Were. Alive.

He nodded silently, finally accepting what everyone had been trying to tell him for almost a week and a half now. His thumb grazed the tendons of your wrist, the delicate caress sending shivers down your scarred spine. 

“How’re you feeling?” He asked though he couldn’t help thinking it was the most stupid question in the world. 

“Like I just fell over two hundred feet after being blown up.” You responded dryly. Ask obvious questions, get obvious answers. 

Obviously. 

“That checks out.”

“Thank you, Doctor Wolverine.”

How you’d managed to almost die and yet maintain your humour was a mystery to Logan, but it simply added to all the reasons he was completely taken with you. You were easily one of the strongest people he knew, in spite of your own self-consciousness. The way you felt about your wings had already proven that. They were the greatest source of your diffidence, and yet you often said how incomplete you would feel without them. He saw how you battled, every day, between loving and hating them. Not many people did, but he did. 

Perhaps that was because, to him, you were the focal point of every conversation. The spotlight in the room. The brightest star in the sky. Not only did he see you, but he saw you. 

That was when he remembered your words from earlier. ‘My wings’ve seen worse…’   

“What did you mean?”

“When?”

“When you said your wings have been worse. What did you mean?” 

Logan knew he’d struck a nerve when your wry humour dissolved from your face, and he watched you withdraw back into your own mind, another silence creating a barrier between you. It was another mental battle. He could see it. And he could only hazard a guess that you were struggling between opening yourself up to whatever traumas you’d experienced in the past, or staying closed and comfortable. 

“This world is cruel and cold to people like us…” your voice was barely audible, and despite his enhanced hearing, Logan found himself shifting closer, drawn in by your siren’s whisper. “I was always jealous of people who could hide their mutation. Or mutations that didn’t take on a physical appearance, anyway. Because hiding something like phasing or shapeshifting is easy. Hiding a pair of giant fucking wings? Get’s a little harder when not everyone around you is very accepting…” you were being vague on purpose. Taking yourself back to the day Charles found you was never easy, and it was this exact reason why you kept this to yourself. Only he knew what happened, and Jean was the only other one who’d seen your condition. 

Logan fought the urge to run his fingers through your feathers, slightly worried it would hurt you more than it would soothe you, since most of your secondary feathers had been burned away or torn off, and the exposed ligaments had been covered in bandages. You took a breath before you continued. “The neighbourhood where I lived wasn’t exactly high-end, and less than welcoming to mutants. I used to listen to a lot of music when I left my apartment, it helped to drown out the insults and hatred but uh, it also prevented me from hearing anyone following me.

“It was stupid. I was tired and forgot to lock my fucking door before I fell asleep that night. Such an idiot. And I paid the price. I can’t really remember exactly when it happened, and it’s all sort of a blur to be honest. I never saw their faces either, and I only knew they were there when they shoved a gag between my teeth and held me down, jeering about me being a disgusting mutant, the usual bullshit…” you trailed off, your words sticking to your throat like molasses as you recounted possibly the most traumatic moment of your life. Narrowly holding the top spot after recent events. “They uh, tried to sever them. My wings. Used a carving knife or a paring knife, hell it could have been a butter knife for all I knew. But it hurt. And I couldn’t fight them off. I probably still have the scars. They were barely attached by the time they were startled by something and took off.”

Logan placed his hand against your cheek, gently smoothing away the stray tear sliding down the side of your face with the pad of his thumb. 

“That’s why you don’t sleep on your front?”

“That’s why I don’t sleep on my front,” You affirmed with a timid nod, and Logan felt his heart clench painfully. He always wondered where your intense passion for making the world a safer place came from. “At least,” you continued quietly. “Until you.”

His eyes widened a fraction, and it wasn’t hard to piece together what you meant. The night, two days before the mission. That was the first time you’d slept on your front since Charles and Jean found you all those years ago. That was why you mentioned it. That was why you were so adamant about it. 

Your vulnerability was taken advantage of and used to further the cycle of hatred and violence. 

“Sweetheart…” 

You couldn’t bear to hear the slight break in his voice, the horrified empathy creasing his brows. “So yeah. That’s what I meant. When I said they’ve been through worse. So actually, this really isn’t all that bad. They’ll recover. They did last time. Might be a while before I can fly again but I think I’m okay with that for a while, not sure I want to–” your rambling was cut short by the sudden decrease of proximity between the two of you. Was he always this close? Or had he shifted? Had you simply not noticed? Too lost in your second trip down trauma lane in the space of twenty minutes? You could feel his steady breaths fanning your cheeks.

“You’re safe. With me. An’ nothin’ like that will ever happen again. ‘M gonna look after you, angel. Promise.” His eyes flickered from your gaze, down to your lips, and back up in a silent request, and your body answered for you. Your eyes fluttered closed, heart igniting at the first graze of his soft lips against yours, the pain in your back forgotten as your skin prickled with shivers. 

The moment he felt you lean up into him as much as you could, Logan gasped through his nose, his fingers skirting up the side of your neck, pausing to feel your pulse before continuing to brace his palm against your jaw. He wanted to feel you, in any way he could and in any way you would let him, your lips dancing with his languidly. And through the salves and disinfectant, through the blood and the grease, the smoke clinging to your hair, he could just smell you. Amber and wood oak swirled through his senses, and he didn’t think it fair that you smelled like a fucking autumnal forest. 

You tried to push yourself up further toward him, a fresh wave of yearning hitting you like a fall from over two hundred feet, but your ribs barked in sharp protest, and you flinched back with a harsh hiss, your features scrunching in pain.

“Easy there, angel. ‘M not goin’ anywhere.” He breathed, and whilst you could detect genuine concern in his tone, there was also a hint of smug satisfaction.

“Sorry… got kinda carried away.” You clamped your lips together at his soft chuckle, finding immeasurable comfort in the way his thumb smoothed along your under-eye.”

“Been wantin’ to do that for a while…” He murmured against your lips, and you drew back as far as you could without jostling your back too much.

“Really? How long?”

“Round a year or so.”

You blanched. “A year!?”

“Give or take a few months,” he shrugged, unable to tame the delicious grin pulling at his lips. 

“And you didn’t think to do anything?” You asked incredulously, eyes flicking between his, unable to decide just where they wanted to settle. 

“Inappropriate in the workplace.” He shrugged nonchalantly, and your eyes widened further. 

“We live under the same roof! This isn’t just a workplace.”

“Potato pot-ah-to.”

“No! Potato potato. It’s the same thing!”

He raised a sly brow. “Didn’t see ya pull back, angel. How long’ve you wanted this then?”

You clamped your lips shut, your face a picture of false irritation as he turned your own accusations back onto you, a triumphant glint dancing in his eye. “Thought s’much.”

A huff brushed his chin, though you couldn’t tame your guilty smile for long. Yes, he was absolutely right. You’d wanted to do that for far longer than you cared to admit. And the phrase ‘good things come to those who wait’ couldn’t ring more true. Though you couldn’t help thinking they should change the phrase slightly. 

‘Good things come to those who nearly die’. Yeah, that sounded more accurate. 

Your head lulled against his hand, a tugging wave of exhaustion pulling at your mind, your eyes feeling heavy with sleep. It was strange. Usually, you found it so difficult to find rest, tossing and turning until you simply couldn’t take it anymore. But not in his presence. Not when Logan was with you. 

He hummed a soft, fond smile of understanding, pulling the chair closer to the bed so he could still be near you. Pressing his lips to your forehead, you sighed in contentment, your hand holding his arm in a soft grip, silently asking him not to go anywhere. But you didn’t need to. He had no plans on leaving you anytime soon. 

“Sleep, angel. ‘M here. You’re safe.”

[zombvic]

enemies to lovers w kenan??🙏🙏

EYE TO EYE (kenan yildiz x reader)

summary : in which y/n and a certain turkish-german football player dont see eye to eye

face claim : no one exact

notes : thank you for the request !! hope its like you wanted :3

pairings : kenan yildiz x reader , childhood "enemies"

Ever since you can remember, Kenan has been a constant presence in your life. From childhood, you two never saw eye to eye. He was always around, whether it was a family dinner, a holiday gathering, or a neighborhood barbecue. The day your families became intertwined marked the start of what seemed like the ideal love story—the boy and girl next door. But reality was far from that.

As your families grew closer, it seemed like opposites attracted for them. Kenan was considered the typical jock: charismatic, popular, always surrounded by friends, and stereotypically, a football player. You, on the other hand, were far more reserved but possessed a strangely attractive confidence.

Kenan always challenged you. As the years passed, your dynamic didn't change. Your parents wanted you to be friends, but neither of you made the effort. Despite your parents' close friendship and frequent attempts to foster a bond between you, neither cared enough.

As you both grew older, the dynamics shifted subtly. The teasing evolved into playful banter, and the challenges turned into a mutual respect for each other's strengths. Yet, beneath the surface, there was an unspoken understanding that perhaps there was more to your relationship than met the eye.

"Y/n, the Yildiz family invited us for a get-together. Make sure you're on your best behavior," your mother said. You never really understood it; it wasn't you who made a huge deal out of your petty arguments. Hell, it wasn't even you who started the arguments. But it was never Kenan who got scolded; no, he was too perfect for that, wasn't he?

"And please, no more fighting. The last barbecue was more than enough." Ah, yes, the last barbecue—it ended with a small fire and a broken ankle. Obviously, it was my ankle; his football career would be in shambles if he broke his ankle during a friends and family event. But it wasn't my fault; he brought up the famous debate of who's the GOAT of Formula 1. I mean, you're literally German, what do you mean you don't think Schumi is the GOAT? The debate was supposed to be settled by a friendly game of pingpong, but it didn't end so friendly. What was I supposed to do, not dodge the racket he THREW at me? In my humble opinion, my actions were more than justified.

As my mom knocked on their front door, we were greeted by Engin, Kenan's father. Their house was cozy, shared between the parents and three boys. Every time we went over, the atmosphere was welcoming.

Kenan stood at the doorway, a sheepish grin on his face as he welcomed us inside. "Hey, Y/n," he greeted me, his tone surprisingly friendly despite our history.

"Hey," I replied, trying to mask the uneasy feeling his presence always seemed to stir in me. His eyes held some sort of amusement, as if he could sense my discomfort. I walked past to enter the familiar space of their kitchen connected to the backyard entrance.

Engin ushered us towards the backyard where the rest of the family and a few guests were gathered around the barbecue grill. Kenan's brothers were playing football in the yard, their laughter blending with the hum of conversation.

"Hope you're hungry," Engin chuckled, flipping a burger on the grill. "We've got plenty to go around."

Kenan slid next to me as we walked to the table, his voice low. "So, how's life?" he asked with genuine interest.

I hesitated for a moment, surprised by his sudden sincerity. "Um, it's been alright," I replied cautiously. "Busy with school and all."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I get that. Are you still into that video editing thing you were doing last summer?"

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise that he remembered. "Yeah, actually. I've gotten some offers from certain companies."

"That's really cool," he said with a nod, a hint of admiration in his voice.

We reached the table where the food was laid out, and Kenan held out a plate for me to take first. I couldn't help but notice the small gesture of consideration, a far cry from our usual banter or tense interactions.

"Thanks," I said quietly, feeling a flicker of warmth towards him that I hadn't expected. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Kenan than the cocky football player I always assumed him to be.

As the evening went on, the atmosphere at the barbecue shifted from tentative civility to a surprising ease between Kenan and Y/n. Engin's expert grilling skills were matched by his knack for storytelling, keeping everyone entertained with humorous anecdotes from his youth. The smell of grilled meat filled the air, mingling with laughter and the occasional cheer from the ongoing soccer match in the yard.

Kenan and Y/n found themselves drawn into a playful banter over who could stack their burger higher with toppings, each trying to outdo the other with combinations that ranged from classic to unconventional. It became a mini competition, with Kenan daring Y/n to try his "ultimate burger creation" while she countered with her own daring concoction of flavors.

"You're seriously putting pineapple and jalapenos together?" Kenan raised an eyebrow, eyeing Y/n's bold choice of toppings skeptically.

"Why not?" Y/n grinned mischievously, carefully balancing the overflowing tower of burger ingredients. "It's a winning combo."

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief as he expertly flipped another burger on the grill. "Alright, I'll admit, you've got guts. Let's see if it actually tastes as good as it looks."

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the backyard, Kenan's brothers approached with mischievous grins on their faces. "Hey, Kenan! Y/n! How about a friendly game of football?" they called out enthusiastically, kicking a soccer ball playfully towards them.

Kenan glanced at Y/n with a raised eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You guys sure you want to challenge us? You might regret it," he teased, his competitive spirit already rising to the surface.

Y/n chuckled, feeling a surprising rush of excitement at the prospect of playing alongside Kenan instead of against him for once. "Bring it on, boys," she replied confidently, flashing a grin that mirrored Kenan's.

With a nod from Kenan, they divided into teams—Kenan and Y/n against his brothers. The game started with playful banter and competitive energy, but something shifted as they played. Kenan's skill on the field was undeniable, his passes precise and his movements fluid. Y/n found herself naturally falling into sync with him, their teamwork surprisingly effortless.

They communicated with quick glances and nods, strategizing on the fly and covering each other's positions seamlessly. Kenan's brothers put up a good fight, but Kenan and Y/n's teamwork proved to be a formidable force.

"Nice pass!" Kenan called out as Y/n dribbled past Eren with skillful footwork, earning an approving nod from him.

"You're pretty good at football, Kenan. You should consider becoming a professional," Y/n joked with a playful smirk.

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head modestly. "I don't know about that. I'd probably miss all the glamour of backyard games like this."

"Get a room, lovebirds," His brothers teased from the sidelines, a mischievous grin on their face.

Y/n rolled her eyes, playfully nudging Kenan. "Ignore him. They're just jealous that we make a better team than they do."

The game continued with laughter, cheers, and occasional playful taunts exchanged between teams. As the friendly competition progressed, Kenan and you found themselves enjoying each other's company in a way they hadn't before. The usual tension and rivalry gave way to shared goals and a shared sense of accomplishment each time they scored or defended together.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky and the game wound down, The brothers conceded defeat with good humor, congratulating Kenan and Y/n on their victory.

"You guys were awesome!" Kenans brother exclaimed, grinning broadly as he bumped fists with Kenan and Y/n. "We'll have to challenge you again sometime."

Kenan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Anytime, little bro. Just be prepared to lose again," he teased playfully.

As they gathered their breath and laughter echoed in the cooling evening air, Y/n couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of camaraderie with Kenan. Working together had brought out a side of him she hadn't seen before—the focused, determined athlete who also knew how to have fun and appreciate teamwork.

"Thanks for the game, Y/n," Kenan said quietly, his tone sincere as he glanced at her with a soft smile.

You nodded, feeling a smile tug at your lips in response. "Likewise, Kenan. It was... refreshing," she admitted, surprising herself with the honesty of her words.

As they shared a meaningful smile, the evening continued with laughter, shared stories, and the hope for more moments like this—where they weren't basically on the verge of killing eachother, but actual friends, if not more.

im sorry this kinda doesnt have plot and sounds kinda npc but erm ! ignore that plz

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The More Loving One

Masterlist

Summary: Professor Reid finds himself falling for a student. 

A/N: This fic is based on this request. I changed a few things up, but I hope you like the finished product!

Long time, no see! It seems like forever since I got to sit down and just enjoy writing something. And enjoy this, I did. I approached this one a bit differently than I usually do, but I like how it turned out none the less. I hope you all enjoy my take on the Professor Reid arc. The first poem I use in this fic is titled The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, and the second is from a collection of Perry poetry.

Also, I recently hit 2k followers, which is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t even begin to explain how thankful I am for each and every one of you. This fic is my love letter to you. Thank you all so much. 

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: a few swear words maybe?, teacher x student relationship, age gap, exhibitionism (sorta?), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4k

           For as long as Spencer can remember, he’s always had a predilection for the finer things in life.

           Spencer attributes the origin of his preferences to his upbringing. In his childhood, before his mother’s disease got the better of her, she exposed him to all sorts of literature. While he ventured to read all types of writings, he’d always been partial to tales of extravagance. A young Spencer Reid sought refuge in the profligacy of it all, as it was so starkly different from his own reality. Forced to bear the burden of household and a sick mother from an early age, Spencer’s own life left little room for reckless indulgence.

           Now, as a single adult male, Spencer makes it a point to give himself up to the finer things as often as he can. Spencer isn’t a rich man, nor is he careless with what hard-earned money he does have. He simply likes to treat himself to the occasional five-star meal, and even more frequently, posh clothing and rare books. Walls lined with hundreds of antiquarian novels and a closet full of Comme Des Garçon cardigans are where the indulgence ends, however, and until recently Spencer was content with this.

           But when she strolls into his life on the very first day of his teaching career, Spencer knows that his small luxuries will no longer be enough to keep him satisfied. The part of him that longs to have only the very best roars to life as he takes in every perfect inch of her. She stands before him, the embodiment of divinity and grace, looking like every fantasy he only dares to conjure up in the late hours of the night. A litany of cliches from every piece of romantic literature he’s ever read spring to the forefront of his mind in the instant that her eyes met his, but there is nothing stereotypical about the way her gaze banishes the air from his lungs. It is as jarring as it is intoxicating. He never wants to look away.

           Unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same. With a light flush of her cheeks, she turns away from him, and in an equally unfortunate turn of events, she proceeds to shuffle down the aisle and into the second row of seats to the right of the podium. The realization that washes over him feels like ice water in his veins.

           She’s a student. Worse even – she’s his student.

           Spencer wrenches his gaze from her as if he’s been burned, and the fiery shame of his embarrassment makes him tug at his collar. As he struggles to stave away the lingering heat in his chest and even more embarrassingly, the tightness in his trousers, Spencer chastises himself. His own carnal urges often go ignored, a fact that is glaringly obvious as he cowers behind his podium in an attempt to hide his arousal. He feels more than a little bit pathetic. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man gets hard just from gazing upon a beautiful young woman.

           When Spencer pulls himself together enough to start his lecture, he positively forbids himself to look her way. It is hard to fight the urge, but every time he catches his eyes wandering to her, he reminds himself that she is an indulgence he simply cannot partake in. No matter how badly he wants to.

--

           It doesn’t take long for her to notice him noticing her.

           In the early days of the semester, she manages to convince herself that the stolen glances are but a figment of her overactive imagination. That, or an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking. But as the semester stretches on and the professor’s eyes linger more and more, wishful thinking gives way to a startling realization that she isn’t alone in her attraction. Professor Reid is, to her complete and utter astonishment, just as taken with her as she is with him.

           This is all but confirmed when a slight brushing of the hands during an exchange of papers leaves them both with flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. Both of their heads snap up, two sets of eyes meeting in a prolonged stare that results in an understanding of sorts. It’s mutual, this thing blossoming between them. She can see her own hopes reflected in two velvet pools of brown – can see the longing, the desire that burns within them. Her heart soars, as she imagines his does, and she accepts the papers with a smile.

           She also imagines that, if he could, he would tell her to wait for him. He would tell her that, for now, their relationship must stay strictly professional.

           This doesn’t stop them from sating their cravings in other ways.

           She makes it a point to stop by during office hours at least twice a week. Her visits always fall under the guise of her studies, but within minutes their hushed conversations stray from the professional and towards a more personal nature. She learns of Spencer’s mother and her condition, of his unusual job and his coworkers that were more like family. In return, she tells him about her upbringing in southern California, as well as her dreams of becoming a criminal psychologist. They never go as far as to discuss what will happen when the semester comes to a close. It is an unspoken agreement that the end of the semester will find them in each other’s arms. All they have to do is wait.

           Spencer can’t voice his affections with words, but he more than makes up for this with his actions. Without fail, every Monday following the very first clandestine brushing of hands, lavish bouquets of flowers arrive at her workplace. Each bouquet is always paired with a notecard inscribed with a brief explanation of the meaning behind that week’s flower of choice. Cherry blossoms to pay homage to her beauty, plumeria to symbolize their new beginning, agrimony to convey his thankfulness that she is willing to wait for him.

           Her favorite bouquet arrives four weeks before the end of the semester. As she steps through the doors of the bakery, a vase full of nine red roses sits atop the counter. The sight of them nearly takes her breath away. She pauses for a moment and runs her fingertips across the velveteen petals before plucking the notecard from its place.

           This week, Spencer chooses to forgo the explanation in favor of a messily scrawled poem;

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

that, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

we have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn 

with a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me. 

           That evening, Spencer receives his first bouquet from her. On his desk sits an arrangement of pale pink ambrosia.

           The meaning isn’t lost on him, but if it were, the note that sits next to the vase makes her intentions clear.

We never had to force love.

We were drowning in it from the moment we met.

--

           Spencer is horribly frustrated.

           A mere twenty feet away from where he stands, the notoriously garish and wholly unprofessional PhD program director is gesticulating wildly to the young woman that stands trapped between him and the hors d’oeuvre table. To find Professor Van Wesep in such a position is not uncommon, due to his penchant for trying to charm (terrorize) the prospective female doctoral candidates. The man is practically a walking harassment complaint waiting to happen. Spencer would abhor Van Wesep even if he weren’t the only thing standing in the way of him and his lover.

           At long last, the semester has drawn to a close. The lonely nights spent longing to hold her in his arms are a thing of the past. By the time the sun rises again, Spencer will no longer have to wonder what her body will feel like pressed against his. He’ll be thoroughly acquainted with every inch of her, and she with him. The thought sends a thrilled chill down his spine.

           The torturous foreplay they’ve been engaging in for the last four months would have surely broken a lesser man. Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted on more than one occasion to have her during one of her frequent visits to his office. Some days, when her visits came later in the evenings, just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, her eyes would glisten in such a way that told Spencer her thoughts were none dissimilar to his own. That glimmer of lust had him holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth.

           And here they were, on the last evening of the semester. Final grades had been submitted and were released hours prior. Spencer would have been content to skip this event altogether, in favor of more… recreational activities, but his lover insisted on attending.

           Initially, Spencer assumed her insistence lay in her desire to mingle with her future peers and mentors. Her true intentions come to light when she breezes into the room clad in a pair of sleek, designer pumps. Her lips, painted fire engine red, curl up into a playful smile at the sight of a slack-jawed Spencer Reid. The devious glint in her eye twinkles sinfully in the light.

           Tonight isn’t a social call at all. Tonight, she wants to play with him.

           And play she has.

           From the second she arrives all eyes are fixating on her celestial beauty. Peers and mentors alike trip over themselves in their haste to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment. She works the room flawlessly, leaving a trail of smitten men of all ages in her wake.

           The most smitten is Spencer himself, because he’s the lone recipient of countless heated glances, as well as more than a few knowing smirks. She well aware of what she’s doing to him, and she takes pleasure in watching him squirm.

          Spencer intervenes when Van Wesep makes the ill-advised decision to reach a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He barely has the time to withdraw his hand before Spencer is upon them.

          “I apologize for the interruption,” Spencer casts a faux apologetic glance at his colleague, before settling his gaze on his target. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you for a moment?”

           She looks positively gleeful. Perhaps Spencer should have intervened hours ago.

           “Absolutely, Professor Reid.”

           The honorific sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He definitely should have stolen her away earlier.

           The two of them say their goodbyes to a confused Professor Van Wesep, whose imploring eyes follow them as they hurriedly slip from the party and down the hallway.

--

           “Where are we going?”

           Spencer leads her down a long corridor, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positions her between himself and the cold wooden door of an unoccupied office. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant thrum of the music and the eager pants falling from his lover’s lips.

           Spencer pulls her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other finding purchase on her waist. He worries for a moment that he’s being too rough with her, that he should have taken a more careful approach to their first kiss, but she assuages those worries when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hand reaches between them and clutches his tie, then she’s pulling him closer and whining wantonly against his lips. Spencer takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and he finds himself letting out a low groan when he tastes a hint of strawberry.

           Spencer pulls away to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

           “Oh, I think I do, Professor,” she laughs, breathless. “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

           Spencer jolts forward when her hand slides down to cup him over his trousers.

           “Could’ve done that a lot earlier if you hadn’t insisted on teasing me for the entire night,” Spencer growls through gritted teeth. He’s more than a little proud of his ability to string together a sentence with her hand working him over with slow, steady strokes.

           He trails a line of kisses across the underside of her jaw, before taking her earlobe and nipping it lightly with his canine. Spencer’s actions are rewarded with a full body shudder. He dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat and her hands ball into fists against his dress shirt.

           “Spencer, please.”

           Spencer hums and pulls back to look at her. The hand in her hair lowers, and he trails a thumb across where her nipples are hard against the fabric of her dress.

           “Yes, my love?”

           Her eyes flutter against the weight of her arousal, and Spencer twitches in his pants. The sight of her with her hair disheveled and her lipstick smeared on account of him is a heavenly thing. He doesn’t know how he ever deprived himself of such a splendor.

           “I want you. Right now.” She punctuates her words by pulling him down into a frenzied kiss. One of her hands tangles itself in the hair at the nape of his neck while the other busies with tugging his shirt out of his pants.

           “Right now?” Spencer taunts, mouth against mouth. His hand trails down the side of her breast, caressing her rib cage and her hip before stopping at her upper thigh. Spencer’s fingertips toy with the tops of her lace thigh highs. “But anyone could walk by and see us.”

           “I don’t care,” she argues, fumbling clumsily as she struggles to undo his belt buckle.

           Spencer’s wandering hand dips below the hem of her dress to explore the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh. She’s soft here, too, he thinks to himself as his hand travels up, up, up. He stops just short of where she wants him most and she lets out a despairing cry.

           “You wouldn’t mind someone walking by and seeing you with your pretty legs spread wide for your professor?”

           Spencer brings life to his words by lifting her leg up, hitching her thigh around his hip and pressing into her. The silk fabric of her dress rustles as he pushes it up and out of the way.

           A breathy moan tumbles from her lips as he rocks against her, dragging his arousal up and down the front of her lace panties. The friction is maddening in that it provides only the smallest bit of relief. It’s not enough for Spencer, and judging by the way she desperately pushes down the fabric of his pants, it’s not enough for his partner, either.

           “Need to get these off now,” she murmurs against Spencer’s mouth. An eager hand tugs at the elastic band of his underwear.

           Spencer places his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Not so fast, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first.”

           Her fingers clamp down on Spencer’s wrist, guiding him to the sodden lace between her thighs.

           “Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” she whimpers as Spencer’s fingers take appraisal of the drenched cloth. “In fact, I think four months of foreplay is sufficient enough. Wouldn’t you say?”

           “Maybe so,” Spencer muses, voice muffled as he sucks at the skin of her neck. “But I’m not willing to chance hurting you our first time together. You’re entirely too precious to me.”

           Spencer captures her lips in a kiss so sweet it has her sighing into his mouth. When he pulls away, he fixes her with a smile.

           “You’re not particularly fond of these panties, are you?”

           Her eyebrows pull together. “No, why?”

           Spencer pulls at the flimsy fabric harshly and it gives way under the force of it. He reaches back to stuff the thong in his back pocket.

           “That’s why.”

           Spencer’s lips come down against hers at the same time his middle and index fingers drag across her slickness. His foresight pays off when his mouth muffles the sound of her cries. As confident he is that they won’t be found, a cry like that would certainly have drawn unwanted attention.

           The swipe of his thumb across her crest paired with the gentle pressure of his fingers dipping into her heat is enough to make her legs buckle. Had it not been for Spencer pressing her against the wall, she surely would have fallen to the ground in a trembling heap.

           “I could get lost in you for hours,” Spencer groans, curling his fingers inside her in such a way that makes her clutch desperately to his shirt.

           “Spencer, oh my God,” she keens. “I need you, please.”

           “You have me, my love,” Spencer whispers the promise against her parted lips. “You’ve had me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

           Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers until the telltale tightening of her heat warns him of her impending climax. He has to bite down on his lower lip to regain his own composure. The feeling of her tight and wet around his fingers is almost too good.

           “Spencer, I’m getting close,” she whimpers.

           Spencer continues until she’s on the cusp of tumbling over the edge, until one more pass of his fingers against her crest would surely seal the deal, and then he’s removing his hand and taking a step back.

           “Spencer, what the fu-,” she pauses when he promptly shoves his pants and underwear just enough to free himself from their painful confines. “Oh.”

           A dazed smile makes its way to her face as Spencer presses himself against her once more. He sweeps her up into a kiss comprised of pure, unadulterated desire, before pulling away and smirking deviously at her.

           “Jump.”

           It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to make sense of the request, but as soon as it does, she complies without question.

           Spencer’s hands grip her thighs firmly and in one swift thrust he sheaths himself into her fully – an indulgence so grand that all others dull in comparison. Now that he’s had the finest, felt it wrapped around him like warm velvet, he can’t imagine a world in which he must live without it.

           “Spencer!”

           Spencer swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound than her crying out his name as their bodies come together for the first time. It’s synonymous with a siren call, he thinks, because in that moment she could lure him to certain death and he knows he would go with a smile.

           His lips seek purchase on the exposed skin of her chest as he buries himself in her paradise again and again. The sharp sting of her heels digging into his back with every thrust brings out a sort of primal urge in him, spurring him to rut up into her like a man possessed.

           “You feel perfect,” Spencer groans out against the flushed skin of her neck. He presses a soft kiss to where her pulse bounds just beneath the skin before pulling away and locking eyes with her. “When I’m old and gray and can remember nothing else, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember how it felt to kiss you for the first time – how it felt to touch you. How it felt to worship you and make love to your body.”

           Spencer’s voices catches, thick and overwhelmed with emotion.

           “I’ll remember how it feels to love you.”

           Her breath catches in her throat and sharp pang of panic burns hot in his chest. Had he misinterpreted her affections? Did she not burn for him in the same way? Perhaps the ambrosia meant nothing. Spencer’s movements falter, and for several torturous seconds he’s nearly paralyzed with fear.

            She silences those fears with a kiss.

           “Oh, Spencer,” she sighs as she presses her forehead against his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever comprehend.”

           Spencer resumes moving in and out of her, but the frenzied feeling from before is replaced with something else now. Something softer, but no less passionate.

           “Yeah?” he inquires, searching her eyes for any trace of insincerity. He finds none, and it’s a relief. Any hint of falseness in her claim would surely lead to a heartbreak he could never recover from.

           “Yes.” The word trails off into a moan. “I love you, Spencer Reid. I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop.”

           Spencer’s heart jolts and he whines pathetically against her mouth. “I’m counting on that.”

           “I’m close, Spencer,” she pants, her breath hitting his face in warm puffs. “Don’t think I can last much longer.”

           “Me, too.” Spencer nudges her nose with his own. “Reach between us and touch yourself, my love. I want us to cum together. Can you do that for me?”

           She nods, and the hand that clung to his right shoulder dips in between them to rub tight circles against her crest. Spencer doubles his efforts when he sees her eyelids flutter closed, and the resulting tightening of her core leaves him panting hard.

           “Spencer, I-” her breath catches in her throat as Spencer delivers a particularly strong thrust. Her head falls against his shoulder, her soft moans of his name like heaven to his ears.

           “Cum with me, baby,” Spencer grunts out desperately. He needs it like he needs air to breath and water to drink. And once he has it, he knows he’ll need it again and again.

           She gives it to him with a muffled cry of his name and he’s instantly swept away, drowning in the blissful way her body sings for him. His body follows her lead, shattering completely under her fingertips.

           While he’s been through similar acts with previous partners, those instances always felt impersonal and clinical. The caresses and whispered words were all a means to an end, an end that usually left him feeling lonelier and emptier than when he started. But right now, as he feels the beat of her heart pressed against his own, he swears he couldn’t feel fuller - full of adoration, full of affection, full of love. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and everything Spencer didn’t know he was looking for.

           A raucous round of applause erupts from the direction of the party, startling the two of them. Spencer feels her laugh against his neck.

           “It’s almost as if they were applauding us for a job well done.”

           Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

           “As they should. That was sensational.”

           Spencer carefully pulls out and lowers her to the floor. He wastes no time in tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a reverent kiss. Spencer hopes his lips convey his gratitude.

           The two of them pull apart and set to making themselves presentable. Their efforts prove to be in vain when Spencer points out a dark purple love bite nestled into the crook of her neck. She counters this by taking note of the smudge of red lipstick on his collar.

           “What an adulterous pair we make, Professor.”

           Spencer rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not your professor anymore.” He bends down and places a kiss to her lips before taking her hand in his.

           “I suppose you’re not,” she muses as they meander down the corridor. “Whatever shall we do now?”

           As the two of them step out of the dark hallway and reenter the party, Spencer smiles to himself. Visions of wedding rings flit through his mind. Spencer supposes he’ll have to take a break from the posh clothing and rare books in favor of saving his money. He’ll buy only the finest ring for his future wife, after all.

           “I have a few ideas.”

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taglist: @90spumkin @moon-light-jukebox​ @whxt-to-write @calm-and-doctor @jessalyn-jpeg @pinkdiamond1016 @itsametaphorbriansblog @eldahae @itsmytimetoodream @kasaikawa @shadyladyperfection

[merakiui]

Diluc, Kaeya, Xiao, and Childe Finding out That You’re Being Abused HCs

cw: mentions/descriptions of (physical and emotional) abuse, injuries, depressive mood/thoughts, implied violence **please proceed with caution and do not read if this is triggering! note - submissions are confusing for me, so I wrote it in this format. I hope that was okay! 

@tuestika said: Hi! Sorry that I send my request through submission, tumblr has sometimes eaten my asks either wholly or have omnomned whole ask xD Usually my requests sent through submissions arrive intact so…. I saw that you had done Scaramouche reacting finding out their s/o is being abused headcanons, may I request headcanons for Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao and Childe finding out their their s/o is being abused? Keep up good job! <3

🔥 Diluc 🔥

Diluc might not be the most vocal person in the world, but he’s definitely observant. He’s gotten rather skilled at picking apart your social cues because he’s spent a lot of time with you. 

So when you barge into his tavern one evening, looking absolutely disheveled and asking for one of the Knights, he’s feeling two emotions: confusion and irritation. 

For one, you shouldn’t even entrust your issue to those inadequate Knights. Nevertheless, you are his friend and he isn’t going to kick you out just because you mentioned them. 

He waves you over to the bar and is thoroughly shocked when you beg him to let you hide behind it. Then he notices your split lip and the fresh injuries on your face and forearms, and he wastes no time in getting to the point.

“Why were you out so late fighting hilichurls? I hope you haven’t led any here. We don’t need that sort of trouble right now.”

“Sorry. No, that’s not it. I just—you’re the only one...” You’re struggling to piece a coherent statement together, too busy looking over your shoulder to keep track of your thoughts. “I didn’t know where I could go. I mean, I thought of you and—“

“Please slow down. Start at the beginning.”

More concerned over your safety than professionalism, Diluc allows you to slip behind the bar counter, where you cower on the ground to avoid being seen. 

You gesture for him to come down to your height and he sighs, silently complying when he finds there aren’t any new customers to serve. Bending down to your level, he holds onto the countertop to keep his balance and then he locks eyes with you. 

“What exactly happened?”

You inhale a shuddering breath, wrapping your sore arms around yourself for comfort. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you recall the event. Your abuser had found you after you’d left to get some fresh air, they’d cornered you in a secluded alley, and—you can’t finish the rest of the story.

Diluc doesn’t expect you to continue. He nods as he lets the information sink in, already harboring a deep resentment for this despicable individual. 

“Wait here. I’ll close the tavern early. In the meantime, we should see to your injuries and then we’ll look for that person.”

“I really think we should tell the Knights...” you mumble, knowing he’ll disapprove. “They’re more suited to these types of cases.”

“The Knights are incompetent. The investigation will take days, if not weeks. What happens if your abuser knows they’ll be coming for them? They’ll try to escape and then there’ll be no telling where they’ve gone.”

“I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to—“

“I’ll take care of it.”

You try to object because it’s dangerous and you don’t want him to get injured on your behalf. But he’s insistent in his decision, claiming that if the Knights can’t help you no one can. And you really wouldn’t feel safe if your abuser was still roaming free, so you have no other choice but to allow him to carry out the investigation himself.

And Diluc can be quite clever at times. It won’t be hard to traverse the interior of Mondstadt at night, where his identity melts away into that of the sneaky Darknight Hero. 

He’s going to protect you no matter what. Your abuser won’t receive an ounce of sympathy from Diluc. All he feels is cold hatred when he catches them. Someone as precious as you does not deserve to be put through such torment, and he’ll see to it that your abuser pays a hefty price to make up for all of the damage they’ve caused.

🧊 Kaeya 🧊

Kaeya can’t understand why you’ve started isolating yourself from everyone. In the past, you were always such great friends with the Knights, always catching up to talk to one of them.

He’d spent a lot of time with you and has since gotten to know you through lighthearted conversations and gossip from the people of Mondstadt. 

For someone so appreciated and well-known, he can’t wrap his head around why you might want to suddenly disappear, hiding yourself away as if you didn’t exist. 

And then he happens to catch you in town one day while you’re out running some errands. It’s so like him to pop in with a few flirty lines, but the words stick in his throat when he notices the bandages stuck to your arms and legs. 

“That can’t be good,” he says as he approaches you, leaning ever so gracefully against a wooden support beam. “Why don’t we find Barbara? I’m sure she’ll have you patched up in no time, my dear friend.”

You don’t think you’re worth it so you shake your head, nervously hoping he’ll take the hint and go away. 

“I hope you’re not accepting those dangerous commissions again,” he adds, half teasing and half serious. You can’t tell whether he’s trying to sound chiding or not. 

“Please just...leave me be. I’m a little busy right now.” You try to leave the stall you’re at, walking stiffly to avoid limping in front of him. “I’m not feeling well, so if you’ll excuse me—“

Kaeya pushes off from the beam, standing in front of you with a posture that appears immovable. “By order of the Calvary Captain,” he’s saying, a playful glint in his eyes, “you aren’t allowed to move from that spot until you tell me what’s bothering you and why you’re covered head to toe in bandages.”

You can easily object to such an order, but you figure it’s better to answer instead of arguing over your physical condition. So you explain a modified version of the story, telling him that you simply got into a disagreement and it ended in bruises on both sides. 

Kaeya hears the tremble in your voice when you say it; you’re lying. His expression softens at once and he steps away, indicating that you’re free to leave. But you don’t; you’re looking at him with such a helpless, pleading look. It breaks his heart.

You break before him, lips quivering as you beg for his help. You’re so scared and alone, and you’re not sure how long you can suffer through this before it seriously hurts you. 

“This is the first time I’ve gotten out in weeks.” So that explains your sudden isolation. “Please... I don’t want to go back home anymore. I’ll do anything. Just don’t let them hurt me again.”

Kaeya’s absolutely stunned to hear the silent revelation in your words. You’re awkwardly reaching to undo one of the bandage wrappings to prove your point, but he stops you short. That’s all the proof he needs.

You’ll be brought back to the Knights of Favonius’ Headquarters to be tended to while he gathers a team to search for your abuser. Since you gave him a solid description, it shouldn’t be too hard to find them. 

And once they’re apprehended, Kaeya will subject them to a grueling interrogation. There will be no gentle punishment; it’s going to be as unforgiving as the abuse you had to suffer through. 

☁️ Xiao ☁️

You’ve never really been keen on physical touch and Xiao understands that completely. He usually avoids any sort of interaction to begin with, unless it’s absolutely necessary, so it’s not a surprise whenever you shy away from large crowds.

He has grown rather fond of you, which has lead to the two of you meeting at Wangshu Inn for some Almond Tofu and relaxed chit-chat.

During one of your many conversations, you bring up a few alarming statements. They’re just personal points you’d like to change, such as your weak fighting spirit or the way your joints brokenly click when you stretch. 

Xiao wonders why you’d want to change yourself. You’re not usually this doubtful of yourself. In the past, you would always play the role of his smiling friend, putting on a positive face even when he was in a disagreeable mood. 

Xiao is examining your movements as you awkwardly explain yourself and when your arms move he catches the sight of a rope burn etched into your wrist. 

“What happened?” He gestures to your sleeve, to which you react in a nervous manner, shyly pulling your sleeve down to hide it. Xiao frowns a bit. “Did you get into an accident?”

“No, of course not! I’m fine. It’s just a result of my clumsiness.”

It really doesn’t look like that to Xiao and when he truly looks at you again he finds that you appear abnormally tired and exhausted. He isn’t going to sugarcoat anything and he could be making a giant assumption, but he still asks.

“Is someone hurting you?”

Your eyes widen for a split second and Xiao catches that movement like a cat drawn to a laser pointer. He won’t force you to explain unless you feel comfortable doing so. The last thing he wants is upsetting you or pressuring you into something you don’t want to talk about.

Eventually, though, the story will come to light and he’ll hear all about the horrors you’ve gone through. That rope burn was just one of many punishments you’ve had to endure, and Xiao’s just about ready to snap. How dare someone lay their filthy hands upon you in such a violent way?

Xiao will calmly tell you to stay at Wangshu Inn or anywhere else in Liyue where you’ll be safe. He’ll watch over you while you take time to recuperate and heal. He’s going to make sure you’ll never have to go through something like that ever again.

Having Xiao by your side makes the healing process all the more comforting.

And when you fall asleep in a soft, warm bed, Xiao slips out into the night to search for your abuser. It won’t be a pretty sight once he gets his hands on the human trash who dared to hurt you.

💧 Childe 💧

He’s very perceptive when it comes to your health and overall well-being. After all, he’s got brothers and sisters to care for; perception is absolutely necessary in order to keep them happy and healthy.

So it doesn’t take long for him to realize your behavior is uncharacteristic. You’re jumpier than usual, always apologizing for the littlest of things, and you’ll look over your shoulder whenever you sense something.

It’s almost as if you expect someone to suddenly come at you, which isn’t all that odd. Childe has been known to keep you on your toes when he’s looking for a fight.

But on one particular day he manages to give you a spook when he comes up beside you, grinning and showing up in your peripheral so suddenly that it nearly gives you a heart attack. 

You’re so frightened as you back away, practically folding in on yourself in an effort to protect yourself from an imaginary blow. Childe pauses, that silly grin fading when he realizes you’re shaking.

“Hey, it wasn’t that scary. Come on, comrade!” He’s approaching you warily, not entirely sure why you’re acting the way you are. He’s always been spontaneous; you should be used to this by now.

But you refuse to let him come any closer, having to distance yourself so that you can ease your racing heart and hyperventilating lungs. Once you’ve calmed down, embarrassment floods through you at the fact that Childe just witnessed all of that. 

Childe will ask if you’re okay with him stepping closer and if you nod he’ll be on you like a hawk, pulling up your sleeves before you can stop him. 

For once, you catch an expression you normally don’t find on Childe: surprise. He’s genuinely shocked at what he sees: dark bruises and shallow lacerations from something sharp. 

Either you got these in your many sparring matches or there’s another factor at play here, and Childe is almost certain it’s the latter.  

His voice is gentle as he asks you to explain what’s going on and once you do he’s already set on finding the one who did this. He seems to forget all about his Fatui work, wanting to capture your abuser and give them a piece of his mind—and subject them to more than a few pieces of his strength, too. 

He’ll have you protected in no time, offering to take you to the best healer. You’ll be treated wonderfully and he’ll even lay off on your sparring matches for a while. 

In the meantime, once he gets his hands on your abuser, everything becomes fair game. After all, someone has to handle the brunt of his anger and pent-up bloodlust from the lack of a fight. And your abuser is the perfect match to pummel into the ground. Childe shows absolutely no mercy for them. 

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Absentee

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Y/N fell in love with Jason Todd, she didn’t realize the normalcy she lost would become such a problem in their relationship. And she didn’t know how much pain it would cause to hide her boyfriend’s secrets. 

Word Count: 4,600 – One Shot

A/N: This is probably a really personal story. And you all might hate it or not relate to it. But oh well...

Y/N had her music playing in her headphones just quietly enough so she could hear them announce when her plane was boarding.

Between corporate holidays and what was left of her vacation days for the year, she was able to go home for a week and a half.

Only, she was hoping that this year she wouldn’t be going home alone.

But when Jason got sucked into a case two weeks before their flight back to her hometown, she knew there was no way he’d be accompanying her.  

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just–“ Jason had tried to tell her when she realized they weren’t going to be spending the holidays together.

“You don’t have to apologize. There are more important things right now than meeting my crazy family,” Y/N laughed lightly. “But they’ll be bummed.”

Jason still looked so down guiltily. He knew that Y/N had been downplaying how excited she was for her family to meet him.

Yeah, Y/N was upset, but her family was even more upset. Being in a different part of the country and them never putting in the effort to visit her, they had yet to meet Jason. Even when the two of them had been dating for 10 months.

Y/N had met all of Jason’s brothers, along with Bruce and Alfred. It had all been against his will, his family strategically running into them or invading his apartment when they knew Y/N would be there. Jason acted annoyed by it, but Y/N knew he was happy for her to meet them and without him having to act like he cared.

But Jason had only ever waved on FaceTime to her family or sometimes answered calls from them when Y/N left her phone next to him and went to another room.

It wasn’t like Y/N needed her family’s approval. She knew what she wanted and what was best for her. Their opinions didn’t hold as much weight with her as they thought.

But Y/N also had never introduced her family to a boyfriend before. Things either fizzled out before then or the relationship was so casual that the thought of even mentioning a boy-toy’s name in passing to her family made her want to jump out a window.

———

“So Jason couldn’t get out of work last minute?” Y/N’s older sister, Kate, asked as they drove to her house after picking her up from arrivals.

And so it began.

“No,” Y/N answered. “His boss is sort of an asshole. He’s a workaholic and can’t fathom why anyone else would ever be anything different.”

The truth was that Jason didn’t really have a job. When it came to income, Jason was resourceful. He was still a hitman for hire. But once the killing part of that job stopped – which was long before Y/N ever met him – it didn’t rake in as much money. Most of his money was either stolen from criminals or he would work odd jobs here and there.

However, the lie Jason and Y/N had agreed on was that he was a mechanic. And Jason did know absolutely everything there was to know about cars and motorcycles. He’d even promised Y/N that if she ever decided she wanted him to drop the vigilante life, he would do just that and start his own mechanic shop. But Y/N knew better than to ever ask that of him.

“Cars don’t stop breaking – even around the holidays,” Y/N joked darkly.

“Mhmm,” her sister answered.

Y/N already knew what her family thought of her boyfriend’s “job”: it wasn’t good enough for them.

The only reason they let it slide was because they knew Bruce Wayne was his adoptive father. Therefore they interpreted Jason’s ‘lack of ambition’ as his personal rebellion against his privilege and upbringing.

“Mom said he sent flowers and a bottle of wine to the house today and apologized for not being able to make it,” Kate added.

Y/N quickly looked at her in surprise.

“So I’m guessing from your reaction that it wasn’t your idea,” Kate teased.

“No,” Y/N shook her head. “He didn’t even tell me he did that.”

That was a Bruce Wayne move for sure. It didn’t matter that Jason had a rocky relationship with him, the Wayne charm and manners were deceivingly contagious.

————

Later that night, when everyone was in bed and Y/N decided to finally unpack. And she was surprised to find two of Jason’s t-shirts hidden in her bag. They were her favorites of his, always stealing them. Mostly she wore them to lounge around the apartment or to wear to bed. But her favoritism was in no way hidden.

Jason must’ve snuck them in her bag while she wasn’t looking.

Y/N smiled as she grabbed one of the shirts and raised it to her nose. It still smelled like him.

It was enough to make her feel guilty for not having called him yet. She’d texted him that she landed, but other than that, she’d been pretty silent.

She grabbed her cell and dialed.

“Hey, you.”

He always answered her calls as if they made his day, even if she’d called him multiple times that day already. His reaction to her calls never failed to make Y/N smile.

“I didn’t really expect you to pick up,” Y/N admitted.

“Always got time for you,” he answered lightly.

But then she heard background noise: wind blowing, distant sirens, people shouting at each other nearby.

Jason was on patrol. Or maybe he was doing some recon. 

But Y/N knew not to ask. 

“I see some of your clothes made the trip,” Y/N commented through a smile. Jason could hear the smile in her voice. “Those t-shirts have a mind of their own…”

“And my mom thought the flowers and card were sweet,” she added.

“I might not have met her yet, but I know that’s not gonna be enough to win her over,” Jason answered darkly.

Y/N didn’t say anything, because they both knew he was right.

“Flight was fine?” Jason asked, changing the subject.

“Mhmm.”

“I miss you.”

Y/N shook her head and laughed. “No, you don’t. I’ve been gone for like 12 hours.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She rolled her eyes. “Always the romantic.”

More sirens could be heard. They sounded closer this time. “Are you being careful?” All playfulness had disappeared from her voice.

“Of course.”

Y/N sighed. “Jason, I’m serious. Please, be safe.”

“I know. I know. Don’t worry about me.”

“You know that’s not gonna happen, J.”

He ignored her comment. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

————————

To say Y/N’s time at home was rough…was an understatement.

If Y/N wasn’t being asked a million questions about Jason, she was being interrogated for why he wasn’t there. And if Jason wasn’t the subject of the conversation, people acted like she was single – some even talking about setting her up.

Y/N realized she preferred the former.

Every year, her family threw a giant party.

And for the past five years, Y/N had always been the only one that was single. All of her siblings, all of her cousins, all of their family friends, all of their neighbors…every single one of them had a significant other during those years. 

Everyone...except her. Now, this year, all of them had kids or were expecting.

It was exhausting. 

Sometimes Y/N felt like they were all robots programmed to do the exact same things at the exact same time –  no original thought to be had.

Y/N would be lying if she didn’t spend most of the party wishing Jason was at her side. He would make fun of awkward situations with her. And he would stick up for her when her family teased her a little too much.

The other thing Y/N wasn’t prepared for was unintentionally studying  her family’s boyfriends or husbands. She felt like she was watching everyone’s relationships through a different lens now that she herself had her own. And to put it as kindly as possible…she was not impressed.

Y/N noticed how none of the men offered to help in the kitchen, instead deciding to sit on the couch and watch football and scream at the television. Or how when her cousin handed her son to her husband, and he acted like he didn’t even know how to hold the one year old. And later, when his diaper needed to be changed, he handed him back to his wife as if he had no idea how to do it himself.

Yet her family was stuck on Jason not being able to visit or that he was a mechanic.

What did someone’s job matter if they treated her like she was their world and he the best thing to ever happen to her?

If Jason were here, he would be in the kitchen cooking. And if they had a kid, it would be a 50/50 job – not a burden only Y/N had to bare. He would try to get to know everyone because he would want to know the people who raised the woman he loved. He’d make sure to check in on Y/N every once in awhile, making sure she didn’t need anything. 

Thinking about it all made Y/N miss Jason even more.

Needing to get some air, she decided to go outside and let the winter chill refresh her. It had been getting too hot in the house.

Y/N pulled her phone out of her back pocket and tapped Jason’s name.

“Hey, you.”

“Hi,” she sighed.

Just hearing his voice made her feel a bit better and tension left her body.

“What’s wrong?” Jason quickly asked.

“Nothing. Just…wanted to check in.”

For a second, she was going to explain that she had the sudden realization that all the men connected to her family were trash. And witnessing it was making her miss him more. But she didn’t really want to waste her breath and she figured she’d just come off dramatic more than sincere.

“Are you at your apartment?” She asked quickly.

“Yeah, I’m gonna leave for patrol in a bit…”

Then Y/N’s mind suddenly thought, ‘Fuck it.’

“Jason?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“If you were here…” She began softly.

“Mhmm,” he encouraged.

“What would you be doing?”

Jason was a bit confused by the question for a second. But he slowly got what she was asking.

“Well,” he took in a shallow breath. “I would’ve stolen Alfred’s famous chocolate chip cookie recipe and whipped up those bad boys to bring over. And I’d pretend to care about football with your dad.”

That made Y/N laugh.

“I’d help your mom in the kitchen, even when she pretended not to want it.”

“Really laying it on thick, huh?”

But Y/N knew he was right. Jason was the cook between the two of them – and a good one, too. He also was a helper. He couldn’t sit back and watch someone do something while he did nothing. No matter how big or small.

“Shhh,” Jason reprimanded and then continued. “But most importantly, I’d try to get as many embarrassing stories about you as I possibly could.”

“Well, thank goodness you’re not here then,” she teased with a roll of her eyes.

Jason was quiet a second before he asked, “Wanna tell me what’s wrong now?”

“Nothing’s wrong. Just miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“All my family’s boyfriends and husbands are losers. And I guess I’m just now realizing it.”

“Ahh,” Jason noted.

Now he really knew why she’d asked her question.

“It’s snowing here,” he told her as he looked out the window. “It’s almost making Gotham look pretty.”

“Are you going to the manor for Christmas?”

“Probably not,” Jason answered.

“Jason,” she grumbled. “What are you going to do instead? Sit in your apartment alone?”

“I’m gonna patrol. Crime doesn’t take holidays, Y/N.”

“Cheesy,” she pointed out. “Please be with your family, Jason. I don’t want you to be alone. OK?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Y/N knew that was as good as it was going to get.

Then she felt something on her cheek and she looked up. “Hey, it just started snowing here, too…” She told him with her head tilted back.

“I love you,” he sighed.

“I love you, too. Be careful tonight, Jason.”

Y/N gave herself a few more moments outside before returning to the party.

When she walked back inside, she immediately heard her name. But no one was calling to her. 

She was being talked about. 

She recognized her mom and sister’s voices, and then a couple of her aunts. They were talking around the corner, completely unaware that Y/N was in hearing distance.

So Y/N couldn’t help but linger.

“She says he works a lot. Every time I facetime her, he’s never there,” her sister Kate told the women. “I wouldn’t even really know what he looked like if it weren’t for her photos that she’s sent me. He doesn’t have any social media.”

“I just can’t believe he couldn’t get work off. Around the holidays?” Her mom added in utter disbelief. “Sounds like it won’t be surprising when she finds out he’s been unfaithful,” one her aunts commented.

The group hummed in agreement, but also disappointment. 

“He doesn’t even live in Metropolis. He lives in Gotham,” her mother supplied, only further backing the idea that Jason wasn’t committed. “God knows why. But I hate that Y/N is constantly going there. No good news comes from that city.”

Y/N clenched her teeth in anger.

If only they knew the truth about Jason. 

He was a hero and risked his life every night for an entire city – a city that had done nothing but hurt him. And he was 20 times the man than any of the men in their family.

She just wanted to scream at them for being so judgmental about a person they’d never even met.

But she couldn’t.

So Y/N stormed up to her childhood bedroom and decided she had enough of the party.

She shouldn’t have come home for the holidays. She would’ve rather waited for Jason to get back from his Red Hood work than listen to her family misjudge the first man she ever truly loved and wanted to share with them.

————————

Y/N was so tired when she got off the plane.

She felt like a zombie as she walked to baggage claim to grab her duffle.

What she wasn’t expecting was to find her boyfriend waiting for her in arrivals.

Y/N had told him she would just get a car.

But Jason seemed to have other ideas.

Y/N’s entire face brightened at the sight of him.

She practically ran to him and jumped into his arms.

Jason chuckled at her enthusiasm.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, her words muffled by his body.

“I thought I’d surprise you,” Jason said through a smile before he kissed her head.

Y/N didn’t respond, just held him tightly.

“Come on. Let’s get your bag and head home,” he finally told her.

—

“So, how was it?” Jason asked once they got into his car. Y/N shrugged, “It was fine.”

Her lack of details and curt response was enough warning for Jason to realize things were not totally fine between them.

He didn’t bother asking for more details during the car ride home. Instead, he answered all her questions about what he had been up to, how the case was going, if his family was alright.

Once they got back to Y/N’s apartment in Metropolis, the grace period seemed to be over.

Y/N had grown quiet as she moved around her apartment, unpacking and putting all her things away.

Jason walked into her bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed as she folded clean clothes. “This might be a shot in the dark. But I can’t help but feel that you’re not happy with me,” he finally pointed out.

She didn’t answer or look at him, just kept folding.

“Did something happen while you were at home?” Jason pushed.

She still didn’t answer. So Jason reached for her hands, holding them gently.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

“I just didn’t expect how hard it was going to be…” she finally whispered with a bowed head.

“What would be?”

“Just going home without you,” she explained.

“Did something happening?”

“I mean, kinda? Not really. They just…” she hesitated. Did she really want to confess all of this to him? She knew it would only hurt him. "They think you’re a bad boyfriend.”

Jason just nodded slowly.

He should’ve seen this coming. Of course her family didn’t think he was good enough. How could they think anything different?

“I’m just…fucking frustrated,” Y/n groaned. “I knew what I was getting into when you told me about your other life and who you really were. I was willing to keep your secret and protect it. I just never thought about how hard it would be keeping it from my family.”

She shook her head. “They think you’re not committed or something. And that…that you’re probably cheating on me.”

The idea of him ever doing that her made Jason sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” Jason mumbled.

“What?” Y/N gasped. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But I have,” he argued. “I put you in this position.”

“No, I did. I did when I fell in love with you,” she clarified.

“But I don’t want you lying to the people you love.”

“I’m not telling you this because I’m mad at you or blame you, Jason. I’m trying to tell you why I’m frustrated.”

She rubbed her face. “I just want them to know what an amazing person you are...and how brave and selfless. How you take care of me and love me and…and protect me.” Her eyes began to water. “They’re never gonna know the real you…even when they do meet you. And I fucking hate it.”

“So what if you told them?” Jason offered.

Her eyes widened at that. “Jason…”

“I’m serious. What if you told them?”

She thought about it. But she already knew the answer.

“It wouldn’t do any good. If I told them, then they’d be worried about me. Worried that your other life was putting me in danger. Worried that I would get pulled into it.”

Jason knew she was right.

Her family probably preferred an absentee boyfriend over a vigilante.

“But I see how the shitty men that have joined my family are. And you’re nothing like them. You’re so much better. And they’ll never even know.”

“Come here,” Jason muttered before he pulled her to him.

He let her body sink into his as he held her.

“I’ll do anything you want,” he whispered as he rubbed her back. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I always wondered what it would be like to finally been in a relationship – to just have someone on my team no matter what. I went to all those family gatherings thinking I’d never have it. And once I did, once I found you…” Her thoughts died out. “I just never expected it to be this way.”

“Do you regret it?” Jason asked as he pulled away to look in her eyes.

Her brow furrowed. “Regret what?”

“Being with me. Falling in love with me.”

Her heart broke at the question. “Oh, Jason. Of course not. Never.”

“What if I stopped?” He asked.

“No. I would never ask that of you,” she quickly shot down.

“I’d do it for you,” he tried to argue.

“I know you would. But I’m not asking. Because I know what it would do to you. Every time you’d see something in the news, you’d hate yourself. Because you would convince yourself that you could’ve stopped it. And maybe you would be right.” She took in a deep breath. “Red Hood isn’t just something you do. He’s a part of you. And even though I worry about you constantly, I’m never gonna tell you to stop.”

Jason took his time in reading her face.

“OK?” She pushed.

He nodded.

Then he embraced her once again.

“I’m sorry you have to keep my secrets,” he breathed into her hair.

————————————

Y/N walked into Jason’s apartment.

It was a Friday night and they agreed to have her come to his place this weekend.

Jason was always weary of her coming to Gotham, preferring her to stay in the safety of Metropolis.

He knew they couldn’t do the distance forever, and eventually they’d move into together. But he wasn’t ready to leave Gotham yet. And he didn’t want Y/N to lowering herself to such a city.

“J!” Y/N called when she walked in.

He had given her keys to his apartment quite early in their relationship, and told her she was welcome at his place any time. However, he wasn’t a fan of her getting there after dark. Gotham was Gotham, and he didn’t like her wandering around the city by herself just in order to give him a surprise visit.

An envelope on Jason’s kitchen counter caught her attention.

She nosily looked at it and saw that they were plane tickets to her hometown with both of their names on each of them.  

She heard Jason walk up behind her. “What’s this?”

“A surprise,” he shrugged.

“What do you mean?” She laughed.

“We’re gonna visit your family,” he explained casually. “I called your mom and sister to find a weekend that worked.”

Y/N was shocked to silence.

“I know I fucked up when I couldn’t go with you during the holidays. I know this isn’t gonna solve everything. But I figured…it’s start.” Before he could say more, Y/N threw her arms around him.

————

Jason Todd knew how to throw on the charm. And no matter how thick he laid it on, it always felt sincere.

Y/N smiled as she watched her boyfriend interacting with her family.

He knew so much about each of them already, that he knew exactly what to talk about with every one of them.

For their long-weekend visit, they had decided to stay with her sister.

Jason knew she would be the hardest to win over and was the most protective over Y/N. He made it his personal mission to befriend her and show her how much he loved her little sister.

Y/N never said so, but Jason knew how important it was to her that Kate approved of him.

However, Jason hadn’t been able to have a conversation alone with her all weekend.

Until their last morning there.

Y/N was still sleeping when Jason had made his way to the kitchen.

He figured he could make Kate and her husband breakfast after housing them for a long weekend. And he made sure to start a pot of coffee while he was at it.

Halfway through making his specialty waffles, Kate walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, hi,” she greeted, clearly surprised to find Jason cooking in her kitchen.

“Morning,” Jason greeted.

“This is a surprise,” she said as she looked around the kitchen.

“There’s coffee if you want some.”

“T-Thanks…” she managed to mutter. “Do you need some help?”

“Nope. I got it. You just relax.”

Kate seemed to be unsure of how to behave when she was alone with her little sister’s boyfriend, and eventually sat on the kitchen stool with her coffee.

“Do you cook a lot?” She finally broke the silence with her question.

“I enjoy it,” he answered with a shrug. “I figured it’s the least I can do for you guys putting us up.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Jason.”

He continued cooking.

Kate figured this was her opportunity to get to know Jason – and not just through Y/N’s eyes. So, she started asking him question after question, and he seemed happy to answer them. Kate was surprised to find out about Jason’s traumatic childhood, making him realize that Y/N must’ve only shared his relation to Bruce Wayne and nothing more about his life before becoming an adopted Wayne.

Jason wasn’t surprised Y/N kept that part of his life to herself. She was protective of him that way. She always felt like his past was his story to tell, not hers.

“I know missing the holidays didn’t leave the best impression,” Jason told her after they’d been talking for awhile.

“You really mean a lot to Y/N. And your opinion matters more to her than you might think,” he added as he crossed his arms.

Kate seemed a little taken aback by how unafraid he was of confrontation.

He seemed more mature for his age – maybe for hers, even.

“I know I’m not going to win any of you over from just a single trip,” Jason continued. “But I’m going to work my ass off to make sure I get there.”

Kate smiled at that.

“I love her,” he told her quietly, but with determination. “She’s…Well, she’s the best thing to ever happen to me.”

Then he smirked. “And I’m not dumb enough to do anything to fuck things up with her.”

He took in a shallow breath. “I just…I just needed you to know that.”

Kate’s heart swelled from hearing her little sister’s boyfriend confessing his love for Y/N.

“Thank you for telling me that,” she whispered, trying to stop herself from crying. “I worry about her. And I hate that she’s so far away sometimes. I miss her.”

“She misses you, too,” Jason assured her.

“Thank you for taking care of her. I’m suddenly realizing you’re the only reason she’s eating anything that’s not out of a takeout container.”

Jason laughed. “I plead the fifth.”

Before any more could be said, Y/N walked into the kitchen as if she was sleep walking.

“Well, look who it is…” Jason teased.

Y/N walked to him silently, clearly wanting cuddles.

Jason chuckled at her, but gave her what she wanted. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. He had kept the PDA at an absolute minimum while he had been around Y/N’s family. But he couldn’t help it when Y/N was her sleepy and adorable self.

“You sleep OK?” He tried to whisper to her.

But Kate still heard it and pretended to look down at her phone.

Y/N nodded into his neck, making him chuckle at her more.

This was new for Kate, seeing her sister being loved and loving someone. Her instinct was to say it made her uncomfortable. But it was just something she wasn’t used to.

Soon Kate’s husband woke up and they all ate breakfast together.

And a few hours later, Y/N and Jason were packed and their was a Lyft was waiting outside to take them to the airport.

Jason hugged Kate and her husband and thanked them for hosting them. Then he grabbed Y/N’s bags and gave her a moment alone with her sister as he took their stuff to the car.

“I think I owe the two of you an apology…” Kate told her little sister.

“You do?”

“I think I judged him a bit too much before really giving him a chance.”

Y/N winced, but nodded. “Yeah, you did, actually.”

“He really loves you.”

Y/N smiled. “He does.”

“I just want you to be happy, you know that right?”

“I know. But sometimes you think that what makes you happy is what would make me happy. Our lives are different. And we want different things. Just because my relationship looks different than yours doesn’t mean it’s worse in some way.”

Kate nodded sadly, knowing her sister was right. “I get that now.”

-----------

A/N: I was inspired to write this when I thought about how my own family would react to me having a boyfriend like Jason Todd: a man who was secretly a vigilante and had a past too hard for anyone to ever imagine. Hopefully, other people can relate to this and it wasn’t too personal. 😬

Let me know what you thought!!!

[goldenkirstein]

there's no place I'd rather be

or alternatively, you fall in love with jean despite knowing the precarious situation

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anonymous requested: Hello, long time reader here and glad that you open your request! Can I request a Jean x F! Reader. Reader is a Marleyan nurse who arrived with Yelena, tho she has no hate towards Eldian and feels unfair the stigmatism eldian suffers in Marley. She isnt involved in any plans just do her work. She slowly falls in love with Jean, but has to keep their relationship as she is « the ennemy ». They got secretly engaged before the rumbling. Canonverse, Fluff, slight, love. Thank you in advance ❤️❤️❤️

pairing: jean x fem! reader

wc: 2.1k+

tags: fluff, some angst, manga spoilers, female reader, language, mentions of food and injuries.

a/n: dashes denote timskips

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

“Not so tightly, I said firmly, not to cut off my circulation.” You giggled as the man released his grip on your wrist. He looked down, ears tinted red with embarrassment.

“Sorry, got distracted.” Hazel eyes met yours, and a soft chuckle left his mouth.

You were no stranger to the commanding officer; although a great soldier, he was not immune from the occasional bar fight, which often led him to knock at your door with a pleading look and a couple of cuts and bruises that needed your attention.

Over the months, the fights got less frequent, but Jean continued to visit you, leading to the formation of an unlikely friendship. Sometimes, he would come with lunch in hand, knowing how busy you got taking care of the sick and wounded. Other times, like today, he would join you on his days off, helping you complete menial tasks around the clinic.

“You are a terrible student, Kirstein; you know that?” You stood up from the cot and began to place the gauze and antiseptic liquid in the cabinet situated above.

“Maybe you’re just a terrible teacher.” He looked up at you with a teasing glint in his eyes. You whipped your head back to roll your eyes at the man before returning to the task at hand.

“I’d be careful with the choice of words; I don’t see any other nurse here who lets you follow them around like a lost puppy dog.” Closing the cabinet, you stripped the cot of the sheets, bunching them in your hands. Jean’s eyes followed your precise movements before he took the sheets out of your hand and placed them in the laundry hamper at the end of the bed.

“A puppy dog? Seriously? After helping you out at this lonesome clinic, that’s what I’m reduced to?” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning being shot.

You gave him a deadpan look before moving on to the next bed. The tall man remained in your periphery as you continued to work. The silent treatment clearly worked as a sigh left his lips. You glanced up, mouth already open to quip at him in playful annoyance, but found him running his hands through his hair— a nervous tick. You had picked up on it after cleaning his cuts when missions went wrong.

“So, next lesson, I was thinking, maybe you could teach me how to suture a wound?”

This was what he was nervous about?

“You can barely take my pulse without squeezin’ the pulp out of me; you think I’m going to trust you-”

“Okay, how about a date then.”

You blinked your eyes at him, a confused expression painting your face. There were too many complications, you thought. Sure he was attractive and kind, not to mention thoughtful, and his touch would set your skin ablaze, but he was ranked high in the military; would his superiors be okay with this?

There was no denying you did have feelings for him — a tiny part of you was squealing like a schoolgirl; you desperately wanted to lean into that part, but there could be consequences if you accepted.

Worrisome thoughts circled your mind, and you barely heard your name being called out by the man in front of you. Shaking your head to clear your mind, your focus returned to Jean, his eyebrows raised as he waited with bated breath for your response.

It’s just one date.

It could mean nothing.

There’s no harm in saying yes.

“Um, it’s fine if you don’t-” Jean’s voice was hesitant and quiet, but he was quickly cut off when you let out a laugh.

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just-you know what? Yeah, Kirstein, I’ll go on a date with you.” His demeanour changed, and you giggled at the awkwardness. “Now, I have a pile of patient files that need sorting. Think you’re up for the job?” You bit your lip as you watched the man quickly nod and follow behind your footsteps.

—

“Seriously? I mean, I don’t see it; guess puberty did you wonders, Jean.” You took a bite of the strawberry shortcake, eyes fluttering shut as the flavours filled your mouth.

“Right? I guess I was kind of a dick back then, but I swear they only just stopped calling me that.” Jean smiled as he looked over at you, enjoying the dessert. He hopelessly wanted to kiss you there and then, but he decided against it — too early for that.

“Do you miss it? Your training years?” Taking a napkin, you wiped at the corner of your mouth. The smile on Jean’s face faded away as he looked over the meadow, the setting sun casting a brilliant glow over his features. The change in his expression filled you with instant regret; you opened your mouth to utter out an apology for your carelessness but were cut off by Jean’s voice replacing the sudden silence that had taken over between the two of you.

“Yes? No? Sometimes, it feels like a different lifetime; none of us could have anticipated this. We were so young.” He paused for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek before continuing, “Sometimes I wish we could have stayed like that for a little longer — I could have cherished it better.” His voice turned into a whisper near the end. You stayed silent before he turned back, flashing a smile at you that made your heartbeat quicken.

“Enough about me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about Marley. Tell me about it.” Jean’s eyes flickered between yours and the different slices of cake laid out on the picnic blanket. Taking a fork, he bit into the decadent cheesecake and let out a moan.

“You really want to hear about Marley? I thought you’d be sick of hearing about the place, Mr. Commanding Officer.” You giggled while he tried to grumble out a response, the food still in his mouth.

“I could never get tired of hearing about you, doll. Now, c’mon tell me.” His expression softened when he looked at you.

“Don’t do that.” You swallowed thickly, the pet name ringing in your ears.

“Do what?” He wiped the crumbs around his mouth with the back of his hand, making you raise your eyebrows and suppress a laugh. He tilted his head and looked at you with a confused expression.

“Say stuff that makes me feel like I got the wind knocked out of my lungs.” You turned your face, attempting to conceal the embarrassment that had taken over your features. Shutting your eyes, you waited for him to laugh at you, but he never did. Hesitantly you turned to face him and found him staring at you, his hazel eyes sparkling.

“You want to know what my diagnosis for that is?” He leaned in, his face inches away from yours. You struggled to meet his gaze.

“What?” It came out breathy; Jean’s eyes flickered down to your lips before returning to your eyes.

“I think you like me. Wanna know what I recommend as treatment?” He smiled when you quickly nodded at his words, the conversation you were having wiped from your mind.

The distance between the two of you closed in; his lips moulded to yours as he captured them in a tender kiss. The taste of the sweet cheesecake was still present on his lips, and you wrapped his hand around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Jean smiled against your lips before pulling away.

“Guess my lessons finally paid off, Kirstein.” A slight blush tinted Jean’s cheeks at your comment, and he grasped your free hand with his own, bringing it to his lips, peppering your knuckles with soft kisses.

—

“Are you listening?”

The Commander’s voice made you sit up straight; you offered a quick apology to them before glancing over at Jean, who was shifting in his seat.

The tension was palpable in the room as the Commander continued to explain the fragility of the situation at hand. With Eren abandoning the scouts, intense scrutiny was placed on the Commander and the Marleyan volunteers — the latter of which included you.

You stared at your hands which rested in your lap, gaze focused downward to avoid the venomous looks that were being thrown in your direction. However, it wasn’t anger that filled your chest but rather a certain heaviness. You couldn’t blame them. Centuries of mistrust and hatred fueled this. They had every right to doubt your intentions, despite them being in no way harmful or deceitful in nature.

Gathering enough courage to lift your head, you locked eyes with Jean, and your heart sank deeper into a pool of anguish.

You were a fool.

A fool for thinking that the world would spare you from the inevitable heartbreak that faced you both.

You hoped that Jean wouldn’t be able to see through the front you were putting up, trying your best to remain neutral, not to worry him during such an important meeting. He ran his fingers through his hair, eyes shifting back to Commander Hange. You knew that if you were worrying about the current predicament, there was no doubt that he probably was as well.

Shifting your focus back on your lap, you ran your thumb over your bare ring finger to soothe yourself for the remainder of the meeting.

Welcoming the cool breeze as you stepped out of the imposing building, you allowed your shoulders to relax. The momentary relief was short-lived, however, as two soldiers trailed behind your footsteps. They were getting closer and closer until you turned around and saw a familiar figure dismiss them.

Jean approached you; although his expression was stiff and stoic, his eyes still held the same tenderness for you as they did years prior. Before accompanying you through the gates and on to the stone-laden path towards your clinic, he gave you a curt nod.

You knew better than to reach out and grasp his hand, interlock your fingers together, despite the ever-growing itch you had to seek comfort in his touch.

Sparing a few glances in his direction, you saw his jaw was clenched — the meeting still heavy on his mind.

Rounding the corner, the steps leading to the clinic came into view; it was secluded enough for both of you to drop the act. You walked over and sat on the steps and watched as Jean sat next to you.

A tired sigh tumbled from his lips, hair falling in front of his face, obstructing you from seeing his pained expression. You reached over and brushed it past his ear, pressing a kiss onto his shoulder before resting your forehead against it.

The both of you sat in silence before Jean took hold of your left hand, thumb brushing over the same spot you were moments prior.

“You know, I was worried you only said yes out of pity for me. I thought you only saw me as some poor Eldian-” Raising your head from Jean’s shoulder, you watched with concern in your eyes.

“Jean, you know I don’t care about that stuff.”

“I know that, doll. I just, just, couldn’t believe you would want to marry me.” His eyes remained focused on your hand until you released it from his grasp. You moved it to his face, turning it to make him face you.

Grazing over his cheekbones, you gave him a soft smile, “I still want to. Marry you that is. Ring or not, the end of the fucking world or not, I’m still going to marry you.” Letting out a chuckle, you pressed your forehead against his.

He turned his head to kiss your palm, voice coming out as a whisper, “I can’t make any promises, and I know you’re scared, but know that I love you more than anything, darling.”

—

Smoothing your hands over your attire, for the umpteenth time doing so, you walked over to join Armin and the others from the ship’s bow.

You instantly smiled when you felt a warm hand on the small of your back, head turning to look at your husband.

“You could have spent a smidge more time fixing your hair, don’t you think so?” Jean shook his head and let out a laugh.

“Gotta look the best for my wife.” He shot you a wink, making you roll your eyes at him despite the action making your mind foggy — even now, he still managed to make you feel like a schoolgirl with a silly little crush.

You pushed into his side, hand snaking up his back as you approached your friends.

“Nervous?”

“You know it.” He removed himself from your side to lean into the railing, but he grabbed onto your hand and pulled you closer to his body.

Jean brought your hand to his lips before he placed a gentle kiss over the cool metal that wrapped around your finger. He flashed you a grin, “but I’m glad I have you here with me.”

a/n: this took me a long time to finish, so I apologize for it taking so long !! I hope you enjoyed it !!

taglist: @c0urtn3y, @clean-soap, @depressedbisexual, @dai-tsukki-desu, @conniesspringersgf, @glittrkink, @amnxsia, @kentos-kinfolk, @ally22042000, @just-that-one-kid00, @jeansbabycake, @fiaficsxo, @aracynthos

click here to join my taglist

As always, please leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed this; I appreciate it lots <33

[rexx-lapis]

Sensei // Gojo Satoru x Reader

-> Satoru and you haven’t seen each other since you graduated from the academy. But somehow he never really left your mind. What happens now that you are a strong and confident exorcist and that your sensei finally notice you ?

Tags: Takes place during the school tournament but is canon divergent, Smut, age gap but the reader is in their early 20s, gender neutral reader and use of the pronouns they/them, voyeurism, sex without protection, Use of the word slut, SENSEI KINK, mention of fight, murder and injuries, the reader wears an eyepatch cause it’s cool, Gojo POV, mutual pinning.

Satoru liked his life as it was. His job as a teacher was great, not too complicated and allowed him to stay close to the higher ups. In the end, it was not too demanding and in the exception of watching over Itadori just to make Sukuna wasn’t wilding out, it was pretty chill. He liked that. Since his graduation he had chose to live his life without worrying too much. There was not a lot of things that could hurt him, he knew how powerful he was, so all he had to worry about was literally insignificant. He was just being his real playful self, most people deemed him childish, and he kinda was. In the end everyone kept in their mind that he was the most powerful sorcerer out there. It wasn’t ego, he was just being self aware. Even in more trivial thing, nature had made it easy for him. Women were often falling into his arms without him doing anything. His easy going personality was just a bonus. He was just having fun, not wanting to engage in any type of serious relationship that was obviously not compatible with his lifestyle. He wasn’t an idiot, having a significant other meant exposing himself to pain and offering to his enemies a way of pressure. It was already difficult enough with his students, he was not sure he’ll be able to protect someone else at all time. And there was no way he would let go of his job. In the end even for his good looks, not a lot of people would be willing to risk their life. Or maybe it was just the fact that he had the reputation of being a player and that no one was willing to be used. This morning he woke up tired, the night before he has been forced to go on a special mission before the beginning of the tournament between Tokyo’s college and Kyoto’s one. The students were all here now, and ready to begin. Several teacher were sitting in front of the screens that would allow them to follow the different students. He recognized everyone, even the old Yoshinobu Gakuganji, that he preferred to see in the same room. He didn’t trust the old men and he already knew he was up to something. He settled down looking around him waiting for the beginning of the first trial.Until he saw you. You were entering the room, looking in front of you. Your face was familiar but he couldn’t really tell where he knew you from. You were wearing a black uniform characteristic of the jujutsu sorcerer. You stoped in front of Iori, greeting her. The woman seemed to know you as she simply smiled and offered you a sit next to her. You looked around, your eyes falling on him, and you simply nodded your head in his direction.

“Hello Gojo sensei”

This voice. Yeah he definitely knew you.

“ Well hello -

-Y/n Y/l/n”

Yeah he remembered you now. You went to Tokyo’s academy, but you were a few years younger than him. He had already graduated a few years before and was starting to be a teacher when you integrated the school. You were so young back then, sixteen maybe, now you looked so mature. Beautiful truly. Even with the eye patch hiding your left eye, he could see how beautiful you were. He simply smiled, nodding.

“Long time no see Y/n.

- Indeed”

You did not say anything else simply sitting down, Iori was looking angry, and started grumbling at you, probably asking where you knew him from. You simply looked at her, not having the time to say anything as the screens light up. Satoru did not realized right away, but turning around he saw the old Gakuganji looking at you, a dark look in his eyes. You did not even look in his direction. Something was up between you two for sure. The trials began and soon Satoru realized something was wrong. That old sneaky bastard had definitely ask his student to kill Itadori. He sighed, frustrated but not surprised. You on the other hand seemed way more bothered by the idea.

“ Why does it feel like a set up to me?”

Iori tensed next to you but no one answered. You didn’t say anything else. Satoru couldn’t help but wonder why you came here. Indeed the tournament was an interesting thing to watch but you were not a teacher, or at least not that he knew of. What were you doing here, sweet, innocent y/n. You couldn’t possibly be one of the guard dog of the higher ups.

“Megumi is for sure very impressive.

-You know him? asked Iori

-I worked with his dad once. They don’t seem to have much in common at first but...

-You know Toji Fushiguro ?”asked Gojo suddenly sitting up straight on his chair

“I met him once, I wish I did not tho

-He tends to do this to people”

Your conversation was cut off by a noise and a flash of smoke. The red parchment that were stuck on the wall had caught on fire.

“What’s happening?

-The trials are already over?

-No, something is wrong.

-Apparently, some curses came uninvited”

You stood up, visibly not phased by this. What were you hiding?

“ We should go, at least rescue the students. If the curses are too powerful they won’t stand a chance.”

They split in several groups, and they started to run, hopefully joining their students before it was too late. Sadly nothing happened like Satoru imagined. First, a sort of black veiled recovered the place of the tournament. The more frustrating was that everyone seemed to be able to cross it except for him. Satoru find himself stuck outside unable to do anything. Behind his smile, he was worried. Was he really going to send Iori and the old man in this situation alone. And you. What about you. You did not seemed phased one bit by the situation, but he couldn’t help but wonder if you were not going to be more of a burden. After all you still were young. But he couldn’t tell you to stay back, and if you were here it was because you were qualified to do your job. The three of you disappeared behind the veil. It wasn’t often he felt helpless but right now he definitely did. After several minutes later he saw Panda come from behind the veil, Megumi in one arm, and Maki in the other. They were both severely injured but their life was not threatened now that they were being taken care of. Soon after Nishimiya carrying Noriyoshi and Inumaki flied through the veil, almost crashing on the ground. Being the only one still conscious, Nishimiya told him how she saw Itadori and Todo fighting a grade s curse when she was flying away. The more Satoru was thinking about it the more it sounded fishy. But he didn’t even had the time to thing this through before the veil disappeared. The old man was standing there with what seemed to be the corpse of man.

“They ran to see if they could find the two other brats. Go and see how they are doing.”

Satoru didn’t even wait for him to finish his sentence and started running. He felt a burst of cursed energy and decided he should check it out. He arrived to see Itadori and Todo hurt, Iori trying to help them stand up.

“Where is the curse ?”

Iori gasped, face suddenly tensed. She looked scared. She simply pointed at the empty air. It has been dealt with apparently. But you weren’t here.

“Where is Y/n?

-They left. They ran in this direction.

-Everyone is already out” he threw his phone at her, “call the old man or one of your student so they can help you with those two.”

He had to find you. He took him a couple of minutes to catch up on you, you had not got that far. You seemed completely normal, not even a micro injury. The only thing was that your right sleeve had been torned exposing your arm. You turned around facing him. You did not say anything just walking toward him. There was no trace of another curse. He was going to ask you what happened when you lifted your arm silencing him. Your phone buzzed in you pocket.

“Hello sir.”

He could not hear what was being said on the other side. But he could easily guessed it was one of your superior.

“The curse has been eliminated. It was a grade s. The students are safe, and the ones that are injured will be okay. Very well.”

You marked a pause, your eyes darting on his face, wondering if you could keep talking even though he was still here. He had no intention of going anywhere though.

“ Yes, Mahito escaped...”

You expression hardened.

“ I know... next time...”

You simply hanged up, finally turning to face Satoru.

“We can go, there’s nothing left here. They’re gone.”

He simply nodded.

“ I knew it was weird. Why would you even bother to come all this way to witness the tournament. I mean, it can be quite enjoyable but, you seem rather occupied.”

You didn’t say anything. You changed so much, what happened to joyful, cute Y/n, he wondered.

“ You were using the tournament as a way to attract Mahito ?

-No. I just knew he was gonna be here eventually.

-Why are you looking for him.

-Who isn’t looking for him at this point.

-Hmm, no, I feel like it’s personal.”

You clenched your jaw.

“He killed my team mates. Three months ago.”

Oh, that explained the dark energy coming out of you.

“So it is personal.

-You could say that”

You didn’t say a word, the weight of what you saw like a failure heavy on your shoulders. Satoru knew that better than anyone. The tournament was canceled and rescheduled. And weirdly enough, you did not left the academy at the same time as the Kyoto staff. You said your farewell to Iori and the students, returning later to your now assigned room. Satoru knew that if you were still here, it was because you had been assigned a new mission.

“You are still tagging along?”

You turned around, stopping your writing almost instantly. You might have been distracted because you did not hear him come in.

“Entering a someone’s room without authorization, sensei, it’s not reasonable.”

He couldn’t tell if you were serious or not. He couldn’t help if your room was next to his. He was curious.

“You are still calling me sensei? I am not your sensei anymore though.

-Officially no, but I am still learning while being here. But I can call you by your name if you prefer”

He actually liked when you called him sensei. He didn’t answer but you caught up pretty quick.

“Let’s stick with sensei then.”

He looked at you over his glasses, scanning your body. You weren’t wearing your uniform but a simple casual outfit. You looked cute. Your face scrunched in an adorable expression as you were concentrating on what you were writing.

“ What are you writing? A love letter to your boyfriend?”

He could almost hear you sight. He smiled, getting comfortable on your bed.

“ I am writing a report.

-About what?

-What happened during the tournament.

-Mahito?

-You could say that.

-Y/n. Could you do something for me?

-Depends.

-If you could not mention in your report what happened between the Kyoto college and Itadori, it would really be nice.

-I don’t understand why you would not want the higher ups to not know that people of our organization are trying to kill a sixteen year old.

-It’s because you are still naive Y/n”

You turned around, visibly angry.

“I am not stupid. I know what they would do to Itadori if they could. I didn’t mentioned the incident in my report.”

He smiled, getting up, getting closer to you.

“ Good” he almost whispered in your ear. He could see your face heat up, but you stayed calm.

“Are you done? Or do you doubt me so much, you want to read my report too.

-I think about you a lot, but not once I’ve doubt you. I don’t know what you did to that curse in front of Itadori but he won’t even talk to me about it”

You smirked.

“Good.”

Satoru’s head was just full of you now. He just couldn’t help it. You were basically living together at this point. Even if he was busy training the first year and mostly Itadori, he was still seeing you from the corner of his eyes. You seemed interested in Itadori’s training, maybe secretly hoping for Sukuna to manifest. You did not seem to care though. You weren’t avoiding him, but you paid him no mind. He saw you multiple times laughing with Itadori, Nobara or Megumi. He even saw you leave with Nanami one evening. You came back late at night, drunk.

“Do you even have the required age to drink?”he asked a disapproving tone in his voice.

“Yes I do... How old do you think I am....

-You’re younger than Nanami, so what were you even doing outside with him”

You pouted, your arm crossing over your chest. Fuck, you were so cute. And you looked so pretty like this. Your hair were kinda messy, your visible eye gleaming. Your lips, fuck, it was kinda hard not to stare at them. Maybe he should be the one going outside, he seemed to need it.

“He just took me out to drink nothing else. And you shouldn’t even talk. That so hypocritical.

-What have I done ?

-You slept with at least three of my friend from graduation”

Ah.

“So I don’t want to here anything else from you”

You sounded kinda angry now. But he couldn’t take you seriously right now. Not when you looked like a angry little kitten.

“I’m going to sleep”

He watched you go, your steps uncertain.

“Y/n, love, your room is the other way.”

You stoped in your track, looking at him, lost.

“I know. I was just playing”

Yes, so cute. He chuckled, deciding to escort you to your room just to make sure.

“Is this because of your friends that you are avoiding me love.

-Yes.

-Why? I didn’t do anything wrong to them? Did I?

-No, but I don’t want to end up sleeping with you”

Ouch, okay.

“After, you’re gonna break my heart and ghost me. No way.”

You arrived in front of your room.

“I would never do that to you love, so, would you go out with me?

-No

-You’re just being a brat right now”

You laughed at him before opening your door.

“Good night Gojo Sensei”

This night signed the beginning of a real nightmare for him. You did not mentioned anything from this night to him after it happened. But fuck he wanted you so much. He felt bad about it, you being so young, he felt like he was going to corrupt you or something. He did not felt like this with any of your friend or his previous one night stands. So why with you? Maybe because he knew you since you were young. You weren’t especially close, you were often with people your age and he was on his side with the other teachers. But now you were an adult, and for what seemed a very strong sorcerer. Sometimes, he was wondering what was happening in his head, when he was taking decisions. Like when he chose to invite a girl over, while you where here, when all he could think about was you. He was doing this to provoke you, or maybe he was just dumb. Fucking her against the wall that was just next to yours was maybe a bit too much, but he still did it somehow. He was sick for this. You on the other side, you wanted to cry and throw yourself through the window. Fuck you could even hear him groan behind all the sound the girl was doing. How thin were those walls? You grabbed your earphones, trying to cancel the noises, but your mind was still full of Satoru. For years you had promise yourself that you won’t be like every other person that had met him. You would never fall in love with him, or want to sleep with him. So why was your heart aching because he was currently fucking someone else. And why you could feel arousal pooling in your belly, your thighs rubbing against one another. You would never do that. Touch yourself. Like this. No. You were better than that.

“Ah fuck...” you heard him moan from the other side.

In the end you were just a weak little human. And soon your hand find the way of your underwear, finally touching the most sensitive place of your body. You were just imagining him in top of you, he would fuck you so good, so full. You could almost feel his weight on your body, his skin against yours. You wished you could say it was the first time you had imagine something like this. But it really wasn’t. Satoru has been haunting your darkest fantasy for a while now, fed now by all the story you’ve heard from your friends.

“Ah fuck, love, do you hear me?”

You stopped breathing, your fingers stopping what they were doing.

“ Fuck love, you look so fucking pretty, spread yourself more for me”

You were so dumb for doing this but you still did, spreading your legs wider, giving yourself a better access.

“ I’m sure you taste so sweet, fuck, if only I could taste you.”

Your fingers were becoming more erratic, pleasure and tension building up between your legs.

“Are you gonna cum love?

-Yes” you cried, your face burning from embarrassment.

You prayed all the gods above that they couldn’t hear you.

“Yeah you’re gonna come for me. So fucking pretty, ah-”

You cried out, the coil in your stomach snapping, your juice flooding out.

“Gojo sensei” you moaned, maybe a bit too loud.

You hear him moan from the other side of the wall, probably reaching his end too. The only thing left of you was exhaustion, sadness and a bit of disgust. You just wanted to sleep. The next day Satoru woke up a bitter sweet taste in his mouth. What happened during the night, he could not explain it. But fuck, he heard you, and he knew you heard him. He hope you knew that every words he said were meant for you. That it was your face that flashed through his mind when he came that night. He find you in the common room, speaking to Itadori, the boy looking a bit down.

“Are you really leaving us soon?

-Yes I already overstepped my boundaries with staying that long. Obviously Mahito is not going to come back any time soon.

-We’ll miss you Y/n!”

You were leaving? It was logical after all. You could not stay here forever. Why did it make him a little bit sad then?

“Leaving already?”

You turned you head toward him, soon avoiding his gaze. He smiled.

“I have to go back to the headquarters as soon as I can. I am leaving for the south tomorrow.

-I see”

You next told everyone that you will go to Tokyo this afternoon because you wanted to buy some stuff before leaving. The first year almost jumped you, begging you to take them with you. Or at least Itadori and Nobara did.

“Kids, Y/n probably wants to spend time alone.

-No it’s fine they can come with me.

-It won’t bother you if I come too then”

Your head lowered, visibly embarrassed. But you didn’t say anything about it. You left to get ready, changing your uniform for some casual clothes, and Satoru thanked all the gods for this. You looked adorable. Your black eyepatch was replaced by a white simpler one, you were wearing a cute outfit, suddenly you were looking more your age.

“Let’s go then”

You stayed silent for most of the trip. Itadori and Nobara were so happy to go out you almost lost them twice in the crowd. Megumi was walking calmly behind them, looking after the two. You stoped a few times to look at some street food, and Satoru couldn’t help but think of this as a kind of date. If only he could hold your hand in his while you strolled through harajuku.

“They look good, don’t they?

Hm, they do, the one with strawberries look really tasty”

He got closer from, his tall form hovering your body. Your back was pressed against his torso and he could feel you tense a bit. He smirked, getting closer, pressing himself against your ass even more. You gasped.

“We’ll take two of the strawberry ones please!” He said smiling, your head shooting up to look at him.

“Sensei...

-Come on Y/n, let me spoil you a bit”

You didn’t say anything else, just pouting looking away from him.

“Their whip cream tastes so good.

-Yes this place is great. There is a mochi place not far away, it’s great too!

-Do you have a sweet tooth sensei?

-I always loved what was sweet”

You snickered a bit not saying anything. You all kept walking for a bit finally deciding to go back to the academy. You were laughing and the mood had obviously lighten up even if you were still distant.

“Did you have a good time ?

-Yes thank you. I’m happy I could have a little break before going back to mission.

-Where are they sending you?

-In China. Mahito is only the tip of the iceberg. Me and several other shaman are sent to hopefully learn some things about the curses there.

-Seems risky.

-It definitely is. I don’t want to be paranoid but I have a feeling they want to maybe silence some of us.

-Oh so you are aware of that.

-I’ve been working for them since I was seventeen. I am well aware of their methods. Mahito might have killed most of my team mates, but we were not supposed to face someone as powerful. At least not when I wasn’t here.

-They got you separated from the group for a while?

-Basically yeah, when I came back most of them were dead, the other quite the job.

-And you still are going to follow their orders?

-I don’t really have a choice. I don’t feel like becoming a target of their wrath” you turned around to face him, “I am not like you”

He took off his blindfold, his eyes falling on your soft face. You gasped a little, almost dropping your ice cream. He came closer, bending his neck a little to look into your eyes.

“Don’t die.

-I don’t plan to.

-Good”

If you ended up dying, maybe he would go and have a little discussion with the so called higher ups of the sorcerer society. He knew you were strong, stronger than most, the way you got rid of the s class curse was still a mystery to him, but he knew that those bastards had very efficient way to get rid of people they deemed too dangerous. If only you could stay here.

“ But you know, if I end up dying there, could you do something for me before.”

He quirked an eyebrow, suspicious.

“Sensei”

His breathing became a little bit more rigged.

“Sensei, could you help me with something?

-Yes, of course”

He didn’t even need to know what you were asking him. He would basically do anything for you at this point. Really everything. You grabbed his shirt, asking him to bend over, his face coming at your level.

“ Sensei, I didn’t even tell you what I wanted yet...

-And what do you want?

-I want you”

He almost chocked on air. He could definitely give this to you.

“You can have me whenever you want love, fuck, you don’t even have to ask.”

He almost ran through the wall while returning to your room. It was empty when he came in. You really were going to leave. He did not have time to think more about it before you jump in his arm, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“ I caught you baby”, he chuckled, “Now, what do you want me to do?”

Your mouth was so close from his, you breath hitting his lips.

“ Tell me sensei, do you like being teased?

-Not really baby

-Me either, but last time, a guy I liked thought it was a good idea to make me know he was fucking someone else.

-This guy is a meanie

-He really is. I was waiting in my room, if he wanted he could have take me. Because I was waiting for him you know

-Oh really?”

You little minx, you were playing with him.

“I had to touch myself all alone in my room you know”

Yeah he was definitely hard now. He dropped you a little lower, your ass pressing against his clothed cock.

“ Sensei, I said no teasing...

-You’re right, no more teasing.”

He let you fall into the bed, laughing a little at your surprised expression. If you didn’t like being teased he wasn’t gonna waste more time. He grabbed your chin firmly in his hand squeezing your cheeks. You looked at him, your hands hesitantly reaching for his blindfold .

“Do it”

You hooked your thumbs under the fabric, slowly taking it off. He saw you eyes widen a little, lips parting slightly. You had already seen him without his blindfold but it seemed so much more intimate now. His beautiful white hair fell on his forehead, azure eyes opening to stare directly into your own.

“My turn”

His hand slide along your cheek, taking of your eye patch. A little scar was crossing your eyelid.

“So pretty” he said smirking, his lips hovering over yours.

You obviously weren’t very patient. The moment he was getting closer, you bite his lower lip, sucking it gently. He could feel your teeth sink into his flesh. You were going to be the death of him. He grabbed your hair firmly, capturing your lips in a feverish kiss. Your thighs were parted, his slander hips placed perfectly between them. You tasted so sweet, the taste of ice cream still lingering on your tongue. His favorite dessert truly. He could have kept kissing you forever if he didn’t felt you moving under him, your hips rolling against his crotch. He could feel how much you wanted this. He grabbed your wrist pinning your arms to the mattress. He had no doubt that you were a strong sorcerer but what could you even do against him.

“You want this so bad, you’re starting to behave like a slut.

-I can’t wait anymore. I’ve wait for this for so long.

-Did you?

-Yeah” you moaned shamelessly when he rocked his hips forward. You cried out his name, eyebrows furrowing. He had all the intentions in the world of driving you crazy, teasing you to no ends. But seeing you like this. His poor baby. He wasn’t going to be cruel. Not a lot that is. He let his hands caress your body, watching how you seem to squirm under his touch. You looked so sensitive.

“I’m gonna be nice with you love, but you have to be honest with me.

-W-what? I’d do anything....

-Of course you would.”

He bit your skin near your hip, leaving a mark there. Trailing his way down until he reaches your underwear. He was almost salivating at the view. If your mouth has tasted sweet, he couldn’t wait to taste you more. He spread your legs wider, holding your thighs firmly. His tongue darted out of his mouth, finally touching your flesh. You were so wet, your smell so much stronger there. He saw your hands clapping against your mouth, a little noise escaping you.

“Now you’re gonna have to tell me the truth baby. Do you want me?

-So much! I really want you sensei!

-Since when have you think of me like this?” You looked up to him, your eyes widened in shock and embarrassment.

“Since... We met maybe....

-So fucking naughty... Tell me more....

-Sensei... I wanted you so much back then but you weren’t even looking at me, fuck it feels so good...” He had started sucking at your flesh, toying with the most sensitive part of your body. You were squirming against his touch, but the little noises you were letting out were so sinful.

“I did so many things so you would notice me, haaa, but you didn’t... I know I had to become stronger.

-And now here you are baby, you’ve become so strong, and so good at pretending you don’t want me. I almost believed you in the beginning.”

Knowing that you had fantasied about this since you met him was having an effect on him he should be ashamed of. Your silly little crush on him, and all the thing you probably had thought about in your young mind full of hormones, it was really all he needed to lose all control. His fingers were now trusting deep and fast inside you. You were crying incoherent things, mixes of his name and pleads for more. He was addicted to you, he could stay like this, his mouth and fingers buried deep in your dripping hole, forever. Watching you cum for the second or third time as he laughed at you. He almost forgot how hard it had made him.

“Satoru...

-No more sensei?” he slapped you ass, “don’t be rude with your superior Y/n.

-Please just, more...

-Use your words baby”He was smirking, so cocky about the mess he had made of you.

“Your cock please....”

You didn’t even had to ask him twice. He probably would have made you beg for it if he wasn’t so drunk in you. He unzipped his pants, freeing his member. He was so hard, it was painful. He was so caught up in his thoughts he did not see your hand coming closer. He jolted, tensing, a little growl almost escaping his mouth, when you took his cock in your hand.

“Fuck, Y/n, don’t sneak on me like that...

-You’re so hard sensei...

-Yeah baby, it’s because of you, you made sensei like this...

-Can I taste you, I want you in my mouth”, you proceed to stick your tongue out, a bit of saliva dripping from it. You were gonna kill him. He wanted nothing more than to fuck your face. But right now all his thoughts were on your slutty little hole. Definitely later. He grabbed your legs, making you fell back into the mattress. He bent your legs, your upper thighs pressed against your chest. You were so exposed. He couldn’t wait any longer, his hips rocking forward, his cock entering you mercilessly. You gasped, air leaving your lungs. He felt so big inside you, so hard and heavy.

“You’re literally creaming around me already, are you gonna cum?”

He was smiling, but inside he was screaming . Why were you still so tight. So fucking warm, your slimy walls were sucking him in. He knew now, that he could stay buried balls deep inside you forever. He pressed his hips even more against you, his hips trusting hard against you. The noise of your juices and skin clapping against one another was obscene, but so addictive. He was hitting so deep, from this angle, rubbing against your walls. He grabbed your arms, letting your legs go. You were now sitting on his lap, chest pressed against his. The change of angle had made you moan even louder. It felt so much more intimate for some reason. His grip on your ass forcing you to impale yourself on his member. You were going to cum. You felt it, deep inside.

“Cum for me baby.”

You didn’t need anything else, as you press your forehead on his neck, moaning his name your body trembling against his. You felt him tense against you, his pace getting quicker and deeper. You were crying from overstimulation when he finally cum inside you, growling in you ear. You fell limb in his arms, empty of your energy. Satoru kissed you before laying you down on your bed. You grabbed his hand, bringing it to your mouth. You kissed his knuckles gently. His heart swell at that, not wanting to leave your side. That was how he find himself staying all night with you. You woke him up again a few hours later, you were looking all hot and bothered again. How could he say no to his baby. You spent the night like this, between cuddling and sleeping.

That’s why he was so surprised to see you weren’t there when he woke up. He had forgot you were supposed to leave early in the morning. He stood up, understanding how empty the room now felt. He walked toward the desk where his clothes had been folded. He took the little piece of paper, realizing you probably had left it here for him. He laughed, reading it. He knew you were strong. He just had to wait a little bit for you to come back. He knew you would.

[littlemisslipbalm]

“sorry to bother you”

Summary: Y/N meets Harry in a little shop in France. It was a lovely meeting between the fan and the rockstar, but when Y/N realizes she’s lost her phone, will she see Harry sooner than she had ever thought possible?

AKA Harry meets a fan and accidentally steals her phone

vibes bc they snack and she walks up to him while he’s looking at the sky lol ^

Ok so I just wanted to preface this: this was initially just going to be a short blurb about a respectful meeting between Harry and a fan because of the terrible stories I’ve been hearing lately about rude people being inconsiderate of Harry and his privacy and I wanted to showcase that you can treat Harry as a human being rather than an object when you see him irl. But then my writer brain wanted more and so it turned into more. All I have to say is if you ever meet Harry in real life, please be respectful and kind. Also there is a 0.00001 chance that this would ever actually happen as most fiction goes so please don’t expect more than a short convo and maybe a photo from him. For him to even speak with you is more than enough, he really isn’t a disneyland attraction. 

Also not proofread bc apparently its long lol, I’m not super in love with this but I think it’s good-ish the end is meh - pls lemme know what yall think :)

Word Count: 10.2k (wait im actually so confused how this got so long omfg) | Warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, idrk its long but it’s sweet?

-

She saw him long before she approached him. She was truly unsure of herself, not wanting to bother him or upset him. She had been a fan for so long and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet someone who meant so much to her.

In the small Bayeux shop, she hesitates as she risks another glance at the tall man. She whispered to her mom minutes ago about how Harry Styles was in the same shop as them. Her mom was texting her non stop telling her to go up to him or she would do it herself. Y/N shook her head, distrusting her mom and feeling self conscious. No one else was in the store and her interaction with him wouldn’t disrupt the rest of the store, but for some reason she felt a tinge of discomfort about going up to him.

Harry leafs over a tablecloth, not paying attention to the other patrons in the store or anything else for that matter. He was staying on the coast of France for the week and he hadn’t run into many fans, so he was feeling at ease. Mitch was somewhere else in the store, but Harry felt comfortable on his own. He feels a soft, small tap on his broad shoulder. He turns expecting the quiet Mitch, but is presented with a short, sweet looking woman.

“Excuse me. Um, hi...Sorry to bother you,” she starts, eyes wide as she works to maintain eye contact with Harry as she looks up at him.

His green eyes are widened, realizing this isn’t someone he knows.

“Hello,” he says simply.

“I-” she pauses, her hands fiddling, “I’m sorry to bother you, honestly. But, your music means so much to me and I’d kick myself for the rest of my life if I didn’t say something before you left.”

He smiles, his expression softening at how genuine she sounds. “It’s quite alright.”

“It’s not though. I’m sure you’d appreciate not being bothered for once.”

“No,” he cuts her off, “I love talking with fans.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure there’s days where you wish you could just go to a random store on the coast of France - so out of the way - and not be walked up to by a random person.”

“I mean, I guess, but you seem rather nice.”

“Thanks...I’ve been a fan long enough to know that there’s people who don’t always treat you with that kind of respect. I really wouldn’t have bothered you if it wouldn’t have changed my life.”

“Don’t feel like you’re a bother, please,” he pleads lightly as he grasps her hand out of instinct, dropping it immediately when he realizes what he’s done. “It’s the people who don’t actually come up to me and treat me like an animal that are upsetting. Or the people who are only after a photo and aren’t very nice to me. You… you’re treating me like a human being. Being overly courteous -- if I’m being honest.” He chuckles lightly at the end.

She blushes at his words and smiles up at him, mirroring the soft smile on his lips. “I’m only treating you how I would want to be treated if I were in your shoes.” She glances down at his feet and notices the Gucci boots and smiles to herself, laughing lightly.

“What?”

“We’ve got the same shoes on actually.”

“No way!” His voice is playful at first as he glances down at well and realizes she’s right. He laughs at the weird little coincidence.

“I’ve had these for years, my favorite shoes…” She mumbles, seeing the ways his eyes shift  with a flash of concern. It’s what she fears he would think of her, why she was so hesitant to approach him in the first place. It’s why she had tried to hide her laugh from him when she noticed the similarity. She just wants to interact with him in a normal way. He again softens at her words, her sincerity, realizing it really just is one of those random things.

“They’re good shoes,” he laughs again, kicking his left heel with his right foot. The way she barely touched him to get his attention and the way she stays a safe distance from him is reassuring. She’s aware of his situation, yet she’s treating him with the utmost care and respect.

“So what brings you to Bayeux?” He asks, deciding he wants to continue the conversation with her. Y/N flits her eyes behind her shoulder and sees her mother watching their interaction out of the corner of her eye. She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, leaning against the counter her and Harry are at.

“Vacation, I guess. My family and I love to travel and ever since the pandemic settled down - finally, we’ve been jetting everywhere we’ve ever been or wanted to go. Seize the day vibes.” Her voice is serious, but she falters and laughs at the end. Her words are honest and she’s happy to actually get to talk to Harry more than just hello and a picture.

“I get that. You’re from America, yeah? It was really rough there for a long time.” He says solemnly, mirroring her figure, leaning against the counter, getting comfortable with her.  

She laughs again, smiling up at him, eyes sparkling, completely in love with her idol, but desperately trying to play it cool. “The accent gives it away, huh? I’m trying to fix that, get a job out of the states and never go back.”

“Hey!” Harry interjects, throwing his hand out from his stance in her direction, like he might touch her, but this time being careful to not actually. “It’s not that bad. I like your accent...And I love LA.”

She can’t stop laughing with Harry. It feels so simple and common to just be talking with him. He doesn’t seem like he’s in a rush anywhere, but she also fears to take up too much of his time. “I’m originally from up north in California actually. Living in LA right now, though. But I don’t know, I’ve just always felt like I was meant to live somewhere else. Do you know how that is? Just feeling like you’re meant for something different?”

He watches the way she moves her hands and works through her thought process. He feels like in another world they would have been close friends. The way she talks about things is so familiar to him. It’s like she’s read his mind, even though he knows for sure she hasn’t. She’s funny and laid back, yet mature at the same time. He wonders how old she is, out of college it seems if she’s trying to get a job out of the United States. He wonders what she plans to do and who she wants to become. Her aura intrigues him to no end. He thinks he could talk to her for hours.

Realizing he hasn’t made any sort of response to her somewhat philosophical question, he nods quickly, eyes blinking rapidly, his body straightening up back to his full height. “Yeah..I mean that’s how I felt about music. Like, I always felt like I was meant for something more… Turns out I was!”

They smile together again, knowing the conversation is ending. She knows he won’t keep asking questions and she doesn’t want to keep him.

He knows he can’t completely turn himself over to this stranger, she’s obviously younger than him and even though he feels connected to her, she could surprise him still. He knows he can’t talk to her forever, the cashier glancing at the pair of them every so often since they haven’t been looking at any merchandise for a while now. He knows he shouldn’t flirt with her, ask her out for coffee or anything of the sort. He simply knows this must come to an end any moment now.

“You should definitely follow your heart,... I didn’t catch your name?” He realizes when he can’t finish his sentence by calling her name.

“Oh!” She says surprisedly, not realizing she never gave her name, “Y/N. And thank you, means a lot to hear encouragement come from someone who’s been such an inspiration to me. Honestly, thank you.”

He perks at the way she says her name, again feeling like he’s known her for much longer than these five minutes.

“It’s me who should be thanking you, Y/N. Your support is what makes my life the way it is. It means a lot to me - and you truly seem like a lovely person, genuinely.”

She throws her head back in laughter at all of the words he’s saying. The way he’s trying to convey his sincerity is earnest, but his word choice is simply funny to her. Without realizing what she’s doing, she throws out her arm and her hand lands on his bicep to steady herself while laughing - something she would do with anyone normally. He doesn’t shift from her grasp when she opens her eyes and even widens them at the sight in front of her. Her hand on Harry Styles. How is this happening? She thinks as he doesn’t disintegrate underneath her touch. He’s definitely real as she feels the coat fabric and the muscles beneath it. He smiles down at her, so sweetly that his dimples pop out. She’s in awe, but has to contain the slight sense of coolness she’d been maintaining during their conversation.

She removed her hand, gingerly, “I won’t keep you any longer, Harry.” She blushes when she says his name. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to get a picture with you, but I totally understand if you’re not okay with that. I wouldn’t post it anywhere, it’s more just for me to remember this.” She rushes the last bit, feeling nervous and shy yet again. He was so big physically, but his presence was also so strong that she felt even smaller around him.

His smile calms her immediately and this time it's his hand to touch her, his hand landing over hers that’s been resting on the counter during their conversation.

“Of course,” His lips are soft and plush as they maintain his sweet smile. “Hey Mitch!” He looks over his shoulder as he calls to Mitch who has returned from the upstairs part of the shop.

Mitch blinks at the sight of Harry with a stranger before coming over, “Yeah?”

“Do you mind taking a picture of Y/N and me?”

Y/N is still in disbelief of what is going on, completely awestruck that Harry just said her name again to Mitch Rowland. And that Mitch Rowland was even in this shop with her as well. She hadn’t realized that at first. But now she was going to be forever grateful to her father for insisting they come back to Bayeux during this trip.

Mitch nods and takes her phone once she slips it out of her pocket, fingers fidgeting to get it open quickly. Mitch smiles at her reassuringly as she lets go and moves to stand beside Harry against the counter. He pulls her into his side gently and her hand goes around his waist, feeling his warmth and substantiality for the first true time. She tries to ground herself in the moment, memorizing every detail of right now. His cologne that emanates from his neck, the way the material of his jacket feels against her bare arm, the way he puffs out a slight laugh as Mitch shifts around to get most of their bodies in the frame. Oh and the way he looks when he tilts his neck to check on her and he even risks a wink of one of his emerald eyes and she promises herself she’ll never give away any of the clothes she’s wearing right now. Her nonchalant response is to wink right back and then they both smile, turning back their attention to the phone in Mitch’s hands.

Her mom had gone up to the cashier, effectively distracting them from the photoshoot that had begun to take place. Y/N never wants Harry to let go of her, but again she knows this can’t last forever. Mitch takes a couple of photos before handing the phone back. Y/N assumes that’s it and is about to thank Harry, but he speaks over her and her words die in her throat.

“How do they look?”

“Oh?” She flips through them and Harry leans over her shoulder, respectfully. “Pretty good,” she sums up, she loves them and she’d love even more, but she’d obviously never ask Harry for that.

“Pretty good?” He echoes, unsure of her response, looking from her to the photos, “Do you want to take more?”

She thinks on his offer, already knowing the right answer, “No, no. It’s all good. Thanks.”

Then turning to face Mitch, who’s been watching the pair of them converse, “Could I actually get a photo with you, Mitch? Sorry if that’s super weird, I just think you’re really cool. I had no idea you were even here until, uh, Harry called you over.” She laughs nervously, blushing yet again.

Harry laughs under his breath at how both her and Mitch blush at her words. She’s more unsure with Mitch, which he finds interesting. She had carried their conversation easily and maintained eye contact casually, but with Mitch, it was like he was her schoolyard crush, nervous hands and fleeting glances. He wondered if she genuinely only liked Harry for his music and didn’t find him physically attractive. This nagging feeling at the back of his mind perplexed him, he twitched trying to shrug it off. Why did he care if this woman found Mitch attractive and not him?  

“Yeah, of course. It’s not weird, have had plenty of people say much weirder things to me than that…” He smiles at Y/N and she mirrors his expression, but then she bites her lip. Her expression falters slightly as she processes his words. “I’m sorry if you’ve had similar experiences as Harry with so-called fans being disrespectful and inconsiderate.”

“No need to apologize, you’ve been nothing but kind and respectful,” Harry interjects

She only fidgets at his words. She’s growing slightly more nervous, being in the presence of both Mitch and Harry was starting to wear on her calm exterior. Still, Mitch trades places with Harry and Harry plucks her phone from her hands. He takes more photos than Mitch, doing close ups and full shots, causing Mitch and Y/N to laugh as they hold onto each other. He gives them little instructions on what to do in the photos and soon Y/N is rolling her eyes at Harry like she’s been best friends with him for ages. She feels like she’s just out with a couple of her friends and they decided to stop and pose for photos randomly, rather than meeting rock legends that she had only dreamt of ever seeing in real life.

When Harry is finally satisfied and comes up to the pair of them, she moves away from Mitch first, his long hair shifting as she pulls away from his side. She turns to face him immediately and starts to gush, “You’re an amazing guitarist, by the way. I forgot to say that. When I heard ‘She’ for the first time...I was blown away. The guitar on it...Feels like you’re in another universe. And it follows up ‘To Be So Lonely’ which your guitar on it is also like crazy epic. ”

Harry and Mitch laugh, but Mitch’s smile is appreciative, like he’s about to speak, but Harry speaks first, “That’s because he was in another universe. You know the story?”

She smiles and nods. Harry nods in approval. Mitch interjects, “Thank you. Also, Y/N,” he stares intently at her face and she meets his gaze this time, “You’re truly one of the kindest people - maybe the kindest - who have come up to us. And I’m not just saying that because you complimented my guitar playing.”

“He’s right,” Harry nods solemnly. Her face beams up at them both, now she really felt like this was too good to be true. Meeting her idols and having them both say very complimentary things about her, she’d cherish it forever.

“You both are amazing people and deserve to be treated as such.” Her tone is the sincerest she’s ever been, meaning every single thing she says. Then she rushes out her next few sentences, “But thank you again, seriously, you both mean a lot to me - I’ll let you get back to it...Have a nice day!”

After they say their farewells swiftly, she turns to leave and bounces over to her mother who is grinning with pride for her daughter. Before she exits completely she risks a glance over her shoulder and throws a peace sign up, Harry returns it. Then she walks out of the shop, her mother finishing up her shopping minutes ago. Mitch and Harry stay back, talking and continuing to look around the store.

Y/N tries to keep her cool until they’re out of sight of the shop. Once they round the corner and are on the next street over, she’s jumping up and down and squealing to her mom. “Can you actually believe it? What the fuck just happened? That was real right? I wasn’t hallucinating?”

Her mom laughs and reassures her it was real, “You did that, I’m so proud of you. You handled yourself very maturely”

“Well I tried! I can’t believe Mitch was there too!” She interjects, cutting off her mom, completely ecstatic from the previous experience.

“So how did the photos come out?” Her mom asks once Y/N had stopped rambling about Harry’s outfit and their matching shoes and their conversation and basically anything that had happened in the last ten minutes. They were blocks from the shop now.

“Photos?”

“Yeah, the photos you took with them. How do they look? I was ready to come over, but then that other man popped out of nowhere.”

“He’s smooth like that,” she says wistfully, her little crush on Mitch being nowhere near her love for Harry, but still present, and pats for her phone. “Oh.” She says, stopping in her tracks.

Her mother stops with her, “What?”

“I...I left my phone in the store, I guess.”

“Y/N…” Her mom drags out her name in exasperation, in awe of her daughter’s ability to be so smooth with her own idol yet how forgetful she could still be.

“Shit!” She confirms that her phone is nowhere to be found.  

“Really?” Her mother sighs, hands sitting on her hips in the center of the French street.  

“Sorry?” She asks sheepishly. In her starstruck stupor she had been too transfixed on Harry and Mitch and must have placed it down on the counter.

“Well, let’s go back,” her mother states, tired but also not completely mad. She lost her phone plenty of times and it was usually because of less acceptable reasons. Meeting your idols warranted a spacey head.

The door chimes as Y/N reenters the store, she walks quickly to wear she had her conversation with Harry almost twenty minutes ago and her mom goes to ask the clerk if they had grabbed it. It’s not on the counter where they had been leaning. She glances around checking to see if it had fallen on the ground or if by some grand luck Harry and Mitch were still there. Due to her luck, neither of these hopes came true. Her mom joins her in the area and shakes her head, the clerk hadn’t gotten any phones turned in since they had left the first time.

“Give me your phone,” Y/N says suddenly. “Find my iphone,” she explains when her mom looks at her questioningly. Checking the phone, she sighs in exasperation, silently cursing herself for not sharing her location with her mom when her phone icon says ‘location unavailable’. She rubs a hand over her face in disappointment.

“Don’t click the sound button!” Her mom says quickly, “If someone stole it, they’ll turn it off when they hear it.”

“But how am I supposed to find it? It could be here and I just can’t see it.” Her finger hovers over the ‘play sound’ button, hesitant, but desperate. She had met and gotten photos with Harry Styles and they were already gone - oh and she’d have to replace her phone, which would be terrible, as well.  

“Maybe Harry Styles has it?”

“Mom, don’t be dumb.”

“Hey! Watch your tone. I’m serious. Did he ever hand it back to you after he took those second round of pictures?”

Y/N scratches her head nervously and hands back her mom’s phone. She places both over her face and presses her fingers harshly over her eyes trying to think. She hadn’t been paying attention to her phone at the time, too busy trying to commit everything about Harry to memory in her mind so that she’d never forget it. She was sure she’d never forget today, now, even if she ever stopped loving Harry, which she was doubtful of. Hey kids, I met a rockstar and I was so starstruck I lost my phone in France! She groaned. “Oh my fucking god!”

After a few deep breaths with her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose, she composed herself, “We need to play the sound. Either it’s here and we’ll find it. Or - worst case scenario - it sounds and Harry Styles realizes he has my phone and we go from there… Well, I guess in the worst case scenario some jerk stole it and they turn it off and sell it for parts, but I just don’t think that’s what happened.” She bites her lip and stares at her mom, who hesitantly raises her finger to press the button that sets off the alarm on the lost phone. She clicks it after an overly dramatic pause. Y/N prays to anyone who’s willing to listen, she says in her mind, please sound the phone in here. Life would be so much simpler if it worked out the way we wanted. But, in place of the annoying echoing ring of the Find My iPhone tone there is only silence. At least there’s silence in the little shop in Bayeux.

-

In a tiny taxi cab that was headed to a small chateau outside of the town of Bayeux, the phone sounds and causes Harry to furrow his brows. He was sure he had his phone on ‘do not disturb’, but he pulls it out anyway to see why it’s making this annoying sound. What he pulls out of his coat pocket is not his phone he realizes immediately.

“Shit,” he says under his breath, still loud enough for Mitch to look over from the opposite passenger seat.

“What?”

“This isn’t my phone.”

“What?”

Harry rolls his eyes at Mitch’s repeated question and opens up his purse digging out his actual phone and holds up his and the one he had apparently stolen.

“Oh, yeah, that’s not your phone. That’s not good.”

Harry huffs as he turns the unknown phone over in his hand, the screen was a scene of a city he didn’t actually recognize - San Francisco maybe - the lavender silicone case is smooth in his hand and he notices a little sticker, it’s of Y/N and two other women. His eyes widen at it and it makes a little more sense to him. He hadn’t really stolen a phone, he just forgot to give it back. It wasn’t much better, but it was how he was going to comfort himself. Dropping his own phone in his lap, he runs his hand through his hair, rings slightly tugging at his mused curls. Then he turns the sticker to show Mitch, “It’s that girl we met, it’s her phone.”

“You stole her phone,” Mitch states. Voice deadpan and eyes boring into Harry’s.

“No!” Harry defends, but quickly slumps, “I mean, technically? Yes...But-” Mitch’s laughter cuts him off. “You’re an idiot, Harry, y’know that?”

-

“I feel like I’m on punk’d right now…” Y/N grumbles as it becomes clear that the phone is not in this shop. “If this is punk’d, at least my phone’s not actually gone,” she says to no one really. Her mom is pacing the store and stops to look at her daughter, “This is most definitely not punk’d for so many reasons, dear. Mainly because the show got canceled but also because we are in Bayeux, France not Malibu.”

“Fuck…”

She walks out of the shop, barely paying a glance to the shop keeper this time, her usual kind demeanor nowhere to be found under the piles of distress and anxiety plaguing her body.

Back out on the street she looks around, again hoping that with any luck Harry is still around and will come running up to her to give her back her phone. Again, no such luck.

“What the fuck am I going to do?” She looks to her mom helplessly, her arms flapping by her sides, defeated.

-

“What the fuck am I going to do?” Harry asks as they get out of the taxi, glancing at the purple phone in his hand.

Mitch shrugs, “Hope she has her location on?”

“Then she’s going to come here...But wouldn’t she have tried to track it first instead of playing the sound?”

“Dude, I don’t know.You can try to unlock it and find her mom’s number, get in contact with them.” Mitch sighs as they walk through the front door. “Or we can go back to town, see if they’re still there? Did you get her last name? You could find her on social media maybe?”  

“I feel terrible...She was so nice.” Harry throws his bags down on the entryway couch and begins to pace, Y/N’s phone never leaving his hand. “Could go back into town tomorrow, maybe we’ll run into each other again.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Mitch sits and runs a hand through his hair, “Just calm down, right now, Harry. There’s not much else you can do.”

He’s right and Harry tries to not fixate on the phone, but he fiddles with it for the rest of the day. He doesn’t let it leave his sight and sets it beside his bed when he gets ready to go to sleep. As he shifts in the bed, unable to fall asleep he takes the phone and begins trying to unlock it, guessing random numbers and failing miserably. Eventually, he decides he should go to bed and drifts off into an uncomfortable sleep.

-

After being unsuccessful in town, Y/N and her mom went back to the little villa they were staying at on the outskirts of Bayeux. It was located next to some vineyards that the villa co-owned with the private chateau that sat on the other side of the vines. It was beautiful and she had been so excited to be staying there. But after the events of today, she was not in the mood to join the rest of her family for dinner among the grapes. She lays on her bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering how she had been so stupid to forget to ask for her phone back.

In the middle of the night, she wakes up in a cold sweat. She’s still in the clothes she had worn out and was laying on top of her covers at the end of her bed. All the windows of the room were closed and her shades weren’t drawn. Groggily, she rose from her uncomfortable position and changed. Moving to the window to let some air in she sees the lights flickering in a room of the private chateau across the way. She wondered why someone would willingly be up at this hour, even though she was unsure exactly what time it was without her phone. Her phone. That’s what had woken her up. She had dreamt that her mom had called her phone and the frog from the Frog and the Toad stories had picked it up. That was ridiculous, of course, but the idea to call her phone instead of just pinging it was solid. If Harry still had it, then he could pick up and they could figure out how to meet up. She decided she’d have to do that at a reasonable hour, however and moved on, opening her windows and closing the sheer shades, before getting under her covers to sleep.

-

Y/N wakes up early the next morning. Her sleep a restless one. Padding down the hall to her parent’s room, she knocks solemnly. She was far from a morning person and it was much to her mother’s surprise to see her standing in the hallway when she opened the door.

“Hey..” her voice catches in her throat, scratchy from lack of use in the night.

“Good morning, sunshine,” her mother laughs slightly, but Y/N only gives her an unamused look and walks into her room immediately searching for her mom’s phone.

“Need to use your phone, gonna call my phone,” she mutters, none of her thoughts being coherent sentences.

“Y/N, it’s 7 am. You’re going to call Harry Styles at 7 am? With your morning voice?”

Her eyes narrow and her lips form a straight line one her face, clearly not amused by her mother’s questions. Even if she knew her mom was right. She clears her throat and rolls her eyes at her mom, who is moving around the room beginning to get ready for the day as her daughter sits on the rumpled bed. Y/N’s father had already gone out to breakfast in the main area of the villa.

“Fine,” she slides off the bed when she realizes her mom isn’t offering her any more words of wisdom. “I’ll get ready for the day and then I will call my phone.”

Pattering back to her room, she slowly begins to dress and liven herself up for the day. Her hands instinctively reach out to her bedside table to pick up her phone to turn some music on, but of course she’s greeted with nothing. She groans loudly, “Of. Fucking. Course.” Shaking her head, she moves to take fresh clothes out of her suitcase.

Exiting her room again, this time far more awake, she walks down the hallway in a babydoll style top that read “Don’t play with my heart” with little girls playing racquetball with a red heart emblazoned over her chest and white jean floods. Her feet were covered in red high top converse today, matching the color of the small heart on her shirt. She liked the contrast of the white pants and the bright red of the shoes and she smiled to herself as she walked confidently into the breakfast area.

Her entire family was sitting around one of the tables, sipping coffee and eating pastries, it was now around 8:45 - a slightly more acceptable part of the day. They were all early risers, especially in comparison to her, and her older sister looks at her curiously. “What are you doing up so early, kid?” Y/N leans down to grab a slice of a peach from her brother’s place, which earns her a slight yelp of protest. She rolls her eyes at her sister and stalks off to the buffet, knowing she’s made her presence known enough.

“Can I borrow your phone now?” Y/N says after finishing a small danish and the lukewarm coffee that was at their table when she arrived. Her mother finally nods and hands it over. As Y/N grabs it, she’s already halfway out the doors that lead into the backyard of the villa. 

She stands on the grass that goes for a few feet before a hedge that separates the villa ground with the vineyard. Flipping through the contacts, she settles on hers and sighs, trying to calm her nerves. Her free hand ghosts over her hair and she uses one foot to step lightly on the heel of the other shoe. Please pick up, she sends out a prayer once again. Her last twenty-four hours seemed to consist of dreams, hopes, and prayers and she was starting to realize that she didn’t particularly like any of them. Biting her lip, she raises her phone up to her ear and gets her automatic voice message. Realizing she has her phone on ‘do not disturb’, she immediately rings herself again, knowing that it will go through this time.

-

Harry strolls out of his bathroom and widens his eyes when he hears a buzzing hear his bed. Seeing it’s Y/N’s phone he grabs it quickly and furrows his brow at the contact. Her mother’s name, but he doesn’t know that. To him it’s just a person’s name, it could be anyone she knew. Still, he thought about the odds of it being just one of her friends or her calling from someone else’s phone and decided to risk it.

“Hello?”

“Thank fucking God!” is all he hears and he’s pretty sure it’s Y/N’s voice.

“Y/N?” He laughs and takes a seat on his bed, staring out his window that opened to the vineyard.

“Yes! Harry? Hi!” She’s ecstatic that anyone picked up at all, bouncing up and down on the other side of the phone. She mutters to herself, once again, “Thank fucking God.”

“Who’s phone are you calling from?”

“Oh, my mom’s,” she says, calming down slightly as she begins to walk around the grass, unable to contain the renewed sense of energy she has.

“You don’t keep her in your contacts as ‘mum’? I almost didn’t pick up.” He tilts his head, trying to think of anyone else he knew who kept their mother’s contact as the actual name rather than ‘mum’ or some other variant of it.

“Well, thanks for picking up,” she laughs at his words, bringing her pacing to a stop to stare at the chateau across the way. “It’s really not that weird,” she insists, her arm going to cradle the elbow of the arm that holds the phone to her ear. “I don’t think any of my siblings have her as ‘mom’ in their contacts.”  

“I think it’s a little weird. I’m going to have to start asking people what they’ve got their mum down as in their phones. You’ve got me intrigued,” he muses, only slightly teasing. A smile curves onto his face as he hears her huff over the phone, obviously not liking his ribbing.

“So...you have my phone,” she changes the subject.

“Yes…” he scratches his head and she swears she could hear him awkwardly rubbing at his hair. “Sorry ‘bout that. Guess I forgot to give it back.”

“Not entirely your fault, I probably should have asked for it back. It was like twenty minutes before I even realized I didn’t have it and that was only really thanks to my mom.” She tries to not make him feel bad, because she honestly felt responsible for the mess up.

“Yeah, but I probably wouldn’t’ve realized till I got back to my place and pulled out one phone from my pocket and another one from my bag if you hadn’t tried the ‘find my iphone’ thing.”

“Oh my god, was it loud!? Did you have a hard time shutting it off?” She rushes as all the possible ways she might have annoyed Harry yesterday run through her mind.

“No, no, it was fine,” he reassures her, laughing lightly, standing up now and beginning to pace in front of his window. “Felt like a proper dick, though. Never in my life have I forgotten to give someone their phone back.” He sighs and stops in front of the window, deciding to open it for some fresh air.

Her gaze flits to a movement on the second floor of the chateau, someone opening up their window apparently. The long paned windows flip open and the little sheer curtains flutter in the slight morning breeze.

“So are you still in Bayeux?” Harry asks, hoping her answer is ‘yes’ as he takes in a deep breath of the air from outside.

“Yeah. Are you still here?” She asks timidly, moving her gaze down to her shoes bright red sticking out of the green grass. “Because that will make getting my phone back much easier,” she adds, clarifying that it’s not supposed to be a personal question, just simply a logistical one. Even if her heart skips a beat at the thought of seeing Harry again.

“Yes, I am. Well...just outside the town actually.”

“You don’t say? I’m staying just outside of town, too. At a little villa located next to a vineyard,” She looks around her surroundings again, walking the length of the garden once more. A movement from the same room that had opened their windows at the chateau catching her eye once again. A man, with his arm placed on the sill, leaning out slightly.

“You’re not wearing red shoes by any chance?” He smiles and she can hear the way it affects his words. Looking out of the window, he eyes the villa and the person who was pacing around its patio, seemingly on the phone.

Her brows raise and she stops in her tracks. “Did you just open your window?”

The only response from Harry that she hears is a soft chuckle. But, more importantly, the man in the chateau is waving to her. She grins and waves her free hand over her head, doing a slight jump to make sure he sees her. His laughter only grows, crackling slightly over the telephone line.

“What are the odds?” She breathes out after a moment. Her waving hand fell to her side and she looked at the figure in the window. It wasn’t exactly clear to her that it was Harry, but the way the man was hunched was enough to convince her. She vaguely sees him shake his head in agreement at the serendipitous nature of their current situation.

“Have you had a chance to dine in the vineyard yet?” Harry bites his lip after he asks the question, feeling a little more confident in his flirtation over the phone.

“I have - only once for dinner. Last night I was so stressed I couldn’t eat.”

“What do you think about lunch in the vineyard?” He’s smiling now, the charm dripping in every word he says. His accent is music to her ears and she thinks how could she ever say no to that offer.  

“I don’t know...lunch with my phone thief?” She imitates an unsure tone. Her tease is lighthearted and Harry huffs, playfully indignant.

“As an apology for keeping your phone by mistake,” he adds, emphasizing the ‘by mistake’ part.

“As long as I can get my phone back, I’m up for anything you want,”  She laughs, but then blushes at the innuendo that could be found in her words. Harry hears it and an amused look spreads across his face, the definition of anything running through his mind as well as his assured belief that Y/N did not mean what she had just implied. “I mean! Not anything, I just...Lunch in the vineyard would be lovely, Harry.” She sighs, a hand trailing down her face at her complete foolishness.

“Great. How does one o’clock sound?” He moves on from her slip, not wanting to embarrass her anymore. Especially when he was the one to cause this entire situation.

“Sounds smashing, Mr. Thief,” She breathes out, but laughs when she hears Harry groan.

“You’re something else, missy.”

“I know.” She rolls her eyes, trying to contain her giggles at their playful back and forth.

“See you at one.” He says finally.

“See you at one.” She echoes, continuing to watch him in the window. Neither of them seem to move to hang up. She’s stood in place and so is he, his head hanging out of the window now, resting himself on his arm. It’s just their breathing exchanging over the line and some gusts of wind crackling the connection every so often.

“Are you going to hang up?” She whispers, after a minute of complete silence, her voice coming out impossibly small.

“Thought you would’ve by now.”

“I don’t know why I can’t.” She admits, but she just feels weird hanging up on him even if they have plans to see each other later.

“Me neither.” His response causes her to tilt her head in confusion. Why would he have trouble hanging up on her?

“Okay.”

Then, it’s quiet again. Both of them shifting their bodies around, yet still managing to stay on the line. Y/N is the one who hangs up the phone after hearing Harry’s breath shake slightly, like he’s steeling himself to actually hang up. She realizes that while she doesn’t want to hang up on him, she’d rather do it than have him hang up on her. If that made any sense. She wasn’t sure, but the way he had invited her to lunch, it just felt like he had shifted their relationship from fan and star to something else. Something she didn’t fully grasp, but whatever it was made her stomach flip.

-

She informed her family that she wouldn’t be going out with them today and that she was getting her phone back, but not that she would be having lunch with Harry. She had no idea what they would think about it, but she didn’t want to give them the chance to inform her.

Walking through the vineyards, she watches the slight dust from the dirt gather on her shoes, the red converse. She had settled on what she had been wearing originally after changing her outfit upwards of twenty times. Best to be casual, she thought, like it was no big deal that she was about to dine with a musician whom she loved.

There was only one table on this side of the vineyard, it was the part owned by the chateau, a couple rows from where the villa had their tables. The simple cream tablecloth laid across the wooden table that had two matching wooden chairs with cream cushions placed around it. On top of the table was a picnic basket and a bottle of red wine, made from the grapes in the vineyard. And in one of the chairs sat Harry. Big square green glasses perched on his nose as he looked up at the sky. Y/N takes in his appearance, his cream shirt with stitched patterns on it, half unbuttoned to grant a full view of his swallows and butterfly as well as baggy light wash ripped jeans and dirty white vans. His shirt almost matches the tablecloth, but she’s not sure if he would take that as a compliment.

He hadn’t noticed her presence and he rubs his lips together, smoothing the lip balm he had applied before settling outside.

“Mr. thief?” She touches lightly on his shoulder, similar to how she had done yesterday. His head shoots up and he readjusts in his chair, to sit up slightly more upright. A smile curves onto his face and he moves his glasses up into his hair, pushing his curls back behind them.

“Y/N,” he drags out her name, toying with the sound of it. His eyes flit over her figure, taking in her outfit but quickly run back to her beautiful face. He motions for her to take a seat and she complies.

“The red shoes,” he smiles, glancing at her shoes. She laughs and does a little click of her heels.

“Can’t believe my phone was less than a mile away from me last night.”

“Oh! Your phone!” Harry’s eyes widened, “I forgot it in my room!”

Y/N laughs, her smile spreading on her face immediately, but her face falls when she sees Harry isn’t laughing. “You can’t be serious.” Harry says nothing, a blush creeping up his neck. “Harry…” she doesn’t know what else to say, scratching at the back of her head. “I guess stars really are just like us, complete space cadets.”

“I’m sorry! I was..distracted.”

She can’t keep herself from laughing and she places her hand over Harry’s on the table, trying to calm him down. “No worries, seriously, I was just teasing you. I’ve gone this long without my phone, an hour or so more won’t kill me.”

He smiles sheepishly, mentally kicking himself for how foolish he had made himself look. “Sorry ‘bout that. Seems like I’m really trying to keep your phone, doesn’t it?”

“Kind of...but I don’t think there’s anything in particular on there that you’d really be interested in having access to.”

He grabs the bottle of wine and takes the temporary cork off, he had previously uncorked it before Y/N had arrived. He pours the wine and then quirks a brow towards her. “I’m sure you’ve got some funny notes on there, you’re hilarious.”

She scoffs as his look is serious. Picking her glass up, she clinks it with Harry’s and takes a sip. She hums at the taste, judging the flavor and deeming it good. He watches her as she makes her silent decision and smirks at the way she smiles to herself. Coming back to the conversation she makes eye contact with Harry as she sets the glass down and leans back in her chair.

“You barely know me.” A coy smile flits across her features now. Harry’s heart skips a beat at her tone. He had been expecting some lighthearted quip, but this held something far more intense. It’s still teasing, but it’s far closer to flirting than friendly joking.

He begins to unpack the basket and place food onto the table, eyes constantly flickering between his task and Y/N. Her eyes are fixated on his hands, the way they flex and move and the way his rinks clink against the containers he’s moving around.

“Then tell me about yourself.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything.” He finishes placing the food on the table and removes the basket from the table so there’s nothing obstructing their view of each other.

“Very specific,” she takes a sip of her wine again, refraining from rolling her eyes. It was easy to talk to Harry, like they had been friends forever.

Harry lets out one of his loud single laughs. “See! You’re hilarious.” His compliment makes her finally roll her eyes playfully. Instead of responding, she puts some food onto the plate in front of her and takes a bite of a peach slide she had grabbed.

“You’re a flirt,” she says finally, her smile spreading across her face.

“That’s a fact ‘bout me not you, love.”

She bites her lip. For being extremely forgetful, Harry was also extremely charming. “Well, I’m not a fan of flirts.”

“I thought you said you were a massive fan yesterday?” He tilts his head to the side and looks at her with an inviting look in his eye, obviously trying to goad her.

She let out a gasp at his words and began to blush. His stare felt like a second sun boring straight into her, its heat traveling directly to her core. Trying to maintain her collected appearance that she had played so well yesterday, she takes a breath and another sip of wine. The liquid ran down her throat, soothing her. Shaking her head she says, “You know what I meant.”

Biting a piece of bread, Harry nods and shoots her a wink. Her legs instinctively shift together. Finishing his chewing, he speaks up, “Okay, but seriously, tell me more about yourself.”

They settle in, getting more serious and having an actual conversation rather than flirty comments shot back and forth. By the end of the bottle of wine, Harry and Y/N are cackling about some story she’s told about her first solo trip to Amsterdam and all the trouble she got into being a twenty year old college student with easy legal access to weed.

“I remember the first time I went to Amsterdam with the band,” Harry easily segways into his own story and she perks at the words ‘the band’. After all the fun they had been having talking and getting to know each other, the idea that Harry was a famous musician had left her mind completely. For the last forty-five minutes he had just been a really nice guy who was treating her to lunch.

She looks at him expectantly. “It was crazy cool, I think I was only seventeen then? But everyone else was over 18 so they bought us a bunch of pot and we smoked it and got high off our asses. Can barely remember what we talked about, but we definitely thought it was the smartest shit ever”

“Do you ever miss that?”

He finishes off his last bit of wine, “Being young and dumb?”

“No, the, like, relationship you had with them. I don’t mean to pry, but I feel like with any close relationship, when you stop being together all the time...it’s never the same.”

Harry sighs, thinking over what you had said, now knowing it was rather serious and not just about being young. He runs a hand through his soft curls before starting his response. “Short answer is yes. But, y’know, they were my family for so long and that bond doesn’t go away, even if we go through rough patches. Like that part of my life is such an essential part of who I am, I could never throw it away or discount it. I don’t know if I miss it all of the time though. I really like who I am right now.”

She nods, finishing her wine now too. Her body is fuzzy and warm under the soft light of the afternoon. Sharing a bottle of wine was enough to make her tipsy, but she felt sober enough to carry on their serious conversation. “That’s good. It’s important to like who you are right now. It’s how you know you’re ready to be there for others.” She says thoughtfully and then adds, “I like who I am right now, too.”

Harry smiles at her, a calm expression maintaining on his face, and twists his rings on his fingers. “That’s good,” he echoes. “Do you want to go for a walk?” His voice is soft and of course she’s going to say yes.

Her response is to stand up from the table and begin putting things back into the picnic basket. Harry watches her for a moment, taking in the way she moves with so much elegance even when doing such a mundane task. He is honestly so happy that he had gotten to see her again. She had intrigued him yesterday, but he had just expected her to be one of those fleeting thoughts in his mind. Now he wasn’t so sure. He had a feeling she would live in his memory for far longer. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll come back later and grab it all.”

“You set this all up, the least I can do is clean up a little,” She looks up at him from her crouched position as she packs up the leftover food into the basket still on the ground. Her hair is slightly falling into her face and she reaches to push it behind her ear while they continue to look at one another. Harry takes his lower lip into his mouth as he continues to look at her, trying to convince himself she’s not the most beautiful woman he’s ever met.

As they walk between the grapes, they continue to talk, further investigating Y/N’s job aspirations and what Harry was planning on for his next few weeks of vacation. He leads them down a dirt path after they cross the street, moving away from both the villa and the chateau. The path has tall grass flanking its sides that pushes around in the cool summer breeze. She mentions the beautiful sound of the birds chirping and Harry agrees. They walk until they reach the small lake that’s about a ten minute walk from their respective current residences. It’s not a lake for swimming so there’s no one around, just more tall grass, some small trees, and the animals.

“It’s really so beautiful here.”

“I love it a lot, I’ve been coming down here every evening and just sitting alone for an hour or so,” Harry motions to the little wooden bench located beneath a shady tree. She looks at him questioningly, unsure if he means for them to sit. He takes her hand in response and leads them over to it. It’s right before the edge of the pond and if their legs were just a bit longer they could touch the feet into the water.

“It’s nice,” She says, turning her attention from the scenery to stare at Harry, who she finds is already looking at her. Their eyes meet and she bites her lip. He’s so close to her. Closer than they were in the shop yesterday and now their faces are on the same level. His glasses are still pushed into his curls and she decides to pluck them from his head and place them over her eyes instead. Harry protests, but she says smugly, “I’m putting them to better use than just sitting a top that head of yours. It’s quite bright out.”

Harry leans into her, extending his arm behind her and resting it on the back of the bench. She sighs peacefully, with her gaze now hidden behind the glasses. She returns her gaze out against the water and tries to shift closer to Harry casually. They stay silent, listening to the rest of the world moving around them. Soon she’s resting nestled into his side and his arm has moved from the bench to rest around her shoulders. She exhales in contentment, but neither of them have said anything for a while. They were okay with it, being held was enough. Her right hand goes up and threads with Harry’s that is hanging limply against her.

After a few more minutes of silence, Harry decides he wants to talk. “I like being around you.”

“I like being around you too, Harry. You’re different than I had expected.”

“Really?”

“Yeah..I mean there’s that sinister quote about how you should never meet your heroes. But still, you were even kinder than I expected and even though you stole my phone,” she pauses to laugh,”it kind of turned out to be a blessing in disguise because I got to see you again.”

“Thanks…” Harry sighs and she turns her face to gaze up at him. “Well, yeah, now I’m sorta glad I did take your phone. You’re really wonderful.” She smiles and he smiles just as wide.

But then her smile falters, suddenly remembering everything. It was like a self-fulfilling prophecy, she mentioned that thing about heroes and it all came crashing down around her. Yes, it was amazing to be around Harry and it was great that he had been so down to earth. But what she had just said was true too. He was her hero, he was famous and their lives didn’t connect at all. Just that one fleeting moment in the shop. If she hadn’t known him they would have never interacted. She had even been on her last legs of being in that store, she was just about to ask her mom to leave when Harry had walked through the door.

She sits up and drops her hand from his and he looks at her confused. “Did I say something wrong?” He asks, concerned. She stands up now and walks the short distance to the edge of the water, pushing his glasses on top of her head. He follows quickly, growing anxious as she stays silent. “I just..” she laughs in spite of herself, “I just feel really dumb right now.”

“What? Why?” Harry’s really confused now, she won’t meet his gaze as he faces her trying to figure out what just happened.

“I can’t believe I fooled myself into thinking for even a second this could ever be something more.” She turns to Harry finally, looking him directly in the eye, even though her eyes are prickling with tears. She’s angry with herself, not Harry. “You’re you and I’m just a fan at the end of the day. All of the flirting and touching, it can’t be anything more. At most, I’m a one night stand. And as great as that would be in the moment, I know how I feel about you and I know it would ruin me. I can’t be a fling for you, Harry. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” he grabs her arm, trying to comfort her, she shrugs him off. “You’re more than a fan to me, I thought that was obvious by now. You wouldn’t be some meaningless one night stand. When I say I like being around you, I mean I like you, Y/N.” His voice is strong yet soft. He needs to convince her that she can feel comfortable around him, but he sees the darkness in her eyes, how scared she is of being hurt.

“I don’t fit into your life, Harry.” She shakes her head, moving her hands more as she grows more anxious.

“That’s not true. You told me you want to move to England, we could see each other there and see if this was anything.”

She knows he’s right, that it was possible, but she had worked herself up so much now that she had a hard time believing it. She takes a deep breath, “Just answer me this. Would you have given me a second glance if I hadn’t come up to you in that shop yesterday? Or a second thought if there hadn’t been the phone mishap?”

Harry is taken aback. Her words had nothing to do with what he had just said. He had thought his solution was actually really great, a plan he had been meaning to tell her if the rest of the day had gone accordingly, which it didn’t seem to be doing. He pauses and if Y/N was anymore distraught that would have been her cue to leave. Thankfully, she had grounded herself enough in the situation to not let her hot head get in the way of this conversation.

“That’s a pretty unfair question, Y/N. It’s not like I’m constantly looking for someone to fancy.”

“Just answer the questions.”

“Probably not, about the first one, I hadn’t even noticed anyone in the shop before you came up to me. I was off in my own world.” She nods, taking his words into account. He continues, “But yes, about the second one, I thought about you in the car ride home before your phone even rang. Like I said, I like you.”

“Okay.” She softens.

“That’s it?”

“I mean you’re right. We could see each other in London and see if this is something. I just had to know about the other stuff, it was racing through my mind and I wouldn’t get over it unless you gave me an answer.”

“Oh, so can I kiss you?” His words broke the uncomfortable tension that had surrounded them.

“You still want to?” Her voice is small and unsure. The most nervous she had been around Harry was right now.  

“I want to do so much more than that, darling, you have no idea.” He cups her cheek and wraps an arm around her waist. She giggles in nervous anticipation. Then his lips gently push onto hers and she sighs into the kiss. At the edge of the lake, the pair of them taste each other for the first time. Tongues begin licking into each other’s mouths and the kiss becomes breathless. Her hands are at the base of his neck, tugging him closer to her while he tightens his grasp around her waist. She moans slightly when Harry nips at her lower lip and he smirks, happy with the sound she makes.

“We should probably go get my phone.” Harry whimpers at her words.

“What?” Harry is once again confused by the woman before him, who had now pulled from their kiss.

“My phone is in your room…” She trails off and then eyes widen and he giggles excitedly. Eventually realizing what she’s implying.

“Yes! Yes, we should go do that. Get your phone. In my room. Sounds like a good idea. Mhmm.” He pecks her lips between each sentence.

“You’re so weird,” she laughs and brings down his shades onto her face once again. He pulls her into his side and kisses the top of her head as they begin their walk back to the chateau.

“Do you want your phone or not?”

[baepsaesbae]

Eclipse

Pairing— Day Fairy!Hoseok x Night fairy!reader    

Genre— SMUT, fae au, angst, idiots to lovers

Warnings— Oral (F receiving), nipple play, explicit unprotected sex, hair pulling, both praise and slight derogatory dirty talk bc I can’t make up my mind, slight swearing

Word Count— 3.3k  

Summary— The summer solstice is here and it’s time to celebrate. Your favorite part of the solstice is that you get to see Hoseok, or rather, the love of your life. It’s too bad you haven’t told him how you really felt, even though it has been centuries. Maybe this year will be different. 

A/N— This fic is part of The Fabled Collab hosted by @joontopia, @kimtaehyunq, and @whipped-for-kpop-fics. Hoseok is my sunshine, so I just had to write about him! Thank you to @s0seo and @taegularities for giving me motivation to write. Lastly, huge shoutout to Eden from @thebiasrekkers​ for making this awesome banner for me! As always, let me know how you guys like the fic! My askbox is always open <3

Fae clans have many holidays and rituals, but solstices are by far the most celebrated. Solstices mark the pivotal event that shifts the seasonal responsibilities between the sun and moon clans. The summer and winter solstice are always the biggest events of the year, with about a week of festivities leading up to the final event. 

Sweat ran down your spine as the sun beat down on you. You’ve been holding up a stupid banner for what felt like an eternity.

“Okay wait, you’re gonna hate me but I think we should put it back to where we originally had it,” Sunghoon said with furrowed brows.

“That’s it. We’ve been doing this all morning. Figure this out yourself,” you angrily threw down the banner and stormed off before Sunghoon had the chance to yell at you.

You ignored the friendly calls from other fae that were setting up decor nearby. It was way past your bedtime. Cranky and drenched in sweat, you were definitely not a happy night fairy. Heading straight to the pond, you derobed and found comfort in the cool waters that  washed away your stress instantly. You gazed up at the blue sky while floating on your back. The day truly was beautiful, you couldn’t deny that. However, nighttime was better in your very much biased opinion. The dark sky littered with countless stars that glittered like diamonds was an unbeatable sight. 

“Hey there sunshine!” a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts. You dipped back into the water and turned to the source of the sound.

“Hey there, perv. Care to join me?” you beckoned.

“I wish I could, but I need to go finalize some plans for the handoff ceremony--”

“It’s the same EVERY year. C’mon Hobi, you don’t need to go,” you whined.

“I’ll meet you back here at sunset, how does that sound?” he tried to appease you.

“Midnight. I’m already exhausted, I don’t wanna wake up early,” you blew raspberries into the pond.

“That’s fair. I’ll see you then okay?” Hoseok waved before flying off.

On top of parties filled with indulgences that would blow the mind of any feeble human, Hoseok was the added bonus that made you eager for each solstice. Admittedly, you two have had some sort of flirtationship going on for the past few centuries. Your friends always teased you about how madly head over heels you were for him. As much as you wanted to believe that he loved you in the same way, something always felt off.  

Hoseok always reciprocated your flirtatious advances, but it felt more like a game between friends rather than something substantial. You’ve even observed his interactions with other fairies, and it didn’t seem like he gave you any special treatment. He was simply a good friendly guy that everyone loved, but not the way that you loved him. 

You were dying to know how he truly felt about you. All these years of playful banter had been fun, but they had also been simultaneously eating away at you. There’s no way he doesn’t know that you love him. At the same time, what if he thinks you’re just a good friend? You needed to know for sure, and you intended to confront him about it at midnight.

“Good evening,” you greeted Hoseok shyly as you approached the pond’s bank. 

“Good day to you sunshine,” Hoseok called back as he kicked at the water.

“How’d the meeting go?” you asked.

“Boring as always. You’re right, it’s the same every year. But the elders still want to go over everything again to ensure that the ceremony is perfect,” Hoseok sighed.

“Thanks for coming to hangout with me even though you’re so busy,” you said, suddenly feeling guilty.

“Are you kidding? I’ve been looking forward to this all day! You’re the perfect person to unwind with after a long day,” Hoseok smiled. There it was. The radiant smile you fell for the first time you ever met him. 

“You sure I’m the perfect person for that? What do you do when you’re back in your own land surrounded by other day fae?” you prodded, hoping to steer the conversation onto the ‘what are we’ topic. 

“I have my friends there for sure, and I appreciate them too. But it’s different with you. Maybe because I can only hangout with you twice a year. You’re like my super special friend, yaknow?” Hoseok tried to explain. 

“Uh yeah, for sure. Like a special playdate kind of thing huh?” you tried to hide your hurt feelings.

“Exactly! You get it. It’s like you’re my favorite dessert that I can only have twice a year,” Hoseok nodded.

“Right…” you whispered softly to yourself. You spent the rest of the night listening to the unfruitful discussions Hoseok had during his meetings. All the excitement over the festival had drained from you. Now, you just wanted it to be over so you can go sulk in peace. 

“You’re awfully quiet,” Hoseok observed, “You haven’t interjected once about how stupid our traditions are or how you’re looking forward to having long nights again.”

“Hm? Oh yeah, I’m just tired. Sunghoon really worked me to the bone yesterday, that damn day fairy,” you faked a yawn.

“Hey, be nice! Wasn’t it you who volunteered to help us anyway?” Hoseok shook his head.

‘Yeah, because I thought I’d be able to work with you,’ you thought.

“It was a bizarre streak of altruism, that’s all,” you shrugged. 

“Nah, I know you’re a kind fairy deep down!” Hoseok playfully nudged your shoulder. Normally you would welcome this type of physical affection, but for right now it served as a painful reminder that you were merely seen as a buddy. 

You actively avoided Hoseok for the remainder of the week, counting down the hours to when it would finally all be over. You made up some lame excuse to not hangout with Hoseok every time he approached you. He must have caught on by the final day, either that or he was extremely busy. Afterall, he was the MC for the entire ordeal. 

Apparently, your abrasive reputation preceded you because no one wanted your help with anything. As soon as they saw you coming, they would randomly find themselves very preoccupied with something that made them too busy to talk to you. The only person who would put you to work was Sunghoon, who was one of Hoseok’s best friends. You wondered why he was always so nice to you even when you complained the entire time you helped him.

“That’s the last table! They all look great, thanks for helping with the set up,” Sunghoon gave you a thumbs up.

“You know it’s pointless setting up all these tables. Most of the fairies are just gonna be dancing or fucking all night long, no one is gonna be sitting down,” you said.

“Are you gonna be one of the fairies partying?” Sunghoon inquired.

“Definitely not,” you answered curtly.

“Then I’m happy at least one of these tables will be utilized,” Sunghoon nodded, “Try to enjoy yourself tonight okay?”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes.

The entire forest seemed to come alive that night. The trees swayed with the enchanting music while cheers of merriment erupted around the party scene. You sat alone at a mushroom table with your third (or was it fourth?) cup of berry wine. You glared at the fairies who had lost themselves to their pleasures, whether it be the wine or the toadstools, or perhaps even both. Fairies who had given into their more lustful urges could be seen on the outskirts of the dance floor, some in the innocent stages of kissing and others entangled full fledged fornication. Scoffing at the obscene orgy, you stumbled off to get another cup of wine. Even though you weren’t really participating, you had to admit that fairies knew how to throw a party. 

“Hey ___, I noticed you’ve been by yourself the whole evening. Want some company?” someone asked behind you as you filled up your mug to the brim. You turned to see two Sunghoons merge to become one hazy Sunghoon in the blink of an eye. 

“F-ffuck off Sunghoon,” you slurred.

“I wanted to thank you for all the hard work you did for this year’s summer solstice,” Sunghoon continued, unfazed by your harshness, “Wanna dance to celebrate?”

“Nope,” you answered as you pushed him aside.

“Yeah she seemed pretty pissed dude,” Sunghoon said while taking a large swig.

“At you or in general?” Hoseok inquired.

“Dunno man, she’s always been like that. However, she seemed more aggravated than usual, which is hard to imagine,” Sunghoon chuckled, “Did you do something to her?”

“No! I’ve been replaying everything we talked about at the pond but everything seemed fine! I even told her that she was my super special friend and---oh shit,” Hoseok’s face fell.

“Idiot,” Sunghoon tsked. 

Both fae clans had gathered by the main stage, intently listening to the same speeches that the clan leaders have spoken for centuries. You watched apathetically as the everlasting flame was being formally handed over. The crowd roared as the flame changed from a deep crimson red to an icy silver color with a blue hue, signifying that the solstice had come to pass. 

If the festival wasn’t wild before, it had only gotten more out of hand after the official ceremony. Seeing the other fairies go wild in every sense of the word made you nauseous. The noise level intensified as you watched your fairy brethren engage in rather promiscuous activities. Someone even beckoned for you to join in the fun, but you just walked away. The only person you wanted to have that kind of fun with was Hoseok. It infuriated you that your thoughts always drifted to him. You filled up your cup one last time and walked away from the ruckus, towards an empty grove. Hopefully you would be able to wallow in self pity in peace there. 

The stars twinkled above you, and dim moonlight speckled the ground around you as it shone through the trees. You could still hear the party, but it was much fainter now and served as nice background noise to keep you from drowning in your thoughts. With a deep exhale, you fought to hold back tears. You felt so foolish. Too many years have been wasted in vain for an unrequited love that you should have seen coming. It was so stupid of you to hold onto a sliver of hope that Hoseok would like you back. 

“The party is that way,” a familiar voice called out to you.

“Then why aren’t you there?” you didn’t try to mask the annoyance in your voice.

“I saw you walk away, I wanted to check up on you.”

“Why the fuck would you even care?” you sat up and hissed.

“Why are you being so hostile? You’re the one who has been avoiding me all week!” Hoseok raised his voice.

“I’m sure you didn’t have much time to spend with me anyway,” you huffed.

“That’s not true. I spent every moment of my free time looking for you, only for you to turn me away. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Hoseok calmed down.

“Fine. I’m in love with you, okay? How fucking embarrassing. It hurt when you said that I was your super best friend or whatever. Seeing you afterward just reminded me of how dumb I am,” you couldn’t make eye contact with him.

“Oh sunshine, I’m the idiot. I shouldn’t have said that. You’re my special friend because I like you too. I wanted to spend every second with you this week. I didn’t mean to hurt you like that, I’m so sorry ____,” Hoseok got down on his knees and pulled you in for a hug. You were stunned.

“Why didn’t you say anything sooner then!” you pushed him off.

“I thought it was obvious from the way we flirted!” he argued. 

“You’re nice to everyone, it was hard for me to tell,” you pouted.

“My apologies for not being a sourpuss like you,” Hoseok laughed.

“So...what now? It wasn’t really a romantic confession but I guess our feelings are out in the open now,” you whispered as you leaned against him.

Suddenly, Hoseok pushed you back to the ground, straddling your hips. His dark hair nearly covered his eyes as he looked down at you. He was beyond beautiful, his white iridescent wings glittered ethereally in the moonlight. 

“Remember when I said you’re like a dessert I can only have twice a year? I’d like to make that a reality,” Hobi smirked. He bent over to kiss you. It was soft at first, his plush lips pressing up against yours. He gently cupped your face with one hand while the other wandered to your chest, undoing your blouse. Lust overtook the both of you as the kiss deepened and Hoseok fondled your breasts. You let out a small gasp as he played with your nipples, rolling them between his fingers.  

“Spread those legs for me, sunshine,” he demanded.

You complied, slowly exposing yourself to him. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him while in such a compromising position. Hoseok gingerly kissed a trail along your inner thighs towards your core. His hot breath against your pussy made you squirm under him in anticipation.

“So impatient,” he chuckled, “Let’s play a game. You have to make eye contact with me while I eat you out. Every time you look away, I stop.”

“You’re evil,” you huffed before reluctantly looking at the beautiful being perched between your legs. 

“That’s my girl,” he purred approvingly before spreading your folds with his fingers. His eyes darkened with lust as you watched him lick tantalizingly slow stripes. He could feel your need for more, so he moved up to focus on your clit, giving it special attention as his tongue swirled around it. 

You tangled your fingers into his hair, gripping him tighter as he licked your clit faster. All your composure was lost as you looked down at him with pleading eyes.

“What is it? Need more?” Hoseok teased as his fingers traced your entrance.

“Please,” you whimpered.

“Please what?” Hoseok feigned ignorance

“Please touch me,” you said softly.

“We need to work on your begging, but you’re so adorable I can’t say no,” Hobi dove back into stimulating your clit as he slipped a finger inside of you. He smirked at how easily he went in, and immediately added a second finger. The new feeling had you throwing your head back as he grazed your g-spot. Right as things began to feel good, he retracted everything.

“Hobi!” you cried out in frustration.

“You looked away. Remember the rules to our little game?” Hoseok chided. You glared down at him as he immediately picked up where he left off, not giving you time to readjust. Fighting back the urge to close your eyes, soft moans escaped from your lips.

“Ready to cum, my dear ___?” he asked sweetly as his fingers dipped to directly attack your g-spot.

There was no time to give a proper response. Your back arched and your toes curled up as your orgasm overwhelmed you. Drenched in your juices, Hoseok glistened under the moonlight.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Hoseok praised, “But I’m not finished with you yet,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

He unbuckled his trousers, releasing the monster that dangled between his legs. You willingly spread your legs for him, eager for more.

“So needy, you haven’t had enough yet?” Hoseok tsked as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds.

Finally, Hoseok began to bury himself into you. He took his time, relishing how your warm walls squeezed him. You closed your eyes in ecstasy, focusing on feeling every inch of him. Once he bottomed out, you wrapped your legs around him in an attempt to bring him impossibly closer. The dark lust that swam in his eyes broke for a second, replaced by the warm smile that made you fall in love with him in the first place. He bent down to kiss you, and you happily reciprocated. 

Hoseok moved his hips slowly as he fucked you at a deep yet gentle pace. Mouths still colliding, you shyly licked at his lips. Taking your hint, Hoseok’s tongue met yours. As the kisses deepened with more saliva being interchanged, Hoseok’s thrusts became harsher.    

“You’re so fucking sexy. Lemme see that ass baby,” Hoseok growled as he flipped you over.

He smacked your ass twice and watched it jiggle in awe before placing a firm grip on your hips. Almost animalistically, he bucked into you. Your body jolted forward with each thrust. You had never been fucked this hard before, and it was heavenly. Hoseok’s control over his body movement was insane. Your moans grew louder as his hips continuously rolled into you. 

One of Hoseok’s hands formed a tight grip on your hair, roughly bringing your head up off the ground. You couldn’t stop your wanton moans from filling the open air. 

“H-Hoseok,” you cried out.

“What is it? Is it too much for you?” Hoseok cooed in your ear as he brought your head back even closer to him.

“Mmm-no,” was all you could make out.

“I knew you could take it all, such a good slut,” Hoseok praised as he let go of your hair.

Unable to hold yourself up, you immediately fell back onto your chest. Your fingernails dug into the dirt as you could feel another orgasm swelling up inside of you. 

“I’m gonna cum again,” you wailed out.

“I’m almost there, wait for me baby,” Hoseok instructed.

With perfect timing, Hoseok let out a guttural moan as he spilled his seed inside of you. Sounds of pleasure bounced around the grove as you came in unison. Hoseok’s cum dripped down the sides of your inner thighs when he pulled out. 

“How did I do, sunshine?” Hoseok asked jovially as you laid on the ground before him.

“You knocked me out. I don’t think I can move for a while,” you weakly answered with a smile.

“Not a problem, we can just stay here for a while, sunshine,” Hoseok laid down beside you, beckoning for you to rest atop his chest. 

“I like when you call me that,” you yawned.

“Sunshine?” Hoseok asked.

“Yeah, that. It makes me feel special,” you nodded.

“Is that so? I’m glad it makes you feel special, because you are. You’ve always been the spunky night fairy that everyone knows but is too afraid to approach,” Hoseok laughed.

“What! I am totally friendly! Just not to those who piss me off,” you defended, “Which...I guess is a lot of people so I suppose I see your point. What made you want to be my friend if everyone thought I’m scary?”

“You treated me like everyone else. It always felt like people put on a fake facade around me since I’m the chief’s son. They’re nice to me to try and curry favor with my father, or maybe flirt with me to try and gain some special sort of status. I don’t know. I’m just me,” Hoseok shrugged. 

“If it makes you feel any better, you’re my sunshine,” you hugged him.

“That makes me feel great. I’ll do my best to see you more than twice a year, okay?” he kissed your forehead.

“I guess I can clear my schedule and come over to visit you too,” you giggled, “Or maybe we can run away and make a clan of our own.”

“Are you serious?” he asked, “Don’t tempt me. I’d love to go somewhere where no one knows my name or expects anything from me.”

“How about we go to where the day meets the night?” you offered.

“Like what? An eclipse?” Hoseok said as he gazed into the night sky.

“Precisely. We can make an eclipse clan. We only have to do festivals for eclipses, and those are kinda rare,” you giggled.

“Sounds like a good dream, sunshine. Let’s seriously discuss it in the morning when we’re both more sober,” Hoseok kissed your forehead.

“Goodnight, my sunshine,” you whispered into his chest.

Published July 23, 2021. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2021 Baepsaesbae.

[bokutosworld]

i won’t say (i’m in love) | kageyama t. 

pairing: kageyama tobio x gn!reader

wc: 1,935 words. fluff, high school crushes. hinata being a wingman lol. 

summary: an encounter at kageyama’s favorite spot in school leads him to meet someone that makes him feel all sorts of confusing feelings. 

a/n: so if it’s not yet obvious by the title, this was inspired by the song from hercules, i won’t say i’m in love :D this idea has been on my drafts for quite some time and i finally had the chance to work on it yaaay 

The first time Kageyama saw you, you were in front of the vending machine he frequented.

It was lunch break, and with ten minutes left before the next period, he figured he could get his favorite banana milk. He was walking towards the area that hid the machine away from prying and hungry eyes. Kageyama was confident that no one was familiar with its spot, especially since the machine always seemed to never go out of stock of his go-to drinks. But boy was he wrong.

The instant that he rounded the corner, he heard the recognizable thud of the drink box falling and someone getting it from its confines. He took a peek and saw a glimpse of a student cheerfully sticking the straw to the pack, humming as they take a sip of the milk. With a contented smile, the student walks off and passes him, giving a side glance and showing off a smirk to Kageyama.

How odd, the setter thought. Though he didn't dwell on it for any much longer, opting to get his own share of the milk. However, when he stood in front of the machine, his heart lurched upon seeing the red light that indicated not available. Kageyama's eyes shoot wide open and he whipped his head towards the direction you went, sending a glare to your retreating back as he realized you took the last milk. Oh, he was furious and poor Hinata was on the receiving end of that sour mood for the rest of the day.

Since that unfateful encounter, Kageyama has been noticing your presence everywhere. And it was an understatement to say that he didn't find you annoying. He remembers how you went under his nose to grab that last box of milk and it still infuriates him.

Whenever you walk by in the hallways, he can't help but follow you with a pointed look on his face. To any outsider, Kageyama looked as if he was sending curses towards your way, at least that was what Hinata thought. But actually, the setter was trying to figure out who you were and why he hadn't seen you in the campus before that day. One day, his curiosity finally got the best of him and he asked Hinata about his concern.

"Huh? What do you mean you don't know Y/N," the orange-haired boy replied. Hinata gave his friend a puzzled look, and as if the cogs in his mind stopped turning, a teasing grin made it way to his face. "Ah, so that's why you've been looking at them like a madman recently. You're so dumb, Kageyama! How could you not recognize them, they're literally our class president."

Hinata was right. That time, Kageyama was dumbfounded when they returned to the classroom and saw you chatting with your friends in the corner. He was entranced by you and the way you were laughing at one of the jokes that he hit his hip in the sharp edge of the desk. He shrieked, causing you to turn your head towards him with worry cast over your face.

It didn't hurt that bad. He was massaging that spot on his hip when you silently stalked towards him. You stood by his side, placing a hand on his back and asking if he was okay. It took all of Kageyama's willpower not to lose his composure in front of you, but Hinata caught on his actions. In that moment, an idea popped up in Shoyo's mind.

"Hey, Pres," he put an arm around Kageyama's shoulders, wiggling his eyebrows at him. "Can I ask you a favor? Can you bring my friend here to the clinic and get his injury checked out? I'm sure it's only minor but we can't be too sure." Kageyama angrily nudged Hinata, a string of stupid, you idiot falling on his lips.

"Yeah, no problem. Come on, Kageyama, let's get you to the nurse."

He was immediately flustered. Kageyama swears his face has never felt that hot when you took his shoulders and wrapped them on your own, acting as his crutch as the two of you walked to the clinic.

Kageyama cleared his throat, his eyes looking at anywhere but you. "H-hey, I'm not completely paralyzed. I can walk on my own."

You laughed, "It's fine. You can rely on me sometimes, you know. Besides, I don't want our star player sitting out of the games." A moment of silence clouds over the two of you on the rest of the way, but just before entering the clinic, you say, "I know you love volleyball. You should enjoy it without any injury."

Kageyama thinks that maybe you were much more than a milk thief after all.

Hinata doesn't know what happened after he sent you and Kageyama to the clinic. But he has a slight idea about what changed when he sees that his teammate has been talking more to you at every chance that he gets, walking by your desk and starting up conversations when he can.

In mornings, he notices that Kageyama always has two packs of milk in hand. And when you enter the room, he sees how he lights up, a shy smile forming on his face as you wave a hand and walk to his desk. He couldn't believe his own eyes when he watches Kageyama give you the other milk and he comes to a conclusion that he bought it just for you.

In gym class, Hinata observes the way Kageyama is extra pumped up to be against you in the 100m dash activity. He sees the playful taunts he sends your way and how you gladly react to them and indulge Kageyama in his competitiveness. He honestly thinks Kageyama won't let you off the hook but he's shocked, when just a few centimeters away from the finish line, he fakes a trip and falls down on the ground. You pass him in high spirits, jumping up and down as you exclaim that you won against the King of the Court. And Hinata knows that the normal Kageyama would be pouting and pissed off at his loss.

But this wasn't a normal Kageyama. He figures that this was a Kageyama in love. 

The pair was assigned to set up the net and prepare the gym before practice started. They were in the storage room getting the equipment when Hinata started teasing Kageyama about his little crush.

"I don't know what you are talking about." The taller boy strongly denied all the accusations that Hinata was throwing at him. "Just shut up and help me here."

Hinata chuckled like an evil villain and continued to spew obvious facts. "You give them milk every morning. You unconsciously make them laugh with your not so funny jokes. You look out for them during gym class more than their friends does. You make time before practice to say goodbye before they go home."

"So, what is your point?"

His friend smirked, "Kageyama Tobio, you have a crush."

Kageyama stood frozen, his hands went limp by his sides at the sudden realization. He was aware that in his recent interactions with you, he'd sometimes feel sick, like he'd get nervous around you, his breathing becomes unstable and his palms get sweaty.  He has noticed it himself how the surroundings would turn brighter whenever you walked in the hallways or how his own heart would beat twice as fast whenever you were approaching him in his desk.

He didn't know what that feeling was called. He didn't want to give it a name. But Hinata just had to point it out. Frustrated that his friend called him out on his adoration for you, Kageyama stayed silent and started playfully punching Hinata. The poor boy was only saved when they heard footsteps come in, and Kageyama was quick to push Hinata away and avoid your gaze when you walked in.

Hinata was grumbling as he walked out of the scene, leaving you two some time to figure out your mutual feelings.

Kageyama immediately crouched down and hid his face on his hands, making you laugh at his awkwardness. He inquired in a muffled voice, "How much of that did you hear?"

You answered him truthfully, narrating the moment when you stopped to hide behind the doors was when you heard Hinata starting to tease him about his little crush. "I'm honestly flattered, Kageyama. Though I am also surprised that Hinata was watching us closely. Or should I be creeped out?"

He glanced up at you, standing from his position and going off on a tangent about how he also thought that Hinata was looking into things too much. He complained that instead of thinking about his love life, Hinata could've used that time to practice his spikes and jumps.

At this point, Kageyama was rambling and though you thought it was endearing, you needed him to pause and breathe. "Can you stop talking for literally ten seconds?" This seemed to work as he shut up and straightened his back, his eyes gazing straight into yours.

Kageyama realized, "Why are you here anyway?"

You smiled and brought out something from your pocket. "I wanted to give this to you." It was the banana milk that he loves. "I saw that it was the last one in the vending machine. I figured you'd want to have it. Have a drink before or after practice."

You thought it wasn't humanly possible to see eyes literally sparkling, but Kageyama was giving you proof of that as he excitedly took the drink from your hands. The corners of his mouth turned upward in a soft smile, and you thought that was the prettiest that he has ever been. He remembers the moment he first saw you and laughs, "You didn't have any problems before taking the last available milk for yourself."

It was your turn to get shocked, hiding a blush behind your palms. You also recall that incident, "Stop, I didn't do that on purpose. Was it my fault that they haven't restocked on that day?”

Kageyama scoffed, "Yeah, right." You pouted, crossing your ams on your chest as you looked away from him. "Thank you."

He has put the straw in the opening of the pack, taking a sip of the milk when you asked him for the second time. "So, you like me, huh?" Kageyama almost choked on his drink, and you laughed before patting his back to help him calm down. Some liquid were spilling from his lips and you were quick to wipe it with your hand. The action was enough to render Kageyama speechless, so he put some distance between the two of you.

You were taking some tissue from your bag to give to Kageyama when you also shared a confession of your own. "If it makes you feel any better, I like you too."

"I'm free this weekend. If you want to take me out a date, you know my number." He looked at you expectantly, the words yes, I'd love to go out with you resting on the tips of his tongue but he wasn't able to let it out. Because in a few seconds, you boldly took a step closer and pressed your lips to his cheek. His face felt warm and his heart was beating like crazy.

"I'll be expecting your call, Tobio."

In that moment, the feelings that he kept on a tightly closed lid were overflowing and it was the affirmation that he needed to know that he was already in too deep for you.

[throughtheinterstices]

the way they loved volleyball

❝ you never loved volleyball. but you loved the two idiots who did. and they loved you the way they loved volleyball. ❞

pairing. miya a. x fem!reader, miya o. x fem!reader 

genre. fluff

word count. 2.3k words

a/n. this came to me when i was thinking of how furudate-sensei described atsumu with the word “love” and how osamu didn’t pursue volleyball. it made me realize how different the twins loved the sport. reblogs are appreciated. 

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST • AO3

You

Ever since, you and the Miya twins had always been close. Growing up, the boys would try various things, experiment with all sorts of activities and hobbies, and meet different people. As days passed by, as dark brown became gold and gray, as jersey numbers become lower, the boys would grow tired and move on to something or someone else. Out of all these, there were only two things that they would keep loving—volleyball and you. 

People would always look at you longingly and say, “Those two love you the way they love volleyball.” 

In their eyes, they think that it was a competition between them. That you were the prize. 

Or maybe that you were the setter with two spikers wrapped around your finger, waiting to see who you would send the ball to.

They were wrong. They only saw the miraculous sets, the awe-inducing passes, and the breathtaking feints. They never saw the players playing in the match. 

They see one thing and immediately assume another. They see the boys with you and they instantly think that they are both in love with you. 

They didn’t understand. 

Miya Atsumu and Miya Osamu loved the same things. Yet, they loved in different ways. So did you.

Miya Osamu

Miya Osamu always knew that he loved you. 

He didn’t know when he started to feel this. He didn’t know how. He just knew that he did. It was that simple. 

Just like volleyball, love came naturally to Osamu. Just as he easily could interpret their captain’s hand signals for the next rally, he could understand the minute twitch in your brow and the slight change of pitch in your voice. He knew when you were up for playful banters or when you needed to be alone.

Just like the way he played volleyball, his love was calm, collected, and observant. It was pats on the shoulder after a long hard day. It was extra packed lunches because he knew you would be too busy to buy something from the cafeteria. It was small smiles after hearing an encouraging cheer from you.

Just like his love for volleyball, his love for you was something that he shared with his twin. It was picking up his pace when he noticed his brother gaining a step closer to you. It was searching for better, more animated stories so you would listen to him rather than his brother. It was laughing a bit louder at your jokes so that your final smile would land on him. People often branded him as the better twin, but at the end of the day, as their coach and their captain remarked, he had the same genes as his brother. So, somehow his love for you was slightly competitive. 

It was on Miya Osamu’s second year of high school when the pieces started to reveal themselves. As their coach announced their school’s representative for Japan’s All Youth Training Camp, as he saw his brother’s triumphant arrogant but still earnestly joyful expression, Osamu maintained his placid disposition. Consequently, this was also the same way he felt when you chose his twin over him.

When Atsumu confronted him and told him to get mad and to get jealous at him, Osamu never obliged. Just like the way he felt when wasn’t chosen for the national team, Osamu wasn’t mad that you chose Atsumu. He was more bothered about why he wasn’t bothered. After all, he loved you the way he loved volleyball. If he didn’t care that much about losing to Atsumu in volleyball, then with you…

Huh. He never noticed that before.

Days later were without Atsumu. Osamu observed that it was slightly without you too. His brother always found a way to keep you close. Without him, things were different. 

During the week that Atsumu was away training, everything would make sense to Osamu. The pieces fell into place and he was finally able to see the bigger picture.

Miya Osamu realized that he loved you, but he wasn’t in love with you.

Just like Miya Osamu’s love for volleyball, he knew that if it wasn’t for his brother, Osamu would have never loved you the way he did. Just like his love for volleyball, he will always have a special place in his heart for you. He will always love you. But never too seriously. Never in the grandiose way his brother did. And never enough to stay.

Later on, your name will enter into conversations and warmth will seep through his insides. He will feel fondness and comfort at the idea of you. Osamu will think of you and smile. 

He will remember all your jokes in the gym. He will remember all your cheers in the court. He will remember all your tears after losses. He will cherish those memories. 

Just like volleyball, you will be someone back from high school. And if Atsumu was not around, that is all you will ever be—a memory to recall, a friend and nothing more. 

That is how Miya Osamu loves you. He loves you as a friend. He loves you for the memories. 

At the end of the day, Osamu knew it was right that you didn’t choose him because loving a memory just isn’t the same as loving a person.

Miya Atsumu

Miya Atsumu fell in love with you the same way he fell in love with volleyball. 

He was playing with all the other kids in the neighborhood (kids Osamu had befriended) and he had badly scraped his knee while attempting to dig a ball (something he wanted to imitate as soon as he watched a professional player do it on TV). You, who heard his cry for pain, immediately ran over to him and did your magic. In no time, you had dusted off his knee and had helped him stand so that you could walk him to your father’s clinic that was nearby.

“It’s going to be okay,” you had told him with a reassuring smile. “I’ll help you cross to the other side.”

Later on, he would learn that you always did this. You always kept an eye on the kids playing across the street, just in case someone needed help. 

Miya Atsumu was young and probably didn’t know what love was, but he knew that he wanted you to be around forever. He would go home, battered and bruised, yet smiling sheepishly, telling his brother and the rest of his family of the girl he had just befriended.

The rest of his family would be surprised, amused, overjoyed, and relieved. Their straightforward hard-to-please Atsumu-kun had just made a friend. The last time his family felt this way was when, after years, Atsumu had finally found resonance with volleyball.

Miya Atsumu fell in love with you the same way he fell in love with volleyball. It was the moment he wanted to dedicate his love to something that was about giving yourself to others.

Just like volleyball, Miya Atsumu was loud, blunt, and rough. He was merciless. There were times when he sent you home crying with the cruel truth in his words. When he was young there were times when he used his fists, until he was taught that he should never hit other people (though that never stopped him from hitting his brother ever). 

Just like he was with volleyball, he would sometimes revert back to a child. There were moments when he would be so petty and blame his forgetfulness on you. He would take your things and ask for your permission only after having returned them. 

Just like volleyball, loving you would never be easy and natural for him. Through the years, there would be days of silent treatment because he gave you the ticket, he lent you his jersey, he practiced nonstop, all you needed to do was come. But you didn’t, because you had an emergency surgery to perform that couldn’t be postponed. He understood your reason. It would just take him time to accept it. There would be late nights of him banging his head on Onigiri Miya’s countertop, because he said the wrong thing, or he said too much, and you needed space. 

Just like volleyball, he would need to learn how to love you correctly. Atsumu would need time, practice, and sometimes even a beating from his twin brother. He would only be able to hold your hand after days of subtly swinging his arm and bumping into yours by what he claims was an accident. He would overcome the awkwardness the same way he did with his setting, after dozens of tries. He would learn to walk on the sidewalk closer to the road the same way he learned to take a single flawless step before a toss—consciously at first, and after some time, by instinct. He would learn how to hold his tongue only after spending many cold nights walking home from his brother’s restaurant. 

Just like his love for volleyball, Miya Atsumu’s love for you was impulsive and reckless. It was being frozen still while hanging on to dear life on the pipe that stretched from the ground to the side of your window and ended on the roof, a pipe that he used to climb so he could romantically knock on your bedroom window after watching a scene of it in a movie. Apparently, he didn’t think that the second floor would be that high. It was spontaneously telling you he loved you after a game, only for you to ask him to repeat what he said because his confession was similar to the sound of him sneezing. Atsumu’s love for you was impromptu dates and unplanned adventures.

Just like he loved volleyball, he would love you unyieldingly and relentlessly. He will tell you he loved you every day, every time he saw you in the hallway, every time you came to one of his games, every time he saw a kid with scrappy knees. He will always be looking for new ways to show it too. Just when you thought he had done the grandest display of his affections, he would come up with a new and better one. 

Between the moment he raises his arm and closes his fist and from the moment he goes in for the serve, in the silence of those eight seconds, he will be looking at you. Later, when you ask him why he did, he will tell you that years ago, when he was just a nameless stupid kid with a wounded knee, you had raised your arm, closed your fist, and induced quietness from his playmates. Between the moment you did that and the moment that you bent to examine his injury, there was silence. You looked him in the eyes and he found peace and reassurance. Though most of the time, Miya Atsumu lived for the loudness of it all, he gained strength in the tranquil eight seconds after the whistle. More so, when you were watching, he had said. 

Just like his love for volleyball, Miya Atsumu’s love for you is earnest, sincere, and thoughtful, always searching for ways to help support you. Atsumu loves you with all that he has, with every fiber of his being, till the end of his days.

The Way Their Love Turned Out

At the end of a long day from the hospital, you will stop by Onigiri Miya, a restaurant known not only for the delicious food, but also for the television that played volleyball games all day. 

You will greet the owner of the shop and he will treat you to dinner and chat with you about what you were doing nowadays. You might even talk about all the idiotic things you did back then. 

The two of you will scrutinize the setter on the television who missed his first serve. After a full rotation, he will score five service aces and the two of you will be giving each other high fives and be shouting at the screen. 

After the game, you will give him a friendly smile and thank him for the meal as you walk out the door with a takeout bag. He will return your smile and ask you to come back. 

He was always happy to see an old friend, he will say.

When you go home to your house full of trophies, medals, signed shirts, and used tickets, you will ready the dining table and put your takeout into microwaveable containers. You will play your favorite Netflix show on the TV and sit on the cold hard floor (not the cozy couch), promising that this time you will definitely not fall asleep.

You will wake up on the bed hours later and you will laugh at yourself, because who were you kidding? 

Though it is dark, you will look at the man beside you who carried you to bed. You will graze your fingers lightly on the contours of his face and you will whisper that you are proud of him and that you love him.

Even if it is silent, you will sense his quiet chuckle. He will press a soft kiss to your forehead, thanking you and telling you that he loves you. He will thank you for the takeout and scold you for sleeping on the floor.

For better or for worse, you will say.

He will laugh. Loudly this time. 

He will hold you closer, tucking your head under his chin. 

I’m glad I married you, he will say.

At the end of the day, Miya Atsumu and Miya Osamu loved the same things. Yet, they loved in different ways. 

So did you.

HAIKYUU MASTERLIST • AO3

[enhyupn]

the perfect date! four

masterlist | previous | next

a series in which enhypen’s 02s competitive side shines through when trying to get your attention. the only solution to end this tiring rivalry? three dates with each of them in the course of three weeks.

paring: 02s x gn!reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: fluff, angst, high school!au, someone’s gonna end up heartbroken

warnings: swearing, violence is mentioned, jealousy, arguments + there might be grammatical and spelling errors in this 😞

ask to be on taglist, updates are irregular

a/n i should really make a masterlist BUT!!! okay i’ll edit this properly soon my eyes aren’t working rn since i’m on the road also it’s taking a while to get to the actual date 😩 Bit so wait for that everyone

taglist: @dchannie17 @simluvbot @jaeyuni @neocrush @penghoons @min-arya @sunooflowerss @badroseee @cha-raena @ghjasksdk @strawr @jaypen @nanachuu @nikisboxysmile @softkons @kisshoons-main @enha-woodzies

you had felt as if your feet were about to fall off by the time you had reached the gate of your well loved home. with heavy breaths you could see the outline of a figure standing almost a meter away from you. a scowl on your face when you saw the almost semi-permanent smirk placed on jay’s face as he stood proudly in front of your home. you let an exasperated sigh out as you lean against the cold metal gate, not able to find the energy to open it up. the lack of daylight surrounding you only really added to your draining energy. you roll your eyes before fixing your school blazer into it’s proper appearance and adjusting your school bag to fit comfortably on your shoulder. you look up once again, your eyes meeting the blonde dyed boy’s eyes. a smile placed in his eyes, something that showed you that had been waiting for you.

your mind couldn’t help but remind you that this was one of the few moments where you had really taken the time to look at jay’s face. your time in middle school didn’t really give you any opportunities due to the fact you were so shy and bashful in front of the boy that you couldn’t even properly look at him. you just so barely properly spoke to him and exchanged messages to even form some sort of connection. you never really questioned until then why he had a crush on you in middle school, a time in your life where you had thought you were going to be alone forever. as much as you wanted to question him you knew you’d accidentally expose your own past crush, something you desperately didn’t want to explain.

“are you gonna greet me or are you just gonna keep staring at my face?” he teased, letting out a hearty laugh. you shook your head, not approving of his statement. you unlock your gate as you send him another glare. the wind added to the already dramatic yet heart warming scene, loose cherry blossom petals from a nearby tree flying around you almost romantically.

“i was not” you murmured as you had gotten closer to him, the sound of the grass lightly flattening as you walked over it with care. you might of even stepped on a bug in the process, none of the surrounding light exposing itself onto the lawn meaning your vision was very little. “as if i’d willingly do that”. the boy only laughed in response as you leaned against the wall, very eerily close to him. you eyes dart to the small space in between the two of you, unexplainable heat rushing to your cheeks. the boy sends you a look with his eyebrow raised, unsure what the problem was. “anyways, what was that call even for?” you manage to shift the attention back into your words.

“hmmmm” he pretended to think, the joke only causing you to snort quietly to yourself. his head suddenly twists towards you, the previous view of your sad looking garden not doing him any justice in your conversation. from your point of view, your eyes only widened in surprise when you had realised just how close your faces were together. his nose was almost touching yours and, if you wanted to, you could of even touched foreheads together. “i don’t know”.

“what do you mean i don’t know?” you move your face back, jay not noticing the small movement from your sudden bashfulness. “who calls saying i’m at your house, come home quickly before i break in without a reason?” you continue, hands flying around you as you try and theatrically explain his excuse.

“maybe i do?” jay laughed in between his words. you roll your eyes at his playfulness, a small smile forming on your lips when you looked down at your feet. as much as you wanted an explanation, hearing jay finally for the first time in years joke around with you simply just felt better.

“veeerry funny jay” you spoke breathily, leaning further against the wall of your home. you knew your parents were waiting for your arrival, probably sitting in their room asking themselves when you’ll eat your dinner. however, you weren’t entirely really sure if they knew about jay’s sudden visit outside your door. with a quick sigh out you turn to him once again, the boy only mirroring your action with a grin spread across his face. “how did you know where i live? or remembered my number?”.

“jake, for both of your answers” you seem raise an eyebrow at the mention of your best friend’s name, suspicious on what had happened between the two of them.

“you two are buddy-buddy now?” you tease, your fingers wiggling in front of his face playfully as you let a squeaky laugh out. jay lightly swatted your hands away, a low chuckle escaping him mouth as he turned away from you to look at the bland scenery in front of him.

“not exactly, we just both relate to things i guess” he replied quietly, the sound of crickets chirping and wind slightly breezing through following the sound of his voice. your lips morph into a small smile when you had listened to his words.

“that’s nice to hear” you sigh out blissfully, your head nodded in agreement while turning to the front of you too to look at the same scenery his eyes were trained on. “no more fighting then, i suppose?”.

“can’t promise that one” jay awkwardly let out, his head replaying the memory of earlier that evening. he bit his lip in guilt, feeling yet again apologetic about the whole situation. “hey i’m sorry—”

“—it’s fine” you interrupt him abruptly. you had already predicted what he was about to say, knowing jay’s personality you knew he would feel incredibly guilty about it. you knew it wasn’t either of their faults, from every way you’ve looked at the situation you understood that the two of weren’t the best with handling any sort of feelings they felt. “you two were just emotional, plus i wasn’t giving you enough attention today too”.

“give me attention?” he laughed, a growing blush scattering across his face. his brain almost blew up at your slightly affectionate comment. “why would you say it like that?”.

“oh shut up” you nudge him lightly, biting your lip in slight embarrassment when you had realised what you had said. “you know what i mean! i haven’t seen you in forever and of course you would wanna catch up with me”. you glance at him while your feet tapped slightly, “right?”.

“how cocky of you to think i missed you” jay jokingly rolled his eyes. you could tell from his playful tone that he was just teasing you, although it didn’t stop you from lightly elbowing him in the side.

it felt nice, talking so freely with the boy you’ve probably spent a good chunk of your life thinking about and as well as even missing. the brain of middle school you would of never even thought this would of happened, with you thinking then that the two of you were on two completely different levels (with jay being on the significantly higher level, even during those middle school years). you wish you could of told your younger self that those times spent silently admiring your school crush wasn’t a one sided thing as much as you had thought.

“don’t go thinking i missed you either too then!” you pout. the action setting jay’s brain into haywire, you had such an affect on him but you were the only one who couldn’t realise it.

he abruptly swivels his head forward, not wanting you to catch his embarrassing slip up. your own action caused him to clear his head completely blank, not having any snarky comebacks for your reply.

“remember the jeju day trip in middle school?” jay changed the subject, it caused you to raise an eyebrow before taking a glimpse at him.

you didn’t really understand why he had brought it up, it wasn’t anything significant. you can vaguely even remember the day, the only real memory you had of that day was your aunt dressing you up for it. she had wanted you to look your best, you can’t really thank her for anything since that whole night was truly just unmemorable.

“no” you paused to rack your brain in hopes to find anything to add to his question. “why? was there something worth remembering?”, yet another pout formed on your face from his puzzling question.

“the plane ride there?” he mentioned, trying to jog your memory in hopes to find what he was trying to say. “do you seriously not remember?” he laughs unexpectedly, his voice only sending your heart beating rapidly.

“n-no” a stutter had caught up to your words. you had no idea why he was still giving you this affect. i mean you’ve gotten over him over the course of his absence, right?

“well, remember earlier today, what i told you in front of sunghoon and jake” he rambles on, completely ignoring your embarrassed state. you glance back at him, noticing he was awkwardly playing with his fingers with tinted red ears. you smile to yourself, the boy setting your cheeks on fire with small actions that you didn’t think would even affect you.

“yeah, what about it?”

“i said i had a crush on you” he continued, his words only sending butterflies to your stomach as you tried to put on a calm smile. you only nodded silently, unable to find the correct answer to reply to him with. “on the plan ride to jeju, we sat beside each other” you watched from his side his hands ran through his hair, “you were so talkative and just so bright— happy? something like that. i remember only wanting to talk to you that whole day after we got off the plane, my friends kept teasing me about it and wouldn’t stop asking why i kept glancing at you throughout our whole trip”.

“you’ve liked me since then?” you let out; quietly questioning his comment, your hands cupping your mouth in realisation at your slight mixup of words. “i mean— you started liking me then? up until whenever you’ve stopped liking me? you get what i’m trying to say—”.

“who said i stopped liking you?”

if words could kill, his would of definitely made you drop stone cold onto the ground. you open your mouth, and without surprise nothing came out due to your speechless state of mind. did he really just— was he being serious? that’s all you could think as you blankly stared at his face, eyes slightly widening as a small smirk laced through his lips. you would of comically checked your pulse in front of him as a way to ease this tension but you were too star struck to even move an inch. what was going on?

“h-huh?” only a noise came out of your mouth, desperately yelling at yourself to just even let out a single word. jay only seemed to find humour in this situation, chuckling at your frozen state as he straightened his back. with a step forward he looked back at you, his face being illuminated by the cheap porch light in front of your door. you could only gulp at his figure, somehow looking more like a pictorial pose than a casual pose regular people would normally do.

“you heard me” with his head whipping back to the front of him. he placed both of this hands behind his head, an audible yawn coming out of his mouth to express his drowsiness. “it’s getting late isn’t it?” he had professed quite randomly, a completely different choice of topic than your original one.

“well, yeah...” you replied, your words sounding confused. if someone had asked you what the two of you had been talking about that whole evening, you wouldn’t of been able to tell them anything.

“i should get going then” he stretched his arms gently, an action now raising your eyebrow in suspicion. with your arms crossed you watched as he took a step further away from you, his figure almost disappearing in the darkness of your garden.

“you’re just not gonna explain your last sentence?” you nervously informed the boy of his previous words. the boy only continued his walk down the small pathway in front of the two of you, a laugh being heard even with the distance.

“what do you mean explain?” he taunted, finally reaching the cold metal gate you had earlier made in contact with. the creak of the gate caused you to flinch in shock, you watched as he swiftly made his way past your gate, his feet stopping as he closed it again. staring back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “the explanation’s right there”.

“but—”

“see you tomorrow y/n” he put a stop to your attempt, a small smile dancing happily upon his face as he took off on his journey home. “sweet dreams!” you could faintly hear him as he made his way deeper down your street.

“what— what was that about...” you spoke hesitantly. your words coming out quietly unable to really understand what had happened, something that was happening far too often that day. you understood what he said definitely, but at the same time what did he say? he said the explanation was there but as much as you wanted your brain to believe his words, you couldn’t allow yourself.

you stood there for a good few minutes, your brain trying to come up with reasonable answers; ones that weren’t pointing towards the conclusion that jay park could possibly like you. as in like—like romantically! there was no way you were going to let yourself believe in something as unbelievable as that. letting out a loud sigh you finally make up your mind to go inside your house, not having the energy to even try and make up an excuse to your parents on why you were arriving home so late.

with your hand on the door handle you felt a surprising quick vibration coming from your right pocket. you sweat instantly on the spot, your brain instantly scattering the word jay in the blank spaces in your mind. cautiously, you dipped your hand into your pocket, bracing yourself for a very awkward message from the blond boy.

park sunghoon (3-A) added you to “booth @ festival”

you sighed happily at the notification, until you had realised the previously mentioned boy was also in this group chat. your eyes drifted at sunghoon’s contact name, the formality of it almost begging you to change it into something more casual.

sunghoon: Meeting tomorrow at 7:30AM sharp, please be there on time.

jakey: sure! no promises though

jakey: the bus run’s on it’s own time sometimes

sunghoon: I can excuse that.

jay: why do you type so stiff

you couldn’t help but agree at jay’s off topic tease, sunghoon’s way of typing seemed very formal for a group chat with your classmates. a quiet giggle escaped your mouth as you walked into your house, “i’m home!” you informed your family as you raised your voice one step into your home.

sunghoon: What do you mean?

jay: ok nvm

y/n: i’ll be there!! see you three tmr 🤍

with your hand forcefully taking your shoes off, you lazily typed your reply with one hand with little to no attention on your screen. you felt your heart race rapidly when you realised, out of habit, you send a white heart to the group of boys. cursing to yourself you threw your shoes onto your shoe rack, the position of them awkwardly almost falling off the shelf they were on. you swiftly typed out a reply, trying to explain your small accident without further embarrassing yourself.

y/n: i didn’t mean the heart .

jay: sureee you didn’t

y/n: shut up

jakey: this is like the third time you’ve done that

y/n: STOP IT PLEASE FOR MY OWN SAKE

sunghoon: I think we should stop embarrassing Y/N.

y/n: thank you sunghoon

y/n: ummmm anyways goodnight!

you groaned loudly, knowing it was more than likely that jake and jay would tease you about it the following morning. you felt yourself dramatically falling on your bed, your face being engulfed by your bed sheets as you ran your hands through your head in frustration. the only thing stopping you from screaming your embarrassment out was the fact someone in the room beside you scolded you for making noise so late in the night.

“sorry!” you replied back, your face warm from your burst of energy. “can’t wait for tomorrow” you sarcastically whispered to yourself, bringing yourself to sit properly at the edge of your bed.

in the whole course of a day, nothing had gone to plan. first jay showing up? jake confessing to you? sunghoon (kind of) walking you home? all of this just on day one, you couldn’t even imagine what day two was going to be like.

“cannot wait!”

[bts-weverse-trans]

201124 Weverse Magazine ‘BE’ Comeback Interview - J-Hope

j-hope: “Even just one, single love is beautiful, but we’re getting love from all over the world” BTS BE comeback interview 2020.11.24

On April 28, j-hope streamed a Log ( ON ) video of his dance warm-up on BTS’s YouTube channel, BANGTANTV. Over the course of an hour and four minutes, he stretches out his whole body, gradually advances from small motions up to big movements, and demonstrates more of his other techniques. And he didn’t leave out his cooldown exercise, either. This has been j-hope’s life as a BTS member for the past seven years.

A whole lot happened this year. j-hope: Like I said in another interview, it’s been a roller coaster of a year. It started out with our performance at the Grammys, which was really, really, great, and then Map of the Soul: 7 came out, which was great, too, and then it plummeted. With COVID-19 happening, I did a lot of thinking, did some studying, then everyone met “Dynamite” and we had some great results. And the ride repeated. Roller coasters are scary, but you keep thinking about them even after you get off. That’s how I felt about this year: it was scary, but memorable.

One of those memorable things must be how “Dynamite” topped the Billboard Hot 100 but you never had a chance to actually go to the U.S. j-hope: So when we got first place, we couldn’t even check the charts. We were asleep. We checked when we woke up, and there we were, at the top. But then we went straight to work. (laughs) We had to film something here in Korea. It was hard to enjoy ourselves, the whole situation being what it was, but it was all right because we could still enjoy it together.

You must have had a lot on your mind, making BE during this kind of year. j-hope: I tend to think of BTS albums as being a reflection of the whole team, but this time I thought of it as putting in the stories I wanted to tell, making it my music and infusing myself into the new album while still being a BTS album. It turned out to be right at home with BTS’s color, and the whole team’s energy led to an even bigger synergy.

What made you think to go in that direction? j-hope: We started this album off by getting together and asking what kind of story we wanted to tell. The end result of that conversation was, “Well, hey, we still have to live with this situation; we can’t give up.” And from there, “Life Goes On” was born, and then we got to work on the stories we each wanted to tell. I think it sounds more raw, since we tried to capture the emotions we felt living through the pandemic.

I imagine you each had a lot of songs you wanted to include, and that your opinions were probably all a bit different. How did you compromise on the final product? j-hope: None of us made any kind of plan. We’d listen to a track and someone would ask, “Hey, anybody wanna give this a try?” and someone else would say, “Me! I’ll do it.” We just did it that way. There were clashes, too. When each person starts to speak louder, it’s hard to find a common ground. But we’ve always been good at communicating with one another, and we know when to back down or be gracious, so everything went smoothly including planning for the unit songs.

How did each of you choose your songs? You put “Dis-ease” on the album. j-hope: There’s one song where we were working in the studio and someone said, “That track wasn’t very good, was it? Jung Kook’s one before was better” and we’d switch on the spot. The song would be done recording and we talked to the label and ended up switching it out. We listened to it all together and said, “What about this?” And that’s how we decided. So then “Life Goes On” was done, and I wasn’t sure if “Dis-ease” would be on the album. We gave the seven songs from each member to Jimin, who was project manager, and he suggested we listen to them first and then get feedback from people inside the company. I think it was one of the stories each member could feel was his own.”

Where did you get the idea for the theme of “Dis-ease”? j-hope: First, I wanted to get into the mindset that this song is a sickness. When I make a song, I work on the chorus first, and then move onto the first verse. When I had only finished the chorus the song felt upbeat, but I thought the overall theme shouldn’t be too playful. That wouldn’t reflect how I felt. But while the theme of “Dis-ease” itself isn’t very light, when it fuses with the beat, it feels as if the song is trying to get over itself and stay positive. So I threw some scratching into the chorus and put in some “bbyap bbyap bbayp” and then started to think, “Aha! I’d better call this song ‘Dis-ease.’ ”

I didn’t expect you to write a song portraying your love–hate relationship with your work as a disease. A lot of people would expect you to have a positive, hopeful attitude, given your name. j-hope: I was too busy to ever give much thought about the work itself. But, as you know, that suddenly changed, and there was a lot we could no longer do. When I was working, I’d say, “Ugh, I need a break,” but then we took time off and the words, “Ugh, I want to work,” jumped out of my mouth! That’s what made me think more closely: “Why is this bothering me? I have a chance to rest—just take it. Why do I feel like I need to work under these circumstances? Is this an occupational disease?” I felt like this was a part of me that I could express at this point in time.

This is the first time in your lyrics I’ve heard how hard you push yourself to be successful. It made me wonder about the burden you felt about work over the past seven years. j-hope: Out of habit, I would say, “I’m okay; I have hope,” and keep working, but I think I was just avoiding my work-related problems rather than facing them head on. The nice thing about music is that I can say what’s on my mind, even feeling of sadness or depression, in beautiful ways.  I don’t usually express those feelings but this time I wanted to try.

It sounds like you have lots of different thoughts about work. j-hope: With my work? Well, actually, I’m not sure. Work is kind of an ugly duckling. Work gives me good energy but there’s energy you get from resting. But someone like me feels alive when they’re working, so I need to keep moving and keep doing. I feel anxious when I stop and content when I go. Every once in a while I don’t want to work, but I can’t not work.

You’re saying you and work go well together? j-hope: Exactly. It’s easier just to think simple. If you think too hard, that’s when things get difficult. Because I’m me, I can’t just keep it simple all the time, but I’m trying my hardest to do my best.

Thinking simple isn’t always so simple. j-hope: Yeah. Maybe it’s because I don’t have many problems to deal with. I feel uncertainty because of that. Uncertain about how my identity will be affected if I do encounter some great hardship.

BTS has faced a lot of hardship, though, right? j-hope: That is also true. (laughs) But the team wouldn’t have kept going if it’d just been me cheering ourselves on. We’re possible because we all think the same way. I wonder if we would’ve been able to come this far if it was just me saying, “Let’s go, guys!” That’s why I’m even more thankful to the other members.

What do those emotional changes affect your music? j-hope: I didn’t want to make an overly cheery song this time. I thought it would be best to do some softer songs about the way I was feeling this whole time, so I chose “Dis-ease” as well as “Fly to My Room.” The other members also thought, “Yeah, we’ve done a lot of bright songs, so it should be fine if we try it this way, too.” “Blue & Grey” is like that, too. I love that song.

You have a completely different voice when you rap on “Blue & Grey.” Did your rap style also change, along with your emotions? j-hope: I wanted “Blue & Grey” to sound like I was talking, actually. The tone and feel of my voice changes a lot depending on how I vocalize my rap.  I noticed that a lot this time. Namjoon actually helped me a ton. His part was after mine, so I turned to him and said, “Maybe it would sound better if I did it like this,” and tried it out. Then I used his advice and found the right sound.

How does it feel moving away from your normal style? j-hope: It’s really refreshing. I thought it wouldn’t work but I think it did after all. And I always thought this was a feel that I wanted to give it a try. For me, BE is sort of like the first step down an unfamiliar path, so there were parts that were challenging, and also parts that were a welcome change.

I think your rap in “Dis-ease” demonstrates that change well. Instead of trying to keep time in the intro, your flow just follows the story. j-hope: I made sure not to overthink anything this time. It ended up sounding natural because I just matched the rhythm of the words as they left my mouth. And it was refreshing because I haven’t done a long verse like in “Dis-ease” in forever. When we rap, there tend to be four or eight-ish lines; I thought I’d try and pack in a verse with sixteen. It also helped because the lyrics came out before many of the other things for this song.

The music makes “Dis-ease” sound upbeat, but then there’s a surprising message: “To be honest, I have this problem.” It’s like you were holding yourself back from crossing a line. j-hope: It was something like that. Shouldn't we stay on this line? Maybe that’s a disease too (laughs). I thought if j-hope leaned too much to one side people might think that’s strange, too. That’s why I tried to stick to my standards, but since I’m also human I also expressed emotions I couldn’t articulate into music.

You don’t want to try and cross that line? j-hope: I’ve thought about it, obviously. I want to, but in my life itself and in my mind, I always think if there’s a line, it shouldn’t be crossed. But I’m becoming more generous to myself about crossing lines when it comes to music.

So you haven’t crossed yet, but right now you want to say, “I have something else,” and go further. j-hope: Yes. This is maybe a time when I really need to. I’ve been lucky because I met great people, had success and reached where I am now. Now that I’m here, I always want to try new things myself and keep growing. That’s why I’m working hard and thinking about what kind of music I should make.

There’s a part in “Fly to My Room” where you sing, “You can change the way you think.” It’s like you were explaining the past seven years of your life. j-hope: It all depends on how you look at it. Say there’s some kind of food. You might feel lonely while eating it by yourself, but if you forget about your loneliness for a minute and think, “There is no difference in food I would be eating out (with other people) anyway,” then it’s just like eating out. So even though I was stuck feeling lonely at home, I started to think of it as another trip instead. I thought of my room as my world, and delivery food as a three-star hotel meal. As you can tell from the title, I worked on that song by thinking about the way I endured this year so far.

And why did you decide to “change the way you think?” j-hope: Because I get a lot of love. Because I’m in this position and in this place, there’s things I have to deal with, and I should do things and think things I am able to bear. I thought about that a lot and accepted it. So I thought about what I could do during these hard times, and how I could help out my friends, my team. I think I’m still going through that process, too, so everything’s an “-ing”, because I might need to know what to do later about what I can do, even if I don’t quite know it yet.

What effect does being surrounded by so much love have on you? j-hope: It’s amazing to be loved by even one person. Even just one, single love is beautiful, but we’re getting love from all over the world. And I know this isn’t something to take for granted. I’m so incredibly thankful that sometimes I feel overwhelmed just thinking, ‘Wow, how can I ever return this much love?’ I want to express that in any way possible, every moment I can, because I’m so honored to be so loved that I can’t begin to put it into words.

A little while ago, in an interview with Rolling Stone India, you said that, when you were young, you equated debuting with success. What does success mean to you now, now that you’ve had success after success? j-hope: Success … It’s a simple idea, but it can weigh on you. In all aspects of life, I think success means being satisfied with what you’re able to do.When you lose faith in your work and it starts becoming a chore, that’s when it starts to get depressing.

There are inevitably times when you can’t enjoy it. j-hope: It’s just, you know, it’s really simple. If you can’t do it now, you can always do it later. Do that, and you can put your mind at ease. And I think that’s the secret to living a long, happy life. Anything you can’t do in your 20s, you can just do in your 40s. Of course, there’s going to be stuff you should do now while you’re still (laughs) energetic. But if that’s the position you’re in right now, you just have to ride it out. Try again later if you can’t enjoy yourself now. You’ll probably feel different in the future anyway. Yeah, that was pretty much the key to my self-preservation.

Where do you find the strength to hold on like that? j-hope: From the group, it’s very clear what that is. It’s our fans. ARMY. We had to pull through, for the fans. At any time of any day, the fans come first. I keep thinking about how painful it would be for the fans if we just gloss over something or feel like giving up just because we’re having a hard time. I was 20 when we made our debut. I didn’t know much about having a social life, but the messages our fans sent were a big comfort and gave us hope. I learned a lot just by reading fan letters and understanding the kind of thoughts they had. Fans and artists really are one and the same.

That makes me think of a line from “Life Goes On”: “People say the world has changed but thankfully between you and me, nothing has changed.” j-hope: Yes, right. I thought that line expressed the feeling really well as soon as I first heard it. Yoongi wrote that. He is really good. (laughs) I think that describes our relationship with our fans.

Trans © Weverse

[lizbotw]

Oikawa, Akaashi, Kuroo, Kenma, and Nishinoya With a S/O that Has a RBF and Can Be Moody

Anonymous said:

Hi! Can you do Oikawa, Akaashi, Kuroo, Kenma, and Noya with an S/o that has a resting bitch face and gives off a strong “dont talk to me” aura when moody or tired?

hey! these took me a while to finish so i hope you like them ♡

Oikawa Tooru

He’s used to people praising his personality, all sweet words and thoughtful gifts. What he wasn’t used to was someone other than Iwaizumi blowing a fuse in response to his actions, especially if it was over something miniscule.

You had forgotten your water bottle in the gym after your daily P.E. class, but with your lunch period having already passed, you had no choice but to wait until the end of the school day to go pick it up, lest you get scolded by a teacher for “skipping class” and going to do something deemed “unnecessary” during their precious class time.

And so you impatiently waited out the last few classes of the afternoon before you hurried to the gym, hoping that no one had moved your bottle. (If you had to go run to the lost and found because someone had placed it there, you swore you would just about scream—you were tired and wanted to go home, plus the extra time spent going on a wild goose chase for the object meant you might actually miss your ride home if you didn’t hurry).

You shoved open the gym doors unceremoniously—after-school sports clubs were already gathering in the room for their pre-practice warmups—and you kept your eyes focused on the area in front of you, wanting to get in and out quickly.

You squinted a little at the familiar shape in your line of sight. Ah! There it is. In the distance you could make out your water bottle resting upon the same bench you had left it on, and you jogged over to it, swooping it up and slinging your backpack down and off of your shoulders in one movement. Your bag landed on the bench with a thump and the hiss of the zipper when you tugged the main compartment of the bag open were all you were focused on.

While you were shoving around a few books in your bag, trying to make room to squeeze the water bottle in, you failed to notice the intense stare you had earned from one of the very sports players you had ignored on your way in.

“Hey! Can I help you?” A chipper, smooth voice was the culprit.

You whirled around at the sound, water bottle half shoved into your already overcrowded bag.

Just your luck. The infamously chatty Oikawa Tooru had been the one to seek your company the one time you were actually in a rush. Resident pretty boy and captain of the volleyball team—of course you knew who he was.

His smile was charming and even in his normal workout clothes, you had to admit he still looked good.

And you also had to admit that while any other day this would have been a great conversation to have, right now you were so over it.

You ignored his attempt at conversation and focused on finishing up here and leaving, turning back to your bag and silently praying for the water bottle to just go in.

He was taken aback by your lack of response, but, never one to give up, he tried again.

Next to you on the bench, he gently placed down the small towel he had slung over one shoulder, along with his own water bottle, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he set them down—he kept his grin on, although it was beginning to waver at your lack of reaction.

“This is the volleyball bench, so that’s why I was wondering if you needed something. We don’t usually let people stay and watch us practice, but you know, I’m feeling generous today so if you want to-”

You straightened up, backpack now firmly placed over your shoulders and water bottle secure inside. Your eyebrows had furrowed into an annoyed expression out of habit and thus an involuntarily glare was given to the captain. “Yeah, no thanks. I’ve got to go,” you mumbled, barely feeling like talking—seriously, how could someone have so much energy after school?

Oikawa watched as you left the same way you had come, confused and slightly appalled by your behavior. It took Iwaizumi giving him a firm punch to the arm and an order to “get back to stretching, dumbass, I’m not dealing with you pulling a muscle later and whining, I fucking swear,” to get him to go back to work.

Your interactions were minimal much of the time, but as though fate drew you together, you found yourself having many more similar interactions with the captain, much to your dismay. You didn’t hate him per say, but you definitely couldn’t stand his radiant, flirty personality when you already felt half-asleep after a long day.

First it was your friend leaving their water bottle in the same place you had and them begging you to go get it and give it to them first thing when you saw each other tomorrow because they had to go home right after school today for some reason.

Next it was someone forgetting their phone and you offering to go get it because they had done you a favor that one time a few weeks ago and you wanted to return it.

Then it was a whole textbook (what are you even doing with a textbook in the gym anyway?).

The cycle went on and on, and each and every time Oikawa was there, you used to his cliche conversation starters by now. It became a sort of routine, a game, and when your brain was clear from the throes of sleepiness later, you would mull over the interactions and realize that you actually enjoyed them.

It was quite the shock for Oikawa when he ran into you during lunch one day and you were bubblier than he had ever seen you (you were still filled with energy after a long night’s rest and school hadn’t sapped all of your vibrancy for the day just yet—plus you were excited that it was lunchtime), even being greeting him enthusiastically with a “Hey, Oikawa!” and waving to him when he had called out to you (he expected you to ignore him so he was frozen in shock for a moment at your display).

At some point, lunchtime hangouts between the two of you became the new routine, and from there the routines slowly continued to change and evolve until you two were miraculously dating. (The new routine was now stopping by the gym after school, even if you hadn’t forgotten anything there, to give him a goodbye kiss and a “Good luck with practice, babe!” before you headed home. The alternative routine was that you finally took up that offer he had made on that very first day about you staying to watch practice, and afterwards he would walk you home, you two stopping in a convenience store to buy ice cream before you got far. You both seemed the enjoy the latter a lot more.)

Oikawa, observant as he is, figured out that you become “pouty” when you were tired (you were sitting on his bed and doing homework with him when he announced that as though it was some sort of profound realization, and you hit him overhead with a pillow because why did you just described it like that, Tooru???).

He’s pretty good about giving you space when you need it, although most of the time, even if you’re sleepy or upset and don’t want to deal with anyone, he’s still liberal with the affection he gives you, knowing that you secretly love the attention. He just has to look past your sharp words to see what you really want and at this point you’re pretty sure he’s a mind reader.

When you’re not feeling tired and overworked, he knows you can actually be pretty sweet, so if he sees you staring off into the distance, your not-so-neutral resting face on, he’ll absolutely annoy the hell out of you because once you crack that million dollar smile? He’s done for (but he likes the pain of his heart beating wildly around you so it’s okay).

He’s just an absolute sucker for how angry you look most of the time but how you’re simultaneously the most supportive person he’s ever met underneath it all (in some ways it reminds him of Iwaizumi, although you’re less… prickly than Iwa seems to be much of the time; that and you don’t throw volleyballs at his head whenever he messes up a play during practice—most of the time that is).

Akaashi Keiji

The literal calmest couple ever that simply likes to stick to themselves—that’s the initial impression many have of you two.

That couldn’t be further from the truth though. Despite your outward appearance, you were quick to crack smiles around just about anyone (you got along well with Bokuto for this very reason), and Akaashi had proven to be unexpectedly playful at times as well (it was mostly around you and his team though, so that side of him was relatively unknown).

Akaashi wasn’t put off by how you appeared at all—that sort of thing didn’t really matter to him—and the faithful pairing up of you two together for a group project finally gave you the opportunity to talk.

He’s generally good with dealing with just about anyone, so while he was surprised once you started talking his ear off about the project, outwardly he didn’t so much as bat an eye, simply listening to you ramble on and responding when appropriate.

Once you two are together, quiet evenings become common, you most likely laying on his chest and scrolling through your phone while he holds a book above his head, the only noise being the flipping of the pages. Evenings like those are exactly what you need when you’re feeling overworked and want to snap at just about everything, and Akaashi is quick to soothe you—with even just a few words from him you can already feel yourself feeling better.

He secretly takes pride in the fact that others may look at your moodiness and intimidating appearance and shy away, meanwhile he’s able to actually understand you (also he has experience with Bokuto so literally just hit him with all you’ve got).

Together you two can seem pretty intimidating and unapproachable, but you also look cool as hell walking through the hallways side by side so it’s a necessary sacrifice.

Akaashi picked up the habit of taking pictures of you when you’re not looking because you look amazing with your neutral face and fierce expression, but also when you’re joking freely with him, eyes screwed shut and mouth open as laughter spills out, you’re simply stunning. He likes the duality and sees something poetic in it because of course he does.

He loves looking through his camera roll sometimes and just scrolling and seeing you simply minding your own business and looking out the window in one picture, but then getting up to all sorts of trouble in the name of fun in the next.

He’d probably be embarrassed if you found out, although he quickly realized that he also likes to show you the pictures sometimes so you can see yourself exactly how he sees you, and you have to admit that some of the shots are breathtaking with how he seems to capture you in the perfect way (the lightning, background, and of course you all look amazing because he’s Akaashi and to him every detail should be just right, especially if it involves you) and when the pictures are paired together with the others, the contrast jumps out and you have to smile at that.

Kuroo Tetsurou

A mostly empty hallway, the two of you being the only ones there, was where it all started. An entire open hallway and of course, he still managed to bump into you somehow. (To be fair, you were tapping away on your phone, complaining to your friend over text about how you just wanted to go home already and take a nap because the test last period had been exhausting, and not paying attention to where you were going at all).

To his credit, he was quick to apologize, turning over his shoulder so you would catch his words, seeing as you two were walking in opposite directions. “Ah… sorry, I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” A light chuckle on the end tied up the apology nicely by adding a charming casualness to it.

You looked up from your phone with an annoyed expression, eyes narrowed, and sighed to yourself before you turned around to reply to him. “Maybe work on that next time,” you snapped. You were clearly exasperated and Kuroo was left blinking in bewilderment at the interaction.

You two were in the same class and although you knew of each other, you weren’t exactly friends—more like acquaintances, although Kuroo was wondering if he had missed the memo on when that title had switched to sworn enemies.

He decided to test this theory and tentatively bid you “good morning” when he got to class the next day. He had almost chickened out because you looked absolutely terrifying, almost as though you were going to bite whoever so much as glanced in your general direction.

Although you seemed confused at first at the fact that he was even talking to you, you gave a small, “Good morning?” back. (It came out as more of a question, but you know what? He’ll take it.)

Okay, so… you didn’t hate him? Or at least not as much it seemed?

And so Kuroo kept this up, always the first one to say “good morning” to you each day—it was sort of like a science experiment, him trying to gauge what you thought about him and test out his hypothesis (the mystery of that interaction in the hallway is what kept him at it, even as silly as it seemed).

You asked him at one point why he suddenly started talking to you and he quickly deflected the question, afraid you would catch onto his little research experiment, even as outlandish the possibility of that happening was.

Those were the first few interactions you two had and even now when Kuroo looks back on it he has secondhand embarrassment for his past self—what was he even doing?

Nowadays, now that you’re finally dating, he doesn’t question your moodiness, knowing that everyone has off days. He has also finally figured out that you two were never sworn enemies in the first place (although he thinks that this love story would have been way more interesting if that had been the case).

Whenever you’re staring off and looking serious, Kuroo loves to pinch your cheeks to snap you back to reality and even as often as he does it, you fall for it every time and honestly he can deal with the death glare you give him because then the small smile you can’t conceal comes out right afterwards (what he can’t deal with though is you withholding kisses from him because you said he didn’t deserve them after pinching you three times in the span of two hours, so after that one time you learned that that punishment was horribly ineffective because so clingy throughout it).

If you’re looking tired, simply down on your luck and annoyed at life, he doesn’t let it affect him and knows not to take it personally, slipping you a cup of tea to help you calm down and clear your mind, and sitting across from you at the kitchen table and watching you as you sip at the drink, ready to talk whenever you want. His affection is quiet in those moments, but you welcome it as much as you do his grand gestures of love—he always brings each type of support out at just the right moment and you find it hilarious that he had ever thought that you could hate him (you could never, not when he was like this).

Kenma Kozume

The fact that the first impression he had of you was that you weren’t in-his-face hyper was jarring enough—he was used to his teammates and their high energy shenanigans, so you were an anomaly in his eyes.

He wouldn’t exactly make a first move, or at least not for a while, but in class when he’s bored, head in his palm, elbow on the table, and drumming his pen against his desk absentmindedly, he would watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You confused him. You had tons of friends, Kenma knew that much about you, and he always overheard people talking about how much fun you were to talk to, yet here he saw none of that rumored playfulness. You were stone-faced as the teacher droned on, rigid in your movements as you copied down the notes from the board robotically.

Watching you write reminded him that he should probably do the same, but even as he went back to trying to focus on that day’s lesson and stared down at his notebook, you stayed on his mind.

He knew that not everyone always outwardly showed their entire personalities, but he had been watching you for what felt like forever and you never so much as cracked a smile. Surely that was unusual?

Kenma found himself itching to just walk up to you and say something—he hated not being in the know and… you seemed approachable enough. Even when he came to the conclusion to stir up a casual conversation with you to finally put his mind at rest, he was still surprised with himself when he actually did it.

He was even more surprised when you instantly brightened up when he talked to you, polite in your responses, yet not stiflingly so, the conversation flowing easily as you two jumped from one topic to another—he wasn’t even exactly sure what you two discussed, just that the words kept flowing out of him as he followed your lead, and for some reason he didn’t want it to end.

He’s not sure how it happened, but that one time conversation soon turned into multiple conversations and he found himself getting strangely attached to you, your excitable personality growing on him as time passed.

Kenma found it endearing how you could be upbeat and ready for an adventure most of the time, but that those times when you simply got tired or weren’t in the mood, you were the complete opposite, either wanting to talk to no one, or claiming that you wanted to talk to no one and secretly actually wanting someone to let you rest your head on their shoulder and just hold you (that’s what he was there for).

If he can tell you’re not in the mood to socialize, he won’t force you to do anything or talk about it if you don’t want to. He’s good at picking up the little cues you put out and you love him all the more for it.

Kenma knows what it feels like to just want some alone time, so it’s common for you two to just hang on in one of your bedrooms on weekends, each of you doing your own thing and not bothering one another. Sometimes one of you will just get up and move closer to the other person, cuddling up under their arm, and no words will be exchanged the entire time. (If you’re sitting between his legs while he plays a video game, he likes to lean down and give you a quick kiss on the forehead whenever he feels like it—come on, you’re right there, how could he possibly resist?)

Nishinoya Yuu

He’s used to Kiyoko outright ignoring him, and even any harsh words from her have him running to go tell Tanaka the “good news” about their latest interaction, so he wouldn’t be put off by your seemingly cold demeanor at all. In fact, he may be even more intrigued. He likes the chase after all.

You were sitting in class one day during a break, spacing off and simply watching your other classmates mingle around the room, and Nishinoya saw this as the perfect opportunity to talk to you, bounding over to you with a spring in his step.

He leaned down close to you, a mischievous smirk matching the playful lilt in his voice. “Hey, (Y/N)-”

He stopped short though when you turned to him smiling and returned the greeting without missing a beat. Wait, what?

In class you always looked bored out of your mind, or just plain angry to be here, unamused look in your eyes and the corners of your mouth downturned. He hadn’t seen you out of the classroom that much, or if he had, you had never been with your friends (so he had missed all the times when you joked around with them), either standing in the hallway alone waiting for someone and on your phone, or walking out of the school after class to head home and looking like you would absolutely fight anyone who prevented you from doing so. Even during group work in class, you were closed off—you had spoken the bare minimum during the majority of that one time that he had been paired up with you.

But now? You were a literal ray of sunshine. Nishinoya blinked at the sight, eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights—and then a giant grin spread across his face. He liked this.

His constant high energy is a great contrast to your sometimes “just done with everything” appearance (also school was absolutely tiring, so it was more likely to catch you in one of your sleepy, unenthusiastic phases than not during particularly high stress weeks).

He’s amazing at dealing with the times you just don’t want to interact with anyone besides him, never forcing you to speak if you’re tired and instead filling up the empty space in the air with his own words while you lean against his chest, you two on his couch and watching a movie during the weekend.

He thinks you’re absolutely badass and the fact that people are easily intimidated by you at first glance is just awesome to him like yes! That’s his baby right there! You should be scared! (But then, of course, people come to realize you’re actually a giant teddy bear inside.) He may or may not ask you to give Asahi some confidence pointers because you both can give off the same energy at times.

Even when you’re in a bad mood, Nishinoya is as vibrant as ever and has an infinite amount of energy and love to devote to you. Sit down with him and just vent all of your frustrations and he’ll make you feel better about everything, hyping you up if you display any sort of worries, and actually racking his brain for solutions to your problems if you ask for his opinion on what you should do (it’s adorable when he sits there with his thinking face on, going full on serious boyfriend mode).

[oingo233]

Rapture is a Boy (6)

Summary: Remus and you have always had a playful, loving relationship but his behavior around the full moon leads you to assume the worst. A huge fight ends with the two of you heartbroken. Will Remus reveal the truth behind his behavior?  And will you still love him afterwards or has he truly lost you forever?

Young Remus Lupin x Reader (Neutral)

Warings: cussing in this one (words such as whore -but not in a negative way really, just the boys “joking” with one another- and other potty mouth words), mentions of cheating(but we all know the truth), overall angst and if I missed any pls let me know

Authors Note: I think we only have ONE more part left!  So lets both rejoice and cry hahaha. This series has had an overwhelming response and I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you guys as friends on here and supporters, like you light up my day and I love you so much.  We recently hit 100 followers!!!! So watch out for a celebration post and what would you like to see for a celebration? Let me know.  I LOVE YOU ALL MORE THAN YOU’LL EVER KNOW!  ANyways, enjoy reading my dears....

Word Count: 2.2k

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight

                                                       Part Six

                                     ****Take a Chance on Me****

I haven’t seen Remus at all, in roughly a day and a half since the morning we broke up.  He missed 1st period yesterday, and I make sure to avoid him in the halls.  I fear that if I caught even a glimpse of him, that my mind would silence itself and my body would fall into his, searching for some type of happiness we once had together.  Hoping it would return.  He hasn’t been to lunches or dinners, never in the common room.  Lily said she saw him often in the library, but refused to tell me more when I pressed for answers.

“You’re just hurting yourself (y/n).  I know it’s hard, but you have to at least try to ease your mind of him, not search for more ways to think of him,” She says, not looking up from her homework at the breakfast table. We just sat down together in the great hall for breakfast, and I asked once again about Remus. 

“I just want to know...I just- was he with her?” I ask dead out, despite the beating and grieving of my heart. She looks up at me with a soft smile.

“No, he wasn’t. I haven’t seen them together since the break up actually. Marlene says she heard her crying yesterday, just round 1st period.” She watches me take in this information with a slow nod. Though she has seen Remus, she has yet to speak to him, holding her own grudge for the way he treated me.  

“Guess he's an all around grade A heartbreaker and prick,” I say, she nods with me.  The mood turned somber at the current topic of conversation. I make quick work to change it, sick of the pitying looks and silence. “But aye, how’s James doing?” I smile, knowing she at least enjoys talking about him.  But my smile fades quickly as hers turns into a deep frown. 

“aven’t spoken to him since... just can’t believe he’d let Remus do such a thing.  Or not tell me or you!  They’re both daft pricks if ya ask me.” She grumbled, scowling as the doors burst open and as if we summoned the whole lot of them...The Marauders walked in.

First it was Sirius.  He strut in with his dark hair bouncing around his shoulder, his Gryffindor tie is like a headband around his forehead which he usually only sports in the common room, teachers tell him way too often to put it back in order. “More of a hassle than a fashion statement during classes, really...” He always says. A tired yet trademark smirk written across his face at the piles of food before him that would easily stir anyone's mood.  The smell alone was fantastic, and he rushed to his seat quickly and wasted no time in setting up his plate. 

Then, as if fate wanted me to suffer, Remus walked in slowly.  His head held high and shoulders pulled back, he is wearing a button up shirt that seemed rather bulky and his robes cascade behind him like rolling waves as he runs a hand through his slightly messy hair.  His wide doe eyes find mine and in them the truth is revealed.  

He is not as relaxed as the ease in his walk may suggest, he was not as happy.  Deep within his eyes I seemed to get sucked into a whirlpool of heartbreaking sadness, anger and what seems to be a plead.  Look at me, he pleads, try and understand me once again.  I break away from the eye contact and time resumes itself.  We are no longer lovers stuck in resign, no, we are now just stuck in our own minds.

I was so caught up in thought that I didn’t see the next two marauders walk through the door.  Was Remus wearing sparkly eye shadow? Looks nice, I think, ugh no you don’t like cheating pigs (y/n), I tell myself.  I question to myself and analyze our first encounter in two days so much that I miss the way Lily cleared her throat as Peter and James sat down in front of us. Scooting the giggling girls out of the way with their wiggling bums, just to fit. But I did not miss the way Lily’s hard voice rang out.

“What do you want?” She said. Shuffling nervously in her seat as James gives her a desperate and sad face, a frown tugging at his lips until he forces it into a smile.

“Nice to see you too, Evans,” He says, he turns to me and now both him and Peter were staring up at me.  “How are you (y/n)?” Peter asks, the whole table could feel how hard he was bouncing his leg. I grit my teeth trying not to get annoyed with them, Lily was right, maybe they knew about Remus and Lucy and kept it from me.  I raise a brow at the pair and smile sweetly.

“You here as a friend of mine, or a friend of Remus’s?” I ask, my tone dropping to sounding almost blunt and cold, but I keep smiling so to mask my true emotions.  Disappointment and betrayal, all of course stemming from my sadness.

“Uh...” Peter hesitates for just one second too long, James jumps in.

“Here for you of course!” He smiles, bouncing in his seat once with anxiety, smiling into his hand that cupped his chin. Lily narrowed her eyes at him, he was too suspicious, trying too hard. Peter nods quickly but over his right shoulder I glance at a peeking Remus, who quickly turns away and curses under his breath.

“Bullshit.” I say. Laughing to hide my feeling of hurt. They wince with the realization that they’re worse liars than they thought.  “But if you’re going to report this all to Remus, tell him he should check up on Lucy and any other, other partners he may have, instead of wondering about the one that hates his guts.” I continue casually, picking up my toast and biting into it cheerily.

“Well, as Remus’s friend, (y/n), I know that he has only ever loved you.” James says, pushing himself off the counter looking rather upset at my words. James nods at me before walking away, leaving Peter to stare at me blankly, as if trying to figure me out, then looks off sadly to the ground and gets up himself.  

James’s words echo in my head.  Remus has only ever loved me.  I felt dizzy.  None of this makes sense.  Instead of trying to think through things, I let my mouth and emotions take over, I go to say something but my voice cracks.  I clear my throat softly and hastily, before trying again.

“And don’t bother talking to me again unless it is as my friend.  I miss you guys and you’re just breaking my heart too...” My voice became thick despite my anger, I was devastated at the lost of the boys friendship, and above all Remus.  It only hurt more for them to try and use our friendship as some sort of way to console and heal Remus. What about me?  I was their friend, was I not?

3rd POV

James swallows thickly, cheeks blushing at the hard glare Lily gave him.  Both Peter and him slump in posture, seeming to drag themselves shamefully back to their seats with the other two boys.  Peter wanted to cry, he never meant to hurt you.  James wanted to cut off his own tongue, could he do anything right? The two boys continue to think badly of themselves, not even noticing the way Remus was chewing on the skin of his thumb and staring them down for answers and details.

“Well?” Remus says, pulling his thumb back as it began to bleed, filling his mouth with a rather unpleasant taste. Sirius watched as Remus’s face contorted with anxiety and impatience. “What they say?” He asked again, this time lightly bumping his knee into Peter’s who sat closest to him.

Peter only slumps further, sinking his spoon into his bowl of cereal.  James is the one to finally answer him, Sirius and Remus lean closer as James begins to speak.

“Well. To sum it up for ya mate, you’re an asshole and so are we.” Remus and Sirius sink back, Remus stares at James until Peter speaks up.

“They said you...” He shakes his head, not wanting to say further when Remus already looked on the verge of madness.  But then the sly satisfaction of repeating the words to Remus sank in, if Remus was just honest and didn’t ignore you every goddamn second then they all wouldn’t be in this whole mess and you would be feeling a lot happier.  But it was ultimately the look on Remus’s desperate face that broke him.  “They said you should check up on Lucy instead-”

“Or your other girlfriends, or boyfriends or other partner.  As in you’re a whore” James adds both dully and trying to pull a humorous smile from the sullen group, he wanted to quickly take it back with the angry faces of all the boys looking back at him.

Peter gives one last glare to James before continuing “-and to not ask them because they...they don’t currently like you.” Peter finishes. James snorts.

“And that’s putting it lightly.” He says. Sirius ribs him and tries to gauge Remus’s reaction from across the table.  When silence falls over them and Remus looks like he might throw up and cry like yesterday, Sirius begins to speak.

“Except Moony isn’t a whore,” Remus looks up at him almost hopefully, and Sirius continues, praying his speech is as encouraging as it is in his head. “But you were always a whore for (y/n), and they have always, and I mean always, been a whore for you too.” Remus releases the breath he was holding with a roll of his eyes, wanting to just tear their plans for this morning into shreds.  Sirius deflates upon realizing his speech, was infact not at all very inspiring.

But none of the boys had any time to dwell on how colossally bad the morning is already going, instead their was an anxiety welling up in their bellies.  They were going to pull a prank.  Well, not really a prank, but something just as drastic and silly and surely the whole school will see.  But unlike their other pranks, everyone will no without a doubt, that it will be them to blame.  Yet it was something they had to do nonetheless, because it was more than a prank, it was a plan.

A plan to win you back. 

Remus had the idea some time early yesterday, and spent the rest of his hours planning it to perfection, getting components ready, and of course convincing the boys to help.  By the end of the day his hand was cramped and sore from writing all day, his stomach and eyes protesting for both food and sleep, he spent all day in the library getting everything ready. 

 He also owes Peter any chocolate he wants every time they go down to Hogsmeade now and to play fetch with Pads whenever Sirius wanted to get “more exercise than you ever will get in a lifetime. None of you will understand the wonder that is a dog playing fetch, AND I look majestic as hell.” 

But James agreed to do it free of charge. He missed Lily dearly and wanted her back just as much as Remus was hoping to win you back. Of course, none of the boys really cared what they got out of it.  They just wished to see you and Remus happy once again.

The boys all glance back at your table.  You were hunched and your toast was untouched since being with James and Peter, bags heavy and prominent under your eyes and Lily, though trying to be cheerful for you, looked just as gloomily.  James, Sirius, Peter and especially Remus felt absolutely awful. They felt as if heavy rocks of guilt and sadness was being laid upon their chest and they would soon be crushed to death.

“This better work...” James grumbles, dipping his fingers into his pockets and pulling out sparkly blue eye shadow. Quickly, as if scared to get caught, he slips his fingers past his glasses and decorated his eyes with the color. 

 Sirius grabbed the makeup next and even went as far as smearing it messily across his lips. 

 Peter went after, applying it to his cheeks like blush, and if you looked hard enough you’d see actual pink under the blue. They looked gorgeous, though some of the boys felt embarrassed(they all secretly enjoyed it though, Sirius the most). Girls were giggling beside them, James wanted to crawl under the table and hide.  

Remus grabbed gold makeup from his own pocket, already having it on his lids he now placed it on his lips so he looked like both the David Bowie and ABBA that you liked and spoke so highly of. Taking a deep breath he turns to James.

“It will” he says. They all pocket their makeup as music begins to play softly, getting louder until levitating speakers they charmed earlier bursts through the door and blasts the great hall with ABBA ‘Take a Chance on Me”.  The whole of the great hall fell silent as the song shook their breakfast plates and suddenly a button hit one kid in the head and robe was strewn across another.  Everyone stared as The Marauders climbed atop the Gryffindor table...

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