#i’m so normal about them (lying through my teeth)

[aroace-and-has-a-mace]

the mechanisms on shuffle is a fever dream because you’ll go from accidentally marrying a robot, to incredible amounts of arson, to a poly relationship getting drunk, to summoning yog-sotthoth

[caseysventuri]

derek and casey in every episode

s01 e04 puppy dog tails

[starstruckodysseys]

thirsty for blood (actually craving for love) —

a vampire hunter, a vampire, a werewolf, and a witch walk into a high school. unfortunately, it’s not the setup for a joke this time.

(in which vanessa realizes that her friends (and herself?) are magic as hell, actually)

read here on ao3

[luveline]

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐬

You’re in love with Spencer from the minute he gets you in his bed. [4k]

c: fem/afab. smut mdni, p in v sex, oral, fluff, aftercare, early intense feelings, spencer in sweetheart mode, flirting.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

It’s a cold day in November when you see him across the bar. He’s sitting at a table of friends drinking from a tall glass of coke. He’s normal. Non-imposing, undeniably cute, laughing with a smile that shows his teeth. His tie is to his belt and his suit jacket’s been thrown over the back of the chair. 

He looks like he might have fun with you, if you can catch his attention. Something about him seems… eager to please. 

You watch him, and you watch his friend. He seems more your usual type, muscled, confident. He’s the key. You let your gaze linger on the curly-haired boy until the friend glances your way. You give him a look. Hey, who’s your friend?

You look away once you see an arm rise. There’s elbowing, arguing. You sit relaxed at the bar and twists your straw through cherry spritz, ice cubes tinkling. After a minute you think, Oh, come on. After two you worry you aren’t his type. 

Then comes salvation. The curly haired boy slots between your seat and the next, beckoning the bartender forward with a nearly perfect, “Excuse me?” 

“Right there with you.”

You wait. He seems cute, but you’re not trying to take him home if he doesn’t have the chops for it. And not because you see yourself as some deadly thing to be pleased, but you can’t spend another night fluffing someone else’s feathers. 

“Hey,” he says finally, surprisingly without the nerves you’d read before. He must’ve breathed through them. “How’s it going?” 

You lift your gaze from the dark purple of your spritz. The first thing you notice are the beauty marks you couldn’t see before, along his cheeks and hiding among a light shadow of stubble. “Hi, handsome,” you say softly. You can’t imagine him liking a firm touch, but that might become more apparent later on. “Nothing’s going on, I suppose I was just waiting for you.” 

“Yeah?” he asks. 

“Mm-hm.” 

He puts one arm on the bar. You let your eyes dawdle on his hand. “Are you here alone?” 

“I was with a friend,” you confess, lifting your gaze to his, making steady eye contact for as long as he’ll allow you to. His gaze flits to your mouth as you continue. “But she met somebody. I was told not to wait up.” 

“So you’re in need of company?” 

You tip your head to give him the best glance at you, all eyes and gentle smiles as you nod. “Would that be you?” 

“What are you drinking?” 

“Cherry spritzer.” 

“Can I buy you another one?” 

“Just one, please.” You believe in the overarching reach of sexuality, of being with someone, but you don’t believe in drinking and sex, nor allowing a man to pave the way. “This is my first. If I have more than that I’ll be too tipsy to do what I want tonight.” 

“What’s that?” he asks. 

You tap your nose. The boy —the man— to your delight, seems to like the gesture very much. 

The bartender approaches. Your unknown, lovely looking man asks for a coke and a cherry spritzer, extra cherries, though you didn’t tell him too. He nods to your little plate of cherry stems and asks, “Can you tie a knot?” But before you can answer, he adds, “I’m good at it.” 

Spencer proves to be good at a few things. Kissing, touching, his face in sweet places and his spit-wet thumb to a nerve. One moment you’re sitting at the bar wondering if he’ll take you home and the next you’re taking a taxi, you’re lying in his bed being stripped of your stockings, being laid on top of. You didn’t know he had it in him, this sweaty, adoring kissing in the dark; there’s a difference between kissing for hunger’s sake and kissing with love, and for some strange reason Spencer doesn’t seem to know the difference. 

“Have we met before?” you ask, the ache between your legs sharper than ever as his hand flirts with the boundary of your stomach and the apex of you, begging to go back there and prolong what he’d started. 

“No.” His lips are on your neck, kissing as he slips a finger behind your ear. “I’d remember.”

His chest pushes into yours again, triggering a breathy gasp as the button of your nipple takes the brunt of him. He turns your face, that flirting hand abandoning your wanting cunt to squeeze at your sides, your ribs, the soft hill of your breast. 

“Do you wanna cum again?” he asks softly. The best part is that he’s earnest, not a second of bravado in it as he lays his lips against your cheek. 

You could. He’d done stuff with his mouth you’ve never experienced before, fingertips teasing your wetness as he told you something about tantrics and pleasure, his hand under your knee, holding you open. You’d felt so suddenly out of control and —and honestly, you’d thought yourself half in love with him for the way he was kissing you alone. No shyness, but softness. No rushing, no annoyance when it took you time to tip into pleasure. He’d been delighted when you seized, had sat up to draw the climax out with circles, matching pace to your rising chest. 

You slip a hand into his curls and treat him with the same sweetness he’d given you, kissing him like you love him: for whatever time this is, you really do. He’s the prettiest boy you’ve ever fucked. All it took to meet was a snowstorm and a need to escape the rigid cold. 

“I think you should fuck me now,” you say, scratching his scalp lightly, not so frantic, no more pulling. “Please.”

He kisses you, kisses your jaw, and doesn’t pretend he isn’t eager as he snatches the condom from the dresser. For a while things are giggly and breathless, nervous for a pause, then achingly tight. You stay and Spencer wraps his arms behind you, kissing your neck as you let your leg fall to the side. 

“When did you tell me your name?” you ask, breathless again as his kiss matches his rhythm, slow grinds of his hips, flirting as his hand had been, just a few inches from filling you completely. 

“I don’t remember,” he says through a kiss.

“Spencer.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I just thought I’d try it,” you say, covering your eyes with your hand as his hips flex and he touches that worst part of you over, and over, and over. 

Spencer turns your face to take your hand, slowing to a crawl. He checks your gaze, and sinks into you again. Slow fucking, long kisses, his hands rubbing up the juncture of your neck and down again, then stroking your arms, comfort for a pain you don’t feel. 

“What do you want me to do?” he asks quietly. 

“Just this.” 

“No, but what do you want?” he asks, lips pulled into a smile that didn’t quite make it into a laugh. “What feels best? I can get you there again.” 

So you end up more on your side than your back. He helps you lift a leg over his hip and then he’s back to kissing you senseless. You can’t think of anything but being kissed, being fucked, it doesn’t just feel like an okay pastime with a vaguely handsome guy heightened by a drink, it’s fucking with intent. He curls an arm behind your back to hold you against him and he lets you have everything. 

Something must give you away, a shaking leg, the way you breathe; he knows you’re ready before you do, kissing down your chest as his hand sinks between your hot thighs. Slick or not, he finds where he wants to touch, your eyes filling with heat as he slows. 

He draws it out. The second his lips find your chest you trip into cumming for the second time. You hadn’t realised he was close but you cum and he quickly follows, his nose at your collar. He sounds insane. Beggy, breathy moans, a shade from laughter.

“Can I keep going?” he asks just under your ear. 

You can’t say yes fast enough. He’s kind, ignoring your desperate tone. 

You don’t count the number of times you fuck that night. It’s not clear, really. They aren’t separate occasions. You come down and he’s stroking the skin of your neck as you catch your breath, drawing lines down your arm, murmuring, “You okay?” as you nod and slip a hand behind his back. 

He hugs you like he’s known you for years. When you kiss his blushing chest, kiss downward, he turns breathless. It goes on like that for a while. Afterwards, he situates himself between your legs and lets his weight force your thighs into your abdomen, just enough to feel the pressure, searching kisses pressed to your knee. 

It’s not that you fuck all night, it’s just different than before. And when he encourages you under his sheets to lay behind you, there’s a part of you that wants his hand to stray between your legs again, no matter how tired you are. 

“I’d say sorry for keeping you up, but you sounded like you liked it,” he murmurs in the dark, wrapping a solid arm around your stomach and pulling you tightly to him.

You have no regrets. For perhaps the first time ever, it feels as though all your gasps and teary sighs were adored, and not just smugly kept. “You didn’t notice me falling asleep?” 

He laughs at your teasing, his breath kissing the back of your neck. “When did that happen?” 

“…I don’t want to fall asleep, now.” 

“You don’t have to… I can make you a cup of tea, or…” He draws another line down your arm, ending in a swirl before your elbow. “You could shower.” 

Both sound nice, but no. Your legs are still weak from being held, the ache of a good fuck taking home in your stomach. Truthfully, nothing could make you wanna leave whatever it is he’s doing to you now. The shape of his lips warms your shoulder. 

“That was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” he says, wrapping you up all over again. He can’t decide how to hold you. You grab his hand and keep it there under your breasts, letting your eyes flutter closed. 

How can he say that? He has this strange way of touching that’s making you feel yards prettier than you usually do, and he’d just fucked you like a dream. You couldn’t manage that sort of pleasure alone. 

“Where have you been hiding?” you whisper, toying with his fingers. Might as well do everything you can while you can. 

“Nowhere.” 

“So where have you been?” 

He takes a breath. “Turn around?”

You begin turning and he takes you like a dance, leaning in slowly to kiss you, until his smoothness gives way to a smile. He pulls back. In the barest lick of light from the window, you can see a blush spreading across his nose. 

“Sorry. I should ask, I shouldn’t just kiss you,” he says, cupping your cheek. 

How might you go about marrying this boy? You decide to play it cool, kissing him until you fall asleep in his arms, your lips still parted for another lazy press of his as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. 

—

You wake to something new. There isn’t a man against you hinting for a morning tryst, nor an empty bed, a note to let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s a real, gentle hand on your neck. It slides to your shoulder and rubs. 

“You okay?” a voice asks. 

You force your eyes open, blurry vision further occluded by a face. 

His hair is damp. Like he showered a while ago. Spencer’s hand travels to the back of your neck and touches accordingly. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but it’s almost one. I was worried you might be sick.” 

You close your eyes, smiling, better when he scratches the back of your neck with short nails. “I was up late.” 

“I know, I’m  sorry.” 

You wait for him to tell you why you have to leave, any manner of excuse, but nothing comes. 

“So are you? Okay?” he asks gently. 

“I’ll leave soon.” 

“That’s not what I’m trying to say. If you’re not sick, you can go back to sleep.” 

“And just lay in your bed all day,” you murmur, disbelieving. 

“If you wanted to. Or… you can shower, and I can make you something to eat.” His thumb takes to your cheek. One night stand sex can’t be something he does often, or there’s a real possibility that he’s the first man to ever do it right.

His eyes are so much bigger than you realised. “Do you wear glasses?” 

He stammers, embarrassed, “How would you guess that?” 

You raise a hand to his face and draw a short line against his nose. “You have the marks here. Were you reading?” 

“Just while I was waiting for you.” 

“What do you do?” 

“What?” 

“I didn’t ask what you do, I don’t think we managed to ask each other much of anything,” you say, rewarded for your vulnerability with a chest-aching smile, his canine teeth peeking from under his lips. He still looks kissed, lips a shade of sore you’re sure you’d see on yourself in the mirror. 

“I work for the government,” he says, catching your hand to cradle your wrist, “for something called the behavioural analysis unit.” 

“Like, statistics?” 

He lets your hand fall against his chest, a thin grey t-shirt under your knuckles failing to hide the shapes of him, of which you’d explored at length last night. You kissed as much of his chest as you could and it hadn’t felt like enough, Spencer leaner than you’d realised with a stomach on the soft side, easy to kiss relentlessly. 

Your mouth is drying thinking about it. Spencer watches you wordlessly, before saying, “I guess it is like statistics, especially for me. We try to think about serial criminals in terms of their motives. It’s an attempt at math for something not usually quantitative.” 

“And you’re good at it.” 

“I’m good at math, yeah.” 

“Probability of a,” —your breath betrays you, slightly too hopeful as it catches— “morning kiss if I brush my teeth first?” 

His eyes light up. He leans down carefully, and gives you a chaste, firm kiss. 

You forget that you’re naked, not worried about being shy. The sheets fall away from you as you lift up to meet him. He holds them to your naked waist, the other hand skirting just below your breast. You wish he’d touch you like he did last night, but he isn’t so forward. His kiss is kind. You frown as he pulls away. 

“I had a really great time, last night,” he says, tip of his thumb setting your nerves aflame as it drifts over your skin. “Really great.” 

“Me too.” 

“And you’re okay?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Nothing hurts?” he asks. 

“No, of course not.” Your confusion clears. “No, you weren’t like that. I think my legs might be aching but that’ll go away in the shower.” 

“I can run you a bath, if you want. It’s a half bath so you might not be able to stretch out, but it’ll help.” He gives you a smile. The familiarity between you doesn’t want to ebb. 

“Shouldn’t have showered without me,” you say, soft, lest playful be something he doesn’t want on a new day. 

“My hair was greasy. Someone kept touching it.” 

You sit up. Spencer’s hands fall to yours.

It’s hard not to play with someone’s hair when it’s in their face, and when they’re trailing kisses in warm places. He doesn’t blame you really, you can see it in his eyes. 

For a pause, you just sit. 

This is nice. Not being thrown out, left with that aching gap in your chest like you gave something you hadn’t intended when it started. Sex will never be easy again, you realise, not when you know it can be good. 

“You’re not working today, are you?” you ask. 

“No, why?” he asks in turn, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. 

“Maybe we…” He waits. He’s pretty enough to force your hand. “We could get to know each other,” you say, gaze taking refuge on his hands. “If you want to.” 

”Really?” 

“I’ve never had that with someone. Maybe we’re, I don’t know, compatible in more ways than one.” You remember yourself, lifting your head, startled by the sheer want in his expression as he holds your fingers. “You’re handsome, and you seem kind. We could have fun.” 

“We could have so much fun,” he says, that flushed blush already spreading across his nose again. 

You draw a line up his chest. “I might need help getting my back, in the shower. That’s not a tight squeeze, is it?” 

“We might have to stand very close.” 

You giggle wildly as he pulls you up, worse when he drapes a sheet over you worrying about the cold. It’s treatment you could grow used to. 

— 

Spencer’s trying to figure out how he got here. You, across the bar sending him looks —Derek swore you were— and the second he got to your chair he realised you were out of his league, but he had nothing to lose beside his pride. 

Then there was you, in bed, pulling on his tie murmuring sweet somethings, sweet pleadings, really, taking another kiss as he moved as you asked. 

Then you, the morning after. You’d slept for long enough to scare him, but when you woke you were exactly the girl you’d been the night before, only slower. Ever so slightly bashful. We could get to know each other. 

Spencer’s not sure how he managed it, but you don’t go home. And on Monday you go to work and come back. On Tuesday he meets you outside of your building to take you for dinner, and you come back with him again, another night up in his arms, tangling his hair with enthusiastic fingers. The sex is good, it is, not just ‘cos his past catalogue of lays were with women who wanted casual experiences solely, or those few times with Ethan where it ended too fast and left him useless. You fuck him like you love him. It’s crazy, except he’s acting the same way. 

When you’re not fucking you’re in his lap, or sitting at the coffee table with your face on his thigh driving him crazy, or you’re laying with your feet tucked under him telling him something about you. He is desperate for the details. 

Like, this is it. You’ve pulled your chair as close to his as humanly possible and thrown both legs over his, basically sharing his seat as you laugh around a messy mouthful of Thai noodles. 

“Don’t look, I’m being disgusting–”

“You’re never disgusting, let me–”

He’s heard you pee. He’s kissed you all over. The human aspects of you don’t bother him. 

“Spence, can you–”

“It’s going up your nose–”

“–stop, holy s–”

He pinches your nose clean. “Tada. Kiss now?” 

“You wanna share?” 

“Yes!” 

“No.” You press your hand to your mouth before he can lean in.

He lets you swallow your mouthful. Your ankle is cool in his hand. When people talk about love, it’s about meeting someone, the dates and the phone calls, the big questions. Spencer didn’t know you could do it like this. Every time you go home, you’re asking if you can come back or pestering him to come your way. 

“Can I kiss you now?” he asks imploringly. 

“No, we’re done kissing for a bit. I want another one of those massages.” 

He can’t joke about it or he’ll turn crimson. You enjoyed a polite leg massage, until he got to your thighs, and things got out of hand. 

“No massages.” He taps you under the chin, letting his hand travel wherever it wants over the side of your face. 

“Fine, no massages. Unless you want one?” 

“No, we agreed tonight we’d just– sleep. My boss is onto me.” 

You wink involuntarily as he cups your cheek, his fingers pushed lightly over your eyes.

You aren’t fiends, but finding someone who matches as you do makes it hard to abstain from the fun. Last night was tame, though; he’d made sure you were happy and fallen asleep to grateful neck kisses. Tonight, he won’t say no, but these all-hours affairs have to stop. Derek’s suspicious of him, Hotch has the situation entirely sussed, he's sure, and Spencer’s sixty percent sure Rossi saw you both outside of Quantico tonight kissing against a toll booth.  

Not that it matters. Spencer has a good feeling you’re not a fling. 

“I got you some stuff earlier,” he says. 

You pull his hand from your face and ask, “What stuff?” 

“Like, stuff you need here. I don’t know what you like, but there’s a cleansing balm– are you allergic to chamomile?” You shake your head. “Um, it might be weird, I got you underwear, just ‘cos of the situation yesterday–”

“I liked wearing boxers, they were snug in a certain region is all–”

“–and some shampoo. That sort of stuff. Just so you can stop suffering with mine.” 

“You know what shampoo I use?” 

“I deduced it.” 

“Ah, yes, mister profiler,” you mumble, bending into your knees to hold his face. “If I hadn’t looked you up online I’d think you were a stalker. How can you guess my favourite ice cream flavour when I never told you?”

He smiles shyly. “I just can.”

“Is there anything else you’ve guessed about me?” 

“Every meal with you takes a half hour. You’re easily distracted.”

He laughs as you protest, “You’re distracting! You don’t need to guess that.” 

“You distract me, too.” 

You gather yourself up and stand over him to kiss his nose. “Spencer,” you whisper, your fingers sliding into his hair, “thank you. You don’t have to buy me stuff, I could’ve just gone home.”

“I don’t really want you to.” 

You raise your head to see him eye to eye. “I don't want to either. This is… I like you.” 

He hums, wrapping his arms around you. The hugs are rarer than kisses, but only because you’ve shared so many of the latter in the dark. He’s been thinking of kisses as the extension to fucking, that they’re okay as long as it’s done in bed, but the more time you stay, the more kisses you’ve shared for no reason at all. You kissed his cheek on the train earlier and he felt it like a shock, tipping his chin down to peck you on the lips, your arm curled behind his back as the traincar rattled over a bend. 

“I like you too,” he laughs. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, of course I do.” 

“Not just…” 

“It’s not just the sex,” he says, waving his hand behind your shoulder as you curl into him all over again. It feels amazing. 

“Should we go out, then?” 

“We do.” 

“No, should we date? We could be partners, officially.” 

Spencer can’t take it, scooping you into his lap, though you do sit obligingly on his thigh. He shifts to take the weight. 

“Please, let’s be partners,” he says softly. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t, it’s still soon.” 

“Five days and counting. That’s longer than some marriages, you know.” 

“Maybe we can be, like, tentative boyfriend and girlfriend. If you change your mind, no hard feelings.” 

“And if I don’t?” he asks. 

“Then we get married in Vegas.” 

“You could meet my mom.” 

“I’d love to meet your mom.”

“Do you really wanna be my girlfriend?” he asks. 

“I mean… there’s not such a big difference in dating and what we’re doing, right? This is relationship stuff, we just sort of skipped the awkward first dates.” 

“We did,” he says, failing to hide his grin. 

You stroke his cheek with your nose.

Your attempt at abstinence doesn’t last, but neither party is to blame. You have to celebrate somehow. So you finish your takeout dinner and wash dishes bumping hips. He locks the door for the night and you, giggling, struggle to change his A/C. When he drags you by the sleeve to the bedroom, he doesn’t intend on jumping right into it, and for a while he doesn’t. You lay on top of him between his parted legs and he spends a sluggish hour stroking your hairline, listening to you talk. But his devotion turns to your ear, and he’s kissing behind it, and you’re hitching yourself up his chest soon enough. 

“That cherry spritzer was worth it, huh?” you ask lowly, scratching his jaw as you sit over him.

You really are pretty, amplified by your syrupy smile. 

“I guess that depends what you think. Was I as good at making knots as I promised?” he asks. 

“I can’t remember.” 

“I can remind you?”

“That might be prudent, Dr. Reid.” 

“I never should’ve told you about that,” he murmurs, your lips atop his, ready to be parted. 

“I would’ve found out eventually. I’m gonna find out everything about you, honey.” 

Spencer lets his eyes shutter closed. Me first, he thinks, giving in to another endless kiss. He has the advantage, after all. 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

thank you for reading!! if you enjoyed please consider liking reblogging or leaving a comment/reply it makes my day and I am so grateful<3 

[rongloa]

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 (𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞) — m. grayson drabble

𝐰𝐜. 630

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. doormat behaviour (not really you love him), fluff but it’s barely there, a tiny bit of angst but that’s because i can never be happy

𝐚/𝐧. i think if i knew mark, i would know. and i know it’s not acceptable to let someone walk over you and not tell them why you’re doing it, but he’s going (and been) through a lot. amen my children

You could never tell him that you know.

You act surprised when he runs off mid-conversation, mouth half-open like the girl who doesn’t understand why her newly dubbed boyfriend just vanished behind a fast food joint. You’ve practiced that look in the mirror, just in case. Ran yourself through how a girlfriend that didn’t know would react, even picked your friend’s minds. “How would you react if your boyfriend disappeared on a date?”

Their answers weren’t all that bad, mostly a mix of disgust and frustration— there was a random calm one that had you worried about how she was doing with her boyfriend.

But what would you say, really?

“Hey baby, I’ve known you’re Invincible for months now. I saw the blood on your shirt before you had time to change. I recognized your voice when you saved those people downtown. You leave handprint shaped bruises on my hips and back when you’re exhausted from superhero-ing.”

He’s not good at hiding things. Not from you anyways. Not when you know the way his voice cracks when he’s lying. Not when you’ve memorized the shape of every bruise he forgets to cover.

But still—you let him think he is. If not for your own sanity, then his.

Some days, you almost tell him. You think—this is the moment—when he crawls through your bedroom window because he’s too tired to go home. His hair is windswept, cheeks and nose a flushed red from the biting winter breeze, and because you quite literally watched him fight with his supersuit beside your flowerbed of lillies.

But then he says the thing that makes your heart soften into mush and your resolve to do the big reveal slips through your fingers like air. “I just needed to see you,” he mumbles it into the bare skin of your shoulder, teeth catching the smallest bit on your collarbone. Still trying to smile for you.

You wrap your arms around him like you’re trying to hold in all his jagged pieces. Kiss the side of his head, even though his hair’s sweaty. Feel the way he leans into you, like you’re gravity and he’s tired of orbiting alone. Drag your fingertips along the dips and bumps of his spine like you can stitch him back together.

“I’m right here,” you whisper. I always am.

You always are.

Sometimes, you think he knows. That he’s just waiting for you to say it. Like you’re both holding guns at your sides, fingers resting on triggers you’re too afraid to pull. It’s funny, in a way that makes you sick, how he can take punches from gods and aliens, bleed in space, crash through concrete walls—and yet he flinches at the thought of one human truth, one from a girl who bakes him cookies and kisses his bruises like they’ll fade faster if she means it hard enough.

You’ve seen what this life does to people. You’ve seen blood drip onto your doorstep and gotten calls at 2:00 a.m. that make your heart stop. And still—still—you stay. You pretend to be normal. You laugh when he makes dumb jokes, you hold his hand when his lip is split, and you say you’re okay when he forgets your birthday because he was off-planet. You stay because someone has to, because you don’t think anyone else would. You don’t do it out of pity, out of selfish love.

You are in love with a boy made of breaking points. A boy who holds the sky in his hands and still doesn’t know how to hold you without trembling.

And yet—you don’t break.

One night, he falls asleep with his head in your lap. He’s heavy. Warm. So real, it makes your ribs ache. Those long dark lashes are shadows against his bruised cheekbone, and he sighs in his sleep like he’s letting go of something he doesn’t even know he’s carrying. Like even being a Viltrumite isn’t enough to guarantee forever.

You run your fingers through his hair. Soft, gentle strokes, like turning the pages of a book you’ve read a hundred times but still love. A soft coo, a name that you roll over your tongue like the sweetest brown sugar, “Mark?”

He stirs, lashes fluttering even though his eyes can barely stay open. He hums, gravel-soft.

You nod, even though his eyes are already fluttering closed again. “I love you, baby.”

He smiles, and it’s so soft you feel it in your bones, feel it crack something hidden deep behind your sternum. Then he settles back into the plush of your thighs, trusting you with himself—his love, his secrets, even if he doesn’t know you already carry them all like a second heart.

You don’t need to tell him.

Not yet. Not for a long time yet.

Not when he already does these things that make you feel like you’re the only thing holding him down.

[enwoso]

Possibly leah can propose to alessia, and get lovie involved or leah moves in permanently and lovie only wants to sleep with them. Hope the writers block goes away

sleep scares | alessia russo x leah williamson x child!reader

i’m back! well sort of-

just a quick lil something as i feel as though i’ve lowkey forgotten about yall. but i promise it’s with good reason, life’s been busy and i’m on holiday rn but im hoping when i get home i can get back to normal and start to get some more fic/blurbs out for you all🙃

grumpy masterlist

as a baby and as you grew that little bit older, alessia could generally say she had been quite lucky with how easy it was for you to get to sleep.

she had never really had any issues with you waking up during the night — of course there had been the odd occasion when you’d been poorly but other than that, you liked sleeping in your own bed.

however, ever since your little mind had discovered the secret of your mummy and leah and the fact they were more than friends. your bed and room wasn’t as comfy and cool anymore. you instead now wanted to be in your mummy’s bed watching whatever silly adult show was showing on the tv sneaking a few sweets which you really shouldn’t be having after brushing your teeth.

this cycle had occurred more often when leah was staying the night, “how long do you think it’ll be until lovie’s wondering through the door?” alessia whispered as the two were lying tangled together in bed, the only light coming from the tv which was on a low hum.

“hm i’d give it at least thirty minutes” leah rasped out as she ran a hand through alessia’s hair, alessia humming in response, sinking deeper into leah’s arms.

the two knew that there time together wouldn’t last long until you were tip toeing sleepily into the room with your elephant under your arm as your eyes were filled with sleep.

alessia and leah had dosed off, the tv playing adverts as the door creeped open. you tip toeing so lightly, as you climbed into the bed from the bottom. sinking yourself inbetween the two.

alessia feeling the movement, as her eyes opened slightly. “lovie? what you doing?” your mummy questioned as she sleepily yawned, moving a little from leah’s warmth. you sat in the middle of the bed on your knees, a sleepy look on your face.

“can’t sleep, there noises in my room” you pouted as your shoulders sunk down. a flash of worry came across alessia’s face as her brow furrowed downwards slightly.

“what do you mean noises?” alessia asked as she sat up, her back resting against the headboard of her bed reaching over to turn on the side lamp. moving with much caution hoping not to wake the sleeping blonde beside her. knowing the grumpy mood she would wake in if she was woken up from her slumber.

are you sure it’s not just the wind?” alessia pushed more knowing sometimes the sound of the wind can sometimes make some scary noises.

you shrugged, a small yawn falling from your lips. “i sleep in here” you cutely asked, your eyes forming a pleading look as a small sigh came from your mummy’s lips.

“do you not want mummy to come and lie in your bed with you?” she asked, hopeful that would be the best solution. but you shook your head, the bed slightly shaking as you did so.

alessia surrendering as she whispered out a yes, not wanting the hassle of trying to coax you back into your own bed as admittedly she just wanted to get back to sleep herself.

your mummy moving slightly to make a small gap in the bed for you to lie in as a small smug smile of victory flashed across your lips as you flopped into bed. your mummy placing a kiss to your cheek as she whispered good night in your ear, circling small shapes on your back.

it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep as your chest started to rise slower indicating you had fell asleep, alessia still tracing shapes on your back as she noticed leah starting to move around.

leah’s eyes opening for a split second before they closed but even through the darkness alessia never missed the small smile which was on her lips.

“at least it was longer than the thirty minutes we thought” leah whispered out as a quiet chuckle left alessia’s lips.

[starryhyuck]

only yours. (m) — PATREON EXCLUSIVE

pairing: brothersbestfriend!mark x afab!reader

words: 3.3k+

summary: the normally polite mark lee has suddenly lost his temper around you.

genre: smut

warnings: brief jaemin x reader, fingering, public sex, jealous!mark, possessive!mark, blowjob, creampie

this fic is exclusive to both tiers on my patreon, which you can access here! below is a tumblr preview

“Jisung’s hanging out at one of those nerdy conventions this weekend,” you murmur to Minjeong, your phone pressed in between your ear and shoulder.

“Oh yeah? Is he your new boy for the week?”

“You make it sound like I’m getting ass all the time,” you reply with a roll of your eyes, scanning the fridge and silently cursing Chenle for consuming everything in his path. “Jisung’s just fun for now. He buys me pretty flowers and cute necklaces.”

“You’re so lucky,” Minjeong sighs into the receiver. “Do you know what Yizhuo and I had to suffer through last night? The men in these clubs, I’m telling you, they’re getting all their pickup lines from those ridiculous online forums. I couldn’t even understand what half of them were saying most of the time!”

You laugh at her troubles. “Why don’t you just go after Jaemin? He’s an easy catch.”

She scoffs. “Yeah, for you. Everyone knows he has a huge crush on you.”

You pour yourself a glass of orange juice as you say, “Jaemin does not have a crush on me.” When you turn around to return the carton to the fridge, you gasp when you see Mark standing underneath the entrance to the kitchen. You hold a hand over your heart and glare at him. “Jesus, Mark. You scared the shit out of me.”

Mark is usually cordial with you, smiling politely and engaging in small talk. Someone clearly must have pissed him off, however, because he does nothing but clench his jaw and move past you to beeline to the pantry.

He aggressively gathers a few bags of chips in his arms, huffing to himself. You narrow your eyes and tell Minjeong, “Let me call you back.”

When you hang up the phone, you throw Mark an expectant look, fully awaiting for him to explain his actions.

“What?” He says curtly, not glancing towards you as he kicks the pantry closed.

You scoff. “You’re not going to explain what’s crawled up your ass?”

He laughs. “Are you going to explain why you feel the need to flirt with every boy you come across?”

Your jaw drops at the accusation. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

Mark has never spoken to you this way before. He’s always been overly polite, treating you carefully because you’re Chenle’s sister. Even when you and Chenle delve into tiny spats with one another, Mark refuses to get caught in the middle or take a particular side. This ill-tempered nature is a completely new color for him.

He snickers before shouldering past you. He doesn’t answer your question, forcing you to follow after him towards the backyard. Chenle is attempting to dunk baskets out there, screaming when he realizes he’s not tall enough to reach. Mark opens a bag of chips, offering them to your brother while he sets the other packets to the ground. You’re still hovering near him, hands on your hips, waiting for him to reply to you.

“What’s up with her?” Chenle asks, greedily shoving his entire hand into the bag and scooping half of its contents into his mouth.

“She was just talking to another one of her boyfriends on the phone. She got annoyed I interrupted her,” Mark explains, lying through his teeth.

You wiggle your finger at him like a mom on the verge of an outburst. “That is not what happened! And Jaemin is not my boyfriend!”

Chenle scoffs. “Na Jaemin? That dude keeps asking me about you. It’s gross.”

“Mark is the one who outright slut shamed me in my own home!” You say, pointing at him as if Chenle would defend your honor right then and there. Your brother’s never really been one to step in for you, and he definitely wouldn’t do so in front of arguably his favorite person in the world.

Mark casually takes the basketball from underneath Chenle’s arm, dribbling it as he replies, “Don’t know what she’s talking about, bro.”

Chenle yawns, unamused by the situation. “Me either, dude. She’s always talking shit like that.”

It’s then that you decide Mark Lee has declared himself as your ultimate enemy.

want to read the rest? access both tiers on my patreon here!

[krosiefics]

a taste of dispatch • danceracha x reader

M D N I 18+

WC: 3k

Summary: you are a Dispatch reporter, and while following some members of Stray Kids, you finds yourself in a situation, where the three members of DanceRacha wanna fuck you?

Tags: afab!reader, submissive!felix, dom!minho, switch!hyunjin, dispatch!reader, cnc(kinda), pure smut, pwp(?), piv, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), foursome, grinding, use of y/n, rough sex(?), overstimulation, cowgirl, doggy style, missionary,fingering…I feel like I’m forgetting some sorry

Today started off like any other day, another normal daily routine, get up, go to work, stay outside entertainment companies to snap photos of idols for the public. Sure people say your job is wrong and immoral, but you’ve gotta survive somehow. And that leads you to right now. Standing outside the JYPE building, no idols were scheduled to make a public appearance here today, but sometimes you like to come to the companies in case there is a sighting. The unannounced ones usually sell for more money.

It's cold and raining out today, it’s also near midnight. As you’re about to leave, three figures caught your eye as they walked out of the entrance of JYPE. Two of them had hoodies over their heads and another with a bucket hat, all three had masks on. Sure they could be employees of the place but one of them had purple hair poking out of his bucket hat. That made you suspicious of them.

You discreetly followed behind them, not too close but enough to make out their faces. Even through the masks you could tell it was the dance subunit of Stray Kids, DanceRacha.

They made their way down the streets of Seoul with two umbrellas in their hands as if they were any other person, bystanders too immersed in their own world to even bat an eye at them. They stroll down a popular club district street and look around before walking into a building with almost no light except the one outside. Heh, got you now. You think to yourself as you follow them in. You’re not dressed like how you’d think a paparazzi would, you have casual clothes that you dressed up slightly. You never want the idols you follow to realize they’re being followed by Dispatch. Sometimes you feel bad for the idols that you’re practically forced to follow. You want to give them their personal space, but making a living is hard and you’re not about to go sell feet pics online.

You open the door to the building and take only a few steps in before the door is slammed behind you and an audible click is made. Though it was dark, the faint light from outside shined through the small window by the door allowing some light inside. You whipped my head around to the door and there stood, in all his glory, the Hwang Hyunjin.

“See I knew someone was following us hyung.” He smirks down at you, a small huff escaping his lips. “What do you want from us, pretty lady?” You did not expect him to say that- especially the way he did…so sultry.

“What sorry,” You threw your hands up weakly in defense, “who are you?” “Don’t act coy with us doll, you’re one of those stalker sasaengs aren’t you?”

You pinch your brows with disgust, “First of all, how dare you think I’m a ‘sasaeng’, and second I don’t even know who you people are-“

“Then why were you following us all the way from the company building?” The freckled faced idol asked. “I had just gotten out of work and it started pouring as I was passing that tall building you three came out of, I was hoping to ask if you had an extra umbrella, I noticed you came inside and so I took the opportunity to ask.” You lie through my teeth, hoping your facade would fool them. You had to admit it was a stupid lie and wasn’t likely going to fool them, but you still had to try at least.

“Oh.” Hyunjin frowned, “I’m sorry, I just assumed-“

“She could be lying.” The cold faced man who hadn’t said a word spoke up. Minho eyed you up and down as you coward. “I’m not- I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your hair.” You back up towards the door. “You’re not going anywhere, doll.” Hyunjin says as leans against the door sexily.

“You really don’t know us darling?” Felix speaks up, asking as if they were the most known people throughout Korea, which is true, they are one of the most known people in Korea. “No, I don’t really keep up with celebrities or influencers.” You fib. “So, what do you do for fun then, doll?” The taller of the three looks over you.

“Take a walk…go shopping? I don’t really get too much time off work.” Now that’s not a lie, you don’t really get to do “fun things”. You follow idols around even when you’re not scheduled to.

“Do you wanna have some fun?” Felix moves closer to you. “What?”

“With us.” He responds.

Wait what-

Suddenly a hand wraps around your hip, squeezing at the flesh there. You know it’s Hyunjin, he’s the only one who is behind you. The touch of his lips on the side of your neck makes your body tense. What the fuck is happening right now?!

You laugh awkwardly trying to get these boys off, suddenly Minho inched his way closer to you, he reached his hand out and took hold of your backpack strap, sliding it down ever so slowly all while maintaining eye contact with you, it gave you butterflies. “What are you-“ He cuts you off with a kiss on the corner of your lips, you struggle to wiggle your way out of their grasp but as Minho’s lips move further down your neck, it feels just too damn good to not want more.

“Hey I wanna taste.” Felix mumbles from behind. Felix takes Minho’s place, leaving wet kisses along your neck. Unbeknownst to you, Minho started searching your bag. “Hah, so you are a sasaeng.” He says holding your camera. Shit. “No, I’m not.” You protest sternly, the younger boys are indifferent to the fact that Minho just pulled out a professional camera. “Oh, Dispatch.” He pulls out your employee badge from the side pocket of the backpack. “Miss…Y/N.”

“So you do know us doll.” Hyunjin licked a stripe up your neck.

Shit shit shit, how do I get outta this situation?!

“Hyung.” Felix whines in your ear as he suddenly starts grinding against your hip. “H-Hey!” You stutter through your teeth while Hyunjin stops his verbal teases and lets his mouth wander up your neck towards your cheek. “Wh-What are you gonna do to me?” You cower as Minho steps in front of you, he leans forward so that his face is a few inches away from yours. “Whatever you want, want us to make you feel good? You could write an article on how good we fuck you.” You gulp at his words. You can feel his breath on your face as his eyes flicker down at your lips, you subconsciously lick them triggering a smirk from the older boy.

“Would you like that? Hyune’s mouth on your tits,” Minho hisses as he, hesitatingly, cups your breast through your shirt. He raises his eyebrows at you as if he were asking you if you were okay with what he was doing to your body. You notice his antics, You bite your lower lip, nodding at him to continue.

“Really? Hyune, I think she wants your mouth on her tits.” Hyunjin perked up at Minho’s sultry words. “Can I kiss you here doll?” Despite all of their actions so far, Hyunjin stills asks for consent to kiss you on the lips. You nod in response though he shakes his head, “Words darling.”

“Yes, please.”

What is happening right now? Why am I letting them do this, why do I want them to do this?!

The overwhelming lust that fills your mind begins to overload as Hyunjin locks his lips on yours. His lips were slightly chapped though you didn’t care, they felt so good against yours. His hands swat Minho’s away and roughly cups your breasts, you gasp at his action, he takes the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. You failed to notice Felix pulling away from your hip, not until you opened your eyes while Hyunjin slipped his hands under the hem of your t-shirt.

Felix sat on a sofa nearby palming his crotch through his pants. Minho was fiddling with something on the wall, he finally managed to find whatever he was looking for and a light appeared from a side table by the sofa. Though it was a small light, it illuminated the room, allowing you to see the boys who surrounded you in better lighting.

“Sofa?” Hyunjin hummed against your lips, you hummed against his lips in response, not wanting to pull away.

Hyunjin placed his hands on your hips and guided your bodies towards the couch. He lowered his body onto the sofa, you settling on top of him as his hands explored the sides of your torso. A pair of cold hands touched you on your lower back under your shirt, hesitantly pulling it up. You tilt your head to the man who is doing the action, Hyunjin continues kissing your cheek and neck messily. Felix frowns at you as if he was just caught doing a crime.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. You simply shake your head, lifting your shirt over your head, allowing the blonde freckled boy to gaze over your exposed chest. Though you’re still wearing a bra, you can tell he’s imagining you without it. Hyunjin pulled away from you when you took off your shirt, you glanced back over at him as he stared hungrily at your open skin.

“Hyung, how do you want us?” He asks Minho without ever looking away from you and your body.

Almost forgetting the eldest was in the room, you turned your head around towards the purple haired man. His eyes pierced into your own, as if he was waiting to attack. Minho purses his lips in thought as he nears the two of you again. “Well since I doubt Felix will last any longer, let him fuck her first, no?”

“Hey!” Felix exclaims as if he were offended, but secretly he was glad that he was offered to go first. Hyunjin simply shrugged in agreement, “Lix, how do you want her?”

“Shit,” The freckled boy breathed out as his hands went to your hips, “on top.” He said after a few moments. Hyunjin swiftly guided you off of his body and held you as Felix quickly undid his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down in one go before positioning himself next to Hyunjn.

Hyunjin’s thin hands caressed your sides as he helped you out of your sweatpants and guided your legs over Felix. The youngest boy stroked his cock as you settled yourself just under it, on his thighs. “Shit, can’t hold out much longer. Need to be in you darling.” Felix whined as he gathered your pantie lining and moved it to the side, allowing his cock to rub against your bare pussy.

“Oh God.” You moan out as you feel his warmth touch your skin. A pair of callused hands grab you by the waist hoisting you up slightly before aligning you to sink on to Felix’s cock. “Oh fuck!” You yelped the sudden intrusion causing your back to arch. Felix’s face scrunched up in pleasure as he filled your core with his warmth. Suddenly a pair of hands grip your hips, before even allowing you to adjust to the freckled boy’s size, lifting you slightly before guiding you to drop back down again. Another pair of hands made their way to your breasts, roughly massaging them as the other male forced you to bounce on Felix’s cock.

“W-Wait! Hyung!” Felix hands shoot up to your thigh, his fingers bruising them with how tightly he’s gripping them. “Shit, Imma cum.” Felix whines, his usual low pitched voice rising a few octaves at the stimulation. “It’s okay Lixie, you can cum. I wanna have my go soon.” Hyunjin said as he unclasped your bra, pulling it off your body and returning his hands to your now exposed breasts. The blonde’s hip starts desperately rutting up into your cunt. You support yourself by gripping onto Felix’s shoulder as the blonde thrusts into you and the oldest out the three boys gripped your hips, continuously pushing you down onto his younger friend’s cock.

Murmurs of curses flooded from Felix’s mouth, his usually tanned skin was now a shade of deep pink. His eyes shut and brows furrowed with pleasure. A few moments later of continuous assault to your lower region, the freckled boy finally spills inside of you. “Shit…my turn.” Hyunjin sighed before helping lift you from the painting boy underneath. “Look at her pretty tits, they’re so red from you grabbing them Hyune.” Minho smirked from behind you. He had detached his hands from your hips after Felix had cummed, you could still feel the pressure on your skin though.

“Hey doll?” You look to your left at the boy who was holding you up. You hum at him in question, “Can I bend you over?” Your cheeks flushed more than they already were, you simply nodded in response. Hyunjin shook his head disapprovingly, “I need you to say it please.” You hesitantly looked at his eyes before moving your body over the sofa, “Bend me over Hyun.”

Something snapped inside of Hyunjin, because next thing you know you already have his cock drilling inside you, the wet noises of your previous orgasm and Felix’s cum filled the room. “Shit, you look pretty like this, doll.” Hyunjin grunts as his hips falter slightly at his fast pace.

“You’re missing the way they’re bouncing though.” Minho hummed from your left, his eyes trailing over your chest.

Hyunjin’s thin hand moves to grope the flesh at your chest. His hips snapping into you as his free hand holds your waist. Your back aches from the position you hold over the sofa. Suddenly, a sharp pain spreads through your ass, a loud slap sound accompanying the pain. “Fuck doll, you’re ethereal.” Hyunjin sighed as his hips sloppily thrusted into your cunt. You knew he was close due to his sudden speed and uncoordinated ruts.

Soft groans slipped out of Hyunjin as he peaked at his climax, he poured himself into you. His arousal mixing with yours and Felix’s. Your arms gave out under you, you plopped onto the couch in a very uncomfortable position, though you could care less. Your body was too tired to care about comfortability. “So good.” Hyunjin breathed out to himself by your ear.

The tall boy slowly pulled out of your abused cunt. Flinching at the overstimulation, your eyes shut tightly. “Fuck kitten, you just had to take a break before my turn?” Minho’s voice was heard from behind. The purple haired man gently guided your body to turn over into a more comfortable position. Though it was weird to you that Minho was being so gentle as opposed to the way he was practically manhandling you prior.

“Here, just spread open for me, okay?” Minho cooed, bringing your legs apart leaving them to hang off the edge of the couch on each side of his hips. Allowing yourself to be used, your eye fluttered open from the sensation of another foreign force entering your leaking cunt. You whimpered as Minho slipped his cock inside you, though it was uncomfortable you didn’t want him to stop, you wanted more even though it started to hurt.

“Wait Min.” You weakly grabbed onto his biceps as he began thrusting into you. You whimpered as he talked you through it. “C’mon kitten, you can do it. Just let me use your tight little pussy for a little longer, yeah?” Minho’s breath ran down your neck, sweat beads falling, his hair sticking to his forehead. Your hands make their way to Minho’s back, scratching at the skin whenever he’d push too deep.

Your eyes filtered across the room landing on the two other boys who just stared at you with awe.

You weren’t self conscious this whole time, but now having made eye contact with the other two, that unusual feeling began to set in. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what you might look like right now. You grew embarrassed by the thoughts of what the others could be thinking.

Felix and Hyunjin watched as Minho’s hips thrusted into yours so sensually, as your legs hesitantly wrapped around his waist- pulling Minho closer, they watched as you cried moans while maintaining eye contact with them. Just you laying there all open for Minho, the way he used you, it made them want to cum again.

A few moments later Minho finally reached his climax, his orgasm spilling over inside of you. You felt so warm inside, the feeling of the three’s cum filling you made you tingly. After cleaning up the mess they had made on the sofa and on you, they help you get redressed before redressing themselves. None of them thought it would get this far and you’d actually do the deed with them, they didn’t know what to do next…or better yet how to leave without seeming like a heartless asshole.

“You okay?” Minho asked as he handed you your work backpack, you nod at him with a tired smile. “I didn’t go too far?” His demeanor shifted, hoping that he really didn’t overstep any unspoken boundaries. “No, you’re fine. It honestly helped me relax from the stress of work…though my back does hurt like a bitch.” You chuckle, massaging your lower back.

“Here’s some water, pretty.” Felix smiled, handing over a glass of water. You take a small sip before your attention is turned to your phone. It’s ringing. You reach over for the phone and notice it’s your boss calling. Shit. You pick up the phone only for your boss to yell at you for not submitting photos that were due earlier that day, on time. “Sorry, I’ve got to go.” You sigh after hanging up, grabbing all your things making sure you look ‘okay’.

“C’mere.” Minho motions for you to follow him out the front door, “We’ll make it seem like you happened to run into us.”

Hyunjin and Felix ran out after him. The rain had quieted down a bit to a small drizzle. “Stay there and just get a good shot.” Hyunjin winked.

You pull out your camera before snapping a quick photo when the three of them were distracted.

Maybe your job wasn’t so bad after all.

[lvrsatoru]

╭ pairing ⸺ gojo satoru x gn!reader

╭ drabble! ⸺ you’re assigned on a mission you know you won’t come back from. gojo doesn’t know how to handle it. ˖ ⟡ sorry for the angst it’s 1:56 am and i js love him so much

✶⠀‧ . ⊹ ┊

the rest of the evening passes in tense, suffocating silence. satoru doesn’t say another word after telling you to just leave if you really wanted to, but it lingers between you, the anger, the bitterness, the fear he couldn’t bring himself to fully articulate.

you move like a ghost through the apartment, finishing your packing, brushing your teeth, washing your face. it feels wrong to act so normal when the air around you is thick with everything unspoken. you can feel his eyes on you sometimes, watching from the corner of the room, but every time you glance at him, he looks away.

he doesn’t touch you. doesn’t help you. doesn’t say anything.

it isn’t until you’re both in bed, the lights off, that the silence starts to crack under its own weight. you’re lying on your side, your back to him, staring at the wall. he’s on his back, staring at the ceiling.

“you know, i used to think you were invincible,” he says suddenly, his voice low, quiet. it almost startles you, not because of what he’s said, but because it’s the first time he’s spoken in hours.

you turn your head slightly, but not enough to face him. “what do you mean?”

he exhales sharply, like he’s trying to laugh but it comes out bitter instead. “when we first met, i thought nothing could ever hurt you. you were always so sure of yourself. so determined. like you could take on the whole world if you wanted to.”

your throat tightens, and you don’t know what to say to that.

“but now…” his voice trails off, and you feel the mattress shift as he turns onto his side, facing your back. “now, i just keep thinking about how wrong i was. how breakable you really are.”

you close your eyes, willing the tears to stay at bay. you hate this. hate the way his words make your chest ache, hate the way he’s stripping away the walls you’ve built for yourself.

“i’m not breakable, satoru,” you say softly, though even you don’t believe it.

“don’t lie to me,” he whispers, his voice closer now. you can feel the warmth of him behind you, the weight of his words pressing against your back. “i can see it. every time i close my eyes, i see it. you—” he stops, his voice cracking. “you not coming back.”

you feel his hand brush against your arm, hesitant, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away. “i’m not asking you to stay,” he says finally, his voice trembling. “i know you won’t. but i need you to know… i can’t do this without you.”

the rawness in his voice cuts through you, and you feel tears slip down your cheeks before you can stop them.

“i know,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “but i have to.”

he doesn’t say anything, and the silence feels unbearable.

you shift slightly, turning onto your back so you can see him. his face is close to yours now, his eyes glinting in the dim light filtering through the window. you can see the unshed tears there, the way his jaw is clenched tight like he’s holding himself together with sheer force of will.

“you’re right,” you say, your voice trembling. “i’m not invincible. but neither are you, satoru. you can’t protect me from everything.”

his breath hitches, and he looks away, his hand pulling back from your arm. “i know that,” he says, his voice cold now. “but it doesn’t make it any easier.”

you reach out then, your fingers brushing against his cheek, turning his face back toward you. “i love you,” you say, and the words feel heavy, final. “i love you so much. but this is who i am. this is what i have to do.”

he stares at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he closes his eyes and lets out a shuddering breath. “you’re killing me, you know that?”

you try to smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “i’m sorry.”

he doesn’t respond, doesn’t move, and for a while, the two of you just lie there in the darkness, the sound of your breathing filling the room.

you don’t know how long it is before he finally speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “you were the first person who made me think… maybe it’s worth it. love. life. all of it.”

your heart breaks at his words, and you feel a fresh wave of tears threaten to spill.

“don’t lose that,” you say softly, your hand finding his and squeezing it gently.

he doesn’t answer, and you know he won’t.

because the truth is, you’ve already taken it from him.

[luvfae]

BAD INVESTMENT

PART THIRTEEN

summary: caught between myung-gi’s control and thanos’ pull, you sneak around—until myung-gi comes home early. now, with thanos hiding under the bed, you have to sell the lie.

parings: thanos/choi su bong x f!reader, lee myung gi x f!reader

warnings: cheating, swearing

bad investment masterlist

The moment Myung-Gi walked through the door, you knew.

There was something off about him—he wasn’t smirking, wasn’t scrolling through his phone or talking about his latest deal. He didn’t even kick off his shoes like usual. Instead, he stood in the doorway, staring at you, jaw tight.

Your stomach dropped.

He knew.

You forced yourself to act normal, closing the kitchen cabinet like you hadn’t just been sneaking a snack. “Hey,” you greeted, keeping your voice casual. “How was your day?”

“Don’t do that,” he said flatly.

Your fingers curled against the counter. “Do what?”

Myung-Gi let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. “You’re really gonna sit here and lie to my fucking face?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes snapped to yours, and the look in them sent a chill down your spine. Dark, unreadable—dangerous.

“My friend saw you,” he said, stepping closer. “At Pentagon.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I wasn’t at Pentagon,” you lied.

“Yes, you were.” He took another step toward you. “You were there. And you weren’t alone.”

You shook your head quickly, forcing a scoff. “Your friend must’ve been drunk. I wasn’t there.”

It was a mistake.

The moment the words left your mouth, Myung-Gi slammed his hand against the counter beside you. You flinched, chest tightening with fear.

“Stop lying to me.” His voice was low, controlled, but his nostrils flared, his fingers twitching like he was fighting the urge to grab you.

He’d never been like this before.

Never raised his voice, never clenched his fists, never looked at you like this.

“Myung-Gi—”

“Were you with him?” he demanded.

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You couldn’t tell the truth, but you couldn’t lie again either. He already didn’t believe you.

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re fucking stupid if you think I don’t know.” His voice wavered, like he was losing control of himself. “You think I wouldn’t find out?”

“I didn’t do anything,” you tried. “I was with friends.”

His hand slammed against the counter again.

You winced.

He wasn’t hitting you. He wouldn’t. But he was close, and that was enough to make your heart race.

“I take care of you,” he seethed. “And this is how you repay me? Running around with some broke-ass loser behind my back?”

You bit your lip, eyes darting to the door.

“Where the fuck are you looking?” Myung-Gi snapped.

You snapped your gaze back to him, swallowing hard. “I’m not cheating on you.”

He exhaled sharply, staring at you. His jaw worked, his teeth grinding together. And then, just as suddenly, he took a step back, running a hand down his face.

“You’re mine,” he muttered under his breath. “You’re mine.”

You didn’t know what to say.

He turned away, gripping his phone, typing something aggressively before exhaling sharply through his nose. “Go to bed,” he muttered.

You didn’t move.

“Go,” he snapped.

You flinched again and quickly walked to the bedroom, your heart slamming against your ribs.

It got worse after that.

The next morning, you realized he had your location.

“Why is my location turned on for you?” you asked, staring at your phone.

Myung-Gi didn’t even look up from his laptop. “Because I don’t trust you.”

Your stomach flipped.

It didn’t stop there.

He started dropping you off and picking you up from work, acting like it was something sweet, something thoughtful. But it wasn’t. It was control.

Anytime you asked to go out, he shut it down immediately.

“You’re not going.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

It wasn’t a fight. It wasn’t an argument. It was a statement.

And it was suffocating.

It took two days for you to finally get a second away from him.

You sat in the employee breakroom, staring at your phone, your hands shaking. You could barely type, your fingers trembling over the keyboard.

You: MG has my location. I can’t come over. He’ll know.

You hit send and locked your phone, heart pounding.

A few minutes later, your phone vibrated.

Thanos: That’s cute. He thinks he can keep you away from me.

You swallowed hard, watching the dots appear.

Thanos: You think that too?

You sucked in a breath.

You: No.

Thanos: Good. Then I’ll see you soon.

You weren’t sure how Thanos planned on seeing you soon, but you should’ve known he’d figure something out.

Because that night, after Myung-Gi picked you up from work, after you sat through another tense, suffocating car ride in silence, after he kissed you a little too roughly and told you to be a good girl before heading out to some meeting—you got a text.

Thanos: Come outside.

Your breath caught.

You swallowed, fingers tightening around your phone as you stood at the window, peeking through the blinds.

And there he was.

Parked across the street, leaned back in his seat, looking like he had all the time in the world.

You hesitated.

If Myung-Gi found out…

Your phone buzzed again.

Thanos: Don’t make me come up there.

Fuck.

Your stomach twisted as you grabbed your keys and slipped on your shoes, glancing towards the door like it might fly open at any second.

Myung-Gi wouldn’t be back for hours. He shouldn’t be back for hours.

You told yourself that over and over as you walked out the door, heart hammering in your chest.

The second you stepped outside Thanos’ eyes dragged over you, slow and heavy.

You weren’t sure what you expected—maybe some kind of snide remark, some teasing about how pathetic you looked sneaking out like this—but he didn’t say anything.

Not at first.

Instead, he reached over and tucked his fingers under your chin, tilting your face up so you were looking at him.

You inhaled sharply.

His eyes were dark, his jaw tight.

“He’s got you scared.” His voice was calm, but there was something sharp beneath it, something that made your pulse spike.

“I’m not—”

Thanos scoffed. “Don’t lie to me.”

You exhaled, pressing your lips together.

He hummed, running his thumb over your jaw. “Not so fun when someone actually owns you, huh?”

Your stomach twisted.

You shook your head quickly. “He doesn’t—”

Thanos’ fingers tightened slightly, just enough to shut you up.

“You’re sneaking out of your own place to see me,” he murmured. “Lying to him. Jumping through hoops just to get a second alone.” He leaned in closer, lips grazing your ear. “That’s not freedom, baby.”

A shiver ran down your spine.

“You asked me the other night what I wanted from you…” he pulled back, eyes scanning your face. “But, what do you want from me?”

You licked your lips. “I don’t know.”

Thanos let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”

You swallowed.

He was right.

You knew exactly what you wanted.

You wanted him.

And Myung-Gi couldn’t stop you.

So you kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t slow. It was desperate—your hands tangling in his hair, his fingers digging into your waist, your body pressing against his like you could crawl inside him.

You weren’t sure if it was the thrill of sneaking around or just him, but you didn’t care.

He groaned against your lips, pulling closer. His fingers curled around your throat, tilting your head back as he looked at you.

Your body was burning.

Every kiss, every touch, every rough squeeze of Thanos’ hands on your skin—it had your head spinning.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

You didn’t care.

“Myung-Gi won’t be home for hours,” you whispered between kisses, fingers gripping the front of Thanos’ hoodie like you were afraid he might pull away. “Come upstairs.”

Thanos groaned, his hands sliding down to grab your ass, squeezing hard enough to make you gasp.

“You sure about that?” he murmured against your lips. “Not scared anymore?”

You shook your head.

You weren’t.

Not in this moment.

Not with him.

Thanos watched you for a second, like he was trying to figure out if you really meant it. If you really understood what you were asking for.

Then, his lips curled into a smirk.

“Then let’s go.”

You barely had time to move before he was gripping your wrist as he guided you toward your apartment.

Your heart hammered in your chest as you fumbled with your keys, hands shaking with a mixture of excitement and nerves.

If Myung-Gi saw…

No.

He wouldn’t.

You shoved the thought away as you finally got the door open, stepping inside and tugging Thanos in with you.

The second the door shut behind him, his hands were on you again, pushing you back against the wall.

“Fucking reckless,” he muttered, dragging his lips down your jaw. “Telling me to come upstairs like you want to get caught.”

You gasped as his fingers slipped under your shirt, gripping your waist, pressing his body flush against yours.

“Maybe I do,” you teased breathlessly.

Thanos let out a low chuckle, his knee nudging between your thighs. “Yeah? You wanna see what he’d do if he found out?”

Your stomach flipped.

You didn’t.

But fuck, the way Thanos was looking at you right now, the way his touch sent fire through your veins—you weren’t thinking straight.

You tugged at his hoodie, silently telling him to take it off, and he did, yanking it over his head and tossing it aside before lifting your shirt as well.

His eyes darkened as they raked over you.

Then—

“Bedroom.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Your back hit the mattress with a soft thump, Thanos’ weight pressing down on you, his lips hot against your neck.

His hands were everywhere—gripping your thighs, sliding up your stomach, fingers teasing at the band of your underwear.

“Reckless fucking girl,” he muttered against your skin, biting down just hard enough to make you whimper. “Telling me to come upstairs like your little boyfriend isn’t gonna walk in and see me fucking you stupid.”

You shivered, tilting your chin up, giving him more access.

“He won’t be home for hours,” you whispered, breathless.

Thanos chuckled darkly, his fingers slipping beneath your panties. “Yeah? You sure about that?”

The universe had a sick sense of humor.

Because the second the words left his mouth—

The sound of a door unlocking echoed from the front of the apartment.

Your stomach dropped.

Thanos froze.

You slapped a hand over your mouth, eyes wide in panic.

Footsteps.

No. No, no, no.

Myung-Gi was not supposed to be home right now.

Thanos pulled back, looking at you, expression sharp. “Where the fuck—”

“Under the bed!” you hissed, shoving at his chest.

He didn’t waste time arguing.

Just like that, Thanos was moving, slipping off the bed and disappearing beneath the frame, just as the bedroom door swung open.

You barely had a second to react before Myung-Gi stepped inside.

Your heart pounded.

Think. Think. Think.

There you were, half-naked, flushed and out of breath.

If you hesitated for even a second, he’d know something was up.

So, with the most innocent look you could muster, you smiled, shifting onto your side.

“There you are,” you purred. “I was waiting for you.”

Myung-Gi blinked, his eyes trailing over your body—over your bare skin, over the way your thighs were pressed together like you’d been aching for him.

A slow smirk spread across his lips.

“Yeah?” he hummed, stepping closer, hands already moving to undo his belt. “My pretty girl was waiting for me?”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to hold his gaze.

Under the bed, Thanos was probably losing his fucking mind.

But you couldn’t think about that now.

You had to sell this.

So you stretched out, arching your back just slightly, biting your lip like you were so desperate for him to touch you.

He bought it.

Of course he did.

The way his ego worked? He ate that shit up.

“Thought I told you not to do this without me,” he murmured, kneeling on the bed, fingers trailing over your thigh.

You forced out a soft, breathy laugh, reaching up to tug at his shirt.

“Couldn’t help myself,” you whispered.

His eyes darkened.

You barely resisted the urge to flinch when he kissed you.

And underneath the bed, hidden in the shadows, Thanos was listening.

[totorolaughs]

DABI x READER

dead dove, toxic relationship, gn reader, blood & gore, cannibalism, spanking, after care (?), no pronouns for reader REQUEST: OPEN | CLOSED

You have been dating Dabi for a while now. Your friends had warned you about staying away from him; ‘he smells strange’, ‘I heard he's an absolute psycho with daddy issues (Name)!” and ‘he’s toxic’.

You ignored all their protests, you liked Dabi. and he /seemed/ to like you /a lot/ whenever you were around other people and he was around you could feel his blue eyes piercing into your soul.

But that was because maybe he had never been in a serious relationship before, he was prone to get jealous and possessive over you. He would always ask to stay over by your house and every time he would leave your house would smell like sex, blood, and cigarettes with a hint of beer floating in the air.

Today was no different, you were lying with Dabi on the couch and he had his arm wrapped around you. He had a tight grip on you as you both watched TV. It was a horror movie about a cannibal who kills prostitutes and then sends their private parts to the police as a clue.

Dabi seemed to be enjoying it as his eyes stayed glued to the TV, you on the other hand felt sluggish. Your mind wondered with one question; would humans taste good? — as strange as it was, you couldn't help but let the questions sink into your brain.

Dabis's hand rubbed your waist in an up-and-down motion which snapped you out of your thoughts. “You okay, Babe?” Dabis asked as he placed a kiss on your head. “You seem to be thinking hard about something and that's not normal for you, toots” You frowned at his words since he was basically calling you brainless but he was telling the truth.

It wasn't normal for you to think, you never think before speaking or committing an action. And ever since you met Dabi he had been making choices for you which felt nice to have someone do all the thinking for you, if Dabi told you to do something you would do it in a heartbeat you would never protest or fight against him.

“I’m fine..don’t worry” you snuggled up against Dabi as he ran his fingers through your hair “Plus don't be silly, my mind is always empty” you lie through your teeth. all of sudden as if he sees right through you (which he can) his fingers tangled in your hair and yanked your head back.

You let out a pitiful cry “You aren't lying to me, right?” he smiled. under different circumstances, you wouldn't have been fluttering after all you did love it whenever you got to see his creepy yet handsome smile. “My boy wouldn't do such a thing?” but you knew he didn't like liars, you had to learn that the hard way.

He slapped you the first time you lied to him, it was a little white lie it wouldn't even hurt a fly but even then he couldn't stand it.

He had cupped your face “You know I don't fucking like lying rats,” you had nodded as hot tears filled your eyes but as soon they began to run down your cheeks he (forcefully) grabbed you by your waist and pulled you to his close to him, you buried your face in his chest. “ I only do it to teach you a lesson, y’know I love you doll”

From that moment you had never told him a lie.

“I would never lie to you!” you pouted, he chuckled. “I know, just teasing y’know,” he said as he continued to watch the movie, your eyes stayed on the movie you felt too scared to look at Dabi at this very moment, as you watched the movie;

The killer stood on top of a woman he had just beaten with a baseball bat, her clothes were torn off her body and covered in her blood. bruises formed on her beaten body before cutting off and showing the killer dismembered her body and putting her parts into jars.

It seemed so real to you, your eyes stayed fixated on the scene; he covered her skin in salts and peppers as he began to chop them up. He poured boiling water into a pot as he collected her body parts and dumped them into his pot.

He grabbed a torn-off chunk of her body and put it on an oiled-up pan, the sound of sizzling could be heard as your stomach growled.

Fuck. you hoped Dabi didn't hear that.

But the human flesh looked so good, could it be chewy or rough like a well-cooked steak? Gosh, you couldn't help but begin to drool at the thought of it.

You hadn't realized you were actually drooling until Dabi spoke up.

“Looks super tasty, right?” he laughed, and you felt your face begin to heat up. You didn't answer him which was a bad idea but you couldn't help it. It's embarrassing admitting that you like the way human flesh looks!

He grabbed the remote and turned off the TV as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands gently placed on your hips. “Are you gonna answer?” before squeezing your hips roughly and digging his nails into your soft flesh.

“I…It looks g..good” Your face flushed as you grabbed his wrists since his long nails began to dig deeper into your plush skin. His narrowed as he smiled, placing a sloppy kiss on your forehead.

“You wanna try it?” your heart skipped a beat it felt as if your heart had stopped beating in that moment, and your eyes widened. You just stare at Dabi as if he had grown two heads, he slaps your ass which causes you to jump.

“Answer.” Dabi’s voice turns rough “M..mhm I wanna try..” He smiles before picking you up and you wrap your legs around his waist as he takes you to your rather dirty and unkept kitchen. He places you down on the kitchen counter; there are cans of beer, boxes of cigarettes, empty vapes, and weird stains covering the floor.

Dabi keeps an eye on you as if to say ‘stay’ before he goes over to the sink and turns on the sink, beginning to clean a dirty used switchblade (which usually he uses when there aren't any clean knives). You truly don't know what to think at this moment.

Was he actually going to cut his flesh to feed it to you? No of course not! That would be fucking crazy but Dabi is known for being crazy.

Before you know it Dabi is looming over you with a sharp black handle switchblade. “If I'm going to let you /eat/ me, you’re going to have to do something for me, yeah?” his free hands tangled in your head and forced you to nod.

“Mhm…” your whole body is shivering. Dabi is only wearing; a nine-inch nails t-shirt that is pulled up slightly as it shows his v-line and his happy trail along with some black sweats-pants, you can tell Dabis cock is hard since he isn't wearing any boxers you can see the line-out of his thick cock showing as it twitches in his sweats.

He makes a deep cut into his arm and blood begins to drip down his arm. The sound of blood dripping onto the floor is the only thing you can hear besides your heavy breathing, He cut himself deep.

Your mouth waters at the sight of his crimson blood. He places the switchblade down on the counter as he brings his arm up to your mouth and you latch your lips and begin to suckle on his deep gash.

A groan slips from Dabis scarred lips, and Dabi palms his clothed cock. The sound of wet sucking sounds and heavy breathing can be heard throughout the dingy apartment you and Dabi owned.

“F..fuuuck go easy on me, baby” Dabi throws his head back before tugging on your hair causing your lips to let go of his arm, blood is all over your face.

“You made such a mess..” He pinches your cheek “Ouchh, Dabi m’sorry!” A whine comes from your bloody lips causing Dabi to smirk “Shhh I’mma give you more ‘kay?” Dabi once again grabs the switchblade and begins to carve into his skin he digs his thick fingers into the deep wound his nails tearing chunks of his flesh.

He holds the pieces of his flesh in front of you, drool drips from your crimson-covered lips. As you open your mouth to begin eating his flesh, he slaps you with his free hand.

Your eyes went wide, and you gasped, you never liked it when he would hit you yet it would feel sosos good. “Before I give you what you want,” he places a kiss on your lips, the taste of blood begins to fill his mouth, just making his cock leak pre-cum more. “I want you to strip.” In a blink of an eye, you're stripped from your clothes, all of your clothing is on the bloody floor, your pierced nipples hard and your cock twitching and leaking like a leaky pipe.

Dabi had torn your clothes right off of you before you could even reply which humors you since he said you're the needy one. “You look so pretty, baby..” Dabi licks his lips as he scatters marks all over your neck he loved it whenever you would show off his markings that were proof you belonged to the lunatic.

His bloody-covered fingers teasing and pinching your nipples, you moaned as your back arched. “P..please Dabi!” your voice filled with desperation and need.

“Please what, huh?” He bites down on your neck, you're definitely bleeding. “I w..wanna taste you!,” you cry out “I w..want you inside me..mee”

Dabi lifts your legs up and spits on your winking hole, you feel Dabi's spit roll down your hole and his bloody fingers enter. You let out a choked-out moan.

Your nails digging into the countertop “You’re tight, I should fuck you until your hole bleeding and begging for more. You would like that, no?” he kisses your cheek as his thick fingers go in and out of your whole. It hurts.

Your whole body feels hot and is burning up, you knew you would need him fingering you for a good while before you were able to take his cock inside of your tight heat but tonight he didn't feel like waiting for him to get his fat cock wet.

He pulled his member from his sweatpants. It had a trimmed bush of white and red hair unlike the hair on his head which was dyed black. His cock has a Jacob's ladder piercing which probably was your /favorite/ piercing he had besides his helix piercings which he had put silver spikes along with his nose and nipple piercings.

Once his cock was free from his black sweatpants, his pants dropped to around his knees as he began to slowly shove his cock inside. You breath in and out as he grabbed something and once you realized what it was he slammed his cock inside his balls slapping against your ass.

It was the torn-off chunks of meat, he gripped your jaw and shoved the chunks of flesh into your mouth. You whimpered at the taste of it on your tongue, and without warning he began to thrust in and out of your bloody hole.

His hands held your legs up as he shoved his cock deeper inside of you, your cock leaking all over your tummy as drool escaped from your lips. You almost choked on his flesh from how rough his thrusts were getting.

Your bodies stuck to each other by sweat, the kitchen smelled like blood, sweat, and sex. “Holyshiiit… you feel so good!” he groaned as he tightened his grip on you “Dabi g.. gah! ” Your tears began to burn with tears.

“C’mon, babes cry harder you can do that for me, right?” Dabi hisses as he feels your nails dig into his back, you nod as you continue to cry out in ecstasy.

You had long ago finished his flesh but you wanted, no, needed more of him. You needed to have him fill all your senses, you buried your face into his shoulder as you sank your teeth into him. Blood began to gush into your mouth as you sucked hard on the bite mark lapping up the blood with your tongue.

It felt like forever as he continued to slam into your tight warmth, your tummy covered in pre-cum as tears rolled down your cheeks, Dabi on the other hand growled and folded you like a lawn chair as the tip of his cock kept hitting your prostate causing you to roll your eyes into the back of your skull.

“Fuuck..imma cum” he groaned as he gave your thigh a spank “m..me ah..ahh c..cummingcumming!” your cock squirts out cum as it lands all over your tummy and chest. Dabi kisses you; it is sloppy, filled with teeth, and tastes like blood.

Your eyes crossed as you began to sob from being fucked stupid, what was your name again? Fuck you couldn't even remember. “n..no more! P..please st..stop!” Dabi didn't listen to your pleas as he reigned your guts.

“J..Just a little m..more, fuuuck..!” He buried himself balls deep inside of your velvety walls “I.. I'm gonna c..cum inside..you okay with that right? Of course you are, you whore..” he painted your walls in his cum. You could feel his cum slip out from your hole as he fucked his load deeper inside of you.

You both breathed in and out.

“You did so well…” he placed a kiss on your forehead as he rubbed your bruised hips “You take me so well..” he placed kisses on your neck and shoulders so gently as if you were going to break.

“l..love you..” you whisper into his ear before closing your eyes “I love you soso much, fuuck you drained me dry..”

You or Dabi didn't feel like moving at this moment, too sore. He held you close as he gently ran his finger through your messed up hair as if he didn't just fuck you brainless.

“I’ll take care of everything, okay? Rest easy, doll” All you remember is Dabi slowly pulling out his cock with the feeling of his cum oozing out of your abused hole.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

hii, i was wondering if i could submit a request for a fic🤔I don't rlly have any specific prompt but i want it to be about karasu or zantetsu, either one is fine. i've read all of ur karasu fics and they're so good! i love ur writing sm!! if u don't want to i totally understand but i also just want to tell u that i think ur writing is awesome (^◡^)

Synopsis: You become taken with your coworker’s roommate, Karasu, unaware that he’s just as fascinated by you — and maybe he has been for longer than you realize.

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 8.6k

Content Warnings: relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…, <- never thought i’d be using THAT for a karasu fic, i’m bored of normal karasu characterization so i made him ooc, he’s like fr a weirdo icl, otoya catches strays, yukimiya is just trying to get through the workday, reader is a model, reader’s feet are mentioned a lot?? not sexually in the slightest (they’re injured so she complains abt them) but i mean it’s there ig if you’re a hater, very vague and unfinished feeling not on purpose i just gave up tbh

A/N: you sent this to me so long ago idek if you remember it LMAOAOAO i am so sorry i like fell off the face of the earth in terms of answering requests but HERE IT IS erm sorry it actually highkey sucks but at least karasu is in it…i guess…UGHHHH I HATE THIS BUT I COULDN’T KEEP PROCRASTINATING IT YOU LITERALLY SENT THIS IN THE BEGINNING OF AUGUST I’M SO SORRY MY DEAR but also tysm HAHHA you are very sweet!! i’m glad you like my writing and once again i am sorry for disappearing…

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

You had never seen the man leaning against the wall behind the camera before. He wore a dark trench coat and a plaid scarf looped around his neck, and unlike everyone else bustling about the set, barking out orders and shoving each other into place, he was entirely calm. In his right hand, he held his phone, scrolling through something on it with his thumb, and in between his teeth was a lollipop — cherry flavored, which you only knew because of the wrapper lying at his feet.

“That’s not Yukimiya, right?” you whispered to the girl who was buttoning up the back of your top.

“Hm?” she said. “No, Mr. Yukimiya hasn’t checked in yet. I have no idea who that is.”

He was tall, with wide shoulders and the type of face that must have been crafted with painstaking detail by someone or another, his features keen, his eyes a brilliant shade of blue so dark they were nearly violet or black. Dark hair fell into darker eyebrows like the ink of a ballpoint pen on a paper-pale forehead, and just above his left cheekbone was a black beauty mark, which changed everything and yet nothing about him.

You supposed he must’ve sensed your gaze lingering on him, for he furrowed his brow and then lifted his chin, scanning the room before his eyes meet yours. He didn’t seem offended by the prying, his lips curling into a smile as he lifted his left hand into a jaunty wave, returning his attention to whatever he was reading on his phone before you could respond in turn or do anything to feel less like you had been caught committing some crime.

“I’m sorry I’m late!”

This must’ve been Kenyu Yukimiya, your partner for the shoot. He was handsome, too, with a harried, windswept appearance to his reddened cheeks and tousled hair; when he grinned at you apologetically, he was entirely reminiscent of a painting from antiquity.

He sat in the chair next to you as the makeup team got to work, applying the faintest touch of product so that he was not entirely washed out by the blinding lights of the cameras in your faces. You returned his smile with one of your own, polite and careful.

“Luckily, the director hasn’t arrived yet, so it’s not a problem,” you said. “Apparently, he’s strict on everyone but himself.”

Yukimiya winced as a heap of clothes was thrown at him and the finishing touches were placed on his chestnut hair. You watched him with amusement, your hands folded in your lap as he was yanked to his feet.

“Guess I got lucky this time, then,” he said, stumbling into the dressing room, the door slamming shut behind him. You stood yourself, stretching your arms and legs with a deep breath, rolling your ankles in the air, alternating as you did so, and then pacing back and forth in an attempt to accustom yourself to the monstrosities that your feet had been shoved into.

The man in the corner didn’t seem affected by the chaos Yukimiya’s appearance had thrown everyone into. You thought you saw something like a snort escape him, but otherwise he was calm — although you noticed he had tucked his phone away and shoved his hands in his pockets, opting to instead observe his surroundings with a soft curiosity.

You turned away before he could shift his attention to you once again, because your pride could not handle being caught by him a second time, and you pretended like you were entirely fascinated with putting one foot in front of the other, walking in a line so straight it was as if it had been drawn with a ruler.

Yukimiya reappeared completely ready a few seconds later, tying the laces of his dress shoes and then joining you at your side, although of course he did not need to practice walking or anything so silly. Like most men, he had been afforded the luxury of comfort; he wasn’t the showpiece of this edition, after all. You were, and so you were the one made up into a spectacle beyond natural ability or attempt.

“Everyone, in your places!” the director shouted as he entered the studio, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the other on his hip. He was diminutive in stature and wore a ridiculously feathered hat, but what he lacked in height, he more than made up for in position, so nobody would dare to say that to him, least of all you, who could so easily be replaced.

Still, for one final time, you allowed yourself to look at the man standing all by himself, wondering if he’d offer some reaction to the getup, some indication that you weren’t alone in your feelings. You weren’t sure why it was him who you sought out; perhaps because he, unlike everyone else, was a mystery, an enigma, and so while you could map out without knowing what all the other faces in the room looked like at that moment, you needed to see his to understand it.

He wrinkled his nose into a snicker, shaking his head like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes, and then he took his phone back out of his pocket, maybe to give himself an excuse for laughing. It wasn’t like he really needed an excuse, because no one else was even looking at him, but then again, there was never any harm in caution.

“You’re Y/N L/N, right?” Yukimiya said to you, his hand on your shoulder as you faced the camera, waiting for the director to adjust your stances. “It’s a pleasure. I’m surprised this is the first time we’re actually talking.”

“The pleasure is mine,” you said. “And yes, it’s a wonder we haven’t worked together before, given how frequently I’ve heard your name mentioned. I’m looking forward to it.”

Something about Yukimiya served to enhance everyone he was around, and so, instead of stealing the attention from you, he somehow managed to direct the spotlight so that it shone only on your placid face. You had been expecting the opposite, but you weren’t angry about it; in fact, you couldn’t have been more pleased. It was always the worst thing when your coworker was jostling you out of the way for a few extra seconds in front of the cameras, and you thought to yourself that you’d have to find some way of ensuring you were booked with him more often.

“Amazing! I don’t think I’ve ever been so quickly satisfied by a shoot!” the director said, clapping his hands together and nodding at you both. “Excellent work. I think we can wrap up for the day. I’ll see you two here at the same time tomorrow!”

“Wow,” Yukimiya said as everyone started disassembling the set. “I thought you said he was strict.”

You shrugged as you walked over to the dressing rooms. “I thought he was.”

“Well, we probably shouldn’t complain,” he said. “Between this and practice, my schedule is booked. I have no space to be ungrateful about a little extra time.”

“Very true,” you said. “It’s always nice when things like this end sooner than anticipated. Better than later, anyways.”

The first thing you took off were those excuses for shoes, kicking them under the door for good measure and shoving your feet into a pair of fluffy slippers, wiggling your toes with a sigh. Peeling off every layer you had squeezed into for the sake of the director’s creative vision, you curled up on the bench in only your underwear, sipping on water through a metal straw and staring at the wall, hugging your knees to your chest, lost in thinking about nothing.

Only when you grew cold did you stand, pulling on a sweatshirt three sizes too large and sweatpants that puddled at your shoes, shielding you from the world as you trudged out of the dressing room, wanting to rub your eyes but knowing that you would smear makeup all over the backs of your hands. You settled instead for playing with the thread you had taped to the handle of your water bottle for exactly such an occasion, twirling the loose ends of the meticulous knots in between your fingers idly.

“Ah — L/N!” Yukimiya waved at you as you made your way towards the exit. Unaccustomed to further camaraderie after the end of the workday, you had to fight to keep your expression neutral, and when you noticed the man from earlier was at Yukimiya’s side, the lollipop long gone, you had to fight even harder.

“Is something the matter?” you said.

“No, nothing at all,” he said. “I just figured we might as well walk to the parking garage together, since it’s late and all.”

“I appreciate it,” you said. The studio you were at had only one security guard in its employ, a man that inspired pity more than fear, with a few strands of hair glued into a desperate attempt at a combover and a shirt that was far too thin to be considered professional, so you hadn’t even considered asking for an escort, figuring you would take your chances. Still, the thought of walking alone wasn’t the most appealing, and while you wouldn’t have asked for it yourself, you were glad Yukimiya had offered his company nonetheless.

“Oh! Karasu, this is Y/N L/N. L/N, this is Tabito Karasu,” Yukimiya said as you reached the door and the other man — Karasu — used one black-gloved hand to open it.

“Is he your bodyguard or something? Thank you,” you said, nodding at Karasu for holding the door.

“He wishes,” Karasu said. His voice was rough and deep and sounded like he was perpetually in on some private joke, but you didn’t mind it, not in the slightest. “I’m his roommate — the one with a car, by the way. And a driver’s license. And the time to pick his sorry ass up.”

“What he means is that he offered to stop by on his way home to get me,” Yukimiya said.

“That’s very generous of you,” you said. “Especially considering you were there even before Yukimiya was.”

“Don’t you think? It’s fine, now he owes me one,” Karasu said, his eyes glimmering. “And I intend to collect, of course.”

“He never does anything out of the goodness of his heart,” Yukimiya said with a long-suffering sigh. “You better be careful around him, L/N. Whatever he gives you, he’ll expect the same in return.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, though of course you had no intentions of ever being around Karasu in any way that mattered.

“We play soccer for the Japanese team, you know,” Karasu said. “You should come to one of our games, L/N. I’m sure some of our teammates would be delighted by that. Right, Yuki?”

Yukimiya sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “If you’re talking about Otoya and Aiku, then yes, but that’s not necessarily a good thing.”

“Not for her, it isn’t,” Karasu said. “For them, sure it is. But I wasn’t talking about those two, anyways.”

“Pardon?” you said.

“Ignore him,” Yukimiya said. “I don’t really know what he’s going on about.”

“It was nice meeting you,” Karasu said, picking up before Yukimiya on the fact that your steps had stuttered to a stop. “L/N, was it?”

He offered you his hand. You took it and shook, arching a brow at the firmness of his grip, which was much more in line with a businessman than a soccer player. 

“Yes,” you said. “Karasu? It was nice to meet you as well.”

“Don’t worry,” Yukimiya said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’ll make my other roommate pick me up tomorrow.”

“Otoya?” Karasu said. “Good luck with that. He’ll be late to his own funeral, so don’t think you’re high on his priority list. The only time he comes early is—”

“Karasu,” Yukimiya interjected. “Don’t be crass.”

“Sure, sure,” he said. “See you around, L/N. Or maybe not.”

“See you,” you said, starting your car so that it wasn’t freezing when you got in, deciding it wouldn’t be polite to tack on a definitely not to the farewell and instead opting to stay silent.

“Bye, L/N,” Yukimiya said. “Until tomorrow.”

Although your apartment wasn’t large by any means, it wasn’t small, either, sitting at a comfortable medium that was paid for half by you and half by your brother, who was hardly ever home, anyways, but needed somewhere for his mail to be delivered. He was a free spirit, always traveling: for work, for fun, for women and wine, for anything his heart desired, which left you the entire space to yourself more often than not. People were jealous of you when they found out, but when you sat on the couch alone, a blanket pulled up around your shoulders and a bowl of salad held in between your knees, the television on only to ward away the silence that permeated the room, you wondered what they had to be jealous of.

The next day, you didn’t look for Karasu when you entered the studio, but you knew as you stepped in that he wasn’t there. There was something missing, the room a little brighter without him in the corner, waiting with an unmatched patience for Yukimiya to be done. Yukimiya must’ve made good on his threat, then, to call their other roommate to pick him up, although privately you wondered why he couldn’t just drive himself.

The shoot went even smoother the second day than it had the first, and it was a surprise the director didn’t fall to your feet and grovel at the speed with which you executed his vision. Yukimiya struck that perfect balance of workmanlike and personable, and you were content to play along with him, so all in all things moved with relative swiftness.

When you went to leave, you noticed that Yukimiya was standing by the door on his own, tapping his phone furiously. You were under no obligation to stop, but for some reason, you did, waiting awkwardly for a second before clearing your throat.

“Is everything alright?” you said. He startled, almost dropping his phone as he blinked at you.

“Yes! Yes, it’s fine, it’s just my roommate is a jerk, that’s all. Last night, he told me he was fine with picking me up, but now all of a sudden he’s busy,” he said with a scoff.

“Otoya, right?” you said. Yukimiya cocked his head.

“Yes, how’d you know?” he said.

“Karasu — your other roommate mentioned him yesterday,” you said, correcting yourself so that it didn’t seem like Karasu was someone you paid special attention to. Judging by Yukimiya’s expression, you didn’t think you had been entirely successful in the attempt, which was unlike you. You bit the tip of your tongue so that you didn’t say anything further, waiting for him to respond.

“Right,” he said.

“Why don’t you drive yourself?” you said, crossing your arms and standing beside him, facing the road as he was. 

“I can’t,” he said.

“You never learned?” you said. He shook his head, adjusting his glasses self-consciously.

“It’s not recommended I do,” he said. He didn’t elaborate further, but he didn’t have to; you recognized it wasn’t your place and hummed in acknowledgement.

“If you want, I don’t mind taking you,” you said. You didn’t know where Yukimiya lived — for all you knew, it was across the city entirely — but it didn’t hurt to extend your hand like that, especially because you had a sense that he wouldn’t even accept it.

“It’s alright,” Yukimiya said. “Karasu said he’s on his way, since last he checked, Otoya’s in the shower now, for some reason.”

“Oh,” you said. “That’s kind of him.”

“Kind?” Yukimiya said, and then to your surprise, he laughed. “I wish I knew as little about him as you do.”

“Is he a bad person?” you said.

“Not at all,” Yukimiya said. “He’s great. He’s one of my best friends, in fact; it’s just that kind and Karasu rarely if ever go together in the same sentence.”

“How can someone be your best friend if you don’t even think they’re kind?” you said, intrigued by the puzzle Yukimiya had presented you with. The way he spoke of Karasu, it was as if he were some willful spirit that occasionally deigned to lend his aid to those who could bring him some benefit, but the way the two of them treated one another didn’t seem anything like that.

“I don’t know,” Yukimiya said. “If you knew him better, I wouldn’t have to explain this. He’s a hard person to understand, and just when you think you’ve finally got it, he goes and complicates things further.”

“That sounds exhausting,” you said.

“That’s the strangest thing about it all,” Yukimiya said as a car pulled up in front of you both, the hazard lights turning on. “With him, it’s entirely natural.”

Karasu stepped out of the driver’s side, shutting it behind him and joining the two of you on the curb, grinning at Yukimiya in a way that almost felt mocking.

“Told you Otoya wasn’t to be trusted,” he said. “You’re paying for dinner.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yukimiya said, tossing his bag at Karasu, who caught it without flinching. “Put this in for me.”

“Whatever you say,” Karasu said, opening the back door of the car and throwing the bag onto the floor before slamming it shut and patting the handle for good measure. “Is that everything, your royal highness?”

“Yes,” Yukimiya said. “I’m going to kill Otoya when we get back.”

“Hm,” Karasu said. “Violent.”

“He deserves it,” Yukimiya said. “Bye, L/N. Thanks for waiting with me.”

“It’s not an issue,” you said, especially because you hadn’t done it on purpose, and even if you had, it hadn’t been for him. “I’m glad everything worked out.”

You wanted to say something more, something to Karasu in particular, but you didn’t know what or how. It wasn’t like you knew him — not a little and not at all, as Yukimiya had pointed out, and indeed you had no reason to speak to him in the first place. He wasn’t anything but your coworker’s roommate, so what did he mean to you?

Yukimiya shut his door with a hurried apology about the cold, and then it was just you and Karasu on the curb, and you couldn’t tell why, but the way he looked at you made you think he could hear every thought which was racing through your mind. 

“Yukimiya’s right. It’s cold out,” he said. “You should go home now.”

“I’m just about to,” you said.

“Are you?” he said. 

“Why are you questioning that?” you said, surprisingly affronted, although he hadn’t said anything insulting. “Of course I am. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”

“I’m not questioning anything,” he said. “Drive safely.”

“Wait,” you said. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

“Would you prefer it if I am?” he said.

“I’d prefer it if you answered my questions instead of coming up with more of your own,” you said, which you thought would be met with shock — after all, it was a rare thing that you broke character and said anything that could be perceived as cutting — but was instead received with a snicker.

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll be here tomorrow. Early, if that’s what you want.”

“It doesn’t matter to me,” you said. “Do what you’d like.”

“I think that I will,” he said, and then Yukimiya was rolling down the window, telling him to hurry up, damnit, so he left you behind without another word, the car’s engine purring as they drove away.

You must’ve looked like such a fool the next morning, the final of the shoot, your eyes immediately going to the corner where Karasu had been that first day. It was empty, and despite yourself, your shoulders slumped when you realized that he wasn’t there, which was enough for you to break out of that strange trance. Why had you even hoped in the first place? He had made no indication that he was going to come, and you were old enough to know that hoping and wishing were certain paths to disappointment.

“Do you want me to take you back tonight?” you asked Yukimiya, sitting in a chair beside him as you waited for the director to come. It was a clumsy and roundabout way of getting to what you actually wanted out of him, but the last thing you could do was tell him the truth. What would he say, if he knew why you were actually offering? What would he think of you then?

“Hm? No, it’s fine, Karasu’s already got it. He’s at the gym with Shidou — er, another teammate of ours — right now, but he’ll be done before we are, and the studio’s closer to the gym than our apartment is, so he told me it wouldn’t be any extra trouble,” he said, and you thought he must’ve added those extra details for the sole purpose of seeing what your response to them would be, but then you remembered that Yukimiya wasn’t that kind of person. He was just telling you as a way to fill the time, not to get one over you or anything like that.

“That’s good,” you said. “Convenient.”

“Yup,” Yukimiya said. “My agent told me we’d be doing individual photos today.”

“Huh?” you said. “Oh, right. Yes, I think that’s the case.”

“That’s a shame. I enjoyed working with you,” he said.

“Me, too,” you said, and unlike most times, you weren’t lying when you did. “I’m sure we’ll meet again soon, though. There’s not so many of us our age.”

“True,” he said. “It’s a given.”

“Exactly,” you said.

“Yukimiya! You’re up first!” the director shouted, entering as he always did — like a whirlwind, leaving papers scattered and assistants flustered in his wake. 

“That’s my cue,” Yukimiya said with a long-suffering sigh.

“Good luck,” you said, glad that it wasn’t your turn just yet. The shoes you were meant to wear sat innocently before you, about two feet away, and although it was impossible for inanimate objects to be snide, they were quite close to it, glaring at you with their bejeweled straps and their impossible tall heels, tittering between themselves at the thought of the cuts already forming on your ankles, the bandages you’d have to remove in order for those terrors to slide on without fuss.

You set your water bottle on the armrest of your chair, taking up the thread and crossing it over itself in the patterns you had been taught in elementary school. You didn’t have anyone to tie these bracelets around, and you couldn’t wear them yourself, for they’d be cut away almost immediately, but the repetitive motions soothed your mind, distracting you from the red soaking through your white socks.

“L/N!” the director screamed, even though you were sitting right there and could hear him perfectly fine. “Put your damn shoes on and get the hell up here!”

Without Yukimiya there to soften the blow, you were the direct target of all of his anger. Swallowing back every emotion you had ever felt and would ever feel, you bent over and began to rip the nude-colored band-aids, stained rusty at the edges, off. Balling them up and throwing them in the trash, you stood on aching soles and pulled the shoes on, one after another, clenching your teeth and taking off your sweater so that you could waltz over to where the cameras were trained.

“Took you long enough,” the director groused. 

“Yes, sir,” you said. “How should I stand?”

“Just put your hands there, and your one leg there,” the director said vaguely, waving his arms about before striking what must’ve been an approximation of the pose he wanted you to take. You did your best to copy it, and the cameras went off, your vision temporarily fleeing and then coming back in spots as the lights faded. “No!”

“No?” you said.

“That’s all wrong! It’s horrible, horrible — you’re not even trying to do what I asked!” he said. “Yukimiya could do it, so why can’t you? Just do this!”

He did the same thing again. You weren’t sure what else you could adjust, but you moved slightly, twisting your torso at a different angle and smiling without your teeth this time. He grunted and motioned for the cameras to go again, but after a few more photos, he groaned, dragging his face over his hands.

“This is horrendous! You look entirely stiff and posed. It’s like you're a mannequin!” he said.

“I don’t — I’m not — what should I fix?” you said, unable to stop nerves from creeping into your voice and jostling it about. As difficult as he was to work with, you knew that the director was a big name in the industry, and if he only had bad things to say about you, then your entire livelihood would be threatened.

“Ugh!” he said, stomping onto the set and grabbing your arm, wrenching it down so hard you were surprised it didn’t dislocate. You chewed on the frayed flesh of the inside of your cheek to keep from yelping, allowing yourself to be pliable as he dragged your leg forward into what he wanted from you. “It’s like you’re a completely different person today! Just disappointing.”

Whatever position he had coerced you into was nothing like the one he had wanted you to imitate, but you refrained from pointing that out, holding it in place while the photographers adjusted their lenses. It was uncomfortable and made the lace lining your collar dig into your throat even more, but at least that served as a reminder for you to be silent.

“That’s enough,” the director said, massaging his temples. “We’re not getting anything more out of you.”

“What?” you said, standing normally, tired of contorting yourself for the impossible-to-please man. “What do you mean?”

“You’re lifeless. I don’t know how you managed to fool me yesterday and the day before, but I see it now. Honestly, if it weren’t for the concerning accusations I’d face, I’d just dig up a grave and pay the families half the royalties. It’d be a cheaper and better performance than whatever you’re giving me,” he said.

“What?” you said again, shame pouring over you, cold in a way that was closer to heat, ringing in your ears and coating your tongue. You couldn’t think of another response, any other way to defend yourself. If he was saying it, then it really was the truth. You swallowed, about to bow your head and shuffle off of the set for good, but then, like a bird in your peripheral vision, you noticed someone standing in the corner.

It was Karasu, and he was muffling a laugh. When he noticed you were looking at him, he dropped his hand from in front of his mouth and jerked his head towards the director, mouthing something that looked suspiciously like get a load of this guy. Your eyes widened, and then you, too, were fighting back a giggle, because you were so tired of the entire charade and your feet hurt and you wanted to go home and sleep for a few hours but this director, this stupid fucking director, couldn’t make up his mind about what he wanted from you. And now your career was ruined and you’d go back to waiting tables and Karasu was standing there, which was ridiculous, because where had even come from? But, then again, did it matter? Because the most amazing thing of all was that he was laughing. The situation was horrible and he was laughing as if it was the most entertaining moment of his life.

“There!”

You cringed as the cameras went off in quick succession, but they were faster than you, and you knew for sure they had caught you before you had cowered away. The director stroked his chin, and then, to your surprise, clicked his tongue in approval.

“Well done,” he said. “That’s the kind of genuine appeal I was looking for. If you can bring more of that to the table, then anyone would be happy to have you.”

You frowned, his sudden switch in mood giving you whiplash. Only seconds earlier, he had been berating you, and now he was praising you? You couldn’t understand what had brought about the change, but you were at least quick enough to not question it. 

“Thank you,” you said. “I appreciate the advice. And the opportunity to work with you.”

“I’ll hire you again,” he said, which sounded as much like a threat as it did a promise. “We’ll bring it out of you. Now that I know what you’re capable of, I won’t rest until I’ve perfected it in the way only I can.”

The thought of being perfected by him, molded and shaped and honed, was the most unappealing you had had in a while. You could imagine him tugging your limbs out of their sockets, rearranging them at his leisure, slicing gashes into your skin so that his clothes and accessories sat better, smoother, without unappealing wrinkles or reflections marring their surfaces.

“Thank you,” you said once more. “It’s an honor.”

“Are you alright?” Yukimiya said when you wobbled over to where your shoes and clothes were strewn about. 

“I’m fine,” you said, but you weren’t looking at him. Your distracted eyes were following Karasu as he left the studio, your eyebrows knitting together as you tried to ascertain what the point of him even coming inside had been, if he was going to leave without you — without Yukimiya. 

He didn’t come for you, a voice in the back of your head, sounding eerily similar to the director’s, said. He came to pick up his roommate, just like he promised he would.

“I can’t believe he chose you as his favorite. Maybe you’ll be his muse for the next few years!” Yukimiya said. The director was known for picking one model to fixate on for an extended period of time. His every project revolved around them, and they were catapulted into unprecedented stardom under his guiding hand, staying there until their retirement. It was everyone’s dream, and you should’ve been happy at the prospect of being next in that line, but when you beamed at Yukimiya, it was fake, the muscles in your mouth straining at the unnatural position you were putting them into.

“Who knows?” you said. “I don’t want to rely on it. It’s not a guarantee.”

“Smart idea,” he said, scrunching up his face. “I’m sorry. I’m used to soccer more than all of this. Everyone’s very…full of themselves.”

“You’re not full of yourself,” you said, shutting the door of your dressing room behind you and calling through it as you changed, hoping to delay him even slightly.

“You’ve never seen me on the field,” he said. “There, everyone’s different. You have to be, if you want to live. Ego’s a form of survival out there.”

“Doesn’t sound much different than modeling,” you said.

“A little different,” he said. “People here are just vain. That’s not the same.”

You hadn’t ever gotten changed so quickly, but in record time, you were swinging your bag over your shoulder and rejoining Yukimiya, who seemed as surprised as you were that you had finished so quickly. After all, you had a bit of a reputation for…sulking? Brooding? You weren’t sure what word they were using for it nowadays, but regardless, your proclivity for sitting in your dressing room in silence was well-known, as much a part of your character as it was a habit. 

“You’re not wrong about that,” you said. “But vanity’s a necessary evil, I think. If you want to succeed.”

“Er, right,” he said, standing in place like he was unsure of how to react. “I suppose so.”

When you did not halt but instead kept moving towards the exit, he straightened and hurried after you. You weren’t going very fast, and his strides were so long that he caught up with you before you could even brace for the biting wind that rushed in as soon as you opened the door. The two of you went along in silence, Yukimiya obviously befuddled why you were still with him but too polite to say anything about it, and it was only when you reached the entrance to the parking garage, where a familiar car was waiting, that you allowed yourself to smile.

“Man, talk about an asshole,” Karasu said, stretching like a cat as he got out of the still-running sedan. “That director is a piece of work.”

“Karasu!” Yukimiya reprimanded, which got him nothing but a sly smile from the man in question. “He’s our boss. We can’t say stuff like that about him.”

“He’s your boss,” Karasu corrected. “So you can’t say stuff like that. I can say whatever I want.”

“You’re going to get me fired,” Yukimiya said. “It’s a good thing I have soccer to fall back on, or else I’d be in trouble.”

“Go sit in the car, then, if you want to stay blameless,” Karasu said.  

“I will! And you better not bother poor L/N. I don’t want her to have a bad opinion of all of us just because of you,” Yukimiya said, jabbing his finger at Karasu, who raised his hands in the air innocently.

Today, he wore a white windbreaker over a grey shirt, and because he was not wearing gloves, you could see that there were calluses on his palms, standing out pale at the seams of his fingers. You weren’t used to seeing calluses on anyone, not when the few people you met on a semi-regular basis took such diligent measures to prevent them, but now that you were faced with them sans demonization, you found their roughness was warm and friendly, not hideous.

“He was pretty bad,” you mumbled as soon as Yukimiya had shut himself away in the car. 

“Yuki, or the director?” Karasu said.

“Don’t be horrible,” you said. “You know who I’m talking about.”

“I can’t believe he compared you to a dead body,” Karasu said.

“That’s not the worst I’ve gotten,” you said. “It took me by surprise because things had been going so well until then, but he was relatively tame, all things considered.”

“Really?” Karasu said. 

“Yes,” you said, dropping your voice to a murmur in case anyone was around, not wanting to give yourself a reputation as a whiner. “Once, someone asked me if my mother was a fish, because there was no other explanation for how I was flopping around.”

“That’s rude,” he said.

“It was!” you said. No one had ever listened to you before, least of all with such a benign expression on their face, and you were so starved of it that you could not contain yourself any longer. “Especially because I was standing still, not flopping around or whatever. Honestly, I wanted to ask him if his mother was a fish, because you know what? There was no other explanation for how he smelled!”

“Horrid!” Karasu said, beaming at you. “You should’ve.”

“Oh, no, no, I couldn’t. I shouldn’t even have said it to you,” you said, shaking your head and pressing your hands over your mouth, unsure of any other method of stopping yourself that would be nearly as effective. 

“But you did,” he said, zipping up his jacket in a swift movement. “I’ll think of something about myself to tell you in return. Give me a day or two.”

“That’s not why I did that,” you protested. “And we don’t have a day or two, anyways, so you’ll have to do it now or never again.”

“Sure we do,” he said. “We live in the same city, don’t we? I bet our paths will cross. Where do you go grocery shopping?”

“Grocery shopping?” you said.

“Karasu! You’re low on gas!” Yukimiya said, rolling down his window. 

“I go to the place across from the park on South 18th Street. Every Thursday after practice,” Karasu said. “Meet all sorts of people there. Never know who I’m going to run into.”

You could picture exactly the store he was talking about; it wasn’t where you typically went, but sometimes, if you were running low on something hard to find, you’d walk the extra few blocks. It was much bigger than the one close to your apartment, after all, and suddenly you wondered if you had seen Karasu there before, if you had seen him ten or twenty times and just not noticed.

“When do you finish practice?” you said, right before he got into his car. 

“Lunchtime,” he said. “I’m hungry more often than not.”

“It’s not good to shop for food when you’re hungry,” you said.

“Then I’ll have to do something about it before I do,” he said. “Well, it depends. Only if I have good company.”

You didn’t realize until you were halfway home what he meant by that, and by then it was too late for you to change your mind — not that you would’ve. Not that you needed to. He wasn’t holding you to anything, even though you knew as well as he did that you would be there; still, ultimately it was your decision. Your choice. 

That was a strange characteristic of his, one that Yukimiya hadn’t mentioned. Karasu didn’t ask for things; he didn’t command them, either. He only made suggestions, nudging you along until you reached the destination that he wanted you to arrive at. You had never met a person quite so adept at it, at presenting choices and questions as disguises for inevitabilities, at guiding people’s thoughts so precisely. It would’ve been unsettling coming from anyone else, but from him, it was natural. It was how he operated. Who were you to chafe at it when that was simply who he was?

The grocery store was large, but they never changed their layout, so you knew where everything was familiarly and without checking the signs. You didn’t have anything to shop for, so you decided to wander the aisles, thinking that if something caught your eye, you’d buy it without further consideration.

You found yourself staring at a bag of oranges, a bright red 50% Off! sticker slapped right on the netted packaging. Swallowing, you reached for it, but before you could, someone snatched them away, holding them in the air teasingly.

“I thought you shouldn’t shop for food when you’re hungry,” Karasu said. “And might I add, what a coincidence it is, seeing you here!”

“I’m not hungry,” you said, taking the oranges back and holding them to your chest protectively. “And I wasn’t looking for you.”

“I didn’t say that you were,” he said. “I distinctly recall saying that it was a coincidence we even met, in fact. Anyways, maybe you’re not hungry, but I am, so I should be off. Meals to eat, shopping lists to plan…it’s a busy life I have.”

“Sounds mundane,” you said. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “You’re right. That reminds me! Before I go, what is it that should I tell you?”

You couldn’t deny that that was the real reason for why you had come to the grocery store — what was he going to reveal? For as much as he knew about you, you knew frighteningly little about him, and now that you were faced with a chance to learn what kind of person he really was, you didn’t want to let it leave your grasp.

“Whatever you want,” you said. He plucked the oranges from your grasp again, and before you could complain, set them at the bottom of the small basket he held in his arms.

“How about this? I knew you were going to go for the oranges,” he said.

“How?” you said.

His eyes sparkled as he leaned closer to you, and you suddenly remembered Yukimiya’s warnings. Whatever you thought you knew about Karasu, it was likely only half or maybe a quarter the truth. Really, he was shifting and cunning, a fox and a crow, far from comprehension, not a danger but not kind, either.

“I’ll answer if you tell me something else about yourself,” he said.

“Why are you acting like I’m entering some kind of contract with a devil?” you said.

“I’m not a devil,” he said. “Just Karasu. My teammates think I’m a great guy, if the recommendation sets you at ease.”

“It sounds more like you’re trying to blackmail me,” you said. He shook his head.

“Couldn’t it be said that you’re doing the same? You’re asking questions about me and expecting that I answer when you have no intentions of reciprocating,” he said. 

You pouted, because when he put it like that, he wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t that you didn’t trust him — because you did. You trusted him more than you should’ve, considering how guarded you had learned to become.

“I have an older brother,” you said. “He’s overseas right now. I don’t think he’ll be back for a while.”

“I have an older sister,” Karasu said. “Maybe they know each other.”

“Probably don’t,” you said. “Also, you didn’t answer my question.”

“I guess I didn’t,” he said, reaching around you to take two boxes of cereal off of a shelf. “Try again.”

“My parents didn’t want me to be a model,” you said. “They thought I should be a teacher. I’m good at it. Children like me.”

“I was going to go into investment banking,” he said. “Or consulting. One of those such fields. Maybe I still will, but soccer is fine for now.”

This was a game for him, you realized. Like tennis, but better, and so, instead of being irritated, you decided you might as well indulge it. It had been so long, anyways, since the last time you had spoken to someone freely, without concern for what they might spread about you, whose ears they would whisper your secrets in just to get one or two steps ahead.

“I threw a dress at a designer’s face once,” you said. “He didn’t like the shade of lipstick I was wearing, even though he was the one that picked it. The only reason my reputation wasn’t ruined was because he ended up liking the way the lipstick turned up digitally and promised not to say anything about it if I allowed them to use my photos after all.”

Karasu laughed, opening the doors to the fridge and taking out milk, stacking it neatly in the basket. You weren’t sure when the two of you had begun shopping in earnest, but it seemed he had forgotten about his plans to eat lunch. 

“In high school, my teammate pissed me off, so I made sure to shove him around extra when we tried out for a nearby youth team. It made him look so inept that he didn’t make the cut,” he said, taking an abandoned cart and depositing his things in it, motioning for you to put your purse in as well.

“That’s mean!” you said, but it was hard to disguise the fact that you, too, were laughing. “You’re mean.”

“His fault. He should’ve played better, anyways,” Karasu said. “I had been helping his sorry ass out for too long. He would’ve been cut regardless. You could say I just…expedited the process.”

“I’m the only one in my family who still wishes my brother happy birthday,” you said. “He’s a disappointment in everyone else’s eyes, but he lets me live with him and pays his share of the bills, so how can I disown him?”

“Between the two of us, my sister is the perfect one, so I’m afraid I can’t relate. Vanilla or hazelnut?” he said without skipping a beat. Before you could even answer, he face-palmed. “Oh, wait, Otoya hates hazelnut. I’ll get that so he doesn’t mistake it for his own.”

“I used to be a waitress,” you said. “Before I was a model. It was a lot less glamorous of a career. I don’t think my feet ever recovered from it.”

“I’m sure those shoes that you were forced into for your last job didn’t help any,” he said. “They looked inhumane.”

“They were,” you said, your ankles panging at the reminder, still inflamed and angry as they were. “Though I think anyone would’ve suffered with them on. I doubt the designer had human anatomy in mind when making them; I haven’t bled like that in a while.”

“They made you bleed?” he said. You hummed.

“Yeah,” you said, seeing no point in lying. Who would he tell? Who would even believe him? “Fashion over function, right? It was only for a few photos. They’ll be healed so quickly I’ll forget I had them in the first place. Enough about me, though. Tell me something else about yourself.”

“I sprained my wrist playing soccer as a kid,” he said. “It was a long time ago, but even now, I can feel it when it rains.”

He still hadn’t answered your original question, and you didn’t think he would, not until you offered him something of equal or greater value. But what did you have like that? What aspect of your silly life held enough weight that it would make someone like Karasu, always so ready with his wit and his charm, willing to part with something he clearly deemed to be a secret?

“I’m lonely,” you said, turning away from him, pretending to be fascinated with comparing two different brands of yogurt, neither of which you would buy. “You’ll laugh, but I think this is the longest conversation I’ve had with someone outside of work since my brother last came home. It’s nice, surprisingly. Talking to you and all. I like it.”

Or maybe you just liked him. You couldn’t really separate the two. Either way, it remained that ever since you had met Karasu, you could not conceive of a time when you had not known him, a time when you had gone home to your empty apartment and watched your empty shows and eaten your empty salads and thought you were satisfied by it all. You doubted he knew he had this effect, and you certainly wouldn’t be the one to tell him — after all, he’d probably be frightened if he found out that you had, in such a short time, grown so attached to him and his games and his conduct.

“The oranges,” he said. “You tried to buy them the first time I saw you.”

“What?” you said. Now it was his turn to avert his eyes and yours to watch him in fascination, finding it far easier to stomach a secret than to spit it out.

“It was a long time ago, but it was definitely you,” he said. “It was a Thursday, and I was just coming back from practice; this grocery store is far from my apartment but close enough to the field that, when Otoya — he was sick, so he had skipped that day — texted me that we were out of bread, I decided I’d make the detour. I wasn’t planning on staying here long, but right when I was about to leave, I saw you. You only had a packet of instant noodles and a bag of oranges in your hands. They were on sale back then, too, but—”

“But I had to put them back,” you finished for him, remembering that day as well as he did, albeit not his role. “Because I didn’t have enough money to get them, even when they were 50% off.”

“Yes,” he said. “I left before you noticed me, but I always — I always wish I hadn’t. I kept making the trip here, doing my shopping every Thursday at the same time until it became ingrained in me like routine, and I told myself if I ever saw you again, I’d buy them for you.”

“I can buy my own oranges now,” you said.

“I know,” he said. “That wasn’t the only reason I came back each week.”

“Why else?” you said.

“Well,” he said. “I can’t just tell you everything in one go like that, can I?”

You scoffed. “You can.”

“But I won’t,” he said.

“But you won’t,” you said with a sigh. “Anyways. So you knew me even before we met?”

“I knew of you,” he corrected you. “Though not as a model. Just as an absurdly beautiful girl I saw in a supermarket once and thought about occasionally.”

“So it was a coincidence that you happened to be at that shoot?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“When Yukimiya told us about the girl he’d be working with, Otoya looked you up,” he said. “And despite how long it had been since you last crossed my mind as well as how much longer it had been since the only time I saw you in the flesh, I recognized you immediately.”

“You have a good memory,” you said.

“So I’ve been told,” he said. “I didn’t go with any strange intentions, if you’re wondering. I only wanted to know what kind of person you actually were.”

He wasn’t a typical admirer, taken with your celebrity or your status. He was curious, not about Y/N L/N the model, but you, the girl he nearly met in a grocery store so long ago it was all but inconsequential. You wondered what it said about you that instead of being wary, you only felt all the more inclined to reveal yourself to him. You wondered if this was some lack of self-preservation, as your brother would declare it, or if this was an innate knowledge, an instinctual understanding that the man before you was different.

Maybe he was or maybe he wasn’t. You didn’t know, and maybe, on some level, you didn’t care. Taking his hand, you set it on the bag of oranges, placing your own atop it firmly, your thumb tracing his scratched knuckles.

“Buy them for me,” you said. “And I’ll tell you who I am, plainly and without fuss.”

“Is that what you consider a good deal?” he said. “I’d say you’re a bit more valuable than a discount bag of oranges.”

“Do you think so?” you said. “Fine, then. The oranges, and a pack of instant noodles.”

“Closer,” he said. “But I’m a fair person. I can’t accept.”

“You,” you said, all in a rush. “The oranges, the noodles, and you. That’s my final offer. I’ll give you everything if you give me that much.”

He didn’t even pretend to consider it. You thought that it must’ve been what he was waiting for all along, what he had been, in that way of his, leading you towards.

“You’re a tough bargainer,” he said.

“So you agree to it?” you said.

“Sure,” he said, and when he noticed your face falling at the noncommittal nature of his acceptance, he laughed. “Yes. Yes, yes, I agree. The oranges, the noodles, and me; you can have all three as you please.”

And it was odd, but just for a moment, the reprieve lasting only for as long as his breathy chuckle, your feet ceased to ache.

[rollinouttahere-writes-misc]

Hi hope you’re doing ok ! Would it be ok if I request yandere Itadori with his best friend reader who nearly gets killed by a cursed spirit please 🙏

(If possible can the reader be female if not gn is fine with me ^^) (romantic if possible if not platonic is fine as well XD )

Lassitude

Yandere Itadori Yuji x Reader

2.9 k words

Summary: You just got to meet up with a friend you hadn't seen in a while, and now you're headed home after a fun day out. But you can't shake the feeling of being watched. It's nothing... right?

Warnings: female presenting reader, universe typical violence, injury to reader, death, yandere if you squint

“Thanks again for meeting up with me today, I know it was really short notice.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m just happy to see you again. When you transferred out of school so suddenly, I got really worried about you. I’m just glad that you’re okay.” You look over at Yuji and smile half-heartedly, “Sasaki and Iguchi have been asking about you a lot. You should probably reach out to them, too. I feel a little bad hogging you all to myself like this.”

A glimmer of hope sparks in your heart. Maybe there’s a reason he reached out to only you?

“Oh, are they? I didn’t think we were close enough for them to be worried about me.” Yuji scratches the back of his head, looking a little flustered. “But thanks for letting me know. You’re such a good friend.”

Ah. There it is. “Friend”. 

It’s not that you’re ungrateful for your friendship with Yuji, but… you would be lying through your teeth if you said you didn’t want it to be something more.

Yuji is the kindest person you’ve ever met, and he held the first place title by a significant margin. Anyone would be lucky to call him a friend, and you were, but you couldn’t help how your heart felt. How it skipped a beat when he would lend you his hand to help you up. How it fluttered when he remembered your favorite snacks and drinks and would make sure to get one for you. How it felt like it was going to explode when he shot you a text asking if you could meet up today.

And today had been fun. You met with him at a local arcade that you two used to go to all the time. Despite all of the months apart, you fell into the same synergy and easy conversation that had always come naturally. It was as if you’d just seen him yesterday. He even won you a little Cinnamoroll plush from one of the claw machines.

“Is everything okay? You got quiet all of a sudden.” Yuji is just ahead of you, walking backwards with a concerned look on his face.

A well practiced fake smile is plastered onto your face following his question. “Everything’s fine.” Your fingers mess with the ears of your plush, “I was just thinking about how I wish we could do this more often, like we used to.”

The guilt that flashes across his face makes you immediately regret your words. Guilt tripping Yuji into hanging out with you more is the last thing you would want to do to him, so you quickly try to backpedal, “Not that I’m blaming you or anything! I get that you’re busy.”

“It’s okay,” the smile he flashes you makes your heart feel fuzzy, “I get it. I wish we could see each other more often, too. I’ll try to make more room for you from now on. I promise.”

“Really?” You can no longer contain your excitement. Without even thinking about it, you leap forward and all but tackle him in a hug, “Thank you! That’s the best news I’ve gotten all week!” More like all year, but you’re trying to at least pretend to be normal about this.

It dawns on you that this isn’t very laid back and casual of you. You release him and step back, clearing your throat and trying to act nonchalant, “I mean, only if you’re sure you have the time. I don’t want you going out of your way just for me.” You do. You absolutely do.

Yuji flashes his signature smile, “I want to go out of my way for you. You’re important to me, (Y/N).” 

Critical hit. Your face feels hot and you avert your eyes. How can he say something like that so casually? This would basically be a confession from someone else, but sweet sentiments like this are a staple of Itadori’s lingo. It almost makes you want to scream. How can he be so amazing and dense at the same time?!

“Thank you… I really appreciate that.” Oh god, you feel like your heart is going to burst again. “A-Anyway, it’s getting late. I should head home before my parents start to worry.”

“Do you want me to walk you home?”

Yes. Absolutely. More than anything. “No, that’s okay. I know you still have to get back to your new school.”

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind.” The smile on his face was adorable, and it almost made you crack. But no, you need some time alone to calm yourself down.

“I’m sure. My home isn’t far from here anyway.” You decide to indulge yourself and give him another hug before turning to go your separate way. “I’ll see you later. Bye, Yuji!”

Yuji holds his hand out toward you, and for a second you think he’s going to say something. But instead, he retracts his hand and rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah, see you later. Stay safe, (Y/N).”

A combination of disappointment and warmth fills your chest. His well wishes for you are nice, but you can’t help but be bummed that he didn’t say whatever was on his mind. It’s fine. You’re used to not getting exactly what you want from him. At least he’s still your friend despite the distance.

Walking home doesn’t take long, you weren’t lying when you said your home was nearby. But as you walk, you can’t shake off the feeling of being watched. You keep looking over your shoulder, hoping to see Yuji, but he isn’t there. No one is. It makes a chill run down your spine, prompting you to walk faster and hold your plush tighter. It’s nothing. You know it’s nothing, but that doesn’t make you any less creeped out.

Just as you make it home, your phone rings. Feeling like you’re safe now that you’re on the front steps, you slide your phone out of your pocket and check the caller ID. It’s Yuji!

Without waiting another second, you answer the call, “Yes?” Did that sound too eager? Probably. Too late to do anything about it now.

“Good, you answered.” Yuji sighs in relief and lets out an embarrassed chuckle, “Uh, I don’t suppose my wallet is still in your purse is it?”

Oh, that’s right! You offered to hold onto it for him after it flew out of his pocket while you two were playing DDR. As expected of him, Yuji got way too into it and his wallet got sent sailing through the air as a result of how hard he was dancing. “Hang on, let me check.” You hold your phone to your ear with your shoulder as you sift through your purse, “Yep! It’s right here.”

“Great, I’m glad I at least know where it is now. My bus pass is in there, so I’ll have to come get it from you. I’ll be there in a few.”

“Wait, I would feel bad making you walk all the way here and back. I’m home now, I’ll ask my dad if he can drive me there so you don’t miss the next bus.” Yuji starts to protest, but you silence him, “At least let me ask first. I’m sure my dad will be more than happy to help.”

You push open the door and get ready to call out to your father, but the words are knocked out of you. Something huge slams into your back, launching you through the air. You yelp from the surprise and pain of it all, then crash down onto the coffee table. It snaps under your weight, and you are left coughing and gasping for air after… an attack? What the hell was that?

“(Y/N)? What was that? Are you okay?” Yuji’s voice comes through your phone, and for a moment all you can think is that you’re amazed that you were able to hold onto it through that.

Before you can muster the strength to speak, you scream instead as something sharp sinks into your leg. You shriek and look down, finding blood pouring out of several holes in your leg and staining your sock, but- but nothing is there! You can feel something, but you don’t see anything!

More calls of your name ring through the home, this time from your parents. You don’t answer, you can’t. Whatever pierced your leg starts to move, and it’s strong! You continue to scream as you’re shaken violently, getting slammed into furniture and the floor by whatever has a hold of you. Your grip on your phone relinquishes, sending it flying away and into a wall as you’re flailed about.

“What’s going on?! What’s hurting her?! I don’t see anything!” Your mother sounds as confused as she does terrified. Her eyes dart all over the room, but she can’t see anything either. 

“Mom! Dad! Help me!” You wail and kick blindly with your free leg, and then you feel it. Your foot connects with something. Something is here, but why can’t you see it?!

Your father picks up the broken top of the coffee table, then slams it down over where your leg is bleeding from. Instead of hitting you, it stops about a foot above and breaks. Whatever was holding you lets go and appears to back up into the wall, making the framed photos fall off of it. A scratching noise cuts through the air, and when you follow them to the source, you see four sets of claw marks on the floor.

It’s when you look up that you start to get an idea of what attacked you. The thing is still invisible, but your blood is now staining its teeth. Several rows of long, razor sharp teeth glisten red, finally revealing something about what is in here with you.

“What the hell is that?” Your father looks dumbfounded, but he’s still clearly on high alert. He watches the dripping maw closely as it begins to move, circling to the right, blocking the pathway to the front door. “Get to our room and call for help! Now! I’ll hold this- this thing off!”

Mom didn’t need to be told twice. She had already been crouched down next to you when he gave the order. With a strength you didn’t think she possessed, your mom heaves you up onto her shoulder and runs.

The sound of scraped wood echoes through the house as the beast lunges at your father. He slams what remains of the piece of wood he was holding into what you assume is the face, but that’s the last thing you see before your vision is obscured by the walls encasing the staircase leading to the upstairs bedrooms. You want to cry out for your dad to come with you, but your voice fails you.

As soon as she makes it into the room, your mother locks the door and wedges a chair under the handle. You’re dropped onto the bed as she fumbles to get her phone out of her pocket and dial the right number, all the while looking over your wound.

It’s truly a sickening sight. The meat of your calf has been shredded from the monster that bit you. Is… Is that bone? You feel like you’re going to throw up or faint. Maybe both.

“We need help!” Your mother’s voice draws your attention away from the horrendous state of your leg. “Something broke into our home and attacked our daughter! I- I don’t know what! I couldn’t see it, but it bit my daughter and was throwing her around! She needs an ambulance, now! Hurry!”

Loud crashing and yelling is coming from outside of the room. It escalates to screaming, then cuts off abruptly into complete silence. No. No, no, no! This isn’t happening, this can’t be happening!

Your mother cries out her husband’s name, but there is no reply. “Oh god! Please hurry! I think it just killed my husband!”

Something heavy hits the door. Then again, each time harder than the last. The wood is starting to break, and the wall is cracking. It’s breaking down the door, and it feels almost certain that it’ll get through before help can arrive.

This is a fact that your mom seemingly also picked up on. She scoops you back into her arms and runs to the closet, sliding open the door and practically throwing you inside. She tightly clutches one of your hands in hers and holds your tear soaked face with the other, “Y-You need to stay quiet, okay? Don’t make a sound. I love you so much.”

She retreats and slides the door shut again before you can put together anything resembling a coherent thought, much less a sentence. No… Why is she doing this? She should be hiding too! Come back! Please come back!

The door to the bedroom gives in to the tremendous force of the monster outside of it and shatters. You can hear your mother let out a startled shriek, then a sob.

“P-Please… I don’t care what happens to me, just leave my baby alone! Don’t hurt her anymore, I’m begging you!”

There’s just enough of a gap in the closet door to let you peer through it. Part of you knows this is a bad decision. But you can’t bring yourself to look away. Remnants of the door crack and break under the weight of the blight attacking your family as it enters the room and encroaches on its prey. Your mother stumbles back and her phone is thrown at it in a last desperate attempt to ward it off.

When it finally steps into view, it’s covered in blood, and you instinctively know that it’s your father’s. The monster is almost as tall as your mother and quadrupedal. The mouth is disproportionately large, being almost as big as the misshapen head it’s a part of.

It corners your terrified mother, then attacks. She screams and tries to fend it off, but it bites into her arm and rips it from her body. Her wails of agony and fear make you begin to sob harder despite her pleas for you to keep quiet. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. That thing is going to kill her and then you, just like it did your father.

You tear your eyes away from the carnage just as your mother’s head starts to disappear into the razor sharp abyss. You can’t do it. You can’t watch. You know it’s over when her screams are cut short.

All you can do is sob as the beast approaches the closet. You don’t even attempt to move or defend yourself as the door is ripped out of its track, fully exposing you. There’s even more blood on it now. Worse yet, clumps of mom’s hair are wedged in between its teeth.

This is it. This is how you die. Massacred along with the rest of your family. At least you three won’t be separated for long. You stare in horror as it steps closer. You blink. Someone is over it. Then the monster is sent through the floor with the person you saw falling right with it.

What? Was that… pink hair? I- It can’t be…

A loud struggle is happening on the floor beneath you, but your brain is struggling to process it. It’s struggling to process any of this. You should be dead. Why aren’t you dead? You’re so numb to your surroundings that you don’t even notice when the fight stops. The only thing that tears you from your stupor is your name being called out.

After a few slow blinks, you focus your attention on the person in front of you. Yuji. It is Yuji. This doesn’t make any sense.

The complete lack of a response from you frightens him, and he shakes you, “Talk to me, (Y/N)! Please let me know that you’re okay!”

No. You’re not okay. Nothing is okay.

“Mom… Dad…” Your voice is hoarse and cracks with each word.

His expression becomes even more devastated. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry that I didn’t get here in time to save them.” He moves, then hugs you close to his chest, “But I saved you. I made it just in time to save you.”

Distantly, your mind registers the fact that he is continuing to speak, but you don’t really hear any of it. It’s all a white noise to you. Why is this happening? Why are you still alive when your parents are dead? Viciously murdered by a thing that none of you could even truly see. Was this your fault? Did you unknowingly bring that thing home with you?

Itadori picks you up, but you just hang in his arms limply. The sound of sirens echoes in the distance. They’re far too late to be of any use now.

“I’m going to get you some help, but we can’t stay here. Just hang tight. You’re safe now.”

Safe? An invisible monster just murdered your whole family. You’re never going to feel safe again. But you don’t say any of this. You don’t have the strength, the will. You have nothing left, not anymore. What your friend does now is of no consequence to you. Nothing is.

You may have a pulse, but your life ended when your parents’ did.

[suugarbabe]

the secret | m.r x reader

Prompt: Can you do Mattheo Riddle x Reader best friends to lovers but where she is also the sister of Theo Nott. And Mattheo is also Theo’s best friend? The Nott family are hosting a Xmas party with all purebloods etc and Mattheo gets jealous? Thank you so much!❤️

Word count: 1.6k

Warning: angst, smut, 18+, MDNI below the line

An: not proofread sozz guys.

The first time it happened, you and Mattheo agreed it was just a mistake. A drunken mistake that no one would ever know about, especially your twin. It was just a drunken rendezvous, gnashing teeth, nails on skin, no marks left where others could see them. You were friends, he was Theo’s best friend. It couldn’t ever be anything more.

So why did you find yourself outside of his dorm room, fist hanging in the air while you debated knocking on the door or not. You lowered your hand, mumbling to yourself, “Merlin, y/n, you’re such an idiot.” You turned around, ready to take the shameful walk back when you heard the door swing open and your name being called, “Y/n/n?” You turned back round, cheeks aflame. You stuttered over your tongue, trying to come up with a good explanation, “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

Mattheo cut you off, smirk slowly sliding onto his lips as he was stepping to the side, “Come in.” You walked through the doorway, him close behind you, muttering a locking and silencing charm. That time you were sober, you couldn’t blame not realizing where you were or who you were with. You sought this out, and Mattheo happily accepted.

It only happened two more times before holiday approached, but those two more times were all it took for you to be hooked on him. The first few days of Christmas holiday you just moped around, dutifully following your dads instructions, playing the role of silent obedient daughter. Every year the Nott household threw a Christmas party, inviting all the important pureblood families, all the Dark Lord’s most loyal and dedicated followers.

Normally thinking about having to interact with those type of people made bile rise in your throat, but fortunately enough you were not the only one with parents who were loyal to the Dark Lord. Actually, you were excited to see his son.

When Mattheo appareted to the Nott Manor with his mother Bellatrix, his instinct was to search for you. However what his eyes found was your father parading you in front of the Zabini family, Blaise and his mother.

What Mattheo couldn’t see was how disinterested Blaise looked as your father talked about the importance of joining your families, how much power it would bring the Dark Lord.

This was a common occurrence for the last several parties your father has thrown, trying to betroth you to another powerful family. To make sure that he looked good and accomplished for the Dark Lord. But Blaise knew you had fallen for Mattheo. He could see it in the way you two interacted, or more so strategically didn’t interact.

But Mattheo was a jealous man, as well as possessive. Though you had no interest in Blaise beyond friendship, that didn’t stop Mattheo from waiting for you in your room.

So when you were finally granted permission for a break from your father, walking into your room you were startled by Mattheo sprawled on your bed. He was lying on his head, one hand behind his head while his other was twirling his wand around his fingers.

“So when’s the wedding, Princess? Will I get an invitation?” Mattheo swung his legs over the edge of the bed, sitting up now. His signature glare was pointed at you, his eyes seemingly dead but you could see the hurt in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, your heels clicking against the hardwood, “There will be no wedding, Mattheo. Blaise is not the first person my father has tried this with and he won’t be the last.”

Mattheo’s face only turned into more of a scowl. He grabbed hold of the back of your thighs, “Is that what you like, hmm? Being paraded around like a little house slut for some random dark wizard?”

His grip on your thighs tightened with his words, his possessive nature causing heat to pool in your centre. You ran your hands along his strong chest, “You know the only one I’m a slut for is you Mattheo.”

Your hands gripped onto Mattheo’s shoulders as you straddled his lap. His hands slid up your thighs, gripping on to your ass firmly, “Are you going to show me how good of a slut you can be f’me, Princess?”

You nodded, lips ghosting the shell of his ear, “Gonna be such a good girl for you, Teo.” You ground your hips down, feeling his hard cock straining against his trousers. A low groan emitted from his throat.

Without warning Mattheo flipped the two of you over, him now towering over you. His lips attached to your throat, finding the place he knew made you whimper. Mattheo’s hands explored your body, coming up to squeeze and knead at your breasts.

His fingertips followed the v cut of your dress before gripping and ripping apart the thin material. “What the fuck, Mattheo?” You tried to shout at him but it came out more of a moan.

“Don’t fret, darling, I’ll mend it after,” his lips now trailing down your chest, entrapping one of your nipples in your mouth. You decided that Mattheo had far too many clothes on, gripping and ripping open his dress shirts, the sounds of buttons bouncing off the hardwood floor.

You could feel Mattheo smirk against your skin, “Thought you were going to be good for me, Princess. Now you’re ripping my clothes?” Mattheo made a tsking sound at you, “Seems like I need to teach you a lesson now don’t I?”

You bit your lip, nodding. Without warning Mattheo was two fingers deep in your cunt, scissoring his fingers and stretching you out.

“Oh, fuck, Mattheo,” your back arched, chest pressing further into him. Him working you with his fingers had you in such bliss you hadn’t even noticed him shedding his trousers. Not until you felt his fingers leave you, a whimper coming from your throat as you felt them replaced by the head of his cock rubbing against your folds, coating himself in your slick.

“Please, Teo, don’t tease,” you put on your sweetest tone as you bucked your hips.

“Patience, Princess. Before I really punished you,” he growled in your ear, slowly sinking himself himself into you until his hips are flushed to yours. When he feels you clench around him he gets the signal to move, slowly rutting his hips into you.

You raked your nails down the muscles of his back, “Harder, Teo. Need it, harder.” Mattheo lifted up ones of your legs, resting it on his shoulder as he started a brutal pace, one of your hands flying to hold yourself steady against the headboard.

You felt that familiar feeling you often got with Mattheo building in your stomach, every thrust bringing you closer to bliss. Mattheo’s hand had a vice grip on your thigh as his other rested on your lower stomach, just above your pelvis.

The pressure from his hand made the head of his cock hit that special place inside with every thrust, your jaw slack with silent moans. A devilish smirk displayed on Mattheo’s face, “Can you feel me right here, Princess? Feel me deep inside your pretty cunt? Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up.”

Your cunt clenched around him at his filthy words causing a gutters moan from Mattheo, “There she is, there’s my perfect little slut, you liked that don’t you? Like the idea of me fucking you full of my cum, feeling it leak out of you when we return back to the party?”

You nodded, too fucked out to respond properly with words, Mattheo’s thumb found your clit, rubbing tight figure eights. Your head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut seeing stars and you fell over the edge, coating Mattheo’s cock with your juices.

Mattheo’s wasn’t far behind, hips stuttering before stilling as you felt him coat your walls with warm spurts before nearling collapsing on top of you, his head on your chest as your hands came up to play with the curls as the base of his neck.

As Mattheo slowly pulled his softening cock from your cunt you whined as the feeling of emptiness. Mattheo kissed your cheek tenderly as he stood from the bed, grabbing his wand that he carelessly discarded on the floor.

He gave it a small wave, seamlessly cleaning you both with minimal effort, “Sorry, love. While I’d love to dote on you, even draw you a bath I know we’ve already been gone for too long.”

You nodded, a small smile on your face as you walked toward him on wobbly legs, “S’okay, Teo. There’s always later.” You gave him a teasing wink. Mattheo let out a low growl, “Don’t start something you know we can finish right now, love.”

You gave his cheek a loving kiss in apology. Mattheo took a step back, waving his wand once more so that you were both dressed again, looking as if nothing had even happened. “Well don’t you clean up nice,” you teased.

Mattheo walked toward your bedroom door, holding out his arm, “M’lady.” You giggled, walking up and looping your arm with his. He opened your door, beginning to walk you down the hallway.

“Mattheo, wait. Do you really think it’s a good idea for us to walk back in to the party together? I mean, what about Theo?”

Mattheo nodded, “See I’ve been thinking, who better for your dad to see you with, all cozied up and chummy than the Dark Lord’s son himself, hmm? Papa Nott would just love that arrangement wouldn’t he?”

You held on to his arm tighter, “You know I never tell you enough how brilliant you are?”

Mattheo chucked lightly, “No, love, you don’t. But that’s okay,” he leaned in close to your ear as you entered the main room once more, “I’ll teach you a lesson later.”

[multifandomgirl08]

The One That I Adore [Bittersweet Mini Series]

Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Summary: She promised him that he would see her again. She just never said when that would be.

A/N: Sorry for the super long wait of this chapter. My inspiration for this work has been at a bit of a stand still. But I already have the next two chapters started so they will hopefully be done sooner.

Words: 3.5k

Previous Part → Next Part Bittersweet Masterlist

This whole night was too much for him. Charles could appreciate being in Santorini for the awards ceremony but had no desire to stay for the actual gala after the awards were handed out.  

Charles had been with Lando, Pierre, Max, and Max’s wife at the awards ceremony. Giving out the awards had ended half an hour ago. The married couple had disappeared about 10 minutes ago and they hadn’t been seen since.

“Has anyone seen the Verstappen’s?” Lando asked.

“I think they went back to their hotel,” Pierre replied. That was what everyone assumed happened when Max unexpectedly disappeared from a party. Either they went home if they were in Monaco, or Belgium, or back to their hotel room for the night. It wasn’t like it mattered, Max had already done all of his media duties for the night.

“Really?” Lando asked, Charles could tell from the tone of his voice that his question was littered with a sarcastic tone. “Because I’m pretty sure I just saw them snogging in the corner by the coat closet.”

Lando pointed in the direction of the way out of the room. Charles couldn’t help but lightly chuckle.

“It’s like their wedding all over again,” Lando said with a slight groan. “Only this time, Daniel isn’t taking pictures of the whole thing.”

“At least it’s not Barcelona 2023 when she decided to surprise Max.” Pierre couldn’t help but bring up with a laugh.

“I told both of them and you that it was an accident.” Lando just shook his head, but Charles could spot the light blush that was now painting Lando’s cheeks.

Charles knew that Lando was tired of hearing about that time when he had walked up to Max’s hotel room after the Grand Prix was over to ask if he wanted to get drinks and ended up finding the hotel room door not all the way closed, and Max and his then-girlfriend, now wife in a compromised position. There was never enough brain bleach to remove what Lando saw from his memory when he walked into that hotel room that day.

“What’s going on with you?” Pierre asked as they stood together. “You have been acting strange since the moment I saw you.”

Sometimes Charles forgot how well Pierre knew him. Charles hadn’t really been talking to any of the other guys. His eyes were too busy running over the crowds of people looking for her, he hadn’t seen her since he showed up. The one bright spot of his whole evening was nowhere to be seen.

“Nothing.” He quickly replied. Pierre gave him a look that would have given his less-than-stellar English a run for its money.

“You are lying through your teeth.” Pierre’s switch to French made Lando look at them both.

“I’m not lying, I’m just looking at the people.” He raised his shoulders in defense.

“Right,” Pierre said before looking away.

Charles looked through the crowd of people again not seeing her anywhere. Maybe she wasn’t here tonight, maybe something had come up with her schooling or something. Hadn’t she said that her uncle normally came to these events instead of her?

“Carlos,” Charles heard Lando say. “Can you please help me out with Charles? It’s like he’s on another planet or something.”

Charles pulled up the sleeve of his dress shirt to look at his watch. It read 9:45 pm. He was allowed to leave by 11:30 after all of his press duties were done. That’s what he gets for showing up late.

“I’m sorry Lando, but I can not help you,” Carlos said with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Why not?”

“Because he has been like this since Monaco.”

“That was six months ago.” Charles wanted to correct Lando, it wasn’t six months it had been seven months since the Monaco Grand Prix.

Charles hadn't bothered telling anyone else on the grid about her. Max knew and so did his wife. Charles didn't want to be teased by any of the other drivers when it came to her. He was too scared that she would run from him and he wouldn't see her again, and he wasn’t willing to bet on that.

The rest of the Gala passed by painstakingly slow, Charles didn’t see her anywhere and at this point was pretty sure that she either wasn’t here or negated her promise to him.

At one point Charles got stuck in a conversation with a few of the Ferrari sponsors and one of them had mentioned that his niece was supposed to come with him tonight but couldn’t because of a scheduling issue with her school. His interests peaked for a moment. But it couldn’t be her, there was no way they were the same person.

By the time 11:15 rolled around, Charles said his goodbyes to Fred after managing to slip away from the crowds of people, and made his way out to his car to go back to his hotel. Once he got to the hotel, he changed out of his suit and then quickly sat at his little portable piano. His fingers glided over the black and white keys. A somber melody played as he tried to think of her, dancing in her red dress, in the reverie of his mind.

The Ferrari Fashion show was something that Charles had grown used to. It was a part of driving for the team. He would get to sit in a crowd, hopefully be unrecognizable, and watch clothes go down a runway.

There were so many faces that he didn’t recognize, not a single sponsor in the room, but plenty of influencers, and fashion people that he didn’t normally rub elbows with.

It was easy to find his seat from there, it was on a white card on the backrest in the first row towards the front of the white runway. Some people were already sitting, others were standing by their seats.

He took his time walking over, seeing people in Ferrari branded clothes, or some off shade color of the famous Rosso corsa. He took a seat, and could see Lewis on the other side of the runway in a red Louis Vuitton set with black shoes.

More seats started to fill up, and for a moment he swore he saw her pass by in one of the back rows. But as soon as she was there, the lights had started to dim signifying the show starting.

Charles did his best to keep his eyes on the models and the clothes that were coming down the runway, but sometimes the light would hit just past the first row and he would go looking for her in the crowd.

The show felt like it lasted forever, models going around an endless carousel. The sound of cameras constantly clicking felt like hands on a clock going around and around, click, click, click.

The show eventually ended, people started walking out in little packs. Charles stayed behind for a few moments before someone knocked shoulders with him pushing him towards the front of the room. There was supposed to be some dinner happening after the show that he wasn’t sure if he would be going to.

“I think it would be good for you to go.” He heard from an older gentleman standing next to someone. “You’re working for us now, you’re going to have to get used to being around these types of people.”

“I know uncle,” He heard in a voice he had memorized by now.

“You’ll do great. I believe that you can impress any person in this room if you try.”

She gave the man a nod and heard her say, ”I’ll try.”

He was quick to reply afterwards saying that he would see her after the dinner and to text if she needed anything. He saw the older man get into a black town car and drive away.

She was still standing there and Charles took small steps towards her. He was pretty sure that she wasn’t paying him any attention, just looking from her phone to the back alley of the venue. When she finally did look up, their eyes instantly met. He felt like he could see a glimpse of worry fill her eyes for a moment before it disappeared.

It took her a moment to say anything, and he could tell how awkward she felt for a bit. Eventually they talked about the show, which was a little boring but he hadn’t seen her in almost a year and didn’t want to push her.

“Are you heading to the dinner now?”

“Yeah, just waiting for my car.”

“We can take mine since we are going to the same place.” He felt like he was pushing his luck a little, asking if she would want to sit in an enclosed space with him for the half-an hour it would take to get to their dinner location.

“Umm,” She said, sounding a little unsure. “Okay. I guess.”

She was quick to tuck her phone into the small handbag that was hanging off her wrist. They walked over to the valet and waited until the red Ferrari pulled up. They both got in with the sound of Ambient Downtempo music that filled the silence of the car ride, it wasn’t Charles’ normal preference but she didn’t seem to mind, even having the courage to reach over and turn the stereo up at a song she seemed to like.

For Charles it was definitely a challenge to drive through the city and be able to concentrate on the road while she was sitting so close to him. Just as Charles felt like he was gaining the courage to talk to her they had pulled up to where the dinner was being hosted. He was happy to see that there weren’t any cameras around the car waiting to catch pictures of him.

Charles had gotten out of the car. He intended to walk over to the other side to open her door, but the valet had beat him to it. However, he still waited for her, giving her his arm so it would be a little easier to walk in. “Thank you.” She muttered before tucking her head a little low. He gave her a smile, trying to do his best to reassure her. He didn’t know why he felt like he needed to. They made their way through before finding out that they would be sitting at different tables. They were sectioned off by number, she had tucked the place card into her bag before he got the chance to look. Charles took his but still let her hold onto his arm before they walked into the room finally separating.

He let her slip away from him, doing nothing more than exchanging a smile and parting ways. He was sure that he would see her again tonight.

Dinner had been a slow affair. He had been sitting with Lewis, and although his fellow teammate was nice to talk to about team things, he would have preferred to sit and talk with her instead. The second course had come and Lewis had left to the other side of the room. He saw her move from her chair at a far table, moving closer to the side of the room that he was on. He had been eating through his burrata and tomatoes when he could see her again. “I am so sorry.” He heard close to him. “You were sitting over there right?” He didn’t hear a response. “I hate to ask, but would you mind switching tables with me?”

“Sure.” He heard before he saw a woman with blonde hair move out of her seat that was at the same table as Charles and saw her move into that seat instead. 

He had watched the blonde woman move to the far side of the room, retaking the further seat and started talking to someone at that table. This was Charles’ opportunity to talk to her again, she was only sitting on the other side of his table.

He lifted his hand up slightly trying to catch her attention. She barely lifted her hand back to wave at him before he moved his napkin off his lap and onto the chair next to him. He was hoping that she would have the courage to come and sit next to him since he seemed to be the only person that she knew here.

She didn’t, at least not at first. She seemed to pick at the food on her plate taking a few bites before placing her fork back down. He always felt like a bit of a voyeur looking at her, watching as her eyes moved around the room until they stopped at him.

Her eyes looked at him as if she was asking as if it was okay to come up to him, her eyes going slightly to his left to the open chair where his napkin was. He gave her a small nod, telling her it was okay to sit with him despite the fact that it was someone else's seat.

She had moved from her seat and over to him, he picked up his napkin and placed it back in his lap pushing his chair out just a tad so he could turn away from Lewis’ chair to talk to her.

It takes her a few moments to move from one chair to another. He notices that she sets her bag down first before pulling the chair out.

"Hey," she greets him.

"Hi." He can't help but say back. For all the flirting that he has done with her the last few times he saw her he can't seem to do that anymore. He knows a family member of hers is a team sponsor, he would love to pretend that he is unaware of this.

"You weren't at the last Gala," He blurts out.

Her eyes filled with recognition, "Yeah, something with school came up. I was in my last semester and had finals but I'm now out of college and working for my uncle."

So, she hadn't negated on her promise. "It was not the same without you," He says before he can stop himself. "Too stuffy, sitting around waiting for things to happen." Charles knows he's rambling a bit but he did miss her. He needs to finally get the courage to ask for her number, that would be much easier.

"Is this like that as well?" She asked.

"No," He moved to pick up his fork. "I get to leave after dinner and get to go back to my hotel."

"You don't go party after?"

"No, no. I am not Lando." Placing his fork down and waving his hands in protest.

"So what do you do then?"

"Normally I go and play my piano in my room, or watch something." He enjoyed his solitude. It was part of his whole tortured artist thing that Arthur liked to make jokes about. Which was funny since his younger brother was very much the same.

She doesn't say anything for a moment. Did she think that was an invitation to come back to his hotel with him?

"I'm sorry," she says. "I'm bad at this... We keep meeting at these events and-"

"It never goes further?" He asks. She nods back at him.

“Maybe we can exchange numbers or-” He started to say and then cut himself off. No, bad idea. Her family worked for his team.

“Or?” She askes.

“Next time, you can come with me?” He lets himself ask. He knows he’s taking a risk.

“Come with you?” She asks back.

“Yes, I pick you up from your hotel or where you are staying. We can cordinate with whoever sets you up to come to these events.” This feels like a longshot. She won’t agree to this.

“Do you really want to see me that badly again?” She asks. He can feel like she wants to say that she’s not special enough for that.

All he can do is nod at her. There is nothing else that he can say. Or nothing that he can say that he knows won’t scare her off. He would like to say that he feels like he’s falling for her, that he wants to get to know her more, to feel like he has a tangable part of her for him to grab onto instead of just the moments they seem to catch each other in.

He doesn’t want to keep thinking of her as the girl who sneaks off during the party, he wants to always have the image of her dancing in his mind to the melody that comes from his fingers. He’s sick of looking at the incomplete page of sheet music, it’s been tauning him since he last saw her.

“I-” She starts to say and then cuts herself off. “I can-” She’s cut off by someone coming to their table.

“Uncle,” She quickly says to the older man he saw at the Prize Giving Gala at the end of last year. Her eyes are wide, she is obviously surprised to see him.“I thought I was going to see you after.”

“You were supposed to, but something came up.” The older man says. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m taking a flight back home. My assistant will call you in the morning with your flight details. I don’t want you to feel stranded here without knowing what’s going on.”

She gives him a nod back.

The older man looks at him and then back to her.

“Take care of her son.” He said to Charles. “I’ll call you when your at home on Monday.”

The older man leaves them. Charles can’t help but let out a heavy breath.

She immediately starts to apologize after, “He’s like that with everyone.”

“And you work for him?” He asks.

“He offered me a job after I was finished with school, a good stepping stone.”

“And you also live with him?” He can’t help but ask even though he knows that he’s assuming.

“No, I don’t. My uncle lives in New York. When I was going to school I lived in Los Angeles, but I work at my uncles office in Monaco… It’s been a big adjustment these last 6 months.”

Ah that explains a lot of things, it really seemed like she just disappeared from the world for a while. She probably has been under a lot of stress.

“Well, I would still like to go to the next event with you. If you can clear it with your uncle.”

“I would love to but I’m not sure if-” She starts to say.

And he can read the rejection, he knows what it is.

He instead reaches for his phone before she can say anything else.

“Just take my number. If he says no, then I at least know that you tried.” He takes the place card with his name on it and shovels around in the pockets of his jacket. He knows he has a pen somewhere even though he hates that it’s become a habit that he now carries one with him.

He starts to write it before slowly handing it over.

He watches as she tentatively takes it from him and slips it into her small bag that doesn’t even look big enough to fit a phone in.

He can only sit and keep talking to her from there. Her shoulders seem to loosen again after a bit. They bring out the next course of food and sit and talk as they both pick at what ends up on their plates.

There is a low brrng of a phone going off close to them before she looks down and sees her pull out a phone from under her dress. It doesn’t look like it would fit into the bag she has with her.

‘I’m sorry.’ she mouthes and then moves to walk to the other side of the room.

He can feel that she is being forced away from him, and all he wants to do is sink his fingers around her wrist and pull her back.

He doesn’t though. He watches her be pulled away from him to the other side of the room to talk to whoever is on the phone, and then into a conversation with someone else to rub shoulders with other people he doesn’t care to acknowledge. She seems to disappear into the night at some point, after being paraded around the room and all he can do it wait for the dinner to end and go back to his hotel room. He doesn’t bother changing, opens the piano cover and sinks his fingers into the keys on the far right end, the haunting notes spilling from his fingers.

It seems like she will continue to live in his daydreams a little longer.

He finds the sheet music with her melody on it and at the top of the page writes;

He places the pen on the sheet music stand and leaves it sitting there. We will meet again, he promises himself after he’s moved off the piano stool to finally change out of his suit.

Bittersweet taglist: @omgsuperstarg, @bite-me-en-la-boca, @itsjustkhaos, @cixrosie, @konsti081

[phant0mth1ef]

chapter 7: my bitch pose is NEASTY.

-

“…”

“… so? is that it?? he left you on read?” monoma was currently sat on your couch, his blonde hair was lying on his head like a mop and he still had his hero costume on, if he was caught in the wrong district at night, people would most definitely get the wrong idea about him.

“can you at least pretend to be interested?! i’m pouring my heart out here and you’re just making me feel like my conversation with him didn’t matter!” you shouted from the kitchen, your habit of baking whenever you were stressed was currently coming into play as you used one arm to stir the bowl of cookie dough together.

“i mean.. i think you’re being a bit dramatic. all he did was talk to you. that’s literally what any normal person would do.” he spread himself out on your couch, lying down as if he paid the bills.

“whatever, just say you hate to see me happy.” he heard the ding that signaled that the oven was ready from where he was reclined.

a knock was heard on your door, and you could hearing monoma groan as he lifted himself up off the couch, going to answer your door.

“what?” monoma said as he grabbed the door handle, hoping the person on the other side could hear him. he’d nearly shut it when he saw who was outside your residence.

“who is it, neito?!” you yelled from the kitchen, your visitors being able to hear your voice.

“just some solicitors! don’t worry, i’ll tell them to get lost.” he smiled, his pearly white teeth on display for the group to see.

they’d pushed their way past him, inhaling the scent of cookies baking as they took in your residence in all its’ glory.

japan didn’t have many gated communities, so for you to have lived in one was something rare. each house was about two stories, and for you to afford it on a streamers’ salary was insane.

“how the hell do you afford this by playing video games?!” bakugou spoke, breaking the silence that enveloped your home.

from where you stood in your kitchen, you couldn’t see who had entered until you heard his voice coming through your ears.

you’d quickly come outside, setting your timer as you very obviously ran outside, almost tripping over your feet as you straightened yourself up.

“hello everyone!” you smiled, a slight blush on your cheeks as you looked at bakugou.

“hey! we brought you some medicine for that wrist of yours. got it straight from a friend who specializes in medicine.” kirishima smiled wide, holding up a bag in one hand.

you’d grabbed it, mumbling a quick oh thank you as you stood there.

“so um, this is kinda rude but. what are you guys doing here?” you asked as they looked at you.

“well baku-.” kirishima began as bakugou subtly nudged him.

“oh. well we wanted to come see if you’d wanted to watch a movie with us.” he spoke, giving his friend a knowing grin as the latter glared at him.

“sure! i’ve got cookies baking and you guys can set up in the living room. neito will help you.” you smiled, and the group made its’ way to your array of couches.

tonight was going to be fun.

i hate this

tags!: @sukunasbottomlefteyeball @kanvis @brbwritingfanfic @pixiesluver