#it’s a fucking endless pit get you a man who doesn’t give a shit and will tell you not to too

[britcision]

Hey by the way if anyone tries to deny Kabru is a judgy bitch I’ll send you the panels of him calling everyone worthless

Respect his duality he’s a good boy who genuinely wants the best for everyone but also thinks he has to do everything himself despite being the Least Qualified Ever because no one else lives up to his standards

He doesn’t even want to look at monsters but oh well every single other person is a piece of shit let’s go get my friends killed over and over again

He’s interesting BECAUSE he’s not one dimensional Good Pure Boy all the time, he’s a judgy manipulative little shit who will eat monsters if it gets him towards his goals, which are “nobody should be killed by monsters actually” and “i want to know what the fuck is going on”

He coulda had ONE honest conversation with Laios and known literally everything about him, Laios has never met a filter

But Kabru was raised for a good chunk of his life (6-18) by Milsiril, and for all he believes elves can never understand short lived people… he picked up the whole “I must be secretive and always conceal my own motivations”

He only breaks under literally the most intense high pressure situation he’s likely to see in his life, which along with being the potential goddamn apocalypse is also a rehashing of All Of His Personal Trauma oh and also Every Suspicion He Ever Had About This One Guy

He’s not more honest because he’s an honest person, he’s more honest because he forgot how sentences work when he finally caught Laios and doesn’t have the bandwidth to play the constant 4D chess in his head that underpins his EVERY INTERACTION WITH EVERYONE EVER until Marcille takes the lion

Kabru’s a pretty good person, with extremely good motivations and goals.

He’s a manipulative son of a bitch who will do anything, anywhere, anytime, to meet those goals, and spends a solid chunk of his time and energy on reading people so he can be someone they like… regardless of his own feelings.

He’s the living The Good Of The Many Outweigh The Needs Of The Few, and solidly puts himself in with ���the few” by doing shit he hates because he thinks it’ll help.

Isn’t that more interesting than “oh he would never manipulate anyone, he’s so nice and good all the time”?

[wakeup01]

Theft Of A Bro

Uffh. Yeah, that’s good. Just like I thought…tight. We’ll see how long that lasts. No need to talk bro, I know what you want to say. You’re sorry for reacting that way, that me being gay shouldn’t have changed anything. That you shouldn’t have used that slur, or called me a bitch.

Hindsight is 20/20 though, especially when you’re getting fucked by a bro who’s stealing your muscles. Dude, don’t look away. Look me in the eyes, I want you to watch your legs dangle hopelessly above you as I take your masculinity. Take the body you worked so hard for. And I want to see your expression when you begin to love it.

I can already see your arms deflating down there, becoming dainty twigs. You won’t be able to lift a thing with those. That’s okay bro, you can give that bulk to me. I’ll put it to good use. Fuck. See them balloon, so fucking good man. Rrrrww! My biceps feel so much stronger, check out these guns. Check out YOUR guns on my body. Haha. What? Come on bro, you can forgive me for a bit of flexing. Okay maybe a lot of flexing, but I can’t help it. You were always such a egocentric showoff - puffing out your chest like a territorial beast. A textbook, self obsessed fuckboy, now I understand why.

And just look at my expanding pecs. So fucking thick and juicy. Bouncing in time with my th—thrusts! Those used to be yours. You always hated how guys used to eye them up, but now you’ll be the one salivating at them. No need to try and deny it my dude, soon enough your body will have new…needs. Wow bro, you’re already looking real flat down there. Those endless hours spent at the gym to boost your fragile ego, only for me to steal it within seconds. All that definition just fading into your tiny, slimming stomach. Those grab-able hips. Fuck, me on the other hand, I’ve never felt stronger. You could break rocks on here! I’ll take good care of these abs, they look better on me anyway.

Aww, your square jaw is rounding out to a cute little pouty face. Squirm all you want. You look so adorable when trying to seem angry bro. Hard to take you seriously when you’re blushing so intensely. You did always tease my boyish features and now my head is like chiselled marble. And you? That button nose and those freckles, guys are just gonna love you. Say goodbye to being a manly jock. Hello twinky boitoi! I think your waist is now thinner than your girlfriend… or is that ex girlfriend now? That’s a body designed to be fucked brah. So just let me fuck it. Take it like a BITCH! Like the BITCH you thought I was.

Uff. I can feel my cock expanding inside you. The veins pulsing, flowing with blood. Can you feel it too bitch? Yeah, by your expression I know you can. Stretching your hole wide, filling you to the limit. Feels good, doesn’t it. Don’t look now but your dick is shrinking. I’m stealing all that length, all that girth; pushing mine deeper and deeper inside you. Pounding that prostate. There you go. A tiny nub. My churning balls are dropping lower and swelling as yours shrivel up. Mmmff. Fuck that’s sick bro.

Yeah, it’s okay to moan. Your breathy voice getting higher and higher, as mine gets deeper. Don’t be embarrassed. It’s normal for slutty bitches in heat like you. It’s in your nature. Especially when in the presence of an alpha god like me. Whew, my pits are sweating like mad, just smell that intense musk. Smells just like you used to, bet that fact makes you real hard. Smelling your scent dripping from another man as it’s stolen from you.. Sniff and moan. Sniff, moan and give everything to me.

Holy shit, even your skinny legs are hairless now bro. Just like the rest of your smooth, svelte physique. How does it feel? How does it feel to be the ideal gay bottom slut, the very thing you abhorred.

Why so quiet broski? Oh that’s right, we’re trading that pigheaded ego for an eagerness to please. You had enough confidence to share, so I’m taking it. Taking all of it. Fuck. Yes. Your outspoken nature is draining into me, leaving a timid little mouse in it’s place. A stark difference from that rude, puffed-up dick you prided yourself on being. Even now I bet part of you wants to talk back, be a brat. Hm, but that shy smile betrays what you really are. A well behaved boy who knows his manners. Isn’t that fucking right? Heh, good boy.

Look at me and see what you used to be. Marvel at me, marvel at what you’ve lost. Starstruck at your own well deserved comeuppance. Feel your nub twitch at the sight of the perfect man fucking your jock-hood into nothingness. That strength being sapped away. It makes you feel so small and weak. But you can’t tear your eyes away.

Your head? Sorry bro, I got bored of being the dumb one, so yeah, I’m taking your smarts too. Even if you did waste it and let your cock make most of the decisions. Maybe if you hadn’t held it over me, looked down at me. Well…who’s looking down now? Don’t worry, being air-headed has it’s benefits. That empty look in your eyes, the open drooling mouth. Blissful ignorance. The cute way you’ll get confused at the simplest of things. The ‘ummms’ and ‘huhs’ as you bite your lip and push out your rear. Talking like the complete basic bitch gay you once hated. The constant state of mind melting hornyiness. Dumb as a rock. A complete ditz. You’ll get by doing ‘favours’.

I’m not a jackass though. Not like you were. It’s only fair you get something of mine bro, you can have what’s left of my body fat. Unf. Straight to your rear. Let it plump up your butt to a perfect round bubble. A wobbly shelf. A big bouncy booty. Woof. Yeah just like that. The perfect entrance to your endlessly usable fuck hole. Damn, it’s tight. Let’s conquer it.

Bruh, your masculinity is truly delicious, surrender the rest up to me. To my new hulking, godlike form. Purge every trace of manliness from your puny effeminate body with abject glee. Lisp, smile and giggle like a silly little girl. Like the Femboy you were destined to become.

Like a BITCH.

Say again? Bthweed? Oh, you want me to BREED you. Way ahead of you bro. When I cum with my monster cock, your pretty little head will become stuffed with thick, cummy cotton candy. And bro, it’s never gonna clear up again. I have a new adorable outfit already picked out for you. Thigh high socks, booty shorts, a tiny thong and a nice thick collar with your name on the tag. BITCH.

I’m gonna enjoy parading you out in front of all our fraternity bros. You’ll pretend to be all timid and ashamed but I’ll know you’re actually loving the sense of humiliation. Loving your new place as my emasculated gay fucktoy. If you beg enough I might even let the rest of the frat borrow you. I’ll be sure to let ‘your’ girl know that you were a good hole after being passed around. Maybe she’ll even give you tips, you’ll be besties in no time.

Hm? That’s ‘thank you sir’ to you. That’s better. Let’s be clear, we’re not ‘bros’ anymore. I’m a fuckmachine and you’re a glorified fleshlight. We need to make sure you don’t forget your role. A simple tag will suffice. I’ll even let you choose where your ‘BITCH’ tattoo goes. Forehead or rear, it’s up to you. Yeah boi, I think it’ll look good there too.

Now open wide BITCH and be ready to swallow. I’m about to fucking blow.

———-

Whew! That was a good fuck. Clean up boy, the other bros will be here soon and I…woah. Damn, I feel lightheaded. It’s like my brain is overstuffed. With…stuff. And my cock, uughhh. It won’t soften. Maybe I took a bit too much from you, but fuck, I couldn’t help myself. You deserved it after all. But bruh, I need to lift! Huhuh! Oh shit. I don’t want to be exactly like you were! But dude. Like bruh! My head! Gotta lift! Gotta flex! Gotta get to the gym and be the blockheaded fuckboy muscle jock this body deserves!

Pass me your old jockstrap, yerhh, my huge cock gonna do the thinking for the both of us brooo!

[rodolfoparras]

i don’t know if you’re an intox kinda guy butHEAR ME OUT 🙏🙏

old man retired price who’s leg acts up every so often so he can’t fuck as much as he’d like so he gets prescribed some kind of medicinal weed to help his muscles relax and hey! it also means his libido is much much higher and he can last longer which means he’s riding you until you’re milked dry and his pussy is leaking with your cum, helping him slide up and down easier because you got tired a whiiile ago,, maybe if he’s feeling generous he’ll let you take a hit as well!!

Okay but old man price who gets high with you whenever his leg acts up at first he was reluctant to try since he’s just too old for all of that but one day when the pain refuses to go away he takes a hit of your blunt, feeling the tension bleed out his body with each second that passes, for a moment he lays basking in the bliss of being completely painfree all while you shower him in kisses, gentle hands wandering all over his body, suddenly hunger starts to bubble in the pit of his gut one he rarely encounters and you’re not even prepared when he smashes your lips together, gasps escaping your lips as his tongue slips inside, tracing along every nook and cranny leaving you absolutely breathless in his arm “fuck John what was that?” You say when you finally pull away, eyes wide and cock painfully straining against your pants, looking at the man who seems just as wrecked with his cheeks all red and hair mussed, and a wet spot prominently showing through the thin material of his pants

Price isn’t usually the talkative type sticking to groans and grunts unless you coax small sentence out of him but with weed in his bloodstream he isn’t shy to say what he needs, even managing to get down on all four ass in the air head in the pillow, cheeks spread apart to show you his puckered hole begging pleading for you to “fuck me sir please please need your cock,” doesn’t give a single shit about how he sounds all he cares is how good it feels to have your fat cock buried inside and he’s so fucking greedy won’t let you set the pace fucks himself back onto your dick even though his joint aches looking like a whole fucking meal with his soft ass stomach and arms jiggling with every thrust, head thrown back and letting endless roll of his tongue telling you how much he loves your cock how good it feels to be fucked, begging pleading daddy just to give him more, uncaring about how he sounds to someone else’s ear only caring about cumming all over your dick

[fernandopiastri28]

i bet on losing dogs

Toro Rosso, Red Bull, Renault, McLaren, Racing Bulls. Each one just doesn't fit for Daniel. It doesn't matter how hard he tries- he finds himself in an endless pit of a lack of self worth and doubt. After losing his McLaren seat to Oscar for the 2023 season- he believed that would be it for his f1 career. Until the divine intervention of each and every occurence of Nyck's rookie year landed him a spot at Alpha Tauri. Now, it was just a matter of time until he fucked that up to.

orginally posted to my ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fernandopiastri28/works

Shit shit shit.

The car feels so fucking bad, all janky and undrivable around the 34 year old’s worn out body. No matter how hard Daniel tries to focus on trying to keep the car from crashing into the wall, understeer is getting the best of him and he feels control slipping away further from him.

It's pure betrayal. The racing bulls had been so good in preseason testing, him and Yuki had been getting podium placements throughout- now he’s barely managing to take p17, swiftly avoiding DNFs. Of all races for this to be happening, it's in his own home race. He has thousands of devoted Australian fans out in the crowd watching him, watching him screw up and bring shame to his own country.

Yet, it hardly even feels like his home race. Ever since Oscar joined the year prior- essentially ‘taking’ his seat from underneath him, Oscar is the Australian in formula 1. Daniel is just the smiley guy who ‘deserves’ a seat, until he gets one and suddenly Liam deserves it more instead.

He doesn’t hear the end of it, blaring over and over in his ears that he’s ‘washed up’ and ‘undeserving’ of a spot. It’s such a drastic flip on the narrative he’d been force fed ever since his end of contract with McLaren had been announced at the end of 2021, that he ‘deserved the second seat at Redbull more than Checo’, that Oscar would be a ‘hopeless addition to the sport’, that he would ‘fail drastically,’. But due to how sheerly impressive oscars rookie year was, that ideal had been quickly discarded and the pure want for ricciardo in the sport was beginning to fade.

He’d spent the first time in a while feeling wanted when that was all going on. People from all over the world who loved the sport flocked together to support him- lest it was at the expense of a young talent entering the sport- a kid that Daniel was supposed to protect and support. He did so, showing Oscar the utmost respect and encouragement whenever seemed fitting.

It had been particularly impressive when the boy had scored his maiden formula 1 points at this very track only the year before, and now he was looking well onto securing a third podium position for his career. God, Daniel hadn’t gotten his first podium until his fourth year in f1 in 2014- at 25 years old then, he was looking far less impressive than the younger Australian.

His radio crackles in his ear, his engineer murmuring about how his former teammate and current world champion, Max Verstappen, had been forced to withdraw from the race three laps in. Daniel hissed into where his helmet squeezed against his chin, if even Max couldn’t complete this race- how would he?

The following laps were agonising, not a single overtake was performed or even attempted by the curly haired man. With Max retiring hardly into the race, Hamilton following with a power unit failure, and Russell crashing on turn 6 in the final lap, he already had three drivers below him. Poor Sargeant had had his seat taken away during fp2 after Alex crashed out his own car, the American being forced to give up his race weekend for his teammate. That was formula 1 though, giving up your spot- your hard worked for and deserved place in the sport- because you do what you’re told. Because of his complete lack of appearance, there were only 19 drivers to start with at the beginning of the race.

Both Kick Saubers and Alpines are behind him, Gasly creeping up onto his car’s rear. His current p12 grid placement is hardly impressive for a driver who had the potential to be a world champion only a few years prior.

Maybe if he’d stayed at Red Bull.

He pulls his car to a halt, his boney fingers wrapping around the sweat crusted handles of his steering wheel. His joints click awkwardly as he removes his hands from inside the car, too tense from the race. He tugs at his gloves, bunching them up into the palm of his right hand. Once he's out of the RB, he heads over to get weighed post race, his silver red bull emblazoned helmet in his opposing hands to his gloves.

He sees Yuki celebrating the four points he’s earned for the team, his old teammate Lando with race winner Carlos Sainz- the pair’s second double podium together- Oscar bringing spirit and celebration to the awaiting and patriotic crowd, the name ‘Piastri’ chanted throughout the rows and rows of grandstands.

Not a single murmur for Ricciardo.

The jealousy is still there, the weight of pressure and disappointment weighing down on his forever weakening body- still not quite the man he was before McLaren. The younger boy is relishing in the glory of his home race, all the attention he usually despises, while Daniel forces a weak smile, somewhat proud of what Oscar has to come for him, what he’ll achieve that Daniel couldn’t.

Daniel queues up behind Fernando to be weighed, scratching at the scruff of facial hair decorating over his cheek as he waits for his turn. He looks upward, ignoring the number on the scale that almost taunts him. Once that's done, he heads over to the media paddock, trying to get over and done with any painful interviews and questions he’s bound to receive.

He passes by Max, giving the man who had once raced alongside him a comforting pat on the back. The dutch hardly looks up at him, his sharp blue eyes softening as they look into warm honey brown ones, his bitten and bloody lips twisting up into a halfway smile from a grimace. “You were good, Daniel,” Max’s accent is thick and almost gluey, twinged with anger and disappointment. It’s the highest of compliments from the rawest talent on the grid currently, but Daniel can’t help but notice the weight of pity behind his words.

“You too,” Daniel squeezes over his friend's shoulder, watching his resolve fade slightly at the first sense of comfort since his retirement over an hour ago. The two men stay there in solace for a few moments despite the hectic surroundings enclosing them. It’s a part of the sport- learning how to find peace when there isn’t a single calm moment from the moment you enter racing, and it even continues years after you leave.

“Interviews,” Max’s voice interjects Daniel’s thoughts, his attention being brought to reality means he realises that Max is now standing up, hovering over Daniel just ever so slightly with a mere inch between the two of them. Daniel looks to the side where there’s a clump of drivers mingling in the media pen, microphones and cameras shoved into their sweaty faces, capturing their worn out expressions.

“Interviews,” He nods, wiping a hand over the back of his neck, sweat gathering in the gaps between his fingers. He smears it off down against his fireproofs before hooking two fingers around where the tight fabric wraps around his thick neck, pulling it out to regain the ability to properly breath. Max smushes his close cropped hair down under a navy blue cap just as a female interviewer ropes him into a conversation, Daniel left to his own devices.

He plasters his signature grin over his face as an interviewer, hardly looking old enough to be out of school yet, approaches him. His face muscles twitch and struggle to keep that phoney smile as he reflects back on the events of the disappointing home race. By the end, he feels weak and empty, letting the false cheerful expression slip back to a neutral cover up of harsh self critique. In order to mask his dissolving ‘happiness’, he directs the straw of his drink to his mouth, suckling on the scarce remaining drops inside the metal bottle.

When he’s alone once again, Daniel cards a hand through his once full head of thick curls, grimacing at the noticeable thinning of it. A mix of stress and lack of taking care of himself has led to this, all self inflicted. He smooths it back down, trying to get rid of the almost static look it had gained from the slightly fiddling.

As he’s making his way through the paddock, head down and inside of his cheek roughened by the scraping of teeth, he feels a hand against the small of his back. It belongs to the short Japanese driver he drives alongside, often now against recently. “Sorry mate,” The younger pilot gives him a curt smile, “I think you don’t deserve that,” He gives a sympathetic look which Daniel shrugs off, politely and half heartedly.

“Ah, it happens. Not every race can be a podium,” Daniel shakes his head, a million thoughts contrasting those very words swelling up inside his overworked mind. He doesn’t believe what he’s saying, and it doesn’t look like Yuki does either- meeting him with an expression of confusion, eyebrows strung tight together and lips slightly pursed.

“Not the race…” The Japanese man itches at the short black hair on the back of his neck. “About Liam,” He frowns, walking off as he leaves Daniel to unpuzzle his cryptic and vague words. Sure, Liam had filled in for Daniel after a collision with Oscar that had left him injured mid last year, but that was hardly relevant at a moment like this.

He reached the RB garage, heading inside to where his belongings remained from before the race. He checks his phone, messages from his mother, Heidi and Scotty sitting unread on his lock screen. The top notification however is from the F1 app- the names ‘Helmut Marko’, ‘Daniel Ricciardo’, and ‘Liam Lawson’ twist in between all the different ways to say replace.

Oh god.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He opens his phone, scrolling through the brief article. According to it, he has two races to show his potential and prove that he deserves the racing bulls seat until his contract will break and be given to the 21 year old driver from New Zealand. He has Japan and China to show that he deserves this, notoriously two tracks that aren’t easy for him as a driver, nor for the team. He’d won in China in 2018 by the skin on his teeth, barely making it through to the end. To be able to do that again, or even just get a mildly impressive result seemed like a far fetched dream.

He slides down against the wall, his knees tucking up to his chest as he reads through the article again. And again. And again. He reads it over and over until he’s sure he could repeat it from heart, then reads it again. Surely he’s reading it wrong- it had to be fake news. But if that’s true, what on earth did Yuki mean about the ‘Liam thing’? He swipes off the website, searching his name followed by Liam’s into his search bar and clicking on the first link that appears. Different wording, the same exact content. ‘Replaced if Ricciardo’s performance doesn’t improve,’.

His head drops into his hand, strangled and choked back tears spilling into his knuckles as his hand tenses into a fist. He sounds like an idiot, crying on the floor of a garage when he’s sure fans could likely hear him if they were close enough. He’s a disappointment once again, just like he’d been in 2021 at McLaren, just like he’d been at Renault, just like he’d been in his last year at Red Bull. He’s mastered the art of letting everyone around him down, and they’ve perfected not putting faith into him.

As salty tears spill down his tanned cheeks, an arm wraps around his torso, squeezing him into the other person as a head finds its way to settle into the junction of his neck and shoulder. “It’s okay, Daniel,” That all too familiar Dutch accent, the way the voice pronounces his name like ‘Dan-Yell’. “You did it once, you’ll come back,” Max’s breath is hot against where Daniel’s fireproof shirt is scratching into his skin, the all enclosing tight fabric squeezing him into physical numbness.

“I won’t,” Daniel shakes his head, embarrassed by the fact that someone almost 8 years younger than him is being the one to be mature and comforting. Far from the angsty teenage boy who’d stepped into that red bull at 17 almost a decade ago. He was a better driver than Daniel back then, and he still is now, also now a better person. “No one thinks I belong here,” He intentionally deepens his voice, painstakingly aware of how unintentionally vulnerable he’s being

“I believe you do, isn’t that enough?” That gets Daniel to look up from his wrist, meeting those ocean blue eyes he’s encountered too many times when Max has been in his very own position and Daniel’s been in his. He rubs his nose against the sleeve of his race suit that's otherwise been resting on the concrete floor next to him. “I think you’re a superior driver to me,” Max gives him a tight smile, not receiving once in response.

“We both know that’s not true,” Daniel looks back down at the floor in front of himself, his arms crossed over his knees. Max gingerly rests a hand over one of Daniels, one of his fingers prodding into the dorsal side of Daniel’s limp fist.

“You don’t know that,” He murmurs, both men now looking away from each other's eyes and focusing on where their hands are barely intertwined. “You’ve got years of experience over me, more teams and teammates. You’re funnier than me, and you’ve got that 'Daniel Ricciardo' smile.” He grins, finally getting one out of Daniel this time, a genuine one too.

“Pretty easy when you are Daniel Ricciardo,” He knows that’s not what Max means by it. Max rolls his eyes, nudging his elbow into the older man’s chest.

“I’ll always root for you Dan, you know that,” The promise is appreciated, but Daniel struggles to find comfort in it when Max is the only person who does. He no longer even finds the ability to believe in someone who will always lose.

[levicanpunchme]

AAAAAA I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCHHHH SYEGHQYEHW can i request something where the reader tries to persuade levi to take a break from his paperwork?? aaaaaaa i literally love u some much jagduwyshdsj thank you<3333

AAAAAA, I LOVE YOUUUUU 🙈 thank you so much for the kind words 🥺 I’m sorry this took a while but it’s finally here~! And thank you for requesting babe <333

——————————————————————

Levi X Y/N

Genre: Romance/Fluff/Angst

Sharing Your Exhaustion

The hallways were eerily quiet, presumably because the members were drained off after hectic training; they couldn’t help jump into their dreams before they had to head back for more painful training. You took nimble steps towards the captain’s room and rushed to open the door, knots forming in your stomach in bustling excitement. Yesterday, Levi was so busy with paperwork, you had chose not to visit him, not wanting to disturb him. There were days when you had to ignore your feelings because you were in a relationship with none other than Captain Levi, the strongest solider who shouldered the burden of humanity’s right to existence.

As you stepped in, you realised the room was lighted up, which was foreign because by this time, Levi would be waiting for you in bed with lights off. Your gaze sauntered from the empty bed to the wooden desk next to the window and caught sight of your raven haired boyfriend, seated before his desk with a pencil in his grip as he sharply wrote something down. You frowned, staring at the clock for reconfirmation.

It was one am. By this time, Levi would have tidied up his messy desk, taken a shower and waited for you to come over-sometimes even making personal trips to your room to get you.

You lightly shut the door behind you, taking light steps towards your hardworking boyfriend. Despite making zero to no sound, you caught his attention immediately as if he sensed you around; his bleak eyes seemed to warm up like the moonlight, his thin lips morphing into a tiring smile.

“How was training?” His gentle voice already calmed your nerves. “Tiring,” you muttered with a generous smile and made your way to his chair.

“Tch, don’t work so hard, brat,” he gruffly muttered, his voice etched with concern.

Nearing him, you noticed the blue lines of fatigue on his pale skin carved under his eyes, his forehead creased from tension, posture seemingly uncomfortable with his back positioned away from the chair, probably from leaning down to observe papers. An awful feeling arose in the pit of your stomach. Your judgment stood corrected as you observed the stack of parchments bundled on the side of his table. Just looking at it gave you a headache.

You instinctively stepped closer behind his chair and snaked your arms around his neck tightly, recompensing for the time away from him. The smell of him on the shirt you were wearing was nothing compared to his actual embrace. The shower you had taken before had helped your nerves ease after practise but Levi’s embrace completely sucked every last drop of ache out of your body.

A breathy sigh escaped his mouth as he eased into your hold, his breathing calm against your frame. For a moment, it was only you and Levi in your own bubble; nothing else existed. Two aching souls finding peace in one another. And then a moment later, the bubble bursted.

“Y/n, turn the lights off and get some sleep. I’ll need to stay working,” he put his hand over yours which were resting on his chest and nudged his head against yours, encouraging you to go to bed.

You frowned, your chest tightening.

Ever since the commander’s announcement for a new mission outside the walls, the workload was piquing- especially for the captains. The pile of documents needing Levi’s attention were still toppling his desk and he hadn’t even moved an inch from the worktable since before yesterday night. You didn’t see him at practise, lunch, dinner or even in the meeting with Hange. He seemed to have disconnected entirely from human interaction, determined to get his work done.

“Levi, you’ve been here since the whole day,” you muttered, expressing your discern with a frown. Your arms only grew tighter around him worriedly.

He shook his head, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “It’ll take me one more night and I’ll be done.” You peeled yourself away from him and stared at the man with desperation. You had come to a realisation that Levi coped in different ways in tense times. When the atmosphere became grim, he spent days drowning himself with papers and refused to take breaks- as if he was punishing himself. Even when he came back from expeditions, you wouldn’t see his face until a week after. He stared at words for so long that they probably haunted him.

“Levi, you’re overworking yourself to the bone. You need sleep,” you argued, scowling at the lack of concern in his narrow eyes.

“I’m perfectly fine, don’t worry. Now, go and get some sleep. You must be exhausted,” his words were stern, commanding you and his gaze indifferent, holding no room for debate. His eyes remained cold but you could tell he felt apologetic as he softly caressed your cheek with his palm, stroking them. He limply smiled, then nodded at you and motioned towards the bed, implying you leave him alone.

You stared at him distraught. How could Levi expect you to turn away and conveniently slip into bed while his red-rimmed eyes were starving for rest as he pushed himself more and more? Again an unsettling feeling arose in your chest; even his fingers were inflamed from gripping the pencil for too long; he rubbed the back of his neck occasionally which meant he had been craning it for too long to read the goddamn papers.

Your fists clenched in despair as you bit back the curses you wanting to ensue; dating a workaholic man with zero awareness was a pain in the ass. You sighed sympathetically at the man you loved and then stepped closer to the desk, in front of him. You grabbed one large pile of his documents and brought them with you to the bed.

“Hey-hey! What’re you doing?” He immediately sprung out of his chair, and it made you want to cackle because it was probably the first time his leg muscles contracted since he sat down with these documents on that damned chair.

“I’ll help,” you explained as you sat cross legged on the cold sheets of his bed, picking up the first stapled document.

“No,” he rasped. “You are doing no such thing. Get to bed, right now,” it wasn’t a suggestion but a chilling command; Levi’s tone was dangerously low, making your stomach knot up with nervousness.

You glanced up and regretted it immediately because it magnified your anxiety: his misty eyes were staring down at you scornfully, burning your skin; his chest heaved impatiently and his fists were clenched like he would pounce at you any second.

“Levi—“

“Every-fucking-one is beaten after today’s practise, I know that. Just because I wasn’t there, it doesn’t mean I don’t know shit. Hange informed me about your pathetically long training,” Levi’s voice was oddly rough but the coldness in his eyes melted. His face was scrunched in distress.

You loved this man so much with every part of you. How could he be worrying over you when he was literally starving and sleepless from the work pressure? Your nose burned, and you felt your eyes welling up, with overwhelming emotions, but you didn’t let him see that or he’d lose his sanity and flip the world over to know exactly the reason behind your tears.

You stepped out of the bed and walked close to him, edging to him until his nose was brushing yours conveniently since you both were the same height. At close proximity, his almond shaped eyes were tired-red and sully but there was also a strange glint of warmth in the dull grey clouds, reflecting the effect you have on him. His breathing was unsteady as he stared directly at you.

“If you’re too exhausted, we can share the exhaustion just like we share love, Levi,” you whispered, your lips meeting the corner of his mouth and landing it with a kiss. Jitters ran down his spine and his mouth tingled.

We can share exhaustion just like we share love. The words reverberated again and again in his head, tugging at the strings of his heart. At that moment, he wished to throw you into his bed and kiss your exhaustion away. He forcefully stepped back, his insides twisting in misery, desperate to have his way with you. You were always so understanding. Levi could never wrap his head around how you were so transparent and loving. You stood by him in miserable times, struggling to heal his endless wounds. Your selflessness ate at him because in this big, relentless world, he only wanted you to be selfish.

“I’ll arrange these documents, so you’ll know which ones merely require signatures and which need proper attention. It’ll decrease your workload and reading time to a great extent.” You were already on the bed, reading through the document with vitality.

He surveyed you for a moment, his heart drumming faster against his chest. “Come on, get going. We have a lot to do.” Levi timorously stepped back, watching you.

You already got to work and started assessing papers and reading through files. You almost threw in the towel by your fifth document but continued working, determined to help him. You mentally praised Levi’s great work ethics, his neat textura script making you smile.

Levi, on the other hand, stood frozen in his tracks; his chest felt strange as he watched you work on his documents. No one had ever done this-not that he ever wanted it. Hell, he was the strongest, most independent man, who never let his guard down which is primarily the reason why people didn’t bother with him. He alone equated to the strength of a thousand army of titans. He created this headstrong image for the world, Levi Ackerman, the hope of humanity, as he filled in gaps of weaknesses left in his trails.

Why did you see him? You knew he could take it, then why didn’t you let him be, like everyone else? Why did you want to shoulder his burdens by sacrificing your peace?

His head began pounding.

Before he saw you today, he was perfectly fine with his negligent ways: he didn’t feel his stomach rumbling from emptiness, his mouth as dry as the desert, his back aching from distress or his eyes stinging from sleeplessness. Now, when he saw you rubbing your red eyes, squinting them to read the documents and massaging your template in soft circles, he recovered his sanity.

As if he regained his humanity, his body which was numb from the moment he sat with those papers, collapsed into a surge of emotions.

He couldn’t bear it.

He treated himself inhumanely. But not you. God no, never you. You didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t treat you the way he treated himself. He’d rather throw himself off a cliff than give you a taste of his pain. Feeling overwhelmed, his vision blurred as he took heavy steps towards you. You looked up from the paper, hearing him moving towards you and your breath ceased.

Silver eyes were shadowy with a thunderous wave of agony, and a deploring frown weighted down his lips as his steps faltered towards you. You immediately stood up, your hackles rising in concern. You had never seen Levi look so defeated and beaten— not even when he came back from outside the walls. Your stomach twisted in despair. Maybe you had hurt him in your attempts to stick beside him. You felt tears choking your vision as you waited for him to throw you out of his room.

He was an inch away when his body fell against you, a squeal leaving your mouth. His arms were clasping around your waist as he pushed his weight down, causing your knees to buckle against the bed and you both fell. He was on top of you, his body completely attached to you like he were a part of you. Your heartbeat escalated as Levi looked at you, his red eyes drunk with exhaustion staring into the depth of your orbs.

Inside your dark eyes, he only saw himself. Only himself. His breathing hardened, mouth watering at the sight. He couldn’t take it anymore, his love for you triumphing over the last shred of common sense left in his brain. Drained and disillusioned, he found solace within you.

He attacked your mouth like a starved beast, every ounce of his being wanting you to feel the love bustling in his veins. Your toes curled in pleasure, the warmth of his mouth creating an euphoric sense of stability in your soul. You gripped his hair softly, running your fingers through his scalp and his eyes screwed shut in comfort. His lips kissed to your jawline and in the crevice of your neck, trailing downwards, marking your skin as his.

Your moans and his heavy breaths filled up the silence in the room.

“I love you,” he whispered and you swear you felt a wet droplet fall against your skin. Your stomach clenched; It was his first time telling you he loved you. You tried saying it back but no words left your mouth, just a stream of sobs.

Before, you felt him love you through his own unintentional ways but nothing could counter these three words falling off his lips just for you.

And then he rustled against the sheets, laying beside you and pulled you on top of him, your head resting against his chest. His heartbeat vibrating against your frame caused your tense body to ease in his hold. The documents sat on the edge of the bed, neglected. Soon slumber overpowered both Levi and your senses. Even though you both had to wake up within the next-six-hours, It was the best damn sleep Levi had ever gotten.

[tsukiihime]

Heartbreak (Bakugo x Reader, Shinsou x Reader)

Hey everyone! This is my first BNHA piece, something I wrote when I was bored and thought what the hey, I’ll post it! Feedback is appreciated!

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairings: Bakugo x Reader, Shinsou x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of cyberbulling, swearing, breakup, angst, just kind of a sad piece overall?

Next Chapter

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When you started dating the Explosion Hero Dynamight, you knew that you were throwing yourself to the wolves. The media is cruel and the fans even crueller - if they deem you unworthy for their Hero then you’re in for a hell of a time - and not in a good way. But you loved Bakugo - you’ve loved him more than you’ve ever loved anyone, and for two years of your life you’ve been by his side as he  climbs through the Hero charts. 

But recently, the media has been sniffing a little too close to home. Someone has tipped the tabloids off to your existence and ravenous fans have been finding your social media day after day. Your selfies on Instagram are being bombarded with hateful comments on everything ranging from your weight to your skin color to your fashion sense, while your Twitter messages are flooded with paragraph after paragraph full of venom and vitriol. You can no longer take the headlines, the hate, the disgust being dished out at you day and day out. You beg your boyfriend to do something, anything to make the media leave you alone. Which brings you to tonight - in a heated argument with the Hero Dynamight.

“All I’m saying is that if you address the media, if you tell them that I’m your girlfriend, they might back off. I can’t do this anymore Katsuki, I can’t keep waking up and seeing this shit on my feed!” You’re so angry you’re shaking, and it’s pissing you off even more that Bakugo stares at you, unblinking and unfazed, arms crossed in indifference.

“You know I can’t do that. I do that, and my ratings plunge.” Your eyes widen in disbelief as soon as those words leave his mouth, you can’t believe he even said that. 

“Are you serious Katsuki? Is beating Deku and becoming the number one hero really worth more to you than us? Than me?” Tears threatened to spill over at any moment, your fists clenching until your nails left tiny red crescents in your skin. You stared at vermilion eyes refusing to back down, waiting with trembling lips for his answer.

“You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me. I don’t know why you need so much fuckin’ reassurance that you’re different from all those other damn extras.” That sentence sends you from angry to fuckin’ pissed in less than a second. 

You jab at his chest, practically screaming: “Excuse me? When we started dating, I was promised that you’d protect me from everything, including the media. Do you see the shit they say about me Katsuki? What they say about my body, my family, my upbringing? How they call me a slut and a whore because my Instagram has ‘Toshi on it and now I’ve been spotted with you? I can’t even visit my parents because I’m afraid they’ll follow me. I can’t go and see “Toshi because they’ll shit talk me even more! And you sit there and do nothing. Say nothing. All I want is for you to tell them the truth, that we are dating and that we are a couple.” 

Now, it’s Bakugo’s turn to bite back. “And I’m sayin’ my hands are tied. They know I’m with someone, and I lose  fans. Which means, I ain’t gonna beat that damn Deku at the rankings next month.”

“Fuck the rankings Bakugo! Can you get your head out of your ass for a second?! How in the world,” you turn to go to grab your phone, pulling up the latest headline about you on the tabloid’s website, “can you let them say this about me? Don’t you at least care that I’m being attacked on the daily?” Tears fall freely from your eyes now, and Bakugo flinches for a second, but only a second. You laugh in anger, turning away from him. “I already know the answer, Katsuki. You care more about the rankings than me. I’m in the way of your dream if you say I’m with you, so let me remove myself from the equation.” You grab a jacket, an umbrella and your phone, and put on your shoes. “It’s over Katsuki. I’m done. If you won’t say that we’re together, then we shouldn’t be together.” 

You turn to leave, and a part of you hopes that he’ll follow - that he’ll grab you and hold you tight and tell you that he loves you, loves you more than the stupid rankings and that he’ll stand by you no matter what the media says.

But he doesn’t. 

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You walk a couple of blocks to another apartment building, ring the doorbell and wait for the response to come from the other side. A deep voice responds, belonging to someone who had obviously been sleeping. “Who the hell is it?”

“‘Toshi, it’s me.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? It’s raining idiot, get in here.” The doors unlock and you make your way inside. You know this building like the back of your hand, it’s the home of your best friend and your second home. You make your way to his apartment and he’s waiting for you in the hallway - purple hair tousled and messy, body heavy with sleep and dark undereye circles accentuating violet eyes as he scratches the back of his neck. It’s a tic of his, one you know well - he’s nervous.

“A fight huh?” 

“Worse. I broke it off.” Shinsou immediately tenses at the mention of this, and if you weren’t so pissed and hurt by Bakugo you would’ve laughed. 

“Shit...I’m sorry. Come in, tell me all about it.” He steps aside and lets you into his apartment, closing the door as he prepares himself to listen to you complain until the sun rises. He agrees to help you get your things when you’re ready to return, and says you can crash at his place until you find somewhere else to stay.

You return two days later, punching in the code to the apartment you and Bakugo share - well, you supposed shared was the better word. It felt so foreign, being here after everything. Memories of the last two years flooded into your mind - lazy days where you spent all day with Katsuki on the couch doing nothing but watching horrible horror flicks and laughing the night away, those early mornings that had you waking up at five o’clock in the morning to cook pancakes while the sleepy blonde wraps his arms around your waist while teasing your culinary skills. Even the late nights when schoolwork kept you awake well into the twilight hours and your exhausted body dragged itself to the bed you and he shared, breathing in the caramel scent of the man you loved as your head hits the plush pillows and you drift off to sleep. But now, all of those memories have disappeared into the wind, replaced with the fight you and Bakugo had before you had stormed out of the house that night. He’s been texting you like mad, calling you like there is no tomorrow, but you ignore his calls. He never leaves a voicemail, so you don’t know what’s on his mind.  

As the beige door swung open, you breathed a sigh of relief that Katsuki wasn’t home. You had neither the heart nor the energy to see him after all that had happened and instead resolved yourself to get all of your things before his shift ended at his agency. You spent the next hour rounding up everything you owned - books, pictures, everything that you had room to take and that you knew you wouldn’t miss if you left it behind. When you had a breather you sent a quick text to Shinsou to let him know you were almost ready to go - and took a deep breath as you entered your bedroom. No, your former bedroom now. “That’s all it is now.” you remind yourself.

You start dumping all your clothes into trash bags and gather up pictures and toiletries that belong to you as you clean up the bedroom from one end to the other. As you grab a pile and place it on the bed, an article of clothing falls that you don’t recognize. You bend over and pick it up to inspect it closer. 

You know your clothes, all of them. But this lacy lingerie set that is discarded on the floor isn’t yours, hell, it isn’t even your size. Your throat feels like sandpaper and your nose crinkles as you drop the clothes as if burned by a flame. You can’t help but stare at it as a million things run through your mind at once: whose is it? How long has it been here? Was this before or after you and Katsuki broke up? Did he already move on? The last thought is something you know you shouldn’t dwell on, it isn’t your business what he does after you’re the one that ended the relationship. You know this and yet the tears come anyways, endless and stinging without end. Your legs give out and you fall to your knees clutching your heart as sobs fall from your lips, as your emotions bounce all over the place. The molten hot anger you felt at first is now transforming into deep sadness, all the bittersweet memories racing through your mind now replaced by images of Katsuki holding another woman, another lover just like he held you. You can’t stop as your brain formulates these what if situations - what if he was waiting for you to end it so he could be with her? You start to imagine him kissing another with the same passion he held for you. You see another in your place, eating the food that he insists on making to spoil you after a long night of homework, running their fingers through his hair as he falls asleep on their lap, and seeing another wrapped in his arms as they fall asleep together under the moonlit sky.

“I can’t stay here” you whisper to yourself, desperate to stop the tears that won’t end - desperate to feel anything but this pit of agony. You’ll take numbness over this endless heartbreak, this disappointment, this feeling of self-deprecation that tells you over and over that you weren’t good enough. “I-”

The door opens and you hear Shinsou’s voice behind you, calling your name and making his way through the hallway at the front of the apartment. “You didn’t answer my texts so I came up to check on you and-” The purple haired man freezes when he sees you, sitting on the floor with your head in your hands, sobbing uncontrollably as a waterfall of tears spill from your eyes dripping onto your fingers. You can no longer hold back your sobs as everything comes to a head - your insecurities, the hateful comments left on your social media, Katsuki’s own dismissal of your feelings as you two fought that night two days ago. Shinsou immediately drops to his knees in front of you, wrapping his arms around your frame and holding you close. “It’s okay...let it out.” You peer up at him from tear filled eyes, lunging at him to wrap your arms around his neck as you bury your face in his chest. 

“Hitoshi…” is all you’re able to say before another sob wracks your body, tears staining your cheeks and dampening Shinsou’s hoodie. You try desperately to explain why you’re crying, and why you’re so upset but you can’t find the words as your tongue feels heavy like a bunch of bricks. Indigo eyes drift to the underwear discarded behind you, anger seething in his veins as he puts two and two together. 

“Bakugo, you fucking tool.” He thinks to himself as he holds you, letting you cry out what you can’t tell him but he knows. He knows you better than anyone, just as you know him better than anyone. He remembers the vibrant little girl he met on the playground all those years ago, who spoke to him without a care even with his “villainous” quirk. He remembers your ecstatic scream as he calls you to let you know that he was able to get into the Hero Course at U.A, and he remembers you celebrating his acceptance at getting into a Hero Agency by getting blackout drunk and waking up with you in snuggled in his arms as you wear his favorite hoodie. He remembers being the one to introduce you to Bakugo at a Hero Ranking after party when you accompanied him as his plus one. He remembers how breathtaking you looked that night - an obsidian dress that hugged your figure closely, long legs accentuated by black stilettos and your plush lips painted in a ruby red hue. He remembers being the man of the hour, the hero Mindjack accompanied by a beauty on his arm, the envy of the venue. He remembers dancing with you, his most beloved childhood friend, his most precious person. He remembers watching you stride to the bar, smiling as you greet the bartender with glee and and he remembers watching you bump into Bakugo as you apologize quickly to the blonde before making your way back to him. He also remembers Bakugo following you to him, prompting him to introduce you to the man who would eventually become your boyfriend.

“If only you hadn’t bumped into him that night”, Shinsou thinks to himself, “Katsuki Bakugo, I’m going to give you a piece of my mind when I see you next.” How helpless he feels watching you cry as your heart shatters into a million pieces, how powerless he feels as he holds you tighter than he’s ever held anyone before. “C’mon, let’s get you home. I’ll take what I can and I’ll get the rest another day.” he smiles as he looks at you, giving you a small grin that he hopes makes you feel a bit better. “Don’t worry, I grabbed your Switch and your laptop, so the lazy girl hours can still happen” you punch him in the shoulder playfully as you wipe tears away on your sleeve, pouting as you roll your eyes at his lazy jokes before he continues, “and I’ll send Bakugo a text on what’s happening. You won’t have to deal with him. I promise.” It doesn’t escape his notice how you tense up when he says Bakugo, but the small smile you give at his joke makes him feel just a bit better. You stand up and press your lips to his forehead, tippy toeing to reach. “Thanks ‘Toshi. I really appreciate it, truly.” 

“Anything for my Animal Crossing buddy.” You cross your arms and give him a questioning look, eliciting a chuckle from the taller male. “I’m jus’ kiddin’. You know I’d do anything for you. And your Switch.” You laugh as you turn to grab your boxes and make your way to the front of the apartment, the lingerie that had shattered your world moments ago momentarily forgotten in the corner of you and Bakugo’s bedroom. “It’s only Bakugo’s now” you remind yourself as you walk out into the living room, “this place belongs to Bakugo only.” You take one last look at your home for the last ten months, and quickly turn on your heels to make your way to the elevator with your entire life packed into a few boxes. A small sense of regret lingers in you, but you quickly shove that aside to stop yourself from crying some more. Shinsou grabs the rest of the boxes left on the table, and places your key to the apartment on the counter next to a picture frame with the glass faced down. He then turns and follows you out the door to his car.

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The next few nights are the hardest - Shinsou’s apartment only has one bedroom, one bathroom and the living room which means you’re on the couch until you find your own place. You’ve known Shinsou since childhood and you wouldn’t mind sharing a bed but you’re so distraught from your discovery in Bakugo’s room that you want to be alone to cry it out if you need to - you already feel like a burden to Shinsou despite his protests against the idea. He’s not home tonight - on patrol around the city as you sit in the living room wrapped in a blanket and wearing his favorite hoodie. You flip through the channels and stumble across the Hero Rankings red carpet. It’s been ages since Hitoshi attended one, becoming more of an “underground hero” and avoiding the spotlight if possible. In fact, the only time he attended one was with you around the time you met Bakugo. You cringe at the thought of him, trying quickly to remove him from your mind. The rational part of your mind wants to change the channel, to watch those documentaries you love so much and wait until Shinsou gets back home but you don’t. Instead, you decide to remain on this channel, watching as heroes come and go on the red carpet with their dates and hear the host gush about each one’s accomplishments. This is torture, you know Bakugo will appear since he’s the number four Hero, you know he’ll be there and yet like a train wreck, you can’t look away. Maybe you’re curious as to what he’s up to, or maybe you want to see if he looks as miserable as you know you do. In any case, you wait with baited breath to see a pair of scarlet eyes and ash blonde hair to satiate your curiosity. A flash of green catches your attention and you see Izuku Midoriya appear on screen in front of you. Deku is the number three Hero and on his arm is his girlfriend Uraraka, another Hero ranked at number seven. You’ve met the both of them at parties you attend with Bakugo - they both received a lot of hate from “fans'' when they announced they were dating, but the love they exuded for each other made the media change their tune really fast. They truly adored one another and didn’t care if their ratings took a dive. You had wished Bakugo would do that for you, but you weren’t a Hero and you didn’t have an impressive quirk, so his agency decided that it would be better for his ratings if he kept you a secret and he agreed. At first, you didn’t mind but the comments on social media and the tabloids made you feel as if he wasn’t yours at all - instead all you felt was that he was ashamed of you. 

Then you see him. You grip the remote so hard it almost hurts, but you keep on looking anyway. There stands the number four Hero Katsuki Bakugo, wearing a red and black suit and looking as he always does - confident to the point of arrogance, a grumpy face that makes him unapproachable, arms crossed in annoyance. The cameras go off flash after flash, and the announcer goes over his stats - how many people he’s saved, his amount of solved cases, so on and so forth. You smile at his ranking, he’s gone from eleven to four in such a short amount of time, and you know he has his determination to thank for that. He works hard, that you can’t deny. 

Then you see her. You recognize her, from the tabloids and the makeup commercials. The Illusion Hero, Maboromicamie. She’s tall, beautiful, and has a gorgeous figure as well as a comfy place ranked as the number ten Hero. Her arm is linked with Bakugo’s, and he has an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close for the photoshoot. The announcer raises their voice in excitement, as a headline appears on your TV: “Dynamight and Maboromicamie an item? Seen together getting close at the awards ceremony!”

You shut off the TV and close your eyes. What were you expecting? Why did you do that? You can’t help the tears that escape, but they do. There you sit, alone in the apartment with the image of those two stuck in your head, burned into your memory. When Shinsou gets home, he says nothing and you’re grateful for it - you know he’s seen the ceremony and he knows you well enough to know that you’ve seen it too. Instead, he showers, lays down next to you, and holds you close as you cry quietly into his arms.

[24hlevi]

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Mikasa Ackermann (Attack On Titan) X Gn!Reader

Genre: Angst, Slight Fluff

Warnings: Language, Talk about Domestic Abuse/Flashback

Summary: After a heated argument, Mikasa ends up hitting Y/n, resulting in them remembering their last relationship that led them to trauma.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: italics mean flashback, so i know i said there would be no forms of abuse on this blog but since it’s not an actual abusive relationship it’s alright, also i would like to say that if the reader has previous relationships that dealt with abuse i will write it but not if it’s a current relationship

To put it simply, you had been through quite a bit of hell in your past. Which had resulted in you having some very traumatic experiences, and led to your trauma to continue growing. When you broke up with your ex, your friends were so happy that you had gotten out of that terrible toxic relationship, but to you it felt like your world broke down. Yes, you knew what your ex did and was doing to you was utterly awful with the amount of hits you would receive, both physically and mentally, but you were still in love with them. It took years until you two broke up, and for years you were stuck in an endless pit of darkness, never being able to escape unless something bad went down and you would be able to slowly crawl out only to fall back down and land right back at square one. 

Then you met Mikasa.

Sure, you had heard about her while you were in the 104th cadet corps. But you hadn’t actually met her nor talked to her once. Mostly because you preferred to stay with your friend group and didn’t like talking to new people. But obviously, your best friend Sasha convinced you to let her introduce you to Mikasa. 

You were confused as to why Sasha offered to help you make new friends, but you let her do it anyway. 

So you met Mikasa while at dinner, sitting next to Sasha, Jean, and Connie while Mikasa, Eren, and Armin were sitting in front of you three. Eren and Jean were glaring at each other, quietly bickering with one another while Armin was trying to convince them to stop but it didn’t work, like always. Sasha and Connie were talking to Mikasa while you spoke every once in a while, hardly eating because you were too busy staring at the extremely beautiful girl in front of you. 

When you were taking a bite of the piece of bread in your hands, still staring at Mikasa, the raven-haired girl looked at you and your eyes widened, realizing you had just been caught staring. You were about to speak when Connie slung one of his arms around your shoulders, “Well would ya look at this, Y/n was caught staring!” 

A crimson red blush covered your cheeks as you elbowed the male in the stomach. “Ow! That fucking hurt, man!” Connie exclaimed, leaning over and putting his head on the table. 

“Y/n, don’t be mean.” Sasha told you with a frown, “You know he’s telling the truth.” She added after, continuing to eat. 

You glared at your friend before looking at Jean, who was still busy arguing with Eren, “Jean! Help me out here, please!” You told him.

“Huh?” Jean turned his head, looking over at you. “What do you need help with?” 

“Y/n was caught staring at Mikasa.” Sasha and Connie said at the same time. 

“You little mothetfu-“ “OH I see, well that’s no surprise.” Jean cut you off before looking at Mikasa, “You see, Y/n doesn’t know how to act around pretty people so they just stare. You’ll get used to it.” 

All you felt was embarrassment as you covered your face with your hands as you mumbled to yourself. “I’m going to kill all three of you.” 

After that very embarrassing way of a first meeting, you still didn’t talk much whenever you were around anyone else except your three friends, but you were slowly opening up more. Well, attempting to at least.

Some may have said that it seemed like you weren’t trying hard enough to get past the trauma that your past relationship had given you, but you knew you were trying your best. 

And for some reason, that was one thing that had drawn Mikasa towards you. 

When the girl walks up to you and Sasha, you both look at her with very different expressions. While Sasha’s was excitement, yours was confusion and before you knew it, Sasha grabbed your hand and looked back at you with a wide smile, leaning towards your ear and whispering, “If you screw this up, you have to deal with Connie, Jean, and I teasing you for the rest of your life.” 

When she pulled away and continued to smile, all you did was look at her with confusion. Sasha patted your head and said bye to Mikasa and you before leaving you two by yourselves. 

You looked over at the girl standing next to you and decided to speak up after a few moments of awkward silence, “So, did you need to talk to me about something?” 

Mikasa looked up from the ground and at you before nodding, “Yes. I was just wondering if you would, uhm, want to be friends, I guess.” 

One of your eyebrows cocked up at her words, not expecting that to be what she wanted to talk about. “Oh. Yeah, sure.” You shrugged, trying to seem like you didn’t care that much when on the inside you were freaking out and you didn’t even know why. 

When you glanced down at her you could see a small smile on her lips, and you knew from that moment that you wanted to see her smile more. Even if it was small, it was enough to show that she was happy. 

Little did you know that smile was going to be one you would fall in love with, as well as the Ackermann herself. 

You had no idea what you were getting yourself into when you became friends with the raven-haired girl, but you were definitely in for one hell of a ride.

The more that you two began to talk, the more you realized that maybe making friends wasn’t that hard as it had been when you were with your ex. 

And soon enough,

you fell in love with the girl. 

“You WHAT?!” Your three best friends stared at you with wide eyes. 

“I think I’m in love with her.” You repeated quietly so only they could hear. “Help me out please.” 

“How do you only think it? You have to know it, first.” Jean responded. “Then, we can help.” 

Sasha and Connie nodded in agreement before Sasha spoke up, “Yeah, you can’t just think it, you have to know for sure.”

 “Yeah, what they said.” Connie replied.

“Okay but how do I know? I don’t know how this shit works, you guys.” You sighed

The three went quiet at your question as they all looked at each other as if they were communicating through their thoughts. Jean looked back at you and told you, “Well uh, you’ll just, know? I guess?”

“None of you have any clue do you?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked at them. 

“Nope.” All three replied while shaking their heads. 

“Great.” You groaned.

“I do have an idea on how you could tell her, though.” Jean said to you with a small smirk on his face. 

You looked back at him with confusion before noticing the smirk on his face, “Oh no, don’t do that smirk, Jean. I know what it means.”

“Awe come on! You should trust me, Y/n! I am your best friend after all.” The taller male wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

“I’m their best friend!” Sasha and Connie exclaimed, both of them going up to you and grabbing onto you. 

“We’ll help you, Y/n. Don’t you worry!” Connie smiled widely at you. 

“And we promise we won’t ruin it!” Sasha added with a smile just as wide. 

You let out a short sigh and nodded, “Alright.”

That was a terrible decision that you chose. You should have known that somehow your best friends would screw it up because they were too excited about you talking to your crush. Yet it turned out not so bad.

“Okay, here’s the plan one more time.” Jean spoke to you, Sasha, and Connie. “Y/n will find Mikasa and ask her to come outside of the HQ to talk to her. Connie, Sasha, and I will be around the corner so we can hear everything but so we can’t be seen by Y/n or Mikasa. Do you remember what you’re going to say, Y/n?” 

“Yeah.” You nodded, giving him a thumbs up.

“Great.” Jean smiled. “Now, let’s get Y/n a girlfriend.” 

It was only a few minutes later when Connie, Jean, and Sasha went outside and left you alone to find Mikasa. “Alright. Let’s do this, I guess.” You mumbled to yourself before starting to walk around. 

You eventually found Mikasa with Armin and as you walked towards them you took a deep breath before stopping in front of them. “Hey guys.”

Both of them turned their heads and looked at you, small smiles appearing on their faces. “Hey, Y/n.” Armin said to you.

You smiled back and looked at Mikasa, “Can I talk to you outside?” 

Mikasa’s expression turned to confusion but she nodded. She looked back at Armin, “I’ll see you later, Armin.” 

Armin nodded his head and smiled at you both before walking away.

“Let’s go.” You said to the girl and you began to walk the way you came that would lead to outside the HQ. 

Mikasa followed you, walking beside you as she may have been glancing over at you from time to time, trying not to make it seem obvious that she was staring at you.

When you walked outside and felt the cool winter breeze hit you, you buttoned up your jacket as you continued to walk until you were in the position Jean told you to be at.

Upon you stopping, Mikasa looked at you, “So, what did you want to talk about?” 

You glanced down at her and tried to remember everything that your friends told you to say, but as soon as you looked at the girl in front of you it all washed away like rain hitting chalk on the sidewalk. “Uh, well, it’s kinda hard to explain.” You forced out a chuckle that sounded completely fake. 

Mikasa had a confused look on her face in response to your words, before she replied shortly with, “Explain it slowly, then.”

“That might make it worse, but okay.” You looked back at her and took a deep breath before speaking again. “So, I know we’ve known each other for quite some time now, and you have quickly become one of my closest friends. Now, what I’m about to say could ruin all of this but at this point I don’t care because I can’t not tell you. From the moment I met you, I thought you weren’t going to be important to me because I only talked to my friends, but I was wrong. Like, really wrong. So, uhm, basically I uh.” You paused for a moment, looking away from her as a hot blush crept up on your cheeks. “I’m in love with you, Mikasa.” 

“Oh my god they said it.” Connie whispered as he stood behind the corner of the wall beside Jean and Sasha. 

“Not the way we planned, though.” Jean whispered back. “This could go good or bad, now.” 

“Shhh, I’m trying to hear.” Sasha shushed them and peeked her head around the corner, her eyes widening when you saw her and she ducked back behind the wall. “You should see Y/n’s face! They’re blushing so much!” She whisper-yelled to the other boys. 

You glared at Sasha who you saw peek around the corner before glancing back at Mikasa who was staring at you, not saying anything. You could feel your anxiety levels rise higher than before as you looked at her, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

You turned on your heel, about to start walking away when Mikasa grabbed your hand, making you stop and look back at her. You quickly noticed the blush on her face when she looked at you and the smile she had before she spoke quietly, “I think I’m in love with you, too.” 

Your anxiety washed away immediately after she said that and you smiled widely at her. You reached your free hand forward and carefully moved a strand of her hair out of her face which resulted in a deeper red showing up on her cheeks. “Can I kiss you?” You asked. 

The girl in front of you nodded slowly, resulting in you giving her a small smile before leaning closer to her. You placed your lips against hers gently, kissing her softly as you felt her relax into your touch before she kissed back. 

“They’re kissing!” Sasha whispered to the two boys whose eyes widened upon hearing her words. 

“Let me see!” Connie peeked his head around the corner and a wide smile fell on his face. “Holy shit they did!”

Jean looked around the corner as well and he smiled, “See, I knew it would go well.”

“What the hell are you brats doing?” Levi stopped behind the trio, looking at them with his arms crossed over his chest. 

The three all screamed out of shock and fell onto the ground, making it so that they would easily be seen by you and Mikasa. 

You and Mikasa pulled away from the kiss when you both heard the screams and as you turned your heads you saw your three best friends on the ground laying next to each other, with Levi standing behind them. “I fucking knew it.” You mumbled under your breath. 

The three friends just smiled at you and Mikasa innocently, acting as if they weren’t listening the whole time but you could tell that Mikasa already knew. 

After that, the plan had succeeded and you had gotten the Ackermann to become your girlfriend. You didn’t exactly know how actual loving relationships were supposed to work, and neither did Mikasa, but it didn’t matter. Why? Because even though neither of you knew how to work an actual healthy relationship, you figured it out in different ways along the way. 

And even though Mikasa wasn’t a woman of many words, she showed her love to you by often giving you gifts shyly, or just by simply spending time with you no matter what you two did. 

You actually felt like you were in love, not just with someone who “loved” you and you not loving them back. The more you and Mikasa were together, the more you fell in love with her and every little thing she did. Like the way you could feel her lips curve up into a small smile whenever you kissed her, or hearing her giggle when you said something even the slightest bit funny when she was about to fall asleep. You couldn’t help it, you were completely head over heels for Mikasa Ackermann. 

You had thought everything was going fine, minus the extreme amount of stress that you both were dealing with, but you didn’t think that anything bad would happen because of it. 

You were so wrong. 

“Why don’t you listen to me, Y/n?! I’m trying to help you!” Mikasa exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air to emphasize her point. 

“Because you aren’t helping! I am perfectly capable of doing things by myself and I don’t need you hovering over me!” You spat out angrily. 

“I’m not hovering over you, I’m trying to make sure you don’t get yourself killed!” She shot back at you.

“You are always watching my every move, Mikasa! I’m a grown adult and I can do things by myself!” You cried out, getting angrier and angrier as time went on.

“This is just how I am, Y/n! You know I do this with everyone! So why is it so hard for you to listen?!” Mikasa’s voice raised to a yell.

One of your eyebrows raised at her words as you quickly responded, “It’s not just me who doesn’t listen to you! Eren doesn’t listen to you either!” 

“This isn’t about Eren.” Mikasa snapped at you, her eyes slowly filling up with more and more anger as the argument went on.

You could tell that she was getting nearer and closer to fully exploding from her anger, but you continued on, “Oh it isn’t? Well then please, tell me what this is all about. Because to me it seems like you are completely hovering over me with every little thing that I do and it feels like you are mothering me instead of being my girlfriend!”

“I am not mothering you, I am just trying to make sure you don’t get yourself killed! Just because we’re in the Survey Corps doesn’t mean we are invincible! Don’t you understand that?!” Mikasa yelled.

“You think I don’t know that? Obviously I knew we aren’t invincible, Mikasa. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to end up dead somehow because I know what I’m doing! We’ve been doing this for years! I mean hell, just because I wasn’t in the top 10 doesn’t mean I am shit at what we do!” You spat back at her. 

Mikasa shook her head, letting out a sigh, “That’s not what I meant. But even Eren doesn’t go so far that he could end up getting himself killed.”

“You just said this wasn’t about him.” You growled out. “And yes, he does. He does it every fucking time we have to do a misson! And it’s always us who has to pay the price for his actions!”

“That’s not how it is and you know that!” She retorted. “He does what he thinks is best!”

“Why do you even care about him so much?! Aren’t I your s/o?!” You yelled angrily at her. 

“Obviously you are! But it doesn’t mean that I have to just completely ignore him! I still care about him!” Mikasa yelled back. 

“Then why don’t you just go be with Eren!” You finally exploded, not even caring about what you were saying anymore. 

Suddenly you felt a harsh sting on the side of your face and a echoing slap. You stumbled back and immediately grabbed your cheek, eyes wide as you then dropped onto your knees, covering your face with your hands. “Please, don’t. I’m sorry. I really am, I swear.” You said quietly. 

“Are you fucking stupid?! You can’t even do a simple task?!” Your ex shouted at you. 

“No, that’s not what happened, I swear!” You said quickly. 

Shortly after you said that you felt the force of something hitting you and you stumbled backwards, hitting the wall. All you could feel was pain on the left side of your face, and when you heard footsteps coming towards you, you lifted your hands up and covered your face. “Please, don’t do it again. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” 

You heard a ‘tsh’ as your ex grabbed your hands and pulled them away from your face before landing another hit on you, resulting in you shrieking out in pain. You got picked up by the collar of your shirt and your eyes shut, preparing for more hits that were bound to happen. Suddenly, another sharp pain went right through your stomach and you cried out, tears falling down your cheeks. “Please stop, I’m sorry, I swear.” You cried.

“Shut the fuck up!” 

“I’m sorry, please don’t. Please.” You whimpered into your hands. 

Mikasa looked at you with shock and sadness written all across her face, and she sat down on the ground next to you, grabbing onto you and pulling you into her chest. “Please don’t apologize, love. I would never hurt you on purpose.” She whispered to you. The girl gently ran her fingers through your hair as a few tears fell down her cheeks, “I’m so sorry. I should have never put my hands on you out of anger. I’ll never do it again, I promise.” 

You stayed a quiet for a few seconds before you turned your head and looked up at her, “I know you won’t. It’s just that...my last relationship wasn’t good, at all.” You paused for a moment. “It was uhm...very abusive.” You stopped there, not being able to say anymore without most likely breaking down into tears. 

Hearing those words made Mikasa feel even worse about what she had just done without realizing. She had no clue that you had even been in a past relationship, and definitely not an abusive one at that. All that she felt was shame on what she had done, and how much it had probably affected you. And she couldn’t lose you just because her anger went too far past logic and knowing what she was doing. “I’m sorry, Y/n. I didn’t know, but it doesn’t make my wrong doings okay. I’m just...so scared that I might lose you, and I wouldn’t be the same if I lost you somehow. I’m really so sorry.” She spoke barely above a whisper, looking at you with teary eyes and a few stranded tears falling down her face. 

You wiped away her tears away with the pad of your thumb and you gently caressed her skin on her cheek. “It’s okay, darling. I know you would never hurt me on purpose, which is why I forgive you. And please, don’t think you’ll lose me. I would never even dream of leaving you on purpose, so please, don’t think that.” 

Mikasa sent you a small smile before she leaned in and pressed her lips against yours with you immediately kissing back. Another thing you loved about her was how shy her kisses were, but they were still filled with so much love that you knew she would never try to hurt you. 

After a few moments, Mikasa pulled away and rested her forehead on yours. “I love you, Y/n.” She whispered. 

“I love you too, Mikasa.”

[oikawaplssteponme]

Close as Strangers: pt 2

part 1

pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

warnings: swearing, breakup, suggestive content

genre: angst with a happy ending

a/n: hi hi! i cant believe so many of you wanted a part 2 so here it is! you all seem to like how i write for bakugou which means a lot💕!! i once again hurt my own feelings a little bit with this one but it has a better ending than part 1 hehe. enjoy xx

•

Silence is the absence of noise. Sadness is the absence of joy. Fear is the absence of courage. Just because you are quiet at one point, doesn’t mean you will stay quiet forever. Just because you are sad at one point, doesn’t mean you’ll never be happy again. Things can go missing for short periods of time or even long ones but one thing is for sure; they always come back eventually.

You were the absence of Katsuki Bakugou. He was gone. No longer in your vicinity. Every time you saw him, he felt more like a ghost than a person. Lurking around, observing you. You supposed that’s what always happens when you break up with someone. They become a memory that you wish to kept stored and never remember. Just looking at their face can give you a pit in the bottom of your stomach. Breaking up with someone is a weird concept. The person you love most can become the person you never want to see again over night. Especially when things end the way they did between you and Bakugou.

His silence was deafening. It seemed that his silence said more than his shouting or screams ever did. His promises were just as empty. He promise to do better. He promised to make things better. However, he didn’t. You always took Bakugou as a man who stuck to his words. Maybe he stuck to his word more when it didn’t come to you.

You thought that distracting yourself with others would help. You spent a lot of time with Deku. He was a good guy after all and he gave you a lot of attention, which was something you had been missing. The two of you weren’t together though, no matter how badly Izuku wanted otherwise.

~

“Y/N!”

You looked over your shoulder to see Deku rushing towards you with one of his dashing smiles.

“Oh hi...”

He took a seat next to you on the common area couch, putting his arm around you.

“How are you? I didn’t see you much today,” he said. You shrugged.

“I’m alright, just been busy I guess.”

“Oh okay. Well we can hang in my room if you’d like?” suggested Deku. As tempting as sitting in a room filled with All Might posters sounded, you wanted to be alone.

“I actually don’t feel that great so I think I’m just gonna go to sleep,” you explained. You got up from the couch.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You laid flat on your bed, staring at your ceiling. One part of you was telling you to just go to Izuku’s room, the other was telling you to go to Bakugou’s. Both seemed like the wrong answer.

You turned to your side. On top of your desk was a picture frame. The picture was backwards. You flipped the picture frame over and began to open it up.

It was a picture of you and Bakugou. You had fallen asleep on him in his room and he was out cold as well. He had left the door open, prompting his friends to enter his room and observe this softer side of Bakugou. They had snapped a picture, which was the one you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away.

You felt guilty for feeling these feelings. You shouldn’t miss him. Yet here you were, missing the boy who broke your heart beyond repair. What held you back from dating Izuku was that he wasn’t Bakugou.

You set the picture frame down and slipped on a jacket and some shoes. Quietly, you left your room and allowed your feet to take you where they pleased. That inevitably led you to his door.

Your fist hovered maybe a millimeter away from his door. You were so close to knocking, unsure if you wanted him to answer or not. You took a deep breath before placing two small taps on his door.

He was probably asleep. He would probably get mad if you woke him up. You knew you should leave. What happens if he answers? What happens then?

“H-Hi...”

Bakugou’s eyes widened when he recognized that it was you at his doorstep. You were shaking, unsure if it was from nerves or the cold air the swarmed the dorms.

“I’m sorry for bothering you...I-l’ll leave-” you ran from his door so quickly. Your feet led you outside the dorms and to the training ground.

There was a sense of comfort at the training ground. That was probably why you would always come here whenever you were upset. It was like reminiscing in what used to be, and how much you missed it.

“You’re predictable.”

You looked up at Bakugou, who stood in front of you, his hands in his pockets.

“Why’d you follow me?”

“Hey you ran from me. No shit I’d be curious as to why.”

Bakugou held his hand out to you.

“Come on, let’s talk inside.”

~

You sat on Bakugou’s bed. From the months you had been apart, his room hadn’t changed a bit. His desk had a picture frame on it, however it was turned around.

Bakugou took a seat at the edge of his bed, while your back was pressed against his bed frame.

“You wanted to talk. So talk,” you said plainly. Bakugou huffed.

“Why’d you knock on my door?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? Bullshit Y/N.”

“I can’t give you a good answer,” you whispered.

“You don’t get to decide if the answer is good or not. I do, so just spit it out.”

You shook your head.

“God that damn nerd must have a hell of a lot of patience dealing with you...”

“Fuck you.”

“So that’s why you came to my door? Fair enough,” he chuckled. You clenched your fists.

“Deku and I aren’t together,” you shot back. This got a reaction out of him. Bakugou moved closer to you.

“Good, because that nerd doesn’t know you the way I do.”

“You don’t know me at all, since half of the time when we were together you would ignore me.”

Bakugou moved closer again.

“So you’re just gonna scold me for everything I did wrong when we were together?”

“That would take too long.”

“Then why are you here?”

You leaned in to be closer to Bakugou’s face. You looked him dead in the eyes.

“I’m clingy, remember?”

“Hey I apologized for that-”

“You could apologize a million times more but that doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t fix us or what we could’ve been or what we were. You and your apologies are meaningless to me,” you said.

“Meaningless? Really?”

“Really.”

“Well if I’m so meaningless, then why haven’t you left yet? Why are you sitting so pretty on my bed? Legs crossed, eyes wide. I’m not so sure Y/N, something is telling me there’s more to this,” smirked Bakugou. Your stomach clenched.

“Just answer me this.” Bakugou moved to have you pressed against the bed frame again, his hand on the frame next to your head. You gulped.

“Me or him?”

“That’s not-”

“Answer me.”

Bakugou’s breath was hot on your face. You both knew the answer, only you knew it was the wrong one. This interaction with Bakugou was probably more than you two ever spoke in your last week of dating.

“What happens after I answer? Nothing changes,” you said.

“If nothing is gonna change, why are you so hesitant?”

You sighed.

“I want things to change. I want you to change.”

“I’ll change-”

“No you won’t. You say you will but we both know you won’t. The second I leave this room, you and I will be as close as strangers, just as we always were. I gave you second chances but I can’t give you anymore. I can’t give myself that false hope that you’ll do better, because you won’t,” you cried.

Bakugou sat back. His demeanor changed from confident to melancholy.

“I hate seeing you with him. I hate it!”

“Katsuki-“

“You picked him to hurt me, didn’t you? You’re not suppose to be with him. You’re supposed to be with me-”

For once, you wanted silence. The only way you could think to get that desired silence was to shut Bakugou up.

The only way you thought to do that was to kiss him.

Shut him up with the lips he used to beg to kiss. With the clashing of teeth and tongue you both so desperately craved. Your hands held Bakugou’s cheeks as you kissed him. He pulled you towards him. His hands gripped tightly onto your waist as you sat on his lap. Your hands now tangled in his hair. His hands exploring every inch of you that he had missed so much. Oh how he kissed you. Certainly he was doing that better at least.

You and Bakugou had to gasp for air.

“Please Y/N... don’t pick him...”

You looked at Bakugou. He had puppy dog eyes. His lips began to quiver and he quickly buried his face into your chest.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry...”

He continued to mutter these apologies to you. He cried so softly into your chest. You shushed him, rubbing his back to calm him down, kissing the top of his head. He tightened his grip around your waist, holding onto your t-shirt.

“It’s okay baby, it’s okay...”

Bakugou hugged you so tightly. He wasn’t gonna let you slip away again.

“Bakugou look at me,” you ordered. His red eyes looked into yours. You gently wiped away his stray tears.

“I don’t know what you want me to do. Of course I want you. I never stopped wanting you. But I want the version of you that I fell in love with, not the one that broke my heart. And that’s the problem. I don’t know which one I’m going to get.”

Bakugou shook his head.

“Please don’t leave, please don’t leave me. Everyone always leaves so I try to leave first but I won’t this time. I won’t mess up. I can’t bare to see you with anyone else but me...”

“I don’t like it either. I’m trying to move on but it’s really hard...”

“Please I’ll do anything to have you back...absolutely anything...”

“I just need you to do better... and not just promise to do it, I need actions Katsuki...”

“Yes, yes, I’ll do it. I swear. Y/N please...I love you.”

Your eyes widened, then began to shed its own tears. You hugged Bakugou again.

“I love you Bakugou.”

You showered the blond boy with endless kisses, unsure what else to do. You really did love him. That fact never changed.

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

~

The next day, Katsuki Bakugou did better.

•

[general taglist (form in masterlist) : @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @roesaurus @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @complimentaryhugsgirl @marajillana @luluwiie @tanakasprayer @bibly @big-phat-cat @sapphoscolonoscopy ]

[adhdeancas]

Hm, mommy issues anybody? Daddy issues anybody? Yeah. Let’s unpack that a little. Not a lot.

Dean runs his hand up the back of his head, feeling the soft spikes of his haircut. It was a stupid tic he’d picked up in his teens, it usually made girls melt. The sensitive guy, the nervous guy, the guy who’s eager to please. It made him look vulnerable. Girls liked that. He started catching himself on it and stopping when he got into his twenties. 

His phone buzzes. He looks at it quickly, ignoring the stupid clench in his heart that comes with the action.

One New System Update Available: Install Now?

He sighs and turns it off.

---

Long hours in the car are usually… uneventful. Full of all kinds of empty time that frankly? Dean likes. It’s a nice break from the constant weird noises of sketchy motel rooms with paper-thin walls, from the creaking pipes in the bunker. Mostly, it’s a break from thinking about whatever batshit depressing problems they have up their ass that week. 

But this time? The open road is endless, like a really shitty, really boring acid trip. A fucking infinity of his ankle cramping up on the side roads. And Sam always gives him the stink eye when he reaches for his phone, so he can’t even do that. He does make pit stops more often than usual, so he doesn’t crawl out of his own skin, and his glares keep Sam from mentioning it. Maybe he just thinks he’s got the shits. He’ll let him keep thinking that.

At least on the pot he can check his phone.

But time and time again, he lays down a loud paper cover that doesn’t do much to cover up the griminess of the seat and sits down, and unlocks his phone. He waits until he’s fully in the stall to do it, even though he could end the suspense the second he puts Baby in park. Maybe he knows what the answer is gonna be.

What the answer always is.

No New Messages. 

He sighs. Story of his life.

---

Sam snatches his phone next time it buzzes in the cup holder before Dean can even reach for it. Dean opens his mouth to gripe, but his stomach ties itself in a knot anyway. He doesn’t know whether he wants it to be… or whether he’s dreading it. 

“Who is it?” he tries to say it casually. It sounds forced to him, but Sam doesn’t notice. 

“Cas,” he’s got this dopey little smile on his face, and Dean feels his face heat up. For no goddamn reason, it’s not like-

“Why’re you- what’s up? Anything wrong?” Dean knows Sam would’ve said right away if something was wrong, but he wants his brother to spit it out already, and Sam looks like the cat that got the cream. That means he’s about to try to be funny. 

“Nah, nah.” Sam grins again, glancing away from the phone finally. 

“Well then put it down, Nosy, what the fuck,” He’s already seen the text, whatever it is, so it’s no use, but Dean bristles anyway. It’s not like Cas would’ve sent him anything actually embarrassing, right? What was the last thing they were talking about… the best roadside pancakes? Yeah, so, it couldn’t be anything weird. Well, it’s Cas, so it could always be something weird. But nothing incriminating. Hell, Sam’s accidentally opened a nude a girl sent him one time so it’s not like it could be worse than that. Not like Cas is sending him nudes. Dean cracks a grin at the thought of what a thirst trap would look like for Cas. Probably him in a, like, half unbuttoned button up laid out in a library chair. Maybe a book in hand. An angel blade. The weapon! Not-

“He just- he just wanted to update you on where he is in Gilligan’s Island.” There’s a laugh in Sam’s voice, and Dean wants to know why. Probably just the way Cas described it, he always finds this certain way of saying things that’s just… kinda endearing and kinda confusing.

“He’s watching without me? Son of a bitch!” 

Sam smirks. “Yeah, he and Jack. Jack finished Pirates of the Carribean and he wanted more island stuff.”

Dean shakes his head. “Motherfuckers…”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You want me to text him back for you?”

Dean rolls his shoulders out. “It’s fine, I’ll just do it at the next stop.”

They pull into the next gas station and Dean doesn’t look at his phone again until he’s hidden. 

---

Because Sam is a nosy bitch, he asks. Well that, and he’s really tired of the car ride taking twice as long with all the stops they’re making. Dean’s usually a ‘pee in a bottle and don’t pitch a fit’ kind of driver, himself included (Sam’s scarred for life at this point), but now? It’s like they’re traveling with a six year old kid, stopping every hour.

The third stop in Oklahoma alone, he stops Dean. “Okay, do we need to go to the hospital?”

Dean quirks his eyebrows and frowns. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He’s got a clue what they’re talking about.

Sam bitches with his whole face. “We’ve been stopping every four fucking feet for days now, so you’re either dying and we need to go to the ER and get an endoscopy, or-

“An endoscope who?”

Sam doesn’t take the bait. Shocker. “Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes and tries to bypass him. Sam is smarter than he looks. They grab his phone. “Sammy!” This time the word’s annoyed, a warning. Like he used to say right before he really viciously wrestled Sam to the ground and pried the last cookie out of his delicate little hands when they were kids.

Unfortunately, Sam has a height and reach advantage. He holds the phone up and Dean doesn’t have a chance unless- Dean punches him in the stomach. Sam makes a winded noise but manages to keep his arm raised. He glares harder. “You’re gonna talk to me, or you’re not getting this back.”

God, they’re a bitch. “Fine, fuck you. I’ll shit the old fashioned way.” Dean saunters off to the horrifically artificial lights of the gas station, a middle finger waving back just for his little bro. 

 When he gets back, Sam’s looking much more compassionate. It’s worse. “Dean, why are you so obsessed with your phone? What’re you waiting on?”

Dean rolls his eyes and gets in his car, leaving Sam to follow him. “Don’t get your panties in a twist, dude, I’m just making sure I don’t miss any texts from Mom,” He jams the key into the ignition and steps on the gas. Sam’s door snaps the rest of the way shut with the sudden force and they yelp. “Oh, don’t be a drama queen.”

“You’re the dramatic one right now, Dean.” Sam raises his eyebrows, condescension dripping off his expression. “Did she say she’d text soon?”

“Nope.” Dean shrugs. “Just making sure. It’s kinda my fault she died and then came back to life in a world she didn’t understand; least I can do is pick up the damn phone.”

Sam sighs. “Dean, she’s not gonna freak out if you don’t answer right away. Unclench, man.”

“Unclench?” Dean’s hands tighten on the wheel. “Fuck off, Sam, I’m fine!”

There’s a tense silence. Dean finally starts to think he’s given up this stupid argument, but then Sam shifts in his seat. “She’s not Dad, Dean. She’s gonna come back.”

Dean bites the inside of his cheek. “Never said she was. And Dad always came back.”

“Dean-”

“Sam, just drop it, please-”

“I know how hard it is-” 

Dean’s harsh laugh cuts the car into silence again. Sam’s got that kicked puppy look on his face, Dean knows it, and he forces his shoulder to relax before talking. “Look, Sammy, I appreciate it and all but- you have no fucking clue what it’s like for your parent to just fucking… ignore you.”

“I grew up with Dad too, Dean. Hell, he lied to me until I was like 6, he ran out on both of us all the time; I never knew where he was, he never told me where he was going-”

“Yeah, well, he always picked up the phone for you, didn’t he?” Dean lets out a harsh breath and changes lanes just for something to do with his hands. 

“He’d stay out for weeks no matter how much I called-”

“Yeah, but he answered. He answered when you called, when you texted, to tell you when he’d be home or to tell you to fuck off and stop calling, but he’d answer.” Dean wipes at his eyebrow. He doesn’t care about this shit. He doesn’t fucking care. “Dad called me when he wanted to talk to me,” then Dean corrects himself “-when he wanted to tell me something. So excuse me… if I get a little antsy. But you- you don’t get it at all.” Dad and Mom, they both left him. Both ditched him as soon as they could and never looked back. Not until they needed him to hunt something. And he got it, he did. But just because he understood didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed. And just because he was pissed didn’t mean he didn’t want them to call. Expect them or hope them to text, just to check in. Something more than coordinates and a link to a news article. 

He wants someone to care about him. And fuck if that isn’t the saddest thing anybody’s ever heard. 

“Dean…” 

It’s been a full five minutes, and Dean’s been waiting for Sam to bring it back up again, to not let this stupid thing go. “What?” he says sullenly.

Sam holds the phone up so Dean can see the screen without taking his eyes totally off the road. It’s a video, and he sees Cas awkwardly holding the camera away from him, two heads of blonde hair behind him. Sam taps the play arrow. 

“Hello, Dean.” Jack waves behind him with his usual energy, and Cas looks incredibly fond. “I’m here with Jack and your mother-”

“Mary,” Mary corrects. She crosses her arms uncomfortably, but her expression is soft. 

“Mary.” Cas repeats. “I decided to invite her to come by before you and Sam got back- that is, if you’re still coming back today. Sam has been telling me that you’re not going as fast as usual, and while I do appreciate you finally gaining some self-preservation-”

Dean rolls his eyes at the smiling jab. 

“- I do hope you’ll get back tonight. Mary has requested we order pizza and chicken wings, and I got the kind you like- the Mango Habenero, but-”

“No promises they’ll be here tomorrow!” Mary calls out jokingly. Sam’s grinning behind the phone now. 

“Hurry home! I miss you!” Jack adds sincerely.

The camera turns back toward Cas fully for a moment, and he holds it way too close to his face. “Yes. I- We- just stay safe. And stop worrying. And iHop is superior to Waffle House.”

There’s a rustling noise and then the video cuts off. Sam is grinning smugly from the passenger seat. Dean raises his eyebrows. “So you’ve been updating Cas about me?”

Sam shrugs. “We snapchat.”

“You what?”

“I send him pictures of you when you’re looking really constipated.” Sam clarifies unhelpfully. “Cas and I like to think up reasons for why you’re mad this time- avocado toast, streaks on the windshield when you try to wipe it at the gas station, that one piece of hair that does the weird-”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Dean snaps. “Wait, what about my hair?”

Sam laughs. “Just drive, Dean. For the wings.”

Dean frowns and pushes Baby faster. Well… now he doesn’t have to stop so much.

He makes Sam pee in a bottle next time he has to go.

[du0tine]

   ༄𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀༄

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄: 5.3K 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖!

prominent use of bad language. mentions of people hooking up and using drugs but no explicit description, there is no smut in this prologue but are some light suggestive scenes. description of a drug overdose, drug intoxication and hallucinations. mentions of candy flipping: the use of MDMA and LSD combined. main character death and resurrection. graphic imagery. light mentioning of religious anecdotes. 

viewer discretion is advised. 

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

THIS IS THE FIRST PART TO THE PROLOGUE!

at the end of the second prologue you may choose a route that will lead you to one of the four stories with either:

na jaemin, jung jaehyun, wong yukhei or xiao dejun.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@stayinzencity @prettyjaems @hunjins @neonun-au @bumblebeenct @neojaems​ + there may have been more people but i kinda forgot to write them down sorry! lmk if you would like to be added. just let me know which member’s route, you can choose as many as you’d like.

It was all too confined. 

Sweaty bodies aggressively shoving against each other in the mosh pit. People falling from side to side, crushing each other as they flailed their bodies around. The smell of DMT lingered in the air clouding your thoughts ever so slightly, tinging your mind with a light haziness. As the vibrant, disco lights blinded you, making your sight kaleidoscopic. You were seeing double and it didn’t help since it served as the only source of light in this underground club. You were pretty sure that had you not been so painfully sober and not shit faced drunk you would’ve been pressed against the club’s dirty floor next to some girls abandoned, dirty thong with people jumping on top of you, crushing your body.

It was hopeless. You’d lost sight of your friends from the moment you got into this dreaded hole of sweaty bodies, quite literally being engulfed by the ocean of people. Your body felt like a pulp, compressed and sweaty, falling apart at the seams. Even your feet were terribly blistered since your toes began to sink further down, your heels pressing uncomfortably against the leather material. Scanning the crowd, you desperately look for an exit to find the bathroom. Of course, you weren’t expecting it to be any better. There would most likely be people hooking up or doing drugs in the empty stalls but you’d at least expect less people inside and more space to just collect yourself and find your friends since there was no way you could just leave. The lineup was almost an hour long and the bouncer wasn’t going to let you in twice. 

Finally you spot the broken LED sign that held the exit sign. It’s hues sparking above the crowd, omitting an array of bright colours that mostly alternated between red and blue. Overjoyed, you roughly shove people out of your way, getting shoved back a few times in return but overall, the heavy traffic pushed you closer to the exit and finally you were met with a dimly lit, long corridor. It was rather empty except for the few clusters of people either nearly fucking on the spot or passed out on the floor. 

Carefully, navigating your way through the hallway you almost slip on some dark yellow vomit. Your heels squelching against the ground as you mentally cringe feeling disgusted. Nearly yelling out loud at the person who’d thrown up but much to your dismay they were long gone with their face against the floor, eyes shut tight. Roughly dragging the scuff of your shoe against the floor you wipe the putrid substance off before continuing your march through the hallway of hell. 

The further you went, the darker it got and you were starting to think you’d come the wrong way. There was no bathroom. Hell, there wasn’t even an exit; it was just a dingy, dark hallway with absolutely no end. As you continued downwards you start to feel uneasy, almost as if there was someone watching you. With each and every step away from the dance floor you hear the music become more and more faint, the sound of the bass thumping lightly along with the sound of the crowd almost disappearing. Soon enough it became painfully silent, the only noise that bounced against the walls of the corridor were your own and they omitted from the clapping of your heels that clacked against the cold floor.

One, two, three, four steps and you start to hear double. Stopping in place, you’re met with a silence. It’s just you and this hallway you think to yourself before taking a few more steps ahead and then hearing it again. It was definitely the sound of someone’s shoes, ones besides yours. Perhaps, someone was following you? You weren’t sure. In fact, you were just too scared to turn your head around and take a look back mostly because something deep inside you warned you not to look back. Maybe there was something about how anxious this place made you feel. 

As a result, it made your head spin, the vertigo making you feel nauseous as you struggled to even keep marching forwards through this endless abyss of a walkway. 

Nonetheless, you push yourself to keep moving ahead. Forcing yourself to think that the further you went, the faster the bathroom would appear. A doorway that would you lead into a disgusting, nasty as hell bathroom filled with people from the club. This illusion you fed yourself forced you into a sense of false comfort as you tried your best to fight the urge to look back and keep moving. 

Your mission was to reach the bathroom because you knew that you’d be safe then. Despite not even knowing what followed you, you kept your vision dead straight ahead becoming so focused you failed to realize how the walls around you twisted and contorted. The chipped paint started to come alive developing a pulse, beating as if it was alive like flesh inside the body of a human. Something that never saw the light of life until given the opportunity to do so and right now it was tearing itself apart stripping itself, revealing the grimy, almost ghastly white woodwork behind it as its paint wilted at your feet. Hypnotized you kept moving forward as the sound of those dreaded footsteps got closer and closer. 

Clack, clack, clack it rang through your ears. Echoing through your eardrums and spiralling through your mind. The paranoia ate away at your sanity, it replaced all senses of feeling and thinking with fear and ignorance. You ignored how your mind screamed at you to turn back and stop going forward in fear of what lay ahead. Instead you listened to how your body forced you to place one foot right in front of the other and march straight into your doom. 

Finally, you see an exit. A doorway that stands there perfectly still, illuminated around its perimeter with a bright mix of red and blue. You feel yourself fall at ease as you pick up your pace practically racing for the door as you hold a hand out eager to feel the cold, brass doorknob around your sweaty palms. The distance between you and the door close with each step that you take but so does the sound of those dreaded feet behind you. With merely a few inches between you and the door, you feel a gush of hot wind against your neck. Its someones breath. 

It feels like your whole body falls into a frenzy, a complete panicking mess. As you finally grip onto the door knob giving it a rapid turn, twisting it with everything you had within you and yet, nothing. It doesn’t budge. Rather simply it stands there silently mocking you as you tug at the door. Your movements only becoming more violent when you feel someones hand atop your shoulder. Goosebumps erupt across your skin, decorating it like grains of sand, the granules sitting coldly atop your body. It surges through your frame and shoots up your spine as the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in shock. 

“Going somewhere?” Questions the voice as you freeze in place. Your objective of getting the hell out momentarily pausing as you feel eerily intrigued by the voice. Who could it be? The voice was almost incoherent and yet, it held a tone that would perhaps come from a man. The vibrations from its voice made the shivers that stood at the top of your spine come tumbling back down onto your tall bone as you shudder in response. Just who exactly was this? You had to find out. After all, there was no going back now. 

Mustering the very little courage that you had within the pits of your stomach, you tense up. Your muscles restricting themselves making your movements very slow as you take your time turning around. Your eyes glued to the ground, staring at the floor and only just realizing how it jiggled underneath you, almost as if you were standing on top of jello. It’s checkered black and white tiles moving around as you pivot, the toes of your feet sinking in ever so slightly. 

You know you’re facing the figure when you see a pair of sleek, perfectly polished mens dress shoes in front of you. The gloss that radiants from the black shoes almost blind you as you can’t help but momentarily look away staring at your own feet that were beginning to sink deeper into the translucent, gelatine floor. Your heels doing nothing more but piercing into the meaty layer beneath you. 

“My gosh, you’re so fucking high,” Snickers the voice as you snap your head upwards. Contorting your eyebrows in confusion as you quickly retort their observation, “I am not!” 

As the words abruptly leave your mouth you can’t help but feel like you’ve had the wind knocked out of you. In front of you stands a masked man, dressed in a black suit that you could just tell was fabricated with the finest materials and by a crafted tailor no less. The tufts of his hair rotate between the colours of silver, an auburn brown, black and yellow blonde. The mask that adorns his face is plain white, with no slits for eyes nor a mouth leaving you astonished as to how exactly could this masked figure see but you don’t speak the thoughts of your mind. Almost as if you knew that questioning him would lead nowhere. 

Instead you continue to gawk at him with your eyes wide, pupils extremely dilated. Your fruity lips drifted apart as you momentarily forget to breath. Slowly you watch as he brings a hand forward to rest on your cheek. Not even realizing how hot and flustered you were until you feel his cold hand caress your skin. He’s gentle as he continues to observe you. Making you feel like a delicate flower in the grasps of a strong being, one wrong move and you could be crushed. 

“I’m not high,” Are the words that flutter past your lips once more as you stare at him, your thoughts are in a daze. You can’t even think straight as he lets out a laugh. 

“Sure you aren’t. In fact you totally didn’t spend the night candy flipping for nothing, you’ve called upon me and that’s…pretty sweet. The taste of death, reward of the afterlife,” He replies, his fingers leaving your soft cheek and moving towards the locks of your hair as he runs his fingers through them, combing it gently ridding it of its knots.  

“Death? I’m sorry what?” You question as you snap out of your thoughts pushing his hand away from yourself as you look around you. Nothing looked normal, the hallway seemed to replicate one from the inside of a twisted funhouse, except this was all but fun. As the realization of being somewhere that you don’t belong in hits you, you begin to panic. The fear settling in at the pit of your stomach, clouding your thoughts as your surroundings begin to darken. Everything seems to take a turn for worse as the floor beneath you continues to cave in faster and faster. Soon you find yourself knee deep staring in horror at the man in front of you, desperately you reach out your hand begging him to pull you up, to save you. 

“You’re mistaken! I’m not dead, I was just fine. Perfectly sober in fact!” You shriek out absolutely horrified as you grip onto the jacket of his suit. You’re now thigh deep and sinking in faster. Calmly he holds your hand with his before bringing his other hand and placing it atop your head once more. 

“I’m afraid you are dead. Having overdosed in the reckless amount of MDMA and LSD you consumed, eager to reach that ecstasy. That feeling of being in a euphoric state of mind, the bliss coursing through your veins only to be crushed by the mindless bodies of those whom you once danced with, then dragged out by your very own friends. Only to be left alone in the corridor soaked in your vomit.”

Deadpanned, the realization hits you hard. You really were dead and in fact, you’d walked past your very own dead body twice. Astonished and feeling completely drained you look up at the man with sorrowful eyes. This time you don’t speak as you stare at him with oceans in your gaze, the tears seeping from the ducts of your lifeless eyes as they fall down your now stone cold cheeks. You’re now waist deep into the ground as you continue to sink further down with nothing left to say. 

“You’ll have a second shot, if you make things right,” He says before using his body weight and strength to push your body down into the ground with his hand. Eyes widening in shock you scream in horror as he submerges you completely, engulfing your voice in the floor beneath as everything swallows you alive and falls black. 

It feels like you’re floating, your body is essentially weightless as you drift around in the dark mindlessly. You simply exist with no burdens atop your shoulders, no responsibilities and no sins. Your mind is a clean slate and it feels like you’re swimming around, sauntering inside a dark womb. Everything that surrounds you is inexplicable and unknown but it makes itself present. It’s a cold comfort. Perhaps, this is what it’s like to be dead. No hell, no heaven, simply a dark void. A looming and mysterious abyss where you’re overcome by nothing more except peace and eternal silence. 

The silence is short as you suddenly feel a large pressure against your body. An unknown force dawning its mass, crushing you as your senses abruptly flutter awake. You begin to feel more confined, your surroundings no longer providing comfort but working against you. Slowly the unknown force begins to coat your body, covering every nook and cranny with its substance. Rubbing against your skin, grinding with pressure. Its the feeling of small, tiny granules but perhaps millions of them. Though this time it isn’t exactly goosebumps, no longer a natural phenomenon that occurs as a reaction in the human body. Instead, it seems to be sand as it works its way around your figure, engulfing you. Making you feel as if you’re caught inside an hourglass with no way to go but down. The sensation is suffocating as you catch particles of the sand inside your mouth, drying up your taste buds. Its objective is to swallow you whole and consume your existence with itself.  

There is no longer any zen. The pulsations that once lingered through mind, body and soul is now gone and replaced with another kind of awakening. One that is urgent, one that screams for you to get out. In desperation you begin to panic, flailing your arms around. Your movements are drastically slower than you expect with the heavy sand slowing your momentum. With one arm in front of the other you swim your way through the sand, clawing your way out of the dark, pushing away from the suction that holds you down. You don’t stop until you feel the light breeze of what seems to be air brushing past your fingertips. 

You’ve partially reached the surface. The adrenaline is now coursing through your veins, pumping through your heart with such speed. It feels like your heart is ready to burst through your ribcage at any given moment. But you don’t stop fighting against the quicksand until you’re met with the nights sky, seeing how the constellations are littered upon its dark blue canvas. Your eyes twinkle in the moonlight as you gasp for air, spitting out any of the remnants of sand that linger inside your mouth. Hacking rather loudly as you exhale the sand and inhale in the sweet air. 

Mustering the last bit of energy that remains inside of you, you pull your torso out of the sand. The lower half of your body are next to follow as you flop onto the ground and onto your back. The scene is one that someone may have seen in a zombie movie, the undead coming back to life crawling their way out of their graves. Their resting place no longer sufficient. Reborn they quench for the thirst of human flesh except for you, you’re thirsty for life. To live again is all you wish for and you’ve been granted exactly that. Having been given the chance of taking another shot at this cruel game of life. Unbeknownst to you, you’re willing to do whatever it takes to make this permanent. 

Gazing up at the nights sky you’re blown away at the sight. The sticky situation of being buried alive is no longer relevant having been replaced with the beauty of the world. Bringing forward a hand you hold it up towards the sky, holding it in reference next to the moon. Like porcelain, you shine. The flesh of your skin is soft and supple like a newborn baby, everything about you is new. You’re no longer dead but instead given the chance to take host in this new vessel. The body is still yours, it is you but it’s new and improved. There are no signs of your old body, no vomit seeping past your lips tainting your skin. Your bones are perfectly intact with no signs of damage, there is no wear and tear, everything seems to be working perfectly fine. All that remains is the black Saint Laurent minidress that you wore that night, in its pristine condition.

Sitting upwards you observe your surroundings before dusting the sand off of your body and proceeding to stand up. The landscape is rather vast and covered in nothing but sand. However, it seems like you’ve dug yourself out from the side of a sand dune. The tall hill that sits proudly behind you seems like a good idea to climb. Perhaps there will be more to see at the top, a perfect vantage point. Standing upwards you quickly start climbing, your feet dragging into the sand causing you to fall on your face a couple times but nonetheless you reach the top and what lies in front of you takes your breath away. 

It’s a bustling city, lit up by street lanterns and filled with people. It glows in the dark, radiating the silhouettes of its architectural elements. The tall and looming arabesque styled buildings make you feel tiny in comparison. As it draws you in, it doesn’t even look real. Perhaps, this was all a mirage. None of this could be real, you could just be in a state of delusion having just dug yourself out of a hole in the ground but nonetheless you feel hypnotized completely captured by the beauty what lay ahead. In a trance you make your way towards the city. 

Your eyes don’t leave the landscape. Admiring how despite how late it seemed, the people were just as lively. The closer you got, the louder the sounds of the city came alive. The place was surrounded by the desert except for the large port docked with multiple ships to the left of the city where it stretched out onto a large body of water. Perhaps, it led out to the seas? You didn’t know. This place seemed almost mythical like a story coming to life, none of it felt real until you found yourself standing in the middle of it all, walking through its streets. 

As you wandered around you were met with the confused stares of its citizens as they all gawked at you. Taking one look at yourself and back at them you soon realized you weren’t dressed like they were. The people of the city were adorned in different types of silk garments, light enough to withstand the heat of the dessert but strong enough to protect from the winds at night. Meanwhile you wore something that just seemed skimpy in comparison to their clothing, it made it obvious you weren’t from here. 

Ignoring their stares you continue to wander around following the crowds of people. All of which seemed to be heading in one particular direction straight into the upper north side of the city. Up north stood a perfectly, coral white palace that overlooked the city. One that perhaps resembled the Taj Mahal but exceeded in size and was much more grandiose. Strung up in what looks like an assortment of lights it glistens brightly. People fluttering into the palace through its big gates but not just anyone. The people granted access inside were dressed elegantly and much more expensive than the average citizen. 

Just what exactly lay ahead? You had to find out. 

Stopping a random lady in her path you quickly question her about what lies ahead. After receiving a rather annoyed look from her she’s quick to give you a snarky reply, “We’re celebrating the success of the Jung Family. Their son has gratefully claimed our land back from those filthy pirates.” 

“The Jung family? Pirates?” You question out loud as she looks at you stunned. Quickly you change the tone of your reply when you see her squinting her eyes at you in suspicion. Rapidly repeating yourself and fixing your mistake, “Oh yeah! The Jung family! And those pesky little pirates huh?!” 

The women simply rolls her eyes in response before quickly scurrying up ahead not wanting to be bothered by your horrible facade. You watch as she walks past the guards and inside leaving you behind. Standing in the outdoor lobby, your feet are cold and perhaps rather grimy against the polished marble floors as you debate whether or not to go inside. It seemed like there was a definite possibility they wouldn’t allow you indoors but maybe going inside would provide you answers on where exactly you were. Taking a deep breath you stride towards the gates, not making any eye contact with the guards. 

You maybe get a foot into the palace before you’re stopped and roughly thrown back out.

“No beggars allowed inside.” 

Contorting your eyebrows in confusion you look at the guards with disbelief. Here you stood dressed in something that definitely cost more than what someone else was wearing and yet you were denied access inside. Before you could lash out at the guards for being so rough you remember these people aren’t bouncers, in fact it looked like they were from a whole other time period.

This only proved just how out of place you were and you weren’t going anywhere unless you found a change of clothes or somehow snuck inside. Standing back where you once stood with the guards glaring at you, your eyes wander the palace looking for a way in. Glancing at every potential entry point, you scan the entire perimeter. Finally coming to the conclusion that every square inch of the building seemed impossible to penetrate through unseen and with the last few posh citizens piling inside and the gates slamming shut you felt hopeless. 

Here you were in a city you didn’t recognize. A place that looked like the Atlantis of the sands, something out of a mythological book with nowhere to go. Just as you turn around to leave the palace something catches your eye. Within the corner of your peripheral vision you see a figure dart in the near distance, whipping your head in that direction just in time to see a young man climb through a window. His silver hair whipping through the wind. One moment he’s there and the next he’s not.

For a moment you decide that maybe this isn’t worth it. Sneaking in couldn’t promise anything but if it did, the reward would probably be huge. Either that or it held huge consequences. Standing there you debate on whether or not you should go and when you remember the words of the man who’d greeted your soul that night his words speak to you once more.

‘You’ll have a second shot, if you make things right.’ 

Perhaps, this city you were thrown into meant something. A sign of the afterlife? Maybe something that held significant importance? After all, he was the one who’d transferred you here and granted you this new vessel and it seemed to be pretty clear to you by now that everything happens for a reason. Being granted this temporary second shot at life seemed too good to be true but it seemed like there’d be a price to pay if you didn’t accomplish what you were sent for. The only question was, what was it that you needed to do? Glancing at the window you watch as it blows the gold curtains from inside, fluttering it out in the wind. The entryway was almost signalling you inside. The silver haired man from before must have recklessly left it open. 

Taking that as your signal, you run towards the opening. Quickly hoisting yourself up onto the window sill and before slipping inside, you hesitate. All that echoes through your mind is your subconscious screaming at you to just go for it, you do exactly that thinking, 

“Fuck it. What’s the worst that could happen, dying twice?” 

Like an absolute moron you tumble into the room colliding rather loudly with the hard floor. The whole idea of staying quiet and unseen seemed to be impossible for you to accomplish. Turning around you reach for the doors of the window thinking that at least covering your tracks would help. Just as your fingers brace against the metallic framing of the handle you’re stopped in your tracks. 

“Hey,” Calls out someone. The tone of the voice isn’t commanding but instead rather friendly. Looking downwards, you’re met with a rather tall man. His black hair is sleeked back in a hairstyle, two small braids hanging from the side of his scalp. His dark , obsidian orbs are staring right back at you as you gawk at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Clad in the same attire as everyone else you simply brush him off, quickly reaching for the knob and trying to slam it shut in fear of being caught. Only to have your movements halted when his large hand makes contact with your wrist. 

“Leave the window open will you?” He asks as the corners of his mouth stretch into a rather playful grin.

“What? Why don’t you just go through the gate like everyone else?” You ironically retort as you attempt to shake his grip off with no success. 

“What if I don’t belong here?” He questions. Raising his eyebrows rather theatrically as you freeze on the spot, “Just like you.” With those words you’re quick to release the knob and he’s just as quick to release his grip. He’d clearly been watching you and you were absolutely clueless as to just exactly how long. 

The encounter is quick to set off your fight or flight instinct as you make a run for the door, trying to get as far away as possible from the window. Only to be stopped by the same man from before, plummeting to the floor merely inches away from freedom. He rolls you onto your back as he straddles your body, his weight doesn’t crush you in pain but he’s certainly applying pressure and it doesn’t feel great. Using one of his hands to hold both of yours above your head making you essentially defenceless as you try and kick him off with no result. 

“Let’s just make something clear,” He begins. Slowly leaning in closer and closer towards you, stopping merely inches away from your face and specifically from your lips. His breath is hot against your skin as you inhale the heavy smell of tobacco and light cologne that omits from his body. Despite having nowhere to look but at him, deep down you feel hot. The burning sensation that rests at the pit of your stomach makes butterflies erupt inside. You can’t help but admire just how good looking he is and how dangerous. A combination you always couldn’t resist. Your chest is heaving up and down as you struggle to stay calm, your breath even hitches a couple times as his eyes burn into yours. He’s reading you silently like an open book and you can’t help but feel like this vulnerability is lustrous and you want more.

Slowly his other hand snakes up your torso, starting at your navel and tiptoeing through the valley in between of your breasts, finally stopping at your neck. His movements are agile and it feels like his fingers are dancing upon your skin. He takes his time knowing that he’s got the upper hand and that the ship sails his way, not yours. 

Suddenly his hand is wrapped tightly around your neck, gripping the flesh with his slender, calloused fingers. As they press into the sides of your neck skillfully avoiding your windpipe. You’re thankful he isn’t holding you directly down or else he’d probably crush your only main source of breathing. As your vision starts to fall hazy, you’re seeing stars. It’s like peering into the milky way through a telescope looking at the numerous planets and right now you’re looking at Venus. He is beauty, he is mysterious and he is bold. If Venus was a boy it’d be this man hovering above you. Helplessly watching his every movement as he leans down closer gravitating towards your lips before swerving to the left and placing his mouth close to your ear. The situation makes your heart bounce almost as if you’ve just dodged an astroid. 

“If you tell anyone about our little encounter, about me. I’ll go out of my way to kill you first and believe me my schedules pretty full,” The tone in his voice is menacing, definitely evoking more fear within you and you can’t help but gargle out a weak agreement in response. This man came to do business and it seemed like he’d barely decided to spare you and he definitely wouldn’t the next time. He must’ve been convinced with your response because you feel his body weight shift away from you. The sounds of his footsteps move towards the door, his weight creaking against the floor boards and just before he leaves, you prop yourself up calling out to him weakly, “W-who are you?” 

Slowly he turns around looking down on you, the light from the corridor behind him illuminating his figure. “Let’s just say, I’m not very liked here,” Is his response as he brings a finger up towards his lips, twisting them and playfully and throwing away the make belief key. With that he’s gone, disappearing down the hallway and you can’t help but think of one word and one word only. The exact definition of just exactly who this man was, a pirate. Given tonights circumstances that the lady from before had mentioned, it didn’t look like things were going to end very well in terms of the celebration. 

𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑺 𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑬𝑫 ©︎𝑫𝑼0𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑬

[randomprose]

MoShang Week 2021 Day 01: celebrity au / sugar / rivals

When all is said and done—that is, after Shang Qinghua had accepted his victory and fielded the press of any question of the stunt Mobei Jun pulled—Shang Qinghua goes back to the Endless Abyss Sugar Masters kitchen studio.

He sits in front of the xianxia sugar sculpture monstrosity Mobei Jun made to tell Shang Qinghua and basically the whole world of his feelings and couldn’t help but snort a laugh at the life sized cultivator Mobei Jun sculpted out of pastille in Shang Qinghua’s likeness.

It’s…big. When Shang Qinghua called it a monstrosity, he wasn’t even exaggerating. It’s bigger than even Mobei Jun with its base, an intricate background, and a truly impressive pose of him riding a sword. Shang Qinghua truly believes Mobei Jun would’ve won had he not been technically disqualified.

The theme was ‘famous historical people’ and while Shang Qinghua has surely made a name for himself in the culinary industry, he isn’t exactly in the same line as Athena or Leonardo Da Vinci.

It’s just…fucking massive (has he already said that? Because it is) and just really, really intricate. Wow. Shang Qinghua can’t take his eyes off it. It took a truly herculean effort earlier for him to snap out of how amazed he is. This could probably sell way more than the average expensive sugar sculpture. He doesn’t even know if anyone will have the heart to melt this shit for consumption. Hell, it shouldn’t be. This piece should be preserved and put in a food art museum or something.

Is that egotistical of him? To want this sugar sculpture of himself preserved for all eternity? Well, it doesn’t matter! Embarrassing at it is, it really is such a work of art. Mobei Jun should’ve won the whole damn thing and he would’ve too! If the stupid man hadn’t—if he wasn’t so—why did he—

Mobei Jun really likes him this much?

Shang Qinghua doesn’t even know where to begin to process things. For the longest time, he always thought of Mobei Jun as a cocky upstart hellbent on running him out of the industry. Up until this competition and having been forced to work together at the start, Shang Qinghua has never thought of Mobei Jun other than as a rival no matter how one-sided it may be. And now suddenly he finds out it’s not only one-sided but he’s apparently Mobei Jun’s muse and the whole reason he got into patisserie and confectionaries? That he wasn’t out to ruin Shang Qinghua’s career but just actually wants to work with him? And date him?? Apparently???

How does he even respond to that? Does anyone know? Because Shang Qinghua sure as hell doesn’t!

And it’s not even that he finds the idea of dating Mobei Jun unthinkable. They’re friends! Sort of! He thinks! Well, they’re friends now that’s for sure. Before the producers decided that ‘hey, you know what will be great? If we pit the members of the final team against each other like the fucking Hunger Games!’ they were teammates and they were one of the strongest teams to beat. They’re very popular with the audiences too. And no matter how Shang Qinghua had tried his best to not like Mobei Jun at the start, you just don’t go clearing through one of the toughest most cut throat culinary competition in the country as a team without developing some sort of friendship along the way.

When Shang Qinghua finally got over himself and got to know the guy, he found that he’s actually…nice. Great, even! Mobei Jun is funny in that quiet sort of way and has the driest sense of humor Shang Qinghua has ever known of someone. Once, Shen Jiu was grilling them about their spun sugar technique and Mobei Jun mumbled something vaguely offensive and rude that made Shang Qinghua laugh and had Shen Jiu nearly flaying him alive on national TV.

And Mobei Jun apparently likes him way more than how a friend should but it’s...not bad? He’s not uncomfortable or creeped out or anything. It’s just…surprising! Yeah. Shang Qinghua is self-aware enough that people who look like Mobei Jun don’t usually go for people who look like, well, him.

Still, the question remains.

Does Shang Qinghua feel the same for Mobei Jun? And if he does, will he really be opposed to dating him?

The doors to the studio open and who should come in but Mobei Jun himself. He’s a little early than Shang Qinghua expected. He’s not done thinking things over! But he looks at Mobei Jun changed out of his chef’s attire and into a casual loose fitted shirt over dark jeans and combat boots, perfectly at ease at himself despite the earlier stunt he pulled while the person said stunt was directed at is already way in over his head overthinking things.

Mobei Jun stops just by the side of his confession piece looking expectant and Shang Qinghua sighs.

Ah. Who is he kidding? Mobei Jun is exactly, exactly, his type it’s insane. His ideal man in every sense of the word and he kind of hates himself for it.

“You idiot,” Shang Qinghua exhales leaning forward on his knees where he’s perched on the steel table of their former work station. He lets out a short almost hysterical laugh as he runs his hands through his face then his hair in exasperation. “Why did you have to throw in the towel? Don’t even try to reason. That’s what you fucking did. You couldn’t just follow the theme and then ask for my number right after? What the fuck.”

Mobei Jun has the audacity to not look affected at being called out. He just blinks at Shang Qinghua who’s clearly having some kind of Crisis. He thinks it’s cute.

“Do you feel like your victory has no meaning?

“What? No.” Shang Qinghua sits up and sees Mobei Jun has come closer. “I don’t believe in shit like that. A win is a win no matter the circumstances. I won and you lost. Hah!”

“Hmm,” Mobei Jun hums, leaning on the edge of the table beside Shang Qinghua with his phone held out. “So, can I get your number now?”

Shang Qinghua rolls his eyes but takes Mobei Jun’s phone anyway. “See, this is what you should’ve done instead of being all cheesy and confessing on national television.”

“Well, you know,” Mobei Jun shrugs. “Grand gestures and all that.”

Shang Qinghua spies the slight tilt of his lips as he hands him his phone back and, God, this man makes him want to expire right on the spot.

“Well, you looked like a straight-up fool,” he says instead by way of deflection but he really can’t do anything with the stubborn smile spreading on his face.

Mobei Jun doesn’t rise up to the taunt. He just holds up his phone and snaps a quick picture of Shang Qinghua, making him blink after the flash went off.

“Wha—”

“No, see, you look like a straight-up fool,” he says showing him the picture he took where Shang Qinghua looks, for all intents and purposes, a deer caught in a headlight. It’s quite literally unflattering.

“I wasn’t ready! No!” Shang Qinghua attempts to snatch Mobei Jun’s phone but he quickly turns the other way. Shang Qinghua tries to reach for it still while draped across his back. “Don’t you dare put that as my contact photo. Argh!”

“Nah,” Mobei Jun says easily avoiding all of Shang Qinghua’s attempts and already setting the picture as his contact photo. “I like this one. Very candid.”

“I don’t like you.”

“Mm. Pick you up later at seven?”

Shang Qinghua huffs as Mobei Jun returns to leaning against the table. He does not get off of him and just remains slumped on Mobei Jun’s side, chin propped on his shoulder. If Mobei Jun leans down just a little he could easily just plant one on Shang Qinghua.

“Eight and you’re paying for everything. Then afterward, we’ll take another photo, a nicer one, and that will be my contact photo. I’ll take one of you too I guess.”

Mobei Jun hums low and warm sounding content. “Alright,” he says before leaning in to kiss Shang Qinghua sweetly on the nose.

Shang Qinghua scrunches his face at that before leaning forward to give Mobei Jun a proper kiss. He feels Mobei Jun smile against his lips and couldn’t help smiling in return.

[ao3 | twt and other moshang week prompts | buy me a ko-fi // more fics]

[starrynite7114]

the way you love me: part one

A/N: YA GIRL IS BACK. This time with a different type of story! It’s going to be a Rio/Reader/Angel story! I’ve had this in the back burner for quite some time, but I’m glad I can finally share it with you all. I was listening to ‘I Love The Way You Love Me’ by Boyzone, yes, I love the oldies. LOL But anyway, I wanted to share this with you all! Let me know what you think! 

Also, let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Hope you all are having a good start of the week thus far!

Snapshots is almost done and will be posted on Wednesday! WOOOOH!

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Masterlist

tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic​ : @ifoundmyhappythought​ : @carlaangel86​ : @woahitslucyylu​ : @encounterthepast​ : @enamoured-x​ : @thewarriorprincessxo​ : @briana-mishell24​ : @bribri-82​ : @chibsytelford​ : @agirllovespasta​ : @twistnet​ : @everyhowlmarksthedead​ : @trulysuccubus​ : @jadert15​ : @sammskellington​ : @cind-in-real-life​ :  @onmyspookysblock​ : @sadeyesgf​ : @thickemadame​ : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass​ : @gemini0410​ : @elcococruz​ : @samcrobae​ : @sesamepancakes​ : @iambabyharry​ : @blackmissfrizzle​ : @mrs-losa​ : @1-800-imagines​ : @phoenixhalliwell​ : @lady-pswrld​ : @dazzledamazon​  : @getyourcrayoncas​ : @fvckthisbxtchup​ : @lukealvxz​ : @scuzmunkie​ : @lilac-tea-time​ : @danie1432​ : @cocotheclown​ : @soaronmywings​ : @my-rosegold-soul​ : @buttercup812​ : @un-poetryy​ : @angelreyesgirl​ : @sheeshgivemeabreak​ : @vicmackeybullshxt​ : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ : @khyharah​ : @strawberrywritings​ : @cherry-icetea​ : @fuzzy-jellyfish​ : @losolvidad0s​ : @brownsugarcoffy​ : @courtrae89​ : @prdsdjarin​ : @blessedboo​ : @marvelmaree​ : @enamouravecleslivresetlechocolat​ : @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ : @thesandbeneathmytoes​ : @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind​ : @maddie-georges​ : @pearlkitten33​ : @aquamento​ : @incorrect-mcdanno​ : @that-chick212​ : @imanerdychubbyqueen​ : @60shannon​ : @deeandbobbymcgee​ : @rebel-without-cause-x​​ : @marquelapage​ : @justlikebreathing​

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Your adoptive father, Bishop questioned as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

Your wedding dress was breathtaking, the veil was lace, covering your made up face, a natural look was what you requested. This was going to be the happiest day of your life. You were marrying the man you love and you could not wait to meet him at the altar.

But why did this feeling of dread rested at the pit of your stomach?

“Of course,” your eyes met his eyes through the mirror. “I love him.”

“I somehow doubt that.”

“Dad, I appreciate it I do, but what’s done is done. He made his choice and we all have to live with it. Not like it matters to me what he chose, but I’m happy for him.” You managed to smile through the pain. The wound was fresh, but that was to no surprise.

“Do you want me to kill Angel?” Bishop has offered this to you numerous times and you always laughed it off even though you knew he was absolutely serious.

“No, of course not, you know he’s your favorite shithead.”

Bishop had to smirk at that. “He is, but you’re my little girl.”

When you were four years old, your parents died due to a tragic accident. Ironically enough, they were riding your father’s motorcycle and a car came out of nowhere and hit them. 

Drunk driver.

Typical story.

Due to that, Bishop gained sole custody of you. Your parents had no other family, at least none that they wanted you to stay with. So you were left to the care of your father’s best friend, Obispo Losa.

You left Santo Padre years ago, but five months ago, you came back to accompany your fiancé, Christopher ‘Rio’ Vasquez.

Five Months Earlier

You let out a yawn as the captain announced that you would shortly be landing. After you left California five years ago, you had no intention of coming back. Too many memories of heartache and tears that you much rather not deal with. 

But Rio insisted you came with him.

“Take a vacation with me.” You remembered him asking you and you wanted to laugh. California was hardly a vacation.

Okay, it was, you just didn’t like that you were going to Santo Padre. Of all the fucking places that Rio’s cousin lived, it had to be Santo Padre? But it’s been years, Angel Reyes was just part of your memories now.

===============

You frowned as Angel sat across from you, hands folded on the table. You two were at an impasse. Everyone in the club knew you two were together. Hell, Angel made it known so no one would even try to make a move on you.

But outside that little bubble, Angel treated you like a stranger.

It was the same bullshit anyone doing shady shit would say.

“I’m trying to protect you, you are my girl, not everyone has to know it.”

But they do.

Because you felt like you were there out of convenience, that Angel only came to you when he wanted someone and it was the truth. Your interactions were limited at the comforts of the clubhouse and your homes. Otherwise, it was as if you two were hardly friends.

This has been ongoing for three years and as optimistic as you wanted to be. The endless fights and empty promises has broken you.

“I’m done.” You told Angel. “Though, you can't be done with something that was never there.”

“Babe, don’t do this, come on. I’ll try to be better, this is for you.” And it was true. This was Angel’s greatest fear that someone would realize how important you were to him and hurt you, he couldn’t live with that. 

“Right, so that girl on your lap was all for show.” You scoffed. “So when you kissed her at the privacy of our inner circle, it was for show?”

Angel sighed. “You know I love you.”

“You have such a great way of showing it.” You stood up. “I’m gonna go, there’s nothing for me here.”

“What about me? What about us?” Angel felt that he was losing you quickly and there was nothing he could do.

But it wasn’t quickly, this was years in the making.

“I’m not your girl, remember?” You reminded him of that painful statement you heard him utter at the clubhouse when you decided to surprise him.

Well, he could be single now. 

You were done.

===============

“You okay mama’s?” You heard Rio check, breaking you away from your thoughts. 

You turned to face him, reaching over to kiss him. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“I’m excited for you to meet my family.” Rio kissed the back of your hand. “They’ll love you, maybe not as much as me, but they will.”

“Well, I can’t wait for you to meet my family here.” You beamed. Bishop has met Rio, since he always came to see you during the Holidays.

‘We’ve spent the holidays together since you were born, nothing is going to change that.’

He would always tell you and you loved him for that. Even though you lost your parents, you never felt the loneliness since you always had Bishop. 

And Taza.

And Hank.

And Riz.

And Creeper.

And Coco.

And Gilly.

And somehow, even Angel. 

“Am I gonna meet the infamous ex as well?” Rio was not an insecure man. He knew that you love him and he loves you. Whoever this man was, he would never win you back. Rio would put a bullet in between his eyes first. 

You never told Rio his name, Angel was never your boyfriend.

“He wasn’t my boyfriend.”

“Right, fuck buddy or whatever.” Rio chuckled, his drawl was always such a turn on for you. The way he spoke, that tone, the voice, he was so much. “Doesn’t matter mama, you have me now.” He kissed your inner wrist, smiling against your skin.

Rio was a man you met while you were at your job as a bartender. After moving out of Santo Padre, you didn’t stay in California, you moved to the East Coast. You were done and you didn’t want to linger in California. You changed your number and everything. 

It was difficult. You didn’t want to leave your father, but he knew what you had to do. He offered to remove Angel from the club, but you refused. The club was all that Angel had, and yet again, you made the sacrifice for him 

But it was the last one.

You were done with that part of your life after all. 

Rio was a persistent man. When he wanted something, he pursued it till he got it. And that’s what he did to you. At first, you thought maybe he was a flirt, but you realized it wasn’t like that at all. Every night women would try to catch his attention, but it was always solely focused on you. You always thought it was due to the fact you were serving him drinks, but that was hardly the case.

===============

“So when are you giving me your number mami?” Rio questioned before he took a drink of his usual poison.

“My number?” You laughed. “What would you want with that? You got a job for me?”

This man was too damn good looking. The voice, the swagger, the aura and those fucking tattoos, it was making you forget your vow of avoiding the bad boys. 

Though, you were assuming since for all you know, he might be a doctor or or something. 

“I was hoping for more of a date, but if getting you a job gets me a date, say no more beautiful.” He smirked, that devilish smirk that made your knees weak.

===============

Rio held your hand as you two made your way inside the restaurant. You were surprised that he didn’t take you to the AirBnB he rented out for you, himself and Mick. Though he didn’t bring Mick for the family dinner. Rio reasoned that he had other businesses to attend to while the two of you handled family business.

You two stopped at a table and your heart stopped.

At that moment, you wanted the ground to swallow you up. This was not fucking happening.

“Tio Felipe,” Rio greeted Felipe, momentarily letting go of your hand.

Your eyes landed on Angel, who tried his best to remain cool. 

“Angel, Ezekiel,” he nodded his head at the two Reyes men. “This is my fiancé, Y/N.”

Angel’s mouth dropped upon seeing you again, and his heart clenched when he saw the diamond ring on your left fourth finger.

This wasn’t possible.

Of all the women in the world.

You were Rio’s fiancé.

You felt your world shrink around you. Rio’s family in Santo Padre were the Reyes’.

Small fucking world.

[jetaime-jespere]

Prompt #19

#19. “Does your life revolve around embarrassing me?”

“Aaron, I need a favor.”

His boss, Rich, catches him as he’s arriving for the day, shuffling a few piles of papers on his desk as he waits for the clock to strike 8. Not a moment before, not a moment after, he thinks. Their shifts are carefully timed, every minute on the clock accounted for. The budget is tight; Aaron’s heard the rumors, questioning of why Ambassador Prentiss needs the amount of security she has. Whispers of cuts have become more and more frequent over the last few weeks. He’s grateful to still have a full schedule of shifts. Others haven’t been as lucky.

“Sir?” Aaron asks as evenly as he can. It’s about to be a long day and from what he’s learned in the months of working there, visits from Ambassador Prentiss’s head of security typically entail some special assignment, one he didn’t sign up for, but is volun-told for. “Is there something you needed?” He knows he shouldn’t ask, but he needs a good letter of recommendation when he ultimately puts in his two weeks sooner rather than later. He has his eyes on something a bit more ambitious, potentially the FBI. He’s already started the grueling application process.

“A big favor.” Rich sounds slightly out of breath, as if he ran the whole way to his office, judging by his red face. He looks annoyed, his face a little pinched, etched with a few more lines than it had the first time they met. Aaron still isn’t quite sure what makes his job so stressful - the Ambassador’s residence runs like clockwork, and now that it’s fall and things have settled down, it’s been relatively quiet.

“I need you to drive to New Haven this morning. I’d ask Harris to do it, but he called off sick and we’re short-staffed already.” It’s the way he says it that Aaron knows he just learned the news too, as if trying to coordinate logistics in his own head.

New Haven. Fuck, Aaron thinks, briefly closing his eyes. What he wants to say is Harris called off for a bachelor party in Ocean City and to find someone else. Instead, he sinks into his desk chair, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. Driving to New Haven can only mean one thing, and while he’s almost certain no one knows what happened over the summer, he can never be too sure. “New Haven, Sir? This morning?” He glances at the calendar on the wall - shit. It’s the coming weekend before Thanksgiving -more traffic is all but a given, and it also means Emily will be home for almost a full week.

Then he remembers he’s scheduled to work doubles most of the holiday week.

Great.

“Ambassador Prentiss called me to her office an hour ago. She’s asking that Emily be driven home from Yale tonight. I don’t know the details, but she was pretty persistent that one of us would go up there and get her. My guess is she got into some kind of trouble, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

Aaron tries to hide his annoyance, and more so the slight tug of worry in the pit of his stomach. “What are you talking about? What kind of trouble?” He does the math in his head - it’s  a five hour drive to Connecticut without traffic. There and back will be at least a twelve hour day, if not more.

“I don’t want to speculate, but the last time this happened, she got caught underage in a bar and nearly got arrested. We never found out exactly what happened, but from what I heard, it wasn’t good.”

Aaron grimaces; it’s exactly like Emily’s mother to sweep something like that under the rug and completely ignore the bigger issue at hand. From what he’s learned, it’s been a familiar pattern for years.

“The Ambassador approved time and a half for whoever makes the trip. I know you said you need the -”

“I’ll do it,” Aaron says quickly before he can think too much about the circumstances, wondering just what could be so pressing at such a last minute.  His situation with Emily is complicated, one that should have never even become a thing in the first place. But it did, and even three months after she’d left, she remains at the forefront of his mind most days, a constant reminder of those hot summer nights in mid July.

There’d been nights at his apartment and early mornings in her room; behind closed doors he’d fallen for her. She’d careened into his world completely unexpected, a welcomed change from his familiar pattern of soft-spoken, yet well-intentioned blondes. Emily was the exact opposite. There had been secret meetings tucked amongst the endless gardens, dinners in dive bars and a few trips to nicer restaurants under the city lights when his paycheck allowed.  It was exhilarating and all consuming until it wasn’t, when it all came to a screeching halt a few weeks later.

They haven’t talked since the night before left for New Haven. The night ended with an argument, along with tears (hers) and a ridiculous sense of guilt (his) as he dropped her off just outside the gates of the mansion. Yet she’d been the one to end it, explaining through thinly veiled frustration that it just wouldn’t work, that everything would change and none of this could continue. His pushback had only angered her, his attempts to assure her it could in fact work fell on deaf ears. And as she’d all but fled from his car, it was fear he saw in her face. Fear of possibility for what could be.

All of this, along with their months of silence, means he’s probably the last person she’ll expect to see outside her door. Aaron has a feeling she isn’t quite prepared for what is about to be a very unexpected visit. What he also knows is that neither is he.

…

It’s been awhile since he stepped foot on a college campus, and he doesn’t exactly blend in wearing a full suit and dark sunglasses in a sea of jeans and sweatshirts. He ignores the stares he gathers from the small groups of students all over the campus, finding her building with relative ease.

He nods a thanks to the girl holding the door open, quickening his pace just a little. She gives him a once over, lifting an eyebrow at his attire. “Campus security is the other way, you know. You look a little lost.”

“I’m in the right place,” he retorts quickly, brushing past her and up to the third floor. As he climbs the stairs with a slight burn in his lungs from the exertion, Aaron remembers Emily complaining about that three story climb over the summer, and the memory of her, warm in his arms, almost makes him smile. Almost. But she most likely has no idea he’s coming; it’s impossible to tell what her reaction will be. Anger? Indifference? But by now he’s standing outside her door, and it’s too late to turn back.

Aaron knocks three times, crisp and precise, then waits a few perfunctory moments. No answer. He knocks again, this time a little more insistent, and he hears a soft grunt, a muffled voice from behind the door. What he doesn’t expect is what he sees when the door swings open. A guy, about her age give or take, blinks away the confusion from his eyes, his defenses rising immediately. He’s clearly not expecting visitors, and Aaron, half expecting him to close the door in his face, briefly wonders if he has the right room.

319. It’s right, and this just got significantly more awkward, even as a small bubble of jealousy rises in his throat, one that takes him by surprise. “Who the hell are you?” Aaron asks, instinctively propping the door open with his foot.

“Name’s Rob.” There’s a cigarette in his hand; the room smells like an ashtray and slightly of stale wine, even though it’s the middle of the day. He flicks his eyes over Aaron’s suit and scoffs with an air of arrogance. “What are you, some kind of cop or something?”

“I’m here for -”

“Aaron? What are you doing here?” Emily suddenly pops up behind Rob out of nowhere, looking just as surprised, and slightly embarrassed as realization dawns on her face. “Tell me my mother did not send you here.”

Rob visibly tenses at the mention of the Ambassador. “Your mom’s got the cops chasing you now? I thought you said she wouldn’t find out about  -”

Emily’s cheeks flush as she rolls her eyes, taking a sideways look at Aaron. “He’s not a cop, Rob. He just works for her.”

“Basically the same thing, right? You said she basically had her own secret service. You know this guy?”

“Yeah,” Emily sighs with frustration. “I know him.”

Aaron shifts from foot to foot, staring between them both. Being here suddenly feels invasive; he wishes he would have never said yes to this in the first place. It’s clear nothing has changed between Emily and her mother, and everything has changed between the two of them. She’s clearly moved on. Maybe it’s best to make this as detached as possible - a business transaction, no emotions or feelings. “I’m your ride home. Start packing.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Emily narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Just following orders.” He scans the room - the counter is littered with empty cans and cups, a deck of cards strewn over the desk in a corner, an ashtray full of cigarettes. “How soon do you think you can be ready to leave?”

“Leave? What about tonight?” Rob cuts in. “Brian and Dan got bottle service tonight. I thought you were going to bring that hot friend of yours. Dan wants to meet her.”

“Bottle service?” Aaron says incredulously, wishing he could wipe the smirk off Rob’s face. “You do know she’s underage, right?” He doesn’t have to look at Emily to know that is enough to set her off, and she shoots him a look that could cut glass.

“Listen man,” Rob begins, swaying on his feet. “I don’t know who you are but -”

“I’m  the guy who's going to kick you out-” Aaron begins tersely.

“Just go, Rob. Please just … go.” Emily snaps, presses her fingertips to her eyes, the heat rising to her face like two blood red stains on her cheeks. “I’ll … I’ll call you once I figure this out. Just go without me.”

“Or just ditch your babysitter.” He scoffs but still leans in closer, all but towering over her. Aaron doesn’t miss the way Emily recoils when Rob kisses her cheek. He reminds him of the type of guy who would go from her room straight into another girl’s without a second thought, say all the same things and no one will be the wiser. But the door shuts, leaving them alone for the first time in months. Aaron shoves his hands in his suit pockets and stares out the window as Emily sneers.

“Does your life revolve around embarrassing me now?”  she huffs, looping her hair behind her ear, shoes obnoxiously clunking against the floor as pulls a suitcase from under her bed. “Because if so, you’re doing a real bang-up job.”

“No. My job,” he says, placing emphasis on the word, “is getting you back home like I was ordered to do.”

“So they sent you this time?” She sighs, dumping some empty cups into the trash. “Why am I not surprised?” It’s mid afternoon but she looks exhausted, and Aaron wonders if she even got any sleep at all the night before.

“I’m just following orders,” he says again, following her with his eyes as Emily starts tossing clothes into a bag. There’s no thought to her packing process; she opens drawers and slams them shut, pulling out clothes with a little too much force.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” He asks a little more softly this time, keeping space between them both.

“No.”

As expected.

“You can tell me, you know.”

“Nothing happened,” she says crisply, zipping her suitcase shut. But she doesn’t look at him, which confirms that something definitely happened.

“Then why am I here?”

“Aaron,” Emily says almost teasingly, as if any memory of the last time they spoke has seemingly evaporated from her mind. “This is certainly not the first time my mother has sent one of you up here to come get me for some reason or another. It certainly won’t be the last.”

“Seems like an awful lot of trouble for her to go to.” From the tone of his voice it’s clear he doesn’t believe her, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“You have met her right? The only person my mother cares about is herself. And her career. She doesn’t care who else is inconvenienced by that.”

He can’t argue with her, and decides to drop it for the time being. There’s a five hour car ride awaiting them; plenty of time to peel her walls down. “If we don’t leave soon we’re going to hit rush hour,” he says patiently, checking his watch. “The sooner we get back, the better.”

She’s quiet for a few minutes, finishing the last of her packing. But finally Emily meets his stare, and for the first time since he arrived, offers a smile. “It’s good to see you, Aaron.”

This time, he almost believes her.

...

“So, who’s your friend?” Aaron asks casually, a half hour into their five hour trip. She’s hardly said a word since taking the passenger seat; her only request was to stop at the gas station for coffee and a pile of sugary candy that she’s started to work her way through. “Rob?”

His question gets the shortest of laughs from Emily as she tips her sunglasses down her nose. “You lasted longer than I thought you would.” Yet she gives nothing else, and he knows he has to push her a little harder.

“He’s kind of an ass,” Aaron says without taking his eyes off the road. “You hang around him a lot?”

“Why?” She challenges, less out of anger rather than amusement. She’s known this question was coming since the minute she saw him standing in the door. “Are you jealous or something?”

He says nothing, only turns his head to stare at her. “Answer my question.”

“Sometimes.” Emily picks at the seam of a bag of peach rings, her eyes on her lap. “You’re not wrong, though, in your assessment.”

“And yet you still hang around him?” He doesn’t bother to hide the distaste in his voice. “Seems like bad news. Is he the reason why I’m here?”

“You’re worried,” she says quietly, crossing and recrossing her legs. “I can tell.”

“Of course I’m worried, Emily. I’m fucking worried to say the least. Can you blame me?”

“You shouldn’t. It’s under control.” Her silence is telling, an indicator that the conversation is over as she pointedly turns to face the window. Aaron swallows in frustration, knowing he pushed a little too far.

Connecticut turns into New York, the miles already starting to blend together in the tense quiet. As the traffic thickens and the SUV comes to a stop, the George Washington bridge looming in the distance, Emily speaks for the first time in more than an hour.

“Aaron?” She says hesitantly, her bottom lip between her teeth with worry. “Can you keep a secret?”

[dorki-c]

Stolen Cornflakes

Characters: Fem! Reader & Class 1-A

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X reader (but doesn’t have much effect on the story)

Tw: Tad bit of swearing but other than that, its a silly fic <3

A/n: As much as I adore Izubby, I just needed an excuse to write a small fluff bit of him and reader in a crack fic.

The bleary light of a diffused grey and blue sky didn’t dust through the cartoonish styled curtains casting a stale shadow across the rows of squeaky-clean figurines and the snoozing couple underneath the customized hero blanket.

Seconds languidly turned to minutes, before a weird bizzt sound erupted from an unknown source within the room and in result, two (e/c) eyes busted open like a morning flower greeting the world.

(Y/n) knew this alarm far too well.

The soft rumbling somebodies endless void of a stomach, also, knew this alarm far too well.

And to top it off, Izuku hated this alarm.

“Izu…” Arms of the person behind her made their claim when squeezing ever so tightly around the female’s waist. Wiggling against the human cage, low grumbles where a shoved in fluff pile of green strands plopped onto the warm area of a shoulder.

She isn’t letting Izuku hold her back from breakfast.

“Izuku.”

Grabbing the cusp of the cage, nimble fingers attempted to pull apart the scarred digits locked together, however (y/n) underestimated the power behind them.

“No.”

Pulling their bodies even closer, (y/n)’s shoulder blades attempted to push or deter the progress of Izuku winning this morning’s war.

“Yes.”

It wasn’t fair! All you wanted was a nice cup of coffee and your breakfast, but Izuku was making it impossible by being fucking adorable.

“No.”

He knew he weighed heavier than you, so it was realistically unachievable for (y/n) to squirm out of Izuku’s grasp, even if she twisted, pushed, and kicked at her lover’s legs— (y/n) knew she couldn’t win this battle with brute strength alone.

“Lemme—” Izuku knew (y/n) could sense the slow upturn of his lips, “Get—” However, he didn’t sense her arms breaking free of his cage, “My—” and gripping the headboard in such fury, “Food!” that once her head was lifted from the plush pillow, the female twisted her wrists and hips to the left side of the bed that it threw Izuku off guard—causing his makeshift arm prison to be shook off- and allowed (y/n) to sloppily exit the bed.

Nonetheless, when brute strength didn’t win, it was only the matter of making his girlfriend give into the temptation of his puppy dog eyes, pouty lips, and the irresistible whine of her name, that always lured the female back into his arms.

(That has a 95% efficiency of working, and it seems that today would be the remaining 5% of not working.)

“(Y/n), please…” As the male watched the female put on her exercising clothes, he knows its too late to stop her now, so all he’s able to do is groan “It’s like you’re cheating on me with your cornflakes…” where in response; there’s a pause, then an amused snort of “Honey, you cheat on me with the infirmary beds— So, don’t go there.” Before a small smooch of love was placed on his cheek and the only thing that he hears afterwards, is his room’s door shutting on itself.

.

.

.

It takes a few more seconds for him to fully awake to someone’s shout of “WHO THE FUCK ATE THE CORNFLAKE’S!” at the top of their lung’s, in which Izuku assumes that’s your voice, where he hears another feminine voice of “WAIT-- IS OUR CORNFLAKE’S GONE?!” Izuku could only think that could be Uraraka’s voice.

Even though the voices calmed down in volume, thanks to Iida of course, there was a high-pitched scream and another person that said something like…what was it, again?

Something like “they’ve gone feral!” before it went deathly silent.

(Has reality turned into the apocalypse?)

---------------------------------

For the rest of the day, most people strayed away from (y/n) and Uraraka, mostly out of fear that since their breakfast was stolen from them- right, under their noses-, where there was a short snippet of Tokoyami informing the rest of the class that their ‘spirits’ are emitting a ‘dark aura’ which cannot be ‘tamed’, unless they were ‘cured’ with the ‘blessing’ of Kellogg Cornflakes.

Here’s basic translation of what he meant: (Y/n) and Uraraka are equipped for the hunt.

Whilst some people shrugged it off, the majority of the class see those blood thirsty eyes watching, inspecting, and psychologically analysing each and every one of their movements.

(Ah shit, class 1-A is in rigor mortis at this point.)

To say Izuku and maybe a few other people were scared, that would be an understatement in their enrolment to UA.

.

.

.

Usually (y/n) walks with Izuku down to the cafeteria.

Nope, not today.

Within the peripheral range of class 1-A’s eyes, as soon as the bell rings, the two girls seemed to already reach the door before disappearing into the parade that is a high school’s hallway.

It wasn’t until Iida, Izuku, and Shoto arrived at their usual table where Uraraka, Tsuyu, and (y/n) sat, that they, too, saw what Tokoyami meant by ‘dark aura’- the usually chill, easy-going friend they had was consumed by the pit fires of hell.

(WHAT HAVE THEY DONE TO HER?!?!)

“We don’t know who it is, but when we find out,” Uraraka started out the conversation with Tsuyu as (Y/n) sat in between them texting- the loud, ear wrenching pressing of multiple places on her phone (using only her nails) was heard from the opposite side of the table.

“Uraraka and Tsu, we got ‘em.”

The smile they displayed was something out of a horror movie.

“Who did you get…?” Iida was the bravest one to ask.

(May God bless him in heaven. Amen.)

--------------------------------------------

Misty, suffocating air greeted the majority of Class 1-A where the whole common room was shed in darkest, except the lounge area- but the couches were nowhere to be seen, instead there was a large kiddie sized pool filled with cats meowing alongside Aizawa sleeping in the middle and Shinsou sitting on a chair with Tsuyu, Uraraka, and (y/n), wearing police officer uniforms with pitch black sunglasses and armed with black baton in their hands, backing him up.

(When did they get those uniforms?)

“H-hey Kirishima?”

Izuku was lost, scared, and tired. All he wanted was to cuddle with his girlfriend, but (y/n) looks like she might bury him six feet under if she doesn’t figure who ate her Kellogg Cornflakes.

“Yeah man?”

For some reason Kirishima was wearing similar sunglasses to the makeshift police of 1-A and he was sitting in the kiddie pool with cats laying on top of his thighs where he honoured a pin saying, “the feline species are superior”.

“Umm…D-do you know what’s going on?”

Kirishima paused, then raised his hand to pet a cat.

(He looks oddly at peace…)

“Shinsou is helping the girls interrogate who stole their breakfast this morning, if you answer correctly then you get to sit in this pool!”

And so Izuku did as Kirishima suggested him to do.

“You are going to be put under my quirk in order pass the test.” Said Shinsou.

Okay… that sounds awfully suspicious. But Izuku still nodded and said yes, before feeling the familiar sensation of Shinsou’s quirk wash over him.

-----------------------------------

“Did you eat the Kelloggs Cornflakes?”

(He’s sure he hasn’t.)

“No.” His voice was bland of emotion before breaking out of his temporary brainwash, then given a pair of black sunglasses and the same pin that Kirishima wore.

“You are free to sit in the kiddie pool if you want to. Otherwise, thank you for not being a traitor.” The girls say in unison.

(WHAT FALSE EARTH DOES HE LIVE ON?)

Though once Izuku sat down in the kiddie pool next to Kirishima, all of his fears, worries, and doubts soon vanished under the cover of the feline species (which are superior).

Something along the lines of “BATTER UP BITCHES, WE HAVE A GRAPE TO CATCH” was heard a moment later.

Screams of help? No, we don’t know her.

All we know is that you should never touch somebodies Kellogg Cornflakes.

Amen.

Taglist: 

@quietlegends, @izukubabe, @nyanyabisjjj, @glitterfreezed, @sweater-weather-seven

[kozisjournal]

𝒇𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒎𝒆- 𝑘𝑎𝑡𝑠𝑢𝑘𝑖 𝑏𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜𝑢

round two, let's go !

warnings: blood mentions, and cursing, but that's about it.

notes: this katsuki bakugou is the king of dragons, i've had the absoulte worst brainrot for this over the past couple days so, wrote this and prayed it would help... it didn't but, it was worth a shot. words: 1.5k

enjoy !

battle was always… tricky for katsuki. on one hand, he loved it. he was well trained by both parents. yet on the other, there was this feeling. he couldn’t even begin to explain it. but there it sat in the pit of his stomach once again, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. everyone told him to ignore it, push it down, use it as fuel for the fire that burned in his deep ruby eyes. he couldn’t stop the grimace that steadily built its way across his face as his falcata plunged into another torso.

he’d never get used to the sound of destruction he left in his wake, his army crying out with each savage movement. they wanted him to keep going, so he must. reclaim the lands that were once theirs, and kill anyone that stood his way. his leg raised to kick the poor bastard off his sword, the urge to gag settling on the back of his tongue. the scent of blood hung over his head as it trailed down his arm, sticky and dark, yet his eyes still moved to find the next extra to drive his sword through.

an unfamiliar wail rang in his ears. it sounded inhuman, and so angry. defeated almost. he couldn’t get distracted now, taking a few steps through the blood soaked grass under his boots, then he heard it again… what the fuck?

“this is what your king wants, isn’t it? for your useless race to die along with the rest of your villages.”

how had that elf gotten past him? his body tensed, feet stabling under him, sword raised and ready for impact. without so much as another breath, he darted through the crowd, threading between other pairs fighting, until he felt a crack. katsuki looked through his lashes, evil smirk plastered across his lips while a disheartened chuckle passed them.

“the last thing i want is for my people to die by the hands of you scum.”

by its own will, his wrist twisted, a nasty sound coming from the man he’d just impaled on his blade. a calloused hand pushed him away, then without looking, the same hand extended out to who he’d just saved. they pushed it away, and that caught his attention. his gaze moved to meet theirs, one brow raising while he looked over their smaller figure.

“i didn’t need your help. i had it under control.”

“alright, whatever. next time i won’t save your ass then.”

within a blink of bright red eyes, he was the one looking up, cold metal pressed across his neck.

“good, last thing i need is your help.”

his hands came to rest on either side of his head, palms up in surrender while he studied their face. he’d never seen them within the kingdom. maybe they were a villager? it didn’t really matter… they were beautiful. the king, of course, couldn’t believe in love at first sight. after he took home this win, he was to be married to a fae princess. everyone knew that, so why did it feel like his heart had completely stopped? clean air scrubbed away at his lungs as they drew in a deep breath.wait, did they say something…?

“ya gonna get up, king? or are you gonna keep giving me that weird look?”

shit! they were already on their feet, now extending out a hand of their own, much smaller than his. it was kinda cute… no! no, no, no. not cute.. um.. so what was it then? he brushed himself off once he was standing, his fingers twitching. is he nervous? no, he couldn’t be. the king of dragons doesn’t get nervous from a simple glance. they cleared their throat, pulling him from his internal monologue of confusion. within that moment, y/n’s own face began to heat at the feeling of king katsuki’s hand still wrapped around theirs. the skin felt soft against his own, dried blood and a lifetime of training coated his hand like a blanket. y/n could almost feel the weight of an entire kingdom within it, a sense of pride filling their chest as they examined the king again.

“thanks for saving me… i guess. don’t let that go to your already inflated ego though.”

katsuki could only laugh, shaking his head and, regretfully, pulling his hand from their grasp.

“yeah, yeah. maybe watch yourself and i won’t have to come rescue you again.”

“you make it sound like i was a damsel in distress.”

“well… ow-!”

They landed a swift hit to the crown of his head, looking up at him with a confusing expression. katsuki couldn’t read it at first, there was a mix of both anger and half of a smile written across their face.

“didn’t i tell you to not let that go to your head, you oaf.”

“yeah, you did. but last time i checked. i’m the king, and you’re the smallest warrior in this battle.”

a pair of arms moved to cross over their chest, while a pout, clear as day, sat across their lips. that was it. katsuki could feel a smile tug at the corners of his own lips, attempting to stifle a laugh, but failing miserably. they wanted to land another smack, however, if they did, that would only give the king another reason to laugh.

“what's so funny, your highness?”

the title brought him back down to earth, the light hearted expression now becoming no more than a dream to the pair.

“we gotta war to win… i’ll see you out there.”

their head turned, eyes narrowing as they scanned across the horizon, katsuki’s hand extending out to rest against their exposed shoulder.

“fight with me.”

“what?!”

with the most dumbfounded expression they could muster, their eyes moved to look over the king in front of them, instead of the dwindling battle.

“what? want me to repeat it? i don’t want anymore of my people to get hurt, and it looks like you’ve fought hard already.”

“so you want me, a complete stranger, to fight by your side?”

he only nodded, his own gaze now moving to examine the ongoing fight. maybe this was a terrible idea. the worst he’d ever come up with. but right now the only thing that mattered to him was keeping his people safe, and y/n was one of them. instead of disregarding his request, they stood beside him, readying their own weapon.

“i don’t think i ever got your name.”

“yeah, you can get it after we win. sound fair?”

he looked over them again, a sly smile sitting across his face while he gave a short nod.

“better make sure we win then. let’s go.”

he sped off without a second thought, roaring with nothing but excitement now. the itch had been scratched. he wouldn’t have to explain why battle was so tough for him anymore. he’d found his reason for fighting. a partner. y/n watched him run off with a sort of amazement coursing through them. maybe the king wasn’t as bad as everyone said he was. sure, he seemed kinda dumb but it was almost endearing.

the pair fought seamlessly, covering for each other when needed, taking turns on ending strikes. they stayed side by side until the end, and katsuki caught himself staring in awe more than once. there was something soothing about having a partner out there. someone to share a win with, someone to trust. by the gods, it’s been so long since he’s found someone he could trust in a fight. this was something he could get used to it. now. the king wasn't supposed to get attached to someone he just met, much less someone he’d most likely never see again. but they did meet again. plenty of times after that.

after a month of what seemed like endless fighting, the elfan people finally gave up, pathetically waving a white flag in figure eights. katsuki’s army stood behind him, raising their weapons in victory, jumping and dancing like the barbarians they truly were, and one again caught his attention. his shorter battle partner sprinted towards him, wrapping him in a tight hug, weapon now lying idle on the ground beside them. the two stayed like that for what seemed like years, holding each other and basking in the glory of the sucess they’ll be taking home. he felt something whispered into his skin, eyebrows knitting a story of confusion, slowly pulling away from the smaller figure in his hold.

“sorry.. what was that?”

“y/n. that’s my name.”

he stood completely dumbfounded, all this time, they’d been joined at the hip. throughout long grueling days and cold nights, they’d been at each other’s sides. and yet, king katsuki was just getting their name.

“you always have this dumb look on your face. you understand how introductions work, right?”

“yeah.. of course i do. ours was just different, that's all.”

“just don’t forget who covered you out there. i’m going back home.”

his head nodded slowly, offering them a smile in return. and that was it, they turned on their heel and walked in the opposite direction while hoards of warriors within the dragon kingdom celebrated around him. it only took a moment for that devilish smirk to spread across his lips, following behind them, and leaving his more than tired army behind...and he never met that fae princes, either, for the record.

[omniscientoranges]

Hold My Hand On the Way Out

Idea's been done to death but I'm thinking,,, thinking,,, Dean goes to save Cas from the Empty but Cas doesn't think he's real at first. Yeah. That's what I'm thinking.

1.5k words

[ao3]

Dean trips slightly on the way out of the portal. That's probably because Sam sighed and pushed him in when he turned back and started to say something like you know, maybe I'm not the best guy for the job? Maybe you should go or Jack cou-. Dean doesn't blame him for that, really. He knows he was being overdramatic, but it's not every day a guy hurls himself into an endless void to save his currently dead best friend (who might also be the love of his life but, one thing at a time). 

It looks like he's standing on a whole lot of nothing, which gives him vertigo for a second before he remembers that nothing is really the whole point of this place. Still doesn't make him any less queasy, though. 

"Cas?" Dean shouts into the void. Which is ridiculous, shouting into a literal limitless nothing and hoping Cas hears him. But it's the only play he's got, so: "Cas! You out there? Come on, man, I'm praying, okay? Cas!" 

"Dean?" 

Dean spins on his heels and breathes a sigh of relief when his eyes fall on Cas, standing like a monolith against the stark black Empty surrounding them. That worked way faster than he expected it to. 

"Shit, hey, there you are. Look, I'm here to-" 

"Stop it." Cas responds. And he actually looks- scared? Angry? Upset? 

"What?" 

"Stop doing this to me. I know he's not real, I know you're not real. Stop toying with me like this. You said I could rest, this is cruel, even for you." 

Even for you, what is Cas talking about? Sure, yeah, Dean can be a dick, but he's not that big of a dick. Is he? "What? Cas I-" 

"Stop, please just- just leave me alone." Cas all but whimpers saying that, and that's when it clicks in Dean's head. He thinks he's the Empty. Or some manifestation of it. He thinks Dean's not real. Jesus, what has this place been doing to him? 

"No, it's me. Cas, it's me, really." 

"I know you're lying." 

"I'm not lying I-" Dean turns and scrubs a hand down his face, "What can I do to make you believe me?" 

Cas just shakes his head and closes his eyes, looking away with pain etched on his face. 

"Cas, look at me please," he doesn't know why, but Cas looks up. "It's me. I promise." 

But Dean's looking at Cas and Cas doesn't see him. Just looks right past him. No, not quite past him - just looks at him like he's not him. Like he's a fake. A ghost. 

It sucks. Fully, fully sucks. Dean didn't realize that there was this pit in his chest that only felt whole whenever Cas was looking at him, but he really gets that now. And Dean's heart beats a hard rhythm against that pit and it makes his breath come out stilted, makes it hardly come out at all. He wants to sob, or scream, or hit something or get hit. He feels likes everything's closing in around him and he never realized how it could feel to have everything you could ever want standing right in front of you only for it to look back at you like you aren't anything, like you aren't fucking real and it's- it's- it's-

"I love you." 

Dean says it softly, reverently. In a way that doesn't convey that it feels like the words tear out of him, rip from his throat- rip from his heart. Because that's what Cas is to him now. He's his heart. 

"And I- I always did, always have. Don't you know that? But no, you didn't know. That's the whole point. You didn't know, but, Cas, I've been yours the whole time. You've had me the whole time. And I can't believe you didn't know that. I can't believe I never had the guts to tell you before. But-" And Dean's pacing, he's determined to lay it all out because he needs Cas to know this time. He needs him to really understand. Needs him. Fullstop, if he's being honest. And, right now, he is. 

"It's you. Always. You're it for me. No one else, Cas, no one. I need you. I love you, do you hear me?" Dean's stepping into Cas' space, bringing both his hands up to either side of his face, like if he holds him there and makes him look and really listen that he'll hear it. That he'll understand it. That Dean’s right here and that he was always worth it, to Dean he was always worth it. 

"I love you, you stupid son of a bitch, I love you." Maybe he can fix it if he says it enough, says those three words enough, repeats them like a mantra, like a fucking heartbeat in his head. I love you I love you I love you. Dean's pretty sure he's said I love you more times in the last 2 minutes than he's said it in the rest of his whole life combined. 

Cas is still looking past him, hopeless. So, once more with feeling. "Cas, Castiel, please listen to me. I love you too." 

Dean leans in and seals his lips over Cas'. 

Cas doesn't move to kiss back, and Dean almost cries out with the sharp wave of pain that sends through him. Please, please, this has to be enough. It's all I have. This has to be enough. Please. 

With a jolt, Dean feels Cas' hand tentatively brush his elbow, then reach up, up, and fit perfectly onto his left shoulder. And that's it. Cas moves his other arm and wraps it behind Dean's neck, pulling him in closer, kissing him deeper. One of Dean's hands trails from Cas' face and curls into the lapel of his too-heavy trench coat. 

When they pull apart it's not because they need to breathe, it's because they feel like if they kiss any more they'll shatter under the weight of it. This thing- this love that's been between them for so long finally coming to the surface. It's entirely too much. It's entirely not enough. Dean unfists Cas' coat and smooths out the wrinkles, Cas lets the arm wrapped behind Dean's head fall and slip around his waist instead. 

"It's really you?" 

"'Course it is, you expecting someone else?" 

"Dean," Cas breathes out. And that's a sentence in and of itself - just Dean. The way Cas says it like a prayer, like a promise, like a goddamn benediction. Like Dean's the holy one in this equation. Dean's hit with the realization that there's nothing different in the way Cas said his name just then compared to any time before that - that he's always been Dean. That he's always been loved. 

Somewhere caught up in an epiphany and half Dean finds a second to register they should probably - very quickly - get the hell out of there. 

Dean slides his palm from Cas' cheek, down his arm, and twines their fingers together. "Cas, come on, we gotta go," and nods his head at the flickering yellow line of a portal a few paces behind him. 

Cas trains his eyes on the portal, and looks a bit skeptical. "Are you sure it'll work?" 

"If it doesn't then I'll keep coming back here until it does work, or until the Empty gets so sick of me that it either kills me or tosses us both outta here on principle," Dean says. His brazen recklessness has Cas making a face that Dean knows means he's doing everything in his power not to roll his eyes. But it's fond, it's so, so fond, and Dean can't believe he never saw it before. How much Cas truly loves him - loves every stupid, reckless part of him. How much Cas loves all of him.

Dean grins, "Either way, I'm not leaving here without you."  And, oh, that's familiar. This is something they've done before, the two of them - pulling each other out of impossible situations. Done it more than once, actually. 

"So what, I'm Eurydice and you're Orpheus and we're just supposed to hold hands and sail off this cliff together?" Cas says, trying and failing to hide a smile because not only is he making an accurate pop culture reference but he's also making an accurate Dean reference. Double points. 

"Yep, exactly." 

"You're insufferable." 

"Yeah, but you love me anyway." 

Cas' eyes soften, "I really do." 

Dean, since apparently he's reverted back to being a 16 year old, blushes at how earnest Cas is when he says that. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on, let's go." 

"Lead the way." 

Dean leads, hand reaching back and gripping Cas' so firmly he knows the skin's going paler where their hands link. Maybe it's the mythology reference Cas just made or maybe it's something else, but Dean doesn't let himself look back. They pause for a second when they reach the portal. If there was anyone to pray to Dean would pray with every part of himself that this works. Instead, he just hopes it does. 

A step, a bright light, a dimmer light, the sound of shoes hitting reinforced concrete, a portal closing behind him, a hand still- blissfully still in his. Dean turns around. 

"I guess it worked," Cas beams. 

Dean doesn't stop to think before he's kissing Cas again. Afterall, they've got a lot of time to make up for.