#like why do you want it to be gross and looked down upon and distasteful

[remotewatch]

Thank you so SO much for drawing that boundary! Jacks 31, I’m 26 and even with a 5 yr gap it makes me wonder, IMAGINE 21 AND 31, “controversially young gf” is very cringe to me and gives groomer vibes which is so not Jack.

Thank you thank you thank you!

Of course! And same, I would be so fucking grossed out if he popped out with a gf my age 🤮

I know he has a lot of young fans who want to see themselves in fics about him, which is why I try to keep most of the generic bf/fiancé ones ambiguous on that front. Idc if you’re 18 and into him but I’m certainly not going to explicitly characterize him as reciprocating that!!!!!

[laf-outloud]

I hope it's okay to vent to you here about this.

I only now watched the panel from last weekend's con and I just have such a distaste for Jensen these days. The Portuguese buns joke was just gross to me. Especially when he added to it by asking if anyone there was Brazilian? Way to reference your ex-gf in such a male gaze way, pal. Like I get that Jared made the same joke too and it was just a joke, but why make it blatantly obvious that he's talking about his ex-gf? Which is beyond weird given the circumstances. It almost reminded me of that tasteless and tone deaf Brendan Fraser joke he made when with Jeffrey Dean Morgan in that NJ panel. His overgrown frat boy is showing. Not to mention all we have learned about his attitude towards other people working on a set, his or someone else's, ever since the Rust interview, what the Winchesters cast and crew were forced to endure during shooting, and now this lawsuit.

Then his answer to the gift question just made me roll my eyes. I get that these guys are essentially putting on a show at these cons and we don't know how they are privately, but sometimes the whole Jensen being a grumpy dad thing just leaves him looking like an ungrateful jerk. I also know this was a joke but why does he always have to take a potshot at his kids? I don't get it. In what way is that entertaining? And why do AA's eat this shit right up? I can't have kids so maybe it's a touchy point for me but do you know how grateful I'd be to get any kid's drawing never mind my own? Kids aren't trying to be the next Picasso. They're making those drawings for you because they love you and want to make you something. I get he's joking and most likely embellishing for entertainment's sake but that just came off to me as him being an ungrateful asshole, just like the race car story.

Ever since that very entitled story, my opinion of him has sunk lower and lower. I don't know what's going on with him. I don't know if it has to do with the whole Soldier Boy and Dean branding, trying to emulate some mix of the two but holy crap I am so over him acting like an asshole. The grumpy persona is extremely tired and off-putting, except to AA's who only see him for his looks. He could be cursing them out or punching someone out and they wouldn't care as long as he looks good doing it.

I saw a video the other day of him at a con with Jared from 2014 I think it was. What a vast difference. Perhaps in his private life he's much different but how he's been acting publicly recently leaves a very bad taste in the mouth. In comparison, Jared seems way more grateful, a lot happier, and kinder I would even say. Like I said, maybe Jensen is different privately but publicly he has become a major dick. That's very disappointing and like I said off-putting. I've tried to continue being a fan of both guys and be supportive of them separately and together, but with the things he's said lately, Jensen is making it awful hard to continue.

It's just disappointing and really reminds you that no matter how they act publicly, like once upon a time this guy acting humble and gracious and down to earth and grateful for every opportunity that's been given to him, you never really know who they are. It's just so massively disappointing. Thanks for letting me vent to you here.

My blot is always open to venting. Vent away, anon!

To be honest, I didn't really connect Jensen's bun story with his ex from over 20 years ago. If he was, yeah, it's crass, and it would certainly fall in line with so many of his other crass jokes/stories. I'm on your side when it comes to being tired of his grumpy/frat boy persona.

Part of me thinks the de-evolution of his public persona is a coping strategy for hiding how lost/uncertain he is with his career (and possibly his personal life). Like, he has to create a character of himself in order to hide any vulnerabilities. But at the same time, you wonder how much truth there is in that personality because it shows up in other cases where he's not putting on a show (like the police interview).

(It could also be that he no longer has Jared around to inspire him to be a better person which may be why he seemed so much nicer in those earlier cons. Some people tend to adopt the traits of those they're most around.)

Whatever the reason, it is disappointing to see and I understand your frustrations. It's hard to be a fan of someone who is no longer the person you thought they were. I hope venting helped a bit and I wish you the very best!

[vazelbeak]

Thoughts on S1E8

Okay lemme organize this. My apologies for not having a consistent formatting however it try to organize it based on my thoughts for each episode

Story Progression: Okay, for story progression a lot of it I feel is best described as nothing holds weight until Blitzo shows up. And thats to say I think a lot of the writing for Loona isnt very strong. I go to bars to perform so I'm not sure how or why Loona is embarassed over throwing up and why other hellhounds care much if at all mainly because I can see it embarrassing if she threw up on Vortex, but that seems like a situation other people at most would find her gross or a jerk for showing up to his party after. I think its very natural for people to assume Gluttony as being centered on eating too much, however I think the thing about that is Gluttony in context is about materialistic over consumption so things like fast fashion and much more akin to our modern ideas of greed. It also looks quite bad knowing Kesha had an eating disorder and of course it's not my place to say what she can and can't do, it just comes off distasteful. I didn't quite follow why Loona decides upon leaving the party. It might make a bit more sense if Vortex walked off with Bee and so Loona felt like the only person she cared about is leaving with someone more important than her. Otherwise it feels not very well written to express why Loona was upset in my eyes. Bee was nice to her, and wanted her to have fun at the party. The idea Loona wanted to stay because of different hellhound showing up feels like it should've built up to her interacting with this new character but instead the spotlight goes to Blitzo drinking with Bee. Speaking of which, to my knowledge drinking competitions are more about drinking the most and keeping it down more than just who drinks the fastest? So I dont know why Blitzo ripping the tube off to drink more would make him win. I think it may have been stronger if they had things get tense and a more close up shot of Blitzo ripping off the tube and taking massive gulps and other people looking on either shocked or slightly worried because nobody's drank so much so fast let alone in one sitting as well as make it a bit more tense to build up to Blitzo being trashed. The theres the conflict of Loona being rude to Bee which feels very out of nowhere. And more like a reason to make Loona go check on Blitzo because she didn't want to. The way Blitzo is the one driven home and taken care of by Loona feels like it has very little meaning sheerly because this episode seemed meant to be focused on Loona but instead we're back to it being all about Blitzo. Lastly "fizz was right im gonna die alone" feels very out of nowhere. There was minimal build up in the episode to this being the issue beyond making a joke of him trying to have sex with the nearest imp he can find. I get that they want this to tie into the convo but I think it would be prompted better if Loona said something that tied into it like

Blitzo: i had a shitty night Loona: well you definitely made that clear, remind me not to invite you to anymore parties. in which is prompted because Loona unknowingly made a poorly timed comment and Blitzo takes it to heart. There is also the whole "will you be there Loonie?" feels hollow both because its delivery feels like it lacks the seriousness needed to be genuine when she shouldve been able to grasp it from what was already said. But this also rings hollow when in Seeing Stars she's beating the hell out of him. And if they wanted it to be in line with Season 2, i think they shouldve swapped Blitzo and Loona. Make Blitzo help Loona to bed, and noteably have him empty her pockets placing her lighter somewhere and then when in season 2 when she talks about Blitzo trying while looking at her lighter it holds more weight. Because it indicates her thinking of when Blitzo helped her to bed.

Consistency/Continuity

Continuity and Consistency are on the messy side again. While i get the song is Cotton Candy I do somewhat wish it was a bit less literal because when so many lyrics are literal and then you have a lyric of "keep making me that mother fucking honey" while i think this was supposed to tie into her tasting people at her parties, it wouldve better correlated if during this she appeared to drool or licked her lips to better integrate this. In a similar vain if Bee can taste it was she not able to tell Loona was upset? Why was that lost on her? The lines "He's like a brother to me but not actually my brother" and "It was fine i COULD hit that" Look bad next to Western Energies incest thing. It would be similar if swapped because if meant as a joke it struggles to read that way. Next people shocked Blitzo has a daughter feels like it didnt really belong as a line. I feel like it'd make more sense if people heard he had a daughter from Verosika (since Tex is her body guard and its Tex's GF's party) and wanted to meet her. like "I heard you had a daughter, where is she?" and Loona was upset because people didnt realize she's his daughter emphasizing how isolated she feels. She feels like she doesnt fit in around other hell hounds, but the at home she's the only hell hound. Which would make sense in how she tries to jump into conversations and acts or makes it awkward as well as make sense of why she seems to care what other hellhounds think of her more than Millie and Moxxie. Loona's "it looks like your in the middle of an orgy!" doesnt make much sense to me hes kissing one guy. Interestingly we see the trans masc imp he spoke to earlier and a trans fem imp watching this. If anyone tries to tell me this makes up for making Millies brother cis i dont wanna hear it because I dont see a good reason for her to have remotely done that.

Speaking of that one guy not sure where else to fit this, it may just be me but Blitzo saying "Im not fucking a dennis I need a monica or alejandro in here stat!!" perhaps it may be due to an article I read the other day but this sounds like a latin lover stereotype and a bare minimum poorly written. So is Loona punching another imp. It just didnt come off funny.

Everyone says Beezle but its spelled Beelzebub. I get belphegor = bell but Bee shouldn't be Beez. Bee works though!

Character Writing

Character writing is largely well...hollow. It feels like very little of what Loona feels means much because we're shown so little of why she feels the way she does. I dont think we needed to see Blitzo getting in a drinking contest with Bee because it was clear they had alcohol. Part of me wonders what Vortex sees in Bee, mainly because of how she's not really hanging around him much. Usually couples either hang together, or are in the same vicinity unless something important draws them away like hanging out with a friend which it seems currently a lot of the imps and hell hounds here aren't based on interactions. It might help if she was asking more personal questions like "how are the kids?" "Did you tell them you were sick so you could come here?" that feels more human and less like a celebrity interacting with fans.

If this was Vivs idea of a big Loona episode it feels like it's just making her shallow and another "theyre either besties or a bitch" situation where those are the only dynamics Viv seems to be able to write between two female characters. I think maybe it would be neat if Loona felt like she was a bad person for having feelings for Vortex and knowing his girlfriend is a nice person makes her feel worse because she can't even justify hating her outside of being in a relationship with someone she has a crush on.

WIth the fight think Vortex should be more upset that the two started fighting. Both Loona for getting mad when Bee asks her to check on Blitzo, and Bee for wanting to start a fight with a friend he invited. It feels weird for them to just want to go dance right after and not have Vortex at any point be like "Can you please not pick a fight with my friend? Its not you its just, she and her dad have a complicated relationship." with Bee replying "I'm sorry, I'm not very close to my family and forget other people can be a bit more attached to them." "Its okay, I forgive you. Do you wanna go dance?" Largely Id say the interactions felt kinda of hollow and not expanded upon enough. Things only meant something and felt weight when it was regarding Blitzo because we get so little info and expansion regarding Loonas character to have anything we see mean anything outside of the episodes theyre contained to.

[captain-kinda-trash]

Hello love! I hope I’m one of your first asks!!! 😍

Can I order up a new love/confessing feelings with a side of fluff, a la Bayverse Donatello please?! 💜

Sure thing lovely!! Hope you enjoy!!

Truck Repairs (Bayverse! Donatello x Fem! Reader)

"Torque wrench please."

"Got it."

The slap of cool metal against scales resounded from underneath the Turtle Truck (a name Y/N commonly used, much to her companion's distaste), as Donnie was handed yet another tool from the plastic box next to his feet.

"Thank you." He huffed out. The cranking of gears, clinking of iron echoed out from the truck.

"Sure thing, Don," The girl said, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside the turtle's legs, "How much longer do you think this should take?" Her eyes stole an extensive glance at those toned, long, delicious-looking limbs. Wait. What? That didn't come from her mind again, did it?

Of course, it did. When did it not? Donatello sighed, voice floating out from below the massive machine, and then the wheels of his skateboard rolled against the cement as he uses his feet to pull his body from underneath.

"Uh, I'm not sure. The damage inflicted on the lower regions of the compression body is pretty tremendous. It could take up a few days, weeks even, if not strategically maneuvered-" he pushed the goggles from his eyes to settle comfortably on the top of his head, revealing the glittering hue of those beautiful amber eyes, "But it seems to be going well at the moment."

His mouth cutely curled up into a smile, one that never failed to release a cocoon of uncaged butterflies in Y/N's stomach.

She grinned back, and then shyly turned to study the soles of her shoes, evidently more interesting than looking at his uncannily handsome face.

"That's good to hear. Maybe we should take a break soon. You've been working like crazy since you got back from patrol."

His smile very subtly faded at this suggestion, though he made sure that his friend didn't catch it. Donnie enjoyed this company that she provided working with him on the truck's repairs, much more than he was willing to admit. Though, yes, he could use a nice break, maybe grab a snack or glass of water, the mutant knew surely that nothing fueled his cravings like her sweet presence (incomparably rich to the taste of his beloved pop tarts).

And if the same wasn't in her book about him, then by gods...

I mean sure, he's a mutant. Gross right?

Wrong. So, so very wrong.

"Y-yeah I guess we could take a little break." He responded, then let out a sort of struggled grunt as his body lifted to sit upwards and rest his shell on the side of the garbage truck.

Y/N's eyes wandered once more at the marvelous rolling and extending of his muscles as he did so, draping a single sturdy arm across one knee and using the other to adjust his glasses. She gulped. Her gaze shamelessly traveled to the seemingly endless length of his legs, until she caught the quick movement of his head in her peripheral.

She immediately averted her stare, back down to the laces of her converse, trying to subside the heat crawling quickly over her neck.

"T-tell you what, why don't I go grab you a snack, and you stay here and see if there's anything else we can do." Y/N pushed herself up from the ground and before Donnie could respond, she had already scampered out of the workshop to avoid any further humiliation.

"O-okay!" He called after her, though the likeliness of hearing him was probably far gone since she was already in the kitchen by then.

Y/N grasped the bridge of her nose between her for dinner and thumb, letting out an exasperated sigh as the tap water still poured, pattering against the metal sink.

'He totally caught me staring,' she thought. Though her self-control was usually tempered, easily under restraint, it melted into a helpless puddle when Donatello's presence was made known around her. Hell, even passing up the open doorway of his lab as he worked was a strain, and Y/N found herself peeking in curiously as his eyes fixated carefully, passionately over a project as he worked.

It took every willful ounce in her body not to just snatch the tails of his violet bandana and yank him in for a savory kiss every time he was a few feet away from her.

Her brain, exhausted from such thoughts, tried to focus on her footfalls, the wrinkle of pop-tart wrappers, the clinking of ice against glass cups, a cool contrast against Y/N's warm arms.

She halted directly outside of the workshop, inhaled, exhaled, and then rounded the corner to see-

Nobody? Weird. Perhaps Donnie had gone to his lab to grab more tools or just put them away since the aforementioned bucket of appliances had gone missing right along with their possessor.

"Huh. Weird." Y/N thought aloud, and then after looking over her shoulder and out of the doorway, she decided that she might check out the inside of the truck. After all, it had been some time since she'd seen it and was rarely able to because of the lack of missions she joined in on.

She set the two cups of water and foil packages gently on a nearby bench, before making her way towards the rear entrance. Y/N's hands settled on the large iron handle wrapping their small extent around it and then pulled down with all of her strength.

Man, the brothers made it look so easy, and by the time the lever reached its lowest point with a loud click, she had managed to work up a bit of a sweat.

The door, a huge garage-like lift system on the back end of the truck, began to lift, creaking and groaning as it did so. Y/N smiled, eyes glancing down carefully as her feet made contact with each rising step into the truck.

However, her plan had been spoiled, if you could even call it that. Because, just as she was entering the vehicle, it seemed Donatello would be exciting. As Y/N looked up from the final footstep, and Donnie from his tech pad, their noses and mouths bumped, and all was still. Both of their bright eyes were wide with shock and unbearable mortification at the sensation of petal-soft skin against cool scales, lips awkwardly resting upon one another.

They both pulled away as fast as they had come together, though Y/N had been so caught up in her humiliation, that she forgot about the staircase behind her and lost footing. An abrupt shout escaped her lips, helplessly flailing her arms in the air to grab onto something and a strong pair of arms had quickly caught her.

When the girl hesitantly opened an eye to analyze her seemingly unfortunate position, all she was met with, was the shine of Donnie's lustrous eyes, glinting in the bright lights of the workshop. Both were heaving breaths, adrenaline rushing from the swiftness of this occurrence.

"Thanks..." Y/N managed to squeak, trying to calm the furious blush and racing tempo of her heart at the touch of Donatello's strong arms still wrapped around her, "I think I just saw my life flash before my eyes..."

At her remark, Donnie's expression seemed to relax, and he let out a little giggle of amusement. Y/N smiled softly, and then placed the tip of her finger on the bridge of his snout, accompanied with a small 'boop!' That made him laugh even more and then a snort, something he didn't seem to proud of.

"Have I ever told you how cute you are?" She asked, rather abruptly, and the blunt question caught the turtle off guard. She wanted to smack herself across the face at the spilling of her internal conflicts but figured that doing so would cause her further embarrassment. Instead, Y/N was stuck trying to interpret Donatello's dumbstruck expression.

"E-erm, uh no. No, I don't think you've told me that..." Stupid, stupid stupid! What a response! Donnie's mind quipped, Could have at least said thank you... "Y/N..."

"Yeah, Don?"

His answer was completely wordless, just boring endlessly into her sparkling eyes. Though his next move seemed to be a more suited response.

Before he could stop himself, Donnie closed the short distance between and capturing her mouth in a short kiss, tightening the strong grasp of his forearms around her waist and back.

Y/N blinked once. Twice. And nothing shifted, though seemed completely unreal, like one of the hallucinations that she'd conjured in her mind before.

But this was just so... Real. He pulled away before Y/N could fully process what was going on, leaving her mouth to chase after his momentarily.

"You're really... U-um, Y/N I think you're beautiful. And I have this strangely romantic fascination with you..." Donnie trailed off, realizing how utterly stupid he must sound, however, the girl held tightly in his arms found it extraordinarily romantic.

Her fingers danced around the back of his neck snatched the tails of his silk bandana, and then pulled him in again, this time for a lingering address on the lips, tilting her head just slightly to deepen it. Donnie let out a short squeak of surprise, that faded into a satisfied chirp, bellowing from his throat.

They broke away, heaving puffs of air, and idiot-like grins spread across their faces.

"I really like you too Donnie."

"I'm glad," he breathed, just inches away from her face, "cause now we can work together and you don't have to hide staring at my legs."

Y/N flushed immensely before swatting his chest repeatedly, trying to hide her smile at his amused laughter.

"Donatello I will take away your pop tart privileges!"

fin💜

[angry-geese]

Sage

nanami kento x reader

warnings: none! sfw. entirely fluff, this will quite literally rot your teeth. gn!reader though there is mentions of them being pregnant. aside from that gn pronouns are used.

notes: some dad!nanami and domestic fluff

word count: 1,435

Nanami settled into being a father better than he thought he would.

You were another jujutsu sorcerer, working with Gojo at the time. Your meeting with Nanami was only by chance. The two of you bonded over bullying Gojo. Though you found him much less annoying than Nanami did, you still made it known how you didn't appreciate his antics.

Slowly you wormed your way more into his life. The two of you frequented the same bakery. Early mornings turned into getting pastries together. You offered to pay the first time. He had your order memorized. He picked up little things about you that you hadn't even noticed yourself. Nanami was observant. He didn't intend to memorize these things—he wasn't certain why he was watching you—but he did. The one day you showed up late he had your order waiting for you in his arms. Since you were still under the impression he didn't like you, it was surprising.

The next day he had your order waiting for you.

No matter how many times you offered to pay him back, he always refused. Reluctantly he enjoyed your company. Though you weren't officially partners, Gojo usually ended up sending you on the same missions. Working together turned into spending time together outside of work. Much of your free time was spent at his home, or him at yours. The two of you were inseparable.

Nanami made it known he'd never date a coworker. He was awfully vocal about his distaste for work. The last thing he'd ever want was his personal and work life crossing over. But he made an exception for you.

He realized he was too far gone when he couldn't imagine life without you.

You were always calm and collected and strong in a way he could respect. The jujutsu world was never kind to you, but you took whatever it threw at you with grace. He respected you before he liked you. But when he fell for you, he fell hard.

His confession wasn't anything grand, but he still tried to make it special. After a mission, he invited you out to dinner. The place was a bit fancier than what you usually went to. He insisted it was a special occasion.

Nanami was almost too nervous to get his confession out, but after a few drinks he managed.

To be honest, you were under the impression you were already dating.

Dating wasn't all that different from the way things were before. You were a bit more affectionate around him. You had no problems with draping yourself over his form. Or giving him a kiss without warning. Anything to bother him while he worked. You two would move in together almost instantly.

His plan always was settling down. The idea of a family was scary, but appealing. The typical life of a jujutsu sorcerer—or any normal life at that—wasn’t for him.

From the beginning he wanted kids. You did too—eventually—there was a mutual agreement on it. You weren't exactly trying for one, but you weren't trying to avoid it either. If it happened, it happened, that was your logic. The two of you were well off enough financially to care for a child.

You would find out about your pregnancy not long after.

You didn't tell Nanami for a while. While you knew he would be happy with the news, it never felt like the right moment. You wanted to surprise him with it but the moment to do so never presented itself.

Gojo—of all people—spoiled the surprise. Really it was an accident. You made an offhand comment about missing going to bars. As a joke, he asked: "what? Are you pregnant?"

There was no way you could respond without outing yourself. It was a bit embarrassing that your coworker found out before your husband. Nanami took your silence as a yes.

Upon hearing the news, he was ecstatic.

The second he could, he quit. The jujutsu world is no place for a family. He would be content with never seeing another sorcerer again.

He would hardly leave your side for the next nine months.

Nanami would tag along to each and every one of your doctors appointments. God forbid you lifted something too heavy, or were on your feet too long. He was always on your case about pushing yourself too hard. His presence was suffocating at times, but you knew he meant well. If you wanted it, all you had to do was ask and he’d bring it to you. You tried not to abuse this power too much.

The two of you decided to keep the gender a secret until your child was born.

A few months later you'd have a girl.

Eventually one of you would have to go back to work. Maternity leave wouldn't last forever. Your “normal” job paid enough to support the three of you. You weren't rich, but you made enough to live comfortably. Nanami agreed to stay home and take care of the baby.

He took to being a stay-at-home father better than he thought he would. Being a househusband was a better fit for him than any office work. A deep fear lingers in him that he’ll be a bad parent; the same doubts that any new parent has. He’s not nearly as bad as he says he is. You make sure he knows that.

"She's so little," he says, "am I doing this right?"

The idea of being responsible for such a small and fragile thing scares him.

The tiny bundle rests against his chest. A tuft of soft blonde hair is visible from under her yellow cap. Nanami smooths a hand over her head, fixing her hat. He can't stop the smile that spreads across his face and she chirps happily. Her pudgy fingers reach out and wrap around his much larger one.

"It's a baby carrier, how complicated can it be?" You ask.

The instructions look like they're written in Greek.

He notices your confused look and says a weak: "I told you"

The parts look nothing like the picture. Her baby carrier is a mess of straps and unnecessary clips. You can't tell what parts are spares, or just things you've left out.

It's oddly stressful.

Since when were these things so hard to put together?

"It looks nothing like the picture." He says.

"I mean, it doesn't look wrong." You say, a bit irritated. “As long as it keeps her in one place I think she’ll be fine.��

He fixes her hat one last time.

The walk to the bakery isn't a long one. When you two were looking for a house, you found one nearby. Nanami has your order memorized, and orders for the both of you. He’s made plenty of midnight trips to this place; you had cravings for some pretty strange things. You get your usual order of a coffee, a filled pastry, and a loaf of bread you plan on saving for breakfast tomorrow.

You gather your things and sit on a nearby bench to eat. Although it feels like such a little thing, this feels like the first time you've been out since you had the baby. Being away from work has made you both a bit stir crazy.

"You're dropping food on her head." You say.

A small "oh" leaves his mouth before he picks up the crumb, popping it into his mouth.

"Ken' that's gross."

He looks at you, then down at her, then back to you.

"Yeah."

He smooths a hand over her head. She squeals in delight, her pudgy hands outstretched. Nanami still can't get over how little she is. Months later he's still shocked that something so small is his. He acts like she's the most fragile thing on earth. Constantly you have to remind him that children are a lot more resilient than he thinks. If the baby is crying, he’s usually the first to console her. Even on nights that you offer, he refuses. He’ll stay up for hours reading to her.

He never thought he could love something so much. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, then yours. Moments like this are fleeting. He hates to get sentimental, but moments like this are fleeting. Before you know it, your kid will be all grown up and that thought terrifies him.

You lean your head against his shoulder. He almost seems surprised by it.

“We should hit that bookstore on the way back.” You offhandedly mention.

“Do you have room for more books?” He asks.

No, but you’re getting more anyway.

[merakiui]

Hello, I have a request.

Could you write zhongli or childe with an S/O who used to self harm almost everyday, and she’s so ashamed of them that she will go to great lengths to hide the scars until one day they walk in on her treating them because they were bothering her.

I recently got dumped because my s/o finally saw my scars so I just need the angsty comfort lmao

Zhongli and Childe with an S/O who Hides Their Scars

cw: past self-harm + self-harm scars note - I’m so sorry that happened to you, anon. please cheer up and know that your ex-s/o is missing out on what a wonderful person you are! 

🔶 Zhongli 🔶

You’ve always had a rough past with self-harm. Ever since you stopped a year ago, your wounds have healed into scars that you are very ashamed of.

As a result of this, you’ve gone to great lengths to keep them hidden from Zhongli. You’re worried he’d want to break up if he saw your scars and learned of your past self-harm habits. In order to preserve your relationship, you keep them hidden and you’ve been doing such a good job at it, too.

That is, until Zhongli happens to walk in on you as you’re tending to them. Your sleeves are rolled up and the bandages are off while you inspect your scars. It’s difficult to wear bandages under long sleeves, so you were going to try to use makeup to cover them up.

Zhongli is very confused, wanting to know what it is you’re doing. He sees the bandages and assumes you’re hurt. When he moves in to get a closer look, he pauses momentarily, intelligent gaze locked onto your scars.

Quickly, you do everything you can to hide your arms. “It’s not what it looks like! These are just...from long ago. It’s nothing recent, so don’t worry.”

Zhongli frowns a little. He was so certain the two of you were at a point in your relationship where you could be honest with one another without feeling uncomfortable. He’s concerned about the scars, but he won’t pry if it’s something you don’t want to talk about.

Rather than doing that, Zhongli will patiently wait for you to bring it up. And when you do he’s very attentive, listening and nodding as you explain the situation. He admits how proud he is of you for stopping that habit, but he also tells you that your scars aren’t something to be ashamed of.

“Throughout the course of one’s life, scars are bound to build up,” he says, laying his hand upon yours for an extra level of comfort. “You needn’t worry about hiding them, nor should you feel ashamed. Those scars are a part of you and while it may stem from undesirable memories it’s a reminder that you have overcome your own difficult past. Your own strength is something you should feel undeniably proud of.”

His soapbox prompts tears and you struggle to hold them in, not having expected to get emotional before your lover. “And you’re not disgusted by them? You don’t think I’m weird?” you ask, somewhat nervous to hear his answer.

“Of course not. Every part of you is a wonderful treasure I will forever cherish.” He means every word, cementing it with a soft kiss.

💧 Childe 💧

He probably has a few scars from all of his fighting, so he’s not bothered when he stumbles upon you, sitting down and poking at the scars that litter your wrists and forearms.

If anything, Childe’s curious and he wants to know how you got them. He doesn’t know anything of your past self-harm, so he assumes you simply earned those scars in a tough battle.

Childe startles you when he suddenly leans against your seated form, wrapping his arms around you in a lazy hug. He questions your scars before you can even think to cover them, and an awkward tension befalls the two of you as you struggle to come up with a proper excuse.

He senses your frantic worry and steps away, sitting in his own chair to face you properly. And then he’s all ears, waiting for you to explain why your expression is filled with fear.

Childe had no idea you struggled with self-harm in the past, and he’s very respectful as he listens to your shaky explanation. He’s quick to tell you just how strong you are for overcoming that habit, and he wants you to know that you shouldn’t be afraid of admitting these sorts of things to him.

After all, he wants you to always be honest with him. No matter how distasteful the truth is, Childe would rather face it head-on than swallow a dozen sweet lies.

“There’s no need to be so scared, sweetheart! I’m not angry or anything,” he tells you, leaning in to kiss your forehead. The endearing gesture releases some of the tension. “Besides, everyone has scars. It’s normal to want to hide them if they’re prone to bring up bad memories, but you don’t have to do that with me. I don’t mind it at all!”

“Are you sure? It’s just... Aren’t you a little grossed out about it? I mean, I used to self-harm and—“

“You used to. That’s in the past now. Look at how much you’ve improved since then!” When your posture slumps, Childe pulls you in for a reassuring hug. “There’s no need to feel so embarrassed about it. I still think you’re amazing no matter what. A few scars won’t change my perception of you.”

Your heart feels a dozen times lighter when he says that, and it allows you to feel true relief. It’s a blessing to have someone as caring and accepting as Childe, and it makes your scars seem a little more bearable.

[taetaespeaches]

“I didn’t think you’d care if I came back.”

yoongi x reader (or oc) genre: angst; fluff word count: 3.2K

a/n: Finally we have some fluff again! I mean, the angst is still here, but we’re getting to a resolution. This drabble is inspired by “this is me trying” off of Taylor Swift’s album, folklore, and it takes place after, “You know that I would ruin myself over and over again for you.” This also includes a hint of crack for some comic relief, and because where Jin and Poopsie go, crack follows. I hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading! :)) 

STEPPING into your apartment, returning home from work, your eyes scanned the small space with distaste. You dreaded coming home to your empty sofa and your empty kitchen and your very empty bed. Even more so, you hated the disappointment you felt in yourself for letting another person get so close to you that they started to feel like home.

Dropping your bag at the front door, you kicked your shoes off carelessly before making your way straight to the bathroom to take a shower. Your showers had been doubling in length, perhaps in hopes that the heat of the water would scald the past couple months right off your skin. Or maybe it was just to feel something other than the hurt.

It was just two months of your life. Why was it having such an impact? It had only been three days since Yoongi walked out, so you hoped it was just the newness of it all that had you feeling so hollow.

Yoongi was just stopping by the dorm for a change of clothes and then he was heading back to the studio. He had spent three days straight in his studio, not even returning to the dorms after leaving your place. Whereas his fans would probably think he was working hard on the second Agust D mixtape, he was mostly just sulking.

He did what was best right? You said you were ruining yourself over him. He was ruining you. So, he left. He didn’t try to work it out, he left. For you. That way, you would have a chance at happiness with someone else. Someone more suitable for you. Someone who could give you what you deserve.

Walking toward his bedroom with his overnight bag in tow, the sound of his roommate’s squeaky laughter echoed through the hallway. Yoongi was suddenly very thankful for the isolation his studio provided, as he remembered Jin saying his girlfriend was visiting family for a few days so he wouldn’t get to see her right away upon returning to Korea from Japan. She must be back now.

“I don’t care if the whole game and franchise is named after Mario, Yoshi is hands down the best character in the Mario realm, and that’s just a fact,” her ranting sounded through the closed door, Jin interrupting her with overdramatic sound effects. Yoongi’s hand was on the doorknob and he had half a mind to ignore his need for a change of clothes and escape back to his studio before anyone noticed he was there.

“There wouldn’t even be a Yoshi if it weren’t for Mario because there would be no Mario franchise,” Jin shouted back, Yoongi’s motions still stalled as he stood on the other side of the door in disbelief. Fucking Mario? Really?

With a sigh, Yoongi opened the door, clearing his throat to alert the two idiots of his presence. Jin’s head popped up off the pillows, greeting Yoongi with an, “oh, hey,” his girlfriend sitting up from her spot next to Jin on the bed.

“Oh, Yoongi, thank god you’re here,” she exclaimed, Yoongi flashing her a surprised expression. “Tell Jin that Yoshi is the best Mario character.”

“That’s ridiculous and you know it,” Jin shouted with wide eyes, his girlfriend turning to look at him. “Yoshi can be your favorite character, but you can’t argue he’s the best.”

“Why can’t I?” She complained, Yoongi quickly losing all interest as he escaped to his side of the room, separated from the bickering couple by a large bookcase.

“Because it’s not called Super Yoshi, or Yoshi Kart,” Jin informed her. Yoongi hurried around his belongings, shoving some clothes into his bag so he could get back to this studio without being dragged back into the couple’s pointless disagreement.

“You’re so annoying,” she huffed, Jin laughing at her attitude.

Zipping the bag back up, Yoongi started toward the door, anxious to get out of the dorm, away from everyone.

“Aw, but I got you something in Japan,” Jin told his girlfriend. Her silence piqued Yoongi’s interest, for reasons unknown to Yoongi, enough for him to look back. She was looking at Jin with her eyebrows raised as Jin pulled out a Yoshi figure from his pocket. “It’s Yoshi!” Yoongi watched as the girl held back a smile, trying to keep up her challenging glare. “I may disagree with you, but I support you and your poor judgement,” Jin teased the girl, lowering himself onto his knees on the bed.

“I'm in love with you, so you may be on to something with the poor judgement thing,” the girl teased right back, taking the figure before cooing at it. “It’s so cute, thank you,” she told him, Yoongi quickly exiting the room.

Part of him found the two lovers cute. A much bigger part found them annoying and gross. Shoving their love in everyone’s faces. He felt like a bitter old man as he shuffled out of the dorm angrily. Why was it that Jin could manage a relationship? How was it that Jin could have his shit together, but Yoongi couldn't? And Hoseok for that matter. Hell, even Namjoon was seeing someone. Why couldn't Yoongi do the same? Making his way out of the building, you overtook his mind. You would have called him out on being a bitter old man. “Jesus, Grampa Min, stop being so grumpy,” he could hear you saying with a giggle. You’d probably even press a kiss to his forehead, flashing him a warm smile. All anger and bitterness dissipated from his body, leaving him sad and frustrated with himself, even more so than before.

Another addition to the list of things you were growing to hate about your living space: it was cold. Bundled up in a large sweatshirt, baggy sweatpants, and colorful fluffy socks on your feet, you waited in the kitchen for your water to boil. All you wanted to do was have a cup of tea and plant yourself in front of the TV to waste away while watching the next Netflix series in your queue. Your still wet hair only made you colder, a shiver moving through your body, causing you to let out a groan.

You resisted the urge to check your phone. He surely hadn’t texted, and you didn’t feel like dealing with the pain that struck your heart every time you saw no notifications from him.

As you mindlessly played with the ends of your damped hair, a knock suddenly sounded on your door, and your heart dropped into your stomach. It had to be him. No one ever visited you at 6:30 pm on a Thursday night. You thought about not answering it, but when the knock sounded again, you convinced yourself you could be wrong. It could be someone else.

Then you caught yourself hoping it wasn't someone else.

Hesitantly, you opened the door, and if you weren’t so angry you would have cried at the sight in front of you.

Yoongi stood in your doorway, dark circles just as prominent as three days ago, eyes puffy and slightly red, one of his hands shoved into his pants pocket, the other hanging by his thigh as he held onto a bouquet of tulips.

Your eyes lingered on the flowers for a moment, not because you really cared about the gesture, but because the appearance of the man who had always been so composed before now looking so completely broken on your doorstep was almost too devastating for your heart to bear.

His eyes scanned your features desperately, though neither of you spoke. It was hard to find the words.

It felt like minutes passed by before Yoongi finally opened his mouth to say something, though he struggled to get the words out. “Kid, I-” he started, tears forming in his eyes.

“I don’t want your flowers if they come with disillusions,” you told him bitterly, holding onto your anger, despite the bubbling feeling of wanting to wrap him up in your arms.

Your eyes followed a tear as it slid off his plush cheek, the cheeks you adored so much, landing on the side of his hand. “If you want me to lay out all my mistakes right now, I will,” he told you sincerely, the comment taking you by surprise. “For starters, I shouldn’t have left. I should have fought with you, I should have stayed to finish that fight,” he said in frustration, partly to himself.

Maybe the words should have confused you, but you understood exactly what he was saying. For you both to express your frustrations with each other and with yourselves, the fight needed to happen. With Yoongi leaving, you didn’t get to the point of discussion following the anger. Instead, he walked away, as if you weren’t worth fighting with, or for.

“Why did it take you three days to come back?” You asked, a strange mixture of anger and sadness and hope swirling around your stomach.

“I didn’t think you’d care if I came back,” he admitted sadly, wiping his face with the back of his hand to get rid of the tears, the bouquet messing his fringe as it made contact with his forehead. He avoided eye contact, keeping his stare directed to your fuzzy sock-covered feet.

“Of course, I care,” you told him, taking a step back to allow him space to enter your apartment. His eyes followed the colorful fluffy material as you moved aside. “Now get in here so we can fight.”

You barely noticed the quirk in Yoongi's lip as it curved just slightly into the tiniest of smiles. He entered your apartment tentatively, and his presence already made it feel more like home again. You felt certain in that moment that no matter what room he walked into, it would feel like home.

Turning toward you, still avoiding your eyes but raising his gaze to your waist, he weakly held up the bouquet. "These are tulips," he told you dumbly, finishing the statement off with a sniffle.

You stared at him for a moment but he didn't continue. "I know," you finally said.

Another beat went by as you faced each other, a feeling of awkwardness enveloping the room. “They symbolize-" he started, just as the teapot started screaming in the kitchen.

“Hang on,” you told him, rushing to the kitchen to remove the pot from the stove, turning the burner off. For a moment, you thought about sitting in the kitchen for a moment to gather your thoughts, but with a vulnerable Min Yoongi standing just a few feet away, you found yourself hurrying back to him.  

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You asked, Yoongi looking to the side of the room.

“Tulips symbolize-”

"Yoongi,” you breathed out. “I don't care about the flowers right now, what are you doing here?" You cut him off, getting straight to the point.

"I want to fix this," he told you sincerely, lifting his gaze to meet yours.

You shrugged. "And how?" He stared at you for a moment, so you decided to continue. "I'm sick of feeling like I'm not wanted."

Yoongi quickly negated the comment, shaking his head. "I always want you."

"Then why do I feel unwanted by you?" Your volume raised as you asked the question, Yoongi appearing to hold his breath for a moment. Letting it out in a shaky breath, he looked back to your feet. "You say you want me but your actions say different, Yoongi. And you can't tell me how I feel, I feel unwanted."

"I'm sorry," he apologized quietly, lifting his gaze to meet your eyes. "I'm not trying to tell you how you feel, I'm just coming to terms with the fact that I made you feel that way," his voice broke.

"I don't want to hold this over your head, and I don't want you beating yourself up for it," you told him. "I just want you. But if I can't have you and feel good about myself and us, then I need to you to leave and I need you to stay gone." Speaking the words added cracks to your heart, but it also lifted a weight off your shoulders.

"I deal with a lot of shit," he suddenly said, your eyebrows pulling together in confusion. "Mentally. And that mixed with my work- I'm afraid of putting you through hell just because I'm selfish and want you," he told you with tears in his eyes. That’s what he’s afraid of? Putting his burdens on you? "I get so stuck in my head and I was in Japan and all I could think of was you and,” he sighed, looking into your eyes. “Fuck, Kid, I wanted to call you every moment I was gone. But that's for me, what am I giving you?" He shrugged hopelessly.

"You," you told him, your tears threatening to fall. "You're giving me you."

"And what's that worth?" His question shattered your heart. What's that worth?

"Baby, that's worth everything to me," you told him. "When you’re actually giving yourself to me, I feel more like myself. I feel braver and happier and-" looking back at the bouquet in his hands, you asked, "why tulips?"

He stalled for a moment, surprised by the question. "Right now?" Nodding at him, you bit back a grin. A faint smile appeared on his face, scoffing at himself. "Tulips can mean rebirth and forgiveness and true love, and I'm not saying we're in love,” he quickly backtracked. “I mean not yet, but we could be some day, and," he spoke slow but he was lost in his words, panicking over bringing up love, and the sight of him trying to find his way was enough to make you crack a smile. His speech faded out as he watched your face brighten just the slightest bit, a blush overtaking his plush cheeks. "I don't know what the fuck flowers mean, I don't know what I'm doing."

"That much is obvious," you teased, Yoongi letting out a single breathy chuckle at the comment.

"All I know how to do is care about you, Kid," he shrugged.

Tears forming in your eyes at his confession, you shook your head. "Then care about me."

"I'm trying," he told you, staring into your eyes. For a man who usually avoided eye contact, you were surprised by the sincerity he was trying to convey as he held your gaze. "I really am trying."

"I know," you nodded. And he was.  

"I wanted to protect you from me," he added, his orbs scanning your face. "But fuck, Kid, I can't stay away from you." You watched him thoughtfully as he spoke. "But when I saw the hurt in your face-" he paused to compose his emotions. "When you said you thought I left that morning," he shook his head. "That's when I first realized what I was doing to you."

"But you don't have to do that to me," you reminded him. "You don't have to protect me from you, I've told you I'm prepared to be with you regardless of your lifestyle and your work." Yoongi stared at you as you spoke, and you cocked your head at him. "I'm ok with the time apart and the late-night dates and the days where we can only fit a few texts in.”

“But are you ok with me? And everything that comes with me?” He asked. He was really asking, he needed the assurance.

“Of course, I am,” you told him definitively. “I want all of you. You don’t need to wear this mask around me, you don’t need to shield me from you. And you’re not the only one with demons,” you told him. “I want you and everything that comes with you. I’m just not ok with feeling like I'm always about to lose you."

"Baby," he whispered.

"I can't keep being afraid that every time you walk out the door, you might not come back," you whimpered, a tear falling down your cheek. "I need assurance too, I need to know you're in this with me as much as I am with you." Yoongi nodded quickly.

"If you want me here, I'm here," he assured you, sincerity coating his words.

"I want you here," you told him. Yoongi suddenly tossed the bouquet onto the table before approaching you. His arms wrapped around your body before you could react, your arms slowly folding over him, holding him close to you as he buried his face in your hair. You felt a kiss on the top of your head, your body responding by relaxing against his frame, turning your face to nuzzle it against his neck. "I'm sorry for the shit I said," you mumbled against his cool skin, still slightly cold from the night air.

"Don't apologize," he whispered into your hair.

"I didn't mean the mean shit," you added, Yoongi chuckling at the obvious pout on your lips.

"You were hardly mean, Kid," he told you, pulling away just a bit to look down at you with a soft smile, his eyes glistening in emotion.

“Well, I’ll never mean the mean shit,” you said with a small smile.

"I missed you,” he told you as he wiped the fallen tears off your cheeks.

"I missed you too," you whispered. “We were supposed to fight, you know,” you added teasingly.

“That wasn’t a fight?” He questioned in feigned surprise. “We still can if you want,” he playfully responded, his eyes widened humorously.

“You came in here trying to explain flower symbolization and I just couldn’t get mad at you,” you giggled, Yoongi smiling adorably just before pushing his lips to yours, giving you a sweet kiss. Before you could deepen it, he pulled away again.

"Yoshi or Mario?"

"What?” You questioned in utter confusion. “Min, I'm trying to make out with you," you complained with a look of dissatisfaction, Yoongi smiling fondly at the expression. With a sigh, you said, "Yoshi, obviously, what do you think I am, an idiot?" Yoongi laughed fully at the comment, his shoulders shaking as he flashed you that adorable gummy smile you were so obsessed with. "Why?" you asked through a small laugh, "what about you?"

"Honestly, I could not care less," he smiled, now your turn to laugh.

"I love that about you," you told him through your big grin.

"My roommate, Jin, thinks Mario is better," he told you, you raising your eyebrows in response. "I think you should come by the dorm to put him in his place. Maybe meet all the other guys too?"

You smiled widely as you nodded. "I'd love to," you said softly, Yoongi nodding before leaning in to kiss you again. "I mean, for Yoshi's honor," you whispered right before his lips pressed to yours.

"Of course," he giggled against your mouth. Pulling back just slightly, Yoongi stared at you for a moment, his eyes appreciating your every feature slowly, taking his time, as you did the same with him. Wrapping his arms around the back of your neck, he tugged you closer to him to hold you against his body once again. "Jin's a moron but remind me to thank him one of these days," he whispered against your temple.

"I will," you giggled. "But for what?"

"For having his shit together."

[fruitcoops]

I usually don't like angsty stuff but I love it with a happy ending and I've been THINKING....

O'Knutzy... one of the boys, let's say Logan, has a nightmare where Finn tells him he doesn't love him anymore and because of that the relationship between the three doesn't work anymore and he loses both of them.

But than he wakes up they cuddle and kiss and everything is fine

This was a rough one to write, but very cathartic. O’Knutzy credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for night terrors, crying, and insecurity

Logan wakes up in a bed, and he is alone. Once upon a time, this would not have been unusual, but for the past five months—six? Seven? Leo always teases me for forgetting our anniversary—he has greeted the morning with two warm bodies next to him, their steady breaths easing his mind.

Logan is…cold, this time. He hates being cold. “Peanut?” he calls when he hears sounds from outside the bedroom. “Finn?”

The rustling doesn’t stop; nobody responds. He frowns and clambers out of bed, stretching his back and reaching for one of the many, many hoodies that usually lay crumpled on the chair in their room. Logan stops dead in his tracks when he sees only two there, and both are his own. Panic spikes in his chest. “Mes amours? Where are you?”

“I told you not to wake him up,” Finn whispers harshly. Logan frowns and walks out, nearly tripping over the multitude of cardboard boxes lining the hall. His boys are in the living room, packing the blanket Leo’s mother made for them for Christmas.

“What’s going on?” Logan asks warily as he steps over a box labeled ‘clothes—Finn’. “Why are you packing our things?”

“We’re leaving,” Finn says. His voice is devoid of emotion and he looks at Logan with utter contempt. He feels as if he has been doused in ice water and then set aflame.

“What?” He glances at Leo, who shuffles awkwardly. “Where are we going?”

“Not you.” Leo looks up at him, and his beautiful blue eyes are like chips of ice. “Just us.”

Logan is drowning, he’s sure of it. He is suffocating on the dark cloud of fear and agony that billows from the place his lungs used to be. “No.”

“Yes.” Finn rips a piece of packing tape off the roll and Logan flinches.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

Logan’s legs give out and he sits down hard on the floor, barely registering the flash of pain. “But—”

“No.” Finn’s face is twisted and furious all of a sudden, and Logan is almost grateful—at least there is something left of the passionate, bleeding-heart boy that he loves with everything in his fucking body instead of that mask from before. “No, Logan, you don’t get to keep us here. I don’t love you.”

“But you do.” His voice is feeble even to his own ears. “You said it when you kissed me goodnight. Peanut-“

“Don’t call me that,” Leo says quietly. Logan’s heart snaps in half.

“Please.” He doesn’t know what he’s begging for anymore. An explanation, maybe, or just for them to stay. “Please.”

“This is your fault,” Finn continues as he opens a new box. “If you had just talked about your feelings, we wouldn’t have to do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Logan chokes out as the first tears start to fall. “You hate being told what to do.”

“You don’t know me—”

“I do know you!” Logan shouts. It rings throughout the apartment, along with his ragged breaths. “I know you better than anyone. You’re Finn O’Hara, Harzy, my best friend, my Finn—”

“I’m not your anything.”

“Leo, please tell me what’s going on.” Logan turns to Leo and sees almost nothing on his face. For the first time he can remember, that shining sunlight is dim.

“Finn doesn’t love you. I’m going with him.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t stand being around you.” Exasperation laces Leo’s tone, as if he’s speaking to a child. “The only reason I was with you is because Finn was there.”

Some horrible, strangled noise rips out of Logan’s throat and he covers his mouth with his hands. This is what dying feels like, he thinks. This is it. “Don’t do this,” he pleads, little more than a whisper. “Please don’t.”

Finn opens his mouth, looking straight at him with those hard brown eyes, and Logan knows what he’s about to say. “Good—”

Logan wakes up in a bed, and he’s not alone. A cut-off shout escapes him as he scrambles out of the blankets that threaten to drag him back under and his foot connects with something warm that grunts, reaching out toward him. “No!”

The floor is unforgiving as he falls onto it and shoves himself back against the wall, shaking from head to toe as the beginnings of a scream accompany every shallow breath. “Logan?”

A sob, clogged and gross, tears from his throat and he puts his forehead on his knees. “I’m so sorry,” he blubbers.

“Holy fuck, Lo. Leo, wake up.” More shuffling sounds come from the bed and a sleepy voice murmurs something, confused. “Leo, wake up.”

Two gentle hands rest on his shoulders and Logan thrashes away. “Get off me!”

“Hey, shhhh, it’s me.” The voice is terrified, he can tell. But it is so achingly soft. “Lo baby, it’s just me.”

“F—F—” He can’t even get the name out as more tears pour down his face. Someone slides off the bed and kneels next to him, a dark shadow.

“It’s me,” Finn says again, running his hands down Logan’s arms. “It’s your Finn. Leo’s here, too.”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry.” He balls up tighter, digging his fingers into his thighs. “I’m so sorry, just please don’t leave.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Leo murmurs, still accented from sleep. Logan makes a noise like a wounded animal and a third hand comes to brush the sweat-damp hair off his forehead. “What’s wrong, Lo?”

“You’re leaving.”

“What?”

“You’re leaving,” he repeats, voice cracking with grief. “You’re leaving and I’m sorry.”

“We’re not leaving,” Finn says. A solid weight presses against the length of his side and an arm comes to rest over his back. “See? We’re both right here for you. You had a nightmare, baby.”

Logan only sobs harder; in his mind’s eye, Finn is still glaring at him with that stonelike distaste as Leo watches him weep with no reaction. “Can you tell us what it was about?” Leo’s hands are broad and warm on the sides of his legs, even through the fabric of his sweatpants.

“You—you don’t—” Logan takes a few gulping breaths. “You don’t love me anymore.”

There is a small, punched-out exhale from Leo and a shuddering gasp from Finn. “That’s not true.” Finn sounds like he’s crying. “That is not true, Logan.”

He shakes his head. “You said it so many times. So many.”

“Look at me, Lo,” Leo says, smoothing Logan’s hair back. “Please look at me.”

Come on, Tremblay, you can do it. He sniffles and raises his head just enough to see over his knees; Leo’s got heartbreak written all over his face as he carefully wipes Logan’s cheeks dry with the heels of his hands. Logan can’t bear to look at Finn right now. His chest still hurts too much. “Please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Leo promises. Even in the low light of the streetlamps through their window, he glows. “I love you too much to do that. It was just a nightmare, okay? None of that was real.”

A shiver rolls through Logan again and Finn’s arm tightens around him. “It felt real, and it hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” Leo kisses his forehead. “You’re cold. Do you want to go back to bed?”

A slender hand comes into Logan’s periphery and touches Leo on the arm, light as a feather. “Logan, please look at me,” Finn says. Logan squeezes his eyes shut. I can’t. “Please.”

“I asked you to stay.” His voice is broken glass, each word tearing his throat. “I asked you to stay and you looked me in the eyes and told me you didn’t love me. You hated me.”

“Logan, please.” Finn sounds miserable and Logan can hear the tears in his voice as he finally turns. His eyes are so bright, so wide, so Finn as two small rivers form on his cheeks. Bambi, he thinks. “I love you so much, Logan. I would never, ever say that to you.”

Logan’s lower lip wobbles and he leans his head against Finn’s shoulder, prying one hand off his leg to pull Leo close as well. “I know. I know. It wasn’t you.”

That is one thing he is sure of, one thing he would swear in front of God and every angel. Those cold caricatures in his nightmare were wrong on a deep, deep level—Leo radiates kindness. Finn looks at him with nothing but love. Their other selves were the exact opposite of everything Logan adores about his boys.

“Are you going to be alright?” Leo asks as he places a light kiss to Logan’s temple. “We don’t have to go to sleep if you don’t want to.”

“I’m so tired.”

“Okay.” None of them make an effort to stand.

He knows Finn and Leo are having a silent conversation and nuzzles against Finn’s warm collarbone, pulling Leo’s arm up to kiss his wrist. “Can I be in the middle?”

That draws a light laugh from both of them. “Yeah, Lo, you can be in the middle,” Finn says, getting to his feet on wobbly legs and hauling them both up with him. They collapse into bed again, dragging the covers up to their shoulders.

“I feel like a panini,” Logan mutters as they squish him between their chests. There is a moment of silence before they break down laughing and a series of kisses find their homes on his face and back; he wraps an arm around Finn’s chest and presses into Leo’s steady warmth. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Lo.”

“Love you, baby.” Finn shifts closer and sighs against him. “And that will never change.”

[breadbrioche]

➵ Gokudera Hayato x GN! Reader

➵ Word Count: 568

➵ Warnings: mint choco slander, mild swearing

➵ A/N: I’m on a khr writing high and I feel invincible lol I feel like Gokudera seems the type to absolutely loathe mint ice cream so this was created

“Oh.” Gokudera exclaimed with distaste as he peered at the waffle cone in your hand as you sat down in your seat. “You’re one of those freaks.”

Upon hearing his words, your eyes widened with horror.

“Fucking excuse me?” You said while making direct contact with Gokudera.

“You heard me.” He said coolly. “People who eat mint chocolate chip are freaks of nature.”

You couldn’t explain it, but his comment really rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps it was the crude nature of his language or the fact how he casually dug into his own dessert without any care - either way, Gokudera offended you. Because of this, you did what any person would do.

Swiftly you kicked his shin harshly which made his leg jerk up, knee crashing into the underside of the table. The boy squawked in pain, dropping the spoonful of his peanut butter ice cream on the table’s metallic surface and demanded your intentions with that move you pulled.

“Mint chocolate chip is just as valid as any other ice cream flavour!” You almost shouted. He shot you an unconvinced look.

“According to who? That shit is almost as gross as my sister’s cooking. They’re both that sickly green colour too, for fucks sake!”

“I’ll have you know that there are many people who like mint chocolate chip!” You deflected.

Gokudera scoffed at your accusation. “Like who?”

“Uhhh…Yamamato does! And so does Ryohei! Yeah see! A lotta people like it.”

“As if they count - they’re weird in their own rights.”

You groaned before stabbing the top scoop of your ice cream cone and ate the green ice cream frustratedly. “Now you aren’t even making a proper excuse for why you don’t like it. I’ve seen you eat mints and chocolate - so why won’t you eat ‘em together?”

He huffed before putting his tub of ice cream down on the table.

“Look. You eat mints to make your breath smell good and you eat chocolate because it’s sweet. When you turn the mint into ice cream then add the chocolate chips, you’re basically just eating fuckin’ toothpaste with weird lumps in it.” He explained aggressively while gesturing with his small spoon at you.

The way your face scrunched at the eloquence of his argument brought great joy to Gokudera. He smirked when you said nothing to further your point and just silently dug into your disgusting dessert, taking it as a sign of his victory.

“Yknow,” Gokudera began with his mouth full. “I dunno why you always try to pick such petty fights with me when I always end up wi-“

“You owe me money now.” You cut him off suddenly.

“What the FUCK? HOW?” He screamed before choking on his food. He hastily covered his mouth with a tissue while his eyes conveyed his anger, confusion and disbelief.

“I don’t agree with how you kept slandering my mint chocolate chip so I want the money that I used to pay for your ice cream back.” You made grabby hands at the air towards him but he lightly slapped it away.

“You can’t do that!” The boy denied.

“Yes I can; I just did too.” Your lips twitched upwards slightly.

“You’re just upset that you couldn’t-“

“I don’t think you're in the place to talk right now.” You stated teasingly as you reached over and grabbed his tub and ate what was left in it.

“Wha- HEY!”

[wincore]

vixen | nakamoto yuta

pairing: kitsune!yuta x female!reader

words: 5.1k 

summary: every year, you visit the fox who claims to know everything about you. 

genre: fantasy/folklore, fluff, angst(?)

warnings: suggestive, mention of past bullying, one excessively flirty nakamoto yuta

song rec(s): clear and sunny - sou (cover)

a/n: this is for all you furries who aren’t quite furries yet muah (im joking) but aaaa love exploring folklore and also i should put in a disclaimer that not every aspect adheres to the original tales of the kitsune <3 i did not proofread btw and i am very sorry

Some things never change.

Examples: boys, shitty friends, death, and the scent of nostalgia. To you, that very scent happens to be the earthy smell of chrysanthemums and a faint waft of spices from the kitchen in your parents’ house. To you, October is not just another month. To you, there is one more thing that never changes and it is not your belief in old ghost stories. 

Around this time of the year, the autumn festival begins in a flurry of vibrant red smudges and a whiff of excitement, in streets suddenly brought alive. The skies are candied orange, and it’s the only time you aren’t tired of home. This time is also when you find yourself right in the clutches of the one demon you swore you’d avoid for the rest of your life. You swore. It’s not your fault that said demon is a little, let’s say, tempting. 

Tempting in the most vexing, infuriating way possible. Bewitching, cruel, seducing—all that foxes are and all that you’ve heard of them could not have prepared you for an encounter. Folklore runs deep through you. The memories of a certain fox-boy run deeper. 

It is not the festival you are here for. 

You yawn, leaning against the wooden door frame of the shop. It would be inappropriate to fall asleep on the job, especially since there are a bunch of children staring idly at you. You close your mouth quickly, resting the back of your hand against your lips. Late afternoon is an easy time to fall asleep. You have half the mind to snarl at the kids to scare them off, their gaze getting on your nerves and when you think you will, you turn the other way. Manners come first to you, no matter how temperamental you get. 

The procession has gathered a crowd. Some shouts and squeals from the children make you slump further. At least they’re having fun with whatever stupid game they’re playing. You breathe in the autumn air. A part of you wonders if you simply let your feet lead you down the stairs, you’d be free of this entire ordeal. You shake your head. Temptation has always been hard to resist—never meant to be resisted but you’re much older now. There is dignity to be answered.

October is mild—your grandmother’s shop is still on the verge of collapse, your mother still yells at you for misplacing kitchen utensils and your old friends from school still gossip about who you’re dating. It’s like the script never changes; people change the meaning, twist their words in the same old pattern. If you were a little less behaved, you would have poured your drink over their heads yesterday. 

You clench your jaw. It’s always an ‘Oh, you’re so attractive’ and an ‘I wish I could date as many men as you do but I’m loyal to my boyfriend’, or even a ‘Must be nice being surrounded by boys all the time’. You know what they mean. It’s not the first time you’ve been called a fox, and you don’t think it’ll be the last—at least until you decide to stop letting your hometown suffocate you. Maybe you’ll accept what they say. You have heard of what hatred left unchecked can do.

If you’re honest, you haven’t been with too many men. If you’re a little more honest, none of them have ever made your heart race.

You watch the children play with a keen eye, their painted masks ridiculously large for their faces and in brightly coloured clothes contrasting well with the town. You might not be allowed to fall asleep, but there’s nothing against closing your eyes for a second or two.

The image of glinting yellow eyes and a fanged smile pop up and you quickly open your eyes. You don’t know why your heart beats so loud at the mere thought of him, thoughts in which his lips are full and painted red, and his bright smile is stretched upon them. Sometimes, the thought of him is in gentle washes, his hand fixing your hair, or a flirty smile when you dare stumble upon him on a particularly sleepless night. You shake your head to get rid of the thought. That is not love. Some sort of embarrassing attraction, maybe. However, the friendship you have is worse.

“I see you’re a slacker as always.”

Your grandmother’s voice breaks you out of your cycle of thoughts and you’re almost grateful.

“I sold approximately zero sweets,” you snort. “Why can’t we just do away with the shop?”

“You’re starting to sound like your mother,” your grandma calls from behind one of the counters, distaste ringing clear in her voice. 

You sigh. “Fine, but… you work way too hard to make these for them to not sell.”

“Maybe they would sell if a certain little lady would stay and help.”

You groan, leaning your head back. “You know I have work in the city.”

Your grandmother waves her hand about, dismissing your reasoning. She fiddles around in the shadows for a bit before coming forward with more boxes than she should be able to hold.

“You don’t have to feel too guilty. Yuta’s been helping out,” your grandmother informs fondly. “You could learn a thing or two from him.”

You’re not the superstitious sort and yet still, your heart beats faster. For him, or for the bad omens foxes bring to a household—you don’t know.

You scoff instead. “He’s not as great a guy as you think, grandma. He can be really mean too!”

“Oh, I doubt that. Have you seen his smile? Impossible.” Your grandmother waves it off before drawing nearer, voice hushed without reason. “Have you thought about it then? He is handsome, isn’t he?”

“Grandma.”

You’re not sure what old women go through in their youth that makes them something of a matchmaker in their later years. You think the whole ordeal is messed up. There is no way you’re going to stick your nose into your grandchildren’s love life; it’s gross.

“These should be enough for the children, no?” Your grandmother asks and you look up.

“You’re giving them away for free?” you question, furrowing your eyebrows. “And you talk about bad business.”

She places her hand on her hip, pointing an accusatory finger. “You’re going to lecture your grandmother?”

You raise your hands up in defeat, standing up to help her with the red boxes of acorn candy and paper wraps of roasted chestnuts. You end up with the entire load in your arms, your grandmother happily shuffling about as she locks up the store.

You turn sharply at the surprised sound behind you. The evening has settled in and glowing lanterns bring forward the evidence, the darkening streets flooding with round droplets of light.

But it is not the festival you are looking at.

Yuta looks somewhat serene, your cheeks heating up despite yourself. You look at him with bated breath, hoping the boxes obscure your face enough to make the vaguely positive emotions less evident. The dark red jacket draped over his shoulder does not look out of place—in fact, he fits in so well you would’ve mistaken him for another face in the crowd if he weren’t stupidly gorgeous. He looks at you with no strong emotion in the eyes before breaking into a smile; and when his hand strokes the top of your head as a greeting, he seems fond. He always does.

“Grandma,” he calls with his best smile, turning to the old woman.

Your grandmother doesn’t need any more convincing of his character. 

“Oh, there you are! Did I tell you (name)’s back? I wanted to break the news to you earlier. Ah���I must have forgotten.”

You glance from Yuta to her. Is this another one of her tricks and tests?

“She’s always here this time of the year,” he responds, laughing politely.

“Ah, you remembered,” she says, eyes crescent as she smiles back. “Help her with the boxes. The city has made her so frail.”

“I’m good,” you choke on the words, hurriedly moving away and almost dropping one of the boxes.

You slip on your sandals and scurry off faster, wishing he’d just stay behind. He always has. The air makes you shiver but you’re adamant; and it’s not the only trait of yours to make relationships fail.

“You know, you should be nicer to old friends.”

You try not to react when Yuta takes the boxes from you, matching your pace almost effortlessly.

“I thought foxes ran away once they’re found out,” you snap, reluctantly letting him take the packages.

Yuta rolls his eyes. “I see you still aren’t very fond of me.”

“Not when you’re tricking my grandmother like this,” you hiss.

“You call helping trickery?” he retaliates.

“Foxes bring bad business,” you mutter.

“I’m the reason your grandmother’s business is somewhat above the water.”

You sigh, exasperated. There’s no point in wasting your breath. You look away, crossing your arms as you walk, the silence between the two of you suddenly awkward. Even so, you’re not going to open your mouth for him.

“Would you two slow down?” your grandmother calls, voice weary. “We’re already there.”

The two of you halt in your tracks immediately, taking mellow steps back to her. She looks over the two of you with furrowed eyebrows and you try to think of an explanation when she starts laughing.

“Oh, I don’t mind the two of you flirting,” she says, littered with slow laughter. “Just make sure the food is where it’s supposed to be.”

You’re about to refute when Yuta laughs, the sound still boyish and lively. “Of course. (name) missed me so much this year, she couldn’t help herself.”

You give him a pointed look which he ignores, deliberately or not. “We- I wasn’t—”

“Grandmother, if you’ll give us permission,” he interrupts, settling the packages on the table by the food stall and smiling wide. “We’ll go enjoy the festival now.”

She bobs her head in affirmation and Yuta grabs your hand to pull you into the bustling street, your silent plea for help ignored by your smug grandmother.

“What are you doing?” you ask, slipping your hand from his. “You aren’t- You aren’t trying to eat my liver, are you?”

“Why the liver? Can’t I have the rest of you too?”

It’s not like you were particularly alarmed but his response makes you feel a flush of embarrassment.

“It’s been a year since I last saw you,” he says before his voice turns a shade cooler. “Have you thought about my proposal?”

You fall silent. The overthinking started last year too. Your thoughts and dreams, so easily pervaded by him and all it took was one sentence. 

“We should get married.”

“Why did you even think I’d agree to that?” You try not to get too flustered. He knows all your petty weaknesses and you’d rather not have them on display for him to stare and pick at. “What the fuck would I get out of marrying you?”

Yuta whistles. “I like your tongue. But—yes, to answer your question, you’d get a very handsome and capable husband. Your bed will always be warm and oh, speaking of beds—”

You clamp your hand over his mouth at the suggestive look he sends, worried about being spotted by one of your school friends. Ah, right—friends, the very same people that smell of jealousy and won’t miss any opportunity to throw a jab your way. Friends. You can’t believe you’re still afraid of their judgement.

“And why do you want to get married to me?” you ask, looking into his eyes.

There’s a pause, filled with the chatter of the crowd.

“You look like you’re afraid of finding someone,” he speaks finally, ignoring your question. “Or is it the other way around?”

You roll your eyes, ready to walk off when he grabs your wrist to pull you closer to his chest. It draws some looks from nearby people, your eyes darting from face to face in fear. You take a deep breath and look at Yuta again, almond eyes distracting. 

“People will think we’re lovers,” you whisper, almost a hiss.

“What’s wrong with that?”

You breathe out in disbelief. “You’re really something.”

“What? Why did you always come to meet me then? Behind the keyaki tree?”

“It wasn’t for you,” you lie quickly. “I had nothing better to do.”

Pining after a fox? You could never have feelings for him. Even so, your answer comes off childish and silly, and somehow he’s the only one to be able to draw that side of you—the you that is messy and unprepared.

Yuta smiles in return. “You think people can’t fall in love with us the same way they fall in love with most everything.”

It’s a statement, not a question.

“How conservative of you,” he leaves with an airy remark, but not before urging you to follow him.

The sizzling sound of food being fried and the knocking, clicking sound of children playing games, all these forgotten sounds grow louder and for a second, if only you let yourself, you could close your eyes and it would be just like your first date. 

No. It’s different. You look up, eyes trailing over Yuta’s back, his golden hair, how his figure moves with ease and confidence.

It is different.

You raise an eyebrow at the box of takoyaki Yuta shoves towards you, an expecting look across his face.

“You like this, don’t you?” he asks, an uncharacteristic hesitation in his voice.

You hum in response, taking the box from him and saving yourself the trouble of asking whether he paid for it or simply charmed his way through. 

“Eh, no thank you?” he complains. “How polite.”

You scrunch your nose to accompany an exaggerated smile and he laughs, the two of wandering over the asphalt streets. Your hands are close enough to brush—and if a twenty-something year-old woman can feel jittery because of it, hands truly are meant to share warmth. The smell of candy and caramel fills the air, making you smile. You’ve saved enough for the taste of home, you think. 

The taste of home. 

Inevitably, the thought of kissing your companion crosses your mind and you stop in your tracks. Whatever. It must be natural when someone as attractive is beside you. Those aren’t feelings. You curse yourself for feeling like a teenager again.

The festival grounds aren’t as shabby as you expect them to be. The city,—if you could call this one—stops here and the earth spreads out to the forest behind. The crowd also thins, and you take a fresh breath. They’re selling old books in the corner, but no one seems to be there.

“The raccoon dogs,” Yuta whispers in your ear, with an arcane smile. “Want to visit those rascals?”

You roll your eyes. He knows you’ve heard one too many folktales for a lifetime, seen one too many. It’s time to go home, especially now that the thought of thanking him crosses your mind. You’re about to turn when your shoulder crashes into someone else’s. A surprised, syrupy smile greets you, which you cannot return for the first few moments. Yui’s smile wavers and you flash her a quick smile. A friend. Her arm is looped through her lover’s, the one she never shuts up about and suddenly the urge to pour water over her head returns.

Yuta glances from you to her before pressing his lips together, as if suppressing laughter. You’re almost offended when Yui laughs flippantly.

“You’re on a date too? I knew you couldn’t stand spending the festival alone,” she says, tugging her lover closer. 

People have always told you who you are and what you do. As if they know better.

You smile awkwardly. “It’s… actually not—”

“Oh, don’t be shy.” She gently pats your shoulder before leaning in. “He’s a real catch. As expected from you. You can never leave the boys alone.”

You know what she really means. You’ve heard the same words in high school when she was shoving you into a wall behind the school. The sickening smile is still on her face.

You gulp, feeling sixteen again. The lack of people around somehow makes it more awkward and you’re about to excuse yourself when suddenly, Yuta bumps into Yui and his warm drink spills over her left shoulder. Your eyes widen, more in confusion. When did he leave? You don’t doubt his ability to sneak past people, but surely you couldn’t have been so enraptured in your own feelings that you barely noticed.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuta says, voice honeyed with surprise.

Yui looks like she’s about to explode when she looks at him, her expression dropping to a calmer one almost immediately.

It’s an easy look to recognize. They always have it when they first meet Yuta, whether it’s the smile that’s too dazzling or the pretty round eyes. 

How persuasive, those eyes.

“Ah… I must have not seen you,” she says faintly, and Yuta’s smile widens.

Before he can stir up more trouble, you slip your arm into his and pull him away, not caring for another polite apology to an old, almost nameless face.

“I was having fun,” Yuta complains, voice still smug and calm.

You glare at him and it only seems to add fuel to the fire, to whatever cold fire dances at his fingertips. 

“You’re happy, right? Don’t look at me like that. You should reward me.”

You don’t respond, looking away and hoping to get at least a word in about how troublesome he is every single time you visit. Yuta has other plans, however. Leaning his head to look you in the eye, he maintains a distance which looks perfectly decent but feels less than so.

“How about a kiss? I deserve one, don’t I?” He moves his head closer to yours, making you shy away.

You grab him by the belt and pretend to not catch a glimpse of the pleased look on his face as you drag him into a secluded part by the forest.

It’s quieter here, so much that you can almost hear your own heart drumming in your chest, and the faint light of the distant festival grounds doesn’t help much at all. It’s dark as dusk, and you can only make out Yuta’s jawline and a faint smirk over his lips. You think that if a fox ever wanted to eat your liver, this would be the perfect spot.

“You did something,” you finally utter the words. “You did something to me.”

“Why do you think I did something? Do you mean love?” he responds with a cheeky smile. “This means you’ve been thinking about me? How cute—”

“Yuta, stop it,” you warn. 

“Or what? You should stop me yourself.”

You grab the lapels of his jacket, the cloth bunching as your knuckles turn white. The anger you feel isn’t the first of its kind—it’s just a little funny how it’s always Yuta every time, making you remember the burning feeling time and time again. You find yourself unable to respond. 

“Oh, don’t hold back,” he provokes, leaning in.

You push at his chest in exasperation, but he grabs your wrists before you can retract your hands.

“Scared?” he whispers.

You pull apart anyway, a scowl over your lips. “You’re as annoying as ever. Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“Ooh! Sharp claws. You’d be lovely as my fox-bride.” he teases. 

Your face flares with heat. “I’m not your… I’m not a fox.”

“I didn’t say a fox, I said—”

“I know what you said,” you snap, massaging your wrist so you don’t have to look at him.

Yuta falls quiet for a moment, voice lower when he speaks again.

“Is it so nasty to be called a fox? There are worse things, you know.”

You scoff, growing increasingly annoyed. “Of course you’d say that. I hate it. I hate this town. I hate foxes and I hate you.”

Yuta places a hand over his chest, gasping with no emotion. Your eyes linger over his long, painted nails a little longer before you meet his eyes. A part of you regrets saying the words but you couldn’t help it. The shroud choking your hometown makes you want to scream at the top of your lungs every time you’re here. You hate this place.

But you don’t hate him, after all. 

You try to clear yourself of the thought. A gentle gust of wind brings you back to the present, Yuta still glancing at you with no giveaway to what he’s feeling.

“You wouldn’t make a terrible fox though,” he says, eyes sharp. “Don’t they know you’re a vixen already? How many livers will you eat?”

You suck in a breath, tears stinging at your eyes. However, it’s not like you to get so easily affected by him. No. No, somehow that doesn’t make sense either. Those words do hurt from Yuta and you’re not sure if it’s just because he's the only one you didn’t expect them from.

“You…”

“What? Aren’t you going to lash at me again? You’re so predictable.”

His voice is calm despite your obvious annoyance and you feel flames lick at your heart. Your hand moves before you can think, about to meet his cheek when he grabs your wrist. You struggle, trying to pull free but to no avail and you use the other hand to hit him in the chest. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t bother him and that same feline smile curves up his lips.

You feel something you haven’t before, a warm growl at the pit of your stomach.

You push with all your strength, catching Yuta off guard and he stumbles backward but not before pulling you into him. Consequently, either of you lose footing and land on the grass with a sudden thud, Yuta’s side pressed against yours. His hands still clutch your wrist, and he shifts to hover over you.

“We used to wrestle like this as a litter,” he says, erupting into full laughter. “Ah, memories. I don’t even know if they’re alive or dead now.”

Yuta is much stronger than he looks, and he’s taken your tantrum as a source of amusement much to your infuriation. He has your hands pinned back, eyes unaffected as he scans over your face. You try to shift but there’s just too much weight on you. You breathe slowly, chest rising and falling in time with his. His earrings sway gently in the wind, dangling a few inches above you—he’s pretty, so pretty. Admitting defeat has never been your forte but now that your senses are gathering again, you feel a flush of embarrassment for losing your temper. 

Or perhaps, it is something else when you register the lack of distance between your noses.

“Playtime’s over,” Yuta coos. “You’re kinda cute when you’re losing.”

He tilts his head, an adoring smile over his lips. For a moment, they’re all you see.

Can a fox comfort you? Can a fox make you feel loved on the darkest of nights? Your mind races with questions your heart does not want to answer. 

Yuta leans in to close the distance and despite every nerve in your body, you turn your head away. You can hear him gulp, the following moments painfully quiet before he gets up. Your breath is soft and shallow, lying on the ground till you get enough courage to sit up. 

You almost gasp. His tails are clearer under the dim moonlight, all nine of them golden and luxurious. The light hitting his face isn’t any less flattering and once again you are reminded of how handsome he is, fairytale or not. 

Yuta looks uncomfortable, and that’s a first for you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you don’t know why.

He waves his hand dismissively, annoyed.

“Yuta,” you take a step forward.

“I see the way you look at me,” he says quietly, “Is it not want?”

You fall silent, biting your lip so you don’t retort violently. He doesn’t look particularly malicious when he says that but you do not want to give him the satisfaction of an answer yet.

He quietens for a moment before a look of curiosity flashes across his features.

“What is it then?” he asks. “Is it a secret? Foxes love secrets. Tell me.”

Despite every bone in your body burning up, you find it in yourself to laugh.

“I don’t think I could keep a secret from you if I tried,” you finally say, before bursting into soft laughter again.

Yuta looks at you puzzled, lips parted while he stands frozen as if he were a painting. A daunting, reckless, heavenly painting.

“It’s not want,” you answer quietly. “It’s more than that. Even if I hated it. I like you.”

Yuta’s ears perk up at your confession. “So- so you admit, then? You are interested?”

“I could blame you for this, you know?” You shrug, hugging yourself once the night starts to feel cold again. Yuta begins to take off his jacket when you stop him, gently pressing your palm against his chest. 

“You’re a fox, after all,” you whisper. “Like me. What they think of me.”

Yuta purses his lips. “Does it really hurt you? No, wait. Did they- did they—”

“Now, you tell me,” you cut him off. “Why do you insist on getting married—to me?”

There’s a pause. The crickets chirp a merry tune despite the leisurely darkness of the night.

“You’re not terrible,” he says, nonchalantly.

You glare at him and he raises his hands in defeat. He looks wearier the more you look at him.

“I want to grow old,” he mumbles after a long pause. “Properly.”

You hold your breath.

“And you want to do it with me?”

Another flower blooms in your chest, as if he hasn’t planted a garden in there already. The lights from the festival flicker down, the lanterns burning brighter in the distance. He glances at them for a moment, your eyes still fixated on him. 

The tails glow even brighter in the dark, as if gold in broad daylight. You’ve always been curious about him and his kind, all the stories; but he says he’s too old to remember if you ask.

You reach out to touch one of the tails, wondering if the fur is as warm as it looks. They’re pale and captivating, but they look so soft—they shouldn’t belong to an animal so vicious. Is he, though? Is he all that you think he is or have all these years failed you? If anything, he’s quite probably not as much a fox as you are, you think bitterly.

The fur is warm, but the realization is short-lived.

A short growl leaves the corner of his mouth. Yuta glares at you like he was stolen from and yet, you do not move your hand. Some part of you wants to aggravate him further.

“I’m not a pet,” he snaps. “Stop that.”

“You should stop me yourself,” you mimic his voice.

Yuta’s shoulders relax, and he looks down but you can still see the trembling smile on his face. It’s the way he looks at you, you think to yourself, maybe that's the reason after all.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say, feeling warmer than the autumn night should allow.

“Like what?” he asks, still smiling.

You look away. 

“You’re not too fox-like, you know?” you mumble. “You’re just annoying. And flirty. And annoying.”

Yuta chuckles, before pressing his palm to the top of your head. 

“And you’re lovely.”

You give in to the gesture of affection, leaning your head to press against his shoulder.

“Why do you even do all this? What do you get out of it?” you say, voice muffled. He hears you clearly, however.

“Because I love you,” he responds, as if coming to terms with it himself. “More than you think.”

There is no joke, no flirtation to his tone, no decoration upon his words. It’s plain, and laid bare. And sometimes, simplicity is scariest. 

You pull back, lips pulled into a frown. The air is cold once more; the longing for warmth flowing into you. The silence is worse.

“You don't believe foxes can fall in love,” he states softly upon a wavering smile. “I knew that. Of course.”

A part of him believes it too.

“I…” you begin, and for the first time, you are afraid of promises in the name of love. You are the one making them now.

“I’ll believe you,” you whisper, “I’ll believe you so please… please take care of me.”

You place your palm against his cheek, his skin bewitchingly warm. 

“Only if you take care of me,” he whispers back, leaning in.

This time, you do not move.

The lovers’ kiss you’d been searching for—lovers’ warmth, lovers’ comfort—all of it comes crashing down once Yuta tightens his arm around your waist, the other hand resting gently at the base of your neck. He kisses with the right amount of pressure, the vague taste of sweet berries in his mouth.

You used to fear his touch, like he would eat you whole; even if they have been gentle, always. This time, you might as well let him. He presses his lips from your cheek to jaw to neck, lingering at each spot enough to make you clutch at his shirt tighter, taking in short gasps of breath. You kiss for a little longer, like time means nothing.

“We should go back,” you whisper, pulling apart.

Yuta kisses you again, the distance unacceptable. 

“Yuta—”

He kisses you once more, your calls falling on deaf ears.

Finally, after another long kiss, he pulls apart enough to rest his forehead against yours, eyes still closed.

“It must have been hard for you,” he mumbles.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” you scoff.

“Foxes are faithful lovers, you know?” he insists.

You laugh. “What do you mean?”

“It means I’ll follow you everywhere.”

He stands up straight, his thumb stroking your cheek as he bites back a smile.

“I don’t think we should get back tonight,” he suggests all of a sudden. “We could book a hotel. That’s the place you use these days, right? I’m sure your grandmother will understand your absence—”

You groan, resting your forehead against his shoulder and he presents a delighted laugh in return. It is warm by his side; he is warm. You find it easy to forget the failures in love, the loneliness of a lover that isn’t meant to be yours. Folktales are just long tales, after all. You smile to yourself. 

You should’ve known—it was the fox all along. 

[liliesoftherain]

My Everlasting Alstroemeria

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader; Midoriya Izuku x Reader 

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst? 

Summary: Part 2 of Alstroemeria

A/N: Hi y’all, here's part 2!! Bakugou’s Pov. Let me know if you want a Deku pov????

-----

“Say hello dear; this is Lady (l/n) and her lovely daughter, Miss (y/n) (l/n).”

Katsuki stands there as The Lady bows gracefully with her daughter following suit, so he straightens and greets them as he’s been taught to. 

The Lady smiles, turning to his mother, and converses about something he has already tuned out. He stares at you, all properly cleaned and groomed--he wants to roll his eyes. He hasn’t encountered many girls his age before, but he knows they were all too, too girly.

“Katsuki, why don’t you show Miss (l/n) around the gardens outside? I am sure she will appreciate the sights,” His mother gently shoves him closer to where you stood, grinning triumphantly and looking at your mother with a wink. “Now, friend, we have an entire tray of biscuits calling our name--shall we?” 

The adults walk off to the parlor, and Katsuki knows they’ll have a perfect view of the gardens from there. Just great, he has to continue to pretend to be nice. 

He saunters away, yet doesn’t make it more than three steps as he realizes you still haven’t moved. How bothersome. 

“Are you coming, or not?”

“Oh, um, of course!”

Katsuki actually rolls his eyes this time, all while struggling to keep his hands from entering his pockets--he can still feel the welts of his mother’s fan as she reminded him of how improper he acted. You keep quiet, and he supposes it’s better than you talking his ear off like the other boys from his school. 

The garden was nothing new to him, the same flowers and exotic plants, perfectly trimmed and on display. The marble fountain in the center of it all was always a fan favorite--even if he could care less about the structure. 

Despite his feelings, he noticed that your wide eyes have settled upon it so he brings you close enough to view the detailed carvings along the sides. 

“It’s beautiful!”

“I suppose.”

He huffs, sitting on the ledge as you continue to admire it. The longer you stare, the more aggravated he grows, and he can’t help as he stands to shout for your attention.

“Hey! It’s just a fountain--Woah!”

Katsuki wasn’t expecting you to be leaning down to touch the water so close to where he was, so the moment he stands and turns he ends up bumping into you--sending you straight into the water. 

The fountain isn’t deep, so you sit up without a struggle, but you are soaked. Your hair is ruined, and you spit water from your mouth. Rubbing your eyes of stray droplets, Katsuki winces at the fact you will start to cry at any moment--as well as the hits he’ll receive later, although he tries not to think about it.

“I, what were you, are you okay? Why were you so close to me?”

He grabs you by the arms and tries to pull you out, sending nervous glances to the large windows to his left. He can tell you’re still processing what happened; you’re rapidly blinking and proving to be of little help as Katsuki drags you out and plops you to sit on the edge--much to his annoyance. 

When your (e/c) eyes bore into his own, he knows this is it; this is the moment where you’ll start to throw a fit, and he’ll never hear the end of it.

“Don’t cry, for the love of--”

Instead of tears, he is granted with laughter that thoroughly confuses him--why were you laughing? You chortle loudly, gripping the sides of your stomach and leaning forward. Katsuki doesn’t know whether he should steady you or step back, so he just stays still, watching as your body shakes and shivers from the breeze--yet you still laugh.

“What, just what is so funny?” Exasperation tugs his lips downward, and you struggle to contain yourself.

“Sorry. I just can’t help it--I, I fell into a fountain! Mother is going to be furious.”

You stand, and Katsuki jumps back to avoid getting wet; your skirts are weighed down by the water, and it falls to the ground around your shoes. Although, it doesn’t matter much, seeing as your shoes are also soaked straight through. His eyes narrow and his mouth twists in amusement, he struggles to contain his own laughter at the full sight of you.

“You look like a wet cat.”

“I feel like a wet cat.”

“You aren’t going to cry, are you?”

“Cry?” You tilt your head in confusion, grasping the ends of your dress to ring out as much water as you could. “Why would I cry?”

“Because, um, well, because you fell?”

“So?”

“So now your dress is ruined. Don’t you girls care about stuff like that?”

“It will dry, won’t it?” You shrug, grinning brightly up at him. “Besides, these dresses are pretty itchy.”

Huh. You were strange--especially for a girl. 

-----

“Katsu!” 

He turns at the sound of your voice, watching as you hike your skirts up and run towards him. He faintly hears your mother yelling at you to behave, to act more proper, but you pay no heed as you continue on. You’re out of breath by the time you reach him, yet you’re still grinning wide, with a missing tooth on display.

“You’re not supposed to run like that--you act like such a boy sometimes.”

He has to look away as you puff your cheeks in protest, smoothing your dress down as if it would help. You were awfully annoying. 

“How mean of you Katsu, I came for you to be nice and play with me, not for you to be grumpy.”

“I am not grumpy!”

“You are too!”

Katsuki huffs, flicking your forehead before running further off into the woodland behind the manor. The yelp of aggravation causes him to laugh, and he turns back to see you chasing after him--the bottom of your dress collecting dust and you weren’t upset about it. 

Good, he didn’t want to be friends with a girl who was fussy and cry-babyish after all. 

-----

“Katsu!”

He holds in a sigh, seeing the table you have set before you--the same table you have been decorating differently for the last week in fact. Why did you have to do this anyway? What was the point of setting a table--didn’t the maids do that? Who cares what it looks like, it was just for gossiping ladies wasn’t it? 

He spots another occupant and the table, and this time he cannot hold in his sigh of annoyance. Of course, Izuku had to be here, the little wimp never knew how to say no to you.

“Katsu, come sit and enjoy some tea!”

Your smile was small--formal--and Katsuki found the sight rather gross. Still, he sat down. Not because you asked him to, he was just tired after having to come all the way to your home. That was all.

“Good to see you, Katsuki!” Izuku waves shyly.

“I would say likewise, but it would not be gentlemanly of me to be dishonest.”

“Behave.”

He rolls his eyes at your input, leaning back in the chair as you come close and pour him a cup of tea. He observes your side profile, the way your brows--that used to be furrow in concentration as you struggled not to spill a drop--now stay smooth and worry-free. You’re graceful and poised, something he wasn’t used to. You catch him looking through the corner of your eye, and you smile sweetly at him. He quickly huffs, looking away annoyed.

Girls were so weird--you were so weird.  

Katsuki watches as you gracefully take your place in the chair across from him, conversing in idle chatter with Izuku about who knows what. You sat straight, arms perfectly crossed over your lap, with a flawlessly pressed gown, and not a hair out of place. 

“I just feel as if something is missing from the décor, don’t you agree?”

“I believe it is lovely, (y/n).” 

“Well, thank you Izu, but I really believe there is just, just something that I need to add.”

You sigh, face screwing up as you ponder, and Katsuki acknowledges that he prefers your face this way. Less put together, more you. It’s easier to make fun of that way, of course.

“Your face will be stuck if you continue looking in such an ugly manner.”

“Oh hush you fiend, I do not need beauty tips from someone whose frown lines are more prominent than his fathers.”

Katsuki exhales quickly, amused at your quick wit. 

Time passes and they leave you, Katsuki sending Izuku off with a warning of his victory at the next fencing match. Yet before he can fully leave your tea room, he glances back and watches as you continue to fret over whatever it could be you need for your final table piece. He turns away before you notice, heading home, and finds himself in his own mother’s parlor. 

Her spread is just about the same as any other boring table, and yet set in the center was a large bouquet of her favorite flowers. Petals decorated around the tins and plates that would have held the food. Scoffing in distaste he leaves for his room, muttering how boring and stupid tea parties were and how he would never understand. 

On his walk home after school the next day, he takes a long way home through a field of flora. He didn’t want to go home right away, that was all, and this was the longest route he knew. It wasn’t his fault it was full of flowers, and it certainly wasn’t his fault as he spotted a vibrant shrub of sunset-colored ones that he just had to pick. 

Once inside his home, he mentally cursed as the first person to notice him was no one other than his mother.

“Katsuki, what are those?”

“Flowers mother, of course.”

His tone didn’t go unnoticed, and Lady Bakugou clicked her tongue at his words. 

“For whom are your, of-course-flowers, to go to?”

“No one. I simply wanted them.”

“You simply wanted an alstroemeria--a romance flower?”

“I just wanted them; I do not care what they are.”

“...What an insufferable child.” She dismissed him with a wave.

He holds his tongue, rushing up the stairs and away from her scrutinizing eyes. A breath of relief stops short as she speaks up once more, a teasing tilt to her voice.

“Would you tell Miss (l/n) I say hello whenever you present her your gift? It has been too long.”

Why were all the women in his life so aggravating?

-----

“Katsuki, can you please try to act as if you are entertained?”

“This is the fourth dance today, (y/n), I cannot be any less than indifferent now.”

You both circle each other, the music from the pianist floods the ballroom and he can tell you were counting in your head along to the beat. He brings you back into his arms, and you stare into his eyes, your own swirling with emotion. Katsuki pulls his gaze away, choosing to look around instead; pride puffs his chest as he sees multiple alstroemerias decorating the room. 

“Oh, of course! You must be exhausted--do you want to stop?”

He’s drawn back to your face, and he curses how he is unable to stop sneaking peeks at your pouted lips. He wants to say yes; he wants to tell you how his feet ache, how since he had barely gotten home from his small business trip with his father a mere few hours ago he wants nothing more than to sleep. 

“No. Now continue before I change my mind.”

The smile that stretches across your face is absolutely radiant, and the laugh bubbles from your lips causes his stomach to twist in ways that he cannot explain. 

You really are a strange and aggravating girl--one he can’t appear to say no to.

-----

“Oh Katsuki, it is adorable!”

He watches as you trace a finger along the broaches front, your once sullen mood has now gone at the sight. When he first arrived he didn’t understand why you looked to be so upset, but the moment you realized it was him you had perked up. 

A part of him wishes to believe you were happy for his return, and not just the idea of presents.

The broach pin he had gotten was something he felt as if he needed to have for you; obtaining it on another one of his trips, this one lasting far longer than most. He went away the entire summer, staying in one of his father’s estates in another area he possesses, for educational purposes. As a future Duke, he was constantly thrown around to learn lands, trade, and the people of surrounding areas--especially of the land he will one day inherit. It was rather taxing, boring, and dare he say lonely. 

Katsuki would never admit it out loud, but your presence was quite missed. 

“Of course it is, my taste is impeccable after all.”

“Yes, the only man who would see the beauty in a woman’s broach.” You laugh at your own taunt, and Katsuki clicks his tongue as he pretends to try and snatch it back.

“I will just keep this then if I am the only one who sees such beauty.”

“No, I am merely jesting! Please, I love it.”

You bring it close to your chest, holding it carefully as if it were the most precious thing you owned, and his heartbeat quickened. He knew that wasn’t true--you may not have been as high in social status as he was, but being the daughter of a Viscount meant you still had luxury in life. As well as being the only daughter of your line meant you were pampered, downright spoiled, and yet you were anything but a pompous brat; you were wonderful, kind, caring, and too sweet for your own good. 

“I really do love it Katsuki. Thank you. I’ll wear it always, it looks just like my favorite flower! My everlasting alstroemeria.”

Maybe you were too sweet for his own good. 

-----

“What are you two doing here?”

Katsuki stands beside Izuku as they both find you in the drawing-room, accompanied by your mother. You both stand and bow, and he and Izuku dismiss the gesture--they are both too familiar to want to be treated with such formalities behind closed doors. Your mother allows the boys to take her spot, and she moves to the other side of the room to grant some privacy. 

“Well, we are all to be busy this season--you especially of course.” Izuku starts, soft eyes not going unnoticed by Katsuki. 

He does all he can to not push him away from your side.

“We came here to wish you luck, you are sure to need it with all this prepping you must endure.” Katsuki sighs, leaning back tiredly as if it was him to be affected.

Your laugh lights a fire within him, and he can’t remember when it had switched from an annoyance to being angelic music.

“You both are too kind--I shall survive, hopefully.” 

You fall into easy conversation, and Katsuki remains reserved to observe. 

You’ve grown throughout the years, no longer were you the wild child who would ambush him with sticks in the grove behind his home. No longer were you the young girl who would step on his toes purposely when he would verbally complain. No, now you were a bewitching young woman, one with an enticing face, enthralling wit, and a beauty like no other. 

If you weren’t the top choice for the season, he would be surprised--no doubt would the rest of the male occupants; it was something he was dreading. The chance to court you would be more difficult with the more callers you had and while he didn’t want to use his status as a flaunting point, he would hope it would keep others at bay until he could propose.

However, no one was as big of a threat as the green-eyed dimwit he called a friend. Katsuki was no fool, he knew Izuku cared for you just as much as he did. How could they not become so enchanted with you? 

You were perfect.

“I am not looking forward to all the dancing, it is different than dancing at home with one of you.”

“Well, you must promise to save a dance for me then.”

“Oh?” You raise a brow, attention focused on him. That’s what he liked to see.

“Yes, you must. I have been subjected to your torture for years now--I have to see if you can hold your composure while under that type of pressure.”

You snort, an extremely unladylike mannerism that he held endearment for, and roll your eyes at his taunts. 

“Well then it is a promise, I shall always make sure to save you a dance,” you turn from him to the other and the illusion of being alone with you vanishes, “the both of you.”

Yes, if there was one person he’d have to watch for, it was going to be Izuku.

-----

“My Lord, this is my daughter, Miss Tokage.”

Katsuki merely greets her respectfully, not fully present in the conversation as he waits for your arrival.

When you do arrive, it is like time had stood still--no one else’s presence mattered except yours. You were ethereal; your seamstress having outdone herself as you wore a gown that did nothing but accentuate all the right traits. Your makeup--while you never needed it--brought out the color of your eyes and the temptations of your lips. Your hair was adorned with alstroemerias of the same beautiful sunset gold as he had brought to you all those years ago, and the urge to propose to you then and there was extremely difficult to hold back.

As his feet began to move toward you, a body blocked the way.

“My Lord, my dances for tonight are free--if you wish to occupy them, that is.”

His eyes flicker back to you, seeing you hanging off your mother’s arm as another suitor reaches you first. As long as it wasn’t Izuku…

He catches his mothers gaze, and she too looks as if she wants for him to turn the girl away. Yet she offers a half-heartfelt smile, and he feels his resolve crumble. That's right, Miss. Tokage was a very prestigious daughter, and it would be a good match. But that's not what he wanted--he wanted you.

He swallows down a sigh, accepting her offer as he writes his name on the first dance and pulls her onto the floor. Dancing with her is much different than with you; she's not the right height, she feels all too wrong in his arms, and the little conversation there is, is dull. Sure, he is probably the cause of that, as he merely offers polite responses and nothing more. He searches for you again, and finds you standing off to the side--the one and only Izuku standing next to you. 

The song ends, and Katsuki means to take his leave to head to you but this girl follows him, and he tries to explain as peacefully as he can that he is no longer interested before he gives up and makes his leave anyways. 

Katsuki searches the dance floor and sees how Izuku twists you effortlessly, and his anger begins to rise. You both are laughing, as always, and yet Katsuki knew it was different than before. This time, it meant so much more than playful banter between childhood friends. 

Without another thought, he pushes himself in your direction with a simple,

“Pardon--”

Your wide eyes fall upon him and his heart stutters.

“Miss (l/n), a dance? A real dance, anyways. Seeing as the ever graceful Izuku may as well have two left feet.”

“Oh, most amusing, Katsuki.”

When you look away, his smirk loses its humor and grows tighter; Izuku’s eyes darken in return. His arm tightens around you, and Katsuki has to bite his tongue lest he say something he’d regret.

When you take his outstretched hand, he calms; you’re the only one who could soothe his soul with something as simple as your touch. He spins you round, before pulling you close--this is what he needed. You fit perfectly into his arms, there was no way anyone could ever replace you.

“How are you this evening, (y/n)?”

“Very well, My Lord.”

Katsuki doesn’t know what to make of your neutral face--normally at these events you joke and tease him, talking the night away, uncaring of the scrutinizing eyes of the guests. Now, it was as if you were truly strangers, speaking formally as any other person would.

After a bit more coaxing, you relax, and even let out an adorable snigger--he bites his lip to hold back a smile. There was the girl he loved.

“May I say, your hair looks lovely tonight--alstroemerias again? It suits you.”

He spins you, slightly longer than before just so he could control his flaming cheeks, and holds you closer when you spin back. All of his life he never understood why he cared for you so much; you were some strange girl his mother had made him escort around until you were so much more. 

He yearned for your quips and teases, he ached for your time and presence, he so desperately desired to spend every moment by your side. You understood him like no other, conversations with you were never dull, always full of life and warm--and he longed to converse with you until he grew old and unable. 

To him you were his path to true happiness, and Katsuki wanted nothing more than to be truly happy. Yet, your happiness mattered more; Katsuki would do anything to ensure it. 

He bowed when the dance finished, and his eyes looked up and locked onto green. Izuku stood off in the crowd, bottom lip caught between teeth before his attention flickered elsewhere. Maybe this was the opportunity he needed to take, to propose here before anyone else could. But fear kept his mouth from moving, what if you were to say no? What if you never spoke to him again? He could let you go if he had to, but did he really have the strength to never be able to be near you again? 

“Thank you for the dance, My Lord. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.” 

Confusion tore him from his thoughts, words caught in his throat as he watched you hastily walk away. Your tone was sharp, words final as you disappeared in the crowd.

When his eyes flickered to where Izuku once stood, he found that he too was nowhere to be seen.

-----

Katsuki Bakugou has never felt quite this hurt before; the feeling of his heart clenching in pain is something entirely new to him. His body is numb, his hands shake, and the feeling of drowning makes it difficult to breathe. 

He is stuck in place, watching as another puts a flower behind your ear and brings your hand up to his lips. He cannot move as you grow shy, basking in the presence of another man's soft gaze.  

“Izuku…”

“If the Lady is willing to accept, may I be so bold as to call upon her tomorrow?”

“Of course, My Lord.”

That punch to the gut is what it takes for him to come back down to reality, and he quickly turns on his heel and leaves. He aches in silence, leaving the ballroom without any goodbyes, blowing right past the juniper maiden who just couldn’t take the hint. 

None of that was important, he was too focused on his need for a breath as his chest constricts with the lack of oxygen. His gasps ring out into the empty night and he’s forced to learn against a marble pillar lest he falls. 

To be reduced to such a pathetic state angered him, but it was nothing compared to the anger he felt at his so-called childhood friend. 

The anger soon melted into even more pain, and Katsuki clenched his jaw at the way his throat constricted. He knew from the beginning he hadn’t much of a chance, he knew Izuku would be his biggest competition, and yet, there wasn’t one at all. If Izuku won your hear--who was he to argue that?

And so, he knew that nothing will ever be as good as it once was, as you were, nothing will be worth all his effort like you were, no one will ever come close to you. 

But if you were happy, he could pretend to be.

For you, his everlasting alstroemeria.

[nobodyfamousposts]

BURN THE WITCH! Part 5

Yes, I WILL finish this.

Lila was soaking wet and didn’t even have to feign how miserable she was when she managed to make it back to dry land and into the first open store she saw.

Said open store just happened to be the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, where none other than Marinette’s own parents were there to greet her.

And fortunately for Lila, they were all too willing to take her under their protection once she explained the “horrible story” of what had happened.

“Oh you poor girl!”

“Come on upstairs. We have a daughter your age. She should have some extra clothes you can change into.“

“Thank you,” She said with a sniffle. “You’re too kind.”

Lila hadn’t even had to do much to get the gullible couple to let her in. She wished she could be proud of that fact, but their determination to help her probably stemmed more from the fact that she currently looked like a drowned rat.

On the plus side, it meant less effort to get what she needed.

On the down side…she did look like a drowned rat.

It seemed that when the owner of the boat had said for Lila to be “thrown overboard”, she meant it literally. The boat residents were rather unreasonably cross with her and hadn’t been feeling patient enough to hold out for the mob to arrive to collect her. And thus the two had cruelly and rather foolishly tossed Lila off the side of the ship.

It was for the best, as unbeknownst to them, Lila could swim perfectly well. And a dip in the cold water was still preferable to being burned alive.

…Except that contrary to popular belief and portrayal to tourists, the water of the Seine is actually rather polluted, not to mention completely disgusting. The mayor’s incompetence and focus on other arbitrary and more self-centered issues (aka: Chloe’s whim of the day) was no doubt part to blame. So Lila not only looked like a drowned rat, but smelled like one, too.

Gross. Gross. Gross!

At least Sabine had been polite enough to hide her disgust as she led Lila to a bathroom to try and clean up. Not that Lila could take full advantage of that, unfortunately. As much as she wanted to, there was too much risk of something happening. Members of the mob could track her down. Marinette could return and out her. And despite her warnings to the parents to keep the TV off or risk becoming more minions of the akuma, there was still the chance that either might get curious and try to get an update on the Ladyblog.

There was also no telling just how the akuma’s influence could spread. Her classmates had turned against her almost immediately after Rose started talking. Anyone close enough to the akuma seemed to fall under her sway—possibly hearing distance? Then the idiots on the boat had thrown her out immediately after hearing the news report showing the akuma, being so enraged that they didn’t even care about the mob searching for her. The mob which, from what she could tell, was steadily growing in numbers and fanfare. Was that carnival music playing out there? Seriously? It was like her torment was entertainment or something!

And where the hell were Ladybrat and her sidekick? On vacation? They should have made an appearance to try and fight the akuma by now.

Lila huffed.

They were probably taking advantage of her situation to enjoy her suffering. She wouldn’t put it past them. Both of them were annoyingly self-righteous. Looking down on her and using their powers to make themselves seem “special”.

If SHE had powers, none of this would even be happening.

She growled in anger.

And what was taking Hawk Moth? Hadn’t he let this go on long enough? He should be trying to rein in the akuma by now! Or at least have it focus on the real job of dealing with the fake “heroes”.

“Dear, is everything all right?” Sabine asked, knocking on the door.

“Yes, I’m fine!” Lila answered quickly. It wouldn’t do for Marinette’s mother to hear her ruminations, after all. She opened the door, making herself appear shy and insecure. The sort of appearance anyone would see as being innocent and not think twice about her true inner thoughts.

“That’s good.” The older woman said with a smile. Lila had to hold back a questioning look at just how…blasé she was.

What kind of parents were these that they’d just let a random teenager into their daughter’s home and allow her use of her daughter’s belongings? Much less one whom their child had clearly been at odds with previously. Did they not even remember her? Or were they just blinded by their need to help?

It explained where Marinette got it, at least.

“Here is a spare shirt and some pants.” Sabine said, placing them on the table nearby as Lila finished drying off as much as possible with the towel.

“Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly.” Lila falsely tried to decline. “I know your daughter and I aren’t exactly friends and I wouldn’t want to impose…” She trailed off and lowered her eyes, the picture of a sad and pitiable.

Sabine frowned at that, her eyes seeming to flare in indignation at the thought of her daughter being so cruel. “It’s for a good cause. She’ll understand.” The tone of voice made it clear that Sabine wouldn’t accept anything less, which made something inside Lila laugh with glee.

“I hope so.” Lila said, making herself sound uncertain. “I wouldn’t want to cause any problems.”

Marinette’s own mother looked at Lila with more sympathy than she had her own daughter when she was accused. “It won’t be any trouble.” She reassured her as she took Lila’s wet clothes.

“Thank you!” Lila said with a smile. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

Not.

Really, you would think her parents would have better sense. But she couldn’t say she was surprised given what she’d seen of them so far. If they were so willing to believe the worst in their daughter with a couple flimsy lies, they really weren’t that dependable. Especially when they were willing to let the very girl who framed their daughter into her home.

Oh well. Marinette’s loss.

Sabine smiled back and left the room. As soon as the door was shut, Lila looked at the clothes with distaste.

Ugh. As if she would want to wear anything owned by little miss “Perfect”.

But beggars couldn’t be choosers at this point.

Knowing Marinette, the girl had probably intended to bring Lila here in the first place. Not smart, given that she would be giving access of her home to someone she knows can’t be trusted, but Marinette more than anyone could be foolishly nice, even to her own detriment.

In retrospect, Lila really should have gone with her in the first place. It would’ve made things so much easier. At the very least, she would have been able to skip the dip in the Seine. 

If she cared, part of her would pity Marinette.

The problem with being “kind“ and “helpful“ was that the more you did it, the less people actually appreciated it. Because of course the nice person would be willing to be imposed upon or have to go out of their way for others, because they always do and that’s just the sort of person they are. No need to even ask them.

It became common—expected even. To the point where people would easily get upset and react poorly even more on the occasion if you weren’t kind as they would if you were actually mean.

It was why Lila feigned so many injuries. Not only did it get her sympathy and patsies to do things for her for a time, but it cemented the exact impression she wanted people to have of her. That she was “delicate”, which led them to avoid imposing on her as they didn’t want to overburden her. This allowed her to avoid having to do too much while still maintaining The impression of being a kind and sweet girl who would do anything to help them, “if only she could”.

It was why she was able to get free lunches and ice cream while Marinette was overwhelmed with requests and work for her friends. Because if Marinette “always” helps, then of course she can take each request they make of her and handle it all. It’s just expected of her.

And if she ever dares to say “no”? Regardless of her reasons or even just sheer inability to make the time, people would still be disappointed in her. She would even be disappointed in herself.

Honestly, Lila wasn’t wrong when she said she would win. How couldn’t she when she was playing with such an advantage while Marinette didn’t even know the game? Lila probably didn’t even need to do anything to win. Either Marinette would tire herself by working endlessly to appease everyone or risk alienating herself by trying to set limits. Lila didn’t even have to be a factor for that.

Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t help it along...

Which was why she decided to take advantage of the opportunity to go snooping through Marinette’s room for something to use.

After all, her charade may be over, but Lila at least still had an escape. She could simply go to her mother and complain of bullying, and the woman would act. She would move Lila to a new school, or even transfer to a new placement in her work altogether. She’d done it before. And it had gotten Lila out of situations that were becoming dicey.

Marinette wouldn’t be so lucky. Even if Lila didn’t get to steal Marinette’s friends for herself, she could still turn them against her before she leaves. At least in that way, she would keep her promise that Marinette would end up alone.

It would be a final present to herself as she says goodbye to Paris.

She didn’t even bother to hide the smirk as she made her way up the stairs to what could only be Marinette’s room. It had to be, since it was the direction Sabine had left in to get the clothes for her and none of the other rooms she’d passed looked were what she imagined the goody two-shoes’ room to look like. Once she reached the top of the stairs and opened the door into the final room…

…Yeah, this was more of what she had thought Marinette’s room would be like. Lila sneered in distaste as she was assaulted with an overabundance of pink, dolls, “cutesy” furniture, and fashion designs. And that was all the obvious details at first glance.

She glanced around the room in annoyance, noting just how big and open it was in comparison to her own apartment bedroom. It was bright. Even without the pink it was cheery and warm, with two windows and a balcony overhead. A balcony with its own garden, too! And a perfect view of the city on top of everything else! How fair was it that a baker’s daughter got to make use of such space?

All the more space to hide things, even. Lila’s hands twitched with an urge to destroy the room and its contents.  It would be worth it for the look on Marinette’s face once she saw it. But she wasn’t here for that and there was every chance that Ladybug’s cure could fix it. No, what she needed was something more permanent.

Now where were the more…”incriminating” details?

Lila started a search of the room for anything she could use to solidify Marinette’s isolation from the rest of the class. Something that would make even Adrien want nothing to do with her.

Marinette’s computer was locked and it would take too much time to guess the password. There was no book in sight that could be a diary. There were plenty of designs and Marinette’s sketchbook, but any ideas she had to use those would require her to stick around to complete them.

Nah, she needed something more straightforward. Something like…

Hello. Against the wall closest to her bed was a plethora of Adrien posters that might as well have been her wallpaper.

A pull of a string revealed a scrolled up calendar with Adrien’s schedule.

And what’s this? Hidden in the closet was an entire stack of presents. All labeled for Adrien.

Oh, this was too good. She was practically giddy as she started taking pictures with her phone camera. Pictures of the wall. Pictures of the schedule. Pulling the presents out of the closet and scattering them across the room to take pictures of each of those. She couldn’t have asked for a better opening!

She’d known Marinette to have a huge crush on Adrien. It was obvious from how she acted around him, which was why Lila tried to buy her friendship with false promises to help her win his heart—not completely false though, as she may very well have let Marinette have him…once Lila herself was bored of him. Still, she clearly underestimated the girl’s crush. This was extreme and just ripe for humiliation. An entire wall of pictures of his face to watch her sleep. His daily schedule to always know where he is. Presents for years—as if they’ll even still know each other that long!

It might not have been as good as say a diary or some other dirty secret, but this was just enough for Lila to spin it against Marinette. Imagine how Adrien would feel about all this? Or if his FATHER knew? Ooooh, Marinette’s dreams, whether as a designer or as Adrien’s love would be completely dashed!

And speaking of which, it was perhaps fortunate that Lila just HAPPENED to be on such good terms with the father in question! Surely he would want to know about this.

Why hadn’t she called on him sooner? Gabriel needed her. She was useful to him. So surely he would be willing to help her. He had a private mansion with its own defense system that could protect her from any unruly mob. Honestly, she should have gone there first.

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, she decided as she tapped his contact number. She could ensure her safety with Gabriel and ruin Marinette with one phone call.

“What is it?”

Lila frowned in surprise. Her call had been picked up immediately, but rather than Gabriel, she was stuck talking to his assistant.

“This is Lila Rossi. I need to speak to Mr. Agreste.”

“Mr. Agreste is busy at the moment.”

Lila barely held back a huff of irritation. “This is important.”

“Whatever it is you have to say is not important enough to disturb Mr. Agreste at this time. Or ever, for that matter.”

What was this? The woman wasn’t even listening!

“But it’s about his son!” Lila exclaimed. It wasn’t, actually. Lila needed a safe place to hide and that was priority, but if there was one thing Gabriel cared about that could ensure he would listen long enough, Adrien was it.

“There’s a horrible girl who has been obsessed with him!” Lila exclaimed with overly grandiose affect. “She has invaded his personal space, harassed him in public, and followed him into unsanctioned areas. I think she’s a stalker! Gabriel needs to know!”

“We are already aware of your antics, Miss Rossi. Although it is useful of you to admit them. This will be included in your file.”

Lila balked at that.

“MY file?”

“I assumed you could only have been speaking of yourself, given your history.”

“No! I was talking about Marinette! SHE’S the one who—”

“Did you think we wouldn’t find out what you had been doing? You lied and manipulated your way into the mansion. You’ve been frequently touching and hanging on Adrien in a way he is not comfortable with and is against company policy. And then there are the ‘rumors’ you’ve been spreading of being his girlfriend without speaking to Adrien or clearing it with Gabriel Agreste first. And then there were your outright attempts to use Adrien to get close to the head of the company brand and try to manipulate said head of the company in regards to his own son.”

“I didn’t!” Lila insisted. This was going all wrong!

“Our cameras and reports say differently. Which is why we will request that you cease any and all contact with the company and its employees henceforth.”

Lila froze.

“What?”

“In light of recent allegations, the Gabriel brand has decided it would be in the company’s best interests to cut ties with someone of such…unsavory background.”

“What do you mean—”

“Your contract with Gabriel is terminated. There will be no further communications with Mr. Agreste or Adrien. And a restraining order is in process of being issued.”

“But…” This couldn’t be happening!

“Goodbye, Miss Rossi.”

There was a final resounding click. Then silence. And Lila found herself choking on dread from within a hatefully cheerful and pink room where no bad things should happen.

This couldn’t be it.

This couldn’t be the end!

All her efforts…for nothing?

And…that meant she didn’t have the mansion as a safe house. If she was forced to run again, she had no backup plan. She had to rely on Ladybug to…

Wait…

Ladybug?

It wouldn’t leave her. Ladybug. What about Ladybug? It may have been the shock of everything, but even the thought of the spotted heroine didn’t hold animosity for her for once. Not compared to the desperate hope that the connection and slow realization brought her.

This was…

This was just the akuma!

That’s right! Lila spun back as she realized.

The akuma was controlling everyone. No doubt Gabriel and his people were caught up in it as well. The man had to have spies everywhere. And if the influence spread by word of mouth, it would have been easy for him to fall under its sway as well.

That meant that Ladybug would fix this. Everything would go back to normal and nobody would even remember this. She would still have her contract. She would still have her ties to Gabriel and his influence to serve in her favor. Hell, maybe it would be confusing enough for everyone that she could spin things to her classmates to convince them it was all a misunderstanding or the akuma’s work?

There was still a chance!

She wasn’t finished!

Lila Rossi has not fallen yet!

Except then she did. Literally. By tripping over one of the spare presents she had left out in the middle of the floor to photograph. Unable to regain her balance, she hit the floor with a thud. That thud turned into a clatter as her sprawled form making contact with the ground sent a number of the other packages and a few other objects falling over in a small avalanche of noise that seemed to resound throughout the room and no doubt to the floors below.

Maybe…maybe nobody heard that?

The stomping of feet from below heading in her specific direction told her that yes, her unfortunate tumble had indeed been heard. Stupid! She should have put the gifts back sooner! She only had a few moments to act. Lila barely managed to pull herself up into something close to a standing position before the door to the room flung open.

Sabine entered the room with baking peel in hand, looking wary and concerned. Her eyes scanned the room in seconds. Seeing the presents scattered across the floor. Seeing several objects moved from their proper places. Seeing Lila sitting in the middle of it all.

In an instant, any trace of a sympathetic authority figure in her corner was gone. Instead, she was replaced with a very protective and very ANGRY mother who just found a threat in her home.

“What do you think you are doing?!”

“Oh, Mrs. Dupain-Cheng!” Lila exclaimed, looking relieved. “I’m so glad someone found me!”

“What are you doing up here?” The woman demanded, looking substantially less pleased to see her.

“It’s a bit embarrassing.” She explained, appearing bashful. “I took a wrong turn and got lost.”

The mother’s eyes narrowed.

“You got lost.”

“Yes!”

Maybe she would buy it?

“And took stairs clearly leading UP instead of DOWN.”

Yeah, she wasn’t buying it.

“Yes?” Lila tried anyway.

“And why is the room in disarray?” Sabine continued to question—oh who was she kidding, it was an interrogation at this point.

“I got scared.” Lila stated, only acting slightly more anxious than she actually felt. “I was worried the akuma would find me and I wanted to find a place to hide. Her closet seemed big enough.” She finished, gesturing to the now roomier closet space.

Sabine’s eyes followed her gesture. Her expression became slightly more uncertain. She was considering it at least. While the story seemed suspicious, Sabine had no proof and Lila’s explanation was at least plausible. She couldn’t argue it at any rate.

“Come downstairs.” Sabine ordered, unhappy but appearing to buy her story for now. “We’ll find a place to keep you hidden that isn’t our daughter’s room.” 

“Oh, thank you!” Lila cried gratefully. She moved towards the exit with no further hesitation.

She had already gotten what she needed, after all.

But as Lila passed by, the woman suddenly gripped her shoulder. Hard enough that she could very well bruise. Precise enough that pressure points were hit which caused more pain and a sense of numbness in her arm.

“If you take advantage of our kindness to harm my daughter, you’re going to burn in a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for politicians and people who talk at the theater.”

Lila couldn’t help the wincing. She didn’t need to fake it, but she didn’t even try to hide it, either. “Ow! Yes! I got it! Ow!”

Sabine relaxed her grip but didn’t release it, walking Lila down the stairs and back to the main part of the shop. Tom looked up, a bit confused as they entered. But despite not being the one to catch Lila, even he was looking at her suspiciously.

This wasn’t good.

Lila was already working out what she could say to turn this in her favor. But—

“Honey, I just got a text from Nadja.” Tom stated, seeming worried.

“Oh?” Sabine asked, curious.

“She said that the ‘Witch’ was in our daughter’s room trying to find Marinette’s secrets to humiliate her and ruin her future. Do you know what she means?”

A long pause.

Lila gulped.

“Honey?” Tom asked, though from the silence, he was starting to draw his own conclusions as slowly his gaze started to settle on Lila. His eyes narrowed as his expression morphed into anger.

But even that was nothing compared to the other...

“Really?” Sabine drawled.

Lila felt everything in her freeze as the woman slowly—all too slowly turned to smile at her.

That was not a nice smile.

“How very…special.”

Lila’s eyes widened, catching the meaning.

NOPE!

And she immediately booked it out of Sabine’s grasp, out of the room, and out of the bakery altogether.

[curiousherbal]

In Hands We Trust(fund)

Mystic Messenger

In Hands We Trust(fund)

Han Jumin x Reader ; Han Jumin x MC

Fluff & Humor

3.7 k

Rated: T

Summary:  Jumin had large hands. He was a tall man, of course. And you know what they say about having large hands, right?

*read on ao3 for animated emojis :3*

Jumin had large hands. He was a tall man, of course.

And you know what they say about having large hands, right?

ZEN: come on jagiya, don’t make me ask again..

You quirked a small, side smile to yourself. The chat had been active all morning and afternoon. Everyone must be in a good mood. Your most recent RFA party had only been two nights ago, and it was arguably one of the most successful ones to date. It was exhausting, yet rewarding, and you hypothesized that everyone’s lighthearted temper was a direct effect of being relieved that all of the extensive preparations and tedious social engagements had come to fruition, and quite smoothly at that.

707: ooohhh eager are we? did someone get a new role>> B)

ZEN:

ZEN: how’d u know??

Always happy to seize the opportunity to play off Seven’s bouts of humor, your fingers scrambled to reply, rapidly flying over your phone’s keyboard:

You: Telekinesis!

707: Ah! My lady doth speak after all!

ZEN: Your lady?

707: But Zen

ZEN: Yes??? What??

707: You’re playing the part really well

707: I’m impressed!

707:

Yoosung✰: Huh? I thought Zen was just acting like himself?

ZEN: yeah Seven, are you on drugs or something?

707: Mis-ta Steal Yo Girl! You’re playing the role real well!

707: I’d be wary of the fearsome iceman though…

Yoosung✰:

Yoosung✰: I’m so confused…

Oh no. Panicking, you hurriedly went to turn down the speaker volume on your phone –

Yoosung✰:

Satisfied that you managed to avoid Yoosung’s … disturbingly bawdy bawling, you tucked your feet beneath your legs as you adjusted your position on Jumin’s bed.

Our bed.

It was still something that you had to get used to. Your relationship with Jumin was something that was intense; it accelerated at a rate which had everyone surprised. But you were happy. And Jumin was finally freed from the tendrils of loneliness that had haunted him all of his life.

You finally had someone that not only treated you like the princess that you were, but someone that was mature, responsible, and respected you as not just as a woman or lover – but as a human being.

He was your best friend. Your best friend that shared a mutual love for cats.

And if you were being completely honest, his handsome visage and comfortable living arrangements were nothing to complain about either.

Jumin Han has entered the chatroom

Your face flushed red. Your fiancé was currently at work. He must have just gotten on his lunch break to log into the chatroom. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least somewhat apprehensive of how Jumin would proceed. He has always been just a bit too protective…

707: AHHH! Yoosung run!!

Yoosung✰: WHAT WHY

Yoosung✰:

707: THE

707: I

707: C

707: E

707:  O          /|\          / \

Yoosung✰ has left the chatroom

Your head fell back with bellowing laughter that reached the high ceiling of the penthouse. Poor Yoosung.

Unphased, your fiancé made his presence known in chat:

Jumin: Ah, ma chérie. How lovely it is to see you here. I take it you’ve had lunch?

Jumin: …

Jumin: Zen, it is truly regrettable that I cannot say the same to you.

ZEN:

ZEN: DUDE

ZEN: What’s wrong with you??

707: Yeah!

707: No greeting for me?? What am I, chopped liver??

Jumin: My sincerest apologies, Luciel. How are you?

707: Doing just dandy, thx thx (♥ω♥ ) ~♪

ZEN: blegh, gross. Don’t flirt with that man, Seven.

707: whattttt

Like a well-oiled machine, you and Seven both responded at the same time:

You: but he flirts with everyone!

707: hey I flirt with everyone!

Your eyes widened and you couldn’t help but shake with laughter. You and Seven were like two sides of the same coin, finishing each other’s sentences whilst copying each other’s mannerisms and phrases.

707: JINX!!!

You: OMG

Jumin: Love, I’m happy to see you enjoying yourself.

Feeling slightly guilty at having delayed answering Jumin’s question, you blushed and gave your lover a reply:

You: Darling! Yes – I am well. <3 I hope work has been going well. <<33

You: And no – I haven’t yet. Zen was just trying to convince me to go get lunch with him lol

707: lolol

707: gonna go get popcorn 4 this lololol

Jumin:

Jumin: Zen, is that true?

ZEN: So what if it is! You don’t own her! She can make her own decisions

Jumin: Of course she can. And of course I don’t. Are you, by chance, projecting?

ZEN: Are you being smart with me?

Jumin: Just curious. I find it interesting how you are defaulting to assuming the worst in me. Perhaps you are subconsciously ashamed of your own beastly tendencies, no?

ZEN:

ZEN: Jagiya, can you believe this guy??

Sensing the growing tension, you decided that it would be best to windmill the conversation. Usually Zen’s and Jumin’s bickering was fairly harmless, but you didn’t want to take any chances in ruining the positive atmosphere that graced the RFA recently.

You: Zen, I appreciate your concern for me.

You: But we are kind of engaged, lol

Jumin: Correct.

707: Affirmative.

You: Glad that’s settled then, boys!

ZEN: Hey I wasn’t done –

You: I’ll meet you at the Parisian café halfway between yours and mine Zen 😊 15 minutes?

707: Oh la la, French cuisine ? How romantic~

707:

You grimaced slightly. You hadn’t meant for it to be romantic. You were just really craving an egg and cheese croissant, that’s all!

ZEN: Sounds picture perfect, princess.

ZEN: And I should know, since I take the best selfies haha

ZEN:

ZEN: I’ll see you there.

ZEN has left the chatroom

You rolled your eyes at the 180° change in Zen’s mood. He’s too easily pleased when he gets what he wants. Despite his mercurial tendencies, you did genuinely like Zen. You just couldn’t imagine being in a relationship with him; your nose crinkled slightly at the thought. The actor was too much like an older brother to you. Which is why I have Jumin. Your heart fluttered at the mere thought of the dark businessman. Many and most regarded him as cold, aloof. But you knew better, and he knew you knew. And that was all you both needed to be happy.

Jumin: Please be safe on your way, sweets. I will call Driver Kim to assist you there.

You: Thank you my love! I will be waiting for you when you get home this evening~~

707: Awhh how cute

You: You’re welcome to come too, Sevs

707: unfortunately I got a lotta work to do

707:

707: I am but a hacking slave

You: haha okay. Well you’re welcome anytime. I’ll get going then

You: Love you, Ju xx

Jumin: Enjoy your afternoon. I expect to see you later.

You have left the chatroom

Not wanting to be the last one out, you left before Seven or Jumin did. You briefly wondered if they’d talk any to each other, but you supposed you could always log back in later and see for yourself.

As you started getting ready to leave the penthouse, you couldn’t help but worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you thought about your fiancé’s parting wishes. No emoji. No kisses. No pet names.

You sighed.

Jumin had made leaps and bounds regarding his borderline obsessive nature over you, but he still could be quite moody. It was obvious that he wasn’t pleased with you having a lunch date with Zen, no matter how strictly platonic it was in your eyes. The tight-lipped business heir was making an effort to put on a cool, calm façade in the chatroom so as not to upset you. You appreciated his efforts, you truly did. It was all you could ask for – that he make an effort, that is.

You slipped on your sneakers and slung your crossbody bag over your shoulder. Giving the flat a onceover to ensure Elizabeth was comfortable and the windows locked, you exited the penthouse.

Surprisingly, Driver Kim was already waiting obediently in the hallway outside of the door.

He gave a polite bow. “Are you ready, Miss?”

With a smile and warm thanks, you exited the building and slid onto the cool, leather backseat of the car.

I’m on my way! 😊 You pocketed your phone after texting Zen, your stomach growling in anticipation.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

Jumin Han arrived home precisely at 5:15 PM. Less than ten seconds upon entering his penthouse, he could already tell from the dark hallways that you had yet to return from your afternoon rendezvous with a certain musical theatre actor.

Jumin’s lip curled in distaste.

Peeling off his suit jacket, Jumin made his way to his bedroom.

Our bedroom.

His heart gave a sudden pang in his chest, and Jumin sat gingerly on the bed. He undid the buttons to his waistcoat and exhaled. He laid back on the bed, his legs still bent at a right angle over the edge. He settled his large, slender hands atop his flat stomach.

He sensed the soft pitter-pat of Elizabeth stealthily slipping into the room. His senses were proved right when he felt her rub herself against his calves, her lithe body weaving in and out of the man’s lanky legs.

He sighed once more. One lethargic hand reached down, just barely nosing at the soft tips of Elizabeth’s dainty ears.

Jumin was annoyed. In truth, he was jealous, but he had been working hard to remedy that feeling specifically, especially when it concerned you.

Oh, how he hated to disappoint his love.

He turned his head, his left cheek now resting against the cool top of the comforter. His stomach growled hungrily.

He hated to disappoint you, but… I cannot control myself any longer… he suddenly thought hazily with a loose and smug smile: I am going to punish you when you get home.

The lonely man wove his fingers together, stretched them, and rested them against the back of his head.

Yes, he knew just the appropriate punishment for you.

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

It was half past 5 when you finally unlocked the door to your shared penthouse. Zen had insisted that you watch part of his rehearsal right after lunch. Not having anything else to do, and not looking forward to returning to an empty nest, you agreed easily.

You hadn’t meant to extend your lunch date several hours; it just so happened that way.

And you hadn’t meant to spend essentially the entire day with your handsome, celebrity actor friend whom your fiancé didn’t entirely fancy – it just so happened that way. Or so, you told yourself.

To be honest, you were feeling apprehensive. Jumin had most likely already returned home, and you were unsure what state of mind or being he would be in when he discovered you not there.

The man was desperately concerned for your safety and whereabouts. More so than he needed to be.

The door swung open on its smooth hinges, you toed off your sneakers, and draped your jacket on the minimalistic coat rack that stood plainly by your front door. You took note of Jumin’s briefcase and loafers sitting idly by. I was right. Another sigh. He beat me home.

“Jumin?” You called for your lover softly into the open space. “I’m home. I’m sorry that I took so long – I just didn’t have anything else to do.”

You walked through the penthouse and into your bedroom; you surveyed the California King sized bed, only to find –

Nothing.

Well, nothing – excluding the spoiled white ball of fur that currently lay curled up in the center of the bed.

“Jumin?”

How could your 6 ft something Mr. CEO rich business heir fiancé disappear?

Did he go out again after dropping off his work stuff?

No – he always wears his loafers, and they’re still here…

Perplexed, you spun on your heel and began to walk back towards the hallway.

Maybe he was lounging on the couch –

CLICK

Bright light suddenly filled the bedroom.

A tall, dark figure dashed out from the space behind the open door and ensnared you with its long arms. Large hands spread their spindly fingers over your stomach, interlocking with one another. A pointed chin dug into your shoulder. An angular nose pressed against the right side of your face. Black, glossy hair tickled your neck.

“My love.”

The silky baritone rumbled from the large chest currently pressed up against your back. “You’re home.”

“Ju-Jumin…” You reached a hand up to cup your lover’s cheek, trying to pivot in his embrace so that you could properly greet him.

“I think not.”

Your eyes widened in bewilderment. “What?” You breathed out airily, not sure what was happening.

“You’re late.” Jumin pressed a single, deliberate kiss to the pulse point on your bare neck.

You shivered, not expecting this development, but not exactly displeased either. “In my defense,” you felt him press another delicate kiss to your skin, “I never said what time I’d be home.”

The large hands abruptly spun you around.

Suddenly, your back was to the wall. Jumin towered above you, his palms resting on either side of your head.

“You see, my love,” he leaned in closer, inhaling your gardenia perfume that you applied earlier; his stomach curdled at the thought of you putting it on for anyone other than himself, “That is where you are wrong.”

You were being kissed. Passionately. With lots of pressure.

“You said you’d be waiting for me at home, did you not?”

Fuck.

The hairs stood up on the back of your neck as you stumbled out a lame “Ah, yeah – you’re right.” You licked your bruised lips and made eye contact with his dark irises, only an inch or two away from your face. You gulped. “I’m sorry.”

Jumin let out a dark chuckle.

“You know, my dear… I’ve been working so hard to please you these past several months. I’ve been attempting to tame the beast as Zen so likes to call it. Exterminate my unhealthy feelings of obsession. Possession.” He slipped a knee between your legs. “Even… aggression.” He nipped at your neck. You closed your eyes. He leaned back. “But when you don’t make similar efforts to help me out,” He brought up a large hand to cup your face, you opened your eyes again at the touch, were his hands always so huge??, “it is rather difficult for me to not stray course.”

You blinked before voicing meekly, “is it?”

Jumin gave a curt nod, placing his other hand at the curve of your waist. He breathed your name softly, followed by an inquest: “…do you know what they say about having large hands?”

Your face went beet red. Is he really asking that? So much for maturity…

“Uh… um...”

“Hmmm?” He patiently waited for your answer.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say it.

“Would you prefer I show you in a more… direct manner, then?” Jumin arched a perfect eyebrow, studying your flustered expression, challenging it with his unbothered one.

Still not able to form words or sounds, you gave a single, timid nod.

And then: “Ahahahahah!” Your raucous laughter burst from your chest suddenly, your body reacting before your mind had even processed what had just happened.

That’s when you felt it – those large hands… on your body…

Tickling you. Hard. Frenzied. Up and down your sides.

“AHH hahaha, Jumin!” You shrank down trying to bat away his persistent palms. “Jum- hahaha! Oh my god hahahha,” you craftily pulled yourself from his embrace and ran from the room, still giggling, clutching your tickled sides.

“Oh, you think you can escape that easily ma chérie? This is your punishment!” Jumin shouted heartily at you, laughing himself as he gave chase to your retreating figure.

You rounded the couch, clutching at its backside, panting playfully, not entirely sure what your next plan of action should be to escape your fiancé-turned-tickle-monster.

“Oh? Have you gone into hiding my love?” Jumin loftily proposed to his living room, taking slow steps in a circle as he surveyed the room. “You know that for every second you delay your punishment, the reprimand gets extended twice as long.”

Oh fuck. There was nothing for it. You had to give in now. You weren’t sure how much longer you could endure his tickling once he inevitably trapped you.

“Gotcha!” Jumin appeared at your side suddenly, circling your wrist with his deft fingers. He crouched beside you behind the couch.

“Ah!”

“Oh, did I scare you?” He pouted petulantly, his eyes giving away the merit that he actually felt.

“Yes, how did you even sneak up on me like that?”

Jumin jerked his head to his left, pointing out a certain feline that was staring directly at you, her tail flicking to and fro. Leave it to the cat to give away your position.

“Elizabeth!” You brought a palm to your chest. “I am betrayed!”

The next thing you knew, strong arms had scooped you up bridal style, and you were cradled against an equally solid chest, clothed only in a thin, dress shirt that was unbuttoned at the top.

“Just because you’re cute doesn’t mean that you can escape your fate so easily,” Jumin chastised with a gentle breath of your name.

You looked up at his dark eyes. They peered down at you. Despite his pedantic words, nothing could erase the genuine tenderness that his irises beheld when regarding you.

They narrowed. A smirk overtook his features. His eyes glinted with mischief.

Well, it was a nice thought while it lasted…

Jumin suddenly dropped you.

“Ah!” You landed gracefully onto your bed, bouncing a bit as the mattress dipped to accommodate your form.

Jumin straddled you, pinning your elbows by your sides with his knees.

“Oh, it looks like I’ve trapped my little songbird,” Jumin sighed in contrived melancholy, “There’s nothing for it – she looks so sad. I must give her what is due.”

Your eyes widened in alarm – “wait Jum—!”

He was upon you like a ravenous wolf. His large hands flew over your body once again, surrendering you to his ticklish torment. You let loose uncontrolled giggles, your own small hands desperately trying to prevent his large ones from continuing their delighted assault. Your body responded in involuntary spasms, your breath hitching and releasing peals of laughter. You pounded your fists weakly against his chest as he heightened his tickling by nuzzling his nose into your neck.

The overstimulation, the excess of sensation, it was all too much. Pain mixed with pleasure, your mind and body interpreting the experience in two completely different ways. It was pleasurable. It was torture. It was pure nonsense. It was stinging. It was true gaiety.

“Jumin—!” You wheezed, fighting to string together a coherent sentence despite the hellish delight he continued to inflict upon your vulnerable form, “ahah Jum—aha –in! St—op!”

Out of ideas, and incredibly overstimulated, you decided you had no choice but to play dirty:

“You’re hurting me!”

Immediately, he stopped.

Gone were the conniving eyebrows, replaced with ones knit in concern instead. His open-mouthed smile was instantly exchanged for a downturned frown. He eased his pressure on you, his hands stilling as they now hovered over your body in hesitation, as if afraid you would break at his slightest touch.

Oh no. No no no.

“Jumin, I didn’t actually mean – “

“Darling, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Oh Lord, he sounded miserable.

Your heart leapt in your throat at the anxious tone in his voice.

“It was just a lot, love. I enjoyed it; I really did. You didn’t do anything wrong, please don’t be sad.” You suddenly felt very guilty as you looked at the fretful expression on your lover’s face.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me…” Jumin averted his eyes.

Oh no he doesn’t.

“Jumin,” you placed your hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at you, “I like this side of you. The playful side. The lighthearted side. The affectionate and silly side. I love every side of you. Never apologize for coming out of your shell. Especially to me. I’m your best friend before your lover.” You smiled invitingly. “I shouldn’t have said you were hurting me… I’m sorry. But, we should maybe establish a safe word next time, yeah?”

Jumin’s face morphed into one of gentle bliss, his mouth turning slightly to kiss your palm.

“Deal.” He acquiesced easily. “You know, you’d naturally make quite the good business negotiator with rhetoric like that.”

“Oh?” You liked the sudden vitality in his eyes.

“Would you like me to prove it in a more…” He swallowed thickly, his gaze now hooded by lust and love, “ahh… direct manner, then?”

“God yes.”

❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧ ❧

ZEN has entered the chatroom

ZEN: Hey Ms. Party Planner, did you get home safely??

You were lying on Jumin’s bare chest, both of you long exhausted from the sheer physicality of the day’s events.

You: Yup yup! Thx for asking 😊

Jumin was also on his phone, his arms long enough to wrap around your shoulders and text with both hands at the same time. He gave you a quick peck on the crown of your head. You looked up at him briefly and grinned lovingly.

Jumin: Thank you for entertaining my fiancé today, Zen. I would have hated for her to be lonely.

ZEN: Humph! Yeah yeah. I don’t hang out with her for your gratification.

ZEN: She’s my friend too.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly at the young man’s characteristic defensiveness. Even Jumin chuckled slightly above you. Ever the mediator, you sought to cool things down again for the evening.

You: you know, I can never tell when you two are actually arguing vs. just bantering

ZEN: I’d hate to distress you princess...

ZEN: We can’t have you developing worry lines in your precious skin!

ZEN: perhaps we should come up with a sign that let’s you know what’s up lol

Yoosung has entered the chatroom

Jumin: Oh, you mean like a safe word?

Jumin: Sounds easy enough. Her and I established our own just an hour or two ago.

Jumin:

ZEN: Safe word…….

ZEN:

Yoosung has left the chatroom

Notes:

Wooo! My second MysMe fic! I really loved how adorably fluffy and humorous this one turned out. I have a major soft spot for Jumin -- and I think he is most adorable when he allows himself to act silly. I also was growing tired of the ultimate-daddy-dom-jumin fics (which are great! but I thought, well what if he led MC on like that and then... ATTACKED HER WITH TICKLES AND CUDDLES) As always, you can find me on tumblr @curiousherbal And you may request prompt ideas either here or there :)) I hope you enjoyed this self-indulgent nonsense xxx

[sodamvelvets]

“remember forever”

kim yerim x fem reader

warnings: kinda angst in the middle 

word count: 4,234

a/n: It took forever, but it’s finally done! This story was originally going to end with angst but I felt bad doing that, so the ending will be fluff as usual. I’m hoping to do an Irene fic next :) Enjoy!

The jarring sound of the school bell snaps Kim Yerim awake, the brunette blinking confusedly as she watches her classmates begin to slowly file out of the lecture hall. With wide eyes, Yerim hastily packs her things and stumbles out behind them, her black messenger bag hanging lazily over her shoulder and bouncing against her hip bone with each step she takes. All around Yerim, her fellow students begin to file out of their classes and fill the hallways, their louder than usual chatter signaling the end of a long and tiring school day.

“Kim Yerim!” A sudden force slams into Yerim, jumping on her back, and instinctively she shakes the weight from her body, hearing a loud thunk as she frees herself from her attacker's grasp. Yeri’s expression is one of annoyance as her eyes narrow upon you, her troublemaking best friend, who currently lays groaning on the floor. Wordlessly, Yerim helps you to your feet. 

Yerim scowls at the bashful grin on your face, self consciously glancing around as she hears the snickers of her peers.

 “Shin Y/N,” She hisses into your ear, grabbing your wrist. “When will you quit acting so childish? We’re almost thirteen!”

You raise a brow, pulling away from Yerim’s grasp. “Thirteen isn’t that old,” You say, your pace easily falling in sync with Yerim’s as the two of you exit the school together. “At least not old enough for our moms to let us walk home on our own,” You mutter, digging your hands into your pockets. 

Yerim unintentionally laughs, her irritation with you quickly fading as your lip curves into a pout. “Maybe they will one day,” Yerim says, comfortingly patting your back, even if she doesn’t quite understand why having to walk home with her upsets you so much. 

You beam at the younger girl. “Yeah! I’ll even ask my mom about it tonight!”

Yerim halfheartedly grins in response to your enthusiasm. Truthfully, Yerim doesn’t think she ever wants to walk home without you, or at least not until she has to, but that time won’t come for another three years when Yerim will most likely transfer to some performance arts high school that can better accommodate her trainee life. Until then though, Yerim wants to spend as much time as possible with you and make all the memories she can, before her free time is completely swallowed by her tedious practice hours that are already starting to encroach on her life now. 

You’ve always been supportive of Yerim’s dream, ever since last year when she first told you she wanted to become an idol, and Yerim has always appreciated that, but lately it’s become an unspoken rule to not talk about the future, where you and Yerim will have to go your separate ways. Honestly, the thought of not always being with you scares Yerim. She can’t even remember a time when she wasn’t with you, growing up across the street from each other the two of you became quick friends, as did your mothers, and throughout your entire lives it was always spent together, and Yerim never thought it would be any different. But now that she’s a trainee, she realizes it will be different, and soon.

“Y/N?” Yerim asks suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence that had previously settled between you and her. “We’ll be together forever, right?”

Yerim bites her lips, noticing as a weird look of confusion fills your eyes. “Of course,” You say, your voice laced with worry. “Why would you think we wouldn’t be?”

“I don’t know,” Yerim responds, rubbing the back of her neck. “I guess with me being a trainee now I was just scared about what that meant for us in the future.”

“Oh,” You laugh quietly, reaching for Yerim’s hand. “You think we won’t be best friends then because you’ll have to go to a different school.” Yerim nods and a smirk slowly spreads across your lips as you teasingly punch her shoulder. “Kim Yerim, you’re a lot dumber than I thought. I’m not going to stop being friends with you just because you have to go to a different high school.”

Yeri smiles softly. “Promise?” 

“Promise,” You whisper, interlocking your pinky with Yerim’s. “Besides,” You add. “Three years is a long time from now.”

///

You were wrong, three years is not a long time, Yerim thinks bitterly as she gets ready for her first day at Hanlim and adjusts the bow of her freshly ironed gyobok, her eyes landing on a photograph of you and Yerim from this summer when you went to Everland all the way in Yongin. 

Yerim remembers that day well. You were almost constantly smiling and there was this certain teasing but friendly lilt in your voice as you made fun of Yerim for being too afraid to go on the scarier rides. But what she remembers most clearly is what happened that night, when the two of you returned to your house, Yerim having been allowed to spend the night at your home. She remembers being surprised when you showed her the bottle of soju you had stolen from your parents, and how you and her nervously took turns sipping from it, quickly becoming giggling messes. Despite being insanely drunk at the time, to this day, Yerim can still clearly recall what happened next.

“Wait, you’ve never been kissed?” You laughed in disbelief, your cheeks starting to turn slightly red from the alcohol. “Not even by any of the hot guy trainees?”

“No,” Yerim responded, embarrassedly ducking her head and focusing on the pattern of the rug beneath her. “They’re all gross.”

“Even Minhyung?” You asked with a raised brow, and Yerim rolled her eyes.

“Especially him!” Yerim exclaimed with a fake gag, which caused you to chuckle. It was a well-known fact that Yerim loathed Minhyung, or as he preferred to be called, Mark. The young rapper had much to Yerim’s distaste begun a fruitless and in Yerim’s opinion, a rather shameless pursuit of you two months ago when he had first seen you walking Yerim to the SM training center. 

“Well,” You said, suddenly leaning closer to Yerim, wearing a frown. “I obviously can’t let my best friend go to her fancy idol school without ever having kissed someone.”

And then you gently wrapped your arms around her neck, delicately pressing your lips to Yerim’s for only a few seconds before pulling away with a confident smirk and giggling at Yerim’s shocked expression. “I think you’re ready for Hanlim now.”

Of course, Yerim realizes now you only did that because you were drunk, but she likes to think that you would’ve done it sober too, even if that’s just an impossible fantasy. Yerim sighs, her gaze returning to the image of you and Yerim, which she automatically omits herself from, focusing on you and your relaxed half-grin, that even in an image manages to make her heartbeat quicken, which seems to be a growing problem for Yerim as of late.

Yerim supposes it started sometime during the last year, long before you kissed her, when for some reason you suddenly stopped looking so dorky to Yerim, and less like the awkward best friend of her whole life and more like a beautiful and mature young woman that quite frankly left her speechless. Suddenly, Yerim began to notice the little things about you that despite her years with you had never caught her attention before, like how you would subtly raise a brow when you were annoyed or the way you’d bite the inside of your cheek when you wanted to say something but couldn’t. Yerim was surprised to find that she no longer wanted to slap you when you made your stupid jokes but rather laugh, and even worse kiss you goodbye instead of simply hugging you. 

Yerim never told you any of this though nor did she dare act on it, instead she chose to keep it to herself, which is why you never quite understood Yerim’s hatred for Mark Lee, whom she frequently found herself jealous of, especially when just a week after your kiss with Yerim, you finally agreed to go on a date with him that led the two of you to quickly enter a relationship with each other, and of course everyone loved Mark, especially your parents. Even though Yerim said she was happy for you, always forcing a smile when you would excitedly tell her Mark was teaching you English or that you had plans with him for the weekend, deep down she was upset that she couldn’t be Mark, because sometime in between your walks home together and your whispered secrets in the dark, Yerim started to fall in love with you, her best friend, and all she wants is for you to love her back in the way she loves you. 

“Yerim, let’s go!” Yerim’s head snaps up at the sound of her mother’s voice, eyes widening as she hurriedly grabs her bag and slings it over her shoulder as she races downstairs, yelling a farewell to her younger sisters as she runs out the door, where she sees her mother sitting in the family car, leaning slightly outside the rolled down window and talking to someone who Yerim immediately recognizes as you.

“Yerim!” You call excitedly, apologetically excusing yourself from your conversation with Yerim’s mother as you run to meet Yerim, capturing her in a tight embrace. “Excited for Hanlim?” You ask, pulling away and giving Yerim an impressed look. 

Yerim shrugs, observing your own gyobok, which is a lot simpler than hers. “I guess so,” Yerim chuckles, poking your stomach. “I definitely won’t miss you though.”

You cackle, melodramatically clutching your heart and pretending to have been shot, stopping when Yerim kicks your shin. “That is a lie Kim Yerim,” You say, wearing a knowing grin. “I know for a fact that you adore my presence.”

Yerim crosses her arms, her brow arching upwards. “Do I now?”

“Yes,” You say confidently, tapping Yerim lightly on the nose. “You love me.”

If only you knew, Yerim thinks bitterly, before shaking the thought away. “Unfortunately, you are right,” She huffs, and you smirk in victory.

“I gotta go,” You mutter, checking your watch. “I’ll catch you later Kim Yerim. Have fun with the talented kids,” You tease, and Yerim gasps in offense, moving to hit your shoulder but missing, causing you to childishly stick your tongue out at her. 

“Hey,” Yerim says, grabbing your wrist as you start to leave. “SM is giving student trainees the day off for the first day of school, do you want to do something together after your classes end?”

“I’m so sorry Yerim,” You say with an apologetic smile. “But I can't, I have classes until ten o’clock tonight and I promised Mark I’d practice English with him one more time before my hagwons start next week. I’m really sorry Yerim.”

Yerim internally facepalms herself. Of course, you’re busy, Yerim forgot your school day isn’t cut short like hers is in order to accommodate her training schedule, and even if it was, you’d obviously want to spend your free time with your own boyfriend. Noticing the worried expression that has spread across your face due to Yerim’s silence, she hastily forces out a laugh. “It’s okay, maybe another time then?”

“Definitely,” You promise, lightly patting Yerim’s cheek before pulling away from her grasp. “Have a good day Yerim!” You call over your shoulder as you start to jog away.

“You too, Shin Y/N,” Yerim murmurs waving goodbye, watching as you set off down the sidewalk, heading in the direction of the nearby high school. 

“Ready?” Yerim’s mother asks as she climbs into the passenger seat. 

Yerim nods, taking one last look at your receding form before smoothing her skirt. “Yeah.”

Yerim doesn’t see you much after that day, especially once she was requested to move into the SM dorms following her debut. Sometimes she’ll see you hanging around the dorms with Mark, who like Yeri also managed to debut. The two of you are still going strong even after almost two years. But other than your occasional appearance at the dorms, Yeri doesn’t ever really see you around. Both of you had little to no free time with Yerim’s training and your constant after school studying and hagwons that went all the way until two in the morning. In fact, you’re so busy that she hasn’t personally heard anything from you since the congratulatory text you sent Yerim after her first special stage for Ice Cream Cake, which was over a year ago. 

The most recent time she saw you was a couple months ago when she returned home for Chuseok, having been granted a few days off by her company, and even then it was barely an interaction, just a rapidly uttered hello as you ran past Yerim’s house, chasing after your younger brother and pet dog, with a laughing Mark trailing closely behind, having been invited to stay with your family since he couldn’t return to Canada. Despite the briefness of your encounter, Yerim still remembers the way you looked, your long black hair flowing in the wind, everything about you still as gorgeous as ever. Even after all these years, Yerim was still jealous of Mark Lee. 

Still, Yerim doesn’t blame you for not being able to spend time with her, especially as the days practically fly past Yerim and she soon finds herself already wrapping up her fourth comeback with Red Velvet, Russian Roulette. By now Yerim guesses it’s been almost a year since she saw you on Chuseok, but today, as she determinedly walks up the drive of your house, knowing it’s one of the two Saturdays you have off from school each month, she decides that streak will end. Yerim misses you a lot, and even though she hasn’t seen you in so long, she still loves you just as much as she did before the two of you lost touch, and as Yerim rings your doorbell, she feels hopeful that she can revive your friendship, not even caring that she can’t be the one to hold your heart. She just wants you back in her life in some way, no matter the label of your relationship. 

“Yerim!” Your mother, Mrs. Shin, gasps in surprise as she opens the door, wrapping her arms around Yerim in a tight hug. “It’s been years!” Mrs. Shin pulls away from Yerim, looking at her with a raised brow. “But what brings you here, aren’t you busy with promotions?”

Yerim gapes at Mrs. Shin, somewhat surprised that she’s kept up with Red Velvet’s activities before shaking her head. “No, they just ended actually,” Yerim says, rubbing her neck awkwardly. “I just came by to see Y/N, it’s been a while since we last talked.”

Mrs. Shin tilts her head, an unreadable expression coming over her face. “Y/N?” She echoes, confusion clearly laced in her voice. 

“Yeah,” Yerim laughs uncomfortably, attempting to peer over your mother’s shoulder and look inside your house. “Is she here?”

“Oh Yerim,” Mrs. Shin says softly, sudden realization in her voice as she reaches for Yerim’s hand. “She didn’t tell you, did she?”

“Tell me what?” Yerim asks nervously, dread beginning to build in her stomach.”

“Y/N went to America to study abroad,” Mrs. Shin whispers. “She won’t be back until she graduates.”

You broke your promise, Yerim thinks as tears begin to roll down her cheeks. You promised you’d be with Yerim forever and then you left. Yerim wants to scream, and curse the world, to fly all the way to America tell you how much she hates you, but the worst part is, she can’t do that because she knows she’d be lying. Even after all you’ve done, Kim Yerim still loves you, and she can’t even stay mad at you for leaving. 

///

Yerim sighs softly as her makeup artist, Kyoung Mee, applies her lip liner, preparing the young idol for Red Velvet’s fan meeting happening in less than an hour. 

“All right,” Kyoung Mee says, patting Yerim’s shoulder. “You’re all set.”

Yerim smiles in appreciation. “Thank you, it looks beautiful.”

Yerim bites her lip, looking in the mirror and adjusting her jacket. It’s been four years since that day when she found out you went to study abroad, and even now, you still haven’t officially returned. According to your mother, you had decided to stay in America to study at some high-class med school. Every once in a while, you’ll come to Korea for a brief visit before disappearing again, but no matter how hard she tries to free up her schedule, Yerim always seems to miss you. 

“Yeri’s making that face again!” Yerim jumps at the sound of her bandmate, Park Sooyoung’s voice, Yerim turning in her seat to slap the older girl as she appears behind Yerim, wearing a mischievous smirk. “You hit like a baby Yeri, but I guess it makes sense since you’re the maknae.” 

Yerim rolls her eyes. “Why don’t you give me another try,” She mutters. 

“No thanks,” Joy grins, pinching Yerim’s cheeks. “We can’t have our little baby tiring herself out before the fan meet,” 

“I swear to God Sooyoung,” Yerim growls swatting the older girl’s hand away. “I‘ll kill you one day.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Joy cackles, ruffling Yerim’s hair and taking a seat next to her. “Anyways,” Joy says, leaning back in her chair and stretching out her arms behind her. “Why were you making that face again?”

“What face?” Yerim asks flatly, pulling out her phone and beginning to scroll through her social media. 

Joy shrugs. “The one you make when you think about that Shin Y/N girl.”

Yerim places her phone on the table, meeting Joy’s gaze. “I don’t make a face when I think about her,” Yeri deadpans. 

Joy laughs obnoxiously. “Yes, you do.” 

Yerim crosses her arms. “No, I don’t.”

“Actually, for once Sooyoung is right,” Joohyun, who despite being across the room calls, clearly having been listening to the two younger girls’ conversation. “You totally do. I remember you used to make the same exact face whenever you’d see her and Mark Lee together.”

“Shut up Irene!” Yeri yells, sinking down in her chair, and burying her head in her hands, she feels like an idiot. It’s been five years since she last saw you and yet somehow she’s still horribly in love with you. You, a girl who quite literally left Yerim on her own and has never once even thought of Yerim romantically. 

“I’m sorry Yerim. I didn’t mean to upset you,” Joy says softly after a few moments of silence, reaching out to grab Yerim’s wrist. “But, don’t you think it’s time to move on?”

“I’ve tried Sooyoung,” Yerim murmurs. “I just can’t.”

Joy opens her mouth to say something but closes it when their manager appears with Seulgi and Seungwan lurking behind him. “It’s time for the fan meeting ladies.”

Yerim nods, standing to follow her manager, but Sooyoung stops her. “Will you be okay?” 

Yerim takes a deep breath. “Yeah.” She says, brushing past Sooyoung.  

Yerim is smiling broadly by the time the fan meeting is nearing its end, her precious luvies having improved her mood significantly, each brief conversation and signed album helping her push away any lingering thoughts of you. 

“What the hell?” Yerim hears Irene mutter under her breath, and Yerim briefly peers over at her leader only to find her cheerfully conversing with a female fan, who has hidden their face in embarrassment, and Yerim assumes it’s most likely because of some greasy pick-up line that Irene learned from Seungwan.

Still confused, Yerim looks down the table,  handing a luvie their album back and searching for what could’ve possibly alarmed Irene as she waits for Joohyun to finish things up with the fan she’s currently talking with. But Yerim notices nothing out of the ordinary unless she counts the different order she and her members had decided to sit in today, that leaves Yerim and Irene at the table’s end.

“Excuse me?” Yerim jumps at the sound, her gaze refocusing forwards as the female luvie who had just been chatting with Irene sits down in front of her, wearing a lazy half-grin, and Yerim’s jaw drops. Suddenly, she understands Joohyun’s prior shock. It’s you.

“It’s been awhile Kim Yerim,” You murmur. 

Yerim gapes, taking in your face that’s just as gorgeous and breathtaking if not even more so than she remembers, and she sees that your eyes are still filled with their familiar troublemaking gleam. Tentatively Yerim reaches to touch you, slightly surprised to find she can feel your warm skin underneath her fingers. 

“You’re actually here,” She laughs in amazement, tears starting to roll down her cheeks. 

“Of course I am,” You say, grabbing Yerim’s hand and giving it a comforting squeeze before your lips curve into a smirk. “Hey, when you stop crying can you sign my album?”

Yerim kicks you under the table. “You’re such a jerk.”

///

Yerim’s shoulder brushes against yours as the two of you walk quietly up the stairs that lead to Yerim’s dorm room. The fansign had ended over an hour ago and with Joohyun’s help, Yerim had been able to convince her manager to let her skip the rest of her schedule, allowing her to spend the remainder of the day with you.

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” You say finally as Yerim unlocks the door and ushers you inside, effectively breaking the silence that had previously settled between you and Yerim.

Yerim bites her lip, glancing up at you and noticing the guilty expression on your face. “It’s fine,” She says slowly, guiding you to her bed where she settles herself, motioning for you to do the same and trying her best to keep her voice even as she continues. “But why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d be able to change my mind,” You mutter, your gaze becoming far off as you sit down beside Yerim. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Yerim asks. 

You look at Yerim, smiling slightly. “You’re still dumb as ever Kim Yerim,” You chuckle. “Do you remember Minhyung?”

“Mark?” Yerim nods her head. “Of course.”

“You never liked him did you?” 

Yerim doesn’t respond causing you to laugh loudly. 

“It’s okay,” You say quietly, leaning into Yerim’s side. “I didn’t like him either, at least not in the way I should’ve. Whenever I was with him I was always thinking of someone else. He told me to stay in Korea, but I didn’t listen,” You frown. “I actually ended up breaking up with him over it, but that’s not the point. The point is, I think that if that someone else I mentioned had told me to stay I would’ve, without a second thought. Even if they said the exact same thing Mark did.” 

Yerim’s mouth goes dry as she stares at you, your words from earlier ringing in her ears, that she would’ve been able to change your mind. Yerim thinks of all the times you left lingering touches on her skin that she had never let herself believe were more than friendly. She thinks of how you’d always ask her to sleep in your bed when she’d stay over at your house, even when you were most definitely old enough to sleep alone. She thinks of the dozens of times you rejected Mark before you finally said yes, exactly a week after you kissed her, seemingly giving him a chance out of nowhere. “You weren’t drunk that night, were you?” 

“When I kissed you?” You shrug. “No, at least not enough to not know what I was doing.“

Yerim isn’t sure how it happens, maybe it was all those wasted years of yearning manifesting themself, but suddenly she finds herself hovering over you, gently pressing you into the plush mattress as she moves her lips so tantalizingly close to yours that she can feel your uneven breaths tickling her skin. Yerim doesn’t dare close the gap though, instead searching your eyes for a sign to continue, and all it takes is your subtle nod for her to finally do what she’s been waiting to do for so long, capturing your lips in a kiss that she makes sure shows how long, how much, she’s wanted this, her body falling on top of yours as you pull her into you, and flip the two over so you’re straddling Yerim by her waist. Soft whines escaping Yerim as you run your tongue across her bottom lip, before pressing it into her mouth, tangling your hands amongst Yerim’s hair. 

“You know I meant it,” You breathe out minutes later as much to Yerim’s distaste, you slowly pull away from her, rolling off her and onto your side, allowing Yerim to wrap a protective arm around your body as your head moves to rest on her shoulder.  

Yerim glances down at you. “Meant what?”  

“When I promised you we’d always be together,” You say with a small smile. “I’m transferring to a med school in Seoul this month.”

Yerim’s eyes widen. “I thought you forgot about that promise.”

“No way,” You murmur, reaching to caress Yerim’s cheek. “When it comes to you Kim Yerim, I’ll remember forever.”

[grimoire-of-thirst]

Tulips

Requested by @eri-chan-likes-apples​

Genre&Warnings: Fluff (?)

Tags: none

Summary: Langris confessing to you. Or at least trying to.

✩:✩:✩ 

It was already far too late for him to realize that it was a dangerous territory he was getting into. The Black Bulls’s base was dark, tall, and intimidating, it also gave him some spooky feeling, but upon remembering the reason why he was there a new feeling of confidence boosted into him. He was there to finally ask you out. And he planned everything, from the bouquet of red tulips to the speech in which he’ll declare his love for you.

Four months ago, he didn’t know of your existence, partially due to his lack of interest in meeting new people and because he always thought of your squad as the lowest of the lowest. However, now that he was finally, kind of, getting along with his brother, he had the pleasure to meet you, someone who was way too kind and powerful to be in such squad, or at least, that’s what he thought. Slowly but surely, Langris began to see the Black Bulls members as almost equals, and he slowly fell in love with you. Surprisingly, Finnes was supportive of his new love interest, and she was the one that suggested him to give you some flowers.

Even from the outside of the base, he could hear all the ruckus that your friends were making, and it only served to make his insecurities resurface. His brother’s squad members were known for being reckless, free-spirited, and way too energetic, and some could even be as rude as a human can be. He didn’t see all the them in a good light, only Asta and his brother where the ones that he acknowledge, well, and you of course. 

Hesitantly, he knocked on the door while a lump formed inside his throat. He was nervous, that much was clear, yet, he hoped that nobody would notice it.

After standing for several minutes, he was quick to understand that nobody will answer, probably because of all the noise and screams that were echoing not only inside the castle, but also into the forest that surrounded the place.

Taking in a deep breath, patience running thin as seconds passed, he finally pushed the door open. What he was expecting, he had no idea but surely not this.

One of their female members was sprawled on the couch half-naked surrounded by bottles of alcoholic drinks; two guys were fighting, sparks of electricity and fireballs destroying the walls; Asta was also dragged into the fight, sword swinging into the air cutting through their magic to save the base from being totally and utterly ruined; another man was having a river of blood pouring out of his nose looking at a picture – to which Langris grimaced in disgust thinking of whatever obscenity the man was gushing on; lastly there were two small girls and a creepy looking guy whispering to each other.

Overall, Langris was kind of concerned. He would never admit that aloud, but the Black Bulls were intimidating, especially to someone who had zero knowledge of them. Individually, they were like pests to him, however, when in group, their presence was… heavy, to say the least. 

Now, Langris wasn’t a scaredy-cat, nor someone who could be easily intimidated, but knowing that that particular squad treated each other like a real family, it meant that he will probably have to get along -or at least be tolerated- by them in order to have a chance you.

Luckily, nobody seemed to notice his presence, probably because they were far too busy fooling around, yet, upon taking a better look at the room, his brother was nowhere to be found, nor you nor the captain of the Black Bulls. Even if the doors were now wide open, and he was standing there with that vibrant bouquet of red tulips that would catch anyone’s eyes, none of your squad members seemed to pay any mind to him. Either they were ignoring him, or they really didn’t see him.

He debated with himself if he should just speak up, but they all looked like thugs and if he thought about everything that happened in the past and how close he was to kill his brother (in front of all of them) and how defensive they all got, he doubted they will welcome him with warm smiles.

“Yo!” the sudden hand placed on his shoulder, and the breath that grazed his ear startled him. For a second the color in his cheeks drained, fearing the worst, but when he turned around seeing you, widely smiling at him -the kind of smile that can melt his heart-, his shoulders relaxed.

“What’s up with his nobility visiting outlaws like us? Looking for Finral?” you asked, tone easy and carefree while making your way inside. Langris bit his inner cheek, heat spreading up his neck, reaching his cheeks. He hated how you identified as a thug despite coming from a noble family, and it always made him wonder why you did that.

“You’re a noble too.” He said. Langris really hope that this will get to make you at least slip some information, but you just shrugged, as if that small bit about you was not important. You gave him a cheeky smile before running off toward a small child that was eating. Your quietness, and how you always avoided telling him different aspects of your life, was bothersome to him. But one day, when he’ll finally get closer to you, and gain your trust, he really hoped to at least get a small bit of your backstory.

Yet… Why was he here?

He didn’t have a good enough reason to be here, not at all, he could’ve have waited and asked you out on another day when stumbling on you around town, but his stupid heart wanted to confess his stupid ass feelings, today. He wanted to say many things to you, especially how much he liked you, yet no words would come out of his mouth. He was too proud to be weak, and showing his feelings was far too close to what he defined as ‘weakness’. However, backing out now, after he went all the way to buy flowers and fly to your base to confess, was out of the question.

He opened his mouth, ready to get over with his insecurities and let off his chest all the things he wanted to say, you spoke. 

“Finral will be here shortly. He’s been training with Cap, give him a couple of minutes!’” you shouted from across the room. But while shouting those things, it gained all the attention of the people that were inside the inside, everyone turning around to see who was their sudden guest. Langris didn’t know if it was a good or a bad sign, but from the scowls that were plastered on their faces, it was probably worse.

The first one that approached him was a guy with weird glasses and dual-colored hair. Now, that was the embodiment of a delinquent, at least to him. As the young man made his way toward him, Langris just stared, wondering what could he possibly want from him.

“What does a Golden Dawn knight do in here? Hah?” he asked, growling into his face. Langris however, was unbothered by his approach, if anything, it was annoying him. He wasn’t there to chit-chat with your squad, let alone fight with one of your friends.

“I’m here to ask Y/n out on a date”

After seeing how the place suddenly went dead, and everyone just stared at him in shock, Langris thought that maybe he said something he wasn’t supposed to. Beating around the bush wasn’t his style, and he was a man that preferred to be straightforward with everything.

“Huh?”

“Exactly what you heard, insect” 

“Name’s Magna, you punk!” he screeched, swinging his flame baseball bat up in the air. Asta was quick to calm his senior down, putting himself in between them and avoid another imminent fight. Langris looked to his side, feeling somewhat embarrassed. It was hard to look at all those people in the eyes, especially when his past was still heavy on his shoulders. He couldn’t find it within himself to ask for forgiveness, especially when he wasn’t that close with all those people, and to him, it was enough knowing that Finral already forgave him.

The Black Bulls began to babble among themselves, voicing their thoughts about what he said earlier, yet Langris was not listening to them, far too focused on mentally repeating the speech he had prepared for you. But only when Vanessa pointed at the bouquet he was holding, did the others finally calm down. And Gauche was the first one to comment on them.

“I too gave Marie those flowers, that old hag said it meant something like first love. Fitting for my sweet Marie!” again, blood began to drop out of his nostrils while his eyes were glazed with adoration upon remembering his little sister holding said flowers. Everyone blinked, unfazed by his words, while Magna was the only one that breathed out a “Gross”, soon receiving a glare from Gauche.

“I’m wasting time with you. Like I said, I’m here for Y/n, don’t get in my way” he said, pushing past the Black Bulls and heading toward the same room you disappeared in. After all, he came here to confess his… feelings, not to get all buddy with your squad. To him, it was pretty clear that none of them liked him, and the feelings were reciprocated.

Once you were again in his line of view, Langris confidently approach you. However, it soon dissipated, replacing it with something he could describe as nervousness. It wasn’t necessarily the idea of talking to you that was making him all giddy, but never in his life had he ever expressed his liking toward someone. He was good at expressing his distaste, just like he did for several years with his brother -and everyone else-, but telling out loud someone that he likes them? Never happened before.

Once again, Langris found himself lost in his own thoughts, completely forgetting that he was now standing in front of you, staring at you but not really.

“Langris? Are you constipated?” you asked, slightly concerned by the sudden lack of color on his cheeks. He was pale and looked as if he just saw a ghost, he looked exactly like Captain Yami when he needed to urgently take a dump.

Langris blinked a couple of times, sight focusing on you munching on some cupcakes.

“What?”

You had never, not even once, witnessed a Langris that could muster the face of a lost puppy, and oddly enough, it was quite cute.

“You’re extremely pale, do you need to poo? I can show you where the bathroom is” you said, offering him a pitiful smile, as if you actually believed that he was in need of a chunky dunky. Those were the times when Langris questioned his taste in women.

“No, I actually need to tell you something.” He started. You perked, eyes meeting his own ready to listen to whatever he wanted to tell you. If he had the guts to come all the way to your squad’s base, then it must be something really important.

“You… You’re less useless than the others.”

.  .  .

Now… You had some expectations. When you saw him taking in a couple of deep breaths, you really thought that it must be something serious, and the fact that he looked so solemn, as if he was going to tell you a capital secret, anticipation, curiosity and wonder, bubbled inside of you. Yet, he said… something to which you didn’t know how to react to.

“…Excuse me?”

Langris fucked up. Well... not entirely. He knew that the speech he had carefully prepared won’t come out as perfect as he envisioned, but from the complicated love confession to… that was a total U-turn. But, to his surprise, you didn’t look remotely mad, if anything, you were close to burst into laughter.

“That's… That’s not what I’ve been meaning to say” he said, voice slowly lowering while he turned his face to look at the wall, embarrassed by his mistake. You smiled, leaning on the back of the chair while folding your arms in front of your chest, a cheeky smile blooming on your lips.

“Langris, don’t you know that when you want to get the girl a simple ‘I like you’ can do the trick?” your voice was taunting, and saying that Langris was taken aback was an understatement.

“You knew?”

“Let’s just say that a small little bird whispered it to me. But why don’t you try again?” you suggested, wiggling a bit your eyebrows. His eyes narrowed into slits, bothered by the fact that you already knew about his feelings and acted as if nothing happened. If he knew that you knew that he liked you, then everything could have been much easier, instead of him spending three nights in a row to write down a stupid, almost diabetic speech, that now was fruitless.

He slammed both of his palms on the table, right in front of you, while the stems of the tulips got crushed against the table, finally catching your attention.

“And why didn’t you say anything?” he wasn’t necessarily mad, and you knew, but it could’ve at least avoided him this embarrassing outcome.

“I was waiting for you to confess first because I wasn’t 100% sure if you actually liked me romantically. Also, you have a really unfiltered mouth when turning down someone. I’ll let you know that at the dark market there’s this lady that sells a magic soap called ‘Go-Away-Filthy-Mouth’. I heard it’s pretty good and effective, you should definitely try it!” you said, still smiling at him and completely unbothered by the sudden proximity.

“I’ll be back tomorrow at six sharp. We’re going on a date.”

“Not unless you say the magic words.”

Langris cocked an eyebrow, as if you weren’t really asking him to do it.

“Either you say them, or go home. You can’t get the milk if you don’t get the whole cow first.”

“Did you just compare yourself to a cow?”

“Wha-No! I’m the milk and the cow are the magic words!”

“That doesn’t make sense, there’s no reason to get the cow if I can buy the milk.”

“But you can’t buy my love~”

At this Langris just sighed, yet, an amused smile had been present on his face since the beginning of the ‘conversation’. That was the reason why he liked you; the nonsensical stuff that could pour out of your mouth was always pleasant to him.

“I like you” he started, finally giving you the tulips that he had been holding the entire time. “Would you consider going on a date with me?”

“See? It wasn’t that hard! And yes, I’ll gladly enlighten your tomorrow with my presence!”

Langris just rolled his eyes before turning around and finally exiting the Black Bulls base, with a stupidly foolish smile plastered on his face. The whole confession didn’t necessarily go as he initially planned, but it turned out better than he hoped. 

✩:✩:✩ 

A/n: So, this took longer to do -two whole weeks- because I had little to no details/ideas to work on. Please, when requesting, read the rules, If you just send me a request like “character x reader fluff” I can’t do much, and it will take me longer to actually get it done. Anyways, I hope that you enjoyed reading this shot, and thank you for taking the time to read it! 

Hope you’ll have a wonderful day/night!

[lennydaisy]

EPIPHANY // OUTER BANKS

The Outer Banks. Paradise on earth. Well, it is if you can afford it.

Figure 8, home of the portentous and intitled. So detached from reality that you'd have to use their private jets to bring them back down to the ground. If they're not lounging around on their secluded beaches in front of their White House sized mansions, then they're at the country club complaining that their ice-cold lemonade isn't ice-cold enough. We call them Kooks. Guess where I don't live?

Next up, The Cut, neutral habitat of, drum roll please ladies and gentleman... The Pogues. Lowest members of the food chain. You see, it's one island divided in two. You either have two houses or two jobs. I have two jobs and will still never be able to afford one house, let alone two, but that's life I guess. The Pogues are like those kids your parents tell you to stay away from when you visit the park. Well, now the park has stretched to all aspects of life warranting us to be unwanted and neglected which isn't such a bad thing, that just means we get to do whatever we want, whenever we want.

Right now, however, this is the last place I want to be. Save-A-Lot. One of my two jobs. See how this all ties in?

The continuous, subtly, beeping of the scanner, the bright overhead lights that the same moth has been flying into for a week now, that one cart that you can hear before you see, and this frustratingly itchy, red polo shirt that I'm wearing because it's 'oh-so mandatory'.

It's been reported that a storm is going to hit us in a couple of days, so naturally, the stores been busier than usual, with both Kooks and Pogues. It's like sacred land, all differences get put aside in this very store unless there's a two for one deal at the seafood counter. In that case, no one's safe, not even me, the poor, little employee. I've been slapped with a Tuna Fish before. I don't want to talk about it.

"Can I interest you in some... What are they again? Sea salted chocolate with a crushed Macadamia nut shell and a rich creamy filling, homemade by Mrs Adams?" I squint at the packaging before smiling at the man before me who peered at me, head tilted slightly. Nodding instantly, already knowing the answer, "I don't blame you, I wouldn't trust anything made by that lady."

Smashing my fingers on the scratch invested, touch screen register, slapping the side of the machine until it eventually rings up the total, "That'll be $148.98 however, you get the extended family discount, so that makes it..." twirling my finger around the air, attempting the mental math, "10% off $148," I utter, closing my eyes as if that's going to help me find the answer quicker. 'I knew I should have joined the math team with Pope.'

"$134," the man affirms looking at me sympathetically, halting my search for my calculator that is normally taped to the till. I take the mans money, squinting at him, "Okay, I'll take your word for it man but if I get fired, I want a job at The Wreck," handing him his receipt.

"We'll see," he said putting his packed bags back into his cart, "I'll get through to you one day. You can't deny I'm your favourite" I state in a matter of fact, waving him off as he pushes his cart away from the checkout, "Bye Mason."

"I don't hear you denying it," I shout, watching him hurridly pushing his cart towards the door, "Okay bye Mr Carrera, tell Kie I said hi!"

Twirling around in my chair a couple of times, I came to a stop at the sight of a pink calculator, my pink calculator, taped to Mrs Adams till. That Bitch. I sit patiently for her to be done with her customers, waving at the elderly couple as they pass, "See you later Mr and Mrs Graham, have a nice day," I smile.

"Oh you too Mason, you should stop by again, you and your friends were such a delight the last time," Mrs Graham praises tapping her ringed fingers on my counter. Nodding at her request as her husband began to drag her away from me, claiming he 'Wants to be home today not tomorrow,' knowing his wife to be quite the blether.

"What a pleasant young lady. Wouldn't you agree, Marty?"

"Oh yes, very well mannered."

"Listen here, sticky fingers, I know you stole my calculator" My smile instantly dropping as I look upon the thief that I have the pleasure of calling my co-worker.

Mrs Adams is your typical grandma. Tonged hair, thick-rimmed glasses and filled with opinions that are always unwarranted. She has had it out for as long as I can remember, once locking me in the walk-in freezer claiming to not know I was in there despite being in there with me moments before. At least I only have to deal with her a few days a week, I couldn't handle any more than that.

"What calculator?" she questions innocently. Pointing my finger accusingly at her till where low and behold, sits my calculator, "Oh really, what's that then?"

Sparing a glance at my calculator, she shakes her head, nose pointed up, "That's an anniversary gift from my husband. I, by no means, stole your calculator."

I can't believe I'm having this conversation.

Laughing at her alibi, "Are you aware of how much bullsh-", the clearing of a throat interrupts my tangent and I suddenly became aware of where I am again. Mrs Adams raises her eyebrows at me, is she mocking me? Glaring at her one last time as to say 'this conversation isn't over', I timidly spun my chair back around, plastering a smile on my face, getting ready to greet my next customer.

Oh no.

"Hi, Mr Cameron," I greet the man, scratching behind my ear hoping he didn't overhear me. Beginning to scan his items, another figure catches my eye.

Rafe.

Here, ladies and gentlemen, I present the biggest dickhead on the entire island. He thinks everybody owes him something just because his daddy is well known throughout the OBX and has no problem expressing his distaste for anyone who doesn't fit his agenda. He's a cocky, arrogant snob who needs to be knocked off his podium a few inches, or feet.

"Hello, Mason, and how many times have I told you to call me Ward?"

"Clearly not enough for me to listen," I mutter under my breath, passing the already packed bags towards a very accepting Rafe, who snatched them with a scrawl printed on his face, "Your face will stay like that if the winds change" I advise innocently, waving my fingers around my forehead area, "Don't want to get any wrinkles, but if you need some anti-ageing cream, I'm sure Mrs Adams can recommend a few of her favourites,"

"Maybe even get you a coupon," I suggest finishing to scan the last of their items, "Isn't that right, Mrs Adams," I called to the lady over my shoulder how instantly peeped up at the chance to chat with the boy.

"Oh, yes. Come here deary, I'll show you my collection,"

It's no secret throughout the OBX that Mrs Adams is a bit of a renowned cougar, having no problem expressing herself towards any sort of male attention. Mrs Adam doesn't discriminate, so even assholes like Rafe can't escape the clutches of her fondness, but she's harmless... most of the time.

Ward nudges his son in the direction of the lady, who is eagerly waiting for the boy with her creams placed in an orderly fashion before her. Rafe's eyes practically begging for his dad to have some mercy on him only to earn a point in her direction.

"I hate you," he huffs at me, feet dragging towards the ladies till.

Fluttering my eyes with a cheesy smile, "I know," I say before turning to finish Mr Cameron's groceries.

"That's $236 please," I state ringing up his total as he slides his card into the swipe machine, "It'll take a minute, a caveman has better technology than this place." He shakes his head at me, waving his hand slightly, understanding.

"Sea salted chocolate, uh?" he wonders picking up the bar, as I mentally slap myself for forgetting to ask if he was interested, "Would you like to buy one?" I questioned despite already knowing his answer. It's the same one that I've heard all day.

Placing the packet back in its place he shakes his head, "No thank you, I wouldn't trust anything made by that lady."

"That's what I'm saying," ripping off his receipt before handing it to him, "Thank you, Mason," he laughs before turning towards his son, who is still listening to Mrs Adams ramble on about why she prefers Olay over Caudlíne.

About to bid farewell to the man, he turns and asks, "I hate to be a bother and I know it's short notice, but would you mind babysitting Wheezie for me on Saturday morning, I know you don't normally work weekends, it's just this storm's going to cause a run-in with my properties and-"

"Of course I will, Mr Cameron," I interrupted his ramble. He looks at me relieved, nodding his head, "See you later, Mason."

"Bye Ward," gross, I'm sticking with Mr Cameron.

Watching as the pair walk past my till I can't help but laugh as I see Rafe slouching away with a tub of Olay Anti-ageing cream. Turning around at the sound, he flips me off, "I'll get you back for this," earning a shoving on the shoulder from his dad, but I can't help but wave cheerily, "Oh, I'm sure you will."

Mr Ward Cameron, my other boss. A few years ago I put up flyers with a tear-off of my phone number offering a babysitting service. Safe to say, I got my fair share of prank calls and when I got a call from someone claiming to be Mr Cameron I assumed it was someone messing with me again, but it turns out it wasn't. He genuinely needed someone to watch his youngest daughter Wheezie and I needed cash, and he does pay generously, especially now considering recent circumstances.

Glancing at the clock that is nailed above the exit I see that it's 2:00 P.M, the best time of my day, getting out of here. Grabbing the key from my pocket, I lock up the till before heading toward the poor excuse of a staff room.

Glancing around the room blue painted room, making sure no one is still on their lunch, I quickly grab my bag and dash over to the fridge. I never, and mean never, condone stealing, that's why I don't call it that. I prefer 'borrowing and then 'forgetting' to give it back'. Sure, I never asked if I could 'borrow' the alcohol that I am currently stuffing in my bag but, that's neither here nor there.

I throw my bag, which I can already tell is going to cause my back hell, over my shoulder. I grab Kie longboard, which I did ask for permission to use, and begin to make my way past the checkouts.

Before leaving, I pivot around, "Hey, Mrs Adams," I called out just to see that she was already glaring in my direction, a bit creepy if you ask me, "Don't worry, you've only got like what, another 6 hours?" acting like I didn't know as I pointed at the clock.

"Oh, and before I forget," I rush over to her counter and rip my calculator off her till. Smiling sweetly at the older lady, saluting her as I leave, "See you next week, Mrs Adams," I laugh, running out the door, jumping onto the longboard.

Let the fun begin.

Now there is something about my friends that you should know. As cheesy as its sounds, we're a group of misfits who happen to fit perfectly together, well almost perfectly, but no matter what we've got each other backs.

Now, where do we start?

JJ Maybank. We've been best friends since the third grade after he got into a fight with some kids who were making fun of me for having a 'boys name', and I haven't been able to get rid of him since. He's the guy who jokingly pushed me off the HMS Pogue only to quickly find out that I couldn't swim. I insisted that it was fine but JJ doesn't take no for an answer and took it upon himself to personally teach me.

He's the most loyal guy I know, willing to drop anything to help his friends. I most definitely developed my kleptomaniac tendencies from him and despite how much I deny it, I have a soft spot for him.

Next, Kiara Carrera or Kie, my best and only girl friend. I met Kie during her first year at the Kook Academy, I had seen her around before, passing out leaflets about how 'we're killing our planet' and that 'the turtles deserve better'.

I was about to go fishing with my dad when I saw someone sitting at the dock, feet dangling in the water. Long story short: she was supposed to meet up with some of her 'friends' but they had sailed away leaving her behind. So, I asked if she would like to come fishing with us, half expecting her to say no, being partly a Kook and all, but she said yes. And now she's one of us, the Pogues. Not sure how her parents feel about that, but there is no denying I'm their favourite. Right?

There's Pope Heyward. I met Pope in the first grade. We were sitting beside each other at assembly and he dared to tell me that my singing voice sounded like cats dying, not that he was any better mind you. I had seen him around the cut a few times, helping his dad with deliveries and after seeing him struggle to carry four bags of groceries, I offered him some help. Of course, being a stubborn 6-year old boy, he delined saying 'I don't need your help, I'm super strong'. Safe to say, two seconds later I was carrying two bags and helped Pope and Mr Heyward with the rest of the deliveries that day.

I got an earful from my dad when I got home, but I didn't care, I'd made a friend that wasn't my brother. They didn't believe me when I said I had a friend called Pope, just brushing it off as one of my imaginary friends. Let's just say they got a fright when my 'imaginary friend, Pope' showed up at the Château.

Speaking of, up next, John Booker Routledge, John B. My twin, fraternal twin. Is 12 minutes older than me and will never let me forget it. My favourite memory with John B was when he fought to the death with our triplet in the womb. Okay, maybe that didn't happen, but you weren't there so, where's your evidence that it didn't?

He's my other half, not my better half because we all know I'm the better twin, and I couldn't live with him and his optimism. He can be irrational at times, but he always has plan A-Z mapped out in his head. I'm currently trying to convince him that we psychic powers, and by currently I'm mean from the day we were born. It's a weird sensation like there's a pit in the bottom of my stomach, and once I get that feeling I know that something's not right. And with a brother like John B, I get that feeling at least 3 times a day.

Might as well introduce myself whilst I'm at it. I'm Mason, Mason Routledge. The better twin. Yes, I too, have a middle name but I will never tell it to anyone because of how utterly embarrassing it is. I have managed to swear John B to secrecy, but I know it's just a matter of time before he blurts it out.

Now I know what you're probably thinking, 'Mason? That's a boys name.' Well yes, you'd be right but really what is a boys or girls name? The reason why I'm called Mason is simple, mom and dad were expecting twins. Twin boys. They had the names planned out as soon as they heard the news. One would be named John B after our dad, Big John, and the other would be named Mason, after our mom's dad. Makes sense, right?. Well, it was until I popped out, y' know not being a boy. But I love my name and I wouldn't change it for the world. My unspoken middle name, however, yes, I would rather that just not be associated with me.

I like to believe that I can hold my own, maybe it's because I grow up in a predominantly male household or the fact that I'm a Pogue, but I don't take peoples shit. My friends and I seem to always have the world against us, but without a doubt, I'd ride or die for them. They're my family.

Seeing the all too familiar hippie van parked at the side off the road brings me out of my autopilot state. Jumping off the longboard, I hurriedly shoved it into the back of the van. Fun fact about John B's van, he never locks it. There would be the fear about someone stealing it, but honestly, it's trashed and smells like weed, no thanks to JJ.

Quickly scaling the fence and as quietly as possible I tip-toed into the under-construction house and up the cement stairs, dodging the dangling wires and leftover pots of plaster.

'I can't believe they got rid of the turtles for this'

I'd know that voice anywhere. Peering around the corner, I spot Kie, hunched over a table reading what I'm assuming is maps for the house. Coming up with an idea, I slowly start to creep towards her, raising my hands just to clasp them down on her shoulders, "And what do you think you're doing?" I say in the deepest voice I can muster.

Jumping out her skin with a squeal, she spins around, hand over her heart, breathing heavily, "Macy, what the fuck? Don't do that," she exclaims, slapping my arm after she realises it was only me.

Unable to stop myself from laughing at her shock, "God, Kie, didn't know you had such a girly scream," I wheeze, arms wrapped around my stomach in an attempt to stop the ache.

Nodding her head pettily, "Yeah okay, you got me," clicking her tongue, but against her best efforts, a small smile dances across her face.

Taking a few deep breaths to calm my giggles, "Once you're done with sad girl hours, come out back, I've got beer," making my way towards the open glass doors.

"Caring about the turtles doesn't make me a sad girl," she exclaims as I nod my head understandingly, "You keep telling yourself that," I wave stepping outside, breathing in the fresh ocean breeze.

From under the scaffolding, I see a pair of dangling legs, "Afternoon, boys," I announce, jumping up in an attempt to smack the dangling feet that I now know belong to JJ

"Did you get the goods?" asks John B causing me to hold my hand on my heart, mocking insult, "Do you have no faith in me Johnny boy," tosing him a beer, "Of course, I got the goods."

Holding one out for Pope, even though I knew he would decline, proving my point as he shook his head, "And where did you get said goods?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at me.

Grabbing two beers, I begin to climb up the scaffolding, plopping down next to JJ, handing him a beer which he greatly excepts, "Are you question my morals?" I ask, taking a big gulp of my beer instantly wincing at the lukewarm taste.

"No, no," I hear him say, turning around, occupying himself with the builder's tools.

It a pretty view from up here. The calm crashing of the waves. The way the cold ocean and the warm sky meet for a perfect kiss on the horizon. Imagine living here. Having no worries. Being full Kook.

Glancing at the boy beside me, I see that he was already looking at me. Lifting my eyebrows in question, "You look cute," he cheekily says, picking at the loose thread on my sleeve.

"Very funny JJ," I saying, looking back out at the water, "No, I'm serious. I love a woman in uniform," nudging his shoulder into mine and I nudge him right back, "Hey," he laughs, dramatically falling to his side, "Watch the sweet nectar," holding his can of beer dearly to his chest.

Shaking my head, I turn to see John B scaling the house, jumping up to the peak of the roof, "Hey, please be careful, Johnny B, we don't earn enough to cover a medical bill," I warn sitting my beer beside me, using my hands to block the blinding sun, staring questionably at the boy.

"Oh, but you'd catch me though, right?" he says, now taunting the idea of falling, balancing on one foot with outstretched arms, "And break your fall? Nope," I popped, reach over to grab my can only to grasp the air. Looking at where I know I placed it, my confusion vanishes when I hear the sounds of slurping beside me.

Blinking at the boy, who just peers back at me after tanning my can, crushing it, and letting out a pleasant burp which he so graciously blows in my direction, "Gross, JJ," attempting to swat away the smell. The boy just shrugs, "What were you not done with that?" faux concern covering his face but his eyes glistening with knowing mischief.

"Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump. I'll shoot you on the way down," says Pope, aim a drill in my brother's direction, "You'll shoot me?" John B taunts, holding up a finger gun, "Pow," he laughs as Pope fall back onto the table pretending to be shot.

"They're going to have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," complains Kie, slugging her way onto the balcony, voicing her distaste for the future Kook's beach house.

"Didn't I tell you to come out when you were done being sad?", I direct, leaning my chin against the cold pole, feeling on top of the world as the fresh breeze blows through my hair.

That swiftly changes when Kie dashes towards my feet, tugging the laces on my converses loose as I hastily attempt to lift my feet away from her snapping fingers, "Go away!" I exclaim hugging my legs to my chest, tusking at her antics "God, you're annoying."

My comment doesn't affect her as she blows me a kiss which I can't help but catch, holding it to my heart sending a wink in her direction, "This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtle I guess?"

"Well, I did, but since you've-" I start, but the feeling of my shoe gets tighter distracts me, "...What are you doing?" I question as JJ finishes up my shoes, "You should double knot your laces," he comments, tapping his fingers in a random beat on the toe of my shoes.

Lightly, I begin to flick his hand away only for him to grab my wrist, fiddling with the silver ladybug charm on my bracelet, "Can I have this?" He has asked me this multiple times in the past and the answer has always been the same, "No."

"Can you please not kill yourself?" Kie squints up at my brother, "And don't spill that beer, you're not getting another one," JJ adds just as a sudden gust of wind brushed past causing John B to lose his balance and drop his beer.

Jinx.

"Oh, shit. No!" cries John B, making grabby hands at his fallen beer.

"Of course you did, like right when I told you."

"Smooth."

"Well done, dumbass!"

"Hey!"

The sound of a car pull up to the driveway halts our attack on John B, yelling being heard, "Hey, uh, securities here. Let's wrap it up," confirms Pope, making JJ and I raise to our feet as John B slides off the roof, "Boys are here early today."

Rushing over to grab my bag once my feet are back on the balcony, I lean over the railing squinting, "Gary? Is that you?" I asked, "You know it's me, Mason."

Turning around to look at friends, "It's Gary guys," I smile, "Gary, good to see you, man!" JJ adds and quickly pulls the back of my bag when he sees Gary climb up the stairs, "JJ!"

"You two, are asking for it," Kie laughs as we all rush back through the house, all of us laughing and cheering, running down the stairs, "Go, go!" I giggled as I Gary's attempts to grab me but I duck under his swinging arms, running out to the garden.

"Not much of a hugger man," JJs joke echoing off the empty wall of the house.

Running up beside Pope, I urge him up over the fence, "Come on, Pope, go, go, go," landing on the other side, watching as he lands flat on his face, "Graceful as always Pope," I giggle pulling him back on his feet.

"Come on Pope, Fatso's coming" JJ encourages, suddenly landing beside us just barely missing the hot-headed security who is dangling over the fence, "Come here, you little pricks!"

"Bus is leaving," John B pulls up the van honking the horn, Kie opening the door for us, laughing as we shove each other in. John B wastes no time hitting the gas, driving away from the angry security.

"Check out Gary, gunnin' for a raise," Pope laughs as we watch a hopeless Gary chase after the van.

Having an idea, JJ unzips my bag and leans out of the open door, "Come on Gary," he taunts, waving the beer can in front of the man like you would a dog with a treat.

"You're going to give him a heart attack," Kie sympathises but still finds his actions amusing, "You're so close! You can do it. There you go," he tosses the can at the poor man who attempts to dodge it.

"God, they don't pay you enough, man" I laugh peering out the door, taking in the sight of Gray who is wheezing with his hands planted on his knees.

Seeing enough torture for one day, Kie tugs us back in, "That's enough," she says finally feeling sorry for the poor man, sliding the door close.

"Oh, come on. That sort of initiative is just begging to be punished," reasons JJ, plopping down in the back of the van, now finding interest fiddling with the blunt he pulled from his back pocket.

I lean my head on Kie's shoulder and sigh, "I love Gary," I confess, earning a flick on the head from Pope and a nudge on the leg from JJ

We're the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time, all the time.

Prologue: FIN!

What did you think?

I’m really excited to explore Mason’s character and her adventures with the Pogues. I have so much planned for her.

I hope you enjoyed this introduction <3