#literally such a rare find holy fucking shit I’m shaking

[sorrowfulrosebud]

I BOUGHR THE COMPLETE OG HIGURASHI SET ON EBAY FOR £10 OMFG

[that-salty-ghost]

As Above, So Below | Chapter 15: The Proust Effect | Viktor [Arcane] // Male Reader | Rating: M Throughout

A/N: The Proust Effect: A memory evoked by a smell, sound or other involuntary sensory stimulus that triggers a vivid, emotional reliving of a forgotten event in the past.

// 🎧 Mood Music if you're into it: Past Lives [remix] by Dj Agos 🎧 \\

Holy shit. So, we’re talking about this.

The number of emotions that swarm you is nearly overwhelming.

Confusion. Let’s start there.

Did you mishear him? Maybe you misunderstood him? Trying to wrap your head around the fact that he’s thought about taking you out…or thinking about you in that way at all? It just seems so otherworldly—not something that could happen to you.

“Another place in mind…” Your voice thins out and you can’t even find it in yourself to be pissed about it with how frazzled you are right now. He looks over at you and cocks a brow, unsure of what you’re asking until you try to complete your thought. “For a…y’know?”

Viktor catches on to where you’re going and tries to ease your struggle by answering your unfinished question.

“Date? Yes.”

His eyes illuminate with the slightest bit of humor, probably because he can say the word without tripping all over himself. He snuffs out the cigarette under his shoe and tips his head towards the street, suggesting you should both keep moving. “We still have a couple blocks to go.”

Disbelief.

You’re a barista…no, ex-barista with a muddled reputation at best—finding solace only when someone hadn’t heard of your father and his fuck up that cost more lives than he was ever worth. And on that rare occasion, you were more than happy to be the son of no one.

That and you barely have a scrap to your name. This boy met you in a literal scrap pile for christ’s sakes, and it’s only a matter of time until he’s topside basking in the sun sippin’ on…whatever the hell they drink up there. What would someone like him ever be doing on a date with someone like you? Maybe he’s not even talking about you at all right now…

You jog to catch up with Viktor and walk alongside him again. He glances over to you, looking positively smitten while you’re still sorting through the number of emotions coursing through you.

Curiosity.

“A date. Like in general?” You’re falling off hard with keeping your composure, your hand is starting to shake, and you’re starting to wonder if you’ve developed an addiction to nicotine.

Great. That sounds expensive.

“In general?” He furrows his brows, seemingly quite confused at that prospect. “I’d prefer it be with you.” His tone bends at the end and he chuckles under his breath at the suggestion. “I thought that much was obvious.”

You half laugh at his last remark. “I—no, how would that be obvious?”

“I was trying to ask you yesterday at the coffeeshop, but you had that shift at the bar.”

“Y—you did?”

You think back and recall him asking if you enjoyed his company enough to see him again and…oh.

Yeah. Okay. You see it now.

“Yes.” His tone is still light and airy, like all of this was common knowledge and accessible at any time. “Although, I wasn’t really sure if I was your ehh…type.” You catch him eyeing his cane before looking forward as you round a corner with him. “I suppose I’m still not sure, actually.”

“You mean guys?”

“Among other things.” The way he says it makes you wonder what he really means by ‘type’, causing you to finally gather some confidence so you can squash any doubt he might be feeling.

“I happen to like all of your…things.”

…What. The fuck. Was that?

Viktor tries to hold back a laugh, but his flittering shoulders give him away. It’s hard to be mortified with your lackluster response when he’s smiling at you with this much enthusiasm regardless. You feel your expression mirror his and notice the smallest bit of color start to collect on his cheeks before he speaks.

“Enough to maybe…go on that date…with me?”

You recognize the way he worded his question—his wry grin confirming that this was exactly what he tried to ask you the first time.

You come up to a worn-down building when your last unchecked emotion creeps in.

Anxiety.

Pure, straight up, unadulterated nerves that clutches your heart and lungs so tight that you have to make a mental note to breathe.

He doesn’t know who you are yet, there’s no way. You were hoping you could coast under the radar, even just for the rest of today but it looked like this reprieve may have run its course.

He’s waiting for you to respond, eyes just as big as they were yesterday as you both come to a stop.

“Viktor, I…don’t think you’d want to do that if the Academy is interested in you.”

His expression shifts from hopeful to skeptical.

“What makes you say that?”

You pause and try to keep your eyes on his, you owe him at least that much. “My name is no good.”

“I happen to like it.”

“No, I—” Your sentence stutters off into oblivion once you catch that he’s flirting with you—you can’t fight off the smile that sneaks onto your lips. His words disarm you to your core and you can feel heat rising into your cheeks despite the chill in the air. The weight of explaining yourself only feels heavier when his gaze holds yours with nothing but certainty and purpose.

“I mean my reputation.”

“Which one?”

Your mouth parts as your brow arches, his question throws you off and he seems to catch it when his expression shifts again.

“What do you mean which one?”

He hesitates as he inhales, holding eye contact with you before a small smile forces his brows to raise thoughtfully. “I’ve seen your family’s crest before. The one from your bottle.”

Your mouth begins to shut as his words start to sink in. “Where, on a molotov?” You’re only half joking. Your father helped arm the Lanes with them before the enforces came to raid the town.

“No.” He hooks his cane around his arm and pulls the front of his jacket from his chest. You can’t take your eyes off of him while he dips a hand into a pocket lining the inside of it and pulls out a metal tin.

At first, you’re not quite sure what he has. He eyes the lid and rubs his thumb over it before holding it out to you. You reach out to grab it, but your fingers slowly start to curl in on one another once you see the etching in the metal.

There’s a crude triangle crossed with a single diagonal line, to anyone else it would look like scribbles or maybe even runes. But to you, it was your attempt at carving a bow and a rifle into the containers your mother used for salves when you were a boy.

Your hand is still hovering over Viktor’s and your mouth never quite closed like you wanted. You figure your expression must be soft because when you glance up at him, his jaw immediately goes slack and his lips begin to part. It looks like he’s about to speak, but he never does.

You allow your fingers to press into his palm while you nervously start pick up the tin. Hesitation overcomes you once you feel the metal in your grasp and you’re not sure if you’ll be able to lift it from him.

Viktor picks up on your reaction and curls his thumb over your knuckle, rubbing over it gently to help slowly close your fingers around the container. He glances up to meet your eyes and gives your hand a small squeeze before letting go—a simple gesture that brings you more comfort than you could describe.

You hold the tin in your palm and use your other hand to trace the engraving similar to how Viktor had. The metal edges that you knew were once jagged are now smoothed down from years of handling. Scratches and scuffs line the bottom, causing you to smile since it’s clearly been dropped, dragged, and used regularly. The exposed wear and tear serving as a telltale sign that this salve has been much needed and well loved.

You move to slide the lid off and have to force yourself to remember this isn’t actually yours. You look up to Viktor and find him completely captivated by your movements. His eyes are heavy, but kind and you don’t even have to ask him if you can open it. He simply tips his head up at you, understanding your silent request.

Once the lid is off, all of your suspicions are confirmed. This is a cardamom salve for soothing joint pain and inflammation. You think he must use it for his leg, but if he keeps it in his jacket pocket that explains why you got a whiff of it when you put it in your bag yesterday.

This is also one your mother made years ago and you almost forgot just what it smelled like. You haven’t been able to completely replicate her technique and the familiar scent pulls you back to into your home you grew up in. The cool breeze from the window putting goosebumps on your arms while you watched her blend oils with wax, reading and writing runes to improve efficacy. You could almost hear her voice again, almost feel the leather handle of the blade you used to carve your family’s insignia, almost smell the rain that fell on you as you walked with her to drop the salve off for “a boy about your age.”

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A/N: There's this big oleee pinned post on my page that's god more chapters in case you're looking for more while I finish adding the chapters to tumblr :3

[gojology]

Let Me Spoil You. (18+) (NSFW)

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆 | I AM FEEDING U GUYS SO GOOD ???? holy mother of a goose i poured my blood sweat and tears into this, bumping to yung gravy as i write this so u alrdy know this is gonna be a banger!!! also i didn’t edit at all and i got so lazy at the end n i didnt wanna scrap this so uhh sorry if its bad 𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 | Dom Gojo x Sub Female Reader 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 | 3683 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 | Dub-Con (I think?) Inexperienced Virgin Reader, Somnophilia, Degradation, Dom/Sub, Edging, Begging, Spitting 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 | It’s your one month anniversary, and you really don’t like Gojo spoiling you, Gojo gets frustrated, he teaches you a lesson.    A soft orange filter glazed the bathroom, a humid breeze blowing in weakly from the window that was always open, no matter what. The shower head lightly sprinkled on you, mumbling curses to the shower head, you swatted, and lightly tapped it a few times before you realized you had to change the water pressure.     Facepalming, you hadn’t realized that you had changed the water pressure to ungodly levels. It was too late when you had realized, the water shot at your face, practically pushing you back. Water droplets adorned your cheeks, and your hair suddenly decreased in volume.     Gasping for air, you used your arm to wipe your eyes and quickly turned the temperature up to anything other than the freezing bitter cold, you stretched, indulging in the refreshing, hot water.    You had just gone out with Gojo for a luxurious dinner, even though it wasn’t quite your style, Gojo had insisted on taking you out to a fine-dining establishment. Small cuts of steak, with absurdly expensive champagne on the side, and of course, Gojo’s favorite, absurdly expensive desserts.    It had been almost a month since you had began to go out with him, and he had tried treating you like a princess ever since. Anything you set your eyes on, he offered to buy it, whipping out a black leather wallet that was close to snapping. Thick wads of cash sat untouched, and you always politely declined.     He had always argued with you, telling you that it was a given for significant others to spoil their loved ones. You always brushed it off, but in the latest argument between you two, Gojo was persistent, insisting that you were to dress in your finest and so that he could, “finally spoil my babygirl.”     You could still remember how the conversation went.     “No, Satoru.” you scoffed, turning to face him, leaning on the counter. Your arms crossed over your chest, “We can get JUST as good food if we order take out or some shit.”     “Listen, sweetheart,” he immediately rushed over, his hand on your ass, rubbing up and down, his other caressing your neck. “It’s nothing on me financially, I can handle it, I want to spoil you princess.”     You shook your head, looking down. He took his hand off your neck and rubbed his.     “I rarely get to spend time with you, between the meetings and the missions and training Yuuji, so let me do it just this once, is that okay, pumpkin? Besides, what do you lose from this? I made the reservation too, so we don’t have to wait. It’s a win win~”    You glanced up, before looking down again, ruffling your hair. An awkward silence grew between you two.    What did you lose from this? Even though Gojo was absolutely loaded, you still felt terrible spending money for unnecessary shit.    He looked at you, placing his hand on his chin, he looked like he was thinking, which was unusual, because the guy was as dumb as a snail sometimes. He let out a small “hm” stroking his chin as if he was debating with world renowned scholars before finally opening his mouth, “Oooooooooh, I get it now!”     You sighed, so dramatic.    He leaned forward, you always forgot how ridiculously tall he was, and how much he loomed over your figure. “Babe, don’t feel bad.” he tipped your chin upward so he could look you in the eye, even though he was quite literally wearing his blindfold, “this has been our 1 month anniversary, and what’s an anniversary without spending money on unnecessary shit?”    “I mean, I guess..”    Hesitantly agreeing, he shoved you upstairs into his room (and yours as well!) to throw on the best formal looking outfit you could find last minute. Digging through the drawers, you found a skin-tight black sundress that you had paired with a  layered delicate necklace Gojo had gifted you on your second week of dating. Hastily throwing on gold rings and a gold anklet just for the fun of it, you fluffed up your hair. You looked at your black high heels.    Hey, if you were gonna be so lavish looking, why not go all out?    You regretted that train of thought later on, and wondered why you didn’t just pull up in a simple white t-shirt.     Regardless, it was worth it at the end. Gojo looked stunning that night. Swapping out the regular blindfold for a pair of black sunglasses, it accentuated his chiseled features even more. His hair wasn’t what it was usually, it wasn’t spiked up at all. Instead, he wore it down. It looked much softer, and it framed his face perfectly. He wore a buttoned down dress shirt, and you felt your heart swell when other woman watched him walk by, their faces faltering when they realized his arm around your waist.     He even went to the extent of pulling the chairs out for you, and opening the car door, as if you were truly a princess. Admittedly, you found yourself enjoying the fine dining, even with the ridiculously small portions. The atmosphere, and the pampering from the waiters had grown on you.    While thinking about the events of your anniversary, the door creaked opened, Gojo’s head peaked just above the foggy glass doors of the shower.     You slightly slid the door open just a crack, you knew that most couples would immediately open the door and have their arms out, waiting for their significant other to immediately pleasure them in the shower, but you hadn’t done anything like that with Gojo yet.     Instantly met with his incredibly toned body, glowing in the hazy amber light from the window, you gulped. A towel draped over his veiny arms, and an incredibly large t-shirt with panties in the other.     You quickly realized the t-shirt as the one Gojo often wore, you had never worn one of his t-shirts before.    The endless missions had obviously done him well, he looked like he was sculpted from marble, a gift from heaven. Arms strong enough to hold the world, you wondered what it would be like to have him carry you around.     Your face flushed a bright red, you didn’t even know what it was like to be carried by him, the furthest you both went was making out, and even you had found yourself being too bad at it to do it consistently.     Lost in thought, you didn’t even realize what Gojo was saying. “Sugarplum? I got your clothes.” he murmured softly, setting the towel and clothes down.     Your breath hitched, watching his head turn to face the shower. Instantaneously looking down at your face peeking through.    You were never gonna hear the end of this one.    A small smile spread across his face, before disappearing into a large cocky smirk, now that he had realized what you were looking at. “It’s okay, I understand, pumpkin. Not many have the courage to tell me face to face that I’m the best. In terms of strength, and looks, and everything.”     You stuck out your tongue, blowing a raspberry.     “Fuck off, idiot, I’m trying to shower!”     “Ouch! I didn’t say that when you were ogling at my body, didn’t I? That really hurt my feelings, weren’t you ever taught the golden rule?”     His hand wove through his hair, and you couldn’t help realize how soft it looked without all the gel holding the iconic spikes together.    “Treat others how you want to be treated.” he winked.    Your mouth sealed shut, accepting your defeat, you slid the glass door shut loudly.     You heard loud booming laughter go down the hallway, gradually getting quieter and quieter before exhaling a sigh of relief as you continued to shower.     You couldn’t help but think about your boyfriend’s body once more, it seemed like a dream. Was he really yours? He had the body of a super model and he settled with you and not some ridiculously pretty girl?     Anyone would take advantage of such a handsome boyfriend, showing him off for the world to see.    You felt an unfamiliar throb between your legs, you looked down, head tilted to the side while also simultaneously furiously washing your hair.    You hadn’t felt this throbbing too much, it was almost like a yearning, and you were almost sure you knew what it was, but you didn’t quite want to admit it yet.    Shaking your head furiously, you wanted to finish your shower before anything else. Ignoring the obvious. ‧₊˚✩彡.    Rubbing your hair with your towel, you had thrown on the t-shirt and panties, cursing Gojo silently for not giving you a pair of shorts. Rummaging through the drawers in your room, Gojo suddenly appeared in the hallway.    “What are you looking for, love?” he leaned on the doorway, cocking his head to his side with a mischievous grin.    “Why don’t you ask yourself, considering that you were the one who gave me my clothes.” you scoffed, pushing the drawer you were searching for back and moving on to the next. You had forgotten which drawer had your pants, vivid images of Gojo’s body echoing through your mind.    “Your pants are on the left of the drawer.” he strode over to the king-sized bed, the mattress sinking down as he sat. “What are you thinking about?”    You scoffed again, looking at him with a side eye. “I’m not thinking of anything? What are you talking about?” 

   “Whenever you think, you forget literally everything around you.”

   Cursing the Gojo clan for ever birthing such a smart yet stupid child, you twirled around with a pair of shorts now in hand. “I do not!”

   “Yeah? Okay lil girl. Oh no, you’re not wearing those.” 

   You felt a throb yet again when you heard him call you lil girl. He snatched the pair of shorts up, dangling it just above your head. “Can’t I ever have my girlfriend wear something remotely sexy? I love your body. I want to see it all in its glory.” He placed it back into the drawer neatly.

   You froze. He was being incredibly straightforward, which wasn’t unlike Gojo, but you didn’t think he would make such large advancements. His arms snaked around your waist without you even realizing, breathing heavily as he placed your ass on his lap. 

   Readjusting to the new position, you looked up, fear and excitement brewing inside of you, was this going to be your first time having sex? You leaned in for a kiss.

   Just as he was about to give you a taste of his lips once again, a loud ringtone sounded. 

   “Fuck.” he cursed to himself, digging into his pockets and whipping out his phone, he gestured for you to be quiet. You whined a little, you had now realized what you were throbbing for.

   “Hello?” Gojo cocked his head to his side, placing the phone right next to his ear as it dangerously rested on his shoulder. A disgruntled look in his face, one hand squishing your ass. 

   “Mmmmmm, yeah, okay.” he placed the phone down on the covers, looking down to you, eye to eye.

   “That was a call from Ijichi, there’s some crazy shit going on somewhere, I have to take an emergency business trip.” he kissed your forehead gently, “I love you okay?” 

   Disappointed with the outcome, you nodded. He gave you a gentle few pats on your back before standing up, gently rolling you over on the bed, and rummaging through the drawers for his work uniform.  

   “As he casually undressed in front of you, you obviously stared, savoring the last few minutes of his body before he would disappear for the next few days, or maybe even weeks, or a month. 

   He looked back on you, just as he was entering the hallway. 

   “You forgot to say I love you.” 

   Looking up, you cursed to yourself, he didn’t have the usual playful cocky grin, now replaced with a worried one. 

   “I love you too.”

‧₊˚✩彡.

   It had now been a week since your 1 month anniversary, you had been blue balled so badly, it almost hurt. You were laying down on your bed, looking at the curtains flutter as a casual wind blew into the room. The sun was setting, and a beautiful dark blue canvas dotted with stars was sure to appear. 

   You had tried holding off, ignoring your walls desperately wrapping around something that wasn’t there. Constantly looking down, seeing that your panties were obviously soaked. The dreams weren’t helping either, Satoru had been appearing in your dreams and doing things that even he would be weirded out by, and he had seen some shit.

   Your arm snaked down to your panties, hand underneath the fabric. You breathed a sigh of relief as your unexperienced fingers circled your entrance, enjoying the slight tease. You heard the slight suckle of your walls around your fingers, enjoying the full feeling. 

   Yet you knew that this wasn’t the extent of things, you knew that there were much bigger, capable of reaching places you wouldn’t even dream of reaching. But you enjoyed the small amounts of pleasure anyways.

   You pulled your panties down, throwing it into the laundry basket and cursing yourself for making it so wet. Slowly thrusting in and out with the finger, you sighed a breath of relief. 

   “Fuck.” you gasped, as a white fluid pooled out of you onto the sheets. You cursed harder to yourself, realizing now that you had to wash them. 

   “Shit.” you couldn’t quite stop there though, you had even more aching between your legs, and you had to satisfy your cravings, you didn’t even know when Gojo would come home. 

   You gasped more, a second round of white fluids flowed out of you. The yearnings now gone, you yanked a tissue out of the tissue box, wiping your finger on it, too lazy to get up, you would worry about the cum later. Drifting off into a heavy sleep, dreaming once again about the ungodly things you wanted Gojo to do to you.

‧₊˚✩彡.

   “Gojo, s-stop.” you looked up at him as you sat on his lap, his fingers coated with your slick. His other hand played with the hem of your skirt. Not responding, he continued to quietly fingering you. 

   You quickly put a hand over your mouth, letting out a muffled moan, he snickered a little, before pulling out his fingers. 

   You whined a bit, earning a stare from a few people. Looking up at him with puppy eyes, you felt yourself wrapping around air.

   He sadistically smiled. You wondered how his eyes would look right now, unable to look at him because of his blindfold. 

   “Beg for it, slut.” he silently whispered, teasing your entrance. You let out a little whimper again, how were you to be quiet when he was doing all this to you?

   You opened your mouth slightly, about to beg, before being shut down completely as he shoved 3 fingers into you. 

   You let out a loud squeak, the whole restaurant now staring at you, eyeing you even across the room with displeased faces. You looked down, embarrassed. 

   He was now laughing at you, you looked up to him about to silently chew him out. Before opening your mouth, you were transported into a bright room. 

‧₊˚✩彡.

   Your eyes blinked, readjusting to the brightness. You realized that your legs were slightly colder then your upper half, realizing that you were completely naked down there. You blinked furiously, looking around, seeing someone’s incredibly muscular chest, with unmistakable white hair. 

   Rubbing your eyes, making sure that you weren’t seeing things, you mumbled, “Gojo?” 

   You felt something squirm around inside of you, letting out a loud moan as it pulled out. 

   “Hm?” he murmured sleepily, you looked down.

   Putting two and two together, his incredibly long fingers were glistening with a wetness. He shuffled a bit before finally sucking and licking his fingers, looking at you directly in the eye while doing so. 

   “What’s wrong, slut?” he smiled deviously again, resting his chin on your shoulder before thrusting 2 fingers back inside of you again. Curling them inside of you, indulging in the toe curling scream you made. 

   “Gojo! You’re...” he pulled his fingers out before you could finish, adding another finger, he was now up to 3.

   “FUCK, SATORU!”    With a lustrous glint in his eyes, he shoved his thumb and index finger into your mouth.     “That’s daddy to you, and look at your body. It’s practically begging for my cock by now. Oh princess, did I play with you for too long?” he slipped his fingers out of your needy pussy, smiling into your hair.     “Want daddy to fuck you?”    Your mouth suddenly dry, you looked at his neck. Not knowing how to respond, you nodded vigorously, sucking on his fingers.    He tipped your chin to look upwards at his face, staring directly into his aquamarine eyes.     “Use your words, whore. Or you’re not getting shit.” he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.     You coughed and spluttered into your arm, tears forming at the corner of your eyes.     His eyes went softer, pulling you into his chest. “Oh sweetheart, did I go too rough on you?”     You shook your head, before shakily replying, “I-I was just surprised y-you came e-early from the mission a-and...” you took a deep breath in, “I was... unp-prepared.    Before he could reply, you blurted out,    “P-please, daddy, use my tight l-little holes. I’m all yours to u-use.”     He smiled, “What a cute slut. You want me to spoil you, don’t you?”     You nodded, now rubbing your thighs together. Your slick coated your inner thigh and your breathing was getting hot.     “How come when I offered to, you didn’t want to obey me?”     “Y-you can’t compare the two-”    He spat into your open mouth. Smiling a bit when he realized that you had swallowed it, looking at him with even wider puppy eyes.    “No talking back, repeat after me, lil girl. When daddy wants to spoil me, I will let him spoil me.”     “W-when daddy wants to s-spoil me, I...” you took a shaky breath in, “I’ll let him spoil m-me.”     “That’s a good girl. Now turn to look at the wall.” he calmly replied, you obeyed, looking at the wall, anticipating for whatever happened next.     You felt something big touch your entrance. Something unnecessarily big, you whimpered. Realizing it was Gojo’s dick.     He chuckled a bit, smiling into your neck and then giving it a light suck. “It’s okay princess, this is your first isn’t it? I’ll make you into my cumslut afterwards. I’ll go nice and easy.”   Heaving a bit, he thrusted a little inside of you. You held your breath.     Strangely, it didn’t hurt at all. Even with the contrast between his incredibly thick and large cock, to your inexperienced, tight walls.     “Missy, you’re so wet.” huskily muttering into your ear, “almost like you’re milking my cock. So tight.”    He grunted, repositioning myself and letting out a small, “Fuck.” as he did so. You whined as he gradually put more and more of him inside of you.     You tightened around his cock, drooling as you did so. You didn’t realize your mouth was open.     “Babe, I can barely fucking pull out.” Gojo said, while he played with your hair, stroking your cheek.     “W-why not?”     “Nothing other then the fact that, a) you’re too tight around me, and b) you’re clenching incredibly hard for no real reason.” he once again, shoved his thumb and index finger for you to suck on, the other playing with your breast, his thumb rolling over your nipple.     “Just relax, baby. Let daddy do all the work, okay?”     You weakly nodded, as he finished shoving the last of his length inside of you. Whimpering, and yanking your pillow out from its normal position to hug it.     You felt him pull out, and he slammed back inside of you once again.     You swore to God that you saw the light, a wave of pleasure and your body going numb as he did so. Letting out a shrill squeak, you hugged your pillow as hard as you can, your juices flowing down into the bed now, leaving an evident trail of where it once came from.    Gojo grunted, snuggling deeper into your body. There was barely any space between the two of you, but you still didn’t feel close enough.     The room was filled with the sound of sticky skin against stinky skin, panting, and moans. You felt every. single. bit. of him.     Now, he had begun to quicken his pace, slamming into your body more often, sending waves of pleasure inside of you. His hair stuck to his neck, sweat pouring down his body, whispering sweet nothings into your ear.     “Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck, I want to cum inside of you so badly, love.” he panted out of breath.     You whimpered, still unable to speak due to his fingers you were harshly sucking all this time. He laughed in response, before finally pulling out.     In a blink of an eye, he shot ropes of cum on your stomach, panting. You had finally gotten a good view of his cock, big was an understatement. Veins decorated the side of it, and the tip was a rosy pink.     “Lick some cum off of your pretty stomach, princess. I wanna see how pretty you look while doing so.”    Both of you breathing heavily, sweat dampening the sheets, his eyes bore into you. You gulped, even though you had done something so intimate with him, dominant Gojo was nothing to mess with.     You scooped some of his cum up with your finger and sucked on it, looking at him the whole time.     He grunted with approval, giving you a nice headrub.     “Well would you look at that.” he glanced at the wall, “it’s already morning. Wanna take a shower together, lil girl?”    On any other day, you’d make up an excuse, but you figured that you’d get fucked even harder if you told him you didn’t want to.     “Okay, daddy.”     “Good girl.”          

[chironshorseass]

"are you asking me out?" "no, i mean yes, maybe, as… friends?" for the prompts <3

i read over this like once and i have an essay due rn and djskdjwksn here is some ruegard.

summer moves like a fish through water, and at some point silena realizes that the season is too fast for her to catch up. so when drew asked her who she’d be going with to the fireworks on the fourth of july, all sparkling eyes and suggestive smiles, she was left tongue-tied.

july. how quickly time passes.

and no, silena had said, a bit too cold and sharp, i still don’t know who.

her siblings don’t ask her after that, and it’s just as well, or else her target would’ve been one of them as she nocks her arrow. it lodges itself with a satisfying thwap into the dead center. bullseye. archery has always been her strong point at camp.

she lowers her bow, gazes toward the sound of commotion, and frowns.

everyone gawks at percy and annabeth and connor, a few rows to her left. the son of hermes is howling with his face planted on the ground, an arrow attached to his butt, and he shakes as annabeth tries and fails to take it off him. percy stands as if unsure what to do, holding his bow limp by his side.

“connor, seriously, i need to take this off—”

“FUCK YOU, PERCY!”

“man, i already said i’m sorry—”

“seaweed brain,” silena hears annabeth say. silena’s always been good with emotions; annabeth is more than amused by the situation, she knows.

she also knows that connor stoll will be alright, but she approaches them anyway. everyone else had been too afraid to do so, apparently. just not everyone. her and clarisse arrive at the same time.

“oh, hey, guys,” annabeth says, smiling as connor curses some more. “will is coming soon, but chiron’s not here, so thank the gods—”

“right, let me dislodge that arrow,” clarisse says, gruffly.

“FUCK! no, not clarisse, literally anyone but her—”

she rolls her eyes and crouches anyway. “you are such a pussy—”

“no, okay, you know what? i don’t think anyone wants your hands anywhere near someone’s penetrated ass—holy fuck that sounded wrong—YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN! ANNABETH—HELP!”

“connor, it’ll only hurt a little bit, i promise—”

“but you do it! not her!”

“you won’t even let me!” she shrieks.

silena glances at percy, who is yet to move—maybe from the guilt, maybe from the embarrassment. probably both. help, he implores with his eyes.

“okay,” clarisse says. her brows are pulled together. her eyes are hard. silena forgets for a second that they’re on uneven ground and that they haven’t talked in days. clarisse is on a mission, and silena cherishes each time she gets to see that look on her face. “i’m ready, even if you aren’t, stoll.”

“no, no, NO!”

she cracks her knuckles. silena meets percy’s eyes again. shit. “okay, let’s do this—”

“wait!” her voice is her best quality. she doesn’t need anyone to tell her that; reactions will do. they all freeze at the sound, looking up at her. even connor, though he winces. “let me do it.”

finally, finally her eyes find clarisse properly. she parts her mouth. something like anger flashes through her eyes. then sadness. maybe she’s finally regretting giving silena the cold shoulder. now is not the time.

she clears her throat and stands. gives silena a nod. “all yours.”

“thanks, rue,” silena says, softly. she pats clarisse’s shoulder before she steps aside for her.

“okay, connor. you ready?”

his breath hitches. “i wanna say no, but this is a better solution than her.”

“hey, watch it,” clarisse warns, but her words are rare, because there’s barely embers mixed in them. she is only watching her. silena can feel the warmth of her gaze on her neck. she almost smiles; the rest…they barely know the half of who the daughter of ares is.

“here goes nothing,” she mutters, and graps onto the arrow’s feathers. “one. two. three.”

.

“you did great back there.”

“you think so?”

clarisse nods. “you’re good at that.”

silena smiles. they both watch from the sidelines as percy and annabeth carry the burden of connor’s arms around their shoulders. he keeps limping with them, until they stop. silena notices when will comes rushing over.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry! came with supplies!”

connor proceeds to cuss him out, annabeth and percy attempting to shush him. silena would laugh at the absurdity of connor—connor looking so red and wild—if she didn’t feel so numb, next to the girl that carries silence like a torch.

“feel kinda bad for him, honestly,” clarisse says. maybe she decides not to be as silent today.

“who? connor or will?”

“will. connor has bad luck and is a pussy—will, though…he has bad luck and is ten.”

and the only member in his cabin who is free as of now. the rest are in the infirmary twenty four seven, helping out wounded campers from yesterday’s lava wall incident.

“i get what you mean,” silena murmurs. silence falls back, unfortunately. it’s cold and uncomfortable. she knows the drill by now. her face turns to clarisse; her hair is in her eyes. she won’t look at her again. this is how it has been, ever since percy and annabeth had come back from the sea of monsters, and at the campfire celebration, they’d somehow kissed. she could’ve sworn that the flames had brightened if just a tad. back then she left her skythe bracelet under her clothes and had decided to feel alive instead.

now she feels nothing at all, save for the icy charm that presses to her skin under her friendship bracelets. most of them she’d made with clarisse, when things didn’t feel like breaking at the slightest brush of air. friendship bracelets and smiles, except for the one. the one as cold as her best friend’s gaze. the one that she is to use every night, informing the other side of every whisper, every plan. the one that is a reminder.

“right,” she says. “i should, um. i should go.”

“silena, wait.”

she turns. clarisse is there, open like venus’ shell.

“you got something to say to me, la rue?”

“the fireworks.”

“what about them?”

clarisse clears her throat. “i’m sorry, i’m just.” she shakes her head, looks away.

silena reaches for her, then. it’s not fair how love can be incomprehensible, even to her. she tries anyway. “look, you don’t have to—”

“no, i’m sorry.” she takes a deep breath. “i was shitty. and i…didn’t know how to feel. about that.”

about that. this is okay. this, silena can work with this.

she takes her callused hands in her soft ones, and stares right into her eyes. she can only make her understand in this way. “rue, it’s totally fine if you’re not ready—i get it—”

“no, you don’t.” she lets out a long breath; her cheeks are stained red, but her gaze is earnest and true. “i am ready.”

“oh?”

she gives her the barest trace of a smile. silena’s heart might soar. “you wanna go?” she asks gently, her fingers tangling with silena’s.

gentle may not be a word used often for clarisse, but silena finds that she fits with it well, though not the other way around.

“go where?”

the moment is over, and she glares, if only half-heartedly. “‘lena, don’t make me say it.”

“oh, but you need to say it for it to be valid.”

“i hate you.”

she laughs. typical of a daughter of war, to fool everyone with words like hate.

“okay, okay. sure. but…” silena bites her lip, squeezes their hands together. “say it.”

clarisse breathes out through her nose. if silena didn’t know better, she’d say she is about to combust. she knows better. and she is about to smile instead.

“fine,” she says. “but only…for you.”

“i’m waiting.”

“will you go? to the fireworks with me?”

“are you asking me out?” silena teases.

she teases, but clarisse stumbles on her words anyway. “no, i mean, yes, maybe…as friends?”

as friends, she says, and silena has the last laugh once clarisse grabs her cheeks and quiets her with a kiss. it lasts for a moment, chaste and sweet as the summer, but when they pull away they’re both grinning. clarisse’s heartbeat thunders against silena’s fingers that are pressed to her neck. her lips have a bit less lip gloss on them, and it hurts to smile.

“maybe not at friends,” she whispers; silena agrees with her, for once.

“maybe not.”

[thefanficmonster]

Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great. 

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point. 

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time. 

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from. 

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about. 

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.” 

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze

[tacticaldiary]

Not Jealous

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort; Fluff

He’s not jealous. He’s not. Impossible...so what was this horrible feeling clawing at his chest, urging him to do something about Denki getting a little too friendly? Why does he feel the need to punch something. Jealousy is an ugly thing as Bakugou finds out. 

Masterlist

——————————————————————————

He hated this. He didn't care, but at the same time he hated it. 

The way Y/N threw her head back to laugh or, god forbid, giggle at something Dunce Face over there had said made his blood boil for some reason. The way he had his arm thrown around her made him want to punch something, and the obvious, lazy flirting made him want to yell at someone. 

The whole class was lounging in the living room, Bakugou sitting on one of the couches next to Y/N and Denki. He was in full hearing range of the terrible jokes and laughs. Every now and then he chances a glance to them.

It doesn’t help his rising temper

Why was Dunce Face the one who got to be near Y/N? Why the hell was he allowed to touch her? Obviously it’s not like he cared or anything. He didn’t care that he wanted to be the one sitting next to Y/N, no that was just stupid. 

It’s not like his heart fucking fluttered everytime she shot him a smile, or offered to spar with him. Nope. Not like he admired how she was one of the only people who didn’t take his bullshit, or how headstrong and confident and powerful she was, how she practically radiated every time she walked in the room, or even how he went out of his way to be around her. 

It wasn’t his fault she needed obvious tutoring to get her 95% up to a 100%. Not his fault their quirks were compatible and they were usually assigned to train together. She obviously needed to be walked to recovery girl every time she got hurt, who knows what stupid shit she’d pull if no one accompanied her, (granted he was always the one who insisted on taking her, fuck off Deku.).

Any extra time they spent together was purely coincidental, and...fuck he was in love-

The day Bakugou had realised it was when he was walking her to her dorm. The grateful smile she’d given him accompanied with a “Thank you, Katsuki.” had quite literally knocked the breath out of him. He loved the way his name sounded on her lips. 

“What the hell, Denki!?” Y/N’s laugh rings through the room. That most definitely was not his name. He turns to them, his scowl deepening as he sees Y/N grab his arm to keep herself upright. Denki laughs with her, looking highly amused. Bakugou's eyes linger on them and something claws at his chest, a horrible emotion that makes him want to snatch you away, as far away from Dunce Face as possible. 

The loud bang the echoes through the room startles everyone into silence. Bakugou rises to his feet and swears, grabbing onto his left hand, which he had accidentally ignited. One of the pillows behind him was scorched black, the smell of burnt cotton filling the room. He rarely every loses control of his quirk like that, regardless of how small the explosion was. 

“Kacchan-?”

“Bakugo, you-”

“Holy shit! You okay?” Y/N is the first to react, cutting Izuku and Kirishima off and standing, walking over to Bakugou.She grabs his hand and brings it up to examine it for any damage. If it were anyone else they would have had their face blown off by now “Why’d you-”

“Shut up.” he says lowly, glaring at her, before harshly ripping his hand away and turning on heel, stalking up into the hallway, to his room presumably. He was still fuming, now the added anger of having lost control like that adding to the frustration. 

Shutting the door, he looks down at his hands and sighs. In the confinements of his own personal space, he allows himself to think properly. Fuck, he hated this, he hated feeling like this.

He ignores the knock on the door, plopping down on his desk chair. He knew full well who it was, and he really didn’t want to deal with this right now. The knocking continues and is this time accompanied by a familiar voice. 

“Don’t be an asshole, I know you’re in there! Open the door.”

Ignoring seems to work, he thinks...he thinks wrong. Before he can react, he hears the doorknob turn and the sound of the door creaking open tells him that he foolishly forgot to lock the door. He spins the chair to glare at Y/N

“The fuck do you want?”

“I want to know why you’ve been acting more pissy than usual today.” She states closing the door behind her with a click. 

“Keep wondering then.”

“It would be much easier if you just told me.” She crosses her arms.

Bakugou shrugs with a scowl. “Shouldn’t you be out there? Wouldn’t wanna waste your precious quality time with Dunce Face now would you?” His scowl becomes harsher at the thought. Y/N pauses, silence filling the space between them for a few seconds. 

“You’re...oh my god, Katsuki, are you...jealous or something?” She asks, snickering a little. 

“What the hell? I’m not jealous.” He gets to his feet and yells, fists clenched. He wasn't jealous.

“You are! You’re jealous! Katsuki Bakugou is jealous!” Y/N laughs, ignoring the murderous look on the others face. Before she knows it, she’s yanked forward by her collar, close to a very much seething Bakugou. 

“I’m not jealous, you little shit.” He growls lowly, his fist bunching the front of Y/N’s shirt. 

“Your actions tell me otherwise.” Her eyes flicker down to his hold, before going back up to meet his fiery ones. She suddenly realizes how close they are, she can practically feel his breath fanning over her face. She goes quiet at the thought, a flush creeping up her face. Bakugou notices the lack of retort, and a slow smirk spreads across his face as he sees how red the other is.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue? Where’s the witty retorts now, shithead?” he yanks her closer, almost tauntingly. 

“I left them with Kaminari, I guess.” Y/N says quietly after recovering from the initial shock. SHe grins as she’s released and shoved away almost immediately.

“So it’s Kaminari now?” he cocks his head to the side.

“That bothers you?”

“Obviously not. Do what you want, idiot.” He scoffs, looking away with a scowl. Y/N contemplates her options. She could push the point and risk Bakugou completely pushing her away...or she could leave and address the problem later. 

Later. A word she’s all too familiar with. She’s been putting off doing something as trivial as confessing till ‘later’ for the past few months. She can’t exactly pinpoint how or why she fell for this hotheaded, stubborn, asshole of an unfairly attractive idiot, but she knows that she’ll have to tell him sometime, even if he rejects her and doesn’t feel the same. After a few seconds of thought she makes up her mind and shrugs.

“All right. Guess I’ll go spend some more time with Kaminari then. Since you don’t mind.” She turns and pulls the door open. Before it can open more than a few inches, however, it’s forcibly slammed shut by a hand next to her head. She turns around in surprise and is met with Bakugou glaring down at her. 

“...What?” She prompts when he doesn’t speak. 

He continues glaring down at her in silence, seemingly fighting a mental battle over something. It seems like the debate is settled however, when he sighs in annoyance and leans down, crashing their mouths together harshly.  

It only lasts a few seconds, a few fiery, explosive, wonderful seconds, before Y/N is left shell-shocked, as Bakugou pulls away, still scowling. He raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t move away. 

“Uh...I- that was-...” Y/N stutters, before gathering herself and meeting his gaze with a small smile. “I should take that as a sign that you like me back?” She relishes the way he’s caught off guard since it doesn’t happen often. His eyes widen slightly in surprise and the hand on the door next to her head slips down just a fraction. 

“Figured it out already, dumbass?” he grumbles, still keeping her fixed to her place with his eyes.

“Sorry...guess I short-circuited for a second.” She can’t help it. When Bakugou scowls and pulls away harshly, she reaches out and grabs his waist, attempting to keep him in place. “Kidding! I’m kidding, Katsuki!” She chuckles and hearing her laugh is the only thing that stops Bakugou from not prying her hands off him. 

“There’s nothing going on between me and Denki, if you were curious. I’ve liked you for a while now and he knows that.” The tips of her ears turn red at the confession. Bakugou stares at her for a second, not seeing any hints of a lie. He relaxes a little and scoffs. 

“Never said I was curious.” he rolls his eyes and Y/N shakes her head with a breathy laugh. 

“Sure, Katsuki. Sure.”

When they return to the common area together, they’re sent questioning glances, but everyone knows better than to ask. Y/N sits next to Bakugou and Bakugou’s the one who has his arm around her and Bakugou’s the guy who gets to hear her laugh and he’s the one who gets to spend time with her.

He obviously wasn’t jealous before.

——————————————————————————

Author’s Note: My first Bnha fic! Honestly, I’m so excited to start writing for this fandom, so send your requests in! They really get my creativity flowing!

Requests Are Open And Welcome

[lonely-lost-soul]

Since I've Been Gone

Request: what if...Platonic fluff things with reader and bench trio?... Like they're all in a flower field chilling then Tommy is like, "You guys wanna make flower crowns?" And reader, ranboo, and tubbo just look at him like 👁👁 what, Turns out Tommy picked up flower crown making from his big brothers techno and Wilbur so now he does it when he's either bored or stressed. Anyways hope this inspires you <3 -🐱 Anon

(Platonic!Bench Trio x Gn!Reader)

The server had been through a lot, Tommy was just recently revived and was coming off of finding out his two best friends were married. The young boy had a white streak in his blonde hair and was still trying to adjust to the life he missed. Especially when it came to his longtime friend and roommate (y/n). Tommy had recently found out they were off living with Karl and Sapnap in the Kinoko Kingdom...the bitch. After Tommy had disappeared after he...died Karl had found them hiding out in his old library. You had scared the time-traveler half to death when he found you camping out in a corner of the room. However, after seeing as you had nothing, no weapons or armor he concluded you weren’t much of a threat, especially after you told him your sob story. You told him you lived with Tommy and you couldn’t go back there now that he was dead, Ranboo and Tubbo were off doing married things and you had felt so alone. Karl decided at that moment he would take you in, no matter what the cost. Sapnap had a bit more trouble adjusting to your presence, but as soon as he saw you had some fire within your belly he began to warm up to you. It only took a few days for Karl to practically adopt you and since he was engaged to Sapnap the fire demon was stuck with you for a child.

Not that he minded, you weren’t a loud kid, very pleasant to be around hell even his dad took a liking to you. Sapnap was baffled when Karl told him you had previously lived with Tommy, the most obnoxious child on the server. The two of you couldn’t be more different, and when Tommy was revived, he and Karl weren’t enthused. Karl was worried he’d lose you to the trouble maker and it was well known Tommy and Sapnap didn’t have the greatest history. Their worries were quelled the moment you introduced them as your dads to Tommy, Karl burst into tears and Sapnap put you in a headlock much to your protest. Tommy stood by awkwardly, he had missed a lot, he hated the fact that he felt like his friends were happier without him in their lives.

He was brought back to the present by the idle chatter of Tubbo and Ranboo by his side Tubbo was on Ranboo’s back declaring walking was way too much work for him. You snickered nudging Ranboo in the ribs, he let out a yelp and glared down at you halfheartedly. Tommy watched you turn towards him a smile on his features,

“What do you think Tommy?” He blinked a few times at you, not wanting to admit he wasn’t listening to the conversation next to him.

“I don’t fucking know,” He scoffed “This conversation is bullshit anyway who cares.” You had a smirk on your lips that he was all too familiar with, he narrowed his eyes at you.

“You weren’t listening were you?”

“Of course I was listening bitch!”

“Oh really? What did she ask then big man?” Tubbo mused resting his chin on his husband’s shoulder. Hair covering his vibrant, green eyes, horns peeking from beneath his shaggy hair. Tommy glared at his long time friend flipping him off eloquently,

“Probably something stupid and useless.”

“She asked if you knew where we were going,” Ranboo piped up with a casual hum, bouncing in his step. “Cause we’ve been walking for a while, I know Tubbo’s tired.”

“Yeah Tommy, I’m tired.”

“You’re not even walking!” You argued as Tubbo stuck his tongue out at you, lifting his hair from his eyes to wink at you. His one eye glowing with a yellow nuclear symbol, “Put that symbol away! You’re not cool.”

“Says the person who doesn’t own nukes,” He mused letting his hair fall back into place while grabbing onto Ranboo’s horns. “Or who doesn’t have any cool powers,”

“Ow! Low blow! Just cause Tommy and I are the only two humans in the group doesn’t mean you can pick on us! Right, Tommy!”

“Yeah! Exactly! Fuck you guys!” Tommy agreed linking your arms together, “Plus, I know exactly where we’re going. We’re almost there, Wilbur used to take me here all the time when I was little.” Tommy said almost in an afterthought, the kids around him grew quiet, each one knew Wilbur was a touchy subject for Tommy especially after his time in the afterlife. Yet, people seemed to forget that Wilbur wasn’t always crazy, wasn’t always a manipulator, once he was an older brother. Once he cared for Tommy and wanted to protect him from some of Phil’s neglect, protect him from Technoblade’s voices. Tommy wanted to remember that Wilbur, not the one stuck in purgatory who blew up the country they all fought so hard to retain. He felt your hand squeeze his arm,

“I’m excited to see where Wilbur decided to take you, hopefully, it’s not a fish pond.”

“Oh gross.” Ranboo groaned pinching the bridge of his nose as Tubbo laughed loudly from above him. Tommy made a disgusted face,

“Stop talking about all the fish who fucked my brother!”

“I didn’t you did.” You hummed skipping ahead of the group feet crunching on the leaves on the ground.

“YOU BASTARD!” Tommy shrieked running after you,

“Onward steed!” Tubbo pointed at his two friends who ran off, Ranboo grumbled but trotted after the duo.

It only took a few more arguments and a few more minutes of walking before the quartet came to the destination Tommy was eager to show them. You stopped on your heels jaw-dropping in awe,

“Holy shit…” You murmured, in front of all of you was a gorgeous field of flowers a giant dark oak tree sat in the middle. It was giant spanning up far into the sky but it created a nice shade to keep all of you cooled off. Tommy had a rare peaceful smile on his lips as he let the sun touch his face, he slid off his boots and ran into the field of flowers.

“Take your shoes off so you don’t crush them or I’ll crush you!” Tommy snickered falling back, letting the flowers tickle his cheeks. He opened his eyes just a crack to see you sliding off your boots and joining him in the field, you didn’t lay beside him instead he watched your form head to the tree. Meanwhile, Tubbo kicked off his boots, Ranboo wasn’t far behind his husband. Tubbo laughed running over and flopping next to Tommy, holding his arm close much to the blonde’s displeasure.

“Ranboo! Help me reach the taller branches!” You called to the tallest member of your friend group. He nodded walking over to you, grabbing your waist gently he lifted you into the air. You grabbed onto the nearest branch and hoisted yourself into the air, Ranboo was always shocked at your upper body strength, but then again you trained on your own for years. Ranboo hovered at the base of the tree nervously, both of his tails flicking side to side.

“Don’t climb too high!” He called watching you slip and cling onto the trunk to steady yourself. “(Y/n) CAREFUL!”

“I’m fine, mom!” You stuck your tongue out at him from above, “I’ve fallen out of taller trees!”

“If you get hurt Sapnap would literally burn me alive! So PLEASE try not to fall!”

“Boo calm down a little!” Tubbo snickered, “if they fall I’ll film it.”

“Tubbo has the right idea,” you agreed as Tommy laughed from beside Tubbo. Ranboo frowned ears twitching in distress, you only continued to climb higher to his dismay. Eventually, you came down falling elegantly into the arms of Ranboo who caught you easily. He was breathing heavily, recovering from the shock of your sudden drop. His long nails dug into your skin as he clutched onto you like a lifeline, “Ranboo let go!” You huffed trying to wiggle out of his tight grip.

“Absolutely not! Are you a lunatic!” His voice broke, “I could’ve missed! You could’ve broken an ankle!”

“But I didn’t,” You poked his nose with a teasing hum. Ranboo groaned louder placing his head in the crook of your neck, you snickered as he finally let you onto the ground. You walked over to Tommy and Tubbo and sat down next to them, you leaned against Tommy’s back who grunted in distaste. “Deal with it gremlin, be my backrest,”

“Fuck you bitch!” He snarled but didn’t move or push them off, you smiled teasingly winking in the direction of Tubbo. He snickered into his palm as Ranboo pulled Tubbo into his lap, and the young goat hybrid got comfortable. The four of you sat in peaceful silence, letting the sun beat down around you all. A nice breeze blew through the area causing the leaves of the nearby trees to shake, a few animals rustled around in the bushes.

“We should make flower crowns,” Tommy spoke up suddenly his nails digging into the dirt. You titled your head in confusion and Raboo looked equally as baffled, the only person who didn’t seem surprised was Tubbo.

“Sure man but you gotta collect the flowers,” Tubbo said tiredly Tommy clicked his tongue stubbornly.

“We’re surrounded by flowers you’re just lazy.”

“Yeah obviously.”

You gave Tubbo a look and sat up on your knees, “What do you need to get started?”

“Can you grab me some of those daisy’s, tulips, and some bluebells?” You nodded standing up and popping your knees before heading off in that direction. Meanwhile, Tommy grabbed some lilacs and began stringing those together, his tongue poked out from his bottom lip as he gave his full concentration to the task in front of him. Ranboo watched curiously ears flicking every time Tommy let out a mumble, you came back and dumped the flowers beside him. He grunted out thanks making the final knot in the crown, “Done!” He declared looking over at Ranboo, he flushed a little under Tommy’s gaze.

“Didn’t mean to stare.” Tommy huffed holding out the crown to the halfling, he pointed at himself and Tommy rolled his eyes.

“Take it. If you don’t want it I’ll just give it to (Y/n)-”

“I want it!” Ranboo reached out to snatch the crown from Tommy, he placed it gently on his head mindful of the horns. Tommy’s eyes widened and he flushed red, he quickly turned back to the pile of flowers. “Teach us how to make them,” Ranboo offered to try to ease the awkward tension. Tommy huffed but nodded, a smile spread across your lips,

“Teach us your ways oh wise one.” You teased picking up the daisy’s spinning the stem between your fingers.

“Yeah! I am wise! Call me master innit!”

“I’d rather choke,”

“Fuck you!”

You snicked as Tommy punched you hard in the shoulder, you doubled over falling into the flowers. Tommy growled pulling you up by the shirt, “Pay attention bitch! I’m only telling you this once!” Sitting back up you nodded and followed his instructions carefully, he ended up taking the daisies and you the tulips. Ranboo grabbed the bluebells reaching over Tubbo to follow Tommy’s instructions as well, by the end Tommy’s was pristine. The one you made was decent but Ranboo’s looked worse for wear considering he was trying to put it together with claws. He put the crown on top of a snoozing Tubbo, he was proud of his work nonetheless, his husband smiled tiredly nuzzling against his chest. You on the other hand placed the tulip crown you made atop of Tommy’s blonde hair, he flushed and rolled his eyes. He brushed his fingers over the daisies and placed them on top of your head, you looked up at the crown and smiled warmly.

“Thank’s Big T,” you hummed falling back into the flowers and Tommy joined you in laying down. Both your fingers interlocked and Ranboo shuffled to the ground as well, although he didn’t reach out to take Tommy’s hand, Tommy reached out to take Tubbo’s. The four of you stayed in that field until your walkie-talkie screeched cutting through the quiet atmosphere, it was the gruff voice of Sapnap’s. One of your fathers

“Earth to (Y/n), come in (y/n). Your dad wants you here for dinner, George is joining us tonight. I grilled!”

“Ugh. Buzzkill,” Tommy sneered kicking the dirt with his barefoot. You shushed him and pressed the button in to speak,

“Yeah papa, I’ll make my way back soon. Give papa a big kiss for me and if you see Quackirty tell him hello!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. Karl come here honey~” You snickered as Tommy gagged, you heard your dad meow before your walkie cut off then and you sat up. You stretched your arms above your head and popped your arms into place, you kissed your teeth hopping to your feet.

“I gotta head back unless I want dad to beat my ass. Thank you for today boys and Tommy thank you for sharing your place with us. I’m glad we were trusted with this special secret.” You winked wiggling your toes in the long grass, “we should do this again yeah?”

“Yeah!” Ranboo agreed as Tubbo gave a sleepy thumbs up, your smile only widened. Tommy nodded giving a thumbs-up as well, he watched you head off to collect your boots and head back home. Head to a family, a family who cares about your wellbeing, or if you’re staying out too late. Hell, even who cared about who you were hanging out with, Tommy couldn’t help but wonder what that was like, he didn’t think he’d be very good at listening to any parental figures. He didn’t have that, he would never have that, he looked at your retreating figure, then back over at Tubbo and Ranboo. They both were half asleep and he couldn’t help but glance at the golden rings on each one of their fingers.

He missed so much since he’s been gone.

But maybe all wasn’t bad, he touched the tulips on his head, thinking for a moment.

Maybe he didn’t need a normal family with a mom and a dad, or two dads or moms, he had a family right here. He brought his hand to the scarf on his neck and squeezed it in his fist, who needed that shit when he had everyone he loved in this field with him today.

For once in his life, Tommy was happy.

[luxekook]

intimidation | myg

⇥ pairing: yoongi x reader

⇥ genre: fluff, a lil touch of smut, college AU

⇥ summary: in which you think Yoongi is intimidating bc of his dark clothing and his quiet ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude… but then someone makes him laugh and you watch as his face lights up in the cutest gummy smile complete with shining eyes and blushing cheeks and BOOM you’re whipped for that boy

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: dirty talk, light smut, cursing

⇥ sequel: intensity

Thursday, September 28th – 11:16am

Min Yoongi intimidated the living hell out of you.

While the boy in question was not all that tall or all that muscular, there was admittedly something in his aura that just screamed ‘big dick energy’... Not that you’d ever get the chance to confirm that hypothesis. You weren’t even sure you wanted to.

Shoulders slumping, you shifted your peripheral gaze off of Yoongi and back onto your professor as she droned on about evolution. Your shared Introduction to Biology class inspired an odd mix of dread and excitement every Tuesday/Thursday morning as a consequence of Min Yoongi’s sheer presence.

Your mind drifted back to the first class of the semester about a month ago...

Arriving in the lecture hall indicated on your class schedule, you took a seat in the middle of the room. You were spoiled for choice given that you had arrived fifteen minutes early for lecture. The first day of classes was always stressful for you, given your tendency to get lost within the many buildings on campus as well as your hatred for lateness.

As the room filled with more and more students, you shuffled through your backpack. “Where the hell is it?” you muttered, searching for your planner where you would jot down important notes.

Finally, you spotted it wedged in between two of your folders. Grasping it in triumph, you tugged it out of your backpack and placed it on your desk. Glancing back up, you found the coldest pair of brown eyes staring back at you.

“Is anyone sitting there?” The question came in a slow drawl, all rough and lazy. Long fingers adorned in rings shifted as the boy pointed towards the empty seat next to you. God, he was offensively good-looking.

You blinked and shook your head, “No, have at it.” His gaze pinned you in place for a few more brief seconds before his chin lifted in acknowledgment and he slumped into place beside you.

You had learned absolutely nothing that first class. Or any subsequent class that Min Yoongi deigned with his presence. The odds were about 50/50 on any given day.

Today, his presence was wreaking havoc on your nervous system. Since the initial encounter on your first day of class, the amount of words exchanged between the two of you could be counted on one hand. Last week he had asked you for your notes from a previous class he had missed, and you almost burned from the inside out with embarrassment as he took in your impeccably organized and color-coded notes with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk.

“Were you planning on framing these?” he had asked while snapping a quick series of photos of your notebook pages. In response, you had scowled, pulling your notebook out of his reach.

You were a nerd. You knew that. But you didn’t like being made fun of for it. Especially by a boy as arrogantly apathetic as Min fucking Yoongi.

Therefore, you were doing your absolute best to ignore him today. The hour and a half of class dragged by so slowly you thought you might have grown a couple gray hairs by the time your professor dismissed everyone.

Rushing to pack up your belongings and multitude of colored pens, a small slip of paper dropped onto your desk. Confused, you immediately glanced up to find the source and found Yoongi sauntering away from you, black backpack hitched over one shoulder carelessly.

Fingers shaking, you opened the hastily folded paper: “(y/n) – Sorry if I made you upset last class. I only meant to extend my compliments to the artist... – MYG.”

Compliments to the—Min Yoongi was so full of shit. But you couldn’t fight the small smile that spread across your face.

“(y/n) ... (y/n) ... (y/n)!”

The sound of your name shook you from your thoughts. Your roommate Nia decided that wasn’t enough and she shoved you in the arm.

“Ow, what the hell, Nia?” you grumbled, rubbing your left bicep dramatically.

Nia scoffed, “You’re staring into your bland salad like it holds the key to the universe. What’s up with you?”

Stabbing said salad with your fork, you waved your well-lettuced utensil in your roommate’s face, “What’s up is that I cannot stand Min Yoongi! He walks around looking like god’s gift to anyone attracted to men. Then, he has the audacity to critique my notes and give me a half-assed apology with further ridicule? The nerve! The gall!”

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Nia cut off your rampage succinctly, “Min Yoongi apologized to you? We are talking about the same Min Yoongi, right? Bleached hair? Piercings? General hatred for life?”

You nodded. Nia’s eyebrows rose to new heights, “We must contact the historians. This is one for the books.”

Rifling through your planner, you pulled out the note Yoongi left you and thrust it in Nia’s direction, “Look!”

Unfolding the small torn paper, you watched as Nia’s eyes darted back and forth... and back and forth... and back and forth.

“Well?”

Nia’s wide eyes lifted to yours, “(y/n) ... Min Yoongi is flirting with you.”

You choked on your lettuce, “What? Where on earth are you getting that? He’s clearly roasting me.”

“Nope,” Nia threw the note back at you, “Clearly flirting. Damn, Min Yoongi is into my best friend? This is wild! Okay, you first need to get on that, and then you need introduce me to Park Jimin.”

“Are you insane?” Your outburst gained annoyed looks from the surrounding students in the dining hall and you lowered your voice, “I am not ‘getting on’ anyone!”

Rolling her eyes, Nia stared pointedly to the right, “So if I'm hearing you correctly, you’re saying that you don’t find him attractive?”

Your eyes followed her line of vision and landed on none other than your topic of conversation. 

God, he looked good. Even surrounded by his group of attractive friends, Yoongi stood out to you. You were just about to glance away when it happened.

Kim Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh burst through the cacophony of conversations, following what must have been one of his famously so-bad-they’re-good jokes.

And then Min Yoongi smiled.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you watched his eyes crinkle, his cheeks turn a pretty pink and, his smile to widen into the cutest, most devastating gummy smile you had ever seen in your entire life.

“Holy fuck.” You exhaled. It was official. You were fucking whipped.

“Yup, that’s what I thought,” Nia’s smug tone pulled your focus away from this new version of Yoongi you were desperate to know, “Still going to deny that you want to jump his bones?”

“...No.”

You were scared shitless by Nia’s maniacal grin in response to your admission.

“Excellent,” she smirked, her palms rubbing together like a plotting villain, “Here’s what we’re going to do...”

Friday, September 29th – 10:34pm

Your hands tugged at the hem of the short leather miniskirt Nia loaned you for the night as your stomach flipped more times than Simone Biles’ floor routine.

Damn, you were nervous.

When Nia talked you into attending Kim Taehyung’s party, you had agreed pretty easily. You both had reasoned that Yoongi might not even be there; and, if he was, you would just see if he would approach you.

It had seemed so simple in the moment, but now as you grasped your beer you realized that nothing regarding Min Yoongi was simple. Since arriving about twenty minutes ago, you and Nia had immediately been recruited for beer pong by Park Jimin and Jeon Jungkook. Unable to crush Nia’s dreams of hooking up with Jimin, you had agreed immediately even though you were both absolutely terrible at the game.

Jimin and Jungkook now only had one cup left to make, while you and Nia had five. You dipped the pong ball into the designated cup of water to clean it, took aim and watched in glee as the ball sailed into the front cup.

“Oh, fuck yes!” You and Nia high-fived, taking in the rare victory. Opening her mouth to respond, Nia’s words died in her throat as she looked over your shoulder.

“What is it?” you began to turn to see what was so alarming to your friend.

“No!” Nia hissed, “Don’t you dare turn around. Min Yoongi is staring at you like you’re a five-course meal and he’s starving.”

Your soul left your body, only to be snapped back into place with the interrupting cheers from Jimin and Jungkook as they sunk their last cup.

“Good game!” Jungkook’s arm wrapped around you in a half-hug. You shoot Nia a look, but she’s completely occupied in conversation with Jimin. Jungkook’s arm fell to encircle your waist when you felt it – the weight of a certain someone’s gaze.

You barely registered Jimin and Nia’s exit from the pong table and onto the makeshift dancefloor in Taehyung’s living room. And when Jungkook suggested getting another drink from the kitchen you almost shouted in agreement. Anything to escape the eyes you knew were glued to you.

He’s just a boy, you tried to remind yourself, you could handle Min Yoongi.

You followed Jungkook into the cramped kitchen, nodding along to whatever story he’s rambling on about. Locating the vast array of alcohol scattered along the kitchen island, you grabbed a solo cup and fixed yourself a rum and coke.

“...and then Jin-hyung said ‘It’s burgundy!’” You tuned back in to Jungkook’s story just in time to laugh in the appropriate place. You felt bad. Jungkook was cute and sweet, but just not your type.

“Jungkook,” a low voice broke through your shared laughter.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in alarm as he turned to face the intruder, “Yoongi-hyung! Wh-what’s up?”

Yoongi’s gaze narrowed; Jungkook gulped, “Bye, (y/n)-noona.”

You watched in horror as Jungkook literally scrambled out of the room to get away from you and Yoongi.

“Why’d you do that?” You looked up at Yoongi.

Damn, he looked good. His blonde locks were tousled like he had been running his hands through it and his cheeks were slightly flushed – probably from drinking.

Yoongi ignored your question, shooting a look at the group of boys occupying the kitchen counter space next to you and they immediately made themselves scarce.

His dark gaze turned back to you, “Why Jungkook?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, “What?”

“Why were you talking to Jungkook, (y/n)?” Yoongi moved closer to you, backing you into the counter behind you, “That boy couldn’t handle you.”

Your eyebrows quirked up, “And why’s that?”

“Because, baby, all that hair, all that ass, and all that attitude needs a man to give you what you want and what you need.”

You struggled to formulate an answer as you watched as he took a long sip of his beer, his eyes continuing to burn into yours.

“Are you drunk, Min Yoongi?”

“Lil’ bit,” he muttered and shot you a devastating half-smile, “But still sober enough to appreciate how goddamn good you look right now.”

Your mouth opened and closed several times before you choked out, “I thought you hated me?”

His hand darted through his hair as his jaw flexed once… twice, “Not even close.”

“But you don’t talk to me... you made fun of my notes!”

“I don’t talk to you because I think you’re so fucking cute with your colored pens and your oversized sweatshirts and your overused planner. I don’t talk to you because I want to ruin you and worship you all at once.”

All air had escaped your lungs at this point. You let out a jagged breath as Yoongi suddenly slid his hands around your waist.

He scooped you off the floor and placed you on the edge of the counter. Your arms circled his shoulders instinctually and his grip tightened on your hips. When he glanced down at you, he let out a rough breath, sounding like you were torturing him.

Turning to the side, you tried to hide from his intensity behind the curtain of your hair, but he just pushed it back behind your ear.

“Yoongi, please…” Your desperate words left your mouth subconsciously, the feeling of his lips so close to yours made your pulse race and your head spin.

“What do you want, baby?” he asked, his voice hoarse and his pupils dilated, “I’ll give you anything. Just ask.”

“Kiss me?” You barely finished asking your question before Yoongi’s lips slammed onto your own.

He kissed you like he wanted to own you – and to have you own him. Gravity tried to drag you down off the counter and your mouths separated in a gasp. Yoongi hoisted you up higher with a firm hand on the back of your thigh.

Hooking your leg around his slim waist, you tugged him into you, feeling every inch of his body respond to your touch. He breathed heavily as you dragged your nails down his back slowly, provokingly. You felt his responding groan rumble deep from within his chest.

His free hand latched into your hair and tugged your lips back to his. You both moaned as his tongue circled yours, twining around it, enticing yours to follow.

You swore the way Min Yoongi kissed could be felt all the way down to your bones.  

His kisses got greedier, more desperate as he seemed to be trying to memorize the taste of your mouth on his. “God-fucking-damn," he panted, pulling back slightly and resting his forehead on yours.

You smiled, completely fucked out. His fingertips dragged down your skin slowly until he reached your waist. His hands slid up under your shirt, and he rested his palms against your skin, fingers splayed down over your hips. His hold was undeniably possessive.

Shifting his head into the crevice of your neck, Yoongi muttered, “Go out with me, (y/n).”

The only answer your last few braincells could formulate was a garbled “Mkay”. But judging from the smile you felt against your pulse point, it was good enough for him.

a/n: originally was going to make this fic about jungkook (inspired by this post), but I decided I needed to write it about Yoongi bc he is baby

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[jiminrings]

umm maybe this is me projecting bc i am messaging you during my break but for a drabble request, yoongi in a retail setting???? 😐😐😐😐 oc could either be a co-worker or a regular customer who asks too many questions 😔😌

retail-type beat

drabble week: day three

drabble week masterlist

pairing: customer!yoongi x retail worker!reader

wordcount: 3k

glimpse: "hi! almost thought you were hiding from me for a second. anyways, is this sweater wool or cotton?"

feedback + support mean the world to me!!

the last time you checked, work doesn’t start until nine

you kNEW it doesn’t start until 9 in the morning, so clearly that’s why you’re just wearing slides instead of your sneakers

the company uniform is either black or purple (it has to be from what the store is selling though so you can get to choose) with of course!!!! a lanyard!!!!

and you know this, because you’re still wearing your slides from home because it isn’t opening time yet

“goddamn it, i forgot to bring my slippers,” jin moans the moment he walks to see you, looking down on your feet that only reminds him he’d be stuck in his cool yet painfully uncomfy sneakers

he’s probably the only co-worker that you’re truly close with, not feeling the urge to sell him just to get a free day

“i told you to get the sneakers that nurses use!!”

hands-down one of the best purchases you’ve ever made

retail’s hard and it’s not exactly the best-paying job!!! thankfully the franchise owner is a bit more generous so that’s why you get slightly-higher hourly pay

“i would if they looked a little more seasoned,” jin snorts and stubbornly crosses his arms, “i might sacrifice my pride and buy some compression socks.”

OOOOOH THOSE ARE GOOD TOO

makes you feel like ur walking on air

but lol no seokjin isn’t ready to buy those just yet

he’ll settle on some blisters and putting salonpas patches because they look cooler that way, thank u very much <3

jin yawns, talking about finding a steam iron somewhere to replace a blowdryer so he could break in his shoes

“you wipe the glass this time.”

oh right he absolutely hates wiping down the glass — even before opening!!! even when there aren’t any grubby kids that would soil it instantly with their equally as grubby hands

you don’t mind it honestly

you might honestly like it

you prefer wiping the glass a hundred times over than steaming clothes

there is nOT a single thought in your head when you spray on the solution to the glass, rag and squeegee tucked between your fingers when-

maybe you should’ve hOLY FUCKING SHIT

it’s not opening!!!! it is nOT nine o’clock in the morning!!!!

you know that the shop you’re working in is pretty fucking famous and it’s located on one of the most populated streets ever BUT THERE’S ALREADY SOMEONE

although the bucket hat seems familiar from a distance and-

oh it’s just yoongi

yoongi?

yoongi’s already here????

:O

yoongi, the guy in question, is an always customer!!

no, not a regular customer — an always customer

he comes every week and maybe even twice within that period

he’s a nice talkative customer who likes asking questions and even occasionally guides the other customers on what to buy and where to find it

he’s yoongi!!! of course that’s expected of him

he’s been going here long since you ever started working here, and jin keeps iNSISTING that he’s been here more frequently since you started like a year ago

but doesn’t he come at eleven in the morning?

“woah, yoongi’s already here? — doesn’t he come at eleven in the morning?”

?!!?!!

“i was just thinking the exact same thing.”

jin bangs the glass with his fist and you automatically wince and frown

you dO like cleaning the glass panes!! you didn’t say you liked cleaning them a second time :(

“YOONGI!”

“YES??”

you push jin’s fist away to wipe at the smudge his hand left

“IT’S NOT OPENING YET!”

“I KNOW!!”

wow they’re uh

they’re really loud

sometimes you forget how seokjin could be since it’s been awhile since you heard him yell

lol no one’s been shoplifting recently so you haven’t been hearing him

a mind-blowing idea is for jin to come outside and talk to him in a normal talking voice, so your ears would stop ringing

“HEY! WHAT IF YOU JUST ENTER EARLY IN?”

“REALLY? IS THAT EVEN ALLOWED??”

"YOONGI, EVERYONE ON THE FLOOR KNOWS YOUR NAME. NAMJOON EVEN GAVE YOU A CUSTOMARY BIRTHDAY GIFT, AND WE DON'T GIVE CUSTOMARY BIRTHDAY GIFTS TO ANY OTHER CUSTOMER!!"

namjoon, who technically should be called mr. kim because no one really thinks to call the franchise owner with their government first name, is actually pretty cool

but he's too busy these days and haven't been visiting because he's too busy tending to his newly-opened coffee shop

as if the money he earns from opening his franchise in a day alone isn’t enough :0

"IF YOU SAY SO?"

you’re the one who hikes up the roll-up door in the slightest, enough for only yoongi to enter and not encourage anyone else to nOT enter when it’s still not opening time!!!!

he only has to crouch a little but he still has to dust his thousand-dollar pants as if he crawled through mud

his cream-colored slacks with a large black hoodie that has a giant bear embroidered on the middle of it and mules

... you don't hate his outfits

pretty cute, actually

it's yoongi!!

you'd never catch him lacking!!!

you don't even have to envision him rocking the shit out a paper bag

one time, he came in the store wearing the WRINKLIEST brown linen jumpsuit that no iron could possibly fix and he still pulled it off

toon-teen-ten!

oh god that’s the sound of the intercom

and the sound of the intercom equates to jungkook

... as in jeon jungkook who’s the floor manager and his constant top one goal for every month is to endearingly annoy seokjin

he’s young and mischievous!! but if you were to ask him, only you and jungkook are the people in this floor he’d actually get drinks with outside the shop

“seokjin come to the lingerie department right now, please.”

you see the thing is :D

“now this is just funny

there’s walkie-talkies for everyone here!! jungkook likes intercoms, and seokjin like yelling!!

“WHY ME AGAIN?? I’VE ALREADY FOLDED-“

“there’s a literal rat and i need yOU to catch it!! you know that i hate rodents!!”

him and jungkook are forever gonna be on this eldest-youngest brother dynamic and while jungkook pouts and shared the extras that he gets, jin is the one who kills the bugs :D

10/10 totally fair

fine then!! he’ll catch that goddamn rat

that leaves you and yoongi. alone.

“why did you come so early this time?”

you ask out of courtesy, genuinely baffled too because you know that yoongi’s a creature of habit

yoongi’s eyes pop out, head fervently shaking no

“i’m typically not the type to do that, no.”

???

is he-

are you-

are you both talking about the same thing

yoongi’s face flushes in embarrassment, his mind just then registering what you were actually saying

“o-oh! it’s because last night, i dreamt of the sweater i saw here last week!!"

oh right

typical :D

"need me to find it for you or do you already know the aisle?"

you align the folded shirts by the corners as you pass, looking at yoongi briefly while he trails behind yoh

“not unless you pulled it out already."

he's hoping that dear god you haven't

the black sweater with the moon aND buildings on it and when you turn on the flash, the windows of said building reflect it right back???

he SHUDDERS just by thinking about it

it’s gonna go with everything!!! an instant boost of serotonin every time he sees it

"for you, yoongi?" you shake your head, a small smile on your face that he only sees every once in a while, "i'd comb through the entire stock room."

wait

that’s sweet :((

“i’ll hold you to that.”

you know what??? you're less cranky when it's only him, and a couple of hundred people less

your smiles aren't for customer-service and you don't have misplaced clothes hanging from your shoulders and your walkie-talkie isn't talking in latin

or when no one’s asking you to reach something from the top shelf

or when you’re on the way to the intercom because a kid got separated from their mother

or when someone’s approaching for a refund for a shirt who has a stain that’s 100% no doubt customer error

his feet immediately move on its own because he’s memorized the outline of this too many times

there it is!!!

the sweater he’s dreamt about is already on his hands, only a handful few left

the piece is considerably more expensive than majority of the items here, so that’s why they’re all spaced-out instead of being clustered altogether

yoongi rarely goes to the dressing room, regardless if it's a full-house or not!!

he could just look at an item and immediately tell that it’s made for him ta know

he's beyond sure that this sweater fits him perfectly, but he may want to be here a little longer

yoongi may have say inside one of the fitting rooms and spent a little time in it just to sit on the chair inside, not fitting the sweater at all

he's gotten his item SO quick and he wished he could've just walked slower or pretended to not know where it was!!!

he wants to spend a little more time here

you don't hate yoongi!!! but sometimes he could just be... yoongi

he's quite talkative and strikes it whenever, making you unguarded

he could be overbearing but like an overbearing kind of nice

yoongi’s nice!! he’s the type to ask a lot of questions sure, but he’s also the type that would point the other customers what to buy and where to find it

he’s the type to find an obvious faulty stitch on a shirt, but he’d just quietly exchange it instead of asking for the manager

he’s the type you wouldn’t want to stand behind in line because it would take a long time for him to finish, but he’s also the same one who buys giftcards with generous amounts for family and friends

yoongi’s kind of cool and that’s cemented on your mind

"what do you got for me?"

he materializes out of nowhere, spooked because you thought he already ringed up and was out of the store already

it just happens to be ten minutes before opening and you’re doing last-minute arrangements on a new spread

well, yoongi most certainly is still here and his attention’s piqued

“we have... a new collection."

you clear your theory, awkwardly gesturing because you’re more than aware that yoongi hasn’t seen this either

“yeah, i know that. but like, what's going on??" he gestures to the displays and racks, squinting his eyes, "what's the theme? what's the material?"

:O

uhm you haven't read the brief about this

you aren't even sURE if there is one!!

doesn't everyone make up something on the spot in retail

or atleast that’s what seokjin tells you

“the theme," you clear your throat, scratching your temple before gesturing towards the full rack, "is everything."

“everything?

yoongi’s eyebrow is raised, not expecting that answer at all

you look back to the new feature, and nOW that you think about it,, there's no cohesion at all

“y-yes. the shop was going for the theme of uhm, everything... all at once — yeah, that's it. everything all at once."

it’s a nice way to put it when not one bit of the new collection goes together

“hmmmm. i like it,” yoongi nods solemnly and tilts his head, “and the material?"

"the material?"

you repeat, eyesight not the best so you can’t really tell anything off the bat or uh aNYTHING really

"t-the material is shirt."

they're all shirts!!! that’s it

yoongi grimaces in disgust, the first time you’ve seen of it

“what?? you can't say that.”

he outsretches his hand to the nearest article, holding it up by the hanger

"this, right here, is satin. see how it shines like silk, but doesn't feel like silk?"

uhm yes

you have a gist of what he’s saying but yes

yoongi picks up a pink button shirt this time, flipping it inside out

"this, is silk charmeuse. look at the inside, is it smooth?"

okay where is he going with this

he urges you to put your hand on the fabric and uhhh you didn't sign up for this???

it looks smooth, sure!! end of discussion

"yea-..."

“it's not. it's rough. it is smooth, but it's dull. silk charmeuse is still silk, but the backing it has is different from the lustrous part."

okay yoongi

you’re starting to feel uncomfortable and it has to do something with the tone he’s using on you

“can't believe you didn't know that!! how about this," he plucks out a shirt with a tiny print at the middle of it, "cotton or polyester and rayon?"

"i don't-"

there’s an itch in your neck that you want to scratch, a tell-tale sign that you just wANT to remove yourself from this situation

“come on!! it's a dead giveaway!!"

:((

why is he being like this?

toon-teen-ten!

“y/n, panty section please. jin almost got bit by a mouse and he needs comforting. two minutes until opening, people!!"

jungkook speaks at the right moment, and jin’s little incident is enough of a reason for you to bolt

yoongi's still looking at you but you can't afford to embarrass yourself further

“bye. happy shopping."

huh?

yoongi’s face falls when you leave as cold as that!! typically when you were going to show him out (when it’s regular shop hours), there’d be a smile :((

there's not even a customer service smile :(((

yoongi goes to the only cashier that's open so far and it happens to be far away from you and a teary seokjin

seokjin's fine he didn't even get bit!! that much he could say

but are you okay? uhhh you kinda went cold on him by the end and he thought he started on a good note

yoongi doesn't visit for another week and you don't find yourself counting the days until you meet him again

you did not have a devil wears prada moment where anne hathaway has an epiphany for fashion knowledge

you just felt belittled at a job that isn’t exactly what you wanted anyways

needed, yes. but wanted? not exactly

you know that basic knowledge about clothes is required in a retail job like this and you have it!! you do!!!!

you’d know more if only there were actual available resources for employees to know!!! nobody besides yoongi asks anyways

you’d know if you have time to yourself and aren’t working two jobs trying to make ends meet and tHEN you could pull up a book or something!!!

you’d know if your life is as lax as yoongi’s and could have the budget to buy new things for yourself every single week

“jin, i need to ask you something.”

he hums as called, looking at you briefly until you get on with it

“do you know the difference between silk and silk charmeuse?"

he shrugs casually while you're sitting inside one of the closed-off fitting rooms to catch a break, sharing a burger because the store’s packed-packed

why did you ask him? it’s too easy

“one's made by worms, and the other's a pokémon."

that,.,., could not possibly be righti* it brings you a laugh and you honestly don’t even try to correct him

it’s 11:15 and you kNOW it’s time to resume your shift, straightening your shirt because atleast one (1) person would hound you when they see a familiar red lanyard

oh you’re hounded alright

“hi! almost thought you were hiding from me for a second.”

yoongi????

oh

you haven’t seen him for a week and you don’t know what to feel in all honesty

"anyways, is this sweater wool or cotton?"

wow

you're quite speechless as he holds up the item

really?

this thing all over again???

why are you even surprised

the only thing that yoongi gets your customer service smile, fishing your hand from inside the sweater to show him

“70% wool."

that's it???

NO GOOD MORNING????

you're mad at him, aren't you?

he knew it :((

he knew something was wrong but he just didn’t know what

he’s gonna fix this!! he will

which is why the very next day, he takes the day off from his work and comes to the store at a time he knows you’d surely be there

you're on cashier duty and you like it actually :D

you have an option to sit and the way you’re just gonna scan pricetags (and occasionally enter the code if it doesn’t work) is really appealing

“good morning!"

you’re about to grab the items from the basket laid on the counter and your eyes could only see the very familiar hand

the same one you’ve seen go through racks and racks

yoongi??

he sets his items one by one, buying himself more time

the first one is the same exact sweater he came to wait for before opening

“you already bought this."

you tell him even before you could hold it back, looking back at him briefly before you scan the tag

“i know. i just wanted to see you."

oh

oh

yoongi threw a bunch of other items (individually) so it would be a longer talk, but you scan each item quickly that he’s grabbing things from the counter

hand sanitizer!!! hair ties!!! keychains!!!! yeah he needs them

“i'm sorry that i tend to spring shit on you most of the time. you don't need to know the difference between silk and silk charmeuse."

you only chuckle then, a meek smile on your face

"it's okay, yoongi.”

“it's not."

... it’s not?

yoongi fidgets, opening and closing his mouth like he’s nervous!!! he’s never had his credit card cancelled but he could only feel that this type of jitterness is more than the former

“can i make it up to you? no lanyards, no baskets, no customer service?? i don't wanna fuck things up with you."

“don't feel obligated-"

“i know i could be a condescending ass who expects people to automatically know fabric and whatnot, but i wanna make it up to you."

alright yoongi’s a really good apology-maker

you mIGHT be even flustered a little

“you're holding the line, yoongi.”

“i cleared my schedule."

“i haven’t!!!!!” - guy in the back

“dinner at my place at 8. i-i promise to make your hard-earned break after your shift worthwhile!!!"

hmmm

maybe that wouldn’t hurt

“okay. just because you're holding the line."

“fine by me."

:))

yoongi transfers all the items he bought, all but one, to his tote bag

he hands back the paper bag to you, scribbling his address on the back of the receipt before he does

he lingers a little while at the counter, the people behind him ALREADY switching lanes to the one seokjin’s just opened beside you

it's the sweater that he has too

yoongi scratches the back of his head, this time being the meek one

“what? m-matching sweaters for our first date. s'cute."

[sp00ky-arts]

You Take My Breath Away

I can’t believe I’m doing this *hides face* Okay so I wrote this some time ago but never got to posting it because I thought it was trash (though I draw mostly anyway.) I was having Bo feels and needed to let them out so I wrote this for the heck of it. So enjoy this crappy smut story.

Synopsis: Basically you patch up Bo after a victim gets difficult and things get heated

(Sorry if Bo is a little out of character I changed him a bit)

You were making your way up to the gas station to see what Bo was up to. You tended to stay away from their work, as they didn’t want you getting mixed up in the mess, but it was okay because you preferred it that way. A few months back you were actually a victim yourself. However, miraculously things changed and were spared, you became part of this little family. They very rarely used you as a distraction like I said before but sometimes it came in handy having a girl around. The guys seemed to warm up to you pretty quickly. Lester warmed up to you instantly when he first spoke to you the first time, Vincent took a liking to you as well, him being a brother figure to you. Bo was a little bit harder at first but eventually he came around, sharing a bond quickly. But truth be told, you had a bit of a crush on the bastard mechanic man. It was insane to have a crush on someone who was about to literally kill you, yet you couldn’t stop thinking about the blue eyed man. So you simply buried those feeling and moved on.      

 Upon arriving at the gas station you here clattering noises and you froze. ‘Was he dealing with a victim?’ You though to yourself. Maybe you should come back later. But hearing Bo yelp out, your curiosity peeked further. Walking slowly down the basement were the noises became louder. Your heart beating at the possibilities that could be going on right now. Reaching the bottom of the stair your eyes widened at what you saw. Bo was indeed dealing with a victim that got loose. His nose seemed to be bleeding, and judging from the bruises that were forming he’s taken a few blows as well. Part of you should you feel relief that he was getting a taste of his own medicine, but another part you wanted to jump into his defence. After all, you had no one to go home to really. Home life was a struggle to begin with, and on top of that you found out your boyfriend had been cheating on you with your now ex-best friend so there was that. Really nothing to go back to. Here, you oddly felt at home, relaxed and at peace. Back home it was just pure and utter chaos. Seeing a lone crow bar strewn on the floor among all the ruckus, you pick it up, a firm grip as you tiptoed behind the man who was currently taunting Bo with a knife. His eyes flicked to you quickly before looking back at the man and feigning a look of defeat.

 “Well, l-looks like…. you got me fair n’ s-square, man. You win.” He said in between breaths to make it seem more believable.

 “That’s right, motherfucker, you’re gonna rot in hell when I-” You struck the man at the back of his head cutting him off. The sickening crack could be heard before he slumped to the floor knocked out.

 “Fuckin’ prick. Help me get him upstairs, Vincent’s on his way.” He stood up, a groan of pain escaped his lips as he stood up from his crouched position. You did as told, dropping the crow bar and grabbing the other side of the man that was still unconscious. You made it upstairs and sure enough Vincent was already there waiting. He tossed him in the back of the truck and with a wave he drove the man back to the house to finish with him. You look back at Bo as you heard him making groaning sounds again.

 “You okay?” You ask, frown on your face.

“Yeah, it’s just, the fuckin’ dick can really pack a punch. Shit…”  He hisses in pain.

 “Let me get the first aid kit.” You say and walk back into the gas station with Bo in tow.

 “Where is the first aid kid?” You asked as you couldn’t seem to find it on the upper level.

 “Downstairs.” He pointed back downstairs. You drag him by the hand and brought him back downstairs before telling him to sit in the chair.

 “it’s okay, darlin, you don’t have to.” Bo spoke up. The nickname made you heat up. You’ve heard it so many times and yet it still caused butterflies to rise in your stomach.

 “I know, but I just want to help, besides some of those could get infected.” You gestures to some of the cuts on his face. He chuckled and let you do your thing.

 “Always keen on helpin’ out, don’t ya, sweetheart.” He muttered mostly to himself. You bring over the first aid kit and trying to get to his height as best you can. Trying not to cringe at the bruise that was blooming on his cheek as well as cuts.

 “Now, you gotta ice the bruises because those look nasty, but I can put a little Polysporin on the cuts.” (I googled it, you can put polysporin on cuts, scrapes, and burns.) You took a bit of the cream on your finger and gently dabbed it on his open cuts. Bo was so focused on you as you tended to his wounds, your face burning as he was watching your every move. You tried ignoring it and focused on your task at hand but it was getting difficult, you could feel his minty breath on you, lips practically beckoning you for a kiss. You should stop before you start creating scenarios in your head.

 “Okay and done. It’s not the best but it’s what I can do for now, hopefully it helps, just gotta ice those bruises…actually I think we-” You started to say but Bo pulled you back into him. You were practically on top of him, you were sure if you moved at the right angle your lips would touch. Your gaze locked at his lips before looking up at his eyes.

 “Bo?” You ask, quirking your brow up at him. He stares at your lips and bites his before he meets your eyes. He starts leaning in and your heart starts thumping in your chest. ‘Holy shit, is this about to happen right now?’ you think to yourself. He was so close that if you nudged forward in the slightest you’d be kissing.

 “Tell me to stop and I will.” He muttered lowly. Before you had time to comprehend what he said, he quickly shut his eyes and placed his lips atop yours. You were practically stone in your position as Bo proceeded to kiss you. Crap, it was happening. Your eyes slowly closed and gently kissed back, the taste of copper stimulated your senses. Hands placed on his shoulders gently, as you didn’t really know where else to put them, kissing him with a lot more passion and vigor. He licked your bottom lip asking for entrance. Your eyes widened at and pulled away, gasping for breath.

 “What happened?” Bo asked, searching your face.

 “D-Do you think, we’re moving too fast?” You asking biting your lip.

 “You wanna stop?” He asked back. He got you there. It honestly felt good but you weren’t sure if this was moving too quickly, still you shook your head no. He smirked at that.

 “Then where were we?”

 “I think we were here.” You reply with a smirk of your own. Crawling up until you straddled his lap and re-connecting your mouths once again. It soon became a dance of tongues and hands exploring as you melted into each other. Before you knew you were both stripped out of your clothes aside from your bra and panties and his boxer briefs.

 “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” Bo mumbled against your neck, pepper soft kisses on the supple skin. You leaned back to give him more access.

 “Nnghhh..B-Bo…” You moan out. His hands traveled down your back, stopping at the clasp to your bra where he quickly undid it with no problem. He tossed the material across the room and looked at your now revealing chest. He trailed down to where he was facing your chest, sucking a taut nipple into his mouth. He lashed his tongue over the nub as you gripped onto his hair.

 “Jesus, Bo, s-slow down…” You moan. You didn’t expect that this would happen, but man was this better than your imagination.

“Sorry, Doll, just can’t control myself.”  He says switching to the other. As much as you like this foreplay that was going on, you just wanted him inside of you already.

 “B-Bo, can you..ahhhh,, c-can you please put it in.” You bite your lip.

 “Can’t wait can you? That’s alright neither can I, wanted to tear into you for quite some time now, babygirl.” Bo rasps. He takes off his undergarments along with your, leaving you both completely naked.

 “I wanna ride you.” You say, cheeks heated.  

 “Go ahead, Darlin’, it’s all yours.” You bite your lip as you align yourself with his member.

 “Can’t wait to tear into this cunt.” He utters to himself. You sink onto him as he held himself for you. You both groan at the feeling, you for feeling full, and him because the tightness and warmth your cunt is doing to him.

 “Holy shit, Bo…” You toss your head back as you begin slow movements, up and down slowly. However, this just wouldn’t do, you needed more. You speed up your movements and set a good pace.

 “Shit…now ya sure you’ve never done this, Darlin’? He asked. You slap his chest and playfully roll your eyes at his comment.

 “Hey, I’m kidding, I’m kidding..fuck.”

 “Ohh sorry, did I hurt you?” You say in worry.

 “Nah, I’m fine.”  You continue your ministrations. You couldn’t believe you were already feeling like you were gonna finish.

 “B-Bo, I-I think I’m gonna….” You moan out. Bo’s hand darts to your clit and starts rubbing quick circles on it as as he fucks in to you harder, you felt your walls start to flutter

“That’s it, do it.” He instructs. You came with a moan and a shout of his name and that was enough to send Bo over the edge to his release.

 “Shit, baby…” He groans and clenches his eyes shut.  You slump against him out of breath as he holds your still shaking body against his.

 “Bo?” You look up at him, eyes searching into his blue hues.

 “Mmm?” He hums while stroking your hair and staring back at you.

 “You know I care about you.” You say.

 “I know ya do, darlin’ He replies tucking hair behind your ear and kissing you softly.  

   If for some reason you want to see more let me know.

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

close encounters of a new kind

The Witcher/X-Files au that literally nobody asked for

tw: the FBI

---

Jaskier straightens his new plaid blazer, squares his shoulders, and swans his way into the Director’s office as confidently as possible. The Director stands quickly from the leather chair behind his enormous desk and offers Jaskier a wrinkled hand to shake. “Good morning, Agent Pankratz, and thank you for coming in on such short notice. It’s nice to finally meet you face-to-face.”

“And you, Sir,” Jaskier nods. The Director gestures for him to take a seat and the agent does, trying to keep his nerves from showing. “Your message sounded urgent; how can I help you?”

“You’ve been with us for just over two years, yes?”

“Yes.”

“You attended medical school but chose not to practice; why not become a doctor? Why work for the FBI?”

“My parents thought it was just rebellion,” Jaskier says, chuckling a bit to break the tension. “But actually, I was recruited out of medical school. I thought it would be a good opportunity to establish myself.”

“Are you familiar with an agent by the name of Geralt deRiv?”

Jaskier tries desperately to hide his shock and confusion. Of course he’s heard of Geralt ‘Spooky’ deRiv, the FBI’s most notorious psychological profiler-slash-field agent. “I know him by reputation, Sir.”

“Reputation?” the Director looks skeptical and Jaskier hurries to continue.

“I know that he’s an Oxenfurt-educated Psychologist who wrote one of the most educational and widely-read studies on serial killers and the occult. I know he’s helped catch several notorious and dangerous murderers. He’s an incredible analyst.”

The Director’s eyebrows scrunch together thoughtfully and he glances up at Jaskier with an expression of utter exhaustion on his wizened face. “Lately he’s been… focused on a project outside the FBI mainstream. We’re having trouble reigning in his less standard investigative practices and we need... Have you ever heard of the X-Files, Agent Pankratz?”

“They deal with unexplained phenomena, if I’m correct, Director.”

“Yes, Agent Pankratz, you are correct. That’s why we’ve asked you here, you see. We’d like you to assist Agent deRiv. We need you to write field reports of your experiences and double-check the validity of his work.”

“Are you asking me to debunk the X-Files and all of Agent deRiv’s work?”

“No, Agent Pankratz. We merely want you to observe, assist, and solve whatever cases possible. We want you to tell us the truth.”

“Understood, Sir.”

---

A few long minutes later, Jaskier finds himself standing outside a nondescript beige door with a covered glass window; the same as every other door in the long white hallway. He knocks twice and puts his hand on the knob without waiting for an answer, even as a low voice calls from within: “Nobody here but the FBI’s most unwanted.”

Jaskier steps into the room and takes a long, slow look around. As with any FBI office, there are a couple wooden desks piled with boxes of files, their accompanying chairs invisible beneath the collected data. The walls are covered with graphs and data charts, newspaper clippings and, oddly enough, there’s a poster displayed prominently at the center of the chaos depicting a UFO and the large white block letters: I WANT TO BELIEVE.

Huddled over a desk, his surprisingly broad shoulders hunched forward and his head lowered over a light board, sits the most handsome man Jaskier has ever laid eyes on. This is Geralt deRiv? This absolute god of a person, with long white hair that cascades over his shoulders like a waterfall of moonlight and eyes so piercingly light that they’re almost gold rather than hazel… this is Spooky deRiv?! Jaskier takes a moment to organize his thoughts before fully entering the room and approaching his new (gorgeous) partner.

“I’m Agent Julian Pankratz, but you can call me Jaskier,” the younger man introduces himself, stepping forward and offering his hand. “I’ve been assigned to work with you.”

“Ah, lovely. Who did you piss off to end up down here with me?” the senior agent grunts, glancing between Jaskier’s hand and the lightboard. 

“I’m actually really excited to be your new partner,” Jaskier smiles. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Hmm.”

“If you doubt my credentials I have my-”

“You’re a medical doctor even though you did your undergraduate thesis on Einstein’s Twin Theory. High marks, especially for someone who had the nerve to rewrite Einstein.”

“Yes, well-”

“It’s just that the laws of physics apply so very rarely to my work,” Geralt gestures at the alien poster, the lightboard, the walls tacked up with newspaper clippings; Jaskier shrugs in reply. “But maybe I can get your medical opinion on this.”

He turns off the lights and shows Jaskier a series of photos, followed by a chemical equation that leaves the doctor reeling. Holy shit. This is… fascinating. 

“Four different states, four different women. All the same marks and the same unknown chemical compound left behind. Now, can you tell me why this is being labeled unexplained phenomena and shoved down here with the rest of these boxes? Why isn’t this case getting solved by our outstanding agents, right this very moment? This picture is less than two days old.”

“Well I suppose that it is unexplained, isn’t it? Until we solve the case, of course,” Jaskier grins at Geralt over his shoulder. He knows he’s a goner. It’s too late for him, both professionally and romantically. This guy has him by the heart and the mind. Geralt smirks a bit and shakes his head. Jaskier looks back at the projector screen and asks, “Do you have any theories?”

“Several.”

“Well then, partner,” Jaskier grins, shoving a box over so that he can perch on the desk’s worn surface. “Let’s get started.”

[kohanayaki]

Caught in the Middle (Steve Harrington x Reader x Billy Hargrove) Ch 8

Holy shit, it’s been so long since I’ve looked over this story! I found a half completed draft of this chapter in my old files and had a sudden influx of inspiration to finish it. At the very least I wanted to release this chapter, even if I don’t end up continuing or finishing this story. Thank you to everyone who’s read this trainwreck so far <3

LINKS: CH 1  CH 2  CH 3 CH 4 CH 5  CH 6  CH 7 CH 8

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Ch 8 .:Three Runaways and a Russian:.

“Hopper?”

The surly man turned to you with a look of equal surprise.

“(Y/n)? What are you doing here?” Hopper asked, eyes narrowing, “Hold on, aren't you supposed to be in school?”

“Aren't you supposed to be at the police station?” you countered.

He sighed in exasperation and shook his head.

“Listen, kid, I don't have time for this,” he said.

“Well what are you doing?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he said crossly.

“Uh, that doesn't look like nothing,” you said, pointing over to the Slurpee machine where a man with dark curly hair and glasses was inspecting it in wonder. He was handcuffed but still held a large empty cup in his left hand, eyebrows furrowed as he stared at the frozen drink move in circles on the inside of the machine.

“He's an extremely dangerous criminal,” Hopper said, “I'm. . . transporting him.”

“Okay, then why is Joyce here?” you asked. She was standing next to the unfamiliar man trying to show him how the dispenser worked. At that moment she turned to Hopper only to make eye contact with you.

“(Y/n)?” she said, eyes wide.

“Hi Mrs. Byers,” you waved awkwardly. What the hell was going on here?

“You got her mixed up with this too?” Joyce chided Hopper, her expression hardening as she walked over.

“I didn't get her mixed up in jack shit,” Hopper said incredulously, “She just doesn't know how to mind her own business.”

“Yeah, I'm right here, guys,” you said in annoyance, “And sorry if I 'intruded' but you're in a 7-11, not your office, so if I see a guy in literal handcuffs I'm going to poke around because that's suspicious and you know it.”

Upon seeing you point at him the man in glasses smiled at you, waving as much as he could while his hands were restrained. He then went back to fiddling with the Slurpee machine and you walked over to him, taking the cup from his hand.

“You have to press down on it,” you said, holding the lever down and filling his cup with the cherry flavor. You stuck in a straw and held it out to him which he accepted with a wide grin, nodding his head.

“What's your name anyways?” you asked him.

He just tilted his head, spluttering slightly as he turned to Joyce.

“His name is Alexei,” Joyce clarified.

“Hold on, does this guy not speak English?” you asked in disbelief.

“Uh, n-no,” the man said, able to read some context from the tone of your voice, “No English.” His words were followed by him speaking in a foreign language and making gestures with his hands.

“I'm sorry, where the hell did you find this random Russian guy?” you turned to Hopper for an explanation.

“Top secret police business,” he said, frowning, “Butt out.”

“So I'm not allowed to know about this 'top secret police business' but Joyce is?” you crossed your arms.

“What's that supposed to mean?” Hopper raised his voice.

“I'm just implying that some favoritism is being applied when it comes to breaking your precious rules,” you scoffed.

“Trust me, kid, you have no idea what the big picture looks like right now, okay? A lot of shit went down when you were gone that you couldn't even begin to imagine. This is dangerous.”

“I'm not a kid anymore so don't call me that,” you glared, “And if this is so dangerous then don't I deserve to know?”

“No,” Hopper said coldly, “Now listen to me and drive your ass back to Hawkins High before I have you turned in for truancy.”

His words made the situation painfully ironic when you all turned towards the front of the gas station as the roar of an all too familiar engine rang out. Billy's blue Camaro skid to a harsh stop as he climbed out of the driver's seat, running over to the door as he saw you through the glass. Once you got over the initial shock your mood soured as Billy made his way inside.

“(Y/n) I have to talk to you-”

“Save it,” you glared at Billy, cutting his sentence short, “Hold on, did you follow me?!”

“Please just hear me out,” he said, a rare crack of desperation in his voice, “Listen I'm-”

“What? You're sorry?” you scoffed, “You're not sorry. You clearly didn't give a shit about me from the beginning, so if you think everything's going to go back to the way it was after some half assed apology then think again.”

“What the hell is this?” Hopper asked Joyce off to the side.

“Lover's quarrel,” Joyce whispered back, “Just let them talk it out.”

“Well if you won't let me apologize then what the fuck do you expect me to do?” Billy said in frustration.

“Nothing!” you shouted back, “Don't talk to me, don't talk about me, just move on to your next little conquest and you'll forget all about this in a week.”

You felt a sharp pang in your chest as the words left your mouth. You didn't want to believe them but you felt like it was true. There was no changing Billy Hargrove, and even if there was, why would you of all people be the one to be able to do it? You weren't anything special, but Billy felt the exact opposite.

He didn't get the chance to say anything back, though, because at that moment the sound of a second car engine was heard as you saw Steve's car pull up to the gas station.

“Oh, you've got to be shitting me,” you groaned.

Steve was panting as he ran inside to the gas station, barely catching his breath before speaking.

“(Y/n), I wanted to-”

“I'm sorry, I thought I made it clear that you two are the last people I want to talk to right now,” you said coldly.

“Wait, hold on, what's going on here? Why aren't any of you at school?” Joyce asked, coming to the realization it was 12:34 on a weekday.

“I broke some stupid guy's nose, it's a long story,” you mumbled, “What I didn't expect was these two idiots following me.” You glared at them, trying to put as much distance between you two as you could.

“I was worried about you,” Steve said, causing Billy to roll his eyes.

“Oh please,” Billy scoffed under his breath.

Steve's expression hardened as he turned to Billy.

“Hey, you don't get to say shit,” he said, “You're the one who led her on and made her cry in the first place.”

“Led her on?” Billy's voice rose as he go in Steve's face, “Listen, pretty boy, if I remember correctly I beat the shit out of you a little less than a year ago. You asking for a rematch?”

“Yeah, maybe I am,” Steve glared, “Because I'm sick and tired of you treating my friend like shit.”

“Oh, 'your friend', huh?” Billy chuckled, “Bet you wish you were more than that, don't you, Harrington?”

“Both of you cut it out!”

Something in you snapped as you forcefully separated the pair, keeping them on opposite sides of the isle. Silence blanketed the rest of the convenience store as you spoke.

“I never asked for either of you to follow me here,” you said, feeling a wave of emotional exhaustion take you over, “As a matter of fact, I asked to be left alone, so you two need to get that through your thick fucking skulls because this is seriously the last thing I need right now.”

Alexei just stood innocently by, wondering what all the yelling was about and if he could do anything to help.

Through all the commotion none of you noticed the way Hopper was staring out the convenience store window, his stomach dropping as he saw a tiny figure on the road drawing nearer. Upon closer inspection he could see the silhouette of a man on a motorcycle.

“Get down,” Hopper said suddenly, not taking his eyes off the man.

His words made you freeze, all your senses on high alert as you could feel something was wrong.

“Wait, what?” Steve said in confusion.

“I said GET DOWN!” Hopper shouted, pulling you and Joyce to the floor just as a gunshot rang out and the windowpane shattered into pieces. Shards of glass fell onto your shoulders as you ducked behind one of the isles and panic quickly settled in.  

You could feel Hopper dragging you further away from the door, your body frozen in fear.

“Listen to me, you need to get the hell out of here, all of you,” Hopper said.

“Hopper, what the fuck is going on?” you asked, your hands shaking.

“I don't have time to explain,” he said quickly, “Joyce, get them to Murray's house as fast as you can.”

“What about you?” you said, “If you think we're leaving you here like some shitty action movie you've got another thing coming.”

“I'll buy you some time,” he said, “And besides, he's after me, not you, but that doesn't mean he won't shoot you if you get in his way. Do you understand? Get out of here!”

Before you could say anything back Hopper was thrown back against the wall by a muscular man in a leather jacket. Joyce immediately grabbed you by the arm and started pulling you away along with Steve and Billy. You could hear them yelling but it felt like you were hearing things underwater. Your heartbeat pounded rapidly in your ears as you turned around, every nerve in your body shouting at you to run.

Your heart nearly stopped as another gunshot rang out in the store and the tile cracked beneath your feet as the bullet landed a mere few feet from where you'd been standing seconds earlier.

“Don't you dare, you son of a bitch!” Hopper growled as he tackled the man to the floor, getting a few solid hits in. The man grunted as his back harshly met the ground, his head slamming into one of the shelves. As Joyce turned you around again to get out you could only pray that Hopper would be okay.

“There's no way we can fit everyone into one car,” you said as you neared the exit to the parking lot, “Where's Hopper's police van?”

Joyce looked off to the side.

“Oh, um, it's. . . on fire in the middle of the woods.”

“It's what?!”

“I promise I'll explain everything to you once we're safe,” Joyce said, “Right now we need to figure out how to get everyone out of here.”

You turned over your shoulder and winced as the man landed a solid hit to Hopper's gut, knocking the wind out of him and making him stumble back into a rack of chips. Hopper grunted in pain but immediately fired back with a punch of his own, his right swing hitting the man square in the jaw. Hopper took the chance to follow up a knee to the man's gut, knocking him down with one last hit, although he knew he wouldn't stay down for long.

As Hopper struck him down you caught a flash of silver fly out of the man's jacket pocket and skid across the floor. You stared at the keys for a moment before your gaze flew up to the Harley parked outside the gas station.

'This is a stupid idea,' you told yourself, but in the moment it was the best you could do.

“Take my car,” you said to Joyce, tossing her your keys, “I'm jacking his ride.”

Joyce, Steve, and Billy looked at you like you'd just sprouted wings.

“Oh no you're not, it's way too dangerous,” Joyce said, incredulously, “He'll be close enough to shoot you if you make a run for it now.”

“I'll go around the outside,” you said, “If Hopper keeps him distracted I can make it.”

“Have you ever even ridden a motorcycle before?” Billy tried to reason with you.

“As a matter of fact I have,” you said, your eyes narrowing. You didn't mention the fact that it was just one time with your dad years ago but hey, you were a fast learner.

“Just trust me on this,” you said, “Think about it, even if we do manage to get out of here he'll catch up to us in no time on a motorcycle. If we take his transportation away he won't be able to find us again, or at least it'll make it harder.”

Joyce swallowed hard, shaking her head.

“I can't believe I'm about to let you do this,” she said.

“I'll see you in ten seconds,” you promised, “Get everyone in the car and we'll pick up Hopper on the way out.”

“Be careful,” Steve said, and despite you still being mad at him the life or death situation compelled you to say:

“You too.”

And with that, Joyce started to lead everyone outside to the parking lot towards your car.

You forced down any doubt you had in your mind and took a deep breath before running towards where Hopper and the man were fighting. You slid to a stop as you snatched the keys off the ground and made a break for the front of the store.  

The man seemed to notice what you did as he snarled and reached for his gun, but Hopper was too quick. In one swift movement he knocked the gun out of the man's hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, throwing him as far away from you as he could.

You thanked Hopper silently as you put the keys in the ignition, the engine roaring to life. Your heart pounded in your ears as you leveled yourself on the motorcycle. You spotted Hopper out of the corner of your eye as he sprinted towards the store front, Alexei practically flying behind him in his grip. The Russian let out a small yelp as Hopper threw him unceremoniously into the backseat of the car, his body sprawled across Billy and Steve.

“Floor it, Joyce,” Hopper huffed, scrambling into the passenger's seat.

She didn't need to be told twice. The smell of burning rubber drifted past you as the tires squealed, all the passengers forced backwards at the force of the sudden jolt of speed.

You leaned into the turn as you moved to follow the car, daring one last glance over your shoulder at the man in the leather jacket. He threw what remained of a shelf off of his shoulders as he staggered to his feet, his expression terrifying as he stared you down. With a deep breath you turned to the road, quickly catching up with your Jaguar and leaving the infuriated man behind.

“Woah woah hey, my fucking car is still back there!” Billy shouted as you sped away.

“Really, that's what you're concerned about right now?!” you shouted over the wind, tempted to reach around the car and slap him. Your focus was forcefully pulled back to the road as you felt the cycle waver, quickly adjusting your weight as you tried to get use to the feeling. You were suddenly acutely aware of the helmet you weren't wearing. You took a long draw of breath in through your nose as you tried to calm your buzzing nerves, your knuckles white as you gripped the handlebars.

“Alright, Hop. You wanna tell me what the hell that was about?”

Taglist: @in-my-dreams-2000 @ggclarissa @iris1697 @5sosxgrethan @ohnoniella @sarcasticalphaofthelooserspack @aspiring-fangirls-world @wow-im-so-tired @hopesxxhigh @justanothercrazyassfangirl @too-many-lanes @whimsylavender @bish-ima-clown @amarachoren @mosiacbrokenheartstf @mcuvlxgs @xapham @metuel18 @immirandaq @nellaphine @multi-madison @gingertalksshit @jojo-buttercup @kyberhearts @mvdelaine @minnie-marvel @caitlin-rose28 @zandaleekrz @r3inventedd @void-fire-rose @macymafia @wanna-be-idle @newtsshelbys @kimmydespell @weyheyokay @r4ttusr4ttus @cynthianokamaria @spookyartisanmuffineggs @youcanstandundermyamberella @ashadowoftheforest @shrektiledysfunction @arithatonegirl @banannie25 @daddyuwuss @truthdaze @supervoldejaygent @gigi-maria-argu @dolan-mendes @mavix @reflectionsofyouruniverse @angelsarefalling @billyhargrovescigarette

[poptod]

Hi! Can I have an enemies to lovers fic between Ahkmenrah and a Nubian Queen, where their territories are at war with each other (as in a war is literally taking place) 😇😇

notes: man, ive been integrating nubia/kush into my ancient egyptian stories for How long now and i havent thought of doing this? damn. anyway i sort of changed the prompt a little cause i didnt want to get too much into the politics between ancient egypt and nubia cause holy fuck was that a hyperobsession of mine for a bit WC: 1.8k

+

This was... unconventional, to put it lightly. You and a Pharaoh inherited a war from your parents – a longlasting conflict between Nubia and Egypt, and having it end up this way was something no one could have prepared for.

You had directed armies yourself; put yourself in battle, ridden hordes of bulls through encampments and foreign soldiers. It was a purposeful tactic to incite fear in those who opposed you, a lesson in the dramatics handed down to you by your father. He always had an eye for showmanship.

Ahkmenrah conducted undercover operations and covert raids and, at times, led his armies into battle. He was renowned for his work with swords and daggers, often using fire to get his way. By lighting your cities aflame, he weakened the power of Nubia, and destroyed precious resources and lives.

Both of you had earned your share of scars, up and down your arms, puncturing your chest and slashing your skin. You personally fought one another on several occasions – the month-long conflict in Semna, the burning of Buhen, the advance on Aswan. Your officers attested to your hatred of the man, and the people of Egypt were well in the know of the Pharaonic family's distaste for Nubians.

"That bastard cut two of my fingers off," you often recounted, and often (and coincidentally) on the same days the Pharaoh would say, "that little shit ruined my perfect skin."

What he meant by this remained, for a good while, unknown to those who heard it. His officers and advisors had asked him several times, but he never gave a straight answer. He kept it a nice secret till it was inevitably discovered to be long, numerous scars ranging all up his back. From his shoulder blades to the small of his back, scars had ruined the once smooth skin, a gift from you to him.

How you gave him these scars was also unknown, and continued to be so forever. He never answered how it happened and you never spoke about it.

However, the answer became clear, though not officially confirmed.

You looked off the side of the bed, listless eyes drifting between the different paintings lining the bedroom's walls. Unlike the grandeur of the court room and dining room, the images were not of the Pharaoh, instead displaying the wealth of a happy garden. It was art you had somehow come to miss in your time away from Egypt.

Kisses landed on the back of your neck before hands travelled to your waist, squeezing the supple skin as the kisses grew lower. You attempted to shake the touch off but he was persistent.

"No," you said, squirming in place but not bothering to leave your spot on the bed. "I came here to settle my debt and I should return to that."

"Lie here with me and your debt is settled," he murmured, lips moving against your skin as he spoke.

"That is not even close to –"

"Shhh," he said softly, and his movements continued without pause, searching the body he had gotten to know uncomfortably well.

Unbeknownst to the populace and to many of your officials, the two of you exchanged letters. Nothing of fantastic importance nor hatred, but instead a communication between two people who had no one else to relate to besides each other. Where else would you find a King or Queen embroiled in conflict?

So you related to one another, and the information you relayed in your letters was always thrice-checked, a tactic to keep Ahkmenrah from using anything against you. He did the same with his own letters, which you expected him to.

Your worst enemy and closest friend continued to kiss you as you lay in his bed, his hand wandering lower till he tugged at the hem of your skirt.

"I'm going to kill you one of these days," you said as you rolled over, facing him head-on. As usual, your words were curt, to the point, and spoken in a nearly monotone voice with complete seriousness. As usual, his eyes were glittering with the excitement you often sparked in him, the most bittersweet of smiles always tainting his lips.

"You've tried six times and you've been unsuccessful thus far," he said in a teasing manner, his grin spreading.

"Well then," you said as he moved to hold himself above you, one hand planted on either side of your head as he sat between your legs, "one more try won't hurt."

"Please don't try to kill me while I'm having sex with you," he groaned.

"I don't want undead dick in me, so I thought I'd do it before or after," you said, something he apparently found amusement in.

"If you weren't the one that destroyed my alliance with Punt, I would marry you so hard," he admitted before diving in to kiss you, aligning perfectly with your lips. You tried two times to reply, but you were entirely muted, and eventually you gave in.

You hated him from the moment you met him. Was that still true, though? Did you still hate him, the man who had taken so much from you, gifting it back in the form of a physical love. His actions in the throes of passion did not suffice as an apology, so you assumed yes––you still hated him.

After all was said and done, you didn't dare to linger. Being absent more than a day from your country never boded well, though the journey back would take up the rest of the day, as the sun had risen a short time ago. You dressed yourself and bid a hasty good-bye to the Pharaoh, who asked you to stay longer.

"If I stay any longer I'm going to suffocate you," you said as you adjusted your belt.

"Have you ever stopped to think maybe I want that?" He asked, and in pure confusion you turned to him, your expression contorted. He explained further, "I've heard choking can be very good during sex."

"Shut the fuck up," you sighed, rolling your eyes as you turned back to your reflection. He just chuckled, flopping back down on the bed.

You paused for a moment––stopped dressing yourself, and instead unwillingly turned your attention to Ahkmenrah's reflection in the mirror, his curls a mess as he stared up at the ceiling. The slow rise and fall of his chest did not match the heavy blush on his cheeks. As he turned to lay on his side, you caught sight of his back, and the numerous scratch marks lining up and down it.

"Do they hurt?" You asked softly, and though you didn't realize it at the time, they were the first soft-spoken words you had shared with him.

"Do what hurt?" He asked in return, rolling back over to face you with a curious smile.

"Those marks on your back," you said, though you didn't turn to face him, instead locking eyes with him in the mirror. "I never mean to give you them."

"You don't?" He asked, quirking one of his brows. "I've always thought of them as a memento. I mean they hurt, but... most things you do hurt me."

For as right as he was, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment for your actions. You had done many things to him and around him, and by both of your accounts, none of the things you'd done had helped him in any way. Except the sex, but neither of you thought of that as your own actions. But he was handsome, and he was kind to his people. Despite the mutual hatred between you he always ensured you were alright with what he was doing in bed. It was two different versions of yourselves––the battlefield, and the home. He was a perfect lover and a ruthless King, and you never bothered to be anything but a spiteful ruler on and off the battlefield.

"Put some lavender oil on it," you said, fixing your collar. "It helps get rid of scars.

"We don't have any lavender oil ever since you cut off our trade network," he said flatly.

"Oh," you paused, "right."

You took one more moment to watch him through his reflection before you took a deep breath.

"I have to leave now. Try not to get into any trouble, or start any, before I get home," you said.

"When will I see you next?" He asked, his cheek squished into the mattress.

"Probably when you wake up at midnight with a knife above your head."

He laughed, but before he could properly respond, you left out the door with your veil concealing your identity. So instead he sighed, turning back to the ceiling as the image of you imprinted itself behind his eyelids. He would miss you no matter how hard he tried not to, and he knew this because every time you left him in his bedroom, emptiness replaced the warmth in his chest. Your warmth.

The moment he passed the threshold of his room, however, he fell back into his natural state––the one he held around his palace officials and citizens. The man who burnt down cities. Very rarely did he ever let this facade fall, and in the following weeks he kept up with it, only breaking it for a split second on a humid evening.

Mail had come into his study, full of letters, plans, and maps all addressed to him. Usually he went through them with his advisors and vizier, but tonight was a holy night, and many of them had asked for the day off, which he of course granted.

The last piece of mail wasn't a scroll or a letter, but instead a small package with a note inside. He frowned as he tore open the sealing, curious to see its' contents. Out fell a sturdy glass bottle, followed by a slip of paper, and the bud of a dried flower.

Get a pretty girl and have her use this on you.

Signed, your friend

He twisted the cork off the bottle. The scent inside was strong enough to reach him without him having to bring it to his nose, and instantly he recognized the source.

Lavender.

He grinned, a grin that only grew larger as he thought of what to say in return. In a flash he grabbed his own papyrus and pen, scribbling down a neat response.

Use it on me yourself, coward.

Signed, your love.

A week later the mail came into your home, and for a good while you sorted through it, though what first caught your attention was the insignia Ahkmenrah planted on each of his covert letters. A lotus. You set that aside––it was not as important as other matters, and it could wait until a little later.

When you did open it, however, you went into such a fluster that a blush coated your face for a good three days.

[thedevilsmemes]

      PINTEREST QUOTES I USE IN MY MUSINGS BOARDS                         ~ A SENTENCE MEME - PART 2

                         Change pronouns as / when needed to preferred pronoun.

“I do not do justice, I do damage. I do not do empathy, I do damage. I do not do forgiveness, I do damage. I do not do mercy, I do damage.”

“Like, you can boss me around in sexual situations but you better not try to tell me what to do in regular life.”

“I’m fine, I’ve had worse.”

“I’m meaner than my demons.”

“If I cannot bend Heaven, I will raise Hell.”

“Well, aren’t you a little ray of pitch black?”

“He was like a storm.”

“You want to play dirty? Fine, let’s play dirty!”

{ feels an emotion. } “Who the fuck authorised this?!”

“What the fuck? What the fuck is this? What the fuck?”

“Judge if you want. We are all going to die. I intend to deserve it.”

“Goddamn right you should be scared of me.”

“They wanted a monster; I decided to give them one.”

“Seduce and destroy.”

“What the fuck is intimacy? How does that work? Letting… people be close to you? What the fuck?”

“You couldn’t kill me if you tried for one hundred years.”

“I’ll do this my way.”

“I am severely emotionally unstable.”

“What, from the bottom of the heart, the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t take any orders. I barely take suggestions.”

“I send my best regards from Hell.”

“I like my coffee how I like myself: Dark, bitter and too hot for you.”

“Me and God, we don’t get along.”

“Be brave, Angel.”

“Self care is drinking three pots of coffee and getting into a knife fight with God.”

{ takes gulp of vodka straight from the bottle } “My day was fine.”

“Have I stabbed you? No. Then I am being nice.”

“Holy Shit! I’M the demon living in my house.”

“Sir, that’s my emotional support knife collection.”

“I want an ancient elaborate dagger with my name engraved into the blade as a gift. The only romantic gesture.”

“ ‘Are you a top or a bottom?’ I'm a threat!”

“Stop being so defensive! I’m just trying to hit you with weapons.”

“The more knives you have the more valid you are.”

“She’s strong but she’s exhausted.”

“She loves moonlight and rainstorms and so many other things that have soul.”

“My darling, you can’t see it can you? How like the moon you are. Both of you so timid in yourselves; hiding pieces from the world. Then, there are those rare moments when you are both full, and it becomes hard to look away. You are beautiful.”

“Calm her chaos but never silence her storm.”

“She wears strength and darkness equally well. That girl has always been half Goddess, half Hell.”

“She has been through Hell, so believe me when I say, fear her when she looks into the fire and smiles.”

“She’s proof that you can walk through Hell and still be an angel.”

“She is both hellfire and holy water. And the flavour you taste depends on how you treat her.”

“Even the mountains can not hold all you have been carrying.”

“Storm with skin.”

“She’s thunderstorms”

“Kindness is a language that the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”

“Sometimes it takes only one act of kindness and caring to change a person’s life.”

“You have a heart of gold.”

“Butterflies are the Heaven-sent kisses of an angel.”

“She who is brave is free.”

“Clever as the Devil and twice as pretty.”

“Shut up. I wear heels bigger than your dick.”

“Girls who run in heels should be feared.”

“Family is everything to me.”

“She’s an old soul that believes in chivalry, romance, and love.”

“I hate getting flashbacks from things I don’t want to remember.”

“I run on coffee and grace.”

“I’m glad I’ve got boobs… the last thing I need is people making eye contact with me.”

“Tell me to put on my big girl panties one more time… and I’ll take off my thong and strangle you with it!”

“Please read all my posts in a sarcastic tone. You know, for full effect.”

“I have one nerve left and you’re dry-humping it, go away.”

“If I offend you, cry me a river. I’ll bring snacks and a raft. I will literally float down your tears, eating chips and working on my tan.”

“When she is happy, she can’t stop talking. When she is sad, she doesn’t say a word.”

“Music becomes my best friend when nobody else understands me.”

“Act like a lady, think like a boss.”

“I know I have friends but I feel I have no one to talk to about the shit that goes on in my head.”

“She was special. She combined a mean angel and a kind devil.”

“So much pain for someone so young.”

“She’s one of a kind.”

“Red lips and wine sips.”

“Brave girl, it’s time to love again.”

“She is intelligent.”

“Sometimes, when I say ‘I’m okay.’ I want someone to look me in the eyes, hug me tight, and say, ‘I know you’re not.’ ”

“Because I’m not the kind of girl guys fall in love with.”

“I fear I will spend my life, waiting for a love story that doesn’t exist.”

“You’re a woman, use it; bring every man you meet to his motherfucking knees.”

“She denies it but, the truth is, she’s falling in love with him.”

“Hearing your heels click on the floor sounds like power.”

“She loves deeply, regardless of the love she gets back in return and it’s both her biggest strength and biggest weakness…”

“Experience raised her. Hurt taught her. Neither defined her.”

“She was not fragile like a flower was, she was fragile like a bomb.”

“Life is short; make every hair flip count.”

“I’ve always been someone who looks ‘too deep’ into something or someone. That’s because I realised from a young age that there’s always more than what meets the eye.”

“If I say ‘first of all’ Run away because I have prepared research, data, charts, and will destroy you.”

“Underestimate me, that’ll be fun.”

“You think I’m sarcastic? You should hear what I don’t say!”

“She’s a combination of sensitive and savage.”

“Stay classy, sassy and a bit bad assy.”

“She’s battling things her smile will never tell you about.”

 “Ain't you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch?”

“I was told I was dangerous… I asked why? They said ‘because you don’t need anyone.’ That’s when I smiled.”

“She’s been through hell and came out an angel. You didn’t break her darling, you don’t own that kind of power.”

“Watch me. I will go to my own sun and, if I am burned by the flames, I will fly on scorched wings.”

“Her messy hair is a visible attribute to her stubborn spirit. As she shakes it free, she smiles, knowing wild is her favourite colour.”

“She’s strong. But in the back of her mind she doesn’t think that she was meant to be this strong for this long. And she wonders if there is a man out there, somewhere, who understands this.”

“She’s not for everyone and she knows it. People find her different and strange. She dances in the rain, she laughs when she cries and loves through her pain. People fear the unknown and they never knew a girl like her.”

“Don’t tell a girl with fire in her veins and hurricane bones what she should and shouldn’t do. In the blink of an eye, she will shatter that ridiculous cage you attempt to build around her beautiful bohemian spirit.”

“You provoke her until she roars and then get upset at her for becoming the monster you created.”

“Rip out his ego with your fresh nails.”

“She isn’t the sunrise; she’s the fucking sun.”

“You can’t touch a woman who can wear pain like the grandest of diamonds around her neck.”

“Watch your tongue around her. She will bear her fangs and tear you apart with all the grace of a Queen.” 

“If you won’t embrace her madness, then you’ll never taste her magic.”

“Beauty may be dangerous but intelligence is lethal.”

“She is water. Powerful enough to drown you, soft enough to cleanse you, deep enough to save you.”

“Heavy is the crown and yet she wears it as if it were a feather. There is strength in her heart, determination in her eyes and the will to survive resides within her soul.”

“I wish that I could say that I am a light that never goes out, but I flicker from time to time.”

“Spoil me with loyalty. I can finance myself.”

“Shoutout to all the people with brown hair and brown eyes! We basic as fuck but we cute!”

“I feel a nap coming on.”

“Is horny an emotion?”

“I just really like thigh-highs.”

“Even though she looks innocent, she is really a perverted demon.”

“She didn’t sob or wail. Her pain was horribly discreet but as persistent and almost as silent as bleeding from an unstitched wound.”

“I don’t rise from the ashes, I make them. I’m the whole fucking fire.”

“Beautiful but destructive.”

“I’m aiming for the ‘she’s a badass and cute as hell but I wouldn’t touch her without asking’ look.”

“Loving me must be so fucking hard and I’m so sorry.”

“Some women are lost in the fire. Some women are built from it.”

“You glow differently when you’re actually happy.”

“She’s magic, that one.”

“Kicked out of Hell.”

“Red hair: the crown you never take off.”

“You’ve got a fire inside.”

“She doesn’t need a warrior, she is one. What she needs is a devout heart, and strong arms to hold her after her battles are won.”

“You are the love that came without warning: You had my heart before I could say no.”

“You want battle? I’ll give you war.”

“True evil is, above all things, seductive.”

“The Devil’s got nothing on me, my friend.”

“Haven’t I fallen far enough?”

“I’m not like them, but I can pretend.”

“I don’t like being told what to do.”

“Now I grow wings and rage, and learn how to kill.”

“Life is tough, my darling, but so are you.”

“Though she be little, she be fierce.”

“I know what this is; It’s just myself, talking to myself, about myself.”

“You underestimate my power.”

[whenisitenoughtrees]

to be honest, capable (of holding you) (part 3/3)

He walks forward, crouching over the snake, and when it doesn’t stir at all, he works up his courage and pokes it, just a little. Its scales are warm and smooth under his fingertip, and he resists the urge to stroke them. He doubts he could get away with that.

“Janus?” he asks, trying to keep the somewhat hysterical laughter from his voice. “That you?”

Thomas didn’t know that Janus could turn into an actual snake, but he’s glad to hang out with him regardless. More than glad; ecstatic, even, because he’s been trying to figure out how to befriend him for ages, and this seems like a good first step. What he can’t figure out is why human-Janus is being so weird about it.

(Alternatively: Janus doesn’t trust easily. He wishes he could stop trusting Thomas— it would be so much less terrifying.)

Chapter Warnings: swearing

Chapter Word Count: 6,292

Pairing: platonic Thomceit

(part 1) (part 2)

(masterpost w/ ao3 links)

They still don’t talk about it. Thomas is beginning to suspect that this is causing a lot more problems than it solves. And by now, enough time has passed that it almost feels wrong to address it, any of it, feels like it’s too late, like he’s let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

So, he decides to try a different approach.

“Really?” Logan asks, raising an eyebrow. He appears entirely unimpressed, like a teacher about to explain for the millionth time that he’s not going to give out the answers to the homework.

“Yes, really,” Thomas says. “I just can’t figure him out, and I thought maybe you could help me with that.”

Logan sighs, taking a seat across from him at the dining table. He clasps his hands in front of him, folding his fingers delicately. “Very well,” he says, “if only because the matter will continue to distract you if you don’t resolve it sufficiently. Where would you like to begin?”

He frowns, tilting his chair back until the two front legs lift off the floor. “I don’t really know,” he says. “I guess I just want to know why he acts the way he does. ‘Cause he seems to have no problem approaching me as a snake, but he’s so standoffish as a human, and I can never figure out exactly what he wants from me, like, ever. He’s just… confusing, and I don’t know what to do about it, or how to talk to him.”

Logan inclines his head. “In that case, it may be prudent to reflect on how this conundrum began in the first place,” he prompts, and Thomas thinks on it, casts his mind back to that day, and the snake in the sunshine.

“That’s the first question,” he agrees. “He started coming up here for the sun, right? To be warm?”

“It is rather fascinating that he possesses so many traits of a creature that is truly cold-blooded,” Logan says. He leans forward. “It does seem to me that acquiring warmth was a primary motivation for him, at least at first. However, there is another question to be considered, which is that of why he felt the need to do so here, rather than anywhere in the mindscape. Though it is true that there are some circumstances in which it is difficult to find a simulation of sunlight, such as when the twins insist on rainy weather in the Imagination, it is by no means impossible, and he should have the capability to summon a heat source for himself. A heat lamp, for instance.”

“But instead he came up here,” he says slowly. “So, you’re saying he wanted to be here. That he wanted to be… what, near me?” The idea sounds preposterous, though all the evidence points to it being the correct conclusion. Because if Janus didn’t want to, he wouldn’t. It’s that simple.

Logan nods. “Remember, the first time he was faced with a lack of warmth both inside the mindscape and out, he immediately accepted your offer of sharing body heat. Somehow, I find it difficult to believe that he would have behaved in such a manner if no part of his motivation involved being close to you, in some way.”

“Okay, maybe,” he says. “But I still don’t get why he’s doing it like this. He always seems so embarrassed when I try to bring it up to him, like he doesn’t want to talk about it at all.”

“Oh, come on, Thomas,” Virgil says. “You can’t possibly be that oblivious.”

Thomas starts violently, a yelp escaping his throat. He nearly overbalances, nearly sends himself and the chair crashing to the floor, but he corrects himself in time, clutching at his chest as he wrests his heart rate back down to something approaching normal levels.

“Holy smokes, Virge,” he says. “A little warning, next time?”

From where he is perched on the chair between them, Virgil shrugs, looking vaguely apologetic.

“Ah, Virgil,” Logan says. “I was wondering when you were going to arrive.”

Virgil rolls his eyes. “Sorry I’m late,” he snipes, not sounding sorry at all. “I was just making sure that, you know, Janus wasn’t listening to you guys talking about him behind his back. You can’t honestly think he’d be happy that you guys are having this conversation, can you?” Thomas blinks, and Virgil must sense his sudden increase in nerves, because he shakes his head. “He’s busy with Remus right now, so you don’t actually have to worry about it yet, but a little bit of caution wouldn’t kill you.”

He sounds annoyed, but not overly angry, so Thomas relaxes a bit. “Right,” he says, “sorry, Virgil. Wasn’t really thinking about that.” He pauses. “I have been wondering where you’ve been, actually. I really thought that you’d, uh, have a little bit more to say about the whole letting-Janus-basically-cuddle-with-me thing. But you’ve been kinda quiet.”

Virgil exchanges a glance with Logan, shifting in place. “Yeah, uh, you’ve got Logan to thank for that,” he says. “Look, I don’t like the guy. I probably never will. But—” He pauses, hunching his shoulders— “even I’ve got to admit that he’s not gonna hurt you, so honestly? I have a lot more problems with the things he says and tries to get you to do than the, uh. Whatever the hell this has been.”

He gestures broadly, leaning back. Despite his typical disaffected tone, there is an odd gravity to his words, and Thomas knows that there’s something he isn’t saying. But he won’t press the issue; not yet anyway. Virgil is entitled to his secrets, and though he has long speculated on what, exactly, his relationship to Janus is and was, he is content to leave it alone for now.

“Fair enough,” he says. “So, what do you mean about me being oblivious?”

Virgil raises an eyebrow. “Really? You can’t figure it out?” he asks. “Janus is the embodiment of lies and deceit, Thomas. He’s the opposite of trustworthiness.” Thomas opens his mouth to interject, since he really doesn’t see how this is relevant, or even remotely helpful, but Virgil holds up a finger, forestalling him. “And I’m not just saying that in the context of him not being trustworthy. Which he’s not, by the way, just to make that clear.”

“Yeah, no, I know exactly where you stand on this,” he mutters, and Virgil glares at him. “Sorry, sorry, please continue.”

“All I’m trying to say is that he’s got some fucking trust issues, alright?” Virgil snaps. “He’s—” He breaks off, looking away and reddening slightly. He seems to struggle with himself briefly, his face twisting into some undefinable expression: a heavy reluctance, mixed with something Thomas can’t put a name to. “He’s kinda like me, in that way. You remember how long it took me to believe you when you started telling me you actually wanted me around?”

Guilt floods him, then, the memories of how he used to treat Virgil rushing back. These past couple of years have been good, so much so that he rarely thinks back on where they started. He knows Virgil so well that it is easy to forget that he feared him, once, pushed him down and tried to ignore him rather than working with him or trying to help him.

“Virgil—”

“No, listen.” His words come insistently, once again verging on frustration, so Thomas shuts up. “I’m not saying that to make you feel guilty, or whatever. We’re past that now. We’re good. And god knows I fucking hate comparing myself to him in literally any way. But what I’m trying to say is that being a, a ‘dark side’ or whatever you want to call them, it’s not exactly conducive to believing that you care, or that you value our opinions. So even though you’ve accepted him, and you’ve started actively listening to his contributions, he probably doesn’t trust you not to, like, reverse positions, or some shit like that.”

“But Thomas hasn’t shown any desire to do so,” Logan interjects, “nor any indication that his stance will change in the future.”

“Maybe,” Virgil returns, “but Janus is self-preservation, not logic. He likes to pretend that he’s all cool and confident and rational, but he’s not. So he’s gonna act out of self-defense, no matter how stupid a move that might be.”

“You’re saying he thinks I might hurt him,” Thomas says. A strange sort of horrified numbness settles into his chest at the very thought, because that is the last thing he wants. It has always been the last thing he wants. And now, so much time has passed, and they haven’t addressed it at all, and maybe it really is too late. Because Virgil is right; it only makes sense that Deceit himself would be hesitant to trust, and he’s not sure there’s anything he can say or do to convince him otherwise. If he doesn’t trust him at this point, who’s to say he’ll ever trust him at all?

Would he be right not to?

“I’m saying he’s scared you might hurt him,” Virgil says bluntly, breaking him from his thoughts, and that’s even worse. He finds it hard to picture Janus being scared, but Janus lies as easily as breathing. What’s one more emotion to mask?

He doesn’t want Janus to be scared of him.

“I’m not sure how much sense that makes,” Logan says. “If Janus truly has the trust issues that you are describing, it wouldn’t be rational for him to seek out Thomas as much as he has. If he fears being hurt, it would be more logical to stay away, rather than actively searching for his company.”

Virgil shrugs. “Exactly.”

There is a beat of silence. Thomas looks at Logan, and has the gratification of seeing that he appears as confused as he feels.

“What?” Logan asks.

“Oh my god,” Virgil says. “Do I have to be the one to spell this out? Janus has trust issues, yeah? He’s afraid of getting close to you, because he thinks you might hurt him. But he’s been spending time with you anyway. What does that tell you?”

He furrows his brow, trying to sort through the words. There is something there, a conclusion that Virgil is attempting to lead him, to, but it’s not quite—

Oh. Wait.

“That doesn’t follow,” Logan says. “You’re saying he doesn’t trust Thomas, but now you’re trying to imply that he does?”

Virgil shrugs again, this time looking remarkably self-satisfied, a smug smile forming on his lips. “I guess,” he says. “I’m not saying it has to make sense. Trust… isn’t always based on logic. Sometimes it’s just emotions, or even just a gut feeling. Intuition. And like I said, Janus pretends not to be emotional, but at heart, he’s just as much of a dramatic theater kid as Roman is, if that tells you anything. He’ll be snarky and prickly and dickish all day long, but just because he pushes you away doesn’t mean that’s actually what he wants.”

His voice lowers at the end, becoming something soft and bitter and laced with experience. Thomas exchanges another glance with Logan, but once again decides not to force the issue. Virgil will come to him when he’s ready and not a moment before.

“So, you think that he does trust me, on some level at least,” he says, working through the information as he goes. “But not enough to approach me openly, or to talk to me about it, so maybe he doesn’t trust me not to take advantage of that trust? Or maybe he doesn’t trust me to trust him, or maybe he doesn’t trust me not to reject his trust.” He pauses, considering. “Hey, do you ever say a word so many times that it starts to lose its meaning? Trust. Trust, trust, trust. Truuuust. See? Gibberish.”

Logan exhales through his nose, sharp and pointed. “Focus, Thomas,” he says wearily, and Thomas forcibly brings his head back down to earth. “Have you come to a conclusion as to what your next step should be?”

Thomas looks at him, and then looks at Virgil. They are both staring at him, twin expressions of expectation on their faces, and his heart warms to see them like this, working together so easily, united in their purposes. Logic and Anxiety, Logan and Virgil. They really do make a good team. He doesn’t know where he would be without them.

He hopes they know that.

“Yeah, I have,” he says, and laughs. “I guess I should’ve been doing it all along. I need to talk to him.”

Logan’s face relaxes, and he nods. “There you have it,” he says. “Working through this with us is fine and good, but you’ll never be satisfied until you can figuratively ‘clear the air’ with him.” He unfolds his hands, bracing them against the table as he stands, his chair scraping against the floor as he pushes it back. “If that is all you need from me, I believe I will be on my way.”

Thomas smiles at him, helpless to do anything but. He really does love his sides. “Sure thing,” he says. “Thanks a lot, Logan.”

Logan sinks out, but Thomas is sure that a matching smile plays about his lips.

And then, he looks to Virgil, still crouched in the other chair, shoulders hunched and fingers fiddling with the sleeves of his hoodie. His brow is creased, his eyes narrow, and it is a far cry from the open posture of moments before.

“You good?” he asks, and then stops to reconsider. Virgil is rarely completely good, so to speak, and clearly, there is something else on his mind now. “With all of this, I mean,” he clarifies. “I know you said that you were okay with me and Janus hanging out, but I know that there’s some kind of past between the two of you, and I. Uh. I mean, I want all of you to be happy, and that includes Janus, but that includes you, too. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable if there’s anything I can do to help with that.”

Virgil sighs, gaze shifting to meet his eyes. He looks tired all of a sudden, drained.

“I’ve been thinking about this a lot, lately,” he admits. “And yeah, when he first showed up and started doing this? I was freaked. I’m sure you felt that. Logan’s had to talk me down a lot. But I—” He hesitates, sucking in a deep breath. “I’ve realized something recently, and that’s the fact that a lot of my problems with Janus are pretty personal. Not all of them, but more than I really thought. And I don’t think it’s fair to you to push my view of him onto you when really, I’ve just been projecting my own feelings.” He shakes his head ruefully. “My private issues with him don’t necessarily mean that he never makes any good points. Maybe if I hadn’t been so against hearing him out in the first place, we could’ve avoided a lot of bullshit. So, I’m sorry. From here on out, I’m gonna try to be better about that.”

Thomas blinks. And then blinks again. He feels as though a weight has been lifted from his chest, a weight that he didn’t know was there at all. It’s only now that it’s gone that he realizes how worried he has been about this, about Virgil and Janus and the relationship between them and how he is supposed to keep them both close when their enmity is so strong.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, wow, uh. That’s really good to hear.” His words stumble over each other, but the smile that softens his tone is completely genuine, and he hopes that Virgil picks up on that. “I’m proud of you.”

Virgil jerks, his eyes widening. Under his foundation, his cheeks flush red.

“Cool,” he says. “Um, thanks. Whatever.” He salutes, his typical two-fingered motion landing just shy of casual, and he sinks out from the chair, leaving Thomas alone at the table.

Well. Not truly alone. When is he ever? Just because he can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t present, doesn’t make them any less a part of him.

He breathes deeply, in and out, and feels more balanced than he has for a long time.

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

He gives it a day. A day to rest, a day to formulate a vague plan of how to go about this, of what to say. Though he now feels secure in this course of action, knows that this conversation needs to happen, he is still nervous about stepping wrongly. Janus has a temper, and more defenses than a temple from Indiana Jones, and if this meeting goes off the rails, he isn’t sure how to salvage it. Better to try to keep it running smoothly from the very beginning.

He wishes he were more confident in his ability to do that.

He sits on the couch, tries to get comfortable. His heart is beating quickly, though just as much from anticipation as from nervousness. He inhales deeply, and then stretches out his arm, motioning like he’s trying to raise someone from the floor.

“Janus?” he calls out, and stops to wait.

And then, he is there, stepping smoothly from the shadows. It’s totally unlike the way the others rise up, but it’s not like how Virgil does it, either. Virgil appears suddenly, like every jump scare in every horror movie, quick and forceful and undeniable. But Janus strides forward as if he was there all along, and something in Thomas’ mind insists that he was, that he has been there this whole time, even though he knows very well that he only just arrived.

“Thomas,” he says, voice level and collected. Looking at him now, it is difficult to believe that he was ever injured, that Thomas has seen him bleeding and shaking, that Thomas has felt him cling to him in his sleep. He appears nothing less than completely put together, gloves immaculate and hat perfectly balanced, and just for a moment, Thomas loses his nerve.

But just for a moment, and that is all.

“Hey, Janus,” he says, projecting as much confidence as he can muster. “Do you have a minute?”

Janus lifts an eyebrow, and the set of his eyes shifts, just slightly. He wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t watching, but there is a flash of— something. Dread, perhaps, though he can’t be sure, and whatever it is, it doesn’t show in his voice.

“I suppose,” he says, somehow managing to sound both agreeable and incredibly put upon, “though I am terribly busy, you know. I can’t imagine why you would assume I’d make time for you.”

As always, it takes mental gymnastics to figure out which parts he means and which parts are sarcasm, but Thomas tries not to dwell too much. He pats the couch next to him, gesturing for him to sit, and after a second of hesitation, Janus does, sinking into the cushion with a fluid, graceful motion, crossing one leg over the other. For all the world, he appears completely at ease, but Thomas isn’t convinced that’s the case. There is something in the tilt of his head, the tension in his hands, that suggests discomfort.

He hopes it’s just discomfort, and not anything stronger than that.

“Okay, well,” he says. “I’m glad you could.” He pauses, trying to figure out if there’s a delicate way to start this, but he thinks that Janus would see right through any attempt at prevarication on his part. So he soldiers ahead, bracing for the fallout, whatever that may be. “I’d like to talk to you about the snake thing that you do.”

Janus blinks, lifting his chin slightly, and Thomas can’t help but wonder if it’s a conscious decision for him. Blinking, that is. Snakes don’t blink, after all, so does that translate to his human form? Does he choose to blink? Does he have to think about it?

“I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific than that,” Janus says coolly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m at least partially a snake at all times, so you’ll have to tell me which ‘snake thing,’ exactly, you’re referring to.”

He sighs. “I think you know,” he says.

Janus’ shoulders stiffen minutely.

“And what about it?” he asks. “I don’t see what there is to discuss. Unless this is you asking me to stop.”

He sounds defensive, far more so than Thomas would like him to be so early in the conversation, and he struggles to quash his alarm.

“No, I’m not asking you to stop. Definitely not,” he says, meeting Janus’ eyes squarely. “I’m happy to spend time with you, Janus. And if you’re a snake during that time, then that’s completely fine. But I wanted to ask you why, I guess.” He hesitates, but Janus doesn’t interrupt, just continues to study him with wary eyes. “I mean, at first I just thought you wanted to get warm. And that’s cool! I’m one hundred percent cool with that! But the thing is, I’m pretty sure that there are other ways you could do that, if you wanted. So, I wanted to see if maybe there was another reason.”

Janus looks away at that, a scowl twisting his lips.

“Snakes are cold-blooded,” he says, his words short and clipped. “You’re a convenient source of heat, that’s all.”

Thomas has never been so sure that Janus is lying in all his life.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m not gonna push you to tell me. Not if you don’t want to. But if you do want to, you can. I really would like to know.”

And because the moment seems to call for it, he gently reaches out and places a hand on Janus’ arm. Janus’ eyes widen, and he tenses, but makes no move to pull away, so after a moment of indecision, wondering whether this touch is welcome or not, Thomas maintains the contact. After a second or two, Janus turns his head toward him again, eyes flitting back and forth between his hand and his face, and his expression is unreadable, but Thomas is fairly sure that some kind of emotion is trying to make itself known, though he can’t be sure exactly what it is. Shock, perhaps, but he doesn’t think he’s said anything too shocking, unless—

He remembers that day, Janus bleeding all over his bathroom sink, and the fading look of surprise on his face when Thomas told him that he wanted to take care of him.

And he wonders: does Janus know he can have this?

He tries to recall whether he’s ever touched Janus as a human. Besides that one incident, he doesn’t think he has. Even when he placed Janus in his own bed and sat next to him, he put distance between them, a gap that was only closed after they both fell asleep. And in the morning, Janus was gone, almost as if he was fleeing the scene, and Thomas thought it was because he was embarrassed, but what if that’s not all of it?

What if he was worried about how Thomas would react?

“Janus,” he says slowly, “you do know that I enjoy your company, right? And not just when you’re a snake. When you’re human-shaped, too.”

“Of course,” Janus says, but it’s too quick, too shaky for Thomas to even begin to believe him.

“I’m serious,” he presses. “Is that… is that why you only hang out with me when you’re a snake? Did you think I wouldn’t want to otherwise?”

Janus glances away again. “Right, because you’d definitely understand,” he mutters, and Thomas makes a negating gesture with his free hand.

“Then why don’t you help me understand?” he asks, somewhat desperately.

Janus stays quiet for a long minute, and as the silence stretches on, he fears that he’s messed it all up, somehow, that he had this one chance to connect and he blew it, made a mistake somewhere without realizing, and Janus is about to reject him and sink out and he will never have this opportunity again—

“You do realize what you’re asking of me?” Janus says softly. He still doesn’t look at Thomas. Thomas wishes he would. “An honest conversation isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

“That’s okay,” Thomas says, and Janus closes his eyes and nods. Once, sharply, almost as if to himself.

“It is about warmth,” he says. “At least partially. I’m not sure why your mind decided to assign me scientifically accurate snake traits, but—” He shrugs— “I’m more than used to it by now. I… never really needed to come up here, though. I have heating lamps of my own, and if that doesn’t suit, I can usually find a warm spot in the Imagination. But, that first day, the mindscape seemed so crowded, like I couldn’t find a moment’s peace. So I decided to try up here instead. I told myself that if you spotted me, I would leave.”

“But I did,” Thomas says. “And you didn’t.”

“I was dozing. You caught me off guard, and then… to be frank, I didn’t expect you to let me stay,” Janus admits, and Thomas feels a pang at the confirmation. “But then you did, so I kept doing it, and it became a routine.”

He nods. So far, there have been no surprises. He remembers all of this very well.

“And then there was that rainy day,” he prompts, and Janus winces slightly, his eyes sliding back open, staring out into the living room, unfocused.

“Yes,” he agrees, whisper-soft, and Thomas leans forward to hear him better. “I knew it was foolish of me to stay here when I could have just as easily gone to my room and been warm there. But I didn’t want to.”

The last sentence carries the weight of a confession.

“Why is that?” Thomas asks. He barely dares to let the words pass his lips. Even now, when Janus is clearly trying to open up to him, he is still scared of saying the wrong thing, of making him clam up again, pull away.

Slowly, Janus uncrosses his legs, letting his hands splay out against his legs. For a moment, Thomas’ eyes are drawn to the contrast, yellow on black.

“I—” Janus pauses, his expression pinched. He shakes his head. “In the mindscape, it’s somewhat difficult to ensure a moment of solitude. It’s quieter up here, and even besides, that, I—” He cuts off suddenly, a violent shiver running through him, so intense that it almost seems like a convulsion.

“You?” Thomas prompts, trying not to show his worry. But Janus refuses to reply, and as Thomas watches, he slowly brings a hand up to cover his own mouth, an unsettling parody of when he silenced the others. And something in Thomas’ heart breaks to see it, to see this, to see the way Janus retreats into himself, the way he presses his hand against his face as if trying to hold back a flood.

The posture reminds him of something. The posture reminds him of Virgil. Of Virgil, anxious and afraid of judgment, and Thomas never really expected that from Janus, but he remembers thinking, way back when this first started, about how Janus and Virgil are alike. And that thought gives him the courage to continue, because he knows how to get through to Virgil when he gets lost in his head, so maybe he can get through to Janus, too.

So, he reaches out. One hand still rests on Janus’ arm, but he gently curls the other around Janus’ wrist, though he doesn’t try to pull his hand from his face, not yet.

“You don’t need to do that,” he says. “You can tell me. I swear, I won’t betray your trust.”

Janus’ face spasms, and gently, Thomas guides the hand down from his jaw. The skin around his mouth is red from the force of his grip, except for where the scales glitter, and his lips are drawn into a thin line, pressed together tightly. But there is something shining in his eyes, something that Thomas can’t interpret.

“Won’t you?” Janus asks. It should be a challenge, but it isn’t, not quite, because it’s not nearly aggressive enough for that, not nearly as aggressive as it was probably intended to be. There is a quietness in the words, a sort of defeat, and all of that is mixed with an odd desperation, like Janus thinks he knows the answer but wants to hear it anyway. “You hardly have a reason not to.”

Thomas is beginning to wonder if they’re having the same conversation here.

“No,” he says. “I know this isn’t easy for you. But I do have a reason not to, and that reason is that I care about you.” He wants to scrub a hand down his face, to let a bit of his frustration show, but doing so would mean letting go of Janus, either his arm or his hand, and he doesn’t want to do that yet. “Look, I get that trust is hard. And I’m not asking for anything that I haven’t earned. But what I do earn, I’m not going to abuse. I promise you, Janus.”

Janus shudders at the sound of his name.

“Can you promise that?” he asks.

And Thomas does the only thing he can think to do and draws him in for a hug.

“Yes,” he says, resting his chin on Janus’ shoulder. “Yes, I can promise that.”

Janus freezes up, and for a moment, it’s like hugging a stone statue. But Thomas holds him close, so close that he can feel his heartbeat beneath all his layers, beating rabbit-quick and scared, and he doesn’t let him go, and incrementally slowly, Janus melts into his embrace, inch by inch, as if he’s fighting it, fighting himself.

“It’s about safety,” he murmurs, and Thomas has to strain to hear him. “I feel safe, with you.”

“I’m glad,” he replies, and hopes that Janus can hear just how much he means it. “I’m really glad. But why do you feel like you have to hide that?”

Janus doesn’t answer, but Thomas thinks he can guess. Virgil’s voice still rings in his ears, reminding him of how long he’s pushed the dark sides away, how long it has taken for him to acknowledge them as parts of him at all, much less important parts, parts deserving of respect in their own right. Really, what reason does Janus have to assume that Thomas won’t hurt him, won’t shove him to the side, back down into the dark? Why would Janus discard his caution in favor of trust when it has taken so very long for Thomas to be receptive to him at all?

Janus conceals so much, all the time. It’s a part of his function. So how can Thomas possibly expect him to admit what he truly wants?

“It frightens me,” Janus whispers suddenly, and Thomas pulls his attention back to the present, startled. “I never allow myself to trust anyone, and yet… I want to be close to you. I always have, I suppose, but I never really expected it to be possible. I never expected it to be a problem—”

“Whoa, hey, no,” Thomas says, because he definitely needs to cut off that line of thinking right away. He pulls away from Janus, gripping him by both shoulders and holding him in front of him so he can make eye contact. “Your feelings aren’t a problem. You feeling safe isn’t a problem, and it never will be, you hear? The only thing that’s a problem is that I refused to accept you for so long, and I’m trying to fix that now. But that’s not your fault.”

He takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. When he speaks again, he keeps his voice low and measured and as sincere as possible, and he doesn’t take his eyes off of Janus’ face.

“I know we don’t know each other that well,” he says. “I know there’s a lot about you that I don’t understand. But I’ve really liked spending time with you these past couple months, and not because you’re a snake. You don’t need to be a snake to spend time with me. You’re not intruding, or, or bothering me, or whatever. I want to hang out with you, no matter what shape you’re in.” He smiles wryly. “Really, the only reason I didn’t say so sooner was because I wasn’t sure what was going on, or if maybe you actually didn’t want to be around when you’re, uh, human-shaped. But, Janus, I really mean it. I want to get to know you better. I want to be friends. There’s no conditions attached to that.”

He pauses.

“You’re always welcome to be close to me,” he says. “Always.”

They stay like that for a moment, like time has frozen around them, frozen this moment, and Thomas scarcely dares to breathe. Either this was the right thing to say, or it wasn’t, and he can only hope for the former and not the latter, because there is no taking it back. He’s spoken his mind and his heart with nothing less than complete sincerity, and he couldn’t renege on that even if he wanted to.

Janus makes a choked noise, and then, with one gloved hand, reaches out and snags Thomas’ shirt. And he pulls himself close, tucking himself against Thomas’ chest, burying his face into his shirt. His hat slides off his head and to the ground, but he doesn’t seem to notice, or care if he does. His shoulders are shaking, and Thomas can feel the growing dampness of the fabric against his skin, but he doesn’t say anything, because he’s said all that needs to be said. He knows it, and he thinks that Janus knows it, and he hopes that now, Janus will finally, finally be able to believe him.

So Thomas just wraps his arms around him, and holds him steady.

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

It’s movie night. It’s movie night, and Thomas is feeling good, great, even, because there are no pressing deadlines or moral crises, and he’s making popcorn in the kitchen, a soft blanket draped over his shoulders while he listens to everyone affably bicker in the living room. And that’s what it is: bickering, not arguing, not fighting. Roman is advocating for Disney, surprise surprise, while Virgil is groaning about how “that’s literally all you ever want to watch,” and Patton is chiming in with a desire to watch something with animals, anything really, he’s not all that picky, and Thomas can’t help but smile as he walks in to join them.

Logan is the only one not particularly invested in the conversation, and he greets him with a nod. Thomas hands him the popcorn bowl, trusting him not to make a mess of it, and settles against his side. The others pile in in short order, Patton on the floor and leaning against his legs, Virgil tucked into his other side, and Roman dramatically splaying himself out along the rest of the couch and putting his head in Virgil’s lap.

Remus is here too, behind the couch. Thomas has told him that he’s free to join in if he puts some clothes on, and though Remus swiftly turned him down, there was an odd gleam in his eye that told Thomas to expect a change in the future.

“Was Janus going to join us?” Logan asks, voice barely audible over the sound of the others’ discussion, which has continued uninterrupted, entirely too intense for something as simple as picking a movie to watch.

Thomas grins at him, and lifts the blanket so he can see Janus, draped across his shoulders. Janus lifts his head and flickers his tongue out at Logan, but makes no move to leave or hide. Virgil glances over briefly and frowns, but doesn’t comment, giving Thomas a short nod.

“The Lion King it is!” Roman bursts out, and Thomas settles in.

They watch The Lion King, and when that’s done, Virgil insists on Hocus Pocus, and it’s getting late after that, but Patton quietly asks for Princess and the Frog, and even though Thomas can tell that everyone is close to nodding off, he puts the disk in and lets it play. His own eyelids are drooping before Tiana even meets Naveen, and he is close to falling asleep before Janus begins to shift in place, rousing him a bit.

And suddenly, Janus is in his lap, human-shaped, snuggling up against his chest with a sigh of contentment. Thomas adjusts automatically, shuffling so that everyone can stay comfortable. Virgil mutters something along the lines of, “Get your damn snaky elbow out of my face,” but his sleepiness undercuts any venom the words might have.

“You good, buddy?” Thomas murmurs, too tired to say much of anything else.

Janus hums, taking off his hat and casting it to the ground before tucking his head under Thomas’ chin.

“Shhhhut up and go to ssssleep,” he slurs, and Thomas smiles.

Besides the movie still playing on-screen, the living room is dark. But before Thomas closes his eyes, he thinks he sees Remus staring at him, thinks he inclines his head in… what, approval? And then he is gone, and Thomas doesn’t think too much more about it.

Because he has Janus, and he has all the rest of his sides here, gathered around him, at peace, and all is well with the world.

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

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[rint4rous]

hogwarts au! oikawa

a/n: wrote this with a bad headache LMAO so if you see mistakes no you didnt <3

yeah help

anyway

oikawa toru

sixth year slytherin

captain of slytherin quidditch team

this one. very popular with the girls.

always gets gifts and confessed to, he turns them all down nicely tho

he flirts with them a little but never goes out with anyone

thanks but no thanks, hes focusing on quidditch

mostly hangs out with hanamaki, matsukawa, and iwaizumi

you, sixth year gryffindor

a chaser for the quidditch team

actually you and oikawa had a bit of a rivalry thing going on

because oikawa was getting good grades AND is good at quidditch

and it doesnt even look like hes trying.

and he lowkey comes off as arrogant sometimes

and youre like i hate geniuses

the two of you met during first year when he tried playfully hitting iwa in the hallway but iwa dodged

and you happen to be speedwalking past and then next thing you know you get slapped???

you stop walking and turn to oikawa

hes like HOLY CRAPDFHJSHJR

“I AM SO SORRY-”

“it’s alright!”

“are you sure??”

“yeah, it was an accident, right? …. unless it wasnt?”

“NO I SWEAR IT WAS AN ACCIDENT”

“i thought so! see you ‘round!”

then you skip away

yeah. yall dont really start competing and shit until you found out your mom and his mom had BEEF??? WHEN THEY WERE IN SCHOOL????

you found that out at the end of first year

“i heard tachibana’s son is in your year. or i guess she’s oikawa now.”

youre like yeah what about it

“my dearest y/n, you’re a smart little girl, okay?”

“so make sure you’re better than that oikawa kid, alright?”

and little innocent you is like “ok”

so start of second year, you study and work extra hard

but here’s perfect little oikawa who always knocks you down to second place

at first youre like. i’ll just work harder!

and he joins quidditch and so do you

so you try hard at that too

you’re not like a sore loser or anything so when slytherin wins you shake his hand with a smile

but by the end of the year you’re just kinda :/ now because you never see him studying or practicing spells so how the fuck is he BETTER THAN YOU AT EVERYTHING!!! ITS NOT FAIR!!!!!

third year you come into school with like not very good feelings abt oikawa

and your mom was on your ass about your grades and you’re like omfggg im TRYING OKAY IM TRYING SO HARD

too bad tho thats when he starts liking you …

middle of third year is when you start expressing those feelings for oikawa out loud

“i hate self-centered geniuses. come back down to earth, will you.”

he heard you say when test results came back

and hes like is she talking abt me? lol nah shes probably talking about stupid ushijima over there

and then he finds out you were in fact talking abt him

hes kinda hurt lol

then when the new term rolls in

and the two of you just start talking shit about each other and start arguing all the time

“what’s the answer, l/n?”

“fairy wings.”

“oh my bad, i didn’t realize she said oikawa, and not l/n.”

“oh sorry, i thought you wouldn’t know the answer so i answered for you! i saved you from embarrassing yourself. you’re welcome~”

your seatmate yaku was holding you down with all his might and HOW IS LITTLE MAN ABLE TO HOLD YOU BACK HIS GRIP IS STRONG BRO

the whole class s ighs here we go AGAIN

the teacher doesnt even bother sending you guys out to hall anymore because this happens so much

you always try to sabotage each other in potions

one time his eyebrows almost burned off after his potion exploded in his face

makki and mattsun like LMFAOWFEHERGUYER

then when the year ends you’re like ranting to your mom like “i hate geniuses. who does he think he is? just because he can beat me at everything?? i’ll show him. i’ll make him eat dirt in the field. i’ll wipe that dumb smirk off his face. i’ll-”

your mom: omg my little baby so full of hate just like her momma

fourth year you’re so determined to beat oikawa at something

he sees you in the library, unprovoked, once and he comes up from behind you like

“aw, is l/n gonna try beating me again this year? you know there’s no point in trying.”

you: hold it in hold it in hold it in YOU’RE MATURE NOW Y/N L/N. YOU SHOULD BE MORE MATURE THAN THIS DIMWIT IN FRONT OF YOU. inhale exhale inhale exhale

“aw, is oikawa gonna try beating ushiwaka in quidditch again this year? you know there’s no point in trying.”

way to be mature

poor oikawa tho you pressed a wrong button so he just leaves silently

you kinda regret it after

so this year goes like the last and so does the next

“arent you tired?? of competing with oikawa all the time??” your friend semi asked you

“kind of”

“then stop?? you dont have to fulfill your mom’s high school revenge lmao”

“ughh eita i know but im too far in”

one time you were out breaking curfew #savage

no but seriously you couldn’t sleep so you thought some fresh air will help, the dorms were super suffocating right now

you were stressed after your mom’s monthly letter

beat oikawa this beat oikawa that

you turn at a corner and you see the man himself, ALSO BREAKING CURFEW

now the both of you are looking at each other like 👁👄👁

“GOD L/N I THOUGHT YOU WERE A TEACHER I NEARLY DIED FROM A HEART ATTACK”

“shush before we both get caught”

“right sorry sorry”

“so what the hell are you doing breaking curfew.”

“what are you doing breaking curfew.”

“i asked you first”

“so?”

“just answer the question, oikawa.”

he looks around, making sure the coast was clear before he motions you over to him and as you walk towards him

you see the door hes standing in front of

he drags you in there and what you see is

a bunch of practice dummies

“yeah i,, practice my spells here at night. contrary to popular belief i’m not a genius like ushiwaka or tobio. i’m flattered you think so, though.”

and youre like he... actually practices?? he is actually human?

“what’s with that look? you wanna join me practice at night?”

“as if-” and then you see the book of spells and you guys aren’t even learning any of this YET. and you are determined not to fall behind oikawa “sure.”

oikawas like pardon?

you: i SAID SURE.

and so now at night you practice spells together

only because you want to beat him as if

the arguing goes down a little because you get caught up in beating each other at who gets to do the spell right first that practice runs super late sometimes and you dont have energy to fight with each other that early

everybodys like ??? huh????

but then you’re back to the usual bs in the afternoon and everybodys like oh okay so the world isnt ending yet

so anyway !! yall are practicing again

you’re pointing your wand at a practice dummy and trying to focus so you dont accidentally do something dumb

"hey why do you hate me so much?”

LITERALLY CATCHES YOU OFF GUARD AND BREAKS YOUR FOCUS

“it’s not because i hit you when we were first years right? it really was an accident i swear-”

“you still remember that?”

“well yeah… because i cant think of any other reason why you don’t like me.”

“um… trying too hard to please my mom, i guess. what about you? why did you try so hard to beat me at everything?” you ask, regaining your focus for the charm

“idk, you never paid attention to me unless i did.”

you scoff, “why? you don’t like me or anything, do you?”

“i do tho??”

he literally said that just before you chanted the spell and you got caught off guard and

“stupefy!”

it almost hits oikawa

oikawa: WHAT DID I DO

you: SHITHEAD DONT SAY THAT WHEN IM ABOUT TO DO SOMETHFIBEFH

“HOW DID THIS EVEN HAPPEN???”

“I DONT KNOW IT WAS FUN COMPETING WITH YOU WHEN WE WERE SECOND YEARS AND IT JUST DID?? I TRIED SO HARD SO I CAN IMPRESS YOU AND I GUESS MY PLAN BACKFIRED BECAUSE I DONT THINK YOU LIKE ME VERY MUCH”

now youre staring at each other and you’re both red

he kinda quiets down “and you’re a better rival than ushijima anyway. i don’t mean any of the stuff i said, i swear. i know you don’t like me but i just needed to let that out or i will go insane.”

and hes just looking down all shy

at this point you actually dont know if you like oikawa or not

i mean??? you spent like 3 years butting heads with this dude

and he liked you the whole time?? hes crazy this man is crazy.

maybe you were just in denial the whole time

because?? you could’ve stopped competing with him at everything

maybe you did enjoy it somehow

he did make your life at school interesting

“let’s go out on a few dates and we’ll see.”

his head just whips up and his eyes like light up and hes so EXCITED

in the time before you officially started dating

you find out from iwaizumi that even tho he smiles at a lot of girls its actually rarely genuine the only girl hes ever seen oikawa smile about genuinely was you

and that his mom actually didnt approve of him playing quidditch at first because he had a bad knee but he pushed for it because he really wanted to

he has like a smug and a flippant demeanor but hes very attentive and super caring !!

hes super passionate and hard working at what he does and

i guess now you finally realize you are falling

it takes five dates until the two of you officially start going out

if you tell third year you that you were dating oikawa she would never believe it but here you are, walking to class with him

when the two of you walked in the classroom talking

like TALKING NORMALLY AND NOT THE USUAL “i will choke you in your sleep” “ooh, kinda k-” “don’t”

it was already sus when the arguing toned down a bit but now that its like. REALLY GONE?? everybody is so confused

LMFAO matsukawa asks like “what happened?? are you guys broken?”

“no???”

“how rude! dearest y/n and i are dating now!”

everybody in this class: see now thats crazy. that is crazy.

makki: maybe we didnt hear him right. say that again oikawa

oikawa: me and y/n are dating.

everybody: oh okay bc we thought you said you and l/n were dat- WAIT SO YOU AND L/N REALLY ARE TOGETHER??? 

you: unfortunately

oikawa: h-hey :((((

everybody: SO WE DONT GOTTA LISTEN TO YALL ARGUE FIRST THING IN THE MORNING??? YOU HAVE TO TREAT THE WHOLE CLASS TO BUTTERBEER I THINK WE DESERVE IT AFTER THESE THREE YEARS OF CONSTANT YELLING

nobody was as SHOCKED as your moms

“y/n, baby, i know i did not just hear you say you’re dating the oikawa kid. repeat that for momma again.”

“i’m dating the oikawa kid.”

like?? MOM THIS WAS TECHNICALLY UR FAULT

“so toru, what did you wanna tell me?”

“i have a girlfriend now! her name is y/n l/n.”

“l/n? surely not THAT l/n’s daughter, right?”

“oh it is that l/n.”

when your families have dinner together for the first time

THE TENSION LMFAO

but they do try hard to get along. they try super hard.

they start getting along because MAN YOU AND OIKAWA WERE SOO CUTE AND THEY WANT YOU TO GET MARRIED AND THEY HAVE TO GET ALONG IF THEY WANT IT TO HAPPEN. THEIR GRANDKIDS ARE GONNA BE SO CUTE!!!

“ma, we haven’t graduated yet-”

your mom, ignoring you: THEYRE GOING TO HAVE THE CUTEST HAIR

oikawa’s mom: AND THEY’RE GOING TO BE SUPER SMART LIKE THEIR PARENTS!

your mom: AND WE’LL BE THE BEST GRANDMAS.

momma oiks: PERIOD!

steals your books from you in the halls so he can carry it for you

you tease each other with pet names and shit???

he’ll try to kiss your cheek in the hall but iwa grabs the back of his robe and pulls him away “you’re gross”

“you’re just jealous iwa!!”

when your houses arent playing each other, he goes to your games and vice versa!

tries to distract you in the field

“hey beautiful”

“toru don’t or i will make iwa knock you off your broom.”

“you're so mean”

so anyways yall r couple goals

"listen well, kindaichi, kunimi, your senior is showing you how to get girls.”

kunimi, without looking up from his book: what are you gonna teach us? accidentally slap the girl and get her to hate you for three years while you secretly pine over her during that time before confessing that you liked her the whole time and you go out on five dates and officially start dating? too much work

oikawa: LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT