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seoulmatez · 3 months ago

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— 𝒷𝓇𝑒𝓌 𝒷𝑒𝑔𝒾𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈 ౨ৎ

suo hayato x reader. 1.9k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ barista!suo ﾉ college student!reader ﾉ mixed povs, mostly suo's ﾉ repost bc i accidentally deleted it (sorry! :3)

it’s a monday morning when suo first sees you walk into the cafe, early and in the thick of the morning rush. you stand out from the familiar faces of regulars precisely because you aren’t one. it’s a pleasant change from what suo has begun to expect at the start of the week—being met with a new face when the bell above the door rings, and such a pretty one, at that.

as he steams milk behind the counter, his cherry-brown eye innocently drinking you in, he wonders if he’ll see you more often.

he takes notice of when you’re nearing the front of the line and happily offers to take over the register for the time being. his coworker hands over the reins just as you make your approach to the counter while suo wipes his palms on the apron tied around his waist.

“good morning,” he greets you with a smile. “what can i get for you today?”

“hi!” you return his greeting enthusiastically as you remove your earbuds. your eyes fall to the screen of the phone held tightly in your hand. “i’ll have a cappuccino, please. for here,” you quickly add, eyes turning up to meet his, the corners of your lips curling ever so slightly to form a soft smile.

“sure thing.” suo nods as he taps at the screen in front of him to ring up your order. it’s not what he was expecting to hear but he supposes the little guessing game he plays isn’t always guaranteed to end in success. he reads off your total and runs your card before starting on your drink. it’s a fairly simple process, mostly muscle memory at this point, but suo finds himself putting in a little more thought this time around.

he isn’t sure why… maybe there's a little part of him that’s itching to impress you. maybe.

at the pick-up station, suo carefully slides the mug sitting atop a matching saucer to the other side of the counter while he calls out your order. you quickly meet him there, having set your things at a nearby table. suo knows he can’t linger for too long, not with how many other customers he has to attend to, but he sticks around long enough to tell you, “enjoy.”

when you look down, you’re met with a rosetta that was poured into the beverage. your lips stretch into a smile as you turn your gaze back to the barista before you. “thank you.”

by the time you’ve situated yourself at your table, suo is already busy with new orders. though, he can’t help but let his gaze wander back over to you.

what he sees makes his lips part in surprise: a frown painting over your features after you take a sip from your drink—the drink that he made.

—

suo is surprised to see you back a couple of days later.

he was almost sure he had all but turned you away if the unpleasant expression you wore the last he saw you was anything to go off of. but you’re back here now, on a much less busy day, and the frown that’s been at the back of suo’s mind since that day has been traded in for the soft smile he’d much rather see.

he makes his way to the register as you approach. “hey there. another cappuccino for you?”

“you remember what i ordered last time?” you don’t even remember what you ordered the last time you dropped by. in what feels like an endless sea of faces and a flood of complicated coffee orders—you glance at the man’s name tag—suo could recall that of the person who had only been here once… and that person happened to be you.

for a brief moment, you wonder if something about you was memorable enough to stick with him—perhaps it was the way you wore your hair then or the charm dangling from the zipper of your wallet. though, as quickly as the thought comes, you cast it aside. it’s far too pretentious. he must just have a—

“good memory, that’s all,” suo tells you, stealing the unspoken words right from your head. maybe he can read minds, too. “so…?”

the way his voice trails off reminds you that you never answered his initial question.

“oh! um, no, no cappuccino. i will have…” you quickly look down at your phone, eyes scanning the brightly lit screen. “an iced americano, please.”

suo smiles, mostly to himself, as he rings up your total. it’s laughable, really, how his plan to impress you failed as tremendously as it did—so much so that you’re steering clear of the drink entirely. what an ugly stain on his reputation as a barista.

he’ll redeem himself today, suo tells himself as he turns around to prepare your drink.

there aren’t many ways to mess up an americano—it’s espresso and water, easy enough. although, he supposes he thought the same of a cappuccino and that was enough to earn a visceral response from you. despite the hit to his confidence, suo navigates the appliances as he normally would and presents the glass to you at the pick-up counter.

“here you are.” there’s a sing-songy lilt to his voice as he cautiously slides the drink toward you. just like last time, he tells you, “enjoy.”

you offer suo a smile, one that makes him think it should be impossible to turn into anything else. with an equally cheery, “thank you,” you’re on your way back to the table you’ve picked out—the same one you happened to sit at during your last visit.

suo returns to his duties behind the counter—restocking inventory and wiping up messes here and there, though, his focus wanes and he finds himself glancing in your direction. as you study the notes spread out across the table, your lips wrap around the straw and the dark liquid in your glass slowly lowers with each of your sips.

your eyebrows pull together in yet another frown as you let the plastic cylinder fall from between your lips. this time around, the expression is mirrored on suo’s face.

—

suo doesn’t usually work nights but he’s here now, having been kind enough to pick up the shift of a coworker who couldn’t make it in. late evenings are nowhere near as lively as the day and that fact is becoming glaringly apparent to suo as he folds the napkins into useless shapes in order to have something to do. he’s starting to wish he had come up with some lame excuse to turn her down when his ears perk up at the sound of the bell above the door ringing. he shoves the many napkins under the counter to clean up later, ready to strike up a conversation with anyone to stave off the boredom threatening to swallow him whole.

he can’t hide the surprise that takes over his features upon seeing that the patron is you, though, he quickly masks the emotion with a grin. “welcome back.”

“hi.” you lift your hand in a lazy wave but a smile of your own tugs at your lips at seeing the barista who’s becoming a pleasantly familiar face. it almost feels manufactured—how you seem to see him every time you walk through the cafe’s door. “do they have you on call?”

the joke actually makes suo laugh—nothing like the forced ones that he makes a show of in an effort to bring home tips, but a genuine one that bubbles up in his chest and pushes its way past his lips. a smile lingers in the laughter’s wake but suo can’t say for sure whether it’s because of your jesting or the simple truth that you only hate his coffee and not him. “something like that. what’ll it be tonight?”

just as he predicts it might, your gaze drops down to your phone before your eyes pull up to meet his once more. “one medium cold brew, please.”

maybe this will be his saving grace, suo thinks. there’s no getting this wrong—the cold brew in the fridge is premade. all he has to do is pour it over some ice and serve it to you. the frozen cubes crackle as the dark liquid cascades over them, your cup filling carefully just below the rim.

he plucks a paper-wrapped straw from the holder and hands both it and your drink to you. your fingers brush against his as the glass moves from his hand to yours. suo wonders if it’s even worth saying, if the single word holds any weight at this point, but ultimately adds his typical, “enjoy,” with high hopes.

you situate yourself at what suo now considers your usual table, your laptop open with your planner, a pen, and your drink set off to the side. it’s difficult for suo to turn his attention away this time, no other customers to attend to and far from eager to go back to folding napkins. he props his elbow on the counter, rests his chin in his open palm, and not-so-subtly watches you start on your work.

a minute or so passes before you pay your drink any mind, mindlessly dipping your head down to take the first sip. suo holds his breath as he waits for your reaction and practically deflates when the all-too-familiar frown makes its way back onto your face.

“am i really that bad?” the words slip past suo’s lips before he can help it, though there’s no malice in them, only pure curiosity.

you look up from your laptop, turning to face suo. had you done something to offend him? “sorry?”

“the drinks.” he clarifies with the tip of his head in its direction. “it looks like it pains you to finish them.”

“oh. oh!” the realization hits you like a truck embarrassingly late. you never thought that suo had been watching closely enough to take notice of your involuntary reactions or that he’d make the assumption that he was the cause of your frowns. you’re overwhelmed with a sudden urgency to clear up the misunderstanding and you rush to explain. “it’s not you, i swear. in all honesty… i don’t like coffee.”

suo’s lips part in understanding and he straightens up to nod his head. your confession is enough to heal suo’s bruised ego, but it raises another question that comes as easily as his first. “why order it then?”

you gesture to the work set up at your table with a sheepish smile. “have to stay energized in some way.”

suo breathes out a laugh through his nose as he connects all of the dots—your sudden turned frequent visits, the glances at your phone, the materials scattered about, and the fact that you continued to come back despite your obvious distaste. he has to give it to you, you’re much more committed than he’d ever imagine himself to be.

“i admire your work ethic,” he tells you with a grin. for some reason, it makes your heart jump. “but, i think i can help you out with the whole ‘not liking coffee’ thing.”

you raise your eyebrows in interest. “how so?”

“it’s called a matcha latte—no coffee involved.” you can feel the passion in his voice buzzing in the air as he explains the recipe. it makes you want to reach out and grab at him so you can feel the sensation first-hand. “i’ll make one for you next time.”

“what?” you ask.

suo bites back a laugh. he knew you’d be special when he first saw you walk through the door. “you’re coming back, aren’t you?”

you nod hesitantly and then more confidently. “yeah, i’ll be back.”

whether it’s for the matcha latte or the company—well, you suppose you’ll figure that out then.

thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, pls consider reblogging or commenting ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: wind breaker #suo hayato x reader #suo x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x reader #suo fluff #windbreaker fluff #wind breaker fluff #suo drabble #windbreaker drabbles #wind breaker (satoru nii)

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thewritergremlin-rae · 6 months ago

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Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall - Who's the Most Alien of Them All?

Pairing: Loki x Reader Characters: Loki, Thor, Brock Rumlow, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Frigga, Heimdall Rating: T Words: 3229 Content: 2nd person, kidnapping, chloroform, manipulation, soulmate AU, Hydra!SHIELD at work, set during/post Avengers 1 Summary: You'd never thought there was anything strange about your soulmate in the mirror, apart from how handsome he was, but as fate would have it - he's trying to invade New York. Ao3: HERE Notes: I am an absolute sucker for Soulmate AUs so here we are! I'm thinking of using this same AU for some others (Bucky and Steve) but I'm not sure if it'll be in same universe

In this AU, you see your soulmates face as your own reflection~ THIS IS A REPOST OF MY OWN WORK I accidentally deleted the original post so the read more doesn't work on my own blog 😭

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Something considered normal would rarely be considered wrong.

So, registering your soulmate’s image via looking in a mirror at 18 and having a photo snapped had never worried you.

Everyone did it.

It was normal.

It was safe.

It was how most people found their soulmates, and even then some just didn’t.

This early spring day started as every day usually did. You got up and ready for work, took public transport to the office, and logged in at 9 a.m.

Lunch came and went, spent with the coworkers you got along with best, all venting about the small annoyances of the morning. You all returned to the office and the afternoon crawled by.

Last minute, your boss asked you to finish a report now rather than tomorrow morning and you waved goodbye to your co-workers with a shrug and a put-upon smile. They’d all been in your position at one time or another. No-one found it strange.

The report dragged on for a few hours and you had no idea why it couldn’t wait until tomorrow, but your boss was hardly known for his patience. He at least had the decency to stay behind too.

You sighed and printed a quick copy before knocking on the door to your boss’s office.

He called out and told you to come in, taking the report when you handed it over. His eyes barely scanned it before he spoke again; “Hey, I know it’s late, but we have a visitor in the conference room. Go keep them company, will you? It will just take a couple of minutes.”

You bit back the sigh and the roll of your eyes, knowing both could lose you your job. Stupid, tight ass boss. “No problem, boss,” were the words that came out of your mouth, a false smile before you turned and left - heading to the conference room.

You took the liberty of rolling your eyes hard before you plastered the smile back on and pushed the door open. “Hello.” You stepped into the room and held out your hand as you gave your name. “Mr. Dickson is sorry to keep you waiting, but how can I help you?”

Not the normal sort of client, if a client he was. Most clients showed up in suits or some sort of business attire, but this man wore a black T-shirt, combats, and a jacket certainly not of the suit kind.

“Brock Rumlow.” He smirked over at you and you saw the way his eyes gave you a once over. Slowly. Urgh. Double ugh when he continued with; “No problem at all, sweetheart. Don’t suppose you could get me a coffee?” He nodded over to the machine as he eased back into his seat.

“Of course, sir,” you answered with a smile.

“Feel free to grab yourself one, too. Your boss sent you in here to keep me company, huh?”

“Something like that, Mr. Rumlow.” The pot only needed warming before you poured two cups and offered him one, taking a seat opposite the man.

“I hope he doesn’t make you stay this late all the time, I hate it when my boss makes me work overtime.” He snorted and rolled his eyes as he took a sip of his coffee. “Do this, do that, clean up some mess, collect an alien’s soulmate, kill that politician, clean up more mess. Not a day’s rest I tell ya.”

You nodded politely, staring down at your cup as you fully processed his words. Aliens, soulmates… killing politicians? You didn’t know which was the most out there. “I-’m sorry I’m not sure I follow…”

He only looked more delighted at your confusion and the way your body had stiffened. “Well, you see, sweetheart, there’s this guy, Loki, who showed up outta nowhere and, see, he talks a big game about taking over the Earth and we figured, seeing as you’re his soulmate, that he might rethink those big ideas if we offer you up instead.” Brock shrugged as if this was just casual conversation and didn’t have you frozen in your seat. “’Course, if that doesn’t work, maybe threatening to harm ya will change his tune. But what do I know about aliens? I’m just part of the STRIKE team.”

Brock smiled, as though he hadn’t just threatened you or spouted what sounded like absolute bullshit. A beat passed as you stared into the cup in your hands, eyes unseeing. “So why don’t we-”

He growled angrily as you threw the coffee and the cup containing it at him and jolted to your feet, running for the door, pulling it open-

Your short-lived escape attempt ended when another similarly dressed and built man stepped into view. His hands clamped down on your arms and the panic really set in as you protested and tried to escape. “Let me go!” You kicked and thrashed, hoping the noise might cause your boss to call the cops, but that small slice of hope was soon ripped from you. He appeared from his office, face like thunder.

“You said this would be quick, hurry up before someone hears this racket.”

Brock huffed from behind you, fingers sliding into your hair and tugging hard to drag your head back. “We coulda done this the nice way, bitch, but that’s off the table.” He pressed a cloth to your mouth, harder than necessary.

The thought of not breathing hadn’t even crossed your mind before the fumes entered your body and you soon slumped into unconsciousness.

You woke already knowing you weren’t at home. Everything felt off and you hadn’t even opened your eyes yet as you laid on what felt like a bed. You took a shallow breath, trying to remember, but everything before falling asleep stayed fuzzy at the edges.

You had been to work and… right, your boss had made you stay late and there had been coffee and…

Your eyes snapped open but so far it seemed like you were alone. The edge of the bed wasn’t far from the wall and you hesitated before rolling over. Good. No-one there either and this side of the wall had windows.

You shuffled over to them, eyebrows furrowing at their size. Small and curved at the edges. you slid the blind up to be met with the sight of clouds and uninterrupted sky.

You scrambled to the edge of the bed and the one door that led in and out of the room. “Hey! Hey!” you yelled, banging on the door, fear skittering through you. How long ago had last night been? What time was it now? Where were you now?

“Quit ya banging!” A stern thump that made the door rattle had you stumbling back and falling down to sit on the edge of the bed. “We’re nearly there, no need to get your panties in a twist, bitch.” It sounded like the man you’d met in the office… Brock if you remembered correctly.

He’d certainly changed his tune, but you had thrown coffee at him. Bastard deserved it.

“Where are we going?!” You had no idea if he would answer, if anyone would. Did it even really matter?

You were to be offered up as some consolation prize to an alien invader in the hopes he might go away.

You weren’t convinced of the plan; who would change their plans for the mere idea and appearance of their soulmate. You probably wouldn’t if you were in Loki’s position.

“New York,” came the answer before you heard footsteps leave the door.

You sank to the bed and flopped back on it, unsure what to do with yourself or for the rest of the flight.

You sat in what had to be some kind of interrogation room, a bit rich considering these guys had kidnapped you. A window made up much of the wall in front of you; the blank expanse of glass left you with nothing to look at but the reflection of your soulmate. It hadn’t changed for several years, but you’d noticed recently his hair had grown longer and it didn’t seem as well kept as before.

The sharp lines of his face had always left you flustered, but now they left you worried at the gaunt paleness that clung to him. What had happened? You couldn’t possibly know, you didn’t even know his name. Well, you hadn’t.

Loki. An alien. An invader.

You continued to sit silently in the chair, not knowing that an agent and your soulmate’s brother were busy deciding your fate.

“Father will not be pleased. Midgardians are not welcome to our realm and Loki is likely to remain in prison the remainder of her short life.” Thor spoke calmly but firmly. “Besides which, you tell me she is dangerous? A criminal? Why should Asgard take a criminal of Midgard to the golden realm? I do not think our prison is the best place to introduce them.” Thor couldn’t be certain, but he doubted the two would get along from what SHIELD had told him.

His brother would likely perceive another criminal as a threat or he would keep his guard up. Loki was not one for letting people in so easily. Especially not now. Whether she deserved kindness or not, he doubted Loki would afford her any.

“What if your brother wants to bring her?”

Thor’s eyes narrowed, giving the agent a sidelong glance. Hardly normal to accept a prisoner’s request… but he did love his brother fiercely - despite his recent tricks. “If,” Thor stressed, “Loki wants to bring her… I may agree,” Thor conceded. But he doubted such a thing would happen. “I will speak with him.”

Neither you or Thor knew the thin thread by which your fate hung.

The car rumbled through central park, you seated in the back wearing handcuffs and some gag like thing over your mouth that stopped you speaking. You still wore the bright orange scrubs and white shirt as though they’d plucked you from a prison somewhere.

You were free of Rumlow at least, you didn’t even know if the agent driving knew that you hadn’t been picked up from a penitentiary. This new one aligned more with what you imagined an ‘agent’ to be. Black suit, white shirt, sunglasses. Very Men In Black, which, ironic, since you were about to meet two aliens.

The car came to a stop and you looked out at the people milling around. You only recognised two for sure - one of them being your soulmate. Tony Stark confused you, for a moment, before you recalled his shift into heroism the last few years.

An equally tall, blond man held your soulmate's arm just above his elbow, so you had to assume this was the brother you’d heard murmurs about.

Your car door opened and a hand grabbed similarly below your elbow to help you out. Curious eyes turned on you and all you could do was silently, desperately, plead for someone to step in. Someone to take the gag off. You just needed one of them to be curious.

“Er… I don’t remember any plus ones going out to this little party.” Tony Stark gave the agent at your side a look over the top of his sunglasses, his gaze briefly sliding to you.

“She’s Loki’s soulmate,” the agent replied, no judgement but not much other emotion in his voice. He turned and marched you towards the pair of aliens.

“Now, hang on a minute.” A different voice objecting this time and you craned your head behind you to see a blond dressed in a check shirt and a brown jacket. You thought you might have seen his face somewhere before, but you weren’t exactly firing on all cylinders and you couldn’t place him. “She might be a criminal of some kind, but you’re going to send her to another planet?”

“I’m sorry, Captain, but it seems she may be more dangerous than a Midgardian prison could handle,” Thor answered. “My brother told me he has made many a visit to her on Earth.” Fucking news to you! Your eyes flicked to Loki, brows furrowed, but he didn’t meet your gaze. “I do not think he could have taught her many of the tricks he uses, but SHIELD assures me that they have indeed met before.”

Now you understood the reason for the gag. Can’t contradict made up bullshit if you can’t speak. You were about to turn a furious gaze on the agent that brought you out of the car when the soft clinking of a chain drew your attention.

Loki curled a chained arm around your waist, grip firm, and tugged your back flush against him. The action forestalled anything you had been about to do or say and you attempted to catch his eye. He ducked his head and you felt the cool press of his own gag to the top of your head.

The gesture had you stilling in surprise and seemed to only cement the story that Thor had been spun.

You felt eyes on the two of you, studying intently, before Loki’s little stunt seemed to be accepted as proof and preparations began again. You assumed for travel to this Asgard, but how exactly? There weren’t any space ships nearby and you were fairly certain the car you’d arrived in wasn’t about to escape Earth’s atmosphere.

Something with Loki here?

Thor reappeared in your line of sight holding one of two handles of some canister. A blue cube glowed inside, but it didn’t make any more sense than it had a few minutes ago. He caught your eye, his look intense and serious. “Make sure you do not let go or you will be lost to space as Loki was before he came here.”

You felt like meaning lay beneath the words, something you were supposed to glean from them, but still struggling to process what had happened the last few days you simply nodded and took hold of the other handle. Loki’s hand settled beside yours, overlapping slightly. Unsure if this stemmed from kindness, or an attempt to be sure you didn’t let go. or something else to drag you further into the fiction and lies that had been created around you... Well, you had no way to protest, anyway.

You hoped nobody would spend too long looking for you. Maybe the local police had already told everyone you were dead, covering up the act that you still couldn’t quite understand.

You wondered if you would ever see Earth again after this.

Your hand unknowingly reached for Loki’s at your waist, gripping tightly in fear of what was to come and in sorrow that you didn’t know what mess you were leaving behind.

Silence as Thor turned the handle, anticlimactic, but you felt it as your stomach dropped similarly to when an elevator descends too quickly and you were pulled upwards. The blur of colours was almost too much for your eyes to bear as your vision blurred, but soon enough your feet settled on solid ground once more.

You desperately blinked back the blurring at the edges of your vision to take in the bright gold that lined the room you had landed in. Or maybe an observatory of some kind.

“Welcome home,” a deep but firm voice greeted, your eyes drawn to a man in gold armour whose eyes glowed just as brightly as the metal. He sheathed the sword into the metal stand in front of him and approached the three of you.

You thought you could see something sad in his gaze as he touched the metal on your face, drawing it easily away from you and returning your ability to speak. “I am sorry you were dragged into this mess, miss.”

“How did you…?”

“My name is Heimdall and my duty is to watch over the Nine Realms. While I cannot see all at once, and some have managed to evade my sight in the past,” At this he gave Loki a look before returning his gaze to you - eyes softening once more, “I have kept an eye on your journey these past few days.”

“Heimdall, of what do you speak?” Thor asked in utter confusion.

But you found the words and breath to speak first. “They lied to you, I’m not an inmate! I’ve never even gotten a parking ticket!” you protested, courage mounting with every word you got out. “I was just doing my job like always and a couple of thugs came to the office and kidnapped me.” A squeeze at your waist reminded you of Loki’s presence and you pulled out of his grip, turning your annoyance on him. “And we have never met! I’ve only ever seen his reflection.”

“Loki-” Thor growled at his brother, but received only a simple shrug and a look that lacked all remorse in reply. “Why did you-?”

Warm hands took your wrists and distracted you, your gaze drawn by watching Heimdall break the cuffs on your wrists as easily as if they were made of paper. “My apologies, miss. I had no way of letting anyone on Earth know of the misconception.” He didn’t smile, per se, but he seemed genuine and his greeting kind.

He took a step back and you breathed with relief to finally be free of all your chains. “At least someone knows what’s going on.” Though Loki had to have known too, so why had he lied to Thor and SHIELD? “How exactly am I supposed to get home?” you asked, looking between the two brothers as if scolding children.

“Heimdall is to use the Tesseract to restore the Bifrost and once it’s fixed, he will be able to send you home. If I can, I will return with you and explain the situation to the Avengers - they’ll be sure to help,” Thor rushed to assure you.

To be fair, they had tried, but Thor had been so convinced by SHIELD… Well, he just seemed to have gotten all mixed up in all of this so you nodded. “So, I’ll just have to wait until the bridge is fixed?”

Thor smiled brightly this time, like the sun bursting through on a cloudy day. “Yes, just until it is fixed. I’m sure Mother will be happy to provide hospitality.”

“I see my son is already volunteering me.” Her voice sounded light and happy despite the situation, drifting over from some as yet unseen doorway off to the side.

“Your Majesty.” Heimdall bowed to her and you quickly followed suit - you didn’t want to end up in the dungeons for however long it would take to fix the Bifrost.

You straightened up to find her gentle smile turned your way, her beauty and motherly face stealing your breath. “I’m glad to finally meet you, though you are such a familiar sight that I feel as though I know you already.” Her arm settled softly around your shoulders and she started to steer you along the beautiful bridge you stood on.

Loki huffed behind you and you wondered if he might be embarrassed? No, probably not.

“I’m sorry you were brought here under such circumstances, but welcome to Asgard.” Weird space travel and spy stories coming to life aside, maybe spending some time in the golden city laid out before you wouldn’t be so bad.

Want to be tagged in future parts or future Loki fic? Go here

#loki x reader #loki laufesyon x reader #x reader #loki layfeyson imagine #MCU x reader #soulmate AU

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harkonnen-darkness · 5 months ago

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- 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🖤

New Taglist...

Please write in the comments (just a heart, emoji idc. 🖤) or leave a like, that you want to be tagged.

I currently can't see your usernames anymore on Google Docs. If I remember correctly, there were about 30 or 40 names?!

I will then, as a kind of backup, simply save your names in the notes on my device. Another advantage would be, that I can see your changed usernames. I couldn't tag a few last time, probably because the names no longer existed.

Repost because I accidentally deleted the other one wtf, sorry!?

Have a nice day and thanks for your support! 🖤

#feyd rautha harkonnen #•love bites story•#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha dune #dune part two #dune part 2 #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha harkonnen smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha #dark aesthetic #dune fanfiction

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goldenseresinretriever · 4 months ago

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False Confidence: Chapter 2

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, mentions of sexual harassment, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: This is a repost from my series, False Confidence. It was originally posted in March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

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Everyone’s waiting for your answer but your head is spinning. The silence stretches for just shy of too long before you finally clear your throat. “Can I have a minute?” You stand, shakily, pushing your chair back and making for the door. You curl your fingers around Josie’s wrist as you pass her, tugging her after you. No one tries to stop you and when you exit into the hallway, it’s empty. You glance in both directions, find them unfamiliar and then just pick one, dragging Josie behind you. Once you think you’re out of earshot of the office, you round on Josie who’s regarding you calmly. Your hands are still trembling but you can’t hide your anger anymore and you snap. “What were you thinking!” You snap and Josie’s eyes widen in surprise. Your voice trembles but the bite is still there. “First you tell me to sue him for sexual assault and now you want me to date him?!” Josie sighs, rolling her eyes.

“You really think that little of me, Roadie? Look, what he did was fucked up, and I knew you wouldn’t want to press charges because you’re well, you, but I want to support you if that’s something you really want. Either way he deserves to pay for what he did. If you don’t want to take this to court that’s fine, but why not benefit from this? You said it yourself, you’re worried about Dan’s rule, so play the system. Also, I didn’t say you should date him because I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy, I said to fake date him. It’s just a game, like playing pretend. It’s January, Dan makes his decisions on renewals by April at the latest and then maybe you stick with it until the end of the year and then you can say you broke up over summer break and it’s over. Plus it’s perfect, just have him show up to a few school events. It doesn’t have to be every one since he has a career that has him traveling most of the year, so you have a good reason when you don’t bring him to something. And since he’ll be gone most of the time anyway, you don’t have to put much effort into the ruse.”

“Plus,” she gives you a rueful smile. “As much as it pains me to say it, Javy’s not such a bad guy. I don’t approve of his choices but I know from seeing him with the guys and Zam especially, he’s got a good heart. When he says he’s sorry and that he didn’t mean to hurt you, I think he means it. The guy has three sisters for heaven’s sake. I wouldn’t even think of suggesting this if I didn’t trust him in some capacity. And like I said, it’s not like you’re actually dating him.” She shrugs again.

“I couldn’t do something like that. Using someone that way? It’s not right.” Your heart squeezes as you force the words out and you try your best to ignore the way your voice shakes. Josie gives you a pointed look.

“He’s using you too, remember? Zam needs him to fix his reputation. A steady girlfriend is exactly what he needs, or at least the illusion of one.”

“Does he need it, or does the team?” Your words have more bite than you intended and Josie regards you curiously.

“He is the team. It’s his job, the way your teaching position is yours.” She says coolly. “I’m not going to force you one way or another, but I’m just saying, an opportunity like this isn’t going to come around again.” Your stomach is a tangle of nerves as Josie goes back inside and you consider her words. It would be mutually beneficial for both of your jobs, and he clearly wasn’t attracted to you, so perhaps some kind of agreement wouldn’t hurt. You can’t believe you’re actually considering this but you think about your kids, your classroom, and your job that you really do love. If this was what you had to do to guarantee that you kept it, you could play the game. Your kids are everything and you take great pride in your work. As a kindergarten teacher, you’re the kids’ first impression of the school and you take that job very seriously. The idea of having to hand that over to someone else makes your heart twist painfully in your chest. You can do this for them.

“Hey,” a voice breaks through your train of thought and you jump in surprise. Javy holds his hands up in front of him, backing up a step to give you space. “Easy, I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m not going to hurt you.” He says, brown eyes widening at your terrified expression. You feel your body curl into itself instinctively and see a flicker in his eyes that you can’t read. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He says slowly, eyes running over your figure but not in a scrutinizing way. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was checking you over. “So,” he says, posture relaxing as he leans a shoulder against the wall as he regards you. “How are you feeling about this agreement?”

You pick at the fabric of the skirt of the dress, averting your eyes so you don’t have to look at him. After it’s been a little too long without you answering you give a slight shrug before you force the words out, your voice quiet. “I really love my job. I don’t want to lose it.” It’s not an answer, not really but he nods slowly as you chance a peek at his face to see his reaction. He catches your gaze and gives you a small smile. It feels like the first peek of the sun through an overcast sky after a storm. It sends an unexpected droplet of warmth plummeting straight into your stomach. You find that you don’t want to escape his gaze nearly as much after seeing that soft quirk of his lips. Cautiously, you turn to face him fully and watch as the corners of his mouth slowly tick up in tandem. The clouds move apart and as you’re bathed in his warmth, you wonder what it would feel like to experience the full force of his smile. You think it might destroy you.

“What about you?” You don’t recognize your voice when you find it. You clear your throat and try again. “How are you feeling about the agreement?” He shrugs his broad shoulders.

“There are worse things.” You suppress the urge to flinch at his casual words that send a slice of cold down your spine. “Zam’s been on my ass for months about settling down, that’s true.”

He pauses so you ask, “And you wouldn’t rather have an actual girlfriend? A real one, I mean.” He gives you a curious look.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he points out and you feel your cheeks heat as you avert your gaze from the intensity of his.

“No,” you answer softly. “I wouldn’t.” You don’t offer any additional explanation so he just nods.

“Well, I wouldn’t either.” He says and you realize you’ve unintentionally placed the two of you at a stalemate. “So, that’s it then?” He asks, finally breaking the silence. “We’re doing this?” You swallow hard before nodding firmly.

“We’re doing this.” He nods back before extending a hand into the buffer of space he’d left between the two of you. You stare at it for a long moment before extending one of your own. He holds his hand still, leaving it to you to wrap your digits around his larger ones. He curls his around yours then and you’re reminded of how they felt on your hips, pressing into the flesh like a potter molding clay. When he shakes your hand you watch the muscles flex in his arm and wonder if you’ve unknowingly thrown yourself into the deep end, condemned to a death by drowning.

“Hi, I’m Javy, nice to meet you.” Even though he’s told you his name once before, this feels different. You introduce yourself as well. It feels odd. You’ve known him before ever being introduced. This feels different, almost like the air between the two you had shifted. He lets go of your hand as quickly as he grips it and holds out his hand back towards Zam’s office.

“Shall we?” He asks and you nod, turning to go ahead of him. You feel the ghost of fingertips against the small of your back and you stiffen instinctively at the unexpected contact. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologizes instantly, pulling his fingers away. “I’m a naturally touchy guy. It’s a bad habit, I’ll try to be more aware of it if it makes you uncomfortable.” He sounds genuinely apologetic and maybe a tiny bit embarrassed. He holds the door to the office open for you as you both enter and you square your shoulders, willing them not to shake as you approach Zam’s desk.

“I’ll do it.” Zam looks surprised but nods before turning to Javy.

“Javy?” You don’t turn to look at him but the pause before his answer tells you he’s nodding.

“I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Zam says, not sounding very convincing before she tries again. “Good. I’ll draw up something official that the two of you can sign. In the meantime, the two of you should get to know each other. Javy, I’ll arrange a press conference at which you’re going to address the photos and ask the press as well as your fans to respect your girlfriend’s privacy. After that you’ll need to start appearing together in public: dates, Roadie you’ll need to start attending home games and maybe even an away game or two where your schedule permits.” Your brain starts getting hazy as the weight of what you’ve just signed up for settles onto your shoulders. Zam’s still speaking but your brain is louder as it gets heavier and then Zam’s dismissing everyone.

You feel Josie’s hand on your shoulder, steering you towards the door. You file out of the office with everyone else and follow behind Josie, your mind still so busy that you don’t hear the calling of your name until a hand curls around your wrist and you jump, letting out a squeak of surprise. The hand retreats instantly and Javy gives you a guilty look. “Sorry, but you weren’t answering.” He scratches the back of his neck. You give him a shy nod, twisting your hands in front of you. “I don’t have your phone number. I figured that’s probably important.” You fumble to extricate your phone from your purse, tapping at the screen with trembling fingers before handing it to him. He inputs the digits with ease before handing the phone back. “Cool, well I’ll be in touch.” He says before giving you one last smile before turning to jog down the hallway in the opposite direction.

Once he’s gone you look down at your phone, and your eyes widen as you see what he’s done. Your texts are open to a new conversation with a contact named “Big Sexy ;)” with a single bubble from your side of the chain reading “How’s dinner sound?” Your phone chimes and a message pops up from the opposite side of the screen.

“It would be my pleasure.” Followed by an unfamiliar address. Your breath catches in your throat. Not for the first time today you wonder if you’re in over your head.

***

Your kitchen looks like a hurricane’s gone through it. The result of the storm perches on the corner of the counter, prompt seated in a frilly baking dish. The lemon-blueberry loaf fills the space with a delicious aroma as you frown at your reflection. You’d finally invested in a full-length mirror at Josie’s behest and you’re still getting used to using it. You smooth your hands down the surface of your light-wash jeans, resisting the urge to tug at the sweater you’re wearing as you regard your reflection. Your eyes shift to the sliver of the kitchen that you can catch in the mirror and frown at the mess. You’re a stress baker and so far today you have the loaf you’re taking to Javy’s along with muffins for your class tomorrow and another tray for the teachers. You glance at the clock on the wall and grimace. If you don’t leave now you’ll be late and you don’t need that extra stress on top of everything else on your mind tonight. You begrudgingly grab your purse and the loaf pan, heading out as the sun starts to paint the sky with the warm pallet of sunset.

***

You googled the apartment complex before you left but that doesn’t stop you from craning your neck up at the impressive reflective surface of the luxury apartment building. It’s smack in the middle of downtown San Diego and you’d passed a packed highway of commuters heading in the opposite direction on your way here. As you step into the opulent lobby, you feel severely underdressed, especially as you approach the front desk. You’ve never seen an apartment with a front desk but then again you’ve never had reason to interact with the extremely wealthy aside from teaching their children. The woman at the front desk doesn’t look much younger than you but she could be older. It would make sense that a job like this would age you less than corralling elementary schoolers all day.

“Can I help you?” She asks with a nasal voice that has everything to do with her pinched expression of thinly veiled disgust as she gives you a once-over that’s definitely not in her job description. You give her a tight-lipped smile in response.

“I’m here to see Javy Machado.” You consider calling him Mr. Machado but if he’s supposed to be your boyfriend you need to sound comfortable around him. Especially since this probably won’t be the last time you have to interact with… Emma. You find her name tag as she finishes her silent assessment of you, a pitying smile on her lips.

“Oh honey, you’re not going to need that.” She nods at the loaf pan in your hands. “It’s not the kind of cake he invited you over for.” She smirks like she’s won some sort of game and you wonder exactly how many girls she’s seen come through here. You plaster your polite smile on even harder, imagining her as one of your students’ mothers. You’re not sure where your confidence comes from but maybe Roadie, fake girlfriend to superstar hockey player Javy Machado is braver than Ms. Roadie, kindergarten teacher, because you respond coolly.

“I’d appreciate it if you let my boyfriend know I’m here, please, Emma. We have dinner plans.” She looks like she’s about to snort but then her expression changes completely and you don’t understand until she addresses someone who must be behind you.

“Mr. Machado! Good evening!” She chirps cheerfully and she reminds you of a baby bird. Desperate. You steel yourself and turn to face Javy, keeping your brave face in place as best as you can.

“Perfect timing, sweetheart.” The words sound clunky and unfamiliar in your mouth and you see Javy’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly before understanding fills them.

“Hey beautiful, ready for dinner?” He leans in then, eyes watching you carefully as if trying to convey his intentions before his warm lips meet your cheek in a chaste kiss that sets your skin ablaze in its wake. You give him a simple nod, words failing you as you turn over the casual term of endearment in your mind.

Emma’s watching your exchange with barely contained shock. Javy doesn’t even pay her a moment of attention, nodding to the left in silent instruction and you follow him to an elevator bay. You register then that his hands are full of takeout bags and you immediately wrestle one from his grasp as he juggles them to free a hand for the keypad to the elevator. “Thanks," he says and you arrange the bag in your arms. “I hope you like Cajun.” The smell escaping the bags hits your nose then and your nostrils fill with the rich, spicy scent and you feel a little of the tension slip out of your shoulders even though the smell is entirely foreign to you.

“I’ve never had it.” You admit as the elevator arrives and the two of you board it.

“Never?!” He looks surprised before it melts into a grin that knocks the air out of your lungs. “Well, then this is the perfect place to try it for the first time. Well, other than New Orleans.” He amends and you nod along. The two of you fall into silence as the elevator climbs. You notice then what he’s wearing as you stand on opposite sides of the elevator. You’d felt underdressed in the lobby but he’s dressed in a faded ASU shirt and athletic shorts over socks and slide sandals. He notices you looking and gives you a rueful look. “I was banking on having time to change before you got here.” He explains and you shake your head, dismissing his half-apology.

“It’s fine. It’s your house after all.” He smiles again and the silence is back before the door slides open onto an entryway. You’ve arrived straight into his apartment and you let your eyes explore the beginning of his home. The entryway is sparse and undecorated. It looks stiff, devoid of personality. There’s a hallway that turns out of sight to your left and a closed door to the right.

“That’s the spare bedroom.” He explains as he slips off his shoes and you follow suit. “It’s a weird layout but it suits my needs.” You’re not entirely sure what he means until you follow him down the hallway. Once it opens onto the living room you think you understand Javy Machado just a little bit more.

The living room is a complete 180 from the entryway. The furniture looks expensive and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlook a breathtaking view of the city but the end tables are littered with picture frames and the space has a distinct lived-in feel. You get the feeling that his overnight guests don’t make it this far into the apartment. He makes a beeline for the kitchen and you hurry to catch up with him. You manage to catch sight of at least one of the frames’ contents and a soft smile quirks at your lips. A younger Javy and Jake grin back at you. Their arms are slung over each other’s shoulders, faces sweaty, wearing red and gold hockey jerseys that you assume are from ASU given Javy’s shirt of the same color. You make your way into the kitchen where Javy’s opening the bags and accounting for all the food. He looks up when you come in, depositing the extra bag next to him and the loaf pan beside it. He snatches it up, groaning as he takes a deep sniff of the contents.

“Roadie, this smells delicious.” He remarks before excusing himself to his bedroom to change leaving you in the kitchen. Once you’re alone, you feel the nerves start to creep back in. You worry the hem of your sweater as you wait until a faint jingling reaches your ears and you turn just in time to see a wary black snout make its way around the corner into the kitchen. Of all the things you’ve seen so far in Javy’s apartment, this is the biggest surprise. The tiny dachshund regards you curiously and you do your best to manage your nerves, knowing the dog can definitely sense them and squat down.

“Hi there,” you whisper cautiously and the dog approaches carefully. You reach a hand out and she sniffs it suspiciously before licking at your fingers and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. You catch sight of her collar as you scratch her head gently. “Roxie” it reads and you smile wider. “Hi there, Roxie, it's nice to meet you.” Roxie seems equally pleased and rolls over onto her belly to encourage further scratches and rubs. You’re so consumed with her that you don’t notice Javy return until Roxie squirms into your grasp to face her owner, giving a playful yip. He’s gaping at the two of you and you’re instantly nervous again. You stand quickly, dusting your hands off on your jeans.

“S-sorry I didn’t mean to intrude I just- She came in here so I just- I’m sorry.” You sputter but he’s still staring at Roxie before he slowly moves his gaze to you. Something unreadable passes through his eyes and then he shakes his head.

“No, it's fine I just, she was supposed to be in the laundry room. And I…” he trails off before continuing. “She doesn’t usually like other people, especially strangers.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he says, looking back down at where Roxie’s sitting, regarding him with a cocked head on the floor. He looks back at you, expression unreadable. “Should we eat?” You nod and follow him to sit at the countertop. He pulls two bowls out of the cabinets and opens up some take-out soup containers. “How do you feel about seafood?” Your stomach drops as nerves twist your gut. He looks up and must see your expression because he just nods and grabs one of the containers, dishing the hearty-looking stew into a bowl before passing it to you. “That one’s just sausage. I didn’t know where you stood on seafood, so I got both.” Your heart aches slightly as you thank him and take the bowl. He fills his bowl from a different container before taking a seat next to you. “So, Roadie,” he says after taking a few bites in silence, “tell me about yourself.”

You squirm slightly in your seat. You’ve never been one to talk much about yourself so you decide to stick to the basics, and treat this like a job interview. It kind of is a job interview, except you’re interviewing for a position after taking it instead of before. “I’m almost thirty. I’m a kindergarten teacher at Acacia Academy. That’s how I know Josie and Reuben. Josie and I are colleagues and their daughter Skylar is in my class.” Javy nods, before asking.

“Do you like it? Teaching?” You nod vigorously and you think you see a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“My kids mean everything to me. I can’t imagine doing something else.” You admit and he nods again.

“What do you do other than work?” You give him a confused look so he clarifies. “What are your hobbies?”

“I’m an artist,” you answer easily. “It’s not in any way professional by any means, but I like doing it.” You shrug.

“What kind of art?” He asks and you shrug again.

“I work with lots of mediums, I don’t like being limited to just one.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Painting,” you answer easily.

“Why?” He rests his chin on his hand and you feel pinned under his casual gaze. It feels odd, and unfamiliar, being the sole focus of his attention. It’s like walking to your car on a cloudless day and feeling every inch of your cool skin prickling under the unyielding warmth of the sun.

“It’s so versatile,” you explain, dropping your gaze to where your fingers pick at the napkin pinned under your bowl. There are so many styles and techniques and nothing is clear-cut. You’re not limited by the colors you have in front of you, everything can blend. Anything’s possible. The only limitation you have is your creativity.” An unreadable look passes through his eyes but then he’s back to normal. You don’t get long to dwell on it, though, before he’s back to asking you questions.

***

“So, you said your principal doesn’t care about making illegal rules because it’s a private school, so why not teach at a public school?” You fidget with your spoon, looking away from him before answering.

“Public schools aren’t really a good fit for me. I can’t get comfortable.” He doesn’t push and you’re thankful.

“Speaking of comfort, we should talk about how we’re going to do this.” At your confused expression, he elaborates. “Pretend to be in a relationship, I mean. For starters, if we’re really going to sell this, you can’t be jumping out of your skin every time I touch you. People are going to expect at least a little PDA.” He must see the wide-eyed dread on your face because he holds up a placating hand. “I’m not saying we have to make out every time there are cameras around, but holding hands, hugs, and the occasional kiss here and there are going to have to be something you’re comfortable with.” You nod, weakly. “That being said, if there’s anything specific you don’t want me doing, tell me. I don’t want you to be scared of me. We’re on the same team here. This doesn’t work if we’re not working together.” You nod, nervously. It wasn’t like this last time, this is all new territory for you. “If it’ll help you loosen up, we could just have sex. No strings attached, obviously, but if it’ll make you more comfortable-“

“NO.” Your voice comes out with more force than you intended it to, laced with terror as your heart hammers in your chest. What are you doing here? What were you thinking, agreeing to this? Of course, he’d expect you to have sex with him. He’s used to having a new girl every night. You’re losing the battle with your thoughts when Javy breaks right through them.

“Hey, HEY, easy Roadie, it was just a suggestion, we don’t have to.” He looks like he’s fighting the urge to grab your hands in his.

“Please,” you hate the way the word sounds. You want something to feel real. One first to be yours, truly yours. Clearly, he hates the way it sounds too because his face contorts into something unfamiliar before he nods.

“No sex, done.” He hesitates for a moment before he opens his mouth again, choosing his words carefully and you see a flash of rage in his eyes and you bristle in fear. “Roadie… I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk about this with, but I just,” he shakes his head, pushing forward. “Did, did someone hurt you?” You realize what the rage in his eyes is now. Not anger at you, for turning him down, but protectiveness. Because he’s taken your vehement refusal as something else. You faintly remember Josie mentioning that he has three sisters. Of course, that would be his first instinct. You shake your head quickly.

“No, no, it’s not that.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you and thinks you just don’t trust him as the fire in his eyes doesn’t dim.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, all the girls on the team are really sweet and would be willing to-“

“It’s not that.” You insist and you can tell he’s still unconvinced.

“Not that you have to talk to someone but I’m sure it might help-“

“JAVY, I’m a virgin.” You squeeze your eyes shut before blurting out the words, hiding from the shame that coats your throat in their wake. The silence between the two of you stretches long enough that eventually you crack open an eye to see his reaction, but there isn’t one. He’s just sitting there, waiting for you. You wrench your other eye open, struggling to get comfortable in the silence. Your fingers twist together in your lap as you wait for him to say something.

“That wasn’t your first kiss, was it?” He says, finally and you can see the gears turning in his mind as he follows his new line of thinking but you shake your head.

“No, I, I’ve been kissed before. It’s just… it’s been a while. I’m a little out of practice.” He nods, contemplating something unspoken before he nods again and looks you straight in the eye.

“Roadie, can I kiss you?”

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silverechosandblankmasks · 1 year ago

Text

Post-Purgatory headcanon

// CW for talks of potential Egg/Child death and the fact several people tried/try to kill themselves after said eggs supposedly die (if you see this again, I accidentally deleted the orginal post adhsjhdaj so I had to repost it sorry lol)

In my head, the people fleeing Purgatory had a little more time, or a little less distance to cover or hell maybe managed to find the boat quicker, and everyone who wanted to stay behind was either dragged or knocked out because nobody left behind even now, even in the face of tragedy.

I should also say it's my hc some people were left behind in Quesadilla island (mostly people who didn't participate in Purgatory at all) though lorewise I'm making it so some of the ones who just didn't make it to the last day were there on the last day, but several people were actually sent back to Quesadilla island early for whatever reason.

Phil on his barely held together wings and with Fit's stolen elytra and rockets, they carry most people, either with lasso trains or managing to pick up people as everyone bolted for the ship.

People are quickly and efficiently ferried or run to the boat, with Tubbo and Phil being last as Tubbo refused until his people were gone first, but Phil's wings get hit by a stray meteor just before they make it and Phil goes down hard, wings screaming in agony.

Thankfully they get on board and sail away pained and feeling grief, but alive, as the bomb goes off in the distance.

Almost everyone made it, and they’re only missing Maximus, but in their sorrow fueled state a lot of people are still mad at the man so not many can really find it in themselves to care at the moment.

It's rougher when those either unconscious or tied up for their own safety are waking up or finally freed from their ties. The ensuing argument is dark, loud, and painful on all sides, more than one person has to be retied back up and carefully watched in case they try to "Finish the Job" they were stopped from doing on Purgatory.

Thankfully, most of the argument is settled after Phil tries to tell them he doesn't think this is it, there might be a chance-that Cellbit tearfully spits out to not give him hope, he can't Phil, he yells-

Phil silences him with a sharp word, familiar in the way Cellbit unconsciously falls in line as a well-built habit from these last two weeks forces him to settle enough to listen to his team captain.

Phil looks at him, and the other parents, and evenly tells them that right before the rest of the room collapsed him and Etoiles did see Richarlyson before he suddenly disappeared before their eyes and that had to mean something. (Yes I'm making that canon, shh they need something to push them along, and I like the idea)

Cellbit only shakes, and Phil quietly looks at the other parents who tried to stay behind, who want to stop hurting, and asks what happens if they are alive? And come back to parents who didn't even try to stay alive for them?

There are flinches and more than one person starts crying, but Philza keeps going, and ignores his own tears dripping down his face as he fails to hold them back.

Phil's not asking them to hope, he can't, but he can ask that if they can't stay alive in honor of their children, who wouldn't want them to give up despite the pain, or can't find in themselves to live for those who did survive, that they stay and try until they at least know for sure, their kids deserve that at the very least, even though it hurts.

After a long, tear soaked silence, finally tensions are lessened and agreements are made, either out loud or silently in a very slight nod. Nobody is happy or 100% okay now, hell a lot of them still need to be watched, but they make due.

Wounds and injuries are tended to in the ships, admittedly small, infirmary. Phil has to be carried because he collapses in pain after the conversation the minute he tries to help out, and rides out waves of agony as they set his arm and left wing, and gets his injuries cleaned.

They try to get him to rest, but he refuses, before finally compromising and taking it easy, with only overseeing, planning, and sitting often under his team's and Tubbo's scarily watchful eyes. Honestly, he can't be too mad though, he has people to worry about him at least.

Food/water are heartily indulged in after two long, long weeks of borderline starving for most of it. Most of them are malnourished, dehydrated, and fucked up in more ways in one, so they focus on making sure they won't run out of food before they managed to get... somewhere, but don't limit themselves or anyone too much, it would be cruel after everything they endured.

That night, and every night after, instead of making use of the rooms they collapse together in one of the common areas, in a nest of hastily put together mattresses and even more blankets and pillows than they're pretty sure they had on Quesadilla island. People are curled together, masses of limbs and bodies thrown over everyone and holding, making contact with as many people as possible.

There is a divide, mostly by team, on the first night or two, even through pain and freedom it's too early to let go of the fact each team do not feel safe with the other team at their back. Though, Phil can't help but notice that Soulfire is spaced out evenly, even amongst their own.

Sure, several are curled together, but it's uniform and mostly only touching by held hands or sharing space but not touch. Bolas, on the other hand, are practically suffocating each other in their sleep with how tightly wound they are around each other, a normal sight, but it's somehow More now so many are in turmoil.

It makes a sort of sense when Phil finds out the blue team often had actual bed spaces and barracks set up for them, if not with beds then some other sort of material.

But Bolas was often too poor to risk using wool or supplies for beds and figured it was just easier and safer to stay close, so even the early days were spent piled on each other, reaching warmth and comfort in their team on roughly constructed blankets and hay bedding.

Soulfire was a team of their own, but not like Bolas. They were a brotherhood, where Bolas was a family. Not to say they didn't care for each other, it was clear they did, it was just a different dynamic was all.

But, the nights after, there's a noticeable spread as they get used to once again sharing space and lives with the other team, rekindle friendships from before Purgatory that were either put on hold or temporarily pushed aside. Soon they're one giant pile of comfort and safety.

They also unconsciously take watch from the first night, despite how safe they are it's too soon to break the habit, but it's made easier by how many people there are.

It was almost funny when the first watchmen of each team realized the other was awake, exchanging a nod but return to watching over their teams after the surprise leaves. Later nights, people on watch were still one from each team per shift, but they'd spend it talking quietly or playing silent games.

And over the coming days there are hard conversations, people sobbing in someone else's arms, fights, and nightmares that wake everyone up with the screaming.

People have to be stopped from hurting themselves or others, bitter words soothed and apologized for from grudges better left on the island. A lot of people have to be taken out of their own heads, and finally some of the more shell shocked people are brought around to lucidity.

Bad in particular takes days to stop staring blankly at the horizon to come uncurled from Dapper, who hasn't tried to really leave or disturb his father except for food and water to be shared, and is very tired from everything. Nobody blames Dapper for living, and are happy he's alive, but the other parents tend to avoid him just a bit when the sight is too much, and Dapper is very much also in shock.

They're very worried when Bad's memory starts to blank or when he gets confused, they think from a serious head wound and trauma he underwent, but cant do much then be there for him and hope he can heal from it.

But they have each other, and they're alive, and that has to be enough.

Then, after a time, they end up back on Quesadilla island.

They all spend the next few weeks still living/piled together, after undergoing vigorous examination and interrogation from the Federation, until they feel safer and can unlearn the habits born from fear and survival, specially Bolas who... let a lot of themselves go in order to survive what happened, and the feral need that came with it.

They then reunite with the people either pulled from Purgatory or those who never went, and most of the Purgatory-experienced people are absorbed into their habits and those unknowing watch, horrified, and try to help the best they can but often have problems connecting due to not being able to understand.

After they start to disperse, they live in groups or pairs for a while to keep watch or provide comfort, some people even making temporary, or even permeant, new homes while they figure out their new place in the world. It's common to have giant sleepovers at a newly constructed building, they fortify and kit out to be safe and comfortable.

Everybody lives, for their own reasons, healthily or unhealthily, for sad or good reasons.

And then, one day, the eggs are returned to them. Sleeping, in bad condition in a hospital, but they are alive and they are home, even with new Eggs too. And they are thankful they are alive to see their kids, and live for them too.

Please, if you did enjoy, reblog and just not like. Likes do nothing and it's kinda disheartening to see like 50 likes and 4 reblogs only for it to die because nobody else sees it after the first 3 days. I'd appreciate it greatly! <3

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deputyrook · 1 year ago

Text

Impressions- 2/? Mark Hoffman x Psychic!Reader

(Repost after I accidentally deleted my tumblr 😭)

PART 1.

You're a reluctant psychic. He's a detective. And a serial killer.

(Can I make it any more obvious?)

Word count: 3498

WARNINGS: Gaslightling, corruption, stockholm syndrome, some drug use (painkillers), blackmail, power imbalance, abusive dynamics, overt threatening, general Saw-levels of horror.

this fic is kind of goofy, because I'm writing it for fun and not taking it super seriously! enjoy 💕

“Mark didn’t hit on you, did he?” Kerry asks over the phone, a note of disgust in her voice, “If he did, I’ll kick his ass. Though… you didn't exactly look uncomfortable when you fell into his arms yesterday. Am I wrong?”

Sometimes, you wondered how Kerry could be so oblivious.

You swallow a handful of painkillers before you answer her, washing them down with a swig of stale soda that’s been sitting out on your counter.

“He's, what, ten years older than us?” You ask, setting down the can and playing with the cord of your telephone.

“That’s not an answer,” Kerry teases, “And he’s early forties, I think. Hey, I won’t stop you. I'll sure as hell judge you, but I won't stop you.”

The events of the prior evening feel surreal now, in the morning light of the next day. Detective Mark Hoffman hasn’t contacted you, and if you didn’t have his phone number saved in your cell, you would have thought the entire car ride had been a bad dream.

You can’t help but second guess yourself now- had he ever actually admitted to being an accomplice? What if he was just a defensive asshole, and you’d misinterpreted everything again? The doubts creep in, now that your visions have been chased away, back into hiding in the recesses of your mind.

“Not interested,” you mutter. “I wasn’t feeling great last night, you know that. I barely remember getting home.”

Kerry’s tone sobers at that, and you hear her sigh. “Yeah. Sorry about that. I know you don’t like doing that, but we were completely out of leads.”

“And you still are,” you note, “I didn’t dream of anything useful last night, by the way. Total void.” If you’re lucky, you’ll never have another vision about the Jigsaw murders, though you suspect you’ve been plunged headfirst into the thick of it.

The painkillers will keep the flashes at bay, at least for now. The rest will come to you, jumbled and nonsensical, when it’s least convenient.

“Not entirely. But how are you feeling?” Kerry asks. She’s never been the best at heart-to-hearts, or at fielding your psychic nonsense, but you can hear the genuine concern in her voice for you. You wish you could tell her- the killer she hunts is right there, in the office across the hall, she could be in danger- but with the potential risk to both her and you, it’s just not worth it.

Not unless you manage to get your hands on some hard evidence of Hoffman’s involvement.

Years of dealing with a surrealist-nightmare-kaleidoscope for a brain had forced you to become patient. You could bide your time and wait carefully until an opportunity to steal some actual proof arose. Until then, you just had to keep breathing.

“Helloooo? Are you there?” Kerry’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Yeah, sorry Ally. You know how I get. I called in sick today, but I’m alright. I promise. Nothing some rest and relaxation can’t fix,” you try to smile, but you can’t hide the exhaustion in your voice.

“Good,” she says, resolute, “I won’t ask you to come in again. Not unless something else comes to you. But I won’t believe he’s dead. Not yet.” It doesn’t take psychic abilities to know she’s talking about Eric Matthews, nor to feel the regret she carries with her, punctuating her words.

“And you shouldn’t. You know my hit rate on alive-versus-dead isn’t always the best.” Kerry hums in consideration at your words, and after you both say your goodbyes to one another, you hang up the receiver of the phone.

Once again, you’re left in the silence of your lonely apartment- save for your cat, who brushes up against your leg with a purr. He reminds you so easily that it’s not just your life on the line, here. Would Jigsaw ever try to test a cat...? Reaching down to scratch behind his ears, you try to consider your next steps carefully.

But all it does is make your head hurt. You pluck an ice pack from your freezer and lay down on your sofa, holding it to your head with a soft groan.

You must fall back asleep at some point, because you’re woken up from a dreamless sleep by the ringing of your phone. You check your home phone, and then, realizing it’s not the culprit, rifle through your bag for your cell.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone as you flip it open, blinking awake.

“What, were you asleep? It’s the middle of the day,” Hoffman says.

“I called in sick. Got in pretty late last night, and I didn’t sleep the best,” You deadpan. Without being right next to him, it’s easier to keep your cool and not get flustered.

“We should talk. Let’s get dinner,” he says, “Six-o-clock. You know Eve’s Diner? On Newhaven street- with the neon sign?”

Your stomach drops. It didn’t seem like he was just asking you out politely. When was the last time you got dinner with a man, anyway? His tone is so casual that it makes you want to squirm.

“Yeah, I know the place. It's pretty close by, right?” At least in public, he wouldn’t be able to do anything overtly threatening to you. It didn’t seem like there was any use in arguing with him, or telling him you weren’t feeling up to it. He knows your address, and he apparently knows Jigsaw. That's enough to secure your compliance.

“Good. I’ll see you there, then.” And he hangs up the phone.

Your head throbs, but it’s lessened in severity since the morning. You consider taking another batch of painkillers, but decide against it. If you’re meeting Hoffman for dinner, it might be better to stay sharp.

—

The sight of Mark Hoffman, sitting in a diner booth, would be almost comical if it wasn’t so nerve-wracking. He’s stirring some sugar into his coffee, hunched against the wall, his hair smoothed back neatly and his police badge hanging around his neck. He looks tired, you think, but otherwise like a normal, upstanding member of society- if not one slightly too large and too dour for the diner table he’s seated at.

“Hi,” you say, sliding into the booth across from him.

He nods toward you in recognition, before leaning back in the seat. Mark looks at you, up and down, in silent surveyance. You stare back, studying him in return. Both of you size each other up, like the other is the dangerous one.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” He says, “And after some more thought, I’m not convinced. For all I know, maybe you’re workin’ with John Kramer. That seems more likely than you being psychic.”

Ah. You’ve gotten this reaction before. When someone, with time and consideration, doubles back to doubt your abilities. You couldn’t exactly blame him for that. Particularly for skeptics, it’s a hard pill to swallow that you have access to senses that they don’t.

Being accused of being a serial killer was new territory, however.

“I’m not working with Jigsaw,” you sputter, keeping your voice quiet. The diner isn’t too busy, and you’re seated in a corner away from other patrons, but it’s still public enough that you want to be careful. “Shouldn’t you know I’m not?”

He squints at you, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying or not.

“You tell me. You said there were four. Jigsaw, Amanda, myself- according to you- and so who’s the fourth? If it’s not you.” He sounds impatient. You blink at him, trying to process where he’s coming from. And then, it hits you. He doesn’t know.

For a second, you consider trying to play it off like you are the fourth apprentice. Maybe then, he’d trust you more directly with information that you could use against him. But then, you re-evaluate. Lying to a mass murderer was probably a bad idea. Lying to a cop was arguably worse.

“Well, it’s not me. But yeah, there’s at leastfour involved that I picked up on. Four main...signatures,” You pause, before continuing. “So that’s why you want me to tell you about what I sense. Even you don’t know what he’s planning, or everyone who’s involved.”

“I’ve been on this case since the beginning. Of course I wanna know. Especially since you’re out here accusing me,” He remarks, taking a sip of his coffee before continuing, “Kerry didn’t act any different toward me this morning. Good. Keeping your theories to yourself was smart.”

“Yes, lest you start actually convincing me you’re not Jigsaw, let me not forget how you threatened me last night,” You mumble, crossing your arms in front of your chest protectively.

“You pouting about it?” He asks, teasing, a smirk just barely edging onto his face, “C’mon. Show me your trick. How do you do it?” He beckons you closer, and you find yourself leaning in across the table. Like you’re sharing a secret with him.

“It’s not like I’m getting visions of the future, per se,” You try to explain, “It’s more like... hyper intuition. I get emotions, mostly. It’s an extreme version of empathy. Sometimes I get flashes of imagery from the past, present, and future, but it’s usually mixed up so I can’t tell which is which. Mainly, I just trust my gut. Which isn’t often wrong- but my interpretation of what I’m seeing can be off. Has been.”

“Hyper-intuition, huh?” He says, mulling it over, “Tell me something else about me, then. Prove it.”

You swallow uncomfortably. “I uh, need to be touching you.”

Mark raises his eyebrows at you. Before he can say anything mocking, the waitress comes by, filling both of your coffee cups. She takes your orders quickly, as though picking up on the vibe that you both want to be left alone. When she leaves, Mark spreads his hands in a gesture as if to say, do your thing, then.

Gently, you reach out and take his hands in yours. Rough, calloused, and strong. You try not to think about it as you close your eyes, and allow the gate to open for the second time in two days.

The chattering in the diner fades away into the background as your intuition takes hold, clouding out your other five senses like the moon passing over the sun in a total eclipse. First, there’s just darkness. Even the sensation of Mark’s skin against yours fading to a dull buzz. Then, sensations begin to spawn, bubbling up from somewhere else.

From the man seated across from you, you think.

“Strawberries,” you murmur, the taste of fresh, wild berries being the first thing that comes to you, sweet and tart, “I think they were picked wild, by mindful fingers. Yours are older, but never as gentle. Her small hands were always more careful than yours, never crushing the berries like you did.”

It’s a kind, well-loved memory -you assume- the impression coming in easy and unambiguous. The next is more muddled.

“Ah- pain. There’s noise, it’s discordant and loud,” You wince, squeezing Mark’s hands. You tilt your head, trying to make out the source, but all you get is scraps of yelling, fighting, shivering hands, the smell of rain.

It melts then, into that feeling again. The deep, unending well of misery. Loss, in its purest form. Utter loneliness, vast like an unending ocean.

“It’s like the sun went out,” you whisper, voice cracking. Your heart is breaking. The depth of your pain is nearly unbearable, and it makes you want to pull back and disconnect. “It’s like all the light’s been snuffed from this world. Alone.”

“Yeah,” Mark’s voice confirms, calm, quiet and sombre, “You know why that is, don’t you?”

You frown, hands trembling. The smell of blood rises, pungent and sickening. Blood, blood, so much blood. It smells so strong that you can taste it. Then something else- formaldehyde. The words leave your mouth before you can register what they mean.

“He took her from me,” You murmur hoarsely, a pure conduit for the feeling. Dimly, you’re aware of hands squeezing yours back, too tight.

Then, the rage. The despair. An energy trapped, like a feral animal in an enclosure. Desperate to make things right again, to make the world right, with no way to do it that makes sense.

Trapped, trapped, trapped. Starving. Alone again.

You’re lost in the feeling before Mark’s voice pulls you back.

“He deserved what he got,” he says, and you’re redirected. The sun is still gone, the world is still cold. Justice is a fleeting concept, a principle that isn’t achieved until you make it happen.

The world is so cold without the sun, but he died screaming for taking her. That’s justice enough.

And then, a finality- a sense of purpose.

"They all deserve it," you say.

You open your eyes, and let go of his hands. Hoffman’s expression is hard to read as you settle back in the booth. The despair still lingers over you, like a chill that’s seeped into your bones.

“That your thought, or mine?” He asks finally. “You must have felt a lot of it over the years. Other people’s pain.”

“Sure,” you reply, “Everyone’s got it. Life isn’t fair.”

“Not unless you make it fair,” Mark counters, “You can’t tell me he didn’t deserve to die like that for what he did.”

“Can you just tell me?” You ask quietly, “So I can get the full picture, no missing pieces of the puzzle. The loss...was your sister? He killed her?”

Mark thinks about it for a second. He looks like he’s going to refuse you, not responding for so long that you wonder if he’s deliberately ignoring you.

Your food arrives before he answers, the waitress bringing your plates and setting them down in front of you both. Mark's ordered a cheeseburger and fries, the all-American classic diner food; you a club sandwich, though your appetite has evaporated since you've arrived here. And after yesterday, it was barely present to begin with.

Then finally, after you both have started to eat, he speaks.

“My sister’s ex-boyfriend murdered her. Seth Baxter. A sick, abusive fuck. He was convicted, got life in jail. Took a couple of years, but he finally went away for it. Well, he filed an appeal. His new lawyer said that the jury was tainted by the evidence of his history of domestic assaults on women, that the evidence was improperly admitted and ‘prejudicial’ to his case. After five years, the case was successfully appealed... and he went free,” A feeling of disgust and rage twists in you, and you can’t tell whether it’s Hoffman’s or yours.

“So you...”

“Jigsaw killed him,” Mark answers, “Cut him in half. He was already dating someone new when he was picked up. Tell me that's not fair.”

The words hang in the air, and you take them in. You’re starting to learn to read Mark’s face better, you think, because you can detect just a hint of smugness in his expression. You try to determine how you feel about this, but your feelings are still all tangled up in Hoffman’s. Extricating them is difficult.

“So he deserved it,” You say finally, “Jigsaw’s not just a vigilante. He kidnaps people who are- who are addicted to drugs, or who only hurt themselves, and he makes them play in these sick games. It's not right,” You can’t believe you’re arguing the philosophy of Jigsaw with one of the murderers himself. It seems unbelievable.

Mark actually rolls his eyes at you.

“It’s either people who deserve it, or people who don’t deserve their lives to begin with,” He murmurs, “think about it.”

Then you remember the feeling you’d gotten before, at the police station. The deep, dark depths of satisfaction. A kind of beast in the heart, ugly and hungry and grinning. The thought that you might have inadvertently given it some purchase in your own mind freaks you the hell out.

“Easy for you to say,” you whisper, the fear keeping your voice barely audible, “You like watching people hurt.”

Mark doesn’t deny it- maybe he sees no use in doing so, when you already know better. He looks at you coldly, calculating.

“Does it matter?” He says, “Keep your word, and you won’t be on the receiving end.”

You take a sip of your water nervously, looking around the diner. Though still not exceptionally busy, you’ve both nearly finished your food (well, Mark has, you've picked away at yours), and more people are trickling in the door. If you continue to talk here, it may become more difficult to avoid being overheard.

Wouldn’t that be a good thing, for you?

“Let’s finish up,” Mark says, as though he’s been reading your mind, “We can meet up again later. I'm going to ask you more about this mystery fourth person. So keep your eyes open," he pauses, and huffs. "Or closed, I guess."

"And Kerry will be fine?" You ask, insistently, "She's a good person, Hoffman."

"Is she?" He challenges, "she wasn't exactly discreet with Matthews. And she knew he was dirty. As far as I can tell, you're her only friend."

"Oh, and you didn't know?" You snap back, defensive, "If she deserves to be tested, we all do."

Mark stands, putting on his coat. "Yeah. Or most, at least." He replies in agreement.

"Come on," he adds, his hand on the small of your back again. You can't tell if it's meant to be possessive, threatening, or whether he's done it without even thinking about it. Perhaps surprisingly, it doesn't feel as uncomfortable this time around. "I'll walk you home. Wouldn't want anything to happen to you."

A worm has been planted in your mind, and it feeds.

Over the next week, you feel more torn than you think you've ever felt in your life. Mark Hoffman's words bore into your mind, repeating over and over, with the echos of his pain piercing through you in random intervals. You flit between feeling angry at the situation you're in, and wanting to go to Kerry and lay it all out on the table, to a strange feeling of camaraderie with Mark Hoffman.

It's a downside you've always had to reading someone, and inviting them in- you feel connected with them, permanently. Once you see through their eyes, and feel what they feel, it's hard for you to just pull away again. A piece of them remains.

It was like you were being tested yourself. By connecting with the worst possible person, you were pushing yourself- how strained could the connection be, how adverse to your own interest, while you still feel like you're on the same side?

You lie awake at night, replaying your conversation with Mark in your mind. Thinking of all the hurt you'd ever felt, yours and everyone's, echoing forever.

Needless to say- you weren't doing great. And the fact that you weren't sleeping well didn't help.

Dreams came frequently after that shared dinner with Mark Hoffman. You dreamt alternately of horrible panic, the feeling of being trapped, and physical pain that makes you wake up sobbing. So many images form in your mind that it's hard to keep track- scalpels, keys, case files, teeth, distorted statues, the smell of antiseptic.

You text it all to Mark as it comes to you. Anyone looking at your text log would think you were both insane.

But still, you tell him your dreams, and he listens. You theorize about the fourth person together, like you're trying to solve the case. You trade tidbits, make suggestions, and rule out others.

You kind of... like texting him.

---

[2:33AM - Outgoing] Just woke up with the image of a blonde woman in my head. I don't know who she is.

[2:37AM - Incoming] could be jill tuck. ex-wife.

[2:39AM - Incoming] Photo Message

[2:42AM - Outgoing] Nope, sorry. Not her.

[2:45AM - Incoming] i thought maybe she was the 4th

[2:47AM - Outgoing] Blonde woman didn't feel like the 4th. Looked like a scientist of some kind? Idk. Wearing a white lab coat.

[2:49AM - Outgoing] I also got a red room with a bunch of pictures. Like Polaroids maybe? Hung up I think. Not sure if it was connected to the blonde woman.

[2:50AM - Incoming] that ones a red herring. already happened

[2:52AM - Outgoing] Ugh

[2:56AM - Outgoing] How long is this going to last?

[2:57AM - Incoming] what

[2:59AM - Outgoing] You keeping me as your pet psychic

[3:00AM - Incoming] you think i'm planning to stop?

[3:01AM - Incoming] you'd better get used to me.

[3:02AM - Incoming] remember. delete these.

[3:04AM - Outgoing] Yeah, yeah. Do you ever sleep?

[3:05AM - Incoming] when i'm not being woken up by txts

[3:08AM - Incoming] lets meet this weekend

[3:08AM - Incoming] I want to show you something

(author's note: the true dynamic is emerging! and yes, I had to go on a little sidebar on how seth baxter's sentence could have actually been reversed. i'm a prosecutor, I can't help myself.)

TAG LIST: @icarusinstatic @honimello @haven-is-happy @thebrideofcaliban

NEXT CHAPTER

#mark hoffman #slasher fic #saw franchise #slasher x reader #saw movies #sawposting #costas mandylor #detective hoffman #mark hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x oc #my writing #sorry again for the repost

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yuyu1024 · 11 months ago

Text

Wallflower

Pairings: Mingi × y/n

Genre/tags: fluff and sweet. College au, classmates became partners for a project. He got interested first

Warning: cursing, mention of weight, fluff [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 4.1k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Repost. I accidentally deleted my acct. 🥲

Likes and reblogs is much appreciated ♥️

My day started a bit hectic. I woke up late, didn't catch the bus on time and then had a hard time getting to my classes as school today is crowded. The university is having a weeklong festival which does not affect the classes that much but it affects my timetable. My classes are from building A to C, then C to D then to A most of the time which means a lot of walking or running around to get in class. But having groups of people in line to something or all waiting for elevators will definitely ruin my routine.

I can't be pissed about it because it's not their fault that I got classes with this difficult schedule. All I can do is hope and pray I don't be late.

"Ugh!" I slide the door open for my last subject for the day, catching my breathe. "I'm 20minutes early.. finally!" I drag myself inside the empty room and make my way towards one of the seats near the window. "I'm so tired..." I sigh heavily.

I place my bag under the table while I take my ipad and pen over, preparing my notes for the class. But since I'm early, I might as well relax a bit. So I started playing music from my phone. It's only loud enough for me to hear. Or so I thought...

"What trash music is that?" A deep ass voice suddenly filled up the quiet room.

I pause the song and look around to see who just spoke. There he was, sitting at the seat at the back, just 4 rows from me. His head is lowered, he must've been sleeping.

"Oh! Sorry! I didn't know someone was here." I hide my phone in a hurry.

I could hear him grunt as he stretches. But I don't dare to look back again. I'm terrified.

"You didn't answered my question..."

Suddenly, I hear the chair moving. He's standing up. The thumps of his footsteps gets louder and louder as he comes closer to me.

"I asked, what trash music was that?" He then pulls the chair beside me and sits down.

I'm still not looking at him. But based on what I can see on my peripheral view, he's huge!

"Ahm... Do you mean the genre or... the band?" My eyes is glued on my table.

"Band." He then leans his arm on the table and rest his face on his palm.

"I think... their band name is....stargaze or something... they're a band from another university."

"And you like them?"

I frown at the question, confused. "Ahm... they're alright."

"Alright?"

"Yeah...?" Then I turn my eyes to look at him. A sudden shock slaps me in my face. Fuck, he's gorgeous! Sharp eyes, sharp nose, pink and plump lips. He's very charismatic! But he's hiding most of his beauty under his cap. Well, its a cool look. Makes him look hot but yeah. I wonder what he looks like without it. Where his hair is all loose.

"Ahm... I only listen to this one song... coz' my roommate introduced me to this song." I added

"I see." His eyes then studies me.

"Why?"

"Nothing..." he then looks away and lay his head on his arm. But his face is still towards my direction. "Wake me up when our professor calls my name. Okay?"

"Wait. You're in this class?"

"Of course. Why do you think I'm here?"

"But... I haven't seen you before?"

"Maybe, you weren't just looking..." then he takes a deep breathe before closing his eyes.

"W-wait!" I whisper, "what's your name?"

"Song Mingi." He mumbles, eyes closed.

So random.

Why did this guy seat beside me and asking me to do him a favor? I really don't remember him being in my class before. Odd. But weirdly enough I agreed to his request and I did it. He said he was present when the professor calls his name. People whirl their heads to him when he spoke. They all knew him [except for me]. Then he just went back to sleep like it's nothing.

Why do I don't remember him?

Maybe, I'm just that kind of a wallflower, who also doesn't give a fudge on whatever people is doing around me as long as they don't bother me. So, in the end, I don't notice him. Especially if he's like this since the semester started. Just sleeping.

A few more minutes have passed, he shifts in his sleep. He got a tiny bit closer to me. I don't mind as long as I can still write on my ipad and not wake him up. I don't want to bother him. Maybe he's sleepy because he was not feeling well or something. But then, I felt sudden chills from my legs up when his finger slightly touched my free hand while I was writing something. I am left handed so, it was my right hand that he touched.

He is uncontious. Why am I bothered by that?

"Ms. Y/n!" The professor suddenly calls out my name making me jolt a little.

"Yes?"

"Who's that guy again? The one sleeping beside you."

"Ahm... he's... Song Mingi."

"Okay. Your friend there will be your partner okay?"

"Sir.. what? Wait. Partner for what?"

"Are you not listening to me the whole time?"

I was. He was talking about the project of us choosing any stories from movies or book that we can do a report on how we understand the story on our own and portray it. Like, what woukd you do if you are the character type thingy. If we woukd agree on the leads decisions not. That sort of thing.

"I am... sorry..."

"Okay. Just let him know about it." He says then the bell rings. "Okay, class will just email you more details about the project. Okay! Class dismissed see you next week."

Oh crap. What a day!

Students are one by one getting out of the room, some are still packing their things but the guy next to me is still asleep.

"Hey..." I quietly say, "Class is over..." He's not waking up. "Hey..." I reach out to his hand and gently caress the back of my hand onto his so I will not startle him. "Mingi..." I whisper

He slowly opens his eyes and looks straight back at me. "Hi..." His voice is so raspy and deep.

My eyes widens by the sudden realization that we are eye to eye and our face is just a more than a feet apart.

"Class is over." I repeat moving away. "We are partners now..." I add as I put my things back to my bag.

He snorts a laugh. "You're so blunt. I just slept beside you and now we are partners."

"Huh?"

"Like... I mean..." he stretches his arms out and then puts one arm around me. "I don't mind... you seem nice..."

"What are you talking about? I meant partners for out project."

"Oh." He pouts. "What a bummber. But I guess... we can get to know each other then..." he winks at me and then stands up, picking up his bag. "See you around, y/n!"

"Wait!"

He halts and turns to face me.

"Here..." I'm handing him my small notebook. "You slept the whole class so... I made you notes. You can use it to our project."

He smiles and takes the notebook from my hand. "Thanks."

"Okay... he will email details later today. But just in case... if you can... just meet me in the library at 5pm. I repeat.... If you can only. I'm always there monday to friday. I'll be doing our project there..."

"Wait. You're telling me your schedule? Instead of asking or giving me your number?"

I scratch my head, "yeah... coz I don't want to bother you? I guess..."

"Why not? We are partners... right?"

"Well..."

"Is it because I look like I don't care?" He laughs

"Hmm... a little?" I look away, smiling.

"I get it." He then takes a pen out and tears a piece of paper from the notebook. "Here is my number. Text or call me. And if you get shy and can't... or I didn't respond. I'm either in the rooftop sleeping or with my bandmates. You cab pick me up at the Music club room, 6th floor."

I take the piece of paper and stare at it. "Okay."

"Okay. See you."

"Ahm," I glance up to him, he's still smiling at me. "See you."

I first saw him Monday, it's now wednesday and still no show. I told him my schedule right? Is he waiting for me to text or call him? Ugh this is so frustrating. I'm such an introvert. I can't even dial his number even though he said I can.

How can we finish the project? It's due next week! Ugh.

I should be brave enough to contact him. I need him. It's our grades were talking about here!

That's it! I'm calling him!

I dialed his number, once..... twice..... until I've tried calling him for like 5 times. No answer. I gave up for a few minutes but then remembered he also told me he's usual spots where he hang out.

I first went to the music club. I assumed he was there because of the time. This is the usual free time of the students and if he's a member of the music club he must've been practicing to for the festival's battle of the bands this week.

But I had no luck finding him there. I asked his friends if they know where he could he be and none of them have an idea.

"He's usually missing." One guy said

"He's always missing!" The othet one added

"We just tell him when and where to show up... we don't even know his number. We just leave him messages through his sns every now and then." One explained.

Gosh. What is he? And why does his friends and bandmates don't know his number? Is the number he gave me even his?

Last resort, the rooftop!

This is the most I've walked this whole month. God! My thick thights can't do this! I'm so glad my fit is always casual and comfy because I can't imagine myself dressing like other girls from this school, skirt and heels and climbing these amount of stairs.

"Wow!" I gasp as I push the door open.

I am catching my breath so much. This guy is making me do cardio like shit. He forgot to mention which rooftop he's in! We have like 5 buildings here!

"Are you alright?"

I look ahead and see a six foot tall man, standing in the corner across me. "Yah!" My voice cracks calling him out. "I've been looking for you!"

"Really?" He raises his brow, a hint of smile spreads acorss his lips. "I thought you didn't need me. You never called.

"I did!" I walk over to him and show him my call history.

"Ah..." he then shifted in his position asking me to stand beside him. "Sorry. I was asleep... I just woke up."

He's wearing an all black outfit. Same vibes as last time. Hip and charistmatic. Instead of a cap, now he's wearing a beanie.

"Oh wow..." I got taken aback by the view. I've never seen the university at this point of view.

"You've never been here?" He asks. I shake my head to say No. "Why?"

"Why would I?"

"No reason... just... hang out... with friends maybe or someone?"

"Well... I don't have friends... sort of... I don't hang out with them often and I don't have... a someone." I answer as I tip toe, sight seeing.

"How come?"

"Ahm...I don't know..."

"Hmm..."

"Anyways... Should we do our project here or...?"

"Do you mind doing it here?"

I look around and see that no one is around and there are old tables and desk that we can use. "I'm cool. It's more quiet here than the library." I smile

I march towards the other side where the tables and chairs are. I pull out my things and books I borrowed from the library to use for our project.

We stayed quiet for a few hours. I am impressed at how serious he is reading and searching online. I misjudged him. Maybe if I had the courage to approached him yesterday we could've done way more.

Yawning, "I'm tired." He says, closing the book.

"Are you going to sleep again?"

He looks at me as he leans his back lazily and spreads his leg apart. "Don't worry... I won't."

I smiled and continued writing on my ipad.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." I answer without looking

"What are you doing later?"

"Hmm... go back to the library and return the books... then probably go back to my apartment..."

"Do you have a curfew?"

"Curfew?"

"Yeah... with your parents."

"No, I don't. My parent's are abroad."

"I see..." then he pulls my ipad away from me. "Can you come with me? Later?"

"What?"

"I'll be playing later... battle of the bands...1st round...can you come and watch me?"

"Ahm..."

"Please? I am your friend now right? We should be... we are classmates..."

"I... guess...?"

He takes the books and notebooks off the desk and starts to pack them all. "Let's bring these back to the library... then you can come with me."

"Already?! The battle of the band starts at 7pm... it's just 4pm."

He smirks. "Just... come with me."

What the heck is going on with me? Why am I just following him? Why am I agreeing to anything he's saying? Why? He's even carrying my bag for me. This is very unsusual of me.

"Here are the book she borrowed." He says to the lady in the reception.

I stand behind him, looking around. No one seems to care but I feel weird. He's holding my hand while he talks to the lady. He could've let go of me when we arrived right? Why is he still holding my hand.

"Ahm, sorry to bother you again." He adds, "Is the short cut at the end of the library hall accessible? They renovated it right? Can we go pass there so we can transfer straight to the next building?"

"Ah that. Sorry, it's still close. No one goes there besides the facilitators to check every now and then for the construction."

"Ah I see. So, no one... goes there?"

"As of now this week yes. No. People are busy for the festival so they stopped the construction for now."

"I see... thank you."

"You're welcome."

He turns around, lips curved into the most cutest smile. "Are you okay?" He asks

"Ahm... yes... but..." I'm dazed now.

"Your hand..." he looks down at our hands. "Why are you nervous?"

"I don't know... should I not be nervous?"

"It depends." He starts to walk again, pulling me with him. "Did you already met my band members?"

"Yes."

"Good."

***

I am back with the music club team. Stuck with them in the waiting room which is filled with just pure male energy. Every one is so hyped and eager to perform. The vocalist are preping their voices and practicing their songs while the others are checking their instruments a few more times before their set.

While me, on the other hand sitting down in the sofa, knees together and hands on my thighs like I am getting scolded later. Fudge! I am so out of my comfort zone right now. I've only met them one time earlier and now I can hear them bicker and just blabber unecessary things that I should not be hearing. Why did Mingi brought me here? (~.~)

"Look at him! Show off!" One member yells

My eyes goes to where they're all looking. It's Mingi. And he's freaking SHIRTLESS. (O.O)

"Shut up." He says as he takes a sleeveless shirt wear to go with his ripped jeans.

"Everyone!" A professor opens the door. "You'll be next after this one band so get ready!"

"Yeah!" Everyone cheers.

"Oh." The professor suddenly sees me from afar. "Excuse me... I thought we agreed on no girlfriends or boyfriends are allowed in here?"

Wait. Me? Girlfriend?

I stand up to my defense. "Sorry... I'm not anyone's g--"

"She's with me." Mingi stand in front of me. "We had a project together. We had to finish it so we had to do some of the work here."

He partially lied.

"Ah, okay. But she needs to go. Only contestants are allowed here and their club members."

"I understand." I weakly answer. And as soon as the professor left, "I need to go now..." I mumble behind him as I hook my bag over my shoulder.

I walk pass him already when he catches me by my wrist. "You will watch right?"

I smile. "I will. I promise."

"Okay." He smiles, his thumb caressing skin

"Mingi? Smiling?" One murmurs

"Goodluck." I whisper before I go.

I shut the door close and briskly walked away from the area. My brain is about to explode. What the fudge is going on? Am I dreaming today?

"Y/n?"

I stop walking as I heard someone call my name.

"It is you!"

It's Kristy. My old classmate in from last semester. She transfered this semester to a different university because she broke up with her ex and she don't want to see him ever again. So she decided to leave.

"Hi!" I shyly wave back, thinking that she will probably not approach me but she did. She even hugged me. She's very into skinship and I'm not so it feels weird.

"What are you doing here?" She asks

"I... Well..."

"Did you just came out from the contenstants area? Are you dating a someone competing?"

"Dating.... I... no... I don't think so?"

We start to chat a little bit, to catch up from what we've been up to lately. And while we're talking, I keep noticing how guys heads keep turning. They're probably looking at her. Kristy is hot and cute. She is really pretty too and fashionable so, I can't blame guys if they all like her.

Ugh. This hurts my feelings. Because, if you look at me and then her. Hay, they probably wish to go blind than see me. I'm a chubby, short and I don't dress very girly. I know I look fine and normal but in this world, being in my level is like I'm not even existing. This is the harsh truth.

This is one reason, I don't have much friends nor even dated. 😬

Then the screams suddenly got louder. People start to gather in the floor to go closer the stage. Oh right! Mingi's band is next!

I said my goodbyes to Kristy and went separate ways. I was in a hurry. I didn't go with the crowd but I decided to climb up the bleachers on the sides so I can see them clearly and less human.

The members one by one gets on stage. The cheers are consitent. I never knew they are this famous. But holy smokes! When Mingi came in, the screams got violently LOUD-LOUD.

HE'S SO HOT!

I'M DROOLING!

HOW CAN HE BE SINGLE ??

CAN WE TRY TO GE THIS NUMBER?

so on and so forth...

Girls are literally going gaga over him.

I can even see Kristy and her friends from my spot, going crazy.

But them aside, the music the band is playing is definitely vibe. I could listen to this song everyday if I have too. Even the lyrics is so beautiful! I hope the crowd hears it too and not just thirst over men playing instruments.

After the battle of the bands, I stayed where I am. I watch the crowd disappear and slowly spreads out. They will probably all be hungry now and find food stalls to eat.

Me? Well, I don't know.

I look at the time. It's pass 9pm now. I should probably get going now. If I leave now, I could still catch the bus 9:30pm bus.

I should right? I'm not waiting for anything.

Yeah. I should go.

"Where are you going?" Mingi suddenly appears in front of me, making me yelp. "Sorry... I didn't mean to scare you."

"What are you doing here?" I ask

"I'm here to see you..."

"Ahm, why?"

"What do you mean why?" He looks confused with my question.

Dude. Your confusing me. We are just partners in class. We were just supposed to be studying. Now I am here , still in school at night, watched a bunch of bands and waited for you when I don't even have to because... I don't know!

"Tell me what you're thinking..." he says as he takes my bag from me.

"Nothing..." I quietly answer. "But yeah... great show.. the crowd loved it."

"Did you?"

"Hmm?"

"The songs... like... the last one... did you like it?"

"I did. I loved it actually."

"That's a relief." He smiles.

I try to take my bag back from him, "I need to go. I need to catch the bus home."

"Oh." He looks a little disappointed.

"I have an early class tomorrow. I need to crash now or else..."

"Can you please stay a little longer?" He takes my hand, sending shivers. "Please..."

I pull my hand away. "What are you doing?"

"Touching you..." he takes my hand again and then suddenly kisses the back of my hand.

What is he doing? We just met last monday!? I'm not complaining though. No guy had ever given me attention like him before... but... is this even real?

"Come with me?" He says, almost a whisper

"Ahm..."

"Don't worry... I'll take you home. I have a car."

"Okay..."

Here I am again. Dazed. Like I'm under some spell. Whatever he says, I just say yes and listen. Is this the effect of having a dry ass lovelife?

"You know, I would pay a money just to know what you're thinking." He says as we walk. "I feel like... you say a lot in your mind than you speak..."

I blush. "I do..."

"Whenever you're comfortable... just talk... I'll listen."

"Why though?"

"Because, I'm curious..."

"Why?"

He laughs, "You always ask me... why..."

"Because it's odd."

"Odd?"

"We just met last monday..."

"So?"

"Well... one... you are holding my hand very comfortably since earlier... and second... we suddenly became friends like you invited me to your show and..."

Both of us stop in front of the library door.

"And...?"

"And... why are we here?" I look around. "It's closed already. You want to read a book at this hour?"

"Sshh... lower your voice."

He unlocks the door with the key he had. We entered the dark room. I barely see anything. I just rely on him. I follow where he takes me.

"Y/n...?"

"Hmm?"

"Do you... trust me?" He whispers. I could feel his breathe on my ear. "Y/n...?"

I look in front of me, squinted my eyes and trying to see with the minimal light coming from outside is giving, what's in front of us.

"A door? Is this... the short cut...?"

"You... haven't...answered me yet..." I stiffen as I feel his breath at the back of my neck. His plump lips lightly brushing on my skin is already making me melt. "Y/n... do you trust me...?"

I take a deep breathe and try to slower the beat of my heart. "I know... I should not... but..."

He spins me around, his hand on my chin "but...?"

"I do... trust you..."

I could hear his smile. "Can... you be mine?"

End....😬✌🏻

The crowd is loving our set. I'm glad that all our practice and hardwork to compose these songs are all worth it.

But... why does it feel empty still. Like, yes I am happy that people loves our new song but I need to know her reaction. Does she like it? I want to know if she likes the song I made because of her. My wallflower

The girl... I've been eyeing since the semester started...

The quiet girl... who thinks no one ever notices her...

I do.... I notice her... I see her... I only see her... I can't take my eyes away from her...

This is my first time experiencing this... is this what Love at first sigh actually feels?

Oh! There! On the bleachers. I can see her now. (^^,)

#ateez smut #mingi smut #mingi x reader #ateez mingi #song mingi #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #ateez x female reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #atz x reader #atz x y/n #atz fanfic #atz smut #atz mingi

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dovesintherain · 1 year ago

Text

butterfly kisses

word count: 2.6k

warnings: fluff, kissing, butterflies?

an: hi :) so i accidentally deleted my other account so im reposting everything on this new one, bare with me please ! im very sorry for the confusion and inconvenience !

your quiet morning turns into tender moments.

Everything was warm. That was the only way to describe what you believed to be the most perfect morning you were graciously given.

As you roused from sleep the first thing you noticed was how quiet it was. The rain that was relentlessly tapping at your window through the night had finally stopped, and in its place was the low glow of the sun as it began its journey into the sky. The sunrise had barely started and you considered going back to sleep, but the past couple days left you with little to no time for yourself so you chose to take this gift of freedom in stride. After peeling yourself out of bed, you took a quick shower and began to get ready for the day. Before leaving the confines of your room you grabbed one of your spare blankets in your closet and headed downstairs. It hadn’t been so nice outside for so long you thought it was a shame to waste it, opting to spend your morning laying by the lake that neighboured the compound.

As you rounded the corner of the lower level you spotted someone in the kitchen. The flash of red hair told you everything. Natasha had always been an early riser. She had also always been one to stay up late so you often found yourself worrying if she even slept. You knew she heard you before you had even entered the space, unsurprisingly. It crossed your mind that her sensitivity to her surroundings might be the reason for her lack of sleep. That quickly vanished as you took in her appearance as you approached her. Her hair in an intricate braid going down her back, messy from sleep. Face bare of any makeup and a small smile gracing her features. She stood leaning against the counter in what you believed to be her sleep clothes, soft gray shorts and a black tank-top. You thought that she had never looked more beautiful.

“Morning.” Her voice laced with sleep echoed softly through the kitchen.

You returned her sentiment as you approached her and stopped standing on the other side of the large island in the center of the room.

“Going somewhere?” She spoke as she gestured to the folded blanket resting in your arms.

“I was going to go lay by the lake for a bit, enjoy the weather while it lasts.” You paused for a moment and spoke your next words carefully. “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.” You focused on reducing the shakiness in your voice while trying not to sound too hopeful in your invitation.

“Sure.” She said with such ease that you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Thirsty?” She asked as she pushed herself from the counter and made her way to the fridge.

As she opened the door she turned her head to you ready to receive an answer. You nodded and her smile grew as she turned back towards the open door, eyes scanning for a beverage that she deemed suitable for your morning picnic. You assumed she had found something as she reached in and pulled out a small pitcher of lemonade. She turned towards you as her smile slowly turned into a smirk.

“Isn’t that Wandas?” You asked with your voice tinged with amusement.

Natasha gave you a look that said “she wouldn’t miss it” and you both stifled your laughs as she grabbed two glasses from the cupboard before following you to the back door.

The spot you had in mind wasn’t too far from the compound. It was close to the water's edge under a large willow tree. You had found the spot a couple weeks back when you had an afternoon to yourself and made a mental note to return. Despite the close proximity and easy route, you had almost gotten lost due to how distracted you had become. The soft thud of steps on grass accompanied the light whistle of the morning breeze that glided through the trees. The sun had risen higher and allowed rays to shine through the gaps in the foliage above you, turning green leaves into gold and leaving a warm haze. A warmth that was most certainly reflected on your face as you glanced at the woman next to you.

You watched at how the impossible turned possible. Natasha had become even more beautiful. As you walked through the spots of sun she was illuminated in a way that could only be described as ethereal. You had to catch yourself from stumbling despite the relatively even terrain. Her eyes flickered to yours, amusement present in the way she looked at you. You had been caught staring. You quickly averted your gaze and became much more fascinated with your feet as they pushed shallow dents into the lush grass. Opting to avoid further embarrassment you chose to keep your eyes ahead for the remainder of the walk. You tried to conceal your nerves when the hand that held the two glasses began to brush lightly against yours. You felt your face grow warmer.

You joined the team almost a year ago now and you’re proud to say that you had a place among the family you found yourself in. You developed bonds and friendships that you grew to cherish and often reminded yourself of how lucky you were to have them. The team caught on quickly to the fact that you and Natasha had grown quite close, as it was unusual for the spy to allow anyone past arm's length. Clint found you in your room one evening and explained how rare and difficult it was for her. That made it all the more special to you. Your affection towards Natasha slowly revealed itself as a double edged sword. She had entrusted you with a friendship that you held so carefully in your heart, but your feelings grew into something you hadn’t expected. Fearful of shattering the relationship seemingly made of the finest glass due to your heart holding too tightly with only the intention of tenderness. You swallowed your true feelings out of fear that they were not reciprocated, deciding however close she allowed you to be would be a courtesy nonetheless.

You finally arrived at your spot. You slowed to a stop and took in the view in front of you. The sun had risen even further into the sky, allowing its glow to dance across the water as the waves rippled with the wind.

“Beautiful.” Natasha whispered under her breath. A statement that was probably meant to be private but the wind decided otherwise as it carried it to your ears.

You turned your head to look at her and shared a small smile before laying out the blanket. After kicking off your shoes you both settled yourselves comfortably looking out over the water. After a moment’s peace you felt Natasha lightly nudge your foot with hers, following her eyes you landed on the stolen lemonade. You simply nodded your head and she began to pour you both a glass. You sat quietly. Observing the shining water, grass tickling your feet, morning breeze passing over your faces and the taste of lemons on your tongues.

More time had passed and you found yourself lying on your stomach, propped up on your forearms with Natasha laying on her side facing you, her head held by her hand. You felt her watching you, daring you to catch her gaze. Replaying what occurred on your walk here, you kept yourself busy with the grass you were combing through your fingers.

A flash in your peripheral caught your attention and you looked up to find a butterfly had landed on the rim of your empty glass. Its body and wings were black making it seem more like a silhouette against the brightness of the sunrise. You watched as it began to drink the residual liquid that stuck to the inside of the glass. You looked over at Natasha who was utterly captivated by the small creature. You watched as her eyes filled with wonder and the way she held her breath as not to disturb you little visitor.

You slowly brought your finger to the rim of the glass and watched as the butterfly climbed into you resting comfortably. Natasha looked at you as if you just discovered a new planet. Disbelief and curiosity written on her face over the fact that you were able to hold such a delicate being in your hands. Immediately you wanted to share this moment with her. Your eyes fitted between hers, a smile on your face as you reached with your other hand to gently guide hers up to yours. When she realized what you were doing her expression suddenly changed to apprehension. It took you a moment to realize that the fear wasn’t of the creature, she was afraid she would scare it away. You came to a conclusion that gentleness had always been rare for Natasha.

“It’s okay.” You said softly as to not ruin the intimate atmosphere you found yourselves in as you allowed the butterfly to pass from your finger to hers.

The way Natasha looked at the creature in her hand made your heart clench in your chest. As the butterfly opened its wings in a stretch you heard the smallest of gasps leave the woman next to you. The wings revealed a bright red pattern framed in black markings. Suddenly she looked like a much younger version of herself. She looked like she came from a time before she knew how difficult of a life she would have ahead of her. You wished you knew her then.

“Pretty isn’t she?” You said as your eyes caught hers. “She reminds me of you.” As you gazed back down at its bright wings, her eyes doing the same.

“Because she’s a redhead?” She looked at you with a playful smirk on her face which brought a smile to your own.

You swallow your fear and let the adoration for her wash over you and choose your next words, “because she’s graceful, gentle and beautiful.”

Natasha looked at you in a way she never had before. The tenderness in her gaze almost capsized you entirely.

“She’s also a little shy…” You added as an afterthought to lighten the heaviness of previously said words. You caught her trying to suppress a small laugh and you thought about how badly you wished to hear it.

Your attention was taken as you watched your small visitor take its leave and fluttered across the lake, disappearing in the scenery. The atmosphere felt lighter then. You were reminded of a memory you had of your childhood that brewed a warmth in your belly and grew a smile on your face. You turned to Natasha who was still watching the water wearing a smile of her own.

“Have you ever had a butterfly kiss?” The words fell out of your mouth before you had a chance to stop them. Her brows furrowed slightly and she shook her head, the smile still present. You tried to disguise the inner battle you were having with yourself while still holding her gaze. You chose to be brave.

You adjusted yourself slightly on your arms to face her properly before leaning towards her. You kept your gaze locked on hers looking for any signs of discomfort, finding none you continued closer. You got so close that you felt her breath fan over your face and her nose brushing lightly against yours. Your hands held the grass in tight fists in an attempt to ground yourself. Her eyes fluttered closed and you leaned down a fraction so you were eye level with her flushed cheeks. You let your eyelashes brush against her skin as you blinked three times in an attempt to convey the three words you wish you had the courage to say to her.

You pulled away sporting a wide grin and a flush face, Natasha mirrored you in that moment. You both broke out into a series of light laughs that slowly turned into giggles. She made you feel like a much younger version of yourself.

You watched as she turned to lay on her back, gaze fitted up at the large tree looming over the two of you. You followed her, your hair laying haphazardly across the blanket beneath you. You watched as the wind carried the leaves of the willow back and forth in a dance and you felt lucky to be able to be their audience. You held your breath as you felt Natasha slowly reach for your hand, intertwining your fingers in a loose hold. You could feel the nervousness in her fingertips and you held her hand a little tighter. As she began to caress the back of your hand with her thumb, you knew you did the right thing.

You heard the movement of the blanket shifting against the grass and turned your head to find Natasha looking at you again. For the first time you saw fear flash through her expression. You squeezed her hand in reassurance and she smiled in an attempt to cure your concerns, you knew her well enough to know her nerves hadn’t settled. The wind picked up speed and a few strands of hair flew over your face, some getting caught in your eyelashes, distorting your view of her. Before you had the chance to brush them away, you watched in bated breath as her hand came into view and the light touch of her fingertips danced along your temple, effectively moving the hair from your eyes.

As she pulled her hand away you took a moment to look at her, it was rare that she was this close to you. The wind had blown through the strands of hair that came out of her braid which settled to frame her face. Her eyes caught the few rays of light shining through the tree above you and glowed with warmth, the nervousness still swimming in them. Her freckles that ran across her nose and flushed cheeks were prominent due to the absence of makeup and you internally wished she didn’t cover them. Her lips were a shade of pink, close to the shade of her cheeks and you imagined how soft they must be.

You quickly realized you were staring again and your eyes flew back up to hers. Her expression was unreadable as she searched your eyes for something. Suddenly the nervousness in her eyes was accompanied with determination.

It was her turn to be brave.

“Can I kiss you?” She whispered so softly you thought it was wind playing tricks on you. Your body worked faster than your brain as you began to lean towards her and she met you halfway.

She tasted like lemonade and warm things you couldn’t name. You brought your hand up to cup her jaw, her skin soft and heated from the flush that had taken over her complexion. Her hand had settled on your waist attempting to pull you closer. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears. The kiss was soft but sure. You could feel how much she wanted you too. Joy and relief filled every corner of your body and you couldn’t help but smile into the kiss, you could feel Natasha start to smile too. Eventually your grins were too wide to continue so you reluctantly pulled away. Breathless, you looked at each other and all you could think about was how much you loved her.

“We should do this again sometime.” She murmured as her lips brushed against yours as she spoke.

“I’d like that.” You replied as you watched her fear wash away like the currents of the lake.

Everything was warm because all you could feel was her.

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff fluff #mcu imagine #fluff #this is so soft #things i have written :)

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dream-sans-mogai · 6 months ago

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Oh fuck I accidentally deleted the last poll. It's fine though cause it was like 44% for giving it to sunny(+ others), 33% for leaving it up as an archive and 22% for archiving it here and deleting the original.

So all the new + reposted pronoun flags are gonna be posted over there for the time being and any polls related to them will be over there!

Time for the next poll. (I'm sorry for all the polls but there will only be one more after this.)

Now y'all are gonna help me pick my new theme (and mascot) for this blog, which includes a url change.

The options are: Fresh Sans ( with a dark arcade theme), Dream sans (With a royalty/light academia theme), passive Nightmare sans( with royalty/mild dark academia theme) and a general DND/Skyrim theme loosely based on the monk class, and/or wood elves/half elves.

Weird choices? Yes but I want to do something I have a current interest in and it's utmv and DND lol

#clover speaks #if noboy picks much ill probably just go with dream sans #just cause he'd be the easiest #and i really like dream sans #yes i know theres no animal crossing #i still like it but i was kinda leaving it #i wasnt gonna change my theme but i just wasnt real into it #i had the idea of changing the banner with each season so itd be rainy in the spring nice and clear in the summer #alittle rainy in fall and anowing in winter but it didnt manifest obviously

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chizue-witchery · 25 days ago

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⚜️. *. ⋆ Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

⚜️. *. ⋆ Rating: Mature

⚜️. *. ⋆ Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

⚜️. *. ⋆ Pairing/s: Dazai Osamu & Oda Sakunosuke

⚜️. *. ⋆ Character/s: Dazai Osamu, Oda Sakunosuke (mentioned), Mori Ougai (mentioned)

⚜️. *. ⋆ Summary: It had been weeks since Odasaku's death, yet Dazai couldn't sleep. His mind is plagued by Odasaku's final moments.

⚜️. *. ⋆ Word Count: 1,497

⚜️. *. ⋆ Tags/Warnings: Post-Dark Era, Past Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Impllied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Sleep Deprivation, Vomiting, Blood, Guilt, Emotional Hurt, Hut No Comfort, Whump, Angst

⚜️. *. ⋆ Prompts/Squares Filled: Sleep Deprivation, Broken Window, Bruises || @whumptober 2024 day 8 & 9

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

AO3

A/N: omg, i'm so sorry for the repost. i don't know why the original post got deleted, i must've accidentally deleted it and didn't realize.

Dazai can't sleep.

His mind is plagued by Odasaku's final moments.

He hadn't been able to sleep since he left the Port Mafia. It had been a week since then.

He hid in another city, staying in a rundown apartment until he knew what he wanted to do.

Here, he lies on his uncomfortable bed, staring at the leaking ceiling. A water droplet drips as it falls to the carpet with a soft thud.

Every blink he does feels heavier than the last one.

He wants to succumb to exhaustion and sleep and never wake up.

He wants to sleep and wake up to Odasaku leaving him a message.

He wants to go back in time to save Odasaku.

He wants to fulfill Odasaku's last wish.

He wants to die.

He wants, he wants, he wants—

He yawns, loudly and mouth wide open as he closes his eyes for a brief second.

He opens them once he finishes yawning, and he is so tired.

The week has blurred together; he doesn't remember what he did in the past week. It's hazy when he tries to remember.

Has he eaten anything in the past week?

He looks to the side and sees half-eaten cup noodles on the coffee table, some spilled with soup and noodles scattered on the table and floor. More plastic bags contain cup noodles and chips, and another plastic bag contains bottles of alcoholic drinks. Empty cans of beer are all over the floor.

Hm.

He ate something.

Although he never recalled leaving the apartment to buy them.

Speaking of the apartment, it is a mess. He sees piles of dirty clothes on top of each other, the clothes he wore on the day he held Odasaku in his arms. They're still stained with blood and they smells heavy and sickening.

It sickens his stomach, and he lurches as he moves to the edge of the bed to puke out the contents from his stomach. He heaves heavily, coughing away the remaining vomit stuck at the back of his throat. He wipes away the vomit on his lips with the thin blankets he uses to cover his body from the cold.

He stares at his vomit; noodles mixed with alcohol, along with other contents he doesn't recognize. It's disgusting. The liquid is spreading everywhere. It smells acidic. It stinks the entire room.

He wants to puke again.

He doesn't.

But the smell of acidic vomit mixed with beer and noodles, as well as the scent of the blood, makes him nauseous. His head starts to painfully throb, causing his swaying, a feeling he hadn't realized he was experiencing until now.

He shuts his eyes and opens them immediately, feeling the regret of closing them since his eyes hurt when he does. And yet, opening his eyes felt more painful.

He slowly, achingly, moves to the other side of the bed, as far as he can get away from the stench of vomit. His movement is sluggish, slower than normal. It takes everything in him to get his body to move in such a short distance.

He breathes heavily in exhaustion as though he ran a marathon, his body aching from moving them after not moving them for who knows how long. They cramp and he feels his muscles tense, and it's uncomfortable.

He stretches his legs, feeling his bone crack before curling his body. He stays in a fetal-like position until he loses count of how long he stayed in the same position. But he knows it's long enough for his body to ache.

He moves his head to look at the broken window, with blood splattered on the wall next to it. Under the window, the broken glass pieces are scattered on the floor. He would have guessed something happened the week before for the window to be broken, but then he noticed the blood on the wall was still recent—the blood not fully drying out. He tries to think of what happened, but the events of it are blank.

He doesn't remember it.

Perhaps he broke it while he was wasted.

How odd. He wonders why he broke it.

He thought of Odasaku's soft smile directed towards him, the way his eyes shone with so much hope for him and—

Oh.

Right.

That's why.

Thinking of Odasaku sends him to despair and grief. Because he knows Odasaku knew that he was going to die while taking down The Mimic organization.

Mori knew it. Odasaku knew it. He knew it.

It was why he tried to stop Odasaku in the first place, an attempt by allow himself to be vulnerable — and yet, it did not work.

Odasaku still went with it and died.

And it was all his fault.

If he had tried harder, maybe Odasaku would have agreed to not go on his suicide mission.

If he had been faster, maybe Odasaku would still be alive.

If, if, if—

Any what-ifs wouldn't have worked.

He already thought of all the what-ifs hours after Odasaku passed away in his arms.

He sighs, feeling his eyes droop, but he keeps them open. He refuses to allow himself to succumb to the slumber.

He sits up slowly; the fatigue weighing him down. He brushes away the hair on his face and they feel sticky and oily.

When has he last taken a shower?

He doesn't remember.

Maybe he should take a shower to wash away the grime on his body.

He doesn't move to leave the bed.

He didn't move at all after he sat up, other than a few yet slow blinks.

He thinks of lying back down on the bed, but he fears he might pass out once he does.

Slow and steady, he moves his legs to the edge of the bed, his body shivering when his feet touch the cold floor. He looks down as he wiggles his little toes, trying to feel something other than numbness. With a hard push, he gets himself off the bed and stands up.

He wobbles when his vision darkens and he immediately grabs the headboard of the bed so he doesn't fall. He waits for his vision to clear and for the dizzy spell to subside before he moves.

He walks to the bathroom, avoiding any trash or mess on the way. He closes the door behind him and he looks at the mirror.

He looks skinny, perhaps even malnourished. His dark hair is sticking out everywhere. Some of them are even tangled together. His face looks pale, his eye bags visible enough to look like they're bruises he got from a fight. His cheeks are sunken and his eyes are droopy and dull. His mouth is dry and his lips cracked because of thirst.

All in all, he looks worse compared to when he was at the Port Mafia.

That is not how he is supposed to look like.

He is supposed to change, just like Odasaku told him.

And yet, he looks worse.

He is recognizable, yet also not.

He knows it is him in the mirror, but it doesn't look like him.

It's a stranger who stares at him in the mirror.

He touches the mirror, and his reflection does the same thing. He pinches his cheek, and his reflection does the same. He takes a step back and his reflection does the same.

It's him.

But it's not him.

It's him without the bandages wrapped around his right eye. Odasaku removed them. He hasn't wrapped bandages around his eye ever since.

It's strange.

He's not used to it.

But it's new.

It's a new look.

It's… different.

A strange kind of difference.

He doesn't know what to call this emotion squeezing in his chest.

He doesn't know if it is a good thing or not to feel this way.

Not wanting to feel this emotion further, he turns away from the mirror and leaves the bathroom.

He sits down on the couch and grabs chips for him to eat. He bites the chips slowly, not wanting to upset his stomach further if he eats too quickly. He would've eaten cup noodles instead, but it takes too much effort and time. He doesn't want to do it.

He grabs a can of beer in the plastic bag and opens it before chugging it down. A sharp exhale escapes his lips once he finishes drinking the entire can. The headache is still there, but the burning sensation in his throat drowns it out.

He drinks another and another until he is lying down on the couch. The throbbing sensation in his head worsens while the darkness in the corner of his vision intensifies.

He slowly turns his head to the window and notices the sun slowly rising; another day has passed since Odasaku died.

He misses his friend dearly.

He wants him back.

But he can't get him back anymore.

Dazai squeezes his eyes shut, finally allowing his thoughts to shut down.

A/N: ... dazai is too easy to write angst/whump. i struggle trying not to use him for all whumptober days.

#whumptober #whumptober2024 #no.8 #no.9 #sleep deprivation #broken window #bruises #bungou stray dogs #bsd #dazai osamu #fic #past character death tw #self harm tw #it's only implied/referenced #vomit tw #blood tw #alcohol tw

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