#straight from the drafts so please ignore any mistakes

[greyskyflowers]

I have all these half hearted soulmate AU ideas and I hate to just delete them, so I'm just going to post what I have and roll with it. Please enjoy some rough draft soulmate AU ideas that I'll never finish ~

💙

Visible soulmate marks

Strings - brook

All his strings are tangled in his rib cage.

Vivid red that's thickly woven and caught between several ribs, always moving and pulling Brook forward.

Dark green tangled up, knotted and fraying in some places but still one of the strongest looking strings he has.

Grey blue that's tied securely towards his inner ribs, usually tangled up with the dark green, and close to where his stomach would be if he had one. Yohohoho

Shimmering orange ribbon that shines on the edges and doesn't pull so much as guide with gentle tugs.

Brilliant yellow in twine, multiple smaller pieces braided into one larger stand and tried off on the bone is a messy knot.

Peaceful pink that's carefully tied with a bow and drapes in gentle loops to a lower height before fading.

Deep purple silk thread, it's thin and slides like water over bone, deceivingly sharp to the touch.

Neon blue wire that's bent on a few places but strong, wrapped over bone in multiple coils.

Flower tattoo - robin

Sunflowers cover her back in messy lines, sprouting into long leafy stems and then giant detailed blooms, a heavy and bright presence always at at her back.

Gladiolus grow up her left forearm in thick inked lines that intersect with fine perfect ones, and lush blooms, one of the larger blooms sits where her arms cross.

Blue stars cover her right forearm with elegant and surprisingly subtle line, the most stunning one parallel to the Gladiolus and they meet when her arms cross.

Dahlias grow around her ankles, beautiful and healthy with lines like a rough sketch, looking wind swept and rain drenched.

A mix of peonys grow on her collarbones, they're sweet and inked in childlike handwriting, the blooms hide playful behind each other in a bunch of petals

Clematis bloom on her chest, they're the largest bloom and are messily arranged, the lines are reminiscent of blueprints with scales and measurements.

Daffodil climb up her left side in elegant white ink and tangle together in all stanges of life: bud, bloom, and wilting with petals dropping.

Marigolds cover her right side in ink that mimics paint strokes, the blooms more detailed than any of the others and look like something from an old gardening book.

Color spots - luffy

Luffy is cover in color, everything from pale, watercolors to vivid metallic

Green covers his right hand and forearm, always visible and on the side that he throws the first punch with.

Pale blues mix on his left hand and forearm, intermixed like different depths of water.

Gold drips down the right side of his chest like spilled ink, a shine to it that catches the light and gleams.

Yellow shines like sunlight on his left knee, it's a burst of courageous color and quick to draw the eye.

Pale pink is whispy on his lower back like cotton candy, edges soft and happy.

Crisp, black is in sharp lines against his left ribs. They site between each rib like a shadow and curl like skeletal fingers.

Purple stains his fingers dark like fruit, it finds its way into his finger prints and trace the shape like it's memorizing it.

Solid grey wraps around his ankles like bands, gleaming like metal and strong looking against his skin.

Moving tattoos - zoro

Zoro is full of life, even when he's fast asleep

A sun, filled in with all the colors of a sunset and whispy, white clouds that roll lazily over the design before fading away and reforming again on the other side. The only mark he ever wants on his back

A part of a map wrapped around his upper, left arm. It flutters like it's catching the wind and the edges shine vivid gold and copper.

Flowers bloom on the back of his right hand, they drop petals that fade like they're sinking into water before the flower starts as a bud again.

Gears turn on his left side, little blue stars tumbling between them before flickering out and reappearing at the top.

The going merry circles his left ankle, it bobs happily under a half circle shape with 5 prongs on the inside.

There's a sheet of music wrapped around his upper, right thigh. Binks Sake, the notes jump like they're being played.

Smoke curls around his right forearm, spitting embers and flashing flames in dark smoke before settling back into a gentle grey.

Hoof prints walk in happy, steps around on his right ribcage. They're there and gone in quick black prints like soot in snow.

Names - nami

Luffy curls around her right wrist, vivid red ink that forms the letters in playful strokes.

Zoro is inked on her lower back in a strong, green.

Sanji rests in greyish blue under her left collarbone in clean, neat lines.

Chopper is a warm brown that wraps around her left ankles, the O replaced with a little hoofprint.

Usopp wraps around her right ankle in messy yellow like paint.

Robin is on her right ribs in dark purple, it's a beautiful cursive.

Franky is neon blue and sits on the back of her neck in block letters.

Brook is one her left ribs, black ink spelling his name in thin, curling strokes.

Usopp - constellations

Taurus in red like blood across his collarbone, a rough circle with proudly raised horns growing off to the sides.

Scorpio in black ink around his upper left arm, razor thin lines that raise high and curve before dropping back down and closing off in an arrow.

Cancer like copper coins behind his ear in tight, storming swirls and long tails.

Pisces in silver around his upper right thigh, two curves back to back and gleaming.

Aquarius in pearl around his fingers in waves that creast in points.

Capricorn in bronze on his right ribcage dripping down and up before curling into a circle and trailing off

Pisces in cobalt on his left shoulder blade, a second pair of curves sliced through but this pair is has thicker lines.

Aries in platinum down his spine, the curve starting by one side of the neck before dropping all the way down his back and back up to the other

Something from home - Sanji

A jungle tree cover his right arm, a small treehouse tucked in between all of the leaves and branches.

The outline of a small building rests on his lower back, the large doors are open and even though he hasn't seen it in person he knows it's a dojo.

A orange tree has roots on his right ankle and grows up his leg into a tree baring healthy, ripe oranges.

The outline of a snowy mountain covers his left ribs, the tops snow tipped and the shadows adding a depth.

A whale rests on his left hip, it's got a scar and a sprout of water above it

A trains follows it's tracks in loops around his left ankle and up to his kneecap

Another tree grows on his left leg, smaller around the base and larger around the middle with little dots like windows in the trunk.

The going merry sits between his shoulders, she's bittersweet but he's honored to have her on his skin.

Franky - bands

Red band that ties like an anchor hitch knot and the edges are wavy like the sea

Green band that's frayed and threadbare in some spots with 3 razor sharp lines carefully cut

Gold band with a little bow and faint maps designs almost light enough to overlook

Purple band with a design like lace, elegant flowers and hearts mixed in

Yellow band with textured like a rope and a little ship he knows but never met sailing on top

Brown band that looks like gauze and just barely covers a little hoof print behind it

Blue band that looks like fish scales and has smokey edges

Couldn't decide what to do for Chopper so let's just say his fur covers them 😀

💙

Soulmate AU ideas

Where you share parts of everything with your soulmate. Random thoughts, wounds, knowledge, etc will sneak through before disappearing

Luffy saying something he absolutely should not know and Robin grinning

Nami sharing in the heavy sleeping feeling from Zoro

Usopp showing off the brief wounds he gets from Sanji like they're his own before they disappear from his skin

Chopper being musical in a way someone with hooves shouldn't be

Franky having medical knowledge that a cyborg doesn't have much use for

They all know they could weld Zoro's swords if they needed. None of them trained in any type of swords style but they can feel the ache of the repetitive motions that come with training and way it feels to attack with the intention of killing. His swords are weary of them, aware of the power soulmates have. They all know what happened at Thriller Bark, felt the acceptance of death because it meant their captain wouldn't have to.

They all love Ace as their own immediately, memorizing everything about him in the way you do for a loved one. They have a fondness for Shanks and others that they've never met besides in stories. Their hands have been busted again and again, the skin splitting over broken bone. They've felt fire in their chest, a loss far deeper than skin.

They've all felt wind against exposed bone, even with there own safety wrapped in skin and muscle. They've felt strings under their fingers and hum melodies they've never heard. There's a loneliness in their heart that speaks of a lifetime lost, one they never lived.

They all felt the foreboding feeling of knowing a storm is coming while looking at clear skies. They wipe at their fingers like ink stains them and there's an itch that only comes from old scars that always sits on their shoulder. They trace maps in their heads and itch for a pen, calculations springing up in their minds for properly scaling.

They've all had situations where their hands knew what to do before they did, their eyes tracing over someone and seeing all the injuries like it was written on their skin. They've felt their noses itch with a influx of scents, knowing immediately what belonged to who. They've felt the zip down their spine of that animal instinct when in the presence of a predator.

They've all felt the feeling of being too big, metal where skin should be and a loss of nerves. They've felt the heavy satisfaction of building something new and impressive, constant bigger and better in their minds.

They've all spoke of books they've never read and place they've never been. They have felt multiple spines break and necks snap under their hands. There's knowledge in their heads that feels heavy and overwhelming, it wants to spill out from their mouths to make room. They miss a place and family that they never knew.

They've all had that vicious huger, the desperation only caused by starvation. They've felt the fleeting attraction to a stranger and also the beauty of genuine love. They have the itch for nicotine, lungs begging for something they've never had.

They've all had times where the day is clearer, a haze they didn't realize was there lifting off their eyes and letting them see further than they had before. They've felt the snap of a slingshot and the swelling urge of creation in their chest.

They never held Zoro's swords

They never mourn the loss of Ace the way Luffy has

They never taste a storm on the back of their tongue the way Nami has.

They've never aimed with the knowledge that people will get hurt if they miss like Usopp has

They never felt hunger as fiercely as Sanji has

They never saved someone's life with enough confidence the way Chopper has

They've never ran their fingers over the last of something the way Robin has

They've never traded skin for metal the way Franky has

They've never met death quite like Brook has

💙

Soulmate String of Fate AU?

Strings tangled in or around:

Zoro's swords

Luffy's hat

Brook's ribs

Robin's fingers

Sanji's wrists

Chopper's antlers

Franky's arms

Nami's bracelet

Usopp's hair

[still-fatemeh]

Come love, make me better than I was.

Come teach me a kinder way to say my own name.

Fyodor Dostoevsky X reader

(A little old fyodor fic of mine that's been rotting in my drafts for sooo long. The reader has a name and a vague physical description but feel free to ignore them if you want. I just do this because I hate writing the word y/n, that's all. It's ooc and kinda pointless. So yeah... the new chapter is gonna come out and people might hate him even more so might as well get this over with. Not proofread.)

"You love him despite the burden of Atlas resting on his shoulders,

And he loves you despite the death still clinging to your lips,

and the blood drying at its corners. What a pair you make."

"I have an idea of… how I’m going to make it up to you." He paused a moment, and smirked at her.

"Though… you’ll have to do me a small favour first."

"A favour, hm? Well... It depends. It depends on what you want me to do for you, but I'll accept. I'll humour you this time and accept without asking what it is." Anna's tone was amused, the amusement bleeding into her gaze as she looked up at him from her book.

"So, what is it that you want from me?"

Fyodor laughed again, and leaned forward as he spoke.

"You seem very confident that you would be willing to do what I ask, though I haven’t even told you what it is… And you don't appear trusting at all..."

He looked her up and down, his smirk growing bigger.

"I think I’ll let you stay in ignorance, just so I can see the look on your face when you realise what you agreed to…"

Anna shot him an unamused glare, mentally face-palming at his smug yet childish antics.

"Now, of course you'd do that, why am I even surprised?" The lady spoke out with a tone that indicated she was used to this, a little bit disappointed but still used to it, as she let out an audible sigh.

Fyodor couldn’t keep a straight face any longer.

"That is… precisely why I’m doing it. I just want to see your face when you realise you agreed to something extremely humiliating. You know me too well, you shouldn’t be surprised at this point."

Fyodor couldn’t hold back a laugh any longer, and started to snicker.

"Trusting you is always a mistake." She said, trying to fight off the genuine smile creeping up her lips.

It was a nice change of pace seeing fyodor laugh, it's been long since she saw him even smile. It didn't matter if it costed her a bit of her dignity to fulfill his favour. It didn't matter if it was something slightly humiliating. She was willing to make that sacrifice, but he didn't have to know that.

"Please, do enlighten me with what it might be, or you'll have to spend the night in your office. Your choice." She mused with a faux cheery tone and set the book down on the coffee table next to her, a bit to hide her anticipation.

Fyodor chuckled once again when he sensed her dread. He was amused that she was so willing to fulfil his favour, without even knowing what it is.

"So you’re fine with something humiliating happening to you, as long as you're think you might be pleasing me? Interesting…"

Fyodor thought for a minute, then decided to tell her what he had in mind.

"I’m assuming you remember what a ‘maid’ is?"

Thirty seconds of awkward silence later...

She was sending daggers his way with her stare.

"No, fyodor. No. Not that weird shit again..."

She was taken aback by his request but not surprised. She was surprised he could say that with a straight face.

"Do you know how weird that is? My dignity doesn't allow me to do that again. I wasn't born into a long line of noble blood for you to dress me up as a japanese servant whenever you're feeling bored."

He'd coaxed her into doing it before, she wasn't going to do that again. That you could tell from the venomous stare she was sending his way.

Fyodor couldn’t hold back another snicker anymore. He knew how she felt, but he couldn’t help how amusing he found it.

"Oh come now, it would be fun! Not for you, of course." Fyodor grinned, as he started to speak again. "I just want to see you look ridiculous as a maid. I don’t think that’s too much to ask." He feigned a look of self-righteousness, bringing the wine glass to his lips to conceal that devilish self-satisfactied grin of his.

"I'd like to see you dressed as a clown too, darling." She gave him a forced smile, batting her eyelashes with false innocence. "Fedya, darling, that's mortifying. Ask something else. You're supposed to be making it up to me that you forgot our anniversary."

Fyodor smiled a thin smile, and leaned back in his seat.

"I did not forget the date, sweetheart. It was simply bad timing. And I'm sitting here with you now, honoring you wishes. So I'd appreciate it if you stopped complaining about it."

His smirk grew a bit, as he thought of another idea.

"Though, I certainly do have another request for you."

"Oh, you..." Anna smiled, shaking her head with faux disappointment.

"Oh come now, I’m sure this one will be easy for you to fulfill... Come closer, sweetheart. I've missed your warmth..."

She blinked a few times, her expression shining with amusement. "Whatever you say, darling..."

She let loose of her hair that was up in a braided bun, before walking up to him. She nudged herself between his knees, planting a kiss on his jawline.

"Now is that close enough for your liking, sir?" Her voice came out as an amused purr.

Fyodor grinned, seeing her give in so easily and let her hair down. Though there was a slight hint of amusement, he genuinely appreciated her willingness to humour him.

"Yes… Very much so."

He ran his fingers through her hair, a deep exhale left his lips that signalled both his satisfaction and serenity. Her eyes fluttered shut as well, that seemed to be relaxing for her too.

But apparently, she couldn't, by any means, get rid of the inevitable dread that found its way to her stomach whenever he acted that nice.

So she asked.

"Though, I may have to ask, what's with this sudden burst of affection? Is there something that you're not telling me?"

Fyodor seemed to hesitate with his answer for a second.

"Nothing at all… it’s just… I do find it amusing to see you submit and humour my wishes…"

He frowned and hesitated, before saying something else.

"Is that alright? Am I getting too excessive… too demanding?"

"No, not at all..."

Anna mumbles under her breath, turning her torse around so her chest brushed, her gaze easing once she found his.

"To be honest... I revel in this affection."

She spoke out softly.

"Only because it comes from you."

She said, her gaze as soft and tender as a spring breeze. She pressed a chaste peck to his cheek, a red mark coloring his pale face.

He turned his head and looked down at Anna as she leaned in closer to him. His face was now a bright red, but he didn’t even care. His eyes locked with hers as his heart rate accelerated.

Oh how hard it was to hide this much fondness... Even a demon like him couldn't.

He smiled, and returned her kiss with a soft one on her forehead.

"Your affection is well received…" He said softly, before pausing to give her another kiss on the cheek.

"…And returned. I… don’t deserve to be treated this kindly, not after what I have done…"

Her gaze softened as she looked at him, softened with a hint melancholy in them.

"I... myself am also far from a saint. It's not rotten work for me. I love you, remember?"

Anna spoke as she fixed his collar and brushed back his hair, just like she always did. As if the words she said were mundane things, that she could say at any time. He could ask her for her heart and she'd give it to him, whole.

Oh, what a waste of precious devotion...

Fyodor looked at her affectionately, it reminded him of the times she would brush back his hair before bed. He couldn’t contain the smile that spread across his face as he saw her like this once again.

He wasn't too far gone...

Was he?

"I…" He said, then stopped himself. It would've been laughably pathetic if he continued talking like that, but...

"Anna dear, would you… still love me that much? If I kept pushing things too… too far?"

His lady dodged his eyes, her eyes focused on the collar of his shirt.

His white shirt, stained with red droplets of blood. Once again.

She sighed.

"Fyodor dostoevsky,"

Full name, it didn't take a genius to figure out she was getting fussy.

"Why are you even... asking me such questions?"

Fyodor was startled when she said his full name, he wasn't used to her speaking to him like he was a kid and was going to get in trouble for something.

"Why am I...?" He echoed her question with his expression shifting into a grimace, as he pondered for a moment.

"...How far can I push things until I've taken it too far?" He clarified.

"It depends on you. It depends on how much you're willing to forgive yourself for. The further you're willing to go for the sake of your plans, for the the greater good, the more you're going to lose yourself."

She said, her face downcast.

"I'm a lost cause, but listen... Dearest, for every crime, there is punishment. You know better, right?"

Her tone was firm but filled with something warm, akin to affection.

Fyodor thought about what she said, and sighed at her words. She was right, of course. But... that was the cost of getting what he wanted. It would be worth it.

"I’m well aware, dear…"

Fyodor shifted his gaze to the floor. He knew that he was already falling deep down the slope, and his thoughts and mind were becoming corrupt and twisted. But that wouldn’t matter, not in the end.

Anna observed his expression with an arched brow and leaned closer. She was still sitting on his lap, her hair loose. This showed that this was far from a serious conversation but his heart said otherwise. The closer she was, the heavier her words weighed on his heart.

"I hope your awareness spreads to more than one category."

She mumbled, still not not looking him in the eyes.

"Don't lose yourself in empty promises. Or else the promised land will be where you'll... finally be buried."

Anna's words ended with a deep sigh, it wasn't one of disappointment but one to indicate she was trying to unwind.

He listened to her words. She sounded like a priestess trying to warn a guilty man of his inevitable fate, but unable to due to the seal of confession. He wanted to tell her that he understood, and he would never lose himself. But he knew that that would be a complete lie. The man he used to be had died a long time ago, a long long time ago…

"And what if that’s the only way for me to achieve my final goal?" He asked softly, finally looking at her again.

"Would you still stand by me? Or… would you walk away for my own good? Would it be for the sake of that promise?"

"I..."

She gulped, looking down, it was hard to swallow the guilt.

"I think I've told you that the promise... isn't the reason I've stayed. It... never was. I... would walk with you to hell itself... Because I... know I wouldn't be able to stop you if you go too far."

Fyodor noticed the sarrow on his lady’s face, she had no idea just how true her words really were. He couldn’t hold back a chuckle, albeit it was a rather painful one.

"If you really mean that… then you’re just as corrupt as I am…"

"Yes,"

She muttered.

"Yes, I am..."

Another sigh escaped her lips as she got off his lap, sitting down next to him, she began braiding her hair again.

He watched with nothing, absolutely nothing, behind those eyes as she went to sit down next to him.

"You sound… regretful." Fyodor said as he kept glancing down at his lap.

"I'm... not regretful."

She dismissed, trying to look like she's busy interlacing the three strands of white hair as the weight of her words became more evident on her face.

"So... Are we still... celebrating our anniversary?" She spoke with uncertainty while putting her hair up, she sounded lost, it was unfamiliar to his ears.

Anna was still braiding her hair like she used to. It was almost nostalgic for him. He didn’t know if it meant anything, but he knew that it was reassuring.

"Yes… I think we should. We can spend the rest of the night together… I’ll make it up to you for forgetting about it earlier." He said with a neutral tone of voice. It was rare for him to be sincere, at least when it wasn’t a part of his plans.

"That's a relief... You've been so busy with work, you've barely caught a wink of sleep."

It was rare fedya came to bed at night, no matter how much she wished he would. curling into his side always helped her rest easier. his presence is a calming one, maybe only to her.

Fyodor sighed and nodded, rubbing his forehead as he looked away.

"We’re both stretched pretty thin aren’t we?" His words came out as a tired admission and Anna gave him another sweet smile. "Perhaps we should go to bed, hm?"

Fyodor thought about what she said, before a smile spread across his face.

It was nice to be wanted, to have her actually want him to stay next to her.

"Yes… I'm pretty exhausted." Fyodor agreed, slowly rising up to his feet and starting to walk to the bedroom with her.

"It's a pleasant surprise for you to actually admit it, sir." She noted with a faint smirk.

The new hideout was barely furnished, it was nothing, not nearly as comfortable as a hotel room. Other than a few chairs and paper files neatly placed on top of one another, there wasn't anything else in the room. His office in the basement was the most busy, littered with wires. His monitors were the only source of illumination in that room.

Their bedroom was no exception, a bed, an armoire and a bookshelf, nothing more.

It was a new hide out every few months. He would've felt ashamed, if it wasn't for her overwhelmingly sweet compliance. she was his bride for God's sake.

Fyodor took a seat on their bed, and watched as she reached for her towel. He was silent for a moment, until he faintly spoke.

"I do agree that I should sleep… it’s just, my thoughts never rest…"

"I know dear, I know..." Anna whispered, observing him with a hint of concern in her eyes, which was a rarity.

He sighed, before looking over at the corner of the room. It was dimly lit, as it was the only corner with a lamp present, and he shifted his gaze towards where his shadow was being projected. Though he spoke softly, he sounded tired as he spoke.

…"Do you mind if I tell you something…?"

..."Go on."

She slowly looked in his direction, her eyes already questioning the exhaustion in his tone.

Fyodor slowly sighed, he took his time to gather his thoughts before he spoke.

"The only time my mind actually… stops thinking…"

He paused for a moment, as if considering whether or not continuing with that admission was a good choice.

"…Is when I sleep next to you."

Fyodor looked at her, his own face bearing an unexpected amount of vulnerability in it. The last time he had felt this bare… was a really long time ago.

Anna's face had surprise in it for a moment, before her lips curved into a coy smile. It was something she never expected she'd hear him say. The traces of surprise melted into a look of affection. It was rare of him to be like this, fyodor could tell that colour rushed to her cheeks despite the dim lighting of the room.

She walked towards their bed and... plastered her hand right on his forehead, checking for a fever.

"The last time you were talking like this, you had pneumonia... Are you well, darling?"

She said, dead serious as she pressed the back of her hand to his chest, trying to detect a rise of body temperature.

Fyodor was visibly surprised for a moment when she pressed her hand to his forehead, checking his temperature. He thought she was going to give a flirty remark on his behavior… And instead she was acting like a mother checking on her child. Not going to lie, it was embarrassing.

"I-I'm quite fine…" Fyodor reassured her with an awkward expression, his cheeks were slightly red, which he quickly hid by averting his gaze. He found it a little amusing that she thought he had some sort of infection, that it was the only reason why he could admit his feelings of vulnerability to her.

"You also said that last time. 'Mister perfectly fine'..."

Her brows furrowed slightly, concern visible in her expression. Fyodor had a long history of disregarding his own health for the sake of his scheming, anna had, unfortunately, had to grow used to it.

She let out a quiet sigh when she didn't find any signs of severe illness, maybe he was just weary.

"I don't know when to believe you, fedya... I never know."

Anna plopped down on the bed next to him, her eyes focused on the ceiling.

Fyodor’s eyes followed her gaze as she looked up at the ceiling. He took a deep breath, as he felt the calmness of exhaustion wash over him. It was a nice feeling indeed, even if he felt that he didn’t necessarily deserve it. This quiet moment they were having was one that they both truly needed…

"Maybe that’s the point… for you to never know." Fyodor said softly, as he chuckled quietly to himself. He looked over at her, his eyes lingering over her.

Her upper lip twitched in mild annoyance as he said that.

"You know darling, you should praise me more for keeping up with all of your mind games." Sarcasm was evident in her tone as she sat up on the bed, giving him a look of amusement.

"You worry me too much..." She admitted, a bit hesitantly.

Fyodor noticed the sarcasm in her tone, as he gave her a playful roll of his eyes.

"Well, forgive me for trying to make your day interesting." Fyodor said jokingly, before taking time to actually praise her. It was a rare occasion indeed where he did." But yes, I suppose you should be applauded for keeping up."

"Oh, please..."

Anna huffed in response to his sarcastic remark. "That's the least I can do. After all... I do find your mind games entertaining."

She got off their bed, reaching down to grab her towel again.

Fyodor’s smile grew, and his eyes followed her as she stood up off of the bed and reached for her towel. The way she smiled was quite endearing, and a part of him felt the urge to compliment her on it… but then he decided against it, as he thought it would be odd if he did.

"Now isn’t that a nice thing to hear?" Fyodor teased, as he laid back down on their bed. Still not wanting to fall asleep just yet.

She merely shook her head at his teasing as she walked towards the bathroom, though she didn't seem bothered at all.

"Fine, sir. just sleep. I'll be back soon."

A small smile from her and the bathroom closes shut.

The light from the bathroom was kind of bothersome, it disturbed his eyes and robbed the room of its peacefulness. The sound of water from the shower came a bit later, but it was comforting in its own way. He could hear the soft sound of water as she began to take a shower. He looked at the bathroom, before averting his gaze elsewhere as he thought about the conversation that they had just had. It was funny… just minutes ago he was admitting that he felt the closest to calmness when he slept next to her, and now she was taking a shower.

Fyodor sighed, before shifting around on the bed, slowly beginning to rest his eyes as the sound of water washed away.

The bathroom door slowly creaked open after sometime. He could hear anna stifling a curse at how loud the goddamn door was. Funny, she probably thought he had fallen asleep, hence she was tip toeing to the closet to get her clothes, careful not to wake him up. He stayed still though, not wanting to give away the fact that he was in fact awake.

He laid in a relaxed way, his eyes still closed, as he waited for her to grab her things as she tried not to make too much noise. Anna gently lifted the covers and slipped under them, right next to him. She couldn't resist the urge to lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

Fyodor’s body stiffened at the unexpected contact from her. He hadn’t been expecting it, as he never expected her to give him a kiss of her own accord… but it felt nice indeed.

Her hair was still damp and the long-sleeved blue dress had given its place to a loose fitting night dress, which was far comfier.

And she felt him smiling while at it.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?"

She whispered apologetically.

He let out a long breath as he heard her apologies, as he quickly shook his head.

"Mm… no, no…" Fyodor muttered back, as he turned to face her and opened his eyes. When his eyes settled on her, he had a smile on his face.

"So you were awake, huh?" She asked calmly, propping her chin on his chest as she lies down on top of him.

"That doesn't justify the fact that you didn't even bother to change your shirt, fedya..." Another mindless complaint. She twirled a strand of his hair around her finger as she waited for him to speak.

He slowly brought her even closer to him. He enjoyed these moments, these peaceful moments with her where they could let their guards down. A part of him wanted this night to last forever, if only it actually could…

"I... just couldn’t stop thinking about what we spoke of earlier… how I couldn’t rest when I’m not next to you." Fyodor said simply, not even bothering to lie.

Her lips curved into a smile, a smile that fyodor could feel its absolute sincerity in the darkness of the room.

"I'll be here whenever you need warmth. Whatever I can give, is all yours."

After a few moments of her tender gaze, her smile morphed into something more teasing.

"I'll ask again, what's with you acting all sweet tonight? I feel like you're bribing me..."

Fyodor felt her play with his hair, and it felt like a pleasant sensation, one that he didn’t get too often. He had to stifle a chuckle at how her initial smile turned into a teasing one, that’s how he knew her so well. A smile on her face was almost always either genuine or fake, and Fyodor could always tell which one it was. He couldn’t help but appreciate how much of herself she was willing to share with him, even if that meant playing this little teasing game of hers. He smirked when she mentioned him acting sweet.

"So you caught on… I am trying to bribe you." Fyodor said, playfully.

"Oh... Are you? I wonder why..." She said, pulling lightly on the single strand of his hair that she was twirling around her finger.

"Are you going to let yourself get captured for the sake of some information again and then die by their hands again?" Anna asked, her eyes losing that gleam of playfulness in them.

Fyodor shifted around in their bed, as he sighed once more, and looked down at the small strand of his hair in her finger.

"I know you despise it whenever I do that…" Fyodor stated softly.

"I..."

Her eyes flickered up to his violet ones as she gulped. But she eventually ate her words, the complaints dying on her tongue. He did listen, but didn't care. Anna sometimes forgot she was in no position to criticise him for his plans, she had no say in that regard, her complaints didn't matter to him.

"Please… don’t apologize…" Fyodor whispered, tone deceivingly soft. He never liked seeing her upset.

"My worries are needless, right? I apologise." Her tone and vocabulary changed quickly. She shifted herself, getting off his chest and lying down on her side of the bed.

Anna let out a soft sigh, not bothering to turn around and face him.

The topic of his reckless behavior was a sensitive one for her, especially when he chose to disregard her worries for the sake of his own gains. He knew that she couldn’t do anything about it, and she knew that too. That’s why she would give up so easily. But she made these complaints anyway, because she couldn’t stand to see him put himself in danger. Her heart was always in the right place… But he didn’t need her worries, he never did.

"I just..."

"If I don't apologise, you'll tell me that I'm giving you an attitude, meddling with the things I don't understand." She whispered, trying not to come off as agitated.

She paused, deciding against saying thr words she wanted to say.

Fyodor listened to her words, as his gaze stayed on her back. He knew that the slightest bit of sarcasm would immediately get her to back off, the fact that she cared so much about his safety made her rather easy to pick apart and put down.

"You really do give me an attitude often, do you know that…" Fyodor mumbled, a small smirk formed on his lips as he thought to himself about how easily he could get a reaction out of her. He wasn’t proud of the fact that he liked making her worry... Okay, maybe just a tiny bit...

Her shadowy figure inhaled air, her chest rising and falling with an audible sigh.

"Whatever you say, dearest." Her voice was firm yet somber at the same time.

Eventually, Anna shifted in bed, now facing him.

"Guess I can be the plush toy that helps you ease your thoughts and fall asleep, hm?" She muttered, her whisper is a bittersweet symphony. But her eyes aren't bittersweet as she reached out to twirl a strand of his hair around her finger and watched with familiarity as his slick hair falls back into place, not even curling one bit.

Those whispers from her made his heart beat faster. She'd never said anything but the truth to him, but in this case, fyodor thought it was a little bit of an exaggeration on her part. She had been a lot more useful than that.

"Why yes, you have been of good use of helping me fall asleep. You’re very comfortable… and quite pleasing to look at, especially when you decide to lay closer to me." Fyodor teased as he looked down at her hand, watching as she fiddled with his hair.

She pulled at the strand, hard enough to make him wince.

"Oh... Am I now?"

She asked playfully, tilting her head to the side.

"I wonder... what could possibly make you think that way?"

She mumbled, arching her brow with faux wonder.

He had to keep himself from letting out a groan as she pulled at his hair so abruptly. Her tone seemed amused, in a way that he could barely pick up on. It was so subtle that he couldn’t tell if it was her genuine tone, or if she was just masking her actual feelings.

“Your beauty, of course…” He looked into her eyes as he spoke his response in a calm and casual tone, unphased by the tug she just gave him.

That wasn't the answer she wanted to hear, but she didn't let her face drop, she was grateful for his flattery and gave him a weak smile. Ruining the peace of the moment wasn't an option, she was enjoying it as well. Fyodor allowing himself to rest like this was a rare sight.

So she leaned in to kiss him while whispering:"I appreciate your sweet talk, darling..."

Part of him found her willingness to play along with him even though she could tell he was deflecting to be quite commendable, her ability to hold her ground and pretend was impressive. He smiled softly as he kissed her back, before whispering. "What if it was genuine this time?" Fyodor looked into her eyes, giving her a suggestive smirk as he watched her reaction closely, wondering how she would take that.

Anna went still for a second, eyes wide in momentary surprise. Then she let out a soft sigh before reaching out to undo the buttons on his shirt, the same one he wore to work that he hadn't bothered to take off.

"So you caught on this quick, huh?" She mumbled, her lips twitching into a coy smile.

"Can't say I'm surprised..."

She said, the smile lingering.

"So you really think you’re just a plush toy to help me fall asleep? Do you really think you’re that useless to me?"

Ah...

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes at him. She sighed internally.

Of course, it was a matter of usefulness to him...

"No... I really don't."

But she brushed it all aside as she got down to the last button of his shirt, he sat up a bit and she slid it off of his shoulders, easing him out of it. The undershirt was much better, japan's humid weather was really bothersome.

"You know me by now…" He said, as he shifted around, trying to pull her closer to him.

.

.

.

[adriswrld]

Randy Orton's sister x Alexa Bliss / Charlotte Flair x Reader

request/trope: enemies (on screen)/ friends to lovers (irl) trope with Alexa Bliss

a.n: so this request was messaged to me and they gave a lot of what they wanted for the plot so I will be going off of their request the best I can! Will probably change some stuff so it fits the plot better but that's it!

this came from my wattpad first btw! my wattpad is -adriswrld :)

Y/N hopped off her motorcycle that she just parked next to her brother's car also known as Randy Orton's car. "You know you really need to start using your car. I warned you about how dangerous those things are," Randy scolded, grabbing his suitcase and hers out of the car. She usually couldn't fit her second suitcase on her bike so she had Randy hold onto it. "I heard you the first million times Randal, stop nagging on me," Y/N said in an annoyed tone. Randy rolled his eyes at her using his full name. "I'm just worried about you Y/N. I'm allowed to be after that incident," Randy said and Y/N clenched her jaw hoping he would stop bringing that up to make her feel guilty.

"Yes Randy I got tired, made a mistake hurt someone in the ring but it had nothing to do with a motorcycle or my break up with Ashley. So back off please." Randy sighed and nodded, choosing to let it go for now but it didn't stop his concern for her well being. Now that Ashley would be on the same brand as her then he knew it would be even harder on her. Y/N walked in the building with her suitcases and headed to the locker room. They must've been meeting some of the new girls because tonight was the night of the SmackDown draft. Y/N really hated the drafts because there was an extra amount of people than a normal amount of people for a Smackdown episode.

Y/N chewed on her gum as she entered the locker room, heading straight to her locker and ignoring everyone but they were used to it. "Y/N! Come here I wanna introduce you to someone!" Trinity called over and Y/N let out a sigh before getting up from the bench. "Lexi this is Y/N Orton. Y/N this is Lexi Kaufman aka Alexa Bliss." Trinity introduced. Y/N just a gave an uninterested nod, not bothering to shake Alexa's hand or make any kind of contact. "Hi...yeah I gotta go now," Y/N mumbled before walking out of the locker room without another word. "Oh...uh okay," Alexa mumbled awkwardly. She was aware Y/N wasn't exactly the most social person but she didn't really expect that. Especially since her own crush just treated her like a high school jock would.

"Don't take it personal. She's always like that." Nikki Bella said, patting Alexa's shoulder with a warm smile. "Yeah I didn't, just caught me off guard."

»»────── 𓆩♡𓆪 ──────««

Y/N groaned getting a message to head to Hunter's office. As Hunter was apart of creative he had an idea for Y/N's new storyline as she was finished with her last one. Y/N lost her fued to Becky Lynch for the SmackDown Women's Championship, helping put over the orange haired woman in the process.

Y/N didn't mind helping put over the newer women she just hoped they would put her in a storyline with her brother sooner or later. The least they could do is let her win matches. She was literally an Orton, she shouldn't have to look weak. All they did was show Randy giving her advice in backstage segments or promos.

Y/N walked into the office and sat down on the chair, not even acknowledging Alexa Bliss sitting there as well. "You called me?" Y/N raised a brow, chewing on her new piece of gum. Alexa didn't have to question why Y/N had such a sharp jawline now. "Yes I have a new storyline for you that I think you'll like a lot," Triple H said. Y/N perked up hoping they'd finally pair her with her older brother. "You're gonna finally let me wrestle with my brother?" Y/N asked hopefully and Triple H pursed his lips. "Yes and No," he said, making Y/N slightly frown. "We decided to team you and your brother for the mixed match challenge but that's not gonna be apart of your storyline," Triple H said.

That's when Y/N finally realized Alexa was sitting next to her. "No way. You're gonna team me up with new girl?!" Y/N exclaimed, hating the idea of being in a tag team with anyone. Her brother was the only exception. "Ouch. I'm right here!" Alexa said, offended but still insanely attracted to Y/N when she was mad. "No Y/N we're not teaming you two up. You're actually gonna be fueding. It sets up Alexa's fued with Becky Lynch in the future," Triple H said. Alexa was super excited because she might possibly win her first championship in WWE after this first warm up fued. "Wait, so I'm gonna lose again?" Y/N asked incredulously.

"Yes and No. Neither of you will lose this fued as Alexa will move onto her fued with Becky Lynch for the SmackDown Women's Championship and you will move onto your next fued with Charlotte Flair for the Raw Women's Championship. Alexa will be a heel and you will turn babyface so you both will be on different brands soon. This is just a warm up fued. You get two months to make this fued big or its gonna cost your title shots in the future." Y/N nodded, excited to turn babyface as she had never been one before. She's always played a heel. Alexa was used to the heel role as she played one before in NXT.

Y/N obviously wasn't excited about a fued with her ex girlfriend Charlotte but if it gave her a title then she'd make the most of it. "Also, we're gonna slowly ease you into a tag team but you're still gonna hate each other, you just get along sometimes. It's like a opposite personalities kinda thing," Triple H added. "If it gets me a title shot then I can work with a tag team for now," Y/N said. "Is that all?" Hunter nodded and Y/N walked out without another word. Alexa sighed and she and Triple H began discussing more about her fued and character.

»»────── 𓆩♡𓆪 ──────««

It was the next week and Alexa was in the ring cutting a promo about how excited she was to be apart of the SmackDown brand. That was until she was cut off by Y/N's music and the crowd booed her in which she just ignored them. She wore a white crop top with some jeans and some sneakers, something really basic as she wasn't one for flashy clothing. Plus her character was more of a idgaf kinda character. "Well well well, if it isn't the cheerleader from NXT! Where's your little buddies? They didn't get drafted up with you? Aww," Y/N fake pouted, walking down the ramp.

"What do you want?" Alexa asked, a little taken back by the comments of Y/N. "Oh me? Yeah no I don't really want anything. I'm just here to be here. And sweetheart I've been here wayyy longer than you so I pretty much do whatever I want." Y/N stepped onto the ring apron and stepped into the ring making Alexa back up slightly. "You know for someone who's been here longer you haven't really accomplished much have you?" Alexa asked with a sweet smile. The crowd laughed at her comeback on Y/N who was visibly pissed at her audacity. "I'm a four time Women's Champion. That's more than you've done in your entire career so I'd watch your pretty mouth next time. If you want to be here in my ring and address this crowd then you have to earn it," Y/N stated.

"Okay. Then I'll earn it. Me and you right here, right now!" Alexa challenged. Y/N licked her lips and laughed, stepping back and sliding out of the ring. "Nah," Y/N shrugged, walking back up the ramp without another word. That was only the beginning of what was to come.

»»────── 𓆩♡𓆪 ──────««

(a month later)

Every week Y/N would always throw an insult or push around Alexa and the crowd loved every second of it. They even had a match last week and Y/N came out with the win but Alexa stuck her out of to her out of respect in which Y/N just walked pass her with zero emotion. But today, oh today was a different day. Last week Charlotte Flair had called out Y/N on Monday Night Raw. And obviously Y/N was not gonna let that slide. So she was out there to address the crowd tonight and call out Charlotte Flair who was in the building tonight. Y/N's music hit and she walked out, mic in a hand, glasses over her eyes and a steel chair in hand. Y/N stepped in the ring and set the chair up before taking a seat on it and leaning back.

Alexa watched backstage with a hitched breath, seeing Y/N in the leaned back position but images in her head that she felt she shouldn't even be imagining. It was obvious Y/N was still getting over her breakup with Ashley. And it's not like Y/N even acknowledged Alexa half the time. They'd cross paths and Y/N wouldn't even look at her, she'd just nod and walk past her. She was starting to wonder if Y/N hated her. "So you're all probably wondering what I'm out here for. Yeah last week I took a nasty bump so you probably think I'm injured but I'm perfectly fine. No no no, I'm out here to address the elephant in the room. Charlotte Flair." Y/N spoke, pulling off her glasses and clipping them on her tank top.

"See Charlotte Flair had no right calling me out on Raw as if I didn't whoop her ass countless times. She really had a lot to say about me. And I really don't know what I did so bad for her to call me some useless bully with no talent. Am I really a bully? I don't think I am. I prefer the term, snake. And I'll admit, I am a snake. I've turned my back on Charlotte several times. It's not my fault she managed to make everything about her. I don't blame Bayley and Sasha for turning on her. They just did what Becky Lynch is scared to do. Charlotte is scared of being alone. You wanna know how I know that?"

"Well I'll tell you anyways. See Charlotte's always been the chosen one. In middle school, in high school, in NXT. Meanwhile women like Bayley, Sasha Banks, Becky Lynch, Naomi, Tamina, Natalya, Emma, Alicia Fox, and many more couldn't even earn an opportunity to shine because Vincent Kennedy McMahon likes the young pretty blondes on his TV. Charlotte hasn't earned half the things she's been given. Because all the women I just listed, they've beaten her and where is their Championship? Where is my championship?! Charlotte Flair is always gonna be alone because if shes not in the spotlight then nobody can be and shes scared of that. So I'll tell you where my championship is. It's shoved so far up Charlotte's a-" Y/N was cut off by Charlotte's music.

Y/N clenched her jaw and bit her lip in anger. Everyone knew Y/N hated to be cut off. Charlotte walked out, Dana Brooke by her side like always. "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N....why are you so obsessed with me?" Y/N scoffed, watching as Charlotte walked down the ramp, her title around her waist. "I mean it's bad enough you're obsessed with poor little Alexa Bliss. But now you're moving onto me? Is it because i dumped you?" Charlotte laughed. Y/N looked down, still clenching her jaw and she could snap at any moment. "Oh right, I forgot you're still not over that," Charlotte frowned fakly and stepping in the ring.

Y/N still didn't move from her spot on her chair and continued to chew her gum with an annoyed face. "You done?" Y/N asked, raising an annoyed brow. "Hmmmm not really but it's embarrassing to see you not speak so I'll pause just for you," Charlotte hummed. Y/N stood up and kicked the chair the side, "I think you're forgetting that you called me out, you brought my name into your mouth and you showed up on my brand. So I suggest you rethink your decision before I rearrange your face so you won't be Championship material in anyone's eyes," Y/N spat out at Charlotte.

"Oh so you're saying that you're Championship material? You?" Charlotte deadpanned and Y/N nodded with a shrug. "Yeah but I'm not gonna be a cocky bitch like you and remind everyone each week," Y/N said. The crowd laughed and Charlotte clenched her jaw, clearly embarrassed. "I'm done here. I don't have to listen to this," Charlotte said, turning to walk away but Y/N grabbed her wrist. "Yeah well I'm not." Charlotte scoffed and sent a cheap shot to Y/N's face, laying her out so Dana kicked and attacked her.

Charlotte grabbed the chair and went to hit Y/N in the back until, the crowd suddenly burst into loud cheers when the music of Alexa Bliss hit and she ran out to Y/N's defense. Charlotte and Dana slid out immediately noticing Alexa holding a kendo stick in hand. Alexa slid in and shouted some threats at the two before walking over to Y/N who sat in the corner of the ring with a look of surprise. Alexa stuck her hand out to Y/N who looked around at the crowd that began the Daniel Bryan 'YES!" chants. Charlotte and Dana shouted 'no' as they knew if Alexa and Y/N teamed up then it would be the end for them.

Y/N let out a breath and took Alexa's hand, letting Alexa help pull her up and the crowd went nuts for it. Y/N and Alexa walked to the ropes shouting threats back and forth with Dana and Charlotte. Y/N picked up the mic and leaned forward on the ropes, "You and your little protégé versus me and The Goddess on Raw! I'll see you there because the minute I see you next week it's going down!" Y/N threw the mic and her music played all as the crowd cheered and Charlotte and Dana were having a meltdown.

Alexa grinned and hugged Y/N stiffened up out of surprise, that obviously not being scripted so she had no idea how to react. But the crowd was going nuts for it and the reactions were gold. Y/N still with a confused look, put an arm around Alexa's shoulder and it was basically Y/N showing some kind of affection so the crowd loved it. This team was over as hell and Vince McMahon was eating it up.

»»────── 𓆩♡𓆪 ──────««

That's how Y/N and Alexa were told they would now be a tag team until it was time for their title fueds. Basically this storyline got extended way longer than it should've been. Y/N didn't mind because it meant she was getting TV time and a big check. The only downside was that she had to now train with Alexa so they could rehearse their matches together, create a tag team finisher, a gimmick for their selves, and anything that could help with their chemistry. Alexa obviously wasn't complaining about spending time with her. That was until Y/N brought along Randy so now it definitely felt like Alexa was just third wheeling their sister and brother relationship.

Y/N pulled her gym bag on her shoulder and walked into the PC but this time Randy wasn't with her which caught Alexa off guard. "No Randy today?" Alexa asked. She and Y/N still had yet to actually speak a full sentence to each other since Randy basically spoke for Y/N knowing she had no interest in conversation with people she wasn't super familiar with. "Nah he's spending time with the wifey so it's just me. I did actually call a friend to come with but they bailed last minute." Y/N shrugged. Alexa nodded, pretending to be upset about that but she Sasha thrilled to actually sit down and talk with Y/N.

"So I was thinking maybe we can start coming up with our finisher because we have our match in a few days on Raw," Alexa said. Y/N just nodded and slid in the ring to stretch, Alexa following her. "Yeah I was talking to my friend about that and she suggested that maybe we just mix our finisher together instead of creating a whole new one," Y/N mumbled. "That's a great idea. What friend came up with that?" Alexa asked, slighty trying to figure out if it was Charlotte's idea. "My friend Kim, she's in ICW. Don't worry she's married to a man." Alexa's eyes widened, hoping Y/N wasn't onto her.

"What do you mean by that?" Alexa asked, trying to play dumb. "You're obviously wondering if Charlotte was that friend, which she was not. We haven't spoken to each other outside of work in weeks. We don't even speak in general unless we're doing a promo together," Y/N stated. "Oh well I was just curious," Alexa mumbled. "Mhm, sure," Y/N shrugged, not thinking too much of it because she didn't really care. "So I was thinking like maybe I do an RKO, then when they're on the floor you basically do the Twisted Bliss finisher," Y/N explained, standing up and popping her neck.

"Oh yeah I love that idea. Wait you know my finisher name?" Alexa asked. "I watched a few of your matches in NXT so I kinda picked up on your moveset," Y/N shrugged, not seeing it as a big deal but a lot of people would considering she almost never felt the need to watch other people's old matches to study moveset. "Oh okay, thanks," Alexa said, smiling to herself.

»»────── 𓆩♡𓆪 ──────««

Y/N slid in the ring and performed an RKO on Dana Brooke, laying her out so Alexa could perform Twisted Bliss. Alexa performed the finisher and pinned Dana to the three count, making the crowd get on their feet and cheer. Alexa immediately ran and hugged Y/N who once again awkwardly patted Alexa's back. The referee lifted their arms, signifying their win before letting them back down. When they got backstage they were congratulated on their performance and Y/N immediately left to catering where Bayley was holding her phone for her. "Thanks," Y/N said, taking her phone and going to sit on a random stage box.

As she sat down she was approached by Charlotte who sat down next to her. "What do you want Ashley? You dumped me, you left me, you ruined it. I don't need any explanation from you and I sure as hell don't wanna be friends." Before Charlotte could even get a word out, Y/N walked off without even hearing what Charlotte had to say. Charlotte let out a sigh and Alexa walked over to her, "I'm kinda biased because she's my tag partner but I think you should just let her be. She's made it clear she doesn't wanna be friends or get together," Alexa stated, patting Charlotte's shoulder and walking over to Bayley and Sasha.

»»────── 𓆩♡𓆪 ──────««

Three weeks later it was Smackdown and Y/N had a match tonight against Carmella, from what was scheduled but she was cutting a promo in the ring first. "Now three weeks ago myself and my tag partner Alexa Bliss beat Charlotte Flair and Dana Brooke. And for some reason, I thought it was gonna end there. Ya know? But Charlotte just can't accept defeat. Which is why last week she tried to get me alone and twist her way into my mind to turn me against my partner Alexa Bliss. And I don't take kindly to people trying to manipulate me." Y/N said, sitting criss cross in the middle on the ring.

"And so I was wondering how did Charlotte manage to get me alone? If Alexa is with me at all times? And so I asked Alexa where she was and she told me that Carmella and her little friends, locked Alexa in the locker room. And I think we all know by now is that I really don't like when someone messes with the people I care about. So, I challenged Carmella to a match earlier today and I have yet to get my answer so Carmella, if you could come on out here that would be greatly appreciated. And once I'm done with you, I'll put my focus back on Charlotte Flair."

Y/N stood up and looked to the jumbotron with the audience and that's when they suddenly showed Carmella walking into Y/N and Alexa's shared locker room. Alexa immediately looked away from the television and glared at Carmella, "What are you doing in our room?" Carmella chuckled and crossed her arms over her chest, "Relax, I just wanna talk to you. It's about Y/N." Alexa furrowed her brows and crossed her arms, squinting at Carmella in suspicion. "What about her?"

"I really hate to be the bearer of bad news but I think she's thinking about leaving you for Charlotte. I saw them talking last week and they looked really close. I also noticed how Y/N didn't ask you to come out with her, maybe she just doesn't need you anymore so she's to let you down easy," Carmella said with a fake frown. Alexa looked down, not wanting to believe what Carmella was saying but it was hard not to when Y/N was being more distant. "Why should I believe you when you and your little friends locked me in the locker room?" Alexa glared at her, not even caring what Carmella had to say anymore.

"You know what? I don't care. Get out!" Alexa snapped. Carmella clenched her jaw, "Fine, fine you win," She went to turn around, only to sucker punch Alexa in the face. Y/N seen this and immediately went to run out of the ring until Natalya, Lana and Tamina, three of Carmella's lackies, attacked her from behind. As Alexa finally shoved Carmella into the wall, she turned to look at the TV that showed Y/N being attacked. "She's always there for you. Will you be there for her?" Carmella chuckled, getting up and tackling Alexa, both of them going at it until security had to pull them apart.

Y/N tried her best to fight back but only got kicked down each time. That's when the crowd went absolutely insane hearing Charlotte Flairs music. Charlotte ran down the ramp literally in heels and hit Lana with a big boot on the outside. Charlotte slid in the ring but Tamina and Natalya slid out before she could attack. Y/N leaned onto her left shoulder, holding her midsection in pain, thinking Charlotte would now attack her. But instead Charlotte leaned down and comforted her whilst glaring at Lana, Tamina, and Natalya.

Alexa finally managed to pull from the security and run down to the gorilla but when she finally got the stage, nobody was in the ring anymore. The crowd chanted 'CHARLOTTE SAVED HER!' and Alexa's face showed a clear sign of sadness but also a look of jealousy and anger.

Backstage when the segment was finished Alexa found Y/N actually having a conversation with Charlotte. She furrowed her brows in confusion when she noticed Y/N had actually smiled at Charlotte. Y/N never smiled. Alexa sighed and sat down on the stage box, close enough to where she could eavesdrop. "So, do you maybe wanna grab some coffee later? I know a good place nearby," Charlotte said. Y/N hummed in thought, she had planned to do some late night training with Alexa but maybe she could cancel. Alexa wouldn't be that mad would she?

"Uh yeah sure, I gotta cancel training but yeah, I'm down," Y/N said. Alexa gaped in offense and jealousy which she would never admit to.

»»────── 𓆩♡𓆪 ──────««

A few weeks more went on and Y/N and Alexa were one of the most talked about tag teams ever. Y/N and Alexa would be scheduled on both brands, fueding with Charlotte and Dana. When Charlotte had saved Y/N when Alexa wasn't there, that did cause a lot of miscommunication and problems between the two. Charlotte was manipulating Y/N all over again and Alexa was sick of it so last week she challenged Charlotte to a match on Smackdown. Off screen, Y/N had been spending a ton of time with Ashley. Even more than she did with Alexa. But the more Y/N distanced from Alexa, the more she realized how she really felt for her tag partner.

She loved her. And not the best friend type of love...

Y/N was sitting down in her shared locker room with Alexa, eating a piece of pizza when Alexa walked in. "Hey, can we talk?" Alexa asked. Y/N gave her a thumbs up and turned off the television before turning to look at Alexa who had just sat down next to her on the couch. "What's up?" Y/N asked, tossing the pizza on her plate and giving Alexa her full attention. "I was gonna ask why you've been so distant lately? You're always canceling our meet ups and most of the time I find out on Twitter that you basically ditched me for Charlotte," Alexa asked, slighty looking away as she didn't want to fully look at Y/N, scared of her reaction.

"Are you implying something? You do realize I'm not obligated to give you my attention every second, right?" Y/N raised a brow, immediately growing an attitude, but that was all to hide what she really wanted to say. Alexa frowned and squinted her eyes at Y/N, "I didn't say that. I'm just kinda bothered that you're not putting in as much work because you're too busy spending time with Charlotte."

Y/N scoffed and stood up, "No no no, I have been putting in my blood sweat and tears to make this team work. Just because I want to hang out with a friend doesn't mean I don't care about this team! I do care, and I show that every week when I walk down that ramp." Now Alexa had scoffed, "Oh yeah? Are you really that sure you're friends? It seems like way more than that to me." Y/N's eyes widened slightly at the accusation and she rolled her eyes, grabbing her bag and getting ready to leave. She wasn't scheduled for a match, she just had to cut a promo backstage for Alexa's match.

"Uh huh, leave. It's what you seem to do best! I mean you sure had no problem bailing on all our plans for Charlotte. Maybe you should go cry to her," Alexa said, causing Y/N to pause in her steps and shut the door. "You literally have no fucking idea what you're talking about! You wanna know why I pushed you away?! Because, I realized how much I actually like spending time with you. And I realized that I fell in love with you when I promised I wouldn't fall in love ever again. And maybe, just maybe, that scared the shit out of me, so I pushed you away, because I haven't felt this way about anyone since Ashley. So I'm sorry." Y/N stormed out before Alexa could even get a word out.

»»────── 𓆩♡𓆪 ──────««

Y/N walked down the halls, holding her duffle bag on her shoulder and heading down to the parking lot to leave. The show was finished, Alexa won her match but could barely focus on celebrating it because Y/N wasn't by her side. Y/N had powered her phone off as well so she ignored every single call and text she got from Lexi. Y/N cursed under her breath seeing Lexi standing beside her car which was parked right next to Y/N's motorcycle. Y/N immediately tossed her duffle bag on the back, not even sparing Lexi a glance which made her frown. As Y/N goes to hop on her bike, Lexi grabs her arm, stopping her.

"Can we talk in the car?" Lexi asked. Y/N licked her lips and reluctantly agreed after a few seconds of silence. Lexi walked around to the driver's side and Y/N hopped in the passenger seat. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Y/N finally decided to break it. "I meant it, ya know? Every word," she mumbled. Lexi suddenly grabbed Y/N by her jacket and pulled their lips together. It didn't take Y/N long to kiss back with more passion. Lexi pulled away first for breath and leaned her forehead against Y/N's, "I love you too." She mumbled. A smile grew on Y/N's face and she kissed Lexi again, and they pulled away after a few seconds to breath.

"I literally had the biggest crush on you for years, like way before I even met you," Lexi admitted. Y/N chuckled and leaned back in the seat. "If I met you sooner, I can guarantee that I would most definitely had liked you back."

Two days later, Y/N and Lexi both cuddled on Lexi's sofa, binge watching Disney movies.

[nestvrn]

Mate

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

word count: 630

"Mate"

He said and it made me instantly turn around. His voice called to me, it always did, although I turned to look at him but not because of the way he growled it. Mate. No, I did it because I had felt him long before I heard him. I felt him open the front door slowly, as if trying not to scare me, then walk down the hall, his steps almost silent and clear, up the stairs and then to our bedroom. Our. The word still felt foreign both on my tongue and in my mind. Although it has already been over three months since our first meeting on that battlefield and two months since we both accepted the mating bond, I still couldn't get used to it. I couldn't get used to calling him my mate, sleeping next to him, being in his arms, breathing in his smell whenever he left me in this house as if he were still there, somewhere here, which sometimes made me shiver.

Looking away from the mirror, I met his gaze. I knew he hated it when I ignored him as, though I swear sometimes it was everything I wanted to do, that day was different. He had finally returned from another battle. He had been away for almost a week. A week that almost let me forget about him. Almost. We both knew it could never happen. Accepting the mating bond made sure of that.

"You're back"

"You're not happy, I take it?"

That could be the longest we've talked about anything for a while. Except for that one time we screamed at each other when I had had enough of him running around me as if I were a child but his instincts had the better of him. After that frenzy week, after what he did to me, he thought it would change something, but it didn't. Because it couldn't. Yes, I had accepted the mating bond, but there was no love between us. No soft cuddles, no kisses to the temples that lit me up. None of that. Instead, there was the cold gaze of my eyes and the hunger of his. Now that things have settled down a little bit, he doesn't crave me every minute of every hour of every day. No, it's just a little bit less than that. But even after that one time he showed his other side, showed his kind of love and care for me, I snapped at him, and things went back to where they started. Hatred.

"I never said such a thing" Was all I replied while turning back to the mirror and returning to brushing my hair.

"I've missed you, mate" The way he whispered it, right into my neck. Damn, I didn't even notice him get close as if my own body felt that he became my comfort zone, that he was alright and wouldn't hurt me.

"You're tired of fucking your hoes then?" Words sharp as a knife. We both knew it wasn't true, not after we met at least, but it still hurt something deep inside me, something very deep.

"Jealous, aren't we?" His laughter woke something in me. "Don't worry, mate, there is no one like you. If you only let me show it to you, though. Prove it. As you once let me" He became serious once again. "Mate" A plea left his lips

"No" I said firmly and left the stool I was sitting on as I went straight to the bathroom. He did it again, used his mating scent, his voice, those hands that slid up and down my arms. He was just being him. And it terrified me. Because it made me want him even more.

The author's note: this is something really new to me and it's my first take on fanfiction. This is something based on nessian and acotar mating idea. This is actually a very raw draft of something I have in mind, so please let me know if there's something you like or don't like. + English is not my native language so sorry for any mistakes too😅

[slafkovskys]

Angst 7 with jack hughes, possibly some brother angst

7. “do you think about them when you look at me?”

you’d known jack for a while, so it was easy for you to tell when things were off. to say that it was the first day that he was acting cold towards you, would be a lie. in fact, it had been going on for the better part of the summer ever since he had come home from new jersey. instead of grabbing onto your hand when you had held it out, he had brushed past you easily and started walking alongside jim, leaving you to walk with quinn. you cross your arms over your chest and quinn nudges your side with his elbow, “look at us, the alumni are back.”

you swallow the lump in your throat, tearing your gaze away from the back of jack’s head to glance at his older brother, “i think to be alumni, you have to graduate, and that only applies to one of us.”

“oh, that’s how it’s gonna be,” he laughs, throwing his arm over your shoulder and you giggle as you shove him away. the noise draws jack’s attention and he turns his head, face falling as he spots the two of you. he sends the both of you a glare before turning his head around. quinn makes a noise, “what was that for?”

“he’s been acting like that ever since we got to your parent’s house. has he-,” you lower your voice because you now knew that he was listening to you, “has he said anything to you? like, at any point this summer?”

“this has been going on all summer?”

you shrug your shoulders, “only when we-”

“‘when we’ what, y/n?” he raises his eyebrows as he shoves his hands in his pockets. you were getting closer to your cars now and you were about to be separated from quinn, but it all started to make sense. he chuckles, “so you’re just gonna leave me hanging?”

“it’s when we’re around you, quinn. he only acts like this – gets cold and acts like someone pissed in his cereal – when you’re there,” you look at quinn and he freezes. you can see jack’s car when the lights flash as he unlocks and you stop alongside quinn, “is he- did you- you said that he was okay with it. he told me that he was okay with it.”

that was the thing with you and jack, jack wasn’t the first hughes that you had been involved with. you were a couple of years older than your boyfriend, meaning you and quinn were the same age. you had met quinn in high school during his time with the ntdp. it wasn’t until college where you started messing around with each other. it fizzled out after a couple of months, but you and quinn decided to stay friends.

you had met jack through quinn, obviously, and from the moment that you met him his crush on you was obvious. he was quinn’s little brother though, and that was a boundary that you didn’t want to cross.

well, until jack invited you to the draft. he was thrilled when you pulled on his jersey for a picture (just as you had done for quinn the year before) and to this day his lock screen was a picture of you, new jersey devils hat perched atop your head and a big smile on your face. it wasn’t until just before new years during his first season that you finally agreed to go out with him and here you were, almost two years later, about to move out to new jersey with him for the season.

with the way that he had been acting, however, you were starting to second guess your decision.

“he knows the truth. i told him a million times that it doesn’t bother me and that the feelings i had for you are gone. we’re friends, y/n,” he insists and you nod. you hear someone clear their throat and you both look at jack, who’s suddenly a few feet from you.

“are you going back with quinn and my dad?” jack’s question is directed towards you, but he’s staring holes through his brother.

“if that’s gonna be how you speak to her, yeah she is,” quinn steps up and your hand wraps around his elbow, a move that jack takes notice of. “y/n-”

“it’s fine, q, see you at skeeps, yeah?”

quinn pulls you close, which really doesn’t help the situation, and his mouth hovers over your ear, “if he says anything to you or if you need me, text me. my dad and i will set him straight.”

he presses his lips to the side of your head, shoves his brother as he passes him, and gets into the passenger seat of their dad’s car. you and jack stare at each other for a moment before he holds out his hand. you give him the same treatment that he had given you, pushing past him to get into the car.

you stare out of the window as he gets in the driver’s seat, starting the car and pulling out of his spot. he gets behind his dad and with the post-game traffic, you knew it was likely you would be here for a while. “what is wrong with you jack?”

he scoffs, “there’s nothing wrong-”

“please don’t lie to me. i’m about to pick up and move my whole life to jersey for you in two weeks and if that’s-” your voice cracks as tears threaten to spill out of your eyes, “if that’s gonna be a mistake, i want to know now.”

“why would it be a mistake?”

“because of you, jack,” you lean your head back against the headrest and look at him. his hand rests on the steering wheel and his jaw is tight, “you’re not the same guy that you were a few months ago. you’re so, so cold towards me. like, we sleep in the same bed every night, but i have never felt further away from you.”

his breath hitches.

“can you please just tell me what’s going on? because if it’s about me and quinn-”

“do you think about him when you look at me?” his words make you tense up. he doesn’t look at you as he inches forward out of the parking lot, flicking on his blinker to go in the direction of his parents’ house. “when you look at me do you wish that i was quinn?”

“jack,” your voice shakes, “whatever happened between me and quinn is over. it’s in the past. you said that when we got together you were fine that we had history, but that you didn’t care.”

“he looks at you, y/n. he looks at you the way that i look at you. anyone can see that he still has feelings for you. the way that you acted around him at the game earlier-”

“how did i act, jack? because my boyfriend was ignoring me and i didn’t want to mope around the whole night? is that why you’re upset?”

“i’m upset because i’ll never be quinn,” his words form a pit in your stomach, but his next sentence makes your whole world crumble, “is that why you’re with me? because you couldn’t have quinn, you settled for his little brother.”

“jack, oh my god, i didn’t settle,” you reach out to grab onto his arm, but once again, he pulls it away, “me and quinn, we weren’t anything serious, ever. we’re better off as friends and that was a mutual decision. to this day, we still feel that way.

“i was with him tonight because you were acting like you wanted nothing to do with me and it was obvious. everyone fucking noticed, jack. do you know how embarrassing it was to get looks of pity because i was being shooed away by my boyfriend?”

“you were embarrassed?” he spits, “my girlfriend was all over my brother. even niko noticed.”

“you’re not even listening to me!” you let out an exasperated sigh and the two of you fall into silence. it stays like that for a minute before you break it, “take me home.”

“that’s where we’re going,” he scoffs.

“no, i don’t want to go to your parents’ house. i want to go to my house, alone.”

his eyes flick to you and he shakes his head before changing lanes, “whatever.”

ten of the most painstakingly quiet minutes of your life pass before he pulls into the guest spot of your apartment. your hand wraps around the door handle and you pause, turning to look at him for the final time, “i love you jack, so much, but if this is going to keep coming back up and being an issue, i think that it’s best that we don’t see each other anymore.”

“so, what does that mean?” he keeps his eyes glued to the building in front of him, hand covering his mouth, “we aren’t together anymore?”

“i think we both have some things that we need to figure out before we have that conversation,” you slide out of the car and plant your feet on the ground, closing the door.

you make it up onto the sidewalk before he calls out your name softly. you turn to look at him and you can see his watery eyes, “i love you.”

“let me know when you get home, please. you know that i worry,” you send him a nod before turning and making your way up the stairs to your apartment. he waits until you get inside before pulling away from your complex. you watch his tail lights as they disappear into the night and you wonder,

what did i just do?

[starlightinmeshallshineonyou]

Begin Again (Marc Spector and Steven Grant x Reader Fanfiction [A Moon Knight Fanfiction])

(A/N: GIF isn’t mine, please kindly check the maker of this GIF! [@devilish-mirage​])

Pairing: Marc Spector and Steven Grant x Reader ( or Steven Grant and Marc Spector x Reader)

Word Count: 688

Warnings: It’s a short fic.

Summary: Knowing a person that you hold dearly along the years.

A/N: This has been in my draft for about 4 months now because I didn’t know how this going to end. So might as well post it here lol! 

———

You and Marc weren’t really friends anymore in high school.

You remembered Marc was kind when you guys were in junior high school. He adored telling you about this adventurer called Dr. Grant. Honestly, you didn’t really pay any attention to what he said back then (because you didn’t know who the hell Dr. Grant was). But what made you pay attention to him was because of the way he talked about who Dr. Grant was.

The seasons changed along with the years, and of course, with Marc too. You didn’t know that Marc attended the same high school as you are. You noticed him when you were in mid semester. You yelled, “Marc!” Waving your arms to him.

You knew in your heart that he heard you, but he didn’t turn his head to you. Back then you just waved it off. Maybe he doesn’t recognize my voice now, you thought.

The next day you went to the cafeteria and saw him sitting alone. He sat straight; his jacket printed to his shoulders blade sharply. His sharp jaw moved around as he chewed his food. Purple colored underneath his eyes. Has he gotten any sleep lately? You thought.

You screamed internally as you strode to him and greeted, “Hey, Marc!”

He looked up and for a second you saw his eyes dilated, but soon turned back into those cold eyes you never knew he had. “What?” He asked sharply.

You were taken aback at his reply. You’d never met this version of him: cold and unfriendly. So, you gave up that easily, knowing your heart couldn’t take it anymore, “Nothing, my mistake. Sorry I called you. Don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

You ran into class, ignoring the attention and the whispering from the other students.

———

You were studying Egyptian myth for your thesis. You were working your ass off for your future. You didn’t know why you wanted to learn and become a future professor that taught Egyptian myth. There was something that called you to take this journey.

Because tomorrow you’d have a conversation with your professor, you needed to get the first draft of your thesis done right now. But you still had to complete some research on artifacts that correlated to Egyptian time.

You went into the National Art Gallery. It stood tall with its giant pillars. Many people went in and out at the entrance of the gallery. First time you went into the art gallery, you were amazed by the number of people there. It was so packed with people of amazing interest. From people with classy style to students who had some work to do.

You dove into the crowd as you scanned your surroundings. The place was beautiful, the layout of this place wasn’t small, but rather spacious. The space between ‘art’ itself had a generous amount of space, so people weren’t crowding the whole place.

You walked peacefully as you memorized every step that you took in this place. This place was something you couldn’t forget. You needed to make a journal entry after you were done with the day.

You were taking some notes when you heard someone talking, “Khonshu, God of  the moon. You see, he—”

You looked to the side and saw him again. It felt like your heart was beating for the first time again, yet breaking at the same time. He stood beside you like how you’d imagine him when he was older: sharp and rough surface. “Marc,” you breathed out his name.

“I-I’m sorry. My name is Steven,” he chuckled, pointing at his name tag. “With a V.”

You looked down at his name tag and frowned. Is he for real? You hadn’t seen him in a very long time and he pulled this crap? But your doubts died down when you saw his face: innocent and true. Am I hallucinating? “Right, I’m sorry uhm— Steven, yes.”

He nodded happily. “And you are?”

You were, once again, caught off guard. You smiled as you brought your arms to him. “Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.”

———

A/N: I’m sorry this is a short fic. I tend to aim 1k at most, but I got stuck with this particular fic lol! And don’t worry, now I have the time to write since I’m on my semester break. The next fic I probably going to post is Matt Murdock x Reader since it was close to finish. I just need to write the ending and edit it first. Hope you have a great day 🙌🏻🙌🏻💕💕.

[twistedmusings]

Yandere prompt 21 with Azul please? Congratulations on 400!! (:

A/N: I do not know why I enjoy writing Azul so mean. The Octavinelle chapter showed him going from capitalistic business man to underwater crybaby and I have never been more hooked into a character in my life. Like yes he can be charming and charismatic but the moment he gets into baby mode he is a rather verbally abusive yandere, in my opinion. 

Azul Ashengrotto 

“What do you want?” 

Azul tightened the grip on his quill as you glared at him, your hands bound together by golden string as you sat pretty in the love seat across from him. His hand relaxed as he kept writing the terms of the shoddily made contract, the spelling mistakes and run on sentences being ignored in favor of finishing it as soon as possible. 

“If you have to ask me then you really don’t know the severity of your situation.” 

Today. It was happening today. 

That useless headmaster had somehow succeeded in finding a portal back to your world and had so jovially mentioned how you were all cleared to go back to your wretched world today. 

But not if he could help it. 

Azul almost felt bad about tricking you like this. Although he guessed that he should have started feeling bad when he first thought of the idea. 

After you had used Kingscholar to null all of his contracts, Azul had gained a new respect for you. A respect that slowly turned to affection and then quickly molded itself into obsession. At first he thought it was love, and he guessed that in some sense there was a hint of love in his desire for you, but the overwhelming feeling of want erased any possible romantic endeavors he might have pursued. 

You. Impossible, magicless, kind you. 

Why could you do no wrong in his eyes? You weren’t particularly smart nor did you have any talent that he could profit from. But the months went on and his eyes slowly opened to the appeal that you held behind that normal exterior. 

You were kind. 

To someone who had to undergo the jeers and the taunts of his classmates for all of his elementary school life, this was like handing the secret of success to the poorest man on the street. 

He had tested it too, just how far you could go with this kindness of yours. 

Azul would knock the books of your hands by ‘accident’, hit the back of your legs with his cane by ‘accident, one time he managed to get away with burning your hand on one of the stoves in the Monstro Lounge kitchen. You had cried out in pain (he had saved the sound for later use) and had immediately turned to him for some sort of spell that would at least lessen the burn. 

He, of course, had immediately apologized and told you that this is why you shouldn’t be placing your hand on whatever surface you see fit. You never knew what could hurt you. And instead of yelling at him for turning the stove on or for not even looking where your hand was placed before turning it on, you had just sniffled and smiled as you forgave him and cleared him of any fault. 

That as your first mistake. Surely you were kind but kind people never made it in the world. 

Which is why you should be nothing but grateful to him as he drafts this contract for you.

If this was any other situation this would be pretty normal, you had him draft contracts for you all the time. You would ask for simple favors here and there and Azul would make sure that the price you would pay was either small favors  or just some moments of your time. The terms were short and sweet, simple that even a child could understand them. 

And that simplicity had lulled you into a false sense of confidence. Enough for Azul to trap you with nothing but words and legalities. 

The lost contract you had signed held a hidden clause, one you hadn’t even bothered to look at due to how ‘simple’ his contracts with you tended to be. 

[Should the claimant find a way back to their world and have the intent to go back, the terms agreed upon in this contract will be considered null and void and the claimant will report to Azul Ashengrotto immediately.] 

A part of him regretted not being there for when Crowley broke the news to you. How had the headmaster reacted when gold strings appeared in your wrists before forcefully pushing them together while your feet led you straight to Octavinelle. 

His hand shook as he kept writing, biting his bottom lip as he tried to drown out your questions. 

“Azul just talk to me! I’m not supposed to be here right now, Crowley said--”

“I know what that mongrel said, Prefect, the contract wouldn’t have activated if you two were just talking about trivial things.” 

Sky blue eyes look up at you. 

“I’m surprised the idiot found a way to get you back home.” 

Your surprise was rather welcome, another expression he hadn’t seen you make in a while. 

“Then...if you know...” you bite your bottom lip before moving your bound hands side to side, “If you know then let me go! I have completed the terms to all of your contracts, you signing off on each one!”

He puts a hand over his face, laughing as you continued to speak. 

You still weren’t getting it. 

“The portal only lasts 24 hours, if I don’t go to the Mirror Chamber now its strength will slowly start to melt away!” 

Come on, open your eyes! Can’t you see what he is doing? 

“Azul I need to leave! You can’t just keep me here I haven’t done anything against you!” 

You were trying to leave! That was the only offense he needed to take action. 

“Azul!” 

Shut up. Shut up! 

“What could you possibly want from me!” 

“YOU!” 

The quill in his hand breaks as he slams it on the ground, glaring at you as he grabs your bound wrists and makes you stand up to look at him face to face. 

“All I want is you.” his expression softens as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “All I ever wanted was you.” 

His eyes darken before he picks up another quill and thrusts it into your bound hands, the sharp point break skin inside your palms. The contract he had drafted up was probably filled with nothing but ramblings about how you were now supposed to stay only by his side, be kind only to him and to never ever EVER mention your world ever again lest he starts truly punishing you for breaking an agreement. 

But it was a completed contract nonetheless. A piece of paper that he would guard with his life because it was the only thing keeping you here with him. 

“Now.” Azul grinned as he places the piece of paper down and presses a kiss against your forehead, the tip of the quill pressing onto the parchment as he slowly led your hands into signing your name, “Let’s go tell Crowley that you won’t be needing that silly mirror after all, okay? Who knows? I might just lose control and break it myself~”

[cuquitalocita]

the hot girl from physics class- rowaelin

AN: okay this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS and i just found it again. this is literally just self indulgent bickering with absolutely not plot in mind. also my first time writing rowaelin because i had no desire to butcher them so... anyway here’s to first tries and i hope you all enjoy!

main masterlist

~~

Rowan’s mouth tasted of metal.  Or maybe it was blood.  

The second thing that hit him was the inability to breathe through his mouth as he attempted to swallow a mouthful of nonexistent air.  The motion sent his eyes shooting open, immediately registering that while his mouth was covered, his nose was not, and he managed a large inhale of hot air before exploding into a rage of rough coughs that left him breathless and once again on the verge of blacking out.  Rowan thrashed in what seemed to be a chair, quickly realizing that both his arms and legs were bound tighter than he thought possible, and no amount of lacrosse training could prepare him for the fatigue he felt at that moment.  The dark spots in his vision didn’t seem to help either and his sweat shone skin seemed to melt in on itself as he took a few more breaths through his nose, slower this time until he was somewhat steady.  

It was only then he felt stable enough to figure out what the hell had happened.  The last thing he remembered was excusing himself to go to the bathroom before the bus was supposed to take off.  He had been walking down the empty hallway one moment and the last thing he could recall was the strange sensation of being as light as a feather before darkness overtook him.  And now he was here.  And… where was here exactly?

A sort of warehouse it seemed, with tall metal walls and a lofted ceiling, freezing regardless of the fact that it was barely fall meaning it was most likely abandoned.  Night shone through the glass windows he identified to his right and left and across from him sat-

“CELEANA?” Rowan attempted to scream out, his cloth-filled mouth muffling the sound to almost nothing.  But he was right, and his vision refused to fail him as his eyes widened at the hot girl from physics class who now sat across from him in a much more comfortable looking chair than his hard wooden one, sporting casual leggings, a stained t-shirt, an insanely messy bun, and the smuggest expression he had ever seen. Strands of golden hair sprang out every which way and Rowan was hit with the inherent desire to smooth it out himself. His heart did terrified somersaults as he took in her (clearly) laid back posture and bored eyes and he stiffened as Celeana pulled up one of her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around it, one of her hands clutching a small book.  It was only then he noticed the highlighter sticking out from between her teeth.  If he wasn’t gagged, he would’ve been gaping.  She was studying.  

“Well look who’s awake,” she mused, her voice somehow sounding deeper than it had before.  Rowan couldn’t deny how smooth it sounded and how naturally it suited her.  “Hey, sleeping beauty.”  There was no mistaking the smirk that curled onto her lips and the sparkle in her unique turquoise eyes as she gazed at him, her look solely calculating as she took him in from head to toe, zeroing in on something close to his head.  

The tip of the gun was colder than he imagined it would be, the hard metal sending a shock through his entire body and forcing a scream out of his mouth, damning the gag.  The sound was just as muffled as he thought it would be, barely loud enough to alert anyone within a four-foot radius to his whereabouts.  Still, he didn’t relent.  He screamed with everything.  He screamed with his anger, he screamed with his disgust, he screamed with his confusion, and he even screamed with his sadness, the emotion he hadn’t felt since his mother had died.

When the blonde had waltzed into his physics class for the first time two weeks ago sporting a bright grin and gleaming eyes, Rown hadn’t known what to expect. It certainly wasn’t the charming and positively addictive person he ended up meeting. Elegant and beautiful Rowan had been unable to tear his eyes away from her, even as she deliberately placed herself in the seat next to him, shooting him a brilliant smile. Celeana had been wholly consuming, something Rowan was now kicking himself for, and the two had fallen into an easy conversation, him unable to hold up his usually angry exterior when it came to her. They had flirted- quite a lot, if he remembered correctly and despite his constant lacrosse practices, Rowan had even found himself agreeing to help her with her physics homework. It had only taken one word from her cursing Einstein and Rowan knew he was done for. He hadn’t gotten the chance to ask her out yet- he had meant to do it after his game today. So what in hellas was he doing here?

Rowan screamed until his throat gave out, his wide eyes never faltering as he stared in what was pure shock at Celeana across from him, who seemed to be doing nothing but gazing at him, her eyes cold and calculating, a contrast to the small quirk at the corner of her lips.  By the time his throat gave out and his eyes yearned to drop shut in exhaustion, Celeana had closed her book and tucked the highlighter on top of her ear.  She wasn’t watching him anymore; instead, her gaze was fixed next to him, to the person who most certainly held the gun to his head.  A gun which Celeana seemed entirely unfazed by.  If anything, her eyes seemed to sparkle more and the other side of her mouth pulled up before she said,

“I win, pay up.”  A shift in sound and the gun behind him before a much deeper and older voice spoke now.

“Actually Miss, you said less than thirty minutes.  I said less than ten.  And it seems it was…” the gun was momentarily lifted from his head as the older man checked something on his arm, allowing him a sharp exhale.  “Seven minutes.  Which means, I won.”  The corner of Celeana’s mouth pulled down in a frown and she glared at the person behind him.

“Oh, you’re no fun Brullo,” she sighed.  “Fine.  I-” she was cut off as he commenced screaming again, louder this time after he had taken a lungful of air.  Her eyes widened for a smidge of a second in surprised shock which quickly faded into her smirk again.  When he finished screaming this time, it was because Celeana was looking him straight in the eyes, her gaze more powerful than should be possible for a girl her age.  And it told him everything he needed to know: he wasn’t going anywhere.  The sound fell from his voice and he glared fire at the girl across from him who only rolled her eyes when he attempted to open his mouth again. Her own fire blazed back at him. 

“Oh my god, are you done?” she asked in exasperation, the smirk no longer on her face, just pure teenage annoyance as she looked back at him.  He was at a loss for words as she put her book down on the ground next to her boots and looked back at him.  “Okay,” she said as if he was a wounded puppy she didn’t know how to approach.  She wasn’t afraid, just wary.  “I’m gonna take the gag off now and please, for the love of the gods, please Ro, don’t even try to scream.  With as much as I love your mouth, and believe me, I really do,” she gave him a wink and he let out a growl laced with disgust and ignoring the electricity in his blood at the look she gave him.  “I have no interest in hearing you any more than I have to today.  Got it?”

He said nothing, his glare unwavering as Celeana stood from her chair and approached him, the gun to his head tensing as if the bearer was more alert than he had been a moment ago.  Rowan wondered exactly how he was supposed to even move when his arms and legs were bound and just to prove it he went still as Celeana leaned forward, her blue eyes suddenly level with his as she reached towards the back of his head and untied the intricate knot in a quick movement of her hands. He attempted not to inhale her intoxicating scent- jasmine and lemon verbatim. She was back in her seat before Rowan could register the air on his mouth and he gulped down a few breaths as he looked at her again, unsurprised to find she was looking at him as well.  His heart did a relay in his chest as his green eyes met her blue ones and she arched a brow, smirking again.

“Like what you see?”  His answering glare said enough until the silence was too much.

“Who are you?” he growled and Celeana laughed coldly, either at him or something else, he didn’t know.  She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and Rowan tried not to focus on it.

“You know who I am,” was all she said.  

“I thought you were Celeana but apparently I don’t know shit considering you kidnapped me and tied me to a chair.”  His voice was ice as he snapped at her and Rowan enforced his point by shaking his arms and legs and wincing at the pain.  Celeana’s gaze showed no sympathy or remorse for him and his heart sunk at the realization that he wasn’t surprised.  He had no idea who this girl was, he realized.  Celeana leaned back in her chair, her posture lazy once more, and began to mess with her nails.  It was only then that Rowan realized they were dark red underneath and he swallowed, his gaze snapping up to Celeana’s.  She followed his eyes with her own in a bemused way until realization struck her and her eyes widened.

“I- oh god, chill out, it’s just Taki dust,” she assured him, holding up a purple bag of spicy chips she pulled out from under the chair as evidence.  She let out a huff of a laugh and shoved the open bag at him in a questioning gesture.  She shoved one in her mouth before asking, “Want one?”  Her voice was almost as muffled as his had been and he glared at her, his eyebrows shooting up to remind her of his arms and legs.  “Fine,” she muttered.  “Have it your way.”  Celeana’s eyes shot up to the person behind Rowan as she dusted her fingers off and something flashed in her eyes before the light weight of the gun was removed from his temple.  He exhaled.

“What do you want from me?  My aunt will-”

“Spare me the family connections pretty boy, we’re not interested.  I will say this, it isn’t personal.”

“Why the hell should I believe anything you said when everything you’ve said so far has been a lie?” he snapped, attempting to find some sort of ground. 

“Well, that just isn’t true.  I really do suck at physics, Ro,” she said smiling, pointing to the book at her feet.  “Hawking is kicking my ass this year,” she grumbled and if she was anyone else he would have laughed.

“Don’t bullshit me, who the hell are you?”  Her eyes sparkled at his defiance and he stiffened as the man who had been holding the gun to his head padded up next to Celeana.  He was easily a foot and a half taller than her, making her look like nothing more than a tiny ant in comparison to him, and he had to be at least his aunt’s age.  But the muscle that quivered beneath his leather jacket was enough of a difference for Rowan.  Celeana’s grin grew.

“Are you gonna drop the ‘woe is me hero act’ any time soon?  I’m just curious as to whether I should get some popcorn or not,” was all she replied.

“Pretty gutsy coming from a girl holding an innocent person against his will,” he snapped back. Faster than he could have thought possible Celeana’s playful expression had shriveled into cold hard menace, the look sending a spineful of shivers down his back and forcing his heart into his throat.  Gone was the girl who enjoyed witty bantering.  In her place was the monster he had painted her as from the moment he had opened his eyes.  Rowan realized he should have taken laid-back Celeana when he had the chance because there was no doubt in his mind that the girl in front of him could and would end his life when given the chance.

Celeana’s posture stiffened and the hand that had been playing with her hair stilled as the man beside her placed a hand on her shoulder.  Whether it was meant to be a warning or a comfort, Rowan didn’t know.  Celeana’s face turned cold, her playful pretense officially vanishing.

She sneered and leaned forward on her elbows until they were almost nose to nose.  Rowan refused to shrink back as much as he wanted to.  The feeling coursing through his veins was unfamiliar to him: fear.  “You know something, prince?” she asked.  Her smirk was purely feral.  “I don’t like you very much.  And I’m not beyond beating your ass to prove it.  So shut up, and do what you’re told and you might live.”  With that, Celeana pushed her hands off of her knees and leaned back in her chair as if nothing had happened.

Rowan swallowed, knowing there was no point in hiding his fear of her.  It was so strong she could probably smell it on him.

“Why am I here?” he snarled.

“That isn’t your concern, and frankly I don’t feel like explaining it to you.”  

“Are you ever going to give me a straight answer?”

“Why would I, when you seem so hell-bent on hating me?” How could he explain to her that he wanted to, gods did he want to. And yet he could still feel his emotions attempting to fight him.  

“Who are you?”

“You tell me.  I think you know.  I think that pretty face is for more than just looks.”  He gulped at the realization that this wasn’t a dream.  He was really sitting in a warehouse, bound to a chair, while full-fledged members of the mafia stared at him. He really hated his aunt sometimes. 

“You don’t look like the rest of them.  You’re-”

“Prettier?  Smarter?  Wittier?  Tell me something I don’t know.” Celeana was picking at her nails again. 

“So what are you supposed to be?  Good cop?”  Her answering smile chilled his bones.

“Something like that.  It would help to tolerate me.”

“You try being friendly with the people holding you prisoner.” Celeana’s smile vanished. 

“You’d be surprised.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Like I’d tell you.”  Rowan was really wishing he had witty Celeana back because this one seemed to hate him just as much as he hated her.  “Now I really suggest shutting the hell up with the questions before that bullet ends up between those pretty little eyes of yours.”

“Miss, your uncle called.  He’ll be home at eight.”  A chill went down his spine as Celeana’s face went white.  He almost thought he was seeing things when something like fear flashed in her eyes for a moment before it was gone and replaced with her smirk again, this one which didn’t quite reach her eyes.  

“Well,” Celeana said, grunting as she stood up and hauled her backpack and book over her shoulder.  “This has been fun, but I’m gonna have to leave you boys to it.”  Rowan knew something was wrong when she blew him a kiss, barely looking over her shoulder as she opened the door to the warehouse, pausing with one foot out.

Celeana turned back to him, the side of her face even more beautiful in the reflecting moonlight. As her eyes met his, Rowan felt pinned in place by the intensity in her own. 

“Aelin,” she said quietly.  “My name is Aelin. My mom used to call me Celeana when we would sneak out of the house together,” she paused before adding, “It wasn’t all a lie.”  With that, she silently slipped out the door, shutting it solidly behind her and leaving Celeana staring at the empty place where she had just been.

It wasn’t all a lie.

~~

drink your water :) 

[hardskz]

bow down.

pairing — bang chan x genderneutral! reader

genre — modern royalty au, drama-ish, smut; sexual tension-ish, hand kink, brat tamer! chan, degradation, leg humping, humiliation

synopsis — you have eyes. prince bang chan is a whole snack. but you also have too high of an ego and can’t seem to accept that prince chan isn’t full of himself unlike the other dozen members of any royal family you’ve met before. alternatively, this is the disney channel movie ‘princess protection program’ but make it porn only.

note — this fic with a wc of 7k+ does not include any spoilers to the movie and you don’t even have to know what the movie is about you’ll get the gist as you read. ngl half of this is from one of my drafts from like 3 years ago and i never continued it so here i am turning it into filth hahahah (and i needed a fresh idea for brat tamer chan and hence why i think the sfw part is better written than the nsfw lmao) rip also pls accept this as the follower milestone gift and 1 year anniversary special :’)

“I’m pretty sure I asked for a puppy for my birthday — which was three months ago may I add — not for a new roommate?”

You look back and forth between Youngjae and the stranger sitting on the couch who is staring back at you with a curious expression. He looks around your age and you admit, his face isn’t the kind of face that makes you thank your parents that genetics did a decent job on you. It’s quite the opposite, actually.

His face is the type of face that makes you ask your parents why genetics didn’t do a better job on yours. Okay, you haven’t reached that stage of visual inferiority yet but that’s mainly because he is dressed in clothes that were trendy in the 15th century or something. The garments clinging to his skin look like a bad fusion of a suit (which college student wears a suit in their free time?) and the ridiculous costume the marching band at your former high school had worn whenever a football game was up. And those weird golden pins clipped on the blazer makes it seem as if he used to be in the marines or comes from a royal bloodline or—

Oh. 

“Don’t mind my cousin, your Highness. (y/n)’s humor has always been questionable.”  Youngjae sends you a glare before he puts on his sweetest smile — you know, the act he puts on whenever he tries to negotiate a bonus with his boss or woo his date — and opts to ignore your presence. “Anyway, since we are dealing with a more serious issue at hand than originally expected, we need to give you a makeover to—“

Before he gets to finish his sentence, you violently tug him away from the prince and despite Youngjae thrashing around and complaining, you manage to send the guest a forced smile and leave his vision. The moment you let go of Youngjae in the neighboring room, he readjusts his collar. “What? Couldn’t you have waited once I was done? Also, was it necessary to crinkle my collar this much?” he hisses but you get straight to the point.

“What is he doing here?”

“Uh, sitting on the couch?”

“That’s not what I mean.” you grit your teeth and land a punch on his arm. “What is he doing here?”

Youngjae looks over your shoulder, making sure that what he’s about to say next is only heard by you. “Prince Chan is,” he hesitates, unsure how to approach his topic. You know it’s taking up his last nerves to conclude a logical explanation as the tip of his tongue pokes out of the corner of his lips; a habit he has adapted ever since he stopped chewing on his bottom lip. “The predicament he’s in is worse than we expected. Well, his dad is partially at fault because he forgot to tell us this not-so-small critical detail that—“

“Youngjae, you’re rambling.”

“The point is.” he sighs and gives you a distressed look as if he already knows you’re not going to like the information at all. “We can’t send him to the family in Goyang, the place he was originally going to stay in. He’s one of the more extreme cases and the Board agreed that he had to live with one of the active combatants to ensure his safety.”

Silence engulfs the kitchen and you know he’s waiting for you to count two and two together.

“He’s going to live here,” you deadpan eventually and Youngjae nods in confirmation.

“I know you’re not very happy—“

“Not very happy is underwhelming.” You earn a flick against your forehead and yelp in pain as you over the spot he just hit. “Ow! I was just stating the truth!”

“Will you stop interrupting me? Geez. Yes, I know that you’re not happy at all. I know that you’re not a huge fan of the majority of our family working in this business. But please do me this one favor or so help me God— try to be nice to him for the next year.”

“He’s staying for a year?” you shriek and in the blink of an eye, Youngjae clamps your mouth shut.

“Can you keep it down?!” he whisper-yells, then retreats his hand and reverts to a conversational tone with a frown. “It’s just a year, okay? Y’know, just... say hi to him whenever you see him. Act civilized.”

You grimace as he stresses his last words like you didn’t know what human decency was. The longer you keep the petrified expression on your face, the more it turns into a staring contest between the two of you. Just as if you were each other’s reflection, you mimic his actions and vice versa. When Youngjae squints, you squint. When you shoot him a glare, he returns it. It all boils down to the final blink that Youngjae feints and you’re the first to look away.

“Okay fine! I’ll try to behave,” you mumble in defeat.

A satisfied smile makes its way on Youngjae’s lips. “It’s always nice negotiating with you.”

Being born into a family where the majority works for the royalty protection program (short: RPP or as you like to stylize it: argh-pee-pee), also known as the secret service for people with crowns on their heads, comes with many perks. In your eyes, this privilege comes with many, many downsides that aren’t worth the advantages. Sure, there is the one or other occasion where you can waltz around in fancy evening attire and attend an actual ball, but overall, it’s a pain in the ass.

Even though it’s prohibited to openly declare that you work for the RPP, the news always finds its way out. Usually, it takes approximately a week for pretty much half of the neighborhood to find out. And it certainly isn’t nice hearing whispers about your dad being that guy working for the program whenever you step out of your house, which is ultimately why you moved in with your cousin Youngjae. (Housing in your small town wasn’t really affordable for a dirt poor college student after all!)

Youngjae has always been your favorite cousin out of the... whatever number of cousins you have. But here’s the thing. He also works for the RPP.

However, somehow he managed to — and up to this day it still remains a mystery to you how on earth he did that — keep his job a secret. Especially with his tendency to dish out the worst kinds of secrets when he’s slightly tipsy. Frankly, you once considered printing out the image of a trophy for that remarkable feat.

With your dad and cousin both active in that business (because organization sounds too shady), it’s not the first time you meet a prince, so you already know how the entire thing works. The concept is quite simple; they get sent to a household but before they settle in and take on a fake identity until their circumstances have improved, they undergo a makeover. Most of the time, it ends up in the glow up you secretly crave but in Prince Chan’s case, you suppose he can’t get any more attractive.

Oh boy. You’re in for a ride.

You’re busy slicing bell peppers for the meal you were cooking when both your cousin and the prince enter the kitchen and Youngjae explicitly demands you to pay them attention. You don’t react immediately, but the moment he threatens to swipe the knife away from you, you perk up and set your desire to prepare your fried rice aside.

“(y/n), uh, hi? I’m Bang Chan and I’ll be your new housemate for a year. I hope we can get along.” Chan recites his introduction without any mistakes and earns a way too brotherly pat on the back from Youngjae, considering that they just met this morning. It’s truly amazing how fast Youngjae can get people to warm up to him. 

Chan is stripped out of his weird clothes and instead, looks like he threw on the next best thing lying around in his room. Nonetheless, despite the seemingly little effort that was put into the outfit, it looks oddly good. The stylists didn’t seem to do much to his hair and just parted his bangs a little, so one could catch a slight glimpse of his forehead. It’s just a small detail, but you find yourself liking his current appearance much more appealing than before, though you’re pretty sure his clothes played a major part in your previous distaste. 

“Remember Jihyo?” Youngjae interrupts your train of thought. “She’s Chan’s relative. And because I’m the genuine friend who loves to help her out, I decided to agree to this after she went down on her knees and begged me to let Chan live with us for a while—“

“I’m not interested in your blown up, fictional background stories, thank you very much.” you backtrack. “Wait. Did you say Jihyo? Seriously? Jihyo is his alibi?” Of course, you remember Jihyo. It’s quite difficult to forget her when Youngjae used to swoon about her at every hour of the day, back when they were a thing. Besides, she still stops by every few months.

“C’mon, you have to admit there is a similar vibe between them!” 

You furrow your brows and inspect Chan a second time. Your gaze wanders back to Youngjae and then returns to Chan anew. It’s obvious that the latter is feeling as if he were up for auction and you can’t really blame him for feeling so uncomfortable. You’ve heard from a few friends that if looks could kill, you’d have the highest killing record. 

There’s no similar vibe in your view, but for the sake of entertaining Youngjae’s thoughts: “He does seem similar to Jihyo.”

“Told ya. But back to more important matters,” Youngjae coughs and wraps his arm around your shoulder to pull you closer, but it somehow seems as if he’s opting to strangle you. “My duties are calling, so I won’t be back until late. You look like you could need some help with cooking, by the way. I’m sure Chan right here is willing to help you!”

“I’m almost done though—“ you choke when he tightens his embrace. By now, his arm is no longer hugging your shoulder, but rather crushing your throat.

“You look like you could need some help,” he repeats, this time with added urgency. “It’d be a great opportunity for you to bond since you’ll also share pretty much all classes at uni. Did you know, he has the same major as you! Besides, it’d be a very useful life experience for him if he helped you with cooking.”

“Of course, how fun!” you hiss, voice going an octave higher from the lack of oxygen. “I already said that I’m painfully delighted about that, so you can let me go now, Youngjae!”

A sneer and a jab in his arm later, Youngjae finally takes his leave. That nasty liar, leaving an hour earlier than his schedule stated. You know that silently cursing at him isn’t going to make your problems dissolve because that’d be a dream come true.

“Listen, let me get things straight.” you sigh, picking up the knife to resume chopping your vegetables. Youngjae may have ordered you to act civilized, but having eye contact with Chan when you’ve been starving for the past hour isn’t your priority. Food doesn’t make itself. “I don’t have any intention of getting close to you and I expect the same from you. Don’t step a foot into my room, don’t talk to me unless absolutely necessary, and don’t think I’ll run around and do your chores or cook your meals like one of your little servants. Just because you’re a prince doesn’t mean you’ll be treated like one under this roof.”

“We live in the 21st century, not the renaissance. Your idea of royal families is very dated.” Chan chuckles dryly.

“Baron Yoon Jeonghan from the seven islands is a stuck-up prick and out of touch with the world. It took him several visits to the slums, multiple voluntary hours at the kindergarten, and stripping him off his bank card to make him see reason,” you deadpan. Fuck Baron Jeonghan. Just thinking about your first and last encounter with that entitled douchebag almost makes you slice your finger instead of the bell pepper. “Duchess Yoo Shiah threw a hissy fit when she found out her clothes weren’t dry cleaned and bought from Zara instead of fucking Dior. The one who takes the cake when it comes to privilege is Princess Kim Min—”

“Everyone knows they are problematic,” Chan interjects. True, he has a point. There’s nobody out there who doesn’t know about Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah but he’s also missing the entire point.

“And guess who gets stuck under the care of the RPP?” you raise a brow at him. He blanches at the realization as if he got struck with lightning. Perhaps you should give him more credit because he seems to own more brain cells than Baron Jeonghan. “Exactly. Everyone problematic.” 

Chan’s jaw is clenched as he racks his brain to come up with a smart comeback. The sight of him stumbling on his words is nothing but pitiful, so you turn back to the cutting board and grab an onion to slice in half. “I’m not interested in your sob story, your Highness. I don’t care why you’re under the protection of the RPP. The only thing I care about is that you stay out of my business.”

“Chan is fine. No need for the title,” he sighs with a strain. “Perhaps I should’ve been more considerate with my first comment. Youngjae already told me about your… negative attitude towards the entire setup. It wasn’t my intention to anger you. Sorry.”

Well, that’s new. Out of the dozens of aristocrats you’ve met (and sadly also shared a house with back when you were 16 years old and still living with your dad), he’s the first to drop his title within five minutes for the sake of the disguise and apologize. 

“We live under the same roof so we should get along with each other. If there’s something you need help with, just ask me, (y/n).”

“Thanks for the offer,” you reply nonchalantly because act civilized unless you want to suffer from a late-night sneak attack from Youngjae if he finds out. “But no thanks. I don’t need your help.”

You find yourself in need of help a few weeks later, right before the dreaded exam season.

“No. Forget it, Bam. I’m not going out clubbing with you tonight. In fact, I won’t do that anytime soon.” you let out an exasperated sigh as you try to break down to your friend that you prioritize your grades over his need of getting wasted.

“C’mon!” he whines so loudly that you have to put your phone farther away from your ear. “You’re not in that much stress yet! You have to make the most out of it before you drown in your exams.”

“Things are different for engineering students like, uh, me for example!” you hiss. “I fell behind and need to catch up. Ask Yugyeom or Changbin.”

“First of all, Yugyeom is always at the bar doing his job. And Changbin never picks up his phone. There’s nobody who’d dance with me!”

“You abandoned me at the bar for some chick the last time,” you deadpan. “I’m very sure you’ll find someone.”

Bambam finally gets the gist and gives up. “Fine then. Your loss. Have fun dying in numbers and variables instead of living in the moment. You’re going to regret it—”

You end the call and set your phone on mute before throwing it on the bed. Sometimes you wonder whether you were on drugs when you decided to major in engineering. The longer you stare at the jumble of numbers and letters — some of them in Greek too — the more you think your brain cells are decaying.

That’s how you find yourself in the kitchen, complaining at Youngjae’s expense and telling him how much you’d rather drown in bleach than subjecting yourself to Algebra II. 

“You know there’s someone you can ask for help and he’s right here,” Youngjae drawls before chugging down the rest of his beer. If he’s going to be a victim to your temper tantrum about a major that you chose yourself, he might as well get a drink so he won’t go insane from your monologue about numbers and graphs and formulas he’s forgotten since he graduated from high school.

You gawk at him. “You? Are you hearing yourself? You almost failed maths. Twice!”

“Because I didn’t mean myself, dipshit,” he says blankly and his eyes flit over your shoulder, “Speaking of the devil. There comes the man of honor.”

You whip your head back to the door to see Chan enter confusedly. “Uh, did I interrupt something?”

“Yes.”

“No, we were just talking about you!”

You send Youngjae a death glare which he casually shrugs off. “(y/n) here is bitching about her Statistics I class and needs a tutor!”

“It’s actually Algebra II if you bothered to pay attention—”

“(y/n) needs a tutor!” Youngjae exclaims and nearly trips on his feet when he gets up from his chair. “Channie, I heard you’re good with numbers. Didn’t you get accepted into all Ivy Leagues in the States for all engineering programs?”

“You didn’t have to word it like that,” Chan laughs it off and nervously rubs the back of his head. He’s not denying it though.

“Obviously he would. He’s loaded and lives in a castle,” you mutter under your breath, but everyone catches it.

“Hey,” Youngjae warns. “That wasn’t necessary.”

“It’s alright,” Chan says casually. “I just wanted to get myself a snack. But if you have some questions, don’t hesitate to knock on my door. The offer still stands, y’know.” He digs through the cabinet until he finds two packs of the strawberry flavored Pocky knockoff that is 1) apparently his favorite thing to eat and 2) half the price of the Pocky version. He gives Youngjae a thumbs up before he returns to his room.

The moment Chan is out of sight, Youngjae whips his head to you, nostrils flaring. All that’s missing is steam coming out of his ears and his face running red and then he looks like the impetuous brother in every kids cartoon ever. “Really? He’s been staying with us for how long now? Four weeks? Five? Yet you’re still acting as if he murdered you in your dreams or something.”

“I don’t like him,” you state coldly. Youngjae looks like he’s about to rip his hair out.

“Look, I get that you don’t like me being active in this field of work, and I get that you have some hatred against the royal families. But you know you signed up for this when you decided to move in with me.” Youngjae pauses to get a breather and pop a new beer bottle open. “Besides, Chan isn’t like Baron Jeonghan or Duchess Shiah. I have eyes, (y/n), and I’ve seen you two avoiding each other as much as possible. And he doesn’t just laze around — he does the fucking chores and cooks dinner too! Chan is good, (y/n).”

The last words make you snap. “Good? Are you fucking serious? Because that’s why the press in his kingdom is depicting him as a tyrant who cares more about building his sick harem instead of helping the poor. And wasn’t he diagnosed for having anger management issues?!”

All the color leaves Youngjae’s face. This is obviously something you shouldn’t know. While he’s scrambling for words, you take the chance to add, “Dunno why you’re protecting him when he’s making headlines as a prince who can’t keep his dick in his pants.”

“Chan isn’t just a prince,” Youngjae says quietly. “He’s the crown prince.”

Your eyes widen at the confession. “What? Isn’t that even worse with that reputation he has?”

“It’s all propaganda,” he sighs and takes a swig, “The ministers are doing everything they can to finish him off. You see, Chan is the only child of the current king of the seven islands, and if he’s wiped out, it’ll be utter chaos. Chan’s smart and I admit, he used to have anger issues, but he’s worked on them. Though I guess he’s resorted to bottling up his feelings when push comes to pull. The point is, all the higher-ups don’t want him as their future king because they know that Chan is very much capable of pulling through with his own ideas and that doesn’t sit well with them. And a supposedly impulsive future king is the last thing anyone wants, hence why his people are eating up the news.”

“Oh.” you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. However, it’s not the first time you’ve heard such stories. 

“Yeah. Oh,” Youngjae mocks, “If that’s the main reason why you don’t want to talk to him, now you know better. He might have power, but he’s not a monster. And for the record, he got into all Ivy Leagues and elite schools all over the world through his intelligence, not his status.”

Although you can see it in his eyes that Youngjae is done with the heated discussion, he’s still waiting for you to say something. You frown. “So… you think he’s a good tutor?”

“He’s your only shot.” Youngjae says nonchalantly, then adds with a warning tone, “But remember: Act. Civilized. Oh, and don’t tell him I told you about his circumstances. It’s supposed to be confidential information.”

You roll your eyes. How the fuck hasn’t Youngjae been busted yet?

Nonetheless, you’re trudging to Chan’s door a few minutes later, your fat binder of incomprehensible math formulas and (Greek) letter heavy in your arm. Chan opens the door with surprise etched on his face after you knocked, but it settles to warmth when you begrudgingly ask him to help you understand Algebra II. 

“Sorry, it’s a little messy here,” he chuckles airily once he lets you in. It’s not messy per se, just a few clothes piled up in a corner of the room and some books and messily written notes lying on his bed. Still, it’s by far cleaner than the pig stall that is Youngjae’s room (and yours when you’re having a very bad day).

Chan clears his desk and drags his other chair to the table before plopping down on it. “So, what’s the problem?” Instead of answering, you just shove a sheet of paper up his face. “Y’know, you can talk to me. If this is about earlier, it’s really alright. I’m not mad or anything,” he says with the same friendly tone you’ve been hearing ever since he moved in, yet he still takes the sheet from you. You watch his brows scrunch together the more he reads on, and you can already see the question forming in his mind.

“(y/n), you do know this is the basis to understand—”

“I was absent when the professor covered it and everyone I asked couldn’t quite explain it to me,” you respond before he can finish speaking out his thoughts. “All my friends were like—” you gesture with your hands, “—you just do this and that and then hope your hunch is right. Before you say it, yes I know that I don’t get the material of one entire unit and the exam is two weeks away.”

“Then let’s not waste any time,” Chan says before grabbing his iPad. You stare at him blankly as he writes something on his tablet. The last thing you expected from him was to accept it and try to hammer as much of missing information as he can into your brain, but then again, you’ve never seen him backtrack whenever Youngjae asks him something. Speaking of Youngjae, perhaps he is right. Chan does seem to know what he’s talking about.

“You have to subtract X first, then replace it with Y,” he explains as he circles said letters in different colors. By now, you’ve leaned closer to him to get a better view on what he’s writing (his handwriting isn’t the worst you’ve ever had to decode; refer to Youngjae who you’ve internally awarded with the worst handwriting of the decade). 

Chan is exceptionally good at explaining. You feel like you’ve figured out a secret of the world that not even Pythagoras found out as you slowly understand what on Earth you are supposed to calculate with the formula. Chan is patient, always asking if you got it or if you needed another clarification, and takes the time to draw colorful graphs to visualize the jumble of numbers. His voice is pleasing to the ear too, soft and gentle to the point where you’ve blurred everything out except Chan. Chan’s voice. Chan’s hand.

You didn’t mean to stare, but with him always adding something new every five seconds as he goes on with his monologue, you can’t help but do so. His fingers aren’t long — that’ll always be courtesy of Hyunjin from Subway and yes, his very pretty hands might be the sole reason you only insist on going to that one specific Subway at the intersection next to KFC — but just one glance at Chan’s hand and you know that he’s strong. 

He’s barely applying pressure to the pen, but you can see the veins slightly protruding. Chan’s sleeves are pushed back and if you move your head a bit, you’re more than certain that veins are bulging out from his forearms too. However, you don’t muster up the courage to do that because Chan will definitely notice and the last thing you want on your platter is to tell him that you were too busy checking out his arms instead of listening to him talk about Algebra II.

Eventually, Chan sets the pen down to stretch his hand. He says something, but you don’t pick up what exactly. Not that it’d matter much anyway since you’re too busy admiring his hand—

“(y/n), you there? I called out your name several times but you didn’t react.” Chan’s breath hitches and surprise flashes in his eyes for a split second when his gaze meets yours. You don’t understand his hesitation, but then horror bubbles in you once you realize that his hand is firmly gripping your chin and keeping your head pointed at his direction. The very same hand you’ve been staring at for God knows how long. 

“I’m good. Just a little tired, but I’m good,” you stutter, though it comes out very breathlessly as if you just finished a marathon.

“Tired?” Chan echoes, concern settling into his features. “You should’ve said so, then I would’ve stopped talking. You need something?”

Now that you think about it, you’ve never got a close look at Chan. Sure, he’s handsome, the countless pictures of Google prove that he’s also too photogenic for his own good (goddamnit, why didn’t your parents make you just as photogenic?) but in person, he’s something else. His lips are plush and look very inviting to kiss, and the lower your eyes wander, the more you see a toned chest hidden underneath that damn shit that hugs him in all the right places.

Fine, his hands aren’t the only attractive thing about him. Then again, he’s a prince.

“I said I’m good.” you snap out of your thoughts and finally gather enough control over your nerves to tear his hand away. “And I caught everything you said.” Of course, you know that’s a blatant lie and he knows so too from the way he’s looking at you. That is until he quirks a brow.

“Okay, then what did I say before I called you?”

Your mouth feels dry. It’s almost as if he knew the reason for your distress. “I caught everything relevant to this,” you mutter, suddenly finding his curtains much more interesting. What an interesting design, maybe you should get yourself new curtains too—

“Then you wouldn’t mind solving these questions, right? Just so I can make sure that you got everything down.”

“Sure,” you reply because that’s the only thing you could say without hurting your ego and straining your vocal cords. Chan doesn’t comment any further and looks for some practice questions before sliding the iPad to you. Already the first question makes your head spin in disdain. Numbers? Variables? Never heard of them.

Chan is watching you like a hawk as you fiddle with the pen, unable to write down anything that makes remote sense. Feeling his eyes on you makes you feel helpless and you shift around in your seat. “What are you staring at?” you glare at him once you give up for good, and you just hope that your look is as intimidating as you pictured in your head.

“You’re definitely exhausted. You’re shaking,” Chan points out. Your eyes widen as you stare down and realize that your thighs are shaking, and it’s then and there when you realize that you’re feeling hot. Seems like Chan doesn’t realize that because the worry written on his face is genuine. “You say the exam’s in two weeks right? We can stop for today and work on this tomorrow. That is if you still want my help.”

You nod and add in a tiny voice, “Yes, please.”

You’re too busy ignoring the heat building between your thighs to notice the borderline feral sound that leaves Chan.

“And here I thought you had quality bonding time.” Youngjae gives a disappointed look. “You’re acting even colder towards him than before your exam meltdown. Your prick level can only stoop down so low.”

You ended up getting tutor lessons from Chan every day before the dreaded day of judgment: the exam in Algebra II. You spent more hours in his room than on your own if you were completely honest, and the results were fruitful. While you did manage to pass the exam with a fairly high score, the price you had to pay was hell.

It’s almost as if Chan caught up on your hand fixation. Sometimes he twirled the pen in his fingers, sometimes it was the simple bracelet dangling on his wrist. Just when you thought he had you figured out, he asks you if you’re alright, visibly oblivious to his effect on you. Such duality in a person should be illegal, you conclude. If you die from whiplash, you know who the perpetrator is.

“You were the one who pretty much pressured me into asking him for help,” you drawl.

“I had good intentions only! You can’t keep up the I-hate-royal-families-blah-blah mentality the entire time!” Youngjae wails before stuffing a handful of chips in his mouth.

“Watch me.” You internally cringe at the loud crunching sounds he’s making and add vigorously, “And stop chewing so loudly.”

“You’ll get around or so help me God—” he groans when his phone buzzes. He doesn’t spare a glance at the caller ID because there’s only one person who has set his ringtone to the baby shark song specifically for when he’s calling. “I gotta go, Jinyoung’s being a bitch again. Don’t murder somebody. Thanks.” You only watch him shuffle for his bag and grab a handful of chips before he’s out the door. Groaning, you clean up the mess he’s made on the table. 

Just as you’re done wiping the crumbs off the surface, Chan pads into the room. 

“Hey, can we talk?”

“I established right at the beginning that you should only talk to me when absolutely necessary.” you scowl, trying to walk past him.

“Well, this is important,” he urges and blocks the doorway, effectively stopping you from fleeing. “And I do deserve one conversation with you after I helped you out.”

“You offered on your own. That’s not the same as asking for a favor.” You successfully push your way past him, but in the next moment, he spins you around and pins you against the wall. 

“We’re going to talk, whether you like it or not.” The sudden coldness of his tone has shivers running down your spine. Chan holds your wrist in an iron grip and if he clutched on any tighter, you wouldn’t put it past him to break your bones. Out of options, you comply and give him a curt nod before he lets go and takes a step back. 

“I don’t understand you, (y/n). I genuinely thought you would put your prejudices aside but instead, all I get are mixed signals from you.”

It’s your turn to gawk. “Me? Mixed signals? What are you talking about?” 

“I’m talking about how you keep looking at me as if you want me to fuck your brains out.” If the color hasn’t drained from your face yet, it has now. Chan smiles wickedly at your horrified reaction but doesn’t stop there. “I’m talking about how you talk like you don’t want anything to do with me but act as if you’re begging for my attention.” He takes a step closer to you, and you wish you could morph with the wall. “I’m talking about how you keep staring at my hands and think I don’t notice it.” You wince when he rests his hands against the wall on each side of your face, leaning closer so that you can feel his breath on your lips. “So, you have a thing for my hands?” Bullseye.

“You’re so full of yourself. No wonder your ministers want to get rid of you,” you snap because you’d rather suffer from food poisoning than admitting that you want Chan’s fingers in you.

Something shifts within Chan. He gapes at you, clearly not expecting you to even know about the ministers. His demeanor darkens in a blink of an eye, and you feel like your legs are about to give up on you when you meet his eyes, black and feral.

“You’re playing with fire. Don’t anger me,” he warns, voice low and rough.

“So it’s true that you resorted to bottling up your feelings, your Highness?” you cock your head to the side. Chan clenches his jaw at the mention of his title, struggling to keep his anger in check. You laugh through your nose, then grab one of his hands and force it away from the wall. If he already knows that you’re thirsting after him, might as well go for it. “It’s funny how your ministers aren’t able to string you around like a puppet yet here you are, unable to do anything against a commoner. You know you have nice hands and you know my weakness and yet, you’re not using them on me.” He gulps when you fumble with his fingers. 

And then he understands.

“Unless I misread the situation,” he says darkly, though you distinguish the slight tremor his voice carries. “Do you really want this? I’m not going to go easy on you.” Chan is dead serious, judging by the way he’s looking at you expectantly. 

“The safe word is petunia.” You don’t take your eyes off him and add in a louder tone, “Now try me, do your worst.”

“You’re going to regret wanting me at my worst,” Chan growls and before you know it, he crashes his lips against yours. The kiss is anything but sweet, more of a clash of teeth and tongues and saliva dribbling down your chins, yet it leaves you boiling hot and wobbly on your feet. He presses you up against the wall and forces his leg between yours, the sudden contact making you hunch forward. You moan against his mouth when he tugs harshly on your hair, the sting making your nerves go haywire. In the meantime, your hands roam his upper body, blunt nails digging into his shoulders as you try to buck your hips against his leg. While he doesn’t budge, you manage to elicit a groan out of him.

When you pull away, you’re both gasping for air. Chan’s hair is disheveled from the way you’ve been pulling on them, lips pink and glossy. One look in his eyes is enough to make your heart stop beating. They’re dark and animalistic and set ablaze with unfiltered lust. You’re such in a daze from a simple kiss that you nearly stumble when Chan drags you to his room.

He manhandles you on his bed with ease before his lips latch on yours once more. You nearly sob when he rids you off your pants, putting pressure in all the right places to have you losing your mind. As you’re about to gain back some dominance in the kiss, he breaks it off. His fingers that were once ghosting over your underwear are now tracing patterns all over the material, making you spasm. “You’re such a brat, all bark but no bite. All it takes is one kiss and you’ve lost all your fight. Can you get any more pathetic?” he mocks as he focuses his fingertips directly on the wet patch of your underwear. Your eyes roll back as he rubs on the same spot, the broken moans leaving you eerily similar to cries. “Don’t tell me you’re about to come like this. How sensitive are you?”

“Am n-not—” you cut yourself off with a whimper when he lets the waistband snap against your skin.

“Yeah, you sure about that?” he grins and that’s when you break, feeling your high approaching at lightning speed. 

“Don’t wanna come like this—” 

“But I thought you’re not sensitive?” the satisfied grin just widens with every syllable that leaves his lips. “If you don’t want to come like this, all over your underwear, beg.” 

Chan applies even more force to your sensitive spots, and you struggle to have a clear thought. The smirk he delivers is lethal, and you couldn’t be any more convinced that he’s the devil’s incarnate.

“I’ll do anything, please. Don’t let me come like this, that’s all I’m a-aah-asking for,” you weep, your blood nearly boiling at its climax, “I’ll even take a punishment!”

“Say my name,” he orders, fingers still drawing circles.

“Your—”

“My name, not my title.”

Your breath hitches as you finally realize what he’s aiming for. He wants you to remember that it’s him who’s reducing you into this illiterate mess. Him, the one you’ve been despising since before you even met. If you still had any ounce of dignity left, you’d try to fix the power imbalance until you’re left with no choice but to obey, but now you’re so close and the last thing you want to do is come with your pants on.

“Please, Chan,” your voice breaks towards the end and in an instant, he pulls away. As you’re letting you’re basking in the break from his brutal tempo, not too affected by how your upcoming orgasm is fading away, Chan observes you.

And then out of nowhere, he flips you on your stomach and delivers a hard smack to your ass that has you screaming into the pillows.

“You said you’d take any punishment too, right?” You twitch as he rubs the small of your back. You can already imagine the handprints on your ass he continued to slap you with such force that has you moving up the bed. The pain that’s going to haunt you for days. Before you know it, you try to arch your back to lift your ass, but then the bed shifts. “But if you really think I’m going to spank you as a punishment, then you’re really fucking dumb. As if I’ll use my hands on you when we both know you love my hands.”

With that, he drops himself on his chair, spreading his legs that you can see the prominent tent forming in his pants. He orders you over with a flick of his finger, and just as you get up from the bed, a new wave of horror flushes over you.

“Crawl.”

The look you send him is priceless. There’s no fucking way you can do it. It’s just a few meters, nothing you can’t handle, but he’s there sitting on his Ikea swivel chair as if it’s his throne made of gold, watching your every movement like a predator. And then there’s you, only in a shirt and underwear, being forced to go on all fours as if you were his fucking dog—

The difference in power display couldn’t get any more visible. He really is the fucking worst.

“You’d really do anything, huh…” he muses as you drop on your hands and knees and crawl to him, never looking up. It’s only when he beckons you to stand up that you look at him with nothing but rage and shame in your eyes. Chan has always been slightly terrified with your death stare but right now, he can’t take it seriously and it shows. It shows in the way he smiles lopsidedly, in the way his brows quirk in amusement. “Now hump my leg.”

Humiliation runs through your body all over. Your fists are clenched as he waits for you to act, even pats his thigh in case you didn’t get the memo. But oh you do, and his thigh does look inviting.

“Hump my leg like the brainless bitch you are. If you want my hands or my cock, you earn it first. Especially since you treated me like shit ever since I moved in.” The last sentence burns you badly because he has a point. But then there’s the prospect of his hands and dick that’s bulging out of his pants. 

Pushing all thoughts away, you settle on his leg. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you tell yourself it’s all good and then you move. The first thrust knocks all air out of your lungs and you grab onto his shoulders for support. You didn’t even move that much, but Chan’s looking at you as if he’s about to fucking devour you and knowing that he is very much capable of moving you around, you’re starting to become overwhelmed.

Eventually, you lose yourself in the feeling of his rough jeans against your drenched underwear, humping on his thigh as your orgasm builds up. It’s silent, save for your pants, and the countless whimpers flying past your lips as your movements gradually become sloppier. You’re almost there and you know it. But so does Chan, and the moment he’s got it figured out, he lunges from your hips and forces you to pick up the pace. 

“Oh no, you’re going to come,” he growls, ignoring your pleas and sobs. Adrenaline courses in your blood and you know it isn’t long until you fall apart. You try to make him stop, even put your hands on his, but you don’t have the energy to actively push him away.

“Chan, please— I’m gonna—”

“You’re gonna come? Then fucking come on my thigh, (y/n),” he snaps, and then adds, “You hear that? You’re about to come from humping my thigh.”

Maybe it’s the realization that he’s right, maybe it’s the way he’s worded it. Either way, it’s the last straw to make you spasm as you come, soaking your underwear and even managing to make a mess out of his pants. Chan makes sure you ride through your orgasm, only stopping to move your hips once you’re all spent and resting your head on his shoulder. Your eyes are glassy, vision foggy, but the only thing you can envision clearly is Chan.

Chan jolts when your hand grazes over his bulge. You’re about to undo his pants, but he’s quick to stop you and restrict your hands behind your back.

“You think you deserve my cock? Dream on. As if I would fuck any commoner, especially those who don’t respect me,” he spits, and you flinch at his choice of words, clearly recalling that you used the exact same terms and he’s now using it against you. “You said you’d take any punishment. Well, guess what? This was just punishment number one.”

[sylvie-writes]

𝐀𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐦 ✯ 𝐒. 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

word count: 4,000

pairing: steve rogers x female reader

summary: If one had to live the same day over and over again, it would be most sensible of them to choose the best one. Well unfortunately for you, you didn’t get a choice.

warnings: angst

a/n: this was the one-shot i had posted a preview of and i apologize for taking so long to post it. i couldn’t decide how to end it so then i took a poll and it was a fluffy ending, which helped me a bit! thanks! btw sorry if the formatting looks weird. on my computer it looks weird, but on my phone it looks normal so idk. 

please excuse any mistakes!

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

For the first time in years, you awoke to notice the light of the sun and how it ever so brightly twinkled. The sun had never actually disappeared, but today you had actually taken the time to notice it in all of its glory. Just the mere sight brought a bittersweet smile to your face, along with the feeling of delight, something you had missed so dearly during the dark period of time that had finally ended yesterday. Half of the world had disappeared for what seemed forever and with that no longer looming over your head, you could actually live and enjoy life for what it is. It may sound cliche, but the sun did seem brighter to you now, and the world a happier place after being reset. Last night, you had watched the news and for the first time in forever, it was enjoyable. On the screen, images of people reuniting along with many others sending words of thanks to your crew mates turned family, the Avengers. 

Today, you were mostly relishing in the peace, but just a small bit of worry settled in your stomach as Steve was returning the stones back to their normal timelines. No matter how many times Sam offered to go with him, the stubborn man refused, still ready to take the risk on his own. Times like these made you miss Nat even more as she was probably the only person, aside from you, to be able to talk Steve out of anything. Instead of continuing to dwell on the matter that was out of your hands, you turned away from the sunny window and to your left. The sound of your shuffling in the sheets must’ve awoken the man beside you as his grip tightened its hold on your waist. He pulled you closer into his chest and then wrapped two arms around you, forming a warm and inviting hug. After some sleepy groaning, lips met the top of your head which you could only tell by feeling since your face was currently being squished into the man. 

“Good Morning, gorgeous. What time is it?” Steve picked his chin up from the top of your head, peering over to your nightstand where the clock sat. As he did so, he noticed you were squeezing your eyes shut and murmuring some silent “no’s” and “it’s not time yet.” 

He chuckled at your defiance and then unwrapped his arms so he could lean back and instead run his fingers through your hair. “I hate to break it to you, but we have to meet the rest of the team in an hour.” 

Turning onto your stomach, you threw your face into Steve’s pillow while also ignoring his annoying bright smile as if he was entertained. “Ugh, can’t they just wait. It’s not like the stones have suddenly grown feet and are gonna run away.”

“Hon, you’ve left me no choice.” 

It got freakishly quiet and next thing you knew, Steve had thrown back the sheets and thrown you over his shoulder.

“Steve! I was just about to get up!!” You quickly sat up to face the blonde and not his backside which caused him to somehow gently rotate you in a way that you were now being held bridal style. Steve simply shrugged and kissed your forehead before heading to the bathroom to start the shower, you still in his arms.

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

It was only supposed to be seconds. 

And as of now, it has been at least a minute.

All hell's breaking loose at the moment. Bucky, feet glued to the ground, looks around as if Steve is gonna magically appear and Sam is worriedly questioning Bruce who is anxiously messing with the buttons of his controls. On the other hand, you are still staring at the platform, the traffic in your mind finally halting which ultimately caused you to drop to the floor in shock. As you were out cold on the ground, Sam looked over for a split second and luckily caught you in his sight. 

About fifteen minutes later, you woke up in the infirmary. You looked to your right where Bruce was standing with a water while Bucky and Sam waved at you from the nearby seats. Your first reaction was anger as you saw the three here and not working on getting Steve back who was currently nowhere in sight. Rejecting the bottle, you sat up straight. With fire in your eyes, you stared at Bruce, “Where is he?”

The gentle giant just shook his head, urging you to drink more water. Immediately, you ripped the i.v tube from your arm, ignoring the slight burn and then the draft from the paper gown that clothed your body. Just as you made it to the door, both Sam and Bucky held out their hands, stopping you from exiting. 

“Woah woah, missy. Where do you think you are going?”

Bucky slowly reached out to place a hand on your waist in a way to make sure that you wouldn’t run off while Sam distracted you further. 

“To find Steve.”

Sam sucked in a harsh breath and folded his arms over his chest. “(y/n). We all care about both you and Steve very much-”

“If you did care, then you’d be out there looking for him!” Your emotions had finally bubbled over and now resentful tears were starting to emerge. 

“Think about what you just said because it doesn’t make sense! We are just as worried as you are and we’ve done everything, and I mean everything, we can. He’s gone.” Sam’s eyes softened and he put a hand on your shoulder, “Please get some rest. There’s nothing else to be done.” The stubbornness started to subside and in turn, reality seeped into your mind. You then looked to Bucky, seeing that he was looking at you the same way as Sam.

“Sam and I will be on the lookout. I promise (y/n). Steve wouldn’t want you up right now and you know that.” 

With a childlike huff you turned back towards the bed as the two men ushered you to it. 

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

Hours must have passed because next thing you knew it was morning again and you were back in your own bed. It was somewhat shocking as you felt as good as new, possibly even better than you’ve felt before. As you finally awoke, you felt something heavy on your waist and looking down, you noticed an arm slung around your torso. You blinked a few times to make sure it was real and your mind then ran to the most sensible conclusion.

Whispering, you stared at the hand as if it was foreign, “Bucky?”

Suddenly a voice replied in all of its deepend glory, “Sorry, doll, but it’s Steve.” 

The hand then moved and you heard sheets shuffling as Steve turned onto his back to stretch his arms with an overdramatic yawn.

You shot up faster than an eager student’s hand. With a soft gasp you brought a hand to your lips. It couldn’t be…

“W-When did-d you get back?” It was quiet, but Steve’s enhanced hearing picked it up just as he had done so a few seconds before.

“What do you mean?” He looked at you with pure confusion. 

“You returned the time stones. Yesterday… And you never came back.”

Dark blonde eyebrows creased together and a hand made its way to your forehead. “(y/n), you are worrying me. We aren’t returning the stones until today. Are you okay? What did you eat last night?”

Before Steve could mother goose anymore, you clumsily shuffled out of the bed, but not removing eye contact from the man. “I’ll-I’ll be right back.” 

You slipped on shoes, apparently mismatched ones, but you were too anxious to care. In a millisecond, the bedroom door was shut. You, running out like you were fearing for your life and Steve on the other side, concerned and confused.

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

“GUYS, THEY ARE REAL! WE ARE GONNA NEED TO GO INTO LOCKDOWN!”

Running into the kitchen like a madwoman, you screamed the words you believed to be true. The innocent bystanders, Scott and Wanda, were currently gathering the rest of their things, while Bruce stood in the kitchen making breakfast. Everyone had been ready to go off onto their own paths after the events of yesterday (including Tony’s funeral), but currently you thought you held some mind-blowing information that would stop time, so to say.

“(y/n) what’s happening?” Wanda threw down her box and rushed to your side as you were already talking a mile a minute. None of them could understand a single word for it sounded like absolute gibberish. 

“There is a shapeshifter in my room. You know, those things Carol talked about! I thought she was bullshitting us, but the Skrulls or whatever are real. What are we gonna do? I know there are some th-” 

“Darling, what are you going on about? There’s nothing in our room, I just came from there. You’ve been acting weird all morning.” Entering the common area, Steve leaned up against the doorway before beginning to approach your shaking form.

Absolute horror in your eyes, you looked at Steve in terror as he now tenderly held your wrists in his hands.

“It’s you.”

He titled his head like a confused puppy while the rest of the onlookers stood by. You weren’t sure what to say for if you said “it’s him,” that would be equivalent to standing in a bank robbery and calling the cops right in front of the shooter. Rather you went with what you thought was smart and uttered Wanda’s name. 

It took her a second, but she looked as if she had caught on once having invaded your thoughts. Although, your hope was lost when she ended up mirroring Steve’s perplexed look. 

Taking matters into your own hands (quite literally,) you roughly shook your hands free from Steve’s loving hold and walked over to the nearby side table, discreetly eying the lamp. From first glance, it looked to the team members as if you were simply going to turn on the light, but all of a sudden, the lamp was in your hands and ready to launch at Steve. A mixture of “stops” and gasps sounded when it flew in the air. The team was quick to act, but it all happened in slow-motion for you. 

The lamp froze in the air with a red aura surrounding it thanks to Wanda while Steve tossed himself at you to avoid the incoming object. Of course, by doing so he rolled to make sure not to crush you while making impact with the ground. Once everything stopped, the lamp was returned to its place and your teammates started to slowly approach, you went to stand up, but Steve’s grasp stopped you. In fact, he flipped you over so your back was now on the carpet, an aggravated blonde now hanging over your body. His hands were pinning down your once flailing arms and his eyes burned into your own.

“(y/n). Tell me what is going on. Now.” Rarely did Steve ever use this tone with you. Actually, he’s never used it with you. It also occurred to you that you probably looked a bit insane to your friends and boyfriend, so you figured it was time to come clean. If they thought you were deranged, then oh well. What else was there to do?

“If you aren’t a shapeshifter then what’s happening!?!” 

You reached out to grab the fistfuls of his shirt before beginning to cry quietly. Steve could sense you were really upset over whatever this is because you were never one to act in such an irrational way. At this point, Bruce, Wanda and Scott stood by, concerned for you and the current situation. Steve leisurely leaned down, pressing a comforting kiss to your temple before hovering by your ear. 

“What is wrong, my love? Tell me so I can help you.”

Stopping the tears, you peered up at the man who you trusted your life with. So far, you had managed to convince yourself that this was really your Steve, but that only left one conclusion, yet you didn’t want to believe it.  Not yet anyway.

“Steve, you disappeared...yesterday. I can remember it all, I swear.” Your voice died down as you thought of a way to convince them. “Bruce, tell them, you were there too! Please, I’ve already lived this day.”

Chiming in from the back was Bruce, “What day do you think it is then?”

You replied the date at which Wanda told you that it wasn’t, but rather that it was the day before. 

Steve had loosened his hold on you at this point and you managed to scoot up and lean up back against the side table. 

“So then what does that mean? I’m living the same day… over again?”

Everyone started to nod in acceptance like they were welcoming the idea and you just suddenly burst out, hysterically laughing at the ridiculousness.“Well that’s just great, guys!  I’ve lost my damn mind. It’s okay you all don’t have to play along, just ship me away already, will y’a?” 

“I’ve gone off the rails, Steven. How do you even put up with this!?” You motioned to yourself in disgust and Steve laughed, shaking his head. “Sweetheart, I’ve seen a lot, especially these last five years, so this doesn’t even sound remotely crazy.”

Scott moved closer to reassure you. “No, (y/n), you haven’t! This is entirely possible. believe it or not. In simplest terms, it’s like that movie,” The man paused to think before shining a boastful smile at you, “Groundhog’s Day. You know, the one with Bill Murray.”

Bruce piped up from his distant spot in the kitchen, “Not another movie, Scott! We’ve already discussed this, just because it was in a movie, doesn’t make it true.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it. That IS how we found time travel after all. Thank god my parents let me watch Back to the Future or else-” 

The doctor looked at Scott with a face that practically screamed “fair enough and please just shut up,” which the rambling man took note of as he quickly piped down. (You took note of this situation and for future reference remembered not to ask them this question for the rest of the time you’d live this day.)

From there, you and the team spent the rest of the time trying to figure whatever it is before Steve had to leave with the stones. You only hoped that night everything would be normal or that this was really just a bad and very vivid dream. 

An extremely bad one.

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

Unfortunately, you awoke the next morning in the same position that you’d love to be in any other day, which was Steve’s arm cocooning you. 

Starting from today on and for the next ten days or so, you’d approach the day as such. 

In the morning, you’d try your hardest to convince Steve to not leave. 

He’d ask you why and you’d come up with some bullshit excuse, different from the day before, along with some puppy eyes that the man would just laugh at. As you pouted, he’d kiss your sulking lips and murmur “you’re so silly, doll.” 

No matter how many times you tried to convince him, he ironically always said that exact phrase in return.

Needless to say it was a bit annoying and you were tired of living the same day over and over again. Steve would never not do something for the world unless it meant hurting you. If only he knew that this simple act was like driving a knife straight through your heart. 

You tried to keep count of the amount of days on a piece of paper, but soon discovered that would be useless by day two since it just disappeared into thin air. 

Of all the days to relive, it just had to be the one where Steve vanished. Yet, no matter how many times you live that day, a pit of angst always settled in your stomach even though you knew what was to come later on that day. It was absolute torture seeing the love of your life perish  before you and you couldn’t do anything to change it. Sometimes at night, while you laid alone, you’d wonder why of all the days that it had to be this one. What had you done to piss off the universe so bad?

Finally, by what you assumed was day eight, you just accepted your fate and decided to just have some fun with it. If you were gonna have to suffer, you might as well make something out of the day. Granted you were gonna solve cancer or help homelessness because your efforts would be reset the “next” day. 

As the team prepared for Steve’s departure, you’d be out eating tons and tons of your favorite meals knowing that it wouldn’t affect you tomorrow. One day you even spontaneously caught a plane to some country you’d never even visited and just blew an unfathomable amount of money. On other days, you had also invested time and money into getting your hair done into impossible and whacky styles while simultaneously regretting not having painted your nails the day before. It was stupid to worry about or even bring up, but they were constantly chipped and it was aggravating to look at as you foolishly sped through the city in an expensive car that wouldn’t be yours tomorrow. 

What you were doing was absolutely careless, reckless and just downright out of character for anyone, especially you. Yet when you knew it all wouldn’t matter tomorrow, you carried on with your disregard for the world. Numb from the pain you were just trying to feel something. 

When it finally came time for Steve to leave, you’d bid him goodbye and when he vanished, you would see Sam, Bucky, and Bruce’s shocked expressions for what felt like the thousandth time. Honestly, you knew they wouldn’t remember and instead you’d just walk away, trying your best to not let your emotions jump out once more. You figured that after the tenth day, you were just desensitized and that you should be unaffected by now, when in reality you were still hurting. At this point, even though you got to spend time with Steve, your hours hurting outweighed your hours enjoying life. 

There was no use in any longer faking to yourself. The logic of “what you think is what you become,” wasn’t helping so you instead swallowed the bitter pill of reality and moved on. For real this time. 

You had finally come to accept that Steve was gonna be gone and no one knew when he’d come back, but you knew one thing.

The pain of constantly seeing him disappear, knowing there was nothing you could say or do to stop him because boy did you try, was much more profound than that of the pain you felt when he was just gone. There was more hope for him to return that way than not moving on at all. 

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

Somehow, by doing so and accepting the truth, the universe reset that night. 

You woke up and Steve wasn’t there.

For having lived the same day on repeat for at least 3 weeks time, you knew with absolute certainty that he was gonna be there. 

These people you’d been living were practically programmed with a script so there was surely no way anything could change unless…

“Hey (y/n) glad to see you are awake. We have some good news.” 

At that moment Sam popped his head in from the hallway and you couldn’t keep a smile at bay. 

It was finally a new day.

The man gave you a confused look, but was happy nonetheless to see you. 

“Wow, you seem pretty chipper for someone who has been through a lot in the past few hours. You good?” Sam came to your bedside and gave you a blueberry muffin wrapped in a thin napkin. It was hard to come by muffins in the compound, let alone breakfast at all, and you felt a ping of joy when you noticed that Sam remembered your favorite snack. He’d always have your back whether it was a muffin or a bullet. 

“It’s nothing. I am just happy that today is a new day and I can start with a clean slate.” Taking a bite into the muffin, you relished in the fresh and spongy cake while your conscience scolded you for not indulging in these during your everlasting day from hell. 

“I don’t know what’s gotten to you, but I am loving the cringe-worthy optimism. Speaking of which, I have something to add to that.” You ignored the subtle dig at your newfound look on life and rather keened in on the last half of his words. 

“Did you-” Tears started to brim your eyes. Happy ones. Soon your muffin was long forgotten as you threw off the covers and stood from the bed. Sam was quick to stand as well, steadying you when your sheets got tangled at your feet and you spun a bit. 

☆════ ⋆★⋆ ════☆

There he was. 

Your Steve was standing before you with a look of adoration on his face while his arms were wide open, beckoning you to him. 

“How?” A gasp of question fell from your lips and at this point you were sure your body and mind were gonna explode from this extra case of surprise, as if you hadn’t been through enough of that. It was astronomical that you could even feel that emotion at this point. 

“Scott discovered that we somehow ripped time?” You furrowed your brows and Steve continued on. “ When you all sent me back to return, I guess it was a bit miscalculated.” 

So it wasn’t all a dream? Could it really be that you had lived the same day on repeat? It was like someone had accidentally hit the repeat button for a song one too many times, but instead of a song, it was your life?

“Now I am not good with all the technical things, but apparently it stopped time in a way. Dr. Banner even said that it could have caused for some to experience some type of repetitive time abnormality!” Steve chuckled, not understanding a single word that he was saying to you. It was like a foreign language to him. He blamed it on being from a time where technology barely existed, but you and the rest of the team were quick to reassure him that it was confusing for all. 

“Oh, if only you all knew.” Wrapping your arms around Steve’s slim waist, you nestled your face into his chest, inhaling his cologne and embracing his warmth. Steve placed his lips on the crown on your head and you two stayed that way for an eternity,

One day maybe you’d tell them the story, but for now you were gonna relish in the time you had with Steve. If you had learned anything from your experience, it was that time was a tricky thing and that you shouldn’t hold a grudge as life did on you for that day. You will never make any progress if you do. Live in the moment and roll with the punches life throws in your direction. 

taglist: @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight @patzammit @iwik3it

[hisunshiine]

—𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘦𝘥  |pjm|

⟢ pairing: Tattoo Artist!Jimin x First Time Tatoo!reader

⟢ genre: strangers2lovers | smut, fluff | oneshot | tattoo shop au

⟢ rating: 18+, nsfw

⟢ summary: You decided to get a tattoo when the $13 dollar deal is happening and find out it’s because your tattoo artist is celebrating his birthday, which falls on the 13th. His needle penetrates you, then he penetrates you. Happy Birthday indeed. 

⟢ warnings: minimal blood and pain (she’s getting a tattoo)

⟢ kinks: pain kink (from the tattoo) teasing, semi-public sex, thigh kissing, oral f.receiving, fingering, cum eating, unprotected sex, breast play, is there a term for fucking the cum into someone?

⟢ word count: 2.2k

⟢ author’s note: the way they looked at the MOTS ON:E concert really fucked me. Happy Birthday to our cutie sexy lovely Jimin.

“I’m excited and scared at the same time.” You said, bouncing nervously on your toes. Your best friend eyed the display in front of her.

“I think this one is really pretty… Maybe I should get a piercing. I really like this one, YN.” She points out a shiny gemstone embedded in surgical grade silver, and you nod.

“I am so torn. I want to get a tattoo really badly, and today is the 13th, so they’re doing 13 dollar tattoos. But I also want to pierce my cartilage.”

“You ladies need some help?” 

You looked up at the figure that had approached you from the other side of the counter. His smirk as he eyed you up and down left you feeling warm.

“Yes, ” your best friend began without looking up, “she’s looking to get a 13 dollar tattoo, and I’m debating on this piercing.”

Once she finally was done ogling the jewelry, she made eye contact with the man and almost gasped. He was taller than the both of you, roughly 5 foot 8, and lean. His grey/platinum blond hair was loose around his face, showcasing the cut of his jaw and the intensity of his gaze. Dressed in black and silver, you couldn’t deny how hot he was. He quirked an eyebrow up, turning back to you.

“Do you know what tattoo you want?”

“I do,” you answered shyly. “I want a simple one, just the outline of a heart, but, um.. Do you have any… female tattoo artists?”

He smirked again, and you felt embarrassed for asking.

“Bangtan Tattoo Shop doesn’t have any female artists or piercers currently… but I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

Your best friend inhaled again watching the exchange between you and the worker, nearly choking on the sexual aura he was exuding.

“Oh, are you the tattoo artist?”

“The one and only Park Jimin, at your service. We have a couple artists, but they’re all already working on someone and I just finished, so once you fill out the online consents, I’ll take you back.” He passes you a tablet that’s open to a consent form.

“Um, what about piercings?” Your best friend had finally found her voice again.

“I’ll send Hobi over, he’s the best we’ve got.” 

Jimin hands another tablet to your best friends and disappears behind the curtain behind him.

“Please tell me that you saw what I saw.”

“That fine ass man? I definitely did.”

“I can’t believe you’re gonna let him touch you there...” Your best friend hit submit on her tablet and set it back down on the glass display case. 

“It’s not like it’s that risque… it’s small anyways so it’ll be done in no time.”

The sound of the curtain opening ends your conversation.

“Ready, little lady?”

You nod and he motions you around the counter and through the black curtain. As you walk past him, you see a man with several piercings and multiple tattoos on his arms walking towards you.

“She’s right out there, boss. Had her fill out the waiver and everything.”

“Thanks Chim. Happy Birthday again!”

The man, despite all of his jewelry and tattoos, had a cheerful disposition, and radiated a fun energy. He looked tough and menacing, but when he smiled, all of that melted away. You felt confident he would do a good job on your friend.

“Andddd.. Right through here.” Jimin pointed you towards a doorway and you headed inside, eyeing the bed and tattoo equipment laid out. As he followed you inside and shut the door, you turned to ask him where you should sit.

“Alright, before I have you climb up on the table, where do you want this small tattoo?”

“I want it right here.” You pointed at a spot below your hip, right at the apex of where your bikini line meets your leg. You thought it was the perfect place for a dainty tattoo that would only be seen by the men who would be lucky enough to get your panties off of you.

“Ah, I see why you asked for a female artist.. Well, I will have you know that I have tattooed many a half naked woman. No worries. I’ll treat you right.” He winked, and it went straight to your core.

“Let me see the design you want, so I can get that drafted up and ready to draw onto you.”

You showed him a beautiful image of detailed line work that created a flower. 

“This will look so good on you, send this to the email posted above the door.” Jimin pointed at a plaque on the wall above the closed door that listed the wifi information and an email to the shop.

“I’m just gonna have you strip from the waist down, and wrap this towel around you as best as you can to cover all the bits you're worried about, just make sure to leave the area you want done exposed. I’ll print out the design and I’m gonna grab the correct size gloves, they put the wrong ones in here again.”

Jimin left the room with a box of gloves in hand, and you quickly stripped down, winding the towel around your waist and climbing onto the table. Laying back, you tug at the towel, creating enough slack to cover your mound while still keeping the right side exposed for the tattoo. Getting comfortable, you logged into the wifi network and sent the image to the email address as requested. Waiting for Jimin to return felt like it took forever, but you knew that it was just your nerves talking. This would be your first tattoo.

“Ready, baby girl?” Jimin popped back into the room and you jumped, nerves getting the best of you. He adjusted the table so that you were slightly leaned back and your legs dangled at the knee.

“Let me wash my hands and glove up, then we can get started.”

You took the opportunity to eye Jimin as his back was turned to you. The way the black leather pants hugged his ass, showcasing his lean legs that were toned. 

“It’s, uh, it’s your birthday today?” You asked, voice cracking just slightly.

“Yup! The big 2-5. That’s actually why we do the 13 dollar tattoos in October. I offer this rate to celebrate so I can spend the day doing something that I love.”

“Wow, that’s amazing. Happy Birthday!”

“Thank you. Alright, if you’re ready, I’m gonna use this wipe to remove any hair and then place this and you let me know if it’s where you want it or we can adjust.”

You could feel his gentle touch as he wiped the hair removal cloth along your skin before placing the trace of the flower there. Handing you a mirror, you eyeball the location and nod, letting him know that you approve of it.

You take deep breaths as you wait for him to start, trying to ease your nerves. Once the gun makes contact with your skin, you let out an indecent moan. You were expecting it to hurt, and while there definitely is some pain, there is also no mistaking the arousal that leaks from your core. The buzz of the gun is loud, but you’re sure that Jimin noticed the way you formed your mouth into an ‘O’ and closed your eyes. If you hadn’t been instructed to stay still, you might have arched into it, enjoying the way his other hand was braced along your hip, gripping you as he leaned over your lower half to follow the outline. 

Sitting on a rolling chair and positioned between your knees, Jimin was very aware of the way you were reacting to the tattoo. It excited him, finding someone who looked as good as you did who reacted the same way to being tattooed as he had his first time. He tried to ignore the slight hard-on he got from hearing you moan from him decorating your virgin skin.

About 15 minutes later, Jimin had finished the delicate lines of the flower, and wiped away the residual ink. You sat back with your eyes closed, breathing heavily as you calmed down from the rush of endorphins. Jimin looked up at you, admiring the way your lashes highlight your cheekbones.

“Well done, baby girl.”

His breath tickles your inner thigh as he inspects his work, and you look down at him, perfectly positioned to fulfill your wildest dreams.

“It actually didn’t hurt like I thought it would.”

“Seemed like you enjoyed yourself through it.”

“Oh, you noticed that did you?” you ask sheepishly, failing to close your thighs to soothe the ache forming. 

“I noticed quite a bit… This tattoo is gorgeous here by the way. The perfect surprise.” Jimin looks up at you, eye fucking you slowly. “I can see it now, the lucky bastard running his hands like this along your thighs,” Jimin had removed his gloves and placed his soft palms against your thighs. He slides them up, eyes daring you to stop him. You don’t.

“I can see him spreading your thighs apart, kissing up your leg...” He dips his head down and you shiver as his pouty lips make contact with your thigh, soft wet kisses dragging themselves higher and higher.

“Him removing all the clothing blocking you from sight...” Jimin grips the towel and you watch as it glides off of you, revealing your wet folds to him. “Baby girl, I’d really like something sweet for my birthday...”

You nod consenting to his statement, knowing he’s asking to taste you. He wastes no time, tongue tracing your folds as he sucks and licks you, tongue dancing across your clit as your hands bury themselves into his hair. His hands grip your hips, careful not to touch your tattoo. You can’t help the sounds you make, moans rolling from your lips as he pushes your legs farther open before guiding his fingers inside of you. His lips latch onto your clit, paying it special attention as he finger fucks you, but it’s not enough.

“Please, Jimin...”

He pulls away from you, chin glossy with your arousal, but continues to pump his fingers in you slowly.

“I want to feel you, all of you.”

You buck your hips suggestively, and he grins.

“Fuck, baby girl, I’d love to feel you grip me the way you’re gripping my fingers.”

With a lewd, slick sound, he pulls his fingers free, enjoying the way your wetness coats them. He spreads the two fingers that were inside of you and you can see the way the juices cling together, sticky between his digits. He brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean.

The sight along caused you to clench, a small mewl from your throat catching his attention.

“Such a dirty girl… That turned you on?”

Eyes hooded, you nod, biting your lip.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

His lips meet yours, and they’re as soft as they looked. You can taste yourself in his mouth, and you tense when you feel the flared tip of his cock sliding against your leaking cunt. He teases your opening before he pushes past, stretching your walls to fit his girth. The angle of the chair allows you to feel him well, the tip of his cock teasing at your g-spot. 

His hands travel up your torso, pushing up your shirt until his hands are cupping your breasts, thumbs teasing your sensitive nipples through the lace bra you wore. He eases his face down until his tongue is lined up with your breast, the wet muscle laving the peak through the material. His hips move steadily, plunging him deeper and deeper with each thrust, and you can feel yourself building closer to climax. 

“Shit, Jimin, you feel so good...”

He giggles, and it’s a beautiful sound, melodic and soothing, and you feel him speed up. A free hand rubs at your swollen nub, infinity symbols drawn against your pink clit. His teeth graze your neck and when you feel him bite you, you let go.

Legs trembling, it’s earth shattering the way Jimin takes you through the crests. He can feel each wave of the multiple orgasms he produced, and he takes advantage of the pulsing walls to join you in this euphoric state. 

He wasn’t planning to fill you, so he pulled out and allowed his cum to pool on your mound. Due to the angle, it began to leak down across your clit and towards your opening, which he watched with desire. He really wasn’t planning to fill you, but he couldn’t resist fucking his seed back into you, allowing your satin core to milk the rest of him into you.

You had fully intended to only get ink on your skin today. Expected a little pain with every puncture. The pleasure of your tattoo artist's cock penetrating your pussy walls was just an added bonus, one you’re pretty sure the birthday boy enjoyed as well.

-

ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕪 𝔹𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕙𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝕁𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕟, 𝕔𝕦𝕥𝕚𝕖, 𝕤𝕖𝕩𝕪, 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕪

[palbabor-writes]

Look Upon the Light

(Chapter 8: Terrify)

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, angst, general melancholy 

Word Count: 7765

“I know who you are.”

Shigaraki lifts your console up, turning it this way and that, ignoring your declaration. “The facing got knocked off,” he states, his four fingered grasp lifting it up for you to see. His eyes catch yours, the crimson ensnaring you. “I don’t think it’s going to fit back on. Lucky you, you don’t really need it to operate the machine.”

His pinky comes down against the plastic, joining the rest of his finger pads. The plating is gone in an instant, dissolving into a fine dust and drifting to the mats beneath Shigaraki’s feet.

Moving to Japan has been an absolutely terrible life choice.

Notes: Not beta edited, so any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. 

Chapter 1: Encounter || Chapter 2: Observe || Chapter 3: Hello || Chapter 4: Intoxicate || Chapter 5: Taste || Chapter 6: Teeth || Chapter 7: Polaroid ||

Terrify  ter·ri·fy /ˈterəˌfī/ verb cause to feel extreme fear.

In hindsight, you should have known. It was too quiet. 

The moments that stretched between Tomura’s visits narrowed and shrank. You’d come to expect him whenever you walked into your living room, your bedroom, your kitchen. He stuck to your ribs, pulled at you, wordlessly asking you to stay close. You’d wake to his warmth, his touch, the reds and whites blurring together. 

Despite these moments of tranquility, he was tense. Thrumming with an energy that made you shake. 

It was dangerous. 

But, you’d always known that, even if you pretended that the tiger at your door was as gentle as a kitten. Something was closing in. It felt like the calm before a storm, the air pulling back and pushing forward, misting over the pliant ground. 

Neither of you acknowledged it. 

Like the best ghost, it only made its presence known in the chill of pre-dawn. Slipping over your sleeping bodies and seeping into your skin, slowly tarnishing, rusting out. 

You wake one morning to see Tomura leaning over you. He isn’t touching and is barely breathing, his exhales coming out in little puffs of air. His eyes rake over you like coals, smoldering as they set you aflame. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, voice heavy with sleep. He doesn’t answer, just continues his silent introspection. There it is again, that creeping sensation that’s been nagging at you. You don’t question him further. Instead, you roll toward him, pressing your cold hands into his warmth. 

Something unspoken has been drifting above the two of you for weeks. You knew that you could give it a voice. But, you were unsure if he could. You wanted to tell him about it, to make it solid by speaking it into existence, but you didn’t know how he would react to your declaration. And provoking an unknown reaction out of Tomura was never a wise move. 

Did you even need it to be said when you’d already accepted it as fact? You loved him. 

And, he loved you. You knew that, you’d never doubted that. His walls had come crumbling down with yours and Tomura was nothing if not passionate and possessive. He couldn’t help himself. He might disguise it as something else, tell himself that it was another thing he was entitled to, but you knew the truth. You clutched at it, keeping it safe, holding it to you so he could never tear it away. Even if he left, even if you never saw him again, you would keep that small piece of him. 

You could feel that love when he came to you like this. He would soften, his voice and touches lingering, tender. He wouldn’t let you go. Insisting that you hold onto him, that you come to him. He was at his most desperate in these moments. 

Running your hands along his bare legs you look back up at his face. He is leaning closer, practically bent in half as his hair trails against you. 

“Come here,” you whisper, arms lifting to pull against his neck. He doesn’t resist and you tug him back to you, trying to leech some of his warmth. He lays his head against your breasts, his low breathing making you shiver. Your hands tangle in his white hair, cascading the tendrils against your palms. 

His eyes finally drift closed as the sun peeks playfully against your curtains. You should get up, but you can’t bring yourself to leave him alone in the bed. Burrowing against his slackened form, you fall blissfully into sleep, content to let your whirling anxieties still. 

******

It was the little things that tripped the two of you up. 

He’d been careful, and you’d been protective of his presence, keeping your movements to a minimum. But, it had always been a matter of time. He wasn’t infallible and you, well, you couldn’t stop time. 

At first, the extra patrols made you feel at ease, especially when you were returning to your apartment late. There was a new hero in the area and she seemed determined to make a name for herself. Although you had never run into her, the shops and local papers were chock full of her name. She had brought along two sidekicks, kids really, but between the three of them, the crime rates had steadily decreased. 

Then, you remembered what Tomura had told you once, “Guess this prefecture isn’t important enough for any hero to deem it worth their while…I doubt anyone will notice a villain respawning in the vicinity.” Now, the patrols just made you jumpy and you couldn’t help but worry for him each time he stepped out your door.  

Tomura became even more inscrutable as the days wore on. He was practically seething, a deep rage bubbling over him and tipping, spreading. It tainted his voice, his movements. However, he was careful to not take his brittle aggression out on you. 

No, he was never rough with you, at least, unless you wanted him to be. But, that was a different sort of dynamism he would retreat into. And it was one that you welcomed. Often, it could pull him from the brink of his restlessness.  

Even with the distractions, Tomura was still on edge. He’d always worn his emotions in his eyes and body language. You could map every inch of him now and that power never brought reassurance. You didn’t question his anger. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, you just knew that it was a part of him. It sat against his heart, beating in tandem with the muscle. But, it wasn’t his budding aggression that set things in motion. 

Instead, something more insidious crept in. 

******

A knock at your door startles you, your pen dragging against the drafting paper, an unseemly line etched across the design. Shit. You look at your phone. Although Tomura didn’t text every time he came by, he usually kept his travels to and from your apartment to odd hours, like pre-dawn, or the dead of night. According to your device, it’s just after noon. No, something isn’t right…

The knocking comes again, louder, insistent. 

You stand, gulping down your shaking nerves. It could be nothing, you tell yourself as you walk to the door, your feet padding against the wood, just calm down, (Y/N). 

Two men stand outside your doorway. They are wearing professional, dark suits and they look like bad fucking news. 

“Miss (L/N)?” the shorter one asks, removing his hat and bowing to you. 

“Y-yes,” you stammer, your heart beating tightly against your chest. 

“I’m Detective Ito and this is Detective Yamashita,” he gestures briefly to the taller man, who gives you a cursory bow. “Sorry to bother you during the work day, but we have a few questions for you. Do you mind if we come in?” his voice is liquid and you distrust it immediately. 

“Right now? I’m in the middle of a project, is there any way I can get a card and possibly meet with you later?” You try to make yourself stand up straight, projecting a calming lull over your tone. Come on, (Y/N), you’re not bothered by this, if anything you’ve been preparing for this. Handle them and don’t let anything slip, you have nothing to hide. Except for the villain who haunts your bed. No, don’t think that. You’ve got this...  

“I’m sorry Miss (L/N),” the taller gentlemen, Detective Yamashita, presses, stepping toward you. “It can’t. This concerns some delicate information and we need to make sure we can clear you. While you’re not being accused of anything,” he amends, catching sight of your narrowed eyes, “we do need to make sure we’re covering our bases.” 

“And my rights as an American citizen?” you press, holding your ground. You have a feeling it will be a null point, but it’s worth a shot. 

“I’m afraid your visa doesn’t grant you any special privileges. Now, I’ll ask you again, may we come in? Or, do we need to come back with something a little more…stringent?” He lets the final word hang, a warning. Detective Yamashita is clearly playing the role of bad cop in this little interrogation, that’s not an interrogation. Yeah, right.

You pause, biting your lip, thinking. If you push back, then you might find yourself in more hot water, besides, as far as you can tell, you aren’t under arrest. That means they don’t have anything concrete, for the time being.

You bow, “I apologize gentlemen, I don’t mean to be rude, I just don’t understand what two detectives could possibly want to question me about. Please, come in.” 

They seem placated by this response and follow you into your living room. You offer them a seat on your couch and bring your work stool around to sit in front of them, hands folded in your lap. Here’s hoping the demure act will work in your favor…

“It’s no problem Miss (Y/N), I know you haven’t been in Japan long. I’m sure it’s unsettling to see us. Now, before we proceed, would you please show us your U.S. passport, work visa and residence card?” 

You nod, keeping your face neutral as you gather your paperwork, holding them out to Detective Ito, who takes a small flashlight to them, scanning for any forgeries. Satisfied, he hands them back, a small smile on his lips. Still doing that good cop routine, you think irritatedly, tossing the papers on your media stand. 

“We’ve heard that you’ve found a boyfriend while you’ve been here,” detective Yamashita pries, crossing his legs and leaning toward you. “Where is he?” 

“Not sure I’d call him that, he’s more of an acquaintance. He lives in another city,” you lie. Keep things simple and to the point, don’t supply anything you don’t mean to. 

“Which one?” 

“Esuha City,” you reply, keeping your eyes on the detectives. 

“Your landlady said he has very distinctive features,” Detective Yamashita pauses, writing something down. Then, his eyes lift, waiting. He’s not going to let you slip past this query. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, your head tilting questioningly. 

“She said he had white hair.” 

You tap at your chin, pretending to think. “Oh, I believe he did. He dyes it a lot.” 

“What color is it now?” 

“Not sure, I haven’t seen him in a while.” Well, you think snidely, that one is partially true, it had been about a few days since you’d last seen Tomura. 

“A co-worker of yours, Mr. Suzuki, also mentioned something interesting about your, er, friend,” Detective Ito pipes up, and you arch an eyebrow at him, not answering, holding back. 

“He said that he acted strangely when he came by. Apparently, he was very aggressive. Mr. Suzuki said he felt threatened.” 

It’s really shitty luck that interaction has come back to bite you. “Oh,” you feign remembrance, “well, my co-worker, Mr. Suzuki, had decided to walk into my apartment unannounced and without knocking. Naturally, I thought he might have been a burglar. I’m sure my landlady has told you that my unit has been burglarized before?” 

“She did,” Detective Yamashita replies, his eyes finally drifting away from yours. “While this might be a long shot, we would like for you to look at some pictures.” He snaps open his briefcase and pulls a collection of images out, pressing them into your hands. 

You can feel them both eyeing you carefully as you shift through the images. Some of them are Tomura, some are others, and most are blurry. You lift one curiously. It’s the image of a man standing on a train platform in a dark trench coat. Squinting, you try to see the station name. You can just make out the lettering, Musutafu Station. It’s the one that is close to UA. Taking another look over the others you see the same station tiles, your heart feels like it’s floating away. 

Maybe they really are just checking leads, they do seem a bit bumbling, but that could also be an act. Something that makes you drop your guard, something that could put both you and Tomura in danger. 

“No, I’m sorry. Although,” you tug out one of the pictures that is not Tomura, “this one looks a little familiar. I just can’t think where I’ve seen them before…”

“That’s the League of Villain’s leader,” Detective Ito provides, and Detective Yamashita glares at him, his eyes darkening. 

“Oh! God, is that who you’re looking for?” you ask, eyes wide. 

“We’ve been canvassing the area, asking questions of some of the locals. A girl in downtown Tokyo thought she saw him the other day, like I said, just covering our bases.” Detective Yamashita admits, taking the pictures from you. 

“But, that doesn’t explain how I ended up in your investigation.  Is it because my friend had white hair? I mean, not to be rude, but that feels, vague…”

“Since Shigaraki was seen near the train, we traced other CCTV cameras in the station. We noticed that someone similar to his description was seen exiting at this station, as well as several stops in Tokyo a few months ago. Your, uh, friend, as of now, fits a similar description. We’re just checking the area for anyone who has been in contact with persons similar to Shigaraki.”

“So, no recent sightings?” You opt to ignore that last bit of information, it would make more sense for you to be worried about the bigger picture. 

“It’s terrifying to think that a villain might be lurking around. After the burglary, I really considered moving to another complex. I was hoping that that new hero would turn things around.” You duck your head, trying your best to look flustered and scared. They aren’t hard emotions to reach for, given the circumstances.

“He hasn’t been seen in a while, ma’m, please, don’t worry,” Detective Ito says encouragingly, earning him another glare from Detective Yamashita. 

“I just, I don’t understand something, why talk with my co-worker?” you ask, your voice low. 

They're hiding something. Suzuki could have reported his minor encounter with Tomura to the police, or maybe these men approached him. It was frustrating and frightening. It’s something so small, such a tiny slip in time. You’d honestly forgotten about Suzuki’s visit, so much had happened since then. But now, thanks to Suzuki’s report, there are detectives sitting in your living room. There’s no way you can plausibly deny Tomura’s presence in your apartment. Both Suzuki and the apartment manager had seen him. 

“We have reason to believe that he might have-” Detective Ito is cut off by Detective Yamashita’s throat clearing, a rasping sound that reverberates in your small apartment. You gulp, pulling yourself from your musing, your hands fidgeting in your lap. 

“Ito, please. I’m sorry ma’am, we aren’t able to give that information out at this time. At present, we have no further questions for you Miss (L/N), but, before we go, do you mind if we take a quick look around?”   

“Um, of course,” you smile weakly. What else could you do? The more you resisted, the more suspicious you looked. Your stomach drops as they stand and you feel like you are going to be sick. 

These detectives knew about Tomura, there’s no way they didn’t. They might be checking now, but they’ll be back. And the next time they might not…

No, you can’t think about that right now. Just go along with what they want and get them out of here. You can figure out a plan of action when they’re gone. 

The detectives are already pacing around the rest of the living room when you finally stand from your seat. Thankfully, this part of their investigation should be easy. 

The most Tomura ever kept at your place was the two pairs of sweatpants that you’d bought him and those you can easily explain away. You’d also kept your food purchases to a minimum. Lately, he hadn’t been eating much of anything, so you’d saved on the grocery bill. Thank God for that. 

Overall, your apartment looks like it just housed you. 

The two detectives putter around for a few minutes, opening drawers, examining shelves and closets. They even peek in your bedroom, but Detective Ito had practically closed the door on Detective Yamashita’s nose when he poked into the dark room. The smaller detective shook his head, aghast at the very thought of entering something so feminine and private. And odd reluctance, for a man who called himself a detective. 

Concluding their search, they head back to your front door and you trudge after them, feeling numb.

“Well, Miss (L/N), thank you for your time,” Detective Yamashita bows, followed closely by his compatriot. “If you hear or see anything out of the ordinary, please, don’t hesitate to give us a call. We’d also like to hear from your…friend if he drops by again.” 

“Of course,” you demure, bowing back, praying that this is about to end. 

“Have a pleasant day, we’ll be in touch.” Detective Ito grins and the two men make their way to the next apartment floor, their feet heavy against the carpet. Once your door is shut you fall down into the floor of your genkan, your heart pounding and hands shaking. Oh God, you have to…Wait, should you text him? You’re not using his name on your phone, but what if they’re already tracing it? Can they do that? 

You pull yourself to your feet, your legs wobbly, and drag yourself back to your drafting desk, snatching up your phone. Your fingers tremble as you type in your message. You don’t know if you should put it in some kinda vague, coded wording, or if you should just toss the damn phone out the window and resort to smoke signals. Damn it. 

[You: 1:13 pm]

Hey, some men came over. They were asking questions. 

Well, it certainly doesn’t seem like a vague text, you think, looking over the message and hitting send. No, it looks like it’s screaming that you’re harboring Tomura Shigaraki. You move to your floor, back braced against the wall, waiting. It might be hours before he texts back. But, you didn’t want him coming over and then finding himself immediately captured by the police. 

You bury your face in your hands, a low groan wracking out of your lips. Worst case, he won’t answer at all and all you’d have left of him are memories, not even realizing that they were the last interactions that the two of you would share. 

The sudden vibration of your phone snaps you out of your head, and your hands shake so badly they send the device skittering across your mats. You tumble after it, lifting the screen and breathing a sigh of relief. He answered. 

[Tenko: 1:23 pm]

5-2 Kusunokicho 7-chome

It’s an address. You highlight the text, hit copy, and paste it into the mapping app on your phone. It looks like it’s a tea shop. You stand, legs still trembling, and grab your purse and jacket, heading for your door. You poke your head out, into the hallway, and gather your strength. If you are going to do this, you need to look natural. Besides, if they are following you, hopefully Tomura would know what to do. 

You gulp as you lock your door behind you, a morbid thought jumping into your mind. Well, here’s hoping that knowing what to do didn’t mean killing anyone. 

******

The tea shop is busy. It’s raining, so that might have contributed to the bustle inside the shop. You pull the hood of your jacket higher, trying to shield your face from the freezing droplets. Tomura hadn’t texted again and you didn’t feel like it would be a good idea to ping your location on your phone. 

In fact, you think belatedly, you might as well switch it off. As you power the device down, you hear a low whistle from the alleyway across the narrow street. 

You turn your head slowly, the rain pattering against your face. There is a figure loitering toward the back. It isn’t distinguishable as anything other than dark. Well, fingers crossed you aren’t about to be murdered. 

Splashing across the street you duck down the alleyway, thankful you’d thrown on some heavy boots for this excursion. The figure is stationary and you pause a few feet back, waiting. He lowers his hood, red eyes still focused on the street behind you. You almost run to him. You have to tense your legs to resist the temptation, your nails digging into your palms. 

“Were you followed?” he rasps, watchful, his eyes flashing at you, the street, and finally, back to you. You shake your head. 

You’d taken a route similar to the one you’d transversed when you came to the clinic to drop off the diagram for that prosthetic. Each time you’d switched trains or busses you had discretely studied the faces around you, looking for any repeats, anyone who might be tracking you. You’d even drifted into a few other shops before reaching this street, often ducking out a back door and taking the alleys to the next street over. 

You’d been careful, you just hoped it was enough. 

“This way, stay alert,” Tomura murmurs, his hands still firmly in his pockets. He leads you down another street and into a smaller back alley. He’s doing his own weaving now, taking you over some of the pathways twice, his eyes always peering over his shoulder, observant and sharp. Finally, he pauses in front of a dilapidated door and shoves his way inside. 

“Come on,” he calls back to you, holding the door open, allowing some space for you to slink past him. He follows, yanking the metal closed, sealing you both inside. 

You shrink back against the darkness, your eyes struggling to adjust. You can hear Tomura moving toward you, his breathing a low scratch against the silence. He stops at your side, the warmth of his body close. 

Neither of you move for a time. You’re both listening. The only sounds you can make out is the rain and your own heartbeat. You close your eyes, your head thumping against the door. “God,” you whisper, your voice thick with disuse. 

The sound makes Tomura shift closer, his arms pulling you to him, away from the cold metal. He presses a quick kiss against your temple and tugs you further into the room. 

It looks abjectly barren. 

There’s an old mattress in one corner and a smattering of trash, mostly cans and takeout containers, strewn over the greasy floorboards. It looks like it’s operating as his bedroom and the thought makes your heart squeeze. It’s fucking disgusting. No wonder he used you as a place to crash in the beginning. No human should live like this. 

He flops down to sit on the mattress and pulls you after him. The two of you perch on the uneven surface and you let out a long sigh, overwhelmed. Tomura senses this and doesn’t press you. He lets you catch your breath, welcoming your leaning touch. Once you’ve shaken off your jitters, you begin.

“They were detectives. They said they saw you at a Tokyo station, so they checked CCTV and traced you to the stop by my apartment.” Tomura is silent and you gather your breath to continue. 

“They talked with the landlady and they talked with that idiot coworker of mine, you know, the one who tried to come in the apartment that one night. It was vague shit, I tried my best to ask more than I talked. 

One detective kept trying to get the other to stop telling me details. He finally shut down the whole thing, saying they’d be in touch and for me to give them a call if I saw anything. I…I just hope this doesn’t fuck things up for you, for-for us…I don’t...goddamn it…” You bury your face in your arms, a sob stuttering from you. 

Tomura is quiet, but he pulls you into his lap, arms wrapping around your quaking shoulders.  

******

He isn’t sure what he wants. 

It’s not a sensation he experiences often and he’s finding it hard to grapple with. If he’s thinking selfishly, he would keep you with him. He’d drag you to hell and back if he could. He doesn’t want to give you up and he isn’t even sure if he can. A deep welling of possessiveness had overtaken him. You were his, just as he was yours. 

It was strange to admit that. 

He wanted to break everything to pieces, to decay it into nothingness, but, over the last few months, he’d come to adjust those goals. Not just with you, no, the same leniency applied to this league of his. They should have what they wanted, too. 

So, he let you cry against him. 

He wants to know what giving is like. To tell you that he could give you something of his. After all, he’d stripped you down to nothingness, taking and taking until you had finally lain bare and open in front of him. You’d started the process naturally, giving coming as easily to you as breathing. 

He knew he didn’t want you around the league. 

You were too different, too removed from that sense of desperation and fanatical idealism. And you didn’t deserve it. He doesn’t like seeing you in a place like this, dilapidated and crushed, sobbing against his chest, your warm tears soaking into his skin. 

No, you deserved to be comfortable. You weren’t a fighter. You would try if he asked, he knew you would. But it wasn’t you. Besides, what did you want? 

He would have to let you go. He’d known it from the first moment he’d felt your lips running across his. Still, it had come too soon. Perhaps that could be his gift to you? Letting you settle back into normality. 

******

“What should I do?” You ask him, lifting your head from his chest, eyes puffy and tired. His gaze is clouded, the red murky, unfocused. 

“Whatever you want,” he says, his voice hollow. 

“Tomura,” you admonish, “I...I just don’t want you falling into some trap. Not because of this stupid…I don’t even know what to call it. I thought we were careful...I-I don’t know. I’m just so fucking mad.” 

He smiles at your outburst, his scar lilting up. “What do you want to do?” He presses his forehead against yours, exhaling heavily, waiting for your answer.

“Move,” you reply, tipping your fingers up to trace along his jaw. 

“Then move, it should be easy for you to get back to the U.S.” 

You sigh, pulling your head back. “No, I don’t want to do that. I just mean, move somewhere that’s safe for-” 

“The league is regrouping soon. We’ve caught wind of some…information. It’s going to take us farther out of the city. I was going to tell you tonight. I don’t know how long it will be. Could be months…” He speaks slowly, his voice lulling, soothing you, even as you take in what he’s actually saying. I’m leaving, get out while you can. 

There is a long silence following his announcement, and you lean against him, burying your face against the rough fabric of his trench coat. So, just go home? Go back to the states? There has to be something that you’re not thinking of…

Tomura tilts your face up, craving contact. He runs his rough lips over yours, carefully letting his hands tap over your neck. 

His kiss is light. The fleeting caress makes you press against him, your fingers curling into the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer. You moan when he tilts his head, sliding wetly across your lips. His tongue traces the seam of your mouth and you open, tangling with him. Tomura grunts at your eagerness and his nose bumps yours, his exhaled breath shaky, wanting. 

You sigh. How were you supposed to just say ok? How could you be ok without having him like this? What if you wanted to try and remain at his side...could you ask that of him? What if…wait…wait…that’s it! 

You pull back from him, gasping and he gives you a disgruntled look, a frown creasing his features. “Oh...that’s it! I know what to do!” 

“Keep your voice down,” he reprimands, as you lean back to reach for your purse. You dig in the scattered contents and emerge with a small business card, a beaming smile across your face. 

“Nico! He said to call him if I wanted to take him up on that job offer. He said I could draft for him. He’s at that clinic, and he said they work in a grey area, but they have some serious connections. It’s perfect. It lets me slip away, I’ve just got to be careful how I do it.” 

Tomura snorts at your enthusiasm. “So, you just get a new job and all your troubles go away?” 

“No, I tell my job I’m transferring back to the states and I pack up my apartment. It won’t be the cheapest thing I’ve ever done, but if I can pull it off, then it’s the perfect solution. I can find some place else to live, and slip into a new life, one where you can still come and go.”

He stares, his eyes wide in that childlike manner, the pupils blown. You smile and fling your arms around him, kissing along his neck. He grunts and presses you back, pinning your arms to your sides. 

“Stop squirming,” he growls and you still obediently, not wanting to agitate him. 

“Come on, don’t be like that, Tomura. It could work. At least let me try.” You plead, watching his face, trying to see if you could get a read on him. 

“You actually are insane,” he sighs, rolling his eyes and turning his head to look away from your stare. 

“No, I love you.” 

It just tumbles out, but it’s too late to unring the bell. Besides, you stand by it. 

He freezes underneath you, his head whipping back to yours. His eyes are sharp and his lips are lifted in a deep scowl. It’s an intense look he’s giving you, almost raw, dangerous. It makes your stomach flip, uncertainty pooling in your gut. You find yourself looking away and biting your lip, “I mean it, I-” 

He doesn’t give you a chance to say anything else. 

He’s pulling you against him with bruising force, his hands trembling as they press into your skin. He can’t even seem to focus enough to land his lips on yours. He tries again, then stops himself, his face lifting away, but he won’t let you go. 

His arms are wrapped around you, his grip tightening and relaxing. He tries to look at you, but ends up ducking his head once your eyes catch his, burying his face in your neck, panting against your skin. He can’t stay still. No, he’s groaning, so brokenly against you that you’re worried he’s going to shake himself to bits. 

You lift your arms, belatedly, to wrap around his neck. You try to hold him to you, desperate to seep a little reassurance, fuck, a little sanity into his trembling body. Tomura shakes his head at the confinement and shoves you down, against the mattress. 

You squeak as your back hits the musty sheets, but he’s pinning you under him before you can protest. 

“What did you say to me?” he finally snarls, his lips curled over his teeth. “No. I know you didn’t just fucking tell me that. How could you even- How? I’m a monst- I-I...” He can’t string his words together. His head dips to your neck, his lips rough against your skin. He can’t catch his breath and he won’t keep still.

You’re gasping under him, trying to hold him. But, it’s impossible to control him. You just shut your eyes against the emotions that he’s pulling from you and let him seethe above you. 

“Look at me,” he growls, his voice hoarse and ragged. You try to wince your eyes open, but you’re too overwhelmed, you just can’t, you can’t look. 

Why, you think distantly, why can’t you look? 

You tell him you love him and now you can’t look at him? Are you afraid of what you’ll see? Afraid of the rejection that you know is coming? It doesn’t change anything, you tell yourself, even if he tells you to get out, it doesn’t change what’s happened between the two of you. No. If this is what you want, then tell him that. He has to...he has to hear it. 

“Fucking look at me, (Y/N).” 

“T-Tomura,” you try, a tear of frustration, of fear, slipping down your face. “Tomura, I mean it. I lov-” 

“Stop it,” he moans, his breath hot against your cheek, his lips following the path of your tear, pressing the salty wetness away. He’s straddling your hips and his hands are curled, pressing into the bed. 

“Don’t you fucking dare. You don’t mean it. You can’t-” 

“Stop it, Tomura. Just, stop. You think I don’t mean it? How can you say that? After everything we, no, God, how can you fucking say that I don’t love you? When I’m right here, telling you that I do? You don’t get to dictate how I feel. What gives you the right to say that I don’t?” you ask, your voice an angry whisper. You can feel him shaking, his body wracked with his shivers and the realization gives you the courage to open your eyes. Your anger melts away at the sight that greets you. 

He’s hunched over, his hair draped across his face and his eyes are clenched shut. He looks like he’s ready to fall apart. One of his hands lifts to scratch at his neck, dragging red lines down the scarred skin. 

As if they have a mind all their own, your own hands lift, tugging free of his weight to cup around his face. He tries to yank his way out of your grasp but you just tighten your hold. He’s not getting away that easily.  

“Tomura,” you call, keeping his face captive in your hands, forcing him back to you. “Tomura, I love you.” 

He sags. 

His whole body seems to shrink and his eyes finally meet your steely gaze. The red is bright, wild, gleaming in the darkness. You gulp and furrow your brow, a trembling exhale falling from your lips. You have to say it now. There’s no going back. The world is shattering, splintering to pieces above you, but he has to know. Before you lose him, he’s gotta at least know that one thing in this world that he hates so much, cares about him. Fuck, loves him. 

“Sure,” you begin, still gripping your fingertips into the side of his head, slowly slipping up to tug at his hair. “I’m insane. I’ve fallen in love with someone who wants absolutely nothing to do with what I can offer. 

It’s not going to work Tomura, I know it’s not. But, goddamn it, at least let me try. I know I don’t get to keep you, I don’t even know what you’re fucking planning to do. You could want to burn down the world for all I care. I just...I just want to hold on a little longer.” 

He’s slack jawed and his eyes are wide and unfocused. He’s still panting but he’s not fighting against your hold anymore. Finally, he closes his eyes and lowers his head, his forehead coming to rest against yours. 

“Say it again,” he requests, his voice muted, thick with longing. 

“What? The whole thing?” 

He lets out a wheezing laugh and you slowly start to breathe again. 

“You know what I want,” he murmurs. You lift his head from you, tilting until you catch his eyes. 

“I love you, Tomura.” A low shudder echoes up his spine and his eyes drift closed again. 

“Fuck,” he rumbles, tugging his head from your hands. He doesn’t go far. Instead, he flops to his side and drags you over, draping you across him, his arms latching around you, keeping you in place. 

You sigh, relieved, dipping your head against him, feeling for his heartbeat. You’re both quiet and the room stills around you. Your fingers are tracing lazy circles over his crossed arms, careful to avoid his clenched fists. He presses his nose against your hair, inhaling deeply. 

“Stay,” he says above you, his breath stirring across the top of your head.     

You smile against his chest and duck into his warmth. His grip on you tightens, lean muscles coiling, holding you to him. You can feel his lips as they run along the top of your head, tapping soft kisses into your hair.  

Ok, so it’s not the most romantic thing you’ve ever heard, but you wouldn’t have wanted him any other way. 

******

Your new apartment is nothing to sneeze at. Nico hadn’t been joking about that pay raise. He also was so much more than you were expecting. Not in a bad way, just in a, hey, I know some shit just went down, are you ok, kinda way. He didn’t pry, but he’d gone out of his way all the same.

The rest of the team at the clinic has also been absolutely stellar at helping you to get set up. Need something moved? On it! It’s like a big family and you can’t wipe the smile off your face most days.  

As for your old job, they had been disappointed, but they understood why you wanted to get back to America. However, the American side of that job hadn't been so thrilled at your resignation, but you had received a glowing review from your old boss stateside. You liked to pull it up on your new laptop, reading over the words of encouragement and shaking your head at just how seriously you’d taken her advice. 

Your Japanese work buddies were heartbroken, Hanabi most of all. But, you promised to keep in touch. You hadn’t quite figured out how you were going to do that, but that was a problem for another day. 

All in all, things were going to plan. You had asked Nico for a little bit of extra help with the paperwork, explaining some of the details to him, and he had been quick to get you set up with a new passport, visa and residency card. It was like the old you was just a blip. You’d just need to keep your head down for a while, check the news, and see where all the extra precautions took you. It wouldn’t be easy, but what part of life was?

Tomura had stopped by after you finished setting up your new tv and console. Appropriately, he’d said he wanted to try it out and had then proceeded to ignore you while you set up the rest of the room. You didn’t mind. 

The two of you were trying to make the most of the next couple of days. That lead he’d mentioned was somewhere on the outskirts of Tokyo and he wasn’t sure how long he’d be gone. He’d reminded you of that fact, over and over, until you’d finally told him to shut up and let you enjoy the time that you did have with him. 

“Hey,” you call, unboxing the last of your new dishes, “got you something.” He tilts his head toward you, eyes still glued to his game. Rolling your eyes at his inattention, you wander over, leaning over your new couch to wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Pause it,” you demand, dropping a kiss against his temple. He grumbles, but you persist, nibbling on the shell of his ear when he tries to prolong his session. 

“What?” He lifts his head up to look at you, his hair falling back against your arms. 

“I want to give you something,” you reply, pressing your lips to his forehead before unwinding your arms and stepping around the couch. He eyes you suspiciously as you perch on your coffee table. You lift a key up, wagging it beside your face. 

“It’s a key,” you taunt. He smirks and snatches it from you, pocketing it and tugging you forward. 

His kiss is soft, so achingly soft that you melt into his arms immediately, flopping against his lean chest. 

“Stop being so dramatic,” he grumbles, shifting you to a more comfortable position across his lap. Your legs straddle his hips and he holds you against him, his fingers warm against your hips. 

“Can’t say I never got you anything,” you tease, leaning back and grinning down at him. 

“Same,” he huffs, reaching into his pocket again and tossing a small phone at you. You fumble to catch it. He snorts at your scrambling and you pout. 

“It’s not like you’re throwing it at a normal angle or anything.” 

It’s small in your hands, almost obsolete in this modern age. You flip it open and already see a contact programmed in: Tenko Shimura. 

“So you don’t bring any more cops around. It also can’t be traced.” His voice is hushed, almost embarrassed. It makes your heart flutter. 

“Awe, a burner phone. I’ll cherish it always,” you jab and tilt his chin up, so you can keep kissing him. 

******

A low vibrating wakes you. Blearily, you check your phone, only to be greeted with a normal screen, no missed messages or emails. Huh? The vibrating continues and you suddenly realize what it is. Flinging your feet out of bed, you rush to your charger, unhooking the old phone Tomura gave you. 

[Tenko: 2:23 am]

Out of the city. Found a new friend. 

There’s a picture underneath the words and you click the buttons until it lets you highlight and bring up the image. 

It looks like he’s in a forest and you’re shocked he has a signal. But…what the hell is that? 

There’s something nestled between all the greenery and it looks ominously like a man. If it’s real, it’s practically a giant, no, actually hulking would be a better word…

It’s practically a living, hulking mountain. Unsure if your sleepy brain is playing tricks on you, you exit the image, deciding that 2 am is not the time to unpack this particular phenomenon. 

[You: 2:35 am]

Looks, uh, interesting? Be safe & Love you. 

- Fin

Author’s Note:

Ugh, this was such a bittersweet chapter for me. I wrote this fic in its entirety back in the last few weeks of August. I had time before my classes started again and I leapt at the opportunity. In many ways, I identified more and more with the reader insert as I tried to pour out my ideas. I wanted to hold onto this tiny story that I’d outlined, to see if I could make something like this work after such a long break from writing on this scale. 

So, out came Look Upon the Light. 

It was like a fever dream. I couldn’t stop now that I’d started. After I reached the 8th, and final, chapter, I spent the next two months pouring over what I’d written, editing endlessly. I wanted to make things feel just right. 

I went from this bombastic climax to something more subdued. Why not let it be an anticlimactic ending? Life often works that way and sometimes things just, well, end. 

Tomura, in particular, has changed so much over the course of this journey. 

There were days when I felt like he sounded terrible, nothing like the complex character that I loved so much. But, with my sister's wonderful edits and suggestions, main ideas & patience and countless read-reads of the manga, I got a handle on him and I am so proud of how he’s come out.

Canonically, I feel like this gap in the main story is the only time something like this romance could happen to him. Tomura is in a fragile place. For the first time in his life there’s no one looking over his shoulder and he’s become a character who is worlds away from where he started. 

His goals are finally solidifying and he acknowledges that the members of his league deserve to have what they want too. Inside, no matter what has been stripped from him, he’s always been Tenko Shimura: that little boy who wanted to play with the outliers, to make sure that he was letting them feel included too. I indulgently like to think that if someone like the reader existed, their relationship might help him to come to terms with this part of himself. 

Finally, this wouldn’t have been possible without you, dear readers. I have cherished each and every kudo, comment, subscription, like, and reblog. I was so scared to put this out. There are so, so many talented writers for this fandom and I was nervous. It had been so long since I’d written anything on this scale, would it sound ok? You all have been so supportive and welcoming and I love you so much. The response I received from posting this let me feel confident enough to explore some of my other favorite characters. 

So, thank you. From the bottom of my heart, I mean it when I say that you all are amazing and I wish each of you so much joy. 

While this won’t be the last time I write for Tomura, there are other facets of his personality that I want to explore, I will wait a bit to do any updates to this story. I want things to catch up and settle within the manga itself before I toss the reader back into Tomura’s life. I do hope that they can come together again, as I have become their biggest fan. 

In the meantime, The Gap in the Door will explore some of their other interactions. Some take place around the time of the chapter Polaroid, but some will look into other parts of the story. If you have a prompt, or want to see another glimpse into anything that happened, let me know. These two are so much fun to write and I enjoy head cannoning how they could fit together. 

In short, thank you again for all you’ve done for me and take care of yourselves.

Tags: @inumorph​, @rekoii​, @diaouranask​, @possum-person​, @akutaguagua​

[wordsnstuff]

Guide To Plot Development

Patreon || Ko-Fi || Masterlist || Work In Progress || Studyblr || Studygram

Where To Start

Start with the zero draft. Honestly, the only thing you need to know about your story in order to complete a solid zero draft is the basic timeline of events and 2-3 main characters. Zero drafts don’t need to include any minor characters, backstory, world building, subplots, anything. They’re just a rough estimate of what your story is going to be and where it’s going to go. 

This way, you have something to work with when you do approach the task of maturing your story, which is a lot easier to do when you have already gotten the garbage ideas onto paper, seen them, realized they’re bad, clipped out the good parts, and developed a better understanding of your story’s trajectory. 

Placing The Climax

The climax is two things; the apex of built tension and the turning point of the conflict. Recognizing that as a definition makes pin-pointing the climax of your story much easier, especially if you’re the kind of person who likes to start with a solid premise and work forward from there, rather than build a sturdy skeleton and fill in the blanks as you write the first draft. If you’re still having trouble, the climax is usually one of, if not the most exciting parts of the plot, and that comes from anticipating a massive shift in the story. 

Outlining For Discovery Writers

I know a lot of people out there will read this article and question whether they can put it to use because they’re not an intense plotter who relies on outlines, character sheets, etc. A lot of writers prefer to let characters grow on their own and the conflict present itself naturally, which is less predictable but very exciting, especially when brand new ideas hit you out of nowhere. If you’re one of these people, fear not. An easy way to settle the slight nervousness that comes with diving straight into a blank page is to write down all of the basic or specific ideas you have in one spot where you can see it all and as you go along, refer to it for inspiration or answers when you hit a snag in your story’s flow. It’s not exactly an outline, but it’s a lead, and it’s worth doing. 

Balancing Planning With Pantsing

A lot of writers who decide to take their stories seriously and commit to finishing a large project make the mistake of thinking that means they have to plan like a professional (which, spoiler, most professionals don’t do). What happens in these cases is that writers plan so meticulously for so long that the story becomes... boring. We all get kind of tired of stories when they take up too much of our imagination, but getting tired of a story before even a word of it is written should be avoided. 

I have a personal rule that I never give myself more than 6 weeks to plan a story. That seems like a lot to most people, but I also zero draft all of my stories before I plan them, so I never start a first draft with a blank page. I suggest that if you frequently run into this issue, you try this method and between each serious draft, you give yourself at least a month of space from it in order to refresh your mind. 

What Comes After Drafting

Foreshadowing, symbolism, subplot integration, and micro-development. These are all examples of things that writers try to plan before their first crack at a draft and end up betraying their ability follow through with writing the story at all. When it comes to complicating the story, these elements all come into the picture much later, when the main plot, character profiles, and structure is solid and ready to be finalized in the interest of moving forward in the writing process. When you’re plotting, shove these things out of your mind. You can’t input symbolism into a story that doesn’t exist, and you can’t develop characters that haven’t been born. 

Common Struggles

– The common struggles section of my “guide to__” posts are general questions sent in by readers on the topic at hand. If you have a question that has not been addressed thus far, you’ll probably find the answer in this section. As always, you’re welcome to send other questions to my inbox if you don’t find the answer in this post. –

~ How do I correctly pace a story?... The pace should depend on the genre and point of view, as these things are the framework of every plot. Generally, anticipation should be a slow burn and the big moments should be snappy and explosive, rather than drawn out. The exposition, climax, and resolution should take up the least amount of time in your story, and the rising action should be the majority of the rest of it.

~ What needs to be in your beginning, middle and end?... The answer to this question is answered when you choose a definitive structure model to either follow or build off of. I have a whole post about it here: Plot Structures

~ How can I know if I’ve resolved my major conflict enough?... The resolution of your story should leave the reader feeling satisfied with the protagonist’s overcoming their obstacle, but still leave enough room to anticipate more to come. 

~ How should the plot close?... This is entirely up to you, but I would take into account the possibility of a sequel. If it’s 100% a standalone story, give it a clean ending and tie up the loose ends, pat yourself on the back for all of the clever foreshadowing everyone missed, and leave the protagonists and beloved secondary characters’ futures looking bright. 

~ How do you write a plot around a theme?... Most stories that have a central theme are born from answering a tough question. George Orwell’s 1984 asked “What would the world look like if totalitarianism ruled society?”. Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 dealt with censorship and questioned whether bliss only belongs to the ignorant. Bottom line is, pick the theme you want to explore, and then ask yourself the tough questions. The story should be the process by which you find the answer. 

~ What is the best way to handle a large cast within a plot?... You have your main conflict and the plotline that surrounds it, and then you have various subplots, around 2-3 where you explore the world/characters further and immerse the reader in the stories. You can convince the reader to become invested in a large number of characters by making them heavily involved in the subplots. They should all touch the main plot considerably, but the bulk of their development should be in the subplot, and if you were to have 15 characters, you’d want around 3 subplots where 3-5 of them were important players. However, large casts that reader’s have trouble keeping up with is a problem that usually results from a writer’s inability to make cuts or combinations. Remember: the reader’s experience is the most important thing. It’s better to downsize your ideas than lose your readers altogether. 

Other Resources From My Blog That Help With This:

What Do You Do When You Over-Plan?

Resources For Plot Development

How To Write A Good Plot Twist

How To Foreshadow

Writing Long Stories Without Filler

Writing Stories About Your Own Experiences

Novel Planning 101

Tackling Subplots

Things A Reader Needs From A Story

How To Turn A Good Idea Into A Good Story

Planning A Scene

When To Stop Planning

How To Outline Outside Chapter Structure

Tips on Mapping Out A Series

Outlining By Chapter

How To Outline Effectively

Tips On Starting A Scene

How To Start A Novel

Character Driven vs. Plot Driven Stories

Plot Structures

Planning A Scene In A Story

Effective Ways Of Planning Chapters

Writing Meaningful Stories

Finding Your Own Writing Style

How To Write A Story Timeline

Making A Story Come Together

Tips on Planning A Series

Coming Up With Scene Ideas

General Resources For Plot Development

How To Engage The Reader

Coming Up With “Original” Ideas

Building Upon A Good Premise

Pacing Appropriately

–

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[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 4

Welcome back! Hope you enjoy✨

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Violence, cursing, shouting, and fighting. No blood mention. Just broken bones and stuff.

2.1k+ words [originally 1.6k but I revised it and added more details!]

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5 Part 6

Sensing another one behind me, I went low and struck his leg with mine, using his fall to punch his chin with my right fist this time, being careful to use a controlled amount of force or else the nerve I hit will result to permanent brain injury and can be fatal.

I got up, swift in my actions as I saw the guy with a raised baseball bat heading towards me from my left flank, and the other one from the right, fast.

On reflex, I leaned back, the bat that was aimed at me hitting his comrade on the shoulder instead. Guy's lucky, actually. He would have suffered internal bleeding if it bashed the side of his skull.

Four down, two to go.

I took my stance once again to ready myself. This dude was a foot taller than me, with muscles packed with raw strength, but even so, pale in comparison to Tai'chi's p—

Stop thinking that! Focus!

"Smash her head Dan!" The man behind him yelled.

This 'Dan' went straight to me with his bat raised with intent once more.

Breathe in.

Everything slowed down. I let my heart rate decelerate, my hearing sharpened, my sense of smell heightening even further.

I closed my eyes, letting the rest of my senses take over. Years of practice, days of pain from training, each motion engraved to my entire body with purpose. To defend not only myself, but also those who are looked down upon, discriminated and stepped on like dirt. My parents had always taught me to defend myself. Me. Don't get me wrong, my parents are good people, albeit wary of the other races in our community. But the moment I left the roof of my home, I knew it was time for me to defend someone other than myself. I don't give a damn about where we come from or what kind of blood flows within our veins. I will protect those who need protecting, and set anyone straight and down to the ground when they deserve it.

Breathe out.

At the last few moments, with my eyes still shut, I changed my form. I followed his aura and pictured out the shape that was drawing up to land a serious blow to my head. Dan is solid and heavy, but everyone has at least one weakness. And this guy is not spared from that.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

I opened my right fist, right foot forward and relaxed my arms, my legs serving as a firm foundation for my upper body. With the bat inches away from me, I smoothly dodged to the side, using my palm to push away the hand holding the weapon and punched a vital pressure point right under his bicep.

I bent my legs even lower and struck the center of his ribs with my thumb, closing my hands as I jabbed his sciatic nerve on each side at the same time, both located in the middle line of the thigh between the groin and the knee. A solid blow to those nerve points will cause intense pain and shock to the person, along with a temporary immobility of the feet.

a/n: Self defense 101! Remember that dear readers♥

With the support of my left leg, I went behind the man, standing straight and proud. Calm, I opened my eyes when I heard his fall, staring right into the fearful ones of the moron that started all of this.

"Y-You- You killed them!"

Is he that dumb?

"Correction, I didn't. I knocked them unconscious is all. And the fellow that attacked me first? Well, he passed out from the pain of his now funny-looking arm." I stated flatly as I trudged to where he was standing.

"S-Stay away from me! Monster! Freak!" He stumbled, his ass on the ground and away from me until he felt a tree trunk on his back.

I scoffed and withdrew my knuckle dusters back under my baggy sleeve.

"You wanna know who the real monster is?" I stopped and held him in place with my scrutinizing gaze. He was trembling like a wimp at this point.

"It's you.

"You and your disgusting racist friends.

"You, along with all the people who view and treats anyone other than humankind as lowlifes and pests that are meant to be squished and eradicated from the society.

"No, it's you, and the ones who have the same mentality as you, who are monsters under the guise of a human."

I paused, not even blinking as I bore holes into his skull.

"I am human, down to every inch of my being. But unlike you, I respect and treat everyone, regardless of kind or gender, and to those who deserve it, fair and right."

Before I could continue, I scented new people coming into the scene. It was the teaching staff, along with the uni's guard.

Shocked of what they have seen, they turned towards me, angry, surprised, confused expressions on different faces.

"What have you done?!" A female, human instructor, looking to be around her late 20s shouted.

"Ma'am, if you would just let me explain—"

"You are hereby expelled from this institution, young lady!"

All the color of my skin left me as I heard the words I have dreaded even before I set foot in the campus grounds.

"Now let's not go straight to conclusions. We need to deal with this professionally AND properly Miss Holson. You are also not in authority to suspend this student." A heavily bearded dwarven professor, clad in a brown suit and Oxfords, told her off firmly.

"What are you saying Mr. Dulrik? Look at her! Look at this! She murdered students and oh my God, is that the dean's son?!"

For the love of— she blind? Why does everybody think I killed someone???

"Ma'am they are—" I was about to tell her but got cut off, again!

"Helpmehelpmehelpme!" He scrambled away from me and ran to the group of teachers and hugged the young instructor. "I don't know what came over her! She just attacked us out of nowhere!"

The audacity of this fucking bitch!

"Pardon me? Attacked you? YOU were the one who followed me out here! You and your" —I gestured to the bodies laying flat on the ground— " buddies over there!"

"She is lying! The orc was with her and and and—"

It dawned on me that I almost forgot about Tai'chi. My eyes widened, and I frantically scanned the area around for him. And there he was, standing by the oak tree, right where I told him not to move.

He seemed...irritated?

Oh no. At me?

"I have not moved an inch from where I am standing ever since I planted my feet here." He said with his deep baritone voice, turning to confront the staff. "What she's speaking is the truth. They were the ones who followed her here and attacked her, first."

"And how can we be sure you are telling the truth, orc?" Miss Holson replied spitefully.

Even the teacher, huh? Her odor smells like vomit. I mean, I knew she was...foul, but I thought it was because of the situation. Guess not.

Tai'chi did not respond. Instead, he moved to look at me in the eyes. His gaze, searching, but not in an awful way. Was he asking me what I'll do?

"How about we discuss this in the office, shall we?" An elderly professor spoke. She was wearing the university's formal teaching uniform together with black, flat, closed toe sandals. "And Miss Holson, please quiet down. As Mr. Dulrik said, we should not jump into baseless conclusions."

Miss Holson fumed and shut her mouth, holding the coward in her arms.

"Now then, Miss...?"

"Blackbell."

The woman paused. I caught a smell of surprise and... astonishment?

She cleared her throat "Well, then Miss Blackbell, please follow us to the Dean's office, along with your, companion."

Weird.

"Oh and Mr. Smith, kindly call for assistance and take the unconscious students to the infirmary to be treated and looked unto. Thank you." She told the guard. With that, she and the rest of the faculty started walking back.

I glanced at Tai'chi once more to find him, again, staring. I approached him warily, expecting him to be mad at me.

"Uh. Hi?"

I let out a long exhale when he replied, with a slight tug of his lips, his tusk jutting out. "Hi."

I fidgeted, trying to come up with words to explain myself.

"I uh, uhm. Are you mad?"

With his brow raised, "Why would I be?"

Yeah why would he be?

"I-I never told why I keep wearing my mask." I stuttered, "You see I—"

"You two! Start moving before I force you to." A teacher yelled at us from a distance.

"We'll talk later, Pearl. For now let's get this resolved first. I know for a fact that they won't expel you unless they ignore the ill intentions of the ones who attempted to harm you first. But better be safe than sorry, he was the dean's son afterall."

"Yeah... Thanks. We should.. go." I turned and started walking along his side.

******pov shift for a bit*******

Little did Pearl know, he was thinking about how...nice, yeah that's the word, definitely not sexy, you were when he witnessed your skills in combat. It awakened something in him that it took a lot of control not to get aroused there and then, which was the real reason why he stood there, unmoving from his place. Not once did he leave his eyes from you, almost jumping to help you when the guy with the baseball bat was closer than we would have liked. But oh no, he was not surprised, he was astonished and shookt , amazed when you pulled that last technique, sending the human plummeting to the ground almost soundlessly. And the way you stood right after, he knew he was smitten. That proud and intense aura you gave off was enough to make him bow down at your feet. He could feel it. He could smell it. That was his secret, he can scent people and catch any mood shift they make. Even though he told her that her eyes and brows gave it away, it was not entirely true as he could smell, literally, you and the changes on your scent.

Oh but little did he know you could to. Just not as observant as he is.

:>

*******************************

Wow— when I copy pasted the original thing from my notes to my drafts in Tumblr I was like "okay, so. I should read it AGAIN before I post it if I wanna avoid more unnoticed mistakes and keep editing it again and again even though I posted it already! " And I never though it would lead me to adding almost a half thousand words and a pov shift— which i found interesting and really nice! Should I do it more often? Like little inserts of what Tai'chi or another characters thoughts in second pov in between fics if necessary? It's just, nice, to put them in and write all out about what they were thinking outside of Pearl's pov! Let me know what you think and I hope you enjoyed reading❤

Tags: @kokokatsworld @crackinanutshell

[skelanonymous]

Song Prompt 2

I basically took this as “think on your mistakes, go forward, it’ll be okay”

@a-weird-tree

Words:4.2k

Song(s): It’s Alright - Mother Mother/Panic Room - Au/ra

Skeleton: Nightmare

-

“I’m here if you need me.” 

Nightmare wished the last words he’d heard didn’t have to be from Dream, even if it made a lot of poetic sense considering the task he was on.

The ashen landscape hadn’t changed in the millenia he’d been gone. Nothing different from the day he left, only a statue no longer standing by her side, even the grass dead and non-growing. Time had left this place, following his brother in its frozen state, though the life of this place hadn’t been returned like it had to Dream.

So many bodies. The lack of time had halted the rot, blood stained dirt muddy and thick near his sneakers. The gentle pull from his soul made him sigh before standing up straight to walk into the mass of buildings off east of the hill.

Walking over the uneven cobblestone (made by hand by an older stonesmith who’d been teaching his son at the time), his eye slid over the multiple empty homes. Shops with goods still lining the shelves, broken glass shattered across the wooden floorboards, countertops in disarray from the frantic fleeing they’d attempted, it fell on his chest like an anvil, breath stolen. He pushed past it to step around behind the counter.

He’d only needed to browse for a moment before finding what he was looking for. He grabbed it with his hands, gathering some provisions in a bag before heading back out to his new home.

From the top of the hill, the field expanded westward for a mile uninterrupted. That’s where he’d have to start.

With a blank face, he forced the shovel into the dirt and hauled out the first of many piles. He couldn’t do a full six feet with his hands, but three would give them rest. No animal could dig them out, all had long since gone, so that’d have to be enough.

The shovel was clumsy in his grasp. His hands ached with the work of it before even the first grave had been dug, not used to ignoring his tentacles, where his strength and power were most potent, but no. They had been laid low by his corruption. If he was to find any sense of recompense in the act, it had to be his own two hands by which he sent them to peace.

Shovelful by shovelful, the dirt to the side grew larger than the hole until the first was done. 

The first was going to be the hardest to get here.

When the idea had first occurred, it’d been before the truce. He had too much to do, his own corruption as valuable an ally in his fight as any of the others, perhaps moreso. Too much was left to fight for that required its defense.

He had brushed the idea aside completely until the truce had been first drafted. But the truce was fresh, easily broken with a word. Animosity did not dissolve within a fortnight, nor did camaraderie grow, even under the promise of fresh sunlight and clean water. He couldn’t send his best soldier home when war could break out at any second. As weary as it made him, he had carried this longer than he had existed at this point, five times more spent in this shadow than under the shade of his mother. The memories were faded and grey at the edges. He could live without them.

Days to weeks, months to years, all of his company had learned to move on. He’d held none back from their progress. The peace in their eyes made his own ache, but he wished them the best. The last had been Dust, his the hardest to truly relieve. Time truly could heal all wounds.

“I think I’m gunna go to Horror’s timeline...Now that’s the shortage is over, it’s pretty quiet there.” Dust had shuffled in the main hall. He looked so uncomfortable, Nightmare trying to pull his own aura back into himself.

“And Horror is there.” Nightmare took a step back, gesturing to the door with a kind bow. “You’ll do well with him. You suit each other.”

Dust blushed purple, eyelights flicking around, before resettling on Nightmare with sorrow in the lines of his face.

“You could come too.” He looked him in the face, desperate. “Being alone isn’t good for people bo-Nightmare.” Dust fiddled with his sleeves.

“I would impede your progress Dust. My part in your life has come to a conclusion, and I am at peace with that.” Nightmare hoped the smile was reassuring. Dust had fought against the psychosis, no sanity came as hard fought as Dust’s, he deserved the rest.  “I have always survived, you don’t have to worry about me.” 

“They ask me about you all the time, you know.” He inched closer to the door. A compromise. 

“And I ask you about them. We spent a long time together.” Nightmare hadn’t seen any of them since they left the castle. He knew his aura was poison to their progress, an ever present reminder of all they tried to move forward from. He missed them more than he could say. “But even now, you can’t help but call me boss. You have fewer nightmares when you sleep in other timelines. You can’t be here, and I can’t go there with you.”

“We would give up all our progress if it meant seeing you not stay here alone for the rest of your life.” Dust’s eyes watered. “We all wanted you to make it out of here. Being the last means that I failed too.”

“You didn’t fail.” Night wanted so badly to reassure him, but he was negativity, his touch would rob the little strength he had to leave. “I don’t know if I can be saved.”  The truth hurt to say. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. How does one unlearn all that you are?”

“You don’t have enough faith in yourself. Please.” Dust had held out his hand, the other on the door.

Nightmare knew if he reached out, Dust would turn to him and try to save him from himself. But no. Night pulled his hands to his chest.

“Go. He’s waiting for you.” Dust had left with a slammed door.

Then silence. 

Silence for months, nothing but dust and books for friends. He’d kept to his castle, afraid of even glancing at them from portals, of bringing as much misfortune as he had to wherever he touched.

The idea had come back to him on the anniversary of Dust’s departure. He’d sent out a small summon to his brother, who’d come the instant he’d been called, fearing the worst.

“Brother?!”

“I’m right here Dream. I’m not in peril.” He looked up from his book, seated on a bench. Nightmare took to reading in the courtyard most days. He’d gotten through every book once before, this was one of his favorites to reread. “Though I’m thankful for your haste if I was.”

“I mean, yeah! No one’s heard from you in a while. I was starting to think…”Dream shook his head. “So what do you need? Anything I can do to help.” He held out his golden glove to Night. He had taken it so hesitantly, his brother the only person who he couldn’t affect but unused to contact after so long.

“I have things to show you.”

He’d brought him through the castle. He led him to every magical artifact, the secret chambers that hid anything placed within them, and a copy of the key to his treasured library. His entire legacy, every tool, things that could not be replaced.

“I think that’s everything. I’m entrusting this knowledge to you Dream. It felt important you know. The others deserve to not be called upon.”

“I agree but why would I need to call them? It’s your castle. I can just ask you.” Dream looked him over with worried eyes. “Right?” Nightmare sighed.

“No.” He held up a hand before Dream could yell. “I am going to be away from the castle. I do not know for how long.”

“Doing what?! Because telling me about ALL of this means this is a long trip!” Night could see all of Blue’s influence in him, almost professionally assessing him to see what they could work through. He was eternally grateful to Blue for his services but not for the inquisition he’d face for this decision.

“It most likely will be very long.” Nightmare didn’t elaborate.

“What are you planning?” Dream grabbed his shoulders, full brotherly concern on display. Night smiled at him. Dream panicked harder. “Nightmare, please don’t do anything drastic. Everyone really cares about you.” Night chuckled but it didn’t reach his tired eyes.

“Unfortunately, drastic is the only way I know.” He flicked Dream on his crown, nose scrunched up with the twang. “I don’t plan on dying in some corner of the world. I’m not a wounded animal.” Nightmare held the trembling hands in front of him. “I just need to go find something.”

“Well let’s go look toge-”

“Alone.”

“Nightmare.” He pleaded with his eyes. “You’ve been alone for so long already. Who was the last person you saw besides me?”

“Dust.” He didn’t shy away from the shock.

“That was a YEAR ago.” Dream pulled him towards the nearest door. “You just need to-”

“Dream.” He’d never felt so tired. It’d been many moons since he’d pulled this card, he only hoped his brother would understand. “Daydream, please.”

The fight drained from Dream in an instant. His eyes softened to tears, so much younger in that moment than Nightmare had seen since he’d awoken from that statue. Nightmare wiped a few away, meeting his eyes with renewed effort, resigned but ready.

“I need this. You’re the only one I can trust with the multiverse. I need you to carry it for both of us. I’m sorry to set it upon your shoulders.”

And Dream, the kind person he was, didn’t hesitate.

“I can handle it Nighty.” He pulled him into a hug. “So you keep looking until you find what you need to. I’ve got stuff handled here, and plenty of help if I get a little overwhelmed. Just...come back.” He’d waved Nightmare off into his portal with a smile.

“I’m here if you need me.”

The first body was the last. She’d been young, the last child, protected at the expense of the adults around her at every turn. He couldn’t even recall her name now. He found her in the forest, picking up her broken body as carefully as he feasibly could using only his arms. He started the sad march towards the hole.

He laid her in the earth with dignity. He cleaned off her face, finding a dropped toy nearby that felt familiar when he saw it, which he tucked into her arms.

Nightmare reflected on her death.

“The last of those bastards. Any last words?!” She’d only screamed. He cut her down painfully, multiple stabs with sharpened corruption, watching her bleed out to satisfy his own need for vengeance, served a hundred times over before this last death. His body fought his revulsion but he let the feeling flow. He’d been despicable.

A flash of memory from that night. It was gone before he could catch it.

He waited another few moments before taking up the shovel again. He covered her as quietly as he’d dug the grave, slow painful work on his hands that he trudged forward through. After the last bit of dirt had settled, he found a stone and placed it at the head.

Then he walked to the right and started again.

Nightmare managed three graves by the time he could not continue. He’d gotten the two people he’d felled just before the girl. He grieved each, laying them to rest, stumbling and pained, but he wanted to do this the right way.

When he could no longer continue, he pulled an apple from the provisions he’d grabbed.

He put it back.

Nightmare made his home by the tree, laying by her stump. He’d spent so many nights here, but the stars didn’t jog his memory at all. Nothing remained of before, none of what mattered to him. His mother was dead, Dream off running the multiverse, he himself changed, what could he even recognize?

He didn’t recall drifting off, though the nightmares that played across his mind meant he had to have slept. 

Night grabbed a bit of bread, looked up at the unchanging sky, and got to work again.

For weeks, the same pattern: wake, eat, lay the villagers to rest, consider the apple, sleep restlessly. Night’s corruption claimed his mind first, and many lives after. He owed them all the proper burial they’d been denied for centuries now.

Each dream got more vivid. The first taste of corruption, the first few to fall, turning Dream to stone, it got clearer each day. It wasn’t doing wonders to his sanity. Part of him wondered if this was the best chance of recovery, or of losing it completely and killing either the multiverse or himself. When he couldn’t take it anymore, he’d walk to the river in the forest.

The sound of running water was louder than his thoughts in the silence of the universe. He walked along it with his hands in his pockets and would imagine the castle.

Who accompanied him changed each day. Killer smiled but often made jokes at his expense or that of the dead. Dust’s hallucination acted as his own, egging him on to find more to kill. Horror’s mentioned the feast lying around, endlessly held edible by the lack of passing time. 

Error only visited once, his silence drowning out the brook. Nightmare left early and didn’t finish a single grave.

On a particularly productive day (he’d gotten through five), Dream accompanied him, and that’s when he remembered something from long ago. His voice complained, but he still knew the words.

The old folk song travelled across the world. The villagers had taught them at first, but Nightmare had sung Dream to sleep so much, he looked into so many more songs. He serenaded his phantom Dream from his small walk and slept peacefully for a single night.

The next day, his voice acted on its own.

He hummed while digging. He sang to the dead as he moved them, as an eulogy after their entombment, and went back to humming when he filled them and moved to the next. The silence of the world invited many demons, the lilt of a song brought back warmth of the past he’d long since lost. He remembered telling the others he didn’t sing; whether it was a lie or he truly forgot, he didn’t know.

The amount of graves was starting to stretch out far from the tree stump. He’d been at this for months, and now, the dead left numbered in double digits.

As he reached the last thirty, he leaned back onto the tall stump and realized nothing had blocked him. His unused tentacles had unformed, not needed and no longer reflex. Night breathed a sigh of relief up at the steady sky. Maybe he had a chance after all.

That night, when he considered the apple, he managed to put it up to his mouth. Not bite into, but it was progress, like so much else.

The second to last day ended as usual at first. He’d begun to sing songs he’d heard in other universes, voice strong from use. His hands had gotten so much better at holding the metal handle. His arms had regained strength, and bit by bit, the color was finally starting to leak back into the sky. This universe was healing. It had waited for him to return.

He only had one grave left. The village elder, the first to fall, the leader of the attacks against him. Night had never known his name besides Elder. 

His vengeance should’ve started and ended with him. 

No, that wasn’t the way to think anymore. Night had become what they feared, even if it was at their insistence, and a restless afterlife and the death of all his kin falling on him was punishment enough. He dug into the earth, humming the village tune, when the phantom heckled from behind.

“How dare you sing our song when you forsook us, monster.” Nightmare didn’t rise to the bait. He was not so lost as to not know reality from his own manifestations of guilt.

“Your brother was always the better one. I bet you killed him too.” Purposefully wrong, trying to pull him into this argument, he kept digging. Nightmare knew better than he did then. Young Nightmare had risen to many challenges he needn't be bothered with, but age brings wisdom, his past self having no ability to act out of the script he’d been forced to follow. He finished the grave with a wipe of his forehead.

“What do you think this does? Do you think this makes up for what you took? Our lives are not returned with this worthless ceremony.”

“Nothing will make up for what I took. I can only hope to be better going forward and to give back all that I am able.” Nightmare moved the body, staring directly at the ground, avoiding the phantom’s glares. “This place can move forward, and maybe then I can begin to.”

“As long as you are a monster, your mind will never leave this place, beast.”

“On that, we agree.” Nightmare bowed to his grave before beginning to fill it, the final task of his penance here. “But it can’t be killed easily.” The elder’s phantom considered him, before speaking carefully.

“Things borne of ourselves are the hardest to kill. We often choose to remove outside influences over those within.” Nightmare was struck with the memory of attending the elder’s many sermons. He had been a teacher as well, often giving lessons to the population for free. “But I can see its vice grip on you has loosened. What have you brought to kill it?”

“Nothing but myself and an apple.”

“Then I pray it is enough.” Nightmare finished the grave, dropping the shovel down for the last time.

“Me too.” 

The final headstone set down, he turned towards the tree stump.

Nightmare did nothing in half measures. He’d come prepared to die here if he needed to. So much of the night of the corruption was lost to the sludge, memory melted away by the power, only the spark of his brother’s positivity clear as a direct opposition to his own. But this corruption was magic, and all magic had a counter, an equal and opposite. Much of spellcraft found counters in the reverse, but how does one reverse something as horrifying as that night?

It was crude, but he tried. Night had said goodbye to Dream. He buried the villagers in reverse of the order he’d killed them. Now, he reached into the bag.

One crisp apple. It only took one to be lost.

He took it with trembling hands. It was so easy to raise to his teeth, almost calling for him to bite into the succulent skin. He closed his eye and bit down.

The corruption was acrid in his mouth. It tasted of the poison it was, but its darker temptation of power had made him bite into it again, and again, and again, until nothing remained. Anything to stop the judgement, the finger pointing, the thrown rocks, never having a place except by Dream’s side, and Dream had so many places he could fit effortlessly.

His eye flicked up to his brother, standing just under the tree, full of now blackened apples, his mouth full of the sludge he’d become, a pang of sadness at the horror on Dream’s face.

“Remember me as I was.” Then he’d grabbed the second. By the sixth, the tentacles had come alive on his back, ready to maim that which came to attack, but when he turned around, he was back in the dead world alone. His mind still pulsed with the event as if he’d lived it only a moment ago, and he couldn’t waste this opportunity.

“RAHHHHHH!” His vision blurred on the grass, tentacles furious digging a hole where no bodies lay. His body felt full, stuffed with corruption like a balloon, singeing his nerves from everything that ran black, pouring from his face directly into the hole that now was the right size. With a moment of clarity, he shoved his fingers down his throat.

He wretched endlessly, thick black corruption pouring out of him in heaves, unable to catch his breath while it left his body. It pooled and filled the hole. So much corruption, in such excess of all the magic in Nightmare’s body, his arms shook trying to hold him up. His soul burned raw, so much being torn from his entire being that it threatened to destabilize. He collapsed on his side, still spewing the poison until he passed out, unable to continue.

-

He came to gasping. His hands leapt to his throat instantly to soothe the burn. It stung, but looking forward, there was no liquid in the hole he’d collapsed beside, though what was inside was worse.

One black apple, unassuming in the otherwise empty hole. Night almost didn’t touch it.

When he reached for it, his eyes caught his hand. Pure ivory, matching the ivory arm, visible with both of his eyes.

He was free.

That aided his hand. He grabbed the apple, unafraid. Nightmare would not make the same mistake twice.

A glance around revealed more color than he’d remember seeing in ages. Flecks of green among the grass, the sky bright with a sun he hadn’t seen in eons, and a breeze of wind from time returning after so long gone. The world freed from stone could move forward, and now so could he.

His first order of business was clothes, his own ruined many times over by now. His corruption had held the poor things together, but sleeping on rocks hadn’t been kind to the soft hoodie. 

Picking through the village felt less somber now. These items would wear away with time, and he could use them. He grabbed some boots, loose pants, a purple tunic, and a worn leather bag to wear over his shoulder. Inside, a few provisions, the black apple, and a few books for his collection amongst the village, he had refused to set foot here before now.

Where to go now? He was free from his corruption, but not from himself. Nightmare himself was still an entire project he’d have to work at.

Though with his corruption lifted, it felt invigorating to have a fate of his own again.

First order of business was probably Dream. He’d left him alone for a long time, though the strange flow of time had made him lose track of exactly how much. He pulled on his magic to generate a portal.

“Fuck!” He’d reset himself back to the start. Of course he had little to work with. He’d have to ask Dream for a lift home when he got there. After a quick straightening of his back, he stepped through to wherever Dream was. He’d pulled on their connection to form the portal instead of picking a place. He walked down some sort of hallway he didn’t recognize, reaching the end of it to turn towards the noise.

Lots of eyes on him, he’d walked into a party. Probably Blue’s based on the amount and varying universes of the guests. He waved awkwardly.

“Um, hi.” He heard something shatter.

“Nightmare?” From the crowd, his brother squeezed out, bolting straight for him. Nightmare held his arms open and braced for impact.

“Yes Dream.” He managed to stay standing at his brother’s hug, but only just. He squeezed him hard enough to crack his back. “Be careful, you’re the more powerful one now.”

“I don’t care about that!” He clung to him and sobbed openly, which was really soaking up Night’s tunic, but he owed him this, rubbing his back through the tears. “I was so w-worrieeeeeed!”

“Well now you can stop worrying.” Nightmare chuckled at his over emotional brother. Then he felt the hand on his back.

“Is that really you boss?” Horror’s deep baritone reverberated down through his hand, shaking Night’s more fragile form. He mentally forgave Dream’s reaction when he turned to look at him. His hand rose to rest on Horror’s cheek, tracing under his chin to get a good look at him as he used to. His own eyes watered for the first time in decades.

“You look so well Horror. I’m...so happy...to see you.” He cried through it, holding him tight to feel the now sturdy bones underneath. He missed his boys so much. He didn’t even flinch at the sudden touch to his back, hearing Dust’s soft murmurs.

“We’re happy to see you too Nightmare.”

His soul, full of this feeling of reunion and relief, let loose tension it no longer had to hold. The future held much trial and tribulation, but it held equal amounts of moments like this, bonding and joy over simple celebrations.

Nothing but his own future.

[byunbaekby]

One Day (PM 01:27)

Pairing: Reader x ex!Doyoung Summary: You’ve never been able to let Doyoung go. He remains in your heart though you can’t erase him, your memories that you can’t let go of. He lives in your books, though you try to ignore his presence. And now, he stands before you to remind you of that time you’ve lost. Word Count: 2.6k Author’s Note: Please enjoy this t h i n g that I wrote at one in the morning because Replay (PM 01:27) came on, and I’ve always loved that song. I’ve always felt like, although it’s kind of disco-y and upbeat, it had a deeper sadder meaning. So here is my word vomit, inspired by one of my favorite NCT 127 songs :)

-

Your break-up wasn’t supposed to be a break up.

Initially, it was just a break.

Fresh out of college with your undergrads, drowning in debt and lacking in love, you told your boyfriend of three years, Kim Doyoung, that you needed a break. You had simply grown apart, and needed time to reprocess your relationship. Being the understanding man you knew him to be, he obliged.

You had expected it to last a week or two, maybe a month. But Doyoung had packed his necessities from your shared apartment and, with a kiss on your forehead, left for Taeyong's place, promising to be back whenever you needed. But he never came back.

You didn’t really know what it was that kept you from calling him.

Perhaps it was that you were a writer. Your head in the clouds and your emotions always running wild, you constantly overthought every single detail of your relationship. You would keep telling yourself you needed more time away. That time grew from days, to weeks, to months, until it had been over a year since the last time Doyoung pressed his chapped lips to your skin in a chaste kiss.

Perhaps it was that Doyoung, as a law student, was far too emotionless and had no qualms giving you your infinite space, even as your relationship silently disintegrated. He respected your space, told you to reach out to him when you were ready. But you had never been ready.

Perhaps it was just that in your time apart, the love faded. You both came to realize this.

-

I can't move an inch, I’m still here. Afterimages of you dig into me like vibrations. At the end of the scene of longing that always circles my head. I heard a familiar sound.

It’s been two years since the last time you set foot on Korean soil.

After your break-up with Doyoung, after you came to terms with the fact that you would never collect the courage to pick up the phone and tell him that you made a mistake, you left your home for greener pastures. In other words, the States.

You had minored in English Literature anyways, and felt that you had a greater chance to kickstart your career in a different country. In some ways, perhaps you needed to get away as well. Get away from the craziness of Korea, from the reminders of Doyoung and the life you once shared together that was no longer attainable.

It’s all a lie, for your heart has been in the same place all this time.

Though it’s only been a mere three hours since you’ve stepped off the plane, your luggage tucked away in your hotel room somewhere negligible in your mind, you remember why you never wanted to return. If not for the release of your first Korean novel, you would have never come back.

Because Doyoung is everywhere.

You see him as you turn the corner, thinking you catch a glimpse of that ugly old car he had always insisted on keeping.

You feel him as you walk down the crowded street bustling with people in the afternoon, clutching your hand tightly to prevent losing you.

You taste him as you walk past a bar the two of you used to frequent, alcohol on his lips as you tugged him home with giggles on your’s.

And now, as you stand at a crosswalk surrounded by tens of commuting passerbyers, your hands tucked into the pockets of your Burberry trench coat, you hear him.

“Y/N?”

Except you turn and discover that he is real.

-

Between the passing people, your melody scatters. Just like then, we're facing each other.

“So… How have you been?”

He is first to break the awkward silence. Your hands, cold from both the air conditioning and your trembling nerves, clutch tighter at your cup of tea. You can see it now. Just four years ago, in the comfortable phase of your relationship, you sat with him in the same cafe, in that corner over there and helplessly in love.

Now he offers a tight-lipped smile to you.

“Fine.”

“Seems like you’re doing more than fine. I… I’ve seen your name on the news. And writer’s lists, your work is doing really well.” You would have never thought that he’d seen your writing. It was all in English, a language you didn’t remember him being too proficient in.

“I guess,” is your response. To anyone, you would have sounded indifferent, uninterested in a conversation with your ex.

A pregnant silence grows between you. Now, it is not Doyoung who is emotionless and stone-faced, but you. He had always been the rock in your relationship—you were infinitely falling apart in emotion and he was always putting you back together. Now, you are stone cold and he is reaching out to you.

“You still don’t drink coffee.” No, you don’t. You had always despised it.

“And you still drink your cafe latte with caramel drizzle.” This brings a soft smile to his face, as if amused by the fact that you could still recall such memories from your mind. What he doesn’t know is that you had spent almost three years away from him trying to banish these thoughts from your mind. You didn’t want to remember, yet he forever remained like an echo in your brain.  

“Yeah,” Doyoung starts. “Some things don’t change after all.” Oh, but they do. Everything has changed, except perhaps your preference in drinks.

Another silence.

He looks healthy. He doesn’t look like a man who had been blindsighted and left in the dark by his long term girlfriend and lover. His face is more defined, no longer softened by the image of youth. Shoulders broadened. Hair done. He dons a suit, pricey as you can recall the brand. But he’s still Doyoung, the man you had been in love with since you laid eyes on him at eighteen years old.

“I’m a lawyer now.” You hadn’t even thought to ask him about his whereabouts. How rude, you scold yourself.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Finished law school a year ago. I didn’t really want to but… Taeyong encouraged me to finish what I already started. I work at Jaehyun’s dad’s firm now.”

“Oh. That’s… nice.”

You wonder fleetingly if you sound uninterested, because you’re not. It’s quite the opposite.

You’re amazed.

Unable to prevent the river of memories that hit you, you relish in it instead. Doyoung hunched over his books for hours; Doyoung stressing over his law school applications, even though you had assured him multiple times that he would be accepted with flying colors; Doyoung always debating with you over the simplest topics, and you laughing to tell him that he’d make the perfect lawyer, always so argumentative. The only time he hadn’t argued was when you told him to leave.

Another silence, except this time, it is you who breaks it.

“I’m proud of you.”

A softness falls over Doyoung’s eyes which are typically always so guarded.

“Thank you.”

-

Old memories, frozen times. Songs we listened to together. You and I, it's clear like it was yesterday.

“You hate it!”

“No… I never said that, baby.” You stare at him with narrowed eyes and a pout on your lips. The two of you are sitting on your bed in your PJs, it is nearly two in the morning. In his hands, your boyfriend holds the first draft of your first short story.

Though he tries to keep a straight face for half a second, he soon bursts into laughter, tilting his head back. With an indignant grunt you snatch the papers from him.

“You’d be a horrible lawyer, you’ve got horrible resolve,” you frown, clutching the papers close to your chest with a pout.

“Baby,” he says, remnants of his laugh from earlier still present in his voice. “It’s not poorly written.” As he speaks, you tuck the papers into the drawer of your nightstand and instead tuck yourself into his arms. “It’s just cliche, I mean, her parents are dead from a drunk driving car accident? She falls in love with a boy after they get paired for a project together? This is K-drama central.”

“It was the best I could do,” you mumble into his chest as he pulls you close in bed, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Thank you for your best.” Even when he is making fun of you, you feel the sincerity in his words. He never means to hurt you; that is Doyoung. He is brash and serious, sometimes too serious to the point where you don’t know when he’s joking, but he never means to cause you any pain. “But I know you’ll be better one day. And one day, I’ll read every single one of your books. I promise, and you know I’m a lawful man!”

One day. One day with Doyoung, you can see it already. “Yeah, one day when you’re the top lawyer at the firm and I’m a famous author.” You grin, tearing from his chest to shoot him a bright smile. “People will pay you billions to have you protect them, and I’ll be picking out stars for my first movie… Song Joongki will do.” This brings a giggle from your throat.

He presses his lips to your forehead, a trademark of his.

“Sounds like a plan, love. One day.”

-

We were so perfect and it hasn’t faded. I want to turn back time.

Though the two of you are standing in the middle of the sidewalk, surrounded by a bustling crowd of people and noise which never seems to cease, the silence is overwhelming.

It’s the same silence that lingered between you for years following your “break,” because neither of you were willing to smash it. Smash the wall between you, one that had been erected without either of your knowledge. The two of you have changed, have grown, have become adults. Yet it seems you are still both afraid.

He walks you to the crosswalk that you had earlier met at. As you are waiting for the light to turn green to allow your journey across the street, Doyoung produces something from inside his suit jacket.

It is your book, the first with its phonetics written in Korean, your mother tongue. It had only been released yesterday.

“I just finished reading this, on my lunch break, when I saw you.”

Does he know? Does he know that it is your story? A story of love, of the love that never asked but never ended. A question mark on the end of a seven year long story, never to have an ending? A couple that falls in love, falls apart, and moves on. Life doesn’t have happy endings, after all.

“You read it?” “Of course. I promised I’d read all your books.” The thought makes your heart lurch, but rather than lean away from him, it reaches out to him.

“Thank you for today. I know it was sudden, but thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to have coffee with me.. Miss famous author.” You look up to him and he has a slight smile curving on his lips.

“Any time, Doie.” The name catches him off guard, but he tightens his lips and smiles. You mirror it.

Yet another silence grows and you almost wish you could live the rest of your lifetime without ever thinking, writing, or experiencing that word ever again.

The look that Doyoung has on his face is stoic. You want him to say it, you know he has something unsaid. It almost feels as though he has dug it from within him after three years. You know it. Say it, you want to urge him in your head.

“Have a good life, Y/N.” It is a goodbye, a final closing on your story which had been left open-ended for so many years. The thought makes you want to cry. Just hours ago you had stepped off the plane, thinking that you were perfectly content in this new life you had grown without Kim Doyoung. Now, the thought of living without him causes your heart to tighten painfully.

“You too, Doyoung.”

The light turns green. You turn your back to him.

Like Doyoung had done at your request a number of years ago, you walk away.

-

Our hearts that connected one by one. Our hearts that beat toward each other. In this moment, we want the same dream.

You’ve counted twenty steps when you can’t walk any further. Frantically you turn around, and search for his disappearing head in the crowd of people.

No, you can’t allow him to walk away. Not again.

“Doyoung!” You yell, but he can’t hear you. The silence is deafening.

Though the light on the crosswalk has now turned red, you sprint across. You cannot lose sight of him, you cannot allow yourself to lose him once again.

“Doyoung!” Please.

You have found him. He is walking, his eyes to the ground and your book in his hands. You have to find it—the courage, the voice within you to call out to him.

You love him.

“Kim Doyoung!” He stops. He’s heard you.

Doyoung stops in his tracks and turns over his shoulder, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. You were supposed to be gone, you were supposed to walk away on the crosswalk back to your hotel and out of his life once again. But no, you were standing here before him with panting breaths and tears in your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” There, you have said it. You are sorry for letting go. You are sorry for allowing your relationship to dissipate into thin air and nothingness. You are sorry for running away, and for never being able to say it until now. “I love you, I love you so much. I’ve never stopped loving you. I tried to ignore it and pretend I didn’t, and pretend that I didn’t care when you never came back from Taeyong’s. I pretended I didn’t care when I threw out the stuff you left behind, I pretended it didn’t hurt me when I stepped on that plane.” Your tears are free-falling now, and suddenly you feel Doyoung’s large hands on your cheeks, cupping them as your book falls to the ground. How foolish you must look, crying in the middle of the day in the midst of the city, but you don’t care.

“I pretended that I didn’t miss you, I pretended my heart didn’t do a thousand and one flips when you called my name today, I pretended that everything would be okay eventually if I kept ignoring the fact that I couldn’t live without you, because I thought it would be okay one day.”

One day.

“But I don’t want that day to come. That day where I can live without you. I want our one day. The one day where I’m happy and you’re happy and we can live out our dreams that we’ve planned since we were stupid kids in love in college. The one day where we can be okay again... Doyoung, I want you. I want your one day and the rest of your days.” Your voice catches in your throat. To be able to admit aloud verbally, to both him and yourself, it makes you cry even harder.

You hadn’t noticed until now that your tears were matched by his. God, you love him so much.

“Okay,” Doyoung manages, voice low as his shaky breath touches your lips. “Today.”

Cause I just want to be, I just want to be loved.