#the bad quality is intentional …. sounds fake but i did it with intention

[starscelly]

i’ll follow you until you love me…

or, miroharls set to paparazzi ft. harls interviews

[ask-thearchivists]

OOC: Do you have any voice claims for the Archivists? Would love to know how they sound like <3

I've mentioned this before on my main blog But I'm very bad at applying the voices of others to my characters, so I instead described it, with me only thinking of one voice actress as I described their voices, that being Cree Summer for Solari/The Curator. Will copy paste my answer from over there, onto this answer under a read more. This is all going to be more a description of the voices I imagine they have, rather than any specific actor/actress.

You know, I genuinely don’t. I’m always bad about this when it comes to my OCs. They just sound like me??? In my head?? But with the qualities I imagine their voices posses. Which is more like inventing a new voice instead of applying one that already exists. I may look into some VAs to throw some suggestions out there. I do have ideas for what they all sound like, though. Plus Satellite and Crescent’s voices have their gender-fucky qualities which make it even harder for me to think of someone.

Penumbra would have a sort of deep, rich, feminine voice. She has the vocal equivalent to dark chocolate for a voice. Black velvet. Smooth, clear, she enunciates and never uses contractions, so she would probably speak in a way that implies how ancient she really is to us. Her voice is grandiose and poised. Calculated, careful, with an undercurrent of being TENSE, like the strings of a violin being pulled taught to the point of snapping.

Crescent has a voice that you could easily read as being a man’s voice or a woman’s voice. Not in a “you can’t tell which” sort of way but in a “Oh this is (your first impression)” kind of way. Her voice should be light and playful, but it could dip into having a sort of allure when she’s trying to entice/manipulate people. Vocally he should sound friendly, there should be no malice visible on the surface, or even under the surface. The sincerity HAS to sound real, no matter how fake it is, because she’s just that good at what she does.

Satellite has more of a “You cannot decipher” sort of voice that isn’t masculine or feminine entirely and that’s exactly how they want it. Gender? Lost in the move fortunately. Their voice has a typically monotonous quality to it. They rarely express much emotion on their face, so their voice is similarly restrained (though this isn’t really intentional). They tend to speak in short, choppy sentences, so their cadence is typically more tense and even a bit off-putting. Their voice is slightly raspy and quiet. This is all not true when they have a meltdown and scream though. When they scream it sounds like it hurts.

Solari’s voice also has a rasp to it but it’s loud instead of quiet like Satellite’s. Their voice is BUILT for sarcasm, for deadpan, for being cold while sounding sunny. She has a more high-pitched voice than Penumbra, with a more girlish immaturity in the way she speaks, which is at great contrast to Penumbra. They are extremely good at making their voice have a sort of honey quality to it, sweet, sunny, but it sticks in your throat. She giggles and hisses, she smiles and says horrible things, BUT! She is actually, genuinely sincere. They have conviction. There is an integrity in their voice. I did actually think of a voice while writing this, and I think of Cree Summer. LOVE her voice.

[bemusedlybespectacled]

I admit, I didn't particularly like Izzy in season 1 lol. I think it's because I have a lot of experience with being at the mercy of someone Like That (in regards to how he treats the crew. Just generally an Angry Chihuahua of a person.) My abusive mother, my manager at my first job, ect... So far though, it looks like season 2 is going to turn my opinion around lol

Honestly, I didn't like him at first, either! I honestly don't think you're supposed to. He does a lot of really shitty things that we're not supposed to find sympathetic! There are several moments – Lucius turning the tables on Izzy in 1x05, Izzy getting smacked on the ass by Stede's sword and then losing the duel in 1x06, Izzy getting punched in the face in 1x09, Izzy almost getting thrown overboard in the mutiny in 1x09– that are definitely supposed to be a "yeah, get 'im!" thing, tonally. I like Izzy and I still have that "GET WRECKED, LOSER" feeling at certain scenes.

And Izzy plotting and scheming and being a dick and then failing anyway, usually in a ridiculous way for absurd reasons, is a good chunk of his humor (I have repeatedly compared him to Wile E. Coyote because it's basically the same joke). It's the same reason the crew discussing mutiny in the first episode is funny: the joke is in them NOT doing it, for inherently funny reasons ("but who will do the voices?").

Like, trying to murder your neighbor is not funny. Trying to murder your neighbor because he has a nicer lawn than you is funny. Trying and failing to murder your neighbor because you slipped on a patch of wet grass caused by you leaving your sprinkler on in an attempt to make your lawn nicer than his is fucking hilarious. And that’s Izzy’s plotline through most of Season 1: just him laying out series of rakes for Stede to step on and then repeatedly walking into them himself.

But I think it's important to distinguish him from those I would consider "true" villains of the series, like the Badmintons or the aristocrats. Almost no villains (outside of the aristocrats and possibly Nigel) are completely 100% without any sympathetic qualities whatsoever: Geraldo is clearly super into Jackie; Chauncey is trying to avenge what he thinks is the murder of his twin brother; Calico Jack (yes I consider him a villain don’t @ me) does/did have a genuine relationship with Ed, even if he’s being a duplicitous asshole to everyone else.

But we spend much more time with Izzy narratively than we do with any of them, in a way that shows us how he’s thinking and feeling. We get the voiceover in 1x06 (“I’m starting to suspect that Edward has no intention of taking Stede Bonnet’s life” over Stede and Ed’s love montage like NO SHIT?), but then immediately afterwards we have the bit where he’s talking to Fang and Ivan, and his evidence for The Plan still being on is… that Ed promised him. Literally just that. That’s a personal reason, not a logical one. We see him talking to Jackie in her bar, sounding exactly like someone who just got cheated on with some floozy. And there are multiple times the camera decides to stay in his face while he goes through five stages of grief: Ed giving up and deciding they’re doomed in 1x04, losing the duel in 1x06, and trying to get Ed to listen to him during Stede’s execution in 1x09.

Even in scenes where he’s being a huge dick, he’s an emotional dick? Obviously some of those emotions are shit like “evil glee” and “anger,” but they’re honest: we know what he looks like when he’s faking emotion and he is so, so bad at it (“BLACKBEARD IS JUST A LITTLE UNDER THE WEATHER”). He REALLY DOES know that Ed adores Stede: he’s just revealing that to manipulate him into continuing the fuckery. He REALLY DOES think becoming Depressed Musician Ed is “a fate worse than death”: he’s just saying so out loud to (in theory) snap Ed out of his funk. He REALLY IS happy when he thinks he got what he wanted and the old Ed is back: that’s why he reaches out to touch him like that.

And I’m just gonna say: I know the joke is Izzy being the human in a cast of Muppets, but “guy who already is VERY vocal and obvious about how he feels and sucks at being evil but in a funny way” is, IMHO, the exact kind of muppety personality that would make him fit right in with the crew.

We know this was on purpose: David Jenkins has repeatedly said that Izzy is supposed to be like Ed’s jilted spouse, and he wrote 1x09 and 1x10 with Con O’Neill’s audition in mind.

And now we know that this season is going to have even more Izzy. So I’m hopeful that this season is going to cement the groundwork the writers set in Season One.

[insanelyadd]

Hi! Hope you're having a good day/night. I was wondering if you have any voice claims for your archivists?

You know, I genuinely don't. I'm always bad about this when it comes to my OCs. They just sound like me??? In my head?? But with the qualities I imagine their voices posses. Which is more like inventing a new voice instead of applying one that already exists. I may look into some VAs to throw some suggestions out there. I do have ideas for what they all sound like, though. Plus Satellite and Crescent's voices have their gender-fucky qualities which make it even harder for me to think of someone.

Penumbra would have a sort of deep, rich, feminine voice. She has the vocal equivalent to dark chocolate for a voice. Black velvet. Smooth, clear, she enunciates and never uses contractions, so she would probably speak in a way that implies how ancient she really is to us. Her voice is grandiose and poised. Calculated, careful, with an undercurrent of being TENSE, like the strings of a violin being pulled taught to the point of snapping.

Crescent has a voice that you could easily read as being a man's voice or a woman's voice. Not in a "you can't tell which" sort of way but in a "Oh this is (your first impression)" kind of way. Her voice should be light and playful, but it could dip into having a sort of allure when she's trying to entice/manipulate people. Vocally he should sound friendly, there should be no malice visible on the surface, or even under the surface. The sincerity HAS to sound real, no matter how fake it is, because she's just that good at what she does.

Satellite has more of a "You cannot decipher" sort of voice that isn't masculine or feminine entirely and that's exactly how they want it. Gender? Lost in the move fortunately. Their voice has a typically monotonous quality to it. They rarely express much emotion on their face, so their voice is similarly restrained (though this isn't really intentional). They tend to speak in short, choppy sentences, so their cadence is typically more tense and even a bit off-putting. Their voice is slightly raspy and quiet. This is all not true when they have a meltdown and scream though. When they scream it sounds like it hurts.

Solari's voice also has a rasp to it but it's loud instead of quiet like Satellite's. Their voice is BUILT for sarcasm, for deadpan, for being cold while sounding sunny. She has a more high-pitched voice than Penumbra, with a more girlish immaturity in the way she speaks, which is at great contrast to Penumbra. They are extremely good at making their voice have a sort of honey quality to it, sweet, sunny, but it sticks in your throat. She giggles and hisses, she smiles and says horrible things, BUT! She is actually, genuinely sincere. They have conviction. There is an integrity in their voice. I did actually think of a voice while writing this, and I think of Cree Summer. LOVE her voice.

[thesketchyheartist]

04/24

Serial Experiments Lain (EP 1, 4, 7, 12)

I thought the show was interesting, but I don't know if I liked it. I was in a bad mood when I watched it, and I still am, so maybe I didn't see things right.

One thing I did noticed throughout the show were people's eyes. I don't know if it's artistic styling like if the animators/artist got lazy or intentional, but some eyes were very un-human. Lain's is a good example. Her pupils were super constricted and the lines that point towards or away from the pupils made her eyes seem fake, and not because it's a fiction, but it just made her seem unreal. Even in episode 1 before anything began, she did not look normal, but I guess that might have foreshadowed her origins.

The Wired scenes reminds me of 2000s movies that featured the Internet with the grainy screen qualities and the deep dramatic computer voices at the introduction scenes in each episode.

Also I wanted to point out that ominous shadow in Lain's neighborhood street. I thought it was ominous because it looked like a shadow from the houses or electric pole but the sahdign wasn't a dull grey but it had things in it that supposed to be either a void or a pool of dark things.

Anyway, I have no clue what went on in Lain's mind, but I know she's supposed to have traveled between the Wired and the real world. When she explains things, I don't know where or how she came up with the stuff. It almost sounds like she figured it out, but it didn't say how.

I am curious about what is said and found about the Wired. I know it basically refers to the Internet and its infinite possibilities. Even now we are still finding new ways to use it and open new avenues within the Internet for people to discover. But like computers, the Internet is a man-made construct. The things it cannot do are what we allow or have not found.

But that's the point of the Wired. It suggests that what people don't know already exists, you just need to find it. Instead of treating it as a manmade construct, it is an independent dimension that can only be accessed by devices (phones and computers, or the anime calls them Navis). And a Navi doesn't connect you to some location on your selected Internet. It connects you to your Wired self. Or at least for Lain, it did. I don't know what other people do since they are supposed to be "applications." Are they applications from the Wired that are opened as humans in the real world or the other way around?

I also don't know if it ever explained what the Knights were, or how the Wired or Lain is connected to the suicides, like the very first one at the beginning of the show.

I know the episode skipping probably skewed my opinion of the show, but I don't really have much of an opinion for this show. The confusion probably gives it complexity, but even in episode 12 I am still not sure what anything means.

-04/23/24

Last post of JPT3702. Thank you to everyone who reblogged my posts. I didn't give many mind-blowing posts, but I hope everyone enjoyed it regardless. I had a good time reblogging everyone else's posts and hearing other people's thoughts. Good luck with exams and have a good semester!

[glamourstories]

The family had gathered finally, quietly bickering amongst one another as they sat either side of the grandiose table. All of them had tried to sit as close as they could to the head of the table where sat Henri LeBlague.

He had lost some luster over the last couple of years, his face more gaunt, his skin more pockmarked as age had crept up on him. While his widely extended family argued loudly Henri occupied himself by swirling an olive on a cocktail stick around the rim of his martini glass.

He cleared his throat with a cough before gently tinging a fork on the side of the glass proving he still held power over the family as a silence washed over the table like the waves on sound. They all turned to look at him intently.

“I’m sure you are all aware of why I gathered you here today. It is of the matter of my will.”

To his left Leah, his eldest daughter, feigned acting surprised. Opposite her, her ex husband and Henri’s protégé William rolled his eyes. Henri ignored them both and carried on. “I will hear no objections, I’m sure there will be many. I have spent many an evening thinking long and hard how best to divvy up the estate and I am certain I have made the right decision for the future well-being of the estate and all its holdings.” There wasn’t a foot at the table that didn’t shift nervously, all expecting bad or terrible news that they had been cut out. They had all rumoured over the years but the day had finally come when Henri’s patience had run empty. “You will all listen as I will say this plainly and only once. So without further ado.”

Henri paused dramatically to take a swig of his martini. Putting the glass down he opened his mouth but no sound came out. He scratched at his throat as his eyes bulged in their sockets before he shook his arms wildly causing his chair to topple over backwards with him in it.

Leah leaned over to look at him. “Father, this isn’t funny.” She had long since grown tired of her fathers pranks. “Father? Daddy?”

A girl, one of Leah’s nieces who’s name she never bothered to remember was the first to stand up and rush to Henri’s side. She checked his pulse. “He’s… dead.”

The family all looked at one another. As usual, Leah was first to speak. “No he does this all the time, dearie.”

“He’s dead, Leah.” William asserted.

“Oh don’t be silly William, it was never your best quality.” She said dismissively.

Leah felt a hand gently touch the top of hers as she turned to look at her new husband, a man named Thomas, a kind soul if a bit weedy. “Darling… he’s dead.”

Leah glanced between her husband, her ex and her father. “Oh.”

True to form it didn’t take long for the accusations to start. “I bet she did it!” Yelled Peter, Leah’s least favourite younger brother. “I heard you saying you wish the ‘old bastard’ would just die already!”

It was hard to tell if she was genuinely offended, everything Leah did seemed so fake anyway. “I would never, if anything it was William!”

William immediately stood up, slamming his palms on the table. “What? Your father loved me. If anything he was ready to cut you out and give it all to me!”

Another grandchild scoffed. “Oh please, we all know he hated the way you ran the company. He only put up with you because of that contract you made him sign all those years ago when you married his daughter.”

“Blake!” The boy’s mother, another of Leah’s younger siblings, scolded him. Even though they were all thinking it. “Besides William is all bluster, he doesn’t have the spine. If anything he was poisoned so it had to have been…”

The room was in chaos, blame and slander flew every which way, often revealing more of their own schemes than genuine accusation. The first grandchild, the girl who had pronounced Henri dead, still sat shocked by his side. She was a young girl who’s name was Frankie and truth be told, she was far too nice to be a part of this family.

She had always enjoyed spending weekends with her grandad. Sure he could seem cruel, especially when he spoke of his family, but he was always sweet to her and her back to him. He had taught her to play chess, and taken her to plays. She felt tears well up in her eyes at the memories and what was now lost. The only tears in the whole room.

She wiped her face on her sleeve as she look at the table. She focussed on his glass. Then looked down at Henri’s throat, then back at the glass. “The olive is gone…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A simple, obvious premise, but I do enjoy the obvious.

A murder mystery, without a murderer. The victim just choked on a drink, but nobody believes it was an accident because of the victim’s importance.

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

6.12.24 Wednesday

3:15 am

Still,have windblow...

I feel jealous, still jealous on something... Things that I don't know,that I must know...

I feel really jealous... I feel jealous!

9:02 am

Still,have windblow...

Uncle DD and Aunt Karen didn't go out since yesterday... Kuya Bong( worker of Uncle DD ) is here again...

For Marah & Kuya Erning thanks for the back-up. 8 water container now, 200 pesoses.

9:14 am

Still,have windblow...

Strange that nana giving me that coffee given by Uncle DD... Why,not in the mug???

9:25 am

Still,have windblow...

This is not my ideal life... The casting are not good here... Can't give rightful assistance on me... I feel so low and there are people who are traitor who got all my friends and became fake friends and I can't get a new friends on the upper who can pull me up... Worst of all, I can't get a bf to assist me and if there is coming, it is strange that they are behaving differently...

For the windblow who got my bf's, what a thicked face to kick me out and I'm losing everyone....

Why, am I losing everyone?

2pm

Still,have windblow...

I will try to do live on youtube or wesing but the sound is not synching again .... I feel bitterish... I'm thinking of money and job....

Why,I can't get bf or someone that I like who can lift me... I feel jealous...

3:04 pm

Still,have windblow...

I feel bullshit... I really hate this Samsung phone someone can control my system here and I hate it so much...

I really wanna leave Cavite and I know I can't.. I feel bitter...

I feel self-pity here... I'm losing a friend and losing a group... I feel jealous if I'm just a 2nd choice or always on the next list that they did on intentional...

I hope my cousin white is not linking with other Filipino cousins coz I will feel jealous as well... I don't trust my other cousin's on Treyes and I hope they are not interfering on me coz I will feel jealous...Strange that I feel something...

Why, I can't get a bf for so long...

How can I pay my creditz? I need a money and job...

5:29 pm

I feel bitter why my cousin white got married...Bullshit!

In a way,I'm thinking this way... Coz of my bad family image.... Grrr... There is no lyrics words but caption only....Put some lyrics words here youtube... Listen to the words or lyrics...

7:20 pm

This Uncle Jun is commenting on the fake Astron rice cooker,the rice is not fully cooked. This Astron rice cooker is not quality....

This is an old issue that fucking fake Astron Rice Cooker of Coco Martin.

8 pm

Tomorrow I will do a "fried rice"... No,I'm not kidding if I have new angels here, you can read the issue of this fucking Astron Rice Cooker. If you will read all of my entries...

8:04 pm

I feel bitterish coz I was spoiled but I'm good at craft like cooking... I wanted branded stuff even in the kitchen angels...

I'm good at cooking it is just a hobby for me but I need quality stuff....I can't accept that matter that the rice is not fully-cooked.

8:34 pm

Still,have windblow...

Here in Ely's house asking a back-up for coffee and as I observe he trimmed his hair...

Bonding for few hours here... I'm so stressed-out in the house...

9:54 pm

Still,have windblow...

Scary people in Cebu... But I don't feel pretty at all, will I get a punch there???

This is a tagalog/ local news here in the Philippines...A man punched women coz they are pretty.

10:55 pm

Still, have windblow...

I will always love you Garret...

11:20 pm

Still,have windblow...

Uncle DD and Aunt Karen went out again... I just asked on Harvey ( sibling of Aunt Karen )if they have coffee and he gave me one sachet of "Kopiko". I just wanna check their character. Harvey is nice in a way...

I accidentally saw the eyes of Crysette Sotto suddenly rolled-up...

[uselessboss]

A Path We Walk Together(2/3)

Deep breaths.

He was undeniably nervous. It has been a while since he last went to an outing. Years in fact as the only one he ever went was his first, and last one as well.

They weren’t a bad group of people. They were nice, easygoing and had no ill intentions when they invited him to hang out. It was just them trying to be friendly.

The issue really relied entirely on him.

Things like smoking, drinking, frequenting bars until dawn while music blared in the background and dancing among strangers... It’s an interest he didn’t share with his peers.

They didn’t mock him or shame him for not sharing their interests but he could clearly tell how awkward he made everyone feel with his poorly unconcealed discomfort. He was always bad at faking things like that and it made him feel even worse the more they tried and the more he failed to connect with them.

“Wow look at that person, very eye catching don’t you think?”

“Do you have any type Wolf-boy?”

The topic of relationships, dating, and attraction to other people was something that came up quite a lot.

“I... Don’t think so”

“Nothing? Really? Or is it dating something you feel it’s not for you?”

“No, it’s not that. I don’t really have anything against it”

He didn’t dislike the idea of being in a relationship. To be drawn towards someone's qualities and being able to appreciate and cherish them sounded like a wonderful thing.

It wasn’t a problem of lack of interest, but more so his inability to do so in general. He didn’t know what he wanted from people or what kind of companionship he sought out.

He couldn’t stand the disconnection.

It was why he refused every single invitation later on. Because of the fear of messing up, of souring the mood and ruining everything for others. In the end he isolated himself.

He touched his reflection on the mirror.

Back then he always had a constant irritated look on his face, always frowning, terrribly uncomfortable and very hostile. The kind that kept everyone away.

Now his features looked softer, kinder, gentle.

Happier.

His life really took an unexpected turn ever since he met her.

Who would have thought that the person he had deigned as foul and immoral at first was the one to teach him the meaning of kindness and empathy? To be the one that seemed to understand and accept him the most?

His cellphone rang with a new message.

‘Meet us at this address, but don’t look up what it is, we want to see your reaction’ -Andrews sent.

Hunter chuckled at that.

Another unexpected surprise was how he and Andrews became good friends.

He didn’t think he would have got along with him either. Andrews was very extroverted, a “people’s person”, the type of person he usually had the least in common with.

It was another thing he had been very wrong about.

Despite his carefree and easy-going nature Andrews knew when to be serious. He was as much of a dedicated hard-worker as he was and very reliable, specially in social situations. It was impressive how Andrews had the ability to fill any silence, to make any conversation flow easily and make it work. He seriously looked up to the guy.

It was reassuring to have these two there for him and also why he agreed to their invitation. Because he knew that even if he somehow messed something up things would work out thanks to them.

He took another deep breath to steel himself and walked outside.

“A PaintBall Match?” Hunter blinked.

“Did it surprise you?” Andrews grinned, snapping a picture, no doubt finding his surprised face hilarious.

“We thought it would be a good way to starts things up, something that we three would be familiar with” Miller explained with a wink. “Althrough I might be a bit rusty with that”

“Ah that’s ok dear partner” Andrews grinned, mischiveous as he put an arm around Hunter in a complicity way. “Today me and Hunter are going to team up to take you down!”

“Wait. What?” Both Miller and Hunter spoke in unisson.

"Look, Miller would beat both of us in seconds if this was a “melee à trois”, so let’s make this a game of “catch” where we both try to get her”

“But... Wouldn’t that be unfair?”

“You are right” Andrews nods “We would need our entire unit to be fair, but I’m not paying for that so we have to make do with only the two of us”

Andrews might have said that as a joke, but at the same time it was very much not a joke.

He only saw small glimpses of it as they had to be more focused on the mission and danger at hand while on the field, but now that they were in an environment where she could go all out and he could take everything in properly he had to say...

Miller was indeed something else.

He had always wondered how his skills compared to hers but he was clearly beaten.

She was nimble, fast and so incredibly agile! He and Andrews came at her with everything they got (and Andrews was pretty skilled on his own too) but despite their best efforts she dodged everything they threw at her.

“Time’s up!”

“Awwww I thought we could pull it off” Andrews deflated. “Damn, you are way too strong partner, you make us look like peasants”

“What are you saying Andrews, you both are super strong” Miller took of her helmet, shaking her hair off. “It was pretty nice to see you go all out, no other human could match what you did in this match”

“Boooh you are trying to be nice”

“Well” Hunter cut, coughing. “Maybe we did it?”

He pointed at the side of Miller’s leg, where a small splatter of paint, barely a speckle stood among the black protection.

“Oh? I’m pretty sure I evaded all hits. How this thing ended up here?” Miller looked at it with interest.

“The paint must have bounced off on one of the walls” he explained. “If this was a real shot you could say... It was a ricocheted shot...?”

Hunter felt himself flush.

That was a very sad and lame attempt at doing a witty remark. 

He was so embarrassingly bad at making jokes and quips.

“Andrews, wasn’t Hunter that landed the shot?” Miller grinned, amused.

“Hey, I played an important part on this feat!”

“Which is?”

“I distracted you! Being a live bait is a tough job you know?”

Their laughs echoed in the air.

Hunter didn’t remember the last time he laughed so much, or had this much fun.

He always worked hard and put a lot of thought and efffort in everything he did. If he ever attempted to better his results then it was more out of sense of trying to improve himself than anything. He wasn’t really competitive and didn’t care much to compare himself with others in a contest of pride.

This was the first time he felt like showing off.

“My Fucking God you two are merciless” Andrews dramatically cumpled on the chair.

The results were him in first place, Miller in second and Andrews in third.

“You two are not human” Andrews whined, “You make me look like an out of shape middle aged man having a mid-life crisis!”

“That’s... Oddly specific and descriptive Andrews”

“Ok, ok, time out you two” Andrews pouted. “This is my turn to rig the game in my favor, I’m picking what we do next”

“Andrews you don’t need to say the last part out loud”

“It’s a giant chess! Cool right?” Andrews smiled smugly. “I can’t even dream to beat you two in any physical activities so a battle of wits it is!”

“Are you calling us dumb dear partner?” Miller feigned mock offense.

“Nah, I’m calling myself smarter. And more cunning” Andrews jabbed back.

“So, who are you going to battle first?”

“Well, a certain SOMEONE gave me the ass beating of my life so maybe him?” Andrews zeroed on him. “C’mmon Hunter, this is payback”

Andrews was up to something.

He noticed as soon as Andrews insisted on him picking the white pieces, refusing to eat his peon piece or killing his queen at every chance he had.

He decided to play along, curious to see where he was going with that.

“My peon reached your base, so it can be promoted now” Hunter announced, placing the piece on the other side.

“Oh boy whatever should we do? You still have a queen piece so we don’t have a spare queen to use!” Andrews dramatically placed his hand on his head, really milking it, sighing very loudly. “Unless...!”

He gives a mischiveous smile as he walks right where Miller was sitting watching their match and offers her his hand.

Miller giggles with humor as she takes Andrews’ hand and allows herself to be lead to the spot where he had placed the peon, carefully nudging the piece aside.

“There we go! Miller can be “your queen” Hunter” Andrews grinned teasingly as he wriggled his eyebrows.

“I’m waiting for your orders your Highness” Miller also teased, making a mock bow in his direction.

“Y-You two are shameless! How can you make such an embarrassing joke with a straight face?!” He felt himself flush a deep red, his heart beating so fast to the point of making him think it would jump out of his chest at any moment.

Somehow Andrews still beat him in that match.

The results didn't surprise him, after all it had been quite difficult to pay attention to what was going on in that match.

After all, having to direct Miller to where she should go by taking her hand and leading her around was VERY distracting.

...Through maybe he was being a sore loser because Andrews beat both of them fair and square in subsequent matches. He did really have the smarts and skills to back up his earlier trash talk.

 “HECK YEAH THE FIRST WIN OF THE DAY!” Andrews cheered. “Finally First Place of the day Baby!”

“Congratulations” Hunter chuckled. “And I guess that’s the first time I ended up in last place as well. I had no idea you were this good at playing chess Miller, were you secretely training for it?”

“I guess it's thanks to Johannes” Hunter felt his insides get frosty at the mention of that name. “Sometimes, during our spare time, we would play chess together and he would teach me a lot about the game”

Miller’s smile was fond.

He felt an ugly and unbecoming feeling stir inside of him.

“Welllllllll folks it’s almost lunch time so how about we follow up with our plans for it and guarantee a nice spot for our picnic?” Andrews thankfully diverts the situation, something he feels very grateful for. “Let’s make haste so it won’t get super crowded shall we?”

Hunter dropped his shoulders, sighing heavely as he entered his car, laying his head on the steering wheel as he tried to calm himself down once again.

 He should have been happy for her.

She wasn’t flinching or in pain whenever she mentioned that man’s name anymore. It should be a good thing she can smile again, because that would mean she moved on from what happened.

“It’s none of my business if she decided to forgive him. That’s her choice to make, not mine” he berates himself. “...Besides, It would be a hypocrisy from my part when Miller also forgave me for everything I did as well”

He tried to tell that to himself over and over but it was no use. That foul and putrid feeling that festered inside him didn’t go away. The more he learned about their relationship, about how close they were, the more nauseous he felt.

Miller had moved the skies and earth for Johannes’ sake.

He had heard the stories. About how she had mobilized her entire unit to save his life and how she got the the person who conspired to harm him to be fired from his job. It always seemed like nothing could get under her skin and yet she completely lost her cool and got into a murderous rage because he was hurt.

When he and Miller stopped their daily routine of checking documents together he felt... Empty inside. He didn’t have any good reason or excuse to be around her anymore and it made his heart ache with longing. He sorely missed her warmth and companionship.

That was why he started to wait for her at the cafeteria and common room. To spend more time with her, even if only a few minutes more.

But she barely if ever frequented those places.

People told him that she constantly spent time together with Johannes, discussing plans, overseeing past reports or talking about improvements to be made for the sake of their team.

It was because he was her second in command, it was for the sake of work.

That’s what he thought at the time, or what he chose to believe it was, but...

‘during our spare time, we would play chess together’

Miller... She didn’t spend time with him exclusively for the sake of her job or out of obligation. She did it because that was something she genuinely wanted and enjoyed doing too.

It was frustrating how he had to struggle so hard to be allowed to have a bit of her time while Johannes had the monopoly of her attention.

It was easy to see that he was undoubtedly the most important person to her. It was so painfully obvious to everyone.

Everyone except that guy.

That day, despite them being still at odds because of their first disagreement ever she didn’t doubt his loyalty even once. Her wholeheartedly trust was not shaken at all, she still unconditionally believed in him.

Even the whole thing that lead to their disagreement in the first place happened because Miller was only thinking about his wellbeing. Even if she had went about it the wrong way there was no denying that it came from a place of care. She valued him so much that she was willing to put her own feelings and needs aside to prioritize what she perceived as his.

That day had been the first time he saw her tears. The first time she crumbled apart.

Maybe that was why the thought of that guy still mattering to her bothered him so much.

How ungrateful and selfish one could be?

How many of her precious memories and feelings were treated like worthless trash?

“... Sorry for taking so long, I hope I didn’t make you two wait for too long” Hunter apologized.

“Don’t worry about it” Andrews waved it of.

“Let’s dig in! I can’t wait to have a taste of your guys’ cooking!” Miller chirped, clearly excited.

“Damn Hunter you can really cook!” Andrews nodded in appreciation as he chewed the food with gusto. “Miller too, which is honestly the biggest surprise here, what with her screwed tastebuds”

“Andrews, the only thing I dislike are sweets, everything else is fine”

“Your food is also pretty good” Hunter nods back. “There are some pretty elaborate things here”

“Well, it’s only because you two were eating my food” Andrews shrugged. “Usually I don’t really bother, I just scrap whatever isn’t spoiled to eat”

“...Are you sure? Because that didn’t sound like a joke”

“Andrews your eating habits worry me a bit, I don’t think I saw you eating properly recently”

“Yes mom number 1 and mom number 2 I’m eating my veggies properly” Andrews rolls his eyes. “Also, you are one to talk dear partner, wasn’t Hunter feeding you his homecooked meals because you kept overworking yourself and skipping lunch?”

“W-Well, that’s...”

“See?” Andrew smiles smugly. “Althrough I bet that you two enjoyed the hand feeding, how scandal-mahwhahsh”

He shoved a mouthful of food inside Andrews’ mouth before he could spout any more embarrassing stuff.

“... Before we go I think I will need to use the bathroom. Could you two wait for me?” Miller announced after they finished eating everything and wrapped things up.

“Sure, go ahead Miller”

“Thanks!”

They watched as Miller disapperead in the crowd.

"So... How are you feeling now Hunter?” Andrews asked as soon Miller was out sights.

“Better. Thanks for the save back then. I hope I didn’t ruin things with my sudden sour mood”

“Nah, I understand.” Andrews shook his head. “Sometimes I also feel like that”

Andrews trully was something else.

His charisma was the real deal. It was what allowed him to diffuse any situation, no matter how awkward it was and to convince others to follow his lead and heed his words.

It was thanks to him that their unit got closer with each other and to Miller.

They were her unit, the people she handpicked herself, the ones that spent enough time with her to see past the rumors and understand her true good nature. Despite what Miller belived this wasn’t the main reason to why they felt discouraged to get closer to her.

Miller felt, for the longest time, unapproachable.

Even to him she felt like she was way out of his league. She was strong, composed and never seemed to need to rely on anyone but herself. She never showed weakness, never allowed herself to be vulnerable, always taking care of everyone but not allowing the same to herself. She didn’t allow anyone in.

Andrews changed their view on her. He showed everyone what the true Miller was behind the facade she had forced on herself.

Someone who laughs like them, someone who bleeds, someone who gets angry, someone that wanted to get close to them but was equally too awkward and unsure to know how to go about it.

Honestly it was no wonder why Miller seemed to regard him so highly. Not only because he was her old partner but also because he got her. He understood her needs better than anyone else.

“I wish I was like you”. Hunter voices his thoughts. “I wish I was able to support others like you do”

“You could be”

He snaps his head back at Andrews in surprise.

“I wasn’t like this from the start” Andrews smiles. “I was more like an anti-social loser who held a a grudge against the world because of the way I was mistreated by some rotten apples and because people wanted to forcibly change me to fit their standards”

Althrough the context might have differed Hunter felt he could relate to the experience. About people having their own ideal image of what he should be, getting disappointed and offended by said image not fitting their expectations and treating their real selves as something “wrong”.

“Then I met my dear partner, Miller” Andrews’ voice goes soft. “The circumstances of our first meeting were far from ideal. I was a very uncooperative asshole. Even told her point blank that I was only willing to do the bare minimum, and you know what she said?”

He chucked at the memory.

“That’s a surprising amount of leeway you are giving me”

“That sounds like her” Hunter smiled, recalling his own first meeting with Miller and how she had equally blindsided him with her unexpected answer of calling him a “good man” after a rough start.

“Miller never once tried to intrude on my boundaries. What I wanted to share about myself was enough to make her happy”. Andrews recalls the happy days spent together. “She... Always saw everything with a sense of wonder, cherishing every single moment like it a precious treasure and wanting to understand everything you showed her. She had a way to make the world around you seem far more interesting and better than you thought”

A kinder world. Where it existed someone that not only would accept you but also validate your existence, telling you that there was nothing wrong with being yourself and you could make someone happy like that.

“I started searching for ways to spend time together on our days off, to be more fun to be around, to be less moody and more appreciative. I wanted to share more things with her, good times”. She was really a wonder of a person, someone you would be lucky to meet in a lifetime. He was forever thankful that he was fortunate enough to have her in his life. “She really changed me. Where others had failed to do so, Miller had succeed without even trying and you know why right?”

“Because she never asked anything out of you”

“Yes. She never asked me to be anything but myself. Everything I did was out my own volition. I became a better person, but not a “different person” if that makes any sense”. Andrews nods. “If I smile, if I laugh it’s not because I want to humor her or anyone else, it’s because I really mean it”

He pats his shoulder.

“You might not think so because you still have some things you want to figure out but I think you are doing fine yourself Hunter. You’re a good person. You helped us a lot you know? Both Mille and me”

It made him happy to hear that.

He already considered Andrews his friend but it was still nice to know that he also thought of him as one as well. It seriously touched him.

“Hunter you don’t have worry so much about what we will think you know? Both me and Miller are also trying to figure this thing out as much as you are so take as much time as you need to find your pace”

“Figuring things out... Huh?”

“Hey everyone, I’m back! Sorry for taking so long, it was super crowded” Miller returns before she stops to stare at him.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No. I don’t think so” she shakes her head, smiling in an enigmatic way. “Are you having fun so far Hunter?”

“Yes. I really am”

“If you aren't too tired would you like to hang out a bit more with us?”

Hunter looked at their faces.

They were both smiling at him.

“Yes, I would really like that”

[babyitsfallin]

i'm setting off, but not without my muse | chan

pairing: bang chan/reader

word count: 1.4k

genre: romance, fluff

warnings: none! just some nice cuddling and words of reassurance

summary: chan works too much, you think he should take some time for himself.

Chan is a workaholic.

It’s not a quality that particularly goes under the radar by really anyone; not his groupmates, not his fellow staff, his family, him, but more importantly: you. There are at least four different cans of Monster littered across his desk, the lights dim in the small, confined space. His monitor hangs above him while he works, eyes darting from screen to screen while he clicks into different sections of the song he’s working on. A lazy bass pours out of the speakers as he clicks and drags it, pulling a distorted cymbal sound on top of it until he’s satisfied.

You like watching him work. He’s intent and focused, quite frankly it’s a little sexy, but mostly it’s relaxing. You get to sit and lounge, reading or playing on your phone or working on your own stuff while he does his. It’s a type of togetherness and closeness that’s comfortable, you don’t feel the need to talk or really say much of anything; just being in one another’s presence is enough. Plus, it’s pretty fascinating in the times you do pay attention to what he’s doing. He tends to do things without realizing, muttering under his breath, a mix between Korean and his thick Australian accent, for example. Sometimes he groans, pouting at himself for not getting the result he wants until he sighs and gets back to it. You usually don’t interfere, it’s part of his process. It’s not until he’s doing it in a timespan you deem a little too short for him to be doing it that often that you suggest a break, and he’s forced to sigh and agree with you.

“What do you think of this?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. Your Twitter feed shines on your laptop next to you on the couch, long forgotten in favor of admiring your talented boyfriend. He clicks play, and the instrumental he’s been working on practically bounces off of the walls. It’s slower than the usual song the boys use, something more adjacent to the song he and Hyunjin worked on, but not quite as sexy. A cool electric guitar curls in a few seconds into the intro and you smile, nodding along with the beat. It’s good, no it’s better than good.

“I think it sounds like a new single,” you praise, letting yourself fall into the sound as it envelops you. “What’s the topic for the song, anyways?”

“Dunno, Felix is actually supposed to be set to write this time, they really liked some of what he did on Surfin’,” he replies, and he dons that sweet, adoring smile whenever he talks about Felix, warm and caring. “But he wanted me to produce the instrumental for it, we’re supposed to discuss how it’ll all sound with the lyrics sometime this week.”

“Wow, you sound so professional,” you tease, and Chan rolls his eyes playfully as he turns the track down, swiveling his chair to look at you. “I’m excited to hear it, though. I can’t believe he gets to write his first full, real song.”

“I know right?” Chan smiles. “I’m so proud of him. Hey, maybe you can be in when he records it, give some thoughts, yeah?”

“Wow, what an honor,” you intertwine your fingers together, and place your chin on top of them. “Of course I can.”

“Ah, perfect,” Chan stretches his arms above his head, the edges of his cut shirt revealing his sides as a yawn finally escapes him while the track runs to the end. It isn’t until then that you realize it’s well past any decent time to sleep, flicking your eyes to your laptop to see the clear 5:38 AM right in the corner. Oops.

“We should get some sleep,” you suggest, and you catch Chan closing his eyes for a second, narrowing your own at him.

“Mmm, soon, I just need to –”

“Babe,” you put a touch of an edge in your voice, more of a warning than anything, and he purses his lips at you. “It’s almost six in the morning. The track can wait for finishing touches, it’s not going to run away,” you tease.

“But –”

“C’mere,” you close your laptop, placing it onto the floor as you scoot over, patting the spot next to you on the couch as he eyes it. He stands up, and you hear a light pop in his knees as he makes his way to you. He settles in next to you, wrapping his arms around your middle, as he buries his face into your neck.

He’ll never admit it, you think, but he needs the break. He’s always doing something, writing or producing or giving an interview or learning choreography or taking care of the other members. He doesn’t mind, you know that, but Chan’s always been one to overextend himself. He always gives so much of himself to others, you included, and has a tendency to forget himself. You catch a glimpse of his eyebags, deep and heavy from the corner of your eye and it has you bringing a hand to curl in his hair as he properly relaxes into you.

“You shouldn’t work yourself so hard,” you mumble, letting your nails scratch lightly at his scalp. He gives a sound of appreciation and squeezes you tighter.

“I know,” he whispers into your neck, and it tickles just a touch.

“I’m serious,” you keep your voice low. You don’t want to yell at him, but more so…to remind him. Chan’s always taking care of others, watching over them and making sure they’re taken care of. You think it’s time someone was there to take care of him for once. “You shouldn’t worry about being up into the morning hours to just work on something. It’s not good for you.”

He stays silent, his hand rubbing circles into your shirt, like he’s contemplating your words, actually taking them to heart. His breath is soft and warm against your skin, and despite the conversation, it’s a comforting feeling to be surrounded by him, held by him.

“Okay,” he says, and he shifts, resting his chin against your shoulder to look at you. “…I’ll ask for some time off. It’s been a while, anyway. We could all use it.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he smiles, and he presses a kiss against your shoulder. “Let’s take a trip somewhere, just the two of us.”

“…Really?” you ask again, and he laughs, bright and like honey, your favorite sound in the world.

“Yes, really,” he grins, teasing tone in his voice, a light giggle mixed in. “Feels like the only time alone we get is in here, you deserve romance! A picnic and a night sky!”

“I like watching you work,” you insist. “It’s nice, and relaxing.”

“Did you not just tell me I work too much?” he grins, and you narrow your eyes at him good naturedly.

“You do,” you say, and move to kiss the tip of his nose, earning a sound that crosses between a giggle and fake disgust. “I’m just saying don’t feel bad that this it the time we have to spend together. It’s not a punishment to watch you create masterpieces.”

“I’m so glad you think Cheese is a masterpiece.”

“It is, you helped make it,” you grin, and he returns it, letting his eyes slide shut. “It doesn’t matter where we are, or what we’re doing, I’m just glad I get to be with you doing it. But,” you pause, and he lifts his brows in wait, keeping his eyes shut. “ I do want us to feed each other and be totally gross while you point out constellations.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to give you exactly what you want, huh?” he hums.

“I guess you will.”

He smiles in response, and you start to feel the evening out of his breath, a whispered, groggy “I love you,” before sleep finally pulls him in, rested against you, his arms loose around your waist now as he leans into you. You rest your cheek onto the top of his head, letting your own lids slide shut, cuddling in next to him.

It’s not the most ideal sleeping arrangement, you know you’d both be more comfortable sleeping laying down, even in the tiny bed back at his dorm, but having him draped all over you, finally getting the rest that’d been pulling at him for ages, well, the ideals could always be saved for later. Right now you had your boy, and a sweet promise of something even more exciting later; what more could you ask for.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Dude socks was so domestic and cute and comforting I might cry!! Can I request a sirius black imagine where the reader is like a confident and fun/sarcastic person that is friends with the marauders and has a playful flirty relationship with sirius. They both like each other but the reader is kind of scared of commitment so they always take a step back whenever sirius takes a step forward and sirius finally corners them about it and finds out its readers insecurities and all ends well? Thanks!

She's not afraid [S.B]

Sirius Black x Reader

Word counts: 4.8k

A/N: This was a very entertaining request and it took a while because every day I feel like I'm going to pass out from nausea haha. But writing is super relaxing for me.

I was hoping it would be shorter and now I feel like something was missing, but I hope you like it. Especially you, nonny!

And thanks for your nice comment, I'm glad you liked "socks"

(The title refers to the song of one direction because it reminded me a lot of its lyrics)

"If you had to choose between a chocolate-flavored shit and a shit-flavored chocolate, what would you choose?" he murmured, his voice echoing through the room.

You and your friends were in the common room in the so-called “study group” that Remus had insisted on creating for the Defense Against the Dark Arts class and ended up with topics from the other subjects. It was true that everyone fulfilled the boy's whims, because none had the heart to say no to something (which he often took advantage of) and now every afternoon you met to read some documents, comment on your doubts and practice spells and even potions.

But if anyone couldn't take things seriously, he was Sirius.

The only thing that kept it there was his love for Moony and also the opportunity to watch you study for a full hour. Or watch you do anything, to be honest.

Everyone frowned at Sirius' question, not understanding the nature of it. James, who was the only one who could listen to him, was busy analyzing a herbology book in detail. And by analyzing I mean sleeping on top of it.

“The chocolate-flavored shit, of course. What good would it do you to have chocolate if it tastes awful?" you answered seriously. Suddenly all eyes in the room were on you and most of them seemed half disgusted half confused. "What? Sirius asked" you said shrugging your shoulders and pointing at him with an open palm. The young man grinned widely and you returned the same smile, both of you holding back the urge to laugh.

"I can always trust you, pretty," he said happily. "And now that I think about it, you're very far from me, don't you think? Let me get closer” he murmured determinedly, getting up from his seat with a book in hand and all the intention of placing himself in the same armchair as you. But halfway there an arm stopped him abruptly.

"Go back to your seat," Remus demanded, not looking away from his book. Sirius complained.

"Why?" he said indignantly. You turned your gaze to the notes you were analyzing, but the smile on your mouth didn't fade and Sirius noticed.

“Because having the two of you together is having a time bomb. Go back to your seat,” he murmured just as seriously. Sirius watched him and in the middle of his tantrum he wrinkled his whole face trying to imitate Remus "I can see you Sirius"

"Since you've been a prefect, you have become unbearable," he muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," he replied like a little boy, dropping on the couch and taking the book from him again in the middle of a snort. You watched him with amusement and he stared back at you, so you mouthed ‘Better luck next time as he looked back at his notes. You felt Sirius's gaze, it was not something easy to ignore, but you tried not to stop yourself from the spirit from passing all the subjects that had suddenly invaded you.

When you couldn't take it anymore you looked up and again mouthed ‘What?’ Trying not to get caught by Remus. Sirius sneakily pointed to a scroll and his quill and you knew what it was all about.

Turns out that Sirius was extremely smart when he put his mind to it and he himself had enchanted a couple of scrolls that only you and he knew about. When you wrote in one, it was reflected in the other and when you finished whatever you were writing this was erased. At first you had not believed him because doing that involved very advanced magic and Sirius was not the archetype of an exemplary student to do that. But once you tried them you realized that you had indeed underestimated the boy and the curiosity to know the most intelligent and creative part of him invaded you. I mean, he was when it came to the pranks but you never imagined a Sirius smart underneath the idler you knew.

Y/N, can I ask you a very personal question? he wrote it. You tried not to sound too concerned and replied:

You can do it, but I can decide not to answer it. It turned out that Sirius was really weird lately and you were worried about what he might say, but usually it was pure nonsense.

The scroll went blank and you waited a few seconds for Sirius's pretty handwriting to appear. You tried not to look at him too much because you knew beforehand that he would get a scolding from Mr. Lupin.

Are you a dementor? he wrote.

You frowned at the words, searching for some logical explanation for his absurd question. Obviously you weren't. Sirius, seeing your confused face, supported a giggle and wrote again.

Because you take my breath away.

You read the words, going over one by one, and couldn't bear the urge to look at Sirius over your glasses with that annoyed look that you liked to fake so he wouldn't notice that you actually liked his scoundrel flirtations.

That was horrible, Sirius.

I made you blush so I don't think it was that bad.

Of course I didn't do that.

Of course you did. He wrote. And you didn't want to look at him because you knew you would just agree with him and blush even more. You look beautiful when you do that, he added. You bit your lip and looked at the parchment for a few seconds just before writing on it.

Stop saying such things to me, Sirius.

What do you say? What do I continue to say to you my best compliments and flattering your qualities? Perfect.

You stifled a laugh and shook it softly, keeping that smile that Sirius loved to observe.

You considered him a wonderful, handsome and kind boy, who was always looking for a way to make you laugh. The spark between you was something that everyone could perceive, including yourself.

I need to study, Sirius. Goodbye. You wrote and that ended your little talk.

For the rest of the hour all your attention was focused on the topics you were studying: Aconite (also known as monkshood or wolfsbane) a mundane plant with magical properties. The name had seemed funny to you and Remus had assured that it had nothing to do with werewolves.

Herbology was a very simple class for you, especially with the help that sometimes the best student in the class gave you: Frank Longbottom.

"Well, the hour is up, do you want to discuss any of the issues or...?" he was interrupted by Sirius abruptly closing the book and who with a wave of his wand put away all his notes "Everyone except Sirius, would you like to discuss something?" he asked, rolling his eyes at the brunette's innocent smile.

You all denied and Lupin ended the meeting. Everyone scattered in different directions, including James who seemed to have magically awakened as soon as the hour was up, but you stayed in the sitting room with your feet tucked up on the red velvet chair.

"What happens?" Sirius asked from behind, not noticing your presence. He jumped onto the couch and flopped into it.

"Nothing, do I need to go where everyone goes all the time?" you asked raising an eyebrow. The boy smiled and shook his head as he leaned on one of his hands, closing the distance between you. "Weren't you the one who was dying to get out of here?"

"Correction: I wanted the session to end, at no time did I speak about the company" he replied and you smiled "Speaking of which, I was thinking..."

"You think?"

“When I want to do it, yes,” he said amused “But let me talk and then you make fun of me. I was thinking that this weekend we are going to Hogsmeade and I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere "

"Sure!" You answered animatedly and his eyes lit up "Will the others go too?" You continued, but the boy was suddenly disappointed.

"Hmm, I was thinking of something... different."

"Different?"

“Yeah, something like… you know, you and me. Alone”

And with that, you were paralyzed in your place.

You'd been alone with him countless times, just like that time, but it was one thing to chat in his common room or in class and quite another to ask you out at Hogsmeade.

"Oh, sure. Something like… a walk or shopping for chocolate frogs at Honeydukes, right?" you said quickly, trying not to show your nerves.

"Hmm, I could think of something else like Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop," he said with a smile. You gulped and watched him with concern. That place was usually full of cheesy couples. "Even though I have all those pink things, I could take them if I'm with you..."

"No," you said abruptly. Sirius was silent and you watched his smile diminish considerably. “I mean, no… I don't wish we were alone. We are always accompanied by the group, why not do it now?” you asked with an awkward smile. The boy was close to you and apparently he did not expect that answer, as his face reflected it quite well. But you were too busy with nerves eating your stomach to notice.

"Uh... yeah, I guess I'll tell them then" he exclaimed softly.

"Yes! It will be more fun and we can go for butterbeer if you want. And I could buy you those sweets that you like, what do you say? " you asked trying to sound a little more animated. Sirius was good at pretending and his disappointed look on his was replaced by a smile in an instant.

"Yes, that would be fine" he replied. His hand traveled to your cheek and he ran over it gently, resting at the base of your jaw for a moment. His hands were callused and very large compared to yours "Then we will go with everyone, as always" he sighed. His hand went up a bit and you felt him tug at your earlobe.

"Hey!" you screamed trying to reach for her head to hit her. Sirius dodged it quite skillfully and it made you laugh.

"I think I'll go to my room. See you tomorrow?" he murmured with a tight-lipped smile as he rose from the couch.

"Sure, see you tomorrow" you replied in the same way, watching him walk towards the exit. You released your contained breath and let your head fall against the back of the chair, processing what had just happened.

You were very sure of what Sirius had tried to do and you didn’t understand the reason for your reaction. I mean, you had completely paralyzed shortly after blatantly flirting with the boy. You had had many dates in your life, why would this be any different?

You looked down the hall where Sirius had gone and remembered his disappointed fase. Should you go look for him?

No, maybe it was best to just let it go and gradually he would forget about it. Yes, that would be the best.

You looked at the seat where he had previously been and you also touched your cheek, hoping you could relive the touch that he had given you. For a few seconds you felt guilty that you responded so rudely to his request, but then you simply shook your head to drive those thoughts away.

"I should be sleeping" you thought aloud. You weren't even sleepy and it wasn't even too late, but you imagined it would be easier to lie down on the bed and not think about it anymore.

You took your things in silence and climbed the stone stairs, leaving behind that memory that you hoped would soon be forgotten.

It had been a few days since that incident and luckily things hadn't changed at all between you and Sirius. He really seemed to have forgotten what happened, so the weekend trip to Hogsmeade unfolded in the most normal way in the world.

Sirius was still flirtatious as ever, teasing you and taking every opportunity to be close to you. You liked his company, he made you feel quite calm and you always had something to talk about. If it wasn't this, it was that, and when you weren't talking you were laughing.

"How could you not fall asleep in Slughorn's class?" James asked. His head hung from the ledge where he was lying and played with his glasses. "The only thing that could distract me was Snivellus's voice."

"Don't call him that," Lily said in a stern voice and you snorted.

“Why do you defend him so much? " you asked wrinkling your nose. Lily looked at you just as seriously.

"Because he’s my friend and he does not deserve to be mistreated like that"

"Mistreat?" you asked incredulously “Have you heard him mocking us along with his entourage of snooty Slytherins? Who you should take care of should be that Lucius and Regulus" you said rolling your eyes "No offense, Sirius" you added. The boy was leaning against the wall with his tie unbuttoned resting on his shoulders.

"It's not offensive, it's the truth" he murmured amused, shrugging and giving you a smile.

Lily didn't say anything else, but she seemed annoyed and she didn't speak for the rest of the afternoon. Peter and James started arguing about things you weren't really interested in so you decided to focus on the scribbles you were drawing on a worn parchment.

You felt an extra pressure next to you on the couch and it wasn't even necessary to look to know who he was.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing" you said simply, keeping your eyes on your scroll.

"Can I talk to you?"

"You are doing it" you replied with a smile. Sirius rolled his eyes and took the quill from your hand, forcing you to look at him.

"Can I talk to you alone?" he asked seriously. Oh no, trouble again...

"Why alone, dear?" you said as a joke. Sirius was too close to you and you tried not to get flustered by it "Is there something you need to say to me that others can't hear?" you asked with a tight-lipped smile, the kind you wear when you're uncomfortable with something.

Sirius cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck unconsciously. You knew he did that when he was nervous.

"Well... to tell the truth something like that" he murmured with a smile. You felt your heart beat faster "Do you think we can go to my room?" he asked.

"To your room?" you said, your voice an octave higher than normal.

"Yeah, you've been there a thousand times," he laughed.

"Eh, is what you have to tell me very urgent?" you asked. You were a bundle of nerves and you really didn't understand what it was.

"Yeah boo, it's important," he said gently. His hand traveled to yours and took your fingers against his. You turned pale because he didn't say urgent but important.

“So, uh, come on. The faster the better, right?" you expressed nervous. You got up from your place and walked to the bedrooms without looking back. You heard an almost deathly silence in the common room and then laughter, but you didn't have time to look when Sirius was already shoving you from the lower back.

The walk to his room was very silent, the first omen that something bad was about to happen. Once you were in his bedroom he let you in first and closed the door behind you, managing to startle you with the simple sound of the latch.

"Why are you closing the door?" you asked nervously, with the volume of your voice considerably louder. Sirius noticed this and quickly removed the latch he had placed on the door.

"I just didn't want to be bothered, that's all," he said with a frown "You're a bit strange, are you sure you don't mind being here with me?"

"No, no, nothing like that" you rushed to reply, waving your hands in an exaggerated way. Sirius found it cute when you did that "You're the one who's suddenly strange, I'm not"

"Yeah, maybe I've been behaving a little weird lately" he smiled, in that way that reminded you of a child "But I promise you it's for good reason, in fact it's what I want to talk to you about" he started to say.

You panicked, total panic screaming at you to get out of there at all costs. The look Sirius gave you, the nervous posture of him and the way he was smiling at you. You knew what that was.

"McGonagall!" You screamed out of nowhere before he could continue

"Excuse me?"

“I forgot that I have a very important meeting with McGonagall, to see the matter of one of my grades. It is essential that I go today and I forgot, can we have this talk later? " you said clasping your hands in a sign of prayer.

Sirius looked, for the second time, disappointed.

"Sure, school is more important," he replied, trying not to sound affected. You grinned widely and walked in the direction of the exit, eager to leave his room.

"Thank you Sirius, you are an angel"

"I know I look like one, but I'm not quite sure I am," he joked, but his smile was not as bright as before. You laughed in response and stood on the balls of his feet to place a kiss on his cheek.

"See you later, I promise," you murmured hastily, leaving without giving him a chance to say anything else.

"Yes... I can wait" Sirius spoke to himself, with a hurt tone. He released his breath and lay down on his respective bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt something strange in his chest, something that wanted him to cry out.

You walked down the hallways, desperate to get away from the questions he might have asked, and when you were outside your common room you didn't stop. On the contrary, you ran and ran through the corridors hoping that no one would find you.

You didn't stop until you were outside the castle, until you were on the same black lake. And once there, you collapsed to cry.

You entered through the portrait of the fat lady, making sure to remove your shoes first so as not to make noise when entering. It was late and you had spent all day wandering the castle only to never return to your common room, wearing James's cloak so as not to be discovered.

It had been a few other days since you spoke to him and you still didn't feel ready to face him. Especially when, that afternoon, you had come to your room totally agitated and your two companions had bombarded you with questions.

Did he already tell you? they asked. What was he supposed to say? What was that important thing that Sirius was going to do that you had avoided?

The worst thing was that you already knew, that was the reason for your flight. Your mind knew what was going to happen and refused to accept it.

But you had also wanted it, you had been waiting for that question for years and now you were simply hiding from everyone so you wouldn't have to face that change.

"I was wondering where you were," said a voice in the dark, making you jump instead. The fireplace was off and the darkness did not allow you to see well who it was, but it was not necessary because you recognized his words perfectly “Well, I was not wondering where because I have this wonderful map to which we all owe a lot, but I was wondering why” he murmured showing you 'The Marauder's Map'. It was night, you couldn't move anywhere anymore and you knew that sooner or later that moment had to come. Still in the dark you saw the silhouette of him get up from the couch and walk in your direction "Are you avoiding me?"

"Sirius..."

"Of course you're avoiding me," he answered himself. The boy took a step towards you and your reaction was to walk two steps back. Sirius stifled a laugh “That's what I refer. Whenever you seem to move towards me and I get closer, you move further away" he muttered. You thought that maybe he was not only referring to the literal part of the sentence “I don't blame you, but I sincerely wonder why you do it. I am a very curious boy” he expressed somewhat ironic. His words hurt because you knew you couldn't give him an explanation "And you're very smart, I'd say too much, and I'm sure you knew my intentions from the moment I asked to speak to you, right?" he continued. He took another step towards you, you stepped back "Do you not like me? You can say no and I will never blame you, but I would have preferred a no sincere to the uncertainty in which I find myself” he explained. Another step, another step "Won't you say anything?" he asked without losing his temper. You were surprised by how calmly he could react to all situations when you were struggling to stay on your feet.

"Sirius, it's not what it seems" you tried to justify yourself. But the man said nothing, because you knew he wanted a more substantial answer than that. You refused to look at him and felt him take another step in your direction, repeating the previous sequence. But this time you felt your back crash against the stone wall and Sirius's arms at your sides, imprisoning you against it.

You looked at his clothes. He was still wearing his uniform but he looked more scruffy and some items were missing. His shirt had a three-quarter sleeve, thanks to the fact that he had picked it up himself.

"Y/N, please" he spoke in a soft voice "I do not ask you to reciprocate, I only ask you to give me an answer"

"I'm terrified Sirius!" you finally said, in a louder voice "I'm completely scared, what else do you want me to tell you?"

"Are you afraid of me?"

"I'm afraid of how you feel about me" you murmured sincerely. Maybe it was time to be honest with him, because you had no other alternative anyway. He had cornered you to it, literally “It scares me that things will change between us, okay? And I like you too, I like you a lot, but I'm afraid of what might happen next" you whispered without looking at him. The heat that emanated from his body hugged you “I like you to tell me all those compliments, even if I say otherwise. I like when you touch our hands, I like that we escape together from class, that when we walk around the outside of the castle you cut flowers to put in my hair, I like to see you every day and I like the cute nicknames you call me with. I like everything about you, Sirius. And that's why I'm so scared of losing you" you exclaimed with a cracking voice. Sirius kept a pious gaze on you. You could feel a bit of his accelerated breath "I've had a lot of good people in my life who have ended up leaving, I don't want that to happen with you..."

"And how will you know if we don't try, love?" he spoke. His voice came out hoarse and with his hand he gently took you by the chin to force you to see him "You could have told me this before and I would have stopped insisting, or we would have discussed it as we are doing now" you looked at him, eyes clouded with tears restrained, and Sirius smiled at you tenderly "I'm not going to force you to do anything, I never would and I never will. But I would... I would like to have something with you. I really like you and if you don't agree I will respect it, but it would be a dream come true to be able to form a relationship "

"Sirius, I don't know how to do it."

"Me neither!" he said, almost excited and managed to make you smile. He carefully wiped the tears that fell from your cheeks. “We could learn together and I promise you that if it doesn't work, I won't let you. If we are not a good couple then we will be friends again and problem solved. But how about we realize that we are ideal for each other? " he muttered. His thumb left slow and delicate caresses on your face “I don't know how to love either, nobody in my family knows how to do it and that's why I never learned to do it. But… being here at Hogwarts I knew what it was like to have friends, to have friends. I learned that my heart races when I see you and that I also like all those things you do for me. I like you to know what my favorite sweets are and buy them for me, I like it when you detangle my hair, when you force me to study, even if I don't like it, because you care about me. When you know that I am sad and you do everything to cheer me up, even when you call me in horrible ways and make fun of me" he laughed, making you smile too "And if you give me the opportunity I know that I can make you very happy and I would also be very happy to be with you. I planned for many days how to say these words to you, but I think now I speak from the heart when I tell you that I like you like no one else has. I'll take care of you, I promise. And I already told you that if this doesn't work, and you decide that way, we will continue to be friends” he concluded. In his eyes you could see that he was also nervous, that he had the same fear as you but that he was better hiding it "Now, if you want me to list the many advantages that I would have as a boyfriend, then doing it" he continued, with a more naughty tone "Don't pay too much attention to me, but I give some excellent kisses..."

"According to whom?"

"According to me!" he said obvious “If you want to check it I am totally available. I mean, just so you know I'm not a liar," he muttered innocently, making you smile from ear to ear.

"Are you sure about this Sirius?"

"From my kisses? Of course"

"About us, you great idiot," you said rolling your eyes and gently pulling a loose lock of his long hair.

"Ouch! If you are going to insult me ​​and pull my hair like that I would prefer that we were in a more private place, my dear” he murmured flirtatiously, putting one of his hands on your waist and closing the distance between you. You looked away but he forced you to look at him again "Of course I'm sure, only if you're sure too" he replied. You sighed, feeling in your stomach a more pleasant emptiness than the previous ones.

"Then ask me"

"What do you want I ask you?"

"What were you planning to ask for days, silly" you said rolling your eyes. Sirius smirked.

"Can you let me copy your Potions project?" he said pretending to be confused and you tried to free yourself from his grip due to lack of seriousness, but he did not allow it. He took you from behind him, putting his arm around your lower back so that his torsos collided and the space between his faces was minimal. You had to lift your head to watch him, but he also looked down to save you a bit of work. His smile faded, but despite the darkness in his eyes you could glimpse a sample of the love he professed for you "Would you like me to be your boyfriend?" he asked softly.

You would remember that moment all your life, his voice low, his sounding in the middle of the darkness with the question that would start his beautiful love story.

"I wouldn’t like it," you said just as seriously, looking into his eyes with a smile. Your hands went up to the back of his neck and you pulled his face gently to place a kiss on his cheek. He smiled "I would love it"

[duskholland]

Zip It || Peter Parker

prompt ↠ “oh, you want to kiss me so fucking bad, don’t you?” / “... what if I do?”

summary ↠ you didn’t think it could get any worse than the shared bed at the hotel, but then you find out you have to pretend to be peter’s girlfriend for the duration of the mission. it really feels like the universe is laughing in your face. ↠ enemies to lovers, fake dating, college au. word count ↠ 6.3k. warnings ↠ alcohol + a college party, brief use of needles, all the teasing and cursing that comes with an enemies to lovers, and some suggestive tension! this is sfw! a/n ↠ I love this prompt. I’ve wanted to write something based off it for ages, and what better scenario to explore it than in an enemies to lovers fake dating situation lmao? :’) it’s been a while since I wrote anything long with pete so I’m a lil rusty, but this was still a lot fun! I hope you like it

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Are you falling asleep right now? Seriously?” Your voice is scathing, your face pinched into a scowl as you stare across the hotel room. “Peter, we have to go in an hour.”

There’s the sound of the duvet rustling as Peter Parker very slowly looks up to glare at you. He’s sprawled beneath the covers of the large double bed, the sheets pulled up to his chin. The heat he carries in his eyes as he hears your accusation is considerably softened by the oversized burgundy hoodie he’s being swallowed by, and the fact his hair is wild and unkempt.

“No,” he says, voice cracking from its high pitch. He clears his throat immediately, cheeks flushing a little darker as he grimaces and looks away. “I’m just...chilling, Y/N.”

“Sure,” you reply. You shift around in the uncomfortable armchair in the corner of the room, feeling pain shoot up your back from the hunched position you’ve been in for far too long. “Liar.”

Peter sits up a little straighter, pulling a face. It’s quick to shatter as he yawns suddenly, and loudly, the sound so brash and unexpected that it makes you jump. Amusement mixes with his annoyance as he looks at you, brown eyes glinting almost amber beneath the light from the bedside lamp.

“I’m not lying. I’m just enjoying this really comfy bed,” he says. His pink lips quirk into a smirk, and he looks so fucking smug as he buries himself back beneath the covers. “It’s so warm. I think the, uh, the sheets are satin. Feels like a cloud, or something. And the pillows…” Peter releases a strangled sound, hitting the back of his head off one of the feathery pillows for dramatic effect. “So nice… Um, unrelated, Y/N, but… how’s that chair? Looks pretty uncomfortable.”

You scowl. “Shut up,” you snap. “You’re completely insufferable. I can’t believe I have to be here with you right now.” You drop your voice, speaking in mutters as you add, more to yourself, “why couldn’t it be Cap? Or Natasha? Why’d it have to be you?”

Peter releases a mirthless chuckle. You glance back, watching as he combs a hand through his fluffy brown curls, messy and wild from so long lounging around. He looks a little bit like an angry teddy bear, wrapped up in such a large hoodie, tucked up in bed. You’re quick to push down that thought. There is nothing cute or inoffensive about Peter Parker.

“Do you think I’m any happier than you about this?” he responds, voice dull. “This is the worst mission I’ve ever been assigned to, and that’s saying a lot. Do you remember that one we did, with the, uh, the… The chemicals? In the lab? Or the time that we had to go and deal with all those freaky alien snakes?” he breaks off, shivering, then recomposes himself enough to shoot you a sour look. “This is worse than all of those times.”

The ache in your back from the chair grows too much to bear, so you stand up slowly, trying to hide your expression of pain.

“Well, hopefully, we’ll get this over with soon,” you reply, voice a mutter. You cast him a distrustful look. “I might kill you if I have to spend much longer with you.”

Peter just smirks, rolling onto his side as he snuggles back into bed. “Feeling’s mutual, baby,” he calls out, looking back at his phone.

You sigh, rolling your eyes as you stalk over to your suitcase and pull out your outfit for tonight, followed by a bag of makeup and hair products. You don’t bother to say anything more as you stride into the bathroom, slamming the door behind you for effect. The moment it’s shut, you throw everything down on the counter and grab at the cool porcelain of the basin, staring yourself in the mirror as you try to calm down.

Peter makes you so frustrated. Since high school and the cramped hallways of Midtown, he’s been an irritant to you. Back then, he was always hanging around, crowding your space, infiltrating your friend group. You understood it, at first. He was a new addition to the Avengers, a team you’ve been a part of since you were 14. Maybe it was to be expected that he clung to you like he did back then, and stuck to your side like glue. Maybe you’d liked it at first.

But then he’d grown up. Peter had become cockier, bolder. The biggest transformation was when you both went to college and somehow ended up on the same course, sharing 90% of the same classes. You got to watch as he was scouted by the college lacrosse team, and thus his ego inflated. To most people, you know he appears charming. He’s polite, considerate, compassionate, and those qualities have awarded him both the attention of your entire college population and the acclaim of the citizens of New York. They herald him, repeatedly, as their saviour, and whilst you’re not jealous of the attention he gets, it irritates you.

Peter does stupid things, all the time, and everyone just lets him get away with it. Like when he accidentally webbed you down during a mission or tossed a bomb your way assuming you could magically diffuse it within the five seconds left on the timer. He steals your food from the fridge in the Avengers’ compound every single time, despite the notes and the padlocks you’ve resorted to using. It’s as if Peter is intent on ruining your life, and when he’s not doing it by fucking up a mission, he’s always just...there. Hanging around, with a sly smirk on his lips or a witty remark laying at the tip of his tongue, trying to get a rise out of you.

You can’t stand being around him.

To add insult to injury, you’ve both been roped into working this mission together. It’s an odd pairing—usually, you’d have at least one other member of the team to act as a buffer between you both. This time, though, with the objective being the infiltration of a college party, apparently you and Peter are the only people who look the right age. You think it’s just some elaborate ploy to get you to work better together, but your complaints had fallen on deaf ears.

You sigh as you look at your reflection in the mirror.

As you do your makeup and fix your hair, you try to let go of some of the frustration you feel. You’re jumpy and shaking, feeling like an uncontrollable livewire. You always feel oddly unsettled whenever you’re around Peter, and it’s only been growing worse recently.

A weight rolls from your shoulders when you finish painting your face and fixing your hair. All that’s left is your dress, and you pick it up with a smile on your face. It’s short, one of your own, and a pretty shade of red—the perfect number for a college party. You slip into it, wriggling as the silky material slides up to press against your soft skin. It’s going well, but then...

You can’t reach the zip.

“Fuck,” you mutter, scrunching up your nose as you reach back and paw helplessly at the undone zipper. You’d forgotten when you’d packed it that the high rise of the zip on this particular dress always gives you trouble. “Peter!”

“What?” he yells back.

You grimace and try a final time to grab the zipper yourself.

“Can you come here?”

“Is that how you ask for something politely?”

You inhale a shuddering breath, clenching your fists as you glance up at the ceiling. Through tight, irritated lips, you call back, “Peter Parker, oh generous and kind saviour of New York City, could you please come here and help me?”

You hear the sheets of the bed rustle very slowly, followed by the heavy set sounds of footsteps stomping over the carpet. You wonder if he’s being purposefully annoying, or if he’s just like this. A moment later, Peter opens the bathroom door, sticking his head around the doorframe with a scowl on his face. He opens his mouth to speak, only for the words to catch as his eyes bulge and take in your figure. You stand a little straighter, arching an eyebrow as you watch him swallow, deeply, taking in the tight fit of the dress and the way it clings confidently to your form.

“Uh- oh, uh, what?” he mutters, cheeks burning red.

“Can you get my zip? Please?” you ask, biting back a smile as you see how flustered he’s become. It gives you a rush of confidence that you can’t quite explain to have him looking at you like that. “It’s uh, just too high for me to reach.” You turn so you have your back to him, glancing into the long bathroom mirror to watch him tentatively step forward.

“Yeah,” he responds, voice gentle. He shuffles nearer, still shrouded in that soft hoodie.

You bend down slightly and make sure he’s got open access to the back as you stand still. A small pulse of electricity crackles down your spine when Peter perches one of his warm hands on your bare shoulder, fingertips brushing up against the thin strap as the other curves down to your back.

“You, uh… You look nice,” Peter murmurs. He’s gentle as his fingers tug the zip, and you have to look away from the mirror, something in your chest tightening as you observe how delicate he is with you. It’s a stark contrast to how haphazardly he treats you out on the field when you’re both protected by your suits.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

It’s tense. You can feel his breath coming out across the back of your neck, and you’re entirely aware of the hand resting on your shoulder. As the sound of the zip slowly being pulled up fills the small space of the bathroom, you find yourself holding your breath.

“There,” Peter mutters. He steps back, immediately pulling away all contact with your body, and your skin feels cold without him. You glance in the mirror, seeing that he’s fixed it perfectly, and give him a short nod.

“Thanks,” you say again, lacking any better words. Your brain feels fuzzy.  

Peter’s phone buzzes and you watch as he digs through his front pocket to find it. “Oh!” he exclaims. His nimble fingers pad over the front screen. “They’ve sent through our fake identities.”

“Ooh,” you say, suddenly feeling excited. This is your favourite part of going undercover—the fake names, the fabricated social media accounts, and the backstory you get to spin. Whoever HQ designs for you becomes your character for the night, and it’s thrilling. Makes you feel a little bit like a movie star. “Let me see.”

Peter’s brows furrow and you watch his jaw drop as his eyes widen. He glances at you, nervousness mixing with his frustration.

“You’re not going to like this,” he says.

“Why? What are you talking about? What have they done? Why—”

He passes you the phone with a roll of his eyes, and you snatch it from his hand.

“Oh, yeah, no problem, Y/N, you don’t need to say thanks,” Peter says sarcastically.

Entranced by the phone, you sit on the marble bathroom counter, continuing to scroll through the fake social media profiles as Peter faffs around in front of the mirror. You’re numbly aware of him pulling off his hoodie, then inspecting his teeth and uncapping his tub of hair gel.

The profiles seem fine. You can’t see anything wrong with them. You’ll be Fi Hardy, Peter as Ben Beckerman. You scroll down your own orchestrated instagram feed, seeing photos of you, pictures of typical college things, then…

“Wait.” You feel your breath catch. “What the fuck.”

“Yeah.” You can hear the smirk in Peter’s voice. “I know.”

The tech team back at HQ is incredibly talented. One of their freakiest and most irritating skills is their ability to photoshop photos that look so real it’s disconcerting. Their latest feat seems to be a series of photos of you and Peter together, except, it’s not really you kissing his cheek, and it’s definitely not him with his arms wrapped around you and his face nuzzled into your neck.

“They...want us to be a couple?” you mutter, voice tight.

“Mmm. Gets worse than that, though. Look at the caption on the newest one.”

You scroll back up, eyes catching on the small, almost insignificant detail of the photo. It’s you both, again, standing together at a party that never took place. Your left-hand rests on Peter’s shoulder, and though some of the details are blurry, the presence of a ring is not.

@fi_hardy: feel like the happiest girl in the world. can’t wait to have you as my husband <3

Beneath the post is hundreds of likes, and a stream of comments from fake accounts congratulating the two of you on your engagement.

It makes sense, you suppose. You’ve read the file. You know that the man you’re trying to bug tonight has a history of pursuing taken women, and you suspect that your engagement ring might give you access to him that you might otherwise not get. On a basic level, you understand it, and if it was anyone else assigned as your fiancé, you’d be fine with it. But it’s not. It’s him.

You throw Peter’s phone on the counter angrily.

“Hey!” he yells, quickly snatching it up and cradling it close. “Careful!”

You slip down from the counter, your fingernails digging into the soft flesh of your palms as you pace the short space. Peter jumps out of your way, eyeing you with amusement in his eyes.

“Are you seriously laughing right now?” you quip, needing to direct your irritation at someone.

Peter shrugs. “Maybe. You’re being really dramatic.”

“Oh, well I’m sorry that I don’t particularly like the idea of walking around a party pretending to be engaged to you.” Your eyes widen as you start to think about what this actually entails. “Clearly, these people are gross and affectionate. Have you even thought about what that might mean?”

Peter loses a little bit of his confidence, his cheeks paling slightly. “Well, uh, we don’t have to play into it that much—”

“Yes, we do,” you challenge. “They’ve clearly set it up like this for a reason. If we don’t follow it exactly, then we’ll fuck up the mission.” You meet his gaze, nostrils flaring. “I’m not going to fuck up this mission, Peter, and you better not either.”

“Woah,” he mutters, throwing his hands in the air. His fingers glint beneath the harsh bathroom lighting, still partly sticky from the hair gel. “I’m not planning on messing up the mission.” He tilts his head to the side, chuckling. “I’m gonna be the most convincing fake fiancé you’ve ever had.”

You pause, crossing your arms. “Oh, really?” You raise a brow. “You know, that means you’re going to have to, like… Hold my hand.”

Peter nods, gelled hair staying in place. He copies your movements, biceps bulging against the thin white t-shirt as he folds his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” he says. He steps a little closer, smirking, and you breathe in the scent of his cologne. “Might even have to kiss you, too.”

Something inside your chest rebels against your irritation, and you find yourself puzzling as an odd combination of emotions strikes you.

“You will,” you say, narrowing your eyes. You look away, trying to shake off the odd feelings in your stomach. “I, uh… I’m going to go and find the rest of my jewellery.” You walk towards the bathroom door, glancing back just in time to catch Peter’s eyes admiring your form. His cheeks flush again, and you raise a brow. “Hurry up,” you mutter. “We need to go.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

An hour later, you’re there, thrown thick into the fray of a Chicago house party. From the outside, you’d been sceptical—the house looked to be a normal building, smack bang in the centre of a residential street. Inside, though, it wears all the marks of a college party: tacky red cups, a terrible DJ, and a persistent level of noise that makes your ears ache. As a student yourself, you usually love parties, but you will admit it’s a little disconcerting to be at one where you know no one. Undercover and knowing no one but Peter, you find yourself in the back corner of the room with him, his arm thrown easily around your shoulders as the two of you scout the room.

Peter’s presence at your side is merely for protection, and both of you know it. With neither of you in your suits and your skills leaning more towards the pick-pocketing side than his, the plan is simple. You’ll both work together to identify your target, then you’ll discreetly take his phone and pass it off to Peter who will make a copy of all the files. Hopefully you’ll be able to return it to Harry Osborn, the son of the elusive CEO of Oscorp, before he notices that his phone, which contains precious information about illegal scientific experiments, has been taken.

It should be simple.

“Where the fuck is he?” you murmur, squinting your eyes as you survey the crowd. It’s Harry’s party, yet the host hadn’t been on the door, nor does he appear to be in the living room.

“Don’t know,” Peter responds.

You glance up at him, biting back a snarling comment as you get distracted by the sight of his face. It’s quite… It’s quite cute.

Peter’s pulled a blue plaid shirt over the top of his white t-shirt. The cuffs obscure the web shooters he’d refused to leave behind, and the material clings tightly to his torso. He’s buffed up considerably since joining the lacrosse team, and though you despise the way he’s now able to press more than you in the gym, you will admit he looks good with his chest full and muscular.

“Um, Fi?” Peter’s looking at you, eyebrows arched. His thin lips twitch into almost a smile, and he tugs you a little bit closer. You squeak as you fall into him, having to reach up and grab at his shoulders to steady yourself. The glint of the golden band, sitting on your ring finger, draws your attention. “Are you okay, baby? Looking a little bit… Distracted.”

He doesn’t know you were checking him out. There’s no way. He doesn’t.

...Does he?

You smile sweetly, trying to look at him like you’re in love. “Sorry, babe,” you respond. There are people all around you, chatting and swaying to the music, so you have to maintain the rouse. “Got a lot on my mind.”

Peter coos, reaching up to pat your cheek softly. You have to press down the urge to bite his finger.

“‘Course you do,” he soothes. His eyes flitter around your face, then back to the rest of the room as he surveys the crowd. Peter’s expression suddenly clears, and he pats your cheek softly. “He’s here,” he murmurs, voice low. “Eleven o’clock.”

You turn in his arms, sinking back into Peter’s form as he adjusts to hold you in a loose hug. His chin presses into your shoulder, slick hair brushing up against the bottom of your face. His warm grip on your waist makes you gulp.

Harry Osborn has entered the room. The blond is surrounded by a group of his friends and wearing a long, green and purple checkered jacket. Even from across the room, he emanates the stench of old money and thick charm.

“Alright,” you say. You pull away from Peter, having to fight for a few moments to break free from his firm grip. You turn back to look at him, blinking a few times as you take in his unreadable expression. “I’m going in. Stay close.”

Peter gives you a curt nod. “Gotcha,” he says. He drops his voice, eyes darkening. “Be safe,” he adds, voice a little quieter.

You swallow, nodding in return. “You too.”

Before he can say another word, you take off, melting into the crowd with ease. You’ve got a vague game plan building in your mind, but you won’t know the best way to get close to Harry until you get a better read on his character. You know a few things from his file, such as his naturally outgoing personality and a supposed affinity for taken girls, but beyond that, he’s a mystery.

You find a cup of cheap beer and stand fairly near Harry and the rest of his friends. There’s a few of them, standing in a circle, laughing loudly and talking in obscenities. You sway with the rest of the partiers, making direct and focused eyes towards him until he glances up and spots you. His eyes caress your figure, then he wiggles his eyebrows at you, and you slap on your best I’m interested face.

Harry excuses himself from his friends, walking over to you, intrigued.

“Hey,” he calls out, falling to a stop in front of you. His wavy blond curls complement the icy depths of his blue eyes. “Do I know you?” His tone is light but curious.

You nod immediately, slapping on a bright smile. “Yeah,” you reply. “We were in the same chem class last semester? I’m Fi.” Your words are instilled with so much brash confidence that Harry accepts them. He leans into you as you step closer and place your free hand up on his shoulder, fingertips feeling the soft material of his jacket. “I always had a bit of a crush on you, if I’m being honest.”

Harry chuckles, looking you up and down with hunger in his eyes. You match his movements, doing it under the guise of checking him out, but really, you’re trying to locate the position of his phone. A frown finds your lips as you begin to suspect it might be in one of his inner pockets. Your brain starts to spin, running through a variety of different actions you could pull that might give you closer access to him.

“You’re cute,” he decides. Harry smirks, then he plucks the red solo cup from your hand and raises it to his own lips. After draining it, he haphazardly throws it behind him, and your eyes follow it as it soars through the air and bounces off someone’s head. A snort slips past your lips as the figure jolts up, and you recognise the bed of brown curls as Peter. “D’you want to dance with me?”

You nod immediately, forcing a smile as you bring your eyes away from Peter, and back to Harry.

“I would love that,” you respond. Harry grins, then reaches forward to take your hand, only to halt as his beady eyes fall on your ring. Your breath hitches as you hope and pray the intel on his romantic tendencies is correct.

“Are you getting hitched?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing.

You shrug, trying to pass it off as a mere inconvenience. You distract him with fingers in his hair, stroking through the ends of his strands.

“Does it bother you?” you coo, stepping up to whisper in his ear. “He isn’t around at the moment, and I really want to dance with you, Harry.”

The blond’s eyes darken, and he shakes his head. “No problem with me, sweetheart,” he bounces back. He tugs you further into the room, and from the corner of your eye, you see Peter following.

You dance together for a while and slowly, you inch closer to Harry. What starts out as a casual exploration of his form with your hands quickly turns into a full-body pat-down, but he doesn’t seem to notice it. As you slide your fingers beneath the heavy material of his jacket, his lips tickle your neck, kissing your skin harshly. You hide a scowl as your fingers shift lower, lower, and finally, you feel it—his phone.

Harry coaxes you away from his shoulder, and you feel disappointment dampen your excitement as he glances at you, slightly flushed.

“D’you want to go upstairs?” he asks, voice sultry.

You pout softly. “Can we just dance? For a little bit longer?” You know if he gives you one more shot at it, you’ll be able to snatch his phone.

Harry nods, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. His palm is cool and calloused, and it feels alien on your face.

“Of course,” he responds, voice soft. His eyes slip down to your lips, and you know what he wants. You think that it’d be a small price to pay for completing the mission. “You’re so pretty.”

He starts to lean in, his touch on your face encouraging you to do the same. Your eyes flutter shut, but before you’re able to seal the deal, something very large crashes into you.

You yelp, being pushed back from Harry. Your eyes spring back open, and nothing short of volatile irritation burns across you as you see that it’s Peter.

“Woah, man, what the fuck?” Harry snaps. “Look where you’re going.”

Peter snarls at him and reaches down to grab your hand. Your eyes widen, and you squeeze his fingers hard.

“Yeah, well, maybe you should watch where you’re putting your hands before you try and make a move on my girl.”

You jolt up, staring at him, horrified. Before Harry can get in another word, Peter’s jerking you across the room, pulling you in the direction of the patio.

“What the fuck?!” you exclaim, voice high. “What did you do that for? Eh? I was so close to getting the fucking phone, Peter!” you drop your voice as you speak his real name. You try to shake yourself out of his grip, only for him to squeeze you tighter.

Peter doesn’t say anything—not until you’re outside, standing away from the rest of the party, shielded in the trees. He drops your hand and starts to pace in front of you, eyes wild, face scowling.

“You weren’t,” he says, pointing at your left hand. “We’re supposed to be engaged. You were going to blow our cover.”

You throw your hands in the air. “Excuse me? That’s bullshit. Both of us know that this,” you pause to throw your hand up and point at your ring, “is part of it. He likes taken girls, idiot. He found it hot. What the fuck is your problem?”

Peter stops pacing, and he stands in front of you, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. His eyes trail across you, and he jumps forward a few steps.

“He was...sleazy,” he says, scrunching up the tip of his nose. “We’ll just take him out another way. Like, we- we can just wait until he’s alone, and jump him. You’ve still got those, uh, those unconscious injection things, right? We’ll just jab him, steal the phone, use the memory wiping ones, and it’ll be fine.” He’s sputtering and stammering over his words, and you press both hands into your waist as you stare at him, incredulously.

“I understand now,” you say, speaking quickly. “You’re jealous.”

Peter’s expression shifts into one of horror. He opens his mouth to speak, but you jump in first.

“No, I’m talking,” you interrupt. You step closer, finding yourself drawn to the fierce anger churning in his eyes. “You want to be the one who gets all the credit for the mission. You can’t stand the thought of me doing the hard work, can you? You’d rather sabotage the whole thing than let me do my job.”

Peter shakes his head roughly, a few strands of his hair bursting free from the confines of the gel.

“No,” he stresses. “That’s not it at all, Y/N. How self-centred do you think I am?”

You laugh coldly. You’re so close now, you can almost feel his warm breath coming out over your face.

“Incredibly self-centred, Parker,” you respond, not even bothering to use his code name. You’re too far away from anyone else for them to hear you, anyway. “You’re selfish, and volatile, and you do whatever the fuck you want to do. You’re no better than a child.”

He blinks a few times, pursing his pink lips. “Well, fuck you,” he replies, voice dancing with irritation. “You think I’m a child? You’re the one who never fails to throw insults at me, or make fun of all the things I like to do. You’re always, always, hanging around me, watching me like I’m about to trip up. You’re the one who’s self-centred and doesn’t let anyone help you. You’re stubbornly independent, infuriatingly curious, and you- you- you make me so mad.”

Peter’s glowing, his cheeks bright pink, and his eyes a rich shade of brown that takes your breath away. You don’t know how to respond, so you fall back to the thought that’s been bouncing through your head since he’d tugged up your zipper.

“Oh, you want to kiss me so bad.”

“...What if I do?”

There’s a tense silence as you meet his eyes. Your chest is heaving, Peter’s too, but in sync, you seem to surge together. His hands go to your waist, and you wrap yours around his neck, and he kisses you, suddenly. You moan from surprise, but you push back into it, twirling your fingers into his hair as you kiss him fiercely. His lips are soft and slightly chapped, but they make you feel warm inside, and you realise in a quick moment that you love the feeling of them moving over yours. When he breaks off to gasp for breath, you’re quick to smother him again, craving the sensation, rejoicing in how nice it feels to be held in his strong arms.

You kiss him, and suddenly you understand why it annoys you so much every time you see him playing lacrosse and being cheered on by the crowds in the stands. It becomes clear why you couldn’t stand the sight of him with MJ. The way your skin crawls and your heart seizes in your chest every time Peter looks at you become explainable.

You kiss him, and it all makes sense.

When your lungs burn for air, you fall back. As you inhale the fresh air instead of his lips, your mind starts to clear.

“Peter?” You whisper.

Peter’s holding your waist, forehead pressed against yours as his ragged breath comes out across your face. When you open your eyes, you see the way his eyes are similarly wide with shock.

“I, uh…”

Suddenly, there’s a loud crash from inside the house. Peter jumps back, eyebrows furrowing as if he’s listening to something.

“Gotta go,” he mutters. “Spidey sense. Stay here.”

You try to reach out to grab him, but he slips away.

“B-Ben!” you call after him, but it’s already too late. Peter’s vanished, and your eyes have little more to grasp but the sight of him running over the patio and vaulting into the room.

You decide to follow him, head spinning.

When you reach the house, you see that one of the tables has been pushed over. You suspect that was the source of the loud noise, but a glance around the room gives you no sight of Peter, nor Harry. Your eyes flutter around the sea of people, and where you draw up blank, you decide you’ll need to comb the house.

Using your intuition, you quickly run up the stairs, dress flapping around the bottom of your thighs. It’s quieter upstairs, but you have to push through a few entangled couples. Worry hangs heavy in your heart. There’s a selection of rooms up here, but the one at the end has its door flung wide open. You squint your eyes and stare into it, gaze widening. It’s the master, and it leads out to a large balcony. On the balcony are Peter and Harry, engaged in what seems to be hand-to-hand combat.

You groan as you run into the room, but the sight of Harry’s jacket strewn across the floor makes you pause. You bend down, rummaging through his pockets and grinning as you feel his phone. After pulling it out, you dig into your slim black bag and pull out the transmission beacon. Whilst keeping half an eye on the fight out on the balcony, you use the other to slot Harry’s phone into the device. As the machine absorbs the intel from Harry’s phone, you stand up and hurry out, digging through your bag as you go to join the fight.

It’s a lot worse now that you’re out here. You’d thought Peter was in control, but now you’re closer, you can see that Harry is holding a sharp, thin knife. Usually, in his suit, Peter would be able to hold his own easily. Yet, it seems that Harry is exceptionally good at close combat, and you find them sparring on an equal level, one of Peter’s sleeves slashed and red blood staining the material.

“Who the fuck are you?” Harry sneers, breathless as he dodges a kick from Peter.

“None of your business,” your partner snaps back. Peter sees you, his face clearing with relief, but it knocks his concentration. You gasp as Harry manages to punch him in the side of the face and Peter goes spiralling back, grunting as the force behind it pushes him onto the cement floor.

“Well, if you won’t identify yourself, I’m sure the coroners will,” Harry snarls. He bends down to kneel on Peter, pinning him down with his wrists and legs.

Panic courses through your veins, but you’re finally able to shake it as you realise the fight has tilted very seriously out of Peter’s favour. You grab one of the syringes from your bag and vault across the large balcony, jumping onto Harry’s back. The man grunts, trying to turn around and take you on, too, but you jam the fast-acting needle into his arm, and he immediately slackens. You fall to the side, crashing onto the patio beside Peter as both of you watch Harry pass out. You wince as the blond falls back, slumping onto the balcony with his eyes closed.

“Shit,” Peter murmurs. He sits up, rubbing at his arm. “Thanks.”

You bring your gaze back to him, uncertain and nervous.

“Uh, you’re welcome,” you say. You swallow deeply. Peter’s eyes are dark but kind, glinting like stars beneath the night sky. “You’re my partner, so, uh… I had to protect you.”

“You saved me. He was this close to gutting me.” Peter holds up his fingers, showing you a tiny space as he smiles shyly.

You shrug bashfully, enjoying the way he’s looking at you.

“I couldn’t let you die,” you whisper.

Peter crawls over to you, and you melt like a candle against his lips as he reaches up to cup your face and kiss you, gently. It’s warmer this time and lacks the frenzied anger that’d tainted the last one. You sigh into it, and relax back, letting him press you down against the cool ground as he chases your lips. Peter shifts over you, planking above you, and the hand messily sprawled over your cheek holds you in place, allowing him to kiss you again and again.

“Wait,” you murmur, pulling back, brows furrowing. The sight of him above you, messy hair falling out around his face makes you smile. “What about your arm?”

Peter makes a noncommittal noise. “Super healing,” he mutters. “Worth it.”

You swallow, ghosting your lips over his again.

“But… But don’t you hate me?” you find yourself asking.

“Nah.” Peter’s smiling, his expression warm. “I think, uh… it was more frustration. I think I… I think I feel the opposite of hate. If you… If you know what I mean.”

Your lips twitch into a wide smile. “I know what you mean,” you reply. Teasingly, you press a very light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You drive me mad, but… in a good way.”

Peter chuckles, the sound vibrating through the air. “You’re so cute,” he mumbles between kisses. You play with his hair, aching in every single way to feel more of him. The attraction you feel towards him is consuming and fulfilling, and you wonder why it took you so long to get to the root of your feelings. “I, uh… I couldn’t stand the sight of you two together. That’s why I interrupted you guys. Sorry for, uh, blowing the mission.”

You giggle. Finally, Peter shifts away, standing up with a grunt and offering you a hand up.

“It’s fine,” you say. You curl into his side, his hand resting comfortably on your waist as the two of you look down at Harry. He’s snoring loudly. “It was a memory tranq. He won’t remember any of this tomorrow.” There’s a beeping sound coming from inside his room, and you nudge Peter’s side. “That’ll be the data transfer complete, too.”

Peter hums. He looks back to you, handsome eyes flickering over your face.

“So… Mission complete?” he asks, squeezing your waist.

You nod, smiling. “Mission complete.” You step closer and kiss his cheek, your grin widening as he blushes. “You want to, uh… Get out of here?”

Peter quirks an eyebrow, understanding fluttering out across his face. There are a hundred different things you know you’ll need to talk about and work through, but you don’t feel scared about that. You have a feeling that communicating with Peter is about to get a whole lot easier.

“What, to our very exciting hotel room with that really comfy bed?”

You giggle. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Mhmm.” Peter grabs your hand and squeezes it, then returns your kiss with a brief scattering of light pecks, stretching from cheek to cheek. “Can’t think of anything better, baby.”

You bite your lip, your cheeks aching from the stretch of your smile.

“Me neither.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

woooh yay :’) we lov college peter

lmk what you think !!!

m-list and taglist are linked in my bio <3

[bibbykins]

Penumbric Commitments (M)

A/N: Happy Valentine's Day!! I wrote this up real quick yesterday, so please forgive any lacking in quality, but I had the idea and absolutely sprinted with it! I hope you all enjoy and look forward to the next full length fic I post, which I gave a not so little hint in here to!

Warnings: 18+, unhealthy relationship, manipulation, yelling, rough sex, light bondage, the usage of a belt as wrist restraints (consensual), brief fingering, male cumming inside, talking about not wanting a child, daddy kink, threatening to leave, offering to kill someone, semi-graphic talks of killing someone

Word count: 3.8k

Genre: Soft Yandere, Mafia! Au

Summary: Hindsight says Namjoon so easily complying with not having children was too easy considering his position in the business and the nightmare his parents had readily become. What you didn't realize was how far Namjoon was willing to prove to you he meant what he said that day: all you both ever need is each other.

Note: this is a canon drabble apart of the Silhouetted Bonds fic linked here

It's times like these that you regret getting a traditional clock. The ticking was incessant and daunting. It felt like it was getting closer and closer to your ear with the deafening silence it was slicing through. Analogs had to be the way to go, or better yet, none at all. The last thing you needed right now was a reminder of how much time has been spent at this table. Namjoon had sprinted home the moment his mother called him after your meeting with her. 

----

"Mrs. Kim, always a pleasure." You shook the older woman's hand with a tight smile. 

She returned yours with an equally fake smile, "Please, you know you can call me mother." She chided, but nevertheless you stayed silent as you sat back down at the table in your home. It used to be mom.

It was 8 a.m. your mother in law wanted to meet, so to be petty, you stated 9 a.m. would be great. It's a shame that your relationship with her came to this, but truthfully, it was far from your fault.

While in the beginning she had been like a mother to you, things quickly took a steep downturn the moment Namjoon reintroduced you into his life. The woman who had once been lively, rebellious, and took charge became a demure, stoic, and merely content wife. She had given you talks about your duty as the wife of the boss and the expectations she expected you to fulfill nowadays as opposed to telling stories of her youth and teaching you how to bake eccentric treats. She had even admonished you for leaving Namjoon, an idea she gave you really. Since then, she had always stated your allegiance to the business and your own husband had yet to be proven in her eyes. The notion struck you to only provide her with business professional talks.

You had always known her and Namjoon's father had been a marriage of convenience, but there seemed to be intense love between them, at least at one point. You're not sure when that collapsed in your absence, and sure you felt bad,but you did not care for her patronizing tones. If Namjoon wouldn't retaliate, she almost definitely would've had you killed the moment you decided to leave her precious son. 

"Now, I understand you're a busy woman, so I'll be chaste." She spoke as she took her seat, giving you a pointed look, "Do you feel as though you've made up for your betrayal?" This was obviously a trick question in her eyes, the simple answer being no.

However, you couldn't care less, "I have never betrayed anyone close to me, including Namjoon, if that's what you mean." You met her eyes with valor, "I don't see why you feel the need to ask such a silly question each time I see you." 

She laughed humorlessly, "Maybe I'm hoping for the right answer to cross your stubborn mind." Truly, if Namjoon didn't love and cherish his parents so much you would've told her to fuck off and mind her business, maybe focus on her own shitty marriage, by now. Alas, Namjoon was a people pleaser and fiercely intent on being a filial son.

"You mean your answer to the question about how I feel?" You raised a brow, "Even when apart from Namjoon, I took no other man. I've never even lied to Namjoon, I've been nothing but an honest and hardworking wife after forgiving his own shortcoming in honesty." You watch her fist clench in her lap at the suggestion of her precious boy having a shortcoming of any sort, "A shortcoming well remedied, seeing as I'm still here." You chided lightly in spite of the heavy tension. You pitied your staff in this moment for having to watch this battle of wills.

"Sometimes husbands lie to… protect, their wives." She struggled to find the right words as she regurgitated what Namjoon's father undoubtedly told her one too many times. Misery loves company, and goodness, did she want you to be as miserable as her.

You returned her fake smile two fold before speaking, "That's lovely, but I don't need protecting from my husband, I need trust, honesty, respect." The final word made her back straighten, "I'd like to live in reality with him, not be shielded from it, but I respect what you wish for your own marriage, but this is what I like for mine." 

She hummed in faux thought, "Very well, I can leave you to reflect on what marriage should be, you're still so young." You fought the urge to roll your eyes, "However, you're not that young…" This was a new addition, "When will I be receiving a grandchild?" 

Your brows furrowed. Namjoon told you she took the news of no grandchildren quite well. He told you that she was informed of your no children rule mere days after you spoke the words. The radio silence on the topic of children each time you met with either of his parents confirmed much for you, and you had even found yourself quite proud of him for standing his ground with you. Surely, his parents are not nearly old enough to be so forgetful.

This was the first question in a while that made you falter, and you could see the satisfaction she gained from it, "Grandchildren? I'm unsure what you-"

"Namjoon told me the last time I visited him in prison, you wanted to wait for your fifth wedding anniversary before trying for children, isn't that coming up quite soon?" She raised a brow and you felt your heart shatter. 

He lied to you. Again. He lied to you mere moments after you were ready to forgive him for lying to you the first time.

You let out a bitter laugh, "He did now?" She nodded and you shut your eyes for a moment, "It seems I've been made a fool of again." You sighed before looking as confusion crossed your mother-in-law's features, "I told Namjoon the very last time I visited him in prison that I did not want kids, ever."

"You know that's not possible for him, he's a successor." She laughed at your boldness.

"You know that he is an adult man with 6 brothers, biological or not, who will all marry one day, surely one of them will adopt or have a child." She scoffed at this, "I got my tubes tied years ago." This wiped the smile off her face.

"Does Namjoon know about this?" She snapped and you nodded with a bitter smile.

"He accompanied me to the appointment for moral support." You shot back.

"Well, your tubes can be untied and-"

"No." You deadpanned.

"No?" She mimicked in disbelief.

 "If Namjoon requires a child, he will also require a new wife." Your voice was cold and you watched shock settle into the woman across from you, "With his habit of lying coming to light, he may have to find a new wife regardless."

She stood, "Don't be-"

"Please, do not waste your breath on orders I will not be following." You held your hand up to silence her.

"I'll call Namjoon, he can talk this out with you, so you can see things our way." She tried to sound reassuring as one of your staff rushed to see her out respectfully when you did not budge from your seat.

You stayed seated at the mahogany table, staring at your wedding ring. You didn't want to get a divorce. You loved Namjoon, more than anything, and yet, did he love you more than anything?

----

You're not sure how long you stayed there, questioning everything, but it was enough time for Namjoon to come home. He ripped the door open, eyes searching frantically, ready to make sure you had not already left him before his eyes landed on your figure. From there, he took his seat across from you at the table and waited until he could no longer take the silence.

"Are you going to say anything?" Your husband's voice was calm, although fear was evident in his timbre.

You sucked your teeth and shrugged, continuing to look at your freshly manicured nails, "What's there to say?" Your voice was short, as if you were already tired of the conversation before it could even start, "You lied to me."

Your husband dropped his head into his hands and sighed, "Junebug, I'm sorry, I-"

"You embarrassed me, again." You look at him for the first time all night with a sharp glare, "Are you trying to find an excuse to divorce or do you just not care about me?" 

"Neither!" His head shot up and he met your eyes with deep regret when he realized you were looking at him with the anger and hurt he found you with all this years ago, "I love you, more than anything-"

"Obviously not!" You snapped, "Do you have any idea how it feels to explain to your shitty and judgy mother in law that, in spite of what her precious son said, you had no plans to have children, that you got your fucking tubes tied?!" Namjoon sighed, either in shame or pain, "Were you just hoping that would come around? That I'm such a fickle woman that I don't mean what I say?" 

His brows furrowed, "No, if I thought that, why did I let you get your tubes tied?!"

"Let me?" Your voice was mockingly soft, "You let me, huh?" You cocked your head slightly and he closed his eyes in frustration, "How fucking charitable of you, my sweet husband, master of the fucking house, to let your dumb little wife make a choice for her body!" You stood, "How considerate of you to play supportive husband only to fold the moment your mother asks you a question-"

"You know what my duty as the only son is!" It was his turn to raise his voice, but he immediately regretted it as he saw your eye twitch.

"And you knew my stance on kids before you got out of prison." You seethed, "You know why I don't want a fucking kid, nor do I plan to fold on my stance, because I'm all I've got left there." Namjoon's mouth parted slightly before he pressed his lips together.

"It's not my fault you don't want a kid because you'd be a bad mother just like your own." The words left his mouth before he could even begin to consider the repercussions. He was about to open his mouth again to back track wildly, but it was far too late as you took a step back, the weight of his words being too much to take from across the table.

He watched hurt consume your irises for only the second time in his life, the first time being mere hours before you left him for years, before you made him promise to never betray you like that again as a condition for you to come back to him. A condition that he evident did not adhere to in your eyes. "Do you want to know what made my mother such a bad mother?" He watched as the embers of rage within your eyes were only stoked by his reflection in your pupils, although he could see a thin layer of moisture begin to build up, pain, "You know, like I would be?" Your words were almost mocking as he stayed eerily still, "An unsupportive, isolating, and shitty sorry excuse for a fucking husband." Your word hit him like a truck.

Unsupportive. Isolating. Sorry excuse for a husband.

You weren't wrong right now. He felt shitty. He knew he should've just stood his ground. His parents didn't matter if it meant losing you, "I didn't mean that, what I said about-"

"You're right." A tear fell and he felt his heart shatter, "So if you want a kid, it'll have to be with someone else."

"I don't want anyone else, I never have!" He made his way to you as you weakly stepped back, "You're all I need." His voice was soft as he went to grab your hand, but you pulled away.

"You said that last time." Your tears were beyond your control as you wiped at them in vain, "You said that mere days before you told your mom that we were going to have kids and you told me your mom took the news well." You sniffled, "You lied to me, I can't believe that you lied to me and let me just walk around like a fool believing you, again!" 

He was stunned silent again. You were right. He had lost his back bone under the strict gaze of his parents and folded under pressure. He betrayed you, and all he could do was hope for your forgiveness.

You shook your head as he remained mute, "I need some time." You went to walk past him and to the door but he engulfed you in a hug, "Namjoon!" You struggled weakly to pull him from you but froze when you heard a sniffle.

"Please, don't go." He begged as he held you close, "I can't lose you again, I'm so sorry, please."

You fought sobs from escaping your mouth, "You lied to me, and your mom-"

"I'll kill her if you want me to." He spoke and your blood ran cold at his tone. He was serious, "My mom and my dad, I'll tell them we're not having children and if they can't handle that, they can leave us alone or die."

Your eyes were wide, tears frozen in time. Namjoon loved his parents. He was always a kid intent on surpassing their expectations, and he had made that clear to you when you started dating in highschool. You were his only sign of rebellion. He was intended to marry a woman from an affluent family, but he met you. You had figured that would be where his rebellion ended, but here he was, handing his parent's hearts in your hands and awaiting orders.

"Joonie, y-you can't mean-" You sputtered to reason but he only held you tighter.

"Or even if you just want me to kill them, I will, with my own hands of course, nobody else can know." His remained headstrong in his resolve, stroking your hair, "I don't care what I have to do to keep you with me." He kissed the top of your head, "You are the only person, the only thing on this Earth that matters to me I cannot live without you." 

A sick, and extremely twisted part of you wanted to call your mother-in-law and say, "Hah!" You wanted to rub it in her face that her son, in spite of everything, chose you. Her precious boy has been yours for years now. However, your sanity slipped through the cracks as you shook your head again.

"You love your parents." You shook your head as you cried into his chest, "And if you felt that way, why would you lie to me?"

He sniffled, "I was weakened, not 100% sure you would truly accept me with open arms and I panicked when they asked." He sighed, "I know it's pathetic and I know I seemed like I knew we would make it, but I didn't know that. They never brought it up after that so I naively thought they would forget and when they asked me again, I would tell them the truth and-"

"You're so stupid." You cried harder into his chest and felt him nod, "If you're scared to face your parents, tell me, and we'll do it together." You were surely ruining his dress shirt, but he stroked your hair soothingly, "Your mom has been calling me a shitty wife for years and after today, she must truly believe it, and I-I should take some time-" Namjoon held you, arms sliding down your body as he got down to his needs and you felt your heart drop, and you gasped, "Stop, don't-" 

You tried to help him up but he grabbed your wrists as he looked up at you with tear stained cheeks and eyes as wet as yours, shaking his head at your frantic protests as he kissed your hands and your wedding ring tenderly, "I can't lose you again." His voice was weighty with sorrow at the thought of you being away from him, "You matter more to me than my duty as a successor does, than my parents do, even more than this whole fucking business." He rubbed his cheek against your hand in desperation as you stood frozen from the shock of Namjoon begging on his knees with the utmost humility. The most powerful man in the city, undoubtedly the country as well, was on his knees crying and begging you to stay, "If killing my parents is what I have to do to prove it, I will. Name how you want it done, when you want it done, and I'll do it." He was dead serious and he could tell you knew it as tears spilled onto your cheeks even more, "You're a better wife than I deserve, and all I can ever hope is to be even a fraction of the husband you deserve, and I'm sorry I've been missing the mark." This made your face twist in pain, regret. Namjoon, up until today, had been nothing short of perfect, and even now he was making up for it, "Almost losing you nearly killed me, and-and I get that sometimes people need time to calm down but I would just prefer you beat the shit out of me instead-"

"I didn't mean that either!" You cried out as you sunk down to your knees to hug the sobbing man before you, "You aren't a sorry excuse for a husband, you're just a goddamn idiot, and I didn't want time I just didn'twant to see your stupid face because I was so angry." You laughed as he did for a moment, "Above all else, you're an amazing husband. I love you, always have, I just hate when you lie-" Your voice in his ear was like heaven as he felt a weight lift of his shoulders.

He grabbed your legs to wrap around his waist before you could properly settle onto your knees. He held you close and he soothed your cries, "I haven't lied to you since, I can promise you that." He sighed and you scoffed, "You don't have to believe me. I'm just asking you to stay with me so I can prove it over time." 

"I'm...I'm not leaving you." You sighed into his neck before he pulled you back to trap your lips between his as he kissed your with a vigorous passion. When you returned his kiss with an equal amount of desperation, he began to stand with you in his arms before promptly laying you on the couch, never detaching his mouth from yours the whole time.

You settled into the velvet cushions as he ground himself into your sex, making you gasp, "I love you, my darling." He murmured into your mouth while one of his hands slid your dress up and your panties to the side before brushing his fingers across your pussy and groaning at your wetness, "Oh fuck, you're so wet, baby." His mouth went to your ear as you moaned, threading your fingers into his hair, "Was it me promising to kill for you or me getting onto my knees that did it, hm?" He rubbed slow circles over your clit and you gasped, "You get off on me spilling blood for you? You get wet by me demeaning myself to keep you right here, where you belong?" 

"Yes, daddy, I do- fuck!" You clutched his hair harder as his finger slipped in and your hips wiggled impatienly, "Just fuck me, I don't care about being stretched, fuck me." 

Too desperate to even hesitate, Namjoon undid his belt, ripping it from his trousers as he secured your wrists within the leather garment, as he had done many times before. He undid your belt as he pushed your arms up and his pants down with his boxers. He slid into you with a deep groan that you matched with a wanton moan. He fucked himself into you feverishly, wasting no time in chasing your high as his nimble finger went down to stimulate your clit, "I love you so fucking much, y/n." He groaned as he felt you tighten, "I don't care who I have to kill to prove it, I'll even let you watch the light drain from their fucking eyes if it means you'll stay with me." 

You moaned out as he whispered gruesome threats to the outside world intermingling with sweet nothings as he held the belt around your wrists,using it as leverage to fuck you harder. If you were sane, you would not be getting closer and closer to orgasm as he cursed the rest of the world into painful deaths just to have you as his wife, but here you were, clenching around him and opening your legs further so he can go deeper, "Shit, I'm gonna cum!" You cried out, arms going over Namjoon's head so you could pull him down to you by the neck and kiss his lips messily.

His hand went from your clit as he wrapped his arm around you to hoist you up and slam himself into you further, "That's right baby, cum for daddy and I'll give you my cum." He cooed in spite of the strain to keep himself from busting you before you get your release. His words only threw you over the edge as you climaxed, hurdling him into his own. He fucked his cum into you like always and you moaned lightly until he was done.

He held himself inside of you as you both gained your breath again, exchanging occasional kisses, "You don't have to kill them, you know." You spoke finally "Although, I won't be so cordial with their bullshit anymore."

He nodded, "I'm by your side, Junebug, forever and always." You smiled before kissing him.

"And I, you." You hummed blissfully.

"We have everything we need between just the two of us, I promise." He smiled against your kiss while you nodded, "You'll be the only one calling me daddy for the rest of out lives- hey!" You smack his chest lightly as you both laughed blissfully, letting the seriously twisted shit that just transpired be a simple part of the past.

"Your mom is a bitch." You giggled tiredly as he chuckled.

"Don't worry about being nice to her if you don't want to, I have my priorities straight." He gave you another kiss that you returned with glee.

As he was cleaning you up, your hazy mind allowed you to feel smug at the fact that you just saved your shitty in-laws from certain death. You were their ticket to life. You were their precious successor's priority. You were his only true love.

Namjoon watched with nothing but love as he tucked your sleeping form into bed. Thinking on it now, he doesn't know if he could even stand the idea of you loving a child as much as you loved him. He enjoyed his monopoly over your affection, and a child would only throw a wrench in that for him. Taehyung liked kids, Jungkook seemed like a family man, maybe even Hoseok if that new girl he's saying is as serious for him as he says. All it took was one kid to carry on the business, so you didn't need to worry your pretty little head about it.

All you had to worry about was staying by his side and all he had to worry about was being a good enough husband to keep you there. He kissed your forehead as he held you closer to him, texting his mom the next time she disrespects you or his marriage, there would be consequences. 

You were the only person he needed. He would do anything to make you understand that. 

The ticking of the clock was nowhere to be heard as you laid in Namjoon's arms. You snuggled into him as you caught sight of the thinly veiled threat he sent to his own mother on account of your feelings. He was yours just as much yours were his and the victory of it all had never tasted so sweet. His heartbeat was all you could hear, steady, loving, and to the beat of the drum you commanded. 

You both wouldn't have it any other way.

Masterlist

If you enjoyed and are able, please support my ko-fi!

[jadelynlace]

ink drinker / Modern Vikings AU, Ivar x F!Reader, Chapter 3

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

author’s note & content warning: mentions of depression, self harm and suicidal thoughts; all pertaining to Ivar, not reader. mentions of therapy, medication and past history of self inflicted & blooming trauma. please read at your own risk. my messages are always, always open for anyone who may ever need a listener. anything in italics indicates a flash back. there are so many fucking feelings in this chapter that I just, am apologizing now. but there’s smut!

✎

It was gloomy the morning you remembered finally catching a glimpse of Ivar’s scars. Adorned and nearly smothered by him in his bed, the small snores from him somewhere draped across your skin, traveling over the plains in warm boulders. You were always drawn to the artwork on his limbs, there was always a smaller detail you missed and found within your next search but through the endless gazes you finally caught sight of the jagged white flesh. The since healed lacerations and your medical knowledge took full force of your mind. They were scars, they were healed scars, but they were scars from the straight edge of a razor blade. With such precision and such aftermath you knew they were the scars with one intent within their making. And they were there to tell you the secret horrors Ivar had not yet spoken—that there was a point where he felt his heart should no longer beat, and his lungs should no longer fill and that his life was meaningless. And that he should end it.

*

“Can I ask you something?” You finally find yourself mumbling; words floating through the cabin of the parked ambulance on stand by. Hvitserk’s coffee halfway through to his stomach when you peep in such a meek voice he almost coughs the molten liquid back out.

“Yeah, of course, Y/N,”

“How bad is Ivar’s depression?” And you simply ask. No foreword to the speech, no coating of sugar or dusting of fake joy. As blunt as you had been trained to voice the death of a loved one to their family. “I saw the medication in his cabinet, and I saw the scars on his wrists. I know it’s none of my business because he’s your brother, but…” and you can’t find a lie to justify it. Not ready to spill to your partner about the times Ivar had spilled into the condoms with you.

“Bad,” Hvitserk says, and just as bluntly. “He…he tried to kill himself in college. I don’t know if you’ve noticed how he’s never available Saturdays from eleven to noon, but that’s when he has therapy. I had been trying to convince him since high school to see someone, and Floki finally got through to him not too long ago,” He adds. “When I got that phone call from mom that he was in the hospital—I felt like such a failure, Y/N, because I knew it was coming and I did nothing to stop it,” Your hand goes to his wrist for a second, a quick squeeze of added support as you listen.

“Sometimes people refuse what’s good for them, Hvitty,” You start. “You should know that—how many times have we explained to someone why they should go to the hospital with us, but they still refuse?” He finally cracks a smile at that. “Do you think he’s in a better place now, mentally?”

“Either that, or he’s just stable. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Ivar doesn’t like to talk about his feelings…”

“Wow Hvitserk, I had no idea,” You tease, nudging him with both your elbow and sarcastic tone as the voice on the radio fills into the cabin. Your stand by is over and the conversation is dropped as you leave the scene.

*

There had been instances where you think he might be ready; he might understand that the new gifting of your relationship status might help him to realize you aren’t joking when you offer to listen. You’d listen to Ivar talk until he ran out of things to say if it came to that. More times now the words perched themselves on his lips, ready to spring forwards but he keeps pulling them back. He keeps swallowing them because they’re mixed like bile and stew and far too gross, far too un-human for him to even want to try to speak them to you. And then Ivar kicks himself for drowning these demons who have started to learn to swim and he sees you in your uniform and remembers that nothing phases you. You watch open heart surgery on the television while you eat his mother’s lasagna without a care in the world or a realization that what you were doing is unusual. 

“Can I talk to you?” Ivar says bluntly, sitting like a cowered dog in the living room and you’re hardly through his front door when he asks. You can feel how your head rises slowly, a quick snarky word to come back but you bite down on your tongue so roughly you can taste blood as you just look at him. You have never seen a man of his stature try to look so small, try to be so invisible. Worry comes to your face just as quickly as the next breath passes through your diaphragm and you’re on the couch before you even take your shoes off. “It’s messy,” He finally admits. Shallow and dead and you can see the broken boy that has tried to hide himself through the bulked muscles and the tattoos; the glare through his blue eyes and the curved lip.

“Most of what involves the human body is messy, Ivar,” You find yourself saying back, and it sounds pathetic to your ears. It sounds like you’re trying to tell the parent of a dead child that you know how they feel but you don’t. And you never will. But Ivar shedding this skin for you feels like you’re walking through the motions on a call, eyes from crowds of people crawling over and stuck on your every move. And every move that comes next like they’re watching a soap opera with their dinner and they’ve disconnect that what is happening is real, it’s someones life. Just like how you have to disconnect. But in this moment it’s Ivar, and you’re present. 

“Like paint,” Ivar mumbles next. 

“Yeah, like paint,” You repeat and there’s a smile on your lips for a second. “Ivar? You don’t do that anymore, do you?” You finally find the courage to ask.

“No,” Ivar says as he glances down at his right hand’s wrist, shoving the skin next to the sweatshirt he’s wearing as if rubbing it on the gray cotton will make those scars dissipate. “I get tattoos instead,” That causes a sick button to click in your consciousness as to why Ivar is so heavily covered from his shoulders to his ankles in artwork. How the sting of the needle dawning the creations reminded him of the blade he tried to use to make the mess of thoughts fly away. To make the demons come free through his skin and leave him with peace, if only a moment. 

“What helps? What helps you stay present?” You ask. Ivar blinks far too many times, sorting through his brain for the answers as if it’s a container of memorabilia that’s so unorganized even his mother can’t stand the sight of it.

“My brothers help, sometimes,” He says. “I think about how devastated my mom would be. I think about Floki. I think about all of the people in my life who say they want me here even when my mind is trying to tell me I don’t deserve to be.”

“I want you here, Ivar.” You say back and catch how he looks at you when you admit such.

“Why? Have you seen yourself, Y/N? You could have anyone you want and you choose me…” The sentence breaks your heart but you now know the darkness the climbs between his ears. The seed planted so long ago in the depths of brown ground somewhere and you want to pull it from the mental garden. You want to rip the roots right from the soil and burn them so they never have a chance to infest any farther.

“No one makes me feel the way you do, Ivar,” Are the first words from your mouth. “You make me smile, you make me feel important—you remind me how to escape. Even on the worst possible days I can have, you bring me back to reality.” You want to tell him how he’s addicting, how there’s a quality to him you can’t articulate but always keeps you coming back. How you want to keep coming back because both your mind, and your body know it’s safe. How he was someone so mysterious from the outside but past every highly built wall is a man who is just so simply himself. “Because you’re you, Ivar. With the bachelor’s degree in calculus, and the copious amounts of tattoos, and a heart of gold that…you forget that you have,” You finally add. “You’re someone different to the rest of the world, but you’re the real Ivar around me,” You worry that the silence that over takes him is a sign of something else. A sign that you spoke too much, again, and scarred him for more than he could withstand. And then he smiles. 

But you can’t understand why—why he smiles for someone like you. The one who let him design your first ever tattoo to his heart’s content. The one who has the same twisted sense of humor. The one who will bicker back and challenge him. The one who gets to see him fall apart between your legs. The one who makes him hard, and has him make those noises. The moans, the heavy panting and rasped groans as he bottoms out and moves through you. The one who gets to watch how his eyes snap shut, and his mouth drops open when you clench around him; how his entire back tenses when he’s close. How he holds you as he fills the rubber with everything he has. The man who loves your nails trailing on his skin. The man who smothers you every night that he spends with you, and every morning when you wake and he’s still there. Making you coffee and cooking you breakfast. How he knows your takeout order from your favorite places, and your work schedule. What food to have at his own apartment, and what movies he should have on demand. The spare clothes he keeps there for when you come over after work, ready to take the ambulance grime from your skin. The pads that are in his bathroom closet, the painkillers. The bottle of “girly white wine” that he won’t admit to drinking too, because it is damn good wine. The man who knows to check in with you during the day, and again to make sure you really are alright. The same man who knows if you don’t text him back, you and Hvitserk have gone knee deep into either a bullshit call, or a tragic one. As shocked as you were that he was listening to what you were saying—and taking it to heart—you were stunned that you hadn’t caught on to how obvious it was that Ivar was in love with you. Even with all of the time you spend crammed between your own thoughts.

“There’s a lot to sort through,” Ivar says again.

“That’s okay, Ivar,” You remind him, your head resting on his shoulder and you feel him shift, move his arm to encompass you as you curl against his side.

“You smell like bleach,” He softly laughs, his nose deep against your hair and you snort, reminded of the decontamination duties you were gifted from the calls today.

“Better than Hvitserk, who got puked on,” You reply. “Shower?” And you can feel Ivar nod against you. 

His hands don’t move rapidly to shed your clothing, or to shed his own. There’s a certain calmness through his motions as he waits for the water to warm, slipping your polo from your shoulders, and planting his lips in its wake. Against the base of your neck, your spine, hugging your body flush against his in front of the mirror. Your eyes catch sight of his hands coming back around you, squeezing your breasts and you can’t stop the moan that crawls from your mouth. The traces of artwork on his fingers as his lips move from your neck, to the shell of your ear and graze your pulse point. There’s a push from your backside against his groin, and Ivar growls in response, humming not far after as you feel how his cock hardens the farther his hands roam.   

Down your sides, your abdomen, swirling through your folds and dipping between them to catch your juices. Circling against the bundle of nerves he knows so precisely and you moan twice as loudly, and he does too as you moisten to his fingers. Your hands move to grab at him, anywhere they can and you find one hand holding his neck and the other wrapping around his length. Your nails crawl to his hair, pulling the locks down as his fingers take to moving quickly, spreading your womanhood and arousal and you suddenly can’t wait much longer to have him. And he can tell by how you whimper, whisper to him about how you want to feel him inside of you and there’s no fight anywhere on his body to try to deny the tone of your begging. Ivar’s eyes catch yours in the mirror as he finally pushes into you, the cold porcelain sink calming the heat of your skin as he bottoms out and rests his body against yours. There’s a sinful moan that comes through his lips as his eyes bore into yours, with the squeeze from your walls and warmth you spread through him and at first he can’t move, he only wants to savor it. His eyes finally close as he slips away from you, pushing in once more as your body rocks to the sink, singing back to him as the steam from the forgotten shower starts to fog against the mirror. Your name is through his lips as he moves, tattooed hands coming to find yours as he moves your body with each thrust, each timed sensation and you feel your own orgasm approaching. His mouth open on your ear, eyes screwed shut between love and ecstasy as his breath tickles down your face and you’re close now, far closer and far faster than you’ve ever been

“Ivar—” comes your voice and there’s only a hum in response, wordlessly pleading for you to let go because he’s got you, and you know that. Your knuckles white washed against his as you finish, shaking against the sink and you miss how Ivar’s eyes watch you unfold. Studying the pleasure laced in your features. 

“Where, baby?” He says quickly, and you shudder as you remember he’s bare now, condom long since forgotten but there are still the small pills you swallow. Still working somewhere you know of, but the accuracy decreases when you take them irregularly—and there’s a big part of your life that calls for that to happen. The alarming lights and loud tones. But you know that you’re safe. With Ivar you’re always safe.

“Inside,” You finally say, his hips stopping to starve off the inevitable as he waits for you to be sure, as he waits to see the seriousness on your face so he knows you aren’t lying in the heat of the moment. And you have to say it again for him to start up again, remind him that you have a safety net. The sensitivity in your cunt melts as he keeps moving and you can tell another orgasm is starting to build. Ivar reaches from your hand quickly and starts his fingers against your clit, quick circles as you hear him get louder, feel his other arm move to crush you and you catch his face as he finishes. The sight searing in your vision and colliding with how he moves with you and your second release rolls through you. His seed spilling and you both moan, his lips still plastered against your ear and you can feel the shake through his whole body as he floats back down. The tense in his thighs pushing you against the counter. There’s a whimper next from him, as he stills, wrapping tightly to hold you there, like it was all a dream he doesn’t want to wake up from. 

“I love you,” You hear him say against your skin and you’re right there to repeat it back to him. “You don’t have to mean it,” He then tries and you already know what he’s doing.

“I do, Ivar,” You say back, trying to make him look at you through the mirror but his eyes are still closed. He slowly slips from you, his release sticking between your thighs as he slides away and you’re only then able to turn in his arms. Reaching forwards to pull his mouth against his. “I love you. You and me Ivar, against the world,” You say and he hums at that, a small snicker not far after. 

“I like how that sounds, baby,” His smile comes next, dopey and boyish as he finally looks into your eyes and understands that you don’t doubt any part of him. You love it all—the good and the bad and the evil things he may think about himself. You love them all because you know he feels the same way when it comes to you. “The hot water’s going to run out soon,” He mumbles as he holds you. And standing in the shower is not much more different, still wrapped up safely in his arms as you both feel the troubles melt down the drain.

Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @victoria-styles @queen-sarang   @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @youbloodymadgenius @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa @walkxthexmoon  @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @love-all-things-writing @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @quantumlocked310

*please message me to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series are welcomed, as well as feedback!*

full masterlist can be found here.

[twistedtranslations]

Rook Hunt - The real culprit is... you!

You can unlock this story by getting Rook’s SSR Dorm uniform

Translation under the cut

Rook calls Epel “himeringo”, the Japanese word for plumleaf crabapple. I shortened it.

As we know already, Epel sometimes slips in his country accent, hence the weird wording.

Chapter 1

Courtyard

Vil: …8…9…10! Next up is the camel pose. Push your chest out and lean your upper body backward. Hold your ankles with your hands and keep that pose.

Everyone: Yes!

Epel: Ugh… Rook…

Rook: What is it, monsieur Crabapple?

Epel: I came to help with the shooting of the next work of the cinema studies club, but… Argh! Why are we doing yoga… Ugh?

Rook: Epel, you know, it's because we wanted you to take part in relaxing activities. If people relaxed, they will become more flexible mentally, and more active in discussions and communication. Yoga is the best exercise to improve your blood flow, metabolism and it soothes your mind. Moreso, your posture and physique will become much more beautiful! That's why Vil does yoga before his cinema studies activities.

Epel: I, I see… Is there…. An easier method?

Rook: By the way, Epel. You should bend your back more if you want to call it a camel pose. Okay, I will help you out and pull your arms back!

Epel: Eh, no, I'm fine- OUCH!!!!

Rook: Hahaha, monsieur Crabapple, you're body is quite stiff.

Savanaclaw Student A: Hey, look, it's the guys from the cinema studies. What a weird-looking pose is that! Man, I'd be way too embarrassed to wriggle like that in front of everyone.

Cinema studies Student A: Why are you guys butting in suddenly? This is just yoga…

Cinema studies Student B: Leave it be. Those muscle brains from Savanaclaw wouldn't understand our graceful bodybuilding.

Savanaclaw Student B: Huh? Are you picking a fight!

Rook: Oh please, there's no need to get angry! Why don't you join us? We can polish our beauty and deepen our friendship with yoga!

Savanaclaw Student A: Who'd do that! Beauty won't fill your belly. C'mon, let's go.

Epel: … friggin' irritatin'. Rook, I don't know how or why you could invite those guys…

Rook: I thought they might understand the benefits of yoga if they did it. How regrettable. Oh, me of all people! While I was talking, I forgot to help you out. My bad, let's continue.

Epel; Um, no, I don't need it… OUCH!!!!

Vil: Epel?

Epel: Ah… Vil.

Vil: I thought I heard a crushed frog's ugly cry, but that was my imagination, wasn't it?

Epel: Ugh… I'm sorry, I'll pay attention to it.

Vil: Rook, I think there will be no problems if you are by his side but… If anything happens, I hope you will "properly" discipline him. Not only does he lack in manners and aesthetics, but many other facets as well.

Epel: Is… that so?

Vil: Didn't you get frustrated when the Savanaclaw students reprimanded you? Do not involve Pomefiore in trivial arguments. Understood?

Epel: Understood…

Vil: Rook. If Epel quarrels with other dorm students during the shooting period… I will expel you two from the cinema studies- no, the dorm.

Epel: … I'm only here because you asked me to help.

Vil: Did you say anything?

Epel: Nuthin’- I mean, I said nothing.

Vil: In any case. Please refrain from idiotic behavior that could tarnish Pomefiore's name.

Rook: Oui, Roi du Poison. Leave it to me!

Cinema studies Student A: Those three seem to get along well as usual…

Cinema studies Student C: Epel and Rook are amazing. Leaving out the fact that they're from the same dorm, they can talk to Vil so casually. Perhaps I'm still too nervous because I saw him on the TV and in magazines before I entered the college?

Cinema studies Student A: Right. They're amazing for being able to to talk with him without constraints.

Interior Hallway

The next day

Epel: Ah, Rook.

Rook: Hello, Epel. You're here early.

Epel: Yes. My class finished early…

Students: Congratulations!

Rook: You guys too… We are the most enthusiastic people in the club today.

Classroom

Rook: Vil isn't here today because of work, therefore I will instruct you on the activities…

Cinema Studies B: … Is something wrong?

Rook: La vache (Oh the cow)… how terrible. Look at that.

Epel: Argh! Vil's clothes are torn into pieces!?

Cinema studies Student A: And it's not only his clothes but also the photo sets on the wall…

Everyone: !!

Epel: The heck, what are those weird words written in red…

Rook: "A defective beauty"… It must be a message from the one who tore up the clothes. Fufu, this is quite a case… And a direct declaration of war on us!!

Chapter 2

Classroom

Rook: Fufu, this is quite a case… And a direct declaration of war on us!!

Epel: Is there anyone in the cinema studies club who’d tear up his clothes with ill intent…? Who would do that…

Cinema studies Student A: Hey, those marks on those ripped clothes… Don't they look like they've been made by sharp claws?

Cinema studies Student B: Claws… Then this could be the work of the Savanaclaw students. But why would they…

Cinema studies Student A: … Could it be those guys from yesterday?

Epel: Do you mean the ones who made fun of us..?

Cinema studies Student A: Yeah. The guys from Savanaclaw said it then, right? "Beauty" won't fill your belly.

Cinema studies Student B: So a Savanaclaw student with a grudge from yesterday wrote a message on the wall and tore up Vil's clothes?

Epel: If they didn't like it, they can face us up front. This is cowardly.

Cinema studies Student A: Epel, you are a good person. Even though you aren't part of the cinema club, you still get angry for us.

Epel: I ain't forgivin' them for goin' behind our backs… I mean, we cannot allow them to do this.

Cinema studies Student C: Yeah. We won't stay quiet about these precious clothes being destroyed!

Epel: Yeah! Let's search for those guys from yesterday and have'm complain to our face!

Everyone: Yeah!

Cinema studies Student A: Hey, wait everyone- ... And they went.

Rook: Oho, everyone seems very passionate.

Cinema studies Student A: Rook, are you not following them?

Rook: The sadness of losing such a beautiful thing stunned me for a moment.

Cinema studies Student A: … I see. I'll stop Epel and the others.

Rook: Oh my, to be in such a situation on the day Vil isn't here. Or to be more precise, "because he isn't here". Moreso… "A defective beauty". I should solve this case before Vil returns. 

Rook: I should investigate to see if I can find evidence that links to the culprit. Let's start at the place where the fabric was torn. …As I expected. It's not a scratch even though it resembles one. They used 25 cm long scissors with 9 cm long blades to cut it. From the angle of the tears, I can guess that the culprit is right-handed. They held it with their left hand by the torso and used their right hand to cut from the shoulder to the waist with the scissors… 

Rook: The culprit is probably around 168-172 cm. That narrows it down a bit! Fufufu…  Even though I've experienced the hunt for an animal's traces many times, it still elates me. Oho, I can't let myself get carried away. I have to concentrate on the investigation… … Aha. I see… Fufu, I have deduced the animal. Now it's hunting time!

Courtyard

Savanaclaw Student A: Shut up! We didn't do it. Who gives a shit about your clothes!

Epel: If there's anythin' you wanted to say, tell 's up front instead of harassin'… you're so unmanly, senior.

Savanclaw Student A: What!?

Cinema studies Student B: If we cannot agree and don't progress then… We will have a duel!!!!

Savanaclaw Student B: Hah, come at me. I don't think you culture boys will be much of an opponent though.

Everyone: HAAAAH!!

/Fighting sounds

???: Stop it!

Savanaclaw Student A: Huh…

Cinema studies Student A: All our magic was swept away!?

Epel: Rook!?

Rook: Turn your magical pen in, everyone. It's forbidden to use magic for your personal struggles. Besides, you’re in the wrong by blaming them. They have nothing to do with what happened.

Epel: Huh…

Savanaclaw Student B: Pf! You got us involved in some weird stuff. We did nothin' so we're off.

Cinema studies Student B: … How foolish! If they didn't do it, then please tell us who did such a horrible thing!

Rook: The cause of this tragedy is deep love. The real culprit is… You!

Chapter 3

Rook: The cause of this tragedy is deep love. The real culprit is… You!

Courtyard

Cinema studies Student B/Epel: Huh…

Cinema studies Student C/D: No way…

Cinema studies Student A: …

Cinema studies Student B: He can't be the culprit, Rook! He's the costumer of the cinema studies club!?

Cinema studies Student A: That's right. You saw it, right? That "A Defective beauty", what a disgusting and criminal declaration!!

Rook: Yes, I saw it. That felt out of place. As the Savanclaw students said, they don't only not care , but even negate the very existence of "beauty". Despite that, do you think they would use an eloquent expression like "Defective"? While I was thinking about that, I inspected the garment that seemed to be torn apart by claws carefully.. And followed the clues to you.

Cinema studies Student A: Why… Me?

Rook: The scratches on the garments. They were cut by scissors in the shape of a beast's talons. And by examining the traces of your cut, I could deduce their height and their dominant arm, which happens to concur with yours. And there's more evidence. What I hold in my hand right now is a piece cut from the garments… Look at the lining?

Epel: The lining? What's wrong with it?

Rook: It's loosely sewn. This garment hasn't been used once for a photoshoot, and it's not the only part that doesn't harmonize well on the camera… Vil is the kind of person who strives for perfect quality from the fabric to the sewing and the accessories. He wouldn't have let this shoddy tailoring pass.

Epel: Um, so someone tore up the garments of the cinema studies club. But it was a fake, and not the real one…? I, I'm confused.

Rook: He hesitated at the moment of the crime when he was about to tear Vil's clothes, so he replaced it with a fake. The essential part is that the fake was made intending to fit Vil perfectly. There are only two people besides Vil that know his measurements exactly. The first one is me. And the other one is…

Epel: The costumer… who is in charge of taking his measurements?

Cinema studies Student A: Ugh…

Rook: I suggest you don't make more excuses now. Won't you tell us your reason?

Cinema studies Student A: I-, I did it because… I was jealous! You and Epel get along great with the esteemed Vil!

Epel: Huh! You think we're getting along great? The only thing he does is scold me though…

Cinema studies Student A: That's plenty! I admire Vil, studied what he likes, and devoted myself with all my might to the cinema studies club! Even so, I never got any closer to him since I enrolled! So I tried to make you two fight the other dorms…  and have you expelled from the cinema studies club.

Epel: Well ain't you a peach…

Cinema studies Student A: … I'm sorry for causing an inconvenience to everyone in the club. I'll take responsibility and quit the club.

Rook: Quit the club? Non!! That would be outrageous, my dear costumer!

Everyone: Huh!?

Cinema studies Student A: W-Why…

Rook: This case. His love for Vil created and destroyed it. Thus… Love only won't make you able to finish a piece that can be mistaken for the real thing. The way your fingers assembled this with thread and needle, it's actually beautiful. If the cinema studies club were to lose a talent like yours, Vil wouldn't be pleased. Your atonement will be your contributions to the club.

Cinema studies Student B: It's just as Rook says. You are the best out of us at dressmaking, if you weren't here it would stump us. Come on, let's go back to the clubroom. Let's repair this garment before Vil comes back from his work!

Cinema studies Student A: ! Y-Yes!!

Rook: Okay! That settles one case.

Epel: Rook! That was splendid. You are so observant, to tell it's a counterfeit just by the seams.

Rook: Ah. That was a lie! No one hand-sews anything these times. They all use a sewing machine. You can't see that with the naked eye, right? It was a trick.

Epel: Huh… Huuuh!? Then how did you know it was a fake?

Rook: Fufufu, the truth is much simpler. Smell. The counterfeit clothes didn't have a single atom of the characteristic and unique mellow fragrance that Vil has, so I knew immediately.

Epel: What!? That investigation method is kinda… gross, you know?

Rook: Listen, Epel. I regard the information you can get by smelling highly, as it's useful for hunting. You can know the places one visited or in this case, the person's characteristics, by the traces of their smell. For example… sniff sniff. What you had for lunch today-

Epel: Argh!? S-Stop this!

Rook: Hahaha! Just kidding. My nose isn't that good either.

Epel: I thought you were amazing like a detective, but… maybe you're really just a weirdo.

[otomegema]

title: Convergence Theory, ch. 2 pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: You are a lesser family member of the Gojo clan, so far removed you don’t even carry the name, but you carry the Limitless ability and thus the potential to be a bride to the future head of the clan— a fact you patently reject at fifteen. Twelve years later you are a second grade sorcerer struggling to obtain first grade status when the object of your deepest objections offers you a deal. rating: mature tropes: fake dating/engagement, rivals to lovers, slow romance Link: Archive of Our Own

It had been a logical move to allow Gojo to take down your number, entering it into his contacts with an obscene amount of heart and wishing star emojis by the brief glance you caught over his shoulder. It looked like he was already banking on your acceptance of the deal, but when you parted, your to-go sushi in a small plastic bag, you hadn’t expected to hear from him until tomorrow evening at the latest.

Or maybe even never.

But now, back in the hotel you were being comped for while in Tokyo, you wished silently that you’d never given that man your cell phone number.

Honey

Baby

Future-pretend-love-of-my-life

Have you made a decision?

He wasn’t human. It was barely 6am, did he wake up this early for lessons every day? You groaned, nearly swatting the phone off the nightstand in the dark.

You shot back a fast reply.

-oh I’m sorry

-I’m still recovering from getting electrocuted the other day

-Some asshat led a curse to me

You rolled over, managing to get at least another decent half hour of sleep in before the phone chimed again, lighting up the darkened hotel room.

\(★ω★)/

YOUR asshat

Should you choose to accept this mission

You threw off your covers, forcing yourself up to sit against the stack of pillows behind you as you tapped out a reply.

-My pretend asshat

-Mother will be so proud

The dots of his reply began immediately.

So is that a yes?

You sighed, rolling your eyes to yourself.

-Day isn’t over -Hasn’t even started tyvm

The dots began. Stopped. Began and stopped again, this time not reappearing. You tossed your phone onto the bed and teetered up and over to the coffee maker. The pot was finishing brewing by the time your phone chimed again.

You’re so slow.

The addition of punctuation and the sudden lack of emoji seemed almost like a warning flare that Gojo’s patience was waning. But you hardly knew the man and really, what did you care? A favor for a favor was what he offered. You didn’t owe him anything.

I have other options too.

His text continued and for a moment you frowned, wondering if his intention was to have that sound like a threat. You felt heat rising in your throat— he didn’t want to play that game.

So no pressure. Genuinely.

Oh. Good. That was better. You felt the tension uncoil as fast as it had grown.

Tho I AM your only hope for advancement <3

You could have thrown the phone right through the wall. Your thumbs worked rapidly, shooting out your reply in no time.

-Ah yes, your finest quality

A quick appearance of dots.

My special grade ranking? (･ω<)☆

You smirked.

-Humility

You’re no fun.

Text me when you are done being boring.

This was probably the most you had ever spoken to Gojo, despite having seen him on and off from a distance for the better half of your life. He was hard to miss. Every event at the main house would have him and his immediate family at the forefront. No one ever stopped talking about Gojo Satoru and his accomplishments and his strength and his skill as a sorcerer.

It was nauseating, having to pretend to nod and smile like it was all some great blessing just to orbit near him. It was bad enough he read like a sun to your abilities, as if he needed to be made to think he was anymore of the center of the universe.

Your palm itched. The desire to tap back a response now, a firm denial, very strong. But not stronger than your excitement at the possibility of being a first grade sorcerer. It was everything you had wanted. Prestige, recognition, tougher missions and the pay and rewards that came with them.

You were no weakling. Sure the telemetry technique took you out of commission, but it was hardly your greatest feat. You had finally been able to manifest the cursed technique lapse, blue. Granted, it was a one off and exhausted you so fully afterwards that you nearly fainted on the spot… but your tolerance was getting better. The precision of your manipulation of your cursed energy would never be on par with Gojo, but you could, some day, maybe even manage to shoot the technique off twice.

Reversal Red was next to impossible. And Hollow Technique? Truly impossible. The Six Eyes was needed to even attempt it. Most of your practice had been devoted to perfecting your long distance teleportation skills, fine tuning your telemetry technique and working on establishing your domain. That one was easier. The Unlimited Void crushed your opponent beneath an overload of sensory information, information you could easily channel and tap into with your own unique skills as a Limitless user.

But like all things, you were only second best. And barely. It was a joke. Comparing yourself to Gojo. He was on a level you could never achieve— unless.

You grabbed your phone, hastily dialing the new number and wincing at the loud, cheerful greeting from the other line.

“Good morning, moon of my soul, tenderest heart, darling—!“

“I haven’t even said yes yet, you monster.”

“Ah! A name of my very own? Be still my trembling heart!”

“I wish to make an amendment to the agreement.”

There was a lengthy pause. You could practically hear the slow spread of that sly smile. Content as the cat who caught the canary.

He knew he was about to win.

“Let’s hear it.”

“If you are putting my name forward for first grade, that means you have someone else in mind to be the second backer and someone in mind for me to shadow on missions and train with, yeah?

“I do.” Gojo said, his tone surprisingly serious.

“Have them put my name forward instead. I want to shadow you.”

Gojo laughed, a short mirthless thing, “What makes you think I have the time?”

“You have enough time to play pretend, I’d think any fiancé would leap at the chance to be with his lovely wife-to-be and keep her safe.”

Gojo hummed.

“Why me?”

This was an oddly familiar conversation.

“Purely selfish reasons. You are the best Limitless user. I am a Limitless user. I want you to teach me.”

“You aren’t on my level.” He said, no malice in his words, just simple facts.

“Then teach me what I can handle.”

There was another pause.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you’re my girl.”

The bare utterance of the endearment sent a shiver up your arms and not an entirely pleasant one either. His girl. God, how would you even begin to explain this fake engagement to your parents? Who knew the depth of your jealousy and bitterness over Gojo since you were— what? Five? Younger?

“Since I am just your ‘pretend’ girl, I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Your funeral, babe.” Gojo said, “But I’m glad we resolved this early! Because we are having dinner. Reservations are made, I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear something pretty!”

Your words caught in your throat, stuttering across your tongue and unable to force out before the line cut off and he was gone.

You pressed the edge of your phone to your temple, already feeling a headache coming on. Something pretty? Shit.

-Something pretty? -Too vague. I have no idea what I’m supposed to wear.

A dress! Something for the evening. A Line.

V Neck def

Show off what puberty gave ya (＾〃＾)

Chiffon with ruffle lace

And grey-blue

-Why?

To match my eyes <3

-Where in the world do you expect me to find that specific dress in the next few hours

Downstairs with hotel staff I had it dropped off <3 <3 <3

-That’s creepy

(つω`｡) </3 </3

-Enough with the hearts -How much? I’ll pay you back

It is a gift <3

-How’d you even know my size

A gentleman never reveals his secrets

┐(‘～` )┌

You sighed and set aside your phone to call down to the front desk. Sure enough, a few minutes later someone brought up a large white box, tied with a grey-blue ribbon. You set the package on the small counter in your room’s kitchen and opened the lid, brushing aside soft tissue paper.

The dress was ridiculously soft, made of fine, nearly translucent layers of chiffon. It was a lovely color, the sight making you suddenly think of the feeling in the air before a thunderstorm, the smell of rain. The ribbon matched.

You looked for a price tag and found none, but folded away at the bottom of the box was a hand written receipt. You paled at the figure displayed on it.

-Gojo, I can’t possibly accept this.

Don’t be stupid. No one would believe I was serious about a woman unless I was positively spoiling her rotten. s’not like it broke the bank!

-Forget the first-grade rec

-Pay my bills

Too late! Negotiations are closed :)

-So what the hell am I doing at this dinner?

Eating Duh and being seen with yours truly easy peasy right?

You sipped your coffee, keeping the mug well away from the dress. It was certainly nicer than anything you had ever owned in— well. Ever. It was hard to argue that there were clearly going to be some additional perks to this arrangement you hadn’t previously thought of.

Plus we gotta go over some ground rules

-Thought you said negotiations were closed

-This mean we can revisit my bills?

g2g

Students need me!

Ttyl babe

The ease in which that man showered you so soon with endearments was nauseating. Had he ever even had a girlfriend before? Or just those usual moon-eyed women who fawned and petted him?

And now everyone was gonna think you were one of those girls. You drank your coffee faster, relishing in the way it burned down your throat and overpowered the bad taste in your mouth.

“First-grade… first-grade. Remember the first-grade.”

And training. You’d squeeze every possible benefit from this arrangement out that you could. Sorcerers worked in teams, but at the end of the day, it was every man and woman for themselves.

Let them think what they want when you were seen tonight. You would come out on top.

***

The day passed quickly and you found yourself standing in front of the hotel mirror, twisting back and forth to get a feel for the movement of the dress— and half practicing staying upright in the heels that had arrived not even a moment later.

They were high enough to be appealing, but low enough to keep you from falling over on your face. Gojo had texted an explanation that he figured you were out of practice in wearing anything other than sneakers and combat boots and to consider them training wheels.

You’d wanted, once again, to punch him in the face.

The kind of girl he liked was a stilettos kinda girl, you guessed, huffing to yourself as you sat down and twirled one of your ankles, stretching the muscle. Even the low heels were not entirely comfortable, but you’d manage.

Checking your makeup one last time, you picked up your own worn purse and slung it over your shoulder. Women who wore these kind of dresses and came in on the arm’s of other men and women like Gojo never had anything more than the smallest clutch— but you weren’t those women.

You made your way down to the lobby and were surprised to find a chauffeur waiting outside with a very very sleek European car of some kind. You weren’t great about those kinds of things, only noting the seats were made with soft black leather and there was even a divider built in like in a limo to give the passengers privacy.

The chauffeur ushered you into the empty car and you sat back with a sigh as silently he delivered you to the next destination. You had, in some small place, hoped Gojo would already be present.

Why he felt the need for such spectacle was beyond you, but maybe this was what was expected of a clan family son when he courted a young woman. It felt— weird. Nice, but weird. The drive was not overly long, the car coming to stop.

You knew this restaurant. Some fancy French-Japanese fusion place that charged a hundred dollars for a single plate with a broiled pear covered in wasabi or some weird shit. Already you felt your stomach churning with anxiety and encroaching regret.

This was gonna suck.

This was gonna suck so bad.

The chauffeur opened the door and you barely managed not to wobble on the pavement. Feeling stilted and exposed as other guests and couples regarded you with open curiosity and veiled judgment.

Clearly they were used to seeing the same people come and go from this restaurant and you were not one of them.

You clutched your bag tighter to your arm, hand reaching inside instinctively to find your phone and text Gojo you were out. This was over. Find someone else— when your surname was shouted from the door.

All eyes turned as if in sync to Gojo, wearing simple trousers and a white shirt tucked in. He didn’t even have a tie or a jacket, his dark glasses obscuring his eyes even as he looked right at you.

A few people tsked their disapproval, but they may as well have been ghosts for all the attention Gojo paid them. When you didn’t immediately make your way over to him, Gojo shoved his hands into his pockets and strode over to meet you.

He grinned, the lowering of his chin and the slow rise back up an obvious indicator he was sizing you up and didn’t care if you knew.

He whistled.

“Ow, ow!”

“Shut it— you know this dress could cover my rent for half a year?! And these shoes! I could buy a used car with this ensemble.”

“You even drive?”

“Not the point.”

He laughed again, loud and careless.

“Figured since you were dawdling you might need an arm to lean on.” Gojo said, offering your his elbow without removing his hands from his pockets, “Or perhaps…”

He feigned a gasp, “Are you feeling shy?”

“I’m leaving.” you deadpanned, managing half a turn before his hand was on your waist, turning you back. He took your hand, the feeling of his palm on your side still burned into your skin as he hooked your arm in his own.

You allowed it, leaning on him only a little. He looked pleased, smugly so, as he led you inside and to a table that was already set for two.

There was a wine glass sitting by your own plate. The one by Gojo’s was turned upside down and set to the side… a can of soda sitting, bright and out of place, in its spot.

“… where did you even get that.”

“Vending machine.” Gojo said simply and even kicked your chair out a little for you to take a seat. How flattering.

“Wine is for you, if you want it. Figured it might help take the edge off.”

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to wait for the server to return and simply tipping the bottle of red into your own glass.

“What about you?”

“I don’t drink.” He said, cracking the tab on his soda with a loud pop. Several eyes filtered your way, whispers behind hands and napkins as Gojo all but drained the can in one gulp.

“So— ground rules?” you said, unfolding a cloth napkin and settling it in a half folded triangle across your lap the way you saw other women doing.

“Straight in, huh? Alright. Terms.” Gojo lifted one finger, “As already discussed, you and I will be ‘courting’— dating. Whatever the fuck. I’ll take care of arranging the dates, you show up, act sufficiently smitten and in about a year give or take, we break up.”

Gojo lifted a second finger, “Two. In exchange, I have two first grade sorcerers who will back your promotion. And, as requested—“ Gojo’s voice dropped a fraction, almost grumpily, “—you’ll come with me on my missions for your first semi-grade probation.”

“Now ground rules. At any point either of us wants out, it’s done. No questions asked. But don’t think that means you get to ditch and just keep that first grade appointment. I’ll make sure you end up right back at a grade two.”

You sipped your wine, giving your mouth something to do than form some very choice words at that moment. Gojo noticed, his smile almost a snarl, but the expression quickly vanished. You had a funny feeling trying to hoodwink or swindle him would end very poorly for anyone.

“And when you develop feelings for me—“

“If.” You amended quickly, but Gojo ignored you.

“—when you develop feelings for me. You have to tell me and again, the engagement is over. You can keep your rank. No harm no foul. I can hardly blame you for falling for me.” Gojo said with a wistful sigh. You were grateful for the arrival of the first course, forcing you both to fall silent for a moment until they departed.

You had no idea what was on the plate. Some kind of salad? It was hardly a mouthful. Gojo didn’t even touch his silverware and feeling less than impressed with the cuisine, you didn’t either.

You drank your wine.

“Barring sickness or injury you are required to appear for every date I set. Including the ones where you have to meet other members of the main family.”

You frowned, but didn’t object.

“Wait— what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Is the engagement off when you develop feelings for me?” You said lightly, trying to play off your smile as wistful.

Gojo scoffed, his reaction almost enough to hurt your feelings… just a little bit.

“Non-issue. I don’t do feelings.”

“God, you sound like a fuck boy.” The words came out before you could stop yourself, the last syllable off your tongue right at the moment the server had returned to reclaim your plates. An eyebrow was raised and you hid your face down with a flustered cough.

By the time you looked back up, you got the joy of seeing Gojo staring at you from over his glasses, a broad and deeply amused grin on his face.

“Not non-issue. If I get the feelings rule you get the feelings rule. End discussion.”

Gojo shrugged, again not touching the newest course which was, to your extreme annoyance, some kind of grilled pear.

“You should slow down.” He warned in a sing song voice as you poured another glass.

“I’m not a baby— okay. So we got terms, we got ground rules. Anything else?”

“You can’t refuse my gifts.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply and he simply smiled and hummed with a shrug.

“It’s for appearances! Oh. Speaking of appearances—“ Gojo sat up, fishing something from his back pocket and sitting it on the table. You stared at the simple black box, fearing a vein might burst in your forehead at any moment.

“What is that.” You stated more than asked.

“Open it.” Gojo said, his voice light and encouraging as he nudged the box closer, “Come on, open it. Open it. You know you wanna, sweetie, light of my life, fire of my lo—“

You snatched the box up if only to stop him from finishing that sentence.

You swallowed hard, the sounds of the room fading out as you flipped open the box and found, sitting upon a small satin pillow— a… key?

You lifted it from the box, noting it even had a little custom keychain made to look like a white cat with a tiny blindfold.

“It’s to my apartment!” Gojo announced with a giddy laugh, clasping his hands together in a way that was entirely un-adult like.

“… I have my own place. Thank you.”

“In Kyoto. This is here, in Tokyo. Where you will need to stay for this all to work, remember?”

“Where will you stay?” You asked dryly, vaguely hoping his answer would be something other than what it was no doubt going to be.

“Very funny. You’ll have your own room—if you want it.”

“Why—“ your voice nearly broke and you had to take a moment to clear it, “Why uh— why wouldn’t I be wanting my own room?”

“Feelings are off limits, naturally. But if you want to take me up again on that offer from back in the day…”

The surge of cursed energy that rippled off of you was so strong Gojo nearly toppled backwards, his laugh gaining a somewhat nervous lift to it if only for just a moment.

“I’ll have my own room. My own locked room.” You bit out, feeling your face flushing hot and hating every second Gojo seemed to be enjoying your utter mortification, “Unless that is a problem.”

“Nope. Not at all. Probably for the best ultimately, I’ve been told I have a bad habit of dickmatizing folks.”

“… I’m sorry, you what.”

“Dickmatizing! Ya know. Like hypnotizing but with—“

“I got it!” You groaned, pressing your face into your hand. When did it get so damn hot in here? You snatched up your wine glass and finished off the contents, feeling even hotter.

“Is that all?”

“Unless anything comes to your mind, then yep.” Gojo finished, ignoring yet another course. You were almost tempted. The dish was some kind of meat, but the sauce drenched over it smelt sharply of something bitter and sour at the same time. You stomach recoiled at the thought and yet rumbled in protest to its growing hunger.

“So what do you think?”

“You’re disgusting?” you said flatly.

“I meant about the deal.”

You glowered openly at him. It was going to take a lot of practice to turn that deprecating expression you felt naturally pull unto your face at his sight into something loving and tender… but for first-grade ranking? For lessons on your Limitless? Fuck. Fuck you’d do it.

You poured the remainder of the bottle into your glass and polished it off in one shot.

“I accept.”

Gojo clapped his hands together, “Excellent! Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Huh?” You barely managed to get the questioning sound out before Gojo was up and out of his chair. You scrambled up, head rushing with the wine and the weirdness of this entire conversation. By the time you managed to catch up with him, he snaked out his arm and wrapped it around your waist, pulling you flush and warm against his side.

You about threw him across the room, but your attempts at a grapple were thwarted by the sudden thrumming of the familiar Neutral Limitless ability, stalling your moments to such a small speed you felt suddenly frozen.

The impulse to toss him passed and instead you let him escort you outside where the car was still waiting.

“Take us to the place, ya know the one.” Gojo said to the driver and in a surprising show of gallantry, actually held the door open for you to get in first.

“And open the back window. If she throws up, I’d rather it be on the pavement.”

You elbowed him in the chest— accidentally of course.

***

The car drive was a bit longer, taking you away from the glitz and glamor of this side of Tokyo and to what looked arguably as one of the most hole-in-the-wall noodle joints you had ever seen. The street kitchen was small, the counter open outside with a few bar stools. The smells of teriyaki and spices and cooking oils were heavy in the air and made your mouth water.

Gojo perched on one of the stools and you came to sit alongside him, watching as he ripped open a set of chopsticks and rubbed the splinters off.

He ordered quickly—yakisoba and yakitori. Along with several packages of mochi they kept behind the counter in the same kinda plastic bags you’d find at a convenience store.

Gojo had been right— you should have slowed down. The world had a light haze to it… a slight tilting. His hand on your back felt massive and overly warm as he guided you back to sitting straight.

“Eat, ya lush.” He ordered, piling noodles and chicken unto a smaller empty plate for you from his own, “C’mon.”

Gojo popped one of the mochi bags and dumped the sticky sweet confection right on top of your yakisoba. You grimaced, picking the sweet off and trying to wipe some of the sauce from it before you took a generous bite.

The food was greasy and delicious and abundant and cheap and your mouth was in heaven. Even having not used your Limitless since yesterday, every taste still felt heightened. Maybe it was the way your cursed powers tried to compensate from the wine, but everything somehow was more delicious.

You attempted to snag another piece of yakitori from Gojo’s plate, only to have your chopsticks blocked with a clack.

“Ah ah ah— hands off.”

“What’s yours is mine, right?” You chided, only to be dodged again in a movement faster than your eyes could perceive. Did he just use his Limitless to counter you? Feeling emboldened, you activated your own, the faint pulse of the energy so close together giving you the sort of deflecting feeling one experiences when holding two sides of the same magnet near together.

Repelling, shifting. Trying to shove the energy into a way that the two forces would collide rather than deflect.

You were concentrating fully. The minuscule movements invisible to even your eyes, but the feeling was there. A sort of blindsight where you didn’t need the Six Eyes to tell you what was happening— but it would have definitely helped. You flicked a glance up and lost your control, your chopsticks shooting away and nearly cracking one in two.

Gojo chuckled. It was the expression on his face that had distracted you. His eyelids were half dropped, his smile soft as he readied himself to deflect you again. Your energy was no match for his… but it matched. It was made of the same stuff. Controlled the same way. He could see, with the sharp clarity of his Six Eyes, every tiny precise movement you made with your cursed energy. A mirror of his own abilities in miniature.

He was playing with you. And all the sudden you felt as if a small knot in your chest had shaken free, the coil coming undone.

Was there anyone else on this Earth you could do such a thing with?

Feeling strange and suddenly shy, you drew your energy back in and refocused on eating from your own plate, grumbling at your loss.

A second later, Gojo’s chopsticks moved over your plate, dropping another helping of noodles in.

A small concession. A victory in it's own right, even if it had not won the yakitori.

“Sober up, will ya? But don’t eat too fast. I’m not cleaning up vomit, no way, no how.”

“You’re always so vulgar.” you murmured, speaking around a mouthful of noodles and mochi. Gojo turned and stuck his tongue out at you. A confirmation or a reprisal, you couldn’t be sure.

But regardless, it did something to you he had never managed to do before.

It made you laugh.

[silky-stories]

Just a Bad Day (Corpse and Friends/Reader)

Genre: Light angst, Fluff, sort of Platonic but you could take it otherwise

Words: 1628

Related Songs: PETIT BISCUIT - Sunset Lover https://youtu.be/wuCK-oiE3rM ZYAN, Sia - Dusk till Dawn | slowed https://youtu.be/7LLKAL6ERDA

Summary: (Y/n) has a bad day and her friends are suspicious

Disclaimer/s: Depressive episode, slight anxiety, big sad :(

Notes: I left out what it was that made the Reader upset so you can let it be whatever you want :)

———————————————————————

"(Y/n) you're fine, you don't even have your webcam on today, you'll be okay." Rae teased you softly, getting a couple chuckles from the few people that had joined the Among Us lobby a bit early.

She had overheard your quiet mentions of being nervous and having your webcam off, both due to the fact that you had a bit of a hectic day and didn't have time to make yourself presentable. It didn't bug you that she responded with a joking tone, she wasn't aware of the tear streaks that framed your cheeks and red, puffy eyes you just couldn't hide with the high quality camera you have. She didn't know, no one knew, how were you supposed to be mad about that?

"Ha ha, yeah... guess you're right." You plastered the most fake smile you've ever made to your face to at least make it sound like you were happy. Thankfully, it seemed to work as the conversation moved on without you.

Less fortunately, your fans were a little more perceptive, although you should have expected that considering that some of them watched you on a daily basis. Your chat was filled with near exclusively kind remarks, from a modest 'Are you alright?' to full on paragraphs that passed by a bit too fast for you to get through more than the first few words. You muted yourself in the discord chat so only your audience could hear you, reassuring them that you were fine, no matter how much your broken tone betrayed you. It didn't work as well as you wanted, but that wasn't their fault.

Soon enough the whole gang was together and ready for the game to start, they sounded excited. It was nice to hear that your bad mood hadn't leeched onto your friends, that was the last thing you needed right now.

A deep sigh came from your mouth as you saw the red lettering fade in and off of your screen, "Dammit..." You weren't ready for an imposter game, you were sort of hoping that you could go a whole stream without one actually. Even worse, Corpse was your partner, which meant you'd end up dragging him down with you.

The game began, the layout of the Skeld loading in and the colourful avatars of your friends scattering to do their assigned tasks. You did yourself a favour and didn't move right away, giving yourself a second to take a deep breath and at least attempt to put some effort into doing a good stream. Your fans deserved it, they were all so nice and had been so supportive, they didn't need to be worried about you.

Unfortunately, when you did move, your partner had unknowingly sabotaged the reactor the second before you did anything, making it look a lot like you sabotaged it yourself. It wouldn't have been a problem if Toast hadn't been passing by the second you did. You went to kill him, but since you were both right next to the emergency button, there wasn't anything you could do in time.

The pit of anxiety in your stomach only grew as the animation flashed across your screen, you didn't even know how you were going to defend yourself. As the voting screen came up you only felt worse, no one had even died yet, so you were going to be the first one out on the first game. Great.

"So (Y/n), did you just sabotage reactor?" Toast piped up the second he had the chance.

You were silent as everyone did their played up reactions for the camera, trying to use that time to think of something. It didn't work to say the least.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Your words didn't sound even slightly convincing, not to mention the tired tone of voice you couldn't seem to get rid of that did nothing for you.

Before Toast could get too far into his rebuttal, which didn't really matter after your lame defence, your partner piped up.

"Hey Toast, was anyone else near you guys?" His low tone said nothing of his intentions, you were jealous.

"No, it was just the two of us in cafeteria." He responded, not sure where Corpse was going with this.

"So, technically speaking, it could have been you and nobody would have seen it except for (Y/n)?"

The gasps that followed in response to the new idea were small, but promising nonetheless, even if they were more as a joke than an actual response. It was because of that fact that you were so surprised when the vote ended up being skipped, only two people actually voting for you, one of them being Toast.

You felt a twinge of relief, maybe you could still win this, maybe you could actually have a good night to make up for the terrible day you had.

...

It hadn't even been a minute when you accidentally killed Toast in front of Poki and Jack.

As the meeting started, you tried to say something but you just couldn't seem to get any words in by the time everyone had voted except for you.

"So (Y/n) first and then Corpse?"

You didn't even know what to say.

"C'mon (Y/n), just vote, it'll all be over soon."

What was there to say?

"(Y/n)?"

Why were you taking this so hard?

You quietly clicked on the checkmark to vote for yourself as fresh tears began to spill over your cheeks. You hadn't said anything during the meeting and, seeing as your avatar was now floating through space, you wouldn't be able to say anything now. Useless...

Your chat was going crazy now, flooded with concerns and kind affirmations directed towards you. Your gaze drifted over them mindlessly, not taking anything in, it just looked like a big white blur.

By the time you shook yourself from your dazed state, Corpse's avatar was just finishing it's trip across the screen, floating hopelessly through space as yours had mere minutes ago.

The defeat screen only hammered in how stupid your mistake was as it came and went, just as everything else had without any input from you.  The conversation picked back up quickly, jokes and teases were exchanged, you couldn't even make out what they were saying until the attention was put on you.

"You okay (Y/n)? Not feeling too into it today?" Toast's remark was clearly a joke, just a little jab to get a chuckle like usual.

Unfortunately, you weren't feeling like usual tonight.

"No..."

It was almost pitiful how broken and sad that one word came out. Your voice had even cracked as you spoke, you figured you must have been just depressing to listen to. If you weren't downright embarrassing you probably seemed like a child for not keeping it together like the others did when they were upset.

Surprisingly enough though, that's not what happened.

"Wait really? Crap I'm sorry."

"Oh no, are you okay?"

"Do you wanna stop playing?"

It was stupid, but for the first time that day you felt okay crying. So you did.

"I'm sorry... thank you..." you mumbled, using your sleeves to wipe your tears, "I just had a really bad day, but I... I still wanna play with you guys I just..."

Damn it, what did you do to deserve friends that cared so much about you?

"I know what to do." Rae spoke up, her grin shining through in her tone, "Group hug!"

Her avatar ran over to yours, nestling herself beside you in a sort of makeshift hug. Everyone else followed suit shortly after, and soon enough you were in the middle of a little circle, fitting perfectly in the middle.

A small sob-like laugh broke free from your lips, "Damnit, you guys are the worst." You joked with a smile, chuckling at the childish but heartfelt display.

The night only got better from there, and even though you weren't at your best, everyone was even nicer than usual and it helped to turn that bad day into a pretty enjoyable night.

After about an hour you decided to stop your stream, deciding to cut it short for the sake of your mental health.

"Yeah I think I'm gonna get going too." Your farewells seemed to spark a response from someone else.

"You too Corpse?" Jack piped up, somewhat confused as he hadn't mentioned anything earlier about doing a shorter stream.

"Yeah, I got some stuff to do, don't worry I'll still be playing with you guys on Friday."

"Alright, well see ya both later!"

"G'night!"

"Have a good sleep!"

"Feel better soon (Y/n)!"

You sighed gently as you disconnected from the discord call and the Among Us server, leaving your audience with the usual 'Stream Starting Soon' screen that you didn't feel like changing.

"Well, that's about it for tonight." You spoke, taking a minute to read the chat silently before continuing, "Thank you guys for all the support, I know I didn't say much tonight but I read a lot of what you were saying, it's really appreciated."

A buzz came from your phone, you picked it up and smiled at what you saw.

Corpse

[ hey, wanna talk? ]

You said your goodbyes to your chat and shut off the stream, grabbing your phone and heading straight to your room. You hadn't even made it to your door by the time you were dialling your friend's number. Flopping down onto your bed, you put your phone on speakerphone and felt a warmth fill your body as a familiar voice filled your room.

"Hey."

"Hey." You responded, turning to your phone even though neither of you could see each other.

You supposed today wasn't so bad after all.