#the one that has to deal with the guilt is yours truly. as per usual. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imagineimpact · 3 years ago

Note

Could i request Diluc angst oneshot where reader and him get into a big disagreement or argument where Diluc makes them cry and feel really bad about themself so they go and end up hanging out with Kaeya a bit much cause he offered to cheer reader up and Diluc won't apologize. until he see's his s/o hanging out with Kaeya

I actually wrote 2 different versions of the ending for this, but this is the one I decided to go with! If you want the more angsty version do let me know.

Anyway,

Harsh Words

Diluc x Reader

Screaming. Yelling that could be heard throughout the Dawn Winery residence late into the night, heard only by the maids, the night security, and perhaps a late worker or two.

And of course, by the two individuals who held the voices.

It was rather unusual for the two of you to be at odds; and, on the occasion in which you were, it wasn’t nearly to this degree.

But the two of you were outright screaming at each other. It wasn’t even about one thing anymore - it was everything. Whatever you had been arguing about had reached the point of irrelevance; It never should have reached this point and you knew that, but you were under fire and you couldn’t stop.

All you knew was that this was Diluc’s fault, and that you couldn’t take this kind of argument.

“If you just thought about your actions for once-”

You cut him off, “Oh don’t try me with that, you’re the one treating me like I’m an idiot and trying to control my-”

“If you had just listened for once and been less of a selfish bitch then I wouldn’t have to!”

His words had cut far deeper than either of you had expected, and you physically recoiled at the words, a sudden wave washing over you which forced tears from your eyes. The truth in his words was irrelevant - It felt true, even if it wasn’t.

You turn away from him. In spite of your state, he makes no move toward you. None, not even to give you the slightest feel of any comfort. You knew - he wanted the words to cut through you.

You go to the door and slip on your shoes, leaving the room as fast as you humanly could.

You can’t take this anymore.

But you don’t make it past the front door. As if by telepathy, Diluc has two of his night security waiting by the door in a stance showing you that they’re ready to make sure you don’t leave. They block your path, silent in their menace. When you turn around, only then do you notice Adelinde and Hille quietly staring at you. Diluc’s footsteps down the stairs are a slow horror, an even pace which served to only emphasize that feeling of dread; Very easily, this felt like the perfect time to be murdered.

The drawl of footsteps approach, yet cease a few meters away - he’s far too distant to do anything himself. His eyes lock on yours, quietly assessing you.

“Diluc, let me leave.” You hiss through streaming tears. You nearly choke on the tension in the air.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. His eyes don’t show any expression, show any remorse or guilt, or even happiness. Truly, there is nothing in his eyes.

“Let me make myself clear: You are not leaving this premises in the middle of the night. Do you understand me?”

“Not even slightly.”

Silence. His eyes flicker, the way they do when he sees an abyss mage, or when Kaeya makes a comment that goes a little too far - pure anger.

“Adelinde, fix up the guest room.”

“No need. I’ll be leaving now.” You scoff.

Diluc tilts his head, peering over you and towards his security as if to say ‘don’t you fucking dare let them through’.

Then another look, and you feel yourself being pushed into the house again, the slam of the doors behind you.

A wave of anger washes over you, and you can’t help the excess of tears that fall, harder now than they had been before.

Diluc holds his ground, staring at you silently. You shake your head and look away, not sure what to do with yourself. Their staring puts you in pure disarray.

“Adelinde.”

“Yes, sorry.” She mutters, bowing and taking her leave in the direction of the guest bedroom in order to prepare it for you.

When she’s gone, you shake your head. “I’m not going to be sleeping.”

“Then stay in your room. I don’t care.” He huffs, turning away and wandering back up the stairs, his footsteps seeming less menacing now.

The argument was done.

Your eyes catch a light outside the window, seeming to exist a far distance away. Maybe it was the fire of a hilichurl camp.

What time was it? Surely the sun would be up soon anyway.

Fine. You would leave then, no matter what.

When you got to your room, you actually did manage to sleep. Not nearly enough; An hour was nothing in the long run, but it was still just slightly enough to not feel entirely exhausted.

Still, the sun was up when you arose, and you lay in the bed, uncertain as to what would happen when you left the room.

If Diluc wasn’t going to apologise, you wanted nothing to do with him.

So, after a little while of resting, it was a surprise to hear a knock at the door. You were summoned to breakfast. Nearly the entire time, you and Diluc sat across from each other - an oddity indeed considering he would always insist that he wanted you seated beside him - this time, however, you were as far from his as possible within the confines of the seated table. The usually empty seat felt hard beneath you, not softened by an everyday presence. Your usual seat to his right - where your plate had been placed before you had taken it to where you were now - was empty.

Neither of you could look into each other’s eyes. The silence, broken only by the light clinks of cutlery, felt burdenous.

You expected him to say something, anything really. You could barely eat the food on your breakfast plate, and without any words, you didn’t feel all too comfortable anyway. You let out a quiet sigh and stood up, tucking in your chair and lifting your plate to take it back to the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Diluc’s voice was quiet but the harshness in it was unmistakable.

“I’m not hungry.” You looked down at the plate in your hands. “I’m going to Mondstadt.”

Diluc stood up suddenly, pushing back his chair and stepping close to you. The sudden movement caused you to shutter slightly, and he pulled back a bit. Still, he tore the plate from your hands and placed it on the table. “When you return, be ready to have a serious conversation.”

Oh.

You opened your mouth to speak, but then huffed and turned away. “Right. I’ll look forward to getting yelled at again.”

Diluc scoffed, “Stop acting like a petulant child.”

“I’m not doing this right now, Diluc.” Your feet are moving before you can even think about it. This time, as you approached the door, no one was there to stop you. You left with no present company to watch over you, and you knew that today was going to be a long, long day.

——

Mondstadt thrives with life, as per usual. Because of how bright and pleasant the place is, any spec of gloom is extremely obvious on a day like this.

You took to the adventurers guild to take some commissions. Maybe killing some hilichurls or slimes would take your mind off of it all, or maybe just delivering some needed materials to someone.

The entire time you had been speaking to Katheryn, you felt eyes watching you, but you didn’t want to make it obvious you knew. Alas, it was only moments later that you startled at the feeling of a hand on your shoulder.

“No need to be so surprised.” The familiar voice chuckles beside you.

“Good morning, Kaeya.” You let out a soft sigh, the exhaustion of the day before wearing into you. You thanked Katheryn and turned your attention to Kaeya. His eyebrows twitched and his expression shifted as he studied you.

“What happened?” He asks rather blatantly, eyes clouding over. “Was it Diluc?”

You took a deep breath. “Wanna join me for commissions?”

Kaeya scans your eyes. “As long as you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Come on.” You nod, wandering out of Mondstadt with him.

The slowly falling night brought you back to Mondstadt. You agreed to go to the tavern with Kaeya, a subtle kind of thank you for spending time with you today. It wasn’t like you were doing anything else anyway.

The tavern was already busy before you got there, people crowding around for a nights drink. You subconsciously step towards Kaeya as if shading yourself away from the crowded atmosphere and he is wary of your proximity. He draws you to his side, a friendly notion, and steps inside before you.

Charles waves at you both from behind the counter. Kaeya quickly orders a round of drinks and takes you to a table away from the bar.

“Hey, look who’s been dragged in.” Rosaria wanders over, quietly making soft chatter with you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to spend some time together.

Kaeya eventually wanders away, grabbing your drinks and bringing them back over.

Time seemed to dwindle away, the mindless chatter with your friends giving you more than ample distraction from anything else that might have been happening.

“Master Diluc! Didn’t expect to see you here today.” Charles’ voice rings out.

Of course, that wasn’t going to last long.

You lift your head slightly, tensing up. Diluc is scanning the room, twisting his wrist lightly as he speaks quietly to Charles; The words miss you. You freeze as your eyes lock. For just a moment you’re caught in that discerning gaze before he nods at you and turns back to talk to Charles. Kaeya draws your attention back away, and you slip back into your conversation, not wanting to deal with anything else.

“I’ll get another round.” Rosaria gets up and makes her way through the tavern, leaning over the bar and making another order for the table.

“How many are we on?” You ask, already flushed from the… how many glasses had you even had?

“Five.” Kaeya laughs, leaning on your shoulder. “But now that the killjoy’s here, he’ll stop us from having our well-earned fun.”

“I heard that.” Diluc scoffed, passing by you.

“Good.” Kaeya wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, more out of a delicate affection than anything else. Diluc’s eyes narrow at his brother, who just laughs in response.

“Get your hands off of-“

“Oh don’t worry, brother. I would never keep them somewhere they don’t want to be.” Kaeya mocks. “You, on the other hand, can’t say the same.” Even with his words, he loosens his hold on you and leans back a bit.

Rosaria returns with your round, greeting Diluc casually as she slips back into her seat. Your pissed off boyfriend wanders away back to his work.

It clicks in your hazy mind that the only reason he’s here is likely because you are. You laugh at the thought, then clink your tankard to the group and drink.

—

As the evening wears down, many people in the bar until it’s pretty much only your group and a few others left there. Diluc lets out a soft sigh as he watches you, trying to soften that jealous pounding of his heart. He takes a sip of his own drink - apple cider, of course. He could never slam back drinks the way that your group currently were. Where had the hours gone?

Oh, no. How many drinks had you had? Whatever was next, he swore to himself that he would make sure that it was watered down. At this rate, you were pretty much welcoming alcohol poisoning with open arms.

Kaeya, wobbly as ever, decides to be the one to approach the bar this time (mostly because Rosaria was leaning against the table, head folded into her arms as she groaned). Diluc shook his head. “No, no. The three of you will drink this whole tavern dry if I don’t stop you.”

“Oh, I’m not here to get any more.” He leans on the countertop. “I just want to know what the hell you did.” Kaeya motions over to you. You’re just giggling at Rosaria’s complaining, leaning over and patting her on the head.

“I’m not talking to you about this.” Diluc leans back, crossing his arms stubbornly.

“Suit yourself.” He straights up. “I should probably get her out of here before you say something stupid.”

“I’m not going to be saying anything stupid.” Diluc shakes his head, looking over the list of all the drinks you’ve had this evening. “You’re all wasted.”

“And yet, you haven’t said last call.”

Seemingly to spite him, DIluc immediately does. He signals over to Charles to round up the remaining people. He knew to leave you last.

Kaeya’s laugh is enough to haunt him. “You make this right, Diluc.” He runs his finger over the counter. “Otherwise I will.”

“Get out of my sight.”

The cavalry captain laughs again, then wanders over to your table. He practically drags Rosaria back up, but she pushes away from him and made her own way to the counter - always a good spirit, she paid for her own portion of drinks and left. Being a nun, she probably didn’t need to use the money elsewhere.

Kaeya was two steps away from just carrying you out the door, but through his drunk mind he finds the clarity to understand just how absolutely inappropriate that would be to do, especially in front of Diluc. Alas, you lean on his shoulder as he assists your steps.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Diluc’s voice calls out, as if to stop you both.

“Usual billing.” Kaeya calls back.

“No, no.” You both look back at him. He shifts on his feet, eyes locking with yours. “I’ll be damned if you go home with him.”

“Then damned you are.” You roll your eyes, turning away.

He calls your name softly. “Step away from him. Come here.”

You take a deep breath. “I am so glad I don’t have to remember any of this.”

Diluc places a glass of water in front of you. “Drink this. You wreak of alcohol.”

“And you wreak of your hatred.” You sit down in front of him, knowing that it wasn’t about to get better.

Diluc’s eyes flicker up to Kaeya. “Get out.”

“Not happening.”

“Kaeya, this doesn’t concern you.”

“Their safety is more than enough concern.”

“It’s alright, Kaeya, just wait outside.” You pipe in, not wanting even more stress.

Kaeya agrees, quietly slipping out the door. Charles is told to escort him away, an act which may have varying success.

Either way, you sat in front of Diluc, not sure what exactly to say to him.

“I’m tired, Diluc. I’m tired of this. I can’t put up with-“

“I’m sorry.” He blurts out, interrupting you. “Please, hear me out.”

“I’m not going to remember-“

“Then I’ll tell you again when you will.” He leans over the counter, not wanting to be apart from you. He calls your name again, as if to hold your attention, “Can we talk about this?”

“I think we talked about this already.” You groan. “Yesterday, plenty of yelling. The Maids and guards can confirm.”

Diluc takes a long breath out. You lift the glass of water and take an even longer sip.

Maybe the barrier of the counter between you made you feel better. But, as tears sprung to your eyes, you felt so, so much worse.

“Do you hate me?” You ask, your voice squeaking. “Do you want to break up with me.”

“No, Y/N.” He reaches for your hands, but you had pushed your stool too far away from him beforehand that he couldn’t. He circles around the bar and gently grabs both of your hands, soft enough in his hold for you to be able to pull away. “Don’t ever say that. I love you.”

“Then, why?” You sob, turning your face away from him, hands still in his. “Why did you yell at me? Why wouldn’t you talk to me this morning?”

“I…“ Diluc stops himself, taking a deep breath. “I was angry. We were both angry.” He shifts, pulling out a stool and sitting in front of you. “I wasn’t acting rationally.”

“When you said you wanted to talk this morning, what were you going to say?”

Diluc hesitates, gripping your hands just a little bit harder. “I was going to ask… I was going to ask if you were happy.” He admitted, quietly. “But I can’t do that. I can’t put you through that.”

You tug him toward you, pulling his hands close to your face. “Why would you say that? I love you.” You sob into his soft skin.

He takes his hands away from your gently, slipping them around your waist and pulling you close to him, into his lap. He tightens his grip. “I’m sorry.” He repeats. “I’m so sorry. I never want you to cry.” He feels his heartbeat heavily in his chest, a distraught washing over him. “Don’t ever destroy yourself like this again.” He runs a hand over your back.

You don’t say anything. You’re way too drunk for many more coherent thoughts to pass your lips. You lift your head and plant a soft kiss on his cheek, and he softly kisses your forehead, pulling you back to his chest so that you don’t try to kiss him anymore - He wasn’t about to let that happen, you were far too drunk.

Diluc was ashamed of his thoughts. His guilt, rising only when he saw you in the present company of his brother, showing affection and finding comfort anywhere except for him. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, nor to you, but as you cried into his shoulder, he couldn’t help the wave of disappointment in himself that washed over. Why could he never be there for the people who needed him most?

“Come on, finish your water, let’s get you home.” He insists, though he holds you tightly still until you stir.

You take the water, sipping it with a slight indignance. He would have to apologize to you again in the morning, but he would do anything to get you to trust him again.

(Part 2 here)

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father-time-and-baby-new-year · 3 years ago

Note

M-more armin vs eren drabbles please

WC: 3.2k

Title: Melted Candles

Warnings: possessive behavior, cheating, armin x reader x eren, obsession, unhealthy relationships. manipulator armin & toxic eren.

You’re fidgeting with the hem of your short dress that your loving boyfriend bought you, nursing a drink, and half-heartedly scrolling through your phone.

Sitting on the olive couch alone as the musings of a party transpire, you eye the big and colorful banner sporting the words “Happy 20th Birthday Eren!”.

“It’s like Eren to be late to his own birthday party huh?”

A smooth, gentle voice breaks you out of your trance. You turn sideways to face Armin Arlert, a pretty boy with short-cropped blond hair and wide oceanic eyes. He’s all dressed up in a deep grey turtleneck, navy dress pants, and an expensive Omega watch on his wrist.

You must have looked frightened because he chuckles as he takes a seat next to you, a respectful distance away, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Are you having fun?”

“Uh well it’s a surprise party, it’s not like Eren knows he’s supposed to be here.” You have an immediate desire to slap a hand over your mouth after the words spillover. You wince, not entirely in love with the fact that it was your first instinct to defend Eren.

If you had been more observant, you would have noticed the corners of his lips flick upwards in amusement. But Armin is observant enough for the both of you. He notes the color of embarrassment in your cheeks and continues the subject with ease.

“Ah, yeah. That’s right. Eren hates celebrating his birthday, but they're always a good excuse to get everyone together" He pauses before grinning so wide it doesn't look genuine, "-maybe this is more for us than him.”.

There’s an underlying tension in his words you can’t make heads and tails off. It reminds you of how truly little you knew of Eren's very own best friend.

You smile brightly, channeling all the optimism you could into changing the topic: “Everyone’s trying their best today! Sasha did all the catering and managed to leave the cake perfectly alone even though it’s her favorite flavor. She has the patience of a saint today.”

As if on cue, there’s a commotion in the background. Jean yells at Sasha, “Don’t finish all the lemon-pepper wings Potato Girl!”

Armin laughs and it's a pretty sound, a sound that reminds you of a bell chime. Unconsciously, he shifts closer to you, knees knocking into yours.

“Yeah, you’re right. Connie's even hosting it, and he let us decorate his man cave."

You look at the streamers and balloons, and Armin follows your eyes.

“You did a great job decorating.”

You blush, “It was honestly a team effort. Mikasa did way more, I promise.”

“So humble”, he teased. As he smooths his slacks, your eyes can’t help but fall on the shine of the silver band on his slender finger, an engagement ring.

“Annie couldn’t make it today?” There’s a flash of a grimace on his face but he schools his features right away.

“She doesn’t really like parties,” he laughs softly, “She’s like Eren in that way.”

“Oh,” you paused. He was clearly hiding something but it wasn’t in your place to pry. You didn’t know much about Annie. In fact, you were a little intimidated by her icy demeanor and arctic eyes. It amused you at first when you learned she was Armin’s partner.

Opposites must attract, because where Annie was the cold seeping into your bones, Armin was a furnace radiating warmth.

There wasn’t much more to say with the conversation heading to a peaceful silence, until his arms lightly touch yours, “I’m really glad you came.”

His fingertips graze the sleeve of your dress.

You flush, “Well, I wouldn’t be a very good girlfriend if I didn't come to his birthday party.”

The pretty blond clicks his tongue, “I suppose.” He inhales, thumbs swiping the rim of his glass, “You’re too good for him. Do you know that?”

To say you were surprised would be an understatement. You don’t have a response ready but Armin continues, “I love Eren of course. Been friends with him since we were children but-” Deep sigh, “I feel like I barely know him anymore. No one knows him anymore.”

In a small voice, you squeak “I do.” But the unsureness of your tone made your words seem like it was a question.

Armin smiles, one that’s filled with mirth.

Boldly, he squeezes your thigh, the flesh right below where your dress ends, “You deserve better.” His oceanic eyes seem darker under the dim lighting.

Why weren’t you moving away? Were you letting his hand itch closer to roaming the softness underneath silky fabric?

You swivel your head around, praying no one is seeing anything. Thankfully everyone was too swept up in their own conversations. As if to soothe you, his hands draw circles on the soft pliant skin, “Don’t worry, no one can see us.”

The ring glints harshly. Admittedly, Eren’s soft-spoken best friend is just a little attractive. You didn’t always think to see him this way, but Armin changed, and all the general anxiety he possessed matured into a quiet confidence.

He reminds you of Eren in that way. But still, you're at crossroads here. Is Armin making a move on you? Is he warning you? Should you even be here right n-

Your internal monologue is interrupted by Mikasa clapping her hands, and then putting a finger on her lips, “We’re going to turn off the lights, ok? They’ll be here in a few minutes. When Eren starts coming in, yell surprise.” Armin hand’s leave your legs, the warmth gone.

“Oy, oy, oy. Don’t we need a signal?” Connie asks, confusion apparent on his face.

“Jesus Connie, if you can’t even figure this out, what are we going to do with you?” quips Jean.

Mikasa shakes her head.

Sasha lightly punches her best friend, “It’s okay Coomer, just follow my lead.”

“How will that work since you’re stupider than me?” The hazel eyed boy asks, voice dripping in concern. “Eh?” Sasha replies with an equally concerned tone.

Mikasa pinches the bridge of her nose, “I’m going to turn the light off now.”

Eren would be here soon. You barely register Armin putting his arm around the couch, not around you per se, but the proximity was close enough to send your heart racing.

In the switch of a light, the room was engulfed in darkness and excited giggles that Mikasa promptly hushed. And then was just the sound of breathing. You could hear yours and you could hear Armin’s.

Softly, the blond uttered, “I’m going to do something I’ve always wanted to do.” You could feel featherlight fingers tilting your jaw, and capturing your pillowy lips.

The doorknob rattled. Soon after, light from the hallway trickled in. A still moment. As soon as the kiss started, it ended. A flash of light exploded before your eyes and a cacophony of people yelling Surprise! rang out.

At the center of attention was Eren Yeager, who...did not look surprised at all. His eyes were not even adjusting to the light the way yours was. A tall redhead accompanied him, someone who you vaguely recognize as Floch.

The birthday boy was clad in a white button-up, sleeves rolled to his elbows and the top button was unfastened. His dress pants were slim-fitting and black.

The green-eyed boy’s face was devoid of expression. In comparison to his stoic nature, you thought your heart was going to explode.

Wryly Armin says, “Oh look, your boyfriend has arrived.” As if on cue, Eren’s eyes locked with yours.

At that moment, there were too many things to process.

Luckily, Eren was surrounded by a small crowd of his closest friends. You could hear Jean cackle, “Come on! You’re not even surprised.”

You turned your head to face the boy who took advantage of the darkness, a scarlet blush staining your face, “Why did you-?!”

He gazed at you with shining eyes like he had found clarity, not even bothering to feign guilt. With agility only he had, he took your palm in his, “I know you used to like me.”

Blood rushing in your ears, you tear your hands “What are you doing? Eren’s right there. Don’t touch me.” You hissed, scooting away for good measure.

“You didn’t deny what I said.” The blond pointed out calmly, “Yeager is no good for you. He keeps you in the dark about his life and he’s certainly not loyal..”

“I-I can’t deal with this. I never expected this from you Armin.” You shot up from the couch, trepidation filling your nerves, “Now if you excuse me, I’m going to greet my boyfriend.” You uttered the last word with as much hostility you could muster.

Mikasa had her arms wrapped around Eren. Which was fine. They’re best friends. They’ve known each other far longer than you knew him. He thinks of her as a sister.

He thinks of her as a sister.

You walked over, looming behind them. Most of the crowd had dispersed, with only Eren and the Ackerman girl lost in their own world.

What is wrong with you? You scold yourself. You didn’t usually think like this.

“[Y/N]”

Eren noticed you right away, and Mikasa turned around to face you.

“Sorry [y/n], didn’t mean to take so much of his time from you.” The dark-haired girl smiled apologetically.

You could feel guilt gnaw at you, how could you ever suspect her? She waved to Eren, and warmly thanked you, “You did so much of the planning. Thank you.” And before you could reply, she left.

That left you alone with the man himself. “Hi.” You said shyly. He smirked, “Hi babe. Long time no see huh.”

His viridian eyes slowly roamed your appearance, head to toe. You blushed under his stare as they paused longer than necessary on the dip of your neckline, and the expanse of legs not covered by the silk dress.

“So you did all this?” He teased, vaguely gesturing to the string lights, and hanging paper flowers.

He steps closer to you until he’s just a breath away. “Hardly. Just helped out wherever I could.” You whisper.

He hugs you, his tall frame enveloping yours. You feel so safe, pressed against his chest, as his arms compass the slight of your back.

His cologne is your favorite. Subtle, and intoxicating with thick notes of spice. You sniff something else, something overpoweringly distinct.

Still enclosed in his arms, you look up to him, “Did you drink?”

He takes a step back, still wrapping an arm to your waist, “I met up with Zeke. He offered me a drink.”

“Zeke?” You questioned, “You visited your brother?”

Eren was privy to sharing details about his life and you knew virtually next to nothing about Zeke, his half-brother he came recently in contact with.

He kisses the top of your head, and you can feel the loose strands that escaped his bun tickle your face, “It’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

He keeps you in the dark about his life.

“You were cozying up with Armin on that couch, weren’t you?” His tone is light, containing a thinly veiled accusation.

You laugh it off, hoping he wouldn’t notice how tense you suddenly got, “No, no. We were just talking. I was sure I was going to kill myself out of boredom just waiting for you.”

Snuggling closer to him, you stand on your tippy-toes to kiss his jawline, trying to distract him from wavering thoughts.

“Oh?” He asked, “Armin wasn’t entertaining you well enough? Well, he does have a tendency to babble about nothing.”

As he talked, you had a feeling he wasn’t really looking at you, but rather peering straight behind you.

An uneasy feeling fills your lungs, “Um Eren, let’s head to the kitchen. I can fix you a plate. Niccolo did the catering so you know it’ll be really good-”

The tall boy waved your suggestion away, “Not hungry. In fact, why don’t we head over to my best friend? I haven’t talked to him in a while.” You didn't appreciate the mocking lilt in his tone.

Before you could dissuade him, he was already pulling your wrist so you could turn, hand placed on the small of your back, leading you somewhere you definitely did not want to go.

The charming blond was still situated on the couch but this time joined by a woman who was talking rather animatedly. You vaguely recognized her by her chin-length wavy ash-colored locks. Hitch.

“-Annie is so lucky! Jesus, I can’t believe you guys are engaged! And Marlowe still hasn’t worked up the nerve to-”

Eren coughed, asserting his presence. Two pairs of eyes flitted upwards. Hitch sighed dramatically, “Well if it isn’t the birthday boy. The big 2-0. You’re not a teen anymore Yeager. Think you’re ready for the adult world?”

Your boyfriend, who was never one for false pretenses and small talk, ignored her question entirely, “Hello Hitch. If you don’t mind, I would like to catch up with Armin here.”

The woman rolled her eyes, “Guess that’s my cue to leave.” As she stood up, she looked back and forth between the boys, noting the animosity that seemed to permeate the air as they burned holes into each other.

“Why are the vibes so tense? The energies you two are radiating...is reminiscent of a pissing contest”

Without really intending to, you let out a chuckle, attracting the attention of the three people around you.

Hitch’s eyes softened, “[Y/n], I haven’t seen you in a minute. Let’s go do shots with Mina and Hanna.”

Eren’s grip on you tightened, “She’s staying right here Hitch. Enjoy yourself though”

“Funny, I don’t recall asking you. Your girlfriend can’t speak for herself?”

“Uhm, thanks for the offer Hitch but no thank you, I’m not really in the mood to drink right now.” You chuckle nervously, flashing a big enough smile that will ascertain that everything is okay.

Hitch shrugs, “Suit yourself”, and proceeds to walk away.

“Well, I suppose I have to thank you for driving her away. She’s quite...talkative.” Armin breaks the silence. He addresses you both but his eyes are trained on you, “Back already [y/n]?” An easy smile spreads across his face.

You don't look at Eren’s face to gauge his reaction, but you notice how the hand around your waist squeezes almost painfully. The boys stand up to shake hands. Armin gestures for the two of you to sit but the dark-haired boy waves it away, “We prefer to stand.”

The blond gazes between the two of you questioningly but seemingly accept Eren’s response, “Okay then. Guess I’ll stand too.”

“Where’s Annie? Trouble brewing in paradise?”

Armin’s smile hardens, “Don’t know how you’d assume that. She’s just not here.”

Unease pinpricks at you. You could feel trepidation in the air.

“What a shame. Doesn’t Annie like me?” Eren taunts before delivering a line you didn’t expect, “I recall a time where she liked me much more than you actually.”

Surprise is an understatement for how you feel. You didn’t even want to register the implication of his statement. Did Eren and Annie have a past? You lightly touch Eren’s arm in a hint of a warning, “Eren-”

The blond shakes his head, “You’re really something else, you know? Talking about another woman so brazenly in front of your girlfriend? Are you projecting your insecurity onto me since you know” he tilts his head in your direction, “[y/n] liked me first?”

You fluster immediately, jaw-dropping slightly. It was true. You did have a rather big crush on the intelligent blond boy who sat next to you in a class that bored you to sleep. But there was nothing between you two beyond a handful of platonic study dates from when you were freshmen!

Too many moving variables. He was dating Annie and not being the homewrecker type, tried to squash the interest you had. Besides, you were planning to drop that class anyways, and in a twist of fate, it was Armin who had inadvertently introduced you to Eren.

Also, how did that damn Arlert know and why was he bringing it up today of all days?!

Your boyfriend sneers, “Does that really matter when she’s with me? When she’s dating me. And. Not. You.” He punctures the last words out.

“Uhm, I’m right here-” You finally find your voice, “And I’m not really comfortable with being discussed like this.”

Armin’s eyes find yours, “Of course. Sorry [Y/n]. It’s super disrespectful of me-”

Eren cuts in with words heavier than bullets, “Shut the fuck up. Always desperate to play the white knight in shining armor aren’t you? Your duplicity makes me sick.”

As if sensing an oncoming attack, Eren pivots away from you, creating some distance.

Armin closes the gap between himself and the dark-haired boy and bunches Eren’s collar in his fist, “You don’t know how to treat people, you know that? So full of yourself that you think basic decency has an ulterior motive.”

Eren’s eyes dance with mirth, “There’s always an ulterior motive with you, isn’t there though?”. He forcefully shoves his friend, sending Armin stumbling a few steps backward, “You really like pretending you’re one of the good guys when your hands are blood-stained like the rest of us.

You can hear the blood rushing in your ear and you attempt to get in the middle of the impending conflict but Eren grabs your arm with a painful force. He growls,“Step back”. You obey.

“Don’t touch her touch like that.” Armin snarls.

“She’s my fucking girlfriend. I’ll touch her however I want. By the way, just because your little fiance is giving you a hard time doesn’t give you the right to leer at what’s mine.”

At this point you realize you come to your senses, and you leave the area quickly to get help. You scan the area around looking for Mikasa. She’s reliable and always knows what to do. You try to calm your panicked heart.

Gaining speed, you nearly fall by running into someone in the long hallway. Thankfully, the good samaritan is able to catch you in time, holding your shoulders in a firm but comforting grip.

You look up, eager to thank the man who caught you. Mullet. Tall. Slight scruff at the chin. You recognize him right away.

“Woah y/n, what are you running for?” He asks in amusement but one look at your teary eyes has him instantly concerned, “Hey, hey. Are you okay?”

“I-uh,” You’re blubbering, “Armin and Eren are acting kinda strange--I think Mikasa should calm them down.”

Jean’s eyebrows are furrowed, “Strange how? She stepped out so she’s not here right now.” You bite your lips, wondering how you were going to explain the situation.

Jean grabs your shoulder, “Hey, don’t worry. I’ll settle this. Can you take me to them?”

You nod, supremely grateful to have Jean in your corner. As you guys take a turn to the living room, you hear the excruciating sound of glass breaking. “Shit!” Jean curses.

In the middle of the living room stood Eren and Armin like centerpieces, beating the ever-living shit out of each other. You couldn’t see much beyond the fact Armin was throwing punches left and right, landing some but Eren was able to dodge most.

As you move to run forward, Jean grabs you, “No. Stop. There’s glass everywhere. You’re going to get hurt.”

You’re incredulous, “I can’t just let them hurt each other!”

Jean merely looks at you with a look of pity,

#armin arlert fanfic #armin arlet x you #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #eren jeager x reader #armin and eren fight over you #attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan fanfiction #tw manipulation #tw gaslighting #tw fighting #manipulator armin

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damiano-mylove · 3 years ago

Text

Condescending Bitch

Pairing: Thomas Raggi x reader

Wc: 2.5k

Cw(s): swearing, kissing, crying, probably typos (as per usual, tell me if it sucks)

Summary: Reader breaks up with their boyfriend and Thomas consoles them.

Masterlist

If honesty be a virtue, you'd be virtuous to plainly say you'd fallen out of love with your boyfriend and you had done so a while ago. It wasn't deliberate, it was a gradual fizz wherein you found your heart warming for someone else. You felt horrible about it and that guilt had been eating at you. There was no cheating, but you didn't think you'd be able to avoid it for much longer. Not to mention, it wasn't only the non-existent feelings, Luca was just an asshole when you weren't blinded by love.

There comes a time where one must throw in the towel, and now was that time for you.

You couldn't do it at a restaurant; knowing Luca, he'd cause a scene. You couldn't do it at some meeting place; it would ruin that place forever and ever to both of you. And that shit's just not fair.

In the end, you couldn't make the decision. So you put every single item of Luca's clothing in a bag (and a couple things he'd left around your flat), and drove over to his house while you still had the nerve. You'd gathered and lost the nerve a couple times before, but the plan was already in motion now. Hell, there was no plan, but whatever you were raring to do was up and running.

You drove straight to Luca's mother's house in record time. Time flies when you're laser focused.

"Y/n!" Luca's mother exclaimed joyfully as you entered the kind looking house. How someone like Luca came out of Mrs. Batali was a wonder in and of itself. Once Mrs. Batali spotted the bag in your hand, she frowned. "Has something happened, Bambino?"

Somehow, the hardest part of this breakup would be bidding goodbye to Luca's mother, and not Luca himself. You sighed, "I'm sorry, Signora. Luca and I have been having issues for a while now."

"Oh, don't be sorry, Bambino." The older lady's kind smile returned to her face, which struck a heart string you hadn't even known existed. Mrs. Batali swayed toward you, in all of her vanilla scented goodness. She hugged you around your neck loosely, which you returned around her wide hips. "You're always welcome for dinner and a roof. Don't let the stupid boy stop you from seeing me."

God gave two gifts to this world; one of them was Mrs. Batali.

A smile cracked across your face as your chest continued to tighten and hurt. You loved this family like your own, and you loved Luca at some point. So many memories were made in the throws of this relationship, and it was all going to be thrown out the window by you. But it was too late now.

"Ti amo." Mrs. Batali placed a kiss to your forehead which made your smile even more genuine. She patted your shoulder, finally releasing you from her motherly grasp. Sadly, she raised her arm to the stairs to Luca's bedroom. "I'll be down here, if you need me."

You smiled once more to the older lady and bowed your head in silent thanks. If you uttered a word, the word would lead to tears. It seemed the two of you knew this.

It was the last thing you wanted to do right now, but you had to seal the deal.

Without your consent, your feet began moving toward the stairs then up the stairs. Your heart beat in sickening rhythm with your footsteps, but your heart seemed more heavy than your feet. It was ridiculous. You were ready to throw up, pee, or meltdown - you didn't know which one, if it was one at all.

At long last, after walking down the longest hallway of your life, you stood in front of Luca's closed door. You remembered all the times you'd breeze in, going straight into Luca's arms for a kiss. His breath wasn't always good and he was a bad kisser, but he made you feel infatuation. Now it only seemed a fraction of what you felt for the other person. Yes, God, that was why you had to do this.

You knocked. Your heart was deafening.

"Come in!"

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You pushed open the door, feeling like you were having a heart attack. Luca smiled brightly at you from the light of his computer. Then he laid eyes on the bag. Don't know how, it was dark as fuck in the room. And smelt of cheap body spray and dirty clothes.

"Hey, Babe, I wasn't expecting you," Luca smiled, trying to act off the bag of his clothes and gifts in your hand. You flicked on the light as he stood up to close the door behind you.

This room is fucking disgusting. It was truly noxious.

"Alright, Luca, sit down, we've got to talk," you told him, putting on your bravest and thickest voice. It worked because the air in the room changed. The air grew thick and impossible to breath. It could've been cut with a knife. Luca sat on his bed, hands in his lap. You placed the bag on the ground and sighed, "We're breaking up."

For a second, he was unresponsive. Luca didn't say a word until he looked you in the eye, what felt like a full minute later. His bottom lip quivered. "You're dumping me?"

"You can tell people you dumped me, I don't mind," you quipped, trying to make the situation better. You did not, in fact, make the situation better. You potentially made it about thirteen times worse.

"No, you're not." Luca stood up again. Your breath caught in your throat. "We're not breaking up."

He took a few quick steps to you. You stood your ground, trying to be as brave as possible. Your mask was slipping. The last thing you wanted right now was for Luca to see that you were cracking under his gaze. That would be fucking horrendous.

All of a sudden, Luca barked out a laugh. He looked like a madman. "This is about that Thomas bitch, isn't it?" You didn't answer, and your facial expressions gave nothing away. Then Luca snapped, "Isn't it?!"

"If you want to fucking shout, we can shout," you seethed. Luca blinked angrily at you. "We're adults - act like it."

"You're a condescending bitch."

"And you're an ugly prick, but I've never complained about that. You've called me a condescending bitch about 3 times and a flat-out bitch more than a dozen," you recalled quickly, with venom dripping off each syllable. It shut Luca up. However, he began to cry. You felt nothing but hatred now. "You're one pathetic bitch to be crying over the girl who you treat like a fucking doormat." Luca only cried harder. No sympathy. You spun on your heel and opened the door.

Without a glance back, you left.

Mrs. Batali smiled at you on your way out and gave you a freshly baked bun, which you thanked her profusely for.

It didn't take long for reality to set in, however. The adrenaline faded as you drove back to your flat complex. You began crying at the wheel and completely broke down in the car park. Tears streamed down your face like rivers, snot clogged your nose. Your mouth tasted horrible so you started to eat the bun Mrs. Batali had baked. It was so good that you started crying harder.

How the fuck could you do that? At this point, you were too sad to give a fuck about sobbing in a car park at 6 in the evening. You just threw in the towel of a year long relationship, in the blink of an eye. Like it was nothing and meant nothing to you whatsoever, which wasn't true at all. You felt like a horrible person.

Your chest clogged up with emotions and stale air, your throat grew a lump that you couldn't swallow down. Now you were the pathetic one. Crying in a shitbox car over your ex while eating fucking bread.

A tap on the window scared the Jesus out of you.

When you looked at the source, the other person was looking right back at you, looking worried and confused. Leave it to Thomas to look sad just because you were sad. Thomas looked so fucking good even though a blur of teary eyelashes. He made the hand crank motion, so you rolled down your window.

"Are you okay?" Thomas asked. You just started laughing. What a stupid fucking question. Thomas began chuckling, realizing how stupid it was himself. "Fair enough. Fancy a cup of tea and a chat or shall I leave you to your car bread?"

How the fuck could he make you laugh in times like these?

You smiled then shooed him away from your car door so you could open it. He obliged and moved back, for you to get out, still with bread and keys in hand. Thomas furrowed his eyebrows as you two began walking back to the flat complex you both lived in. "Aren't you going to roll up the window?"

"How the fuck is anyone meant to steal it when all the windows are up?" It was your turn to earn a laugh from Thomas. Thomas' laugh hit your ear like honey. The sort of honey that your mother gave you to cure your sore throat before nursery. It was soothing and just the right thing for the situation.

As you walked up the stairs with Thomas, you realized he was taking you to his flat. To be fair, he was the one who offered you tea. What's he going to do? Offer you your own tea?

Thomas unlocked the ugly blue door of his flat that everyone in the building had a copy of. The second you both walked into the flat, warmth enveloped you, along with sandalwood and spices from Thomas' extensive spice cabinet. He must have been cooking earlier because it smelt Heavenly. Everything was in perfect place with just the right amount of mess and disorganization to make it seem like a home.

"I'll put the kettle on, sit anywhere," Thomas instructed after you both took your shoes off. You were wearing ratty trainers while Thomas was wearing perfectly clean Vans.

You nodded and flung yourself on one of his couches with a sigh. The couch was soft, warm and welcoming and you felt tired from crying and yelling and just the day in general. It was a shit day, that started with your toast burning and ended with this shit. A nap would really do good.

However, Thomas had other plans entirely. He placed a purple mug, full of tea with what looked like your golden ratio of milk and sugar. Thomas was your best friend, of course he knew your golden ration. You knew his. With a smile, you sat up which allowed Thomas to sit beside you and drape his arm over the back of the couch.

"Feel like telling me why you were crying in your car?" Thomas asked. You laughed lightly and sipped the piping hot tea.

"Broke up with Luca about-" you checked a clock. "-30 minutes ago."

As horrible as it sounds, Thomas' face lit up. His facial features remained the same but his beautiful green eyes lit up like candles in a dark room. "Is that so?"

"He called me a condescending bitch."

"So he hasn't gotten a new script," Thomas smiled. You chuckled lightly and sniffed. Your nose was still clogged from all the crying. You just didn't feel like blowing your nose like an elephant in front of Thomas right now. "He'll never get the chance to get a new script for you now."

"Thank God above," you sighed out with a laugh to your words. Thomas smiled. "I'll miss his mum though. Wonderful lady."

Thomas sipped his own tea and you discretely moved closer to him. It wasn't as discrete as you'd thought because Thomas picked up and moved a bit closer to you with a stupid smile on his face. "So how'd it go down?"

Like friends do, you told him everything, down to the detail. All but Luca being right, with Thomas being the other man who'd stolen your heart. That wouldn't be a key detail here because the last thing you needed today was to dump your boyfriend then directly after scare your best friend away from you forever.

But he wasn't scared off by you telling him Luca though you were leaving him for Thomas. Thomas actually smirked at that part, like the thought amused him. You didn't think anything of it actually, except for how cute Thomas was when he was smirking.

Eventually, the conversation faded and you were hip to hip with Thomas. With a sigh, he rested your head in the crook of Thomas' neck. His feather soft hair tickled the side of your face but you wanted nothing else for the moment. The scent of Thomas' cologne was prominent when you were this close to him, but you weren't going to complain about that. His arm fell from the back of the couch to around your shoulders.

Feeling Thomas' head turn to you, you looked up at him. Thomas' hand lightly squeezed you arm. Your breath hitched in your throat as you thought you were imagining Thomas observing your face.

Those gorgeous green eyes that you could stare into all day were scanning your face gently. They landed on your lush lips, then back to your eyes. All it took was a small nod for Thomas to lean in.

It was slow. It was slow, but undeniably sweet. The passion was palpable the minute your lips met his, just as you had been dreaming of for months now. His pillow-like lips were perfectly moisturized, but not over-saturated. The lip balm he used was strawberry flavoured and you'd never admired strawberry flavoured lip balm as you were in this moment.

As suddenly as it began, it ended.

Thomas leaned back for a second, looking guilty. "You need time to get over Luca, this is wrong."

"I've been over Luca for months." You placed a kiss to his lips, which Thomas accepted for a second, then backed out of again. You groaned. "Thomas, Luca was right. I'm in love with you."

In a stunned silence, Thomas' cheeks turned bright red. A broad smile grew on his face and you felt confident in your confession. You meant it, surely, but now you were confident that you did the right thing in telling Thomas.

"I've been in love with you since we went to the Capitoline." Thomas' voice cracked as he made his confession. Your heart bustled with warmth. He'd been pining for you all this time just to watch you run with Luca.

You couldn't take your aching heart. Grabbing Thomas' face gently, you pressed your lips to his again. He gladly returned this kiss with fervour and renewed zeal. Nothing else mattered while your lips were joined with Thomas' lips. Nothing would ever be able to induce the utter happiness and peace you'd felt in this moment.

After the kiss lasting for a while, Thomas pulled you to sit on his lap. He cupped your sweet face gently and smiled into your brilliant eyes. He kissed your nose. "May I tell you something else, Y/n?"

"Anything."

"I don't think you're a condescending bitch."

#måneskin #maneskin #thomas raggi #thomas maneskin #thomas raggi x reader #thomas raggi fanfiction #manskin fanfiction #x reader

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alloftheimaginesblog · 4 years ago

Text

Life Without Colour (PART FOUR)

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Taglist: @domainoflostsouls forgetthisbull handon-h-art yourspecialcrush giulsgotmusic mrsbarnes-rogers luosymekawa linzeyzarcone forgetthisbull calamityreads talgra

Warnings: this one takes a darker turn; trigger warnings for kidnapping, drugged, threats/slight violence, Hydra, angst

Note: this is over 6000 words, enjoy!! x

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

A few weeks had passed since you first saw colour; a few weeks have passed since you and Steve talked through everything and made peace with Bucky Barnes being your soulmate which mean a few weeks have passed since you last saw or spoke to Bucky Barnes. After your 3am phone call, you hadn’t seen him. You’d told Steve about the phone call when you were both awake the next morning, telling him as much of the conversation as you could remember. He seemed fine with it, knowing about Bucky’s nightmares and erratic sleeping schedule. In fact, he appreciated the gesture that Bucky reached out to ask what you were comfortable with. What Steve appreciated more though was your honesty and the fact you were straight with Bucky and told him that you and Steve were happy together and nothing would change that.

Everything was fine with you and Steve, every issue had been ironed out and in fact, the two of you had never been closer. You were truly grateful for Steve’s forgiveness and now, the guilt had almost fully disappeared. He had helped you to heal that wound and you had helped to heal his wounds with trust; you had proved yourself to be honest and that it was just one slip up.

Life had been good those few weeks, you spent more time with Nat and got to know about her budding relationship with Bruce. You’d seen the team a bit more than usual as well. No one else - besides Nat and Sam - knew about the soulmate fiasco and truthfully, it wasn’t their business to know anyway. Bucky hadn’t been around much, he’d called Steve a couple of times just to say that he was doing his own thing for a while as per your wishes. Steve was thankful to Bucky for providing that space even if it meant he had only seen his best friend a handful of times since he returned from Wakanda.

Things were good. Until they weren’t.

Steve and the some of the team got dragged to a mission across the country. It was a big one; Hydra were back and trying to infiltrate the systems. Brock Rumlow, or Crossbones as he referred to himself now, was after Steve and he wouldn’t stop until he got him. You didn’t really know what was happening with the mission, Steve was never allowed to tell you a lot about the missions, you just knew that it was a big one and it was dangerous. You hated when Steve was away on a mission; you hated the not knowing part of it all but you supposed it’s what you deserved for falling in love with Captain America.

You didn’t know how serious it was until you had been bringing the groceries into yours and Steve’s apartment and saw four men - three very large, hulking brutes of men - waiting for you. The scream that rose in your throat never found its way out before a gloved hand was forced over your mouth, holding a rag with something strong smelling over your mouth and nose. Brock Rumlow had you pinned in his arms, forcing you to breathe in the chemicals. You tried to fight against him as the fear radiated through your body, trying to put some of those self defence techniques that Natasha had taught you to good use but he was too strong and everything felt fuzzy around the edges. Your eyes were wide as you struggled, trying to escape, trying to scream; trying to do anything that would help to save you. Your heart pounded painfully against your ribcage and you could feel the panic set in when your vision began to blur. You could see the three men approach, weapons in hand but a gruff voice in your ear said, “Stop struggling and we won’t hurt you.” Whether you wanted to stop struggling or not wasn’t up to you but instead, the choice had been taken away and given to the substance that you were breathing in. As the darkness crept in, you heard a faint voice say, “Get Rogers on the phone now.”

Flashes of light, snippets of sound and quick seconds of vision was what you experienced for a few hours as you drifted in and out of consciousness. It wasn’t until a loud bang erupted a few rooms away that you really began to come back to life. Squinting in the low light, you blinked hard, trying to focus on something to figure out where you were. Wherever you were, it was dark and dim and it smelled faintly of the explosion of fireworks on the 5th of November.

You weren’t hurt, your neck ached from the position you’d been in for what you could only assume was the last few hours. You went to move when you realised that your hands and feet were bound. That’s when you really began to wake up. What the fuck? Your memory was hazy but you remembered Rumlow and his goons in your apartment. You pulled at your hands, trying to get loose but the bonds that tied your hands were too tight. Squinting, you looked around the room, it was dark, with a metal door and a few wooden boxes in the corner. You were sitting on a wooden chair, hands and feet bound to the arms and legs of it.

Your mind thought of Steve, oh god, Steve. You knew this had been Rumlow’s doing, what if he had gotten to Steve? What if- what if he- No. You couldn’t think like that. Steve had been on a mission states away from you. Rumlow had come to you because he obviously couldn’t get to Steve, he was drawing Steve out and you were the bait. Steve’s going to find you, (y/n). He said he’ll always protect you and he’ll keep that promise.

The more you panicked, the more you began to struggle; trying to break free of the ropes. Your breathing was quick and ragged as you struggled, your heart rate increasing with every passing second. Tears welled in your eyes as your mind raced with the horrors of what was going to happen to you. You froze when you could hear grunting outside, it sounded close.

Fear kicked you hard in the stomach, making you feel light headed and nauseous. You’d never been this terrified before. You thought that the most you could be scared was that time a spider ran across the bed when Steve was in a shower and you had to deal with getting it out of the apartment but no, tied to a chair after being drugged and kidnapped with explosions and not knowing what the fuck was going on... yeah, that’s a whole new level of fear. You tried to slow your breathing as you strained to listen to the commotion outside of the room you occupied. You could hear grunts and what sounded like punches before the metal door of the room was thrown open and there stood Sam Wilson. A sob got caught in your throat as you saw him.

He pressed his earpiece as he rushed to you, kneeling to help untie you, “I got her, Steve. Second floor, take a right, fifth door down. She’s okay.”

“Oh my god,” you sobbed as relief flooded your senses, “Oh my god, Sam!”

Sam murmured words of comfort as he worked on the ropes that bounded you to the chair, “It’s okay, they’re not gonna hurt you. We’ve got you now.”

He managed to get the last one untied when Steve ran into the room. He wore his Captain America gear sans the mask and carried the shield. As soon as he saw you, he tossed his shield to the side and rushed to your aid. Sam stepped to the side, picking up the shield and playing around with it as he allowed you two a moment to reunite. He was muttering about how the shield was much lighter than it looked.

“Steve,” you whimpered, throwing your arms around your boyfriend and allowing him to pull you up. He held you tightly, breathing heavy into your neck.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss to your neck, “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

“Sorry to interrupt but we gotta move,” Sam said after a minute, “before we get any more company.”

“Are you okay to walk?” Steve asks you, pulling you back to look at you, “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you say, wiping your eyes, “Tired but I can make it.”

The three of you hurry out, Steve tells you not to look at the bodies on the floor but you do and you instantly regret it. “Are they-”

“Knocked out,” Sam says, answering your question before you finish it, “but won’t be for long so we gotta hurry.”

Everything’s a bit of a blur as Steve and Sam usher you out, careful to take you the safest and quickest path. You feel queasy after seeing the blood and the carnage of the few HYDRA men so your eyes are trained to the ground until Steve has you safe and sitting in the quinjet.

Steve doesn’t let go of you, always touching or holding onto you in some way or another. You’re silent as Sam begins to fly the jet. Steve’s talking to you but you can’t focus on anything other than his hand in yours, “I’m tired,” you whisper, “I’m so tired.” You lay your head on Steve’s shoulder and darkness quickly encapsulates you.

You gasp awake, jolting upwards, “Whoa, (y/n), it’s okay!” A voice says quickly, “You’re okay, you’re safe remember. It’s Steve, sweetheart; it’s Steve. Look at me, (y/n).”

Your mind whirs, the tendrils of the nightmare still creeping around in your brain. Hands on your face force your eyes to stop fleeting from wall to wall and instead focus on the person in front of you. Steve stares at you, telling you that everything’s okay and that you’re safe now. Steve’s hands are on either side of your face as he makes you look at him. You blink hard, as your eyes struggle to focus on him. You hear the rapid beeping of the machine and you register that it’s your measuring your heartrate. His face finally sharpens and you can see him properly now.

“Slow breath in, sweetheart. You’re safe, I promise you. Copy me.” Steve takes a deep breath and you follow suit, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart. Steve repeats to you that you’re in hospital and you’re safe, “No one can hurt you in here.”

You look away from him after a few seconds to look around you and sure enough, you are in hospital. The walls are pure white, too white and you’re in the hospital bed, “How did I get here?”

“We got you and you passed out again, I took you here just to make sure that whatever drug they gave you was out of your system. It’s leaving so you’ll be okay, sweetheart.” He brushes your hair back, “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t ever want to be an Avenger, I know that’s for damn sure,” you mutter as you close your eyes and fall back against the pillows, “How you guys deal with the fear is beyond me.”

Steve smiles but it’s sad. You open one eye, “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, “Don’t worry about it. You get some rest and I’ll be right here, (y/n). I’m not going anywhere. Doctors want to keep you in overnight just to make sure it’s all out your system, okay? I’m going to wait by your side all night and don’t worry, we have agents at every door in the hospital.”

“Rumlow?” You asked him, voice trembling, “Where’s he?”

“SHIELD are closing in on him, sweetheart,” he sighs, stroking your hair back gently, “Don’t worry... He can’t get you in here.”

As Steve looked over you as you slept, Sam came into the room, “Coffee delivery.” Steve sipped at the hot coffee happily, “How is she?”

“Had a nightmare about it but she’s okay. She’s scared.” Steve’s eyes were trained on you as though we were watching a newborn infant to check its breathing, “God, what if we hadn’t found her in time?”

“But we did and we got her out. She’s safe, Steve.”

Steve shook his head, “But for how long?” He asked as he rubbed his face tiredly with one hand, “How long before Rumlow or HYDRA or someone else targets (y/n) to get to me?”

Sam swallows, “What are you thinking then?”

“She has to go somewhere safe, somewhere away from the chaos and the danger.”

“How long?”

Steve shrugs, “I don’t know... At least until we know all of Rumlow and his men are locked up.”

“You’ll go with her?”

It’s a big decision and he knows that you should be involved in it but he knows exactly what you’ll say; you’ll say that you want to stay with him and stay by his side even if it means living in terror of every bump in the night. He had been reckless, Steve had thought he was untouchable, he thought that you would’ve been safe but Steve underestimated the lengths these sorts of guys go to in order to win.

He shakes his head, hating the decision that he’s about to make but it’s for the best. It’s the only thing he knows that will protect you; it’s the only way he’s happy with you leaving, “No... but I know someone who will.”

Sam shakes his head, knowing exactly who he means and he raises his eyebrows, “You’re kidding, right? That’s a stupid decision, Steve, and you know it.”

Steve scoffs, “I wish... but... he’s strong, he’s good in a fight and I know that he’ll protect her no matter what.”

“But what if... what if they... you know?”

Steve takes a breath and releases it slowly, “Then I’ll deal with that when the time comes. I need to keep (y/n) safe and this is the only way...”

Sam’s hand is heavy on Steve’s shoulder as they watch you, “She’s not gonna like that decision.”

Steve laughs, knowing fine well that you will fight against the decision for all its worth, “Oh, yeah, I know. Probably won’t forgive me in a hurry either.” Steve stands up, “Will you watch her so I can go make a phone call? I’ll just be outside the door if you need me.”

Sam nods, taking Steve’s seat, as Steve grabs his phone from his jacket, dialling one number. He waits outside the room, just across from the two agents that Fury had placed outside of (y/n)’s hospital room 24/7.

“Steve?” He’d been sleeping, the one time Bucky Barnes is getting a decent sleep and his phone rings and wakes him. He always answers when it’s Steve though, regardless of the time or where he is.

“Hey, Buck... I need to ask you a favour.” Bucky asks what Steve needs and Steve begins to tell him, “Rumlow and HYDRA are after me. They kidnapped (y/n), she’s okay, in hospital but no injuries. She’s shaken up pretty bad and... Bucky, this is going to be a big ask.”

“Whatever you need, Steve, I’ll do.” He’s sitting, tugging a shirt on with one arm, “What do you need?” Bucky Barnes would go to the ends of the Earth for Steve Rogers and he knows that whatever Steve needs, it’s something big.

“I need you to take her to a safe house.” Bucky freezes, he had expected Steve to ask him to come help for extra protection or something like that but this... this is huge, “I need you to take her. I don’t know how long for, a few weeks maybe months? No one else, it can only be you.”

“But... Steve...” He doesn’t say much but Steve knows what he’s saying. But Steve, I’m your girlfriend’s soulmate and you’re asking for me to take her into a secluded house alone? Just the two of us for god knows how long? Are you sure that’s a good idea?

Steve sighs heavily, “I know, Buck.” His tone almost sounds defeated, “I know... We were finally back on track and the universe hits out with this... I just need her to be safe, Buck, regardless of who he soulmate is or who she ends up falling in love with; I want her to be happy and I want her to be safe.”

“Why can’t you go?”

“They’re after me, I can’t let you or Sam or the team pick up my mess. I have to deal with it. That’s why I need you to go with her. You’re just as strong as me and... I know that you’ll keep her safe. I know that whatever happens, you’ll do everything you can to protect her... I need you to take her until we have Hydra locked up.”

Bucky licks his lips as he thinks about it. He doesn’t really know how to feel about it but he doesn’t really have to, Steve needs him and he’d follow that scrawny kid into the depths of hell if it mean he’d be helping him, “Okay, I’ll help. I’ll need a few days to find a safe house and get it prepped then I’ll fly out, okay?” He agrees to Steve’s ask though he has a niggling feeling in the back of his mind that all of this won’t go to plan.

“Thank you, Bucky.” Steve closes his eyes as he leans against the wall, “You can’t tell me or anyone else where you’re going or where you’re taking her. I probably won’t be able to contact you so-” I’m leaving you with my girl alone with no contact from me or the team for weeks or months potentially, “- you gotta keep her safe. I’ve got some cash together for you to buy everything with that so you’re untraceable. Fury’s giving us more cash since we don’t know how long you’ll be away for.”

Bucky swears on his own life that he’d protect you with everything he has. Before Steve hangs up, Bucky says, “Steve, I just want you to know that no matter what happens... no matter what feelings arise... I won’t- I won’t do anything, I won’t act on anything, I won’t try and do anything about them...”

It’s the reassurance Steve needs and he feels a lot lighter now that Bucky’s said that. He smiles as he release a long breath, “I know you won’t, Bucky. I’ll see you soon.” Steve hangs up and walks back into the hospital room where Sam has Marvin Gaye playing quietly on his phone, “Do you just play Marvin Gaye to anyone in a hospital?”

Sam rolls his eyes, “It was too quiet, man! How did it go?”

“He’s onboard.”

Sam claps him on the shoulder, “You sure this is what you want? You know that I could take her or you could and I could hold the fort?”

Steve sighs, “It has to be him.” He shrugs, “I... I can only hope that nothing happens but god knows... All I know is that she’ll be okay with him.” The pair look over you as Steve’s thoughts swirl. This might be one of the last times you’re together in a romantic sense, he doesn’t know if you’ll come back loving Bucky or hating him and it makes him feel sick at the thought but he’s okay with it. He wants you to be happy and if that means it’s with Buck, then so be it.

“Absolutely not.”

“(y/n), come on-”

“No, Steve!” Your voice is raising due to the sheer stupidity of his request, “You’re saying that because you’re being targeted that means I’m a target too, I understand that, but what I don’t understand is why you’re asking me to go live in a safe house with Bucky for god knows how long! He’s my soulmate, Steve, I- I can’t.”

“The plans have already been made.”

“Then unmake them!” You’re angry and he gets it and to be honest, he doesn’t want this to happen either but it has to. He’d told you the next morning when the drugs were completely out of your system. Sam was back at the apartment checking for bugs, just in case Rumlow’s gang planted some when they were in and then he’d take you back to the apartment for you to pack a bag, “I’m not going Steve.”

“Yes, you are.” He crosses his arms over his chest and looks at you with a furrowed brow. He understands that you’re an adult who can decide their own fate but Steve is choosing this one for you, “You might not understand right now but when you come out the other end of this safe then I hope you’ll understand then.”

You shake your head as tears threaten to fall. You’re angry at Steve, that he made this decision and you knew you would be going no matter what fight you put up. It annoyed you, made you feel small and made you feel like a child who couldn’t make their own decisions, “Not without you, Steve. Why can’t it be you?”

“I’m trying to keep the fight away from you,” he says softly, hand on top of yours, “Bucky’s the only way you’ll be kept safe.” Silence falls for a moment before he speaks again, “I know what this means. I know what this could mean for... for us. I know that you could come back in love with Bucky and he for you. I know that you could come back and break up with me on the spot... That’s a risk I am willing to take.”

You shake your head, “No,” you whisper, “I’m not willing to take that risk, Steve.” You could trust yourself, that wasn’t the issue. You knew that no matter what, you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise your relationship with Steve. But... you and Bucky were soulmates and that had to be for a reason and it worried you that being alone with him for an unlimited amount of time would cause something to stir. You trusted yourself not to cheat on Steve but you didn’t trust your heart not to hurt Steve.

Steve crouched down beside the hospital bed and lifted your hand to his lips, “I know, sweetheart,” tears burned at his own eyes as he spoke to you, “I know the risk. I know that you could come back and we could break up instantly and if you want, we could break up right now so that whatever happens, you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about it-”

You swung your legs out of the bed, throwing your arms around him, “No,” you wept sadly into his shoulder, “that’s the last thing I want.”

He held you tightly, knowing that this very well could be one of the last times that the two of you had together in a relationship, “I’m doing this because I want to protect you, (y/n)… Bucky can protect you.”

“I-I love you, Steve,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck. My god, how you loved him. He had changed your life, brought so much joy and happiness to it, “No matter what, I love you.” The two of you stayed like that for a long time, just needing to feel each other and needing to be with each other because... who knew what would happen over the course of the next few months?

With doctors granting you permission to leave the hospital and after having Sam debug the apartment, Steve took you home for your last night with him. The car ride to the apartment was quiet and your hand never left Steve’s as he drove you both home. You had relented with the decision, knowing full well that regardless of whether you said yes or no to leaving with Bucky, you would be going anyway. You and Steve had talked things over, about Steve’s duty to the job and to taking down Hydra, about Bucky and how he wasn’t going to overstep a line with you or anything like that. The pair of you spoke about the non-existent contact you’d have.

“Hopefully it won’t be too long,” Steve said, “maybe just a few weeks but these days, Hydra is everywhere and nowhere all in the one, it could be months. Bucky managed to find a safe house relatively quick. For obvious reasons, I don’t know where it is or what continent it’s on but he said that it’s secluded and it’s safe. He said that it comes with minimal furniture so tomorrow morning, you’ll leave.” You squeezed his hand tightly, not wanting to speak for fear of bursting into tears. Steve glanced over at you and gave you the tiniest of smiles. He lifted your hand and pressed a soft kiss to it.

When you reached the apartment complex, there were three black SUVs parked out front, Steve saw you looking, “SHIELD agents,” he told you, “We’ll have agents outside the apartment and one in each of our neighbour’s apartments.”

“Jeez,” you murmured, “I’m only here for one night, it’s like I’m a bloody Kardashian.”

Steve smiled slightly, glad to hear you make a joke, he wrapped an arm around you as you walked into the building, “Only the best for you, my love.”

You were rather apprehensive about going back into the apartment. It had been yours and Steve’s safe place and now... it seemed compromised almost. Steve seemed to pick up on your worry, “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he said as he took the keys out of his pocket, “It’s been cleaned, debugged and also...” He unlocked the door to reveal red rose petals running from the front door into each room.

“Steve,” you whispered, looking at him with a smile. You walked into the apartment, hanging your coat up and kicking your shoes off. You followed the petals into the kitchen where there was a candlelit dinner waiting for the two of you.

“It’s not much but I had Nat come round and make it special since it’s our last night together.” Note; ‘last night together’ is different from ‘last night together for a while’. A pang of sadness shot through you, you leaned up to kiss him softly, whispering that you loved it.

“There’s a bath waiting for you if you want it. Some Chinese takeout if you’re hungry.”

You hugged him tightly, “Just hold me for a while.” So, the pair of you stood in the kitchen, holding each other in the dim light not knowing what would happen next.

It was a few minutes later Steve tugged you to the kitchen table where you both sat down, “You remember our first night here?” He asked you as he handed you some take out cartons and began to eat.

You stifled a laugh, “Yeah, no electricity for three days and no hot water either!”

Steve laughed with you, taking a fork full of chow mein, “Yeah, having to eat Chinese take out on the floor with torches and candles all around us. Could’ve cried when the electricity finally turned on.”

You rolled your eyes, “You could have cried?! What the hell, Rogers? You teared up like you were watching your first born son marry!”

The ice had been broken and the two of you could freely talk and laugh without boundaries. You both carried on as though it were a normal night, a date night with no mention As the night went on, you had a nice romantic bath as Steve cleaned the dishes and when you were finished, things ended in the bedroom.

You always loved laying on his chest, listening to the slow rhythmic beat of his heart and his steady breathing. Most people, if they knew it was their last night with someone would probably fuck until dawn but neither of you wanted that. You wanted nothing more than to lie with him, talking and just being there and being present. Steve wanted to hold you, wanted to tell you how much he cared and loved you and he just wanted to be with you.

“Whatever happens,” you said softly, “I just want you to know that this was real; this is real - that although we’re technically not soulmates, I truly believe that we are.”

Steve pulled you tighter into him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, “I want you to know,” he said, “that no matter what feelings you start to have for Bucky, no matter how you feel towards me in the end up... I won’t blame you. I won’t expect you to love me like this on the other side. I won’t expect you to still want to be with me. I know that I’m forcing you into this situation and that kills me to do but I have to do it so whatever happens, it’s not your fault.”

You look up to him as you both whisper your confessions of undying love before kissing him gently. It’s a soft kiss, full of emotion and full of such sorrow. It’s a goodbye. You would say goodbye officially tomorrow but this was the real goodbye, this was the intimate goodbye, the letting go of the intertwined hearts and this was it. The kiss soon turned more passionate and then the two of you were confessing your love in the most intimate of ways.

“How are you feeling about all of this?” Natasha asked you as she sat on yours and Steve’s bed. You were in the process of packing your bags.

“I feel like I’m perpetually on the verge of tears,” you answered, as you folded some t-shirts and squeezed them into the bag, “It’s hard, you know? I understand why but my god, Nat, I hate this.”

Nat studied you carefully and you knew the question that was on her mind. What if you fall for Barnes? To be honest, it had been the question on everyone’s mind that morning.

“I’m shit scared,” you admitted to her, dropping the bag onto the bed beside her as you ran your hands through your hair, “I am terrified. I am so in love with Steve and what if I come back madly in love with Bucky? Or better yet, in love with the two of them?”

Nat stood up, placing a gentle hand on your arm, “Hey, whatever happens, it’s going to be okay. You can’t stress about something that might not even happen. You have to take it day by day and if you fall for him then so be it. If you don’t, great. If you’re in love with the two of them then that’s something you and Steve have to talk about and sort out when you’re back. Don’t stress about it now.” She pulled you in for a tight hug, a very un-Nat thing to do, “Just know that I’ll be helping Steve sort out the Hydra mess, I’ll keep his ass safe and in line and hopefully it won’t be too long before you’re allowed to come home.”

“Thanks, Nat.” The two of you pulled apart, “You’ll need to keep a diary or something to update me on everything I’ll miss... especially with you and a certain Dr Banner.” You placed your phone on top of the counter, you couldn’t take it for fear of tracking so there was no point in having it. You sighed as you placed it down.

Nat rolled her eyes, “Yeah right. Let’s get this wig sorted.”

The Avengers were never too good at disguises, it usually always consisted of sunglasses and a cap so, in order to hide your identity further, Nat had brought you a wig the opposite colour, cut and style to your hair just now and some contact lenses of a different colour to your natural eye colour.

After a few minutes, you looked in the mirror, staring at someone who looked like a stranger, “Oh god, I hate it.” The top you wore wasn’t at all flattering for your body type. You tugged it down, wishing that it wasn’t quite so figure hugging. You didn’t mind things that clung to your body, you’d worked through a lot of the body issues you had but the top was a horrid colour and paired with this hair and these contacts... you didn’t feel like a Kardashian anymore.

Nat laughed, “That means it works. Honestly, you look fine, stop worrying... Let’s go show the boys.”

You walked into the living room with your packed bags to see Sam and Steve standing talking. Steve smiled when he looked at you, “You look... interesting.”

“Shut it, Rogers.”

“I mean, it definitely works because I look at you and I don’t see (y/n), I see a complete stranger,” Sam offered.

“You ready?” Steve asked softly, taking the bags from you, “Got everything?” You nodded, murmuring a ‘think so’. He smiled and pulled an envelope out of his back pocket, “I wrote this letter this morning. I want you to read it when it’s time...” Your confused expression made him explain further, “I want you to read this letter when you start to feel things... things for Bucky. If that happens.” You took a breath, mind whirring with the possible things that could be in that letter, “You’ll know when to read it.”

It was then that there was a knock on the door. Sam answered it to see Bucky Barnes standing wearing a cap and, you guessed it, sunglasses. He wore leather gloves to cover his metal hand and carried a bag over his shoulder. He lifted the sunglasses to look at you, “Ready?”

Oh god, it’s happening.

“I don’t want to cry because I’m scared of the contact lenses,” you whimpered as tears threatened to fall. You hugged Nat and Sam, thanking them for their help, before Steve said that he’d walk out with you both. He picked up your bags and the three of you left the apartment to the black car that was outside. Bucky packed the three bags in the trunk before hugging Steve.

You couldn’t hear what the two of them said in the brief encounter but you supposed that it would be Bucky reassuring Steve that you’d be safe and that he wouldn’t act on any feelings that may grow. Steve clapped him on the shoulder and Bucky got into the driver’s seat of the car.

Steve turned to you and wrapped you in his arms. God, you just wanted to cry. You wished that you didn’t have to go, you wished that you could just stay with him but you couldn’t. You had to leave. They’d already gotten to you once and Steve wouldn’t dare let it happen again.

“I love you,” you told him softly, “I love you so much, Steve. I-I love you.”

He held you tighter, “I love you, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay. I’ll get this sorted so that you can come home to me.” You pulled back and he brushed your cheek, wiping your tear gently, “No matter what happens, it’s okay.” You hugged him again before he leaned down and kissed you softly. Bucky, who had been watching in the rear view mirror, looked away, “Goodbye, (y/n).”

“Goodbye, Steve.” He opened your car door and you slid inside.

“Thank you, Buck,” Steve said, clearing his throat, “Be safe.” He closed the door and Bucky started the engine, pulling out of the apartment complex. Your eyes were trained on the spot where Steve was, watching as he got smaller and smaller until you couldn’t see him anymore. It was only when he was out of sight that you allowed yourself to really break. Fuck the contact lenses, I’m too sad to care.

Bucky glanced at you as he drove, feeling a pang of sadness for you as you wept in the seat beside him. He knew that part of the reason you were so upset was because it was him that was taking you, had he not been your soulmate you would have probably been okay but because he was your soulmate, it filled you to the brim with worry, guilt and pure sadness. All he could do was drive. Nothing he could say could help you. He reached to his side, taking a pack of tissues from the door’s compartment before handing them to you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, taking them from him. He couldn’t do much to help but he had done enough to make you feel comforted and to make you feel as though you weren’t alone. You wiped your eyes as you stared out of the window, wondering where the next few weeks would take you.

#lwc #life without colour #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x reader #reader insert #plus size reader #steve rogers/reader/bucky barnes #marvel #soulmate au #avengers #reader #steve rogers/reader #bucky barnes/reader

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its-me-im-coraline · 3 years ago

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Curiosity Killed the Cat // Thomas Raggi

words // 1179

warnings // small sexual scene, subby thomas, me trying to be poetic ig

pairing // Thomas Raggi x Gender Neutral Reader

author's note // i haven't written smut in yeaaaars omg I feel so rusty. let me know if this sucks or if you liked it. big thank you to this amazing person, @tabi-toast for proof reading this cause I suck at proof readin so yay (although you might want to read it again cause I might have changed it in a spur of inspiration last night 👀)

request // yes, here

summary // Thomas and reader find themselves in quite the compromising position for the poor eyes of a band member. Seems like the lines between work and personal life are quite blurry for the two.

It all started during the summer; a hot June day, to be clichè. I had just started working for the group Måneskin, as part of their PR team. It has been quite the interesting job for me, being new in the city of Rome and whatnot, coming to be part of the team for a music group seemed magical at first. Key word: at first. As they gained more and more popularity my job became relatively hectic, my anxiety rising like a virus latched onto my brain and never letting it go. Thus how I found myself in this predicament.

Being around the band meant creating bonds with them, some more than others. It is not that I don't like it, but rules are a thing; rules that put my job on the line over the risky looks or the racy touches here and there. But some rules are just made to be broken. Any feelings like that were bound to be hidden and never been seen by anyone but him.

The first time I got caught up in Thomas is a blur. There was some drinks, some celebration happening, and neither of us truly wanted to be there. At first the balcony felt like a good idea, with the fresh air and allowing him to take a smoke as we spoke. Maybe it was the young of our age, or maybe is the deep attraction we have for each other, that kept us talking as if there was no tomorrow. Maybe it was the wine, or the whiskey, that led us to sneak out of the venue. No one knows what it was neither how it happened.

The next morning was a blurry dream. Bleary eyes opening up in an unfamiliar enviroment, the light shining in my eyes and the soft breaths of someone. Saying it was a shock is an understatement. My heart was beating out of my chest. They can't know. But I do, and it is enough to fill me up with guilt. So I got up and left, just like that, forgetting about that night, or at least trying to.

The thing is that I could not get him out of my head since that event. His hands on my body or his begging, begging for something to happen, to be given to him. Every sinful move of my body on his was clouding my mind, day in and day out, for weeks. It was a never-leaving thought, a film I tried ending so many times. But the truth is I need it; I need him, and as it seems he needs me, too. That night was just the start of an addiction.

About a month later, it happened again, but this time we were both fully sober, only being drunk on each other. We both wanted it fully, very well in our minds knowing this. It was spoken out loud, in words and in action how much we craved for this. From the second time and after it became a reoccurring thing; an arrangment neither could deny. We mutually agreed that this was a perfect stress reliever - no strings attached, no emotions other than the friendship we had grown to share so it was not awkward being around each other, we just fulfilled each other's needs without expecting anything out of it, without others expecting anything from it. It was ment to be a deal, there were meant to be no feelings and we both thought we had that perfected, but we were mostly hiding our feelings as we were hidding our noises; badly.

Once again we found ourselves hiding away, this time it was more public than usual. His dressing room. The door wouldn't lock, and as much as I tried to deny it, the excitement of possibly getting caught is what drove me even more insane, besides the view of the man beneath my body.

— smutty moment in case you don't want to read it, it isn't necessary —

So there he was now, withering, struggling beneath my finger tips. It started softly, hands roaming his body, lips attached to each other. Every kiss was like nectar and every move was like petals. How could something feel so soft but so rough at the same time?

"Oh mio dio, fai qualcosa, per fav-" could not even finish his sentence as my hands moved all over his dick before my lips attached to it momentarily, a swift shuck on his tip and a kiss, before moving away again.

"I told you to be quiet, pet. It's like you want everyone to know what a naughty boy you are, no?" I swear the effect I had on the man. Just one simple word and his whole body shuddered, no need for anything else. "Besides, I am not sure if you should get rewarded for your behavior tonight."

"No no, please, I tried, I really did, per favore."

"That's just disrespect, pet. I might as well just," stop. All I did was stop as he wiggled beneath me on the couch.

"I said, be quiet! Now be a good boy and do a little something for me. Only then will you get what you want, yeah?"

He nodded his head, still so drowsy from the pleasure and the pain; such addictive delirium he was in.

"Use. your. words." His eyes were glossy, as if from crying, but he wasn't willing to stop this, so words he used. A simple si, nothing else, it was enough to show me how he was behaving.

"Now, show me how well you can pleasure me," I said, laying back on the couch, waiting for his hands and lips to do their work on me.

— end of smutty moment —

"Hey, Thomas, did I leave my ch- You're at it again?" At that moment everything went in slow motion. Damiano's voice was heard so close to us, inside the room, but could it be.

"Get the fuck out of here? What are you looking at?"

"Yes, yes, sorry," and with that he was out the room, leaving me and Thomas alone again.

For a second neither of us knew what to do or think. Not only did Damiano just walk in on us, on a position that no one was supposed to know of, he already knew. I couldn't understand which is worse in that momen. Did anyone else know? Did my superiors know? Oh my what if they did?

In the moment we just stopped. Paused our predicament and got dressed up again, hoping that we could clear it all up after their show. So we waited. We waited till the show was over. And until we all got together. But it was quiet, not a word about what happened. Damiano wouldn't say a word, just stare, sternly, seeing that even then neither of us could keep away. If looks could kill his would've been bloody but both Thomas and I would go down satisfied.

tag list: @bieberhoodforever

#maneskin imagine #thomas raggi imagine #maneskin fanfiction #måneskin #måneskin imagine #måneskin fanfic

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sakura-83 · 3 years ago

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Things from Anne with an e that I feel like writing down

Season 2 Episode 3: The True Seeing Is Within

1. I haven’t done one of these is so long

2. The opening will always be so good I hardly ever skip it unless I’m binging the show

3. Anne’s handwriting

4. Sometimes when Anne stares at things in shock and they get really close to her face she looks like a frog in a cute way

5. Consistent close ups on her mouth as she talks

6. Tripping Nate’s trap without even realizing what’s going on

7. “Not an adventure, per say-“

8. Anne promising to be calm and then running out the door yelling

9. Matthew and Marilla making decisions on the farm together

10. Aunt Josephine forcing the Barrys to bring Anne

11. I always thought the borders took the gun as they were fleeing the house but they actually stole it far in advance woah

12. I actually feel really bad for Dunlop. Nate is just a bad person, Jonesy genuinely likes the town and the cuthberts despite lying to them and wants to stay where he feels at home

13. You can’t hide anything from Marilla apparently

14. Clever cover up from Nate as to why he was in Anne’s room

15. I hate Nate but boy he’s a good actor and manipulator

16. Minnie May shoving her face against the window

17. Anne nearly out-logicing Mr Barry about the finances of gold

18. “Mr Barry doesn’t usually discuss our finances. Today’s your lucky day Anne.”

19. Minnie May is a terrible little child I love her

20. Poor poor Jerry

21. Jerry’s family is catholic

22. Back when people hated the French not as a joke

23. Despite being terrified of these men, Jerry never once gives in to them. He removes himself from the situation as swiftly as possible but never once lets them get their way

24. Jerry and Anne just go up in the barn and cry why is the barn a popular crying spot

25. Jerry still has guilt for losing that money even months later, blaming himself for the cuthberts financial hardship even though they probably would’ve needed borders regardless

26. “You didn’t do anything wrong, my son.”

27. I always find it really interesting seeing the progression from Marilla refusing to even talk to Jerry to him being part of the family, another child of theirs even though he also has his own family

28. Marilla and Matthew can communicate so much through so little spoken words

29. Aunt Josephine!!!!! And her definitely gay butler

30. “It’s a letter sir. The one we’ve just discussed. At length. Moments ago.”

31. The girls spelling so Minnie May can’t understand them

32. The watch and brooch together in the pawn shop window

33. “Something that doesn’t bore me to tears! This velvet has absolutely no drape.” Me in the fabric store too tbh

34. “This feels like a cat! Meow!”

35. When Mrs Barry is upset with her husband she just starts redecorating???

36. Malcolm Frost is quite the interesting side character. He’s only there for a brief few minutes in one episode of one season, but you get a sense of his entire story in that short time without them really having to explain all of it to you. He also gives Anne a half filled journal, something that will no doubt influence her in her ventures. He’s one of those people that will always be significant in her life despite barely doing anything

37. The girls have been told so many lies that they’ve gaslighted themselves into believing it

38. 1 ton of gold reaps 40 cents. 2000 pounds accumulated from small traces in the soil is only enough to buy 2 dozen eggs despite the digging cost being several hundred DOLLARS

39. “But we don’t buy our eggs, we have chickens.” A 40 cent turnover for hundreds of dollars in digging is already a terrible deal but this line shows just how truly useless it would be to a farming town

40. Anne finally putting the pieces together

41. “Who have you been listening to recently. Everyone around here? Or that person in here. Hmm?” “I’m a child, Mr. Frost.” “Poppycock. Children are pure instinct. You should’ve trusted yourself.”

42. “Take notes as you explore your life.”

43. Anne is so bewilderingly strange that she manages to make even the most cynical of people feel a little better about the world

44. Minnie May and the officer saying bye to each other feels like improve it’s so natural and funny

45. “Public house” aka pub aka bar

46. Elizabeth Barry threatens their friendship part 354656465

47. The way they have dried herbs hanging upside down in sprigs instead of stored in bottles is pretty interesting

48. Mr Dunlop making a pie for Anne, genuinely excited for her to come back

49. The way the audio feels underwater when Anne is in a panicked daze, her own heartbeat louder than those around her

50. Anne being concerning quiet, tipping them off that she knows

51. The pie falling, any ‘friendship’ with the borders destroyed

52. “I believe you Anne.” More development from episode 1 where Marilla assumed every word out of her mouth was a lie

53. The grifters escaping in broad daylight, yet Matthew and Jerry are so busy working they don’t even notice

54. Matthew letting Jerry go home to his family early

55. Jerry’s little smile when he finds out the borders are leaving

56. Anne snd Marilla can’t even communicate properly, but getting up when tied like that requires the two people to really work together and they’re still able to get up and outside

57. Using the farm bell to get Matthew’s attention

58. Matthew checking for the gun and Marilla’s first thought being Anne’s safety when it’s discovered stolen

59. Jerry accidentally crossing paths with them again, finally realizing who they are

60. Jerry standing up to fight them again. He doesn’t win this time either, but he did charge at Nate head on this time and he also stalled their progress in escaping, leading to the capture of Mr Dunlop. He didn’t win, but he did stand up for himself and that’s what character development is all about

61. “I never liked you.”

62. Dunlop demanding all the money or threatening to shoot Nate, all on the grounds of him turning the cuthberts against him. Despite being a liar, he’s still terribly lonely and wanted a place to call home making him a very sympathetic villain

63. Anne’s apron getting discarded in the woods like it’s trash

64. “They liked me. Everyone, they liked me!”

65. “There is no me and you! Am taking the money, and I’m gonna buy a house with land somewhere beautiful!”

66. “At least this time I tried to stop them.” “You’re a good lad Jerry, well done.”

67. William realizing just how much trouble he’s put his family in by not listening to those around him

68. Matthew taking Jerry home

69. Packing up all the things Nate left behind

70. Anne genuinely telling Jerry what he did was brave and hugging him, and then walking away stiffly as if she didn’t just do that. She bullies him a lot but when we he’s in actual danger she does really care, and considering they had the gun, they could’ve done a lot worse to Jerry than knock him out

71. Despite being bitter about Nate, she’s still going to learn from both his book and this experience and

72. “All we can do is our best Marilla. Regardless of what we know or don’t know. I believe there’s always a bit of good in every situation, even a bad one. I think it builds character!”

73. Gilbert getting the letter about the gold AFTER this whole fiasco I’d painful irony

#anne shirly cuthbert #anne with an e #anne of green gables #mathew cuthbert #marilla cuthbert #jerry baynard #gilbert blythe #sebastian lacroix #diana barry #josephine barry #renew awae

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aotwaifu · 4 years ago

Note

Can you do a headcanon of the veterans (Levi, Erwin, Hanji and Mike) of how they cry please? And thanks for your effort 🙏🏼🧎🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️ I will be sending this message several times because I think Tumblr is eating my messages

YES THE MORE THE MERRIER <3 I haven’t gotten many requestes 🥲

—

Veterans Headcanons on how each cries! (Levi, Erwin, Hanji & Mike).

Levi

I would believe something he had feared for such a long time or something that has built up for a while would make Levi break down into tears. When he lost Farlan and Isabel, his first reaction was absolute shock. He’s a usually collected person but to get him to begin crying would be a built up of things and a huge loss. But here would be noticeable features:

A lot of shallow and heavy gasps. Almost panic-liked but they’re prolonged, as if he is choking. His mind and his body have already separated due to the pure shock.

Then the pure midst of anger and deep sadness whirls in. A lot of relooking back at the situation, if there’s a threat he see’s. He already has eliminated that threat.

He’s silent throughout the time his emotions are being processed. This is like raw emotion.

I think if Levi was out per say, he would be able to compose himself. Probably giving off pure dark aura vibes. Most likely goes somewhere quiet and distant to actually cry.

Blurs of tears become visible and he’s angry.

He’s sobbing quietly but harshly whilst gripping his hair . An occasional yell between sobs, mainly directed at the world.

Afterwards, he probably just curls up and or is sitting down against the wall. Tears have stopped but his face is red.

Possibly a bottle of liquor in his free hand as he begins contemplating everything.

Finally before the night ends, he just grovels. Revenge, guilt, everything is amplified and is tucked away.

Levi definitely becomes obsessed with feelings like revenge and guilt. I don’t think he is one to accept death or betrayal lightly, he looks for answers and acts upon his reaction. Evidently becoming obsessed with feelings of revenge, guilt and anger.

Probably cleans his surroundings to help cope with the emotions.

Erwin

To have Erwin break down physically sobbing, would be like Levi. It would have to be a build of numerous feelings and experiences and no resolution being fixed.

Head in hands. He’s firstly trying to soothe himself, his mind is beginning to go into shambles.

Might croak a few chuckles when he realises he is unable to change what had happened/situation and is finding none-to little satisfying resolution.

I think to truly upset Erwin is when something so signiciant is being put on the line with little to no resolution being there. It would have to happen quick as well.

Unlike happy crying which would only occur with Erwin when it’s the birth of his children.

He physically cries with his head in his hands. It’s a soft few and deep gasps in between with his hands digging into his hair.

It takes a little bit of a while for him to stop and eventually he slows down.

Afterwards, I think he becomes tired. Lies on his bed for a while contemplating and in ways his mind probably begins to process the early stages of grief.

Hanji

Hanji seems to be a very collected and able to navigate their feelings quite strongly. They wouldn’t have outbursts of genuine sobbing like some HC make them to be. I see them being able to understand how they feel and find some resolution to cope with their feelings. However it doesn’t mean they do not cry, they are human after all.

It’ll bluntly start off slow, a creeping sensation resting on their chest like a heavy rock.

Hanji first is trying to ignore it. Coming up with reasonable thoughts, trying to understand why they are feeling this way.

If they had lost someone very significant in front of them per say, Hanji will definitely acknowledge those feelings.

First Hanji is fixated on dealing with the problem head on; this does encounter a lot of overwhelming feelings. At first they assume they can “rip it off the bandaid” in a single go.

This doesn’t work. Grief and guilt seep through and Hanji is beginning to tremble. They’re trying their best to calm down but evidently it’s not proving to work.

Hanji slowly begins to cry. Their hands hiding their face as small, quiet sobs emit into the space. It’s like a small cry.

After a while they get back up and continue with what is more important now.

Hanji probably processes their emotions differently. They’re able to understand how they feel and able to continue with the important aspects of their life. Doesn’t mean they cannot feel things.

Mike

I haven’t thought much about Mike crying. I think it will mainly be about something so shocking I.e, his s/o passing away during childbirth. Something so trivial and unforeseen would probably make him break down cry.

It starts off with shock. His whole body is in shock and he can feel the deep pits of his stomach churn.

Warm, hot tears begin to blur his vision. His hands begin trembling. Trying to wipe them profusely.

He sits down and just stares at the ground as tears begin to drop one by one.

He’s trying his hardest to look for a reasonable answer to stop himself from crying.

He wouldn’t openly or publicly be sobbing. He would most likely be in his dorm or somewhere private.

At first he’s sobbing, then he’s yelling and the scent of salt from his tears are blocking his nose.

He calms down after a while but is still sniffling. His mind is in pieces. He’s trying to regain himself and pull him back into reality. He’s mulling over significant things that need taken care of.

Say his s/o passed away giving birth to their child, he’s already cradling the baby. His eyes are red and he studies the babies sleeping features. His hand is softly stroking their head. He’s now become determined to protect this baby with his life. Probably develops a paranoid fear of losing him.

Mike will most likely will not cry again. Afterwards he’s just blank. Improvement or not, he gains more tolerance.

#attack on titan #levi x reader #erwin x reader #aot #snk headcanons #aot x reader

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joonsrack · 4 years ago

Text

Masterpiece | KTH x KNJ

+PAIRING: Kim Taehyung x Kim Namjoon

+GENRE: Oneshot, crack, angst, smidge of smut, College AU, stranger to lover

+WORD COUNT: ~13k

+RATING: 18+

+WARNING: Taehyung has face blindness, NSFW, (very) foul language, overuse of the word penis and it’s synonyms, pinning, misunderstandings, Namjoon is like real’ dumb, a little hanky panky but nothing scandalous.

+SUMMARY:

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his [REDACTED], but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung.

(OR the one where Taehyung has face blindness but that won't stop him from finding love. )

+A/N: Well, it’s been almost a year since I’ve posted anything, and almost as much time since i last wrote anything (except for the occasional guilt writing lmao). So this is me coming back with a vengeance (and the dumbest thing i’ve ever written). This is all thanks to (or to be blamed on) @minloop who put up with my non-stop messaging, gave me some plot ideas, and actually inspired me to finish this in three days. Thank you to my baby @emojihobi for the emotional support and the beta reading 💖

+Disclaimer: I got all my info on face blindness from google searches, so please forgive any inaccuracy.

Face blindness has definitely made Taehyung’s life difficult.

There’s the obvious problem of not being able to recognize your parents. Remember this childhood trauma of holding a random stranger’s hands in the mall, thinking it’s your mother or father? Taehyung had to live through that many, many times; except he wouldn’t realize until said stranger would shake his hand off, or until his parents would swoop in to get him. The fact that he’s never been kidnapped is down to pure luck, really.

Making friends, you guessed it, has also been a challenge. It’s difficult explaining to kids why you ignored them when you saw each other in the hallway. Kids don’t always understand “I didn’t recognize you” as an explanation, especially if you’ve been in the same class since pre-k.

But this? This is a new and unforeseen crisis.

His dorm room is very quiet, which is not unusual since he has a solo room. But he’s pretty sure he went to sleep with a plus one, and said plus one is nowhere to be seen.

Now, he isn’t a stranger to one-night stands sneaking out after he falls asleep. He likes to take night conquests to his dorm room for this exact reason; He can go right to sleep, while they take themselves out. Easy breezy no string attached-y. That’s usually the way he wants it to be.

But this time is different. Last night was different. Last night, Taehyung had the best night of his life, hands down. Best bangs of his existence. Bangs plural because they went more than once. How that’s even possible when his teenage years are long gone and days with multiple orgasms are less and less common, he has no idea.

He’s probably ruined for anyone else. Nothing could ever compare to the night he just spent getting his back blown out.

Now, Taehyung is a sculptor. A very gifted one at that (if his teachers’ praises are anything to go by). Taehyung knows body proportions, knows perfect rations, all that stuff. He knows it on marble bodies, in sketches, in painting. Not on actual human beings.

Until last night.

Last night, he witnessed the body of a god. He scratched at perfect skin, held on to beautifully defined and strong arms, rode perfect thighs. Last night, he shed a tear at the view of some perfect knees. Last night, he realized that art truly imitates nature.

And that’s not all.

Taehyung can admit he owns a nice dick; it’s decently shaped, the color is nice, and the size is slightly over average.

But what he witnessed the night before?

The Narcissus of dicks; the most beautiful dick on the planet. The most beautiful dick in history . Probably even prettier than Narcissus’ face himself. (But Taehyung doesn’t know what Narcissus' face looks like, so he’s only assuming.)

From the perfect red color of its beautifully shaped head to the gracefully intertwined veins leading to a sturdy looking hilt, peppered with well-kept pubic hair, ending in an exquisitely wrinkled ballsack. The girth was over average; big enough to make size queens (such as Taehyung) salivate, but not big enough to scare away enthusiasts. And the length? The dude is lucky he’s a grower and not a show-er, or he would never know peace. Mainly because the likes of Taehyung or Park Jimin would never let him be.

But where is that most perfect penis right now?

Attached to its perfectly shaped and mysterious owner, probably miles away.

Very problematic, indeed.

“So what you’re saying is, you fell asleep, and when you woke up he was gone? Isn’t that how it’s usually supposed to go?” Yoongi sounds disgruntled on the other end of the face call, face half mushed in his pillow, hair disheveled and eyes squinty. It’s not yet 1 pm after all, which is still considered morning for people like Min Yoongi.

“Noooo, not this time.” Taehyung whines,” This time he was supposed to stick around and ask me to marry him in the morning. Isn’t that obvious? We went at it four times for fuck sake, doesn’t that mean anything anymore?”

Jimin chokes on his matcha oatmeal milk latte, eyes going wide. “Four times?! Now that is a monster stamina. He basically squeezed your balls dry.” There’s a pause, then he says to someone off-camera, “It’s rude to stare, ma’am.”

“Stop ruining my morning with your screaming,” Yoongi grunts out, rubbing his eyes. “So what do you want us to do about this?”

Taehyung fumbles around his desk for a moment, looking through his piles of sketches until he finds it, his only clue.

“Do you two know this man?” He asks, pulling out a sketch he did quickly off his memory of the mystery man’s body. He pulls out a second one, this one is a close-up of his perfect penis. He might have gone off tangent with the shading, but he couldn't stop himself, that dick deserves all the shading.

“Jesus fuck.” Yoongi signs.

“Baby, I’m sure you’re aware that if I knew anyone with a body and a dick like that, you would never have been able to put your dirty paws on him.”

Taehyung turns hopeful eyes to Yoongi after glaring at Jimin for a good 10 seconds, but Yoongi only shakes his head no.

“I don’t have a habit of making my friends strip around me, sadly. I wouldn’t be able to tell even if I knew him.”

“You two are useless” Taehyung signs, his body deflating. Yoongi takes offense and hangs up. Or maybe he was going to hang up either way.

“So let me recap here, you don’t know his name, his major, his department, his age, his number, nor his face. The only clue you have is this drawing, which basically looks like a textbook example of unrealistic body expectations. You apparently know every nook and cranny of his penis, but you didn’t have the decency to ask his name? You deserve this.” He cackles, angering Taehyung.

“I was busy sucking his dick, asshole.” He spits, but Jimin only snorts in answer.

“Good luck finding the owner of Mystery Penis.” He quips back, before hanging up as well.

All hope is lost. Never in his life has he despised his face blindness as much as he does right now. Of course, it’s never been easy dealing with it throughout his life. He’s lucky he has two solid friends he can count on. Although Jimin regularly dyes and changes his hairstyle without warning to mess with him. And Yoongi basically has two hours of availability per week, usually arranged around his sleeping schedule.

But he knows they care for him, and he cares for them.

He drags his feet to class. He uses ‘class’ lightly; being a third-year means most of his courses are spent in the workshop, working on his graduate exhibition.

He’s got his trusty overalls on, covered in clay stains. He’s been working with clay for the last few weeks, using the medium for two of his exhibition pieces.

He greets his teacher at the front desk with a nod, before making his way to his desk. Today’s playlist consists of oldies, and he makes it to his desk just as Lionel Richie’s voice fills the room.

He snorts, rolling his eyes.

Hello is a classic of sculpting classes. No matter the teacher or the Instructor, they all love to play that song on repeat, and he usually doesn’t pay it any mind. But right now, isn’t there a more perfect song to taunt him?

Lionel Richie asks if it’s him he’s looking for, as he’s pulling his tool out of his bag. He unwraps the plastic wrap from around the latest project he’s been working on, already planning his next move.

He’s pretty sure the sculpting world is all over that song only because of the music video.

It’s obvious that the whole ‘blind girl sculpting’ thing–

Oh.

Oh dear god. The music video.

The music video.

Taehyung has an idea.

His hands move before he can fully realize the plan in his head, rewrapping his project, and getting some new clay from the front of the class.

His teacher looks him up and down in all his frantic and excited glory.

“A sudden stroke of inspiration?” He questions, sounding curious.

“Something like that.” Taehyung smiles, trying to act inconspicuous. His teacher won’t let him take the clay if it’s not for his graduate exhibition.

He makes it back to his station without any more inquiry and starts to work right away.

Jimin was right, he does know every nook and cranny of that penis. He spent hours getting acquainted with it, and he has an excellent memory (Except for faces, obviously).

All the other students are too busy working on their final projects to notice the massive penis under construction a few feet from them. If anyone asks, Taehyung will proudly answer that it’s a life-sized depiction. But no one is asking, so he simply works on bringing the piece to life. The students in his class rarely talk to him, since he hasn’t gone out of his way to develop any type of relationship with them. It’s easier like that.

Once he’s done, many hours later, he’s alone in the workshop with the sun setting outside.

He ogles proudly at his masterpiece, the erect penis standing tall on his station, truly a creature of beauty. It’s a perfect replica, down to the ballsack wrinkles; down to the cute mole at the hilt. Of course, it’s clay-colored, and it probably won't change since Taehyung hates painting his creations, but he’s absolutely certain that everything else is exactly like the original.

The oven has been preheating for a while, so it’s hot and ready to bake some penis. The only thing left is to leave it to cure for a while. Any ol’ regular penis would have taken less than an hour to cure, but we’re talking about a monster cock here.

He pops it into the oven, sets a timer, just in time for a knock at the door to pull him out of his penis-induced craze.

“Yo, Tae,” Yoongi’s voice resonates from the door frame.

Taehyung grabs a rag from his station to clean his hand with before making his way to his friend. There’s someone with him, and Yoongi signals at his friend with a lazy wave of his hand.

“Remember Namjoon?” He asks, but it’s a rhetorical question. Jimin and Yoongi have taken to the habit of identifying the people they’re with, so Taehyung doesn't have to embarrass himself trying to figure it out on his own. That way, they don’t have to explain his condition to every single person that isn’t in his immediate friend circle.

(Is it even a circle if it’s two people?)

He sends a nod in Namjoon’s way and gets a wave back, and that’s as far as their exchange goes, as usual. Except today, his whole body language reads nervous and tense. But that’s none of Taehyung’s business.

“We’re going to see some juniors perform in a pub, you want to come with?” Yoongi asks him, and Taehyung knows he means well, but he also knows that Yoongi knows he doesn’t like crowded spaces.

He and Jimin have tried to get him to go out more, but the only time Taehyung steps foot inside any type of alcohol selling establishment is when he wants to get laid. And there’s only one place he goes to then; that crappy little Bar near campus that’s only frequented by broke students who also want to get laid.

He doesn’t like anywhere that’s dark where there’s enough people to make him lose sight of his friends. Something about losing his parents at the mall one too many times.

“That sounds nice, but I have to finish this piece I’m working on.” He answers, trying to sound as regretful as he can. It doesn’t really work, judging by Yoongi’s unconvinced humming.

“Alright, careful when you go back home.” Yoongi finally answers, patting him on the shoulder.

He starts walking away, but his friend, Namjoon, stays frozen on the spot, facing him. He’s looking at Taehyung in some kind of way, but face blindness makes it hard for him to read other’s expressions. He raises a single eyebrow in interrogation, and that seems to make Namjoon snap out of it. He turns on his heel without as much as a goodbye, which, rude .

“'Kay, bye.” He mutters after him.

But he can’t hold it against him. He knows that ‘Namjoon’ has been a long-time friend of Yoongi and that they’ve spent some time together by association. Taehyung doesn’t go out of his way to get to know new people, so there’s a high chance Namjoon might have tried to approach him with friendship in mind, only to end up frustrated by Taehyung’s lack of interest. Happens all the time. He can’t really help it, reading intentions is not in his toolbox.

He should probably tell Yoongi to share his ‘secret’ with Namjoon. He seems nice enough from what he heard, so he would probably be understanding. It should at least clear up the misunderstanding, and Taehyung might even gain a new friend, who knows?

He makes his way back to his station, works on his actual project while the oven takes care of making his penis nice and hard.

The next morning, he wakes up to ten texts from Jimin, one from Yoongi, and multiple missed calls and voicemail from his workshop teacher.

Asshole with pink hair:

9:40 am ur crazy

9:40 am CRAZY

9:40 am This is hilarious

9:41 am That’s why i love u

9:41 am That is a beautiful dick

9:41 am Like it was nice on paper, but the 3D version definitely makes me wonder about its owner

10:26 am All the student body is buzzing about the mystery penis

10:27 am It’s on the front page of the school newspaper

10:27 am omg you dumbass u didnt write your number

10:27 am you didn't write your number anywhere brb dying of laughter

Hyungie:

11:32 am You didnt write your infos dumb dumb

Taehyung bangs his head on his pillow, hoping for quick death. How could he forget to write down his infos? How is anyone supposed to contact him?

Namjoon has come to learn quickly that university isn’t always the most sanest place on the planet. Cramming, into a single building, that amount of genius with that amount of insanity is bound to create interesting events.

He’s stopped being surprised by most things, might be guilty of doing some of those surprising things from time to time. But today? Today is on a whole new level.

Somehow, his dick is plastered all over the school, in every hallway, on every door. Think Regina George distributing the burn book copy all over school but, multiplied by 50, that’s how many pictures of his dick are distributed around school right now. Not an actual picture of his actual dick, but an actual picture of an actual clay replica, with big bold yellow letters spelling out 'HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?', and nothing else.

It’s vaguely threatening.

He wishes he couldn’t tell that it’s his penis, then maybe he could laugh with the rest of the student body. But there’s no mistaking it. One look and he knew. The person who printed those flyers made sure to include all the possible angles, too.

It’s 100% his dick.

The slight curve is there, the mole is there, everything is there.

The intentions of the maker are unclear, but there’s one thing for sure: he knows exactly who’s behind it. He only knows one sculptor who has seen his penis, and that’s the current bane of his life, Kim Taehyung.

It’s not enough that Taehyung has been completely ignoring his existence before their night of passion together, he’s also been ignoring him after.

And now this? Plastering his dick all over school? For absolutely no reason? Did he not like the night they spent together? Was this a great big ploy to make fun of him? Is this Taehyung’s way to reject him? To tell him to stay away from him? He knows he’s never been really subtle with his crush, but isn’t this going way too far?

At least he had the very, very basic decency to forgo his name from the flyers, or Namjoon might have had to run away to the next town.

Namjoon is not dumb, he knows his ancient Greece lore and what they thought about big dicks.

Taehyung didn’t write this so people would look at the dick, he’s obviously calling him a dick. And for what, pinning on him for the last year? Can’t a man have a crush in peace?

Maybe he shouldn't have approached Taehyung that night.

One thing is for sure, Taehyung is sending him a very clear message to stay away from him.

He spent a fortune printing all those hands out, and now he has to reprint them all? Taehyung knows very well he can’t afford another round of mass printing. Plus the librarian probably won’t ever let him walk into the library again. She had to come and refill the printer at least three times in the hour he was there. The environmental club was even called on scene by one of the students waiting for his turn at the printer. Talk about a snitch.

He can’t afford to reprint everything, and there’s no way he’ll go around school writing his number by hand.

He listens to the voicemails from his teacher then, uncovering a new hurdle.

The first one goes like this:

"Kim Taehyung I know it’s you, you left that thing on your desk."

Then the second:

"Kim Taehyung, you will take down these handouts right this instant before the Dean can see them, you hear me? He'll put you on probation and my head on a stick."

Taehyung muffles his groans into his pillow. Maybe it’s a good thing he forgot to include his number. He should have thought of that before.

He throws on some clothes, heeding his teacher’s warning. He better get to school quickly.

He texts Yoongi and Jimin to take down as many as they can if they want to see him live for another day. Yoongi doesn’t answer and Jimin only texts back asking if he can keep one for his room.

Some friend circle he’s got there.

He makes it onto campus in under half an hour, and gets to work, taking them down as quickly as he can.

He’s got only a few hallways left to do when someone taps him sharply on the shoulder. He spins around, dreading the moment he comes face to face with the Dean. Not that he could recognize the Dean.

“Are you the Dean?” He stammers in a small voice.

“What? No- you. I swear to god. Just tell me if you hate me that much.” Stranger says, before putting his long leg to good use, striding away from him. He throws a bunched-up flyer on the floor before disappearing down the hallway as quickly as he’s appeared.

Taehyung is stunned for a good minutes, utterly confused

The voice sounds similar, but other than that he has no idea who just spit those words at him. He doesn’t hate anyone, and he doesn't see why anyone would believe he has those kinds of ill feelings towards them.

Now that his plan has miserably failed, Taehyung falls into hopelessness once again. He lays in bed, holding his precious sculpture to himself. It’s the only thing he has left from his fateful encounter. Or he thought it was fate, but now he’s wondering if that was life making fun of him.

Jimin is laying by his side, examining the sketch of the body with clear interest. It’s making Taehyung feel a little possessive.

“Maybe you should try again in the school gym, no one gets a body like that from not going to the gym. You could say you’re looking for a model or something.”

Taehyung stares at his friend with all the admiration he can muster.

“I would kiss you so hard right now.”

“We tried that once, remember?”

“Yes, and that’s why I won’t be doing it, but I would, just so you know.”

“Cool.”

He snatches the sketch out of Jimin’s hands to get to work on the shading, trying to get his drawing as realistic looking as possible. Making a whole body out of clay would take too long, so Taehyung will have to settle for his sketch.

Once he’s done, some 30 minutes have passed. He whirl around on his desk chair, waving the sketch around successfully, only to stop dead in his tracks. He finds Jimin with his precious sculpture halfway down his throat.

“Jimin!” He exclaims, fuming. “Get your dirty mouth off my penis!”

Jimin startles and chokes in surprise, but then bursts out laughing once the sculpture is safely out of his mouth.

“Sorry, sorry. I was just really curious about the size. You never cease to amaze me.”

Taehyung snatches his precious phallus back, grabbing some tissues to wipe off Jimin's drool.

“If I can’t find him, this is going up my ass, so don’t touch it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jimin grimaces, rearranging himself on the bed. He grabs his phone to waste some time, probably ignoring his other responsibilities as the end of their final semester is quickly approaching. “You want to end up in the emergency room? Just use it to make a mold and replicate it with some silicon at least.”

Taehyung raises both eyebrows in astonishment.

“Jimin, your genius never ceases to amaze me.”

He successfully drags Jimin with him to the campus gym. Normally the prospect of hot sweaty people grunting, in various states of undress would attract Jimin like a bee to honey, but since he’s already banged or broken up with half the people that go there, Taehyung has to keep a firm hold on his friend’s wrist.

“Why do I have to come with you again?”

“It was your idea, so you’re taking responsibility.”

“I don’t like taking my responsibilities, they suck,” Jimin grumbles, but he stops trying to run away.

The moment they step into the gym, they’re assaulted by the musky smell of sweat and determination. There’s a high volume of people working out, probably wanting to channel their end-of-semester jitters into iron pumping.

Taehyung spots the front desk, putting his business smile on while reaching into his folder. He hears Jimin greet someone, going off by himself, but Taehyung bears him no mind and heads straight for the Woman working the counter.

“Hi there,” he says, charm on, “ I was wondering if you could help me out,-”

“Yes you can put your flyers up, no you don’t have to pay for it, no we won’t take it down before the end of the semester, yes I do have some tape.” She says without missing a beat, not looking up at him.

“Damn, maybe I’m here because I want to sign up for a membership.”

She finally looks up from her computer, assessing Taehyung from head to toe.

“No you don’t babe. Here’s the tape.” She says, handing him the tape while blowing a bubble with her pink gum. Multitasking at its finest.

Taehyung doesn’t feel like taking her on a debate, so he gets hold of the roll of tape and gets to work, spotting where other people left their flyers so he can put his right by them.

He scans the gym once or twice with a quick look, trying to see if, by a stroke of luck, Mystery Man could be there. No one that is shirtless has the body he’s looking for, and he sadly doesn’t have x-ray vision to check the rest. No amount of wishing as a kid made him grow that ability.

He puts up the first flyer, this time containing all his info, and stares at it proudly. He's got a good feeling about this.

Jimin finds him again as he’s putting up his last flyer, sounding excited about something.

“I had no idea Namjoon worked out. He’s got nice arms hidden beneath those sweatshirts.”

“Namjoon? Yoongi’s friend?”

“Yeah! And he changed his hair color, it looks really good on him. A little lighter than he used to have.”

Taehyung nods along, not really pressed to know more. He’s got other fish to fry.

Namjoon slowly counts to 30 after seeing Taehyung leave the premises, before he basically sprints to the nearest wall, spotting the flyers Taehyung has put up.

There’s a sketch on it, a sketch of a body. A body that looks strangely like his. He frowns, before reading the caption.

“Sculpting student looking for body model. Body must look like this. Call XXX-XXX-XXXX. Food as compensation. ”

Namjoon cannot believe his eyes. Taehyung knows he’s got that exact body type, yet he didn’t ask for his help. If he needed any other confirmation that Taehyung hates him, there’s one right there.

Just what did he do to the man to make him hate him so much?

Since he’s confronted him in the hallway, Taehyung still hasn’t reached out to him. It would be easy to do. He knows Taehyung has his number, they exchanged it when they first met, so nothing is stopping him. Unless he’s happy with the way things are.

Maybe Jimin is not as much of a genius as he thought. By the sixth person that walks in to be a body model, he realizes this is getting expensive in food bribes and studio fees. He has also stopped putting up the pretense of wanting to sketch anyone anymore.

But this time, It’s one Jung Hoseok who walks in.

“Have we slept together before?” He asks right off the bat, tired of wasting his precious time. It’s his new modus operandi; invite them in, ask the burning question, then send them on their way with the promised food to avoid complaints.

“I don’t believe so, but maybe we should fix that,” Hoseok answers, taking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Your flyers have a nude body on it, you made me come to a private studio, isn’t this a nude modeling thing?” Hoseok questions, but doesn’t stop undressing. He’s already reaching for his belt.

Something tells Taehyung this man would be really sad to be told to put his clothes back on. The way he’s unapologetically getting naked tells Taehyung everything he needs to know.

“So, why are you asking?” He inquires while posing, everything hanging loose and stuff. “Is that how you get laid? Asking hot dudes to model, then seducing them once they’re naked and vulnerable?”

Jung Hoseok doesn’t seem to be feeling very vulnerable right now, but Taehyung keeps that to himself.

“God no. Jesus that would be sleazy of me.”

“Not as sleazy as asking me if we’ve slept together 5 seconds into our first meeting.” Hoseok points out.

“ Touché. ” He admits, a soft chuckle escaping him.

Hoseok doesn’t press him for an answer, and they spend the next few minutes in silence, the only sound coming from Taehyung's pencil on the thick page of his sketchbook.

Jung Hoseok, standing confidently in front of him in all of his naked glory, has a certain aura around him. The way he holds himself, no hesitation to bare it all, head held high; it's like he never had to hide anything in his life. Like he never knew shame. To the point where it inspires Taehyung to utter the next words:

“I have face blindness.” He starts off, which gets his model’s attention. He keeps his eyes down on his paper to avoid eye contact, feeling rusty when it comes to revealing this part of himself. He continues quickly, “I had a one-night stand with this– perfect greek god. He had the perfect penis, too. Best sex of my life.” He's making good progress on his sketch, Hoseok’s body graceful and easy to put on paper. “I’m trying to find him, but I don’t know anything about him, and I can’t tell people’s faces apart." He chuckles deprecatingly, "The only clue I have is the way his body looks. So I put up this ad for body models hoping he would show up.”

Hoseok breaks his pose to slap his hands together, then pointing at him. “Oh my god, are you the one that plastered the whole school with the penis sculpture a few days ago? Was that your version of a ‘Wanted’ poster?”

Taehyung feels his cheeks warm up.

“Yeah, but I almost lost my diploma over that so let’s not mention it.”

Hoseok laughs with his whole body, clapping his hands together a few more times as if to express his excitement.

“That was the best thing to ever happen on this campus since 1993, thank you for that.”

His statement piques Taehyung's interest.

“What happened in 1993?” He asks, expecting anything but what comes outs of Hoseok's mouth next.

“My mom and dad conceived me in the bathroom of the literature wing.”

Taehyung chortles, surprising even himself with how loud it is.

“Now that’s a conception story worth telling your kids.”

“They didn't tell me; They got caught and got expelled the next day. They framed their expulsion letter, it’s still on display in the kitchen.” Hoseok’s voice is dripping with fondness, betraying his love for his family. “The thing is, I learned how to read at a very early age.”

Taehyung is possessed by another wave of uncontrollable laughter. He wipes a stray tear from his eyes, taking a second to compose himself.

“There, you’re looking a little better now. “

Taehyung looks up at the man, standing there in his birthday suit, going out of his way to cheer him up even though they’re perfect strangers.

(Maybe not so perfect since he’s seen him naked, but still.)

He chuckles again, going back to his sketching.

“Wait does this mean you don’t actually need models right now?”

“Well yeah," Taehyung answers, shrugging his shoulders, "But you looked like you would be really disappointed if I told you to stop undressing, so I just went along with it.”

Hoseok nods his agreement, going back into his original position.

“Good call. Now that we’re here you better get the shading of my calves right. They’re my pride and glory.”

“On it.”

Who would have thought that this whole ordeal would have somehow turned into Taehyung making a new friend.

He looks at the contact number in his phone staring back at him. It’s written 'Jung Hoseok' with a little sun emoji. He’s told him everything he needs to know to avoid misunderstandings, and Hoseok left with the promise to always greet him first when they see each other in the hallway. It’s sad that he only met the man in his last stretch before getting his degree, but as they say: better late than never.

He’s excited to get to know Hoseok, but he doesn’t know if he should text him first. He’s feeling a little socially rusty, having not approached anyone with the intention of being friends in a long, long time. Which is why he jumps with glee when he sees he’s got a text notification from his new friend. But then he reads the text, and the glee morphes into unadulterated excitement.

Jung Hoseok 🌞:

4:56 pm I think i know who your penis belongs to

4:56 pm can you send me a picture? I lost the flyers i kept from that time

4:59 pm You sent a picture

5:01 pm Yeah it’s really similar

5:01 pm Kim Seokjin, XXX-XXX-XXXX, probably currently working the counter at the campus coffee shop.

5:02 pm He’s tall, broad shoulders, awesome dick

Taehyung doesn’t even take the time to text back his thanks; he wraps up his project in a disorderly manner, wiping his hands on his shirt with no care in the world. He throws his backpack on and basically sprint to the coffee shop he usually tends to avoid. The owner is totally an evil capitalist, ripping off students with his overpriced coffee.

He gets there in record time, gasping for air as his poor lungs try to keep up with enough exercise to last him a lifetime.

He’s covered in clay stains, hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, clothes in dismay, lungs wheezing, so he should probably expect the next few events that unfold.

He walks into the coffee shop still out of breath, asks if Kim Seokjin is there to the first employee he sees. This is one of those times where he’s happy he can’t read people’s expressions, because he has a feeling he’s being judged very much right now.

“He… just got off his shift.” The man at the counter answers hesitantly.

“Can you tell me where he went?” And what he was wearing?” Taehyung may be sounding a little desperate, but he doesn’t have the time to care.

“He was still in his uniform, so green, and he went that way.” He indicates with a vague wave of the hand.

Taehyung starts running again, this time looking even more crazed as he scans his surroundings like a mad man, looking for someone tall with broad shoulders wearing green.

He spots him after running for a few minutes, thanking the heavens that the employee sent him in the right direction. He had every reason not to.

“Kim Seokjin!” He calls out, picking up his pace despite his lungs begging for a break. “Wait!”

He sees the man stop, take one look at him over his admittedly very large shoulders, then start sprinting away from him.

“No! Wait up!” He pushes himself harder than he ever has, his legs and lungs burning under the continuous strain, head feeling a little faint. “Please!” He calls out again in desperation. “Please look at my penis!”

This catches Seokjin’s attention, and he thankfully stops running, turning around as if to wait for him. Taehyung slows down to a jog, then to a complete stop, bending over gasping for air. Once his breathing is finally somewhat back to normal, he straightens up, only to come face to face with a bottle of pepper spray.

“W-wait!” He stutters, falling on his ass. “I swear I’m not a creep!”

“That’s exactly what a creep would say.” Seokjin answers, hovering over him threateningly, aiming the pepper spray directly at Taehyung’s face.

“I swear I just need you to look at my penis.”

This was the wrong thing to say apparently, because Seokjin gives the bottle a good shake as if to activate it. “That doesn’t sound as reassuring as you seem to think.”

“No! Wait!” He pleads again. “Not my penis.” He takes off his backpack, frantically digging through it until he finally pulls out his sculpture. “ This penis.”

Seokjin doesn’t look totally convinced, but he finally lowers his weapon. “That’s a beautiful cock.” He admits after a moment of staring in silence.

“Thank you. Is it yours?”

"I don't remember owning that sculpture."

"Not the sculpture; the Penis."

Seokjin frowns, extending his hand, and Taehyung gingerly deposits his precious sculpture into his palm. The man finally puts away his pepper spray to free both his hands. He examines the penis under every angle, trying out the hold, measuring the testicles with his palm, staring at it long and hard.

Taehyung takes the opportunity to stand back up, keeping his distance this time.

“It does look very similar,” he concludes, hands going to his chin. “But this is not my penis. I don’t have a mole there.”

Taehyung deflates. He still asks, just in case. “So we haven’t slept together?”

Seokjin gives him back his sculpture with a snort. “You don’t look like anything I've ever slept with.”

Taehyung realizes the state he’s in. He must look ridiculous right now.

“I’m from the sculpting department. I didn’t have the time to clean up. I don’t usually go around looking like I just rolled in the mud.”

“Explains a lot.” Seokjin nods, looking him up and down.

He dusts himself off as best as he can, but he can’t do much more cleaning up than that. He’ll probably have to go back home looking like that.

“So what’s your name?”

Taehyung feels dumb, he didn’t even have the decency to introduce himself before pulling out his penis. His social skills are frankly lacking.

“I’m Kim Taehyung. Sorry about all that, someone told me you could have the original version of this sculpture.”

“I’m flattered. It is pretty similar. Can I ask why you’re going around asking people to look at your– At this penis?”

Taehyung sighs deeply, looking down at the penis in his hand. He did it once, he can do it again.

“Long story short I had an amazing one-night stand with the owner of this beautiful creature, but I have no idea who he is and the only clue I have is my perfect memory of his penis.”

“Sounds like a proper modern-day Cinderella story. But how come you don’t remember his face?” Seokjin questions, a hint of worry in his voice that would make sense in any other situation than Taehyung’s.

“I…. have face blindness, it’s this whole-”

“Ah, Yes, Prosopagnosia, I heard about that in class.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, so this is my only way of finding him.”

“So the Penis Flyers-”

“Yeah, that was also me. Forgot to write down my info, got caught by my teacher, that was a whole mess.” Taehyung admits, feeling discouraged.

“So now you’re basically going around town asking every man to try on the metaphorical glass shoes.”

“Basically.”

“Maybe don’t start off with ‘please look at my penis’ next time?” Seokjin recommends, which makes sense.

“I’ve been told that asking if we’ve slept together first thing is making me sound sleazy.”

“Yeah well, asking people to look at your penis isn’t better.”

“I’ll take good note of that.”

He drags his feet all the way back home.

He sees, pushed in the corner of his room, the material he got to make a mold, and wonders if now is the time to give up.

His exhibition is coming up, this whole thing made him late on his projects, and now he’s certain he’ll never reunite with Mystery Man. Maybe Mystery Man just doesn’t want to be found. Maybe he’s seen all his attempts and has simply steered clear, avoiding him all along. Maybe it’s time for Taehyung to make himself a silicon version and move on. He’s exhausted all his options, he’s out of time, and out of ideas.

He’s reading through the molding instruction, glad that this should be easy since he’s using a sculpture and not an actual living and breathing dick, when he realizes he hasn’t exhausted all his options. There’s still hope.

He jumps in the shower, picks out an outfit befitting of his destination, and goes off with hope in his heart.

The Bar isn't too busy, this being the middle of a school week, but there’s still some people going about, sharing drinks and being loud, in total denial of the oncoming train that is the end of a semester

Taehyung spots the barman, beeline for him.

“Hey, do you know who usually works on Sundays?”

“That would be me.” Mr.Barman says, convincing Taehyung he finally has luck on his side.

Mr.Barman is on the tall side, with nice tattooed arms and wavy over-bleached hair tucked behind his ears. He’s making his forearm bulge seductively by polishing some beer glasses, and if Taehyung wasn’t on a mission to find his possible Mr.Perfect, he would be actively trying to get into his pants.

“Do you, by any chance, recognize me?”

Mr.Barman doesn’t miss a beat.

“You’re a regular. And you gave me a blowjob once. Why are you asking?”

Well, Taehyung might have many flaws but at least he’s consistent.

“I was wondering if you remembered seeing me a few weeks ago– I was with a dude, about this height, with this body,” he adds, pulling out the sketch. He looks a little crazed, once again. But it’s ok, he’s reaching for straws here. “He had dark hair, but that’s all I can tell you. See, I have face-”

“-Blindness, I know, you cry about it every time you get drunk.”

Hm. And Taehyung thought he was a character full of mystery.

“I do know who you’re talking about. He’s a regular too.”

The irritation Taehyung feels is only momentary, everything melting away with this new bit of information. Someone saw them, someone knows what his Mystery Man looks like. He didn't hallucinate the whole thing.

“Do you know his name??” He asks, pleading with his eyes. His heart is thumping wildly in his chest, desperation tangible.

“No. And he hasn’t been here since that night.” He says, crushing every hope and dream Taehyung mustered up in the last five seconds. He pauses his polishing, head tilting to the side. “But I do remember his face. I can try and draw him if you want.”

10 minutes later, Taehyung is looking at his disability in the face.

“Wow, you did it. You perfectly illustrated how people with face blindness see others.” Taehyung says, looking down at the drawing Jungkook (he asked for his name) quickly scribbled on a piece of napkin. It looks exactly like how he sees others.

Jungkook being good-natured, only laugh it off. “I can’t do much here, I’m working. But if you give me your number, I can try and do a better sketch once I get home. I’m from the painting department.”

“You would do that for me?” Taehyung asks, feeling deeply moved by Jungkook’s kindness.

“Sure, it’s good practice for my portrait class anyways. You can take this as a thank you for the blow job.”

Taehyung nods to himself.

“I do give amazing blowjobs.”

Jungkook, like any good art student, does not appreciate being rushed.

After a whole week of being told “it’s not ready yet”, Taehyung stops asking.

He also wakes up one morning and realizes he only has a few days left before his exhibition.

Not only is he not done with all his pieces, he still hasn’t started studying for his finales which happen to be the week before his exhibition, meaning, the next day.

He pushes aside any thought of Mystery Man (except when he hugs the sculpture at night, heart yearning for the original), and jumps straight into his cramming strategy, which consists of hitting himself with the books until he’s absorbed the material. If he’s not studying, taking a finale, or sleeping, he’s huddled in the workshop with the other students of his department, functioning on coffee and eating various shades of sculpting material for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. This is not what Taehyung expected when he was told that artists live from their arts.

The day before his exhibition, he’s barely feeling human, he’s got dried clay in places clay should never find itself, he doesn’t know words anymore and he has basically forgotten his own name.

No matter how fast he works, he realizes he won’t be able to finish his last pieces in time. He’s wracking his brain for a solution, thinking long and hard about just what he could do, when it hits him.

The solution is right underneath his nose;

His penis. It was always his penis.

He’s supposed to expose pieces that he finds impactful, and if there’s anything that had a big impact on his life in the last few weeks, it’s his sculpture.

He can’t tell his teacher, he’ll categorically refuse. Not after the stunt he pulled with the flyers. Plus he wouldn't understand the cultural reset it was for Taehyung, finding and crafting that beautiful creature.

So he sets to work in secret. It shouldn’t be too hard, he hasn’t printed his labels yet. Plus the students are in charge of installing their own corner, meaning he can wait until the very last moment before the opening to put his penis on display.

He needs to find a name for his sculpture, so he texts his friends for help, but as usual, they are unhelpful.

Asshole with pink hair:

6:45 pm ‘ Suck on that’

Hyungie:

6:45 pm why are you asking me idk

Jung Hoseok 🌞 :

6:50 pm “ Long lost lover”

He’s glad to see that his new friend will fit right in once he introduces him to everyone.

He isn’t satisfied with the answer he gets, so he sends more text.

Kim Seokjin:

7:05 pm “Is this your penis?”

7:06 pm Or better yet, “HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PENIS?”

7:06 pm that way people will understand how current your art is

7:10 pm Also I didn’t give you this number to chitchat

7:10 pm after we find out his identity im cutting all ties with you

7:11 pm Im just feeling invested right now

7:11 pm that’s all

7:17 pm Where’s your exhibition again?

Jeon Jungkook barman and artist:

9:56 pm idk

9:56 pm im almost done with the portrait btw

9:56 pm you mind if I use it for my exhibition

9:56 pm im really proud of it

So not much more help on that side either.

The next day, Taehyung is busy setting up his corner and feeling emotional over his last exhibition.

He’s done with uni. He can go off into the world and live from his art. Or more like, he’ll first find a side job that’ll suck the life out of him, to pay for his art. Then he’ll spend a few years regretting every decision that led him to be an artist, but just as he’s about to give up, his sculptures will be noticed by a mysterious millionaire that’ll commission him thousands of dollars at first. He’ll refer him to his rich friend who will be all over his art and will throw their money at him.

Yeah, it’s a nice pipe dream.

He makes sure all the labels are in place, the lights are hitting his pieces in all the right way, and that no one notices him putting his penis in the middle of his space 30 seconds before they open the doors.

By the time his teacher notices, it’s already too late; the place flooded with friends, family, and even the occasional art critics that the university invited.

It’s not like his penis feels out of place in his setup. Most of his pieces are on the theme of the human body; studies of movement, skin texture, whatnot. If you look at it as a whole, you almost have a whole body. The only thing missing is a face, which is extremely fitting for Taehyung.

The wave of people coming is not preferable for Taehyung, since he doesn’t like crowded places. He’s never been a fan of their exhibition opening nights over the years. He keeps himself busy by trying his best to merge with the wall while people circle his pieces. His friends know he won’t be able to recognize them in the crowd, so they’ll come to him by themselves, he simply has to make himself visible.

“Hey babe,” Jimin says with mirth in his voice, “Is that greek?”

“Yeah” Taehyung answers, fixing his eyes on his most beloved and central piece.

“I didn’t know you knew greek”

“I don’t, but Google does.”

The Penis is standing directly underneath his own spotlight, looking like a beacon of light, grabbing the envious stares of the people around it.

There’s a little white label by its base:

Kim Taehyung

πέος, 2021

Red Clay

(if you recognize this penis, please ask for the artist)

“ What does it mean?”

“ Penis ”

Jimin hums, crossing his arm over his chest. “I guess I was not expecting anything less.”

Yoongi chooses that moment to appear, whistling his praise.

“So you did work this semester.” He jokes, bobbing his head with approval.

“Har, har.” Like he’s one to talk. He basically spent the last few months becoming one with his bed.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he expects it to be Hoseok or Seokjin telling him they’re here, but instead it’s from Jungkook, and it’s a picture.

A little gasp of surprise escapes him.

His hands shake as he opens up the text app, his heart thumping as the picture loads. He presses on it once it’s ready, taking up the full screen, and Taehyung can finally-... well, Taehyung can’t do anything with that. His case of face blindness is pretty severe, so even drawings are unrecognizable for him. But it’s something! A new clue! He can make a flyer out of this! He can-

“Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?”

Time stops.

Yoongi’s voice echoes in his head, mocking him, but also stealing the carpet right from underneath his feet.

Why do you have a portrait of Namjoon on your phone?

A portrait of Namjoon

Namjoon

Namjoon, who stood in front of him silently, that day Yoongi invited him out, probably expecting some kind of reaction from Taehyung.

Namjoon who frequents the campus gym.

Namjoon, who’s tall and broad-shouldered.

Namjoon, who’s been around Taehyung for a while but was never told about his condition.

Namjoon, who probably thinks Taheyung has been ignoring him all this time.

“Jesus fucking christ, My Mystery Man Is Kim Namjoon.”

Both his friends voice their confusion as Taehyung tries to rip his hair from his head.

“This penis belongs to Kim Namjoon, who doesn’t know I have face blindness, and who probably think I’ve been ignoring him all this fucking time.”

“Holy shit,” Yoongi says at the same time as Park Jimin, that prick, starts cackling uncontrollably. Taehyung always knew he was evil.

“This is- I’m so sorry but- This shouldn't be funny– But I can’t, it’s too funny.” He wheezes out in between laughter. “He was right there, probably confused as hell as to why you were showing his dick to everyone- I’m sorry this is so funny but also so, so sad. You never- oh my god.”

Under the attention of about half the gallery, he wipes the tears from his eyes, body convulsing with laughter.

“What the fuck are you waiting for.” He finally manages to say, taking a deep breath. “Hyung, didn’t you drag him here tonight?”

That seems to snap Yoongi out of his stupor.

“Fuck, yes he’s here, he’s... There!-” He says pointing somewhere, but then his voice dies down. “And now he’s leaving...”

Taehyung spots the man with a black cap currently walking out the exit with an angry stride. He reacts on instinct, running after his Not So Mysterious Man Anymore.

Kim Namjoon is having a very no good, very bad day.

Not because of school, no. He aced all his finales, he doesn’t even need to get his grades back to know.

Not because of the weather either. No, it’s a beautiful spring day, and there’s a hint of cherry blossom in the air, wrapping the world in a romantic tint.

No, the reason he’s having a very no good very bad day, is because he can’t, for the love of God, get Kim Taehyung out of his head.

It started with a very interesting dream, clearly drawing inspiration from the night they spent together. It woke him up at the crack of dawn, sweating up bullets and hard as a rock. Finding sleep afterward was nearly impossible, meaning his first precious day of vacation started way too fucking early.

Now music theory never sleeps, so he simply spent his morning trying to forget his dream, channeling all his energy on composing.

But then Min Yoongi, long-time friend and co-compositor, had to go and ruin his fragile peace of mind by reminding him he had two tickets for the sculpting department exhibition, and Namjoon was obligated to show up. Meaning he would inevitably run into Kim Taehyung; Meaning he would agonize about him all day; Meaning , that he would be thinking about Kim Fucking Taehyung all day.

But it’s ok, because he was finally starting to come to terms with that too. Taehyung would probably ignore him again, and all he needed to do was circle the gallery once and get the fuck out.

But no.

Oh no.

Life had better plans.

Because right into the center of Taehyung's exhibition space, is his very own penis, standing proudly, mocking him.

He can recognize it from the flyers, so he knows instantly that it’s Taehyung’s work.

He’s stunned by the audacity, wondering once again what he did to draw Taehyung’s ire upon himself. The flyers were not enough, no he had to go and put it on display as his final fuck you to Namjoon. Even wrote 'penis' in greek as a title, confirming Namjoon's theory that this is all a ploy to make fun of him.

Namjoon has had enough, he’s getting the fuck out of there.

He spins on his heel at the speed of light, taking advantage of every inch of his long legs to walk out as fast as possible. He ignores the call of his name that follows after him, readjusting the cap on his head.

He’s fuming, feeling tears of frustration building up. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s been nothing but respectful of Taehyung. He’s been staying away from him too.

He doesn’t deserve this.

He makes it a few blocks before his phone starts going off every 5 seconds with incoming texts, forcing him to finally look at it.

Yoongi Hyung:

6:14 pm Before anything, know that Taehyung suffers from severe face blindness.

6:14 pm I know you know what that means you wikipedia rat

6:15 pm I didn’t tell you cause it’s none of my business who he chooses to tell

6:15 pm But the dumbass has been trying to find you for weeks using your dick because he had no other way to identify you

6:15 pm Your pinning hasn't been exactly subtle either

6:16 pm he ran after you when you left but I bet he’s pleading with the wrong person in the street right now

6:17 pm Nice dick by the way

He rereads the series of text to try and make sense of them. Only after the third read, does he finally understand.

Well, shit.

“Please Namjoon listen to me, you have to listen to me, I didn't mean to ignore you, I just didn't know it was you!-” Taehyung pleads, holding on to his sleeve.

“Can you please let go of me?!”

His voice sounds a little older than what Taehyung remembers, but he doesn’t have the time to think too much about that. Maybe he’s got a cold or something.

“-I can explain everything if you can just give me two minutes-”

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m not this kind of person.”

Taehyung isn’t deterred, holding on to him desperately “-Please I swear just two- no, one minute, even one minute is enough-”

Someone clears their throat, tapping him softly on the shoulder.

“Sorry sir, I believe my friend here is mistaking you for me.”

Now that’s a familiar voice. A voice he recognizes from many occasions.

Taehyung lets go of his poor unsuspecting victim, taking a step back which is all it takes for them to run away from him.

He finally comes face to face with the source of all his past weeks' torment.

The height is there, the shoulders are there, the body proportions are there, the hair color is completely different, but Jimin did mention he changed it recently. He’s got the black cap on, the one that made Taehyung mistake a perfect stranger on the street for him.

It’s him. He found him. It’s his Mystery Man, his cinderella. He’s got him.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes, that’s me.” He confirms, voice gentle.

“Kim Namjoon.” He repeats, trying the name out on his tongue. His body is filling up with butterflies, and he can’t feel his toes.

“And here I thought you just could never remember my name.”

“I can explain–” He rushes, eager to get rid of the misunderstanding.

“It’s ok, Yoongi told me.”

“And about your penis–”

“Yes, Yoongi told me about that too.” Namjoon cuts him off, the tip of his ears getting pink.

“I’m so sorry– I should have asked your name then. I mean– you made me come four times .”

Namjoon chuckles, catching one of Taehyung’s hands mid flail and holding it with both of his, making his heart jump.

“We’ve basically known each other for years, so maybe it’s a good thing you didn’t. I don’t think I would have appreciated it then.”

“I guess that’s true. I’m still sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, I could have come up to you first. I mean, I’m the one who sneaked out in the morning. I had an 8 am class, by the way. I didn’t leave because I wanted to. But you have my number so… I assumed you would call me. ”

“I have your number...?” It's pretty vague, but it does ring a bell. He's got a blurry memory of time, around their first meeting, when Namjoon and he had exchanged their numbers for Yoongi related reasons. “That’s right, I do have your number. Fuck.”

“Well, I know now this wouldn’t have changed anything for you, since you simply didn't know it was me you were with.” Namjoon snorts, but not unkindly. More at the situation.

But Taehyung still feels terrible.

“I’m so sorry.” He whines, feeling like burying his face in Namjoon’s chest. But they’re not there yet. “I tend to keep people at a distance to avoid misunderstandings.”

“It’s ok, I get it now. I guess I wish I knew before, but I get it now.”

“Good. I should have told you sooner. I was actually planning on doing it soon if that’s any consolation.”

“It is.” Namjoon murmurs, inching closer to him.

“Cool, cool cool.” Taehyung blurts out nervously.

This is it. This is his chance. Everything that has transpired in the last few weeks is leading up to this moment.

"So," Namjoon starts when Taehyung has been silent for too long. "Yoongi said you were looking for me... Any particular reasons?"

"Well, yes." He answers but stops. All of this means nothing. It doesn't mean that Namjoon will accept to go out with him. He has no idea how Namjoon feels about him, and he sure as hell cannot tell by his facial expression. He's going in blind, no reason to believe that Namjoon wants to have to do anything with him. For all he knows, Namjoon is only here to settle the misunderstanding, and then be on his way. Maybe he's even mad about the penis flyers.

But then he also remembers that Namjoon is holding his hand right now. It's now or never.

He takes a deep breath for bravery and goes for it.

“Kim Namjoon, can I please take you out on a date?”

Namjoon doesn’t let him second guess himself, word leaving his mouth as fast as a blink.

“Absolutely.”

Apparently, they’ve gathered a crowd because there’s cheerful hooting and shouting erupting around them. But Taehyung pays them no mind as he goes in for a hug, Namjoon meeting him halfway.

“Wait, wait,” Namjoon says, suddenly, taking a step back. “I still don’t know why you put my penis on display at the center of your exhibition.”

Taehyung chuckles, bringing Namjoon back in.

“Simple, ‘cause it’s a masterpiece.”

2 months later

There’s a knock at the door, which throws Taehyung off. He’s getting ready for his date with Namjoon– their actual first date– and is not expecting anyone. Jimin knows the code, so it can’t be him, unless–

“Hello sir, would you be open to receiving the words of our lord and savior, Jesus Christ?”

“Jimin, I swear to god, I can tell it’s you by your voice. And no one from church would dress like you do, slut.”

Moving in with Jimin is as much a blessing as it is a curse. A blessing because, well, they’re best friends. A curse because his best friend’s favorite hobby is to try and prank him. Taehyung almost misses the time where Jimin was treating his face blindness as a taboo.

Almost.

The last two months have been a whirlwind of life-changing events for Taehyung.

First, moving in with Jimin is a pretty big deal. Not only has Taehung been living alone for the last three years, living with someone is sometimes a challenge for him. Wondering why a stranger is standing in your kitchen at 3 am, brain slowed down by sleep and the weak lighting not helping, isn’t always a recipe for success. But he’s slowly getting used to it, and Jimin, as much as he can be a prick, is being patient with him.

The second big event is, well, his current job. Somehow his workshop teacher, even after everything, recommended him for a job at a sculpture academy. He now teaches different types of sculpting medium to children, four nights a week. Pretty sweet gig.

At first, he was going crazy out of his mind worrying about working with children, but four weeks in and he’s feeling confident. He sat down with the kids the first week to explain to them what face blindness is, and although the children were initially confused, they now enjoy switching names with each other for the duration of his classes, to mess with his head.

Jokes on them, Taehyung also called their parents during that first week. So far, none of the children have noticed that their parents have been making them wear certain accessories every time they leave for the academy. Checkmates.

And the last big event, of course, is Namjoon.

In between moving, his new job, and Namjoon’s own busy schedule, they have yet to go on an actual full-blown date. But they’ve slowly been getting to know each other. They make time to go on quick coffee dates sometimes, and they text none-stop. Namjoon hasn’t seen his new place yet, but they’ve hung out at Namjoon’s plenty of time.

His boyfriend (he gets giddy thinking about that word) also showed up at the academy a few times to walk him back home (The first time he kept it as a surprise, but he quickly realized Taehyung didn’t like surprises; especially when it means having a tall stranger approach him in the dark without saying anything. Now he texts beforehand.)

“Do you like this outfit? Or should I go with my floral button-up?” He asks Jimin, who’s lounging on his bed after his failed prank attempt.

“Why are you so stressed? It’s not like it's the first time you two see each other.”

“Because the chances of me getting laid tonight are extremely high and I want to look good.”

“Oh?” Jimin perks up, knowing full well Taehyung and Namjoon have been taking their time to get to know each other. “Should I sleepover at Hobi’s tonight?”

Another new development from the last two months: Jimin and Hoseok’s instant attraction. They’ve been dancing around each other since the exhibition, but it looks like it’s finally getting ‘ sleeping-over-at-each-others-place ’ serious.

“...Good idea,” Taehyung answers, not because he wants the house to himself (though it’s a nice perk), but he likes giving a little push to love sometimes.

His friend circle can finally be called a circle now. Somehow, Hoseok, Seokjin, and Namjoon just naturally fit into his now actually social, social life. Namjoon was the easiest since he already knew Yoongi and Jimin. Hoseok got it easy by becoming Jimin’s more-than-friend, and Seokjin just showed up one day with a video of that time, outside the gallery, when Taehyung thought an older gentleman was Namjoon because of his black cap.

He looks at the time, curses when he realizes he’s going to be late. He grabs his wallet and puts on his shoes in a rush, and makes it out the door accompanied by Jimin shouting “Don’t you dare fuck on the couch or you’re buying a new one!”

He makes it to the Bar with only a few minutes to spare, and as luck would have it, Jungkook is working. He’s come to recognize his tattooed arm and bleached locks instantly.

Namjoon would have texted him if he was there, which means he’s cutting it close as well, so he sends a quick ‘here 💖’ text before sitting down at the Bar with a big smile.

“You make me want to puke,” Jungkook says, disgust dripping from his words.

“Hey now don’t be jealous, I’m sure you’ll find yourself a monster cock as well one day.”

Somehow, he and Jungkook started texting on a semi-regular basis. It’s mostly Jungkook begging Taehyung to introduce him to Seokjin (apparently he’s been crushing on the man since he first saw him at the coffee shop), which Taehyung has to find excuses every time to avoid telling Jungkook the cold, harsh truth.

(“I don’t date men with bleached hair, it ruins my whole aesthetic.” Jin said after the first time Taehyung asked. Which aesthetic he’s talking about, Taehyung has no idea.)

But that also means that Jungkook has heard all about his very fascinating and blooming love story with Namjoon.

“Did you tell Seokjin I said hi?”

“Dude, just go and ask him out. You know where he works, you know where he studies, you even know his birthday, which is really creepy when you two have never talked by the way. Just, go ask him out, he won’t be able to resist you once he actually sees how attractive you are.” He pauses for a second, then adds for safety measure, “But if he reaches in his pocket, just run the other way.”

“What?”

“Don’t ask, just trust me.” Taehyung has some unpleasant flashbacks of a bottle of pepper spray being waved in front of his face. He shakes his head to try and get rid of the memory.

“And how would you even know that I’m attractive, you don’t actually know what I look like.” Jungkook retorts.

“Shut up, just go and ask him.”

“Just go and ask him what?” A familiar voice asks from behind him, and Taehyung's smile is back full force. He rotates on his chair and jumps into Namjoon’s arms, hearing him groan under the strain of his weight. He can hear Jungkook fake gagging behind him, the actual child.

They share a quick kiss before they both sit down at the bar.

“You’re not seriously thinking about having your date here, are you?”

Taehyung snorts, tempted to mess with Jungkook, but Namjoon is the one to answer.

“No we just wanted to get the evening started with a nice drink, but we have a reservation to an actual fancy restaurant, paid graciously by Taehyung's actual serious adult job.”

“Is it a serious adult job if he had to stop a kid from eating his donut-shaped clay yesterday?”

“Shut up. If you keep being like that I’m going to order the most annoying thing on the menu.”

Jungkook scoffs and walks away, without actually taking their orders.

They both watch him do a big show of ignoring them, answering other customers without turning in their direction.

“Let’s just get out of here.” Namjoon whispers in his ear. “We can go waste time walking around aimlessly, hand in hand.”

“God, you’re so cheesy,” Taehyung mutters, but he actually loves it.

His dating experience before Namjoon amounts to an enormous zero, but it’s not because he’s one of those unattainable, i-don’t-believe-in-love types of people that live rent-free in Hollywood movies. He simply never thought it would be possible to get close to someone romantically with his condition. But since officially meeting Namjoon, he’s been researching, and turns out, he totally can.

There are even people, artists like him, who've noticed that repeatedly drawing or painting their loved one has made them actually able to remember their face (not 100% of the time, but he’ll take what he can get.). So he’s been sketching, using pictures, trying out different angles. He’s planning on using clay at one point. He’s totally the girl from Lionel Richie’s music video. Which makes Namjoon Lionel Richie.

“Did you know that I was inspired by Lionel Richie’s music video to sculpt your penis?”

Namjoon chuckles under his breath, squeezing Taehyung’s hand just a little bit more. The hot summer air is making their palms sweaty, but they both don’t care.

“Where is that thing, by the way? It’s been a while since I’ve last seen it.”

“I put it on my bedside table when I moved in and I haven't moved it since. I’m thinking about making it into a lamp. I have to keep it out of reach of Jimin and Hoseok, they both seem a little too interested.”

Namjoon grimaces. Or Taehyung is assuming that’s his grimacing face.

“Please never let it fall into their hands.”

“I swear on my honor, I shall protect your penis.”

“Thank you, I feel better now. I still can’t believe they put it on the first page of ‘Sculpting Now’. Crazy how all of your friends and the sculpting world know what my dick looks like.

“It’s a masterpiece. If it was mine I would never keep it in my pants, I’d always want to show it off.”

“How are you not in prison right now?”

“I don’t have your dick in my pants, sadly. Did you know that Seokjin almost pepper-sprayed me the first time we met? In retrospect, having a stranger run after you, pleading for you to look at their dick is a good excuse to pull out your pepper spray.”

“Wait, you did what?”

“It was all in the name of love.”

Namjoon shakes his head, probably disappointed in him.

Namjoon is utterly enamored. Every time Taehyung recalls a story from when he ran around school trying to find him, he falls a little bit more in love.

He was so nervous for their first romantic date that he couldn’t eat during the day, but Taehyung is making him feel at ease, as he usually does, so hunger is coming back with a vengeance.

“Should we go to the restaurant now?” He asks, pulling Taehyung along with him. "It's almost time."

“Let’s.” Taehyung agrees readily, “I’m ravenous.”

They quickly make their way to the restaurant, only to find its door closed. There’s a sign in the window reading “Closed for vermin infestation”.

“Oh.” Namjoon says, “Dammit. That’s not good.”

There’s this awkward silence, filled with growling sounds from both their bellies. It’s too late to make reservations anywhere nice, and anywhere else risks being too loud for a romantic Rendez-Vous. Namjoon is scrambling his brain for a solution when Taehyung’s shy voice interrupts.

“Hum, if you want to– Jimin told me he wouldn't be home tonight, so… You want to come over? We can pick up some ramen on the way.”

Taehyung’s face might be neutral, but the blush growing on his cheeks is anything but. Namjoon takes a moment to appreciate the sight that he makes, burning up in embarrassment. Without the blushing, Namjoon would have believed he’s only inviting him for ramen, but the angry red of his cheeks is definitely betraying Taehyung’s intentions.

He nods his agreement, feeling anticipation replace hunger in the pit of his stomach.

Having Namjoon in his space is a new experience.

The apartment is still messy from their move, boxes lying around, but they’ve managed to make it quite homey. Everything that is necessary to their everyday life has been unboxed, only the odd objects being ignored by Jimin and him.

He puts on some soft music to set a nice mood, and Namjoon is humming along straight away, which is all the approval he needs to feel confident about his music selection. Music Theory graduate approved.

He gets to work on the ramen while he directs Namjoon on where to find a cheap bottle of wine and some wine glasses. He sets the table, trying to make it as nice as possible, but it’s really just a pot of bubbling ramen and two bowls with some chopsticks.

They eat in comfortable silence, the music playing in the background mixing with the sound of their eating.

But then Namjoon dumps the content of his wine glass on his tan-colored pants, and it’s downhill from there.

“Damn it!” He curses, jumping to his feet. He grabs some napkins to try and pat some wine off, but it’s already been absorbed by his fancy suit pants.

“Quick, take them off,” Taehyung says, not thinking too hard and only reacting to the situation at hand. “Let’s rinse them in the sink.”

Namjoon complies, taking them off in record time, passing them on to Taehyung like it’s a relay race.

Taehyung deposits them straight in the sink, opening the tap and letting the water hopefully get rid of most of the stain. They both stand there for a minute, staring at the water filling up.

But then it hits Taehyung that Namjoon’s thighs are currently bare and in his vicinity. He sneaks a quick peek to satisfy his horny brain, but he’s quick to snap his eyes back to the sink to avoid doing anything stupid.

Like, let’s say , dropping to his knees.

He can feel himself blushing, his cheeks, ears, and neck feeling hot. He knew exactly what he was doing, inviting Namjoon for some ramen, but now that he can act on it, he’s suddenly feeling very shy.

Plus, not being able to read facial expressions never really impaired his ability to get laid. He used to just– go to the bar, wait until someone would offer him to get out of there, and go for it.

But this is not a bar, and Namjoon won’t ask him if he wants to get out of there. He has no idea how to tell if Namjoon wants to jump into bed with him. Or not.

He takes matters into his own hands.

“So, as you know,” He starts, staring intently at the water flowing out of the tap, “this whole face blindness thing– I can’t really read your facial expressions. So in the future, it’ll be hard for me to figure out if you’re angry or happy, or sad, or… or horny. I’ve never done this whole– Romantic relationship thing, but I’m guessing we’re going to have to be really vocal with how we’re feeling, what we want, whatnot.”

He lets his statements hang in the air, staring at the stain that doesn’t seem to want to go away. He’s thinking maybe this will have to be removed professionally.

But then, Namjoon chooses that moment to drop a soft kiss on his nape.

“Are you asking me, right now, if I want you?”

Taehyung turns around, letting himself be cornered against the counter. Namjoon has his nicely defined biceps, somehow peeking through his suit vest, on each side of him. He absolutely loves it.

“Yes. I am.”

Namjoon kisses his neck once again, and Taehyung is this close to losing it.

“I absolutely want you.” His boyfriend finally answers, landing a heavy kiss on his lips, sucking all the air out of Taehyung’s lungs.

After turning Taehyung’s inside to mush via lips on lips crime, he returns to his assault on Taehyung’s neck, peppering the skin he can reach with sweet kisses, each one sending electricity straight to his groin.

“Do you want me?” Namjoon questions softly into his ear, making Taehyung's eyes roll back so far he’s scared they’ll never come back.

“Fuck yes.” He grinds out, voice turning to a whine when Namjoon, emboldened by Taehyung’s enthusiasm, rocks his pelvis into his in a languid motion.

He sees white then, bringing Namjoon’s mouth back to his, smashing their mouths together in a wet and messy kiss.

“How important are your pants?” He inquires in between kisses, enjoying the slow grinding Namjoon has going on. He’s still in his suit pants, but Namjoon only has the thin cotton of his boxer brief as a barrier. Taehyung can clearly feel his monster cock waking up from its slumber.

“Not very important.” He finally answers, hands letting go of the counter to firmly grab at Taehyung’s ass.

Taehyung can proudly say he’s got a fat ass, and Namjoon seems to appreciate it if the growl that escapes him is anything to go by.

He gets to work on the buttons of Namjoon’s dress shirt, Namjoon getting the message and taking his vest off by himself. Soon he’s standing there in only his boxer briefs and socks, while Taehyung is still fully dressed.

It’s kind of hot.

They slow it down a little, Taehyung pushing Namjoon away so he can take a good look at him.

The light of the kitchen falls almost gracefully over Namjoon’s defined chest, creating shadows that chisel out his muscles even more. It’s a sight to behold.

He drags his hands down Namjoon's body, teasing a nipple as he goes with a flick of the thumb, mapping out his taut stomach with the tip of his finger, then coming back up to hold onto his strong shoulders.

“You know, I’m like, really good at massages. I feel like this is something you should know.”

Seems like this is all the time Namjoon will allow him away from him. He reels him back in with an arm around his waist, the other taking hold of one of Taehyung’s hands and bringing it to his mouth. He nips at his fingers, maintaining eye contact while he uses his tongue to soothe the sting.

How he’s even real is beyond Taehyung.

“Do you need help undressing?” Namjoon teases, reaching for his belt.

“Let me close the tap and we can move this to my room.”

Namjoon doesn’t give him a response, only cages him once again against the counter, plastering the full length of his warm body to his. He reaches behind Taehyung and moments later, the soft ambiance music is the only thing they can hear again.

Taehyung leads him to his bedroom, taking off his vest as they go. Somehow Namjoon already got his belt buckle, so he unceremoniously drops his pants to the floor, then jumps on his bed.

“Welcome to my room. That’s my desk, that’s my bedside table, that’s a replica of your penis, but I heard the original is planning on making an appearance tonight. This is my bed. Hope you enjoyed the tour.” He finally gets to the final button, looking up eagerly as he sends his shirt off to the side, wondering what’s taking Namjoon so long to get on the goddamn bed.

He finds his lover completely captivated by his penis duplicate.

“You’ve got the same one in your pants, you know. Get you your ass over here.”

“Sorry I was just thinking… it’s crazy how similar you made it only from your memory.”

“Excuse me?” Taehyung objects, crossing his arms over his chest. “They’re not just similar, they’re identical.”

“Only one way to check, is there?” Namjoon taunts, before finally, finally getting rid of his briefs, releasing the Kraken.

Except he also grabs hold of the sculpture, bringing it close so he can do a side-by-side comparison.

“You’re right, it is identical. How did you even manage that?” He says, awe in his voice. “Have you ever used it on yours–”

Namjoon loses his train of thought as he takes in the sight of Taehyung, laying in bed completely naked, pumping himself at a leisurely pace and looking very unimpressed.

“No, I haven’t. But if you don’t get into bed in the next 5 seconds I just might consider it.”

Namjoon doesn’t have to be told twice.

#bangtanidx #bangtanarmynet #houseofddaeng #mikrogalaxynet #boymeetsmxm #bangtanxm #kim taehyung #kim namjoon #min yoongi #kim seokjin #park jimin #jung hoseok #jeon jungkook #bts fic #taejoon #taejoon fic #taehyung x namjoon #v #rm

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senju-sekhmet · 4 years ago

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The Leash (Part 9)

Summary: Your rescue was supposed to be as smooth as these missions can be. However very quickly, Tobirama faces off against an enemy that has no form, color or smell - and time is running short, very fast. Unless he figures out what truly holds you hostage, your life will be lost. Warnings (for the finished work): Blood, illness, descriptions of heavy injuries and graphic violence, torture (both depicted and implied), needles, morally grey territory, human experimentation, panic attacks, character death, angst with a happy ending ~6000 words (this chapter, finished work: 80.000) Previous: Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8 Read on AO3! Disclaimer below the cut! more updates. is it really a disclaimer still, i wonder lmao

DISCLAIMER! we are nearing the grand finale of this fic!! please stick until the very end okay?! i know this chapter might be a little bit of a drag - it’ll get better, promise. <3 Other than that: enjoy my very self indulgent work, filled with my own headcanons and angst galore. Let me know what you think and thank you so much for reading!!!! ________ Leaving you had been a real test of will. Not only were you in such a deplorable state overall, but also your request - it was quite obvious you were putting on a brave face, but the truth of the matter was you weren’t faring well, at all. It was the little signs that gave you away - the slight tremor in your voice sometimes. The gallows humour. He didn’t want to think about what the withdrawal had been like for you. But he could well imagine. And as per usual, he was helpless except to unravel how to produce more of this damned leash. He couldn’t even heal you or alleviate some of your exhaustion at this point.

By the time he had reached the laboratory he was frustrated beyond measure, sick from guilt and his heart was aching that if he didn’t know better, he might as well think he was sick. He wasn’t, of course. But eliciting such bodily responses due to his emotional state was something entirely foreign to Tobirama. He was - always had been - subject to his moods, sure. And the people around him would know his sour moods, especially. But would he carelessly act on them, or physically feel them like this? No. Luckily it was the middle of the night and there had been nobody around to witness the somber scowl he was wearing. Not that he cared, anyway.

In the grand scheme of things, that was the least of his concerns.

He had contemplated testing his newest result on another prisoner, but ultimately decided against it. The best he could hope for was a prolonged time of muting the victim’s chakra. What he really needed to start working on now was to weave the second component in, the disruption. And since he had four vials available, that offered a variety of options. He’d leave one untouched, to be safe - and work on one for now to start with that.

The first problem was to imagine how he’d want the disruption to kick in. He knew from examining your blood and also the reaction you’ve shown that it took some time for the disruption to kick in. He had deduced it must be because of the chakra muting component - it covered the disruption up to leave a timeframe in which a victim was not threatened by it. When it faded, only the disruption remained, the lethal withdrawal kicked in. Therefore, the chakra needed for this would need to last longer, adhere to the victim almost like a brand and be intense enough to cause these effects. He did have a vague idea how to achieve this - but to compress it into such a small vial was… daunting.

What’s new, he somberly figured to himself.

And just as he imagined, this proved to be even more complicated than weaving the first component in. Not only did he have to treat delicately, but also be extremely careful to not destroy the structures he had worked so hard to get into that vial in the first place. He didn’t quite succeed in that - partly, the muting component took damage. The whole process felt as though he needed to weave chakra inbetween what was already in the vial - as if he was transplanting it onto the already delicate structure he had created. It was endlessly frustrating. Frankly everything about this was so demanding, at times he wondered if there really was no other option to get a cure.

Like torturing the prisoners to a maximum.

The more time he spent threading the more he became convinced there must be some trick to it. That, or it required an intense amount of training. If it was the latter, then he’d be facing a new problem.

He’d deal with that when it came to it. His plate was full as it was.

Once he got a hang of how to weave it in without wrecking the delicate structure of the first pattern, his gaze swept to the clock. It was long past midnight. Time for a small break. As much as he hated it, he didn’t want to use his clones yet again - he needed to figure this out more, firstly. If he had no real idea where to truly go with this, his clones’ works would just ramp up more exhaustion. More he needed to sleep off. Besides, this would not be so much of a break - though you were stable, he simply didn’t like the thought of leaving you alone. Not after your request - not after seeing you in your frightfully weak state. He had to check on you, as he promised.

He teleported back into your dimly lit room. Briefly, he gazed out of the window - the sky was clear, the moon shone bright and there were a million stars alongside it. It was beautiful. Silently, he walked to your bedside again to find you had your eyes closed. Finally - finally your face seemed peaceful. Gaunt, for sure, but not in pain. Tobirama settled down into his chair and laid his hand on yours, as lightly as he could to not wake you up. Very slowly he let his chakra skim over your network to find it dormant as well, pleased you still were asleep. Equally slow, he increased the connection to examine you as softly as possible. As usual, the injuries, microscopic tears, tissue damages and healing bits were too numerous to count. And there also was the general lack of reserves overall - a result from the strain put on you by the stretching of the interval no doubt. Even so, your cardiovascular situation was superior and no organ showed any sign of dysfunction. A pleasant surprise - compared to before, you were doing even better. Seems that aside from the exhaustion you had recovered well from their first stunt. He withdrew quickly before you could notice his presence and leaned back in his chair.

Had they gone by their normal schedule, you’d be left with four and a half days now. And Tobirama hadn’t even yet produced something that was anywhere near the leash. For all the grief it had put you through, it was a small victory. Admitting this felt wrong, though - despicable. It was the method. And he wasn’t sure how much time they’d gain from this, overall. His medical expertise wasn’t comparable to his brother’s, but he didn’t think you’d keep up lengthier intervals. Maybe if you’d been in peak physical condition.

He groaned slowly, rubbing a hand over his face.

Part of him didn't want to think anymore, now. He felt stretched out, thin. Spent. But of course, his mind wouldn't stop.

He vividly remembered the first time you went into withdrawal. The torment you had been going through. Just because you hadn’t been writhing or screaming now didn’t mean it was more bearable - no. You had been sedated this time. Tobirama was quite sure the whole procedure was hell for you, nonetheless, and all that kept you together was your unbreakable will to live.

If that ever faltered…

An ice-cold shiver ran down his spine. He closed his eyes. Already his heart pumped painfully against his ribcage, he had expected it. The all too familiar ache, the grief. The guilt.

I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you.

It was all he could do. Though he caustically surmised, so far he had done a less than stellar job.

He returned to the lab as soon as his concentration felt up to the maddening task yet again. Having seen you again quite possibly helped a great deal to spur him on again despite the hour and how daunting it all felt - he just had to produce some kind of breakthrough now. He knew it. He could feel it. This is the way. He didn’t allow himself another break from the delicate weaving process until finally he inspected a vial containing both components now. Using his sensory skills he sent a weak, short-range chakra pulse through it.

The substance was not like the leash, no. If the leash was shining like a beacon, his copy was a torch, at least. It was progress, compared to the last time. He silently wondered if adding the second component had done this. Then came the next test - examining it directly. Again, the result was that his vial seemed inferior: while the chakra swirled in it in a quite complicated pattern, finely woven, he did distinguish the two different components after a little bit. The liquid made it difficult as it stayed ever in motion, but it was as though he was seeing two different colors.

It was a step forward, at least. He’d be testing this soon. Based on that - and the test subject’s blood work - he’d draw new conclusions. Still, there was more time to work on this vial further. The weaving itself was becoming something of a craft - with each moment he’d learn new tricks to it. A taxing one that seemed entirely focused on details, tiniest nudges and using small amounts of chakra at a time, but a craft nonetheless.

Had he not been so pressed for time, he might’ve actually found it interesting. But right now, all he felt was your torment breathing down his neck, wrenching his heart around and stealing his breath.

He wanted this over with.

It was early morning when he finished his work - not that he’d call it that, but he decided there was more merit to testing it out now. Even so, he’d check up on you again first. The world lurched with the use of his hiraishin seal, and a moment later he was in your room.

The first rays of dawn filtered in already, drenching the wooden hospital furniture in red hues once more. Low rustles were coming from your bed. Tobirama stepped over swiftly to find you stirring under the sheet irregularly, your head tilting from side to side. Briefly, he wondered if you were having a nightmare - but your eyes were open.

And recognizing him. “Tobirama,” you breathed, surprised.

“What’s wrong, Y/n?”, he inquired, wasting no time to step closer even, the worry already growing.

“Just … trying to get more comfortable,” you whispered, attempting a weak smile. “Looks like my strength returned a little bit more.”

He frowned slightly. “Don’t force it.” He couldn’t have prevented the sternness from seeping into his voice if he wanted to.

You sighed. “No,” a light shake of your head, “Just help me get on my side. Please?”, you extended your left hand for him to take, which he did with a small sigh. At least that way you wouldn’t try to do it yourself. And while he was extremely adamant, as Hashirama had eloquently put it, about your rest, it still tormented him to see you lacked the strength to turn on your side by yourself. Of course he knew it was common for patients in your condition - but this was you. He placed his right hand around where your hip and the small of your back would be under the blanket after his left had grasped your hand and pulled you towards him very slowly and gently so you tilted onto your side. You groaned a little, but sighed once you had adjusted to your new position.

“Thank you,” you hushed, meekly almost. The lack of strength was just as obvious to you. Tobirama took his seat at your side again and shook his head dismissively.

“Of course.” He still frowned, though. “How are you feeling?”

You closed your eyes and sighed again. “It’s… starting again. I can feel it. I’m feeling dizzy and… weaker.” Your voice shook from a slight tremble. Fear, Tobirama concluded.

He clenched his teeth and breathed through the tight feeling in his chest. “Y/n, we don’t need to stretch the interval as much-,”

“No,” you interjected firmly, eyes snapping open, giving him a sharp look. “We do. You know it. I know it.”

Now was Tobirama’s turn to close his eyes. “I don’t want you to suffer,” he whispered, his baritone voice near breaking again just from uttering these words and yet firm all the same. The tight feeling became worse

“I know,” you replied, haunted. “I know.” Your gaze was sorrowful. Knowing. Tobirama leaned forward to grasp your hand again and enclose it in his, letting his chakra coat your networks in the familiar, warm way. He didn’t know what else to do for your comfort. “Thank you,” you muttered again, forming yet another weak smile.

His head hung low as he simply basked in feeling you like this. The small nudge you were giving his sensitive network made him gasp slightly.

The moment was interrupted by the door swinging open. Tobirama’s head shot up to find his brother standing in the doorway. Looking more rested than he himself did, most likely. When he had reapplied his face paint after washing himself, there definitely had been dark rings under his eyes.

“Good morning,” Hashirama announced warmly, rounding the bed to stand beside Tobirama when he realised you were on your right side. “How are you?”

As you explained your condition to him, Tobirama gently grazed over your chakra network once more before drawing back slowly to free your hand. He’d be on his way soon, anyway.

Hashirama nodded. “Very well. I singled out a few medications that should help us stabilize you, as I mentioned. It’d be best to take them while you’re still, ah, responsive.”

“You mean when I’m not spitting it back at you?”, you deadpanned. Tobirama near froze at the image. All he could think of was how his hand had forced your mouth open, then poured the torture drug in and forcefully constricted your airway to make you swallow it.

Hashirama cleared his throat. “Well, you haven’t managed that so far.” Tobirama snorted in quite a cynical way then, earning him an arched eyebrow from you. Hashirama shot each of you a meaningful glance before continuing slowly. “Still..., it might be necessary to draw additional seals to release the medications transdermally.”

Tobirama’s head whipped to the side to stare at his brother. “That will aggravate the overload.”

Hashirama held up his hands defensively already. “The seals I have in mind for this purpose only add very, very little of the user’s chakra to the patient.” Tobirama wasn’t quite convinced yet as his scowl indicated. But then forcing things down your throat wasn’t gentle, either.

“And we’re also going to modify your nutrition, accommodating for the duress you find yourself in,” he added softly, but no less serious.

That made you snort now, but in a disgusted way. “Oh, I know what that’s going to taste like.” Every shinobi in the field on long missions knew that, in fact.

Tobirama wasn’t having any of it though. Already, he became riled up. “Y/n, we're not going to discuss-”

“I know, I know,” you already deflected exasperatedly, waving your free hand to calm him down. He leaned back in his chair then and crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow.

“Alright. Now that that’s out of the way,” Hashirama sighed, stepping closer to you. “May I?”, he extended his hand to take yours.

That was Tobirama’s clue. He wasn’t of any use here right now. He leaned closer to you yet again, expression mellowing. “I’ll be back soon, Y/n,” he promised for the lack of a better phrase. Anything else - anything mundane like ‘take care’ - just seemed wrong at this point. You nodded, trying another brave smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. Tobirama hoped his did.

He left the hospital to head straight for the interrogation and information headquarters, then, after having picked up his latest experiment with him.

It was already bustling with activity despite the early hour. Perhaps another mission finished. He didn’t dwell on it, really. Instead he headed to where he knew to find Ikuro; nodding towards the few familiar faces he made out. Apparently news about his task had made the round since nobody stopped him on his was through the small corridors past various offices. For a group that was euphemistically described as ‘interrogators’, everything seemed awfully quiet here. The walls must be thick.

Ikuro indeed was behind the desk in the sparsely decorated office that adjourned the cell block holding the six prisoners. He greeted Tobirama with the oddly warm smile and a nod. “Back again,” his voice was quiet, deceptively soft.

“Back again.” Tobirama repeated, raising an eyebrow. Exchanging pleasantries was something he really had no time for - given his - your - predicament. Any waste of time felt like a crime at this point. And then again, he never liked chitchat much. “Any news?”

Ikuro shook his head. “Not regarding your problem, I’m afraid, given we know Zenji is the only one to interrogate about that. I take it you made progress, however.”

That was unsurprising. Despite all that happened, it had only been a day. A single day. “Something to test out, yes.”

Ikuro’s smile spread slightly. Tobirama wasn’t sure how to feel about that, but quickly decided he didn’t care enough to form an opinion just yet. “There is one question though,” his smile faded. Tobirama frowned. “Now that we know Zenji is the only one who knows how to make the leash, do you want to use it on him again? I know we did the last time, however, if we permanently injure him…” He trailed off, but Tobirama well caught the implication.

He crossed his arms then. A fair point that he hadn’t considered yet. Since there were six prisoners in total, he had more than enough test subjects to choose from. But picking Zenji had the additional possible merit of gleaning more information about the leash during the interrogation, at the cost of, well, risking him. It all boiled down to whether Tobirama was confident enough in his work to not harm a person permanently, or not.

He hated it. But, “The substance I brought with me today will be more aggressive than the one I used last time. So, no. Let’s pick someone else. If it works well, we’ll focus on him again.” He was set on giving that man hell until he gave up his secrets. Or Tobirama had figured it out himself. Either way.

Ikuro nodded then. “Alright. We’ll pay a visit to Kimi.” The smile was back again.

Tobirama instead scowled, his tone was dripping with sarcasm. “Why do I get the fleeting notion that is the loony one from the far end?”

Ikuro bellowed a sudden laugh that startled him, both eyebrows rising. He wouldn’t figure this man’s humour out, really. “You are as perceptive as they say, Tobirama.” Then he rose to full size and Tobirama followed with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. The walk down the cell block was accompanied by the well-known feeling of eyes on him. Not that Tobirama cared for those, either. Except for one pair.

Zenji’s. His scarlet eyes darted to the side when they passed the middle cell. Tobirama was satisfied to find his black-bruised jaw was swollen. The look the man gave him was nothing short of hateful. He never broke his stride and followed Ikuro, surprised Zenji didn’t holler anything after him. Perhaps the jaw just hurt too much, hm.

Finally they reached Kimi’s cell. Like all the others, she also was chained up and sealed away. Her gaze seemed empty, staring a hole into the ceiling. That would soon change, Tobirama knew. Ikuro unlocked the cell. “Kimi,” he greeted warmly, like she was a friend.

“Go fuck yourself,” she shot back instantly but perfectly nonchalant. Tobirama’s eyebrows shot up. So much for friends. Her blue eyes locked with Tobirama’s. “Oh,” suddenly, her tone was infused with a shrill kind of adoration. “A high visitor!” Tobirama had to refuse the urge to cover his ears. “Tell me, tell me,” she chanted, swinging back and forth in the chains that held her. “How’s Y/n, how is she? Mhm?”, she exposed surprisingly bright teeth in a grotesque smile.

Tobirama didn’t even find her worth talking to; he could only roll his eyes and sigh exasperatedly. Enemies like this he knew to take serious - erratic behaviour covered up some of the most impressive techniques. But this wasn’t a fight. And he wasn’t about to try and converse with the likes of her. Not even in a cynical banter. He gazed at Ikuro. “Shall we?”

Kimi moaned loudly. “Awh, come on!”, it was an obscenely wanton sound. “Gimme a shred, please, please, please? I’m missing Y/n so, so much!”

Tobirama started to wonder if he had to break another jaw here. The ire that started to burn in his veins again surely provided enough fuel. His head tilted forward slightly as his stare narrowed, darkening.

Ikuro was already next to Kimi, shaking his head. He must’ve guessed at Tobirama’s thoughts - not that his body language wasn't enough of a giveaway.

Kimi wasn’t helping her situation. “Tobirama Senju doesn’t find me worth talking tooo!”, she screamed then in a most offended way, loud enough for probably everyone in this building to hear. Not that she was wrong in any way. This woman would be better off without her vocal chords.

“Kimi,” Ikuro began, still sugary sweet. “You’re going to help us a little.” His hand seized the back of her head already, grasping her brown hair firmly.

She stiffened immediately, but the smile that spread over her lips now was nothing short of malicious. Typical, Tobirama figured - completely mad behaviour, but far from idiotic. “Oh.” It was a sharp sound. “My turn to get your itty-bitty-wannabe-leash?”

Tobirama’s mien remained completely impassive. “Are you going to open your mouth or are we going to have to force you, like your compatriot?”, entirely unfazed by threatening her with violence.

Not that she was fazed, either. And smart enough to know better than to put up a fight now. “I always wanted to taste the stuff, mhm,” she tried to nod her head, but Ikuro’s grip was iron already. “No need to break my jaw like dumb Zenji’s. Show me what y’got, Tobirama Senju, show me,” she then moaned again, lasciviously almost.

Tobirama’s lips drew into a disgusted scowl. “Good grief, how do you work with these people,” he scoffed. Ikuro was grinning widely. “I should’ve picked Zenji,” he added almost inaudibly. Kimi opened her mouth wide and stuck her tongue out, licking over her lower lip in distasteful ways. Still, he didn’t trust her for one second. And the contents of this vial were too precious for this maniac to spit back at him, which he was sure she would. His free hand seized her jaw tightly so that if she bit down, she’d seriously injure her cheeks. Kimi already spluttered. The moment Tobirama felt she wanted to speak more, he simply applied more pressure. He had enough of this nutcase.

Swiftly, he poured the contents of his vial into her mouth and in a well practiced move pressed down harshly on her nose and mouth to force her to swallow. Her eyes became glassy - luckily, he had been wise enough to keep her mouth shut, because he was perfectly sure she’d have licked his hand or done something equally disgusting had he not.

Not that much was needed. Obediently, she swallowed.

Followed by a shrill scream. Tobirama’s patience was a candle that burned on both ends at this point. He didn’t even put it past Kimi that this was precisely what she was aiming for but by all that he believed in, it worked. The woman let out a heavy tirade of sexually loaded metaphors about what she was seeing and feeling that might have turned a more innocent person bright red on the spot.

It elicited nothing but fast growing annoyance out of Tobirama, however. And Ikuro was grinning as he closed his eyes. He gave him a dark glare. The man had known, for sure. This better yielded good results. When he reached for her throat to examine her, his hand grasped so tightly Kimi’s voice got stuck in its tracks and all that remained was a small rivulet of obscenities at Ikuro, who had begun to invade her mind again. Squeaks, no more.

Much more bearable.

Now to examine her. He made no effort to be gentle about this whatsoever. Ikuro’s work was marvellous as before. Unsurprisingly, Kimi’s mental defense was nothing short of impressive. Perhaps Tobirama was imagining it, but Ikuro’s methods seemed different here - more brutal. More smothering. Akin to what he had done to Akio - less thought to the risk he was running. Was Ikuro himself fed up with her? The thought darkly amused Tobirama.

Kimi stayed completely stable throughout the whole procedure. Her chakra flow was almost as muted as yours was after indigestion of the leash, however it picked up again during the session. Tobirama had expected it, but with the additional experience in the whole weaving process, it gave him clues on how to improve on that. Briefly he stopped monitoring her to take a blood sample. Not an easy task as there was no patch of skin exposed save for her neck and head, so he had to go for the jugular artery as the veins would be collapsed. It bore a slight risk - but none that Tobirama even cared about. Unceremoniously he stabbed the needle in where he felt the pulse after having released his choke hold on her throat - an opportunity she used to gargle out profanities at both him and Ikuro, but the mental assault heavily impaired her ability to form coherent sentences. What was coherent by her standards anyway, Tobirama figured. After he had gotten what he needed from her neck, he continued to monitor her. The half-frozen state of her chakra remained steady for a while before it dropped more.

Ikuro began to retreat then, slowly.

“Wait,” Tobirama instructed. His presence lingered then, still keeping Kimi in a mental choking hold.

As her chakra became less and less mute, the disruption kicked in more. And with it, for the first time there seemed to be genuine distress in the prisoner, indicated not by crude insults, but a genuine groan of pain.

“Interesting,” Tobirama muttered, smugly, almost. Kimi whimpered while Tobirama took time to thoroughly investigate how her chakra tried to repel his disruption, over and over again - and each time, the reaction became worse for it, accompanied by a never ending stream of pained expressions. Watching the agony unfolding inside of her.

He felt no satisfaction, no. But he was pleased. A success, finally.

After a while of monitoring, he took another blood example. Ikuro was frowning now. “I’m not sure how much more she’ll take, mentally,” he announced.

“Well, physically, she’s well off. I won't say anything about her mental state, that has been debatable to begin with," Tobirama grunted. This was nothing compared to what you went through. The plight they ultimately had put you in.

Ikuro withdrew then, but Tobirama had to stay. After all, the disruption first had to fade at some point. He knew it would - this wasn’t the leash, yet . But it was the right way. Slowly, Kimi’s body started to clear out the disruptive components alongside her chakra - another fascinating realisation that was different to when he had examined you. In you, the leash stuck - no matter how much your unmuted chakra and body battled it, it just kept on disruption and repelling it, thus causing the detrimental health effects. But Kimi’s cleared Tobirama’s out.

He withdrew then. Ikuro raised an expectant eyebrow. “She will be fine,” Tobirama announced, turning on his heels to leave the cell. He had new material to work with.

Ikuro followed swiftly after locking the cell containing the now limp Kimi.

The glare Zenji gave Tobirama now was decidedly murderous. Tobirama grinned back, darkly. Arrogantly. Zenji might as well know he was on their heels. His threats have not been empty. He almost had passed the cell, when Zenji’s strained voice echoed through the cell block: “Four more days, Tobirama fucking Senju,” the pain was obvious. Good. Nobody had healed the fracture, then. “Don’t think for a second you’re anywhere near perfection yet! Y/n’s gonna die so fucking miserably!”

Tobirama kept on walking, ignoring the new flare of ire in his veins. The urge to turn on his heels and break his jaw in new ways. Hell, rearrange his damned face. No, Zenji was beneath him he kept telling himself as he ground his teeth so hard his own jaws hurt. Back in the office, Ikuro closed the door. “I’m impressed, Tobirama.” His gaze was appreciative. For a split second, he believed this to be about reigning his temper in and was about to reply in a most impolite way to such a condescending remark, but he quickly realised this was not the case.

“Thanks.” Try as he might, he couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice. The praise for his work was hollow when he reminded himself why he was doing this - and that it was far from perfect yet. “I’ll be back soon. I trust you didn’t learn anything pertaining to my task?”, not that he thought so, but he had to ask anyway.

“Sadly, no. It was a fruitful session, especially considering it was Kimi, but it seems Zenji’s slip up was not a false lead. She really does not seem to know about the leash’s creation.” Then, he frowned. “But, she adamantly guarded anything relating to the leash. Perhaps there is more to glean from her.

Tobirama’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Well, then we know to build up more pressure.”

Ikuro nodded, surprisingly somber now. “Indeed. I’ll inform you if anything from the other prisoners might come up.”

Tobirama bowed slightly. “Thank you.” Ikuro was a good man to work with.

A second later, the world lurched and the hiraishin seal transported him back to your room, where the little victory he celebrated dissipated swiftly.

The mood was dreary - and the innate hum he felt due to his sensory skills had picked up from the last time. It could only mean one thing. By now it was high noon and the sun’s light reflected off of the room’s pale furniture. Hashirama’s back was turned to him but the blanket was pushed aside - revealing your marred legs. On them, more seals, which he couldn’t make out precisely at this distance. Instantly, Tobirama rounded your bed swiftly, to find Hashirama working on the heart seal. Still, he couldn’t help but gasp when he saw your whole form revealed like this: a shadow of your former self and almost no part of you that didn’t bear a barely healing mark of torture. It didn’t deter him from analysing the situation, but it’d never fail to drive a proverbial blade through his heart.

Your breaths were quick and shallow again and Tobirama was sure to hear a rumble in there. Not good. Your lung was affected. Combined with the fact your body definitely was paler than before and the sheen of sweat that covered your skin, the situation was obvious. You didn’t move - and in your face, the grimace of pain was etched into your skin.

It was worse than before. And they hadn’t stretched the interval as much as before, yet.

Hashirama’s gaze swept up to him when he had finished what Tobirama guessed was strengthening the seal that supported your heart. His mien was grave. “We can’t wait much longer.” He gave Tobirama a quick rundown of what had happened: the withdrawal had kicked in again as before, but the symptoms developed faster, and more severe. As he had guessed, your lung was starting to suffer damage not just on the slight, microscopic level Tobirama had witnessed during the first stretch but in a greater margin. Your cardiovascular system required more support as your heart struggled, too. He still hadn’t intervened directly, yet.

Tobirama swallowed finally and nodded and nodded. Then, he looked down on your legs. Each bore another seal meant for transdermal release of the agents the seal in the middle was soaked in. “You drew more seals?” he inquired, terse again.

“We had to,” Hashirama explained, his hand back on your arm and his eyes closed. “Her lucid intervals are too short to ensure her taking the medication by herself. This is more effective and safer.”

“Safer?”, Tobirama shot back, sternly. “There are six seals on her now. Which means we barely have any room for additional chakra based options, if any, without overloading her.”

Hashirama clicked his tongue. “I am well aware, Tobirama,” a slight hint of strain had snuck into his voice now. But instead of angering him, it did the opposite - Tobirama realised how serious your condition was for his brother to even let a sliver of exasperation slip into his tone. And besides. He didn’t say any more.

All they were doing here - it was all dangerous. Too dangerous. They were running into dead ends, either way - be it the leash or the withdrawal of it. And to make you suffer, for a few precious hours? Tobirama swallowed hard against the shortness of breath that gripped this thorax tightly suddenly. “Anjia, I don’t think we should continue. Y/n is suffering and I -,” he swallowed again as his scarlet gaze swept to your face and the hurt in his heart was near unbearable again, “I cannot condone this.”

Hashirama’s eyes flew open and he gave Tobirama a deep frown. “She doesn’t want us to stop. So don’t.”

His gaze wandered to his brother, frowning himself now. “If she dies from the withdrawal, then it was pointless,” he nearly growled, voice stern again, if just to cover up for the gaping hole that the ache was boring into his chest in a most agonizing way.

“She’s not dying. Have more faith in me, Tobirama - and most importantly, her,” he gazed back at you then, voice becoming softer, fonder. Tobirama would never fail to be amazed by his brother’s optimism.

In a very sarcastic way.

“I’m not doubting you or her, anija,” and the sheer notion of him doing so did well enough to distract him from the terrible heartache simply for how furious it made him, “What I am doubting is what we’re up against - effects of something I haven’t fully understood yet or been able to recreate!”

Hashirama took a sharp breath. “On the other hand, we can evaluate her condition, react accordingly and adjust the figurative sails. We will not run a risk. You said so yourself. That, we do know.”

Tobirama looked back on your tormented form. Then he closed his eyes slowly. He hated it - he hated all of this - but he knew, deep down, he knew it - they’d need to continue down the path they had chosen. All of this - it would end soon. Either way. All he could do was to ensure it ended favourably, swiftly. And for as long as it lasted he’d need to remind himself of the promise he had made to you. No matter what. If Hashirama found your condition stable enough to continue - he’d trust him. He had no other choice but to.

“How much longer until the next dose?”, Tobirama asked then, the numb feeling spreading again. He welcomed it. The numbness muted all of the grief, of the ache. His focus returned.

“Not much. Might as well prepare it.” Hashirama instructed, politely refraining from commenting on Tobirama’s falter further.

He nodded and made for doing just that. Not twenty minutes later, they administered it - again, you were stirring from the force with which Tobirama had to pry your mouth open to pour the hated liquid in. The pained way in which you groaned echoed quietly in the sparsely furnitured room as he focused on not spilling a drop while gripping your jaw with vice strength again and holding it open. Uttering apologies he knew you couldn’t hear but he made nonetheless. After he made you swallow it you stilled again.

It had whatever brief respite - if it could’ve been called that - they had gained by stretching the intervals and thus making for more time null. Impressively, it had been shown you paid the price in proverbial blood and if it continued, literal blood might follow.

Tobirama’s only rest would be when he literally crashed, now.

#tobirama #tobirama senju #tobirama x reader #tobirama senju x reader #sekhmet writes

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yuta-nakamots · 4 years ago

Text

Candle Light - l.hc ; Part 1 of 2

Pairing - College!Haechan x Ghost!Reader

Genre - Angst in the beginning, but it’s just fluff from there

Warnings - Character death, supernatural activity (you are literally a ghost)

Summary - As the resident ghost that haunts your old apartment, you take pride in scaring away those who dare move in, not wanting them to ruin your memories. Though your mission changes after a group of boys arrive. These are the four boys you allow into your space and your heart. One of them is the candle that supports you, and you are the fire that burns atop it, his beacon of light.

Word Count - 5.7k

A/N - this series is inspired from a discontinued series that @soleilhyuck originally wrote on her old blog. let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list :)

Tag List - @sunflowerhae @eunsangelical @soleilhyuck @neoyoungho @carefreebubble

You are a ghost, to put things simply. The past three years of your undead life have been spent wandering through your apartment complex, though you mostly stayed to your unit and scared away those who chose to move in, as it is your precious space. It reminds you of your family, the people who had moved away shortly after your accident because they couldn’t stand constantly walking past the place where you took your last breath.

Three years ago, you were in your second year of college and making your way back home from your on-campus job late at night when you were hit by a car as you crossed the street. You had your phone out to finally respond to the messages that were built up and read all the emails waiting in your inbox, you didn’t even see the car speeding down the road. Apparently, it was a classic drunk driving case as the light above you was red, telling them to stop, but they were too inhibited to recognize the traffic signal.

You remember the feeling of getting hit and blacking out, but when you came to, you were a few feet away from the crowd of people in front of the car. When you pushed yourself off the ground and made your way over to them to see what they were making such a big deal about, that’s when you saw it. Your lifeless body was sprawled out on the road, bruised and bloodied from hitting the hard pavement and the impact of the car.

Within the crowd were a few of your coworkers who probably left a little while after you and were making their way back home or to their dorms as well. One of them was your childhood friend who lived a few floors below you. You ran to him and said his name, trying to get his attention, but he didn’t answer. You tried again, eventually yelling and reaching out to shake him by his shoulders but you watched as your hands passed right through his frame.

You were in denial at your current state and you stayed frozen in place as he whipped out his phone and called your mom. It felt as if everything was going all too fast around you, like the Earth was rotating faster than you could keep up with. You saw your parents and little sister running across the street, all of them in their pajamas.

You watched as your mother knelt down and held your head to her chest as she wept, her tears sinking into the fabric of the shirt you were wearing.

You watched as your father spoke to the paramedics when they arrived, telling them that he had just gotten to the scene and he was alerted by your friend who stood behind your mom, looking over you as he shook his head in disbelief.

You watched as your sister, only fifteen years old, struggled to grasp the situation at hand. She had never lived a single second of her life without you. Regardless of all the fights and arguments the two of you got into, at the end of the day, you were her older sister, the person she looked up to most, the best role model she could’ve ever asked for. She stood at the edge of the crowd, too shocked to even move.

You watched as the paramedic team loaded your body onto the stretcher and into the ambulance where they tried to take your vitals, all their efforts in vain. They pronounced you dead on site, silence washing over the group of people who had been witnesses and those who knew you and stayed to offer support.

You don’t know what came over you, but you found yourself walking the path back to your apartment as if nothing had happened. Walking through the lobby, you made your way to the elevator and hit the button out of habit and waited for the familiar rattling as the elevator made its way down. The doors opened and it was empty, as usual for it being this late at night, but you didn’t mind.

When you got off at your floor and trudged through the hallway to your apartment, you reached around to get your keys out of your backpack, and tried to insert it into the doorknob, watching as your hand and key went straight through the door itself and reality came crashing down on you again.

You could only sigh as you shut your eyes willed yourself to take a daring step straight through the door that would’ve definitely stopped you in your tracks hours ago, yet when you opened your eyes, you were met with the familiar sight of the unit you spent almost your entire life in. You were numb by now, you felt tired and drained, You threw your bag on the ground of the room, not even noticing it as it simply disappeared while you flung yourself onto your bed and allowed your eyes to close while you drifted into a state of unconsciousness.

It had been three years since that fateful night, your family moving out not even a month later. You tried your damn hardest to get their attention as they packed the tan boxes, crying out that you were still here, you were still alive. But none of it ever seemed to work, they continued their movements without a single glance at you.

Ever since then, you had remained alone in your apartment, playing with those who chose to move in. Most didn’t last more than a few months, losing their mind to your antics as you closed and opened doors, slammed windows, flipped light switches, and even moved their belongings around the unit. Simple things like these were enough to make tenants terminate their contracts and move out of your home.

Part of you felt the slightest bit of guilt for doing this, but it was your space. Besides, it wasn’t as if you were hurting them. You wouldn’t call yourself a bad ghost, per say, as you were quite peaceful, never going as far as to physically harm anyone. Though you didn’t know how much longer you could stand aimlessly roaming around before you truly lost your mind and went mad.

July 2019

In the sweltering summer heat, which you fortunately could no longer feel, you were broken out of your drifting trance as you heard the front door to your apartment open. You watched from the sofa as four handsome boys walked in, lugging suitcases and boxes behind them. You peeked around the wall separating the main room from the kitchen as you heard them arguing with each other and talking about their classes.

From their conversations, you gathered that they were going to be second year students at your university. They were your age, though you were theoretically older than them, but whenever you were able to manifest the silhouette of your human body, you look just the same as you did back then, three years ago.

You were also able to learn their names as they shouted at each other, trying to figure out whose boxes were whose.

“Jeno, put that one down in the main room.” One of the boys yelled, the black haired one looked up as he found the room in question and yelled back in acknowledgement as he carried one box in his right arm while guiding a bike with the other. He seemed to be the most well built out of all of them, the black tank top he was wearing doing nothing to hide his strong arms from view.

“Hey, Jaemin, go open some windows.” Jeno commanded as he set down the box with a thump and you watched as the grey haired boy split off from the rest of them and went to open the windows next to the door that slid open to the balcony.

“Guys, come look at this view.” Jaemin exclaimed, Jeno and the brown haired boy joining him as he looked through the glass and admired the view of the city.

“Can someone please help me with this.” Said an anxious voice from the front door and you turned along with the rest of the boys, the fourth and smallest of the group as he struggled to make his way through the suitcases left haphazardly in the hallway while carrying an easel that was just as tall as him, if not taller.

“Yeah, sure thing, Renjun.” The tan skinned boy with dark chocolate colored hair walked over and laid down in his tracks, causing the shorter boy to curse in frustration and the other two to let out laughs from across the room.

“Haechan, I will literally step on you if you don’t move.” The aforementioned boy had immediately caught your eye. He was like the physical embodiment of summer itself.

You sat back down on the couch and watched as Jaemin and Renjun claimed your parents' old room since it was the largest and could fit both of them plus Renjun’s easel and other art supplies. Jeno took your younger sister’s room, finding barely space to store his bike alongside one of the walls before venturing into the shared bathroom between his and Haechan’s room. The latter boy took your room, the smallest one with a window offering the same view the balcony did, not minding the cramped environment as he didn’t bring much with him in the first place.

A feeling of annoyance built up in you when Haechan opened the window and stuck his head out the same way you used to do ever since you were younger. You couldn’t deny the fact that he was attractive, heck, all of them were, but that wasn’t enough to quell your irritation at how these boys were in your home.

As Haechan pulled away from the window, you were about to slam it shut right in front of him and begin your plan to get rid of them. But before you could move, Jeno burst into the room, telling Haechan to “come look at the refrigerator this place has, it’s got a screen and everything” with much excitement.

You left your bedroom, following Haechan out as he paused to take another look out from the glass panelling that separated the main room from the balcony, one of your most sacred places as it was where you often enjoyed doing your homework due to the cooling breeze that would occasionally blow by, ruffling your hair as it passed.

August 2019

Halfway through the month, the boys had all started their classes and you were able to learn their majors and educational plans. Renjun was an art major that was just getting his core classes out of the way before transferring to a school with a specialized art program. Jeno majored in biology with hopes to become a physical therapist or veterinarian, he was having a hard time choosing, believe me. Jaemin was a business major and you felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner with all the smooth talking he does and his way of persuading the others to do his share of chores for him. Haechan, the boy that bothered you most out of all of them, was undecided. This didn’t surprise you either as he was always on his computer playing video games, not showing much interest in anything else.

You found it entertaining to listen in on their conversations as they talked about their school activities like when Renjun joined the astrology club or when Jeno had joined the humane society club. Though Jaemin didn’t join any clubs, he had joined many other outside volunteer organizations. He especially loved talking about volunteering at the local orphanage and care homes for the elderly. He even got a job at the new cafe that apparently opened up recently just a block away from the apartment complex. Haechan, unlike the rest of them, didn’t do anything outside of school. He’d come home, do some of his homework, and immediately go to his computer to play Overwatch regardless if he was truly done with his work or not.

By this time, you had already started messing with them by fooling around with their doors and windows. None of them were truly phased though, passing it off as just the wind or the weight of the windows themselves being heavy enough to close on their own. The only one who seemed to have any suspicion of your existence was Renjun

September 2019

Around this month, the boys’ school semester was in full swing and you could truly see what type of students they were. Renjun and Jeno were both very organized and self-disciplined, wanting to finish their work before they allowed themselves to relax. Haechan and Jaemin were the opposite of that, wanting to relax first and recharge their mind before doing any school work. Jaemin always made sure to finish his work though, even pulling a few all-nighters unlike Haechan.

Even though you’ve continued to mess around with them, they were seemingly unbothered by your antics, only blaming themselves when you started misplacing their objects like when you moved Haechan’s keys from the kitchen island to the coffee table in the living room or when you moved Jeno’s notebook from his desk to the bathroom counter. It was quite funny though, when Jaemin came across the notebook after using the toilet, yelling out into the hallway “hey Jeno! Were you reading your biology notes while taking a dump or something? You forgot your notebook in here.”

Jeno came in muttering as Jaemin finished washing his hands, “I could’ve sworn I left it on my desk when I finished taking notes” his voice trailing off at the end as he reached up and scratched the back of his head while taking the notebook from the counter and making his way back to his room.

Again, it was only Renjun who seemed to have any amount of brain cells that were alert of your presence. One evening, you were watching him paint in his shared room and you had accidentally knocked down the cup that was holding his paintbrushes, wincing as it crashed down onto the floor from his desk. “Ah!” He had exclaimed as he whipped around from the canvas, taking in the sight of his brushes scattered on the floor and his cup rolling beneath his chair. He turned around again, peering around his easel, checking to see if the window was shut, “I swear this place must be haunted” was what he said when he realized that the window was indeed securely shut.

October 2019

As fall started to settle in, the leaves changing color and the air growing colder, you were given less opportunities to play around with windows and doors, forcing you to come up with more ideas to get them out. Your next momentous idea came to you on Halloween night as you were spread out on the seemingly unoccupied armchair, watching the horror movie the boys had put on. All four of them were crammed onto the couch because it had the best view of the TV and none of them wanted to sit on the floor or in another chair where they’d have to turn their neck to look at the screen.

You weren’t really a fan of horror movies but it’s not like you could complain. Besides, they were younger than all of the previous tenants and seemed to be active users of Netflix, allowing you to see all the new things that had been added to the streaming service. You found it funny when you noticed that they all had their own profiles on Jaemin’s account seeing as how he was the only one actually making enough money to pay for it.

It was about half an hour into the movie when the first jump scare happened. You laughed as Jeno practically threw the bowl of popcorn that was peacefully resting in his lap into the air, most of the popcorn landing on Haechan who was sitting next to him. “Wait, guys, did you hear that?” Renjun asked as he looked in your direction, pupils searching for the source of your laugh while you sat frozen in shock.

“It was probably just the neighbors.” Haechan said nonchalantly as he picked pieces of popcorn off his head and shoved them into his mouth.

Renjun shook his head, “no, I swear it sounded like it was in this room.”

“Dude, if you’re that scared of the movie then you don’t have to watch it.” Jeno said, earning a giggle from Jaemin.

“I’m not scared, I just thought I heard something.” Renjun mumbled as he slowly turned his attention back to the movie.

Only a few people could hear you and even fewer could actually see you. You were used to being totally invisible to the wide majority of tenants who moved in, not many of them believing in ghosts until you began your pranks and scared them into realizing that ghosts do indeed exist. The fact that Renjun had heard you was enough to let you know that he was a believer already and you planned on using this to your advantage soon, and by soon you meant within the next hour or so.

Right after the boys witnessed a gruesome death in the movie, you had turned off the TV, pressing the power button on the back of the monitor to match the timing of the characters’ unconscious body dropping to the floor. They initially thought it was part of the movie, that it was a cut to a new scene, but they soon realized this was not the case as the TV screen stays black.

Renjun’s eyes went wide as he frantically searched for the TV remote on the couch and coffee table in front of them, his breath getting stuck in his throat as he saw it sitting atop a stack of magazines, certain that he would’ve noticed if anyone had moved to grab it. “This TV doesn’t have an auto-timer feature does it?” He asked, his voice quivering in fear.

“I-I don’t think so.” Jeno admitted, clearly also quite shaken up.

Jaemin glanced around the room before remarking, “the power is still on though so I don’t know why it would have shut off.”

“This is what I mean when I say this place is haunted,” Renjun burst out, abruptly standing up and letting the blanket they were all sharing fall to the floor, “I’m going to bed before anything else bad can happen.” You smiled at his innocence thinking he could just sleep away your presence. As he passed you on his way to his room, you whispered his name and held back a snicker as he jumped, his head whipping back and forth to find you. “Who’s there?” The other three boys just laughed at him, enjoying the show they thought he was putting on. “Guys, I’m being serious.”

“None of us said anything.” Haechan remarked, obviously thinking that his friend was going insane.

In Renjun’s panic, you had moved to get out of his supposed path to his bedroom, but you weren’t ready when he suddenly made his way back to the boys on the couch, threatening to punch them. He walked straight through your form and froze as the cold air hit his skin, causing the hair on his arms to rise.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Jaemin teased.

“Did you guys really not feel that gust of air?” Renjun asked, eyes blown wide in disbelief.

Jeno shook his head, “nope,” he stated, popping the ‘p’, “I think you should really get to bed though, you stayed up kinda late last night so maybe you’re just imagining things.”

Renjun stomped his foot angrily before turning on his heel and storming off towards his room, “fine, but don’t come crying to me when this ghost starts messing with you guys too.”

Sure enough, that’s exactly what you did. Later that night, when they were all asleep, you had come up with your own way to mess with each of them, mentally high fiving yourself as you made your way to Haechan’s room, which was actually your room.

You proceeded to open the single window, along with all the doors, even the sliding one for the closet. You took it upon yourself to empty the contents of his pencil case, placing them in the shape of a sun in the middle of the floor, remembering how he called himself ‘full sun’ though admittedly it resembled something more of a summoning circle so you quickly scrapped the idea, opting to simply just scatter them randomly.

Happy with your work, you passed through the shared bathroom, which was surprisingly neat for two boys, your gaze landing on Jeno who was letting out light snores as you entered his room. He was the neatest out of all of them, his desk always cleaned up before going to bed, his outfit for the next day already planned out and resting on his chair. You knew how much he valued his cleanliness and organization, so those were the things you were going to ruin.

You opened all of his desk drawers, taking a few things out and placing them around the room, even into different drawers that they didn’t belong in. You then took apart his stack of books, opening them to random pages and placing them on top of each other in any which way, making your own precarious leaning tower. The finishing touch was when you turned his clothes inside out and laid them on the back of his chair. You looked over at his sleeping body, snoring even louder than before, smiling to yourself as you moved to the last room.

Jaemin didn’t have much on his side of the room for you to play around with but you noticed his hand was hanging off the bed so you decided to try out one of the pranks that you’d learned about from your friends back in high school where if you placed someone’s hand in warm water while sleeping, it would make them pee in their sleep.

You made your way into the kitchen and willed your power to manifest your semi-solid human body, needing it to grab a cup from the drying rack and turn on the sink to fill it with water. As you popped it into the microwave and pressed the buttons to heat it up for 2 minutes, cringing at the obnoxious sound of the beeping, remembering the horrid couple that brought it in with them.

While waiting for the microwave to finish it’s job, you leaned against the counter, eyeing the mountain of dishes in the sink in disgust, wondering just when will these boys actually clean up. They were relatively neat for a bunch of boys but that doesn’t mean they were in an acceptable range of overall cleanliness, barely of them making any use of the washing machine in the hallway. You stopped the microwave just before it went off, and grabbed the warm cup out before making sure to reset the timer and close the door.

You turned around, trying your best to balance the cup and not spill any until you looked up and saw a wide-eyed Renjun standing in the doorway. “W-who are you?”

You dropped the plastic cup out of shock, the warm water spilling all over the floor, not that you could feel it or care about it. “No one” you responded quickly, before forcing your body to revert back to it’s normal invisible state.

“Wait no, come back. You’re the ghost from earlier aren’t you?” Renjun pleaded as you moved slowly to stand behind him, making sure not to cause any gusts of air. “What’s your name, if you don’t mind me asking, and why are you here?” He questioned, staring at the place you were previously.

“Get out.”

You watch the hairs on his neck rise as he froze in place and began stuttering “P-p-please don’t hurt me, I just want to help you.”

“If you want to help me then get out” you jeered.

“Don’t you wonder why you’re still here? I can’t just leave you to endlessly haunt this place,” Renjun said, trying to reason with you. You sighed realizing that he was one of those types of believers, and he wouldn’t be leaving as easily as you thought. You left the kitchen, the breeze following you signaling to Renjun that you were moving, “isn’t there any way I can help you?”

You didn’t respond, only heading through the living room to the balcony where you turned around and sat down in a lawn chair one of the boys had set outside, your gaze settling back on Renjun’s in the hallway. You heard him sigh as he walked into the kitchen and then some shuffling around as he was probably cleaning up the water you spilled before he headed back to his room.

November 2019

As the weather grew colder and their workloads grew heavier, you often found the boys exploring new ways to warm themselves up. Jeno took to impromptu workout sessions even when he was fully clothed in a hoodie and sweatpants. Renjun opted to simply drink warm drinks while the funnies of them all was Jaemin who preferred to wrap himself in blankets, keeping himself in his cocoon as he moved throughout the apartment, even when he went to use the bathroom and when he cooked. You didn’t mind those things, the only coping mechanism that really bothered you was the scented candles that Haechan would use.

He’d often go to bed, forgetting to put out the candle and you’d watch as the hot wax melted down, some of it dripping onto the desk it was on, your desk to be specific. You swatted at the flame, effectively extinguishing it as you slammed the window shut, rousing Haechan from his sleep. Seeing as how nothing was out of the ordinary, he fell back asleep within a few seconds making you scoff at his ignorance at possibly burning the whole place down.

This became a regular occurrence as Haechan’s assignments grew in their numbers and intensity, forcing him to stay up later and work through the cold of the nights. You were glad he was making an effort to keep up with his schooling, but not when those obnoxious candles were left ablaze every single night as he drifted off into dreamland.

December 2019

Renjun had finished his midterms the earliest out of all of the boys, meaning that he got to stay in while all the others still went back to campus. You enjoyed being in his room while he painted, liking the ambiance it gave off. You often found yourself drifting in and watching him as his brush ran across the canvas.

Though one day, as you sat on Jaemin’s bed on the other side of the room, he suddenly spoke out. “I know you’re there.” He didn’t stop his motions, only dipping his brush back into the orange paint he was using before returning his attention back to the sunset inspired painting he was creating. “You know so much about me, yet I know nothing about you. Don’t you think that’s a little unfair?” He stated as he turned to grab another brush, dipping it into the royal blue resting on his palette. “If you were going to hurt us, you would’ve done something by now. We’ve been here for nearly five months at this point and you only seem to pull harmless pranks on us.”

You materialized behind him before speaking. “Is it too much to want my own home for myself?” He jumped a little, much to your amusement.

“I’m sorry?” he said, not seeming to understand what you were getting at.

“This is my home, I want you to leave, let me live in peace.”

“I don’t think you understand” he began, “you’re not even alive. Your spirit may be but you have no physical embodiment to live here.”

You bring a hand up to his cheek, his brush stopping in its tracks, “I’m more alive than you think, Renjun.”

“I don’t even know your name, so how am I supposed to believe--”

“Who are you even talking to?” Both of you whip around, not remembering having heard Haechan come through the front door, too immersed in your own conversation.

Renjun suddenly notices your floating blue lit figure next to him, “her! I was talking to her” he exclaims.

“Who?” Haechan asks, clearly confused.

“Don’t you see her?”

“No, Renjun, I do not see her or anyone else in the room for the matter. I think those paints must be toxic for you.” He remarked, walking out of the room.

“Haechan, no, wait-- come back” Renjun pleaded as he scrambled to force Haechan to see what he was seeing, which you knew was impossible since Haechan was a non-believer.

In Renjun’s haste, he kicked one of the legs of his easel, tipping it over. Before it could hit the floor, you grabbed it, causing it looking as if it were hovering in the air. But to Renjun, who could very much see you, it made him that much more certain that you were real and it made him that much more persistent to figure out why you were here.

Barely even a day has passed since then when you learn that Renjun is able to see you even when you weren’t in your misty human form. He could see you as you floated throughout the rooms and wandered through the hallways. You only realized this after watching his eyes follow you as you made your way from the kitchen to the living room, passing in front of the TV that he was currently watching.

“You can see me?” you asked, not believing that he actually could.

He seemed just as surprised as you, his mouth open in surprise. “I-I think so?” A few seconds went by as you both tried to process what was going on. “Why can I see you and hear you but the others can't?” He asked.

“They don’t believe in ghosts, or at least not as much as you do.” You explained, shrugging your shoulders apprehensively.

Renjun leaned back into the couch, his face showing just how shocked he was, the realization of being able to communicate with a ghost only now hitting him. “Can you at least tell me why you’re still here?”

You scoff before responding to him, “I told you, this is my home and I want you and your friends out.”

“I’m sorry, but we’re just a group of broke college students. We don’t have anywhere else to go. I promise that we’ll move out at the end of the school year.” You rolled your eyes at him as you move to sit out on the balcony, ready to figure out a new way to force them out before then.

Two weeks later on new year’s eve, being the ‘broke college students’ they were, the boys had settled down in the living room with the TV on as they watched the ball drop while eating instant ramen and drinking from the two cheap bottles of bourbon they had bought earlier in the week.

Growing up, you had always thought it was fun to play with sparklers and watch the fireworks from the balcony of your unit. But now days you found it stupid, knowing that humans believed it would drive away bad sprits, yet little did they know that it really didn’t do much except irritate them. You would know from your own personal experience.

You and Renjun had gotten used to his ability to see you, this newfound ability causing you to hang around him a little more, though the others were convinced he was going insane. They were just about ready to hand him over to the mental ward for schizophrenia when he turned to you asking “are you okay with all the fireworks going off?” referring to the channel they had the TV set on.

“Yeah, it’s fine. They’re annoying at most but I don’t care.”

Haechan dropped his set of chopsticks, his eyes and mouth agape as he stared at Renjun. “What was that?” he questioned, clearly in shock.

“Oh, you can hear y/n?” Renjun questioned, not at all phased as he finished chewing on the noodles in his mouth.

“Who is ‘y/n?’” Haechan asked, bewildered.

“She’s the ghost that lives here, the one I was telling you guys about since like, Halloween?” He said, looking over at you for confirmation, to which you nodded.

“Yeah, Halloween.” You acknowledged, Haechan’s eyes landing on you as he began to see your faint silhouette sitting next to Renjun.

Jaemin, with an eyebrow raised in concern, is the first to break the sudden silence that fell across the room. “Okay Renjun, we’re taking you to see a psychologist tomorrow.”

“No guys, y/n is real, I swear,” Renjun protested, “Haechan can hear her and I can see her too. Look, y/n hold this.” He said, handing you a napkin. It rested on your hand before floating through you and landing on the floor.

You watched as Jeno’s eyes grew wider and his eyebrows raised as he became the slightest bit skeptical of your existence whilst Jaemin was still unamused, convinced that it was just a trick of the wind. Before they could say anything else, voices could be heard from the TV as the crowd started to count down from 30, effectively distracting the boys from their previous discussion.

You noticed that one of them didn’t return his attention to the TV, however. Haechan’s gaze was still fixed on you as your glowing misty blue figure became clearer and clearer to him.

A/N - this series is inspired from a discontinued series that @hyuckgasm originally wrote on her old blog. let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for Candle Light :)

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