#the originator of this curse whoever you are i hate you

[mercelot]

I want to read long fic but apparently someone got obsessed with a series, made a popular crossover, and now I'm in a ship tag and all I can find is 'here's 20 of my OCs that will dominate the narrative for the next forever and also there's clearly going to be more' over and over and over again I'm dying scoob.

[take-it-on-the-run]

Not A Lot, Just Forever

Dean Winchester x Pregnant!Reader

After throwing up morning after morning, the reader discovers her illness isn't what she initially thought.

Word Count: 4.1k

Tags: Pregnancy, unexpected pregnancy, brief description of motel bathrooms, vomiting (repeated), self-blame, mention of reader's mother dying in childbirth, mention of childbirth related deaths, anxiety, brief loss of consciousness, Dean is a sweetheart and will make a great father.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Pregnant!Reader, Sam Winchester, Castiel

@ghostlyaccurate requested: "Hii! I'm not sure if I already sent you this request, or if I sent it to someone else (oops🤭) but could I request a Sam Winchester and/or Dean Winchester x reader (your choice which one of them, if not both sepperately) where he helps reader deal with morning sickness, though he only finds out she's pregnant on the third day in a row that he's with her while she throws up. Ty!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Adrianne Lenker title. I really really loved this request! I feel like writing the pregnancy trope is a sort of hard task to do, so I hope I brought it justice. I love love loved writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for the request @ghostlyaccurate, and I promise I'm trying my damnedest to work through my inbox <3. Every mistake here is completely and 100% my own and of my own doing. (P.S. can you guess how hard it was to find "aesthetic" pictures of a bathroom and pregnancy tests for the pictures for this fic?? I think the ones I found actually work pretty well! Another thing, what happened to the yellow text color? I use it to tag fluff fics, and it's gone :( ).

Dean Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Your head hung over the foul toilet bowl of whatever motel you, Dean, and Sam were holed up in, and a rancid smell invaded your nose. In earnest, you didn’t have the slightest idea where you were. The past couple of hours had been filled with a slight fever and the constant need to use Dean as a pillow. Halfway through the drive between towns, you convinced him to switch out driving with Sam so he could join you in the back seat.

The worn tile of the bathroom floor offered you minimal comfort, and the fact you’re supposed to be up for a case in two hours made your stomach churn over again. Ditching your normal avoidance of motel bathrooms, you gripped the edge of the toilet and emptied your stomach again.

“Y/N?” Dean’s groggy voice called out from behind the door, “Are you okay in there sweetheart?”

You squeezed your eyes together, cursing yourself for being loud enough to wake him up. Sneaking out from his arms was a feat enough already, trying to suppress the sound of you losing your guts at four in the morning wasn’t going to happen; even in a perfect world.

“No,” you groaned as he softly opened the door, “I feel like shit De, and you know how much I hate throwing up. And how much I hate motel bathrooms.” You whined. Your hair was falling to the front of your face and you were cursing whoever decided a bathroom didn’t need a working air vent.

Dean hummed softly, pulling the hair back from your face and holding it with one hand as he sat behind you on the floor. He pressed his lips to the back of your head softly, and gently traced shapes on your collarbone as you laid back on him.

“Just breathe, I’ve got you if you need to go at it again.” He said softly, cradling you in his lap as you tried to breathe. He ran his hand through your hair as your breathing started to hiccup less, and eventually, he sat you on the closed toilet lid to get you water.

You felt ashamed to be keeping him up at this hour. Your phone clock read 5:13 AM, almost an hour past when you’d originally gotten up. He already doesn’t get enough sleep as is, and here you are sitting, waiting for him to get back like you aren’t able to take care of yourself.

“Here you go, drink slowly. Did you use the mouthwash I gave you?” He asked as he handed you his water bottle. He stood across from you, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. You nodded softly, gratefully gulping down the contents of the bottle.

The bags under his eyes were already enough to make you feel guilty. Hunters were used to running on minimal sleep, but with you around, he’d just gotten into the six-hour range. He rubbed his face, inhaling like he normally did when he was trying to make a decision. You didn’t want to go out for the case. You barely wanted to move your body to get back in bed and salvage what little sleep you could before life kicked you back into gear.

“Do you want to stay here while Sam and I talk to the family?” Dean asked as if he could read your mind.

I love you so damn much. You thought, bowing your head with a sigh of relief. You didn’t want to be the one to bring up staying in; neither of you ever wanted to admit you needed breaks, but if the other one was to bring it up, it made the process easier.

You nodded, pushing yourself to your feet as he opened the door for the two of you, “yeah, I think that’s best for all of us. Don’t need me puking in the victim’s bathroom as you guys ask your questions.” You tried to joke as you and Dean crawled back into bed, tucking yourself into his arms, and splaying your legs haphazardly on top of his.

The next morning wasn’t any better.

Sam and Dean had come home late from questioning the family, and you were barely aware of them unloading the Chinese food they brought for you. Dean sat with you against his chest, still half-dressed as an FBI agent, as you wolfed down the egg rolls he got. You found yourself starving when they offered you food, but now you regretted eating anything at all.

You found yourself hung over the toilet again, but thankfully only had to put up with one round of saying goodbye to your lunch. You were able to get yourself up and over to the sink, where you repeated Dean’s routine from the morning before.

You leaned against the counter in the small kitchen, Dean’s water bottle filled with tap water in your hand. You turned to dump the rest in the sink when the creak of a floorboard behind you had you spinning on your heel in record time.

“Jesus Christ, Dean. Why are you up?” You asked in a hushed tone, placing your hand over your racing chest.

“I could ask you the same thing,” He crossed the small room and came over to embrace you in his arms, “did you get sick again?” He asked innocently, but the combination of those words, and the pitiful shift of his eyes was enough to make you feel like a child. You were a grown woman, you knew damn well how to take care of yourself much before the Winchesters were in your life.

You huffed in annoyance, pulling back from Dean’s chest. You felt your face begin to heat up, and it felt like anything Dean could say had the chance to send you over the edge.

“Yes, I did. Right now, I feel like my body is too hot and too tight for my bones, and I also feel like anything you say is going to make me hit the roof. Even if it’s nice, I just don’t think my brain can take in any more words without wanting to jump ship.” You said you rubbed your temples. Things like this had happened occasionally in the past, and before Dean, you figured it was just because you were a rigid person. One night a particularly bad migraine had led to you yelling at him because he offered to get you some medicine. Instead of just leaving you to stew, like every other partner did, he simply asked you to explain what you were feeling. No judgment, no interruptions, and he’d do whatever you said would make you feel better in that moment.

Now, whenever you felt overwhelmed, he did the same. He’d swallow any sarcastic comment or solution to your problem and listen to you. No matter what was bothering you, at whatever hour of the day, he was at your side, doing what you asked of him without hesitation.

He just nodded, pressing his lips to your forehead before he led you back to the bed you two were sharing for the case. His body threw off heat like a bonfire, and your normally freezing hands were appreciative of that. In this moment, however, it felt like you were burning from the inside out.

You adjusted yourself between the sheet and the comforter, so the two of you could still touch without pressing your skin together. Dean waited for you to still before he made himself comfy, and he gently ran his fingers through the ends of your hair.

“Is this okay right now? Do you want me to leave you be?” He asked, in as soft of a voice as he could. You hummed, smiling at the tingling sensation running through you. Comfort, and a warmth that wasn’t burning to the touch, crawled up your back, and into your head. You tried to focus your eyes for a couple of seconds more, but without your control, they forcefully fluttered shut.

“Y/N.”

Sheet tangled between your limbs, and you could see the light through your closed eyes. Opening them, you find an unexpected sight. Instead of Dean, or Sam, standing at your bedside, the trench coat-clad angel you’d met five years ago stood awkwardly, waiting for you to fully wake up.

“Cas,” you rubbed your eyes as you sat up, “what are you doing here? Where’s Sam and Dean?” You asked.

Cas sighed and sat at the end of your bed. He shot you a quick look, before focusing his eyes on the blank wall in front of him. He tapped his fingers on his legs, a habit he picked up from Sam.

“Dean called me and told me you were sick. I came in, and told him I’d try and cure whatever… ailment is afflicting you.”

You smiled at the way he spoke, and the fact Dean went out of his way to try and help you out, but there was something off about Castiel’s demeanor. You sat up and touched his arm to get his attention.

“Cas, what’s wrong? Did something happen that I should know about?” You asked softly.

“I think you’re pregnant, Y/N.” He looked at you, and there was a rift of guilt lingering in his eyes.

A course of confusion and shock coursed through your body before you felt a rotting pit settle at the bottom of your stomach.

“Why would you… think that, Cas?” You felt a tightness taking over your throat, rubbing your hand across your neck to try and loosen it.

“I can sense life forms. Human ones, at least. It was hard to tell with Sam and Dean here, but once they left I was able to confirm my suspicions.”

Your hand traveled to your lower abdomen before your mouth spat out a request without thinking.

“Pregnancy tests. Can you get me some, please? I just,” you ran your hand across your forehead quickly, “I want to confirm, using non-magical means.”

Cas nodded, “of course. I’m going to assume you don’t want me to let Dean know?”

You nodded your head before swinging your legs over the side of the bed. Deep down, you knew Cas was right. You were late by a few days, but you’d chalked it up to the illness that’s kept you on the bench for this case. You didn’t usually react as poorly as you’ve been to an illness, even when you’d gotten a terrible case of Pneumonia.

Getting up from the bed, you walked into the bathroom as Castiel vanished to get you a couple tests. Looking to the mirror, you’re met with a form of you that was a little scary; purple, slightly-puffy eyes, smeared makeup that hadn’t been washed off from days before, and your skin was breaking out in places it hadn’t before.

Dean hadn’t said a word about it, but even someone as blissfully ignorant as him had to have noticed the way your face wasn’t looking like your own.

Dean.

You’d have to tell Dean you were pregnant, with his child. That you’re going to be parents.

What if he didn’t want to be a father at thirty-six?

Children weren’t one hundred percent out of the question, but they were longer down the line in hunters’ lives. If you were lucky enough to get out of the life unscathed and find someone who would want to settle down with, you’d likely be creeping into your mid-forties, at best. Mary had gotten lucky with John, but now they’d both been taken away by the thing they’d spent half of their marriage avoiding.

What if you weren’t ready to be a mother at thirty-five?

For you, it wasn’t the question of wanting to have kids, but you never saw you or your boyfriend backing out from hunting anytime soon. To add on, you’d heard of many nasty births that ended in fatality for the infant or the mother, including your own. Every time you and the boys were on a case involving a child, you’d be extra reckless. Dean picked this up within the first couple of times you’d almost gotten yourself killed to save a kid, and you explained your fear to him. The fear of a mother not being able to welcome her child home in her arms, or the child not seeing his mother again, and their fate lying in your hands. You’d already ripped apart your family, and you tried your damnedest to keep as many together as possible.

A ruffle of feathers and a sharp knock on the bathroom door snapped you out of your thoughts.

“You can come in, Cas.”

Wordlessly, the angel stepped into the small motel bathroom holding a plastic bag. He pulled out three different pregnancy tests and set them on the counter.

“The woman working there said I should get a couple just in case one doesn’t work like it should.” He said as you picked up the first test. “I’m telling the truth, but I understand you wanting to confirm this to yourself.”

I know Cas, you thought, but you didn’t say a word. Instead, you stared at him, waiting for him to leave the bathroom, but he had a blank look on his face and didn’t move a muscle.

“Cas, I’m going to need you to leave the bathroom for me to do this.”

“Oh, sorry. Of course. I forgot how ‘hands-on’ human tests can be. I apologize.” He said blatantly before stepping out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him.

Fuck me.

That’s what got you into this in the first place, dumb ass.

After twenty disgustingly long minutes in the decrepit motel bathroom, you walked out holding four positive tests. Cas was sitting on Sam’s bed, staring out the window, but immediately stood up and crossed the room to you. You handed him the tests, and he placed them on the table between the two beds.

“How do you feel?” He asked. Another thing he picked up from his years on earth was the ability to know when to ask what questions.

You felt blank. Void of answers and solutions to the situation at hand. Whether or not to turn left, or right.

“I… don’t know what to do, Cas.” Your voice broke along with the tears you were holding back, and a sinking feeling of hopelessness began to dig its way through your head.

Neither you nor Dean are ready to be parents. What if Dean’s angry? He would never kick you out of the bunker. The bunker is the only real home any of you have had in a long time, but is it safe? Is the world safe enough to bring a baby into? A Winchester baby, who would no doubt be a target from birth. What if the baby doesn’t make it to full term? What if this baby kills you like you killed your own mother?

“Y/N,” Cas placed his hand on your shoulder, “I’m going to ask you to take a breath.” He drew his hand up and waited for you to inhale. Taking in a shuddered breath, you followed the flow of his hand, stopping your heart from running up your throat.

“Thank you.” You said, sitting down on your bed and grabbing the pregnancy tests off the nightstand. Two pluses, two double lines. You and Dean were careful and used a condom whenever you found extra time together, but somehow God decided that rubber wasn’t going to work as intended.

“I think I’m going to just lay here,” you tuck yourself under the bed sheets once more, the tests shoved into your pajama pants, “and wait for Dean and Sam to get home. I’ll get him out of this stuffy ass room and tell him in private. Sam shouldn’t have to witness if we- if we argue. I know it makes him feel awful.”

“That’s a smart plan. You need to take this one step at a time and do it carefully. I know Dean cares for you deeply, but if you need someone to support you, all you have to do is call for me.” Cas squeezed your shoulder reassuringly.

“Thank you, Cas.” You yawned, pulling your body further under the covers of the bed. Castiel smiled slightly, before turning away and disappearing with a familiar rush of wings flapping.

Your body was covered head to toe in sweat, and the bed sheet you wrapped around yourself was thrown onto the floor. No light entered the room, and the time on the alarm clock read 1:43. Your stomach churned in a familiar way, and as you got to your feet you finally noticed neither of the boys were in the room.

You clambered to the bathroom, phone in hand, trying to call Dean. One hand braced on the toilet, and the other tried to thumb down to his contact. There wasn’t any time to think about the fact you were carrying a baby inside of you, the baby whose father is missing in the middle of the night with no calls or messages.

They always call. You thought before you set your ringing phone on the floor to throw up for the first time that morning. The phone rang, the sound slowly driving you insane each time you redialed Dean’s number between dry heaving into the bowl.

Your hair was sticking to your forehead, poorly swept away and held back by a rubber band you found on the sink. The heat, the pain, and the fear of losing contact with the Winchester brothers combined with the reality of you being pregnant was finally built up enough to break the swarm of emotions you barely choked down when Cas was in the room earlier.

Eyes burning, you slumped against the sink cabinet and brought your phone to your ear as you called Dean once again. You let out a sob, tears rushing down your face and neck, leaving behind a slightly burning trail. Your breathing became uneven, the sound of your own heart drumming through your ears drowning out the ring of your phone. Letting your phone slip to the floor, you brought your knees to your chest and folded your arms as a nest for your forehead.

Neither of the boys called within the twenty minutes you were in the bathroom, your phone was now close to being dead, and no muscle in your body wanted to obey your brain telling them to move and do something. You weren’t a weak woman, you took the cards you were dealt and tried your best to win, but sometimes all you could do was fold.

“Y/N? Y/N?”

A hand pulled your face from your knees, and you could barely see with the light of the bathroom now on and blinding you. A warm hand rested against your cheek while another briefly touched your forehead.

“Help me get her up, Sammy,” your eyes fluttered closed and you felt two arms hook under both your arms, laying them over shoulders as your feet lightly dragged across the floor.

“I’ve never seen her this bad, Dean.” The voice you now recognized as Sam said. Your legs were swept up from under you and you were laid on the bed you’d crawled out of.

You felt the tests still pressing in your pockets, and you thanked whatever greater being was willing to listen. There was no way you wanted to Dean to discover that information on accident.

Dean.

The other voice was Dean.

You moron, who else would it be?

The bed next to you dipped down, and you felt a gentle hand tuck a few stray hairs behind one of your ears. The sweat covering you was sucking every inch of clothing to your skin, and all you wanted to do was peel either of the pair off.

“I thought Cas was going to come here and help her out,” you heard his voice straining as he spoke, and you felt your heart snap in two.

You moved your hand, as heavy as it felt, and squeezed the first part of him you touched.

“Sweetheart,” you could feel Dean’s breath as he hovered over you, “you’re scaring me here.”

“Cas…” you gave out a heavy cough, “he came. He helped me figure out what’s been happening.”

A glass of water was brought to your mouth, and you took every drop of it. After swallowing the cup, your eyes finally were able to open. You were greeted by a worried Dean hovering very close to you, and a worried Sam crossing back from the kitchen holding Dean’s water bottle.

Sam set the bottle on the bedside table and sat on his bed, facing you and Dean. Dean’s attention was solely on you. His hands grabbed both sides of your face and brought his lips to your forehead, before resting against it.

“Hey,” you said, chuckling slightly, “I didn’t mean to scare you, De. You, or Sam.” You sat yourself up in bed.

“Did Cas tell you what’s wrong?” Sam asked, looking at you expectantly.

“He did, but… is it okay if I talk to Dean? Alone?” You asked softly.

Sam shot Dean a look, which Dean promptly returned with one that had Sam standing up, and walking into the hall.

Orange rays of light shone from the window of the room, and you could just barely see the sun climbing on the horizon. Dean moved to hold you in bed while you gained the composure to tell him you were both parents.

“Dean…” you breathed steadily, trying to even your heartbeat that was ramping up once more, “I have to tell you something-”

“I kinda gathered as much sweetheart,” he said lightly, lines forming around his forest-lorn eyes beautifully.

“- it’s important. I mean, it’s going to change our lives, for the rest of our lives.”

Dean’s face became more serious, pulling you to face him as he crossed his legs.

“You know you can tell me anything, Y/N.”

Do it, now. Just say-

“I’m pregnant.”

The air hung heavy around the pair of you as you handed him the tests in your pocket, and you could see the clocks turn in Dean’s mind as he stared down at them.

“But we used a rubber?” He said, and you could guess where his thoughts were wandering.

“We did, but you’re the only person I’ve been with for years, Dean, I need you to believe me when I say that.” You said reassuringly as you could without sounding like you were lying.

His face broke into a small smile, and he brought his thumb to trace over your lower cheek, “I know, sweetheart. I trust you with my heart, I just know not to use that brand anymore, seems like their effectiveness is questionable.”

You laughed, tears drying in your eyes as you pushed at him playfully, “Dean! You gave me a heart attack, you son of a bitch!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry okay!” He laughed, capturing you in a giant bear hug and rolling you on top of him. You looked down at him and brought your lips down to his.

“You’re going to be a father,” you said, beaming at him while smiling the hardest you’d ever in the longest time

“You’re going to be a mother,” he replied, smiling just as hard. Your face fell slightly, and the word mother finally kicked into your head. “Hey,” Dean said as he saw your face shift, somehow remembering the story you told him all those years ago, “Remember, we’ve got an angel on speed dial, and you know how hard it is to take out a Winchester.”

Your heart warmed at the statement, the baby inside of you was just as much L/N as it was Winchester. You loved Dean with your heart, as did he love you, and now the two of you were going to brace the dangerous world you’d spent years protecting with the amalgamation of that love.

You brought Dean’s hand to your stomach as he brought his other hand to your face. His calloused fingers were gentle on your skin, and small crinkles formed around his eyes as he smiled, holding his hand at your stomach as you gazed back at him.

A knock sounded at the door, making you turn your head around before you and Dean burst into laughter, and told Sam he could come back in the room to tell him the news.

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 17: Hate Sex - Sirius Black x Slytherin!Reader

Summary: You were in Slytherin, it was in your blood to hate Sirius Orion Black, so why can’t you stop thinking about his stupid, handsome face?

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, hate sex, arguing, mocking, teasing, sexual tension, enemies with benefits, alcohol, size difference, praise kink, choking, dom/sub, slight degrading, rough sex, edging,

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

“Fuck my life; why the hell is he in here?” you exclaim as Sirius Black saunters into the library with all the swagger and arrogance of someone ready to cause a riot.

“Here we go”, another student mutters under their breath from across the room. You weren’t sure who, but you glared in the general direction of whoever had said it.

It was infamous that you absolutely loathed Sirius, and he, in return, hated you with just as much passion. You were natural enemies; he was in prideful Gryffindor, and you a cunning Slytherin, but the hatred delved deeper than just this. You thought he was a pompous, arrogant prick who bullied Slytherins - mostly you - and seemed to always get away with it every single time. He had directed his pranks towards you more times than you’d care to count. You were constantly on high alert, paranoid that another attack was coming from the Gryffindors. Seeing any shade of red filled your heart with dread every single day.

Today, you were having a relatively good morning, mostly spent revising in the library with a towering pile of books beside you. It was a warm summer’s day, so most students were outside, which was always your favourite time to study, not having to fight with the others for specific books or for an area of the library to work.

Another reason you preferred to stay in the castle was that the Marauders were likelier to be out, causing havoc where the crowds were formed. You cursed loudly at seeing them in the library, instantly ruining your calm day.

“Well, well, look what dirt turned up in the library. I’m surprised you even know how to read, Sunshine”, Sirius taunts as he immediately struts over to your table, picking up one of the books in your pile and idly flicking through it whilst leaning his weight against the table.

You sigh heavily through your nose at the nickname, loathing it more than any other pet name that he decided to call you, mainly as it originated from a prank in your first year where he’d stained your hair bright luminous yellow and thus, Sunshine was his favourite taunt. “Please fuck off, I’m only going to warn you the once Black, and give me the book back!”

“Why would I leave? These books all seem highly intelligent for your silly little mind. Maybe I should help read to you, see here, this is what they call the ‘title’, it means what the book is called-”

“Sirius, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t shut the fuck up-”

“What’s going on here?” the librarian rushes over, interrupting your seething threat with her stern face, glancing between you and Sirius, who was grinning, ready to woo the teacher.

“Oh, nothing at all, Professor. I was just asking if I could borrow this book when she started to shout at me”, Sirius explained with surprisingly good acting skills that had your eyes widening and mouth gaping open with anger.

Before you could even begin to justify Sirius’ lies, the librarian turned to you, her lips pursed and eyes sharp. “Please leave the library. I won’t have you causing a commotion like this”.

She leaves before you can stand up for yourself, your cheeks flooding with heat as your blood boils with anger. Especially as your enemy begins to laugh tauntingly, head tipping back as he obnoxiously laughs, throwing the book back onto your pile.

“Thank god for that; I might be able to concentrate without a slithering snake like you here”.

You stand abruptly, wand in your shaking hand as you rage angrily, “I fucking hate you!”

He steps closer, invading your personal space as he smirks down at you, “The feeling is mutual, Sunshine. Now, do you want me to help you pack up your crap, or can you manage that all by yourself?”

Before you can answer, you’re both interrupted by a calm voice, “Sirius, leave her alone, will you?” Remus tried to convince his friend to step away. With Sirius distracted, you start roughly shoving your items into your school bag before turning back to them both, especially Sirius.

“I hope you choke”. With one last glare, you purposefully bashed your shoulder into Sirius, knocking his balance slightly as you stormed off.

However, as you passed a couple of Hufflepuffs, you overheard one whispering to another, “They probably just need to fuck, and they’d get over this stupid tension”.

“What the fuck did you just say?!” you demand, stopping in front of them, looking between them as their heads dropped to hide their faces. “That’s disgusting. How dare you even say something like that-��� you begin to chastise, your wand returning to your hand as a reflex to defend yourself.

“Excuse me!” the Librarian returns to your side, which only makes you more frustrated as you’re stopped from doing what you really want.

“I’M LEAVING!” you scream, gathering the attention of everyone; you promptly scowl at them all, specifically Sirius, who you expected to see grinning at you getting into trouble, but instead, he was only a step behind you with an odd, wondering expression on his face.

You don’t stay to ponder what he was looking at as you grip your bag closer to your body and storm off. How could someone even think something so disgusting!? You and Sirius fucking?! Absolutely not. You’d rather walk around Hogwarts naked than go anywhere near Sirius fucking Black.

A few hours later, you’d found your friend lounging beside the lake, where you promptly joined her with a huff. “Oh no, what did Sirius do now?” she says, knowing your sour mood could only be caused by one person.

You explain with increasing agitation, “And then, you’ll never guess what some Hufflepuffs said! They said that me and Sirius Black,” You shiver for emphasis, “Need to shag, and we’d stop arguing! I mean, can you believe it? That’s disgusting; I can’t think of anything worse!” You’d expected your friend to look disgusted, just like how you felt, but instead, she raised one eyebrow with an unphased expression. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Well, I mean… He’s not that bad to look at, and from what I’ve heard, he’s very much a people-pleaser in the bedroom. Anyway, you know what they say,  if you’re being teased by someone it’s most likely because they have a crush on them and I must say… You’re both always teasing each other”.

Even though your friend grins and mocks you, you still find it offensive that she would even say such a thing. “Are you kissing me? Sirius Black is a self-centred, arrogant asshole who only thinks about himself. There is no way I would ever go anywhere near him!”

“Yeah, but you can’t deny that he’s handsome. Even though he’s a Gryffindor, he's from the Black lineage, with his long hair, dreamy eyes, and stunning smile. There’s also the fact that he plays quidditch, so I bet those thighs of his are scrummy”.

Shaking your head at her words, you sigh, “That doesn't matter, he’s still-”

“So you admit it?” She cuts you off with a knowing smile.

“Admit what?” you question innocently.

“That you think he’s handsome”, she states confidently with a shit-eating grin.

“I’m not saying that, I mean- Uh… I don’t know!” You throw your hands into the air, exacerbated, “I guess he’s handsome, but that doesn’t change what an asshole he is”.

Your friend shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe this answers all the tension. The two of you need to fuck, and maybe all the arguments will stop”.

“If you ever say that again, I promise I’ll curse you. Right, I’m changing the subject. I don’t want to think about him anymore. Are you still going to the party later in the Ravenclaw's common room?”

“Definitely! I can’t wait. Are you going?”

“Yes! I need a drink after today”.

As the moon came out to play, so did all of the older students throughout Hogwarts, as it seemed everyone was going to the party. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you sighed in frustration as you couldn’t style your hair correctly, too distracted thinking about that good-for-nothing, long-haired, handsome idiot.

There was that word again. Handsome. ‘Was he handsome?’ you thought to yourself. Of course, he was, with his grey sparkling eyes, he was one of the tallest in the year, lean from all of his quidditch playing, and his hair was always clean and effortlessly styled, and his clothes were always smart and expensive looking, the only part of him that you could tell was from his pure-blood status.

You hated that you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Undoubtedly, you hated him, but would it be the worst to shag him? You shivered at the thought, internally demanding that the idea needed to leave your mind immediately, ignoring the pulsing between your legs as an image flashed into your head of his face between your legs.

You shouted in frustration, giving up with your hair and deciding that it would have to do. At least your dress was beautiful, a Slytherin-green floor-length gown with silky smooth material accentuating your body and a long slit up the right side revealing your thigh. It was lavish and probably over the top for a common room party, but it was so rare that you could dress up, so you seized the opportunity. You’d applied a generous amount of make-up and silver high heels to match the dress, adding a couple of inches to your height.

The problematic part was sneaking up to the Ravenclaw common room, but thankfully, there was a system of students on the watch to lead the way there. Once inside, you poured yourself a drink of whatever was in the cauldron and found a couple of your friends already there.

Ten glorious minutes of happiness passed before it all came crashing down around you as James Potter shouted, “The party has arrived!” Not only him but the other Gryffindors had entered, making you roll your eyes and drink a hefty glug of the alcohol in your cup, savouring the burn as it rushed down your throat.

You couldn’t see him immediately, and you hate that you searched the crowd looking for him; you pretended that it was because you wanted to be prepared if he walked over to you and no other reasons whatsoever. There he was, standing with his back to you as he poured his drink with Remus.

‘Fuck’, you cursed to yourself, quickly looking away as your cheeks warmed. Why did he have to look so good? It seemed his surname was his favourite colour today as he wore all-black, well-worn combat boots paired with baggy black jeans and a tight t-shirt that seemed to stretch over the well-toned muscles of his arms and shoulders. It wasn’t just this that had your thighs clenching together to try and relieve some building tension. Still, for once, he’d decided to tie his hair up in a loose bun, some strays of hair already loosening, but for some reason, that only made him more attractive, and did he always have an earring?

You finished the rest of your drink as you realised just how much attention you gave Sirius. You need to get him out of your head, so dancing with your friends would be the best distraction for now, but you fully anticipated that he would come over and ruin your night sometime soon.

However, Sirius stayed on the other side of the party, which even your friends commented was odd, considering he always loved making your life miserable. You continued to shrug it off, saying you were having a great time because of it; however, your eyes wandered over to him occasionally, and it seemed he always had the same idea as you would catch each other's eye and then quickly look away embarrassed.

The night continued, the music increasing in volume, and now that you weren’t worried about Sirius interrupting, you slowed down with the alcohol, not wanting a hangover in the morning.

“SOMEONE SNITCHED TO FILCH, HE’S GETTING THE PROFESSORS! EVERYONE RUN!” A second later, the entire party was shoving and pushing each other to get out of the door, running in different directions.

Some teachers were already in the corridors, catching students, giving them detentions and taking away house points. You followed a small crowd, struggling to keep up with your heels, which you now severely regretted; however, it was a small blessing when Professor McGonagall caught the group at the end of the corridor, so you quickly turned down a deserted corridor, breathing heavily and beginning to sweat from the exercise and fear.

Just as you turned down a corridor dimly lit by fires on the wall, someone from behind grabbed your arm, forcefully pulling you in another direction. Before you can comprehend what is happening, you’re engulfed in darkness, and a broad hand is shoved over your mouth as you’re pushed against the door to the store cupboard you were just pulled into.

“Shhh, someone was behind us, " Sirius whispered from the darkness; even though you couldn’t see him, you knew his face was in front of yours because you could feel the warmth of his breath on your face.

Your instinct was to try and shove him off, but then there were echoing footsteps in the corridor outside. You both freeze, not even daring to breathe in case you’re caught. Both of you listened intently until there was only silence on the other side of the door as you slammed your elbow into his stomach.

His hand drops from your mouth, allowing you to whisper, “Get the fuck off me, don’t ever touch me again”.

Now that you had a moment to calm down, as he moved back into a space, you could see a slither of him from the gap around the door that allowed the light to seep in. Sirius chuckles lowly, rubbing his stomach from where you’d elbowed him. The deep laugh seemed to affect you straight between the legs as, for some reason, you found the noise mildly erotic.

“Why? You never know; you might like it when I touch you”, Sirius taunted, his voice soft and yet husky at the same time.

Your entire body seemed to buzz with anticipation and excitement at his words because there was no way Sirius Black had just flirted with you in some capacity.

“Shut up”, you say bashfully, folding your arms over your middle.

In the crack of light seeping in, Sirius' head tilted to the side, “What, no comeback, oh my witty little snake, have you lost your tongue?”

It seemed you had no air left in your body at his words, but you forced yourself to move away from the door, turning with the intention of leaving. However, he hears something you don’t as he’s pushing you flush against the door; even with your heels, he’s towering over you.

Before you could question what he was doing, he rested his index finger across your lips and whispered into your ear, “There’s someone outside the door”.

You can’t hear that, though, as there’s only the pounding of your heart rattling in your ears with how close he is to you. He was inhumanly warm, and this close, you could smell his addicting aftershave that reminded you of citrus and oak, but lingering in the background was vanilla from his shampoo as a couple of strands of his hair fell into your face. In this position, you couldn’t see him; even as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you had to rely on your other senses. 

You swallow audibly, causing your lips to press harder against his finger until the cool metal of his ring is indented into your chin. His breath is just as warm as his chest against yours, and this close, you could smell that he’d been drinking fire whiskey.

The pressure on your lips lightens as whoever is inspecting the corridor disappears again. Sirius doesn’t remove himself, though; instead, he allows his finger to do its exploration in the darkness, skimming across your cheek, over the shell of your ear, which causes you to shiver and your nipples to harden beneath the dress however the fabric was so thin that Sirius could feel them against his chest.

His finger continues to move down your jaw until it is at the point of your chin, pushing it up so you're forced to tip your head back further against the door.

“Sirius”, you whisper in a pleading tone, and he moves, fast and brutal as his mouth connects with yours. The kiss was fiery, full of passion and need. The hand under your chin desperately moves into your hair to hold your head in place while the other grips your hip, pulling your body closer to his. Your hands were just as grabby as one reached for his shirt, feeling the hard muscle beneath, and another moved to his jaw, feeling the softness of his recently shaved face.

You both moved as one, tilting your heads to the side to deepen the kiss further, mouths opening to allow the exploration of your tongues, tasting and wanting more. You weren’t thinking clearly, and neither was he but damn with the consequences.

Sirius bit into your bottom lip gently, tugging it back until it was snapping back to normal, but he didn’t stop there as his mouth began to move down your throat as he moved your head back. Open mouth, hot kisses were pushed into your skin until your toes curled in your high-heeled shoes.

You needed more of him, all of him, feeling so pathetically desperate that sweet little whines kept spilling from your lips as he sucked just below your ear like he knew that was your special spot.

Reaching behind his head, you roughly pulled the hairband out of his hair so, at long last, you could run your fingers through his soft locks. Sirius seemed to enjoy the touch as his hips thrust into yours, and you could feel the evidence of his arousal, rock hard in his jeans. Your arousal was currently ruining your underwear, clit throbbing and pussy begging to be touched in some way.

This could be a sign to stop and reason that this was your enemy. It had been since day one at Hogwarts, and now you’re ready to rip each other's clothes off.

As Sirius’ mouth moved lower, teeth scraping over your collar bones, you decided to be brave and lift your right leg, wrapping it around his hip to hold him closer. Sirius instantly gripped your thigh, groaning to himself when he was met with bare skin as he’d forgotten this was the side with the slit in the material.

“This god-damns dress”, he praised against your skin, which made you laugh lightly at how desperate he sounded. The heat of his palm against your naked thigh only made you want to feel him closer as he kissed you again. Higher and higher, his hand creepy, gripping your thigh until he pushed the silky material further up your body until you could feel your underwear was on show. This only encouraged you to pull his hips closer with your heel until his jean-covered cock was pressing against your panty-covered cunt.

Sirius shuddered, his hands tightening on your thigh and in your hair, as his tongue devoured your mouth, capturing every little moan you released as his hips thrust forward. It was your turn to tremble as the roughness of his jeans was felt through your thin underwear, nudging your clit and causing more moisture to gather in your underwear.

Everywhere felt like it was burning: your skin, core, and head. Everywhere that Sirius touched left a scolding mark as you couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t fathom waiting a moment longer.

Pulling your face away from his, with a harsh pull on his hair to snap his head back, you roughly demanded, “Just fuck me already, Sirius”.

He grinned in the darkness as he rutted his hips harder against yours, knowing what you truly wanted. Sirius’ mouth returned to your through as he darkly said, “Say please”.

It was an effort not to roll your eyes, but you did huff as you, in turn, pressed your pussy against his crotch. “I’m not saying-”

Any sassy remark you were thinking of saying was cut off by the giant hand now wrapped around your throat, not hard enough that you couldn’t breathe but enough to draw your attention as his mouth hovered over yours. You could feel from the shape of his lips that he was smirking as he repeated with more emphasis and slowing of the words, “Say. Please”.

Your mouth dried of any saliva at the tone of his voice, instantly falling into submission as you quietly asked, “Please fuck me, Sirius”.

“Good girl”, he praises against your lips, making your knees buckle slightly, having never been praised like this before.

A hand wrapped around your ankle as he moved it back to the floor, and suddenly, you were holding onto the door as his body dropped to his knees, and you didn’t realise until now just how much you were relying on his body to keep you upright.

Sirius’ hands were underneath your dress, grasping the edges of your underwear and sliding them down your thighs. As you stepped out of them, he moved your dress back again, your bare pussy on display to him, and even though it was too dark for him to see, you could still feel the warmth of the flush on your face.

“We haven’t got time for that, just fuck me already”, you snapped at him. Of course, you would love for your earlier thought of his face between your legs to be a reality, but right now, you needed his cock inside you before you combusted on the spot.

Thankfully, Sirius didn’t argue or get you to beg for his cock any more as he stood back up, towering over you again as the rustle of his belt being undone was like music to your ears. “Always so fucking demanding”, he scolded light-heartedly under his breath.

Reaching for his waist in the darkness, you were planning on helping him undo his jeans to free his cock, and you wanted to feel what you were dealing with. Like every other time you’d known him, Sirius had other plans.

Your hands were pushed away as he grabbed your hips instead, but only so that he could turn you around. Your face was unglamourlessly shoved against the wooden door as Sirius rushed to gather the material of your dress until it was bunched around your waist. Clinging onto what he had planned, you pushed your arse out from him and were greeted with the pleasant sensation of something hot and hard against your cheeks.

“Spit”, Sirius demanded into your ear as he pressed his fingers into your chin. It felt filthy and slightly degrading to spit into his hand, but as you could hear him wiping the slickness onto his cock, you didn’t care anymore. In fact, it only added more eroticism to your thoughts.

Neither of you said a word as he adjusted the height of his hips, pressing into your arse cheeks to spread them slightly as suddenly something knocked against your hole. Sirius helped to guide his cock as he slid it into your pussy, your walls burning from the stretch of the sheer size of him. 

“Fuck! You could have warned me you’re so big!” you chastised him. Inch after inch opened you up wider until his hips were flush with yours, and his hand rested back in your hair, pulling your head back against his shoulder.

“Sorry, Sunshine”, he chuckled, kissing your cheek with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. You couldn’t help but hear that stupid nickname in his sultry deep voice, and with his entire dick pressed into your cunt, you couldn’t help but squeeze him tighter. Sirius ground his hips in harder, smiling against your face, “I fucking knew you liked it when I called you that”.

You wanted to retort back to him, hating when he had the upper hand, but as he began to withdraw his cock, any coherent thought disappeared from your mind entirely. As he pushed back in, you couldn’t help but rise to your tiptoes, following the lead of his body fucking into you.

Sirius made sure you were accustomed to his size before beginning to properly fuck you. All the tension, the bullying back and forth, the teasing and times of losing your mind at the idiot that was Sirius Black had all been worth it as he fucked you unlike anyone before. He was toweringly tall when you were face to face, but when his chest brushed over your back, you felt much smaller as he seemed to crowd around you everywhere.

He breathed heavily into your ear, occasionally biting your lobe or sloppily kissing the junction between your shoulder and neck. However, it was the pounding of his cock that had you completely and utterly at his mercy. His strokes were deep and long, his entire length disappearing into your sopping-wet hole. It felt so unbelievably good that you didn’t even care that you were near enough to scream out your moans for anyone in the corridor to hear.

Your hand reached behind your head to find him, your fingers slipping into his hair again to hold them. Harder and harder, he pushed the two of you into the door; it was a surprise that the barricade didn’t break with the force he was putting into fucking you.

Then you felt the deep coiling in your core, like everything inside of you was tightening, all pleasure amplifying as your orgasm teetered on the very edge. It seemed Sirius could feel this too, with how tightly your spongey walls were suffocating him as he grunted louder into your neck.

“Wait, don’t cum yet; I’m so close, don’t cum”, you begged, not entirely wanting it to end just yet. Sirius gasped, his mouth opening wide as his eyes did the opposite as they clenched shut as he concentrated on fucking you and not orgasming.

It doesn’t take long to feel the first flutterings of that eye-wateringly beautiful sensation between your legs as you quickly stammer, “I’m cumming! Fuck- You can cum, please cum with me”. Sirius’ legs nearly gave out underneath him, hearing your sweet words.

As your pussy contracted in wet bursts around him, Sirius released every drop of cum inside of his body, deep into your walls so that you could feel yourself becoming full and it beginning to drip out as it became too much. His thrusts slowed to a stop as you both slumped against the door, catching your breath for a moment, the tiny store cupboard now becoming suffocating.

The after-orgasm guilt hit you like a tonne. What had you done? You’d just fucked your worst enemy, and his cock was still inside you.

You couldn’t help yourself; you needed to ruin the moment, need to get free and cry into your pillow over what an idiot you are, so with hate and distaste, you turned your head further over your shoulder. “This changes nothing between us”.

Sirius took a moment to process the words before his mouth was hovering over your ear, his breath tickling your skin, “Not at all, Sunshine, I still hate you”.

Good, you think. That’s what you’d hoped because you still hated him too… right?

With a grunt, you elbow his stomach again but with less force, just needing him to back away from you. Thankfully he did without any arguments, his softening cock slipping out of you and globs of his cum following this.

With trembling knees, you shoved your dress back down. Reaching around in the darkness, you found the door handle and turned, neither of you saying another word as you walked out of the door, hair a mess, make-up running down your cheeks, dress creased, lips swollen and cum still dripping down your thighs.

You walk with as much confidence as possible, keeping your head high as you try not to turn around and see if he is watching you walk away. It was only as you turned the corner that you realised you’d left your underwear in there with him; cursing to yourself, you turned back, not wanting another student or someone to find them. You weren’t sure if you were happy or sad when you returned to the cupboard to find Sirius gone, but not only that, but your underwear was too.

[minhosimthings]

Prideful

Synopsis: You never thought that Lee Heeseung, the man who had proven you wrong in the subject you were best at, would be fucking you on the classroom floor, but here you were.

Pairings: Heeseung × fem!reader, sort of enemies hate sex, includes Sunoo from Enha, and Soojin

Warnings: Smut with plot in the beginning, MINORS DNI, fluffy in the beginning, mention of food, degradation, praise, fingering, oral (f receiving), sex on the floor, unprotected sex (not for you bubs), rough sex, overstimulation, swearing, Heeseung calls reader princess and doll, open ending my babies have fun with that

A/N: idea came into my brain and I thought I'd forget about it and just added it to my wip list but then I was like NOPE IMMA WRITE THIS SHIT. So this makes my third smut for Heeseung (idk why I'm writing only smut for him) enjoy it y'all

Jane Austen once wrote an entire fanfic about enemies to lovers, slow burn, and she thought no one would notice. Well almost no one. Nothing ever gets out of the eyes and pens of literature majors does it? Especially not out of hardcore Jane Austen fans like yourself.

You must have analysed that godforsaken piece of literature atleast a thousand times since you recieved it as a gift for your birthday. And every single time, you failed to understand how such a love could be possible. I mean come on, a man and woman who hate each other, falling in love with each other? Either Jane Austen must have been a reincarnation of Aphrodite, or a madwoman who still kept faith in love.

Your heart nearly exploded when your professor had assigned a full fledged essay-presentation, costing half your grade on Pride and Prejudice. "Explore your opinion!" She had called out cheerfully, "Tell me what your heart truly feels about this beautiful piece and I'll give you a full half grade and no assignments for the rest of the semester." The class gasped in excitement at her words as you pretended to be interested. Internally, you were groaning. Wasting half of your night to make a presentation about a book you hold no love for? The universe really was against you. You picked your books up dejectedly and walked towards the entrance, shoulders hunched and music at a higher level of noise than it should have been at.

"Oh shit!" You cursed, dropping your books at the sudden interruption. A flurry of blue wool flooded in your face, as you leaned down quickly to pick up your fallen books and phone. "I'm so sorry." You apologised not looking up at whoever you crashed into. "It's alright." A voice responded back, and you looked up to see him. Lee Heeseung. You had seen him a few times in class, heard him actually. With his pristine glasses, and his woolen sweaters, he was the definition of a movie nerd. He was actually smart, you had to admit, always quick to respond to the questions that you had no idea about. Best in the class after you, according to your professor. Although his choice of literature slightly weirded you out. You often spotted him sprawled out under a tree, holding Pride and Prejudice to his nose, deeply engrossed in taking in each word.

"Is that The Neighborhood you're listening to?" Heeseung asked, as he handed you your phone, which he had picked up before you had the chance to. "Do you have an ear for them?" You asked, taking the phone from him. His hands felt soft, like the first snow when you were eight. Heeseung shook his and chuckled. "I'm more of a Arctic Monkeys person." You smiled awkwardly and shuffled your feet. "To each his own then."

"Macbeth." Heeseung said, before you could escape from the conversation. "I'm sorry?" You questioned, confused at his sudden outburst. "That line's from Macbeth." Heeseung sent another smile your way, pushing his glasses up from his nose, "Polonius says it, 'To each his own'." You felt a pang of jealousy hit your chest. You didn't know where that line was from. Of course, what normal person would know the origin of a common idiom?

"Cool." Your laugh was not without a tint of awkwardness. "Well-" Heeseung shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "Bye then." "Bye." You bid each other goodbye and rushed off in opposite directions, not wanting to be stuck in another neverending loop of conversation.

"Don't tell me you actually talked with The Lee Heeseung." Your roommate Soojin laughed, accidentally smearing some turquoise nail polish onto your thigh. You quickly wiped it off with a tissue before frowning at Soojin. "It's not a big deal." You scoffed, having another slice of pizza, "I mean he's just a guy. Kinda nerdy actually"

Soojin burst out laughing again, this time shutting her nail polish close. She gasped for air as she pulled out her phone and showed you a picture of a what looked like a frat party. "Girl-" she got up from her leaning position, "Nerdy is the worst way to describe Lee Heeseung. I'm telling you-" she picked up the last slice of pizza, "-he's the playboy representative of this college."

"Oh come on." You scoffed again, getting up to go to the bathroom, "Stop joking around." Soojin shrugged her shoulders as you disappeared into the bathroom. "Whatever you say."

The next day, you strolled into your favourite cafe with your laptop, headphones, a copy of Pride and Prejudice, money in your pocket, a sketchbook, and a positive mindset. Always need one to write an essay right? You were thankful that it wasn't raining today like it had been for the past few weeks.

The cafe was mostly empty, with a few medical students drinking coffee to their death, as they always did. You walked up to the counter, where you saw your friend Sunoo, working his shift.

"Y/N hey!" He flashed his bright smile at you, putting down the glass he had been cleaning. "Hey sun." You clapped back, leaning in front of the counter, "The usual please." Sunoo nodded his head and started to prepare your drink. "So I've heard something." He put on his mischievous smile, one that he often wore when he had gossip on his fingers. "Please tell me it's not about that girl from Chem again." You sighed, as he put a coffee cup down in front of you. "No it's about you dumbass." Sunoo scoffed, taking the money you handed him, "I heard you bumped into Lee Heeseung." You let out a groan at his words, and quickly grabbed your drink, going off to sit in the corner. "Yah take your change!" Sunoo shouted after you to which you shouted back, "Keep it! Your broke ass needs it anyway!"

You didn't get the chance to see Sunoo giving you the stink eye, as you plopped down on the comfortable couch and opened up your laptop. You had prepared a few opening lines the night before, since you had learnt that doing half of an assignment on the day of the announcement is better than starting the next day. Whoever wrote that theory needs to clarify it to you, but hey never pass up a good study tip right?

Immersed by the clacking of the keyboard keys and the pretty syllables decorating your page, you were completely absent from the world around you. Until, you heard a familiar voice, which broke you out of your hypoxia.

Heeseung.

What was he doing here?, You thought, not realising that you were basically staring at him. He was dressed in full black today, a leather jacket adorning his broad shoulders. A single earing dangled from his right ear. He still had his glasses on, which were fogged up completely, courtesy to the weather outside. Chatting away sonderly to Sunoo, as Sunoo prepared his drink in a way familiar to you, Heeseung caught your eye. He waved joyfully to you, akin to a child waving to their best friend. You waved back, not aware of the face you were currently making.

"Hey!" Heeseung said, sitting down in the chair next to you, with his drink in hand, "Working up on the Pride and Prejudice thing?" There were atleast a million other seats empty in the cafe. Why did he have to sit next to you? You didn't really realise how handsome he was, until he was sitting face to face with you. The mere sunlight coming in from the windows seemed to illuminate his face well. "Oh yeah I am." You replied, shooting him a smile, "Same thing?" You asked, wanting to keep the conversation going. Heeseung smiled jovially at you and propped his laptop open. "Yep." He replied and glued his eyes to the screen as you went back to your own work. "The Neighborhood again?" He raised an eyebrow, peeking at your open Spotify. You smiled gently and replied, "Arctic Monkeys?" As if ticking a correct answer, Heeseung laughed and showed you his phone where 'Arabella' was playing. A pretty album cover, you thought, subtle and sleek. "To each his own then?" Heeseung said. You nodded and smiled in response, before dropping your head back down to your laptop.

An hour must have passed like this, both of you hypnotised in writing and editing, and downing the refills of coffee Sunoo was providing you with. You stole tiny glances at Heeseung from time to time. Concentration was a good face on him, his eyebrows furrowed, his hands typing away furiously at the keyboard. He didn't talk to you at all, except for the initial hey and hello. But something about the way he spoke to you in the beginning, about the way he asked if you had a pen, and about the way he said 'Hey you have an eyelash on your nose' made your stomach erupt into butterflies.

Heeseung left before you did and before leaving he had extended a hand out to you. "May the best essay win." He spoke, shaking your hand and showing you his smile. God he never stopped smiling did he? His hand was soft, as was his grip on yours. It felt like how your father would hold your hand when you were little on the crosswalk.

"Girl just ask him out." Sunoo called after you as you were about to leave, "The tension between both of you back there was almost poetic." Even though you laughed at Sunoo's quip, and denied the offer, a part of your mind lingered on Sunoo's words and the way Heeseung spoke to you that afternoon.

The days leading upto the hour of the presentation went fast. Too fast almost. Your mind went over your short conversation with Heeseung atleast a million times, sometimes distracting you from typing. You didn't know where all the red bull cans littered across your room came from, but you remember where you threw every single one of them and why. The presentation was perfect. It must have been checked by your eyes atleast a hundred times. Finally, a time was coming when you would be able to express your true feeling about it. Despise and Trouble ran through your veins as you walked up to the board as your professor called on you to present. The class seemed to hold a tight breath to themselves. Everyone knew you, teacher's pet, best at English, known for using the most difficult metaphores in her essays yet having a straightforward point.

"Shall I begin?" You asked your professor who gave a curt nod and leaned back in her chair, an expectant smile plastered on her face. You returned the smile and turned to your classmates, who seemed most interested in your essay.

"Well to begin with, as one does-" humor was always the best way to start off speeches, which was shown by the subtle laughter of the students, "-I would like to say that Pride and Prejudice may be one of the most despised books I have sitting in my bookcase." You heard gasps around the room as everyone started murmerring. Your professor leaned forward in her chair, her mouth pressed tightly to form a thin line. That's good, you thought, a good way to break into their corneas.

"While most people would disagree with me upon this apparent piece of art, I truly believe that this sort of a romance is highly impossible. And no-dont tell me that this is fiction and in the fictious worlds you can quote unquote 'do whatever you want'." The audience held their breaths back as you continued with your rant. Your professor was watching it all with a smile on her face, knowing that she couldn't disagree with you. After all, you had to present your own opinions no matter how opposite they were to everyone else's.

"Well-" you professor stood up from her chair, as you finished your presentation. It had been a 25 minute rant about the book and by now everyone seemed to be meekly looking at their own essays. "That was brilliant Y/N. Truly brilliant." You professor clapped you on the back, "I must say, you have a flair for arguing in a way no one can find counter-attacks. I wonder why you did not choose law as your major?"

"Because there is another argument to be discussed here."

A cold voice rang through the room, as you were about to laugh at the professor's quip. You spun around on your shoes to face the culprit.

Lee Heeseung.

"Heeseung!" Your professor delightfully responded clapping her hands together, "Well why don't you tell us your opinion then? And we'll see if Y/N can fire back." She sat in her chair again, looking positively delighted at the forthcoming, "A battle of the best wits perhaps!"

Heeseung smiled widely and stepped forward to where you were sitting, plopping down on the opposite chair. Your professor had always kept two chairs facing each other in front of her class, for debates, her reason sounded. And now, as you sat in front of Heeseung and his stupidly handsome smirk, you swore you were going to bring him down.

"First of firsts-" Heeseung began, as everyone's attention caught on you. "-your opinion is speaking from a highly biased perspective." "How so?" You fired back, before he could even breathe, "I had already stated in the beginning, about how this cannot be on a biased perspective, since fiction based in actual words cannot be this animated." Heeseung smiled again, which threw you off track a bit. God he's handsome, you thought, too handsome....

"Of course but must I remind you, that this book was perhaps the first out of many to start with the trope of enemies to lovers?" Why were his eyes like galaxies?, "Jane Austen invented an entire trope, which still remains a genius scan of literature to this day. How could you say it's too animated?"

"Yes but-"

"Furthermore-" Heeseung continued, not giving you the chance to breathe, "inventing new tropes does not break this 'law of literature' as you say. Since there was no law of literature to begin with. So please Miss Y/N-" he leaned forward, looking at you with dangerous eyes, "-don't you dare say that Pride and Prejudice is a worthless piece of literature just because it does not have proof of poetry."

The class let out a breath as you sat frozen in your seat. Someone actually breaking your argument was a first for you.

God, his hair. His pretty curly hair.

You didn't realise how long you'd been staring at Heeseung with widened eyes until your professor clapped her hands together again.

"Well then!" She said cheerfully, effectively breaking you out of your stupor, "I believe this goes for grading both of you an A+. Half of your grade is filled you two! Congratulations!" The class broke out into applause as you thanked her and awkwardly shook hands with Heeseung as the bell rang loudly. "Well class I'll be seeing you next time!" Your professor announced, as everyone started filing out. "Oh Y/N, Heeseung a moment please?"

You stopped your feet from stepping out the door and immediately spun around, marching off towards your professor, seeing Heeseung doing the same. "Yes Professor Kim?" Heeseung responded with those stupid puppy eyes of his before you could. Professor Kim smiled gently at both of you, before pulling out her tablet.

"I need a bit of help from both of you. It'll be sort of a favour to you too." She handed you the tablet, which had a sort of letter open on it. Heeseung leaned from behind you, and put his chin on your shoulder, making your stomach feel clammy. He smelled good too, you thought, like fresh paper.

"An event is being hosted by our Dean for all majors." Professor Kim smiled, "Sort of a career booster you could say. We were instructed to pick two students from our classes to have the assignment of checking essays, and documentations and whatnot pertaining to their majors."

"And you chose to pick us Ma'am? I'm flattered." Heeseung chuckled, as Professor Kim laughed to his quip. "Well you two are my best students." She drawled, "So the assignment I'm giving you is-" she pulled out a huge stack of papers from beneath her desk. It shocked you how quickly they appeared out of nowhere, like magic. "-these are all essays collected by last year's class. I want you to go through them, give them a good critic, and grade them according to you. You will personally grade each one, taking each other's help of course,since it's a group project. And it will lend you a helping hand since you'll be getting a certificate which you can use to get into any company you'd like!"

You and Heeseung glanced at each other and we're relieved to see the same excited expression face back at them. This was a rare opportunity, a diamond of the first water you'd say. And you had to grab it, even If that meant it was with a person you despised with your entire being.

"I'll do it Professor!" You replied positively to which Heeseung also nodded frantically as if to say the same thing. "Great!" Professor Kim clapped her hands together again, "Oh and one rule is you two have to work together in this classroom. Since the Dean wants to provide you with an opportunity to see how workplace relationships doon out."

Your heart dropped to your stomach as you heard her words. You, working with Heeseung in an empty classroom? You would rather have praised Pride and Prejudice.

"Here, the keys." Professor Kim handed you and Heeseung a pair of keys, "You can work in the evening if you want. But make sure to complete it as soon as you can alright? Oh and you can skip classes if you want to do this first, since the Dean is prioritising this before anything else." You nodded in response to her instructions and bowed her goodbye as you and Heeseung walked out.

"So-" Heeseung stuffed his hands in his pockets, "You wanna work on this shit tonight?" "Unless you have any other appointments, sure we can work on it tonight." You responded, coldly, not looking at him in the eye. "Alright then." Heeseung scoffed, "Meet you here at 8?" "Alright." The end of your conversation came a little too fast, you thought, but you couldn't stand looking into his pretty little eyes and talking to him, as if he didn't just embarrass you infront of your entire class a few minutes ago. "Y/N wait!" Heeseung called, running up to you, as you were about to exit the building. "What?" You spun around to face him. "Shouldn't we exchange numbers first?" Heeseung handed you his phone, which had his contact list open. "Why? So you can take me out on a date later?" You shot at him. A smirk tugged on the corner of Heeseung lips, but he resisted, not wanting to anger you more. You looked cute when you were angry in his opinion. "No. Maybe incase you were murdered by someone on the way here, I can call you and scold you on why tardiness is a childish thing to do." Heeseung joked. You smiled sarcastically at him as you handed him his phone back, having typed in your number. "Eight o'clock princess don't you forget now."

Tick tock tick. The clock's quiet sons echoed through the empty class. 'Don't forget.' you scoffed, 'And he's the one who's late.' The time on your watch sounded 8:30 and yet Heeseung wasn't here. You had given up waiting for him, and started on the assignment yourself, already finishing two of the army of papers. You were a hard critic, and it clearly showed in the way you were seeping your eyes through the ink.

"Soojin he's late! I can't come back now!" Your roommate had called you, in the midst of your third paper, complaining about a cockroach in the room. "Just call your boyfriend, and don't be such a pussy it won't hurt you." You scoffed at Soojin, whose scared whimpers were heard clearly through the phone.

"How's the checking going?" Soojin asked, having seemingly calmed down. You groaned and leaned back in your chair, wincing at the crack of your backbone. Your back must have become stiff from the amount of time you had been sitting in that chair. You felt pity for your professors for the first time, having finally been in their shoes.

"Heeseung's not here yet and I'm literally so fed up right now." You complained to Soojin, "That handsome bastard told me not to be late, and now look where I am! Asshole seriously." "He'll turn up, cool down Y/N." Soojin soothed you. You heard a sound of crashing in the background and stifled a laugh, assuming that Soojin must have miraculously jumped from one bed to the other. "I told you he's a playboy." Soojin panted through the phone, "Maybe he's busy fucking some poor girl in his frat house." You rolled your eyes at her statement.

"Please." You scoffed, "He couldn't fuck a girl if he wanted to, with the tiny ass cock he has." Soojin let out a raucous laugh from the other side of the phone. "How the fuck do you know he has a tiny cock?" She chuckled. "Intuition baby." You responded, "And my intuition is never wrong."

"Like how it was on the day of our debate?"

A familiar voice again. But this time, the warmth in it wasn't present. You whipped your head around to the door, where Heeseung stood, leaning against the door and smirking. "Soojin I'll call you back." You cut the call, before Soojin could respond.

"Hey." You called out to Heeseung. "Hey." Heeseung shot back, sitting down on the chair in front of you, spreading his legs wide. An involuntary gulp went through your throat. "What were you saying princess?" He leaned forward, his shirt dropping down slightly, "I have a tiny what now?" The dim lighting of the room, made his eyes look dark, and the leather of his black jacket, gleam more. "I- I wasn't saying anything Heeseung." You responded, turning your chair back to the desk, warmth coming up on your cheeks. Heeseung cocked his head to the side and smirked at your flustered state.

"Really princess?" He smirked, edging closer to you. The smell of his cologne filled your nostrils again. His glasses dropped on his nose, and he hadn't even bother to push them back up. "Heeseung just get to work." You sternly responded, trying to keep your cool. How could you though? When he was so close to you, lips almost touching your ear. "For you information-" Heeseung spoke, turning your attention away from the paper you were working on, "-I had a friend who needed a lift to his dorm, so I ran a little late. But you couldn't wait for me could you princess?" He smirked, laying his hand on top of yours, "Just couldn't wait to critique all those papers like the good girl you are." "He-Heeseung." "Shh don't." Heeseung shushed you, "You want to see how tiny of a cock I really have then hmm?"

"Heeseung we shouldn't." You hesitated, feeling your legs warm up. "No one's gonna know, as long as you don't make a noise alright?" He kissed your neck gently, turning your figure to his, still sitting in the chair. "Oh princess, already wet for me?" He chuckled, toying with the button of your shirt. "Heeseung-" you moaned out, quickly unbuttoning your shirt, as Heeseung took off his jacket and threw it on the desk. You pulled back slightly as your mind came to its proper senses. "Where are you going doll?" Heeseung questioned, hands resting on your thigh, squeezing it from time to time, "Don't worry princess, no one's gonna know."

Heeseung brings his lips down to yours in an instant, wasting no time. You gasp at his sudden actions and he takes advantage of that by entering his tongue into your mouth. You grab at his shoulders while he cups your jaw with both of his hands. Your hands reach his hair, softly tugging at the root and you hear him whine. Heeseung sucks on your bottom lip, catching it between his teeth and pulling it back to look at you. You look up at him and he takes your face in his hands.

“You wanna see my cock baby?” Heeseung asks in a teasing tone as he looks down at you. You could feel the throb in his pants press against your legs as you whimper. “Hee please.” You whine, squirming as he places a kiss between your breasts. Heeseung runs his hands up and down the sides of your body. If he was going to fuck you on the classroom floor right there and then, you were going to let him.

“Oh, you're feeling extra polite today huh? Please, Heeseung.” Heeseung mocks you with a tiny laugh. You groan in embarrassment and hide your face with your hands. Heeseung just lets out another laugh and wraps his hands around your wrists, prying them away from your face. He transfers both of your wrists to one hand, holding them over your head as he uses his other hand to trail his fingers down your body.

“Don’t hide your pretty face now, princess.” Heeseung says nonchalantly as he dips a hand inside your leggings and panties to feel your dripping cunt. His glasses were beginning to fog up slightly as he whipped them off of his face, setting them down on the desk. You clench around nothing when you feel his middle finger dip into your wetness and bring it up to your clit, rubbing slow circles around it. You moan softly as Heeseung teases your clit, never taking his eyes off of your face.

Heeseung begins to rub your clit faster, and you buck your hips up into his fingers. You hear him laugh at your eagerness and he presses soft kisses into your neck. Heeseung takes his fingers off of your clit and he snaps the waistband of your trousers against your pelvis.

“Dirty girl. Never thought you'd be like this.” Heeseung says with a smirk and you dumbly nod your head. The sounds of your heavy breathing and your pussy squelching around his fingers make your legs begin to shake.

Heeseung spits on your cunt to lubricate it even more, and that's what makes you come undone. Your cunt clenches around his fingers, sucking them in as he fingers you through your orgasm.

Heeseung takes his time kissing down your body, letting your need and desperation build by the second. He tugs one nipple and then the other into his mouth, suckling at the perky nubs and massaging your areola between his lips. Your hips are trembling with anticipation, the space between your legs aching to feel Heeseung's kiss.

Stars hover over you, or at least, that’s how it feels. Your eyes are closed, awareness cut off to the world around you except the place Heeseung's face is buried. He devours your cunt like a man starved, swallowing you whole. Heeseung doesn’t come up for air; he doesn’t need to, because all he breathes is you. Your back is arched and arms stretched forward, fingers clutching Heeseung’s hair in fistfuls.

Your thighs are shaking, reflexively clamping around Heeseung's’s face. He keeps forcing them open, demanding full access to your cunt, even as you buck and claw and convulse. Your mouth hangs open in a stupor; a thin line of drool trickles down your cheek and connects to the cold floor beneath you.

Heeseung laps at your slit like he’s never tasted you before, like he never will again. His tongue pads between your lips, upward strokes that end with the tip of his tongue flicking your clit with a firm intensity that has you reeling. Tugging at his hair, trying not to scream his name incoherently, you ride out the longest orgasm you’ve ever had. Tears burn the corners of your eyes, stars bursting in the black sky of your vision. Heeseung doesn’t stop licking your cunt till you release his hair.

“M’gonna fuck you now, okay?” Heeseung says sweetly and you nod your head. He runs his hard cock through your folds, and he catches your clit, making you jerk a little. Heeseung slowly begins to push himself into you and you throw your head back against the hard material of the desk.

“Fuck, knew you’d be tight when I felt you around my fingers.” Heeseung grits out, and he continues to push himself into you until he bottoms out. He starts to move at a slow pace, and he whines when you beg him to move faster. “Fucking whore. Bet you think about me fucking you in class don't you?” Heeseung spits out as he pushes himself harder and deeper into your sloppy cunt. You moan at his words, and you try to reply but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

“Hee, I’m gonna cum.” You cry out, and you clench around Heeseung's fat cock.

“ Cum for me princess.” Heeseung. moans out, fucking into you so deep, a ring of your cum and his has formed at the base of his cock. You run your fingers through his hair, harshly tugging on it as you come undone at his expense. Heeseung buries his face into your neck as he cums, sucking at your pulse point. You feel his cum shoot into you and it only prolongs your own orgasm.

After a couple minutes of you two catching your breath, Heeseung takes his face out of your neck and plops down in the chair, pulling you onto his lap. You sit there, dazed for a few seconds, burrowing your head in his chest, his heartbeat reminding you where you were.

"Well that was a whirlwind of emotions." He says at last, when you start to stir from your hypnosis, "You good doll?" You nod slightly and feel Heeseung's arms wrap around you, putting you safely down on the chair, as he put his clothes back on, slowly picking up yours as well.

"Heeseung the assignments." You panic, as he puts your shirt back on you. "It's alright princess." He coos at you, wrapping an arm around your waist, "We can do that in the morning. Let's get you home." He guides you slowly out the door. "So-" he smirks, locking the classroom with his key "Same time, same place tomorrow?"

[forzaferraris]

PUPPY LOVE — po5

pairing: patricio o'ward x stella! reader summary: in which the dog got your attention first but the boy keeps you forever. warnings: tooth rotting fluff, sexual innuendos, inaccurate timeline of events, reader doesn't know much about indycar, arrow mclaren when i catch you arrow mclaren, pato and his fascination with calling reader hermosa, references to the art that is bax lurmans romeo + juliet film, love blooms in abu dhabi and blossoms further in miami. style: social media file faceclaim: isabllemathersx on instagram, however you can picture her as whoever you please authors note: trying a new formatting approach for fics with this one. this is fic number 2/3 of my 3 fanfic options i posted earlier. sorry if this is a little ooc for pato, i also original had thi based this instead of meeting at indycar but instead they meet at the 2023 abu dhabi grand prix instead ! add yourself to my taglist !

WELCOME TO YOU'VE GOT MAIL . . . find a match today !

would you like to send a message? YES / NO

you: what's your dogs name, right now >:( pato: his name is norbi why are you on a dating app? surely finding love isn't all that difficult for you? you: originally i did it to entertain my girls' group chat, but after every loser i've tried to meet "naturally" ultimately fumbling the bad so disrespectfully, why not take this dating app stuff a bit more seriously 🤷🏻‍♀️ pato: what are you even doing in abu dhabi anyway? you: how do you know im in abu dhabi? pato: this app is location-based, you wouldn't have been able to match with me if you weren't in the same location as me, plus you just confirmed it with that question. . . . seen 3 minutes ago

ynstella just posted to their story . . .

seen by racerbia, francisca.cgomes and 12,3009 others [ caption one: why did i say yes to coming to abu dhabi, shit is fucking hot ] [ caption two: abu dhabi gp, i'm here to make you my bitch ] [ caption three: your favourite duo back to cause trouble @/racerbia ] view more story replies . . . landonorris baby stella in the building ! ⤷ ynstella baby? lando norris i'm older than you ⤷ landonorris by like three whole months >:( ⤷ ynstella L + ratio + wrong + get a job + unfunny + you fell off + never liked you anyway + cope ⤷ ynstella im gonna curse the race, are we prepared for max verstappen 3x wdc ! ⤷ landonorris i'm literally going to to dob on you, you're being so mean rn >:( ⤷ ynstella you dirty little dibber dobber cindy !

alexandrasaintmleux prettiest girl <3 ⤷ ynstella says you i'm gonna smooch your face on that podium cmere mwah mwah mwah kissy kissy ⤷ alexandrasaintmleux stop got me blushing, charles it looking at me weird ⤷ ynstella he doesn't have to know baby girl x

francisca.cgomes you're so hot, if dating app hottie doesn't pull you i might ! ⤷ ynstella i'm blushing, flirting with the enemy, whatever will my dad think ⤷ francisca.cgomes babe it's a modern day romeo + juliet, but the baz lurhman edition. ⤷ ynstella who is who in this situation? oscarpiastri lando said stop being mean to him on social media ⤷ ynstella lando give oscar his phone back

racerbia we r so cute, i luv us !

pooknation groupchat . . .

instagram dms between ynstella and patriciooward . . .

ynstella has posted . . .

liked by mclaren, oscarpiastri, francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux and 88,340 others ynstella abu dhabi, i came i saw and max verstappen concurred !

view more . . mclaren our own resident mclaren girl will always post about redbull and not mclaren ⤷ ynstella i'd post oscar but lando is somehow always in the background of the pictures i take, i'm not having lando on my account 🙅🏻‍♀️ ⤷ landonorris can i go one day without you publicly hating me ⤷ ynstella when you get a race win next season pooh bear x username pooh bear? is lando the man she's trying to soft launch? not actually enemies but enemies to lovers?? ⤷ ynstella good lord no. lando norris wishes he could have a chance with me ⤷ landonorris disgusting don't put words in my mouth. you wish you're the one wishing you could have a chance with me ⤷ oscarpiastri nurse, they're back at it again francisca.cgomes i need more of this soft launch shit. it's like a drug to me post more. im foaming at the mouth. ⤷ ynstella can i hard launch our relationship instead ⤷ pierregasly nah bc i am literally right here man ⤷ ynstella get out of my comments with my gf pear

username are we ignoring that y/n is soft launching a man, rue, when was this? ⤷ username recently it seems ⤷ username shocked. i wonder what her dad thinks ?? ⤷ ynstella not that its any of your business, but my dad's actually quite charmed with him x

patriciooward has posted . . . 📍 abu dhabi , united arab emirates

liked by arrowmclaren, elbaoward, racerbia and 63,001 others patriciooward what a weekend, cya next year !

view more. . .

username there's one too many soft launch pictures in this race weekend dump ⤷ username ladies we've lost another one ⤷ username all men are the same. breaking my heart elbaoward since when did "have a good time in abu dhabi" mean somehow get someone to soft launch? ⤷ patriciooward the just a silly lil guy rizz worked unfortunately ⤷ elbaoward i doubt that, so much.

ynstella just posted to their story . . .

seen by alexandrasaintmleux, landonorris, charles_leclerc and 10,817 others

[ caption one: where to next 🛫 ] [ caption two: mother hood looks good on me ] [ caption three: boyfriend reveal ]

francisca.cgomes i can't believe i'm in love with a MILF ! ⤷ ynstella i want you so bad 😩 ⤷ francisca.cgomes lets kiss rn before our boyfriends see

alexandrasaintmleux i think norbi is cute enough to convince charles that we need to get a dog ⤷ ynstella ugh i hate when you mention that man >:( how come WE can't get a dog together ⤷ alexandrasaintmleux my love because you are a capulet and i am a montague </3 ⤷ ynstella as long as lando is the character that dies first i'd happily performe shakespeare with y'all

landonorris this is insane, my brain can't keep up with the events that are unfolding right in front of me ⤷ ynstella pook i think that's both a you issue and a skill issue, double homicide. ⤷ landonorris oh so you hate me again ⤷ ynstella i never stopped, if you have 0 haters i've died <3

patriciooward te mo hermosa ⤷ ynstella shut up, don't tell me you love me over text, that's so foul ⤷ patriciooward i've been telling you i love you for two months now </3 ⤷ ynstella oh shit, i forgot to buy you an anniversary gift </3 ⤷ patriciooward oh hermosa, what am i going to do with you ⤷ ynstella well when you word it like that . . . i could think of a few things

patriciooward and ynstella just posted to their stories . . .

seen by arrowmclaren, racerbia, francisca.cgomes and 22,010 others [ caption one: feliz aniversario (happy anniversary) ] [ caption two: happy 2 months ! feliz aniversario ] [ caption three: came for the dog. stayed for the owner <3 ]

mclaren happy anniversary ! ⤷ ynstella thanks admin, love u so big x

ynstella i adore you, ⤷ patriciooward te adoro mas, hermosa ⤷ ynstella happiest with you in my life i fear ⤷ patriciooward good, i don't plan on going anywhere

authors note: abu dhabi 2023, you are so special to me <3 please enjoy this little pato o'ward fanfic. praying, manifesting the tags let me post this and doesn't shadowban me sobbing crying throwing up

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

Arranged marriage?

Royal au

Pairing: princess (to be queen) Natasha X autistic queen reader.

Warnings: Natasha being an asshole. (She gets better... Just not yet.)

I got this idea from a Pinterest post from Tumblr. Credits go to whoever that person is. If anyone can find the person who made the original idea please let me know so I can give proper credit.

Natasha was in a marriage she didn't want. Well not yet. The married part. Natasha definitely did not want the marriage at all. But technically she was only engaged. And Natasha hated the fact that her parents refused to let her rule unless she was married. But it was ok. Because she had a plan. Simple and easy. Wait a year or so after the wedding. Then kill queen y/n and live as a widowed queen on her own. Then she would rule alone and get two kingdoms to run. Hers and y/n's. Natasha thought it full proof.

Y/n pov:

I hate this. The meetings and arrangements for a wedding I honestly don't want. I didn't even want to be queen. I have dragons to study and no time to run a large and not to mention busy kingdom. I'm honestly hoping this new wife of mine can just run it for me while I travel to the scorching geysers that dragons tend to nest at. Though in all honesty my supposed to be wife scares me. She's so intimidating and scary. Constantly scowling at me as if I wanted this. I don't. Well I kinda do. Simply so I don't have to run this place. But still! Princess Romanoff could at least be a bit nicer...

It's another beautiful morning and I'm meant to be meeting up with princess Romanoff. And instead of being down in the main hall I'm in the library amongst several old books about striped winged dragons. I know where I'm meant to be but I don't want to have to deal with my scary soon to be wife. So instead I'm hoping that Natasha just thinks I forgot and goes back to her own kingdom.

A crash tells me I'm not going to get my wish. I glance above a pile of books only to see the cursing form of princess Natasha romanoff. I duck back behind my books again and hope against logic that she didn't notice me. Luck is not on my side. I wince as another crash echoes through the library. These are important and ancient books of history. History no one but me reads but still history! And then Natasha's head pops up over the shorter stack of books. Those are about the green clawed wyvern. I look up and see Natasha scowling at me.

"hi princess."

I try and greet her but Natasha's scowl only deepens. She's pissed. At me. Of course she is. I sigh and step out of my mountain of books. Walking around to greet the princess. I smile awkwardly. Natasha doesn't.

"you didn't show up in the great hall. Now I had to come and find you. Do you realise how messy this room is? You should hire a cleaner."

Natasha berated me for the millionth time. Truth be told I should get a cleaner in here but it's the only library study that holds the draconic records. So only I ever frequent the room and I'm not bothered by the dust. So I never got a cleaner. I won't bother explaining that to Natasha. I sigh and nod along to Natasha as she keeps ranting. I've learned that agreeing with her is easier than arguing.

"my apologies princess I forgot the meeting was today."

I try and remain polite as Natasha bursts into another rant about my incompetence. That seems to be her favourite thing to rant about nowadays. Until I notice the book I had been searching for earlier. The one about white bellied fire drakes and their subspecies. I know I should be focused on Natasha but I'm afraid if I look away I won't be able to find it again. I keep my unblinking gaze on the book. My mind blocking out Natasha's rant. Only I don't have the focus to feel guilty about not listening. I finally give in and push past Natasha to grab the book. My smile is wide as I pull it out and examine it. In perfect condition too!

Natasha gapes offended at me as I brush past her to get my book. But unfortunately for her ego I have bigger issues to worry about. I grab the books and brush the dust that had been collecting in it before marching over to my already crowded desk and slipping the ancient text onto it and flipping it open. My eyes light up as I see the familiar images of the white bellied fire drakes. When I finally look up Natasha is staring at me with probably more rage than any sort of fire wyrm that I've ever studied. I purse my lips and an apologetic look comes to my face. At least I hope it looks apologetic.

"ah right... My apologies princess.."

I try and smile but Natasha bursts into another rageful rant about disrespect and my idiotic behaviour and if we are meant to be married and yadayadayada I don't actually care currently I have my book. I sigh and prop my head up against my palm as I half pay attention to anything Natasha is screaming before I look down at my book and whoopsies I'm now paying attention to white bellied fire drakes.

By the time Natasha finishes her second rant I forgot she was even there as I am occupied with reading about ice bellied fire drakes, the close cousin to white bellied fire drakes. I recall a lot of the information in the book but it's nice to get a refresher. I don't remember Natasha is still there until she hits me on the head with a scroll. I look up confused until I realised what scroll she hit me with. The one about steelscaled amphipteres and I gently grab it from Natasha and sit it down gently.

"princess be careful these scrolls are incredibly old and could be damaged easily!"

I exclaim. I don't know what I'd do if any of these books and scrolls got damaged. Have a mental break down and lock myself up for a few weeks probably. It's not until Natasha responds that I look up.

"so what! It's just a bunch of mumbo jumbo anyway who cares."

I freeze and my eyes grow cold. How dare she. These texts are ancient words of history not a bunch of mumbo jumbo and the fact Natasha dare say so makes me angry. I stand up and walk to stand in front of Natasha.

"I care. And if you don't then get out of my library before I call my guards to come and escort you out so I don't have to deal with another one of your useless rants that nobody likes you insufferable pathetic human being."

I snarl. I know this is going to enrage the princess but she has no authority here and I used my serious tone. Meaning no arguments or else. This is my kingdom and I won't let Natasha act otherwise. And by her scowling and burning eyes she knows it too. And before I can say another word princess Natasha romanoff stalks out the room without another word. I sigh and sit down behind my desk. This is gonna be a long marriage.

A/n: this was originally meant to be a one shot but it's turned into a series. Yay! And before anyone comes for me about writing autism wrong I am autistic and this is how I would react in a situation like this.

[sugarushwriting]

bad idea, right?

frat boy sunghoon #5

part(s): one two three four

gonna start off breaking y’all’s hearts, but then happy ending yay

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

you really thought things were going well between sunghoon and you. three months and you both still argue like an old married couple. kiss like it’s the first time. fuck like it’s your last day together. comfort each other like best friends.

maybe you both started this relationship or situationship too soon.

although you both never thoroughly said “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” to one another, he was yours and you were his. you both weren’t seeing other people.

or at least you thought.

you hadn’t seen sunghoon for about 4 days as you had to force yourself to stay away to study for an exam, and finish a 5 page research paper for separate classes.

sunghoon would’ve just distracted you with his good looks. so you made the difficult choice to stay in your own dorm, in your own bed.

currently it was saturday night, and as usual the frat was having a party to end the football season and begin the basketball season.

you had originally told sunghoon you wouldn’t be able to make it.

however, you had the best roommate who helped you study for the exam (which you passed the day prior) and helped you with your paper (you did all the hard work, she proof read and made sure you had all materials). so, you finished your paper a day earlier than you planned.

with a big smile, you hugged minnie and literally skipped to the frat house to surprise sunghoon. sadly it was cold as fuck, so you wouldn’t be wearing a mini skirt that sunghoon claims to hate seeing you in but he secretly loves.

you wore tight flare jeans, and a off the shoulder knit black top, with black boots. you rather be warm and comfy than cold and uncomfortable in clothes that your man (?) would rip off anyway.

but your heart sank when you searched for sunghoon throughout the party, his own roommates and friends not having seen him for the past 30 minutes.

you tried one last door quietly, and immediately cusped your hand over your mouth, holding in a gasp, shutting the door back.

inside, sunghoon pulled away startled, “what was that?”

“nothing baby.” a female voice purred and brought her lips down to the hockey player once again.

he kissed her a few times back, hands resting on her hips until he pulled away, wiping his lips.

meanwhile you, your vision blurred fighting back tears and a sob. running down the steps, you ignore jay and the others calling after you.

“are we done?” sunghoon said, pushing the girl off his lap, she pouting.

“hoonie, i thought we were having fun?” she tried her best to seduce the boy, but he pushed her hand away from touching him.

“don’t call me that.” he spat. “this stays between us, and you lay off my girl.”

“we’ll see about that, sunghoon. hopefully she’s still your girl after this.” the girl twirled her fake red hair in her fingers, biting her lip.

you ran back to the dorm, cursing at yourself for even liking a guy like sunghoon.

he was a fuck boy for sake. a hockey player. a frat boy.

then you cursed at yourself once again for leaving like a baby. why didn’t you go in there and yell at him? yell at her?

because you were vulnerable with someone for once.

walking into your dorm room, minnie was surprised to see you back so early, and her face fell witnessing the tears fall down your cheek.

“oh baby, what happened?”

you sniffled and let out the biggest sob, running into your roommate’s awaiting hug.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

sunghoon had a raging headache the next morning. after leaving whoever that girl was behind, he drank himself unconscious.

he didn’t like kissing lips that didn’t belong to you. but he felt he had to. to keep you protected.

however that didn’t last when an unknown number had sent photos of him and the girl in close proximity and the girl on his lap, kissing him.

not only to his number but yours as well. the unknown person literally created a group chat to rub it in sunghoon’s face.

after seeing those pictures, you showed minnie, who immediately deleted the text and blocked both the unknown number and sunghoon.

sunghoon drive himself crazy, nearly pulling out all his hair on his head when you didn’t answer his texts or calls.

“she blocked me.” sunghoon swallowed. “no, no, no.” he threw them covers off of himself, slipping on sweats and a random shirt, for once not caring about his appearance.

he quickly brushed his teeth and washed his face, before running down the steps of the shared house, ignoring his roommates calling for him.

he had one thing on his mind and that was getting to you.

his peach.

“peach, baby, please open up!” he nearly cried himself knocking on your dorm door. “i can explain peach, please!”

you laid in your bed, wearing a hoodie of his, crying while hugging a pillow.

minnie walked up surprised to see the boy at the door.

“can i help you?” she crossed her arms. “this is my dorm.”

“you must be minnie,” sunghoon choked out. “please, please let me in to see her. i need to explain.”

“why don’t you explain to me first?” minnie asked standing her ground.

sunghoon sighed. “i—i can’t.” he shook his head. “just know i was doing it to protect her. protect us.”

“how does making out with another girl protect you both, huh?” minnie shot.

sunghoon hung his head in shame. “i didn’t know someone would send her photos.”

“she knew before the photos sunghoon. she went to the party to surprise you after finishing her work and caught you in the act.”

sunghoon snapped his head up, mouth open, eyes blurry. “wh—what?”

minnie nodded. “she came back crying to me, blaming herself.”

“no, no, no, it’s not her fault! it’s mine. i shouldn’t have taken the blackmail seriously.”

that’s when you ripped the door open, stopping the bullshit. “oh please! blackmail? seriously sunghoon? that’s the best you can do! if you wanted to end whatever this is between us you should’ve just said so!” you spat.

sunghoon and minnie were taken back from your outburst. (minnie was secretly proud though).

“peach—,”

“don’t call me that! you lost your privilege when you put your lips on another bitch!”

you pulled minnie in by her arm and slammed the door in sunghoon’s face, heart pounding.

sunghoon raised his fist to knock but decided against it. he’d go to the ice rink.

on the other side of the door, you let more sobs fall.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

the next few days, sunghoon felt like a zombie. a recluse zombie. he went to class and to the rink, that’s it. no extra curricular activities, no parties, no gatherings, nothing.

you became a recluse yourself, which actually was your usual self. back to keeping your nose in the books, in your own world, ignoring men around you.

you hate to admit that you missed sunghoon so much. you missed his touch, smile, laugh, the little beauty moles on his face. the softness of his hair.

you missed the sex too, of course.

you sighed, unable to concentrate on the book in front of you as you sat comfortably in a chair in the student center on campus.

it was pretty quiet besides the few students scattered around on this floor.

trying to get back into your book, a shadow peeped over the book and you were startled to see karina.

“hi.” she waved, biting her lip.

“hi karina.” you looked at the girl confusingly. you hadn’t spoken to the girl in months, so what was up now?

“i heard what happened between you and sunghoon.” karina said and took a seat next to you.

you raised an eyebrow. well, rumors spread fast. “that was fast.”

“well i saw you running out the house party. it seemed you were about to cry. before i could run after you i saw sunghoon with another girl.” karina pouted and reach to hold your hand. “i’m sorry.”

one thing about karina was she was good at acting. you didn’t know if she truly felt sorry or was faking. you had to tread carefully.

“it’s fine, i’m way out of his league anyway.” you sighed, pulling your hand away.

“nah babe, he’s out of your league.”

yeah something was definitely up. the karina who you used to hang out with would have definitely agreed with the first statement and never made the second one.

later that evening, karina found sunghoon after his game and cornered him after he came out the locker room.

with a wicked smile, she looked at the boy who seemed to haven’t slept in days.

“aw, poor sunghoon. missing his peach.” karina mocked, stalking towards him.

“what the fuck do you want karina?” sunghoon spat. karina just stared at sunghoon with a smile. sunghoon wasn’t dumb. it instantly clicked. “you set me up didn’t you?” he narrowed his eyes.

karina slowly clapped. “took you long enough. who else would know your peach’s deepest darkest secret?”

sunghoon still didn’t know himself, but if it was bad enough to be blackmailed about, he would do anything to protect you.

“why me?”

“i couldn’t go after her, in no way would she dare kiss another guy in exchange for blackmail. plus, you’d be too hard to sway away from her. on the other hand, all it took was one kiss with another girl and poof. bye bye peach.” karina chuckled.

if sunghoon wasn’t a gentleman, he would’ve punched karina by now.

sunghoon scoffed. “all it takes is for me to talk to her and she would understand i was set up.”

“tsk, i wouldn’t do that hoonie.”

“don’t call me that.” he spat.

karina laughed. “unless you want me to tell a certain someone your dirty little secret, i would stay away from her.”

sunghoon looked at her confused, scratching his eyebrow. “wh—what dirty little secret?”

karina smiled. “oh, nothing. i just happened to talk to two girls. one named minji the other named, what was it?” karina tapped her chin, in a deep fake thought. she snapped her fingers, “oh, jiheon!”

sunghoon’s own heart dropped hearing two names he hadn’t heard in forever.

“you really were a terrible human being in high school and during your first year in university, sunghoon.”

“i’m not that same person anymore!” sunghoon exclaimed. “and the second one, i didn’t know she was—,”

karina cut off the boy, “do you really think she’d care about that?” karina stalked closer to him. “don’t think i don’t know you also only slept with my best friend in the first place was to get back at me.”

sunghoon’s nostrils flared, “ex-bestfriend.”

“ha, is that the only part you’ll respond to? why? because you know the other part is true.”

“was.”

“doesn’t matter.” karina crossed her arms. “i’ll be seeing you around hoonie.” she smiled and walked off giving him the peace sign with her back turned.

sunghoon leaned against the nearest wall, leaning his head back. did he just lose you forever?

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

another month passed, and the first time sunghoon had seen you was just now. looking in your eyes as he found you in the crowd at his hockey game.

he was currently in the penalty box for fighting.

“sunghoon has been getting in trouble too much lately. if he keeps it up, he won’t be able to play in the finals!” sunoo gasped.

“that’s if the team makes it then. they play worse when their co-captain is in trouble.” jay added.

you shook your head, sitting next to the group of boys closest to sunghoon.

you hadn’t wanted to come for obvious reasons, but sunoo and minnie both encouraged you. one, sunoo didn’t want to come without you.

minnie had told you, “if you still find yourself having feelings after seeing him, you need to talk to him. hear him out, and find closure.”

minnie was right. even if you had no plans going back to sunghoon (which honestly broke you), you needed to find closure.

“how long has he been getting in trouble?” you asked sunoo softly.

he looked at you with a soft expression and a sigh. “about a month.”

“he won’t tell us what’s going on in that mind of his.” jay said, resting his chin in his hand. “the boy usually is able to control his anger either by being on the ice or you know,”

“fucking other girls.” jake leaned from beside jay finishing his sentence.

jay shook his head. “i don’t think the boy has been laid in about a month. actually more than that. you were the last girl he was with.” jay turned to you.

the boys knew you and sunghoon were no longer together. they just didn’t know what happened.

you looked at the boys who all were staring at you. sunghoon still looking at you from the penalty box.

“are you gonna ever tell us what happened?” sunoo asked grabbing your hand.

you sighed in defeat. “maybe one day. i need to talk to hoonie first.”

eventually sunghoon was welcomed back in the game, and his team won it, sending them to semi-finals next weekend in the city next over.

the arena slowly emptied out, leaving you sitting on the bleachers. before sunghoon walked to the showers with his team, you told him you would be waiting for him on the bleachers to talk.

about 30 minutes later, sunghoon walked out, dressed nicely with his hair still damp.

you looked up with a smile and patted the spot next to you.

you both sat quietly next to each other, scared to talk first.

in the end, it was sunghoon who talked first. and explained everything. don’t the time he was cornered at the party, up to karina’s threat a month ago.

“i should’ve tried to explain—,”

“you did hoonie, i just ignored you.” you sighed. “i’m sorry.” you apologized with a smile.

“nothing to apologize for peach.” he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. his heart fluttered when you didn’t push him off and tell him not to call you peach.

even more, you called him hoonie.

“i should’ve known karina was behind it. i should’ve had more faith and trust in you.”

“it’s okay. i’m a frat boy with a bad rep.” he kissed your hair line.

what you both knew what needed to be discussed was your secrets that were threatened to be revealed.

you inhaled deeply, needing to get this off your chest to sunghoon. “i’ve only told karina—regrettably, and minnie.”

sunghoon tightened his grip of your hand in his, intertwining your fingers. “it’s okay, i promise you can trust me.”

you explained how you indirectly killed an old friend of yours in high school. “she was so drunk, i should’ve fought harder to take the keys away from her!” you cried into his chest.

“peach it’s not your fault.” sunghoon soothed you by rubbing your back.

“it is! if i would’ve just taken her keys, then she wouldn’t have been able to drive! i just—i tried to fight back, but i was more inebriated than her. turns out someone spiked many drinks girls had when they weren’t looking.” you clutched his shirt in your grip.

sunghoon let you cry for a good 5 minutes until you calmed back down. “i’m a bad person, hoonie.”

sunghoon shook his head. “not worse than me, peach.” he sighed. sunghoon was nervous to tell you.

he swallowed, and you waited patiently to hear what his secrets were.

“the first girl, minji, um,” he scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “minji was a sophomore, i was a senior in high school.” sunghoon sighed closing his eyes. “i was a stupid, stupid teenager, peach. i knew she had a crush on me, and so did my friend group. there was an ongoing bet on how many girls we could mess around with, which bases. bonus if she was a virgin.”

you gasped, “sunghoon,”

“i led her on, knowing she had a crush on me, telling her that i didn’t want anything serious. she let me take her virginity and then i just ignored her.” sunghoon said. “at first i didn’t care, i had told her i didn’t want anything serious. she followed me around and i got so mad, i don’t remember what i said, but it was bad enough minji ran away in tears. few days later she attempted to take her own life.”

you held in a breath. “is, is she—?”

“she’s alive. after that, i sought her out and apologized. apologized to her almost everyday for the rest of my high school years. don’t think she ever really forgave me, just told me okay and to move on.”

you held tighter. definitely disgusted by what he did to the girl, no way excusing his behavior. “what about the other girl?”

sunghoon’s vision threatened to become blurry with tears, but he stated to himself he had no right. if anything, he was angry with himself.

“it was my freshman year in college. one of my first few frat parties i’ve been to. i walked in on two people, quickly apologizing and walked out. turns out she was being assaulted. she was barely conscious, her mouth covered by the guy.” sunghoon spat the last part disgusted.

“sunghoon—,”

“don’t say it’s not my fault because it is.” he said. “i could’ve stopped it! i could’ve beat that guys ass for disrespecting a girl. for hurting a girl. if i just had paid closer attention, i could’ve stopped it.”

“sunghoon, it’s not your fault.” you said.

“it is!”

“did you give her to this guy, knowing she was barely conscious?”

sunghoon stared at you like how could you even imagine something like that? “of course not.”

“then no, it’s not your fault, sunghoon.”

“the girl says the same thing.” he sighed.

“you’ve talked to her after the assault?” you asked and he nodded.

“yeah, i testified as a witness. although i quickly walked out, i was quick to recognize the guy. i had seen him earlier in the night wearing the same jersey and jersey number.” sunghoon explained. “i took her out for coffee to thoroughly apologized, and she told me it wasn’t my fault only the guy who assaulted her fault.” sunghoon closed his eyes. “even though i understand she says it’s not my fault, i am still disappointed in myself.”

“where is she now?”

“she moved away. dropped out of college. haven’t spoken to her since.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

you both arrived to sunghoon’s place after an intense conversation. you both had demons in your past that you all had to work on. but also agreed you both should’ve just tried harder to communicate.

it felt good to be laying in sunghoon’s arms, wrapped in his scent.

“just so you know, i’m making love to you tonight peach. nice and slow.”

you pouted. “aw not hard and fast? thought i found someone who matched my freak.”

“your freak? what about mine?” sunghoon laughed.

you playfully pushed his shoulder. “i match your freak!”

sunghoon quickly hovered over your body. “matching my freak would be letting me fuck you until you can’t walk in the middle of the ice rink.”

sunghoon leaned down to kiss the soft spot on your neck, immediately causing you to moan.

kisses trailed down to your exposed thighs as you only wore one of sunghoon’s shirts. nothing else.

“i will rent out the entire rink if that means i get to fuck you all over it, peach.”

sunghoon wasted no time to find his favorite place between your legs, your thighs immediately wrapping around his shoulders due to sensitivity.

you’ve missed his tongue.

it seems like sunghoon miss you, or shall you say cunt, because he inhaled your scent from below.

his tongue lapped up all you had to offer, his hands keeping your thighs now pushed apart. back arching off the bed, your fists gripping the sheets, you weren’t going to last much longer.

sunghoon knew your body like a map, and he knew you were close.

he removed his lips hesitantly, kissing back up your stomach, dragging the shirt with him to pull it over your head.

he kissed your lips once, nibbling at your bottom lip. “we’ll come together, peach.”

his nose touched yours, both of you looking into each other eyes, as you felt sunghoon trace his fingers over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its path.

as smooth as always, sunghoon pulled his pants and boxers off with ease, his shirt already being discarded. he eased in slowly to you, your body needing to readjust to the stretch.

“a month too long, peach.” sunghoon groaned once his full length was inside you.

“never again.” you groaned. “fuck sunghoon, please move. i don’t care if it’s fast or slow.”

your nails scratched his back, for sure leaving marks. his right arm wrapped around your stomach, leaving his arm as a barrier between the bed and your back.

sunghoon kept his promise as he fucked you slow. he had to be sure to get his point across. you were his. he was the only one that could make you feel this good.

his left arm kept sunghoon’s body from fully resting on yours, your eyes screwed shut, with your legs resting on each of his side.

this was the first time you and sunghoon ever took it this slow. not even lazy morning sex was this slow.

“hoonie, i—i’m close.” you moaned out, back arching more.

sunghoon bent down best of his ability to attach his lips to your neck. “come with me peach.”

soon you both came together, sunghoon not even worried about pulling out.

─── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ─── ─── ᯓᡣ𐭩 ─── ─── ᯓᡣ𐭩

authors note

≽^•⩊•^≼

the dirty little secrets could’ve been better but oh well

i love frat boy hoonie 🩶

[yoke9494]

Baby Making. (Gojo Satoru.)

*Originally written for Songbird. (Over and done with.)

*Higher ups/Gojo clan want a baby from you and Gojo. Both of you have been dodging it for years. Until Yuji came along. (Explanation in fic.)

*Mentions of Geto. (Who's still alive and didn't go all "You obey me now." on everyone)

*Readers cursed technique is summoning curses with sound. Also is related to Sukuna in a way and has one of his tattoos on her tongue.

*Songbirds are identified by a birthmark. (three dots on their lower lip.)

*Any children she has will copy her technique along with the father. (Yes even Gojo. Just go with it. The fic didn't follow the plot much.)

Gojo bullied the reader in her first year. His nickname for her is Kiwi. (after the flightless bird)

_____________________________

You hated it here.. Always have and always will.

The memory of the higher ups forcing open your mouth to sneer at the tattoo on your tongue. The mark that tied you to the so called king of curses...

It didn't matter to them that you also had the same mark on your lip as those who were considered gods.. The Songbird clan with the power to summon controlled curses from sound.

You were supposed to be a god that died out long ago. The very last one-- rhe first one to be seen in 1,000 years.

That didn't matter to them because of the mark on your tongue. The same mark Sukuna was said to have right in the middle of his forehead.

You needed to be killed!

But then came along the Gojo Clan. Despite them being good to you all these years. They were of greedy people, greedy for power and the desire to stay at the top.

Sure they had the infamous Gojo Satoru for that. But what if they had more than one? His offspring-- six eyes plus infinity along with a Songbirds technique? Their family name could never be tarnished.

So they literally bought you for their son.. They paid sooo much money for the higher ups to keep you alive. (And they let Yaga raise you since he *along with Geto* were the ones to find you. And you basically imprinted on Yaga like a baby duck.)

You would be kept alive long enough to give them and Gojo as many heirs as you could. Also since you were technically half a curse..

Well, you could also help track the rest of Sukuna's fingers since his blood ran in your veins. They would call to you. (And they did. You were the reason the school was in possession of 6 fingers.)

But eventually You were forced to marry the white haired bully. (Even though you were in love with his best friend) But the babies were pushed back once you had shown the higher ups you were of more use on the field than at home pregnant.

Until now..

---------------------

"The boy is to be executed--"

You cut whoever was talking off. "One child if the boy lives."

You stood next to Gojo with your arms crossed. The boy in question (Yuji Itadori) was a vessel. But this vessel was strong enough to control the King Of Curses? And they wanted him dead?!

Not on your watch. If you've been able to live all these years, then so should the boy.

Gojo slowly turned to you and smiled. Ready to say something stupid. But in reality it was a sense of pride. You've come along way from that weak, meek, Kiwi he met during his second year.

You ignored his presence as every single one of these pricks became quiet..

But of course it never lasted long. One of them cleared their throat.

"One child?"

You nodded. "One. Unless I become unfortunate enough to become pregnant with more. But I-- we will try for just one."

Their voices began to whisper and jumble together. The Gojo Clan had promised the higher up the children you and Gojo produced would be theirs to control. In order for them to stay at the top.

See.. greedy.

It was a good deal on the higher ups end. You've never been ready to have a baby just for you to give up.. And you never will be. But an innocent boy's life was on the line. And he was a boy that your already adopted son, (Megumi) wanted saved..

A voice spoke up behind you and Gojo. "A total of 4. They do not need to be born all at once, but within a year apart."

4?!

You felt Gojo lean in. "You don't need to do this."

You ignored him once again. "Only if the boy stays alive. And IF he is to be harmed by any of you or those that kiss your asses. The deal is off and I will terminate any pregnancy and be happily executed for it."

You were bluffing... -- but they didn't know that..

-----------------

Gojo let out a dramatic sigh as you walked the schools halls.

"So. Baby huh?"

You sucked your teeth. Yes, your relationship with Gojo was much better than how it was when you were kids. But he had pushed you so hard back then, you couldn't really stand him, even as an adult when his crudeness died down..

He let out an annoying chuckle. "Shouldn't you let Suguru know? I mean--"

You grabbed Gojo by his uniform and yanked him along. For someone with long legs-- he was really dragging his ass right now.

You didn't want to talk about Suguru. Fear that guilt might make you change your mind. But.. "He knew this was going to happen eventually. He always said he'd rather not know when.."

Gojo perked up. "Oh! So I guess it's a good thing for you that he's on a mission right now huh?" He snapped his fingers. "Damnit, and here I wanted to tell him the story of how I made you shake for once."

You rounded the corner and brought him into Shoko's infirmary. Thankfully it was empty and clean.

You left him by a table. "Sit there and wait."

Gojo watched you go up to a some cabinets and snoop around. He'll admit, when you were younger there wasn't much to look at. He's seen better-- but now?

Fuck you really filled out. Body more curvy, chest fuller, ass-- Your ass was a body part he's dreamed of biting into.. He didn't want to look anywhere else as you bent down to continue your searching.

But he had to ask. "What are you looking for? Are we going to get nasty in Shoko's space? Wanna use some of her tools? We'll clean them after of course--"

You rolled your eyes. "Take off your pants so this can go quicker. And shut up-- your voice is annoying."

He didn't need to be told twice. And to be honest.. he liked it when you were mean. It made little Gojo tingle.

Gojo wasn't going to admit it, but he was already getting excited. And he couldn't really understand it.. Was it because he always wondered what you would be like in bed? Well, not always.. Not until he saw Suguru coming out of your room one night. Walking down the halls in a state he's never seen his best friend before. (Fucked out)

Maybe he was jealous? But he couldn't really be, he gave Suguru permission to have a "relationship" with you behind closed doors.

The marriage was just a favor for Yaga. So he could have the little family he wanted.

Plus it got his own family off his back!--

But again.. You had changed so much. And he couldn't help but listen to that little voice in his head that said he wanted you after all.

"Are your pants off yet?"

Oh right!

You left into a different room and he wasted no time taking everything off.-- fuck it, he took nearly everything off. Leaving him only in his underwear..

Suguru may have told him stories just to get him to shut up. And they were nasty!

Would you rip his underwear off if he took forever and teased you first? Or would you just yank his dick out and use him? He wanted to be used..

Yeah, something was wrong with him.. But he didn't care!

You walked out of the room and scrunched up your nose.

Gojo was on one of the medical tables Shoko did all her dissecting on. Nearly butt naked while he held up his ankles, spread his legs and smiled at you. "Be gentle with me. This is my first time."

You rolled your eyes and let out a dry laugh. "Doubtful."

He could feel his heart racing and his cock twitching as you got closer.

You rounded the table and stopped by his head. Oh? Did you want to sit on his face first? He could do that for a while if you wanted. He should probably prep you anyways.

He was definitely bigger than Suguru--

A plastic cup was set down by his head-- his dreams crushed!

Gojo's legs went limp and his smile dropped. "What the fuck is that for?"

You gave him a droll look as he sat up-- pissed-- disappointed-- heartbroken!

You pushed the little cup towards him while he just stared at it like it disrespected his whole clan.

You tried to mimic that same dumb smirk he always had on. "Try not to waste any. I'll have Shoko shoot your baby gravy in me when she gets back."

His mouth hung as you began to walk away. Why didn't you want to do it the old fashioned way? The fun way!

"Can I at least get some help?"

You looked back and shrugged. "I'm sure you have Internet on your phone? You can watch porn.. or look at all the naked pictures you get from random women daily."

Gojo dug out his phone from his pocket. "Phones dead."

You rolled your eyes. "Use your imagination Gojo. I got shit to do."

He began to pout. "Pleeeeease. I won't bother you for the rest of the day. Just a peek?"

A day without him bothering you would be nice.

Like a puppy he jumped up when you lifted your shirt. Only for his shoulders to drop. "Aww. Stop being like that-- Can you at least pull down the bra?"

+++++++++++

Gojo always got what he wanted.. And he wanted you to suffer.

Not because he was mad at you. No. He was hurt! You rushed him when he tried to kiss every inch of your body. He pulled out all his best excuses just to get you to let him put his mouth on your soft tits for just a minute..

He begged for you just to touch him. What were you doing to him? He doesn't beg--

He whined and pouted until you finally got tired of all his bitching. Silently celebrating when you pushed him onto the table, climbed onto him and sunk down on his cock.

He got what he wanted, but he was hurt that you expected him to basically be a two pump chump. Now he was going to milk every minute of you on top of him.

You were going to learn today...

As fun as it was watching you struggle. Thighs shaking, nails digging into his chest, he just knew you were trying your hardest to not moan out his name as you came for the 2nd? 3rd? time.

Here comes the fourth...

Gods Satoru loved it when you looked mad. Like one of those angry birds or something stupid cute like that..

You were panting. "Can you hurry up and cum?"

Gojo shrugged. "Tired? I would help but... I can't touch you remember?" He held up his hands, wrists now bound together by his blindfold because you didn't want him pawing at your tits or slapping your ass. (He was able to do both at least once.. and it was great!)

You began to move again. Literally turning him into a slip n slid with how much of your cum and slick pooled on his lower abdomen.

Heaven.. that's where he was..

Gojo was slightly panting as you rolled your hips. Cock twitching from how your walls gripped him, sucking him in like you actually wanted him.

But he wasn't going to tell you how good you were making him feel. It just wasn't in natural for the type of relationship you both shared.

"You really suck at this. I bet Suguru cheats when he goes on missions."

"Gods, shut up." Your nails dug in deeper and he hissed. Almost losing his focus then and there.

"Your pussy game is weak Kiwi.. I'm falling asleep over here."

He didn't mean all that.. He was actually dying on the inside. Struggling to keep himself from painting your walls white. He wanted to savor this moment you both were having together. There was no doubt you wouldn't end up pregnant today, he was Gojo Satoru after all. He never had to do anything twice! -- always getting everything he's ever tried right on the first attempt.

He felt his body twitch and his bound hands begging to be free.. The fabric of his blindfold ready to tear with one tug.

He needed to calm down.

He thought of everything and anything. Naked grandma? She bought him a few seconds. Yaga in a G-string covered in baby oil? Disgusting!-- but hey, it helped.

You rolled your hips again. You had given up on bouncing on his dick and just kept him deep inside. Electrifying pleasure shooting throughout his whole body with every roll of your--

"Shit! What did you do?" He wasn't going to last much longer. Pussy had him already seeing double. His back was already arching off the table.

You were riding him with everything you had. Fucking him like you hated him and only needed him for his cock. (Kind of true..?)

He made the mistake of opening his fucked out eyes to fully look at you..

Your eyes closed and your head thrown back. Tits bouncing with every little twitch your body made..The way you bit your lip to try and keep your moans to yourself.

The wet sounds of your pussy milking him made his mind feral.

Fuck it. You can yell at him later.

With a yelp you were suddenly thrown on your back with your knees to your chest.

This position had Satoru bullying himself deeper inside of you, you couldn't hold your sounds in anymore. Nails digging into his skin as he started fuckin you at a brutal pace and constantly hitting that sweet spot that had you seeing stars.

"Oh fuck, Your eyes are rolling back. You like it Kiwi?"

Did you? You hated yourself in this moment because you actually did. Maybe it was just your fucked out brain speaking but he felt so good against you. His body was sticky but warm and soft despite how hard his whole body was, his breath and small kisses tickled the skin of your neck when he buried himself in it.

You tried pushing him away, this all seemed too intimate. But your wrist were yanked above your head, his lips ghosting over your's.

"Just one, all I want is one."

You couldn't argue right now. Your lips met his in a messy kiss. Teeth clanking, tongues swirling, and spit leaking out. His movements became sloppy, that rough rhythm had turned into a grinding twitch.

One, two, three pumps in and his body was shaking on top of yours. Warmth filled your stomach as those messy kisses turned lazy. You tried to move your head away, but somehow Satoru had snuck his hand into your hair. You couldn't move, and you were too tired to fight it.

You spoke only when he finally pulled away and almost folded you in half.

"Gojo, what the hell? Put my legs down!"

He caught his breath and smiled. "nu uh. We need to keep your hips up so my kids can find your eggs. You have premium spermies inside you right now Kiwi. Women would start wars just for a drop! We can't waste it!"

You gave him a deadpanned look but he was sort of right? You didn't want to do this again if you didn't have to. (Maybe)

Gojo clicked his tongue. "So. You come here often?"

You snorted and tried to get comfortable. The metal table and uncomfortable position was making your shoulders hurt. "I hope the kids eyes don't glow in the dark like yours. It's creepy.."

Gojo opened his mouth.

"With how strong Satoru's genes are. They probably resemble him more. Let's just hope they have your personality Y/n."

You jumped at the new voice. Low and a little hurt..

Suguru stood at the door with his arms folded. He gave you both a closed eyed smile. "Surprise. I came back early."

..........................

[shizunitis]

Luo Binghe & Tianlang-Jun: Origins. And a Bit of Projection.

Disclaimer: This is basically just a collection of quotes from The Scum Villain's Self-Saving System, Volume 3, accompanied by (adjective) thoughts, and then even more relevant quotes listed at the end. If I could, I’d paste the entirety of Chapter 18.

“As expected, I can’t bring myself to hate humans.” — Vol. 3, Chapter 21: Always Together

I will always be conflicted on the topic of Tianlang-jun, and it annoys me. There is so much I could say about him, and so little I can successfully articulate. He is, to me, more confounding, complex and tragic than Shen Jiu.

He’s pitiful and awe-inspiring, wicked and affable, cunning and wide-eyed in his curiousity. He is a compelling, heartbreaking character. He alternates between emotionless wisdom and mournful apathy. I admire how his knees don’t buckle under the weight of his grief, but how he crumbles at the barest hint of hope. How rage claws at him and, still, he can’t figure out how to make it stick.

I empathise with him. I understand him.

But then, in the distance, Luo Binghe's indifferent voice disturbs the silence, causing me to drop my drink onto the floor and this post onto your screen:

“He’s not my father.”

It’s an interesting exercise, exploring their relationship in reconciliation fics. To see them interact (semi-)honestly, watch them take turns filling up the chasm between them. It’s wonderful. Every fic I’ve read centred around them was a delightful read that I still think about.

However. I cannot see Tianlang-Jun, as I understand him, as Luo Binghe’s father. And not just because of the 3rd Novel’s events.

But because Binghe had hoped for something; he did have that wide-eyed wonder. He did hold one last window open, for the sake of an improbability he couldn’t quite, just yet, dismiss.

It’s what (most) orphaned and/or adopted childred do.

Though Luo Binghe had never said a word about it before, Shen Qingqiu knew that he harbored some fantasies about his birth parents. […] In fact, he’d always secretly fantasized about whether his parents might still be alive, and how well they’d treat him, and how they’d never let him suffer the mildest slight. — Vol. 3, Chapter 17: Tianlang

It is the most human thing; to want to be helped, accepted, invited by those given to you. A family is given to you. Whether you believe it an act of the divine, of nature, of coincidence, it isn’t something you fight for. It’s the first and, arguably, only thing you don’t have to fight for in life.

Depending on a multitude of factors, that can be a blessing or a curse; but where there is room for interpretation, questions left unanswered, most childred—Binghe included—will turn to their imagination, and try to make sense of it. Usually, to comfort themselves, to reassure themselves that surely, if their family could, they would have.

And, yeah. Most likely, if the Palace Master had gotten punted into the Sun like he fucking deserved, they would have. But does it matter?

In the face of a bleak reality, what comfort is a could-have-been?

He liked to call Luo Binghe “that son of mine,” but he didn’t seem to possess any concept of fatherly affection. […] Luo Binghe was in fact…someone who was unloved by even his own parents. — Vol. 3, Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

What use are good intentions to an abandoned child? What consolation is it, to say, They gave birth to you, when that child has seen no evidence of their care? Does it dry their tears, that their mother can’t be here, but she surely would have wished to be? That their father would protect them, if only he knew of them?

(And don’t make me tell you about the visceral horror I felt reading the Origins chapter. I’ve yet to make my peace with it. MXTX, Airplane, whoever: you’ve ruined me.)

The washerwoman was and continues to be, to Binghe, his only mother. And I would argue, that’s healthy. Even independent of his other traumas (Abyss, Shizun’s betrayal, Xin Mo’s influence, living on the streets, etc, holy shit Binghe) Luo Binghe will not accept anyone else as his mother.

“Who is this Su Xiyan?” Luo Binghe asked coldly. “My mother was a mere washerwoman.” — Vol. 3, Chapter 18: Origins.

It may seem callous. It probably even is! But it is a healthy line he’d drawn by his own initiative. It’s what helps him, what he feels he needs to do in order to do right by his mother, and his own heart.

And! Tianlang-Jun doesn’t seem to give much of a shit, either!

Won’t, probably, even in the future, once the dust will have settled. He is exhausted, weary with carrying the corpse of his love, the loss of his nephew. Whatever goodwill he shows, it’s a perfunctory sort, because he can’t afford more.

So. Uhh.

Tianlang-Jun is not a character I can love, nor one I can hate. Usually, I can’t help but be inclined to love complex characters. Like them, too—though that’s more of an action-based thing rather than just said character’s personality.

But with Tianlang-Jun, I’m stuck whichever way I turn. If I want to love/like him, I’m drawn back by Binghe’s pain and disappointment. If I try to hate/dislike him, I’m drawn back by his own history and grief.

In conclusion:

I don't know! I'm not really trying to, like, prove anything. I still love the aforementioned TLJ & LBH fics, I still love their dynamic. I started walking and ended up exactly in the same space. This, perhaps, could be considered a Heavenly Demon Family Mobius Strip!

I'm not really trying to say anything. It just… makes me feel conflicted, and angry, and whenever I allow myself to think about it a bit more, sad.

But.

However!

Alas.

Nonetheless, even.

As a reader and—on my better days—a writer, all I can say is:

As promised/threatened: some selected passages, for your reading pleasure:

So, it looked like neither the father nor the cousin had any intention of acknowledging Luo Binghe. — Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

He liked to call Luo Binghe “that son of mine,” but he didn’t seem to possess any concept of fatherly affection. — Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

Tianlang-Jun lifted his hand, took a look at Luo Binghe’s snow-pale face, and commented indifferently, “He looks like his mother.” “His eyes look like yours,” came a chill voice from the side. — Chapter 15: Holy Mausoleum

The faint hopes and dreams Luo Binghe had held in his heart for many years had been mercilessly pulverized into so much dust. […] [Tianlang-Jun] refused to speak a single word of their relationship and had been utterly ruthless back in the Holy Mausoleum. […] To his parents, Luo Binghe was an unwanted child. — Chapter 18: Origins

“If he was my father, why didn’t he bring it up earlier? Why not tell me?” The most Tianlang-Jun had said was that single line he offered while beating up Luo Binghe, devoid of either praise or criticism: “He looks like his mother.” He looks like his mother. What of it? But that was all. There was nothing more. — Chapter 18: Origins

Luo Binghe was indifferent. “He’s not my father.” […] Luo Binghe shook his head. It was unclear what he was stubbornly clinging to, but he repeated, “He’s not my father.” — Chapter 18: Origins

Luo Binghe raised his smiling face, his eyes shining brightly. “Mother was the kindest person in all the world to me.” — Chapter 19: Shen Jiu

[f2e5b1]

bitter orange — okkotsu yūta [1/3]

pairings. okkotsu yūta + f! reader/original character (main); past!orimito rika + f!reader; past!okkotsu yūta + orimito rika warnings/themes. mentions of death, jealousy, hints of obsession and possession. just a lil dark romance practice (which is barely any dark romance tbh who am i kidding) sprinkled with food motifs but i dont know what im doing im just here for the vibes :P mostly sfw with nsfw themes but nothing sexual bc im too scared to go down that dark path (also no use of y/n bc i started writing with an original name and it unfortunately stuck lawl... can be treated as either or it doesnt matter tbh i cant write anything outside of 2nd person anwyay) word count. 2.8k words nothing too crazy xd playlist. knuckle velvet by ethel cain; velvet ring by big thief; pure by cigarettes after sex; only in the dreams by the marias; be my mistake by the 1975; mary by alex g

it’s been a long time since i have seen my beloved. the moss has grown on that abetachibana tree

PART ONE: ichigo daifuku

Gojō Satoru tells you that love is the most twisted curse of them all.

He had said it in passing after your first solo mission, right as you were entering the car back to Jujutsu Tech before talking your ear off with his lame jokes. The mission had consisted of exorcizing a curse that had persistently haunted an abandoned apartment complex in Omotesandō, assigned to you by the higher-ups in accordance with your newly promoted rank as a Grade 2 sorcerer, having decided that a Grade 1 was doable enough for someone of your caliber. The curse itself wasn’t anything special, though, only repeating gargled confessions of its love to some ‘Chiyo-chan’—whoever she was—the whole time you were dodging its attacks, which was incredibly annoying. You liked your battles in silence, quick and succinct, but curses make that difficult to achieve.

Gojō muses it could have been a past lover, this Chiyo-chan—its love for her having cursed itself. You didn’t really care. If you keep up the good work, complete your required missions and get another recommendation, you could be ranked a Semi-Grade 1 by your second year, then a Grade 1 by your third and nothing else after that because unless you were someone like Gojō Satoru, then you are capped forever at Grade 1.

“So anyway—snacks you like?” said sorcerer asks, finally done with his previous tale. Something about an old coworker. “Mochi, senbei, or taiyaki? Personally, I'm a mochi ice cream type of guy!”

You look at him.

“Why are you here again?”

“... Is your memory that small, Ume? I was proctoring you,” he tuts, mouth turned downwards. “Congrats on the promotion, by the way.”

You shrug. “Ichigo daifuku is good, I guess.”

He smiles, wryly.

“You’re joking, right?”

+

The building facing your childhood home had been home to Orimito Rika, an unsuspecting property with a decent front yard and the occasional street cat or two often shooed away by her irate grandmother. “Mean granny,” you’d often call her, the insult drowned out by your hushed giggles as you played with your dolls. Rika wouldn’t say anything about it, wouldn’t dare verbally agree with you, but she would always nod her head down, the corners of her lips turned up too high.

You didn’t particularly hate the old woman, but there was a certain kind of satisfaction to saying it behind her back after all the times you’ve caught her looking at her granddaughter in unbridled scorn, your own little form of revenge. You could never understand how her only remaining family could look at her like that, not when Rika was so beautiful and kind; like the cherry blossoms during spring, falling gently along with the wind. Sure, she could be a little cunning at times, and none of the other kids at school liked her because “something’s odd about her, can’t you just hang out with us instead?”—but that’s what makes her interesting, right?

Rika isn’t weird, she’s pretty, and you’re the bee drawn to her. She’s only older than you by a year, ten instead of nine, but she always played with you, taught you how to make flower crowns at the park, and when you walked home from school she’d always hold your hand. Her smile is blindingly bright, the sound of her voice a song you couldn’t stop listening to. Selfishly, you wish it would always be the two of you together; playing with your dolls, walking home with your hands intertwined.

But when she came back from the hospital, so did Okkotsu Yūta.

You could never see what she saw in him; he was short and just a little bit pathetic, always trailing after her like a lost puppy at first. You could push him off the swing and he'd move on with a sniffle, the kind to give up the plastic shovel even though he desperately needed it to finish his sand castle because he didn’t want to fight a girl. He smiled shyly and hid his hands behind his back, looking at you like he was looking for your approval. Of course, you never gave him the time of day, because it felt like he had stolen Rika—your Rika. It was supposed to be just you and her, but that wasn’t the case anymore. Now there was Okkotsu Yūta, who held Rika’s other hand after school, who took away her attention from you so easily.

“He’s so cute, isn’t he?” she asks often, a light blush dusting her face.

“I guess,” is your reply.

“Ne,” she calls, presenting to you a small, black box. You look at it in apprehension, wincing when she eventually opens it. “What do you think of this ring? It was my mom’s. I’m gonna give this to Yūta-kun, do you think he’ll like it?”

The ring was immensely simple, a silver-colored band with a small diamond in front, glinting under the light. Nevermind the fact that it was too big for a child’s fingers to fit in, Rika presented it to you as if it held all the answers to the world. Although her parents were dead, and she had definitely stolen it from her grandmother’s dresser, the ring spoke full of promise. When she takes it out of the box and lets you inspect it, it feels heavy.

“... You really like him, don’t you, Rika-chan?” you ask, quietly.

Rika looks at the stupid piece of jewelry, painfully smitten.

“Mhm,” she affirms. “I really like Yūta-kun. I want to be with him forever! Of course, I like you too, Ume-chan. You and Yūta-kun are my favorite people in the world!”

You close the box, handing it back to her. When Rika looks at you expectantly, you realize then that you could never bring yourself to take that happiness away from her.

+

The koinobori flies.

“It’s so pretty!” Rika exclaims, eyes wide and staring up at the sky where the huge, windsock carp moves around. It’s bathed in all sorts of colors—from red to blue to white to green—dancing along the azure expanse in commemoration of Children’s Day. The weather is just right, not too hot nor too cold, and the wind caresses your skin gently, the sun not too harsh. It makes the color of Rika’s hair shine in all the right ways, adds more sparkle in her already bright eyes. She’s wearing a yellow sundress, a nice change from her usual blue one. The cream-colored hat you let her borrow covers her face with the shade, but her smile remains bright and blinding. She looks pretty.

She gives you all of her ichigo daifuku, and shares Yūta’s snacks. She doesn’t even like chimaki.

“Are you sure, Rika-chan?” you ask, looking at the two sweets in your hands.

She beams. “You like them, don’t you?”

You keep them with you until the end of the event.

The day passes by incredibly fast, your little trio having exhausted yourselves from running around the park alongside the other children. Yūta chases Rika around the park, and you watch them squeal and laugh at each other and hold hands. You watch them take a nap under the shade, their pinkies intertwined, and you watch as the ugly color of green blinds your eyesight. You leave them be.

Sometimes, you wish you’re the colorful koinobori flying in the sky. You’d let Rika hold on to you, let her fly and hear her amused laugh as the wind tickles her skin. Sometimes, you wish Yūta slapped the ring away from her hands when she handed it to him. Wish he stomped it on the ground and at the same time stomped on her heart. Wish he didn’t take it with a huge smile and agree that he’d marry her when they get older; he’s not the one who’d wait long lines just to get her the best ichigo daifuku, not the one who’d jump at the other kids when they so much as think of insulting her, and he won’t be the one who’d choose to stay with her when she’s all gray and old cause he’s a boy, and boys would never do that.

Sometimes, you wish he never liked her at all—because he never deserved her in the first place.

Okkotsu Yūta could never love Orimito Rika like you.

+

He sits beside you at lunch.

Rika’s been bedridden for the whole week, which subsequently ruins your week. Yūta doesn’t seem to mind her absence all that much since he doesn’t see her a lot during classes anyway, but they’re supposed to be engaged. He should always be thinking of her, should be acting as miserable as you even at the unripe age of nine. He looks too okay with her absence when he shouldn’t be.

“What’s this?” you ask, pointing at the small bag of snacks he had placed on the cover of your bento.

“Hm?” he looks up. “Oh, it’s norimaki senbei.”

“... And?” you prod.

He tilts his head. “You don’t want it?”

“... I don’t want it.”

He looks at you thoughtfully.

“But you like them, don’t you?” he asks though he’s acting like he already knows, like you’ll take it regardless of what you say. It’s annoying.

You look at the seaweed-wrapped rice crackers—the stupid norimaki senbei—in mild contempt. “Why are you giving it to me?”

Yūta’s smile is small, knowing. “Because you don’t like sweets.”

You frown.

+

She’s a sweet girl.

You think of Orimoto Rika like that because it’s true—she smiles sweetly, she speaks sweetly, and she likes sweet things. She tells you that her favorite snack is ichigo daifuku, the very same confection you always begged your parents to buy for you just so you could share them with her. It pays off all the time because then she’d look as sweet as the daifuku itself, her cheeks as red as the fruit within it. She also likes hanami dango, but she doesn’t like the green part because she doesn’t really like the subtle taste of yomogi, so you eat the rest for her because she doesn’t want to waste it. She likes cold tea instead of hot, sweet instead of savory, like yuzu iced tea or bubbly ramune in comparison to the nutty taste of hōjicha. When you go to the store, she always gets the kompeitō with some random anime character on the packaging because those were the “cutest kind of kompeitō,” and Rika likes cute things.

She also likes the color pink, but when you ask her what her favorite color is she’d say it’s blue. It’s blue not because she wears that blue dress all the time, but blue because it’s the color of Okkotsu Yūta’s eyes, bright and round and always looking at her. Rika likes it that way—she likes how Okkotsu Yūta is always looking at her with his blue eyes, unwavering and full of adoration for her and her only.

You think Orimito Rika is a sweet girl, but sometimes she’s more than that. Sometimes, when the other kids get brave enough to drag you away from her, tell you to stop hanging out with her, they say it’s because Rika doesn’t like anyone else but Okkotsu Yūta.

Sometimes, when they tell you that, you wonder if Rika liked you at all, way before Okkotsu Yūta came into the picture.

But most of the time, you don’t really care. Even if Rika didn’t like you, you’d still like her. Even if she’d only have her eyes set on Okkotsu Yūta with his stupid blue eyes and his stupid norimaki senbei and stupid chimaki that he shared with her on the fifth of May, you’d still like her because she’s Rika—beautiful, kind, and wonderful Rika.

She has things she doesn’t like, too, such as other people but never Yūta-kun or Ume-chan! She likes it when people compliment her and praise her looks and give her free stuff like ramune or ichigo daifuku or Sailor Moon-themed kompeitō from the store, but sometimes she tells you that she dislikes this certain group of girls from Yūta’s class, dislikes the boy assigned as your seatmate, her homeroom teacher, the “weird” guy who works at the konbini a street over, and dislikes it even more when her grandmother looks at her and tells her she killed her own father without even saying anything at all.

You know all those things because you know Orimito Rika. You like her even if she holds intense dislike for the people outside her circle, people who tick her off just a little for you to see her smile crack at the edges and go stiff, the little twitch of her brown eyes, and most importantly, you still like her when all she wants in the world is the attention of the boy who wears her deceased mother’s ring.

You’ll always want sweet girls like her.

+

“Where’s Rika-chan?”

“Her grandma won’t let her go out today,” Yūta says, sitting next to you on the bench. “So it’s just you and me.”

He says it dejectedly, but it’s not enough for you. If he was really sad, then he’d be as sad as you are, so you start packing your belongings. “I’m leaving, then.”

He startles, standing up. “Huh? W–wait! Don’t leave just yet!”

“But Rika-chan’s not here,” you frown. “There’s no point in hanging out today.”

He falters, looking down at the ground.

“Even if she isn’t here, we can still play together…” he offers, looking up at you timidly. “We’re friends, too, aren’t we?”

The green-eyed monster stares at the silver chain wrapped around his neck, the ring acting as its pendant tucked underneath his shirt—like an unattainable treasure trapped inside a chest with the key thrown away somewhere you cannot find it. We’re not friends, the monster says with a snarl, stay away from me.

If there is one thing you know, then it’s that you have never wanted to be friends with Okkotsu Yūta, not after he took everything from you. He can butter you up by sticking to you during class and sitting next to you at lunch and even offering you some of his not-ichigo daifuku, not-yuzu iced tea, and not-colorful anime-themed kompeitō but you will and have never liked him for the green-eyed monster will always sit on your shoulder so long as he wears that ring on his person, a physical manifestation of his promise with Rika. Your Rika, even if that’s not really the case.

You will never like Okkotsu Yūta, because—because he—

“... What’re we even gonna do?” you ask, slowly.

He immediately brightens up.

“… Wanna get ice cream?” he offers. “There’s a new flavor I wanna try!”

His suggestion does not entice you at all, but when he stands there with an outstretched hand waiting for you to take it, like it’ll matter if you reject him, you find yourself at a crossroads. But you make your decision soon enough. Like it’ll matter, like the green-eyed monster isn’t there, staring.

“Okay,” you say, moving past him to start walking. He blinks incredulously at the blatant rejection before gathering himself and following after you, a prep to his step regardless of your actions.

You try to ignore the warmth of his body next to yours.

He’s too close.

+

“Yūta-kun’s birthday is in a few days,” Rika announces, lying on your spare futon. “Did you get him anything?”

You didn’t. “... Yeah.”

“Really? What is it?” she cranes her neck to face you. “What’d you get him?”

She doesn’t want your gift being better than hers, it checks out. “Um… just a toy. A garbage truck.”

“Oh, okay,” she turns back to face the ceiling. “I made him a scrapbook with photos of us. I worked really hard on it… do you think he’ll like it?”

“He’ll like anything you give him.”

She’s already given him a ring—what else could compare to that?

Rika smiles. “I guess… you’re right.”

Soon enough, she goes to sleep, breathing softly beside you as your fan fills the silence of the night. You continue staring at the ceiling, making out the little dents despite the lack of light. You squeeze the hand that holds your under the cover, before closing your eyes.

You hear her softly breathe on a steady beat alongside the fan whirring in the corner, and you close your eyes, squeezing her hand tighter underneath the covers of your too-close futon.

You’ll have to ask your parents for some money tomorrow.

+

“Rika-chan isn’t here again,” Yūta says dejectedly. “Her granny’s too strict.”

“She hates her,” you say quietly.

Yūta looks at you, confused. “What’d you say?”

“Nothing. Your birthday’s coming up soon, what are you doing that day?”

“Uwah—you remember?”

“Rika-chan told me.”

“Oh, well,” he smiles sheepishly, “we have school that day, but after that I’ll be celebrating at my house. I’m thinking of just inviting Rika-chan and you over… um, so, will you come?”

“I’ll go if Rika-chan is going.”

He blinks, before a smile blooms on his face. “Okay! I’ll see you, then.”

+

It happens when you aren't there.

It never should have happened at all.

Orimito Rika is pronounced dead at the age of eleven, her body unrecognizable under the heavy weight of a blue truck.

next

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

sneak peek on the itachi and shisui one pls pls that sounds so intriguing 😩

k y'all i don't know how to do sneak peeks, so this is literally the start of the story, like our girl befriending itachi and meeting shisui. something's wrong w me, i'm too longwinded.

anyway, this is the original request - thank you so much to this person, whoever you are, you beautiful mind. death and angst to come, but for now, enjoy the fluff and smidge of tension, i suppose.

"Thinking about an Uchiha love triangle with Shisui and Itachi. Neither of them got to confess to the girl when they were still kids (also given how things played out for Shisui and Itachi….…) What if Shisui asked Itachi to keep her safe as one final wish? And that years after, she and Itachi ended up accidentally reconnecting. With him as an Akatsuki and her being assigned to investigate them and their whereabouts? What if after all these years, he’s always kept Shisui’s promise? That he’s always been her shadow??? That his feelings for her never faded????? HhhhhH Djdjdncn I’m definitely not a writer but I’m imagining angst. So much angst."

Masterlist💿

Loving From Afar

Pairing: Uchiha Itachi x f!Reader x Uchiha Shisui

Summary: A little brainwashed by public opinion, our reader is extremely stand-offish when faced with an Uchiha. Itachi changes that, and then had to deal with our reader being nicer to Shisui than she was to him in the beginning.

W/c: 5.3k (IM SO SORRY)

Warnings: Reader's a nervous puker, talk of throwing up but not particularly detailedly, kids flirting with kids (it's all rated G, dw), brief kids bullying kids, Itachi trying to overshadow his cousin

Ages: Itachi - 6 in the first n second bits, 7 in the third | Y/n - 7 in the first n second bits, 8 in the third | Shisui - 9 in the third

Notes: lmk if y'all fuck with this, if y'all hate this, what you would change, add, keep, throw away - just let me know!!!!

You wished you hadn't been so quick to assume the opinion of your parents, in your younger years. 

Your father, a Jonin, terribly wounded by the attack of the Nine Tails, cursed the Uchiha, whom he was certain were behind the carnage. Though a housewife, your mother steadfastly stood by his opinion, spitting on the once noble name with her husband. Like most of the village, you listened to those who seemed to know best.

They were evil, so evil that even the farmers on the countryside called the Uchiha a Family of Red Devils. Your thoughts were rightfully in accordance with the general public opinion - but it seemed you were one of the few sensible children at the Academy.

"Isn't he dreamy?" Yuna sighed, staring at Itachi over her sandwich.

"Totally," Mio agreed. She didn't even pretend to eat, like Yuna. Mio just stared at Itachi unabashedly, with her elbow propped on her knee and head in hand. "None of the boys in our year have muscles like his."

"Do you think he likes girls with-"

"Who cares what he likes?" You snapped, swallowing a mouthful of white rice. Mio and Yuna both turned their heads painfully slow, looking at you like you had just committed the highest treason. Indignant, you scoffed, quoting your parents, "He's an Uchiha - they're all reprobates, all rotten, vile people, and the more rotten and vile they are, the more powerful, and dangerous, they become. They come in two flavours only; weak or awful, and this one skipped a year, so he's not weak."

Neither Mio nor Yuna were able to come up with a quick enough reply. They just looked at you, and each other, opening and closing their mouths like stupid fish. Relishing the silence, you ate the last bite from your bento box, and threw it back into your bag.

When you looked back at your friends, their eyes were back on Itachi. You rolled your eyes, finally sparing Itachi a glance as you as you asked, "What can he be doing that is so... interesting."

Well, he was staring at you. 

Your group, at least, you figured. Staring-staring, blatantly. His dinner-plate-sized, pitch black eyes stood so starkly against the pristine whites of his eyes and the pale glow of his face. You'd never seen such large eyes before in your life.

It scared the daylight out of you.

"What a creep!" You exclaimed, pulling at your bag over your shoulder and running back into the Academy building, right into Daikoku-Sensei's classroom to hide. He was your favourite instructor, and you were, by far, his favourite student.

Surely, Daikoku would protect your peace and let you spend a little while in his classroom before class.

He greeted you quite jovially, halfway through his own lunch and grading papers. Daikoku let you pull up a chair to his desk, just listening to you yammer about the most trivial things in the world as he marked the pages before him with a red pen.

However, your peace was disturbed again, too soon after it was restored. A knock came and Daikoku called them to enter.

"What a pleasant surprise! My two most gifted students, come to visit," your sensei said warmly once the door opened. 

Intrigued, and a little jealous, you turned your head. Ugh. 

"Come, pull up a chair, we weren't talking about anything important."

"I was just leaving actually," you interjected, collecting your bag from the floor beside you.

But, of course, Daikoku knew you were lying. He chuckled, "No, you were about to tell me about making a new dye for-"

"No, I wasn't," you snipped, standing up quickly. Despite him standing behind you, you could feel Itachi's eyes on you, trying to strip you down to your bare soul.

"Where can you possibly need to go, ten- nine minutes before my class starts?"

Itachi's eyes tickled your skin, searing through. But you kept your calm, trying still to not be rude. You just stammered, "Er... the- the library. I, er, have an over-due book, that I have to, y'know, give back."

Tucking your bag close to your body, you breezed past Itachi, who let you go without a word. You tried not to look at his eyes, having heard the horror stories, but they were just so big, and they were glued to you. Wide and unmoving, as if he were restraining himself greatly, and waging an internal battle.

He freaked you out.

To your core, Itachi unnerved you. Like all of the Uchiha.

It was bad enough that he had been moved up to your year because of his accomplishments, but you never had to interact with him before. You still hadn't, not properly, and, as you scurried away from Daikoku's classroom, you noticed that you were shaking like a leaf. 

The unease travelled to your stomach, and made your mouth fill with saliva.

As quickly as your legs would carry you, you ran down the hall and out the back doors of the school.

You were just in time, kneeling into a bush and pulling your hair back, just as you began to throw up. Hot tears welled into your eyes, but you didn't make a sound as you gagged.

You could hear the doors swinging open again as you heaved into the bush, but you were far too occupied to care.

"Cor lummy - I didn't know you hated me this much."

Great. Yeah, perfect. Just what you wanted.

"Leave me al-" 

Another wave took over your body, cutting off your command and taking every bit of authority out of it.

Much to your dismay, at the time, Itachi came behind you. With fingertips as gentle as feathers, he collected the loose strands of your hair, bringing it back properly and sliding your impromptu ponytail out of your hand.

You wanted to swear at him, yell at him to stop touching your hair, but you couldn't - you just kept throwing up.

After another wave, Itachi's hand came to the center of your back. You could feel a warm tingle were his hand was, and it almost seemed to tingle at the only frequency that could stop the vibrations in your stomach.

"Are... are you okay?" He asked in a unbefittingly soft voice as he stroked small circles into your back.

"No, go away," you snapped, head still in the bush.

Itachi just stated, his hand stilling, "I'm not going to leave you... not if you're not okay."

Coming out of the bush, you sat on the pavement and looked up at Itachi as he stood from his crouch. Your hair fluttered back to your shoulders, feeling strangely warmed, and almost dirty. Your mother and father would have been incensed if they had seen what just happened, so you knew you had to be as well.

"Why?"

"Because," Itachi hummed as he sat in front of you. "I want to show you that I'm not rotten, or vile, or weak, or awful, or that one strange word you used."

"I... I didn't..." He was making it so hard to stay true to your parents' word. You felt guilty to have repeated it. "I know you're not weak."

"And I'm trying to show you I'm none of the other things either."

They said there wasn't a good Uchiha to ever touch grass, but here the good one sat before you. He may have just been trying to prove his worth, but he did, somewhat, no matter how forced his action could have been.

"Thanks," you finally said, still so unsure.

"Do you want to be friends?"

You were wildly taken aback, and your parents late-night tirades flashed through your mind. Scampering to your feet at the speed of sound, you took up your bag, not caring about the pin that fell off in your hasty movement.

In response to Itachi's kindness, you ran.

Back into the Academy you went, finding the nearest girls' washroom to camp. You stayed for fifteen minutes, making yourself late for Daikoku's class intentionally. 

When you arrived, you were woeful to find out that Itachi's wide-eyed stare had suddenly changed.

He glared at you now, and you wished for anything but. 

Itachi's sharp eyes ripped your skin off, just to examine the many layers at their own leisure. You felt as through he was piercing through your soul, cutting it like cloth, with his plain, black eyes alone. Quick as you came, you tried to leave.

"No, I have to-"

"Y/n, you just got here-"

As your sensei stood in front of the door, blocking your only exit, you dove for the trashcan beside him.

It was stupid to think that you had gotten whatever was bugging you out earlier, because it wasn't like you ate some bad clams. You had captured Uchiha Itachi's attention, and you were sick to your stomach.

Tossed in the gutter, you and your reputation became worthless. People used to like you, but once you became the Nervous Puker, people started to steer clear.

Whatever. It gave you a certain freedom you had never had before, not restricted to plans or anyone else's schedule.

The moniker was nasty in the first week of your naming, but you slowly stopped hearing it as people stopped talking to you. You assumed they probably still called you that, but you weren't bothered by it, because it was never staring you in the face.

Meandering the edge of the recess-yard, you stared out at the adults, ninja and civilians alike. They milled around, going about their business in various directions and ways. Some held cases, where others had bags strapped to their backs - the ones with the briefcases styled their hair much more nicely than the others, and you admired one blond man's perfect quaff as he walked past the Academy.

You couldn't wait to get out of the prison that was the Academy, and you forced yourself to make all the progress you could, as quickly as you could. The instructors loved you and gave you top marks, the work was simple, but that only supported your theory that the Academy was only stagnating you. Though, what use was a seven year old on the battlefield?

"Hey! NP!" One of the boys from your year called behind you, making you turn your head in acknowledgement. He laughed, "It's good to see you're used to your new name."

"It's just as good to see you're not eating," his friend commented, barely containing his laughter. "Don't want to put any fuel in the tank!"

Pursing your lips, you just nodded as they cried out with laughter, and turned your head back toward the passing people. Their taunts did little to bother you, so you weren't going to pay them any mind.

That was apparently the wrong thing to do, as a hand gripped your shoulder, throwing you around before you were pushed, back against the chain-link fence. The two boys jeered at you, both pinning your shoulders to the fence as it rattled with your attempts to move.

"Where are you trying to go? Feeling a bit nervous?" The blond boy snickered.

To add, his brunet friend sneered, "We'd better clear the splash zone."

Like a flash, your saviour appeared. You never got the chance to ask him what it was that spurred him to act, but you were always thankful for that decision of Itachi's.

"You two have nothing better to do?"

Their holds instantly relaxed as Itachi's eyes darted between them. You stared at him, confused, but undoubtedly grateful for his intervention. Anxiously, the two boys turned to Itachi. They were both taller than him, but Itachi's mere presence dwarfed them.

"We were just-"

"I don't care, stop bothering my friend."

Hey, you weren't going to poke a hole in that now. 

Itachi was saving you, scooping you up like the hand of a god, being the only person who could realistically stop the teasing, other than Father Time. 

When the wave swelled, you knew you had to ride it as far as it could take you. No gift-horses' mouths were getting looked into by you.

"Dude, you can't be serious," the brunet almost chuckled. "You, friends with the Nervy Puker? Puh-lease."

In an instant, Itachi's eyes swirled, turning from the, regularly unnerving, inky black to a bloody, Ruby red. The sickness came to your stomach immediately, and you looked away from the scene as best you could, scared in every respect.

"Call her that again at your own personal risk."

Yeah, you were going to throw up again. His voice... good, gracious Creator. You'd never heard such a sternness. Such authority. Especially not out of some six year old.

Because he wasn't some six year old. He was an Uchiha.

Just like it had a little over two weeks ago, your mouth began to fill with saliva. You swallowed it furiously, but the more you swallowed, the more came up. Heat travelled through your body, carried by the deep vibrations that pained you dully. In your attempt to stop the feeling, you hadn't even noticed the two boys running off, nor Itachi's eyes returning to their normal hue.

"Look at me."

You swallowed again and looked up. Itachi looked at you like he had a few weeks before, wide-eyed, as something you couldn't name flickered behind his pupils.

"We should go around back again, if you're feeling... unwell," he offered, voice restrained but still kind. Swallowing and clearing your throat, you shook your head, finding it hard to speak. To your surprise, Itachi came forward, stuttering, "I- er, the other day, when you... ran, I-I picked this up, for you. Y'know, so I could, like, give it back."

"Where did all your confidence go?" You teased, feeling greatly eased by his sudden nerves. You sank to the ground while leaning against the fence, arms wrapped around your stomach.

After looking at you strangely for a second, rifling through his pockets, Itachi let a small, straight-faced chuckle pass through him as he replied, "It seems to leave me when I speak to you."

"That's a real troublesome problem between friends."

Itachi's eyes lit up. "You... friends?"

"Isn't that what you said to Jiyuna?"

"Yeah," Itachi grinned, sitting next to you on the fence as he pulled your pin out of his pocket finally. "But... I thought... why'd you run, then?"

Without any good answer yet, you just shrugged and admitted, "You scare me."

As Itachi extended the pin to you, you held out your hand, and he pressed it right into the center, letting his touch linger. His eyes twinkled in a way that somewhat invited you, and his smile wasn't obnoxious or arrogant. Your parents were wrong, you realized then. You also realized you had never seen Itachi smile before, not even a little.

"So, friend, comrade, associate," Itachi started happily, moving his hand to point at the pin in yours. "Tell me about The Ballads of the Green Cloth, and convince me to get a matching pin."

From that day, onward, you and Itachi were as thick as thieves. The people who stopped talking to you tried to start again, attempting to get into Itachi's Good Books through you. It didn't work. Itachi hated them to an extreme, and the people who had actively teased you, even more. He steered you away from all of them, offering you some of the best company in the world; himself, alone.

After every school day, Itachi began to invite you places. He would take you to the library, to his favourite spot on the creek, to the confectionary just off the main road. With your parents under the impression that you were attending extracurricular classes, you had two or three hours every day to spend with Itachi, completely unadulterated.

Gradually, over a year of spending the afternoons together, you and Itachi had built a steady rotation of places to go. The cycle started at the confectionary, with another nine places on the roster regularly (ten in the Summer). It wasn't set in stone, but you quickly came to find out that Itachi only ran on schedules.

"It's pissing down rain right now, Itachi," you pointed out, motioning to the massive window beside you, that the two of you sat on the ledge of. "Let's just stay in the library today, the creek will be flooded."

"It's creek day, though," Itachi countered.

You groaned, pressing your forehead to the cold glass, "I know, but it's not the day to go to the creek."

"What are you talking about? Yes, it is, we went to the stationary store yesterday."

"I've been meaning to ask you about that; why do we keep going there if you never buy anything? My pen purchases can only support us for so long - they're going to stop being to happy to see us."

"Why would I need to buy something, if you buy a pen every time?"

"My man! I buy the pens because you don't buy anything!"

Laughing lowly, Itachi took the honeysuckle juice that you had made in your kunoichi class that day from your hand and sipped it greedily. You grumbled something about how absolutely gluttonous he was, which only made Itachi laugh louder. The sound of his laughter hit your ear very kindly, cracking your resolve, and making you smile almost instantly. You bit it back, snatching the half-full container from him.

"You are so rich, and yet, you never pay for your own stuff."

"Well, duh, how else do you think I stay rich?" Itachi joked, laughter calming, developing a blush. You giggled, but his face got a bit serious, and he captured your eyes. Gently, a tad regretfully, Itachi asked, "Should I... should I be... paying for you? Like, your stuff?"

For some reason, his tone spoke to your heart, setting it ablaze. Your breath caught in your throat, feeling a tight pinch in the center of your chest. Goosebumps rose on your skin, cascading down your spine, and back, up, all the way up to the top of your head. A chill settled just underneath your skin, destined to never be warmed, save by one thing.

Perhaps it was the cold glass beside you, withstanding a particularly strong sheet of rain.

"No," you whispered. 

Blinking a few times, the tension was cut, and you repeated, shaking your head and looking out the window, 

"No, no. You shouldn't." Swallowing thickly, you chuckled, "You're younger than me anyway, I have more birthday money saved."

"Pretty girls like you shouldn't ever pay for themselves - Itachi, you idiot."

If it weren't for the slight shred to the other's voice, you would have thought Itachi had spoken.

But the voice was inherently not Itachi's, the melody was missing; the colloquialism replaced by a certain type of suave charm.

Your suspicions were confirmed as you looked at the window's glass and saw the reflection of someone on the ground. He was looking up, between you and Itachi, as your friend motioned to him, trying to be discreet. Making you feel even more confident in your deduction, the standing boy looked extremely similar to Itachi. His nose, and general facial shape, seemed a bit rounder, more soft than Itachi, with much shorter hair. And he definitely looked older.

It dawned on you that you were in the presence of another Uchiha, and the fear bloomed within you - it was quickly squashed by a heavy-set guilt for feeling that fear at all.

The guilt just made your stomach feel even worse.

It was as if your mind was on open display to Itachi as he immediately uncrossed his legs, coming closer and putting a hand on your knee as he hissed at the other boy, "Shisui, go away, now. I'll see you later."

"Why? What's wrong?" He, Shisui, asked, sounding so genuinely concerned that it just made you feel guiltier.

"Nothing. Bye. Go away."

"No, not if she's not okay."

Through the window, you watched the reflection of Itachi carrying out a silent fight with Shisui.

You just closed your eyes.

You were mortified. Itachi was so kind, and, here you were, getting all frightened over one of his family members, and then being the cause of his rudeness. If it was his father, you might have been justified in your fear, but another kid? Get serious.

"Look at me."

You did, remarking Itachi's eyes gleaming in the honey-shaded light of the library. A warm comfort overpowered all of your other emotions, wrapping you up tightly. It brought air to your lungs, in a deeper breath that you maintain to have ever been your deepest.

Itachi smiled gently, taking your hand into his and finding the perfect middle of your wrist. He rubbed small firm circles onto the pressure point.

"Do you want to go get an ice-pop, or something?"

"Popsicle," you corrected with a breath.

Chuckling lowly, Itachi nodded, "Whatever. Let's get one."

"Sounds tasty, can I come?" Shisui interrupted.

You froze at the other boy's voice and took a deep breath as Itachi gauged your reaction briefly. Immediately, he geared up to send Shisui on a long walk of a short pier. But, when you looked at Shisui, the words seemed to die on Itachi's tongue.

Nodding slowly, you found you couldn't speak. Well, you probably could have, but it would have sounded like a croak, and you didn't want that.

To your surprise, Shisui smiled broadly. Extending his hand to you, like Itachi always did to help you off of the ledge, Shisui beamed, "Great. I know a lovely, little place to get some really good fruit ice-po-psicles."

"We have our own designated spot, thank you very much," Itachi replied for you, smacking away Shisui's hand just before you were ready to take it.

He jumped off the ledge and extended his hand to you, providing a much more usual sight. You smiled as you took Itachi's hand, jumping close to him as he put his hand around your back as a precaution. Leaning close to Itachi's ear, you brushed his long hair back with your index finger as you whispered, "Maybe we should go to his place, so we don't disrupt the sanctitude of ours."

Gritting his teeth, Itachi leaned into your ear and whispered back, "I don't want him to come at all."

"Why?" You asked in a hush, lips brushing Itachi's ear again.

Dramatically sighing, Itachi bent his knees back and looked at you with narrowed eyes before leaning back into your ear to whisper, "You're going to like him more than me."

"Not very likely, but let's see," you giggled, not bothering to lower your voice. You looked to Shisui behind Itachi's shoulder, and he grinned at you, obviously feeling left out. Gathering up your courage, on Itachi's good word, you finally said to Shisui, "Itachi never mentioned an older brother."

"Ugh, are you calling me ugly, Ms. Nervy?" Shisui joked.

The nickname made your eye twitch, but that was nothing compared to the force Itachi turned around with, turning you with him.

"Don't you dare-"

"Shhh," you hushed, hoping to put Itachi off being even ruder to his uninformed family member.

"We're in the back of the library, and it's a Tuesday," Itachi snapped at you, before setting his fiery gaze back on Shisui who you couldn't see. Resuming a threatening tone, though even lower, thus quieter, Itachi hissed, "If you call her anything like that again, you and I are going to have a bigger issue than you can even fathom."

Sounding taken aback, Shisui said to you, as sweetly as his raspy voice would allow, "My deepest apologies, I should have known your guard dog can't take a joke."

"You know what-"

"Hey," you said gently, letting go of Itachi's hand. His hand on your back lingered a moment longer, but dropped as you approached Shisui. You smiled up at the older boy, remarking how sweetly his eyes shone, giggling lightly as you said, "You're a lot taller than I thought you were, up on the ledge."

"I suppose it's all about perspective, darling," he hummed, that suave voice from before returning. Flickering his eyes to Itachi behind you, Shisui chortled, "Is that one okay, or are you going to threaten me?"

You thought it was more than okay. No one had ever called you darling, except for your mother. Especially not so... lovingly? Of course, Itachi felt a different way. Coming from behind, Itachi tugged at your waist to get to you move around Shisui. You did and Itachi followed you, Shisui folding in behind him.

Once your group made it outside, you were left to your own umbrella, while the boys shared Itachi's. Apparently, Shisui wasn't much for planning.

As the two debated between where to go to get a popsicle, you let yourself get used to Shisui's voice. You quickly discovered they were cousins, but were much closer than any set you had ever seen. Shisui was a year older than you, and two years older than Itachi, which made you wonder if Itachi's voice would soon turn to be like Shisui's on day. Truly, his cadence lacked all the melody that Itachi's had a surplus of. Shisui spoke more loosely, and never went very long without a joke or a little quip. Even their scents were markedly different, as Itachi smelled like herbs and spices, whereas Shisui smelled of harsh soap. You came to know Itachi to be a member of the main family, while Shisui was a part of the branch family.

"Together, or separate?" The shopkeeper of Shisui's spot asked as the three of you put your chosen popsicles on the counter.

"Together," Shisui said quickly, getting out his wallet. 

Itachi noticed, and got out his wallet as well, readying himself to beat Shisui to the money dish. Within your pocket, you collected 70 yen from your own wallet.

"That'll come up to..." The shopkeeper started, typing on his dated machine as it clicked and zipped. "68 yen."

You were first.

Smiling, oh, so very smugly, you looked at the boys as the shopkeeper took your bills from the dish with a soft chuckle.

"You two," he said, pointing at Shisui and Itachi as he gave you your change. "Ought to be paying for this sweetheart."

"Yeah," Shisui said pointedly, capturing your eyes before his smile returned. "If this sweetheart would let us pay for her, that is."

"I hear you, brother," the shopkeeper grinned, pushing the popsicles at you. The three of you took them up as the shopkeeper continued, "I've got a feisty one, too, back at home. They make the most wonderful wives, if either of you ever prove so lucky."

"They won't!" You exclaimed with a bubbly laugh, feeling embarrassed.

Maybe the shopkeeper would cause Itachi to recognize the signs of infatuation you displayed, and then he wouldn't want to be your friend anymore, and nothing scared you more. Not even your previous conceptions about the Uchiha.

"Oh, yeah?" The shopkeeper challenged you.

"Mhm."

The boys were strangely quiet, just staring at you. Maybe that was them seeing through your lie, so you decided to add,

"Honest! I like blonds."

"Blonds, hm?" He asked. You nodded with a soft smile on your face, praying that Itachi couldn't see through it. As if a test, the shopkeeper told you, "My son's a blond. Golden blond."

"Get me in contact with him," you laughed.

Before you could continue to dig yourself into the hole of your creation, Itachi put his hand on your shoulder, squeezing, though not strongly enough to hurt. You looked to him, and were met with that god-forsaken, wide-eyed stare.

Itachi needed to only look at you for a second before he kissed his teeth and relaxed his eyes, throwing his arm over you as he guided you out of the shop. Shisui gave the shopkeeper his thanks for the sale, and darted in front of you and Itachi, holding the door open for the two of you to squeeze through.

"Thank you," you and Itachi chorused in mumbles at the same time, before looking at each other and dissolving into a short laugh.

As you undid your umbrella, Itachi gave his umbrella to Shisui, staying by your side. The three of you began to walk slowly, down one of the back roads, Shisui with his own umbrella, you and Itachi sharing. You held it steadily for the two of you, only flopping a bit with the bounce of footsteps.

"I would dye my hair, if you would like it more," he asserted once at a comfortable pace, holding his popsicle to his chest to pop it out of the wrapping. Itachi moved to hold the stick as you took the end of his wrapping, holding it as he pulled it out. He looked at the cherry popsicle and gestured, asking, "Does it need to be blond, or can I do something cool, like red?"

Blushing, and leaning into his arm, you ducked your head down and laughed, "Platinum blond."

"I would look terrible, but if it's what you like..." Itachi replied, helping you with the wrapping of your popsicle before opening his palm for his wrapper in your hand. You gave it to him, and he shoved the wrappers in his pocket, giving you a smile as they crinkled.

Sighing contently, you and Itachi began to eat the popsicles. Your steps synchronized, and soon the bounces of your shoulders did as well.

"You two are cute," Shisui murmured behind you.  Itachi's head swiveled sharply and the elder cousin snickered, "I rescind that; one of you."

"Oh, you're such a charmer, Shisui," Itachi derided. He was, you thought. But leave it to Itachi to know what you were thinking. Shaking your shoulder a bit, Itachi leaned into your ear and whispered, "Don't fall victim, I'm your friend."

"You're my best friend, Itachi," you said loudly, grinning ear to ear as you swapped your popsicle for his. You licked his and he licked yours, and you both hummed,

"I like yours better."

Laughing again, you both shrugged and continued eating the other's popsicle. Shisui, no doubt feeling a bit left out again, came up beside you on the street and you angled yourself toward him, though Itachi's arm remained on your shoulders. You looked at Shisui as he gave Itachi a very playfully taunting look.

"This is what you two do?" He asked, making Itachi quirk his brow. Shisui motioned at his own popsicle, then the rainy day. "Get treats, and flirt, while walking around?"

Caught, your face screwed up. You didn't know where the line of obvious flirting was, and Shisui could tell you were interested in Itachi... so why couldn't Itachi?

"We're not flirting!" Itachi exclaimed, defended himself, his honour, his family's honour- "Yuck, don't say stuff like that, Shisui, that's so gross."

Oh. Okay. 

You distinctly remembered that pain for the rest of your life. It was like a knife, impossibly sharp, and quite unforgiving. 

For a year and change, you'd been using your small crush on Itachi to help with that overwhelming fear - you convinced yourself that he could have a crush on you too, and if that were true, then he really wouldn't hurt you. You would be safe.

But he didn't. Obviously, he didn't. Why would he?

Cripes, you didn't even feel like throwing up. Just crying.

"Hey," you mumbled, drawing Itachi's attention like a magnet. You looked at him, biting your tongue, as he looked at you with a tentative smile, worry in his eyes. Worry about what? Shaking your head, you got a grip, and half-smiled as you said, "I have to go."

"What?" He asked, smile dropping.

"Mum's making a nice dinner, so I have to go help," you explained, not exactly lying. Itachi nodded, opening his mouth to say something, but closed it just as soon. He moved to join Shisui's umbrella, and you grinned to the older cousin, "It was lovely to meet you, Shisui."

"And you, as well," he hummed. Shisui's smile was broad as he winked, "I hope we meet again, maybe do some flirting of our own."

In response to Shisui's kindness, you nodded, and ran away.

[skullvgirl]

a strange dream | barou

incl. barou 🎀 ( he would kill me )

warnings. completely sfw, fluff, school!au, fem reader, very much ooc, slow burn

an's. i missed him so much i had to revisit

BAROU probably hasnt got any interest in you before your relationship, not in a bad way but lets be honest—he's a soccer addict, he definitely wouldn't notice you until well, he did.

you're both sitting in math class (which did i mention had one hell of alot of students) and someone from the other side of the room asks to pass a note to you, rumor has it they've got a crush.

eventually the note ends up in the large hands of Barou Shouei and he's of course expected to pass it along to you but doesn't see anyone ahead of him expecting to receive it from him. he's confused—who the hell was yn ?

its his bad—he really wasnt to familiar with anything not soccer related.

he looked around, then finally decided to give the piece of paper back to the person he got it from—whoever that was.

you look at barou confused, so the paper was for you? you had originally gave it too him because you weren't sure if the people mumbling in the back of the classroom were really talking about you or not.

you opened your mouth to whisper-yell at him, but he wasn't paying attention to you anymore, his eyes trained on the teacher once again.

you uncrumpled the paper, trying to be as quiet as possible in the dead silence, but with no luck.

"yn?!"

shit

"yes miss?", you hid the paper under the desk, trying not to make eye contact with the 28 other students that had eyes on you.

"care to share with the class whats so important that you need to be passing notes in my class?"

fuck

reason #1 why you really hated this class, your math teacher was a fucking bitch.

'mean girl giggles' echoed throughout the room, barous eyes paying special attention to what you were about to do.

you dreaded the feeling of being forced to stand up in front of the entire class and read aloud whatever was written on the small note.

"get to it missy"

oh fuck off

you looked around the classroom trying to assess anyone who may have been distressed or embarrassed but with no luck, everyone seemed to be waiting on you.

weird...

"im serious yn. if you dont start reading in the next 10 seconds im going to—"

"no, no thats okay—i-im reading"

for whoever wrote me this, i am so sorry.

you cleared you throat in preparation for the humiliation you were about to face, curses be upon you miss peterson.

"hi, i think your really cute, we should go out sometime together, from..."

your heart stopped.

oh no this cant be right

"thats it."

"thats it?" the teacher probed, slowly making her way towards you.

"that it. i-it just says from your secret admirer after that nothing else".

your math teacher narrowed her eyes, looking closely at your expression—she didn't buy it.

dont breakeyecontactdont break eye contactdont breakeyecontactdontbreakeyecontactdontbreakeyecontact—

"really..."

"really!" you broke eye contact.

she pointed her nose upwards, probably as high as possible and began walking towards your desk.

"alright then i wanna see it, i need to have it confiscated"

"what?!, why?" oops you said that kinda loud. the class whom had previously lost interest when you finished reading turned back towards you and miss peterson now intrigued.

"well why not?! it was a distraction in class and now it needs to be taken away to make sure it wont be a distraction again...!"

but that doesn't make sense, if you care so much about us passing notes you should take our notebooks not the gosh dang note !

"but that doesn't make sense—" but you didn't get a chance to finish as the teacher viciously snatched the paper from you and spun around back towards her desk.

you sat down and burried your hands in your face, you couldn't watch this.

"oh this looks fun...says it's from barou shouei, not what i was expecting...not what i was expecting at all..."

fucking kill yourself, PLEASE

the class, which had previously been dormant erupted in a series of raging giggles and screams—shocked at the reveal of who the note was from.

a soccer player.

it was no secret in BLLK High that nobody—under any circumstance—was to mess with a soccer player. they had a bit of a reputation going on. even the nice ones.

" 'cuse me?" a commanding and masculine voice emerged from your left side and you turned as quickly as possible to the over 6 foot ( 182 cm ) tall man trying to explain yourself.

fuck, one day you were seriously gonna kill your math teacher.

"no, no no i promise it's not like that—i seriously don't know who made this i promise it wasn't from me and i know it wasn't from you—"

"you're yn ?" he cut you off smoothly, leaning back in his seat ever so slightly.

"huh?"

his knees were facing yours now. "you're yn right? been wondering who that was for the longest, guess i know now, cool."

"huh?"

okay now you were confused—about multiple things actually. #1, barou shouei, the man you'd been sitting next to for almost a full year now had yet to learn your name untill just now which is—gosh, just outrageous even for a soccer player

and #2 he wasn't toltally angry and going to kill you like everyone said he would have, should you make a fool of him?

no seriously someone explain what was happening.

you didnt get a chance to ponder on your thoughts much longer however, the bell rang loudly in your ear and soon everyone including yourself was making way for the door out the classroom.

what the fuck just happened, what the actual fuck just happened.

"heyy ! yn over here !" you didnt realize it but you apparently had auto-piloted your way all the way through lunch and was now being called over by people you've never talked to a day in your life—and you knew exactly what it would be about.

could this get any worse

you were about to find out. "yes...?" you asked, tray still in hand while you stood awakwardly by the trash can near the lunch table who called you over.

"soo—wait first sit down, we're friends we're friends, sit down first" one of the girls said, patting a seat next to herself eagerly.

you looked at the eyes on you and quickly made a decision to move.

there definitely here to ask me about him. it can't be that bad right? i think her name is ashley? i don't know maybe this'll be fun, maybe they'll be nice.

"so have you guys had sex?"

"what?! no—"

"have you guys even ever kissed yet?"

"no—"

"we used to talk you know", this one was from ashley, a pretty blonde haired girl who's blue eyes sparkled like marbles.

"really?"

she was attractive that for sure but and you could definitely see why some people would wanna date her but barou? not so much.

"really"

like in what world would some super macho super mysterious soccer guy get the hots for some popular pretty blonde girl? not to mention an obnoxious pretty blonde girl.

gosh i sound like a pick me right now, who knows maybe they really did talk

"didn't even know her name" barou said, cracking his neck from side to side.

"seriously man?" asked isagi, popping a fry in his mouth.

"dead serious"

this was the soccer table, a table where only the best of best players would sit for lunch, not that it was official or anything—but new students were warned not to go near The Table anyway.

"so you did ask yn to prom?"

"no bachira, i didn't ask her how many times to i have to say that, i barely know her anyways"

"untill today" kunigami confirmed.

"until today" barou repeated.

"would you though?" chigiri asked, he glanced over at your table—you were pretty that much was obvious but it was barou we're talking about, who knows what he thought of you.

"nah, couldn't."

"why not? shes not ugly" nagi questioned albeit a bit insensitively.

"shes not but..." he trailed off, stringing his eyes from nagi to you, she looks kinda...

"but what"

"i don't want her thinking we're dating after prom or somethin', gotta focus on the game."

"what if i did then, think she'd say yes?" it was reo speaking now who was now also looking at your table.

"nah, your uncanny resemblance to a donkey might turn her off"

The Table laughed as reo scowled at the other players, he didnt find it very funny.

"shut the fuck up shouei, i didn't hear her accepting your undying love now did i?"

"thats because i never really asked her dipshit"

"your point! still better than knowing your rejected as a default"

"is it though?" barou was almost smiling at the purple headed boy.

"oh really? watch me"

the table made boyish "ooo"-ing sounds and reo stood up confidently.

shouts erupted from the table, causing the whole cafeteria to turn towards the players, they payed them no mind however, only staring intently at where reo was walking.

"look, look, look! one if them is coming over here right now!"

"really?!"

you whipped your head around towards where the whole cafeteria's attention had been directed.

nononon, this cannot be happening. you seriously did not need another soccer players thinking you were some freak weirdo because someone else wanted to be messy!

"thats reo, he's super fucking rich, i heard he has a whole two backyards !"

"and an a theater room!"

great, and it was a rich snob kid too.

"does yn sit here?"

your table said nothing, even the loud ashley kept quiet while he was talking. everyones heads turned to you, waiting expectantly for you to say something.

"yeah thats me..." you said meekley.

reo smiled and curled his finger towards himself a few times, asking you to come to him.

this is so awakward

you stood up silently and walked over to where reo was. he didn't stop directing him towards you until you were standing right up against him, close enough to where he could grab your jaw and yank your ear towards his mouth.

"you're hot, go out with me"

your eyes bludged, and your heart accelerated way more than it should have. that was NOT what you were expecting.

reo let go of your face, his hands were in his pockets as he waited for your answer, he looked confident tou would say yes. and most people would, but this was a soccer player we were talking about—and this one specifically was known for being super rich, super smart and a super hoe. three things you couldn't be bothered to even try giving a chance with.

you glanced behind him trying to peer at the damage that had been done.

holy shit the whole fuking cafeteria is looking

"so?"

you were snapped back into reality as reo looked at you, still waiting for an answer. it was pretty obvious what you were going to say.

"no. im sorry but no, i hardly know you and you're really not my type, sorry."

your table made all types of noises as they watched the now humiliated boy bite a scowl and walk back too his table.

you quickly sat back down and watched as The Table made fun of reo's rejection. all the players were laughing but you were only looking at one.

"said i wasn't her type". The Table erupted in laughter, all the players except reo cackling like animals.

"fucking told you so, at least get to know the girl before you start trying to hit on her" isagi joked, slapping reo on the back repeatedly.

"no for real, dont know what made you think she would fall for you in a day, not all girls are so easy you know" kunigami shook his head.

"what did you say too her anyways?" nagi asked now curious as to what got him such a harsh rejection anyways.

"didn't say nothing, js asked her if she wanted to go out, said no, that's it." reo reiterated bitterly.

"knowing him it was probably something like 'youre hot, lets go out'" barou said offhandedly, distracted by the feeling of eyes on him.

"you could hear?" reo asked, now confused.

The Table went silent for a moment and isagi burst out laughing when he realized what reo had just said.

"so you did really say that?!"

the emmbarassment for reo only cotinued further but barou wasn't paying attention to that. the eyes from before were still on him.

it was you.

cute...

BAROU isnt really much of a romantic either, he hasn't got the headspace for it like he does for soccer, so of course—he's not seeking the love. the love is seeking him.

1 week later

you sat quietly in the school library studying like a madman for finals, it was just near the end of the school year and you were determined to get good marks on all of the subjects.

the library was the most perfect and quiet place to relax and work at the same time—without any distractions or problems to bother you from your job.

"excuse me?"

you glanced up to where the voice was coming from and your heart felt like it was going to explode.

it was none other than barou shouei in the flesh.

a whole week, a whole week you had managed to somewhat avoid his presence and pretty much ignore him during math ( your teacher denied you request to switch spots ) it was going fine untill—well, now.

"can i borrow your computer charger? mine just died and a left mine at home"

that was it?

you didn't really know what to expect from the man though. he was known to be pretty brutal on tbe field maybe you were assuming he'd be the same in real life.

although i guess i shouldn't think that considering how chill he was over the fake confession and all of that...

"oh yeah sure, I uh can let your borrow it no problem"

"thanks"

barou took your charger without another word and walked back over too his seat.

the racing in your heart was begining to subside, that wasn't so bad...

you shifted to get comfortable in your seat and began studying once again, right now where was i...

"excuse me?"

and just as you were getting comfortable. barou shoei again.

"yes?"

"sorry im back so soon but, could i sit here for a little bit. the outlet by my table isnt working for some reason" he said it in a polite tone but seemed eager for an answer, he was probably in a rush to get as much study time in before practice like most athletes were.

he really isnt as scary as i thought he'd be...

"yeah of course that's fine, it's better this way anyway, wont forget you had it in the first place ya know" you smiled moving your belongings over to make room for his.

"thanks"

barou set his things down and soon enough a static silence ensued over the both of you, not that you minded though. you still needed to get work done and it was better he wasn't attempting to make conversation with you. it is a bit awkward though...

"you color coded your pens"

the voice that emmited from the other side of the table almost made you forget who was there.

"i did, why?"

"nice, i did too"

barou didnt wait for an answer, but instead pulled out a all black pencil pouch to reveal all seven colors of the rainbow line up in order.

jeez, i just think it looks cool, his has all the pen hooks facing up too, ocd much?

that wasn't the main point though, what was more important was his sticker—on thst rested sturdy on his bag. "you watch graves anatomy too?"

he looked surprised when you mentioned the show, and nodded his head appropriately. "yeah, and im all caught up too, all 22 seasons and counting."

"holy hell, im only on season 12 how to even time for that—aren't you always having games and stuff, scince your on varsity and all..."

barou quirked an eyebrow, "mm you know your stuff—i make it work"

now it was your turn to make a face "you make it work...really, its that easy?"

no. the absurbant amount of school work i have is fucking killing me right now plus i've got sisters too take care of so no, it's definitely not easy

thats not what he said though.

"yup, real easy." he nodded his head and although you didn't buy it, it was hardly your place to nag. he didn't seem like someone you should nag.

"uh huh.." you shook your head up and down slow and repeatedly, "for sure, for sure"

"what you don't believe me?" barou moved his chair closer to yours, so close in fact you think your knees were touching, his arms bulged as he rested his hands on his head ; it was hot nice seeing him in a position that wasn't so straight .

"no i do, you seem really responsible im sure you're great at 'making it work' " you put a thumbs up.

gosh, could you be anymore awakward...

"oh im responsible ? you would know that im responsible?" barou questioned, leaning even closer on his arms towards you.

is he...flirting with me?

you laughed and covered your mouth with your hand leaning slightly away as he got closer.

"i mean yeah" you paused to swipe away the nonexistent dust from your eyes, you just couldn't hold the eye contact.

come on, dont get shy now yn.

"people talk, i guess."

"do they?"

"they do" you nodded your head firmly up and down, since it was the only thing you were sure you could do at the moment.

"mh"

mmh?!? the fuck does that mean ??

"so yn i wanna ask you a question" barou leaned back as he said this, finally returning to his normal position.

holy shit my heart was beating so fast, somebody get me on a stretcher and to the hospital NEOW, i am about to blow!

"yeah?"

barou stayed silent for a few moments, thinking deeply about what he was going to say.

"hypothetically..." he paused, staring directly at you.

"hypothetically..." you confirmed.

"hypothetically if someone, other than reo from the soccer team—just as an example lets say...yoichi ! remember hypothetically speaking—asked you out on a date what would your answer be?"

huh?

"what kind of question is that?"

"a hypothetical one" he said matter of factly.

"a hypothetical one, right, well if—hypothetically of course—i was asked out by isagi, om a date that is...i don't know...yeah? I guess i'd day yes?"

"really, you would?" he looked surprised and you suddenly felt alarmed, was that a bad thing or something??

"yeah? i mean no, not really—maybe not if he asked the way your friend did..."

"mhm"

??? again, what does that mean?

A moment of silence passed between the two of you and you tried and failed at going back to the work you were supposed to be doing in the first place.

"what about chigiri?" he said suddenly.

"chigiri? what do you me—"

"chigiri. pretty, has red hair, plays on varsity and is super fast? chigiri. would you say yes too him?"

"i mean, maybe, yeah he's definitely not ugly and i guess if i knew him well enough I would probably say yes—why are you asking me this?"

barou said nothing and suddenly, the strangest thing began to happen—he looked at you smiling—a large, uncanny smile resembling a creepypasta monster formed from on his face, your heart began to beat but for the wrong reasons.

"wake up yn" it was definitely barou's voice but it sounded far.

"huh?" you couldn't move, and you now realize you probably couldn't move for a while.

what...is happening...

"wake. up."

your head shot up from your arms, ans you looked around disorientedly.

oh...

up untill about the last 30 seconds you were a bit disappointed it had to end. your dream that is.

"yn", a voice—much deeper than you recall im your fantasies spoke out to you as you felt a tap on your shoulder.

it was barou. the real barou.

"i baroued your charged?" he said holding it out towards you. (an's. IM HALARIOUS LAMOSJKWIS)

"oh. right sorry, thanks." you took the cord from him. but he didn't leave, still looming over you in his tall stature he spoke again.

"uh, you got a little.." he pointed to the corner of his lip, scratching at it in expectation for you to do the same.

you did, softly at first, not really sure what is it he was implying but quickly realized what he meant after you felt a crusty dry substance still left from your unconscious.

oh..

oh !

"ive got drool on my face haven't i" he nodded his head, and you swore you saw grin appear on his face—a real one but he turned and walked away before you could make confirm.

"thanks for the charger yn, see ya later"

his back was facing you now, slowly getting smaller and smaller at he walked away from you.

seriously ! could i be anyless embarrassing for even a second!

im afraid not yn.

because according to barou, he thinks your little moments of embarrassment and humiliation were pretty damn cute.

BAROU is never scared. he hardly ever get worried, he's king and one of the best players in his school, he's top of his class always and struggles—never. so why? why was it now, over some so trivial that he was all thoes things he never gets all at once?

1 week later, in the classroom.

barou felt weird.

the truth is, he didnt need a partner for the social studies project. his teacher was allowing groups of two or singles all the same. his reasoning behind why he wanted a partner is what was scaring him.

after almost an entire year, barou realized that you not only were in his math class, but his social studies as well. and his history, and biology—even his orchestra ( he plays cello in case you were wondering ).

he realized that you were everywhere.

barou, for the first time was recognizing someome else, not on the team, not an adult, but a girl, he was acknowledging a girl, as more than nothing.

it was weird.

"yn."

you peered up at him, wide-eyed and adorable. "work with me on the project"

your eyes, (e/c) and beautiful, got impossibly larger.

"yeah—uh—sure we can"

he gave a thumbs up, and went back to his seat.

what am i doing?

"i dont know, maybe we can exchange numbers instead?"

"yeah thats better, since im hardly on social media anyways"

even though you've got so many followers..

"alright cool"

you and barou were in the library, again. instead of dreaming about his muscles however, you were watching them in real time move for your phone and yours the same.

there wasnt mych said after that, only short words to communicate what part of the project you both were supposed to work on, untill...

"yn?"

"yes" and once again, you were looking at him, wife eyed and adorable.

"i've got a question to ask you"

no way, did i fall asleep again?

you sucked in a breath, and pinched your cheeks, not paying any attention to the words that might come out of his mouth.

"ow!" nope, you were definitely awake.

barou raised an eyebrow and couldn't hold himself in. he burst out laughing and you we're glad the library waw empty, because in all his seriousness—barou's laugh was loud. like the sort of thing you'd been holding in for a while.

"what yn, afraid you're gonna fall asleep again?"

your cheeks heated up an intense amount.

"no..."

"you're funny you know, really funny"

"huh?!" you squeaked, shifting all over in your chair. "what does that mean"

barou leaned in close to your face, so close that your noses were touching.

"it means..." he tilted hid head sidewards, waiting for your permission.

"i think you're the stupidest most adorable person to exist..." you didn't move away.

and like a shock, barous lips were on yours so softly it made it feel very much like a dream, but it wasn't.

an's. i know this is not himmm, he wouldn't even look at you after a supposed fake letter i knooow, i couldn't think of a better way to force it ( i was lazy ) and he's cute let me live.

an's. i rushed the end i knoww, leave me alone. i like writing for personal enjoyment shhhhhh.

[old-school-butch]

What do they think Hamas wants? What do they think Israel is supposed to do? Do they seriously think Israel is supposed to be like sure here you go we are all going to leave Israel and you can have everything? Do they think that would bring about peace? I’m serious. Like really do they think there is anything Israel could do that would stop any of this? Do they think Israel should’ve done nothing and this situation would’ve just disappeared? Americans are the dumbest fucking people on the planet. Hamas wants compliance or death, that’s how terrorism works, that’s war.

Whoever is running the information warfare at Hamas is truly brilliant. The ideology of Islamists has been run through some kind of autotuner so it sounds like it came from a chapter in Pedagogy of the Oppressed and Western liberals are eating it up. While liberals are still catching up on which river and which sea the chant refers to, they still don't grasp that the end goal here is the elimination of the state of Israel entirely. And while 20% of Israelis are Arab Muslims, there are zero Jews in Gaza. The PR people are saying Zionist these days instead of Jews, so maybe it doesn't sound too bad when they say Kill All Zionists but that's just the English translation. Zionism is the creation of a Jewish state. Hamas will call it the 'Zionist entity' because they don't recognize it as a state. They don't recognize it because all states should be Muslim. Israel is occupying territory that should be Muslim. When they say 'end the occupation' it sounds like a call for liberation of an oppressed people, instead of the desire to destroy Israel, kill or expel the Jews and create a Muslim state in its place.

Yemen's Houthi rebels (who are currently attacking Israel) have a slogan "God is the Greatest, Death to America, Death to Israel, A Curse Upon the Jews, Victory to Islam" and I think it says a lot that they take the time to double down on how much they hate Jews/Israel instead of a single 'Houthis are great!' thrown into their own slogan.

The Islamists have noted the 'anti-colonial' rhetoric in Western universities and capitalized on it by positioning Israel as a proxy for the West and thus a scapegoat for the West's sins of imperialism. It does rely on some very old anti-Semitic tricks - because Jews assimilate fairly well (because they don't have an evangelical aspect to the faith) they are both within a culture and othered from the culture - the perfect scapegoat. Many liberals shrugged when the Nazis marching in Charlottesville chanted "Jews will not replace us" but the suspicion that Jews control the media, capitalism, also socialism, Hollywood (and any other center of power you can imagine) runs very deep in Western cultural anxiety. Imagining Israel as a prowerful villian is all too easy when you're primed to believe that.

A wild example of this is how Westerners view Israel as a colonialist power rather than a gathering point for religious refugees. The reality that Jews originated from the land of JUDEA should not be hard to grasp, but is conveniently ignored. The fact that they've negotiated with colonial powers like Britain and the UN is viewed as a sign of political power, even though the main goal of those colonial powers was to prevent Jewish refugees from flooding their own countries. And the memory that the post WW2 boost in political heft came at the price of the Holocaust in Europe, seems to have been lost. The reality that most Israelis are Jewish refugees expelled from Muslim countries, is conveniently ignored. There are enough white faces and dual citizens in Israel for guilty Westerners to find a convenient scapegoat to do all that decolonizing and let themselves be destroyed for our sins. Not that anyone is thinking that hard about it, it just feels right, because it's safe and convenient to accept blame and then shift it to someone else - no matter how many land acknowledgements they crank out.

I guess Westerners think colonizing is something only white people do, and they are blissfully unaware of the size and scope of the Arab Islamic Empires of the past. And also apparently unaware that Islamists explicitly say they want to recreate that empire. Zionists want a single state - and I have a lot of issues with the idea of a religious state at all, but no one can accuse Jews of ever having or wanting to create an Empire. Israel might be criticized for not having a more liberal democractic state, but Hamas isn't even trying to create one. It wants a single Muslim state occupying their entire region, where Jews are killed or expelled and Islamists can consolidate regional power - that's their goal. But the slogan is 'end the occupation' which sounds way nicer than 'end the occupation of land of Israel by Jews so we can make an Islamic state in its place and kill all the Jews who don't run away fast enough.'

Maybe it's that most Westerners don't live in a theocracy, and have no sense of just how controlling and energetic theocratic societies can be, that they can't grasp the idea of global jihad and what that really means. "The Caliphate is the answer" is written in Arabic on protest signs, flying under the radar of English-speakers and certainly not seen as hate speech, but when people tell you they want to establish a global world order under Islamic rule, and are actively coordinating their efforts between states and regions - you should believe them. Moderation is apostasy, punishable by death. Anyone negotiating with Israel faces opposition from more radical Islamists ready to take their place. This is why Islamists spend most of their time attacking more moderate Islamic states and leaders. And by 'moderate' I mean the Taliban, which can barely set up a state in Afghanistan - because it means diverting resources from expanding and conquering other areas. A group called ISIS-K is trying to overturn the Taliban to bring back the glory days of the Khorason, an entity so sprawling it would involve invading China, Pakistan, Iran, Uzbekistan, Turkmenistan and Tajikistan, which would undoubtedly spark a global conflict. That doesn't phase them. Hamas can barely control the Palestinian Islamic Jihad, which rejects any peace accords with Israel including the Oslo accord. Dying as a martyr is the highest achivement - eternal war is not a problem. The Islamic world is failing to contain radical movements it created and supported for its own interests.

The Palestinians are a good microcosm of this. When Israel declared independence in 1948, the region was invaded by its neighbors. The war ended with Jordan occupying the West Bank and Egypt occupying Gaza and normally the people living there would have been absorbed into these countries, or created a self-governed state. Instead Palestinians, as a group, were created as a stateless people. They didn't want to form a state within the boundaries determined by the war, but instead remain as refugees from a war and promised the 'right of return' i.e. that Israel would be returned to them. Importantly, the war didn't have a declared end. It's still happening, which is how they are still refugees 75 years later. And they live in 'refugee camps', otherwise known as buildings and towns, but it's all temporary in this narrative. Does no one wonder why the pro-Palestinian rallies call for a ceasefire and not for peace? Peace is not desired, just a pause in fighting until they can regroup and try again.

A separate reality was created where the 1948 war is still happening, Israel is not real, it's a 'Zionist entity' occupying the land and that refugees includes everyone displaced by the 'ongoing' war, and all their descendants are refugees too because they have nowhere to live - because where they are living is just temporary. And ‘all they want is to go home’ (but not their current home for 3 generations, the home back in Israel ofc). In this world, they all have to right to live in the region that the zionist entity is occupying, where their duty is to establish a Muslim state. The purpose of this fiction is to create a perpetual problem for Israel, a stateless population whose entire existence is focused on them eventually overthrowing Israel. But it's had unexpected effects.

Palestinian refugees have been more than willing to bring violence to any country that has taken them in as immigrants. Their nationalists have a long list of assassinations of anyone who supports a peace treaty with Israel, including the King of Jordan, the former prime minister of Lebanon, Robert F Kennedy and more. They've also started a civil war in Jordan until they were expelled to Lebanon, where they hijacked a series of international flights and started a civil war there that lasted for 15 years. Palestinians living as refugees in Kuwait aided Saddam Hussein's invading army until they were expelled when his regime fell. These are the reasons none of Israel's neighbor's will accept any more Palestinian refugees, but the Islamist problem remains for any country in its path. What I have found most disturbing among feminists on Tumblr, however, is the complete wilful ignorance about Islamist ideology and its relationship to women. You think you’re ok with the Quran? Read it. There aren't many religions founded by a conqueror who wanted to rule the world. Read what it says about conquest, murder, torture, raping and enslaving non-Muslim women. Arab slave traders castrated men and bred female slaves who were kept as captive wives. Using sexual violence as a tool of war and as a reward for Islamic fighters is long documented and continues today. The birth rate in Gaza is about 5 children per woman and frequently exhorted to be higher. Why? Arafat said it most clearly ‘the womb of the Palestinian woman is the weapon that will defeat Israel.' Population and fertility are part of the political landscape and Islamist strategy. It's how Lebanon went from being a Christian majority country to a Muslim majority country today. There is no reason whatsoever that feminists - who have not shied away from criticizing the sexism of Christianity or Judaism - should mince words when it comes to criticizing Islam in the strongest possible terms. Islamists - who combine Islam with a goal for global dominance - should ring every alarm bell we have.

[wraith-caller]

This is the cloth garb:

It is worn by two player model characters and no enemies. Those characters are Devin(D, Beholder of Death), and the dead person we find by Darian(D, Hunter of the Dead). You can get the set from a chest in Murkwater Cave, and off a corpse in Leyndell.

The current item description is sparse, just mentioning it's a commonly worn item made of rough cloth. There is a hood that completes the set, which is a thorn-wrapped mantle, seen on the dead body by Darian. The item description explains that the hood is put on those who have committed lesser crimes.

HOWEVER...

In the 1.0 text, this set has a very different description:

Clothing made of coarse material. Garb of spurned Tarnished who were forced into slavery in the Lands Between. The Tarnished have been wandering into the Lands Between from beyond the Sea of Fog in dribs and drabs since times of old. Most are killed on arrival, but the few, unlucky survivors are taken as slaves.

Intriguing. Let's explore some things about that.

So first is this idea of Tarnished being made into slaves, which appears to have been done away. After all, the Tarnished we meet are all kinda doing their own thing, free to pledge allegiance to whoever, and some, like Gideon, hold such an esteemed position of authority so as to have a squad of goons at their disposal for casually massacring villages. The other piece of this description is still accurate enough - Tarnished are targeted by multiple factions, and treated like crap basically everywhere they go.

So let's hold on to the idea that Tarnished were enslaved. Devin's attire would mark him as one, which isn't all that surprising given he and his brother were pariahs among pariahs. We know the Golden Order was the only institution not to revile them, based on the Inseparable sword description. The JP text for that same sword gives a more interesting flavor to that text, saying:

The Undivided Twins served the Golden Rule for no other reason than because they were not branded as cursed.

This is interesting because it omits any references to taking solace in the Order. The "for no other reason" bit is also noteable. It carries an implication that the lack of persecution is the primary force driving them to serve the Order. It makes sense. If you were hated by everyone else, you'd go with the one group who took you no matter what else they're up to, and you'd fight tooth and nail for them to last. Otherwise, what's standing between you and being completely shunned and ostracized again?

If we're to continue on with the 1.0 text for the cloth garb and its references to Tarnished made slaves, Devin wearing that set gives a new context to the phrasing of "the undivided twins served the Golden Order." Could the twins have originally been intended to be slaves of the Order? Devin's location in combination with his potential status as a slave is noteworthy because, aside from the Misbegotten of Castle Morne, there is one other named group of slaves, and they have a heavy presence in Nokron. The Fallen Hawk Soldiers were a band of slaves who were ordered to search the Eternal Cities. They became lost there, condemned to remain below the earth after burning the bones of their fellows and discovering the ghost flame.

These guys aren't just in the same city as Devin. They are right by him, in the Siofra Aqueduct itself, just where Devin sleeps. There is also a golden centipede in Siofra River, beside a corpse which gives us the Inverted Hawk Heater Shield, used by Fallen Hawk Soldiers. While I don't intend to suggest that Devin is a part of the Fallen Hawks, I do find these tiny, potential connections interesting as shedding some light on potential routes a character's story could have gone.

[anime-lover-forever-1127]

Reasons I Hate Hayley

So people have been about some reasons to hate Hayley, so I made this:

Attitude. She kept going around acting like she as better than the Mikelsons - she wasn't - she wasn't better physically, financially, or intellectually. And the whole werewolves are "noble" and "strong" creatures, is complete BS.

they literally trigger there curse by killing someone - so their standing on sand in that moral ground

without witch intervention - their only deadly to vampires on full moons.

Killing. Her hands are just as bloody as anyone elses on the show, and she acts like she's completely innocent. Ex. Davina asked her to kill ONE witch, and Hayley decided she wanted to create another expression triangle.

Mother. Everyone treats her as if she was this standard for motherhood, when

she tried to kill her kid

She put the kid in danger multiple times during her pregnancy running into danger like an idiot - like why don't you drink some bear and smoke some pot on top of that - it would honestly do less damage than running around like an idiot.

I've done the math of when Caroline opens the school and Hayley sends Hope to boarding school and she literally did it as SOON as it opened! Like yeah, I'm going to send my kid who likely has a mountain of trauma alone over state lines.

Characters - They literally made other characters appear weak just so she could appear "badass".

Mikael, no, she can't take on the 1000 year old vampire that made the rest of the originals go running.

No, her enemies - hundred of years old vampire don't respect her - she ain't all that.

And NO, she's not someone Klaus fears, the only way she scares is him is his frightening sudden urge to get checked for supernatural STDs!

"Female empowerment" - She was supposed to be this strong female character who took charge, but she had no strong female qualities.

She was physically weak

relied on the mikaelsons for power, wealth, and housing

demanding and spoiled

relied on the men around her for her position: Klaus, Elijah, even Jackson

Quick Note: Caroline > Hayley On the other hand we have Caroline. Miss Mystic Falls, 4.0 GPA, Headed tons of committees and was a strong leader. Had tremendous growth and was relatable as a character.

Hayley was a pancake flat character. She had no growth, stayed the same throughout the show, it was always: Me, myself, and I with her, and on occasion "Elijah, Klaus, Jackson" look at me (that's why I said pancake - she had a slight curve in her character with which man she was screaming at for the week).

Queen - she called herself a werewolf queen which I hated. Werewolfs don't/shouldn't have queens! There werewolves, it means wild, a force of nature, pack animal. It should have been Alpha, not Queen! So her going around calling herself Queen just triggered me.

Overall, Hayley was an annoying, childish character, that brought nothing to the plot yet the writers insisted on shoving her down our throats. She was a poorly executed Mary Sue, unnecessary, cringy, and just painful to watch on screen. I have read Harry Potter and would honestly rather be in detention with Umbridge than in a room with Hayley.

Reasons I Do Not Hate Hayley: Klaroline. She was never a threat to the ship, she was a druken one night stand, nothing more. Like she may have been the reason Klaus went to New Orleans - because she got knocked up, but she was never a threat to the ship herself.

Well, whoever made it to the end, thanks for reading. Honestly, this rant was more for me, I've been seeing way to much Hayley content on my youtube page my tumblr for some reasons and I really needed to went.

KLAROLINE FOR LIFE, BECAUSE I WILL GO DOWN WITH THIS SHIP!!!

[zmediaoutlet]

fic: troth

a gift for @flownwrong as part of the kris kringle mingle -- have a good year, bud. :)

title: troth pairing: sam/dean length: 3200 tags: established relationship, season 10, truth curses

(read on AO3)

It's a sigil, some weird language neither of them recognize, two inches more-or-less square seared onto Dean's chest under the no-demons-allowed tat, right over his heart. Between that and the fun little gift from Cain, he's starting to feel crowded.

"Why there," Sam says, the jackass. Dean takes in a breath and Sam immediately looks sorry, says, "Wait—"

"Magical sigils tend to follow the ley-fields of the human body," Dean says, "so they can take advantage of belief foci: head, heart, hands, genitals, clusters of veins and nerves. In this case the sigil is inscribed in the place of greatest meaning for the witch who designed it."

His voice rasps. Sam grimaces. Writes it down, too, damn him. Like Dean's a damn wikipedia article he's referencing.

"This is not a question," Sam says, carefully. He ignores Dean's eyeroll. "I wonder how you know this stuff. I mean. I know we've been doing a lot of research but it seems—I don't know. Impossible."

It's not a question and so Dean doesn't know how to contribute. His tongue's felt weighed down, ever since they left that cabin in the mountains. His head hurts, fuzzy like lack of sleep and a hangover headache are warring for which can suck most, but Sam's been in some level of freak-out since yet another who-knows-how-terrible weird mark has imbued itself onto Dean's body and so here they are, at the tables in the library, researching through the night. Dean wants to say, hey, at least this one isn't trying to make me into a murder machine, but he can't seem to speak without being asked for something. Sam probably wouldn't appreciate it, anyway.

The spell leapt from the witch bitch's grimoire as Dean was tossing it into the fire, like it refused to die even as she went down under Sam's bullet. With the grimoire gone they'd probably be up the creek—and yet.

"I'd like you to drink a glass of water," Sam says. Another careful non-question. He sets it in front of Dean. "Your throat sounds like it hurts."

It does. Dean drags his hands over his face, hard, and then drags them over the back of his skull and presses his fingertips brutally into the muscle at the back of his neck that's aching like after a twenty-hour drive. Like trying to shift poured cement. Then he picks up the glass and drains it in cool glugging swallows, until his belly sloshes, and then he leans back in his chair with his eyes closed. Not the worst thing in the world to have Sam coddling him. From Sam, this counts as coddling.

The chair next to him drags out. "Don't hate me," Sam says. That's not a question, either. Dean gives him a sidelong squint and Sam's got his elbows braced on the chair arms, hunched, looking sorry. He's looked sorry a lot, this year. Dean can't say it but he hopes he communicates how dumb he finds the whole attempt is with, whatever, the shape of his ears and the distance apart his knees are set, and closes his eye again. "Yeah, okay," Sam says, quiet. Then: "Why can't you talk of your own volition?"

Dean's mouth opens.

Thing is, he's not saying it. It's like there's some portal that opens somewhere around his voicebox and information pours out from some other place. The answer's something about the witch cursing whoever killed her with knowledge beyond blah blah, but that doesn't mean Dean's got to pay attention to it or knows what it means. His head's killing him, anyway. Sam's writing down something while Dean babbles about a Greek curse originating from Delphi and Dean's just—a speaker, turning in to radio wherever. Crank the volume and listen to him go.

"This is… incredible," Sam says. "Dean, I think—could you tell me anything?"

"Yes," Dean says, and expects more, and nothing comes. Level of detail is all over the place, but whatever it is always seems to be true.

"Huh." A dragging sound: Dean opens his eyes, and Sam's pulled up his laptop, is clicking around. White light washing out his face. "Okay: what website am I looking at right now?"

"Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia," Dean says. When isn't he.

Sam squints at the screen, says, "What's the URL?", and Dean doesn't get to call him an absolute bitch before he starts parroting out: "H T T P S colon slash slash—" although at least Sam looks like he regrets it well before Dean gets to say Oracle.

His throat really does ache by the end and his head hurts bad enough that tears smart at the corners of his eyes. From talking. Somewhere, Sam at age twenty-two is feeling vindicated. The room blurs and he closes his eyes again, grips the table so as not to sway so visibly. "Are—" Sam starts, but luckily he seems to remember to use the massive brain in his massive head and doesn't ask; he touches Dean's arm, instead, gently at first and then squeezing hard. It hurts a little, is warm. Feels good. Dean should get cursed by some kind of dead Big Fat Greek Wedding broad more often.

"Yes or no questions, maybe," Sam says, mostly to himself seems like. Then: "Does answering hurt?"

"Yes," Dean says. Sam is supposed to be the smart one, right? He's testing that now.

"Does… the complexity of the question increase the strain of answering?"

"Yes," Dean says, voice cracking like he's friggin' thirteen, and Sam squeezes his shoulder instead, and then the back of his neck where everything seems to have been replaced by screaming furiously hot steel, and somehow Sam's hand doesn't sear right off so that must be something that Dean's dealing with on the inside. He feels like he should be visibly smoking.

"Hey," Sam says, quiet, and touches Dean's face, and—ah, damn it, the tears have spilled over so his face is all wet. He'd crack a joke about cutting onions but he figures Sam's heard it, and anyway he already got a lecture about autonomic responses to pain when he broke his collarbone, that one summer when they were kids, does Sam remember? None of which he can say but Sam maybe gets it anyway, since he smears his thumb over Dean's cheek and then says, "Stop being a wuss," so Dean can shove vaguely in the direction of Sam's heat, and Sam can grunt on the weak impact and then say, "Okay, c'mon—" and drag Dean to his feet even if he thinks he might faint.

His bedroom. Sinking into the memory foam, his forearm over his eyes. Sam turns on the bedside lamp and Dean flinches, even with the shade, so the lamp goes off again. A few seconds pass before Sam sits on the side of the bed.

"Guess it would've been too good to be true to just get the answers to life, the universe, and everything," Sam says. "Or, I guess we could, but then you'd blow up? What do you think, worth it?" Quiet, although he's just about the one thing that doesn't seem to hurt right now. Dean fumbles a hand down and finds Sam's leg, warm through denim, and flicks him as hard as he can. "Ow." Yeah, that's what he gets.

Sam sits there quiet for a while, Dean's hand tucked in against his thigh. While Dean breathes it feels like the pounding of his head reduces, a little—just a regular high-speed drum solo and not a Keith Moon explosion—and it feels less like he's gonna puke and have a stroke all at the same time.

"One reason we've got to fix this: I don't know how, but somehow I'm missing the crack you'd normally make about me holding your hand." Dean snorts. Sam's fingers move against his pulse. "Maybe later we can try more yes and no stuff. I want to be able to just ask how to get rid of it but I don't want to give you an aneurysm."

Sam's hand moves up his forearm. Dean swallows. Lot of answers they could use.

He expects Sam to get up but he stays. His hand folds over the mark on Dean's arm and stays there. Another pulse point but Dean guesses that's not why. Sam's warm, which is a stupid thing to keep thinking but it just feels so damn good Dean can't give himself too much crap for it—he is warm, and he feels right, and he smells good on top of everything else. Been a long time and everything's been so weird and scary, even scarier than normal which for their lives is really saying something, and he missed Sam, is all. A lot. More than he could say, and now that he wants to say it he can't. His life's a real joke, a lot of the time.

While his pulse slows further he thinks about the last time Sam was in this bed. Six months ago maybe. With Sam hating him and him knowing he deserved it, and how that didn't matter in the face of the dumb physical release they both needed, and how they didn't look at each other and it was dark and for Dean's part at least it wasn't even enjoyable, just—an exercise, muscle being used to its highest straining point and then the relief of dropping the weight, endorphins flooding, making it seem worth the effort. The next-day ache something you didn't think about in the moment. Kind of thing you didn't want to remember in the minutes before you died but it came up in the last flickering montage, the way he'd sat on the edge of the bed feeling loose and nasty and drained and just rotten down through every layer down to the very center where the little kernel he relied on to be himself, to be anyone worth knowing at all, had gotten dislodged and he wasn't quite sure he knew how to find it again. Sam had walked out of the bedroom without saying anything and that had felt right, or at least like the least wrong thing, considering all the wrong that had gone on. On the day he died, that last time, even if getting his lungs perforated hadn't been on the top things he wanted to do that day, that last little fleck of him felt like it got pinned down under the blade—he'd been there, at least, and been able to look at Sam and have Sam see who he was, and all the sorries he'd wanted to say and all the fault he knew was his just bubbled up and evaporated into the dank air and he didn't know, then, how to sum it up. All he should've said to his brother and all he felt and there wasn't time to say sorry for that last time. To apologize for all the times before. To go back, down the years and decades, and say wish I hadn't saddled you with all this, and yet also to say—I'm so glad they saddled you with me, and yet also—you are the best part of me, and yet also—and yet also. How impossible it was to summarize what being Sam's brother had meant and would always mean. Because where would he be, otherwise.

Sam hasn't let go of his arm. His heart beats slow as honey.

"This isn't a question," Sam says. Dean's fingers twitch against his leg. Sam's voice is low, even. "I've been thinking of the crappiest things to ask you. Big stuff, little stuff. Every thing I've wanted to know all my life. Things that happened when I was gone. Stuff I know you lied about. Like whatever happened to the Starburst I was saving in my backpack, that time in fourth grade when I wanted to share them with Laura Harris." It's almost a question but apparently not enough of one, thank god, because Sam really wouldn't like the answer. "I want to know how to get that thing off your arm. I want to know why you did it."

Dean pulls his arm off his face. Sam's looking right at him, in the half-light.

"Thing is, I think I know, but I don't know that I know." He seems like he's about to say something else and bites his lips between his teeth instead. He swallows, and shrugs. "Hard to cut out filler words."

That doesn't make sense but that's not unusual when Sam's thinking out loud.

What Dean can't say:

It was the obvious thing to do. Things were real bad between him and Sam but that wasn't the only reason, or even the main reason, he said yes. There was a huge evil thing that was going to just get huger and more evil and he was presented with the only way to stop it and there wasn't, for him, much more reasoning than that needed to do what was necessary. Maybe if Sam had been with him, Sam would've talked him out of it. Maybe. But more than likely, they would've just argued about which one of them would have to get laid out on the sacrificial altar this time around, and after he'd nearly lost his mind and his heart trying to stop Sam from dying last time, he'd be damned if it was Sam who'd die this time, and—he would've done whatever it took to get the thing on his arm and not Sam's. Including betrayal, as bad or worse than what he'd done to keep Sam alive last time. So, it was just as well. He'd defeated the huge evil thing and all that was lost was himself. Not much of a weight on the scales, really. And Sam would be fine. Sam had proven that, half a dozen times over.

"Your pulse slowed down," Sam says. Dean can't even really nod—that seems to count as communication—but it's obvious, anyway. Sam's cheek sucks in on one side and he looks all over Dean's face. "I guess this might be counterproductive, but—your head still hurt?"

"Moderately," Dean says, and then he makes a face. Who talks like that? It makes a little pulse of pain bloom at the back of his neck where his spine hits his brainstem, but so what.

Sam kinda laughs. "Okay," he says, and then sits there, with his hand big and warm at the crook of Dean's elbow and his eyes still on Dean, and his body there, close. God, has Dean missed that. Six months isn't the longest they've gone but—six months feels like a long time, these days. Knowing how quickly the days can run out.

"Sorry," Sam says, first. Dean sighs and Sam gives him a look. Yeah, Dean's got looks too. Even so, Sam lets go of his arm and then lays his hand heavy on Dean's chest, meets his eyes. "This is a question." Dean raises his eyebrows and Sam holds there, lips parted, like he's really thinking about it. Then: "Do I need you?"

Dean's mouth opens and he says, "No."

If it didn't hurt on a number of levels it'd be kinda funny how Sam's face changes. Full-on blanch, like faced with the nastiest-ever monster. Dean's chest feels like it's been hit with a sledgehammer and he pushes Sam's hand away, struggles up to sitting, only Sam grabs him again by the arm, shaking his head, brow all crumpled, but hell—if they've proven anything in the last dozen hours it's that Dean is a mouthpiece for the truth, the ultimate truth, the truth that's past guesswork and implication and is just actual fact handed down from the universe.

"Wait," Sam says, like Dean's saying any of this crap out loud. Dean twists his arm away and puts his back to the headboard, the wall. Sam lets go with his hands held high, face all sorry. "That's not true, though, Dean. It's not true."

Dean looks at the ceiling, because he can't shrug or shout and he thinks if he tried to leave Sam would just fight him about it. If that's what Dean answers then that's the answer. He just wishes Sam hadn't been enough of a dickhead to prove it to them both.

"God, I can't think how to—" Sam touches his leg, and then the center of his chest, and Dean smacks his hand away but Sam puts his fingers right back, like he's sounding Dean's body for answers. "Do you need me?"

"Yes," Dean says, and really ought to punch Sam in the face for proving the contrast, but as he's grabbing Sam's wrist Sam shakes his head and says, quick, "Do you want me?" and the answer to that is, of course, "Yes," and Dean's just about sick with it. Why is he—

"Do I want you?" Sam says, and then fast while Dean's opening his mouth, "I don't know if that's enough. But I do, Dean. I want you here, and I do need you no matter what—I don't know, maybe not to literally live, but I want you, I want you with me, I want to hunt with you and I want to be here because it's where you are, because—god, do you know why?"

Dean's answers blur from yes to no. Sam holds his jaw, curled in weird on the bed, eyes all over his face again, searching. His hair stupid in the back-light from the hall. No, Dean doesn't know why. "I could make you answer," Sam says, tight, hurt. Dean grips his shirt. "I want you. Do you believe me?"

"I—" Dean says, and his throat stalls. His head hurts but nothing's arriving to fill it.

Sam curls forward, his forehead touching Dean's. "This curse sucks," he says, breath hot on Dean's mouth, and Dean can't argue with that but there's this ringing in his ears that's kind of distracting him. Sam's skin smells so good he can't stand it. "I want you. Is that true?"

Dean nods, the answer whispering out.

Sam's thumb dragging over his cheek, rasping in his stubble. Under his sternum there's the weird panicked feeling of having missed a step down in the dark, where your whole body lurches in unthinking terror, but also this weird tight coil of—of he doesn't even know what. Two true things to hold at the same time and if they're true then how could he not believe them?

Sam's thumb pushes hard under his bottom lip, dents it against his teeth. His head dipping, his temple against Dean's. Dean gets a hand on his shoulder and wants to say—fifty things. Wants to punch him, still. A little. Maybe a lot. Six months, though, and how screwed up they've been. His heart thuds low in his gut and his head hurts but so what. He sits up more and Sam moves with him, his shoulder curving in toward Dean, his other hand sliding down Dean's side.

"I don't want to ask," Sam says, soft against Dean's ear, but he doesn't need to. Never has.