#the way to enter them had different rules but y’know

[harapeveco]

Funny to think that in the fight song fic I deleted by accident part of the plot was about the Zingai world that I called “underground” as a reference to bokura mada underground and now it’s established that place exists in canon but with another name and the worst part is the fic doesn’t exist anymore so technically I have no proof of it huh…fun day

[evan4ever]

Special Treatment —

Kit Walker

Warnings: mentions of the abuse at Briarcliff, cleaning wounds, talk of harsh treatment

Summary: You’re a nurse at Briarcliff and you give Kit special treatment. After he takes 15 slashes to his back, you enter his cell to care for him — something no patients are ever allowed after punishment. And truths are told.

—

It was late, you sat up folding some linen waiting for Kit to be brought back to his cell. You knew he was being punished by Sister Jude for stealing some bread. Such a silly thing to be punished over but it was against the rules and Kit knew it, but being his daring self he tried and unfortunately was caught. You weren’t sure of what the punishment was going to be. But you knew you’d be there for him afterwards, something you always did for him.

He was special.

It wasn’t a secret you cared deeply for each and every patient, giving them all their own form of special treatment. Usually not enough to make anyone bother getting after you. You never broke any major rules. Just giving them all more attention than what was “supposed” to be given. But how could you not treat them all like humans? How cruel to be expected to nurse without a form of humanity? They were there for their wrongdoings. But you weren’t supposed to be a prison. They were all still humans. And it felt good to treat them like so and to see the love given to you in return. They really loved you. And you loved them.

But Kit was different. He was special in a different way. You felt so drawn to him that it was impossible not to be around him. Of course that didn’t stop you from your job, but it had you doing things you said you never would.

You heard a door open and close and footsteps, 3 separate pairs, begin down the hall. You watch from inside the laundry room where you knew Kit would have to pass after his punishment, waiting to see who it was and sure enough two guards were holding onto a noticeably weak Kit, practically dragging him along between them and back to his cell. You took a deep breath in and nodded to yourself as you continued with your folding. You knew you had to wait a good while before you could tend to him so you wouldn’t seem suspicious. It was hard. You wanted to go to him now and fix his pain to the best of your abilities. But, you waited.

An hour and a half, 15 towels and 20 sheets folded later, you gathered some supplies — 2 small dish towels, bandages, alcohol and some pain killers with a large glass of water — and finally made your way through the dark, quiet halls. You passed cell after cell before making it to Kit’s. You looked around for any sign of guards or sisters before unlocking his cell and letting yourself in.

You quietly closed it and approached the man laying on his side. From his position you knew it had been slashes to his backside. Frowning to yourself, you approached him more, setting the supplies on to floor and bending down so you were at his level. You placed a hand on his shoulder, “Kit?” You whispered, giving him a small shake. “Kit? Hey, it’s y/n.” You said slightly louder but still in a whisper. He began to stir, coming to from his sleep. “I’ve brought supplies to help.” You nodded when his eyes opened slightly and looked at you. He didn’t say anything, as if he was figuring out who you were and where he was at. But after a moment he took a small breath in and nodded. You gave him a nod in reply and stood, taking ahold of his elbow with one hand and the other taking ahold oh his hand to help him sit up as gentle as possible. He let out a small groan, assuming because of the pain but once in a sitting position, he sighed.

“Y’know you could get in big trouble for this.” He said in a grumble and you smiled in response as you helped him remove his now unbuttoned shirt, but you quickly frowned at the sight of his back. A bloodied mess, the deep slashes so visible and prominent it made you sick. You swallows the feeling and put a smile back on, bending down in front of him to grab the alcohol, grabbing both dish rags and looking up at him. His eyes were already on you and when you met them, he raised his eyebrows flashing you a goofy grin.

“It’s nothing I haven’t done before, right?” You replied to his previous comment, tilting your head smiling more when he nodded.

“Right.”

You handed him the dry rag and took a breath in. “The alcohols gonna burn.” Was all you said and he got the hint, copying his last reply before shoving the rag in his mouth and biting down. You stood placed your right hand on his shoulder as if to comfort him then began pouring the alcohol lightly from his right shoulder blade to his left in a line so the alcohol would run down his back equally. You instantly felt him tense and a stiffened groan, his back arching to try to get away from the stinging. You rubbed his shoulder, cooing him comfortingly.

“I know, I know. Give it a few seconds.” You’re eyebrows were pushed together and his painful groans continued a few seconds longer, then feeling his muscle loosen up, you closed your eyes in relief. Continuing to rub his shoulder, you then started wiping the excess alcohol and blood, careful not to get too close to any wounds. “It’ll feel better soon, I promise.”

After a few moments, he removed the rag and set it in his lap and let out a rough but quiet laugh. “That’s a feeling you never get used to.” You smiled and nodded as you continued cleaning the wounds.

“You don’t get used to any pain.” You stated, looking down at him when he turned his head to look up at you. You pressed your lips into a tight smile, then removed the rag stuffing it into the bag taking the other rag when he handed it to you. You bent down again collecting the few bandages then grabbed the glass of water and handed it to him. His eyes lit up as he took it and began, literally, chugging it. You went back to tending his back, placing the long, large bandages over each now cleaned wound. Once finished, you lightly let your fingers run over each of them and your mind wandered. How? How could they be okay with doing this? It’s so inhumane. It’s disgusting. And over bread? My god. You just couldn’t understand. And why did you stay? It made no sense.

“Hey..” Kit’s voice brought you back to reality and you looked down at him again. He was now turned towards you, still sitting on the bed but having opened a spot for you to sit. He patted it and you obliged. “It’s okay.” He nodded to you as if he read your mind. You let out a harsh chuckle and shook your head.

“It’s not, it’s not at all. I just don’t understand.” You said in an angry whisper. “No one deserves this treatment. I wouldn’t wish it even on Sister Jude herself.” Kit just listened to you rant, you didn’t even notice his hand now placed above your knee rubbing it comfortingly as you had to his shoulder. “It’s so unfair Kit. It disgusts me.”

“I know, sugar.” Sugar. It was something he called you often but nevertheless gave you butterflies. You met his eyes finally and gave him a sad smile. “Y’wanna know one good thing I get out of it, though?” You raised your eyebrows curiously. What good could possibly come from a punishment so bad?

“I get time with you.”

Your eyebrows raised a bit, sucking in a small breath at his surprising words. You really didn’t know what to say.

“I’d take a hundred more slashes if it meant sitting in this cell with you.” You remained speechless, looking between his beautiful deep brown eyes before you made a quick glance at his lips then back to meet his gaze. Once again as if he read your mind, he leaned in placing a small, gentle kiss on your lips. You were quick to replying with a kiss in return. It was quick, but it was everything.

“I mean it.” He whispered. He was still close, your noses nearly touching. You smiled, your hand reaching to caress his face. It was so soft, like silk. You swallowed and nodded.

“I’d come every single time.”

[eclvpses]

Though she insisted she was fine, Leo noticed the difference in his aunt Marjorie in the last few years - they’d worn down on her, made work harder. She was still just as sunshiney, but less spry now. And his uncle Steve was a complete write off when it came to the front desk. He was a smart man, could often be found talking and singing to the plants they were surrounded by either at work or at home, but useless when it came to people. He’d once suddenly switched to his mother tongue of Dutch and claimed a stroke had taken over his faculties to get rid of someone who’d asked more questions than he was willing to answer - Leo was his nephew, through and through. And while Leo had thought himself a rather charming receptionist, his people skills could, apparently, ‘use a more gentle touch’. Gentle he admittedly, was not - and if it made Marj feel better, he could put out the Help Wanted! signs she’d made up, though he had his own agenda. Keep your enemies close and what not - who would know better than their competition?

Entering Blue Violet Blooms, Leo only planned on unceremoniously taping up one of his signs on the door for all customers and staff to see, but he was quickly distracted by a rather soft spoken duo by his side. An elderly woman who seemed to be eating out of the palm of an employee's hand - and Leo couldn’t blame her. He clearly knew what he was talking about, while simultaneously casually walking around like he didn’t resemble a Greek god. It hit all the necessary marks Leo was looking for (unofficially - Marj had gently told him ‘no fuglies’ would not be a rule added to the employee handbook despite Leo’s insistence.) Giving the woman a small wave accompanied by a moved grin, Leo turned to his now acquired target when he asked if they were in need of assistance.

“Don’t you know it…” Leo started, approaching the front counter and reading the name tag the other was brandishing, “Rory. Do you believe in fate?” Matching Rory’s pose, they similarly leaned across the counter - suddenly, they were disarmingly close, though Leo didn’t particularly notice. They enjoyed being in people’s space, didn’t really think twice about whether others had personal boundaries or not until they were already orbiting them. “You see, just down the street there’s another store - Fowler’s Flowers, have you been there? It’s run by this really sweet couple, but…” As tears beaded on the bottom of their lashes, Leo silently thanked whatever higher power had bestowed upon them the gift to cry on demand, “they’re a bit sickly, y’know? And they’re a bit desperate for someone as kind and beautiful as you.” The beautiful had slipped out on its own. Hopefully he took it as beautiful on the inside, though Leo didn’t necessarily feel a need to clarify. “They’re my family and we just - it’s hard. It’s really hard right now. I can tell you have a kind heart, Rory. Can I call you Rory? I’m Leo.” Maybe he was doing too much now, wiping at his eyes and putting on a proper show, but it was hard to stop once Leo got the ball rolling. How else was he meant to convince Rory to leave one job for another - the exact same position at that, probably the same pay too - if there wasn’t a sob story involved? “I’m so sorry. I told myself I wouldn’t get emotional, shit - you just really, like, touched me. The way you spoke to that woman. And you seem super smart. Like, you obviously know your shit. Are you working alone right now? I’d love to show you our place, it’s just down the street. Not even a minute away.”

STATUS: closed for @eclvpses (leo) LOCATION: blue violet blooms

Rory stands beside one of the displays, gently touching the petals of the blooms as an elderly lady admires them. She’d asked him to help her find something to lift someone’s spirits — talked about how an old friend has been having a tough time, months now in the hospital. Rory hadn’t pried, but there had been a sadness in her eyes that compelled him enough to leave his place at the front counter and allow her to lead him around the shop for about twenty minutes now. At the moment, her eyes linger on the deep purple irises, and Rory, without missing a beat, offers a small smile. “So these symbolize wisdom and courage,” he explains softly, reciting almost from memory. “They’re often given to someone going through a tough time, as a way of encouragement.”

The lady nods, her hand brushing the soft petals before moving on to the nearby daisies. She looks at Rory with a raised eyebrow, and Rory almost laughs at how expectant she looks. “Those are Gerbera daisies — bright, yeah? They represent cheerfulness and purity. Also great for lifting someone’s spirits.”

She hums approvingly, eventually gathering a small bouquet, her hands delicate but sure. Rory rings her up, his movements practiced but gentle. “Thank you, dear,” she says with a kind smile as he hands over her change. Rory gives her a small wave as she leaves, watching her step out into the sunlight, feeling a quiet sense of satisfaction. Wiping his hands on his shirt, he glances up to meet a young man’s gaze — smiles at him in greeting. Rory doesn’t know if he’s been here the entire time or not, but he hadn’t heard the bell, so — could go either way, he supposes. There’s something about him that looks familiar — can’t quite place it, though. Then again, Rory supposes that’s what he feels about most people in Blue Harbor nowadays. Easy to have seen them around, at one point or another.

“Hi,” he leans forward against the counter as disarmingly as possible. “Welcome. Anything I can help you with today?”

[inkykeiji]

character: todoroki touya | dabi

genre: smut

notes: aaah i was bikini shopping earlier today and i could not for the life of me stop thinking about going bikini shopping with touya-nii and how much of an absolutely menace he would be, so i decided to write a lil something real quick!! set in my touya-nii au!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, stepcest, semi-public sex, a hint of degradation, toxic relationship, size difference, minimal prep

words: 1.7k

synopsis:

And you wish you could say you don’t want it—don’t want his cock splitting you open right here, right now, surrounded by all of these strangers; don’t want those people hearing your poorly suppressed moans and wails of his name, a muddled mess of letters on your sloppy tongue; don’t want them all to notice the way the stall is trembling under the force of Touya’s thrusts, a large hand clamped around the frail change room door as he uses it as leverage to fuck you into the corner—but that’d be a bold faced lie.

You want it just as badly as he does.

And he fucking knows it, too.

And he fucking loves it.

The sun hangs high and proud in the stark blue sky, painting the boardwalk in translucent gold. A gentle breeze carries with it the scents of sticky sweet coconut sunscreen, the salt of the sea, and the grit of the sand, combining to create a delicate perfume that clings to your damp skin.

The crystal windows of the shops scattered along the outskirts of the beach glint in the harsh sun, the glaring rays partially obscuring the storefront displays, teasingly revealing bits and pieces of themselves, enticing patrons closer for a better look.

Your hands are still syrupy with melted ice cream, your fingers still encrusted with sugar from your waffle cone, and you stick a digit into your mouth, sucking it clean in contemplation.

“What is it, princess?” Touya asks the moment he realizes something has caught your attention, squinting in the late afternoon sun as he scans the stores.

“That pink bikini,” you mumble around your finger, prompting Touya to sigh in slight exasperation and pull it free from your mouth. “It’s so cute,”

“You want it?” he’s asking, though his hands are already patting his pockets, a halfhearted attempt to locate his wallet.

But you don’t need to answer. He already knows. He’s already decided.

Neither of you had planned on going shopping today, but Touya shouldn’t necessarily be surprised. When his baby sees something pretty, he’s sure she has to have it.

The aroma of surfboard wax and summertime flowers wafts over you as you enter the store, a precious little gasp dancing on your tongue as your eyes scan the endless racks of nylon and spandex, full of colourful patterns and glittery designs.

“Oh, niichan,” you begin, looking over at Touya with those trademark puppy-dog eyes, bottom lip twitching, on standby to form a pretty pout the moment the situation calls for it. “Can I?”

He meets your gaze with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, though it’s impossible for him to hide the love, admiration, validation that tugs at the corners of his lips, threatening to grow into a full smile.

“You’re a spoiled little brat, y’know that?” he murmurs, the insult soaked in admiration.

Shopping with Touya-nii always follows the same rules and regulations, so ingrained in your shared consciousness that it’s almost become a cherished little ritual.

Every single article you pick up must be thoroughly approved by him before you can try it on. He’s coming into the change room with you, of course, just like he always does, and he doesn’t give a fuck what the sales lady apprehensively murmurs about store protocol, policy, and privacy. The glare she receives in response to her timid warning—glinting sapphires paired with that sharp, horrifying smile—begs her to just try and fucking stop him.

So she lets it go.

It is absolutely crucial that you try on each piece in front of him, attentively watching you with those lidded eyes and that lazy smirk, leaning back on the small wooden bench with his knees spread wide.

With each new garment pulled on or stripped off, you feel exposed, you feel exhilarated; there’s something so wrong about it all, something that sends the intense fluttering in your stomach all the way up your throat as you answer him in soft, shy squeaks, something that has your heart spasming in terrified tremors against your rib cage with such violent vigour you’re afraid the bones may splinter under the strain.

But no one’s going to attempt to tell Touya what he can and cannot do, store codes and customs be damned. Because he exudes pure, potent power; it seeps out of his pores, it cracks like a azure storm cloud of lighting around him, flashes of it visible only when he turns those piercing eyes on his subject, his victim.

And maybe that’s what makes it feel so fucking exciting.

It is, however, quite difficult for him to only watch, to not touch. Vying fingers are curled into tight fists, or stuffed between his now clenched thighs, a poor attempt to keep them from tugging at the flimsy strings or popping the back clasp with practiced ease.

It’s astonishing, the sheer power you have over him, able to melt his ironclad self-control in an instant, armed with nothing more than a simple smile and a soft giggle of his name.

His restraint becomes molten metal in your soft palms, yours to mold and meld until it reaches its boiling point and vaporizes into wisps of shimmering silver—which just so happens to be after the fourth bikini you’ve tried on; a white little thing with beaded strings for ties—his calloused hands wrapping around your hips and yanking you into his lap, hot, hard, throbbing denim pressed against your inner thigh.

This is the worst kind of torture he’s ever experienced, he murmurs into the bare skin of your shoulder, teeth grazing it slightly before they sink into soft flesh, hard enough to break the skin barrier, hard enough to have a strangled yelp of his honorific catching in your throat, his cock twitching eagerly at the sound.

And you wish you could say you don’t want it—don’t want his cock splitting you open right here, right now, surrounded by all of these strangers; don’t want those people hearing your poorly suppressed moans and wails of his name, a muddled mess of letters on your sloppy tongue; don’t want them all to notice the way the stall is trembling under the force of Touya’s thrusts, a large hand clamped around the frail change room door as he uses it as leverage to fuck you into the corner—but that’d be a bold faced lie.

You want it just as badly as he does.

And he fucking knows it, too.

And he fucking loves it.

“Touya-nii,” you whimper, squirming a little in his grasp, a pitiful attempt to grind your cunt against his cock, fervent fingers tugging at his belt loops and picking at his belt buckle. “Touya-nii,”

He chuckles in response—a low, strained thing at the back of his throat—murmuring out a pacifying Alright, baby, alright, as he shifts beneath you, cavernous pupils outlined by a ring of blue while they watch your delicate hands work: belt unbuckled, button popped, zipper pulled, waistband shoved down.

It’s incredible, the way the two of you are still so insatiable for one another, each passing year seeming to magnify, intensify, this voracious addiction, the drip of time doing nothing to dull or diminish it.

He’s crushing you into the corner of the stall half a moment later, your legs dutifully locked around his waist, hooked at the ankles, heels digging into the dimples that cushion the base of his spine.

“You’re such a good little slut for me,” he’s breathing against the shell of your ear, dirty words sinking into the soft cartilage, sealed with a long lick of his tongue as he shoves his cock into your ill-prepared hole. “Such a perfect little sister, letting niichan take whatever he wants, whenever he wants it—whenever he needs it.”

And you whine and nod and agree, just like you’re supposed to; yes niichan, of course niichan.

It stings as your sensitive flesh stretches, splits, unstitches itself to accommodate him, the sweetest little cry choked off by a sharp gasp as his mouth latches onto your neck, lips and teeth etching a brilliant masterpiece of his name into your skin.  

The taste of peanut butter and chocolate still saturates his tongue, notes of its decadence infused in his spit as his teeth clack against yours, desperate to devour every little mewl and gasp and sob while your nails paw and pull and pierce, the locks of his hair and the cotton of his shirt and the muscles of his back.

It isn’t slow, or subtle, or discreet at all. No, it’s rough, it’s rancorous, it’s downright ruthless, each pound into you sending quivers skittering up the weak door, the rickety lock rhythmically clinking and clattering against its fastener.

Really, you should be embarrassed by how fucking shameless you both are, by how fucking inconsiderate you’re both being.

You should be.

But you aren’t.

Because the craving is too much, too strong for either of you to control or resist, this combined obsession—this sick addiction—bigger than either of you, than both of you, an overwhelming rush of glutton and greed intoxicating your blood, your bones, your brain until the compulsion consumes your body like some sort of everlasting parasite.

It’s over fairly quickly, though, each jackhammer of his hips slamming his cockhead into your sore, swollen cervix, each ragged drag back grinding his cock against that spot, each audacious whisper and horrified mutter acting as another spit of kerosene on the rapidly building blaze in the pits of your stomachs, forcing a conjoined explosion.

“You gonna—gonna cum, baby?” he nearly keens, voice shattered with pleasure. “Huh? You gonna cum for niichan?”

He’s so fucking pretty when he gets like this, sapphire eyes glittering with love and mischief, ivory tufts saturated in sweat, strands damp and clinging to his gleaming temples and neck, chest heaving against yours, forcing sugary sweet huffs of breath from his mouth into your own.

Yes, yes, yes, your affirmations are climbing higher and higher, needier and needier, airier and airier, words floating on clouds of ecstasy.

“Do it,” he commands, and you obey instantly, just like you always do, just like the good little girl you are, just like niichan’s perfect little princess.

He follows half a second later, encouraged by your pathetic pleading for his cum—oh, please niichan, give it to me, niichan, need you to stuff me with it, niichan—cock pulsating in impeccable time with your begging, filling your pretty little cunt with thick, hot strands of pearlescent ivory.

It is beyond humiliating to exit the change room nearly twenty minutes later, several bathing suits piled up in your arms as Touya deposits the ones you discarded, or the ones he disapproved of, on the counter by the saleswoman, flashing her a charming smile as he passes.

At the cash register, you shift from foot to foot, clinging to your niichan’s arm and nuzzling your face into his bicep, suddenly shy from all the gawking gazes; throngs of women glaring at Touya, expressions twisted in disgust, as if he’s some sort of depraved monster, the few men scattered around the store gaping at Touya, expressions loose with awe, as if he’s some sort of god among men, because he is.

Grabbing the two large bags stuffed daintily with tissue, Touya politely thanks the cashier for her service, cordial and considerate and all the things he wasn’t mere moments ago.

“And have a wonderful day.”

[jinconda]

Hustlers | 1

masterlist: TBA

pairing: Jungkook x Reader, (ft. Yoongi)

summary: When Jeongguk's girlfriend, Jihyo is taken by the Daechwita gang, everyone's friendships are tested as Jeongguk does anything in pursuit of getting her back. 

not so much a summary: im tired of weak, annoying y/n characters that are helpless and need jk to save them. that being said, reader is an explosive, temperamental, badass. jks girlfriend has the lovely title of being the annoying y/n.

warning: violence, I mean like some serious ass shit, killing left n right, graphic themes, dark themes, swearing

important note: play "nate growing up" by labrinth while reading / i deleted my account, saved this username in the case that i wanted to come back and boom boom who wouldve thought, here i am, this had chapters 1+2 in it, as you keep reading you’ll see the split, ty for ur support n once again i apologize for leaving without as much as a note

wc: (11.8k in total for both parts)

“They got Jeongguk’s girlfriend,” Yoongi said upon entering through the front door. He shrugged his bomber jacket off and tossed it onto the empty loveseat in the corner. The thump of the material hitting the chair caused you to avert your gaze: Yoongi’s forehead was covered in sweat, his hair spiraled in different directions and within one minute he’d checked his phone six times.

“They got what?”

“His lil girlfriend, y’know the lil goody two shoes he—“

“I fuckin’ know who, I’m asking how the fuck did they get her?” Taehyung stood from the couch, taking out a purple lighter from his back pocket and using it to light the blunt he finished rolling moments ago.

You tilted your head, not really sure why this was exactly your problem. Or why Jeongguk expected you guys to willingly come to rescue what he tried to keep so far away from all of you. He never talked about her, and when someone did bring her up he’d tell them to shut the fuck up and expect the subject to be changed without any further questions.

It had become an unspoken rule between the nine of you to completely avoid her presence when she was around. Jeongguk didn’t want any of you near her, which was incredibly fucking ironic since she was around during quite literally everything. There hasn’t been a time within the past eight months where you’d seen Jeongguk without her by his side.

Besides being Jeongguk’s girlfriend all you knew was that her name was Jihyo and she went to an Ivy— at least that’s what Taehyung told you. Jeongguk unwillingly entrusted him in dropping her off one morning, warning him to not speak a word to her or he’d cut his balls off. As usual, Taehyung didn’t give a shit about what Jeongguk told him. So, first thing he did in the car was ask the goody-two-shoes what she was majoring in. Law. She was studying to be a fuckin’ lawyer— how ironic. Taehyung laughed in her face.

“N’ where’s Jeongguk right now?”

Yoongi bent down grabbing the armrest of the loveseat he just threw his jacket on and hauled out the black briefcase you guys kept hidden in case of emergencies. Guess this was an emergency, then. “Going to get her. Joon, Rhea, and Hobi are already there. Seokjin n’ Jimin are waiting for us in the car.”

“Us?”

His hands fiddled with the lock for a moment, sweaty hands fighting the slippery metal. The locks eventually budged and opened with a pop, Yoongi grabbed one of the compact pistols and shoved it into the waistband of his jeans. He grabbed a similar pistol and threw it at Taehyung, who caught it with ease, joint held in place with his lips. His eyes locked onto yours and you raised a brow at him.

“Don’t be difficult,” he warned.

“Tell me why all of us need to be there.”

Yoongi groaned, he knew this was going to happen. When Jeongguk called him and uttered the words “They got her, Yoongs” he knew there was no way around this. They had no other choice, no negotiating, nothing. Jeongguk would fucking kill him if he didn’t haul you and Taehyung to the Daechwita house— pronto.

Truthfully, he didn’t even know Jihyo meant that much to Jeongguk. The first time he brought her to the house— sure, they were all surprised, really fucking surprised. Jeongguk didn’t bring girls to the house. But, that didn’t make her automatically special. Jeongguk could’ve just been high, fucked up, or maybe he didn’t wanna fuck in his car. He doesn’t know the details, never bothered to ask for them. But then he brought her over for a second time, and then a third, and then she was there when they made plans, she was there when they did business.

And Jeongguk was fucking impulsive. They tried to warn him, countless times. This girl wasn’t like you, or Rhea, she didn’t know how shit worked around here. Would she be able to kill someone if they pulled a gun on Jeongguk? Would she snitch to the fuckin’ police? Has she seen Jeongguk kill? Jeongguk didn’t care, didn’t fucking listen. Because to Jeongguk, he knows best, he’s the only one that's always right.

Quite honestly, he could kiss Yoongi’s left ass cheek right now because now they were all fucked. All of them. Jeongguk took her to one of his fights four days ago. One of his underground fights. It was an opening. She was a fucking opening for the rest of you to get fucked, all because Jeongguk was too fucking soft for some girl. He took her in backstage even though Yoongi begged to take her back to campus. No, no. Jeongguk said they’d be good. Because no one fucks with Jeongguk— another lie. Yoongi pushed it, kept persisting that she shouldn’t be allowed in. Then Jeongguk took his gun out, turned the safety off, and pointed it directly at him. Twelve years of friendship almost ended that day, all for a fuckin’ lil girl Jeongguk’s known for one year. Needless to say, Yoongi dropped it.

From what he gathered through Jeongguk’s rushed and rambled words over the phone, someone from Daechwita saw her go into Jeongguk’s dressing room. And just like that, years of hard work down the drain. Yoongi had almost laughed when Jeongguk said it. You’re a fucking idiot, Jeongguk. Not one of you had faltered publicly, shown a weakness. Don’t get him wrong, the other gangs were well aware that you guys could serve as weaknesses for one another, the problem with that is you all weren’t fucking weak. There was never an opening for the other gangs. Now though, there was. She was. She is. Daechwita struck fucking gold that night.

So here he was, annoyed and beyond pissed that his Saturday was now ruined. The one time in a fucking week where he could do whatever he wanted. No business, no drugs, no guns, nothing. He was planning on spending the weekend with his dog, Holly, who was recovering from a broken leg at his nanny. Yes, his dog had a nanny. He hasn’t seen Holly since Sunday, and fuck did he miss his furball. To add the cherry on top, you were starting to piss him off even more. He didn’t need this right now, it was the last fucking thing he needed— especially from you.

“Listen, she hasn’t done shit, she’s innocent, and we—“

“Hasn’t done shit? He pulled a fucking gun on you? Are you—”

“Alright alright, nows not the time to fight over this dumb shit. If we don’t go and something actually happens to her Jeongguk’s gonna kill us all.” Taehyung sighed, taking one last hit off the joint and then smushing it against the ashtray. “Is it ideal? Nah, it’s not. But we don’t have a choice, so grow the fuck up. Both of you,” he tucked the glock into the waistband of his trousers, his favorite pair of white Gucci underwear tugging down as the metal of the gun rubbed against his tanned skin, securing it into place.

You stood up too, adjusting your two favorite guns— a GSR Granite and a PK380— that were secured on either side the holster that hung from your shoulders. “Yeah, yeah, let’s help the princess,” you darted toward the coat rack, careful not to “accidentally” punch Yoongi on the way, and picked up the leather jacket Jeongguk gave you a few years back to hide your holster with. Not to mention it was mid-February and Long Island was cold as fuck, the last thing you wanted was frostbite.

When you swung the door open you could hear Yoongi sigh in relief, followed by him telling Taehyung to shove the suitcase under the loveseat again. You walked down the stairs, careful not to bust your shit on some black ice while simultaneously eyeing Seokjin who sat in the Cadillac SUV, the one you guys specifically used when shit went wrong. He immediately saw you, a tight smile formed on his face. He shook his head slowly. Looks like someone isn’t happy either.

You walked up to the car, grabbing the cold door handle of the backseat but changed your mind last minute to move to the passenger door instead. Fuck Yoongi, I’m getting shotgun.

“Hey!” You heard Yoongi yell from the top of the stairs, you raised your arm into the air and flicked him off, peeking over the hood of the car to make sure he saw. And see he did, you watched him roll his eyes and yell something to Taehyung again.

You slammed the door shut and slumped into the very heated chair, “Damn Jin, you got this thing at a hundred degrees? How is your ass that cold?”

“How badly did he piss you off?” Jimin asked from the backseat, a mischievous smile forming on his face. You shrugged, not bothering to answer but knowing damn well why you did it. Because you were being a petty little shit, because fuck Yoongi right now, and above all, because fuck Jeongguk. Next time you saw him you might actually take him by the balls and rip them right off his fucking body.

You didn’t want to help her. You didn’t feel like it. It was twelve degrees out for fucksake. You and Taehyung were supposed to get high and binge-watch season two of Kingdom on Netflix. Was she innocent and didn’t deserve to be taken against her will? Sure, that you can admit. But, you didn’t know her. Never talked to her. Didn’t care about her. Jeongguk suddenly wants you guys to help her? Possibly talk and actually touch her? Now that it’s convenient to have his “friends” there? The list goes on. You weren’t a complete bitch, though, you were here, weren’t you? That ought to account for something.

Yoongi didn’t comment on you taking his usual spot. He entered the car, followed by Taehyung and with a quickened pace he immediately dove into a sloppy word vomit. He went over the plan a total of six times before you guys even pulled out of the driveway. Was it a good, well-thought-out plan? Fuck no. Fuck no, it was not. Yoongi had put in about forty minutes of thought into it, thirty of which were immediately after Jeongguk hung up on him— the other ten he thought of while explaining the first thirty to the three of you.

Daechwita was hosting an annual birthday party for their leader, Cha Eunwoo. Not that any of you ever went, with the exception of three years ago. The one and only time you went turned out to be a truly scarring night. Sweaty, gross gang and mafia members all around you. Preying on you. You shuddered at the thought.

Why they would kidnap Jihyo tonight of all nights was beyond you. Your most reasonable conclusion was that there will be civilians, friends— non-gang affiliated individuals present. And who’s evil enough to shoot up a party full of innocent civilians? As of right now, you were eerily close to crossing that line.

Yoongi went over everyone's individual roles too. Jeongguk had notified Eunwoo that Joon, Hobi, and Rhea were coming with him, for safety measures, obviously. He however didn’t mention that the four of you will eventually show up too— no, that had to remain a secret. You and Yoongi would go in through the basement window in the backyard. The house was like twelve-thousand-square feet, so, there was no fucking way anyone would notice one single window shattering.

Taehyung and Jimin would go in through the South-side balcony, climbing their way in. Directly into Cha Eunwoo’s room. You guys didn’t suspect that they hid Jihyo there, but, you weren’t going to take chances in checking the heavily guarded room. Once everyone was in, you’d all signal to Jeongguk, who by that time will already be meeting with Eunwoo and discussing a deal to release her.

Jeongguk was going to kill Eunwoo. You knew it. Yoongi knew it. Everyone knew it. It didn’t need to be said. Jeongguk pulled a gun out on his childhood best friend for her, there was no way he wasn’t plotting to kill Eunwoo. That's right, let your true colors shine, Jeongguk. You wanted the little lawyer to see him, to really see him. Not the fake “I only deal with the business side” fasad he had been showing her.

She hadn’t seen him kill someone, grip their fucking throat until all the air in their lungs depleted and they were left a lifeless corpse, all while he stared into their eyes, never faltering from their dying gaze. One thing about Jeongguk was, he respect anyone deserving of it in their final moments— never looking away from them. To him, it was the least he could do. The business you were all in was tough; people died, whether it was at your hand or not, it was another normal day.

You wondered if she’d cry, if she’d leave him. How she could watch Jeongguk sign off a deal worth one million in narcotics and then go to her fancy Ivy university the next day and pretend to be something she wasn’t. She was a liar— that’s for sure, but, hey, you were too.

The Daechwita mansion was mesmerizing, to put it lightly. It was a traditional Italian mansion, engraved and extravagant old stone. It had two fountains— yes, two separate fountains upon entering the circular driveway. In a way, it resembled the White House- minus the ugly and the legal politics. The front of the house, had about thirty symmetrical windows, fifteen on each side and another thirty in the back. A grand staircase that led to the golden double-entry doors. Daechwita was fucking flashy. A little too much, for your taste.

The problem was, you couldn’t drive in. They knew your faces, and by now, Eunwoo had probably issued a notice to look out for the missing four Bangtan members. So, simply driving in was out of the question. You would have to park outside the metal gates, climb the South-side of the fence and pray that the electricity wasn’t on, and then proceed with the rest of the plan. If the electricity was on, you’d go with Plan B. Kill the two guards in front and sneak in that way. Personally, that was the plan you preferred, the last thing you wanted to do was climb an eight-foot fence and pray you don’t get electrocuted on the way up.

Then again, Plan B had its own flaws. Seokjin would have to stay in the SUV and hack his was into their security camera database. If he managed to get through, that is without notifying any of the Daechwita members, it’d give you guys about thirty to an hour of time before someone would eventually notice the breach. Once they did, it would endanger everyone and possibly get Jihyo killed. Not that the last part mattered to you.

Climbing it is.

Seokjin had parked the car so frantically that you were surprised Jimin and Yoongi hadn’t flown out the back and directly into the front window. “My bad,” he muttered as everyone tried to catch their breath.

“No worries, next time, don’t break too hard,” Taehyung said patting Seokjin’s shoulder then opening the backdoor and being the first to hop out.

Seokjin nodded, embarrassed for letting his nerves get the best of him. Shortly after, you followed Taehyung out of the car, hopping out of it with a huff, until everyone was out. “Fuck that bitch is huge,” Taehyung commented on the top of the mansion peering through the tall bushes. Within the cracks of the bushes, you could see the lights glistening from the home, dancing against the fountain's waters.

“Hell yeah, it is,” Jimin agreed, being the first to start walking toward the towering fence.

It was a short walk, four minutes max if you had to guess. The dread of having to climb the fence was beginning to settle in. Not that you couldn’t do it, you could. But it was fucking huge. Seven feet? Ten? You can’t fucking tell in the darkness. There was a pause, no one uttering a word as you all gazed at the obstacle ahead of you. Fuck it. You weren’t going to sit here and be a crybaby, the longer you stood the farther away episode one of the Kingdom became.

“I’ll do it,” you heard the sighs of relief around you. Fuckers. Jimin even began to laugh, muttering something along the lines of being happy that he was happy he wasn’t the first one to go up. At that moment, you promised yourself that you’d punch him in the gut when this was all over and done with.

The fence had black borders, in it were white engravings that you couldn’t quite make out in the darkness. The fence was separated with a line in the middle, making your job of climbing it, much easier. The white engravings twirled to the top, leaving no pointed edges for one of you to cut yourselves with. Easy. This is going to be easy. You got this. You coached yourself through the waves of anxiety that began to riddle your body.

You wiped your sweaty palms against your pants and ran at the fence. Grabbing the black borders with both of your hands and hoisting yourself upwards. Once you lifted yourself from the ground, your foot lodged itself between one of the twirled engravings. You gave it a push, making sure it wasn’t going to break under the pressure of your weight. It didn’t. You were good.

You repeated the actions until you made it three-fourths to the top. Stopping yourself to examine the curved black border at the top for any electrical wires. It was dark, but you would be able to see the reflection of the wire against the visible moonlight. It didn’t look like there were any wires so, with a final deep breath you grabbed the top of the fence. Fuck. Fuck.

“Zzzzzzzzzz…” You could hear repeated noises coming from the bottom. You were going to kill them, all three of them. Yes. You’d kill them right after you manage to jump this fence. One by one.

“Fucking dicks,” you muttered as you took the final leap across the fence. Once you managed to rotate your body, you flipped them off, smiling proudly at yourself. Ha. Ha. You guys are pussies.

The route down the fence was easier than the one to the top. Not to mention, knowing you weren’t going to die from electricity certainly helped. By the time your feet hit the ground with a thud, the three rabid-infested animals you called your friends had already begun climbing the fence.

“Alright, we needa’ split up,” Yoongi said, landing lightly against the soiled ground.

"Sounds good, send the signal once ya’ll made it,” Taehyung swung his arm around Jimin, ushering him forward. He stopped in his tracks a few seconds later and looked back to you and Yoongi, “and please be safe. I don’t wanna have to finish Kingdom by myself.”

Taehyung’s smile didn’t meet his eyes. The severity of this mission hadn’t settled onto any of you, yet. You guys were like lambs in a house full of wolves. Nine against what— fifty, hundred? You know Taehyung didn’t mean to get sentimental, but, the fear was always there. Especially now. You nodded and smiled at him, sending him and Jimin off with a wave and thumbs up.

You turned to Yoongi, who had his lips caught in between his teeth, “Listen, I-“

“Not now, Yoongs. We’ll talk about it at home,” you grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it gently and telling him you two should get going.

The walk to the back-end of the mansion was long. Long as fuck. Who needs this much fucking space for a house? Not you, that's for sure. They probably haven’t explored every room the mansion had, no way. Who knows how many rooms there were, fifteen? Twenty? Thirty? One for every window? Not to mention, it was almost below freezing and if you and Yoongi didn’t hurry the fuck up and get there in five minutes you both might die from hypothermia.

“My ass cheeks are freezing,” Yoongi muttered from behind you.

If you weren’t on the brink of death, you would’ve laughed. The both of you were crouching slightly, enough to be able to run through the tall bushes without being spotted by the guards while simultaneously hiding. The first few minutes were fine, you both ran effortlessly, at ease, you were one with the wind— or whatever track athletes say to convince themselves they enjoy running. But then, the cold began to pinch at your throat, then your lungs. About halfway there, Yoongi said he couldn’t feel his fingers anymore and you couldn’t either. And right now, your toes were beginning to give out. You couldn’t feel them anymore, the tightness of your combat boots might actually be killing you. Fuck Jeongguk for recommending these to you, and fuck Prada.

You approached the end of the bushes, out of breath and shaking from the cold. You peered over the corner of the bush to check if you could spot anyone— anything. Clear. Fuck yes, the coast was clear. You sighed in relief and gave Yoongi the go.

Whatever energy he had left, Yoongi mustered it from the pits of his soul and ran toward the backside of the house, grabbing a stone on his way over and shattering the glass of the window with so much force he temporarily paralyzed himself from the sheer shock. You peered the corner once more, making sure no one was approaching the side of the house from the sound of the glass shattering.

No one, again. Fuck was this your lucky day. Thank you universe, you mighty, beautiful, ball of matter. You followed Yoongi’s path, when you turned the corner, you saw him kicking the remainder of the glass to ensure you both didn’t cut yourselves on the way in. Diiiing. A vibration in your jacket. You take your phone out, wincing at the brightness you forgot to turn down, and read the notification.

tae: we’re in, this guy has a sick obsession with hentai

hobi: be safe. also wtf? eunwoo wanted jk alone so we’re outside some weird fuckin door in the basement,  should be a backdoor so try to go through there.

hobi: ps dont text too much theyre gonna start tweaking

hobi: also they took all of our shit, we have nothing

Hentai? Eunwoo likes hentai? What the fuck? They don’t have weapons? Fuck. Fuuuuuuck. This was going to be a bitch. “Hobi gave us the go. They’re somewhere down here, let’s hope they didn’t hear that,” your eyes avert to the broken window.

Yoongi nodded, bending down and swinging his legs through the window. “This is small as fuck,” he ushers his body through the tight space, wincing as his body accidentally grinds against fragments of broken glass. Although you knew his jacket was taking most of the heat, rather than his body you still cringe at the sight.

Yoongi hopped onto the floor with a groan, checking the surroundings for any loose Daechwita members. He then popped his head through the frame and gave you the stupid smile you adored so much. You shoved your phone back into your jacket and bent down, one hand planted against the wet grass while the other grabbed the rough brick wall. You placed both of your feet through the frame and slowly slithered in. About halfway in Yoongi grabbed your waist, whispering, “I got you,” and aiding you onto the floor. Once your feet safely touched the floor you thanked him, telling him he just wanted an excuse to touch you. Yoongi rolled his eyes at the comment, his cheeks, however, shined a bright pink. Cute.

“Did Hoseok say where they were exactly?” You shook your head, taking out your phone and checking Hoseok’s message once more, “we’re outside some weird fuckin door in the basement.” Well, that wasn’t helpful. Pretty useless actually, besides the basement part.

“Nope. Weird door and basement, that's it,” You flipped your phone so that the lit screen faced Yoongi. He scrunched his nose and squinted at it, eyes following the text of Hoseok’s message. He hummed and turned away from you, dismissing you. He lifted his jacket and shirt in a swift motion and grabbed the pistol, bouncing it in his hand a few times to adjust to the weight of it.

You did the same, lifting the side with the zipper of your jacket and grabbing one of the Italian Stiletto Knives you kept hidden in a pocket on the holster. If shit hit the fan you’d take out your gun, until then, you can’t go guns blazing and make a ruckus. Knives will do.

Yoongi peeked over the corner, then he quickly retreated back in. His eyes jumped around eventually settling on your confused gaze, “Two of em’. Once I go, you follow. Get the one on the left, just knock him out,” you nodded at the command, watching Yoongi twist around the wall to check again.

His hand lifted upwards, motioning for you to follow. You crouched down and followed him out of the room. The two guards were walking towards the end of the hall, backs faced to you both. It was a few seconds of you both crouching until you lunged forward and pressed your knife against the guy's throat, not enough to slit it, but enough so he got the memo, your other hand covered his mouth. He stuttered, trying his best to bend his back forward and flip you over. You kept your feet planted against the concrete restricting him from doing exactly that. You moved your hand that held the knife so that your arm could swing around his throat, snuggling it like a snake would to its prey. You kept the knife close to his ear, just in case. You looped your hand through the opening of the one that held his mouth and tightened your grasp, not enough to kill him. He struggled in your grasp, arms flailing, trying their best to grab you in any way possible. Two minutes later, he passed out.

You placed his limp body against the wall, upright, then turned to Yoongi who had copied you, the other man laid in the same position as the one you knocked out. Neither of you spoke. You couldn’t. There could be another two, or however many guards around the corner. Body language it is. Yoongi was breathing heavily, gun held tightly with his slender fingers. He tilted his head to the right, motioning toward the end of the hallway.

You nodded, creeping your way toward the end of the hall. You paused, allowing your ears to do what they evolved to do. Nothing. You relaxed, pressing your back against the wall and peeking over the wall. Nothing. Just moldy grey, almost black walls, but no bodies in sight. You used your left hand to shoot Yoongi a thumbs up and proceeded down the dark hallway.

This hallway split into two. One, from what you could see lead to a dead end with a simple vent in the middle of it, the other, a bit further was still unknown. You moved up the hallway, telling Yoongi to start unscrewing the vent in case, and pressed your body again the wet wall, repeating the same actions. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

How many is that? Six? Seven? Ten? Probably more that you couldn't see. Your eyes dart over the Daechwita members. You could see the black and gold jackets from here, the way the gold symbol of their gang, a dragon, shined against the white bulbs that hung from the ceiling. You kept looking around, until a figure cut the corner, looking into your direction. You held your breath, not quick enough to retreat, your eyes met the strangers. Hoseok. Hoseok. Oh fuck. Hoseok’s right there.

You retreated knowing you couldn’t stare at him too long. The Daechwita’s could get suspicious and look your way. Jackpot. If Hoseok was here, it meant Jeongguk was too. You ran back to Yoongi, who had unscrewed the vent and placed it next to him. “Let me guess.”

“I just saw Hobi, we’re close. But we’re also gonna,” you crouched down, looking into the dark vent, “have to go in there.”

Yoongi bit his bottom lip, fiddling with the flesh. Contemplating if it was worth going into the vent. Logically, they couldn’t just barge into the hallway and gun everyone down. You guys didn’t know how many of them there were, or if Jeongguk and Jihyo were safe with Eunwoo. You didn’t know anything. So yes— vent it is.

“I’m going to puke,” you sat on your knees. It reeked of weed and from what you could tell— shit. Real shit. Yoongi gave you a pat on the ass and whispered good luck.

“You have to go in too, y’know.”

You looked back to Yoongi, who was smirking directly at— your ass. No shit he was enjoying this, if you got to stare at your ass, you’d be enjoying it too. He nodded, “I know, I’m just going to be enjoying my view on the way.”

Idiot. You rolled your eyes, ignoring the heat forming on your face. You placed both palms against the cold, slimy surface and trudged forward, doing your best to keep the bile down while limiting your breathing as much as possible. The vents were hot, despite the cold metal. You figured it would be hot, mid-winter and all.

As you crawled forward, you heard Yoongi enter the vent behind you. Heavy steps reassured you of his presence. Left. Straight. Right. Another left. There you are. “You know what I fucking want.” You immediately recognized the voice— you could never forget Eunwoo’s sweet, sweet voice.

A pause.

You ushered forward, doing your best to see something, anything through the cracks of the vent. From what you could make out, you and Yoongi were on the right corner of the room. Jeongguk was sitting on a couch in front of you while Eunwoo sat on the other one, Jihyo by his side. Hoseok had told you guys in his text that they didn’t have weapons. That, however, didn't mean Eunwoo didn't have a gun hidden on him.

“What is that, Eunwoo?” Jeongguk spoke, leaning forward, pressing his arms against his thighs and tilting his head at Eunwoo. He was testing him.

“Don’t play with me, Jeongguk. I’ll kill her,” Eunwoo smiled, index finger grazing over Jihyo’s cheek. You could see the tears, the fear on her face when Eunwoo touched her. For a moment, you felt bad for the girl. Sad that she had to go through this. But, she knew the price of being with someone like Jeongguk. Now’s she’s just paying for it.

Jeongguk’s hand twitched, you caught it. He was trying his best to not leap over the couch and strangle that fucker with his bare fucking hands. “__.”

You blinked. Unsure if you heard the name correctly. You? What the fuck would Eunwoo want with you? Jeongguk would never. He would never give you up this easily for a mere girl. Someone he hasn’t even known for a year. You’ve known him for a decade. There was no fucking way. No. No. No. He wouldn’t do that to you.

“What else?”

Huh?

Else?

Jeongguk’s gaze didn’t move from Jihyo’s. At that moment, you realized he would give you up. He’d give you up if it meant he could have her back. Anger. Nothing else besides anger surged through your body. You shoved the knife back into the holster and grabbed your gun. Something touched your calve, causing you to flinch.

Fuck, Yoongi was here. He was gripping your calve, stopping you from breaking the vent and shooting Jeongguk in the face. “Breathe, baby, breathe,” his hand rubbed your back. He heard it, too. He almost wish he hadn’t. The way Jeongguk so effortlessly grazed past giving you up and onto whatever else Eunwoo wanted. Typically, Yoongi knew Jeongguk would use rather, sporadic means of plans if it meant it’d get the job done. He knew they were all hear-say, that Jeongguk would never actually betray any of you. This, however, Yoongi wasn’t so sure about.

“And 60 million. I know you’ll pay it.”

“Deal.”

You were going to strangle Yoongi if he didn’t let go of your calve. Deal? What fucking deal? He was going to give you up for some lawyer bitch? Some bitch that will rat him out once she’s done with college? Once her high of drug-lord mafia romance fantasy was over? You were seeing red. This was unforgivable, you’ll never forgive him.

“Hand her over, Cha,” Jeongguk rose from the couch and pointed to Jihyo.

“Not so fast, buddy. You give me, __. I give you your little plaything back.” Jeongguk’s hand balled into a fist. You secretly hoped Eunwoo sliced her throat, let the blood spill in front of Jeongguk. Watch his face squeeze into pain as he watched his lover die. You’d love that.

“They’re already here, I sent them a notice right after Mark called me.”

A setup? Was this a fucking set-up? Did he know that Eunwoo would want you? Had he planned to give you up when he called Yoongi? This wasn’t the Jeongguk you knew. No.

Jeongguk ran his hand through his hair, “I’ll call her now. Let her know you gave me Jihyo and,” his hand fell to his side, he pondered for a moment, like he couldn’t believe what he was about to say, “then you can have her.”

Jeongguk took his phone out of his hoodie, shuffling through his contacts until he eventually found your name. You saw the hesitation. It was there, for a split second. Until he pressed your contact info and your phone buzzed in your jacket pocket. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.

The world stilled, you slowly grabbed your phone, tugging it out of your jacket and in front of you. The photo of you and Jeongguk as teenagers smiling at the camera, cheeks smushed against one another. You declined the call. All eyes fell onto the vent. Your cover was blown. This was it. You didn’t look back to see Yoongi’s expression, instead, you rotated your body until your legs were facing the vent, then, you kicked. Kicked fucking hard. The metal cover of the vent flew forward, exposing you and Yoongi.

It felt like a blur like you weren’t the one in control of your body. You kicked the vent, got up, avoided Jeongguk immediately, and turned to Eunwoo, not giving him the chance to take out his hidden gun before putting a bullet in each of his thighs. You spit in his face, avoiding his screams, and grabbed his hair, roughly turning his head upwards, “Be glad I didn’t shoot your cock off.”

You let go of Eunwoo’s hair and lifted his suit blazer, revealing a holster similar to yours with two pistols, you grabbed them both. “Yoongi, kill everyone outside,” you turned to him, throwing both pistols at him. He shoved his gun into his waistband and caught both of the guns, immediately nodding and shoving the door open.

“Eunwoo! No fuckin’ way, you killed that fuck—“

One. Two. The guy fell to the ground.

Yoongi gave Hoseok the first gun, throwing the other at Namjoon who sat in the corner, and briefly apologized to Rhea for not having a third. He then took out his own and for the first time tonight— he felt relaxed, in control.

You faced Jeongguk and for the first time in ten years, you saw fear. Fear that was directed at you. He knew you heard what he said, heard him fuck up. And he was fucking scared, scared because in so many ways you were a direct reflection of himself. Chaotic, lost to anger, all of it. And right now, you looked at him with so much anger and hatred in your eyes he feared for his life. He feared for Jihyo’s life.

You didn’t shoot him. “If I see her again, I’ll kill her. I’m not fucking kidding.”

You didn’t acknowledge her. She was a mere memory in your world, one that you would make sure you’ll never see again. Jeongguk looked at you with hurt eyes, you knew he loved her. He cared for her. For the first proper time in his life, he loved someone romantically. Cherished them.  

What Jeongguk did tonight was unforgivable. He betrayed you. That, you’ll never forget.

You walked out of the room, ignoring Eunwoo’s screams of pain and the way Jeongguk’s expression tugged at your heart. Fuck you, Jihyo. You grabbed the PK380 and shot the first Daechwita member you saw.

You didn’t consider yourself a killer, it happened to come with the job. The guilt was another aspect that wasn’t included in the job description but came anyway. It didn’t disappear as time moved forward, it slowly descended into nothingness you learned to ignore. On occasion, you could feel it prick your heart, hoping you don’t pull the trigger, taking another life. How could you not, though? It was your main job in Bangtan, other than Jeongguk, you were the fastest, the most apathetic— you were evil. You killed without mercy, without a second glance, because it was your job— it was expected of you.

Sometimes— often, when you were borderline blackout drunk— you’d look back at your first kill. The way the gun shook in your hand as you pointed it at the man, watching the fear in his eyes grow rapidly by the second. The sweat bubbled on his forehead, the tears forming in his eyes, how he fought against the ropes that binded him to the chair. The way Jeongguk gripped your shoulders, trying to steady you. The way he whispered in your ear, his warm breath making contact with your neck. You could still hear it, the softness in his voice, the adornment, “You got this baby, I believe in you.” You shot him in the head, nice and easy. At the time you were still young and foolish, you hoped the man didn’t suffer as the bullet you shot lodged itself through his skull.

It was also during that time your viewpoint on Jeongguk began to change. He was always there for you, always there when you needed someone to talk to, someone to cry to. You never meant for it to happen, you wanted to see him as only a brother, as family. But then he’d sneak into your room late at night and hold you, placing soft kisses on your shoulder and neck as you lulled to sleep. You couldn’t fucking help but get attached to him— fall in love with him.

He was different, unlike the other guys. He didn’t want you to see him as a brother, he wanted you to think about him, he wanted you to love him. He wanted you to stay up at night and fantasize about him. Yet, Jeongguk never loved you, he couldn’t, it was something he fought with for years. He tried desperately because he wanted to love you. You were like a missing puzzle piece to him, perfectly fitting into the hollow space in his heart. You two were so similar it often scared him, and maybe, just maybe, that’s why Jeongguk couldn’t love you the way you loved him— because he didn’t love himself. It ate him alive for years, sometimes still does.

He knew you loved him, you fucking admitted it to his face and all he could do was reject you, watch your face drop, and pretend like you were okay with it. He had to do it for your sake and for Bangtan’s, he couldn’t lie and pretend to love you. He knew it was his doing, he was the one that made the conscious decision to come into your room every night. You were beautiful, he was still young at the time, careless, and wanted to get his dick wet by his pretty friend— nothing more, nothing less. He was terrified that you’d leave after that, pack your bags and never talk to any of them again and it would all be his fucking fault. The other guys would kill him for losing someone like you. You were important, not just because you excelled at your job but because you were family to them. They’d take a bullet for you, even if it meant killing him to get you back.

“__, can you chill? Please!” Someone screamed from behind you, footsteps banging against the pavement of the Daechwita house like a bull. You didn’t bother to turn around, didn’t care enough to. If they tried to stop you right now, you’d shoot them too.

You were seething, completely ignoring the little voice in your head telling you to calm down, collect yourself, and get the fuck out of this damned house. You knew you were fucking up— that you fucked up the second you kicked the vent open and shot Eunwoo in his thighs. Should’ve been his cock, he deserved it. You’ve shot, twenty, thirty, you have no idea how many Daechwita members. If you saw a hint of gold on their jacket, a dragon anywhere on their skin, they were dead scum to you. Eunwoo crossed the line tonight, and as they all work for that sick fuck it meant they are just as liable.

The guys were going to give you a bitching, not tonight, or tomorrow, maybe in a week, when you’ve calmed down. The only person who knew what Jeongguk said as of right now was Yoongi, and you were going to make sure they all fucking knew it too. That if you saw Jihyo again after tonight, you’d kill her, and then you’d kill Jeongguk and whoever else let that bitch into the house. Logically, you knew it wasn’t her fault. After all, Jeongguk was the one that fucking said it, not her. But, it was because of her and that was good enough of a reason for you to never want to see her again.

What if you weren’t in the vent? What if you went in blindly, protecting him and her just to get fucked? What then? What fucking th—

“Please, just listen to me—“ You were pulled back by the collar of your leather jacket. You stumbled for a second, quickly gathering yourself and rotating your right arm backward, firmly pressing the gun against the person’s ribs. This is uncomfortable. The stranger’s hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around, you raised your other gun, swiftly pressing it against their temple, index finger teasing the trigger. “I need you to calm down.”

Hoseok? Fuck. Fuck. You almost shot Hoseok. What the fuck? He let go of your shoulders in a panic and grabbed your face, bringing it closer to his. His hands shook against your skin, is he crying? “We need to get out of here, please, you need to listen to me.” His forehead touched yours and he didn’t blink, eyes begging you to listen to him.

“Yeah, okay. Yeah.”

“You fucking bitch!”

Fuck. You pushed Hoseok off of you, letting him fall back and away from whoever was coming at you. Boom. You stepped back, looking down if there was blood spilling anywhere from you. Good, you were good. Calm the fuck down. You were in a hallway, close to the main entrance. You had been mindlessly shooting, not considering where you were or how many of them were there. A big bald guy stared at you from the end of the hallway, gun pointed directly at you. Clearly the fucker can’t shoot because you were a straight shot away and he still fucking missed. And unlike the baldy, you don’t miss.

You lifted your gun and shot him, it came naturally to you— the aiming. You never missed the exact location of where you wanted the bullet to shoot. It was second nature to you now, ten points for the bullseye. His brain scattered across the walls, painting it red. His large body slumped to the ground, head cracked into two. He deserved to die with his blood spilling out, but you didn’t have time for that right now.

“Hobi?”

You turned to your friend, who stared at you with an unreadable expression. It made you uncomfortable, like he was trying to make you understand the severity of what you did. Like you should be ashamed for what you’ve done, what you did right now. “Do you know, what he said?”

He sighed, lips pursing and eyes pointing to the ground below him, ashamed in his friend. He knew what Jeongguk said. Yoongi screamed it to him after you hauled out the room, killing five of the Daechwita members in thirty seconds, scaring the literal shit out of everyone. He’d never seen you like this, this was another level for him. Hoseok was in charge of the sniping on missions, he was never on the battlefield, far away from watching everyone turn into animals. He would only shoot if it was the last resort. Tonight was all types of fucked up, he shouldn’t be here. No one should, you shouldn’t be doing this.

He couldn’t blame you, though. After hearing what Jeongguk said to Eunwoo, he paused, unsure if he’d heard it correctly. Jeongguk had to have had an alternative motive, giving you up would be the stupidest thing he’d ever done— and that was a long list. He wouldn’t give you up, even if it meant giving his girlfriend up. You were an asset, you were important, without you, they wouldn’t be who they are now. As disappointed he was in Jeongguk, he knew there was more to his plan, there had to be.

“I do.”

“And?”

“We need to get out of here, __.”

You were angry, trying to press him into an argument where he defended Jeongguk. He didn’t want to fight with you right now, you were hurt and upset. He wasn’t going to add fuel to the fire, even if you wanted it. Much to his surprise, you turned around and headed for the entrance without another word. He winced when you shot the bald guy again, completely unnecessarily if he said so himself.

You swung the front door open. Everyone was there, all three cars. Seokjin’s, Namjoon’s, and Jeongguk’s. Silence. No one spoke as you walked over to Seokjin’s SUV and swung the door open so harshly you were surprised it didn’t fall off the fucking car. You didn’t check if Jeongguk was there, if she was there. You didn’t want to get more upset. You couldn’t cause any more damage.

You settled into the cold leather chair, looking down at your leather jacket, oh my god. Oh my fucking god. You hadn’t noticed. Everything was red, completely fucking red. You were covered in blood, none of your own. Your hands, shirt, jacket, pants, shoes, fucking everything, there wasn’t a spot on your fucking body where you weren’t red. You opened the car’s mirror panel, moving the plastic so that the rectangular mirror allowed you to see your reflection. You nearly gasped, red, red red. In your hair, on your cheeks. Your eyes were red too, were you fucking crying?

You felt filthy, disgusting. This was fucking disgusting. What did you fucking do? Holy shit, what the fuck did you do? You closed the panel, turning the safety back on and shoving your guns into the holster. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was too much. From the moment Yoongi busted the window in, up until this very moment with Seokjin. It was overwhelming, you felt suffocated. The walls in the car felt smaller, like they wanted to crush you. You could feel their eyes, watching you have a complete fucking breakdown. You bent down, letting your elbows jab against your thighs, the smell of iron hit your nose with so much ferocity you had to hold down a gag. Fuck you, fuck you. You were a fucking murderer, no better than Jeongguk. You killed them. You did. You, you.

Seokjin’s hand rested on your back, wincing from how slippery the leather had become. “Take me home,” you sounded so broken. He bit his lip, wondering if it was appropriate to comfort you or if he should just fucking drive.

“Please,” you whispered.

He took one last good look at everyone, they were all staring into the car. He’d be too, they were worried. They saw it— saw you break down. Saw you notice the blood, the reality of the situation. He didn’t know what happened back there, no one spoke as they left the house. It was uncomfortable, the tension that was surrounding everyone, oozing off of them. No one spoke, they just waited for Hoseok to come back with you, hoping you won’t shoot him. Then, Yoongi punched Jeongguk in the fucking face, startling everyone. Jeongguk let him, didn’t fight back. Something bad happened in there and to be fair, Seokjin was afraid of what would happen once they were home.

You didn’t speak again, drive it is. He wasn’t going to push it. You were strong, didn’t need his pity right now. He didn’t hesitate to send Namjoon the signal to get the fuck out and shifted the car into reverse, leaving everyone behind.

Yoongi had driven with Namjoon and Hoseok. Jimin, Taehyung and Rhea went with Jeongguk. They didn’t know, meaning they won’t kill Jeongguk on the way home, that can wait until they were home. He’d kill that fucker with his bare hands.

They were close to the house, Yoongi’s hand shook against the metal of his gun. He wouldn’t put it down, no matter how much Namjoon begged him to. He was upset, didn’t care about Jeongguk’s explanation right now. The rest of them weren’t there to see him dismiss you so lightly, like you were nothing to him compared to Jihyo. They weren’t there to see how the second you kicked that vent open, Jeongguk looked at you for a second and then immediately to Jihyo. He never looked away from her. Never. It was as if she was the only one in the room. It angered him, how Jeongguk ignored the both of you after you two saved his fucking ass.

“C’mon, Yoongi, you can’t shoot him.”

“And if I do?”

Yoongi looked up to the rearview mirror, Namjoon was already staring at him. Eye’s angry but pitiful, he felt bad. They all did. He wasn’t going to shoot Jeongguk, he couldn’t, it would complicate the situation more. He’d leave that decision to you, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try and scare the fucker. Yoongi looked away, slumping into the car seat. He let his head fall back against the leather, trying to ignore all the illogical thoughts penetrating his mind.

“Yo guys, JK is going to stay with Jihyo. Jimin just texted me saying he’ll drop them off and leave.”

Yoongi’s hands gripped the gun, knuckles turning white.

Namjoon sighed, “That’s probably for the best.”

What a pussy. What a fucking pussy. Yoongi sighed, looking down at his gun, and turned the safety back on with a click. He swore he heard Hoseok sigh in relief from the passenger seat. He felt like a child throwing a tantrum, he was angry, sure, but there was nothing he could do about it. He could beat the living shit out of Jeongguk, and he already punched him earlier and it did absolutely nothing for him. There was nothing he could do, not even if he wanted to. He’d kill Jeongguk and then what? Fucking nothing. They’d crumble.

He’d have to wait until you calmed down, and then talk to you. Listen to what you’d want to do, if you wanted to leave. Fuck. That hadn’t been an option for years, not since the last time you and Jeongguk had a falling out. This wasn’t like that though, this was another level, this was betrayal. If you wanted to leave, there was nothing they could do to stop you. Jeongguk was still their leader, they needed him as much as they needed you.

Then there was Jihyo. He wasn’t even sure how Jeongguk would go about that. Daechwita knew of her now, knew her name, probably where she lived, where she went to school. Normally, in a situation like this, Jeongguk would have her live with the rest of them. It was the safest, smartest option. Daechwita wouldn’t dare to penetrate their house, no fucking way. But there was no way you’d let her step into the house, even if they snuck her in and you found out, god knows what would happen then. As bad as he felt for Jeongguk, he set himself up for this. His explanation would have to be fucking amazing. Something so miraculous the rest of them would bow on their knees and thank him for being such a genius.

“We’re here,” Namjoon’s finger tapped his knee.

Yoongi looked out the tinted window, they were home. The SUV Seokjin had been driving was parked near the stairs, empty. Seokjin sat on the stairs, head hanging between his knees with a cigarette in between his fingers. He heard the engine and looked up, relieved to see them here, quickly getting up from the stairs and tossing the cigarette into one of the bushes.

He jogged up to them, “Are you guys good?”

Namjoon nodded, “Jeongguk here yet?”

Seokjin shook his head, looking to the front gates, “Nah. Jimin texted me saying he’s going to stay with Jihyo tonight.”

“Yeah, he texted us too,” Hoseok shut the car door, joining the circle.

“What happened with them?”

Yoongi got out too, they were looking to him to provide the explanation. He was the only one there, besides you, Hoseok only knew a few details so he wasn’t of much help. With a deep breath, he explained it to them, not letting the anger wash over his body again. “Eunwoo wanted her and money in exchange for Jihyo. Nothing more, he breezed past her like she wasn’t shit to him.”

“You don’t think he was just trynna’ stall?” Hoseok asked, not intentionally trying to piss him off.

“No.” Yoongi sighed, “I mean I don’t fucking know, man. He wouldn’t stop staring at her, even after __ shot Eunwoo. I get it, he’s in love, scared of losin’ her. He looked terrified, I’ve never seen him like that, I think he was being deadass bout’ it.”

“As fucked up as it is, we need to hear him out. Not today, but someday, we’re in deep shit with Daechwita now.”

Namjoon’s words caused a shudder to spread throughout them. He’d almost forgotten about Daechwita. About the fact that you might’ve paralyzed Eunwoo, that they killed so many of their men. Eunwoo wasn’t going to let it slide, he’d kill Jihyo the first chance he got, then he’d kill you and the rest of them. It might not be a problem tomorrow, or next week, but eventually, it will be, and an internal conflict between all of you is the last thing that was needed.

The sound of another engine roared through the front yard. The gate opened quickly and Jeongguk’s red Mercedes pulled into the driveway. Namjoon looked at Yoongi, warning him. He wanted to be calm, he did. But he looked at Jeongguk’s front window and he was staring at him. He was looking him dead in the fucking eye. Everyone quickly spilled out of the car, and Yoongi charged forward. Taehyung and Jimin caught him, bodies colliding against his, holding him back.

Jeongguk's brows furrowed, he looked upset. Yoongi knew Jeongguk was aware that he fucked up, but it didn’t matter right now. “Easy there, tiger,” Taehyung spoke into his ear, “let's not do something we’ll regret tomorrow.”

They grabbed his arms, hauling him backward. Jeongguk broke eye contact, reversing his car and speeding away from him, from his family. For some bitch. Yoongi scoffed, releasing himself from his friends and screaming, “Man the fuck up, Jeongguk!”

It’s been three days. Three long fucking days of you sitting in your room. Someone would knock three times a day, leaving food out for you and then leaving you the fuck alone. You silently thanked them for the privacy, for not pushing you to come out. You weren’t sure if Jeongguk came home the night you did or if he went with Jihyo. You heard everyone screaming in the living room, not directly at him so you came to the conclusion that he wasn’t here. Still isn’t.

You weren’t even sure as to why you were holing yourself up in your room. They didn’t do anything to you, there was no logical reason for you to not want to face them. Yet, you couldn’t. You didn’t want to face the responsibility of what will happen with Daechwita. You caused it, you had to fix it. For all you could know, Eunwoo might be paralyzed. You killed so many of them, the blood was on your hands.

You thought of the situation with Jeongguk too, what you wanted to do. You didn’t want to leave and even if you did, where the fuck would you go? Eunwoo had probably already placed a hit on you, you were a target, so that was out of the question. Jeongguk couldn’t leave either, he was the leader, you guys needed him to survive, as much as it pained you to admit that. You were going to have to live with it, with the hurt, the betrayal, with the fact that he didn’t love you. That he never did.

It didn’t dwell on you until last night, just how much you blindly loved him for years. Eight to be exact. You’ve loved him for eight years, like a deranged dog, blindly loving your owner who could give you up at any moment. And give you up he did. It angered you so badly. You’d never give them up, plan or not. It was out of the fucking question. You watched him fall in love with her, even though it pained you. You tried to fall out of love with him, tried to find other guys. Tried to sleep with them, let them take you out on dates, it was all to no avail.

You never wanted to see her again. Never wanted to see the reminder of why Jeongguk will never love you. The reminder of Jeongguk giving you up, betraying you. You were jealous, knowing fully well you had no right to be. He wasn’t yours, never was, never will be. Fuck you, Jeongguk. Fuck you. Fuck him for making you fall in love with him, fuck him for kissing you so many times, and most of all, you wanted to slap yourself for losing your virginity to him.

You hadn’t been with anyone else. Your one and only time, how fucking depressing. You were pathetic. This situation was pathetic. You were twenty-four years old for fuck sake, crying over a guy that hadn’t kissed you in seven years. A guy that rejected you seven years ago. You almost laughed.

You needed to get the fuck out of this room, it was eating you alive. Making you think of things you’ve ignored for years. It was becoming unbearable, having to live with yourself.

There was a knock. Then another.

You sighed, it was probably Taehyung or Jimin leaving you food again. You waited for a minute, then rushed to the door, unlocking it and swinging it open. You fully expected a plate of food waiting for you, not Jeongguk.

Before you could knee him in the dick and throw him out the balcony, his hand covered your mouth, the other pushed you back into your room. He kicked the door close with his foot, moving you forward to quickly lock it. You were tossing and turning against his grip, doing anything to get his hand off your mouth, you licked it, tried to bite, but Jeongguk was fucking strong. Stronger than you, even if you didn’t want to admit it.

“You need to hear me out,” he said, body pressing further into yours to get a better grip of control. He kept pushing you back. Then, your back hit the wall and Jeongguk pushed himself into you. His right knee enveloped your leg, preventing you from even attempting to knee him in the dick. You groaned against his hand, trying to speak, scream at him. It pained you seeing him, he was staring into your fucking soul with his pathetic eyes. You wanted to kill him, you would the second you were free.

His body was entirely pressed against yours, you couldn’t move an inch even if you tried, he bent his neck down, trying to get a better look at you. “I need you to hear me out, __. It’s killing me.”

You squinted your eyes, fuck. You didn’t expect this to be this difficult. You missed your friend, no matter how much you hated him at the moment. He was still someone you had spent the majority of your life with, he was your family. Jeongguk sounded out of breath, he had to have snuck in without anyone noticing him. There was no chance any of the guys would willingly let him talk to you, not without your permission.

“I panicked, okay? I fucking panicked. You need to understand that. Even if you came in before or after I agreed with Eunwoo, I wouldn’t. I fucking wouldn’t. You think I’d really give you up?” You tried to break free, he was hurting you. Watching his eyes twinkle against the moonlight wanted to make you cry. He looked sincere and you hated him for that, for looking like he was actually fucking sorry.

Jeongguk was beautiful. You wanted to punch yourself for thinking of it right now. He had always been beautiful to you. Even right now, after what he’d done, he was beautiful. He was so much older, so much more mature, he wasn’t the same Jeongguk from seven years ago. He caught his bottom lip between his teeth— a nervous habit he had— and stared at you. His ears were red. He was nervous. You didn’t know what to do, you felt suffocated with his body against yours like this. You couldn’t think straight no matter how hard you tried.

Jeongguk’s head sunk lower, forehead touching yours. “I would never give you up, I’d die before I’d do that to you.”

Jeongguk was becoming blurry, you were crying, letting the tears fall from your eyes and onto the top of his palm. “You’re my family, please, I would— I can’t live without you, I don’t even know how I could fucking make it up to you, I’ll do anything. Anything, please,” he choked, out, letting his hand fall, releasing your mouth.

Should you scream? Let everyone know he’s in here so they could beat the shit out of him? Should you just beat the shit out of him? No. You couldn’t. Not with the way he’s staring at you, looking like you’re the only person in the world to him. Jeongguk raised his hands, thumbs wiping the tears from your face.

You couldn’t stop them, they were spilling out, waiting for Jeongguk to clean them up. He was crying too, “I love you,” he said it so quietly you could barely hear it. You think you’re imagining it, are you fucking hallucinating? Had you gone crazy from being alone for three days, that you were hallucinating him? You know how he meant it, that he loved you as a friend. Right now, you didn’t care. He said it, that was enough for you. He hadn’t let go of your face, holding it upright so that you wouldn’t look away from him.

“Say it,” he leaned closer, “please, say it.”

He hadn’t been this close to you in years. The last time was six, seven, years ago? It had become an unspoken rule after he rejected you to not get too close to each other, for your sake. This, however, was testing all of it. He was so close you could smell his cologne, the muskiness you were so familiar with. You could see the scar he got with you when you both were fifteen, you even caught his new lip piercing, this was cruel. Was he playing with you?

Jeongguk pushed himself into you, “Fucking say it, __.”

“I-“ Just how many times had you imagined this? Fifteen? A hundred? Fifteen-hundred?

Jeongguk looked desperate, is he fucking okay? Why did he want to hear you say it? He didn’t love you, he had a fucking— he had a—

“Stop, stop getting in your head,” he was way too fucking close. You could feel his breath on your lips, he was inches away, maybe less. Maybe more, you couldn’t fucking tell, you might pass out. “For fuck sake, tell me—“

“I love you, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk looked like a deer caught in headlights. Your heart pounded against your chest, like it was trying anything to get the fuck out of there. You wanted to get out too, embarrassed for what you just fucking said. What the fuck are you two doing?

“Thought so,” Jeongguk closed the distance between you two, lips molding into yours. You were frozen from the shock, is he fucking kissing you? Why the fuck is he kissing you right now? This had to be a hallucination, there was no fucking way this was real.

“Kiss me back, dammit,” he growled against your lips, diving back in. You didn’t need to be told twice, you kissed back. It had been years since you last kissed someone. Jeongguk kissed as passionately as he did seven years ago. The metal of his lip ring grazed against your lip. He rolled his hip into yours, you could feel it. He was hard. How was this turning him on? Is he a fucking masochist?

Jeongguk’s mouth left yours, he moved to kiss your neck, hands bracing on either side of your head. He was licking and nipping at your neck, moving lower. You didn’t know what was happening, why he suddenly wanted to do this with you.

“Jeongguk,” you moaned, what the fuck? Fifteen minutes ago you were determined you’d kill him if he ever showed himself to you. Now, here you were, about to have sex with him. Is this what it was leading to?

Jeongguk only hummed against your skin, hands cupping your breast, giving it a harsh squeeze. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It felt good, too good. You wanted this so badly, you’ve wanted it for years. He has a fucking girlfriend. Snap the fuck out of it.

“Jihyo—“ Her name slipped out of your mouth.

He stopped. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Jeongguk released you, turning around without another word. You watched as he gripped his hair, bending over and muttering something you couldn’t catch.

“I’m so sorry, holy fuck,” Jeongguk began to pace, unsure what to do. You didn’t know what the fuck was happening, why he did what he did. Was he manipulating you? He’d fuck you good so you forgot about him betraying you? Is that what it is?

“What the fuck are you doing Jeongguk?”

He shook his head, hand bouncing in the air, “I’m sorry. I just came to apologize, seriously. I am fucking sorry, I don’t know what happened to me. When you said it, I just couldn’t—“

It. When you said it. When he said it.

“Are you still together?”

His brows furrowed, unsure of why you were asking him that, “It’s complicated.”

It’s complicated was code for yes, dumbass, we are still together. You wanted to puke at how easily you folded for him. He said a few sweet words and suddenly you were ready to forgive and forget.

“Why’d you say it, Jeongguk?”

“Huh?”

“Why’d you tell me you love me, Jeongguk?”

He blinked, body tense, “I do love you.”

“You don’t tell someone you love them and them dry hump them because you see them as a sister.”

He knew you were right. If you did have sex, what then? Would he suddenly love you? Would he break up with Jihyo to be with you? You didn’t even have to ask to know the answer to your own question. His heart was with her, regardless if his dick was not.

“It felt right, __. I—“

“You what? Thought you could love me because of how badly you wanted to fuck me? Is that it? You don’t love me, Jeongguk, you don’t.”

Jeongguk sat on your bed, frustrated. His palms rubbed at his face as he tried to come up with a good enough explanation. “Do you love me?” The question came out muffled, his palms obstructing his mouth.

“You know the answer to that.”

A sound erupted through the house. Jeongguk got up in a flash, body blocking yours from the door. “What the fuck was that?”

You didn’t know. How the fuck could you know? You were too busy trying to solve your love crisis.

“Jeongguk, get the fuck out of her room or I’ll kill you, I swear it.”

Yoongi. It was Yoongi.

[artzee-bee]

Now and for eternity| Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Fandom: Lucifer ( netflix)

Request:” Can you write an imagine where Lucifer’s wife is like this well known social light that owns her own luxury fashion brand and she starts receiving gifts from an obsessed secret admirer and Lucifer is unknowingly being targeted by the secret admirer who is trying to kill Lucifer in order to get the reader and Lucifer thinks it’s his father trying to ‘strike’ him down for some unknown reason until Chloe point out someone that correlates with the readers secret admirer and Lucifer’s attacker. Feeling some type away about it Lucifer decides to taunt the secret admirer by upping the PDA and romantic gestures getting a kick out in it much to Chloe’s dismay. And once the secret admirer is caught Lucifer rubs it in their face that the reader is his for now and all of eternity before showing the secret admirer his true face. ”

Genre: fluff? I guess

Warnings:death threats, stalking, attempted murder

~~~

It wasn’t unusual to receive gifts and flowers at your office. After all, with the job you worked and the wealthy people you collaborated with, the presents simply represented one of the many perks of being a designer. Except, one friday morning, while examining a particularly beautiful bouquet of pink lilies, you noticed the little card that came with it

“I know they are some of your favorite - <3 “

Usually, work associates would leave a name. Some way for you to know that they value your work and are thinking of you (and maybe to flatter you into giving them a discount), but there was no name on this card, just a tiny heart in a glittery, pink gel pen. Pink lilies were, indeed, your favorite.

You brought the flowers home and told your husband, Lucifer, all about the mysterious gift. You had talked to your secretary and even she didn’t know where the flowers came from, since no one came to drop off lilies that morning. You presumed the sender must have simply forgotten to sign the card, and perhaps your secretary had forgotten about them, with the busy morning she’d had. You and Lucifer had a laugh, imagining the shy and anxious intern that was probably assigned the job, and the scolding they’ll get when their boss finds out about their mistake.

The next morning, a box of your favorite chocolates were waiting for you on your desk. There wasn’t any note, just the same heart, written in the same glitter pen. You dismissed it as a weird coincidence and moved on to working on your designs.

Without you knowing, this also happened to be the first time Lucifer would be faced with a very interesting note. As he was getting ready to leave the police station, he noticed a piece of yellow paper, stuck to his windshield

“Back off of Y/N. Consider this your first and last warning” no signature. Anyone in Lucifer’s place would have lost their shit, but he paid it no mind. He was the devil after all! If anyone wants to take his precious Y/N away from him, well, they can try. It would make things all the more fun. He folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket before heading home.

The couple shared Y/N’s chocolates that night, talking about who this person might be. Lucifer wasn’t as amused as he had been the night before, if anything he was rather concerned but he didn’t want to say anything about the note to Y/N, because she would freak out. 

Nothing really happened for the next week. Anonymous gifts stopped showing up at Y/N’s office, Lucifer didn’t get any more notes and things were falling back in their place, until the day right after Y/N’s latest photoshoot went public and viral. It was all to promote her upcoming clothing line. As soon as she walked into the office the next day, she spotted a red, velvet box, the size of a notebook, in the middle of her desk. On top of it, a note written in the same glittery pink as the other gifts

“Congratulations on your new line. Those photos are gorgeous - J.P. <3”

Inside the box was a gorgeous diamond necklace, looking like it was worth millions. If you hadn’t been concerned about the sudden apparition of all these gifts so far, you sure were now. You immediately called your husband to tell him about the mysterious jewelry, but he didn’t pick up. Unbeknown to you, he was busy ranting to detective Decker.

“I mean, not to be dramatic, detective, but the situation does feel like it’s spiralling out of control. Death threats, sure, those come every other weekend, kind of like fanmail, y’know? But actual gun shots fired at my head, well, that’s where I draw the line.” he ended with a giggle. Lucifer was leaning on Decker’s desk as she was examining the bullet casings Lucifer had brought her from his apparent ‘attempted assasination’

“Where did this happen again?” she said, not taking her eyes off of her work

“Right by that coffee shop ms. Lopez always talks about. I may have lost a bet to her the other day and have to get her coffee for the rest of the week, so I was just exiting the shop when a masked man in a dark blue BMW zoomed by, pointing his gun at me and shooting blindly. I mean, that is the most basic attemp at murder I have ever witnessed. At least make it interesting!”

“Lucifer, if someone is out for your life, it’s serious business”

“Why would it be? It’s not like I can actually die, detective! Plus, it’s probably not that deep anyways. Just, dear old dad coming after me again for no particular reason. Very characteristic of him.”

“ You’re getting ahead of yourself. Whoever sent this wants you and Y/N apart, why would your dad want that?”

“Because he’s a prick who disagrees with everything and anything that makes me happy?” Lucifer concludes with an innocent smile “And, of course, Y/N being moral, our marriage goes against the heavenly rules of the almighty, so he’s trying to break us apart, but worry not detective! Me and Y/N are stronger and more in love than ever. My father will simply have to accept that. Nothing will break us apart” he said, puffing his chest out with confidence

“That’s good to hear Lucifer, but I still think we should stay open to different possibilities”

“Oh, come on detective, that would be a waste of our time. I know my father better than anyone, believe me when I tell you this is his hand and no one else's. Case closed! Now, let’s move to the next one! Chop chop detective, murders won’t solve themselves!” Lucifer said, marching out of the precinct. Chloe rolled her eyes at her partner, before hiding the bullets and the note in her desk and going after him.

Although it didn’t bother you, you couldn’t help but notice how much more touchy Lucifer had been with you, ever since the necklace incident. He needed to touch you at all times: when you were out for coffee, at lunch, at the station, in your office, in Lux. His hand was always either around your waist or tangled in yours. You felt sort of bad, thinking he must be a little insecure with this secret admirer being after you at all times, but you wanted him to know that you loved him more than anything and that no matter what, you would never leave him for a faceless man, no matter how many pearls and chocolates he bribes you with. And so, you decided to play along with him, giving him as much attention as you could. Your visits at the station almost doubled, you always cleared your schedule to make time for him and even decided to start work later in  the day than usual, so you could spend more time with him in the morning. 

One afternoon, as you were enjoying your time with Decker and Lucifer during their lunch time, one of the notes from your secret admirer slipped out of your pocket. You didn’t realise it until Chloe picked it up

“Oh, I was going to throw that out”

“Where’s this from?” she asked, studying the note

“Just one of this week's gifts” you confessed awkwardly. Without a second thought, the detective reached for her drawer, pulling out another note from inside and inspecting them side by side. Eventually, she placed them both in front of Lucifer

“Notice something interesting about the writing?”

“They are remarkably similar…”

“More like identical”

“What is that?” you asked, looking at the unknown note. Your heart sank as you read it

“I’ll explain everything at home dear, I swear” Lucifer said

“You’ve received death threats because of me?”

“I’ll tell you everything at home, I promise”

“You have initials…” Decker noticed

“Yeah, ever since my photoshoot, they’re present on every package”

“What floor is your office on again?”

“5th, why?”

“How can someone enter your office every morning without anyone, not even your secretary noticing, and exit just as mysteriously?” “Unless he found a different way in” Lucifer replied

“My window” you realise “You can step out directly onto the emergency staircase from there”

“He knew when to sneak in without being seen, so he must have known your schedule like the back of his hand. Who could know?”

“The only people who know it are my secretary and Lucifer”

“A stalker?” your husband suggested

“Maybe” Decker turned quickly to her computer “I’m going to check any business owners around that neighbourhood who could have had a close shot of when you enter and exit your studio, see if any initially match the ones on the notes. We’ll go from there” 

You thanked Chloe for the help and went home with Lucifer, who spent the entire car ride explaining the note to you and the events of the previous days. You were angry at him for keeping all of it away from you, but ultimately happy that he was safe. You spent the night drinking wine and rewatching all of your comfort movies, to calm your nerves.

You decided to try working from home for the next couple of days, too scared by the idea of a stranger following your every move. It was a challenging process but Lucifer did his best in helping you get accustomed to this new routine. His homemade meals could not compare to anything you would eat while in a meeting with your business associates. Plus, the company was much more delightful.

Chloe texted you, almost a week later, to come down to the station as quickly as possible. They had found the guy. You hopped into your car and when you finally arrived, Lucifer was waiting for you outside

“They found him?” 

“Yes dear, they did”

“How?”

“Well, as it turns out he lived in the apartment building next door. His living room window had a great view of everything happening in your office. We’ve found a week’s worth of gifts he was planning to deliver. It’s him for sure” 

“Thank you” you whispered before collapsing into Lucifer’s arms and hugging him tight

“It’s alright lovely. It’s over now. Let’s go see how the detective is handling it. I think they’re in the interrogation room now.”

From behind the glass, you watched the man that threatened your marriage and your husband's life, confess to everything. Admit to stalking you, in order to learn your schedule. Break into your office and open fire on Lucifer. More than enough to get him behind bars for a long time. Decker and Lucifer got up and were ready to leave, but your husband requested a couple of minutes alone with the man. The detective agreed, cautioning him to not do something stupid, before leaving them alone. Lucifer turned on his heels to face the man in handcuffs and you could instantly tell he was furious

“Truly an honorable try. Y/N is one of a kind, you were right about that, the only detail you missed is that, you see, she’s taken. By me” the mischievous smile on his face let you know that he was up to no good “Our bond is indestructible and it’s really laughable to think that you’ve risked so much to tear us apart when you didn’t stand a chance to begin with” Lucifer leaned over the table, now his back was facing you “Me and Y/N are, and forever will be, together. There is nothing you or anyone else can do to change that. She is mine and I am hers, now and for eternity” as his little speech came to an end, you noticed the man in handcuffs go pale with terror. He began shaking in his chair, screaming incoherently about the devil. Even tho you hadn’t see what your husband did, you could tell by the man’s reaction. You laughed to yourself, not even mad that Lucifer had used his devil face against this man. You would have done the same if you had the option.

[hyuukais]

In Due Time

Bang Chan day!

Word count: 525

Genre: Fluff, Soulmate au!, Chan x Reader

Warnings: None

Author: A nice little fic for best leader <3

All stands still, only soft breathes puffing through the silence of the room shrouded in the harsh dark of night. As the time slowly struck its way towards midnight, Bang Chan lay fast asleep in bed. His body heavy, almost completely unmoving, the sleep seems quaint and peaceful. Yet, deep beneath his eyelids, something stirred; A ripple across his conscience the moment the clock hands joined. Immediately, colors exploded past his sight. Chan found himself in a familiar room. Pillows piled high, objects from his life strewn about slowly mixing with someone else’s valuables. It was a cozy room tucked deep in the corner of his subconscious; Almost always empty except for them. They had already arrived, tucking themselves into a bean bag while waiting for him.

Creaky boards alerted their ears, “Well, hello, birthday boy.” They patted to another bag beside them, wiggling excitedly, “Come sit!”

He smiled at them, following their instructions.

Tonight, Chan once again found himself in a shared dream space with his soulmate. It was a strange yet special link between the two, coming with a rather restraining rule at the core. It only happens twice a year, once on each of their birthdays. No exceptions. Other nights may be filled with dreams but they’re never able to enter this room unless it was a birthday. So, they learned to cherish the moments they could. Getting over the initial fear of being lost in someone else’s head, the two opened up. Conversations flowed with details about their lives, their homes, their friends, their families. Chan grew comfortable to finally confess his position in a Kpop group and would often talk about Stray Kids. As time went on, the moments grew precious. Breathing in each other’s every little word or phrase or movement like they needed it to survive. The need kept them wishing, running back for more when the time came.

“So…how does it feel to be 24?!”

“Well…not too different. It’s one year and I mean my birthday just started.” He shrugged a bit.

“Yeah, I guess.” They laughed, knocking shoulders, “You do have plans though, right?”

“Ah…” His hand moved to the back of his neck, rubbing awkwardly, “The boys probably have something planned for me but, personally, nothing other than my regular Sunday live.”

“Ah, well promise you’ll do something for yourself. Whatever it may be just something that makes you really happy, that isn’t work.” They looked pointedly at the man.

“Okay, okay.” Chan smiled, looking beside him. Their eyes met his, he gripped onto their hand “I just wish maybe I could spend the whole day with you. In-person.”

His words gifted a grin to their face as well, rising up and spreading into their eyes, “I wish we could too, Channie, and we will, all in due time.”

The two leaned into each other. Chan’s arm wrapping around Y/n’s shoulder, squeezing just a little.

“Who knows how long that’ll be?”

They spoke with a playful lilt, “Y’know, I have a feeling we’ll be meeting not too far from now.”

“Oh really?”

“Yep! And once I find you, I am never letting go.”

[skinnyducky]

lullaby (pt. 2 to cherry) // v.h.

This part went through so many changes. Originally, they weren't getting back together but I ultimately decided for Y/n to take Vinnie back because I'm a sucker for happy endings and second chances. Kinda came out longer than I wanted it too, but meh. This part is heavily inspired by the song "Lullaby" by Mariah Carey. Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

link to part 1

Word Count: 2219, unedited

WARNING: language, mentions of partying, alcohol, drugs, and a very fluffy yet cheesy ending.

---------

It had been a few months since you and Vinnie had bid your goodbyes. Within those months, you were doing great. You had aced your first semester classes, you just moved into your apartment, and you were at the highlight of your life. The only thing you lacked was someone to bask in the happiness with. To say you missed Vinnie was an understatement, but you were too prideful to actually tell yourself that.

You tried dating again, but no one could hold a candle to your Vinnie. Plus, you hadn’t been keeping up with him on social media or anything, so you didn’t know if he had moved on and forgotten you. You didn’t want to reopen old wounds, so you refrained from contacting him.

But little did you know, not a day went by that Vinnie didn’t think about you. He constantly thought about what he did, beating himself up for even having the thought of another girl while he was with you. But he didn’t know what to do. Your relationship was dying, and none of you bothered to even talk about it. So, to him, he thought there was nothing that he could do…thus causing him to do what he did. Thankfully, he didn’t go too far with the girl, but still…he knew what he did was terrible.

Dating for him was pretty much impossible. Much similar to your situation, there was no one who could fill your shoes. The way you danced around in his head during the day and ruled his dreams at night…no one could do that for him. You were one of a kind, and with as many offers he got, he was torn that none of them were from you. He was a funk…a really bad one.

His friends and housemates took notice of this and being the best friends they were, they decided to drag him out of the house and to a party at Triller Compound because that’s what every heartbroken friend needed when they’re down. To be surrounded by booze, loud music, and sweaty people…oh yeah, that’s what he definitely needed right at this moment.

“C’mon, at least smile a little bit.” Alex said, looking back the upset boy through the rearview mirror.

“Smile about what? Going to some party that I didn’t even want to go to.”

“You seriously need to get over, Y/n.” Thomas sighed, turning to Vinnie from the passenger seat. “What happened between to you two happened for a reason. You just gotta let it go.”

Mia scoffed from beside Vinnie and slapped Thomas on the shoulder. “Thomas, it’s not that easy!”

“I’m just saying, if it were me, I wouldn’t be all upset and everything.”

“So, you’re saying if we broke up…you wouldn’t be sad?” Mia responded sharply, obviously joking.

Thomas nearly choked, looking back at his girlfriend. “I-I’m not saying that. I mean, if…it’s just that…it’s different, okay. He cheated.”

“Did you have to bring that up?” Mia rolled her eyes and turned to Vinnie. “Don’t listen to him, okay. It was your relationship, and sure you messed it up, but…you still can be sad about it. I think.”

Vinnie huffed and stayed silent, no bothering to listen to anyone. He didn’t need people reminding him of his mistakes, that was the whole reason why he was being a downer. He just couldn’t forgive himself. There were no ounce of words or speeches that anyone could give him that would make him feel better. This was just something that he’d have to get over with time.

It was only minutes before they pulled up to the packed mansion and stumbled out of Alex’s car, Vinnie being the last out. He watched as his friends rushed to the house before heading inside. Upon entering the house, scenes of people grinding and drinking came into his sights. The sound of trap music filled his ears as the strong stench of weed brushed across his nose. He sneered before walking to the backyard. He scanned the area for any sober person he knew, hoping to find someone to complain about his situation to.

As he searched, his eyes landed on a familiar head of y/h/c hair. He furrowed his brows, trying to get a better view of the person. “That can’t be who I think it is,” he thought to himself as he moved in closer.

That was when you looked to side, and he caught a glimpse of your profile. His heart nearly stopped beating the minute he saw your face. He breathed hitched in his threat as he tried to keep himself from hyperventilating. He never thought he’d see you again, yet here you were…just a few feet away from him. He had forgotten the fact that you two had mutual acquaintances, so it came to no surprise that you’d come to this party.

Vinnie watched as you threw you head back in laughter at something one of your friend’s said. There wasn’t much he could do but stare at you. He didn’t know what to do. It’d be risky to even think you’d want to talk to him, so he refrained from walking up to you. He didn’t want to bring up painful memories. It was a good thing you hadn’t seen him yet.

---------

“You’re joking!” You smiled. “Come to think of it though, Bryce would be the one to try and drink tequila off your tits.”

Your friend, Y/bff/n snorted, “I know right!? I was like…sir, I am not that kind of a girl. Please have a good night.”

The two of you continued to laugh at her situation before you heard her go silent. You calmed yourself down, looking at her shocked face. Confused, you followed her eyes and turned around to see what had her so shook up. At that moment, your eyes met the very person you had least expected to see tonight…

Vinnie.

He was staring right back at you. The minute he realized you were looking back at him, he nearly freaked out. He attempted to look around, playing as if he hadn’t been eyeing you, but you had already caught him in the act.

“Is that…?”

“Vinnie, yep. That’s him.” You said, placing a hand on your hip. “I wonder what he’s doing here.”

Y/bff/n snickered. “It’s a party, Y/n.”

“I know that, but I honestly didn’t expect him to be here tonight.”

You two watched the boy look around frantically and you couldn’t help but smile a bit. You missed him and judging from the sight in front of you…it seemed as if he did too. But still, you were a bit out of the loop. Who’s to say he hasn’t already moved on. You couldn’t intrude on his happiness, that wouldn’t be fair.

“You should go talk to him.” Y/bff/n said.

You looked at her with your eyebrows raised. “You really think so?”

“It’s obvious he’s still into you, babes. And considering the fact you’ve been looking at him with those goo-goo eyes, I think you’re still into him too.”

“I don’t know, Y/bff/n. I mean…what if he’s seeing someone else.”

“There’s no way. If he’s trying that hard to pretend that he wasn’t just staring at you, he’s still hung up on you. And, even if he is seeing someone, that doesn’t mean you can’t just go and talk to him.”

You shrugged. “I guess you’re right.”

“Atta girl. Oh, and on your way back, make sure you grab me one of those little mini cakes. I’ve been craving one since we got here.”

Rolling your eyes at the foolish girl, you proceeded to leave her side and head over to Vinnie. The moment he saw you, he practically froze. You could tell he was nervous; his awkward stance and wide eyes told it all.

Within seconds, you stood before the boy, a slight grin on your face.

“Hey, Vinnie.” You greeted, placing your arms behind your back.

“Y/n, didn’t see you there!” He laughed. “Well, I did see you there but like, I wasn’t watching you or anything…yeah, totally wasn’t watching you.”

Your smile grew wider. “Yeah, sure. So, how’ve you been?”

“Good, uh…definitely good. You?”

“Um, my classes are going well, and I just got a new place…so, can’t complain.”

“That’s dope, Y/n. Glad to hear you’re doing good.”

You nodded, looking down at your feet. “Same to you. I’m sure you’re, y’know…enjoying everything with your girlfriend.”

Vinnie looked at you with a puzzled expression, your statement taking him back a bit. To be honest, he couldn’t be surprised that you thought he’d be taken by now because he thought the same about you. However, at the same time, with the way he was acting right now, he was shocked you didn’t realize he was still head-over-heels for you.

“I don’t, um…I’m not seeing anyone.”

You grinned to yourself, trying to keep your cool as you tilted your head at him. “I’m sorry, I just thought you’d be with someone.”

“It’s fine. I definitely get it. To be honest, I thought you’d be here with someone.”

“Technically, I am.” You replied.

It was at that moment Vinnie felt his heart explode and despair run through his system. He weakly put on a happy face, shooting you a thumbs up.

“That’s g-great.”

“Yeah, Y/bff/n just was dying to come with me. She’s been begging to go to one of these parties, so I thought why not?”

“Oh,” Vinnie breathed, feeling his heart piece itself back together. “So, you’re not seeing anyone?”

You shook your head. “Not right now. I’ve been on a few dates and stuff, but no one has ever made me feel like y-”

You stopped yourself, locking your lips together to keep that last word from leaving your mouth. You didn’t know why, but something in you didn’t want you sharing your feelings with Vinnie. Maybe it was the small ounce of hurt that clung to your heart like a child from Vinnie’s infidelity. Or maybe it was the slight fear that he may not want to get back together. There were so many thoughts in your head, all speaking at once. It was so loud, that you didn’t even catch what Vinnie had said to you.

“…and-…Y/n? You listening?” He tapped you gently, bringing you out of your head.

“Sorry about that. I was in my head for a moment. What were you saying?”

“I was just saying that I’m sorry for what I did. I was just so confused on where we stood in our relationship, not saying that it justifies my actions, but instead of coming to talk to you, I went and…well, did what I did. Believe me, I never meant to hurt you, and I totally understand if you don’t forgive me.”

You sighed, “I’m not gonna lie, I didn’t know where our relationship was headed either. Honestly, I was planning to break up with you that night.”

“And I ended up giving you even more of a reason to do so.”

You both laughed before meeting each other’s eyes.

“I wish we had talked about it, y’know? Communicated and all of that suff. It would’ve saved us both a heap of heartache.” You continued. “I can’t lie, even though life has been good, it sucks not being able to share it with you.”

Vinnie smirked, taking your hands in his. “Y/n, ever since we broke up…I haven’t been able to think about anything but you. I hadn’t streamed, I barely left the house…I couldn’t do anything. I just didn’t know how to function without you. You have such a hold over me…I didn’t know how to get over you.”

“I guess this whole goodbye thing really wasn’t a good idea after all.”

“No, I think it was. I think it happened for a reason. That reason being, so we can fall in love all over again.”

At this point, you were a smiling mess and there was nothing you could do to hide it. Vinnie wasn’t any better, you could tell he was in pain by the way he hadn’t stopped showing his pearly whites. It clear to both of you now that you two were still in love, if not more than before.

“That’s so sweet, Vin.” You said. “But also, cheesy. You were always the sappy one in the relationship.”

“As if, Miss Hopeless Romantic. I’m not the one who freaks out over Valentine’s Day.”

“Mmhm, sure you don’t.”

The two of you stood there for minute in silence, your hands entangled, and your gazes planted on each other. It felt good, and it was almost as if all that hurt…that fear…it was completely gone and now replaced with passion and security.

“Y/n, I know you probably have some resentment towards me, but I love you too much to care. So, if you’re willing and there’s enough forgiveness in your heart…I wanna restart, right from the beginning.”

Without much thought or hesitation, you said, “We can restart. For sure.”

“Well, in that case…Hi, I’m Vinnie.”

You smiled as the feeling of love washed over you. To say you were happy was an understatement, you were in paradise. Life was great, and now you had your boy back to share it with.

“Nice to meet you, Vinnie. I’m Y/n.”

[teawaffles]

Albert’s Drinking Contest: Chapter 2

“——This is, the twentieth!”

Announcing the number of glasses he’d drained, Moran set his empty wine glass on the table with a thud.

He was still clear-headed, and able to hold a conversation. But those wild features of his were now flushed, as red as the copious amounts of wine that had entered his stomach.

“Ready to give up now, Albert?”

In his tipsy, trembly vision, Moran beheld his opponent before him.

But far from giving up, Albert was completely sober. There was no discernible change in his complexion; as if he’d started drinking right there and then, he tipped back his glass, and downed his wine with ease.

With that, they were now tied at 20 glasses each. Ignoring the man staring at him with twitching eyes, Albert called out to Louis, who was still serving as their waiter.

“No matter how many glasses I drink, this profound flavour never ceases to delight. To have procured such an excellent vintage — your selections are exquisite as always, Louis.”

“Thank you very much. As I recall, this is an import from America.”

“Ah: I’ve heard that the French vineyards are still afflicted with blight. [1] It’s a pity we won’t be able to enjoy their splendid red wines for some time to come; but it’s also our good fortune to have learned about the quality of wines from the New World.” [2]

“…………”

Albert was being much too relaxed, and had even started to digress into areas completely unrelated to the match; hearing that, Moran shot him a look of displeasure.

Incidentally, the challenge had been much too great for Fred: he’d been the first to pass out, flopping onto the table with his glass in hand. Immediately after, they’d covered him with a blanket so he wouldn’t catch a cold, and the man was presently fast asleep.

“Well then, both sides have managed to consume twenty glasses. It seems both of you still have room for more, but…… if I were to speak from an impartial standpoint, you appear to be at a slight disadvantage, Moran.”

Having observed their match, William leisurely shared his views.

Moran knew his analysis was unbiased, and that was precisely why he let out a groan of frustration. His face flushed, he grabbed the bottle of wine, intending to pour his next drink; but when he realised that not a single drop had trickled out, he waved the bottle in the air.

“Sorry, Louis. It’s empty, so could you bring a new one?”

“Understood.”

Louis promptly retrieved a fresh bottle, and with brisk efficiency, filled both their glasses.

“This’ll be, the twenty-first.”

As soon as his glass was full, without any intention of savouring the wine, Moran chugged it all in one breath.

But the next moment, he was swamped by an intense wave of vertigo: somehow, it seemed he was much nearer his limit than he’d thought.

In contrast, Albert merely tilted his glass, observing the colours and clarity of the freshly-poured wine. Then he swirled it once, bringing it near his nose to savour its aroma, and took a sip to taste.

“Is this a Madeira?” [3]

Standing beside them, Louis revealed the bottle label with a smile.

“Indeed — your wine tasting is accurate as always, nii-sama. Would you like some salted cheese to complement it?”

“I’d prefer to pair such cheeses with a sweet port. [4] Or perhaps we could have a chicken with that, like Sir John Falstaff.” [5]

“In exchange for one’s soul, indeed.” [6]

Watching the two brothers quote Shakespeare as they chatted, Moran was incredulous.

“……Y’know, this is a drinking match on which I’ve staked my dignity as a man — not some wine-guessing quiz at a party,” he protested.

However, in a long-suffering gesture, Albert merely shrugged.

“Although this is an earnest match, Colonel, it’ll become a dreary affair if you leave no room for entertainment. Moreover, this wine was used to toast the American Declaration of Independence, making it perfect for tonight’s celebration.” [7]

At that bit of trivia from Albert, Moran looked positively fed up.

“Oooh, if you have so much time to share your vast knowledge, then why don’t you hurry up and drink already?”

But far from being put out, an elegant smile rose to Albert’s lips.

“Oh dear; you’re in an awful rush, Colonel. Could it be a sign that you’re nearing your limit?”

“Wha……! N-No way. I can still continue.”

Albert had hit right where it hurt, and Moran uttered a groan that was rather different from before. It seemed his opponent had observed his giddy spell from earlier.

Although the match was far from over, Moran was now consumed by a crushing sense of defeat. Seeing that, Albert made a show of draining his glass at a leisurely pace.

Even after downing a substantial amount of wine, the eldest son of the Moriarty family was unruffled, and Moran shot him a complaint.

“You’re not actually drinking some deep red tea instead of wine, are ya?”

Perhaps it was because the liquor had addled his brain, for Moran put forth a suspicion that he wouldn’t normally have entertained.

To that, both William and Louis burst into laughter.

“That’s a very unique deduction, Moran,” said William, as he struggled to rein in his mirth. “But even I can’t devise a magic trick like that.”

Louis was also trying very hard to suppress his amusement. “I filled both your glasses from the same bottle: how could it be that alcohol came out one time, and tea the next? It’s so unlike you to even consider such a ridiculous idea, Mr Moran. Wouldn’t you agree that it’s time to cut back on the liquor?”

“S-Shut it. I was just saying. And I’m not giving up now.”

Their teasing had completely soured his mood. Glancing to the side, he saw Fred, who was sound asleep.

“Somehow, I think he might’ve just laughed at that too……”

Moran gazed at the man he thought of as a younger brother, dead to the world with a peaceful look on his face. Then he fixed his blanket, which had slipped a little out of place.

When his two brothers had finally managed to regain their composure, Albert spoke up.

“In fact, Colonel: it would better protect your good name if we were to pretend that outlandish trick was true. Or perhaps we could give you a handicap, and allow you to alternate between wine and tea.”

“You don’t say. Then I’ll have two drinks the next round.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, coming from you. If you’re the one to set up the cause of your own defeat, then it’ll make a convincing excuse to others, I see.”

“Urgh……”

No matter what he said, Albert had a ready riposte. As such, Moran swallowed his frustration, and returned his focus to the match.

“Anyway: Louis, keep it comin’, please.”

Seeing Moran try his utmost to put on a brave front, Louis was even beginning to find that a little cute; muttering his acknowledgement, he proceeded to fill Moran’s glass once more. Then, with great force, the man poured its entire contents down his throat.

“…………”

The alcohol burned like fire as it flowed into his stomach — all of a sudden, Moran came to his senses. Placing his glass on the table, he pondered.

His vexation at the Moriarty brothers’ teasing. His alcohol-induced befuddlement. And above all, Albert’s ability to hold his liquor, which had far outstripped his expectations.

His irritation at those three things had wound up completely flustering him. But once Moran calmed down and took stock of his situation, he realised William was right: he was clearly on the back foot.

Until now, he’d been unconsciously averting his eyes from his predicament by being oddly stubborn. But this pickle wouldn’t resolve itself if he just kept running away. If he continued to drink without a scheme in mind, then in his mind’s eye, he could see the outcome plain as day: he’d be out like a light in no time.

However, if he lost, then he’d have to listen to anything the victor said. Moran had originally set that rule as a way to spur himself on, thinking that there’d be no way he would lose. But now, it had lost virtually all effect in rousing his will to fight — all that remained, was the dread of what Albert would make him do upon his defeat.

He absolutely had to win. But the way things were going, it was all but certain that he’d lose.

In that case, the only option left would be——.

Within him, that conflict crystallised into a single decision.

“William,” he said. “Won’t you join in the match? Or rather: please, join.”

“Me? But why?”

Up to this point, William had been serving as an impartial judge, and he asked that with curiosity. But Moran did not answer; instead, his expression twisted into a bitter one as he continued.

“That’s not all. On top of you joining in…… If you’re agreeable, Albert, let’s ignore the count thus far and start afresh……. This is, truly a personal…… request from me.”

That faltering reply was very much unlike him, and William broke into a meaningful smile.

Moran’s decision — was to request that they increase the number of participants, and restart the game.

Despite his frustrations, Moran was well aware that he wouldn’t be able to beat Albert alone. Hence, he thought he’d bring in more opponents to counter him: even if it was just one more person.

The other part of his plan was to reset the match. If Albert agreed to that, then compared to the two existing players, someone joining in halfway would naturally have the advantage. But from Moran’s point of view, even if he was defeated, it would still be better than having Albert directly exercise his “winner’s privilege” on him — such were his complicated emotions. It was an absurd request, to be sure; but at least he hadn’t proposed having Albert compete against the combined total of both his and the other participant’s tally: perhaps that was a reflection of whatever faint scraps of self-respect Moran still had within him.

Perceiving Moran’s complex tangle of emotions, William placed a hand under his chin and pondered.

It’d also be fun to take on his suggestion. Although he did have his role as the judge, it wasn’t as if the match had any strict rules to begin with — they could easily do without one.

However, if he were to join in, and the match were to be restarted, then both Moran and Albert would be at a disadvantage. When it came to wine, he knew his elder brother’s stomach for it was bottomless; but still, it was clearly unfair to have a new and virtually-sober participant waltz into an honest drinking match. And yet, then again, he didn’t want to dismiss Moran’s “request” out of hand.

In this situation, the best option would be——.

But the instant William made his decision, and tried to voice his answer, Louis quietly raised a hand.

“Hold on a minute. Could it be that you were thinking of taking up his suggestion, nii-san?”

“……Yes, I was just about to say that. Seeing as Albert nii-san doesn’t appear to have any issue with that.”

William looked at his older brother, seated across from Moran. Then, Albert flashed them both a slight smile. Although it would mean that he would gain a new opponent, and the contest would start again from the top, it seemed he didn’t mind one bit.

Registering Albert’s generosity, Louis pointed at himself.

“In that case, may I participate?”

“……You, Louis?” Moran asked.

Louis proceeded to explain himself briefly. “I cannot countenance the possibility — however slight — that after joining the match, my brother will end up drinking too much and impacting his health. Hence, I believe that issue will be negated if I were to join the match in his stead.”

“But in that case, I would end up worrying for your health, Louis,” said William, furrowing his brows slightly.

At his brother’s kindness, Louis unwittingly cracked a smile.

“It makes me very happy to hear that. But it’s rare to hear Mr Moran make such a serious request, and so I can understand how you’d want to help him out. Of course, as Mr Moran said: this is only if you’re agreeable, Albert nii-sama.”

“Alright. Having heard that much, I shan’t object,” replied William. “What about you, nii-san?”

His elegant smile unfaltering as ever, the eldest son of the Moriarty family nodded.

“I don’t mind. If you’re certain, Louis, then I shall respect your decision.” Then, Albert’s expression turned solemn. “However, as you mentioned yourself, you absolutely must not reach the point of destroying your own health. Even though the colonel can’t help it, Louis, my condition is that you cannot drink recklessly. Is that alright?”

“Understood, nii-sama. ——Well then, it’s settled.”

Nodding in assent, Louis quietly took a seat beside Moran. Absorbing how his ridiculous request had been granted, more than gratitude, Moran’s expression was one of astonishment.

“Is this really alright, Louis? I know I was the one who asked, but Albert’s no pushover. If we lose, then you’ll have to suffer the forfeit too……”

However, Louis smiled wryly as he replied.

“I already knew that when I asked to join, didn’t I? To be honest, I don’t want to stand opposed to either you or Albert nii-sama. But now that I’ve made my decision, I have no intention of going down without a fight.”

“……Louis.”

That resolve had shaken Moran, so much so that he began to tremble. Watching him out the corner of his eye, Louis filled both their glasses; then Albert too filled his glass by himself, and raised it toward the two of them.

“Well then, once again, let’s give it our all.”

“I won’t be holding back either, you two.”

“Oh, both of you will be sorry real soon.”

Having gained a dependable ally, Moran’s enthusiasm was now back in full force.

Looking at the three of them, William spoke.

“So with Louis’s entry, the contest shall start again from scratch. But for both Moran and Albert nii-san, the next glass will be your twenty-third: please take care not to injure your health.”

With that word of caution from William, the drinking contest had resumed.

Footnotes:

[1] French vineyards had been devastated by aphids in the mid-19th century, and then fungal diseases after that. (Wikipedia)

[2] The “New World” refers to the Americas, in contrast to the Old World, or Eastern Hemisphere of the Earth. (Wikipedia)

[3] Madeira is a fortified wine made on the Madeira Islands, off the African coast. (Wikipedia)

[4] Port is a fortified wine produced in the Douro Valley in Portugal. (Wikipedia)

[5] Sir John Falstaff is a character featured in several of Shakespeare’s plays. (Wikipedia) He is renowned as a drunkard and glutton, whose favourite food is capons — roosters reared specially for their meat. (BBC article)

[6] A reference to Faust, who traded his soul with the Devil in exchange for worldly pleasures. (Wikipedia)

Aside: As far as I can tell, this line doesn’t actually appear in Shakespeare’s works. But in the legend of Faust, Faust makes his pact with the Devil via the demon Mephistopheles — who is mentioned in Shakespeare’s play The Merry Wives of Windsor (Wikipedia), which stars Sir John Falstaff as its main character.

[7] This is apparently true: Wikipedia

[moldisgoodforyou]

the screenplay

hello i am splitting these up tried to put them together but wasn't working

one scene wonder !!

wordcount: 2k short n sweet

________

Sophie had been begging for months now to see the project Rafe had been working on for one of his classes, especially with how often he added to it. He was constantly jotting down notes in his phone when he thought of something to add - at dinner, when they were hanging out, or the second he’d wake up. He’d always shift to the side whenever she tried to peer over and see the screen, nudging her aside.

All she knew was that it was for his screenwriting class in his minor that he took in the spring, and she swore she’d never seen him so invested in school before. He kept editing it after the class finished, working on it a little throughout the summer, but finished it before he went out to see Sophie in Spain.

When they were back to school in mid-August, she’d mainly forgotten about it - until the end of the month, when he strolled into her room and dropped a bound stack of papers on her desk.

She glanced up from her planner, confused. “Hello to you too, Rafe Cameron. Did I know you were coming over?”

“No, I invited myself. It’s done.”

“It?” She picked up the papers and read the first page. It read “UNTITLED,” BY RAFE CAMERON. Once she realized, she lit up, grinning at him. “Is this what I think it is?”

He flopped onto her bed and locked his fingers behind his head, glancing over with a grin. “Dunno, what do you think it is?”

“Your screenplay? Can I read it?”

“Yeah. Go ahead. It’s only twenty minutes or so, just a short film, so don’t expect too much, but.” He shrugged. “You can read it.”

She beamed and moved to the bed to read, facing the opposite of him. As she read, he was buzzing with nervous anticipation, trying to look over when she laughed or grinned at the page, or when she bit her lip - she’d just nudge him away to finish it. When she finished, setting the papers down, she raised her eyebrows at him.

“Do you like it? Is it okay?” He asked eagerly.

Sophie beamed, nodding slowly. “It’s familiar.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed at being caught. “Is it?”

“I mean -” She laughed, running her finger over the main girl’s name, Sloane. “If you were trying to be more subtle, you probably wouldn’t have used my middle name here. Where’d the guy’s name come from?” She cocked her head curiously, hoping to make him blush yet again.

“Uh.” He scratched his head, giving her a sheepish smile. “My middle name’s Asher, actually.”

A grin spread across her face, slowly. “You told me you had no middle name.”

“No, you asked if I had a middle name, and I said no. I have two. Asher and Clifford. Clifford’s my mom’s maiden name.” He corrected, fishing out his driver’s license and handing it to her, with Rafe A. C. Cameron on it.

She glanced it over, then glanced back at him with a teasing smirk. “Rafe Asher Clifford Cameron. That is the most pretentious name I’ve ever heard -”

“Hey!” He nudged her shoulder. “Watch it, that’s your boyfriend you’re talking to.”

“My boyfriend, who wrote our love story into a screenplay.” She beamed as he blushed even harder. His character had confessed his crush on the girl to his friends much sooner than she began to give way, something she’d always suspected for a while, but never confronted him about it.

He tapped the bound pages again. “Did you make it to the end? You missed my favorite part.”

“Yeah, I finished reading…” She furrowed her brow and flipped back through to what she thought was the end, then one page further. There was a dedication inscribed to her in the middle of the page: “inspired by a true story. for my favorite.” She bit her bottom lip hard, tearing up a little.

“Oh. Rafe.”

“Is that okay?” He took the screenplay out of her hands, gently setting it aside, and rolled on top of her to kiss her, slow. “I know it’s kind of cheesy, and you don’t really do cheesy. But I figured you played a part in this just as much as I did, so I wanted to give you some credit.”

“It’s perfect.” She reached up and threaded her fingers through his hair, smiling as she kissed him back. “My sweet boy.”

“Keep your voice down, you’ll ruin my rep.” He joked, laughing when she scowled and bit his lip gently in retaliation. “Hey! Hey, play nice.”

“Did you get an A?” She asked, kissing him again with a little more heat behind it. “Can I keep it?”

“Not sure yet. Yeah, I bound that copy for you, it’s all yours.”

“It’s really good, Rafe. I’m serious. I know I don’t know about movies like you do, but the writing, the directions - I’m really impressed.” She complimented, loving the way he looked away out of embarrassment and blushed red. “You only started this in April or something, right?”

“Uh...yeah.” He lied, rolling off of her to look up at the ceiling when she narrowed her eyes to catch him. “Okay, fine. Um, you know that navy journal I carry around? I’ve been writing notes in there.”

“But I’ve seen you with that since last December.” She furrowed her brow, confused. “We didn’t say I love you for months after that.”

He shrugged, casting her a grin as she climbed onto him and pressed her head to his chest, snuggling close. He wrapped his arms tight around her, tracing patterns on her back lightly. “When you know, you know, I guess.”

“You sap.” She accused, poking her finger against her chest. “My character’s a bitch for the whole first quarter of the screenplay, I can’t believe you wrote that in.”

He laughed, tugging gently on the ends of her hair. “Asher argues right back, I guess it’s how you look at it. The character growth is important, though, they can’t just fall in love like that without conflict. Rule number one of storytelling.”

“Are you gonna produce it?”

“The screenplay? Nah. Well, I don’t know, my professor picks two out of the ten and then we produce them in the spring semester. He did, um, encourage me to enter it in some contest for students, so I submitted it recently, but yeah. Doubt he’ll pick it though.” He dismissed himself easily.

“Hey.” She flicked his chest. “Be more confident. I want someone really hot to play me. Like Megan Fox-caliber.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’m sure she’s in the film department’s tiny budget.”

“You have money.” She pointed out, smirking, and leaned up to kiss him.

“Not hire-Megan-Fox money. Besides, you’re hotter.” He met her lips first, shifting so his leg fell in between hers.

“We both know that’s not true, baby.” She raised her eyebrows, skeptical.

“It is true. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He kissed her again, hard, smiling against her lips. “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. 10/10, would bang.”

“Thanks for the Yelp review.” She giggled and rolled her eyes simultaneously. “For the record, I always thought you were hot, even if you were arrogant and annoying when we were growing up.”

“I’m glad we waited, both of us.” He threaded his fingers through hers and kissed the tip of her nose. “If we had just one hate fuck and then you got over me I think I’d be so sad.”

“You wouldn’t get over me?”

“I haven’t been over you since junior year of high school, sweetheart.” He pointed out, making her blush bright red.

“What happened with Brooklyn then?” She asked point-blank, feeling bold.

He scowled, pressing his hips against hers. “Do we have to talk about her? Because I have other ideas for topics of conversation. Literally anything else.”

“We don’t have to, no. I’m just curious.”

“I dunno. Good timing, I guess. It kind of started out of convenience, knowing both our families would get along, then turned into a little more.” He shrugged, teasing his thumbs over her hip bones and along the hem of her shirt. “Longest mistake of my life.”

“Hey. You didn’t know she was going to end up that way.” Sophie frowned, then her frown gave way to a smug smirk. “It’s fine, I was sleeping around back then anyways -”

“You’ve slept with one other person, Sophie -” He started with an exasperated sigh, laughing when her jaw dropped in indignation. “Technically, your body count is just two.”

“So’s yours!” She retorted, sitting up on top of him and crossing her arms.

“No. Still four.” He corrected. “And I’d like both of ours to stay that way.”

“So that’s a no to a threesome?” She teased, punctuating her question with a roll of her hips.

“If you think I’m letting another person touch you like I get to, you’re delusional.” He scowled, gripping her hips a little tighter to keep her firmly in place. “I don’t even like other guys looking at you at the bar.”

“You’re too jealous.” She chastised with a flip of her hair. “People are gonna look at me. I’m hot. Bangable, in your words.”

“First off, I was joking, and I’m pretty sure I did not say bangable -”

“You absolutely did! Might as well have called me a slut -”

He raised his eyebrows at her teasing tone, unamused. “Why, do you want that? ‘Cause if you do you can just ask.”

“No.” She pouted, moving off of him.

“Where are you going?” He reached out for her, tugging at the hem of her shirt. “C’mere, I want to snuggle.”

She smiled, endeared by the 6’3” boy in her bed asking to cuddle. “Okay. Just that though, we have that dinner reservation soon, the one downtown.”

He grinned when she crawled back into bed. She looped her arm around his waist, spooning him, and he sighed contentedly. “I’m so excited for those fancy drinks.”

“We can make fancy drinks at home, y’know. Just buy the alcohol and we can try it.” She nudged her nose against his neck, making him flinch and wiggle away for a moment.

“Not the same. $18 cocktails in the fancy glasses just hit different.” He flipped over so he was face to face with her and rested his arm over her waist, scratching little circles on her back.

“Mm.” She closed her eyes but gave him a nod. “Are you gonna order a dumb whiskey drink again then drink half my fruity drink?”

“You like whiskey.” He protested. “We were sharing.”

“Free alcohol is free alcohol.” She replied, her voice taking on a sleepy tone. “How fancy do I have to be for this place?”

“You can just throw on a dress.” He continued to scratch her back, loving her little hums of contentment. “We can take a nap before we go. Twenty minutes. You can do eyeliner and lipstick and whatever in the car.”

“Ideal.” She murmured. “Rafe?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“I really love that screenplay. You’re very talented. I mean it.” She squinted one eye open just so she could see his blush and shy smile.

“Yeah, well. I had good inspiration. Thank you, Soph, that means a lot.” He reached out and stroked his thumb over her cheek as he reminded himself how lucky he was to be with her.

“Always my favorite.” She whispered, leaning forward to peck his lips and cuddle closer into him. “I’m gonna sleep.”

“I love you too.” He murmured back. “Sweet dreams.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46

[soranihimawari]

Quadratic Formula

X = (-b±√b²-4ac)/ 2a

Let’s talk about how I have a thing about the tall/small relationships play into practical platonic relationships & the fact that reader chan is a fucking calculator on legs// or about the the one time Ushijima is called out for actually handling his new feelings around a classmate who helps him catch up in more than one way…

Semi & Satori make a bet when they notice the third chair in the top five of their class is rumored to take on improving their captain’s calculus average.

Word count: idek

Pairing: ushiwaka x tutor!reader// platonic to maybe something more(?)

You were in the student center for the fifth day in a row. You watch as your peers were paired off with different students from all walks of life who needed a little extra help with their studies. Some even went as far to gift friendship chocolates on both Valentines and White Days. Alas, with you being the one of the few that specializes in both trigonometry and foreign language (i.e. French was your language of choice since level four in elementary school), you were the only one without a study buddy this term. However, that was about to change when you are summoned to the faculty lounge by both your vice principal and the volleyball sensei-sponsor.

There was an argument brewing about how one of the regulars on the boys team was apparently falling a bit behind since training had been brutal in the mornings and his maths class was right at the end of the day. All other classes were full this term, without going into college prep, which given his latest setback f rom a worksheet with mostly red ink, you figured you were selected because your grades were always in the green.

“Excuse me,” you raise your hand. The adults in the room pause their insult throwing long enough to hear you’d like to give the nameless (burning out imminent) athlete a hand. You are handed a few of the exam answer sheets for the last three weeks, with the students name and ID badge number blacked out for privacy. Pursing your lips together, you let out a low whistle.

“Ms Remy?” The coach, who seems much more pleasant than the demon head coach, calls your attention. “What do you think?”

“I don’t mind helping your player catch up to speed sir,” you take the papers handing them back to him. “Can I get a copy of these please?”

The coach breathes a sigh of relief while the vice principal states the rules while you’re waiting for the copies to be made along with the map of the boys’ common area in the dorms on campus. Elsewhere, Ushijima eats his ramen with a little more tobasco sauce than recommended, causing the itch in his nose to be let out through a ruckus sneezing fit. The team asks if he’s ok, throwing napkins to their captain until Satori drops a pack of 24 hr non-drowsy allergy pills.

“Hay fever is around the corner, Ushiwaka,” the redhead begins. “Don’t want ya to get sick.”

A stuffy Ushijima just nods as he excuses himself from their table to take care of his runny nose in the men’s restroom. While he was away, the teacher sponsor enters the dining hall seeing as Ushijima, who is prominent in answering his emails promptly, hasn’t replied since his flurry of sneezes. The coach borrows Satori and Semi for a moment alone to fill them in on what the meeting was about.

“Remy-san doesn’t know it’s Ushiwaka?” Semi raises his brow.

Their teacher-sponsor nods, “not a word to anyone on the team, got it?”

“Hai!” Satori salutes poorly, but considering it’s part of his playful nature, the coach chuckles before ordering his bento to go.

“Oh this is gonna be fun,” Satori has a wicked smile.

Semi gives him a look of confusion.

“Y’know, ya think ya know a guy when he’s paired up with one of the few members of the student population who actually went two the same school since elementary,” Satori whispers nonchalantly. Semi stops walking immediately and when Ushijima returns to finish his ramen, the middle blocker and setter make a gentleman’s game out of it.

“Ok, we play Seijoh and Karasuno in two months from now, and we have that content exam in the middle of it, so what do you think?” Semi piques Satori’s interest. “How does one month LootCrate subscription sound. I heard this month’s music based loot and next is JJK…”

“Semi-kun, you got a deal. What are we betting on exactly?”

“Ushijima realizing he’s in love whether he spells it out on his own first or with Goshiki’s level of luck and the grace of Hades, Remy-chan caves first.”

They shake on the terms.

Meanwhile, you receive the email with the map from your dorms in the northwest corner of campus to the southeast common area for the boys. Your adjoining dorm mate texts you after hours asking if you know which member of team you’re tutoring yet. You send a text saying the coach and vice principal made you verbally say a “do not disclose”-esc statement.

From Kaori-cchi (9:50 p.m.): as long as he’s not like your obsessive ex-bf, then i suppose i got your back.

From Mdme. Rem (21:52): he wasn’t possessive; just gave off yandere vibes…and thnx girlie. ttyl

Your alarm is a jealous whore you think. Your eyes glare at the vibrating device angry that it disturbed your slumber. Does it help that you were worried your study methods were a bit lacking? Of course, but you think it’s just the nerves you exhibit when dealing with a new pupil—well, fellow student, if you were being serious. You gather your showering belongings and head to the women’s showers located in your building.

Lately, with the spring sports starting their training for Golden Week, you were a natural when it came to stamina since you’re seen sprinting to the boys common area. Today on the brunch menu was omurice featuring fried ham. You don’t really notice the stares in your direction as you hear your name from the table where a few of the sports team gathered together. Ushijima isn’t that hard to find, especially when his teammates start branching off until the final two stay to greet you. If they knew you were his tutor, they would have left, but you decide to cut these boys some slack.

“You’re paired with me Ushijima-san,” you smile, placing your books on the table. The formalities are what threw him off.

Ushijima makes his version of a puzzled face because surely he knew he didn’t need a tutor for the past couple of months. Yet, he’s hit a bump in the road: the stress must have gotten to him, you think. You brush off the rest of the stares he’s receiving until you open a number theories book.

“Paired for what? As far as I know, I have no projects due.”

Awkward. The air around you is awkward. You insist to stand to his right while other members of his team, i e friends, spare an empathetic glance. Except for—

“Remy-chan, right?” Semi gives you a shy smile, offering you a seat in front of where Ushijima is enjoying the last remnants of his breakfast.

“You should be a bit nicer,” Satori scolds his best friend. “Sensei sent them here to help you with your last quiz…”

Ushijima glass at his redheaded friend with an incredulous grimace. Surely the last game he played wasn’t his personal best, but at least they pulled win regardless. However, the academia side of plate seemed to have a minor set back. A crew of the third years in the club started to notice the more withdrawn aspect of his personality when stomping a study block with him. Ushijima prefers sciences and history over the arts and foreign language. Mathematics though? He sleeps with his word problems stacked neatly against the furthest side of his desk. And Satori, who’s been over e times for his weekly JUMP! Weekly back, noticed the trend.

Semi and you discuss to the book in your hands at the moment before he is called off to go to practice.

“Coach can’t really hold practice without a person to set the ball,” he says, causing you to smile.

“Run along, Semi,” you nod toward the awning, saying you’ll see him around.

The blonde nods before tapping the read blockers shoulders to end whatever side conversation he was having with the captain.

Fifteen minutes. That small quarter of an hour is all it took for you to call out the pretentious attitude of the number one ranked ace in Japan. Ushijima watches you carefully mark pages about the fundamentals of geometry before you turn to talk to him. Aloof. You were aloof and you don’t think he was this…shy around new people? His eyes are sharpened like he’s about to either one, insult you, or two, the one that you’ve heard about (never really wanting to find out), the look of restrained power. Jesus, he really is scary, you shake the thought out of your head.

“Ready to get started?”

“…?”

You shrug your shoulders as you begin to dig into your bag of tricks. A stenopad, mechanical pencils , worksheets, and a blank version of the exam from last time.

“I know this can seem daunting, but,” you nervously smiled to yourself than he. “I think, no, hope we could work well together?”

You ramble about theories and quantum mechanics so much so that you bring about the quadratic equation tying it to today’s first lesson. You go on for about another five minutes as you realize you’re stalling to save face. Maybe today was a bad idea to start. The team did have practice afterall…

Silence. It’s a silent stare off until you shake your head. This was a waste of time, but you are persistent in trying to sell the fact you really are trying to help a little more as time went on.

“…I don’t need your help.”

You stop your efforts right at the 14.25 minute mark. Your cheeks feel hot with embarrassment as you suck in your cheeks muttering an “I forgot how difficult it is to per-sway you Ushijima. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

You recover quickly, muscle memory packing up loose papers and the like. You are about to zip up the pen case and when your eyes meet, you sense a bruised pride in a flash before those beady moss green eyes go back to their natural state.

“I’m sorry,” he was taught to apologize for things that are his fault, even if they aren’t (or if he heard incorrectly). Since good parents’ split, he seemed to need the space in his head to continue providing a solid founding in the goals he sets himself up for. Sports isn’t your cup of tea as it is his, but there was a reason why he didn’t interrupt you shaking about theories and imaginary numbers: “if you find you like someone, you should listen and observe what they like. you’ll see more than just a person with a nice smile,” satori’s wires mixed with some of semi’s romanticism from their hangout last weekend floats in the back of Ushijima’s mind.

“Don’t misunderstand,” he flattens a palm on the table.

You raise an eyebrow at him precariously because you’re willing to listen when a smart asks, “out with it then,” slips out of your mouth. You’re not this rude, like ever. Must be the weekend in you, you suppose.

“You’re cute when you talk about quantum theory.”

Ushijima closes his eyes when a-holy shit- blushy smile is carved in his features. This confounding new development on your first day of trying to tutor him no less made you rethink your entire approach. To be fair, you think you broke Ushijima and are now trying to formulate a coverup excuse but you clearly couldn’t remember if everyone else within earshot is actively listening or ignoring this exchange. Thankfully it’s the later of the two.

“Eh?” you being a shaking finger to your face. “You think I’m cute when I talk about quantum mechanics?”

Oh, you’re going to push him over the edge just a smidge more to test your new theory. Be it as it may, Ushijima Wakatoshi is not known for his dating life, though through conjecture and rumors (even he himself had started one on his own by accident), is tall, handsomely tan with sunkissed freckles no one else sees up close, is making a solid attempt in trying to flirt with you. You may think he’s delightful or delusional, but you don’t really have a chance to recover after you voice your opinion about yourself a second time:

“Then I’m about to get so much sexier when I talk about the heat death of the universe,” you tease.

Ushijima looks down, then back up to you slapping a hand over your mouth. Your face is as red as the cover on your steno book before you let out a wry chuckle. Your eyes scream, ‘help me recover from this embarrassment,’ but your face is still flushed a bit, lips caught between your teeth. Studying would have to wait. Perhaps coming to know your students before you agree to tutor them like your senpais said at the end of last school term was a godly piece of advice.

“We could always start official tutoring hours tomorrow?” he suggests as you scrounge up the rest of your dignity from the non-existent plane it seemed to have been vacuumed to.

That was how you wound up here in the rooftop of the garden club’s greenhouse at dusk—again, for the third time that week. You come to discover how being surrounded by the garden after hours makes the stoic young man seem quite demure; you are a bit of yourself, he casually reminds you. The steno pad returns when you begin to write the steps on how to use the basic f o i l method prior to jumping straight to the next unit.

“So you do this,” you write out the first problem on the sheet for him. “Foil first and solve, ok?”

Ushijima chooses to spend more time with you, sometimes, like today, he chooses to get one part incorrect to buy some more time with you tomorrow. On others, like in the upcoming weekend, you see how intense he is when he’s focused on tackling the various iterations on the page before him.

It’s been about a little over three weeks now since you started your studying sessions: the first day was at the plaza in the math corridor; the second was in the main cafeteria during cram week; the third, where you present a goal in mind (the date of the make up exam highlighted in a square box) to get his grades back a little higher so he can ‘stop practicing by himself’ was offered at the cafe before city/neighborhood curfew was enforced. Around this time Satori and Semi were looking for any signs at all as week three was coming to a close. Sure, Ushijima is nice, but he is also bluntly honest, and though you don’t mind the occasional break in study time, you realize he is actually trying when he turns his phone off. The constant buzzing of Satori’s fast texts about teasing his captain is something of a godly manifestation of wanting to know how things with you are slowly improving.

“Sure, you’re acquaintances right now,” Satori said. He judges the way his ‘bestie’ tenses his jaw in feign annoyance. “But Remy’s your tutor, right?”

“Mm,” Ushijima nods.

Satori closes his web browser as to beat Semi to the punch in teasing the way Ushijima seems to have started stabbing (subconsciously) the grape on his tray. You were standing next to a few classmates who were discussing their weekend plans, trying to sell you on going to the karaoke bars with them, but you refute them all.

“Oh c‘ mom! You can afford one day without tutoring or studying, can’t you?” Your friends are whining and you don’t seem to notice the boys scattered across the middle of the cafeteria. Ushijima looks mad, you muse.

“Perhaps I can work something out?” you forcefully remind them of the exams being handed back.

“If you get the top score again, you’re coming!” your friend points a finger at you. “Even if I have to borrow my cousin’s car!”

“Can you even drive?”

You a skeptic.

“Yep,” she says expertly before waving off. “See ya this weekend yn-chan!”

You’re definitely screwed.

Meanwhile, Satori’s teasing just reached a new height when Semi and him both berate Ushijima, “for being hot for teacher.”

“Excuse me?” he is quiet when he is angry, more insulted than anything and Satori immediately shakes his head. Semi too, clearly seeing it as black and white, even if their captain almost made certain the grapes became jam.

Presently, in the garden by the magnolia tree, you glance over the notes and you see him thumb through the rest, amused determination written in his features. Lately, since the first time you cancelled your session, he seemed a bit more… possessive? Or was it jealousy? You choose to let his actions speak for themselves later that week. Things have gotten a bit out of hand when Goshiki and his idol bump heads at morning practice, then again at lights out, and the cherry on top? When you heard your lab partner say he plans to confess to you at the end of term, Ushijima calmly squishes the empty bottle in his hand before you politely decline the invitation to the wharf during the spring festivals.

“So what you’re saying is I have a chance,” your lab partner saves face, but he paused when he sees the menacing cloud formulating from the captain of the volleyball team. He was gauging your reaction as well.

“I told you already,” you say innocently enough. “I don’t have the time, I’m sorry.”

“He likes you.”

You tilt your head to one side confused, but feeling validated as soon as your week in review goes from 0-100km/hr. You don’t have time to properly react when your lab partner grips your shoulders to whisper in your ear.

“Watch his face, angel. Eyes up, cat.”

Your eyes are wide with rage and when your muscle memory from the brother monks (who taught you kung fu since elementary school) by your house in the seaside village kicks in—your fist collided with his ribs.

“Oh shit,” Satori winces and Semi looked pale. Ushijima, on the other hand, was stunned. He couldn’t move, but the ominous feelings around him were dissolved; you couldn’t disengage from the slime on the floor.

“Don’t touch me,” you threaten, crouching down to their level before spitting a few nonsensical words of advice.

The now ex-lab partner grovels at your feet amazed you practically gave him a fractured rib. The bruise speaks for itself two days later, but that is beside the point.

You walk a little taller, straighten your jacket, and before you turn on your heel you near the little weasel make a last ditch insult hurled at you—this time, insulting where a person like you leaned how to fight like a rabid dog.

“Allow me to reintroduce myself: my name is Remy loud and rebellious as the sea. Try me again and I will show you the rage I hold.”

There is acid in your veins and it transfers into your words as the fire in your eyes are glazed over in tears tears of anger which if this were anything but reality, would be steaming down your sunkissed cheeks.

“YN.”

Ushijima approaches you from the side, arms out stretched to appeal toward your calm sense of mind. It does matter a little when he, who rarely smiles, gives you a genuine one. He holds out his hand wondering if you’ll take it. There’s a few cuts from the lapels’ buttons, but you hold your wrist with the other.

“What?”

You seethe, almost sounding like a scared child. Pushing past him, you walk out of the hallway leaving a very confused duo and one enraged ace. One look had the guy on the floor standing straight up, walking to the nurses’ station on this floor.

Ushijima doesn’t see you for a week. You don’t come back to campus ground until the sixth day. Your hands are bandaged and your coverup on your collarbone is runny; the boy who tried your patience is thankfully expelled from there as for you? You were found guilty for defending yourself. You threw the punch, you were made the example of, even as far as being dismissed as a tutor over all. Lunch rolls around as far as you care to know, but when you nap instead, you don’t bother with the nonsense surrounding your incident.

In the club room for team sports, Satori and Semi fill in the gaps as they were doing damage control for those kouhai on the team that wanted to know why shit literally hit the fan about a week to the day. Ushijima comes to practice, more serious about why he couldn’t do anything better than watch you walk away: he knows you’re not usually angry like that, nor are you a tough-built child; no. He worries about you being alone for days at a time at your house where, if he was going to guess, you received parental discipline on top of what the school already suggests. Your phone conversations were drier; it hits Ushijima that he misses you studying with him. Your presence made a difference and now, now his team thinks you might have cracked their ace.

On a whim, you chose to watch practice that delightful afternoon. Your friends from before had your back and even vouched for an appeal for an investigation. Other witnesses were called individually to give their report. Fortunately, Satori and Semi were the ones who sided with you. Ushijima does wish he could do more, but receiving replies via text from you was enough to make him feel he did good part.

“Hey! Ushiwaka! There’s someone,” a first year manager points to the entrance of the gym they use. “Here to see you…?”

He nods, walking out of practice. The coaches don’t stop him because depending on how his countenance changes by the time he’s done talking to you outside, the practice will either be grueling or the switch focus today.

“I’m sorry,” you begin. “I’m sorry for losing my temper and you had to see that. I didn’t mean to scare you either-”

“Not scared,” he interjected. “Why would I be?”

You look up at him and there is a rueful expression on your face.

“Shouldn’t you be? I just punched my lab partner last week in the ribs for coming on to me when clearly I didn’t want to do anything else…?”

“Don’t cry.”

What is happening here? You went to apologize, like you were told. So does it really matter why you’re pulled into a one-armed hug by the monster ace? No. Does it calm you down enough to swallow a few heavy breaths? Yes.

“I’m here,” he holds you tighter. “I’m not going to let you walk away like last time.”

You nod as you let out everything that was building inside. There is a rage and fear in the way you speak that you guys stay outside for a while longer.

“Tell me about quantum mechanics,” you hear him say, and you, being the brilliant mind you are, repeat the fundamentals back to him. Whatever tears are spilled out of fear of a friendship devolving suddenly are caught being dried by calloused hands. You bite your lip from upturning to a Cheshire grin. Ushijima may be stubborn and driven into fulfilling the goals he set for himself, but he is also the type to know when to be gentler with handling your personal affairs.

“Come over after practice,” he says loud enough for you to hear.

“Eager to make me yours already? You really are hot for teacher,” you tease.

Ushijima furrows his brows saying he doesn’t understand why he keeps hearing this. You let out a lighter laugh meaning you’ll explain it some other time later. He reminds you to watch him before he excused himself to go back to practice. Funnily enough, you confess your eyes are always watching his form.

Hours later, you find yourself in a hell of your lean design: Ushijima, though still a little damp by the shower he took at the gym, walks side by side with you. Since there was no real reason as to why you were with him, when asked about it by the other members of the team, he simply answers, ‘to cheer up a friend.’ Imagine how serious you are when you decide that perhaps now is the right time to give home a piece of your mind—pushing you up against his closed door asking if you’re still afraid of what happens next.

“No,” your lips are teased by his curious finger trips. You are subsequently kabedoned by your host, who decides to blur the murkier lines of your existing relationship,

“Good,” he half says to himself as though you needed to validate anything else, yet that moment passes when you push yourself off said door. He breaks your falls by bringing you up to meet his lips. This wasn’t supposed to happen yet, you think, but considering you both recover fast, he wears a bashful mask. You don’t apologize, but you do obey him when he tells you to jump a little higher so he can hold you better. This is how you find yourself quietly accepting any sort of physical touch he offers.

“I’m here,” he grunts, a wicked grin forming.

“You can’t just tell me to ‘jump,’” You fire back. “Who knew you were such a tease…”

Ushijima is surprisingly a decent person in terms of asking for the things that he’s been meaning to do with you. Perhaps love of someone as strong if not stronger than himself is the cause for him to use his arms that support your waist and space behind your bent knees push you more against the plains of his broadened chest.

“Stop selling yourself short,” he clicks his tongue right before his forehead is rests against your uniform issued shirt. “I don’t like it when you do.”

Ushijima breathes a bit sharply before carrying you toward his side of the study area in his room. You listen to how he shows the wonders of what learned from you.

“Patience,” his voice tracks over your brow. “Is a virtue I have yet to learn.”

“Oh?”

You move a hand of yours away from his shoulders to cup his face, glancing between his hooded eyes, you are amused by this side of his closeness.

“Teach me.”

He kisses you more delicately than before. It isn’t rushed nor is it perfect; a bit rough, but that it’s uniquely a signature by the third time this happened, you lay into him more. There is an eagerness you tap into and the yearning ceases the second you find yourself carrying on in his bed.

“We should,” you think you hear yourself begin, yet you feel him hesitate.

“I know,” he nips at the exposed side of your neck. Your shirt and his are crumpled beneath the hands of the other, still a warmed hand, curiously respectful in some regard, lays atop your spine. Never wavering further until he feels the fabric of an undergarment he presumes is there for support. You, on the other hand, make every dip and curve pulsate in a wanton need to know this is real. Whatever the outside world will say about this high tensed moment, let them run their mouths. You’re still wrapped in a loose embrace while Ushijima recounts the incident and though this was nice, it really is, you reassure him, you confess you don’t know if this was a one time thing.

“YN, do you think that lowly of yourself?”

You look away, but he resigns himself to make you feel less apprehensive.

“You’re confident without trying,” he muses. “And you have a hell of a right hook.”

You bite back a laugh, saying perhaps it’s best to discuss this over breakfast hours. You don’t mind breaking a few rules, he figures out, when you eventually fall asleep. The warmth is suffocating comfortable and though your grip on his shirt loosens, his hold on you doesn’t. Not since you were able to find someone as steadfast as he.

One month and two days after you return to school you and Ushijima don’t really talk about that night. You leave it as a fluke in a flawed plan to make amends for your behavior earlier. You don’t really seem to be bothered by the fact he may have stolen a few firsts from you, but nothing really sexual happens yet, as it pars for the course. People who have high expectations of themselves are being scouted left right and center during the height of their club activities. Hence your friends from karaoke night invite you to the volleyball club’s game against both Seijoh and Karasuno.

Shit. You knew you were supposed to wake up earlier than you did, however when your friend insists that it’s ok to be a little late, you don’t think you’d almost miss the entirety of the game. Purple and white cheer the loudest while you quietly slip into the higher seats slightly to the left. To give yourself a bit credit, you chose to hide the striped colors you wear underneath a turtleneck. You’re not amused in the slightest as the final score is tallied. As the Seijoh team bows to their supporters, you are seen applauding their efforts. Considering you would have gone to where your friends from middle school also wound up, you are politely contrite as you remind them from the stands: “a battle well fought and lost is filled with room for improvement.” The team below gazes up at you, a few recognize you, others who didn’t just nod, watery smiles and all.

During post interviews after the teams cool down and regroup at the locker room, your friend chats with the team. The younger manager watches how his Senpai work the room until he notices their ace feeling a bit stumped.

“You didn’t know? Remy-san’s old friends all went to follow him. The pretty setter,” your friend speaks with an attuned front. “And our Remy-chan are close friends since they were little. The ace too. Apparently they grew up together…”

Elsewhere, you wander about waiting for the captains to finish their discussion. You wanted to console you two friends who once again lost to the better team. When you hear the cold words hand in the air, you make your presence know by a sudden squeak of your shoe.

“How dare you say such a thing,” you are angry. This is a different type and Ushijima knows this feeling. “Oikawa has gotten this far on his own and you ought to recognize his talent too. His instincts are much better than your pride because from where I stand, the only one who has earned his place is him.”

You grab your old friend’s hand and lead him away before Ushijima has time to process what the hell just happened.

“Rem?” He’s watched you leave ahead of him before and this isn’t what he had in mind for celebrating winning against Oikawa. Had he known or paid attention five minutes ago he would have chosen better words to hurl at your friend. In hindsight, the words Ushijima chose to say were taken personally by you meaning that if he insulted Oikawa, he might as well as insulted you too.

“She likes you too,” someone said. A fan maybe? Ushijima disappeared around the corridor long enough to hear your voice calm down a pissed of captain.

“Oikawa Tooru!” you use your voice slap some sense back into your friend. “You did well, ok? I have to leave soon, but we should get tea sometime. I think auntie needs a visit too…”

“Take care of yourself,” he reminds you.

You nod, understanding why he had said that. You regroup at the entrance of the arena. Members of the volleyball team turn to look at you who seemed to be a bit too chummy with the other team. Satori nods in your direction after speaking with his best friend, who for lack of better words, narrows hold eyes perplexed by you. Semi clasps his shoulder saying that he would get worked up if his girlfriend would have done the same thing.

“Oh come on, you said ‘if,’” Satori laughs.

“But Remy isn’t mine,” Ushijima abruptly states the fact.

“What? No way!” Satori shakes his head.

“I thought you were together by now,” Semi mutters.

The bet they had agreed to ages ago now expands to a few other members of the team. Unfortunately or fortunately for you, you seemed to be just as oblivious as their captain. You tend to push the blurred lines at school, however you could never get a full read on Ushijima’s actions. Like the one time he was seen headed to the garden club’s plant sale: he bought a mini bouquet which when arranged like that, meant unyielding friendship; then you, during the fall bake sale, the entomology club asked you to hand out a few fun facts about dormant ladybugs who hibernate; the final one, that confused the rest of the population (ok, maybe like half the team) was the fact you came to practice one day wearing one of their captain’s old shirts, which mind you, after you explained time and time again the laundry room in the dormitories where you stayed were out of commission (circuit issues).

“Ushiwaka,” Satori sighs with a catlike expression. “Tell yn-san how you feel. I’m sure they’d accept your confession one way or the other…”

Ushijima blinks a few times, he nods as though he understands—clearly he doesn’t, but he got the spirit.

During the ride back to campus, you were able to secure a seat next to your friend, who was curious about a few things. The first being the rumor you were secretly dating someone on the opposite team…

“Oikawa and I are childhood buddies,” you sigh exasperated. “Our fathers went to the same college! He’s as close to me as my brother down the street and around the corner!”

Although you whispered the last part, your friend has a skeptical smirk rising. You were getting worked up by a comment as a test. Your cheeks were flushed a bit by the question to begin with and it doesn’t help same said friend is the one who tipped off the team about you coming to visit practice in a rather amusing outfit. Shiratorizawa’s gates come into view from the east side, the team already disembarked and began their post-game meeting in the gym.

Your friend walks with you to the cafeteria where you spend a few more days of your early suspension making the togo hot bentos. A few of the ladies there and volunteers on the weekend came to take a likening to you. On game days, like today, they often leave out free snacks and sodas. You remind them some students maybe allergic to chocolate, like yourself, so they added more savory or sour sweets. Your friend watches you grab a pack of nilla wafers and lemon meringue bars. Together, you show your friend where you often used to spend your time contemplating future.

“Did Ushijima confess yet or what?”

You choke on a crumb. They hand you a water bottle.

“Come again?”

“You really don’t know?”

You shake your head, “you say next to me for about three years! If you were me, would you be asking me the same question and expect you to get it right?”

Your friend laughs at your outburst, concurring with your statement.

“Thank you,” you stick your tongue out. “Now explain it to me in terms I can understand…? Maybe?”

They punch the bridge of their nose saying this better be worth their weight in snacks for a week. The bribe works, but again, you don’t really have a sense of urgency as you did before.

“…I suppose with all the time you spent together made each other feel at ease. You’re good at explaining the quadratic formulas to someone like Ushiwaka, who is a strict by-product of his upbringing… what I’m trying to say is you should give him a chance to be a little more-?”

“Romantic?” You suggest. Then suddenly, it clicks in your head: catching each other in the hallway nodding or smiling, hell even him being a bit presumptuous in saying a brief hello running into you after turning in his work for a different class seems different yet the same; your personal locker was filled with small scraps of paper with little fun facts he stayed up one night rewatching Ant-Man with Satori asking if this theory or that equation would work in real life (suffice to say you and Ushijima connect with cinematic mathematics, as odd as that may be); and it dawned on you why he’s being so possessive lately…

“Get it now?” You friend has s glint on their eyes as you nodded. The optometrist’s machine with the various lenses in the theater of your mind stops clicking because you finally understand the bigger picture to what made your old study partner uniquely him.

“But why didn’t he say anything? This is all conjectures at this point and seemingly pointless fodder to give the students something else to talk about …”

“Are you that afraid of falling in love, Rem?”

You glance down between the lemon bar and your shoes. Your silence speaks volumes and as your friend stands to head back early, you remind them why you grew up in a monk’s temple: “love isn’t supposed to hurt.”

They nod, mentioning if that were the case, you should stop whatever is making Ushijima (and by default a lot of other students) like you through their kaleidoscopic eyes.

“It’s not fair to him if you don’t feel the same,” they say. Gauging your flustered appearance, they smirk more to themselves.

Dusk rolls around by the time coach calls practice to a close. After you showered and donned an old gi you wore to the temple, you send a text to the captain of the volleyball team. You tack on a, ‘don’t worry. Nothing serious’ after the four word statement which could either make or break your friendship you just solidified. Ushijima doesn’t tend to be very apprehensive often, but he does have a rather odd stare whenever he glances at his phone in the lockers bench.

“Trouble in paradise?” Satori asks.

“I do not know,” Ushijima answers.

“So serious,” his friend imitates his stare. Judging by the quiet slowly setting in as their fellow teammates chose what to do for the remainder of the weekend, Satori makes a general suggestion: “to the commons to watch the classic His Girl Friday.”

Semi knows that name. Practically everyone in the will they won’t they gambling group are celebrating a bit too early because no one would bet they would figure it out on their own: bless their hearts as someone would say. Ushijima is the last to leave, turning off the lights after making sure the gym is locked both on the inside and outside (same deadbolt).

You wait for him on the roof of the science wing. How quaintly iconic for someone who actively chooses not to read shojou manga that you chose the roof after your talk with your friend. They pointed it out with a laughing emoji. You tell them you’d explain what happens in a day or two. Although when asked why that roof a few minutes prior, you remind Ushijima the garden is closed for the time being since the glasses fit the greenhouse of being reinforced for the winter. You stick your phone in your pocket the moment you hear him prop the door open.

“Yo,” you greet. Your palm is raised in a peaceful wave. In your head, you keep useless facts about how he genuinely looks at you with a troubled brow. He asks if you’re ok, you answer appropriately and he does the same.

“Ushijima-san,” you take a step forward. The bag he brought with him acts as a backup door stopper. “Do-do you like me?”

Ah. That is why you wanted to speak with him, right? You can tell he knows what you mean but he doesn’t go about answering it right away.

“You don’t have to answer right no-”

“Yes.”

You freeze.

“Yes I do,” he repeats a bit more confidently now. Your back of your hands feel hot when you press them against your cheeks. He wants to laugh, but knowing he could make you this unsteady, he figured he relishes in it. His hand is steadily holding one of your wrists and pulling it away from your face; it’s an awkward way of holding up hand, but he doesn’t mind.

“So stop whatever you’re thinking about and just-mmf?!”

You’re about to ramble and he doesn’t care when he smiles a bit wider this time around. You don’t care that his habit he learned from him vexes you so. Your lips meet upon the shine of Polaris in this hemisphere. Ushijima has been curious to find out how well you can listen to him when he feels your return the favor; you’re accurately listening to the way the tension leaves your body the seconds thereafter with your other hand rising up to clutch on to his jacket. He’s much taller than you, so at this point, when you stand on your toes, you feel him let go of your wrist to help bring you higher like before. Ushijima is strong, but compared to you, you’re much lighter and neither be nor you can be bothered to care. Not now, when he only breaks from your lips to hold you the way he’s been been meaning to since the first time.

“Ushijima?” You’re about to ask him something stupid, aren’t you? That’s why you’re breathing so hard, not that he kisses you breathless.

“Wakatoshi,” he corrects, pecking at your lips with a gentle nudge.

“Missed this,” you confess. “Missed you.”

“I know. So did I,” his voice is lower than normal.

This time, he meets you more than halfway when the electricities of your kiss ignited something in him; your tongue forces his mouth open as you teach him hope to fall further into you. Your hand runs through his darkened locks as his own support your neck, pushing you back into him. The air is knocked out of his lungs when you tilt your head to one side a bit more, throwing your balance off, but he doesn’t let you fall; no he won’t, so his right arm which was on the small of your back moves under the back of your knees to literally sweep you off your feet. You don’t dare look anywhere else but up. Your left hand presses against his chest, a welcoming grace walked over his features.

“I’ll hold you for as long as you let me,” he is surprisingly coy considering he’s the one who hold you like a tired child again. You don’t need to be coddled, you know this, but the words he says dons a new meaning when he looks at you with a desire you think he only had reserved for things he’s passionate about, you make the connection.

“Smooth,” you tease. “Good thing I like you then, huh?”

“Mm.”

Straightening out his posture he chuckles when you make another comment. The stoic and the empiricist find themselves still tangled by the limbs, but his arms always were a source of comfort. At least now once the mutuality of your situationship has turned into a white shade of pale, you relax resting an ear to his sternum.

“Ya’know, if you keep me up here, we’d both miss dinner,” you murmur. The comforting ministration of running your hand through his hair pauses.

“I’d rather skip to straight to dessert, sweetheart.”

He playfully bites your cheek to see your blush rush across the innocent mark.

“Oh my god. Who taught you that?”

You glance up at him wide eyed and all, promising to beat up Satori for insinuating such a thought. Ushijima chuckles when you burrow your head against his shoulder. You’d find out why soon enough when you go back to your room.

Two days later, when you come to sit in practice with the results of the latest make up maths exam, you hand the answer sheet to their coach. Without even thinking, you automatically wave toward the side of the net of the three on three match where your study partner stands.

::Results after two months::

USHIJIMA. W || Trignometry 86/100

SETSUNA. M || free food for a month (Thnks Rem!)

SATORI. T || WINNER (remy caves first)

SEMI. E || LOSE (4000¥ per subscription box)

[callsign-mischief]

The Gift of a Weasley Sweater is a Powerful Thing [F.W.]

Day 23 prompt of ‘A Very Harry Potter Christmas’ : ‘Weasley Sweater’

Thank you so much to @jamilelucato and @whack-ed for letting me participate in this writing challenge! I am so sorry it is extremely late, please forgive me. Hope you like it!

Fred Weasley x Female!Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: Mention of fighting, Umbridge, Umbridge’s using that quill, George being mean, a few cuss words, mention of  “bloodtraitor” *if I missed anything that should be put into the warning, please let me know!* 

Word Count: 6.5k (so sorry!)

As the Christmas holiday was quickly approaching and many students were preparing to leave the comfort of Hogwarts to spend time with their respected families, it was becoming increasingly normal to see different love-sick couples scattered about the castle basking in each other's presence to soak up every last ounce of time they could before being separated by the long vacation. What wasn’t normal, however, was seeing Fred Weasley spending any, and almost every, spare second he had with a girl doing the exact same thing. And to make it even more unusual, a Slytherin girl! 

It was a few days before Christmas break and George Weasley has had enough of seeing his brother act like a lovesick fool.

“I do not know what is going on in that head of his but I’m right ‘bout to take my beaters bat and knock some sense into him. Thank Merlin she’s not wedged her way into coming home with us!” he huffs sending silent daggered glares toward his twin brother sitting a few feet down the way at the Gryffindor breakfast table with his serpent of a girlfriend nestled into his side. He couldn’t stand the sight. How did Fred Weasley, a proud Gryffindor of all people, become entranced with none other than a snake? It just didn't make sense! 

From across the table, Lee Jordan casts a glance up towards the inter house couple before returning to face the boiling redhead sitting across from him. “Honestly George, I don’t know why you hate her so much, you've never even actually met her! She is actually quite nice y’know? She helped me escape Snape once, it was brilliant!” 

“She’s a Slytherin, Lee! The whole lot of them can't be trusted…” he grumbles, taking a quick bite of his slice of toast before sipping his pumpkin juice and clearing his throat. “I don’t know what game she's playing but I’m gonna find out what it is. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Lee could understand where the boy in front of him was coming from. Fred had never taken a liking to any Slytherin house member before, no matter who they were, up until the week before the end of the previous school year when you had transferred to Hogwarts from Beauxbatons. “Just give her a chance George. You never know, she could be genuine in her love or whatever she feels for him and not be as bad as you think!” 

On top of what George, and almost everyone else at Hogwarts, was already putting up with this school year (aka Professor Umbridge terrorizing the school and you know whos return creating chaos amongst the wizarding world) George didn’t want to add having to be civil with a snake to his list of things to deal with. 

“Yeah...guess not but still! She has not approached any of us, his siblings, to get to know us and they have been cozied up since she got here last semester! In my book, that's already a bad sign.” he frowns looking at the couple again. 

Meanwhile down the table, the two lovesick teenagers are conversing amongst themselves, oblivious to the pointed looks from her boyfriend's twin.

“So I have Ron, George, and Ginny’s gifts all wrapped up and ready to be handed out...and I was thinking, maybe I could come up to the common room later after lessons and give them out? What better time than to finally let me meet them and get to know them than Christmas!” she asks, voice dripping with excitement and hope. 

A grin graced his lips as he admired her excitement. “That sounds like an excellent idea, love, but with Umbridge, I don’t think it’s safe to be going into others common rooms.” 

“I really would love to officially meet them, Freddie. We’ve been dating for three months and you haven’t introduced me to any of them. They’re your siblings, part of what makes you,you! Especially George. I mean come on- he’s your twin! Your other half! And when has Umbridge terrorizing the school ever stopped you from breaking the rules? I can come up and watch them open presents, maybe stay the night so I don’t get caught sneaking back to the dungeons….we can spend some time in the common room after everyone’s gone to bed?” you giggle playfully.  

“You had me at ‘stay the night’!”

Another giggle slips past your lips as you peck his lips before rising from the bench. “I thought you would like that idea. I am off to see Professor Snape before my potions lesson starts, I will see you later in Transfig, yeah?”

Fred nods quickly, leaning up to peck your lips once more before you turn and strut out of the Great Hall. He watches you go with that same dopey smile on his face and his eyes swirling with pure adoration. He was in love. 

After a hefty handful of morning classes, a quick lunch with friends, Transfiguration with Fred (whom of which you got to spend no time with due McGonagall partnering you with other people) and one intense charms lesson, it was finally time for your favorite part of the day; your free period. You weren’t sure how you got so lucky to have a free period at the end of the day but you definitely weren’t going to complain. 

Normally you would spend the free period in the Slytherin common room, on the Quidditch pitch practicing, or in the Room of Requirement (which had quickly become yours and Fred’s spot when he decided to skip afternoon lessons), but today you decided to change things up and direct yourself to the library. You had spent your fair share of time amongst many stacks of the old, dusty books for studying purposes and to grab different for-fun reading material but hardly ever did you come in here to spend your free time. 

Upon entering, you quickly set your course for the small ‘Muggle Fiction’ section that had been added in recent years, in search of a new adventure to lose yourself in. Your study partner, Hermione was the one to actually introduce you to the section and recommend a few novels to try reading and you turned out loving them all. Despite being a pureblood and having the nasty ‘I hate everything Muggle’ stereotype follow you around everywhere like a shadow, your heart couldn’t help but get excited about Muggle literature, your favorite genre so far being Romance.

Once you have made your pick of entertainment, you gravitate your way to a back corner nook of the library to get comfy-that is until you see the back of a familiar mop of fiery red hair fluttering between shelves before plopping down at a table with his books. 

Having not been able to contain the excitement of seeing your man (even though he should be in potions), you quickly divert your course to him, staying quiet with a beaming grin on your face. Once close enough behind him, you reach out, playfully covering his eyes with your hands blocking his vision from the herbology book he had been scanning through. 

"Guess who, Freddie." You giggle. 

"What the bloody hell? Get off of me!"

Your eyes went wide in horror upon hearing the voice of the man who was definitely not your boyfriend!

"Oh, Salazar, I'm so sorry! I thought you were Fred from the back!" 

George stood up from his seat, turning to you with a piercing glare, "You should really make sure you know who you are approaching before you touch them!" 

He hadn't completely yelled at you but the angry tone and rise in his voice made you want to nearly cry. 

 You cast your eyes to the side, the amount of complete embarrassment you felt had your face feeling as though it was on fire. "I..I know, and again I'm really sorry about that. I- I'm uhm...I'm (Y/N), by the way...Fred's girlfriend." You look back to him, introducing yourself properly for the first time. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you George." 

"I can't say the same for you, snake." 

You recoil at the name, "What did you just-" 

"You heard me, a snake. That's what you are, clearly. Whatever love spell you have my twin under, you need to end it, and end it now." 

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "What are you talking about? There is no spell. I wouldn't do that to Fred, or anyone for that matter! How can you stand there and accuse me of something like that when you don't even know me?" 

“Don’t think I know you, do you? You're a stuck up, entitled, conniving witch whose family only cares about things as ridiculous as blood purity and money. Everyone knows what kind of people you are. You and Fred have been dating for months and you haven't approached any of his siblings to get to know them. And what’s more is that over the summer you didn't even want to come to the Burrow to spend time with his family; it was always him leaving to meet you. What does that say about what kind of person you are?"

"You don't know a thing. That was not because of me! That was always Fred's choice, I wanted to-" 

"No, don't try to seem all innocent now. You don’t want anything to do with us and we certainly don't like you. Now, if you'd excuse me, I best be leaving."

Before you could get another word out, George turned and collected the books he had grabbed, walking away to the front of the library and out its doors. 

*

*

After your encounter with George in the library this afternoon, your day had only gotten worse.  

You had attempted to break up a fight between two of your younger Slytherin female students but you had ended up getting elbowed in the face, leaving you with a small black eye. Yet before you had the chance to visit the Hospital wing, you were summoned to Umbridge's office.

What had been intended as a “friendly chat” -the pink toads words, not yours-, upon seeing your forming black eye when you stepped into her office, you were dished up a detention for “unacceptable display of muggle dueling from a prefect”. You tried to explain the situation and what had happened but it only seemed to aggravate the woman more. She implemented your detention immediately- the punishment being having to write lines. Instead of writing lines for the said cause of your detention, you were made to write lines for "associating with a blood traitor below your class grade". The way she talked about Fred made your blood boil with rage but you didn’t want to make your situation any worse than it was so you kept the angry words and insults for the woman to yourself.  

And finally to top off  your terrible day, you had received a letter from your parents stating that they would be spending the Christmas holiday in a tropical paradise while you were to stay at Hogwarts, alone.  The day was turning out to be too much to handle and all you wanted was Fred. But with him nowhere to be found, you took to locking yourself in an abandoned classroom in the dungeons, crying out your frustrations. With your eye swelling, your hand stinging like crazy, and your chest aching knowing that Fred's family already hated you without meeting you, you felt completely miserable.

After what had seemed like hours, you finally managed to get your hysterical sobs under control to only getting small hiccups ever so often. Your eyes stung from the hours of repetitive rubbing away of tears and you could only imagine what you looked like. Breaking from your ball-like position in the corner of the room, you rise from the chilled ground, stretching your aching limbs as you take a glance at the small watch on your wrist. You see that dinner had started almost half an hour ago. With a sigh, you emerge from the dungeon’s classroom making your way up to the Great Hall. 

When you enter through the hall's double doors, you immediately scan the Gryffindor’s table for the man you have come to love. You spot him quickly as he's waving his arms around wildly with a wide grin on his lips, seeming to be telling a crazy story to the surrounding group of his friends made up of George, Ron, Harry Potter, your study partner Hermione, and Lee Jordan. You can't help the way your eyes fill with nothing but pure love seeing him in his element; entertaining people and making them laugh and smile. Your eyes cut to his twin sitting beside him and your face falls. 

In that moment, his harsh words from earlier this afternoon ran through your head on repeat like a broken record you couldn't stop. You never wished for anything more than to meet Fred's family and have them approve of you and your relationship but with the way things were going, that would never be anything but a wish. 

You b-line for the Slytherin house table, taking a seat next to your best friend. As you start to shovel food onto your empty plate, his eyes fill with concern. 

"Blimey, (Y/L/N)! What in Salazar’s name happened to you."

You pause and give him a quick pierced glance before resuming to fill up the plate of food. "Do not start with me Zabini. I've had a rough day." 

"I can tell by that black eye of yours. Did Weasley do something he shouldn't have to make you cry? Because you know I will-" 

You crack a sad grin at his over protectiveness but let out a sigh, "N-no, he didn't do anything...he's great. It's just...I don't know.." you trailed off. You didn't want to out George and have him face Blaise's wrath, but how could you keep the day's events away from your best friend?

Blaise noticed your hesitation and rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, "hey, if you don't want to talk about it right now, you don't have to but I'll be here for when you're ready and have the right words." 

You give him the best side hug you can manage as your eyes begin to prickle with a few tears. "I know and thank you Blaise. I don't know what I'd do without you." 

He returns the hug with a smile, "probably be miserable, I suppose. But I meant what I said. Just because I support you and Weasley's little love fest doesn't mean I won't hex him into next year if he hurts you." 

You shove his shoulder playfully before returning back to plate to enjoy your meal. 

As always, dinner was delicious and you stuffed your stomach full with too much dessert. You rise from the bench along with your fellow Slytherin's and begin to trickle out of the great hall. As you are walking between Theo and Blaise, a hand reaches out and grabs your arm from behind, spinning you around. You're met with a pair of familiar soft and warm lips being placed on your own. Before you can respond to the kiss, your boyfriend pulls away with a smirk leaving you with a small pout.  

“Don’t go pouting, love. You will get more kisses soon, are you ready to go? Hell- what happened to your eye?!” he cups his hands around your face, inspecting your eye closely.

 “It's nothing, don't worry. Where are we going?”

“You don’t remember? You were going to stay the night after you handed out gifts to Ginny, Ron, and George. Which by the way, I've got to tell you, I’m a little peeved off I’m not getting my gift yet and I’m your loving, devoted boyfriend who adores you and who worries about you.”

You rub your neck nervously, looking away from him. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day and I forgot..”

His eyes scan your face, his frown only growing deeper “I thought you were excited, love. I didn’t think you would forget something like this. What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t help it. Hearing Fred ask ‘what’s wrong’ after the day you’ve had, unleashed a new wave of fresh tears. 

“Woah, woah, love what happened? Why are you crying, did I say something wrong?” he quickly encases you in his warm embrace, pressing your head gently to his chest to muffle your sobs. Your body shakes horribly as you try to keep yourself from crumbling right then and there in the hall in the presence of other students. 

He looks ahead to see Theo and Blaise have stopped in their places, noticing your absence and are now looking at him holding your distraught figure. He sends a pleading look to Blaise, desperate for him to give a clue as to what was wrong but Blaise only shook his head and frowned in response.  He knew Zabini was your best friend and that you told each other everything so when even he didn’t know what was wrong, Fred began to worry even more. 

As Fred held you to his chest, he gently brushed back your hair with his fingers a couple of times hoping it would calm you. Bending down slightly so as to not scare you, he whispers into your ear, “C’mon, love. Let’s go up to my room and we can cuddle until you’re ready to talk. How does that sound?”

You nod your head slowly, breathing deeply as you can as you step away from him. His heart shattered seeing your eyes so puffy and bloodshot. Gently wrapping an arm around your waist, he guides you up the moving staircases to the portrait sealing the Gryffindor common room. Fred mutters the password and once there is enough space for you both to walk through, he softly pulls you along, hoping that the room will be empty or at least empty enough so you will be comfortable walking through. To his relief, the only people who have opted to stay out in the common room were George, Lee, Ginny, and the Golden Trio. George is the first to notice his twin's sudden presence.

“There you are Freddie, been wondering where you went off to. Hopefully not to see that-”

“Shut up, George. Do you and Lee mind staying down here for a while? We would like to be alone for a bit.”

Ron pipes up from his spot on the carpet by the roaring fireplace. “We?!” 

Just then, George and Ginny’s head snap to Fred, only now noticing you curled into his side, face pressed into his shoulder. 

“WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?! She-”

“Not now George! You’re my twin and best friend and I love you but please don’t start right now, mate. Just give us some time, please.” Fred begged. 

George backed away with a scowl before nodding. Fred glances at Lee who gives him an encouraging nod with a soft smile. With a sigh of gratitude, he thanks his roommates, guiding you to the stairs. With a flick of his wand, he says the counter charm to keep the stairs from changing and walks you up.

Once you're in the safe space of his room, he sits you on his bed as he couches down by the end of it rummaging through his trunk. Once he finds what he's looking for, he stands facing you handing you a small stack of clothes. 

"Here, sweetheart. These will be more comfortable for you than your uniform. And look, I even picked out your favorite sweater of mine." 

You let out a weak smile, leaning up to plant a loving kiss on his lips. He returns the kiss, cradling your face carefully between his hands. Fred is the one to break the kiss, placing his forehead softly against yours. 

"Let's get changed, love." 

With a final nod, you pull away and stand, moving to the opposite of the room to change giving Fred his own space. Once you're both changed, you walk back to his bed with your uniform gently folded in your hands. Fred takes the stack from you before gesturing you to get in bed. You happily oblige and wait for him to get I'm with you. Once he settles in, you get comfortable in your favorite cuddling position. You being the little spoon with Fred cradling your body to his front.

No words are spoken for the first half hour. Fred doesn't rush you to talk, only softly brushing his hands up and down your arms in slow comforting strokes. Once you feel comfortable and ready to talk, you turn over to face the loving man behind you. You wrap an arm around his waist pulling your body flush against his, burrowing your head into his chest. 

Fred let out a gentle chuckle, squeezing our waist a little tighter. “Are you ready to talk now, love?”

“I ha...frrible ay…” 

Fred let out a deafening howl of laughter. “I have no clue what you just said, do you mind repeating that more clearly for me, sweetheart?”

You pulled away from his chest, “I said that I had a terrible day.”

His joyful expression was quickly replaced by one of alarm. “Why what happened?”

‘Here goes nothing…’ You thought. 

With a deep breath you begin. “It wasn’t so bad at first. Double potions went okay, lunch with Blaise and Theo was good. Transfig sorta fell short because McGonagall split us up but that was okay too, nothing to ruin the day. It all started in my free period.” you stopped, beginning to feel nervous and nauseous . “W..we always say that honesty is the best policy...right?”

He confirms your question with a small dip of his head. “Of course”

You continue on, “I went to the library today to find a new Muggle romance book to read and well...before I could pick one that I liked, I thought I saw you weaving in and out between the bookshelves. I got excited seeing who I thought was you and so I ran up behind him and put my hands over his eyes like how I do with you and well…”

Fred knew where this was going and he instantly began to feel awful. 

“It was George, as you could have guessed and needless to say he did not appreciate that. Of course I apologized, but he was still so angry and not just about me touching him. He seemed to be mad at me, as a whole person. He accused me of having you under a love spell and said that he knew what kind of person I was because of my family. Told me I was entitled and stuck up because I haven’t approached him or Ron or Ginny to get to know them nor did I visit the Burrow to spend time with your family this summer. I tried to tell him that me not coming to your home or meeting your family wasn’t my choice but he didn’t want to hear it.” you sobbed, letting the building tears in your eyes fall freely. 

If Fred didn’t feel terrible before, he sure as hell did now! He knew that it was long overdue for you to meet his family but just when he got the nerve to introduce you, he couldn’t. While Fred was a very confident man in many aspects, your lifestyles were complete polar opposites and it oftentimes left him feeling inadequate. While you live a life of luxury, Fred and his family oftentimes struggle to make ends meet. While Fred’s family is thought of as a full lot of blood-traitors, your family name is highly admired and respected amongst the Wizarding community. Now, the Weasley boy knew such trivial things didn’t matter to his girl, but the worry he had of you leaving him once you dived in deeper to what made Fred, Fred was just too much to take the risk. 

Fred couldn’t even begin to be mad at George for what he said to you because he was too busy being angry at himself. He was the reason this happened. He was the one who kept you from meeting his family. He was the one who would reject your wishes to spend time at the place he’s called home all of his life and with the people he loved more than anything. He made you look like you didn’t want anything to do with his family when in reality, you wanted nothing more than for his family to adore you almost as much as Fred did.

“Baby I am so so sorry about all of this. George had no right to say that to you but he wouldn’t have if I had just gotten over my own insecurities. I promise I will make things right, love.” his solemn expression broke your heart and made you cry even harder. 

Wiping your eyes hurriedly, you shake your head. “That’s not even the worst of it! I got this stupid black eye from trying to break up a petty fight between two younger girls from my house, and then when I wanted to go see Madam Pomfrey, I was summoned to Umbridge’s office. One look at my eye and she gave me a detention of writing lines with that horrid quill of hers and my hand hurts so bad! And then on top of everything, my mum sent me a letter this morning saying that she and dad will be going somewhere for Christmas while I stay at Hogwarts instead! It was just one thing after another and when I couldn’t even find you, I broke down. Ended up locking myself in a classroom to cry, it was awful. That’s why I was late to dinner.”

“That bloody woman used that damned quill of hers on you?! I swear, I will make that vile woman regret ever using that on you! Let me go see if Hermione has anything to help with the scarring.” 

Before he could get out of bed, you wrapped your arms around him tighter, “No! Don't bother her about it, I just want to be with you right now. Don’t leave, just stay.” 

It was hard for Fred to contain the anger he had raging through his body but he gave in to your request.  He settled back into his position, pulling you in tighter by your waist. “I am so sorry all this happened to you today, sweetheart. I promise, the first thing tomorrow, I will make things right. I will owl mum and tell her you will be coming home with me for Christmas and then I will face my siblings and explain everything to them. Then once I’m done there, I will make that pink toad wish she never set foot into this school.”

By now the tears had stopped falling, leaving you to the occasional sniffle. “Can we just go to bed now? I’m tired.”

Fred snuggles down deeper into bed pulling his heavy crimson duvet up around you both, tucking you in. “Let’s sleep. Tomorrow will be better”

You wish Fred had been right. No sooner than you were both peacefully asleep, you had been rapidly alerted awake by Professor McGonagall busting into the dorm room. You and Fred had both sprung up to see her shaking George awake. When she made her way over to Fred’s bedside, she paused in shock seeing you there.

“Miss (Y/L/N), what in Godric’s name are you doing in Gryffindor tower? And in the boys dormitories no less!” 

“I-I.. well.. You see, what had happened was-” 

“Never mind that, we don’t have time. I need you and mister Weasley to come with me immediately.”

Once you were all out of bed and met with a disheveled Ginny, the four of you were guided back to the Headmaster’s office and upon entering, you all see Harry looking distraught. 

Ginny was the first to speak out, “What’s going on Harry? Professor McGonagall said you saw dad hurt-”

Dumbledore answered the girl before Harry had the chance. “Your father has been injured doing some work for the Order of the Phoenix. I am sending you all to Sirius’s house by portkey instead of the Burrow, where you will meet your mother. But we must hurry before Umbridge is made aware you all are out of bed. Hurry now, all of you.” 

Immediately you all gathered around the kettle you would be using to transport you and waited for the countdown from Dumbledore. On the count of three, you all placed your hands on the portkey and instantly you felt the pull behind your navel and a rush of wind before you were met with the ground of a...kitchen? 

Before you could comprehend anything, into the kitchen came Sirius Black. You weren’t entirely sure what to make of seeing the man in the flesh but looking at him as he spoke to Harry and the Weasley children, there was no way he was this “mass murderer” you had read to believe. After a small riff between the twins and Sirius about staying put instead of rushing to St. Mungo’s, he offered everyone up a butterbeer (which you graciously accepted) to calm the nerves. When you all had received the small letter from Mrs. Weasley, Sirius suggested that everyone try to obtain some rest so one by one, each of you filtered off to catch some sleep once you were finished with your respective butterbeers. You and Fred go off together to find a couch big enough for the both of you, quickly settling into deep sleep.

*

*

*

In the days that followed upon your arrival, you had finally met Mrs. Weasley and although you were seeing her at a tough time, she was thrilled to meet you and have you around for Christmas. Things were a bit tense with Fred’s siblings given the state of things, but you didn’t want to make what they were going through worse so you gave them their space. With your free time you had got to know Sirius and seemed to get along well given the many similarities between the two of you. You had also learned about the Order of the Phoenix and found that his home was made the Order’s headquarters. And then on the day the Weasley family was heading to St. Mungo’s to visit Mr. Weasley, you met a few more of the Order members, including Mad-Eye and Tonks. After a few discussions with them about the Order and their careers as dark wizard catchers you just knew you wanted to follow their paths and become an Auror and join the Order after you finished your schooling. 

It was finally the day Mr. Weasley would be getting released from St. Mungo’s and the whole lot of you Hogwarts students were busy tidying up around preparing for his arrival while Mrs. Weasley, Mad-Eye, and Tonks went out. 

You were currently cleaning down the tabletops in the kitchen with Hermione when you heard George in the next room over beginning to speak out of the blue. “I just don’t get it. My father has a near death experience and he has to come home to around another slimy snake...unbelievable.” he scoffs. 

You halt in your movement as you look up to the door separating the two rooms. The whole time you had been here, you hadn’t possibly done anything to set the boy off.

You hear your boyfriend speak up, anger laced within his tone. “George mate, stop. What the hell! She hasn’t done anything to make you be so cross with her. What the hell gives?”

You drop the towel in your hand onto the dark table, rushing over to the swinging door that separated the rooms. You push it open to see the two redheads glowering at one another in rage as Ginny,  Ron, and Harry stop in the midst of their own cleaning to watch the building argument.

“What gives?” he shouts. “What gives is that she shouldn't be here! She doesn’t belong here with the Order nor is she family! It’s not like she likes us anyways! Besides, she’s a Slytherin for Merlin’s sake! Who knows what she’ll go and tell Umbridge when we get back to school. Better yet, who knows what she will go say to those death eater parents of hers to get all of our asses all killed. ”

“That’s enough! Your bang out of line! You don’t know a thing about her but yet you decide to hate her?! That’s my girlfriend, George!”

 “None of us know her because she doesn’t want us to know her! We’re your family Fred and she’s kept herself from that. She-”

“ENOUGH!” Fred bursts in anger, making you flinch. You had never heard Fred so...so livid before. “That.  Is. Enough.” his tone rough and grave. He looked around the room, looking into the eyes of each of his siblings as he spoke, “You three loathe her because you believe she thinks of us as beneath her. She’s not like that! You all don’t know her because I didn’t want you to know her. I wanted to keep my family and my relationship separate and I see now that that was a horrible mistake and I’m sorry! She truly has always wanted to meet and spend time with you guys  but I have been the one to say no every time, even when she begged and pleaded!”

“Ginny.” His little sister's body straightened upon the hearing of her name, “you would actually really like her. The way you feel and talk about Quidditch, she’s the exact same way. You’re as much of a headstrong firecracker as she is too. You would get along so well..” 

“Ron…” he paused looking at his youngest brother, “I have never seen someone more strategic with Wizard’s Chess and obsessed with the Chudley Cannons than (Y/N). You both could talk for hours about that team and never get tired, you would think she’s great, too.”

Fred looks back to his twin, his eyes softening. “And Georgie...you’re my twin. You have no idea how hard she fought to meet you. After mum and dad, she’s wanted to get to know you the most because she knows just how much you mean to me. You aren’t just my twin, you’re my best mate. Not only does she support me, and you too, she supports our dream of opening the joke shop; something we’ve wanted since we were kids! You would love her maybe just as much as I do.  She’s actually brilliant, I’m telling you. She’s smart, funny, inventive, ambitious, and just as much of a kid-at-heart as we are..” he grinned a bit with a few tears pricking his eyes.

The tension encased in the quaint room was undeniably thick. With teary eyes, you take a glance at his siblings and see their faces are all beginning to mirror the same emotions. Embarrassment, guilt, and shame. You couldn’t lie, seeing them at least a bit remorseful for the way they treated you and made you feel, made you feel a tad bit better.

As he takes a few paces across the room to stand next to you, he looks around at his siblings one last time, “If you want someone to be mad at, be mad at me. Not (Y/N). As my family, I’m begging you, give her a real chance. I love her and I can guarantee you all would love her too.” 

You gently wrap your hand around Fred’s bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze with a watery smile. He looks down at you, tenderly kissing your forehead before grabbing your hand in his much larger one and leading you up the staircase to the room you were staying in. You peek back at his siblings as you ascend the steps, offering them a meek smile of their own. When Ginny had returned with the slightest smile in response, it gave you a new hope that things would be different from here on out. 

*

*

*

Christmas was finally being celebrated at 12 Grimmauld Place and everyone was in high, happy spirits. In the past few days, Ron and Ginny took the initiative to get to know you, and you with them; and as Fred predicted, they enjoyed you and the company you offered. You connected very well with the both of them, and you couldn’t be happier.  Mr. Weasley was ecstatic to finally meet you at last and welcomed you wholeheartedly. He ended up talking your ear off quite a bit about all things he knew about Muggles but you genuinely enjoyed his conversations and enthusiasm! 

Currently, you were helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, placing the last few finishing touches on the small feast the lot of you would be indulging in when Fred and George strolled into the room. Fred waltzed over to you wrapping a strong arm around your waist, spinning you around into his chest. You giggled happily as he placed a quick tender kiss on your lips before pulling away when his mom swatted his shoulder from behind him. Mrs. Weasley announced that the food was ready and for everyone to take their seats so you could get started. Before you all tucked in, she walked around the table handing out brightly colored paper wrapped packages to each of the children. You were beyond surprised when she gestured for you to grab the one she had been holding out in front of you. 

“I got something, too? Mrs. Weasley, you shouldn’t have! Thank you so much!” You spoke as you tore open the wrappings. You see a beautifully homemade scarf and matching gloves in your house colors of silver and green. Your eyes crinkle in excitement as you wrap the fluffy scarf around your neck. You peer up at her again, “I love it, thank you!”

“You’re welcome, dear. I hear those dungeons are quite chilling, those ‘ought to keep you extra warm, I guarantee it.” 

You thank her again and before you can begin to show Hermione your wonderful gift, another package is thrusted your way. You see only this time, it’s George holding it out to you. 

“What is this?” you gently grab it from his hands, your eyebrow arching in wonder. 

“This is technically something from the entire family but I had been the one to ask mum to make it. I owe you, and Fred too, a huge apology. I was a right foul git to you and should have never said those awful things to or about you, and for that I’m very sorry. I know it doesn’t completely change the fact that it happened but I hope you both can forgive me. I have never seen anyone a better match for my twin and I’m happy he has you in his life. Go ahead and open it.“

Your beam at him as you unwrap your second gift, your eyes immediately filling with happy tears when you look down to see what it is. You take the dark green plush sweater out of the paper and hold it up, your eyes roaming over your first initial  that had been stitched in white,  in elation. “My very own Weasley sweater?!” 

George cracked a sincere smile as you hurriedly pulled the sweater over your head to try it on. “Welcome to the family, (Y/N).” 

*

*

*

*

Taglist: @weasleytwinswheezes

[beelsnack]

Henlo!!! Just wanted to request MC getting surprised by the demon bros in the human realm! The bros miss MC a lot so they just surprise them and hang out for a bit :) it can be HCs! Thank you and I love ya work ❤️

Henlo!! Get ready for some fluff, my dudes.

I don’t know why, but this seemed better as short little headcanons as opposed to my usual scenarios.

-----

Lucifer

- He had expressly forbade any of his brothers from going up to the human world, because “they needed time to readjust.”

- But apparently Pridey McPrideface is exempt from his own rules.

- He does his research. If the human still lives with their parents or has roommates, he picks a night when they are home alone.This night is reserved for the two of them, and he will eviscerate anyone who gets in the way.

- Honestly, he wants to do some sort of grand entrance, but in the end, he simply knocks on the door.

- “Hello, my dear,” he takes their hand and kisses their knuckles. “I’ve missed you.”

- “Lucifer!” they tackle him with a hug strong enough to knock over a lesser demon. In his peripheral, Lucifer sees a neighbor stick their head out of the door and look around with a confused look.

- “You have nosy neighbors, I see.”

“Well, I mean, I did just scream ‘Lucifer...’”

“Perhaps we should go inside before someone calls a priest?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

- The two of them spend the night in their living room, just talking. They ask if he wants to go out somewhere, but he declines.

“This is the most relaxed I’ve been in centuries. I’m perfectly satisfied with staying in with you.”

- He hadn’t intended to stay the night, but it was near impossible to resist the offer. And that would end up being his downfall.

- He had forgotten about that stupid game that his brothers and the human liked to play, where they got pictures of each other sleeping. And, just as he couldn’t resist the temptation to spend the night with them, they couldn’t resist the temptation to steal a picture while he slept.

- When he arrived back at the House of Lamentation, all six of his brothers were waiting for him in the entrance hall.

- “So, where ya been, Luci?” Mammon sneered. “Ya couldn’t have possibly snuck off to visit the human after makin’ damn sure you told us not to do that, now could ya?”

“It’s not like our dear eldest brother to do something so hypocritical.” Satan said coolly, regarding Lucifer with a raised eyebrow.

“...I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.” Lucifer huffed.

“’Hey guys! How many points is a sleeping Lucifer worth?’” Levi turned his phone around to show Lucifer a picture of his own sleeping face, with the human’s laughing eyes just poking out from the bottom corner.

“...Oh.”

He wasn’t living this one down for a while.

Mammon

- This sneaky little bastard straight up just climbs into their room in the middle of the night.

- You know, like he DIDN’T live in a completely different realm.

- The human damn near punches him in the face when he wakes them up.

- “Mammon, what the actual fuck are you doing?”

“Visiting, what’s it look like?”

“To my neighbors, probably breaking and entering.”

- They should kick him out, all they have to do is issue a pact command. But Mammon looks at them with his sad blue eyes and they just can’t bring themself to do it.

- “I got so used to ya...y’know...sleeping next to me.” he shuffled around like a kid waiting to get scolded. “It’s hard to fall asleep when ya ain’t there.”

“Shut up and cuddle with me, you big baby.”

- They stay up stupidly late watching vine compilations and talking until they straight up just pass out against each other. They stay like that for the rest of the night.

- And by rest of the night I mean until freaking noon the next day. And the only reason they wake up then is because Lucifer is blowing up Mammon’s phone.

- “Mammon, where are you?”

“If you’re out clubbing, be back at a reasonable hour. If you’re out scheming, don’t come back until you have something to show for it.”

“You better not have passed out in a gutter somewhere. We have a reputation to uphold, you know.”

“Mammon, please tell me you didn’t directly disobey an order and go visit the Human Realm.”

Four unread voicemails.

“Welp, you’re fucked.”

“Thanks, human, love you too.”

Leviathan:

- Social anxiety is a bitch and a half, so he just asks if he can come visit.

-Deadass just portals into their living room like “’Sup, I brought games, go get some snacks and get prepared to get rekt.”

- That’s it, that’s the visit.

- They decide to do multiplayer vs some other humans and they wipe the floor with them.

- “Eat it, normies, I’M the one playing with a hot person! Have fun in your moms’ basements!”

“Pot meet kettle, Levi.”

“I don’t live in a basement, though!”

“Fair point. Boom, headshot!”

- Levi manages to sleep over without repercussions solely because nobody is surprised if he doesn’t show up somewhere.

Satan

- Makes direct eye contact with Lucifer as he leaves the House of Lamentation and goes “Don’t wait up.”

-Times his surprise visit so he’s made himself comfortable with a book and a cup of coffee when they get home.

- They brought a friend over to study or whatever. The human sees him in the middle of the living room and just screeches “Satan, what the fuck?”

-The friend is like “Aight imma head out.” And like goes into witness protection.

- Satan comes bearing gifts of the newest installments of Devildom book series’ and a recording of the episodes of the crime dramas that they need to catch up on.

- They pause between each episode to talk theories even though Satan already knows what happens. Both of them feel proud of the human when they figure it out.

- Mammon texts Satan in the middle of the night in absolute terror.

Mammon: Satan you get your ass back to the Devildom right now!

Satan: Why?

Mammon: Because Lucifer is about to rip a hole through the dimensions to drag you back here!

Satan: That sounds like a Lucifer problem.

Mammon: It’s about to be a Three Realms problem!

- Read 2:09 AM

Asmodeus

- He just tells Lucifer he’s going to visit Solomon.

- And makes sure to tell him that if Lucifer decides to interrupt him, he will gladly let him listen to all of the naughty things they’re going to be doing.

- And Lucifer just straight up doesn’t want to deal with his shit so he lets it go.

- The human comes home to see Asmo stretched out on their bed scrolling through Devilgram.

- “Ugh, finally! You took forever!”

“Asmo? What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was planning on seducing you, but I absolutely refuse to have sex on a bed that moans louder than I do.”

- They go on a cute little cafe date and Asmo insists on going to all of the high-end fashion stores.

- “Devildom fashion trends always seem a few decades behind the human world. Honestly, it wasn’t until about five years ago that I could find a skirt above my knees! You would think a Realm full of sin and vice would be a little more up-to-date with provocative attire.”

- FASHION. SHOW.

-They spend an absurd amount of time trying on tacky jewelry and roasting it via Snapchat. Like, the employee showed up on Asmo’s story as they were kicking them out.

- They buy a bottle of liquor on their way back to the human’s place, get absolutely smashed and, depending on your preference, either have the giggliest sex ever or watch stupid beauty hack videos. Maybe both. Actually, definitely both.

- The next morning, Asmo does an Inter-dimensional Walk of Shame and no one is surprised.

Beelzebub

- Was going to lie about where he was going but felt guilty about it.

- So he just didn’t tell anyone.

-Knocks on the human’s door and immediately gives them the biggest bear hug.

- “I missed you, so I came to visit. That’s okay, right?”

- Beel wants to go out to eat, but the human flat out says no because they can’t afford to wine and dine the Avatar of Gluttony.

- They compromise by buying a crapton of snacks at the grocery store.

- Cashier: Must be a big party you’re having.

Human, grabbing a family size bag of chips out of Beel’s hand without even turning to look at him: Yup.

- They make themselves a blanket fort in their living room, watching movies and eating way too many snacks. Beel asks them questions about their family and their life up there. If the human has photos, he wants to see all of them.

-The human falls asleep mid-movie, slumping against his shoulder. Beel picks them up and tucks them into bed, planning on leaving to let them rest before they sleepily ask him to spend the night.

Belphegor

- Convinces Mammon to cover for him.

- Does this by going “Please, Big Brother?” and Mammon caves almost immediately.

- Pops into the human’s bedroom in the early hours of the morning and wiggles into bed with them.

- “Why am I not surprised?”

“Missed you too.”

- Human just accepts the snuggles and goes back to sleep. Belphie makes sure they have good dreams.

- If they have work or school, Belphie convinces them to call in sick and spend the day with him.

- Lots of naps and sleepy kisses. The chillest day ever.

- The human feels so relaxed that they almost convince Belphie to stay another night, and Belphie almost agrees.

- But Mammon’s ability to bullshit will only last so long, and Belphie knows he needs to go back before someone notices that his “afternoon nap” was going on 14 hours.

- “Come see me in my dreams, okay?”

[whumpster-fire]

Man, y’know, daemons would make the history of warfare and military tactics very different. Because think about how much of human history warfare was dominated by tight infantry formations standing shoulder to shoulder so shields can overlap. This would work way less well if not only are there twice as many bodies, but half of them need to not touch each other. Like, how do you form a phalanx when you need to not touch each other’s daemons? Cavalry would be much more effective and dominant than in our world because the dense formations that can repel charges might not really be possible!

As stated by Lyra “even warriors in battle would never touch one another’s daemons.” However, “touching” another person’s daemon with bullets, arrows, spears, horse hooves, and rocks doesn’t count. Daemons were just as vulnerable in historical warfare as modern warfare. Those with smaller forms seem to have commonly been protected in metal or wooden boxes, which were most likely worn in the least exposed place possible, but artwork depicts  flying daemons circling above infantry - where their main responsibility would be to dodge arrows. In reality the brutality and chaos of medieval battlefields was such that daemons stuck on the ground or wounded could be kicked or trampled.

The social convention in European history of certain daemon forms being more “noble” than others is derived directly from feudal times. Knights’ daemons were expected to have forms that could keep up in battle and have some ability to harass horses and enemies’ daemons. While horse daemons being ridden into battle appear in various sources including Arthurian legend, there is little historical evidence for this. It is incredibly rare for daemons to take forms larger than a human, and it is more likely that these stories depict daemons with such forms to portray their humans as, quite literally, larger than life. Wolves, large dogs, and large cats seem to be more common, as well as birds of prey. Accounts of battles include smaller daemons being snatched out of the air and carried out of range of their humans.

In addition to artwork, contemporary accounts, and artifacts such as the English Daemon Coins, we have evidence of the forms of some historical figures’ daemons in the form of armor shaped for them buried with their humans. Daemon armor appears in the graves of high-ranking warriors of many cultures and time periods, but in post-Roman Europe it seems to have spread southward from Scandinavia, and may have been inspired by encounters with Panserbjorne. One Danish king’s tomb contains armor which is believed to have been forged by Panserbjorne to commemorate an alliance or friendship - although it is made of ordinary (but very high-quality for the time) steel and not sky-iron.

Judicial duels in the time of trial by combat usually had both parties’ daemons enter cages so they couldn’t attach each other. This was for two reasons. First, because the physical disparity in the daemons’ forms was often vastly greater than that of the humans, and second, because the touch taboo makes it harder to treat a daemon’s wounds than a human’s.

In later times when duels had the common rule of the challenged party selecting the weapons, there were cases of them calling for the duel to be fought between their daemons. There are far fewer documented cases of such duels actually taking place, because people generally only did this when their daemon had an obvious and massive advantage, and it was considered to be insulting to the challenger.

Historical European Martial Arts manuals do contain some illustrations of techniques involving the combatants’ daemons. These are generally pretty gimmicky, and include:

Throwing your cloak or hat at a flying daemon to drag them to the ground so your daemon can attack them.

A hawk daemon grabbing its human’s cloak and tossing it at the opponent’s face.

An illustration showing a dog daemon using a hooked staff to trip the opponent from behind.

Most modern scholars don’t take these techniques particularly seriously, and believe that these were intentionally unusual techniques included to show off the author’s skill or because a wealthy patron asked for them.

[shoichee]

omg cngrts on 100!!!! <3 u deserve it!!!! hii how are you??? ahaha hows genshin going for you?? also for ur milstone event, can i request kise ryota with prompt 19 or 20, i cant decide between the two, so ill leaave it to you!! <3 i hope youre doing well 💖💖💖💖

dhfiuseyghieaugh tysm ily reeeeee <33 been playing genshin nonstop to keep my sanity from my uni papers SEND HELP

Kise x Reader

19. “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me”

Word Count: 2851

prompt list here

Note: we need more manga Kise, i repeat, we need more asshole Kise

»»—————　☼　—————««

How could this happen? How could he, the veteran of receiving female attention, be so careless?

He only saw you as an intrigue. A challenge. Perhaps a friend at the very most.

How did this happen?

Kise slightly grits his teeth before he quickly exhales, bringing his hand to rub out the tension in his neck. His mood had not gone unnoticed by his fans around him.

Ah, shit.

“Ryōta!” one called out, her tone dripped in saccharine. “What’s wrong?”

“Have you been pushing yourself lately?” another one chimes in.

“I can come with you to the infirmary… surely you’d have trouble!—”

“Move—I asked first!”

“H-hey! Quit being so snappy—!”

“Stop.”

He instinctively sends a glare at the mob out of irritation but then stops himself to quickly etch a sweet smile of his own for them. No matter how much he hears these words of concern, he hears nothing but empty wind. Hanging around girls was supposed to be a fun pastime. A challenge. Nowadays, his mind doesn’t bother to register any of their names, their faces. All their voices that come out of their mouth have become constantly replayed recaps; their chatters have become equivalent to those of flocking pigeons. “Don’t worry, everyone! Basketball practice has just been tough, is all. You’re all so kind to worry for my health, though! Thank you!”

Squeals rang throughout the courtyard as they hung onto his every word. Predictable.

As he firmly separates himself away from the group and leaves off with a cheerful facade, he quickly turns around to make a break with a brisk walk. Where to, exactly? He doesn’t know, but anywhere that didn’t have people around would be godsend.

His mind always returns back to you. You, who he thought would be the cure to his social life, just as Aomine and Kuroko were to his life of sports. You, who respected his personal space. You, whom he had meaningful conversations with during breaks sometimes. You, who he felt like he can drop his facades around recently and just entirely be himself.

As cruel as it was, he once challenged himself to make you fall for him. A sick, twisted game that would cure his boredom and give him something to look forward to other than practice. Something to keep him on his toes throughout the beginning of high school. You, who wasn’t honestly that special, other than the fact you treated him differently, unlike other people. Hell, even the adults are wrapped around his finger. What’s not making you fall head over heels for him? His curiosity continues to grow exponentially the more he spends time with you; never once did it get satiated.

Was it his ego that you bruised up? Was it his competitiveness kicking in at the thought of experiencing a type of “defeat?” Was it the unsaid uncertainty in his heart that is currently panicking of the thought of entering a whole new territory with new emotions and thoughts?

There is nothing special about you. You were only a challenge. There is nothing special about you. Once he figures you out, your game, you would just be like everyone els—

“Ow!”

“Ah, sorry! My bad, my bad! Are you alright? I’ve been a tad dizzy lately, here let me help you, oh…” As he rambles in a slight fluster, he immediately jumps back into his chivalrous side, immediately clasping a hand to help them up. Expecting to see another faceless individual, his eyes widened when his mind registered a pair of eyes staring inquisitively at him. Your eyes.

“Are you the same Ryōta I know?” you stifle a laugh. “Since when were you so quick to ever help me out without complaining my ear off?” When they say his first name, it has always sounded off, sickening even. He still could not comprehend why he, despite hating the sound of his first name rolling off of people’s tongues, insisted on you using his first name. Strangely, whenever you call him out so sincerely, he couldn’t help but always jerk back in genuine surprise at how… nice it felt.

He only let you use his first name to force a sense of closeness. This was only to accelerate the forming of a bond between the two of you. Nothing more, nothing less. Nothing more than a challenge. Nothing more than an asset to accomplish it.

But every time he has had these thoughts lately, his heart spiked with painful palpitations.

How did this happen?

His swirling thoughts halt when he feels your hand against his forehead. “You said you were dizzy earlier, right?” you said worriedly. “You don’t seem sick… have you been eating properly?”

You were tippy-toeing to try to reach his height, one hand grasping his shoulder for support while the other was feeling his temperature. And oh, you were so close.

This was a game you were playing, too, right? You must’ve known this entanglement was all just a challenge and you wanted to play along for the fun of it, right? But these thoughts quickly cease as you separate yourself from him to give him the usual physical distance.

What sort of game were you playing? Tug-of-war? Cat-and-mouse chase? Two can play at that game.

“Hey…” he looms over your figure, leaning closer to your face. “Maybe you’re the one making me dizzy, after all?” His sharp eyes search for any subtle signs you give off: your facial expressions, body language, your reactions.

“What?” Your eyes widen at his abrupt advance, worried eyes quickly turning into one of confusion as you scan Kise’s face for any other subtle signs of his own.

There was no way you could have good intentions. There was no way you could have genuine concern for him. There was no way you would be hanging around with him, unless you had some ulterior motives of your own.

After all, he chose to get to know you for the most selfish reason. How could he ever bring himself to tell you that this precarious friendship you two shared was built on the premise of deceit on his end?

“Sorry,” he chuckles. “Just wanted to see your reaction.” And with that, he ruffles your hair playfully before he continues to walk to his intended destination of the school infirmary.

“You’re definitely sick!” you call out, rushing to catch up to him. “You’re acting really strange!...” Your voice—he wishes he could tune it out just as easily as the rest, but you were right… he was acting strange. He couldn’t believe he can distinguish your features from amidst a sea of people. Your voice amidst a clutter of noises. Your warmth amidst all the sunlight, clothing, and body heat he’s ever felt. The same warmth encapsulating his own hand.

What sort of game were you playing?

“Here! Follow me,” you said, tugging his hand forward as you take the initiative to lead him. “If you’re sick, you shouldn’t be walking around alone. What if you collapse?”

What sort of game were you playing?... Was having the most scrunched-up brows and worried eyes part of the rules? He tightens his lips into a thin line at the sensation of his heartbeats again.

As you tug along his hand and lead him down the hallway, his mind drifts to the moments you two have shared for the past few weeks. When you bumped into him and succinctly apologized before excusing yourself… when he approached you constantly every chance he got during breaks to figure you out… when he saw you efficiently defending yourself against his dedicated fans… when you first approached him after he exited the lockers to congratulate him on a home game win before you turned to Kasamatsu to talk of club affairs with the council… when he first heard you actively cheering his name on the stands… when you inopportunely saw him weeping about Kaijo’s loss at the Winter Cup and successfully comforted him…

With each progression in his thoughts, his hand suddenly feels warmer against yours, his heart rate thumping faster, his eyes growing more out of focus as he gazes at your back, and then your intertwined hands. Maybe he really is sick.

“Are you alright?” you asked, turning to face him as you both keep walking. “We’re just about here.”

He says nothing as he keeps his face straight ahead. He doesn't trust himself to keep it together after that slipup with his fans; messing up in front of you would be certainly disastrous.

“Is there anyone here?” you softly called out, tentatively sliding the doors open. There was no one, but they were probably on a lunch break before coming back soon. He hears you sigh before you tug him in completely into the room. “Sit here, and I’ll look for some ice packs, at least… I don’t know if that would work, though…”

As you let go of his hand to try to rummage through the drawers, his hand instinctively holds you tighter.

Shit.

“Ryōta?...” you said. “Do you wanna lay down instead, I’ll look for something for you to—”

“... (y/n)-cchi, stay here.”

Shit. Kasamatsu was right: he needs to learn how to shut his godamn mouth.

“Ryōta,” you shyly mumble. “That was the first time you addressed me with -cchi at the end. Don’t you only use it with your old teammates?”

Shit… shit, shit, shit.

He can’t slip up, and he’s fucking up three times in a row? He’s losing his edge. There’s no way he’ll lose now… not when he’s come so far.

“... Do you know what you’re doing?” he exhales, dropping your hand to run his hands through his locks. “You’re driving me insane…”

“Me?”

“What games are you playing here, I swear to god—there’s no reason for you to care this much for me like this—”

“I do have a reason,” you replied, averting your eyes to feign looking for those ice packs. There you go again, acting coy… that’s what he chants to himself anyways.

“Wha?~ You’re keeping secrets from your friend, already?” he coos, trying to gain back the momentum. Yes, that’s right…you are only considered a friend. “It’s kind of cruel to bring it up but then decide to not divulge them, y’know?”

“It doesn’t take much human decency to worry and care for another,” you smile. “Even more so for a friend.”

You finally turn away to continue hunting for anything useful in the cabinets, while Kise silently watches you from his chair. Silence settles between the two of you.

“Y’know… I’ve been thinking,” you start, handing him a glass of water, a wet towel, and ice packs. “I don’t want for us… to be friends anymore.”

It took his entire self control to not jump from his chair to grab you and interrogate you into oblivion. But why? Did you realize his true intentions? Did you hate his guts after all? Did you accomplish your own objectives and deem this friendship no longer useful?

Why does he even care about any of this?

“You’re… joking, right?”

He really expected for you to burst into laughter and call it a prank or tease him about his unfiltered reaction at your words, but your eyes have now become determined and very serious.

You weren’t joking.

“Ryōta, I’ll just get this out of the way first things first, but I know that you only see me as some type of trophy to go after… for a while now.”

How did this happen?

“It’s just the way you look at me sometimes seems off,” you said. “It’s not obvious to others, but we’ve spent almost every day with each other for a while, so I’ve kinda noticed… Honestly, that only solidified my initial impressions of you being a complete asshole.”

Why does his heart feel like it’s going to shatter?

“But…” you continued. “Recently, you were just… different. You were still stupid, sure. But you’ve laughed so much more and supported me when I needed it most. I’ve never laughed this hard until I met you—you make me wheeze out the ugliest laughs, as I’m ashamed to admit. But I want to be able to support you too… like, it feels that this whole thing you’re trying to put up when you meet with other people… it must be exhausting, right? I know you first acted that way with me. I can understand and kind of relate to that, so you can always talk to me alone if you need an ear.”

“Why are you telling me that you don’t want to be friends anymore?” Kise flatly asks. “You’re clearly correct about everything about me. You could’ve just left a long while ago. Did you have to pretend to care, too? Go ahead, aren’t you going to gossip about this to everyone?”

“What? No! I’m not done talking yet, idiot! I wasn’t pretending anything! Can you just stop projecting yourself onto me and listen up? Even though you’re such an asshole sometimes, er—all the time, the time we spent together has grown to be genuine, and I know you felt it too!... so well, I know you’ve heard these words so many times from other people, but…

I like you. That’s why I don’t want to be just your friend anymore. But I know you don’t reciprocate these back, so I just wanna tell you to get it off my chest… that’s all.”

He is absolutely stunned.

You’ve confessed to him, didn’t you? He got what he wanted. He won his little challenge. But why doesn’t he feel the adrenaline, the excitement, of it all like he normally would? His heart beated painfully erratically like how his team suffered a bittersweet loss at the games. Especially when you turned away to leave after you gauged his silence as rejection.

“(y/n)-cchi! W-wait!” He fumbles to grab for the warmth of your hand again. “You just confessed, right? Don’t you have to hear what I say?”

You simply shrug in response, but nonetheless, you turned back around to face him and await his response.

What you didn’t expect though was for him to pull you into a tight embrace and put his head on your shoulder. He pours his innermost thoughts and his emotions out, your shoulder slightly muffling his words, but you still understand everything he had spilled. He finally apologizes for everything he’s done, reassuring you that you don’t have to forgive him, though you kept telling him that it wasn’t that big of a deal. He finally breaks away from you and hangs his head low and exhales. He finally lifts his head to make eye contact with you. His eyes burn with intensity and the usual confidence he bears, although you note the tinge of nervousness behind his pupils.

How did this happen? How did he ever grow so attached to you? And since when did he grow mature enough to concede his defeat?

“I think I’m in love with you…” His words trail off, and his confidence disintegrates away when he realizes that he is no longer the receiving end of a confession.

… and that scares… the crap out of me.”

“You think you’re in love with me?” You stare at him incredulously. Kise squirms uncomfortably under your scrutiny. He’ll admit it, it was the lamest reply anyone could’ve given. You honestly deserved better.

His thoughts were interrupted when you suddenly guffawed and slapped your hands to your mouth to try to stifle your hysteria.

“Hey! I spilled my entire heart to you, don’t just laugh… damnit, hey! It’s not that funny!...” he protests, but after unsuccessfully trying to get you to stop snickering, he sulks back into his chair and huffs with the reddest face.

“Ah… A+ for honesty, at least,” you breathed out. “I thought you were gonna be eloquent about this, since you’re used to this sorta stuff and all…”

“Shut it.”

Kise buries his head into his hands, but you gently pry them off in an attempt to see his embarrassed state.

“Were you really actually sick, though?~”

“Shut uuuup, alreadyyy.”

“I inherited this personality from you, y’know.”

Huh, it seems that you really do know how to be coy, after all.

“Can you two please see yourselves out? The infirmary is not a place to hold your secret rendezvous, especially with this inappropriate behavior.”

“(y/n)-cchi, run!”

“I’m trying, I’m trying!”

In a hurry, Kise grabs hold of your hand and makes a break out the door, dragging you behind with the school nurse trailing far behind. Even if he suffered a loss once again, he still won the complete monopoly of you and your genuine care and warmth for him.

Was it really a loss, though? He doesn’t think much of it now that his head feels clear when he shares these moments with you.

He supposes he misjudged you when you were truly special after all. Déjà vu just hits him like a truck when he fondly thinks about his ex-mentor Kuroko, and how similar you are to him.

[grumpy-zane]

    A little sus - Reccordshipping crack one shot (Lou x Dareth)

    Cole had a sneaking suspicion after Kai mentioned that his and Dareth’s plans for coat thrifting were cancelled. He called his dad earlier that day and he seemed pressed for time. It was only ever so often he would keep conversation short whether it was because he wanted to catch the next transport to a different town for preforming or had an important meeting to attend to, but he would at least mention it before hanging up. Today he was without his confident, prideful edge.

     “What’s wrong Cole?” Zane asked from across the table. He had been watching Cole draw with hopes of learning, but so far he only managed to make a dozen perfect circles. 

     He blinked, slowly looking up before looking back at his drawing, “Zane, I think my dad is seeing someone.”

    Zane smiled, “That’s a good thing, correct?” though on second though, maybe Cole didn’t want a new mom in the picture.     “I mean sure, but,” He set the pencil down and let it roll, “I think Dareth might be setting him up, and I dunno how I feel about that.”     “What do you mean?”     Cole folded his arms, “Well to start, it’s Dareth, and I’m sorry Zane, but he can be a bit much. Kind of overbearing and pushy. When I was talking to dad over the phone, he didn’t carry himself the same way he normally does. Like, not confident, not commanding. What if Dareth pressured him into finding someone new?”

   His eyebrows rose as he thought about it, “That certainly seems like a possibility, but why would Dareth want to do that?”    “I don’t know, why does he do anything? What I do know is that I don’t like how this looks, and I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Are you with me?” Cole offered a hand.     Not that he had any plans for the evening, Pixal was busy beating people up in the city. “Of course!”

--

    Tapping into surveillance sped the process up tenfold, first with tracking the house cameras and then checking around for the location of a car license plate. They wound up outside of an old concert all lit up orange from the ground flood lights, a tall building designed to carry the acoustics on the inside.

    Zane began walking towards the doors but Cole pulled him back by the arm, “I don’t want my dad to know we’re here, I just want to check up on him.”     “But what if he need a quick escape from a situation?”     “Please, my dad isn’t afraid to push back when someone is stepping on his toes. Besides, if it’s something really bad, we can do that after we scope it out.” Cole nodded before looking at the trimmings. What better way to enter in stealth than through the upstairs window?

    While the exterior was without much change over the years, the interior had a multitude of renovations done over to modernize the look. Chairs filled the entirety of the stage seating both on the floor and in the balcony. The blue chairs near the stage were newer than the ones hard-bolted down to the frame near the ninjas’ sides. the building was vacant with only a few lights on around the stage where the two men were dancing.

    “It appears to be some sort of lesson.” Zane mused.

    Cole, however, felt suspicious once more. “That’s not just any dance Zane, that’s a very specific dance that my dad would do in the living room with my mom. It’s romantic, not used casually.” “Perhaps Dareth wanted to impress someone, and enlisted Lou’s help?”

    An echoed thud followed by a yelp halted their conversation. “let go let go-” Dareth winced, which Lou obliged.     “Are you okay?”     “Hah, I told you Lou I have tight ankles,” He sucked and let out, “I knew I should have done some stretches.” Lou sighed, “No no, this night isn’t going how I wanted it to at all.”     “huh?” He seemed to drop the pain act immediately- was he trying to get out of it? His shakiness getting up argued agaisnt it.     “The park, the dinner, this, none of it went how I wanted it. It was just supposed to be me and you but then there was the pigeon strike, the domino effect of broken dishes, and the sound systems are all locked out! Ugh, it’s terrible!” Lou threw an arm into the air.     Dareth frowned, “Aw come on, it’s not that bad. I thought it was funny, even though that poor waitress fell, that was bad.”     “You don’t understand. I just wanted to spend time with you again without strings, without condition.” He paced, “Like how it used to be. Time marches forward but, history is still important!”

    “Lou, back then it was conditional. I was working for you to make sure everything went according to plan for the team. I wasn’t tagging along because I wanted to- well I did but then.. You know, we grew apart, had different dreams. you got married and I.. well lets not talk about that.” He chuckled nervously and scratched his elbow. “Maybe if you wanted this to turn out well you shoulda asked me to set it up....”

    He stopped and turned to face him, “You really left because you were chasing a dream?”

    Dareth rubbed his neck, “I.. left because you didn’t want me anymore- by that I mean you had Lily and you had lost touch with me and.. you know, we weren’t friends anymore we were just.. there, working, y’know?” This wasn’t something he had thought about in awhile, one of those topics that he would shove down before it interrupted his sleep, “I know I blew up and I apologized for that, and you apologized to me but.. it hurt. It hurt a lot.”

    Maybe it was silly, they had only met because he was desperate to be in the spotlight anyway, then he became a temporary manager for a few years. it wasn’t supposed to be anything more than that, was it? He considered Lou a friend, but really he shouldn’t have gotten that far. It was behind them both, so why did it haunt him?

    He felt a hand on his arm and finally stopped squeezing his neck, looking up at Lou who was staring intensely. “Did you consider me more than a friend?”

    His face felt a brief flash of heat. Dareth shrugged, “What can I say? you had your looks.”

    “Do you?”

    “Do I what?”

    “Consider me more than a friend now?”

    Dareth erupted in laughter, thinking it a joke, “Well if you’re in the market to buy,” He slapped Lou on the shoulder and squeezed it, but stopped immediately seeing the look he was giving back. “You’re serious?”

    Lou gave a nod.

    “Wait, was this uh, supposed to be a primer for a date?”

    “Well more like the date itself..”

    Dareth stared, “Lou Brookstone. Rule number one, if it’s a date, you ask ‘hey do you want to go on a date?’ first. Rule number two, if you want to be in a relationship with me, you let me plan out the dates. And rule number three,” He shoved his finger in Lou’s shoulder, “would you like to go on one next week Wednesday also how do you think Cole will feel about this?”

    Zane looked at Cole who looked ready to scream.