#they framed it like they weren’t supposed to exist and the way to fix that is to stop existing

[cecenyss]

I can’t believe they ended the umbrella academy season 4 with I think we’re alone now. They do not deserve I think we’re alone now.

[solbaby7]

Seen

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: possible swearing but this is mainly just fluff, maybe a splash of sexual tension but I love a good slow burn when it comes to azzyboy

summary: Nosy by nature, you follow a few stray shadows somewhere you know you don’t belong—better not get caught

—

You shouldn’t be here.

You definitely shouldn’t be here.

But everytime you stopped, tried to turn back and go where you came, those little shadows stopped you. Wrapping around your legs like snakes, pulling at your clothes and gently pushing you forward down a dark hallway with only one door.

You knew you shouldn’t have touched it.

But the little shadows twisted the knob for you, door opening with a slow creek.

“Absolutely not,” You say to the hovering shadow, unsure if it could understand you but the way it curled around your shoulders and urged you forward seemed like a “actually, you will”.

It was a little colder in here, a room filled to the brim with all sorts of treasures. Weapons hang neatly against the wall above the fireplace, swords sharper than the jagged rocks weathered by the crashing tide deep below the mountains. Armor and fighting leathers of all sizes and stitching hang on a rack in the corner, perfectly clean save a few random holes—war wounds you concluded.

But whose?

The answer becomes more apparent when you prod a little further, carefully observing rare books; some with languages carved on the spine you hadn’t even known existed. Paintings hang on the wall, some of landscapes, a few of the Night Court, but one makes your eyes widen—the painting Feyre had made for Azriel.

You step back immediately, the shadow holding at your arm to brace you. “I really shouldn’t be in here.” You whisper at it, fixing the papers on the desk you’d stumbled into.

“No, you really shouldn’t.”

Your body freezes, hands stuck in place over the little wooden figurine you’d knocked over and the profanity that slips out is nothing above a whisper. “I swear I wasn’t snooping.”

It definitely looks like you’re snooping, hands all over personal paperwork that once you squinted your eyes to look at, you realize they’re reports; mission debriefs, important information that you certainly shouldn’t know and the whine that pulls in your distress, Azriel actually finds kind of cute. “Okay.” There’s no reading the expression on his face, dark hair tumbling down his shoulders. His shirts unbuttoned, golden brown skin capturing your attention and you force your eyes away before you get caught up in the giant wings tucked behind him. “Why are you here?”

Your fear morphs into anger, pointer finger jabbing at the two shadows slinking about your feet, nearly fully hidden if it weren’t for the smoke like wisps that curled in the air. “They made me, I swear. I didn’t even open the door.”

Azriel says nothing, wings ruffling when he beckoned them, silently commanding they return but the shadows don’t obey. They hide behind your frame, flitting about your clothes and one settles around the back of your neck like a sleepy cat. “Interesting.”

“They’re kinda cute,” You admit softly, eyes transfixed on the newest addition to your shoulders and when your fingers come to touch it, it feels cool. “—if they weren’t so naughty.” As if remembering you’re not alone you look back up, hand lowering back down to your sides as you stand there awkwardly. “But, I suppose I didn’t exactly fight them that hard—I was a little curious.”

“Dangerous thing, curiosity. People have killed over less.”

It takes everything in you not to step back because even though the words are slightly threatening, they aren’t untrue. “I apologize—I’ll go now.”

“If you weren’t actually snooping through my papers,” Azriel begins, the shadows attached to him preventing you from going any further and the two connected to you reach out to the others—bumping against one another like bees communicating where the most pollen was. A few more reach out to you, curiously prodding at your clothes, your hair, curling around your arm and gliding through the gaps of your fingers. “What were you looking at?”

You answer quickly albeit a little distracted by the smoky darkness crawling up your shirt and around your neck. “I was—“ Your breath catches when they squeeze a little, blush fanning. “Can you get them off please?”

“Believe it or not,” You dare look up at him and find that he looks just as flustered as you by his shadows. “I’m trying but they’re not really responding to me at the moment.”

Panic is evident on your face and the swirling gems containing the true extent of his power behinds to glow a little, shadows being pulled back like a magnet no matter how hard they latch on. “Does that happen often.”

Azriel’s hand reached out, snatching at one that dared try to pull away. He doesn’t look at you when he tucks it back with the others. “No.”

There’s a pause, a silence that’s not exactly uncomfortable but you still feel the need to fill it when you skim over parts of the room you hadn’t been able to explore before. “What is all of this stuff?” You’re moving before you can tell your feet to stop, settling before a glass cabinet filled with all sorts of precious gems, glimmering necklaces and two neatly hung dresses and though neither are quite as high quality as the stones; your hand still hovers over them, fingertips millimeters from the shiny glass. “It’s beautiful.”

You don’t hear anything for some time, too entranced with the golden arm cuff that had been carefully designed into a vine with detailed leaves and stems that seemed to grow the longer you stared at it. “They’re for,” Azriels voice is low, clearing his throat when his breath catches slightly. “—they were for my mother.”

Were.

You don’t look at him, granting him the gift of privacy because it was obvious this wasn’t exactly an easy subject and even more clear that procuring this many words from him was a feat in itself. You hum instead, trying to appear as casual as possible as you appreciate items not meant for other eyes—treasures meant for a someone who was no longer with us. “She must’ve been lovely—probably a bit complex,” You say without thinking. “Probably really kind too and good with nature,” You add, looking back at the arm cuff.

A blush forms when you finally turn to face him again, his mouth is slightly agape and you can’t quite put your finger on the way he’s staring at you. “You get all that from some jewelry?”

You scoff as if they’re your own, defending them like you’d picked them yourself. “They’re not just jewelry. Look at how intricate the pieces are,” You point at them, never touching the glass in fear of leaving a fingerprint or possibly breaking it. “Each and every one of them probably look careful thought and planning and endless hours of time spent bringing it to life. The care; the love put into them it’s—“ You let out a breath, realizing how fast you were talking and how quick you were breathing. Suddenly, you feel shy with his eyes studying you. “It’d be a disservice to just call them jewelry when it’s so clear her soul’s in every piece.”

Azriel’s not a man of many words, so you don’t force them. Instead you dip you head in farewell, returning the clingy shadows and making way to leave when you hear a whisper so soft you nearly mistake it for the wind. “I thought so too.”

[yaymiyas]

Yandere!Jock Introduction

warning: yandere content, manipulation, foul language, boys being…boys!, gn reader

YANDERE!JOCK, whose very name gives you the ick. noah. ew. to his medium length golden hair that frames his face ever so tightly, to his tall frame that makes it almost impossible to miss him, and to especially his a million dollar smile that he wears like the latest fashion trend…why do you hate him again?

why do you avoid him like the spanish flu? not even you knew fully. you contemplate about this very topic for weeks, never really getting a straight answer from yourself. from every instants that you two have crossed paths, he has been nothing but forthcoming with you. nothing but sunshines and rainbows. nothing but absolutely perfect.

Yuck.

you never even wanted to actually know who he was. you and your friends may have joked about him and his friend group a few times, but having noah around you 24/7 was never really on your bucket list. he kind of made it his own mission to make his existence your business.

it all started last semester, when you were walking down the hall. chem and statistic books in one arm, and the other quietly struggling to keep your book bag up. with the current cards not being 1000% in your favor, you didn’t really have time to look up at where exactly you were going. but noah did. trying to maneuver through the busy halls isn’t the easiest task with two shoulders filled and a 6’2, linebacker breaking down your neck. you didnt even see him walking beside you for the last two door frames you seemingly passed. all that was on your mind was to successfully get to the exit quick enough so you can get to your car, but satan had other plans.

“i can help you if you dont mind”

not paying the voice any real attention, you flash a struggling smile trying to use that as a quiet sign to leave you alone. one thing you didn’t bank on, was for noah to not really take no as a real answer. or in this case, an annoyed smile. testing his luck, the taller male fixed your book bag strap releasing a whole 2 pounds of weight off of your shoulder. with this new found feeling, you hesitantly stopped in your tracks and paid the stranger a small glance. looking back was noah, smiling widely like he just won the latto.

YANDERE!JOCK who finds a way to comfort you at all the right times. a random rumor about you started to spread at the speed of light. nobody would tell you where it started, or why they believe it but all you know is that it is messing up your senior year. you wanted to end your high school career better than when you came in, because lets face it, your freshman and sophomore years were ass. not being of bullying or teasing, you just weren’t ready or willing to see that you were in a different environment. things are different from two years ago, well they were supposed to be.

you don’t know how you started crying or when, but you were outside of your ecom class tears soaking your binders. you never allowed the words of others to get to you, always brushed them off. this time around it was different. you were more affected than you thought you would be at things like this. sleeping with a teacher? the same ecom teacher who you deducted points for not citing correctly? the same one who didn���t learn your name until two weeks ago? such a baseless and so easy to be unproven, so why do so many people believe it?

the only reason you were crying outside of your class is because two girls called you a slut to your face. out loud. with grins on their face, like your misery was something that warmed their skin. it was all so disgusting but you couldn’t do anything was cry. why now? why you? why the very last semester of high school? why?

“i heard about what’s going on,”

noah slightly nudges your leg with his foot, forcing your attention solely on him. you didn’t want to look up.

no, you actually wanted to tell him to go away. why was the most annoying, condescending, passive aggressive person in front of you for. the universe and gods must hate you.

“you know,”

he started with a hint of glee in his voice. was this all a joke to him? was he enjoying your tears? was your agony entertainment for him? this sick bastard. if you could, you would pull him by his hair and yank him to the floor. a knee to the stomach wouldn’t do anything to a linebacker right?

“its okay if you slept with him…we all have our low points.”

wow.

oh.

you are a joke to him. his smile never wavered, no it actually got bigger. you turned your head a bit so both of you were staring into the others. his ocean blue eyes seemed to turn into a black hole, sucking you into it with no avail. this is sick. he is sick. was he the one to fucking tell everybody that? how did he even know about the rumor? why was he here? what does he want from you, and how far will he go to get it.

[bodhrancomedy]

The streaks of crimson in the river were slowly thickening as we fought our way upstream. The bubbles weren’t even bursting anymore, whatever gas was lurking beneath the surface clearly couldn’t release.

On one hand, I thought, that was a stroke of luck. It seemed unlikely that any of us excluding young Sim since I noticed she was staring at the water with that worrying curiosity I’d come to know – were going to be poisoned by breathing it in.

On the other, it might mean the river was going to explode. Stranger things have happened, and they often happened to us. To be fair, it was because we went looking for them.

“Helene!”

I snapped my head up at my name, just in time to see a shadow disappear into the willows on the opposite bank. My stomach clenched, adrenaline striking between my shoulder blades like a shrapnel shower, radiating across my body. It hadn’t been huge, but it was definitely bigger than any bird or creature that was supposed to be digging out an existence here.

I fingered my pistol, the modifications bulky to the touch. It didn’t make me feel much better. Squinting and cursing my vanity in not letting that new-fangled eye-doctor take a look at me, I focused on the trees, trying to spot anything moving.

So when Sim appeared next to me, I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Did’ya see it?” she was trying to whisper a shout. Sim had never done anything quietly.

Turning reluctantly, I shook my head. “Not properly. I just had a glimpse.”

“It weren’t an animal,” Sim said confidently. “Up on two legs an’ all.” She tugged at a haphazardly cut lock of black hair, scrunching her face up in thought. “Didn’t move like a person though.”

“What do you mean?”

“It moved… shaggily. Like shambling, but quicker.”

I blinked, trying to get a fix for what that meant in my head. As usual, Sim’s descriptions weren’t helpful to anyone but her. “Animalistic, you mean?”

She shrugged, looking down at her feet. “Didn’t want to say that, did I? Seems rude.”

That dragged a smile out of me. I reached up and patted her on the elbow. “Never change, Sim. Promise me.”

“So I can touch the water?”

“Absolutely not. Let’s go tell the others. And quickly.”

To my surprise, once we’d hurried (Sim far quicker than I) our way to the helm of The Otter, Jasper was piloting, thick blond eyebrows knitted together in intense concentration. The only acknowledgement we got from him was a flicker of his gaze, but Spices’ ears perked. Panting sparks, the tiny dragon bounded over and headbutted me in the shins. Sim only just caught me.

Gently but firmly moving the begging dragon aside, I asked, “Where’s Alby?”

My tone can’t have been as calm as I’d tried to pitch it because Jasper actually looked at me. He jerked his head towards the steps into the cramped interior. “He’s sortin’ his medicines.”

“But he already did that?” Keeping me awake most of the night too, but I didn’t say it out loud.

“He has a troubling presentiment,” Jasper’s voice dropped into a pitch-perfect imitation of Albie’s low, mixed-up accent. In his normal voice, he continued, “So he’s been frettin’ enough he gave me the wheel.”

“Obviously.” I took a deep breath, fingers curling into fists to stop my hands from shaking. “But there is someone –“

“- Or something!” Sim added, gleefully.

“– Watching and possibly following us from the bank. It might be why the river’s filling up with whatever this red liquid is –“ I held up my hand – “no, it’s not blood. I’m pretty sure of that. But whatever it is – whatever is causing it has to be strong. You’re one with the memory of a sage, Jasper, do you remember anything like that in your research?”

“I…”

“Any myths, any sightings, anything?”

“No.”

“Then we assume it’s new,” I went down the steps as quickly as I dared. Of all the adjustments Alby had made for me, they were still just a bit too high for my small frame. “And we assume it’s a threat.”

Sim was bouncing on the soles of her feet, eyes shining. “D’you reckon there’ll be a fight?”

I paused in the doorway. “I’m sixty-three. I’d rather there wasn’t.”

Then I went in to see if I could pull my oldest friend back from whatever brink he was standing on.

The living quarters were the usual mess of preparations (Jasper’s bunk was worse than mine, but not by much), but the frantic, clink-clink in the back made my heart sink to my feet. Carefully, noting the increasing rocking of the ship, I picked my way across the clothing-and-knickknacks-strewn floor and gently pulled aside the curtain.

It wasn’t good. Alby was hunched over his table, his vials and potions flashing in the last rays of the sun as he repositioned them with the swiftness of a card dealer. The quicker he moved them, the worse the storm in his mind.

It always reminded me of a chess player in the height of the game. Funny, I could always smash Alby at that. He wasn’t much of a cardsharp either.

I cleared my throat loudly, but the shuffling didn’t slow an iota. From behind, I could see the way his beloved moss-green shirt now shrouded his shoulders, excess material bunching under his braces, and that his white hair was flattened against his skull by repeated passes of his hand. He still had bruises too from our last assignment, yellow-green against his skin. I know us older folks take longer to heal up, but this was slow even for him.

I coughed again, wincing in anticipation, and said, “Are you winning?”

He started violently, entire body jackknifing in the chair. By some miracle, his flailing arms managed to miss every one of his precious medicines, but I heard - and felt - his knee slam into the table leg as he twisted.

“Godsdamnit!”

“Alby! It’s me!” I reached out and took his face in my hands, firmly forcing him to look at me. His beard was soft under my palms, his skin as weatherbeaten as my own. “Look, it’s just me, I’m sorry.”

He groaned softly and batted my hands away. “‘Lene, don’t -“ the sentence dissolved into a bout of coughing and he laid his head on the edge of the table.

I took a step closer and squeezed his shoulder. “You bastard,” I murmured, “you lied about feeling better.”

“I do -“ his voice was muffled - “but you caught me off-guard, that’s all.” He raised his head and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Besides, nobody looks the pinnacle of perfection and vitality when you petrify them near perdition.”

I opened my mouth to defend myself when I noticed the half smile hovering around the corner of his mouth.

I threw up my hands. “I’m looking up that sentence later, I don’t think those words mean what you think they do.”

But Alby smiled and that made the sun come out again.

[burnwater13]

The Frog Lady holding a blaster pistol while protecting her eggs from ice spider on the bridge of the Razor Crest (spiders out of frame). Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 2, The Passenger. Calendar from DataWorks.

Grogu wondered how many people had to deliver a lecture like that over the course of galactic history. Given how much unrest colored the events of even his lifetime it must have been a lot. Certainly, more than one. After all, what person wouldn’t defend the very existence of their family? He felt that kind of connection with the Mandalorian, even if Din Djarin was a bit more cavalier about the situation. 

Look at the situation they were in, for crying out loud! Crashed on an ice ball of a planet, or moon, or whatever it was, for what good reason? Because he didn’t want to talk to the New Republic folks for some reason? Now they were all in peril because the bounty hunter hadn’t wanted to explain something about tabs. Grogu didn’t even know what tabs were.

That’s why he appreciated the Frog Lady’s declaration. Sometimes Din Djarin was a little too single minded and only did what he thought was best. Grogu supposed that was ‘the Way’ when you were a single bounty hunter making your way in a dangerous galaxy, but that wasn’t the way things were now. Nope. Not at all. 

Sure, the Mandalorian had done a lot to keep Grogu safe and keep other people from hurting him, but Grogu had lifted his own weight when it came to saving people. Or more than his own weight when you thought about it. Mudhorns weren’t light after all. And helping people with cuts and scrapes and blaster wounds took some concentration, as did deflecting fire. That hadn’t been easy at all, but it sure had saved them all. Grogu was a force to be reconned with, no pun intended. 

Right up until the Mandalorian forgot all about his abilities and noticed his size. Then Din Djairn was getting in fights and pushing Grogu out of the way. Or like when they got to Tatooine and met the Marshal. Grogu thought Cobb Vanth was a pretty reasonable person, but the first thing his companion did was threaten him over some armor. Armor for crying out loud. Fortunately Cobb had been able to get the bounty hunter to relent and came up with a different deal and that went okay, more or less.

That was also another good example of how Din Djarin didn’t seem to have much of a feeling about how family was supposed to behave. He had Grogu right there and did he ask Grogu to help with the Krayt dragon? No. He did not. He asked the folks of Mos Pelgo. He asked the Sandpeople. But not his own his, whatever Grogu was to him. Ward. Charge. Dependent. 

He had felt like a dependent on that trip. Sure the Sandpeople fed him well and he liked the massiffs. They were great critters. But why not let him be part of the discussion of strategy and tactics? Why not let him see what he could do using the Force? Size wasn’t supposed to matter and Grogu thought that the guy who’d watched him lift up a Mudhorn would have realized that too. But no.

Now, the Frog Lady had to explain that they couldn’t just sit around freezing their fannies off hoping something good would happen. They would have to make something good happen, and the sooner the better. 

Grogu had to admit that he was pretty impressed with their passenger. She had managed to do the work on the droid vocabulator quietly enough for a Mandalorian to miss the noises she must have been making. The fact that she even knew how to do the work had clearly been a surprise to the bounty hunter. But then, why shouldn’t she know how to do that sort of thing? She must have done some sort of work to make her way to Tatooine. 

If she could do that, what else could she do? That’s what the Mandalorian should have been figuring out. If she could hot wire a droid head, maybe she could run diagnostics on the ship itself? Or use the tools that they had to fix it? Why not find out since she had something that translated the Gal Basic into Frogese and the Frogese back into Gal Basic? They could talk to her and get all the details they hadn’t been able to get when they first met.

But instead of taking her abilities and her lecture in good faith, he ignored them. He stomped out of the ship leaving both the Frog Lady and Grogu on their own. Wow. That didn’t seem like the sort of Way a Mandalorian should behave. Grogu had taken the opportunity to nap because the Frog Lady was keeping an eye on the eggs, like she was a shriek hawk and not a frog lady. 

But when he woke up, the eggs were gone! Then he realized that she was gone too. She must have taken the eggs somewhere. He went outside and found the Mandalorian to give him the low down and got nothing but grief for his trouble. You’d think that a Mandalorian would want to keep up information about the whereabouts of his passenger and all, but nope. He just wanted to Grogu to give him a hand with the repairs. Uff.  

Eventually, they found her eggs in a hot spring, so she could keep them warm. How’d she found the spring or even knew to look for it, was something Grogu never understood, but clearly it was all part and parcel of avoiding extinction. Grogu appreciated that a lot. It’s why he began to explore the areas near by and found the interesting pods. He wondered if they had anything in them… he was kind of hungry… and didn’t want to go extinct either.

The Frog Lady using the vocabulator from the droid head to communicate with the Mandalorian (out of frame). Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 2, The Passenger.

[misskatebishop]

Easy Fix

Word count: 2.591

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort.

Summary: You come back from the Blip and expect to meet Wanda soon, when it doesn't happen, you go after her.

A/N: Gif's not mine, and this is saved in my drafts for so long that I don't remember where I took it from. Let me know if it's yours, please.

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

You gasped on your desk, suddenly hit by the real world around you. You dreamt of falling, endlessly. You were falling and no one could reach you. Your fingers slipped through your girlfriend’s hand as the void swallowed you. You straightened up on the chair, running a hand over your hair. How long have you slept?

Last thing you remember you were talking to Wanda. She told you she had to go to Wakanda to stop whatever was coming, to help save the world once more. You worried, of course. You knew who your girlfriend was, but you still weren’t used to her running after the dangers of this and outer space. You thought you’d never get used to it.

She told you to not stay up until later in the office. You were supposed to go home, take a shower, make dinner, call to check in on her later. You promised you’d call. What must she be thinking now? Damn it, Y/N!

You look around the desk for your phone, except that’s not your desk. You frown at the unrecognizable folders there and the photos. What the hell? You’re sure you were at your office last night and you fell asleep on a pile of documents you were reading. It couldn’t be changed overnight, right? It couldn’t.

You stand up, looking at the shelves of books. These are not yours, even though you had some titles from there. You certainly didn’t have a leather couch in your office, and these curtains are too dark, it fills with sorrow, though the view was amazing. The door opens, and you turn around.

“Y/N?” One of your co-workers comes in, holding a cup of coffee

“Josh, what–?” You start to say, but he places the cup on the desk and wraps his arms around you. What the hell? You had seen each other at the end of the shift yesterday, why so dramatic?

“Oh my God, you came back. It’s true then,” Josh pulled apart. “Everyone’s coming back. Oh my God,” he laughs, walking out of the room.

You follow him, but you stop at the door frame, seeing other confused faces outside. People hugging each other. What’s happening? You look around for Josh, hugging another coworker. You pull his shoulder, so he’s facing you.

“What’s happening? Are we celebrating something? What–?” You look around, still confused.

“Y/N. You’ve been gone for five years. Thanos snapped half of the population in 2018,” you shake your head. No, it’s not possible. The Avengers wouldn’t let that happen. They went to Wakanda to stop Thanos. “It’s 2023. I don’t know how, but they found a way to reverse the Blip.”

You shake your head in denial. Five years. What the hell was he talking about? Was it some sort of prank?

You don’t like how it sounds.

***

The first week back after five years was a mess. Fortunately, you still have a roof to sleep on. Your apartment was covered in dust due to the lack of cleaning. The mold has taken the walls, and you jumped when you saw a rat passing between your boots. You had so much work to be done. Most of your products had passed the expiration date, and all your cards were blocked because you didn’t exist for five fucking years. Luckily, you find some banknotes in a purse. You order something to eat, and sit on your couch, coughing when the dusk makes itself present.

Fuck, your life was such a big mess right now. You pull your phone out of your pocket, Josh borrowed his charger when all your belongings were recovered by the enterprise sector. They kept a track of everyone’s stuff when you were all missing and kept it, more in the hopes that this day was coming.

Your battery was low. You were in a rush to go home, to face the world outside the doors of the enterprise. Honestly, the whole world was chaos with so many people coming back and finding out that the others moved on. Everything moved on while they were still trapped in their 2018 selves. You look at the picture of you and Wanda on your lockscreen before you dial her number. You weren’t expecting her to answer it, but you had to try it anyway.

It rang once before a robotic voice declared that the number was non-existent. Well, a lot of things were nonexistent in the last five years. Could Wanda have been blipped as well? You needed to find out.

You get your laptop, abandoned in our room for five years. You feel lucky when it does turn on. You type Wanda’s name on Google followed by The Avengers in another tab. You read everything you can about the Blip. You see Wanda’s name along with the Falcon, the King of Wakanda, the Winter Soldier, and even the android, Vision, who you knew had a close friendship with your girlfriend. These are just a small portion of famous names who blipped. You’re going through the last news related to the return of half of the population when someone knocks on your door.

You had forgotten you ordered pizza for dinner. You were starving. You thanked the delivery boy and went back to your laptop, finding out that some great names had died in the battle against Thanos. You sigh. There must be a way to find Wanda, right? You still lived in the same place, maybe she’d come looking for you after all. You hoped so.

***

A week later told you that something was wrong. Wanda didn’t show up at your doorstep as you expected. She hadn’t tried to call you or get in contact with you. You wanted to believe that she was trying to adjust to this new reality, struggling just as much as everybody else. However, you couldn’t get yourself to believe in your own words.

Something was very wrong.

This proved right when you were watching the news while also applying for jobs. The journalist announced that the Sentient Worlds Observation and Response Department aka S.W.O.R.D. had been invaded at the beginning of the week and a valuable item was stolen. You’ve never heard of the organization before, you couldn’t help but Google it. If they deal with threats, then maybe you could find some information on it. These types of organizations keep information on anything they think might be dangerous for humankind, including superheroes. Including an improved human with powers like Wanda’s.

So the next morning you made your move. You went to S.W.O.R.D., wanting to deal with it face-to-face. You enter the enormous facility, going straight to the counter situated in the middle of the lobby. You timidly approached, not sure what to say or who to talk to to get any information.

“Good morning, I–” you stutter, then you see a wall filled with portraits of S.W.O.R.D. directors. You get the name of the last one because you suppose he’s the current in charge. “I’d like to talk to Tyler Hayward.”

The man on the side of the counter frowned.

“Mr. Hayward doesn’t have any visits scheduled for today,” he replies.

“It’s important,” you insist.

“Ma’am, I can’t allow your entry.”

“Does he have any other available date in his agenda? I really need to talk to him, please.”

“I’m not allowed to display this information.”

“Is he here?” You ask, looking around. “It’ll be quick.”

“Ma’am, I need you to leave or I’ll call security,” the man warns.

He can call whoever the fuck he wants, you’re not leaving without news.

“Please, it’s about Wanda Maximoff, sir,” you plead.

This immediately catches the man’s attention.

“What did you say?” He asks, even though you’re sure he understood very well.

“It’s about Wanda Maximoff,” you repeat.

“What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” The man nods, he talks to someone on the phone informing of your presence, then he types something on his computer before standing and asking you to follow him.

You follow him through the white corridors, getting on an elevator he presses the button to the floor you expect it’s where Hayward is. When the door opens, he guides you through a few rooms, making you feel lost inside the facility, then he opens a door and you step in. The man in front of you is exactly like the one in the photo downstairs. There are other people in the room with him, advisors and agents, you supposed. Is there a threat you and the rest of the world weren’t aware of?

“Please, Ms. Y/L/N, take a seat,” Tyler Hayward waves the hand in front of him.

“Thank you,” you sit down, aware of all those eyes on you.

“You said you’re here to talk about Wanda Maximoff, correct?” Hayward asks and you nod. “What’s your relationship with her?”

“She’s my girlfriend. She’s the last person I talked to before I blipped, and since I came back I–” your voice cracks. “I haven’t heard of her.”

“And what makes you think we have information on her?” A woman asks, you turn to face her. She looked tired, and she wasn’t well-dressed as the others, so you suppose she’s an agent in action.

“She’s not an ordinary human,” you reply.

Hayward smirks.

“You’re right, Ms. Y/L/N. Right now she’s more of a threat to a small city.”

“What?” You frown. “A threat? What do you mean? Wanda would never hurt anyone.”

“She’s keeping Westview under her influence,” the woman replies. “I got in there, but once she realized I was an intruder, she expelled me,” you look at her badge, it’s written Monica Rambeau. She’s not just an agent, she’s probably the daughter of the founder you’d seen on the wall. You wonder why it’s not her sitting on that chair, though.

Hayward leans forward.

“You might be the help we need. We want to reassure everyone’s safety, including Wanda’s. If you can help us to make Wanda see reason…”

“I’ll help. I just want to bring her back home,” you agree.

“Good,” Hayward looks at Monica. “She’s coming with us.”

***

When you finally get to Westview it’s already dark. You look at the holographic wall closing the entrance of the city in awe. Everyone keeps their distance from it. Hayward and Monica lead you to a tent to discuss the plan.

On your way there, they’ve told you that Wanda invaded the facility because they were holding Vision’s corpse. Hayward talks about their disagreement about Vision’s final destination. Wanda wanted to bury him, he was a very dear friend, of course. You understand her point. Hayward, however, couldn’t allow her to bury one of the most precious metals in the world: vibranium.

A valid point as well, you think. Nevertheless, you also knew that Wanda has never dealt well with grief. She lost her whole family due to a missile in Sokovia, then her twin brother because of Ultron. She always whispered to you that she couldn’t handle losing you too. She begged you on the phone to stay safe when Thanos came.

The plan seemed simple. They’re going to send a drone in. Captain Monica Rambeau would try to communicate to Wanda in order to be as smooth as possible about the whole situation. If it didn’t work, then you’d be the one responsible to convince Wanda to stop.

You moved back and forth in the room when Hayward and Monica came in. There was a whole team working on it. What the hell was Wanda thinking about? You feared for her safety, the USA Government wouldn’t disregard it so easily. Wanda would be punished, and her sentence would be even higher if any citizen was damaged in this process.

The drone was sent in. You could see it approaching the red-haired. Wanda tilts her head, almost as if challenging the object to get closer to her. Monica speaks in a soft tone, but it doesn’t seem to have any effect on Wanda, instead, her eyes start glowing in red.

“Engage,” Hayward orders.

“What?” You and Monica shout. You should’ve known he wouldn’t spare Wanda. For them, she was a threat they were determined to eliminate.

“No!” You say, approaching Wanda. “Let me talk to her!” Hayward pushes you backward.

The screen turns gray. You’ve lost signal. You can believe it. You want to punch Hayward, but that’s not the moment because a siren sounds.

“There’s a breach, sir,” an agent alerts.

Immediately, Hayward, Monica, and the other agents start to move. He stops for a second, signing for two agents. “Stay with her. Don’t let her walk out till my signal.”

“What? No!” You yell, but you’re held back by the agents.

Tears stream down your face. What are they going to do? Are they going to kill her? You can’t let that happen. You shake your head, wondering what’s going on on the outside. Hayward’s goons don’t let you even stand. Then, you heard the voice on the radio. “Bring her.”

You sigh in relief. If they had shot, you’d have listened from here. You walk out followed by the men. You see the jeeps, the men with their guns aimed somewhere. No, on someone. Green dots aimed at her chest. You can see her from here. Monica approaches in an attempt to talk some sense into her. Wanda’s hand glows red, ready to defend her territory.

“How? What could you possibly have to offer me?” Wanda asks. She sounds miserable.

That’s your cue. The agents push you forward, and you stumble on the grass. Idiots. They are all idiots if they think they can harm Wanda with their pathetic guns.

Wanda’s eyes focus on you. Hayward stands out his hand so the agents let you pass.

“Wanda,” you say, ignoring Hayward and Monica. You don’t care about the guns aimed at you. You run your way to her. God, how you missed her. You wrap your arms around her, pressing your face on the crook of her neck.

“Y/N, is it really you?” You feel Wanda wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

You pulled apart to stare her in the eyes. “It’s me. It’s really me, Wanda.” You cried out. “I missed you so much. I’ve been waiting for you.”

Wanda wipes off the tears on your cheeks, kissing them away. “I’m sorry for not going after you. I’m sorry.” Wanda sobs as she keeps mumbling a chore of I’m sorry against your skin.

“It’s okay. I understand,” you assure her. For a moment you forget where you are and what your mission is. You don’t care. You just want to stay here with Wanda and ignore the real world with real problems.

“Wanda,” Hayward calls her.

Wanda doesn’t let you go, keeping you pressed against your body.

“I have what I want, and no one will ever take it from me again,” Wanda declares.

Wanda’s eyes glow and Hayward yells. You turn around to see that the guns are now aimed at him.

“Are you coming with me, my darling?” Wanda holds your hand. She’s giving you a choice. It’s take or leave it.

You can either live a perfect life with Wanda or go back to the chaos your life has become. It’s an easy fix. You intertwine your fingers in hers. You smile.

“I’m never letting you go ever again.”

Taglist: @haeva @abimess

[awakeshedreams]

sugar and spice ( 1 )

pairing : resident bad boy!jjk x model student!reader

setting : highschool!au x stepbrother!au

summary :

a messy highschool!au x stepbrother!au where model student reader who has quite a few dirty little secrets sees her world take an unexpected turn when her mother comes home one day with an engagement announcement, to the father of none other than the school's resident bad boy.... Jeon Jungkook.

genre : smut, for laughs, kinda pornish, slow burn with collosaly overwhelming sexual tension

rating: soft m ( for now ) due to adult content

warnings : unconventional relationship of sexual nature, tropes and clichès, teenagers partaking in porn-esque activities, made up things with made up people happening in a made up world, don't like don't read XD

wordcount : 2.3K

a/n : i've been fighting in a long standing war and I have lost. the man known as jeon jungkook had his foot on my neck for years and today, I have finally submitted to my fate and surrendered to his reign.

yes. after a hundred years, i'm writing again. specifically, writing for bts. particularly, writing for jungkook. its been a long time coming.

life just took over and I transitioned into an adult and kind of grew out of the state of mind I was in before. but. sigh. jeon jungkook has been tormenting me the whole time. it was only a matter of time before i relapsed honestly.

so here I am again. in mind, body and spirit, a different person from who I was before but still the same in the sense that with the way bts have my whole heart, jk will always be the demon in the corner of my room that I invite to bed for a cuddle even though it's (probably really) not good for me.

do not misconstrue. I love him more than I can say. but. sigh. he has me in a chokehold, loves. please try to understand where I'm coming from.

anyways, enough with this ranting. you all came here for the nitty gritty so let me not hold you hostage with my dilemma rambling any longer. here's to the first bts fic i've posted in literal years. introducing- sugar and spice.

1 2

Unless they told someone, no one would have been able to guess it.

At school they were complete strangers.

She was the nice head girl with a clean record, all smiles and straight A’s. He was the mysterious bad boy with a track record, all tatted up with bruised knuckles.

She wore plaid skirts with neat pleads in them and pastel sweaters with bows at the collar. He wore jeans with rips in them and leather jackets with studs.

They couldn't have been any more different.

As far as anyone was concerned, they existed on two extreme ends of a vast spectrum.

What they didn't know was that they shared a dirty little secret.

.

You were a girl with many dirty secrets.

For instance, you used to sell nudes online. It was a side hustle you did.

Not because you needed money.

Your mom was a renowned doctor so there was more than enough of that in your life.

Not because you needed validation from people online either.

Even without the constant compliments and the praises you knew you were visually blessed with a pretty face and a nice body too.

All things considered, you simply thought you had a nice pair of tits and you took pictures of them sometimes.

Posting the shots you snapped online came much later when you heard about this website where people were getting paid crazy money for posting racy things.

‘It’s just so degrading…’ It was one of your friends, June, who sneered, pretty nose scrunched up. She fixed her long ponytail and rolled her brown eyes while looking in the mirror at her locker. ‘Who would do such a thing, am I right?’

She said this, but June was the girl who has slept with more boys than she could count on her two hands. And those were the ones she told you about.

Like every other time, you said nothing. Even when it carried on to lunch with the rest.

‘Pretty desperate if you ask me.’ Mei the stellar track runner shrugged casually as she stretched her limbs like routine.

‘Where are their parents?’ Nina the library nerd shook her head in disapproval as she fixed her glasses so it sat right on the bridge of her nose.

‘Um… I don’t think it’s … appropriate… to talk about ….’ Kiko the one who always carried a cross and bible around mumbled into her sleeve.

All your friends spoke of it in derision and repulsion of course. This was a school for proper children so they were proper girls. At least they were supposed to be.

Regardless the conversation sparked a curiosity in you.

So you made an account and uploaded your first picture. Nothing bizarre. Just your tits in a pretty lace bra.

You made sure to keep your face out of the frame because that was the smart thing to do and you were nothing if not the smartest student in school.

In all honesty, you weren’t expecting anything out of it. In fact, in between work with student council and tutoring your juniors with finals right around the corner, you even forgot about it for an entire month.

It was by a complete whim that you decided to open the app while you’d been unwinding at your desk following a tedious day at school.

To say you were amused by the response you found waiting for you would have be a grave understatement.

You were staring at the four figure digit that now sat in your bank account.

Reading through the comment section was even more interesting.

There were all sorts of people there who had all sorts of things to say. Ranging from honestly sweet to downright dirty.

You had never been brought to tears laughing in her life before until then.

It was just so funny to see people misbehave and lose their minds over a pair of tits.

From then on it just sort of became a thing.

.

But that wasn't the worse of your secrets.

You were making a name for yourself on the crude web months later.

The next step was naturally to move from making taking pictures to making videos. Since you was already in too deep you didn’t see why not.

So you upgraded and opened another account. An amateur one where your touched yourself for an audience.

You were no prude.

You might have never been touched by a boy before but you had touched yourself plenty times. Stress and frustration came hand in hand with being head girl. Since you couldn’t quite vent it out at the annoying troublemakers at school, this was your second best option.

Third was watching porn, but that was mostly when you were extremely bored.

But that wasn’t where that little endeavor ended.

Later on it became a lot more risqué.

.

It all started when your mom hit you with a marriage announcement.

She met a guy on her business trip who she really liked and she was convinced he was the one.

Your mom had a tragic history of being a bad judge of character.

You’ve had this conversation at least five times since you became old enough to understand that boys and girls who were just friends didn’t kiss and sleep with each other.

Most times, it felt like she was doing it because she thought you needed a dad around.

You might have once, when you were younger and your mom was too busy with work to be there. But she worked from home these days and you were soo busy with school to worry about things like that.

This time it was like she was doing it for her. You were glad.

Your mom looked genuinely happy when she spoke about this guy.

Who were you to get in the way?

.

She spent almost the whole weekend in the kitchen. It was the longest you’ve seen her in there in your entire life.

She was excited for the dinner on Sunday.

Mr Jeon was the name of the chosen man.

He was coming over with his kid. A son, his only family. His wife passed away years ago.

You wore the dress your mom picked out for you, something cream in color and off the shoulders that brushed your knees. She looked pretty in her champagne dress. It was different from the office slacks and loose blouses you were used to seeing her in.

You stood by her at the door while the guests came through.

Lifting your head from a polite bow, you found herself staring straight into an achingly familiar pair of glinting dark eyes and went completely still.

‘Sweetie,' Your mother said sounding delighted, a soft hand on your stiff shoulder. 'This is Mr Jeon and his son Jungkook.’

Ah. Fuck.

‘Jeon dear, this is my daughter. Isn’t she lovely?’

.

Dinner was a mild affair, with small talk and the occasional clinking of cutlery on fine china.

From the outside looking in, you probably looked the picture perfect family already.

Only if no-one looked close enough.

Arms crossed, tongue in cheek. Your discomfort could be detected from miles away.

The two adults were oblivious.

The dark eyed boy with the slightest wave to his nape touching, brow grazing, ear covering onyx hair sat across you though; he took note of this with a passing glance and wordlessly returned to his food.

Jeon Jungkook had a countenance that betrayed his reputation.

Even though you’ve never talked, you knew plenty about him and you were sure he knew a lot about you too.

You went to the same school.

Dressed as he was in a crisp white dress shirt buttoned at the wrist and dark tailored pants with a fine belt on, it might have been hard to tell what kind of person he really was.

You lifted her gaze from your plate to look study him wordlessly, idly twisting the noodles with your fork.

People either called him the black sheep or the dark cloud but for you, Jeon Jungkook was the school’s resident lone wolf.

He smoked in the secluded areas on campus, sometimes playing his guitar. Beat up people who got on his nerves, sometimes using his guitar. Slept in class the rare times he was there, many times on his guitar.

Being his senior, you had never seen any of any of that for yourself. But you received plenty reports weekly to come to a sound conclusion.

There was no way people hated him enough to join hands in solidarity and make this all up.

It was quite the contrary actually. He had an alarming number of fans.

On the surface level you couldn’t see why. Most times you saw him, he looked bored out his mind and honestly, intimidating.

Maybe it was the tattoos. Or the ripped skinny jeans. Or the leather jackets with studs.

Maybe it was the domineering height and fit frame and structured face.

Maybe it was the intense dark eyes or the silky ruffled hair.

Even then, you failed to see the irresistible appeal in him. All those things that made him up only added to his unapproachable aura.

Bottom line was, he was bad news.

.

You didn’t want to be a spoil sport.

But how much of a thug your mom’s boyfriend’s son was shouldn’t be something that would make her like him less.

They were both their own people. Right ?

It was just that you just didn’t want her to be shocked and devastated if something happened later. When it happened.

Yet it seemed the serious conversation would have to wait.

After dinner your mom suggested you head to the living room to chat over wine and cheese.

You stayed back to do take out the dishes.

Earlier, your mom had stood to do it instead at first.

‘Don’t bother with that, dear.’ She reached for the plates in your hands. ‘Let me do it.’

‘It’s okay, mom.’ You smiled a little. ‘This is your night. I’ll meet you in the living room.’

'Sweetie...' Your mom looked close to tears. ‘But there’s so much of it…’

‘Jungkook,’ his father's voice had cut through the moment. He was a serious man in a crisp suit with a stoic countenance. His voice was just naturally authoritarian without him trying ‘Give her a hand.’

Jungkook stood, almost robotically.

‘It’s fine.’ You said. Politely. Nicely. Tightly. ‘I can handle this much.’

You left without another word.

That had been moments ago and now you were done with cleaning.

You stood at living room entrance for a while, taking in the scene.

The two adults were exchanging moon eyes and whispering in each other’s ears at the love seat.

Jungkook was sitting on a solo seat, but he was on his phone, completely unbothered by what was happening.

Your mom seemed to think it was the perfect time to pull out the photo album right then and there upon seeing you.

It was embarrassing but at least you knew you didn’t have to worry about the pictures spreading at school.

Jungkook was looking, picking up a picture occasionally to rove over, but he wasn’t the type to do that.

He also wasn’t the type to stare but you felt his glance shifting to you and lingering multiple times.

Once, you caught his eyes and he just stared at you across the coffee table wordlessly with a curious tilt to his head, idly flipping a picture of you dressed as a knight in glitter shining armor for Halloween at eight in his hands.

Honestly, it was starting to get annoying.

But you endured. For your mom’s sake.

.

Your alarm went off at exactly ten.

As subtly as you could, you excused yourself with an apology to the guests, saying you weren't really feeling well.

In hindsight you probably should have used a better excuse.

Your mom was notorious when it came to worrying, especially when it comes to your health.

Also, you probably should’ve locked the door before undressing just for good measure since people were over.

But in the moment, you were too busy setting your camera up where you were kneeling on the floor at the foot of the bed to be concerned about that.

That day you were testing out a new toy.

.

Distractedly, you took note of a couple of people asking you if that was your boyfriend’s shirt you had lifted over your tits.

You ignored them.

Couldn’t a girl own an oversized tee without getting any flack?

Trivial comments like that aside, a good majority of the audience are fawning over how wet you were and how perfect you bouncing tits look being played with.

Your head fell back and your eyes fluttered shut.

You were sitting there, knees raised to your chest and legs splayed, your gushing pussy in full display where the toy was stuffed deep into her tightness, vibrating pleasantly.

‘I’m close…’ you mumbled throatily, squeezing your tits and pinching your stiff nipples in between your moving fingers. You moved your hips move faster, feeling the toy buzz against fluttering walls. You took a hand off one of your tits to rub at your engorged clit. ‘Fuckfuckfuck…’

Deep in your high, you didn’t hear the door open and close with a foreboding click.

You only heard your name being called by a deep, smooth voice through the heady haze.

Instantly you stilled.

When you snapped your head to look over her shoulder Jungkook was there, hands in his pockets, leaning against your doorframe with his sleeves drawn up to his elbows, muscle roped, inked skin on full display.

When he tilted his head to the side a little, appraisively, you dared to say as a quaking chill ran down your spine and your entire body felt like it was about to burst into flames, a bit of his hair fell over his face.

His eyes were like two black in the dark as he took you in, dragging his gaze up and down your exposed body languidly.

In the back of your mind, you wished the ground would part and swallow you whole.

‘Your mom,' he starts, capturing your attention wholly, dark gaze finally flickering to your face, his voice suddenly lower, hoarser. ‘She sent me over to check on you.’

It took you a moment to realize where you were, who you were, who he was.

It was like a bucket of cold water had been dropped over your head.

Jeon Jungkook, the school's resident trouble maker, soon to be your step brother, just walked in on you fingering yourself in in front of a recording camera.

Well. Yeah.

You gulped.

You were royally fucked.

depending on the response I get I might ( most probably will ) delete this. not because I'm ashamed of my work. because I'm embarrassed of myself. I really swore to never write again and here I am. sigh. yes, I have seen my previous works and noticed just how terrible they were and this is a big reason why. so sorry for putting you through that. a million apologies.

also, that's right. I have adopted a new style which might not be to everyone's liking. another reason why.

anyways, if you liked this filth ( i know it seems mild but I can tell you it's very likely gonna get worse ) please idk uh... fuck this isn't ao3. hm.

like and drop by in the ask box if you liked it and want to see more. it makes me happy. its like serotonin fuel to me.

have a nice day. see you next time ( maybe ). stay fresh. yeah. 💜💜.

[tenkasato]

Hellow, Ten~ May I make a request with some Gojo comfort fluff? Something like what you wrote with Megumi x nurse reader? Alittle angst if you must? TY in advance!

Alright. It was supposed to be angst... but it turned out more fluff than angst which I HAD NOT intended. There's a sprinkle of angst so I hope you like that, anon. Enjoy!

A Modest Invitation

Scenario: Gojo is feeling down, and you have ways to entertain him.

Warning: suggestive language, swearing, overloaded fluff I guess

As far as Gojo Satoru was concerned, this was his favorite time of the day.

Business was the same as usual. Curses to exorcise and erase from existence. Problems to mull over and draft solutions to. Children to nurture and guide. And so on, so on, so on, and so forth...

Mind you, being the strongest sorcerer doesn't exempt you from feeling burned out.

He buried his face unto your stomach, nuzzling his nose on the thin fabric that covered your skin and inhaling your fresh, floral scent. Being able to touch you, to feel your existence palpable under his fingers gave him a relief that kept him sane for the past few days.

You were still here. Alive. Breathing. With him.

"Not going to tell me I’m heavy?" he asked as he smiled against you.

You clicked your tongue, and with a trace of amusement and affection, you said, "You won’t be getting off me even if I did, right? So, what’s the point?"

"My wife is such a smart woman."

"Sure am," you snorted.

He felt your hand run through his still wet hair in ginger strokes, straightening the tangles at the tips and drawing circles on his scalp. He heaved a heavy sigh.

Your fingers stopped midway between a stroke. "Something wrong, Satoru?"

Satoru raised his head in surprise. "Huh?"

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh, come on. I’ve known you since we were in diapers. I know what every sigh you make means.”

Satoru held you in his stare, and you couldn't help but drown into those aquamarine eyes that engulfs your whole existence. You loved those eyes. You loved them dearly.

“I heard you worked with your ex today,” he said in a quiet voice. The unease in his tone made you blink. He had tried to speak with nonchalance but you heard the apprehension nonetheless.

"Is someone jealous?" you teased, the smirk in your face unconcealed. "Glad the day finally came."

He snapped his head up to meet your gaze, lifting his torso up with his arms so he could properly fix you a heated, sullen glare. "Not funny."

"Oh, come on. I used to get jealous of your ladies before. Give me a chance to be the one getting jealous over this time."

"That doesn't sound fair," he whined this time. Satoru crawled towards you until his face was directly over yours. "You're doing it on purpose."

You stared back at him innocently. "And why would I do that?”

He lied down beside you with his arm caged around your torso. You shifted and snuggled up to him.

You reached out to his face as if to console him, pressing the pads of your fingers on his jaw and thumbing his lower lip. You stayed like that for a couple more minutes, basking under the dim light by the corner and plainly listening to each other’s breathing. He thought you had fallen asleep when you had stopped moving, until he felt a light pressure on his chin.

“Jokes aside,” you started when he finally got a look at you, “are you okay? I didn't think you'd be bothered by something like that. You know there's nothing to worry about my ex, right?”

Glancing away, he said, embarrassed, “It’s… I feel so insignificant lately.”

The stare you returned was so intense he could feel your eyes boring into him even without having to look at you. You didn’t ask him to elaborate. You waited, knowing he needed time to articulate his thoughts. Sometimes, he wished you weren't this receptive to him. Being so weak in front of you made him loathe himself even more than he already had.

The day you got married, he poured his heart out with promises of being your respite, your fortress, your source of joy. He thought he could, but with all the responsibilities piled on top of his head, he realized he couldn't give you all the time you deserved.

How many times had he missed your call?

How many times did you have to sleep on the bed at night, cold and alone?

How many times did you hide your tears from him because you didn't want to be an additional burden?

“Look at me,” your voice was a mere whisper.

Reluctantly, he did. He gazed at your serene smile, a glimmer of adoration covering your eyes with a sheen.

Then, with all sinceirty and seriousness, you said, “Wanna fuck?”

Taken aback, Satoru recoiled from you, nearly knocking himself out of the bed. He gaped at you as if you’d just openly admitted being a vampire for a century now.

You let out a string of rude laughter at his stupefied state. “I really love it when you blush like that.”

“You—aren’t you being too bold with—with—you know what? Never mind,” he groaned and inched back into your outstretched arms. “I should’ve been used to your unpredictable, horny episodes.”

“Hey, I ain’t horny now,” you retorted, slightly scandalized. “It just looked like you could use some.”

“It’s hardly the time,” he grumbled with the roll of his eyes.

You, with all the theatrics of a broadway actress, pressed your hand on your chest and gasped. “Oh my goodness. Who are you? My husband would never have turned me down for sex.”

He hissed your name with a warning tone.

The mischievous mold in your face ebbed away like melting wax. Your eyes were speaking to him in a language he could not decipher, in a volume so quiet it was deafening. Whatever emotion you were trying to emanate to him, the unsaid promise of devotion and love—they were so painfully genuine it made his heart ache.

Your face broke into a smile, bitter and sweet, and he found himself returning it.

Suddenly, your smile evolved into nasty Cheshire cat grin, and that alone should’ve been enough cue for him to retreat. But he was a second too late from reacting when your hand shot out and pinched his nose hard.

He let out a yell of utter surprise and pain, earning a roar of thunderous laughter from the despicable you beside him. Cheeks burning, he grabbed his pillow and without preamble, threw it at your face.

You squealed at his sudden retaliation. Wasting no time, you released your battle cry and threw your entire frame in an attempt to tackle him. He smirked at the futile attack but his cockiness came blowing in his face when you poked at his sides.

“Hey!” he yelped as you tickled. “Hey—haha—HEY—“

“Do you—“ you grunted as he pinched your cheeks raw, “—yield?”

“Hell no,” he spits, “not when I’m winning—pAHAHAHA—!”

Satoru took you by surprise when he wrapped his legs around you, pinning his knees on both sides of your hips and twisted his body. You weren't given a chance to yell. Your back connected with the bed with him sitting on top of your thighs, a triumphant grin painted on his face.

“Do you yield?” he asked, catching your wrists before you took another jab at his ribs.

“You do know,” you huffed, “that I can take you down. If I wanted to, yeah?”

“I have no doubts,” he chuckled almost proudly. “But you’re too pure-hearted to hurt the love of your life.”

“Hmm... cocky little bastard.”

“But you love me,” he insisted.

You exhaled in exasperation. “Come here before you suffocate my thighs.”

Laughing, he obliged, lying back beside you all ruffled and warm inside. As you had always, you scooted closer and laid your head on his chest, arm and leg thrown over the rest of his body.

Your sigh of contentment was music to his ears.

“Feel better now?”

“A lot better.”

“Ready to talk now?”

He hugged you closer. He wanted to be closer even though he didn't know how to. If there's anything he's afraid of, it's not being enough for you.

“You matter,” you said, as if reading his frown and hearing his thoughts. “You matter the most to me.”

He turned to embrace you fully, planting a kiss on your forehead. His fingers gingerly ghosted your spine, easing you into his body.

“Hey, Sunshine.”

“Hmm?”

He let his hand slide down your back to your bottom and squeezed, his solemn features morphing to a wolfish smirk.

“Mind if I take you up on that offer?”

[arvandus]

The Sound of Silence (18+ Aizawa x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Aizawa x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: After once again being stood up for a date at your favorite jazz club, you decide to give up dating entirely in favor of watching and fantasizing about your favorite jazz musician, Aizawa Shouta.  You had assumed you’d never meet him face to face.  You had assumed that he didn’t even know you existed.  You’re about to learn that your assumptions are wrong.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY/NSFW; reader wears a sexy black dress (minimally described); minor sexual harassment; slow build; praise kink (if you squint); hand kink (probably); fingering; ‘baby’ petname.

Special Note:  A few days late, but here’s my contribution to the BNHarem January Collab ‘Making Beautiful Music’ posted by @kingexpl0sionmurder​​. It was supposed to be a oneshot, but this particular piece got a mind of its own and will at least have a sequel. If we’re all really lucky, it may become a multichapter series in the far and distant future, when my life is less crazy (I have ideas, ok??).  In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this fic!

Word Count: 9486

Recommended Song: No specific song at the moment, but this was what I listened to while writing this.

Lesson 1

It was crowded tonight, the air of the small club Midnight hot and heavy with the scent of cigar smoke and booze. The noise of conversations and laughing voices filled the air like the buzzing of a hive, as bodies mingled about like busy bees, each looking for their own bit of nectar.  Some looking to win romance.  Some looking to win money.  While others were simply winning by enjoying the company of friends.  Their movements were carried on the music that filled the space, upbeat jazz played by a three-person band.  It was comforting in its familiarity, developed over multiple visits – some with friends, some with coworkers, and some with potential love interests.

You sat at the bar, a drink held protectively in your hand as your eyes searched.  You checked your phone for messages but found none.  It’d been a full twenty minutes and you were pretty sure by this point that your date wasn’t going to show up.  It was supposed to be your first date in over a month, and you’d had high hopes for it - you’d clicked well with the person on your dating app (or so you thought), talking over the course of a couple of weeks before finally deciding to meet. So tonight, you’d put in a little extra effort into your appearance, donning a black dress that showed off your curves and putting careful attention into your makeup.

Damn. You were genuinely interested in this one.

You sent them a quick text in the hopes that you’d get a response.  Give them an extra ten minutes… You thought. Maybe they were caught in traffic or something.

But by the time you hit the 45-minute mark with no messages, you’d officially given up.  A half-hearted sigh fell past your painted lips. You weren’t really too surprised by this point.  You’d been having terrible luck in the dating scene for a while now.  Sometimes it was them.  Sometimes it was you.  But for whatever reason, each attempt ended in failure.

Oh well. It was likely for the best.  At least you would be able to enjoy the rest of your evening in solitude instead of enduring a potentially disastrous date.  And as for your attire, it certainly didn’t hurt to feel sexy, even if you had no one to share it with.

You loved this place. The atmosphere, the music… you’d even managed to make friends with the bartender Hizashi to the point that he’d walk you to your car on the nights that you stayed until closing.

Your eyes scanned around the room, observing.  Wooden tables littered the main floor, where small lit candles cast yellow light on observing faces, eyes trained on the musicians.  Booths lined along the far wall, filled mostly with men who puffed cigars over a game of cards, their raucous laughter carrying through the din.  Closer to the bar was an arrangement of tall, round tables with matching bar height chairs. A group of women, likely on a ladies’ night out, filled the table closest to you, taking shots and laughing, their heels perched on the rungs.  Waiters zigzagged their way through the crowd with expert precision, platters held high with drinks and snacks, while patrons milled about, waiting for an open table.

And, of course, there was the stage itself, where the jazz band finished their final piece before collecting their instruments and leaving the small stage.  All that was left from their departure was a black baby grand piano, property of the club.  Your pulse quickened as you checked your watch.  Was it that time already?

Not a moment later, there he was.  Long, black, wavy hair pulled back into a half ponytail, the hint of a 5 o’ clock shadow dusting his jawline and framing his lips.  He was dressed in simple clothes, as always… a black v-neck shirt with the sleeves pushed halfway up his forearms and dark jeans.  He entered the stage without so much a glance towards the busy room, instead making his way to the piano with his hands in his pockets. He sat down and from your position at the bar, you could barely see his long fingers arrange themselves at the keys, gently curled.

As soon as he began to play, the mood in the club shifted slightly from buzzing to relaxing.  The flow of his fingers across the keys drew a lazy melody reminiscent of rainy days and hot coffee; of snuggling under warm blankets, feet intertwined with a lover who danced their fingers across your skin, gently tickling your flesh the way his fingers tickled those keys.

Aizawa Shouta.

Of course you knew his name. The first time you’d heard him play, you’d felt weightless, your body going numb as every sensation coalesced into your chest like the forming of a star.  The question of his identity had fallen from your lips before you’d even realized it, and it had been Hizashi who’d answered you, a chuckle on his lips.

Fuck.  It felt like he was making love to you through the notes, each key meticulously selected like a carefully-worded love letter. It made your palms sweat against your glass, your breath hitching in your throat as that familiar sensation took you over, holding you hostage.

This.  This was probably why none of the people you dated ever seemed to work out.  You’d tried… God, you’d tried… some of them were nice, good people.  But you couldn’t help but search for that feeling – this feeling – each time you met someone new.  And every single time it fell short. It was an impossible standard, an invisible bar that no one was able to jump.  Deep down you knew this, yet you couldn’t figure out how to let it go. It was just music, right? Played by a handsome man who didn’t even know you existed.  But you didn’t want to let go of this feeling, to settle for someone that made you feel only an inkling of what he made you feel.  Or worse, to let it go and be left with emptiness.

You had no solutions. You were trapped in Aizawa’s maze of music, unwilling to find your way out as his notes weaved a cage around your heart.

You lost yourself to his melody, the club around you fading away.  Time lost its meaning as you watched his hands dance along the keys, his fingers nimble.  His half-lidded eyes were fixed on the instrument before him, his expression neutral.  To anyone else watching, he would look almost bored; but you’d seen him play often enough that you’d grown accustomed to reading the nuances of his body language, even across the smoky haze.  You knew his look of boredom was really a look of focus as he submerged himself in his art, his hands playing on instinct, a direct link between what he felt and what he expressed.

He loved what he did.

And you loved watching.

Hizashi’s voice interrupted your hypnosis.  “Another night solo, huh?”

You took a look at the bartender as he prepped some cocktails for some waiting patrons.  He had his wire-framed spectacles on again, the orange tinted ones, the color visible from the white backlight of the bar. His long blonde hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and he wore a pinstriped shirt adorned with a black waistcoat.

You chuckled and took a sip of your drink. “It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“You got stood up again?” You shrugged and Hizashi shook his head slightly.  “If they ain’t willing to show up, then they ain’t worth your time.”

“Probably more like the other way around, don’t ya think?” you replied wryly.

Hizashi scoffed. “Don’t let them get to you. They don’t know what they’re missing.”

You grinned and set your glass down.  “Are you flirting with me, Hizashi?”

He grinned back and winked at you through his spectacles.  “Always, darlin’.”

You chuckled and returned your eyes to the stage. “It’s okay…” you said thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s time I stopped trying.”

“Mhm…” Hizashi watched you stare at Aizawa and he raised an eyebrow.  “Y’know, I can get you an introduction if you’d like…”

“What??”

“Don’t play coy with me, darlin’.  You know who I’m talking about.  If you want to meet him, I can introduce you to him. We’re good friends, he and I. Known each other for years.” He commented.

You weren’t surprised by this news… you’d seen Aizawa join Hizashi at the bar on rare occasions after his performance was done.  But you’d always been occupied at a table with company when it happened. 

Watching him from a distance was one thing.  But actually meeting him?  Up close? Where you couldn’t hide your girlish infatuation?

You felt your pulse quicken with dread, heat flooding your body.  “No, it’s okay.  I wouldn’t want to inconvenience him.”

Hizashi gave you a skeptical look over the rim of his glasses before he shrugged. “Suit yourself, darlin’.”

The blonde stepped away, a new group of customers hollering for his attention.  You took a large gulp of your drink hoping it would quell your nerves at the thought of meeting the man on stage.  No. You definitely didn’t want to meet him.  The last thing you needed was for your interaction with him to be a dud just like it was with all the others, destroying your own secret little fantasy. He was handsome to look at.  And you fantasized about his skilled hands when you were in the quiet of your bedroom. But that was all it was; just harmless daydreams over someone you didn’t really know or plan to get to know. Besides, if you’d ever thought you had a chance with him, you certainly wouldn’t be trying to meet people through a dating app.

Gradually the time ticked by as you enjoyed watching the dark-haired man play, Hizashi stopping in to check on you from time to time and place fresh drinks in front of you.  You were content for the time being, enjoying the steady buzz you were maintaining as you enjoyed the ambiance.  Occasionally you people watched or engaged in conversation with Hizashi when he wasn’t busy… but for the most part, you relaxed as you observed the raven-haired pianist, letting his music ease the tension in your shoulders as the alcohol warmed your bones.

A few hours later, as you were busy talking with Hizashi, the final note on the piano rang out, signaling the end of Aizawa’s shift.  The sudden silence hit you like a bucket of ice water, and your eyes darted towards the stage, your heart pumping panic through your veins.  You had planned to leave just before his shift ended, just to make sure you didn’t run into him.  Maybe it was the daydreaming, or the conversations with Hizashi, or the alcohol... but you’d lost track of time.  Now you could only watch and wait to see where he’d end up, hoping beyond hope that he’d disappear like he usually did.  Only rarely did he linger for a drink.  What were the odds, right?

Tonight was one of those rarities, and you held your breath, your posture going rigid, as he sat himself a mere two seats away from you.  He never once looked at you, instead, addressing Hizashi.

“Old Fashioned.” He requested, his voice deep.  It sent a shiver down your spine as the blood in your veins turned molten.  You knew instantly that that sound was now committed to memory.

“Do you even need to ask?” Hizashi replied with a grin as he slid the drink to him.

You disciplined your eyes to stare at your own drink as if it’d open up a portal for you to escape through. But as much as you struggled to control yourself, the simple gesture of Aizawa reaching for his drink made you break eye contact with your own. Your eyes caught how his fingers circled around his glass, long and surprisingly manicured.  You couldn’t help but watch as he brought the drink up to his lips to take a sip, and from there your gaze followed the curve of his mouth, the stubble that framed it, his jawline, his eyes…

Your eyes made contact with his briefly and you quickly looked back down at your drink, your heart pounding in your chest.

Shit.  He caught you staring.

You took a couple of deep swigs, forcing the alcohol down your tight throat, letting the burn of it act as a punishment for your violation. This. This was why you didn’t want to meet him.  No words had even been shared yet and you were already making a fool of yourself.

“Long night?” Hizashi asked him.  In the background, the next performer entered the stage and began to play, and you couldn’t help but strain your ears over the music to listen for Aizawa’s answer.

“I’ve had worse…” Aizawa replied.  “You?”

“Busy, but I’m in good company at least.” Hizashi replied.  Your heart pounded in your chest as your fingers tightened around your glass.  Your eyes darted up to lock with the bartender’s and you caught him smirking at you, his small, pointed mustache following the curve of his upper lip. 

He wouldn’t…

Suddenly another customer called for him from the other end of the bar.  “Duty calls, friend.  Be back in a sec.”

And just like that, you were left alone with him.  Aizawa. Your mind froze as it warred with itself between actually talking with him or grabbing your things and running away. Surely Hizashi would understand, right? And you could always pay back your tab later.   You took another deep gulp of alcohol in the hopes that it’d burn away some of your cowardice. 

Before you could so much as open your mouth, the unwelcome sensation of an unfamiliar hand on the curve of your back made your body go rigid, every muscle poised to fight.  A second later, the scent of hot breath laced in the stench of alcohol choked the air around you as an unfamiliar man slid into the open seat between you and the object of your affection.

“Hey there beautiful…” he slurred.  “You’ve been by yourself all night… you in need of some company?”

You covered your hand over your glass and shifted away from him slightly, your demeanor cold.  “No.”

“Aw, c’mon doll… don’t be like that…” he grinned.  “You don’t come here dressed like that for no good reason…”

The man’s hand was still on your back, its presence making your skin crawl.  It made the fog of your buzz lifting slightly, your senses suddenly heightened in the presence of a potential threat.  Your eyes searched frantically for Hizashi.  He had a way of handling drunken idiots.  But he was stuck at the other end of the bar still, a drunk woman trying desperately hard to flirt with him. 

You were on your own, and this creep clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your brain started to fabricate worst-case scenarios and planning for them, a million options running through your mind.  Screaming. Throwing your drink in his face.  A well-placed kick to his shin.  Your pepper spray.

Your free hand slipped into your purse, fingers closing around you’re the plastic cylinder.  The feel of it gave you a sense of security, even if it might be a last resort.  You didn’t really want to use it, especially with Aizawa sitting behind him… you never had to use it before, and you couldn’t guarantee your accuracy, especially in such a tight space.

You watched from the corner of your eye as the man’s free hand reached forward to grasp your own that covered your drink, and your grip around the cylinder tightened, a warning beginning to fall from your lips.  But your words were cut short as the man’s hand was suddenly grabbed by familiar, long fingers and bent back at an uncomfortable angle that made the drunk cry out.

“Hey! What the hell?!” the man demanded.

Aizawa took a casual sip of his drink with his free hand while maintaining his grip on the offender, before pinning him with a dangerous glare.  “She said no.”

The man’s hand left your back as he struggled to free himself from Aizawa’s grip. “Let go!”

“First you will apologize to her.” Aizawa ordered.

The man sputtered.  “For what?!”

You watched in shock as Aizawa’s eyes narrowed.  His thumb positioned itself on a digit and began pushing it slowly backward.

“For touching her without permission.  For insinuating that her attire makes it acceptable for you to ignore her boundaries. For being a disgusting pig.”

With each statement, he pushed the finger back farther and farther, until the man was buckling to his knees under the pressure in an attempt to alleviate the pain and prevent the digit from breaking.

“Ow ow ow! Okay!  I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” The man begged.

Aizawa held him for a moment longer before finally releasing him. “Good.  Now get out.”

The man scurried away until he was out of reach before turning around to glare daggers at him.  “Hey, fuck you man!”  He shouted.  But for all of his drunken bravado, he stormed out of the club clutching his sore hand to his chest, as heads turned to watch him leave.

The hum of voices within the club fell silent for a moment, with only the band continuing their music. After the front door closed, the noise of people chattering slowly returned, countless sets of eyes turning back to their tables.  Aizawa turned his gaze back to you, the lethal look gone from his dark eyes.

“You okay?”

You nodded mutely, swallowing the dryness in your throat as your sweaty hand released the pepper spray in your purse.  Sensations warred within you, momentarily leaving you a confused mess.  The speed at which he came to your defense and his willingness to resort to violence on your behalf fueled a carnal need you didn’t even realize you had.  But even as hot arousal pooled deep in your gut, your heart still raced from the threat that had been quickly neutralized.

His eyes caught the movement of something over your shoulder and he cursed. “Shit.”

“SHOuTA!” Scolded a feminine voice.

He turned back to his drink, hunching his shoulders. “I told her not to call me that in public.” Aizawa muttered under his breath.

You spun on your stool to see the owner of the bar, Nemuri Kayama approaching, clad in a deep purple business suit with a dangerously low-cut black blouse. She was next to you in a matter of seconds, a cloud of strong perfume enveloping you as she snatched Aizawa’s drink from his hand as he began to raise it to his lips.

“What the hell was that?!” She demanded.  “What makes you think you can attack my customers like that?”

“Your customer was harassing this customer.” Aizawa pointed out.

Nemuri looked at you with her lavender eyes as if seeing you for this first time and paused in her verbal assault.

“Is this true?” She asked you.

She had a presence about her that instantly made you find your voice again.

“He was being handsy and wasn’t taking no for an answer.” You confirmed.

“Can I have my drink back now?” Aizawa asked.

She stared back and forth between the two of you for a moment before slamming the glass down in front of him, half of the contents spilling over the side. “Ugh. Fine.  But next time ask for one of my bouncers.  Or Hizashi.  Or me. Anyone but you.”

Aizawa’s mouth curled with a sly grin as he wiped at the spill with a napkin.  “And why is that?”

“Because you scare away customers.” She growled.

Aizawa stared into his drink, swirling its remaining contents.  “Well maybe you need better customers.” He took a sip.

“I’ll take whoever is willing to pay.  Unfortunately for you, this club doesn’t survive off of chivalry.”  She crossed her arms.  “Besides… it’s less about losing that drunken idiot and more about losing those who saw you almost break his hand.”

“I wasn’t going to break his hand.  I was going to break his finger.” Aizawa said.

You stifled a chuckle with a bite of your lip.

Nemuri rubbed the bridge of her nose in frustration.  “Don’t try to make it sound like that makes it any better.  And you!” She pointed at Hizashi, who had conveniently shown up not a minute before.  “You know better than to leave him alone like this!”

“I can either be a bartender or a babysitter, love.  I can’t do both.” Hizashi replied as he polished a glass.

 Nemuri grumbled under her breath before turning her gaze back to you. “I apologize for Aizawa’s violent behavior.” “Oh I didn’t mind…” you confessed with a small smile, and you could feel Aizawa’s eyes flicker to you briefly.

 “And I apologize for the inappropriate customer. Alcohol is no excuse for harassment.  I guarantee he won’t be returning to this club any time soon.” She looked at Hizashi.  “Get her a fresh drink.”  

 “Already on it…” He replied, sliding a new glass to you and removing your old one.

 She looked back at you. “And your drinks are on the house tonight.”

 “Thank you.” You replied.

 Nemuri gave a satisfied nod. “Now I need to go schmooze the rest of our frightened patrons, which is exactly how I didn’t want to spend my evening.” With a final glare at the two men, she stormed off, her pointed heels clicking on the hard floor.

 You stared at your new drink for a moment, the desire for it lost now.  “Hizashi, can I have a glass of water?”

 “Sure thing, darlin’.” Hizashi replied and placed a chilled glass in front of you.

You thanked him and took a sip followed by a long, deep breath.  Aizawa moved into the now-vacant seat next to you, and you welcomed the closeness. The gesture felt protective, a warning to anyone else who was dumb enough to try their luck with you after that display.  Noticing the closer proximity between the two of you, Hizashi quickly made himself scarce again.

“Thank you…” you said to Aizawa as your finger traced patterns into the condensation on the glass.

“It was nothing…” he replied.  There was a long silence before he spoke again.  “I hope I didn’t scare you.”

You looked at him with surprise then.  Scared? No. Aroused? Definitely.  The dampness of your panties were evidence enough of that, but he certainly didn’t need to know that.

“Not at all.” You confessed. “I actually really appreciate it.”

Aizawa’s shoulders relaxed slightly, as if a weight had been lifted.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” you asked.  “You were so fast…”

Aizawa gave a small grin. “Piano isn’t the only thing I’m good at…”

You had no difficulty believing that…

“Were you a bouncer or something at one point?” you asked curiously.

Aizawa chuckled. “Yeah, something like that…” he took a swig of his drink, the ice in it clinking.  The amber colored liquid was nearly gone now.

His response only gave you more questions, but you forced them down. There was a fine line between being curious and nosey, and you were too worried of crossing it, thus ending your conversation with him.

“You’re a regular here.” He commented.  

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. He recognized you. You averted your eyes away in embarrassment, feeling suddenly exposed, your anonymity blown.  How long had he noticed you’d been coming here?  Did he know how closely you watched him?

“Yeah.” You confessed, as you took another sip of water. The alcohol next to it was calling to you, promising to ease your anxiety, but you refrained for the moment.  You wanted to keep your wits about you while you talked to him.

“No company tonight?” he asked.

Oh.  He watched you more closely than you ever realized. You weren’t sure whether you were feeling embarrassed or aroused.  Was it possible to feel both?

“Not this time.  I got stood up.” You replied.

“Sounds like you dodged a bullet there.” He said, looking into his empty glass.

You gave a dry laugh. “True.  I’ve dodged lots of bullets lately.”

Aizawa chuckled. “I believe it…”

Contrary to his outward aloof demeanor, he was nice.  You could feel the tension in your body start to dissipate as words came easier.

“If you ever think you want to try a dating app, don’t.” you commented. “It makes for good stories, but sometimes it really makes you want to give up on humanity.”

That earned an honest laugh as he looked at you with a grin.  “Well now you’ve piqued my curiosity.”

You couldn’t help but smile back.  This actually wasn’t so bad…

With amusement, you began to recount some of your more outlandish dating disasters with him, letting him in on the world of online dating from a woman’s perspective.  Aizawa listened with quiet interest, making the occasional wry joke or, for the more serious cases, wearing a deep frown of disapproval.  He was a good listener, and the conversation flowed easier than you had expected, words falling from your mouth without a second thought.  It felt natural.  Comfortable. And for the first time in a while, you felt like yourself.  After you ran out of stories, Aizawa offered a couple of his own, and you found yourself laughing at his own tales of dating woes. As Aizawa talked, Hizashi stopped by to quietly replace his empty drink before disappearing again, a pleased smile on his face.  His brief presence reminded you of your own glass pooling condensation on the paper coaster beneath it, and you returned to sipping its contents, once again finding the buzz you had been enjoying as you listened to Aizawa.

The time passed by as the two of you talked about the stress of dating and relationships. You’d learned that Aizawa rarely dated, but would occasionally have to endure awkward matchups thanks to Hizashi and Nemuri.  You learned how much of a private person he was, how he generally avoided dating culture entirely in favor of letting life play out on its own.  Everything about him exuded a man of experience and maturity, a man comfortable in his own skin and content with his life.  You couldn’t help but admire him as you soaked in every little detail that you’d wanted to know, committing every little bit of information he offered up to memory.  He was everything you’d imagined; kind, respectful, and serious with a sly sense of humor that he only shared once he was feeling comfortable.

Once the topic was exhausted, you sighed.  “I think I’m done with dating.” You confessed.  “I’ll just resign myself to my singlehood.”

Aizawa pinned you with a pensive look.  “Is that what you want?”

Something about the tone of his voice made your pulse race with excitement.

“Well… It’s better than being repeatedly disappointed.” You gave him a side glance as you took sip of your drink.  “But if the right guy comes along, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Hm… the right guy…” Aizawa muttered as he returned his gaze to his glass.

Your statement was a bold one, filled with invitation.  You hadn’t exactly planned for it to come out that way, but it was too late to take those words back now.  You quickly tried to turn the topic back to him.  “How about you?  Any special someone for you?”

He chuckled. “No.  No special someone.  Not yet, at least.”

The words fell from his mouth like breadcrumbs leading to a secret as he eyed you over the rim of his glass. You felt lightheaded and warm, the tips of your fingers buzzing with numbness. Maybe it was the half-finished drink in your hand.  Or maybe it was the look in Aizawa’s eyes that made you feel drunk, the Earth spinning under your feet as you mentally struggled to find some sort of purchase to keep from falling.  

Was he…?

Hope held you captive and you suddenly became acutely aware of how close you were to him.  Your eyes traced the scruff on his jawline, the stitching of his shirt, the slope of his neck as his Adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A stray strand of hair had come loose from his half-ponytail and was hanging over his forehead, begging to be touched. Your fingers twitched.  If you reached out to tuck it back into place, would he let you?

You couldn’t muster the courage and averted your eyes. You were filled with alcohol and infatuation, you reasoned.  Your defenses were down, your judgment potentially impaired… what if you were reading into something that wasn’t there?  What if you were wrong?  

You watched Hizashi close out a tab for an older couple as you took a sip of your water.

Warmth pressed against your forearm and looked down to see Aizawa’s arm resting against yours. All of your attention honed in on the softness of his shirtsleeve and the warmth of his skin as his hand fiddled with a paper coaster, flipping it over and over with each tap on the counter.  The contact was intentional, calculated in its subtle intimacy.  It was a silent question… a tentative invitation, absent of assumptions or expectations.  Your doubt evaporated like mist and you understood.  

He was interested.  In you.

Your heart did a somersault in your chest as you sat there, stunned.  Time froze as everything that’d transpired throughout the evening flitted through your mind.  It was a perfect amalgamation of circumstances, leading to this single moment, giving you the one thing you wanted most.  You held your breath as you stood on the precipice, uncertain if your next step would make you fall or let you fly.  

You stared at the contact and carefully… slowly… brushed your pinky along the back of his hand. It traced the vein that stood out there, following it to the knuckle. His own hand let go of the coaster his was holding, his own pinky linking with yours in affirmation.

You couldn’t help the elated smile that spread across your face in that moment and when you looked up at him with a shy glance, he had a smile of his own, small and secretive as he stared at your linked fingers.  Slowly the rest of his fingers followed, twining themselves into yours until he held your hand, his thumb brushing sensually against your skin.  That single action alone was enough to reignite the fire in your loins, your blood racing through your veins from the epicenter of his touch.

Hizashi’s voice crashed through your private, titillating moment.  “We’re closing up, lovebirds…”

Your hand pulled away from Aizawa’s on instinct as you looked around the now empty club.  Only staff remained, finalizing the last bit of cleanup and arranging the furniture for the next day.  How had it gotten so late so fast?

“You want me to walk you to your car?” Hizashi asked, a knowing grin on his face.

In all that had happened that evening, you’d forgotten about that little arrangement.  But you weren’t ready to leave just yet…

Aizawa’s voice answered before yours could.  “Leave me the keys to the place.  I’ll walk her tonight and lock up when we leave.”

“Suit yourself.” Hizashi replied with a shrug.  He placed a set of keys on the counter.  “Don’t tell Nemuri, though.  She’ll kill me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, friend.” Aizawa replied.

With that, Hizashi gave a small salute, grabbed his coat, and left.  You watched, your heart pounding as the door closed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

You were alone with Aizawa. Completely and utterly alone.

Your turned back to face him and froze.  Aizawa still sat on his stool, but he faced you now with an elbow propped against the counter, and that simple distinction made his presence fill your space.  He stared at you, the look in his eyes unfettered now, deep and hungry. “You really do look beautiful tonight.” He complimented.

With the way the words fell from his mouth and curled warmly into your chest like a cat, you believed him. You felt beautiful.

“Thank you.” You said with a soft smile.  “You look handsome yourself, Aizawa.”

He took your hand again and slowly began to lean forward, closing the small distance between you.  “Call me Shouta.”

You swallowed. “Shouta.” You whispered, feeling the name on your lips.

His dark pupils dilated and you felt his other hand on your jawline, warm, long fingers wrapping towards the back of your neck to pull you into a kiss.

His lips were warm and soft as his stubble tickled your skin, and you leaned into it fervently, your hands finding their home on his chest. You could feel his toned muscles beneath the black cotton and a purr found its way to the back of your throat. Shouta took it as an invitation, coming off of his barstool to stand between your now parted legs, his arm wrapping itself around your waist as his tongue slid along your lips.  You opened your mouth eagerly to taste the bourbon there, to feel the wet muscle dance and slide against your own.  Every touch, every taste, every smell enveloped you further and further in the essence that was Shouta until your entire body was singing, teetering on the edge.

Oh God… you were not going to let yourself cum just by kissing him.

You pulled out of the kiss slightly as your hands pressed gently against his chest, and he retreated from you just enough for his eyes to search your face, a silent question in them.

“I-I’m sorry, I just…” your words fell pitifully from your flushed, wet mouth, your voice shaky with pent-up arousal.

One second longer. One second longer is all it would have taken…

Shouta’s hand on your back began to rub soft, slow circles. “Would you like some water?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

You nodded, and he kissed your forehead before handing you your glass.  You drank greedily before handing it back to him, half-empty.

“Have you ever been kissed like that?” he asked curiously, as he placed the glass back down onto the counter.

You gave a small laugh and shook your head.  “No… not like that.”

Your confession left you feeling embarrassed, even as your chest felt it would burst from this latest turn of events.

You kissed Aizawa Shouta.

Actually, he kissed you.

You needed a moment to collect yourself, to process everything you were feeling.

So, you completely changed the subject.

“How long have you been playing piano?” you asked.

Shouta didn’t miss a beat, returning to sit on his stool to give you the space you silently needed. But his hand still held yours, resting on the counter as his fingers twined with yours. It gave you a sense of reassurance, that everything was okay, despite your awkward hesitation.

“My grandpa had one when I was a kid.  Used to mess around on it.” He explained.  “He finally got me lessons from a guy he knew, and I’ve loved it ever since.”

You smiled as you watched his thumb trace across each of your fingernails.  You returned the gesture, tracing the details of his own hand. It was like living a dream, to see them up close and feel them, every fingernail, every vein, even the pads of his fingertips. The number of times you’d fantasized about these hands…

“I always wanted to learn how to play, but my family could never afford lessons.” You confessed. “But my mom used to have all of these old jazz albums, and I used to sit in my room and listen to them for hours.”

“I can teach you.”

Your fingers stopped their tracing.  “What?”

“I can teach you.” He repeated.

You shook your head.  “Um, no it’s okay… I’d probably be a terrible student anyway.”

“A student can only be as bad as the person teaching them.  Follow me.”

Before you could protest further, Shouta’s hand closed around yours and pulled you from your seat.  He led you up the steps of the stage and across it until you reached the black piano sitting forlornly in the empty space.

It felt strange being up on the stage, especially with the club being completely empty.  The stage light was bright and warm on your shoulders, and the silence sounded different there, affected by the difference in acoustics.

Shouta sat at one end of the black bench and pulled you down by your hand until you were sitting next to him.  The bench was small, meant for only one person, so you had to press yourself against him to be able to sit without feeling like you were going to fall off. Even then, it wasn’t the most comfortable arrangement, but you endured, if only to be close to him.

He released your hand and began his instruction.

“First thing you should know is how to find middle C.  Everything else will center around this.”  He pressed the white key with the thumb of his right hand, the note singing out into the empty space.  “Then, it’s D, E, F, G, A, B, which brings you back to C. That creates an octave, also known as a scale.” He played each note as he spoke.

“What about the black keys?” you asked curiously.

“Those are the half notes. Don’t worry about those right now.” He arranged his hand back how he initially had it, his thumb on the middle C key.

“Now,” he continued, “First, you must learn how to move your fingers along the keys.  Like this.”  Shouta demonstrated the motion again, his fingers playing each note slowly in a steady rhythm.  “The switch of the fingers is important. It will help you flow quickly and easily without having to watch where your hands are, which will be important for reading sheet music.”  He repeated the motion again, the sounds once again ringing out.  Then, he removed his hand.  “Your turn.”

You bit your lip and placed your hand how you’d seen his arranged and tried.  The notes were clumsy, lacking in rhythm and falling together as you forgot in your nervous haze where the switch of the fingers happened. Embarrassment flooded you and you withdrew your hand.

“Don’t expect to get it right on the first try.” He reassured.  “Let’s try it again.  Try to keep your fingers loose, curved like a bowl.”

Shouta modeled it again. You watched, but your focus was muddled with anxiety, attraction, and likely alcohol.  It was a poor recipe for learning, but you knew he was trying to make you feel comfortable, and you didn’t want to turn down his kindness.  You arranged your hand back on the keys again and tried again, with little improvement.

“I’m sorry, I��” you stuttered as you clutched your hand in your lap protectively.

His hand covered yours and you looked up at him to see him staring at you with warm patience.  “It’s okay.  If you don’t want to do this, we can stop.”

You stared at him, mouth slightly open as you thought about it.  You knew he wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to quit.  And sure, you felt silly being so poor at it when sitting next to someone who’s skills you idolized.

But did you really want to stop?  How often would you get an opportunity like this?

“No, it’s okay.  Keep going, I want to learn.” You replied.

Shouta watched you for a moment longer before he placed his hand back on the keys.  “Place your hand over mine.”

You followed his instructions, your hand looking small compared to his.  His skin was warm, and it calmed the shaking in your fingers.

“Watch where the fingers land.  Feel how they move.” He played the notes, and you could feel the tendons of his hand tense and shift, his fingers rising and falling like a wave.

“It’s like they’re dancing.” You said.  “You switch to your thumb on this key… E?”

“Yes.” Shouta replied in approval.  “Your turn.”

This time you focused, remembering the feel of how his hand had moved under yours as you played the keys, switching your fingers at the right time.  The improvement was noticeable.

He smiled.  “Good.  Now, for the other hand.  You’ll start one octave lower.  Can you find it?”

Your arm crossed Aizawa’s chest to press the white key, letting the sound ring out.

“Perfect.  Only this time, your pinky will sit on this key, with the others following after.”

You placed your fingers across the white keys.  “Like this?”

Shouta nodded.  “Now you’ll try the same progression with your left hand.  The middle finger will follow after the thumb plays the G note.”

You removed your hand so he could place his own and demonstrate it for you.  You followed after him, imitating his actions, but this time your attempt was worse than your first, your hand angled awkwardly due to limited space as you pressed yourself against him.

“That was terrible.” You laughed. “I can’t reach very easily.”

A small mischievous smile formed on Shouta’s lips and he slipped his hand around your waist.

“Come here.” He said.

You didn’t fight him as he pulled you into his lap.  His right hand settled itself against your stomach as his legs parted slightly to make room for yours, your knees drawn together between his.  The heat of his touch seeped through the fabric of your dress, weaving a tight knot of desire deep in your core that made your body go rigid as you tried to keep yourself from melting against him.

“Is this okay?” He asked, leaning slightly to see your face from his position behind you.

You licked your lips and swallowed, giving a nod.  “Y-Yes…” you answered shakily.  “Are you okay…? I’m not too heavy?”

Shouta gave a soft laugh. “No.  Not at all.” His breath was hot against your skin and you could feel the scratch of his stubble as he spoke, sending goosebumps over your body. “Let’s continue.”

He placed his left hand on the keys again with ease, regardless of how poor his view of the piano was with you in front of him.  He knew this instrument like the back of his hand; could probably play it with his eyes closed and never miss a note.

He played the simple notes again, C through B, fingers tip-toeing across the keys as he said their names out loud, helping you to remember them.  You watched carefully for where the shift in finger arrangement happened, the middle finger following after the thumb just as he’d described.

“You try.” He instructed, his right arm still wrapped around your waist, holding you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his chest against your back now, feel the strength of his body beneath you.

You loved this.  The lap-sitting, the lesson, the praise. Each time Shouta praised your improvements it sent a thrill through you from your head down to your toes.  To be complimented by him, even for something as simple as pressing a few keys… it only made you want to please him more.

You played the progression of notes with renewed motivation, once again showing improvement from your first attempt.

“Good.”

Your spine straightened against him slightly.  The thumb of his hand caressed your abdomen where he held you.

“Now you need to learn to do the same but in reverse, until you’re back where your fingers started.”

You moved your hand away to let him demonstrate and his right hand left your stomach, leaving an ache in its wake.  You watched both of his hands play the simple notes up and down, working together with ease. But you knew it was all a ruse… he made it look easy, but if you tried to do the same, you’d fumble clumsily.

“I don’t know about this…” you chuckled.

“It takes practice,” he replied, “until it becomes muscle memory.”

Shouta demonstrated it again, up and down.  And again.

You placed your hands over his, wanting to feel the touch of his hands under yours more than the actual pressing of the keys.  All you wanted was his arm around your waist again, his hand on your lower abdomen.  His touch was tantalizing, and you wanted more of it.  

He completed the simple scale progression two more times with your hands on top of his.

“Do you want to try?” he offered.

His hands left the keys to hold you again, his arms wrapped more tightly around you this time. You leaned against him, reveling in being held in his arms.

“I’m going to mess up.” You warned.

“Just take it slow.”

You shook your head a little and let out a small breath, shifting your position in his lap slightly as you leaned forward to focus on the keys.  His arms loosened around you, his hands shifting to your thighs.

It was likely an innocent action, intended to give you the freedom to move as you made yourself comfortable.  But as soon as the tips of his fingers touched the bare skin below the hem of your dress, that sharp zap of arousal tingled the ends of your nerves, causing you to suck in air and part your knees slightly, your walls throbbing in hopeful anticipation.

It wasn’t intentional. Your body just… reacted.  But Shouta noticed instantly.

There was silence at first, his hands still on your thighs, waiting.  Finally, he spoke.  “Y/N….” his voice was huskier now.  “How long has it been since you’ve been cared for?”

Embarrassment flooded through you.  Embarrassment at your sensitivity to his touch, embarrassment at the answer to his question... You hesitated a moment before words fell clumsily from your mouth. “I, um… a long time.”

A low hum rumbled from Shouta’s chest as his fingers brushing gently along the inside of your thighs until they dipped just beneath the black fabric. The action was experimental, a testing of the waters, and it brought immediate results.  Your thighs widened the slightest bit more as you failed to fight back a whimper, your hands grasping his arms in need.  Not a moment later you could feel the growing firmness of his cock begin to press against your backside, despite the restriction of Shouta’s jeans. Shouta’s hands halted again their movement, waiting. He was miraculously under control despite his obvious arousal, and you envied him.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he asked, his voice low.

Of course you did.  It was obvious you did.  Why else would your legs be parting like the red sea as if he were Moses?

But for some reason, your body language wasn’t enough for him.  He needed to hear it.  A sense of urgency filled you, desperate need driving you.  At this point, you’d give him whatever he wanted…

“Yes.” you begged. “Please, Shouta... Please touch me.” You leaned back against him, allowing the angle of your hips to tilt as your hands guided him further beneath the skirt of your dress.

With you draped onto him, your head tilted back, Shouta kissed the curve of your neck as his hands gently gripped the insides of your knees, pulling your legs apart until they were draped over his own.  You were open for him now, your skirt hiked halfway up by the spread of your legs.  

Your heart pounded in your chest with so much excitement that you could feel your own pulse in your neck and between your legs.  This was happening… This was really happening… How many times had you fantasized about this very thing?  How many times had you longed for this man, whispered his name on your tongue only to be met by the empty silence?  And now here he was, freeing you from the shackles of your loneliness in the best way possible.

Shouta’s hands pushed the fabric up the rest of the way until it was pooled around your hips, exposing your panties.  The thin cotton fabric did little to protect your aching cunt from the cold air, and you sucked air through your teeth at the sensation.  His fingers traced invisible lines up the inside of your thighs, leaving nothing but singing nerves in their wake that cascaded into a shiver that rolled over your flesh, leaving goosebumps.  Your body was already moving of its own volition, hips rolling, eager for Shouta’s fingers yet simultaneously attempting to grind down onto his restrained cock.  Your breaths were already coming in hot and ragged, every inch of you frantic for the release that it had been denied all evening.

Shouta gave a low growl, his left hand holding down your hip, halting your movements.  “You better stop that…” he warned.  

No doubt your girating was making things difficult for him on his end.  But you didn’t care.  You were an unfettered, horny mess now.

A whine escaped your lips at his restriction.  In response, Shouta’s left hand trailed up the length of your body, caressing over your breast before finding its home on your neck.  His palm was against your voice box now, his fingers long enough to wrap around your throat and reach your jaw.  There was no force in his hold, but it still held power over you, ushering your body into stillness while your chest heaved with heavy breaths.

“Patience.” He whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

Shouta followed up his words with more gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulder… wherever his lips could reach with you on his lap.  The feel of his hand on your throat was a reminder of who was in control.  But it was also a promise - a promise to ensure your needs would be met.

Once Shouta was sure he had your compliance, his right hand travelled the remaining distance of your inner thigh to arrive at your panties, where moist heat greeted him.

A low hum of approval rumbled in his chest, vibrating against your back.  “You’re so wet.”

A pitiful “yes” was all you could muster before the tips of his fingers brushed gently against your clothed sex, stealing your voice and replacing it with a gasp.

Slowly Shouta pet you, his fingers stroking gentle circles over the wet cotton, teasing the sensitive flesh beneath.  With his hand still on your neck, you kept your body torturously motionless as he gradually increased the pressure of his digits, reducing his speed as he passed over your clit to drag the pads of his fingers over the bundle of nerves.

You swallowed the pooling saliva in your mouth, the action causing your throat to press against his hand. “Please…” you begged. “I can’t…”

Shouta was strict, but not cruel.  He obliged, slipping his fingers beneath the cotton to swim his digits into your juices, never breaking his circular, rhythmic motion over your slick entrance.  The scent of your arousal surrounded both of you, thick and heavy.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he growled against your skin.

Two of his fingers dipped into you then, slow at first, allowing you to stretch around him as your walls quivered.  Your thighs tensed at the intrusion, welcoming the stinging pressure as your core burned with fire. He withdrew his fingers slowly and you lifted your head to watch in carnal fascination to see his fingers shining wet down to the knuckles. He pushed them into you again, curling his fingers towards the sensitive, spongey tissue along the top of your walls, his thumb pressing down on your wet clit.  A zap of stimulation fired from your core before fizzling away, a teasing warning of what was to come.

“Oh-Oh fuck…” you gasped as one hand reached back and grabbed a fistful of Shouta’s thick, dark hair.

He picked up his pace then, his thumb driving firm circles around your swollen pearl as the sounds of your wet hole being finger-fucked filled the silence of the empty stage.  With each pass of his thumb, with each curl of his fingers, the heat grew hotter, your cunt swollen and burning with the need for release.  Your thighs were tensed so tightly now that it made your legs lift and you had to brace your feet against the piano, discordant notes ringing out to join the sounds of your heavy pants and wet squelching in a lewd song. Shouta’s hand left your throat to hold you under your thigh to keep you steady as his other hand worked fast and hard to unravel you.  With the absence of his touch on your neck, you were free to move your hips, grinding hard into his hand, his lap, whatever part of him you were touching.  Your grip on his hair tightened, mirroring the tension building within you, clinging to him like the boughs of a tree knowing that any second the flood would come.

Shouta was your lifeline, your rock, your destroyer.  You were the waves and he was the shore, and your body tensed to prepare itself to crash against him.

“Come on, baby…” Shouta whispered gruffly.  “I’ve got you. Cum for me.”

You came with a cry, loud and frantic as your walls clamped down on his fingers.  The ball of heat that you had been carrying like a stone exploded within you, incinerating every nerve from the inside out, leaving nothing but sweet, sharp, euphoria in its wake.  Your walls spasmed repeatedly, sucking greedily on Shouta’s drenched fingers, as you cried and moaned, bucked and arched.  Shouta’s arm was around your waist, holding you against him to keep you from sliding off of his lap as you rode the high of your orgasm, tumbling like a waterfall over and over again to finally become a puddle in his strong arms.  

Shouta held you silently against him as your body twitched with aftershocks of pleasure.  Once your spasms subsided and he was sure you wouldn’t fall from your perch, Shouta released his hold around your waist to draw his fingers up and down your arm, creating goosebumps under his gentle touch.  His fingers were still in you, his hand cupped between your legs.  The warmth of his touch on your tired cunt was comforting, and it brought forth a content moan from your parted lips.  Shouta smiled as he planted another kiss on your shoulder.

You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that with him.  But you finally made yourself sit up when you felt sleep starting to drag you down into its murky depths, your limbs feeling heavy.

Finally, Shouta spoke. “Better?” he asked.

You gave a laugh.  “Much.”  You looked down at yourself in amusement. “You made a mess of me, though…”

Shouta gave a satisfied hum and stared at his hand that held you.  “I like you messy.” He stated.

“So, you’re just gonna leave me like this?” you teased.

He laughed and withdrew his fingers, wiping the slick coating them onto his jeans.  “As much as I like that idea, no.”  He adjusted your ruined underwear and the hem of your dress back into place before turning you around in his lap.  His hands were planted on your rear, keeping you securely and comfortably in place.  “It’s late. We should get you home.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him.  “What about you?” you asked, your eyes glancing down to his lap. Your hands began to trail down his chest to reach the button of his pants, eager to reciprocate.

Shouta smiled at you and grabbed your hands, bringing them back up to plant kisses on your palms.  “Tonight was about you. There’ll be more opportunities for both of us later.”  You pouted and he chuckled. “Don’t give me that face.”

“It hardly seems fair…” you muttered.  You were looking forward to enjoying more of him… you didn’t want tonight to end.

He hummed as he began to trail kisses along your jawline and you arched your neck to allow him better access.  “We both… need sleep.”

Sleep? With his mouth on your skin, sleep was the last thing on your mind.  Shouta pulled his lips away to look into your eyes again and you could see the fatigue there, dark circles framing bloodshot eyes.  He really did look incredibly tired, and you couldn’t help but wonder how late it really was.  You brushed the errant strand of hair off of his forehead, tucking it behind his ear.

“Okay...” you softly agreed.

“You should come back tomorrow night.” He mused, the mischief back in his eyes. “We can continue our piano lessons.”

“I’d like that.” you smiled.

 You couldn’t wait.

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝚁𝙴𝙴

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬:  Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦:  psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

My previous account was deleted so I’ll be posting the stories again. I’ll be changing this one, so yeah.

Inform me if y’all wanna be tagged!

As the Winter Soldier entered the house, his instincts kicked in. The house was too quiet for his liking. He kept the bags on the sofa and started climbing up the stairs towards your bedroom. Oh, how much he loved you. You had never left his side, not when he lost his arm, not when the guilt became too much to live with and he cried his eyes out near you while you said sweet nothings into his ears. He wanted to keep you by side always, he wasn’t ever letting you go. Soon he was going to ask you to leave your job and stay at home looking after him and Iris.  

He couldn’t stand to see the tired look in your eyes, how you managed everything, your job, your kid, the house and most importantly him. In the beginning he was afraid you wouldn’t love him, that you would only love Bucky, but you loved him just as much; though you were unaware that he existed in Bucky. Bucky was an idiot to let you roam free and be away from him, especially when the world is filled with cruel people. He was a fool to let you be friends with Thor or any man in general. You were only his and Bucky’s. He was Bucky only, but he was much stronger and capable than Bucky. He was the one who would protect you, not Bucky. The Soldat loved you much more than Bucky ever could.  

As he opened the door, he noticed you were in the bathroom. As he entered inside, for a second even he was shocked. You were sitting with your legs folded and staring wide eyed at his computer. He noticed you were watching his files and videos and you were so dumbstruck that you didn’t even notice him standing at the door.  

But seeing you watch him do the deed sent a weird wave of pride through him. He wasn’t ever going to tell you any of this, after all it was highly confidential and your life could have been jeopardized. But seeing you now, watching his skilled work with awe, made his chest swell with pride. He deserved to get his work appreciated by his wife; after all, he had put sweat and blood in it, and you weren't even aware, but not anymore. What he failed to notice was that it wasn’t awe on your face, it was unadulterated fear.  

He could clearly see as your eyes filled with tears and you pressed a hand on your face. He knew you were scared, but he would tell you not to be. For you, there was nothing to be afraid of him. As you started to puke, he went and held your hair in one hand while with the other he quietly shushed you. The last thing he wanted was to see you suffer. He wanted to protect you, keep you safe from the world, not hurt you.  

After you emptied your stomach, you slouched besides the toilet and huffed loudly. The tears from your eyes weren't stopping. “Peeking in other people’s stuff ain’t a good habit, doll.” he said calmly as he folded his hands while leaning against the door frame.  

Your eyes widened when you realized that it was Bucky shushing you all this while. But why would he do that, now that you had found his secret. Maybe he was being merciful before killing you. Wait, he was going to kill you!!! You had seen top secret information and there was no going back. You averted your gaze from him as you stared at the laptop. Another video of Bucky’s murders running on it.  

You couldn't exactly make out what the video was as your eyes were filled with unshed tears. “He had a big ass fence and four huge dogs guarding the house. But well, all dogs can be lured by treats.” he said shrugging as if he was talking about your neighbors' dogs and not of the person he had killed. And you realized he regretted nothing; he was talking about murdering people with pride rather than guilt.  

“Make it quick.” your voice was barely audible as pathetic sobs escaped your eyes. The Winter Soldier titled his head in confusion, “And what made you think that I’m going to kill you?” you looked up at him with even more fear. “I wasn’t supposed to see all this. And I’ve seen enough movies and read enough books to know what happens when you see stuff you aren't supposed to.” you shivered violently at the thought.  

The Soldier chuckled dryly “You are right, if they know that you’ve seen all this, then they wouldn’t bat an eyelid in executing you. But... who is going to tell them? Not me for sure. I just need one promise, you aren't ever going to tell this to anyone, no matter what, no matter whose life is at stake. You are going to pretend you never saw any of this. Delete all this from your brain right now!” he ordered.

His commanding voice sent shivers down your spine, “I promise, I promise not to tell anyone....... I'm sorry, please.” you had no idea for what you were apologizing or pleading for. “It's okay.” he said with a faint smile as he picked you up gently and you wondered whether it was the same man capable of killing people in the blink of an eye. As you quietly sat on the bed, you dared not look at him; he on the other hand was lovingly staring at you.

You wanted to tell him to give up this job and start anew, but you knew this wasn't the right timing. “Don't worry, I’ll keep you safe. You don’t have to do anything. Just sign your resignation and I'll turn it in. You'll be safe in this house. You don't even have to ever leave it. The hospital doesn’t even pay you enough for your handwork.”

You looked at Bucky with shock and betrayal, you absolutely adored your work. You wouldn’t ever give up being a surgeon and saving lives. You had spent years trying to reach where you were today, and you loved doing what you did. How could Bucky ever say something like that. He was always so supportive but well, he wasn’t the same Bucky he once was.

“You wouldn’t ever meet any other man. Doll, you don't know how this world is, there are lunatics, murderers and all kinds of bad people. But I’ve vowed to keep you safe and I will. Just don’t, just don’t stop loving me.”  

“You are joking right? You don’t mean that... do you?” You asked unsure of his words. “Why would I joke about this?” Your heart beat so loudly that you knew he heard it. To keep you inside your house like a prisoner, had he lost his mind? You enjoyed your freedom more than anything. And at that exact moment you realized that Bucky had utterly and completely lost his sanity.

“You can’t do that! I love my job and I’m not resigning anytime soon. I have friends for Christ’s sake. I have a goddamn life James! What the hell do you mean I won’t see any other men?” You lost your cool. Enough was enough. He couldn’t control your life; you wouldn’t let him.

You took a deep breath; you didn’t want him to misinterpret your next words and ignore you. “James, I believe it should be the other way around. I think it’s time you drop being a hit man. It’s not safe...” at your words he tilted his head and squinted his eyes. But still you continued, “It’s clearly dangerous. The things you’re doing, they could jeopardize all our lives, you, me, Iris. And the way you kill...” you cleared your throat and shook your head.

“It’s not safe for your mental health too. Look Buck, you think I don’t know, but I know you secretly cry at night. You feel guilty, so just stop now. We’ll work it through before it’s too late.” You said while rubbing his arm.

“Think about Rissie, she misses her dad so much when you are gone. Maybe take a job where you won’t have to leave and you can be with her so much more. Also... the lives that you’ve... umm.... they are taking a toll on you. You are not present with us anymore Buck, you stare off and don’t give a shit as to what we say. And it’s not just me that notices. You get irritated so quickly, it’s difficult Bucky. But it can all change if you want, Buck.”

Soldat’s talented ears ignored every word you said and only paid attention to the fact that you care about him so much. He doubted that you would get hysterical knowing what he did, but instead you were worried for him. You were ready to forgive him. He was the luckiest bastard.  

You saw his love-struck expression and you knew he wants listening to you. “Bucky...!!??? Listen to what I’m saying! Leave that goddamn job!” You lost your cool and yelled at him.

“Do you know why I took that job? They gave me a chance! They gave me my arm back. I would’ve hated being a burden to you and now look, I’m capable to taking care of you. You don’t understand, I can’t leave that job. They gave birth to me.” Your heart ached at his words.

“Bucky, nothing matters if I’m gonna lose you...!!! You are all that matters. And working for Hydra hasn’t fixed you; it had broken you even more. I miss my Bucky. Please, ple....”

At your words, the Winter Soldier snapped his head towards you, “What did you say? Huh, you miss who?” You narrowed your eyes and you couldn’t quite get the meaning of his words. “What? I said I missed Buck, you were so sweet not controlling, I just...” you stopped talking seeing the deadly expression on his face.

“That idiot Bucky is not going to save you! It’s me! I’m the one who will keep you safe. I love you so much more than Bucky ever has. Don’t you understand. Bucky is weak and he is not coming back.” You winced at his cruel words.

“James, you are the Soldat right now? You.... you need help.” You stuttered. At your words Soldat lost his cool, couldn’t you understand and accept his love for you. He raised his flesh arm and slapped you across the face. What was in Bucky that wasn’t in him. He was right, you only loved him as you thought it was Bucky; you didn’t love the Soldat. But he was Bucky, too right?

“Bucky!!!” You held your stinging cheek. You might have tolerated his words but how dare he hit you? You weren’t the one going to sit back and take his shit. In the heat of the moment, you slapped him back. “How dare you?” you screamed at him. He just closed his eyes and took a deep breath; he knew he had messed up big time. The Soldat was scared of one thing: your anger and resentment in him. He hated when he upset you.

“James enough is enough. I’ve had too much of your shit! All I try to do is support you and care for you. I literally handle this house, a job, I look after Rissie, and I take care of you like you are a child. Not once have I ever complaint.

James, I love you so much, but it’s so taxing! Love is not supposed hurt; it’s not supposed to be one sided. I try everything I can to help you. But you? You just don’t care! All you do is come up with stupider excuses. Keeping me home? Making me leave my job? What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shook your head and pinched your nose.

“Look James, I can’t do this anymore. I think we should take a break. We both need to breathe. We need to take a look at things from a different perspective....” before you could continue, he snapped.

On moment you were trying to talk some sense into him and the next you were pinned to the wall with his metal arm squeezing the life out of you. Your eyes widened and you desperately tried to breathe, but he had blocked your windpipe. “Jame...” you couldn’t even continue your sentence.

The Soldat was furious. How could you? How could you suggest that he leave you? You didn’t need a break, you needed him. Only him. And he was going to prove it to you. He wouldn’t let you leave. You started banging your hands on his arm but it was of no use. His eyes were dead, like in the videos. And that scared you more.

Finally, your arms gave out and you were on the verge of passing out. Yet that didn’t stop him, he was a madman with a point to prove. But then a small blood vessel burst open in your left cheek. And when Bucky noticed that, he came back to his senses.

He quickly left his grip and ran back, bumping into the bed. You sagged back down the wall, wheezing. For minutes or for hours you couldn’t tell, you both didn’t dare move. You were shivering and sobbing. And he was contemplating everything, how could he?

He wasn’t the Winter Soldier right now, he was Bucky. Why did the Soldat had to ruin everything? He was fine till it was limited to killing, but ruining his marriage. What could he ever possibly do to make up to you?

Bucky was the first one to speak up, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I... that wasn’t me; or maybe that was. I don’t know. I’m so confused. You were right, I shouldn’t have joined Hydra. I... I don’t know what to say, what to do.... ,,.... please say something, don’t stay quiet. Please.!” He pleaded with tears in his eyes.

“Tell me, tell me what shall I say so that you wouldn’t snap.” Your voice was hoarse and it was hurting to even say one sentence. “You are right, we should give each other space.” His heart broke to million pieces, but he knew it was right. The Soldat could come back any moment and he was too unstable to stay with you and Rissie.

“I’ll... uhmm.. I’ll leave. I can come here for an hour everyday till...” he suggested. “Please, please don’t. You are too scary. Think about Iris. Just go to Rachel, you’ve denied it for too long and look at us. If she says you are stable enough, come back anytime. But... not before.” Rachel was your friend and an excellent psychiatrist. “Oh, okay. Forgive me please. I’m sorry...”

“Leave please!” You quietly observed as he picked up his duffel bag, which was packed all the time for emergency, and left the room. You got up and followed him, all while thinking of the beautiful moments you shared with Bucky. “Goodbye.” He said and you nodded as he left the house in his car.

“Umm, are you okay? I was worried, I don’t mean to pry. I just heard some commotion.” Sam said as he entered your front yard. Sam was neighbor and a dear friend. He had moved in soon after you had. But you had known each other much before that. He used to frequently visit your hospital with one reason or another. You guessed he had a thing for one of the nurses but he never agreed. He was a light hearted person and you enjoyed his company.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I appreciate your concern.” you tried your best to smile. His eyes quickly went to the bruises on your neck. “You don’t have to be formal, tell me. We are friends. Are you fine? Do you need something.” You couldn’t stop your tears at his concern.

“I’m not fine, but I don’t want to talk about it right now.” You said wiping the tears off. “If you need me, anytime, I’m just one call away.” He gave you a warm smile. “Thanks Sam. I’m so glad you are my friend.”

“You are hell bent on giving me diabetes with your sweet words, lady. Take care of yourself. I’ll be right next door.” He said as he saw you walk into the house.

He quickly exited your house and removed his phone from his pajama. He had to make a call.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

You were in your own thoughts. Bucky hadn’t once called you or showed up in the past six days. You had expected him to come back the next day or at least call.

As you walked back home from the hospital, you didn’t notice the huge Greek god of a man walk straight into you. “I’m sorry.” You said out of instinct without looking up.

You stopped right in your tracts when you heard a familiar yet much affirmative voice calling your name. You turned around and stared right into his eyes. He had changed, become much much bigger and stronger than before. But his eyes, they were the same.

“Steve?!” you asked with sudden excitement. He gave you a radiant smile which instantly improved your day.

Lost in the joy of meeting your long-lost friend, you were both unaware of the pair of eyes keenly observing your every move.

[chasingpj]

𝐂𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐝-𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?”

pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader

words: 5,236

warnings: none? pls let me know if i missed anything

timeline: post sea of monsters

if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here

a/n: hi hi! i hope you guys like this chapter. i fell in a little bit of a rut about my writing so I've been holding off on posting but I think I'm pretty satisfied with how this came out. i'm so fried after editing this so if i happened to miss any typos, sorry, i tried haha.

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

The heat and dimness from the cabin surround you like a warm hug making it challenging to stay awake. Your eyelids droop against your wishes to study, fatigue messing with your vision as it blurs the letters on the page you were trying to read. As you find yourself mindlessly reading words, you decide to give in, and soon you’re settled in an in-between state of consciousness.

Suddenly, you’re standing at the entryway of the kitchen in your home, the first thing you notice is the scent of your favorite meal as it fills your nostrils, and you smile sleepily as your father looks at you. He’s hovering over the stove, right hand stirring something in a saucepan, and he smiles widely at you.

“Stella, you’re home!” He announces as he pushes his round glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Go, sit! Dinner is almost ready.”

You smile at the nickname your father has called you since you were a child. He said that the first time you cried in his arms, your little body illuminated like a supernova, and since then, he’s called you Stella, the Latin word for star. You make your way past the kitchen island on your left, noticing the history channel playing on the small TV in the corner of the counter like always. A sense of nostalgia hits you in your core, and you sigh, feeling safe. As much as you loved the camp, homesickness was unavoidable.

You settle yourself at the black round table in the back of the kitchen, chin resting on your palm as you look outside of the window beside you. The small garden of herbs and flowers you have in the backyard is as you remember. Every summer, your father cultivates herbs and flowers in dedication to your mother. He uses most of the herbs for spells, and at the end of the summer, he would make a bouquet out of the brightest flowers in the garden and rest them on your mother’s alter.

The reminder of your mother made your stomach feel heavy, and you quickly push the thoughts of her away. You weren’t in the mood to deal with them, especially not in a dream like this. The thumping of Atticus’s footsteps coming down the stairs catches your attention, and soon your brother appears in the doorway with his usual wide smile.

“Hey! I thought you were making my favorite tonight.” His shoulders slump, and he playfully narrows his eyes at you. You shrug,

“What can I say? Must suck not being the favorite,” you joke, and Atticus gasps dramatically. The sound of your father’s laughter fills the room as he tilts his head back.

“I love you guys equally! That’s not nice to say,” he says as he points the spatula at you as he squints. You snort as Atticus joins you at the table,

“Yeah, Y/n, that’s not nice,” he repeats, poking his tongue out at you, and you return the action. You and your brother have a short competition of who can stick out their tongue harder as your father puts the food on the table. At the sight of your favorite meal, you let Atticus win, turning to put a portion on your plate.

Amidst your dinner conversation with your father and your brother, the deep growl rumbling in Ambrose’s chest makes its way into your dream. A soft hum leaves your lips, your neck relaxing against your will, and your head jolts forward as your cheek slips off your palm. You blink a few times, groaning since you’ve lost your dream.

“Ambrose, shush.” Your chin returns onto your hand, and you submit to your fatigue once again. The image of a ravenous bunny, cartoonishly stomping its way through a candy cane forest, filled your mind, projected on your eyelids like a movie in a theater. It’s too ridiculous to give much thought, and you were too busy relishing in the soothing feeling of sleep.

All of a sudden, Ambrose bursts into a series of short high pitched barks, jolting you awake. Your eyelids fly open, and you turn in your chair. Ambrose stands up tall, his fur contouring to his muscles as they flex. His ears are perched up; his focus fixed on the back wall. Whatever he was looking at, he didn’t dare to approach.

"What? What is it?"

The bunk beds obstructed your view, but you are sure you are alone. Everyone was out and about doing their normal camp activities; if anyone had entered the cabin, you would have heard them.

You groan in your hands as they rub your face to shake off the remaining fatigue, growing annoyed at Ambrose’s persistent barking that nips harshly at your eardrums.

“Ambros-”

A bitter breeze fills the room, and your breath gets caught in your throat at the feeling. Your arms wrap around your frame, failing to prevent goosebumps from forming on your arms. It was impossible. Today’s weather report called for a hot, humid day like it’s been all summer. As the hair at the back of your neck stands straight, and you have an idea of what’s happening, but you hoped you were wrong.

Ambrose abruptly ends his barking with a distressing whine. His ears sag low on the sides of his head as he retreats, his large body shrinking in fear. With cautious steps, you approach him in the middle of the cabin. The thumping of your pulse is loud in your ears, and for the first time in a while, a familiar pang strikes you in your gut. You’re being watched.

Despite his fear, Ambrose guards you finding the courage to stand tall and confident after cowering a few seconds ago. You let out a shaky breath, and warily, you finally catch sight of what has his attention.

A tall, dark figure stands still at the end of the room. The light that bleeds through the thin curtains behind it wasn’t enough to expose its face but instead illuminates the swirling black vapor that made up this human form.

From your years of experience, you learned how to deal with these kinds of things. Ghosts gravitated towards you like a moth to a lit flame. Most of the time, the spirits are harmless, looking for some company, and were eager to ask for favors you often couldn’t fulfill. Other times, they were more malevolent entities, existing to feed off your fears, and had the reputation of being stubborn guests.

From the way, the room turned impossibly cold in the middle of a sweltering summer afternoon and the heaviness in your gut, the shadow in front of you was definitely the latter.

"Who are you? How did you get here?" Your voice booms through the silence. "Why are you here-"

The cabin door slams open, the shadow dispersing the moment the sunlight bleeds through the room. You jump, gasping as your whole body turns around. The two figures at the doorway are dark, the sudden beams of light blinding you for a moment before you manage to recognize Connor and Travis.

“Why is it so damn dark in here? And cold? Jeez, Y/n, open the curtains at least,” Travis nags with a smirk on his lips.

“I don’t need light to see.” You groan, turning your face away, the sun shining right at you as Travis begins ripping open the curtains. “And I hate when the sun gets in my eyes,” you complain, stepping aside where sunlight doesn’t reach. Though you saw the shadow disperse, you glance at the back of the room, double-checking that what you saw was gone.

"You know... “

Your focus returns to the two boys standing side by side a few feet away from you. Both of them sporting the mischievous smirk that all the Hermes kids had when they’re about to stir up trouble. Connor only uttered two words, but it was clear they were up to something, and you were about to be involved.

"You've been locked up in here, in the dark, alone, for a while now. It's been like a week and a half since the incident, and we know you’re still a little down,” he trails off, swaying on his feet.

"... yeah?"

"And we think we have the perfect way to cheer you up!" Connor gives you a toothy grin, and as confident as he looked, you don’t quite believe him.

"And that is?"

"I think it's time we execute our bunny prank on the Ares cabin!"

You press your lips together in a thin line; head cocked to the side. "That's supposed to cheer me up?"

"Yeah!"

"How is putting my life in danger going to cheer me up?" Your gaze switches between the two as they exchange looks with each other.

“Um…” Connor says, lost for words.

"It'll be fun. We promise!" Travis insists, waving your comment off. He moves to sit in your chair, leaning back as he props his legs on your desk. "So, have you thought about how we're going to do this?"

You sigh softly, not bothering to protest. If you denied participating, Connor would be quick to remind you what’s at stake.

"I have," you admit. After your last interaction with Clarisse, the prank did come to mind.

The Stoll brother’s faces grew almost as bright as the sun outside. Connor takes a seat on the bed closest to you, leaned in with his elbows on his knees, "Tell us the details then,” he urges.

"Okay, so I found a shape-shifting potion in my spellbook. It's pretty simple. I have all the ingredients except for one. The only thing I need is the hair of a rabbit. Get that for me, and I'll make it." Connor and Travis nod eagerly, and you can already see the gears turning in their heads as they formulate a plan to catch a bunny.

"If you can get it to me in a few hours, we can sneak into their cabin while they're practicing in the arena. Then I can pour a few drops of the potion into their water cooler. The potion is potent; you only need a few drops for it to work."

"Sounds like a solid plan. They'll be thirsty after practicing, and boom, they’re all cute little bunnies,” Travis says, legs unmounting from your desk, and he hops onto his feet.

"So hurry and get me rabbit hair!”

A small, almost manic laugh comes from Connor’s lips, "This is gonna be epic!"

"Should we ask the nymphs for help?" Travis ponders out loud as he makes his way out of the dorm.

"Wait! We should get scissors! Do you have scissors?” Connor asks you, and you giggle. You grab a pair of scissors from your desk drawer, and Connor quickly swipes them from your hands the moment you present them to him.

"Thanks, Y/n!” Swiftly, he turns on his heels, trailing behind Travis.

"Be careful, please! Don't hurt the bunny!"

"We won't! The worse we'll do is give it a bald spot; they’ll be fine!" Travis shouts.

After the slamming of the front door and the ragged footsteps of Connor and Travis’s departure, your smile falters as the silence regresses. The figure you had seen comes to mind, and you frown, Ambrose whining as he sits close to your legs.

"That was weird, wasn't it?" You lean down, affectionately scratching the backs of his ears as Ambrose licks your wrists. The sight of his drooping eyes told you enough to know that this wasn’t the last time you’ll be seeing whatever that was.

"C'mon, let's not worry about that now. We have to make that potion." An uneasy grumble comes from Ambrose's chest as he nuzzles his snout in your hand.

"I know, I know," you whisper before standing up.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

"Shh, they’re coming,” Travis announces in a whisper, silencing you and Connor’s conversation. The distanced chattering and footsteps of the Ares campers become louder as Clarisse pushes open the front door. The three of you duck lower in your place as they scatter to their beds, beginning to take off their armor. Travis slowly rises from his crouching position, peaking enough to see the inside. He gives you and Connor a nod, a silent okay to peek yourselves. Cautiously, you come up, watching the group now crowding around the water dispenser, playfully telling each other to hurry up.

Connor lightly pats your shoulder with excitement, and you scrunch your face, anticipation swirling in your stomach as one by one, they begin taking sips from their water bottles. Your jaw drops as Mark forms a snout, his hands flying up to his face.

"W-what?" He sputters, moving closer to his reflection in the mirror. "What is-"

The rest of his words became soft squeals, his whole body shrinking and shifting into a stark white bunny in the blink of an eye.

“Um? Did that just-?”

“How did-”

“You have bunny ears!” Ellis shouts, pointing at Clarisse while she formed a pair of her own. Clarisse didn’t have time to comment as Ellis joins her half-brother. One by one, they began shrinking, and small shrieks fill the room.

"What are you guys doing?" The three of you practically jump out of your skin, heads snapping in the direction of the voice.

Percy’s eyes are wide and curious, furrowing his eyebrows at the chaos breaking out in the Ares cabin. You open your mouth to say something but stop yourself, not wanting to blow your cover.

“It must have been the water!”

“When I see the Stoll Brother’s I’m going to-” Squeal.

Travis’s face was a tint of pink from holding in his laughter. He doesn’t respond, simply waving at Percy to come and see for himself. You and Percy exchange a smile before turning back to the window.

His chance at seeing the pool of white bunnies went down the drain; the four of you met with an angry Clarisse instead. To your dismay, she didn't completely transform. Her normally brown eyes are now crimson and her mouth transformed into a whiskered snout. White bunny ears peek through her brown hair, making it look like she was wearing one of those bunny ear headbands they sell at the pharmacy around Easter time. You’d be laughing as much as the Stoll Brothers if Clarisse’s stare wasn’t fixed on you and only you. You give her a nervous smile as you step away carefully, and the moment Clarisse moves to jump out the window, the four of you bolted.

“She’s gonna kill us!” You exclaim; Travis and Connor burst into laughter, hands over their stomach as they run beside you.

“Split up! She can’t kill all of us!” Travis suggests, already making a beeline into the forest with Connor.

“Yeah, cause she’s gonna go after me!”

“We’ll weave you a nice shroud!”

“WOW, THANKS!”

The cackles of the two made you roll your eyes, and you make a mental note never to help them with a prank ever again. You grunt as Percy grabs onto your wrist, and you stumble for a second until you catch up to his pace.

“You can’t run from me forever!” Clarisse shouts, running close behind. She was right, you couldn’t avoid her forever, but you just needed her to calm down. "When I catch you, I'm tying your necks like shoelaces!"

You cringe at the threat as you and Percy burst through the swinging doors of the Arts and Craft center, weaving your way through the campers.

“Sorry!” You shout over their groans as you’re pulled into one of the hallways. Seeing the closets along the walls of the hallway gave you an idea. You bite your lip, focusing on the door leading to the outside. Reaching your hand out, you flick your fingers forward, causing the door to burst open fast enough for it to lock in place.

The moment you approach the last door in the hallway, you grab the knob. A grunt leaves Percy’s lips as you drag him in the closet with you. He loses his footing from the change of direction, spinning hastily toward you, and the both of you stagger into the closet. You yelp, the weight of Percy’s body sending your back right against the wall, and the knob comes out of grip right as it slams closed.

Percy grunts, his hands push against the wall beside your frame, promptly lifting himself away from you.“Sor-”

“Shh.” Your index finger rests your lips as you look at the door. Your shoulders tense up, afraid that Clarisse had heard the slam. Soon, Clarrise’s pounding footsteps rise like a crescendo and, to your relief, gradually fades as she runs right out of the building. A shaky sigh leaves your lips before glancing at Percy, who’s directly in front of you. You smile sheepishly, foot moving to step back only to be met with the wall.

Percy’s heart beats loud in his chest, and he was hoping that you couldn’t hear it. He tried to step back as well, but Percy’s foot was met with the shelves behind him to his dismay. He scans your face in the dim lighting for a few seconds. Suddenly, he’s reminded of how he stumbled on top of you, making him too embarrassed to look at you any longer. His focus falters to the shelves beside him, forcing himself to find interest in the tubs of paint stacked on them.

“It’s your fault,” you accuse after some silence. Shock flashes across Percy’s face,

“Huh?”

“Because you were so nosey, you blew our cover.” You reach over, and you poke his shoulder. Percy’s peers down at where you poked him as if he was offended.

“At least I ran with you. Travis and Connor left you for dead!”

“Great friends, they are, huh?” You ask, your voice laced with playful sarcasm.

Percy laughs, "I think you've taken the trophy of being the most hated by Clarisse," he jokes.

"I don't think I can one-up you. You literally fought her dad and won," you point out. "I think if we split up, she'd definitely come after me. Imagine the last thing you see when you die is Clarisse looking like… that. "

Percy laughs and you laugh, too, feeling comfortable with making light of the situation now that you were out of harm's way.

"How did that even happen!?”

"I don't know!” You sigh, bummed that Clarisse had managed to be the only person who stayed human. “Maybe she didn’t drink enough water?”

“Wow, the only person you needed to transform into a bunny just didn’t,” Percy says as he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning against the shelves.

“Pretty much.”

“You have amazing luck, Y/n,” he says sarcastically.

“Whatever,” you mumble, eye faltering to the shelves beside you. Percy’s laughter fills the small space, making it hard to prevent the smile from creeping on your lips. The sound of footsteps interrupts you as you open your mouth to say something else and it brings Percy’s laughter to an end. Your shoulders are practically up to your ears as you look into Percy’s wide eyes before he mouths, “we’re dead.” If it is Clarisse, you guys are cornered, and you prepare to shadow travel even if it meant you might pass out, especially if you bring him with you.

You furrow your eyebrows as you hear two familiar voices, and soon the door opens, revealing you both to Beckendorf and Silena. There is a moment of silence, Silena blinking at the both of you, her head tilted slightly to the side as she observes the tension. Beckendorf’s right eyebrow raises, glancing between you and Percy’s face.

"Ehm, is this like a seven-minutes-in-heaven thing?" Your face gets hot, and you exchange a look with Percy, noticing the tips of his ears are bright red.

"No, we were hiding from Clarisse,” he stutters out, gaze snapping to the two, and you nod quickly,

"Because I turned her into a bunny and-"

"She didn't transform all the way-"

"It's okay. Charles and I would sneak around at first, too," Silena interrupts, her lips curled up in a satisfied smile.

"We were just talking!" You and Percy say in unison. The more defensive you got, the more suspicious you both came off. From the way Beckendorf and Silena smiled at each other, you knew they weren’t buying it.

Beckendorf shrugs, and he steps forward, reaching between the two of you to grab the box of beads from the shelf. He hums, “It’s clear we interrupted something. I just needed this. You guys can carry on,” he teases, amused at how embarrassed the both of you are.

“But- we-” you stutter, unable to finish your sentence, Beckendorf shutting the door, and Silena makes a sound between a giggle and a squeal as they walk away.

Percy clears his throat, interrupting the short silence that fell between the two of you, “Um, should we…?” His voice falters, not finishing his sentence, but you already knew what he was going to ask.

“Yeah,” you agree awkwardly, opening the closet. “Let’s go,” you mumble, stepping out with Percy close behind you.

"Where should we go now?" Percy asks, opening the door to the outside for you, and you smile, finding it sweet. You thank him shortly, and you shrug,

"I'm not sure, but I don't think Clarisse has calmed down yet…" you trail off, catching sight of a fuming Clarisse standing beside Chiron a few meters away. “Dammit.”

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

You shift on your feet, standing in Chiron’s office alongside Travis, Connor, and Percy. Clarisse’s crimson eyes are still narrowed at you as Chiron sighs, backing into his wheelchair before his backside disappears, allowing him to sit fully into it.

"I understand you guys are just having fun. However, I believe the Ares Cabin deserves a little break from the pranks, don't you think?" He asks as he looks at Connor and Travis.

You fiddle with your fingers, your shoulders slumped along with Connor and Travis’s shoulders. Travis nods, and he hums as if he considers it for a moment.

“We could prank the Apollo Cabin instead?" Connor suggests, and Chiron opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. You press your lips together in an attempt to refrain from smiling, discovering that Percy was doing the same. You became more amused at his face turning a little pink as he holds in his laughter, and you quickly look at your hands to recollect yourself.

“I’d prefer you tone down the pranking altogether,” Chiron clarifies. Connor frowns, and he nods slowly,

“Oh. Yeah, we could do that, I guess,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Chiron nods, shifting his gaze to you,

“Y/n, what did you used to transform them into rabbits?” You hum softly,

“It’s a shape-shifting potion from my spellbook,” you explain.

“How long will it take for them to transform back?” You look up for a second, trying to remember your notes. While recalling the day you went through Ernest’s potions book to jot the recipe in your Book of Shadows, you realize how many forms of the potion there were depending on the transformation length. Ernest had mentioned in passing something about reading his notes carefully. It wasn’t until now did you realize that the potion you had made was not the short-term one.

“About … 24 hours,” you admit, and Connor snorts beside you.

“What!?” Clarisse snaps, her fists clenching on her side. “You mean, they’re going to be like that until tomorrow afternoon?”

“Yes, that’s what 24 hours means,” you snap back; her presence was enough to annoy you. Clarisse’s glare burns into your face, and she moves to take a step, about to charge at you.

“Clarisse, please! They will be punished accordingly,” Chiron reassures her, making her halt in her place, and she groans, her arms crossing over her chest as she waits for Chiron’s verdict.

"Well, I was going to assign you four to clean the Pegasus stables, but now that it has come to my attention that the potion lasts 24 hours, your punishment is to feed and clean up after them while they’re under the spell."

“Ew, I’d rather clean the stables,” Connor mutters, and you furrow your eyebrows,

“But wouldn’t the pegasus stables be more work?” You ask, hoping to get him to change your punishment. The last thing you wanted to do was be surrounded by a bunch of angry bunnies. Sure they were small, but you did not doubt in your mind that you were going to be attacked by them.

“They are a big group; I think it is fair that Clarisse gets assistance in taking care of them,” He says calmly, his fingers intertwined as they rest on the desk in front of him. “Feed them before you go off to dinner, accommodate their sleeping arrangements and clean up after them before morning check-ins,” he decides. You sigh softly. At this point, as long as Clarisse wasn’t on the hunt to kill you, you were okay with it.

As Chiron dismisses you, you catch the satisfied smile Clarisse was sporting, and you felt your anger swirling in your chest. You grunt as you turn on your heels, Travis and Connor behind you as Percy walks by your side. You sigh, lazily trotting off the steps of the big house,

“This...”

“Sucks,” Percy finishes your sentence, and you nod, the both of you frowning.

☆’.･.･:★:･.･.’☆

“Stop biting me!” You complain, nudging off the crowd of bunnies from your arm. Percy laughs, seated on the floor beside you as he helps you make a nest of blankets big enough for the bunnies.

“They hate you,” he comments, amused. His smirk falls flat, and he hisses as one of them gets a good bite on his finger. “Ow!” He squints at the bunny before picking it up. It was your turn to laugh, and you watch curiously as he walks to one of the dressers and plopping it on top. “I don’t know who you are, but you’re in time-out,” he grumbles.

“Wait, that’s actually really smart!” You look down at the bunnies around you. “They can’t jump from that high!” As you reach for the closest bunny, they run out of your reach, squealing, and soon they were huddled under a bed.

Percy smiles as they disperse, “well, now they’ll leave us alone,” he says as he sits beside you to continue piling the extra blankets you found. “You should have let me play that rock-paper-scissors game with them,” Percy mentions.

The two of you were stuck making a makeshift bed for the Ares campers since Travis and Connor had to round up their cabin for curfew. Well, one of them could have done it, but they insisted that it was a two-person job. You said it was unfair if they skipped out and they offered to settle who will go with an intense rock-paper-scissors game; best of three. You had accepted the challenge and lost miserably.

"I should have known there was no point in trying with their luck."

"Yeah, you walked right into that."

You side-eye him, "anyways, you would have lost.”

“How are you so sure?”

"Because, you just would have," you say shortly, and you smile as he turns to you.

“Well, considering how lucky you've been all day," he says sarcastically, and you squint at him. "I would have had a better chance,” he gloats.

“You’ve been real sassy today,” you mumble, and he laughs. “It’s fine. There’s not that much to do anyway.” Carefully, you roll the sides of the blankets into a nest shape after Percy finishes piling them. You rise on your feet, “It’d sleep there if I were a bunny. What do you think?”

“I would too. It seems comfortable,” Percy smiles as he stands up.

"Are you losers done?" Clarisse walks into the cabin with bowls of water for her siblings, and you roll your eyes as she puts them on the ground.

"Yeah, is it to their liking?" You ask with fake politeness, straining a smile. Clarisse observes the bundle of blankets as her siblings get in to try it out. She furrows her eyebrows, listening attentively to the various squeals. She had inherited most of the bunny traits, and though she didn’t transform completely, she could understand what they were saying.

“Eh, it’s good enough,” she concludes after hearing all the complaints of her siblings. “I’m sick of seeing your faces; get out.” She didn’t have to tell you twice, and you don’t waste any time as you turn on your heels. You were sick of seeing her face too.

Walking down the steps of the Ares Cabin, Percy follows beside you. A slight hum comes from his lips, and you look over,

“I was wondering when you’d come back to sword fighting,” he mentions, and you nod, recalling that you had agreed to attend classes after sparing with him a couple of weeks ago. “Your brother has been coming more often; he’s gotten a lot better.”

“That’s why my body has been aching so much,” you mutter more to yourself. For the past week, you thought you were staining your body in your sleep.

“Huh?”

“Long story,” you wave your hand, and you think about his question.

If you were completely honest, you weren’t as depressed about what had happened anymore. After you talked with Percy, you had finally come to terms with many of the thoughts that were tormenting you. However, you still stayed locked up in the Hermes Cabin because in the past week or so, you’ve gotten so much studying done. You wanted to stay in and read, and you were planning on milking your excused absences for as long as you could. But now, you considered that maybe you should return to your normal activities. Connor and Travis were becoming more worried, so were Atticus and Lou Ellen.

“I could join tomorrow,” you say hesitantly, your heart fluttering as Percy’s face brightens up. “Are you that excited to beat me up?” You joke, and Percy laughs, shaking his head.

“No! It’s just… it’s weird not seeing you around.” He admits shyly as he looks away. The cool summer breeze blows on your warm cheeks, and you swallow,

“I’ll go tomorrow,” you confirm, sounding more sure of yourself this time. Once you approach the steps of the Hermes cabin, you turn to him. “Good night, Perce.”

The sides of Percy’s eyes crinkle as he nods, “Good night,” he says as he slowly backs away. “And try to wake up on time, yeah? I’m not feeding the Ares cabin alone tomorrow,” he teases. You did have a habit of being the last person to arrive at breakfast. He must have noticed.

“Yeah, yeah. Worry about yourself, waterboy.” You smile, hearing him scoff. Opening the door to the Hermes cabin, you look back at him one more time. You take in the wide grin on his face, and he nods,

“Got it. I’ll remember that when you’re being chased by Clarisse again.” Your mouth drops open, eyes glinting at his banter.

“You better go before the harpies eat you!” You shoo him away as he laughs, then with a short salute of his two fingers, he walks off to his cabin.

masterlist taglist: @xxyrr @nct127bee @mochabreezeee @minamisulemisa @yanfeisluvr @-thatgirloverthere- @sanovr @passionswift @nanskidoodle @Slytherclaw-kitten @zhethugisa

[twistedmusings]

Vil Schoenheit: After RSA’S Performance

The first time he had been left speechless was because of you.

You who always knew what to say, you who always had an answer to the problem at hand.

Where were you?

A/N: What is formatting. I don’t even know.

But listen though. When did Vil get hot? I mean he has always been hot but is it now because he is sad boy? A rude boy turned sad boy? Is that why I am attracted to him now and was compelled to write this?

I don’t know but I’m in love so I’m going to run with it.

This is how Vil would react if MC looked like they were enjoying RSA’s performance.

Part 2, here!

What Vil felt couldn’t really be put into words.

His grades would say that he was one of the highest ranking students in the Language Arts for Night Raven College. Not just in regular human speech but also in fairy-dialect, animal dialect and any sort of dialect that Professor Trein would demand. Vil also excelled in prose, poetry and abstract writing.

Being left speechless was not something that was supposed to happen, not twice in a row.

The tightening of his throat would speak otherwise, as well as the sudden feeling of vertigo.

Vil could barely hear Kalim through the jovial sound of Neige’s voice, the one thing that had kept him awake for these past few weeks--no these past few years. When was the last time that he had felt so helpless? Was it when he had first met him? Neige, with his bright smile and lovable personality that made people overlook his mistakes, his very obvious mistakes. The way he wouldn’t go when it was his cue, or how Neige would forget almost every other line only to finally have the script memorized by the time it was opening night.

A children’s song.

“What even is this song! The chorus just won’t leave my head!”

He wasn’t even ready during dress rehearsal, Neige would wait until fucking opening night.

Was it dramatic to say that the whole event had haunted him? As well as the domino effect of undeserved fame that Neige had gotten afterwards?

No, to Vil, being overshadowed by this person despite all the effort that he put into each and everyone of his performances was something akin to being shot by a gun.

Over and over and over.

He had been beaten by a children’s song.

Every single commercial, every music video, every promotion and every product placement that Neige did was like a dagger carving him up from the inside out.

So when the VDC presented itself, he jumped at the chance to not just shape himself into the perfect being to defeat Neige, but to shape others to show that not only could he surpass himself but he could help others break through their own ‘ugly’ exteriors to discover their own personal beauty. And by all means he had done it, he had taken five rough and ugly rocks and turned them into polished jewels.

Polished jewels that framed the diamond he had worked so hard to turn himself into.

His grip on the audience seat loosens when something flashes through his mind.

The practices had been rather arduous, not only having to make sure that he was flawless but trying to deal with Epel’s stupid gender based ideas, Ace and Deuce’s lack of grace and even Kalim’s really really terrible singing voice. Yet something had made it even a little bit worth it.

Someone, he needed to correct himself, someone had made it a bit worth it.

The sixth potato that he had hoped to start shaping after this whole thing was over.

What could he say about you? At first glance you were truly nothing special. An uneventful, magicless person from an equally uneventful place that hadn’t even been accepted into this school but was instead made a student because of the monster next to you. You weren’t even a student, more like a glorified problem solver for the Headmaster. Ideally, Vil should have also hated your guts since you were essentially getting the same education that he had been getting when he was a first year but without any effort but there was something different about you that he had not expected.

I think you’re probably the fairest out of everyone in the school.

A small glimmer of something beautiful.

But in the end your opinion is the one that will matter to you.

You were honest. That is something that Rook had mentioned about you once he did his recon of the new manager for the VDC team. How the Ramshackle prefect really didn’t have anything to offer but that the quality that stood out the most to the hunter was your refreshing honesty.

He had modeled for crowds of adoring fans and yet he found himself pulling out his pocket mirror and fixing non-existent imperfections before talking to you. Yet even when he tried to make himself look presentable to you, you always seemed to catch him when all of his walls were down.

“You should have seen the information that I got from Riddle, Leona, and Azul. They have really gotten a reputation behind them, the Ramshackle prefect. I wonder what will happen if we keep them close~”

Vil wouldn’t admit it to anyone but there had been a brief moment that his heart skipped a beat when the news about how the VDC team would be rooming in Ramshackle. He figured it had skipped out of beat due to the horrific news that he would have to room in a dorm that had not been used for who knows how long but when he had come inside and been greeted by your smile, it was almost surreal how he had come to terms with this feeling of nervousness.

The night before the VDC had found Vil in the Ramshackle lounge, a cup of tea in his hand as he watched a video of that day’s performance. There were still minor imperfections here and there but those would be easily covered up by his own singing and movements. Epel had also improved exponentially which highly increased the probability of a successful performance and with Jami’s hypnotizing movements and Rook’s aura there was no doubt that he had this competition under his heel.

But nerves like these didn’t leave overnight.

A creak on the stairs brought him back to the present, taking a sip of his tea as he continued to look at the video.

“If you’re here to ask me about why I am awake at this hour, Rook, I would like to remind you that you insisted we review the performance in the morning which already did nothing to calm my nerves--”

"Vil-senpai?"

His head snapped up to look at you , the light of the moon masking him in shadows while illuminating you as you made your way down the staircase. He clicked his tongue and turned off his phone.

"Was I interrupting something?"

Vil shook his head, “Last minute detail check. Everything has to be perfect by tomorrow.”

You nod and walk towards him, standing next to the couch before pointing to it. Vil looked at you before looking at the seat next to him. What were you--oh. He nodded and you sat down on the other side of the love seat, both of you farther apart that he would have liked.

“Does the manager have anything they want to say to me?”

“It just gets me thinking. You have been doing this performance perfectly in my eyes. Over and over again that it makes me wonder just what you think is lacking.”

You bring your feet up to the seat, hugging your knees together as you look down at the floor, “Maybe your definition of perfect and my definition of perfect are so different.”

The Pomefiore dorm leader rolls his eyes, “Did your Heartslabyul friends put you up to this?”

“Ace and Deuce? Great Sevens no. If they did I would have rightfully ignored them and gone to bed. I’m just your manager, I’m not here to negotiate.”

“Just a manager.” Vil frowns and looks at you, “You understand that you are currently housing the Vil Schoenheit as well as six other people who happen to be under my temporary tutelage. If you and your dorm weren’t around I would have had to keep those two Heartslabyul potatoes in the Pomefiore dorm and I don’t think I could stand letting them sleep in one of our beds. Our dorm has standards, luckily yours is the most neutral place I can stand being around those two without losing sleep.”

He blinks at the snort you let out, staring as you wave your hands and apologize while trying to prevent another one from surfacing.

“That is the only straightforward compliment my dorm has received. Neutral.” you laugh again before wiping a fake tear from your eyes, “Am I allowed to take it as a compliment?”

Vil is glad for the darkness, it hid the sudden flush in his cheeks.

“Take it as you will.”

You nod and stand up, stretching and letting out a satisfied sigh when your back made a small cracking noise that had Vil clutching at his cup. Anybody else and he would have walked out of whatever conversation he was having, so why did he find that tolerable with you?

“Then let me pay it back.” you hold out your hand and for a brief moment Vil wants to take it. Clearly that was an invitation for something and it alarmed him that he didn’t mind the mystery behind it. Yet your finger pointed at the cup, Vil looking down and seeing it was empty.

Oh.

He hands it to you, doing his best to make it so that your fingers would brush in the most accidental way possible.

“In my own opinion, as well as the opinion of others, I think you are the fairest out of everyone in the school.”

The air in Vil’s lungs gets caught in his throat.

“No joke. The way you carry yourself, the effort you put into everything you are a part of. Even the potato comments are almost...endearing? Potato plants produce rather pretty flowers, right? Maybe you are just trying to get the flowers inside of us to bloom as well?”

He is staring.

He is staring and not saying anything. You had left him without speech.

“But in the end your opinion will be the one that matters most to you. I just hope that it will always be positive.” you scratch the back of your head and yawn, “I’m going to grab a glass of water and head back to bed, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Your eyes are still meeting his as a small flush adorned your cheeks, probably embarrassed by what you had just said. Or he would like to think you would be embarrassed, if this was any regular love story he would stand up and grab your wrist and keep you from running away from him before cupping your face and leaning in--

“Good night, Vil-senpai.”

"Goodnight."

You who always knew what to say, you who always had an answer to the problem at hand.

Where were you?

His eyes start looking around for your figure, hands itching and brain running slower than it ever had before. Maybe you would make it better? No, you would make it better. You would go over to him and smile before saying that the competition hadn’t even started and just because that song seemed to be moving everyone under a stupid nostalgia spell, Vil’s hardwork would shine through. Neige hadn’t taken everything from him, not just yet.

Vil feels the weight on his shoulders lessen when he looks at you only for it to double when he sees your face.

You were smiling, humming along to the silly melody as your head bobbed up and down.

Even in practice your gaze remained fixed on them, yet with Neige you seemed to feel that infectious, annoying melody and enjoying it?

“What’s wrong? You look pale.”

Had he lost you as well?

“Vil...Vil?”

The first time he had been left speechless was because of you.

“...Nothing. Don’t worry.” he turns his back to Rook, “It’s not worth seeing their performance. I will be in the waiting room.”

Vil walks away, so many thoughts clouding his head as he replays the words you had said to him.

Who the hell cared about his opinion when yours was just as important?

[tendousthoughts]

You’re getting so popular now. Don’t forget me when you become famous

ANYWAY I will say you have great taste in anime

And also

To make a request: how would some of the setters react to their s/o pranking them by saying “I’m glad I didn’t break up with you that one time”

I saw it on teesumu’s page and thought it was hilarious

Have a wonderful day!

- 🍍 anon

HQ boys reacting to “I’m glad I didn’t break up with you that one time”

Character(s): Atsumu & Kenma

Warning(s): Cursing

Song of the day: Bubble Gum by Clairo

A/N to ask writer: I won’t! You’re my first ever anon so I don’t think I could ever lmao. You’re amazing and the main reason I came back! Ngl I was like having major writers block but to see you coming back to my account made me so fucking happy. >~< You didn’t hear that! Ah, thank you! Anime is so good lmao- I chose Atsumu and Kenma. If you want I can do a part two for Akaashi and someone else- (Aghh I can’t remember if you had any other setters in your top 5 at the moment)

A/N: So here I go- I passed 150 followers and I’m close to 200! Thank you all so much. Part three to my series will be out soon so stay tuned! [Disclaimer: all credit goes to @/teesumu for the idea, I haven’t read theirs yet! I hope I did this right but again! I didn’t come up with this thanks to my amazing anon, I know @/teesumu did!]

All my works

Got a request? Or do you wanna be a anon? Or just wanna talk?

Atsumu

You had been on your phone a bit when you came across a dare video. So maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea. But what harm could it do? Hm? You stood up stretching. “Babyyyyy!” You called out. Your stomach growling. “Tsumu!” You called out again.

“Coming babe!” He called from the room over, soon getting to you. “What ya want cutie?” He chuckles a bit. That stupid grin on his face, as he leaned his body on the door frame.

“I’m hungry!” Your stomach growled again as he walked up and held you. God his arms were almost too perfect. If that was even a thing.

“Ah okay what does ma Angel want to eat then..?” He asked. He was nowhere near as good a cook as Osamu. Both of you knew it but he liked to deny it. He didn’t like to say Osamu was better than him at anything. Though he was.

“I wanna get a burger please..” you muttered. Your is voice soft. It had been awhile since you felt comfortable enough in your own skin. After all that had happened before you had been put in a terrible mindset.

“Mhm. Anything for ma angel,” he laid a kiss on your soft lips. Before pulling off smiling. “Let’s get a good juicy burger. With fries! I want a soda too,” He smiled, already walking to grab his keys from the drawer.

“Sounds good.” You laughed softly. It was great how quickly Atsumu reacted to knowing what you wanted. Already grabbing the keys and such.

After a few minutes you guys were already in the car. You look to the floor thinking before shaking your head. Atsumu looked over a bit confused but just gently hummed. “Ya okay baby..?” He whispered softly.

“Mhm.. I’ve just been thinking and.. I’m glad I didn’t break up with you that one time.” A small smile on your face to see his reaction. But he is already looking back at the road.

“Ah I see.. I’m glad that I didn’t either,” He chuckles softly.

What? What does he mean ‘I didn’t either’? Did he actually regret it all at some point..?

You just shook your head softly, pulling your knees to your chest slightly. So maybe you did something to him, to make him think that way. By the time you got to the place you were lost in a prison of your own thoughts. Just wanting an answer.

It took him a moment to notice you weren’t answering him when he parked. He gently kissed your head. “Baby ya okay..?” He whispered softly. He hadn’t been serious. It was just a way to fight that nasty feeling inside him. That feeling of not being perfect. So maybe if he pretended not to be with you either at some point it would balance it out.

It didn’t, it clearly didn’t. Now you were at the part back to how you looked. Fuck. It wasn’t just the way you looked. It was your voice. It was fucking everything that made you insecure.

You finally looked up. Trying to not let you stupid tears fall. “I’m sorry..” you muttered softly. It wasn’t what you wanted to ever hear. But you almost felt like you needed to apologize for not being enough.

“What?” He looked confused. Underly confused. He really didn’t think about the outcome. Because now you’re crying, even though you’re trying so desperately to hide it.

It took only a brief second for him to have his arms wrapped around you again. “I am sorry for ever making you regret being with me..” you muttered trying to stop the tears from falling. “It was supposed to be a prank and.. and..” you couldn’t breathe. At least that’s what it felt like. Your heart was pounding hard as you closed your eyes.

It took him a moment to get what you were saying. “Angel..” he mumbled, holding you closer even though you tried to move away. He felt terrible. “Hey.. I didn’t mean it too.. I just.. I thought.. I thought it might make me feel better. I didn’t want it to hurt ya.” he whispered softly, holding you to his chest. You knew he didn’t have any ill intentions. He wasn’t like that. He never was like that, and maybe that’s why you loved him so much.

“It’s okay..” he knew you were hurt but didn’t want to press you.

“I love you ma angel..” he muttered softly. It took some time but soon after you felt comfortable enough and both of you got out of the car. You and him were a pair. Forever. He was your soulmate and you were his.

Kenma

He is a professional gamer now. Times were rough sometimes. It was common for you two to go hours without talking, almost forgetting about each other’s existence. But you loved that. You both had busy lives and when you did spend time together it had hours of talking about that day. You guys had a ‘weird’ relationship that no one else would understand. But it was perfect for you two.

It had been about an hour when you decided to do the prank. When you saw it, it kind of flooded all of your thoughts. The only problem is that you were worried about his reaction. The relationship had problems when it started, which you thought you both worked to fix. It just worried you that it might start up again.

You walked to the door and knocked. You bit your lip, opening the door when you heard you could. “Hey kitten..” he mumbled softly, his voice raspy from lack of sleep, you guessed. He turned towards you, and opened his arms for you.

“Hey love..” you crawl on his lap and hugged him. His chest touched yours as he held you.

“Everything okay..?” he asked softly. His hand gently rubbed circles on your back as he held you close. His hand was warm and soft. You felt so safe and second guessed your decision on doing the prank.

“Mhm.. just glad I didn’t break up with you that one time..” you muttered into his chest. Almost immediately the air felt like it had thickened.

He had slowed a bit. “Huh..?” He slopped a moment later, confused. It wasn’t something you would say normally.

“I was just thinking about how I’m glad I didn’t break up with you..” you muttered softly. Now regretting your decision.

He heard you loud and clear the first time. Though he wishes he didn’t. He bit his lip and shook his head. “Me too..” he muttered softly “I’m glad you didn’t..” His voice cracked softly. His arms tightened around you subconsciously.

“Babe..?” You looked up at him. It was like him to hide his feelings. You knew that. He knew that. Everyone knew that. Kenma wasn’t social. He never was and he probably will never be. You were worried. Of course you were. You loved him. You really loved him.

“Mhm?” He wasn’t looking at you anymore. His eyes pinned on his desk. It was a tactic of his, if he didn’t look at you maybe it would make it less awkward. It didn’t.

“Are you okay..?” You asked softly. You knew he wasn’t. You knew he was overthinking again. He always did. God fucking damnit. You shouldn’t have done this fucking dumb prank. He won’t even look at you at this point. You know you screwed up.

“I’m fine.” He blurted out. His responses were short and to the point. Which made you more worried.

“I’m joking baby.. I didn’t mean to worry you. It was supposed to be a prank okay? I love you so much. I never have and never will stop loving you..” you muttered softly.

A long much needed sigh of relief was heard, and then warm arms wrapped around you. “Thank fucking god.” It took him a moment to continue talking. “I don‘t know how I would react if you didn’t tell me it was a prank.. I would probably cry later or something.” he whispered.

It took a moment to take in the weight of the words. Not only had he told you how he felt, which was rare by itself. But he told you that he was going to cry. It might have been one of the only moments where you came to the realization of how much he loves you. Of course there was the occasional I love you’s and stuff but that just felt.. forced or something at times. So to hear that made you feel special.. or maybe a warm feeling inside to know everything was perfect right where it was.

“I’m sorry baby..” you whispered softly as your eyes met again. God, everything about you was.. perfect. Too perfect. Like you were a god sent from above and he was just some random person. You loved each other and that’s all that ever would matter.

“It’s okay..“ His eyes pinned on yours, as his grip was tight. “I love you, y/n..” he mumbled softly.

“I love you too.” You smiled a bit. It was everything you have ever needed. Him. The way he said your name just gave you butterflies. This was perfect. It wasn’t a bad idea in the end. It worked out perfectly.. and you were so glad.

Follows and likes are appreciated! Please reblog if you enjoyed it so more people can find my work! Thank you all for your support! Stay safe, and have a good rest of your day!

[watanabes-cum-dump]

A construct’s finale

When your beloved construct gets corrupted by the punishing virus, you aren’t quite sure who’s supposed to make it out alive

Note: God has allowed me to exist for another day and I am going to make it everyone's problem. Also I did one of these for Chrome here 

Characters: Kamui, Lee, and Watanabe (will do more eventually when I actually have ideas for them lol) 

Warnings: Gore, death, angst, have fun lmao

Tagging: @husbando-collector-sanctuary because I said I’d do this. Watch your babies suffer

Kamui

You should have known something was wrong when Kamui was too quiet while you two were scouting an empty building. He didn’t chat with you like he usually did, he only held your hand and looked around. 

It shouldn’t have taken this long for you to realize that Kamui has been corrupted. Because now he has you in a choke hold while tears stream down his face and his eyes flicker between red and his usual purple. 

“K-kamui” you choke, reaching for him. 

Your hand comes in contact with his cheek and he suddenly drops you. He stumbles back, screaming in pain, no doubt from the Punishing virus. 

“Don’t come any closer” he commands, moving further away from you. You don’t care or you tuned him out because you step closer. “I said don’t!” he yells before coughing. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” you ask, inching closer. 

“I wanted to be with you, commandant. B-but I hurt you. I’m supposed to protect you but I-” 

“Hey, hey. It’ll be ok. I’m fine” you reach for him again, but he flinches and backs away. 

“Commandant, don’t- please don’t” he says quietly. 

You stop, clenching your fists while the blonde cries and fishes a small knife from inside his jacket. You don’t have time to react before he plunges is into his chest. 

“Kamui!” you shout, running towards him, he doesn’t back away this time as you try to stop him. He only takes a deep breath and jams it into his chest, screaming as he pries the metal open. 

“C-commandant, remember when on my birthday you said you’d grant me a wish, but I never ended up asking you for anything?” 

He coughed again before looking into your eyes “I want to ask you for one last thing, commandant” 

Kamui holds you hand, it would have been sweet but he gently puts the knife in your hand, closing your fist around it. His vitals fluids coat your hands, but you can’t bring yourself to do anything about it as you shake uncontrollably. 

“I’m sorry. But I’m not strong enough to do it by myself” 

“No!” you shout “I’m not doing this, Kamui. Please I’ll let you go, I won’t say anything about it, just don’t do this” 

He gives you a warm smile before he reaches up and strokes your face “It’s gonna be ok, commandant. You have Lee and the others, you won’t be alone” 

“There has to be another way” 

The construct levels your shaky hands with his core smiling at you “I don’t want to hurt anyone else, so please do this for me, commandant” 

“You won’t. I know you won’t Kamui” you sob “Please Kamui, I love you” 

Kamui seems shocked for a moment before smiling “I love you too, commandant” 

You’re shaking hard as he guides you hand closer to his pulsing core. 

“It’ll be ok” 

You close your eyes and take a shaky breath, and when you open them his core is dim. His eyes are closed and a smile rests on his lips. 

The knife clatters to the floor as you hold your face in your hands, crying your heart out until the rest of Gray Raven finds you... and Kamui’s lifeless frame. 

Watanabe

This was inevitable, the old construct thinks. He removed his inver device and left with only a weak filter on his frame. Watanabe should have known that sooner or later he would get corrupted. He would have accepted it if it were to come for that, he would have accepted it a year ago. But now you’re here, and now you’re watching him loose himself. 

“Stand back, commandant” he growls, clutching his chest. He doesn’t have a heart, he is no human, but he can feel the Punishing virus spread through his systems, racing to his core. It hurts, it feels like having lava replace his vital fluids. But he can’t give into it. Not when you’re here. 

You don’t listen. You never listen to him. Sometimes he finds it funny and even cute, most times it irritates him. This time, you’re putting your life in danger, so he can say he’s fairly pissed. 

You’re both standing in some old ruins, Watanabe’s already cleared it of corrupted and figured that maybe since you two were alone he’d tell you how he’s been feeling lately. Why he’s been avoided you for a while now. But alas, it turns out he’s been corrupted. 

“I said to stay back! Listen to me for once in your damn life” 

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, soldier” you say sharply, but he can hear your voice tremble ever so slightly as you step closer until you’re close enough for him to kill. 

Wait, kill?

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he can feel himself pull out his blades out one moment, and the next when he snaps out of his trance, he sees that you’ve collapsed. 

“No, no, no, no, no” he mutters, kneeling down “I told you, I fucking told you to stay away. Why can’t you listen?”

“Asshole” you choke “Because I fucking love you that’s why. I know why you’ve been avoiding me and I get it but, that was kind of a dick move” 

“Shut up” he says, wiping tears from his eyes as he tears up his coat and wraps it around your gut, cringing when he sees how much blood you’ve already lost. He puts the remains on your shoulders before standing up. 

“Watanabe?” 

“Watanabe to Forsaken, the commandant is injured, they’re in the ruins south of the base. Don’t bother looking for me, I won’t be there. That’s an order” he says into his comm piece before taking it out and crushing it. 

“No, you’re not leaving me” you yell “Watanabe you fucking ass, we can find a way, we-” 

He kneels down and captures your lips in his. It’s a custom the humans of the Forsaken told him about, kissing, a romantic gesture among humans. 

“I’m sorry, commandant. But there’s no room for us right now, not ever actually” 

You yell at him to come back, but he’s already gone. He takes one last look at the ruins and feels the buzzing on his lips before running further and further away. Never to return and never to know if you were safe.

Lee

How did it come to this? He was so careful, he made so many promises, he trained so hard. But here he was, mangled and missing his arm with the punishing virus slowly clouding his mind. While you leaned against the wall on the other side of the ruins full of dead corrupted. 

He winced when he felt the virus progress further in his system. Fuck, he’d have to do something about that. But first...

“Commandant, are you alright?” he asked, breathing heavily. 

You didn’t say anything but you seemed alright. A minor scratch on you cheek, but you’re fine. Not in any sort of danger. Perhaps you weren’t very mentally sound though, you had just witnessed Lee get his arms torn off and watched him destroy twenty or so corrupted. You were bound to be a bit shaken, but you’d be alright. 

“Lee...” 

“I have some bad news, commandant” he said slowly “I’ve been corrupted. And I fear I don’t have much time left” 

Oh what he would give to relive yesterday again. When he accidentally spilled his guts to you after you got hurt during a retrieval mission. You had only laughed and told him to take you to dinner if he were to say that to you. 

“We’ll fix it. We always do” you say, carefully making your way through the ruins and frames of dead corrupted. 

He doubles over when he feels compelled to take out his guns. When he feels like he wants to hurt you. He’d never hurt you. He couldn’t hurt commandant. Ever. 

“N-not this time” he says shakily. It’s progressing fast, he didn’t have a filter or any defences to protect against it. 

You’re just a few feet away, and he suddenly pulls his gun out. He wants to cry when he sees you freeze up with the most terrified expression on your face. And he does, small steady streams of tears make their way down his face as the gun shakes in his hand. He has to stop himself. He has to stop before he hurts you. 

Lee brings the gun to his head, his breaths laboured as he fights the punishing virus’ influence. 

“Lee, what are you doing?” 

He cracks a rare smile at you, well, one of the few smiles you actually catch. He’s fairly sure you didn’t notice all of the times he’s smiled around you. 

“I like you a lot commandant. Take that as you will” he says, before he hears the gun go off. Next thing he knows there’s nothing but ringing. He doesn’t get to see you scream and cry over his frame, your tears mixing with the blue vital fluid that flows out of his head. 

“I’d never leave you commandant. I promise” 

That’s the first and last promise he will ever break. 

[whaleofatjme1920]

Denying Feelings on the Tiled Floor (Masky X F!Reader)

[Masky X F!Reader]

[Warnings: blood, angst]

[AN: I genuinely dont think I've posted this here before but it's from my quotev and I want it here lots of love <3]

Tim can’t really describe the first moment he knew he felt something for you, only that he did. And he knew the risks that came along with having such feelings.

Hanahaki, it’s a terrible disease, really. Instead of giving flowers to the person you love, you grow them in your lungs. If the person that you’re so willingly throwing your affections at doesn’t return them, you die. The flowers cloud your lungs and unfurl, sprouting and taking root as they invade your chest, making it harder and harder to breathe until you eventually choke.

He wasn’t supposed to have feelings for anyone, especially as a proxy and even more so as a respectable group leader. His job is to guide and lead, not feel softly for someone who might never return his feelings. Tim doesn't really think he even deserves to have these type of warm feelings, if he’s being honest.

Not after he failed to protect Brian. Not after he failed to protect Amy. Not after he failed to protect Sarah. Not after he failed to save Alex. Not after he barely managed to protect Jessica. And certainly not after he failed to do right by and protect Jay. His existence was always bound to be one of suffering, not warm feelings and sly glances at someone he feels so deeply for.

He supposes that’s where the Hanahaki comes in from. He can’t just have warm feelings, he must suffer for those two. The warmth he felt for you was at first a spark, small, floating on the wind from something greater and bigger than he could ever imagine. Then, it took hold on every part of him, consuming him until it was ablaze and the flames licked upwards to the heels of the sky.

It was something he never wanted to feel, something he wanted to shove back. But sometimes, it was pleasant, and sweet, and it lured him in like sailors to a siren song.

Sometimes it was just a little smile.

“Good work today,” Tim complimented as he patted your back, watching as you tiredly stumbled back into the house. “I wasn’t sure we were gonna be able to get that guy but you? You were on it.”

You glanced over your shoulder and smiled at him. “Thanks! He was a slipper bastard, but I make it work,” you giggled.

Tim chuckled and closed the door of the temp house his group was currently staying in. “Get some rest tonight, okay?”

“Why? We have something big tomorrow?” You asked, tilting your head slightly.

He followed you into the kitchen, watching as you began to rummage in the fridge for something cold to drink. “No,” he started. “I just want you to get some rest.”

You poked your head from back out of the fridge, genuinely smiling at him. “Sure thing, Masky.”

His heart skipped a beat.

Sometimes it was your laugh.

It had just been you and Tim in the car coming back from a late night convenience store run. Apparently, the rest of your group wanted to have a movie night but the snacks were severely lacking.

There was music playing in the car but he hadn’t been focused on it all. In fact, he was more focused on you telling him things from your childhood.

“I can’t believe they just let us do that,” you had giggled. “I know senior pranks can get out of hand but I’m certain we cost them thousands in actual damage and even more in water damage.”

Tim chuckled and nodded. “I remember for our senior prank, Hoodie and I got the bright idea to steal three pigs from one of the local farms in the area with a group of other guys, and marked them with a one, two and four,” he explained, watching from the corner of his eye as you began to grin. “So, we let them loose in the school and of course, the staff and the students that weren’t in on the prank spent the entire day looking for pig three-” he’s barely able to get the rest of the anecdote out before you burst into laughter.

Tim’s heart grows softer as he joins you, fighting the desire to hold your hand. You sound so beautiful to him.

Tim knows he can’t deny his feelings. He couldn’t try any harder, and unfortunately for him, he has the inkling you don’t feel the same. It’s painful because he can feel the seeds of that terrible disease spreading further and further, consuming him slowly.

You’ve mentioned it before, not wanting to be in love. Not desiring a relationship and by extension, him.

“I just don’t think I’m up for those kind of things,” you said one night as the two of you say up on the roof together.

He tilted his head slightly to the side. “What makes you say that?”

You shrugged. “I’m a proxy, and I don’t think love is in the roster for people like us.” You giggled slightly and fixed your posture before shaking your head. “I think the only types of people who would work with people like us is people like us. But, even then, I think we’re way too emotionally unstable.” You then paused and looked over to your group leader. “What about you?”

Tim shrugged, a small, sad smile on his face. “I think I’m in agreement with you.” He said it, but he doesn’t mean it. He watched you carefully after he said it, looking for any signs that you wanted to challenge him, and when he didn’t see them, he felt the flowers bloom.

Coughing is absolutely normal for Tim. He’s handled the Operator’s influence for far longer than anyone should, which has been since his childhood. It’s just his body’s natural reaction to being poisoned all those years. But what wasn’t normal was when he started coughing up petals.

Oh how he hates the color pink now. Carnations. They’re pink carnations. He has no idea why they’re pink carnations as you have shown no type of fondness or specific admiration for the type of flower, but they smell so sweet and the color reminds him of you. He tries to smoke his cigarettes more and more in a vain attempt to smoke the roots that have taken hold in his lungs before they consume him in his entirety.

But he knows he won’t stop them, and that he won’t give into that surgery. What’s the use of living if you cannot have the feelings that come alongside it? All of the things that still make proxies human, life, death, love and birth - peace and war? Happiness when you laugh with friends, confusion, anger and somberness. It’s worth it. Every single part of it is worth it. He doesn’t want to lose the warm feelings he has to you either,

Even if it kills him.

It’s not like you haven’t noticed Tim coughing up pink carnations. The way the sparsely blood covered flowers find their ways into vases or in the trash have been greatly concerning you, and as far as you can tell, it’s not from Toby, Brian, or Kate. The only habitual cougher is Tim, and that makes you concerned.

You don’t know how to feel about Tim most days, but you know it’s something sweeter than what should be allowed as a proxy. You’re finally making your decision when you think you’ve almost lost him.

It’s a warm summer night when you finally come to terms with how you feel. You’ve just returned from some kind of ‘cooperation mission’ with Eyeless Jack and Jeff and you are more than exhausted after the mess you had to put up with.

“Anyone home?” You call out. From the kitchen, you can smell fresh pastries. Looks like Kate and Toby have been baking again. You follow the scent and see platters of brownies, cookies and other sweets laid out on the countertops with little sticky notes telling you to only take from the brownies - the rest are for other proxy groups and independents.

You’re just about to pluck one of the fresh brownies when you hear coughing. It’s soft at first, thick, but sounds like normal Tim coughing. You wonder if you should head over and see if there’s anything he needs. “Masky?” You call out again.

He coughs again. “What?” He sounds exhausted.

“Do you need some water?”

“No, I don’t-” he begins to cough violently, and you swear you can hear something falling to the floor as he does so. Tim rumbles around his room, crawling out of bed as he continues to violently cough and to the bathroom.

Worried, you exit the kitchen hastily to see what’s wrong just to see him slinking into the bathroom. “Masky? What’s going on?” You ask in a growing concerned tone, walking down the darkened hall to where the bathroom light shines from under the door.

And there you see it, flowers. Pink in color, carnations. They’re soft under your shoe as opposed to the hardwood. You feel the blood run cold in your veins. “Tim? Tim? Tim, you gotta open up please-” you rush out as you begin to pound on the door.

“Don’t you dare!” He snarls, pushing his weight against the door, still coughing. “I don’t need your hel-” he practically coughs up his lungs as he falls to the floor.

You panic. “Shit, shit, shit!” You cry out as you lean back in the hallway. “I’m coming in!” You know he can’t really hear you as he continues to hack out his lungs, but you kick the door in, bursting it from its hinges. You catch it and practically tear it out of the frame before shoving it back into the hall.

You widen your eyes upon seeing the state of Tim and immediately fall downwards, your hands sliding over his trembling form. There’s blood all over the sink, the mirror, even some of the sub and on the floor. The red drops leave trails down his mouth like snail trails. “Oh my gods,” you murmur as you rest his head on his lap, stopping his skull from knocking around on the tile floor.

“You shouldn’t-” he coughs more. “You shouldn’t be in here!” He’s not able to reprimand you because he’s practically puking up a bouquet.

“Nonsense,” you shrug off, trying to bring him comfort. “What the hell brought this on?” Your fingertips gently trace around his mouth and help claw the budding flowers out. You’ve never hated carnations so much until now.

Tim glares up at you before closing his eyes in pain, feeling the flowers cloud his lungs further. “It’s nothing-”

“Does this look like nothing?” You sound so cross, but it’s just because you’re so worried about him.

A long, pregnant pause passes between the two of you.

You continue to pull the blossoms from his mouth before looking over his form, seeing how his hand is slowly reaching up for yours. “Tim…”

“I know,” he whispers. “I’m sorry, I never meant for you to-”

You shake your head, your hand reaching out to hold his. You grip him before taking his hand warmly up to the side of your face, allowing him to caress your cheek. “Don’t.”

“But it’s true,” he barely manages to wisp out. “I never meant to throw this onto you,” he finishes before weakly coughing up more petals and full budding flowers. He can barely breathe now.

You sigh as you press his hand up to your cheek just a little firmer, letting him feel your warmth before you softly pull him back. “Open your palm, please,” you say softly as your free hand fishes out yet another bundle of carnations.

He weakly nods, closing his eyes and giving into his labored breathing as his lungs compete with the roots and sick blossoms for air.

You sigh once again, a small smile crossing onto your face before you plant a kiss on the center of his palm, remaining for just a moment before allowing him to pull away all on his own. “You always had me you idiot,” you whisper as you watch his fingers curl inwards, gripping the kiss that you had just planted.

Tim looks up at you, starry eyed before resting his hand on your cheek again.

The garden in his lungs begins to wilt.

[yoonieboonie]

The Substitute Lover (6)

word count: 2.5k

genre: fluff, angst hehe

pairing: myg x reader

summary: Finally meeting the college boy you’ve been eyeing on for months, everything goes wrong when you realise what you’re really getting yourself into.

a/n: this is part 6 !!! Thank you for the feedback from last chapter!  The vote for updates was split so I updated on the weekends and weekdays! :> If you can, please please please leave me a feedback after reading this chapter. :> Thank you!!!

NEXT | PREVIOUS

"Joonie, you promised." You groan into your phone. You are pacing back and forth in your apartment as you talk to Namjoon who decided to do a raincheck on your plans today. You were supposed to buy a gift for your Mom as her birthday was near. If you can't be there physically, you at least wanted to send something.

"I know, Y/N." he sighed on the other line. "I was pulled in by Mijin saying Mrs. Lee needs me for rehearsals. No one else in our batch can play flute but me." you can hear in his voice that he wasn't fond of the circumstances too, so you decided to let it go. You can just go alone.

"I contacted Hoba, he can take you."

You found yourself roaming the mall alone for a good hour when you receive a message, asking where you are. Assuming that it was Hoseok's new number, you respond with your location and saved it under the name "Hobi" as you pocketed it to continue your stroll.

You turn to a corner and your mouth opened to gape like a fish. Yoongi is walking towards you with his hands in his pockets. He finally reaches you as you close your mouth.

"I'm assuming Joon didn't tell you that I was coming?" He mused. I shook my head mutely.

"Does Eujin know about this?" you asked. You didn't mean to impose. Yoongi nodded his head. Why was he lying about something as simple as this?

He doesn't know. He doesn't even know why he said yes to this at all. All he knows is that he intends to enjoy today. He's having too much on his plate. You shrugged and cleared your throat.

"I want to buy a shark charm." you said, not looking at him.

"Shark?" he repeated. You put your hands together and placed it above your head as if to act like fins. "Sharks. Jaws. Fish are friends, not food?" you mused.

This made him smile to himself. You really are a peculiar one. "That's my favourite animal to exist, I'm giving that to my mom as something to remember me by."

He nods in understanding. He then leads you to what you assumed were a jewelry store. You trail behind him quietly. This was the start of your friendship and you didn't want to jinx it by doing or saying anything stupid.

You two walk around the store quietly. Charms of different sizes and figures displayed in a glass case, sparkling in the lights that illuminated the whole store. You try to focus on looking for the charm you intend to buy, momentarily forgetting about Yoongi.

You hear a throat cleared beside you and you turn thinking it was Yoongi, rushing you to hurry and pick already. To your surprise, you were faced with a handsome, handsome young man. Confused, you moved to the side, thinking that you may have blocked his way.

"Anything I can help you with, ma'am?" the man asked politely. You then realised that he was a clerk at the store. You feel heat creep up your cheeks just as you failed to answer immediately. You were too busy being flustered to even open your mouth.

Yoongi was quickly beside you, making you recollect yourself.

"I-I'm looking for a shark charm." You said, and awkwardly doing the fin thing you did for Yoongi earlier. The man in front of you chuckled heartily, revealing a dimple on his cheek. You found yourself blushing again.

Yoongi clicked his tongue in annoyance and lifted his hands to bring your "fins" down. Once your hands are back to your sides, he spoke up.

"He knows what a shark is, Y/N. You don't have to do the hands." You nod, and subtly glance at the nametag of the man in front of you that read "Jeongguk".

"Follow me, sir." Jeongguk paused for a while. "Ma’am." he warmly smiled again.

Jeongguk showed you all types of charms and pendants available in the store and in the end, you bought a bracelet charm. It was beautiful.

"Thank you, Jeongguk. My mother would love this, I'm sure." You thanked him one last time. He bowed slightly.

Yoongi was itching to leave and you are honestly sorry to take up so much of his time. So you both head to the exit but before you reach the door, you hear a soft "wait" behind you.

Yoongi was the one to turn first, and then you did. It was Jeongguk. You assumed you have forgotten something but he handed you a piece of paper.

"I wasn't going to since it was unethical," he explained. "But I don't want to have met you and not shoot my shot."

Yoongi snatched the piece of paper from Jeongguk before you could get it. Was he fucking invisible? What was this guy's deal?

"What's your deal, man? Don't you see that we came in together?" Yoongi asked, trying to stay calm.

"I didn't think you would mind, sir." Jeongguk explains. Yoongi shot a brow at this.

"The ring on your finger." Jeongguk answers. "She doesn't have one."

You try and keep a straight face and act unaffected with the statement. Before you can even reply, Yoongi was dragging you out of the mall and into the parking space, not even bothering to stop. He was pissed beyond words. Why was everyone endeared by you? This was a mystery to him.

And you? Blushing furiously at everything that boy said. He scoffed beside you, while you are still oblivious to why he got angry. You assumed it was because you inconvenienced him. You are already thinking of ways to apologise but you were busy not tripping. He wasn't as tall as Namjoon but he was relatively taller than you and you had to jog in order to catch up to his pace as he continue to drag you by your cardigan sleeve.

He was mumbling angrily as he dragged you to his car. You stayed quiet beside him, he must've felt humiliated to be with you. Had you not been with him, he wouldn't be mad right now.

"Yoongi." you call out. His head snapped to your direction. You cleared your throat awkwardly, and fixed your glasses.

"I'm sorry," you start. This made Yoongi's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "I should've just waited for Namjoon to be free and not have you come with me." you spoke up.

"Stop." He replied. "I told you before and I'm telling you now. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to."

You look up at him, you felt your entire emotions surge and you are fed up with everything Yoongi does and says. You sigh as you ran your hand through your hair.

"Yoongi, why are you here?” you asked. “Have you figured it out?” “Figured what out, Y/N?” He returned. Your mind flashed back to last week’s events.

You were on your way to Mr. Do, your professor’s office, when you heard a female voice that made you stop in your tracks. You start hiding at a corner while at the Business Administration building..

There you found Eujin and Mr. Do hugging tightly. You didn’t really know how to react. After all, it was just a hug. You would like to put a little faith into the love of Yoongi’s life. She would never do this to him, you thought. But when he attempted to kiss Eujin you were quick to react. With your small frame, you pushed the two away from each other. Your chest heaving with every breath that you took.

"Eujin. Mr. Do." You cleared your throat. This made them jump away from each other. Like a fire was lit and burned the two of them. "I-I will pretend to have not seen whatever this is" You start.

Mr. Do, as you addressed him to be, seemed to relax at your statement.. After all, he will not only lose his job but also his dignity once this gets out of the three of them.

"But" you continued. "This has to stop, please."

The way you begged confused the fuck out of Eujin. Why were you begging? Weren’t you supposed to be happy that you caught her and can finally be with Yoongi?

"Y-Yoongi. He loves you so much, Eujin." You faced Eujin who has no emotion in her face but shock. "Please don't hurt him, please." You continued to beg.

Unbeknownst to you, Hoseok followed you to the building for you have left your apartment keys on the chair you sat on. He watched the whole ordeal as you started to beg. He wanted to zoom into the picture and take you away. You were lowering yourself to beg for Yoongi? He was infuriated with whom? He no longer knows.

"Mr. Do, please know that if this continues, I will report to the Dean immediately." You threaten and with that, you grab Eujin's arm and drag her to the restroom nearby.

"Don't fucking touch me, Y/N." Eujin takes her arm back as soon as you both arrive at the restroom. She made sure no one was around when she turned to face you. You can see clear as day that she is terrified with what you saw. She didn't want to lose Yoongi.

"I-I won't tell." you promised as you fixed your glasses.

"Why not? Wouldn't that benefit you? You can finally have Yoongi." Her voice was shaky as she said this.

"I'm not selfish, Eujin. I want him to be happy." You smile. "So please, while you haven't done anything you'd regret yet, stop now. I can guarantee that I won't tell him." you urge.

She closed her eyes, ran her fingers through her hair and looked in the mirror. She was still shaken but better. Without saying a word, she turned and left.

You had no choice but to watch her figure leave.

“Nevermind. I can go home from here.” You fake a smile. You bowed your head and turned to leave. Yoongi has had enough of you leaving and grabbed your arm. The contact sending shivers down your spine. You were quick to remove his hand and something flashed in his eyes. It was gone before you could even decipher what it was. “I’ll take you home. You accept these offers from Hobi and Joon, why am I any different?” He was going to start dragging you but you spoke up again. “Yoongi. we're friends, right?" you asked, as you removed the paper bag of the charm from his hand.

"Of course, we are." He answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Then don't act more than that. I asked you to give me a chance and you didn't." you face him tiredly. "I had to endure seeing you with Eujin for months and you didn't hear anything from me. The least you can do to is to not confuse me with all these halfass comments. I like you but I will never be a substitute lover."

With that, you turned to leave. Everything is crashing down on you. With the stress of having to hide what you saw, to your studies, and now with Yoongi confusing the fuck out of you. You just cannot catch a break.

Yoongi was too shocked to react, he wanted to follow you but what would he say to actually appease you? You were right, after all. Spending time with you honestly confused his feelings for Eujin. Hoseok and Namjoon knew this but didn't say anything. They took matters into their own hands and set you two up.

You sat at a bus stop as you rummage through your bag for your phone. Dialing Namjoon's number, he picked up after a few rings.

"Y/N?" He had a teasing tilt to his voice. "How was it?" As you expected, he wasn't in practice as it was quiet around him. You sigh into the receiver.

"W-What do you t-take me for, Namjoon?" You try to make your voice as stable as you can but it cracked in the end. The humiliation and exhaustion with the whole narrative is making your head spin.

"Did something happen, Y/N? What did Yoongi do?!" He grew alarmed as you cried. You heard shuffling as another voice spoke into the phone.

"Y/N? Are you alright? Where are you, I'll pick you up." Hoseok spoke.

"You were in this too?" You gritted your teeth. Anger and disappontment bubbled in your stomach, no matter how you tried to push it back down, trying to be rational.

"I am not a toy for your trio to play with." You finally spoke coldly. "I have feelings too. I'm not a charity case, Hoseok."

Hoseok winced at the lack of nickname and familiarity to your tone. He and Namjoon only wanted to make you happy, hence the setup of the date.

"Please, I'll pick you up." Hoseok sounds panicked already. "Y/N, love, tell me where you are." On his side, Namjoon watched shocked with how he addressed you. Hoseok was shocked too.

"Don't bother showing your face to me," You breathed. "I don't want anything to do with the three of you.” You were about to drop the call as a bus approached the station but you stopped as soon as Hoseok spoke again. “I saw you last week, Y/N.” You didn’t reply. You both knew what he was talking about. “It was none of your business. That was up to Eujin and Yoongi to fix—“ “Come on, Y/N! Do you hear yourself? She was cheating on him and you know it.” His voice was cold, you barely recognized it. “Even if Eujin did cheat on Yoongi, even if they break up,” You pause. “It still wouldn’t be me. Yoongi will never choose me.” “And how sure are you of that?” A voice spoke but it was not Hoseok. You glanced to your right and saw Yoongi who must’ve followed you. He was panting as his chest heaved up and down. He ran. The bus finally stopped in front of you. You gave him a final look. Yoongi’s eyes were begging you to not get in. But you did. ------------------------------------

NEXT | PREVIOUS