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adorerdraco · 4 years ago

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Healing Heart ✧ Draco x Reader Mini-Series PART 1

Summary: Draco meets and accidentally falls in love with reader during his sixth year (HBP). Part 1 of a upcoming series.

Warnings: angst, some fluff, mentions of blood, crying, panic attacks

Words: 6.4K words (I made this so longgg)

A/N: my first Draco writing !!! i am sorry ahead of time if there are any misspellings, typing with long acrylics is hard omg. ALSO PLEASE FEEL FREE TO SEND ME REQUESTS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! also i do not own this gif.

It was almost satirical how Draco managed to fall in love with someone at what might be, is, the lowest point in his life. It was his sixth year at Hogwarts, the dark mark burned into his left forearm, the restless mending of the vanishing cabinet, the impossible task of killing his Headmaster, the Dark Lord looming over him and his family with promises of torture and death if he didn’t follow through with the orders he was given.

Draco was an empty shell of what he used to be. The playful and mean remarks that would leave his mouth to anyone that stood in his path were gone. The devious twinkle in his eye and the smug smirk that used to grace his face almost 24/7 was reduced to a permanent scowl and red-rimmed eyes. He looked as if he had aged a rough 10 years since the last year he was at school. Everyone noticed it.

Everyone noticed the skipped meals, the lack of sleep, the empty look in his eyes, the falling behind in class. But no one dared say a thing to him. It almost seems as though people were afraid of him now more than ever. The sneer on his face and the reckless and impulsive attitude he held now was like a repellent for anyone that tried to come near. He was completely alone, whether he liked it or not and he decided to keep it that way.

That all changed a few months into the year, however, when you were rushing to DADA, your long house colored scarf getting tangled underneath your feet causing you to trip and lurch forward, dropping all your books, your wand, and crashing into, you guessed it, Draco Malfoy himself. There was a loud cracking sound as you both tumbled onto the ground, a yelp slipping past Draco’s lips as he held his hand in pain.

"Oh, Merlin,” you gasped, Draco shooting you the dirtiest glare. “Draco, I’m so sorry.”

Before he could open his mouth to tell you off and incessantly insult you into oblivion, you reached forward and took his wounded hand in yours, the softness of your hands and tender touch throwing him off guard. He watched you as you examined the damage on one of his fingers.

“It’s just a sprain,” you finalized after inspecting it for a couple seconds. Draco recoiled his hand from yours as if he had touched a hot surface. He moved to get up and you huffed out a “wait, hold on,” as you scrambled around the ground for your wand. When you felt the wood underneath your fingertips, you clutched it and jumped to your feet, gently grabbing onto the sleeve of Draco’s robe who was already trying to retreat.

“Get away,” he snarled, snatching his arm out of your grasp.

“Let me help,” you pleaded softly, “it’ll be quick, I promise.”

Draco looked down at you with annoyance. He was about to leave again until he felt that same tender touch from just a few moments ago. The feeling stunning him again as he looked down at his hand that was now lying palm up in yours.

“Episkey,” you drawled the wand over his injured finger, the both of you watching the swollen and purple bruise beginning to form suddenly fade away.

Draco gave you one last scowl before he snatched his hand out of yours and turned around to leave the corridor, leaving you standing there dumbfounded as he quickly walked away, his cloak floating behind him like the professor, who’s class you now realized you were very late for.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

That night, Draco lied awake staring at his ceiling he had charmed to resemble a starry night sky. His mind wandered off to think about spells he could try to help fix the vanishing cabinet and different ways he could kill Dumbledore without actually having to face him. He thought of his parents, mostly his mom, and how much he wishes he could save her and himself from this life. He thought of this school and how much he missed being an unknowing child who just did his schoolwork, played quidditch and bully the Golden Trio. He missed the two-dimensional life he used to live. Even if he used to be a complete ignorant and snobby arse, he was a happy one at that. Only now he knows that life isn’t what mummy or daddy say it is, in fact, it is so much worse.

He found his mind wandering to his uneventful day of dragging himself through his classes and failed attempts on the cabinet in the room of requirement. He then all of a sudden remembered the klutzy y/h/c girl that tripped into him and sprained his finger. He remembered how soft her touch was and how gentle she was in fixing said finger. That feeling was hard to forget. He hasn’t felt such tenderness since he doesn’t know how long. He recalled his mother’s hug before he boarded the train to Hogwarts, but that was ages ago.

In his ever growing turmoil, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in Draco’s life since he’s returned to school. The coldness he was feeling on the inside was just as apparent as it was in his surroundings. He catches himself wishing he could feel that touch again, something about you radiated warmth, and just as quick as that thought appeared, he pushed it away.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The next day, as Draco was leaving the room of requirement and into the empty corridor, he felt the familiar ache in his chest that began to flow through his body. He had made little to no progress today on the cabinet. He felt a panic attack on the horizon, his breathing becoming staggered and tears pricking his eyes. He hated it. He hated feeling so weak.

He began rushing towards Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, his tears blurring his vision and just like the day before, he crashed right into someone. Instinctively, he held the other person in place by their biceps so neither of them would fall. But that still didn’t stop how upon impact, the other person’s head had collided with his bottom lip. He squeezed his eyes in pain as he felt the skin break and blood quickly escaping it. When he pulled back, he focused on the figure in front of him and realized it was you. The same klutzy girl he bumped into yesterday.

“Oh no, not again,” you frown, placing your hand on the part of your head that met Draco’s lip.

“You ought to watch where you’re going, you twit,” he snarls, stepping away from you in anger.

“It was an accident,” you responded just as harshly. You take a deep breath and throw the attitude aside. He was bleeding for Merlin’s sake and you felt bad that it was because of you. “I’m sorry, please let me heal you again,” you offer, taking a step towards him, closing up the space he had made.

“I think you’ve done enough,” he backs up, eyeing you down.

“Draco, please, just let me heal your lip and i’ll be out of your way,” you ask again, your soft and guilt ridden e/c eyes peering up at him through your lashes. Draco’s heart flutters, his anger subsiding for a second and he nods.

You step towards him once more and unexpectedly place a warm hand on his face while the other brings your wand up to his lip where it hovers. It was a non-verbal spell you used this time and he felt the pulsating pain in his lip subside to nothing.

Even though he was healed, you both stayed in that position, your hand still on his cheek and his eyes gazing into yours. He didn’t realize it at that moment, but the pain in chest had also subsided, just a little. The tears had gone. His breathing was drastically slower.

“What’s your name?” the question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. You gave him a small smile, your hand falling from his face and he frowns when he feels the cold on his skin from the loss of contact.

“It’s Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N” you answer. “We have potions together this year, actually.”

Draco thought back to that class, now that Slughorn was teaching it he hardly paid attention, especially since he felt he was skilled in it anyways so he would let himself slip into his thoughts and let the whole period pass by in a haze. He feels as though he might have heard your name here and there, but he wasn’t so sure.

“Hm, funny, I’ve never noticed you,” he says, not intending it to sound rude but it did. He watches your face fall and he feels a slight guilt poke at him.

“Well, like I said, I’ll be out of your way now,” you mumble to him, brushing past him softly as you continued your path out of the corridor and out of his sight.

He didn’t know why, but he felt a little sad to see you go. He shook his head, shaking the thought from his mind and instead of the bathroom, he decided to go to his room, no longer feeling like he did before your little encounter.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

As days went on, Draco ended up paying more attention in Slughorn’s class. Not to the chubby old professor, but to you, who he shared subtle glances with throughout classes and half-hearted smiles.

You wanted nothing more than to continue talking to him. To be in his presence. He was like a magnet to you, while everyone else thought the opposite of him. Even Pansy, who usually was up his ass, distanced herself from the ghost of the boy she once obsessed over. You couldn’t lie, the small crush you harbored on Draco had only grown more and more each day. It started about three years ago, during your third year when you had seen him in the hospital wing after his run-in with Buckbeak.

You remember the sheer shock you felt when you had seen him for the first time that year. The slicked back hair was gone, he had grown several inches taller, maybe even a foot taller now that you thought about it. His voice had deepened into that haughty tone you somehow couldn’t get enough of. But just like you, many other girls noticed these changes too and began pursuing him. Something you’d never had the guts to do.

Until now.

The feelings you had been suppressing for the past 3 years had come back in overflow the second you bumped into him the other day. Even worse this time since you’ve actually had a conversation with him now and the fact that he won’t stop looking at you.

Slughorn pulled you out of your thoughts when he announced to everyone to partner up to brew the potion he had been lecturing us on all week. Draught of Peace.

“This is your chance,” your friend besides you sings to you as you looked longingly in Draco’s direction who hasn’t moved from his spot.

“No, he usually works by himself, I don’t want to bother him anymore than I have,” you sigh, slumping down in your seat.

“Y/N, you’ve been in love with him since third year,” she huffs, “besides, maybe he only works alone because no one can stand being near him.”

“Shhh, someone might hear you,” you hiss, slumping even lower into your seat. “I am not in love with him, it’s just a stupid crush,” you whisper angrily to her while she only rolls her eyes.

“Okay, well, have fun working alone,” she smirks, getting up from her seat and scurrying across the room to join another classmate. You gape at her in distress, she returns the same gesture, mocking you. She then points over to Draco and smiles, giving you an encouraging thumbs up.

You rest your head in your hand for a second, feeling the hot blush that had made its way onto your face and focused your gaze onto the table in front of you. You mentally hexed your friend, who thought it’d be a good idea if she were ditch you so you would be forced to look for another partner. Jokes on her, you’re not getting up from this seat.

‘I can’t go up to him,” you thought, ‘he probably thinks I’m some annoying creep who won’t leave him alone. I’ll just work by myself.”

Draco looks over at you, noticing the empty space beside you and the frown on your face as you pushed your Potions book to the side and sat up to get your cauldron ready. You were alone, and so was he. He fought himself on whether or not he should join you. It was a bold move, especially for him. He was used to working alone, but the longer he looked at you, the more he found himself missing the sound of your honey sweet voice and soft eyes. Before he had any more time to argue with himself about it, he gathered up all his things and walked over to the empty spot next to you.

“Do you want help?” Draco asked awkwardly, immediately regretting his decision to move. Your eyes shot up from the potion book, not expecting to see the blond next to you with a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Um, yes, actually, that’d be nice,” you mutter out to him, moving some stuff around on the table so that he would have space for his. You could hardly contain the deep red blush that was already on your face from intensifying at his presence. You swallowed thickly as the realization set in that your longtime crush was right beside you and even offering a helping hand. Which in Draco’s case was extremely rare, almost unheard of. Matter of fact, this is something the Slytherin Prince has never done.

He sets his bag down and his supplies and takes a seat, rolling up his sleeves so that he could get started on crushing the porcupine quills into the moonstone powder. The amount of times he has made this potion by now for himself was sad, but good in this case since he would be able to impress you with his skill.

He worked diligently and quietly and you watched as his long slender fingers worked everything with attention and precision. You were looking up at him every now and then which you now realized was a terrible idea considering you were in the middle of cutting ginger root and you weren’t exactly coordinated to begin with. You felt the sharp blade slide across your finger and a small gasp left your mouth when the pain instantly began once the first drop of blood fell.

Draco looked at you in confusion, his eyes widening slightly when he saw the blood dripping from your hand and your face contorted in pain. You ignored the looks Draco was giving you, afraid that he might be looking at you with contempt for being sloppy.

“Y/L/N, perhaps you should go to Madam Pomfrey,” Draco suggests, now seeing that the cut was very deep as you inspected it. In fact, it was so deep he swore he could’ve seen bone.

“No, it’s fine, I can heal it,” you ignored the sharp pain and placed your hand on the table and pointed your wand at the cut with your uninjured hand. You focused on the cut and closed your eyes, letting your wand do its magic with your unspoken spell. When you opened your eyes, the cut was gone, just a small scar in its place and drying blood around it. “You see,” you smile, turning towards Draco and waving your finger, “brand new.”

“You don’t want dittany for the scarring?” Draco asked with an eyebrow raised.

“No, I don’t mind them and this one is small anyways. They’re like memories to me. Some come from good experiences, some bad. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m a little clumsy,” you explain, a small smile on your lips.

“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” he sighs, “so you’ve managed to become your own healer because of that?”

“Exactly that,” you hummed. “That’s actually what I’m studying to be. I plan on being at St. Mungo’s once we graduate. I’ve been studying for it my whole life.”

Draco was silent for a moment. He watched as you carefully threw ingredients into the cauldron and stirred them with caution. He noticed that despite your clumsiness, you handled everything you touched with a care and gentleness. It was a calming sight to him for some reason and he faintly smiled.

“I think you’d be a great healer,” he complimented quietly. You looked at him with one of the brightest smiles he’s ever seen and his heart swells at the thought of it being because of him. He feels a smile mirroring yours that tries to break through, but he fights it.

“You know, you’re a lot nicer than you let on,” you say quietly, waiting for his reaction from the corner of his eye. Draco wants to give you a snarky remark, just to uphold his cold reputation he’s given himself since his first day back at Hogwarts, but he doesn’t.

Instead of saying anything, he just shrugged and gave you a small smile, turning his attention back to the task at hand. You do the same, choosing to enjoy the comfortable silence that had settled.

When Slughorn came by to check when you finished, he eyed you and Draco and smiled.

"Ahh, Mr. Malfoy, I’m glad you’ve finally decided to partner up with someone,” he gleamed. “Miss Y/L/N here is an excellent potions student such as yourself.”

“Yes, she is,” Draco responded, keeping his eyes trained on the professor. He didn’t want to look at you, feeling embarrassed that he has now complimented you twice in the last 20 minutes. You smiled to yourself, something you’ve been doing a lot of since the slytherin boy sat next to you.

“Well, I suppose you’ll be pleased to know the two of you have brewed an outstanding potion,” Slughorn grins, “both of you will receive perfect marks on this. You can be excused from today’s class now.”

“Thank you, Professor,” you begin gathering your things and turn towards Draco. “I’ll see you next class? Or maybe somewhere around the castle when I accidentally bump into you.”

Draco chuckles and shakes his head, “perhaps. I’ll see you soon, Y/L/N.”

With that, he strides out of the class, you staring at the back of his platinum blond head with a stupid smile on your face.

“You’re welcome,” your friend suddenly appeared next to you, playfully slapping your arm. “I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen Draco look so... calm.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Weeks had gone by, and several Potions classes. The seat beside you now belonged to Draco and the two of you had in a sense, become friends. Or acquaintances. You couldn’t quite say.

He was still brooding and mostly kept to himself, but he would converse with you here and there about things, almost always school. The two of you continuously getting outstanding marks on everything you produced much to Slughorn’s delight.

Sometimes he would come to class looking disheveled or angry and those were the days where no matter how much you tried to talk to him to at least maybe get his mind off things, he would ignore you. Wouldn’t even look at you. You couldn’t deny how it had hurt your feelings, but you would brush off the hurt and remind yourself that it wasn’t personal. He was obviously going through something, you didn’t know what, but you had to respect that sometimes he just didn’t want to talk. That was hard. Especially because you just wanted to hear his voice or see him give you that rare smile when you would say something he found amusing or you would accidentally drop something off the table with your elbows or knocked over with your hands.

You were rounding a corridor when you saw the flash of blond zoom past you. He didn’t see you, but you saw the pointed look in his eyes and the tears that were pooling in the stormy gray eyes that you adored. You mentally fought yourself on whether or not you should follow him, he looked so upset and all you wanted to do was give him a peace of mind. So you followed him, all through two corridors until he disappeared into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

Your heart broke at the sobs that filled the bathroom. They were full of pain and despair. The sound of his rapid breathing mixed in with his cries was more than enough to let you know that he was having a panic attack. You pushed open the door slightly to see him hunched over a sink, his robe discarded on the ground along with his vest and tie leaving him in only a white long sleeved dress shirt.

You wanted to run in and help, but stayed back, realizing that this was something that was extremely personal. You knew he would be livid if you or anyone saw him like this, so broken and emotional. You were about to leave, all of a sudden feeling very ashamed for even following him in here. You watched as he looked up into the mirror, an anger flashing in his eyes as he stared at the reflection looking back at him. Not yours, but his. All he could see was a monster staring back at him. A failure. A weak man. He was disgusted and angry with what he saw and before he knew what he was doing, he had pulled his fist back and you watched it collide with the middle of the mirror where he had been. The glass shattered upon impact, the shards now flying in all different directions and embedding into his knuckles. He fell to the ground on his knees, in pain and clutching his fist as his cries only got louder.

That was when you threw open the door, rushing in to help him, not caring that you were going to have to put up a fight in order to even get near him. Draco’s eyes shot up to meet yours, and just like you thought, he was beyond pissed to see you.

Draco has never felt such humiliation in his life. The beautiful and kind y/h girl he had acquainted himself with, was now looking at him with pity. He grabbed his wand from his pocket, pointing it at you with such quickness that you faltered in your steps.

“Get. Out!” He yelled, his wand shaking violently in his uninjured hand. He would never hex you, but he figured you would fall for his bluff and leave. But you didn’t. You only sat yourself down a few feet away from him and felt your own tears begin to fall. “Y/L/N, I swear to Merlin, if you don’t leave, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” you challenged. “I just want to help.”

“I don’t need your help,” he sneered, his wand still pointed at you.

“You’re bleeding, a lot, Draco,” you point to his bloodied hand that curled to his chest. “You know I can save you a trip to the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey’s interrogation.”

After a few moments of silence and a wand still pointed at you, you slowly scoot towards him. Your hand encloses around the one holding his wand and you lower it for him while he watches you. He was still crying and breathing heavily. His panic attack somehow getting worse now and no longer having the energy to fight you. You finally reach him, now knee to knee with him and you place a hand on his shoulder.

“Draco, just breath with me,” you say calmly. “In,” you took a long exaggerated inhale, and after a few seconds, “out,” and let out an equally exaggerated exhale. You did that with him for a while, his pained gray eyes focused on yours the whole time, never breaking eye contact. Once he was calmed down enough and was just left with the post crying hiccoughs, you took his injured hand in yours. There was shards and particles of glass stuck in his reddened and bloody skin.

You reached into your robe pocket and pulled out a set of tweezers you kept with you. You often found yourself getting splinters or tiny rocks stuck in your skin when your hands hit the pavement when you’d fall you try and catch yourself.

“This might hurt,” you warn, starting to remove one of the biggest pieces. He sharply inhales as you try your best to do take it out carefully.

It was quiet the rest of the process, just sniffles and gasps from Draco when you had removed a piece that especially hurt. When you were done, you waved your wand over the gashes and watched as they faded into faint pink scars. You got up, pulling him with you and took him to the sink where you rinsed off the blood from both your hands and his.

He couldn’t say anything. He didn’t know what. He just stared at you, dumbfounded and confused. You turned your body to face his and he did the same, eyeing you carefully and still very cautious to any move you made.

“I can leave now, if you’d like me to,” you offer quietly. He stayed silent, wondering if he should just send you off. But he didn’t want to. You had already seen him at his worst, and he was terribly alone, so he just shook his head ‘no.’ You looked up at him and decided to risk it all. “Can I give you a hug?”

Draco was stunned at the question, his heart pounding against his chest. “I suppose,” he managed to let out in a strained voice.

You slowly stepped closer to him and slid your arms up his biceps until your hands met behind his neck. You stood on your tippy toes and pulled him into you, his chin now resting on your shoulder as your hand smoothed the back of his head. You felt him stiff under your touch and as he got comfortable in your embrace, his arms raised from his sides and snaked around your waist, pushing you flush against him. You stayed like that for what felt like forever, and he held you tightly, not wanting to let go.

This was the first time in a long time that he had felt any type of relief. It had been such a constant uphill battle for him, day after day. He took a deep inhale accidentally, but the smell of your perfume and shampoo filling his nose and his mind made him feel at ease. The warmth of your body from underneath his fingertips brought him peace and succor.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair so quietly that if you weren’t so focused on him, you would’ve missed it.

“Anytime.”

That was the day Draco Malfoy became your friend.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Potions class was no longer the only place you would see Draco. Now that the two of you were comfortable with one another and he trusted you more than anyone else, he found himself hanging out with you every day during his free time when he would be done messing with the cabinet.

It would be taking walks around the castle. Sneaking out at night and meeting behind statues to talk. Sitting together at a bench in the courtyard. Skipping stones along the Black Lake. It’s been months of this. Months of friendship he so desperately needed. You had helped him through several more panic attacks and meltdowns, each time coming closer together. He never told you about what caused them. The worst ones were when he found he had almost killed Katie Bell and Ron Weasley, and as much as you begged him to tell you, he kept his mouth shut.

He had spent so much time with you that it was affecting him. But for the better. He found himself eating again at the Slytherin table and his friends were more than excited to have him back. He still wasn’t too buddy-buddy with everyone as he once was, but he joined conversations and shared a couple jokes. He was even sleeping a little more. He was still beyond stressed, but it wasn’t as gut-wrenching. He enjoyed Potions again and even started paying a little more attention in his other classes. His new found energy even helped him greatly progress in mending the vanishing cabinet, finally making a breakthrough in fixing it.

He would lie awake at night sometimes and thank Merlin you crashed into his life, literally. You were like an angel to him, healing his heart with every word and smile and touch you sent his way. It was easy with you. He tried his best to keep his emotions at bay, reminding himself that when he would have to follow through with his task, he would lose you and that thought pained him to no end. But he was selfish, and he adored you with every fiber of his being so he couldn’t leave you alone. And especially not when he needed you most.

Today, you lied in the grass, shoulder to shoulder and staring up at the sky and watching the clouds. You were a little ways from the castle, away from all your other classmates and teachers and it was nice. Finally being able to enjoy time with the Slytherin Prince without people gawking at the two of you.

“My mother used to do this with me when I was a small,” Draco trailed off, his eyes following a particular funny shaped cloud. “She would take me out to the garden behind the Manor, usually when father was doing some work at the ministry. But we would sit against this tall oak tree and I’d be on her lap and she’d have her arms wrapped around me and she would point out the funniest shaped clouds and try to pinpoint what they resemble. Sometimes she’d even joke around and say the weirdest shaped cloud looked like father.”

You giggled at that last part, your heart swelling at the story. He rarely talked about his family, but when he did, it would always be of his mother and a happy memory he had with her, never his father.

“Draco, can I ask you something?” you turn onto your side, your elbow holding you up as you gazed down at him.

“What do you wanna know, darling?” you blushed at the nickname but brushed it aside, knowing he only meant it in a friendly way.

“Forgive me if it’s rude, you don’t have to answer,” you begin, “but do you miss your father? I know it’s none of my business and I’m so sorry the Daily Prophet put your family business on blast like that. I can’t imagine how that must have felt.”

Draco frowned and followed you in turning onto his side and propping himself up with his elbow to face you. You remembered the image of Draco and his mother on the newspaper, bright lights flashing across their faces as all the press tried to get picture of them after the sentencing of Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban. You remembered seeing Draco look so sad, yet strong beside his mother as he looked from her and then into the camera with disdain.

“Sometimes, I do,” he answers, eyebrows furrowed as he thought of his father. “My whole life, he’s expected nothing short of perfection from me. There were no room for mistakes, and if I made any, I would be punished for them. I remember coming to Hogwarts was like an escape, a place where I could finally sort of relax and be a child. I don’t miss his scolding or his coldness. But I miss having a father, I miss going home on that first day of summer and seeing both my parents even if he was going to reprimand me for something later on in the day. He’s been with me my whole life, and now he’s gone, stuck in a cell in Azkaban. He’s never going to be the same. Home is never going to be the same.”

You felt tears prick your eyes as you listened to the boy beside you, a distant look in his eyes as he turned back over on his back to look at the sky in the middle of his explanation. You sat up and he did the same, looking at you with a frown when he noticed you were about to cry. You took your hand in his and held it tightly.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” you mumble. “You don’t deserve any of the bad things you’ve been through.”

“I do,” he shrugs. “I’ve been a real git since I’ve been at Hogwarts, you know.”

“You’re different now,” you say. “Sure, you still haven’t lost a little bit of the Malfoy snobbishness and you’re still a bit of a git, but you’re kinder and more gentle. You’re a lot more empathetic and perceptive. I mean, I’ve never spoken to you prior to this year, but your reputation follows and the Draco in front of me doesn’t seem anything like the Draco you were.”

“How you’ve managed to insult me while complimenting me is something I’ve never seen anyone be able to do successfully is astonishing,” he laughs, a smile growing on his face as you laughed with him.

“I’m serious, Dray,” you giggle, “I think you’re a good person.”

“I’m not good,” he thinks to himself. The compliment leaving your lips made him feel foul. He didn’t deserve to have such a kind soul complimenting him to be something he’d never amount to. He frowned and harshly stood up, and you quickly followed. Suddenly afraid that you might have overstepped your boundaries.

“Where are you going?” You ask, fear trembling in your voice. He begins to hurriedly walk off and you chase after him, stopping in front of him so you could place your hands on his chest to stop him.

“Y/N, let me go,” he pleads. “I’m not who you think I am.”

“I think I’ve been around you long enough to know who you are.”

“Not long enough.”

You stare up at him, but he refuses to look at you. His body feels rigid under your touch and it pains you to see him beginning to shut down again.

“I know something has been bothering you this year, and I know it’s not just because of what happened with your father,” you start. “I don’t know what is hurting you so deeply enough to make you hate yourself, but I’m here to tell you that whatever that thing is, it doesn’t define you.”

Draco swallows thickly, the tears already falling down his cheeks. “It does, it does.”

“No, it doesn’t,” you cry with him. “Even if you don’t see your goodness, I do.”

Both you and Draco are crying, the tree you were now standing under was swaying violently in the wind, as if it was picking up on your guys’ emotions. You placed a hand on his cheek, and he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I’m not good,” he whispers to you, “and once you see that, you’re going to hate me.”

“I could never hate you, Draco Malfoy,” you promise, a complete sincerity in your voice that it makes his heart jump.

Draco lifts his head up and sniffles, he watched you do the same, peering up at him through your wet lashes. He brought his thumb up to smooth the crease in between your eyebrows, letting it fall down to your cheeks where he wiped away the stray tears that had stilled. His hand then landed on your mouth that was pulled down in a grimace that matched his own. His thumb grazed over your lips, the softness of them nearly driving him mad. He wanted nothing more than to feel them against his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to kiss you. He didn’t want to drag you into the darkness of his life more than he already has.

“Kiss me,” you said to him, so softly but it rang loud in his ears. You had seen the way he looked at you and how he seemed so focused on your lips. You knew what he was thinking because it was exactly what you were thinking. You wanted this just as badly as he did. “Kiss me.”

Every argument he had in his head vanished and suddenly he closed the small space between the two of you and gently placed his lips onto yours. It was a fluid movement, like two puzzle pieces fitting together.

Your hands found their way in his hair, holding him closer to you and he did the same by gripping onto your hips. His lips were soft against yours, filled with fervor and desire. He was gentle with you, but you could still feel the deepness of his kiss and how it intensified with each second. He had put all his emotions into it, his care, his appreciation, his want, his sadness, his grief, his love.

When he pulled away and the two of you stood there staring at each other with love stricken eyes, he realized he had made a grave mistake.

He realized he was in love with you. He realized that he would never be able to let you go, and you would never let him go. And he knew that with the direction his life was going in, one way or another, you would get hurt and he would lose you, maybe even to death itself.

So in that moment he knew. As much as he loved you and wanted more than anything to be with you, he couldn’t put you in that position where you would be staring evil and death in the face. He wouldn’t tarnish your beautiful soul like that.

“I have to go,” he breathed out. “Please, leave me alone. For good.”

And with that he turned away, leaving you standing under the tree with tears falling down your face, a sob escaping your throat and the sound of your knees hitting the grass below you. He held back his own cries and walked faster away from you, knowing you had finally done damage to yourself that you couldn’t heal, and it was all his fault.

PART 2

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twotapbuz · 4 years ago

Text

This fic was inspired by this post by @swampythesweetsketch. I’ll post the fics for the rest of 1010 as soon as I finish them.

You were hired to be a personal bodyguard for Eloni

Along with the standard supplies(1010-themed uniform, flashlight, pepper spray, body camera), you were given a watch that would alert you to Eloni’s location whenever he was in trouble

This along with the job wouldn’t be out of the ordinary if it weren’t for the fact that neither of the other members of 1010 had personal bodyguards

You would soon learn why after your fourth concert

You had been approached by two lost fans that were looking for the meet & greet table when your watch suddenly began to beep rapidly. “Eloni must be in trouble,” you thought as you excused yourself from the duo and quickly hurried to the idol’s location. Eloni had somehow gotten to an alley near the venue. You weren’t really sure what to expect. Had a fan tried to kidnap him? You had heard stories from other security staff about crazy fangirls trying to take them or at least pieces of them. You reached the alley and found Eloni being hoisted by a group.

“Freeze!” you said while holding up your pepper spray. This diverted the group and they looked at you. “Drop the robot, now.”

“And if we don’t?” mockingly replied one of the “fans”.

“I’ll send this video to Neon J and have you banned from any future 1010 events.” you tapped your body camera. The threat of not seeing “the loves of their lives” caused the group to practically drop Eloni and they all scattered.

“Thank you.” Eloni got up. “You’re the first guard to catch them before they threw me into the trash”

“No problem, just stay away from alleyways.” you began to write an email, informing Neon J that Eloni had been safely retrieved. “ We wouldn’t want to-wait... the trash?” you stopped and looked up at him.

“Yeah, they usually throw me into the trash. One time I got thrown into a nearby pond.” Eloni admitted, embarrassed.

“And how often does this happen?”

“Around every other concert.” Eloni began to lean on the alley wall

“Yeesh, no wonder Eloni needs a personal guard,” you thought. “Wow. I knew the fans were a bit crazy, but I didn’t think they would go this far.” you tried to pick out your words carefully, trying and failing to not upset the robot.

“I just don’t understand why they hate me so much?” Tears began to fall down Eloni’s face. you froze, unsure what to do, before moving to comfort him.

“Hey, I’m um really sorry about what’s happening to you… if you want, I could maybe give you some advice?”

“Really?”

“Yeah” you looked at your watch. “We should head back to the venue, Neon J is worried about you.” Eloni wiped the tears off his face and began to walk beside you

“I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“It’s not a problem.”

You unofficially become Eloni’s PR Manager:

After that moment, you would help Eloni with his image before every event(it was the only time you would see each other as you had no reason to be near Barraca Mansion, and giving Eloni your phone number would be unprofessional).

“You’re supposed to be the funny guy of the group, right?” Eloni nodded. “Well, give me a joke. Let’s see what you got.”

“Ok. What did the fish say when he swam into a wall? Dam.” Eloni shot finger guns at you. You stared at him. “Why do fish live in saltwater? Pepperwater makes them sneeze!” Eloni said, less confident.

“...I see. In the nicest way I can say this, you need new material, Eloni.”

“What? But I spent hours researching jokes on the internet!”

“That’s the problem. Everybody has heard of these jokes. If you want to be funny, you gotta be original. Here.” you handed Eloni a piece of paper. “There’s this restaurant in Dream Cast called The Mind Palace that hosts comedy hours every Saturday at 7 pm. I was going to go, but something came up, so you can have my ticket.”

“Really? Thanks!” Eloni smiled

-----------

“So, how was the show?” It was the Monday after the show and you were curious to hear Eloni’s new material.

“It was great! They’re definitely gonna love my new material!” Eloni pulled out his phone and began to show you a video. It was 1010 doing a tour around Vinyl City. Eloni paused the video and pointed at himself. He was dabbing. Between the Eloni in the video dabbing and real-life Eloni looking so proud, you couldn’t help but chuckle and this adorably dorky display. Eloni liked your laugh.

While the new material definitely got Eloni some fans, it still wasn’t enough. So you began to inquire about some of his hobbies

“Another way to get people to like you is to seem relatable. Do you have any hobbies?” You asked

“I bake in my spare time”

“Perfect! We can make a YouTube account and post some of your recipes there. Cooking channels are very popular, I even follow some myself.”

Your advice ends up working and Eloni begins to have his own fan club

He’s given the same love that his brothers are.

You’d think this would be the end of your job, afterall, you were hired to keep Eloni safe from angry fans, but now they all love him.

Instead, the lack of necessity for your job is strangely never brought up by Neon J and you continue business as usual.

You’ve got a crush on Eloni:

You recognize that you’ve got a crush immediately

Ever since Eloni became popular, the two of you’ve had fewer opportunities to talk to each other as he was constantly approached by fans

Having to stand by and watch Eloni be constantly flirted with made it pretty easy to realize your feelings

You decide to ignore these feelings

After all, your relationship was purely professional

Ok maybe all those times you accompanied him all over Vinyl City were just excuses to hang out, but still, your relationship was professional

And his number was saved in your personal phone and you two often texted each other

Even if your relationship was more than professional, Eloni had a lot more choices than you and you didn’t want to ruin what you had

Eloni realizes he’s got a crush:

It first started when he saw a stage technician flirting with you. Eloni got annoyed by this, but he didn’t know why.

It took a while for Eloni to realize his feelings. He at first mistook his crush as just being glad that you were his friend

Eloni also began to think about you a lot. Not just about your advice, but he also began to be reminded of you wherever he went.

It wasn’t until the middle of a baking stream that he realized that he had a crush on you

Eloni tries to flirt with you:

Attempt #1, the 1010 style:

Eloni decided to make his move.

“Hey, Y/N!” You turned around to face the green robot. “Have you thought of joining 1010? Cause you're definitely a ten out of ten.”

“That was a really good one! You should definitely use that during the concert.” You replied, unable to tell the difference between Eloni asking if his lines were good and him flirting with you. Eloni hid his disappointment, but I guess that’s what happens when you use someone as practice for your pickup lines.

Attempt #2, the sweet way:

Eloni decided to take a more “traditional” route by giving you a box of homemade chocolate. And by giving you a box of chocolate, he would place it on top of your locker and would tell you it was him when you opened it.

Eloni waited for you to show up, but you never did. He was about to search for you when he was suddenly stopped by Neon J.

“Troop, this is Emiro.” Neon J gestures to the robot next to him, “He’ll be your bodyguard for tonight.”

“What happened to Y/N?”

“Y/n had an allergic reaction to something they had been eating. Thankfully, they had an epipen on them, but they're taking the rest of the day off.” With that, Neon J left Eloni with the realization that you were probably allergic to the chocolate he made. He was definitely not telling you that he made it.

Attempt #3, third times the charm:

This time, the rest of 1010 decided to devise a plan to help their brother.

They knew Eloni would probably never confess outrightly and while his feelings for you were obvious to Neon J and them, it would take a bit more effort for you to notice.

NSR was hosting a party on the anniversary of the company's creation. And with parties came a lot of security.

You and several other members were assigned to go undercover as party guests and report anything suspicious

This meant that instead of your usual attire, you wore a dress/suit

You still had your watch(the Eloni signal) with you as it also doubled as a radio that you could use to notify staff of suspicious activity

You had been casually chatting with other NSR staff when your watch had started to beep rapidly

Eloni was in trouble

You immediately rushed off to find him, it had been months since he last needed to signal you so it must’ve been bad

You turned around the corner to where Eloni was, only to be met with Haym.

“Haym?”

“Oh hey Y/N! How's it going?”

“Hello, Haym. I’m sorry, but I can’t really talk right now. I’m looking for Eloni, but my watch says he’s right here.”

“Don’t worry, I know where he is!” Haym proceeded to push you into a nearby room. You try to open the door only to find that it was locked. You tried to call someone on your watch, but it was gone. Haym must’ve taken when he pushed you.

“Haym, what the hell is going on! Let me out!” You said while banging on the door. He was kinda your boss, but you had a much more casual relationship with the other members of 1010.

“Y/N?” A voice said behind you. You turned around only to find Eloni. You could tell because of the green eyes and cheeks, which dimly lit the darkroom.

“Eloni? Is that you?” You couldn’t really tell due to how dark it was.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good. Do you happen to know why Haym locked us into this room?”

“Well, my brothers thought it would be funny if….” Eloni hesitated.

“Please tell me this isn’t some messed up version of seven minutes in heaven.”

“What, nonono!” Eloni’s fans began to whir loudly

“Right, sorry. Not like I’d have a chance anyway,” you mumbled that last part

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, Well it’s just you're a famous idol and you’ve got a lot of fans, you know?

“Who cares if I’m famous! That doesn’t make you any less incredible than you are. You’ve made me so happy and you helped me become popular! You were my first fan and I would love to go on a date with you! Eloni froze after realizing what he said.

“Wait, you like me?”

“Yeah”, Eloni blushed, I have for a while. I understand if you want to forget that this happened. I’m really sorry and I-“

You cut Eloni off with a kiss.

“Don’t worry. I feel the same way.”

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

“I’m going to the roof to stargaze. Would you like to join me?” Eloni asked. You had managed to unlock the door, and by unlock, you kicked the door open.

“Well I’m supposed to be out on the lookout for suspicious people,” Eloni’s face began to slightly falter. “But, my main objective is to keep you safe, so It’s best if I go with you. After all, you know how crazy fans can get.” With that, the two of you headed towards the roof.

“Well, that was really cheesy,” Zimelu said, peering his head behind a corner, before getting smacked by Rin.

#nsr #no straight roads #nsr x reader #eloni x reader #1010 #nsr 1010

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eyoricka · 4 years ago

Text

Pete’s assistant - Pete Davidson

Words: 2160

Warning: 2 curse words

Requested: yes

You had been Pete’s assistant for many years now. You had begun as an intern at NBC and that’s how you met Pete. The two of you immediately clicked, there was like a strange bond between you like you always knew each other or were meant to meet, to work together. So at the end of your internship, Pete asked you if you wanted to be his assistant, to help him with pretty much everything. He wasn’t famous enough to really have a publicist, so you also fill up this role. It was funny at first. Pete was nice to you, never asking for anything impossible to get. Contrary to many other celebs with their assistant, he treated you like his equal. Planning interviews was something you enjoyed, he was mostly in some presented by his friends, so it was pretty chill, and you learnt so much. You let Pete took charge of his social media presence, he was more than okay at it, was natural and able to create a connection with his fans.

However, at some point everything changed. Pete got way bigger, he was famous like really famous, not just known by SNL and stand-ups afficionados. Things got out of hand quickly. You still liked to work for Pete, he was still adorable to you but handling negative comments, the infamous song about him, people reactions and the repercussions on his mental health was a nightmare. You had too much to think about: to make sure he was feeling okay or at least not too bad, to make sure he would sleep, eat, not take too much drugs, go to work, go outside, try to stop the continuous harassment… Pete hired a publicist to take some weight out of your shoulders and have someone who would focus only on his impacted public image. Even though, Pete was probably at rock bottom, it was nice to see that he would still be kind to you, trying to smile a bit when you were ding your best to cheer him up.

And this is how the problems began for you. You knew the rule number one of any assistant: never fall for your boss. But you couldn’t help it. You had always loved his personality however you never considered having feelings for him. However, seeing him hurt, fragile but still caring about his close circle, still trying his best everyday for people he loved, still being nice when he could easily be an ass and take the heartbreak as an excuse, was enough to make you acknowledged that maybe you wanted to be more than a friend to him.

You decided to keep your emotions for yourself. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself or lose your job and friend for feelings that would never be reciprocated. To forget about them, you went on dates with several people, it was a failure. Every time you could stop yourself from comparing your date with Pete. Even if some people were funny enough, smart enough, kind enough, they were simply not enough. A date with them was pleasant but you couldn’t picture more, and it would be cruel to force a relationship with someone you didn’t have feelings for just to hide your current crush. So after some dates you gave up on the idea of finding someone for the moment and preferred to take time for yourself. As the year went on, you were the witness of Pete’s different and non-working relationships. You were happy for him, truly. He was able to move on which was great and he felt more like himself. But it still hurt to see him get far too involved in relations that were doomed to fail. He was too intense and passionate for his own good. You advised him to follow your example and take time for himself, to love himself and understand what he wanted, needed from a partner. Surprisingly, he did it and it did good on him.

A few months later, you were at a small gathering to celebrate Pete’s Netflix comedy special. The reviews were good, and the audience was following, it was great to watch Pete’s career on track to success, he would finally be recognized for his art. You were talking to Dave about the process of writing when you are down and how cathartic humor is. You glanced distractedly several times in Pete’s direction confident that you were discreet. As your drink was empty, you scanned the room to find the nearest bottle of a beverage you like. Your eyes met Colson’s ones and he grinned mischievously at you. You rose an eyebrow wondering why he looked like a devious elf and quickly manage to appease your thoughts, rationalizing that it was only Colson being his drunk and high self.

As you made your way to the counter full of bottles to pour you a glass, you felt two hands clapped your shoulders. You turned promptly and faced Colson who was smirking even wider.

“What do you want?” You asked not surprised by his presence but cautious about what he was about to say.

“Well just to chat with a lovely assistant, it has been a while since we haven’t talk.” He replied sweetly, an innocent smile replacing his smirk and you understood fully well why so many girls were crazy about him.

“Cut the crap” You deadpanned, not in the mood for his banter.

“I still wonder why I try to sugarcoat things with you” he mumbled certainly more for himself. After some long seconds of silence, he let out in a charming voice: “Don’t you think that would be the perfect night?”

You weren’t sure of what he was implying. He liked flirting but you seriously doubt that he was since he would never cross that border, maybe he was just bored or wanted to tease you. You didn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer that would fuel his joust.

“You don’t ask me the perfect night for what?” He added kind of amused by your lack of reaction. “Well I will tell you anyway because else it wouldn’t be funny. So my dear don’t you think it would be the perfect night to admit your badly hidden feelings for you know who.”

You gulped at those words. You attempt to come back with a witty, chill repartee that would show that you were diverted by this non-sense and not knowing about what he was talking about, but your mind was blank. You were sure that tonight before sleeping while your mind would replay this scene, you would think of many clever replies.

“Still no answer, I bet that this time it is not for the same reason, right” Colson joked, and you cursed yourself.

“I just don’t understand what you mean” you eventually managed to say, cringing at this lame attempt to act cool.

“Your blushing cheeks and stiff body are telling the opposite” Nice even your own body was now betraying you.

“I get that you are bored Colson and even if it would probably be the funniest thing of your night, I don’t plan on becoming the biggest idiot of the party for your entertainment. I know Pete doesn’t like me and it is okay, you can’t control someone’s feelings and…”

“I hope you realize that you already are the biggest idiot of the night” He cut you “and Pete is too. I can’t get my head around the fact that you are both blind, incapable of seeing the way the other looks at you. Shshshsh don’t reply, don’t want to waste my time on hearing you tell me that I am lying, imagining stuffs, and complaining about my behavior, I‘ve already had this long speech from Pete. You can do whatever you want, go tell him or don’t but just know that you don’t risk much. And don’t count on him to come, he is sure he has no chance. So please have the balls for the both you.” He was about to leave you there with many contradictory thoughts filling your head when he leaned to whisper: “But really please do tell him tonight, I bet some bucks with John that you would be the brave one, don’t prove me wrong.”

You nudged him and he burst out of laughter as you showered him with imaginative curses. You decided to sit few minutes just to take time to reflect. You needed to process what you just heard. If indeed had feelings for you, things would change drastically. You felt yourself slowly but surely drifting into panic. A part of your brain was screaming that it was lies maybe because it was easier to accept than the truth. You had dreamt of this but it was a dream and you weren’t sure that you were ready for that right now. Intrusive thoughts were running in your head defeating your ounce of rationality and calm. One of your hand was clenched on your drink firmly and you closed your eyes while inhaling and exhaling to relax yourself. From the outside you certainly looked crazy but you didn’t care, it didn’t even crossed your mind.

You were so focused on your breath that you didn’t notice someone siting next to you and neither feel this person hand on yours. When you opened your eyes, you detect that you were no longer alone and the person with you was none other than Pete. He softly smiled at you and you felt like dying inside, this smile was enough to make you forget any doubts, anything, to appease. You smiled back at him kindly. He seemed to be struggling to say something and you took the lead.

“I guess that Colson talks to you too, huh?” You questioned, your voice was a bit shaking and you had eaten half of your words however you knew that he had understood you.

“Kind of” he stated and your next words died in your throat, you were losing your confidence. Those tow simple words held a clear message: yes we talk but no I don’t like you. “Actually, John did most of the talking” he joked or at least try to. He was also way to stress to really be funny.

You wanted to say something, to admit what was consuming you inside nevertheless you were scared, you refuse to be too blunt on this. You had to be subtle, to find a way to make him realize but without saying it, so if the feelings were not reciprocal it would not be too awkward.

“Colson mentioned a bet on us” You hid your reddening face behind your drink and casually take a sip or at least as casually as you can considering your current position.

“I heard about it too” His fingers were drumming against his tights in nervousness. “I am kind of bother by it you see.” You nodded, you felt crushed inside, of course he would be bothered, who would not be bothered to be shipped with someone they don’t have feelings for. You did everything you could to remain still and not crack, not now, not in front of him, of his friends. “I don’t really any of them to get this money like I guess I want them to be right, but I don’t like them betting on us”. You blinked several times not sure if you were on the same page. “I am not very clear, I am? Well obviously, I am not, I have never been very clear in those situations. Maybe clearer than now, because now what I am saying is a mess, well normally it is confused but understandable. And I am rambling right now and I don’t even know why. Maybe because it is intimidating, like we know each other for so long and what I am saying is that it is different.”

He had lost you with his confused sentences, was he trying to reject you or the contrary. You wanted a certain answer, not an interpretation based on a wrong reading of the situation, actually you did not want this answer, you needed it. He was still digressing when you took the courage to interrupt him: “Pete please listen to me okay.” He shut up and looked at you in the eyes, sort of hanging of the words you would pronounce. “I like you Pete and not like I like Ricky or John, I mean not like a friend. Do you understand?”

There were few awfully long seconds of silence before you felt Pete’s forehead against yours and his hands on yours. “Fuck, you are a lot better at verbalizing this than I am” He smiled brightly, he was so beautiful when he was happy. “Can I kiss you?” He asked still quite unsure and you gently pressed your lips against his. It was a short and sweet kiss, the kind that promise wonderful tomorrows full of love, full of life.

#pete davidson #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson x you #snl fic #pete davidson fic #pete davidson oneshot #pete davidson imagine #pete davidson fanfic

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

lavender latte: vi

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 7 ||

masterlist

word count: 6.8k

finally. god.

warnings: none really! reader’s foot booted, but that’s about it.

---

well. here we are. thank u to everyone for reading this sweet, sweet story. we’re not through it yet, but i’m happy to offer a meal with this chapter. enjoy lovies. beta’ed by the lovely love @keiqos.

||||||||||||||||

You had several problems after returning to your apartment from the hospital. One of your coworkers was nice enough to drive you and your things back, but quickly the niceties stopped and your vague hell began.

Exclusively being on crutches sucked. Navigating your apartment and trying to live somewhat normally was a massive pain. Even just showering was a task that sapped most of your energy. Standing one-legged and balancing made your body ache with a deep soreness, especially the first few days you returned.

This was not even to mention the unpleasant dreams you were having.

‘Unpleasant’ & ‘dreams’ were a nice way of putting it.

You could recall that during your first night in the hospital, one of your doctors told you of the possibility of experiencing a few post-traumatic symptoms. Considering how out of it you were at the time, it was unsurprising how you brushed it off.

The reality was much harder to ignore.

...

Cars revving.

Shouting.

Shattering—

Your eyes flashed open, chest heaving and brow covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Fuck that.

It was the same dream, an obvious recreation of the stimuli of the event. Though it was scattered in your memory, the dreams made it horribly vivid and vibrant despite lacking detail. The sounds and smells of that day clung to you as you shook your head, forcing yourself into wakefulness.

Your comforter was thrown from your body, and you shivered as cold air rushed over you. As jarred as you were, you still swung your legs off the bed, readjusting your boot and your aching leg, half-heartedly glaring at your crutches.

Your apartment wasn’t terribly set up to get around with your limited mobility, but your difficulty functioning didn’t help your overall mental state. Everything was just harder with the boot on, and you did your best to work with it.

Being locked up in your apartment added to the hellishness of it. You were so used to the stimuli and social environment of the teashop, it felt like a cold water shock when you were confined to your home entirely alone except for your cats.

You could, of course, try and venture out into the world. But, it was still winter and the ice-covered sidewalks didn’t seem like the best place to try and crutch around.

Within the first day or two, you resigned yourself to your three-week fate of being holed up.

You had a laundry list of things you could do. Shows and movies to watch, places in your house to clean, your cats to pet, but—

You still had far too much time on your hands.

A lot of your newfound time in the first few days was spent on your back, leg propped up, and draped in ice bags, musing over Hawks.

Hawks.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t stop it. Just thinking about him made every part of you swirl and thrum like you were listening to some sort of contently-chorded song and you were more than happy to play it on repeat until your ears bled. Maybe that feeling towards Hawks had always been there (it had), but now you accepted it and stopped holding yourself back as much.

You never thought the idea of someone squeezing your shoulder would send you into literal fits of giggles and butterflies, but boy, did it. Not to mention all of the careful touches and gentle words you two had shared in the aftermath of the attack, though the memories were hazy. What you did remember and cherish was the warmth of him, quirk activated or not. Each time you recalled it, your gut fluttered and your hands twitched.

Your ceiling was the most interesting place to look in your apartment. The plain texture was the perfect canvas to allow your memories of the sweet interactions the two of you had shared to play like comforting reruns. The commercial breaks of these daydreams were the texts exchanged between you and Hawks.

Keigo couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

It wasn’t as distracting as it once was, as he had been more liberal with letting himself text you. The high number of messages between the two of you was maybe ridiculous, but he was a fast texter and you seemed to have plenty of jokes and banter for him to share in.

As good as the texting was, it was also nice to check-in on you and your recovery. You seemed more annoyed than anything else, but Keigo wasn’t so much of an idiot as to think you weren’t in any pain or struggling at all. Though you didn’t explicitly tell him or show him, he was familiar with the pains of healing and could infer some things about your state.

Keigo tried to brighten your day as he could. ‘Hawks’ still had plenty of hero work to do, especially with the information extracted from the recently detained syndicate members. Despite this, he took as much time as he could to stop and send you little snippets and messages which hopefully would help you smile a little.

It did, of course. Just talking to Hawks did.

You had moments of awareness a few times a day where you had to remind yourself that, yes, (Y/N), you were just casual friends and deeply enamored with the number two hero and that sentiment was at least partially returned.

You had a lot of time to wonder to what extent the feelings were returned. They obviously weren’t entirely one-sided, right?

It was completely possible that they were, but you did your best to shake off the thought.

It was more likely that notorious bachelor and flirt, pro hero Hawks, just wanted a fuck with some feelings. To fuck with some feelings, right?

Though, he did say that he cares about you.

But, you definitely can care about someone you only want to fuck.

You wished you had some sort of definitive answer. The murkiness of it all just made the sweetness of the past and the texts of the present seem a bit sour.

Confessing to Hawks was daunting and terrifying. Not to mention, it felt a bit juvenile, all of it. People weren’t supposed to get melty crushes like this past high school, right? Especially not ones this deep on someone who couldn’t possibly feel the same as you, right?

During one of these moments of uncomfortable clarity, your phone beeped as you rested on the couch. Despite not even seeing the message, you knew it would be Hawks.

You grabbed your phone, clicking open the newest message.

[birdboy]: hey hey angel

[birdboy]: look at this fucker i found

The image attached was a photo of Hawks standing next to one of his own billboards, advertising some sort of sports drink. The photo had obviously been taken with a timer, the angle of the photo tilted as Hawks and the billboard were quite small in the frame. It added to the charm of the photo, the way Hawks was holding a feather blade to the throat of his own advert. You could even tell through the pixels he was wearing a wide smile as he did so, wings spread behind him

You snorted.

You and Hawks are just friends, you reminded yourself.

[you]: looks like a punk bitch 2 me dude

[you]: kinda uncanny resemblance tho

[birdboy]: i agree

[birdboy]: he’s hot tho

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you readjusted on the couch. You weren’t disagreeing, not at all.

[you]: not wrong

[you]: still, punk bitch

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: feelings = hurt

[birdboy]: please tell me the photo is funny

[birdboy]: it took like five tries

[you]: very funny, im gonna save it and sell when im short on cash

[birdboy]: my publicist will blacklist u

[you]: i’d like to see them try

[birdboy]: is that a challenge angel????

[you]: a promise

There was a break in the messages, though Hawks appeared to be typing.

[birdboy]: unrelated but

[birdboy]: how are you doing?

You paused, taking stock of your disheveled, sleepy self. You were only a few days out of the hospital and you definitely could’ve been worse off.

[you]: im okay!!!

[you]: sore and tired honestly

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: i'm glad to hear its not worse at least

[birdboy]: ill send u lots more embarrassing photos

[birdboy]: a million angel

[you]: my hero <3

It all was surreal and mentally impossible to avoid.

You really, really liked Hawks and had for a long while.

...

Keigo spent most of the rest of the day busy with patrols and work for the Commission, much to his chagrin. He hardly got a chance to text you. It reminded him of his reality as a pro, his fast-paced nature and how he truly couldn’t slow down, not at that point anyway. He had a brand and habitual way of being that was standard. Even for you, he wasn’t sure if he could slow down, even if he wanted to or needed to.

The idea scared him, pieces of his reality.

But, at the same time, Keigo hadn’t ever felt like this before. The weird, but incredibly alluring and comfortable heat in his chest made him feel like he’d do anything for you. Fuck, he’d fly to the stars and move them if he could, if that’s what it took.

Maybe he even wanted to.

Keigo couldn’t become a different person, for anyone, that’s not how things worked. But if getting closer to you meant... adjusting, he could do that. Easily. He was adaptable as all hell and he’d be glad to use it for something that made him feel good instead of hollow.

Keigo busily flew the day away. As the afternoon turned to night, the sky going pink and purple with dusk, he settled on top of a taller office building. It looked down on a street market, its smells and sounds wafting up to him on his perch.

It gave him an idea.

A good one.

You were inspecting your fridge with a grimace. Balancing on your crutches and being counter-weighed by the boot on your foot made your angry stance a whole lot less intimidating, but it was the sentiment that counted.

Several days post-hospital had done a number on your food supply. The fridge was empty except for a few nearly expired items and condiments. The dry shelves weren’t looking much better.

The shrill sound of your ringtone from the couch made your jump, nearly falling. You teetered back over to it, eye-widening at the caller ID.

[birdboy] calling...

Hawks had never called you before.

You quickly picked up the call, “...Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Hawks was chipper on the other line. “What’re you up to?”

“Currently?” You hummed, turning forlornly to your kitchen. “Thinking about how I either need to order groceries or order dinner before committing to my couch for the rest of the night. Why? You don’t usually call.”

“I don’t,” Hawks’s smile was apparent in his voice, even through the receiver. “But, I had an idea.”

“Shoot.”

“I might just be near a super good takeout spot. How hard would it be for me to convince you to let me drop some food by your place? My treat.”

You didn’t reply for a second.

Stunned.

“Are you sure?”

“More than, dove. I’m off the rest of the night, anyways.”

Oh.

That gave you an idea—

An idea that would surely push the envelope of your feelings.

Let it.

“Okay, I’m in. One condition.” You bit your lip, willing your stomach to seize fluttering.

“You name it. This place is really good and—”

“I have been going a little stir crazy, and,” You cut him off, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation, “how hard would it be to convince you to come over and stay awhile?”

Hawks was silent.

Your stomach dropped.

“Wait, I-I mean—” You stuttered, trying to gather yourself, but this time Hawks cut you off.

“Like, to hang out?” Hawks sounded shocked on the other line.

“Yes.”

You kept your breathing even and prayed it didn’t read over the call.

“God, dove. I’d love to. I can be over in like ten—”

“Wait,” You fisted the fabric of your sweats. “Can I have a little more time? For myself and my apartment.”

Hawks chuckled on the other end of the line, “Sure, angel. Thirty sound better?”

You let out a sigh of relief, falling on to the back of your couch, “Sounds perfect.”

Keigo decided to tease a bit, his heart pounding in his chest almost painfully. He knew from day one that you were bold, but this was a treat. He had to spare back, just a little.

“Though, dove, I’m sure you look more than perfect yourself. You always do.” He didn’t wait for your response, either out of fear of what you’d say or being a bit smug, he wasn’t sure.

Keigo hung up the call, burying his face in his gloves to try and stifle the blush on his cheeks, though it hardly helped.

It didn’t have to.

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Thirty minutes later and you were mostly sorted.

You managed to throw yourself into the shower, tossing on something half-way decent, but still comfortable. Had to keep it casual.

Crutching around your apartment, you picked up what clutter you could, mind spinning. Hawks coming over to your fucking apartment filled you with elated, and yet terrifying, anxiety. A few times while cleaning, you legitimately paused to muffle quiet screams in your hand at the prospect.

You felt like you were going to burst.

Keigo did too, notably.

He took the time to fly all the way back to his apartment, take the world’s fastest shower, and throw on some clothes other than his costume. Going back to get food, his hands shook as he handed the bills to the starry-eyed vendor who he’d just written an autograph for.

You’d sent a quick text just before he’d left with a description of your balcony, so neither of you would have to figure out how to let him in through the roof.

As he flew to your place, Keigo felt like he was going to implode.

He didn’t ‘hang out’ with people. Nope, far too busy for anything like that. He was a compulsory workaholic, it was part of his mental brand of being (or, mental ‘branding’, maybe). The closest he got to casual time with folks was the preamble before a hookup or the time he had spent at the tea shop with you. Actually going to spend time with someone, casually, and it was you? It was all new and terrifying.

But, above all? Exciting.

The whole situation opened many doors, all of which Keigo pictured and picked apart as he neared your apartment. There were so many potential situations to appraise and plan for, he felt overwhelmed by it all.

The opportunity to spend some... time with you outside of the tea shop was a necessity, right? Keigo’s original idea had been to drop off some food and banter for a while, but the idea of spending one of his precious nights off with you was so much better than he could’ve expected.

Not to mention the warm bit of validation sparked by the fact that you asked him to come over, you wanted him around —

It felt nice.

So nice.

You paused, hearing telltale scuffing of someone on your balcony.

Oh my god.

He’s here.

Hawks is here.

You gulped, shaking your head.

Don’t you dare chicken out now. Commit, dammit. You’re just... hanging out. With your friend.

Yeah.

A knock on the glass pulled you to the door of your balcony, hobbling to slide it open on your crutches.

Hawks was happy to push the door the rest of the way open, stepping inside with a bag of takeout slung on his arm.

Your mouth parched, seeing him once again in civilian clothing. Was it... normal to get turned on by the fact that he looked normal?

As Hawks stepped into your humble apartment, wings tucked tightly to his back, you drank him in, hair ruffled with his clear visor placed on top of his head to push back the windswept front pieces. He wore a white sweater and black trousers complete with heavy black boots that were quickly untied and left by the door.

“You’re staring, you know,” Hawks interrupted your thoughts as you straightened up on your crutches.

Recover.

“Can’t prove that,” You tutted, crutching away from the door. “Also, welcome. Watch out for my cats, they might try to get a mouthful of your feathers.”

“Duly noted,” Hawks clicked his tongue, standing up and following you as you meander to the kitchen.

Keigo had to admit that your apartment was relatively... cute. He was used to his own, seldom-used digs. He had a big, uncomfortably nice penthouse with too many disused rooms and too much open space. Fixtures and furniture that were too expensive, probably, but it had been far easier to hire some big-name interior designer and not bother with dealing with it himself. Keigo had trouble keeping many ‘personal’ possessions, anyways. His training with the Commission made him almost revile the thought of keeping unnecessary, material objects, sans a few.

Your home was the exact opposite.

Maybe it was that he didn’t know how to have a personal touch that it made your cozy little apartment feel so full of them.

Little photos and artworks on walls or in frames caught Keigo’s eyes as he followed you to the kitchen. He took note of several blankets on the couch, catching sight of the plushie he’d given you at the hospital. Even the lighting of the apartment was personal, diffuse. With how easily overstimulated you became, it made sense that you’d keep your apartment so ambiently dim.

“So, first off, thank you for coming by and delivering dinner. I am eternally grateful,” You bowed dramatically, leaning to flail out a crutch at the motion. “Second, as payment, I’ll make you a drink. Maybe not with my quirk, but I have some of my old tea blends here.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Keigo shrugged, setting the takeout down on the counter while his ever-present grin nearly hurt his face from how relentless it was. “And tea? Show me what you’ve got. Or, should I trust you to pick one out for me?”

You hummed, clicking your tongue before moving across the kitchen to a different set of cabinets, “I think I’ve actually got a good one for you. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Lay on the details, angel,” Keigo hummed, leaning against the lip of the counter.

You did have the perfect blend in mind. It wasn’t too old, hardly stale. It would pair as well as a nice tea could with fried takeout, judging by the smells wafting from the bag on the counter.

“It’s one I made for a brunch we catered a few months back. It’s just a white tea raspberry blend, but it’s not delicate. It should stand up to any sort of food you’ve brought. Thank you, by the way.”

Setting your crutches down, you started to push yourself up onto the counter without thinking much of it, booted-foot going limp off the edge.

“Of course, anytime— woah, angel,” His voice choked as you wavered on the edge of the counter, off-balance.

There was a short flap of wings and rush of air as you tried to rebalance, cursing the deadweight of your leg.

If Hawks hadn’t been directly behind you, you probably would’ve eaten shit.

You turned yourself as far as you could, cheeks going hot.

Hawks’ face was just inches away from yours. That was even to mention the hands hovering around your waist, chest brushing up against your back.

“S-sorry,” Did he just fucking stutter? “You looked like you were about to eat shit there.”

The words hardly reach you, you were too busy actively telling yourself not to stare at his pretty, plump lips because that is not something friends do. Not the can of worms you needed to open, right?

“I-,” You turned away from him, stretching up to the tea tin that had been out of your reach. “To think you’ve saved me from falling while reaching for loose leaf tea, twice.”

“All in a day's work,” His hands twitched around your sides but hardly shifted until you began to descend from the countertop. In fact, Hawks hardly moved away at all until you were situated back on your crutches.

You pretended not to notice the flush on his cheeks.

Maybe, it was a bit too close. Definitely too close, and bad circumstances, but god, you wanted more and more of him.

You swallowed your desires down, cracking a smile.

Be normal.

Be cool!

You shook the tin, leaves and dried fruit rattling inside, “So, cream or sugar?”

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

The two of you ended up on the couch, picking through the several boxes of takeout that Hawks had brought. Most of dinner was spent bantering back and forth about one of Hawks’ newest modeling contracts and if it was ‘ethical’ for him to wear his own feathers for the sake of ‘fashion’?

“So, off-topic from insulting my employment ethics, ” Hawks spoke while munching on a piece of chicken. “You surviving?”

“Barely,” You laughed, setting down your utensils with a huff. “I forget how isolation makes you go a little crazy. I’m running out of dumb shit to watch and even dumber shit to send you.”

Hawks snorted, setting down his own box, having had his fill, “I know you are more than adept at combing the internet for more good shit to send me.”

“I mean, maybe, but you keep sending me juicy photos of you being a dumbass. They’re hard to show up, you know?” You side-eyed him at the birdish tilt of his head.

“You don’t need to show me up, angel,” Hawks reminded you, some feathers packing up what was left of the food. “Though, it’s fun. You’re fun.”

You internally winced at the sentiment but forced the smile on your face not to waver.

It was a needed reminder.

This close to Hawks, you could fucking smell him. Maybe it was a little creepy, but you remembered it so well, after the villain attack. The scent of some sort of spicy cologne and old sweat, but it was hardly unpleasant. No, it was intoxicating. It made you feel almost fuzzy, as it wafted around like some reminder that Hawks and you were so close.

You thanked the stars that the apartment lacked the stimuli to make your quirk activate on its own.

Your couch wasn’t very large, and it seemed even smaller with how Hawks had laid his wings over it. They were propped up over the back, outstretched just the smallest bit to relieve some pressure. All the same, the massive feathers made you feel minuscule.

Even the way he was sitting was intoxicating and a bit gut-wrenching. It was casual, the way he leaned back against the far cushions, legs somewhat spread with an ankle over the opposite knee. The pose oozed a weird, untouchable confidence that you hadn’t seen in Hawks in months, maybe ever. At least, not directed at you.

Despite the warm nature of his words, he seemed guarded.

It made your throat dry.

Keigo was quite on edge. He hadn’t meant to get so close in the kitchen, really, he hadn’t. But, seeing you dangling off the edge of the counter like that, even if it was harmless and mundane, made his entire body and mind react before he could think.

But, you weren’t in any danger. Even if you had been, Keigo would’ve been there to catch you.

He’d put himself out of it, overthinking the whole thing. You were fine. Safe.

The other part of his mind spun with how he wanted to be so much closer.

Feeling the warmth of your body, the lines of your waist, the thrum of your heart and breath so fucking close—

It was a lot.

But, he was well-trained and not going to choke.

He’d shoved himself to the opposite side of the couch to you, keeping his boundaries up, strong as steel and hard as carbon.

Of course, Keigo knew the feelings were mutual. That didn’t mean that none of this was terrifying in the same way that it was exhilarating.

As much as he wanted to be closer (so much closer), Keigo remained careful. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was ruin something before it had even truly happened.

You sat back against the couch, repositioning your injured leg on the coffee table, “So, thoughts.”

“On?”

You didn’t look at Keigo as you replied, rather glared at your TV, “What to watch?”

“Oh,” You could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re watching something?”

“You tell me. I imagine you don’t get lots of time to do this sort of thing, do you?”

Hawks didn’t reply for a moment, sitting deeper into the couch, “Not really.”

“Then indulge, tailfeathers,” You tossed the remote in his lap. “Anything, go for it. Go nuts.”

Hawks nearly put on watching a reality cooking show, before you said that that was off-limits, per an odd conversation from way back when where he had admitted to be hot for Gordon Ramsey. He had been a little too vague as to whether or not he would pop a boner from Gordon’s filmed degradations. And truthfully, if anything was gonna give Hawks a hard-on tonight, you were determined for it not to be competitive cooking TV. Maybe, just maybe, you’d rather it be you.

...

Eventually, he settled on some psychological thriller you’d never heard of.

Keigo hadn’t either.

He was glad that you couldn’t hear his heart in the same way he heard your’s pounding.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you crutch around, turning the already dim lights lower.

Calm the down, Hawks.

Calm the fuck down.

He’d never even done this before. Keigo wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, even if it was as simple as watching a film.

It would’ve been simpler if the tension in the air was thick and foggy, clouding over his consciousness as he tried to focus on anything other than your nearness and how much he wanted to drag you into his lap.

…

His feathers fluttered as you plopped back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over your lap and offering one to him.

He took it, settling it over his lap as the movie went on.

You weren’t an idiot. You could feel the blood rushing in your hot ears as you fisted the blanket over your legs.

Your mind spoke a lot louder than you wanted it to:

Just fucking do it.

Do what exactly?

The paramount thought that was causing anxiety to twirl in your gut.

Maybe, you could just tell him how you felt.

Maybe just hold his hand.

Maybe get fucking rejected because he’s out of your league and out of bounds.

Maybe even kiss him—

You were torturing yourself, the movie just background noise to your internal dilemma.

You’d asked him to your apartment and Hawks had bought you fucking dinner. That wasn’t a lot, sure, maybe, but there were also the months of lead-up.

There were all of the cold mornings and cheeky grins you gave each other in the waking coffee shop. There were the fuzzy jokes, the lingering glances, and the tight feeling you got in your chest whenever he graced you with mere eye contact.

It felt like you were already in too deep to not be honest about how you felt towards him. Fuck, you’d been in too deep for months. Every time you made him a damn drink, you wanted to just drink him in. You were all fluttering hearts and sweet smiles for him in a way that you couldn’t suppress, only squash in moments of such intense anxiety like this—

“Hey, dove?” It was Hawks, shocking you from your turmoil with a soft voice. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” Your reply was curt and clipped.

Make a decision now.

Pull the bandage off, (Y/N).

It’ll just be worse, the longer you wait.

Maybe Hawks did just want to fuck with some cute feelings, the seemingly longing looks be damned. Yeah, you liked him way more than for just a fuck, that was obvious and unavoidable. Besides, it’d be better to know than to not know, right?

“You sure? If the movie’s too much, we can turn it off,” Hawks sounded genuinely concerned from the other side of the couch.

...

You committed, taking a deep breath and turning to Hawks.

“It’s not that,” You looked at the couch between the two of you, tracing the seam of the cushion. “The movie’s fine.”

“Then, you’re not feeling great for another reason?” Keigo asked, feeling each of your breaths and heartbeats like bass drums in his ears. He hides the shaking of his hands by crossing them over his chest. “You can talk to me, (Y/N).”

“Can I?” You asked, shaking your head and laughing at yourself. “Hawks, I need to do something really fucking stupid.”

Holy fuck.

Are they—

“What’s that?”

His voice was smaller than he wanted it to be.

“Fuck, Hawks,” You finally forced yourself to look at him, taking in his guarded posture and pained expression.

Your heart sank.

“I just need to be honest with you.”

Hawks’s brow soured, lips twitching, “Go for it, dove.”

You laughed, maybe trying to soothe yourself, “It’s probably is just, so fucking stupid, all things considered.”

You ran a hand through your hair, biting your lip between sentences and willing yourself to just get it out—

“Hawks, I like you. A lot.”

He still didn’t say anything and you could feel shards of your heart drive into your lungs.

You forced yourself to look up at him, smiling with the slight release of tension in your sternum, however painful.

“I know, we’re just friends, right? I’m just the barista and you’re my special, pro hero regular. I know I’m overstepping right now, but it feels unfair for me to not be honest with you.”

Keigo already knew this, right? He knew how you felt, fuck, he’d felt how you felt. He just wasn’t prepared for the exploding and thrumming in his chest when you told him with your sweet lips and kind words.

Why did it feel so different when you were smiling at him like you were in pain and telling him so fucking honestly with your words?

It was the thing about you that he admired the most, that candor in your tone and the grin in your cheeks as you spoke so.

But, your smile was falling, leaving watery-looking eyes.

“Hawks, I like you. Way too much for friends, and I needed to say something.”

Keigo’s mouth was dry.

For the first time in so fucking long, he was genuinely speechless.

He couldn’t recall a time in his life anyone had spoken so earnestly to him, just you. Just you, you, you— casually, over and over again, you talked to him like he was something real and something to be cared for. It was subtle, but it was one of the many things that made him want you closer.

Yet, despite all his bundled up desires, he was lost for words.

“I’m sorry—”

He stopped you, “(Y/N), please don’t apologize.”

“But—”

“(Y/N).”

Hawks’ voice was sharp. It made the expression on your face rapidly fall.

He looked at you with rapt attention, arms uncrossing from his chest.

He turned to you on the couch, feathers fluffed up and twitching.

Your nose stung as Hawks, all pretty golds and ambers, shook out an exhale and balled up the blanket in his lap.

“Hawks—”

“Why would you need to be sorry?”

Hawks looked at you with wide eyes, brow creased. His shoulders were... shaking?

Your head spun, leg aching, “... What do you mean?”

Hawks finally met your gaze, giving you the sweetest, saddest smile you’d ever seen, “Dove, you’re acting like there’s no way I could feel the same way.”

Every cell in your body stuttered.

“You’ve done it since we’ve met.”

Hawks scooted closer on the cushions of the couch.

“You’ve always acted like there’s just no way I could like you, give a shit about you—”

He moved a bit closer.

You couldn’t make yourself move.

“You want to know the truth?”

You creaked out a nod.

Keigo couldn’t help the way he went to cup your cheeks in his hands, thumbs rubbing along the apples of your cheeks. You lean into his touch, just like at the hospital, despite the blend of absolute fear and confusion in your expression.

“How could I not care about you, dove?” And it finally came out. “I care about so much— dove, I don’t know what to fucking say.”

That made you speechless, lips parting just the slightest bit as Hawks continued, losing composure with his morphing expressions.

He wet his lips, swallowing, “Dove, I’ve never—any of this. I-I don’t know what o-or how to say any of what I want to right now.”

You speak before thinking.

“Show me, if you don’t know how to say it.”

The idea seemed so novel as Keigo ran a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth. He met your gaze with the gooiest, sweetest look you’d ever seen in your life, “You want me to?”

“Please.”

It was all the two of you had wanted for a while now, right?

“If I kiss you, I’m not ever gonna be able to make this go away, am I?” Keigo was speaking to himself, just above his breath. But, you were more than close enough to hear him.

“Hey, Hawks? I don’t know if we can make ‘this’ try to go away.” You grabbed one of the hands cupping your face, pulling it away, only to shakily press in your lips to the bones on the back of it. “I don’t want to anymore.”

“Y-you gotta stop being so sweet, (Y/N)—”

Neither of you could wait a moment longer.

Your arms wrapped around Keigo’s shoulder. In the same motions, he pulled you closer by your waist, dragging you finally closer to him.

He held your jaw like you were the most precious thing in the world. Because, truthfully, you were to him. The sentiment was shared Deeply.

Your lips pressed together and the long-held tensions in your chests mutually shattered, dissolving in the honeyed touch of each other’s genuine attention.

You angled your head perfectly, Keigo’s hand guiding you as his mouth worked against yours. It wasn’t a particularly steamy sort of affair, but by god, it wasn’t in any way chaste. Not with the tight grip and thumbing on your ribs. Not with the way your hands tangled in the soft (holy fuck, soft) hair at the base of Keigo’s skull.

You both tasted each other's sweetness, craving more of it after denying yourselves of it for so long. It was white-hot, exploding behind your eyes, even as your quirk remained dormant. Keigo was honey and cream and smoked spices all dancing across your palette.

To Keigo? You were sweet, cool water over a hot burn. You were the heat of a hearth rolling over him on the coldest of days. He swears that in the first moments he finally got to be close to you, and over and over again— he finally understood how your quirk worked.

There was no way that finally feeling you, feeling you as he felt you, could be described with just five senses.

You pulled away first, gasping for breath and arching your back into him. You lingered as close as you could, pressing your forehead to Keigo’s while your breaths mingled. You didn’t dare stray far.

“Was that enough to show you?” Keigo asked, breathless. He kept a wide hand against your back, urging you with a bit of soft pressure to put your weight into it. You complied, settling in his hold as Keigo stroked at your hot cheeks.

You nodded, beaming up at him with that sunny smile of yours. It never failed to make heat burn through Keigo and god, did it feel good to finally let it unabashed.

“I take it, you like me too, huh,” You smiled, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Very much, very much,” Keigo repeated, pressing a kiss to your nose (he’d always wanted to do that). “So much, (Y/N). I apologize for not saying anything sooner. This is just...”

“New to you, right?” You finished his sentence, thumbing along the back of his neck in a way that made Keigo just melt. “It’s been a while for me too, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does, dove. Thank you.” Keigo let out a deep breath, shaking his head against yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“It’s alright, same goes for me,” As much as you needed to adjust due to the angle of your recovering leg, you couldn’t make yourself do it. You were so wonderfully close to Hawks, you never wanted to move.

“If we’re being honest, then I need to be honest with you,” Hawks met your eyes, his expression going a little dimmer.

You braced for the worst.

He picked up your shift easily, finally able to express how quickly he caught your mood after so long of being attuned to it.

“Oh wait, no, (Y/N), nothing terrible, I promise,” Hawks rubbed at your sides. “It’s about the miel.”

“The... miel?” You cocked your head to the side, confused, recalling the drink somewhat hazily. “The drink I made you on the day of... the attack?”

Hawks gave you a tense smile, “That one, yeah. Remember how you said it was just based on your ambient feelings?”

“Uh-huh.” You let confusion lace your tone until it slowly started to dawn on you.

“You made the drink, ambiently, around me—”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, “Oh my god, Hawks, did my feelings for you get in the drink?”

Hawks graced you with a sweet, sympathetic smile, fingers tucking at the hair around your ear, “They did, dove. I’ve kind of known for a few days, it just hasn’t been the time or setting to say something. I apologize.”

“N-no, it’s okay, I totally understand,” You sighed into his grip. “I really thought it might be something worse.”

“Consider your worries assuaged,” Hawks hummed, eyes drifting to your boot. He deadpanned suddenly. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does your leg hurt right now?”

Fairly bad, considering. You were half on your knees, the booted leg twisted awkwardly while still raised to the coffee table. This wasn’t even to mention the arch of your back so you could be all that closer to Hawks.

The pain of the position was easy to forget; you were still shaking from kissing Hawks just once.

“Uh, maybe like a seven, once I can feel anything other than how good you felt just now,” you hummed, grinning up at Hawks as his face went bright red.

The infinite pleasure you received, making him blush so sweetly.

He shook it off, squeezing your sides, “Cute. Very cute. Mutually returned sentiment, but let’s adjust.”

You nodded but didn’t have much time to react as a bundle of Hawks’s feathers lifted you every which way, albeit incredibly gently. All said and done, he was fully upright against the back of the couch. With the support of a feather or two, Hawks’s arms tugged you into his lap. Your legs stretched to the side, the booted one immediately propped up by a feather-supplied pillow.

You both settled yourselves, blushing and leaning on each other now that you finally were allowing yourself to.

Keigo fully wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him. One of his wings even shifted to drape over one his shoulder, sheltering the two of you in a canopy of a crimson. Keigo let his hands wander over your hips, not seeking anything more than blessed attention and heat. You gave it all to him, tucking your face into his collarbone, drowning in the scent that made you feel at home.

Keigo pressed his lips to your crown and legitimately shuddering.

He spoke to himself, so faintly and quietly, you hardly caught it, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

There was melancholy in his voice, but you were quick to strip it away.

You brushed your lips along his jaw, savoring the way he held you tighter, “I have too. Can we do this more?”

“Anytime, dove. Anytime.”

“Right now sound good?”

You withdrew to beam up at him as you were so good at doing, only to be smothered by craving-satiating kisses anywhere Keigo could get to. The sweet, high laughter that he dripped onto you made your heart burst all over again.

And you finally, finally fell into the other sweetly, warmly, and properly.

||||||||||||||||||

taglist: @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw

#salem writes #lavender latte #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x y/n #mha reader insert #hawks reader insert #hawks #takami keigo #hawks mha #hawks bnha #im soft for this one yall #so soft

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kim-monsterlings · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, I really like your writing and I would love to request a monster match!

About me: I’m a girl who is pretty friendly and am known to be “overly nice” but have a sarcastic funny side. I’m more of an ambivert and have a bit of a dark side that pokes out every now and then especially in my art. I do a lot of reading and artwork I have a gender preference for males.

About them:

I like someone who is a bit cold to outsiders but treats me sweetly, someone who has a bit of a dominant side, and someone who has a sense of humor. Physically I like someone tall and thin (but in a muscular kinda way) with dark hair and light eyes. My love language is physical touch and words of affirmation.

Preferences : nothing really to avoid ! Monster preferences I think demons are really cool but if you are in the mood to write something specific you can do that too! I like the hate to love tropes , especially when it involves one person hating the person pining for them. NSFW would be preferred ! Thank you I hope this is ok!

Deon - M Tiefling x F Human (Reader) // NSFW Monster Match

Anon monster match <3 I hope you love him!

Matches under the read more!

Content: NSFW/Lemon; enemies to lovers/hate to lovers trope, mutual pining, passing insults, light flirting, minor angst, intimacy (throat kisses), D/S (dominant monster), fluff, allusions to bondage and further BDSM, blowjob (no release), alluding to more

Masterlist // Monster Match Info + Masterlist // My Ko-Fi

Headcanon

Had there been any other option so close to home, the faint warmth of the old antique's store wouldn't welcome you so often. Though nowhere else had such range - such depth to the college, one passed through the owner's family through generations, and the reason you returned when nothing else preoccupied you.

Some little part of you enjoyed the spike of discomfort on entering; from facing the faded artworks and the piercing glare by the harshened scowl of a tiefling, an expression he fell into by practiced ease.

With so little way of causing such offence, you hadn't realised your first passing welcome of "good morning," would incite loathing, until the dusk-skinned tiefling scoffed.

Not a step from the entryway, you had bristled - both by the unnecessary response, and the depth of his voice, sounding almost like a growl.

"You're not going to say it back?"

Ebony strands curled around three horns - two at his temples, long like the devil's, and a third protruding from the centre of his forehead - so unlike the golden tint to his narrowing eyes. Deon, his badge said, pinned to his shirt accentuating his muscular frame.

From behind his hidden legs - cloven, you'd seen once, much like a satyr's, his thin tail whipped. "Not to you."

Your heart sought what it so obviously couldn't have. Each stinging roll of his eyes lured you back once more in search of an inspiring antique, something to become your week's motivation for a blank canvas.

Most often, the grunts came in mild insults; "I thought I'd finally rid myself of you," or, "what have I ever done to deserve such torture?"

Sharp stares followed your every move on your visits, only deterred when you smiled bright - not at all insincere. "Oh, Deon. Did you miss me?"

"Missed your purse."

"Charming."

In spite only, he winked, a fluttering of long eyelashes, and you ducked to hide your breathlessness. No further retorts came at the quiet chimes of another customer entering, though the tiefling's stare never wavered from you until they had paid and left again.

He paid no mind to such manners as you took their place; perks of inheriting the shop, you suppose.

With your change pooling in your palm, so gently the touch of slender fingers stroking your knuckles came, that you nearly dropped the money.

"Now, run on home," he murmured, head tilting. "And allow me a week of peace before showing your face again."

Your trembling was unmistakable and his smirk rose cruelly when you whispered, "you'd miss me too much."

Without a denial, you left.

He had his week's reprieve from you, and longer.

Your commission fell through midway. After days of preparation - of enduring Deon's taunts as you meandered the old shop, they compensated your part of the cost for your troubles, though no longer wished to have it completed.

You'd little need for returning with no reason to seek inspiration. In such a state, too, when you wanted nothing more than to see the tiefling responsible for your sour mood, one wrong quip would crush you.

Only with a month gone absent - compared to your usual frequenting three times a week, if not more, did you draw a deep breath at the entrance.

"You're back."

Clawed nails rapped on the counter, sharp cheekbones rested on his palm. Deon's lips pursed and the weight of his stare fell from your bitten lip to your shaking hands.

"Haven't seen you in a while."

"Deon-"

"I missed you, is all."

His thumb dipped between his lips in your silence, as if inviting you to take the bait, but you couldn't. Another week passed before you brushed beneath the dangling chimes and into the first aisle, breath shallow and waiting.

Even his whisper had you aching.

"About what I said before..."

"You missed my purse, I know."

"No."

So sharp, you turned like he'd snatched you himself. Deon held your eyes steady, only the curling of his tail betraying his discomfort.

"I missed you. Where have you been?"

"One month was long enough for you to learn some manners, then." His smile was slight, and your knees felt weak. Deon had never smiled at you without a veil of displeasure. "Long enough for you to cease hating me, too?"

Maybe it was the softening of your voice, but Deon eased, too. "Who said I don't still?"

"I can go."

"Stay. Stay," he murmured, and the counter lifted for him to step through.

He walked you through every aisle with a hand just brushing yours, never looking from your growing smile. It didn't take a week for you to return, and this time, his first words were:

"Good morning."

Drabble

"Enough of that now, love."

"It's nearly finished."

"As it was nearly finished when I left some hours ago," your tiefling murmured, lips to your temple. "It will be almost done tomorrow, too. There's time left for it. Now is for me."

Warm, strong arms guided yours away from the detailed canvas. It wasn't nearly completed - nor would it be tomorrow afternoon, though you had plenty of time before needing it done. After being so far apart all day, his persistent, open-mouthed kisses fluttering down your throat begged for you to turn away.

The piece's inspiration stemmed from an old purchase from him, before Deon had finally come to his senses - as he liked to tease, and decided to take you out somewhere nice to make amends for his lack of manners.

Even if he couldn't understand the deeper meanings to every curving line and deeper shading, he would praise you all the same with whispers of your talent and how proud he was.

Something so simple always shattered your focus.

Gone several minutes without him leaning to greet you with a proper kiss, you forced away your frown and said, "I'll be done soon."

Without needing to turn, you could imagine the clenching of his sharp jaw. A day passing uncomfortably around customers had him wound tight and contemplating what to do with you, how to lure you away from your work, before delicate hands curled to your shoulders with a firm squeeze.

"Not another word, unless I've asked you a question. Understand?"

Just like that, with little more than a whisper sentence, an instruction, your heart leapt. Your day hadn't been so discomforting that the steady pressing of his chest to your back never came to mind until he squeezed your arms again in warning.

"I understand."

Teeth caught the shell of your ear. "Remind me of your safe word."

"Antique."

He hummed and removed himself from you. "Clothes off. Kneel before the bed."

Not wanting to waste another precious second, you flew. Times like these, with his quiet laugh warming the space you vacated, your body already thrummed with the promise of his whisper declarations soon to leave imprints from your breasts to your trembling thighs.

From his scowling to his kisses, it felt like whiplash. Clinging to his initial loathing before surrendering to your bright smiles and genuine small talk changed in that month apart, though he utilised the distance he'd once fostered to hold himself back from your warming body, aching and bare in wait.

The brief touch of his leather belt tapped your cheek. Not for now, you could almost hear him say as it fell around your shoulders.

"Before I take you on your back beneath me," he said, trousers now nudged low to bare his slightly furred legs. "You're going to earn it."

You were leaning to brush your tongue against his dark and swollen cock before Deon had even told you to. Flushed and slick so soon, dragging against your lips, he reached to cradle your crown and coax you closer.

Neither of you fixated on how he broke when you curled your tongue's tip to the throbbing underside of his length, groaning enough he twitched.

"Save your strength," he breathed. "I've got plans for you."

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worldsover · 4 years ago

Text

Dal Segno ft. Chuu

length ✦ 3570

genres ✧ music making; oral fixation; facefuck; subby!Chuu

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Composition is only fifty percent of the process, you've heard, but it's closer to ten for you. For the importance of a solid melody and chord progression with the right instruments and singer, a song becomes less than the sum of its parts with bad mixing because all that effort goes to waste when you can’t hear something, or when something is too loud, or when a certain je ne sais quoi is wrong. But you do know. You don't have to be a chef to be a food critic but it certainly helps. Avoid muddling the lows as it waters down the soup. Carve space in the highs to prevent too much salt from killing the taste buds. Have at most five sounds at a time or else the flavors clash. Focus on these basic techniques to guide you as repetition wears down your mind. Funny. Repetition legitimizes especially in music yet here you are fatigued by repetition as though you weren't down four cups of black coffee. Repetition legitimizes. “From the sign,” the translation reads. Notation, simply instructing a musician to return to a certain point in a piece. You recognize it as an intro song you wrote years ago.

Glass and foam separate the undersized room. Cheap ramen and dampness in the hot air contribute to the odor. You would keep the fan on, if it were worth the extra time filtering out faint noise from recordings. The only scent that keeps you sane is a slight strawberry flavor lingering in the room. Jiwoo. Your muse. A large clock holds both of its hands near one with the lack of natural light muddling whether it’s AM or PM. Studios were always underground man-caves whether they were discount rooms or the signature workspace of the biggest producers. Here you are in the former. Look down at the Macbook and all the wires, sliders, and knobs. Deep breath. “Take 63,” you say into the cheap control room microphone.

“Not good enough.”

“Again.”

“One more.”

Look up. Jiwoo sucks on a grape lollipop. You stare. Watching her fixated on getting all flavor out of the purple sweet derails your flow state. See, work had a rhythm. Listen, volume up, hotkey to copy this clip, volume down. The obvious innuendo sends you offbeat. That perky butt bending over to get a notebook filled with lyrics entrenches the folds of your brain. She didn’t have to wear that skirt. You’ve seen that skirt already and you wish she weren’t wearing it. Oh, you really wish she weren’t wearing that skirt. Guilt sets in. You’re a trusted coworker, she, a naive girl. It takes a while to find your groove again. Your stare has yet to cease until she finally returns the eye contact with candy still in mouth. Her pink tongue laps to secure all the sugar and red pillows engulf the ever-shrinking circle. Pop. Anyone else and it would be calculated action.

“Oppa." Her voice resounds in your monitor headphones. "I don’t know if these harmonies really make sense. Why did you write the second voice to cross down below the main line? Plus it goes so low."

“To be fair, you wrote both of those melodies and you said you wanted them in the same song. Tell me anywhere else they’d work.”

“Ugh, let’s figure this out later. Next song.“

Dozens of takes later and Jiwoo’s frustration causes her to make mistakes. Sometimes she even tries to start singing with the sucker in her mouth. For the character she plays, you know she’s a professional and that she can be better. Yet hours later, she still could not get the vocal runs right. Incomplete songs bloat your project folder: "Jiwoo - Mania", "Jiwoo - Look Closer", "Jiwoo - Untitled Idea 21". Just a small side project that the company approved during another ample period of break time between comebacks. That’s why the director didn’t even let you use the company’s facilities, instead opting to rent out this cheap closet of a studio. At least no one would be mad about the amount of time you spent recording together.

You shift seats from the leather office chair to the white lovechair, the only two pieces of furniture that fit comfortably in the room. Jiwoo follows suit and leaves the recording booth, really more of a phone booth in square footage, while she huffs and puffs on her candy.

“I’m tired, oppa,” she says.

“Me too, Jiwoo. May I remind you that I’m not getting paid extra for this. Are you gonna focus or what?” your voice just a few cents down, just a bit harsher.

“I, I’m sorry.” A lick anyway. Her meek tone disappears, “Ya! You know how good your royalties are gonna be. Sole producer and all that. Plus, here you are still doing all this work for me." Why were you working so hard on this? "You know, if you just taught me how to use Ableton-”

“Then I’d be out of a job.”

Jiwoo frowns, “Wow, selfish much? You could’ve joined me as a trainee.”

“Nah, no way. Fish dance better.”

“Shut up, oppa. You would’ve easily made it with your, um, musical talent.” She clamps down on the lollipop with her mouth.

“You good? What was that?”

“Let’s," she stands promptly, "get back to recording.”

Crack. Jiwoo bites down on the lollipop and throws the stick in the trash. In ten minutes, she nails the verse she spent hours trying to get right. It'd be really nice to know what catalyzed that rally. You'd ask but driving Jiwoo back to her dorm is quiet as usual.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Make a good impression on someone, anyone, on your first day as a mixing engineer. That’s why you returned to the Blockberry Creative building with an extra bar of Melona in hand. A simple bribery. Light beamed down between two skyscrapers on a short girl with long hair and strands of bangs adorning her forehead. She stood outside the lobby, introducing herself to every passerby. You had to pinch her cheeks, the intrusive thought screamed.

She scurried up to you. “Hi! I’m Kim Jiwoo and I’m going to become an idol!”

Ah, a trainee. You already knew she was destined to become one. Well, not literally, you weren’t in charge of that. But her overflowing charm was impossible to ignore. You had to tease her though, “Are you sure?”

“Hey! What would you know about that, mister?” she said.

You bit down on your mango. “Mister? First of all, I’m only a high school senior,” her lips rounded in surprise, “And second, I’m your new audio guy, and I know for a fact they’re debuting you girls in order of talent.”

“Woooow. Well, I’ll have you know, I have a great voice!” She certainly spoke lyrically. “Wait a minute, I didn’t know they hired people that young.” You pointed at her. “Okay, I’m in high school too. But that’s different, idols start this age.”

“I guess. I’ve been making music ever since I was a kid, and they liked what I had,” you said and Jiwoo nodded in understanding.

She fluttered her eyebrows. “Sooo, is that mango ice cream for me? Oppa?” A little surprised she already called you that, but it sounded right.

“No, I have this unopened strawberry-” Jiwoo snatched the half-eaten cold treat from your hand, and started licking it. Trouble she would be.

You spent many recording sessions together, alone after all the other members left. She cozied up to you because her little musical snippets had to become full-fledged tracks and you helped her out every time.

Something changed over the years however. Your interactions became colder. It felt like you were the only one who she would respond to in a deeper voice. Jiwoo wouldn't pepper you with silly acts or mess around. Maybe she took you more seriously which is how you managed to make more songs together regardless. Then, you stood idly by and watched her debut. Who didn't love her? But when she was with you, you missed the playfulness, the ice cream and her riffing over your playful guitar strums. It turned less of a hobby and more of a job though you never regretted any second with Jiwoo regardless.

Under the Earth's largest natural satellite, you shared a simple meal in black bean noodles. She was still in her hippie outfit from the comeback, and you handed her your jacket since it was cold. You realized, there was something else there that you were too inexperienced to notice. Your bodies' radiation replace the chill in the air, a bubble with just the two of you eating on the grass in a park near your dorm. A cliche slurping on one noodle and Jiwoo pulled away. In embarrassment, like a damn anime character, she hiccuped. Good thing you didn't close your eyes when you leaned in.

“Wanna make an album together?” Jiwoo says.

“Sure.”

You threw away the noodles’ package and escorted her home. That was all you expected anyway. Fine.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

“That’s enough!”

Three goddamn weeks. It's been three goddamn weeks and you've barely made any progress.

Barge into the booth, slam the door shut and raise your tone, just below a shout, “I've had it up to here! You know how many of my songs have been mashed together in some unholy quest for your perfection? Just one unknown something is missing and either you start complaining or we move on to the next."

She backs up from the mic to the insulated wall but you continue, paying no heed to her, as you spout your piece to the artificially cold air, "You know how much time I’ve spent outside working on these songs? These are songs I’ve saved up over years. And you trash them like they’re nothing. How do you even manage to record LOONA tracks?”

Regret sinks in. This was your passion project as much as hers. Was it frustration from the recordings? Weeks of the same routine and it took until now for you to give in to your temper.

"It wouldn't even be that bad! If you could just one time, you could be cute or cheerful again with me, or,” Fuck. So stupid. You don’t have to take your friendships for granted like this. You’re lucky enough she treats you as much. “Hold on. Wait, I'm-"

Examine her face. It’s not sour and she hasn’t stormed out or even slapped you.

“No, no. You don’t have to say it. I’m. I’m sorry oppa.” She looks down. “I'm the one messing up after all." Her heartbeat a harsh snare drum. "And you. You're. Different. Looking at you always made me feel some, something funny. Not funny but? Ugh. I wish I could explain it.”

You hold in your confusion.

She blabbers on, “Like, are. Are you mad? I promise you, I,” A nervous breath, ”I like you. Okay?"

Your confusion grows like the length of your silence.

"I’m just acting how I really am with you. Do you want to maybe, I don't know, like," her voice decrescendos, "Um. Punish me?”

Your heart, your brain are deprived of blood as it all rushes down. Did you hear that right? Not an apology, not retribution, but a call to punishment? Misinterpreting her, the consequences would be dire but that damned demure tone for such an erotic request. Was Jiwoo the exact type of slut constructed in your mind? The one that made you feel sinful for even imagining. No, no, there's no way.

Too late. Jiwoo must have noticed the absurd bulge now. It had to be these Adidas pants today. Fuck it. Life can’t be lived fully without risk. Hopefully, the same switch turned in her mind. You remove all ire from your face and say in earnest, “Do you like games?"

She lights up a little. You sigh relieved.

"Let’s try…”, you say, ”Strip recording.” She lights up a little more, so you go on, ”If I mess up anything, the mix, the composition, the arrangement, I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Your choice. And every time you mess up-”

Jiwoo unbuttons her denim shorts and brings them down her tight legs.

“D- did I say now?”

However, with her resolve steeled, she continues pulling them. "So what? I did mess up, right?" she says coquettish. Deliberate the turn she makes when she bows down to remove the shorts from her legs, Jiwoo reveals a hint of her innie pussy on that same little ass that ran through your mind earlier. A small trace of her thighs glistens, the only thing reflecting the single lightbulb’s glow in the microphone’s abode. She turns back to face you. "Please. Punish me."

Step closer until Jiwoo backs up to the soundproofing. She’s an eighth note away from your face, flashing her beady eyes and a coy smile, ”Where's your underwear?" A little drop spills out onto the floor, "And why are you so wet, Jiwoo-ah?”

Red on her cheeks, like she only now realized her dishevelment in front of you. “You just… Something about you snapping at me. I don’t get it either. I knew you'd do it, some day, I wanted you to," she mumbles in her best efforts to answer you.

“Have you ever worn underwear to the recordings?”

Those efforts continue to fail.

"Oh, Kim Jiwoo. What do I do with you?" One of your hands grabs her cheek. The other crawls down her back to grab her cheek.

“Oppa… Do I have to say it?”

“I want to hear every." Smack. "Word." Smack. She slips a moan.

“Can you," she says, "can you use my mouth?”

You disguise your long pause as thought, teasing the bare skin of her ass with your exploratory fingers to bide time, but it's an expression of your shock. The interruption helps you come up with a more suitable punishment however.

“How about this then. Every time you mess up, you have to give me a blowjob. Call?”

“Call!” Once more, unprompted, she kneels down in front of you and claws away your track pants. You roll with the punches.

"Oppaa," with an pronounced pop and in a sing-songy rhythm, "I've always wanted to know, if your dick-" It certainly didn't need Jiwoo's dainty hands pulling on your boxers, as it would've sprang out on its own with how like diamond your cock is getting.

"Fuuuck," the first profanity you ever hear her utter, she lilts. "Please. Oppa. Fuck my face?"

After all she said, she could still surprise you. Bring your hips forward and just as you would've her pussy, tease Jiwoo’s lips with the head of your dick. She parts them open, starved, anxious.

Hold her by the chin. "Wait."

She freezes at the command. Again, like foreplay, rub her lips with that head making them turn redder and more plump. You sweep aside her bangs to see her begging eyes. More importantly, slide your dick up to her nude forehead to slap as a first act of retribution. “A-ah!” Jiwoo stutters as you slap her face with your manhood again and again. Bring your cock back down and she's already a mess without you even having entered her mouth. A little drool from her shut lips gently massages your balls while a bit of precum drools from your slit to meet those lips.

Jiwoo mumbles as best as she can with you holding her jaw shut and your dick on her lips, "Please. Please. Shove your dick in me. I need you in my mouth."

You squint your rough eyes to command her.

Muffled still, "Oppa. Please. I. I need to taste you. You just, you're so thick and you're so long and cock is perfect and please I just-" Loosen the grip on her chin to let her envelop the entire tip with her warm lips. "Mmmmm..." the moan resonates a saw wave and your stern resolve fades away on your first entrance into her face but it returns as her teeth rub against you. She quickly readjusts her jaw but it takes multiple attempts of you pulling out and her sucking you back until only silken lips hold your cock's head. Finally. A focused glint in her eyes. She endeavours to keep your tip in her mouth as long as possible.

You were mad at her earlier, weren't you?

Recall this anger and press yourself into her with all your hips' strength, working against the force of her lip's airtight suction. Saliva leaks to betray the seal. Jiwoo's prying tongue explores the underside of your cock but you reach an impasse while she's not even halfway down the shaft. You shove your dick deeper but to no avail and tears roll down her eyes joining the fluids coating her lips. Thus you exit back out. And back in you go to repeat and repeat and slowly increase your rate, becoming rough sex with her diligent mouth. All the positions you’ve imagined fucking her little pussy, you picture using her throat instead. Even in this compact studio, the couch, chair and desk would provide ample support for you to use her in many ways. The dirty thoughts inspire your speed right now. She slurps and gulps at every quick plunge but you realize her moans and rumbles aren't just incoherent reactions. You decelerate.

“Ah, ahhh, ahhhhhh… Ah’ve ahways- Hmph.” She slurs as she tries her hardest to communicate while her airway is blocked.

She slides up your cock to catch some air, “Thought about it- Mmm.”

“Your dick in my mouth and it’s just so pew, fect- Ahhh.” Jiwoo's lips let go gently then her tongue sticks out to lick up your cock and she shows off a trail of spit leading to your tip. A less patient man would’ve jerked himself off right there to grant her eyes and open mouth's unison request to feed on your cum.

Instead you retort, “You think you’ve earned it? Not even halfway down. Going nowhere, just like our recording sessions, huh?”

“Shut up!”

“Oof.” You’re already weak in the knees so Jiwoo's one handed shove sends your tailbone to the floor. Since you’re still dazed by her confounding strength, she takes initiative and kowtows her head into your lap to crawl down your cock with her tiny lips. Fondling your balls, Jiwoo starts from the furthest point she could muster on your shaft up to your cock head. Her tongue follows back and she starts playing under your tip to swirl that tongue around the most sensitive parts until it explores your slit. You buckle and groan. Jiwoo sucks and spits and sucks while she circles only the most minimal twisting motion of her lips on your head. This is the Jiwoo you know. Relentless. Only now your load is her magnus opus.

Her right hand strays downwards and her face on your dick blocks a full view but you can tell that hand is working as intensely as her mouth. As she strokes herself with more vigor, she starts humming a satisfied melody on your tip. In kind, your subtle grunts turn into full-bodied moans. You're a single measure away from your coda so you reach down and pull her off your cock by grabbing her neck.

You glare into her. “Desperate little girl, aren't you?”

Her breath is stilted and she's nearly shaking. “Please…” she sobs, ”You, you want it as bad as I do right?” Of course. “Won't you just cum for me?” Not now. Not when you have putty in your hands.

“You're making a mess. You can't take me all the way down. And I see that it’s not just your saliva coating the floor.” Point to the spot where she kneels, her drool joins a stain growing ever larger with a strand of juice from her pussy flowing as you continue to berate her. Then you point to her hand. Ha. “Were you playing with yourself using my pencil?”

“No… Wait!”

You back off. “Your top’s a mess too. Anyone can tell I just fucked your face.” You take off your black hoodie and give it to her. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our next session.”

“Wait, we didn’t book tomorrow, did we? Also, you can’t just leave me like this! Oppa!”

"I said, I'll see you tomorrow. I have to go,“ you remind her, ”Ha Rin’s picking you up. And give me back that pencil.”

She hands it to you, unable to meet your eyes despite hers lusting over your cock. You'll definitely use the alluring musk on it for later to save you from your self-induced blue balls. Exit the booth. Of course she barely waits to use your hoodie the same way since she doesn’t notice you lingering in the room. Instead of hiding the grey long sleeve that soaks her neck, your used sweatshirt covers Jiwoo’s face as her fingers make the mess on the floor larger.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Swear to god I’m not just writing the cutest idols to write for. I mean maybe I am but also this answer from @nsfwtwicecatcher and all the subsequent pictures that I found of Chuu pouting inspired me. Also, this was a longer piece but I kept spinning my tires on it and decided to split it up, so look out for more.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Fermata, the aforementioned sequel

#kpop smut #loona smut #male reader #reader insert #title tracks

307 notes · View notes

dclsbaby · 3 years ago

Text

traitor - Dominic Calvert-Lewin 🦋

Summary: you reflect on your relationship, realised you've been wronged and should've trusted your gut

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2.1k

masterlist

Brown guilty eyes and,

Little white lies,

I played dumb, but I always knew

That you talked to her, maybe did even worse

I kept quiet so I could keep you

It’s his green-hazel eyes that dissipate every logic, every sense of reason you had. It’s the way he would roll over to your side of the bed each morning to savour another 5 minutes before he has to leave, that made you feel yearned for and wanted. It’s the lingering kisses on your neck, on each shoulder and collarbone, that convinced you you’re the only one. It’s the grand dreams shared with you about your future together, filled with kids and their tiny jerseys, that made you believe his little white lies.

You had ignored the tingling sensation in the pit of your stomach that felt nothing like the butterflies you experienced on your first date with Dom. The feeling told you to succumb to your suspicions and unlock his phone, scroll through his messages and social media interactions. No, the feeling demanded you to swipe his phone, lock yourself in the bathroom, overstep boundaries, and find evidence of another woman. But that wasn’t who you are. You respected boundaries, and decided against it. You loved him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.

The paranoia began to grow when you noticed the little things, such as the way he would put his phone screen-side down on the counter, or the way he brought it everywhere like it’s a part of him, even in the bathroom, or that he wouldn’t leave its sight when it's being charged. Then, these signs started getting stronger and more frequent. He’d get phone calls when you’re having dinner and every time you ask who it is, you’re always met with, “No one important enough to take me away from you,” and a kiss to suppress your suspicions.

Does he have anything to hide? You often ask yourself. Do I really want to know? Another voice asks.

You knew, deep down, that your gut was right. You knew what was happening behind your back.

It’s always the girl they tell you not to worry about.

You were first introduced to her one evening at a club event. Dom referred to her as the ‘girl with the magic hands’, to which you cringed at the innuendo. That was the first warning sign you ignored. Although shortly after exchanging names, you learned that she works at the training ground as a masseuse. Magic hands, makes sense, you thought. It did not make you feel better though.

You could see her appeal. You could imagine Dom and his teammates steal a glance, their eyes lingering much longer than they should. You could hear the locker room talk, words of adoration spilling from their mouths. Her charm is magnetising. She’s bubbly, she’s awfully kind. But did she really have to look like she could be on the cover of Playboy circa 2004 too? Though her beauty’s not your lack, it did not help with your brewing paranoia.

You can’t help but think she’s the reason he’s been staying back late at the training ground, why he comes home wearing a different shirt to the one he left with in the morning, and why he doesn’t talk about his day much anymore, as it probably mostly consisted of being lathered up in oil and getting sensual massages by a hot masseuse. The thought always made you sick to your stomach.

The overthinking had convinced you he had been seeing another woman right in front of you this whole time. But pretending that everything’s alright was so much easier than the inevitable confrontation, the accusation, the fight, the ending. So you kept quiet so you could keep him, and live in the false fairytale you try so hard to become reality.

Until you couldn't anymore.

—

And ain't it funny how you ran to her

The second that we called it quits?

And ain't it funny how you said you were friends?

Now it sure as hell don't look like it

You and Dom stayed friends after your relationship ran its course, for the first couple of weeks, at least. The days leading up to the break up were plagued with arguments over the little things like missing dinner plans and not keeping the room tidy, which led to bigger fights where you accused him of not being in love with you. Of course, he vehemently denied this, but you thought he didn’t fight for you enough. He didn’t push back, he didn’t give you a reason to stay, and that was enough for you to know that your relationship never stood a chance. You could handle disagreements and a few fights, but when you’ve been led to question your own worth—it’s done.

In the end, it was a mutual break up. It made sense, he needed to focus on his football and the constant fights weren’t helping his concentration. It was hard for him to leave each morning knowing you both went to bed angry, and although he would spend the drive home practicing his apologies, he would come home to find you fast asleep in bed before he could even make amends. As for you, well, you had to look for love elsewhere.

All seemed well until he turned more and more sour by the day. Sure, you didn’t expect to be glued to his hip at all times, or be the best of friends—you two broke up for a reason. But what you did not expect were the bitter remarks, the one-word replies, the sarcastic comments that portrayed the antithesis of who he was when he was with you.

Now you bring her around just to shut me down

Show her off like she's a new trophy

And I know if you were true

There's no damn way that you

Could fall in love with somebody that quickly

It all made sense when you began receiving texts from your friends attached with a photo of him with a young fan. You thought it was odd, why were you sent pictures of your ex with a fan, of all things? But there she was, in the background of the photo. Of course. Of course it was her.

More pictures started coming through of both of them in his black Range Rover driving around town, having coffee at your favourite coffee shop. You curse at him, now you have to find a new place to get your coffee. The pictures that stung the most were of the pair of them driving to the training centre together. Imagine the sight of a new couple in town pulling onto the Finch Farm carpark. You knew it wasn’t just a friendly carpool. She’s been staying on my side of the bed, you thought. Meanwhile, you’re still seeking the warmth from his side of the bed.

It dawned on you how much of a fool you’ve been. You feel angry for not trusting your gut, for letting yourself get played, for letting yourself take the beatings from people who had accused you for being with him for his money when it was you who was taken advantage of. If the love he had for you was true, it wouldn’t have taken him that quickly to find someone new.

—

You sat on your sofa for hours. Waiting to feel something other than numbness, the tingling sensation on the tip of your fingers from the shock is no longer there. The numbness eventually turned to chills, so you reach for a blanket in the woven basket next to the sofa. You wrap yourself into a cocoon, though all you wanted was to be a butterfly, spread your wings, and fly away. Pathetic. Even my metaphors remind me of him.

Feeling sorry for yourself, you sluggishly stood up and dragged your body to the kitchen and pulled out three different bottles of alcohol from the cupboard—ignoring what a senior had told you in uni to never mix alcohol unless you want to get absolutely wasted. You grab the glass from the top shelf, a cocktail shaker that came with the set your friend had got you for a secret santa gift, and make yourself a drink. One drink turned to two, to three. Then, you started watching recipe videos on YouTube on how to make a pornstar martini, which led to another two. 5 drinks in total. Lucky number 5.

After making a mess on the kitchen island, feeling delirious, you stumble across your flat, bumping a table on your way back to the living room, leaving a bruise on your hip that will hurt in the morning. The alcohol running through your veins giving you the urge to belt out a ballad and pour your heart out, so you somehow managed to open your music and play a song.

Don’t you think I loved you too much to be used and discarded?

Don’t you think I loved you too much to think I deserve nothing?

You belted every word, not caring if your neighbours could hear you drunkenly sing the words to a depressing ballad about not being enough for a boy.

Realising with what’s left of your consciousness that your balance is becoming unsteady, you stagger your way to your bedroom, extending your arms, careful to not run yourself into any walls.

Upon reaching your bedroom, you undress yourself into just a bra and underwear and dive face first into your made up bed, curl up under the warm covers, and blankly stare at the ceiling. The lights appear as though it’s duplicating with every blink—you could’ve sworn there were only two.

With each passing second, you begin having flashbacks of him. Images of the bedroom you once shared which looks nothing like the room you’re in now tattooed in your brain. Whispers of “I love you,” and “you’re the love of my life,” haunt you as you try to shut your ears with your hands, desperate to rid of his voice. You feel angrier and angrier by the minute, waves of sadness taking over your body. You wanted him to know how you felt. You wanted him to know how badly he’s hurt you, something your sober self would never admit.

So you do what your gut tells you, no sense of reason in the way to stop you from unlocking your phone, scrolling until you’ve reached ‘D’ on your contact list, and clicking the name you’re looking for.

*ring*

Pick up.

*ring*

You asshole, pick up.

*ring*

Fuck this, I—

“Hello,” a hoarse voice answers. You inhale a sharp breath.

His voice. The exact voice you hear every morning at 6:45am as he kisses you goodbye.

“You, you betrayed me,” you slurred as you made your way to your bedroom. He takes the phone off his ear to look at the Caller ID again, squinting at the bright light. “(Y/N)? Are you okay?” Dom jolted at your voice, the concern in his voice ever so clear, afraid that you might not be okay.

“And I know that you'll never feel sorry for the way I hurt,” your speech slows down with every syllable, ignoring his question. The sound of his breath tickles your ear, making you squirm a little. On the other line, there he was, awake from his sleep, listening silently to your drunken voice, his heart breaking all over again. “(Y/N), have you been drinking?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“You talked to her when we were together,” finally throwing the accusation you never would’ve said to his face. He finally put together why you were not yourself towards the end of the relationship, you were convinced he was cheating on you. “I never—it has always been you, only you,” you ignore him. “I promise”, he whispers softly, trying to convince you with what’s left of his heart. He wants you to believe him so badly, but he doesn't know what else to say. Pain revisits him each time he tries to convince you that you’re the only one he’s ever been in love with.

“Loved you at your worst, but that didn't matter,” you laugh humourlessly, remembering all the times you wanted to be assured, to be convinced that you were the only one, but his actions suggest otherwise and your paranoia ate you alive. He didn't fight for you even when it was the last straw.

“You gave me your word,” alluding to each time he would tell you that no one else compares to you, each time he made promises about your future together. “It took you two weeks to go off and date her”, you accuse him. “I’m not with anyone,” he says under his breath, knowing you’re too drunk to remember what he says.

“(Y/N)?” Dom asks when he couldn’t hear anything from your end. “Please, can we talk, I—“ “God, I wish that you had thought this through,” you cut him off, your eyes getting heavier by the second, “before I went and fell in love with you”.

There it was. The sentence that ripped him to shreds. The idea that you might have regretted him, regretted being in love with him broke him to bits. He hadn’t realised the damage he’d done during your relationship, and what he did after your break up was unnecessary. He knew what it would look like, to be seen out with her. But he did it anyway to hurt you.

After consuming way too much alcohol, your body feels it’s full effect as your phone slips from your hand and you cave into your tired body.

He hears a loud thump on the other line.

“(Y/N)? Are you there? I—I still love you, can you hear me?”

Line’s dead.

Guess you didn't cheat, but you're still a traitor.

#dominic calvert lewin #dominic calvert lewin imagine #dominic calvert lewin imagines #football imagine #dclsbaby

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malfoymanortings · 4 years ago

Text

lavender and velvet //part three

SUMMARY: she had her fathers eyes, his aristocratic looks, her grandmothers spite, her mothers heart, but the one thing she didn't have was the love of her father that her god brother received. juliet black finally meets her father who has already decided who his child is.

PAIRINGS: to be decided.

WARNINGS: mentions of drug use.

enjoy!

Juliet coughed loudly, pressing a hand to her chest. She shook her head as George laughed, taking the bong from her.

“Looks like Juliet’s the little bitch tonight,” he teased, nudging her with his knee.

She flipped him off, still coughing from the large hit she had taken. Fred laughed, sprawled out on the bed.

“Come on now Georgie, let’s not tease our princess,” chuckled Fred, a teasing grin on his face. “Let’s just be grateful she prefers this over lines.”

“I’m versatile, Freddie.” joked Juliet, taking a gulp of her glass of water.

The three continued passing around the bong, until their limbs were fuzzy and their eyes were red. Fred stayed on the bed, while George sat on the floor with Juliet, who was leaning against him. She had her eyes shut, relishing in the feeling she had missed.

Remus wasn’t fond of her smoking, but he never strictly forbade it. She supposed that would be hypocritical of him, considering he partok in it himself. Only after a full moon, he would claim, but she could smell it from his bedroom just about every other day. Either way, he wasn’t here now to chastise her.

“All I’m saying is, we should explore space ourselves,” blurted out George, startling Juliet and Fred, as it had been quiet for some time. “Could you imagine the properties of moon dust? Bet we could find a use for it. I bet it would make for a killer sleep potion.”

“Why’s that Georgie?” Fred questioned, rolling over so his head was hanging over the edge of the bed, his long red hair tickling Juliet’s arm. “You just assume it would make for a sleeping remedy just because it’s the moon?”

Juliet laughed as George turned to glare at Fred, his eyes wide. “Freddie. It’s the moon.”

“So with that line of thinking, venus would make for a love potion, right?” questioned Juliet, adjusting herself so she was lying on the floor, her head in George’s lap. “Because Venus is a goddess of love?”

George snapped his fingers, looking down at Juliet with a dopey grin on his face. “Someone gets it!”

“If anyone can figure out how to get to the moon it’ll be the two of you,” Juliet murmured, shutting her eyes as George lazily ran his fingers through her hair. “The smartest idiots I’ve ever met.”

“I would love to disagree with you, but I feel that compliment was high enough to overshadow the insult.” mused George, as Fred laughed.

A knock was heard on the door then, and George quickly pushed the bong under the bed, while Fred swished his wand, the haze and smell disappearing. Juliet sat up slowly, her mind foggy from her high. George and Fred had very high tolerances, she did not.

Ron poked his head through the door, his eyes narrowing. “What are you lot up to?”

Juliet couldn’t stop her laugh from tumbling out, a grin spreading across her face. George wrapped his arm around her, tucking her head into his chest. She inhaled deeply, loving the smell of fresh linen and cinnamon that seemed to be embedded in his clothes.

“Just discussing our future endeavors,” Fred grinned at Ron. “Care to join us?”

Ron shook his head, stepping away from the door. “Mum’s got dinner ready. She’s going to be right mad when she sees you lot.”

“Mum, mad at us?” George questioned innocently.

“Why would she ever be mad at us?” Fred finished, the twins glancing at each other in fake innocence.

“Blimey,” Ron rolled his eyes. “Your eyes are bloodshot. She isn’t stupid.”

“Well, ickle Ronniekins, you best run along now,” George shooed his brother away, waving one hand.

“We have to look presentable, don’t we?” Fred stood from the bed, walking over and shutting the door in Ron’s face.

“Molly’s made dinner?” questioned Juliet, suddenly ravenous. “I really hope there's mashed potatoes.”

“Your girlfriend’s going to blow our cover.” Fred muttered to George, smirking as he took a bite of a cream colored candy.

“Not my girlfriend, Freddie.” George reminded his brother, pulling out the same candy, handing one to Juliet.

She swallowed it whole, nearly choking as she did. Her eyes tingled for a moment, and her mind became slightly less hazy.

“You guys perfected your emergency chew?” Juliet asked as she stood, George giving her a hand.

“Had to, with the lack of privacy in our family.” Fred grinned, opening the door. “Ladies first, George.”

The three went down to dinner, which went fairly well. Ron, Hermione, and Harry kept giving the three of them funny looks, and Sirius also kept glancing at Juliet with an odd look as well. She found it bearable to get through dinner this time, ignoring how Sirius and Harry laughed with each other.

After dinner, everyone dispersed, Fred and George to go work on ideas for their joke shop, Ginny and Hermione to help Molly clean the foyer, Sirius to feed Buckbeak, Ron and Harry to do something. Juliet hadn’t paid much attention.

She found herself back in the Black family tree, sitting on the floor and writing a letter to Draco. It would be the first summer she hadn’t seen him or their friends, and she found herself missing them. Hopefully Draco was doing alright.

As she wrote the last line, she felt someone staring at her. She glanced up, brushing her hair behind her ear, to see Harry standing in the doorway looking as if he had made a mistake.

“Can you leave?” scowled Juliet, raising a brow.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Harry walked further in the room, glancing at the walls. “Are you still mad?”

“No,” Juliet scoffed, rolling her parchment up. “I just don’t want to talk to you.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Harry stated, crossing his arms as he looked down at her.

“Dramatic?” Juliet snapped, standing up from her spot on the floor.

“Yes,” insisted Harry. “Your dad loves you, he’s here, and you keep making this harder for him. For everyone.”

“Are you that much of a prat?” cried Juliet, throwing her arms out in frustration. “Do you even realize what you’ve done?”

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Juliet cut him off, stepping closer to him, invading his personal space.

“I’ve been waiting, years, for my dad to come back,” she breathed, her voice catching in her throat. “Turns out, he only came back for you. He isn’t yours! You are taking away the one thing I’ve ever wanted in my entire life. I used to dream about him coming back, and grew up on stories about him. Guess that wasn’t enough. He wanted you.”

“He wants you too!” Harry exclaimed, becoming heated. “I’m sorry it feels like I’m taking him from you. I never had a father. You had Remus, the Weasleys. Although I would never take your father from you, I’m not going to act like he isn’t there for me.”

“Get out,” Juliet said quietly, balling her fists up at her sides. “Get out!”

Harry left quickly, striding down the halls. Juliet sank back down to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. She rested her head on them, her long hair falling around her like a curtain. Tears burned her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She kept them shut, sniffling quietly to herself.

“Hey kiddo.”

She looked up to see Remus enter the room, his hands in his pockets as he walked over to her. He knelt down by her, sitting down with a grunt. He put an arm around her, rubbing her back.

Juliet lifted her head, wiping her eyes. She crossed her legs, leaning her head against Remus’ shoulder. He rested his head against hers for a second, before digging around in his pocket.

He handed her a chocolate frog, smiling when she laughed. “Chocolate makes everything better, eh?”

“According to you,” Juliet pointed out, unwrapping the frog and taking a bite. She got Dumbledore on her card as usual. “Thank you.”

“I know it’s hard,” Remus paused, taking the card and packaging from her, slipping it into his robes.. “And I’m not going to defend your father. However, I wanted to give you my thoughts on it, if that’s alright.”

Juliet nodded, chewing her chocolate.

“As I’ve told you many times before,” Remus began, ruffling her hair. “Sirius and James were best friends. Your father lived with him for quite awhile, when he ran away from here. He spent twelve years in Azkaban, reliving his worst memories over and over again. He finally got out, and Harry saved him. He owes a great deal to Harry for saving his life. I think, sometimes, it’s difficult for him to separate James from Harry.”

“So you think he’s mental?” Juliet looked at him, doubtful.

“He spent a long time alone,” Remus shrugged, glancing down at her. “Dementors were his only company. I think that’s enough to make anyone a bit touched. Just.. try not to be so hostile.”

“It’s part of my charm, dad,” Juliet murmured, shrugging her shoulders. Remus smiled at her, ruffling her hair again. “It’s my Slytherin sparkle.”

“Not this again,” Remus groaned, standing up and holding a hand out to her. “That same Slytherin sparkle that had you charm every room in the house green? That had you attempt to keep a pet snake? And dye my hair green and silver?”

“The silver highlights looked dashing against the green,” she defended herself, taking his hand and letting him pull her up. “Also, Cornflake didn’t last long. How was I supposed to know garden snakes shouldn’t be house pets?”

“Garden snake,” Remus grumbled, shaking his head. “Thing was nearly an anaconda.”

“That’s just your memory going.” clarified Juliet, placing her parchment into the pocket of her robes.

Remus nudged her shoulder as they left the room, laughing. They walked into the living room, where the Weasley’s, Hermione, and Harry were busy attacking Doxies. Juliet raised an eyebrow at Fred when he slipped one into his pocket, slapping George’s hand.

“Brought you another helper, Molly,” Remus motioned towards Juliet, winking as she gave him a look.

“Thanks,” she muttered under her breath, pressing her letter into his hand. “Can you send this to Draco for me?”

Remus nodded, ruffling her hair once more before saying his goodbyes. Juliet joined the cleaning task, spraying the doxies until there was none left. They began taking the bags of various dead creatures out of the room, everyone filing out until Juliet and Harry were left behind to grab the final three bags.

“Harry,” Juliet addressed him, nodding his way. He paused, and looked at her warily. “I don’t want to keep fighting with you. I understand it’s not your fault. It’s just hard for me to see my father prefer you over me.”

Harry looked as if he were going to say something, thought better of it, and nodded. “I’d like it if we could spend more than five minutes together without going at it.”

Juliet scoffed, giving him a small grin. “I wouldn’t go that far, Potter. Can’t lose my edge, now, can I? Draco would absolutely die if we became friendly.”

“Is that a downside?” Harry quipped back, smiling to soften his words.

“Potter has jokes?” Juliet mused, taking a bag of dead rats. “Keep that up around Draco, it’ll keep him on his toes.”

Harry laughed, and they left the room with the last two bags, leaving a clean room behind them. Harry kept their conversation going, surprising the Weasleys and Hermione, who had been expecting the two to tear each other's throats out.

Perhaps, Juliet thought, Harry wasn’t so bad.

one

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taglist: @person1839 @treblebeth @big-galaxy-chaos

just shoot me a message if you would like to be added to the taglist! xx

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bnhascenario · 3 years ago

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Body swap with our adorable Kiri maybe..? :D

Gotcha :DD

*sorry for the earlier post btw, I clicked on the wrong ask TvT*

~~~

Your eyelids parted slowly with obvious reluctance, a crabby sigh leaving your lips as you propped your frame up stiffly into a seated position--only to receive an unwelcoming greeting by the very source of your unfortunate situation: the flashy rays of dawn impertinently intruding in from the uncovered window frames before you.

It was quite clear, you had been awakened from your slumber without consent.

The reveal of every student being able to enjoy the privilege of a personal window within their own quarters of the newly-established UA dormitory had excited you so much, yet in this current situation you could no longer seem to recall such joy. Though to be fair: you had already been suffering from a severe lack of sleep in the past few days due to what felt like a never-ending load of school work, not to mention an urgent need for relaxation no thanks to the aching sores and fatigue that were mere consequences from the frankly brutal hero training sessions--and to top it all off, your much anticipated plans for the day to sleep in were now effectively ruined.

You let out another sigh, this time one expressing a tone of resignation, and with commendable resolution departed from the white sheets of bliss that were so soothingly enveloping your frame with comfort.

You were doing this all to be a great hero, afterall. And you had to uphold a certain promise to a rather special someone.

‘(Y/n), let’s promise to become amazing heroes together!’

An impulse to smile had unconsciously translated across your features just from the recollection of that one memory you held dearly of a redheaded male; with a motion of fond happiness, the corners of your lips were inching upwards without you even realising.

‘That’s a given, Kirishima-kun! I’d better see you there, too!’

With leisurely dawdling steps, you neared the glass structure to peek out into the outside world, a hand absent-mindedly reaching out to stroke the curtains that were neatly tied to its sides. Despite your earlier annoyance, you couldn’t deny it was indeed a beautiful day--and you rarely had the chance to fully take in the scene of the early morning sun in all its glory given how busy your schedule always was. Since you were already up, you might as well make the best out of it, right? Maybe Kirishima’s positive attitude really was contagious.

Still--it was quite unbelievable that you had made such an amateur blunder, especially with your unwavering determination the previous night to have a good rest; your palms were still preoccupied with the crimson-tinted velvet material, almost as if it were in a trance and couldn’t let go; perhaps you were still half-asleep. The texture was rough unlike its appearance, yet it also felt soft and calming to the touch. Funnily enough, this description reminded you a little too much of the very same schoolmate you had just been thinking about.

It really was strange though, the more you thought about it. You were almost a hundred percent sure you had set down your curtains...so why--

Wait a minute.

Your form had suddenly frozen in place quite abruptly, all movements coming to a firm halt as nothing but the function of your eyes seemed to work anymore; gingerly, your orbs moved from the arrangement of drapes that now appeared so unfamiliar, ever so slowly back to the transparent surface right in front of your visage...

Only that now you realised, it was most definitely not your face looking right back; it was an undeniably recognisable appearance you were so used to seeing, but it wasn’t yours.

Wasn’t this--Kirishima’s face?

“Eh?”

Somehow, the boy’s striking appearance had managed to find its way into serving as your reflection on the window, his handsome features now contorting unnaturally in a mixture of horror and disbelief, along with a deepening complexion of flustered red, accurately mirroring the very emotions that were currently plaguing you.

Maybe you really were asleep.

Yeah, that was it right? Just a--nice, funny dream.

Yet, you had also unwillingly took notice of how real everything felt; from the unusual rigidity of your body that you never experienced, no matter how grueling the day had been, to the unexpected tone of heavy deepness that had erupted from your earlier exclamation--no, you had to be mistaken somehow.

Right, you would wake up soon, and remember how real these sensations were, and you would maybe tell your friends and have a good laugh about it.

...Except you weren’t waking up, and you weren’t in your own room on your own bed, and you still felt very much awake.

“...Kirishima-kun...?” the voice you used came out in a trembling whisper, almost barely audible to even your own consciousness. But you had definitely heard it--the voice you had used, that did not belong to you.

“Y-yeah...” the scarlet that were now supposedly yours widened at the abrupt interruption that had cut into the deafeningly loud silence of the atmosphere, disrupting your dazed state; you had been so engrossed in thought that the sound of the room door opening hadn’t even reached your senses--though you turned to its direction with a sentiment of hopeful eagerness, rather than that of annoyance.

Since, that was your voice; the voice that rightfully belonged to you.

Sure enough, it was you--only it wasn’t actually you.

For even though he was presented in a different guise, you would always be able to recognise him--how could you not, when you treasured him so closely to your heart?

It was a surreal occurrence, gazing back at the face you had become so accustomed to identifying as your own from an external point of view. Though the expression your form was currently exhibiting was not one of your own: it was an endearingly charming grin only unique to one individual, someone that you had come to love and care for so much.

“Y-you okay...? I think we’re kind of in a pickle, hahaha...”

This really wasn’t a dream.

#boku no hero academia #bnha #scenarios #kirishima eijirou #kirishima x reader #x-reader #body-swap

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elsanna-shenanigans · 3 years ago

Text

June Contest Submission #4: Flash Point

Words: ca. 5,500 Setting: mAU Lemon: yes CW: swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of hunting, weed, tobacco

Why was it so damn hot?

The Sun bore down with unusual cruelty, and the air was so heavy it felt damp against her skin, too thick to breathe, and if the dog at the other end of the leash she was holding’s panting was anything to go by, Anna was not alone in her feeling. They hadn’t even gone far, yet the Vizsla was pulling towards a shaded patch of grass and plopping down with a little whine.

“I’m not carrying you home, so you better hurry before it gets really hot,” she grumbled. On the other hand she couldn’t exactly blame him. She’d spent the last five years studying abroad, two years in Oslo and three at Uppsala University. The Scandinavian Summers were comparatively cool and mild when contrasted to the hot, humid Summers so typical of the Eastern part of the North American continent. Her dog was born in Europe, and at the ripe old age of 3, had quite literally never known such high temperatures.

“Tűz, fot!”

The dog lifted his head to look at her then let out a noise of complaint before he got up and very slowly made his way to a heel position, looking forlorn. She chuckled a little at how dramatic he was being and gave him a gentle pat.

“Duktig hund!“

A crown of dew formed around her temples and coated her shoulders and her neck. Given it was only 8:30 am, she dreaded to think what the rest of the day would be like. At least, she figured, her parents and the rest of her family likely wouldn’t want to leave the cool respite of the central AC.

She quickened her step at the prospect, hurrying back to the modest house her sister had began renting sometime after Anna had left for Europe. As much as she adored her parents, she’d been overjoyed when Elsa asked her to stay with her, and she’d been eager to make up for lost time. Of all the things she’d missed while studying, her older sister was what she’d missed most, leading her to question whether it was possible to be homesick for a person.

As she walked through the door, she found Elsa in the kitchen, frantically shoving a granola bar into her bag, along with a sandwich and some gatorade. Without looking up, she reached for her car keys and brushed passed Anna, only pausing briefly to kiss her forehead and mumble “good morning” which immediately drew a smile on Anna’s lips.

“Got everything?”

“Yeah I think I left most of Tűz’s stuff in the car.”

“Alright, let’s go.”

-x.x.x-

The drive to their parents place was a little over 20 minutes, but fortunately brought Elsa a little closer to the work errands she had ro run that day. Anna was a little bummed she wouldn’t be spending most of the day with her, but took comfort in the fact she’d come join them as soon as possible. Her eyes studied the edges of Elsa’s cheekbones, admiring her chiseled features, and the way the stray strands of blond escaping from her messy braid framed her face. Anna hoped that she had thought of applying sunscreen before leaving, though she somehow doubted it, given how hectic she’d been just before they’d left.

“Is it okay if I don’t take you all the way down?”

Pulled out of her reverie, it took her a moment to process the meaning of the question, until she remembered her older sister was referring to the downhill driveway that led to their parent’s house.

“Oh sure! I forgot how tricky it is to turn around and come back up from there.”

“How could you forget you very nearly wrecked the paint job on dad’s brand spanking new car?”

Anna cringed with embarrassment at the memory, but a reassuring ruffling of her hair cued her in on the affectionate nature of the teasing. The car stopped and Elsa turned to face her with a soft smile.

“I’ll try to be quick ok? I’ll text you as soon as I know when I can come meet you.”

“Okay, I’m pretty sure we aren’t going very far in this weather anyhow.”

The car’s thermometer indicated an outside temperature of 37°C at the moment and she had a sense the felt temperature would only get worse. She grimaced, until Elsa reached over to hug her. She twisted in her seat, reaching to embrace her, leaning in to give her a quick peck on the cheek, only to find they were both leaning in the same direction with the same idea. She readjusted, and so did Elsa, so they both course corrected once more, this time fully confident that she’d accomplish her task at hand. In their hurry to affectionately see each other off, the momentum they’d gained was too strong to brake, and somehow they both landed smack dab in the middle, their lips colliding in a soft peck.

Anna felt a little spark and let out a giggle, shared by Elsa who immediately looked up at the ceiling of her car, mortified, but unable to shake the wry smile of amusement.

“Nothing like a little accidental incest to get your day going huh?”

She shook her head and reached up to tuck a strand of hair back behind Elsa’s ear, shrugging nonchalantly, genuinely amused because what else could you do at such a ridiculous situation? An accidental kiss, with her older sister warranted laughs, and she was sure the rest of the family would find it hilarious when she’d tell them.

“It’s just like that Folgers commercial: the best part of wakin’ up, is incest in your cup.”

There was a glint of mischievous amusement in her eye, in spite of the sheepish grin, almost apologetic for what she had just said (rather than what she had done).

“Dear lord, Anna, just take your dog and go. At the very least this day can only improve as I’ve just hit rock bottom.”

Doing as she was told, she got out of the car, retrieving her dog from the back seat along with their belongings before she turned to Elsa, offering her a bright smile, the hint of a smirk still lingering in amusement.

“Bye, I love you, drive safely!”

“I love you too, see you later.”

She watched as the car pulled back up to the top of the hill, waiting for it to disappear, just long enough to feel the weight of the heat begin to crush her, Sun searing her skin with eager malice. Anna turned to look downwards, recognizing the solar panels on either side of the roof, and the glass roof of the integrated green house. It felt so familiar to her, and as she walked towards it, it gave her a sense of comfort even if it no longer really was home.

Subconsciously she reached up with her fingertips tracing her lower lip where the ghostly sensation of the peck crackled with electricity, forcing a little quirk of her mouth as the thought of it tickled her. How funny, she pondered, that she’d felt more from an accidental kiss with her sister than she’d had the last time she’d kissed someone. If that wasn’t the most obvious indicator of lack of chemistry, she didn’t know what was!

Knocking on the door she couldn’t wait to catch her parents up on this, tell them about the mishap, and couldn’t wait to see who amongst their relatives would have joined them for Anna’s welcoming home party.

However, when her mother opened the door and embraced her tight, prompting excited tail wags and jumping from her dog, and asking her how she was, Anna found herself unable to speak it, suddenly second-guessing whether Elsa would appreciate her telling them, and wondering if it would come across as weird after all, rather than strictly funny. She couldn’t shake the feeling, and wasn’t sure why.

A while later, the moment had passed with relentless overthinking on her part and even still as she drank coffee and ate croissants with her mother, father, her uncle and her cousin, the sensation of the spark lingered on her lips, leaving her flustered with butterflies at the thought of her older sister’s mouth.

That thought was soon cast aside however as her dog tried climbing into her lap which prompted her uncle to ask her about him.

“What kind of dog is that?”

Though the breed was becoming more prevalent in North America and increasingly popular with hunters it wasn’t quite as well spread in Canada as it was in the USA.

“Tűz is a Vizsla.”

“Gesundheit.”

She rolled her eyes, wanting to correct

“It’s a Hungarian Pointer breed. Pretty ancient, excellent and versatile gun dogs. I had him evaluated by a trainer in Sweden who said he was a natural bird dog. His name means ‘fire’, in Hungarian.”

Even as she was listing out her boy’s illustrious origins she figured it likely sounded just the slightest bit improbable to her uncle Frederic, given how said majestic hunter was currently curled up in her lap with his front paws on her shoulders.

“Huh. Y’know nothing beats a good Lab in my opinion but he sure is cute. He even looks like you, redhead and all!”

“Y’hear that? Uncle Fred thinks you’re cute! Don’t tell him you could outrun his lab in upland hunting any day.”

She turned to give her dog a little kiss on the cheek, but her mind immediately went back to the tingling she felt there, which seemed to amplify as she replayed the earlier moment with Elsa in her head, from start to finish. Her kopfkino was overshadowed with a much more pressing sense of dread however, when she heard her father’s warm voice cheerfully ask:

“Alright, who’s ready to rock and roll?”

-x.x.x-

Though Anna had been distinctly less than thrilled at the prospect of going back out into the the fiery pits of hell her hometown had become, she took some consolation in the fact they were headed to her favourite, fully air conditioned lake front eatery. To sweeten the deal, Tűz had been so charming and well behaved, the staff didn’t question his coming in, and he immediately laid down under the table as he had been taught to do.

The plan had been to eat first then head out to the beach for a swim. Of course no one had informed her prior so she hadn’t brought along a swimsuit, and she did her best to eat her lunch as slowly as possible. She’d failed to do the same with her drink though, the thirst was real and the long island iced tea was sweet. It had taken everything in her power not to text Elsa so as not to bother her (and avoid looking like the clingy younger sister she’d always worried she came across as).

Trying to ignore her phone as she shared anecdotes and tidbits of her time spent overseas, she almost missed the notification from her older sister.

Hey, I’m close to finishing up here. Where did you guys end up going?

Mid-sentence, Anna interrupted herself to focus on typing back a quick response.

We’re at The Captain’s Favourite, we’re almost done eating then we’re going swimming. Meet us at Faux Fjord Beach?

Awesome I’ll be there in about 15ish. Btw can you get me one of their Vodka Lemonade Slushies? Please and thank you! Can’t wait to get hammered on the beach and finally catch up with you ;* ( <- fully intentional, not accidental incest this time)

Anna blushed the slightest bit at the emoji, subconsciously biting her lip as it tingled again, and she giggled at the joke initially. At the very least, it was reassuring to know she hadn’t been the only one to think about their silly little incident this morning.

Omg I forgot this place did frozen cocktails, that’s an amazing fucking idea. Same tho, can’t wait! See you soon <3 (not sure that’s legal)

“So Anna, are you going to tell us about your boyfriend?”

Her eyes shot up from her phone to find her cousin Rapunzel with an eyebrow quirked and a knowing smirk, along with the rest of her family looking at her expectantly.

“My what?”

“Girlfriend? Whoever that was that just texted you! Clearly you’ve been holding out on us because dang girl, you’ve got it bad.”

Anna stifled the urge to grab her glass of water and toss it at her cousin’s face, force of habit from their youthful roughhousing days. The cycle of merciless teasing and correspondent indignation was just as part of being home as the rest.

“Chrissake no that was Elsa! I was laughing at one of her stupid jokes, she was asking where to meet us.”

Unimpressed green eyes looked at her with skepticism, unconvinced that Anna was telling the truth. Her first impulse was to show her the text exchange to prove it, but she then realized that the out of context inside joke would land with the current audience.

“C’mon, the girlish giggling? The lip biting? The blushing?”

Her ears felt hot and a flash of defensiveness flared up within her but she exerted just enough self-control not to throw herself into an argument about wrongful perception. Instead she pointedly ignored that line of questioning and relayed her older sister’s message to the rest of their family.

“She said she’d be here in 15 minutes, and I told her to meet us down by the beach.”

A familiar, warm, curious little head poked out from under the table, golden eyes round and hopeful.

“I said beach, not bitch.”

Laughter erupted around her and she let out a quiet sigh of relief under her breath, patting her dog softly as she leaned backwards sinking into the booth seat.

-x.x.x-

Anna was looking out at the water with a slightly forlorn expression, watching her dog swim out to her folks, then back to the shore on a loop of manic joy, wishing she could join them. Alas, with no bathing suit the best she could do was tie up her tank top, sitting in her daisy dukes under the sunshade, though she licked her wounds by sipping on the Bourbon Peach Lemonade Slushie she’d ordered.

When a pair of arms embraced her from behind, nonchalantly sliding over her shoulders she immediately perked up at the recognition of the familiar scent that accompanied them. Before she could say anything however, Elsa was kissing the side of her cheek (successfully this time), and her heart skipped a beat as she smiled in response.

“Hey, didn’t feel like swimming?”

Anna turned to look as her sister sat down beside her, scooting into the shade, though not before her eye had caught sight of the dew on her skin betraying the heat. It was a little nicer on the lake, a pleasant breeze kept it from feeling completely unbearable, but still it would have been so much better if she could’ve gone swimming.

“No one informed me either, remember? Didn’t bring my bathing suit.”

Reaching for Elsa’s drink which she managed to time almost perfectly before her arrival, she handed it over and took another sip from her own, her ears twitching slightly at the sound of the crushed ice compacting with the liquid.

“Thanks,” was the murmured acknowledgement.

“Guess that means you’re stuck drinking with me.”

Her sister reached up to ruffle her auburn hair affectionately and Anna raised her mason jar with a smug little smirk showing that she was already well under way.

“Way ahead of you, you’re gonna be playing catch up now.”

“Hm is that a challenge or a warning?”

Elsa’s tone sounded playful but her polarized aviator-style sunglasses hid the extent of her expression, making it somewhat unreadable. Anna shrugged, starting.

“Well if you aren’t a coward, it’s- ah!”

She shrieked as she felt sharp, cutting cold against her bared shoulder. Glancing over, she saw that Elsa had pressed her still perfectly icy lemonade against her skin, amusement curling her mouth as she took her first gulp through the bendy straw. Anna’s resent at the sudden cold melted like… well, snow in the sun as she noted the genuine mirth in her sister’s mischievous gesture and the way her perfect, bow-shaped lips wrapped around the straw.

“Don’t get cocky, getting hammered was my idea remember? I’m gonna see it through.”

Anna had scoffed but been unable to respond anything right away, instead distracted by the way the unruly strands of platinum that pried themselves loose from Elsa’s braid either floated softly, or stuck to the gentle sheen of her neck. Unable to resist the urge to try and tuck them back at times, it earned her an easy, quick smile whenever she did.

They’d remained mostly in comfortable silence, Anna stealing glances at Elsa’s exquisite face, trying to guess her expression behind the glasses she wore, studying how much she had changed, and it what was she was still identical to the way she remembered her. She wondered if her older sister was in any way aware of the stunning beauty she was.

If they spoke, it was with a mixture of familiarity and uncertainty, like they were both re-learning to speak each other’s language without having ever really left one another. In truth, even before she’d gone to study abroad, It hadn’t always been easy for Anna to read her older sister, penetrate through the wall of ice she guarded herself with. And yet, she had never felt like she was being treated with anything besides love and tenderness. She relished in the small touches, the tactile displays of adoration she had missed so dearly from her and marvelled at how ravishing and confident she managed to look with such a simple and laidback style. The ripped jeans, beater-boy tank top and the shades were achingly cool and suited her all too well.

She knew their parents were overly proud of her for getting a fancy degree overseas, and that they generally avoided discussing Elsa’s lack of direction in life. It didn’t matter one bit to Anna, she would always look up to and admire her older sister, maybe even more so because in spite of her struggles she’d managed to gain her independence.

A brush of the hand against her shoulder, a gentle stroke in the nook of her palm. Fingertips brushing her hair out into her back. Fuck, while she hadn’t been isolated the whole time she was away and had her share of memorable trysts, this kind of intimacy sent pleasant tingles down her spine, and she only just realized now how much she’d missed it. It made her own fingers twitch with the need to touch, to stroke, to hold but she kept her foot on the pedal, once again afraid of coming across as clingy.

When they had found the bottoms of their drinks, likely far too quickly for the amount of alcohol that were mixed in, Anna was resting her head on her older sister’s shoulder. Elsa had turned around to rummage through her bag, before handing Anna a bottle of spray-on sunscreen.

“Really? I’d like to remind you I tan m-more easily than you…”

Elsa laughed at that point and shook her head, reaching for Anna’s free hand with her own and giving it an affectionate little squeeze.

“That’s the point, I want you to put some on my back, you know I’m old and crunchy and cannot reach for shit.”

She snatched it out of her sister’s hand and scoffed.

“Firstly, shut up, you’re not old, you have a good two years of immortality left ahead of you.”

Popping off the lid she shook the bottle as per the instructions on the label before. It felt slippery with her palms so sweaty, matching the rest of her body’s glow. While the drink had been refreshing on the way down, she regretted the way the alcohol made her skin flush and feel hot at this point.

“Secondly, lie down, don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

“Overheard in the town of Arundel. Out of context sisters.”

She felt like an idiot for laughing, but she couldn’t help that Elsa got her sense of humour so well and threw zinger after zinger about this since that very morning. Anna then waited for her to lay down on her stomach over the giant beach towel that had served as a makeshift picnic blanket.

Her heart felt suddenly a little more forceful as it beat faster in her chest when she looked down at the exposed shoulder blades and lower back revealed by the hiked up shirt. Her mouth felt strangely dry and she didn’t for a second question the notion of finding Elsa genuinely gorgeous as she began to spray the solar protection onto the pale, fair, just barely freckled skin.

Not wanting to hurt or surprise her, she very gingerly began rubbing to spread it more evenly. It soon became clear however that from this angle she wouldn’t be able to get the coverage the lotion needed in order to be effective. She swallowed quickly and subconsciously wet her lower lip with her tongue. Her head started racing as thoughts swirled in her head and she felt almost feverish. She knew she’d be better off straddling Elsa to apply the lotion properly, and she knew it was no big deal, yet still felt she should ask before doing so. On the other hand, asking might make it weird, and while they were enjoying their running gag from earlier this morning, this was a whole new level.

God. Was she really overthinking helping her sister to put on protective sun lotion? This was fucking ridiculous.

Buck up, or shut up.

Finally getting over herself, she swung her leg up, straddling Elsa’s thighs, trying to watch for any signs of discomfort as she went to work.

“Mh, do you mind pressing a little harder against my lower back? Cause that feels really nice.”

Elsa’s skin was already damp, but somehow mixing it with the sunscreen made it feel silky, rather than sticky to the touch and Anna obliged, hoping she wouldn’t lose track of where she’d already rubbed, or that the sweat beading at her own crown wouldn’t start dripping down on her sister because the thoughts and implications there were maybe a little bit much, even for her. Yet the more she spread out her touch, the more she thought about their earlier text exchange, suddenly fixating on the parenthesis and the emoji, and the accidental kiss and… truly the unbearably hot weather was getting to her head and she’d have half a brain cell to be convinced she had a fever.

“Leave some for yourself, in spite of what you think you still need to protect yourself too. I’ll even return the favour.”

Anna gulped, almost audibly.

Miles away clouds gathered hanging heavy and jealously holding the crushing humidity hostage, unbeknownst to them which in turn only cranked up the heat Anna was struggling with being subjected to. It created a restless tension within her, an unconscious anticipation.

-x.x.x-

The rest of the afternoon and evening Anna had been torn between the trepidation of going back to Elsa’s (their) place, and the secure comfort of her parents home. She’d avoided her cousin’s exacting questions about her European paramours and at dinner had been unable to focus on conversation as she’d felt Elsa’s occasional touch. The brush of her ankle against her leg, the innocent stroke of her hand on her side when she’d reach over for something on the table.

She’d told herself she was just exhausted from the heat and stimulation and simply wanted to get back to an environment where she could decompress.

And while it was true a huge part of her stress was lifted the moment they’d arrived back at Elsa’s (their) place, the excitement of being alone together crackled with an unfamiliar weight in the air. Tűz had gone immediately to plop down in the love seat closest to the AC unit and almost instantly had began to snore.

Elsa had dropped her keys on the kitchen counter, grabbing a pair of beers from the fridge, handing one to Anna before she’d walked towards the kitchen door leading to the patio.

“I packed a bowl this morning if you want. Just gonna have a quick smoke.”

Anna had nodded and gone to sit down on the couch, feeling weirdly tense, shaking a little as she’d reached for the glass pipe on the coffee table and the lighter next to it. She put a flame to it, igniting the smoke and breathing it in deeply, hoping it would help ease the knot in her stomach. The entire day had passed and yet, whenever she thought of the accidental kiss they’d shared this morning, the spark still felt vivid, like the simple thought was enough to reignite the sensation. She couldn’t remember sharing an intentional, yet alone an accidental kiss with anyone else that left the same imprint. She wanted to ask Elsa if it was the same for her, if the element of surprise was simply being mistaken by her mind and body for excitement.

After all, this was her sister. It couldn’t possibly mean anything else. The idea of it being anything more was preposterous and inconceivable. Right?

But when Elsa returned with the smell of tobacco mingling into her natural scent, and the woody notes of her perfume, mixed into a sweet, soothing and… attractive blend, Anna could only move towards her as she sat on the couch and looked up at her, a sleepy smile hiding the slight trembling in the rest of her body.

When she felt two hands cradle the sides of her face, her whole body went tense. Elsa’s icy gaze burned down into her eye and Anna’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding so hard she could feel it at the edge of her lips. She dared not twitch a muscle as the moment lingered and Elsa’s thumbs stroked her cheekbones with a heartbreaking gentleness.

A strike of lightning flashed outside, quickly succeeded by a crack of thunder.

Anna’s eyes closed as she felt soft, pink, perfect lips against her own, and her mouth parted invitingly on instinct as she leaned forward. The fever, the restlessness, the mania that had built up throughout the day exploded as torrential rains beat down against the window pain, and Anna pressed her upper body into Elsa, her hands finding the edges of her tank top, savouring the taste of her, especially as she suckled at the tip of her tongue.

Quiet gasps and sharp, shallow moans floated between them, and she hungrily kissed her back, nails scratching at the now exposed skin of her sacral area. She hooked her fingertips in the fabric of her shirt pushing it up with an urgency that was perhaps borne out of the clamour of the formidable display from the heavens outside. Though she’d have been lying to herself if she’d said it wasn’t also spurred on by the clenching she’d felt in her own lower belly any time she’d thought of her sister’s mouth against hers that day.

She broke the kiss, though not before she’d given Elsa a little nip of the teeth to her lower lip, and only long enough to hurriedly discard both of their shirts, giving her a coy, heavily lidded glance as she noticed her older sister’s gaze on her now exposed, freckled breasts and pert nipples. She’d not been wearing a bra because, well, it had been too hot, and she could in fact get away with it.

Confidently, Anna reached for the nape of Elsa’s neck giving it a littler squeeze to bring her back to herself immediately sliding her tongue between her lips. Her other hand caressed her side, the expanse of her stomach then travelling to the fabric of her bra. Meanwhile she produced little mewls of pleasure as she felt her sister’s hands cup her breasts hungrily and she shifted her position without missing a beat, pulling her down with her as she laid back on the couch, legs falling open, needing to feel the weight of her ribcage between her thighs.

The hand she’d held the back of Elsa’s neck with began flirting with the damp, soft skin and toying with the stray platinum coloured baby hairs. She felt Elsa shudder above her and felt her hand wrap around her wrist, pinning it above her head, which elicited a moan from Anna. Her hips rolled upwards and she felt instant frustration from the denim creating an unwelcome barrier between them and she wished it gone.

Her wish was apparently Elsa’s telepathic command.

Before she knew it they were squirming out of their respective skin tight denims with the clumsiness only eager urgency could bring. Her heart was thrumming to the relentless and unforgiving rhythm of the raging elements, and as her fingertips brushed against Elsa’s pulse, she knew hers was beating in time with them too. Chills went down her back at the thought of it and she left the harbour of her sister’s mouth to find that same point to the side of Elsa’s throat, kissing and nipping at it, causing their hips to connect frantically. One of her hands was still pinned above her head and her eyes burned with tantric desire as she looked up at Elsa, features magnified and deified each time the lightning flashed out of the living room window.

Anna let out a whine as she felt Elsa’s free hand slide between their two bodies, slick with sweat now and she knew she was blushing when she felt just how wet she was once her sister’s finger parted her folds, the heel of her palm teasing against the engorged bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. Her hips bucked upwards with need, both in shock of the sensation and in desperation for more.

Eyes flew shut as Elsa now pressed her own hips against her hand, creating a firm inescapable pressure against Anna’s bud, and her finger pumping deep inside of her.

“Fuck!”

It was not so much exclaimed as it had been hissed as Anna’s entire body rocked into Elsa, fingertips now tugging more firmly at the blonde roots she’d been gripping, as if clearly communicating she wanted her right there, and no further, desperate to feel her as close as possible, feel their nipples brushing against one another, bodies ravenously hungry for each other.

They found a rhythm though it started off hot, frantic and messy and they found themselves pressed forehead against forehead, mouths slightly agape in the beatitude of sin, and the unbridled lusts of their animalistic pursuit. Thrust upon thrust, roll upon roll of the hips, caused electricity to spark and course through the burning of her lower stomach, tensing and clenching as she felt herself flutter against the welcomed intrusion of Elsa’s touch. Her nervous system pulsated it seemed with the same electricity that ravaged the outside world, protecting rather than threatening their unspeakable passions.

“Elsa,” she breathed almost pleadingly as she felt a storm building inside of her, one to rival the majesty of the the fierce Summer storm rattling the windows with a reckless force.

“Anna,” was the sultry, husky reply. And not that she had any way of knowing this prior to that particular moment, but she could tell that Elsa was on the edge, just as close as she was, possibly closer. Her thighs squeezed harder around her sister’s hips, ankles locking together to keep her even closer than what was thought possible until that point.

She could feel it tugging at her loins almost painfully now and she dug her nails into her own palm, the sting and bite of the pain cracking her closer.

They cried out in unison as their climaxes crested in synchronicity, but the sounds were drowned out by an emphatic strike of thunder, so loud they could’ve sworn the house shook were it not that their own bodies were sent into a shaking mess of trembling frenzy. Overwhelmed and needing to channel it somehow as lightning and fireworks exploded in her mind’s eye their lips met into another electric, full mouthed kiss.

Waves of pleasure crashed over them, unrelenting until they could take it no more, the tension evaporating as they fell limp, heart to heart breathing tickling each other’s ears, the sensation of which enough to titillate them into wanting to continue.

Exhausted, Anna buried her face in the nook of Elsa’s neck, breathing in her sent deeply. Though driven by post-coital bliss, at the back of her mind a dark cloud gathered, fear attempted to bubble up, trying to ruin the glow. She nuzzled Elsa softly, kissing the sweat covered skin, humming gently at the taste as she deliberately avoided thinking about the mess they had made.

They had a lifetime ahead of them for her to process the guilt and the shame. Or unpack the fact she did not feel any regret in the immediate aftermath of the unspeakable.

My God, what had they done?

#elsanna #submission #June 2021 contest #prompt: storm #lemon #cw: alcohol use #cw: substance abuse

9 notes · View notes

tangledinmdzs · 4 years ago

Text

you belong to me, junior quartet hcs

junior quartet soulmate headcanons (modern au)

these are a bit long, but i hope you all don’t mind (also i hope you won’t mind the little formatting things i’m working on hehe)

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Lan Sizhui

the timer

the moment that Lan Sizhui met you, he knew that you would be someone important to him

when his parents had become friendly with the family down the street and had introduced him to your smiling face, there was no turning back from there

he’d always adored you, long before the timer appeared on your 12th birthdays

and even after that, when the craze of estimates and soulmate countdowns swept through your school he still felt the same lingering ease of being beside you

Sizhui was fine with the mystery of the very big digits on his timer but you had been curious and had dragged him along on the estimation and soulmate guiding journeys that all the kids were crazy about

with some math, he figured out that his timer was set for only 6 more years from now, when he would turn 18.

you were more than jealous, because you had to wait a whole 4 years after him, destined to meet your soulmate at 22

“ahh that means it could be anyone in high school! you’re going to have your first love be your soulmate! that’s so romantic” and you would go on and on and on about all of that, young love and such things

he’d just laugh at you but let you immerse yourself in whatever you wanted to your heart’s content

high school years pass and go like a short rainstorm.

you and Sizhui grow up together, laughter together, stay together despite all the world’s turbulences

Sizhui doesn’t meet anyone that stays longer than a week, even as his time drops day by day

the years pass by faster than you would imagine and on a wintery January morning, Sizhui wakes up on his 18th birthday to notice that his timer is counting down hours instead of days.

he’s a little shocked, a little scared

what if he met/was destined with a complete stranger

could that happen?

the smallest part of him hopes that isn’t the case

and then that small part of him is reassured by the fact that he would at least be spending some part of the day with you

out of the many traditions that you both have made, you always promised to celebrate each other’s birthday together

the little cute gifs and texts won’t cut it

just the thought of you eases his anxiousness and he anticipates the night that you guys have together

but as the evening gets later and you show no sign of showing up he begins to get worried, then fearful, then anxious

and even though it’s his birthday he ends up pacing by the front door when every call and text that he sends to you is left unanswered

his dads are worried too, you’re not usually like this and they hate seeing their only son so worried

they end up calling your parents only for them to be confused on your whereabouts and now everyone is worried

Sizhui can’t imagine anything happening to you and his fear is heightened by the late hours that’s approaching

he’s too worried about your well being to really notice that the timer on his wrist only has minutes left instead of hours

it is nearing 11:47PM and Sizhui is hurriedly shrugs on a winter coat and scarf, ready to just go looking for you himself

his dads are against it, one lost kid is already a enough of a worry

but he doesn’t listen, can’t listen

you’re his best friend for god’s sakes it’s not like he could just leave you

and he’s ignoring his parents commands and pulling the front door open just as the timer on his wrist runs out

in the snowy backdrop of early January five minutes to midnight, you stand with rosy cheeks and a bright smile with a big bag in your arms and a warmth in your eyes

“i was waiting on line for the release of this and i didn’t realize people took so long to wrap things and then the creators ended up being there so i had to fight some people for their signatures... but i’m here! i didn’t miss Sizhui day!” you explain in tumble of words and shove the bag unceremoniously into his shellshocked arms

“i know they’re your favorite game series! so this is all for you” you tell him, smiling widely at his face

he blinks at you, the incessant ticking at the back of his mind finally silent after so many years

Sizhui puts the bag down without even opening it

without another word he pulls you close to him, holding you tight

his timer has finally ended

but your countdown steadily ticks on | || ||| [pt 2]

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

Lan Jingyi

writing on skin

you didn’t know who your soulmate was, but whoever they were must be the biggest cheater you’d ever meet

almost as early as you could have been able to contact your soulmate, your skin had been littered with writings of all different kinds

it had started off as little occurrences that slowly got heavier as you both continued on your academic careers

at one point the notes had gotten so bad that you had to resort to wearing long sleeves just to cover up the array of words that were on every inch of your arms (even the occasional stomach)

all your friends always wondered why you never contacted this soulmate of yours

some acquaintances recommended the idea to you like you couldn’t have thought of it yourself.

of course you wanted to contact this person; tell them to lighten up on the writing a little bit

but was there even any room to write? would they even be able to tell the difference between your handwriting amidst all of the chaos of their notes?

besides this person also seems incredibly sly to be able to get away with such methods of learning for a long time

so you go along with it until you can’t

in your final year of college, the sleeve of words that don’t belong to you almost cost you your diploma

you’d been accused of cheating from your professor and had to go through a deep and painful trial to plead your innocence

it was something that lasted nearly a week, since plagiarism and lack of academic integrity were the highest of offenses at your college

your truth was finally realized when the higher ups on the board realized they couldn’t wash the writing off your arms and you provided the evidence of different handwritings

the trial had been so demanding and draining and it wasn’t even your fault!

and in your anger after the whole ordeal, you don’t think

you return to your dorm room, take out your big blue sharpie and retaliated to your soulmate for the first time by writing STOP on your left arm and CHEATING on your right.

you leave the large letters on for a the rest of the night, even when you get weird looks from your roommate for it

that night goes on normally until you’re about to go to sleep and you look down at your arms to realize that the sleeve of tiny scribbles are scrubbed clean from your skin

al that’s left aside from your blue sharpie is a single answer on your right arm, written in the handwriting that you had come to know better than your own for the past few years

i don’t cheat

you huff a disbelieving laugh at that and seeing that your arms are mostly clear go and wash off the blue sharpie

when your soulmate’s answer still remains, you answer them even though the night is late

what does a person do with so much notes on their arms if not to cheat?

your response is written in dark black, neat handwriting despite the fact that you’re writing at an awkward angle and place on your arm

after a few moments, words begin to appear

it’s so weird seeing words appear randomly on your skin, especially when they happen before your eyes

taking notes on the body saves paper

the answer truly makes you have a loss for words and knowing that you were awake, your soulmate probably felt the awkwardness from the silence that lapses for a bit afterwards

it just helps me concentrate better

but i’m assuming you’re not a big fan

and from that you guys start a conversation long overdue, years overdue

you learn that his name is Lan Jingyi and despite the unconventionalities of his work ethic, he had a bit of a charm when he was writing to someone with an answer

morning comes to both of you before you realize

and this time when your arms are filled, it is with many answers, instead of just questions

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

Jin Ling

with one touch

you had never gotten a bruise in your life

which was a kind of funny considering that you were had been training in your father’s dojo since you could walk

then again in your world, only when you touched your soulmate would that purple greenish ugly color come up

and since you were the star pupil of your father’s martial arts dojo, it’s not like it was ever easy to land a punch on you anyways

anyone that ever did never was you soulmate

and they’d be dead meat ‘immobilized’ (if not by your retaliation or your sibling’s overprotectiveness or your father’s judgement, the possibilities were endless)

but the point was, you had never gotten a bruise in your entire life, so you definitely didn’t know what it even looked like until you were changing out of your gi and your older sister pointed out the large bruise on your shoulder

you’re surprised

you hadn’t even felt any pain from it

but as you stand with your back to the mirror looking at it back and forth you wrack you brain for every person that you had come into contact within the last few days

the only person that comes to mind is one of the newest recruits to your father’s dojo, an aggressive punk by the name of Jin Ling

he’s not a good fighter as much as he just fights a lot

but you vividly remember being pushed hard when you had to break a fight between him and another student the other day

you hadn’t realized that he had actually pushed your shoulder then

you figure that you’ll know for sure when he comes to the dojo for practice tomorrow

the next day arrives and when you’re setting up the mats for everyone else, Jin Ling ends up being one of the earlier arrivals

and since no one’s there yet, you end up asking him to do something that you don’t usually ask people

but it feels like the only way to know for sure if he is your soulmate or not

“spar with me” you invite him when he returns to the main room with his uniform on

he’s more than surprised; he’s the new kid on the block, you’re the seasoned veteran and the sensei’s kid

when you sense his hesitation, you egg him on with “nothing to be scared of; i’ll go easy on you”

and when you look at him, you notice how his eyes darken at your jab

even though you’re a brown belt and he’s just teetering around yellow

the dojo ends up welcoming the next batch of students that come in with a very bruised up Jin Ling

you’re a little bit better off, though your hands are a little battered up

there’s no pain, luckily, just the ugly color of the bruise of a soulmate touch

and even when Jin Ling glares at you as your father goes through the forms for the day’s lessons, you know that he can’t deny the marks on him can only be made by you

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

Ouyang Zizhen

first words tattooed on your wrist

Zizhen’s always been a bit of a romantic

living in a society where all the movies play out picture perfect scenes of confessions has given Zizhen all of the back up that he needs in order to be prepared for his soulmate

he’s one of those people that make you read a specific quote he’s set out before initiating conversation (he’s just that prepared)

but what he isn’t prepared for is what he’d be saying to his soulmate

so one dreary autumn morning, when he walks into the cafe you’re working at bleary eyed and sleep deprived

Zizhen is not in the state of mind to be meeting his soul mate

when he comes up to the register, he begins ordering his usual chai tea latte with all the specific condiments as you listen in

as he’s talking you feel a little tingling on your wrist and don’t think much about it, not even asking him anything else when he quietly hands you his credit card to swipe

you’d always been a quiet person, and your boss was always on your back for not going through all of the employee procedures but you don’t pay that any mind

but anyways, only when you’re in the middle of making his order do you finally realize

you sleeve slips up a little bit as you’re making the tea and you notice a little paragraph written in beautiful swirling script on your wrist

you’d almost burned yourself at the fact and put one and one together

some dude just placed a whole order as your soulmate quote

and you’re angry

when you’ve finished making the chai latte you hold onto the drink tight as the guy from before comes back for his order

but just before he gets it, you snatch the drink far from his grasp and pull down your sleeve showcase your newest soulmate quote

‘i’ll have a medium chai tea latte, light on on the cream with two pumps of vanilla, no water and switch out normal milk with soy milk. also with extra cinnamon”

when Zizhen realizes that you’re his soulmate his very actual soul wants to leave his body because:

the moment that he’s been waiting for has finally come

also you’re so cute!!!

but you face looks stormy and sullen... i mean who wouldn’t be, you just got an starbucks order as your soulmate quote (and only a very very specific group of people would find a blessing in that and you were not one of them)

you wanna just call him ‘dickhead’ and make it even, but even that seems light in comparison to the entire chai tea latte order that he places on your wrist

f o r e v e r

but you’re in for a treat, because, Zizhen’s always been a too much of a romantic

you take some time off from your shift to make a plan with this dude, because there was no way that you were gonna read the cheesy soulmate quote that he wanted and have everything be dandy

you learn that Zizhen is his name and that he’s much too romantic; so romantic in fact that he proposes a solution in comparison to your soulmate quote right away

“do you have a favorite recipe or something that you like to eat? you can read the recipe to me so that i’ll have it on my wrist, and i’ll know how to make it!”

he sounds so excited that it lightens the order on your wrist a little

the gesture softens you a bit (read a lot)

but you’re also mildly peeved that every time you look at your wrist its a beautiful beautiful calligraphy of a specific order of chai tea latte

so when you guys begin dating, you give him the silent treatment on your first few outings together

but through every date together, from movies to restaurant, you learn that Zizhen is a very easy going and compassionate guy, easily filling in for the empty space that would have been your voice

similarly, Zizhen wonders and lingers on the sound of your voice, but also finds himself falling deeply for your laugh

it’s amazing the vibe that you guys create together and this is without you talking yet!

after a few weeks of going out together, you’re sat across from him in a small homey cafe when you say your first words to him

in the end, there is no big recipe written on his wrist; you read the exact quote that he wants to have

because you know how much it means to him to have that on his skin

when you’re finished, Zizhen realizes that what he was searching for wasn’t even the perfect quote to be said

it was the fact that the person he had grown to love had said it to him

and even though there’s no recipe etched onto his skin, he has the rest of eternity to remember all of your favorite recipes to the depths of his heart

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

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yandere-wishes · 4 years ago

Text

Yandere Fling Posse Headcanons // Hypnosis Mic X Reader//

NGL I didn’t really like Fling posse before writing this,but now ....💓💓💓 Also huge thanks to @minoux-x for the help with writing these HC’s!!

🍭🎲🏮🍭🎲🏮🍭🎲🏮🍭🎲🏮🍭🎲🏮🍭🎲🏮🍭🎲🏮🍭🎲🏮🍭🎲

ramuda amemura

🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭

At first glance, Ramuda can't even be classified as a yandere! He's so sweet and loving, constantly showering his sweetheart with candies and new clothes. Every word that leaves his mouth is a love-filled melody that melt's his s/o's heart! He's just the absolute best boyfriend anyone could ask for!...

But life isn't a fairy tale and Ramuda must certainly isn't the prince charming he pretends to be. All those gifts and sweet words where just strings to tie you up with turning you into his little dancing puppet. You'll soon find yourself all alone, walking on a tight rope of Ramuda's lies. Everything is so blurry, just when did you stop texting your childhood best friend and when was the last time you even saw your mother and father. Every single memory you can recall seems to be centered around the pink-haired lollipop enthusiast.

"Sweetheart..."

Sometimes when you lie in bed next to your "boyfriend", squeezed tightly to his chest. Your mind rushes back into the past, burrowing through each and every nook and cranny of your soul to attempt to recall any stretch of the imagination that may have even hinted at life before Easy R. Sometimes you recall certain hobbies you use to take pleasure in, reading, writing, drawing, basic things that everyone must have enjoyed but...but then he said that you didn't need them, all your books began to slowly disappear, all your sketchbooks just vanished one day and every time you tried to type a single word, Ramuda would lay himself over your lap demanding attention. Funny how now, the tables have turned and you're the one begging for the pink-haired man's attention every second of the dame day.

Ramuda practically treats his darling like a little doll. He's persisting in making sure to erase anything in her life that isn't him. He doesn't mind her being numb and brainless, so long as conscious enough to give him kisses and hugs, suffocating him with all her attention. He adores dressing them in the "cutest" most girly dresses that he can make. styling their hair and fixing up their makeup. But be warned one wrong move, one simple word about not liking one of his dresses and you're in for a painful punishment.

Punishments are where Ramuda's dark side really shines through, where his carefree "playful" person cracks, revealing the ugly truth nesting within. His punishments are always dehumanizing in a way, always reminding you that you are nothing but a doll, a marionette with the sole purpose to entertain him. His favorite discipline is pokes sewing needles into his darling's flesh, making her scream out in pain and confusion. Oh, how her cries of pain are sweeter than any dessert! Speaking of sweets, if you dare misbehave than Ramuda is going to take away your "eating privileges" only if you beg will he let you have a tiny scrap to eat. Usually in the form of the vilest tasting candies in all of Japan.

"wanna have some fun with me?"

Gentaro Yumeno

🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮🏮

Gentaro is an extremely manipulative yandere, who's also greatly delusional, he'll slither his way into the mind of his darling, twisting their every thought to revolve around him and only him. He likes watching his lover fall into an endless pit of despair, making them question their own reality and truths.

It took almost an eternity for "Phantom" to find his one true darling. He's all so extremely picky about what they must be like. He wants an intellectual who he can compare wits with. Someone who understands him on spiritual bases. Easy to say that such a person was extremely hard to find. But when he does find "the one" there is no way in hell that he's going to let them get away that easily. He'll stalk them where ever they go, following them, day and night, memorizing their schedules. When he starts to notice the lack of his attention his darling gives him, Gentaro will start to take his delusions out on paper. Writing draft after draft about the "perfect" love story between you two. How he's the intelligent scholar that recuses the poor maiden from her mundane, dreadful life, whisking her away into a world of fantasies and knowledge. But soon, very, very soon, poor Gentaro will get bored with these tales and wish to experience the real thing. It's then that he truly becomes the protagonist of his stories. "saving" you in the dead of night, open the door of both your heart and mind to his great reality. "I love you (Y/N)~"

Life with Gentaro is extremely complex. You never know what true and what's a lie. Your self proclaimed "lover" is a pathological liar, with an icy heart! Failing to distinguish between his lies and reality often leads to both punishments and parts of your sanity chipping away. Of course, Gentaro would never hurt you, no, no he loves you too much. If you wake up to a broken leg to finger pulled out of their socket it must have been someone else. He twisted the fables in such a dreamy manner that you are just about to believe him...that is until he says he infamous catchphrase "that's just a lie" and continues to degrade you for not being able to distinguish such a clean distortion.

Over time you begin to cage yourself in a glass cage made up of Phantom's lies. Using those that benefit you and make you truly believe that he loves you to guard you against the harsh reality of all the cruel, inhumane things he has done to you.

YOU LOVE HIM AND HE LOVES YOU...... OR IS THAT TOO JUST A LIE?

"I promise that is no lie, my love"

Dice Arisugawa

🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲🎲

Dice is a very hard yandere to pin, mostly due to his rather air headed and careless nature. But a good way to describe him is a delusional obsessive. In the eyes of Dead or Alive you are nothing more than a prize, a valuable trophy much more precious than any gold or diamond, but a prize never the less. He will do anything to win his lovely darling. Noting is off the table. killing some punk that made eyes at you? Sure, let him just roll his dice to see whether he should use a knife or ax. Maybe you require money? That's no problem, he just needs to borrow some cash from Rio to play with and hopefully win you a generous sum. Of course, he is going to expect some reimbursement sooner or later.

Dice isn't a fool, he's going to aim for a more unfortunate, desperate darling. One that he can easily talk into joining him in a "friendly" game of cards. It's the game of a lifetime, nothing is off the table. Dice is ready to bet his every last yen he owns, his arms, legs, heck even his organs. Just so he can lure his naive little lover in so deep that she'll have no choice but to bet her self as the final prize. BET IT ALL, That's when the gambling junkie will swoop in, revealing his final hand, a royal flush!

That look of utter despair and helplessness in his darling's eyes is more addicting than any Slot Machines. It's making his heart rush a mile a minute. He's almost positive that his rib cage is going to break from the sheer pressure of each heartbeat. You're him now! He won you! Oh, luck was truly on his side tonight!

"You're my lucky charm (y/n)...."

Life is just one long game with Dice Arisugawa, he'll teach you every rule, ever outcome. But it's all up to you, every breath you take has it's consequences, every step has to be pondered on. But all so very soon you will become an expert at his little Backgammon game. Gradually Dice will let his guard down, after all the name is rather naive and far too trusting for his own good. This would be the perfect time for his sweet darling to escape...that is if she hasn't become too broken and addicted to Dice.

Dice isn't very harsh on punishments, he's quite lax with any form of disobedience. A quick slap to the face or some shouting is as far as he'll go. Of course, they're also the lingering threats that he so casually spews. "(y/n) if you don't behave I'll bid you off the next time I'm out of cash."

"Now, now (y/n) is that any way to talk to the man that practically owns your life? Why don't I just kill you right here and now? I'm sure your body parts must be work some yen, right?"

They're mild, bordering on humor, but it's hard not to take them seriously when you see just how obsessed Dice can get with any game at any time. There is always the possibility you'll wake up without a kidney, or a lung or maybe even your right arm, just because he ran out of money for a poker game. These tiny threats and obsessive tendencies are enough to make his darling completely docile and submissive, out of pure fear for what the unpredictable blue-headed man may do to her.

"...I'm never letting you go~

258 notes · View notes

decayedflower · 4 years ago

Text

Stranger II

⋆ gif is mine

Pairing: Yang Hongwon x Reader

Genre: Underground rapper!Hongwon, Barista!Reader | angst, fluff

Word Count: 5.6k

Summary: Don’t get attached. This was his number one rule. Attachment means getting hurt. Attachment means vulnerability. You are the only person you can trust. So how could she so easily sneak past and break the walls he had worked so hard to build around his heart when all she is, is a stranger?

Warnings: cussing, some angst, hamin being a noodle

A/N: Sorry this took forever to upload, life happens ya know? Next chapter should be more exciting as the ball gets rolling. Hope you guys enjoy :)

You told yourself that no matter how in love you were with someone, you could detach yourself from your emotions enough so that—should the day come—you could live your life without them.

Looking at yourself now, you admit you’re a little ashamed. You couldn’t stop bawling your eyes out for 2 weeks straight. You guess you didn’t do as good a job ‘detaching’ as you thought you did.

You mentally slap yourself. You once lived your life without him bitch, you can do it again.

It was on a rainy Monday afternoon that you found yourself in bed—cheeto dust on your titties—marathon watching Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok-Joo. Curse Nam Joohyuk. How could a man be so goddamn perfect? He was handsome, funny, loving—and most certainly not a CHEATER.

You sigh and decide that you should probably get up and shower before Hyeri comes home and sees your miserable state. You feel bad worrying her so much. She’s always been way too kind and selfless for her own good.

You grab a fresh set of pj’s and determinedly head to the bathroom. The least you could do was stop moping and try to clear your thoughts of him. For both your sakes.

Just as you finish that thought, you catch sight of the item sitting on top of your dresser. Your favorite hoodie. His hoodie. You scowl and toss it into the trash bin. If only all men were like Nam Joohyuk. The world would be a much more peaceful place.

“Sooo, hey.”

“Yeah?”

“You know how Princess Peach is always getting her ass kidnapped?”

You laugh at the odd question. “I do recall the kidnapping of the Princess Peach ass, yes.”

“Well, it just hit me. Why doesn’t the bitch ever fight back? I mean,” Jin places a hand on his hip thoughtfully, “how is it that she manages to get kidnapped by the same dude every single time? She’s a princess. Shouldn’t she have high level security?”

“Huh. I never really thought about that.”

“How could you not! She has marshmallows for bodyguards. It’s outrageous.”

“Does it really matter?” you ask.

He sounds genuinely offended. “Of course it does. You ever see Daisy getting kidnapped?”

“Well, no but—“

“Besides, isn’t it a little ridiculous how there’s this expectation that Mario has to save her? I mean, he’s not even a prince or a knight, he’s a plumber! An italian plumber! The amount of disrespect is just astronomical considering the lengths he goes to—”

“Seokjin why are we talking about this?” You ask, baffled. You take a look at your workstation and head to the stockroom to get more large size cups. Jin trails behind you, obviously upset with your lack of interest in the conversation.

“It’s a legitimate concern, Y/N. Someone needs to pay attention to these details and it is the duty of I, the consumer, to voice the—whoa whoa whoa, since when do we have oatmeal raisin cookies?!” He screeches mid-rant, staring at a pack of cookies he holds in his hand.

You whip around to have a look, not believing your ears. “What the fuck?”

It’s true. The box of oatmeal raisin cookies sits atop the third shelf, right next to the double chocolate chip cookies.

“The boss sent an email out on Sunday,” Yoongi stands at the doorway holding a box of promotional flyers. If it were possible, you swear tumbleweed would have made its way between the three of you with the silence that follows as you and Jin stare at each other blankly.

“Which,” Yoongi drawls out, “I guess neither of you read.” he states dryly, walking away.

“Who the hell likes oatmeal raisin?” Jin asks defensively. Personally, you couldn’t agree more. Oatmeal cookies on their own were tolerable—it was the raisin part that completely ruined the entire cookie.

“They’re Satan’s spawn,” he scowls, tossing the aforementioned cookie back in the box as if it had personally insulted him. You chuckle and shake your head, walking back to your station with the box of plastic cups.

You start stocking them back up on the counter, making sure it looks neat.

“Hey Jin,” Yoongi calls out from the front of the store, “can you grab that window marker and write out the menu again? The rain washed some of it off.” He says, examining the missing bits of letters, nose scrunched in annoyance.

You could practically hear the way the older boy starts seething at Yoongi’s lack of use in honorifics. The tips of his ears flare a bright red, his eyes wide in disbelief.

“I’M SORRY, COME AGAIN?! I couldn’t hear you over the DISRESPECT.”

Seokjin takes great pride in being the oldest of the crew. He enjoys taking care of the others as if they were of his own blood, you included. He has a somewhat sarcastic sense of humor—but never overbearingly so—always exaggerating his facial expressions and reactions, which you personally find charming. Seokjin is also infamous for his constant dad jokes, the younger ones usually cringing at their cheesiness and have you bending over in laughter. (The other boys beg you to stop egging him on as it only fuels his desire to keep them going.) That being said, Jin is not someone who gets easily irritated. When it comes to certain things, he is just, well, a bit of a drama queen.

You stifle a laugh, watching as Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose, a heavy sigh leaving his mouth, very obviously regretting his choice of words. “Hyung, will you please go rewrite the menu outside?”

“Thank you! Can’t you just do that from the get go? I swear you kids are so ungrateful sometimes. I mean, you all seem to forget how I practically raised you brats—”

“Hyung, please get your ass outside or so help me I will go into that break room right now, clock out, take the longest nap of my damn life and just leave you two out here to die.”

“Alright, alright,” he says, putting his hand up, “I’m going geez. What a drama queen.” He huffs his way to the entrance, shaking his head, marker in hand. “And you guys say I’m the dramatic one.” He scoffs, shaking his head.

Yoongi stands there looking up at the ceiling with his hands on both hips as if silently asking the heavens for a tiny shred of patience.

You snicker behind your hand. You swear hearing those two bicker is your daily source of serotonin.

It’s 3 more hours into your shift when Hamin shows up at the front counter with his signature soft boy smile.

He first visited the cafe during the summer one day back when you had just been hired. The intense summer heat wave had him coming in search of some shelter from the sun and a drink to cool off. The Grind was promoting the seasonal summer drinks and naturally, as a new hire, you tried your best to advertise it. It was only your second day on the job and in your nervous state you sold him a drink that, to just your luck, wasn’t available that day. You apologized profusely afraid that he would turn out to be a Karen, but Hamin had been very sweet about it. He befriended you after that, making frequent visits to the Grind, declaring that he had found a hidden gem.

After talking to him some more you learned that Hamin had studied psychology for two years at a local college before he decided to drop out and pursue his musical career. Of course he didn’t tell you that last part up until a couple of weeks ago, so you had been under the impression that the reason he spent so many hours at the coffee shop was to study for his exams. You weren’t the type of person to pry into someone’s personal life unless they decided to tell you themselves so you never asked. Ever since Hongwon confessed to you that both he and Hamin were working towards becoming musicians, Hamin began to share more about himself to you. He figured that now that the cat was out of the bag, he could be more open with you. Prior to that day, you knew very little about Hamin’s personal life.

“Hey you! You’re back,” you beam.

“Yeah, gotta grind,” he pats his bag for emphasis. “Ha! Grind...” he snorts suddenly. “Get it? Cause we’re at...” he gestures to the shop and laughs to himself. He looks goofy standing there in his bright lavender tie dye hoodie, a big contrast to the muted colors of the walls. His tall lean form stands out like a sore thumb. An Adidas baseball cap adorns his head but it’s so washed out you can’t even tell what color it is—or is supposed to be.

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Oh come on, it was funny,” he says, leaning on the counter.

“It was funny the first couple times Jin said it when I just started working here,” You correct.

“You still laughed though,” he winks at you, making you laugh again. “Anyway,” he straightens up, “Can I get the usual, please?”

You grab a cup and start writing his name. “Just you this time?”

“Nah, my idiot friend is coming but he’s gonna run late so I’ll just order ahead of him.” He sighs, reaching into his pocket in search of his wallet. “How much is it?” He asks, fumbling through a bunch of receipts and cards.

You wave him off. “On the house.”

“No way, I can—”

“Hamin, dude, relax. You do this every time. I keep telling you, discount: friend. Total: zero.”

“You gotta let me pay every now and then. I don’t want your coworkers to think I keep coming here to leech off you…”

“Look, if you were really taking advantage of me, you wouldn’t keep disappearing on me for weeks at a time. Consider it an advance payment for when you finally let me hear a song of yours. ”

“Sorry…” He smiles sheepishly, “It’s a deal then. Thanks Y/N, you’re the best,” he grins. You flip your hair dramatically, playing along.

You make his drink and note that work is slow enough, so you head over to his table instead of calling him over.

You place his drink on the table, “so what’re you working on today?” He looks up and thanks you, taking a sip before he answers.

“A solo project. I don’t have anything now that’s worth listening to though…” He says dejectedly. Admittedly, he’s been going though somewhat of a writer's block.

“That’s okay! I didn’t mean to pressure you. Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be glad to give it a listen if you’re still willing to let me. Good music also takes time, right?” You smile encouragingly.

Someone yells out your name before he’s able to respond. You turn at the sound, “Oh hey!” you exclaim when you see your roommate. You turn back to wish Hamin luck on his writing.

“Thanks for the lunch, Hyeri,” you pat your stuffed tummy in satisfaction. “I forgot to prep mine last night so I was honestly just gonna wait until I got home to eat,” you confess meekly.

She showed up during your shift planning to ask you what kind of food you were in the mood for so she could bring it to you, but Yoongi caught on and sent you on your lunch break so the two of you could eat together instead. Min Yoongi was a godsend.

“I knew it! Y/N, you have to eat your meals! Do you know how detrimental it is to your health if you’re constantly working and skipping your meals?!” you cower as she scolds you.

“I know…sorry. I just forgot...” you squeak.

“Ugh. I��m sorry. I didn’t mean to raise my voice, I just worry about you,” she sighs, taking her seat again.

“And I’m so thankful!” you say quickly placing your hand on hers, “I’m sorry you’re always having to take care of me. I’ll work harder so that I don’t become a burden to you. I promise. I haven’t been myself these days but...just give me some time.”

She grabs your hand with both of hers, “Hey. You’re never a burden to me, Y/N. You’re like a sister to me. And I would never put your emotions against you. You need time to heal and that’s okay. Take it at your pace. I will always look after you, no matter what. Okay?”

Your heart warms at her words. You were so grateful to have her for a best friend. You engulf her in a hug and look at the time.

“I should head back. My break is just about over. Thank you for everything, Hyeri. Are you staying? I’ll make you a drink. On the house. You can study there?” you ask.

“Well, I was planning on going to my school’s library, but I guess I could use a drink…” She paused for a moment. “Is Jungkook working today?” She asks, hopeful.

Her crush on your coworker was so amusing. “Unfortunately for you, not today, sorry.” She pouts cutely.

“I’ll make you a green matcha latte?”

“Pretty please.”

You giggle, “Okay, let’s head back then.”

It was a good thing the two of you decided to eat at the chinese restaurant across the shop, so the walk isn’t long. You came here so often that the kind elderly woman who owned the restaurant had memorized your order. You couldn’t help it that their sweet and sour chicken was bomb as hell. What you would give for that recipe.

You’re internally groaning at the thought of having to go back into work when Hyeri stops in front of the entrance and lets out a low whistle.

“Whoa, hey. Which one of your coworkers drives a damn motorcycle?!” She points to a sleek, graphite motorcycle parked on the curb, two cars away from yours.

“Whoa. Uhh...no one, not that I’m aware of. Jin drives a Honda Civic and Yoongi ubers cause of car issues.” You shrug, opening the door. “Must be a customer’s.”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s just me, but that thing is screaming big dick energy.” She says, following behind you. You laugh and smack her shoulder.

“You say that but what if it’s some old bald dude that listens to metal?” You ask, leading her to a table farther in the back so she can study peacefully.

“Well err...hopefully not. I’m just saying whoever rides that thing, I wouldn’t mind riding too. Hell, I could ride all night…” she trails off. You bury your embarrassed face in your hands and try to hold in your laughter so you don’t disturb the customers.

“Oh my god. Stop talking. You’re gonna get me in trouble.” You point at a chair, “Sit here and I’ll bring your drink. Behave,” you warn playfully.

“Yes ma'am,” She winks and points shooter fingers at you. You laugh with a roll of your eyes, heading back to clock in.

“You seem...distracted.” Hamin says, amusement lacing his words.

“Huh?” Hongwon turns at the accusation with wide eyes.

He sighs. “I mean,” he says crossing his arms, “ever since you got here 15 minutes ago, it’s like you keep looking around for...something.”

“So, you’re saying for the past 15 minutes you’ve been watching me like a creep?” He turns his attention back to the music software in front of him. “I told you I don’t swing that way.” he says, clicking random notes on the half-finished project.

Hamin snorts. “Don’t change the subject. What‘s got you so distracted dude?” He asks, slurping up the remains of his drink through his straw.

“The only distraction here is the eggplant sitting in front of me...” He trails off when you enter the coffee shop with your friend in tow. You’re laughing, giving her a smack on the shoulder playfully at a joke she tells you.

Hamin stops his obnoxious slurping when he follows his friend’s gaze. “Ohhhhh!” he grins.

“What?” He snaps. “No ohhhh. Whatever you’re thinking, stop it right now.”

“I’m not thinking anything.” Hamin brings his hands up defensively. “Brain empty. No thoughts.” He taps the side of his head with his index finger. “Buuuttt if you were so interested you could’ve just asked, you know.”

“And what would I have asked exactly?” He asks with a tinge of annoyance.

Hamin tsks under his breath, exasperated. “Oh come on. I mean Y/N. You wanted to know if she was working. Am I right or am I right?”

“Why the hell would I wanna know that? I don’t even know her. ”

“Hongwon!” He’s caught off guard at the sound of your voice. He internally slams his own head against the table and forces a smile when you approach the table, avoiding Hamin’s gaze.

“Y/N, hey…”

“Hold on, you know each other already?” Hamin asks obnoxiously, “I only briefly mentioned you to him, but you already know his name!” Hongwon shoots daggers at the side of his head.

“Actually,” Hongwon says through gritted teeth, “we talked for a bit when I was on my way out the other day. It would have been rude of me to not introduce myself since she’s your friend.”

“He was even kind enough to walk with me on the way home even though it was raining. Thanks for that by the way, you really didn’t have to do that.” Hamin’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Shit. The smile you give him is so sincere that he almost misses what you say completely.

“Really!” Hamin grins, clearly enjoying the situation. He pats his shorter friend’s head in mock endearment. “That’s so sweet of him! I mean, considering he lives in a completely opposite di—” Hongwon sends a swift kick to his shin underneath the table.

“Fuck!” Hamin rubs the spot and laughs through the gritted teeth. “I mean...that’s sweet of him considering he’s normally so shy.” He growls at Hongwon and plasters a smile when he looks back at you. You probably think they’re both lunatics.

“Right…” You laugh, unsure of what’s happening. “By the way, did you want a drink? I’ll make it for you.” You tell Hongwon.

“Oh, uh yeah I was just gonna get an americano. Let me just—” He starts to stand up and take out some cash when you stop him.

“Are you sure that’s okay?” He asks. “I don’t want to get you in trouble…”

“Don’t worry, I get free drinks and pastries since I work here.” You say.

“And she shares them with me because I’m her favorite customer. Right, Y/N?” Hamin wiggles his eyebrows at you. You laugh and pick up his empty cup.

“Is he always this much of a moron when he comes here?” Hongwon asks, scrunching his face in distaste. You laugh and ask them to wait while you bring them coffee.

Hamin waits until you’re completely out of ear shot before he begins his interrogation.

“You know, for a pair of strangers, you two seem very well acquainted.” He states, eyes narrowed.

Hongwon scoffs. “You know, I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this but somehow you have a really punchable face.”

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you’re a terrible liar.”

“Oh shut up. I didn’t lie. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think I needed to.”

“‘I don’t even know her,’” Hamin mimics.

“I don’t know her. I know her name, that’s it. Not the same thing.”

“So you like her.”

He laughs. “What are you, five? How could I like her? I just met her, idiot.”

“You walked her home.” He says pointedly.

“Part way. I only did it because it was getting late and she’s your friend.”

“Ha! Since when do you care about my friends?”

“She’s a girl, it’s different. If something happened to her because I looked the other way, it’d be on my conscience.”

“You live in completely opposite directions.”

“So what?”

“You wouldn’t even do that for me.” Hamin deadpans.

“Yeah but you’re not a cute girl.” He shrugs, crossing his arms.

“So you think she’s cute!” He slams both hands onto the table, leaning forward to peer into Hongwon’s face accusingly.

“So what? She is cute.” He shoves him away, “that doesn’t mean I like her.”

“Hmm. Okay.” Hamin smirks and leans back in his seat.

“What?” He snaps.

“Nothing,” He says with a look on his face that screams everything but nothing.

Hongwon drags his hands over his face. “You really piss me off, you know that?”

“You may have mentioned that before,” he replies, appearing unbothered.

He’s lucky you decide to come back at that moment. He swears he’d have slapped the smile off his face had he been left alone with Hamin for a minute longer.

You set down the coffee and start to walk back to the counter. “Well, I shouldn’t bother you guys too much so I’ll leave you to it.”

“Wait, Y/N!” Hamin shifts in his seat to face you. “Are you busy Friday?” This puts Hongwon on alert.

“Hmmm...no, I don’t think I have anything going on actually. Why what’s up?”

“You’ve been wanting to hear some of our music for a while now, right? Well,” he loops an arm around Hongwon’s shoulder, “guess who has a gig that night?”

“No way!” You squeal, covering your mouth with both hands. “Wait, but I thought you didn’t have any music that’s finished.” You frown.

“Well, it’s not that we don’t, I just kinda wanted you to hear our new stuff first. But now that I think about it, this is as good a time as any. If you’re interested, a friend of ours is hosting a party and he asked a couple of artists to play for him. It’s at the Henz Club.”

“You mean that scary looking club in Mapo-gu?”

“Scary? I mean sure, some odd looking people hang around there, but they’re all pretty chill for the most part. Right Hongwon?”

Hongwon slaps his arm away. “Right. Well, you’re welcome to come but you don’t have to if you’re uncomfortable.” He supplies. “We’d understand if—oof!”

“Nonsense!” Hamin butts in, shoving his elbow into Hongwon’s side. “You can bring your friend over there if you want, so you don’t have to worry about being alone.” He motions his head in the direction of Hyeri who—not so discreetly—pretends like she hasn’t been trying to make out what the three of you have been talking about for the past 10 minutes.

“Ah, but either way we won’t ditch you after the performance, I promise. How about it?”

Hongwon is still recovering from having the wind knocked out of his lungs and before he knows it, somehow you’re agreeing and Hamin is giving you the details.

“I’m so excited, I can’t wait to hear you guys.” You say cheerfully.

“You should see this guy on stage,” Hamin gestures to Hongwon, “he really puts on a show. Like a true rockstar.”

“You know, you saying that doesn’t make me feel good,” Hongwon says with a frown, sitting back in his chair defeatedly.

“Oh and don’t be surprised if you hear a lot of screaming.” He ignores him, “There’s always a lot of fangirls, especially for Hongwon. They literally come in swarms, it's crazy.”

“Oh my god. Stop. You’re so embarrassing.” He groans, looking away.

“Wow, you’re really hyping him up,” you laugh.

“Ignore him. He’s just saying whatever the hell he wants.”

“No way, it’s really the truth.” He insists, folding his arms across his chest.

“Y/N! We need you in the back!” Yoongi calls out, his head poking out from the staff only door.

“I gotta go. I guess I’ll see you guys on Friday!” You say, waving. “Coming!” You call out, following after your coworker.

Hamin smiles stupidly as you leave. “Isn’t she sweet!”

Hamin and Hongwon hang around at the café for a few more hours until they decide to grab a bite to eat. For the remainder of the time they spent working on their music, Hongwon had not uttered a single word. The most Hamin had gotten out of him was a “sure” when he suggested they get burgers before heading home.

He exits his car, watching as Hongwon removes his helmet to fix the mess it makes of his hair.

Sighing deeply, Hamin leans against the side of his car, hitting the park button on his remote. “Come on, don’t be so cold. How long are you gonna give me the silent treatment for?”

He slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans, dreading to ask but needing to know. “Are you really that pissed off because I invited her?”

Hongwon slips the hollow side of his helmet onto the handlebar and mimics Hamin, leaning against his motorcycle. “Depends,” he says, taking out a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket to light one up, “why’d you invite her?”

Hamin considers his answer carefully, shifting his weight onto the other leg. It’s obvious that Hongwon is already upset, so anything he says will probably get him angry anyway. “I was hoping maybe you guys could hit off,” he says at last, deciding to be honest.

In truth, Hongwon isn’t surprised to hear this—he actually suspected it—but it still pisses him off nonetheless. It wasn’t the first time Hamin tried setting him up with someone. He wasn’t looking for a relationship. This was something he had told him countless times and yet, he continues to pull stunts like this.

“I know you said you aren’t looking for a relationship,” Hamin continues when he proceeds to bring the cigarette to his lips without a reply, “but I just think you could at least talk to her and—“

“And then what? We fall in love, get married and ride off into the sunset?” He cuts him off abruptly.

“No, I just—“ he starts to say but stops when he can’t think of how to word it correctly.

“I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking Y/N went through a bad breakup, and so did I. You think maybe the two of us can find the comfort we couldn’t find with our previous relationships, in each other.” He pauses to take a drag of his cigarette.

“I’m sorry to burst your bubble, but that's a load of shit. This idea you have that love can just make me forget about all my trauma, is a load of shit.” Hamin flinches at the sudden aggression in his tone. This really didn’t come across the way he intended it to.

“Guess what, I’m fucked up Hamin!” He continues, raking a frustrated hand through his hair. “I have too many damn issues and I don’t need some chick to try to figure me out or fix me. I told you already, I’m happy with the way things are. I’m not gonna play into your stupid games just because you want to play fuckin’ cupid.” Hongwon scowls, taking another drag of his cigarette.

Hamin keeps his gaze on the ground, frustrated with how easily and accurately Hongwon is able to guess what he’s thinking. He didn’t realize how terrible it all sounded out loud. He racks his brain for something—anything—to say and argue that those aren’t his intentions, but Hongwon is speaking again before he’s able to do so successfully.

“I don’t care if you invite her. Just don’t go expecting anything out of me.”

He nods his head weakly. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that, bro…” He says scratching his neck, “I’m not trying to find someone to fix you...” he trails off.

“It’s cool.” He sniffles, the cold air getting to him. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap like that.”

Hamin is taken aback for a second, not expecting him to apologize. He kicks the floor with his sneaker, “S’cool.”

“You still hungry?” Hamin asks, afraid that their little spat would create unnecessary tension between them.

Hongwon tosses his cigarette onto the floor to put it out with his sneaker. “Fuckin’ starving.”

You went home together with Hyeri later that afternoon once your shift was over. It was always nice to go home when the sun was setting and the air felt cooler. You loved how quiet the city got, allowing you to simply be one with your thoughts.

Unfortunately for you, today was not one of those days.

You release a sigh as you continue to pretend to not notice Hyeri’s constant fidgeting. “Hyeri, if you want to know so badly just ask already.”

She releases a giant breath as if she had been holding it this entire time. “Oh thank goodness because I felt like I was actually going to die if you didn’t say something soon,” she says grabbing your arm excitedly, like a puppy who was just called over by its owner.

“What were you doing with those two hotties I’ve never seen before?” You couldn’t tell what made her more excited―the fact that she found them so attractive or the fact that you were talking to men other than your coworkers. “Is one of them single?” she stops walking and gasps, “Are they both single?!”

An older lady walking her Chihuahua gives you a scornful look as she passes the two of you and you bring your finger to your lips to shush Hyeri. “Sorry,” she says with a giggle, “but this is huge!”

You pull her along with you to cross the short crosswalk and to the steps of your apartment complex, “It’s not a big deal. Besides, you’ve seen Hamin before.” You say, slipping your house key into the lock and opening the door.

“Okay but, this time there was another guy too. And you guys talked for like 20 minutes! On your shift!” She says, removing her shoes quickly to stand in front of you excitedly. You stop untying your shoelaces to give her a look.

“He’s a friend I made through Hamin. Who is also just my friend,” You tell her slowly as if you were explaining it to a child but you can tell by her smile that she’s not listening. You sigh and slip your work shoes off, putting them in the hallway closet. Hyeri hovers behind you, not wanting to be too pushy but also too worked up to leave you alone.

You stand up straight and turn around. “Okay fine. Hamin invited me to this party,” this already has Hyeri clasping her hands over mouth, “he and his friend are playing a gig for a friend—”

She’s squealing and jumping around before you can finish your sentence. “And they want you there as their plus one! Oh my—”

“But I think Hamin knows about the breakup and he feels bad and that’s why he invited me,” you say quickly. Hyeri stops mid spin to give you an incredulous look. “I mean, they kind of saw the whole thing since it happened at work,” you say glumly.

Hyeri wraps her arms around you when she sees how you deflate at the reminder. “Hey, don’t make such a sad face. You guys have been friends for a while now, right? I haven’t met the guy but I’m sure he invited you because he wants you there and not because he pities you.”

“Sorry. I think I’ve been trying too hard not to think about it so all the negative thoughts are really hitting me now,” you say, resting your head on her shoulder. She always had such a comforting mom warmth to her.

She releases you and gives you a comforting smile. “Do you want to go?”

“Well,” you sit on your bed exhausted, “I actually didn’t know Hamin played music until recently. I’ve really been wanting to hear some of his stuff and apparently his friend does music too..”

“Girl, there’s your answer! Who says you have to spend your days sad and alone after a breakup? If you want to go, go.” She encourages you. She had a point. Although somewhere in the back of your mind, you felt guilty. When Hamin invited you, you were super stoked and set on going but now that you were really thinking about it, you couldn’t help but think of Jaewon.

“I can tell you’re overthinking this,” Hyeri says. “Don’t. You’re a free woman! Free from a man who took advantage of you and didn’t know how to treasure you. Do whatever the fuck you want because it’s no one’s business. It’s not like you’re planning to go sleep around.” She crosses her arms across her chest, “and even if you are guess what, it’s still no one’s business.” She says vehemently.

You pick at your nails and bite your lip. “Okay.”

“Okay?!”

“Yeah, I’ll go.”

She squeals again and launches herself onto you. You land with an oof on your bed, her head barely missing yours by an arm hair. “Oh, one more thing though,” you manage to say from beneath her. “They kind of invited you too.”

Hyeri lifts herself up at this. She stares at you with wide eyes, “what do you mean?”

“I guess they saw us talking together and figured we were friends. Also, they caught you trying to eavesdrop on our conversation.” You tell her.

“Nooooooooooo,” she cries and runs to throw herself onto her bed face flat.

“It was the hiding behind an upside down textbook for me,” you snicker.

“Y/N, please I’m in the middle of dying of embarrassment.”

#Young B #yang hongwon #yang hongwon x reader #yanghongwon #Khiphop #khiphop reactions #khh #khh scenarios #kpop imagines #smtm8

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afewmarvelousthoughts · 4 years ago

Text

Falling Ch. 7

Master List: @afewmarvelousthoughtsadmin

Pairing: Bucky X Reader [and a few more to come]

Summary: For a moment you had something good, something wonderful. But moments pass. Now, left with nothing but the ashes of a life and a love you fought so hard for, you find yourself in a free fall. Who will you be once you hit the bottom? [Sequel to Only For A Moment but can be read independently.]

Warnings: Loss, grief, drug/alcohol abuse, violence

A/N: Hello again! So this is another shorter chapter but there is a lot happening. I think you can expect shorter chapters for the most part as we roll forward with this story (along the lines of the majority of Only For A Moment) because that’s easier for me to maintain.

There’s also some hints here about what we can expect from our reader in the future, lmk if you have thoughts!

TAGS ARE OPEN

“Oh for fucks sake!” Rocket yelled as your comm cut out. It was just as likely that you were dead as it was that you turned it off.

And if you weren’t dead he was tempted to fix that little problem.

“Nebula, do you have eyes on Trouble,” he found that was a better name for you.

“I’m a little busy!” She yells back.

He massages his temples as he tries to keep himself from outright screaming.

In moments like this, he actually misses the old you. At least when you spent your days in bed, drunk, silent, moving through the ship like some sad ghost he wasn’t worried you were going to get him killed.

He really should have appreciated those weeks of peace more. Never should have taken you to Contraxia, never should have coaxed you out of bed. What he should have done was leave well enough alone and just make sure you didn’t drink yourself into a quiet death.

But no. He just had to get involved.

Now, he was going to have to get out of this pod and find you. That was not the plan. He was supposed to stay in the damn pod. He was the eye in the sky.

But no. No, you had to go and make this complicated.

“I got it!” You say, comms coming in clear, just as he’s about to head down.

“What the fuck do you-”

“Did I stutter?” You huff, clearly running. “I got the payload and I’m heading to the drop point and-” Rocket can make out the sound of a large weapon behind you. “I’d really appreciate you being there right about now!”

“Neb-” He begins.

“En route,” she cuts him off.

He brings the pod down just as you and Nebula make it on the platform, behind you both a concerning amount of muscle in hot pursuit.

“What happened to quiet in and out?!” He screams.

“Just open the door rat!” Nebula yells. He notes that your arms were full of more than just the case you were all being paid to retrieve.

Between you and Nebula, he was pretty sure he was headed toward a much earlier grave. Grumbling he lays down cover fire as he lowers enough for you both to board the pod.

“Woo!” You exclaim as Rocket coaxes the pod as fast as it can go toward the Benetar. “Not too bad.”

“You realize you’re bleeding profusely, yes?” Nebula asks.

Rocket glances back. He’d assumed the blood on your face was from someone else. Now he can see a deep gash splitting the right side of your face from forehead to below your cheekbone.

“Yeah,” you sigh. “Ca’al was aiming to take my head though, so I’d say I came out better than expected.”

“Can’t imagine why he’d want your head,” Rocket rolls his eyes as he docks the pod.

“It’s a mystery,” you say as the hatch opens.

“Wait…” Nebula says, hovering in the pod after the two of you have disembarked.

“Ergons take honor pretty seriously,” Rocket says. “Which is why ‘not fucking the mark’s wife’ is high on the list of things not to do when you’re trying to keep a job low key.”

“There was a list?” You quip, turning to face them, smiling despite the wound.

“I’m beginning to think all Terrans are like this,” Nebula says low to him.

“Possibly.” You drop the contents in your arms, kicking a case toward Rocket. “That’s what we came for. And I’ll split the rest if someone will help with this,” you gesture to your face.

“I’m tempted to let you bleed out,” Rocket says as he opens the case. Five tubes filled with glowing viscous liquid are nestled tightly inside.

“Gonna have to wait for a bigger wound for that,” you say as you have a seat.

“With your track record, Trouble, I don’t think I’ll have to wait long.”

You shrug, “I’m apparently like a cockroach.”

“What does that mean?” Nebula asks as she examines the cut.

“Very hard to get rid of,” you hiss the last word.

“Are they formidable beasts?”

“They’re Earth vermin,” Rocket says as he takes inventory of your haul. He hated to admit that it was impressive. Whatever your shortcomings, you were an exceptional thief--he had to respect that at least.

“Same thing,” you say standing. “I mean, look at you.”

“Very funny,” he smiles despite himself.

“This is likely going to scar,” Nebula says.

You shrug, “It’ll just enhance my roguish charm.”

“And piss off the Captain,” Rocket grumbles as he locks the case you’d all been paid to retrieve into one of the storage crates.

“So you admit I’m charming?” He throws a sideways glance at you as Nebula forces your smirking face back to her. “Ow!”

“Who said you were charming?” Rocket asks. “I just don’t want any lectures about ethics and safety from Cap.”

“Which, Cap?”

“Either.” He inspects a container of very high-grade ammo. “How’d you know where this shit was? No way it was just out in the open.”

You peek around an exasperated Nebula once more, “There are benefits to fucking the mark’s wife.”

“Stay still!” Nebula snaps. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose the eye.”

Rocket shakes his head. Lucky may be a better nickname than Trouble.

The way you managed to walk a razor edge, never quite tipping one way or the other was impressive. And every job you’d been in on over the last eight months ended up in a payday at least twice what they’d bargained for. Still, there was an all too familiar air of self-destruction about everything you did. Like you wanted something to tip you, slide the scales just a bit past no return.

When he looks back he notices the slightest tremor in your right hand.

Back on earth, he’d seen it a few times, mainly when emotions were high. No one else seemed to notice it, how each time the air rippled just a bit as some of your hold on that insane telekinetic ability of yours slipped.

These days, more often than not, it meant you needed a drink.

“There,” Nebula declares. “That’s the best I can do.”

When she stepped back he could see that Nebula’s best was actually pretty good. The gash had been reduced to a raised bright pink stripe bisecting your left brow, stopping in the middle of your cheek.

“Thanks, Nebula,” you say sincerely. A whir comes from the main cabin as a bottle flies into your open right hand.

“So, how much we got?” You ask as you open the bottle.

“Can probably get 4,000 credits from the ammo alone,” he holds out his hand and you pass him the bottle. No reason he can’t benefit from your vices.

“Hear that, Nebula? At least 2k each for the ammo.”

“Excuse me?” He passes the bottle back to you.

“Did you help fix my face?”

“My ship. I get a cut of everything, Trouble.”

“I only helped because I was getting half,” Nebula manages something between a grimace and a smile.

Rocket playfully rolls his eyes, “Then you can take her half.”

“The disrespect,” you say on a sigh. “Bleed for your crew, then they cut you out.”

“Yeah, yeah. Such a martyr,” he says over his shoulder as he heads toward the deck. “We’ll get the best deal on Paramatar. We’ll get paid for the case then head there.”

Paramatar was a bad idea. A very, very bad idea.

The money was too good and the distractions too plentiful. Not Contraxia levels of plentiful, but what it lacked in variety it made up for in cost. Everything save for information and ammo was cheap.

He should have kept an eye on you. Or at least asked Nebula to since she couldn’t help but stay sober.

Yes, luck seemed to favor you more times than not. You were also heartier then most humans from what he could tell and you’d picked up on how things worked out here quickly. Still, there were substances and situations you didn’t know were better left alone.

Or maybe you did know and chose to ignore sense.

Who could say? Because when Nebula found you half dead after two days there wasn’t anyone around who knew what happened.

“We should take her home,” Nebula said after the medic left with assurances that you weren’t about to die. “They can help.”

He doubted that. Still, he knew it was the best call. Plus, he could use some peace.

Warm morning sun filtered in through the window, making the few silvery strands in Bucky’s hair shine.

He sat between your legs on the living room floor with his back against the couch. As your fingers combed through the silky mass of hair, his fingers massaged your right calf, still sore from Okoye’s brutal training the day before.

This had become your ritual most mornings.

Usually Bucky was the first out of bed, proving that he was far more a morning person than you’d ever manage to become. He’d start coffee, put on some music, and slip back into bed to wake you before your alarm went off.

It was the best way to begin your day.

Once up you’d down a cup of coffee, talk about nothing, then by cup two he’d be sitting just as he was now--humming along to whatever song played while you methodically sectioned off his hair to braid it back.

The first morning you’d done it on a whim. You frequently found your fingers tangled in those beautiful dark locks and had just happened to put it in a french braid.

That evening he’d casually mentioned how good it was to not have his hair in the face while he worked.

You knew he’d never actually ask. He was constantly concerned he would somehow inconvenience you or be a burden as it was. So since then you’d just begun doing it, without coaxing or preamble.

When you finished he let out a long content sigh, leaning his cheek against your bare thigh.

“Thank you,” he placed a kiss on your knee.

“Of course,” you leaned over, kissing the tender flesh just behind his ear. He hummed with satisfaction, turning his head to look up at you. The morning light turned his eyes a beautiful icy grey-blue.

“I love you, doll,” he says, eyes crinkling as he smiles.

“I love-” you hiss in a breath as pain tears through your skull.

He doesn’t react, doesn’t move, just sits between your legs smiling… Before he turns to dust.

You try to call his name, scream, anything but the all-consuming thrum of your power prevents you from doing anything but sit in frozen agony.

Like an angry beast it thrashes inside your skull, zinging down your spine, until every nerve ending in your body burns with it.

Stop, you don’t know to whom or what you’re begging but it’s all you can manage.

The edges of your vision begin to blur, your warm Wakandan living room fading to an endless swirl of colors and shapes before shadow crept in. Those shadows swelled consuming everything leaving you in an endless, familiar, void.

By now, this place--realm, or whatever it was that your mind saw when your perception went beyond what you were capable of comprehending--was starting to feel familiar. When you last found yourself here, after a night of too much excess, you’d thought of it as The Nothing.

This time a different thought pushes its way in from somewhere in the abyss.

Oblivion, it whispers.

Yes. That felt right. The perfect word for this void that seemed to exist between all things.

Absently, you wonder if you should feel fear rather than this strange sense of peace. Even the hunger that never left you, the howling need for power the stones planted in the marrow of your bones seemed sated, as though there was power enough hidden in the darkness.

Yes, that same whisper from nowhere and everywhere replies.

Now, the fear comes. You will yourself back, forcing your mind to grasp for existence like a drowning man reaches for the surface.

You shoot upright, gasping for air, squinting in the bright afternoon sun.

Sun shone bright on your face.

This was not your dim room on the Benatar.

And…

“About time,” Steve says groggily from a chair in the corner.

“How?” You croak.

He stands, stretching, and crosses the room to fill a glass of water from the decanter by your bed. You take it gratefully, though you feel the ache for something stronger.

“Rocket and Nebula brought you back yesterday.”

Yesterday.

Futility, you try to piece together a series of events.

The three of you had landed on Paramatar, offloaded the haul, split the credits, and… Things got hazy after that.

“Apparently, you’ve been unconscious for over three days,” he sat on the edge of the bed, looking you over. “You look like shit by the way.”

“Thanks,” you say, voice still rough. “You don’t look dewey either.” His hair had grown longer, his beard thick, the circles under his eyes spoke to too many sleepless nights.

“Shocked you remember what I look like,” he snips.

The shot hits its mark and guilt blooms in your chest.

It had been at least 5 months since you’d spoken to him. Once you’d managed to make it back to something closer to a human you simply couldn’t stand the reminder that speaking to him brought, that you had to come back here eventually. You’d wanted to leave everything. Forget about everything you could manage to and become someone else.

“Sorry,” you say, unable to look at him.

“It’s ok,” his voice sounds distant. When you look at him his gaze is in the middle distance, elbows resting on his knees. “Maybe we all need space.”

He sighs, “Clint left. We don’t know where he is.”

“Natasha?”

“She’s hanging on. Tried to find him but didn’t have any luck.”

“He’ll come back around,” you said with more conviction than you felt.

“Yeah,” he plucks a non-existent piece of lint from his sweatpants.

“I gotta head out soon, some kind of situation brewing in Brazil. Don’t know how long it’ll be,” he runs a hand over his face. “But I assume Rocket and Nebula won’t be hanging around too much longer since you’re up.”

So they had stuck around. More guilt bubbles up.

“And I assume you’ll be going with them.”

It isn’t a question but you answer anyway, “Yeah.” He nods, looking down at his hands.

The silence hangs for several pregnant minutes.

Your palms itch to reach out to him, your heart screams at you to say something, anything. But you just sit.

“Y/N…” his voice almost makes you jump. “On the beach when we…” He clears his throat, “You told me I could go… If I needed to.”

Your stomach drops and with it some of your control.

You had said that. Told Steve that if he was too tired to keep fighting in this life that he had your blessing to leave. Your only request-

“But that I couldn’t go without saying goodbye.”

“Steve,” your voice trembles.

He looks at you then, blue eyes unfathomably sad. Without hesitation you reach out for his hand. Gratitude floods you when he doesn’t pull away.

“The same goes for you,” beneath his words is a barely contained flood of emotions.

“This wasn’t-”

“Don’t,” he shakes his head. Gently he touches the new scar by your eye.

You nod. This was one thing you knew you couldn’t hide from him no matter how hard you tried. It was a game he’d played for longer than you’d been alive. Tempting fate, daring it to kill him.

“Not without goodbye,” he says in almost a whisper.

“Not without goodbye,” you promise and, begrudgingly, you mean it.

He gives your hand a squeeze before he stands, places a kiss on top of your head, and turns to leave.

“Oh and, Y/N…”

“Yeah?”

“Take a shower,” he turns and winks.

“Fuck you, Rogers,” you smile despite everything.

“Don’t die,” he says as he walks out.

“You too.”

With effort you drag your aching body from the bed and make your way to the bathroom. Under the bright light you groan.

Steve had not been wrong. You did look like shit.

The scar Ca’al had graced you with was still bright pink and puffy. Far from roguish or charming. Your cheek bones jutted out in sharp angles, lips pale and cracked. And your hair had grown long enough that the ends had started to curl, making you look like a tired crusty mop.

Only after a minute do you even notice your eyes. They’d become a normal feature, whites shot through with bloody lightning cracks, the tear ducts an angry shade of red.

As you observe yourself the mirror begins to tremble.

“Fuck,” you groan, doubling over to press your forehead to the cool bathroom counter.

Once you feel your control tighten just enough you head straight for your bag, praying that-

Your fingers curl around a small smooth rectangular bottle and you let out a grateful breath. Rocket must have slipped it in. The Ciegrimitian liquor was strong, a touch bitter, and reminded you of roses. It was a favorite.

After two swallows you feel the power inside you settle.

You stare at the slightly iridescent golden pink liquid in the bottle shifting it so it swirls and catches the light.

Maybe it was possible that you could re-learn to control your abilities, after all, you had gotten far more proficient through training with Bucky and later in Wakanda. But that was before the stones.

If Shuri had been right, and she usually had been, your subconscious built barriers around your ability to protect you. While you could push those barriers by honing your ability, strengthening it like any muscle through time and focus, those barriers would and should always remain. The human mind could only be expected to process so much.

Now, if you were right, those barriers were gone. You had no idea how to begin rebuilding them. If you did you weren’t sure you had the energy to care.

Maybe in time…

Time. Weeks. Months. Years. All without Bucky.

You’d rather lose yourself to that Oblivion than think about the stretch of life laid out before you.

As you lift the bottle to take another drink your fist closes on nothing. A few remaining inches of the bottom of the bottle clatter to the floor, spilling the contents.

This wasn’t new, sometimes you lost your grip and your power… unmade something. This time though-

A cry lodges itself in your throat, threatening to choke you.

Around the edges of the piece on the floor and swirling in your hand between the glittering specks of dust--all that remains of the top of the bottle--is a deep undulating blackness. Not shadow, not darkness, a pure absence of everything.

Oblivion, a whisper from somewhere far away calls in your mind.

You bolt for the bathroom, slamming the door behind you, pressing your fist to your mouth to keep from screaming.

It feels like hours before your heart stops trying to beat through your chest and you’re able to draw a full breath. Only then do you realize that, just like in that void, you don’t feel the hunger. Only then do you realize how silent your power is.

The woman in the mirror stares at you with eyes that are less painfully bloodshot than before, the bruise-like hollows beneath them lighter. Her cheeks seem fractionally fuller.

The changes do not feel like an improvement. They feel like abomination.

Demon. Maybe your mother’s husband and M’Baku had been on to something there.

In the shower you decide to bury this. It was a fluke, or maybe even a hallucination. Maybe you were still recovering from the overdose, your body reacting poorly to another substance being put into it. That was it.

“And she lives to make trouble another day!” Rocket calls out from in front of the TV as you make your way to the kitchen in the common area.

“Much to your chagrin,” you say, opening a cabinet.

“Coffee is in the one on the left,” Natasha pipes up. She takes a seat at the island. “I’ll take some too,” her wan smile doesn’t reach her own tired eyes.

You open the can of Bustelo and breathe in the rich smell. It reminds you of better times--of bodega breakfasts before you knew there was such a thing as Hydra, of slow music-filled afternoons with Bucky. Quickly you blink away the tears threatening to fall.

It was just coffee.

For several minutes the only sound was the burble of the coffee pot and the drone of the flatscreen. The lack of conversation didn’t feel awkward so much as tired, everyone worn down by the grief and turmoil of the last 11 months.

When the coffee was done you poured Natasha a cup, grabbing the half and half from the fridge, remembering her preference from when you’d been on the run with the fractured Avengers. She nodded her thanks, silently fixing her cup.

Your own black brew sent a shiver of pleasure down your spine, a hum of satisfaction slipping free.

“I mean it’s good but I don’t know if it’s that good,” Natasha teases.

“Haven’t had coffee since I left,” you say savoring another sip. Her brows raise at that. Honestly, the fact that you’d hardly missed it was more concerning than your increased drinking habit.

“Maybe we should bring some,” Rocket sniffs the air. “Smells nice.”

You meet his gaze, relief flooding you. A part of you had been afraid that you wouldn’t be welcome back on the Benatar. Honestly, you wouldn’t have blamed them if that was the case. Rocket called you Trouble for a reason after all.

“I will try it,” Nebula announces as she takes a seat beside Natasha.

“Alright. You?” Rocket nods.

You pour a small amount for Nebula and use an espresso cup for Rocket.

Nebula downs her’s in one go, face crinkling. You can’t help but laugh.

“Bitter but palatable,” she says.

“Just like you,” you quip.

Nebula almost smiles, “Is there more?”

The next few hours feel almost normal. No one talked about grief or loss. Natasha complained about the foods that were in short supply, Rocket bitched about prices on contraband being low. You told Natasha the weirder things about space, funny things, like hurling when the ship lost gravity for a few hours. Just friends catching up over coffee.

Except it wasn’t. And, by the end, that fact had left a bitter taste in your mouth.

By the time you got on the Benatar the next afternoon, that bitterness had fermented into rage that no amount of drink was going to cool.

You needed to hit something. Hard.