#''for each note this gets ill take one dab''

[tittyinfinity]

Just took a dab that was 50% cat hair and almost threw up

[angryschnauzer]

On Your Knees - Part 2

Summary; The morning after part 1, Sherlock wakes with a hangover, and by his own deducing figures out what he did to you the previous night. The thought of you only drives him further into desire, and he has a need only you can assist with.

Fandom: Henry Cavill, Enola Holmes Movies.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Oral Sex (Male receiving), Blowjob, moody Sherlock, Sassy Maid, outdated terminology for housekeeping staff.

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Female Reader

Word count: 2258

Here is my masterlist and AO3

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

On Your Knees - Part 2

Sherlock woke to the feeling of a bayonet piercing his skull. Or at least that’s what his hangover felt like as he cursed the shard of sunlight coming in through the curtains. Peering tentatively out of one eye he watched dust dance in the golden rays for a moment before he licked his parched lips and a taste hit him like a carriage out of control on Fleet Street. 

He sat up, bringing his hand to his lips as his tongue darted out to double check and that’s when the scent on his finger hit his nose; he’d definitely had his mouth and hand between the thighs of a woman the night before. His eyes quickly scanned the room, nothing was out of place or stolen, and as he quickly checked his wallet it was still in his pocket. Pulling it out he checked it and it still was sizeably full meaning he hadn’t spent any time at the Adler house of ill repute, and he hadn’t brought a whore home with him. 

He stood and immediately regretted it, falling onto his backside on the chaise lounge and his blue dressing gown landing in a crumpled heap on the floor. Just at that moment he heard footsteps in the hallway outside, his eyes moving to his door and that’s when the memory hit him; the maid.

“Oh no” he sighed as he raked his hand down his face. What was it that Lestrade always said? Oh yes, ‘Never piss in your own backyard’, and it was usually when a cheating Lord was caught bringing a mistress to his home, but likewise it was also for those that had dalliances with the help. With another sigh he stood, albeit slower this time, grabbed the crumpled fabric from the floor, crossed the room to press the bell for breakfast, and made his way to his bathroom.

Running cool water into the sink, Sherlock stripped and washed himself down, ridding his skin of the pipe smoke from the Pub, and the lingering scent of her, as alluring as it was. Standing at the basin he peered into the mirror before deciding he needed a shave, and rather than take a trip to the barber he opted to pull out his straight blade himself. Lathering the soap he smoothed it over his jaw, feeling the bones beneath and noting how they ached a little. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he realised why they may ache, as clearer memories of fucking her with his tongue came back. He felt a faint stirring in his loose pyjama trousers he’d pulled on, glancing down and letting out an appreciative grunt as he saw his member swelling slightly beneath the loose cotton fabric. Pride was a wicked sin, but he knew he was generously endowed and had a learned skill for driving a woman crazy in bed. Shaking his head he pushed any thoughts from his mind as he concentrated on his shave, but his mind continued to stray back to her. He had to admit he’d thought of her many times before the previous night. Watching her rounded bottom as she’d swept the hearth whilst he’d been conducting an experiment, admiring her bosom when she’d been in the hallway without her apron and he’d been able to see her womanly shape. 

With his shave finished he rinsed his face and let the water drain away, dabbing his jawline with a soft towel before he heard a knock at the main door followed by a cheerful greeting;

“Mr Holmes? I have your breakfast Sir”

Pulling his blue dressing gown on he rushed for the bathroom door, quickly stepping out and through his bedroom, meeting the maid, her, in his parlour;

“Good Morning Miss. Thank you”

She smiled her usual smile and nodded, setting the tray down on the cluttered table, before nodding to the fire that was slowly dying away to embers;

“I’ll just get that for you then i’ll be out of your way Sir”

Sherlock let out a huff. It was as if nothing had happened, she was breezing about as if he didn’t make her cum on his tongue and fingers not twelve hours before! He crossed the room, standing at her side with his hands on his hips before she glanced and did a double take;

“Sir?”

“Was I not good?”

“I’m sorry, Sir?”

“Did I not bring you to climax?”

She held the iron poker in her hand before setting it down with a soft sigh, lifting her gaze to meet his as he stood over her;

“Sir, yes you did, and very well at that”

“So is there an issue?”

“The issue Sir, with all due respect, that if i act improper around you Sir, Mrs Hudson would have me kicked out for impropriety”

Sherlock felt the somewhat childish anger dissipate from him like a set of bagpipes left to deflate after a parade;

“Oh”

“And i don’t have anywhere else to go, so as good as you were, i have to pretend you didn’t give me the best fanny lick i’d ever had in my life”

“Oh” he paused; “Have you had many?”

“Just a couple. The lad that delivers the firewood sometimes…”

“Ah” Sherlock paused, a memory coming back to him; “I once overheard him talking about a young maid that’d sucked him off and she’d been the best he’d ever had…” the realisation hit him and he looked down again, noticing a smirk on her face as she tended to the fire before setting the poker down.

Wiping her hands on her apron she pulled up onto her knees and set her hands onto his thighs;

“Mrs Hudson has gone to church” she said matter of factly, to which Sherlock glanced at the clock on the mantel and saw it wasn’t even 11am meaning the Sunday service hadn’t finished yet. Pulling his attention to his wanton little maid on her knees before him, he cocked an eyebrow as she parted his blue robe and palmed his generous length through the soft fabric of his trousers.

“We have at least thirty minutes before she returns” 

“You’ll last thirty minutes?”

“Depends how good you are”

With skilled fingers she untied his trousers and let the soft fabric fall to his ankles, an appreciative noise rumbling from her throat as she took in his thick thighs, adorned with dark hair, before she finally turned her gaze to the magnificent cock hanging between his legs, his sack full and ready behind as they nestled in a dark thatch of hair. The whine that Sherlock let out as her warm hand wrapped around his meat was far from dignified, but as she took his soft cock into her mouth he hardened rapidly, growing thick and hot, his girth stretching her grip and filling her mouth as she opened her jaw wider. 

Letting the saliva pool on her tongue she worked as much of his length into her mouth as she could, the crown bumping against her tonsils as she swallowed against the gag reflex.

“OH! Good Lord” Sherlock cursed, one hand flying out to grip at the marble mantlepiece, the other settling on top of her head. His knees shook a little as he struggled to control himself from the sheer delights she was giving with her tongue, until he couldn’t take it any more for fear he’d collapse from sheer pleasure. Pulling away her mouth made an audible pop as he pulled out, quickly scooping her up into his arms as his mouth found hers and he kissed her with a hunger he hadn’t found before. 

She softened in his grasp, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as she clung to his shoulders and returned his affections, the pair finally parting breathless and flushed;

“You are a wicked young woman, and I definitely wouldn’t last 30 minutes still standing” Sherlock said matter of fact, carefully kicking off his trousers as he walked across the room before sitting in a large leather chair. With a smile on her face she slid down until she was kneeling on the floor between his thick thighs, running her palms over the hot skin before she took him into her mouth again.

In an instant Sherlock was taken to the heights of pleasure. He would never have guessed the innocent looking maid was a wicked temptress with her tongue, but dear lord she could do things with her mouth that even the best paid ladies at the Adler house couldn’t even attempt to do as well. 

When she pulled off his shaft he let out a whimper of loss, until she started to pump him with her fist whilst suckling on his heavy sack;

“Uuuuuugggffhhfhfff” Sherlocks eyes practically rolled back in their sockets, and as his maid gave his balls the same treatment as a whole oyster would be swallowed, he feared he would cum right then until she thankfully released him. His respite was only momentarily lived, as she swallowed his shaft whole, surely taking him deeper into her gullet than was in any way possible, but the restriction of her narrow throat around his wide head, all whilst her tongue worked on the thick tendon that ran the length of the underside it was too much to bear. With a shout and a curse he held her head still as he came, pumping thick ropes of his creamy seed down her throat as she swallowed around him, enticing further roars from his lips as the squeezing of his sensitive flesh pushed him to the point of overstimulation. With a sigh he passed out, his head falling back onto the cushion of the chair.

-

Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand you lifted off of Sherlock and set his swollen but softening cock gently on his thigh. For a moment you just watched him, his chest rising and falling slowly as his mind was no doubt buzzing with the sensations you’d just bestowed upon him. You chuckled quietly, pushing yourself to your feet before crossing the room and pouring him a cup of tea from the pot, adding milk and sugar as you knew he favoured, before crossing back to him and gently tapping his cheek with your hand;

“Mr Holmes… I have your tea, Sir”

Blinking and sitting a little straighter, he looked at you and to the teacup, before nodding and taking the cup in both hands, shaking a little as he lifted it to his lips and sipped quietly. Setting the saucer on the small table beside him, you carefully lifted the sides of his dressing gown and covered him, tying the belt loosely.

“Toast?”

He nodded quietly, his dark curls now unruly on his head, no doubt his mind empty for the first time in a long time. You prepared his toast how you knew he liked it, a layer of marmalade with brown sugar sprinkled on top, and returned to him with a plate;

“You should eat, the sugar will help with your head and stop it from spinning”

“How did you…?”

“Know? Mr Holmes, I may not be that experienced, but i have done that before. And I had to give the lad that brings the firewood a slice of dundee cake to stop his head spinning afterwards. Mrs Hudson thought he was just feeling faint from carrying the logs in”

Sherlock nodded, quietly chewing on the toast as you busied yourself tidying what you could and stoking the fire again. When you’d finished you stood in front of him with your hands clasped behind your back, and just at that moment you heard Mrs Hudson return from church;

“Well, unless there is anything else Sir, i’ll have to be going to help prepare luncheon”

“Oh… yes, no. I suppose nothing i could legitimately keep you here for”

A little smile tugged at Sherlocks mouth before a flash of inspiration crossed his face;

“Does Mrs Hudson still attend her Bridge Club on a Monday evening?”

“Yes she does, Sir”

“I may have need for you then, she’s usually gone all evening so will give us time to discuss an arrangement, if you are so inclined?”

“Yes Sir, she leaves at 7.30pm Sir”

“Fantastic”

“Any special requests Sir?”

“Requests?”

“Yes, perhaps a request for a late supper?”

Sherlock stood and crossed the room, only stopping when he was just inches from you. Hooking his finger beneath your chin he ran his thumb over your lips;

“Well there is something i’d like another taste of… wear your uniform, but no bloomers”

Sucking his thumb into your mouth you nodded as your tongue laved over the thick and calloused pad, before releasing him with a pop;

“Yes Sir”

With a low growl he squeezed your bottom with one hand as his other opened the door for you, just as Mrs Hudson was walking past;

“Thank you for breakfast Miss” he turned to Mrs Hudson; “I require a late supper tomorrow night, i’m finding I have a hunger in the evenings”

Mrs Hudson nodded;

“I’ll be a Bridge Club Mr Holmes, but she’ll be able to assist you with whatever you need Sir”

“Wonderful” he beamed, watching the older housekeeper stalk off down the corridor as his young maid followed, a sway to her hips he hadn’t noticed before.

He closed the door and sighed, he really was treading dangerous waters but was fully prepared to submerge himself fully.

[neverregretthyfall]

AcTUM's Les Misérables

A few days I made a post about our local university adapting Les Mis for stage. Yesterday I went to watch the premiere and I really enjoyed it! It was super good and very engaging, the actors were fantastic and you could feel that they definitely read the brick as well. Unfortunately the pacing moved very fast and I think those not familiar with Les Mis might have gotten a little bit lost on occasion. All in all, I can definitely recommend going to the other two performances (June 17th and 18th) if you want to experience it for yourself.

Check out their website or their Instagram for more information (all in German).

Below you will find extensive notes on the stage play, keep reading if you’re curious ….

Technicalities: Modern AU, unspecified locations (just capitol city, smalltown, etc.), duration 2.5h (incl. intermission). The main message of the play was acceptance, tolerance and to show kindness to others.

(I will not rehash every plot-related detail that remains unchanged from the book, because otherwise this would get thrice as long)

‘Montreuil-sur-Mer’ (the smalltown) arc

We opened on JVJ being the mayor. He is the boss of a soup kitchen and to ease us into the story he talks to a new worker about his past. Unfortunately I cannot remember now if he really opened up about his own experiences or if he claims this happened to ‘a friend’.

Fantine is a recovering drug and alcohol addict and now works at JVJ’s soup kitchen. Due to her addiction she was forced by the court to give up Cosette into foster care (to the Thénardiers).

A letter sent to her by the court reveals her past to the colleagues and forewoman and Fantine is subsequently fired.

As she is now out of a job she turns to do illegal sex-work; they used some real cool shadow-play to show that, really enjoyed that part!

During this time she gets sick and is then caught by Javert, who wants to send her to jail for illegal prostitution. Fantine really panics then because she fears with a prison-sentence the court will never allow her to see Cosette ever again (!!)

The Arras plot is condensed to JVJ monologuing at the hospital with Javert overhearing him. While trying to arrest him, Fantine grabs a vase and knocks Javert unconscious (heck yeah, go Fantine!!). She then passes away from a combination of exhaustion and illness (one of the occasions that probably left non-fans super confused lol)

JVJ takes Fantine’s scarf as a memento and disappears …

Transition of dead Fantine rising and singing a song (aria) to Cosette (it was beautiful and very touching, I was super close to crying)

After getting Cosette from the Thénardiers, JVJ gives her Fantine’s scarf <3

‘Paris’ (the capitol city) arc

In true Marie (aka our Marius) and Cosette fashion they just stared at each other in the park, to shy to talk but really wanting to. Cosette then got called away by JVJ and accidentally left the scarf on the bench. Marie took it and vowed to find her again.

Marie studies law (as expected) and is an orphan (which she revealed super late).

Éponine is crushing hard on Marie, even reading a law book to impress her <3

Gavroche was super cool, he sang, made jokes, got the best one-liners and dabbed lol.

They included all of Thénardier’s aliases and he discovered the advantages of doing the ‘grandparent scam’ lmao.

Amis are introduced by running through the auditorium protesting, whistling, etc.

They are primarily fighting for queer rights (!!!)

Amis Count: 6/9

Named: Enjolras, Grantaire, Courfeyrac, Joly

Unnamed: one of the actresses said something very Combeferre-vibe-y, so I just decided that’s her then, lol; the other one I have absolutely no clue, Marie said to her at the barricade that she still owed her some money, which would make me think it’s Courfeyrac but he was played by somebody else, so alas, it shall remain a mystery ….

We got the ‘You don’t believe in anything / I believe in you exchange’.

Grantaire’s red waist coat was replaced by a huge-ass Enjolras-inspired tattoo on his chest, which was absolutely fantastic.

Making Marisette queer really improved the story, and especially Marie’s arc. Now Marie had a concrete reason for joining the Amis at the barricade (fighting for her rights).

We got super close to Cosette actually joining the fight, but in the end she didn’t unfortunately …

Lamarque’s funeral got replaced by a demonstration for queer rights, as expected the demo turns violent due to police brutality.

The Amis sang both a protest song and later – during the barricade fight – a drinking song (very DYHTPS and Drink with Me vibes)

Joly got very bad stomach ache when the fighting started but obviously he would never abandon his friends :')

When Javert got revealed as a spy, Enjolras threatened to shoot him and you could see how badly her hands shook (possibly an easter egg to ‘He could be your brother / He is’ ?)

Amis fought back bravely against heavy armoured police but alas, they did not make it this time either, rip …

permets-tu was fully included, long live the republic and handholding inclusive (!!)

Javert died via gun to the head.

The ending was super hopeful, during the four months Marie recovered in the hospital, queer rights improved and the biggest surprise of it all: JVJ survived!!

End Quote (paraphrased because I cannot remember the exact wording and I also have to translate it to English): “Freedom is a right but it's also a privilege that was bought with the courage of others!”

Various notes on appearances:

Thénardier looked straight outta the 70s (sans hair), fantastic outfit, 10/10

Enjolras wore a lime-green pantsuit and she looked absolutely excellent

The Amis had different coloured fabrics across their wrists, which I am pretty sure combined to the rainbow flag

Joly wore make-up and nail polish

unknown person at the demo: incredible hippie-look, also 10/10

Éponine had her hair up in some super cute buns decorated with violet ribbons <3

Gavroche gave hipster child vibes

Marie wore chic pants and top (she looked both elegant and laissez-faire)

Cosette wore a black pencil skirt, combined with a violet top and the pink scarf

Javert wore a very nice long black coat and a fedora

JVJ blending in with the rest and wearing a simple sweater/shirt combination

Courfeyrac wore simple slacks and a patterend shirt-top

Grantaire had a very revealing thin shirt/blouse thing going on combined with an orange/red scarf

Well, that's it! Thank you for reading up until this point. If you get the chance, please go watch this stageplay or check out their other works <3

[mcmansionhell]

Underground, Part 1

[Author’s Note: A year ago, when waiting for the DC Metro, I came up with an idea for a short story involving two realtors and the infamous Las Vegas Underground House, typed up an outline, and shoved it away in my documents where it sat neglected until this month. The house recently resurfaced on Twitter, and combined with almost a year of quarantine, the story quickly materialized. Though I rarely write fiction, I decided I’d give it a shot as a kind of novelty McMansion Hell post. I’ve peppered the story with photos from the house to break up the walls of text. Hopefully you find it entertaining. I look forward to returning next month with the second installment of this as well as our regularly scheduled McMansion content. Happy New Year!

Warning: there’s lots of swearing in this.]

Underground

Back in 1997, Mathieu Rino, the son of two Finnish mechanical engineers who may or may not have worked intimately with the US State Department, changed his name to Jay Renault in order to sell more houses. It worked wonders.

He gets out of the car, shuts the door harder than he should. Renault wrinkles his nose. It’s a miserable Las Vegas afternoon - a sizzling, dry heat pools in ripples above the asphalt. The desert is a place that is full of interesting and diverse forms of life, but Jay’s the kind of American who sees it all as empty square-footage. He frowns at the dirt dusting up his alligator-skin loafers but then remembers that every lot, after all, has potential. Renault wipes the sweat from his leathery face, slicks back his stringy blond hair and adjusts the aviators on the bridge of his nose. The Breitling diving watch crowding his wrist looks especially big in the afternoon glare. He glances at it.

“Shit,” he says. The door on the other side of the car closes, as though in response. 

If Jay Renault is the consummate rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xer trying to sell houses to other rich, out-of-touch Gen-Xers, then Robert Little is his millennial counterpart. Both are very good at their jobs. Robert adjusts his tie in the reflection of the Porsche window, purses his lips. He’s Vegas-showman attractive, with dark hair, a decent tan, and a too-bright smile - the kind of attractive that ruins marriages but makes for an excellent divorcee. Mildly sleazy.

“Help me with these platters, will you?” Renault gestures, popping the trunk. Robert does not want to sweat too much before an open house, but he obliges anyway. They’re both wearing suits. The heat is unbearable. A spread of charcuterie in one hand, Jay double-checks his pockets for the house keys, presses the button that locks his car. 

Both men sigh, and their eyes slowly trail up to the little stucco house sitting smack dab in the center of an enormous lot, a sea of gravel punctuated by a few sickly palms. The house has the distinct appearance of being made of cardboard, ticky-tacky, a show prop. Burnt orange awnings don its narrow windows, which somehow makes it look even more fake. 

“Here we go again,” Jay mutters, fishing the keys out of his pocket. He jiggles them until the splintered plywood door opens with a croak, revealing a dark and drab interior – dusty, even though the cleaners were here yesterday. Robert kicks the door shut with his foot behind him.

 “Christ,” he swears, eyes trailing over the terrible ecru sponge paint adorning the walls. “This shit is so bleak.”

The surface-level house is mostly empty. There’s nothing for them to see or attend to there, and so the men step through a narrow hallway at the end of which is an elevator. They could take the stairs, but don’t want to risk it with the platters. After all, they were quite expensive. Renault elbows the button and the doors part. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” he says as they step inside. The fluorescent lights above them buzz something awful. A cheery metal sign welcomes them to “Tex’s Hideaway.” Beneath it is an eldritch image of a cave, foreboding. Robert’s stomach’s in knots. Ever since the company assigned him to this property, he’s been terrified of it. He tells himself that the house is, in fact, creepy, that it is completely normal for him to be ill at ease. The elevator’s ding is harsh and mechanical. They step out. Jay flips a switch and the basement is flooded with eerie light. 

It’s famous, this house - The Las Vegas Underground House. The two realtors refer to it simply as “the bunker.” Built by an eccentric millionaire at the height of Cold War hysteria, it’s six-thousand square feet of paranoid, aspirational fantasy. The first thing anyone notices is the carpet – too-green, meant to resemble grass, sprawling out lawn-like, bookmarked by fake trees, each a front for a steel beam. Nothing can grow here. It imitates life, unable to sustain it. The leaves of the ficuses seem particularly plastic.

Bistro sets scatter the ‘yard’ (if one can call it that), and there’s plenty of outdoor activities – a parquet dance floor complete with pole and disco ball, a putt putt course, an outdoor grill made to look like it’s nestled in a rock, but in reality better resembles a baked potato. The pool and hot tub, both sculpted in concrete and fiberglass mimicking a natural rock formation, are less Playboy grotto and more Fred Flintstone. It’s a very seventies idea of fun.

Then, of course, there’s the house. That fucking house. 

A house built underground in 1978 was always meant to be a mansard – the mansard roof was a historical inevitability. The only other option was International Style modernism, but the millionaire and his wife were red-blooded anti-Communists. Hence, the mansard. Robert thinks the house looks like a fast-food restaurant. Jay thinks it looks like a lawn and tennis club he once attended as a child where he took badminton lessons from a swarthy Czech man named Jan. It’s drab and squat, made more open by big floor-to-ceiling windows nestled under fresh-looking cedar shingles. There’s no weather down here to shrivel them up.

“Shall we?” Jay drawls. The two make their way into the kitchen and set the platters down on the white tile countertop. Robert leans up against the island, careful of the oversized hood looming over the electric stovetop. He eyes the white cabinets, accented with Barbie pink trim. The matching linoleum floor squeaks under his Italian loafers. 

“I don’t understand why we bother doing this,” Robert complains. “Nobody’s seriously going to buy this shit, and the company’s out a hundred bucks for party platters.”

“It’s the same every time,” Renault agrees. “The only people who show up are Instagram kids and the crazies - you know, the same kind of freaks who’d pay money to see Chernobyl.” 

“Dark tourism, they call it.”

Jay checks his watch again. Being in here makes him nervous.

“Still an hour until open house,” he mutters. “I wish we could get drunk.”

Robert exhales deeply. He also wishes he could get drunk, but still, a job’s a job.

“I guess we should check to see if everything’s good to go.”

The men head into the living room. The beamed, slanted ceiling gives it a mid-century vibe, but the staging muddles the aura. Jay remembers making the call to the staging company. “Give us your spares,” he told them, “Whatever it is you’re not gonna miss. Nobody’ll ever buy this house anyway.” 

The result is eclectic – a mix of office furniture, neo-Tuscan McMansion garb, and stuffy waiting-room lamps, all scattered atop popcorn-butter shag carpeting. Hideous, Robert thinks. Then there’s the ‘entertaining’ room, which is a particular pain in the ass to them, because the carpet was so disgusting, they had to replace it with that fake wood floor just to be able to stand being in there for more than five minutes. There’s a heady stone fireplace on one wall, the kind they don’t make anymore, a hearth. Next to it, equally hedonistic, a full bar. Through some doors, a red-painted room with a pool table and paintings of girls in fedoras on the wall. It’s all so cheap, really. Jay pulls out a folded piece of paper out of his jacket pocket along with a pen. He ticks some boxes and moves on.

The dining room’s the worst to Robert. Somehow the ugly floral pattern on the curtains stretches up in bloomer-like into a frilly cornice, carried through to the wallpaper and the ceiling, inescapable, suffocating. It smells like mothballs and old fabric. The whole house smells like that. 

The master bedroom’s the most normal – if anything in this house could be called normal. Mismatched art and staging furniture crowd blank walls. When someone comes into a house, Jay told Robert all those years ago, they should be able to picture themselves living in it. That’s the goal of staging. 

There’s two more bedrooms. The men go through them quickly. The first isn’t so bad – claustrophobic, but acceptable – but the saccharine pink tuille wallpaper of the second gives Renault a sympathetic toothache. The pair return to the kitchen to wait.

Both men are itching to check their phones, but there’s no point – there’s no signal in here, none whatsoever. Renault, cynical to the core, thinks about marketing the house to the anti-5G people. It’s unsettlingly quiet. The two men have no choice but to entertain themselves the old-fashioned way, through small talk.

“It’s really fucked up, when you think about it,” Renault muses.

“What is?”

“The house, Bob.”

Robert hates being called Bob. He’s told Jay that hundreds of times, and yet…

“Yeah,” Robert mutters, annoyed.

“No, really. Like, imagine. You’re rich, you founded a major multinational company marketing hairbrushes to stay-at-home moms, and what do you decide to do with your money? Move to Vegas and build a fucking bunker. Like, imagine thinking the end of the world is just around the corner, forcing your poor wife to live there for ten, fifteen years, and then dying, a paranoid old man.” Renault finds the whole thing rather poetic. 

“The Russkies really got to poor ol’ Henderson, didn’t they?” Robert snickers.

“The wife’s more tragic if you ask me,” Renault drawls. “The second that batshit old coot died, she called a guy to build a front house on top of this one, since she already owned the lot. Poor woman probably hadn’t seen sunlight in God knows how long.”

“Surely they had to get groceries.”

Jay frowns. Robert has no sense of drama, he thinks. Bad trait for a realtor.

“Still,” he murmurs. “It’s sad.”

“I would have gotten a divorce, if I were her,” the younger man says, as though it were obvious. It’s Jay’s turn to laugh.

“I’ve had three of those, and trust me, it’s not as easy as you think.”

“You’re seeing some new girl now, aren’t you?” Robert doesn’t really care, he just knows Jay likes to talk about himself, and talking fills the time.  

“Yeah. Casino girl. Twenty-six.”

“And how old are you again?”

“None of your business.”

“Did you see the renderings I emailed to you?” Robert asks briskly, not wanting to discuss Jay’s sex life any further.

“What renderings?”

“Of this house, what it could look like.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Jay has not seen the renderings.

“If it were rezoned,” Robert continues, feeling very smart, “It could be a tourist attraction - put a nice visitor’s center on the lot, make it sleek and modern. Sell trinkets. It’s a nice parcel, close to the Strip - some clever investor could make it into a Museum of Ice Cream-type thing, you know?”

“Museum of Ice Cream?”

“In New York. It’s, not, like, educational or anything. Really, it’s just a bunch of colorful rooms where kids come to take pictures of themselves.”

“Instagram,” Jay mutters. “You know, I just sold a penthouse the other week to an Instagram influencer. Takes pictures of herself on the beach to sell face cream or some shit. Eight-point-two million dollars.”

“Jesus,” Robert whistles. “Fat commission.”

“You’re telling me. My oldest daughter turns sixteen this year. She’s getting a Mazda for Christmas.”

“You ever see that show, My Super Sweet Sixteen? On MTV? Where rich kids got, like, rappers to perform at their birthday parties? Every time at the end, some guy would pull up in, like, an Escalade with a big pink bow on it and all the kids would scream.”

“Sounds stupid,” Jay says.

“It was stupid.”

It’s Robert’s turn to check his watch, a dainty gold Rolex.

“Fuck, still thirty minutes.”

“Time really does stand still in here, doesn’t it?” Jay remarks.

“We should have left the office a little later,” Robert complains. “The charcuterie is going to get –“

A deafening sound roars through the house and a violent, explosive tremor throws both men on the ground, shakes the walls and everything between them. The power’s out for a few seconds before there’s a flicker, and light fills the room again. Two backup generators, reads Jay’s description in the listing - an appeal to the prepper demographic, which trends higher in income than non-preppers. For a moment, the only things either are conscious of are the harsh flourescent lighting and the ringing in their ears. Time slows, everything seems muted and too bright. Robert rubs the side of his face, pulls back his hand and sees blood.

“Christ,” he chokes out. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” Jay breathes, looking at his hands, trying to determine if he’s got a concussion. The results are inconclusive – everything’s slow and fuzzy, but after a moment, he thinks it might just be shock.

“It sounded like a fucking 747 just nosedived on top of us.” 

“Yeah, Jesus.” Jay’s still staring at his fingers in a daze. “You okay?”

“I think so,” Robert grumbles. Jay gives him a cursory examination.

“Nothing that needs stitches,” he reports bluntly. Robert’s relieved. His face sells a lot of houses to a lot of lonely women and a few lonely men. There’s a muffled whine, which the two men soon recognize as a throng of sirens. Both of them try to calm the panic rising in their chests, to no avail.

“Whatever the fuck happened,” Jay says, trying to make light of the situation, “At least we’re in here. The bunker.”

Fear forms in the whites of Robert’s eyes.

“What if we’re stuck in here,” he whispers, afraid to speak such a thing into the world. The fear spreads to his companion.

“Try the elevator,” Jay urges, and Robert gets up, wobbles a little as his head sorts itself out, and leaves. A moment later, Jay hears him swear a blue streak, and from the kitchen window, sees him standing before the closed metal doors, staring at his feet. His pulse racing, Renault jogs out to see for himself.

“It’s dead,” Robert murmurs. 

“Whatever happened,” Jay says cautiously, rubbing the back of his still-sore neck, “It must have been pretty bad. Like, I don’t think we should go up yet. Besides, surely the office knows we’re still down here.”

“Right, right,” the younger man breathes, trying to reassure himself.

“Let’s just wait it out. I’m sure everything’s fine.” The way Jay says it does not make Robert feel any better. 

“Okay,” the younger man grumbles. “I’m getting a fucking drink, though.”

“Yeah, Jesus. That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.” Renault shoves his hands in his suit pocket to keep them from trembling.  

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[littleoddwriter]

Slashers x GN!Reader, who has Dermatitis/Eczema | Headcanons

Sorry for not fulfilling any requests today. I’ve had a particularly bad day and this already took me way too long to write, but I desperately needed the comfort this brings me. So this may be niche as hell.

notes; GenderNeutral!Reader; Eczema; (Atopic, and any other kind of) Dermatitis; Chronic Illness; Skin Disease; Wounds; Scratching; Itching; Bleeding; Frustration; Hurt/Comfort; Showering; Taking Care of Someone; Talk of Changing Diets (not explicit at all); Implied/Referenced Murder; Implied N/SFW with Bo and Chucky.

Characters: Asa Emory/The Collector; Bo Sinclair; Lester Sinclair; Vincent Sinclair; Charles Lee Ray/Chucky (Human); Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull.

Asa Emory/The Collector

At first he doesn’t understand why you get so angry when he tells you to “just stop scratching”, after you’ve scratched yourself open in several places – your skin flaky, raw, bleeding and/or oozing

But when you explain to him what’s going on he does his research, since he is not overly educated on such conditions and doesn’t necessarily want to upset you more/again

He seeks out the best dermatologist he can find and makes an appointment for you – then he also buys whatever you’ve been prescribed/told could help

Asa helps you apply the cremes every time he can, especially on spots you can’t reach easily, or would hurt too much to reach

He makes sure to be gentle, only touching you lightly when he rubs it in softly – he doesn’t want to hurt you (at least not like this)

Whenever you may get frustrated, sad and/or angry, because of how bad a flare-up currently is, he does his best to comfort you, even though he doesn’t really know how to do it well

He lets you cuddle into him and mutter complaints about how much you hate this disease you’ve been plagued with and he holds you close, shushing you occasionally – he doesn’t really know what else to do

If it gets so bad that you can barely move, or do basic tasks, he helps you out – he also locks you away in a room at the hotel when he’s there, so you don’t get hurt and he can reach you more easily if you should need him

If he’s home and you wake up in the middle of the night/can’t sleep, because your skin is itching so badly and you just can’t stop scratching, he’ll hold you close and shush you quietly (he’s since learned that it’s the best way to comfort you), and then he’ll help you clean up and nurse your wounds when it’s passed

Often times, you may need help showering or have to be comforted during and after, so he just steps into the shower with you, gently washing your body and towelling you off afterwards, shushing and kissing you throughout to help you feel better

Bo Sinclair

The first time you have a flare-up around him and scratch yourself open, he catches you and grips your wrist tightly, forcing you to a stop – he tells you to stop it and it turns into an argument, since it doesn’t work like that

When you explain to him what is going on, he makes a bit more of an effort later on and helps you when the itchiness has passed for a moment, making sure your wounds are treated properly

He tells Lester to drive you to the next town to get some cremes or whatever helps you, maybe have a doctor take a look if it’s really bad – because even though he is bad at showing it, he does care about you and wants you to be in less pain

Still, comfort and empathy aren’t his forte at all, so when you’re emotionally at your wits’ end, you’re mostly on your own – he holds you close and kisses you, though, especially at night and it’s usually enough for you

Whenever you may need help with showering, he’ll use the opportunity for less innocent shenanigans, but he also makes sure you’re never in pain or uncomfortable during any of it – he certainly helps you out in more than just one way

Lester Sinclair

The second he sees you scratching yourself until you bleed, he’s on you, comforting you, kissing you, hugging you gently

He tells you that it’s okay and that he’s here for you

If you need to change your diet because some foods kept triggering flare-ups, he accommodates you and never makes you feel alone or ridiculous about anything

He drives you to stores, pharmacies, dermatologists, etc. and never loses hope or patience – he just wants you to be in less pain and have fewer wounds to nurse every day

Whenever you need it, he’ll help you apply the lotions or cremes – he’s always careful not to hurt you, he knows that he often underestimates the strength of his touch, so he checks in with you if it’s alright the way he’d doing it every time

If you spend a night not sleeping, so does he – Lester entertains and/or comforts you, all the while trying to distract you from the itchiness and pain, more often than not he succeeds

He’s already started showering more regularly for you, and he really enjoys being able to do it with you when you ask him to – he loves being able to touch your entire body innocently and take care of you

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent is one of the most understanding ones, since he knows what it’s like to feel ashamed of your skin, to have it hurt and to feel frustrated with what you have

He comforts you to the best of his abilities and holds you close

He educates himself on your condition and makes sure to silently help you out and accommodate you without you having to ask for anything

Sometimes he might get lost in his fascination with your wounds and wanting to nurse them, so that he ends up touching them, which hurts, but it’s alright, you know he doesn’t mean to do it (and in a way, it is charming and makes you feel less ashamed)

He’ll happily spend his night working on his wax figures and letting you watch him when you can’t sleep - he’ll even let you work on them with him to keep your hands away from yourself and distract you

With him, shared showers aren’t often a thing, but he gently towels you off when you’re done, because usually that’s what causes more pain than the shower itself anyway

Charles Lee Ray/Chucky

At first he thinks you’re just being dramatic and stubborn, because “of course you can just stop scratching, what the fuck’s your problem?”

He eventually comes around, though, and also does his best to help you out with it

Once, he even tries to find a voodoo spell that might make your condition better/go away, but so far he’s not found anything

Sometimes your scratching drives him up the walls and he might lash out at you or leave to blow off some steam (murder someone), but he always comforts you later on and holds you close, telling you that he loves you

Most of the time, he’ll try to distract you from it by talking to you, which you honestly love – his voice alone soothes you, and everything he says is either really interesting to you, or makes you laugh at times – it’s perfect for you

It is especially helpful when you have to spend a night awake - he’s gladly distracting you any way he can, sometimes he’ll even take you out with him to watch him off someone

He even makes sure you’re provided with the best lotions and cremes he can get his hands on and applies them for you, because he thinks it’s better that way and you can’t necessarily reach some spots anyway, so he might as well – you really appreciate his efforts

Chucky definitely enjoys showering with you when it’s bad – sure, he doesn’t like to see you wince and breathe through the pain it causes, but at least he gets to share the shower with you, touching you as he washes you – he tries his best to be gentle, too, but also makes it fun for both of you

Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull

Takes care of you like a champ from the get-go

He is very understanding of you and never grossed out

He never forces you to a stop when you’re scratching, but instead comforts you when it’s bad and takes care of your wounds afterwards

Gets the best dermatologist to take a look and help you – buys the best lotions and cremes, whatever you may need

Adjusts both your diets accordingly, so you feel less alone when you have to cut out certain foods

Cuddles you and kisses your entire body (he carefully kisses around your damaged skin), which always makes you feel better about it all and effectively distracts you from the itchiness

When it’s so bad that you can’t do basic tasks, or need more help, he makes sure that he’s there to support you, or even hire someone for it, in case his work occupies him longer than anticipated, but he’d never put it above you

Spending nights awake is not a problem for him at all, he holds you close while you two watch his tapes, which distracts you well enough 90% of the time

He showers with you, washing you gently and making sure you’re not hurting too much from it – he dries your skin with the softest towels and dabs them carefully on your body to not open up any wounds or irritate your skin more

If you itch a lot after your shower, he takes care of you whichever way you need him to – he listens to you and never acts as though he would know better

After his face was disfigured, he has a lot more empathy for what you’ve been going through all this time – it isn’t the same of course, but he understands your pain and when you feel ashamed of your damaged skin if a flare-up is really bad

In the end you two help out each other greatly; there’s always a lot of comfort and a deep understanding between you two

[allthingskakashi]

• Bells and Balls •

[ Kakashi x Reader ]

Tags : NSFW, Smut

Words : 4.8k

A/n: I wrote over 4k words just to get some dick.

Okay sbsbajash idk I'd been working on this for like a whole week and i couldn't concentrate on anything unless i finished this lmao so here it is whatever, I can't drag this around anymore. Uhhh hope you like it I'm still not very good at writing smut im sorry. This takes place in the post Anbu and pre team 7 era and Kakashi’s a bit of an asshole but you know you still love him. This is also a little similar to my other fic ‘Yearning’ but here you get the s e x and i’m sorry if the characterization is bad, i put more focus on making it hot i guess ok ill shut up now i hope you like it

You give the sheet of paper in your hand one final glance, and look around the room. There’s a long line behind you and you’re surrounded by your fellow jounins, each here to submit their respective lists.

You were extremely happy with the performance of your team and didn’t have to think twice before passing them. You had no doubt that they would make wonderful shinobi. You looked forward to teaching and guiding them, and judging by the chatter around you, most other jounins had passed their teams too.

The trouble, however, remains with Kakashi Hatake.

A few weeks ago, you had all been named squad leaders and put in charge of a squad, and today was your very first day with your assigned teams. As instructed, each of you conducted a test for the genin and depending upon whether they passed or failed, the final list would be announced.

No one till date had ever passed Kakashi Hatake's infamous test, and everyone was sure that no one would this year either. Most genin trembled in fear of him, being aware of his strict methods.

And as it happens, at this moment, this infamous man is right in front you, standing with his back hunched forward as he hands his paper in to the woman behind the desk.

You wait for your turn, your eyes fixating on the red symbol on his vest as you wonder, ruefully, about the fate of the students he must have failed this time.

You take a step forward as he turns around, having submitted his paper, and the line moves up behind you.

Kakashi peeks briefly at your paper as he passes, letting out an audible scoff at the list in your hand before walking on ahead, hands tucked in his pockets.

You’re momentarily confused by this sudden act, but something is already starting to boil up inside you. You aren’t exactly known for being placid, nor for sitting by and allowing people to give you crap. Your eyebrows furrow as you hastily thrust your sheet onto the desk, before making your way to follow after him.

“Do you have a problem?” you call to his back as a few heads turn towards you.

He stops, taking his time turning back to look at you, half lidded eyes looking as indifferent as always.

His demeanour pushes you further to the edge and you take a few steps closer, craning your neck to meet his eyes, waiting for an answer.

“Well?”

He peers down at you unfazed, completely oblivious to the audience around you, as if they are not even there.

“You’re too soft”, he shrugs. “You don’t know how the shinobi world works” he says bluntly, piercing you with his unwavering gaze.

You glare back at him, your mouth twitching with the sled of retorts forming at the back of your tongue.

“Who gave you the right to—"

But he’s already turning away from you, your eyes meeting with the red symbol of his vest once again.

“Hey don’t you fucking walk away from me!” you yell, going forward to stop him, but he saunters on ahead without turning back; his scent lingering in the air as you stand there, watching his figure disappear slowly along the hallway, your fury seething inside you.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

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

 “Thank you! This is just what I needed.” you chime, digging into the hot bowl of ramen in front of you, your mouth salivating just at the look of it.

You take a big mouthful, revelling in the immediate burst of flavours on your tongue.

“Mmmm.” You moan, “You’ve outdone yourself, Ayame!”

The young girl smiles at you in delight, proceeding to serve you another helping.

You take another blissful bite, closing your eyes to relish the moment.

The streets are quiet around you except for the faint chirp of crickets, as is expected at this hour of the night. It must be past midnight by now, you’re not exactly sure.

You had been tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. For some reason, the encounter with Kakashi from earlier today had you feeling bitter and edgy. You hated that he was in your head, you didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like you to be this bothered by some mindless comments from someone. You’d had altercations before, worse ones, but they were never enough to steal away your night’s sleep.

And yet, this time…

You had to do something to take the edge off, ideally punch him in the face, but since that was not the plausible choice, you settled for the next best thing. Going for a run and treating yourself to your favourite comfort food later.  

So here you are now, out at night all by yourself. The Ichiraku shop was still open, bless the lords.

You slurp some of the soup from the bowl and let out a loud smack of your lips.

You can feel your spirits lifting, and you’re glad for it. He wasn’t in your head after all, you were just having a bad day, that’s all.

You shift your focus back to the bowl in front of you, moaning and slurping as you go.

“Whoa there, Get a room.”

The sudden interruption of the familiar voice makes you stop cold.

Are you fucking kidding me?

You look up from your bowl, turning your head around to see none other than Kakashi Hatake, standing smug in all his glory.

The strange pang of bitterness is back in the depths of your stomach and you resist the urge to punch that smug look off his face.

“Ah, if it isn’t Kakashi Hatake, the all-knowing wisenheimer.” you say, your tone snide. “Say, don’t you have somewhere else to be? Some genin to fail?”

He comes around to take a seat on the stool beside you, a smirk evident through his mask, almost as if he’s enjoying this.

“I’ve already failed them” he smiles sweetly at you. “Worked up quite an appetite too.” He says, looking away from you to place his order.

You notice as Ayame notes his order down, the distinct shade of pink that tinges her cheeks as does, before turning away and disappearing into the supplies room at the back of the shop.

Ugh. What is with this guy? Why is it so….

You don’t realise you’re staring at him until he looks back at you, raising a questioning eyebrow. You supress your startlement at being caught, pretending as if you’d meant to be glaring at him.

“What the hell are you even doing out here so late?” you spurt, trying to sound irritated but it comes out sounding almost…concerned?

Thankfully, he doesn’t notice. “I could ask you the same.”

You look away, unwilling to answer. You were out here to get him out of your head, and now here you are, sitting beside him in a ramen shop while the entire village sleeps.

It almost feels like you’re the only two people in the world. The feeling makes something churn inside your stomach.

You dab your mouth with your napkin, before swivelling on the stool to face him. You look at him intently, studying his features. He stares back at you, as if waiting for you to say something.

“Why?” you ask, catching him off guard with it.

“Why what?”

“Why does no one pass your test? What’s so difficult about it?” you ask, gaze fixated on him. You expect him to look uncomfortable but he just shrugs.

“Why do you want to know?”

“I’m curious” you reply truthfully, watching him smirk at your answer.  

You hate it when he smirks, how his face looks when he’s being cocky.

Ugh.

He swivels in his chair now, turning his body towards you. “Is that so?”, he says through the smirk, resting his elbow on the counter and leaning in.

You don’t know why, but something about his tone and the way he leans in makes it difficult for you to breathe all of a sudden.

But you’re not one to be fazed.

“Yes” you reply, refusing to let yourself crumple under his gaze. Your voice comes out sounding hoarse, and you clear your throat.

He smirks wider at your reply and stretches the next words out.

“If you’re so curious…Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

Your heart thuds like clapper clanging against a bell. You resist the urge to gulp.

Was it this hot when I left the house?

You clear your throat again. “I don’t have the time to take part in your stupid games”

The smirk is adamant on his lips, his gaze unnerving.

He breathes, “Do you not have the time…or do you not have the balls?”

His tone is challenging. Or inviting. Or both, you’re not really sure, you’re not thinking straight anymore.

Your jacket is too hot against your skin, you writhe beneath the thick material.

Sliding off the stool, you walk slowly towards him, erasing the space in between you bit by bit with each step, until your bodies are a few inches away from touching. Your eyes bore into each other’s as if in silent battle. It’s your turn to smirk now.

“Training Grounds in 20 mins” you whisper. Despite the hitch in your breath, your voice is clear. “Don’t be late.”

You walk past him without breaking your gaze, brushing your shoulder against his arm as you walk by, perhaps a little harder than necessary, leaving Kakashi to stare after you.

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

You sit on the damp grass with your back against a tree, waiting. Your jacket lies in a puddle beside you.

You count the weapons in your bag, you hadn’t exactly come out prepared for a fight tonight. Two kunai knives, that’s all.

Would that be enough to take down the copy ninja? You hope so. There’s no way you’re letting him win. It’s time someone taught him a lesson and you would love to be that someone. The nerve of him…to actually challenge you.

He really needs to get a life. But then, here you are too…

Why am I here? What am I even doing?

You close your eyes and tilt your head back against the hard bark, your eyebrows furrowing the way they always do when you’re deep in thought.

Back at the shop… the way he spoke…the look in his eyes— God, Stop. Stop it.

Who the fuck cares about the look in his eyes?

Not me.

It’s okay. I’m good.

We’re here to teach this asshole a lesson. An asshole, that’s what he is. Insufferable and stupid and smug and ridiculously ho— horrible. Ridiculously horrible.

You take a deep breath, opening your eyes and standing up so fast that it makes your head dizzy for a brief second. You start walking around, jerking your arms and legs, stretching your neck, even slapping yourself a few times on the face to make yourself focus.

Yes, I need to focus. The lack of sleep is getting to me.

You crouch down to tighten your shoelaces, before getting up and starting some stretching exercises. Gotta loosen the muscles, make sure you have full flexibility. After all, taking on Kakashi Hatake all by yourself is probably not going to be a piece of cake.

You look down to check your attire: running shorts and a tank top, not fully ideal but it’ll do.

You’re bent over, in the midst of doing rotating toe touches when your eyes fall upon a silhouette far ahead, nearing closer and closer. You pause, standing up straight with your hands on your hips as the figure walks slowly towards you, a faint jingling noise ringing through the air, as Kakashi finally comes near enough for you to make out his face in the dim light.

“Late as always” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kakashi stands a few feet away from you, holding something in one hand, other hand inside his pocket. He’s not wearing his jacket anymore either, you observe.

“Sorry, had to go get this” he says, holding up what looks like two small bells with strings attached.

You squint at it, coming closer to get a better look. “What the hell is that?”

“Bells”, he smiles. “That’s the test. You have to get these bells from me. You can use any attack you want but… since you’re not a genin, I’ll raise the stakes a little higher for you. You cannot use ninjutsu or genjustu. It has to be purely physical attacks. You have till dawn.”

This little fucker. He knows taijutsu is not my strong point.

But fine. If that’s how he wants to play this, so be it. I’m taking him down one way or another.

“Dawn?” you chuckle, fixing him with your gaze. “I don’t need till dawn” you sneer, coming forward with a kick aimed to his head. He blocks it just as you’re about to make contact, grasping your ankle in his strong hold.

“I didn’t say start yet” he says through a smirk, letting go of your foot.

You take a few steps backwards, glowering at him as he ties the bells to a loop on his trousers. They hang over his thighs with a jingle, silver metal glimmering in the moonlight.

He looks back up at you, eyes twinkling with an unusual sparkle.

There’s that look again…

“Go” he commands, his body tensing up into a defensive stance immediately, ready for you.

You fix your gaze on the shiny metal of your goal and hurl yourself forward, your arms meeting each other’s in blows and defences. You throw a few kicks to his stomach, making him tumble but not enough to knock him out.

You shift your stance, before directing another punch to his face; he deflects it, sniggering.

Okay okay okay, I’m not focusing. I need to focus.

You take a deep breath.

Kakashi stands waiting, his features emanating pure amusement.

You feel a restlessness brewing within you, a strange energy buzzing through your veins. You’d been itching to punch him in the face and now’s your chance.

You watch him, mentally calculating all your options. His silver hair shines like moonbeams in the dark.

FOCUS.

Drawing a kunai from your bag, you lunge forward, distracting him with a kick to the head as your kunai slashes through the air, just about to cut across the strings when— your hand is caught in his grasp, a ‘slap!’ cutting through the air as his palm clasps around your wrist.

He bores into you, your wrist held firmly in his hand as he turns you around swiftly, gripping both your wrists at the back.

You feel the muscles of his chest against your body as he comes closer, the metal bells hanging over his leg brushing against your fingertips behind you.

You wriggle your hands, trying to break free but it’s in vain. His grip is firm, slender fingers digging into your skin as he leans into your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Not so fast” he whispers, his lips almost brushing the top of your ears.

The words send a shudder through your spine. You feel the black sky closing in on you, there’s a hum springing through your veins.

He loosens his grip as your hands fall, the kunai held limply in your hand. You turn around, your heart skipping a beat at how close he is to you. You feel your resolve weakening.

No.

No.

Stop.

Your hand flies to the collar of his shirt, the other hand holding the kunai to his throat as you push him backwards with your body, your eyes blazing into his.  

Keeping the kunai at his throat, you lower your other hand slowly, brushing it down his chest, his muscles taut under your hand. You trail your hand down along the line of his sternum, down the firmness of his stomach and further down, your fingers lightly caressing the bulge of his trousers before they almost make contact with the bells alongside, right there, just a flick away—

so close—

Before your wrist is caught in a sudden, fast clutch again.

His grip is much stronger this time, unyielding, hungry. Your bones ache beneath his hold.  

You watch something ignite in his eyes as his shoulders rise and fall in rhythm to your heaves. You suddenly realise how out of breath you are.

In the flash of a moment, Kakashi grips your kunai holding hand, holding it away from his throat as he pushes you, the weight of his body pressing onto yours as your feet scrape along the ground, stumbling backwards till your back slams against a tree, the force making your body jolt. The kunai slips from your hand.

His arms pin you defenceless against the tree, his gaze holding you hostage, burning through your skin.

The touch of his skin against yours feels alien. When was the last time you felt the warmth of someone’s skin? You cannot recall.

He’s so close to you, you cannot see anything beyond him.

In the dark, under the moonlight, the edges of his face look softened.

A wind passes by, the sound of rustling leaves filling through the silence. A volcano erupts within you.

Now.

You gulp. Up this close, you can make out the outline of his mouth.

Now.

Your lips press into Kakashi’s in a desperate lurch, your neck straining to meet him as far as his grip on you allows. Your heart explodes like firecrackers inside your chest as your tongue pushes against the cloth of his mask, demanding to be let in.

You feel his grip loosen around your wrists as the mask is off and he reciprocates, his lips on yours, his hand gripping your chin up as his tongue moves in fervent swirls inside your mouth.

A thousand questions swarm inside your head, buzzing but you’re not being controlled by your head anymore. You can feel the thud of his chest against your own.

He trails his hand down to your throat, holding you in place, other hand exploring every edge and curve of your body before it snakes down the waistband of your shorts, down the elastic of your underwear.

You gasp, arching your back as you feel the touch of his long fingers down there, moaning helplessly into his mouth as he rubs along your wet entrance in rapid strokes.

Your head is a dizzy mess of jumbled emotions as yearning overpowers your senses, your previous resolve weakening into a mushy puddle with every stroke and thrum of his fingers inside you.

He pulls away from your mouth to leave sloppy kisses down your neck, his tongue painting patterns along your skin as you catch a glimpse of his face and you see it— his face, glowing under the moonlight. And you realise.

He’s…beautiful.

An overwhelming ache breaks through your senses, creating a frenzied whirlwind of passion and agony in your mind. Your detestation for him crumbles into pieces underneath the weight of your desire, as you realise…

You don’t hate him.

You never did.

Not even close.

Not even a little bit.

Not even at all.

You pull his face up to meet your lips again, planting urgent kisses on his mouth as your hands tease the hem of his shirt. His fingers slip out of you and you can feel the wetness of your panties, soaked through with arousal.

“Kakashi…” you whisper in pleasure as he looms over you, your foreheads touching, out of breath and heaving with exhilaration. His eyes burn with the same passion that you feel inside.

“We can’t…shouldn’t…here…people...” you mutter in struggled breaths, as he plants another kiss to your lips, the sparks from it fogging your mind

“Since when do you care about people?” he whispers against your ear, his raspy voice enough to strip you off of all your remaining sense and judgement.

You pull his shirt over his head in one swift motion, throwing it to the ground beside as he follows, taking off your shirt and then unhooking your bra, tossing both away as his hands reach for you in hungry clutches.

His hands caress your breasts, pressing them and pulling on your hardened nipples, his mouth following soon after. His lips lock around them, sucking hard as you bury your face into his broad shoulders, biting lightly to keep yourself from screaming.

You sink your fingers into his hair, tugging softly as his mouth moves in a wet trail further down your body, strands of his hair tickling your stomach as he goes, his hands tugging your panties, sliding them down the curves of your hips.

Your heart thuds in your ears as Kakashi sits crouching in front of you, parting your legs. He looks up at you, as if asking for your permission, and you give it to him by pulling the back of his head closer between your legs.

He puts your right leg over his shoulder, spreading you for him, his other hand clutching the back of your left thigh as his mouth teases you down there.

The tip of his tongue flicks at your entrance, before it finds your weakest spot, and you feel your body shuddering, barely able to keep your balance.

You tug at his hair harder as his tongue moves skilfully inside you, fingers rubbing your swollen clit simultaneously. You feel every nerve ending in your body come alive as you moan out his name “K-Kakashi…” through trembling lips.

Your insides shudder and a deep moan forms at the back of your throat, threatening to escape as Kakashi puts his hand over your mouth, before pulling you down on top of him with a sudden tug.  

You come down with a thud on his thighs, your body jolting with the force as you watch him in front of you, the copy ninja… bare bodied and heaving in front of your eyes.

Who would have thought…

You straddle him, admiring his unclad torso, before pushing his shoulders down with your hands, making him lie back on the grass as you stoop over him. His eyes are fixated on you, pure pleasure making itself known on his face.

He really is beautiful.

You bend forward, your mouth exploring the smoothness of the skin on his chest, as a strange cold feeling down there distracts you.

You look down, squinting in the dark to find yourself sitting on two glimmering metal balls placed over his thigh.

The bells.

A thrill runs through your nerves as you smirk, glancing up at him.

He’s noticed it too.

His eyes return the same sparkle of mischief as yours as he lies still, waiting.

You press your hands down on his chest, locking your gaze with his as you position yourself over the bells, tilting your head back as you move back and forth over them.

The cold metal of the bells rubs against you, sending tremors through your entire body.

Your gaze at Kakashi again, watching him squirm at the sight of you, his hands twitching to feel your skin.

You keep your eyes on him as you slide down slightly on his thigh, tugging his trousers down as you go. Your hands find the base of his cock as you allow yourself to admire his throbbing length.

He leans his head back on the grass and you feel him getting harder in your hands.

Forming your hand into a fist around him, you move it up and down along his shaft in slow steady strokes, leaning down to bring your mouth closer to his tip, before swirling your tongue in circles around his skin.

His hips tremble as he clutches onto the grass, writhing.

Your lips clasp around his cock, mouth slurping up and down his length, taking your time sliding down to the base and back up, your hands following suit.

You tease him, switching between the tip of your tongue and your whole mouth, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

He quivers and you sit back up, bending forward over his face and pressing your lips on his. A groan from his mouth erupts inside yours as he clutches your hips.

His hands guide your hips back and forth over his length, your lips trembling as he slips into you, his cock finally inside you, pushing into you, filling you as deep as you can be filled.

A new rush of pleasure burns through your senses, your insides stretching as you move your hips around him, back and forth and then in circles.

“A-a-ah...mm…yeah…”, your muffled moans cut through the depths of the forest in the silence of the night.

Kakashi breathes your name, the eruption of your name from his lips enough to send you to a frenzy, filling your heart with drunken fervour.

You moan his name back in reply, hopping up and down on him as his arm snakes behind your waist and he flips you over in a sudden, swift movement, the weight of his body falling over you now.

You arch your back, pushing your hips up to meet his, unwilling to break away even for a second.

You want him so, so bad.

The pointy peaks of grass underneath poke your skin, your nails digging into his back as he nibbles on your neck, thrusting deep, deep into you.

You feel the familiar shudder from earlier again, your mind getting clouded with waves of pleasure coursing through you. Kakashi’s grunts quaver in your ear as you feel his hips jerk in tune to yours.

There’s a tantalizing jolt of ecstasy through your body as you scream out, your quivering voice matching his grunts as you both put a hand over the other’s mouth, your muffled moans melting into each other’s skin. He quivers inside you for a final time before you feel him slipping out of you, as hot wet cum trickles along the insides of your thighs, dripping into the dewy grass beneath.

Droplets of sweat from his hair drips down on you, tasting salty in your mouth. You heave together in exhaustion as he plops down on you, before rolling to the side.

You lie on your back panting, your entire body damp with sweat.

Languor threatens to take over you as you struggle to keep your eyes open, looking up into the night sky.

You see a firefly glowing above your head. You lift a lazy hand to reach it, but it flies away far above, becoming one with the twinkling stars in the sky.

Soft sounds of Kakashi’s breath echo beside you, his foot still touching yours lightly as the both of you lie heaving under the stars.

He turns his head to look at you and you can feel his eyes on you as you try, with all the fibres in your body, to not look back at him.

You know you won’t be able to hold yourself together any longer if you do.

He extends a hand towards you. “That was…”

“Sshhh… Shut up” you say in a slumberous whisper, moving closer into his arm, putting your own around him, your head buried into chest as you feel your eyes getting heavy…not able to stay awake anymore. You feel Kakashi envelope you in his arms, the warmth from his skin against the cold air lulling you to sleep, your mind becoming foggy as you close your eyes, slowly drifting off somewhere far, far away…

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

Your eyes open to the chirping of birds perched on the branches above, rays of morning light casting a rosy glow in the horizon.

You watch the half light in the distance, rubbing your eyes, smiling to yourself.

The night had taken with it the black clouds of denial fogging your mind, your heart is as clear as day now.

You turn your head just in time to see Kakashi opening his eyes, his eyes puffy, imprints of grass marking his soft cheek.

You smile at him as he looks at you, lips curled into a sleepy smile. “Good morning” he yawns, tapping over his mouth with his palm.

“I won.”

“Hmm?” he asks groggily, eyes still adjusting to the light.

You hold up the two small bells in front of him, they jingle over his face.

He chuckles. “I don’t think so. It’s past dawn”

“I took them off before. I won.”

He laughs again, his face lighting up in a way you’d never seen before. He looks even more beautiful in the daylight.

“In all fairness y/n, there are no losers here.”

You laugh along with him now, reaching across and smoothening the imprints on his cheek, keeping your hand there, cupping his cheek.

“So, I passed?” you ask, looking at him, inching closer.

He looks back at you, with the same look from earlier in his eyes.

But you’re not turning yourself blind to it anymore.

“Top of the class” he laughs, pulling you closer, nuzzling your nose with his before pressing his lips into yours.

Notes :-

Did I quote 10 Things I Hate About You on a Kakashi Smut?

Yes, yes i did.

[random-imagines-blog]

Love Peas {Hiram Lodge x Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 1894 Summary: Hiram comes home after a very rough night. Notes: Mentions of death

Shifting under the covers, you heard a noise coming from downstairs. The house was usually quiet save for the murmur of the appliances and electronics, a sound that you had gotten used to over the months of living here with your boyfriend, Hiram. So each and every footstep on the ground sounded like a racket. You laid still, expecting the security system to trigger, saying that there was an intruder, but it did no such thing. The power was still on, you could hear the hum still, that little electrical buzz that was your constant background noise. So that meant whoever was in your house had the keycode. Hiram.

There was even more clamor from downstairs. A groaning sound. Now you knew for sure it was Hiram. You’ve heard him, unfortunately, be in pain on more than one occasion through your relationship. It was the price that he paid for being in the ‘business’ that he was.

You swept the blankets off of you, your bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. You pulled your robe closed over your pajamas as you made your way quickly to the door, through the hallway, and then started down the stairs to see what the damage was this time. You were always terrified that he was going to come home covered in blood, battered beyond repair. That you were going to hold him and hear nothing but the death rattle right before he would be gone. It was a scene that ran through your nightmares. A scene that if it were in front of you, you were ill-prepared to deal with.

There was nothing lazy, or just-woken up about your movements. Foot descending after foot on the runner of the stairs, keeping the chilliness of the hard floors at bay. Through the moonlight coming in through the windows, you were able to see a form just slipping out of the foyer, making it’s way to the kitchens. “Hiram?" You asked, reaching the bottom of the staircase and turning to follow. He was hurt, though there was no blood on the floor. There wasn’t a trail leading after him. But by the way that his leg was sliding behind him, it looked like it was broken at the very least. You flicked the switch and the kitchen came to life with bright lights, revealing everything. Under those florescent s, there was no room to hide.

Though Hiram was trying pretty hard to hide.

He sat down on the floor, head leaning back against the wooden cabinets. He was bruised, but that was an understatement. He was severely bruised. Black eye. Split lip. His usually perfect hair was tousled in a not-unattractive way but the very fact that he hadn’t immediately took a come to it scared you a little. If that was the state of his face, you were very concerned about the rest of him. You got down on your knees next to him, ignoring the discomfort, nervous to even touch him. He looked like he would break if he did.

“I can explain...” Hiram started off by saying, but then realized that he wasn’t going to be able to talk his way out of this one. He’d look up into your face, and then would immediately try to cut off the eye contact, looking down at the ground instead.

“I think this is going a bit beyond the first aid box’s capabilities,” You winced upon seeing the other side of his face. Oh lord, even that eye was starting to swell up. He was close to being a human bruise at this point. That poor, gorgeous face of his. “Maybe we should get you to a hospital. Is anything broken? How did you get home?”

“Cab,” Hiram admitted, ignoring your first question. “The driver was - taking care of things while I left.”

“Christ, Hiram,” You groaned. You got up to your feet, dashing towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit that was in there. The amount of times that you had to replace this thing. The pharmacy probably thought that you were in an abusive relationship. You came back to see that he hardly moved, other than to wipe a bit of blood that was coming from the deep cut in his bottom lip. You sat back down beside him, opened up the first aid kit, tore into a package that contained an alcohol wipe and started to blot.

“Do we got any ice packs?” Hiram moaned. You stood up to go and check, looking through the contents of the freezer. You rummaged past the frozen vegetables, frozen pizzas, bottles of alcohol to find that - no, there were no ice packs in the freezer.

“Have to do with some vegetables,” You said, grabbing a bag of frozen peas. You held it up to his face, pressing it as tenderly as you could against the rougher looking eye. He hissed, and brought his hand up to grab it, only to show you how damaged that looked too. Bloody knuckles were the least of his worries. “We’re going to have to get that looked at,” You said, pointing towards his hand.

“It’s fine,” He muttered, letting it rest on the bag, which was resting on his face. It looked like it hurt. You didn’t know how he wasn’t crying out for a hospital. You would be if you sustained even half of those injuries.

“As much as we love peas in this house, I don’t think they’re going to be granting you any miracles,” You said, and went back to dabbing with the alcohol wipe. “Your lip is going to need stitches. The cuts too big. It won’t heal right.” “So call my Doctor,” Hiram growled, grumpily. By instinct, you slapped the top of his thigh, making him gasp out in pain and drop the frozen bag onto the ground. It broke open, the little green vegetables scattering across the tiled floor.

“I don’t care how hurt you are, you don’t talk to me like that,” You said, shaking your finger in his face. “I’m just worried about you. I don’t know how many more of these you can take before you have some serious internal injuries. Even Houdini died from a punch to the stomach, and you’re not nearly as good at escaping trouble as he is.”

“Mi amor, comparing me to a dead man,” Hiram groaned, pushing peas off of his lap. You got up again, your legs getting a work out from all of the squats that you were doing tonight, and grabbed another bag of frozen peas. It was weird that there were so many, but even rich people buy stuff that’s on sale sometimes. It’s how you stayed rich.

“You keep this up and you will be a dead man,” You quipped, putting the fresh bag on his face, holding it this time instead of letting him do it. “At least let me look at you, please?”

He finally gave a nod, and you slowly lifted his shirt to see all of the markings and bruises that were on his abdomen. His torso looked like a Jackson Pollock painting with the different shades of colors everywhere. You winced, bringing the shirt back down. You really hated seeing him look like this. You’ve been pleading with him to retire since the last time that he had received a beating like this. Or at the very least, hire someone younger to take his place in these fights. He was getting too old for this. “You should see the other guys,” He quipped.

“I don’t doubt it. And what were they - half your age?” You asked, raising an eyebrow, moving the bag from one eye to the other. “Hiram, my love, don’t you think it’s about time that you think about retiring? We can move away from Riverdale. We can get a spot on the beach somewhere, where it never snows. Where it’s never warm. Where the only damage you have to worry about is getting too much sun. Getting burned. But I’ll take care of you and always put sunscreen on you. Aloe vera if you do end up getting burned. Just - think about it, okay? For me?”

“I can’t give up my business like that,” Hiram shook his head, not even considering the possibility. You sighed. You knew that was going to be his answer. You hadn’t been expecting anything else. And yet you were still disappointed. As per usual. “I cannot be seen as weak or everything that I’ve done so far will have been for nothing. All of that work. I can’t pull out yet.”

“Of course you can’t,” You sighed. “At the very least, can you plan on it in the future? I don’t want to be putting this bag on your eyes when you’re well into your seventies.”

“Do you think we’ll still love peas then, mi amor?” He asked, breaking into a smile despite what must be a lot of pain, especially in his lip area.

“I think the better question is will I still love you them,” You teased. pressing a kiss onto one of the few parts of his face that wasn’t mottled with bruises. “But yes, to both. These are lovepeas, don’t you know. Rumor says that if you put them on the black eye of the person that you love, you’ll be together until the ends of the Earth. Or until there are no more peas. But given how the bees are dying out, that might not even be until the ends of the earth.”

“And your creativity is why I love you, and why I always come home,” Hiram said, taking your wrists around his hands. You smiled gently, loving that he cared about the weird side of you. Not just the well made-up person who was always by his side at work events. He always had a way of making you feel like you were someone special. Someone worth adoring.

Now if only you could actually get him out of the criminal business and move somewhere like Mexico where you can lie on the beach together.

“Do you love me enough to let me leave for a moment to call the Doctor? I am worried about this lip of yours. I need it stitched up and better so I can kiss you again.”

“Yes, I suppose I love you that much.” His thumbs would rub at the underside of your wrists for a moment, and then he would gently release you so you could get up and walk back to the bedroom where your cellphone was waiting. Even leaving him that long seemed like an eternity. You called the doctor while you were on your way back down the stairs, hanging up as you entered the kitchen, just in time to see Hiram picking one of the frozen peas off of the ground and popping it into his mouth.

“What are you doing?” You asked, going for the broom and dustpan to finally clean that mess up.

“Oh, I thought these were the feel-better peas. You eat a couple and then you feel all better until the end of time?” He’d ask, showing his very rare funny side. You laughed and shook your head.

“Let me clean these up then I’ll get you to your chair. The doctor is on his way.”

[babylooneytoonz]

mr. shelby's secretary [CEO AU]

[GIF by @maskingfragility]

— pairing: Modern! Tommy Shelby x Reader

— summary : Prompt request 1) “Can you shut up for once in your life?” 2) “Am I your lockscreen?” “You weren’t supposed to see that.” 3)“You’re insane,” “You love me,” “Not right now I don’t.” 4) "I think you might be my soulmate," as requested by @sighonahurricane and @screechingexpertpruneneck [ Hope you like it. I decided to club both the requests into one as the prompts were almost the same ones.🤍]

— warnings: none

[Masterlist]

You had been an exceptional student, all through school, then all through college and then had begun working for one of the most famous firms in London. Due to unforeseen circumstances, when your father passed away due to a terminal illness, you had to quit your job in London and move to Birmingham to take care of your mother.

Birmingham was an altogether different world, atleast as compared to London, but it was a good change for you. Even luckier for you was the fact that just weeks into moving to Birmingham City, you interviewed for a secretary position for CEO of Shelby Brothers LTD, Thomas Shelby and you had gotten the job.

You had been now working for him for over three months now, but the journey had definitely not been easy. You still remembered how your first day at work had been an absolute disaster. You had arrived on time, at 9 am. You still had an hour to go before Tommy entered his office at 10 am, and there were a few stacks of papers that you had to clear.

Before starting your work, you had decided to get yourself a mug of coffee to boost up your day but while you were at the pantry, sitting and sipping your coffee, your phone beeped. When you looked at the message, colour drained from your face.

Thomas Shelby had a meeting at 10, and thus, he had decided he would come in early, and he hadn't found you in your adjoining cabin, and neither were the papers from his room that he wanted gone were actually gone. The colour drained from your face when you saw his text— in three words did he write— get in here, ASAP.

The hearing that you received from Tommy that day, you doubted if you had retained your job after the first day, but strangely, Tommy didn't fire you. That was the only time you actually made him angry though and things slowly changed after that. Thomas Shelby began relying on you more and more as the days passed. He even took your opinions, or let you select the suits he was going to wear on events, without even expressing any doubt on you.

For Tommy, you were like a breath of fresh air in times he needed it the most. You were exceptionally good at your work, but what he liked secretly about you was the fact that you were good at handling him— be it his anger, that you took almost gracefully, without even bothering to spite him back. You listened to him scream and yell at you, but you never lost your own temper. Or be it the recognition of his tiny needs, like when he was in a dire need of coffee.

Tommy would be lying now if he said that he didn't need you; he was now completely dependant on you. Everyday, when he came to work, the first thing he looked at was your smiling face through the glass panels of your adjoining cabin, before he disappeared into his office, and there lay his mug of piping hot black coffee without sugar, and a sandwich, or pancakes, you knowing well aware that the man came to office on an empty stomach. He would call you into his cabin atleast fifty times in a day.

Few months into you working for Mr. Shelby, you were finally growing to despise the man less and less, and learn to get accustomed to his cold outer exterior, and get warmed up to the minutest reflections of the gentleness he hid inside of him.

Tommy was getting impatient, as he leaned against his mahogany desk, his shirt rolled up by the sleeves up to his elbows as he rested the elbows against the surface of the desk. A lit cigarette rested in his left hand, as he stared at the rain clogged glass window in his office. It was raining heavily, and he wondered if it was the weather that had you actually running almost two hours late when you never were late.

He swiped his palm over his face, worry gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He knew you weren't like that. In fact, you were one of the most punctual person he had actually met. He stood up, dabbing the lit end of the cigarette into his ashtray, before he grabbed his coat and walked out of his office. Mary, one of the employees who were friends with you, was outside, talking to one of the interns.

"Mary? Have you heard from [Y/N]? She isn't in yet," Tommy asked, and the woman turned, her eyes almost widening for Tommy seldom spoke to anyone in the office, unless required.

"Mr. Shelby, uh, sir, I don't know. I haven't seen her in today, I was also wondering—" she began, but before she could complete her sentence, impatient Tommy had cut her off.

"Mary, can you go through the company records and give me her address?"

"Definitely, Mr. Shelby," the woman drawled, as she hunched over her system, her fingers tapping against the keypad as she pulled out your address from the company records. She noted the address down on a slip of paper, and looked up at him, "Mr. Shelby, I can ask someone to check on her if you'd like? Maybe due to the weather, her car broke down."

"It's okay, Mary, I'm already headed out, just hand me the address," he impatiently threw out his palm, and the woman placed the parchment in his hands, knowing well as to not say anything else. Tommy turned around and slowly began walking out of the building towards the elevator and pressed the button.

The rains were not going to die down anytime soon, that was something that Tommy noted as he brought the car to a halt outside the address that Mary had handed him. He squinted his eyes, eyeing the plain looking building that stood in front of him, eyeing the first floor that you occupied. He wondered if you had already left for he couldn't see your car anywhere in sight.

Finally, he pulled out his umbrella from the back seat of the car, and stepped out into the lashing rains, dashing through the puddles towards your apartment where an elderly woman was at the door, shielded from the rains underneath the front porch.

"Can I help you?" The woman said in a kind voice, as she moved out of the way, and let Tommy fix himself underneath the porch to find a shelter from the rains.

"I'm looking for,uh, Miss [Y/N]. She works for me," Tommy muttered, under his breath.

"Oh, dear. You're Thomas Shelby? The CEO of Shelby Brothers LTD?" The woman's eyes began glistening with excitement and Tommy nodded, his eyebrows creasing into a hint of a frown. He wasn't here for a fangirl moment.

"Is she here?" Tommy's impatience was a good enough answer for the woman, who nodded and immediately informed him that you had already left for work over an hour ago.

This did nothing to cease the worry pooling inside of him. If you had already left for work, then why weren't you in office? He pulled out his phone, placing his palm on the screen as though shielding it from the woman's unwanted, prying eyes, hoping you had left him a message but you hadn't.

"Thank you," he finally muttered, as he ran out into the rain again, and this time, he didn't even bother using the umbrella, letting himself get drenched from the porch to the car.

Turning the ignition on, he slowly pulled the car on the road, and he started driving in a slow pace, his eyes on the road in front of him.

As if someone had been listening in on his thoughts secretly and had decided to act on it, Tommy brought the car to an abrupt half, applying the brakes. There you were, right in front of his eyes, and Tommy couldn't help but let himself smile warmly, after ages.

From what he could see, it was clear what had taken you so long. You had your heels in your hands, your body was drenched in the rain, your hair sticking to your face. Your knees had mud on it, but that didn't deter you from running about the muddy road, helping the elderlies out of the bus that had broken down.

He saw, as you took the shopping bags from one of the older men, and gave your arm to him that he took and you helped him step out of the abandoned vehicle, and you helped him cross the muddy road, where the tyres of the bus had gotten stuck.

He watched you for a few minutes, leaning back against the car seat, his hand flying to his wet hair. After a few seconds, he decided to quietly head back to the office, without even letting you know that he had seen you.

About an hour later, you rushed into your office. You had managed to head back home and change into a fresh set of clothing, and put your dead phone on charge. Now you were back, and your heart was strumming inside your chest with fear, you knew Tommy would be mad— very mad.

Slowly, you brought your fisted palm to his door and knocked twice.

"Come in," Tommy called out from the inside; he sounded much calmer than what you had expected him to be, and this made you frown. You had expected him to be snarling. Timidly, you made your way up to his desk, your fingers nervously toying with each other as you looked at him. He had his laptop in front of him, and his fingers skimmed over the keypad. He gave you one glance, and looked back at the screen once again. His ignorance made your heart churn.

"Mr. Shelby?" You asked.

"Yes, [Y/N]?" Tommy looked at you, through his round frames.

"Aren't you angry I'm late?" You blurted, mentally cursing yourself, silently.

He looked at you, amused. Your innocence made his heart flutter but he wasnt going to admit it anytime soon. He noticed your body posture, you were standing like a meek little lamb, afraid of him. He stood up from the leather chair he was sitting on and placed his glasses on his desk, before he moved around his desk to where you were. He then fixed himself directly in front of you and gave you a smile, "Why would I be angry? Go take an off today, [Y/N]. You deserve it."

You were confused by his sudden behaviour but you dared not complain, or question him lest he changed his mind. You gave him a haphazard smile as you dashed out of his office, weirded out by the change in his behaviour.

It was Saturday night, and it meant staying up late with a good Netflix series on, and some good bingewatching and munching on snacks for you. Your mother had already gone to bed, for she was an early sleeper. You had managed to sneak into the kitchen, and heat up the leftovers from lunch; the pasta your mum had prepared for you.

You turned your laptop on, letting it rest against your belly as you began browsing through the newest Netflix collection, trying to settle on a movie, when there was a buzz in your phone. You squinted your eyes when your phone started glowing. Your hand reached out as you grabbed it and began reading the SMS from your boss.

Thomas: be at Richard's at 7 in the eve. Got some really imp clients coming over. will be needing you to take the notes.

You frowned, there went your Sunday weekend plans down the drain; not that you had any solid plans, other than Netflix.

Sunday came by faster than you had imagined it to be, and you were standing in front of your wardrobe, weighing the different outfits that you had to fix a suitable one for the dinner at Richard's. Richard's was one of the posher restaurants, and you wanted to look your best, even if it was just business.

Finally, even though your bedroom looked like a typhoon had occurred inside your room, you were able to pick out a dress. It was just the right amount of professional, and casual. It was navy blue, the neck cut deep enough but yet, it wasn't trashy one bit. Once you had changed into it, you admired your form in the mirror, secretly content by the way it hung across your curves, ecen accentuating your curves. You couldn't help but secretly think of Thomas Shelby's reaction when he saw you in this dress.

You were startled when your phone started ringing, pulling you out of your not so in innocent thoughts about your own boss. When you saw his name flash on your lockscreen, you couldn't help but frown. Reluctantly, you tapped on the talk icon, flinging the phone to your ears, "Yes, Mr. Shelby?"

"Grey or black? Red tie or navy blue? I can't fucking decide what to wear. Why is it the fucking weekend [Y/N]. I don't fucking know what to wear," he sounded exasperated and worked up on the other side of the phone and you couldn't help but chuckle silently, silently enjoying this. You knew this would happen.

"The grey with the blue tie, Mr. Shelby, you can make any girl crazy in the grey tux of yours," you smiled, aimlessly drawing your fingers through your hair. You didn't know how you got that courage to openly flirt with him, but you didn't stop yourself from doing it. What suprised you was the fact that Tommy only let you do it. After a minute of silence, he hummed and you could hear him practically pull his tux off the hanger and he murmured, "the grey one it is then."

You kept the phone to your ear, not wanting to disconnect even though he wasn't speaking to you. Oddly enough, even in the silence that lingered on that call, you felt a sense on intimacy, something that you didn't want to let go off, as you grabbed your lipstick and using your free hand, began applying it delicately to your lips.

"What are you wearing?" Tommy's voice reached your ears, and you couldn't help but bite into the insides of your cheeks, feeling giddy in your chest.

"Navy blue dress I wore at the office party, Mr. Shelby. I can change if you want, it's a little too much, don't you think?" You nervously babbled.

"No, keep it on. It compliments my tie."

You smiled upon listening to his words, and just like that, without a parting, Tommy disconnected, sliding his phone into his pocket, his fingers toying with the fabric of his navy blue tie. Even if he was bent of wearing the red one silently, he was now going to switch to the blue one, just because you were wearing blue.

"Miss, do you have a reservation?" The manager asked you, and you smiled courteously.

"Yes, it should be under a Mr. Thomas Shelby?" You replied, and the man immediately nodded and his eyes began scanning through the contents of the register in front of him.

"Ah, you must be Miss [Y/N]. Please follow me, we are delighted to have you," he slowly turned away from you, and you began following him through the open air restaurant, where archaic white gazebos stood tall, adorned with fairy lights, and inside the gazebos were comfortable tables and dine in facilities.

Tommy was finally in sight. He was at the farthest gazebo that stood directly beside the narrow stream, that shone due to the moonlight falling on it.

It wasn't Tommy that captured your attention though, it was the woman dressed in a beautiful red evening dress, her perfectly toned legs covered in sheer black stockings. Her long black hair fell lusciously over her shoulders as she threw back her head and laughed at something Thomas probably said. What made you a tiny bit of jealous was the fact that the two of them looked like they were long time friends; Tommy rarely smiled, and especially never in the open.

You cleared your throat a little too loudly and Tommy turned towards you, and so did the woman in the red dress. You couldn't help but think how beautiful the woman was.

"Tatiana, this is my secretary [Y/N]. She will be going through the final papers and the other formalities," Tommy blinked, his palm ghosting the low of your back as he guided you into an empty chair and you sat down, smiling at Tatiana.

"[Y/N], this is my friend, and soon to be business partner, Tatiana Petrovna," You watched from the corner of your eye as Tommy leaned towards her and he placed his hand on her thigh. You grabbed the fabric of your dress, awkwardly balling the fabric along your fists, although shielded by the table.

The business meeting lasted for an hour, and by the time the three of you were done, half of the restaurant had gotten empty.

"It was a pleasure meeting you once again, Thomas, and even a greater pleasure doing business with you," she gave Tommy her hand and they shook it. You noted how the handshake lingered for a little longer than it was supposed to. Thomas stood up, but you kept seated, as you watched the woman turn away and began strutting down the garden path, towards a massive black SUV parked by the other side.

After a minute of silence, Tommy sighed and he sat down, his earlier jolly expression having dissipated into thin air. He pulled out a cigarette box from the pocket of his tux and brought it up to his lips, flicking you a quick glance.

"You alright?"

"Me? Oh I am more than alright, Mr. Shelby. It's a lovely night, and I'm sitting at one of the loveliest places in Birmingham, with such a lovely company," you deadpanned, giving him a stare down.

"You don't look happy to be here, love," he brought the lit cigarette to his lips, inhaling smoke from it as he eyed you carefully. One of the waiters stepped forward, clearing his throat and you saw that he had a bottle of wine in his hands. Tommy blinked and motioned to the waiter to fill up the glasses and once he had left, his fingers curled against his glass and he lifted it, taking a sip of it.

"Oh, Mr. Shelby, I am delighted to be here, don't you see that? Can we leave?" You arched forward, letting your elbows rest against the table, your glass of wine laying untouched.

Tommy parted his lips, as though he wanted to say something but before words came out, he pressed his lips shut and stood up, grabbing his coat that hung from the back of his chair, "Alright, I'll drop you home yeah? Come on."

Tommy and you quietly walked back to his car and you got into the passenger's seat as Tommy got into the drivers. He slowly pulled the car off the driveway and began driving towards your apartment.

You were still fuming; raging from the inside as you kept glancing at the silhouettes of the buildings passing you by.

"What is the matter with you, ey?" Tommy suddenly turned towards you, lowering the speed of the car and moving it to the side so he could slowly bring the vehicle to a halt.

"Nothing is. Can we please keep moving, Mr. Shelby? I don't have all night," you hissed venomously at him and he just ran his hand through his hair, exasperated. He didn't know what had gotten into you suddenly.

He suddenly reached for your arm and pulled you forcefully towards him, his eyes gazing into yours, "Will you answer me? What the fuck is the matter with you?"

"Oh, nothing's the matter with me, Mr. Shelby. I don't get why you had me over that wretched little romantic dinner as a third wheel when there weren't even enough notes to make," you blurted out the entire sentence in one go, firing the words at him so fast that it took him a minute to digest them.

"Wait, romantic?" He tilted his head slightly, and his index came to rest on his chin for a second before he sat back against the car seat again, "you think me and Tatiana..?"

"Don't spill your romantic or your sexual endeavours in front of me, Mr. Shelby, Im just a lowly secretary," you fumed, and Tommy couldn't help but feel his lips twitch in amusement at how adorably cute you looked when you were angry and jealous.

"Well, now to think of it, eh, we did have some good fucks a few years back," Tommy muttered, in a low voice. Although he knew this would most probably not end very well, but a devil inside of him was already rising, and your jealousy had given birth to a sudden desire in him to have you spill everything you felt for him to him.

You gasped, your jaw dropping as you turned to him, studying his face. Your hand flew to the car lock, and you unlocked it, immediately stepping out of the vehicle, and Tommy cursed under his breath when he realized that he had probably taken it too far. By the time, he stepped out after you, you had already drawn your phone out, and you were trying to book an Uber when he snatched your phone.

"Get into the fucking car, [Y/N]."

"Give me my phone back, Mr. Shelby, I am not in the mood to do this," you threw out your hand, nudging him to hand you your phone.

He was ready to give you back your phone but before he could, his thumb mistakenly pressed on to the power button, and your phone lit up, your cheeks turning a scarlet red when he saw your lockscreen that had his photo on it.

"Wait, am I your lockscreen?” he looked at you smugly, and you couldn't help but feel embarrassed at the sight of it. Great job done [Y/N].

"You weren't supposed to see that," you whispered, tonguing the insides on your cheeks, flustered.

This time he gave you a smile that was gentler than what he had ever given you. He handed you your phone back, and decided not to tease you about the lockscreen.

"Get into the car, [Y/N], please?" He looked into your eyes, his eyes beckoning yours to listen, and you groaned, nodding. He opened the car door for you once again, and quietly you sat down inside, crossing your arms over your chest.

It was as if he knew that you were in no mood to talk, because he didn't force you to. Quietly, he manoeuvred the vehicle through the cuts and turns and you let your head rest against the windowpane. Within seconds, you were drifting into a light sleep.

About ten minutes later, Tommy pled up on your driveway, but even the car coming to a halt wasn't enough to break your slumber. He slowly turned to look at you, and the sight of you was enough to melt his heart. Reluctantly he brought his shaky palm up to the side of your face as he pushed your hair off the side of it, his fingers gentle against you. You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering awake as Tommy smiled to himself, whispering, "I think you might be my soulmate, eh, if there is a concept of one. I'd like to believe you're my fucking soulmate." It was so low, you couldn't hear any of it.

"We're here," he announced, louder and clearer this time and you took this as a hint to get the fuck out of his car.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby, I'll see you at work tomorrow," hurriedly you got out of the car and before Tommy could utter another word, you ran down the side of the apartment towards the side staircase that led to your first floor apartment.

Tommy kept watching as you saw you cash up the flight of stairs, struggling to fish out your bunch of house keys from your purse. He watched as you unlocked the front door and stepped in, hurriedly slamming the door shut.

He kept sitting in the car, and finally turned the ignition on.

"Fuck," he cursed as he turned the ignition off, pulled the car keys out and got out of the car. With big steps, he strode towards the side staircase, from where you had just ran up a few seconds back and reached your doorstep, bringing himself to ring the bell. He waited nervously, tapping the wall awkwardly with his fingers until you opened the door.

He pushed himself inside the minute you opened the door, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Why are you here?" You bit back on your words, trembling slightly. He could see that your eyes were red and puffy, and that you had been crying.

"Were you crying love?" He asked, trying to reach for you. He grabbed your wrists, pulling you towards him.

"You're insane," you whispered, your eyes planted to his lips, but you dared not look up and look into his eyes.

Gently, he let go of your wrist, and instead, placed his palm on the low of your back to hold you steady in his arms, "You love me." He rasped, in a low voice that caused your lips to part.

"Not right now I don't, Mr. Shelby," you spat at him, feeling your eyes start getting cloudy again. To be fair, you were feeling stupid, and embarassed at yourself, for reacting this way, showing him how weak and vulnerable you were, but you couldn't help it. You couldn't stop thinking of Tatiana and Tommy, and the more you did, the more angrier you got. You looked away.

"Look at me, love," Tommy chastised you, placing his hand on the base of your chin as he tried lifting your face up, but you dodged his hand and glared at him,"You're not my boss in here, Mr. Shelby. This is my house."

He gave you a tight lipped smile, and his palm reached out to cup your face, his fingers tracing the outline of your lips. He parted his lips, and fluttered his eyes close, letting an exhale out, before fluttering his blues open again, "this fire within you will be the fucking death of me someday, woman." You curled your lips slightly, licking the insides of your mouth and your nostrils flared, "Shouldn't you be with your business partner? Shagging the fuck out of her? You seem to be at the wrong apartment."

Tommy growled, pushing you to the wall; his knee coming to press against the wall, between the space of your legs. His hands fixed on either side of your head, barring you from escaping.

"Can you shut up for once in your life? I did not fuck Tatiana, ever, yeah?" He looked down into your eyes, and you glared into his, wondering if he was lying.

"You.. didn't?"

"I didn't. And I don't intend to, in the future," he said, in his low husky voice. You fluttered your eyes shut and slowly, like a doe, lifted your face so your lips were now in line with his. You parted your lips, waiting for him to kiss you. He took the hint, a ghost of a smirk forming against his lips as he brought the distance to a close, his plump lips pressing against yours as he kissed you by the wall, "now let's not talk of her now yeah? I would rather spend my night in your bed than stand out here, talking about a woman that doesn't interest me."

"then what interests you?" You smirked.

"You do. You interest me, love."

Your cheeks hurt and your eyes leaked water; tears of happiness flew openly from your eyes. You were dressed in a beautiful black evening gown and your son, Charlie, held your palm, his eyes everywhere but on his father as he walked up to the podium to where the microphone was.

You knelt down gracefully, tickling your son lightly on his Adam's apple, and murmured, "Look, Charlie, your daddy is up there, would you look?"

"Dada!" Charlie babbled, and you hoisted him up and fixed him on your hip as your eyes met Tommy's and he gave you a nod, his eyes twinkling.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you all for coming. You see tonight, eh, is a very special night for me. And I am pleased to announce my endeavours first with you—" He found your eyes again, and you smiled at him, wondering what he was referring to. Ever since you found out you were pregnant with Charlie, two years back, you had decided to quit your job.

"I am pleased to announce [Y/N] and Charles Shelby Center for senior citizens," Tommy turned slightly so he could move out of the way and a huge projector began showing the architectural designs of a massive modern looking building on the screen.

Your heart swelled with pride as you watched your husband gracefully walk down the stairs. People came and greeted him, shaking hands with him, and he stopped momentarily to greet them back. You tickled Charlie's belly as you began striding towards where he was.

Tommy threw out his hand towards you and you gladly accepted, as he pulled you to his side, planting a quick kiss on Charlie's forehead. You lifted your neck up high and you and Tommy posed for a few pictures, and soon the cameras left you alone with him. He leaned closer to you and smiled, "Did you like it, love? I've been planning it since I saw you that day, four years back, helping out in the rain. You were beautiful. "

"You saw that, Tommy? Is that why you didn't even scold me for being late?" You gasped, and he smirked, nodding.

"No wonder I kept thinking that something was wrong with you, Mr. Shelby."

He suddenly turned around and his right arm came to rest on the low of your back as he pulled you to him. On one hip, you adjusted your son, who was now struggling to get into his daddy's arms; you placed your free hand on Tommy's chest and patted it before grabbing his tie, "If there was something bloody wrong with me, why would you still choose me as your husband and then gift me with a lovely boy?"

"Well, because, Mr. Shelby, I love you, and wouldn't trade our family for anything."

[enchantmentandshadows]

Elriel Month | Day 31: You Are Cordially Invited

WORD COUNT: 2270

CONTENT WARNING: NONE

PLAYING ON AZRIEL’S SYMPHONIA : “I GET TO LOVE YOU” - RUELLE

PLAYING ON ELAIN’S SYMPHONIA : “STILL INTO YOU” - MEADOWLARK

NOTE: See Day 21: Dreamland if you’d like to see how Azriel saw his wedding to Elain before it happened.

Azriel pulled away, kissing her once and twice more before linking his pinky with hers. “Until the end of forever.”

Elain nodded, sealing it with another kiss. “Until the end of forever.”

“You ready for this?” Rhys asked, smiling from ear to ear as he straightened the collar of Azriel’s jacket.

“Of COURSE he’s ready, look at him! He looks like a fairytale prince!” Cass said, pinching Az’s cheek.

Azriel laughed. “Ready for the wedding? Yes, thanks to Nesta. Ready to spend the rest of my life with Elain? Absolutely.” He said his voice thick with emotion, looking down as tears filled his eyes. "Been waiting 500 years for her."

“Az…dammit…” Cassian said, wiping at his own eyes and hugging his brother, Rhysand hugging them both.

“This never has to leave this room.” Cassian said, sniffling.

Rhysand laughed. “Are you kidding? Crying wasn’t even a question, the bet was on which of us would cry first.” Rhysand said, wiping his own eyes.

Nesta straightened Elain’s sparkling veil with tears in her eyes. “You look so beautiful, El.”

“Oh Nesta, if you start, we all will.” Feyre warned, grabbing a handkerchief and handing it to her sister.

“You really do look beautiful, Elain.” Feyre agree, hugging her sister, and dabbing at her own eyes. “You’re so perfect together, perfect for one another.”

Elain hugged Feyre, beaming and holding her own tears in. “Thank you for helping me find him, for helping me find myself.” She said, taking both her sisters hands.

Nesta sniffled, pulling both of her sisters into her arms, letting her tears fall. The three sisters staying in each others arms until there was a soft knock at the door. “Is it time?” Elain asked.

“No, not yet, calm down.” Feyre laughed as she opened the door to reveal Lucien.

“I’m here to see the Bride if she has a moment.” Lucien said, looking every bit the heir of a High Lord.

Elain nodded. “Of course, come in.”

“We’ll see you again before its time.” Nesta assured Elain as she followed Feyre out.

Lucien walked in and Elain smiled up at him. Their relationship-their friendship had changed so much in such a short time. After avoiding each other for months over their own ill-fated bond, they bonded helping each other find and save the people they were truly meant to be with.

“Day suits you.” She said, smiling. Lucien nodded in appreciation.

“Thank you, Dusk suits you.” He said, adding. “It goes without saying, but, you deserve to be happy with someone of your choosing, Elain. I’m glad you found that happiness.”

“Thank you, Lucien. You deserve the same, and Vassa is very lucky to have you.” She said, not needing her Seer ability to notice how comfortable and happy Lucien and the mortal Queen were around one another.

“Thank you, Elain." He said, blushing slightly and not bothering to deny his coupling with Vassa. “Well, I’d better get to it, before Nesta comes back and drags me out of here. I didn't just come to pass on my congratulations, I came to give you something.” He said, pulling a small compass from his pocket and holding it out for her to take.

Elain felt the tears prick at her eyes almost immediately as she recognized it and took it into her shaking hand.

“Your father gave this to me when we started our journey back to Prythian, he asked me to give it to you today-on your wedding day, something old?” He added, slightly confused.

Elain smiled sadly, as she ran her thumb over the cracked glass. Today, the pain of his loss was especially strong, she'd been feeling his absence all day, had spent the last few weeks wishing that he could have met Azriel and the rest of their family. She hoped that wherever he was, that he knew that she was safe, happy and with someone who loved her. “It doesn’t work, hasn’t for ages, I tried to use it once and from then on it would only point North. Papa just kept it for good luck."

Lucien watched her. “Maybe it was never meant to work for him. Y’know you can’t get much farther North than the Night court, or the Illyrian Mountains.”

“That’s a lovely thought, Lucien.” She said softly, tears filling her eyes. “Thank you, for helping him be here in some way today.” She cried, pressing the compass to her heart as she threw her arm around him, hugging him tightly. Lucien hugged her back, not letting go until she did. Another knock at the door brought Rhysand sauntering in, shutting the door behind him.

“Making the bride cry, Luc?” he teased.

“Happy tears, only happy tears.” Elain said, dabbing her tears away. “Is it time?”

“Just about.” He nodded, clapping Lucien on the back in greeting.

“I’d better get back to Vassa.” Lucien said, hugging Elain one last time as she whispered her thanks again before he walked out and headed back to the hall.

Elain smiled up at Rhysand. “How is he?”

“Feeling like the luckiest man alive.” He said, grinning. “He’s not wrong. You’re absolutely stunning.”

Elain blushed, tears in her eyes. “Thank you, but I’m the lucky one.”

“You’re perfect for him, you know, perfect together.” he said, getting choked up.

Elain watched him, she rarely saw him this emotional and she couldn’t help but wrap her arms around him as he choked out. “Thank you for loving him, El, the way he deserves.”

“I promise to take care of him, Rhys, to love him and protect him like you have Feyre. He means everything to me.” She promised.

“I know you will, El, of that, I have no doubt. Now, if I take any longer, Az is gonna gonna come in here to get you himself, but I have one last task to complete before we go, per human tradition and Nesta’s orders. I’m told you require something old-“

Elain nodded, tapping the compass that now dangled from her bouquet.

“Something new?” He watched as she motioned to her dress. “Something borrowed?” Elain showed off the jeweled hairpins that Feyre had let her borrow, a solstice gift from Rhysand. “Something borrowed usually comes from family who are happily married, in hopes that their happiness will transfer over to the new couple.” Elain added.

“Well, I know you and Az will be every bit as happy as Feyre and I are, and that just leaves something blue.” Elain nodded and tapped the blue ribbon wrapped around her bouquet, it was the same ribbon Azriel had tied around the first bouquet of flowers he’d ever given her.

"Shall we then?” Rhysand smiled and offered his hand and she took it, laughing as he lifted his hand to twirl her before tucking her hand into the crook of his arm and giving her a nod. Elain returned it, a dazzling smile already on her face, she was ready and they both headed out.

Azriel took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves as he stood waiting.

“Keep breathing like that and you’ll faint before she gets out here.” Cassian teased, smiling over at him. Azriel chuckled and smiled, Cassian had never seen his brother so happy before and he wished more than anything that he and his brothers would enjoy this kind of happiness for the rest of their long, long lives.

Elain and Rhysand stood just on the other side of the closed doors, Feyre and Nesta adjusting Elain’s veil and flowers until it really was time and they both filed through the open doors as soft orchestral music filled the great hall. Cassian winked at Nesta as she made her way to stand at the opposite side of the altar.

“Our turn, El.” Rhysand said, patting her hand and waiting for her to nod before leading her down the aisle. His smile broadened as he felt Elain’s grip tighten slightly as Azriel came in to view, her smile bright enough to light up the entire room.

Elain couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, he was the most handsome male she had ever seen, a fairytale prince ready for their happily ever after.

Azriel’s breath caught and he stilled as Elain entered the hall, stunned by her ethereal beauty and grace. Rhysand walked arm in arm with her, bringing her closer to him, closer to their future together with each step, her eyes never leaving his.

In the first row of seats, his mother dabbed the tears from her eyes. Mor held back tears of her own, Emerie giving her hand a gentle squeeze. Nuala and Cerridwen held each other's hands, dabbing their tears and reveling in the union of their Spymaster and best friend. Amren watched, nodding to Azriel, her way of saying he’d done well for himself…and not to screw it up. Never before in his life had Azriel ever thought that this kind of happiness would ever be a part of his life, but here he was-again, he realized. He’d been here before, in a dream, a dream that was finally coming true. Every bad thing that had ever happened to him, every bad thing that he’d ever done, felt washed away by this newfound happiness, this blissful existence he had finally found with Elain.

Rhysand and Elain finally reached the end of the aisle, Rhys carefully lifting her veil and kissing her cheek before handing her off to Azriel and joining Cassian at his side, Feyre and Nesta at Elain’s side. The smile that Elain leveled up at Azriel was so full of love it made his heart feel as if it were bursting at the seams. It warmed his heart and made his soul sing, he lowered his head and Elain reached up to brush his tears away, her eyes glossy now too. Azriel turned, pressing a kiss to her palm before Gwyn cleared her throat and began, thrilling at the chance to officiate this unique ceremony for her mentor and her new friend.

“Honored and cherished guests, we are gathered here today on this joyous occasion to celebrate the marriage and union between Azriel and Elain Archeron. A union honoring not only the human traditions of Elain’s former mortal life, but celebrating the loving bond that the mother and cauldron have seen fit to bless them with in her new fae life.

This union is a promise, a vow to love, cherish and honor one another for the rest of their lives. It is a symbol of the love and bond that exists between them, a symbol of how far they have come and a vow to face any new challenges together as one. Now, as is tradition, the Bride and Groom will exchange vows.

Gwyn’s smile glowed as she watched, completely enthralled as Azriel turned to Elain, taking her shaking hand in his, his eyes of warm honey meeting her amber pools as he recited his vows.

“Elain, I pledge to you my everlasting devotion, loyalty and respect. I vow to honor you everyday, to protect you and cherish your dreams as if they were my own. My heart, my soul, my life, all of me is yours and has been from the moment I met you. Thank you for dreaming with me, building a future with me, for choosing me, for loving me.” Azriel’s voice was thick with emotion, Elain squeezed his hand gently, her eyes never leaving his, even as tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I can’t promise that things will always be perfect but I can promise that I will always be there to face any challenge with you, be your light in any darkness, I will always come for you. I will spend eternity loving you and showing you everyday that I hold you higher than the stars. I swear to love you in this life and every lifetime hereafter.

Azriel took a shuddering breath, relief washing over him that he hadn’t stumbled over his words, his charming smile returning as he looked down at Elain as she began to recite her vows.

Elain smiled up at him, love shining in her eyes like he had never seen before as she gently took his hand in her own and recited the vows she had written for him.

“Azriel, You are the most incredible person I have ever known. I am so lucky to be standing beside you today. I vow to protect, honor, respect and cherish you forever. To be your sunshine when darkness falls, your comfort when you feel pain and the kiss that wakes you every day. I promise to grow alongside you to become the people that we’re meant to be together. Thank you for showing me what true love really is, you are the love of my life, my best friend, my everything.” Azriel reached up to gently thumb her tears away before wiping his own. “You are my dream come true, the song in my soul and my light in the darkness. You will forever have my heart, my soul and my hand. If I lived a thousand lives, I would choose you every time. I swear to love you in this life and every lifetime hereafter.

Gwyn dabbed at her eyes, sniffling as she continued. “Azriel, do you take Elain to be your wedded wife, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?”

Azriel nodded. “I do. Let this ring be a symbol of my vows to you, my best friend, my wife, of our unending love.” He slipped the ring onto Elain’s finger, a band of diamonds and sapphires, 7 sapphires to match his 7 siphons. Azriel’s heart felt whole and full as he placed a gentle kiss on her ring.

Gwyn beamed. “Elain, do you take Azriel to be your wedded husband, in sickness and in health, in joy and in sorrow, forsaking all others as long as you both shall live?”

Elain nodded, “I do. Let this ring be a symbol of my vows to you, my best friend, my husband, of our unending love.” Elain beamed as she slid the band onto Azriel’s finger, engraved with Illyrian runes for “love” and “eternity”. Elain placed her own kiss over his ring, lacing their fingers together as they turned to face Gwyn.

“May the mother and the cauldron continue to bless your bond, your love, your future and this marriage. May your bonded hearts and twin souls never be parted, and may there be no storm your love cannot weather. With all the power and authority that I possess, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Azriel, you may kiss your Bride.”

At last Azriel cradled Elain’s face in his hands and their lips met, a kiss of unyielding, undying and everlasting love, those golden threads of their bond dancing and winding around them, their souls more bound to one another than ever before. Elain’s heart soared, it was more wonderful than any wedding she could have imagined before, because she was surrounded by family and friends that she loved and she was standing beside her one true soulmate, the man she would happily spend the rest of her life with. Azriel pulled away, kissing her once and twice more before linking his pinky with hers. “Until the end of forever.”

Elain nodded, sealing it with another kiss. “Until the end of forever.”

Swirls of ink seemed curl and flourish under their wedding rings, peeking around the edges and complimenting them perfectly, symbols of their love and their promise to honor and cherish one another until the end of their days and beyond, honoring both their traditions in this unbreakable bargain and bond.

Azriel smiled and led Elain back down the aisle, picking her up and carrying her through their cheering friends and family as the music played again.

"That was lovely..." Gwyn said, watching as she dabbed the tears from her eyes. "but what happens next?" she whispered to Cassian.

Cassian smirked, offering his arm to Nesta. "Now, we revel! Drink and dance!"

"And singing? I heard there might be singing..." Gwyn said, following the pair where they would all dance, drink, sing and celebrate the happiness that they had all finally found.

[imthepunchlord]

I’ve been thinking a lot about how Tikki getting sick in DaB!Princess Fragrance would affect someone like Lila and how the whole debacle would affect their relationship. I can see her brushing off Tikki’s need to see a doctor in favor of trying to figure out how to get close to Prince Ali while he’s visiting (“she’s magic, she’ll be fine for one day”), possibly even hoping that Rose will get akumatized after seeing the whole interaction with Chloe ripping up her letter (“it’s her own stupid fault for trying to ask Chloe of all people for that kind of favor and thinking it would actually work anyway”) so that she can introduce herself as Bella Stella. And even in the case where she’s not so preoccupied with Prince Ali that she doesn’t think of giving Adrien her own chemistry notes, I can’t see Lila tripping over someone’s bag in the same way Marinette did while walking over to him, meaning that Tikki stays with Lila the whole time. She could also use Tikki as a toy herself and tell the doorman that she’s brought her to give to Ali for the sick kids. Tikki could be irritated enough with the whole ordeal that she doesn’t bother to tell Lila what would happen with her transformation while she’s ill (it's implied that she won't be able to hold the transformation for as long after Lucky Charm or give the physical enhancement powers to the same extent and that it makes her condition even worse), meaning Bella Stella would have to conserve her strength when Princess Fragrance arrives and pull off many of the same tricks Marinette did despite being transformed. Since Lila is shown to stick to her guns in canon, I can see her being stubborn enough to stay transformed instead of stopping mid-akuma appearance to get Tikki taken care of, which means that once Princess Fragrance is defeated, Bella Stella will have no choice but to run off and miss her chance to talk to Prince Ali, as her countdown is going much faster, and finally take Tikki to a healer. Given the redemption angle of the story, it could be a hard first lesson in taking what Tikki has to say and her state of health more seriously, though the empathy side of it instead of the “practical” side of it would probably come much later. Hell, seeing how strained Tikki and Lila are with each other during the healing could even be what inspires Master Fu to take a more direct approach in recruiting Marinette depending on how early you want her to start her Guardian training.

For the sake of this ask, we'll have it for set happening pretty early before Lila's redemption gets going.

A lot that you described would be on the nose.

She would be more dismissive of Tikki asking for a doctor.

She would hope for Rose to become an akuma.

Ali would be a lot bigger than Adrien, at least for this day, he's not a priority.

Lila wouldn't trip over bags, she's more conscious of her surroundings (Marinette tripped because she was fully focused on Tikki)

Lila would still transform despite sick Tikki; Tikki was ready for Marinette to transform despite being. So we're assuming little to no threat for the user to use a sick kwami.

The rest not quite sure on.

Lila doesn't work the same as Marinette, and one of her greatest downfalls is her own hubris and not factoring in everything (example: lying that you're the best friend of a hero not considering that said hero will hear about this and not be happy about this). I see her getting in as Bella Stella herself, here to welcome the prince to her city. Marinette follows as she pays attention to her friends and overheard Tikki's sneezing, and spying on them, can see that the two are arguing.

PF arrives and Tikki can't hold that transformation anymore, and it doesn't work out for Lila. Cue Marinette's elaborate plan to help, gets Tikki, follows her instructions to Fu who quietly contemplates over the girl he had initially picked.

Tikki's better and their off, her urging Marinette to dawn on the spots to address this. Marinette does so and solves things, but doesn't keep the earrings, sending Tikki back to Lila.

Lila is put off that the previous LB showed up to save the day and sent Tikki and earrings back to her, and starts to wonder about her. Cleraly there's nothing for her to be concerned about, but Tikki's clear bias for her isn't helping her mood.

Still, she startles Tikki by admitting that she should've listened when Tikki said she needed attention. If she did, the transformation wouldn't have fallena way and the previous LB wouldn't have needed to step in. Which sucks as SHE'S supposed to be the hero yet, there's no she can really blame this on aside from herself. She's humble enough to acknowledge this, but Tikki is to NOT get used to it. It is incredibly rare for Lila to ever be wrong about anything.

Tikki rolls her eyes at this, but does take note that it is a small bit of progress. Lila may not be Tikki's choice, but perhaps things could improve.

.

.

Or something along those lines. Not to say it would go exactly like this, but if PF is still quite early, then it'd be like this. Ish.

[jimlingss]

Moirai [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

➜ Words: 5k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

“Thank you for inviting me, Lady Anastasia.”   Lucienne sits across the rounded table from you, oblivious to the blossom petals that have drifted down and tangled itself into her hair. The tea party invitation rests beside her teacup, neat and crisp like she held and opened it with the utmost care.    “Yes, thank you.” The other lady beside her pipes up. “It’s an absolute honour.”   “The Royal gardens are lovely this season,” another adds. “I’m glad I can enjoy it like this.”   “It’s not a problem, everyone.” A friendly smile stretches across your face. “It can get quite lonely being the only lady in the castle, so your company is welcome.”   More like Lady Devon and your other tutors was pretty damn insistent that you build a good reputation and inner circle, but whatever. What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.   But you do remember that in the original game, Anastasia used this opportunity to shame the heroine. She invited her to a tea party and made snide remarks about how she danced with the Prince. Of course it seems petty now but it’s understandable that Anastasia resented the heroine so much. Even if she didn’t intend it, she humiliated Anastasia by stealing her fiancé.   And the fact of the matter is that you’ll also become the laughingstock for what she’ll do.   “If I may ask, have you started the wedding arrangements yet, Lady Anastasia?”   You nearly choke on your tea, sputtering for a moment until you’re able to set the cup down on the saucer and cough into your napkin. The ladies around the table appear concerned, but you plaster on another smile. “Well, there’s been no discussion yet. The Royal family and the Devereux house are in no rush. There’s still quite a bit of time, so who knows what could happen.”   “What could happen?” One of them catches on quick and you cordially nod.   “The engagement was made when both Prince Jungkook and I were very young, but now that we are older, we can voice our own opinions on the matter.” You choose your words carefully and your smile widens. “I am not opposed if changes are made. If the leaders of the empire cannot exercise their own freedoms, then how can the people?”    They nod in agreeance, a few in awe at your deep thought process. “That is very mature of you, Lady Anastasia.”   You laugh stiffly and lift your tea cup for another sip.   “Oh, but the Crown Prince is so wonderful.”   You choke. Again. You wonder if you’re going to die at this tea party from the warm liquid constantly going down the wrong pipe.    “I am sure he wouldn’t change his mind with how lovely you are, Lady Anastasia.” The girl beside you smiles, laying it on thick to win your favour. “You two are a very fitting couple.”   “I agree.” Lucy smiles softly. “Prince Jungkook is very courteous.”   “And very majestic.”   You remember when you dueled with Jungkook, he lost within a minute. He threw a tantrum in the following days and gave you the silent treatment. Or that time you went horseback riding, you decided to race each other and he fell off his own horse into mud and started crying.   Uh-huh. Majestic indeed.   You chalk up your wheeze to nothing and dab the corner of your mouth with the tablecloth napkin. “Yes, well, Jungkook will make a fine King someday.”   “And you’ll make a fine Queen,” a soft-spoken voice pipes up and your eyes connect to Lucy’s. Unlike the others surrounding you, you know her words are genuinely spoken and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.   “I’m not so sure about that,” you honestly admit as you fidget with the edge of the porcelain saucer. “A queen must be kind and generous and know the suffering of the people. I’m afraid I have a lot left to learn.”   Your gaze meets Lucy’s again.   Her smile is all too gentle for high society and its naturally cunning, heartless nature. She’s awfully naive, but that aside, you know her benevolence will make her beloved in the empire.   //   Once the tea party is over, you’re able to breathe a sigh of relief. Christ, thank god that’s over.   You escort most of the ladies towards their carriages, bidding them goodbye with polite waves as the palace servants clear the dishes, chairs and table away from the garden. And you turn around to head back to your room to sneak in a break, but your name is frantically called—   “Lady Anastasia!”   You turn and a girl in her purple, simple gown comes barrelling down the open hall. Her chest rises and falls, completely out of breath even when she only ran two meters. It makes you laugh unabashedly. “Is everything okay? You don’t need to run.”   She hunches over, lungs probably burning, but she fixes her posture a moment later. “S-Sorry, my lady.”   “Anastasia is fine.”   Lucy nods. “I...just wanted to thank you again. I was very excited when I received your invitation. It’s an honour….Anastasia.”   “There’s no reason to thank me so much.” You walk alongside her. Your hat with pinned pink peonies, matching your gown, shields the sun away from your face.   “It’s just that I don’t get invited to these sort of events often considering….considering I’m just a baron’s daughter and adopted one at that.”   She doesn’t need to tell you — you know her backstory well. You’ve played through it from her perspective. Her father abandoned her mother who died of illness when she was five and she was picked up on the streets by the sympathetic baron. It seems like every character in this game has some tragic backstory. They are defining moments that make that person.   But you suppose life itself is like that.   “Can I give you some advice, Lucy?” you ask after a quiet moment and she nods. You stop walking and the girl halts beside you. “Your humility makes you likeable, but be careful not to self-deprecate yourself. Your worth is more than what you consider yourself to have.”   Her eyes widen and you add, “Plus, it’s not good to thank a host more than once like they’ve done you a big favour because they’ll start to think you owe them for it.”   Lucy nods and you smile, resuming your stroll. “I’ll be inviting you to more tea parties in the future.”   “Thank—” She catches herself. “Yes, I will be looking forward to that.”   A grin spreads into your cheeks. “On a different note, I never got to ask you how your dance was with Jungkook at the debutante ball.”   “Oh, yes, the Prince was very kind. But I’m sorry if it was inappropriate, I know he’s your fiancé—”   This time, your laugh is unrestrained. She looks up at you in surprise. “Do you think I’m getting jealous?” Lucy opens her mouth and then closes it, not sure what to say and you bat the air with your hand. “Jungkook is like a little brother to me.”   If she was surprised before, now she looks entirely off guard. “It thought the Prince and you were the same age.”   You laugh stiffly. “Yes, we are, but I guess that’s what childhood friends are like.”   “Oh, I’ve never had a childhood friend.”   “Have you ever had a friend?” Your eyes meet her’s and you smile. “Because I’d be happy to be your first.”   The conversation soon ends and as Lucy walks away, you breathe another sigh of relief and pat yourself on the back at the positive interaction. Even if she’s just a countryside girl, it’s nerve-racking when you’re supposed to be the villainess. You like her and you even offered your friendship, but with each interaction, your demise is always lingering at the back of your head.   “I didn’t take you for being such a mentor.”   You whirl around, nearly startled to death by the voice and you discover a tall, dark-haired man leaning against the marble pillar with a sly smile.   “How long have you been there?”   Taehyung grins. “Not long. I was just passing by. It was a coincidence.” He turns in the direction where Lucy went. “I heard you had a tea party, how did it go?”   “It was exhausting.” You stretch your arms over your head and walk over to lean against the stone ledge next to him. “I don’t think I’m quite fit for the palace life.”   Taehyung smiles and you look up at him. “Are you going to the garden again?”   He nods and there’s a strong urge to ask him if you can come along. Just for a small break before they find you and you’re swept up in another lesson. But you’re not sure if you should—   “Would you like to come?”    Taehyung asks the question for you and your eyes meet one another’s.   There’s no one around. Not a soul in sight who could stop you from going or leaving.   You know you should keep your distance from him. You know. But…   “Okay.”   You take him up on the offer, following after him, just for a moment of indulgence.

With the arrival of Spring also comes the Hunt. It’s a rather eventful time in the castle considering it's generally symbolic of the harvests of this year, thought to prevent famine if those attending can bring back large game. An irony that isn’t lost on you. But it’s an undoubtedly lively time and one that you don’t mind.   “You better bring back a whole moose,” you mumble as you tie the blue ribbon on the belt of Jungkook’s armour, making sure it’s tight and secure. The ribbon is a gift of good luck and one of affection. You’re obligated to tie one for Jungkook considering you’re his fiancée.    “I’ll bring back a dragon,” he declares brazingly and you lightly scoff.   This is his second time participating after winning last year, but you remember he was practically shaking back then out of fear and pressure.   “Okay then. Just make sure you don’t fall off your horse this time.”    “That was only once!”   You take a step back when you’re done tying the ribbon. “I should be the one going on the hunt instead of staying back for idle chit chat. I’m pretty sure I would be able to catch something bigger than you.”   “Probably.” Jungkook grins. “You’re good enough with your sword to be a knight.”   “They’d never let me.” You sigh. God knows your mother would be mortified and probably faint and die.    But while staying back and waiting for the men to return with their kill is boring as hell, at least you’re removed from the pressure of having to hunt large prey in the first place. It’s a competition after all and one that can get quite competitive from your knowledge.   You follow Jungkook to his prized white horse and watch him caress its muzzle.    “If you win, you should give the prize to Lucy.”   His brows furrow and he turns his head to you. “Lucienne? The girl I danced with at the ball? Why?”   You shrug half-heartedly. “Because she has no one and I feel bad for her. I already have a few knights who are going to dedicate their game to me.”   Jungkook hums, not thinking much about it. “Fine by me.”   He puts his foot on the stirrup and swings himself over, sitting on top of the majestic horse.   Preparations almost complete, you turn to the King who’s seated at the top of the stands in a throne-like chair. He looks across the field with an approving expression.   Your parents are beside the King and you spare them a mere glance before turning away. You haven’t spoken to them since the end of the debutante ball and you don’t plan to. It might be childish to give them the silent treatment, but you wonder to what end they’ll try to force you.   The attendant steps up. “Is everyone ready?”   At that exact same moment, as if he was called upon, a familiar dark-haired man with eyes the hue of deep honey enters your peripheral vision. Taehyung emerges onto the field filled with knights on horses and soldiers in armour. His navy cape draped over his left shoulder sways with each movement, twinkling in the sunlight as if there were stars sewn into the fabric. He’s grasping onto a steel pole, a magical staff and his presence garners whispers from all.   “Isn’t he the bastard son?” — “The first son of the King.” — “The one born from the maid.”   They’re all startled to see him — the nobles sitting in the stands, women murmuring underneath their breaths, men watching with their eyes wide, knights and guards. And most of all, you’re stuck at a standstill.   Heart thunderous in your ears — blood drained from your face — you can’t look away when all Taehyung is looking at is you.    He comes close and his expression melts into a tender smile, a softened gaze when he reads your eyes’ fixation on him.    Jungkook, on the other hand, grins and mounts off his horse. “Taehyung?!” The Prince welcomes his brother warmly — an action not unnoticed by the crowds watching. He hugs him and lets go a moment later. “What are you doing here?”   “What can I say? I’m here to steal your victory.”   The younger laughs and you can tell he’s genuinely excited. Jungkook’s cheeks are practically pink and bulging, and his eyes have brightened. “Do you want to put a bet on that?”   “How much are you willing to wager?” Taehyung quips back.   “My pride and dignity.”   He scoffs playfully. “How about your private library collection?”   “Deal. And if I win, I want you to come to the feast tonight.”   Taehyung grins. “Looks like this year’s going to be difficult for you, Your Highness.”   “I’ll keep up.” Jungkook laughs again and gets back on his horse.   A stable-boy comes rushing over with a horse for Taehyung and before the King can utter a single word or you have a chance to speak to him, the games have begun. Taehyung glances over his shoulder at you for a single beat and then he’s off into the woods with the rest.    In the original game, Taehyung never participated in the Hunt.   He looked on from the window of his tower and even sabotaged Jungkook.    In the original game, Jungkook became injured but still conscious enough that before he fated, he declared he would give his prize to the heroine since Anastasia was so overbearing. It sparked the girl’s jealousy and was the reason why she decided to conspire with Taehyung. It was the first domino in the chain — the beginning of the villains working hand in hand.   But none of that is happening.   You wonder how far your choices will continue to deviate from the story. How many more mistakes—   “Are you alright, Anastasia?”   You jolt, torn out of your deep trance by a worried gaze. Lucy has leaned in towards you, her brows knitted together and you smile. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about something.” You quickly change the subject. “Have you given your ribbon to anyone yet?”   The pair of you are walking down the castle hall, heading towards the dining hall where you know the noble women will be having tea and making small talk while waiting for their sons and husbands.   Lucy shakes her head and unties the blue ribbon she had around her wrist.    “Why not?”   She stares at the soft satin for a second and then looks up at you, mustering a small smile. “I wouldn’t know who to give it to.”   “Well, you still have time to decide. You can give it to someone when they get back.” You hum to yourself. “How about giving it the Crown Prince?”   Lucy’s eyes are as large as saucers and she blinks thrice.   You’re a bit endeared with how surprised she seems at your suggestion. “Don’t you admire Prince Jungkook?”   “I...I do,” she admits quietly and peeks at you again. “But I wouldn’t want to overstep—”    “Not at all!” You reassure her. “Prince Jungkook likes the admiration. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind whatsoever. He might actually appreciate it.”   The girl smiles to herself and nods.   Evening sets in after meaningless conversations, cordial expressions and polite responses. The only interruptions are the horns that ring as each participant in the Hunt slowly arrives back.   Jungkook returns sweaty and out of breath, but with a whole moose like he promised. There are cheers and applauses, but more importantly, silent gasps when he beelines straight to Lucy to give her the prize. She blushes, a stuttering mess full of ‘thank yous’ and ‘it’s an honour’, and you discover Jungkook’s bashful behaviour at her sincere gratitude.    He scratches the back of his neck, diverts his vision, mutters ‘it’s fine’. It’s fascinating to watch considering he’s always been arrogant and bratty to you since the day you met him.   But you don’t get to observe their moment for long.   Not when the horns ring again and a figure appears over the horizon.    This time, no one moves. Truly stunned. Breaths hitched. Holy shit. Taehyung arrives back with a bear and he doesn’t even look like he’s broken a sweat.   “Wow!” Jungkook is the first to react, moving out of the crowd to his brother. He’s genuinely amazed and impressed, jaw dropped and brows shot to his hairline. “You did this?!”   “Didn’t I say I would win?” Taehyung grins languidly.   “This...is incredible!” Jungkook’s admiration for his brother causes the unsettled crowd to finally calm. It starts off slow, a clap here or there and then it’s applause, cheering and murmurs of acknowledgment.   “Has anyone ever brought a bear back before?” — “Did he use magic?” — “Why didn’t the eldest son participate in the Hunt before?”   And you know that it’s the first time people have clapped for Taehyung.   The attendant rushes forward, sputtering on his words. “T-The winner for this year’s Hunt is His Highness, Prince Taehyung!”   Taehyung wins a chest of gold, worth more than fifty commoner’s lifetimes and you watch as he bows his head as he receives it. You watch as he holds it and strides towards you. You watch until his arms have extended and a smile draws upon his features.   “What are you doing?” you ask, a whisper that’s befallen off your lips, spilled past the astonishment.    His gaze and smile never wavers. “I’m giving my prize to you.”   The crowd’s stirred to silence, watching the two of you, and you receive the wooden chest.   The attendant quickly announces the feast in the hall and servants begin ushering the people inside. But you continue watching Taehyung, your eyes connected to his, both grounded in the private bubble.   No one notices the King sitting on top of the stands, his brows tightly knitted.    //   The dining hall has shifted.   No longer are there laced tablecloths, towers of pastries and teapots from the afternoon. It’s large plates that have stretched along the surface, meats and cheese, breads and butters that have begun the feast. There are grandiose chairs all around three different tables, arranged based on importance and connections, conversations that have filled the enormous room.   The darkness of the night is casted away by the chandeliers overhead, illuminating the room in a golden hue. Yet, while each is high on the atmosphere, drunk by the wine, you can’t swallow the food down.    The tapping of utensils on glass has you looking over. The room simmers down.    By the coaxing of Jungkook beside him, Taehyung rises from his chair and clears his throat. It’s customary for the victor of the Hunt to give a speech and you’re guessing this is it.   “Thank you all for coming.” Taehyung appears unfamiliar and awkward addressing the crowd, quickly rushing over his words as if to get it done and over with. “I have never participated in the Hunt before this year and it was only because of beginners luck that I won. That—”    Suddenly, Taehyung looks right at you. “—and the support of those most important to me.”    Then, as quick as he stole his glance, he turns away. “I hope the harvests of Ashea will prosper this year.”   There’s thunderous applause and the feast resumes.   You’re overwhelmed, dizzy, the celebrations of the room getting to your head — laughter, questions, comments louder by ten decibels until it feels earsplitting.   You look over at Jungkook, finding that he has two blue ribbons pinned on his left side. He’s smiling widely, oblivious. Then, your head whirls over to your parents sitting down the table. They might have friendly smiles plastered on their features, but you can tell through their eyes that there’s seething anger. They’re unhappy, most likely with you, most likely with what happened earlier.   “Anastasia.” Lady Devon, who sits beside you, calls you out of your thoughts, disapproving at how your listening skills could be so poor.   You blink, pretending you were in deep thought about her discussion of silver forks and the corner of your mouth tugs. “If you’ll excuse me…”   After a delayed moment, she nods and you push your chair back, blurring into the massive paintings on the wall as you slip out to the terrace.   The night is cold.    Each exhale of yours is visible and you tug the soft pink shawl around your shoulders closer to your body for some warmth as you lean against the railings. You look up at the star-filled sky, finally able to calm yourself from the noise inside. You’ve always been glad that no matter where you are, what universe it is, there’s always the same sun, stars and moon. A constant.   One thing you don’t have to worry about.   “Is there something wrong?”   You know who it is before you’ve even turned around.    It’s a relief. You’ve waited all day to be able to speak to him, to be away from prying eyes and in a private moment. It’s easing. Your nerves take comfort in the familiarity, somehow finding his very presence soothing. Yet it’s unsettling at the same time. You have too many questions, too many suspicions and you don’t know if you want to uncover the truth.   But you gather your strength and face Taehyung. “I’m just thinking.”   “About what?”   Taehyung approaches your side. The warm light from inside the palace spills out and your shadows cast onto the grass beneath the terrace. There is not a soul in the hall when they’re all inside the dining hall, celebrations and conversations muffled through the many walls.   You inhale a breath. “Why?”   Taehyung frowns.   You ask again, “Why did you give me your prize?”   “Should I not have?”   Half of his face is illuminated, the slope of his nose and dip of his cupid’s bow sharp against the glow of the chandeliers, reminiscent of the chiaroscuro of a painting.   “That’s not it. Just…..” Why does he treat you so kindly, why does he want to go out of his way to talk to you, why does he look at you like that— “Why?”   In the original game, Anastasia was Taehyung’s chess piece and nothing more.   “Does there need to be a reason?” The corner of his mouth tugs gingerly. “I wanted to, so I did.”   “But there’s so many eligible bachelorettes you could’ve them them to, like Lady Myoi or Lady Paxton—”   “None of them matter,” he injects without needing to blink or think twice. “Not like you do.”   Your head snaps up and your eyes meet. Taehyung gazes at you tenderly, searching your irises with a small smile and he swallows hard. His voice lowers when he asks, “Are you cold?”    Oddly enough, even with the chilly wind whisking through the branches and swaying the leaves, you aren’t cold if he’s here.    Yet suddenly, Taehyung snaps his fingers and you’re engulfed with the warmth of an embrace. It’s the heat of a winter fire crackling underneath the mantle, the Summer sun casting down on your cheeks, and it travels from your toes to your head, and you can’t help the giggle that spills from you.    “What did you just do?”   He grins and leans closer to you. “It’s a simple warmth spell.”   Your brow cocks. “How much magic do you exactly know?”    He even managed to get that bear without looking like he had to fight. Your efforts to get him not to tap into magic all those years ago were in vain, but you have to admit it’s pretty cool.   Taehyung looks away, smile easing. “It doesn’t matter how much magic I have. It’s not enough for what I really want.”    Your breath hitches in your throat. The implications of his words welcomes the tension back into the air that had snuck itself away for a simple moment. But it isn’t uncomfortable. It isn’t the kind of tension that comes when you’re speaking to the Duke and Duchess, not the stiffness that arrived when you were being scolded by Edith. No. It’s different. It’s….intimate.    Especially when he sneaks a glance at you and you hold it, eyes fixated into his.   None of you speak, breathe, bat a lash. Not when Taehyung starts to lean in close. Not when you begin to feel the heat of his cheeks on your skin, when you can hear the thunderous noise of his heartbeat bruising his rib cage. His lash tickles yours. But before your lips can brush—   You push him away.   Taehyung stumbles back, nearly falling over, but he grasps the railings.   Your breath heaves and you stare at him in shock, in horror with what was about to happen. And before anything can be said or done, you turn away.   “Wait! Anastasia!” Taehyung calls after you. “I’m sorry!”   “I….I need to leave.”   You can’t deviate from the story more than you already have. This is a mistake.   In the midst of your panic, you return to the dining hall and cut through the room. It’s the quickest way back to your chambers, so you don’t hesitate to move your steps, never once looking behind your shoulder. Luckily, Taehyung doesn’t follow after you. He can’t.    But while each is celebrating and distracted with their company, a certain girl notices your distraught and frantic form beelining to the massive doors.   Something doesn’t sit right in her, so she immediately stands and bows her head to the woman she was speaking to. “If you can excuse me, thank you, I’ll be right back.”   Lucy follows after you, eyes pinned on your backside.   The only people who pay any mind is your mother, the Duchess of Devereux. Her senses are sharp and she taps your father on the shoulder until he follows her line of sight to the girl.   The castle grounds are dark, the moon waxing but not yet full enough to provide a bright light. But enough is shed for you to see. It’s enough for shadows to cast along the stone walls. You would never walk outside at this time of night, but you need air. More of it. Something you can breathe in and hope will clear the cloudiness inside your mind, the noise that’s earsplitting.   A gentle tap on your shoulder has you screaming.   “It’s me!” Lucy puts her hands out, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.”   You catch your breath, steadying it and you swallow hard. “W-What are you doing outside? I thought you were still celebrating the feast.”   “I saw you walking by and I thought something was wrong and I got worried, I’m sorry.” She looks at you when the silence is ongoing. The concern is evident through her knitted brows. “Are you alright, Anastasia?”   It seems like everyone is asking you that question today.   A question you don’t know how to respond to yourself.   But you manage a nod and a smile. “I’m fine. I was just tired. I was thinking of retiring to my room early.”   “Oh, okay.”   You step towards her and grasp her hands within your own. “Can you do me a favour, Lucy, and keep Jungkook company tonight? He might be looking for me too and I don’t want him to be worried.”   “I will.” She nods. “But do you want me to escort you to your room? I could call someone—”   “No, it’s quite alright. I’ll be fine.” You smile and let go of her. “You should go back now before someone goes looking for you.”   Lucy nods for a second time and she bids you a goodnight as she walks back.   You’re left by yourself and you turn to tread your own way. The weight of so many decisions lie upon your shoulders and slow down your steps. You wonder why you have to bear the heavy burden of knowing your future, of knowing all of theirs while trying to escape your own fate.    It feels like you’re a pawn trying to control the whole chess board.   You exhale a breath, watching the cloud dissipate and unbeknownst to you, there’s a rustle in the garden’s bushes.   “That’s her, isn't it?”   Two shadows emerge from the darkness and before your ears can pick up on the noise, before you can turn around and meet the figures, a cloth is clamped over your mouth. Your shout is muffled and arms begin to drag you in the opposite direction of the castle.   What the fuc—    Immediately, your elbow juts out and the man behind you sputters, cowering over with a curse. You manage to slip out of his loosened grip, about to sprint and yell. Until another overtakes you and grabs hold of your wrists, yanking you back.   “Wench!” A cold blade sits at the juncture of your throat and you freeze, breaths tearing out of your throat frantically. You can fight him. Years of swordsmanship didn’t render you useless after all. But his threat delays you— “Shut your mouth if you don’t want Baron of Liza dead too.”   What?   Your mouth is stuffed with cloth and you’re roughly ripped into the darkness.   At the same time, Taehyung, still at the terrace and about to leave, turns around.

[stardancerluv]

Runs for Herself and Enjoys to the Protection

Summary: Things go awry for reader and her client. Roman has to make sure nothing like this happens again to his girl.

⚠️ 🛑 Special Note, Warning ⚠️ 🛑

— Since returning to work, I have been cursed out, screamed at...wished ill. This past weekend was no exception. So to work through this, I wrote this. Yes, for the story I made it more intense. I also based it off some horrible treatment I was at the receiving end of. Only, I sadly had no one but myself to fall back on.

So I am not trying to use anything in this for the sake of a story. Needed to get some feelings off my chest. (In the story there is...unwanted advances, unwanted & violent touches and mentions of blood, & a murder.)

“Come on beautiful, if you can give out to Sionis you can give out to me.”

“Umm, that’s not how it works.”

You shivered in disgust as you felt his fingers in your hair.

“If you can’t stop touching me, I will cancel the contract.”

“Listen, think of Roman and it won’t be so bad.” He laid his hands on your shoulders as he chuckled.

“That’s it. We are done here.” You turned to face him. “I’ll have my lawyer call you.”

Next thing you knew you were seeing stars in front of your eyes as you found yourself laying partially on the desk. You could only reason, you had bumped your head.

“Listen, no one has ever complained before.” He hung over you and licked his worm like lips.

“Get away from me.” You pleaded, kicking you landed on his knee. He howled in pain, that’s when you jumped down from the desk.

He grabbed you, “No you don’t.” He back handed you and then back handed you again. The pain exploded in your face and once again you were seeing stars.

You had to do something, you eyed the situation. You had to get away. You could do this. With all of your strength you pushed him. Tumbling back, you finally ran.

“Not so fast deary.”

He soon stopped you by grabbing your dress with one of his meaty hands. You fought, you to free your dress. Hope grew in you as the fabric began to give. The sound as it rip was loud and filled the entire room. With your heart hurting you continued to run.

Everything was a blur some of his men stirred from being hunched over a card game they were playing.

“Get back here. No one runs from me.”

“Louie grab her.” You ran faster.

You managed to get outside, you ran desperately to a cab you saw sitting at a red light. You practically tore open the door and slammed the door shut, you were grateful no one was in side. It was a struggle to calm your breathing enough to talk.

“Ma’am what are....oh damn. Um where do you need to go?”

You looked and saw one of the goons coming over. “Go, please go!” Luckily then the light changed and he pealed away. Thankfully the traffic was not so busy on the south side of Gotham. “Take me to the Black Mask Club.”

“Ok ma’am.”

You finally took a mental breath. Looking, at your dress, a chill came over you. You would not cry, you just had to get there.

Never had you been more relieved to see Zsasz smoking outside. His eyes grew when he saw you.

“Please pay the cabbie. I don’t have my purse.”

He took a long drag of his cigarette and nodded. “Sure.”

When passed each other he whispered telling you he was upstairs.

Inside you felt so hollow, so hurt. You had always dealt with all different walks of life in Gotham. No one ever did this. You slumped against the wall of the elevator. You didn’t dare touch your face, the pain was beyond belief.

You winced when the elevator dinged announcing itself. You questioned yourself the closer you drew to his office. Perhaps you should let it go and just call your lawyer cancel the contract. It was bound to happen dealing with all the types in Gotham.

“What the fuck happened? Look at me!” Barked Roman.

You shook, you heard him exhale and as he drew closer. How did he already know, but then you realized Zsasz probably texted him.

You looked up into the very hard face of Roman. His features were razor sharp in his anger. You could watch as his eyes softened.

“Oh baby.” You bowed your head as you felt his eyes move over you. Your view filled with him as he stood right in front of you. “Baby.” His voice was gentle despite the clipped under tone. “Don’t look away. We need to get you cleaned up and then I want you to tell me everything.”

“Ok.”

*******

The was cloth was warm and comforting as he wiped away the dried tears and blood. The fresh tears came when you finally saw your face. He drew you close and just held you. His heart beat hard and fast in his chest.

He held you out of the dress, which he told you he would bring to the incinerator. You would never have to see it again.

Later, dressed in something much more comfortable. He just held you and gently ran your fingers through your hair.

You were finally feeling better in a half dozy state after the roller coaster your emotions went through. You felt Roman stiffen as his phone buzzed in his suit jacket.

Blinking, you looked up at him, you watched as he swallowed. “I have to go and take care of this.”

You clung to him, you uncontrollably just buried your face into his chest. You wanted to disappear. His cologne, his solidness felt so safe.

“Baby, I’ll be back before you know it. I can’t let this go.”

It almost made you cry again when you realized he knew you were concerned about him.

Looking up, you sigh you closing your eyes as his hand gently held your cheek.

“You’re my girl. I have to protect you.”

“I know.”

******

After slipping his suit jacket back on over his holster you knew what he was about to go and do. You were not ill. You and Roman had been together for two years. Over those two years, good and bad things. He kept what he could away from you. It was his life, his business it was him managing his slice of Gotham.

You were there to love and support him. You were not clueless, what happened today was stepping over the line. With your business you were supposed to be able to move freely around. Being with Roman made you safer and gave you a freedom, you didn’t have before.

So after parting, you went to the window and waited. Downstairs the rolls was idling.

*****

He glanced up to the window and saw your silhouette. He waved then he slid into back of the car.

His blood was rushing in his ears as he made his way to bastard’s place. He has done some dark things, but seeing you. Watching as the bruises formed and marred your beautiful face he grew ill. No one his girl and would get away with it.

He did not call anyone else, he wasn’t going to get the permission of the others. It was time to act. And he was going to send a fucking message.

*****

Everything went smoothly, he just right in. Knowing, where to go he strode right up to animals office. He stopped just outside the door. He unholstered one of his guns. Faintly he heard giggling, it made blood boil hotter.

Turning the knob, he practically strode. He immediately saw the fuck sitting behind the desk with some bimbo perched in front of him on his desk. She screamed.

He took a breath and gestured with his gun. “Get the fuck out of here.”

She jumped down and ran.

“Here to punish me for what I did?”

Roman aimed and shot him in the knee.

“Yes.”

The man screamed in agony, blood blossomed between his hands has he held his knee. Roman, quietly came around his desk.

“What were you going to do if you caught her?”

The man looked up at him with a slimy smirk. “Enjoy her screams...” The rest was a gargle as he shot him in the throat. Blood splattered his face.

Roman holstered his gun as the man flapped, grasping at his throat. Zsasz walked into the room, looking over at him he smiled.

“Make whatever is left of his life miserable and painful.”

******

After canceling the contract, you desperately tried to distract yourself. It wasn’t working. You didn’t want to fret any longer so you took a hot bath and changed into a silken dress. You wanted at the very least look good for Roman. Your heart swelled greatly knowing that he was defending your honor.

You brushed your hair and dabbed a touch of make up on. Spritzing on some perfume and you began to feel worlds better. You were feeling considerably better after being comforted by Roman.

Going to the bar, you went and poured him a drink. You made yourself one as well. Lounging on the sofa, you were sipping on your drink when you heard the gentle purr of the Rolls.

You waited just long enough and then went over to welcome Roman home.

He looked as sharp as ever.

“Welcome home.” You said softly. “I’m sure you need this.” You handed him the glass of scotch as you looked him over.

“Thank you sweetheart.” A smiled played on his lips as his eyes moved over you. A sound of contentment came from him as he took a sip. He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close.

“Let’s get you more comfortable.”

As you poured him another scotch, you watched as he settled comfortably in his over stuffed chair. Placing the drink down beside him, you saw the splatter of blood across his face. He patted his lap. “One moment, Romy.” Going back to the bar you grabbed a glass filled it with seltzer and a soft cotton cloth.

Coming back over you happily took a seat in his lap. “Oh? Where’s you holster?”

He shrugged. “Downstairs, so Zsasz can clean it for another day.”

“Oh, good!” You smiled.

He rose an eyebrow, “Did I get something on my face?” His lips wrinkled in disgust.

You nodded. “May I?”

“Of course.” He rest a hand on your thigh as you sat and he closed his eyes.

It wasn’t long before the seltzer turned a rusty red, as you dipped and rubbed the cloth across the contours of his face. You eyed how his lashes on rested on his cheeks and how relax his lips sat, incredibly kissable, your stomach fluttered. At the moment, you resisted the urge to finish cleaning his face.

His eyes opened, the blue was a turbulent shade. “He’ll never bother you or anyone again.”

“Good.”

“Y/N...”

“Yes.”

He squeezed your thigh. “I hate that you had to go through that,” He grimaced. “You are strong. I am glad you got back here so I could then take care of you.”

“I’ll always come home to you.”

He smiled and the mood shifted in his eyes.

“You’re my hero.” You whispered and finally you couldn’t resist his mouth any further and you kissed him.

You winced, pulling back.

“Allow me?” His lips curled delightfully.

Confused, you nodded. “Of course.”

Gently he kissed you but his lips didn’t linger their and your hear sped up as his lips drifted till they met your jaw. “I will always protect my girl.” He whispered in your ear.

@darling-i-read-it @spn-obsessed-dean @vintagemichelle91 @xxxeatyourh3artoutxxx @ewanfuckingmcgregor @zodiyack @angel98624 @frenchgirlinlondon @emyliabernstein @thepeachreads @nebulastarr @itsknife2meetu @omghappilyuniquebouquetlove @poe-kadot26 @babydoll97 @hazel-nuss @vcat55 @feelthemadnessinside @johallzy @foreverhockeytrash @frostypenguinoz @starwarsslytherin @professionalclown @chogisss @shantellorraine @xxinvisiblexx @blondekel77 @saphic-stories @drarrylov3r @i-cant-hear-you16 @deadlymistress24 @yesqueenofthelight @generallj @thebeckyjolene

[tainted-wine]

Tuning In Tonight

Present Mic x Reader (NSFW)

(A 10k story because I have no self-control. Here’s a fic about a troubled cafe employee that turns into a Mic fan and later SEX)  

You soaked in the heat of your apartment after enduring the chilly walk back home from work. Wasting no time, you tossed your coat aside and kicked off your shoes before plopping onto the bed. Another week, another paycheck. Today was exceptionally busy at the cafe. Fridays always were, really, but today had put you to the test against quite the cast of characters. But even in the face of screaming kids with careless mothers, business people with absolutely no patience, and teens that didn’t think you were worth making eye contact with, you prevailed. You liked your job, even with the odd rough days. The staff was kind, the pay was fair, and the fact that it was smack-dab in the middle of the city means that it was visited by the occasional hero. Those were the days that filled you with joy, taking you back to the times when you dreamed of having the same career. But some things just weren’t meant to be. Your younger, more passionate self would chide you for accepting this life. For not using every breath in your body to ensure that you would one day become a hero that everyone remembered, but such persistence would only hurt you more in the long run. At least you were still able to find a comfortable living elsewhere. You settled with the cards you were dealt just fine, and yet that’s exactly what bothers you. Is it really okay to just give up and settle this after trying so hard? 'Nope, my mind’s not going anywhere near that rabbit hole today.' You sprang back up, heading to your room with extra pep in your step to undress and prepare a shower. The hot water soothed your tense body and cleared your mess of a mind. There was no room for any negative thoughts on a Friday night, the nights that you always look forward to the most, because it was time for the weekly radio show hosted by the lively pro hero Present Mic.

Your first experience with the show happened months ago, during a day where you were feeling extra exhausted for no particular reason. Turning on your old radio to lift your spirits, you happened to tune in just in time for the voice hero’s live caller segment. ‘Why not?’ you thought to yourself as you dialed the station's number and patiently listened to the rings. “Hey, thanks for calling, my dear listener! Hope you’ve been having a rockin’ day today!” There was something about having such an energetic and carefree voice directed to you that just brightened you up from inside. The conversation didn’t last very long, your sudden shyness being part of the reason why. It ended with you honoring the usual routine of requesting a song before disconnecting. As short as the encounter was, it left a strong impression, and you wanted it to happen again. Just like that, you became a loyal fan of Put Your Hands Up! radio. It was a great way to end work for the week, winding down and getting ready for the weekend as the station played a wide variety of tunes. And every time Mic was ready to take calls, your phone was ready to dial. You talked about whatever came to mind—how work was treating you, discussing his latest accomplishments as a pro hero, sharing silly events the two of you had in life. Whatever you discussed, no matter how mundane the topic, Mic always sounded eager to listen and respond with the boisterous voice he was known for. Even on the nights where you felt especially drained or under the weather, his unwavering enthusiasm never failed to clear the dark clouds over your head. In short, he was a lovable guy. So you relaxed and killed some time with the help of the internet and some phone games until that special hour arrived. You turned to the station and was greeted with the loud intro that took some getting used to. “Yeeeaaaahh! Present Mic here, and thank you for tuning in to Put Your Hands Up! Are they up? Because we’re about to get started!” And so begins the music that you swear is just a playlist of the hero’s personal favorites. You laid back on your bed and let your mind drift as the songs played. Your friends plan on meeting up for a movie tomorrow; can’t miss out on that. Maybe you’ll stop by the store afterwards so you can restock your fridge. What should you do Sunday? Meh, just make it a lazy day and hang around at home, you suppose. You returned to your phone and continued scrolling through your favorite websites. Time went by quicker than expected, Mic’s announcement of taking calls catching you by surprise. The first few calls were picked up by other listeners, doing the usual routine of sharing their day or talking about recent issues. Mic gave advice wherever he could, and his desire to help anyone who was willing to reach out to him felt so damn genuine that it made you smile. Another call was picked up before yours. Oh well. You listened to what ended up being a youthful male on the line. “H-hi, Mr. Present Mic!” The nervous yet excited voice was pretty heartwarming. A young teen, most likely.

Mic laughed. “No need for the ‘mister,’ listener! You’ll make me feel old!”

A bunch of frantic stuttering could be heard from the boy. “Ah, so sorry, sir—I mean mister—I mean Mic!” You giggled along with Mic as the poor boy tried to collect himself. “Deep breaths, little listener. What’s on that speedy little mind tonight?” “Well,” the boy had finally steadied himself. “I’ll be finishing middle school soon, and I’m ready to start training to be a hero. I just really hope I can get into U.A. and meet you! I wish you could be my English teacher!”

Awww. “Shucks, little guy. First, good job on finishing up middle school. I hope your parents have a rockin’ party ready for you! Second, you’ve got guts for aiming for the highest! Make sure you study and prepare, 'cause U.A. only accepts the best!” There was a pause on the other end. “So, is there a chance that I won’t make it?" “My little listener,” you could tell that there was a gentle expression on Mic’s face as he spoke. “There’s always a chance, so I want you to promise me one thing. If that chance hits you, don’t give up on your dream. Get the most out of whichever school accepts you. You know how many amazing heroes I met who came from schools with pretty lame reputations? There’s a lot of them, trust me. I’ve also met my share of cocky young heroes who rag on others just because they don’t have the fancy brand of U.A. or Shiketsu on their resume. That’s all it is, kid. A brand. Just because you couldn’t strike a deal with a major record label doesn’t mean your music career is already dead.” “Music?” the boy said in confusion. “But I’m not talking about mu—oh…metaphor.” Mic chuckled lightly. “There ya go, listener! Your language is doin’ fine. You don’t need me! But if you think you do, you know where to call me for another chat!” “I do!” the boy said happily. “Thank you, Present Mic! I promise I’ll keep doing my best!” You listened to the two talk for a little longer. The boy had some real determination and you admired it. He’ll hopefully reach his dream. You won’t wish ill will on others just because you didn’t reach yours. Giving everything you had and still not being enough was something no one deserved to experience. The boy had requested a rather angsty rock song that was trying really hard to sour your mood, but you’re not going to give the depressing vocalist what he wants. On the next segment, you internally rejoiced when you hear Mic’s voice in your ear. “Hey there, Mic.” “Oh? Is that my favorite lady listener I hear?” You giggled at the flattering question? “Maybe? I didn’t know you had favorites.” “Ah, you’re right! Not very professional of me! Don’t worry, listeners! I swear I love you all equally!” He boomed. It’s moments like this that taught you to keep your phone a fair distance away from your ear when you speak to the great voice hero himself. “So how’s the cafe treating you?” After so many talks, Mic had learned a few personal details about you, including your job and the area you worked in. He’s commented on how humble your life sounds; you didn’t disagree. “It’s been the same. Nothing new.” Your plan was to share one of your experiences with the more unruly customers today, but something else was weighing on your mind now. “Come on, girl. You’ve gotta have something spicy to share with us, don’t ya?” “Actually,” the last call was really sticking to you for some reason, you couldn’t help but let it slip out. “I want to say that what you told that boy was very sweet. And I was wondering…” Your voice caught in your throat. “I was wondering…” ‘Is it okay to give up?’ You didn’t want to say that. ‘What if you sacrifice everything you have, but still fail?’ You don’t tune in to be a downer. ‘Did you know that I was like that boy once?’ You talk to Present Mic to feel good. “Wondering what? You still with me, listener?” Mic asked. The concern in his voice urged you to spit something out already. “I was wondering exactly which pro heroes you knew personally. You said that you’ve met a lot,” you lied. You weren’t wondering that at all. Still, you won’t mind hearing his answer. “Ha! Where do I even start? Now’s the perfect time for some free promotion for the awesome heroes out there that deserve some sweet limelight! Let me start with a cool guy named Koi. He’s pretty new to the scene and works on the coast.” He went on and on about many lesser known heroes you weren’t familiar with at all, but that made the information all the more intriguing. He spoke highly of each person, listing their accomplishments and how hard they worked to get where they are. As always, he managed to perk you back up. You made a mental note to look up these heroes later. “Whoa whoa, record scratch, guys! The lady’s got me rambling for way too long. Trying to soak up all the time, are ya?” He sneered in the most light-hearted way. You laughed innocently. “Of course not! You were being so passionate about every hero that you mentioned, I didn’t have it in me to stop you.” “Well, I’ll forgive you just this once! You know how to end it. Hit me with that request!” The rest of the broadcast carried on through the night as a drowsiness began to creep on you. You listened to the last of the songs while getting cozy under your sheets. “Time to finally put those hands down! It’s been a blast, listeners! I hope you’re ready to rock with me next time! Good night!” You switched off the radio and finally allowed yourself to drift off. ‘Good night.’ ——— The weekend had flown by. Before you knew it, it was back to business at the cafe. You were always thankful for not being part of the morning shift on Mondays, your co-workers sharing horror stories of the tired and moody zombies demanding complicated orders as quickly as possible. Your shift started at noon. The day was going by smoothly, no wrenches thrown into your usual pattern. Small talk with the customers, impressing the regulars by guessing their orders correctly, practicing your latte art, it was a meditative cycle for you. By the time the sun was down with no recent customers, you were ready to start cleaning up. The place closes in less than twenty minutes and the rest of the staff was sitting around patiently. A ring at the door alerted you all to the sight of a man briskly walking in, gripping at his overcoat as he recovered from the cold outdoors. “Welcome sir,” you greeted while heading to your position behind the counter. The other workers gave their own welcome and followed suit. “Hey!” He said loudly. “Didn’t mean to barge in like that. It’s cold enough tonight without all of this wind.” The voice made you pause. The man approaching you had blonde hair pinned up into a messy bun, some stray locks hanging freely. He adjusted his glasses as he flashed you a smile. That voice…and paired with his appearance…there was no doubt about it. 'Present Mic?' “Heh, looks like I’ve been exposed already!” Mic said with a chuckle. You placed a hand over your mouth, not realizing you had said his name out loud. “Sorry, it’s just really nice to meet you in person. I’m a fan.” You thought you saw him pause as well, eyes widening for a brief moment before asking, “Are you, now? And have we talked before, dear fan?” His voice was calmer than what you were used to hearing on his show. “We have, on the radio. Quite a few times, actually,” you admitted. And with that, his smile was enhanced to blinding levels. “My favorite lady listener! I thought I recognized that sweet voice!” Mic didn’t seem to respond to your blush and kept going. “I remember you said that you worked around here, but I sure didn’t expect to bump into you!” “Well, fate’s treating us both well tonight. I can’t properly express how excited I am to meet you while on the job. What can I get you tonight?” You hid behind your professionalism and waited for his order. Mic rubbed at his chin and pondered. “Well, I’ve been convinced by word-of-mouth that you guys have some yummy pastries. What do you think will go well with some hot cocoa?” Fortunately, the cafe’s menu was practically branded into your mind, so even the presence of a pro hero isn’t enough to make you draw a blank. “I’d personally recommend one of our warm treats. Maybe you’d like to try our filled croissants? The strawberry one is my favorite.” “Mmm, sounds delish. I trust you,” His grins were seriously trying to make you melt. “Hit me up with a cocoa and a strawberry croissant for here!” After taking his order, Mic seated himself at a table to wait for his sugary meal. As you prepared his chocolate and croissant, you couldn’t resist stealing an occasional glance at him. He was studying the cute decorations that littered the place and gently bobbing his head to the indie music playing through the speakers, but the two of you happened to lock eyes once, forcing you to immediately look away. Whenever you saw him in the media, his eyes were usually obscured by the orange shades that went with his hero outfit. Now you realize just how green they are, almost as if they glowed. It didn’t take long to prepare his order, and you decided to grant him the special treatment of delivering the food to his table. There was no one else to serve, after all. “Hey,” he said. “Would you mind sitting down with me?” Your heart fluttered. “Not at all, Mic.” You pulled back the chair opposite to him and took a seat. “Call me Hizashi.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Present Mic is always too busy for a snack break.”   “Of course, Hizashi.” You listened to Hizashi’s compliments on the food and drink, trying not to stare as he ate. You were always so sure that he couldn’t possibly be as loud and lively as his hero persona, and you were mostly right, but even now as he dined at a simple cafe, he still somehow radiated a cheerful and positive energy. The warm feeling you got from hearing him on the radio was dwarfed by what you currently feel now that you are seeing him in person. He had eaten the last of the flaky bread before speaking again. “You know, now that you’re right here in the flesh, I gotta ask you something that’s been bothering me since my last show.” Lime green eyes peered into yours as he idly stirred the cup of chocolate. “Were you alright that night? You sounded…conflicted when we were talking.” A lump caught in your throat. You didn’t expect something like that to stick with him. Surely he had more important matters to worry about. “Don’t worry about it,” you answered. “I just had silly things crossing my mind at the moment.” Hizashi took a sip, his eyes not leaving you. “Alright, I don’t wanna pry. I know you’re a grown woman, but I do like helping people. It’s my favorite part of all three of my jobs.” His smile never faded since he walked in here and man, you weren’t used to him looking or sounding so soft. You sat there silently, fighting internally as you tried to decide whether or not to confess. The pro hero waited, drinking and showing no signs of impatience. Your hands gripped at your apron as you took a breath. “I wanted to be a hero.” The only sort of reaction you noticed were his raising eyebrows. “Ah,” he murmured. “Do you still want to be a hero?” A beat of silence. “…No.” Hizashi watched, probably waiting for you to say more, but you still didn’t know how much you wanted to share. “Does that bother you?” He asked. You nodded. “I’d like to hear why, listener.” Hearing the term you were so used to on his show lifted some of the pressure. Ironically, he was probably the best listener out of anyone that tuned in. You straightened your posture and swallowed. “Then I should probably start from the beginning.” And so you let it all spill. How you once had the same glorious dream as so many other children. You explained all of the time and effort you put into the tests and exams, but it was never enough, and your quirk always failed to impress spectators. You had family and friends that supported you for so long, had sacrificed so much to make this happen, but when you realized that your pursuit was leading you to homelessness, you accepted defeat. Hizashi paid close attention, only making a small comment here and there, but he waited for you to finish to say anything more. “I’m sorry you couldn’t get there,” he said sympathetically. “It’s fine.” You were looking down at your lap, unable to hold his gaze throughout most of the story. “I recovered pretty well. It’s nice here.” He hummed and leaned back in his seat. “That’s good! Not everyone can bounce back from that. Sounds like it’s still bothering you, though. Are you sure you don’t want to try again? I’m more than happy to help you out.” You shook your head at the generous offer. This man was too kind. “Thanks, but that’s alright. I’m happy where I am, it’s just that…” You paused as you tried to form the frustration you’ve felt for years into words. “I had put my whole life into this, gave up everything I had, and…and I don’t have anything to show for it, you know? Feels like the biggest waste.” “Yeah, maybe it was.” His blunt admittance surprised you. “But when you realized you weren’t getting anywhere, you stopped before you hit rock bottom. I know some students of mine who wouldn’t have that self-control.” He gave a soft snort at the thought. “Hell, when everyday is such a painful climb, you forget if there’s even anything waiting for you at the top. Maybe you would’ve reached the peak just to finally keel over.”  You nodded along with his feedback. It wasn’t anything new; you’ve comforted yourself with similar words, albeit with less metaphors. And yet, your pesky mind couldn’t accept such logic. “But people don’t like quitters.” Hizashi kept going, arms crossed and staring intensely at his empty plate. “Because quitting apparently means that you’re weak, not that you were smart enough to see that you’re just hurting yourself at a certain point. Man, you know how many people wouldn’t be stuck doing stuff that they hate if this mindset didn’t exist? I know a guy who finally won the heart of the heroine of his dreams, and I was like, ‘Awesome, dude!’” You watched with mild amusement as Hizashi’s volume was slowly rising along with his increasingly animated movements. “But surprise! Turns out that she makes for the world’s worst girlfriend! The poor guy is in his own little hell, but he’s wanted this gal for soooo long and he’s still soooo sure that they’re fated to be together. If I used my quirk to scream at the guy to break it off already, he’d still manage to ignore me!” A snicker nearby caught both of your attentions, turning to see the other staff members looking very entertained by his storytelling. Hizashi coughed out of awkwardness and shuffled in his seat. “You, uh, you get what I’m saying?” His voice returned to a calm tone. “Yeah, I get it,” You replied. “I never considered all of that. Sucks for your friend, but I understand the feeling. It must be frustrating to watch from the outside, too.” “Oh yeah, it is.” He sighed and rested his face in one of his hands. “I know they say that you can’t save people that don’t want to be saved, but it’s not gonna keep me from trying. Good to know that you climbed out of that hole yourself. Well, almost.” He finished off the now-lukewarm chocolate. “Your dream died, so handle it like any other death. Mourn and move on. Dwelling on it or thinking about everything you could have done differently is irrational.” You heard him mutter something under his breath, something about someone rubbing off on him too much. The gears turn in your head. Your eyes wonder to a small stain on the table as Hizashi’s advice breaks through your somber barrier. Mourn and move on.

“I’ll try,” You’re shocked by how dry your throat suddenly is. The sound of sweeping and chairs scraping across the floor makes you snap your head to the clock. It was past closing time! “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!” You didn’t even know if you were apologizing to Hizashi or your co-workers. “I lost track of time! Let me get that for you.” You took his trash before he could respond and quickly joined the others to clean up. “Sorry about that,” one of your friends said. “I guess we all got caught up in your cute little talk.” “Do you have to eavesdrop on every table in this place?” You asked with no real malice. Pretty much the whole staff has a fondness for gossip; perhaps it was just a side effect of working such a job. “Oh, you know me. Why do you even ask?” she laughed. You focused on cleaning the tables as Hizashi stood and straightened out his clothes. You hoped that he wouldn’t leave just yet. His pep talk was appreciated and you wanted to thank him properly before your bus got here. Your bus that was scheduled to arrive ten minutes ago. 'Oh shit!' “My bus! I have to—dammit! I gotta go!” You dashed into the back to gather your belongings and grab your bag. Hizashi and the others looked too stunned by your burst of speed as you exited the cafe and rushed to the bus stop, the biting cold having little effect on your adrenaline-filled body. 'Maybe the bus is late too. Maybe I can still make it.' Your sprint slowed down the moment you saw your ride home already speeding away. It was too late to catch up. You could only watch as the large vehicle drove out of sight, dropping onto the stop’s bench as you caught your breath. Wonderful. This is what you get for getting too comfortable with one of your customers, hero or not. “Hey!” Speak of the devil. You turned to the sight of Hizashi jogging around the corner and toward you. “Man, you move pretty fast.” He caught up to you and took in your tired and defeated form. “And by the looks of it, you still weren’t fast enough.” A loud groan escaped you. “It’s no big deal, really. Another one arrives in about thirty minutes.” “Ah, think you can wait that long in this cold?” A shiver ran through your body immediately after his question. Wow, it really was freezing tonight. You shrugged your shaking shoulders. “I’ll have to. It’s still better than walking.” “Or maybe I can take you home?” Your head snaps back to him. Did you hear that right? “You…you want to take me home?” You repeated. That radiant smile returns to his face and adds another wave of trembles to your body. “I help where I can, and I’m kinda the reason you missed it in the first place. It’s the least I can do for such a loyal listener.” You hesitate, your still-harsh breaths forming misty clouds. You trusted him, no doubt about that. No, what was making you hesitate were his tender expressions that were illuminated by the nearby streetlight, and his lax and inviting posture as he waited for your answer with his hands tucked in his coat, and the realization that Yamada Hizashi was pretty damn handsome.   Pure hot red was rushing up to your face. Surely that was the cold’s fault. “That sounds great,” you uttered before you could even stop yourself. “Alright! Come on, then. I’m totally not dressed to be standing out here for long.” You followed him back to the cafe where an old-fashioned Ford mustang was parked. ‘Classy.'  Your co-workers were watching you enter his car, some with smirks or giving you a thumbs-up. ‘Perverts. It’s not like that.’ At least, you didn’t think it was. The drive home was calming. The radio played lowly as background music while you gave him directions to your apartment. You kept sneaking a peek at him from the corner of your vision, a peaceful look on his face as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel to the beat of the music. He seemed to be the type that hated complete silence; you didn’t mind. The streets were fairly empty, so it didn’t take too long to reach your complex. Hizashi pulled up and parked. “Welp, here’s your stop!” He announced as he hit you with another knockout smile. “Thanks for taking the Present Mic Express, listener.” You removed your seat belt, but made no further movements. “Thank you, Hizashi. For the ride…and the talk. You’ve helped me a lot today.” You say as you dare to look into his hypnotizing irises. He shrugged at your gratitude. “I’m just a customer who was in need of a nighttime snack and met a special gal that turned out to be even greater in person.” It took everything in your power not to cover your face like a flustered schoolgirl, instead breaking eye contact as you felt the heat return to your cheeks. “Thanks, you’re pretty great too.” You shuffled a bit as you both sat in silence. “I’m leaving now.”

“Okay.” You stayed where you were, staring at the door handle like it was the last thing you might ever touch. “I can’t wait to talk to you again on your show.” “Ditto.” “Alright…I’m leaving now.” “You already said that.” You squirmed some more. ‘Come on, you probably just look creepy at this point. Hurry the hell up and say something.’ “Is there something else you wanna tell me?” There was a small hint of amusement in his voice, and you gathered the courage to look at him again, shocked to see that his friendly smile had shifted into something a little more smug. It was probably safe to say that he’s reading the atmosphere pretty well. ‘Then just go for it.’

“Do you…do you want to come inside me—” FUCK. “Come inside with me! Do you want to come inside with me?!”  You were practically shouting the invitation in a feeble attempt to hide your slip-up. Hizashi threw his head back and cackled. “I’d love to, sweetheart! No need to be shy about it. I don’t bite.” You still sat there as the car turned off, his casual acceptance putting you into a stupor. Which version of the question was he even saying yes to? Whichever one it was, he had just accepted your offer to sleep together. You hadn’t been with anyone in years, and now you suddenly do this? A rush of cold wind hit you when he opened his door. “Come on, unless you planned on doing it in the car?” He laughed when you furiously shook your head.  “Good. As much as I love my old girl, she’s probably not very comfortable for something like that.” You only shivered in response as you finally stepped out of his car and joined his side to guide him to your place. All it took was an elevator and a quick walk down the hall to reach your door. It was a little embarrassing to bring a pro hero into your small single-bedroom apartment. It had all of the essentials for a comfortable living, but there wasn’t much room for luxuries. You both kicked off your shoes at the entrance before you hurried to organize some stray clothes and bags. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests.” “No worries,” Hizashi didn’t seem to mind as he got comfortable on a chair near your kitchen area and scanned the place. “This is nice.” You snorted at the comment. “I suppose,” you murmured. “It’s nothing worth praising.” “What, finding a place to stay after running yourself down for years? I think that deserves some praise,” he says so matter-of-factually.  That was a really admirable way to put it. “Thank you.” “Mmhmm,” he hummed, watching you finish replacing your things. Now you’re just standing here, not sure what to do next. How do you even start this? Your only experience was a clumsy one with a friend way back. “Well, we can’t do much at this distance, can we?” He says lightly as he gestures you to come closer. You comply and take his offered hand, letting him gently tug you down and onto his lap. He positioned you sideways, your legs laid out over his and making you look and feel like a nervous child. His face was so close, those green eyes looking shinier than ever. “You’ve done this before, right?” His warm breath brushes against your face as he speaks. “Yeah, I have,” you paused and wondered if you should tell him more. Hizashi was getting to know you more than you ever intended. “With a friend some years ago…it was a mess. Two virgins that had no idea what they were doing.” You laughed at the memory. “Heh, I feel you on that one. My first wasn’t the most dignified moment either.” You felt his body shake with his chuckle. His hand was still holding yours, thumb pressing against the space between your knuckles in a sort of massage. The feeling soothed you as his free hand came up to remove his glasses, your body shifting with his as he set them down close by. “In fact, your boy used to be a one pump wonder!” He smiled at your bewildered reaction to the information. “Hey, it’s not my fault sex feels so awesome!” You giggled into his shoulder. He spoke to you with such familiarity that it was impossible to stay anxious. It was why you enjoyed talking to him on the radio, but you never imagined it being the same during a scenario as intimate as this. “Hey, Don’t laugh at me! I’ve gotten better!” He said in mock anger. “And lucky for you, you get to see just how much. Welcome to my private show, listener.” He wiggled his eyebrows in a way that was more comical than seductive. A hand gently held the back of your head, and you let it pull you in to press your lips against his. You closed your eyes and savored the feeling, his lips softer than expected. Your kisses were timid, giving little more than lingering pecks, and Hizashi patiently returned them, slowly adding more pressure and passion as encouragement. The feel of a tongue swiping against your lips made you squeak in shock, getting a chuckle out of him. “That was adorable,” he teased, his voice suddenly at a lower pitch that made you shudder. “You startled me,” you retorted before returning to the kiss, this time with your lips parted to grant him entry. He caught you off guard again by sucking lightly at your lips instead, forcing a gasp out of you before slipping his tongue into your mouth. Your own muscle shyly met his, stroking each other in a lazy dance. His hands moved to hold your face and he’s doing it so tenderly. A hot desire is flowing through your veins from his kisses alone; you can only imagine what else he has in store for you. After a few more wet smacks, the two of you finally parted to catch your breaths, you especially. “Wow,” you couldn’t help but gasp. Hizashi gave a breathless laugh. “Getting overwhelmed already? We haven’t even taken any clothes off yet.” He wasn’t as composed as he let on, a red flush spreading across his face. The hands holding your face moved down to wrap around your waist as he moved his kisses down to your jaw. You sighed and tilted your head back to give him access to your neck, burying your fingers in his hair as you felt him lick and suck at your pulse. Beneath the smooth locks you felt a pin that held his sloppy bun together. “Hizashi? Can I-ah,” a hard suck on your sensitive throat forces you to pause. “Can I…your hair?” You tapped at the pin to get your point across. “Go ahead,” he groaned against your neck, not even slowing his assault as you pulled the small clip out and watched his golden locks fall to his shoulders. He purred to the feeling of you combing through his hair like fine threads. “It’s really pretty,” you whispered, still shivering from the love that he was showering on your skin. He pulls away from your neck. “Are you saying my hair isn’t always pretty? Trying to hurt Mic’s feelings?” He said with a pout. He looked all the hotter with his long hair draping the sides of his face. “Not at all! I think Mic makes for a handsome cockatoo,” you jest with a smirk. “Heh, you got jokes, huh? We’ll see who’s laughing once I get these annoying clothes out of the way.” He double tapped your thigh. “Up.” You stood up and watched him follow instantly, noticing the bulge that was beginning to grow beneath his pants. You quickly tore your eyes away from it. “Hold on a minute, I know what we’re missing.” He reached into his coat pocket and retrieved his phone. You waited, wondering what he could possibly need on his phone right now. A few taps later, a smooth melody began playing from the device. “Oh yeah, I’m feelin’ it already.” He set the phone down and shut his eyes, getting a feel for the beat of the sensual R&B song. This man was unreal. “You have…a lovemaking playlist?” You uttered while watching him get into a groove. “I’ve got a playlist for a lot of things, baby. Nothing sets the mood like a good tune. Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll go first.” And so he began his slow movements, swaying and bouncing in rhythm to the music, pulling his coat back and shrugging it off in a steady and seductive manner, tossing it aside. Watching a personal strip show of one of your favorite heroes was both hilarious and hot. On one hand, he was giving you playful and goofy faces while lip-singing to the sensual vocals. On the other, ‘I’ll be damned,’ you thought, because he really did know how to move his body and was successfully captivating you. His hips were moving in slow circles as he grabbed the bottom of his shirt, lifting it up and revealing his impressively lean torso. ‘Oh, his hero outfit doesn’t do his body justice.’ You were so impressed by the chest and the abs that were just thick enough to be visible, you didn’t notice him struggling to pull the shirt off of his head. With his top completely bare, he smoothed a hand down his hair and leered at you with a slow lick over his lip. “Liking what you see, baby?” How the hell did his voice get so deep? Why was he being so sexy right now? Your throat was dry all of a sudden, so you simply nodded. “Good.” His hands ran over his chest, making sure you were watching them before they began an agonizingly slow descent, tracing over hard lines, his muscles rippling with the mesmerizing thrust of his hips, a sight so erotic that you wanted to look away, but just couldn’t. With the buttons and zipper quickly undone, his thumbs hooked beneath his pants and began to pull down and oh shit he was pulling at his boxers too. You were really about to see it and you didn’t know if you were ready, but your eyes remained glued to his waist as his masculine v-line and a neat trail of blonde curls was revealed, your breathing getting heavier with the knowledge that he was only centimeters away from revealing his… “Naaaah, I’ll leave these on for now.” Just like that, his voice returned to his loud and cheerful pitch, pants readjusted and no longer on the brink of revealing his manhood. Confused, you look back up to see an infuriatingly innocent face staring back at you. A pang of disappointment hits you hard; Hizashi had just teased you big time. “Your turn.” You stood there awkwardly, having no idea where to even start. “I…uh…” You try to get into rhythm with the song and already feel like a fool. “I’m not much of a dancer. Can I just undress?” You felt a little bad. You didn’t want to kill the mood just because you didn’t know how to be as light and silly as him. Hizashi casually approached in all of his topless glory. “Don’t stress, girl. The stage and spotlight ain’t for everyone,” he empathized. Slender fingers took hold of the bottom of your shirt, and he looked into your eyes for silent permission. You gave a slow nod of approval and lifted your arms so that he could smoothly remove your first article of clothing. He discarded the shirt quickly to lay his hands on your bare waist, tracing over your soft and sensitive skin, making you jump slightly. “That tickles,” you snickered. “Sorry, sorry.” His hands went higher until they reached your bra, fumbling with the clasp at your back. “Mind helping me out? I still haven’t mastered these contraptions,” he asked through gritted teeth. The fully concentrated face for removing an undergarment was a real hoot, but you showed mercy and joined his hands to undo the fastening and pulled the straps down your arms. With how hard he was staring at your exposed breasts, it took everything in your power not to cover yourself, keeping your arms at your sides. “Damn. You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He spoke softly, giving feather-light touches over the mounds of flesh. “Can’t believe you’re giving me the honor of seeing you like this.” You warmed over at the praise and his touch, a thumb brushing lightly over your nipple. “You…look really good too,” you complimented back, your own hands coming up as you considered exploring his body. Hizashi noticed your hesitation and took a hold of your wrists. “You can check me out with more than your eyes, babe,” he says with a wink, and then places your hands right onto his hot and hard chest. ‘Woah.’ You swear that your heart stopped for several seconds. Hands slightly trembling, you run them slowly over his firm pecs, listening to his quickening breaths as you went lower to feel his abs. Present Mic was never really on your list of sexy heroes. You never bothered to imagined what the rowdy guy looked like underneath that superstar getup. ‘Shame on me, I suppose.’ The hero quietly reveled in your touch as he returned to your breasts, kneading them gently to bring out soft moans from you. There was something extra close and affectionate about just feeling each other, hands caressing and pressing every inch of both of your bodies. Your first time wasn’t this slow and steady; you and your partner were too embarrassed by so much clumsy fumbling that you ended up rushing to the main act. An arm wrapped around you and pulled you closer, a pair of lips speaking right next to your ear. “To the bed.” The song currently playing had a much more raunchy vibe to it, matching the growing intensity of the room as Hizashi gently pushed you back onto the mattress so that he could peer down and take in your body from above. You felt even more vulnerable in this position, but the man’s gaze, although lustful, was still gentle and nothing to be afraid of. You had enough courage to take his face and bring him down for another kiss, lips moving more boldly this time. Hizashi smiled behind the kiss, but had other plans and trailed downward, picking up where he left off during the first make-out. He licked a wet trail across your neck, wasting no time in reaching your breasts and peppering one with kisses, the slightly ticklish sensation filling you with pleasurable tingles. Too modest to watch him shower your body with love, you instead closed your eyes and focused on the feeling as the naughty music played on. The wetness of a tongue was flicking across your nipple, making your breath hitch, but it was the complete engulfment of wet heat that made your eyes fly open to the sight of him hungrily sucking at you like he was being nursed. You could still feel his tongue swirling around your nipple in the wet cavern of his mouth. It felt so good, bringing forth an ache within your lower body. “Ah, Hizashi…more…” Your plea came out as a shuddering moan. “Patience, babe,” he panted before switching to your other breast and giving it the same delicious treatment. Soon he continued his trek downwards, kissing at your stomach and playfully dipping his tongue into your navel. “Alright, time for these pants to go.” You lifted your hips to help him pull them off, nervous but so desperate to feel him touch you more. Surprisingly, he left your panties on and placed his lips right on your hipbone, making you twitch. The kisses wandered to your thighs, taking his time in enjoying the texture of your flesh as he licked, sucked, and gave the occasional nip to make you jump. You can feel the hot desire in your core building up as he got closer to your mound, your insides throbbing in anticipation, ready to be probed and explored already. Finally his face was right at your clothed pussy, a sinful grin forming as he observed the very damp spot. You were ready for him to finally remove the last barrier that prevented your bodies from joining. What you weren’t ready for was the shock of his tongue pressing against the thin cotton and licking at you like it wasn’t even there. Even with the shaky gasp that escaped you, you felt mortified. “H-Hizashi? What are—that’s—ohhh.” His lips managed to close right around your protected clit, the feeling muted but still powerful, but this was all so new to you. It’s one thing to fantasize having someone put their mouth there, but to actually…! Hizashi halted his ministrations and looked up at you. “What is it? Did I do something wrong?” The panic in your breathless voice probably worried him a bit. You didn’t want him to think that he screwed up, it’s just that…ugh, you didn’t even know! “I, uh, you don’t have to do that, really,” you stammered. The pure confusion on his face was unexpected. “What? Go down on you? I love doin’ that, babe. You don’t?”

You were tempted to grab a pillow and hide your face. “I…don’t know. No one’s ever done that to me.” “Oh?”  He tilted his head, resting on one of your thighs as he watched you curiously. “Well this guy would love to do it to you. May I?” ‘Yes. Yes, please do it.’ You just couldn’t be as shameless as your inner thoughts, so the most you could do was squeak, “If you want.” Hizashi rubbed soothing circles around your inner thighs. “I’ll just give you a sample, alright? You just lie back and feel it. Actually…” He raised himself and took a hold of your hips, tugging you to the edge of the bed. He was now kneeling on the floor with your legs hanging over his shoulders. Even with your panties still on, you never felt more exposed. His mouth was back on you in an instant, licking long stripes up your covered womanhood. You could feel your heated lust, could feel your juices seeping out to mix with the saliva that was coating your ravaged underwear. But it didn’t look like Hizashi planned on letting up on his assault anytime soon, pressing his face against you as if he was craving your nectar from the source, but insisted on holding himself back. As you whimpered from the wet grazes and your growing arousal, you realized that this just wasn’t going to be enough. “Please,” you whined. “I need more.” “More?” The hero’s voice was husky, and the wicked look he was giving you wasn’t helping matters at all. “What do you want more of?” Your knuckles were turning white from how hard you were clutching the sheets beneath you. “You! Your mouth! Please, take them off!” “You like what my mouth does, baby?” He gave you a quick lick. “Yes.” “You wanna feel more of it?” “Yes, please!” You begged. “Wanna feel my tongue push inside your pussy?” The sudden vulgarity of his words made you clench. “Y-yes.” A finger runs up and down your slit, the cloth’s texture doing nothing but irritating you at this point. “Good, because your taste and smell is driving me wild.” His fingers hooked around the lace and, thank the gods above, finally pulled them off, sticky strands of your arousal being pulled along with it. Repositioning himself, he used his thumbs to spread you open and take a good look at you. ‘Oh God, that’s a bit much.’  You shut your eyes to avoid his invasive ones that were looking straight inside of you. Just before he dove in, a new track began to play. “Oooooh shit, I love this song!” You looked to see Hizashi on the verge of jumping up in excitement. After being so turned on, you managed to forget that he’s a dork. “They’re just asking me to go all-out on you, aren’t they? Get ready, sweetheart. I’m about to send you to heaven.” Your breathing quickened as he leaned in, suddenly understanding that his teasing was just to make you extra sensitive to the real deal, because his breath alone was sending pleasant shocks through you. The first long lick up your sex already had you moaning loudly. A pair of hands held your hips down to prevent you from bucking too wildly, thighs quivering on his shoulders as he hungrily lapped at you. Among the indecent sounds between your legs, you also noticed the song’s lyrics were describing the very act Hizashi was performing right now, his mouth working more vigorously whenever the singer expressed the desire to lick a girl, to make her cum all week. He was avoiding your clit, giving full attention to your sopping folds, sucking on them loudly before deciding to plunge his tongue straight inside of your pussy. The intruding muscle had you squirming against his hold, rubbing against your walls and pushing into you as far as possible. You noticed that Hizashi’s eyes were closed in bliss, giving soft moans as if this was bringing him just as much pleasure. Whatever the case, the sight of him enjoying himself so much was something you’ll be seeing in your erotic dreams for weeks, maybe months to come. You lost control of the sounds leaving your body as the pleasing heat grew, tongue thrusting in and out of your body, his nose pressing against your neglected clit. The thorough tongue-fucking was bringing you so close to the edge. Hizashi released a long and deep moan and…you don’t even understand what happened next. The sound sent the mother of all vibrations bouncing throughout your insides, forcing you into a violent convulsion of an orgasm. You didn’t hear your own scream, the music, or see Hizashi’s amazed expression when you tightened your legs around his head in a vice-like grip. Everything was suddenly muted save for the tremors wracking your entire being without mercy, pleasure pouring over you so strongly that it was frightening. Your surroundings slowly took shape again as you came down from your high, panting and waiting for your limbs to become responsive again. A hand brushed stray hairs away from your face, and you saw a very pleased hero laying beside you. “You alright, baby? You know where you are?” He asked jokingly. “Yeah,” you breathed. “How many fingers am I holding up?” “Shut up.” You swung your weak arm and smacked him in the chest. “What the hell did you do to me?” “Sometimes I use my quirk to add a little kick,” he explained while rolling onto his side, giving your damp face a quick peck. “All it takes is a bass boost to soak the dancefloor, am I right? Though maybe that was too much. I didn’t know whether to be turned on or scared with the way you were spazzing out. Hope your neighbors didn’t think you were being murdered.” You shrunk into yourself. “Oh. Sorry,” you mumbled. You watched his hand casually explore your sensitive skin, catching a glimpse of the bulge in his pants that was more prominent than ever. “Your…” You gestured to his groin. He looked down at his stiff predicament and huffed. “Ah, yeah. It’s kinda been killin’ me. You good to keep going, babe?” How could you possibly say no after the ride he’s given you? “Yes, of course.” You moved to get up, but he gently pushes down on you. “Stay right here. I just need a minute.” The bed shifts with the loss of his weight and you watch him grab his discarded coat, fishing for something in its pockets and mumbling about something that he always keeps around, until you hear a little “a-ha” as he triumphantly holds up a condom. “Safety first~,” he says in a sing-song voice. Wow, he’s a prepared guy. Disobeying his orders, you raised yourself to sit upright. “Can I do the honors?” You asked. Honestly, you were just curious to see what he had in store for you down there. Hizashi looked surprised but pleased. “Be my guest!” he said excitedly, removing the wrapper while approaching you. The tent in his pants just sat there in front of you, begging to finally be released. “So, do you want me to finish my little show, or do you want to be the one to take’em off?” He watched your face intently as he thumbed at the band of his pants. You gulped loudly. He clearly wanted this night to be all about you, but he deserved some attention. “I’ll do it.” You whispered, taking a delicate hold of his pants to pull them down and revealing an intricately designed pair of boxers. Colorful urban-style shapes and characters covered the underwear, art that you would expect to see on the city’s walls. Any other time, you would take a moment to appreciate the impressive work, but you had a horny man to take care of. With a shaky tug, his final clothing was removed and the freed erection sprang out and smacked you in the face. The horrified ‘eep!’ and the utterly offended look you were giving his cock had Hizashi cracking up. “Shit, I’m sorry, babe!” He choked between breaths. “I guess I should have given you a heads up!” You were too embarrassed to even respond or look him in the eye. “Hey now, I promise he won’t hurt you again.” He gave you a pat on a head like a grumpy child and held out the condom to you. You silently took it and observed his manhood with a cautious look, as if it would somehow lash out and strike you again. He was pretty long; while his girth didn’t look too intimidating, you doubt that he can fit all of his length into you. It twitched when your fingers wrapped around it, rubbing up and down the soft yet firm organ and earning some sharp breaths from Hizashi. You finally attempted working with the music, stroking to match the same slow tempo. You took the lubricated protection and placed it over his swollen head, your other hand keeping up your rhythmic pumping as you pulled it down, stroking every uncovered inch until he was fully sheathed. “Fuck, girl. That was sexy,” Hizashi had watched your performance with lustful wonder. “You really don’t give yourself enough credit.” The praise excited you in more ways than one. His hands were on your shoulders and pushing you back down with him climbing on top, returning you both to your earlier positions. One hand reached between your legs and slipped a finger between your folds, dipping inside to sample your wetness. “Are you ready for me, baby?” His voice returned to that low raspy tone that had you throbbing for him all over again. Your nodding was so frantic that you made him laugh at your eagerness—your want has overpowered your doubts. He takes hold of himself and places the tip right at your entrance, your heart racing in anticipation to be filled. A sudden kiss distracts you. It was the deepest kiss he’s given you, lips practically holding yours prisoner while his tongue curled around yours. Breathy moans left both of your mouths. You were being effectively distracted until you felt the sharp burn of being stretched, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck while he pushed inside as slowly as he could. He drank up your whimpers and you consumed his growls of restraint. Every inch felt like it went on forever, hot and pulsing and overwhelming, yet your greedy pussy clamped down and sucked him in until you were completely filled. Hizashi stayed there, finally detaching his lips so that he could study your face. Those green eyes that enchanted you at the cafe for their warmth and kindness were now glazed over with something raw and insatiable. Such a look made you tighten around him, savoring the groan he gave in response. Your legs wrapped around his waist as the signal to start moving, and he complied with a slow and shallow pace. The friction was already creating another burning knot in your core. The other time someone was inside you like this…there was pleasure then as well, but it was nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to a partner who knew how to properly prepare your body and keep your mind at ease. Hizashi’s hair was draped all around you, creating a romantic enclosure of just him and you, everything else in the room feeling so far away. His thrusts were getting stronger, your heat and tightness making it too difficult for him to keep things slow. You didn’t protest and took every electrifying stroke with a helpless cry. Even with all of the sounds you were making, you dare say that the man above you was being even louder. “Ah…fuck…oh, baby you feel so fucking good. Oh yeah, fucking squeeze me just like that,” his language also became a lot more colorful, apparently. Concerning volume aside, his words only added to your pleasure. Your heels dug into him, pushing him deeper inside and brushing against that spongy bundle of nerves that had you writhing. “Shit, thanks sweetheart. Been lookin’ for that spot.” He pants with a mischievous smile across his sweaty face. With a particularly hard slam that makes you see white, he slows down and starts a deep grind. “Ah! Hizashi!” You weren’t prepared for such powerful stimulation, his dick hitting your sweet spot while his pelvis rolls against your clit. He elevates himself for a better angle, forcing you to disentangle from his neck and instead fumble desperately at his arms. The hot tension was tightening at an alarming rate with the pleasure he was giving to both of your most sensitive spots. Your gaze constantly switched between Hizashi biting his lip in a sexy focused expression to his contracting muscles as his hips press and rub against every inch of your cunt. Your nerves could only handle the sensual onslaught for so long—it didn’t take long before they were all set ablaze and reduced you into a trembling mess with your back arched and mouth hanging open in a silent scream. Sure, it wasn’t a heart-stopping climax like the one he gave you with his mouth, but the simultaneous spasms of your clit and innermost walls was its own amazing experience that had you melting into a blissful puddle. “Mmm, that’s it. That’s a good girl,” Hizashi groaned in approval. Your orgasm was still rippling through you when he buried his face into the crook of your neck and returned to his rutting, now at a much faster pace. Tears pricked at your eyes from the overstimulation. Your own choked sobs were smothered by the most intense moans you’ve ever heard sounding right in your ear. “You’re so amazing, baby…so damn beautiful.” How the fuck did he sound so sweet even when he’s on the verge of nutting? This hero has given you more than he even realized. He’s given you his company and joy every Friday, he’s given you kind words at your job, and now here he was giving all of himself to you. The emotions, the hypersensitivity, the closeness, it was all too much for you.

You came a third time, the sensation toeing the line between pain and pleasure as you clung to him tightly. He gave several more thrusts before reaching his own peak with a howl that might encourage a file complaint or two. You just held him, feeling every shiver run down his limbs and every shaky breath expelled from his powerful lungs. Both of you rested in each other’s embrace. If only things could just stay this way; Hizashi never failed to make you feel so good, in more ways than you even dreamed of. “Woah woah, you alright?” Said man’s panicked voice startled you. Before you could ask what he was talking about, you felt the moisture running down your cheeks. When did you start crying? “What’s the matter?” He tried again, his troubled eyes breaking your heart. ‘It’s nothing,’  that’s what you wanted to say, but your throat felt constricted as more tears fell. Hizashi didn’t need to hear you—he simply pulled you up into a proper hug, saying nothing as you cried in confused frustration. The music had stopped at some point during the sex, the only sound present now was your soft weeping. You let the soft rubs along your back soothe you, his other hand cradling your head. The tenderness of it all just made you want to cry more, but you held back and calmed yourself down and spoke. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” “Nothin’ to be sorry about, listener,” he returned to using that term, making this feel like another one of your friendly night talks. “It gets pretty intense sometimes.” He pulled you into a kiss, this one much lazier than the others. This was it. The kissing. It was too sweet, too sincere, the warmth of it blossomed something inside your chest that felt too earnest to be simple lust. Was he aware of what he was doing to you? Were you just overthinking this? Weren’t one-night stands supposed to have boundaries? Hizashi pulled out of you, leaving behind a sad emptiness that wanted him back immediately. He rose to his feet and headed to your bathroom, most likely to dispose of the condom. You heard his voice sound out of the room. “I’ve got little angels and devils to teach tomorrow, so I probably shouldn’t stay for long.”

Your heart felt like lead. “Okay,” you muttered. There really was nothing more to this. He was putting his boxers back on when he continued. “But…if it’s not too much to ask, maybe I can come by again?” What? Was he messing with you? “You’re serious?” You didn’t mean to sound so disbelieving, but your emotions were such a mess right now and you won’t appreciate having them toyed with. His pants were pulled up next. “One hundred percent serious!” He exclaimed with, dammit, that smile that lit up your entire being. “Maybe I’ll visit the cafe some more too. You were right about that croissant!” He returned to your side on the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist. “What I’m saying is, I think I like my favorite lady listener more than I thought.” Your heart was freed from its petrified state and swelled. Your arms swung around him before you could even stop yourself. “Hizashi…that’s so great but…you’re such a busy pro hero…I’m just a…how will this work?” You were rambling into his chest. “Easy girl, it’s nothing complicated. I’ll visit you whenever I have the time, alright? Ready to give you some support and…attention.” There’s that silly eyebrow wiggle again, making you laugh. You just kept on cuddling him, enjoying his presence for as long as you could tonight. A few minutes passed when you felt him shrug and break the silence. “Ah, what the hell.” He took hold of you and fell back onto the mattress with you now laying against him. “I guess I can stay for the night. I’ll just have to deal with waking up extra early tomorrow.” You snuggled into him and smiled. “Thank you,” you whispered. It’s unclear what kind of relationship you just formed with Hizashi; maybe this was only something temporary. All you knew is that you had him by your side, and you were going to cherish every minute of it and waste nothing. You’ll never waste a second of your life again.

[velvetthunder1999]

All the time on Earth

Part 34 - Seven Days After

Summary: After Fred’s death, neither you or George cope with the situation well. You cry in secret, he doesn’t come out of his room. Will he listen to you when you talk to him, or will he stay distant?

Warnings: Angst, Depression

Word count: 4.1K

George Weasley x Reader

Masterlist

The funeral was quick and you were glad for that. You zoned out after it had begun; you felt guilty for not paying attention but at the same time you knew that you wouldn’t be able to handle it. You were sitting in the front row next to George and the two of you were not saying a word to each other. From the corner of your eyes you saw how his shoulders rose and fell and you knew that he was forcing himself to breathe properly. He was staring without seeing much, and after the funeral ended with the lowering of the casket, he was the first to stand up and disappear in the house.

You had not seen him ever since, and it had been five days.

You felt empty. You wanted to feel empty. Empty was better than pain. You did not want to feel anything, because that would mean that you accepted the truth, that you were living through it, and you were not ready for that. It was easier to distance yourself, to pretend that it didn’t hurt. To pretend that you were not dreaming that you were carrying his body with the Ravenclaw boy. Pretending was good. Pretending was safe.

Oh, yes, pretending was fun. But sometimes it didn’t work. Sometimes the truth came through, memories flooded your mind, and during those times it hurt much more than you could ever imagine.

“Y/N, I’m talking to you, do you hear me?”

You looked up, your eyes meeting Ginny’s. The bowl of soup in front of you was cold and watery now. Opposite you, Mrs Weasley sat, crying. Mr Weasley was gently stroking her hair.

“I don’t know what to d-do,” she sobbed, her eyes puffy and weary.

Mrs Weasley had been busying herself, continuously doing the laundry, cooking more than was necessary, dusting off furniture every two hours… literally doing anything to draw her attention away from her son. Sometimes, however, she would break down, crying her eyes out. Apparently, this was one of those occasions.

“I t-tried everything… he won’t o-open the d-door.”

“I was just telling Y/N,” said Ginny, the usual strength missing from her voice. “That maybe she should try it.”

You looked around the table and noticed that everyone was staring at you. You raised an eyebrow.

“You want me what?”

Your throat hurt as you spoke. It had been days since you said more than one sentence.

“You can…” continued Ginny. “You can try to bring him his dinner. He won’t open the door to mum or dad.”

Of course. They were talking about George.

“What makes you think he’ll let me in?”

“C’mon, Y/N…” she pleaded. “Just try. Please.”

You looked away from her, fixating on Mrs Weasley again. She was dabbing her face with an already soaked handkerchief. She looked pathetic, to be honest. You couldn’t blame her, though.

You nodded and grabbed a prepared plate with some chicken and sprouts and headed for the staircase. Each step was a misery, it felt like you were marching to your own execution. You had no idea how he was going to react. He had not talked to you since the funeral.

You reached the door that recently you had tried to ignore, for it had been too much to even ackowledge its existence. But now you stood before it, your hand raised, and you knocked, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. You knocked again, this time more loudly, but there was still no response. You were thinking about leaving the food on the floor, but you reached for your wand instead and tapped on the handle, turning the lock with a clank.

You stepped inside and your carefully built wall of denial almost crumbled. The first thing you saw were the boxes, filled with untested products and notes; then you saw left behind socks and trousers all around the floor that were clearly not George’s; and finally you saw two bed, one perfectly made, cold, empty, and one with a tall ginger figure in it, facing the wall, his eyes closed.

You did not want to stay in the room for more time than was necessary. You put the plate onto the table, then turned and left. You did not want to go back to the kitchen; you headed for Ginny’s room which you shared, lay down and stared out the window at the darkening sky. Around nine Ginny came in as well, and you pretended that you were sleeping until she closed the curtains. Then you lay on your back, facing the ceiling, doing your best not to fall asleep, because you knew that nightmares would come, and you had had enough of those.

The house was quiet, it was past midnight. You wondered if you were the only one awake, or was there anyone else who was struggling against the calling of night time horrors. You closed your eyes, focusing on your steady breathing. You were not going to give in.

A brown pair of eyes.

You sat up, panting, shaking your head. No, you cannot think about it! You took deep breaths, determined to stay calm.

A Nosebleed Nougat in a colorful wrapper.

“Ah, fuck,” you whispered, burying your face into your hands. Stop it. Don’t. Just… don’t.

‘Morning, sunshine.’

You let out a quiet moan and you pressed your palm against your mouth. You got up as quietly as you could and made your way out of the room, down the stairs, into the bathroom. You closed the door, then opened the tap and splashed cold water on your face.

Drinking tea in the kitchen. ’I love you.’

“Stop!” you whispered, holding your head, as if you were trying to drive those unwanted thoughts away. The water was still running.

The couch in the common room. A lake with skating children. A pair of sneakers on the floor.

“Stop!” you groaned, hitting your head. “Stop it! Please… stop!”

‘You’re like a sister to me.’

“Shut up…” you cried, broken, grabbing onto the sink with one hand, trying to muffle your panicky breaths with the other. “Please… I don’t… I can’t…”

You fell onto the floor and did not want to get up. You held onto the rug, squeezing it, pleading to anyone who’d listen to stop the pain, release you, make it feel better, bring him back…

You didn’t know for how long you stayed there, but what it seemed like hours later you heard movement in the house. You stood up quickly, stopped the water, then left the bathroom quietly, looking out at the sky, seeing that morning was not far away… You went back to Ginny’s, climbed back into bed, and fell asleep within minutes.

You woke up, feeling more tired than ever. Your eyes hurt from the continuous sobbing, but if you were sure about one thing, it was that no one would make a comment about it. They knew.

You walked down to the kitchen, suddenly craving company. You ate a few bites of your toast, but it was like chewing a rug. Mr Weasley already left for the day with Percy, and you could not help but think about the shop that was now standing deserted. You choked up and pushed the plate away.

“Dear?” you faced Mrs Weasley, who was holding a bowl of porridge. “Will you take this up, please?”

You looked into her eyes, and realized that they were the same brown as —”

“Sure,” you said and quickly turned away. You went for the stairs again, stopped in front of the door just like you had done yesterday. You knocked, but there was no answer. After trying the lock, you pulled your wand out again and opened the door with a tap.

George looked exactly the same as the previous night. He was facing the wall, apparently sleeping. You looked at the table where his dinner lay untouched, cold. You switched it with the bowl without a word.

“The door’s locked for a reason.”

You turned around, not believing your ears. You had not heard George’s voice for almost a week. He sounded ill.

“You can tell dad as well.”

You swallowed.

“Your mum’s downstairs,” you said huskily. “It’s me.”

He jerked his head towards you and you barely recognised him. His eyes were swollen and almost shut, his whole face had sunken during those seven days. Under his eyes huge, dark circles colored his pale skin. He looked like a skull.

“Oh,” he said finally. “Okay.”

Your stomach clenched.

“Okay?” you stared. “Please, eat something. You can even bring the bowl down when you finish.”

He didn’t answer and you casted down your eyes. You wished he had at least stood up from the bed. You could not bare to look at him anymore. You turned around and left him, closing the door behind you.

“Nothing?” Ron asked as you returned to the kitchen. You shook your head. Mrs Weasley, seeing the untouched plate, broke into tears again.

“I wish he would talk to us!” said Ginny, angrily wiping her eyes. “He could at least come down to sit with us!”

“I know,” you said, thinking the same.

A fading smile on colorless lips. A white casket.

“Stop!” you said, shivering.

“What?” said Hermione. She looked worried. “Y/N, is everything —”

But she didn’t finish. She knew nothing was okay.

You turned away, facing the sink. You felt the familiar pressure in your throat, choking you, and you felt yourself tearing up.

“I’ll feed the chickens,” you said, not looking at any of them. You hurried out of the house, your feet taking you further and further. You passed the garden, passed the lake and ended up by that tree under which you had been sitting ages ago, with George, making a flower crown, telling him that you felt safe when you were with him…

‘How is the lovely couple?’

You pressed your fists against your eyes, violently shaking your head. No, you didn’t want to think about him, you didn’t want to, you didn’t…

Fred.

Fred as he colored your hair at Shell Cottage. Fred as he handed you a butterbeer in Hogsmeade. Fred as he looked concerned, then laughed at you. Fred teasing Ron. Fred smirking in the shop. Fred hugging you before setting off to rescue Harry. Fred, on the floor, dead.

It was so much worse now, during this lovely morning, surrounded by wild flowers and nicely buzzing bees. At night, you could pretend that it was just an episode, that when the morning comes the nightmare ends, but now… What could you pretend now?

You walked back into the house not long before lunch. Even if you didn’t eat much, you needed these small events to get you through the day. A sort of habit, a system. Sitting down, talking, crying alone, repeat.

“Dear?” said Mrs Weasley and you didn’t even look at her, but took the tray with a plate of food and a glass of water and headed for the stairs. You didn’t knock this time, you tapped the handle, opened the door and stepped inside. George looked exactly how you had left him, still in his pajamas, facing the wall.

“Here’s lunch,” you said.

“I don’t know if you can tell,” he started, without looking. “But I am not hungry.”

You looked at the bowl of porridge you had left there, now soggy and disgusting.

“Please,” you said. “Please, eat something. Or just — Let’s go outside. Let’s go for a walk.”

You wanted nothing more than to be with him.

“I don’t want to go for a walk,” came the muffled answer.

“Please,” you said, then added hesitantly, “I miss you.”

It was almost as if he moved his head a little… but it might had been your imagination. You stood there, not sure what to do, choking up under your emotions again. You wished he would look at you. You wished he’d at least turned around in the bed.

“Please,” you started, tears in your eyes. “Please, just look at me…”

“Please leave me alone,” he said miserably. “Leave me alone, Y/N.”

“Please.”

You waited, and he seemed to be waiting, too. You did not want to leave, not until you tell him what’s in your mind. It seemed like hours, before he finally moved; he slowly, very slowly turned around in the bed, then put one foot down onto the floor. His pale, sunken face was glowing in the curtained, shadowy room.

You two locked eyes, and it was when you truly saw how much pain he was in. He was lost, he was exhausted, he was grieving. But you were, too.

“Please, George,” you started. “Please… I can’t do this alone anymore. It’s… killing me, no matter how hard I try, it keeps crashing down on me… I don’t know what to do, I feel so miserable, I feel so useless, and I need you, I need you more than anything but… apparently you don’t need me, so —”

His face softened and he stood up from the bed. He came closer, reached out as if he was about to hug you, but then retreated. He casted down his eyes.

“Of course I need you… I…”

He shook his head, puzzled. From up-close you saw how dry his lips were, how unhealthy his skin looked. You could clearly make out his cheekbones.

“You, staying up here… isolating yourself… it’s not good, Georgie —”

He winced hearing his name and closed his eyes as if he was trying to get rid of a thought. You stood there, watching, speaking as genuinly as you could.

“I’m not the only one… your family misses you, too —”

“They miss him,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not me.”

“That’s not true!” you said and stepped closer, this time taking his hand, too.

“They’re worried about you… Please, don’t do this… Don’t push them — don’t push us away. Staying here alone is not going to make you feel better… and it breaks my heart, you up here, feeling miserable, not eating, not —”

“Of course I’m feeling miserable!” he said, with a surprisingly rude tone. “What did you think, that I’m gonna sing and dance around the house? My brother just died!”

“I know,” you said, feeling hurt. “But don’t forget, he was a son, he… and he was like a brother to me, too.”

“Yeah? You weren’t even related,” he snarled all of a sudden. “So how d’you reckon I feel?”

You were taken aback. All of a sudden George looked like a bomb, ready to explode. You let go of his hand, and you felt yours shaking.

“I know you’re scared —” you started, but he cut you off.

“I’m not scared —”

“— but I’m scared, too. Every time I… I think of him, I’m scared, because I know I’ll have to live a life without him…”

“Stop it,” he said, closing his eyes again. You were barely holding yourself together now.

“And I’m scared to accept that he’s really gone…”

“Stop it, Y/N, I’m telling you…”

He sounded like a wounded animal. You started sobbing.

“I’m not stopping! You stop it, stop acting like he was only yours, because you’re not the only one in this house who feels fucking miserable…”


“I’m not saying I’m the only one, but he’s… he was… I knew him best, I was the closest to him! Y/N… Can you believe that?” he was half shouting, half crying. “Can you imagine what’s it like being together with someone for twenty years, and then see them on the floor, d-dead?!”

“I…”

“Everywhere I look, I see him. I look at his bed and it’s empty, I look outside and he’s not there! I’m stuck, it’s torturing me, it’s like he’s torturing me…”

“Don’t you think it’s torturing your family, too?” you yelled. You wiped your eyes, but it was a weak attempt; you couldn’t stop crying. “Have you seen your mum? How she breaks down every two hours? How she always tries to do something, to keep her mind on something else? And your dad? Comes home from work, barely speaking, barely eating? And Percy? Being all shaky and not staying long, because he wants to hide how messed up he is?”

“Yes, I’m sure they’re all —”

“And that’s not the worst!” you didn’t let him finish. “The worst is that you won’t even care, you don’t even show your face, and now it feels like we’re grieving two people, because you’re not there!”

“Well, I wish I wasn’t there!” he shouted painfully. “I honesty think that it should’ve been me, I wish it was! I wish I was the one, not him, sometimes —”

“YEAH, WELL, SOMETIMES I WISH I WAS DEAD, TOO!”

He fell silent, and you couldn’t take it anymore. You turned around, sobbing, ran down the stairs and ended up in the kitchen. When you looked up, you saw that everyone was staring. You ignored them and ran out of the house. Not looking back, you turned on your heels, jumped into the nothingness and disapparated.

——

You came back to the Burrow way past dusk. As you appeared at the little meadow the first thing you saw was the house with light coming out of its windows. You couldn’t stop yourself; you searched for George’s window, then turned your head away immediately. It was dark.

You shivered a bit, even though it wasn’t too cold. It was the middle of May, and you saw a couple of owls setting off for their night time hunting. You thought about Peanut and your heart ached again.

You didn’t want to go in just yet — you were not planning on sleeping any time soon, anyway. You walked slowly towards the backdoor, watching as a gnome hurried back into its hole by the sight of you. Finally you stopped, sitting down onto the last step outside the door, resting your chin on the back of your hands, your elbows on your knees. You stared without seeing, and you didn’t even jump when the moonlight shone upon some kind of animal crossing the garden.

You weren’t sure you wanted anyone to know where you’d been. You weren’t sure you were ready to see any of them, after what they had heard. You weren’t even sure how you felt about the things you had said. They were true, there was no doubt. But it still pained you to realize, how far you had come, when you were supposed to be happy. You won, didn’t you? The good side won, Voldemort’s reign was over, and you should be happy. Right?

You wished it was that easy.

You sniffled and looked around in the garden, finally taking in the sight. In the darkness, only illuminated by the moon and the stars, everything seemed so peaceful. It seemed almost unbelievable, and suddenly you hated all this beauty, all this peace. You were jealous of it. It was unfair, it was not right to have such peaceful things surround you, when you were so disturbed… It was unfair of nature to run its course as if nothing had happened, when something did happen, and Fred Weasley was dead.

You watched as the light breeze tingled the grass, and you looked over the hill where the small village lay; not far from it the cemetery, that was hidden from muggle eyes, that was only for wizards and in which now stood a tombstone, with a very familiar name on it.

“I wish you were here,” you said lowly, not even sure that you wanted to speak. ���I miss you so much.”

You let out a shaky breath, tears swam in your eyes. Then you let out a short, nervous laugh.

“I’m sure you’d take the mickey out of me if you saw I was talking to you. But I don’t care. I’m just… scared. I’m so scared to… to one day wake up and don’t remember your face… or the sound of your voice… and I’m scared because I k-know that I need to live the rest of my life without you… I don’t know if I can d-do that…”

You wiped your tears when you heard steps from the kitchen. The door opened and someone joined you on the stairs.

“Were you talking to him?” asked Ginny kindly. You hesitated, then decided that it didn’t really matter. You nodded.

“Yeah.”

She looked at your face, but you were avoiding her eyes. Finally she turned away, following your gaze that was still fixed on the hill.

“I talked with Harry about this,” she started, playing with a grass halm. “He said… He said he was at a place, from where he came back. There’s… There’s something there… I’m sure.”

You didn’t answer. It was too nice to be true.

“I’m saying that he might have heard everything you just told him,” she continued. You bit down on your lips. “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

You wiped your tears again, unable to stop crying. But for now, it was not a continuity of ugly sobs… it was silent, and somehow your soul felt a bit lighter after Ginny gently squeezed your shoulder.

The door opened again behind the two of you, and you heard an exhausted voice speak.

“Can I talk to her?”

Ginny’s mouth dropped by the sight of George, and you could understand her — she didn’t see him for a week after all. For a moment she looked as if she couldn’t decide wether to hug or shout at his brother, but eventually she just stood up, nodded and left.

You turned back to face the garden again. From the corner of your eyes you saw a pair of shoes next to you.

“Can I sit down?”

“It’s your house,” you said. For a moment, without even realizing it, you were waiting for his comment, for his little chuckle and him murmuring ‘witty’ under his breath. But it didn’t come, and as George sat down, somehow your heart broke a little more.

You were sitting in quiet for some time, and you didn’t really care. You weren’t in the mood for fighting, and you were certainly tired of convincing George about anything.

“Were you serious?” he asked finally. His voice was low and raspy, but you could still hear him in the silent garden. “Did you mean what you said?”

“What part?” you asked, without facing him.

“The last one.”

You tried to gather your thoughts, tried to make them sound nicer, but it was impossible. Your thoughts, just as you, were a mess.

“Yes,” you said. “Yes, I meant it. It’s just… so hard. I can’t sleep… I have all these flashbacks, and they hurt… and I wait at night until everyone’s asleep so I go and cry in the bathroom, how messed up is that?”

“Does it help?” he asked. “Crying?”

“No, it doesn’t do a damn thing,” you said miserably. “I am constantly switching between denying my memories and being afraid that I’ll forget him…”

“You won’t forget him.”

“You don’t know that,” you wiped your eyes. “It so hard to believe that one week ago I was talking with him, and now he’s… he’s…”

You started panting, trying to cry as quietly as possible. George’s head was hanging low and you wished he’d say something… But how could you wish that, when you knew that he was feeling even worse than how you did?

“Y/N, I want to apologize,” he said, raising his head. “I’m so sorry that I haven’t been there for you. You deserve so much better… I know that you loved him and that he loved you, too. And I’m sorry for what I’ve said, about you not being related. It doesn’t matter, it didn’t matter then, it doesn’t matter now… You’re part of my family. And you were right, about being there for each other… g-grieving together. I’m just sorry for being so selfish.”

You nodded and finally faced him. He sat there with his eyes closed, his jaw clenched. He was shaking.

“But it’s been so hard for me as well… to realize, to accept… I haven’t slept for a bloody week, every part of my body hurts… he’s everywhere…” tears ran down on his cheek. “When is it gonna get easier?”

“I… I don’t know.”

“How are we supposed to just live now?”

“I don’t know. But… I don’t wanna do it alone. I can’t do it alone.”

“Me neither,” he said and let you wipe the tears off his cheek with your thumb. “Stay with me.”

“Always,” you said, barely louder than a whisper. Then the two of you just sat there in silence, watching as the moon rose higher and higher on the sky.

[magioftheseas]

Soft Trauma

Summary: Komaeda wakes up, runs away from Hinata, but is caught by Naegi. Among other things.

Rating: T+

Warnings: Hospitalization, severe mental illness, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, some mentions of blood, just pretty messy medical stuff all around. There’s some rough kissing too Ig.

Notes: I’m pretty sure this fic was started in like...2013. 2014. It’s very, very old. I decided to finish it for kicks. Because it’s so old, dr3 just isn’t a blimp and it uses SHSL instead of Ultimate. So old. It’s Komaegi/KomaHina and very angsty. Have fun.

***Alternate Ao3 Link***

Commission? Donate?

“Are you alright?” That person asks him, and the look Komaeda is on the end of receiving is...strange, to say the least. He wouldn’t call it particularly caring—but the concern was clear. It was...a very obscured gaze, though it almost softens when Komaeda keeps gaping at him like a lost dog. “It’s...understandable though, right? With everything that’s happened, especially to you... But it’s over now.”

“I... What?”

“I don’t know what else to say to you,” the other continues on, and the softness is gone to be replaced with his expression pinching up. Like this feeble attempt at conversation is starting to cause him pain. “I don’t know... I don’t even know if I can forgive you. Do you remember anything?”

Komaeda doesn’t immediately answer—instead staring curiously at...him. With bizarrely long locks and dull red eyes. The question he asks... Komaeda doesn’t know how to respond to it either way.

But he seems to...understand. “Right. It’s been rough. Never mind. You know what—never mind.” And annoyance sparks through his features as he almost jerks away and stops just in the middle of leaving. “You’re awake. Everyone’s awake. That’s all the matters. It’s over.”

“Over?” he echoes, and the other grits his teeth though Komaeda can’t see it.

“...Komaeda...” Komaeda flinches—because his surname sounds so dry. Like it’s something the other had been avoiding to say for a while. And though he clearly struggles with saying the rest—just Komaeda is enough to leave him near breathless—he continues. “Try and get better soon.”

Komaeda sees him walk out of the room and close the door behind him—but he doesn’t hear a thing. Was that person a ghost? With the way that person looked, it could have been a demon—but no. No, he knows that’s not what that was. Demons don’t show such care, especially for someone like him and...

--

When he remembers, he rips out his IVs and leaves the hospital room.

To where, he isn’t quite sure. He just stumbles in the direction his legs take him, holding his bandaged stump to his chest and staring at the ground all the while.

--

He’s still found, of course. But it’s not the person from before. It’s...someone else. Someone he knows but doesn’t fully remember.

“Komaeda-kun, there you are,” His sigh is relieved. Komaeda blinks the blurriness out of his eyes by the time he raises his gaze to the other approaching. Slowly. Carefully. His smile is small. Komaeda skitters back and further away. He still calls for him—but annoyance doesn’t touch his tone. Not like it would if that person—Hinata-kun—were the one to have found him. “Komaeda-kun, please. You need to get back. You’re not well.”

“How do you know that?” he asks in returns, voice too dulled to even manage surprise. “How would you know that? Who exactly are you?”

This brunet—it’s not Hinata-kun—doesn’t lose his smile for Komaeda like so many others. No, he still looks so understanding and it just makes Komaeda’s head spin more. It’s so dizzying, he might just faint and—then the other moves. And his hands are steadying Komaeda so that he doesn’t fall. Komaeda blinks a bit furiously, and for some reason, his heart is racing.

And this is familiar. He knows this feeling. He’s felt it before. He remembers that...

 “We...were in school together? We used to see each other quite a bit, right?” He remembers this—between the wretched poisonous memories of her and everything else, he remembers him. It’s fuzzy, but he recalls—though wasn’t he shorter? Softer?

He was still short. Still soft. But so bright. Was he always so bright? Wait—Komaeda picks up a few more pieces—the ones that don’t slice his fingers open and drip with his blood—and he puts them together. Back then, this person had been...

“We were almost friends,” the other says, wistfully and almost mournfully. It’s strange. He almost sounds like he regrets that almost. He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. “We were in separate classes, Komaeda-kun, but I did see you every now and then. Do you remember? You...” Here he laughs, more like chuckles a bit weakly. “You were the one who cushioned my fall when I tripped on one of the staircases. I was terrified because I thought you were seriously hurt.”

Komaeda slumps a bit and he shoves the other away, stumbling back as his hand shakily goes to the scars his hair hides. The other sees and his frown deepens as he approaches him again. Like he was approaching some scared, wounded animal. And Komaeda, really...

He wants so badly to be held.

“Naegi-kun,” he says—voice blank and empty but with trembling limbs reaching for the shorter, softer other. His voice scratches against his throat, raw and painful, but he can’t stop saying his name, “Naegi-kun.”

Naegi crosses the distance with ease and wraps his arms around him, whispering sweet condolences into his ear while he has to pretend said comfort doesn’t burn him like dabs of alcohol against his wounds.

“You don’t have to worry about that anymore,” Naegi murmurs, and Komaeda freezes when he easily puts together what that is. But Naegi holds him tighter so that his pieces don’t fall apart. “It’s done. You can move forward, just like everyone else.”

Komaeda sighs; nuzzles against him as his hand and wrist press into Naegi’s back. Naegi strokes his hair like it isn’t a knotted filthy mess thick with dust. Contrarily, Naegi smells fresh and clean—and that scent is almost suffocating.

As awkward as it is with their different heights, Komaeda buries his face in Naegi’s shoulder further. For now, the warmth is enough. For now.

--

Naegi leads him back to his room by hand—like a parent guiding their child. Komaeda keeps his head down, though every so often his eyes flicker up just enough to observe the curve of Naegi’s cheek and the shape of his slightly tilted profile. He also thinks he’d like to see Naegi turn to face him completely, and then he wonders how much he’d see if he was closer...

And he winds up so disgusted with himself his head drops back down and stares hard at the ratty shoes on his feet he used to be fond of.

“Komaeda-kun,” Naegi asks him softly as he glares down at himself. Komaeda makes a sound of acknowledgment, but he refuses to look at the other facing him. “We’re almost there.”

He hums in response, and Naegi continues. “I was thinking... I’m going to stay with you a little longer. I’d rather not leave you alone right now, honestly.”

Komaeda’s breath catches, but he only shakily nods instead of making a comment. Naegi must notice—the way his pale trembling hand tightens around his smaller, firmer one. Komaeda doesn’t have to see his face to hear the smile in his voice. “Alright then. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to tell me. And don’t worry—I’m not going to leave you unless that’s what you really need.”

You should though. You need to leave the first chance you get, Naegi-kun. I don’t need...

Komaeda can’t say that though—and the only thing keeping him from sinking is Naegi’s warm grip wrapped around him.

--

The problem isn’t the fuzzy memories of the younger SHSL Lucky Komaeda knew and then a little more... The problem is that Komaeda can’t stop thinking about Hinata.

Komaeda already tries so hard not to think about Hinata as he was in the stimulation. Hinata, who had a smile for him that disappeared as soon as it appeared—and yet he continued to approach him anyway.  Hinata tried so hard to understand even when it was clear he never would. Hinata was nothing special. Hinata was too plain, too average, and ended up far too important.

But wasn’t Naegi like that as well? Plain? Average? Far too important? But, shamefully, the main difference was...

“Komaeda-kun, I got you some water. It’s cold like you wanted.” Naegi opens the door, handing him the chilly open bottle for Komaeda’s trembling hand to take. He smiles brightly, warmly, and Komaeda wonders if the water is magnifying the blush he feels rising on his face. “Are you feeling any better?”

“Y-Yeah. Thank you, Naegi-kun.” He really is grateful, but the revelation comes as no less of a sinking feeling of dread. Naegi’s widening smile only certifies it.

Hinata-kun won’t smile like that for me anymore. But it’s not like I deserve it. Naegi-kun’s just being kind. He’s kind to everyone, no matter how awful or wretched they are. Still...

The gratitude and dread mix with something else and he begins to feel sick. Naegi responds to his thanks with a sweet comment of “it’s no problem”, but... It really is a problem. He feels sick.

He’s not going to say anything about it, though.

--

Naegi sees him and spends a lot of time with him. As much as he can. If Naegi ends up caught in something else, he still sends his wishes to Komaeda through either a letter or Kirigiri who sometimes checks up on him too. Kirigiri is nice when she relays the message but she looks at Komaeda a little too carefully—and he knows her talent far too well.

Though Kirigiri isn’t so bad to talk to—she’s good at relaying information on things Komaeda is shamefully unaware of.

“Your other classmates have been recovering well—so we don’t have to focus so much on them. Hinata-kun’s been making the process easier, too.” Komaeda nods at this, and can’t even remember if he asked for this information. Everything’s been in a blur lately. But Kirigiri continues on informingly—how his classmates have been pulling through, and how even despite the awful memories that Komaeda’s too afraid to touch, they...still manage. Somehow. Though it’s not likely going as well as it sounds.

Not that Komaeda really wants a clarification. But Kirigiri tells him anyway, and he politely listens until...

“Hinata-kun asked about you the other day.”

He freezes, one good hand clenching bone-white in the sheets as he stares down at the wrinkles bleeding through and tries to avoid looking at the bandaged stump of a wrist where his other hand used to be. After a while, he shakily asks, “W-What did he say, Kirigiri-san?”

“He asked if you would be able to leave your room anytime soon. When he should expect you to be discharged.” She reached out, smoothing the tenseness of his fist with her gloved fingers. A gesture Naegi would do. “I told him that if—when that happened, he wouldn’t have to worry. Naegi-kun would still be keeping a close eye on you, as well as the rest of the future foundation.”

Komaeda loosens his grip on the sheets, not even attempting a smile as he responds in a dull voice, “Naegi-kun really troubles himself a lot over me, as does Hinata-kun. I’d prefer it if they didn’t. But at least he won’t have to worry about it after all, right Kirigiri-san?”

“If you mean Hinata-kun, then I’m not sure about that. He still looked unsure, which makes sense. Even as I explained more thoroughly, he looked unsure.” She’s blunt in her explanations—observational and unbiased. Even if the explanation makes him feel uneasy, he appreciates that she’s so concise. “Do you want to know anything else?”

“Not really.” He’s a bit blunt himself. He gets that. “Thank you, Kirigiri-san.”

She gives him a slight smile, but it’s one that has him seize up for a moment. Because he recognizes this expression. He’s never talked to Kyouko Kirigiri before encountering her as SHSL Despair, but he knows almost instinctively that he’s seen this look. Considering who she is, it isn’t hard to figure out where.

“Is something wrong, Komaeda-kun?” The smile is gone, and she looks a little worried. Komaeda immediately shakes his head.

She’s still being kind. The last thing I should do is upset her.

“Don’t worry about it. I just... My mind went blank for a moment. Please don’t worry about it, Kirigiri-san.” He winces when he says her surname like that, and her expression doesn’t change. His heart raced with the very real possibility she saw through him anyway—but then she only nods.

“It seems we’re going to have to keep a better eye on you,” Kirigiri notes, almost sighing. “Though Naegi-kun’s optimistic about you, Komaeda-kun.”

He almost laughs at that, a smile cracking at his dry lips. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from SHSL Hope. I envy him—being able to retain such faith in someone like me...”

Kirigiri doesn’t say anything in response. But she takes the water by his stand and refills it. Then she rummages through the cabinets to find the appropriate medicine to take with it. Komaeda’s smile starts to fade.

“Here,” she offers, and he takes it immediately, swallowing down the pills with large gulps of the clean, cold water.

His stomach churns unpleasantly, but he thanks her politely all the same.

--

He ends up vomiting just as Naegi returns, and Naegi rubs soothing circles into his back and holding back his hair as he heaves over a trashcan. It helps because Naegi immediately shushes any self-deprecation that falls from his lips like further bile.

“We’ll get you something for nausea, Komaeda-kun.” Naegi says kindly, handing him some napkins to wipe his mouth off. Komaeda does so, and Naegi starts tugging him to get to the bathroom so that he can brush his teeth. Or maybe Naegi’s going to do that for him. The thought drags him down.

“You know,” Naegi murmurs as he helps him walk. “It’s alright to lean on me if you need it.”

Komaeda does. Though all it does is help him fall further.

No matter what medication they give him, the sickness never fades either way.

--

Things get worse when his dreamless nights disappear. He ends up dreaming a lot more than he wants—remembering things he really doesn’t want to think too much about.

His death in the stimulation comes up a lot—and it’s bizarre because he’d been resolute in the procedures. He wasn’t scared of dying, not if it was for a purpose. That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt—that he didn’t scream through the tape over his mouth. That he didn’t nearly choke through tears the second his lungs were filled with that poison.

That he didn’t have regrets and at the time, couldn’t stop thinking about...

...Hinata showed up in his dreams too. Hinata taking his hand as he pulled him up from the beach. Hinata fretting so much as they walked that he kept bumping shoulders with him. Hinata standing before him, looking torn with wariness and worry, and Komaeda unable to stop thinking that he might really...

Hinata with long black hair and red eyes piercing into him. Red. Red eyes. Red eyes piercing into him—red nails digging into him.

Komaeda halts his thoughts then and there and proceeds to risk overdose on sleeping pills so that he can pass out and fall into the void rather than getting dragged down there.

--

Admittedly that wasn’t the best option.

“Komaeda-kun, if you’re having trouble with sleeping, just say so!” Naegi actually looks angry—frazzled and...worried. Was he scared? It was just a few more days spent hospitalized, thankfully, and while it’s a bit disappointing, Naegi still... “Please. You have to say something when something is wrong.”

He really doesn’t understand and Naegi’s voice gets softer. “I don’t know how much you remember what happened at the academy—but I do. I don’t want it to happen again. I don’t want to see anyone go through that ever again. Especially not you—not again.”

“Naegi-kun...” His voice still sounds dead to his own ears and that just makes it worse. Naegi actually starts to shake as he reaches forward to grip Komaeda’s left wrist. His grasp is careful, wary of the bandages, and Naegi’s gaze just lowers.

“Were you having trouble with nightmares? Did you get scared?” Naegi questions these things quietly, gentle but coaxing. Komaeda feels bogged down with each soft word permeating his mind. “If you need to talk to someone, I’m here. Please. I want to help you—and I want you to want...”

I want you.

Komaeda silences him by placing a hand on his cheek, shushing him carefully, and Naegi looks eager to hear him unwind. To hear him spill everything he needs to—and Komaeda knows he’s only going to disappoint so he apologizes beforehand. “You don’t have to forgive me, Naegi-kun.”

And before Naegi can say anything else, Komaeda presses his mouth to his.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs against Naegi’s slack, surprised lips before pulling away. “I’m really, really sorry.”

Naegi sucks in a breath, fights back the urge to bring his fingers to where he’d been kissed, and only smiles like he always does for Komaeda. It makes his heart hurt even more. “It’s fine. It’ll be alright, Komaeda-kun.”

There’s a tremor that goes through his body at those words. But Naegi’s perfectly willing to let it drop. He doesn’t say anything else and well, Komaeda won’t say anything, either.

Even though, if he remembers correctly, that was the first time he ever kissed someone. And to think, it was something he used to dream about a lot about. Having someone he would kiss—kissing Naegi in particular. Something he once accepted as an event that would never happen.

Disgusting.

--

The day Naegi insists he gets up and walks around to stretch his legs is the one he wants to stay in bed the most. But only because otherwise, he really doesn’t care as long as he doesn’t risk having to perhaps encounter his old classmates. It’s cowardly, of course, but he can’t...

He gives in but refuses to use a crutch so Naegi sticks by just a bit closer. He would have been with him anyway—no one trusts him, after all. It’s fine, as awful as it is, Komaeda likes that Naegi’s there. He’s a good stable point after all. SHSL Hope.

His lips sometimes burn with the memory of the kiss. But that was with Naegi-kun, not SHSL Hope. But Naegi-kun is...

“Careful, Komaeda-kun,” Naegi steadies him as he stumbles, sighing as Komaeda meekly apologizes. “It’s fine. I’m not mad. Just worried.”

Naegi’s always worrying about others he really should be more apprehensive of. Especially when that other is Komaeda. Considering that he still wants, no matter how much he tries to crush that yearning, Naegi really should be more uneasy than he is.

For some reason, it’s hard to say all that. So Komaeda just nods along and they keep on walking through the long, solitary corridor. The light shines in through the windows on the left side of the hall, filtering onto the tiles, and because he needs to stop looking at the ground to not look at Naegi, he glances out of them as they pass.

He stills to a dead stop in his tracks.

The first thing he notices is someone who has to be Owari, swinging her arms out and slamming them against a laughing Nidai. Even though she looked different—thinner because Komaeda remembers that she was the one who—there was no doubt it was her. They were being cheered on by Sonia, Mioda, and Souda as Tsumiki remained safely on standby tucked under the tree covers. Hanamura was given access to the grill, making what were probably lewd comments under To—the Impostor’s careful gaze. Koizumi and Saionji were chattering animatedly, and Kuzuryuu and Pekoyama were close together as well. Tanaka was more separated from them, though he wasn’t alone as he was just giving bits of food to the birds picking at the ground before him. No, not one of them was really alone.

Except. Where is...?

Souda turns to greet the upcoming presence. Long black hair was done in a braid—who did that, Komaeda wondered—and Ibuki is the first to rush up and tackle the other into a hug. He turns around to his other classmates—no, associates—and once Komaeda sees his face, his mind goes completely blank.

With his smile bright and wide and eyes shut as the rest of the group greets him and gathers around him, there’s no doubt for a moment that it’s him. Hinata-kun. He can’t hear what they’re saying or what Hinata’s saying, of course, but with Hinata’s grin on full display, he doesn’t feel like he needs to.

Hinata never was good at starting conversations, but his expressions were enough. Happy beams to let everyone know he was content—alert focus to show he was in deep thought or carefully listening. Uncertain frowns to show his worry. Gritted grimaces to challenge. Komaeda watches the emotions flicker across his face as keenly now as he did then.

That smile, though. It’s not one he’s witnessed often—mostly if not only small, almost sheepish grins accompanying shy gratitude. Ones that Komaeda could easily return back then. Back then. Now, though...

“They look like they’re having fun,” Naegi notes and it almost makes him flinch. Komaeda feels cold sweat run down his cheek as the younger gives him an easy grin that’s just like his—just like Hinata’s—and... “How about we join them?”

Hinata-kun won’t smile like that for me anymore. And it’s not like I don’t deserve it. But...

“Aren’t you going?” Hinata, looking at him warily and yet expectantly, and Komaeda could only smile. He can’t now, even as he says the same thing now as he did then.

“I’m not so unaware of my position that I can just walk out there... If I did that, I’d just ruin the mood.” The words come out easily, and he turns away from both Naegi and Hinata, staring back down at the cold tiled floor. “It’s nice that you think it’s so easy, Naegi-kun.”

“Komaeda-kun, it’s...” And because Komaeda can’t bear to hear him say how fine it is when it’s not—he just snaps.

So it ends up this way, with him pinning Naegi to the wall and desperately trying to connect their mouths together as he tries so hard to ignore the heat from the window beating down on his back.

It ends up wrong. He apologizes profusely when his chapped lips scratch against Naegi’s softer ones. But he pulls the other close when Naegi just gives his sweet, forgiving smile, and their mouths rub almost painfully together with his disgusting continuous indulgence. It’s like he’s starving and this is the only thing that fills his stomach—but the necessity is distorted into greed and at this point, Komaeda doesn’t even care if this overabundance causes his insides to collapse—he just needs.

So it’s more like a drug. A drug. Disgusting. Disgusting.

“Komaeda-kun,” Naegi sighs. Komaeda nips at his lip, teeth gently tugging at them and hands beginning to tremble as he reaches to thread his fingers through soft brown hair. “Komaeda-kun, it’s okay.”

No, it’s not. Komaeda shakes his head before pressing his mouth to his, muting anything else from coming out. Don’t. It’s not.

Naegi responds, pressing back and steadying him with hands on his shoulders. Somehow that undoes him even more—and Komaeda gives a desperate moan.

“It’s alright,” Naegi pushes him away gently when he presses into him harder, the meeting between their lips nearly suffocating even as he greedily tries to take in more. Komaeda’s breathing harshly, drinking gulps of air and trembling like an addict going through withdrawal. It’s disgusting. It must be sickening to look at.

“I-I’m...” His forehead falls into the curve of Naegi’s shoulder. His neck hurts from having to lean, but he can only pull the other closer. “I’m... I’m...”

Naegi holds him in the hallway like he did the first day, the same gentle comfort and loving condolences. He strokes his hair, careful not to get caught on any unsightly knots, and Komaeda’s shaking in his arms like a leaf. It’s too bright—the light from the window, he can’t stand looking at it.

Naegi must somehow notice because he tugs Komaeda back to his room a little later with not much else.

--

He pulls Naegi practically on top of him when he’s back on his bed, connecting their mouths and needing this far more than he needs the image of Hinata’s bright smiling face on someone with long black hair. There are other things too—how this feels like compensation for a time before all that, those memories he does have of Naegi where Hinata isn’t there. This isn’t a surprise because Hinata is not and was never an elite.

He’s nothing special. No talent. And yet.

“Komaeda-kun, enough,” Naegi parts from him, placing his fingers over Komaeda’s quivering lips. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what? What is there to talk about?” Komaeda asks, attempting a smile but it withers on the spot. He wants to run a hand through his hair, but doing so would require relinquishing the grip he has on Naegi’s shirt. He shakes his head at the idea, though it makes Naegi’s frown deepen a bit. “It’s impudent though, isn’t it, that I’m even doing this. It’s audacious, unthinkable, and I don’t know why I...”

“Komaeda-kun, it’s alright.”

“Why do you always say that? As much as I respect you, Naegi-kun, even I know you’ve got that wrong. It’s not alright.” Komaeda laughed, wheezy and awful and it hurt his throat. Naegi doesn’t even look afraid, not like Hinata did. “It’s not alright because I’m still here. I’m still alive. After everything I’ve done, I should be dead by now—I think I ought to be dead.”

Naegi grips his shoulders, and before he can so much open his mouth to form a denial, Komaeda continues so that he can’t. “I know what I’ve done, and...when I remembered after you found me the first time... I managed to put the pieces together. I somehow managed to piece together the full extent of what I’d done. All I ever did was play into her hands. Again. I was used by her—that person I hate more than anything...and I let her dig her nails into me and squeeze.”

She always held him so tight with silk-laced steel in her tone and hands.

And I didn’t even try to fight her—I didn’t even try. I just let her do as she wanted—helped her achieve what she wanted, I just... I just...

At some point, he just stopped struggling. He just let her do...as she wanted...

“Komaeda-kun!” Naegi exclaimed, and Komaeda was only vaguely aware of why. He was curled in on himself—arms wrapped around himself as tremors wracked his body without relent. His breathing quickened, grew heavier, and his face was wet with sweat and what might be tears. Naegi shouted his name again, and he curled in tighter, beginning to hiccup and hyperventilate.

I’m not dead. Yet he’s never felt less alive in his life. He’s choking on air, feeling like an old coat being yanked in different directions with each worn, ugly thread severing, and despite there being pain—his chest hurts, his throat hurts, his joints are starting to hurt—he’s losing more and more of himself with each passing second. Not dead. Not. I’m not dead.

He hears something. Naegi trying to get to him? But it’s dark, he’s not sure, and he doesn’t know—what’s even going on. I’m not dead. But. But... I should be. I really should be. I meant to be. I wanted...wanted...

Then he just stops thinking. It’s too dark.

--

He wakes up exhausted. The IVs are back in his arm. His body feels like lead. More than anything, he wants to fall back asleep. Never wake up again until it was better. If it got better.

But I’m not dead.

Komaeda lifted his head weakly, wiping off his forehead and blearily blinking at his bandaged stump of a wrist as it rested calmly against the sheets. There wasn’t any blood anymore—there used to be so much blood. His head really was starting to hurt. He needed to take something for that.

Oh, and something for his earlier freak-out. That probably worried Naegi. He doesn’t want to do that again: worrying Naegi...

Nae...gi.

Where’s Naegi-kun?

On cue the door opens, and Komaeda turns with an immediate smile. One that immediately falls from his lips as his jaw goes slack and curls fall before his eyes.

“Komaeda,” Hinata wets his lips, hand squeezing the knob of the door before he ultimately lets himself in, closing it with his back. “I...was told that you...”

This isn’t a joke, is it? I know you’re cruel, Luck, but this is...pushing it. I don’t like it. I’m not happy with this—this is surely bad luck and that’s not fair... But Komaeda forced a smile again, and his giggle sounded painful even to his ears. “Good morning, Kamukura-kun.”

Hinata stilled, and Komaeda saw anger flicker across his features—no, more like a kind of fury—but then Hinata steeled himself, yanking his hand through the long black locks and muttering, almost inaudibly to himself...something. Komaeda couldn’t make it out, not really. Just as he was about to comment on it though, Hinata cut him off with a snarl of his surname.

“Komaeda, just what the hell...” Hinata glared, head lowered and gaze almost glowing beneath his brow. A warning sign—one that would have been frightening considering the face. Hinata’s never made it before and, in all honesty, the actual Kamukura’s expression was threatening in a sense, sure, but more a perpetual state than anything else. Not to mention back then, Komaeda outright laughed at that face. Somehow he manages to laugh again here and it makes Hinata nearly tremble. But he doesn’t say anything, so Komaeda starts.

“You can here for something.” Even with a smile on his face, his voice sounds cold. He feels cold, too, and Hinata even froze with those crimson eyes going wide. He looked more like Hinata with that face. Komaeda’s tone grew icier. “What, exactly, was it that you wanted?”

“I...” He hesitates long enough.

“If you don’t know, then you should leave. Come back when you do, you know?” Komaeda nearly rose his arm to gesture, but stopped dead when he realized it was the wrong one. So he gives up on that and thankfully doesn’t stumble on his next words. “I’ll be here when you do. Perhaps.”

Hinata snaps out of his surprise and glowers again, and he almost reminds Komaeda of a cat in the way he puffs out with ire. It’s actually cute. Komaeda giggles into his hand and that irritates him further because of course, it would.

“I-I...” It’s strange Hinata hasn’t left yet. He usually would have at this point. Instead, it’s like his feet are still rooted to the floor, which is extra strange because Komaeda really would prefer it if he just stormed out like he always does when his tolerance for Komaeda runs low.

Perhaps he wants answers. He didn’t ask for them last time and now is the perfect opportunity. I’ll give them to him, too, if he just asks. Maybe if I make that clear, he’ll...

“Hinata-kun, if you want...”

“I was worried about you.”

Komaeda stills, expression blank with confusion. Hinata seemed to blurt that out without thinking. And before Komaeda could brush it off with an easy ‘no worries’, it was like Hinata snapped in that moment he was taken off-guard by the statement.

Because, abruptly after saying that, Hinata was shouting. “I was worried! I thought something happened when I heard about you blacking out after a panic attack and I—I got fucking scared alright?! You were out of it for days. I didn’t know if you were going to wake up! I was worried sick about you, Komaeda, and considering the shit you pulled, I really shouldn’t have been!”

Hinata spews it all in one breath and at the end of his rant, he’s panting, breathing heavily, and Komaeda can only stare at him blankly. A little bit later and Hinata chokes out an aggravated sound, covering his face with the action. He shakes a bit again, like despite allowing his outburst, that heavy weight on his shoulders remained, and if Komaeda had been in the right frame of mind, he’d be disappointed. Or would that have been wrong?

Though he does agree that, “You...really shouldn’t have been, Hinata-kun.”

“So you did know,” Hinata darkly laughs behind his hand. He really does sound tired and sick of this. It’s not an unfamiliar reaction to Komaeda—he’s seen it before in countless other people but... “You’re such a piece of work.”

Komaeda can no longer look at him. Instead he’s looked at his bandaged wrist again, lying without worry on the sheets over his lap. There’s nothing to hide anymore, he thinks. He also thinks he really needs to have these bandages replaced. “I’m...fine now, Hinata-kun. Thank you for worrying about me.”

It’s just the polite thing to say. He isn’t sure if he means it or not—not that it matters, because Hinata can’t read him anyway. He even has that much more familiar look of frustration on his face at Komaeda’s platitudes. Nothing’s really changed.

“I really don’t get you.”

But at least...

“You try,” Komaeda manages a smile, and he actually feels it’s a bit more genuine this time. “That’s more than I can ask for.”

“Just like with Naegi-kun, right?” Enoshima sing-songs. “You’re still so desperate for affection, Komaeda-kun.”

...wait.

Enoshima giggles brightly from where she was laying her head upon on his bed as Komaeda turns slowly to look at her. She smiled up at him, continuing cheerily. “Some things never change. In fact, isn’t this situation exactly the same?”

It was the same. Exactly the same.

“First Naegi-kun...” Naegi, who was nice to everyone no matter how wretched they were. Naegi still smiled for him even now.

“Now Hinata-kun...” Hinata was smiling so brightly with everyone else earlier. He’ll never smile for him like that though, never.

Enoshima’s smile widened, her index finger tracing shapes into his thigh. “Even though you went through the trouble of opening up to another person, the result is still the same. Isn’t that a shame?”

It wasn’t just random shapes actually. She was tracing letters. She was spelling it out.

“But now you have two people so I guess it isn’t all bad. Naegi-kun’s finally letting you do what you want, Hinata-kun’s even running after you... You could have it all right about now. So I guess it’s not so bad...”

She reaches for his hand—a hand that not only mirrors her own but is her own—and their fingers entwine impeccably. Enoshima held it tight, painted pink lips pulling into her brightest, loveliest beam. “But we know how this ends, don’t we Komaeda-kun? Don’t worry though, when you’re lost again after those two both end up leaving you, I’ll be there. I’ll even hold you, if you want—I’m not going to leave you, Komaeda-kun...”

It’s certain—that’s right. I trust my luck, but... “You lost.”

She lost. She’s gone—she’s dead and she’s never coming back. This is wrong—she’s wrong. I’m not dead—this is wrong. I’m not dead, I’m not... I...

I want...

“Komaeda?!”

Komaeda’s eyes shot open, and Hinata’s face was...close. Over him. Looking stricken and then relieved when he blinked several times in confusion. Held. He...was being held? Hinata’s arms are tight and warm around him, he can hear his heartbeat, and why was he on the floor in this embrace when he should be in his bed?

“Komaeda,” Hinata says, voice hushed before he lets out a heavy sigh. “You lied.”

But she lost. I’m not dead. I want...

“You’re not fine now. You said you were—you aren’t.” He’s all matter-of-fact and weirdly upset about it. But he’s still holding onto Komaeda tight like he’s worried letting him go will allow him to slip away. As if Komaeda has some other place to be other than locked up in a hospital room with only Naegi as his sole...contact.

Hinata-kun’s here though? Yes, Hinata was here holding him. Naegi. Where was Naegi?

“I... Hinata-kun?” His expression changes, from that weird upset to pity, and Komaeda’s handled more carefully than glass as he’s lifted up—almost effortlessly on Hinata’s end, when was he this strong? Surely not Kamukura—and Hinata lays him back on the bed, only flickering his uneasy glance to the unhooked tubes fluttering by the machines once before looking away in distress.  “Hinata-kun, where is Naegi-kun?”

Hinata’s gaze snaps back to him, wide-eyed surprise before hardening into something cooler. “I’ll tell you if you give me some answers first.”

Ah...huh? “Hinata-kun, you could have just asked...”

“They have to be good answers too!” What constituted as a good answer? But Hinata explained that. “I mean, I have to actually understand what you’re trying to say rather than you getting all wishy-washy like you always do...”

The frown on Komaeda’s face might have softened him a bit—making that sternness on his face fade, because Hinata adds in a much quieter voice, “Just answer me as directly as you can, please? I want to understand.”

Komaeda does nod, and the other takes a deep, deep breath.

 “Did you really want me dead?” Hinata asks, still all quiet. “Did you want us all dead? Did you really want everyone including yourself dead so badly?”

It’s strange. Strange. “I...did. I wanted...”

To eradicate despair. To spare the world from more suffering. To end it. If I could. If it was in my cards. Everything I did played into that girl’s hands.

“Got’cha,” Hinata sounds both like he expected the answer yet it still managed to disappoint him. How boring. Komaeda cracked a weak smile despite himself. “Well, you didn’t get what you wanted.”

“Not entirely true. After all,” He turned that weak smile to Hinata, managing to make it a bit wider. “That girl isn’t here, is she? She’s gone. And she’s not coming back. I don’t even have her hand anymore. Of course—I didn’t get to kill her either. I didn’t even get to see her again.”

That’s right, that’s right, that’s...

“That’s for the best.” Hinata sounded sure about that. Truly...strange. “Meeting her was an unpleasant experience. You wouldn’t have liked it anyway.”

Komaeda laughed, and oddly...Hinata didn’t look scared. He still had that look of stern certainty and...strange. Strange. Was this really Hinata? This face... Komaeda isn’t even fully sure he knows or recognizes it. “Well, it’s a shame. But that’s that. It’s not like it wasn’t a possibility I’d die first.”

“You didn’t die.”

“I didn’t, did I? I failed on that account too.” Everything I did played into that girl’s hands. But she’s not here anymore. She’s not. “I...I want to see Naegi-kun.”

“Not yet.” Hinata has the decency to look somewhat ashamed, but his expression quickly hardens. “There’s another thing I wanted to ask. Nanami. Are you aware of what happened to Nanami?”

“That was after I died, how am I supposed to know?” Komaeda whined. “Obviously, I’m aware she wasn’t actually there, but that’s it.”

“That’s it?” For whatever reason, Hinata quirked an eyebrow.

“That’s...” He swallows and nods so hard that it hurts. “That’s it.”

She wasn’t real. My efforts were utterly pointless after all. All I did was play into her hands. Are you asking me about Nanami Chiaki to make fun of me?

No—Hinata wouldn’t do that.

He must have just really cared about her.

Ha.

Haha.

Hahaha.

“I want to see Naegi-kun.” It’s funny, how he’s trying to smile and the efforts leave him shaking. “I want to see him, I want to see him, I want to see him.”

Hinata stares back at him. If his desperate face is being reflected back at him in those crimson pools—he doesn’t want to see it, so his eyes squeeze shut.

“I answered your questions,” he whispered, pitiful and childish. “Or is there something else? I would call you impudent, but given the circumstances... It’s just what I deserve, right?”

He hears Hinata’s intake of breath. He doesn’t want to think about what expression Hinata might be wearing.

“It’s not about that.”

“Why not?” He must come across as such a child. Such a stupid child. “Don’t you hate me, Hinata-kun? Surely you must. Not only did I try to get you all killed, but I was also just... I was horrible. From start to finish. I spoke of hope but I must have brought such despair. Not just to you, but to everyone, to...”

To Naegi-kun, too. I don’t have the right to be alive. Not when so many others aren’t.

Hinata just sighs. Like this outburst is nothing more than a dull annoyance. It’s enough of an insult that Komaeda opens his eyes, realizing then that his vision has gone blurry with tears. It even stings and wiping his eyes with his ruined arm surprisingly doesn’t do much.

“You weren’t horrible at first. You helped me out a lot,” Hinata mutters. He’s almost awkward about it, but shamefully, the tears won’t stop coming so Komaeda can’t look at him properly. Despite that... Despite this shameless, despicable display... Hinata places a hand on his shoulder. It’s warm to the point of searing. “I don’t hate you. Not anymore, anyway.” His hand pulls away, and Komaeda can’t catch it. “I’ll...go get Naegi.”

And because he can’t fathom having the gall to ask the other to stay, he lets his left arm fall. But... But, but, but...

“Thank you.” The blur that is and isn’t Hinata-kun pauses at the doorway. “For not...hating me. I really am sorry about everything, Hinata-kun. I’ll... I’ll try not to get in your way anymore.”

Maybe, Hinata turns to face him. Maybe he doesn’t. Komaeda can’t tell, not when he’s forcing a smile as the tears keep on running.

“P... Please take care.”

It’s funny. Hinata almost sounds choked up. That must be a mistake. It couldn’t possibly be. Couldn’t.

Let’s not think about it anymore.

--

Naegi brings with him a box of tissues. Kind, considerate Naegi. How wonderful he is—how wonderful he has always been.

If only I fell in love with you properly, Komaeda can’t help but think. He blows his nose, and there are flecks of blood in the tissue. They’re as red as Hinata’s eyes now. Before all this... I wish I had fallen for you properly, Naegi-kun.

“You’re so nice,” he can’t help but mourn. “I wonder if that’s because you’re SHSL Hope.”

“Oh, no,” Naegi laughs so easily. “I’m still as normal as I’ve always been.”

Turning her away when the rest of the world fell to her heels isn’t normal.

“Naegi-kun...” He dabs at his eyes before crumbling up the tissue in his hand. “To someone like me, you’re a superhero.”

“I’m just a guy, I swear.” He believed Naegi meant that. So, what was he supposed to think? “Komaeda-kun, I...” What was he supposed to think when Naegi looked uncomfortable, not just uncomfortable but unsure. “I want to help you not just because we were schoolmates, once, but because it’s just the right thing to do.”

What was he supposed to say to that?

Perhaps... Naegi-kun is exceptionally foolish. But...

“You wouldn’t be yourself if you abandoned anyone,” he murmured, a sardonic smile pulling at his lips. “I hate that. I hate that so much. It actually makes me feel even lower than trash.”

“S-Sorry!” Naegi really does look so apologetic. “I didn’t want to make you feel bad!”

“Of course not,” Komaeda sighed, and because Naegi was so close, because Naegi was hovering, Komaeda had the opportunity to kiss his cheek. And he took it. Inelegant and quick, a soft smack of his lips when the pressed against Naegi’s soft, round cheek. “Actually, you make me feel so good that I feel even worse. There’s no winning with someone like me. I’m just the worst, huh?”

He keeps talking, but Naegi is flushed so brilliantly. It’s funny.

He does look normal like this.

“I’m the worst,” he reiterates, and he wants to cry again but he can’t stop himself, “I like you—a lot. I love you, even.”

It’s normal to be afraid of rejection, he thinks, heart pounding so painfully. It’s normal, normal, normal, that’s why I can’t...

He can’t take it. Not here. Not like this.

Not when Naegi is smiling at him like that.

“Komaeda-kun... I...”

Not when Naegi speaks so softly, so gently, so sweetly—and takes Komaeda’s hand, squeezing. Just like how Hinata had squeezed his shoulder before.

No, exactly like that.

Just like that, he can’t bear to think about it anymore.

[nahoyaglock]

📃 AS I AM CHAPTER 1 — Surprise!

SUMMARY — You knew Kageyama Tobio since you both were in diapers, being close family 'friends'. You always wanted to befriend the quiet kid but no matter your efforts, he would never crack. When you transfer schools and meet Kageyama again, what will happen to your relationship?

PAIRING — family friend!kageyama x fem!reader

GENRE — fluff/crack/angst

WARNINGS — uh, non rlly, just enjoy :D

WORD COUNT — 2.1k

FIND THE MASTERLIST HERE

(Sent September 15th at 6:32 am)

Y/N: [Good morning Tobio!]

You turned your phone off before sitting up to stretch your arms. The warm sunrays peeked through your thick curtains, your room taking the shade of an idigo hue. You let out a bronx cheer before hopping out of bed, looking around at your nearly empty room. bzzz!

You smiled to yourself, hands finding your small hand held device before opening your notification, seeing a text from Kageyama.

(Sent September 15th at 6:33 am)

Kageyama: [Morning.]

Y/N: [How did you sleep?]

[Also, I have a surprise for you Tobiooo!]

Kageyama: [I slept fine. What is it?]

Y/N: [It wouldn't be a surprise if you told ya!]

You set your phone down gently on your drawer and you heard a light knock on your door, then the nob turning. Your mom peeked her head through the crack in your door, smiling as she watched you open your blinds.

"Hey honey," she whispered, knocking again lightly. You faced your mother with a sleepy grin, "good morning mom." You grabbed two bags from the corner of your room, slinging them over your shoulder.

"I'll load up the car mom, don't worry okay?" You walk over to the door and she moves over, allowing you to get through the door. "We leave in 20 minutes okay?" She pats your back before walking off to her room, leaving you to your job.

You slipped on your fuzzy pink slippers sitting at the front door and your turned the lock to go out. You went back and forth, in and out of the house loading up all of your luggage and baggage needed for the move. Your mom had finished her loading and was turning on the car as you grabbed your phone and locked up the house.

You climbed into the backseat with a fluffy, warm blanket for the long ride, buckling yourself up and checking your notifications.

(Sent September 15th at 6:35 am)

kageyama: [you're quiet annoying you know?]

(Sent September 15th at 7:01 am)

Y/N: [I wouldn't be y/n if I wasnt, am I right?]

After hours of sleeping, snacking and playing video games, the ride had come to an end. "We're here baby, wake up." Your mom shook your arm softly and your slowly forced your eyes open. You groaned and sat up, rubbing your eyes and yawning.

You and your mom unloaded your luggage into the empty house, your new home. It was a house way smaller than your previous one, two rooms, a bathroom and a small livingroom that connects to the kitchen. You decided that you wanted it to feel as much like a home as did your old house, so you decided to start decorating.

(Sent September 15th at 2:13 pm)

Y/N: [Hey tobio, ill tell you about the surprise in a week! :3]

Kageyama: [okay.]

As you went through some boxes you found old photos of you and Kageyama, the male with a blank expression but you could barely stay still that you were slightly blurry. You smiled at the memories of being an energetic kid and decided to put up the photos of you and kageyama on your pin board.

After your room was decently put together, missing a desk and a bed of course, you texted your friends from your old school and went to your moms room to see her folding her clothes. "Hey mom, can we go to the school to pick up my stuff?" She turned to you and smiled, putting her shirt down and standing up.

"Ah, yeah lets go now." She grabbed her keys and lead you to the car, you bouncing with excitement behind her. You opted on riding in the front with her, smiling at her as she turned the keys to start the car. The ride was filled with your conversation with your mom, talking about what you two should do since you arrived in your new home, your school and how you live closer to the rest of your family.

You pulled up to your new school and you eyed the entrance, reading the signs and inspecting the buildings. Your mom parked and unlocked the car, allowing you to hop out under the cold breeze. "Lets go honey," your mom grabbed your arm lightly and pulled you along with her, entering your new highschool. Karasuno highschool.

The principal greeted you and your mother and started to show you around the school. You saw your classes, your locker, the gym, and other important stuff that you mentally noted. Lastly was the office, where he gave you your printed schedule, needed textbooks and school uniform. With a wave goodbye you and your mom left to go back to your house, the car ride was silent this time.

—

It was the day, the day you started your first day at your new school. It's been a week since you settled into your new home, finally having a bed and a desk, some drawers and other things. You felt like you were at home, finally ready for a new start. Your mom decided to drive you to school for your first day, despite living close to the school.

"Are you excited?" She asked, eyes on the road with a proud smile. "Yeah, I am, time for a new start," you smiled, looking at your phone. "Well, im just glad you're feeling well. About your dad, you know–" your mom started. Your parents divorced, and your dad bringing in the most income, you and your mom had to leave tokyo, no longer able to afford the house that you had lived in since the age of 3.

"Mom, its fine, really. It didn't work out and thats okay, because now we have a little home of our own," you smiled widely, grabbing your bag as your mom parked at the side of the road. "Oh! Can we get a puppy?" You asked, bouncing in your seat and she laughed.

"I'll think about it. Have a good day, and if you see Kageyama tell him I said hi," she waved as you climbed out the car and you nodded at her before crossing the street and entering the school. You were so excited, seeing other students who noticed your foreign presence.

(Sent September 23rd at 6:54 am)

Y/N: [Good morning tobio!]

[I'll tell you the surprise later, are you busy after school?]

Kageyama: [morning, and yes I have volleyball.]

Y/N: [ah, okay! Have a good day today]

You spent your day alone, just taking in the new setting and adjusting to the classes you had. You had a few students talk to you when they found out you were new, but you decided to eat lunch alone that day. The day went by pretty fast and while you were slightly tired, you were still pumping with excitement. After all, you were going to see Kageyama today.

School ended, and after class you went down to your locker to put away some of your books and take anything you needed out of there. You remembered that Kageyama said he would be doing volleyball club today, and you assumed it would be held in the gym. You turned to see a tall blonde headed male with glasses from one of your classes.

"Excuse me, sir?" You tapped the male, causing him to stop and face you, removing his head phones and putting his hands in his pockets. "You're the new kid, y/n? Right?" He asked, but before you could answer he scoffed, "what do you need?"

"Ah, do you know where the volleyball club is meeting today?" You stood on one foot, bouncing slightly, which wasnt unnoticed by the male. "Im in the club, we're meeting in the gym." He answered before he turned to head to the gym.

"Is it cool if i walk with you then?" You asked, leaning to your left side to peek at the boy who scoffed before nodding. You smiled and he started walking, so you waddled after him. "Ah, whats your name?" You asked taking big steps to match the tall males natural stride. "Tsukishima Kei. Call me Tsukishima."

You realized that maybe he wasn't the type to like conversations based on the annoyance in his tone, so you just followed behind silently until you arrived at the gym. The team were doing warmups of their own already while a few males had stood around and talked amongst themselves. "Woah, Tsukishima! Is that like, your girlfriend or something?"

You saw a small male, with a noticably bright streak of blonde hair smack dab in the middle of his forehead. "Im Nishinoya Yu!" He grinned and stuck out a friendly hand, which you took. "Ah, actually im new here, I just asked Tsukishima to show me the volleyball club." You giggled at the charismatic member.

"What– what did you come to the club for? Are you trying out to be the new manager or something?" A taller, nearly bald male said, appearing behind the shorter male. Tsukishima groaned and walked off to the other side of the gym. "Ah, im actually here to see a friend." They both looked at each other then turned to the third years.

"Daichi, do you know her?" Nishinoya asked, pointing at you and the gyms attention was on you. You put your hands up and waved in defense "ah wait, im actually here to see–"

"Oh, whos this?" A familiar voice said and you turned to the entrance of the gym to see Kageyama Tobio. His eyes widened in shock and he froze, dropping his water bottle as you smiled widely at him. "Kageyama!" You shouted and ran to the male, wrapping your arms around his neck, giggling lightly as he stood frozen in shock.

"Y-y/n..?" He asked and softly pushed you off of him, looking at you with a glare that also had a hint of confusion fused in. "What are you doing here?" He asked, even though he knew exactly what was going on. He saw your uniform and heard about a new student who had transferred to their school. But why you?

"Well, I moved here and thought, why not transfer to your school?" You smiled as all the boys headed over. A orange haired male walked around you, inspecting you, bouncing around with an energetic presence. "Are you and Kageyama dating?"

"You moron!" Kageyama yelled and slapped hinata on the back of the head, causing the orange haired males expression turn sour. You jumped lightly and rubbed the short males head "ah, tobio." He whines and looks up at you and pouts at Kageyama. "Your girlfriend is way cooler and nicer than you."

"Ah, im not Kageyamas girlfriend, we're family friends," you say to the small male, and he thinks for a minute. "Ah, this is y/n?" Hinata asks and Kageyama pinches his ear, dragging him away while yelling at him. You smile and turn to the other males, seeing the captain walking over towards you.

"Hello, im Daichi Sawamura, call me Daichi." He says and bows. "Im Y/n L/n," you greet back. You were allowed to stay and watch the practice, and he even introduced you to the other team members and the coaches. The whole practice you watched Kageyama, who would occasionally shoot glances at you. You also noted that he wasn't doing really well, he seemed really distracted.

After practice ended, you stood up, slinging your bag over your shoulder and attempted to approach him, but he exited the gym as quickly as he could. You were slightly shocked and just decided to text him, hinata sneaking up on you. "Hey y/n, how do you know Kageyama?"

"Hmm, oh! Our moms are best friends, so kageyamas family was always welcome at out family get togethers," you stated, not taking your eyes off of your screen.

(Sent September 23rd at 8:05 pm)

Y/N: [hey kageyama, do you want a ride from my mom?]

Daichi called for everyone to exit the gym, so you put your phone into your pocket and exited with Hinata and Nishinoya. "So, Kageyamas girlfriend?" Noya asked and you laughed, "im not his girlfriend, again." You correct as you two walk to the bike racks for Noya and Hinata to grab their bikes.

"Hmm, well a friend of kageyamas is a friend of mine!" Hinata smiles and mounts his bike, wide and bright smile, when you hear a honk. "Ah thats my mom, I'll see you guys again!"

"Wait, do you want to eat lunch with us tomorrow?" Nishinoya asked, mounting his bike. "Ah, I'll think about it, it was nice to meet you guys!" You wave goodbye to the males and jog over to your moms car, climbing into the passenger seat.

(Sent September 23rd at 8:09 pm)

Kageyama: [no.]

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