#Deciding it’s better to acknowledge my probably too strong feelings than pretend I don’t have them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

newronantic · 3 years

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HAIKYUU!! FICS

so this is mostly gonna be for myself to keep track of my favorite fics i’ve read, but hey if anyone else wants to check some of these out then thats great

MHA one is up!!

ill keep updating this as i read more, feel free to send me suggestions!

KageHina

plain as day - emleewrites

In which Hinata has spent the better part of the last twenty years putting his heart and soul into volleyball, hoping to be recognised, to be noticed. And yet he spends all these years also thinking of himself as rather plain, beyond his lack of height and bright hair, and not really noticeable at all.

In Transit - Mysecretfanmoments

Hinata finds that he likes standing close to Kageyama on buses and trains. It doesn't mean anything--probably. Maybe.

I like the way your clothes smell - Mysecretfanmoments

Power outages, ghost stories, and the presence of a certain orange-haired boy lead to bad decision-making on Tobio's part. He'd planned to keep his crush a secret; the universe has other plans.

Chaotic Neutral - akaraka

Who's this Kageyama person on twitter and is he gay?

1: Anonymous: see title

2: Anonymous: curry king

3: Anonymous >> 1: It's the curry king, obviously. Have you been using his memes this whole time without knowing who he was?

4: Anonymous: 1) Hinata Shouyou's boyfriend 2) See above

jellyfish - mysterytwin

At the beginning of his last year at Karasuno High School, Hinata Shouyou starts a list and calls it THINGS TO DO BEFORE GRADUATION, all with high hopes that he’ll be able to complete it before his time runs out.

TsukkiYama

Try This On For Size - CloudMonsta

A lot changed for Yamaguchi Tadashi over the course of high school. He started trying on dresses, for one.

The Great Yamaguchi-Tsukishima Split (Capitalization Necessary) - WyYeuw

"But no, the current situation isn’t normal. This situation requires the full attention of the team.

No, what’s really concerning this time around, is that Yamaguchi is the one ignoring Tsukishima.”

Yamaguchi confesses. Tsukishima fucks up—like, really fucks up. The volleyball club notices and loses a week’s worth of practice.

IwaOi

Terrarium - sausaged

He's practically a professional at being proactive (lies, lies, and lies when it comes to Iwaizumi).

At this point, is he really happy with just staying best friends forever? Will he be writing journals and collecting rocks forever (he will, he knows, but that is aside from the point)?

Can he really tag his Instagram photos with #YOLO if he doesn't actually put that phrase into practice?

A story about Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime, plants, and rocks.

They Say it Rain Diamonds on Jupiter - exsao

"You're in love with him."

Hajime considers denying it. He considers deliberately choking on his drink to express surprise, to create a distraction by spitting onto the man in front of him's pristine white shirt and causing a commotion. Instead, he swallows his mouthful of soda and heaves a small sigh once his mouth is free.

"Yeah," he says instead.

He's never been good at lying, anyway.

bait and switch - Stylographic_Blue_Rhapsody

Oikawa's university volleyball team knows he's in a long-distance relationship with someone from high school. They imagine a sweet-faced girl that matches his sarcasm with patience. They are so incredibly wrong.

my heart is where it’s always been - foreverautumn

Iwaizumi places his phone down carefully.

Oikawa. Pining after someone. There’s no way.

(Iwaizumi knows he shouldn’t care who Oikawa might have feelings for, but within the span of three days, it’s somehow the only thing he can think about.)

KuroKen

Beautiful People Will Ruin Your Life - todxrxki

Kuroo Tetsurou runs a private Twitter account where he's constantly tweeting about how desperately in love he is with Kozume Kenma. Little does he know that Kenma sees all the tweets and keeps referencing the account in an attempt to get Kuroo to confess to him. / Or, five times Kuroo didn't notice Kenma hinting about his private Twitter account, and one time he finally did.

the things that get caught in the valves of his heart - ghostpot

Emotional competency is not exactly Kuroo's strong suit. Kenma finds it quite amusing.

Accidentally In Love - todxrxki

Kuroo frowns, but then slowly, the corners of his mouth lift up into a smirk. "Well, if it's so unbelievable, why don't we give it a try?"

Kenma glances up at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Let's do the 36 questions to fall in love," Kuroo says, still smirking stupidly. "If we don't fall in love, then you're right, it's bullshit. But if we do somehow..." Kuroo waggles his eyebrows. "Then I win." / Kuroo decides he and Kenma should do the 36 questions to fall in love as a joke, but they both start to realize they might actually be in love already.

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) - cosmogony

TW: major character death

Kuroken AU where the last words your soulmate will say to you appear on your skin when you turn 16, and how Kenma and Kuroo learn what this means over the course of their lives

even if you’re ahead for a bit, i will catch up - ghostpot

Kuroo first confesses when they're sticky-fingered, wide-eyed kids, and subsequently every day after that. Kenma takes a while to come around.

you’re the brake lines failing (as my car swerves off the freeway) - ghostpot

Kenma thinks that Kuroo looks ugly with his head bent against the arm of the couch like that. Then Kenma thinks that he wants to marry him, and is promptly thrown into the 5 stages of grief.

teach me the way home - icespyders

“Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because —

because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.”

Kuroo and Kenma grow up in transit.

in this universe - crossbelladonna

Living with Kuroo is sometimes, just like this. It always feels surreal like he's living half a world and a lot of things rush by too quickly. Kenma feels like he'd watched him come and go in a blink, eyes wide and wordless as the shared space went snug in an instant and far larger in the next.

All this, and a glass of water.

Beginning’s End - todxrxki

Somehow over the course of Kenma's lifetime, he’s never really had an opportunity to miss Kuroo. He’s always been there. Even when they went to different schools, Kuroo would meet him afterwards so they could walk home together, shoulders brushing, Kuroo occasionally taking the opportunity to guide him when his nose was buried in the newest video game. The thought of Kuroo not being there anymore is uncomfortable, to say the least. / Kozume Kenma's third year and the changes the year brings in himself and his relationship with Kuroo Tetsurou.

All I Want for Christmas is You - todxrxki

“Kuro,” he says. “You’re a single guy.”

“Yeah, great, thanks for pointing that out.”

“And my parents already know you, plus they already know you like guys or whatever so… what if you pretended to be my date for Christmas dinner?” / In which Kenma recruits his housemate and best friend Kuroo to be his fake date for Christmas.

BokuAka

just to miss the sun - rosevtea

Everything begins to implode when MSBY Jackals outside hitter Bokuto Koutarou crashes Akaashi's livestream.

Operation BokuAka - kazzydolyn

After spending two whole years watching Bokuto and Akaashi pine for one another, the rest of the Fukuroudani Volleyball Club has had enough. When everyone meets up for a reunion dinner, the team decides to play matchmaker and finally get the two of them together. Unfortunately, their plan starts to fall apart when they discover that Akaashi is already dating someone. And apparently so is Bokuto. What a strange coincidence.

bitter - silvercistern

He accepted his classmate's chocolates gracefully, then declared his lack of interest with as much dignity as he could muster. She deserved the courtesy. At least she'd acknowledged that Valentine's Day was all about her, and not about him in the slightest.

Because if any of these girls had taken the time to actually get to know him, they’d quickly realize something even more important than his lack of interest in girls.

And that was that Akaashi hated sweets.

In Another Life - LittleLuxray

TW: major character death

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

120% yes - pissedofsandwich

TOKYO FRANCHISE COMING SOON @OnigiriMiya

in reply to @bokkun_official

Congratulations! In celebration of your historic engagement, please DM us so we can send you a free membership code with a 25% discount on every fourth purchase!

Kissing Ace - karasunovolleygays

It happens right after training camp.

Akaashi Keiji has a secret he has guarded since he was a child. He won’t go so far as to call it a fear, but more of an aspect of himself of which he is horribly mortified. No one on the team knows about it, and Akaashi does his best to keep it that way.

But years of dodging hugs and casual contact come to naught in the blink of an eye and the swipe of a hand.

daisy rings and frivolous things (i am deliriously in love with you) - gabstar

Akaashi Keiji is in love. Bokuto Koutarou is a star. Everyone on Fukurodani has a gambling problem.

SakuAtsu

The MSBY Black Jackals Read Thirst Tweets - isaksara (syailendra)

Sakusa’s eyes are very dark naturally, sucking in all surrounding rays of light and crushing them in his pupils. For an athlete, he is rather pale. His lips look very pink in comparison. Atsumu is suddenly catastrophically aware that in this instance, ‘accent’ is a euphemism. “Good enough for your Olympic-size ego, Miya?”

(In which Atsumu realizes that he is attracted to Sakusa Kiyoomi in the most inconvenient way possible.)

A Liar’s Truth - internetpistol

In which Sakusa Kiyoomi is raised to believe that gay people go to hell but then takes one look at Miya Atsumu and thinks, then why the hell did God make them so fucking hot?

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animeomegas · 3 years

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Imagine that Sasuke is having problems with his 'future alpha', he doesn't understand some dating methods and ends up 'reluctantly' going to ask Itachi's alpha.He just blushed saying 'I can't believe I'm doing this but I need some advice'.Itachi's alpha comes home late looking happy and Itachi holding his dog asking where he's been.

Anon: I think Sasuke would only start liking Itachi's alpha after they help him stand up to a bigger, stronger, more trained betas and/or Alphas. Because I don't see him as someone who might ask for help from anyone, and his brother's alpha somehow saw them bully him and push him around, so they tell him how to one up those annoying people. (Maybe buy him ice cream or something after). This young Sasuke vs Itachi's alpha thing should be a show, because I'd sell everything I own to watch it.

(Anon 1: This is a big brain idea, anon, thank you for your service 🤭 I changed it a little, how that's okay!)

(Anon 2: I think you're absolutely right that Itachi's alpha does something big for Sasuke when he's at a low point, and it ends up changing their relationship for the better in a lot of ways. I decided not to go with bullying though, because Sasuke seemed to fit this scenario moreso. Also, ahhh, I'm so happy you're liking this mini series!!!!! I'm having so much fun writing it and it fills me with joy that other people are enjoying it just as much!!!)

...

Okay, so, Sasuke has never been the most intuitive when it comes to emotions. And he’s also never been great at acknowledging or learning about culture surround a/b/o dynamics because he’s always been adamant that he doesn’t care for it or need it.

But now Sasuke is starting to think that may have been a mistake. Because things are going wrong with this whole courting situation (that Sasuke still can’t believe is happening to him.)

Things were fine! But now the alpha courting him is getting colder and not wanting to train as much, and Sasuke doesn’t know what’s changed! He’s angry and upset about it.

He’s been brooding for about a week about the whole situation, but now he’s decided to ask someone for advice.

His friends are useless. His mother just laughed and told him it would work out if it was supposed to. Shisui is on a mission. He’d rather die than ask Kakashi sensei. So, unfortunately, he had to ask his brother, even though he was sure to get some embarrassing and invasive questioning from him. The sadist.

So, he goes to see his brother.

Who isn’t there.

His brother’s alpha tells him that Itachi is out with their pup all day running errands and taking him for his bi yearly check-ups. But Sasuke needs to know what’s going wrong and how to fix this now! He doesn't have time to wait for Itachi to be done with his stupid errands!

His brother’s alpha notices how tense he is and asks if he would like to stay for some tea, and Sasuke accepts before he thinks about what he's doing. Their relationship is much better nowadays but Sasuke can’t help but feel a little awkward around them still.

…

“Here,” they say, sliding two teacups onto the table. “You like green tea, right? It’s the only type we have in, you know what Itachi’s like with tea.”

“Green tea is fine,” Sasuke says politely if a little stiff.

His brother’s alpha sits down at the other side of the couch with their own tea, and the two sit in silence for a bit, each sipping their own tea

“Sasuke,” they say, shooting him a concerned look. “If you need me to go and get Itachi, I can. You don’t look well, he’ll come back in an instant if you ask him to.”

“No,” Sasuke answers quickly. “It’s fine… I…”

Here goes nothing.

“I’m just having a bit of trouble at the moments, is all, and…”

Itachi’s alpha nods, obviously listening intently with a look of concern on his face that is making this both harder and easier for Sasuke at the same time.

“Go on, Sasuke, I’m listening.”

“I’m sure Itachi told you about my… my er situation,” Sasuke starts, wishing he could punch himself in the face for phrasing it like that.

“That someone’s courting you?” they ask gently.

Sasuke only nods, face burning. He can’t count the number of times he’s told Itachi’s alpha to their face that he’d rather die than enter a courtship. This is so awkward, why is he doing this?

“Did they do something to make you uncomfortable, Sasuke?” they ask immediately after seeing his hesitance. “Because if they did, we can sort it out together okay? It’s not your fault.”

“No!” Sasuke immediately protests far louder than he intended too. “They didn’t… They didn’t do anything, I just… I think I did something wrong…”

Sasuke pretends to drink his tea to avoid having to elaborate any more, despite the fact that it’s still too hot.

“What did you do that was wrong?” they ask, voice still quiet and soothing and Sasuke hates how comforting he finds it. Like it or not, his instincts had branded Itachi’s alpha as ‘safe’ many years ago.

“I don’t know,” Sasuke admits, fiddling with the rim of his cup. “They seemed sad one day and I just thought they had a bad day or something, but now they’re… cold.”

“They aren’t behaving how they were behaving before?”

Sasuke shakes his head.

“Is it possible they have an issue at home or with some of their friends? It might be something in their personal life that's upsetting them.”

Sasuke shakes his head again.

“They seem fine when they’re with everyone else…” he admits. “It’s just me.”

Sasuke forces back the burn of tears he can feel behind his eyes. He will not cry. He won’t do it.

His brother’s alpha hums sadly.

“And you want to figure out what happened?” Sasuke nods. “Okay, why don’t you walk me through what happened on the days leading up to the mood change.”

And so Sasuke does.

He tells them all about how they would meet for training every day and Sasuke would bring two bento boxes for lunch, and then they would sometimes go shopping or go out to eat. Things he hasn’t told anyone about yet. And as he's talking, he really can't see what the problem is, everything seems fine! But maybe Itachi’s alpha might know some alpha thing that he doesn't. Sasuke can easily admit that it’s not his forte.

“I see,” Itachi’s alpha says after Sasuke had finished his story. Sasuke’s tea sits cold on the table next to his brother’s mate’s empty cup. “I think I know what happened.”

Sasuke looks up immediately. No way they’ve already figured it out that easily!

“They thought you were rejecting them,” Itachi’s alpha says simply.

“Wha- But…we spent everyday together! How could that be a rejection?!”

“When an alpha is courting an omega,” they start to explain. “They’re trying as hard as they can to prove to that omega that they can be a good mate.”

“I know that,” Sasuke snaps.

“Listen to me for a second, Sasuke," they softly reprimand. "So, when an alpha, particularly a younger one, is courting an omega, they are very sensitive to rejection, they look for it everywhere.”

“Why?” Sasuke asks, dumbfounded.

“Well, when I was courting your brother, we weren’t that much older than you are now, and I remember thinking that he was the most perfect person in the whole world,” their eyes take on a faraway look as they reminisce. “I was so sure that he must have had hundreds of alphas clawing for his attention every day, and so I was desperate to prove to him that I could be a good mate.

“With every gift, on every date, I would watch his reaction to everything, overanalysing every laugh and smile and frown. I loved him so much, but I couldn’t help but think that he would reject me at any moment. He was too good for me, and I knew that. It always felt like he was humouring me, especially at first.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” they laugh, unoffended by Sasuke’s harsh tone. “Looking back, I guess it was, but what I’m trying to tell you, is that I can see how some of your actions could have been taken as rejection by a young alpha who was expecting to be rejected.”

“But…” Sasuke says, looking lost. “I didn’t want to reject them, I don’t understand.”

“Here,” they continue patiently. “Let me explain it to you like this. When you went out to eat, you paid for yourself even though they offered, right? Because you didn't want to burden them?"

“Yeah,” Sasuke trails off, unsure what that has to do with anything.

“But to a young, hormonal alpha, you’re basically telling them that you don’t trust them to provide for you, the one thing they are trying most to convince you."

“But I wasn’t-“ Sasuke protests.

“I know you weren’t,” they reassure him. “But that’s the sort of thing that will run through an alpha’s head at that age when courting. Also, you told them you wanted to train with them because you thought they were strong because you wanted to compliment them, right?”

Sasuke blushes but nods.

“And that’s great to start with, but eventually they would probably start to wonder why you wouldn’t want to train just to spend time with them. And you also told them that you had plenty of leftovers to make their lunch with so that they wouldn’t feel like they were burdening you, right? But that just made them feel like you weren’t going out of your way to do something special for them, even though you were. Do you see what I mean now?”

Sasuke blinks, rapidly trying to wrap his head around all this new information.

“And I also have a guess as to what pushed them over the edge into thinking you were rejecting them.”

“What is it?” Sasuke demands. “Tell me.”

“Did they make that scarf for you by hand, Sasuke?”

“Yes,” says Sasuke hesitantly.

“And they scented it?”

Sasuke nods affirmative.

“Did you give anything back?”

“I… Just said thank you… is that not right?”

Itachi’s alpha shakes their head with a patient smile.

“A handmade and scented gift is the most important and meaningful courting gift that there is, Sasuke,” they explain. “It’s what you give to someone to ask them if they want to move from courting to something more serious, to intended mates.”

Sasuke blushes and feels some panic rising in his chest.

“I didn’t know!” he blurts, feeling the need to explain himself.

“I know,” they rush to reassure him. “But the etiquette dictates that the omega, if they wish to move onto that stage, gives the alpha a handmade and scented gift in return, no later than a week after the original gift was given. They must have been very nervous waiting for you, and very upset when you didn’t even let them down softly.”

“It’s been two weeks,” Sasuke whispers, mortified that he had missed something he should have known. This makes so much sense. The sudden depression, the awkwardness at training, the nerves after they had given him the scarf. He’s such an idiot. Against his will, Sasuke starts to feel tears burning at his eyes again. He messed everything up!

“Oh, Sasuke,” they say, scooting closer to him. They hesitantly lay a hand on his leg, and Sasuke makes no move to push them off. “It’s alright, you can fix it.”

“How?” he sniffs, furiously wiping away any tears that manage to escape. “They probably hate me now.”

“Come here,” they say, pulling him into a hug. And for the first time ever, Sasuke accepts a hug from his brother’s alpha.

“It’s alright,” they soothe. “We can fix this, I’ll help you.”

“What can I do?” he questions, feeling miserable.

“You need to make them something and scent it. Then you can explain what happened afterwards, but the gift should go a long way in smoothing over any ruffled feathers. I can help you make something, what do you want to make?”

Sasuke shrugs, still resting his head on his brother’s alpha’s shoulder.

“How about some cupcakes? Itachi and I were planning on doing some baking with the pup tomorrow, so I have all the supplies. And I’m sure we have some ribbon lying around, you can scent the ribbon and use it to tie up the box, how does that sound?”

“But what will you use tomorrow?” Sasuke asks, feeling a little better, but still red in the face.

“I can buy more, Sasuke, don’t worry, but this is a courting emergency, so we have to do it now, okay?”

“Okay.”

…

Itachi comes back from his errands just in time to watch his mate helping his little brother tie a ribbon around a box of cupcakes. The kitchen is covered in baking supplies and empty bowls of batter.

Did they bake cupcakes together?

Itachi can’t believe it. He had been trying to get them to get along better for years.

When Sasuke sees him standing in the door, he blushes and, holding the box of cupcakes to his chest, pushes past him and out the door with a quick nothing more than a quick and murmured greeting.

His pup wiggles in his arms and demands to be put down. He obliges and they immediately run to his alpha for a hug.

“Hey there, buddy, have a good day?”

“It was boring,” they complain. “And the mednin had cold fingers.”

Itachi’s alpha laughs.

“Well, I know something that might make you feel better,” they tease.

“What?! What?!”

“Uncle Sasuke made you something very special,” they say, bringing down a spare cupcake from on top of the counter, iced in his pup's favourite colour. The way his pup’s eyes widen at the sight of it, makes Itachi smile. “You can have it after dinner, okay, and next time we see uncle Sasuke we have to remember to say thank you.”

Itachi watches in amusement as his pup nods furiously and immediately runs off to go wash up for dinner, despite the fact that Itachi hasn’t even started cooking it yet.

“Did you and Sasuke bake together?” Itachi asks, still unbelieving of what he had seen.

You smile, understanding how crazy that must have been for Itachi to walk in on.

“Yes, we… had a little bonding session,” they say. “I’ll tell you about it later, I promise.”

Itachi accepts the answer despite his curiosity and joins his alpha is cleaning the kitchen so that he can start cooking dinner.

And if both of them were smiling too much, well, neither of them brought it up.

#young!sasuke #itachi #uchiha #sasuke #itachi x reader #reader insert #a/b/o #omegaverse #naruto #omega!itachi #alpha!reader #headcanons #gn reader #gender neutral reader #alpha x omega #omega!sasuke

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ggreactionsandscenarios · 3 years

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Soojin x Reader

Requested by : anon

Library Peace 🔞

There was no word strong enough to describe how you hated having to do group projects but there was one for how much you hated the partner you got paired with : to death.

Soojin was definitely your worst nightmare since the really beginning of times. She was the type of person to think her opinion was better than other's just because it was hers. You were polar opposites in all aspects and weren't eager to interact or even acknowledge each other's existence.

There was literally nothing you could rely on in her that would make her more likeable in your eyes. And even if there was you weren't sure you wanted to see it, you were fine with hating her, it was helping you be better at everything. Because everything was a competition of ideas and values between the two of you.

As you entered the library, you didn't know if you were glad she wasn't there yet or pissed because she was already wasting your time. After waiting few minutes, your foot shaking from impatience, you decided to just go ahead and do the work on your own.

If this girl didn't care about marks and bonus points you sure did and weren't about to loose any for her.

You started looking for the books you'll need, rummaging through the shelfs to get every book out. It's only when you got to the last section that you understood why you were struggling so much to find what you needed.

Soojin was standing there arms full of books, some even opened at some specific pages, she was looking for the last like you were about to.

Saying you were pissed wasn't even a quarter of the truth, you were fuming. The bitch literally made you wait like a fool while she was right there doing everything by herself.

Yes you did attempt to do the same but you had the decency to pretend to wait for her, you tried when she clearly didn't, it probably didn't even cross her mind.

Busy reading two books at the same time, Soojin didn't even spared you a glance until you shut one of your books close and even then her glance was fast and unbothered. Her eyes got back to the paper as fast as they took a look at you.

"Someone else took the last book, we'll have to start without it."

Soojin's voice was surprisingly calm and almost gentle, not that you would know how her voice normally sounds like, you tend to avoid listening to anything that could pass her lips.

The realization that she was actually ready to co-operate was making you feel slightly guilty to have judge her actions that you knew nothing about, so easily. Yet you were fast to remember who you were talking about and how annoying she has been in the past. A single slightly polite act would never change how irritating she was.

You ended up following her because even though you'll love spending your time cursing her in your mind you still had an essay to write and you weren't ready to let her get a better grade than you.

In the end having twice as much books as needed was the minimum because you couldn’t imagine how it’d went if you had to share and get closer to Soojin to be able to read.

Maybe you talked too fast and karma is indeed a bitch because not even fifteen minutes later the librarian was making her way to the both of you and asking you to give back the extra copies because other students needed them.

Seeing that Soojin wasn’t willing to move, you were the one making the sacrifice, giving her the books.

You tried to work only using your sheet of paper and what you already wrote but of course you couldn’t just passed out on writing the quotes and understanding the context. After a minute you abdicted.

“Could I borrow one of your books please ?”

Soojin took her time finishing to write her sentence before looking at you in the eyes and answering simply.

“No.”

Even though you knew she wasn’t someone nice on a regular basis you were astonished by her answer, she clearly didn’t give a fuck about doing the work as a pair. You were ready to just leave when she added somehing.

“But you can sit beside me. I won’t bite you.”

You sighed, but did stand up to sit beside your rival.

“If that sigh was about the no biting part, I’m all about changing it, I wouldn’t mind biting down that neck.”

That was unexpected, you thought and terribly sexy in a way. You wouldn’t deny that Soojin was extremely beautiful and exactly your type, long black hair, dancing skills given by god, overflowing confidence, tattoos and so on.

Without you knowing your cheeks had reddened at the thought of how physically perfect Soojin was, that lustful glance Soojin was giving to your exposed neck wasn’t helping your horny mind either.

You tried to remember why you hated her so much but when her fingers met your tigh your mind was suddenly blank. She wasn’t even doing much but you were already embarrassingly wet.

On the other hand Soojin was perfectly and terribly calm, way too calm compared to how crazy this situation was. She looked unbothered and even when her hand got from above your knee to your inner tigh, she didn’t even look at you as if it was completly normal for her to touch you that way.

As much as you internly claimed that it was crazy, you had no intention in stopping her. Sure she was your ‘ennemie’ but maybe the ‘hate’ you seemed to feel towards her was nothing but frustration because you were sure you couldn’t have her.

Her hand making her way inside your panties was telling you otherwise though. Seems like you actually could have her but this realisation hit you enough for you to grab her wrist and stand up, making her turn to you.

“What are you doing ?”

Soojin looked at you confused before answering.

“What does it look like I’m doing ? Because I thought it was pretty clear until now.”

“Well yes I know what you’re doing but why ? Aren’t we suppose to hate each other ?”

Soojin escaped a laughter and stood up, taking a step closer to you in the process.

“Oh yeah ? I don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“Well you did get back at me everytime I say something though.”

“I thought we were just flirting.”

“Oh...”

Saying you were shocked would be an understatement, she didn’t hated you. You didn’t get to think much more, stopped by lips crashing on your own. The gentle kiss didn’t last long, Soojin breaking it to look at you. Her arms were on both sides of you, caging you between her and the bookshelf.

“Can we go back to what we were doing now ?”

“Yes.”

The word escaped your lips before you could process anything and you couldn’t think about it after because Soojin’s tongue was asking entrance in your mouth and that was way more captivating than thinking right now.

Soojin didn’t even needed to fight to be the one dominating the kiss, everything seemed way too unreal for you to take the lead. Yet you weren’t mad about it, her tongue was dancing the sexiest dance ever with yours.

You were wondering if someone could see you even though you were in a pretty secluded area. A thought that was cut off once Soojin’s mouth began traveling down your neck to your colarbone, letting a moan escape your mouth as she bite you.

The hell did you care about being seen, right now the only thing that mattered was Soojin fingers playing with your clit while her mouth was playing with one of your nipple.

You didn't even remember when she unbuttoned your shirt but she sure did and was now enjoying seeing and touching your breast.

The rhythm of her fingers over you clit was terribly slow not letting you reach orgasm the slightest bit. Well that was until she finally decided to slip a finger into your dripping core earning a loud moan from you.

She stopped her movements to scold you.

"We are in a library, you should know that you cannot scream here baby. I'm the only one who can hear you moan and whimper under my touch, understood ?"

Your mind was messed up, you just wanted to cum so you nodded wanting her to keep going at all cost. Which she did.

Not even minutes after she got back to pleasing you, she had to muffle your voice as you cummed all over her fingers.

Her hand circled your waist keeping you from falling while she was putting your shirt back on and straightening your pants.

She didn't talk until your breathing calmed down, wanting you to be able to respond to whatever she was about to say.

For some reason now that you were looking at her you noticed how she wasn't that confident anymore.

"I.."

You cut her off by kissing her, something you madly wanted to do since earlier but didn't had the chance to.

The kiss took her by surprise, shading her cheeks in pink. You didn't know what the sudden shyness was about but you did find it cute that after giving you the biggest orgasm your friennemy was suddenly becoming shy.

"What was that about ?"

"I thought that was pretty clear what it was about, I kinda like you."

Hey, here it is finally ! I made it slightly longer than expected but I had to put Soojin's duality in it, hope you like it 😁🤞 Give feedback. -Ael

#(g)idle soojin #girl group #kpop girls #girl group scenarios #seo soojin #soojin #soojin smut #soojinxreader #soojin x reader #(g)idle #(g)i-dle #(g)i-dle smut #soojin scenario #soojin imagine #seo soojin x reader #(g)i-dle scenarios

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notmrskennedy · 3 years

Text

Friendliness

A/N - ha so i just wrote this - no editing we die like men. here’s the alternate ending to my other post Likeability (this one is the more predictable one y’all will probably like whoops) if you’ve read the other one, just skip to the end it’s all the same in the middle

Summary - The Team meets a very unfriendly scientist which Spencer’s taken a fancy to

W/C - 2.9k (whoops)

Warnings - Mild Anatomy/bones/etc discussion, a pinch and change of swearing

----

Luke is holding his stomach in his hands. He could usually pride himself on keeping his cool, keeping his head—and stomach—together during a case. He’d seen enough dead bodies that this shouldn’t have thrown him like he’d just sailed twelve foot waves in a dingy.

But he is, after all, standing over a mass grave. Watching a too giddy scientist dig up the bodies.

You’ve captured everyone’s attention, for various reasons. Rossi is vaguely amused by your joyous shouting of bones and your rat moustached assistant. Luke can’t tear his eyes away from the car wreck—are you supposed to swing bones around like baseball bats? Reid seems more interested in your bad jokes and coveralls than he is in solving the case.

The rat assistant—Stewart Walsh—squeezes between Luke and Reid, scuttling like some kind of diseased turtle. “Doctor Y/L/N!”

You barely stop pouring over the mud covered pelvis in your hands to even acknowledge him.

“I just thought you should know that Dr. Evanston just got here.”

You look up, toss the bone to him, and snort. “Tell him the soil samples are four miles due east from here.”

“What’s wrong with Evanston?” Luke asks to no one in particular it seems, waving Stewart off to run for a group of approaching nerds in coveralls.

Ignoring the question or maybe Luke, you just turn back to your search. Elbow deep in mud, being nice must not have been on the to-do list. Reid leans over, hands in his pockets, and whispers, “Evanston stole one of her research papers. I thought he was going to get his teeth kicked in—“

“Skull!” you holler. Luke isn’t stupid enough to miss the glare reserved for the sheepish Dr. Reid.

He clears his throat. “Thoughts so far, doctor?”

“I’m thinking beetles,” is all you say before turning back to your skull. Luke might not know many scientists, but he doesn’t think that most of them look at human skulls like its the Mona Lisa. Like this fat piece of bone held the answers to the universe inside its empty eye sockets.

“Beetles?” Luke coughs. Rossi just shakes his head. Pretends this isn’t a conversation he’s having. Reid is still studying you like Luke might study infiltration schematics. Stewart runs up, out of breath, very rose coloured.

You’re eyes are sparkling as you wade over to them with a new radius bone in your hands. Everyone bends like they know what they’re looking at and you point along the edge of the bone. “It’s a subtle difference but these bones have been cleaned before being buried. My guess is carrion beetles. They’re very hard workers. And—“ you switch to pointing at the radial head— “minute scoring and kerf marks. These look pretty old, so I’m assuming we’re getting close to the bottom.”

“So our unsub dismembered his victims,” Rossi begins, “then cleaned the pieces?”

You nod and hand off the bone to a very blushing Stewart. “I won’t know for sure until I’ve had a chance to examine all the bones. There’s nothing definitive yet. What a hobbyist though, right?”

You chuckle to yourself and dive back into fishing out more finger and wrist bones. Luke turns, runs his hands over his face, and hikes a thumb over his shoulder. “Where did we find her?”

Rossi shrugs, “FBI easter egg hunt.” Luke blinks, while Rossi chuckles at his gullibility. “Come on, the doctor’s the best in the field. Good kid, I can tell.”

“Y/N’s great,” Spencer absently adds on, too busy staring at you. You’re explaining different types of dismemberment to Stewart like you’re discussing the rain. Luke grips onto his stomach just a little tighter.

“Y/N, huh?” Luke teases, momentarily forgetting the unsettling feeling in his gut about you. “You two, uh, friends or something?”

It’s Reid’s turn to stumble. “Yeah, but it’s—we’re just—we’re just—.”

Rossi shakes his head, slaps Reid on the shoulder. “Oh yeah, just friends. So, tell me. Do you talk about dismemberment before or after you make out?”

JJ wants to beg Emily not to make her go down into the basement. You’re down there. She knows it’s childish to be this avoidant—you are just a person after all. A creepy, psychopathic weirdo that makes JJ’s gut churn. She gets why Spencer’s taken to you—shared love of science and random trivia. She does. But that doesn’t mean JJ enjoys the cold ass morgue, smiling along as you ramble. Most of everyone’s limited contact with you has involved random facts and Stewart’s too intimate knowledge of fracture patterns.

There had been ten minutes of reassurance from Emily that you were, in fact, not a horrible person. Ended with JJ making the cold and dark trek down to the morgue. She couldn’t imagine working down here all day long. No one to talk to, no one to strategise with, no where to go. Maybe it suited you. No one would have to listen.

“—don’t know what to do!” echoes across the bottom of the stairwell, the morgue’s doors cracked open. The distress breaks JJ’s heart. Your voice stops her dead in her tracks.

“They don’t hate you,” Spencer’s voice comes after. Gentler, softer. “They—they just don’t know you yet.”

“They don’t want to, Spence!” and JJ winces with the words. It always hurt more when the truth came out in that tone. “I get it! You know? I work with human remains and don’t bring my people skills with me when I’m on the job, but—that shouldn’t matter!”

JJ winces again, tries to ignore how those are nothing short of teary sniffles echoing through her ears. She leans back against the wall and has no idea what to do. Spencer had obviously been down here for hours. Knew you well enough to get the teary truth. What could she do now? Interrupt?

She’d walked into hostage situations less freakin’ stressful than this.

“You’re right,” Spencer soothes, steadfast and strong, “it doesn’t matter. This isn’t—“

“It’s not your fault,” you sigh. JJ doesn’t want to hear the strangled touch to your voice. Doesn’t want to hear the break. “They’re your friends and I’m just your—“

“Doctor!” Stewart calls and JJ could scream. You’re his what?

At least, it’s as good as any moment to intrude.

“What, Stewart?” you snapped, already broken away from Spencer with wet cheeks and stained glasses. You wipe them off haphazardly with the tail end of Spencer’s sweater sleeve—JJ couldn’t help but smile, even if it’s a little strangled.

Stewart jumps like a wet cat and tosses a bundle of files into your hands. “Beetles.”

One word snatches the tears from your face. Snatches you away from Spencer’s side for one of the dozen skeletons on the tables. There was no reason to think that she’ll get her report from you now. With a rib bone in one hand and contemplation in your features—JJ can’t decide how unnerved she is—you’re a little too concentrated.

Stewart scuttles around you. A little too attentive. A little too cherry tinted. Yep. No reports to be had from either of you. JJ turned to Spencer instead, hoping that maybe he’d be helpful. Plastered up like a billboard, JJ knows that saccharine smile isn’t going to get her anywhere.

“Spence?”

He hums, halfheartedly tearing his eyes away. “Yeah?”

“I need the latest report for Emily, but I don’t think—“

“I’ll—just a second, JJ.” Spencer grins, sugary sweet, and slips away. JJ doesn’t miss how he places a hand on your shoulder as he passes. How you barely even notice that quite intimate contact. She also doesn’t miss how Stewart’s face sours at the action, how his eyes narrow enough that Spencer feasibly should’ve noticed.

Reports in hand a minute later, JJ leans over to Spencer. Elbows him in the arm. “Stewart seems pretty jealous. Any reason for that?”

Spencer shrugs. “Wouldn’t know a thing about it.”

Rossi doesn’t have an opinion. Everyone keeps asking—oh Rossi, you’re the wisest of us all, what should we do about poor little Y/N? He doesn’t know, doesn’t care. You are just some scientist who is doing a thousand percent better job than any other forensics ‘expert’ he’s had the pleasure of working with.

Your lab doesn’t smell. You don’t smell. Is there anything more to ask for?

But he does get the brute of having to make the trek down to the morgue—god, his knees alone—and receives most of the reports from the not as horrible as everyone thinks Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. Who is joyfully humming while squinting over one of the skeleton’s hands.

“Hey, doc,” he calls and you look up at him with an adorable sort of grin. “Got anything new?”

“Sure,” you chirp. Hesitate to wave him over. “If you want the details, that is.”

Rossi shakes his head, pulls up a stool to sit next to you and your subject. “I like to have as much knowledge as I can. You never know what will lead you to your un-sub.”

You settle your elbows on the table, straighten a stray finger bone. The team shouldn’t be worried about you being a psychopath. You’re dedicated, careful, attentive. Rossi hopes that if he ever gets turned into human remains, you’re the one looking over him. There’s been more care put into one skeleton than into his three combined marriages.

“You’re in luck,” you answer, “I’ve got a lot to tell you about our attacker. You’ve got time, right?”

Rossi nods, smiles. “Plenty.”

Penelope still hasn’t met you and that kind of pisses her off. You haven’t made it upstairs once? She flies into some dingy Wyoming hovel of a police station for like a week and no one’s thought to bring you upstairs? Rude.

She’s sitting in JJ’s desk chair, waiting for her and Luke to get back from interviewing a potential lead—some ex-felon who fit your makeshift profile. Reid’s scouring over some boring geographical profile, trying not to get annoyed as she nervously—angrily—rants about the case to him. She knows he’s tuning her out, but her work’s been put on the back burner until someone comes up with something to give her.

There’s only so much a computer can find and she’s no profiler.

It’s about five minutes after Reid snapped and left to get a coffee refill, when she picks up a call from the desk. “Hello?”

Creaking metal and shuddering breathing comes first. “Set the scalpel down” comes second. She swallows, silent, and panicking. What the heck is she supposed to do? Paying attention to those hostage negotiation seminars that she definitely didn’t go to would’ve come in handy right about now.

Said scalpel clatters onto some metal table, followed by a strong, “You really don’t want to do this. Please put the gun down.”

Oh god, this is happening.

“You just—“ a male voice snips, bellowing out, “YOU DON’T LOOK AT ME.”

“I do look at you, Stewart,” you plead just as JJ and Luke clamour through the bullpen’s door. Penelope puts the call on speaker, mutes it, and screams for them.

“I don’t know what to do,” Penelope sobs professionally, “someone’s got a gun.”

JJ runs for Emily’s office while Reid returns heedlessly. Luke puts a soft hand on Penelope’s cold one and squeezes. Newbie or not, it’s appreciated as the man’s voice returns. “I’ve tried for so long to get you to—to just—just look at me! I’ve done so much!”

“I know, Stewart,” you ease and Reid tenses. Nearly drops his coffee. “It’s not your fault. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Yeah,” Stewart sobs; Penelope can only imagine how crazy this kid must be.

“Did you leave all those bodies for me, Stewart?” you question and everyone holds their breath. Luke squeezes harder on her hand. Reid’s twitching like a rabbit’s nose, a death grip on his mug, frozen as a Michigan pond.

Stewart sniffles. Probably nods. Penelope doesn’t know whether to run or sit or cry. She decides it’s probably cry, but instead her fingers start moving to record the call, trace the office origin.

“It was a great puzzle, Stewart, it was really genius. It was a fun case to follow, you know that.” You swallow hard, metal tinkles through the speaker. Please, Penelope begs, don’t let them kill each other. I haven’t met the doctor yet!

“Why did you kill these girls, Stewart?” your voice is so gentle and lulling Penelope almost forgets that she’s listening to you try to save your own life.

“I wanted you to look,” he says, sniffles. “I wanted you. I want you, Y/N. I want you to love me.”

It’s either her computer beeping or someone falling through a table or a gunshot. She doesn’t know. She’s crying too hard to care.

Tara doesn’t know when she started to run—probably just after JJ, Luke, and Reid barrelled passed her by the bathroom shouting about the situation—but she’s almost to the morgue doors, right on Reid’s heels. Lord almighty, she feels so stupid. She’d had enough little one on one chats with Stewart to know he was some sort of psycho in disguise. To know that something was wrong with that kid. No one could last more than three minutes with your grad student assistant without wanting to take an eyeball out—his or theirs it didn’t matter. She’d let herself believe you when you told her that all forensic anthropologists seem like that. That there was nothing to worry about.

Nothing to worry about her ass.

Luke’s the first to storm the morgue, expecting what Tara is: you, dead, on the floor with Stewart on the brink of killing himself. But they stop and they stare and Reid beams on with the absurd look on your face.

You’re shaking with rage, pointing a gun at a very unconscious, crumpled, bleeding Stewart Walsh. Your teeth are bared in what Tara would consider out of a comic book—ludicrous and of someone who’s completely lost their mind. JJ makes the mistake of asking if you’re alright.

“Alright?” you chirp, feral and ravenous. JJ and Luke shrink back as you shout, “I lived in Honduras for three years! This isn’t even the worst thing that’s happened to me. It’s my third fucking kidnapping!”

“T-third?” Luke croaks.

“Third!” you shout again and recklessly set your gun on the table. Spencer grins, which sets you off further. “I’ve been nice. I’ve been accommodating. But this is my fourth psychotic grad student! I fucking swear—!”

Stewart groans—thank god he’s alive—and Spencer, thankfully, rushes forward to catch you before you can take anything else out on the kid. Tara’s heard rumours about mysterious other instances of your being under arrest. Illegal transportation of goods was one thing, police brutality was another. The scalpel sticking out of his knee is bad enough.

She helps Luke haul Stewart to his feet, reeking of desperation and a much needed psych eval. JJ follows close behind, closes the morgue doors behind them. But not before they hear your muffled sobs and Spencer’s smiling.

“You got him, Y/N.”

“No, Spence,” you correct, and Tara can’t help but be proud, “I kicked the snot out of him.”

Emily is barely awake when she sees it. JJ’s soft breathing next to her is lulling by itself, let alone if you add in Rossi’s rhythmic snoring and Luke’s idle whispers of sleep talk. Emily could do with some sleep and maybe a few days off. They could all use a few days off, especially after coming to terms with the fact a grad student had killed 12 women just to get a little action.

From a scientist who freely admitted to enjoying the company of bones over real people.

Alive people.

No wonder Stewart had done what he’d done.

Emily turns in her spot, lays back against the wall of the airplane and the seat. After nearly five decades—she’s never thinking about that again—of plane rides, she can comfortably say she can sleep anywhere. With any amount of noise, or cold, or pain.

But her eyes are accidentally open when she peaks around the seat cushion. Spies the Wild Dr. Reid in his natural habitat, reading some ridiculously long book and…carding his fingers through your hair? He’s got a lock curled up around his finger, gently twisting it as he reads. You’re sleeping—knocked the fuck out—in his lap, gripping loosely onto his leg.

You deserve the sleep, Emily decides with a smile. You’d worked the hardest on the case, up for nearly four days with as little rest as you can manage. How Stewart managed to stay awake enough to attack you is beyond Emily. She’s missed out on a few hours just today and she’s losing the battle with her eyelids.

No one ever asked her opinion of you. Probably didn’t have to. You were not the easiest to like, but you’d captured her respect and a bit of her heart when you’d said at the beginning of the case: “I’m an excavator by trade—I’m at archeological digs most of the time—so it’s hard to wrap my head around the fact that these ladies are murder victims. I don’t think I’ll sleep until I’ve got names for them. And maybe the murderer on my table.”

Emily understood the unease, the apprehension. Why everyone was relieved when you’d turned down the plane ride she’d offered you. How they all bit back groans when Emily had insisted. But they’ll have to get used to it, Emily thinks and she settles again. Because they’ll see you again. No doubt about it. The way you’re wrapped up around Spencer, how you hold tighter when the jet bounces a touch, says just that much anyway.

#no editing lads #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #reid #reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

Did Ivan and Fedyor ever have, like, one of those big first fights where there is this uncertainty of "are we over now?" ? I mean, they would be alright in the end, but between Fedyor's overthinking and Ivan probably not having a lot of experience with relationships, there would be room for them worrying for a time after it.

Sequel to this and prequel to this. Set, as usual, in Phantom!Verse.

Moscow, 2013

June 30, 2013, is not a good day. In fact, it might be the worst of all the days of Fedyor Kaminsky’s life to date, and it is made absolutely no better by the fact that he’s long known it was coming – he just hoped, however vainly, that it wouldn’t. Three weeks ago, on June eleventh, the Duma unanimously passed the law formally entitled “For the Purpose of Protecting Children from Information Advocating For a Denial of Traditional Family Values,” with only one abstention and no dissenting votes, and President Putin is going to ceremoniously sign it into law today. It’s more pithily known as the “anti-gay law,” and it basically prohibits anything related to acknowledging that homosexuals exist in Russia. Fedyor has been anxiously following its progress with his activist friends in their group chats, all of them praying for some last-minute miracle to swoop in and knock it off course. Now that’s not going to happen. He has no idea what is going to happen, but to say the least, it won’t be good. He’s taken some body blows before, but this one sucks.

Fedyor vacillates wildly between wanting to watch the signing ceremony just to scream obscenities at it, and wanting to hide under the covers with the pillows over his head and cry. He texts frenetically with his friend Lyosha, who lost his position at Perm State University a few months ago for daring to do research about LGBTQ people, and is already planning to head into exile abroad. Does he have to do that too? Fedyor has lived in Russia his entire life, even if he has traveled internationally and has lots of foreign friends. He could stay. He could try to fight this thing somehow. He could do more. He should do more.

But how?

When Ivan gets home from work at six o’clock that night, that’s where he finds Fedyor: sitting on the living room floor under a quilt and neurotically eating chocolate biscuits, texting and crying. He drops his backpack and rushes over. “Fedya? Fedya! What’s wrong?”

“He signed it,” Fedyor says flatly. No more elaboration is necessary. “So now we’re fucked.”

Ivan looks troubled. He rocks back on his heels next to Fedyor and searches for the words. Then he says, clearly trying to be helpful, “Maybe not. Nobody has to know about us. If we just keep on like before, go about our daily lives, it will be all right. We are not important people. Why would they bother with us?”

“What?” Fedyor wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and lurches upright, shedding the quilt and a shower of cookie crumbs. “What are you talking about? Just – deny ourselves and go back in the closet and pretend we’re not here, that those assholes won? Go out, but make sure I never hold your hand walking down the street or dare to pretend that we are together? I don’t want to be afraid every second we’re out in public, Vanya! I don’t want to be wondering if maybe they’ll look at my emails or cook up some other reason to come after us! Lyosha already got fired before this even officially passed, and – ”

“Lyosha was a radical beforehand,” Ivan says dismissively. “It wasn’t because of this, I’m sure. So what? He’ll get a fancy position somewhere else. The West will love to take in the gay Russian, persecuted by the barbaric Putin regime, to show off how humane and enlightened they think they are. He will be fine.”

Fedyor looks at him as if he has two heads. “That’s how you’re reacting to this?”

“What am I supposed to do about it?” Ivan shrugs. “We have to make the best. What else are we going to do? Leave Russia?”

“Maybe we have to. What other choice do we have?”

“Stay?” Now it’s Ivan’s turn to sound like he’s talking nonsense. “Russia is our home!”

“Look, Vanya. I know you and I think differently about things, and we’ve gotten used to that. But I can’t – I physically cannot – stay in a place where I am criminalized for existing, for loving you, for being afraid that something will happen to us. We have to go.”

“No.” Ivan’s voice is colder than Fedyor has ever heard it. He sounds like a stranger. “No, we don’t. That’s crazy talk. Where would we go? America?”

“At least America doesn’t have this law!”

“America has no law that is helpful for us!” Ivan shouts. “And I’m not going there. The end! You make that choice, Fedya. Exile, or me?”

There’s a horrible silence in the wake of that pronouncement, as they stare at each other and Ivan instantly looks like he wants to bite it back, but it’s too late. Fedyor turns on his heel and marches away in frozen silence, refusing to utter a single word to Ivan for the rest of the night, even as Ivan tries to apologize and coax him into speaking again. Finally, taking the hint, he takes his things and silently goes to sleep on the couch, and Fedyor lies in their bed, staring at the ceiling and tossing and turning. Ivan didn’t mean that, right? Or maybe he did? Flee Russia, start a new life somewhere across the sea, but leave his boyfriend behind? Until recently, he thought Ivan Sakharov was the love of his life. Maybe he isn’t. Or even more terrifyingly, he is, and Fedyor will have to give him up anyway.

The rest of the week is just as bad. Ivan leaves early for work and keeps to himself when he gets home, while Fedyor starts Googling the U.S. asylum-claim process and reaching out to North American-based friends who can help with logistics. He spends hours on the computer, takes reams of notes, and doesn’t feel any better. Is he planning this for them or for him? He needs to answer that question like, now, and yet the prospect fills him with sickening dread. He cries himself to sleep with the bedroom door shut, and hears awkward shuffling in the corridor outside, like Ivan is listening and desperately wants to come in, but doesn’t think Fedyor wants him there. That’s even worse.

Finally, on Saturday night, Fedyor decides that they can’t go on like this. He drags himself out of his cave of blankets and cooks a nice supper, while Ivan goes for his usual afternoon workout at the gym, and when he comes back, he blinks. “Fedya? What’s this about?”

“We need…” Fedyor’s throat is a desert. “We need to talk about us.”

Those six little words are usually the kiss of death in any relationship, and he has no idea what’s about to happen next, but Ivan’s face wrenches in half like a torn piece of paper. He opens his mouth, shuts it, shakes his head furiously, and comes to a sudden and unassailable decision. With that, still in his gym clothes, he drops his bag and goes to one knee on the creaky wooden floor of their kitchen, in this humble sixth-floor Moscow flat that is the first place Fedyor ever knew pure and perfect happiness. “Okay,” he says. “How is this for a start. Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky, will you marry me?”

Fedyor stares at him, utterly blankly, seized with the horrible fear that Ivan is making fun of him. “Have you – are you – are you serious?”

“Yes.” Ivan reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small box. “I wanted to do this in a different way, but maybe this is better. Fedya, I don’t – I can’t – I don’t want to live without you. I’ll even move to America if you want to. I’m no good without you. I can’t. Please.”

Fedyor continues to stare at him. Then finally he moves closer, as Ivan holds out the ring with a look of utter, silent entreaty, his heart wrung out and raw in his eyes. “Are you – ” Fedyor’s voice is a whisper. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Ivan says again, strong and steady. “More than I have ever been about anything.”

Fedyor starts to answer, and simply can’t. He starts to shake from head to toe, and Ivan scoots forward, still on his knees, and wraps both arms around Fedyor’s waist, burying his face in Fedyor’s stomach. Fedyor clutches hold of him and sinks down, the two of them barely making a sound. Finally, he whispers, “You hate America.”

“I don’t,” Ivan says. “Not really. But either way, I love you, Fedya. And I’m choosing that.”

Fedyor grips Ivan’s face in his hands and kisses him thoroughly, then remembers that he still technically hasn’t accepted his proposal, and he should do that. He holds out his right hand so Ivan can slip on the plain band, with the promise to buy him a nicer one once they get to wherever they’re going. He’ll help with arrangements, he promises. Whatever Fedyor needs him to do.

They board an Aeroflot flight, Moscow Sheremetyevo–New York JFK, on the evening of August 3, 2013, with all their worldly belongings either in the cargo hold or waiting to be shipped over by Fedyor’s parents. They hold hands in the terminal, unobtrusively, and when they get on the plane. And even as the jet engines roar into takeoff and the lights of his homeland fall away into the clouds for what might be the last time in who knows how long, Fedyor Kaminsky can’t help but feeling, once again, ready to start anew.

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #fivan #a phantom in enchanting light #pel asks #anonymous #ask #fivan ff

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blushnote · 4 years

Text

rich girl | m.

⟡ word count: 6,708. ⟡ genre: smut, a bit of angst if you squint. ⟡ contains: a blowjob, facefucking, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, shower sex, copious use of petnames, just a whole lot of sin.

summary: wonwoo likes to call you a rich girl, and you hate it because it’s true. in fact, you hate a lot of things: your friends, your parent’s attitude, the way your life is supposed to be perfect even though you’re miserable. not much makes you happy, except for a punk boy who you can’t even be with.

a/n: this is a reupload because for some reason tumblr wasn’t showing me my own posts? anyways, sorry for the wait!! enjoy hehe.

your parents don’t like wonwoo.

even better – they don’t like the fact that you like him.

wonwoo isn’t supposed to be someone you like. he’s kind of foul-mouthed, awfully conceited, and he probably makes deals with the devil in his spare time. he likes to hang around those dimly lit corners at night, just outside the local shops, puffing from a cigarette beneath the dusty street light and chuckling amongst his friends. they all hang out together. they’re very tightknit in the way that they only meet on the corner to smoke and laugh and then head their separate ways when it gets late enough.

honestly, you didn’t think you were going to like wonwoo either. most friday nights you go out for drinks with the daughters of your mom’s friends. she’s a business lady, very professional, makes good money, and has the politeness and etiquette of a true monarch. her friends mirror her every quality, and so do their daughters. you like them, even when they snap at you to sit straighter or give you unnecessarily stern glances while you swallow your alcohol in inhumane gulps. they’re great, but they give you a headache.

also, they’re the only friends you have, even if they’re not very good ones. they once left you to get home by yourself when you got too “drunk” for their liking. not wanting to soil their sophisticated reputations, they literally abandoned you after your wobbly trip to the bathroom to fix your makeup. you came back to an empty table. when you left the bar, this unknown man tried to take you by the arm, promising that there was a telephone just around the corner for you to make a call. your cellphone was dead anyways.

“what the fuck are you doing?”

there was a deep, displeased voice that echoed from the street corner as the mystery man tugged you away. you couldn’t help but stumble in your saint laurent heels. they didn’t add much height, yet you felt as though you were walking on stilts. quickly, you made eye contact with wonwoo. he stepped away from the pole and removed the cigarette from between his bubblegum lips, just before he adjusted the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. the air was cold, so he wore a beanie that pulled his hair back.

the man stuttered in response. he attempted to configure a convincing statement, but wonwoo cut him off.

“do you know him?” wonwoo asked you directly. his friends were silent as they crowded the corner, but they looked ready to pounce.

“n-not re-really, no.” you fought to respond sluggishly.

wonwoo then narrowed his eyes at the man who was digging his nails into your skin.

“do you know her?” the man countered. he sounded almost petulant.

“no,” wonwoo admitted impassively, “but i’m not an idiot, and i’ve hung around here long enough to see my fair share of fucking weirdos. go slink back to the other side of the street before i shove my cigarette past your eye socket and into your cranium.”

honestly, wonwoo’s words almost turned you completely sober. the man looked like he wanted to argue, but his pathetic type doesn’t usually put up a fight when their plans are directly thwarted. he released you, and melted away into the night like a sad, shrinking shadow.

“do you need to use my phone?” wonwoo was already revealing it from his pocket.

you nodded. you knew your mother would explode into fumes if you called her at this hour, so you dialled the local taxi service and decided to wait right outside the bar. you wanted to thank wonwoo for intervening when he did. he didn’t necessarily look like a bad person, but his tainted mouth and snarky expressions didn’t exactly shift him into the light.

“thanks,” you told him as you handed over his phone, “i-i appreciate what you dd-did.”

wonwoo made the effort to blow the smoke from his cigarette away from your face.

“it’s fine,” he shrugged, “happens all the time. figured i’d just stand here and be useful i guess.”

so there is a reason you’re always at this corner.

that’s what you wanted to say, but you were too shy, too foggy, to articulate any other acknowledgement apart from a tight-lipped smile. since then, you knew wonwoo would be someone you liked.

wonwoo liked to call you a rich girl. it bothered you, mostly because it’s true. you wore diamonds in your ears, pricey jewels on your fingers, dressed in luxury outfits and designer products. you lived a lavish life because your parents were well off, but it’s not like you tried to rub it in everyone’s face. in fact, you were quite modest, and you only wore the jewelry because your mother never stopped draping you in it. after your first encounter with wonwoo outside the bar, you greeted him again on the street upon exiting the floral shop.

he was alone, not even smoking a cigarette, instead sucking on a vibrant, cherry red lollipop. you could smell its sugary coating the second you stood in front of him.

“hey, rich girl.” he nodded. “how’s life treating you?”

the only reason you approached him was out of gratitude. you had already thanked him for his intervention that one night, but you wanted to thank him again now that you weren’t intoxicated and cloudy in the head. notably, your expression soured at his words.

“rich girl? that’s not my name.”

wonwoo looked you up and down skeptically. his eyes were a strong, earthly shade of brown behind his glasses, but in that afternoon sunlight, they flared up slightly, and the colour was more molasses-like. thick and sweet.

“are you joking?” he seemed like he wanted to laugh, and swirled the lollipop to the opposite corner of his mouth. “babygirl, those heels you’re wearing are more than my rent.”

you didn’t know why, but you were transiently overwhelmed with the urge to drop to your knees and let him fuck your mouth right there on the corner. was that too soon? oh well. you already thought it. remembering you were supposed to feel disrespected at his comment, you crossed your arms, though it only accented the jaded bracelet your friend bought you as a birthday gift.

“i’m going to pretend i didn’t hear anything you just said. i wanted to thank you for getting me out of that situation last week. i thought i should tell you again, now that i’m… well… sober, i guess i could say.”

you then swallowed tightly. “do you really stand there to stop creeps from taking advantage of people?”

wonwoo shrugged. he then tousled his hair, which had been flopping in multiple directions. it was on the longer side, and seemed to be the same colour as dark, silvery ashes, though the roots were pretty much black. his hair looked so soft and springy. you almost wanted to comb it down for him.

“i’m just at the right place at the right time.” he said.

what did that even mean? you simply accepted his response and pressed on.

“well, i wouldn’t mind repaying the favour one day. do you want a coffee or something?”

“no.” wonwoo replied sharply. “you could do me one better and slip me a couple hundred from your pretty bank account. i’m trying to get the local black tar heroin dealer off my back.”

you nearly choked.

“wha-what? are you… serious?”

wonwoo maintained his staid, emotionless expression, and you were really starting to believe that there was a black tar heroin dealer running rampant in the streets that might pop wonwoo if he didn’t pay him off. but then a gradual smile pulled up his lips, and you wanted to retract your entire offer.

“yes, it’s a joke. you’re too easy. the only drugs you’d find in this part of town is the ibuprofen for your grandma’s arthritis. you don’t get out much, do you, rich girl?”

you gaped widely at him.

“careful, baby,” he smirked, and he suddenly brought his hand out, raising your chin with his cold fingertips to close your mouth. “don’t breathe too much of this cheap air. it’s not filtered.”

in a bubbling, festering haze of anger, you snapped his hand away.

“for your information i—,”

abruptly, you heard your name echo from down the street. turning around, you watched your mother exit the floral shop, carrying a pale green wrapping of scarlet poinsettias. they were so huge that the petals almost covered her entire face. it wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t have picked a worse time to come looking for you, especially when she was cloaked in the thick warmth of her sable fur coat. you sighed deeply and faced wonwoo again. he’d lost his lollipop, attempting to spark up a cigarette instead.

“aren’t these just gorgeous?” your mother swooned, running her fingers over the butter-soft petals. “they certainly cost a pretty penny to get such an exquisite arrangement, but i couldn’t help myself!”

you wanted to sink straight into the earth. wonwoo was looking between you in pure amusement as he crammed his lighter inside a pocket on his jeans. your mother didn’t even seem to notice him until he took his first puff, the distinct potency of the smoke making her nose scrunch.

“a-and who’s this, dear?” she couldn’t even mask her discomfort as she inquired you about wonwoo. at that point, you hadn’t even known his name yet.

“wonwoo,” he introduced himself, “a new friend of your daughter.”

“oh, how lovely,” she nodded at him while forcing a crooked grin. “honey,” she then placed her hand on your shoulder and spoke closely into your ear, “your father is parked down the street. we need to leave soon and get these out of the cold, so please finish your conversation quickly.”

as soon as she slipped past you and began striding swiftly toward the car, you could already taste the muddled defeat on your tongue. if you weren’t protruding the mirage of a spoilt rich girl then, you certainly were now. at least he didn’t blow any smoke into her face, though that didn’t diminish the fact you were going to receive a lengthy lecture in the car.

“why would you say we’re friends?” you scolded wonwoo.

“because you don’t have any.” he responded matter-of-factly while tapping some ash off his cigarette.

“that’s not true! what do you even know about me anyways, apart from that i’m rich.” you made sure to incorporate in-air quotations.

wonwoo pushed back the silver tresses dancing in front of his glasses, embracing the cool, afternoon current against his face.

“not a lot,” he admitted, “you come for drinks every few fridays. sit at the table looking like you hate your life and all the people in it. then you leave with your phony little rich clique.”

“not to be rude, wonwoo—” you almost wanted to laugh; you came here to thank him. now that ship had completely sailed— “but you’re kind of a dick.”

he then had the nerve to roll his eyes. “you’d drop to your knees and suck mine in a second, babygirl. now didn’t your mother say you should hurry up and get in the car? the princess can’t be out of the palace i’m guessing, especially not to talk to assholes on street corners.”

what else could you do apart from swallow your own frustration, bite your lip, and brush past him? there was nothing. it was too bitter to stand outside anyways. a strengthening winter wind was beginning to pick up from the north, the sting making your eyes water. at the same time, your cheeks were hot metal. if no one were on that street, you certainly would have taken him right into your mouth and sucked him dry. he was ridiculous and cruel, but you loved the unhinged nature he unearthed in you. it was liberating in a sense.

you wondered what would become of your relationship.

“where did you say you were going again?”

you looked up from the porcelain dinner plate, in which you’d been picking at the last few crumbs of your wine reduction pineapple cake. it wasn’t your favourite dessert, though you always finished every meal out of respect for the family’s personal chef. you saw your father reach for his water glass. he took a long sip and eyed you over the candlelight and scarlet poinsettias. it was in a way that was completely and unabashedly suspicious.

“ester and i are going to the jewellers to get a custom necklace as aria’s christmas gift. i told you like five times already.”

of course, that was a gigantic lie. you and ester had already gotten the precious necklace last week, you just needed a reasonable excuse.

“and you’re coming straight home, correct?” his voice was stern and unnegotiable.

“i always do.”

“not always.” your mother chipped in as she cut a piece of the glazed cake with her fork. “you’re not going to see that one character, are you?” she always called people with less fortune characters, like they weren’t even considered to be real.

“who?” you acted clueless, and poured yourself more of the sugary, pink lemonade.

“you know who,” there was already a note of displeasure in her voice, “that boy from the corner. the one who smokes. i wasn’t very impressed by his actions.”

you started to squeeze the white cloth across your lap. “he’s trying to quit. i’ve persuaded him.”

“he won’t do it,” your father shook his head, “and he’s not right for you. i don’t want you near him.”

“and that’s why you’re coming straight home after the jewellers.” your mother continued, not allowing you the breadth to speak.

this family couldn’t get any more ridiculous, you were tempted to scream. instead, you pushed out your chair and collected the utensils sitting on your placemat. a maid passing by had scrambled to assist you, though you told her thoughtfully that you could take care of yourself. in actuality, it was the perfect time to get going, just as you could feel the anger warm your own blood to a boiling crimson. you threw on a long peacoat, a spritz belonging to a vanilla perfume, and your saint laurent opyum heels.

“i’ll be home soon!” you shouted down the marbled corridor, but it was only your own voice that echoed back to you.

your knees were beginning to lose feeling from being pressed against the sponge-like carpet of wonwoo’s bedroom, and they would probably ache like hell whenever you came to your feet again, but for the time being, you really didn’t care. your hands were braced against wonwoo’s knees as his hand tangled possessively through your hair, each of his tugs causing your scalp to burn and tingle. you were crying. you loved to be used by him, and he loved using you. especially the warm inside of your slick mouth.

“ff-fuck, that’s it, babygirl, j-just let me fuck your pr-pretty fuckin’ face.” quickly heeding his words, wonwoo bucked his hips up in a sudden snap, the head of his cock nuzzled deep against your throat.

consequently, you gagged, and there were glossy trails of your own saliva uncomfortably pooling down your chin. he bucked up again, his fingers clasping your hair even tighter. you were struggling to breath around him, white, cottony spots blurring your vision while he forced you to take him even further. you were clutching onto his knees with enough strength to bruise his pale skin. but hearing his voice, lined with lust, heavy and laboured, how it hitched when everything felt too good; you were addicted to it.

“you’re so good at this—,” wonwoo grunted through his teeth upon jamming your head down again, “m’gonna cum down your f-fuckin’ throat, baby. be a good girl n’ m-make sure you swallow a-all of me, huh?”

you learned that wonwoo was really filthy. he didn’t have a preference for where he came, though you had to regulate his carelessness. if any of your clothes even got one rip, one pulled up thread, or god forbid a stupid ejaculation stain, your mother would put your head on a mahogany plaque. wonwoo always made fun of you for belonging to a rich family, having to act like the town’s local sweetheart because one wise crack might cost your parents a lost business partner. but you knew he loved it.

the elegant daughter of a rich heir running around with the outlandish punk? he adored it.

eventually, you had to come up for breath or else you would’ve fainted between his thighs. the air gushed into your lungs and coldly filled your chest. a string of your spit was connected from wonwoo’s flushed, hard cock to your wet lips. you could hardly discern anything that surrounded you. the oxygen had yet to thoroughly circulate and the tears were creating a thick blur. wonwoo started to stroke himself while you prepared to take him once more. the empty void in your mouth was a horrible feeling.

“you look like a fucking mess.” wonwoo grinned as he noted that your body was shaking. “am i being too rough with you, babygirl? should i just jack myself off and cum all over your face instead?”

“n-no,” you suckled in a half-hearted breath, “i-i can do it.”

wonwoo smirked. “you still want it down your throat?”

you could see him clearly now. his cheeks were tinted pink, and his eyes were impossibly dark, glittering in anticipation. without thinking, you nodded eagerly, knowing this was what you wanted. he then tapped his cock against your swollen lips, to which you opened up again and calmly took him as deep as you could. he watched your eyes glister with more tears before he started thrusting up into your mouth. his fingers were gentle. they brushed the stray spindles from your face, now destroyed by tears and drool.

“i’m surprised your tears aren’t pure gold,” he laughed, “i guess you aren’t so special.” your spine tingled as his hand crept back through your hair. “m’gonna make you cry even harder, baby.”

his grip had turned to solid iron against your scalp. you got less than a sliver to brace yourself for his unrelenting treatment, in which he pushed you straight down on his cock and kept your face right where he wanted it. with his hand against the back of your head, wonwoo snapped his hips upward, feeling you immediately gag in response. then, he unleashed on you, using your mouth as a mere fucktoy, getting all his pleasure’s worth from you in each of his hard thrusts. everything was so overwhelming and rapid.

wonwoo couldn’t help the mantra of guttural, taunt curses. he started to moan even, his deep voice cracking the second he felt his sticky cum start to abundantly spurt. without a warning, you struggled slightly to accept and swallow it, though wonwoo was intent on keeping you flush to his pelvis until every drop was polished off. he was still thrusting shallowly into your mouth, and you could feel his length gradually begin to soften. his release was warm, and it was similar to cream sliding down your throat.

after he removed himself from your mouth, he titled up your head by the chin.

“did you swallow it all yet?”

you shook your head. quickly, the side of your hot cheek was met with wonwoo’s hand. he’d given you a timid slap, one that wasn’t meant to hurt, but stung gingerly.

“i wanna see you swallow, babygirl.” he purred. “be good, won’t you?”

your tears were dribbling uncontrollably as you fully swallowed his seed. god, your throat felt like it was on fire. each muscle in your jaw was burning up ardently. your knees were so numb you didn’t even think you could stand. there wasn’t enough time for wonwoo to return the favour. you were sure he could smell the thick scent of your arousal, especially as it ruined your underwear and shone on your inner thighs.

but you didn’t care. having him use you for the night was enough.

“are you alright?” wonwoo asked, getting himself back in his pants.

you didn’t respond, just gripped onto his knee tightly and attempted to stand. your opyum heels were still on, and you nearly broke an ankle as the blood rushed into your legs. wonwoo stood also. he stabilized you by holding your shoulders, at least for a good minute. pulling back your sleeve, you rid the tears that stained your face with a quick wipe from your hand. you were going to have to be very speedy getting back to the house, unless you wanted your father to send the swat team after you.

“god,” you sighed with a raspy, dying voice, “i hate my life.”

wonwoo scoffed at you lightly.

“what lie did you tell them this time?”

you muttered, “i was going to the jewellers.”

“that’s a long time to be at the jewellers.”

“i know that,” you snapped quickly in response.

more tears pushed at your ducts. you couldn’t believe how unhappy you were, even despite having every material thing you could ever want. sometimes that particular thought would just pummel you out of nowhere and you’d fight back the urge to cry.

wonwoo’s hand cupped the side of your face. his thumb stroked gently beneath your eye and he leaned in to kiss your mouth softly. his tongue tasted like a cherry lollipop. he really was trying to quit smoking.

“what are you gonna do, babygirl?” wonwoo hummed, pressing his forehead against yours as he continued to brush your cheek.

you held his waist. “i dunno,” you croaked, “my parents don’t like you. my dad doesn’t want me near you.”

“then don’t tell him i fucked your face, princess. it’s easy.”

there was a puff of meek laughter in your chest. for a few more minutes, you let wonwoo hold you. it was the most comfortable and happy you’d felt all day. you were running short on time. the first thing you’d do when you get home would be to run a hot shower and most likely finger yourself while you thought about wonwoo’s cock lodged deep down your throat. maybe one day you’d really snap and stuff all your belongings in a suitcase and come live with him in the shitty scope of town.

but for now, that seemed unattainable.

you’d have to come up with another lie as to why you just spent two hours at the jewellers.

“the earrings were the most magnificent things i’d ever seen! i’m going to wear them for my modelling gig next month, in paris of course. i’ll even text you guys some photos of them when i get home. they have these little opal centres that absolutely sparkle.”

just one more word. if you had to listen to aria babble one more word about her modelling gig or her stupid opal earrings or her all-expense paid trip to paris then you might have to throw your glass of chardonnay in her face. those were the only three things she talked about. then the month would change and she’d have another three things to drive into the mud, yet everyone at the table ate up her words like they were a slice of chocolate cake. you were starting to develop a headache.

“that’s wonderful, aria!” ester was gleaming as she readjusted the strap on her pearl-white dress. you could just tell she was dying to incorporate tales of her own wealth into the conversation. “i can’t wait to see your modelling pictures. that reminds me, i still have some old videos from when i went parasailing in bali. do you guys wanna see them?”

everyone started crowding around ester’s side of the table, attempting to view the footage she was pulling up on her phone screen. however, you didn’t budge, and continued to stare with a dull look in your eyes out the bar’s front window. through the glass, you could see wonwoo standing at the street lamp with his friends, swirling around another lollipop from cheek to cheek. you wondered if it was cherry. his last flavour had been green apple. you tasted it on his tongue when he’d fucked you in the backseat of his car.

but that was a week ago.

“don’t you want to see?” ester was smiling at you.

winding your fingers around your thin wine glass, you shrugged. “i’ll pass.”

“suit yourself.” ester replied, and started to play her first video.

you hated everything about this situation.

wonwoo was right. you really didn’t have any friends, and that became especially clear as you observed everyone at the opposite end of the table, adoring ester’s cute, ditsy little parasailing videos that her boyfriend took. you wished you liked the same things these girls did. your life would be one-hundred times more enjoyable if you just embraced your sumptuous blessings and shed a couple brain cells to be on the same level as them.

then again, you didn’t want to be exactly like them.

they left you to get home by yourself just because you drank too much. at a bar.

pressing the wine glass against your lips, you tilted your head back and easily gulped down the remaining chardonnay. it was a pleasant coolness that streamed down your throat, and you slammed the glass onto the table once it was emptied; even slouched back in your seat and didn’t bother patting your lipstick dry with a tissue. aria raised an eyebrow at you. she looked like she was itching to say something. you were in the mood for a challenge. if she was going to make a passive aggressive comment, it better be soon.

“i hope you have a designated driver.” she finally decided to chuckle.

you rolled your eyes. “shut up, aria.”

ester and her friends immediately looked up from the phone.

“excuse me?” aria replied while tucking a strand of her behind her ear. she seemed a bit baffled by your sudden disdain. “i don’t believe i’ve ever heard you speak like that.”

you were beyond a point of caring. “what are you gonna do then? tattletale on me? you’re such a fake.”

“that’s way out of line.” ester intervened, staring you down intensely. “why are you acting like this?”

“whatever.” you stood up from the chair and reached for your coin purse, revealing a wadded clump of cash that you slapped on the lacquered table. admittedly, the alcohol concocted with your frustration (not to mention being around wonwoo’s snide personality) had quite the effect on your behaviour. if you never had to see these girls again, it would be too soon. you couldn’t believe that you’d even went through the effort of buying aria a christmas present. the only thing she gifted you was a card with her signature on it.

like that was fucking useful.

“i think you need to leave.” ester announced like you weren’t already gathering your things.

“exactly.” you falsely commended her.

she probably had a pea-sized diamond in her skull instead of an actual brain. “i’m leaving now before you guys get the chance to ditch me. don’t worry about it though. i can actually walk myself out this time.”

if only you had a camera ready to capture their gobsmacked expressions. it would have been embarrassingly laughable. you flicked past them toward the door and pushed into the nighttime air, which was crisp and wonderfully cold to your warmed flesh. you felt powerful for summoning the courage to break ties with them, and yet, at the same time, you found that you were on the verge of tears. they deserved to have their toxic behaviour thrown back in their face. it was just that you felt a bit broken.

now you truthfully were alone. well – apart from wonwoo.

you approached him as he stood at the corner, still suckling on his lollipop. him and his friends were in the midst of a humorous conversation when you tapped on wonwoo’s hard shoulder. you always wondered what they spoke about. it always seemed more interesting than the lifeless talk you once endured inside the bar. he didn’t seem all that surprised to see you, though he did look with concern at the watery film across your eyes. you could smell the sweetness of his lollipop; it had to be strawberry.

“are you okay?” wonwoo asked, his breath forming wispy cotton against the dark sky.

you ignored his question. “i want to go back to your place.” you told him.

“now?” he raised his eyebrow.

“yes. now would be good. i’ve just been thinking, and i really want you to eat me out.”

you didn’t care if his friends overheard. apparently, wonwoo didn’t care either. he smirked at you and licked his lips, though there remained a bit of uncertainty in his eyes. you had yet to answer his initial question. from inside the bar, you knew those girls were staring at you, watching you talk to wonwoo.

they were definitely going to tattle to your parents.

your fingers clawed mercilessly over the bed, practically uprooting the linens tucked beneath the mattress as wonwoo kept your thighs tightly locked apart. everything felt so dense, so hot, like the universe was pushing down on your chest and igniting flame inside of your body. you lifted your head off his pillow, only capturing a mere glimpse of his pink tongue gliding past your slit, the muscle coated purely in your arousal. he started to fuck you with his tongue, digging it as deep as he could within your heat.

unabashedly, you moaned, extremely loud and most likely disturbing everyone in his apartment complex. everything about the technicality and purpose of his movements was pushing you toward a climax that would be unlike any other. he was so impatient to get a taste of you that he hadn’t even taken your skirt off, instead bunching the pleated material up against your stomach while your underwear were thrown to the floor. suddenly, you were gasping, and your head collapsed back to the pillow.

wonwoo had managed to wriggle his hand between your thighs. as he ran his tongue in hot, fervent licks against your needy clit, he pushed two fingers inside of you, scissoring you open.

“ffuh-fuck, wonwoo!” you wailed, your hand grasping at his soft hair to keep his tongue against you. “it fe-feels s-so … s-so fucking go-good!”

he’d been taking his sweet time in building up your climax. you allowed him to have his way with you, since he knew how to work your body as though he were magic. his fingers started to curl. it didn’t take him long before they were hitching up into that one golden spot, the one that caused the entire room to whirl. you could tell that he was smiling. he began to messily circle his tongue around your clit. the sensation of the warm, wet muscle pleasuring your most sensitive region was leaving you breathless.

“c’mon, babygirl,” wonwoo mumbled against your core, his fingers thrusting up heavily and abusing that spot inside of you, “you gonna let go and let me taste your cum? you’re fucking dripping all over the bed.”

there was a glimmer of drool leaking from the edge of your mouth. you were so blissed out and crammed with euphoria that you could hardly articulate a response. wonwoo wasn’t giving you much of a chance either. he started a brisk pace rubbing his tongue against your clit, and then he closed his plump lips around you to better flick it with the pink muscle. his bicep was probably burning as he slammed his fingers deep into your heat, making you squelch. your slick had thoroughly soaked the sheets beneath you.

“fuck, fuck, fuck,” you panted, arching your chest into the air, “i-it’s s-so much, w-wonwoo—m’gonna—nngh—m’gonna cc-cum!”

wonwoo kept your hips pressed firmly to the mattress with one arm as your pleasure exploded. the tears easily streamed down your flustered, glossy face as this extreme contraction passed through you. it was incredibly wet, too wet, and you knew exactly what had happened as wonwoo pulled out his glistening fingers and completely buried his face between your thighs. god, it was fucking embarrassing. you would have curled away from him if wonwoo wasn’t so persistent. he kept licking at you, hard and fast.

at that point, your tears were no longer tiny beads. the sensitivity had left your nerves completely raw, and you sobbed helplessly as wonwoo continued to eat you out. his tongue felt like it was lapping everywhere, impatient and hungry. you tried to pull him away by dishevelled hair, but he swatted your hand back and bit down softly on your swollen clit. before you even knew what was happening, wonwoo had somehow forced your body into another orgasm. his tongue was inside of you as the second wave hit.

“pl-please,” you whimpered in utter fragility, the mixture of pleasure and pain becoming too overwhelming as wonwoo attempted to lick you clean, “pl-please, wonwoo… i-it huh-hurts..”

he chuckled against your sore flesh warmly. “are you sure you’re done, baby? bet i could make you squirt again if i was real gentle.”

“i-i don’t want to talk about it…” you said shakily. honestly, you didn’t even know your body was capable of feeling that much stimulation and pleasure. it was cosmic.

“awe, don’t be embarrassed,” wonwoo hummed, “you have no idea how fucking hot that was.”

“i don’t want to know.” you sighed.

wonwoo scoffed innocuously. he pecked the inside of your thigh, then each hip bone, before he crawled overtop of you and let you taste your own sweetness off his tongue. you spent a few minutes idly making out, smearing saliva over each other’s flushed lips, running your hands up and down his broad, hard chest, leaving scarlet rivulets along his biceps. wonwoo began teasing his fingers against your slit again, and you gasped into the kiss as his finger sunk into you, slowly, deeply.

“what’s wrong?” wonwoo asked while pumping the digit at a gentle pace.

“what do you mean?” you squeaked, staring into his brown eyes tinged with his earlier concern.

“you know what i mean,” wonwoo hummed, “why were you about to cry outside the bar? what happened?”

“are you sure we should discuss this while you’re fingering me?”

“baby, just tell me.” wonwoo urged with a comforting tone in his voice. he started to massage his thumb over your clit, and your entire body jolted.

you sniffled. “i-i just, i— i kind of cut ties with my friends. a-and i’m glad i did it but now i’m just gonna be even more a-alone.”

“of course not,” wonwoo shook his head, “you have me.”

“are you sure?”

slight amusement and shock coloured wonwoo’s face. he pulled his hand away from your core and looked like he wanted to laugh. you couldn’t blame him, but you also couldn’t help your insecurity.

“i’m sure, baby.” he told you firmly. “i’ll always be here for you. i promise.”

you smiled up at him, feeling your heart start to soften.

“can we take a shower?” you then proposed. “i want to get these tears off my face before they dry.”

while wonwoo was busy getting the water running inside the bathroom, you noticed your phone start to glow and vibrate on his nightstand. it was your mother’s number on the screen. taking a long, slow breath, you flipped your phone upside down and ignored the call. it was a risky move, but it felt almost healing in a sense to turn away from the stress in your life. instead, you focused on what mattered in the moment.

wonwoo joined you in the shower, the water gliding in silk-like pathways around his lean muscle and smooth skin. he pushed back his wet hair, sparkling droplets sticking heavy to his eyelashes. he pressed you against the tiles, and their icy touch sent a shiver up your spine. in the midst of the steam and heat, he was kissing you again, suckling softly on your tongue and squeezing your breasts in his hands. his aching length, hard and heavy, brushed between your thighs, to which your palm started to glide up his shaft.

he smiled against your mouth, “you want my cock inside you, babygirl?”

the fire slowly rebuilt itself from the embers in your stomach.

“yes please.” you lilted innocently.

wonwoo decided to press your front against the glass wall instead of the tile. his lips were leaving drifting pecks up your shoulder blade, and he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. a rough, deep groan filled your ear as wonwoo rubbed his cock between your folds, allowing your arousal to coat him generously. however, you were yearning to feel how he filled you entirely, until you could feel him nestled right to the brink. wriggling your hips against him, it was your non-verbal cue for him to start sliding in.

he cupped your breasts in his hands, whispering into your ear, “how should i fuck you, baby? do you want it hard?”

as impatient as you were, there was something about the atmosphere that told you to prolong your intimacy. “n-no,” you mumbled as the fog swathed around you, “s-slow, i want to feel you.”

your moan was almost louder than the water spraying against the tiles when wonwoo started to push inside of you. once he was buried as far as could fit, he started to grind into you, extending his pace so that you could truly feel his every inch and vein. his fingers were massaging your chest, the round flesh almost like velvet to his touch. everything about your body was endearingly soft and warm. he loved it.

“does it feel good, babygirl?” wonwoo purred. he was situated at such a pleasurable depth inside you that you felt like complete gelatine. he thrust into you a little harder, but it was enough to make you cry.

“s-so good,” you stuttered, licking the water off your lips. “do i feel good t-too?”

wonwoo smirked. he moved his hips at a shallow pace. “mmhm. you’re so tight and warm around me, baby. feels so perfect. how pretty do you think your pussy would look with my cum dripping out of it? should we try it?”

you pushed yourself back against his pelvis, “fill me up, wonwoo, please.”

“of course,” he grinned, and slowly dipped a hand down your stomach until you felt him begin to rub soft circles into your clit.

“let’s see how much you can take, babygirl.”

you were exhausted. you were sore. but you felt safe. you made an audacious decision and decided to spend the night at wonwoo’s rather than going home, where you knew you’d be greeted by an equally displeased mother and father that aria had snitched to. it was the first time you’d gone to bed without wearing pyjamas that weren’t expensive, pink satin. you were clad in nothing but one of wonwoo’s old t-shirts. he tried to give you one that didn’t still carry the scent of stale cigarette smoke.

his arm was around your waist, your spine resting comfortably against his chest while you lay together beneath the bedsheets. the sheet that was stained in your arousal had been tossed in the laundry hamper. you knew wonwoo would never stop teasing you about it. anyways, life felt different at his apartment; in fact, it felt better, especially when wonwoo kissed your temple before shutting off the light. your wealth had never been a defining factor in your personality, but it did make you consistently miserable.

that night, it was just you and a boy, a boy who you were quite positively in love with. maybe he loved you too. you weren’t completely certain yet, and you didn’t want to rush anything; however, you felt fairly confident his heart was likewise when he buried his face into your neck and wished you goodnight in his low, sleepy voice.

whatever your parents had to say, you’d find out tomorrow morning.

right now, you weren’t the rich girl, but a happy girl, and that mattered more to you than anything else.

#wonwoo smut #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #jeon wonwoo #svt smut #svt fanfic #seventeen imagines

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yungidreamer · 3 years

Text

Reluctance

Summary: Sometimes holding on to things that one shouldn’t, has consequences: Mingi has fallen out of love but hasn’t said good bye. It might have been kinder if he did.

Word count: 2.2k

Content warnings: Angst, lots of emotional pain, a long drawn out breakup.

Song: Are You With Me by Nilu

“Hey Mingles,” she greeted happily when she heard the front door open and close. “Welcome back! How was work today?”

“It was fine,” he shrugged, sprawling out on the opposite side of the couch.

“Fine is good,” she replied brightly, despite his tone. “Better than bad at least.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mingi blithely replied, turning on the television and keeping his attention there.

“Oh hey, about tomorrow,” she added, a little tightness in her tone as she pushed forward. “The party is on Saturday so we should go and buy our outfits. We can meet at the store after you’re done with work since it’s close to there. Does that work?”

“Yeah sure,” he sighed. “Whatever.”

“I know it isn’t your favorite thing,” she offered solicitously. “So I really appreciate you going with me.”

He didn’t respond, or even really acknowledge that she had said anything so she let it drop. It was for the best. He hated being pushed. He hated being nagged. And she hated when he was mad at her. It always made her feel… small. She just wanted to love him, help him, make his life a little better and sometimes it felt like she didn’t anymore.

Mingi came when she asked him too, even when it was clear he didn’t want to, and he did what he had to in order to make things work. It was enough. It had to be. So she fell into the small silence she had become used to being when he didn’t want to talk.

She sat quietly, giving him space to be himself and to do his thing, not really saying anything until it was time for dinner. Even then all she asked was if he wanted her to serve him some. He nodded, keeping his attention on what he was watching. She brought his food with a smile, daring to lean in to give his cheek a quick peck before leaving him to eat and watch in peace.

“Hey, it’s good to see you,” she greeted as Mingi approached her and the entrance to the store. “With any luck this won’t take very long.” She added perkily as she reached for his hand. A sliver of relief flooded her when he took it today, since he didn’t always anymore. His hand felt warm and strong and a sudden pang went through her at the memory of the comfort it used to give her.

It was slowly getting harder to tell herself that it was just a rough patch, that he had just had a rough day… that it was just a bad mood. It will pass, she used to tell herself. Then I’ll have that sweet Mingi with the gummy smile and infectious laugh. But weeks had turned into a month, and then months. She knew it wasn’t really getting better, but those little glimpses, the little flashes of moments that came now and again kept that tiny dying spark alive.

“I already got a couple of things I needed,” she explained flashing the shopping bags in her other hands at him. “I figured I could take care of it before you got here and make the whole thing go just a little faster for you.”

“Okay, that’s good,” he nodded, eyes scanning the store ahead of them. “I need a shirt and a jacket. The pants I have are still fine.”

“Good,” she nodded, unconsciously squeezing his hand a little tighter as she looked around, wanting to find where the men’s section was as efficiently as possible.

“Do you have to squeeze that hard?” he huffed, pulling his hand away. “It’s not like I’m five and you have to keep me from getting hit by a car in the street.”

“Sorry,” she apologized, tucking her hand into her pocket and falling back to let him lead the way. He was taller anyway, he’d be able to see the section better anyway. Besides, it’s the section he always shops in, of course he would know where it is better than she would.

“Hey babe, what are you doing?” Mingi asked, coming up behind her to hug her as she stood mixing something at the kitchen counter.

“Making cookies,” she giggled, bumping her head into his affectionately as he tucked his chin into her shoulder.

“Can I have a taste?” He questioned, giving her his brightest ‘you’ll say yes because you love me’ look.

“Just a little,” she agreed, taking a little pinch between two fingers for him. “There is raw egg in it so, let's be safe.”

“Mmmmmm,” he made an exaggerated sound of happiness as he chewed the little bit of dough. “My baby cooks the best food.”

“Thank you, sweetheart,” she kissed his cheek before going back to give the dough its last few stirs to mix it. “I’m just happy that you like it.”

“Your pants are grey, right?” She asked, looking out over the section of dress shirts that surrounded them.

“Charcoal,” he corrected as he looked through a pile of jewel toned shirts.

“Right, charcoal,” she took the correction quietly, swallowing past the lump in her throat. “I think those could be a really good choice to go with it. You always did have innately good taste.”

He acknowledged the compliment with a brief grunt and she let herself lapse into that familiar untroublesome silence. Usually if she was quiet she didn’t bother him at least.

Following him a few steps behind, she watched, only speaking up to offer to hold the couple of shirts he decided to try on while he continued to look around. Passing them to her before he sighed and headed off to another table to look through the shirts piled there.

“Good morning,” Mingi’s deep voice had a singsong tone as he pranced into the room where she was still huddled happily under the covers. “I have a surprise for the birthday girl.” He stepped up beside the bed and proudly placed a try of food on her lap. “Tada! Here look, it's all your favorites. Eggs, bacon, grits, and an english muffin with melty cheese!”

“Oh hun it smells so good,” she moaned, squeezing her hands together excitedly. “I don’t deserve this. Thank you.” Reaching up she pulled his face down to give him a grateful kiss. “You really are the best boyfriend ever.”

“Only for my best girl.” He gave her a glowing smile and sat down beside her in the bed. “After all, you did so much more for me on my big day.”

“Not really,” she demurred, blushing as she waved away the complement. “It was just a cake and stuff.”

“Cake and dinner and drinks and a whole evening of my favorite things,” he told her, giving her shoulder a light poke as he spoke.

“It was all stuff I liked, too,” she assured him. “I always have fun doing that sort of stuff with you.”

“Like I said,” he told her affectionately. “Only for my best girl.”

“Do you want me to come in and look?” she asked as they got near the dressing rooms.

“If you want,” he sighed. “I can pick them myself, too.”

“I’ll just stay over here,” she said, leaning against the wall near the end of the corridor, close to the clothes return rack.

“Okay,” he sounded tired as he picked a room and pulled the heavy curtain closed behind him. She stood, looking at her hands and waiting for the ache in her chest to loosen just enough that she didn’t feel like she could burst into tears at any moment. It wouldn’t help and it would probably make anything worse.

Sometimes she wished he would just… yell at her or say he hated her. It would have been easier to bear than the slow slip into disgusted indifference everything had become between them. At least if he hated her, he still cared enough to feel that towards her. It would be something. Or it might be enough to help her walk away. Kill that hope she held clutched in her hand like a firefly that still barely flickered.

Mingi stepped out of the dressing room, dressed in one of the new shirts and jackets. He looked so good in the deep red and the dark grey that looked like it would match his dress pants well. He had always been pretty enough to take her breath away. The red contrasted with the light beige of his soft skin and the dark mess of his brown hair. All that was missing was that smile she missed so badly.

“It looks good,” she smiled at him but he didn’t look closely enough to see the way one corner of her mouth quivered, unable to keep up the facade she tried so hard to keep. “But you always look good in colors like that.”

“It’s fine,” he said looking at himself in the set of mirrors at the end of the corridor. “I think I want a cool color instead though.”

“That would look good, too,” she agreed as he walked back into the dressing room and closed the curtain. She waited, trying to become invisible to the people who came in to try things on. She didn’t want to be a bother. She didn’t really want to be much of anything.

Mingi came out again dressed in the same jacket but this time with a sapphire shirt on under it. As she had known he would, he looked princely in the outfit. He always did. This time though, she didn’t offer an opinion and just let him look at himself and decide if he liked it on his own.

“Well?” He huffed, turning on her impatiently with his arms raised in a sort of mocking tada motion.

“You look good,” she replied quickly. “But you always look good.”

“Fine, good enough,” he exhaled and turned towards the dressing room again. “I’ll just try the other jacket to be sure.” He didn’t bother to close the curtain just to change the jacket and his voice carried through the space as he grumbled, “I can’t believe I have to spend money on this.”

She had known he didn’t want to come even if he never said it outloud. It came through in every sigh, it came through in the grimace he wore when anything related came up, it came through in his indifference as to how important it was for her. Still, she had been able to let herself pretend. These sort of things weren’t the kind of thing he had ever really liked doing and as long as they both pretended, then she could just tell herself that is all this was.

But those few words finally felt like enough that she couldn’t pretend anymore. When he stepped out in the second jacket she put her bags down and stepped forward, coming to stand just behind him. This jacket suited him even better than the first, the cut emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and the trim tuck of his waist. He looked… so good.

As she quietly looked at him she noticed that the collar of his shirt had gotten caught on the collar of the jacket. She put a gentle hand on his arm and he looked down at her, annoyance clearly written on his face.

“The collar is stuck, let me help,” she said softly. A little of the annoyance faded from his face as he leaned down to let her fix it. “You really don’t want to come do you?” She asked as her fingers worked, careful to look at what she was doing rather than into his face.

“I said I’d go, what more do you want from me?” He asked, straightening up as she finished.

“I just…” want you to be happy again, she couldn’t finish it aloud. “It’s not just the event, is it?”

“What do you mean?” He pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his jaw.

“You don’t love me anymore, do you,” she bit her lip to hold back the tears after finally getting the question out.

“I… don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s not like it used to be.”

“It’s okay,” she said, smoothing the lapels of the jacket against his chest. “I always knew I loved you more than you loved me. I thought maybe I could love you enough for both of us. But I don’t think I can.”

“I… I’m sorry,” he said dumbly, unable to think of something else to say.

“Don’t be sorry,” she offered him a watery smile as the tears she couldn’t hold back any longer rolled hot and large down her cheeks. “Just find a reason to smile again, okay?”

Giving the jacket a final nostalgic brush of fingertips, she let her hands drop and turned to pick up the bags she had left back in her little corner. Without looking back, she walked away, determined not to break any further in front of him. There was time later when she could crumble and mourn all the dreams that had finally been killed for her.

Mingi watched her go and couldn’t help but feel like he was letting go of something that he would never get back, even as he felt a pressure that had been resting in the center of his chest for far too long finally fade. He stood there until he could no longer see her, only then changing back into his own clothes, not even bothering to hang up what he had tried on.

At least it was finally done.

Masterlist

#Mingi #song mingi #mingi angst #ateez angst #Kpop angst #break up #goodbyes

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pandajaye · 3 years

Text

Todoroki Family Ties (Parts 5-6)

Characters: Enji Todoroki, Stepmom!OC!Ivy (Ivy is black btw), Child!Shoto Todoroki, Teen!Touya Todoroki

Warnings: mention of harsh discipline,

Part 5

Enji explained everything. The whole entire full length truth. He explained what happened to Rei. What she did to Shoto’s eye. What he did to Touya. It flipped her reality completely.

“Thank you for letting me open up about all this. It’s not all easy to admit to. I’m so sorry for not telling you the truth.”

She felt kind of bad for the guy. But she really felt bad for Rei. The guilt she must have in her soul for what she did. For what he pushed her to do. Would it happen to her too? Whatever. She didn’t want to think about that anymore right now. Instead, she snuggled close to him again.

“Let’s just talk about it later. Today was kind of wild wasn’t it? I’m lucky that Shoto called you when he did. I probably would’ve been ashes if he hadn’t done something.”

Her snuggles were met with some of his own. Kisses even. He really was sweet when he wanted to be.

“It was and you’re absolutely right. Because of him, you’re still in my arms. He’s a good kid. Still learning to be tough, of course. Maybe I’ll give him a break tomorrow too and just train with Touya. You and Shoto could just spend some time together.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun. I think he’d really like that. Good idea.”

The next day, Shoto and stepmama Ivy, got to have fun and relax.

They practiced some yoga:

“Okay, Shoto. Let’s try downward dog.” *stretches* “Now you try.”

Shoto attempts the pose successfully and flawlessly.

“Did I do it? I think I did it!!”

“You did! You got it! Good job, Sho! Now, try to keep your balance and reach out with your left arm and lift your right leg. Like this.”

She moves to position and takes a deep breath, coming out of position to observe Shoto. He struggles a bit, but completes the goal and sits back down.

“Awesome! Our next pose is gonna be a little harder. Think you’re up for it?”

“Yeah! I’m ready for anything!”

“Good attitude! So, I know your dad has this idea that being a hero means being all hard and tough. But you have to learn how to be flexible and balanced. You must relax and focus so that you can attack efficiently. Always keep in mind that you have to be able to adapt to successfully strategize and defeat your opponent.”

While she was talking, she bent into the side crow post with grace and ease, balancing on nothing but her hands.

“I can do it! Watch me!”

Shoto attempted the same pose but struggled to hold himself up, falling back down.

“Dang it! I’ll try again.”

He tried again. The same result but he fell down a little quicker.

“Hey, maybe it’s time to take a brea-“

“NO!! I can do it!”

Another attempt and another fall. She could tell he was getting tired but he was really determined.

“Okay. Just remember: relax, focus, and breathe. You got this.”

He tried again. And slipped again, starting to get a little upset. Not a little. A good bit actually. Shoto stood up and stomped around.

“NOOO! NO NO NO NO!”

Ivy sat in front of him, reaching her hands out.

“Hey, Shoto. It’s okay! Calm down. Just breathe.”

He should really take her advice. He was starting to get as red as his own hair. There were tears in his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

“I promise I’ll get it, I promise! I’ll work harder and get stronger and-“

“Shoto Todoroki. Take a seat and breathe. Hold my hands.”

Shoto listened and sat down in front of her, putting his little hands in hers. His left hand was really warm but his right hand was cool. Must be his quirk.

“Breathe with me. Deep breath in.”

They inhaled together.

“Deep breath out.”

They exhaled together.

“Now. Why do you feel so strongly about this? It’s literally just yoga. It’s supposed to be fun.”

He wiped his eyes but thinking about why he was getting so frustrated made him cry more.

“And.... I’m supposed to be number one. I’m not s-supposed to fail. Failure is bad. Bad is weakness. Weakness is punishable.”

Ivy didn’t hesitate to pull Shoto into her lap and hug him tight. Every sniffle made her heart sad.

“Sho.... It’s okay. You’re not training with your dad. We’re having a fun day off together. Me and you. You’re safe with me. Life is going to be challenging. You’re not always going to achieve your goal right away. I didn’t come out the wound bending like a pretzel, honey. It took me a long time to master a move like that. You’re only seven years old, you’re not expected to be able to hold up your own body weight. But it also doesn’t mean that you’re not strong. We’ll work on it another day if you’re still determined. Let’s rest your arms and have a snack and relax.”

Shoto wiped his face again and stood up.

“Can we cuddle and watch a movie too?”

“It’s your day off. We can do whatever we want. If that’s what you wanna do, let’s do it!”

When he got up she crouched to wipe his face and kiss his forehead, standing up and holding his hand. After an arm massage, a snack, and a movie, cuddle included, he felt a lot better. They both did. The movie finished just in time for Touya and Enji to return. That’s when Ivy discovered Shoto had fallen asleep. She let him sleep for a little longer while she made dinner.

“What did you guys do while Touya and I were out?”

She shrugged.

“Nothing much. Just some yoga. But.... we need to talk about his emotional health. He got really upset when he couldn’t do this one pose. I don’t know. Does the phrase ‘Weakness is punishable’ sound familiar to you?”

Enji looked from the floor to the wall. He really tried to pretend he didn’t hear what she just said.

“Touya did good today. Not great. Just good.”

“Enji. He’s seven. You can’t keep pushing him so hard. It’s gonna backfire on you. It probably already has with Touya.”

“He’s fine, Ivy. It’s what he needs to push himself.”

“Why does he need to push himself? The only pushing he should be dealing with is on a swing.”

“What did I tell you about trying to tell me what my kids need?!”

The two froze when Shoto shuffled. Maybe if Mr. Hellfire didn’t raise his voice he wouldn’t have woken up. He yawned before rubbing the sleep away and looking at them.

“Is dinner ready yet?”

She rolled her eyes at Enji and gave him a warm smile.

“Almost, Sho. Can you go ahead and get your brother and wash your hands please?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

Shoto slid off the couch and headed to Touya’s room, sort of stumbling from still being a little tired. Back in the kitchen, Ivy glared at Enji, her voice lowered to a whisper.

“We WILL talk about this later.”

“Fine with me, urchin.”

“Whatever, flaming bookshelf.”

Sometimes people do outta pocket shit. People like Enji. Who for some reason thought it was hot for her to call him a flaming bookshelf and smacked her ass and walked off. She gasped and grabbed a wooden spoon and threw it at the back of his head, trying not to laugh.

“BOOOYYYY IF YOU DON-”

Part 6

The incident with Touya was three days ago. Enji and Ivy continued to argue about how they should handle the situation before coming to the conclusion that they’d just talk to him. For a good 20 minutes, he sat on one side of the living room and they sat across from him. Enji and Touya had a glaring contest and Ivy just tried to smile so he wouldn’t have to feel like he was in big trouble, not that he broke eye contact with Enji to even notice her anyways.

Finally, Ivy broke the awkward silence.

“Sooooo.... Touya. Your father and I just wanted to talk to you about the other d-“

“Apologize.”

“No.”

This is where the trouble starts. Something is always going to go wrong when someone interrupts someone else. Especially if there’s two people that butt heads constantly.

“Hun, I got this. So. Touya. Is there anything that you want to say about what happened? Would you like to explain what you were feeling?”

Since she was being so nice about it, he decided to answer her. He rolled his eyes and adjusted himself before speaking.

“Listen. I’m sure you’re a nice person, but to be honest.... I think you’re weak, I think you’re sensitive, and I think you’re useless. I FEEL like you think you can replace my mom but you don’t even have a quirk! You’re literally nothing but some wench off the street looking for home, stray.”

“ALRIGHT THAT’S IT! YOU NEED TO LEARN SOME RESPECT, INGRATE!!“

“YOU AND ME OLD MAN, LET’S GO!!”

They were about to hurt each other but Ivy interfered before any damage was done.

“Enji, just go check on Shoto! I’LL talk to him. Alone.”

Enji growled before stomping off to the door to check on his youngest playing outside, while Touya sat back down with a huff. Now it was just the two of them.

“Touya.... I know this isn’t just about me or your mom not being here. I know how hard he pushes you. I know what your dad does to push you, and past your limits at that. You’re still a kid. A teenager. Life is already so hard for you. Psychologically especially. You’re growing up. Going through puberty. Liking people more than in just a friendly way. Reading magazines-“

“Oh god, make it stop, MAKE IT STOP!”

She did stop, since she was only kidding, and laughed at his reaction.

“I’m just messing with you, kid. But seriously. I know it’s hard and I see the resentment in your face. I also see the stress you’re giving yourself. I know that that pain and frustration you projected onto me the other day, was a little bit cause, y’know, I’m not Rei. And I know that in that aspect, I can’t change anything. *sigh* But I still want to do my best to protect you guys. Because I really do care about you. I am so proud of you and the strength and determination that you show. I don’t know if your father ever acknowledges it, but this is me acknowledging it. Good job, Touya. You’re my number one hero.”

At first, he tried to sit there and pretend like he hadn’t heard a single word she had said. He was almost convincing until the ends of his mouth quivered. Until he wiped his face with his forearm. Until he got up and walked over to her and couldn’t look her in the eyes. Just stood in front of her. It wasn’t for nothing. She knew what was happening. He needed to be held, so that’s what she did. She embraced him with open arms and a squeeze to reassure him that he was safe with her. That she would do anything to protect him. That he was worthy and more than just a masterpiece.... that he was someone that was loved obviously instead of just the absence of negative moments.

She could feel him shaking when he cried. He needed this, he was positive-touch starved. Jesus.

“I’m r-really s-sorry.... for what happened.... for everything I said....”

Ivy rubbed his back before pulling back to look at him and wipe his face.

“I forgive you. More importantly. Did you like the dinner I put out in front of your door that night?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. It was great-“

“SCORE ONE FOR STEPMAMA!! WOOHOO!! Sorry, I love cooking. I also love you.”

“Back at ya.”

He smiled and headed to his room. Ivy took a deep breath, feeling accomplished. At least.... before Enji ran back inside in panic and looking upset. He’d been running around, there was sweat on his face.

“SHOTO’S GONE!!”

“....W-What?”

#todoroki family ties #bnha au #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #endeavor #enji #dabi #touya #shoto #todoroki #endeavor x black!reader #endeavor x reader #enji x black!reader #enji x reader #enji todoroki #touya todoroki #shoto todoroki #bnha #mha

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titularkilljoy · 4 years

Text

Black Coffee

Summary: Spencer had changed since prison. And no one seems to be able to help.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Strong language, mental health struggles, angst

Author’s note: Inspired by this post. Also, this is my first time writing for a fandom. So, don’t be gentle. Be brutally honest.

Spencer was different these days. On that much, everyone could agree.

Everyone on the team walked on eggshells around him now, myself included. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to be there for our friend who had just gotten out of a three-month stint in prison; it was quite the opposite. All of us were waiting with bated breath for an opportunity to help. None of us wanted him to bottle up all his frustration and end up throwing books at the bureau walls again. As it was, he refused to acknowledge it or talk about it, and as a result, we all talked around it, trying to profile him without making it too obvious; trying to help him without him catching on to the fact that we were trying to help him. All in all, it was a Herculean feat. Every time he detected the slightest ounce of what he deemed to be pity, you could see his hackles raise, and an impenetrable barrier would form around him. That was incredibly unpleasant for everyone involved.

Spencer and I had been close, once. Extremely close. We had confided in each other about everything. I think he had always appreciated the fact that I never treated him like an all-knowing alien or a socially awkward little brother. It probably helped that my feelings for him were far from brotherly. But he didn’t need to know that.

Regardless, our close bond seemed to be a thing of the past. I had been there to welcome him back to the outside world on the day he was released. My heart was fuller than it had ever been, with love and relief and grief, and I had thrown my arms around him without a word. He had been stiff in my embrace for a few seconds before I felt the familiar warmth of his arms clutching me tightly. I had sighed deeply. I had missed his touch.

Since then, however, he had shut himself off. I had tried to give him space, to let him resolve those issues , which he clearly did not want to speak to me about, on his own. When that didn’t seem to work, I decided on a more hands-on approach.

For a week, I had been trying to muster the courage to follow through on that decision. But every time I tried to broach the matter, the emptiness of his gaze and the rigid set of his shoulders would stop the words in my throat. I felt like I was trying to speak to a stranger. Worse than that– I knew how to deal with traumatized victims and witnesses. Spencer was neither of those and both of those at once. Besides that, he was the ghost of my best friend. Every conversation felt like trying to breathe new life into a relationship long gone dead and cold.

Right now, he was alone in the break room. On the surface, he seemed to be going about his routine like a normal person. But to the trained eye, it was horrifying. Because he was pouring himself some coffee. A black coffee. With one sugar. Knowing him like I did, the sight was bleak, and it spurred me into action.

I set my shoulders and walked into the room. He lifted his head and nodded at me in greeting. I sidled over to the counter and set my gaze firmly on the pot of coffee as it if contained all the secrets of the universe. He leaned against the counter, staring at the opposite wall while blowing on his coffee. I cleared my throat. There was a palpable tension in the air. Maybe it was just me. He certainly didn’t seem bothered. I, however, was choking on it.

“Spencer,” I tentatively began, “I was thinking, maybe we should talk?”

I cringed at my own words even as I said them. I’d spent a week working on this and the best I could do was some sitcom staple dialogue?

Spencer’s eyes darted over to me, brow furrowing in curiosity. “About what? Is this about the case?”

“No. No, it’s not about the case.”

That seemed to be the wrong answer. He heaved a frustrated sigh and rubbed a hand over his face.

“(Y/N), we really don’t have time for–-“

Another deflection. Except this time, I was expecting it, and wouldn’t accept it.

“Yes, we have time, Spencer. We’ve apprehended the suspect. We saved a victim. Today we’re doing paperwork”, I pointed out, “and this is definitely more important than paperwork.”

“If this is a personal matter then we shouldn’t be talking about it here anyway,” he said in a clipped tone. He was getting defensive.

“You’re right, Spencer.” That took him by surprise, and I was rewarded with his grudging attention.

“You’re right. This conversation shouldn’t be happening here. Except, you’ve been dodging my calls for a month. You pretend you’re not home when I show up at your apartment. You won’t even say a word to me that isn’t about work.” I let the frustration I felt bleed into my words; he needed to know this wasn’t a profiler’s attempt to poke and prod at his psyche. It was just me, and I wanted my best friend back.

“I’ve been busy,” he hedged, but there was a trace of guilt in his eyes. He had never liked seeing me hurt, after all.

“Don’t lie to me, Spencer,” I practically begged, “You’re shutting me out. I know you’re struggling. It’s so damn obvious that you’re struggling. I just want to help you. I hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m not asking you to! And I don’t need your help,” he spat with a scowl. “I’m not struggling. I can do this job just as well as you or anyone else on the team can, if not better.”

The sting from those words was overshadowed by my incredulity. “Are you serious? Spencer, this isn’t about the fucking job!” I cried in frustration. “This is about you. I care about you. You’re in pain, and I don’t understand why you won’t let me help. You used to tell me everything.”

He let out a dark chuckle, placing the mug back on the counter and standing up straight. For the first time in what felt like forever, he stared right into my eyes. Except I would have given anything not to be on the receiving end of that stare. It was so full of malice and bitterness; it was so unlike my Spencer.

“You’re so fucking transparent,” he began in a low tone, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise. Spencer wasn’t usually one for expletives, especially not at work.

“You claim to be worried about me, but you’re really only worried about yourself. You’re lonely, and you can’t form a real connection with anyone. Now that you don’t have me as your emotional crutch, you’re projecting those issues onto me. Typical.”

My jaw dropped against my will. “Spencer, that’s not fair,” I managed to whisper around the lump in my throat. But he wasn’t done yet. Nostrils flaring, he towered over me menacingly.

“Oh, it’s not fair. What isn’t fair is you trying to jeopardize my already precarious position at the FBI by bringing this kind of petty drama into my life. Not everything is about you.”

“I never said it was!” I practically yelled, shocked into anger.

“Yes, but you clearly think it is. You’re not actually worried about me. You just want things to go back to normal. You want me to be the old Spencer again. Sweet, naïve Spencer who would have gladly let you string him along for his entire life. Admit it.”

“String you along? What the fuck are you talking about? How about the other way around? And it’s fucking rich that you’re accusing me of not being able to form a meaningful connection when you’re the one who’s so scared that we’re going to reject you that you’ve completely shut us out. Your fucking family who went through hell and back to get you out. We don’t care that you’re not the same Spencer. No one expects you to be! But I’m sick of all of us talking around the big fat elephant in the room and I’m scared I’m going to find you drugged up and dead on the floor of your apartment one day!”

We were right in each other’s faces at this point, and I was breathing heavily. Surrounding us was a pregnant silence. Spencer’s face had settled into an unreadable mask that I desperately tried to decipher anyway.

Finally, he spoke. His voice was cold as he delivered the killing blow.

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about it. So, I’m not going to talk about it. That’s my decision. You’re not entitled to my confidence, (Y/N). Not anymore. Just leave me alone.”

Every word was well enunciated, and I knew he meant them. He was done with me. When he stormed out of the room, I collapsed back against the counter, trying to call out his name but my vocal cords refusing to cooperate.

I didn’t know how I felt. When your body suffers a massive injury, it numbs you for a while, to protect you. You often don’t even realize you’ve been hurt. But after the numbness fades, your entire body feels like it’s on fire. I supposed that was as good a way as any to explain what was happening to me at that moment. Something so monumental and world-shattering had just occurred that I was being given a few moments of numbness as a reprieve, before the pain would inevitably consume me.

I remained rooted to my position for uncomfortably long time before I realized several pairs of eyes were focused on me, trying and failing to be subtle at it. Overcome with a sudden wave of nausea, I rushed to the restroom. Splashing some cold water in my face, I stared at myself in the mirror.

Well, I thought, that backfired pretty spectacularly.

I closed my eyes and came to the grim realization that prison had left some indelible scars on Spencer. We had all been turning a blind eye to it–- we’d been hoping against all odds that Spencer’s endlessly resilient innocence would be preserved, even in the face of solitary confinement and selective memory loss. After all, the man had literally died and been resurrected, once. He had fought a drug addiction all on his own. He had been parenting his schizophrenic mother since he was a child. He was strong. If anyone could come out of this intact, we had reasoned, it would be Dr Spencer Reid. Being faced with clear evidence to the contrary was a bitter reminder that life always managed to snuff out light and goodness wherever it was found.

I kept my head down on my way to my desk. I made it halfway before I heard Hotch call my name. Garcia was at Morgan’s desk and she offered me an anxious, pitying smile. I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I turned and met his sympathetic yet firm gaze squarely, summoning a confidence I did not feel as I took the detour into his office. What other choice did I have? Life had to go on.

___________________

The next two weeks were tense, to say the least. Spencer and I could barely stand to be on opposite ends of the briefing room with each other. Hotch, perceptive as always, was gracious enough not to pair us up on either of the two cases we worked in that time. I threw myself into the gory details of case files and victimology, refusing to address the fact that I felt like I had lost a limb. I couldn’t succumb to that. Not quite yet, at least. Spencer, for his part, remained inscrutable, although I noticed Morgan and Emily trying to talk to him on more than one occasion. I appreciated their support, but Spencer had made himself very clear. There was nothing anyone could do.

I was dead on my feet when we finally wrapped up the case in Seattle. Derek Morgan needed to learn the meaning of the word “no”, because he still dragged me to some pub I can barely remember the name of. The memory loss could probably be attributed to the blackout drinking I embarked on that night. I drank, downing whiskey shot after whiskey shot until I lost my inhibitions and started giggling and singing along tunelessly to the music, then I drank some more until I felt comfortable enough to dance, and then I kept drinking until I hit the stage where I started sobbing. I usually knew to cut myself off before then. That night, though, my senses seemed to have left me entirely. To curb the sobbing, I drank some more, and that was about the point where I blacked out.

I woke up the next morning in a hotel room, ruing the day I was born, but there was an unopened bottle of water and some aspirin on the table, next to a note from Emily saying she was downstairs with the others. I gingerly caressed my forehead, groaning, before forcing myself out of bed and into the day.

The dark sunglasses I wore did little to make me feel better, and the teasing from Morgan about my alleged shenanigans the previous night did even less to that end. I boarded the jet with a grateful sigh, relieved that I could just curl up and go to sleep.

Alas, that wasn’t what the universe had planned for me, it seemed, because moments after I had nodded off, a hand on my shoulder gently shook me awake. I opened my mouth, ready to yell at whoever it was, but what came out instead was an embarrassing squeak.

Because standing in front of me, clutching a Starbucks cup, was none other than Spencer Reid.

He looked different. Different, and familiar. There was no tightly wound coil. There was no steel in his eyes. There was only warmth.

I eyed the cup in his hands curiously. Had he taken to tempting diabetes with his coffee once again? Had this mess all just been one long sugar crash?

He looked immensely sheepish as he murmured, apparently mindful of my piercing headache, “Can I sit?”

I nodded dumbly, enraptured by the sight of him sinking into the seat across from me, his knees almost knocking into mine. Was I just having a really good dream? Was I still drunk?

“(Y/N),” he whispered, and it felt like I’d travelled back in time. To back before our fight, before prison, before Mr Scratch, before Cat.

“I owe you an apology. Several, actually. I– you have to know that I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I was just lashing out. Textbook defensive behaviour.” He paused, watching me. I just stared back at him. I could only imagine what he saw on my face that made him continue even more gently, if that was even possible.

“You’re my best friend. You always have been. And you were absolutely right when you accused me of being worried about rejection. I- I’m not the same, anymore. I’ve never been particularly fond of myself, but now, I don’t even recognize myself.” He sounded miserable, and all I wanted to do was hug him. I stayed put, though. He looked like he really needed to finish what he had to say.

“I feel…darker, somehow. And I didn’t want to infect you with that. I didn’t want to hurt you. And instead, I hurt you more than I possibly could have if I’d just let you help me. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I–“

“Spencer,” I finally interjected, and slowly, deliberately, reached out and took one of his hands in both of mine. “Yes, you’re an idiot,” I conceded, trying to hold back the relief that was flooding my entire body, “but I’ll forgive you. If you promise you’re not going to pull that shit again. I’m serious, Spencer. You’re hurting yourself, you’re hurting me, you’re hurting the team. We need you. I need you”, I said vehemently, and that was as close to a confession as I would get. At least, for the foreseeable future.

His face told me he heard the unsaid, and the dark guilt clouded his face once again. He was remembering what he’d said to me. String me along, he’d thrown out. Steady determination chased the guilt, and he opened his mouth, but I cut him off.

“No. Not now. You need help. You know how I feel about you. But we can’t right now. It’s not fair to either of us.”

He looked like he was going to protest, but I tried to convey as much sincerity through my eyes as I could. We’ll have our chance, I tried to tell him. I’m not giving up on you, so don’t give up on me, I implored.

Slowly, he nodded. For the first time in half a year, my heart felt light. I knew there would be plenty of hurdles to navigate, but for now, the promise of his company in doing so was enough.

“Besides,” I said seriously, “we need to talk about this bad habit of ours.”

The bafflement on his face was familiar, and I grinned, biting my lip.

“Having these intense conversations in front of everyone in the FBI absolutely has to stop,” I clarified, staring at each of the other people on the jet pointedly. They were doing a very good job of looking busy. Morgan had a smirk on his face. I caught his eye for a second, and we shared a smile.

My comment made Spencer chuckle. “I’ll, uh- I’ll let you get back to your nap then.”

“Oh, thank God,” I groaned dramatically, pulling the blanket over my head to block out the dim light. It served another purpose; as I listened to the soft cadence of his retreating footsteps, it obscured the smile which threatened to rip my face in two. Morgan would never let me live that down.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fanfic #angst #post prison spencer

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pfreadsandwrites · 3 years

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congratulations on 100+ followers!!🥺❤️✨ bless you and your quality content ahhhh and thats a really good list of prompts there i actually had trouble picking one... but, since im truly a sucker for angst at heart, can i please have a number 15 with Kakashi?👀 please hurt me lmao thank you, and congrats once again!❤️

100 follower celebration

Yes, i used this mangacap.

Anyway, ahh @enchantedpendant, I’m so sorry I’ve kept you waiting so long for this! I know you expressed excitement over me writing something angsty way back when I first began the celebration event and ugh I’m just sorry it’s taken so long. And thank you for your support as well. You’ve been so amazing and encouraging right from the start and I’m so grateful :) I really hope you like this... if ‘like’ is the correct word.

Oh - also, to the anon that also requested this exact prompt (great minds think alike, huh?) I’m planning on writing a different version for you! But yours is the penultimate or last one so I’m hoping this’ll tide you over in the meantime!

This is my first piece after being unable to write for a while - forgive me if it’s rusty. I worked hard on this but I also struggled to all hell with it. It’s a circular-ish/montage-y piece. And I could have made it short, focusing on the scene itself, but I wanted this to have an emotional impact, ya know? I hope it worked! Please let me know what you think. Or if there are any mistakes.

warnings: character death, angst, miscarriage, sad feels all around, female reader, mild violence and sex mentions but nothing explicit, 2.9k

taglist: @madaras-housewife @datblobbyfish @praisingkuroosbedhead @allthingskakashi @enchantedpendant @ibukiirisha @cinam00n @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @tachibrii @drunkenfists

15. “Don’t die on me - please.”

Why did it always feel too soon, each time he let you go?

You remember it, the first time it happened.

How could you not? Little, insignificant, as it might have been to some - to him, if he could convince himself - to you, it was momentous. Lasting only a second, where his calloused fingers had brushed against yours, softer than his, yes, but no less enduring. The normally aloof eye, the only one he seemed to show without hesitation, was intent, the obsidian endless in its depth.

But - out of courtesy to him, or some kind of self-preservation - you’d paid it no mind. Or kept up that pretence, anyway. You found your footing as quickly as you’d lost it, stumbling away from his support no matter how reluctant you were to do so. The gratitude you’d muttered was enough and it seemed like you’d made the right choice; when that quietly shrewd eye of his turned away from you and his strong hands let you go in the same movement. He never let you bask in your own clumsiness, but that somehow made you feel worse. His nonchalance was excruciating. As if he hadn’t just saved you and made it look effortless. As if his touch alone hadn’t frozen you in place.

As if it never happened at all.

(It never should have happened at all.)

But still, you remember it. The moon’s luminosity the perfect backdrop, illuminating that wild silver hair as he turned away from you.

(It was all so disgustingly poetic.)

It took longer than it should have for you to turn away in kind. But you did. Eventually. You made the awkward trek back to camp before him, the internal rambling of your self-berating your only company. It grew louder each time you looked back, stealing little glances against your own will.

It was so loud that you didn’t notice much else.

Not even Kakashi stealing glances back at you, for instance.

***

Why did your breath hitch, even when the air had never been more tranquil?

You remember.

How he always did that, you still don’t know. Perfect timing, though you never appreciated just how perfect until he was gone again.

(You should have learnt to count your blessings.)

Without a trace, and so quickly, unceremoniously, that the entire encounter might well have been a mirage. It still might have been.

(Maybe it’d been better that way.)

You’d had enough. You didn’t think it through much further, and your desperation triumphed over your cautiousness as you sought out the bar exit. The mission, against all odds, was a success. And, against all better judgement, you were dragged along to the accompanying celebration. The atmosphere should have been infectious, you should have smiled more, you should have enjoyed yourself.

Then again, you couldn’t find much to celebrate. Mistakes - your mistakes - had piled up. Your team completed the mission despite you, not because of you. The liability, not the heroine.

(In hindsight, would it really have been so terrible if things ended for you there?)

You’d exhaled dramatically as you made your escape, a feeble attempt to expel all the guilt and shame you’d retained, or tried to retain, up until now.

You still remember the lilt of his voice, smooth and somehow jovial, but never losing that gravelly undertone, as you walked around the corner. How could you ever forget it? No matter how lax he sounded, or tried to sound, the severity lurking underneath always cut you deep.

Are you alright, he’d asked, already knowing the answer. With that signature one-eyed smile, he pretended to believe your response. And you pretended, in turn, that his smile didn’t have had the effect on you it did.

You didn’t exchange that many words as he walked you home, but somehow, it was enough. Though he was always careful with what he revealed, it was enough. He understood - much more than he let on, you suspected - but it was enough.

You didn’t hate yourself quite as much anymore, and - well, it wasn’t too much of a stretch - it didn’t seem like he hated you either. Something in the way his hand squeezed your shoulder, lingering for a moment, just before he saw you off. Was he reluctant to let go?

Maybe.

You slept better that night.

You’d find out later, that, miraculously, Kakashi did too.

***

Why did you feel so secure, sharing in all that suffering?

You remember.

(Why had you been so stupid?)

You’d almost dropped your flowers, when you saw him standing there, facing the memorial stone. It shouldn’t have been shocking; you’d heard gossip, in passing, about how much time he spent here. You’d also heard, in passing, how late he tended to be. Putting two and two together, you never held the latter against him.

You understood, after all. You'd understood all the more as your eyes bore into his back. Something in the way he curled and uncurled his fists, the way he sighed, the way his straightened back gradually hunched.

As far back as you could recall, your attitude to graveyards was… ambivalent. You’d avoid them whenever you could, not out of any tendency to be spooked or anything like that. You just couldn’t bring yourself to leave. It was peaceful, to be immersed somewhere so solemn, with such dense air - but the gravity of it also chained your feet there like an anchor. You knew each time you were there, regardless of your own volition, wouldn’t be the last. So if anyone were to empathise with this particular way he chose to punish himself, it was you.

(And now you would take it on twofold in his stead. What a joke.)

“You don’t often come here,” he’d said quietly, matter-of-factly. Devoid of judgement, though he didn’t bother to face you.

“No. I probably don’t spend as much time here as I should…,” your voice trailed off, and found new confidence, when you watched him stare at that stone. Hopelessly. You didn’t know all the details. But you didn’t need to. All you knew that it was simultaneously frustrating and pitiful. “And you probably spend too much.”

This time, he glanced back over his shoulder. You couldn’t exactly see through his mask, but he seemed… amused? “How do you figure that?”

“Call it a hunch.”

He chuckled, satisfied, and stepped back to give you room. “Then, I guess we balance each other out.”

“What a pair we are.”

“Right. Well, I better-“

You still don’t know why you decided to grab his wrist that day, when he turned to leave. You still don’t know why you couldn’t bring yourself to let go, either.

You still don’t know why Kakashi decided to stay.

***

Why did you flit so rapidly from anger to elation, and why was it always because of him?

You remember.

In hindsight, it had been your fault.

(What the fuck else was new?)

Retreat. Get out of here. It had been a simple order. But it had felt impossible, when the enemy appeared from behind, jutsu blaring, its raw power visible, that disgusting snarl on its wielders’ face - aiming for him.

You didn't think. You couldn’t think. You leapt in front of the attack within seconds, and your plan ended there.

The same couldn’t be said for your captain. With his signature finesse, with a rare scowl - you couldn't tell who it was aimed at - you were moved away, and the enemy deflected, in the same movement.

The battle had come to an end shortly after, through no fault of your own. It took all you had, but you bit your tongue as he scolded you, in front of your comrades, quietly healing your wound.

You had acted for his sake.

(How futile.)

Apparently, that meant nothing to him, not even worthy of acknowledgement. It wasn’t like you had expected gratitude - but for a man known for his stoicism to blow up, and because of you - it made you livid in turn.

The journey back had been silent, seemingly just so you could bask in your own shame.

So, when you were back in the sanctuary of your home, nursing your injury, your failure, and your pride - you hadn’t expected to hear a knock.

Nor had you expected him. Headband missing, brow furrowed and glaring at you in that way you couldn’t understand, much less accept. You’d made a mistake - of disobeying orders, of recklessness, of caring - but why the hell did he care in turn?

“What?” You had hissed, unable to contain the outrage of his interruption of your little haven. Not that it made it any easier to look at him. “You’re here to admonish me again?”

“What the hell was that?” He growled in turn. “You disobeyed my orders and almost got yourself killed.”

“I-,” your voice shook, tears pricked your eyes - he was right, even if it pained you to admit it, but it wasn’t fair. The space between you had shrunk. He was so close now that you saw the rise and fall of his broad chest beneath his vest - apparently just as outraged as you. You had never seen him like this before. “Why are you so mad at me? I was just trying to - I thought-”

“Am I supposed to factor in every one of your impulses? Why did you do that?”

You remember how you heard his heartbeat, pounding - pounding just as loud as yours was. And it depleted your inhibitions. “Because - because you were in danger, you asshole!”

You remember how he had gently grabbed your injured wrist, just as you were about to shove him. You’d anticipated his reflexes, but you couldn’t have anticipated his expression, when you finally met his gaze. You remember how swiftly he’d pulled down his mask, but you couldn’t have anticipated just how breathtaking he’d be, either. Nor how it could feel when he kissed you - finally.

When Kakashi moved to pull away, of course, of course, you moved to pull him right back.

***

Why did you always let him leave?

You remember.

(If you knew how it would end, you never would have let him. Better still, maybe you never should have let him enter in the first place.)

Safe.

You’d never felt so safe.

When he’d appear and reappear at your apartment - the window, never the door, despite your half-hearted protests - waving with that stupid, adorable, one-eyed smile. He knew you’d saunter over, sliding it open with a matching grin, every time without fail.

(You always did. That much, you did.)

When he’d laugh, when you told him about your mishaps. You’d laugh at his in kind - though it didn’t suit you, and you replaced it with your usual sympathetic ear. When you’d accompany him to the memorial stone, and pull him way just at the right time. When he’d pull you away, too.

(What a fool.)

When he’d unmask himself around you, and you pretended not to notice, like it didn’t floor you. When you watched him struggle to decide whether he was relieved or offended. When he kissed you, in that indescribable way that wavered between tentative and determined, soft and powerful, usually choosing the perfect time to flit to the latter, making your knees buckle in the process.

(What a fool.)

When he’d undress you, and no matter how desperate he’d seem, how he always paused to take you in. When he’d move in you, filling your heart and body so much that you thought you might burst. When he’d hold you just that little bit closer, tighter, longer every time.

(What a fool.)

Even when he’d leave, sometimes after you’d fallen asleep, sometimes before - sometimes in the morning - when he’d leave for a day, a week, a month - you felt safe.

Because you knew, in the deep recesses of your heart, that each time you saw him wouldn’t be the last.

(What a fucking fool.)

You remember the first time he said it. Quietly, earnestly, unceremoniously.

“I love you,” Kakashi had murmured into your ear one night, when he was so, so sure you were sleeping.

***

Why did you ever dare think you had any cause for optimism?

You remember.

The two lines, glaring upwards and through you, from that unremarkable little piece of plastic. They’d ran parallel - you thought it apt, just like your trepidation and your excitement. The lines would never meet, though.

(How apt.)

You’d been happy. That was what had shocked you most, save only for the very fact of you being in this situation in the first place. But behind the fear, there it was. A little glow, a nucleus of hope and future nascent deep in your centre, spread through your heart and speckled to your fingertips, your face, your smile - that paired flawlessly with the little bundle of meaning, the combination of you and him budding in your belly.

(Buds drop off before blooming all the time.)

You thought it’d be easy.

(How stupid.)

You thought you could share it all with him right away.

(You wished.)

But there was a part of you that faltered, when he’d show up at your window in that deceptively lax way. The words stuck in your throat, whenever he asked you if you were alright. The ease of his question didn’t match the weight of the truth. It almost felt… cruel.

Maybe his fears would eclipse yours, and all that euphoria you’d harboured would dissolve. Maybe he’d be angry, though you suspected that even if he were, it’d be short lived. Maybe you’d end up keeping him from his duty.

(Maybe you were just a coward.)

Regardless, your hands would float to your stomach whenever they weren’t occupied. Regardless, your mind would conjure up a future, remiss of your own will, an idyllic scene of a child, a marriage, something so sickly sentimental that you wanted to scold yourself. Regardless, it gave you hope.

It was enough, you’d decided. You'd get over it, face him and your fears, because what was waiting on the other side was so good that you’d forget that you had any in the first place. You’d do it.

You’d tell Kakashi the next time you saw him.

***

Why did it always feel too soon, each time he let you go?

You remember it, the last time it happens.

How could you not? The moon’s luminosity the perfect backdrop, incandescent, illuminating that wild silver hair, that crimson eye, that tired eye. His blood gleams under its splendour, under the green light that emanates fruitlessly from your delicate, shaking fingers. Softer than his, but no less enduring.

It’s all so disgustingly poetic.

He refuses to scream, or shout - just whisper your name, in that restrained, ever-abiding tone. It’s never made you want to scream out more in his turn. You would have done anything to absorb it all in its stead.

“What are you doing here?” he demands, as if he has the energy to. As if you can answer. As if you don’t see the wounds, the bloodshot-eyes, that compliance of his own mortality. His hand - the one that you were stupid enough to trust in, to think was strong - clenches around yours, calloused, then weakens, loosening its grip. He follows it with another impossible, familiar order. “Get out of here.”

“Shut up. Don’t die on me - please,” you beg, coughing up your words in between the sobs that spill forth, onto his face. The ache, the deep, sharp cramp in your hips, the agonising spark that spreads throughout your lower body, and you repeat your futile mantra two-fold.

(It hurts. It hurts so much.)

“Y/N, I- I’m sorry,” he begins, moving to use his dwindling force to brush away your healing fingers, “it’s too late for that. Just get somewhere safe. Please.”

“Shut up,” you repeat. You gasp hoarsely, reinforcing your grip. The pain deepens, in the pit of your throat, your heart, and in your womb, amalgamating together inextricably in some hellish concoction just for you and you alone. “Shut up.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. His eyes lid, and suddenly that scar never seems so cutting. It’s all so obvious. He just looks so tired, so… resigned. As if he’s been waiting for this. “I love you.”

“I love you too. So you can’t-”

“It’s over. You know it as well as I do.”

Somewhere, somewhere deep down, you always knew. You knew, but never wanted to admit it. He’d made his peace with dying, long before you ever met, and you can’t hold him back any longer. It almost feels… cruel.

(Not as cruel as him.)

His hand drops, dropping with a graceless thud against your damp thigh. “Y-you’re covered in blood. That’s all mine…?”

“Yes,” you lie, voice as thick as the mixture of blood and tears that stain both you and him. “Don’t worry about me.”

He stops - and you almost think he’s going to call you out, like he’s done so many times before.

(You wish he would.)

You’ve never been able to dupe him. But instead, his eyes crinkle at the corners.

(You love him. You love him so much.)

He smiles that hidden smile, one last time.

His fingers that fight with yours give up, one last time.

He whispers your name, one last time.

Why did it always feel too soon, each time Kakashi let you go?

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #kakashi #hatake kakashi #naruto #kakashi imagines #kakashi fanfiction #pfwrites #next up is the Yamato one eeeek #i ain't never written yamato in my life send help #WHY DOES MY STUFF NEVER SHOW IN TAGS??

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malfoys-demigod · 4 years

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Turbulence - Draco Malfoy x Reader

requests: Hi i don't know if you take confession, but Hufflepuff! and muggle!Draco has been flooding my mind in recently. Love your writings by the way, keep it up! 😳👌💕💖 // Hi if you're open for requests, can I request a post-war draco x reader in which they are going for their honeymoon or sumth and its her first time by plane. So when a turbulence strikes she gets really scared and thinks they're going to die so she just keeps hugging him till it ends? Sorry if it's too much :[]You didn't ask, but lemme share something i thought bout with you

A/N: I decided to combine these two requests since one wasn’t as specific. I hope you enjoy!

requested by: @sycathorn-slush @amiiretto

@the--queen-of-hell

Draco had always fancied you. It was really astonishing to believe honestly. You were two things he tried either despising or avoiding, which were being a Hufflepuff muggle. So it was astonishing for the entire school to believe. You fancied him as well of course but you structured your mindset to think differently.

Knowing that you were things that Draco did not like, you told yourself that you and him would never happen in a million years. But it did not stop you from constantly watching him from afar or watching his every Quidditch game he had. You just never knew that the idea of him actually liking you would be possible.

The first actual interaction with him was when it was during your third year. You were spending your free period in the hospital wing being taught the basics of healing by Madam Pomfrey when all of a sudden, Hagrid bursted into the door, holding Draco Malfoy who seemed to be in some sort of pain as he was yelling at Hagrid things that were hard to decipher since he kept rambling.

All lessons about healing fractures and bones were at a pause as you and Madam Pomfrey rushed straight away as Hagrid placed Draco onto the nearest hospital bed. You couldn’t believe it. You were about to help heal Draco Malfoy. It was insane to believe that you were actually going to talk to him instead of avoiding him in order to not be called a ‘Mudblood’ in front of people. Besides, there was no way he was going to call you that in front of two respected authorities of the school.

“What happened, Mr. Malfoy?,” Madam Pomfrey asked as she examined the arm.

“Hagrid’s bloody chicken is what happened!”

“Buckbeak is a kind and loving creature!” Hagrid protested in a pleading voice.

“Looks like a minor injury that Ms. Y/L/N can perform,” Madam Pomfrey said after analyzing Draco’s state, “Have a go with Episkey while I look for an arm sling, dear.” she said, looking at you with a motivating look.

Draco looked at you with disgust as he watched you pull out your wand. You were already expecting an insulting comment from the pureblood but he surprisingly said something different.

“You think you can pull this off, Y/L/N? I think we can all agree that I’d need my arm back in the game for my next Quidditch match.” he asked calmly.

You gave him a small nod since you were a little unsure if you could actually pull it off. “Episkey!” you said, fixing Draco’s small injury. You wanted to jump for joy because this was the first time you assisted someone and it was Draco Malfoy!

He looked at you with a stunned expression as he started moving the joints of his arm slowly, feeling that there was no pain.

“Why are you here, Y/N? Shouldn’t you be off with your muggle friends doing muggle things?” he asked, trying to avoid showing thanks and gratitudes to you.

“I really value hard work and helping others in need and what better way to take interest in being a healer?”

“Huh, such a Hufflepuff I see.,” was all he said since Madam Pomfrey came back to assist him in wearing a sling.

When everything was all finished, Draco simply turned around and started making his way out of the Hospital wing.

Even if Madam Pomfrey gave you the thanks and acknowledgement for being an excellent healer, which was something you were praying for, it all suddenly did not matter. You were now craving for the thanks and acknowledgement of Draco’s as you were surprised he did not say anything bad about your blood status.

Nevertheless, you had to be grateful that he did not trash talk you about anything. You had to thank Helga Hufflepuff for giving you a decent small talk with Draco Malfoy.

Later on during the afternoon, you were entering the Great Hall as you were on your way to meet up with your friends by the Hufflepuff table until suddenly, your tracks had stopped.

“It comes and goes,” said a familiar voice.

You turned to see Draco Malfoy from the Slytherin table talking to his group about his injury.

Pansy was sitting so close to him, examining the injury as Draco continued the conversation.

“Still, I consider myself lucky. If it wasn’t for Madam Pomfrey and her apprentice Y/L/N, another minute or two, I could have lost my arm. Couldn’t possibly do homeworks for weeks.”

Your knees started to weaken as you heard Draco acknowledging you. This was impossible to process as this was probably the first time he’s ever talked good about you. This was put to the test when Pansy looked at him with a bad look.

“Y/N Y/L/N? The muggle? I thought she was useless!”

Draco removed her hand from his arm as he leaned away from Pansy in an instant. “I’ll have you know,” he said, “her dedication and loyalty to being a healer saved me. Like I said, if it wasn’t for her, I could have lost my arm. What part of that don’t you get, honestly?” he snapped.

As he was looking away from an irritated yet ashamed Pansy, his eyes met yours, as you were still standing in the middle of the Great Hall like a lost puppy. You wanted to run away from the situation you were in or at least walked away and pretended you did NOT lock eyes with the person you should have been avoiding your entire life.

But no, taken by surprise yet again, Draco Malfoy gave you a small smile, nodding at you then turned back to his friends. You wanted to look behind you and assume that it was for someone else but you had to be serious, there was no possible way it was for someone else. The table behind you was Gryffindor’s and it would be highly unlikely that he just smiled at the golden trio who were also listening to Draco’s conversation.

From there on, a friendship with Draco started to grow. It took time for you and him to actually be friends. It started out with small talks initiated by Draco, which confused most of the students witnessing something they never thought of happening. Then it moved on to being seatmates and partners in every experiment or academic sorts. And finally taking the role of star-crossed lovers.

Nobody knew that this would ever happen but it did and some people were for it while some weren’t. You and Draco proved to society that your relationship did nothing but become stronger over the years.

Despite being a part of Dumbledore’s Army while he was a Death Eater, your relationship was complicated yet still strong. You knew in your heart that he was someone born without a choice concerning the situation. If he fought back or left the Death Eater’s there would be serious consequences including him, his family, and possibly you. That was why you brought your relationship to the “under the radar” stage in your life. Some people thought you finally broke up while some might have suspected that you were keeping things low.

It was true. Once the whole war ended, you brought your relationship back to life, back to the public’s eyes. Draco remained the same: he was madly in love with you while his parents changed their outlook on you.

At first Draco kept your relationship a secret from his parents. He only revealed to his parents that he was seeing you when things started mellowing after the war. He brought you to his home to meet the changed Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy who were actually pleased to meet you. The remarked you for being the “loyal Hufflepuff” by their son’s side and welcomed you into the family.

It only became official when Draco popped the question a year later. When things started getting better after the war, Draco was finally ready to take the relationship to different heights.

When he asked Lucius if he could receive the blessings of asking for your hand in marriage, Lucius was more than happy to finally hear that Draco wanted to marry you. As he agreed to bestow his blessings, he also wanted to show Draco his deep gratification of having someone like you in his son’s life by taking care of the expenses of the wedding and honeymoon.

After finally tying the knot, there came the honeymoon. The Malfoy’s wanted to openly open their arms of Muggle customs by paying for travel expenses for the honeymoon.

You were really excited to hear that Draco was open to the idea of traveling through an airplane.

“First class?,” you asked, “Really?,”

“Of course, love. I only want to give you the best.,” he said, kissing your forehead as you finally took your seats.

There was something you’ve been meaning to tell him. Surely it wasn’t something serious to anyone else if they have heard, but to you, it was a little serious since it was personal.

As you fasten your seatbelt, you looked down at your shoes with hesitation as you were bottling up the thoughts you had to let out.

Draco took notice of this immediately and placed an arm on your shoulder, tilting his head to look at you.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Did you forget something?”

“I have a confession, Draco.”

He looked at you with an eyebrow raised. “What is it, Y/N?”

“You’re not the only one whose never rode an airplane before.”

Draco exhaled in relief as he was thinking of many worse ideas in mind. He let out a small laugh as ruffled your hair, “My dear, you scared the bloody hell out of me. I thought of so many scary ideas in my mind.,” he replied, “Well, may this first experience we have together be the first of many airplane rides.,” he cheered you up.

You happily nodded in response as your head leaned on his shoulder, holding his hand with high hopes, only for these high hopes to turn upside down an hour later.

When the pilot asked for everyone to fasten their seatbelts to prepare for incoming turbulence, you were slightly concerned since you were unfamiliar with the experience of turbulence.

When the plane had its first shake, you felt as if your soul was about to leave your body as you held a tight grip on your arm rests.

“Huh,” Draco let out a small laugh, “Never knew airplanes could do that.” as he started looking around to see if there were any panicked riders. So far you were the only one spooked.

It only got worse when turbulence started striking again and again. You felt like you lost count of the number of shakes that the plane had encountered as you were focused on trying to release your fear by venting off the weirdest things you could think of to Draco.

“I swear,” you yelled, “WE ARE GOING TO DIE!”

“Dear-“

“Bloody hell, what if we don’t ever make it to our honeymoon?!” “Did you ever hear of what happened to Amelia Earhart?!? She was lost at sea after a bloody plane crash!! That could happen to us RIGHT NOW!”

Draco places his arms on your shoulders as he was sitting in an uncomfortable position since his seatbelt was tightly fastened. “Dear, I do not know who this Amelia woman is but I assure you, we are not going to die. If you were listening to the few stewardesses who came by, they assured us that turbulence occurs in almost every plane ride and it is not the cause of plane accidents.”

“What in Merlin’s beard do I do then?!”

Draco opened his arms, showing invitation to a hug, “Let me comfort you. Come and hug me and I promise I won’t let go of you until we reach our destination.”

You looked at him with fear but with his heart warming smile, the tension in your shoulders started relaxing as you finally inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Promise?” you asked.

“Honey, we just made vows recently. And aside from that, have I ever let you down?”

“I suppose not.” you said with a small smile.

“Now come and lean on my shoulder. Let me prove to you that I am a man of my words.” he softly said as you started placing your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm on your waist.

Feeling his warm body made you feel extremely comfortable as you started resting your eyes, which eventually led you to falling asleep and forgetting everything about the turbulence.

He was definitely a man of his words.

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razorblade180 · 3 years

Text

Twin Snowflakes 27:Hill climbing preparations

Part 26 here!<-

Rehearsals were going well. With Darren out of mind and no further incidents, students had gotten back into a steady blow of progress. The band was a little shaky at first but Summer had learned that Nick had a point about her being a bit strict in the beginning. With that hurdle jumped, Summer felt comfortable enough to take a short break. Her feet swung from over the stage's edge like a kid on a swing while she took a moment to call Oscar. It had been a few days since their last check in date. The fact that he didn’t blow her fun up meant his own hands were full. Fortunately, two rings was all it took before his face popped up on her screen, covered in what was hopefully seawater.

“Hi Oscar! Ummm sea life treating you will? You look a little…”

“Wet? Sigh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but I miss the cold of the tundra. All the storms and aquatic grimm yanking me off the boat is getting annoying. Anyways, Penny told me you had a little scare recently? Everything okay?”

“Yes, I think.” Summer rubbed her face. “Well…as okay as things usually get. I do feel better than usual. I’ve gotten to perform quite a bit the last couple days.”

“Really? Did you take my advice by any chance?”

A guilty smile found its way on Summer’s face. She couldn’t help but chuckle. “Nah. I’ve just been singing a couple of covers and a few originals that anyone with a radio has heard. The lyrics in the journal are just that, in the journal. I actually wanted to talk to you about a trick Nick got me to try. You’ve actually mentioned it once before early on.”

“Is that so- woah!” Oscar yelped, nearly falling from the rock of the ship crashing through a wave. “Hehe. Sorry about that!”

“Everything okay over there? I can call later?”

“No it’s fine; just rough seas. That’s good though. Challenging waves and other harsh weather factors have been swelling for quite some time. You’re too young to remember this but Atlas was actually a bit warmer. Hot places were cooler and sailing wasn’t as wild.”

“I’ve heard about that in class. Don’t scientists think it might have something to do with magic being back?”

“Or the gods roaming through Remnant.” He smirked, confident about the latter theory. “Harsh conditions mean it’s difficult to press forward. As if the world itself is trying to keep things away. With a little luck, passing these hurdles are all the answers we need.”

Answers. Summer couldn’t begin to imagine having those. It was more terrifying than reliving if she had to be honest. She wouldn’t know what to do if the gods themselves didn’t know what to do. The only thing worse is them saying she couldn’t do anything.

“Let’s cross our fingers you aren’t on a boat for nothing. Speaking of Shiva, Nick talked me into entering my headspace willingly. I was even able to manifest a shovel in it!”

“A shovel?” Oscar quirked his head.

“Yeah it wasn’t the usual blue empty space. It waslake; the lake as a matter of fact. I chucked a shovel at Shiva and told her to start digging her grave.”

“Nick told you to do that!?”

“Weeeeeeell… he only told me to confront her with unwavering resolve in a way Veronica would. I’m pretty sure that meant being cut throat but I may have defaulted to cock intimidation. Pretty sure I stoked the flames of war. But it felt good!”

The cheerfulness in her tone was genuine. While manifesting and confrontation was something Oscar had tried to get her to do early on, there are ways to go about it. Headspace or not, poking at a beast was always risky. “I’m glad you’re feeling good, but exercise caution. I wouldn’t try that alone. There’s a lot we don’t know about that space. I doubt you can actually die there but if that really is your mind you're traversing then serious backlash might happen if things go wrong. Remember, Shiva has an edge. Don’t let her play you in your own head.”

“Believe me, that’s the last thing I want. I’ll be careful Oscar. Thanks for worrying about me. Couldn’t ask for a better therapist”

“I wouldn’t go that far. Ruby and your dad give some pretty solid motivational speeches.”

Hehe, don’t sell yourself short. I should probably get going. Good luck! Watch the gods tell you to perform an exorcism or drown me in sacred water.”

Oh if only it was that easy. “If she had any signs of a soul I would’ve tried that already. Take care Summer. Call me when you need me”

“You know I will.” She hung up and looked over at Nick. A few of the girls had taken the opportunity to strike up a conversation with him. In typical fashion, Nick just let them fawn in vain. “Geez, take a hint ladies.” She mumbled.

“Oh my gods! I wasn’t aware you could sing!”

“So talented!”

“Can you sing for my birthday!?”

All the back chatter and compliments made it hard to focus on one person. Nick did his best to calm them all, giving a faux laugh and smile. “Hehe, thanks. I can hold a note, I’m not as good as my sister, and I’m way too sheepish to sing at a birthday. Now we should probably get back to working maybe? Practice is almost-” his eyes caught the door entrance before he finished. Valerie had walked in.

As if by will, her head automatically turned to meet his eyes. Valerie couldn’t help but give some kind of disarming smile, giving a small wave that was quickly rejected when Nick went back talking to the people around him. Not even Valerie could deny that burn. She put her hand down before she felt anymore like an edit, walking over to Eliza to get what she had to do over with.

“Hey soldier.”

“Huh? Well look who finally decided to show! I expect more from a representative of this school.”

“Oh brother…” Val couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “I’m not even gonna pretend that I’m sorry like I usually do. Look, at least I did what was asked of me. Boiler is fixed for now and there should be no problem getting hot water when the big day arrives.”

“Keep a keen eye on it just in case. I don’t have any time to deal with tiny problems during the tournament.”

��Yeah you and everyone else in this room. Now if you excuse me.” Valerie pointed both thumbs back and tried backing up slowly.

“Hold on…”

“Uuugh. Yes? I got plenty of practice to work on. Make this quick.”

Eliza narrowed her eyes. “Wow, someone is more aggressive than usual. If that’s how you’re going to be then I’ll spare you the lecture. Just know you better be careful or I might pull the rug out from under you this year.”

“Hmph, bold words. You gotta make it to the top of the hill before challenging the ruler. Though you’re more than welcome to kick Nick around and take his spot for all I care. See ya. Just text me the meeting information. Got things to do.” Valerie turned around and headed off. On the way out she saw Summer staring at her with a raised eyebrow from afar. To make matters worse, the cheerleaders moved by the exit. Veronica being among them. Valerie was ready for some kind of sly comment but to her surprise Veronica briefly acknowledged her, nodded, and then went back to what she was doing.

Eliza looked at the time and figured everyone made enough progress for one day. “Alright everyone! You can all start wrapping things up. I’m sure all of you have things to-” the sound of everyone packing their belongings overpowered her voice. “Do.” She finished. At least she could trust everyone to clean up on time. “Nicholas, get your butt in gear.”

“Oh thank goodness!” Nick wasted no time squeezing his way through the girls that lingered around him. “Sorry! The VP calls! Let’s go Summer!”

“Right behind you.” She turned towards the band. “It would be a good idea for you all to practice a little longer. Not because you may or may not need it but because I’ll finally give you room to experiment. Just no funny ideas about adding drum solos.” Summer hopped off stage and headed off, quickly catching up to Nick, Eliza, and Veronica. “Well aren’t we an interesting looking bunch?”

“An idol, witch, heir, and fashion designer. This is the beginning of a bad joke I’d say.”

“Bold of you to call someone a witch when they’ve agreed to help you train.”

“Would you prefer magical girl, or maybe sorceress?” Nick nudged her.

“I prefer my name. However…sorceress is endearing, I suppose.”

“I could call you that while you teach me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” She said in a shrill voice. “I’m already regretting this.”

“Well while you two train to death, I’m finally going to get some real shut eye. I can hear my bed calling my name already.”

“Not so fast.” Veronica interjected. “Since we ended up being free at the same time and I have to work a little more diligently…”

Summer didn’t like where this was headed. “Veronica, my hot headed designer, I’m well aware of what it’s like to be a perfectionist. However, please don’t rope me into this.”

All three of them looked at her at once. “It’s your dress!”

“I know that! No need to remind me! I am tired though. It’s Monday, the weekend was crazy, and I just put in a full day of school with extra curricular activities. Allow me two hours at least!?”

“Ugh, ever the whiner. Fine but I don’t want to hear any complaints about design. Most would be thrilled to be heavily involved with their clothing.”

“Well consider this a show of good faith towards your skills.”

The four of them continued to talk all the way to the manor. Eliza tried to stay on important topics while Nick did his best to keep things casual. It never really worked out considering Summer's insistence to not help her dear brother and Veronica’s curiosity about events to come. It was only when the girl’s feline ears twitched by the gate did she begin to quiet down.

“Hmmm?” She stopped immediately.

“Huh? What’s wrong Vee-”

“ACHOO!!!” The girl yelled. The sneeze was so strong Veronica lifted off the ground slightly. “Phew…sorry about that.” She sniffled her loss and continued walking like nothing happened, leaving everyone confused. Veronica was the first to enter with everyone lagging a bit behind. Her eyes looked around until they spotted her mother, Blake, coming down the stairs in casual clothes and wet hair.

“Hey everyone! Finally home I see? And with a friend?”

“Uh classmate. I wouldn’t exac…ummm that’s not important. Hehe, I’m Eliza Marigold.” She stammered. It didn’t really dawn on her that she’d be meeting Mrs. Belladonna herself today. “You look lovely. Though…you look a little red? Are you sick?”

“Oh it’s nothing! Just umm got out of the shower is all.”

Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s ma?”

“Out back with Jaune.”

“Really?”

“One hundred perfect!” Blake said, unusually preppy. “Well I don’t keep you kids held up. I’ll be in the living room. Nick, Summer, I think your mother is in the garden.”

“Cool. She must be setting up the candle test already. Follow me Eliza.” Nick took her hand and guided her.

“Think I’ll get lost or something?”

“No, I just don’t need you judging every inch of this place until you find something to criticize.”

“……It’s too bright in here.” She heard Nick snicker at her attempt. “You suck.”

With those two out of the way it was time for Summer to mosey to her room. “Finally, nap time!”

“Don’t you wanna practice too?”

“What they’re doing is something I already know. Besides, Nick and I do most of our practices separate. He’ll get me when he needs me. Wake me up if you need anything.”

Veronica waited for the girl to get out of sight before giving her mom a look meant to inspire shame and embarrassment. “Really? We’ve been out all day ya know? You had plenty of time.”

Blake put her hand over Veronica’s face. “Shush your face. It happens sometimes. Thank you for the heads up.”

“Y’all are gross but that’s nothing new. I won’t mention it again if you could bring dinner up to my room. I’m gonna be spending quite some time in there.”

“Even across the world I guess some habits don’t change. Deal.”

xxxxx

In the garden, Weiss stood on the balcony with a cup of coffee. The sound of footsteps behind her caught her ear. She was more than a little surprised to learn that they belonged to not just Nick. “Eliza?”

“Mrs. Schnee. Thank you for allowing me in your home.” Eliza gave a curtsy.

“How’s your father?”

“Oh you know him, always up to something.”

Weiss wasn’t sure if that was good or bad considering his track record. “I see. Well make yourself comfortable. Nick, everything is already set up. Never would’ve thought this is how you’d try to get this done. Don’t push yourself.”

“Heh, push myself? Me?”

Weiss playfully rolled her eyes and left the balcony, ruffling Nick’s hair on the way out. Nick looked at Eliza confused. “You know you don’t have to be so formal around her, right?”

“Let’s not focus on my speech and pay attention to why we’re here. Anyways, how does this training work exactly?”

Nick walked to the railing to point at the fifteen candles spread throughout the garden. “The goal is to light all the candles at once without burning anything. It’s harder than it looks. It requires timing, speed, accuracy, and control above all.”

“Never took you for one who cares much for traditional methods of fighting. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you use your glyphs to manipulate the elements.”

“Yeah, because I suck. Summer on the other hand…” He hunched over in defeat. “Not so much.”

Eliza couldn’t help but scan the area multiple times. This couldn’t be all there was to it. Could it? The five candles in the actual hedge maze looked a little challenging, but Nick was…Nick! Despite her reservations about his attitude, he was smart and knew how to work.

“Do you increase the candle amount as you go?”

He nodded. “That’s the natural progression. Summer can do thirty without thinking much about it.”

“Meanwhile you can’t even do half that amount. You sure you’re the older twin?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant.” He pouted. Nick grabbed his sword and got into his low stance.

“So I’m just supposed to observe you?”

“No. I’m going to need help with the fires too.”

That’s not something she wanted to hear. “Tsk, alright. But first, let me see if I’m able to do it. Wouldn’t be that good of a teacher if I couldn’t.”

She climbed on top of the railing to get a better look. She raised her right hand to the sky and took a breath. Five flames ignited her fingertips as she thought of the best approach. Moments later, Eliza launched all five with a downward swing, another five swing left, then the final five to the right. Each flame danced on the winds below them before finding their targets.

Amazed, Nick’s jaw dropped for a second before saying anything. “First try!?”

“Not exactly. You did say all at once so that may have been cheating. Let me try again.” She wrapped both arms around herself then swung them out, causing a gust of wind that blew out the candles.

Nick watched closely. Breathing, posture, line of sight; anything he could to gain knowledge. Eliza cuffed her hands together. A small flame flickered into existence and grew slowly until it was the size of a baseball. Eliza threw it over the garden underhanded. The moment it reached max height she pushed her hands downwards like if she closed a lid. This made the flame split apart into embers that fell quick enough to reach each candle. Nick couldn’t believe she was two for two.

“Seems I got the hang of it.” Eliza blew the candles out and hopped off the railing. “I’d do it while off the railing but I’m positive we know the results.”

“Yeah no kidding. While I’m lucky I picked the right person to help me, doing that so easily kinda stings. Not gonna lie. You really are a sorceress.”

“Tsk, flattery gets you nowhere. Assume your stance.” She ordered. Eliza kept a close eye on Nick. He opted to square his feet with his shoulders, a sturdy stance for sure. “So far so good.” His blade pointed up and outwards. A red glyph began to form at its tip, conjuring a ball of intense flame that was as big as a softball. Eliza’s eyes narrowed. She could not believe what she was watching. “You’ll miss.”

“Huh?” Nick said, trying to focus.

“If you shoot the fireball then you are going to miss.” Eliza channeled a silver orb in her palm that bursted into shimmering light. Nick’s glyph suddenly vanished and took the fireball along with it.

“Hey! Don’t just negate my semblance out of the blue! I didn’t even shoot it yet!”

Eliza wasn’t sure what she had expected from this training. It was clear now why a talented person like Nick was fumbling. Frankly, it was annoying. Down right inexcusable. Eliza folded both her arms. “You’re so idiotic in the strangest ways possible, you know that right? To think you’re stronger than me?”

Nick huffed. This wasn’t constructive at all. “You gonna actually help, or continue to insult me? If I knew how to do this on my own then I wouldn’t ask for help.”

Nick ran his hand through his tangled hair and let out a sigh. Eliza could tell he genuinely had no idea what was wrong. It kinda got to her. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be picking on you like that. You weren’t wrong to ask for help.”

“Normally I have an inkling of how to progress but I’m hitting a wall. All of this is just…”

“Too much?” Eliza leaned over and thumped his head. “Because it is. That’s exactly your problem. You are doing far too much at once. Why are you trying to do so many steps at the exact same time?”

“What do you mean at the exact same time? All I did was make a fireball.”

Eliza could feel her eye try to twitch. “Okay. I should’ve expected that from you. Guess I’ll teach by showing.” She stood beside Nick and made a flame. “See? Now this is as basic as it gets, just straight up fire. A fireball requires controlling the shape of the flame;maintaining its heat as well.” The flame swirled around itself to make just that.

“Okay? I’m following you so far.”

“If a fireball was all you were making then no big deal. However, I just saw you attempt to make a fireball that has to keep its shape, burn hot enough, long enough, and must be aimed at multiple targets at once. No mind can do all that on a dime. It’s simply too much.”

Nick watched Eliza move behind him, putting her arms right on top of his, guiding his movements as if she was holding his blade. Her chin rested on his shoulder to get a clear line of sight. Nick was no stranger to being led through an attack, but man was it weird to have Eliza this close!

“Ummm…”

“Bear with it and focus.” She uttered, trying not to yell in his ear. “Make a flame. Just a flame. Let it heat swell and dissipate in sync with my breathing.”

“Shouldn’t it be with my own?”

“Not when your heart is beating like a drum. To think Nicholas Schnee would lose composure from a girl touching him?”

“Can’t hear you, focusing.” He was trying anyway. Eventually he managed to slow his heartbeat. He could tell Eliza was taking deep breaths on purpose to help. In sync, he made another fire glyph as she ordered.

“Good, now make it as hot as you want, then make it into a ball.” The flame shaped into the size of a baseball this time. Eliza smiled. “See how easy it is to control the size after you’ve completed the previous steps? You’ll save dust this way.”

“What’s next?”

“Aiming. You already know where your targets are but you also aren’t in a rush. If you need time to make a shot then all you have to do is make the time.” Eliza raised Nick’s sword higher in the air. “Launch it into the air, confirm where you need the fire to hit, then guide the flames to it.”

Nick took a deep breath and launched the fireball ball in an arch over the garden. He waited for it to reach the middle and fall briefly before making it burst into smaller flames that hit the candles. Eliza finally let go so he could pump his fist into the air.

“Woohoo!”

“Don’t celebrate yet, but good job. A moving target would be harder but not impossible. Repetition will allow you to eventually group certain steps together without having to think about it. You’ll get used to making fireballs that are a certain size and speed as long as you allow yourself to process each step as you are now. I noticed you let the fireball fall. Why?”

“I always end up not lighting them all because the fire dies too quickly. I realized the flame wasn’t hot enough the moment I shot it, so I let it get closer to the candles before having to split it up. Good thing you told me to aim higher or I may not have noticed.

“He can process things like that but not realize breaking the steps up will make things easier? How does his brain work!?”

Another gust of wind blew the candles out. “I’m willing to help you further but I think it’s time you held up your end of this bargain.”

“Antsy, aren’t we? Fair enough.” Nick put his sword down and sat on the railing. “What I’m about to tell you is going to make your tournament life a hundred times simpler. This is your second King of The Hill. Remember the rules?”

“Of course I do.” She followed his lead and sat down as well. “All previous tournament and combat skills leading up to the tournament are calculated so they can rank you compared to the other contestants. In order to progress higher you must defeat the person directly above you in the rank to switch places. Those who win are rewarded a reprieve from being challenged immediately to decrease rematches, but the loser can be challenged by whoever is directly below them. Conversely, if you challenge a person and lose, then you have to wait a set period before trying again while defending your current spot. The entire tournament is on a time limit that tests endurance, strategy, and the skills you’ve used all year. The winner is whoever is ranked number one by the end; the king of the hill.”

“Correct! It’s pure chaos. However, you forgot an important thing. You’ve participated once and managed to get third, so that’s automatically where you start.”

Eliza’s eyes lit up. “That’s a rule!?”

“Yep. As long as you still participated in prior tournaments this year, which you have. Congratulations on skipping the taxing part. Now you’re in the grueling section. The only way you go up is through me and Valerie. A slip up could cause you to waste too much energy and that could drag you out of third if you lose or even win against me immediately, because if I get challenged and win, then I can challenge you again before you challenge Valerie or after you hypothetically lose to her. Let that sink in for a moment.”

Eliza could feel her heart drop to her stomach. If she were to beat Nick and lose to Valerie then at best she’s at a third of her strength for a rematch she doesn’t want. Beating Nick was a goal but she didn’t need to do it twice in a day! The worst part is she is at his mercy in this scenario; getting a reprieve only if he needs one. He could very well best her and then she’s even more tired defending third place.

“Is it sinking in? Third place is its own special hell. Let’s knock Valerie into it.” He smiled.

“And how do we manage that exactly?”

“By knocking me into it! I want to take a dive in our match. A good one. The two of us will put on a spectacle to show our might that ends with me losing. This will throw everyone off into thinking you are exceptionally strong and-”

“Are you saying I’m not!” She folded her arms.

Nick chuckled nervously. “Let me finish before you get upset. Yes, you're strong, but will think you’re stronger than me by a decent margin. This is where the mind games kick in because the two of us haven’t actually used that much energy, but the other contestants don’t know that.”

Eliza rubbed her chin. “You…want them to fight you?”

“Exactly. No one's gonna pass up the opportunity to get a leg up on me. You know that better than anyone. Unfortunately for them, I’ll actually be trying against them and I fully intend to go end them quickly. This does multiple things. It makes the gap between the top three look bigger, allows me to stir the lower ranks rotation, keeps you rested, and makes Valerie anxious because you will not immediately challenge her. We are going to burn time until it gets to a point that once she’s knocked out of first, getting back up will be nearly impossible.”

“I fail to see how that’s possible. If she’s rested-”

“That’s just it, she won’t be. You can challenge her freely and not worry about me for most of the tournament. Use the time to learn how to fight her then I’ll challenge you again and win, then immediately go fight her. You’ll briefly be back in third place but fourth place holders will be exhausted and think twice about challenging you, Eliza Marigold; the person who beat Nicholas Schnee.”

“You made a safety net for third”

“I made a safety net for you! I will beat Valerie so she’ll fall to second place and that’s where you jump in to knock her to third. By that point she’ll have to wait and losing twice in a row is gonna give people ideas. Even if she beats them it’ll be a race against the clock and you can challenge me to avoid fighting her if it comes down to that. Boom, guaranteed second place for you with a potential at first place.”

The plan was insane, daring, and yet clearly thought of. “This is…a lot. Not to mention not full proof. What if I actually don’t need you to weaken Valerie and can take first place for myself?”

“Then by all means take it. I’ll knock Valerie to third myself and then fight you. Careful though. If I win you’re stuck with her and plenty of time you have to stall.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. “What if I refuse this off altogether?”

“That’s fine. We’ll just all have to do our best.”

“Your entire plan hinges on you beating Valerie. What if-”

“I’ll win.” He deadpanned. “I can take her this year. No questions about it.”

He started giving that same exact look he did a few days ago. “Not that I’m not interested but this feels a little unlike you.”

“Is that bad? People are always saying I’m too soft around Valerie. This is a tournament and there’s no rules against teamwork. You in?”

He hopped down and extended his hand. Nick did his best to seem casual about all of this but it was clear to Eliza he was pretty frustrated at Valerie. It wasn’t her place to pry. If he was willing to go this far then she might as well keep an eye on the entire thing. A chance to progress, and a good event. As long as those two things happened without incident then she had no reason to object. Then there was the other problem. She already helped him train…Eliza shook his hand.

“Glad to do business with you. I guess it’s only fair now that I give you the choice to stop training me. Wouldn’t want this to feel like I’ve gained so much tangible progress while yours relies on-”

Eliza tossed him his sword. “Quit with the chivalrous act. If I don’t train you to my standards then I’m positive your plan is bound to fall apart. Helping you here can only benefit me, or did you already forget I could teach you a thousand ways to improve your glyphs and still even the playing field?” She made another silver orb.

Nick gulped. He actually did forget how big of a pain in the ass it was gonna be fighting her. Semblance training doesn’t mean much if you can’t use it. “Have I ever told you that you can be terrifying and comforting at the same time?”

“Nobility should be just that. It’s why people like your face so much whenever you look like you beat the crap out of somebody.”

“People like my face because I’m handsome!!!”

“Less chitchat. More candle lighting.”

Nick hunched over in defeat. Marigolds, what can you do with them?

#rwby #rwby au #nicholas schnee #summer schnee #oscar pine #weiss schnee #blake belladonna #eliza marigold #val valkyrie #rwby twin snowflakes

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bnhayyy · 3 years

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The Call (4)

Chapter Title: Bonds

Wordcount: 5.8k

Fic Tag: Click

Ao3 Link: Click

Chapter Summary: Mikasa has a rough patrol with Annie, which managed to lead into a good day.

Notes: Ymir is far too fun to write. I can’t include her in every chapter, but my god.. I want to. Also! I would like to offer a big thank you to Celadon for continuing to help me with story planning as well as to Gabey and Cerdine for doing a spelling/grammar beta. Also, if you enjoy this fic, please consider sending me an ask, leaving a comment, or donating to my ko-fi!

Mikasa knew the difference a few nights of proper rest could make. However, there was a difference between knowing through memories that seemed to grow ever-distant and allowing herself to experience it once again. She felt... refreshed wasn't quite the word. It wasn't strong enough to describe the sensation that had grasped her. Even though her break had been interrupted by bouts of studying as she tried to play catch-up on her schoolwork, she still felt like new life had been breathed into her lungs.

The most unbelievable part? She had only allowed herself three nights. Somehow, those three nights had made a world of difference.

No, not 'somehow'. She knew exactly how and why.

Three nights of rest had done Mikasa a world of improvement because Erwin, Armin, and Annie were right. She had been wearing herself too thin.

Perhaps it was a little childish of her, but she didn't plan on admitting it to any of them. She didn't want to risk being faced with smugness - or worse yet - relief. It was bad enough that Eren had been following her around and shooting her looks of pleasure and pride since she woke up that morning. The real people in her life would simply have to be content with her changing her behavior and not making a big deal of it.

Or at least, changing her behavior as much as possible. Frequent breaks and regular relaxation time simply weren't something that a slayer could afford. Even if she wasn't alone, she would never be able to have a leisurely life.

However, it would be a lie to say that she had not started considering Annie's offer more seriously. She still didn't know if she could trust her, but she had already seen the wisdom in giving her a chance. This had added an element of temptation to that wisdom.

It was a Thursday, which meant no trigonometry. That meant her last class was at four in the afternoon, long before the sunset. She always left her slaying supplies at home on Thursdays and walked home to get them after class. It was never much of a problem for her. However, today it felt off. That temptation was following her, nipping at her heel with every step home.

She refused to acknowledge it outright. However, as it continued to nag at her, she decided that she could do something in the vicinity of giving in. She could acknowledge Annie's helpfulness enough to pay her a basic courtesy.

Mikasa nodded to herself. Eren gave her an odd look, but didn't comment.

His silence lasted until she had gone home, collected her things, and immediately went back to the door.

"Mikasa?" Eren was looking out the window, where it was still bright and sunny. His query was as plain as if he had spelled it out in neon technicolor.

Mikasa paused, hand on the doorknob, unsure of if she wanted to slump forward or sigh. In the end, she did neither. "I can start patrolling again," she said. "I should let Annie know before she wastes her time."

That was all. It was a sign of appreciation, an implication that she really was willing to consider Annie's offer, but nothing more. It wasn't a promise. It wasn't Mikasa letting anyone into her life beyond what she was forced to. It was just common courtesy.

Eren nodded, a playful glimmer in his eyes. Mikasa frowned, searching his gaze for vacancy or condemnation. She found none.

One of the odd things about Eren was that there seemed to be two different versions of him. Sometimes, he was distant and difficult to get a read on, cold, haunting, and unnatural. It was easy to remember that he was a hallucination when he was like that. Other times, however, he was animated and passionate, emotive and deceptively full of life. Whenever he was like that, she was sometimes tempted to think of him as an imaginary friend rather than a hallucination, for the other term began to feel irrationally cruel.

Because whenever he was like that, he reminded her of the boy she hadn't been able to save. He was easy to talk to as long as he was like this. Too easy. If it was consistent, she might find herself faced with a temptation that was even more dangerous than the one she was currently grappling with and far harder to resist.

Mikasa might start pretending that he was really there.

She supposed it was a good thing that he manifested in the other state fairly often. As such, even in the moments where she gave in and almost let herself pretend, she could rest assured that they would only ever be moments.

"You know, I think you and Annie could be friends if you tried to get along," he remarked.

Mikasa released the doorknob as she turned to frown at him. There had been some tension between her and Annie so far, but not anything that she would classify as not getting along. Instead of pointing that out, she asked, "What makes you say that?"

"You're pretty similar, even without the slayer thing." Eren grinned. "You could probably be pretty scary together."

Mikasa raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that?"

Eren faltered, his grin fading. "Ah," he said. "I just... I have a feeling."

In other words, it was just nice words in a voice that she had never stopped wanting to hear. Mikasa offered him a tiny, bittersweet smile. "We'll see," she murmured

"I'm glad that you're giving her a chance," he added.

Mikasa's breath caught in her throat as a thought occurred to her, unwanted and unbeneficial, but undeniable in how bright and fervently it manifested.

Would the real Eren want her to give Annie a chance? Would she even have a reason to?

Mikasa's gaze drifted then, past the illusion she was speaking with, as far into the depths of her apartment as she could look without turning her head. She refused to allow herself to turn her head, because if she did, she knew that she'd end up wandering back into the depths of her apartment, over to the chest that she kept her weapons in. She'd end up digging through it until she reached the thing buried at the bottom. And then she'd be too lost in guilt and grief to talk to anyone.

No. It had been over five years since that day, and she was a slayer. She had responsibilities that she couldn't neglect in favor of a memory. Even if that memory refused to let her go.

Besides, she had to talk to Annie. Speaking of which...

"Eren," Mikasa began, placing her hand back on the doorknob. "When I'm with Annie, do you think you can-"

"Go somewhere else?" Eren finished. Mikasa didn't let herself look at him, at the sad glimmer she was sure she'd notice if she did. He was painfully easy to read whenever he was like this.

"Yeah," Mikasa said. "It'll be easier without any distractions."

"Alright," Eren said. "Sure. I'll just..." He trailed off.

Despite her better judgment, Mikasa looked in his direction, only to see that he was already gone.

That was another thing about Eren. Hallucinations normally didn't go away when you asked them to, but sometimes he did.

If only it didn't make her feel so rotten.

Mikasa didn't allow herself to hesitate. With hesitation would come doubt, and doubt would make it too easy for her to turn around and run away. Instead, she walked onto the porch with all the ease and confidence that she didn't feel and raised her hand to knock on the door before she had even finished walking. Her feet stilled and she gave a single sharp rap with her knuckles.

She didn't need to knock a second time. Bertolt opened the door not thirty seconds later. Surprise flickered across his face when he saw her. It lingered as a friendly smile made its way across his face. Unsurprising. Mikasa knew that she hadn't exactly seemed like the friendliest person at their first meeting, and... no. Even if he had been at Erwin's meeting, she hadn't exactly been in a good mood then either. It likely wouldn't have done anything to help his impression of her.

She allowed herself to feel guilty for half a second before pushing the sensation back down.

"Mikasa," Bertolt greeted. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she said. "Is Annie there?"

"Yeah," Bertolt said. "I'll go get her." He began to turn around, only to pause, a frown flickering across his face. Looking back at Mikasa, he asked, "You didn't exchange phone numbers?"

Mikasa paused. "Uh. I..." Didn't think about it. "Don't use my phone that often," she said.

Her cheeks felt warm. Not warm enough for her to worry that she was blushing, but certainly warmer than she would have liked.

Bertolt offered her a small, sympathetic smile. "I know Annie forgets stuff like that all the time," he said.

Mikasa frowned; she couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a callout or not, and if so, whether it was her poor social skills being highlighted or Annie's. It seemed that she wasn't going to find out either. Before she could decide if she wanted to go ahead and ask, Bertolt had turned around and was walking away. However, he hesitated just before disappearing down the hallway.

"Ah, you can come in, by the way," he said.

With that, he was gone.

Mikasa hesitantly stepped into the house. It felt better than standing out by the doorway. At least, it did at first. A few moments of awkwardly lingering in the hallway were enough to make her reconsider.

Thankfully, those few moments didn't get to stretch into anything longer. Footsteps soon began to echo through the little household, making a warm ball of relief blossom in her chest and spread out into her shoulders, driving her to roll them and loosen her posture. The sound was quiet, but what she had seen of Annie showed that she was a light, agile individual. That meant that she wasn't trying to muffle her footsteps, which was reassuring for a reason that she couldn't put her finger on. More importantly, it sounded distinctly like they were heading her way.

Annie appeared a moment later. The first thing Mikasa noticed was that Bertolt hadn't returned with her. The second was that Annie was dressed casually, but also in clothes that looked like they could take a beating. That meant that she was almost definitely planning on going on patrol tonight.

It was probably a good thing that Mikasa had stopped by to give her the news, then.

When the other slayer came to a stop a few feet away from her, Mikasa said, "I'm feeling better now."

Annie sighed. "Right to the point," she muttered.

Mikasa frowned. "I didn't think you were opposed to that," she said.

"I'm not," came Annie's response. "But I find it hard to believe that a few nights is all it would take to recover from the state you were in."

Her words were placid, spoken in a way that made it sound like they could be concern or condescension, and Mikasa couldn't tell which it was supposed to be for the life of her. She didn't know if she should smile or clench her jaw. As such, she did neither and simply offered a wary, "I'm a slayer. I recover quickly."

"I know how quickly slayers recover," Annie said. "I know that there's a mental weight as well as a physical."

"Nothing that I can't handle."

Silence as their eyes met. She didn't know how many seconds passed as they stared each other down. When Annie finally sighed and looked up at the ceiling, it didn't even feel like a victory. It couldn't be; she could tell that Annie hadn't truly given up nor relented. She was just looking for an easier path.

"You think you're ready to start patrolling again?" Annie asked, still staring up at the ceiling. An obvious question, which was probably why she didn't wait for a response. "Then go with me tonight."

Mikasa narrowed her eyes. "I don't need a babysitter," she said.

"Good, because I don't babysit." Annie lowered her gaze to give Mikasa a once-over. "You might be right, but you might also be overestimating yourself because you feel better than you did before."

Mikasa moved to protest, and Annie's eyes narrowed into ice-blue slits. "Am I wrong?" she pressed.

Mikasa faltered.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Annie pushed. "If you can honestly tell me that you're in top shape, that there is no chance that you're jumping the gun, then I'll stay home and you can go patrolling at home. But if there is any chance that you aren't at your best, then be smart. Let me support you, and least for tonight."

Mikasa let out a long breath, but managed to refrain from averting her gaze. "Fine," she said. "Meet me at the cemetery in two hours."

Annie nodded. For a moment, that looked like it would be that. However, before Mikasa could start to leave, she reached into her pants pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. "Here," she said, thrusting it over to Mikasa. "My number."

A quick glance down revealed that it was, indeed, a phone number. "Did you have this written?" Mikasa asked.

"The walls here are thin," Annie said. "I overheard you and Bertolt. Now he can't fret about proper communication."

The corners of Mikasa's lips twitched up. "Smart," she murmured.

"Practiced," Annie corrected. "Bertolt likes to fuss."

Like Armin, Mikasa thought. Except she and Armin weren't as close as Annie and Bertolt probably were. They couldn't be.

Putting the piece of paper in her pocket, Mikasa nodded. "I'll text you before I set out."

"I'll hold you to it," Annie said.

***

Two hours later, Mikasa and Annie met in front of the cemetery. Eren was still conspicuously absent, which brought about a cocktail of emotions that Mikasa decided to simplify and call relief. Patrolling with someone else was bound to be stressful and off-putting as it was. She didn't want the extra difficulty that would come from trying to tune out a voice that only she could hear.

They worked in silence at first, the term "worked" being used very loosely. The lack of tangible demonic activity meant that they mostly walked through the cemetery on the off chance that something would appear.

About half an hour in, Mikasa cast Annie a pensive glance. She wondered if Paradis would see an uptick in demonic activity once word spread that there were two slayers. Most supernatural beings with half a functional mind would avoid a city that had a slayer, let alone two. Yet there were still plenty who wanted to test their strength or taste the glory of killing a slayer. Aggressive demons, particularly unhinged magical practitioners, even particularly strong vampires like...

"So," a drawling voice cut through the night, its tone caught somewhere between bored and smug. "You know each other after all."

...Ymir.

The reaction was instantaneous. Annie pulled the stake out of her pocket and took a step forward the vampire, only for Mikasa to reach out and grab the other slayer by the forearm. Annie whipped her head around to glare at her, but Mikasa looked beyond her glare, at Ymir, as she hissed, "Don't. She's the one I was talking about."

Annie's eyes shifted just enough to shoot Ymir a wary look. "At the meeting?" she murmured.

"Yes." The vampire grinned, and Mikasa lowered her voice as she added, "She's stronger than the others."

"Awww," Ymir cooed. "You've been talking about me? I'm flattered." She waltzed a few steps over to a gravestone, where she sat down and shot them a laughing grin. "Want to do an interview? I'd be down."

Irritation spiked through Mikasa at the vampire's words, sharply enough that she almost grit her teeth. It was some small consolation that Annie seemed similarly affected by her blithe attitude, but was a little less talented at hiding that it bothered her. One of her eyes twitched just before she gave the vampire a thoroughly unimpressed look.

"She won't tell us anything useful," Mikasa murmured. "We'll just be wasting time."

Wasting time - just like they already were by standing there talking about it instead of acting. She couldn't let Annie go charging blindly at Ymir expecting just another vampire, but they couldn't do nothing.

"I know she won't," Annie whispered. "The ones like her never do." She paused, just for long enough to shoot another quick glance at the vampire lounging on the gravestone, then added, "We need a plan."

"Or you could just ignore me," Ymir called, a hint of irritation seeping into her voice. "That sounds like a fun way to spend the night."

"We flank her," Mikasa instructed."You go left, I go right."

Annie frowned, a faint downward twitch of her lips, and something flickered in her gaze. It made Mikasa pause. For a second, the air lit up with tension as she waited for the protest that she was sure was coming.

It was killed by a single decisive nod from Annie. "Alright," she said.

Annie stepped to the side and turned around so that they were both facing Ymir. As Annie adjusted her grip on her stake, Mikasa shifted her bag down her arm so that she could take her crossbow out. It was already prepped and loaded. The nature of the weapon meant that she would have to pause to reload if her first bolt didn't hit. That didn't stop it from being an effective weapon that allowed her to keep a distance from her opponent while providing an intimidating air that often bought her a few extra seconds.

Normally. She didn't trust that an intimidating weapon would have much of an effect on Ymir. The crossbow's delay coupled with the vampire's speed meant that she might well have failed if she didn't manage to hit her with her first bolt. Even so, their previous encounter made her feel like long-distance combat was the better route with Ymir. Enough so that she couldn't help but be a little wary at the sight of Annie with her stake.

At that moment, Mikasa regretted that she had taken this long to remember how few supplies Annie seemed to have on her during their first encounter. She would have pushed her to prepare better if she had. It was too late to deal with that now though. She'd just have to hope that Annie would take her cues and do the smart thing, dive in for quick hits at the vampire before pulling back out.

Meanwhile, Ymir sighed. She got off the gravestone and rolled her shoulders with all the careless grace of a cat. "I told you last time that I'm not ready for a fight, Ackerman," she said. "What makes you think that I'd want to take both of you on at once?"

Her voice was casual in a way that bordered on arrogance. Mikasa noticed how it made Annie's shoulders stiffen subtly out of the corner of her eyes.

"You don't get a choice," the other slayer said.

Ymir raised an eyebrow. "Bet?"

And then they were moving. Annie charged forward and to the left while Mikasa slid to the right. Ymir, meanwhile, ran away. Away, but not out. The vampire didn't seem to be aiming to get out of the cemetery. It was foolish of her, but foolish in a way that was to their advantage.

Mikasa didn't try to aim quite yet. With both herself and Ymir running, it would be a wasted shot. Annie didn't have that hindrance. As she drew in close to Ymir, she reached into her jacket pocket with her free hand and drew out a knife. Putting on a burst of speed, she managed to get mere inches from the vampire and pulled up her knife to slash across her throat -

- Only for Ymir to come to a dead stop and duck. Annie's own momentum made her continue several paces forward and slash at empty air. At that time, Mikasa readied her crossbow. However, just as her weapon lined up with her target's heart, there was a flash of movement. Quick as a blink, Ymir rushed several steps back, leaving Annie standing in the line of Mikasa's crossbow, stake primed and frustration scrawled across her face.

"You guys really suck at this teamwork thing," Ymir called in a laughing voice. She was still running - not away, but circling the area like a vulture. Mikasa spun frantically as she tried to keep up with her, trying and failing to take aim. She was moving too quickly for her to shoot at her and throwing too many unpredictable twists and turns into her path for her to predict where she would be in a few moments. Annie, who had fallen back into pursuit, was hot on her heels - but not enough. There were simply too many routes for the vampire to escape.

"You seem like you're good at close combat," Ymir told Annie. "Doesn't mean a thing if you can't get close to your opponent though."

As Mikasa gave up on her previous tactic and opened her bag to exchange her crossbow for a stake, Ymir crowed, "And you." The vampire's voice had taken on a note of exhilarated glee. It reminded her of a cat toying with a mouse - or a hawk who knew that the cat couldn't catch it. "Crossbows are a lot harder to use on someone who's actively being chased. Although it looks like you've finally realized that."

Stake in hand, Mikasa charged on Ymir. It got a loud, barking laugh from the vampire. "Too late! Should've planned ahead of time." As she spoke, she twisted around and changed directions. Now she wasn't just running in circles - now she was heading out of the cemetery.

Fuck. Mikasa forced herself to run a little faster. She drew up the right while Annie went to the left. Once they were only a few feet behind Ymir, they both began to draw inward without exchanging a word.

For one intense, pulsating moment, it looked like they would catch her. They both had their stakes. They seemed to have the same thought. The vampire looked like she was lagging.

Then, when they were only a foot behind her, Ymir laughed and put on another burst of speed. Annie cursed and Mikasa grit her teeth, both pushing themselves to try and keep up.

It was no use. When Ymir reached the edge of the cemetery and jumped over the fence, disappearing across the street and into a line of houses in a span of roughly ten seconds, they knew it was over.

Annie was the first to stop, digging her heel into the ground and letting herself slide to a halt. Meanwhile, Mikasa slowed down, but didn't stop until she came up to the fence itself. There, she rested a hand on one of the wrought-iron bars and stared out at where the vampire had disappeared.

"She was right," Annie said.

When Mikasa didn't say anything, the other slayer continued. "We weren't in sync. We should have decided on one fighting style before going after her."

"You were going to say something," Mikasa said, still not looking at Annie. "Before we went after her. You were going to say something. What was it?"

Annie didn't say anything.

Mikasa turned around to look at her. The other slayer seemed impassive for the most part, but the way she averted her gaze gave her the sense that she was second-guessing whatever she was going to say.

That wouldn't do. Enough mistakes had already been made today. If what the other slayer had to say might turn out to be useful...

"Annie?" Mikasa pressed.

"I was going to say that we shouldn't fight her tonight," Annie admitted. "I meant that we need a long-term plan if she really is that much stronger than other vampires."

Mikasa frowned. "She's the one who-"

"I know," Annie interrupted. "That's why I didn't say it."

Mikasa gazed back out at where the vampire had disappeared. It grated her to know that they had missed an opportunity to take care of Ymir, that she hadn't been able to swoop in and put her down like she usually did. She was also certain that doing nothing wouldn't have helped. But at the same time...

"We do need a plan," Mikasa acknowledged.

"We need to be on the same page the next time we see her," Annie said.

The same page. That meant the same tactic.

"Long-range combat is safer, but unless we can catch her off-guard, she might be too fast for it," Mikasa said, looking back at Annie. "Toward the end, I think she only slowed down to mess with us."

"But we were doing better," Annie pointed out.

Mikasa resisted the urge to look away again. "We were," she said.

"So if she approaches us again, we should both focus on close-range combat," Annie said.

Mikasa stared at her. There was something a little aggravating about the certainty with which she said it, the confident gleam in her eyes and the way she held her head high. She couldn't tell if Annie thought that Mikasa had made a mistake, but she was definitely confident that her method was the right one for the situation.

It was aggravating. It was challenging. It was also, as she stared at her, more than a little captivating.

There weren't many people who were able or willing to go toe to toe with her.

Pushing the unusual feeling down, Mikasa forced herself to do one of the most difficult things that she possibly could.

"Alright," she conceded.

Annie gave a small nod before slowly turning around to head back into the graveyard.

They still had a long night ahead of them.

***

They encountered three more vampires over the course of the patrol; a busy night by Paradis standards. Unlike Ymir, the next two were dispatched quickly and easily.

By the time they killed the final vampire, it was almost a comfort to have Annie at her back.

***

Mikasa wouldn't say that she was in high spirits the next day. Such a thing was impossible. Despite the success of the patrol as they approached the end of the night, their failure to kill Ymir still weighed on her.

And yet...

And yet, for some unknowable reason, the world felt a little brighter.

That brightness was still lingering by the time her afternoon history class ended. It was the reason why when, instead of leaving, Sasha all but vaulted out of her chair and raced her way instead of just leaving, Mikasa didn't scramble to get out of the way to evade her.

She did, however, wonder at the excitement in the girl's eyes. There was nothing about Mikasa that felt like it should warrant that sort of look, yet there it was.

Moving at a rapid pace in a small classroom meant that Sasha very nearly careened into her and only caught herself at the last second.

"Jesus, Sasha!" Connie cried. He was still sitting in the seat next to Sasha's, but had maneuvered himself so that he was sitting backwards on the chair so that he could watch his friend. Despite his near-chastising tone, his expression held the glee of someone watching a trainwreck that was guaranteed to have no fatalities. An organized trainwreck. A monster truck rally.

Sasha didn't pay her friend any attention. Standing only inches away from Mikasa's face, she exclaimed, "Mikasa! Have you had lunch yet?"

Mikasa blinked. "No," she said. She usually skipped it.

"Great!" Sasha cried. "You're coming with me, then."

That was all the warning Mikasa got before Sasha hooked her arm in hers and started dragging her off. It would have been an easy matter to resist, but she hadn't brought her textbook with her and didn't have anything else to get before leaving the class, so it wasn't like she had any reason to write. More importantly, a combination of surprise and confusion was effectively preventing Mikasa from forming any higher thoughts for the time being. As such, she inadvertently submitted to being dragged around.

Connie stood up and trotted over to walk on her other side when they passed him. The movement pulled Mikasa out of her stupor somewhat, but Sasha still managed to get her out of the classroom and halfway down the hall before she could articulate anything. "I-"

"Don't bother," Connie cut her off, a playful grin on his face. "Sasha's made up her mind about something involving food. There's no stopping her now."

"Rude, Springer," Sasha said. "True, but rude."

"I'm just making sure Mikasa knows what your priorities lie."

Sasha let out a dramatic huff. Then, to Mikasa, she said, "We're meeting the boys in the food court. I thought bringing you would be a fun surprise!"

"The boys?" Mikasa asked.

"Jean, Marco, and Reiner," Sasha said.

"Oh," Mikasa said. "I didn't... know you all are friends."

She supposed it made sense. Reiner and Connie had been pretty friendly that time in Erwin's office, Jean seemed like he knew them, and Marco was friends with Jean. Connecting it all still made her head spin a little.

"Well, we're friends with Reiner and Marco," Sasha said. "Jean is more like..."

"A show horse?" Connie suggested.

"Exactly!" Sasha cried with a bright laugh.

"I see," Mikasa murmured.

So they all knew each other more than just in passing. They all liked each other - or at least got along despite a certain level of teasing. Again, it made sense. They were all socially outgoing. Meanwhile, Mikasa... well, she was outgoing. Social was another one.

And Sasha thought that bringing her over would be a pleasant surprise?

"Hey," Sasha said, her voice taking on a lower, softer tone. "You know that they all already like you, right?"

Mikasa blinked, a shred of surprise flickering across her face as she looked at Sasha. How on earth had she been able to read her so easily?

"It's true!" Sasha insisted, probably misunderstanding the reason for Mikasa's surprise. "We'd all like to get to know you more."

Ah. That made sense.

"Because I'm the slayer," Mikasa said.

"Because you don't get out enough and pretty much no one knows anything about you," Sasha countered.

That... was certainly a statement. Mikasa barely had a chance to process it before they had reached the entrance of the food court. There, as she continued eagerly tugging Mikasa along, Sasha nearly collided with her second person in less than ten minutes.

"Woah!" Krista exclaimed, taking a small, stumbling step away from the trio.

"Aah!" Sasha exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, Krista!" She held her hands up apologetically - both of them. Rather than simply letting go of Mikasa in order to do so, she interlocked her hand with hers and waved both of their arms about.

Krista shot them a warm smile. "Don't worry about it!" she said.

"Do you want to come to lunch with us?" Sasha asked.

"You're going to turn us into a caravan, aren't you," Connie muttered, but not without a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Oh, no thank you," Krista said, voice polite and sweet as could be. "I need to get to class! Thank you for offering, though!"

With that, she turned around and hurried off down the hall. Mikasa turned her gaze back toward the food court, expecting that to be the end of it. However, her gaze wandered back to Sasha when she noticed that she was staring after Krista.

"You know," Sasha whispered, "Krista's one of the nicest people you can find, but I don't think she has many friends either."

Mikasa frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Everyone likes Krista." Even Mikasa knew that much. 'Krista Lenz' was a common name to hear around campus. She was humbly intelligent, exceedingly kind, and involved in many school activities. From what she'd heard, she was about as close to a perfect someone as someone could get.

"Yeah, but that's not the same thing as having friends," Sasha said. "I don't ever see her hanging out with anyone in her free time. It's... it's hard to explain, but it's... it's like..."

"Like you can't process the thought of an angel amongst us gluttons and fools?" Connie suggested.

Sasha let out a disgruntled squawk, and Mikasa found herself having to lean back to stay out of the way when Sasha leaned over to swat at him.

"I just think she could use more friends!" Sasha exclaimed.

"It's Krista," Connie said, laughing. "I'm sure she has plenty of friends. Now let's get going; I'm starving."

"And you call me a glutton," Sasha teased.

"You are," Connie said. "I'm only starving sometimes. You, on the other hand, are a bottomless pit."

"Sure, sure," Sasha said. "I see how it is." She sniffed, then finally released her grip on Mikasa's hand to re-link their arms.

"Come on, Mikasa," she said as he began to drag her along once again. "Let's not keep Connie from his feast ."

Mikasa felt the corners of her lips twitch upward. "Alright," she said.

As she smiled and listened to the pair of goofballs banter, she found that she felt a little lighter yet. It wasn't the same sort of odd warmth that she'd woken up feeling that morning, but it was... nice. That feeling only grew when Sasha succeeded in pulling her all the way to the table where her group sat and, despite all odds and expectations, they all seemed genuinely happy to see her.

That afternoon, as Mikasa listened to everyone's conversations and even contributed to them a little, a faint, dangerous thought crossed her mind.

She could get used to this.

***

It was a few hours before the sun would set, and Mikasa was back at her apartment, staring down at her phone and the scrap of paper laid down beside it. At the digits scrawled across it.

She had been staring at them for longer than she would like to admit.

"The worst thing she can do is say no," Eren pointed out.

"I know," Mikasa murmured.

And Annie wouldn't say no. She knew that much. The problem wasn't the possibility of rejection - it was the simple act of asking.

"You're strong," Eren said. "But you're better when you're not alone."

Mikasa took a deep breath, and, despite the lightness that still lingered within her, refused to truly consider his words beyond their most surface meaning. The most important meaning.

Working with Annie was the smartest thing to do.

Carefully, she took her phone, put in the number, and sent a text.

Mikasa: Patrol tonight? - M

Annie: Alright.

Annie: We can train if you can come over early.

Mikasa blinked. Something that straddled the line between apprehension and excitement rose up in her stomach. She pushed it down as she typed out her response.

Mikasa: Sure

***

They only encountered two vampires that night.

Between her and Annie, they were two of the easiest kills that Mikasa had ever made.

#mikannie #mikasa ackerman #annie leonhart #annie leonhardt #ymir #sasha braus #bertolt hoover #snk #attack on titan #snk fic #the call #my fic #my writing

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irreplaceable-ecstasyy · 3 years

Text

ii. Possessive hand-holding (MARLENE)

The night stretched at the carnival and the ladies eventually found themselves having more fun as they immersed themselves in the atmosphere. The noises that had once irritated them settled into a subtle hum in the background and the blinding lights dimmed to a much lovelier glow, drowned out by their combined joy and enthusiasm. Much to anyone’s surprise, the corndogs became more bearable to Marya, and so did the other variety of unhealthy snacks that were sold at the stores with food coloring enough to paint an entire house. The clouds that littered the sky made it seem as though it had expanded the little box of a carnival that had previously blocked the sky with its menacing bright lights. It became breathable and more spacious!

The clowns that struck so much of fear in Marya now reduced her to a fit of giggles because of Hélène’s eagerness to prove to her that she could protect her. Her dear knight in shining armor whose methods of defense were words of comfort and throwing her fists in the air quite literally. Perhaps it was more of a way to distract Marya and she had to admit it was working very well. It may appear rather childish to the eyes of other but Marya adoredHélène for her thoughtfulness and courage to make her happy at the cost of her dignity. Not that she had little to spare. For Marya, she had dignity enough to supply ten lifespans.

After many headache-inducing rides, the ladies made their way to the game booths with a lot of optimism. Marya had a good aim and Hélène had passionate determination. There was no way this could go wrong with half a fraction of a probability that they might win something. They approached the most typical carnival game they found which was ‘Knock Down the Cans’ and it was a considerably easy start. Or to put it in better words, to Marya it was an easy start.

Marya went first to try her luck and on the first try, she managed to knock all six cans down. At least they knew the games were not rigged. Hélènetried her hand in the game but only managed to knock down the top three cans with the two remaining turns that Marya had left. They won a decently sized stuffed giraffe and Marya was quite amused by the choice. Hélène had the honor of carrying the giraffe with her as they continued to browse through the games.

Then they moved on to the next game which was a game of hoops and bottles. They were given seven hoops each and it was comical seeing how different the two of them played the same game. Marya was more focused on aiming the hoops onto the red bottle which was the jackpot for the biggest prize. Hélène, on the other hand, flung all the hoops with a single swing of her arm and depended on her luck to win; which she did. She landed a blue and a red, blue being the second biggest prize, and she grinned at Marya.

“Did you see that?” she exclaimed gleefully.

“It was hard to miss. No pun intended,” Marya laughed as she tossed her last hoop onto a yellow bottle which was the smallest prize.

Hélène slung an arm around Marya’s shoulders and chuckled pridefully (though, modestly). “I knew it would work!”

“You’re a lucky one, my dear. Of course, it would.”

After accepting their prizes, a large pastel rainbow plushie, a big llama and a small panda, they scurried over to another booth. They had to place all of the toys into Marya’s bag that was surprisingly enough to store their new family of toys and Hélène very kindly offered to carry the lot since Marya spent most of their time lugging that thing around unfashionably. Their next game involved a toy shotgun and balloons for targets in front of them of various sizes. The smallest would earn then the biggest price, and vice versa.

Hélène was so concentrated on getting the smaller balloons which stole Marya’s attention for a few good minutes. The way her tongue stuck out in concentration, how she kept one eye open to aim and her imperfect stance. It was hard to tear her eyes away from her. However, she had to. She could not keep the other bystanders waiting long for their turn with the game so she took her aim and fired her first shot. It hit one of the smaller balloons and she felt a burst of pride within her. She had five tries and now down to four since she had just used one. Aiming once more, she fired but it missed the smallest balloon by just an inch. The failure earned her a loud scoff from her left and she turned to see a woman who had been eyeing her with interest at his own station.

“You had a strong start. Let me show you how it’s done,” she hummed.

With his own shotgun, she fired a shot without so much of an aim and it hit the smallest balloon. It did little to impress Marya, and it only made her slightly infuriated. She was not about to have a carnival game explained to her just because she did not get that shot. But she decided to watch her for her own amusement. The woman, whose details she did not bother acknowledging, finished off the job. She popped all the small balloons within her range before settling the gun down on its stand. Marya’s face remained unchanged aside from the quirk of her brow as the woman turned to look at her with a charming smile.

“And that is how it’s done,” she chirped.

“Well, I never asked for a demonstration,” Marya responded plainly.

“You’re not angry, are you~?” she purred as she inched just a little closer.

Marya tutted softly. “It’s only a game, so why would I?”

“I do love a strict woman who knows how to speak up for herself,” the woman coddled as she extended a hand to accept his prize which he generously offered to Marya. “One for the lady?”

“I apologize but I cannot accept that.”

The woman pouted. “And why’s that? You don’t have to be so kind.”

“Made a new friend, ma belle?” Hélène interjected out of the blue and she stepped beside Marya. For a lady shorter than Marya and the stranger, she exerted quite a presence. She slid her hand into Marya’s and held it firmly, kind eyes fixated hard on the stranger.

Marya knew that look all too well. As composed as Hélène came to be, her play pretend could not go past Marya’s detection. The intensity in her brown hues and the smile that naturally came to her lips only meant that she was trying to put on an act to hide another burning feeling within. From what she could see, it was nothing too severe…yet. Hélène had patience tenfold of Marya’s but her protectiveness over Marya might reduce it tenfold as well.

“No, dear. She is simply a mentor. I missed a balloon and she taught me how to play properly,” Marya told her with a small smile, and her grip tightened on Hélène’s hand.

“Really? How thoughtful of you,” Hélène remarked, her smile growing sweeter.

“It was nothing really~ Couldn’t have a lady like her humiliate herself with such a simple game. Thought a prize would swoon her~” Gosh, the tone in that woman’s voice meant that she was not taking a hint and with how close she had scooted to Marya, the boundary stood thin.

Taking the situation into her own hands, Marya wrapped an arm around Hélène and pressed a kiss to her temple. Her hand still held hers which was highly visible to the woman’s vision. “We should get going. It’s getting quite late and we’ve got work tomorrow, haven’t we, love?”

“We do. It was a pleasure to meet you, miss. Have a great night,” Hélène wished quickly.

Marya maneuvered them away from the booth as swiftly as possible after a brief nod towards the woman, and she had not realized how tight she had been gripping onto Hélène’s hand until they reached their car. Marya unlocked it and released the hand to get into the driver’s seat silently. Neither of them spoke until they got into the car and drove away from the parking lot.

It was quite an eventful night and not quite the way they wanted it to end. Though, Hélène was rather astounded by the way Marya had complete grasp of the situation. She had been the one who wanted to diffuse it because of her budding jealousy but it was Marya who did it. The handhold, the kiss to her temple and the rapid excuse to leave. It was all Marya and Hélène could feel her love for the woman swell.

She spoke up bashfully. “Thank you for handling the issue.”

“It was hardly an issue to begin with.”

“It was going to be one.”

“True but the issue was only centered on that woman. I drew the line but she chose to step over it. I knew we had to leave then before it grew into one.”

“Smart move.”

Then there was a moment’s silence.

“Why’d you do it?” Hélène inquired all of a sudden.

Marya glanced at Hélène questioningly. “Did what?”

“Everything just now. You’re never open to PDA.” Even in the dark, Hélène could see Marya smiling fondly.

Sighing to herself, she held a hand out to Hélène for her to take and when she did, she brought her knuckles to her lips to press a lingering kiss. She did not lower her hand even as she spoke. “I wanted to show her that I already had someone to love. Someone I’m very proud of in all she does, even if she sticks her tongue out in concentration.”

“So you were showing me off?” Hélène joked with a light laugh.

“Sort of like that. Only because I’m proud that I have someone and I truly love you.”

“Marya Dmitrievna Akrhosimova! I never knew you were so corny,” Hélène gasped dramatically.

“Oh, shush… I’ll stop talking.”

“No, no! Go on, please!”

Marya shook her head but continued anyway. “After today, I really just… I’ve never appreciated you so much. From the clown incident at the start to standing up to that woman. You showed me how much you cared and I’m touched.”

“Aw… You big softie.” Hélène pecked Marya’s cheek gently and rested her head on her shoulder. “I love you, ma belle. So damn much. I hope you know that.”

“I do. And I love you too. So, so very much… Now, if you could just move back to your seat. Your head is very distracting.”

“But I’m comfortable.”

“Oh, you minx”-

“Alright, alrighty. Yes, ma’am~”

#the great comet #natasha pierre and the great comet #natasha pierre and the great comet of 1812 #natasha pierre & the great comet of 1812 #the great comet of 1812 #marya dmitrievna #marya dmitryevna akhrosimova #helene kuragina #marlene #maryalene #nat.writes #marya x helene

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writingblock101 · 4 years

Text

Test Day (Jason Todd x Reader)

This means I have officially written a quarantine fic. What a weird time to be alive. I also hit 500 followers so thank you for that!

Request for anon: Fluff #7 “Oh, would you look at that? There’s nowhere to sit besides my lap.” with Jason

Word Count: 1,900

Tags: @idkmanicantenglish

When your alarm went off, you wanted nothing more than to turn it off and curl up against Jason’s warm chest and pretend you didn’t hear anything. But instead, you had to be a diligent student who actually studies so you quickly shut off your alarm and try to creep out of bed, but Jason already heard your alarm go off.

“No,” He mumbles, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

You sigh, leaning back against Jason for a moment, relaxing in his hold.

“I need to study,” You tell him.

“Five more minutes,” He mumbles into your neck. “It’s too early to study.”

“Any time before 11:30 is too early for you,” You remind him. “My test is today, I’ve got to cram.”

Jason grumbles, tightening his arms around your waist.

“Jase, come on,” You start trying to uselessly wiggle out of his grip. “I’ve been procrastinating this whole week.”

He sighs but releases his arms. You climb out of bed, but turn and pull the blankets over Jason’s chest again and kiss his head.

“Go back to sleep,” You tell him.

He waves you off.

“Yeah, go study for your test,” He grumbles.

You can’t help but giggle at his grumpiness but quietly creep out of the room and brew a cup of coffee. Once setting yourself up at your kitchen counter, you begin the long haul of learning as much organic chemistry as possible. While you weren’t completely helpless, the quarantine forced your classes online and completely destroyed your motivation. You’d been lightly studying throughout the week, but today was grind day.

An hour later, Jason emerges from your bedroom, still looking sleepy and a little grumpy.

“Nice sweatshirt,” He comments, pressing a kiss to the side of your head then pours himself a cup of coffee.

You grin, tugging on the strings of Jason’s hoodie that you’re currently wearing. It’s warm, big, and smells like Jason. Honestly, at this point, it’s providing more emotional support than physical comfort.

“I’m surprised you’re up,” You comment, glancing at the clock over your oven which reads: 8:09 AM.

Normally, you and Jason didn’t even acknowledge the outside world until after 10 o’clock unless absolutely necessary.

“I don’t like sleeping in an empty bed,” He admits to his coffee. “I don’t sleep as well.”

Your heart flutters at the comment, but you ruin the moment when you look back at the practice test open on your screen. Oh, you’re still here. You squint your eyes at the old tests as if it deeply offended you (which is has by existing, thank you very much).

“Did you eat breakfast?” Jason asks.

“Not yet.”

Jason nods then opens the fridge and begins making eggs while you keep cracking away at old tests. He wordlessly sets a plate of food down next to you, kisses the top of your head, then sits on the couch to quietly watch TV and enjoy his breakfast.

A few hours pass as you keep doing practice problems and drawing figures and formulas on your little whiteboard. You’re starting to feel better about the test, but you’re still unsure. Knowing your professor, he’ll ask a question that you have all the information to solve, but no idea how to do it. Your stomach grumbles and you decide you should probably eat lunch.

When you get stressed or “in the zone”, your brain tends to shut off your appetite. You’d never noticed it until you started living with Jason and he pointed it out after watching you study for a final. Luckily, he’s helped you become more aware of it.

Speaking of Jason, he disappeared back to the bedroom about an hour ago, probably to read a book or do research for his next mission with the Outlaws. As a thank you for making breakfast, you fix him a sandwich along with your own and walk it back to the bedroom.

You find him on the floor, one of his dresser drawers open, surrounded by shirts. He brightens when he sees you walk in with food.

“How’s studying going?” He greets.

You shrug, handing him his plate.

“It’s going. I’m starting to feel better about it, but there’s still a lot to go. What are you doing?”

“Cleaning out some stuff,” Jason looks at his various piles. “I never really built my wardrobe back up after I came back, so a lot of this stuff doesn’t fit me.”

“Are you going to order some new stuff online?”

Jason frowns.

“Maybe? I don’t like buying clothes online.”

“You don’t like buying clothes period,” You correct with a smile.

“After all this is over,” Jason vaguely gestures to the air. “I’ll be more than willing to go clothes shopping for at least the first week when quarantine ends, so I’ve gotta make it count.”

You chuckle.

“We’ll go on a shopping spree,” You promise. “Well, I gotta keep studying--”

“Wait, why don’t you eat lunch with me?” Jason asks. “Take a break?”

“This is me taking a break,” You gesture to him. “I gotta keep going.”

“Come on, babe, you’ve been studying since 7 this morning. You can afford to stop and eat lunch.”

“The longer I wait to get back to it, the harder it’s going to be to start,” You shrug. “Sorry, Jase.”

He frowns, watching you leave the room to keep studying.

Two hours later, you’re still going strong-- strong as in you’re still looking at the material, but you keep getting the same style question wrong and you can’t figure out why.

“Okay, an amino has one nitrogen, so you add one, but an amide has one site of unsaturation so you subtract two which then makes it 2n+1,” You scan the possible formulas. “None of these answers have odd numbers,” You groan then flip through your notes, knowing you’re not going to find the answer because you’ve been looking for it for the past fifteen minutes and still found nothing.

Jason emerges from the bedroom again.

“Hey, babe, how’s it going?” He asks, getting something to drink out of the fridge.

“I can’t figure out how to do these stupid problems,” You groan. “I could do them on the last test, but now I can’t do them with amino or amide groups because Dr. Meades never told us the corrected formula.”

Jason frowns, and rounds the counter, looking at the various scribbles and cross-outs on your whiteboard and open notebook.

“Maybe you should take a break,” He suggests, rubbing your back. “You’ve been going at it now,” Jason pauses to look at the clock. “For roughly seven hours.”

“But my test is in three hours. I’ve gotten figure out how to do these problems because there’s always five of them on the test and if I mess up one, I’m going to mess up two,” Your jaw tightens as you feel the burn of tears building in your eyes.

Oh, hell no. Organic chemistry is NOT going to make me cry. While you care about your studies, it’s not enough to make you cry. You take a deep breath, blinking a few times to force back the tears of frustration.

“Some fresh eyes might help. Just take a few minutes to shut your brain off,” Jason tries to urge you but you brush him off.

“I’m okay, I promise. I’m going to see if I can find some example problems,” You start typing on your laptop again, scrounging old tests.

Jason frowns but leaves you to work.

Two hours later, you get up to go to the bathroom. You stare at the blue walls of your bathroom feeling drained and exhausted. You hate organic chemistry and you hate online classes. Why are you even taking this class?! It’s stupid!

After washing your hands, you glance at the clock on Jason’s nightstand-- one hour until you take your test. Sighing heavily, you walk back out to the kitchen to continue studying, only to find every seat at the kitchen counter and small dining table have been taken by a varying amount of objects including but not limited to: a tall stack of folded laundry, a pile of what you were guessing to be Jason’s shirt rejects, a stack of plates from the cupboard, and Jason’s ammunition bag that he takes on missions.

You stare at the chairs then glance over at Jason only to notice he stacked your textbooks and DVD collection on the loveseat while he is pointedly sprawled across the other couch. He casually reads his book, pretending to not notice you.

“Hey, Jason?” You ask.

He hums in response.

“What is this?”

Jason looks around the room then sets his book down, placing a hand on his cheek in mock surprise.

“Oh, would you look at that? There’s nowhere to sit besides my lap.”

He opens his arms invitingly and you can’t help but laugh.

“Jason--” You start to say, not moving toward him, despite the tempting offer.

“No,” He cuts you off. “You have been studying all day. You need to take a break and you’re going to take it now.”

“My test is in an hour.”

“Honestly, if you don’t know it by now, you’re not going to know it for the test,” Jason tells you bluntly. “You’re going to be fine. Please, just take a break,” He looks at you pleadingly.

You glance back toward your laptop which you notice Jason had shut then sigh and walk over to Jason, letting him pull you down onto the couch with him. You land between his legs with his arms wrapped tightly around you.

“You’re going to do great,” He promises.

You snort.

“It’s organic chemistry, “great” does not exist in its vocabulary.”

“Shut up, it’s going to be great.”

“I got a 66 on the last test,” You remind him.

Jason pauses for a moment.

“You’re going to pass,” He fixes, making you laugh.

“There we go. That’s the realistic prediction I need to hear,” You grin, tucking your chin under his head. “I just want the semester to be over.”

“Yeah, I know doll,” He kisses the top of your head. “But you can’t keep trying to do your classes like this.”

“Yeah, I know,” You sigh, playing with his fingers.

You two stay like that until it’s time for you to log on and take your test. And what do you know? Jason was right, you did pass.

“Told you,” Jason grins, kissing your cheek as he looks over your shoulder at the screen.

“Yeah, yeah,” You roll your eyes, closing your laptop.

“I’m just saying that you should listen to me more,” He points out.

“Oh really?”

“Uh-huh, cause clearly, I’m a genius.”

“A genius you say?” You turn your chair so you’re facing Jason.

“Yep,” He grins, stepping between your legs while your arms go around his neck. “I could put Tim out of business.”

“I’m sure,” You roll your eyes. “You’re very humble about it too.”

“Oh of course,” Jason flips his hair dramatically. “Not only am I a genius, but I’m also smoking hot.”

You start laughing, shaking your head.

“You’re a dork,” You grin, kissing Jason.

“Yeah, but I’m your dork,” He murmurs against your lips.

“Damn right,” You grin.

The quarantine sucks, but at least you have a good company.

I had a test on Tuesday, can y’all tell? (I did pass)

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #Jason Todd x reader #Red Hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanons #quaratine fic #dc #batman #request #organic chemistry sucks #based on true events #aka my struggle #i got the same style question wrong on the test so rip #but i passed!!!!!#can i have a jason who reminds me to eat cause this is what i do when i get stressed??

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