#I somehow forgot to put it in my drafts *sweats*

[medicus-felini]

@goldenshowman continued from here.

More cash would not be the worst. Linn tends to spend more money than planned almost every time she goes out to stack up on supplies. Yes, winning more would certainly please her captain. The doctor would make up for all the times she overdid herself in the past. Tilting her head slightly to the woman cheering her on, persuading her to bet even more, the mink chuckles, not used to this kind of attention.

❝ You promise, yes? ❞ Her head turns to face Tesoro once again, before her eyes drift down to the pile of cash she claimed in the last games. Who knows? Maybe her luck with card games has bloomed, freed from this curse of never winning any game back then when she tried to play with the others of her crew.

❝ Alright. One more won't hurt. ❞ The woman eventually proclaims, back straightening, chest puffed out proudly with newfound confidence. If she really wins some more, hells, Kid wouldn't even need to hunt the title of being King of Pirates anymore. He will be stupidly rich, drowning in money!

[elliesflower]

victory lap [ellie williams]

pairing; f!reader x ellie

cw; rich!ellie, plus-sized female!reader, degradation (kinda), mean!ellie, vouyerism, semi-public masturbation(kinda?), ellie and reader are both perverted ngl

an; syd's comeback??? and it's smut?????? i've had this in my drafts since like may and finally got around to editing it so here you go. and i swear i'm working on chapter 8. and also please don't ask why i didn't pick a sexier sport. like basketball or something. i don't know either. ok bye.

for my sweet babies @coeurify @bambiesfics @addisonnie @seattlesellie

It was yet another blazing hot day at the country club, the sun’s sweltering rays kissing the backs of your legs as you bent down to retrieve a fallen golf ball from the bright green turf, careful not to bend straight over so that your panties would be on full display for anyone who dared to walk behind you. You readjusted the visor on your head upon standing, before you wiped a speck of excess dirt off the white plastic with a perfectly manicured finger before passing it off to Tommy Miller. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said, making sure to grab an unnecessary amount of your hand in his own as he took the ball. He winked at you before readjusting his own visor, and setting up the ball on the tee. After the first time you caddied for Tommy, he started requesting you by name. Of course, you knew it probably had a little something to do with the way you caught him staring at your full breasts that sat perfectly in your pink racerback, neckline so low everyone could watch the way small beads of sweat would dribble down your skin and disappear between your chest. 

The truth is, you didn’t mind that Tommy was a little flirty with you, or even handsy sometimes, for that matter—for two reasons. The main one being, Tommy had money. Like, different car for each day of the week money. And his brother, Joel, somehow had even more, you’d reckoned from the times you’ve gotten to chat with him. They were always talking about what new business venture they’d invested in this week, or what extravagant trips they were taking next week. To the average person, it might sound snobby and pretentious—because well, it was—but around the club, it was normal. But you didn’t mind, because the more money your club members made, the more money they could put in your pocket. And you had bills to pay. 

The second reason being, of course, you knew it wouldn’t get them anywhere. Not when you weren’t really into Tommy’s…type, if you will. 

“Of course, Tommy,” you smiled warmly at him, before stepping back to stand in the shade of the golf cart as you watched him line up his shot. Just as he was all set up, swinging his arms behind him to take the shot, his phone began ringing loudly from his back pocket.  

“Goddamn, piece ‘uh shit!” He exclaimed as the ringer clearly messed up his concentration. You had to hide your smile as he shot you an apologetic look before tucking the club under his arm and pulling out his phone to answer. The club was a little high and tight, with people talking like they’d just stepped off the set of an eighties classic film, but Tommy was a little…different. Coming from Texas, the money he’s made never quite washed away his potty mouth, nor his laid-back attitude.

“What is it Joel? Oh, you’re here?” Tommy glanced at you before dropping his gaze to the ground, rolling the golf ball around with his foot mindlessly. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. No, I’ll have her come pick you two up. Yep. Alright, see ya in a bit.” 

You straightened up against the cart as he approached you, ready to do whatever it was he’d ask. 

“Joel’s here?” You asked, sliding into the cart preemptively. 

“Yeah, that sonuva bitch decided to stop by after all. Him and Ellie are waitin’ at the clubhouse, would you mind swingin’ to pick them up?” 

“Ellie?” You cocked your head slightly, but slid through to the driver’s seat nonetheless. 

“Ah, forgot you haven’t met ‘er yet,” Tommy said, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes trailed down to where your thick thighs spilled out onto the seat, your panties just barely covered by the white pleated golf skirt that rode up when you sat. You immediately averted your gaze, turning the key to the cart and feeling it rumble to life. “Ellie’s Joel’s daughter. I think she’s about your age…she’s great n’ all, honors student in college, yadda yadda…y’all might actually hit it off.”

“We’ll see about that,” you said playfully. If only he knew what he was actually implying to your sapphic brain. He just smirked at you, tapping the hood of the cart twice before walking back to the tee. “See ya in a bit,” he called over his shoulder as you drove away. You weren’t too far from the clubhouse, as Tommy had barely gotten started on his round, so it was a quick little drive over. The warm breeze tickled the baby hairs peeking from beneath your visor, and helped to cool the bare skin of your arms. 

Joel was waiting for you in the cart-turnaround at the back of the clubhouse when you arrived, and gave you a little wave as you turned around the corner. You waved back, putting on your best smile and doe eyes as you pulled up in front of him standing alone with two golf club bags at his sides. He smiled politely when you came to a stop, jumping out quickly to retrieve his bags when he started trying to put them on the cart himself. 

“Joel, you know you don’t have to worry about all that. Not when I’m around, at least.” You smirked at him as you picked up the two bags of heavy clubs with ease, loading them onto the back of the cart.

“C’mon now, I can’t even attempt to be a gentleman?” He joked, tipping his visor at you playfully. You giggled, exaggeratedly. 

“Oh, but of course, Mr. Miller. My apologies.” You pretended to curtsey for him, just barely lifting the hem of your short skirt as to not completely expose yourself—but surely you didn’t miss the completely conspicuous way his eyes traveled down the expanse of your curves, from the way your breasts practically spilled from your tank top, to the small patch of exposed skin at your midriff, all the way down to the way your white skirt flowed as you crossed your legs. I mean, who wouldn’t look, honestly? He huffed out a laugh and you took that as your cue to slide back into the driver’s seat, and Joel leaned a strong arm against the roof of the cart. 

“Tommy mentioned your daughter? Is she—” 

“Ready, Dad?” You could only assume Ellie, his daughter, suddenly appeared behind Joel, effectively shutting you up and quite literally taking your breath away. You at least had the decency to choke quietly, using Joel’s surprise as an excuse to turn your head away, bringing your fist to your mouth for a moment as you cleared your throat and tried to regain your composure. You felt the cart dip to your right, so you turned back, expecting to see Joel sliding in next to you—but no, it just had to be his daughter. His beautiful, angelically-built daughter with a perfect smile and perfect jade eyes and somehow even more perfect hands, which she was using to grip the stability bar at the front of the cart as she slid in next to you. 

You felt stunned, could do nothing but pathetically stare at her with your mouth slightly agape as you heard Joel’s phone ringing distantly, somewhere in the back of your mind, even though you knew he was sat right behind you. A half smile made the corner of Ellie’s lip twitch ever so slightly, but she looked away quickly, leaving you practically lusting at the sight of her side profile. 

“You gonna take us to Tommy? Or just sit there and stare like you ain’t got nothin’ in your brain?” Her voice was like pure sex; rich and modulated, no real Southern accent like her father, but his vernacular had definitely rubbed off. It was really hard to not show that her words were heading straight to your lower half, your thighs pressing together just inconspicuously enough that you’d probably be able to play it off if she really noticed. You had to at least look embarrassed, averting your gaze so that you could turn the small engine over. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Ellie. Tommy speaks very highly of you.” You chose to ignore her little comment, focusing instead on trying to treat Ellie just like every member you’d had the pleasure of serving. 

And oh boy, would it be a pleasure to serve Ellie. 

“M’sure he does,” Ellie all but laughed, leaning back so that her legs spread apart across the seat, her left knee getting dangerously close to your legs. You swallowed thickly, trying to watch the movement of her tattooed arm from your peripheral as she slung it over the back of the seat. You could tell it was a natural response, that she probably man-spreaded like this everywhere—but some sick and perverted part of your mind wanted to believe that she was doing it for you, that she wanted you to see her act so…

“Eyes on the fucking road, sweetheart,” she said, and it was quiet. But the weight of it made you nearly squeak—how long had you been looking over at her?—narrowly avoiding a decently-sized rock that would have gotten easily stuck in the small tires of the golf cart. “This your first day on the job or somethin’?” 

And Ellie was so fucking casual with it. Like she hadn’t even meant to degrade you. You stammered a bit, and you swear you could feel her eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. Tommy appeared suddenly as you reached the small summit of the course hill, and all you could do was huff quietly as you approached, again choosing to ignore the way she taunted you like it was second nature. Luckily, she either didn’t hear or chose to ignore you, but she didn’t say another word as you pulled up near Tommy, just as he was taking a long swing with his driver.

“You see that shit, Joel?” He asked as he squinted out at the ball flying through the air with impressive speed. “Might actually beat ya this time, whatcha think?” 

“Yeah, yeah, you just got a head start, that’s all.” You could hear the smile in Joel’s voice as you quickly jumped out of the cart and ran to grab his clubs for him, and Ellie’s, too. He was finishing up his phone call as he took the bag from you, giving you a small nod before you turned to face Ellie. Now that you were standing practically face to face, you had to stop yourself from looking her up and down. Or you at least had to find a way to be discreet about it…and that was one thing you were, was quick on your feet. 

“These are some nice clubs,” you praised, using it as an excuse to look down at her, playing it off like you were examining them. Her feet were clad in an expensive pair of golfing shoes, her toned calves running into thighs covered in a simple, black, five inch inseam short. You gulped inconspicuously, as your eyes quickly moved past her crotch. Surely, you were hallucinating that…bulge. 

“Aw, so you can be helpful when you wanna be,” Ellie snickered, taking the bag away from you with such quickness that your arm was left hovering in the air. You shook your head slightly as if to shake the thoughts away, and dared to look her in the eyes once more. 

“I sure do try my best,” you said, and it wasn’t meant to be bratty, it really wasn’t—but Ellie’s smirk quickly soured, and she huffed and slung the bag over her shoulder. 

“Get me some water, will you?” She jutted her chin toward the cooler attached to the back of the cart, and you could only nod, instantly following her blunt command like you were a puppet on her string. What was she doing to you?

Ellie wasn’t always an asshole, you see. No, no, society made her this way. Have you ever noticed how rich kids aren’t friends with the poor ones, or vice versa? It’s because they can never find any middle ground, no similarities, no common interests. The kids going to public school were happy with a day trip to the city as a vacation; meanwhile, Ellie was missing weeks of her prissy private school education to fly halfway around the world on a business trip with her dad. 

And now, she was a rich girl going to a pretentious university. But she didn’t like the fact that people saw her this way: an asshole with her nose always pointing up; getting clocked as a rich girl as soon as anyone with eyes looked at the way she was dressed; never knowing if someone liked her for her, instead of just for her money. People were going to look at her and see ‘rich, pretentious asshole’ painted on her forehead no matter what—so why not embrace it? Why not put on this stupid little act that everyone else in her social class seemed to? 

And that’s where the soul-sucking began, Ellie realized. That’s how the bratty, entitled kids from her high school ended up just like their evil, entitled parents. She didn’t want to be this way. It just…happened. 

Nevertheless, Ellie pulled the Nike-swooshed visor off of her head for a moment to run her fingers through her reddish-brown tresses, trying to shake away the heat of the sun. You couldn’t help but to let your eyes linger on the way her tattooed arm flexed as she did so, nearly tripping over your own feet as you brought her a completely unnecessary plastic bottle full of water. 

“You know, they make reusable water bottles, nowadays,” you blurted out, your sarcasm taking over momentarily, the heat nearly making you forget where you were. You were at work. Of course rich people don’t care about using plastic water bottles. Ellie raised a curious brow, perfectly groomed with a small scar parting the arch. She didn’t even have to say anything—she just stood there, giving you that…look, and your eyes widened in surprise. She snatched the water bottle from your hand with such force that you flinched, the plastic crinkling almost louder than the sound of Tommy and Joel’s banter.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” you found yourself saying, eyes immediately falling to the ground. As she took a swig of water, Ellie couldn’t help but to notice this, and file it away in her brain for another time—the way she didn’t even have to say anything to you, and you were already so…

submissive. 

“Don’t call me Miss,” she said simply as she screwed the cap back on. You nodded, folding your hands together in front of you before looking back up to catch her gaze. 

“Yes, Ellie,” and her name came out like a drawl naturally…swear. The syllables rolled off your tongue and straight to your lower half, took you to a place so heavenly—your panties were growing wetter by the second, the press of your plush thighs getting tighter as you watched her expression. Her eyes darkened momentarily (or did she just squint at the sun?), and her posture shifted (maybe she got a cramp?). It was like she was trying to read your mind, and you were pretty sure she practically could as you watched her pretty pink tongue dart out to catch the wetness that remained on her lips—you found yourself salivating at the sight, having to quite literally force your jaw to stay closed. 

She was an asshole, sure—but that doesn’t mean you still don’t want to fuck her. 

“My clubs?” Ellie broke you out of your little fantasy by invading your presence, so close you were suddenly overwhelmed. She had set her clubs down in front of her when she took a drink of water, and it was now suddenly your job to hand them to her. “Do we need to clean out your ears or somethin’? Jesus.” She was shaking her head, feigning disappointment, and you stammered. No, no, you’ve never had an unsatisfied member and you weren’t going to start now. Especially not with Ellie. You felt the urge to please her, go above and beyond and make sure she never had to lift a finger—but she was scoffing and reaching to grab her clubs before you could get out another word. 

“No, no, no Mi-” You caught yourself before you made yet another embarrassing mistake. For the second time. “Ellie. My apologies, I’ll follow you.” It was a bit proper, maybe a bit much…but you had to make it up to her, you had to. Whatever it takes. 

“I want my driver first. You do know which one that is, right?” And she was nasty, voice laced with venom as she called over her shoulder. When did she start walking away? And should your pussy be throbbing over that? You didn’t even respond as you lugged her bag over your shoulder, trailing behind her to catch up to Tommy and Joel. They were still bantering away when you approached, cursing and laughing and hitting each other, like brothers do. 

“Look who finally made it,” Ellie’s eyes rolled when you caught up, so quickly you almost missed it. You were like, fifteen steps behind her, there’s no way that was called for. You stayed silent as you unloaded the clubs off your shoulder, doing your best not to show any hint of negative emotion on your face, propping the bag up before pulling Ellie’s driver out. It was long, and heavy, like all the other expensive ones you’ve seen. All of her clubs looked shiny, you noted, like she had either never used them, or just got them polished. Either of which could be possible, as you’d yet to see her play. She grabbed it from you hastily, and you felt that familiar throb beneath your skirt. Get a fucking grip.

“Gotcha’ all set up here, kiddo,” Joel said enthusiastically, and Ellie didn’t even fake a smile. So, you just watched her take the shot. Boy, did you watch her take the shot. 

Watched the way she got so serious—okay, somehow more serious than before—the way she shuffled her feet behind the tee as she lined up her shot, the way her arms flexed and veins popped as she straightened out her arms, prepping to take the swing. The way she took a split second to glance back while she rotated her body to shoot you the most sickeningly devious wink before sending the ball flying across the course.

Tommy whistled and Joel offered a few strong claps. 

You couldn’t be quite sure that you wouldn’t melt into a puddle right here in the middle of the course. What is it about Ellie, your favorite member’s niece, that was getting you so worked up? For fucks sake, golf isn’t even a sexy sport! It couldn’t have at least been basketball, or something a bit more…normal that did it for you?

Instead, you got Ellie, in all her glory. Strong calves turned away from you as she watched her ball cut through the air, higher and faster and better than you’d ever seen Tommy or Joel hit. Not that they’d ever admit that. 

Your thoughts were getting dirtier by the minute as you watched Ellie play. You felt like a baby deer following her around the course, knees wobbling every time she barked another command at you. 

“Um, my water, please?”

“I said five iron, not six.”

“My ball is dirty. What ‘er you even good for?

You were slipping by the minute, letting your eyes linger over her frame a little longer each time you glanced her way. No way she wasn’t catching on. 

“Take a fucking picture, Princess, it’ll last longer.”

Oops.

And when you pulled back up to the clubhouse, it took everything in you to not just run off. Your heart was beating out of your chest, panties completely ruined with your slick, oh my god you were fucking perverted. You carefully helped Tommy, Joel, and Ellie load up their gear into their respective cars, keeping your mouth shut so as to not squeak out an embarrassing sound. In fact, you couldn’t be quite sure you wouldn’t just moan out loud if Ellie so much as even glanced in your direction unprompted. 

“Great game today, guys.” You smiled sweetly at Joel and Tommy who were now both leaned up against the side of the building, taking refuge from the sun. 

“Well thank ya, sweetheart! Glad you got a chance to meet Ellie today, too,” Joel smiled at you, reaching out to squeeze at your shoulder. “Ellie, why don’t you say thank you to our lovely caddy girl today?” He didn’t use your name, because why would he? You were a convenience to them. Now that you thought about it, Ellie probably didn’t even know your name. Let alone care. 

Her green eyes bore into you for a moment before she grunted out something that sounded suspiciously like a thank you, before tipping her head back to swallow the last of her water. The sight of her throat contracting had you practically running away to do something so devious, you might have to get down on your knees and pray before you went to sleep. 

And Ellie was only human, after all. She was curious, about a lot of things. But more specifically? At this moment? She was wondering where you were scurrying off to. Of course, you weren’t as good about hiding what physical reactions you’d been having to her for the past hour as you thought—the way you’d squirm whenever she caught you staring at her, or how your mouth opened ever so slightly, ever so submissively when she berated you. 

So wherever you were going must be good. 

And oh, was it good. 

Ellie couldn’t believe her eyes, as she trailed behind you. Each time you’d look back, she’d be sure to hide just perfectly out of your view around corners, behind tables….she couldn’t let you know how curious she was, no. Because you see, she was actually good about hiding these sorts of things. She was an asshole, but it wasn’t for no reason. She just couldn’t let you know how the sight of you practically drove her insane—the soft curve of your hips beneath that skirt, the rolls on your belly that led to the plush skin of your breasts that bounced so perfectly with every step you took. That would just ruin the fun of it. My god, were you a sight for Ellie’s sore eyes. 

So now, Ellie watched as you were slipping into a supply closet. Okay…? Perhaps, you had just forgotten something, then. Needed to grab something for another member, or left your bag in there before you started your shift. Nothing interesting. 

But no, Ellie was close enough now that you were safely behind the door, that she could hear the lock ‘click’ softly from inside the supply closet. 

Oh. Oh— she thought. 

And she couldn’t believe her ears, when she heard the faintest sigh. One that couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than relief. 

And yeah, you were relieved. 

You couldn’t take it anymore—the last hour you spent with Ellie was absolute torture. Letting her talk down on you, and treat you like you were nothing to her…it shouldn’t have turned you on. You should be upset, embarrassed, angry, furious even. But you were wet. 

Holy fucking shit, you were wet. Your fingers trailed down your tummy as you leaned against the wall in the dark closet, barely illuminated by a tiny window at the top of one wall. Your breath was shaky, eyes closed as you lifted your short skirt, shoving your panties to the side before you felt the top of your fingers graze past your clit, sliding further and further in between your slick folds, so easily, so so easily. 

“Oh!” you caught yourself gasping as you played with yourself, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth as a sickly, obscene wet sound began to fill the space of the small closet. This was so wrong…touching yourself at work, thinking about Ellie, so fucking desperate that you had to run away and relieve even just an ounce of the tension you felt inside. 

It only got worse when all you could think about was Ellie’s long fingers, the way they gripped the golf clubs so tenderly, and how you wished so badly that you could replace yours with hers as they slipped inside of you. Your head fell back against the metal rack behind you, and you had no right mind to react to what should have been pain. Instead, you pictured Ellie standing in front of you, and how her eyes would darken with lust as she pressed her body against yours, her hot breath fanning across your face as she fucked her fingers up into you…

And Ellie was going crazy, couldn’t help herself from getting closer and closer to that supply closet door. There was no one in this wing of the club, surely no one would walk by and see her with her ear pressed against a supply closet door…right? It mostly didn’t matter, as something deranged and perverted was consuming her brain. She found herself quite literally pressed against the door, she couldn’t help herself, she had to hear the way you moaned softly and gasped while you worked yourself closer and closer to your release. 

“Oh…oh Ellie!” You breathed wantonly, and Ellie could have cum on the spot. The wet sounds of your ministrations were getting faster and louder as your fingers pressed in and out of you with such force the rack behind you was beginning to rattle. Had you been in your right mind, you should have been mortified. You should have stopped right then and there, pulled yourself together and went home to the privacy of your own home and taken a long, cold shower. But all you could see was that stupid fucking smirk on Ellie’s face as she’d whisper: 

Just fucking cum for me, baby. 

And so you did, slapping your free hand over your mouth to muffle what surely would have been far too loud of a noise as you reached your peak, your body trembling almost violently as the high washed over you. 

Ellie was positively reeling, her ear still pressed to the door almost comically as she listened to you come undone. If anyone were to walk by at this moment it would look utterly suspicious, her all alone in the long hallway, surely looking suspect in her current position. Not to mention she should probably pull away before you had a chance to swing the door open, as she would have absolutely no excuse as to what she was doing here. 

Instead, Ellie continued to listen to your labored breaths as you came down, her pink lips parted softly as she felt her own wetness growing more and more unbearable beneath her shorts. Hell, had the purple silicone she had strapped to her hips been real, there would be absolutely no hiding what your sounds had done to her. She should move away, racing thoughts of oh my fucking god, and I wonder how easy it would be to make her sound like that again, but also to go back to Dad and go the fuck home, goddammit, this is absolutely sick, even for you and— 

“Ellie?!” 

She nearly fell forward from the weight of her body on the door when it swung inwards to reveal your absolutely mortified face, and even more terrified voice. Her eyes were like saucers, surely mirroring yours as you gaped at her, one hand still on the door to leave the possibility of slamming it right back in her face in humiliation. No, no no no no no way this was happening to you. 

Ellie’s mouth opened and closed a few times as she staggered backwards in her surprise, leaving you both just staring each other down in what was surely the most awkward encounter either of you had ever had in your entire life. Her eyes quickly shifted downwards and she took another step back. 

“I- I was just- yeah, okay. Bye.” 

And she was gone. 

-- 

pt 2??????

[empress-pug]

SYPNOSIS: “Baking cookies for my love! Baking cookies for your love!” where you’re making cookies for them.

CONTENT WARNINGS: It’s really fluffy

A/N: random ahh selection of characters/ I forgot about this and it was sitting in my drafts for the longest of times

not proofread

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ YOUR THE ONE WHO BAKES COOKIES FOR THEM

Knowing there were many ways you would never be able to repay their display of affection, you decided to do this small yet greatly significant gesture. With the help of your dear friend you spent the next 3 hours making cookies, yes most batches turned out well but they weren’t perfect enough.

The failed cookies were eaten by your friend whom now seemed to only live laugh live cookies from the abundance of batches you guys had made. The few cookies that passed your mighty cookie exam even with your penetrating eye looking for any fault to criticize and remake- were now put into a volume lace bag tied with a beautiful red ribbon. The bag of cookies laid beautifully in the middle of a straw basket with flowers and other trinkets surrounding it.

Although you knew it might not suffice as payment for the countless amount of times they had comforted in your time of need- or tried to comfort you, the amount of times they gave you their love, leaving them in such vulnerable position. Even if the quantity of love that you received was small it held baronial amounts of meaning behind the gesture, or if their love was as grandiose and evidently noticeable (maybe even if it’s in the middle of that scale), you somehow had to give back to them.

So even if the gesture was small, you gave them a cookie! Sorry, I meant an absolutely flawless cookie, perfect smell, an impeccable appearance, splendid texture mixed with your love, sweat, and tears. To most this cookie would rival even rival that if Micheln Star restaurants.

But this was something sent by the gods and received by a mere person like themselves, it was just a spectacular event they’d cherish. Yes the gesture was not grand, but they ate that up.

Gratitude and love if loving you more was even possible had burst like a dam, conquering their rationality and mind. They gave a kiss or two, some even giving more kisses than the average couple give each other in just a mere moment.

Some compliment the cookie, some express their joy through gestures and actions, some verbal and so on. But one thing that I definitely know they did was thank you, the butterflies swarming their belly’s non stop. They probably had heart in their eyes, accompanied with a love-struck smile ehrtet this was evident or not- they definitely loved it.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ DAZAI, fyodor, DION, JEREMY, CALE, AHIN GRACE, NIKOLAI sigma, Giyuu,CHUUYA, PANTALONE, DOTTORE, SCARAMOUCHE, KEVIN KASLANA, KALPAS, GOJO, mobius, Toya, RUI, NENE, Supporting Character Kyle, eren, and yor.

[jayteacups]

Got me thinking of Levi going to get his wisdom teeth removed. Everyone is suuuper excited with phones at the ready because he’s no doubt going to say some weird ass shit. They gotta record him. 📸

Instead he’s super super normal and straight faced. Super tired 😪 It’s only once they put their phones away that he starts mumbling nonsense.

TAY i’m so sorry this has taken so long. I’m FINALLY clearing out my inbox and drafts folder and completely forgot that this has been sitting here for like... months. It’s been finished for ages, I just forgot to queue it up to post 😭😭 pls forgive me

Anyways enjoy these hcs. hope this isn’t too cringe

Levi getting his wisdom teeth removed

Now, he obviously did not want anybody other than you to know he was getting his wisdom teeth removed, clearly because he a) actually gets pretty nervous for any medical procedure, and b) does not want people to record him high on pain meds 

Somehow, though, Hange finds out (because they always find out) 

And they set up camp at your and Levi’s shared apartment to surprise you two when you drive him home from the appointment 

You groan and sigh upon unlocking the door and just hearing many footsteps pattering towards the front door, and you instantly raise your eyebrows at the culprit. Hange just shrugs and says they had to be there

Connie’s struggling to contain his laughter as he and Sasha not-so-discreetly take their phones out and start recording him. You try and whack the phones away but Mikasa, with a straight face, pulls up her hand-held DS camera saying something about this going in the family home-made videos (because the Ackerman family--and by that I mean Kuchel because she’s alive and well in this universe--always makes home-made video compilations of the year), Historia high-fives Mikasa, and you sigh. To his credit Eren looks terrified that he even got roped into this at all, the poor boy is sweating like CRAZY. Jean’s not faring much better to be completely honest. Weirdly enough, Armin looks mildly entertained.

They’re expecting Levi to be super loopy and out of it, but other than feeling a little woozy and needing to put an arm around you so that he can stumble into the house without the risk of tripping, he seems perfectly lucid. More like he has a bad headache than being on pain meds.

Immediately upon seeing the audience, he gives them his trademark glare, swipes for Connie’s phone and successfully snatches it out of the boy’s hand, and gives it to you for safekeeping. He’s cussing them out as normal, telling them to ‘get out of [his] hair and leave him be’ without any actual bite to it, and even though there’s gauze in his mouth and his jaw is swollen he sounds relatively normal. 

Sighing in disappointment everyone puts away their phones, which makes you sigh with relief as everybody skirts around you, letting you help Levi get settled on the sofa, even as he continues to protest that he can sit down and get cozy by his damn self, thank you very much. 

Though they did initially show up in the hopes they’d catch him saying something stupid, the group is willing to help you take care of him (to which he protests that he doesn’t need half a dozen mother hens) so they stick around, make soup, clean up after the mess they made (because Sasha broke into the biscuit tins whilst they were waiting for you and Levi to come home)

All the while, you’re preparing an ice pack for his swollen face and constantly reciting to yourself the exact words the doctors told you about how long the bandages and gauze need to stay on etc. etc., and everybody is now so hyperfocused on making sure he’s comfortable that they almost miss it when Levi slowly shuffles up to you on the couch, swaddled in blankets, and mumbles ‘if i was a coffee order at starbucks, what would i be?’

Everyone who’s in earshot freezes. You stifle a laugh. ‘you don’t even drink coffee let alone like it, why’d you wanna know? besides, i’m sure there’s a buzzfeed quiz for that if you’re really curious.’ 

He’s shaking his head, mumbling something incoherently, and when you ask him to speak up, he says ‘I don’t trust buzzfeed’. 

‘Why not?’

It goes onto a very strange tangent about a conspiracy theory that buzzfeed is one huge social experiment by some shady private corporation that keeps their identity a secret, then he talks a bunch about how he can hear the voices of all the flies and bugs he’s squished over his lifetime. 

you usher everybody out before they can begin recording or witness him tearing up over all the bugs he’s killed, but then he turns around and says ‘but if I were a coffee i’d be black coffee. black like my soul’

This is the breaking point for you and you cackle. ‘sure,’ you’re getting out inbetween wheezes, ‘sure you are’. He’s immediately falling asleep afterwards leaving you to just sit there on the couch giggling. 

You tell Levi everything he says when he’s lucid again and he vehemently denies everything. especially the part where he felt sorry about all the creepy crawlies he’d killed. 

Levi x Reader Masterlist | AOT Masterlist

[hockeyshitandstuff]

Are you in town? - Matthew Tkachuk (part 1)

part two here

part three here

word count: 1860 words

TW: language, angst (?)

let me know if you want part two, I’m somehow still not sure

...

It was so hot that day. The movers were already gone, the place feeling empty without all the furniture. In a few hours, you'd be long gone, flying far away from Chesterfield.

Some small part of you felt sorry for selling your parents' house - the house you spent your whole childhood living in. But they moved out a few years ago and told you many times they didn't mind at all selling it.

Wiping the sweat off of your eyebrows you made your way through the blooming garden, trying to memorize every little detail. You remembered climbing this tree, you remembered the hole in the fence you made so the neighbour's dog could come play with you, you remembered the time capsule you and Matt buried here when you were fifteen.

Until now, you completely forgot about that. Even though you two didn't talk after he got drafted, it'd be a good idea to meet again since you might never see him again. You might be moving to Calgary but that city was so big it'd be a miracle to meet Matthew somewhere.

So you scrolled through your phone, praying he didn't change his number after all those years as you dialed it.

The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.

"Yes?"

Matthew's voice was so different since the last time you talked.

"Hey Matt, this is Y/N, I'm moving out today and I thought we could dig up the time capsule we buried at my place as kids before I leave. Are you in town?" It was off-season so you might get lucky.

"You are moving out already? But yeah, I can meet you in an hour if you have the time."

"Yes, I'll still be here, don't worry."

"Okay..." There was a moment of awkward silence, neither of you knew how to break it. Was it a bad idea? Of course you wouldn't be as good friends as you once were. But you didn't know it would be this... weird. He didn't say goodbye back when he left to Calgary and didn't answer to any of your calls or messages. What were you thinking? That he wanted to see you?

"So, where are you moving to?" Matt finally continued, making the conversation more bareable.

"Calgary, they offered me an amazing job there."

"Really? I've been there for a few years."

"I heard." Not from you, was what you didn't say. It seemed like he'd heard it nonetheless.

Silence. You hated how distant you've grown - once, a long time ago, you were best friends. You went together to kindergarden and since then you've been the best of best friends. But even after all you went through, you didn't know what to say.

"Nevermind, I have to get going. I'll be at your place at three, okay?"

"Okay. I'll meet you there."

As you hung up, sadness enveloped you. Maybe you shouldn't have called. Maybe it'd be better to never meet Matt again, to remember only the good old times.

But he might be already on his way and you wanted to say a proper goodbye before going far, far away.

You loved him once, you recalled. It broke your heart when he left without looking back.

It irritated you that you couldn't do the same as easily.

...

"Y/N?" a now familiar voice called, the sound of closing car doors echoing through the silent street.

Matt looked same as he did four years ago and still totally different. It was like staring at a stranger you could swear you've already seen before. The curly, those pretty grey-blue eyes and the crooked smile you remembered and thought about too often. He got taller and more mascular over the time he played hockey professionally.

"Hey," you said nervously, tucking your slightly trembling hands into the pockets of your shorts.

Again, that uncomfortable silence took place.

"How long is it?" Since you've last seen each other. Since he'd ignored your calls and messages. Since he'd left you crying as he left this town - as he left you.

"Five years," you said.

Regret flashed in those pretty eyes as he took you in. Did you look to him the same as you did the last time he saw you?

"I'm sorry I didn't call." That was it? After five fucking years of silence, this was his apology for everything. This was a mistake. You didn't think it through when you called him today. Just now you started remembering all the things he's done to you.

"That doesn't make it hurt less, does it?" You whipped around, going to the line of fruit trees where you left the two shovels you borrowed from the neighbour.

Matt's hand slightly gripped your elbow, stopping you in your tracks.

"I know that I made a bunch of wrong decisions before I left."

"I've been trying for 6 months to reach you before giving up completely. And you? You've been living the best version of your life anyone could ever imagine."

"That's not true and you know it." Matthew said and you wanted to leave right then, forget this stupid meeting.

"I do not." you hissed, trying to calm down your rising temper.

Matt sighed, not wanting to argue over this. So he made his way to the tree line, picked one shovel from the ground and started digging where he remembered the time capsule was.

You didn't help him dig it up. You were too lost in memories, clinging to the past as you thought of younger version of Matt.

The clang of metal on metal attracted your attention back to him. He grunted as he pulled up the metal box and laid it on the grass.

You ducked low next to him, dusting off the dirt of the box. It was an old, weirdly dented thing.  Your eyes laid on the lock and you nearly sighed in annoyance just when Matt grabbed at his necklace, the key dangling from it. When you two buried the capsule, each of you got a key made for it. You had yours somewhere in the boxes that had already been shipped to your new apartment and Matt's... he didn't forget. He kept it through the years, guarding it and not losing it as you expected.

You didn't say anything, just patiently waited for him to open the box.

There was a letter inside, along with a bunch of things you thought of as long forgotten. Your bracelets of friendship, the colors faded already; a puck with which you and Matthew played your first hockey game together when you were six; so many polaroid photos with your faces on them; USB with a playlist you two always danced to.

Your eyes watered - how were you supposed to say goodbye to all of this?

Silently, you looked over all of the photos - you and Matt in the rink with small hockey sticks and skates, you and Matt sticking out your tongues colored blue with slushies, you and Matt, you and Matt, you and Matt...

Then Matthew's hand found yours, your fingers automatically intertwining with his. You started crying, first silently but then the sobs shook with your whole body.

"Come here," he murmured, hugging you. His body was so soft and warm, as if begging you to lean into his touch.

"How- how could you leave this all behind?" you mumbled between the sobs.

"It's not leaving if you don't say goodbye." Matt said, his fingers playing with yours.

"Then you are a fucking coward, Matthew."

Silence. He didn't argue with you on that, so you must have been right.

You stopped crying after a while, checking your watch while wiping your nose.

Shit. It was so late already - you had to call an uber to get you to the airport in the next hour or you'd be super late.

"I'll have to go," you said quietly, but Matt interrupted you.

"You are right," he tucked on the edge of his shirt, clearly nervous. He was nervous. "I was a coward. I thought that if I didn't say goodbye to you as I left, it'd hurt less. I was wrong and I was a fucking coward for not picking up your calls or replying to your messages because it would make it so real - that I was leaving and probably never coming back. But I want to make it all right again, I want to be a part of your life - if you will let me."

You thought about his offer and still, you couldn't answer. You weren't sure about letting him into your heart just for him to storm out again without a goodbye, leaving you behind, broken.

"Can I at least take you to the airport?" To that, you nodded, picking up the time capsule, putting all the items back in. Then you gave back the lent shovels to your neighbour and with a last glance at your house, you got into Matt's car.

...

On the way to the airport Matt played the playlist from the USB that was in the time capsule and the nostalgy hit you hard.

You remembered the lyrics, the melody; you remembered everything.

The drive was too short and you started panicking as the engine stopped.

Matthew helped you with your suitcase and went inside with you. The two of you stopped at the first gate.

"Here," he said, giving you a piece of paper. "It's my adress. Hopefully, you won't live so far away, so we could meet there if you wanted to."

You tucked it in your pocket without a word.

"Also, take this. I wrote it in ninth grade so don't think much of it. But I want you to read it, Y/N."

It was the letter from the time capsule, with your name on the blank envelope.

"I will." you promised.

The silence that followed wasn't awkward this time.

"I'll let you know my decision about what you said earlier. I just... I need some time."

Matt noded, giving you the space you so desperately needed.

"So, until we meet again - goodbye, Y/N."

"Goodbye, Matt."

...

The plane took off and you finally had the time to read the letter he gave you.

You immediately recognised his scrambled handwriting and you smiled at how messy it was before you started reading.

Dear Y/N,

I'm writing this in case I leave. Dad has been telling me for some time already that if I'll get drafted, I'll have to leave. He also said that if I'll be smart, I will never look back at my past.

I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future.

He said I'll meet a lot of girls but I know that none of them is going to be like you.

So, I promise you, I will never say goodbye to you.

I love you,

Matt

With trembling fingers, you pulled out your phone, the tears already staining the screen.

That's why he never said goodbye. Because of this stupid letter and his stupid promise.

The phone rang once before he picked it up.

"Y/N? What is it?"

A ragged breath escaped you and you laughed and cried at the same time.

"I don't want you to be my past. I want you to be my present and my future."

"Oh, that was cheesy, wasn't it-"

"No, you dumbass. That's my answer."

[seiyasabi]

The Scientist

(Hange (Hanji) can rearrange by guts tbh :P Lol, anyways, this is a Yandere Hanji x Female Reader story! It takes place in current time tho (same universe as Yelena). Also, idgaf how tall the creator says Hanji is. In this fic, even the tall girlies get to be shorter than Hanji. 

TW: kidnapping!, !drugging!, unwanted advances, stalking!, etc! 

Please proceed with caution! Also, I’m sorry if you can tell that this was in my drafts for a hot min. I started to write this when I first started this blog, and I just finished/revised it lol. ) 

“Hey, (Nickname!” Hearing the loud shout of a certain brunet, you jump about a foot in the air. As usual, Hanji decides to surprise you whilst you’re in the middle of something. 

Pulling away from the microscope you’re currently looking at, you put on a strained smile, “Yes?” 

Their one eye sparkles in a hopeful fashion from behind their glasses, one of her their fiddling with their eyepatch, “Sooo,” They draw out the o, seemingly trying to disarm you, “Are you free this weekend? There’s this suuuuper cool bar that’s just opening, and me and the others are thinking about going! It’s totally not a date or anything,” They pause to let out a loud laugh, “I think it’ll be fun! What D'ya say?” 

Forcing out a chuckle, you shake your head, “Ah, I’m sorry, Hanji, but I’m busy this weekend. I have a lot of samples I need to process for that upcoming court case,” You chew your bottom lip nervously, “I’m sorry. I hope you and the others have a good time, though!” 

A new voice is heard, butting into your conversation, “I can do those! I’ve been needing more hours, anyways,” Whipping your head in the direction of the voice, you silently curse. Fuck Armin for being so helpful! 

Hanji beams even brighter than before, clapping their hands together happily, “See! Armin can do that for you!” They lean in closer to you, their lab coat brushing against yours, “Come on, (Nickname), I’d be reaaaaally happy if you go!” 

An uneasy feeling pools in your gut, as an anxious sweat begins to bead at your brow, “I-uhm-I suppose I can go for an hour or two.”

“Great!” They grab your hands in theirs, squeezing them in a friendly manner, “The bar is called ‘Titan’s Wrath,’ and we’re meeting at eight on Saturday!” Releasing you, they pat you on the back, “See you later!” They run off, most likely back to the dry lab. 

After a moment of silence, you slowly turn towards the short haired blond man, “Armin, I’m going to kill you.”

He blanches at your blunt tone, flushing a bright red, “Wha-what?” 

You grit your teeth, tears starting to bead your eyes in frustration, “They’re the person I was telling you about! Hanji constantly harasses me, and you practically just tossed me into their arms! Why would you do that?” 

A look of pure terror and remorse appears of his face, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t realise that they were the person-oh my God, I’m so stupid. I-I really didn’t know! I’m so, so sorry!” You let out a quivering breath, hands clenched into fists to calm you down. 

“It-it’s alright. I never really told you who they were. Just never do that again, okay? If you need more hours, just tell me, and I’ll see what I can do,” The younger man sighs in relief, shoulders deflating. 

“I promise to never do that again!” You nod, blinking away your unshed tears, and smile at him. 

“Okay, then we don’t have any problems,” You laugh lightly, shaking your head, “Who would’ve thought our newest intern was the dry lab’s wing man?” He panics again, making you cackle good-naturedly, “Now, can you please grab the dilluter? I forgot to grab it from the fridge.”

-

Hanji, being the ever cheerful person that they are, set their sights on you the moment you were hired. 

But, if they came out with their feelings immediately, you’d just assume that they wanted to take advantage of you. 

So, they watched you. Writing down your likes and dislikes, your quirks, everything. Through their ‘research,’ they came to realise that you’re very good at your job. The wet-lab should be lucky that they have you… but they never give you the recognition you deserve! 

They bombard you with assignments, become upset when you don’t finish them in seconds (which is so unreasonable!), and hardly give you any time off! 

You don’t seem to mind, being the good girl you are, but Hanji sure does! 

So, they’d seek out the top graduates from the college nearby, and help them become employed at the lab. The newbies really helped get the load off of your shoulders, and once done, they decided to swoop in now that you had a decent amount of free time. 

It started at the vending machine- they’d asked you if you wanted to get coffee with them sometime. You said no, probably because you felt it wasn’t professional. After all, rumours would spread like wildfire if you went out with the lead lab tech of the dry lab! 

So, everytime they knew you had a weekend off, they’d approach you with new places to try. 

Be it a movie, a store, a concert- it didn’t matter. They just desperately wanted to have some time with you! 

But, you reacted the complete opposite of how you were supposed to. 

You’d pick up as many shifts as possible, most times going into over time, just to avoid the flamboyant lead. Whenever you saw them in the hall or by the break room, you’d turn in the complete opposite direction. If wet-lab needed to correspond with the dry-lab, you’d send your most qualified coworker to do so. 

It was saddening, to be honest. They love you so much, yet you refuse to even face them. 

But, thanks to that Armin kid, their plans can finally bloom into fruition. For once, you can’t escape the brunet’s advances! 

Because of that, Hanji made a note to the owner of the lab that Armin would make a good contribution to the lab after he gets all of his qualifications. 

-

Saturday night comes far too soon. 

Dressed in black skinny jeans and a cropped, white long sleeve, you stand in front of ‘Titans Wrath.’ Scoffing at how the bar sounds like a metal band, you make your way inside. 

Grabbing the door handle, you yank it open, immediately hearing loud rock music. Mentally patting yourself on the back for your observation, you step inside of the cool building. 

Looking inside, you see a large, double sided bar in the middle of the room, a stage and standing area just behind it. There are a few pool tables in the front area where you’re standing, along with double doors leading to a hidden kitchen. 

There’s also a lot of people inside. You can’t see Hanji or their friends, but seeing a band setting up on the stage tells you that they’re probably on the other side of the bar. 

Walking over to the steps leading down into the stage area, you try to ignore the leers of a few men around you. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn clothes that accentuate your beautiful figure. Peering around the corner, you see the scientist and their friends, an empty seat in between them and a large blond man, that you vaguely recall being the police chief of your city. 

Strolling towards them halfheartedly, you give yourself a small peptalk inside of your mind. Sure, Hanji has always been touchy-feely with you, sure, they’ve asked you out about one hundred times, sure, you run into them every time you leave the house, sure- 

“(Nickname)! You actually came!” The brunet’s voice is loud, loud enough to cut through the loud music and equally loud chatter. Forcing a smile onto your face, you give a small wave, suddenly uncomfortable with the line of strangers at the bar suddenly looking at you. 

“Yes, hello, Hanji,” When you’re close enough, you’re thrown into a tight embrace, their body practically molding into your own. They’re about a head taller than you, making it so your head is practically forced against their protruding collarbones. Hesitating slightly, you give them a soft pat on the back, trying to escape their suffocating embrace. 

“I’m so glad you came!” They release you just as suddenly as they grabbed you, putting a hand on the small of your back, and practically forcing you in between the blond man and themself, “(Nickname), this is Erwin. Erwin, this is (First Name).”

His blue eyes rake over your appearance, recognition appearing on his face, “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. (Last Name), especially under better circumstances.” 

You nod, thinking back on some high profile cases you met with him for, “Yes, it’s nice to see you again, Mr. Smith.” 

A loud scoff is heard from beside Erwin, the head of a short, dark haired man peeks around the broad chested man, “It’s about time you brought a respectful brat,” You have to stop yourself from flinching at his harsh tone, “I am Levi,” Opening your mouth to introduce yourself, he holds up a hand, halting you, “There’s no need for introductions, Shitty-glasses has gushed about the ‘pretty wet-lab scientist’ for months now.” 

“Oh, alright. It’s nice to meet you,” His lifts his whiskey on rocks in acknowledgement, before downing it with one swig. 

“Likewise,” After that, he turns towards a light brown haired woman, her high pitched voice is heard from where you’re sitting. 

“I’m sorry about that. The detective is very… unsociable.” 

“It’s alright, Mr. Smith. He kind of reminds me of one of my interns, Annie,” You say with a small smile, before your swiveling bar stool is forced around so you’re facing Hanji. 

“Sooo, you like the bar so far?” Their smile is somewhat pleading, and you can’t help but just go along with them. 

“Yes, this place is, um, cool. Very interesting choice,” They clasp their hands together with a pleased expression, as they somehow move closer to you than they already are. At this point, you’re worried that they’ll fall off their stool. 

“Right? Our residential emo boy found it, and we’ve been hooked ever since,” A loud ‘Shut up, Shitty-glasses,’ is heard from behind you, making the brunet laugh, “Let me order you a drink! I think there’s something that you’ll really like!” 

Opening your mouth to reject, it was seemingly too late, because the brunet has already waved over a punk-ed out bartender. You didn’t really hear what the drink is called, but the man sets to work immediately. 

It barely takes a minute for it to be finished, and the purple drink is suddenly in front of your motionless form. Looking up, the purple haired man winks at you, before turning his attention back to a speaking Hanji. 

“Anything she orders, put it on my tab,” He nods, before walking off to service another customer. 

Turning your attention back to Hanji, you try to persuade them to let you pay, “Thanks, Hanji, but it’s alright. I can pay for my own drinks-”

“Don’t worry about it; I asked you out, remember? And it’s the least I can do for harassing you for the past few months,” Startled by their uncharacteristically somber words, you nod in understanding. 

“Alright. Thank you,” They nod, before motioning towards your drink. 

“Try it! I’m sure you’ll like it!” Grabbing the cool glass cup, you bring it up to your lips, and take a small sip. It’s amazing. It tastes like (favourite flavour), and it goes down smooth. 

“You’re right, this is delicious!” They grin brightly, clapping their hands together in glee. 

“Great!” They motion towards the stage with their head, “The show’s about to start! Are you ready for a kickass night?” You laugh at their vigour, and nod. 

“You bet!” 

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all. 

-

You spoke too soon. 

It seems like you’ve drank too much, because you’re now feeling dizzy. Throughout the set, you’d ordered about five more drinks, and they seemingly hit you all at once. 

Hanji, who’s been watching you since your fourth drink, feigns shock at your unstable form. That Rohypnol they grabbed from work works quite well! Now they can see why it’s the choice drug for those awful, awful people. 

“Whoa there, (Nickname), it seems you’ve had too much to drink!” Hanji jokes, hands holding you steady on your bar stool. The only person from your group still at the bar is Erwin, but he knows they have it under control. As chief of police, he feels a bit of remorse, but he knows it's for the best. Hanji will take care of you, because, after all, you’re their only true obsession. 

“Wha-huh? Was’ happenin?” Hanji can all but coo at how cute you are. 

“Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll get you home safe,” Helping you to your boot clad feet, they send a knowing look to Erwin, who smiles in return. Wrapping an arm around your waist, they help you stumble out of the bar, and walk towards their car. Once at the passenger side, the brunet unlocks the door, and assists you inside. You flop onto their leather interior, eyes unfocused, and body movements random. Chuckling to themself, they buckle you in, not before pulling on gloves, and taking your phone, keys, and wallet off of you. 

Taking these items, they empty your wallet of its cash, and chuck everything into a nearby bush. Knowing that the cameras outside the building and the buildings surrounding the place are off, they feel at ease. If anything, they feel like your knight in shining armour. If they hadn’t taken you, someone else would’ve-you’re just too cute. 

Closing your door, and rounding the car, they slide into the driver’s side, before starting the car. Buckling themself in, they look at your out-of-it form, and smile. 

[spencer-reid-in-a-pool]

Guest Speaker Part 2

Author's Note: I received two anonymous requests for a smutty part 2 for Guest Speaker, so here it is!

Part 1

Tags: @that-aesthetic-wannabe​

Contains penetrative sex, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, mention of pregnancy, sex while in cheerleader uniform, orgasm denial(?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a couple of months since that fateful football game. Spencer and I really hit it off and were now officially dating.

He came to all my performances now. Sometimes he would bring some of his co-workers along, but my favorite days were the days he came by himself. I love them of course, but can you blame a girl for being possessive of perfection?

I stayed over at his apartment a lot now. And of course, Naomi never lets me hear the end of that one.

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

Present time:

"So you're telling me that you stay over at his apartment, sleep in the same bed, and you HAVEN'T had a piece of that yet? Girl! Get to it!"

"Naomi," I hissed at her over my lunch, "Either get a man or get a dildo because you are way too into my sex life."

Her eyes widened and she laughed breathlessly.

"Woah, feisty. Alright, I'll leave you alone. But come on, you've had to have wondered what it's like..."

She wasn't wrong. I had been thinking about it and wondering how it would feel- how he would feel. But for now, I just needed to worry about cheer practice.

"Come on, let's get to practice, Naomi."

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

Practice went by smoothly. No injuries, no drama, just practice. It was nearing the end of the season and a lot of the seniors, including me, just wanted to make the most of these last couple of weeks.

I cought the bus to Spencer's apartment like I normally did. He gave me a spare key, so I just let myself in most days. Surprisingly, he was already home.

"Spencer?" I called as I pushed the door open.

I smelled coffee brewing from the kitchen. Leave it to him to make coffee at this hour.

"In here!" He called back to me.

I dropped my bag by the door and kicked my shoes off, relishing in the feeling of not having my aching feet confined.

I made my way into the kitchen and saw Spencer sipping at his coffee.

"It's like, dinner time Spencer. Most people don't drink coffee right now," I laughed out.

Spencer looked at me in genuine confusion and said, "What boring lives they must live."

I couldn't help but smile as I shook my head.

"You're a dork."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

He took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply. He was the best kisser; I could never get enough.

"Are you okay? It seems like something is bothering you," he said quietly while looking me in the eyes.

I bit my lip. Could he tell what I was thinking? Could he tell that the way he kisses me puts my stomach in knots and makes my core throb like no tomorrow?

"I- no, nothing is bothering me, exactly. I've just been thinking- and Naomi was being stupid today."

Spencer looked at me, expecting me to say more. When I didn't speak, he looked down at me and smiled softly.

"Have I ever told you that you look beautiful in your uniform?"

I smiled up at him, and laid my head against chest. My heart was pounding and so was the bundle of nerves between my legs. I had never wanted anyone this bad. I had to say something. I had to.

"Ever wondered what I look like with it off?"

Spencer tensed up for a split second. Then he pulled back and looked at me with an expression I had never seen on him before.

I thought he would speak. I thought I had caught him off guard and he would stutter out some kind of ramble like he usually does. But no. This wasn't one of those times.

"All the time," he growled in my ear, "But I think I'd prefer fucking you with it on."

I felt the color drain from my face. I halfway expected my knees to start buckling and knocking together too.

"What-what did you say?"

"You heard me. You know exactly what I said. And unless I'm mistaken, I think what's been bothering you can easily be fixed. You're easy to read, (Y/N). Now, should I bend you over this counter right here, or should I take you to my bedroom and make your toes curl against the sheets?"

I had never been so taken aback in my life. Who was this? This couldn't be Spencer, my Spencer.

But at the same time, I trembled with lust at his words. So he had been thinking about me too.

"Bedroom."

Without a word, Spencer lifted me off my feet and carried me into his bedroom. He set me down on his bed and stooped down to meet my eyes. His expression was normal now, his eyes gentle again.

"We don't have to do this. I- I just look at you in that uniform and can't help myself. I've been waiting for this forever, it seems. So if you want me to stop, just tell me."

I smiled up at him.

"And I've been waiting for you to fuck me senseless, Dr."

Any sign of gentleness on his face was now gone, as if it had never been there at all.

"In that case- panties off. Now."

I swallowed the nervous lump in my throat and quickly did as I was told. I wasn't sure where this dominant side of Spencer was coming from, but it was exhilarating.

He watched me as I slid my already wet panties off.

"Lay down," he told me, surprisingly gently.

I did so and he leaned over me, kissing me hard while holding my face in his hands.

"All those people back in school would be getting a huge kick out of this, huh? Somehow I managed to snag the most beautiful, sexy, and intelligent cheerleader in the entire world. And I'm about to make her scream," he said quietly with a smirk.

Confidence bubbled up in my chest as I saw the way he looked at me. I could tell he wanted me and loved me. Only me.

And if he wants to play a game, then I'll play.

"Why don't you prove it? Read enough books to teach you how to eat pussy correctly, genius?"

I swear his eyes darkened while he looked at me. I could feel the desire radiating off of him.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

I grinned mischievously at him as his head lowered in between my legs. I couldn't deny I was nervous, but seeing him down there was just too good.

He started out gently, trailing his tongue along my folds while his hands gripped my thighs. When he felt my hips start to move, he got a little more aggressive, lapping at my clit like a starving animal.

The noises that came from my throat were almost embarrassing. I hoped to God that his neighbors weren't home.

"S-Spencer," I whined.

I felt his smirk as he continued his assault on my core.

"Where did this all come from?"

Spencer raised his head to look at me, a draft between my legs now where he once was. His chin glistened in the dimly lit room. Knowing that was me all over his mouth made my stomach flutter.

"No talking," Spencer commanded.

I had to restrain myself from saying "Yes sir!" Although he probably would've liked it.

Before I could think about what was going on, he dipped a finger into me.

"Spencer Reid-"

I liked the way his name felt in my mouth when I moaned. Almost as much as I liked his fingers knuckle deep inside of me.

He pushed another finger in and stroked my sweet spot. How did he find it so fast?

My muscles tightened and I grabbed at the sheets with my sweaty, shaking hands. I panted in time with his fingers moving inside me. With his other hand he rubbed my clit aggressively, seeing how close I was to becoming undone all over him.

But as soon as I felt my climax closing in, he withdrew his fingers and smirked down at me.

"What the hell?" I almost yelled at him.

His smirk only grew as he sucked his fingers off.

"Not yet. I wanna feel you cum on my dick, pretty thing."

I threw my head back and bit my lip, trying to keep from screaming.

"That's my girl. You stay just like that."

I stayed where I was even as I heard him undress. I had never wanted to look at him so bad in all the time we'd been together.

"Spencer, please," I whimpered.

"Look up."

I raised my head slowly, my muscles shaking. He was naked from the waist down and he was lining himself up painfully slow.

"Oops, I almost forgot," he said quietly. He then reached over to his nightstand and pulled a condom out of one of the drawers. "Don't wanna get you pregnant... just yet."

I stifled another moan at his words. He was going to be the death of me.

"Just fuck me already, Spencer."

He looked me in the eyes with an amused expression as he finished putting the condom on.

"I'm coming," he murmured.

Spencer leaned over and kissed me sweetly. I felt him enter me and I opened my mouth against his in shock. He took the opportunity to slip his tongue in my mouth, which I definitely wasn't mad about.

Our tongues danced against each other as he pounded into me. Each time he would slip out, he simply rammed his dick back inside me.

I grabbed at his shoulders and his hair, anywhere I could get ahold of. His mouth left mine and relocated to my neck. Soft grunts escaped his lips as he nibbled my skin, sending vibrations into my neck.

I felt myself falling apart around him and I knew he did too.

"Cum for me," he grunted out in my ear.

His words and his noises, coupled with the sound of his slick skin against mine made me unravel completely. I tightened around him and came forcefully, my thighs even more slick than before.

I hadn't realized I moaned throughout my orgasm until the room got quiet. I opened my eyes and saw Spencer completely lost in thought. His eyes were closed and his hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.

I held onto his shoulders weakly and grinned, trying to catch my breath.

"Your turn, Dr."

His eyes shot open and he looked down at me, as if he forgot I was there. The thrusts were becoming more and more sloppy and I felt his arms begin to shake as he continued to hold himself up.

"The things you do to me, (Y/N)," were his only words before he collapsed on top of me, the condom now filled to the brim with liquid.

We laid in silence, except for the sound of our mingled panting. A stupid grin spread across my face and my eyes fluttered shut in contentment.

Spencer removed himself and threw away the soiled condom. He grabbed a new pair of pajama pants for himself and handed me a change of clothes after placing a sloppy kiss on my lips.

"We should do that again sometime," he said as he laid down.

I smiled and finished changing into the clothes Spencer had grabbed for me. My legs shook as I walked back over to the bed. I fell next to him with a huff.

"Maybe next time you can undress me."

Spencer blushed slightly.

"I'm not apologizing. The way you look in the uniform just gets to me," he laughed breathlessly.

I laughed with him and cuddled into his side.

"I love you, Spencer."

"And I love you, pretty thing."

[okaywitheverything]

hi! can i request minato fall for naruto kindergarten teacher please? thank you 😁

Ma'am: A Possible New Mom? Minato x KindergartenTeacher!Reader

My actual first request! Hope I did it justice! Thank you honey for the request. I wrote some sort of mixed AU so I hope you don't mind.

 A/N: This took a lot of time because I have a lot of tests every month. Also i threw up a week ago and was somewhat sick. Then I lost the two drafts and was so irritated with ms word but somehow I managed to write again. So a lot of blood, sweat and tears went into this. Please shower it with love if you even read this awful Author’s note.

Positive A/N: I did like how it turned out tho, the ending is too cute and you won't know what to expect as I didn't either. I genuinely hope you have fun reading this piece.

Word count: 3K

 Your POV

 “It must be fun to play with the kids all day."

People who think that are the biggest fools on the planet in the universe.

You were picking up the various toys scattered throughout the main classroom, sorting them category wise while the kids took a nap. Most of them anyways.

A few babies had insane amount of energies that they refused to sleep whatsoever. But it wasn't as big a problem as people think it is. All kids have different strengths, a variety of ways to function and unique physiology. You knew if a kid was not tired, forcing him or her to doze off isn't healthy.

Just let the kids be.

So that explains why Naruto was alongside you helping you to collect the sponge shurikens scattered around while you put away the stuffed ninkens on the high shelf. Usually Kiba and Rock Lee would be awake as well, and this trio would play in the hall until their limbs gave out but today even they slept after tiring poor Akamaru out for weird challenges.

“Ma’am, I almost forgot! I want to show you something! Come with me!” Naruto suddenly grabbed your hand leaving his task in the midst and urging you to leave yours too. You looked at him puzzled but giggled at his enthusiasm nonetheless, sometimes kids were too darn cute. You loved the ways kids’ eyes lit up, so optimistic and happy and hopeful until the world snatched it all away. You wanted to preserve this for as long as could.

He took you to the room where the kids kept their small backpacks filled with their favourite articles that they thought were absolutely necessary to take everywhere.

No Neji, you don’t need to have three combs for the care of your luscious hair every possible instant.

Naruto generally brought a lot of snacks which you had to retain sometimes so that he would eat healthy but it became even harder to do so when all he wanted was for Sasuke to taste the tomatoey flavour ‘these’ chips had and gift Rock Lee the curry flavour. That boy had a heart of gold.

 He pulled the zipper of his orange backpack open, and took out a stuffed fox.

“Ma’am meet Kurama! I told him all about you and he wanted to meet you!” He held Kurama up while you were gently petting the plushie’s head, he was so excited to see your happiness to meet his esteemed companion.

These kids and their imaginations! You loved every ounce of it!

“Hello Mr. Kurama!” You didn’t feign excitement, you actually were. You loved kids and their creativity and wouldn’t trade it for anything.

“He’s my best friend! Don’t tell anyone else though! Others might get sad.”

You did an action of zipping your lips, “Your secret is safe with me, sweetie.”

“Look! I also drew something!” He hastily handed you Kurama and proceeded to take out his yellow sketchbook. He kept turning pages filled with rainbows of colours morphing into one another that made some sense in his cute, little head and finally reached his desired page. He pulled your dress with his little chubby hands, an action he often did when he wanted you to sit beside him. You kneeled down, his plushie settled in your lap now as you waited for him to go ahead.

He handed you his open sketchbook where there were three figures, two adults and one kid judging by the height, all wearing triangular outfits. One kid and an adult had striking yellow hair and blue eyes while the other adult wore an orange dress with a large circle in their hands. On closer inspection, you saw your own hair colour and eye colour being illustrated to the best of the toddler’s ability, as far as the crayons allowed him to portray it. You had a circle in your hands, almost the size of your drawn head with black spots in between while the child in the photo held an orange squishy ball. To save you from your confusion, Naruto came to the rescue and started explaining.

“That’s me and Dada over here. And I’m playing with Kurama! And that’s you Ma’am! Bringing me and dada cookies for being good boys like you do in class!”

Your heart melted right there and then. For some reason, your face heated up too.

“Oh my God, honey, that’s amazing!” You pecked his cheek as Naruto blushed slightly and rubbed his head, “You liked it?”

“I Loved it! What did Dada say about it?”

“He got so red like Sasuke’s tomatoes haha. But he put it on our fridge like my other drawings and he said it was the best one yet.”

Before you could reply, crying was heard from the nap room and you sighed. Looks like someone woke up.

“Yay, someone is up! We can now play!” Naruto began running but you stopped him.

“Let’s be sure to pack this all up before, Ma’am Anko will see to your friend okay?”

Minato was waiting alongside other parents, it was 10 minutes till the kindergarten was over. His mind wandered afar, thinking about his journey to this town.

Minato was very afraid when he moved to Konoha, about Naruto settling in and making friends. Of course, back in his previous town he had already got Naruto a place in the best Kindergarten there, pulling all the needed strings but his promotion caught him off guard. Being a single parent was hard enough as it is, and with the worry of adjusting to new surroundings for his growing son, he was almost going to decline the offer. Only after much conviction from his friends that he deserved this, he took the offer, albeit hesitantly.

He was happy with his new workspace and colleagues as well, and was over the moon when he one of his erudite associates had a son the same age as his own, and recommended the city’s best kindergarten where his son was set to go. He went blindly on his associate’s word, because he knew him to be a wise dad.

For the first two months, he had to work relentlessly to prove his position as the new leader in the branch, and so he had his assistant pick Naruto up while he prepared lunch at home for his precious boy, barely making it home fifteen minutes before they did. But when the company celebrated their first real accomplishment, only then did Minato feel he could take a step back and indulge with his son more as he used to do.

When he began picking him up himself, he realised what he had been missing on: small quirky tales, new words his toddler learned, new friends’ names, his favourite teacher’s cookies apparently. Minato quickly noticed, being the perceptive man he was, that Naruto could go hours and hours talking about his Ma’am. He would have thought of it as a crush, had Naruto been older.

But when he first saw you, he could relate to his son if Naruto did have a crush. He knew he was being superficial, being attracted to your appearance at first sight but he couldn’t help himself that you were almost ethereal, too gorgeous to be true. It seemed as if you were glowing when you laughed alongside the kids or held one of them on your shoulders while searching for the parents.

However, your personality was even more so captivating when he finally talked to you at the parents-teachers conference. You were such a quality teacher, he deduced when he noticed how apt you were at describing each kid individually and how dedicated to their growth you were. He loved the bond you had with Naruto, the boy couldn’t stop grinning upon meeting you on his day off.

The bell rung, breaking him out of his reverie, and he waited as the kids ran to the parents, waving goodbyes here and there, ready for their weekend. He could hear your faint shouting over the buzz, “Make sure you have taken all your belongings, kiddos! Have a good weekend!”    

He knew if you had a special place in his son’s heart, he could let you stay in his heart as well.

It was 8 PM, one hour past the Uzumaki kid’s bedtime, but the blatantly crying kid was nowhere near sleeping. A distressed Minato held him on his hip, as he searched the entire house for his favourite plushie, Kurama, without whom Naruto had never slept.

“We’ll find him, Naru. Do you remember where you last saw it?” Minato asked, pausing and sitting in the comfy sofa, looking at Naruto, hoping he’d have an answer.

Naruto’s wails quietened down, fortunately there were no tears, as he pondered and spoke, “I last showed it to Ma’am!”

Minato sighed, he grasped that Naruto would have left it at the playschool because no inch of his house was unsearched. He settled Naruto down on the couch as he deliberated calling you over a toy. He had your number for emergencies, but was this one? The real objection, the actual reluctance he had for calling was totally different though. He hated to admit it, but talking to Naruto’s daydream of a teacher always left him stuttering like a teenager. He could barely listen and respond when he met her at the kindergarten, but talking to that Goddess one on one was more terrifying and nerve-wracking than moving to a new town.

But he knew there was no way Naruto would sleep without Kurama and it was only Friday, nights to wait if he doesn’t ask you about the plushie today. He couldn’t imagine how disheveled will Naruto be without Kurama by then. He would surely award himself with wine if he managed to finish the call without fainting.

With clammy hands and a vigorously pounding heart, he dialed the number.

You were finishing up the last batch of forms and cleaning up, when you saw something abruptly put in the otherwise shipshape playroom. Before you could further inspect, your phone rang, Mr. Uzumaki flashing on top of the screen. Your heart hammered as you wondered what he could be calling about.

You were not going to lie, Mr. Uzumaki was easy on the eyes, always in class A condition with his well-tailored suits as he came to pick Naruto up. Even the married housewives ogled him not-so-subtly. He was such an excellent father, really devoted in his son’s life while simultaneously conquering the business world. An eye candy, with all the best qualities that existed, an immensely put together God’s creation. He was dream partner to have, yet somehow he was single.

Your phone’s ring broke you out of your musing, as your sweaty palms grabbed the phone and received the cal.

“Good Evening, Mr. Uzumaki.” You managed out, your neck suddenly heating up.

“Good Evening, Miss. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

“Not at all, I was about to head home. How may I help you?”

“If you are still there at the playschool, could you please…… If you don’t mind….. I’m sorry again I called-”

“I assure you, it’s fine. You don’t need to worry about it. Although you do need to tell me the problem if you want me to help.” You giggled lightly, amused at that man stuttering.

“Thank you. Umm Naruto left his night time plushie there I suppose and he doesn’t sleep without it. Could you please, please check if it’s there?”

“Of course.” You held the phone and as you hummed and went to the Kid’s playroom you found Naruto’s sketchbook with the drawing laying on it, and the Kurama toy beside it. You swore you promised Naruto pack it earlier in the day.

“Looks like he did leave it here.”

“Can you keep the school open a bit late, I’ll come and collect it right aw-”

“Its pretty windy right now outside, and you’ll have to bring Naruto too at this hour. I’ll drop it at your home on my way back, I was planning in leaving in five anyways.” Your mouth spoke before you could process what you said, offering to go to his house? Nice going there, you desperate weirdo.

His choked out “Okay” almost surprised you as you ended the call.

This will be a nice, little detour.

About twenty minutes later, the doorbell to the Uzumaki household rang and Minato sprinted to the door, opening it immediately.

There you stood, with tousled hair from the wind, in your long red pea coat and black heels. Your cheeks lightly tinted, no doubt because of the unruly weather outside. Somehow you still looked absolutely perfect in Minato’s eyes as he traced your form, unable to initiate the conversation.

You, on the other hand, had halted completely when the door opened revealing a ripped Minato, his muscles bulging underneath his black shirt while grey sweatpants hung loosely on his hips. His biceps were so thick, you wondered how he managed to exercise on top of all the responsibilities he had.

You handed it over to Minato whose eyes widened at the piece of paper and stood there awkwardly, processing what to say.

Somehow stopping yourself from all the gawking, you cleared your throat as you dug in your black purse and took out Naruto’s best friend and his masterpiece.

“Guess he left this as well.” He gave a forced laugh, trying to make things less uncomfortable after he stood silent for two minutes.

You chuckled lightly in agreement when suddenly thunder boomed behind you, causing you to shriek and slip, only to be caught by Minato, his hands holding you around your middle tightly in a protective manner. You coughed as you stepped back again and he cleared his throat this time when suddenly it started pouring like hell’s rage on Earth.

“You should stay for a while, at least until the rain lightens.”

You were going to decline, but when you saw how bad it was raining, you knew you would have to accept. “Looks, like I’ll have to. Sorry to impose.”

“It’s no imposition at all. I’m inviting you, don’t fret.”

You stepped inside, shrugging your pea-coat off, revealing your black dress underneath. Minato reddened visibly, taking your pea-coat from you and hanging it. He cursed himself as he thought of conversation starters, wanting to say something, anything to not stand like a fool.

“Would you like wine? I have this blush flavoured bottle reading to drink.”

“I would love that, Thank you. What are you celebrating though, if I may ask?” You agreed, maybe the alcohol would calm your buzzing nerves. Besides you were a sucker for wine.

“Nothing much, a simple personal achievement of sorts.” He said with a grin as he led you inside, hopeful of where the night might lead. Maybe the liquid courage would help him finally ask you out.

Behind the wall, Naruto grinned with a pacifier in his mouth. Mission successful.

So that was that. Until next time, cookies.

[beecherdrysdale]

Project Partners - Brendan Brisson

Hey guys, so here’s a fic I started like a month ago and then kind of forgot about. Please send feedback bc I’m trying to improve my writing skills! Also, covid doesn’t exist in this.  

warnings: language, underage drinking, that’s all i think?

///

“Y/L/N and Brisson.” You groan as you hear your professor name your partner for the term-long project. Of course you know who Brendan Brisson is. You had grown up as a huge hockey fan, so of course you had been watching the draft when he got drafted by the Golden Knights, and of course you had seen him playing for Team USA at World Juniors. From what you could tell of him, he seemed like the kind of guy who would make you do all the work and use hockey as an excuse as to why he couldn’t help. That’s too bad for him though, because he’s not the only varsity athlete, and swimming takes up just as much time, if not more, than hockey. Your professor continues to drone on about the project requirements as you contemplate why you even decided to take this course in the first place. 

Finally, class ends, and you see Brendan walking toward you. “Hey, you’re Y/N, right? I’m Brendan,” he introduces himself.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. Guess I’m stuck with you for the rest of the semester, huh.”

“Yeah, so I just wanted to let you know I have hock-” he started.

“Save it, Brisson,” you cut him off, “you’re not the only athlete here, OK?”

“Wow, someone really woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Sorry,” you sigh, “I’m just really tired of having to do all the work in group projects. I did it enough in high school, and I’m just so done with everyone’s excuses y’know?”

“Well, what I was trying to say is that I have hockey a lot so we should coordinate our schedules to work around it.” He pauses a second, then adds, “And whatever sport you play.”

“Swimming,” you supply.

“What?” He looks confused.

“Swimming is the sport I do,” you clarify. “Anyways, does the library at 8 on Tuesdays and Thursdays work for you? Besides when you have games or I have meets obviously.”

“Yeah that works.”

“Ok, see you tomorrow then,” you reply, turning to leave.

“Wait!” he stops you. “Can I get your number or snap or something in case I need to talk to you?”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, quickly typing them into his phone.

“Thanks! See you tomorrow at 8,” he says before jogging to catch up to his friends.

///

The next day when you get to the library, the first thing you hear is, “You’re late. Where were you?”

“Sorry we got out of practice late and then I had to shower cuz chlorine and then I couldn’t find my hat and I didn’t want to go outside without it cuz my hair would freeze...” you begin to ramble.

“Hey, calm down, I was joking. You’re literally only like 2 minutes late.”

“Ok but I lowkey still feel bad.”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” he says, “Come on, let’s choose our topic.”

“Ok,” you respond, “so I don’t know if you have any ideas but I was thinking maybe we could do the effect of hockey on the Cold War? Cuz like you play hockey and I watch it all the time. Plus, I did a research paper on it in high school, so we could pull info from that and it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, seeming distracted. “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you’re a big hockey fan?”

“Ummm, cuz you never asked? You’ve literally only spoken like 3 words to me before yesterday so I don’t know why I would tell you.”

“Ok, I guess that’s true,” he responds. He then proceeds to quiz you about hockey, seemingly trying to make sure you’re an actual fan and not just trying to use hockey to get to him like some other girls he knows. You seem to pass his test, because it’s not long before the two of you are messing around, making fun of each other’s taste in hockey teams. Two hours later, the two of you have gotten to know each other a lot better, but you haven’t even started your project. 

“Shit,” you say, checking the time on your phone, “I gotta go. I still have to help my friend with her math and I have morning practice tomorrow.

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow in class,” he says. “And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be late.”

“Omg shut up. You’re not funny,” you say playfully, as he laughs his ass off.

“You know I am,” he shoots back.

“Sure, Brisson, whatever you say. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say as you leave.

///

After a few more library sessions, the animosity between you and Brendan which, you admit, was your fault had completely dissipated. The two of you quickly learn you actually have a lot in common, like your love of sports and your music taste, and despite his fratboy vibes you quickly grow to trust him. That’s why you don’t hesitate to say yes when he asks if you can meet at the hockey house to work on your project instead of in the library. 

When you arrive at the house, you are greeted by the sound of the entire hockey team arguing over whose turn it is to make dinner. “I have to work on my project though,” you can faintly hear Brendan.

“It’s OK Brisson, sounds like you have more important things to do. We’re somehow ahead of schedule anyway,” you say, entering the kitchen. 

“Seriously Y/L/N?” he groans. “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“Sorry,” you say, shrugging.

Your apology is interrupted by Cam, “Hey Brisson, who’s this? Wanna introduce us to your new girlfriend?”

“Funny,” you say. “We’re just friends. We got assigned to work on this project together. Isn’t he wheeling like 3-4 girls a weekend anyways?”

“Hey,” Brendan protests. “You make it sound like a bad thing. I only do what they want.”

“Beside the point Brisson,” Johnny jumps in. “Just introduce us to your new friend.

“Fine,” he groans. “Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are the guys. Now,” he says, grabbing your arm and dragging you toward the stairs, trying to make his escape, “let’s go work on our project.”

“Not so fast, Brisson,” Nolan cuts in. “You’re making dinner. Y/N said it’s fine.”

Brendan sighs in response.

“C’mon,” you say. “I’ll help you. I promise it’s not that hard.” 

Brendan begrudgingly follows you back to the kitchen as the rest of the guys scatter. You begin to pull the ingredients to make tacos, which thankfully they have, out of the fridge. “Here,” you say, tossing Brendan a tomato. “Can you dice this?”

The two of you work in silence for a few minutes before you decide to turn some music on. As you turn to reach for your phone, you glance over to see Brendan’s pile of tomatoes. “Seriously, Brisson?” you ask, staring at the haphazard pile in dismay. “Have you ever cut a tomato before? I had better cutting skills than that in preschool.” You hear a few guys snicker from the other room at that. After showing him how to cut it properly and turning on your Spotify, you continue to work, chirping Brendan occasionally. Once you and Brendan finish making dinner, you call the rest of the guys back into the kitchen to come eat. 

As the guys eat, they drill you with questions, trying to find out as much as they can about Brendan’s “project partner.” You answer all their questions, and by the end of dinner you fit in seamlessly with the boys, even joining in their good-natured chirping of one another. Eventually, you have to leave, but the boys are quick to let you know you’re always welcome back whether it’s for your food or your company, you don’t know before you go.

///

As soon as you leave, all eyes are on Brendan. “So Briss, you wanna tell us about your new girlfriend?” Nolan asks.

“She said it herself, we’re just friends. We’re working on a project together,” Brendan is quick to reply.

“Sure...” Cam counters. “Friends don’t look at friends like that Brisson.”

“Like what?” Brendan asks.

“Like she hung the stars in the sky or some shit like that,” Johnny responds. “Look Briss, just go for it. It’s not like she’s gonna say no, she literally looks at you the same way.”

“But she would say no,” Brendan protests. “She’s the one who said we’re just friends first so obviously she doesn’t like me like that. Why should I go for someone who’s gonna reject me when I an go to a party and pick up whatever girl I want, like she said?”

“Because you can’t get whatever girl you want, Brisson. She’s the one you want. We can all see it,” Johnny replies.

“Ok you know what, fuck off. Leave me alone. The two of us are just friends,” Brendan reaches his breaking point. At that, the guys let it drop, Brendan’s outburst giving them all the proof they need.

///

Meanwhile, you are back in your dorm chastising yourself. Why did you have to say you and Brendan are just friends? You know any chance you had of him liking you back is now gone, because he thinks you only think of him as a friend. You debate what to do, even going so far as to pick up your phone and tap on his contact, before changing your mind and getting ready for bed. Guys like him don’t go for girls like you anyway or so you think. You’re sure he wants one of those perfect girlfriends who are always put together and dress cute, not some athlete who always walks around in sweats, and the last thing you want to do is fuck up your friendship by confessing. You ignore the feeling of jealousy that rises in your chest when you think of Brendan with another girl and force yourself to go to sleep.

///

It’s not even two days before you get a snap from Nolan asking if you want to go to a party with all of the guys. You agree immediately because you don’t have morning practice tomorrow and your plans with friends got cancelled and you’ve secretly been looking for an excuse to see Brendan outside of working on your project.

That night, you try to dress extra cute, even going so far as to ask your roommate to help you choose your outfit as she seems to have no problems picking up guys. You finally settle on an outfit and hurry out the door, wanting to make sure you get to the party on time so you can meet the guys outside and not have to walk in alone. As you walk out the door, you hear your roommate call, “Have fun! Be safe! Use a condom!” You flip her off as the door closes. 

When you get to the party, you see the guys outside waiting for you. “Hey Y/N,” you hear a couple guys say.

“Heyyy,” you reply, as you guys start heading toward the house. Brendan lags behind the group, eyes trailing down your body. As much as he loved the fact that you wore what you wanted read: sweats and didn’t try to be a Barbie doll, he had to admit seeing you like this was hot. He hurries to reach the rest of the group, deciding you were standing just a little too close to Cam for his liking. He may not be able to be with you, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna watch you date one of his teammates. He catches up and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey Brisson,” you greet. “What’s up? You learned how to cut a tomato yet?”

“Haha, very funny Y/L/N,” he responds.

“Oh come on, you know it was,” you protest.

As soon as you guys enter the house Johnny says, “I’m going to get a drink. Anyone want one?”

“Yeah, can you get me a Natty?” you’re quick to respond. “But please make sure it’s closed.”

A couple other guys request drinks, and Johnny goes to get them while the rest of you head further inside. You stay with the guys pretty much the whole night, not wanting to get separated because you know what happens to girls who are at parties alone. 

At some point in the night you guys end up near the beer pong table, and when it’s Brendan’s turn he makes you be his partner not that you’re complaining and drags you over to the table. The two of you quickly get on a winning streak and you end up winning the tournament you got pulled into. At this point you’re pretty drunk, so you don’t hesitate to go along with it when Brendan hugs you, the two of you stumbling a little bit. Both of you are reluctant to let go, reveling in the feeling of each other, as each of you thinks the other doesn’t like you back so you’ll never get to experience the feeling again. 

You and the guys stay at the party a little longer before they realize how drunk you are because you had had more beers than any of them and decide its time to leave. All the guys come with you back to your dorm in order to make sure you get back safe, a gesture both you and your roommate thank them for before they leave.

///

It’s a couple weeks later and you’re hanging out with the guys, as has become usual for you, when Johnny ask, “Hey Y/L/N, how come you never come to any of our games? I thought Brisson said you’re a big hockey fan.”

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, “I just usually have swim when you guys have games. Plus you guys never invite me so...”

“Well we kinda assumed you already knew you were invited,” Nolan says. “You’re always welcome at our games, and if you tell us you’re coming we can probably get you good seats.”

“OK, well we actually don’t have swim practice on Friday for some reason, so I can probably come,” you say. “I’ll try to drag my roommate to come with too.”

The boys groan, “Really, Y/N? You want us to get two tickets? Do you know how much work that is?” before quickly revealing that they’re joking and telling you that of course they’ll get you two tickets.

///

True to the boys’ word, when Johnny sits next to you in your class together on Friday, he hands you an envelope with two tickets. “What are you wearing to the game tonight?” he asks with a plan up his sleeve.

“I don’t know,” you respond. “Probably my Michigan swimming hoodie.”

“You wear that everywhere though,” he protests.

“Yeah, so?” you fire back. “It’s a Michigan hoodie. School spirit.”

“Or you could wear this,” he says pulling something out of his backpack. He unfolds it to reveal that it’s one of Brendan’s hockey hoodies.

“Doesn’t he need that for the game tonight?” you ask.

“No, he has two,” Johnny replies. “Now stop trying to get out of wearing it. You have to wear something hockey related to support us.”

“Ugh fine,” you give in, knowing Johnny will be persistent.

///

That evening, you arrive at the arena with your roommate, begrudgingly wearing the hoodie with “Brisson” boldly stamped across your back. You are not enjoying yourself, because knowing what it feels like to wear Brendan’s sweatshirt and smell his cologne makes you all the more aware that this will never be your reality. Nevertheless, you force a smile on your face as you and your roommate sit down to watch warmups. You can feel the energy in the arena even now, before the game begins, as UMich is playing rival school Ohio State. 

Once warmups are over you and your roommate go to use the bathroom and get snacks. The line for the bathroom is so long you don’t think you’ll make it back to your seats before the game starts, but thankfully you get to them just a second before puck drop. The game gets off to a rough start, with Ohio State scoring twice early, but by the end of the first the guys have picked up their pace, and you hope that they’ll be able to tie it up in the second.

After intermission, the boys come out guns blazing. Brendan scores just 30 seconds in to the period off an offensive zone face-off win. As he cellies, he makes eye contact with you up in the stands. “He is so into you!” your roommate squeals when she notices.

“No he’s not, shut up,” you reply, turning your focus back to the game. The guys stay on the forecheck pretty much the whole period, and it finally pays off when Johnny scores with 5 minutes left to play in the second. When the period ends and the guys head back to the locker room, the game is tied 2-2.

The third period begins with an Ohio State faceoff win, and they quickly get off a shot attempt. Thankfully, the shot goes wide and play continues. The teams go back and forth all period getting good scoring chances, but neither team is able to capitalize. It looks like the game is going to go to overtime, but then Brendan scores again with just 43 seconds remaining. Once again, he makes eye contact with you and smiles as he cellies, and once again your roommate freaks out and says that he definitely likes you. You make her shut up and start to grab your stuff as the final seconds wind down. 

“Woah, slow down. Where are we going?” she asks.

“The guys told me to meet them outside the locker rooms,” you say, beginning to lead the way.

///

When you get to the hallway outside the locker room, you lean up against the wall and start scrolling through Insta as you wait for the guys to come out. Eventually the guys slowly begin trickling out of the locker room and heading over to their various girlfriends gathered in the hallway as all the single guys congregate around you, but you ignore them so you don’t get dragged into one of their arguments. 

Finally, you see Brendan come out of the locker room so you put your phone away and push your body away from the wall. He starts to make a beeline toward you and does a double take when he realizes you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts. The guys had been bugging him for weeks to ask you out and he had been thinking of maybe doing it tonight, but seeing you in his sweatshirt has finally given him the confidence to make a move. As he reaches you, you say, “Hey Briss.”

“Hey,” he replies, and then his lips are on yours, and you don’t know where this is coming from but you’ve been wanting it for a while now so of course you kiss back, and it just feels so right you don’t ever want to stop. When you finally break apart, all the guys are cheering and whistling and you hear a couple guys mutter “finally”.

As the guys quiet down, you ask Brendan, “What was that for?”

“Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have done it,” he panics, thinking you were mad, even though you kissed back so you obviously weren’t.

“No, I liked it,” comes your reply. “It just kinda came out of nowhere.”

“Oh,” he calms down. “Well I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now, but I was kinda nervous so I kept putting it off. But then you looked really hot in my hoodie, so I just went for it.”

“Yes,” you say.

“Yes, what?” he asks, looking confused.

“You said you wanted to ask me out. I said yes,” you explain.

“Ok, so do you want to go get Chipotle or something tomorrow then?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course,” you reply. “But for now let’s go out and celebrate with the other guys.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk with the team, and you are finally content.

[books-and-dragons]

pegoryu (pre-established) post-interrogation hurt/comfort fic. has mentions of nightmares, trauma, and implied physical assault. unedited and for that i big apologise in advance

___________

okay!!! so this fic has been sitting in my drafts for months (lol what else is knew i know, shush i’m getting to the point) and i was supposed to post it on ao3 at the same time as i did a couple of others, however never got around to it bc it needed editing and im too lazy for that

likelihood is, i will edit and post to ao3 at some point, but it needs some BIG rennovations and i just can’t be arsed atm

so yeah, apologies for the shoddy writing in advance xoxo

but for now, i wanted to post it on here. today. as a sign of goodwill for the year to come. (ie. i own p5r, still havent played it, need to play it, and hope posting this will kick me into gear)

so, hope you enjoy!! and lmao if not it’ll just get buried as i start to revive this blog so,...win win?

In the first few nights since the interrogation, Ryuji stayed awake, listening to the fragile shudders of Akira’s breath in the night. So sensitive to every breath of air restricted by broken ribs, Ryuji hadn’t needed to look across the room, to gaze at the beaten figure on the bed, to know how his face was contorted in pain- unmasked in sleep.

He refused to so much as close his eyes until Akira’s breathing levelled out, still shuddering and restricted by pain, but deep enough to assure him that Akira was asleep. Only then, Ryuji allowed himself to rest.

Nobody else stayed the night. They lingered until the last train, crowded around the attic bedroom, gaze worriedly resting on Akira until the final second, where they’d leave with the accompanying chime of Leblanc’s door closing. But not Ryuji.

Ryuji, who had refused to leave Akira’s side since the moment he’d returned to their arms, beaten and drugged up, hardly coherent, but so relievingly and perfectly alive.

Akira hadn’t been alone since, Ryuji ensured that much. Torn over so much as going across the road for a bath, he couldn’t leave the other boy alone- something pulled at him to never let that happen, a pit of fear in the bottom of his stomach that pulled at his every nerve.

Maybe it had something to do with the nightmares, the visions of Akira lying broken on cold tile, at the mercilessly unrelenting hands of the police, the images of Akira lying dead, blood pooling from his head, the way the images seemed to haunt him even when awake- but there was no point reading into it. It wasn’t important, especially not now.

What mattered was that when he woke up, breath haggard and skin shining with sweat under the light of outdoor streetlamps, Akira never woke. Wasn’t even perturbed. 

Ryuji tried to be thankful for it, tried not to think about why Akira was suddenly such a deep sleeper. Ignored the puncture wounds on his neck, the bottle of painkillers by his bedside. Akira was resting, and that was enough.

Even if it didn’t make sense that, when morning rose, the dark circles under Akira’s eyes had grown. That he tried to muffle pained yawns behind bandaged hands, and begged for more coffee- even though Takemi had put him on a temporary ban.

Because Ryuji had seen him sleeping, watched the rise and fall of his chest as Ryuji reminded himself that Akira was alive and safe, it was the sight that lulled him back to sleep from a nightmare. So why did Akira always look so tired?

He tried not to let his growing concern show, there was already so much to be worried about, he didn’t want to add another. Especially not when it could be nothing but his own annoying thoughts.

It wasn’t until the next night, after a particularly painful and thorough visit from Takemi earlier that day, that Ryuji started to reconsider.

Blearily opening his eyes to the dark lighting of the attic, Ryuji didn’t need a clock to know it was well into the middle of the night, and that he’d been woken up from his sleep, again.

But it was weird. There was none of the usual constricting fear, the blind panic- he’d hardly even started seeing the figure of a beaten Akira surrounded by shadow, let alone begun imagining the worst. 

About to blame it on the lumpy and painful springs of the couch and try to fall back asleep, Ryuji caught it. Quiet, as if muffled by something, but just loud enough to penetrate through the silence in the attic and reach Ryuji: crying.

No. Not crying.

Sobbing.

Ice burning in his stomach, he carefully lifted the blanket and rose, wary of creaking springs and the sound of rustling fabric, towards the shaking figure on the bed.

His voice was barely above a whisper, carrying clearly and softly through the silence as he carefully extended an arm, not touching, only hovering, “Akira?”

The responding flinch broke Ryuji’s heart all the more, as a head rose from under the covers, bloodshot eyes wide and darting around the room in panic, hair wildly askew. 

Moving as slowly as he dared, Ryuji sat at the side of the bed, “Hey, it’s okay, it’s only me.”

As the mattress shifted under him, Akira froze. Muscles tight and unyielding, back as ramrod straight as his broken ribs would allow, the entire body braced for something Ryuji didn’t even want to think about. His gaze was distant, somewhere far away from Leblanc, from the blond sat right beside him.

It reminded Ryuji of his Ma, in the months after the divorce. Curled up together on the dingy bed, they’d cling to each other so tight even in sleep, waking up in the morning sweaty and sometimes a little uncomfortable, never minding because they woke feeling completely safe. But there were the nights when his Ma’s screams would wake him in the early hours, recoiling and shaking even in her sleep. Ryuji would sit upright and watch over her until sunrise, would try to pull her from the memories he knew haunted her. Haunted them both.

Looking at Akira, the striking familiarity of the situation made him want to hurl.

He didn’t move, no matter how strong the urge was to reach out and console his hurting best friend. Instead, he kept his voice quiet, just audible above the laboured sobs, and waited.

“You’re okay, Akira. You’re safe, I’m not goin’ anywhere, alright? You’ve got me, it’s okay-”

Slowly, the frantic scanning of the room stopped. Staring at the artificial yellow light that bathed Leblanc’s street, following it into the shadows of the attic, where dark figures seemed to fade away. The flash of blond in his vision, perfectly still, aside from the hushed mutterings leaving chapped lips.

Akira focused on that sound. It felt safe.

As Ryuji uttered soft words of reassurance, he watched the tension slowly leave Akira’s body. Shoulders slightly slouched, jaw unclenched, his lip was bleeding- but he could worry about that later. All that mattered was the softening of Akira’s lines, as he slowly came back to Ryuji.

Delicately as he dared, he reached out. Hand brushing against bruised skin, careful not to as much as press on the marred areas. For a moment, there was no response. He waited, watching the panic continue to leave until, slightly trembling, Akira’s hand interlaced with his own.

“Ryuji?” The hazed look in his eyes was clearing, staring at Ryuji with a newly discovered relief, which was quickly overtaken by shame, “Shit- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up, just go back to sleep I’m fine-”

“Hey no, no man it’s okay, really-” Feeling Akira begin to pull away, Ryuji let his thumb run over the back of his hand, determinedly meeting Akira’s gaze, “I don’t mind.”

Akira opened his mouth, ready to retort and insist, but found himself silenced by the look in the other boy’s eyes. Ryuji’s hand was warm, and for a moment Akira forgot there were even any injuries there at all, thumb tracing over them with such a delicate touch he hadn’t known the blond to have possessed.

Staring into Ryuji’s eyes, he wondered at how they were always so open and unguarded, never with anything to hide- a true reflection of his best friend, passionate and honest to a fault. It was something Akira had often envied, that ability to always be his true self, to freely display his emotions. 

He almost took that back now, staring back into deep brown eyes. Eyes which so clearly reflected hurt and worry.

The raw concern so honestly displayed to him that, just in this moment, Akira decided he would allow himself to be vulnerable. Just this one time. Knowing that, as they had done for each other so many times before, Ryuji would never judge.

Hesitantly, Akira pulled his hand out of Ryuji’s and, ignoring the concerned look he got in return, allowed his hand to trace higher, around his forearm, pulling him closer with a silent plea.

As always, Ryuji understood.

Carefully reaching out, Ryuji wrapped his arms around Akira, pulling him to his chest. His touch is firm, but cautious of the bruising and bandages decorating Akira’s abdomen. Even then, careful as he was, the occasional shift sent twinges of pain up Akira’s spine. And yet, he found he didn’t mind- not when he was so surrounded by warmth and comfort and the steady beat of Ryuji’s heart just audible through his chest, that for a minute Akira feels like he can just forget-

Somehow, Ryuji shifts so they’re leaning against the back wall, Akira’s head resting high on Ryuji’s chest, ear pressed to his left side. Logically, Ryuji supposed now would be a good time to ask about what just happened, about the dark circles under Akira’s eyes and the fear still lingering when he caught sight of shadows in the room- but there would be other opportunities. When Akira wasn’t so damn exhausted and clinging to Ryuji like he’s the final lifeline holding Akira together. When neither of them would be waking up in the middle of the night, a frenzied mess, and worrying about suspicious strangers in public and carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Yeah, there would be other times to talk. But for now, Ryuji would stay with Akira and listen as his breathing mellowed out into deep breaths, as his grip on the blond weakened and he cuddled closer still, lost to the throes of sleep.

Ryuji will stay with him until the sun rises.

Neither of them were plagued by nightmares for the rest of the night.

[aestheticdenki]

Electric Shock- Denki Kaminari

You’ve had a secret crush on Denki from class 1-A for awhile now. The best time to confess of course is after he sneeze shocks you.

—————————————————

You watched silently as Shinsou read, only turning to look out the window when he had picked up another book. Due to an issue in class 1-B’s dorm, your class was forced to partner up and stay in the few extra rooms that 1-A had left. Thankfully, you got Shinsou, an easy going, quiet person that just so happens to be your best friend. Unfortunately, you also got partnered with your other friend, Monoma. While he could be quiet at times, he absolutely loved annoying class 1-A. Because he was staying with you, you had to keep an eye on him. Right now though, he was asleep, occasionally shuffling here and there and whimpering, dreaming perhaps. Out the window, you could see Midoryia practicing with the air, improving his technique. The warm glow of the evening light looked enticing, so you visited Izuku. “Hey, Midoryia!” He stopped and looked at you. From where you were standing, you could see a sheen of sticky sweat on his skin. “Hey, ______!” “Do you need something to practice on? I can draw up a clay figure.” Izuku nodded his head excitedly. Most people didn’t know you had a drawing quirk. When they found out, it was astonishing.

Your pad appeared from thin air and you started drawing a replica of Uraraka. When you were done, you tapped the dirt and watched as the mud and clay formed the delicate girl. “Uraraka?” He was so amazed by your drawing that he forgot that she was here to fight him. Suddenly, he started to float. He was hovering in midair when he realized that the clay figure had touched him right before he started to drift upwards. Looking down, he noticed that the clay figurine had her hands together, the same way the real girl used her quirk. “That’s SO COOL!” You let out a small chuckle. “She won’t disappear until you defeat her.” You yelled upwords, right before the figurine released her hands and the boy fell to the ground, now in a battle state of mind. The sun was inviting, as you had thought, it was warm and subtle. Not too hot and not too cold. Surprisingly, Midoryia defeated Uraraka quickly. You conjured up a different person, this one being Iida hoping that it’ll give you more time to work on some other people to draw. Thankfully, you can save drafts and you’ve sparred with some of your own creations so some people are already drawn. People like Bakugo, Todoroki, Shinsou, All Might, Shigaraki and Stain. Those last two are your little secret.

“Is that...me?” Getting startled, you accidentally drew a line through the face you were drawing. Iida stood at the door watching the clay figurine kick up dust. “Yes.” A few others came out to watch as well. “Whose work is this?” Todoroki inquired, wanting to know in case he wanted to do some extra sparring. “Why, it's the favorite quirk in UA and guess what? She’s in our class. Guess that sucks for you.” “Shut up, Monoma.” You sat the pad to the side and quickly grabbed his ear to sit by you. “That is my quirk by the way.” “Can you make anybody?” “As long as I know their faces and their quirks.” Finally, Midoryia defeated clay Iida. “Give me another one. A hard one.” Hmmm. All Might should work. The students gasped in awe at the very detailed All Might forming out of the clay that was used from Iida. “I am here!” Although the voice doesn’t sound exact, it was pretty spot on with a gravelly texture but what can you possibly do with clay and voices? Mineta slithered up beside you. “Who ya drawing now?” “Someone from class 1-A…” “Is it me?” You laughed. “No, I haven’t drawn you yet.” “Who else have you drawn?” A rosy tint appeared on your cheeks. Telling who, will show that you have been staring at some of them (ehem, the boys).

“Um, for the girls, Uraraka, Yaoyorozu,” The aforementioned squealed and wanted to fight against herself. “Tsuyu, Jirō, Mina, Hagakure. For the boys, Shinsou, Aoyama, Iida, obviously. Bakugou and Todoroki.” The girls felt honoured that you had drawn all of them. “The boys aren’t correctly detailed all the way through because um-“ The heat rose to your cheeks again. “It’s hard not to look creepy while staring at them.” Honestly, you forgot about Mineta until he spoke up. “You can look at me all you want…” he drooled a little. “Thanks, Neta!” You weren’t falling for his dumbass tricks. Nope. You were gonna ignore him. Iida and Kirishima also offered to let you study them to draw them in great detail. “____! Another one, please.” “Take a break, Midoryia.” Iida pressed on when he tried to talk back. You gladly brought a Yaoyorozu to life when the real one wanted to fight herself. A little while later, everyone was heading inside to cook and you were still drawing and building figurines for Izuku. A hand tapped your shoulder softly making you slightly jump. Your eyes travelled up the body from the feet to the face and the white and red hair. It was Todoroki. “Hey, u-um, if you want, you can study me too. I think you draw people exactly the way they fight and it’ll be a good learning experience for me if I can watch the way I fight.” You smiled and thanked him. He slightly, very slightly, tilted the ends of his lips up into a smile.

—————————————————————

You awoke to the screaming of Present Mic and your body slamming to the floor which made a considerably louder noise than the voice. Aizawa and Present Mic appeared at your door to ask if you were alright. “Yeah, just fell from the top bunk. Sorry.” “NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE, YO.” Stupid Monoma and his triple bunk bed idea. You’d rather sleep with Shinsou than deal with the chance of falling out in the middle of the night. The fall caused you to be slightly grumpy. You hate waking up. Sighing, you got dressed and then woke up Shinsou and Monoma. “Come on, we have practice today.” After making sure they were awake, you headed down to help with breakfast. Only a few were already dressed. Morning people you assume. “ おはよう, Iida, Yaoyorozu and Midoryia.” They all greeted you happily. It looks like breakfast was done. You decided to go check up on the boys since they weren’t out yet and it wouldn’t be long before the food is all gone. Somehow, you got partnered with boys and had the room on the boys side. What luck! And it seems that a few of them have forgotten already judging by Kirishima and Sero walking out shirtless. “Good morning, guys.” “Good morning,” they droned out.

It got worse when you ran into a shirtless Kaminari. “Does no one wear shirts in the morning?” “Sorry, ______-chan!” He helped you up and you thanked him. You were going to punch the next person who was shirtless, and you didn’t care who it was. You opened your door to find, surprise, surprise, Monoma shirtless. But thankfully, he was putting a shirt on. Shinsou, on the other hand, was already dressed. “Get up, let’s go. Food.” “I’m not hungry.” Seriously? “I am, so let’s go get me some food.” “No.” You grabbed your pad and picked Shinsou. This time, he was made out of blankets. You laughed evilly and the real Shinsou was picked up by himself. He was startled but relaxed again. No walking. You pushed Monoma out the door and made it to the dining room. “Woah, you can make them out of blankets too?” To say, Izuku was impressed was an understatement. “I can make them out of whatever I want to use.” The blanket Shinsou sat the real one on a chair before going back to the room to return to its normal state.

The training took forever, it seemed. By the end, all of you were covered in sweat whether it be a lot or just a sheen layer. “You get the rest of the day off. Stay on campus.” Aizawa freed you to do whatever. Someone said that you guys should go to the pool but that requires permission. And who did they put up to ask? You. Midnight’s favorite. Why Midnight? Because she just absolutely thinks you are the cutest and loves how you’ve drawn her. She also loves how, deep down, you are sadistic too. “Midnight-san? Can we use the pool?” Aizawa started to give you a time to get out but he got cut off. “Of course! That sounds so wonderful. Go for as long as you like my baby!” “Thank you Midnight-san!” She squealed and watched you walk away. “You’ve got to stop playing favorites.” “Lighten up Aizawa! Isn’t she the cutest. You like her drive in class too. You’ve said it before.” He sighed and stared at the dominatrix. “I do but I do not favor her.” “Oh that’s right, you favor Shinsou. Which is her best friend. Oh they’d make a hot couple.” Midnight was useless to fight against Aizawa concluded before rolling up like a caterpillar in his ugly yellow sleeping bag.

When you coaxed Shinsou to get in the pool, you did not expect him and Monoma to gang up against you. You felt yourself get picked up and thrown into the pool. Monoma and Aoyama laughed as they stood right where you had. Letting yourself laugh as well, you splashed them and watched as they screamed. Excitedly, you swam over to Shinsou and held onto his back like an octopus (I should not have found that as funny as I did). “Shinsou! You’re freezing!” “It’s cold.” You let him go and told him to go warm up. Now only you, Kaminari and Midoryia were in the pool. “DENKI’S GOING TO SNEEZE!” Being too far away from the sides of the pool, you curse and brace yourself for the shock. You yelped when a loud achoo was heard and a shock traveled through your body. Turns out you were right next to the boy so the shock was worse. He was ready to sneeze again when you abruptly held his nose. “You fucking sneeze again and I’ll end your life.” You’d like to say that your threat had worked but it didn’t. As soon as you let go, he sneezed again. “DENKI!” Uh oh. He started to swim away and eventually made it on land. Breaking all of Iida’s rules, the two of you started running, one running away and the other running after.

It wasn’t until he stopped and you crashed into him that you realized you were on the edge of the pool. Kaminari held onto your waist to keep you from hitting him as the water surrounded you two. You sort of wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his torso as you felt yourself losing consciousness. All the exercise when your body was in pain from the shocks caused you to over exert your body. The last thing you felt was your bodies resurfacing and the heat from someone’s hand warming up your body. You awoke to the blinding sun and Midnight looking at you worried. You noticed she was adorned in a one piece bathing suit that looked quite well on her. “Are you alright?” “I think so, Midnight-san.” “I came out to watch you guys when I saw Kaminari carrying your unconscious body from the pool.” Kaminari! “Where is he?” “He’s feeling guilty while Shinsou reams him for shocking you. Maybe he should be banned from the pool.” You sat up abruptly causing you to wince, your muscles still tingling. “No. I would’ve been fine had we not fell in the water after running.” Once she decided you were okay, she hopped in the water and told everyone else they can join and not be worried.

Kaminari decided to sit out in the corner watching the others play and have fun. You hobbled over to him and sat down next to him. “Why aren’t you in the pool?” His golden eyes met yours. “I feel bad and if you can’t swim then I’m not swimming.” “You got banned didn’t you?” “That too.” You giggled at him. “What are we going to do with you Denki? Hmm?” He shrugged and shivered as a cold drop of water fell from his hair. You grabbed your towel and stood up. “Can I dry your hair?” “Sure!” Softly, you ran the towel through his hair before you deemed it dry enough. A piece of wet hair fell on his nose and he began to sniffle getting ready to sneeze. Just as he was on the brink of sneezing, you kissed him. You still got shocked just not as bad. When you pulled back you realized that Kaminari had just short circuited. “Dummy,” you whispered to no one in particular. Your head felt heavy, so you decided to lean in on Kaminari’s shoulder. Slowly, you started to drift off only waking up when someone was shaking you. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.” It was Denki. As you looked around, you realized you two were alone and it was beginning to go dark.

“Where is everyone?” “I told them I’d bring you home when you woke up.” You sighed and secretly wished that someone had woken you up. “Now, let’s talk about earlier. What was that?” A pink tint appeared on your sun kissed cheeks. “A kiss?” “I know but why?” You hoped he didn’t hate you for it. “My dad used to do that to my mom all the time to stop her from sneezing. I decided to do it because I didn’t want to get shocked again.” “So it’s not because I’m cute?” He pouted and you may or may not have died on the inside. “I mean, I wouldn’t have kissed anyone else.” There it was, your indirect confession. For months now, you have been crushing on Kaminari. You’ve drawn him over a dozen times in a secret file so no one would criticize you for it. “Well I-I think yo-your cute too.” Oh really? “Really?” “Mmhm.” The two of you could have disintegrated from how hot your cheeks were. “M-maybe in a few weeks when summer starts, w-we can go on a-a date.” “I like that idea!” You pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek and grabbed his hand. “Let’s go home.” “Wait, one thing before.” Confused, you turned towards him only to be met with a kiss. “I’ll be doing that in secret until we get caught.” With that, he winked and walked with you to the dorms. He only got in four days worth of kisses before Bakugou outed you two after being a sore loser.

[anthropwashere]

deadfic: welcome the unknown

Another one for @goodintentionswipfest, and the oldest of the lot I’ll be posting by a significant margin! As in written in 2009 old. You’ve been warned.

Gonna put the whole fic under a readmore because JTHM fics have one setting and that’s Upsetting, so have some naval gazing from me first.

2009 was uhhhhh, some kind of year for me. It was the year I graduated high school, and the year I was a little bit homeless, and the year I wished I was a little bit homeless for longer so I could have avoided some bananas shit, and the year I spent waiting on tenterhooks mid-recession before I could run from a ehhh home life off to the military.

18 year old anthrop was working through some shit while writing this thing, is what I'm saying.

This was intended as a prequel to a fic I was working on in high school, while also being kind of a stand alone fic? If you've been with me since my JTHM days (wow) you'll recognize what it might have been for, but otherwise don't worry about it. This is a bit all over the place but there are still a lot of pieces I'm fond of and honestly, it's nice to see where I was as a writer and how far I've come in comparison? Too many of us fandom writers destroy huge swaths of our work out of this terribly sad and unnecessary shame for liking "cringy" things, and to this day I regret doing the same to virtually all the things I wrote for my first few fandoms. Cheesy and heavy-handed as this fic is, it's nice to have around still, you know? I cared about this fic. Working on it kept me sane during an extremely shitty summer. I dearly wish I still had the first draft, which I remember writing in different colored markers on folded sheets of computer paper hunched up in any random little corner I could get some time alone. Alas, like 98% of the rest of my things pre-military, it's gone for good.

Title comes from Robbers on High Street's "The Fatalist," which sure was a song I had on repeat a lot back in 2009.

=

Everywhere is dirty. Filth and stink and dead particles on everything he touches. He'd fallen asleep, and somebody had broken into his house and poured the offal of a thousand trash cans onto everything and smeared it in deep. 

Asshole. 

Really though, they are all assholes. Shit-smeared animals groping around on all fours, blind and deaf and desensitized to whatever little good was left in the world around them. 

They make so much noise. All they do is scream, and whenever someone manages to gasp out a non sequitur the whole world applauds, casting them into the history books for the next generation to draw penises upon their photographs. It is all a matter of course.

It can't just be him that sees this. One look outside is enough to prove his point. Why else would he board up all the windows? To keep the assholes from looking in, of course.

The assholes are everywhere these days, screaming and fucking. Fucking. They're good at that too. Reproduction. Bucking hips and nails across skin and incredible, terrible intimacy, the exchanging of fluids. Disease of the flesh, fever of the mind. A new generation born in every positive pregnancy test, a new generation dead in every street corner abortion clinic. Babies. Disgusting, germ-ridden things. Oh God, don't let it touch him with its fat little hands shiny with saliva and the green ooze that won't cease dripping from the holes in its face. He doesn't know what'll happen, what he'll do if this thing gets too close, but he has ideas, and none of them are pleasant.

He always has ideas.

He blinks, and the baby and the stinking slut mother cooing at it with too-red lips and salon-styled hair and the bus and the roaring all vanish. He stumbles and knocks an elbow against the dresser.

The smell in here is somehow worse now. Like old vomit in high summer. Is it vomit? Is it his vomit?

He decides it's better not to now, at least not now. He feels a strange mood coming. High tide comes to drown the starfish, already dried by the sun. Perhaps it is a mood he needs, but then again, perhaps it comes too late.

Something cracks, and the edges go soft and drip in a puddle of wax.

He burns his fingers by candlelight.

=

"Johnny?"

"Bunny?"

His throat burns. It hurts to breathe.

"Oh thank God, you can hear me again. You're back."

"What—" He breaks off, coughing. Blood in his mouth, on his teeth. He licks them clean and swallows. "What are you talking about?"

Bunny sounds small and tired in his ears—

Mind?

—and there was fear, Johnny can hear it licking at the corners of Bunny's— 

His?

—voice, but it has faded with time. Johnny suspects he has been asleep for a very long time.

 "I've been trying to reach you for… God, I don't even know how long." Bunny trails off.

He looks around, his eyes struggling to see in the pre-dawn light trickling in through a dozen half-circle windows on the floor above wherever he is. More by the smell than anything, he realizes he is surrounded by blood and bodies. A part of him knows he shouldn't be comforted by this, shouldn't find this scene familiar.

And yet.

"I was scared, Nny."

He hiccups, chokes, and spits out three bullets.

=

The mirror is laughing at him.

He sneers at it. Squints as two left hands do two different things, almost identical but the blur is still visible, still there.

He was wrong, he knows that now. There isn't just one person, one world, one reality on the other side of the mirror. There are dozens, maybe hundreds. Maybe thousands. Not all at once, of course, but there seems to be another pair of eyes staring back, another mouth talking at everyone and no one, each time he looks hard enough, long enough. The edges blur, fingers drag in slow-motion arcs, teeth where teeth shouldn't be, a hundred shades of skin and hair and eyes.

He can't remember the last time he showered.

=

“You look like shit, Nny,” observes the Burger Boy.

“Yes.”

“You really should do something about it.”

“Yes.”

He drives the pen through the paper and carves something into the wood that later he won't understand.

=

Greasy. He is so greasy. The others in the mirror bow out of the way to let him see the unwashed, true reflection of himself. He makes a face, drags his cheeks down to his jaw and waggles his tongue, and the reflection follows accordingly. No blur. 

Yep, that’s him all over.

Devi screams, her face set in a terrified, furious, how-could-you-you-shithead expression, and smashes his face against the mirror. His nose breaks on impact, glass stabs, digs, and catches, and drags down his cheeks and forehead. Blood everywhere, his blood. A tooth goes flying as his chin hits the dressing table’s pitted surface with a crack that sickens him even as the edges of his sight turn black, and the pain is more than noise can express. Blood on Devi’s knuckles. Fingers ripping out his hair.

No.

Everything pauses, then it all reverses in an instant, and he is left standing before a dirty mirror with too many faces looking back.

That already happened— a long long long long time ago

—and he is better now. Devi is better now too. He hasn’t talked to her in awhile but she is around, she is there, and everything is okay now. There is some blood dried into the floorboards still—was that were the stink is coming from?—but his scars have faded. He has forgiven, and he thought he had forgotten.

He’d gotten a new mirror and everything.

=

“Hi Nny.”

“Evening.”

Squee leans back on his heels before the underbelly of a machine Johnny has no understanding of and glares. With his sleeves rolled up past his elbows, smears of engine grease on his hands, sweat on his face, and looking like a mix of engineer, mad scientist, and responsible adult, Johnny has no idea how to treat the boy-now-man-next-door.

"How've you been? Whatcha been up to these days?"

There is something unspoken, something furious and accusing underneath the easy drawl of the questions. He can't imagine what Squee could be angry with him about. He is at a loss, also, at how to respond to the heavy questions thrown at him so casually. He struggles under their weight, unable to answer, unable to keep quiet, unable to lie.

Squee chuckles as he stands in one smooth motion centered on his knees and cleans his glasses with a rag from his pocket. "It's okay, shit, calm down. Not like I got a gun to your head or anything."

For some reason, he feels himself flinch. Squee's eyebrows knit and relax in an instant.

"Let's see," Squee muses. "You look like you, I'm pretty sure your car still works, and I'm currently over at Pepito's for some headfuck or another. Okay, I think I know what year this is. Awesome." He puts his glasses on and shares a smile that could cut glass.

"What are you talking about?"

Squee looks surprised, but after a moment laughs a quiet little laugh. "That's right, I forgot. This is the year you do your weird losing-time thing, yeah? Haha, you freaked me out even more all summer. I think I slept on the roof more than I did my own room. Oh God, this is even better!" He laughs again, louder, and claps a hand on the shoulder of the strange machine.

He can't think of any kind of response to this before Squee speaks again. "Fuck, Johnny, you really think seeing me at nine one day and twenty-three the next is normal?"

He thought about it. "Noooot really. No."

"That is exactly—what—How did you even recognize me?" He gestures at himself, and his eyebrows do something halfway between emulating surprise and gut-busting dislike.

"Who else could you be?"

This time his laugh is loud and body shaking, and he thumps the machine as if Johnny has said something incredibly witty. "Wow, okay, if that logic works for you it works for me, you crazy fuck."

He did not just hear that. "What did you call me?"

Squee smiles again, but his eyes remain cold and flinty and full of hate towards something—Johnny suspects—he has done in the future. Goddamnit, future self, way to ruin a good thing. But his hands still clench, his joints lock. How dare Squee? How could he?

But the boy-now-man-next-door acts as if nothing has changed. "So I can't remember how your art or lack thereof is working out in this little slice of time. You paintin' with any other color 'sides red?"

Why was Squee acting like this? "Of course I am."

He isn't.

Squee scratches his neck, scratches at scabs over long, thin lacerations in finger-shaped bruises, and Johnny wonders if what he's feeling now is how the man felt when he had still been a boy, and the scary neighbor man once crawled through the window to tell him a bedtime story. 

"You know, somehow I doubt that."

=

His fingers itch for activity. He hasn't left the house in days, maybe weeks. Does it matter?

He licks his lips and swallows, fighting down familiar urges. He can beat this.

=

"Do you have a problem with me?"

"Oh god oh god oh god why are you doing this—"

"Excuse me, I asked you a question."

Gently touch the controls, tack the pressure on, oh, just a little more. Just enough to make them scream.

=

The back of his head itches, and when he scratches his fingers come away red. No pain, just blood. So it isn't his then. But he can't remember killing anyone.

He looks away from his hand and out the window, at the outside world creeping in through the cracks between the boards. Outside there is no sun, no moon, no stars, no anything. His breath hitches.

It's raining.

He exhales.

The door is open though he doesn't remember leaving it so, so he takes the hint and walks outside. He inhales, tasting the hot summer smell of wet concrete and the cloying reek of decomposing bodies in his front yard. The million million light bulbs of the city throw their energy skyward, and the roiling clouds eat the light whole. A weird, orange glow from above casts the city into an otherworldly scene, and, feeling a little silly, he wonders if tonight might be the beginning of the apocalypse, and the idea doesn't sound half bad.

In the driveway, the concrete is slick with oil. He stands there a while, letting the rain wash the human grease out of his hair. It takes him just as long to realize his car is missing.

"That's funny," he says aloud, wiping the rainwater out of his eyes. "I don't remember teleporting home. Unless—was it Tuesday yesterday? I don't think it was, but—"

There is a soft, scared inhale of breath, a backwards scream. He turns, and there on the sidewalk is a gray woman in a bathrobe, faded coffee stains and food crusts all down her front. She is pointing at him, her face wide, frozen in a rictus grin of fear.

"What?" he asks, reality crashing into place with a shatter of glass ripping through his ears.

Her mouth moves, but the sounds that come out are backwards and insulting, and her eyes are fish eyes, wide and lidless and staring.

"What?" he asks again, sharply, his voice ugly and tasting of ashes.

"M-mon—" the woman wheezes.

Her throat is in his hands, and he doesn't recall moving from his empty driveway.

"What are you staring at? What do you want?!" he screams.

She gags and gurgles, her tubes for eating breathing talking standing bleeding; all of it collapsing under his fingers—

which hadn't been so thin a few weeks ago

—and the grin on his face is a mile wide. 

"Monster!" she whimpers as something cracks in her neck.

Monster? His hands loosen, cradle her jaw, as his mind tries to grapple with this. Why… Why would anyone call him that?

The pounding of feet, and someone wrenches the woman out of his grasp. "Jesus jump-roping Christ, Johnny!"

Dazed, he stares at the newcomer as if he's looking at everything through the wrong end of a telescope. The reek and the roaring of the public transit system returns with a bang of pneumatic doors, and Squee's mouth moves in angry shapes but the slut-mother's cooing comes out instead.

=

"You gonna pay or get off my bus?"

He looks at the bus driver, at the thick rolls of fat ballooning out underneath his sweaty, undersized uniform, a sneer pulling back the heavy flesh around pearly white teeth. He imagines jamming the steering wheel through the man's dislocated jaw and feels slightly better.

It's safe to imagine such atrocities. Imagine, but nothing more. He has to remember that.

"Hey kid! I'm talkin' to you!"

"Sorry," he manages through grinding teeth and a throat hot and restricted with anger. He deposits the required fare into the automated tray and darts across the yellow line before he can act upon his ideas.

He always has ideas.

He stumbles into an open seat as the bus jerks forward with a belch of black exhaust he can't see but can taste, heavy and gritty on his tongue. On his right, a plastic mommy bounces her little dolly on her knees. They are dressed in matching summer dresses. Disgusting.

How long has it been summer anyway?

He glances at the pair again and thumbs the volume on his CD player a little higher, fighting to keep his face neutral. He has never been fond of parents who treat their offspring like objects rather than the people they are going to be.

Something tugs on his sleeve and he recoils, crashing into the metal bars on his left. It takes everything he has not to retaliate against the foreign touch. His headphones are knocked askew by the impact, and Mozart's power vanishes, becomes tiny vibrations around his neck.

The baby, the child, the dull-eyed little girl has the ragged end of his sleeve in its shining, soaking wet hand. Through the fabric, he can feel its dampness, its heat. It babbles at him incoherently, green ooze dripping from its squashed little nose into the gaping, grinning mouth below.

"Oh, she likes you!" The mother cries, swooping in for the kill. Her smell washes over him—of heady perfume, hairspray, hysteria. He can see the makeup creases, the scars of plastic surgery, the shadow of a bruise on her shoulder half-hidden by her yellow sleeve. His mind jumps to all sorts of conclusions, and each one of them sickens him more than the last.

"Uh," he manages.

His hands twitch.

=

He is sick of this life again. All the old signs are there, everything points to one fact, but he can't bear going down that path, not yet. Later, later.

"'Later,' he says!" Crows the delighted Burger Boy. "Yes, perhaps when the scabs from the old shackles grow over the new he'll get off his scrawny ass and attempt to do something about all this!"

"Fuck you."

The Burger Boy looks at him imploringly, its meaty little hands clasped, its fangs retracted, the perfect image of a concerned friend in hideous checkered overalls. "In all seriousness, Johnny-boy, this is not something you can put off any longer. You must act now, or not at all."

"Go die in a hole."

"We both remember how effective that was the last time you tried that. Now, please—"

"Don't make me get the sledgehammer."

At least it had the decency to flinch at that, the little fuck.

The Burger Boy sighs, obviously frustrated. "I don't understand why you find it necessary to fight me so, Nny."

"Maybe it's because, oh, I don't know, you're trying to enslave me to my own kidneys?" He bites on the straw of his cherry Freezy hard enough to tear it. The plastic tastes like artificial fruit and latex gloves. "And don't call me Nny."

The Burger rolled its eyes, which shouldn't have been possible because it was pretending it was still ceramic. "So I'm no longer allowed that special little privilege, am I? Only the ghost of your dead, levitating bunny rabbit is?"

"Leave Nailbunny out of this."

"And those pathetic Doughboys as well? The very ones that conspired against you to 'serve their master', who, in case you've since forgotten, was the very creature you were charged with imprisoning behind a wall of blood and plaster?"

"That was D-Boy. Eff just wanted freedom. And really, can I blame him?" He bites the straw in half and spits it into the bathroom sink. In the mirror, his reflections mimic him, ten thousand mouths a-grinning.

"You're missing the point, though I'm hardly surprised."

A thought strikes him, and it's out of his mouth before he can think twice about it. "You know, if they ever started talking again, I think I'd still let them call me Nny. Sure, they were both exploiting my ever-increasing insanity and all that, but they were mine in the beginning. Unlike you."

It ignored the jab. "If they ever start talking again, it will be far too late."

=

There wasn't any soap in the bathroom.

=

"What the hell were you thinking?"

He blinks. "What?"

"Give me one goddamn reason, one very good goddamn reason you had for strangling my mother, or so fucking help me Johnny—!"

Squee is definitely reminding him of himself now. Great. Fantastic. Fuck.

"Um."

=

The Burger Boy scowls, its face transmogrifying into the fanged, drooling thing it really is. "You remember how terrible it was to toil under the merciless whip of the System! I know you do because I am a part of you, though you refuse to believe as such! And though you hate what I have to offer, you must realize that I am far more preferable as I am now than what I could become unless you tear free of the System's grip now!"

"I AM FREE!"

With a snap of ceramic he breaks it's right arm off, and the two of them scream in pain and hate, in the same voice, in one voice.

"I." He jabs at his chest with the arm, feeling it squirm under his fingers.

"Am." He drops it to the bloodstained linoleum.

"Free." He grinds the arm to dust under the heel of his boot. His reflections are too blurred, too scattered, to see how many follow suit.

Gripping the hole where a limb had been seconds ago, its ugly face twisted further by agony, the Burger Boy pants, "There is no such thing as freedom! No!" It screams, harsh and violent, as he opens his mouth to retort, "Listen to me. Hear me out. Please."

A heartbeat passes. Five. He closes his eyes, suddenly exhausted, and nods. The figurine sighs and leans against the faucet, settling its insect eyes on the spilled Freezy in the tub.

"Let's get one thing straight. I don't want you thinking that the puppet masters are singling you out for sport. God knows you aren't anything special. Everyone is a slave to one thing or another." It pauses to laugh bleakly. "Perhaps even those who fancy themselves the masters of this game of Monopoly must bow their neck to the chopping block one day. Who am I to know? I am but a series of chemical reactions created in the misfiring neurons of a sick man's brain. But never mind that. What I'm trying to say here is that there has been no other way. Ever. There has been no freedom, no choice. It is all preordained. This is the way of all things."

Every part of him rebels against this. No free will? Impossible. His life is his own, now more than ever. Yes, he had been a slave, once. But that had just been the luck of the draw, an accident, like winning the lottery or getting hit by a truck. It was… unpredictable, impossible to preordain. Heat in his chest, his jaw tight and creaking. "They told me—" He begins, his voice ready to rise into a shriek.

"It was only temporary. Even stone must crumble, Johnny."

His legs turn to jelly at a terrible, terrifying thought. He grips the sink, licks his lips and tastes salt and cherries and fear. In a soft, weak voice he barely recognizes as his own he finally asks, "Are they going to make me a flusher again?"

"They already have."

=

"Mom, can you make it back to the house on your own?" As he speaks, Squee performs a quick once-over on the gasping woman clinging like a burr to his chest. His face betrays him, showing the extent of the damage done even as he keeps his voice upbeat, a stream of happy reassurances pouring out with the rain even as his eyes confirm a far more dire prognosis. "Johnny and I need to, um, talk."

"Who—" Her voice fractures in her collapsed throat, and she chokes and dry heaves until her face is purple with strain. 

Squee holds her until she calms. "Johnny's our neighbor, Mom. We've lived next to him since—for as long as I can remember."

"O-oh. He looks ni-ice. I-is he a friend o-of yours?"

Squee makes a face remarkably comparable to the one a particularly vehement guest made once after Johnny had made him swallow a pound of nails. "Just—go inside, Mom. Go see if Dad's awake, okay? See if he'll call 911 for you."

"Okay sweetie." Her voice is wet and crackling, like stiff paper going soft beneath a steady drip of water. He recognizes the sound, and suspects now that he may have squeezed too hard. But she had insulted him, hadn't she? Called him a fucking monster. How could he let that go without proper retaliation?

"And tell Dad I'll be in in a min—oh festering whore tits, your eyes are bleeding."

"Don't swear, honey." 

"Sorry. Johnny?"

He can't help but flinch. "Yes?"

Squee swallows, looking almost frightened before setting his jaw and glaring hard at him. "You are going to go in your house, sit your ass down on your couch, and you are going to stay the fu—stay there until I can get Dad to give me the keys so I can get Mom to the ER. See, betcha I gotta do it 'cause Dad is an incompetent, loveless douche with a heart of coal. But I'm gonna do it fast, 'cause you and I? We need to talk."

"I—" 

Squee got him off with a sharp gesture. "Uh-uh. Not today. Not gonna play that game. Get in your house."

He got in his house.

=

"Slavery is inherent in all things, Johnny. It is only a question of to what. Once before you were selected to be a Flusher—"

"And I failed. Miserably, I might add."

The Burger Boy shook its head firmly. "You excelled."

"Clearly we're remembering my experiences in the After Life differently."

"Clearly you forget what kind of monster was imprisoned behind that wall."

"I never saw it. I died before I had the chance."

"It doesn't matter whether you saw it or not! What you had to do to keep it locked up should tell you more than enough."

"I—"

"I think somebody with a say in things liked what you were doing down here. Otherwise, why else tether you to this particular yoke a second time? If your memories of what Satan said to you are correct, you are practically the very antithesis of Flusher material!" It hobbles towards him, it's ungainly waddle exacerbated by its missing arm. Drool spills freely from between jutting fangs that cut at its lips with every overeager exclamation. "Take a good look at me, boy. The very moment the System slapped the manacles back on your wrists it began to take me as well. These changes are the result of your inaction."

His reflections smile bitterly. "You claim to be mine one minute and admit you're not the next. One or the other; it can't be both."

It stares at him with a steady, curious expression. "Can't it? The System is trying to take me from you. That is one truth. Another is that I am fighting it as best I can. Just as your Doughboys did, not so long ago."

He sneers and says nothing.

"I am resisting," the Burger Boy continues, "but I cannot win. The changes done to this form you've assigned me are the result of every foot of ground lost. You must see how much faster the transformation is in me compared to the Doughboys! You must understand that you are no longer a mere Flusher! For the Wall Monster remembers how effective it was to use your own madness against you, and now an eye is upon you, Johnny! The merciless, unflinching eye of the System in its entirety, and the System is more powerful than either of us can possibly comprehend."

He locks his fingers around the lip of the sink to keep from shaking. Slowly, the words trickle out of his mouth, pooling in a pile of warm paranoia in the drain. "Everything you say only goes to prove how much they have already conquered you, taken you from me and twisted you into some… thing. Some monster braying about hope even as it settles its jaws around my neck." 

He drops his gaze from the figurine, from the mirror, afraid of the triumph he knows he will find there. "I can't trust you."

The Burger Boy positively beams. "Now you're catching on."

=

"Nailbunny, what should I do?"

resist

"Who? Who do I fight? Him? The System?"

resist

"Whether I like it or not, he's my only source of information. Even if he's manipulating me, he at least has the decency to forewarn me, unlike his predecessors. If push comes to shove, I think I could beat him. But what—what if he's telling the truth? What if he can help me?"

resist

resist

"Nailbunny?"

resist

resist

resist

resist

resist

re—

=

"Please! Oh god, this hurts so much! Stop!"

"Shut up. The machine's barely even warmed up."

The sobbing blob tied to one of many torture devices he keeps humming at the ready cringes as his hand floats above the dial. He allows himself a brief smile.

"W-what do you want? Jesus Christ, I just m-met you! What did I even do?!"

He opens his mouth, a speech rife with injustice suffered under the merciless hands of a society dead from the neck up on the tip of his tongue, only to find himself unable to remember who this woman is and why he has her strapped into the Needler.

He laughs, and turns the dial up anyway.

=

—sist

=

The baby, the child, the dull-eyed little girl releases its iron grip on his sleeve and forgets him instantly, yet the mother perseveres, eager to speak with another human being. It seems he has no choice but to participate in a conversation with this woman until his stop, as every other seat is taken. And besides, it would be rude to just stand up and walk away.

You could kill her.

He frowns and ignores the voice, but nevertheless finds it unsettling. Meat's all for living and talking and eating and fucking and being an actual human, not murder. This is very out of character. Still pondering over it, he glances at the woman and finds her staring at him, expecting something from him.

"What?" he asks, itching to put his headphones on again. He really likes the piece vibrating against his collarbone. 

"Where did you buy your shirt?" the woman asks, as if she's repeating herself. She probably is.

He peels his eyes away from her surgically swollen lips long enough to glance down at himself. Black and gray, with an obnoxious splash of color amid the stripes that makes his head hurt. He doesn't recognize it.

"I, uh, don't remember," he says.

"Oh, that's too bad! My little brother loves that show."

He nods mutely, allowing his thumb to play with the volume of his CD player. The woman keeps talking, and Carl Orff rages at fate in a whispered rise and fall of Latin and violins.

The girl touches his hand again, and he accepts without protest that he will kill these two in their matching summer dresses with an eager blare of trumpets.

=

"Slavery to a broken machine or slavery to life and all its pains and pleasures." Meat touches his arm with its remaining hand. Through his sleeve, he can feel its dampness, its heat. "Decision time is now or never, Nny."

He laughs. "I am a broken machine."

=

Sometimes other people appear in the mirrors. Just brief flashes, overlapping the current other-self dominating the rest, and he knows it's foolish, but he can't help but wonder.

What is it like to have friends?

=

"—and it's being called the worst crime in the tri-county area since the café massacre two years ago. With twenty-seven dead at the scene and another twelve in critical condition, we here at the Channel 4 News Network can't help but agree. What do you think of it, Jeff?"

"It's a real atrocity, Nadine. The man who did this must be a real psycho, a total monster."

"Oh yes. And speaking of the killer, a woman—who has asked to remain anonymous—has stepped forward, claiming to have been at the club when the murders were committed. She also claims to be the one who halted the massacre by shooting the killer three times, despite having already been wounded."

"It is true a thus-far unidentified blood sample was recovered from the scene, as well as the bullets matching the woman's gun, but nothing conclusive has been determined yet. However, the woman has agreed to meet with a sketch artist once she's recovered from the attack, and a drawing of the killer will be sent to all media coverages when available."

"In the meantime, if anyone has any information regarding the killer or his whereabouts, we would appreciate it if you would call the number at the bottom of the screen. Please, don't hesitate—"

The reporter's face freezes for an instant before exploding in a supernova of white noise. Jolted out of a daydream, he instinctively reaches for the remote to mute the atrocious sound, but pauses before letting his hand fall. 

The sound is… oddly pleasant.

He leaves it on for three days.

=

He decides to call it Reverend Meat. It just… seems to fit.

=

He pauses at the couch only briefly, wondering what happened outside and what kind of reaction he should be having, but his legs give out and once he hits the floor it doesn't seem to matter anymore. Something skitters away, startled by the sound and vibrations of his body striking the wood. A minute passes or maybe five before it skitters back, probing his fingers with inquisitive antennae. His nerves won't respond to the signals his brain sends, to flinch away or crush the insect before it has a chance to grow bolder. He panics briefly, fear and helplessness clawing their way through his chest cavity, but then, as if a switch is flipped inside him, he relaxes.

The insect, whatever it is, takes a cautious nibble at the calloused tip of his ring finger. There is a tiny flash of pain, but no instinctive recoil from the source of the hurt. He is truly unable to move, than. The insect continues to bite, finding the outer layers of his skin tasty enough to merit further excavation. A second insect, crawling out of some unseen hole beyond his limited vision, joins the first, and is quickly followed by a third, a fourth, a dozen, too many to differentiate by feel alone and before he knows it an entire colony of carnivorous insects are biting into him, eating his flesh, burrowing under his clothes, his skin, crawling in his mouth and into his soft, wet insides, and he can't do anything to stop it.

It hurts, God it hurts, and he thinks wildly to himself that if he manages to live through this he will never ever strap a jar of bugs between another guest's teeth, ever again, because this is beyond torture, beyond ironic justice, beyond what words can describe: it just fucking hurts.

But then they reach his spinal cord and, like a city-wide power outage, his pain receptors begin to shut down, and then it's only the sounds of thousands of tiny mouths chewing. Until the insects turn their attention to his face, at least, being eaten alive isn't quite as bad as movies would lead him to believe. It's certainly slower, for one thing, and it lacks the nerve-wracking horror soundtrack, but perhaps that's for the better. The sounds he does hear are far from pleasant: squishing and crunching and gnawing and if he still had a stomach it'd probably be heaving by this point. He can see nothing but the dusty edge of darkness beneath his couch, but it's easy to imagine how gruesome he must look.

He's seen the results of this kind of thing with his own eyes, after all.

By the time they reach his head, they have already chewed through something vital in his chest and nowhere can he feel anything, any ache any pain any sadness any anger any loneliness and God is that an improvement. Consciousness fades to a dull spark somewhere in his increasingly exposed ribcage, perhaps somewhere just behind his collarbone, and he is hollowed out as rapidly as a properly upgraded power tool can scoop the mush out of a pumpkin. He is home to a colony of army ants, or a vast nest of ravenous, newborn spiders. That buzzing he hears could be the many vibrating wings of mating flies, or the first comb of a beehive being constructed among his bones. Certainly this is some species of insect that won't hesitate to swarm over a piece of meat—however stringy—before it has a chance to defend itself. Maybe it's even a school of land-bound piranha. He can imagine all sorts of culprits and has little trouble believing in all of them.

He wonders if honey from a human hive would be any good, but immediately discards the idea, revolted. He's practically thinking cannibalism here! Or, rather, self-cannibalism. Can a person self-cannibalize when they no longer have a digestive system? He'll have to try that sometime.

He wonders.

"Johnny?"

He blinks with magically undevoured eyelids, and is whole.

=

Sometimes, if he focuses hard enough, long enough, on these days when others flicker by in the mirrors, sometimes these flickers steady, become memorable faces, re-memorable people. And if memory serves, most of these people are dead.

The implications leave him with aching knuckles.

=

"I am not a monster."

"You just keep telling yourself that. Hey, maybe if you wish hard enough it might even come true one day!" Meat cackles and kicks his toothbrush into the toilet bowl.

"I wasn't always like this. I haven't always lived here. I haven't always been alone."

"How can you be so sure?”

Frustrated. Does he really have to state the obvious?

"No one is born knowing how to speak or read or write, or how to drive a car, or how to use money. Inherent knowledge is limited in humans. I may no longer have the memories of being taught, but the result is still the same. I know how to mix paints because I probably took classes in high school. I know how to use a camera, order dinner at a restaurant, do my own laundry, because someone else was there to teach me. Fuck, someone hated me enough to give me you."

"Who?"

"What?"

"Who gave me to you?" Meat's smile tries to appear kind, yet it is condescending, as if it is speaking to a child. "It's a simple enough question, dear boy."

"I—you said it was a girl—that we—" He swears. "You know I don't remember."

"Who gave you an understanding of the English language? Where is the license that proves you once passed a test at the DMV?"

"I—"

"Can you prove that you did not simply read the directions in some art books, or on the camera's packaging, or in a Laundromat? Perhaps, on the same strange whim that made you steal some Styrofoam Pillsbury Doughboy figurines, you came across my body yourself?"

"You said—"

"I thought you didn't trust me."

His knuckles burn white.

"Well, Johnny?"

"You know I can't prove any of that."

Meat's eyes glitter with delight. "Then, dear Johnny, how can you be so sure?"

=

At the edge of a stage bright with colored lights, he curls his hands around a microphone and smiles. The audience—

so many eyes watching him, and yet he couldn't be more relaxed

—has hushed; yet their screams still ring in his ears. 

He is not alone on this stage.

He doesn't dare turn to see who is playing softly behind him, afraid it'll be people the mirrors have shown him that are alive in some other Johnny's life but dead dead dead in his. His heart pounds, and for once the ache in his throat feels good. This is all so wonderfully terrifying, sickeningly familiar. Has he dreamed this before?

He comes to a stop inches from the audience's reaching hands. Good God, he has them right in the palm of his hand.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he breathes into the microphone, and every spark of life in this vast room is shining its light on him, and it is all so beautiful, so perfect, so alien. 

"What we have here is a moral conundrum."

=

"Bunny, I'm worried."

"I'm glad I'm not the only one. But really, there's so much to worry about. Please, elaborate for me."

"I haven't gone anywhere I might run the chance of killing someone in months. Just drive-thrus and that fully automated shopping center. Until recently, the only other people I've interacted with haven't bothered me or have been out of reach. It's only been these past couple weeks I've attempted anything more. Walking in parks, public transportation. You know."

"I know."

"What I can't figure out is how I ended up in that club at all."

The television is on, too low to be heard. In its pale blue glow, he carefully touches his chest, wincing when his fingers press against three tender circles: one on his sternum, another between his sixth and seventh ribs, and the last just beneath his ribcage. Tiny puckered scars ache in the center of each purple bruise.

"If I remember correctly, you recognized something who went inside and followed after."

"Why would—that doesn't sound like something I'd do."

"You stalked Devi for nearly a year."

He scowls. "Unnecessary, Bunny."

"Is it?"

He thumps his boots onto the coffee table and says nothing. Bunny presses on.

"It was a woman. Short hair, glasses, surprisingly compassionate to your… cause."

"Wait, do you mean that one woman with that shitty boyfriend I Tazered once? When I saw that movie—"

"Yes."

"Wow, really? I figured the Wall Monster got her after reality collapsed." He taps his chin thoughtfully. "What was her name? Did it start with a… a T?"

"Tess."

"Yeah!" He pauses. "She… recognized me first."

"Uh-huh."

"She practically ran into the building. They didn't even card her. She must have been a regular."

"Or she worked there."

"Or she worked there," he agrees. "That anyone could recognize me—" he trails off. A beat passes, and he continues on a different vein. "But what set me off? What caused me to break again, after I'd been doing so well?"

"That shouldn't be your chief concern, Johnny."

He looks at the disembodied rabbit head, little more than a skull now, and tiny and fragile-looking without it's maggot-riddled skin. "Oh?"

"You should be asking why you were sent back again."

=

Those other people in the mirror, those strangers, those friends, those dead bodies in motion, would sometimes pause beside his reflection. They smile, laugh; get mad and fight back and actually live; attack and be attacked; get scared and fight back and die. Some of it looks fun, some of it looks ridiculous. A lot of it scares him, more than he'd like to admit.

He wishes one of them would notice him.

His fingers touch glass.

[jamies-overalls]

An idea for your lost again fic... Kelly finding out that Alex quit her job. I would’ve loved to see that conversation happen on the show

I totally forgot that I had a oneshot for that mostly written already and never posted it… whoops. Thank you for reminding me! I hope I do that conversation justice.

It was late when Alex stumbled into her apartment. After they’d said goodbye to Winn, there was still quite a bit of work to be done. She changed out of her uniform and into some sweats, then drafted her resignation letter immediately. It could wait till tomorrow to be sent out, but she needed to write it, needed to set in stone the decision she’d made. It wasn’t an easy one, not by any means. 

On her original world, and in this new one, the DEO had been a second home. It had been a place that had rescued her when she’d been at her lowest and given her a position of leadership some years later. It had allowed her to be a scientist, an field agent, everything she’d ever wanted. But when this new universe was born and she’d gotten her memories of the old universe, she realized that her home hadn’t been the DEO at all, it had been working with J’onn, a mad who was like a father to her. And, though she wished she could, she knew she couldn’t fight Lex from the inside. Her only option now was to leave. 

Once she was ready, she shoved her uniform into her duffel bag. She didn’t really want to keep it, but perhaps she could make some alterations to it, improve it somehow… make it not remind her of the DEO. Alex packed up her things and headed home. It felt strange, but she felt confident. She kept her head high. 

Alex was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t expect Kelly to be curled up on the couch waiting for her. It had become a habit between them. When Alex had work that kept her late, Kelly would come over and just be there waiting for her. Most of the time, Kelly would already be asleep when Alex got back, but there was a certain amount of comfort for Alex that she got to come home to someone. This time, though, Kelly was awake and reading a book. She looked up when Alex came in. 

“Hey, you’re home– Woah, hey, are you okay?” She asked gently, seeing how tired Alex was. She could practically sense Alex’s mind going a mile a minute. 

“Kelly? What are you still doing awake?” Alex glanced at the clock. “It’s late, you should be sleping by now, you’ve got work tomorrow.”

“I know, but… Something felt off. I had a feeling you might have had a rough day. And the DEO going on lockdown was on the news, so I started to worry…”

Alex left her bag on the floor and sat down on the couch, opting to curl up and put her head in Kelly’s lap. It was something she did rarely, and was clearly an indication that she needed comfort of some kind. 

“Winn’s back in the future. The other Winn almost killed us. Brainy… betrayed us, which I’m still wrapping my head around.” Alex sighed softly. “And I… am leaving the DEO.” 

Kelly’s hand, which had been gently playing with Alex’s hair, stopped. She looked at her girlfriend, wondering if she’d heard her correctly. “You’re… leaving the DEO? I knew you were unhappy working with Lex, but I thought you’d chosen to stay regardless?”

“With everything that happened today… I don’t think I have a choice.” Alex said softly. “I can still work with J’onn, and fight that way.”

“I’m proud of you, you know that?” Kelly said gently, which caused Alex to look up at her in suprise. 

“You’re proud of me?” 

“I know you didn’t take a decision like this lightly. And I know how much it bothered you when you found out who Lex really was. And even though it’s not an easy choice that you made, you did the right thing. You are so strong, Alex.” 

Alex sat up and pressed the gentlest of kisses to Kelly’s cheek. “Thank you. I think I needed to hear that.” 

“You’re welcome.” Kelly smiled softly. “Are you okay? I know that’s a loaded question, but…”

“I think so. But I think I need to sleep first, before I give you a solid answer.”

“Why don’t we go to bed, then? It’ll be a little more comfortable.” 

Alex nodded and sat up, then followed her girlfriend to bed. The two of them hadn’t even been together for a year, but she already felt like her favorite thing was to come home to Kelly, to get to relax with her at the end of a long day. She’d be okay. It was just going to take some time.

[winter-chill]

RWBY 7 - 3 “Ace Operatives” Thoughts

So thoughts...

BOO!!! they didn't work on stuff themselves.. although if it was Pietro and not just random scientists, I'll let it go :) And i'l give him props for using the Amity fights footage (i'll talk more on weapons later)

Oh, dust mines, launch site... ghiest, oh that's gonna bring back some memories

God Nora being so giddy about her stuff puts a smile on my face

and the Blake/Yang nod, the first of so many bumbleby touches this ep

They're really trying to hit hard again with Jaune and that sash, though it was a good set up for his hair cut (since I wouldn't really think of cutting it now when he's in a cold climate ideal)

Another very slight, but nice detail about having Yang be actually armless, not just fixing it while it's on her. We need more points like this, or maybe i just like the idea of it, but having those details shown off and not forgotten is nice. Also that's a beefy arm, though I swear it looks larger in the intro?

Again, having Blake have an onscreen notice of her hair leads well into why it's cut (though not showing it on screen? nor how/why her weapon's fix being gold... missed opportunity , truly)

WAIT??? Ruby got a NEW cloak? BOO, I would have thought her current one was still the original, has she been swapping it with each outfit? but, all the cuts and tears, the detail and history from her past fights, lost :(

I'll talk about the Oscar scene when it shows up, not here

Again, lovely intro to their new looks, but... could have been more. Showing them actually zip things up, buckle them in, cutting their hair themselves. Just lots of little details that would have added so much

I'll say it again, I think Yang's new glasses look weird.. too anime for the actual show style, but, I guess they 'work' ?

Also they all look to Ruby, this is her mission, her shot to call, she's back with her team (just rwby) for the first time so it's good to see them keeping the team dynamic, she was leader for a reason.

OH THIS SONG IS A BANGER!!!! also, totally a Weiss song (it said mirror)

Bunny hopping Ruby :D adorable

SUMMON SWORD SURFING!!! Finally

Blake really making the use of that ribbon, a little detail they again seem to forget about during most of 4-6 until it's necessary (running from adam in V6)

And... yep, no nonsense Yang sticking with the classics, recoil  (( I take it back, Yang's arm is the same as the intro, though I still think it somehow got bigger than when she put it on ))

And end it all on an amazing pose shot

Okay Ace ops time. Harriet, let me see what that little backpack thing do. But for serious, rolling only stops you from getting hurt on small drops, not several hundred foot... Marrow though taking a similar root to Ruby, seeming to ride it down, but he's doing some troll physics there, "stand on chair, jump off building, jump off chair at last moment, you only actually fell 2 foot"

Also, boomerang, gun? Honestly I kind of dislike the generic gun looking form, would have been cooler if it didn't change, but just had a little barrel pop out an end when he needed to shoot.

And now JN- OMG ELM YES, Loving the attitude. Oh Vine what's that on your back? you wielding an expanding throwing star (three pronged)

erm, right... JN_R

so, we got, some sick new looks, Ren's ponytail especially. Jaune's hair (i was one to hate it at first) in motion looks great, the concept art didn't do it justice. Also holding his sword on his arm..... kind of reminds me of @kumafromtaiwan's design for Jaune

"okay Jaune, you got this, it's not gonna be like Beacon all over again"

Oh, is he gonna use his shield like a plow, smashing through rocks, or maybe as a wing and glide do............................

DID JAUNE JUST FORTNITE PARACHUTE SHIELD HIS ASS TO THE GROUND?

Moving on though, yep, Hard light dust was a genius move he would have stuck in his head from Argus, and opens up the question of adding (what i'm dubbing) Shield Shield, with his V4 Nuckelavee Sword Sword, to make hard light blades.... SWORD SWORD SWORD???

a quick little peak at his shield, the emblem lighting up as he shoots a blast to bounce him from hitting the floor, that better be used later too.

And another amazing pose shot!

Oh Elm, you really need to work on your social skills. Actually maybe all the Ace ops do?

POUTY NORA!!!

and, good luck bad luck duo for the final team, this'll be fun.

NEW SCROLLS! Love them, slim and cool, and with new team icons (c'mon girls, smile for your picture)

and that detail on how Ruby zoomed, Weiss had to summon, and Yang had some energy stored up, so their aura is down a bit, but Blake is 100%

THE EARS, THEY SENSE BEES

Oh Yang, adorable goof

Oh Blake, also an dorable goof!!!

And Marrow is indeed the baby of the squad, you said it well Harriet, if a tad harsh?

Weiss no, this is a bad place for your name, but you're here to make it a better one, to fix that remember!!

Has.. has no one taught Ruby to project her aura to keep her warm, or at the others just dealing with it better? Either way, same Ruby, i hate the cold

Okay, yes, Oscar chat time

I don't know what to say, I agreed with it the whole time. Atlas is in a mess, there are good and bad times to tell people, and it's nice that Ruby has her intentions, but this may have been the same path Ozma first took, hiding things "for now" but never finding a chance to tell the truth later... they just need to keep it in mind.

And Oscar, please look after the Relic, I can already see red flags over your head the moment you took it, be that from Ironwood doing shady shit, Watts/Tyrian stealing it, or Ozpin popping back up to use it's last question.

OH, Clover, hitting a man hard with that, bringing up STRQ :/ all those fanfics of Qrow ('s semblance) being behind Summer's death, they all feel more realistic

I almost forgot, Qrow's looking snazzy too, those cross buttons, the eye/feather emblem embroidery in the sleeves. No... no necklace though?

Oh god Qrow's getting shipped with everyone this volume it seems. Good catch Clover.... I MEAN LITERAL CATCH

Halfick? Halphr... what did he say? Don't bullshit me captions, that wasn't alpha

REN!!! PAY YOUR GIRLFRIEND SOME ATTENTION!!!!!!!!!!!! Jaune you dork, nice try?

Another great Bee moment, Yang too can sense a disturbance in the force.

Weiss this is great, but can you keep your emotional daddy issues and the racial discrimination of a whole people a little more separate. But it's nice to again see you trying to make some amends and distance yourself from being.. well, 'Jacques' and his actions

OOF, Marrow coming in, hitting hard, and then acting like he's.... a millennial "I'm just a teen who does research, what do I know, boomer"

this scene though. Issues and history of faunus oppression, followed by a Schnee apolagy, and a faunus using her traits to help fix the past for a new future... that's some symbolism

Oh, a jump scare, good thing about Blake's semblance there too

HARRIET YES!!!! BIG FISTS, JUST WHAT I WANTED!!! PUNCH THAT ROCK

And RW_Y right behind already running before the rumbles settled to help their girl

I LOVE THE GRIMM IN ATLAS. don't get me wrong, Deathstalkers are still top tier, but these things are awesome too

and now we get to upgrades!

Nice, so Yang has some trigger-able explosives, so she doesn't have to rely on her semblance to protect her when she's using his shotgun blasts

A subtle little thing there, Weiss being able to shoot an icle, not doing so from a glyph, but from the gun part of

Myrtenaster directly

Okay yes, this bugged me for so long. A scythe is a big weapon, the weight is in the blade as much as it is the handle, so having to turn it around all the time would be unwieldy and difficult in combat, so just a tiny upgrade like this is both smart, and amazing for Ruby to have realised she needed

Although I still don't get how shotting a bullet down the barrel, can give her swings an initial boost of speed........

Marrow really out here flying though the sky like he's on a zipline? though the buzz saw boomerang is, again, brilliant

Oh................ So the boy who cried wolf, can pause time? I erm- actually hold on, I need to figure out how that's logical......

I'm just gonna guess it's more "Harriet is moving so fast, he did this for dramatic affect XD

JN_R once again, taking a moment, a little nervous but willing and--- now they're very much not nervous, doing their thing, never first to run in, but never first to run away either.

Also, Vine has a stetchy arm semblance, and Elm has rooting feet semblance. Ye they make a good team (i ship them)

THERE'S THAT PURPLE SHIELD BLAST

And finally StormFlower is getting some love. I don't think they look different, but having those blades be used in more various ways... grapples were a great idea

and again, Nora using that spiked back of Magnahild for more than a place to stand when she launches herself, loving it!!!

Oh Jaune, being nervous dorky, Nora a little ashamed? or ready to be.. and Ren, quiet as ever (i think he's kind of looking up to Vine honestly) don't worry though, you kids did good

OH Harriet... you don't wanna be left out of the action do you :) RUBY YOU DORK! And that little back+forth was actually hilarious

Hmm, I was always wondering how a fishing rod could be a weapon.. i guess pulling a grimm in works, but what was your plan then, to punch the Ghiest?

OH MY GOD THAT ANIMATION!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

again, what are you doing Clover? At least Qrow knows his semblance, acting all "i'm gonna look around, things could easily go wrong here"

Good luck bad luck eh? OH MY GOD Qrow don't make that face, the people are gonna ship you two even harder now!!!

And the hammer duo charging in first... ye Elm/Vine is just Atlas' Renora, and I love that dynamic

oh, weird dust draft from Ren stopping, sweat boiling on the rocks... this room is gonna be interesting, mess things up a bit? fluxuating gravity, hot and cold spots maybe??? Ah yes, dust energy... makes sense

And Marrow in the background while we hear him on the coms, just a great little look at how Vine seems to be "distant" from the moment, doing the whole, Ren style of vague-speak

Ye it is kinda empt-- oh. Also good work having not just the face move, but the whole midsection being rotated... kind of as if, the face is stuck to that one position... COINCIDENCE?

Erm, does this one seem bigger than the V4 Ghiest?

And now we see Ruby trying to act as leader, pause to think, to come up with a plan, where as the Ace (while more experienced) seem to have both a plan on how to take it out, and might also be a little to reliant on Clover, knowing his semblance will fix any little issues

Oh that trumpet, a very self-knowing victorious tune.

And again, Vine and Elm doing a whole of semblance work, shame we don't see them use their weapons a bit more here, same with Marrow though not using his semblance (whatever it is) at all.

HEY WAIT. those black parts weren't there earlier, nor did they appear on the V4 Grimm until it needed them to pull toge- oh... they stretched the limbs to force both a space to cut them, and for the grimm parts to sort of 'be revealed'

And another eye colour semblance indication. Loving the runners pose Harriet does too. She's not time-pausing fast... (I take back what I said about Marrow's semblance earlier?) but things do act slower, even while she's running quicker than we'd see as normal in that moment. It's not time-pausing, but it's very very fast. And the motion blur trail!!, just a tiny effect, but it adds so much detail

Marrow really is the child of the squad, he's the one to make a mistake, but again- kind of had to rely on Clover there.. Interesting to see how things pan out when he's inevitably killed, or trapped, or just isn't there

Little details here and there. Vine using his semblance not just to grab, but to push the grimm back. Harriet taunting it to get it's attention and then getting out before it can hit her (but late enough that it keeps it's attention on her and really slams it's fist down). Elm again sticking to her name, rooting that fist down, being basically an anchor in all her actions. And Marrow... throwing his boomerang

UGH.. that little medallion touch pisses me off somehow, it's so pretentious? but anyway, he had a good idea, pulling it out by it's mask, kinda really relying on his semblance to get between it and the ice chunk without bouncing off anything. Again, very semblance reliant group

Erm... she punched the grimm.. but i wouldn't say it's dead.. are we gonna ignore that??? IT'S GONNA RETURN LATER I CAN PROMISE YOU THAT

Vine again grabbing dust, would have loved to have seen Elm basically kick one to stick it to her feet instead of just catching (or pinning herself to a wall to catch it, as if it was too high to jump and catch)

And Harriet going in for the catch, only for....oh.. that's the first thing RWBY or JNR did this fight? (also no weird dust affects, i feel upset)

But ohhh, her semblance isn't speed. I had this same issue in last volume, that her semblance early on was supposed to be speed, and yet she uses it to fly, to separate into several for moments, and she can 'merge' with others to carry then, when like for Nora in V4 her reaction speed should have been way too slow to really be ready for when she was basically thrown at the previous ghiest

AY yep, I'm shocked if Ruby has control over her eyes, she never tried to flash them off during this whole scene... but again, after Maria's story, hiding them from people we don't fully trust is better

And another little bee moment, Yang flirting with them puns

Omg! Elm carrying Ruby, Yang and Nora dancing, love this group dynamic

Hey, it's that guy from last episode, why are we... Robyn?

huh, kinda spooky... flickering lights... Robyn, watts, or...

TYRIAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! why are you not wearing your coat, it's cold remember! but that entrance, reminds me again of that "Cheshire cat inspiration" people first thought of back in his V4 reveal

HIS EYES!!! So whatever he does that triggers them is still apparent, and his stinger either still uses his own venom, or it's semblance related

And that line. He's here to mix things up... either he's finally gonna kill someone and let the police find out (unlike last ep when his victim was in a building, it'll take time till that's discovered... oh wait, blood) or he's here for info maybe?

[ve1vetyoongi]

remember me | kth - 03

chapters: I, II, III, IV, V

pairing: taehyung x reader

rated: mature - contains smut.

genre: idol!au, baker!tae, french!reader, angst, romance, fluff, smut.

summary: Taehyung wants to be forgotten. Overwhelmed by his life as idol persona V, he longs to just be Kim Taehyung for once. Even if that means forgetting everything he ever knew.

word count: 7.1k

warnings:  smut, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, mentions of blood, strong language, memory loss.

a/n: so. it’s finally here..its chapter three. I’m going to be honest with you - this has been finished and sitting in my drafts since January but for some reason I just couldn’t post it. I got so many lovely messages about the last chapter and truthfully I was scared - just in case this one doesn’t live up to expectations! But it’s like 11pm rn and im making the decision to FINALLY put this out...so let me know what you think, I promise I can handle it! hehe.

The nightmares started suddenly. And once they did, Taehyung couldn’t make them stop.

It was becoming increasingly normal for Taehyung to find himself awake in a pile of shivering limbs at ungodly hours of the morning.

For some reason his mind just wouldn't quit it.

Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, brazen images plagued his peaceful slumber. They crept into every corner of his brain with a vigour so overwhelming, Taehyung was sure they were reality - until his beating heart went into overdrive and woke him with a jolt.

The nightmares were nothing like Taehyung had experienced before. This wasn’t your run of the mill blood and gore - in fact he was blind; or more accurately, his eyes were covered - by what he couldn't tell, perhaps a mask - only allowing a dull and dampened light to penetrate its cover.

It wasn't what he could see that filled him with dread  - no, the thing that had him paralyzed, vulnerable and cold was what he could feel.

His body, washed in a fiery heat that numbed his entire being. The air, hot and heavy as he gasped around it, lungs ablaze.

He could hear too - a haunting cacophony of  broken strings and his own screams, barely noticeable if it were not for the way his throat burned fiercely.

In the dreams everything felt a little too bright, a little too loud and so vivid yet when he woke they were jumbled and faded and somehow out of reach. An untouchable movie reel that played on repeat until dawn pressed pause.

That being said, they were becoming more intense, more clear. Slowly, at least. Sometimes, his fingers were able to loosen the knot and part of the blindfold would fall away, revealing cracks of the picture before him - parts of the thing that was haunting him - like another piece of a puzzle falling into its place.

And that was what Taehyung feared more than anything. For now, the blindfold was his protection, a form of sanctuary from whatever pursuit he was running from.

If the blindfold was gone, Taehyung would have to confront his persecutor face to face. And he was terrified of what - or whom - he may find when his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness he knew waited for him.

Taehyung had tried to hide the dreams from you at first. Back when they were just that - dreams. Back when Taehyung could turn over and fall back asleep, replacing the fear with the cushion of peace and comfort slumber once brought him.

Until they were so intense, so powerful, he found himself shaken awake by his own frantic shouts, legs and arms thrashing around in the satin bed sheets that suffocated his dampened skin.

Suddenly, they were a lot harder to conceal.

Naturally, you were concerned. It was driving you crazy, seeing Taehyung in pain yet being helpless to relieve it.

This wasn't the type of  wound inflicted by a knife or a fever and you were out of your depth.

You wanted to know why; or more accurately what - what was turning the man who smiled so easily and lived life with a love so passionate into a child, stricken with fear. What caused him to become so utterly inconsolable?

"I have a book on dreams somewhere," You had encouraged one morning, after a particularly bad night. Nibbling your lip anxiously, you searched through a pile of novels on the floor next to the bed. Perhaps providing the why for Taehyung would help him come to terms with the what, you figured. "It might help you sleep better if you knew what the dreams meant."

And Taehyung wanted to tell you the what. Except he couldn't. Because truthfully, he didn't know himself. And he was more than sure that there was no textbook that could provide him with an adequate explanation.

"Yeah. Maybe." He had responded with levels of enthusiasm lower than he intended to be evident, flashing you a curt smile in an attempt to save your feelings. You were trying to help, he knew that. "I'll give it a read."

Truthfully, besides the knowledge of morning, the only comfort Taehyung could rely on was not something that could be found in a book.

It was you.

When the world was dark and his body trembled, your arms were a tender sunrise as you cradled him in your embrace.

Your fingers stroked his hair with a soothing touch gentler than moonlight and the tears that streaked his cheeks shimmered like a thousand stars.

Your hot breath was sweet as honeycomb while it whispered gentle hushes into his ear, bringing his heart to a steadier pace with your slow lullaby.

And it was then that even though the nightmare still clung to Taehyung, the world didn't seem so dark anymore. You were the sun, bathing him with a warmth and radiance that didn't burn like the fear did.

And for a moment, everything was okay again.

After a while, you found yourself lying awake even before Taehyung inevitably woke you with his strangled cries and sweaty palms. Simply watching as his chest rose and fell gently, exhausted features relaxing as you traced the contours of his face with your thumb. Anticipating the pivotal moment where they would harden and contort with a pain unimaginable to you.

Until another nightmare would take Taehyung away and you would hold him desperately, scared to let go incase he never came back.

Until the sun rose and morning filtered through the curtains and you were sure Taehyung wouldn't slip through your fingers like broken glass.

Until Taehyung was Taehyung again.

Taehyung would be lying if he said that night was like any other; it was worse.

He had already woken up twice that night, plagued by the same demons he had grown to anticipate. Both times you had been by his side, pulling him towards you carefully as you always did, pressing soft kisses to his forehead despite the layer of salty sweat which coated it.

Not long had he fallen asleep again before they were back, except something seemed different - striking a bout of fear in him more intense than ever before if that were even possible.

His body was alight again, hot to his own touch when he grappled with the blindfold which obscured his vision to no success. A voice sounded somewhere behind him - or was it in front of him? - he couldn't tell, but he tried to follow it anyway, stumbling to his feet and outstretching his arms as he blindly navigated the darkness. The voice was bright, almost friendly if his gut instinct wasn't screaming NO! as he approached it.

"Taehyung."

Well, that was new. It knew his name now, huh?

And then, again: "Taehyung."

But this time the voice was different, deeper. Recognisable perhaps, if he just thought hard enough...

His foot hit something and his balance was lost, sending him flying forward. Taehyung's hands came out before him, barely breaking his fall and colliding with the coolness of metal - no, it was glass, he could feel the broken shards cutting his palms, blood surprisingly cold against his boiling skin - and then the voice was back, taunting him this time.

"Taehyung! Taehyung! Taehyung!"

The strings began to play and he must have started to scream because the air was knocked out of his lungs with a colossal force that left him heaving on his hands and knees.

A fragrance so sweet it was sickening filled the air, choking him as a brush of velvet fabric raised the hair on his arms.

The voice was next to his ear this time, lips brushing his lobe.

"Taehyung. I miss you."

Before he knew it, he was running, boots clunking against stone as he tried to outrun the voice that seemed to be everywhere now. Until the ground disappeared, his stance faltering; and he was falling, falling...

Until then, he was awake again.

Taehyung's form shot up, elbows propping his weight as he clutched his chest, face contorting with fierce anxiety.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His breath came out in short, sharp rasps and his throat was tight and raw. He drew his bare legs to his chest, arms curling around them and cradling his own chin between his knees, waiting for your familiar gentle touch to send shivers across his skin.

Except, it didn't. And for what felt like the first time, he opened his eyes.

Morning slipped between the cracks in the blinds, bathing the room in a yellowish glow. The clock on the wall told Taehyung it was already past 10.

A quick glance to his side revealed you, perfect and still as you slept facing where he sat, arms outstretched as though you were reaching for him.

Guilt washed over him. You had barely slept for weeks - and it was all his fault. You were so worried about Taehyung's sleeping habits that you completely forgot to take care of your own; no wonder you were exhausted, he tutted.

And through it all, Taehyung had been too focused on himself to even realise it. He had been too caught up in his own nightmares to notice the blueish bags beneath your eyes or the yawns you hid behind your hair at the bakery.

He couldn't blame you for not being there when he woke up, not really. But that didn't stop him from wishing you were awake to hold him, relieve the anxiety that bubbled hotly under his skin.

Even though thoughts of waking you nagged in the back of his mind, he resisted. Taehyung's thumping heart felt like it suddenly stilled when he looked at you, utterly tranquil. His hands ached to trace the pink rosé of your cheeks, the soft lips which parted for quiet breaths to flutter between them.

He decided he could not bare to disturb you.

"I'm a grown adult. I can do this." he said to nobody but himself, hearing the uncertainty that was evident in his own voice. "It was just a dream."

With trembling fingers he pulled the sheets tighter around your shoulders, placing a long kiss to your temple before climbing out of bed, feet scuffling against the carpet as he crept carefully out of the room.

The apartment was the same size as it always was however while it usually felt cosily small, now it was suffocating. Every breath felt like the air was thinner than the last and Taehyung wanted - no needed - out.

Quietly, he pulled on a shirt and slipped his feet into his shoes before scribbling a note in his messy scrawl: GONE TO MARKET. BACK SOON.

A walk. That is what he needed. The fresh air would do him good, help him clear his head.

The cane he was used to grabbing out of habit now balanced against the dresser. Gingerly, he applied pressure to his thigh, wincing when an ache captured his leg. Not nearly as painful as before, though.

His fingertips brushed the cane's handle, before retreating to the fleece lining of his coat pocket.

"She'll be happy," he reminded himself of your face, imagining the way it would beam when you saw him walking without assistance. "You can do it."

Hand caught on the door handle, Taehyung turned and took one last look at your sleeping form, lashes pressed tightly to the tops of your cheeks.

And with that, he slid out of the door, pressing it shut with a quiet click before making his way into town.

The morning air was cooler than usual against Taehyung's face, and the light chills that crept up his arms were a welcome relief from the heat that still lingered somewhere beneath his skin.

Preparations for the annual September Fate filled the market with an excited buzz as Taehyung walked beneath the blue and yellow bunting someone had strung between opposing balconies in celebration.

If there was one thing Taehyung could rely on it was that the town was full of life. The infectious warmth was enchanting, drawing Taehyung in with its loud and bustling charms and thawing a sense of normality from beneath the vice like grip of unnerving fear that still clouded his mind.

Herds of people crowded around tattered wagons decorated with collages of fresh produce. Taehyung felt his shoulders relax from their hunched state as his eyes glazed across their familiar faces, anxiety eased by the contagious giggles of playing children.

"Bonjour, Taehyung." An older man behind a vibrant fruit stall called as he passed by, whom he recognized as a regular from the bakery.

"Bonjour, Monsieur," He drawled back in French, his pronunciation not yet perfect but improving. The people here didn't seem to mind though, accepting him as one of their own. The quizzical stares he had received upon arriving were long gone, replaced with knowing grins and tenderness. It felt like family. It felt like Taehyung belonged.

The fragrance of sweet jasmine and white lilies drew Taehyung's attention towards a flower stall which sat nearby. The blooms were as vibrant as the town itself, flamboyant and almost too beautiful not to stare at and before he knew it his feet were shuffling towards the biggest bouquet of sunflowers on display, their dreamy scent lulling him with a sense of familiarity.

Sunflowers were never his favourite but somehow they intrigued him now; they were majestic power and strength, surviving every storm and begging for the sunlight they received so graciously. They were joy on a cloudy day, giving their beauty to the world without regret.

Absentmindedly, Taehyung handed a crisp bill to the stall owner and told her to wrap the entire bunch.

While the age calloused fingers of an old lady began to carefully twist the stems in brown paper, a bell chimed as a door was opened nearby, followed by the click of heels and harmonious, sugary laughter. Taehyung's eyes couldn't help but wander.

A couple stepped out of the store which sat on the street corner, a spring in the step of the young woman whose eyes were filled with stars -  almost brighter than the ring her partner placed on her forth finger.

The man's own expression softened as he watched her hold out her slender fingers, admiring the rock that symbolized infinity; eternal love. His palms cupped her chin and he tilted his own so that their lips crashed together perfectly. And Taehyung found a small smile growing on his own face as he watched them disappear hand in hand, filled with a sudden sense of longing.

His heart was laced with a desperation to touch you, to feel you. To tell you that he was hopelessly yours and he wanted nothing more than to make you his, if you would allow him.

He didn't need the wedding - though he had to admit the idea of seeing you in a dress was mouthwatering, the image too beautiful for him to comprehend - just you and him and the security of forever and always.

It was almost laughable. How he had turned up in a new town, an amnesiac and an outsider. Yet somehow the things he had forgotten didn't matter anymore when what he knew was so precious; the love he felt for life here was real and something told him he should hold onto it until death did he part.

But if losing it meant having you, he would agree in a heartbeat. And that's how he knew you were special.

Taehyung's palm cupped his forehead, shielding his eyes from the morning sun as he read the handmade sign balanced above the window of the store the couple emerged from. Someone had scrawled Pawn Shop in French, the red paint a little smudged at the edges but still legible.

It was like some sort of rope was tightening around Taehyung's waist, drawing him closer and closer, all earlier thoughts forgotten as he pushed his way through the small crowd, ignoring the grunts of irritation from those around him.

A glass window separated him from the display of silver and gold jewelry encased in glass, each labeled with prices and carats and styles. His eyes scanned the shelves of rings - each pretty enough to make his heart flutter slightly at the thought of watching it catch the light on your finger but none quite what he envisioned.

Until he saw it. In a box, black and perfectly simple, with an interior of pink satin - elegant yet tasteful. It was luxury and splendor and everything that this town was not.

Except, all of this become a blur when Taehyung's eyes fell on the main prize - something that made every other stone in the world seem like mere rhinestones and crystals in comparison.

Something he had...seen before.

A diamond ring.

And just like that, it hit him. Everything hit him.

Memories flooded back to Taehyung in a flash, his breath catching in his throat as images crossed his mind in an agonizing rush.

Bangtan. The fans. The house. The car.

Remembering felt like a searing heat that ripped through his chest, causing him to buckle as he gripped his throat in a desperate attempt at taking a heaving breath.

The pain was unlike anything he had felt before, worse than any wound a knife could inflict or dream could conjure and it sent his heart into a torturous irregular thump that rattled his rib cage and deafened his ears.

This was no longer a nightmare. It was reality. And for the first time, Taehyung no longer stung with heat but fell numb with the bitter cold of truth.

"Monsieur?"

Taehyung couldn't hear, his vision cloudy yet somehow clearer now that his mind was no longer obscured by the blindfold that he had so desperately tried to remove. The mask that prevented him from remembering who he was and where he came from. The blindness that led him to you.

A gasp left Taehyung's throat, barely aware of his fists against the glass, the sound reverberating through his head over and over until it all became static.

His eyes were wide and panicked, unaware of the commotion he was causing as he stepped back into the street, narrowly avoiding a motorcyclist as it swerved around his stumbling form. His legs were weak and he was sure the world was spinning as he placed his sweaty palms on his knees to steady himself.

Minutes ago, if you'd asked, Taehyung would have said he wanted to remember. But now that he did, he wanted nothing more than to forget.

He wanted to forget the practice room and the choreography and the hardships. The arguments and the paparazzi and the headlines. The photo shoots and the interviews and that fucking ring that his company wanted him to give to a girl who wasn't you.

"Holy shit," Taehyung stuttered, extending his arms in an attempt to steady himself as he made his way through the throngs of people, desperate to escape the sticky humidity that burned his lungs with every inhale. "I need to get out of here."

The market seemed to roar with rage now, the street narrowing around him as he swallowed a scream. The deafening chaos made Taehyung's ears split as he fought to escape the flaming breathlessness.

His feet began to move, finally cooperating with his brain which was telling them to go, go, go, before a slender hand tightly pinned him in place by the forearm, eliciting another breathy gasp to leave his lips as he tried to break free from its grip.

"Your flowers, Monsieur?" A far away voice rang out, pressing a package into his sweaty palms."Extras, free of charge, for your mi amor."

The flowers.

Their scent was utterly nauseating now, no longer providing a sense of hope for the future but rather a reminder of the fragility of his life here. With one paparazzi shot or tourist encounter, his identity could be revealed; and everything he loved, ripped away.

You. You could be ripped away.

You didn't fit into his life as idol Kim Taehyung. And he knew that.

But then again, neither did he. Not really. He had never felt more truly Kim Taehyung than when he was here with you or behind the bakery counter or at the harbor. He wasn't ready to leave it behind. Not yet.

Before his trembling lips could form any sort of response, however coherent, his legs were carrying him back along the path he had grown to know well, past the bar and the bakery, through the alley and up the steps until his fingers were fumbling with the handle of the door he knew led to you.

The same word ran around his mind in dizzying circles, louder than the cries of IDOL PERSONALITY V and YOU NEED TO TELL HER.

Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.

Your name. The only thing that felt familiar and right among the memories of what came before.

His shaky fingers managed to shake the screen door open, no longer able to hold his own weight and landing on his knees against the carpet, flowers discarded somewhere behind him. He didn't care when the rough surface burned his calves, resting his head against the floor as he finally took deep, heaving breaths for what felt like the first time in his life.

A few moments passed and he finally gained some form of control over his limbs again, unsteadily raising so his weight rested on the hinds of his legs. He took in the space around him. Everything was as he left it - the bed messy from where you lay with him the night before, open books pushed aside on the night stand next to chamomile tea, cold now.

Everything was eerily familiar.

How could anything be the same when everything was different now?

Except, things weren't entirely the same - the room was devoid of your presence, leaving the apartment cold as ice even though it was still warm outside. Was it because you weren't in it or because he had arrived?

He couldn't be sure.

Taehyung wobbled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support.

"Y/N?" He called meekly, surprised by the hoarseness of his voice. He sounded as wrecked as he felt. He received no answer, just the echo of his own pathetic state, bouncing from the walls of the empty room until his head throbbed angrily.

Taehyung stumbled feebly over to the kitchen sink, taking a glass between his shaky fingers and attempting to fill it with water from the faucet. Most of the liquid splashed over the edge, the glass chinking against his teeth as he swallowed what he could.

A few moments passed with Taehyung bent over the sink, partly because he didn't think his legs would work if he tried to walk and also as a precaution due to the bile that was steadily rising in his throat as an image slowly worked its way to the forefront of his mind.

Joy.

Her face - one he naively coaxed himself into believing he loved - was enough to wrack his entire body with wave after wave of guilt and self condemnation.

As far as she was aware he had just...disappeared.

Sure, he didn't want to marry her but he also didn't want to make her suffer, unknowingly or not. It pained him to know that there were people probably looking for him right now - he knew that there were people who cared about his whereabouts enough to hunt him down. The fans would be distraught, he was sure of it.

But what hurt the most was that a part of him wished that they didn't care. He wished he could have slipped away without worry or repercussion, without people nationwide caring about whether his hair was pink or blue or if he was coming home. Without his company caring about how much money they could exploit him for.

Idol personality V didn't exist. At least not anymore, not now that Kim Taehyung had taken his place. And he would be damned if he let him slip away just yet.

Taehyung scrunched his eyes shut tight, focusing on replacing memories of Joy's dark curls and pouty red lips with your warmth and your touch. And for a moment, the waves faded to sea foam.

A brush of velvet fabric against his arm. Perfume, sickeningly sweet.

Words played over and over in his head.

To: joy ❤

i will be back in a couple of days. don't wait up.

The last text Taehyung sent before he boarded a plane and landed bang in the middle of a new beginning.

The words rang out in his mind. She never replied.

Or did she?

Before he could think better of it, Taehyung was across the room in a flash. Hot adrenaline rushed through his veins as he ripped the closet door open, heart thumping at a pace he was sure was unhealthy when he located the black bag he arrived with.

He pulled the bandanna from around his neck over his head to prevent his hair from falling in his eyes. Trembling fingers gripped the zipper and he took a deep breath before ripping it open all the way, shoving his fist inside the dark interior and rummaging around until he found the cold metal of his phone.

Waiting for the device to start up was torturous; the loading bar seemed to move slower the more he willed it to hurry. His back was to the door and Taehyung's eyes were trained to the white dot as it gradually crept upwards...

Until the phone in his palm started to buzz uncontrollably, bathing his face in a blue glow and alerting him of an influx of incoming messages to his inbox.

300+ Unread Messages

His heart sank as the pad of his thumb swiped across the screen, revealing the password display. And it twisted in his chest when he carefully inputted the four numbers that separated him from the point of no return.

0309. Her birthday.

Just like that, the barrier was broken. He was in.

The wallpaper of his slightly blurry Pomeranian puppy stared at him as his trembling fingers lingered over the green message app. Taking a shaky inhale, he opened it, scanning the abundance of names that sent pulses of pain with each remembrance.

FROM: JOY

a few days?? what do you mean?? tae?? please reply. im getting worried. im calling the police tae.

Taehyung exited the chat before he could read any more, the messages enhancing the ache in his chest ten fold. Instead he scrolled to the top of the list until he landed on the latest, yesterday:

FROM: MIN YOONGI

please man, if you've seen the news...just come home. we're all out searching for you. please.

News? Before he could stop himself, he was typing his name into the internet search bar and biting his lip as hundreds of pages with his face as the headline loaded in front of him.

Barely glancing at the titles, he opened the first link, scrolling past numerous articles.

"K-pop singer of BTS Kim Taehyung, also known as V, is still missing since his initial disappearance on the 24th of May. His company, Big Hit Entertainment, is still pleading for any information regarding his whereabouts and his safe return."

Sliding his finger down from the top of his phone screen revealed the current date. 4th of September.

He had been gone for almost four months?

"Alongside his family, other members of BTS have finally broken the silence regarding his sudden disappearance. Kim Namjoon, the leaders group told news outlets on Saturday: 'We just want him to come home safely. He is family to us and we miss him terribly. We remain hopeful that he is still out there and we are doing everything we can to facilitate his return.'"

Taehyung scanned a few more paragraphs containing the last witness reports of sightings of him at Incheon Airport before his departure and then -

"Album sales of the bands latest repackaged release, Love Yourself: Answer have soared since the news of Taehyung's disappearance broke, hitting record highs and breaking previous records."

"Of course." Taehyung sneered bitterly, teeth clenched, pinching the bridge of his nose to dull the throb that had settled in his forehead. "That's what they care about. Fucking album sales."

The old Taehyung was consumed by numbers, constantly checking sale rates and celebrating new records and watching the numbers in his bank account climb to a string of figures long enough to require a scroll bar.

The new Taehyung, excuse his French, did not give a shit.

Just as he was about to open another article and bask in his own furious condemnation of society, soft footsteps pattered against the carpet nearby.

"Taehyung?" A voice drew him from his ministrations - your voice - and he twisted so fast he was convinced he pulled a muscle, throwing the phone filled with hatred and toxicity somewhere behind him and wincing at the audible thud that followed.

Then, you appeared - hair still wet and wrapped in a white towel. In his haste he had not noticed the gentle hum of the shower.

"What are you doing in there?" You questioned with an eyeing smile, nodding towards where he stood nervously inside the closet staring past you with empty eyes. "Are you looking for something?"

Just reading about my nationwide search party. How about you?

Taehyung simply blinked at you a few times before he realised your question warranted an answer. "O-oh no, I was just - "

Before he could finish, you were already occupied by something else, face suddenly lighting up with the glow of a smile that still managed to make his stomach somersault despite the circumstances.

"Are these for me?" You asked quietly, letting out a breathy sigh of admiration while picking up the bouquet which lay limply on the carpet. You fixed the petals which had been crushed in Taehyung's earlier haste. "They're beautiful."

They were beautiful. A shade of vibrant yellow which stood out against the muted background of your apartment.

"N-not..as beautiful a-as you." Taehyung managed to stutter, finishing his broken sentence with a smile as if that would do anything to conceal his anxiety.

"Oh, shush." You grinned, spinning on your heels to place the bouquet on the countertop. "I should get a vase - wait, are you okay?"

Worry was suddenly evident in your voice as you locked eyes with Taehyung. His face was paled and his eyes vacant, fingers fidgeting with each other and he shook his head lightly from side to side.

"What? Oh, yeah." Taehyung mumbled, finally shuffling out of the closet and into the apartment. "Just a little tired."

Your heart hurt at the sight of him - he seemed so off. "I'm not surprised, Tae, you were awake all night."

Running your hands through your dripping hair as a makeshift comb, you carefully treaded closer to him. It was strange; you were almost nervous to touch him for the first time. As if he would turn to dust with the lightest pressure.

"I was?" He scratched the back of his neck nervously, eyes slotting around every edge of the room except for where your eyes sat. "I don't...I guess -"

"Hey, hey," You couldn't stand it any longer, reaching forward to pull his large frame down next to you on the bed, legs crossed as you cupped his face in your palm. "What's up? You can tell me?"

Taehyung knew he should tell you. But he also knew that if he did, nothing would be the same. This wouldn't be the same. Just you and him.

Privacy doesn't exist when you live in a house with 3 walls, the nation always watching through the window. He couldn't subject you to that. Or himself, quite frankly.

And that was the moment Taehyung decided. He could never tell you.

"Nothing, baby. I promise." Forcing what he hoped appeared to be a natural smile to grace his lips, pressing his thumb and forefinger to your chin in gentle reassurance. "Don't worry about me, yeah?"

Still not convinced, you narrowed your eyes, pout forming on your lips. "But you seem so tense."

Your hands rubbed circles into his neck and shoulders, highlighting the tight pressure that he hadn't noticed resided there. Your eyes shone with interrogation and he tried to relax his muscles in an attempt at putting you at ease.

"I just need to lay down and rest for a little - "

"You know, I know a way to get you to relax." A small smile played innocently on your lips.

Taehyung's breath caught in his throat as he felt you tracing featherlight circles against his inner thigh, voice electric as you hooked your leg over his lap.

His hot palms came to rub your bare shoulders. "I don't know if we should right now -"

"It was just a suggestion," you snap, instantly jumping from his lap like he was a live wire. Taehyung's stomach sank. "I just - I don't know what to do anymore Tae."

"What do you-"

"I feel so helpless," you explain, drawing your knees to your chest as heat threatened to prick your eyes. "I'm trying to help but however hard I try I can't stop it."

"Stop what?" Taehyung couldn't resist lacing his fingers with yours, relieved when you made no attempt to pull away.

"I don't know - whatever is hurting you...whatever you can't tell me."

"Y/N..."

"It's okay, Tae." Bare feet against the carpet, you turned away from his piercing gaze. "I understand. You don't want me around anymore."

Is that what you really thought? He wanted to tell you just how much he needed you - he practically relied on you to get through each minute of the day lately - but the words just wouldn't come.

"Y/N, I'm serious okay. It's just these nightmares..."

"Then tell me? What are they?"

You can't. Don't tell her.

"Okay." Taehyung pulled your body back towards him, gripping your waist until you slid onto his thigh.

"Okay wha- oh."

"I'll let you help."

"Really?" You bit your lip, searching his eyes anxiously. They were empty. "Let me just help you relax. Please?"

"Oh yeah? Relax?" He let out a breath shakily, hands coming to grip the rough towel that covered your hips as confidently as he could. He felt far away as you teased his neck with light kisses that trailed from the base of his jaw to his earlobe. "And how would you do that?"

You can't do this now, the voice of reason in his head screamed, not after you lied.

Your nimble fingers came to the buttons of his shirt, twisting each one carefully until the fabric slowly fell from his shoulders. Taking your time, you drew light circles against his chest, avoiding eye contact by focusing on tracing a dot to dot with the freckles on his collar bone.

"Just like this." You whisper, finally tilting your chin so that your calm breaths mingled with his own anxious ones. To your surprise, it was him who closed the space between you, his lips cushioning your own with a gentle tenderness that almost erased the uncertainty that had settled into your stomach.

He was still Taehyung. Your Taehyung.

Bringing a hand to his jaw, you deepen the kiss. His lashes fluttered closed against your cheeks and you could almost feel the desperation which coursed through his veins.

Taehyung was overwhelmed by the scent of your shampoo and the softness of your skin as it brushed his bare top half. It clouded his judgement and silenced the voice in his head that screamed STOP!

Your hips dropped slowly, dragging agonising circles over his groin. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, a string of soft whimpers leaving your lips as the heat between your legs grew stronger, a towel and his sweats the only fabric separating you from what you wanted most.

Taehyung watched you with lidded eyes, enjoying each twist of your hips against his length.

Really? You are hard right now?

"See," You whispered, dragging your hands down his back and enjoying the way he shivered under your touch. "You're relaxing already."

Taehyung nodded, silently agreeing to your words. His hands shakily came to the place where your towel crossed, glancing at your face for permission. A quick nod of your head was all he needed before he was pulling away the fabric, leaving you completely bare on his lap.

You sat back a little, allowing his eyes to rake in your form. Taehyung watched the way you shamelessly dragged your heat over his clothed hardness, leaving a noticeable wet spot. He lingered on your breasts for a moment before he dipped his head, sucking hot kisses into the exposed skin of your chest.

The pace was slowly picking up, a small moan leaving your lips as you raked your hands through his hair gently, pulling the locks to draw his face to yours. Taehyung's forehead crashed against your own and for a few seconds, he just stared at you, as if debating something.

Don't do it. Don't do it.

His nose rubbed yours sweetly and his tongue snaked out to coat his chapped lips. And then his mouth was on yours, hot and hungry as his hands seemed to leave a scorching heat wherever they touched.

Never leaving his lips, you reached between your legs to fumble with his zipper, desperate to feel him. After a few failed attempts, he smirked into the kiss before reaching between your bodies to undo it himself, knuckles brushing against your dripping folds and drawing a whine from your lips.

Taehyung let out a gasp as the cool air hit his length and choked back a grunt when your small hand wrapped around it. He was hot and heavy in your palm, hand gliding against the ridges on the underside of his cock as you stroked him slowly.

Your gaze never left his as you climbed down from his lap, pulling his pants a little further down his legs and pushing his thighs open with your hands to make space for you for fit between them. Taehyung couldn't help but hiss when he felt your breath fanning his cock, nails scratching his hips while you stared at him alluringly.

"Y/N you don't have to - oh my god." His words caught in his throat when you pressed the first kiss to the underside of his length, lips warm and plump against the hot pulse between his legs. Your tongue dragged sinful stripes up the shaft, blowing cool air across the trails before swirling around his engorged head at a pace that had his eyes rolling into his skull.

Taehyung rested his weight on his elbows you watch as you gently slipped his tip between your lips, hollowing your cheeks and savouring the saltiness of the precum which leaked from his head. His length was already a stretch as you tried to fit as much as you could into your hot mouth.

You pressed your tongue to the underside of his cock as you began to bob slowly up and down his length, wrapping your lips tightly around his shaft as Taehyung resisted the urge to buck into your mouth.

After a few long strokes of your mouth, you drew back with a pop, using your hand to stroke the base of his now glistening dick before attaching your mouth to the head once again.

"H-holy shit, Y/N." Taehyung had given up hiding his pleasure, openly moaning lowly as your eyes bore into his own. He wanted to watch the way his cock slid in and out of your wet mouth but he couldn't bare to look away from your enchanting stare for even a moment.

Your free hand searched for his wrist, pulling his fingers towards your hair and encouraging him to lock them around the strands. He obliged, taking a loose hold and using his other hand to stroke your cheek encouragingly.

You let your jaw fall slack, blinking at him for a moment until he got the message. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling you back and off his cock before thrusting you back down. He was gentle though, scared to push you too far and you placed your hand on top of his own to assure him you could take it.

You are selfish. How can you take from her when you're lying?

The pleasure was becoming too much and Taehyung could feel his climax building, white hot in the pit of his stomach. "Y/N, I'm gonna -"

And with that, you popped off his dick abruptly, snapping Taehyung out of his daze. "I - what?"

With a sly smirk, you climbed back onto his lap again, palms pushing his chest so his back rested against the bed.

The throb between your own legs was almost painful, your clit begging to be touched and even the lightest of brushes against Taehyung's cock had you moaning loudly. Taehyung caught on quickly, dipping his hand between your wet folds and rubbing fast, hard circles into your sweet spot.

"No, no - " You stuttered, pushing his hand away. "I want to cum around...around you."

Taehyung smiled at your nervous admission, large palms gripping your waist firmly.

"I'm all yours." He said, voice husky with arousal and desperation. But he meant it. He was yours.

And before he could fathom it, you were sinking down onto his cock, walls hot and velvety around his sensitive length.

The ridges of his dick rubbed your walls perfectly and you clenched around him, drawing desperate groans from the both of you as you began to bounce up and down, setting a pace that still wasn't quite fast enough.

Taking the hint, Taehyung began thrusting his own hips up into yours and this time it was perfect. Each upward push left you writhing above him, hands fisting your hair as the head of his cock rubbed against the spot you wanted it most.

His pubic bone brushed against your clit with every thrust and you knew you wouldn't last much longer. Taehyung was near too, desperately trying to focus on the feeling of you around him to distract from the deafening voice which plagued his mind.

TELL HER! TELL HER! TELL HER!

But then, you were coming around him, head falling forward to fit between his shoulder and walls clenching so perfectly around his length that he fell over the edge too, white hot pleasure consuming him as he came inside you.

Your breath was hot against his neck and Taehyung’s strong grip brought you closer to him.

And for a moment, the voice was gone.

[mintsugacandy]

Next to you

Pairing- Park Jimin x Reader

Genre- Angst, eventual fluff 

Warnings- Quite some negative thoughts in the middle. Oh, and it’s pretty long. Thought that should be a warning too?

A/N- A friend to whom I showed my drafts told me to post this, it’s been there since as long as this blog has been lmao. idk I just don’t feel satisfied with this piece of writing? please tell me how it is!

You had finally reached home. The five hours of overworking nearly killed you. They made the whole situation you were in, worse.

Your mind had lately been engulfed in dark thoughts. You thought those days had slowly faded away since you had started dating Jimin. But if you’ve ever had depression at some point in your life, that doesn’t stop you from being a victim again.

And this was such a wrong time. Jimin was touring. The man who managed to heal most of those scars wasn’t with you. Your fingers itched to speed dial his number and just hear his voice, hear his whining, or his soft giggles. Or how poetic he sounds when he tells you he loves you. But you held yourself back, because a part of your toxic thoughts made you feel like you were too clingy a girlfriend. You don’t want to be a burden on him when he’s miles away, you thought to yourself. 

The past week had you reflecting on your past- your broken self from a few months ago, and the start of your relationship with Jimin. And then came the negative thoughts; had Jimin started dating you because he pitied your shattered self? Haven’t you been so dependent on him? Aren’t you always crying about your sorry self to him? Isn’t that so selfish of you? What have you done for him?

You threw your bag on the couch and trudged towards the bedroom. Don’t you think you’re pulling him down? Weighing him down? You opened the bathroom door and leaned on the sink. Isn’t he missing out on so much because of you? You stared at yourself in the mirror for a few moments. Who are you, really? Clearly, you’re way out of his league. Or anyone’s, for that matter. No wonder they all left you. Why don’t you stop trying?

You backed out into the bedroom and slumped against the wall. You were sad, you were frustrated. You knew why, but didn’t, at the same time. The tightness that remained in your throat throughout the day was slowly going, because you finally let it all out. 

You began to sob uncontrollably, and your frustration made your hands want to claw at something. That something soon turned out to be your own arms. Your nails left bright red lines along your arms, and they slowly began to burn. Your face ended up with those lines too. Your face was burning, and the tears made it worse.

You bitch, no one’s going to love you! The memory of the last thing your ex said flashed before you. It made the tears come faster. It made you feel small and worthless in this big, big, world. 

But at some point, exhaustion took over you and you fell asleep.

You were sitting on the floor with your knees hugging your chest. The place you were was so narrow, that it wasn’t even a room. You couldn’t even spread your arms and legs. But the ceiling was so high that you couldn’t even see it, all you could see was blackness.

You grew restless with suffocation and looked around for an exit.

And then water started to pour over you from the top. You couldn’t even see where it was coming from. But it was slowly filling the small place you were trapped in. When the water level reached your chin, you flailed around to prevent yourself from drowning. 

It had reached your eyes now, the water. Your eyes were burning and your lungs ached as they filled with water. You tried to swim to the top, only in vain. Everything around you was sickly grey, the colour of the walls, and it slowly turned black as your vision disappeared...

You woke up in cold sweat, tangled in sheets, gasping for air.

You didn’t realise you were choking on tears till you let out a sob.

And soon, your crying escalated to a point where you couldn’t breathe. You gasped for air but your cries made you feel suffocated.

You don’t know how, but you found yourself dialling Jimin’s number. You couldn’t even think of cutting the call instantly, because he picked it up in a single ring.

“Y/N! I just clicked a picture and was sending it to you!” And then he paused. “Wait. Isn’t it like 2 am there? Why are you awake?” He added. His voice was high-pitched, trying to speak over the noise in the background.

When you didn’t reply, he said, “Y/N..?”

“Jimin” You managed to gasp.

“Oh my god, what’s wrong, baby?”

You tried to say “nothing”, but, you know those times where if you try to speak, you’ll end up crying even more? This moment was the best example.

“N-no...I-” Your voice quivered, but you couldn’t. So you began to cry your breathless ones.

“Oh god, Y/N. Calm down or you won’t be able to breathe!”

“Shhhh. Breathe as I count, okay?” Now his voice was softer, probably because he went to a quieter room.

You tried to take long breaths as he counted slowly. You could hear the tension in his voice and hated to be the one to make him worried for you like this. You really are no good, are you?

Your breaths came out shaky but you felt better.

“I don’t know what made you break down like this... I wish I did. I wish I was there next to you right now... Shit, I feel so useless. Damn this tour and-”

“N-no! It’s not your fault! I just, haven’t been myself lately, that’s all. And I should be sorry! You were probably busy with everything and-”

“All that doesn’t matter when you’re crying so much that you can’t even breathe! I couldn’t care less about practice if it’s anything with you involved.”

“I love you so much, Jiminie. I’ll...try to sleep now? Sorry, again.”

“I swear, Y/N, if you say sorry again-”

“Fine, sorry, sorry!”

“Y/N.” He said in a fake angry voice.

“Okay, well, then, I apologise for that.” You giggled.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Can I sing you a song while you try to sleep? Okay wait, that wasn’t a question, I am.”

You always found his voice beautiful. You liked all of his band’s songs, but his voice especially. You’d repeat his parts all the time and never get tired of it.

But in this moment, it sounded so much more beautiful, so much more melodious, and so much more emotional, and you didn’t think that was possible.

You woke up at the sound of your phone ringing. You tried to ignore it at first but it rang again. The screen said BOSS. “Oh shit.” You groaned.

“Um, hello?” Your voice sounded hoarse with all the crying so you were praying that asking for a sick leave would work.

“Y/N, why aren’t you at work yet?”

“Uh, sir...I came down with a fever last night. Is it okay if I stay at home today?”

“Hmm. Fine. But I need you here tomorrow no matter what, okay?” And he cut the call.

You sighed. Well, at least you did something good in the past few days, you thought. Maybe you aren’t as worthless as you thought.

Wow, it hurt to even blink. You really did cry a lot last night. You felt so tired to move that you just lay there for who knows how long, and drifted to sleep again.

You woke up to the sound of the doorbell this time.

Doorbell? Wait, who could it be?

You, in your dishevelled state, somehow managed to make it to the door and opened it without a second thought.

“Jimin” you gasped, this time in surprise. There were tears in your eyes, this time because you were happy. 

He ran to hug you so hard you thought you’d be crushed. And then he stepped back to admire you. And then worriedly took your face in his hands. “What’s this? What’re these red marks on your face? Did you fight with someone while I was gone?”

“No...” You faltered. “I think it happened when I was crying yesterday...”

And to your surprise, there were tears in his eyes too. He led you to the couch, made you sit at the edge and kneeled before you. “Now, I need you to tell me what happened.”

“It was nothing.” You said with a sob. 

“But you’re crying again.”

“And so are you.” And then you both giggled. But it didn’t last for long.

“Y/N...please. I need to know.” He pleaded softly.

“I don’t know... I’ve just not been myself lately.” You said again, like last night.

“That’s not a valid reason. You know you can’t hide anything from me. Tell me.” And then he took your hands in his. “Or I won’t let go of your hands.” He added.

He took a sharp breath when he saw the scars on your hands.

“Have you...been hurting yourself again? Like before?” He asked. His voice was dangerously soft.

“No! I-I didn’t do it on purpose! It’s just something I can’t control...My hands just... scratch whatever they find...” You trailed off, realising how stupid that sounded.

“Your own arms? Your own face?” He asked, trying to understand where you were coming from. You could only shrug in response.

“You’re having those thoughts again, right? About you being worthless, and selfish, and not good enough, and whatnot?” His fingers made air quotes for worthless, selfish, and good enough.

At that, you couldn’t look at him in the eye.

“Just like the time we started dating. You were like this then, too. I...I thought being with me changed you. That you forgot all those thoughts of yours and moved on. And I guess it was my fault for forgetting about your past.” He said. “But tell me, do you not believe me when I tell you I love you?” He added, a moment later.

You tried to blink the tears away but you couldn’t. You cry so damn much, Y/N.

“It’s just that...I feel like I’m such a bother! I’m tying you down when you should be having the time of your life...and then there’re times where I just keep weeping about my pathetic self to you...I feel like I’m such an attention seeker? I only talk about my problems, and you do everything to cheer me up and ask for nothing in return...It’s no wonder my ex left me, and I’m scared you will, too, and I don’t know what I’ll do then-”

He put his finger to your lips.“Okay, first of all, stop badmouthing my girlfriend. Secondly, he’s your ex and he’s not a part of this discussion. He and I don’t get along even in the same sentence.” You always found it cute how he got worked up over your ex and you couldn’t help but smile this time either.

“Thirdly, I have no clue why you think you’ve never done anything for me. The reason I even feel alive is because you’re in my life. You find my voice beautiful, don’t you? I sing with all I’ve got because you’re all I’ve got. 

“And lastly, I won’t ever leave you, Y/N. I knew I wouldn’t, the day our eyes met across the room. Sounds cheesy, but I mean it. And I want you to tell me everything from now on. No holding back.” And then added jokingly, “Because I don’t think I’ll be allowed to come back on such a short notice while I’m on tour, and I need to be convinced that you’ll be fine on your own for a while. How will I sing my best, otherwise?”

And you realised with a start that he wasn’t even supposed to be here.

“Oh my god, why did you even come back?” You asked worriedly.

He put his hand on his heart as if hurt. “Ahh, Y/N, that sentence wounded me. Do you not want me to be here?”

“Of course I do, but I feel like shit for making you ruin your routine on tour.”

He laughed his soft laugh. The one you love. “Nah, it wasn’t such a big issue. We had a two-day gap between our concerts. And like I said before, it doesn’t matter if it’s you.” He bopped your nose, and you both burst into giggles.

“But I’ll have to catch the first flight tomorrow morning and head back...” He said. “Are you sure you’ll be fine? Do you want to come with me?” He added worriedly.

“No!” You said all too suddenly. You lowered your voice and continued. “I mean, no, I shouldn’t come with you on tour. I can’t ditch work, anyways.” You said. “And I wouldn’t want to distract a certain someone” You added flirtatiously. 

“Oh, you already did. And he flew all the way to see you.” He pushed you down on the couch, you between his arms. 

Your smile faded at that. “You didn’t need to! I’m sorry that-”

He leaned down and kissed you deeply.

“I told you not to say sorry, didn’t I?”

There might be a few mistakes in the story. Like I said, it’s a very old post. I feel like it loses its point somewhere along the line? In terms of its genre, I mean. I guess it was the first piece of fanfic I wrote. I don’t remember😂

But please do tell me how you found it, I’d love some feedback💕

Have a lovely day✨

Masterlist in bio~

-zara xx