#fingers crossed my art block stay away for a while

[pitchthepeach]

Kenobi

[narumi-gens]

Triptych | "Your curse has a name."

Chisaki Kai x f!Reader

summary: Your life is nothing more than a triptych, a work of art in three parts with each panel depicting a distinct period — a beginning, a middle, an end. And in the triptych that is your life, the central figure has always been Chisaki Kai.

chapter warnings: 18+ minors/ageless/blank blogs dni, yandere, possessive behavior, jealousy, emotional manipulation, isolation, bullying, complicated family dynamics

notes: first genuinely new part to this fic in almost three years so fingers crossed it's actually worth the wait! this is from a nonlinear story so all the parts can be read in any order.

words: 4.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

minors, blank, and ageless blogs will be blocked. do not interact.

The Beginning

“What’s got you so down?”

The question shatters the silence of the library. You pause in your note-taking to look up at the girl sitting across the table from you. She’s already watching you closely as she twirls her pencil in her fingers. You give her a kind smile and point at the untouched worksheet before her.

“Nao-chan, you’re supposed to be taking your practice quiz,” you whisper, doing your best not to disturb the other students around you. 

“This is more important,” she insists with a pout. When the boy sitting at the next table glares at the two of you over his shoulder, you give him a sheepish look.

“Your failing math grade says otherwise,” you counter, the teasing glint in your eyes undercutting the bluntness of your words. When she sticks her tongue out at you with a scowl, you quickly slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the giggle that bubbles up. 

It doesn’t seem to be enough though, because you’re on the receiving end of another dirty look from the same boy.

“How am I supposed to focus on a practice quiz when my sweet, little tutor is acting like someone kicked her puppy?” she asks and you return your attention to your notes with a soft sigh.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” you try to assure her, hoping that she’ll drop the subject altogether.

There’s a loud shhh! from the next table, the boy clearly losing his patience with you and Nao’s talking. But where you slouch down further in your seat in both shame and embarrassment, Nao just gives him an even louder shush back. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip to try and bite back a smile. 

“Let’s take a break. This dumb practice quiz isn’t going anywhere,” she says as she stands up. “I can hear the vending machines calling our names.”

She doesn’t wait for you before she’s walking away, letting the library doors slam shut after her and earning the ire of every other student trying to study. You consider just staying put and waiting for Nao to come back. 

You take a moment to gaze at your open textbook almost longingly, wanting to simply lose yourself in differential equations. But knowing that Nao will wait as long as she needs to, you set down your pencil and follow after her — taking great care to quietly close the library door when you do. 

When you get to the vending machine, Nao is sitting on the bench next to it with two bottles of green tea beside her and an expectant look on her face. You give her a resigned smile and pick up a bottle as you join her on the bench. 

“Now that I’ve bribed you with the finest selection the vending machine has to offer, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” she asks and despite her teasing tone, you can hear the kind note of concern in her words.

“I mean, it is nothing really,” you insist as you pick at the bottle’s label, but now it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself rather than her. “It’s just…boy stuff.”

“Boy stuff is never nothing,” she’s quick to reply. When you shyly glance up at her, the overly serious look on her face makes you softly snort. But the fleeting amusement fades as you consider what to say, your toes curling in your shoes while you chew on your bottom lip. 

“Do you…do you know Ando-kun?” you give in, the question sounding meek and the bottle’s label starts to finally rip from your anxious toying. “He’s in Class 2.”

“From the baseball team, right?” she confirms and you nod before sighing heavily.

“Yeah, we’ve been studying together lately. And I just, you know, thought he liked me,” you tell her with a shake of your head. You nervously scratch the back of your head and weakly attempt to laugh. “I guess that’s stupid. But he just really seemed like he did.”

Your hand drops back to the bottle and you slowly begin to peel off the label entirely. Nao sits quietly beside you, patiently listening. And despite how much of an idiot you feel, it does make you feel at least a little better to talk to someone else about it. 

“We had plans to hang out last weekend but then he canceled at the last minute,” you start to recount for her and your face feels hot from the humiliation of remembering the entire incident all over again. “So, I found him at lunch to ask him if he wanted to go out this weekend instead…”

There’s a slow prickling sensation building behind your eyes as tears begin to form and you quickly try to blink them away. When that doesn’t work, you quickly set down the green tea and cover your face with your hands, too ashamed to let Nao see you getting so upset over something so seemingly insignificant. 

“A-and I guess maybe I shouldn’t have said ‘go out,’” you sniffle. “Because he just…laughed at me. And then he asked me why someone like him would ever want to go out with someone like me.”

You must make the most pathetic sight because you suddenly feel Nao wrap her arms around you as she hugs you tightly. But you quickly chastise yourself for thinking that way about her. She’s always been friendly and nice and so, so kind to everyone — including you.

“He’s an idiot,” she huffs, trying to make you feel better. “Probably one too many baseballs to that thick head of his.”

You give a wet laugh into your palms before furiously brushing away your tears, using the sleeve of your sweater to wipe away the ones brimming your lashes before they can fall. 

“I’m not kidding!” she continues, leaning back slightly so that you can see the exaggerated disbelief on her face. “‘Someone like him.’ Pfft. What does that even mean? Someone too dumb to realize how lucky he is that the girl literally at the top of our year is into him?”

While you find it hard to believe what she’s saying, it does manage to make you feel just a little bit better. You don’t point out to her that ‘someone like him’ means someone normal and ‘someone like you’ means someone who comes from a family of villains. In the back of your mind, you wonder if she already knows that and is just trying to spare your feelings. 

“Thank you,” you quietly say, gently cutting her off before she can continue. For as much as you appreciate her attempts to cheer you up, you would rather just try to forget about it altogether. “You know what would really help me feel better?”

“What? Just name it and it’s yours!” she replies as she rests her hands on your shoulders, determined to do whatever she can to help you move past Ando and his rejection.

“If you pass your next math test,” you tell her and a laugh escapes you at how quickly the eagerness in her expression is replaced by horror. You give one of her hands a soft pat before standing up and leaving her behind as you make your way back to the library.

You glance over your shoulder when you hear her running to catch up, only for her to come to a stop in front of you so that you’re forced to stop as well. The determination has returned to her face.

“I won’t just pass it. I’ll ace it,” she says, the words spoken so seriously that they sound like an oath. Surprise colors your features before you softly smile.

“I know you will,” you grin in return and Nao lights up in pride at your belief in her. “But why don’t we just start with the practice test? I’m sure it’s feeling kind of lonely in the library all by itself.”

“I don’t know. That shushing guy is probably all the company it needs,” she retorts and you both burst into giggles as you begin to walk toward the library again. 

As your laughter dies down, the amusement still lingers and you find yourself wanting to joke about what happened with Ando rather than cry over it.

“Hm, maybe I’m just cursed,” you shrug, a self-deprecating smile tugging at your lips.

“Why?” Nao asks and when you glance over at her, you see her frowning slightly in concern.

“It’s just that every time a guy seems to like me, he’ll then start acting like I have the plague or something,” you explain flippantly, hoping that your light tone will ease whatever it is about the topic that has her looking so unsettled. But her frown only deepens. “It’s gotta be a curse, right?”

“Yeah, it is,” she scoffs with a bitter laugh. “Your curse has a name. It’s called Chisaki Kai.”

You immediately freeze, stopping right in your tracks. All attempts at levity are forgotten as you try to understand what she’s just said. What does Kai have to do with any of this? He’s not even in your year — a Third Year where both you and Nao are in your second. 

“What?” you ask, your forehead wrinkling in confusion. 

She seems to only now see that you’re no longer at her side because she finally stops walking and turns back to face you with surprise. Only, the more you look at her, you start to recognize that it’s not really surprise on her expression, it’s shock. She nervously lifts a hand up to her lips, like she’s trying to put the words back where they came from. 

“S-sorry. I-I don’t…I don’t know why I said that,” she eventually manages to stutter out, doing her best to give you a reassuring smile but it only makes her look anemic.

“What do you mean? Kai’s my…curse?” you repeat and you almost want to laugh over just how ridiculous it sounds. The only thing that keeps you from doing so is how anxious Nao looks. 

She doesn’t answer you for a long moment, silence hanging in the hallway until she lets out a loud sigh and closes the distance between you. Where she truly seemed to be displaying compassion while you told her about Ando, all you can see now is pity and it makes your skin crawl.

“He’s been threatening any guy who gets too close to you,” she tells you. She speaks gently, as if you’re an animal that she doesn’t want to spook. 

You immediately start shaking your head, unable to — refusing to — believe what you’re hearing. 

“No, he wouldn’t do that,” you protest, feeling an instinctive need to defend him. He’s your best friend. He’s family. 

The pity on Nao’s face only grows in response and it makes you feel even more defensive.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to say anything because I know you’re close,” she offers and she hesitates before cautiously continuing. “That’s…probably what happened with Ando-kun. He’s even beaten a couple of guys up over it.”

You shake your head again. She probably just didn’t hear what happened right. You would be the first person to admit that Kai has a temper, although it’s never been directed toward you. You’re also not blind to his tendency to use his fists over his words.

But he always has a reason. It’s always been to defend the Hassaikai and to protect you. Maybe…maybe these guys were putting on an act when they were with you — an act that Kai knew how to see right through.

Kai’s just watching out for you. He probably didn’t need to go as far as he has been, but he wouldn’t do it without a reason. He’s just protecting you.

“Kai wouldn’t do that,” you insist again, your voice even firmer this time. Nao looks visibly uncomfortable and finally gives a noncommittal hum.

“I guess you know him better than I do, right?” she replies, a note of sadness in her question. She then forces another smile on her face, trying to paper over the awkwardness that’s settled over you both. “Come on, we can’t leave that practice test alone much longer. Who knows what that shushing guy is getting up to with it!”

Your responding laugh feels just as stiff, but you do your best to try and move past your own sense of unease. However, Nao’s accusation continues to hang over you throughout the rest of your tutoring session where it then follows you home after. 

And by that night, it’s something you can no longer ignore. Because for as insistent as you were about Kai’s innocence to Nao, there’s the smallest part of you that wonders if you were also trying to convince yourself. Though the thought immediately makes you feel guilty for doubting him. 

You softly knock on bedroom Kai’s door before sliding it open without waiting for a response. He barely spares you a glance from where he sits at his desk, focused on whatever assignment he’s working on. 

The only thing that really catches his attention is when he hears you sitting down on his neatly-made bed behind him. He looks at you over his shoulder, checking to make sure that you’re not doing so while wearing the same clothes that you’ve been in all day. When he sees that you’ve changed out of your uniform and into a clean pair of shorts and a sweatshirt, he returns to his notes. 

Where the silences that you normally share are comforting and familiar, the one stretching between you now feels heavy. You wonder if Kai senses it as well or if it’s only you who feels that way. Maybe you’re just overthinking it entirely. 

Despite spending most of your afternoon preoccupied by the topic, you’re not sure how to bring it up. The longer that you sit on Kai’s bed without doing so, the more unnerved you feel. When the tension finally starts to feel too oppressive, you resign yourself to cutting it.

“Hey, I heard something at school today,” you say, attempting to appear casual. But the nervous tremor in your voice belies the cool and collected facade that you’re desperately trying to cling onto. 

“What?” he replies absently, clearly uninterested in whatever gossip is going around. 

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, hoping that being unable to see him when you answer him will make it easier to do so.

“Are you…” you trail off before clearing your throat and trying again. “Are you scaring off guys that like me?”

Kai immediately snorts at your question, seemingly amused by the idea. His pencil continues to move as he keeps working on his assignment, still giving you only the bare minimum of his attention. 

“Where’d you hear that?” he asks and his easy dismissal of the accusation somehow manages to put you both slightly at ease and further on edge. Because while it’s reassuring that he doesn’t think enough of the matter to take it seriously, he also hasn’t denied it. 

“Nowhere,” you answer with a shrug that he doesn’t see with his back still turned to you. “Just a rumor.”

While you’ll always give Kai the benefit of the doubt, you’re also not stupid. You know for a fact that if Kai learns that Nao is at the source, things would only end badly for her. 

“So, you’re not beating up guys just because they like me?” you press, your reluctance toward doing so outweighed by the need to have him assure you. 

His pencil stops moving and he finally looks back at you over his shoulder. When he sees the concern written across your features, he sets down his pencil entirely and turns in his chair to face you directly.

“I’m only fighting guys who deserve it,” he tells you and a frown pulls at the corners of your lips, unhappy with his non-answer. 

You drop your gaze down to his duvet and pull on a loose thread, your hands in need of something to do. He sighs at your reaction and you hear him stand up before coming towards you. 

Surprise cuts through your disappointment when he rests his hand on the top of your head. Its weight is warm and familiar and the unexpectedly affectionate gesture helps calm your nerves as you tilt your head back to look up at him. 

“Have I ever done anything other than keep you safe?” he asks, his tone much more patient this time. You look at him for a long moment before a soft smile forms on your lips and the anxiety that’s been constricting your heart all afternoon and evening finally relaxes.

“No,” you reply with a shake of your head, shaking off all of your doubts as you do. Kai has earned your trust and you’ll continue to give it to him.

He shares a small smile of his own with you before playfully giving your head a gentle shove and returning to his desk, ignoring you as you whine about how he should treat you better. 

The entire interaction is enough to put you at ease about the issue. A few weeks later, it’s faded completely from your mind, replaced by schoolwork and exams, the usual tensions with your father, and the time spent with Kai. 

But the thing that really starts to preoccupy your attention as the school days wear on is how Nao begins to gradually distance herself from you. It happens slowly at first, starting with a change in schedule so that you’re meeting once a week instead of your regular two times a week. 

She also seems much more focused on the actual academic aspect of the tutoring, whereas before she would find any excuse not to study. When your sessions come to an end, she’s quick to pack up her things and head off, leaving you with a strained smile and a quick goodbye rather than leaving the school together.  

You’re positive that it’s because of how you left things during your argument over Kai. The rest of that tutoring session had dragged on, every minute saturated with awkwardness. And the following week, she told you that meeting once a week would work better for her. 

You don’t really know how to fix the growing rift, unsure how to even broach the topic, let alone truly move past it to continue your once-budding friendship. But as the weeks go on and Nao starts to reschedule your sessions only to then start canceling them altogether, you know that you have to do something. 

And that something is you showing up in her class just after the school day ends, hoping to catch her before she can leave. Most of the students are emptying out, eager to be out of school altogether but there are a few groups of friends who are taking their time — Nao and two other girls being one of them. 

You nervously clench your hands into fists to keep them from shaking and hide them behind your back as you linger in the hallway just outside of the classroom, trying to gather the courage to approach them. When Nao looks up and sees you standing there, her eyes widen in surprise. She says something to her friends and then grabs her bag before coming towards you. 

“Hey, what’s up?” she greets with a friendly smile, but you can see how strained it is around the edges.

“Nothing. I just wanted to see how things are going. It’s been a bit since we’ve had a tutoring session,” you tell her, doing your best to give her a smile of your own but knowing that it probably looks just as forced as hers.

“I’m pretty sure that math test on Friday is going to kick my ass,” she says, her nose wrinkling and you softly laugh at her reaction. She’s quick to join you with a giggle of her own and relief washes over you. 

You’re also thankful for the opening that the topic provides.

“It doesn’t have to. We can do a study session if you want,” you offer, hoping that you don’t sound as eager as you feel. 

Her mirth quickly fades and she suddenly looks as uncomfortable as she did that afternoon outside the library. Whatever hope you were holding onto that things might be able to return to the way they were starts to slip through your fingers like sand. 

“Oh, I can’t. Sorry.” She gives you a sheepish smile. “I’ll review the notes we’ve been going over though! That should help.”

You slowly nod as you try to keep the frown off of your face. 

“Y-yeah, no worries,” you assure her. “But what about next week? Does our regular time still work for you? I’m free whenever so I can work around your schedule.”

The desperation is beginning to sink in but you don’t care if she’s able to pick up on it. You just want to go back to being able to spend a couple of afternoons a week with someone nice and funny and normal. 

“I’m not sure,” she hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip as she looks down at the floor. “Things are just crazy busy. Why don’t we hold off for now and I can let you know if that changes?”

It’s hard to know how to respond when she’s being so gentle about turning you down. With no option available to you other than to just give up altogether, you decide to address the elephant in the room directly.

“Nao, I’m really sorry about how things ended a few weeks ago,” you blurt out and this time it’s your turn to drop your gaze down, missing how she freezes at the change in topic.

“I-it’s fine,” she replies stiffly and your grip tightens on the straps of your bag clutched in your hands. 

“I can get kind of defensive and I really didn’t mean for it to come across—”

“I said it’s fine,” she repeats, her tone firmer this time as she tries to cut off your explanation but you continue.

“You were just trying to help and I’m sorry if—”

“My parents don’t want me to hang out with you anymore!” she snaps, her voice loud and sharp enough to catch the attention of the few other students loitering nearby in the hall.

The ability to speak escapes you as what she just said, what she just practically shouted, hangs over you. 

“They said your family is too dangerous,” she says, softer this time although it now sounds like she’s talking through a thick sheet of glass, her words muffled and distorted to your ears. She then pauses for a long moment before sighing. “I’m sorry, okay?”

And then she turns around and leaves you behind to face the stares and whispers of your peers on your own. Your face is on fire and you feel the familiar sensation of tears behind your eyes. An ugly mixture of shame and embarrassment roils in your stomach and it takes everything in you to shove it down. 

The hallway begins to feel stifling and you rush to leave, practically running down the stairs and towards the exit, barely aware of the people you need to push through as you do. Your fingers are shaking as you open your shoe locker and you hurry to switch your shoes so that you can leave as quickly as possible. 

By this point, you’re so frantic that you’re not even sure if you close the door to the locker before racing out of the building. As soon as you’re outside, you feel some of the panic dissipate with the fresh air that you’re now able to breathe.

But it’s the sight of a familiar figure walking past the school gates that has you running again in order to catch up before he can get too far. When you’re close enough, your hand reaches out and your fingers close around the fabric of his shirt and you childishly tug on the back of it to grab his attention. 

Kai gives you a slightly confused look when he turns around and sees you standing there, your hand dropping back down by your side. You meet his eyes just long enough to watch as the confusion morphs into concern, lowering your eyes altogether when you see it turn into something dangerous as he takes in your clearly distressed state. 

Guilt and embarrassment threaten to consume you at needing to come to him yet again for safety. How many times have the two of you done this same song and dance over the years? Isn’t he sick of this yet? Sick of you yet? 

Why do you have to be such a burden to him? 

“What happened?” he asks, barely able to keep the rapidly-building anger from his voice.

“Nothing,” you mumble with a pathetic sniffle. 

Even without looking at him, you know that he doesn’t believe you. His gaze feels heavy as it remains focused on you.

“Kai, it’s nothing,” you insist, your voice firm yet still just as pitiful. He remains silent and just as you open your mouth to assure him that nothing happened, he finally replies.

“I thought you were tutoring today.” It’s not a question. He says it as if he’s already put together the pieces, connecting the dots between your distress and the tutoring session that you were supposed to have.

“No, I think I’m done with that,” you mumble and it hurts to say the words aloud. “I should be focusing on my own studies anyway.”

When Kai doesn’t respond, you worry that he’s going to continue to press you for an answer. But instead, he silently takes your hand in his and pulls you with him to his side as he begins to lead you away. 

Your free hand instinctively comes up to clutch tightly onto the fabric of his shirt sleeve, holding his arm close as you rest your head against his shoulder. You’re grateful that he doesn’t comment on your sudden clinginess.

“Hey, can we stop at the konbini?” you ask timidly. You don’t really want to go home yet and maybe Kai will indulge you. It’s something you and Nao do after tutoring sessions. 

Or rather, it’s something you and Nao used to do after tutoring sessions. 

“Fine,” he agrees gruffly and you give his arm a squeeze in thanks. His easy agreement slightly soothes some of the afternoon’s sting. It also reminds you that as long as you have Kai, then you’ll be okay. 

[marco-newgate]

Marco X CisFem Reader

5

"Good morning lass." Pops murmured emerging from the hall that lead to both of your respective rooms.

"You're up early." You turned toward the single cup coffee maker taking his dark roast blend out of the cabinet and pouring it into the reusable metal cup.

"Could say the same for you. The sun isn't even up. I wish you'd been like this in your school days." He chuckled taking a seat at the table.

"Don't underestimate me; I can still sleep the day away if given the chance. Still two sugars and a drop of milk?" The old man nodded, "I just wanted to get some apartment hunting done before work."

"I hope you're not in a rush to leave, we only just got you back."

"You talk like I wasn't home every Sunday evening." You placed his cup on the table and took your seat in front of your laptop.

"You know you can stay as long as you want. There's more order when you're around and I miss my only daughter."

"Thanks pops. It'll be a while; I'm just looking at places right now." You smiled.

Marco shambled down the stairs yawning. His lavender button down falling open, revealing the white cotton tank beneath that you could faintly see the outline of his chest tattoo through. A black tie hung over his shoulders.

"Morning F/N, pops." He continued to the coffee maker taking his mug from the hook below the cabinet.

Pops hummed standing to make his way to the patio to watch the sun rise. This was a morning ritual he'd had as long as you'd known him. Occasionally on cold mornings you'd join him, neither of you breathing a word, just simply enjoying the view.

"Morning Pineapple ~ " You sipped your coffee, "You were out late."

"Was I?" The blond cocked his head, "I didn't know I had to report in yoi."

"You don't." Your brows knit, "I was just surprised you're up so early."

"It is a school day." He sighed buttoning the shirt.

"Kids have electives first period now?" You asked.

"It's block scheduling now yoi. I have four hour and a half classes a day." He sat next to you.

"What's first on your agenda?"

"Art four is first period today. They're my smallest class so we're doing silk screening."

"Ah that's so cool. I had to retake algebra two senior year so I had to drop art." You frowned.

"I remember." The blond chuckled, "Pops was so disappointed."

An embarrassed flush spread over your cheeks.

"You want me to make you a tee shirt yoi?" He flipped his collar up and started to fumble with the tie.

"Really? It's been a super long time since you made me anything." You smiled watching him clearly have a hard time, "Come here you aren't doing it right."

He scooted toward you and tipped his chin up.

"I have to make an example for them anyway." He hummed.

"OK I'll give you one of my plain shirts before you leave." You wove the tie around your fingers, "How do you wear a tie every day and not know how to tie it?"

"Thatch ties them and I leave them that way yoi." You rolled your eyes, "How do you know how to tie them?"

You chuckled as he glanced down at you brow cocked.

"Thatch. He said it'd be a great way to impress a boyfriend one day." You winked, "Impressed?"

"I can't believe he was teaching you how to seduce guys in high school." He scoffed looking away from you as you straightened the tie.

"I was too awkward to use those skills anyway." You laughed sitting back to admire your work, "There you look sort of respectable."

"It was useful in the end huh?" Thatch's voice chimed from the doorway.

His hair was down and his shirt was stained with lipstick and missing buttons.

"Look at you walk-of-shaming on a Monday." You laughed crossing the room for another cup of coffee.

"Ah yeah." He flashed a cheeky smile, "Gonna hit the shower before anyone else gets up."

"Yeah I gotta get going too yoi." Marco stood cuffing his sleeves.

"Oh the shirt." You disappeared down the hall reappearing with a heather gray v-neck.

"Thanks. Have a good day at work." He tossed your shirt over his shoulder and pecked your cheek before heading out the door.

"D-did Marco just kiss you?!" Ace practically shrieked - obviously as surprised as you.

You whipped around to face the wide eyed raven unable to find any words and even if you could you weren't breathing.

Breathe!

Ace crossed the room grabbing your shoulders and scrunching his freckled face.

"What's going on here F/N?"

"I- I don't think he even knows he did it." You breathed.

"How could he not? He doesn't do stuff like that." He argued.

"I'm just as confused as you." You shrugged out of your best friend's grasp.

"Heeeeey F/N!!!" Luffy called stomping down the stairs, "Can you drop me off at the campus library on your way to work?"

"S-sure ya got 10 minutes to get ready and meet me at the car." You replied screwing your travel lid onto your coffee cup.

Ace just stood in the middle of the kitchen.

"Don't make a big deal out of it. It was nothing." You tapped his cheek and turned for the door stepping out on the porch.

"What happened to Marco?" Pops asked from his seat on the bench swing, "He came out here red as a tomato."

"No idea." You replied coolly before kissing the old man's cheek and hopping down the steps, "Have a great day pops!"

"You too." He called back. 

[totally-original-artist]

High school Solangelo

OK this is the least embarrassing one @shuriiiewrites full credits to 14 year old me

===================================================

I let out a yawn as I stepped out of the car.

“Stay safe William!” My aunt shouted from the driver’s seat. I gave her a reassuring smile and walked off to my house. I could feel my leg muscles aching as I got ready for bed. Today had been a busy day. A huge ten day carnival has opened up a few kilometers away from my house and since Aunt Artemis just so happened to be around she decided to bring me along with her. My siblings were supposed to come along as well but none of them seemed too interested in it as it seemed ‘childish’ to them. I wasn’t going to go either, but it would’ve been rude to refuse her offer. I flopped onto my bed and tried to fall asleep but my body was way too numb. And so, I stayed awake the whole night, my next day at school completely doomed.

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

“Are you sure you’re OK? You look like you’re gonna pass out any second now.” Nico asked me for the tenth time. I appreciated the fact that he cared about me but I was already five minutes late for my global perspective class.

“Yeah, I seriously need to go now, don’t you have art?” I tried to walk around him but he blocked my way once more.

“I’m already done with my prep 2, so it doesn’t matter. We’re going to the nurse’s office unless you explain.” He crossed his arms and stared me down, which would’ve been scary if it wasn’t for the fact that he was actually looking up. I let out a sigh.

“A carnival opened up a few miles away from my house, my aunt took me there yesterday and we only came back at ten.” He raised an eyebrow at that.

“What if you come back to school tomorrow in the same state? Exams are coming up, are you really planning on doing last minute revision? And don’t even think about pulling an all-nighter.” I was starting to get annoyed, at this rate I would get detention.

“Well then why don’t you come along to make sure I don’t kill myself?” I said in an exasperated tone.

“Sure, it’s a date then.” Then the little turd had the decency to look smug while he turned and walked away from me.

I got to class fifteen minutes late but there was a substitute teacher so he didn’t give me detention.

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

I was lying on the couch reading a book called ‘Eragon’ when I heard the bell ring. 

“Hey Will! Can you get that for me?” shouted Lee from the kitchen. I tore off a little piece of newspaper and used it as a bookmark. As I went to the door I peeked through the peephole to see who it was. Instead of finding a person standing on the other side I saw the colour brown. The same colour as Nico’s eyes. A small grin made its way to my face as I opened the door. There he stood, dressed in a red shirt with two white stripes down below the arms. He was wearing black leggings and a red checkered shirt around his waist.

“Hey sleeping beauty” Nico said as he gave me a peck on the cheek.

“Hey Prince Charming. You’re a little late today.” I chuckled as I kissed his forehead.

“Got caught up with fighting a dragon. I got some of its blood though.” He pulled out a bottle of red liquid that was most probably Gatorade and handed it to me. “It’s Gatorade actually, just in case you decide a take a little nap and never wake up again.” I took it from him with a thanks. 

“Aunt Artemis is out dropping Kayla to her guitar lessons, she should be back soon. In the meantime I’d like to beat you in a game of speed drifters.” I said as I booped his nose with my index finger.

“In your dreams sunshine.” He stuck his tongue out and walked in like it was his own house. And from how much time he spends here it might as well be.

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

[maatryoshkaa]

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

[soulmate-game]

Well, here is the stupid thing I was alluding to. It’s mostly a filler chapter, but yeah.

Harley’s Plea for Help, Chapter 3

“Well, that took a while,” a relatively deep female voice smoothly drawled. The plants placed right next to the window pulled away, no longer blocking the pathway inside. The two figures who were perched right outside the windowsill took the invitation and climbed inside, the shorter of the two looking at the woman who had spoken and smiling widely.

“Auntie Ivy!” Marinette happily exclaimed, making the redhead across from her grin back.

“That’s me. It sure is nice to actually see you in person, little Marigold,” she held out her arms for a hug, which Marinette instantly ran in to accept. “Video calls are never quite enough, are they? You’re so tiny! Are you sure you eat alright?”

“Auntie Ivyyyyyy,” Marinette whined, knowing full well that Ivy was just teasing her.

“So, what took you all so long?” Ivy asked Red Hood, even as she kept her arms wrapped around her soon-to-be daughter in law. “Usually you bats are all about getting back on the streets to punch people, we didn’t think you’d be bringing her in at almost one in the morning.”

Hood shrugged, thumbs hooked in his pockets. “Your little garden fairy nearly gave us the slip. Went straight out the back exit instead of doin’ anything showy like we half expected and we almost missed her.”

“I stopped as soon as I noticed who they were, I swear!” Marinette pulled away from Ivy, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t expect Momma to send them to babysit me before our first full day being in Gotham. In hindsight, though, I really should have.”

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Ivy agreed with a smirk, ruffling Marinette’s hair and making her pigtails go a little crooked. “And I know for a fact that you’ve done some stunts off your balcony back in Paris, so at least I know you can be responsible and hold yourself back from doing the same here. Must get that from me, because we both know it doesn’t come from Harley.”

Marinette and Hood both had to laugh at that. Being responsible was definitely not a trait that Marinette could have inherited from anybody in her family tree, that was for sure.

“Are ya makin’ fun of me in front of my daughter?” the comically scandalized voice announced the arrival of one Harley Quinn, who walked into the room in white onesie pajamas with a poker print on them. All of the “joker” cards were crossed out heavily with red sharpie, and a few of them had black-sharpie devil horns and handlebar mustaches vandalizing them. Marinette even caught one such card with a googly eye on it, the matching eye having fallen off and leaving only a small circle of since-dried hot glue where it used to be. “If you guys are gonna be that way, fine! Ivy dyes her hair!”

“No she doesn’t,” Marinette deadpanned, clearly fighting against a giant grin. The corners of her lips gave her away, they never stopped twitching with repressed mirth. “But you do. I got the pictures to prove—- aah!” Harley tackled her daughter to the ground, attacking her with tickles immediately.

“Take it back! My hair is naturally blond!”

“Yeah, naturally— hahahahaha! Sandy blonde! You— hahaha! Have just as much brown— stop I can’t breathe! hahahaha!— as yellow!”

“Hmph,” Harley finally backed off, crossing her eyes and looking away from Marinette with an exaggerated pout. “How dare you reveal my darkest secret?”

“I was a natural redhead even before I got my powers,” was all Ivy had to say, looking all too amused at this turn of events. “Your original costume completely covered your hair.”

“Don’t worry, Harley,” Red Hood butted in, reminding the three girls that he was still here. His tone suggested that he was definitely smiling under his helmet. “We found out about your hair dye years ago.”

“I just cover up the brown parts! It’s not like I’m changin’ much,” she argued before standing up again. “Thanks for gettin’ my cupcake back safely, little birdie. Oh, that's right! I made cupcakes! Hang on, lemme grab one for your trip back!” with that, she span on her heels and ran back further into the apartment. Marinette dashed over to Hood, immediately shoving him to the window.

“Quick, save yourself! Momma can’t bake for her life!” she whispered urgently. “I’ll say you were called away for an emergency, just hurry!”

“It’s not even a lie, getting away from Harley’s baking is an emergency,” Ivy agreed, waving as the vigilante took their advice and fled. It was only three seconds later that Harley slid back into the room, nearly falling due to the feet of her onesie having pretty much zero friction. Her face immediately fell when she saw that her victim was gone, leaving her standing there with a cupcake that was about twice as much frosting as actual cake, covered in sprinkles like a kid’s craft project that was smothered in glitter. The frosting was also shapeless, just heaped on the cake like a half-melted scoop of ice cream. She sighed in despair.

“There goes my chance of giving a bat diabetes. You guys warned him, didn’t ya?”

They both nodded shamelessly. “We’re not that cruel, Harley,” Ivy defended, getting up from her spot on her cushioned armchair and wrapping an arm around her fiance’s waist before she kissed the top of her head gently. “Hood got our little Marigold back safe and sound, and he’s even started a garden at his apartment. He doesn’t deserve to be poisoned by you.”

“I thought you said he got a single cactus at the flea market last month,” Harley deadpanned, making Ivy shrug.

“Might as well be a garden for him, and it’s something he’s not likely to kill so that’s a plus to me. He’s actually taking really good care of the little baby.”

“Speaking of garden!” Marinette gently took the sad excuse of a pastry away from her mom and sat it down on a side table before ushering both of them over to the living room and onto the sofa. “My garden back home is growing so big, I don’t think I can keep everything much longer. I barely have room to walk on the terrace, with all the vines and leaves and branches. Got any ideas of what I can do?”

“Of course! Do you have pictures, Marigold?”

—*—*—*—*—*

Slipping back through her hotel window at six in the morning was risky, since it involved climbing the wall and hoping nobody saw, but her classmates were so unpredictable that it was the only way she could be sure nobody would find out that she had violated curfew and snuck out. Of course, having Red Robin waiting outside her mom’s apartment’s terrace to escort her back helped. At least she knew that no street cams would record her comings or goings, and his grappling hook made the whole scale-the-hotel-wall business much more efficient.

Once she was inside, she sighed happily. “Thanks, now—“ her apology was cut off as Red Robin held up a finger to tell her to wait.

“Hold that thought, be right back. Don’t move.”

Thinking, rightfully, that something was wrong, Marinette obeyed. She watched Red Robin leap off of her hotel balcony and disappear into the streets. Immediately, she began a search to make sure her room had been left untampered— everything important had been packed in the backpack that she had taken to her mom’s place, but still. Could never be too careful. By the time she finished checking for bugs or any signs of snooping, Red Robin landed back on her balcony.

“Here we go.”

Turning to face him, Marinette opened her mouth to ask what the problem had been— only to tear up a little and walk over to the vigilante.

“Oh, my hero. Truly, my one and only savior. Knight in shining red Kevlar. I’m running on two hours of sleep and you have read my mind!” The pigtailed drama queen eagerly took the coffee that he offered her, and he sipped from a larger cup that looked like he had grabbed it from the same place. Marinette almost instantly sighed in gratitude when the hot drink lightly scalded her tongue. This. This was the elixir of life.

To his credit, Red Robin was able to restrain himself to merely an amused smirk. Probably because he was running on just as little sleep as she was. “Sorry it’s only a small, I figured it was best to have something you could finish quickly and easily hide the evidence for. If you need more caffeine, I happen to know that Wayne Enterprises has a very good coffee shop in their main hall. You’ll be touring there today, right?” He asked, taking another sip as he waited for the answer that he already knew.

Marinette nodded absently, drinking in the euphoria of her coffee as she tried to both savor it yet finish it as quickly as safely possible. When she came up for air, she said; “Yeah, that’s right. We’re touring Wayne Enterprises for most of the day, having lunch there, and leaving for dinner after the tour. Then we have a visit to the Gotham Museum of Fine Art, and we’ll stay there until about eight-thirty before heading back to the hotel.”

Red Robin nodded, then turned and looked out the window at the slowly rising sun. Sunrise was always a bit later in Gotham, partly because of the abundance of high-rises and partly because of the thick cloud cover and ever-present fog on the edges of the city making everything seem darker than it should have been. He had to be at work soon himself, which is why he had been chosen to escort her to the hotel in the first place, but that meant that he had to be heading off.

“Alright. We arranged for a bodyguard we trust to keep an eye on your class during the WE tour, but he doesn't know who you are or that we’re the ones who asked. We’re still in the process of arranging someone to shadow you after the tour, but we’ll tell you about that once it’s solidified. Until then, follow the usual self-defense procedures if you suspect anyone of following you. You have the panic button we gave you?”

Marinette nodded, gulping down the last of her coffee and carefully putting it in her room’s tiny trash can. “Got it. Thanks, again. Seriously,” she met his eyes— or, probably did since they were hidden behind that weird white film that the whole Batfam had covering the eyeholes of their masks. “I mean it. For listening to me, for listening to Mom. It means a lot. I’ll keep the panic button on me, and I’ll use it if I think I can’t handle a situation on my own. I’ll cooperate with the people you get to watch over the class, and I’ll do my best to not get into any trouble. No promises, but I’ll do my best,” she maintained eye contact until Red Robin nodded, hiding his expression behind his coffee cup. After a second, he cleared his throat.

“Well then. We’ll contact you once we have anything to say about your intel. Until then, I gotta go. And by the way?”

Marinette tilted her head curiously as Red Robin paused for just a moment on her balcony railing, aiming a smirk back at her. “Yeah?”

“Welcome to Gotham.”

And if she couldn’t help but smile widely as he grappled off into the fog-veiled sunrise? Well, only she had to know. She wasted no time closing and locking the glass balcony door, and pulling the curtains over it completely. Once that was done, she couldn’t help but do a little shimmy of Joy. She was caffeinated, she met Auntie Ivy in person for the first time, she got to sleep next to her momma— and she was in Gotham! Technically her hometown— or town she was conceived in? Didn’t matter. Point was, even with the chaos and dark energy clouding the very air, she couldn’t help but feel like she belonged in that city. Like that was where she was always meant to end up, where she could thrive and the environment that she was made to thrive in. The environment that she was born to start fixing.

She beamed at herself in her bathroom mirror as she gave herself one more once-over. Yeah, so far her visit to Gotham was going much better than she could have hoped. Now, she just had to make sure it stayed that way.

Three businesslike raps sounded against the door to her room, just in time for Marinette to feed Tikki one more cookie and straighten her purse on her shoulder. Madame Mendelieve’s voice called out from the other side of the door in her usual no-nonsense bark;

“Dupain-Cheng! Room check! It’s time to get up, we’re meeting down in the lobby in ten minutes.”

Marinette ran up to the door, not quite able to contain her energy, and swung it open with her trademark large, beaming smile.

“Way ahead of you, Madame Mendelieve!”

Her science teacher blinked, adjusting her glasses on her nose as if she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing.

“Ah. You’re already awake and ready?”

Marinette giggled and nodded. “Yup! I was so excited for the tour that I could barely sleep! Does the hotel breakfast include free coffee?”

—*—*—*—*—*

The hotel breakfast did, in fact, include coffee. What it did not include, however, was free coffee that Marinette could reasonably stomach. Especially after the heaven in a cup that Red Robin had gotten for her earlier, the watered down motor oil in the hotel lobby had been unbearable. She had barely managed two sips before regretfully throwing the rest away. Which is what brought her to stand in line at the very same coffee shop that Red Robin had mentioned was in the main hall of Wayne Enterprises, as the rest of her class mingled and waited for their teachers to check their tour group in and their tour guide to arrive.

“Hmm. Sorry, this is my first time ordering here,” she apologized when she reached the counter, gaining a slight lopsided grin from the barista at the register. “Um, I usually like strong coffee, with a lot of caffeine, but I also like something sweet. I don’t need anything too complicated though, do you have any recommendations?”

The barista gave her a customer service smile that seemed just a tad softer at the edges than usual. “Sure! So, we can add an extra shot or two of espresso to any of our drinks, to make it stronger and give it an extra kick. If you’re looking for good sweet flavors, the classics are our white chocolate or caramel. But we also have a seasonal syrup right now that I personally love, which is our cinnamon butterscotch. Did you wanna try that?”

Marinette smiled widely. “That sounds delicious! Then, if I could have your largest size café latte, hot, with… two extra shots and that syrup? Does that sound good?”

The barista actually let loose a soft laugh, already keying in the order. “If you’re a coffee lover and a sweet tooth at the same time, then you’ll love it. If not, come back during your tour’s lunch break and I’ll make you something else.”

Marinette made a little more small talk as she handed over the proper cash for the order, and grabbed her drink after just another minute’s wait. She turned around, taking a sip of the unsurprisingly heavenly coffee and started off to join her class.

Only to realize none of them were where she had left them. She sighed, starting to reach into her purse to see if anyone had texted her about where they were going, but a heavy presence stopped her. She could feel him approaching from in front of her, slightly to her right, but she couldn’t hear him at all. On guard, she straightened up and turned to observe the potential threat.

A security guard. Marinette blinked, running over what she had been told earlier that morning. Was he..?

He seemed to notice her instinctually defensive posture because he raised his hands to show he meant no harm. “Sorry, didn’t mean to catch you off guard,” he apologized. “I’m the guard that was assigned to your tour group. I offered to stay behind until you got your coffee while the rest of your group went ahead and got the run-down on all the boring rules and whatnot of the tour. Figured you’d already know everything they had to say anyway, you’re the class president right?”

Marinette relaxed her posture, nodding and sending the man a relieved smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Well, that explains why they left without me then. Usually Madame Mendelieve is strict about following rules though, how’d you convince her to go on without me?”

The man chuckled, jerking his head to show that she should follow him as he began to lead the way to a side door. Marinette kept her guard up just in case, but wasn’t too worried. If nothing else, she was still in the middle of a super crowded building and the other security guards around didn’t seem concerned. She could easily yell for help if she needed to.

“Well, can’t you tell it was my devilish charm?” He teased, grinning. He waited until she rolled her eyes to continue; “but really, I’m like a second tour guide. She made me show a lotta proof that I’m actually assigned to you guys and not just faking it, not that I can blame her. Eventually she saw the logic in my suggestion and agreed. See, there they are,” he pointed casually ahead of them in the large side hallway they had entered. Sure enough, near the end of the hallway was her class at what looked to be the tail-end of a standard rules-and-guidelines speech from the tour guide. “By the way,” the guard spoke up again, holding his hand out. “My name’s Jason. You’ll be seeing me more often, since I’m supposed to guard you guys for all of your visits to the Tower. Call me if you need help with anything, ‘kay kid?”

Marinette grinned, now positive that this guy really was the guard that Red Robin had said was assigned to her class. She switched the hand she was holding her coffee in so that she could properly grab Jason’s hand for a shake.

“Got it, Monsieur Jason. Let’s both hope I don’t end up needing your help though, I think that would be easier on both of us,” she joked, earning a chuckle from the large man. And— yeah, now that she was relaxed, he really was big, wasn’t he? Then again, Marinette didn’t always realize when people were a bit larger or more buff than they should be. Living with her dad had seriously skewed her perception of the normal size of an adult male (which, she learned when she was seven, most definitely was not almost seven feet tall and muscled enough to make a pro wrestler jealous). But she would like to think she had gotten better in that aspect, and Jason was definitely a big guy. A little over six feet tall, she thought, and though the guard outfit hid a good portion of his physique, she could tell he carried enough muscle to do serious damage if he wanted to.

With a wave, she left him to join her class and sipped at her latte. She had figured that the Bat Clan’s criteria for civilians that they would put to guard her class had to be high, but now she had to wonder just how high. Most police officers or security guards were fit, sure, but not like Jason. Casting a quick glance back at him, she confirmed that he had quite a few faded but visible scars. Again, more than your average officer even for Gotham. Who had they tasked with her class’ safety, exactly?

An elbow in her side distracted her from her thoughts, forcing her to blink and stop her cup from going back to her lips. The grin of none other than Adrien Agreste greeted her when she snapped out of her own head long enough to pay attention to her surroundings. He jerked his head to indicate that the class was already starting to move off.

“Come on, Mari or you’ll get left behind again,” he teased. She grinned back at him, rolling her eyes but falling into step beside him as they followed at the back of their class. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were gonna marry that coffee. You haven’t zoned out that badly in years,” his tone was light and cheery, but Marinette didn’t miss the concern in his emerald eyes. She sighed, gently bumping her shoulders against his in silent reassurance.

“I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all. But this really is good coffee. Elixir of the gods,” then, just to provoke him, she took a giant gulp of the still steaming hot drink. Adrien grimaced in pained sympathy even though Marinette didn’t seem affected at all.

“Oww, Marineeeeeeeeeette,” he whined. “Don’t do that, my throat hurts just watching you guzzle hot coffee like that,” he complained, rubbing at his neck to make his point clear.

“Wimp,” she teased, unrepentant. Adrien just groaned dramatically.

“I’m not a wimp, you’re just concerningly used to burning your throat from the inside out,” he accused. “Anyway, how’d it go?” He was being deliberately vague, but it was obvious to her what he meant. He was only one she had told about visiting her mom, after all, just in case she needed a quick getaway.

In fact, he was the only one of her friends that she had even told about her biological parents. Alix knew too, but only because of time shenanigans. Marinette was fine with it now, but still.

“It went great,” she smiled widely at him, keeping her voice low but casual. “If I have a chance, I’ll introduce you sometime during the trip. I have a feeling you’ll love Auntie Selina, but I have to meet her first. All I have so far are stories.”

“Fair enough,” Adrien agreed easily. “But you don’t have to, you know that right? I’d love to meet your family, but I’m also fine just being your pseudo-brother like I have been up until now. I know it might be a bit… uncomfortable, for you.”

“Nah,” Marinette shrugged. “Nerve wracking, maybe. But that’s also about half the things that I do in my life period, anxiety is no joke. I’ll catastrophize for a while, but I know you’ll love them and they’ll love you.”

“Sounds like they have paw-some taste,” he didn’t even miss a beat with his puns, earning a playful glare for his efforts.

“Never mind. You’re a heathen. Disowned. Who are you?”

“Mariiiiii,” he whined, causing them both to laugh for a while before focusing on the tour.

So far, so good, Marinette thought.

—*—*—*—*—*

Part 1 Part 2

@emotionalsupportginger @alysrose-starchild @emistar0 @kibastray @justanotherfanficlovinbitch @alyssadeliv @blackroserelina @blackstarlight-co @readingalldaysleepingallnight @maanae @aespades @jaybird-and-co @fleursroses @probably-a-hologram @misterpianoman @deathssilentapproach-blog @user00000003 @frieddonutsweets @blur-of-colours @prettylittlebutterflie @ladyqnoirr @a-star-with-a-human-name @mizzy-pop @laurcad123 @dorkus-minimus @chocolatecatstheron @tazanna-blythe @golden-promises @literaryhiraeth @asrainterstellar @hewantedbeefintheparkinglot @miraculous-trinity-leo @missanalysis @lovelyautumnsunflower @lolieg @ann0631 @whitetiger1249 @meow-now @toodaloo-kangaroo

[saurexhas]

Love is Blind - Part 1

So I’ve been hanging out with @studionovella​ and the team for @nightmare-castle​, and the sheer talent in their discord server is so amazing. It led me to be inspired, and while I’m typically more of a Sanscest writer, I figured that it’d be fun to try something new considering the source of my inspiration! So have some Nightmare x MC (Nightmare x Reader).

Be warned, this story handles blindness and... probably some other sensitive topics considering it’s me. So just watch the tags for any relevant triggers!

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You didn’t think that it was possible, but somehow you had fallen for Nightmare. On the surface he was cold, cruel, and calculating, using everyone he could to advance his goals. But if you could tolerate the coldness, get past his clinical treatment of those he believed were beneath him, then there was so much more to him. Nightmare was a scholar, a brilliant mind with a vision for a world all his own. He appreciated the arts, often enjoying his downtime with a good book and a calming cup of tea. And believe it or not, there was a small part of him that genuinely cared for the skeletons under his charge. You’ve seen that side of him more than most, managing to open even his eye to what was hidden beneath the centuries of anger and hatred.

Even if negativity was still a large part of who he was, you found yourself able to accept that darkness, because it only made the small lights within him shine brighter. Just like the stars the two of you were gazing at. Though as your gaze shifted to the skeleton currently dominating your thoughts, you found that piercing cyan eye of his locked onto you instead of the sky. If there was ever any doubt in your mind that your feelings were reciprocated, one look at his gaze would sweep it all away. There was a tenderness to him, reserved only for you as he would say. It was only in these moments where the two of you were alone that he would let his imposing demeanor slide.

Getting moments to yourselves was easier said than done though. Despite the sheer size of the castle, the others always seemed to be around. They knew how Nightmare favoured you, how he treated you special and wasn’t as harsh. You were pretty sure that they’d managed to piece everything together on their own, even if none of them ever said anything for fear of angering their king. That said, some of them, namely Killer, seemed to delight in getting in the way of your fleeting moments alone. And there was always no shortage of work to be done, not when your partner was as ambitious as he was. Nightmare aimed to create an empire, and you were doing what you could to further his goals. Even if all that work and Killer’s interference left you and Nightmare fleeing to other worlds in order to have some semblance of a relationship.

Outertale was a favourite destination of yours, the beauty of the cosmos always taking your breath away. It always seemed so far removed from the chaos of the multiverse, or the chaos of the castle.The peace and quiet out here made it perfect for when both you and your partner just needed a break. You could stand out here for hours, watching the subtle shifts in the sky or mapping constellations.

But for now, you were seemingly locked in a staring contest with the lord of darkness, neither willing to look away or break the silence that had fallen. Unsure of what to do, you simply reached out with your finger and booped the tip of his nose. The look of utter surprise on his face left you giggling, only for his own rich laughter to mingle with yours.

“You dare to lay a hand on the God of Negativity, hmm?” He teased, pulling you close with his tentacles before wrapping his arms around your waist. “You are either very brave or very foolish… maybe a bit of both. How shall I deal with your crime, my little moon?”

You couldn’t help but swoon a bit at the pet name he called you, grinning up at him like a fool as you took advantage of the close proximity to snuggle close. “I could swear my love to you, would that appease the great Nightmare?”

“Perhaps,” he chuckled, the distance closing between the two of you even further as he ducked his head down to be level with your own. Nightmare opened his mouth, perhaps to say something else or to move in for the kiss you were anticipating. Before either option could happen though, the dark skeleton froze for a split second. There wasn’t even time to ask what was wrong before you found yourself hefted into his arms, the two of you dodging a volley of bright blue arrows that had speared where you’d been moments ago.

Your heart hammered in your throat, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you tried to get a grip on what was happening. Nightmare still had you cradled to his chest, dodging arrows and… was that paint? Following the paint’s trajectory, you could see your partner’s enemies had managed to crash your little date.

The Star Sanses stood on the other end of the floating chunk of rock you were on, the portal they’d used to arrive closing behind them. Blue was just coming through the portal, his gaster blaster hammer in his grip. Dream had another arrow ready to fire, though he hesitated upon seeing you staring back at him. Ink on the other hand wasted no time in splattering more of his paints everywhere, a tentacle raising to block you from the oncoming attack. The paint hissed and fizzled on contact, a growl leaving Nightmare as he jumped to another nearby rock to escape the barrage.

“Night, are you okay?!” You look up to see him trying to hide his pain, showing you that those paints are far more than something to be smeared on a piece of paper. While you’d heard stories from the others about the chaotic creator, you’d never met him in person or seen him fight. Seeing that paint flying towards you was way scarier than the guys’ stories had led you to believe.

“I’ll be fine,” Nightmare insisted as he set you down, even if you knew that attack hurt. “Look, you need to remain here where you’ll be safe. I don’t care what kind of training you’ve been partaking in with the others; I refuse to let you endanger yourself by fighting them. Ink especially is dangerous, keep away from him at all costs. If you cannot dodge his attacks, make sure to shield your face. His paint can burn like acid if he wishes, and while liquid negativity protects my body, you have no such defenses. Give me your word that you will remain safe while I deal with these pests.”

As much as you wanted to argue that you could help, even you couldn’t muster the confidence to speak against him with such a stern glare directed at you. It was clear that Nightmare wouldn’t take no for an answer on this one, so you had no choice but to nod your head meekly. “I-I’ll stay here,” you promised, glancing up to see him seemingly satisfied. Without another word, he rushed off, preventing Blue from getting any closer with his large hammer.

Watching Nightmare take on all three of the Star Sanses by himself was both awe-inspiring and terrifying, much like the first times you’d joined sparring sessions with the guys. But there wasn’t the assurance in the back of your mind that nobody would be out to kill you. While it might not be the goals of all of the Stars, there was very much mortal danger in this fight for both you and the one you loved. Staying on the sidelines like this was painful, leaving you feeling useless as Nightmare struggled to hold off the onslaught.

Were they not essentially your enemies, you’d be impressed by the coordination and teamwork the Stars possessed. All three of them were capable of both melee and ranged attacks, and wordlessly organized themselves so that one of their own was never in danger of being hit by their own attacks. Dream’s precision with his arrows allowed him to stay primarily a ranged fighter, while Blue’s blasters and Ink’s attacks were a bit too widespread to risk while one of them fought in close combat. Nightmare was the only one without a specific ranged attack, which probably explained why the others rarely got close to attack. Your lover’s tentacles gave him reach though, and the ability to hit multiple targets at once, so he was somehow able to hold his own against all three.

The battle looked to be a stalemate… until one of the Stars suddenly switched tactics. While Blue rushed in with a hammer and bones at his side, Ink actually turned his back on the fight. He seemed a little lost, like he was trying to remember something, only for his eyes to light up as he locked gazes with you. Instant panic seized you as the one skeleton that Nightmare warned you about came straight for you, manic glee plastered over his face as he quickly crossed the distance between the two of you. A glance back at the battle proved that Nightmare had seen what was going on, but Blue was keeping him from coming to your aid. So it was up to you to think fast and avoid the creator, hope bubbling in you that this might actually make things easier. If you could keep Ink busy by dodging his attacks, then Nightmare might be able to take on the remaining two with better success before coming after Ink.

With this admittedly crazy plan in your head, you began a game of cat and mouse with Ink, jumping from one place to the next. If you didn’t have a splash-happy maniac chasing you, it would’ve been cool to enjoy the low gravity of Outertale. For now though, it was all that was allowing you to escape most of the attacks directed at you. You were far from unscathed though, small splashes of paint eating away at your arms and legs. It burned, but was nothing you couldn’t deal with as you continued to dodge and weave the bulk of the attacks. So long as none of it touched your face, you would be fine.

Glancing back at the main battle going on, your hopes of Nightmare doing better against two targets instead of three were steadily being crushed. He seemed distracted, constantly looking up to watch you kite Ink around the area. Instead of focusing on the two he had to deal with, he was so worried about you and Ink that he was now losing. It wouldn’t be so bad if he was facing off against Ink and Blue, because there was little the two could do beyond superficial damage. Dream on the other hand was still very much a threat, his arrows of pure positivity being about the only thing that could seriously hurt. And you could see several piercing the ground, coated in the black negativity that Nightmare relied on for protection. It was a surefire way to see when he’d been hit, and the staggering amount of these soiled arrows made it clear that your partner wasn’t holding his own anymore. Guilt welled up in you, because you were the reason he was now losing this fight. While there wasn’t much you could honestly do to shake Ink from your trail, reason did little to quell the negativity rising inside you. All you could hope for was that your own despair could give Nightmare just a bit more power, enough to keep himself safe at least.

As time dragged on, both you and Nightmare were running out of stamina. Your legs cried for rest as you continued to run away from the creator, while your lover’s movements were growing noticeably sluggish. More arrows seemed to connect than not at this point, and he had barely any time to recover from one attack before dealing with another. The two of you were badly losing, and it was quite clear now why Nightmare rarely let anyone from the castle venture out on their own.

The Stars seemed to sense this sudden weakness in their target, Dream finally stopping his barrage to call out to the one going after you. “Ink! Stop playing around, I need your help!” Help? What help could Ink possibly be? Even his corrosive paints couldn’t breach the surface of Nightmare’s negativity, the only thing that could was Dream’s… oh… oh no.

As the realization hit you, Ink finally gave up his pursuit. “Woo! Looks like my plan actually worked… at least I think this was my plan. Whatever, let’s do this!” Laughing at some untold joke, Ink hopped away from you to return to the large rock that most of the battle had been on. At the same moment though, you felt your legs moving as the horrific reality of their plan hit you. Ink purposefully went after you to distract Nightmare, allowing the others to weaken him enough so that their special attack would hit. The creator might not be able to damage the surface, but if Dream’s arrow ripped through first, then there’d be a narrow window where Nightmare’s greatest defense would be gone. In a single spot he’d be vulnerable, which is why they needed to slow him down enough to ensure their hit would work.

You weren’t going to let that happen. Promise be damned, your soul was screaming at you to protect the one you loved, and you were going to heed its call. The ache in your legs went completely ignored, adrenaline pushing you forward with more speed than you thought you could muster. You needed to be faster though; Ink was already there, and Blue had set about corralling Nightmare to keep him still.

Only a few floating chunks of rock were between you and your beloved now, but you still weren’t fast enough. Panic rose once again as you watched Dream draw back his bowstring, the arrow glimmering faintly in the surrounding darkness. Ink stood ready beside him, the paint coating his brush a dangerous shade of red. That same paint had left such horrible burns along your limbs, and you could only imagine the damage it might do to the weakened god of negativity. With Blue running interference and drawing Nightmare’s attention, it was only a matter of time now.

As your feet touched down on the large space rock, several feet from everyone else, you knew that you were out of time. Nightmare was too absorbed in his fight to hear your warning calls, and it would only alert the two and likely cause them to reset before trying again. This attack would only work once though, because once Nightmare knew of their plan, he wouldn’t let it work a second time. That meant that you had one chance to stop them, especially when you saw that Dream was aiming towards his twin’s soul.

Courage and determination welled within your soul, driving you forward despite the risk you were running straight into. Any number of things could go seriously wrong, but… you couldn’t risk them killing him. Nightmare was the bane of the multiverse to many, but he was everything to you. Gritting your teeth, you timed your steps so that you’d only enter Dream’s field of vision after he fired, preventing them from stopping you and trying again. The second he saw you, the god of positivity’s expression changed from one of grim determination to one of shock and horror, his hand reaching out as if he could stop his attack or stop you. His hesitance once again wasn’t present in Ink, the creator wasting no time in flinging the red paint directly after the arrow.

With mere seconds to spare, your outstretched hands made contact with the cool goop that covered Nightmare’s body. All of your momentum and might went into a push, knocking the deity away from the incoming attack. Your lover turned back to look at you the second you made contact, his eye conveying the same shock and horror as Dream’s had when he saw you. All you could do was smile, knowing that you’d managed to save him no matter what danger you’d put yourself in. Nightmare reached out for you just as the arrow whizzed past, its trajectory leaving it slicing past your eyes. Pain bloomed as the minor cuts scratched the outsides of your eyes, but it was nothing compared to what came next. You’d been so concerned about the arrow that you temporarily forgot about Ink. His attack followed as per the Stars’ plan, splattering over the both of you with its acidic effect. The scratches to your eyes had left you temporarily blind, so you weren’t able to see that red paint as it splashed all over your face. The last thing you saw was instead Nightmare, reaching out to you as if to save you from this pain.

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First (Here) | Next >

[kodzuvii]

CLUB STUPID [24: yeah probably]

next [25: premarital hand holding]

PAIRING - SUNA x FEM!READER

GENRE - crack + fluff

warnings - spelling and grammar errors lol guys its 1am plz-

SYNOPSIS - Club Stupid, an anonymous podcast meant for the dumb and dumbest to send in unspoken and nonsensical thoughts about issues they face in their day to day lives and for Y/n to speak out and give her opinions and feelings. Normal feelings though, nothing romantic like how she thinks this lazy guy with questionable hair in the volleyball club is actually pretty cute.

a/n: as an executive member and proud representative of the suna simp club (jk lol idk) it is my duty, to keep my simps fed. you’re welcome. please listen to some cute wholesome shit. 

“Look at this Samu, Suna really his own breed, how does he manage to look more dead compared to how he usually looks”

“Well Tsumu, he ignored the same girl twice in the same week and also got confronted by her cousin who’s also his captain. Pretty sad if ya ask me”

The twins snickered to each other as they eyed the quiet middle blocker who stood by his locker. “Did you see his blocks today Tsumu? I was afraid I was gonna break his toothpick arms with my spikes” Osamu whispered but made it loud enough for Suna to hear. Atsumu nodded, “yeah Samu, totally lame if you ask me. Thank God Yn wasn’t watching him” he teased. “Oi,” Aran called out as he packed up his things on his back that was sitting on top of the benches inside of the boy’s change room. “Lay off of him will ya” he scolded but the pair shrugged and continued to change out of their practice clothes. 

“What’s even happening?” Akagi whispered and Riseki could only turn to him and mirror the same lost look on his face and give a clueless shrug. They both just sat back and watched the scene unfold in front of them. The twins were teasing and throwing indirect jabs and insults towards their middle blocker who looked as if he was going through an existential crisis with the dull look in his eyes. 

Suna was quiet, everyone knew that. Yet somehow in some way, everyone could feel his energy hit an all-time low. He still attended practice sure, but it was like practicing with a pole lamp. He just stood there and observed whatever was happening but even then, his mind was somewhere else. Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by the coach who gave him an earful about the proper attitude to be having during their practices. Did he listen though? Nah. Listening to a lecture required too much effort. He was just tired and done for the day and the anxious and nervous feeling bubbling up inside of him wasn't helping either.

Suna was stupid. He knew that. His attention span outside of the court was never the biggest and his lack of energy never helped increase his intelligence. He was never the brightest in his class, and honestly, it never bothered him that he wasn’t. Everything he learned came through one ear and left the other. He retained the information for a test but simply forgot everything once it was over. He wasn’t the brightest, and it didn’t bother him not one bit.

What did bother him was his terrible habit of being oblivious towards other people’s feelings. Maybe it was due to his lack of energy or lack of interest, but he simply never put much effort into acknowledging how people felt. Yeah, he got vibes when people had on and off days, his teammates were the twins, you HAD to notice their mood swings and take necessary precautions. It just never occurred to him that more people could enter his bubble. A bubble that revolved around himself.

However, instead of someone finding a way to enter his fragile bubble without popping it, Suna willingly left his bubble when you came into the picture. It was no secret that Suna was whipped the moment his eyes laid on you. He’s been getting clowned about it ever since the twins found out and they never let a day go by without calling him a simp.

He had no clue what type of person you would be when you entered the doors of the Shiratorizawa gym. You looked sweet and bubbly, the smile you came in with never left your face unless you’d whine to your friends or roll your eyes at them. When you stepped into the room, people just naturally gravitated towards your positive energy and your good vibe. He liked that about you. Then again he still didn’t know anything about you at the time. All he knew was that you managed to attract his attention without even directly giving any to him. Every time he tried to look away and focus on whatever was happening in front of him, his eyes trailed back to you.

For a while after camp, you kept popping back in and out of his mind. It was quite ridiculous actually. He’d be taking a drink by the water fountains and he’d look over to the hallway and suddenly the first thoughts would be ‘what if I saw the redhead again?’ It never lasted long, maybe for a split second or two before he snapped himself out of it. He’d never see you again, what was he talking about? He was just being delusional.

So you could imagine the way his mind stopped functioning the night at the train station. Suna had to pinch himself 8 times when he saw you walk out of the train doors. ‘No way’ he thought. You, out of the 7 billion people in the world, was Kita’s cousin. He remembers seeing your tired face and your short stature clad in a big hoodie and loose sweatpants with your hair tied up. You were supposed to look like a mess, why did he keep thinking that you looked so pretty? This must’ve been the higher power playing a trick on him for slacking off during practice. So annoying.

Suna could keep his cool around school. You weren’t in the same classes meaning he didn’t see you at all. So you could imagine the kind of panic that crossed his mind when Kita told the team that he’d have his cousin staying in the gym. He learned later on that you started watching practices because Kita didn’t feel comfortable with you walking home. You were nice to the team, incredibly nice actually. Your easy-going nature made it easy for you to have a couple of conversations with his teammates here and there. While you were nice to Aran and Akagi, you had a little feisty attitude with the twins (mainly Atsumu) and he couldn’t help but admire how outspoken you were. You were blunt, to say the least. That was something you and Kita had in common. But he liked that about you, how you were always free to speak whatever was on your mind and keep a conversation going. 

Suna noticed early on that you rarely paid attention to their practice. He figured volleyball just wasn’t your thing and he couldn’t blame you for that. During water breaks, he’d glance up and watch you tuck back your hair and sometimes he’d catch you scratching your temple in annoyance because of some question you couldn’t answer on your homework. You never looked up, simply unphased by whatever was happening in front of you. 

Even so, he still put the smallest amount of extra effort into his practices. Jumping a bit higher and running a bit faster and spiking the ball with more force. He insisted that it was about time he would break some of his bad habits, but even the team knew that it was a sorry excuse. Truth be told, a little part of him was just hoping that if you ever looked up from your phone or your work in your lap, you’d see him and think that he looked at least a little bit cool. 

One day, on the rare occasion that he’d be listening in class, he remembers his teacher having a discussion with the class about an epiphany. 

The feeling of a sudden or striking realization that hits an individual out of nowhere.

It was late at night where Suna hit an epiphany. You were off to Miyagi, spending your weekend with your best friend and the Twins continued to bug him about his little first-year crush even though he had asked them multiple times to drop the topic. 

Suna came to the conclusion that he liked the way you made him feel. He liked the way he felt at ease when you were around him. He liked how you were so different compared to him, but it never stopped you from forming a friendship with him. You never pushed him to ever open up to you, you listened to the bare minimum he had to say and never took his lazy nature and blunt attitude to heart. He liked annoying you, the way your face would scrunch up when he’d take your bento’s the first couple times during your first initial lunch hangouts or the way you’d puff your cheeks when he comments on your height. He liked the way your eyes lit up when the smallest things caught your attention. He took notes on the songs you said you were currently listening too or the ones that reminded you about happy memories. 

Suna especially liked seeing you smile. Especially towards him. Something about it gave him the same feeling that was comparable to the way he would feel when he would see those jelly sticks on sale at the grocery store. The way you’d roll your eyes in playful annoyance when he'd come up to you and ask to bandage his fingers even though you both knew that he was capable of doing it himself. You would tease him, a playful smile gracing upon your lips, telling him that his fingers would probably break off if you weren’t there to bandage them up. Suna liked thinking that having you wrap them up made his hands feel a bit stronger with his blocks. But you didn’t need to know that.

He remembers a specific memory that lives rent-free in his mind. He was walking down the hallway, casually strolling and taking his time to get back to class after using the bathroom and he happened to notice you heaving a tired sigh as you closed the doors to your class. You looked quite frustrated, probably because it was your art class and you had been complaining days earlier about how creatively drained you were.

 Suna must’ve been looking at you for a moment too long because the moment your eyes met, he felt something tug at his chest by the way your eyes sparkled at the sight of him. Despite being under a little bit of stress, the same smile he grew to enjoy seeing made its way onto your lips and you waved to him excitedly before running up and rambling off about how much your class was pissing you off.

You two eventually got in trouble for skipping the whole period after being too caught up in your conversation. Suna thought it was worth it though.

After scrolling through his phone, listening to Atsumu’s obnoxious lovey-dovey playlist, and inevitably searching “how to know if you like or like like a girl” (there's a difference, he swears) on google. 

He came to his epiphany.

 Maybe before, when he barely knew you and you never knew him, maybe he was just infatuated with the idea of you. 

But it was different now, He liked you.

And that scared him.

It scared him how vulnerable he felt. Suna’s reserved and quiet nature gave him a hard time to open to others. Not that he really cared if he was being honest. He simply had the mindset that no one needed to know everything there was to his existence. Everyone eventually leaves anyways, what was the point?

When it sank into him that he liked you, it confused him endlessly. You never wanted to get out of his head and sooner or later he found himself doing the smallest things for you. The little black silk band was always on his wrist and if it wasn’t on his wrist, it would be tucked away in his pockets. Not to mention that he kept one in his pencil case for good measure. The bandaids inside in his backpack were sealed away in a ziplock bag just in case you ever got hurt because he knew you were a bit clumsy. He found himself keeping his eyes open for little souvenirs and trinkets that looked like something that you’d like wherever he went. 

At first, he thought that he just wanted to upgrade you from friend to best friend. Maybe this was a friendship that he had just been deprived of since his world revolved around constantly meaning to improve in volleyball. Yes, he did find comfort in the friendship he grew with you, but sooner or later he realized that he wanted more. The thoughts of holding your hand slipped into his mind and sooner or later hugging you from behind and resting his head on top yours flowed in followed by taking you back by peppering your smooth and soft cheeks with kisses. That wasn’t something that best friends did.

Kita was right about how his logic of ignoring you to suppress his feelings was stupid and that the worst things that could happen were that he’d get rejected. But he didn’t want to face the chance of him getting rejected, he’d like you for so long and he learned during his time spent away from you that he didn’t want to just stop talking to you. Suna knew himself, if he got rejected then he’d distance himself away from you and never talk to you ever again because the embarrassment would eat him up. 

He didn’t wanna lose you for that. He wasn’t ready. 

What a coward. 

He just really hoped you liked the flowers and read his note, he thought anything was better than a stupid “I’m sorry” text.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“Hurry up, I need to lock up the gym” Kita’s voice echoed throughout the walls as he stepped into the changeroom. Suna looked up from his phone, taking one last glance at your ‘see you soon :P’ text before shutting it off and shoving it into his pockets. As everyone began to leave one-by-one and bid their goodbyes to each other and their captain. The twins however didn’t leave until they both gave Suna a teasing punch on both of his shoulders. Suna only glared at them before proceeding to make his exit as well. 

Kita stopped Suna before he could exit and the look on his face seemed rather serious. With his voice low, Kita simply said “She needs to be back by 7. If she comes home hurt in any way, I’m benching you” he said sternly and that was enough for him to feel his skin crawl under his tracksuit jacket. Suna nodded, understanding that he really wasn’t kidding and that he definitely bench him. 

Kita turned around and opened the door for them both to leave the changerooms. They walked together side-by-side and from a distance, he could see your short figure walking up to both of them. You looked different today, your hair was sitting on your shoulders and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses he was yet to see was sitting on the bridge of your nose. You were clad in your uniform with an oversized pink knit cardigan overtop. Was that a new cardigan you were wearing? He’s never seen it before either. 

Kita smiled at the sight of you skipping up to them and he watched you two exchange high fives and he gave you a brief little speech about staying late. You nodded along and Suna stood by and watched Kita ruffle your hair making you whine cutely. 

He wanted to do that.

You waved goodbye to your cousin and Kita looked at Suna and gave him a firm nod before turning back and making his way towards the gym doors. You turned back and faced Suna, your hands behind your back as you made your way towards him with a warm smile. “Hey there” you greeted and stood in front of him, looking up so you could look at him clearly. Suna couldn’t help but look at you weirdly, why were you acting as nothing happened? Shouldn’t you be upset with him? “Hi, let’s go?” god, why was he so forward. 

You hummed and shook your head, making him furrow his eyebrows in confusion, “do you not wanna go anymore? I can drop you off if you want-” You rolled your eyes, “I don’t see you for a week and you’re already trying to get rid of me?” you questioned and narrowed your eyes at him. Suna felt his heart wrench as your lips pouted. 

He shook his head, “n-no” he stuttered. Your eyes perked up and you watch his cheeks heat up (potentially from embarrassment, but you're not going to assume) and look away. 

You chuckled and grabbed his wrist and pulled him to follow behind you. What made you so bold today? Probably from the unexpected pep talk you had with Goshiki that morning.

“You don’t need him Ln-senpai! If he thinks he can just look over you and all your greatness and beauty and not acknowledge how beautiful you are and how your very presence graces this dull world then send his ass to KFC! You are a woman senpai! A beautiful woman who deserves everything. Not a value menu that has a 20% off discount!”

Did his speech make sense? Sure. You’ll take it over Tendou’s “cut his dick off if he does you dirty queen” text message sent with the confetti effect on imessage followed by a bunch of knife emojis that was honestly more threatening rather than comforting.

You pulled him out of the gym and Shin gave you a look before shaking it off and locking up the gym doors. From the corner of your eyes, you could see the twins sending winks your way before snickering and walking off. You rolled your eyes and stopped when you reached the doors of the school. 

You turned around and faced Suna who looked very lost and confused. “Let’s not go to the convenience store today, let’s go somewhere else,” you say. Suna nodded slowly, “okay? Where do you wanna go?” he asked.

Just then, you lifted up your other hand and it was only then that Suna noticed you carrying a small pink lunch tote. You let go of his wrist and tucked some strands your hair behind you ear, “we haven’t had lunch together in a week and you had a meeting today again so we couldn’t do anything today either and well..” you trailed off and looked up at him and shrugged, “I figured we could make up for lost time” you muttered. 

Suna felt his chest tighten, not only because you were absolutely adorable and it was making him lose his mind, but it almost seemed like you were the one trying to apologize to him when you didn’t do anything wrong. He did.

You frowned as you looked at how subtly his face dropped. As upset as you were, you understood that he wasn’t ready to tell you whatever he was meaning to hide. He wasn’t obligated to tell you anything and you understand that. A small smile creeping up on your lips, “let’s go eat at the park near my house. The one we walk by all the time. Saves you the trouble of worrying if you’re gonna get home on time or not” you laughed slightly.

Suna couldn’t say no to you, so here were the two of you now. Eating and sitting in front of the other with the bento’s you had prepared on the table. The park was as busy as it usually would be during the afternoon. The atmosphere felt warm as the sky was slowly settling into hues of orange with peaks of pink seeping through. Suna watched you happily eat the bento you had prepared and listened attentively as you told him about everything he missed during your week and you did the same when he talked about his. 

A part of him couldn’t help but admire how pretty you looked in front of him. Suna was lying when he told the twins that you were a 7. You were beyond a 7 and beyond whatever scale they had given him. It was a rare sight to see you with your glasses and partnered with that oversized pink cardigan? You were adorable. 

You tilted looked up from your food and stopped mid-sentence when you saw him just look at you with what seemed to be a fond look in his eyes. But you could’ve just been mistaken, maybe you need to have your prescription checked again. “Rin, what’s wrong?” you asked. At the sound of his name, Suna blinked snapped back into reality and was met with your concerned look. “W-what?” You chuckled, “you zoned out Rin, everything okay?” you asked.

Rin.

He liked the way his name rolled off your lips. 

He shook his head, “I’m fine, sorry. This is really good by the way, I didn’t think you could cook” he said as an attempt to change the subject. You rolled your eyes but you looked away. “As much as I want you to believe I’m some great chef, Granny helped me with most of it” you confessed sheepishly. 

He chuckled and poked the sausage that was cut up into a little octopus with his chopsticks, “Well, you did tell me that you burned rice once so maybe I thought too highly of you to make a full meal” he teased. You scoffed and grabbed his bento, “if you’re not gonna appreciate the chef then you don’t deserve the food” you huffed. Suna rolled his eyes and grabbed yours, “guess I’ll have to eat yours then” he said and shoved some rice into his mouth. Your jaw dropped at his actions, “Hey!”

As the day went on, you both began to feel at ease and comfortable once again with each other's presence. The harmony that flowed around between you two was coming back and was settling into its familiar rhythm. You two continued to chat as if nothing happened. Laughing at anything and everything you found remotely hilarious under the sun. Suna felt warm. He was here, with you, and everything felt okay. With both your bento’s empty and tucked neatly away into your lunch bag and the sun settling down and giving a wake-up call for the stars to come out, it was about time for Suna to bring you home.

The walk back to your place was comfortable. There was no tension in the air or any awkwardness in the atmosphere. It was simply peaceful. You were walking beside him and rambling on about something that had happened to you in class that day. It was slightly cooler and the winds were colder and he had noticed early on that you kept pulling at the ends of your cardigan at an attempt to get some more warmth from it. It would’ve just been rude for him to let you be cold, Kita would kill him if you got sick.

It took you by surprise to see Suna slipping off his volleyball jacket and shoving it into your hands. He was wearing a hoodie under it anyway, he didn’t mind. A part of him was just curious about how his jacket would fit you too and what kind of fool would you be to reject an oversized jacket? It was just extra points that happened to be from the boy that you liked.

Suna nodded along to what you were saying, but he couldn’t help the sudden urge to just grab your hand out of his system. You were walking so close to each other. Your shoulders kept brushing past and your hands were right there. 

But with the events that happened this past weekend, he didn’t wanna overstep any boundaries. He was still too cautious that he would mess up and make you upset all over again. With the thought of his actions, Suna suddenly felt a little ball of guilt eat him up. He never stopped feeling bad about what he did. Kita’s words rang through his head, he needed to learn how to communicate better and not deal with everything all on his own. Maybe he really was a coward for letting such a dumb fear eat him up.

In the midst of your talk about how much you despise your math class, you turned to look at Suna and saw how troubled he looked. He didn’t even look like he was listening anymore and seemed to be having some sort of internal battle with himself. 

You furrowed your eyebrows and grabbed his wrist to stop walking. “Rin, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern lacing the tone of your voice. You both never really brought up what had happened. Maybe you were just too caught up in having a good time but you were honestly content with the reasons he gave you. If he wasn’t ready then he wasn’t ready. 

Suna however felt like he owed you so much more than his apology that he already struggled to explain. 

Suna stared down at you for a moment, the unreadable expression on his face that only made you more confused. It was quiet for a moment, the only sound to be heard was the wind blowing by and the trees rustling.

Nothing would have prepared you for the way he turned around and pulled the arm that was holding his wrist and pulling you into his chest. His hands wrapped around your shoulders as he held you just a little bit tighter. He was a bit stiff, but you couldn’t put that against. He wasn’t the type of person to initiate things like this.

“I’m sorry”

Your body froze, something about his tone was different. It was vulnerable.

You stayed quiet, letting yourself relax slowly in his hold.

“F-fuck, I’m really sorry. I said I wasn’t good with words right? S-so I’m trying to explain now because you deserve it but I don’t even know why I did it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset at all, I was just caught up with myself and I didn’t consider what I was doing to you. You didn’t deserve that. I like being around you and I’m sorry” He pulled away and one of his hands dropped to your waist and fiddled with the material of his jacket. You watched as his free hand dug deep into his pockets and you watched him pull something out. 

“It’s kind of pathetic if you ask me and it’s also kind of ugly but-” he grabbed one of your arms and dropped the object into the palms of your hands. Your eyes widened at the little paper craft,

It was an origami strawberry.

It was small, it fit perfectly inside on the palms of your hand. You could see that he struggled with making it. The leaves were slightly bent and the tip of the strawberry was ripping off. There were lots of creases all in the wrong places and even the seeds were drawn on. 

But it still melted your heart. 

“I read somewhere about 1000 paper cranes for a wish and well, cranes are kind of hard and I didn’t have enough paper to make 1000 and-god this is so embarrassing-” he muttered the last part but gained enough courage to look up at you and meet your eyes. Your eyes were soft and patient. “I wished that you wouldn’t hate me. Or that, this wouldn’t y’know...make everything all weird between us. I like you-or well uh- being around you at least and I-I know you joke about it all the time but please don't-” 

Suna paused when he felt you wrap your arms around his waist once again, hugging him back but just a little bit tighter. The small confession not even going through your mind because your attention was too focused on the way his words were making you melt. 

“You’re an idiot” you mumbled into his chest and hugged him a bit tighter. Your words made his stomach drop, but that feeling went away when you pulled back and looked at him with a smile. A smile that said you understood. 

“I’m never gonna force you to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me” You repeated but this time it felt different, it felt warmer. 

“I’m never gonna hate you. I know how you are Rin, you’re not good with your words and I get that. You could've sent me a text but you didn’t. You went out of your way with the flowers and even the little note and this adorable fucking strawberry is more than enough” you laughed but you could feel your eyes watering up slightly with the overwhelming amount of emotions you were feeling all at once. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me okay? I understand. Thank you,” you smiled. Suna stared down at you. Nodding slowly and you chuckled and fell into his arms once again.

This time, he was the one who held you a bit tighter.

“This side of you is cute you know, but It’s kinda ruining your whole tsundere image you’re going for. Bet the twins would make fun of you for being this thoughtful” you whispered jokingly, making him roll his eyes and huff a quiet “shut up” in annoyance. If only you knew the pain he endured for putting up with those twins. 

You both stayed like that for a little while longer. Holding each other and fitting so perfectly in the arms of the other. If it wasn’t for your phone dinging from a text from Shin asking where you were, Suna swore he would have held you there for the whole night. 

You pulled away first and tugged his hand, “come on, Shin wants me home now so let’s get going ‘kay? Don’t want you getting benched the whole season now do we?” you grinned and walked in front of him and tugged him along. 

Somehow in some way, your fingers slipped perfectly into his.

Suna could only feel the warmth rising in his chest, his daze fixed at the sight of his hands interlocked with yours. 

“Oh and Rin” you called out, making him snap back into reality.

Suna hummed, looking right back at you.

“Tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“Text me when you get up in your room safe”

You turned around to him with a quizzical expression before letting out a chuckle, “I’m in front of my house Rin, I got here in one piece” you said and motioned your free hand towards yourself to prove that you were indeed, uninjured. Suna rolled his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek, “you’re clumsy remember, you might fall or something” he muttered and looked away.

You grinned and squeezed his hand, “Awe, look at you caring for me and my wellbeing. My ears might be deceiving me but it sounds like you’re in love with me” you teased and swung your hands together back and forth.

Suna huffed, his mind not properly functioning when the words fell out of his mouth.

“yeah probably”

Simultaneously, his eyes and yours widened and you both froze. 

Both you and Suna blinked at each other twice. Your eyes looked down at your hands that were still interlocked and looked up at his face that was fully drained of any colour. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest and Suna began to question the very point of his existence.

“W-what?”

“Uh-”

“Y-you said-”

“A-ah I-”

“Oi!” you both jumped and instinctively Suna pulled you closer to him. You looked at up him briefly before turning around to see Granny waiting by the gate with an impatient but also teasing glint in her eyes. “It’s almost 7:30 Yn-chan! You almost missed bingo night! Kiss ya little friend goodnight and come in before Shin and I eat all the mochi we left for ya” she called out but you could hear the teasing tone in her voice.

“C-coming!” you yelled back. Your face was piping hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole from the amount of embarrassment and flusteration you were feeling at that moment. 

Granny nodded and walked back inside, and looked up at Shin who was standing with his arms crossed on the porch. Granny walked back to him with a victorious smile on her lips as she gave him a thumbs up. Granny knew what she was doing and she knew what she saw. She’s gonna call and gossip to your mother.

You gulped and took a step back and looked back at Suna. He was still frozen and his mind was racing at what just happened and he too, wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “I-I uh, I guess I gotta go?” you winced, but the tone of your voice made it sound like you were asking a question. Suna nodded, “y-yeah, goodnight I guess” he muttered as he looked away and you watched his face heat up. 

You were both so embarrassed but neither one wanted to let go of the others hand. 

Suna figured he couldn’t keep you out all night and just as he was about to let go of your hand, a sudden wave of confidence went through your veins and you just went ‘fuck it.’

You pulled his arm down towards you taking him back. His eyes widened, “what are you-” you stood slightly on your tippy-toes and kissed his cheek which made him shut up instantly. “That’s for today, thanks. goodbye.” you said frantically. 

Suna froze, too much in shock and his mind was still in the middle of trying to register what just happened and watched as you let go of his hand and covered your face furiously blushing and running off to your gate and slamming it shut.

He stared blankly at the gate door and blinked twice as an attempt to get himself back to reality. He brought his hands up to his cheeks that were on fire. His mind kept replaying the way your soft lips kissed his cheek and could feel the slightest residue of your lip gloss still on his cheek. 

Shit, you really had him wrapped around your finger. 

“Idiot” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

a/n: BYE STOP IM SO SINGLE THIS IS SAD AND I AM DEVASTATED.

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[thetargaryenbride]

A break [Levi x Fem!Reader]

Requested by: @emmaandemmal  Hi, I love your works! Can I request one where Levi and his fem s/o have been a couple since before they were captured by the scouts in the underground? After the deaths of Isabel and Farlan, the reader tries to convince Levi to leave the scouts with her to go and live together in a safer place, but he refuses saying that he believes in Erwin's vision of the scouts and the two begin to fight badly. The reader eventually stays in the scouts because she doesn't want to leave without him, but the relationship between Levi and the reader is getting colder and more detached. The reader begins to think that Levi is no longer interested in her after noticing his growing friendship with Petra and she decides to leave the scouts thinking it's the best decision for her and for Levi. When Levi finds out, he tries to find her, but without success. Only a few years later, he catches a glimpse of her in the crowd after the scouts have returned from an expedition and he follows her. Once they arrive at the reader's house, she and Levi make up and the reader claims that she has been selfish in the past and that she would like to return to the scouts to fight against the titans and to claim the deaths of Isabel and Farlan. Eventually the reader and Levi resume their relationship and Levi promises her that nothing would separate them again. I'm really sorry that it's so long, if you consider this idea feel free to modify it as you wish. Sorry for my English too... it’s not very good. Thank you so much, you're one of the best Levi writers I know! ❤️

I’m sorry for the delay, dear. I was struggling with a mini writer’s block and was focusing more on art but I’m slowly getting back on track! Thank you so much for the request and thank you for your kind words. This really means a lot to me! As far as modifying goes, the only thing I modified is the timeskip. Instead of a few years, I made it one year. I hope you don’t mind ^^

Words: 4.5K

Warnings: Very Brief mention of suicide, prostitution and self-harm

Hope you like it  ❤️ Feedback is deeply appreciated! ^^

Also, if Levi seems OOC, please feel free to correct me~ I accept constructive criticism ^^  

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

You were arguing.

You never argued.

But the situation that had befallen you made you feel all sort of ways and neither of you knew how to express those emotions, that stress, which is why it had slowly turned into a fight.

“You shouldn’t have agreed! We have no idea how the world above works! We’re going to fuck up, Levi,” you raised your voice, hands clenching into fists by your sides, levels of anger rising at Levi’s indifference at the situation. You knew that it was only a façade and that deep down Levi wasn’t indifferent. You knew he was probably worried just as much as you were. But right now you were so scared and you wanted him to just show some more emotion, fight back, shower you with words of reassurance, hug you…anything…not just stand with crossed arms, staring at you.

“So what, I should’ve let the bushy eyebrowed bastard send us in prison?” he raised an eyebrow as if challenging you to give him a good reason for your big distaste of joining the Survey Corpse. He couldn’t understand why you had exploded like that when he had agreed. It was the perfect opportunity for the fulfillment of your mission…Not that you had been very accepting of the mission either. Your paranoia and distrust always clawed at you, many a time ripping any semblance of reason and logic. But he couldn’t’ exactly blame you. He was similar in a way. He supposed that this is what living in the Underground did to you.

Living?

No. More like struggling, digging in the mud, to survive.

And the two of you had been doing this since you were kids.  

“I’d rather rot in a prison cell than a titan’s stomach. And since when do you trust nobles anyways? It’s mostly because of them that we all fester here in this dump,” you spat out and he pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a sigh.

“If you are so against this mission, why are you even joining?” he shot back and you choked on whatever words you had the intention of spilling.

You took a deep breath as you slumped next to him on the couch, body completely slacking in defeat as your anger simmered down a bit.

“Do you even have to ask me that?” you muttered as you stared at the ceiling, the hands in your lap fiddling with your fingers. “It’s because I would never turn my back on my family…on you,” you murmured as you straightened up and turned to face him. “Even if it’s the stupidest decision which would probably result in something shitty, I’ll still stick with you. You are all I have…I love you,” you timidly uttered the last words, casting your eyes downwards as a slight blush spread over your cheeks. The man sighed before his hands went to grab yours, successfully stopping your fiddling and wringing, squeezing them reassuringly.

“Look at me,” he ushered you gently yet firmly and you lifted your head, locking eyes with his. “We’ll be fine.”

You let out another sigh before you leaned, letting his arms encircle your form as he rested his chin on the top of your head.

“I pray that you’re right,” you whispered and just when you thought you could have a moment of peace, Farlan entered the room with a constipated expression. You couldn’t blame him. You were all beaten and battered by the soldiers and your ego was bruised, even though you let them capture you. And now they were all standing in your home or surrounding it while you packed the little of your belongings, breathing down your neck.

It was suffocating.  

“We’ve packed everything. It’s time to go.”

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

You wanted to blame him.

You wanted to tell him – “I told you so.”

But that wouldn’t bring back Farlan and Isabel.

It wouldn’t stitch back their ripped bodies.

They were gone and the only thing you could blame was this world.

Because it was so cruel.

And the only beauty you found in it was your love for Levi and his love for you.

He had no fault. Nobody knew that things would turn out like this. That fate would decide to cackle in your faces.

The two of you stuck together like glue more than ever after that day. You even went as far as to disregard rules as you would sneak into the men’s barracks just to sleep with him because he was the only one who managed to chase away the nightmares and wipe your tears. And you knew, even without him saying it directly, that you were the only one who could comfort him when he was feeling the burden of the world crushing his shoulders. And Farlan and Isabel’s deaths really did feel like the whole world just crumbled on top of you two. The only difference was that you were more prone to emotions and didn’t find such a difficulty at expressing them unlike Levi who preferred to bottle everything inside, feign indifference and coldness and find toxic coping mechanisms like not sleeping which as time passed shaped into the ugly form of his insomnia, despite all the scolding you’ve done.

Time passed. The first weeks after Isabel and Farlan’s deaths, you had been inseparable. But that slowly began to change after the date of the next expedition was announced. Your paranoia spiked up one night after you had tried suppressing it for days and that resulted in a breakdown.

You wanted out.

You wanted to leave the Scouts.

You had even gone as far as to talk to Erwin and the Commander, literally begging them to help you with the citizenship matters and let you and Levi leave. But of course, they refused and Erwin even went to speak to Levi about this, not knowing that the man had no idea about your plans and wishes.

Levi was angry that you did something like that behind his back. He understood your fear. He understood very well because he was afraid too. He was afraid that he was going to lose you too – the only person he had left. But he didn’t appreciate that you hadn’t been straightforward with him regarding such a serious matter, only revealing everything you have done and felt at the heat of the moment.

“I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a little girl, hiding in the wardrobe, listening how man after man would use my mother every night. Dreaming about a life, safely tucked in the corner of the world, surrounded by beautiful nature, peace and quiet, alongside my beloved person... Is it so bad that I want this for us?” you had asked with trembling voice and Levi’s expression had softened, a sign that he had forgiven you for everything and that he didn’t want to argue anymore.

“As much as I want that too, we can’t have it when the titans are roaming everywhere, threatening to wipe out Humanity. If we don’t destroy them now, we are only delaying our doom,” he muttered as his hand went to softly caress your cheek, making you sigh as you leaned into his touch. “But that man, Erwin Smith, sees something that I don’t. He has a plan to save humanity and… he sees victory… That’s why I want to stay in the Survey Corps and fight,” he admitted and at that moment, you found yourself captured by that determination burning in his eyes.

His desire to fight for a better future.

Not only for the sake of you two, but for the sake of thousands of people.

And while you weren’t completely sure yet that you were ready to sacrifice your happiness and life for a bunch of people you didn’t know or care about, you knew that you were ready to sacrifice anything and everything for him.

And that’s why you stayed.

And he knew that. He knew you better than you knew yourself. But he chose not to call you out for this. Because he understood how you felt. He didn’t belittle you. He didn’t call you selfish or insensitive or a bad person just because you didn’t want to care about anyone else but him. What does selfish, insensitive or bad even mean? They are just vague concepts that are different from every person’s point of view.

And as more time passed, after every expedition, he could see why you wanted to leave. He could see why you didn’t want to fight. Every expedition, every death, left an impact on you, stealing bit by bit from your sunny personality and shaping you into a depressed, miserable person.

Even if you claimed that you didn’t care about strangers dying, deep, deep down, he knew you did. It was just the person you were, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t care about anyone but him in order to protect yourself. But on a deeper level you still cared and you were still affected and he knew that you hated feeling like this – it brought only chaos, confusion and misery to your mind and soul as you desperately tried to live up to your own expectations and build walls around yourself only for every brick to be broken as a comrade would send you a smile or compliment you or help you out with something. And after every expedition, he would gain a better understanding as to why you wanted to be selfish and leave. Why you wanted – why you tried forcing yourself – to stop caring about anything and everyone and run away with him – the one and only person who – you tried to convince yourself – mattered.

And he didn’t know why he couldn’t follow you. On many occasions, he felt the same. But somehow, for some reason, he would always find a way back to Erwin – back to the goal they shared for humanity. He didn’t know where that sudden loyalty for the blonde had come from – the same blonde who more or less had been the reason as to why Farlan and Isabel had died. But it was exactly this loyal bond that had formed between them that prevented Levi from following you and he hated himself for it because he could see how this life of soldiers was destroying you from the inside out and there were moments when he would lay at night and dark thoughts would cross his mind – of your body hanging from somewhere or him finding you drowned or with sliced wrists or a bullet stuck in the head.

It wasn’t uncommon for soldiers to turn to self-harm as a coping mechanism and some even committed suicide.

The fight against the titans wasn’t something to be underestimated and it left an irreparable damage on everyone.

And he could see you were heading that way and he hated himself for not being able to put a stop to this and just grab your hand and run away from everything – as you wanted.

That’s why he decided to distance himself from you. He thought that maybe if he started ignoring you, if he was being cold and distant, it would put a rift in your relationship. It would make you think that he didn’t love you anymore. That you were a painful reminder of the past. And once your bond was severed, nothing would be holding you back. Nothing would stop you from leaving. Because he was the only thing, the only reason, as to why you were still sticking around. And then maybe you would finally be able to find the peace and quiet you had been seeking for ages.

His conversations with you became shorter. His answers – curt. His affection and acts of service decreased. It had brought you to tears, thinking that you had done something wrong and it tore him apart when he caught you crying one night. But it was for your own good so he had to grit his teeth and bear with it never mind how much it hurt that he was causing you this suffering.

Him being promoted to a Captain helped a lot. Now he didn’t need to find reasons or excuses to not spend time with you because he was genuinely so busy all the time. The stress was making him snappy too so he tried avoiding conversations altogether, not wanting to actually say something hurtful because then he would feel even more pain and regret and that would have his resolve crumble and he would go back to being loving and affectionate which was far, far from the goal he had.

Then Oluo and Petra had entered the picture – two members fresh into the Survey Corps, graduated from the same trainee squad with incredible talent and promising skills. He had taken them into his squad but he didn’t know that this would be the final straw to put such a rift in your relationship.  

It was true that Petra was a bit clingy. Her infatuation, devotion and loyalty to him were obvious. But he thought it was a childish, fleeting crush which is why he didn’t find it necessary to confront her about it. He thought it would disappear over time, especially with how both she and Oluo seemed like an old married couple more and more with each passing day. He didn’t want to push away the members of his own squad. He wanted to embrace them. To embrace their friendship. On a subconscious level, he was trying to fill the gaps left behind from the people he lost. The gaps oozing loneliness and pain. The gaps you couldn’t fill because he wasn’t allowing you to in his haste to push you away.

And when one day he went to have lunch with Erwin, as the two needed to discuss important matters in his office, he wasn’t expecting the blonde to deliver such mortifying news to him.

“Look, Levi…I’m sorry to say this but… Y/N left the Survey Corps,” told him the Commander with a sombre tone and Levi felt his entire world shift.

Suddenly, regret flooded him, chilling him to the very last atom.

Erwin saw each and every emotion flashing in his eyes. And even if he wanted to remind his friend of the words he had told him years ago, he couldn’t.

Because there were things in this life that were impossible not to regret.

Like losing a loved one because of your or their own demons.

It was one thing to lose a loved one to death. And completely another to lose them because of your decision.

Levi didn’t utter a word, pressing his lips in a thin line as he swiftly stood up and turned on his heel, leaving the office with ebony bangs covering his eyes, shielding him from his friend’s look of pity and compassion.

He needed to think.

He needed time.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

You don’t realize how much someone or something means to you until you lose them.

No, that’s not exactly it.

Levi cherished you a lot. Levi loved you a lot. You meant the world to him. That’s why he wanted you to leave. He wanted you to find peace. He wanted you to live a good life away from that misery and bloodshed.

Even if it killed him on the inside.

Because if you truly love someone, you would let them go if it was for the sake of their happiness.

But now that he’s finally gone and done it. Now that he not only pushed you away as a lover but pushed you away from his life altogether, he felt lost.

He felt lost and miserable.

As if life was drained from any sound and colour, leaving him to float in some abyss, soaking in his own negative feelings.

The sorrow, the pain, the dread, the loneliness.

If he had to list them all, he would waste all of Erwin’s expensive parchment.

And as he laid there in his bed, after thinking and reflecting on everything for hours on end, staring at the ceiling with an empty bottle of alcohol shattered into pieces against the opposite wall – alcohol that barely got him tipsy – he realized that maybe he wanted to be selfish too. That, combined with the regrets of pushing you away, burned at his soul, melting any doubts he had, like a blacksmith melting steel, and solidified his resolve to find you and bring you back, like a new sword being forged.

So next day after he had gotten all his emotions, thoughts and feelings in check and after he had taken a decision, he approached Erwin and asked for your location.

He was unpleased when his friend told him that he had no idea where you went off to. Part of Levi wanted to be angry and yell at him. Accuse him of lying. But he was so tired after the emotional and mental battle he had wielded that he just gave up on his anger and frustration and decided that instead of letting such negative emotions rule over him, he would brush them aside instead and pave way for that same scorching determination he had for the Survey Corpse’s cause, now combining it with the determination of finding you.

And he didn’t stop.

Once he started, he didn’t stop.

He would visit every town, every village, whenever he was free from his duty.

He never stopped looking for you.

It took him roughly a year to scout most of Wall Rose’s lands.

But it was during one fateful evening, after the Scouts were returning from an expedition, when he spotted you.

The sun had just set, allowing the sky to be painted in purples and blues with shimmering stars being sprinkled onto the canvas. The street lanterns shone brightly and the comforting light spewing from them had illuminated a very familiar form.

A form that Levi knew like the lines of his own palm.

He hadn’t wasted time to jump from his black mare and chase after you. He didn’t want to approach and confront you right away so he just settled for walking at a slow pace behind you, trying his best to not be noticed or come off as some creep.

He seriously couldn’t believe his luck.

Knowing your thought pattern, he believed that you had run away somewhere far. Back in the days when you lived in the Underground, whenever you had arguments – which was very rare – you would always run away from home and hide somewhere far, knowing that it would be hard for him to find you and nearly giving him heart attacks because of it. But this time you had decided to hide right under his nose – near Trost district which was not far away from the SC HQ.

He counted himself outsmarted and he didn’t know whether to be annoyed by this or proud of you.    

You looked radiant even in the dusk. The cream dress you were wearing made you look like a vision, glowing in the dark. It reached a bit past your knees, revealing some of your calves while the upper part left your collarbones in the open. He longed to run his fingers over your skin. Through your hair. To touch you. To feel you. To hold you. To tell you what an idiot he was. How he wanted you back in his life because he couldn’t exist without you by his side.

To apologize.

“Are you going to keep following me or are you going to help me carry the basket?” your voice interrupted his train of thought and he cursed lightly under his breath. You chuckled and stopped in your tracks, turning around ever so slightly, eyes finally landing on the person you were so anxious to see again but didn’t have the courage to approach.

He wordlessly took the basket from your hands and began walking next to you.

All the way to your house you stayed silent.

He didn’t even comment when you exited the District and neared the woods, only lifting an eyebrow.

Your shoes and his boots clinked against the cobblestone pathway, the little door of the wooded fence creaking under your touch as you pushed it. His eyes scanned the yard, taking notice of the freely roaming chicken, a few lambs, one cow and one horse – your horse from the Survey Corps. He could vaguely make out a garden peeking from behind the house so he supposed you also had a backyard where you were growing your food. He almost flinched when a huge dog – almost as big as you and him – came running in your direction, demanding head pats which you gladly gave.

Levi was impatient. He wanted to enter the damn house already and talk. But at the same time, a part of him was happy about the delay. He almost gulped nervously at the thought of the following confrontation.

Almost.

At last, you unlocked the front door and the two took off your shoes, putting on slippers, and moved into the house. You took the basket from his hands and placed it on the kitchen counter before you grabbed a rag to wipe the table and beckoned the man to sit down. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, taking a step towards the chair before halting, looking at you rigidly, and resuming his journey until he was finally sat. You clenched and unclenched the rag before you threw it away and sat across him, fingers now playing with the soft fabric of your dress. You looked at the ground and he looked at your feet, noticing your toes curling and uncurling from nerves even through the slippers.  

“I-“

“Levi-“

You both said at the same time and you chuckled lightly at the cliché situation.

“You first,” uttered the man and you gulped, sending him a wobbly smile.

“I want to apologize-“ you took a short pause and an intake of air when you saw his eyes widening as his features twisted in a dumbstruck expression as if he was unable to process why you were apologizing. “-for leaving so suddenly without uttering a word. It was…childish,” you quieted down and he closed his eyes, sighing deeply. “You were walking further and further away from me, getting extra busy with being a Captain and…and then Petra came into the picture,” you muttered but were fast to wave your hands in defence, “Not that I ever doubted your loyalty! My trust in you would never waver but…I just thought that maybe we both needed a break. We needed to breathe and clear our heads and start thinking properly. That’s why I decided to leave and give us some space. I never truly intended on leaving the Survey Corps or abandoning you…You mean so much to me…but I’m still sorry that I-“

“Stop,” he rose to his feet and you quickly followed, anticipation and fear at his next possible words, building up inside of you, making you feel like burning. “You don’t have to apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

That calmed you down a bit, the fear leaving your mind, but instead, worry settled as you looked at the way he lowered his head and bit his lip.

“I acted wrongly…I was foolish by thinking that pushing you away would bring you the freedom and happiness you sought,” he muttered and your face softened. “I just,” he sighed as his trembling hand went through his hair in an attempt to ground himself. “I just saw how impacted you would get after every expedition…how you started losing that glow of yours, your bubbly and sunny persona…I saw how hard you were trying to force yourself to stop caring, to be selfish and leave, but you still couldn’t because…because you’re not like that… damnit,” he grit out as he tugged on a few strands before letting his hand fall and rest against his hip limply.

He kicked himself inwardly. He was never good at expressing himself. The moment he had seen you in the crowd, the moment he had set a goal to talk to you and sort everything out, he had been reciting in his head and thinking what exactly he was going to tell you and how he was going to explain himself and the reasoning behind his actions.

“I just-“

“-wanted me to be happy…So you thought that by being a dick and pushing me away, you would make me leave so I can find my peace and quiet somewhere far, far away,” you finished for him, deciding to help him out which caused him to halt in his speech and just stare at you, waiting for your next words, the terror of you rejecting him or telling him that you didn’t feel the same anymore felt like a nettle rope around his neck, getting tighter and tighter with each second, suffocating and scathing him. “Listen, while you might have been partially right, you were also wrong. Because even if I do find happiness away from all the bloodshed, it just wouldn’t be the same without you, silly,” you shook your head as you sent him a sad smile. “I’d rather endure all the pain and suffering in the world than be separated from you,” you finally took the courage to close the space between you as you laid your head on his chest, arms slowly sliding around his torso. He didn’t hesitate to return the hug, sharply bringing you closer, if that was possible, and squeezing you so hard you didn’t know whether to groan from pain or chuckle at seeing him express himself so openly and in such a sweet, boyish manner. It kind of brought back memories from the days you lived in the Underground and how he would hug you exactly like that when you would do something stupid that would put you at risk, albeit a bit more awkwardly since back when you were teenagers you both had no idea how to express your love for each other.

“Deep down I knew you were onto something. Because why would you start acting like that so suddenly? It just wasn’t in your style. But at the same time I felt…” he tightened his embrace even more and buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent and letting it comfort his tortured mind. He had missed you so unbearably much.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” he whispered and you sighed as you ran your hands over his back in a soothing manner.

“I forgive you, Levi…I understand that you did it for my own good. But believe me when I say that I can’t find true freedom or happiness without you by my side,” you placed a kiss on his shoulder before pulling away to look him in the eyes. “Don’t ever leave. Don’t ever try to make me leave. Let’s just stick together through thick and thin as we’ve done since we were kids, ok?” you asked and he nodded, leaning hesitantly. You met his lips halfway and you kissed gently which slowly turned into a passionate, hungry, heated and desperate make out as you tried to feel one another after a whole year of being apart. When you finally broke it off, needing air, you rested your forehead against his and let yourself soak in his presence. He did the same. You just stayed like that, foreheads touching, arms around one another as you swayed ever so slightly.

“Want to help me pack?”

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 1

Ding dong fannibals I’m back on my bullshit :) 

I discovered that I cannot for the life of me be concise so this one might come in a couple parts. I don't anticipate it's gonna go as long as Cult Girl but we'll see. Y/n is an introverted waitress at a fancy restaurant with a crush on a mysterious regular. An encounter with a dangerous criminal pulls her into his world.

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence; implied drug use; religiously-motivated violence.

In some ways, waitressing was the perfect job for an introvert. Customers didn’t see you as a person, they saw you as an NPC. As long as that was the case, you weren’t expected to engage with them beyond the script: you take their order, bring them the food and they, hopefully, leave a tip. To ensure that, you perfected the art of fake happiness. You were there to make money, not friends. 

Well, there was an exception to every rule. Yours was the sommelier. 

The sommelier was a regular at the restaurant, but never ordered a meal. He mostly just sat at the bar, drank expensive wine, and watched the people come and go for hours at a time. Among the waitstaff, he was a bit of a local cryptid. Waitresses whispered about the handsome gentleman with an unidentifiable accent and deep pockets. About how lucky you had to be to score a bartending shift on one of the nights he showed up. It got to the point where bartending shifts were swapped like currency, because every woman on staff wanted the chance to meet the sommelier. 

One of the more religious line chefs liked to remind you all that the devil would come as everything you could ever desire. He was fully convinced that the sommelier was Satan incarnate, and he wasn’t completely off the mark. Standing at six feet tall with features sharp enough to cut diamonds, the sommelier wouldn’t look out of place in a vampire thriller. He always dressed in dark suits. Your coworkers hypothesized this was so the bloodstains wouldn’t show. Despite the chef’s well-intended (if not condescending) warnings, even the threat of eternal damnation couldn’t scare you off. 

As much as you liked to believe you were above stupid workplace gossip, you knew you weren’t. You were never the most socially adept person, but this gave you something to connect over. It’s how you discovered that you and the other waitresses were all in the same boat; broke, lonely and in desperate need of some excitement. And if that came in the form of a wine-loving vampire taking a liking to your restaurant, there were certainly worse ways to go. 

Unfortunately, not even the chance at encountering the sommelier could make you look forward to working Easter Sunday. Your manager had you working from noon to midnight that day. As employers went, he wasn’t much of a tyrant. He offered you time and a half and even let you switch from waiting tables to bartending halfway through the shift. He, too, knew how coveted the bartending shifts were. And you weren’t in any position to refuse, either. You quite enjoyed having a roof over your head and food in your stomach. 

That didn’t make up for the fact that most of the other twenty-something employees had left for the holiday, and you were one of the few stragglers left available. Easter was the most dreaded workday of the year, because the infamous after-church crowd quadrupled in size and lasted all day. They came in double-digit parties, had no concept of birth control and tipped in prayer. Too many times had you reached for what looked like a generous cash tip, only to find that it was a church pamphlet disguised as a fifty.

You clocked in at noon exactly, after waiting for the second hand to pass the twelve just to be sure. 

“[F/N]!” Your coworker, Charissa, grabbed your attention before you could walk away. “I heard you’re at the bar this evening. Congratulations.” 

“He’s not going to show up, Charissa.” You rolled your eyes. You decided to go into this shift expecting the absolute worst, that way you wouldn’t be setting yourself up for disappointment. “It’s Easter.” 

“You don’t know that.” Charissa nudged you in the side. 

You grinned. “Why would a vampire come to dinner on the one day everyone is gonna be wearing a cross?” 

“Oh, shit, I didn’t think of that.” Charissa gasped. “Well, good luck anyway.”

The first wave of customers filing through the door and filling the restaurant with noise pushed all optimism out of your head. Sighing, you approached a person that Charissa had already seated. 

“Hi, my name is [F/N], I’ll be your server today.” You greeted the first customer in your block. “Can I get you something to drink today?” 

The man couldn’t have been a day over twenty-five, if that. He was still lively in a way that meant he hadn’t experienced the drain that was a minimum wage job. He was wearing a shirt that said ‘on fire for Christ’ under a flannel with no buttons. One look and you knew he wasn’t going to tip. 

The man flashed a row of eerily white teeth. “I thought you said you would bring the wine?” 

You momentarily thought you’d already taken his drink order and shook your head. “I’m sorry, did I--”

“Ah, I see your confusion.” The man shrugged and forced a laugh. “You’re waitressing this week, you and I are going on a date next week. My mistake.” 

Great. You thought. It hasn't even been five minutes and I'm already being gaslit.

Any interaction that forced you to go off-script was bad, but this was a particularly irritating diversion. “Would you like to see a wine list?”

“I’m Chase.” He said. “It’s nice to meet you, [F/N].” 

“Have you decided on a drink?” You repeated, trying not to grit your teeth too obviously. 

"I'll have a glass of your finest coke, please." He faked an English accent, poorly.

"We only carry Pepsi products." You said, dreading how this joker would react to such a minor inconvenience.

He threw his head back and made a face like he had just taken a bullet to the chest. "No, it's gotta be coke! It's coke or nothing!"

"Did you want something else, then?" You tried to hurry him along. "The bartender makes a very nice mimosa-"

He smacked the table as if he had some urgent question. "McDonald's or Chick-Fil-A? There is a right answer, so choose wisely."

"...uh," You mumbled, just praying that he would order a drink already. There wasn't even a Chick-fil-A in the area. "I like McDonald's."

Again, he acted like he was shot in the chest. "Oh, you're down zero to two!"

"If you need a few minutes to select a drink," You said. "I can come back-"

He grabbed your arm and forced a laugh. "I'm just kidding around with you, [F/N]. Pepsi is fine."

You scribbled the order down on your notepad, mostly just to pry your wrist from his grip. You wanted to go into the bathroom and scrub yourself down, but perhaps it was just easier to chop the whole arm off. That way you could get worker's compensation, too.

The tables were filling up and you had spent far too long coaxing a drink order out of this youth pastor creep. You had actual families to wait on. The shift was off to a horrible start.

You made him wait for as long as you could get away with. You took drink orders from three full booths before returning to the youth pastor. Because you knew he was raring to corner you again.

You planted the pop in front of him, the glass already wet with condensation. "Have you decided on a meal?"

"I was just looking over this menu and something caught my eye." He began, looking at the holiday menu your manager had printed off. "This rack of lamb, it's a special, right?"

"Right." You nodded. "It's a pretty large meal, though, so I'd recommend sharing it-"

"No, y'see.." he cut you off. "Jesus was the lamb of god. He died on the cross for your sins. And, look!"

He pointed to the menu. "It says it's a 'praying hands' lamb!"

"Oh!" You forced yet another smile. "I can see the confusion. That just refers to how the rack is arranged."

"I think it's a sign from god." He said.

You demonstrated the shape of the dish with your fingers. "See, the rib bones are long and the racks are Frenched, so the dish takes the shape of a pair of, well, praying hands."

"I'll take it." He nodded furiously.

He took a sharp breath in through his nose and you started to seriously wonder if his definition of "coke or nothing" had a double meaning. It formulated in your head as a joke, but it became more and more of a serious inquiry by the minute.

You leaned in just slightly to get a closer look at his face. Some details you hadn't noticed before were beginning to come into focus. His eyes were vacant and glassy. A small but noticeable stream of blood trickled from his nostril.

"Sir?" You said in a clear, projected voice. "Is there someone I could call for you?"

He turned his head. "Jesus died for your sins."

You looked around the room for any sign of your manager, a supervisor or anyone with a shred of authority. "This man needs help!"

In your haste to call attention to the situation, you didn't see him pick up his steak knife.

"You want to know what Jesus felt when you pierced him?" He muttered, just loud enough for your ears alone.

You felt the serrated knife puncture your skin before you had time to process his words. The pain shot through your body, making you freeze in place.

A chorus of screams filled the restaurant. Blood was pouring from the open wound in a quantity you didn't think possible. Underneath, the knife went straight through your hand and into the table.

The man gripped the handle and gave it a twist, a look of horrifying pleasure on his face. At this point, several people had stepped in to restrain him. He was tall and athletic and could easily overpower many of the other customers, which he did. He found another steak knife and began to cut throats while chanting an incomprehensible prayer.

An older woman claiming to be a doctor rushed to your side. She made a makeshift tourniquet from a napkin and a butter knife. Everything after that was a blur. You struggled to stay conscious as the woman tried to guide the knife from the table while keeping it embedded in your hand.

Soon enough, police and ambulances arrived on the scene. The woman placed you in the care of one of the many EMTs, then rushed away to assist the others.

"I'm just doing what Jesus says!" The youth pastor shouted, before gouging his knife into another man's throat. "Spreading his love!"

The officers notably didn't open fire and made an attempt to de-escalate. Maybe that was how the youth pastor was able to escape. 

[spideymarvelws]

could you do like a dom wanda and peter x reader smut 😳

my bi ass is screaming🥵also this is my first time writing a threesome and smut for a female character so im sorry if things are a bit iffy

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglist

Warnings : SMUT! (aged up-dom!peter, dom!wanda, sub!reader, bondage, choking, degrading, oral[fem rec], innocence kink? master kink towards the end, slapping, spitting kink, obsessive behaviour)

Word Count : 2.0k

Pretty Little Thing

Peter Parker x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

“She’s a pretty one isn’t she?” Wanda slurred, looking down at your kneeling form on the floor. Your back was slouched, chest rising up and down with heavy breaths after Peter finally released your mouth from around his cock. It was a pleasing sight, seeing you so fucked out and vulnerable, your eyes practically begging for more even though your body was so worn. Even with your hands webbed behind your back, you managed to shuffle forward just a little on your knees, chasing after his member like a desperate whore.

“The most beautiful thing in the world.” Peter cooed, letting the pads of his fingers travel down the side of your messy face, lightly scoffing when you nudged your cheek into his palm, “Needy thing too.”

Wanda laughed, the humiliation sending a wave of arousal to your neglected heat. You wanted to talk, to beg for them to do something, anything. But the red ring of magic around your throat contracted every time the thought of opening your mouth crossed your mind. Unless it was for Peter’s cock or Wanda’s fingers.

“Do you want to speak kitten?” Wanda leaned down, her face hovering over yours, reading your mind for all the dirty thoughts running through it. All focus from Peter’s touch left your head, moving to her devious face. She glowed under the dim light of the room, bringing out her dark red lipstick and flashing red eyes.

You nodded desperately, whimpering when her thumb made contact with your cheek, moving to the corner of your lips and swiping off the mixture of cum and spit from your skin. She pushed it into your mouth and you took it without complaint, enjoying the taste bursting onto your tongue.

“Who knew you were such a cum slut,” Peter groaned, pulling your head back by your hair so he could get a good look at your face.

“And we can’t have out little cock slave talking now can we?” she fake pouted, grabbing your jaw tightly between her fingers, moving it around like you were a toy being marvelled at, “But I guess we could make you cum, how does that sound kitten?”

You vigorously nodded your head up and down, the rest of your body bouncing like a bunny. A red aura formed around you as you were lifted up from the ground, landing softly on the mattress with your face pressed against the cold pillows and your ass in the air.

“How- How do you do that?” you heard Peter whisper, feeling his eyes move across your exposed body.

“Really?” Wanda responded, accent thick and heavy, “I nearly defeated Thanos by myself and you ask that now?”

“Well we weren’t about to fuck Thanos so I wasn’t really that interested.” his hand made contact with your ass, squeezing your cheeks when you let out a small mewl.

“Do you always think with your dick Peter?” Wanda went to slap his hand off but he was quick enough to pull it away, landing another blow on your bum.

Peter ignored her question, instead letting his fingers trail up the arch of your back, the warmth that contrasting with your cold skin sent shivers up your body. But the comfort was shortly enjoyed when he grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you up against his shoulder and placing a quick peck to the side of your forehead.

Wanda rolled her eyes at the brunette’s actions, kissing the spot she hit tenderly, “Sorry kitten.”

“Don’t apologize for something she obviously enjoyed,” Peter scoffed, reaching down and swiping his fingers along your wet pussy, smirking when your wetness dripped down his thick digits, “Maybe a little too much... huh princess?”

You only whined in response, sticking out your tongue when he hovered his drenched fingered over your mouth. He slid them in slowly, letting your taste linger in the back of your throat. He couldn’t help but imagine his cock instead, just like you were moments ago. So obedient, taking it how slow or fast he was giving it to you.

Peter couldn’t wait to fuck your tight little cunt, to use it like his own personal fuck doll. It was his fantasy ever since he saw you walk into the lab with Steve, introduced as the new secretary to the avengers, dressed in the most innocent black skirt that hugged your ass perfectly and baby pink button up. 

But it was Wanda’s fantasy too.

“Hey!” he exclaimed when he was forced off your body. Before you fell back against the sheets, you were raised once again in the air by Wanda’s magic, this time placed gently down on your back. The webs around your wrists disappeared, your arms quickly raised and put against the headboard, your thighs spread open, leaving you completely vulnerable. 

“Don’t forget she’s ours to share.” Wanda smiled sweetly, wrapping her arms around the base of your thighs, bringing her face close to your pussy, “So if you want to be useful, web her up again.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, licking a bold stipe up the length of your sex with her tongue. You let out a loud whine from the back of your throat, trying your best not to scream at the contact. But Wanda didn’t like that you were holding back, she wanted you to scream under her pleasure, she wanted you begging for her, shouting her name for the entire building to know that you were hers.

And Peter’s too she guessed.

To lost in the pleasure, you didn’t notice when Peter webbed your hands once again until you frantically tugged at the retrains, whining and moaning when you couldn’t do anything but take and take until you couldn’t anymore. You wanted nothing more than to run your hands through Wanda’s perfect red hair or grab onto Peter’s wrist when he wrapped his fingers around your neck. But you couldn’t, you weren’t allowed and you accepted that quickly.

Especially when you enjoyed being used by the two avengers so much, to the point of pure insanity.

“Taste so good kitten,” Wanda mumbled into your pussy, the vibration of her voice sending shocks up your body. You jerked your hips against her face, desperate for more. She was quick to push them back against the sheets with the flick of her wrist, gently sucking your clit before letting the bud go with a pop, flicking it with her tongue.

You felt something flick of your nipple at the same time, a warm hand landing on the sensitive skin, drawing your attention to your chest. Peter looked up at you with dark eyes, blocking you from seeing Wanda but giving you an equally arousing view. 

His lips latched on to your left bud, sucking and swirling his tongue expertly while playing with your right breast. The combination of the pleasure was enough to bring you closer and closer your your high, climbing and climbing until you couldn’t take it anymore

“Wanda! Peter! I’m gonna- i’m gonna-” you threw your had back when Peter decided to lightly bit your nipple, the hero snickering when he cut off your sentence. Wanda chuckled as well, letting her digits roam over your gushing hole before slipping two of them in easily, drawing out a scream from your body.

“You’re going to what princess?” Peter teased, kissing up the middle of your chest and neck, sucking the tissue and creating his own mark, branding you as his.

“Do you want to cum kitten? Do you want to cum all over my fingers like a good little whore.” Wanda muttered but loud enough for you to hear over Peter working on your neck.

“Yes Wanda, please! Please let me cum! Please! Please! Please!” you cried, your thighs shaking from holding it in for so long. Even if they never demanded you to ask for permission, something told you that that’s what they would’ve wanted.

“Then go ahead kitten,” she whispered, quickening her fingers to an impossible pace, plunging them in and out of you, hitting all the right places over and over again, “Let go.”

You wasted no time, your orgasm hitting you like a tidal wave with the simple command. Your body went into overdrive, trying to move away when Wanda continued her assault on your fucked out pussy, only slowing down when she knew you rode it out fully.

Peter swallowed your whimpers, pressing his lips against yours, moving them slowly to calm you down from such an intense moment. You melted into the kiss, whimpering with every breath you took until they lessened into small exhales.

While Peters hands stayed on each side of your cheek, Wanda’s began moving hers up your body, soothing you with her touch. As her palm moved up your form, it was like an instant calm washed over you, letting you fully relax into the cloud like sheets.

“Thank you,” you whispered when Peter pulled back, letting you finally look up to the two sets of eyes peering down at you, “Thank you.”

Wanda smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead, swiping some of the hair that covered the now sweaty skin.

“Anything for you kitten,” she said, sending a small glare to Peter when he lightly shoved her to kiss your neck once again, directly over the mark he made earlier. She was ready to get petty but then she remembered the art piece she made between your thighs and let the hero have his moment.

“You did so well Y/n,” she smiled, kissing your nose sweetly, “But you know the night is far from over right?”

You nodded lazily, to lost in the feeling of Peter’s lips to fully process your words. So she grabbed your jaw, forcing your eyes on hers.

“Did you forget that you spoke out of turn kitten? I never gave you permission to do that,” Peter laughed harshly into your neck, bitting the skin to get a yelp out of your mouth as Wanda continued, “But I was nice, I let you cum all over the fucking bed like the little whore you are. Even Peter was kind enough to do his own work on you, such a generous boy isn’t he?”

Peter grumbled at Wanda’s words, biting your neck once again in retaliation. He liked drawing out noises from you, knowing that it was because of him. He couldn’t wait to dive in your pussy, owning it as his even if it fully wasn’t. As long as his name was screamed from your mouth he would be satisfied.

“You’re in for a long week kitten,” she tutted, opening the closet with a little wiggle of her fingers, pulling out her strap-on and resting it at the edge of the bed, letting your eyes linger on the toy, “A very, very long week.”

You whimpered, thoughts of Wanda fucking you with the rubber. Maybe she could take you from behind while Peter fucked your face or maybe the opposite way around. And while you knew it would never happen judging by the competitiveness between the two, you couldn't help but let your mind run to the both of them enjoying the toy, leaving you tied to the bed, helpless and forced to watch them pleasure each other.

The thought sounded like a dream.

“And Y/n?” Wanda’s voice broke you out of your fantasy.

You squeaked.

“My name isn’t Wanda anymore, neither is Peter’s,”

Her eyes flashed red, the soft persona she showed only seconds ago completely gone. She squeezed your jaw open, spitting directly into your mouth, tilting your head back delicately and watching as you swallowed.

“We’re your Masters now princess,” Peter said lowly into your ear, reaching down to play with your sensitive heat, “And I think it’s time you address us as such.”

...

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Crossed out means couldn’t tag :(

[thecousinsdangereux]

the land of race car ya yas

A short little ficlet for @corvophobia who has drawn a bunch of art for the bees racer au of my dreams. This is ALL based on her drawings, so make sure you check out her stuff. Happy birthday, Amber! You are one of my two favorite British children. <3

(Please note that I know nothing about street racing. I've only watched the Fast and the Furious movies. Forgive me....)

--

“How’d you do that?”

Blake’s used to the question or some version of it, and maybe that’s why she takes in the words before she notices the tone, imagines a scowl (a lowered brow, hands curled into fists, the flash of teeth as the scowl turns into a snarl) with the same instinct that has her shoulders tensing. It’s only mid-turn that she realizes the question is laced with wonder rather than anger, but even this awareness doesn’t prepare her for the sight that meets her. It’s a woman, her smile wide and unrestrained by pesky things like self-consciousness or insecurity, and her eyes are nearly glowing in the low light, purple and bright and full of open admiration. Her black leather jacket, classic in cut, has the sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, revealing a prosthetic of black and yellow, and her grey jeans are tight, showing off a body that Blake has to work to avoid following the curves of. Her hair is long, blonde, curling around her shoulders and down her back, artful in its disorder, down to the single, stubborn cowlick at the top of her head.

In short, she’s beautiful, and Blake stares for longer than she should, feeling heat in her veins.

“Do what?”

She manages a response, but it’s absent minded. She’s just noticed the light dusting of pink on the woman’s cheeks, coloring the spaces in between her freckles, and it has her re-evaluating, pulling her thoughts to the effort she’s put into her own outfit that evening: a cropped and sleeveless hoodie with blocked colors of white and purple, tight leather shorts, and clunky boots that hit just under the knee. Blake looks good and this woman knows it, which makes them even on this particular front, and that's a settling sort of feeling.

“Win,” the woman says simply, her smile growing. “And don’t just say NOS.”

“NOS,” Blake drawls, just because she can, and she’s rewarded by the woman’s laugh, rewarded even more when she steps closer.

“No, but what’s your delivery method? Direct port, obviously, but you had to have used a custom kit, right? I’ve been telling you, Yang, I need to recalibrate yours. Can I look at your car? Would you mind if I just took a tiny peak just to see what you’ve done with your injection site? We really need to upgrade, Yang. A nozzle with less back pressure will give you a better squeeze. I’ve been telling you!”

She hadn’t noticed the other woman, but blinks at her now, a red blur waving her arms about, hoping from one foot to the other, firing out words faster than Blake — an aficionado of all things fast — can keep up with. The woman (Yang?) seems to find the act familiar and reacts with affection tinged with a false exasperation (put upon for Blake’s benefit or maybe as a means of gentle chiding), sighing and placing a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder.

“And I’ve been telling you, you can’t just ask people to look at their shit!” She turns to Blake now, and this time her eye roll is definitely for Blake. “Sorry about that, I swear we’re not trying to steal any of your trade secrets. Ruby just… really likes cars.”

“It’s so pretty too,” Ruby coos, batting away Yang’s hand and taking a step towards the vehicle Blake had used to push past Yang at the last moment, a fact neither of these women seem to hold against her. “The purple stripes. But I bet the engine is prettier.”

It’s unprecedented, really. Blake’s been on the scene for a while — longer than she would admit to anyone here — first as a tagalong and now as a driver, but she’s never had an encounter quite like this. The unexpectedness of it all has her feeling off-balance, has her reacting without any of her customary cool anger as Ruby stares at her hood (as though if she focuses hard enough, she’ll be able to see through the metal to the parts underneath). Maybe that’s why Blake responds in a way that’s decidedly unwise, without any further thought at all.

“You can take a look. I don’t mind.”

“Really?” Ruby squeals, but doesn’t wait for Blake to confirm, darting around her and flipping open the hood in the span of three seconds.

“Really?” Yang asks, and the word sounds wildly different coming from her, sliding out from behind her crooked lips like thanks or maybe a challenge (or maybe both). “Not worried about my mechanic figuring you out before the next race?”

Blake should be, of course. But.

“Can’t say I am.”

“Maybe not the smartest move.” Yang crosses her arms; the chrome of her right glints under one of the flickering street lights. For the first time, she looks away from Blake’s gaze, eyes darting over to check on Ruby (who’s leaning so far into the front of Blake’s car that her feet nearly lift off the ground) and then to another group of drivers, a good distance behind them, but clearly watching in curiosity. It’s never wise to gather after a race, but everyone always does when it goes well, and for the first time, Blake’s glad for it. “She’s pretty vicious about giving me an edge. I wish I could say it was familial loyalty, but really, she just wants to make the fastest car in the city.” Yang pauses, tilting her head in thought. “Or country. Or world. Not sure when she’ll be satisfied, to be honest.”

“Sisters?” Blake asks. She can’t really see the resemblance, but then again, she hasn’t spent as much time looking at the younger of the pair, even though she should probably be less focused on the elder (the one not pouring over her engine. Sun and Ilia were going to kill her).

“Yeah.” Yang probably doesn’t realize how much her smile grows in the confirmation, saturated with pride and love. “Scary brilliant too. Give her five minutes with a car and she’ll take it apart, put it back together, and it’ll run better than it ever has. But all that means she always thinks it’s the car that puts a driver ahead.”

Blake arches a brow. “And you think she’s… wrong?”

“Well, yeah.” Yang’s closer than Blake remembers her being, maybe because her legs are long, her strides somehow longer, and it only takes a step before she’s close enough for Blake to feel the heat radiating off her body. “I know it’s only the driver that puts a driver ahead. That’s why I’m here talking to you instead of looking at your car.” Her lips twitch and she amends her statement quickly. “Part of the reason, at least.”

The other part of her reasoning is made pretty obvious when Yang’s eyes trace up Blake’s form once more. It should probably bother Blake, but it doesn’t, maybe because she’s done the same to Yang during this conversation (more than once). Still, there are things better avoided, and Blake knows this better than anyone. She does her best to get back on track.

“It wasn’t me,” she says (almost blurts), and then feels her neck warm when Yang looks at her quizzically. “Before, you asked how I won. But it wasn’t me, not really. You could have had it if you hadn’t fired your nitrous early. You were impatient.”

It’s too blunt, Blake knows this as soon as the words leave her lips. She’s backtracked too much, retreated into aloofness as she was wont to do, but Yang only laughs, and the sound cracks through Blake’s go-to defense, a corner of her lips curling before she can stop it.

“You’re right. I used to be way worse, back when I started out, but I’m a lot better now. Usually.”

“So what happened today?” It’s the question Yang wants her to ask, of this Blake is sure, but it hardly feels like a chore.

“Ah, bad luck, I guess. I took one look at the driver next to me and all that impatience came rushing back. All I wanted to do was finish the race and meet her properly.” She winks. Combined with the cheesy line, it shouldn’t work as well as it does (but it does). “I’m Yang.”

“Blake.”

They don’t shake hands, and Blake’s glad for it. There’s something buzzing between them, a tingling sensation at the tips of her fingers, the build up right before a lightning strike, and Blake’s not entirely sure what the contact — however brief and friendly — might do to her.

“Next time, maybe I’ll be a little more prepared.” Yang’s eyes roam across her face, settling once more on gold. “But probably not.”

“Immersion therapy,” Blake quips. “Give it time.”

Yang whistles sharply, and it takes Blake a moment to realize that she’s called her sister back over. (Blake had forgotten about her entirely, though the grease on her hands and face leads her to believe that Ruby had done a thorough dive under her hood, the sort Blake ought to be worried about.)

“Time is exactly what I plan on giving it. A lot of time, if you’ll let me.” Yang nudges her sister back in the direction they’d come from. Ruby waves, offers a wide grin of thanks, but Blake’s stuck on purple.

“Well. Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she murmurs.

“Looking forward to it.”

And Blake, who started racing to get away, who started racing to run, who started racing so she never had to stay in one place for long, finds that she is too.

—

“What the hell is your problem?”

Blake’s used to this question too, or some form of it, and this time, the tone is exactly what she expects. The small, white-haired woman in a vest and tie, however, is not.

“Listen, I’m sorry I hurt your boyfriend’s feelings by being a better driver than him, but you’re only embarrassing yourself now.” Blake takes another look at the woman’s attire; her sleeves are rolled up to her elbows and — despite the country club hairstyle and the heels — the hint of a tattoo on her pale skin, just under the fabric makes up Blake’s mind for her. “Or… Girlfriend?”

“Not quite,” says a familiar voice.

Today, Yang has decided to show off her abs (and she most certainly does have abs) with a cropped jacket of black and gold checks, and Blake can’t quite bring herself to look beyond that for too long, though she catches the black driving gloves, the oversized and gold sunglasses, the oversized cargo pants. In the seconds it takes for Blake to wind her brain back up, Yang grins, cocksure, and continues.

“Though you were right about the gay thing. I mean, look at her.”

“Look at you,” the other woman sniffs, actually physically turning up her nose. “Could you be any gayer?”

“Yeah, I could be wearing a vest and tie,” Yang fires back, but it’s clear the banter is familiar, it’s obvious these two know each other well enough for their back and forth to not contain any real barbs.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” Blake drawls, before she’s able to stop herself, and Yang turns back to her with an arched brow. “Good to see you again, Yang.”

“Oh, is it? Could have fooled me!” The other woman’s ire has been refocused, and it’s seemingly stronger than before, the pitch of her words higher, more dire. “Given you nearly killed her just now.”

“Weiss,” Yang sighs, but Blake winces, feeling the sting of the words despite Yang’s quick glance of reassurance sent her way.

“I didn’t realize you’d pull off when I drifted. I thought you’d… lean in.”

It’s not an excuse. They’d been neck and neck towards the end of the race (again), and when she’d nudged the side of Yang’s car — far gentler than she would against anyone else — she’d assumed the woman would give as good as she got, like most every other racer she’d gone against. But Yang hadn’t taken any chances, and it’d cost her the race.

“We don’t do that here,” the woman — Weiss — says, lips pursed to the point of contortion, but Yang only laughs.

“We do that here all the time. I did way worse to Mercury last week.”

“Yes, but Mercury is a creep.” Weiss pauses, considering. “We only do that to creeps here.”

Blake’s hands lift, a show of peace. “Hey, no one handed me the Beacon Street Racing Etiquette Guide when I joined up the other week. Maybe you could loan me your copy.”

This doesn’t exactly smooth things over with the woman, especially not when Yang snickers, but Weiss can clearly see the writing on the wall, and tosses her hair over her shoulder with a huff.

“Whatever. I’m telling Ruby about this,” she warns Yang (or maybe Blake, or maybe both of them), before stalking away, her last words called over her shoulder. “She’s not going to be happy.”

There’s no concern on Yang’s face as she watches her go, if anything she looks amused. “Sorry about that. She’s… protective.”

“I can see that. I guess that’s what happens when you’ve been friends with someone for a while.” It’s a guess (and a probe), but Yang doesn’t correct any of her phrasing, so it must be close enough to the truth.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean protective of me.” Yang’s grin shows a flash of white teeth. “Weiss bet on me tonight. You lost her money. And that’s the real sin.”

Blake’s surprised at how easily her laugh comes (more surprised how easily the fondness slips through the cracks in her chest). “Oh, I see. So I can kick your ass up and down the streets as long as I convince her to bet on me in the future? Good to know.”

“I’m not sure that’s the message I want you to be taking from this,” Yang drawls, but still smiles, flicking her glasses up to her forehead. “Besides, like she said, Ruby’s the one to look out for. She seemed all sweet and innocent yesterday, but gods help the person she turns her disapproving stare on. I’ve seen people break into tears on the spot.”

From what Blake had seen yesterday, Ruby isn’t the sort that loses her chipper bounce very easily, so despite Yang’s teasing tone, she files the information away as useful. If she were being a little more self-searching, she might question the action, given her tendency to not stick around in any one place for long. (Surely Beacon isn’t any different. Surely she couldn’t know now if it were.)

“Lucky she missed the race today, then.” Her lips curve, a sharp corner that would require a drift. “What, she couldn’t bear to see you lose again?”

“Oh, ha ha. No, she had class. And she knows there’s no skipping for racing; that’s the only hard and fast rule for our household.” It’s not what she expects, the straight answer backed with genuinity, but it strikes Blake as endearing, somehow, especially when Yang continues. “I started racing here so we could pay for those classes, so I think it’s only fair.”

“That’s — ” Kind. Authentic. Surprising. Blake’s not sure which word to use so she disgards them all. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type who was racing for the money. Not that… there’s anything wrong with that. Especially in your case.”

Yang laughs. “Hey, don’t mistake me. I started racing here for the money, but it’s not why I race in general.”

“So why do you?” Blake asks, even though she suspects she knows the answer. (It’s not wise to take your eyes off the road, but she’s done it in both of her races with Yang, eyes darting to the side to find the woman speeding alongside her: eyes wild, grin wide, the fervor of the moment all over her face. There’s freedom there, more than there is anywhere else, and Blake thinks she sees that in Yang as much as she does in herself.)

“Same as you, I think,” Yang murmurs, closer now, sliding in when Blake’s distracted once again.

“I’m not sure you know me well enough to say that.”

A bluff, of course, but it gets the intended result.

“Not yet.” From this close, Yang looks taller, and Blake has to tilt her chin to look into her eyes. “But I’m still looking to fix that.”

Blake wets her lips. It’s too much, and she’s not sure she can tack on ‘too soon’ to quantify the thought, make it less tame. If she had to guess, Yang will always be too much, like sunlight after coming out of a room. Blake’s not sure she’ll ever adjust to the rays, or if she wants to.

“Let’s see how you do in the next race,” she says again, and Yang laughs again, totally unabashed.

“Okay, I’m sensing a trend here. What, you’re not going to let me take you out unless I win a race again you?”

“If I say ‘yes’, what are you going to do?”

It’s not cockiness that overtakes Yang’s face then, not exactly. It’s confidence or want or determination or maybe just the flush that comes from the thrill of a challenge. Blake’s setting herself up for something here, she knows, failure or disappointment or something like it, but right then, she doesn’t care. There’s a freedom in this sort of race too, and that she’s come to love.

“Oh, that’s easy, Blake.” Yang leans in a little more, and Blake knows it’s audible, the way her breath is cut short. “I’m going to win.”

[bcdwhcre]

hello love !! i absolutely adore your writing, i find you do the characters so much justice <3 i was wondering if you would be able to do a piece where the reader, a mewly appointed captain of the regiment, has a talent for drawing that no one knew about. she suddenly finds time for this hobby and commences drawing portraits of her fellow comrades, mainly of levi, and picks up the habit of leaving all the sketches under the door of erwins chambers once a month, thinking it would be a great anonymous gift or at least, some fun. levi does not see it as fun and instead is convinced this is a threat to him directly and that someone is watching them, making it known that they can attack at any time. everyone hunts for the culprit in secret, the reader doesn’t know bcs she’s in the capital delivering something. levi finds out it was the reader and they fight physically about it, accusing her of treason etc... until reader confesess it was her and that she had feelings for him, he says he likes her back but she should’ve brought a different approach , fluff in the end <3 much love <33

“Works of Art,” Levi x Reader

Why can I see Levi being dramatic like this over some drawings🤧💀

Summary: You’re secretly an artist that draws your fellow comrades (mostly Levi) and secretly leave it under their door but Levi takes it as a threat.

Warnings: none

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You had sat in your room, pencil in hand and a piece of paper laid out in front of you. You didn’t know what to draw at first but your mind settled on your previous Captain.

You’ll admit that most of your drawings has been Levi and you couldn’t help but feel the urge to draw him, he had the most perfect facial structure- at least to you and it was much better to draw out on paper.

Of course you’ve drawn your other comrades from time to time. You’ve even slide the drawings underneath their doors at odd hours so nobody knew it was you.

It’s not like you didn’t want them to know but a scout spending their days slaughtering Titans just to come home and draw wasn’t exactly an ideal topic you wanted to get into.

As time went on, the more you paint and draw out Levi on the canvas in front of you, your stomach would flutter, being able to admire his face without staring him down from across the room.

You admired Levi more than anything, he really inspired you in ways he doesn’t even know about. The first day you saw him riding down the town with his horse, coming back from a expedition and you were standing off to the side just a teenager.

That day, that look on his face, the way he carried his team and was the most popular for his skills- you wanted to be like him and after convincing your family (more like telling them you’re not taking no for an answer) they finally let you go off to the training corps.

Now years later, you’re here. You were under Levi’s team for well over two years before you got pushed up to be a Captain but you missed the moments being under Levi’s team- you enjoyed every moment. You missed the days he’ll willingly train you and push you towards success and that was the main reason why you were so great at being a scout, why you were pushed up as a Captain.

You looked up to him, you watched his work and you trained yourself into oblivion to be as good as he is.

Now you’re sitting here on your day off painting his face. You were embarrassed thinking too hard about it, if he were to walk in right now- it’ll be over for you. You wouldn’t be able to look at his face again.

Months went by quickly, the more drawings you had left under your comrades door- the more Levi started to see it as a threat as he looked at the piece of paper with his face on it.

He even called a meeting with Erwin to discuss about the drawings, he felt as if he was being targetted- that the scouts were being targetted and he didn’t take this lightly.

He was more determined to find out who it is and even told a few close comrades to search in secret. You didn’t know this- only because you were in the town doing some work.

Levi noticed you didn’t come to the meeting and walked inside your office, his eyes looking around and he didn’t want to be nosey but out of the corner of his eye- towards the back of the office tucked in the corner was some paint.

This interested him enough to walk over, flipping open the sketch book and seeing the pages, the drawings and even found a few of his face. This immediately boiled his blood, you were a traitor- you were targeting him- that’s all he could think of.

He stormed out of there, grabbing his things and walked outside to try and find you. It was absolutely the worst timing for you- you stepped inside the land where the base was at while fixing the uncomfortable gear you wore around your waist until unexpectedly Levi had charged at you with his sword.

You were thinking this is his sick way of testing out your ability and training- he usually did back when you worked under him.

You slipped your blade out with ease and blocked his attack that near struck your face.

“Levi?!” Your eyes were wide at how close the blade was, he could’ve easily killed you and he didn’t seem phased.

Instead he used his leg to trip you on your back, wincing at the impact of the ground and he held his blade towards your throat with his foot rested on top of your chest to prevent you from moving.

“What the hell are you doing? Is this some sick training exercise?”

“Why have you been sending threats to my office, brat?” He stared at you with a look of disgust on his face and you froze, what threats?

“What are you talking about?”

“The drawings. Are you a traitor? Are you threatening to kill me?” He pressed the blade down more, the tip of it just barely touching your skin but from how sharp it was- it was made a cut.

“They’re just drawings, Levi!” You gave him a crazy look, he was acting completely insane, who acts like this over drawings of them? Shouldn’t he feel special?

“Why is your sketch book mostly my face then, hm? Explain that before I slice your throat here.”

You opened your mouth to say something but quickly shut it. You didn’t want to openly admit your feelings towards him and you sure felt violated for him snooping around in your office. But you also felt completely embarrassed- he’s seen your sketch book.

A lump formed in your throat, your eyes looking away from his as your cheeks started to grow hot and he got impatient, grabbing the collar of your shirt and yanked you up on your feet.

Now you were face to face with him, the dirty look he was giving you could instantly kill you if it was possible and you felt intimidated and terrified.

“Use your words, brat! I’m running out of patience.”

“Okay! Okay.” You put your hands up in defeat, your eyes connecting with his and your hands started to get sweaty.

“I- uh... how do I put this? Most of my drawings are... of you. Only because I admire you, you’ve inspired me to join, to train harder than most and I also.. like you.” You rushed the last part out, your cheeks red as a tomato and he stared at you in disbelief at first.

“So, you draw me because you like me?”

“Yeah, exactly.” You stuttered, biting down onto your bottom lip and he let go of you collar, making you stumble back.

“Why be so secretive about it then?” He asked, putting his blade away and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You’re not the easiest person to open up to, Levi.” You admitted, scratching the back of your neck and he gave you a unamused look.

“Look, Y/N.” He started off, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Honestly, you could’ve just done it in a different way instead of acting like a spy. Maybe if you would’ve been straight forward, I would tell you I like you just as much.” He looked up at you again, making your heart stop for a quick second.

Did he just admit feelings for you after holding a blade to your throat? You were stunned, you didn’t even know what to say about his confession but it made butterflies fly around in your stomach and your cheeks were turning a shade of red again.

He noticed how flustered you were, chuckling to himself and reached over to place his hand on your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the warm skin and your eyes stared into his.

“Oh- sorry, I guess I should’ve done a different approach.” You said quietly, your hands starting to get shaky as his eyes burned right through you.

“Yeah, you should’ve.” He rolled his eyes, gesturing him to follow you inside and you were quick to follow behind him as he went straight for your office.

Once both of you were inside, he was quick to grab your sketch book and open it back up again. He turned more pages and looked at the drawings he didn’t bother to examine earlier.

You felt shy being in here and watching him go through your sketch book at the many drawings of his face- you even had a drawing of his hands and that made him laugh under his breath at the sight of it.

“You’re talented, I give you that.” He closed the book, setting it down and walked to where you were as you leaned back against your desk.

“Oh, thank you.” You gave him a shy smile, your heart pounding in your chest the closer he got to you.

“Now what if I actually killed you because you were being so sneaky?” He asked quietly, the sarcasm in his tone made you tilt your head as you thought about it.

“Guess I would’ve died an idiot.”

He rolled his eyes again, standing in front of you and even leaned forward to trap you between your desk and his body as he gripped onto the edges of the desk, his eyes staying on yours.

He tilted his head, almost admiring your face and you stayed quiet as the tension grew between the both of you.

“How bout you draw me right here, right now.” He offered, making you raise your eyebrows at his suggestion.

“Really?” He nodded his head, a smile coming across your face as he stepped back and grabbed one of the chairs.

You were quick to grab your sketch book and sit down in front of him, the excitement running through your veins as you grabbed a pencil and opened up to a empty page.

Your eyes moved up to meet his, watching the smile on his face only grow and it made your heart flutter considering it was rare to see him smile and it was rare for him to even agree to do something like this.

But he sat in front you, intrigued and wanting to watch your work up close and how it’s done. He was also very intrigued in you and the hobby you loved so much.

During the time of you drawing him, you had finished up his face before he had leaned over and grabbed a hold of your chin in his hand.

The sudden contact caught you off guard, your eyes staring into his before he had planted his lips on yours in a short but soft kiss.

When he pulled away, he had licked his lips and leaned back against the seat, urging you to continue on as your shaky hand tried to finish off the work of art named Levi.

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Woooooooo hello

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

[hyungieyoongi]

History: “Run Away to You” Part 2

How could you have protected me?

When the world I needed protecting from didn’t even know about us?

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Former Actress!Reader

Word Count: 2.3K

Genre: Angst (Not gonna lie, this part is pretty angsty. Please don’t hate me, we have to set up the angst to get to the fluff later, okay??)

Warnings: Reader has a panic attack, mentions of anxiety, arguing, crying – there are a lot of emotions Reader and Yoongi have to process

Series Masterlist: Run Away to You 

Premise: You ran away from your acting career one year ago, disappearing from the spotlight without a trace. No one from your past life knew where to find you. On the anniversary of your disappearance, your carefully constructed reality is shattered.

Part 1 // Part 3

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Your hands shook as you tried to fit the key into the lock of your apartment door. You missed the keyhole twice, finally succeeding in twisting the lock open with a satisfying click on your third attempt. Swinging the door open with a sigh, you gestured for Yoongi to head in first. You hadn’t spoken a single word to each other since you left the corner store. The silence created a thick tension for the duration of your short, one-block walk.

He walked into your apartment without a glance in your direction, slipping his shoes off by the front door. As he stepped further into your apartment, you closed the door, taking a few deep breaths to try and calm yourself down.

Flashback

The first time Yoongi came to your apartment, you had been a nervous wreck. You anxiously kept glancing at the clock on the wall–he was supposed to be there at 8:00 p.m. It was currently 8:03 p.m., and you were already thinking he wasn’t going to show.

A costar on the K-drama you were cast in had introduced the two of you at an awards show you were invited to attend three months ago. Yoongi seemed nice, but quiet, shaking your hand politely and asking if you enjoyed your work. The conversation lasted maybe two minutes. Fleeting, meaningless.

Then you ran into him again two months later at an album launch party for another popular K-pop group. The conversation was longer this time, Yoongi slipping away from his bandmates to talk to you. The champagne you were drinking that night made you giggly, your cheeks pink from the alcohol. He asked for your number, a gummy smile appearing when you said “yes” a little too enthusiastically.  

After texting casually, you progressed to phone calls, then video calls. This was the first time you were going to hang out together. Movies and takeout had never felt so intimidating. There was a knock at your door, and you sprang up to answer it. You took a deep breath, counted to five, and then opened the door, Yoongi standing there with a sheepish smile, donning a black hoodie.

“Hi, Y/N.”

End of Flashback

You spun around when you heard Yoongi cough, finally breaking the silence.

“Your apartment is different than I thought it would be,” Yoongi observed. He took off his hat and his mask, placing them on your coffee table in front of the couch. He shook out his hair, running his right hand through the dark locks. You swallowed hard, blaming the slight flush to your cheeks on nerves rather than how attractive Yoongi looked messing with his hair.

Your old apartment had been large and glamorous, outfitted with state-of-the-art appliances and expensive furniture. This one was a third of the size and infinitely cozier and more comfortable.

“Well, my old apartment was paid for by the production company. When I moved, I figured I’d get something a little more ‘me,’” you explained.  

“Right. When you moved,” Yoongi emphasized, bitterness lacing his words. “You mean ran away, right?”

“Listen, Yoongi, I know you probably want an explanation–”

“I think I deserve an explanation, don’t you?” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyebrow quirking up slightly. You had seen that incredulous look on his face before when you two had gotten into arguments.

Flashback

“Come on, Yoongs, you have to be better about taking care of yourself. This pace is unsustainable, and you know it,” you said to him angrily. You were sat on the couch in the Genius Lab, the man in question glaring at you from the chair at his desk.

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you. Y/N, you were filming until 3:00 a.m. yesterday because you wanted the shot to be perfect. Don’t start with me on this,” Yoongi countered.

“But you’re here until 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. every night, Yoongi. Just because I do it once or twice a month does not give you an excuse to overwork yourself.”

He grumbled something you couldn’t hear under his breath, turning back to his computer. You got up from the couch, standing behind him and placing your hands on his shoulders. Your fingers dug gently into the tense muscles of his back. Yoongi relaxed, slouching forward slightly at your touch. You brushed your nose against his neck, placing a gentle kiss there. You heard a tired sigh leave his lips, and you knew the argument was over.

End of Flashback

You figured you wouldn’t win this argument so easily.

Yoongi looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to start an impossible conversation.

“Yes, you’re right. You do deserve an explanation. And I did try to give you one in that letter, Yoongi.” He scoffed at the mention of the letter.

“Don’t even go there, Y/N. A letter telling me to let you go. Really? I wasn’t even worth an in-person goodbye? Let alone the fact that you could have just told me where you were going,” Yoongi started pacing, frustration evident in his voice.

You went to the kitchen, filling a glass with water before taking a long gulp. Your throat suddenly felt extremely dry. You knew he was going to be angry with you if he ever saw you again, but you weren’t prepared for the onslaught of emotions–anger, frustration, helplessness–that you were feeling in this moment.

You placed your hands on the counter to steady yourself, and Yoongi stopped pacing, waiting for you to say something.

“If I told you where I was going, I would never have been able to stop seeing you. And if I didn’t stop seeing you, then I couldn’t get a normal life back. There was nothing I could do but try to move on,” you said, exasperated.

Yoongi took two steps closer to the counter that separated the two of you. It felt like a chasm.

“We were together for six months, I lov–I cared about you. I could have protected you,” Yoongi said quietly, voice cracking.

You looked down, staring down at your knuckles gripping the counter so hard they were turning white. Your eyes started to burn with the effort to hold back tears.

“You, better than anyone, know what it’s like to feel like you’re suffocating. Constantly being watched and picked apart and prodded and asked for more. I was on the verge of breaking down. If I didn’t get out when I did, I would have lost myself. I didn’t have a choice. I had to leave. I didn’t…I didn’t want to leave you. But I had to.”

The tears were starting to fall, one by one, down your cheeks. You let them, still staring at your hands. As soon as the words started tumbling out of your mouth, you couldn’t seem to stop them.

“The entire time we were together, we were a secret. We were always at one of our apartments or your studio, sneaking in and out in the dark. So, how? How could you have protected me? When the world I needed protecting from didn’t even know about us?”

You wiped angrily at your tears, face burning at your vulnerability. Finally looking at Yoongi, you saw tears brimming his own eyes. He refused to look away.

“I ran because I didn’t know what else to do. I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry. But you couldn’t protect me. I had to protect myself.”

Yoongi quickly blinked a few times, trying to rid himself of the tears threatening to spill. 

“You never even answered your phone. I left you dozens of voicemails. I didn’t know if you were okay. You put me through hell. You could have at least just told me you hated me and that you wanted nothing to do with me,” Yoongi rebutted.

“Don’t you get it? I don’t hate you. If I had tried to say goodbye, to end things in-person, I never would have gone through with it. I would have stayed,” you admitted with a sob. “I would have stayed to be with you.”

“Would that have been so bad?” Yoongi asked, his voice rising slightly. “Would it have really been that bad to be with me?”

“It wasn’t about that! I felt like I was already sacrificing my sanity. What was I going to do? Hide away with you forever? I couldn’t even handle my own life, let alone if I became the public girlfriend of a BTS member.”

Yoongi’s lips fell into a flat line.

“That’s not fair. You can’t blame this on me and my career just because you couldn’t stand your own,” Yoongi’s voice was suddenly calm, but his eyes flashed with anger and hurt. “This was your choice. I would have made it work. I would have tried to figure it out with you and this new life you wanted. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

You opened your mouth to respond and defend yourself, but nothing came out. It felt like you had gotten punched in the stomach. You started to breathe heavily, panic quickly engulfing you.

You practically sprinted to the couch past a confused and startled Yoongi, sitting down on the couch and putting your head in your lap, counting backwards from ten and then starting over, again and again, trying to slow your heart rate.

You registered a body next to yours on the couch. A tentative hand reached out, rubbing soothing circles onto your back. He didn’t say anything, waiting patiently for your breathing to return to normal.

You lifted your head slowly, not knowing how long had passed. You didn’t dare look at Yoongi yet.

“When did you start having panic attacks?” he asked gently.

“Over a year ago,” your voice was scratchy from your heavy breathing. Yoongi tensed at the mention of the time spent apart, now seeing one of the repercussions of the stress that you had alluded to while you both were arguing about your mutual history. He didn’t move his hand from where it rested on your back. “I’m really…I really am sorry, Yoongi.”

“I know,” his voice held a level of understanding in it that it didn’t before. He paused, his hand lifting from your back. “I think I should go.”  

You remember what it felt like a year ago to write the letter that would end things with Yoongi for good. It was like your heart was set aflame, burning in pain at your choice to walk away. A year later, Yoongi was the one holding the match.

He stood from the couch, grabbing his hat and his mask. You watched him put on his shoes from your spot on the couch, unmoving.

“I meant it, you know,” Yoongi said, his hand on the doorknob, ready to walk out of your life like you had his. “I would have tried.”

“I know,” you repeated his words, a sad, tight-lipped smile painting your lips. He walked out the door.

---

Once Yoongi left, you raced to your bedroom, pulling open the last drawer of your dresser and throwing the sweatshirts that lined the bottom onto your carpet. There it was, in the back right corner–the phone that you stashed away a year ago, the phone number still active just in case.

You grabbed it, trying the power button hastily, but it didn’t turn on.

“Ugh, come ON!” you yelled to your empty apartment in frustration. You plugged it into the charger on your nightstand, waiting for it to charge.

You picked off your nail polish, your nails bare by the time you tried to turn it on a second time. This time the screen flashed white. You ignored the pit in your stomach, sinking to the floor with the phone grasped tightly in your hand. You sat with your back to your bed, the phone cord stretching to reach you.  

Ignoring the red icons alerting you of the dozens of missed calls and texts, you went straight to voicemail, scrolling rapidly with your thumb until you reached a voicemail from this date last year. 

You pressed play.

Hey, babe, why aren’t you answering your texts? Marianne dropped some paper off for me today, apparently, but I haven’t had a chance to swing by the studio to grab it yet. Call me when you get this, okay?

Your fingers moved on their own to play the next one.

Y/N. You need to answer your phone. This letter I…I’m worried about you. Please, you can’t do this. Don’t leave me. Not like this.

Tears began to stain your cheeks as you listened to Yoongi’s voice go from fearful, to angry, to desperate, all within a span of a few hours, then days, then weeks. With each voicemail, you started to feel worse, but you couldn’t stop yourself. You needed to keep going.

Just tell me where you are. You don’t have to talk to me, but I need to know that you’re okay.

The last message from his number was from seven months ago.

I get it. You don’t want to see me. Probably ever again. So, I’ll do what you told me to do. I’ll let you go. But just know, Y/N, that I loved you. And I think I might always love you. I hope this new life you have makes you happy. I wish I could have made you happy enough to stay.

You let out a quiet sob as your fingers dialed one of the only numbers you had memorized.

“Hello? Y/N, is that you? Why are you using this number?” Marianne answered on the second ring, immediately alarmed.

“Marianne, can you come over? Something’s happened.”

---

“Y/N? Where are you?” Marianne called into your apartment. She had used her copy of your apartment key to get in the door when you didn’t answer her persistent knocks.

You sniffled in response.

Marianne looked into your bedroom, seeing you curled into yourself on the floor. You hadn’t moved since you listened to Yoongi’s voicemails.

She sat beside you and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. You couldn’t help but wish it was him here comforting you instead.

You had suppressed your love and feelings for him for so many months. Today, you had to confront them, confront the power Yoongi still had over you.

The pain and hurt splashed across Yoongi’s face was fresh on your mind as you cried into your friend’s arms.

Part 1 // Part 3

---

Taglist: @loveyoongles @agustd-2020 @delacyrose224 @crispychanniee @sunshinejunghoseokie @jinsearthh @alpacaparkaseok @sheebaba​

Want to be added to the tag list? Let me know!

Check out my other work! ❤️

[angellesword]

YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (02)

➭ You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It’s simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if…Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively;

“A future without you is a world without color.”

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, unrequited love, heavy angst, fluff, lawyer au.

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 2.7k

SERIES: CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 3

"Please, Joon. I just need to know if he's okay..."

Namjoon scratched the back of his head while looking at Red. The latter was practically begging him to spill things he's been forbidden to utter. He was sure he's just seconds away from telling her what she wanted to know, but then he's abruptly reminded of how heartbroken Jungkook was.

"Don't tell her I'm here," tears painted Jungkook's cheeks. "I don't want to see her. Not now." Or ever...

"He's not here, Red. I'm sorry," Namjoon sighed, trying to close the front door of his small apartment; regrettably, Red stopped him before the door shut in her sad face."I know he doesn't want to see me." She said with a shaky voice—causing Namjoon to purse his lips into a thin line.

"Right." He couldn't help but say. She deserved the snarky remark for hurting Jungkook beyond repair.

"But I'm worried about him. H-He was...so mad when he left."

'Who wouldn't?' Namjoon wanted to say, yet he kept his lips glued together. He needed to remind himself that although she hurt Jungkook, Red was still his friend.

"I'm sure he'll be fine wherever he is." Namjoon's caught Red's eyes. "Jungkook is strong, you know."

"I know." She looked at her feet; this caused the man inside the house to also look down. Namjoon was so busy shooing Red away that he didn't notice a big box on the ground. Judging by the looks of it, he deduced that this box belonged to Jungkook. The tower of sketchpads and other art materials was already a giveaway.

"Can you give this to him, though? I'm not sure when I'll get to see him again, and I know he can't live without this stuff, so..." Red picked up the box. "Please, Joonie..." She added when the older boy didn't say anything.

"Fine."

In the end, Namjoon gave in. He didn't have a choice. This was the only way to make her leave; however, he instantly regretted his decision when he spotted Jungkook sitting on the couch."What did she say?" Jungkook inquired eagerly; his eyes flew on the box that's juggling in Namjoon's arms. Jungkook saw his friend trip over a non-existent stone.

Namjoon was really clumsy.

"She wants me to give this to you." The older boy handed the box to Jungkook in exchange for his precious daughter.

"Ji-eun..." Namjoon cooed, bopping the nose of his three-year-old child. Ji-eun chuckled; her little finger was poking her father's deep dimple.

"Appa!" Ji-eun's eyes twinkled. She missed being in her father's embrace even though it hadn't been long since Namjoon left her with Jungkook.

Ji-eun couldn't help it. Jungkook used to be the fun uncle, but all he did now was cry and snort. Admittedly, she's getting tired of wiping his tears every second.

She wondered who made uncle Jungkook cry.

"Huh." Jungkook huffed as he examined what was inside the box. Namjoon was right. It's full of the younger boy's stuff.

"Is she really so eager to kick me out of the house that she personally brought my things here!?"Jungkook was seeing red. Profanities left his lips as acid dripped down his stomach. He's so mad at his ex.

"Language, Jeon," Namjoon warned, turning away from Jungkook. He couldn't let Ji-eun listen to the younger boy's dirty mouth. "Besides, you're the one who left."

Jungkook didn't know how to respond to that, mainly because Namjoon was correct. He was the one who left in the middle of the fight. In his defense, he was hurt. What Red was saying was too much for him—it was painful, the kind of pain he knew would forever haunt him.

"I love him, Kook."

Red's confession echoed in Jungkook's mind again. Red told him she loved her soulmate. Jungkook didn't want to believe her because how? How could she fall in love with another man just by looking at him in the eyes?

"We've been seeing each other for months now."

His question had been answered. Red was a cheater, and it's the last straw for Jungkook. He couldn't take it anymore, so he stood up.

"I hate you, bitch!"

The pain that crossed Red's face indicated that Jungkook had gone too far. He didn't mean it, but he's hurt, and this was the only way he could hurt her back.

Before Red could say anything, Jungkook was already out of the door.

It's two am in the morning. Jungkook was certain that the only awake person that he could bother right now was none other than Namjoon, his brother-in-law.

Thankfully, Namjoon's apartment was just a few blocks away from Red's home.

"Kook?" Namjoon squinted his eyes after opening the door. He's been awake for straight twenty-seven hours to the point that he couldn't tell if Jungkook was really in front of him or if he's just hallucinating.

"Hyung..." Jungkook broke into tears upon seeing his only family.

Namjoon let the crying boy inside his house.

"I ran out of tea..." This was Namjoon's excuse when he handed Jungkook Ji-eun's milk. Namjoon didn't even have time to buy his groceries since his daughter occupied most of his time.

Fortunately, it looked like Jungkook didn't give two fucks as he was already halfway finished drinking the warm milk.

It's been exactly fifteen minutes since the younger boy came knocking on Namjoon's humble abode. Jungkook had stopped crying, though he still looked a little shaken.

"Red found her soulmate..." Jungkook spoke right before Namjoon could ask what happened. Suddenly, the older boy found himself biting his bottom lip. He didn't want to pry about Jungkook's life, but then he's reminded of the wish of Hye-Jin, his late wife.

"Take care of my brother, Joon..."

"D-Do you wanna talk about it?" Namjoon asked before he changed his mind. This was the only thing he could do for Hye-Jin.

"What's there to talk about?" Jungkook hissed even though he's the one who started telling Namjoon things. The latter kept his head low. In times like this, he wasn't sure what to say.

It's not like he's better than Red. Namjoon also broke up with the woman he was dating right after meeting Hye-Jin. The only difference was that Namjoon's ex perfectly understood the situation. She knew that they weren't destined to be together.

"She cheated on me. She said she's in love with her soulmate." The bitter taste in Jungkook's mouth was still there. It only strengthened as soon as the word 'soulmate' left his lips. Jungkook continued pouring his heart out to Namjoon despite saying he didn't want to talk about it.

"She's going to regret leaving me. No one can love her the way I do!" Jungkook swore, but Namjoon's almost 100% sure he's wrong.

Seeing colors were different. It felt like everything was perfect. Namjoon couldn't deny that one of the many reasons he fell in love with Hye-Jin was because she helped him see the wonderful hues.

It's like the more he fell in love with her, the brighter the colors became. Even now that she's dead, Namjoon could still see colors. Granted that it kind of faded, it's still the best thing Namjoon was proud to experience.

The rule of the world was simple. As long as your soulmate was in love with you, the colors would always be visible in your very eyes. It would only become less bright if your soulmate died. However, the case of a one-sided love was different. People wouldn't be able to see colors if their soulmates didn't give them their hearts.

Some said that there were cases wherein people went blind when their soulmates started to hate them. Namjoon and Jungkook didn't know if it was true or just a myth. After all, they hadn't encountered people who apparently 'went' blind because of the mentioned reason."I'm telling you, hyung. She'll come to see me soon."

Jungkook was right. Two weeks after their fight, Red showed up. Unfortunately, it's not to beg her ex to come back. She only returned a box full of his stuff, a clear sign that she's officially kicking him out of their shared apartment.

"How can she do this to me? It's my house too!" Said Jungkook nine days after Red's appearance in front of Namjoon's apartment, it finally dawned to him that his ex was no longer a part of his life.

It's really over.

Jungkook realized this while staring dumbly at his ruined sketchpads. Ji-eun accidentally spilled a glass of water on her uncle's drawing.

The mixture of pain, anger, and frustration caused Jungkook to scream. He couldn't possibly be mad at a three-year-old kid; that's why he just directed his negative emotions to the fact that Red practically kicked him out of their home—his home.

He was aware that Red's name was written in the lease contract, but Jungkook paid this year's rental fee. He's broke at the moment. This being the case, Jungkook swallowed his pride to come to live with his brother-in-law. The thing was, it's getting hard for him to stay there. Namjoon had only one room, so Jungkook slept on the couch—wait, this wasn't about right. Jungkook didn't even get to sleep. Ji-eun's cries wouldn't allow him to do so. Aside from this, the little kid had also ruined her uncle's drawings countless times now.

"Seriously, Kook. You need to move out of your brother-in-law's house." Taehyung pouted his lips.

Jungkook couldn't decide if he could take his friend's advice seriously, at least not when Taehyung's tongue was basically down Jimin's throat.

"I can't afford to lease a new place." Jungkook scrunched his nose, eyes still focused on the disgusting public display of affection in front of him. "I only have forty dollars in my bank account."

"Oh, you poor thing." Jimin slightly pushed his boyfriend's chest to dodge his kisses and to be able to look at Jungkook.

Jungkook snorted. He didn't want to be babied, especially not by Park Jimin, who he met just a few months back.

Park Jimin was Taehyung's real soulmate. It was still weird seeing them together. All his life, Jungkook believed that Taehyung, his childhood best friend, was a straight man. Taehyung dated a lot of women before; he also seemed to enjoy being with them.

This was one of the reasons why Jungkook hated the idea of a soulmate. It was a complete bull. It was unfair to let fate decide who you'll end up with. Jungkook witnessed Taehyung's struggle after meeting Jimin. He was happy that he could finally see colors and that it didn't take him long to like Jimin, but Taehyung was so confused.

Like Jungkook, Taehyung also thought he was straight, but then his world suddenly turned upside down. Before he knew it, Taehyung was crying. He was too overwhelmed with what was happening, and Jungkook hated it. The latter didn't care about genders; he supported those who didn't identify themselves as heterosexual. Jungkook hated that people had to limit what they thought their gender was just because of the concept of soulmate. Again, it was not fair.

"But I can help you..." Jimin added as he took a bite of his frozen yogurt. They were currently inside of an ice cream shop. Jungkook had to get out of Namjoon's home since it was getting hard to look at his ruined works. He called his best friend to help him destress. Jungkook just had to let his frustrations out. Luckily, Taehyung and Jimin were more than happy to treat their younger friend some frozen yogurts. Jungkook ordered three of the said dessert.

"No, Jimin." Taehyung said as if he'd read his boyfriend's mind. "Jungkookie isn't going to suck your dick for money."

"Aw." Jimin's lips protruded into a sulky pout, making Jungkook roll his eyes. Sometimes he couldn't believe the couple's relationship. Jungkook knew that Jimin was only joking, but Jungkook thought he couldn't let the love of his life think about someone else's body. He was pretty possessive.

"We can call Yoongi-hyung, though. I think he's in the mood for some dicks—"

"Guys!" Jungkook groaned, cutting them off. His eyes were widening too. "Can we stop talking about dicks for five seconds? I have a serious problem here."

"Oh, right!" Jimin's eyes lit up. He also cleared his throat—an action that made Jungkook sigh in relief; at least he's getting serious now. "You need to find a roommate, Kook. Lucky for you, I have a friend who's looking for a housemate. I think she could cut you off some slack."

The younger boy's scoff was almost instant. "Cut me off some slack?" He narrowed his eyes at Jimin. "I don't want to owe anything to anyone. You know that."

Jimin shrugged his shoulders, taking another bite of his frozen yogurt. "It's not like that. You'll actually be the one doing her a favor. She's in dire need of a roommate, Kook. She wouldn't mind if you couldn't pay rent right now, as long as you're willing to keep the house clean and look after her cat. You can do that, right?"

Of course, Jungkook could. He was an artist; he spent most of his time inside his home, silently drawing whatever came into his mind.

"Huh." Jungkook was still skeptical. "Can't she just hire a maid?"

"Wish it was that easy. She's a mess. Not even her maids can tolerate her shit. Besides, her cat is a total bitch. She scratches anyone that's not her owner."

"I'm not sure..." Jungkook scowled. He wasn't sure if he could live with a stranger. Jungkook was a shy boy; it actually took him a long time to even say 'hello' to Jimin.

"Just think about it, Jungkook..." Jimin smiled warmly at the younger boy. "I swear she's a decent person. Yes, she's messy, but aside from that, she's fine. She doesn't pry on anyone's life; she's quiet, just like you, and oh! She likes banana milk too! I swear, Kook. You'll like her!"

For some reason, Jungkook's heart skipped a beat. He knew Jimin was kind, he's the type of person who always talked about the good qualities of a certain someone, but this was the first time he spoke about someone with such passion.

Jimin continued to talk about you, his lovely best friend. If you could hear him right now, you were sure you'd end up crying. Jimin was indeed the best friend you could ask. He's fiercely loyal.

"It's true, Kook. You'll love her." Taehyung talked about you with the same intensity. He had met you, and he instantly fell in love with you. You were smart and witty.

The couple continued sharing things they loved about you. Jungkook swore he's not easy to convince. The only acceptable reason why he's standing in front of your apartment was that Taehyung and his boyfriend knew the magic of words. They had done an excellent job convincing him.

Jungkook let out an exasperated breath when you still didn't answer the door after his ninth attempt to knock. Truthfully, he was getting pissed off.

Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all.

Just as when he was about to leave, the door suddenly opened with so much force. Jungkook was startled.

"I'm sorry, I was in the shower. I swear I heard you the first time you knocked, but I was panicking, so I slipped down the floor, and I..." You ran your hand through your wet hair, eyes widening when you saw your fingers covered in soap suds.

"Oh, my God!" You were panicking again. This time, you finally looked at Jungkook to see his reaction.

You were rambling about how this whole situation was so embarrassing, but Jungkook wasn't listening anymore. How could he focus on anything when his heart was beating this fast? Jungkook was pissed before he met your eyes, right now; the irritation he felt was rapidly boiling down to panic when he realized what was happening.

Colors.

Jungkook was used to seeing black and white, so imagine his confusion when the colors suddenly became visible in his eyes.

Nothing made sense to him, but one thing's for sure.

Jungkook had found his soulmate.

[saphirered]

Would an individual ask about Caleb ending up with the reader instead of Essek at the end of campaign be alright? I love the wizard bois together, but I'm crushing baaaad on Caleb hehe. Maybe they teach and live happily ever after together, very domestic living after all the adventures they've had :3

Hoping to satisfy your Caleb crush. How's this for some domestic fluff? Enjoy! 😘

The first rays of sunlight are blocked by thick heavy curtains. Awake or asleep, Caleb’s sense of time never fails him. He wakes up bright and early on the minute precise but makes no move to truly start his day. How could he with the sight he wakes to? There you lay, in his arms, eyes closed in peaceful sleep. Never did he think he’d see you so relaxed, or allow yourself to be so relaxed. Sure your lives are not free of stress or the occasional disaster and rarely are your livelihoods in peril these days but compared to months ago that doesn’t even come close to the dangers you’ve faced together; dangers that the majority of the people will never know about. A moment of peace and quiet was just another luxury you and him couldn’t truly afford no matter how much you may have pretended. But now you finally know peace.

Caleb watches your eyes flutter beneath your eyelids and watches just a moment longer carefully trailing his fingers up from their place on your waist to your cheek, caressing it fondly as you sleep. He reminisces when and where your lives intertwined in that tavern in Trostenwald and the events leading you both here together in your shared apartment in Rexxentrum at the Soltryce Academy as respectable teachers of the arts you both love.

When you first met Caleb feared you. He feared you more than anything for you just like him had ties to the Cerberus Assembly but you did not suffer the same fate he had. Luckily your studies were of no interest of his former master and you were instead claimed by another sent out into the world to learn more and find your own way. He was so scared you might lead the Assembly to his nonexistent doorstep and at one point entertained the thought you were a spy sent to bring him back but you proved the opposite. When he revealed his story and you told him you would help him or die trying beside him he brushed you off. Persistent as you are you gave him the wakeup call of a lifetime saying that you’re not doing this just for him but everyone before him, everyone after him.

To Caleb you will always represent all that is good and pure in this world despite the horrors that may have shaped you, changed you for better or worse. He will always consider himself to be the luckiest man in the world to have you at his side as his confidant, moral compass, study-mate, intellectual equal, bailout, friend, partner, but most of all; his lover for he could not want for anyone else in the world. No one could ever replace you and no one can compare to you. You may tell him you’re not the most intelligent, quick-witted, charming or interesting individual in the world but to him you are and he will argue with you on that until you grow tired of him and are forced to accept. He certainly does not mind the fluster of your cheeks and kiss you offer to shut him up.

And now you lie asleep cuddled up against him, limbs intertwined, the sunset orange covers slipping from your shoulder. Caleb hears the birds begin their song signalling he must leave the warm comforts of your embrace so carefully he begins to untangle his legs from yours, his arm from underneath your head replacing it by quickly pulling the pillow above down. He begins to untangle your grasp on his shirt slowly removing your fingers one by one. A deep intake of breath on your end and adjustment of your legs below the covers has him worried he’s woken you up.

Caleb knows fully well you have your own ways of waking up on time and you would have asked him the night before if he ought to wake you, so since you’re not already awake he’ll give you every extra minute of sleep you can get. You deserve it so he’ll curse himself if he’s the one to ruin it. Once you have adjusted and he’s sure you’re still sleeping he continues and removes himself from the warm comforts you’re huddled up among longing for nothing more than to share them a minute longer and gathers his things. In putting his lesson plans, notes and a few books to pass the time for the day he bends down to allow the orange tabby to jump into his arms and sets the cat onto the table taking a moment to stroke its fur and give some chin scratches leaving the little beastie purring.

Ridding himself of his night clothes Caleb puts on his shirt, and trousers tucking the shirt into the waistband and moves on to his footwear as per his usual routine. He takes the vest set out for him and is about to button it up when he feels eyes on him. His first thoughts go to the cat but that one’s not the guilty audience so instead his eyes fall to you, propped up against the headboard watching him.

“Well don’t stop on my accord. Though, I prefer the clothes back on the chair.” Your voice is still riddled with sleep but you’re awake enough for your comments so Caleb feels justified to give you a disapproving scowl though he cannot prevent the smile from creeping up his lips.

“Good morning to you too.” Caleb smiles as you cover a yawn with the back of your hand. You pull yourself out of the bed and stumble over to Caleb until you’re toe to toe placing a hand on his cheek guiding him into a kiss. Your lips move against his and his arms wrap around you to return and welcome your efforts openly. Though, enough’s enough and Caleb breaks the kiss giving you one final peck in an attempt to kiss away the onset disappointment and pout on your end.

“No matter how much I’d like to continue, Astrid will have both of our heads we show up late.” Caleb runs his fingers through your hair kissing your cheek as you cross your arms. Is there nothing you can do to convince him to stay? He might be right about Astrid…

“Well, I do not have any classes until second period but if you’re so adamant to stay with me I can send the archmage a message to tell her you’re regretful to be missing your first class of the day and to find a substitute.” You’re joking. Not really. A joke hiding the actual offer. Caleb considers it for a brief moment purely to entertain the thought but he knows very well he shouldn’t.

“You know we can’t but how about I make it up to you with dinner and dancing and a night in? Just the two of us.” Caleb cups your cheeks stroking your cheekbones with his thumbs, a gesture he knows very well makes you melt.

“That sounds like an agreeable offer, professor Widogast.” Your acceptance brings another bright smile to his face and he pulls you into another chaste kiss to seal the deal. This time you’re the one to pull away.

“Best get you ready for the day then, lest you be late.” Your nimble fingers stroke down the front of his chest finding the buttons of his vest and one by one buttoning them up. Once you’re done you take a few steps back looking him over.

“Do I pass your inspection, professor?” Caleb laughs half the mind to do a little spin for you but he refrains instead lifting the cat from the table into his arms.

“With flying colours. I think his highness is inclined to agree.” You watch as the cat meows making himself comfortable in your wizard’s arms without any intent to go anywhere but alas, all good things come to an end be it for the cat or you. With some protests Caleb puts the cat back on the ground allowing the creature to skitter off to gods know where.

You pull open the curtains allowing the light of dawn to fill the room. Caleb already regrets the decision of not taking you up on your offer to call in late and miss his first class as you look absolutely radiant but he feels certain both of you will be missing second and possibly even third period if he does, so he must refrain. Tonight will make up for it. He’s already got the perfect place in mind for dinner.

You catch Caleb staring, his gaze following you as you pull at the heavy fabric until the outside world is revealed to you. You put a little sway in your step before you gather your own clothes for the day and change in your usual attire, slowly. Deliberately slow. If he’s already staring you better not waste your opportunity and make a show of it.

“No use in staying in bed all alone. His Highness makes for good company but he’s a dull conversationalist. Perhaps I’ll drop by Beau at the Archives?” You deliberate your events for the morning tapping your chin.

“If you do, tell the Expositor I have some more files for her to study.” Caleb, finally pulled out of his trance steps back over to you, or rather besides you to grab his bag and sling it over his shoulder. You know he’s about to be off so you wrap your arm around his waist as you guide him to the door. Not much you can change about the need for students to be taught the wonders of transmutation magic. While you may find times you’d want to spend more time together, in the end neither of you would ever want to give up teaching. There’s plenty of other times you can spend together happily. Or you can justify combining your classes for one reason or another as you love nothing more than to share your passions.

“I’ll see you in a few hours at the Academy?” Caleb watches as you fall silent for a moment, your focus drawn away.

“Yes, I’ll make sure he knows. We’ll be there. Thank you.” You speak but Caleb knows fully well it’s not directed at him. This has become a habit he’s very much gotten used to so he simply awaits for you to share the message.

“Astrid wants us for lunch. She threatened to limit your access to the library if you’re late.” Of course she does, Caleb thinks to himself. So the archmage may or may not have heard about his almost-arrest of the day before. He’d already gotten an earful from you.

“Of course she does. There go our lunch plans for our free period.”

“You’re the one to get arrested for- and I quote ‘encourage insurgence among young impressionable souls’.” You grin. Okay, you may have been a little proud of Caleb actively trying to do better but you could do without the accusations of treason. You’d rather not have Caleb spend the night in jail because word got out or he pissed off the wrong person. You’d expect this from Beauregard but had hoped Caleb would be more careful about it and so apparently thought Astrid. He’s in for a scolding according to her tone.

“Merely teaching young impressionable souls how to be better. Is that a crime?” You grab Caleb’s coat and help him into it as he offers you a ‘thank you’.

“According to the king, yes it is.” The amusement in your voice is enough to earn you a playful glare. You open the door for Caleb and he steps halfway out offering you one final kiss.

“Love you.” Caleb pecks your lips. You’ve drawn out the length of the kiss long enough and he’s already on the verge of running late now so no matter how much he may want to stay, he has to go.

“Love you too, Caleb. See you soon and for the love of the arcane arts; stay out of trouble.” You know he won’t make that promise as he can’t keep it but you still tell him to every time. You kiss his cheek stepping back and watching the wizard leave as you close the door. Nothing but a usual morning; sneaking out of bed, cats, kisses, a message from your friend the archmage, talks of treason and the love of two fate-entwined mages trying to make the world a better place.