#from three cheers cover of course..... the covered in blood of it all fits the vampire thing

[pendr4gonz]

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY RE:VALE YURI IS REAL ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

(rb>like ^_^)

[azsazz]

What You Made Me (Part 2)

Cassian x Reader

Summary: The highly requested part 2 of you being an Archeron sister and loving a good brawl. You find yourself in the Hewn City and naturally, you get in another fight, exactly what the Inner Circle doesn’t want you doing.

Warnings: Trauma, abuse, fighting.

Word Count: 2,026

(Part One)

_________________________________________

How you found yourself in the Hewn City, you did not know.

But the longer you were in Rhysand’s sub-court, the more you thought you fit in.

The Court of Nightmares indeed, groveling in front of your brother-in-law while Nesta seduced the future High Lord of Autumn. You, however, had been left unsupervised and free to wander around the court, a small faelight that you’d conjured in the palm of your hand as you found your way down the winding halls, their walls covered in raunchy paintings and lude sculptures, the graphic images glaring down at you.

You were dressed in a silky crimson dress, next to no material covering your body, something you despised.

But you wanted them to see the brand on the back of your shoulder, what had been done to you because you were sent away by your own family. The deepest betrayal, burning hot in your stomach, a constant since you’d been back.

Nesta had glared at all three Illyrians on your behalf, and you can say that that’s more than she had ever done for you in your entire life. She had her own problems to worry about. Elain has gasped, covering her mouth with both hands, eyes welling with tears when she has caught a glimpse of the newly-healed raised skin. But she hadn’t said a word, none of them had. They didn’t need to, you wanted them to feel guilt bubbling in their stomachs for what they had done to you.

Feyre tried to catch your arm as you passed but you dodged it, her being the last one of your sisters you wanted to talk to.

You could say you were still angry.

Your newly pointed ears perked up, picking up on the low cheers and laughter, the metallic scent of blood floating through the air. You breathe in deeply, dearly missing the comforting tang from when you’d been in brawls, the familiar split of the skin across your knuckles, the soreness of the bruises underneath your skin. 

It all made you feel alive.

Rounding the corner to the dimly lit room, floor clacking beneath your heels, drowned out by the jeering males crowded in a circle, waving their coin and fists in the air. They’re all huge, and you push your way between them, ignoring the growls cut off when they realize a female is here, and a pretty one at that.

In the center of the ring are two males, beaten and bloody and still going at each other, fists flying and grunts of pain hitting your ears, making your knuckles itch to jump in.

It’s over when one of the males takes a hit to the skull and doesn’t get back up. You swallow harshly, wide eyed, but then he’s getting dragged away, the crowd swallowing him up and the bookmaker is passing out money to the winning betters and calling out for the next two fighters.

A shove to your back has you falling into the circle, palms splayed before you, catching on the stone floor, slick with blood. You glare over your shoulder at the culprit, who smirks and winks at you while the other males catcall. 

The High Lady’s sister in a boxing match in the Hewn City. What could go wrong?

You get your footing, standing back up in those high heels that hurt your feet, beckoning the male into the circle with a sultry smile.

If it was a fight he was wanting, a fight he would get.

Someone tosses you a pair of wraps and you ignore the calls offering to help you as you fumble with them, biting back a smirk as you do so. Of course you know how to wrap your hands for a fight, but it wasn’t the cloth that you needed, you’d fight bare-knuckled if you could, you were just following these males’ rules.

He had no idea who he was up against.

You tie back the length of your dress so you don’t go tripping over it while you’re beating this males face in. You’re positive no one’s bet for you to win, but none of that matters to you, you’re not here for the money or the pride, you’re here to feel the high you’ve been craving since you left the war camps.

You kick off the expensive heels you don’t know came from who or where, tucking the end of the wrap in and flexing your fingers, getting a feel for the fabric around your knuckles. It’s perfect, not too tight and not too loose.

Your opponent is crowded around by his friends, shooting you looks and sizing you up as you take a few poorly executed punches to the air, warming up your muscles. You hear them laugh and compliment him, tell him how easy he’s going to have this, and you bite back your smile at these stupid males.

Focused solely on the male across from you, circling each other, waiting for him to make the first move, you didn’t know Cassian had followed you. He’d had an eye on you all night; because of Rhysands order and the fact that you looked exquisite in your Night Court garb. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anyone so beautiful, but the constant turned down nature of your mouth and sharp eyes had him holding his words back.

Cassian had been trying to talk to you since that night on the roof but there wasn’t anything that he could say that would make you forgive him. He had helped them send you away to the war camps instead of finding something that could actually help you. And that didn’t sit well with you.

He tried to stick close to the shadows like his brother, but with your attention on the fight as your fist connected with the males face for the first time, he didn’t have to try so hard.

The metallic tang of his blood hits the air and you take a deep inhale, letting your grin slash across your face while the crowd of males choke. Yes, you certainly missed this.

Maybe it was gross for a female of your stature to love fighting so much, but you didn’t care. You wanted them to feel the way you feel, and you just happened to be able to show it better with a few well aimed strikes.

Cassian had to admit, you were pretty good. If it were from the bar brawls or your training in the Illyrian Steppes, he respected it, with your arms raised correctly, following through on every punch, though your opponent was equally as good. The bloodlust in his eyes and the blood dribbling down his chin were enough to have even the crimson siphoned Illyrian smirking.

The male in the ring across from your tongues the slit in his lip and spits out the blood at your feet, his teeth smeared with red when he grins. You match his energy though he hasn’t landed a hit yet by twirling a stand of hair between your fingers, giving him a wide-eyed, innocent look.

And that has him lunging for you again, to which you sidestep his swinging fist, spinning on your heel and sliding your foot out to catch him off balance. He topples to the ground and you’re quick to sit on his chest, dress riding high around your hips, pounding your fists into his face.

It’s like you lose sense of where you are. You let the feeling take over you, euphoric adrenaline rushing through your veins. Your vision blurs at the edges and the voices of the surrounding males turn to a faint buzz as you see red, each strike hitting its mark perfectly.

Time speeds up again as you’re lifted off of the sorry male beneath you, who’s passed out, face mottled with blood. 

You bare your teeth, twisting in the arms of the male who is holding you back, a warcry leaves your throat. Your fingers claw against the male, fighting for a way to slip out of his grasp. The crowd of Hewn City fighters stare after you in disbelief.

“Sh, (Y/N), it’s just me,” Cassian's familiar voice fills your ear and you sag against him, knowing that this is one fight you can’t get out of. He’s probably taking you to Rhysand right now, ready to drop you at his High Lord’s feet to be punished.

But he doesn’t. When he rounds the corner away from those males he’s setting you down with his large hands on your shoulders as you take heaving breaths, trying to calm your racing heart.

It helps, in a way, his steadiness on your shoulders, rooting you back to where you are, in the Court of Nightmares where anyone could have just walked in and seen you brawling with a bunch of mongrels. You should be thankful it’s Cassian who showed up.

But you shrug his hands away, slipping from between him and the wall, unwrapping the cloth from your hands while he takes a long stride to catch up to you.

“Thanks for making me a hundred marks richer,” he smirks, breaking the silence. He wouldn’t ever admit it, but seeing you beat that male’s face in made his cock twitch in his pants, half hard by the time he realized he needed to stop the fight or you’d kill him.

He’s trying to bait you into bantering with him because you’d been avoiding him like the plague. You don’t give him the satisfaction of a response and he changes tactics quickly like the smart warlord he is.

“If you’re going to pretend that nothing happened you should at least make it look like it,” he stops you, wrapping an arm around your bicep. You let him pull you back a few steps, leaning back up against the wall as your hands go automatically for your hair, trying to tame the escaped strands.

“That’s not what I meant,” his voice is now soft, and it makes your heart ache. You swallow hard as he slowly lowers himself to his knees, hazel eyes locked on yours the entire way. Your heart stammers in your chest at the sight, and he finally leans forward, untucking your tied dress from behind you with gentle fingers, his breath dancing across your bare legs.

Cassian even goes so far as to try and smooth out the creases left in your dress. “Well, you might have to think quickly on your feet about how you got these wrinkles, but it’s better than it was.” He looks up at you again and you can’t seem to look away as he rises again back to his full height, towering over you.

His hand comes to rest beneath your chin and you flinch at the contact but don’t pull away as his thumb swipes across your lower lip. The drag of his skin on yours is electrifying.

“You had a little…blood,” he trails off. And he looks like he might say more but someone’s coming down the hall and he takes a large step away, immediately falling back into his role as a part of Rhysand’s Inner Circle.

“Why don’t you fight someone who can handle you?” he asks, as he crosses his arms over his chest, biceps bulging. The mirth in his eyes as he smirks down at you irritates you, has you glaring up at him as you lean off of the wall.

You scoff, unwrapping the bloody cloth wound around your knuckles, “I thought that’s why you sent me away, because you couldn’t handle me.” You push past him, shoving your used straps into his chest on your way.

“Why don’t we put it to the test?” he calls after you and you can hear the dirty suggestion in his tone.

You turn on your heel, a quick and fluid motion, “Because I know you can’t handle me,” you give him a sultry smirk in return, continuing your spin front facing as you stalk away, your hips swaying just a little bit more.

You feel his eyes glued to you until you turn down the next corridor.

[0revengefulvampire0]

The legendary band, MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE.

In the beginning

Formed on September 12th 2002 was a band millions of people will never forget. Their band members in the beginning consisted of, Frontman Gerard Way, Lead Guitarist Ray Toro, Bassist Mikey Way, and Drummer Matt Pelisser. Their name was My Chemical Romance, Gerard stated that they were a rock band but they mostly got grouped with the emo and pop punk genre. Their first record was very harsh- second record was also harsh- third album was more of a mix of both harsh and sorrow- third record was more hyper, just different than the rest.

Bullets Era

The first album they came out with was called “I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love”; The album came out on July 23rd 2002. Before It was released Frank Iero joined as the rhythm guitarist and was featured on two tracks, "Honey, This Mirror Isn't Big Enough for the Two of Us" and "Early Sunsets Over Monroeville". Iero says he sold shirts at small venues they played at and he loved how they sounded. The band needed a rhythm guitarist and Iero was the perfect fit. The first song on the Bullets album “Skylines and Turnstiles," which lead singer Gerard Way wrote based on his experience during September 11, 2001.

This story of the album is two lovers running from an enemy (their sins) and getting murdered in the end, the track “Demolition Lovers” explains it all, being the very last song on the record explaining that they both die together. The next album explains the rest of the Demolition Man's journey. The story tells many things about the concept on most of the songs.

Revenge era

The second album they made was called “Three Cheers For Sweet Revenge”; It came out on June 8, 2004. That album Went Platinum and really boosted their fame. The most popular track “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” with a music video that was set in a high school. The Frontman Gerard way really started experimenting with the band's look; wearing red eyeshadow, pasty white skin, black hair going down to his neck, and a black velvet suit with a dark red tie. The other band mates wore similar clothes and makeup.

The continued story of the album, the last track on the bullets album fades into the revenge album, Gerard titled the cover art “Demolition Lovers II”; it has two people on it covered in blood. The concept of the revenge album is the Demolition Man going to hell without his demolition love and the devil making a deal with him that if he goes up to earth and gathers the souls of 1000 evil men he will get his lover back. Again like the last album, revenge tells so many things about the whole story.

The Black Parade era

Now this album went crazy famous! It was their third record, “The Black parade”. It came out on October 20th 2006. It’s most famous tracks “Welcome To The Black Parade” and “Teenagers”. This album is about the reflections of a dying cancer patient. And it comes with a whole new look for the band. It goes from, the band members wearing marching band outfits and they’re all black and white, to military costumes for the music video “The Ghost Of You” and many other looks, but primarily the marching band outfits.

In this album it’s all about the dead- with the first track called “The End” that fades into “Dead!” On the “Welcome To The Black Parade” song’s music video it starts off with a man in a hospital bed in a small room, he dies and the curtain walls fall down and reveal this huge dystopian looking world. The band is on this huge parade float, all of the members are playing instruments and singing on it. The huge world has wrecked parts and it’s all black and white with a distant city in the background, Of course there’s a marching band of the dead and they have a bunch of cool costumes on. The song is all about sorrow and death, lots of sad melancholy sounding songs on there.

The Black Parade tour was completely legendary. It Started Feb 22nd 2007 and ended on May 9th 2008. (You can watch the very last tour they did on YouTube called “The Black Parade Is Dead!” )

Danger Days era

Their fourth and final album “Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys” it came out on November 22, 2010. This whole album is so different from the rest. Less “emo” and more colorful and “hyper” than all the others. It mostly has desert scenery in most of the music videos including, “Na Na Na (Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na)” and “sing”. The whole album is super neat, going from fun to sad just like the rest of the albums songs. The band members' characters (killjoys) in the album are "Party Poison" (Gerard Way), "Jet-Star" (Ray Toro), "Fun Ghoul" (Frank Iero), and "Kobra Kid" (Mikey Way). The outlaws (killjoys) are outlaws in a desert outside of “battery city” where there are evil men.

Fun fact time: The last track on the record called “Vampire Money” (Gerard way claims) is about how the Twilight movie franchise wanted my chemical romance to do a song for them, and Gerard said they were just chasing money and he wouldn’t do it.

Gerard Way made comic books about “the True lives of the fabulous killjoys” the first issue came out on June 12th 2013.

Conventional weapons singles

a compilation album, released as a series of singles between October 2012 and February 2013. They were all unreleased songs that were made before “Danger Days”. There are a total of ten songs on each of the 5 compilations.

The tragic date.

On March 22nd 2013 my chemical romance made an announcement that the band was over, they had broken up. The post reads:

“Being in this band for the past 12 years has been a true blessing. We’ve gotten to go places we never knew we would. We’ve been able to see and experience things we never imagined possible. We’ve shared the stage with people we admire, people we look up to, and best of all, our friends. And now, like all great things, it has come time for it to end. Thanks for all of your support, and for being part of the adventure.

My Chemical Romance”

So many fans were devastated and shocked. They had been talking about a fifth album and everyone was so excited for it. The band members had lives outside of music, getting married, having kids, and just working on solo music.

My chemical romance never dies!!

From Dec 20, 2019 – Mar 26, 2023 the band made a comeback tour going all across the world.

The foundations of decay

On May 12th 2022, my chemical romance released a surprise single called “The Foundations Of decay” and changed MILLIONS of lives. It was their first song after the conventional weapons compilation album, which was almost a decade after they split.

There’s much conspiracy in the fan base about MCR5 and how they are all hinting that there might be a possibility that another album could come out!!

Go check out all of the band members solo work, About them, and make sure to stay safe out there on the internet, there’s lots of weird things!

Happy listening!

Skye Bourgeois-Gillis <3

EXTRAS:

[set-phasers-to-whump]

Day 3: Creation Prompt - Stitches & Bandages

whumpee: illya kuryakin

fandom: the man from uncle

hi everyone! here's my first fic for the month :) i imagine this as ot3 (or pre ot3) and it takes place a year or two after the movie. also i cannot decide whether i like this or hate it, i was traveling for most of the day so it's like, a little messy lol.

Illya is sitting on the edge of an exam table in a Viennese hospital, his ridiculously long legs nevertheless not touching the floor. He looks calm, if a bit annoyed, but beneath this Napoleon can see how tense he is. 

He doesn’t blame Illya. Hell, he’s tense, too. And from the way Gaby’s tapping her foot, that makes three of them. 

They don’t do hospitals. They do stitches in hotel bathrooms and, if it’s serious enough, get checked over by UNCLE doctors when their mission is complete. 

But not this time. Because this time, there had been several witnesses to the incident, including a cab driver who had absolutely insisted upon giving the three of them a ride to the nearest hospital, free of charge. 

It had fit their cover, Napoleon has to admit. Three Americans on vacation in the Austrian capital are not exactly the type of people to refuse medical help from a kind stranger. 

It had all been rather stupid, he reflects, as the three of them wait for a nurse to arrive. They’d been browsing in a high-end jewelry store, establishing their cover as a trio of wealthy American cousins out to see the sights of Europe. Napoleon and Illya had played the parts of dutiful (if bored) older relatives to Gaby, who’d dragged them through the store, pointing out every single item that caught her eye (or, rather, the eye of the young, extravagant wedding planner she was meant to be).

It’d been crowded, stuffy. Napoleon had been sweating through his light shirt, silently hoping for time to speed up. He and Illya had been bent over a counter at Gaby’s insistence, peering with feigned feigned interest at a frankly ridiculous-looking necklace when, from Napoleon’s perspective, Illya had suddenly decided to smash through the glass jewelry case with his head. 

Of course, this had turned out to not be the case. Illya, it seemed, had merely been a distraction - while everyone else in the store had been caught off guard, two men who had been browsing through the wedding rings had begun smashing the other jewelry cases, and suddenly the store had found itself in the middle of a robbery. 

It was clearly an amateur job, and it had ended very quickly - evidently, the robbers hadn’t planned on the glass cases being alarmed. They’d run off quite quickly after their initial smashings, strings of pearls and diamonds jumbled together in their hands, and that had been that. 

Illya had been fine, really. His forehead had collided with a metal edge and the cut had bled profusely - in fact, is still bleeding beneath the towel he’s pressing to it - and various shards of glass had cut up his face and hands, but nothing major. No concussion, nothing broken. Just blood. 

Blood had been more than enough to worry everyone else in the store, which was when the cab driver - incredibly kind fellow, really - had insisted upon offering his services. And so the three of them had climbed reluctantly into a car far too small for four grown adults, and they’d been taken to the hospital, free of charge. 

And it wasn’t like they could’ve left then, either. The cab driver had stayed parked in front of the entrance until they’d gone inside, giving them a cheerful wave farewell before going off to find another fare.

And now they’re here. The nurse arrives at last and immediately gets down to business, examining Illya’s face and then asking him whether he has ever had stitches before. 

Illya nods in the affirmative, and the nurse asks whether he’d been awake. 

Napoleon answers for him: “He was unconscious. Had his appendix out when we were in college.” This is not technically true, but Illya does have a scar in roughly the right location. It’s from a bullet, not a surgeon’s knife, but it’s not like the nurse is going to check. 

“Excuse me, but I was asking your…”

“Cousin,” Napoleon fills in. “And you won’t get much out of him. He’s mute.”

“Oh,” the nurse replies, looking between the two of them. “But he can hear?”

Napoleon nods. Illya had been given this aspect of his cover the second Waverly had heard his attempt at an American accent. Napoleon had teased him relentlessly for a day or two - turns out even the KGB’s best has an Achilles’ heel. 

It’s actually come in handy, though. The three of them have learned, quite quickly, that Illya’s total silence makes people more likely to speak in his presence about things they perhaps shouldn’t speak about. He’s gathered some valuable intel this way, but at the moment is experiencing no particular advantage. 

“I have to warn you, this will be much different. You will be numb, but awake.” 

Illya nods against the cloth still pressed to his forehead. Napoleon imagines he’d like to say something like, just do it and stop talking, but he’s trapped as the nurse rattles on. 

Eventually, though, he does get on with it. Napoleon and Gaby are shooed away from the table and have to watch from a corner as the nurse wipes away the bright red blood and then pushes a needle of anesthetic into Illya’s forehead. Gaby stiffens slightly. Napoleon can guess how she feels. There is something very different about this. About watching someone else, someone unknown, have this kind of access to their partner. 

“Can you feel this?” the nurse asks, poking at Illya’s forehead. When Illya shakes his head no, the nurse moves in with a needle and thread. 

At least, Napoleon thinks, these medical supplies are completely sterile. They’re not from an ancient first-aid kit found in the basement of a safehouse, not from the emergency sewing kit they’d stolen from a woman’s purse that once. Illya is in good hands, Napoleon tells himself. It’s fine. 

Except it’s not fine. It’s not them. He sees the tension in Illya’s shoulders and knows that if it was him doing the stitching, Illya would be more relaxed. He watches Illya stiffen as the nurse ties off the thread and knows that Gaby would’ve been there to squeeze his hand and distract him from that most unpleasant sensation. 

The nurse finishes with the needle and thread, applies an antibiotic cream, pastes a bandage over the fresh stitches. And then he grabs a cotton ball and rubbing alcohol and starts cleaning and bandaging the little cuts on Illya’s face and hands, the ones that have already stopped bleeding, and Napoleon actually feels something in his chest tighten. 

He should be doing this. It should be him tilting Illya’s face gently up towards himself, one of the only times that their relative heights are reversed. It should be him deftly but gently wiping away the blood, giving Illya the care that they both know he doesn’t need. And it should be Gaby’s fingers on Illya’s hands, scraping blood from under his nails and holding his hands so, so lightly because they both know he won’t pull away. 

But it's not.

The nurse finishes with Illya. “Come back in a week, and I will remove these. In the meantime, keep everything clean, and you should be fine.”

And just like that, they’re standing outside of the hospital and simultaneously realizing that there is no obvious method of getting back to their hotel. And then they’re crammed into another cab that’s too small for four fully-grown adults. And then they’re back in their hotel and they’ve all got separate rooms but Gaby and Napoleon hadn’t even hesitated before inviting themselves directly into Illya’s room. 

Illya…doesn’t mind. Napoleon had kind of expected him to mind. He’d expected Illya to say I am fine, I am hurt worse than this all of the time. 

But he’s quiet, like he’s still playing his role even though it’s just the three of them now. He’s pliant. He lets them check him over, their fingers ghosting over bandages he’d usually have ripped off by now. 

When they’ve satisfied themselves, somewhat reluctantly, with the nurse’s job, both Napoleon and Gaby join Illya’s silence. They’re sitting together on the couch, Napoleon and Gaby bracketing Illya between them, and by silent communication they both move closer, until they’re all three tangled together, a mess of limbs that shouldn’t be as comfortable as it is. 

“Thank you,” Illya says softly, after a very long time. 

Napoleon doesn’t feel that they deserve his thanks. Not for this. Not for today. Not when all that they did was stand there. 

“Why?” he whispers back, half afraid of the answer. 

Illya shrugs, a movement Napoleon feels rather than sees. “You are here,” he says, like that’s all that matters in the world. 

And maybe it is. 

thanks for reading!! hope you liked it, love u all <3

[bridgertonbabe]

Bridgerton Drabble - Harry Potter AU Edition #3

“Alright, let’s divide and conquer.” Violet addressed the gathered group before her as everyone finished off their ice creams. “Daphne I’ll take you to Ollivanders, Flourish and Blotts, and then Madam Malkin’s to get your robes fitted-”

“And the Owl Emporium, mum! You promised I could get an owl just like they all did!” Daphne reminded her, gesturing to her three older brothers. 

“Of course, of course.” Violet stroked her hair assuringly. “Now I think it’s best if Eloise, Francesca, and Hyacinth all stay with me,”

“Oh but mum!” Eloise whined. “I don’t want to trail Daphne round all day long!”

“Hey!” Daphne cried out.

“Eloise you’re coming with us whether you like it or not, seeing as you’ll be in your sister’s shoes in two years time.” Violet told her.

“Unless you turn out to be a squib.” 

“MUM!” Eloise exclaimed.

“Colin, don’t be mean to your sister.” Edmund scolded his son. “You’re not a squib, honey.” he then said to his second eldest daughter and rubbed her arm consolingly. 

“Moving on,” Violet sighed, “Edmund if you could take Sophie and Ben to Madam Malkin’s first to have their new robes fitted, then I think you both needed new quills?” she checked and Sophie and Benedict nodded. 

“And then to Amanuensis?” Edmund guessed.

“Can we go Scribbulus instead?” Benedict asked. “Their stationary stuff’s better.”

“Whatever you want, son.” Edmund patted him on the back. 

“Right, then Anthony if you could take Colin to Potage’s and get him a new cauldron, seeing as he managed to melt his last year.” Violet raised an eyebrow.

“It was an accident, I swear!” Colin insisted. “Tell her, Soph!”

Sophie remained tight-lipped and kept her head down, not wanting to lie to Violet Bridgerton’s face. 

“If you could also go to Slug and Jiggers and fetch everyone’s potions supplies for the next year - here’s the list, dear.” Violet handed Anthony over the potion shopping list as well as a bag of galleons to cover the cost. “And then after you can take Colin and Gregory to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.”

“Yippee!” Gregory cheered and Anthony allowed his kid brother to clamber onto his back as he stood up. 

“And then let’s all meet by Gringotts when we’re done, okay? Everyone ready to go?” 

There was an affirmative response before the Bridgertons broke up into their respective groups and went off in different directions, with Benedict going with his father and Sophie to Madam Malkin’s first. 

“This one’s shot up yet again,” Edmund cheerfully informed the shop assistant and clapped Benedict on the back, “I swear he has a growth spurt every time we pick him up from Kings Cross. And then Sophie here needs a new set after she almost went up in flames last year.” 

The incident in question had occurred in the same Potions lesson where Colin managed to melt his cauldron. Fortunately Phillip had doused Sophie with a water spell before the flames could reach her skin, but the same couldn’t be said for her school robes which got the brunt of the sudden wild fire that had somehow been started at their desk. When Benedict had seen Sophie later on that day with her burnt robes still smoldering he nearly burst a blood vessel and admonished his brother, who alongside Michael had already been told off by Professor Slughorn, Professor Sprout, Professor Danbury, Anthony, and Kate Sharma for their reckless tomfoolery and endangerment of their classmates.

Once they had been fitted for their new robes they stopped by Scribbulus Writing Instruments and picked up their new quills that Benedict had recommended to Sophie.

“Right, and then I think someone wanted to spend their birthday money on the latest Firebolt?” Edmund turned to his son after they left the stationary shop. 

Benedict had been saving his money up all year in order to be able to purchase the newly released broomstick and had talked about nothing else in his excitement ahead of the trip to Diagon Alley. He gave his father an eager grin but just before they could take a step in the direction of the Quidditch Supplies shop, a little figure ran into their midsts and crashed into Edmund’s legs.

“Daddy!” Hyacinth cried out, hugging him tightly. 

“Sweetheart!” Edmund gasped and picked his youngest up. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanna go to Sugarplum’s!” she cheered and pointed in the direction of the pink painted sweet shop not too far from them.

“But where’s mummy, sweetheart? Is she with you?” 

“No?” Hyacinth replied, cocking her head in puzzlement, wondering what her mum’s whereabouts had anything to do with her wanting to go to Sugarplum’s.

“Oh dear.” Edmund sighed, realising his wife would no doubt be panicking once she noticed her three year old had run off. “Well we’d better go find her to let her know you’re alright.” He then turned to Benedict and Sophie and passed over a small bag of money. “I was meant to pick up some food for the owls if you don’t mind swinging by there first? I’ll come find you there, alright?” 

“Sure thing, dad.” Benedict smiled, unfazed by the slight change in plan seeing as reuniting Hyacinth with their mother was the priority. 

With Edmund and Hyacinth gone, Benedict and Sophie traipsed to Eeylops Owl Emporium, grabbing a sack of owl food as well as several bags of treats that Benedict paid for. As he packed away his purchases in the muggle shopping trolley bag his parents found very useful to cart around the wizarding shopping district, Benedict spotted Sophie admiring some of the owls scattered around the store. 

He pulled up beside her and watched as she interacted with a particularly squat and small owl, who hooted and hopped along it’s branch and nuzzled against the finger she held out to it. When Sophie moved her finger to the left to get the little owl to bounce back along the branch, the little bird took a wobble and actually fell from it’s perch. Sophie gasped but Benedict darted a hand out to save the little owl from falling flat on it’s face.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry!” Sophie apologised to the little owl and stroked it’s head as Benedict held it. “I didn’t mean to disorient you!”

Benedict found it sweet how concerned she was with the bumbling little owl as she took it from him and cradled it in her own hands. 

“Doesn’t take a lot.” grunted a nearby shop assistant. “That one’s absolutely useless.” 

“Surely not. It’s still young.” Sophie cooed as she gazed down into the owl’s big bright eyes. 

“Looks young but that’s a fully grown one for it’s kind.” the shop assistant informed her. “Pretty sure it’s the runt of it’s brood. She can’t fly for too long and she can barely hold a post-it note.”

“Doesn’t mean she’s useless.” Sophie defended the little creature. 

“Oh yeah? Then what else would you have her do?” the apathetic shop assistant snorted. 

“Well maybe she needs a little more training than other owls.” Sophie suggested. “I don’t see any reason to just give up on her and write her off altogether.” 

“Trust me, I’ve worked here seven years now, and I know a dud when I see a dud.” the shop assistant said. “The most useful thing she could do is feed herself to one of the cats next door.” 

“That’s a bit harsh.” Benedict replied as Sophie’s face fell in horror. 

“Harsh but true. We’ll probably have to cull her anyway, seeing as she’s taking up room and no one’s remotely interested in her.” the shop assistant shrugged before turning away to help another customer. 

“That’s not fair. That’s so not fair.” Sophie murmured as she stroked the owl’s head, with the little bird giving a hoot of appreciation. 

“Why don’t you take her?” Benedict quietly suggested. 

“What?” Sophie’s eyes widened, almost resembling the owl in her hands who also peered up at Benedict curiously, almost as if she understood what he had said. 

“Well you could do with an owl.” he pointed out.

“Not really.” she shook her head solemnly. “It’s not like I have anyone to write to.” 

“Of course you do!” he argued with an encouraging tone. “Mum and dad would love to write and hear back from you! Eloise can’t get enough of writing letters to anyone who will respond to her, and Frannie would love to write to you too! And then after he leaves at the end of this year Anthony will be another person you can correspond with. And Gregory and Hyacinth could send you drawings and cards all the time!”

“I guess.” Sophie gave a small shrug in an equally small voice. “But he said she can barely fly or carry anything.” she noted and inclined her head towards the surly shop assistant. 

“Well of course he would say that. His attitude stinks as much as his body odour does.” Benedict muttered, prompting a snort out of Sophie who immediately clapped a hand over her mouth in embarrassment. “What she needs is someone who has the patience to train her, like you said, and I can’t think of anyone better to take the time to build her up than you, Soph.” he enthused. “You’re not the type to give up on anyone! I mean, hell, you’ve been Colin’s friend for two whole years when most other people would have thrown in the towel after a single week!”

“Benedict.” she laughed in a poor attempt to scold him for mocking his brother. 

“I am serious though. You should take her.” 

“I don’t have much money left.” Sophie bit her lip. “I wouldn’t be able to afford her.”

“Considering they’ve already got her on the chopping block, I’m sure they’d be happy to sell her off for cheap.” Benedict shrugged. “Watch. Hey!” he then called out to the shop assistant who had spoken to them earlier. “How much for the little one?” he enquired and motioned to the owl still cradled in Sophie’s hands. 

“That thing?” the shop assistant spluttered. “You want to buy that thing?” 

“Yes.” Sophie firmly replied, no longer able to tolerate his dismissive attitude towards the stout little owl she held. 

“Honestly? You can have it for free,” he began to reply. 

“I beg your pardon?” his manager suddenly appeared with a furrowed brow aimed at his employee. “Were you seriously about to let them take it for free?” 

“Well we don’t want it.” the assistant shrugged carelessly. 

“And you’re just going to let us lose a profit just because they’re stupid enough to buy a creature that useless?” 

“Uh, we can hear you, you know!” Benedict called out in annoyance. 

“You can have her for ten galleons.” the manager said.

“What?!” Benedict screwed his face up (as did the shop assistant). “That’s what you charge for owls double her size!” he argued, considering his eagle owl, Clement, had been nine galleons. “That’s totally unreasonable!”

“Take it or leave it.” the managed said. “If you want her so badly.” 

“Ben.” Sophie murmured quietly. “I... I can’t afford her. I don’t even have one galleon.” 

Benedict’s heart stuttered at the sombre expression on her face as she looked down mournfully at the little owl in her hands, with the small bird making a sad little noise, as if knowing she wouldn’t be leaving the store with Sophie. He couldn’t believe how heartlessly greedy the manager was being, charging such an extortionate amount to two students of all customers. 

He knew his parents wouldn’t have hesitated to pay for the owl for Sophie but he also knew the money he now had left from his father wouldn’t be enough to afford the bird - but with that being said, Benedict did still have some other money on him... 

“Fine!” he snapped, rummaging around in his jacket pocket and handing over the ten galleons, slapping them down into the manager’s hand. “And that had better come with a cage!” 

“Deal.” the manager smirked triumphantly, clearly delighted with the daylight robbery he had just pulled off. 

“Ben, you really shouldn’t have!” Sophie said. “I won’t be able to pay you back any time soon-”

“Pay me back for what?” he asked. “It’s my treat.”

“But... but what about your Firebolt?” her eyes shone at him worriedly. 

“No, no, no, no.” he quickly assured her. “That wasn’t from my own pocket money. No. No, mum and dad had money set aside to treat you today to something special. They mentioned it to me and Ant last night.” he expertly fibbed, knowing if he admitted to spending his own money on her that she would stubbornly try to turn his offer down to pay for the owl. 

“Really?” Sophie’s eyes rounded with astonishment. 

“Really.” he nodded. “It was always the plan to get you something extra special, Soph. Mum said if one of us was with you, without either her or dad, to buy whatever might have caught your eye. And nothing else has caught your eye quite like this little one.” he smiled and booped the owl on the head before the shop assistant took her from Sophie’s hands and placed her in the cage he had brought from out back. 

“Oh, thank you, Ben!” she cried and gave him a crushing hug. “Thank you so much!” 

“Of course, Soph.” he grinned and hugged her back, elated to have brought her such joy.

When they exited the emporium they met his parents laden with shopping bags and his sisters.

“Sophie!” Eloise gasped. “Did you get an owl?!” she asked as she and the rest of her sisters quickly surrounded the cage and awwed at the little bird, who hooted in greeting at her admirers. 

“Isn’t she adorable?” Sophie beamed as Daphne took the cage from her to get a closer look. “And thank you ever so much!” she then smiled at Violet and Edmund, both of who looked bewildered by the gratitude before Sophie supplied them with the explanation Benedict had just made up and then proceeded to hug them both. 

Over Sophie’s head his parents gave him a questioning look and he returned it with a silent plea, begging them to just go along with it. 

“But of course, dear.” Violet cupped Sophie’s face. “You deserve a treat. And we were saying you deserved an owl of your own.” she smiled and brushed a curl behind Sophie’s ear before giving her a quick peck on the forehead. 

Sophie positively beamed back at her and then returned to her new pet and eagerly began discussing names with the Bridgerton sisters. 

“Son? You ready to get your Firebolt?” Edmund asked him. 

“Oh. Right. Um, actually, I’m not going to bother.” Benedict quietly replied, making sure Sophie didn’t hear. “My old one’s fine and anyway it turns out I haven’t saved up enough.” 

“Honey, why don’t you take the girls to Sugarplum’s?” Violet suggested to Edmund, a silent communication taking place between them with a single glance. 

Edmund then steered Sophie and his daughters in the direction of the sweet shop, much to young Hyacinth’s delight, and then Benedict was left with his mother. 

“Ben, I’ve watched you count up and check and check again all the money you’ve saved for this Firebolt. You’ve talked of nothing else all summer. How come you suddenly can’t afford it?” she enquired with a raised brow. 

Never one to be able to keep anything from his mother, Benedict explained the situation at the emporium and how he paid out his own money just to make sure the little owl came home with Sophie.

“And I’m sorry for lying and claiming that you had treated her but I knew she wouldn’t have accepted me paying for the owl if she knew it was with my own money. But I couldn’t just let them cull that little owl, mum! And I couldn’t bear to see Sophie so distraught.” 

Benedict wasn’t expecting it when his mother drew him into a hug, stroking a hand through his hair and giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

“You are an incredibly kind and thoughtful young man, Benedict.” his mother hummed. “That was a very sweet thing of you to do.” 

“I mean, I know you would have done the same if you had been there-”

“I know, I know. But still, you did it without hesitation. I’m so proud of you, Ben.” 

“It was nothing. Really.” Benedict swallowed, feeling uncomfortable with the unnecessary praise. “Sophie deserves an owl.”

“She does.”

“And she deserves to be treated.”

“Of course.” 

“So it’s no big deal.” he shrugged. 

“Mmhm...” she regarded him with an unreadable look that Benedict knew was going to bug him if he tried to figure out what it meant. “Now, how about we get you that Firebolt?” 

“Mum, I can’t afford it anymore.” he reminded her.

“Yes you can.” she narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ve got to reimburse you for the money you spent on Sophie for the treat we were meant to be paying for, after all.” 

Benedict tried to argue that his mother needn’t pay the difference since it was his own choice to spend his money, but Violet wouldn’t hear of it, and ten minutes later he emerged from Quidditch Supplies with the brand new Firebolt tucked under his arm. 

[watchmegetobsessed]

Crushing - Harry Styles

a/n: just a little something that was inspired by a tiktok and @pastequeharry​ !

pairing: Harry X Famous!Reader

word count: 2.2k

masterlist

“Welcome back, I hope has everyone returned from our little break because we are playing a fun little game with Y/N, who by the way won a Grammy award for best new artist this weekend, so congratulations on that!”

Ellen smiles at you widely as she claps along with the audience and you’re just smiling shyly, still not quite used to the sound of it.

“Thank you,” you nod looking around.

“Okay, we are going to play a round of who’d you rather. Are you familiar with the game?” she asks you.

“Yes, I’ve seen others play it before.”

“Great. For those who don’t know the game, two people will show up on the screen and Y/N will have to choose one. Whoever she chooses will come with us to the next round and at the end we’ll know who is her ultimate crush.”

“Ah man,” you huff, feeling a little nervous about who they are gonna show you and the audience laughs at your reaction as your fingers dig into the armrest of the armchair you’re sitting comfortably in.

“Are you ready?” Ellen questions with a smile that tells you just how much she is enjoying this.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be, but let’s get started,” you chuckle nervously.

“Okay, let’s see our first pair,” she starts and two pictures show up on the big screen and on the smaller one at the front of the stage so you don’t have to crane your neck. “So we have Zendaya and Tom Holland. Who are you choosing?”

“You really had to start with two of my biggest Marvel crushes?!” you whine and the audience starts laughing again as you chew on your bottom lip, trying to decide. “I love them both, but I’m gonna have to go with Zendaya, because in height, we would be better. I’m sorry Tom, I still love you!” you declare, looking around all cameras, hoping they all got your confession.

“Alright. So now we’ll keep Zendaya and move on to the next person, who is… Harry Styles. Zendaya or Harry Styles?”

The blood rushes out of your face as you see a picture of Harry, memories of the two of you meeting at the award show in the weekend flooding back to your mind. Harry has been a crush of yours since probably forever. You’ve been a fan of his since his One Direction days and your career started to take off sometime around the time he started his solo career, only difference is that it took you a little longer to earn yourself a name in the industry. But this weekend you finally met him for the first time, in real life, without you just watching him on the stage with four other men.

You spotted him at the area that led to the red carpet, he was about to step out when his eyes laid on you and though he was wearing a mask, you still knew he was smiling from the little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. Your breath caught in your throat, stopping in your track as you were holding up your gown so you wouldn’t trip and fall with all the cameras around.

“Y/N! Hi!” he greeted you stepping closer, as if the two of you were old friends.

“Hi!” you managed to speak up, feeling completely starstruck.

“Love the gown! You look wonderful!” he complimented you and you could feel your cheeks heating up so fast.

“Oh, thank you, but I think you’re stealing the show with the boas,” you chuckled making him laugh as well.

“Thank you. Congrats on the nomination, I really hope you win by the way.”

“You do?”

“Of course. Listened to the album, it’s really good,” he nodded and your heart skipped a beat. Harry Styles listened to your album and he liked it? This must be Heaven, but when did you die?

“Thank you so much! I hope you win too, though your chances are better with your three nominations,” you joked making him laugh again.

“Yeah, just a little,” he nodded. “Here, let me help you.” He offered you his arm helping you step up the few steps that lead to the area where the red carpet photos were taken and you were thankful for the help, though you could already hear all the camera’s clicking in your way and you knew the photos would be all over the internet by the next day.

You only met one more time during the evening and you could only congratulate to each other on the wins before you both were snatched away, but you still play your conversation with him in your head before you go to bed in the evening.

“Um, Zendaya is everything but I’m gonna play this game honestly so I’ll choose Harry.”

The audience starts cheering and clapping at the decision as Ellen smirks at you, nodding along.

“No need to be shy, we all have a crush on Harry probably,” she jokes making you laugh. “Okay, next up we have… Harry Styles and The Weeknd.”

“I’m gonna stick to Harry,” you answer probably a little too fast, but if you’re being honest, they can’t show you anyone at this point who would beat Harry.

“Harry stays, next we have Harry and… Florence Pugh.”

“You guys made sure to make it hard for me!” you chuckle staring at the screen. “But I’m still gonna stick to Harry, though I love them both.”

“Alright, for the next round we have Harry Styles and Niall Horan.”

“I’m upset, because as a One Direction fan, I should not be forced to choose between them,” you point at Ellen, giving her a hard look which the audience finds quite hilarious.

“I’m sure you had ranked them before, don’t be shy,” she smirks and you sigh rolling your eyes.

“Okay, no offence to anyone but Harry stays. Sorry Niall, I still love you though,” you add with a smile.

“Harry is in a winning streak, it seems. Okay, let’s see his next opponent. Harry against Chris Evans.”

“Harry,” you answer with a sigh, crossing your legs, knowing well you will not choose anyone over Harry.

“Fast answer, great. Harry Styles or Ariana Grande.”

“Love Ariana, she’s a queen, but Harry,” you answer with a smile, the audience enjoying your obsession over Harry Styles and at this point you are not even trying to hide it.

“Harry Styles or Henry Cavill?”

“Harry,” you answer right away.

Henry’s picture disappears and Harry’s moves to the middle as the game comes to its end.

“Seems like we have a winner here. Harry Styles beat everyone!” Ellen chuckles as you glance at the big screen, blushing a little, but you are hoping your makeup is covering it well.

“You said it yourself, everyone has a crush on him,” you shrug, trying to play it cool.

“Yes, but not everyone was helped out by him,” she smirks as a photo of the two of you appears on the screen from last weekend and you cover your face with your hands as the audience goes wild.

“He is a gentleman,” you sigh dreamily.

“He really is and I have to say that the two of you look great together.”

“Oh stop it,” you chuckle, playing it over a little, just to make it less obvious how giddy even the thought makes you.

“Well, now we know that he is your number one choice, hopefully he’ll take the next step,” Ellen chuckles before moving on and asking you a few more questions as part of your appearance on the show.

Weeks go by and you kind of forget about the whole interview. It blows up the next few days, but nothing really happens, people just get excited that you are crushing on Harry just like everyone else, but it dies down pretty quickly.

You barely recovered from your Grammy win and yet you are already marching towards another milestone in your career. None other than Gucci asked you to be part of their new campaign in an amazing photoshoot and you just couldn’t say no, not that you ever even thought about it. After some online meetings and sending emails back and forth the first fitting’s day has finally arrived and you are buzzing!

Heading down to the showroom to go over every outfit they want you to wear for the photos, you can’t wipe the excited grin off your face. Growing up you could only dream about owning anything Gucci, now you are going to be promoting them so it truly is a dream come true.

Arriving you are walked into the showroom that is now filled with racks of clothes and there’s a podium with three mirrors surrounding it for the fitting.

“Y/N! Hi! So nice to finally meet you after all the emails and calls!” Nancy, the creative director of the campaign greets you.

“Nice to meet you too!”

“We are in a little bit of delay, I’m very sorry about that, but we can start in about ten minutes, if that’s alright with you.”

“Oh, no worries. I’m free all day,” you assure her before she thanks your patience and runs off to finish off whatever she was doing before.

Wandering around you take a look at the beautiful clothes on the racks, blown by basically everything you see and you can’t wait to wear the outfits that were meant for you. In the back of the room, a part is closed off for a changing area and you hear the door opening as Nancy walks out first, talking to someone following her behind and when you see the person, you freeze.

Harry Styles walks out, wearing a just a shirt and jeans, looking very casual but still, unbelievably hot. The man could wear a potato sack and still look better than any other men.

“Thank you so much,” he smiles at Nancy before his eyes lay on you, a wide smirk tugging on his lips in realization. “So nice to see a familiar face!” he beams, walking closer before he pulls you in for a short hug that catches you by surprise, but also warms your chest.

“Hi, didn’t expect to see you here, though you are kind of one with the brand at this point,” you tease him making him laugh.

“I am, yeah. I heard that you would be featured in the campaign as well. Amazing choice,” he smirks, glancing over at Nancy who smiles proudly, clearly agreeing with him.

“Y/N, I’ll get the changing room ready for you and we can start in five, alright?” Nancy informs you.

“Yeah, thank you!” You nod in her way and she is already off to do the work, leaving you and Harry alone.

“So, I learned some interesting information the other day,” he hums with a serious face and he got you curious about what it could be.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, you know, I was watching The Ellen Show and you were on, playing a little game.”

“Oh my God,” you breathe out, already feeling the heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks. Harry smirks down at you, clearly enjoying that he got you so nervous and embarrassed of what happened.

“I wish I knew about your little crush earlier!” he teases you, making your groan.

“And why is that? So you could pull my leg at the Grammy’s when I was already shitting my pants?”

Harry lets out a chuckle shaking his head as he hides his hands in his pockets, his eyes running up and down your figure before they meet with your gaze again.

“No. Because then I wouldn’t have talked myself down from asking for your number.”

You can’t help the stunned reaction that takes over your face at his blunt flirting, your lips part as your eyebrows shoot up while Harry just stares back at you with a sly smirk on his deliciously pink lips.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, but now that I know that you are crushing on me just like I’m crushing on you, I think it’s time to make the first step. So…” he pulls his phone out and hands it over to you and continues while you type your number in. “I’m not just asking for your number, but I happened to hear that you have nothing else planned for the day, is that true?”

“It is,” you nod, feeling out of breath as you hand him back his phone, your number saved in his contacts.

“Then how about grabbing lunch after your fitting? I happen to have nothing today as well, we should take advantage of it,” he suggests and you can’t push your stunned smile down.

“Sounds good,” you nod, biting into your bottom lip.

“Great. I’ll run some errands while you are here and I’ll be back in about an hour.”

“You could stay here if you want, I don’t mind it,” you tell him, feeling like he is only leaving because he doesn’t want to intrude.

“I would love to, but I really want to see the final outcome of the campaign and not spoil it for myself,” he smirks making you chuckle.

“Alright. Then see you in an hour.”

“Yeah,” he nods with a boyish smirk before turning around and walking out of the showroom.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

Y/N gets attacked and Chishiya is sure she will handle everything but when he sees her later there's blood everywhere, later he finds out that attackers actually cut her cheek really deepy and she will probably have a scar. He feels guilty and try to make it up by bringing something special (like cute pictures of cats bc he remembers when she quietly told Kuina that she loves cats) and from that day he is always trying to make sure that Y/N is doing fine. (2/2)

Of course! Here you go!

A Ginger Cat | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Characters(s): Chishiya (ft. Kuina, OC, Ann)

Summary: You get hurt during a game, but Chishiya thinks that you can handle it yourself. Later when he discovers that you were injured more worse than he thought, he brings you something to cheer you up

Warnings: swearing, blood

Word Count: 4.6k

*reader is female

The registration room had an eerie aura, you swore you could’ve heard a pin drop in there. Nothing was moving except the occasional piece of dust flying past in the breeze. You stood with your back to the wall, glaring up into the bright florescent light that had seemed to become an all too familiar ongoing theme of these homicidal games.

The wall was cold and rigid along your spine, but you put up with the small sharp pain. There was nowhere else to wait, besides on the disgustingly dirty floor. You had to gain as much rest and strength before beginning the game.

Kuina sighed heavily to the right of you, glancing at the game phone she had picked up a few minutes prior and rolling her head back against the wall in boredom. Chishiya stood next along from her, earbuds lodged in his ears and blasting loud music while he held his gaze strictly on the ground in front of him.

“Come on,” Kuina groaned, stretching her hands above her head. “When is this game starting? We’ve been here for a solid half an hour.”

She walked to the entrance of the registration room and peeked her head out the door. “I’m surprised no one else has come. Maybe it’ll be just us,” she suggested, turning back to you and Chishiya.

“That sounds great, until it’s a game of hearts,” you bluntly stated, fiddling with the fabric of your shirt. Chishiya and Kuina both turned to you, sudden concern on their faces at your accusation.

The room fell quiet once more, until a familiar voice echoed through the room from all your phones simultaneously.

“Registration is now closed,” it spoke. “Game: Mice, Cats and A Dog.”

You frowned at the strange game name, having heard nothing like it before. You felt a feeling of relief wash over you as a five of clubs card conveyed itself on your screen. You were anxious you had accidentally manifested it to be a hearts game with your sly comment earlier.

“Rules: Players are the Cats. There are three live Mice to catch, each hiding in different areas around the building. Once found, the Mice must be killed using your own preference of weapon that is available on the table in the registration room.”

All three of you glanced towards the small table positioned next to the phone table that was scattered with small weapons that would hardly be enough to hurt a human. You had been wondering why they had offered such shitty weapons.

“Although, you must avoid the Dog’s gaze, for it will kill the Cats on sight.”

Your heart dropped at that last statement. You were to be hunted.

“You have an hour to kill all three Mice and return to the lobby with the bodies. If you fail to do so, all exits around the building will be closed and several more Dogs will be released and finish off the remaining players. You have ten minutes to position yourself in the building before the Dog is released.”

The list of rules on your phone screen shifted to a timer for ten minutes, already beginning to count down. You turned to Chishiya and Kuina.

“Any strategies?” Kuina asked, looking between you and Chishiya.

You pursed your lips in thought. “Split up. That seems like the most logical option. It will be quicker to find the Mice then,” you proposed, crossing your arms over your chest and scanning over the small map nearby that disclosed the layout of the deserted hotel the game was taking place in.

“But then the “Dog” will have more of a chance to find us if we split up,” Kuina argued. Kuina always focused on the safer route to ensure everyone’s survival rather than the easiest.

“No, it will be worse if we’re together, cause it can kill us all at once,” you retorted, walking over to the weapon table and starting to scan your options.

“I agree with Y/N,” Chishiya spoke up, pushing himself off the wall and strutting over to stand next to you and help pick a weapon. “I played a game very similar to this one. The best option is that we separate. Only then do we have a chance of finding the Mice in the time limit.”

Just as he said it, the phones all announced you had nine minutes left until the hunter began searching for you.

“One mouse each, and if you find yours early, keep searching so we can speed up time.”

You nodded at Chishiya’s command, snatching a small hammer and a pocket knife from the table for your weapons. You all walked out of the registration area (the front desk of the hotel) and into the empty lobby, watching as the hanging chandeliers glistening against the moonlight shining through from the obnoxiously big windows.

If anything could have gotten worse, you had to find tiny mice in a huge hotel in the complete darkness of night.

***************

You took to the upper bar.

The area in itself didn’t seem that big. But when you found it, you realised that it would be incredibly hard to find a single mouse in the cracks and small spaces between all the furniture. The eerie aura didn’t help much.

You sighed in frustration after searching underneath yet another couch. “What the fuck is this game? How the fuck am I supposed to find a rodent in a huge place like this?” you whispered angrily, flopping down on the couch dramatically.

It had been around forty-five minutes since the “Dog” had been released, but you have always been quite confident in your escaping and hiding strategies, so you weren’t too worried. The only thing you were concerned about was finding a mouse. Chishiya and Kuina had to have caught theirs by now.

A small scuttling noise cut you from your thoughts. You snapped your head towards the bar, where the sound was emitting from. A wave of excitement filled you, becoming hopeful that the noise was the mouse you were searching for.

You stood from the couch and quickly walked towards the bar, making sure not to make too much noise in case you alerted the rodent. The noise seemed to have come from behind some bottles beneath the counter. You crouched down on your knees and looked along the shelves, scanning for any sign of movement.

“Come on little mouse,” you taunted, becoming frustrated. When you noticed the flash of illuminated eyes staring holes into you through the glass of a tequila bottle, you quickly snatched the neck of the bottle and pulled it from the shelf, locking eyes with a desperate mouse with it’s back half stuck in a mouse trap.

The mouse shook violently against the trap, letting out small squeaks of pain and glaring at you with fear in it’s eyes. Although, it’s most noticeable feature was a large cross that almost seemed burned into it’s lower back. The cross had no fur or skin along it.

“This has to be one of them,” you reassured yourself, reaching to pull out the small pocket knife.

You picked up the mouse trap and hissed as the mouse managed to nip a part of your finger in defence. “Little shit,” you muttered, before pressing the point of your knife against the mouse’s back and pushing in harshly to kill it.

You hoped that you would just end it’s life and that would be that. But of course, the game had to throw in some sort of twist.

As you stabbed the small rodent, a impossibly loud screeching sound emitted from it’s tiny throat, making you drop the creature in shock and cover your ears.

The animal screeched and screeched, pain dripping from it’s cries that echoed across the room angrily. You began to panic, realising that there’s a chance the hunter could hear you. But maybe that was the point.

“Shut up!” you yelled over the mouse’s cries. You pulled the knife swiftly from the mouse’s fur and continued to repetitively penetrate it’s skin, mercilessly making it shut up while blood splattered across your angered face.

You breathed heavily once the room had fallen silent once again, staring down at the mutilated dead rodent. For a short moment, you felt bad for ending it’s life so unpeacefully.

Your head snapped up to look over the bar when sudden heavy footsteps made their way down the hall outside the bar. Your heart leapt to your throat and you turned to press your back against the bar, keeping your head down so whoever it was couldn’t see you.

You cringed as you picked up the remains of the mouse, holding it tight in your hand so you wouldn’t drop it. If Chishiya and Kuina had finished their halves, all you had to do was get to the lobby and you would be fine.

You placed your spare hand over your mouth to quieten your breathing, listening to the footsteps of the stranger who brought themselves into the room. The rapid movement of their feet made you anxious. You had never encountered a hunter that could run as fast as that.

You heard them flip a few tables over, hearing glasses smash against the walls aggressively. You closed your eyes tightly in realisation. The attacker was trying to make it harder for you to leave quietly if you were in there.

When the room fell quiet, you slowly peeked your head over the top of the bar. You managed to catch sight of the hunter themselves.

They seemed to have resembled the body of an older male, fit and tall. They had long, baggy pants, a black t-shirt while holding a machete that easily was as long as your arm. But most oddly, they wore a mask that conveyed a snarling German Shepherd.

The hunter was preoccupied over by the lounged area, looking behind the back rests of the couches and underneath coffee tables.

‘If I stay here any longer, they’re guaranteed to find me,’ you thought to yourself.

You decided you were going to attempt to leave. You had more of a chance of surviving by running than hiding.

You lifted your legs and trudged towards the edge of the bar, ducking underneath the table that was placed at the end before slowly rising to your feet. A quick glance down at your hand was enough to reassure you that you hadn’t dropped your ticket to a few more days of staying alive.

You kept your eyes locked on the hunter, making sure they didn’t turn their back as you were trying to leave. You thought you had almost made it before you miscalculated your step and tripped over a shattered glass on the ground, making you stumble forward and a loud noise erupt from the impact from your shoe to the glass.

As soon as you regained your balance, you didn’t even bother checking if the hunter had heard, you knew they did. You immediately took off running, holding your pocket knife in one hand in fear. You weren’t even halfway down the hall running towards the lobby before you heard the Dog’s footsteps behind you, trailing close and fast.

“Chishiya! Kuina!” You screamed out, picking up your pace and holding the body of the dead mouse close to your chest to make sure you didn’t drop it.

There was no way they were going to help you now, especially against someone like that. You were on your own for now, so you put faith in your own legs to carry you all the way down to the lobby.

Your heart was racing as you almost fell down the flights of stairs, so desperate to get away. At some point, you glanced upwards and saw your pursuer on the flight above you, making you feel sick.

“Fuck,” you gasped out, quickly scrambling down the darkened stairs. The blood of the mouse’s corpse seeped through your fingers as you held it in a tense fist, dripping down your arm grotesquely.

As you neared the ground level of the hauntingly big hotel, you stumbled as you jumped the few remaining steps and saw a sign that had an arrow labeled “Main Lobby” pointed to the left. You took in that direction, glancing behind you to see the “Dog” hot on your tail.

But unfortunately, you took too long to look at the sign. The “Dog” quickly caught up, grabbing an aggressive fistful of the back of your shirt and yanking you backwards towards them. You were too scared to scream. The air was forced from your lungs as you were pulled back, landing on the ground with the “Dog” suddenly standing over you, feet planted on either side of you.

Before you could even think, their machete plummeted down towards your face, making you flinch your head to the right, narrowly avoiding the blade. Although, the edge of the sharp metal managed to graze your cheek, creating a long gash along the side of your face.

The “Dog” continued to attempt to stab you in the face, stumbling above you as you attempted to kick their legs out from underneath them. In a sudden desperate attack, you kicked with all your might at their locked knees and they let out a yelp of pain as their knee buckled harshly backwards. You took the opportunity to run, not even giving them a second glance. You knew they’d already be back on their feet, after you again.

As you neared the humongous room that was labeled the lobby, you saw Chishiya and Kuina by the big doors that led inside. They seemed to have been banging their fists against an invisible force, separating you from them. The game must have locked them in when they placed their dead mice in the box that was located in the centre of the huge hall.

Their faces changed their hopeful expressions when they saw your pursuer, the blood running from their cheeks, making them pale. As soon as you entered the lobby, passing through the invisible force with ease, they followed behind you quickly.

“Hurry! Throw it in!” you heard Chishiya cry to you desperately behind you. You glanced back to see him slowing down, holding out his taser towards the “Dog” in case they managed to reach you. The electric light of his taser lit up significantly in the darkened room.

Once you reached the small white box placed on the table in the centre of the room, you shoved the disgusting remains of your victim inside, watching as it landed on top of two other mice.

Everything froze. The “Dog” immediately stopped running, dropping to their knees and face-planting onto the ground in front of Chishiya. All three of you stopped in shock, heavy breaths filling the air. Had you done it?

“Game Clear. Congratulations.”

The collar around the “Dog’s” neck exploded, blood splattering the walls and coating the gorgeously patterned carpet with it’s own artwork. You had seen it many times before. Once more couldn’t hurt.

“Took you long enough,” you heard Chishiya smartly remark. You glanced towards him, raising an eyebrow. He looked smug, as always. Not a single scratch on him.

“Give me a break, I had to face someone three times the size of me,” you remarked, rubbing your face tiredly. Your adrenaline had calmed, and now the pain of your deep gash on your cheek settled in. You hissed as your palm grazed it, pulling back and looking at your hand to see blood across it.

“Shit,” you rasped out, wiping your hand on the material of your pants.

“You okay Y/N?” Kuina questioned, walking over to you. You shook your head, dismissing her. “Yeah I’m fine. Just a small gash. It’ll heal soon enough,” you reassured.

“Are you sure? That looks quite deep,” Chishiya commented, strutting over and using his hand to push your chin to the side so he could look more closely at it. The feeling of his hand placed so gently on your skin made your heart suddenly race, and you panicked and pulled your head away before he could even see your wound.

“No, it’s fine,” you insisted, attempting to hide your embarrassment. “Let’s go back. It’s getting late, and I’m tired and hungry.”

***************

You stood in your bathroom, attempting to wash your clothes that you wore at the game earlier. You were soaking and scrubbing them in the bathtub. No matter how much blood seeped from the fabrics, it never seemed to be clean enough.

You grunted, annoyed and tired. Kuina said she was going to spend some time out nearby the pool with Arisu and talk to him about his game. Chishiya didn’t say where he was going, but you assumed it would be the roof or something away from everyone else.

A wet feeling along the side of your neck made you suddenly flinch and hit your skin, worried it was a weird bug of some sort. But your eyes widened when you brought your hand back and saw the concerning amount of blood spread across your palm.

You stood up from the side of the bathtub and leant against the sink, looking to the large mirror. “For fucks sake,” you sighed out as you caught sight of your large gash again. “This has been bleeding for hours. How do I make this stop?”

You winced as the moist towel you used earlier was once again dabbing along the skin of your face, collecting up the annoyingly large amount of blood percolating from your cheek. You were becoming afraid that it wasn’t going to stop at all, but you were too stubborn to go to Ann for medical help.

You’ve seen her weird dissection obsession, so you felt uneasy putting the trust of your health into her hands.

The blood dripped quicker the more you attempted to clean it up. Soon, there were miniature blood puddles scattered around the sink as you kept trying to clean them.

*********** “Hey Usagi, have you seen Y/N?”

Chishiya was making his way around The Beach searching for you. He usually liked spending his late nights having a drink with you in a quiet corner of the ground floor pool. Although, he hadn’t been able to find you and he was getting worried. You usually were either down in the lobby or with Kuina after games.

“No, I haven’t. Sorry Chishiya.”

He huffed annoyed, thanking Usagi and walking away from the dance floor. He thought he should check in your room as a last resort, but if you weren’t there, that’s when he would really worry.

He slowly made his way up the multiple flights of stairs, passing by a few people on the way. During the walk, he zoned out in his own thoughts, his mind filing with you.

How would he ever tell you how he felt? He believed you only saw him as a friend, an annoying one at that. Especially since you happen to banter a lot with him. The thought made him smile, he loved that you didn’t take his bullshit seriously and treated it like a game.

‘How do I let her know that I truly do care for her?’ he asked himself, fiddling with the drawstrings of his white hoodie as he strolled down the brightly lit hall. He hadn’t ever been the best with emotions, so how could he show that he was genuine about his romantic feelings towards you?

When Chishiya reached your room, he lifted his fist to knock on the rotting wood, freezing suddenly. Why was he hesitating? He’s done this so many times before, why was he suddenly nervous? He shook his head, embarrassed for catching himself in these thoughts. He had worked himself up again.

He knocked on your door loudly three times before calling out to you. “Y/N? You in there?” The silence that followed his call made him anxious. He knocked again, this time more persistently.

“Coming!” he heard your muffled voice call through the door. He stood back from the door as you opened it, giving you a small smile. But it soon disappeared from your face when he locked eyes with the bloody tissue that you held to your cheek.

“Hey Chish,” you groaned out, lazy eyed and turning back into your room, leaving the door so he could come in. Chishiya rushed to you quickly. “Wait, Y/N. What’s going on? Why are you hurt?” he asked frantically, pulling on your shoulder to get you to look at him.

You brushed his hand off of you. “It’s fine. Just a small gash from the game earlier. It started bleeding again,” you said, giving him a stare.

Chishiya shook his head and cupped your face, avoiding your cut, to have a closer look. “No Y/N, that doesn’t look okay. It’s bleeding way too much.”

You stayed still as he replaced your hand holding the tissue on your face with his own, being as gentle as he could as he cleaned the blood gathering around the gash.

“Here, sit down on the bed,” he muttered, indicating towards the end of your bed. You both shuffled over and sat down, Chishiya still holding the tissue on your face.

You could feel his hot breath against your lips as he examined your wound. His dark eyes glistened in the dim light of your hotel room. He looked ethereal. But he took a quick glance towards your eyes, snapping you from your daze. You hissed as he caught a bit of the gash on the tissue. “Sorry,” he apologized, moving his hand to your chin to readjust your position.

He then sat up and walked towards the bathroom, walking quickly so the blood of your injury didn’t drip too much. As he was there, you heard a soft gasp. He probably had found the blood-covered sink and towels.

He returned back with a clean towel that he found in your bathroom cabinet. He held a somewhat annoyed expression on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me this? If I knew it was this bad, I would’ve helped you out.”

You shrugged your shoulders. To be honest, you weren’t too sure why you didn’t tell Chishiya or Kuina. It just didn’t seem that big of a deal.

“You’ll need some stitches,” he concluded, holding a clean towel underneath your cut. “Also, stop using tissues to clean the blood. They flake easily and can stick to your injury.”

You nodded, looking down in embarrassment. You wish Chishiya didn’t find you like this. You hated making anyone else worry about you when it wasn’t entirely necessary.

“Look at me,” he demanded, bringing your head up with a gentle hand on your neck. Your breath got caught in your throat as he wiped around your cheek, cleaning up any excess blood.

“Come on. Let’s get you to Ann,” he said, standing up and holding his hand out for you.

You took his hand and he pulled you up playfully, making you almost stumble into him. You glared at him. “Wow. Even when I’m injured you’re still a bully,” you teased. Chishiya smirked and winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

And yet, the whole way to Ann’s medical room, you didn’t let go of his hand.

***************

You woke as the sun hit your eyelids, illuminating your room with bright rays of light. The sun was strangely gorgeous that morning, so you woke up in a good mood.

You sat up and stretched, letting out a large groan as your bones popped in your back. Although a wince made its way onto your face as you yawned, making the skin of your treated gash stretch.

Chishiya had told Ann to place a protected medical patch on your cut, since he thought it would be better than just leaving it in case of it getting infected or worse during your next game. So for the time being, you had a flat piece of cotton taped on your face. Ann said to only leave it on until it had certainly stopped bleeding through, as well as to change it around two or three times a day.

When your eyes finally adjusted to your surroundings, your sight landed on a strange scene in front of you.

At the table on the end of your bed, there was a small plushie of a ginger kitten. The makeshift fur on the stuffed toy was slightly dirty and it was missing a bead for an eye, but it still remained strangely comforting.

You crawled to the end of your bed and reached out to grab the plushie, bringing it close to you and looking over it for anything. Who knows? Someone could have put it in your room as a trap.

But it was proven safe when you noticed the small, neat writing on the end of the kitten’s tail, which read ‘Chish’.

You chuckled at the childish toy, realising Chishiya must have snuck it into your room while you were asleep.

“Idiot,” you laughed, “Can’t tell me he likes me as his friend but he can put enough effort into finding a stuffed cat in the Borderland for me.”

It felt special, because you knew Chishiya would have had to go into deserted Tokyo to find such a gift for you. You looked on the table and saw a small piece of paper. You frowned and reached out for it and opened it.

‘Here’s a stupid plushie for your troubles. Kuina said you liked cats so I thought you’d feel better with this xx’

You laughed at his half-hearted message. Chishiya never was that good with words, but he didn’t have to be in order for you to understand how he felt towards you.

Although the plushie was a bit beaten and battered, it still brought such a sense of home to you.

***************

You sat in the lobby, watching everyone scuttle around. Your usual drunken party group passed through every now and then, which was always good entertainment.

You jumped as you felt a pair of hands suddenly grip onto your shoulders, quickly moving to your eyes and covering them.

“Guess who?” the stranger asked cheekily, making you relax when you recognised their familiar, cocky voice.

“Get your hands off me Chishiya,” you giggled, pulling on his hands and turning around so you would face him. His face held a big smile across it, which was so unlike his usual neutral expression.

“What’s got you so happy?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow. Chishiya pulled away from your face and jumped over the back of the couch so he was then sitting beside you.

“Nothing, I’m just happy to see you,” he admitted, laying his head on your shoulder comfortably. His boldness was rather prominent then more than you had ever seen.

“How’s your cut?” he asked, looking up to examine the patch on your cheek. You shrugged it off. “It’s fine, not too bad now.”

Chishiya smiled, and suddenly leaned forward and left a lingering kiss on your good cheek, making your eyes widen at his action. “That’s good,” he gushed and continued on like he didn’t do anything.

“Yeah. Um...” you muttered awkwardly while rubbing the spot on your face where he kissed. “I wanted to say... thanks for the gift earlier,” you said, placing an arm around his shoulder comfortably.

Chishiya beamed happily, but tried to hide his blush by turning away from you. “No problem,” he mumbled out, trying to sound like he didn’t care.

You laughed at his response. Chishiya may have not been that good with words, but he didn’t need to be for you to notice that he really loved you.

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Cat Got Your Tongue

Chapter One

Master List /  Series Master List

A/N: This series is set in the same world as Bare In The Woods (a one-shot were-bear Henry Cavill story). This series will be cross posted between Tumblr and AO3. As Tumblr has no way of preventing minors from reading the smutty bits (and there will be smutty bits) those chapters will only be available on AO3.

My archive work is available to Register Users Only. This means Yes, You Must Have An Account with Archive to read my work. If you'd like more information on how to acquire your Free archive account, please see this post. All you need is an email address to sign up. That's it. Just do it people.

Read on AO3 here!

Summary: The community of Salvation holds many secrets, not the least of which is the diversity of were-folk who call it home. Ember Porosha is one resident for who Salvation isn't just the town's name but her saving grace. After outrunning her past, she's resigned herself to playing surrogate to everyone else's children and never having her own. A mate was not in her future, and she was learning to live with that. Until he walked through the door of The Last Book and Brew.

Thomas Loki Hiddleston wasn't going to be in town long. Here for the naming of Henry and his wife's baby girl and presentation to the weres of Salvation, he planned only to stay a few days. A small town like this could never offer him the outlet he needed for his cat's dark desires, nor could he hide what he was for long. His nature would eventually need an outlet and Salvation held nothing for him. Or so he thought. One wiff of Ember's unique scent and he knew he'd found a long thought lost to him future.

But when she doesn't fall at his feet, and proves more stubborn than a mule, can he resit taking her in hand long enough to win her heart? Or will the bond between true mates not be enough to tame this wild hellcat.

Series warnings: Were-Creatures, Cats, Bears, Smut, Shameless Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Explicit Language, Dom/sub, Blood, Blood Kink, this one could (will) get kinky

***

When the sleek black car drove through town, Ember gave it only a passing glance. It was odd, sure, but anyone who drove a Jag was so far out of her league they were playing on a different ball diamond altogether. The car screamed money, something she cared little about.

Sure she needed it, everyone did, but Ember was content with what she had, and in this sleepy town cradled lovingly between the mountains, she didn't need much. She had her sweet yellow cottage, her bookstore, and a community of friends when she desired company. And now, with the snow falling thick on the ground, she would have another singular pleasure. 

Ember's little snow leopard heart leapt at the thought of running through the high passes and sliding down the long slopes, her wide paws keeping her above the snowpack instead of sinking in while her thick coat kept out the cold. It had been too long since she'd last played in her were form, and was looking forward to going out to the ranger station in a few days to visit with Henry, his wife, and their little cub. 

The sweet baby girl already had Henry wrapped firmly around her finger, and Ember couldn't help but laugh at the goofy smile that perpetually graced his face when he looked at his family. 

If a pang of jealousy jabbed her heart, Ember didn't let it show. She'd resigned herself to a lonely life a long time ago. 

The bell over the door of her little shop gave a merry jingle, and she placed the last of the new James Patterson novels on the shelf before dusting off her hands and stepping out from behind the bookshelves to smile at Lorraine, the town's most gossipy raven.

If she was fluttering into The Last Book and Brew, then Ember was about to hear an earful.

***

Tom swept into the charming inn and forced himself to smile at the woman behind the desk. He'd spent a miserable six hours on the road, driven through a blizzard, and killed his cellphone when he'd dropped it in an icy puddle two hours prior as he'd filled the car with petrol. But there was no alternate way to get to Salvation, buried deep in the mountains, except to drive. 

And Salvation was where he needed to be. 

His old friend, Henry, was celebrating the birth of his first cub, and Tom dropped everything to come and see the little darling Henry was blessed with. And to meet the woman who'd tamed the giant bear after all this time. Sadly, he'd been unable to attend their wedding, but he refused to miss the welcoming of a new were into the community, whether he belonged to the Salvation clan or not.

That didn't mean he wouldn't give Hen the gears for choosing to live in some backwater nowhere even if it was beautiful here. 

Still, Tom preferred the city for its indulgences and entertainments. No, he couldn't fall on all fours and run through the concrete jungle he called home, but he'd long come to terms with his destiny. It wasn't as if there was a panther out there waiting to run under the moonlight with him. 

He was going to be a lone cat, a bachelor. He'd resigned himself to it, for no matter what anyone said, no one - were or human - had ever submitted wholly to his dark desires and chosen to stay in his possession afterward. They were all far too soft for his liking, ending in no more than a one-and-done.

At least, he could stalk the clubs and play with those unaware of his darkest needs and wants in the city. Tom was not a Dom to be denied, and those who gave in to the allure of his pretty face soon learned all about the devil underneath his Gucci suit.

"Hello, darling," he purred to the desk clerk. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, checking in. I believe I have a reservation."

She blushed to the roots of her hair, sputtered, and nodded. "Of-of course, sir. If-if you'll sign a few things and put your card on file, I can get you situated on your back- In your room!" she corrected, staring at her hands. 

Tom couldn't hide his smile, but he swallowed his laughter. It was always the same. The sweet little birds flocked to him, but they had no idea a predator was stalking them.

He went through the incidentals, signed her documents, collected his key and listened intently when she told him about the room, breakfast, the restaurant, spa, and pool. His ears perked up at the last. He did enjoy a refreshing swim. 

"And if you fancy something other than regular coffee or black tea, there is The Last Book and Brew just down the street. Ember makes the best scones and tea."

"Does she now?" he murmured, eyeing Irene - her name on a little plaque pinned to her chest - as she handed him back his credit card. "Perhaps I'll check in on it. A cuppa does sound delightful." The drive had been long, and tea might be just the pick-up he needed before calling round to Henry's. 

He nodded to Irene and headed for the stairs instead of the elevator. Three floors were nothing for his long legs, the exertion minimal, as he hiked to the third floor and down to the end where he fit the old-fashioned key into the antique lock and pushed open the door. 

Tom was pleasantly surprised to find a mixture of well-kept antiques and modern furnishings decorating the space. While the bed and mattress were new and covered with clean, white duvet and sheets, the dresser - upon which sat a television - was a heavy mahogany buffet with curved Queen Anne legs. The bathroom was a revolution of modern plumbing though a cast iron tub stood on clawed feet beside a glass shower big enough for two. Gilt framed mirrors hung above dual vanities into which water poured from brushed gold fixtures. 

It was all very romantic with its old-world charm though the inn was showing its age. Wallpaper lifted at the edges, millwork was chipped and rubbed in places, and a few of the lovely old tiles on the floor in the bathroom were cracked. But with the likely age of the building, it wasn't so surprising. If the gorgeous stone building weren't at minimum a century, he would eat his scarf. 

She could be an absolute beauty with effort and enough money. Yes, he would be comfortable here for a time. The Salvation Inn would suit him.

Tom made his way to the windows that looked out on Salvation's main street. The road was a mess of dirty snow, sanded and salted for ease of travel, but the thick white flakes floating down turned the quaint replica gas street lights into white-topped monuments of winter. Storefronts glowed with welcoming light, still running their Autumn displays, creeping toward American Thanksgiving. The commercialization of Christmas had yet to appear, giving everything a cheerful, colourful cast he found pleasing to his senses. 

Cars moved without hurry, mimicking the people coming and going about their business. Everyone was bundled up, but no one seemed to mind the cold and the snow. To be expected, he supposed. They lived in the mountains where snow fell early and lasted late. 

As his gaze traversed the lane, his attention landed on The Last Book and Brew and caused him to tilt his head, intrigued. Unlike the other traditional storefronts with their brick faces and colourful awnings, gold filigree writing on wooden signs, the little bookstore had a distinctly different feel to it. 

The door, window frames, and brickwork that accented the front of the building were painted a shiny, deep black. There was no awning but three stunning lanterns hung above the windows on wrought iron arms, beautifully curved like the elegant lines of a woman's body. A sign in the same black iron hung perpendicular to the door. Shaped like a shield or some family crest, the words The Last Book and Brew glowed crimson outlined in gold, while a raven of the same black iron sat guard, casting judgement on all who entered. Red velvet mounded in the windows, lovingly cradling the displayed books like sacrificial offerings. 

Someone knew what they were doing, for that was the sexiest storefront Tom had ever seen.

Utterly enchanted and desperate to see if the interior matched the exterior, he left his leather valise unpacked on the bed, pocketed his key, and headed for the door.

Irene looked up as he passed her, but Tom paid the clerk little mind. He was on a mission, a hunt now, needing to discover the answer to the mystery of just who this Ember of Last Book and Brew was that she could create with such aplomb a store so alluring. 

There was no wind when he trotted down the inn's exterior stairs and out into the snowfall. Traffic was light, so he crossed mid-street, avoiding puddles and snowbanks in an attempt to keep the Italian leather of his shoes dry while large flakes of falling snow collected in his dark ginger locks. He reached the door and admired the ornate handle before opening the door into another world. 

Tom stepped inside and stared in amazement. He'd never thought a bookstore could be moody, but this one certainly was. The floors were highly polished ebony wood that led into dark railings which spiralled past the sunken first-floor cafe up a short flight of stairs toward the bookstore beyond. 

He admired the cobblestone floor in the cafe, again shiny with polish, sealed he suspected to make cleanup easier. Upon them sat a virtual Mad Hatter's Tea Party of chairs, all shapes and sizes separated by wrought iron tables topped with glass. And though the chairs were unique in shape, they matched for colour, upholstered as they were in the blood-red and black brocade that turned them into a sexy indulgence he prayed were as comfortable as they looked. 

And hung above it all, like a lady's magnificent fascinator, was a chandelier worthy of the name. Clearly electric, it appeared to drip ropes of black jewels and crystals as long as his palm, lit by three dozen candles that flickered with faux flames. It was spectacular.

Beyond, the cafe counter, like a walnut dream, appeared to be a repurposed and rehabbed saloon bar where elegant scrollwork on a pristine chalkboard announced the daily specials. He could see the cakes and pastries in their glass case, and while his stomach rumbled to remind him of the last meal he'd eaten, Tom was too enthralled with the decadence of the store to allow himself to be led by his nose when a small sign at the foot of the stairs requested no food past that point. 

Another small sign asked him to wipe his feet, which he did without thought, before heading up the short but wide curved stairwell to the second floor into the fantasy world of someone's most magnificent mind. 

He felt guided by the hand of a fae as he wound his way through ebony bookcases over hardwood floors, beneath more hanging lanterns and delicate chandeliers. The soft white of all the lights allowed him to read titles and leaf through pages without feeling as if the overhead lights would eventually dry out his eyes or buzz their annoyance through his brain. Every so often, he came upon stands of lightly scented candles, or soaps, or lotions made with all-natural products and tingling with the lightest touch of were-magic, causing Tom to look at the store with deeper senses. 

The corners and cardinal points of the space had crystal wards, he realized, and the soft pulse of benevolent magic left him at ease. Whoever this Ember was, she bid all who came to her sanctuary welcome. 

Even more intrigued than before, Tom found his way toward the counter where voices spoke in hushed tones, intent on finding the owner and congratulating her on the sensual, slightly erotic nature of her store. It left him breathless in a way that was hard for him to come by, and yet even as it pulled at his dark, seductive nature, he knew a family could come into such a place and find it magical, like falling into the rabbit hole of a dark Alice fantasy.

"That's nice, Lorraine, but I don't think Henry would approve of you gossiping about his friend."

Tom stopped in his tracks. Warm brandy and velvet bled over his senses, stroking straight through him to the soul of his cat. The panther purred and preened, wanting the owner of that voice to pet him and whisper words of seduction in his ear. 

"Poppycock! Some big-city fella isn't going to care if we mountain folk talk about him."

Ugh, raven. He'd know that grating tone anywhere.

"Besides, he's some fancy lawyer or something," the raven, Lorraine, continued. "I'm sure he's used to people talking about him."

"It is still impolite."

Tom shivered, eyes half-lidding. He had to roll his head, stretching his neck to keep from sprouting fur. What he wouldn't give for one night with the owner of that voice. 

Never one to hide in the face of scrutiny, Tom glided out from behind the bookshelf and smiled at the two women. "Actually, I run hotels."

The raven eeped and jumped, spinning to face him. She was older than he'd suspected, her dark hair thoroughly saturated with grey though her eyes remained clear brown orbs. The other, oh, the other, he could not help but stare.

Her face was the kind that would make angels weep with sharp, classic features, high cheekbones and a pointed chin like a sweet little fox. Her big eyes widened in surprise, showing off the shocking green, so pale and light they were almost neon when the light caught them. The heavy fall of thick curls that slipped from her shoulder left his mouth dry with the desire to sink his fingers into the mass that started black at the root and faded into tones of silver and dark grey, hinting at patterns like small rosettes. 

A sleek, lithe body lovingly caressed by a sweater of raspberry wool and leggings of black knit glided out from behind the cash desk, her steps silent in small silver ballet flats. "Mr. Hiddleston?"

"Indeed," he purred, accepting her hand when she offered it. He captured it between both of his rather than shaking it as presented and held it lightly. "Thomas Loki Hiddleston, at your service, love. My friends call me Tom."

"Ember Porosha. Welcome to Salvation and The Last Book and Brew." She tilted her head, causing all that lovely hair to slide to the opposite shoulder. "Henry speaks highly of you."

"Mm," he chuckled, adjusting his grip to lightly press his thumb into the palm of her hand as he brought her knuckles to his lips. "Brags, does he?"

"Terribly," she agreed with a smile.

Tom smirked and pressed his lips to her skin. He inhaled and went rigid. That scent, the sweet smell of pine and snow somehow laced with the delicate notes of summer dreams, drowned him, flooding his lungs until he was sure he would never be able to breathe again without breathing in Ember's delectable fragrance. 

She tried to retrieve her hand. Tom growled, low and deep, more a purr than a reprimand, and opened eyes he knew would glow green with his cat. 

"Well, hello, pet," he smiled. "It seems I was wrong." He wasn't destined to be alone after all.

Sharp claws latched into his hands. "I've no desire to start anything with you, true mate or not."

He dropped her hands and brought his to his mouth to catch the blood seeping from the minor wounds. "We will see about that."

She hissed at him. 

Tom threw his head back and laughed before gliding into her personal space and threading his fingers into her hair. "Spit all you like, little kitten. I always get what I want."

"I think it's time you left, Mr. Hiddleston," Ember growled, her hand on his chest to keep him at bay. 

"Tea first," he smirked. "I'm gagging for a cuppa. Haven't had a decent one all day!" He stroked the silvery strands before letting them fall through his fingers. "Is your coat just as soft, Kitten?"

She glared daggers at him. "Leave."

He chuckled but stepped back, practically able to see her tail flick in anger. "Until later then, Ember."

***

He turned on his heels and sauntered away, leaving her seething behind him. How dare he. How dare he! How dare he assume such liberties when they'd only just met. When it was clear he was only passing through and would leave nothing but devastation in his wake.

"How dare he!" she hissed and stormed toward the back of the store to her office to calm down, forgetting Lorraine was still there.

Ember didn't slam the door, knowing he was still in the store, and she'd be damned before she gave him that much power over her. She would not be brought to heel like some… some… Kitten!

She growled a low sound and clenched her fists, determined to get control of herself and that snow leopard rolling like a damn hussy inside her.

She'd smelt him the moment he'd stepped beyond the books—dark spice and leather, mandarin and rosewood, with notes of cinnamon and vanilla. Ember's mouth watered with the desire to taste his skin and see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

"No," she said firmly. Her cat scoffed. "He won't stay here. He's a big city panther, and we will never go back." She was determined to live alone, be alone because she was safer that way.

Salvation was, well, their salvation. When she was most desperate for a new start and a place to hide from her past, Salvation was there with open arms, and an established were community.

Her cat settled down with the reminder and left her alone to pick up the phone.

Ember dialed the number by heart and waited for them to answer. "Hey, Henry, it's Ember. About tonight. Something has come up… I'm… not going to make it."

Next Chapter

[mehphoobia]

HERE

Pairing- Tom Hiddleston x Reader (news channel anchor)

Summary- People say falling in love can be a scary experience. Well, that scary experience for you had a different meaning for you.

Warnings- blood, horror, mystery, thriller, suspense (I suggest get a water bottle for yourself)

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"Susan Hive, another 25 y/o was found dead in her apartment approximately at 10:00 am today. Who is the mastermind behind these brutal murders? the mystery is still with the police to crack. The only witness in the case are the walls of the apartment which are covered in parts of human anatomy never seen before just like the other five murders. This is Y/N of NewsToday with cameraperson David on scene." You sighed after finishing your report and looked at the crime scene. The camera person packed his camera and headed towards the van as he couldn't handle the stench. With ripples on your forehead you contemplated your decision. Should you or should you not tell the officers.

But soon you let aside your dilemma. These were brutal murder cases that had everyone shook.

And you had a lead to follow.

"Who are you?" you whispered as you sat in your chair staring at the photo of the deceased Susan Hive with a man. The face was not visible as he wore a black hat and a black overcoat. "Typical" you said gesturing his attire, which was straight out of a murder mystery. Unfortunately, the officers couldn't find him. But the lead you had could directly deliver this man to you.

"North House please" explaining the address to the taxi driver, you couldn't miss his expressions. "You want to go to the North House?" he asked you with genuine concern. "If you are not comfortable, you can just drop me near the curb" you suggested understanding his hesitation. Reluctantly he drove the taxi and there you were. Standing outside the hospital for mental patients. "How much will it be?" asking the driver for the fare you rummaged through your purse.

"I will wait here miss. You can pay me later" he said. Of course, the deaths in this hospital would scare anyone. But you weren't here for the suicides, you were here for the murders.

"I am here to see someone. A Mrs. Hill." you spoke confidentially to the receptionist. "For an investigation, are we?" the receptionist questioned. "It's confidential" you replied with knitted eyebrows. "oh! of course it is." she chuckled.

The receptionist accompanied you to Mrs. Hill's room. She was the oldest patient, who had been in the hospital for for around thirty years. Every patient, every staff member; she had seen for herself. "Are you here for the investigation for Susan Hive?" the receptionist questioned. Your head whipped faster than the wings of a bee. "You knew her?" you enquired. "Yes, I knew all five of them. They were interning under me." she answered.

"Janice Dean" her ID card read. "Of course" you murmured. Ten days back you had found one of the victim's case file from the officers which had something in common. North House, all three of them worked here and now so did Susan Hive.

"Don't worry I won't bug her too much" putting a and on Ms. Dean's shoulder you reassured her. She offered you a tired smile. With that she unlocked the door and you saw Mrs. Hill sitting on her chair.

"He killed another one didn't he?" she enquired in her shaky voice as if she knew it was going to happen. "Yeah. Do you know you he is?" trying to keep your posture, you asked. "No, but I have seen him." she replied. "Black eyes which weren't even his. Long hair which covered his face and the cuts." "Everyone thought, something was wrong in his head. They tried all kinds of medicines but none of them worked. He kept screaming and yelling every day. It would echo you know. The screams. Other patients could feel it too. But the doctors didn't know something." she explained but suddenly trailed off.

"He was possessed" she declared.

"How did he get out. I mean the patient like--" "Demon" she corrected. "We saw a body lying in his room. We thought its him. He had cuts all over his face so it was recognizable. The post mortem reports found out it was one of our doctors. He escaped as his disguise." explained Ms. Dean.

You couldn't get the fact out of your head as you stepped outside the hospital. With quivering hands, you opened the taxi's door. Looking at your condition, the driver ran to the opposite side of the street and bought you a water bottle. "You should go home miss." the driver suggested. "Beverly Hills Apartments please". The driver nodded and drove you home.

Maybe you should tell the police. It was not your job to go after the killer. Of course it would be one of the biggest news article for your company but this, its not worth it. Just then your phone rang. All of that tension and weird feeling in your chest was replaced by a sense of comfort. It was Tom.

"Hey babe! dinner's ready, when are you coming home?" he asked in his cheerful voice. You chuckled and said, "I started right now. Is my kitchen all right?" you mocked. "Uh..sort of. I'll help you clean though" he replied like a child caught doing something wrong. It was comforting to have him in your life. Amidst all of this, he was the exact person you needed. "Love you honey" you said unexpectedly. He could sense your uneasiness and knew your line of work. It can be terrifying sometimes. "Love you too..Hey, I am right here." he said immediately putting a smile on your face.

You met him three years ago. How boring can news conferences be? it was something you knew very well. But it was a little bit tolerable when a hot shot investigating officer suddenly made his way to you. Tom and you immediately clicked. As if you were meant to be. One date led to another and suddenly he started picking you up from your work almost every single day. You remembered he had proposed on your cruise date which had you in complete awe. How could you say no to such a perfect man. His beautiful eyes which were a perfect peek to your universe, his warm embrace and how he fit in your life perfectly made it so much easier. He made it easier.

The sudden nostalgia calmed your nerves and you took a deep breath in. Within no time you were home. You leaped out of the taxi, paid the man and ran to your apartment. As you were going to ring the bell, Tom opened the door and picked you up in his arms. Both of you giggled as he kissed you passionately. With your fingers curling in his long wet hair and his arms coiling your waist, you could melt under his effect and you did.

"Tada!! Fish N chips" Tom declared in his voice that he called his disney voice. You chuckled at his endearing self. Both of you couldn't spend enough time with each other with all these murders. He too was tensed but never showed it in front of you. The least you could do was to help him out. You watched your favorite drama as the both of you ate your dinner.

After the chocolate ice-cream, he got up to get the wet wipe to wipe your face which was covered in chocolate. You were gone out cold because of the tiring day. He picked up the plates and noticed you had run out of kitchen soap. "Back in a few" he wrote on a post it and pasted it on the fridge. He wore his black overcoat and decided to forego his phone and left.

"Tom? babe?" you woke up around five minutes and searched the house. Suddenly the post it note grabbed your attention. You chuckled when you saw it and you knew a lot of unwanted things were gonna be purchased. Who could help it, its Walmart after all.

You saw his phone and found his headphones on the table. He would sit on his chair for hours and listen to his music but he never shared them with you. So you grabbed the opportunity and plugged in his headphones.

"19-21-19-1-14 8-9-12-12" the first song read. Then you realized it was a recording. "Mr Hiddleston sings?" you scoffed as you pressed the play button.

"Ahhh" a woman screamed and with that you immediately grabbed the headphones and threw them. "Oh God" you whined as you rubbed your ears. You played all the five recordings and all of them were similar. Screams. Then it hit you. The numbers were different and were too wrong to be dates. WHAT IF?

"19,S,21,U,19,S,1,A,14,N 8,H,9,I,12,L,12,L" you wrote on a piece of paper. "Susan hill?" you gasped. All the other four recordings added up to the all the other four victims. You sat there staring at the paper.

"It took you long enough" Tom spoke from behind you. You flinched as walked away from him. "Did you?" you asked. "The screams, oh my soul was cleansed" he said as he put his hand on his chest. Tears were rolling down your cheeks as you looked at his face. He was in content, in peace. "Why did you kill them? What had they done to you?" you enquired.

"THEY LAUGHED!!" he yelled. Your eyes widened as you looked at him. It wasn't your Tom, it was someone else.

He was possessed.

"They fucking laughed when I was being experimented on. I cried for help but they were too busy laughing. Fucking bitches" he scoffed. "You know when I made cuts on their skin how peaceful it felt. Slowly, deeply I dragged my knives on their skins and watching them slowly dying because of the pain. So good. They were the ones who cried and screamed and I was the one who laughed." He was a maniac explaining his masterplan. Little did he know everything he said, you were recording it all.

"You think you can run away with it?" you mocked trying to make him spill out. "How will they know Y/N? I am the chief investigating officer." he ran the tip of his fingers on your cheeks. But you didn't waver, he was a demon. "All this time I have been trying to erase all the evidence" he spoke as he turned his back on you.

"But you?" he turned and walked towards you. He bought his face closer to your neck and kissed your neck. If it were any other day, your eyes would slowly close themselves as he would press you against the surface. But today there was nothing but tears. "You are my favorite. I can't leave any witnesses. But don't worry, your screams will live in my recordings. You know how much I love making you scream now don't you my love?" He laughed sheepishly.

THUD THUD. The bang on the door grabbed his attention. He looked at you made a sign with a finger in his lips. Was this the man you loved? Who was he? You thought as you looked at him slowly unlocking the door.

"Ahh LEAVE ME GET OFF" he yelled in surprised as the police officers pinned him on the floor. Slowly you got your phone in front of him which you were hiding behind you and showed him the 911 number. The officers dragged him away but his hooded eyes would not leave your soul.

Two days later, while clearing his room. You found a notebook with all the five victim's name on it which was struck of with a red marker and also five knives covered in dried blood. "Why?" you whimpered as tears made their way down your cheeks. Your company had printed one of the biggest hit ever and were at the top. You were promoted and were appreciated by everyone but at what cost? You were scarred for life.

Back in the North House, Mrs Hill was sitting on her chair as the receptionist were cleaning her room. "Oh no" Mrs Hill exclaimed. "What is it Nana?" enquired Ms. Dean. "Y/N call her!! NOW"

Something was going to happen.

At the prison cell, all the officers were in havoc as one of the security guard was found dead in Tom's prison cell. Hysterical laughs and water droplets echoed through the hallway as Y/N was written on the wall and was struck of by the dead security guards' blood.

You were sleeping when Ms. Dean called you. "Hello" you spoke in your grumpy voice, the sleeping pills were slowly kicking in. "T-TOM!" her line was cut because of the heavy rain. Just then you got a message that Tom had escaped.

"What? where did he go?" you murmured to yourself and then you heard it. The hysterical laughter and the sound of the recording button being pushed.

"I am right here my love" he said.

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A/N: Hey guys, here is my first Tom Hiddleston fic. For the those of you who don't know me personally I am a contemporary dancer and this fiction I had seen being performed on the stage. I loved the suspense and I loved writing it even more. Writing this was a challenge and it was a wonderful experience and I hope you all like this as well.😘

Tom Hiddleston is such a versatile actor and just fits in any character which is the main reason why I love him so much. It was very easy for me to visualize his demeanor in this character and I tried my level best converting it into words. Let me know what you think about this fic.😃

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My requests are open. So ahead and check my masterlist and send me your plots.

Love yourself...you are worth it❣❣

[wh6res]

taeyong — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. when your soulmate gets a wound or cut, flowers bloom on the same spot in your body.

synopsis. you’re desperate to meet your soulmate. maybe you can put a stop to the flowers stubbornly blooming on your wrists.

warnings. tread cautiously. mentions of mental illness (depression, attempted suicide), swearing, manipulation, implied self-harm, dubious content, forced relationship, unconsensual touching near the end, ty pulling the sadboi agenda

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life.

by the time you’re graduating high school, you’re used to the sorry glances people sent your way. 

for someone so young, you have more flowers blooming on your skin than any adult. a few small pieces of it blooming in the corner of your cheek, near the jawline. a few of them on your thighs. 

but the most concerning piece is the one on your wrists that are fully covered by the flowers, your skin nowhere to be seen with all the lilies of the valley tainting your skin. 

yet the worse has got to be the summer before senior year. you had been halfway done with the college entrance examination for a local university. your parents said the pain you felt the first time will turn into a mild itch whenever the flowers form on your skin. 

it started small, absentmindedly scratching at something on your neck. initially, you thought it was the heat, your sweat, and the fabric of your clothes irritating the sensitive skin. but when you walked up to the proctor to turn in your exam, you knew that apologetic stare like nothing else—but his eyes had flickered down to your neck. 

when your friends blew up your phone, asking where you are to celebrate, you lied and headed straight back home, head ducked, collars upturned, hiding the lilies of the valley wrapped around your throat like some insignia. 

a year later, you end up studying soulmate theory in university. they say it’s a useless course as there can be no scientific explanation to soulmates. you like thinking you chose the course because of sheer interest but really, you’re just finding an explanation, some external reason that probably bore no results but you trudged forward anyway. 

you’re restless in the pursuit of finding him—or her, you couldn’t care less. the hurt you feel weighs heavy in your heart each time you feel them blooming on your wrist, mind plagued with worry. 

your roommate interrupts your deep thinking as she practically throws herself onto your bed. “i have an idea!” she cheers, determined. “why not part-time in the school clinic? that way if people come in, you can compare their cuts to your flowers.”

“now, you just might be onto something there.”

the hunt for your soulmate still wasn’t easy despite working in the university’s clinic and it only got worse each day. your schedule is killing you, you’re slightly getting behind in some subjects, and you practically live in the library. 

contrary to popular opinions, soulmate theory can be a fucking bitch to study about. what with learning psychology, astrology, and botany all together. it was interesting how all these things can be factors in how people are paired to become soulmates. interesting, but rather complicated in a sense, too. 

they say psychology and astrology dealt with two people’s compatibility. while botany, the meanings of the flowers themselves, was theorized to predict how the soulmate connection will affect their relationship—ultimately, roses were a really, really good sign. 

you have been busy messing up your hair, utterly frustrated and irate—astronomy’s messing with your head and you can’t go a minute without scratching your wrists as the flowers bloomed after the other. 

then something unexpected happened. 

a lanky guy dressed in an all-black ensemble walked into the clinic. well, it was more of a being carried between two guys by the arms rather than walked in. everything about his clothes looked way too big to fit his delicate frame and it hardly looked like it was for fashion style purposes. his skin hugged his body to the bone, eyes sunken, and he looked so frail that a tiny shove would’ve sent him sprawled on the floor. 

his name was taeyong and he lied on the bed unconscious, with handkerchiefs wrapped around his wrists like bandages—courtesy of his friends, who looked deathly worried for the fate of their poor friend. if he had lost any more blood, he would’ve died. you had never seen the clinic in such chaos, people running around, anxious. your leg muscles were sore from going back and forth from the nurse’s side to the cabinets storing all the medical supplies she needed. 

it had been a whirlwind, and after your superior had patched and properly bandaged his cuts, you were left to look after him in the meantime as nurse jung tried contacting his guardian. 

his friends—who you learned were named yuta and jaehyun, were snoozing outside on the bench across the hall, parallel with the clinic’s double-glass door, as they waited for their friend to wake up. 

depression. suicidal. taeyong has been like that for his whole life, jaehyun stated earlier. you can only shoot a sorry look at the unconscious boy lying on the hospital bed. 

it had already been dark outside when you came in to switch out his bandages for new ones—only to realize that his cut is exactly where you had been scratching earlier before he showed up. 

you retracted, unbelieving of what that possibly entails. along the way, you’ve pieced together that your soulmate is probably struggling through something heavy, something that weighed him down so much that it made him believe hurting himself is the only solution, what with all the flowers on your skin. 

“it’s him…” you mumble, wide eyed as you eyed the faded scars around his wrists, eerily aligned to the flowers blooming on your own. 

you didn’t want to overwhelm him, that much was sure. you didn’t want to chase him away if he gets uncomfortable. so for weeks you started leaving anonymous notes in his locker. not the sappy love letter types, just little words of encouragement that could make his day better. 

when their friend breaks out into the tiniest of smiles, yuta and jaehyun’s thankful eyes would scour around the halls. sneakily looking for you behind taeyong’s back. they understood where you’re coming from and hadn’t spoken a word of disagreement when you told them you didn’t plan to make yourself known as his soulmate yet. 

and as if the notes were not enough, you start giving him his favorite starbucks drink every now and then—on days the flowers didn’t bloom as much as it normally would. you turn up half an hour early before lectures so you can place it on the table where he usually sits with his two best friends. even if his class is on the other side of campus, you’d still go. 

but it only took three weeks of creeping around until you’re caught by your soulmate himself. 

“do you want something from me?”

you didn’t know what to say, cat got your tongue as you stood before him holding the drink. you couldn’t weasel your way out and say the drink’s yours, not when he caught you standing before his usual seat, not when you were already leaning forward to place it on his desk.

“uhm… i…” you stutter pathetically, not being able to meet the intensity of his eyes. 

“jaehyun and yuta aren’t exactly the most lowkey, especially with how much their eyes wander when i open my locker. so, do you want something from me? what are you playing at, stalker?”

the name he called you stung like a bitch but you can’t blame him for it. you knew him, he doesn’t know you. you’re giving him gifts anonymously. even if they were all from the goodness of your heart, from an outsider’s view, your actions still appeared sketchy.

“soulmate,” you correct him. 

you watch his features twist into confusion, only for it to morph into shock once he’s digested what you just said. eventually, he schools his expression back to indifference. his stoic face is so intimidating, you thought, biting your bottom lip and fidgeting on your toes. 

“what?”

“i’m your—i’m your soulmate.”

his eyes flicker downwards to peak a glance at the bouquet of flowers painted on your skin. colors as beautiful and vibrant as the day you got them, the stems of the bell-shaped flowers intricately woven into each other. for a split second, you even twist your arms a little, showing him the rock hard proof of your claim. 

ever since you found him, you’ve always contemplated for the better part of your limited free time about what his reaction will be when he finds out you two are soulmates. will he accept you? or worse case scenario, pretend you didn’t exist? the possibilities are unknown especially with someone who seems to be going through so much that the last thing they wanted is this person who thinks they’re entitled to be part of their lives because the universe made it be that way. 

not that you feel entitled… taeyong can reject you all he wants and you’ll give him the space he needs—

he’s crying. 

and not the simple, small tears slowly streaming down his face one by one type of crying, no, his tears were an onslaught. full-on sobbing as he threw himself onto you, wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders as he buried his face into your neck, words heavily muffled by your coat. 

“is it—” he hiccups. “true?”

you blink, from all the reactions you’ve gone through in your head, crying was the very last thing you expected from him—crying and hugging you like you’re the last person on earth and he’s been touch-starved until he found you. 

maybe that was the case. 

you wonder what jaehyun and yuta felt whenever taeyong ditched them to spend time with you—and that was pretty much all the time since he’s found you. he’s like a puppy, following you around wherever you go (unless he has classes) and had been neglecting his friends. whether it was intentional or not, whether his two friends were cool with it or not, you don’t know. 

you try your best to smile every time he runs up to you on the other end of the hall, spotting you coming out of your own respective classroom after lectures are done. 

he’s beaming like a child, inviting you to this cafe he wants to take you to—and pathetic ‘lil ‘ol you just can’t seem to say no to those huge expecting eyes.

but you’re not blind to the slight scowl on yuta’s face nor the razor sharp smile on jaehyun’s features. they want to hang out together, just boys, but now there’s this soulmate who’s suddenly more important than them—what happened to bros before hoes?

but they knew taeyong needed you. heck, he never once smiled like the way he did before he met you. it was like he’s become this whole new person with a child-like innocence reflecting his eyes. 

“so?” your soulmate prompts just as his two friends came over, flanking him. 

taeyong deflates the moment he sees the hesitance in your eyes. “uhm… i actually have a shift in the clinic, and nurse jung said the clinic isn’t some hang out place, so you can’t, uhh…” you trail, not wanting to finish the sentence. 

a little white lie can’t hurt anyone, right? 

taeyong shouldn’t depend on you all the time, not when he also has friends who care about his well-being and mental health just as much as you do. being soulmates didn’t mean he has to spend every waking moment with you and the faster he realizes, the better. 

when you dashed away before he could even mutter out a reply, you miss the frown on his face, his eyes never once leaving your frame until you turned the corner. 

people often favor the underdog. they have this gnawing urge in their gut to sympathize and unknowingly root for their own plot twist or happy ending. 

people look at you and your soulmate and think you have poor, suicidal and depressed and sad taeyong eating at the palm of your hand, following you around like a lonely duckling—the undeniable underdog in a coming-of-age movie, the person shoved around until some bigger, more capable person comes to their rescue (in this case you, unfortunately).

but appearances have always been deceiving. 

your little 3-week head start with getting to know your soulmate had only been on surface-level. you just wanted to help him but taeyong’s obvious attraction—can you even call it that? you’d like to think it’s more of infatuation—is off-putting for you. from standing way too close to putting an arm around you, from walking you to your lectures to walking you home, from the light headpats to having the guts to kiss your cheeks. 

it’s too much and it wasn’t as if you basked in the public display of affection. whenever you tried telling him off in the most gentlest of ways, taeyong would frown and curl in on himself, eyes glossy, darting around, and looking like a kicked puppy. 

you couldn’t leave him like that just because of some harmless skinship, right? he’s just excited and happy he’s found you. weren’t you also the first one to initiate? with all those notes and gifts you’ve given him? and now you’re backing away just because of a few touches?

“you know,” your roommate plops herself on the couch next to you, netflix movie playing as background. “you’re not obligated to fix him. you’re his soulmate, not his psychiatrist.”

you sigh, head diving into the couch pillows. “i’m not trying to fix him, i’m just…”

she raises a prodding eyebrow. 

“…i’m just trying to be there for him.”

taeyong likes to think that he wasn’t doing it on purpose. but the sense of rush and sick pleasure running up and down his spine whenever you force a smile and give in to his wishes proves otherwise. 

all his life he’s been pushed around. tasked to buy his old man beer and cigarettes and an assortment of drugs. if he turns up empty handed, guess who becomes a punching bag? and he has always been alienated throughout his school life. immature elementary kids aren’t exactly the kindest and would’ve picked on every single thing to appear cool to their friend groups. and poor little scrawny taeyong who didn’t speak and didn’t defend himself was just too easy of a target. 

“uhm… you don’t—don’t need to walk me home all the time.” do you think so low of him that you believe he doesn’t sense your fake little giggle?

“but i like walking you home,” he pouts, jutting his lips just a wee bit more for extra measure. he makes sure his eyes are as round and glossy as can be, he noticed those puppy eyes are what gets to you the most. 

he can tell by your tense shoulders, the clear hesitance in your face, that smile that looked too sweet to be real, and your averting eyes. you needn’t say anything for taeyong to figure you out. he isn’t blind to the lack of comfort you’ve developed by being with him. 

he has to think of something or else you’ll be slipping through the gaps of his fingers.

he asked you out on valentine’s day. it wasn’t the simple, forgettable act of popping out the “hey, do you want to go out on a date with me?” question while holding a bouquet of flowers. taeyong made sure you’ll never forget this certain day that he had laid his claim on you—not that it needed to be vocalized, it was his wounds that made flowers bloom on your skin. the soulmate connection should be enough.

but taeyong wanted to go the extra mile.

with the help of his friends (yuta’s popular and jaehyun can be very persuasive), he’s got people handing you lilies of the valley every ten feet until you reach the auditorium in the main building. despite it blooming on your skin you’ve never really seen them in the flesh. they’re like dew drops, bell-like flowers growing in an elegant dip from it’s main stem and appearing no bigger than your thumb.

you were awed, but skeptical.

you meet taeyong by the end of your little journey, standing on a decorated stage with a bouquet of the flowers nestled delicately in his hands. the natural sunlight bleeding through the open windows giving him such a beautiful glow that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. he had smiled and timidly gave you the flowers while asking.

“will you be my girlfriend?” 

if only you’d look close enough, that sugar coated smile contrasted greatly to the sly flickers in his eyes. he knows how your actions are dictated by the reputation you’ve built. taeyong knows you'll say yes, because if you didn't, how could you have rejected your own soulmate who has made you the light of his life? he’s been nothing but kind to you and you’ve only pushed him away! you’re a monster! you should’ve saved him!

if him alone can’t make you say yes, maybe the pressure-induced stare of the whole student body can.

and as you shivered amidst taeyong’s suffocating hug, feeling the triumphant smirk against your head and his prodding nose as he sniffed your hair, you now understood why your body bloomed this specific woodland flower. 

lilies of the valley are beautiful.

but lilies of the valley are poisonous, too.

the flowers remind you of taeyong. 

making things official has only made things worse. taeyong has promised you that after being together he won’t try hurting himself anymore and that he’s a big boy and he can attend his therapy sessions alone. but the itching in your skin is as constant as ever and you just got off the phone with the receptionist of the clinic he goes to. 

“are things alright? i haven’t seen taeyong since three weeks ago.”

if there’s one thing you absolutely hate doing with your soulmate, it’s confrontations. for the three months you’ve been together, taeyong has always, always spiraled out whenever you confront him about something. be it the mildest or the most superficial thing, what started out small will turn into a complete whirlwind and he’d be in a fit of tears by the end of it.

every single time. 

you prefer happy taeyong than sad taeyong—if you can avoid it for as long as you can, you will. but you’re at your breaking point. him lying to you about his therapy sessions is the pin that popped the little balloon of security you’ve been protecting. 

when you arrive home, he’s already there, crouched and sifting through your bookshelf. it wasn’t a surprise or anything out of the ordinary, he possesses the key to invite himself into your apartment any time. “hey, you’re home!” he immediately stands, barreling towards you. 

he encircles his arms around you protectively as he pulls you flush against his body. you feel the tip of his nose prodding against your neck, hearing him inhaling your scent like cannabis. 

you learned to ignore it, this habit of his—but just because you do doesn’t make you any less uncomfortable than the first time he did it.

you don’t bother hugging him back. 

you were too pissed off to keep up with pretenses. 

“the clinic called, said you weren’t attending your sessions. why were you lying to me?” 

when pushed into a corner, you were never one to beat around the bush.

“i don’t like going alone, i told you that, remember?” he quickly replied, shoving you away. “i wouldn’t have to lie to you if you would just come with me for my sessions, don’t you think? you’re blowing this out of proportion when it’s all your fault.”

you wanted to pull at your hair. scratch that, you wanted to pull at his hair—no, not in that kind of way. 

“how the fuck—” you stop. taeyong hates it when you curse. cursing will do you more harm than good. you inhale through your nostrils, willing yourself to calm down. “how is this my fault? i told you i have to run errands for professor kim!”

“then quit working there! they’re not even paying you, it’s just for extra credit! which you wouldn’t even fucking need if you weren’t flunking astronomy so bad.” taeyong must’ve seen your features twisting into that of betrayal. he was there when you were crying your eyes out because you failed the exam. he knew the subject was taking such a big toll on you. 

how could he…

“don’t fucking look at me like that, kitten. you know it’s the truth.”

what is the point of this, some form of payback he’s subjecting you to? just because you didn’t come with him to his sessions? six months in this relationship and you already feel so drained, how would the universe expect you to keep up for a whole fucking lifetime together with him?

“why…” you choke, the tears building up in your eyes as your voice breaks. “so what do you want me to do, then?” you ask, because you genuinely don’t know. 

does he want you to choose? is that it? you didn’t want to lose the credits, but you didn’t want to lose this relationship either, no matter how much you’re drowning in the toxicity of it all. 

because this is your soulmate. 

certainly, the universe wouldn’t destine you to each other if it would only bring forth chaos, right? taeyong has mentioned time and time again that this is his first relationship. of course, he’s depending on you to show him the ropes. 

but it seems he isn’t really a big fan of how you do things. 

“quit.”

you shake your head defeatedly. “you know i can’t. i’d have to take the whole subject again next semester and—”

“i said quit, dollface.” the finality in his tone renders you speechless. “then fucking take the subject again next semester! i don’t care. that’s your consequence for neglecting your major. why the fuck do i have to suffer, too, if my soulmate is such a failure?”

his words cut deep, deeper than flesh, cutting through bone as your knees the urge to buckle and collapse before him. “taeyong, please—”

“honestly, i don’t even know what you’re doing with that professor. you always brush it off whenever i ask you!” the glare he sends could kill. “is this… is this why you’re so adamant about not quitting? then again… what kind of professor is willing to pass his students just by interning for him? i can’t believe i’m only realizing this now!”

this is bad. this is very, very bad. 

“whatever you’re thinking about is not true! trust me—”

but as if he can’t hear you, he dawdles on, trying to connect the dots when there is absolutely nothing to connect. 

“you suck dick for grades? how could you do this to me? how can you do that to yourself?” 

you don’t understand exactly why he’s crying again so you don’t say anything. not because his fierce accusations were right but because even if you try hard to convince him that nothing is going on with your astronomy professor, he’d still cry and whine and paint you to be the bad guy. 

“what… what use do i have in this world if my soulmate thinks i’m not enough? and i lost you to some guy who smelled like prunes of all people!” you would have laughed if the situation had been different, but taeyong was dead serious. “i’m useless. i’ve been useless with my family, my friends, and now you. i can never do anything right, can i? i can never make anyone stay. i can’t even make you stay!”

and like a switch that has been flicked off, your conflicted emotions vanish in thin air. gone are every trickle of anger, confusion, and irritation you felt as he makes a beeline to the coffee table, smashing the little ornamental fish bowl and pointing a shard against his dainty wrists. 

“no!” you tackle him to the ground, groaning when you feel the shard dig into your side yet you made no effort to get off of him. blindly, you reach, twisting his wrist to drop the piece of glass. “you promised!” you wail, clutching the collars of his shirt as you pull him close to you. “stop, stop hurting yourself.”

you feel him shaking his head, his own onslaught of tears staining your shirt as the negativity he’s been bottling pours over like a tsunami, dragging you under the currents with him. “no, no, no…” you splutter, snot running disgustingly down your nostrils. “it’s not true, none of that is true. you’re my love, my moonlight, i’d never betray you for anyone or anything!”

“but—but your professor, the internship—”

“i’ll quit. i’ll take the subject again next semester, it’s not a big deal, okay? don’t worry, i’m here. i’m so sorry!”

it was all too easy.

the thing with noble people like you is the foolish sense of responsibility lying underneath your skin, it’s gravitational pull so strong that you don’t bother to think before you speak, to think before you act, to think before you make promises, because what’s important isn’t yourself, it’s the person lying meek and helpless before you. 

quit, you say? taeyong wants something more.

the evil lying inside pandora’s box can never remain dormant, not when meddlesome people like you who think with a one-track mind pull the lid off its hinges, preaching how every evil can have their own redemption.

a hand finds purchase around your waist as an eerie blissful smile stretches on his lips, eyes clouded over. “really? i’m your moonlight?”

“yes—”

“would you prove it to me?”

he doesn’t make room for your hesitance to settle, he lunges, hands wrapping around your face to pull you into a kiss. it wasn’t like all the other kisses you’ve shared with him, no, this one had a dark, underlying purpose. his hands digging into your open wound to make it bleed, tongue sliding into your mouth the moment you gasped in pain.

your hands press on his chest, trying to push him away but taeyong’s thoughts are running wild. you blush in sheer humiliation when he lets out an almost pornographic moan. with a sinking realization, you’ve become hyper aware of something poking at your abdomen.

no, not yet. you weren’t ready yet!

“taeyong, wait—i’m not—”

“you said you love me, didn’t you?”

[my-emotional-self]

Toxic Love Chapter 11

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing.  But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings:  18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy), mentions of suicide, flashbacks of suicide, nightmares

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story!  I apologize in advance!

The minute you stepped out of the convenience store, you popped open the cap of the vodka bottle that was tucked away in the brown paper bag.  The warm liquid burned your throat as you took a large gulp.  Tucking the bottle under your arm, you took out a cigarette and lit it.  Putting the cancer stick in-between your lips, you took a deep drag.  The smoke too burned your throat.  The nicotine and alcohol felt heavenly.

Not knowing where to go, only knowing that you didn’t want to go back to the tower yet, you began walking. The streets weren’t completely deserted, but it was no afternoon day.  The sky was black but the streets were filled with lights from cars, apartments and stores.  

Alternating between drags of your cigarette and shots of your vodka, you kept on walking.  As you rounded the corner you saw a group of four men hanging out against the side of a building.  Walking closer, you noticed that there was music playing from a speaker at their feet.  The men began to break dance.  In your slightly inebriated state, you watched them in awe.  Your hips swayed with the music as you hollered and cheered them on.  

“Wow!  That was great guys!” you enthused.  

The four men turned to look at you.  Their eyes roaming up and down your body.  “Now what’s a pretty little thing like you doing out here all alone?” one of them asked.  He had a smirk on his lips and hunger in his eyes.  

You shrugged, taking a drag of your cigarette.  “Oh you know. Just getting into some trouble.”

The men laughed, liking your answer.  But then you soon saw their eyes grow wide at something they were staring at behind you. Confused, you turned around, cigarette hanging from your lip as you saw one seriously fucking angry soulmate strutting down the sidewalk towards you.  

Steve’s eyes were ablaze with fury.  His fingers ripped out the cigarette from your lips before grabbing the bottle of liquor in your hand and smashing it on the ground.  

“Hey!  I paid for that you know!” you yelled at him.  

“Do you really think I fucking care?” he growled back at you, his face nearly pressing against yours.

You tried your best to shove him away but he was too quick.  His hands gripped your wrists and you winced in pain from the fresh cuts. But Steve didn’t notice you wince. Oh no.  He was too far gone to give a shit right now.  Steve picked you up and threw you over his shoulder.  

“Hey man, put her down!” you heard one of the men say, although it was difficult as your blood was rushing to your head.  

Steve ignored the man and started walking.  Using your feet, you tried to kick Steve.  But it was no use.  So instead, you did the next best thing you could think of.  Using your fists, you began punching him in the back.  The man was built like steal.  

A startled gasp left your lips as you felt Steve land a hard smack to your ass.  “What the fuck Steve!”

He did it again.  And three more times before he finally spoke. “You brought this on yourself Y/N. You broke the damn rules,” he growled.

You gave up.  No point in even trying to wriggle yourself out of his death grip.  With each step he took you became more sober at the reality of things.  

In what felt like eternity, but you knew was only mere minutes, you were back at the tower.  

 He threw you down on the bed and you bounced.  Steve gripped your ankles and slid you so that your ass was nearly hanging off the bed. His eyes were dark.  And it wasn’t because of the darkness of the room. No.  The curtains were open and the high moon lit up the room.  Steve looked downright terrifying but he wasn’t as scary as John used to look.  No, John would hurt you and abuse you for laughs, for his own sinister pleasure. The way Steve looked, it was downright carnal and it made you so aroused.  

In what seemed like a blink of an eye, Steve had managed to get your shoes off your feet as his hands began tearing at your zipper and buttons.  His fingers slipped into the waist band of your jeans and underwear, yanking them roughly down and off your legs.  You could only hope that he left your top on.  The last thing you wanted to do was explain the cuts on your forearm and wrist.  And to your utter relief, he did.    

There you were, naked at the lower half, unsure of what to do.  Most of those would probably try and cover their lower half, try and hide in some way but you couldn’t.  You were frozen.  Your eyes were trained on Steve’s as he shoved down his own black sweats.  His large and very thick cock sprang free, hitting him in the stomach.

Your eyes grew wide as you stared at him.  At his cock. ‘That isn’t going to fit’ you thought to yourself.  John was big, but Steve.  Fuck Steve was huge.  

Steve lunged towards you, his left hand grasping your neck and shoving you back onto the bed.  “Is this what you want?” he growled through clenched teeth.  “Is this the kind of punishment you need to start behaving yourself?”

“Yes,” you answered breathily, his hand tight on your throat but you could still breathe.

He was standing between your parted legs, a quiet moan escaping your lips as you felt his fingers began to trail upwards on your inner exposed thigh.  Your stomach clenched in anticipation.  He was close.  So close to where you wanted him.   No. Needed him.  Fuck you desperately needed him to touch you right now.  

“You want me to be rough with you?  To punish you because you’ve been a naughty girl?”

His words shot straight to your aching core.  Your mind reeling as to why you did want this.  When John was this way with you, you were terrified.  In so much fear.  But with Steve, you didn’t feel like that.  Because you knew deep down, he wasn’t going truly hurt you.  He wouldn’t do that.

Steve’s lips claimed yours just as his fingers made contact with your wet folds.  A lust filled groan escaped his mouth at how soft and warm you felt on his fingers.  If was an even possible to do, you spread your legs wider for him.  

His grip on your throat tightened as his tongue invaded your mouth.  It was all too much and at the same time not enough at all.  His thick finger began to probe at your entrance. He was teasing you.  That fucker. You tried to buck your hips into him but he wasn’t having it.  He removed his finger from you and instead, shoved it into your mouth, making you taste yourself.  

You swirled your tongue around his finger and you felt Steve grow harder against your thigh.  Was that even possible at this point?

He retracted his finger and it went straight to your entrance, plunging in deep.  “AAhhhh,” you cried out at the intrusion.  Sure, you had used toys during your single life. But nothing compared to the real deal.

Steve’s finger was relentless inside of you, working in and out as his teeth bite at the delicate skin of your neck.  He pumped a second finger into you and you were so close to the edge.  Just a little bit more.  

“You hear that?  Do you hear how wet you are?” Steve husked into your ear.  Of course you could hear it.  How could you not?  The squelching of your wetness was the only thing you could hear over the moans of your pleasure.  

His palm was hitting your clit in just the right way; his fingers curling expertly inside of you. “Yes.  Yes…yes!” you cried out on the brink of your orgasm.  But it never came.  Because yet again, Steve removed his fingers from you.  

A desperate cry of frustration left your lips as you locked eyes with Steve.  He removed his hand from your throat and you didn’t realize until then how tight his grip was.  He pulled himself off of you and began to stroke himself.  Your legs were still spread open wide and Steve managed to pull you even farther off the bed.  

One hand was under your hip, holding you from falling off the bed, while his other lined himself at your entrance.  His cock plunged into you with no mercy and you cried out.  It was a bit painful as you never experienced anything as big as him. And he was relentless.  Steve didn’t give you any time to adjust to him as his hips furiously pounded into you.  

His hands gripped your hips, keeping you from falling off the bed and it was the most glorious pain you had ever experienced.  You couldn’t wait to see the bruises come morning.  

Your fingers gripped the bedding as breathy moans escaped your mouth.  The pleasure mixed with the pain was euphoric.  

Steve pulled your hips to him with every thrust, impaling you and you could only hope the man didn’t split you in half.  He was harsh and punishing and you reveled in it.  

Fire began to pool low in your belly and you felt your inner walls begin to tighten.  You were right there.  Right on the cusp of your high and Steve knew it too.  The bastard stilled his movements, stopping completely and you whimpered.  

His breathing was ragged and you just wanted to cum.  That’s all you wanted.  Not even thinking, your own fingers trailed to your clit and began moving in a circular motion.  Steve wasn’t having any of that.  He slapped your hand away and his grip was back at your throat.  

“What did I tell you huh?”

“But Steve,” you whined, eyes opening to find him glaring at you.  

“You don’t deserve to cum.”

And that’s how it was back. Back and forth for what felt like hours. Steve pumping furiously into you. His finger sometimes teasing your clit. Only to either fully still his motion, of pull all the way out of you each time you were on the brink.  

It was torture.  Pure and utter agony.  

“Please,” you cried out, needing a release.  It had been so long.  Not just tonight, but in general.  Especially after your hot and heavy make-out sessions with both Steve and Bucky only for it to lead nowhere.  

“Please what?” Steve demanded as started hammering into you again.  

Tears began to roll down your cheeks in frustration.  “I…,” you tried to say but nothing would come out.  

“Use your words Y/N,” Steve’s rough voice broke through the ringing in your ears.  “I need to hear you say it.  Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll let you cum.”

“Steve please.  I…I need to cum.  I need to cum so bad,” you begged him, your head shaking back and forth. You wouldn’t be able to do it again. You would break if he didn’t let you cum.  

The pad of his thumb found your clit and he pushed down, beginning to rub in circles.  You were afraid this was a trick.  He was just going to mess with you again.  But you began to feel your walls tighten and Steve continued his movements.  He didn’t stop.  It was happening.  He was going to let you cum this time.  

It was nearly instantaneous. The coil within you snapped and you were screaming Steve’s name as your orgasm shattered throughout you making your body nearly convulse.  It was the most intense feeling you had ever experienced and it made you crave more.  

As you came down from your fierce high, you could feel Steve’s movements begin to falter.  His grip on your hips tightened to the extreme before he stilled, filling his seed inside of you.  

It was all too much. Between your fight with Steve, the crying and cuts on your arm and the craziest best sex of your life, you closed your eyes and passed out.  But not before Steve’s named tumbled out of your mouth in a whisper once more.  

[winchesterxxi]

Ooo what about Poe Dameron x wife reader sharing the same brain? They do a lot of things together too and promised to get re-married after the war idk. I think it would be so funny 🤣 and probably annoy Finn because of it!

From The Force Awakens to Rise Of Skywalker 🤔

THE FORCE AWAKENS

You were both captains of the Resistance’s Air Force

Commanded two attacks against the First Order

You on the Dreadnought

And him on the Star Destroyer

Except that you got captured after your ship fighter crashed without Poe ever knowing

The stormtroopers cover your head with a black sac and drag you for what felt like an eternity

Until you feel your back hit an inclined surface and your members being cuffed to your sides

Suddenly they rip the sac out of your head and

Surprise

Your husband is in the exact same position, mirroring you

“Poe?”

“Y/N?”

You yell at the same time, leaning forward

None of you knew the other had been captured and suddenly you’re about to be tortured together

Once Kylo Ren enters the room none of you says a word

A single look shared being enough for the both of you to know no one is saying a thing

What hurt the most isn’t necessarily the physical plain being inflicted upon you but rather the sight of the other suffering

Once Kylo leaves the both of you alone

Poe in clearly worst shape than you

Blood dripping down his face

He forces a smile

“Tell you what, we get out of this one alive, we renew our vows.”

Eventually, this helmetless trooper enters the room as the both of you tried to regain your breaths, claiming to want to rescue you

“Why?!” You both say in unison

Finn looks confused between the both of you wondering who to answer to

Eventually you jump on the X-Wing that gets you out of the ship

It crashes on Jakku and Finn is the only one that gets out 

The renewal of the vows would have to wait

When you both return commanding the X-Wings on Takodana you attack from the south while he comes from the north

delivering a perfectly synchronized attack on the First Order

when you land and find Poe, he is quick to hug the both of you

“You kept his jacket!” you point out to him

Finn goes to take it off but both you and poe say at the same time

“No!”

Poe then proceeds to say that it looks better on him

and after he walks away you whisper to Finn

“He needed a new jacket; thank you.”

THE LAST JEDI

*During the dreadnought attack*

“Go for the left wing, under the propeller!” He shouts over the intercom

“Way ahead of you, babe.”

Because just as you finished talking the whole left wing of the ship explodes

“Atta Girl!” he cheers

*Back on The Radus*

“We need to jump to lightspeed!” he says while running to your side

He places a hand on the small of your back as he looks over to the galactic navigator you were adjusting

“Except we can’t do that because we only have enough resources for one jump and if we do so, they’ll just track us again and be without fuel.”

“What should we do?” Finn asks from across the table

You look up at Poe for a few seconds with a determinate look and you both nod before looking at Commander Leia

“Permission to jump on an X-Wing?” You ask in unison

“Permission granted.” Both of you bow your heads in appreciation before taking off running to the X-Wings

Finn is left dumbstruck behind looking back and forth between the both of you running off and Leia like ??????

Just as you’re both about to reach the X-Wings, you are sent flying backwards as you both crash into the ground

*FASTFORWARD TO HOLDO’S EVACUATION PLAN*

Poe turns his head to you after Holdo announces her strategy and you widen your eyes in a threatening manner´almost as if being able to see the gears in his head turning

“No.” you point a finger at him

“She’s trying to get us all killed.”

“No she’s not!”

He looks over to thh side and you follow his glance until it lands on Finn

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Way ahead of you, honey.” he quotes you before speeding off

Of course he ends up getting stunned

OF COURSE

You are seating next to him when he wakes up

He throws a fit but you explain to him the plan

“But who is-”

“Holdo.”

“What is she-”

“Jump to lightspeed.”

“And what about -”

“Crait.”

“Wh-”

“Abandoned Resistance base.”

He takes a breather looking down into your eyes as his face softens, smiling

“Nah there is no way, NO WAY.” 

Finn strides over to the both of you a pissed look on his face

“There is absolutely nO WAY YOU KNEW WHAT HE WANTED TO ASK EVERY SINGLE TIME.”

Down in Crait you both board onto Speeders and deliver a perfectly synchronous attack until the retreat 

And of course the both of you lead the rest of the people out of the cave to meet Rey

THE RISE OF SKYWALKER

*on Kijimi*

It’s you, Poe and Finn

Poe has a blaster pointed to his head by this armoured woman

You are quick to point your own to the armored woman behind him

“You pull that trigger, you’re next, honey.”

“She used a pet name, she’s serious.” Poe informs the woman

“We’re trying to find Babu Frik.” Finn tries to explain the situation

“He only works with the crew. That’s not you anymore.”

“What does she mean crew?” Finn asks

“He was a spice runner.” you tell him without moving an inch

“I was a spice runner.” Poe said at the same time

“You were a spice runner?” Finn asks stunned

“Yes, and I was a bounty hunter.” you explain

“YOU WERE A BOUNTY HUNTER?”

“YOU WERE A STORMTROOPER!!!” you both yell in unison.

“You’re girlfriend really is something.” Zorii observes

“Wife.” This time is the three of you that correct her at the same time

Finn wants to face palm himself

because he has been spending way too much time with the both of you and it is starting to show

*On the Star Destroyer”

Standing between Poe and Finn, Chewie next to him after having been captured 

“Bounty hunter and spice runner, seriously?” Finn asks the both of you

“Honestly, how do you think we met?” you ask him in return

“Like a couple does????”

“Have you seen where we are??” Poe asks him

BAM

All the troopers are dead and Hux admits to being the spy

At the exact same Poe whisper yells an “I KNEW IT” upon spotting Hux

You shake your head “You did not know it.”

*Fast forward to when Leia dies and the both of you are standing on each side of her deathbed*

Agreeing to honor her legacy and carry the Resistance to victory and peace

*First Order defeated, during the celebrations among the rest of the Resistance*

After pulling you in for a kiss, he whispers against your lips

“I didn’t forget.”

Poe gets on one knee in front of you

As Finn, Rey, Chewie and BB watch right next to the both of you

“Sweetheart, I love you so much and I know I’m a pain in the ass, so the chances of you saying yes for a second time are really slim and I’m aware of that but...”

He pulls his necklace over his head, holding his mother’s ring

“Will you do me the honor of showing you how much I adore you by getting remarried?”

Tears are flowing

Hard

But you’re laughing???

You pull him up to his feet and throw your arms around him, kissing his lips deeply

Once you pull away, both smiling

The two of you look over at Finn and he, as if on cue, goes

“Yes I’ll officiate it.”

And you all laugh at how quickly he got what you were about to ask

[dabiboy]

Idk if I requested this but hawks x reader where the reader and hawks both grew up in abuse and raised by the commision. ( there backstory ) and while there out on a mission hawks almost gets killed but the reader dwoop in and took the blow instead and that’s when he realises he’s been in love with her all this time idk it’s confusing ( however you want to do but the reader doesn’t die ) fluff ending please angst to fluff ;-; <333

Hi there! Well, the idea I had mixed these two requests, hope you don’t mind 😅

If anyone likes reading with music, I wrote this while listening this songs in the following order ‘Lost boy-Ruth B, When it's All Over by Raign, Call your name by Attack on Titan, Take Me Back to the Night We Met by Lord Huron and Hold on by Chord Overstreet.’ idk if it fits the timing, but yeah 😅

Always

''Shit, careful'' Hawks hissed when the cold compress made contact with his bruised cheekbone.

''If you don't stop moving is hard, you know'' You said, putting some pressure to reduce the pain.

''Fair point'' He remained silence for a while before a nostalgic smile appeared on his face ''This brings me memories'' you knew what he was talking about, and couldn't help but smile in the same way.

''Yeah, me too...''

Years before

Thunders and rain were the scenario for that cold night at the commission, but that didn't stop the training nor the classes during the day. However, the only thing you were waiting for was dinner time, the only moment of the day where you could hang out with all the different kids, but that special one. The kid with red wings, Hawks. The two of you became friends due to sad circumstances, when he had asked you where did you come from. Without even knowing him, he gave you the confidence you never felt, his eyes paying attention to you, nothing else, ready to listen and provide any help. You told him everything about you, about the abusive household, the bad treats and all that comes with it. His wings flopped, his eyebrows went up and his eyes open when he heard your story, and with some sad emotion he had claimed that he went through the same. ''We're not that different! I just have wings'' ''But your wings are really cool'' ''Do you think so?'' And from that conversation on, your dinners were not lonely anymore, nor your lunches or breakfast. Hawks was always there, to tell a joke, to support you, to tell you about his day and ask you about yours. 

That is why you felt weird when he wasn't at the dining room as every night waiting for you. The table the two of you shared was empty, and he was nowhere to be seen. You walked with your tray among the other students, asking them if they had seen Hawks, but none of them did. However, a girl walked towards you and say some words that made you whimper. ''I heard he was training really hard today'' was he ok? After thanking the girl you left the tray on a random empty table, grabbing only the chocolate bar they gave you as a trait on Friday nights. 

Walking through the installations was always confusing, too many hallways and doors that were similar, but you knew the way to his room. Hawks' room. You were being careful, though. Girls' and boys' dorms were separated, and there was no way you could get to his dorm past nine pm. But there you were, walking fast and cautiously until you get to the known door. One knock and no answer. Two and the same happened.

''Hawks? It's me, I... I didn't see you at dinner so I thought...'' 

The door opened on his own, a feather, of course. He was getting better at using them, but that had a cost, a cost you comprehend when you saw the twelve year old boy sitting with legs crossed on his bed. He was lucky he had a dorm for his own, but he didn't seem happy about it. Actually, it was the first time you saw him sad. He was the one that comforted you, the one that made you smile. But now his light was faded. You approached him slowly, sitting next to him. You could notice his raspy knees and cheekbones, forehead, arms. Everywere. He was trying hard to control his sob, holding his Endeavor plushie with one hand against his chest. You were the only one who knew about it, he didn't want other kids to bother him for liking the flame hero. 

''Hawks?'' You whispered ''What happened?'' 

''Training was hard today'' He answered simply, looking down at the mattress.

''I... Can see'' You tried to laugh at your bad joke ''Do they... Hurt?'' The bruises were too evident as to avoid them. ''They should give you something for the pain!''

''They said that it should heal soon, so... Guess I'll be fine'' He hugged his plushie a bit more.

''You need to be ok if you're gonna be a great hero!'' You said standing up, looking through the cabinets in his dorm for a faids kit, and when you found it you sat back next to him. 

''What are you doing?'' He asked, his curious bird-like expression was on his face again. 

''I will heal you. Or try to'' All of your attention was on looking the things you needed.

You used the cold gel compress to put it on his bruised cheekbone, telling him to hold it as you look for something to clean the dry blood off his arms and knees. He looked at you with a confused expression, no one took care of him like that before. Not even mentions his parents. At the commission, the other kids always praised his wings, and they wanted to be friends with him because of that reason, but you were different. There you were, trying your best at healing him, making lame jokes to make him laugh and to cheer him up, telling him he was going to be a great person. 

Once you were done, you sat comfortably again and smiled at him

''Oh, I almost forgot. I got you this!'' You took the chocolate candy out of your pocket ''It melted a bit, but I hope it cheers you up'' His eyes winded in surprise again, and then he leaned in to hug you tight. His arms caging your shoulders. You couldn't help but blush a bit, a boy was hugging you, what else could you do? 

''Thanks, really. You're my best friend'' Hawks said, his eyes still a bit glossy but now they looked a bit happier ''Do you want the half?'' He asked you, opening the candy and splitting it in two. 

The winged kid made your life at the commission a hundred times better.

Present day.

''I can't believe that you're a grown up man and I still have you patch you up'' You joked, leaving the cold compress on his desk. After years of training together, the commission decided that you worked well together, that's how you ended up in his agency, working next to him. 

''And I will never be able to thank you enough'' He said with a teasing smile. 

''Yeah yeah, whatever'' You said, getting away from the chair he was sitting ''Are you gonna go to the date with Hanao?'' Feelings were hard to comprehend, and you didn't know why you felt jealous every time he went on dates with random girls. No, you knew it. You just couldn't confess even to yourself that you were in love with that man.

''Uh, I think so. She's hot but talks too much'' He frowned his nose when he whined. 

''I talk a lot too'' You raised your eyebrows.

''Yeah, but your diffe-'' The door opening dramatically interrupted him.

''Guys! Nomus are attacking the city again, we need back up!'' The man yelled.

The two of you adopted a serious posture immediately, Hawks gave you the look that asked if you were ready, and knowing him as you did you simply nodded.

He held you in his arms so he could fly you near the scene where the chaos was happening, and when was near the floor he let you down, knowing you're fighting area was the ground. 

Hawks went flying so he could rescue some civilians with his feathers and fight nomus with the bigger wings. Things were getting messy, the creatures were destroying everything, and none of you noticed the spilled gasoline of a broken car and the fire nearby. 

You were finishing with a nomu when you saw Hawks again, and thanked internally when you saw he was alright. After a while, his wings got smaller because of the number of feathers used, but he was still trying to help a civilian that was stuck inside her car. 

Everything was happening so fast yet so slow, you could see everything that was happening in slow motion, thinking fast about what your next move should be. Help the scared kid? A cop was running to him. Fight with the white nomu? No, three heroes were fighting against it. And then you saw it.  A big one was walking straight to Hawks, but he was too busy helping the man in the car he didn't notice it. The distance was getting narrower, so you ran, ran as fast as you could towards him. 

''Hawks!'' You could scream.

But it was too late. 

Everything happened within the same second. The gasoline that was spilled made contact with the fire, creating a deafening explosion, the fire blinding everyone's sight at the same time the nomu used his outrageous arm to hit you and send you flying, body crashing against pure concrete. Hawks tried to cover him at the moment of the explosion, but your voice made him turn around and see what was happening. He saw the exact moment when the nomu got rid of you, his senses panicking when he saw you crashing against the hard concrete wall, and then to the floor. 

Another hero started fighting the nomu that attacked you, and other rescue heroes took care of the man trapped. 

Everything was in slow motion again, this time for Hawks. He couldn't fly, he wasn't fast. He ran towards your moveless body, but his steps felt heavier by each second, he was praying you were ok, he wanted to see you getting up, moving. But that didn't happen. You were there, face on the floor, passed out. 

''Y/n!'' He desperately called your name, turning you around to lay you on his lap ''come on kid, wake up!'' Hawks called, but you didn't hear his words. ''Hey, hey look at me. I need you to look at me for fuck's sake!'' Tears were forming in his eyes when he saw you were not responding. Blood was running down a corner of your mouth and your forehead, dust was all over and your eyes still closed. 

He couldn't lose you. Not you. As he called your name, all the memories attacked him. Those nights at the commission when you cured his wounds, when you shared your food, the times he got flustered when you kissed his cheek for the first time, or when he got jealous when a kid two years older asked you out. Or when you were in your twenties and he saw you with a good looking civilian and felt jealous again. The laughs you shared, the sad times. Damn, he even remembered the first conversation you had, when you told him everything about your shitty past and he had offered you his Endeavor plushie for comfort. The nights you spent together till dawn or get caught by someone at the comission. How he felt weird when he went on dates with random girls, He didn't want to be with any of them. He wanted to be with you. Just you. 

And the realization came like a storm. First the lighting in the middle of the night, everything that looked dark and confusing was clear. And then the loud sound of a thunder. It was love. Everything that he felt those years, every weird emotion. He was in love with you, and didn't get the chance to tell you. 

He was on his knees, putting pressure on your wounds as he looked the chaos around him, begging for a doctor, or a fast hero that could take you to the hospital. For the first time ever, he felt helpless. However, a voice took him out his thoughts. A light of hope. 

''Wing hero Hawks! I'm Ingenium from the UA, class 1-A. I can take them to the nearest hospital right now!'' 

He looked at the hero in a white armor, a student? He didn't have another option. He let the young hero take you in his arms. The engines on his calves lighted up and he went running. Damn he was fast, it could be a chance to save you. 

When All Might arrived at the scene, things got calmer. And he used whatever means he had to get to the hospital in which the hero had taken you. 

People looked at Hawks with curious eyes, he was looking desperate, looking for you everywhere and asking about you. He was about to lose his head when the same student arrived, this time no mask on. 

''Hi, this is Tenya Ida from class 1-A, UA student'' He introduced himself again, this time properly ''They take them to surgery and said she should be out in an hour or a bit more'' 

Hawks thanked the kid, and gave an effortless pat on his shoulder beofre moving to the waiting room. One hour pass, then two, and then three. What the hell was taking so long? He was resting his elbows on his thighs and head on his hands. No one gave him information about you, and he could feel the tears dampening his cheeks. He loved you, he had loved you all along and now you might be gone forever. He wanted to hug you, kiss you, never let you go. 

Hours seemed infinite, but then an exhausted doctor appeared in front of him. 'They're sedated' she said, explaining to him that you had lost a lot of blood, but that they were able to stop the bleeding from the different cuts, and organs. 

Hawks felt like walking the long hallways of the commission when he sneaked to your room when you were kids, nervous, wanting to see you. But now? Now he was a man, and he knew that he loved you and craved to see you. To know you were ok. He got to the door, and doubted whether to enter or not, but he took a deep breath and did it.

You were laying on the bed, a machine helping you breathe and lots of needles and cables on your arm. Keigo's chest tightened at the image of you wounded, and even worse. You were in that state for saving him, and he was hating himself because of it.

Quietly, he sat down as he held your hand. His chin was trembling he was trying too hard not to cry. Using his free hand, he caressed your cheek and pulled a strand of your hair away from your face. 

''Hey,'' he whispered ''I need you to wake up, ok? I... Need you here, with me. I'm nothing if I don't have you here'' His voice was broken, and he didn't even notice when the tears were running down his eyes again ''I swear I'll stop stealing your lunch, and I won't whistle or chirp on mornings because I know you get stressed'' Keigo let out a sad laugh ''There's so much I need to tell you, so please.'' He caressed your head again ''I won't go on dates with random girls anymore because I... Just want to be with you'' A sob left his lips, and he rested his forearms and head on the bed next to you ''I can even shave my so-called beard if you want to, but please... Wake up. Come back to me. Please, don't leave me'' His whisper was drowned in tears, Keigo kept sobbing by your side as the memories kept replaying on his head ''I love you, I fucking love you'' He finally let his feelings out among hurtful tears. He wanted nothing more than you to be ok. 

Suddenly, his heart stopped. He felt the weight of a hand on his head, playing with his hair. He got up slowly, looking at you with red puffy eyes, but full of hope. 

''y/n?'' He asked, heart beating fast.

''I like when you whistle in the morning'' You said slowly opening your eyes ''your stubble is cute''  a weak smile was on your lips, and he couldn't believe that your first words after almost dying were about him ''And I always pack up double lunch because I know you eat mine. That's why I get fried chicken every day'' At that day, he couldn't control the amount of tears escaping his eyes. 

''I...'' A sob ''y/n I-'' you interrupted him with your weak raspy voice.

''I know, I heard you'' You nodded, feeling your eyes getting watery too ''I love you too, Kei'' You caressed his cheek. ''I've been in love with you since I was like... Fifteen'' you rolled your eyes and laughed weakly, making him laugh in the same way too.

''Sorry I didn't notice sooner'' He brushed your hair with his hand, and then whipped some tears, but the kee falling '' Don't you dare scare me like that again'' He chuckled lowly.

''Sorry'' You said ''Can I get a kiss for saving your ass once again?'' He couldn't help but laugh again, loving to see you with a good mood. 

He leaned forward, his lips on yours were delicate, soft, and tender. Just his lips against yours, a bit salty because of the tears but none of you cared. You whined a bit because of the lack of air and the pain caused because the cut on your lower lip. 

''Shit, sorry'' He pulled away, and then got closer again to kiss your forehead for long seconds as his hand was still on top of your head holding your hair. ''I love you, so damn much'' 

He sat on the chair next to the bed again, resting his head on his forearms one more time. You used the little amount of strength you had to play with his hair, scratching his scalp with soft fingers. 

''I love you too, bird boy'' Tiredness was taking over you again ''This time you will have to patch me up'' You joked

''Always. I'll always will'' He sobbed one more time, closing his eyes. Loving your hand on his hair, and your voice. God, he could never be tired of listening to you. ''Try to get some sleep, ok?'' He said moving his head up again. 

''Will you be here when I wake up?'' You asked. The same question you did when as kids, when Hawks lent you his bed so you could sleep there as he took care of your sleep from the other bed, not wanting you to get any nightmares. 

''Yes, I'm not leaving you. I will be here'' He smiled at you, and after leaving another kiss on your forehead he rested his head on his forearms on the tiny empty space on the bed by your side.

He was not letting the love of his life alone. Not that night, or never.  

[aitarose]

FROZEN MEMORIES (T. OIKAWA) pairing: oikawa tooru x fem!reader

synopsis: tooru always spoke a million words a minute, a million words describing his everlasting love for y/n—but in reality, vows can’t always be kept, and photographs are all that stand forever.

word count: 7.0k

genre: fluff, angst, getting together, established relationship, time skip

warnings: major character death, slight ghost au

notes: lina and i were talking about planes one time on facetime and now this exists. :) writing about weddings is fun and i hope that this makes people sad—but like the good kind of sad <3 

↳ DIRECTORY

It was a simple thing, the diamond that rested on her finger.

Small, delicate, and nothing like the extravagant stigma of Oikawa Tooru. Nothing like his vibrance and charisma or the tenacity racing through his veins while on the court. There were no sprinkles of the unnecessary, no remnants of borrowed money.

Just simplicity and minimalism. A bare show of his love for her, a showcase that would be blind to the wandering eye, it was so small. The ring was all of the things that had little, if any, relation to his personality.

Throughout the timeline of them knowing one another, Y/N always knew he’d propose. Whether that was when they were in their mid thirties, twenties, or even while in high school—their love was that strong.

And she knew him best. She knew that he wouldn’t present a jewel the size of a bumblebee, or one with gems surrounding the entirety of the band. In her mind, the only option would be the bare band with a single jewel laying atop its center.

The same band that had belonged to his grandmother, mother, and now her.

It wasn’t a statement piece or trophy, but rather a reminder that their relationship didn’t have to be complicated or flashy. That the ring had surpassed generations of instability and trouble, and at the end of the day, all that mattered was their love—their love that was truly unbreakable.

Which was why it was all the more special to Y/N, why she cherished it more than any other belonging. It reminded her of him.

When he’d gotten down on one knee, professed his dreams of sharing the rest of his life by her side, the enjoyment of announcing that she would be the wife of a professional athlete never crossed her mind. 

Y/N didn’t view Oikawa as a celebrity or idol. She didn’t consider him to be on another level or above her status for any reason. In no world was he too good for her, as they were perfect for each other.

There was just something about him, a force that pulled her towards him no matter how hard she tried to resist. He was undoubtedly the other half of her spirit, the person she was always meant to connect with.

Her heart swelled whenever he was around, just knowing that he was in the same building, waiting for her at the end of the flower-filled aisle had tears dripping down her rose-colored cheeks.

She could imagine the smile on his face, the one she’d been waiting to see for over a year now. The smile that she saw when she closed her eyes, looked into her reflection, passed a shining pond.

Ambition was her most dominant personality trait, always feeling the need to reach for the sky and set new goals—but once she’d kissed his lips, she knew that he was the only goal that mattered.

And the two of them had been preparing for this day for what felt like forever, waiting in anticipation for the moment they’d be pronounced as one. However, their wishes had been interrupted by his newly honored position on the Argentinian team.

They had a month, barely thirty days to pack up his life, everything he could possibly need for an unknown amount of time, and find peace with the fact that they wouldn’t be together for every second like they’d become accustomed to.

Driving him to the airport had to be one of the most tear-filled days of Y/N’s life, other than today of course—but today’s tears were much different in every sense and form. 

She could remember the exact look on his face as they’d left the car, carried his luggage to the terminal, and said their goodbyes. Goodbyes that were, of course, temporary as no distance could ever break the bond they had.

The photo laying between Y/N’s fingers had captured that moment perfectly.

Somber looks on both of their faces, yearning for the other even though they were a mere distance away, a distance that was growing with every second the clock counted down.

Laughing lightly, maneuvering her position so her reminiscent tears wouldn’t stain the slightly marred photograph—she pushed the memory aside, instead choosing to recall an earlier one. A happier one.

A memory that was encased within the maple box that Oikawa had gifted her at the terminal. A present that he’d been putting together for nearly a decade, throughout the entirety of their early relationship.

So, while the airplane had taken him thousands of miles away, over an entire ocean and away from her—Y/N had a way to see his face. His beautiful and loving face for the times where he couldn’t answer the phone or pick up a call.

A photo box. One filled with polaroids and snapshots of moments, cherished memories of their lives that had led up to today’s date. It was her most prized possession, the story of her and Oikawa. 

The story of their love.

“Are you alright?” Y/N giggled, pushing the loose strands of hair away from Oikawa’s face. The wind was rapid, carrying them throughout the nearly empty park, and to their destination.

It was a small picnic blanket, one that he’d set up an hour earlier, laying in the center of the field, underneath one of the blossoming cherry trees. Albeit, with the roaring currents, their date spot had flown a few feet into the air.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, ‘Kawa.” She repeated, amused at the sight of his mortified face. There was never a time where Oikawa Tooru didn’t strive for perfection, and in the moment where he felt it mattered most, everything had gone wrong.

He’d been preparing to ask Y/N out for weeks. Always admiring her from afar, searching for her in the stands, smiling at her cheers and words of encouragement. Calling her a crush was beyond his feelings, she was simply his.

So he felt that their first date had to be perfect. It had to leave her hooked, left at the corner of a page, addicted and invested to turn the next—to turn every page in the chapters of their story.

Their story, that was just beginning.

“I’m fantastic, Y/N-chan!” A large, teeth baring smile grew on his lips, eyes wide with anxiety radiating out of them. He didn’t think he’d ever felt his heart beat so fast, the artery on the verge of jumping out of his chest.

“Really?” She asked with her brows raised, noticing how the blood had rushed out of his face, leaving behind a stone-cold canvas of skin. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost—no. You look like you are a ghost.”

“It’s okay. I’m nervous, too.” Y/N confessed, taking his hands in hers, her warmth overshadowing the clamminess of his palms—her touch being his salvation. “This is my first time being asked out, you know. I mean, we are only first years.”

Which was entirely true. They’d each moved from their respective middle schools to Aoba Johsai, not knowing of the other’s existence until Oikawa had accidentally tripped over her school bag while on the run from his fangirls. 

From that moment on, he’d been completely and utterly enamored by her. 

Enamored in the way that his cheeks would flush bright red at any moment of embarrassment if Y/N was around. Bright red, just as they were now, with her heart in his grasp, begging to be loved.

As he opened his mouth to speak, scripting his genuine apology for the chaos that was today, something flew right by his right eye. Something small, yellow and black—something that truly pushed him over the edge.

Oikawa ran in a dead sprint, circling the blanket, darting between trees as the innocent bumblebee chased him with glee. His shrieks were ear-piercing, inducing hysterical laughing fits from Y/N, tears brimming the corners of her eyes.

The sternness of his posture had finally relaxed, his placid expression long gone and replaced with one of the over-dramatics and the unnecessary. She felt as though the blood rushing through her veins had settled, content with the familiarity of the Oikawa in front of her.

“Protect me, Y/N-chan!” He cried out, his hands holding her shoulders with a death-grip, using her body as a shield from the barely visible bee. It buzzed around their heads in circles, causing him to duck and cover each time it got too close to his ears.

Y/N was practically out of breath, her voice hoarse from the amount of laughter leaving her throat. “Oikawa! Are you even allergic to bees?” She wondered out loud, trying to find any acceptable reason other than insanity to his reaction.

“I don’t know!” He exclaimed, taking Y/N’s hand and pulling her away from their stray picnic blanket, and towards the more dense sector of trees. “Three percent of people have a reaction, and there’s no way I’m not in the top percentage—I mean look at me!”

His skin was stained red, nearing the color of blood from how much adrenaline he’d been using. The brown in his pupils dark, almost black, large, and staring straight into Y/N’s.

Heavy breathing came from the both of them, energy on the rocks, exhausted after their marathon throughout the park. It was a strange moment, one with no words yet their feelings were communicative. She didn’t need to hear what he was thinking, as she felt the exact same. 

Oikawa began to lean in, his gaze focused on Y/N—his focus staying on her and only her, just as it would always be. Closing her eyes, preparing herself for her very first kiss with the boy that seemed unreachable, Y/N was left with no love on her lips.

Nothing but the sound of a shot snapping from a polaroid camera, and the feeling of a smile pressed against her cheek.

As her vision opened, Y/N’s jaw dropped, smacking his arm with the picnic bag that had been thrown over her shoulder. Sure, she’d noticed him packing the camera earlier, but hadn’t expected him to actually use it. 

“Are you serious?” She scoffed, amusement laced in her tone. Of course he’d pull something like that. He’d do anything to make the moment more memorable. “I can’t believe you, Oikawa.”

He grinned a shit-eating grin, forehead touching hers. If Y/N hadn’t known better, she would’ve walked out, left him behind after such a sporadic and awful first date—but she actually enjoyed the chaos. She enjoyed being with the real him.

“Well, you better believe it, Y/N-chan.” His lips were so close, a mere centimeter away. Only a centimeter between them and, still, the distance seemed too far. “And when I do kiss you, I expect to be called by my real name.”

Oikawa pulled away, saying a final wish before stalking off towards the remnants of their picnic, leaving Y/N with nothing but withdrawal and their single photograph. She rolled her eyes at him, his words racing through her head as she fell in love with the frozen memory.

Call me Tooru.

Y/N’s heart swelled as her senses picked up on the harsh sound of sneakers squeaking against the gym floor. It was a noise that would likely drive a normal person away, so wretched and foul, absolute agony for the ears—but she loved it.

She loved it since along with that sound, came him—came Oikawa.

“You two really can’t stay away from each other, can you?” Mattsun groaned, his attention brought to the entrance, bemused by the sight of Y/N and used to her inability to be without his friend for longer than two hours.

Despite the roll of his eyes, there was a light smile on Mattsun’s face. A smile that had been replicated throughout the entirety of the team, grins awaiting their captain to notice the company of his favorite cheerleader. 

In the beginning of their relationship, it’d taken the boys a few weeks turned months to warm up to Y/N. It was no secret that Oikawa was a bit of a player, never settling on one girl, always getting distracted with the next best thing—but even they could see that this time, it was different.

After all, they’d lasted for a little over two years now—and in those two years of total bliss, the whole team had picked up on the new positives to the setter’s daily attitude.

Makki noticed the way Oikawa’s eyes lit up around her, how his laugh was ten times louder whenever she was by his side. Mattsun never failed to comment on the stupid beams he’d wear, and how much effort he’d put into his appearance when he was only getting ready for a five minute video call. 

And Iwaizumi was the one who’d seen it all. He’d endured the tireless hours in which his best friend would talk about how nervous he was to see her in the hallways or how fast his heart would beat whenever she’d hand him a pen or compliment his gameplay. 

He’d been the first person to know exactly what had happened after Oikawa asked her on their first date, in which he’d been trampled by fangirls and forced to steal Y/N away into an empty janitor’s closet to get just a minute of privacy. His friend later bouncing with joy on their walk back home, babbling on and on about her accepting his confession.

The very second the setter had said his goodbye, dropped Y/N off at her home, and had one last laugh about the bee incident; Iwaizumi’s phone had blown up with text messages and voicemails—all filled with the lovestruck adoration that Oikawa held for his new flame. The flame that he hoped would burn forever.

It was safe to say that his friends loved her, that they loved them together and the safety net that was their relationship. Y/N brought the dreamer down to earth, while Oikawa taught her how to reach the sky—showed her the importance of keeping her eyes on the clouds.

Iwaizumi shook his head, letting out a low laugh as his best friend caught sight of his girlfriend and took off running in her direction, tackling her to the ground, and completely forgetting about the abandoned volleyball that he’d been juggling altogether. 

PDA was not an issue for Oikawa, never even crossing his mind as he peppered light kisses in circles around Y/N’s face. The girl was bright red beneath him, loudly giggling, and essentially forgetting where she was for a moment—distracted by him, the only person that could ever maintain her attention.

“Pack it up, Loser-kawa.” Makki called out, hands cupping his lips in an attempt to shout out over the sounds of Y/N’s squeals. Her head snapped over to the team at the sound of his calls, cheeks flushing a further scarlet in embarrassment amidst their eye contact.

Oikawa, on the other hand, showed no signs of stopping—completely ignoring the complaints of his teammates, throwing Y/N over his shoulder, and carrying her with ease towards their peers.

“Oh, come on guys.” He smirked as he set his girlfriend down and proceeded to sling an arm around her frame, snuggling her closer to his chest. “There’s no need to be jealous, I’m sure she’ll cheer for you, too—albeit, it won’t ever be as loud as she cheers for me.”

Countless volleyballs came flying in their direction, all aimed for the so-called Great King—narrowly missing Y/N’s body and hitting their target that was Oikawa’s face.

“Quit wasting our time, Shitty-kawa!” Mattsun shot another ball, smacking his captain straight in the forehead. “You two have been in each other’s business all day, save some time for us!”

“Just take a picture, it’ll last longer!”

Y/N laughed, finding the suggestion hilarious—not noticing how her boyfriend’s face lit up with delight. How he reached for the duffel bag beside the door containing their beloved polaroid camera.

“You suggested it, Mattsun!” He tossed the device, landing it perfectly in his friend’s open hands. The brown hair boy stared at the offering, not exactly sure what he’d been expecting from Oikawa of all people. “Now you’ve got to follow through!”

The setter led Y/N towards the net, placing her in front of him with a large smile on his face. His palms ghosted her’s, so close to touching with no intentions of doing so.

As the camera was about to click, he moved, a large groan escaping his throat. “Hold on!” Oikawa shouted, waving his hands in the air manically, sprinting to his practice bag. “Almost forgot something!”

The white material of his Seijoh jacket reflected underneath the fluorescent lights. He held it up with glee, returning to Y/N’s side and placing it over her shoulders with care. 

Nearly prepared for the photoshoot, he felt that one thing was missing. One thing that would truly commemorate the oh-so-momentous event that was photo-worthy.

“Oi, Iwa-chan!” The ace glared at his best friend, knowing exactly what he was asking for. With a roll of his eyes, Iwaizumi found himself between the couple, a frown on his face as they held up bunny ears above his head.

Sticking his tongue out, Oikawa was blinded by the piercing flash of the camera. “Say cheese!” He called out, pinching Iwaizumi’s cheek with his free hand and cowering as he shot him a murderous glance in return.

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her expression being light and carefree in the frozen moment—lost amidst her love for her boyfriend and the adoration she held for their best friend. 

Iwaizumi was always there for them—and there’d never be a time in which he wasn’t. Through hardships and breathless arguments, he was there. One phone call away to listen to any tangent or complaint from either of the two.

She knew that he was reliable, and she hoped that he’d stick by their side. She hoped that he’d be the one to walk her down that flower-filled aisle in the future. That he’d be the person to give her off to the man of her dreams.

And, little did she know, her wish would come true.

Soft hums and silent promises wafted throughout Oikawa Tooru’s bedroom. The gentle snores of his girlfriend rising and falling against his chest, pressed atop his heartbeat, filling his love for her as if his heart was a pitcher. 

It’d been a long day, one full of the tiresome stress of tournaments. Although he hated to admit it, he’d spent a majority of the past hours crying—his tears staining Y/N’s sweater, dampening the cotton fabric.

Losing to Karasuno had never even crossed his mind. Seijoh was the best of the best, he was the best of the best, that was what he’d told himself. That was what’d motivated him to continue to pursue his dreams of beating Ushiwaka for so many years. 

But they’d lost. His unstoppable team had lost to complete amateurs, infants in all senses of strategy and gameplay when compared to that of his own team’s. It was truly unbelievable—so unbelievable that Oikawa had only come to terms with it minutes ago.

He’d unknowingly played his last high school game. His final game as captain, the leader of his teammates, the face that every admirer associated with the name “Aoba Johsai”—and that was heartbreaking.

Mindlessly, his fingers graced Y/N’s back, tracing positions and numbers on repeat. It was as if his brain was still stuck on the court, glued to the placement he’d fallen in after that last whistle had blown.

“I love you.” He whispered, admiring her peaceful expression. There’d never be a time in which Oikawa wouldn’t think she was the most beautiful sight in the world. Nothing compared to her, not even the thrill of feeling the ball in his hands.

“You’re perfect, amazing, gorgeous.” An ongoing stream of compliments poured from his lips, all of them always sitting at the tip of his tongue, waiting to be released. His brown eyes bored into her closed lids, waiting for them to flutter open, knowing that she was eavesdropping on his one-sided conversation.

“I can’t wait to marry you one day.”

Her eye popped open, her iris meeting his as she fought off a smirk. Oikawa laughed at her audacity, her listening in on his professions of love whilst pretending to be asleep—a very Y/N thing to do.

“Was that a proposal I heard, Tooru?” She teased, a cheshire smile growing on her face. Though she was joking, there was a part of her that felt ecstatic. Excited for the future, their future. “Aren’t we a little young for that?”

Oikawa ignored her humorous tone, choosing to take her words seriously. Sincerity overtook his features, determination shining in his eyes. “No, that wasn’t a proposal. Not yet at least.”

“But it was a promise.” He rolled over, arms stretched out onto the mattress as he held his weight above his flushed girlfriend. “I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.”

“I promise.”

Y/N reached upwards, caressing his cheek with care, pulling him down towards her frame. As she connected their lips, love flooded from their hearts. Pure love that they were so lucky to have found in each other.

Their kiss was passionate, fluid and desperate as they clung to one another in an attempt to get even closer than they already were. Oikawa’s hair brushed against her forehead, tickling her nerves amidst the act.

He cupped her cheeks in his hands, pressing further as her swollen lips were chapped and yearning for more. It was as if he was the water to her drought, the sun to her flowers, the missing half of her soul—he was everything she ever needed, everything she could ever want.

“I love you, Tooru.” Y/N was breathless, heaving gusts of air as she composed herself between his arms. Her skin was shaded pink, hair a mess, and eyes wide in adoration for her boyfriend. “I’ll love you forever.”

A scoff fell from his lips whilst he relaxed his muscles, laying down on her body, his head against her chest as he felt her short breaths rise and fall. “Don’t get your head too high in the clouds, beautiful.”

“We can focus on forever later.” With his heartbeat slowing, sleep on his mind, Oikawa wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist. “Let’s just think about now—right now, and how amazing I just made you feel.”

“They don’t call me the Great King for nothing!”

With a groan, Y/N pushed her boyfriend off of her, choosing to sleep on her side instead of listening to his boasting. It was a common occurrence, one that she was used to and knew how to handle—feigned disinterest was always her favorite route to take.

Oikawa pouted at the emptiness he now faced without being in her arms. He wanted attention, and the only way to get her attention was to distract her from his terrible humor in the only way he knew how.

Various pokes and prods scattered across Y/N’s backside, the relentless actions being from the needy narcissist she was sharing a blanket with. Pulling the covers over her head, she peeked out from underneath, coming face-to-face with the bright flash of his camera.

“Smile for the camera, beautiful.”

The terminal was bustling with people, luggage rolling across the stone floors and towards their rightful places. Color was void on the walls, simple tones of grey and blue plastered opposite to the towering window panes.

Reunions between young children and their mothers, spouses who’d just arrived home from business trips, and pilots seeing their coworkers for the first time in days occurred in spurts—smiles of joy expressed on their faces.

And in contrast to that joy, was Y/N and her smile of sadness. 

Though she’d been expecting for this day for weeks, she knew that all the preparation in the world would never be enough to suffice the need that she had for him. The need that she had for Oikawa.

He’d been offered a position on San Juan’s professional team, his dream position as a setter for the big leagues, which meant that the move was inevitable. It meant that he’d be thousands of miles away from the love of his life for an unprecedented period of time.

The conversation hadn’t been easy, having to determine if they should carry on with their wedding plans or say their uncertain goodbyes. Countless tears had been shed, tears that had ultimately decided to part—tears that were still dripping down Y/N’s chin.

Her lip quivered, watching as Oikawa stopped dead in his tracks, staring up at the screen that flashed his flight number. He let go of the handle he’d been holding, the suitcase nearly falling over before Iwaizumi had a chance to balance it. 

Turning to face his fiancée, waterworks flooded his vision, blurring her features into a beautiful mess. A beautiful mess of rosy cheeks and teary eyes, an oil painting of agony that only he could decipher. 

“I’ll be thinking of you every day.” He said, holding her gaze as she found herself sobbing in his arms. “From the minute I step through those gates to the time I score my first point—I’ll be thinking of you. You’re all that my mind’s ever thought about, anyways.”

Oikawa cradled her head in his hands, peppering butterfly kisses against her nose, memorizing how naturally gorgeous she looked even when she was at her absolute worst. Nothing could change his view on her, the view that she was flawed perfection—his perfectly flawed perfection.

“I love you so much, Tooru.” Y/N cried, noting the little details of his face. How his irises shone gold in reflection to the setting sun. How unseen freckles kissed his skin in all the right places. How his heart was so big, so full of adoration for their relationship. “I know I say it every day, but you were my first love—”

“Well, you were my only love—and you’re always going to be my only love.” 

A pained laugh escaped her mouth as his confession deemed true. It felt like they were going their separate ways, breaking their bond although the both of them knew that this was temporary. That they’d be saying their vows on the very day he’d return.

Her hands cupped his cheeks, wiping away the stray drops that had fallen from his tear ducts. Oikawa grimaced with a tight lipped smile, bringing his own palms up and resting them over hers, feeling the cool metal of her engagement ring.

“This rock had better stay on your finger.” He commanded with a chuckle, trying his best to cement the softness of her skin against his callouses to memory. “Anyone who even thinks to hit on my girl is going to feel the wrath of Oikawa Tooru!”

“It doesn’t matter how many miles are between us,” he continued, surging forward as he captured her lips in his, saying his next few words between shows of love. “You’re my heart, and mine only.”

His kisses were gentle, soft and scarce, in great contrast to the usual tenacity and passion that he held. All the things he’d ever needed to say had been spoken, the only ones left being the promises he’d commit to at the altar. 

With the bright flash of a camera, Oikawa found himself frozen. He stared in awe at Y/N, into her devilish eyes that had finally managed to surprise him in his own game. The power of the moment was in her court, the mementos created by the push of her finger. 

“Just in case I forget.” She whispered, her forehead resting against his. Her nose scrunched in distaste for their soon-to-be goodbye, their soon to be separation. “Even though I’d never forget you, Tooru.”

“I’ll be here—loving you until the second you’re back.”

Oikawa nodded, pressing one last kiss to the top of her head, before pulling away. He took his luggage from Iwaizumi, on the verge of bursting into tears again at the sight of his sorrow gaze. 

The two boys hugged for as long as they possibly could, Oikawa’s hands gripping Iwa’s jacket, to which he responded with a slap on this back with some good natured insults. They had no shame, no concerns about their masculinity or manliness as they held each other in sadness.

Y/N had never seen them so low, always picturing their game faces mixed with determination—a stark difference to the helplessness they expressed amidst the sunsetting rays of the window panes.

“Keep her safe for me, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa requested, gesturing to the lonely girl to his left. “Don’t let her get too down on herself, okay? If I’m not there to answer a text or a phone call—you make sure you’re there for her. You make sure she’ll be alright.”

“I know she can handle herself, but she shouldn’t have to all of the time.” He grasped Iwaizumi’s shoulder, shaking it roughly with his wishes. His best friend was nodding beneath his grip, listening to each one of the setter’s asks. “Our little trio’s going to be two for a bit, not forever, but for a while.”

And with one last kiss and an offering, he was gone—lost to the sea of strangers and luggage, ripped away from his favorite people on a flight to a new country with new opportunities. Oikawa Tooru’s head was always lost in the clouds, flying high with the success of volleyball on his mind. 

But in his heart was Y/N. 

The girl that he’d wanted to marry since the minute he’d seen her laughing in the hallways. Since she’d offered to pass him some balls and cheered for him in the front section of the audience at all of his games. Ever since she’d kissed him for the first time in the back of his parents minivan. 

He lived for her, his heart beat for her—and he was itching to be back in her arms, knowing full well that it’d be months until he’d get to see her in person again. All he could hope for was that his gift would suffice her loneliness in his absence. 

That the photo box he’d been putting together for years would be enough to keep the memory of their love alive in the times when he’d be too distracted by his ambition to pay her any attention. That it’d remind her that he loved her and would climb mountains to prove it.

And he was right. The polaroids did help Y/N reminisce on all of their frozen moments, lost kisses, and happy memories that she’d be unable to maintain while he was thousands of miles away.

Thousands of miles that would disappear on the day he’d return—on the day of their wedding.

“You alright?”

Y/N jumped, dropping the box of photos in her lap at the unexpected sound of Iwaizumi’s deep voice. The polaroids fluttered to the ground, flying like kites in the wind on a sunny day, falling onto the hardwood on their final departure.

Frantically, she bent over to gather the memories, quickly snatching them up as her friend ran over to help her. The vinyl backings felt smooth in her hand, eyes glancing upwards to Iwa, who’d become stuck on a single frame.

It was one of her favorite moments of the three of them, the photo from their high school gym. The look on her and Oikawa’s faces was hysterical, them choosing to poke fun at their best friend with bunny ears and stuck out tongues.

“I still can’t believe he put all this together.” Iwaizumi wondered aloud, shaking his head in disbelief at the craftiness of his former setter. “Who knew Shitty-kawa had it in him?”

Resting her head over his shoulder, Y/N smiled, her face warming at the sight of his bright and glossy smile. She reached forward, closing his hands around the photograph. “You can have it, the picture.” 

His head snapped towards her, profusely rejecting her offer, knowing full well that that gift was meant to be hers and hers alone. “I couldn’t, really. He made this for you, I wouldn’t want to make it any less special.”

Y/N laughed, rolling her eyes whilst straightening her posture. She stood, towering over the man still kneeling on the ground and offered him a hand. “It’s okay, Hajime. I have plenty—and that memory isn’t only mine to keep.”

Taking her extension of help, he rose up, wrapping his arms around her in a large hug. The comfort that he surrounded her with was enough to bring her to tears, knowing that he’d only come in the room to tell her that it was time. That it was time for him to walk her down that flower-filled aisle. 

“You look amazing, Y/N. You really do.” Iwaizumi whispered, complimenting the dress she and her mother had selected for the momentous occasion. He raised his arm in the air, spinning her in a circle, admiring how the stunning fabric twirled around her.

She smiled, genuine gratitude filling her beam as she reflected on the comment her beloved fiancé had made about the outfit she’d been meaning to share with him. How he’d boasted about his own appearance, joking that he’d steal the show.

“Yeah, you’ll look beautiful.” He’d told her over the phone during a late night video call while she’d been rambling about choosing a dress, slowly falling asleep to the sound of his voice. “But let’s be honest, I’m impossible to outshine. Sorry, love.”

Over the past year, it’d been impossible to get his voice out of her head. Soft confessions of love, good mornings and goodnights, even arguments played on a loop, on a broken record. 

She’d missed him more than words could tell—and she knew, with how much her heart loved him, that she’d miss him every day. She’d miss him no matter how much distance was between them, whether that was thousands of miles or mere inches.

Taking notice of how her body began to shake, how Y/N’s bones were quivering with nerves and anxiety, Iwaizumi looped her arm around his. “You’ve got this.” He encouraged, knowing that she felt unprepared to present herself in front of all of their friends and family in such a way.

The look in his eyes was confident, secure with closure and acceptance for what the day was about to bring. For what the rest of their lives were about to bring to their little trio. He was ready to take the next step—and he was waiting for Y/N to do the same.

As she took a deep breath, calming her nerves into submission, she nodded gesturing to Iwaizumi to carry on, the two of them walking together out of the room and towards the crowd that awaited them.

The thick scent of camellias lay stagnant in the air, the deep red flowers surrounding the venue, strategically placed on vines and potted plants. All done by professional florists and media that had insisted that the day be perfect for a celebrity such as Oikawa.

Handing her off on her own, Iwaizumi pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her hands, wishing her luck and reassuring her that everything would turn out okay. Reassuring her that there was no need to be afraid of the future.

Her future, the new reality that was beginning at this very second. The reality that had begun at the first sighting of tears in the audience, the view of Takeru crying into his mother’s shoulder, of Makki and Mattsun silently encouraging her to go on.

“Thank you, all of you, for coming today.” Y/N began, making eye contact with each and every personality, proud of the amount of people that had shown up. Proud of the amount of people that cared enough to be there. “I know you’d all been planning on sitting in those seats since we’d announced our engagement—but really, thank you for saving the date.”

Reaching her hands out to her side, waiting to come into contact with the warmth of his palms, the loving grip that he always seemed to hold—she felt nothing but the smooth mahogany of an empty casket.

“I’m only sorry that our wedding had to become a funeral.”

She sighed, neck craned down to smooth the sparse wrinkles of her dark dress, only to look up and be welcomed by a sea of black—a sea of sorrow. An ocean that would never let her ride her final wave.

“Tooru was so excited to see all of you. He told me that every night, whether it was through a quick text message or one of our phone calls—he always talked about this day, and how lucky he was to have loved ones that cared so much.”

“He was so excited that he just couldn’t wait, he couldn’t wait the extra week and took that early flight. Took his own private jet with his crew so that he could surprise all of us, see the looks on our faces as he pulled another one of his stunts.”

A sob began to form at the tip of her tongue, a void of agony building in her stomach. Waiting to be let out in a massive scream or breakdown—but Y/N continued, fighting back her own sadness to be strong for the others. To be their rock, just as Oikawa had always been hers.

“But,” her eyes were watering, voice cracking through her next choice of words. The memory of the moment being overpowering amidst her perseverance. “There was something wrong with the engine. There was something wrong, so wrong, that—well we all know what happened.”

“His head was too lost in the clouds.”

Giving up on her composure, Y/N wrapped her arms around her shaking body, rubbing her shoulders just as he used to whenever she’d feel alone or completely broken. However, she was truly and utterly broken this time—never to be fixed by his loving grasp.

“When Hajime called me, told me what’d happened. When he told me about the phone call, and how’d he’d tried to reach me but for some stupid reason I hadn’t picked up,” Y/N gulped, breathing heavily with sorrow, “I’d never hated myself more.”

“‘Tell her I’m sorry, that I’m sorry that I kept my promise.’ That’s what Tooru had told him while the plane had been spiraling. ‘I’m sorry that I kept the promise that I’d love her ‘till the day I’d die.’”

There wasn’t a single dry face in the audience, everyone dripping with sadness, faces blue with contagious crying as Y/N made her final statement. Her final public farewell to the love of her life. The love of her life that was no more.

“But I’m going to keep my promise and live every day for him. Keep him in our lives as best I can, as often as I can until I’ve lived life long enough to be with him myself.”

A breath of relief overcame her as the audience dispersed, satisfied with her eulogy, slowly walking around the room to admire the makeshift photo boards and flowers that Oikawa’s fans and former classmates had sent. 

All alone, Y/N spun to face his casket, the casket that held nothing but a single photograph of him—there being no physical remnants to bury. It was a perfect burial for a king, her perfect king of the court. 

The burial was one that Mattsun had blessed them with, already having been in the funeral home career. There was no one else that she would’ve trusted with Oikawa, no one else that she would’ve let come near his memorial. 

As her palms ran over the varnished surface of the coffin, eyes closed in an attempt to shut out the pain. She whispered her actual promise, the one she’d told him so many times through the screens of their phones. 

“You’re my heart, Tooru—and I’d never forget my heart, no matter how far away you may be.”

And unbeknownst to her, he wasn’t far. He wasn’t far at all—as he was right beside her, his spirit always being by her side through the times she’d try to shut his memory out and pretend that he hadn’t ever existed. There wasn’t a world in which Oikawa would let her be alone to her sadness.

Watching as she cried, wishing that he could wipe away her tears, tell her how much he loves her, give her a longing kiss on the lips—all he could do was stand there and dream of the life they could’ve had. 

The life in which she’d be able to see how handsome he looked in the wedding suit he and Iwaizumi had picked out together. The life where she’d laugh and flush red at his snarky comments and cocky attitude. The life where he wasn’t buried under a trillion tons of ocean water.

But that life would never become a reality. It would never come true as he couldn’t stay with her, not even as a spirit. He needed to find his peace, come to terms with how her life would be from that day on—void of their love.

“Don’t cry, beautiful.” Oikawa cried, biting his lip to choke back his own sobs—wanting, more than anything, to brush away her tears. He took one last look at her, one last look to cement the memory of her face.

It was as if she were a photograph, his own keepsake to reminisce and recall wherever he would end up. A final gift, one being given to himself, while he accepted his inevitable fate. 

“I’d hate to miss your smile.”

© aitarose.tumblr 2021. do not copy or claim my writing, works, themes, copy and paste my words, or headers as your own

[thosewickedlovelies]

AND THEY WERE WALLMATES: Pasteles de Gloria (part 3)

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: T for mature themes (mentions of sex and violence)

Summary: Javier thanks you...appropriately, this time. Connie and Javier have a chat <3

Tags: Mention of blood. Reader starts to have Thots (same, girl)

Word count: 3,740

A/N: So their POVs in this chapter overlap a little bit...sorry if that throws anyone off, I’m still getting used to writing reader insert fics. The dessert and the Spanish are explained at the end :) Enjoy!

Masterlist

--

You hadn’t seen Javier in over a week. The first few days after that conversation had been a whirlwind of emotions- worry over whether you’d said the right things, hope that he might feel the same (plus fear that he wouldn’t), and eventually anger at his total lack of response. Until Connie told you that he and Steve had been sent on some mission.

“Nothing dangerous, but they’ll be gone for a few days. Javi must not have gotten the chance to say goodbye.” Uttered without a second’s hesitation, like it was unthinkable that Javier wouldn’t have explained himself to you if he could.

Maybe Connie knew something you didn’t.

So another several days had passed, with worry becoming the dominant theme; all your other initial feelings faded into the background as you wondered how ‘not dangerous’ DEA work could really be.

You’re settling in for another restless evening when there’s a rap on the door. Your nerves leap and jangle- you aren’t supposed to being seeing Connie again until tomorrow, so who…?

You peer through the cracked door before wrenching it open the rest of the way, your heart roaring in your ears. Javier Peña stands before you. He holds a bottle in one hand and a paper bag in the other, and looks uncharacteristically nervous. You forget you’re theoretically supposed to be upset with him as you stare at each other, wide-eyed.

He clears his throat. “Hey. Uh, sorry I disappeared on you. Boss sent me and Steve on a mission, I had to leave from work.” So Connie had been right on both accounts. He hadn’t had time to call you, and he would have if he could.

When you wait, he continues. “I thought, since I interrupted your evening the last time I was here, I could make it up to you.” He holds up the bottle, which you’re surprised to recall is indeed the same wine that you had opened the night he came to your place after reopening his wound.

You look at him in wonder, but he’s not finished. “Also, well...I can’t bake for shit, but I know somewhere that can. You ever had a pastel de gloria?”  He lifts the paper bag, cracks a small, still-nervous grin.

“I haven’t,” you confirm, an answering smile growing on your face, touched by the sweetness of his gesture and the implications it holds.

“Well, you can try them tonight, because-” his confidence apparently bolstered by your response, he holds the bottle out to you, brow quirking in request. You take it, bemused at the prospect of there still being more to his plan, and he digs something out of his back pocket with an air of presentation. “-I found the sequel to a certain movie while at a market recently. I was going to bring it to Steve and Connie’s but...now seemed like a better time to watch it.”

You almost laugh out loud as you take in the cover of the tape in his hand. It’s the sequel to that movie night travesty, all right. That Javier would do all of this...you hardly know what to say.

You hope whatever expression is on your face is saying it for you, though, as you look up at him. “Thank you, Javier. This is...amazing.” And it is, much more so than would have been necessary to thank you for helping with his leg, or to make up for his unplanned disappearance after you turned down his proposition.

He chuckles, looking down in embarrassment. “You don’t actually have to watch this shit movie if you don’t want to. That part was just a joke.” You could swear he’s blushing, the faintest tinge of color in his cheeks beneath the white hallway lights. “But you should try these pastries, because they are something else.” He offers you the bag, his body shifting sideways slightly, as if he intends to hand off his gifts and then disappear. As if his wide, guileless, puppy dog eyes and the unconscious pout to his lips weren’t begging otherwise.

Well. “Of course I want to watch this shit movie, Javi. As long as you watch it with me.” You give him a teasing grin. “It was much more fun with a spoilsport.”

Relief spills over his features, washing the tension from his shoulders and the breath from his lungs. Turning away toward the kitchen, you miss the true extent of it, leaving the door open for him as you head back inside. “Bring those to the couch, I’ll get us some plates,” you call over your shoulder.

Javier follows more slowly, collecting himself. By the time you join him in the living room, carrying, plates, wine glasses, and napkins, he’s fiddling with your VCR. You pour the wine while he sets it up, although you find yourself distracted by the shifting valleys of muscle in his back beneath his tight-fitting shirt, the bottle in your hands suspended uselessly above a glass. You curse as you almost spill.

“Everything okay?” Javi joins you on the couch, a careful, hesitant distance away.

“Of course!” You’re quick to assure him. “Now, tell me about these pastries,” you urge, eyes sparkling. He unloads them onto a plate, stacking rounded pastries into a rough pyramid, each one golden brown, sprinkled with sugar, and the size of a small fist. His voice softens as he tells you about the bakery and the older woman who runs it, who insists everyone call her ‘abuela’, even grown men and gringos like him. How he discovered it entirely by accident one day, following his nose.

“The filling is usually pasta de guayaba- guava paste- but they can also have arequipe, or cheese, or all three. She gave me a some extras, so I’m not sure which ones are which here,” he says, suddenly brusque. He gestures for you to take one first, a look on his face you can’t quite identify.

You’re definitely at risk of drooling as you pick up a pastel, Javier watching you intently. Puff pastry flakes over your plate as you take a bite.

And close your eyes in relish. A trio of flavors oozes over your tongue, each complementing the other, all of them ensconced in a sheath of sugary, flakey pastry. The creamy, neutral tang of the cheese mellowing the tart-sweet burst of fruity guava, both flavors coated in the thick, sticky-sweet burnt sugar taste of dulce de leche.

Swallowing, your eyes pop wide to look at Javier again. It’s a near-physical reaction he has to your sudden attention, an almost-flinch away from it as he awaits your verdict.

“Javier.” Your voice is serious. With slow deliberance, you lean toward him intently, reaching out to rest your hand on his forearm. You let the anticipation s t r e t c h.

“You have got to tell me how to make these.”

The breath leaves him in a rush, a huff of relief and and laughter at your dramatics. He’s hyper-aware of your hand on his skin- the casual touch reverberates through him in a way he should probably be more concerned about. It’s the first time you’ve touched him for non-medical reasons, but it heals him all the same; he feels warm, something inside him yielding in your presence.

He clears his throat. “Like I said, I can’t bake for shit. But...I can ask the abuela.” His free hand rubs at his neck, slipping beneath the collar of his shirt. The movement draws your attention, and your gaze continues lower, to the two buttons he seems to perpetually leave undone. The smooth, flushed skin beneath. Was it warm in here?

You stand abruptly. “Is it warm in here? I’ll flip the fan on. You want to press play?” You throw him a quick smile as you cross the room to the wall switch. You flip off the overhead light while you’re there, leaving just the tall floor lamp casting a bright but cozy glow.

Javi obliges, the space dimming briefly as the opening sequence begins. You plop back down on the sofa, deliberately settling slightly closer to him- friends distance away. Handing him a wine glass, you raise yours expectantly. “¡Salud!” you beam.

Despite your cheer, you feel a trickle of nervous anticipation. What shape would your relationship take with only the two of you to guide it? You’d never been alone alone together for the express purpose of just hanging out.

Javier clinks his glass with yours. “Salud,” he murmurs, his eyes crinkling upward slightly.

You order yourself to stop getting in your head. Humming around a mouthful of plum-purple wine, you set down the glass in favor of your plate, loading it with several more pastels. Blissful satisfaction fills you as a second bite confirms their perfection, and you lick sugar off your lips with a happy sigh. Beside you, Javi’s empty fingers twitch. He takes a large gulp of wine.

The movie rapidly proves to be of the same ‘quality’ as its parent. Just as quickly, you realize you didn’t need to worry about getting on with Javier. You end up having great fun at the film’s expense, frequently pausing it so Javi can explain in more detail why this or that would never happen in real life. It’s fascinating hearing him speak with such confidence, observing the minute ripples of his face as it contorts in thought. Despite his superior knowledge, he’s never condescending toward you, listening patiently to your questions and trying to answer in ways you can relate to. He sneers freely at the characters onscreen though, and you can completely picture him sitting at a one of those government conference tables, telling some poor bastard how bad his ideas are with his trademark dismissive, deadpan attitude.

There are other fascinating things about him, too. Like the way his short shirtsleeves to stretch over his arm muscles, subtle but visible, highlighted by the room’s long shadows. Like the tempting cords of his neck when he tips his head back to drink. Like more of his self-conscious glances, when he bites into a pastel and crumbs and sugar cling to his mustache. He hurriedly swipes his palm down the hairs, but you’ve caught him from the corner of your eye. You press your lips together to smother a giggle, but when he glides his tongue over his lip to catch any stray bits, your smile fades as your stomach swoops. You can sense him regarding you again as you fix your gaze on the tv. You wish you knew what was going on in his head.

Too soon the movie ends. The credits roll, but Javier shows no signs of leaving, leisurely taking out a pack of cigarettes and tapping it against his hand. “Do you mind?” he checks.

You wrinkle your nose but allow it. “As long as you do it at the window.” You stand, leaving Javi still seated, and spread your arms in a stretch, attempting to blink away some of the sleepy wine haze. “Be right back,” you tell him, taking the opportunity for a bathroom break.

After, however, before crossing the kitchen to rejoin him, you pause on the threshold of the hall. Your head tilts as you run your gaze over his unguarded stature. Javier leans against the window’s edge, his head and torso turned to exhale smoke out into the night. It doesn’t all escape immediately, gray twisting in the air around his profile, and you lose yourself in the brooding picture he paints. He believes he’s alone, but doesn’t look like he’s enjoying a peaceful smoke break- more like he’s weighed down by his thoughts, his eyes sweeping over the street without taking it in. Doesn’t he have anyone to share his burdens with?

You shuffle your feet loudly before you turn the corner, revealing your presence so he can react accordingly. As you approach, he stubs out his cigarette on the narrow sill and turns to face you, his shoulders relaxing.

“I thought of something else about that last scene,” he greets, and you’re happy to let him go on about the film, savoring the rich timbre of his voice. You talk for a little while longer, lounging by the window. He asks you more about yourself now, and you haltingly tell him about your background, how you came to arrive in Columbia. He drinks in every word, and you get the feeling he’s storing this all away, ready to reference later. As if he intends for there to be a later.

Finally it comes up. Your last interaction. “Look, I’m sorry about last time,” Javier begins. “When I, you know-” he nods jerkily in lieu of saying “tried to seduce you” out loud. “I, uh. I don’t know what I was thinking.” His gaze drops the same way it did when he was withholding how he got the cut on his leg.

You thought you had understood some of his thought process, but maybe there was more to it. “I think you do,” you disagree wryly. One shoulder lifts in a shrug. “But it’s okay, Javier. I just...didn’t want you to sleep with me just because you felt like you owed me.”

It’s a struggle to hold his gaze, yours ranging over his face and chest, searching for a reaction to what you’ve left unspoken. That you may well want him to sleep with you, but only because he actually wants to, wants you, specifically. Javier is smart, and clearly experienced with women- there’s no way he’ll miss the implication.

The longer you hold his gaze, the more clearly you see his thoughts churning, turning over everything that’s occurred between you and what it might mean, with all the analytical precision his career requires. That’s who you’ve been seeing, you realize, every time his provocative persona misses its mark with you- Agent Peña, the man who puts up a shield of derisive disdain so no one gets too close, so no one wants to. Until someone comes along who says fuck that, for whatever reasons of their own- like Steve, who demanded that Javi let him in as much as he could stand to because they’re partners, damn it, for better or for worse. Like Connie, who informed him that your well-being is important to my husband’s, so by god, you’re going to let me care about you. Like you- his neighbor and wallmate who, despite being faced with Agent Peña's rakish side, could see that there was more under the surface than just blood oozing from a knife wound.

As if realizing the window this moment is giving you, Javier shakes himself free of it, pushing off the wall. “Well, I won’t keep you up any longer,” he says gruffly. “Thanks for...this.” He gestures to the coffee table behind the couch you’re leaning on, the silent tv static jittering on the wine and pastries.

You stand too, unhurried. “Thank you, Javier. For the company, as well,” you say with sincerity.

He nods, seeming torn, perpetually caught in some internal struggle around you. Finally, he says a single word in farewell, his voice a low caress: “Vecinita.”

He starts for the door without waiting for a reply. Blinking in surprise, you spin in place. “Buenas noches, Javi,” you call, hoping your understanding reaches him.

You think it does, because he pauses for a second with his hand on the doorknob; before, with a last glance, exiting, leaving the hope kindling in your chest as the only proof it really happened.

--

Javier has a hard time focusing at work the next day. He and Steve have a lot of paperwork to get through, mostly material from their recent mission, but every time he shifts in his shitty desk chair he remembers how comfortable your couch was. How at ease you seemed sitting next to him on it. How badly he wanted to reach out to you, see if you felt as soft as you looked in that setting.

“Fuck,” he swears. The paper in his hand is the same one he’s been staring at for the past ten minutes.

Huffing, he shoves his work aside, snatches up his jacket, and heads home early. But his apartment offers even fewer distractions, so with a growl of frustration, he downs a whiskey and stalks back to the door.

Only to be stopped in his tracks by Connie, standing on his stoop with a coffee pot in hand. She looks startled by his sudden appearance, her fist still raised to knock.

“Hi, Javi. I heard you get back a little while ago, and I haven’t seen you since you and Steve returned. I thought we could catch up.” She speaks tentatively, clearly wary of his black scowl and riled energy.

“Did she send you?” he asks, eyes narrowing, jutting his chin to indicate your door.

Connie frowns in confusion. “No, I won’t be seeing her for a a day or three. She’s got an intensive-care patient at the hospital who needs around-the-clock attention.” Her own eyes narrow. “Should she have sent me? Did you do something?”

“No,” Javier retorts curtly. “Just- didn’t know if this was brought on by some of your gossip, is all.” Resigned to his interrogation, he steps back, opening the door for her.

Connie continues to glare suspiciously as she passes, but heads into his kitchen nonetheless, getting out sugar and mugs in a familiar ritual. She knew better than to bother checking the fridge for milk.

Once seated in the dining room, however, she doesn’t pry any further about you, or what he may have done, only continuing a previous line of conversation from their last chat. It helps, but as she gets caught up telling some work story, Javier’s attention drifts again.

He inhales from the cigarette between his fingers, remembering the taste of the one last night, filtering through the flavors of cherry-dark wine and sugar-encrusted pastry. He had tried to keep some figurative distance between the two of you, but you didn’t seem to want it, closing the gaps with questions, always looking so damn interested when the answers pertained to him or his life. Were you that fascinated by all your ‘friends’?

Javi doesn’t notice that Connie is scrutinizing him again, just like he hadn’t noticed that she’s been silent for the past minute.

“What’s she doing up there?” Connie asks loudly.

Javier chokes mid-drag, and a wicked smirk overtakes her face.

“What,” he croaks, trying desperately not to look guilty.

“Your neighbor,” Connie clarifies. “That’s what you’re thinking about, right?” She looks far too smug with herself.

“Hah,” Javier scoffs, trying to ignore the shivery goosebumps at someone calling you ‘his’. Buying time, he takes another long drag, letting it numb the sting from his cough.

Sometimes he wondered why he let himself get sucked into these coffee chats. They so rarely seemed to go well for him.

“Come on, Javier,” Connie coaxes. “I know there’s something between you two. Do you wanna talk about it?” A genuine offer, not just merciless teasing. She’s managed to wipe most of the mirth from her face, leaving a sympathetic expression behind.

He rubs his thumb along his mustache as he sighs a long stream of smoke from the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know what’s between us,” he finally says. “I’m not- I don’t do relationships.”

He isn’t sure he remembers how to. Nothing about his life here is suited to them- it’s intense, harsh, dangerous. Not to mention his network of CIs, who he pays for sex as well as information.

“Why not?” Connie asks simply.

A glance at her face tells Javier that it’s a serious question. He snorts. Lounging back in his chair, he raises a contemptuous eyebrow at her. “You can’t honestly tell me the DEA lifestyle is helping your marriage.”

Her face tightens, and he feels a pang of guilt. But he resolutely pushes it away- Connie knows who he is, she asked for this conversation- “My marriage isn’t up for discussion here,” she says evenly. “And besides, don’t you think that’s something for her to decide? She knows what you do, she sees you almost every day. She told me she was helping you with something- do you think she’d let herself get close to you if she was scared of your ‘lifestyle’?”

He doesn’t let it show how deeply her word affects him; but like ink dropping into water, he feels a ripple of shock. The change of color as his thoughts cloud, churn with sudden optimism. Because Connie was right, you had helped him- with a fucking secret stab wound, for christ’s sake. You’d already seen the blood and the secrets, understood that his life came with risks- and helped him without further explanation.

Javier brings the cigarette to his lips again without tasting it, unseeing gaze fixed ahead. Possible though it is that you’re not put off by the danger which hounds him, it still doesn’t mean you want to be more than friends. That was what you’d said, right? ‘Friends are a thing people have.’

But there was also what you hadn’t said last night. That- as long as it was for reasons other than feeling like he owed you- he was allowed to want to sleep with you.

Suddenly he slumps forward onto his elbows, sighing. The wrinkles on his forehead ache as he smooths his thumb over them. “I don’t know how close she wants to get,” Javi mumbles. He might be experienced at sex with women, but forming conections based on what was beneath the skin...well, not only was he rusty, but it required a frankly terrifying amount of vulnerability that he wasn’t sure he was up for.

Connie softens. “Listen, Javi, I saw the way she was looking at you during movie night. She’s interested in you, no matter how much you think she does or doesn’t know. Just- see what happens, or…ask her.” With her last words she shrugs matter-of-factly, content to drop the subject now that she’s delivered her thoughts.

His lips twist, the only begrudging acknowledgement he gives as he reflects on this. He picks up his mug and swirls the dregs of the coffee his friend had poured for him- black, like he usually takes it. He takes a sip.

For the first time, he thinks it could use a little sugar.

--

A/N: Get it, because he needs some of READER’S sugar AYOOOO...I’ll leave now lmao.

Spanish note for the less linguistically inclined: ‘Vecinita’ is the word ‘Vecina’ (Neighbor) plus the suffix ‘-ita’, which is attached to words as a way of describing them as ‘small’. So literally translated it says ‘little (feminine) neighbor’, but! This suffix is also used to say things in an affectionate way, so you could put it on the end of someone’s name (ie Pedrito <3), or on the end of another noun to indicate a nickname. (Disclaimer, I only speak Italian, but it has this same concept, so I think I did it right. Someone pls tell me if I did not). It’s used very casually, so it’s not really as deep as it sounded in Reader and Javi’s moment, but it was deep for Javi okay!!!

The dessert this chapter is named after translates to ‘Gloria pastries’, which according to Google, is a popular Columbian pastry. I have not actually ever encountered one of these personally, but I’ve had all the ingredients individually, so I cannot imagine them not being DELICIOUS all together. Here is a recipe I fully intend to try (it uses mozzarella cheese, but other sources say you can use any plain/white/farmer’s cheese). Guava paste is a really yummy, thick puree (think jam, but thick enough to stay in slab form at room temp) of guava fruit (obvs), which I’ve used in recipes before! I found it in a regular Weis market in central Pennsylvania lmao so I would guess it to be a thing you can find across the US. Arequipe is just another name for dulce de leche. I gotta get me and my sweet tooth to Columbia!!

Fic Taglist: @din-damn-djarin, @thirstworldproblemss, @remembertoreadthese

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 9 - To Beyond (Part 2)

Full list of translations here

Previous | Next

There was a huge upheaval in the Leg 2 of Flowers.

Rikudou and Bousou were in the lead. Those two schools were being furiously pursued by Manaka University, which relayed their sash in ninth place at the Tsurumi relay station. Yokohama University, which had been in second place at Tsurumi, had dropped significantly in the rankings in the opposite direction.

The lead group, which had become a three-way struggle, was in a dead heat clash of willpower and spirit. But even in the lower-ranked group, there were developments one couldn’t take their eyes off.

Jounan Bunka University, which had been in eighteenth place at the Tsurumi relay station, was running at a pace that was close to the leg record. Naturally, the schools running in front of and behind Jounan Bunka were also maintaining a high pace in order to not be overtaken or lag behind.

Musa, who had left Tsurumi at the tail end of the race, was hot on the heels of Doujidou and Jounan Bunka and on the verge of running side-by-side with them. A student staff member was standing on the roadside, holding up a placard that read “one kilometer.” Musa checked his watch; he had completed the first kilometer in two minutes and forty-eight seconds.

It would be impossible to run the entire twenty-three kilometer leg at this pace. It was obvious that the second half would be difficult, but there was no way he could improve his ranking if he faltered here. Musa overtook Teitou University and was a little behind Doujidou and Jounan Bunka. The gap between Musa and Teitou, which had been seventy meters at Tsurumi, was reduced in an instant.

The roadside was crowded with people. So this is what “a mountain of people” is, Musa thought. People holding the small flags distributed by the co-sponsoring newspapers lined the sidewalks in every direction. Everyone had cheerful expressions on their faces as they cheered on the runners who passed by in a flash. The excitement of the qualifiers and the Ageo City Half Marathon were incomparable to this.

This was the Hakone Ekiden. Furthermore, he was running in the ace’s leg.

Musa was happy. He wasn’t born in this country, and there were people who didn’t welcome him. He knew that. But, at this moment, what a free and equal place I am in! I'm sharing the same time and space as the runners running alongside me and the leaders so far ahead I cannot even see them.

They had been practicing and practicing, transforming their bodies into bodies for running, and now they felt the same wind on their skins.

What Fujioka had said was correct—as a foreign student in the Faculty of Science and Engineering, he would never have been able to experience such excitement and unity. Only those who had faced running in earnest could feel the buzz of boiling blood.

The cheers became noticeably louder, and Musa finally realized that he had passed in front of Yokohama Station. It was the 8.3 kilometer point. When had he run this far? The elevated tracks of the Third Keihin Line curved away to his right overhead. Pale sunlight descended from the cleared sky. Musa continued to run with Jounan Bunka and Doujidou on the road surface that was beginning to dry.

As Musa got into the rhythm of the race, both the fact that the landlord had told him “slow your pace” at the five kilometer point and that the tough spot of the second leg—Gontazaka—was ahead of him completely slipped from his mind.

---

“He’s going too fast.”

Kiyose pulled the radio earphones out of his ears and called the landlord.

“Yes, this is the coach car.”

“Did you make sure to tell Musa at five kilometers?”

“Don’t sound so scary, Haiji. I told him, I told him. But he didn’t listen, so what can I do?”

“At the ten-kilometer mark, call out to him to hold himself back again.”

After hanging up the phone, Kiyose rested his head against the hard back of his seat. He furrowed his brow, closed his eyes tightly, and sighed.

“He's been completely swallowed up by the atmosphere.”

Kakeru put his hand on the back of the seat and stooped a little to take in the scenery passing by outside the window.

“It’s a good thing there’s no wind today. I still can’t see the sea.”

He saw Kiyose open his eyes and look up at him as though to say, “What are you being so carefree about?”

“I’m sure Musa-san will notice before it’s too late. Let’s believe in him,” Kakeru said, still looking out the window. Kiyose put an earphone into his ear again.

“We can only hope so,” he muttered.

---

Of the ten legs of the Hakone Ekiden, the second leg, which ran from Tsurumi to Totsuka, was the longest at twenty-three kilometers.

Moreover, after fourteen kilometers, there was a 1.5 kilometer uphill slope, Gontazaka, ahead. There were small ups and downs even after overcoming the slope, and in the last three kilometers after the twenty-kilometer mark, there was another uphill.

With a distance of twenty-three kilometers and plenty of ups and downs towards the end, the course was both difficult and flashy enough to be described as the “leg of flowers.” In addition to overall running ability, runners were required to have strong mental strength and persistence to overcome pressure and pain, and they also needed to have a clever mind to read the race development and the dexterity to change their running style according to the ups and downs of the course.

Musa ran in a steady rhythm on the relatively flat road to Yokohama Station. He charged onto Gontazaka with that momentum and four seconds into the ascent, he realized, “Oh, it’s Gontazaka.” His legs no longer moved forward, as though weights had been attached to them.

The gap between him and the Jounan Bunka and Doujidou runners, who he had been running alongside, was getting wider and wider. Musa rushed to keep up with them, but realized it was impossible.

What was I doing? Musa finally became aware of the cold wind hitting his face. The tight-fitting arm covers had absorbed his sweat and were now damp.

It seems like the blood was rushing to my head. Musa’s surroundings flowed into his eyes and ears, like the wind blowing through a room and shaking the curtains through an open window. Small stores lined up one after another along Route 1; loud cheers from the spectators forming an uninterrupted wall; it was a peaceful New Year’s scene in the suburbs.

Didn’t I watch the TV with Kakeru at the Tsurumi relay station? Eleven of the runners in the second leg have a time of about twenty-eight minutes for ten-thousand meters, and the same goes for Jounan Bunka and Doujidou. Even if I tried to keep up with those two outright, I would only destroy myself.

What’s the fun in a competition where it’s easy to guess the outcome based on the athletes’ times, the twins had said. But that’s not true, Musa thought. Even if the difference in ability can be easily clarified by the simple numerical value of time, this isn’t a track event; it’s an ekiden. I’m running now because I was handed the sash and I need to pass it off to the next person. It’s not like the ten-thousand meter where we all start running on a flat track—this undulating twenty-three kilometers is only a tenth of the distance from Tokyo to Hakone. It’s only a small part of the huge race that’s put together by ten people.

The second leg is just the prologue, something from which one can derive the unknown development of the race in the future. I should not be overwhelmed, but rather run in a way that’s appropriate for the prologue; in other words, I should run calmly and steadily to improve our ranking as much as possible. Even if I cannot match their speed, I should read the race carefully and look for an opportunity.

First of all, let’s get some water at the fifteen-kilometer point, Musa thought. He had expected it to be chilly, but he had been running at a fast pace and sweating quite a bit. And then…that’s right. Musa remembered the warning Kiyose had given him.

“On the descent of Gontazaka, be careful. On the way up, if you’ve been running well up to that point, you should be able to keep the rhythm going, but that doesn’t mean you should rush down the slope, because you’ll definitely fall down. On the descent, you need to hold back a little to conserve your stamina. The real battleground of the second leg is the uphill slope in the last three kilometers. Control yourself and keep chasing until that point.”

Understood, Haiji-san. Musa nodded to himself and silently ascended Gontazaka. The highest point of Gontazaka was fifty-six meters above sea level. In front of Yokohama Station, it was 2.5 meters, so they would have to run up more than fifty meters in one go.

Just before the highest point was the fifteen-kilometer mark. A member of the short-distance team, wearing a Kansei jersey and a water supply bib, held out a drink bottle provided by the tournament to Musa.

“You’re in eighteenth right now. There are seven people huddled together in front of you. You can make it.”

In the short time they were running together, he was able to convey the information quickly and efficiently. Musa nodded and slowly rehydrated himself, holding the water in his mouth. He drank just enough to keep his stomach from getting too heavy and then tossed the bottle to the side of the road.

He was in eighteenth, which meant that he had already passed another team besides Teitou while he had lost himself in running. The water supplier said there were seven people in a huddle, but two of them were probably Jounan Bunka and Doujidou—those two would probably go further ahead. He wondered which teams the other five were from.

Taking advantage of the gentle descent of Gontazaka, Musa looked ahead. A broadcast van was following the Doujidou runner, who was spurting ahead, in order to capture him on camera. The coach cars for each school were also hurrying ahead to give instructions at the fifteen-kilometer mark. The cars were in the way, so he couldn’t get a good look, but it seemed that several people were competing with each other.

Musa moved a little closer to the center line and took an angle. From the other side of the cars, he could see the green and white vertically-striped uniform of Eurasia University.

Eurasia? I believe they left the Tsurumi relay station in fourth place.

It was only then that Musa realized that there had been a major upheaval in the rankings.

The fact that Eurasia's runner was so far back was a sign that he wasn’t in a comfortable position. Maybe he was sick, maybe he wasn’t feeling well, or maybe he couldn’t get into a rhythm.

The broadcast van was getting further and further away; Doujidou and Jounan Bunka must have broken away from the group. Musa decided that it was possible to catch up with the remaining five. It was possible to overtake them. Let’s not rush and close the distance little by little.

From the coach’s car behind him, he could hear the hoarse voice of the landlord.

“Musa! I hope you’re not snorting and shrivelling up your balls like an excited racehorse!”

The voice over the speaker stopped for a while—it seemed that he had been given a warning by the watchman in the car. With a cough, the landlord spoke again.

“You remember what Haiji warned you about, Musa-kun! If you do, do three somersaults on the spot!”

How is such a haphazard person our coach? Musa laughed. He felt his shoulders relax as he laughed, and his brain became calmer and clearer.

Musa lightly raised his right hand and sent an OK sign to the coach car.

---

At the Totsuka relay station, Jouta and King were sitting on a plastic sheet, talking as they watched a portable TV.

“They barely show the lower ranked teams. I wonder if Musa’s doing okay.”

“It can’t be helped, there’s so much competition at the top.”

On the screen, Manaka University was finally starting to gain a wide lead on Rikudou and Bousou.

“But I’m sure Musa-san will be fine.”

Just then, the rankings at the fifteen-kilometer mark appeared on the screen; Kansei was in eighteenth place. Excluding the selection team, they were in seventeenth place. The camera switched to show the offense and defense of the lower teams. Musa was rapidly approaching the five runners ahead of him.

“There he goes!”

“Yes!”

Jouta and King happily shook hands.

“There’s no time to sit around, Jouta. Musa might be here pretty soon.”

“I think I should sit still before I run.” Jouta, who had finished his jog a long time ago, was doing stretches as he sat. “Anyways, King-senpai, how’s your job hunt going?”

“Why are you asking about that now?”

“If we don’t talk about something else, I’ll get nervous.”

“You know I get sweaty when it comes to this topic.” King got sulky, but his mission now was to keep Jouta’s mind at peace before he ran the third leg. He reluctantly answered, “I’m not doing anything. I don’t have time to look for a job with this life.”

“Huh, so what are you gonna do? You’re gonna be a jobless graduate?”

“I guess I have no choice but to stay another year.” King hugged his knees, sighed, and looked up at the sky. The blue winter sky was covered with thin white clouds. “I wonder if my parents will forgive me.”

His sighs spilled out and drifted slightly, melting into the air with the same texture as the clouds.

“Stay a year, stay a year.” Jouta sat grasping his knees as he rocked his upper body back and forth with his bottom as the fulcrum. “Then, let’s go to Hakone again next year.”

“Idiot, the year just started and you’re already talking about next year. I’m not doing it. I won’t be able to go look for a job again,” King dismissed Jouta’s suggestion at high speed and then suddenly shut his mouth. “…Are you going to participate next year too?”

“I am.” Jouta stood. “Of course I’m going to participate.”

Jouta’s eyes had a seriousness in them that had never been there before. He’s motivated. Feeling Jouta’s fighting spirit right before his turn, King was also inspired.

“Alright.” King also sat up from the plastic sheet and stretched out his knees. “Let’s do some dashes one last time.”

Jouta and King began to run back and forth through the crowded Totsuka relay station.

Musa was running the last three kilometers of the hellish ascent with nothing but his willpower.

He had overtaken Eurasia before the slope. Running alongside him was Tokyo Gakuin University, Akebono University, Kita Kantou University, and the runner from the selection team. He couldn’t catch sight of the runners ahead of him; he couldn’t tell if the distance was great or if he just couldn’t see them because of the competition vehicles and terrain.

For now, he had his hands full just watching the movements of the four running with him. They couldn’t afford to fall behind here. If possible, they wanted to put on a spurt, pull ahead of this group, and hand over the sash to the runner of the third leg; Musa could feel everyone thinking the same thing and planning their moves.

No one wanted to come this far and be the first to drop out of the group.

His physical and mental strength were at their limits, but his tenacity was enough to keep him going without dropping his speed.

The Totsuka relay station was midway up the slope. Five hundred more meters. The view to the left was blocked by a soundproof wall, but the crowd on the sidewalks told him that the relay station was close. Musa saw that the selection team runner, who was right in front of him, was sweating more than he was. All the runners were breathing hard. Of course, Musa was too.

He had to go right now. Musa passed the selection team runner and got to the front of the group. It was his final spurt, which he put on with all his might.

As long as I can get this sash to Jouta at the Totsuka relay station. I don’t care if I collapse and can't get up; my time was far from the record for this leg, but I’m running with all my strength. I’ll show this running to everyone, without crashing in the last few hundred meters.

His chin was up and his form was unbecoming of a long-distance runner, but he couldn’t care about his appearance. He could see the relay station. He could see Jouta slowly raising his arm. Musa bent forward and dashed. He wasn’t sure when he took it off, but the fist he held out to Jouta had Kansei’s sash in it.

“That was an ace’s run.”

Jouta slapped Musa’s arm twice with the hand that had received the sash. Musa could hear Jouta’s light footsteps as he ran off coming directly from the asphalt he had fainted on.

The next thing Musa knew, he was lying on top of a plastic sheet in what appeared to be the parking lot of a ramen shop and a used car dealership. The whole place was filled with the buzz of the race officials, the runners who had finished running, and their attendants. It seemed that he had only lost consciousness for a short time.

“Are you awake?” King’s tearful face filled his vision. “You’ve done well, Musa.”

Musa received his explanation and then took stock of the situation: Musa had won the final battle and arrived at the Totsuka relay station in thirteenth place. He overtook seven teams and ran twenty-three kilometers in one hour ten minutes and fourteen seconds. That was the twelfth fastest time among the twenty runners of the second leg.

Even though they had moved up to thirteenth place, they were twenty-seven seconds behind Shinsei University in twelfth place and only had a six second difference with Tokyo Gakuin University in fourteenth place. It was still a tricky position to be in, but thanks to Musa’s tenacity, there was still hope for Kansei.

“Jouta was so enthusiastic seeing you run.” King rubbed his nose, which was red from being outside all day.

I’m glad. I was able to run well.

Musa’s lips trembled and he nodded silently. If he said anything, the tears would overflow, pouring out of him along with the words.

---

After arriving at JR Odawara Station, Kakeru and Kiyose walked through the station to transfer to the Hakone Tozan Railway.

“I see, understood. Good work.” Kiyose finished his conversation with King and snapped his phone shut. “He said Musa woke up immediately. The two of them will be heading to a hotel in Fujisawa.”

“Is that so.”

Kakeru was relieved. He had been worried ever since seeing Musa collapse at the Totsuka relay station on TV. King had seemed shaken as well and hadn’t answered his phone for a while even when they called him. Finally, King had called to report that Musa was okay.

“Shouldn’t we have called Jouta before he ran?”

They bought their tickets and went through the ticket gate. Kiyose checked the electronic bulletin board for the departure time of the train; the Odakyu line, which would take them to Hakone-Yumoto, seemed to be arriving in about ten minutes.

“The twins will be fine even if we leave them alone. They’re the type who would call themselves if they’re anxious.”

He has a point, Kakeru thought. They walked down the stairs side by side. On the platform, there were a few people wearing their best clothes.

“Putting that aside, the real problem here is Shindou’s condition.”

Before the train arrived, Kiyose began dialling a number on his phone. “Is that Yuki-san?” Kakeru asked, and Kiyose nodded. Then it seemed that Yuki picked up.

“It’s me,” he said. Kakeru reached for Kiyose’s phone from the side and pressed the button to switch it to speaker phone, thinking it was probably fine since they were in the middle of a crowd. Kiyose's head was tilted and Kakeru grabbed hand, changing the way the phone was held so it was right before their eyes.

“How’s Shindou’s condition?”

“I don’t know,” Yuki’s voice answered. “I can’t see his complexion, and he absolutely refuses to let me take his temperature. I guess it’s not good.”

“What do you mean you can’t see his complexion?” Kiyose’s eyebrows raised. “I do hope you’re attending Shindou.”

Yuki was supposed to be at the Odawara relay station with Shindou, who was running the fifth leg. Kiyose felt frustrated that he couldn’t go check on him even though he was so close.

“Shindou is next to me,” Yuki said. “But he's covered everything below his nose with a towel and he’s wearing masks on top of that. He’s wearing two masks: one’s for colds and the other’s for pollen allergies. I can’t even see his face, much less his complexion. Can you breathe, Shindou?”

Shindou had apparently put himself in full quarantine in order to not infect the attending Yuki with his cold. They heard Yuki handing over the phone.

“Hello.”

It was Shindou’s voice. It was a mumbling, unintelligible voice, like a kidnapper demanding ransom.

“How high’s your fever?”

Kiyose had cut straight to the point, but Shindou only answered, “It's not at all. I’m at the normal temperature.

“Kakeru is there, right?”

“Yes,” Kakeru said and took a step towards the phone.

“If you can, I want you to buy a mask on the way. I’ll leave the ones I’m wearing to Yuki-senpai.”

“If you have a normal temperature, then there’s no need to be so cautious,” Kiyose said.

“How did Haiji-san hear me?” The shock could be heard in Shindou’s voice. It’s the speaker phone, Kakeru explained in his mind.

“Got it. I’ll buy one, so don’t worry,” he answered out loud.

“Shindou, drink as much water as you can,” Kiyose instructed. “Even if you wet yourself while running, it’s better than being dehydrated.”

“I don’t want either of those things,” Shindou laughed, and then the call went dead.

“That’s a pretty useful function,” Kiyose said, staring at his phone. Kakeru turned off the speaker phone.

“Didn’t you know about it?” he asked.

“I never even noticed.”

Then what did you think that button was for? Kakeru cocked his head in puzzlement as he ran to the store on the platform. The train to Hakone-Yumoto arrived right as he returned to Kiyose after buying the mask.

Kiyose got onto the train, looking down slightly.

“It’s hard not to say, ‘You don’t have to force yourself to run.’”

Kakeru tucked the mask into his pocket and silently followed Kiyose.

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