#god forbide you ever express that though but like.. youre allowed to be uncomfortable youre allowed to be upset

[taechaos]

No More

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: dark romance, college au

synopsis: Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook. Maybe it's a sign you and him weren't meant to be.

warnings: fluff, daddy kink, public sex, degredation, mild angst

word count: 6.7k

a/n: dedicated to a good old gemini, known as pretzel anon. happy birthday! this was shit! 💞 can someone let me know if i made a stupid mistake i was really high while writing this lol

If every couple goes at their own pace, how does one know if the relationship is rushed or a slow burn? What is considered a date, and how many do you have to go on to stop calling it a date? Maybe there’s a book called Dating for Dummies.

Jungkook has taken you out once: a fast food meal on the curb across your campus. Romance is subjective, so you thought it to be very romantic when he fed you a french fry under the streetlights while you were too stuffed to finish your food. “I paid for it,” he’d said, “so you have to eat it all.”

“I’ll eat anything from your hand,” you’d replied bashfully. He got a bit awkward after that, and you regretted saying it until he began feeding you and even holding your drink to your mouth. It was a successful first date, but you wanted it to last longer; feel your heartbeat out of rhythm with every smile he threw at you until the sun came up. Unfortunately for you, he walked you to your dorm a little after dinner.

Luckily for you, you know that wasn’t your first and last date. You’re going to ask him out for the second one because it’s a beautiful day outside and you’ve studied all morning for your finals to clear up your schedule for Jungkook. A walk in the park sounds nice, then a picnic, maybe he’ll even hold your hand! Is it too soon for another date though? It’s only been less than a day… 

You’re wearing your favorite outfit for the occasion: a pale blue floral dress that has a rectangular collar on the chest—without cleavage, God forbid—and sandal heels to match. You even styled your hair, and hopefully dressing to impress works; you don’t want him to say no. The current issue is finding Jungkook, and you don’t want to be that person, but you’re avoiding calling him in case you bust him with another girl by searching instead. It makes you guilty for having trust issues, but infidelity has its impacts.

Regardless of your internal concerns, you’re happily humming as you skip on the sidewalk, checking every corner for a certain someone. So far no such luck, and if he isn’t in his dorm, and if he doesn’t go off campus on Sundays, where could he be? In someone else’s dorm…?

“Stop,” you scold yourself with a roll of your eyes and continue your hunt. Next location: the back of the building. The front is cleared out, so is the dorm; what’s happening in the most secretive area? “God,” you sigh. Is this how your thinking process has always been? You hope it is.

The beat in your steps has gone missing when you’re rounding the exterior of the building because of your reluctance. You’re contemplating calling him until you see the back of a man with a girl in front of him by the benches, presumably kissing from the smacking noises. You clench your phone in your dress pocket as you watch them, hesitant to find out who the guy is.

“Jun–” Your voice goes quiet when you see the tattoo of a dragon on his shoulder, peeking out from his black loose tank top. It’s not Jungkook’s tattoo. You bite your lip and ignore the relief in your tight muscles; he’s dating you now, that’s what he said. It’s different, so there’s no point in worrying about his loyalty. 

You shake your hands off and walk faster to the taboo spot. There’s no point in worrying, there isn’t, not when he told you he would make it up to you. There’s no reason for your heart to race from expecting the worst when you make the final turn.

A shaky breath leaves you and a small smile follows when you see him smoking with his friends by the back exit. There are four people with him, Taehyung included, who is sharing a cigarette with him. He notices you first because he’s facing you whereas Jungkook is facing the clear forest across. He waves you over with a wide grin, his eyes lighting up.

“I see a pretty girl at 9 o’clock,” Taehyung says and Jungkook turns his head, the rest following his lead. You take tiny strides while approaching them and bite down on a shy smile.

“Hi,” you greet in a small voice. Your eyes immediately lock with Jungkook’s, who looks baffled.

“Hey yourself,” Taehyung greets back. “Care to share?” He holds a burning cigarette out to you with a slight bow, as if offering you a rose.

“She doesn’t smoke,” Jungkook answers for you without looking away. Is he displeased?

“Have you ever tried it?” he persists before inhaling the stick and blowing it in your face. You cough and hold a fist to your mouth, shaking your head. Jungkook slaps the back of his head before taking the cigarette from him and putting it out on the wall he’s leaning against. “You owe me a whole pack now.”

“Care to introduce us?” a guy you don’t know asks curiously. 

“Oh, right–”

Jungkook cuts him off before putting names onto the three strangers’ faces, Namjoon being the one who asked for the introduction, and when he comes to you, he says, “Meet… my girlfriend.”

“Thought you said she was a lousy nerd, Taehyung,” Yoongi comments before chugging from his flask. “Doesn’t look like it to me.” Taehyung chuckles uncomfortably before rubbing the nape of his neck as you tilt your head at him, the glint in your eyes never fading at Jungkook’s words.

“I didn’t get a close look at her before, didn’t know she was a real beauty,” he recovers with a flirt. Another slap on the back of his head. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” Seokjin diverts the topic. He appears very nice and seems to be the only one not smoking. His friendly smile puts you at ease and you politely tell him, “The pleasure is all mine.” Good first impression on all of Jungkook’s friends: check.

Your boyfriend ignores the interaction and stares at you until you gaze at him as well. “What are you doing here?” You can’t read his expression.

“I wanted to ask you…” you play with your fingers nervously, “if you wanted to go to the park with me?”

Jungkook quirks a brow as Namjoon and Seokjin wiggle their brows, Taehyung frowns, and Yoongi smirks. Quite brave of you to ask him out in front of his smoker friends, and it’s impressive that you play into such a role of textbook love: only caring about what your crush thinks. When Jungkook peeks to see their reactions, more or less weighing their judgement, he’s satisfied when he realizes none of them give a flying fuck about him being with a girl next door; someone outside of his type of rather than a free escort, really. 

He doesn’t care about what they think when he smiles down at you and says, “Let’s go.” You bounce on your heels when he swings his arm over your shoulder and walks away from the scene. The unsteady heartbeat is back for the same reason as last time, but you’re waiting to request something else.

The park near the university is peaceful with groups of friends hanging out; couples sitting on benches; the sun shining down on the trees and grass as you aim for the ice cream stand. You try to muster up the courage to ask him first, but you’re feeling courageous as you pull away from his arm and instead latch onto his hand and intertwine your fingers. You glance at him with a blush to see his reaction, but he doesn’t look at you and only squeezes your hand nonchalantly. His grip is tighter than yours. Maybe it’s from the heat, but his cheeks are tinted in a light pink shade. 

You stumble on your heels when you stare at him for too long, but you recover from a fall last second. He holds onto you anyway, furrowing his brows at your shoes. “High heels? Are you trying to reach my height?”

“You like them,” you giggle and continue your struts more carefully. When he frowns, you worry, “Do I not look good in them?” 

“Why would I like them if you can’t walk in them? You look pretty in flats too.” 

After a whole afternoon of eating ice cream, blushing at anything nice Jungkook said, listening to his music while sitting under the sun, the evening has come. Throughout the day, you were dreading the end of it because every second with him is so enjoyable. The warmth of his hand when you play with his fingers is a feeling you never want to forget, and you didn’t notice the little smile on his face when you were lying on his chest as he watched you do the most endearing and innocent thing one could think of. 

“So precious,” he’d thought. It makes the argument from yesterday feel all the more terrifying when he remembers how close he had gotten to losing this moment. It’s nothing he’s ever experienced or even seen before; plain jackpot.

You’re off the school grounds as you walk on the streets passing cafés with Jungkook, hands locked and feeling perfect. You wonder if he has ever done this with anyone before, but then he’s never been in a relationship. Who are the people that comment in his Instagram posts then? A question strikes you, and you admire his side profile as you ask, “You don’t like it when people call you– Ah!” Your balance wavers as you stumble again, this time falling on your knees after your ankle bends. With the pain tolerance of a baby’s, your eyes instantly water and you let go of his hand as you hold onto your ankle. It’s sprained.

“Shit, are you okay?” He crouches down and picks you up bridal style before sitting you down on a nearby chair. The café’s lights allow him to see the scrape on your knee and the bump on your ankle. “Hey, hey, don’t cry now,” he rubs your injury soothingly as he cringes at your tears. He doesn’t know how to comfort you as you whimper and sniffle. 

“Damn these heels,” you cry quietly. 

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise at your wording. “This is my second time hearing you swear. Swearing apparently helps with pain though. Say ‘fuck’.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth, but you decide to try it anyway; the throbbing muscle hurts too much. “F-Fuck.”

“Fuck these heels,” he encourages.

“Fuck these fucking heels,” you level. Maybe the theory is correct, because it feels slightly better when he laughs at your rare vulgarity. A minute passes with you trying to keep your tears at bay while he lightly massages your wound.

When he notices you calm down, he asks, “I don’t like it when people call me…?”

You sniffle and rub your eyes before saying a few seconds later, “Daddy.”

He blinks, stares at you, and his heart skips a beat. With your soft pout and red nose, you look so little to him. “... Yes?”

“Huh?”

“Oh,” he smoothly snaps out of his shock, “I don’t have that kink… Um, say it again?”

“Daddy?” 

It sounds different hearing it from you. Without the drawn out whine or the eggplant emoji next to it, and with your voice, it actually sounds cute. “What does that word mean to you?” he shifts the conversation with a subtle blush.

“I don’t know. You call a fatherly figure daddy, right? A man who takes care of you. People say it during sex too. You’re being a daddy right now.”

“Stop,” he warns lowly, “we’re in public.” He stands up from his kneeling position and picks you up in his arms again. “Have you ever called anyone that?” 

You clasp your hands behind his neck as he walks with ease, as if he isn’t carrying anyone in the first place. “No. My dad walked out on my mom when I was little, and I haven’t met anyone who treats me like you do.”

“Wait, you… think of me as your… daddy?” His eyes are wide and he’s gaping at the path in front of him with knitted brows. He looks so intimidating when you scrutinize his features, but you know he’s just flustered. You timidly nod against his shoulders. “Christ. Why?”

Your answer isn’t immediate because you don’t want to come off as too strong, but he’s impatient as he squeezes your waist. “I know you don’t want people to call you that,” you whisper understandingly, “but you’re so mean to others, and you hurt anyone who upsets you.” He rolls his tongue around his cheek uncomfortably. “Whether it be with words or actions. But you’re so sweet to me… You can be really rude, but you care a lot too. You don’t even smoke around me,” you laugh lightheartedly. 

“I mean, you are a baby. You make it difficult to not treat you like one,” he jokes with a hint of truth. You snuggle into his neck with a lopsided grin and your breath fans his tan skin. “I don’t like being an asshole to you, but I’m not exactly a nice person either.”

“You’re carrying me to my dorm,” you point out as a counter.

“I’m only nice to you; somewhat. And… I don’t like being called daddy by horny women, or men for that matter. I’ve never liked it, so I’m not exactly sure why I’m hard right now.” You tense against him. “Something about your sweet, innocent voice calling me daddy is really fucking hot.” He sighs to collect his thoughts; he can’t wait until he’s in your room. It would just be torture. “Did you get on birth control, baby?” He keeps his volume low in case of someone eavesdropping.

“Yes,” you mumble and grow nervous at what he’s thinking.

“Good girl,” he exhales and swiftly enters an empty alley between two restaurants. “Quite the slut too, telling me all this in a crowd.”

“I’m sorry,” you breathe as he presses you against the wall and has you wrapping your legs around his waist. He’s so thoughtful, carrying you even when he’s shaming you so you don’t put pressure on your injured foot. The shadows casting from the walls in the narrow space limits your vision, but you don’t need to see anything when he’s doing all the work by rendering you immobile from the press of his hips.

“Good choice with the dress,” he says while pulling out his belt and releasing the buckle. You hold onto him tightly without the security of his hands. He pushes his jeans down and has you towering over him by adjusting your position from the back of your thighs. Your breathing is quick and shallow from the anxious anticipation of the raw stretch, but he’s so nice to you today: he shoves your panties to the side and rubs your folds to collect your arousal as lube. He’s being thoughtful by relaxing your walls with his fingers first, and you bite down on a moan at the sensation. He’s still taking care of you by silencing you with a bruising kiss. 

“Thank you,” you sigh against his lips. His two knuckles are deep inside you as they curl and scissor. As nice as he is, he’s also very impatient and it’s not long before you feel his tip lightly poking at your entrance. 

“Ideal for a quick fuck.” He flashes a dazzling smile before it falters in order to concentrate on positioning himself. He closes his eyes and bites his lip as he slowly enters you, a lot more gentle considering the setting and knowing how vocal you get. A hum rumbles in his throat as you gasp when he’s halfway inside. When he bottoms out, he waits a few seconds for you to adjust before his rough nature returns. “You gonna stay quiet for me, little girl?”

“I’ll try.” Your heart is pounding in your chest when he leans in your ear, his breath tickling your neck. 

“You know that’s not what I wanna hear,” he whispers. He isn’t going to fuck you until you say what he wants, and your diffidence doesn’t make an appearance when his fingers are digging so hard into your thighs, his breath is hot on your skin, and he’s completely nestled inside you.

You lean into his ear as well, and meekly say, “I’ll try my best, daddy.” You can feel him shiver under your hands and hear him grunt, “God,” before he starts moving. Fast. You’d think he’s in a rush from how his pace picked up so quickly—roughly—but he may have just discovered his new kink. 

There’s no point in being quiet when the slam of his cock is enough noise deep in the alley, and he realizes that before you do. You’re bouncing in his arms, mouth open in a silent scream with only huffs leaving to not expose your doings, until he growls, “Say it again. Again and again.”

The chilly breeze from the night weather doesn’t affect you when he has you flush against him, and heat creeps all over your body not only from his hard and impatient thrusts but also from his words. “Daddy,” you whine, the same drawn out whine that he used to hate hearing; it makes his abs contract and clench now, a groan catching in his throat. He sounds almost animalistic, and your eyes screw back in pleasure. 

“Quiet, you fucking slut,” he reminds with a following moan. 

“I-I’m sorry, daddy,” you whisper in a strained voice. You can’t keep your vocal cords steady when he’s knocking the breath out of you every time he hits your cervix so deliciously. Jungkook’s a total paradox when he’s being so aggressive yet sweet at the same time, but it feels too good for you to complain. Your head is in the clouds when he bites on your shoulder to practice what he preaches: being quiet. 

“Do you love me?” Maybe that’s not the way you should go on about asking to hear his sweet nothings, because he bites you so hard that you feel his teeth break your skin. 

“The fuck kind of question is that?” he snarls. He licks a drop of your blood off of his lips when he faces you, but the bruising pistoning of his cock doesn’t differ; maybe slams into you even harder. “Hm? Answer me, dumb little slut.” He pinches your thigh cruelly, emitting a pained gasp from you.

 “I just want to hear you say it, please daddy,” you mewl. “I love you so much.”

“Keep fucking begging.”

You initially thought Jungkook became more honest and affectionate when you’re being intimate, but it seems that one word brings out a different side to him: wild and sadistic. Perhaps there are two sides of him being a daddy, one not so much of a fatherly figure. Controlling, dominating, and violent. You’ve received too many bruises in one night.

“Please, please, please, pretty please,” you comply in a cry and hug him tighter.

“Missing something,” he tuts with a breathless laugh. “I love you, stupid girl, more than anything.” He stops ramming into you, and the drag of his throbbing length loses its pace but not its strength. “So, so fucking much,” he strains before slamming into you one last time for his release. With him stuck brushing against your sensitive spot and his shaky moan, your lashes flutter and you clench down on him with the intoxicating wave of your orgasm coursing through your trembling figure. You whimper his name as his cum fills you, the warmth coating your walls while you lose your sense of awareness. 

“Stand on one leg,” he breathes. You know he’s referring to your safe foot, so you disentangle your legs from his waist and stand. The only sound aside from the drown out dialogues from the restaurants nearby is your panting. Though he’s just as drained of energy as you are, he adjusts your dress and underwear for you, even fixing your hair before he pulls up his pants and lifts you. “Don’t call me that around others by the way– especially Taehyung.”

“I promise,” you assure with a chuckle.

The next day, a dreadful Monday, is not so bad when you get to link with your boyfriend and other friends by your usual spot on the benches. You don’t have a lot of lectures throughout the day, and you sit next to Jungkook who’s chatting with Taehyung and Yoongi after your long morning lecture in the afternoon. You peck his cheek as a greeting with a lovesick grin, and the former annoyed look on his face vanishes when he sees you. Soyeon and Minnie are close by, and thankfully there’s no tension between anyone. You’re forgiving, but you aren’t going to forget.

“So you two are actually back together, huh?” Taehyung says with a mocking smile. “What goes around comes around, Kookie.”

“Taehyung, you’re not making this any easier on yourself,” Yoongi murmurs.

Jungkook scoffs and rolls his tongue around his cheek—an irritated habit. “Well then Tae, I’m going to be polite and ask you to not be a homewrecker.”

“I have been hanging around Soyeon too much lately…” he jokes with a tilt of his head.

“Don’t turn this on me,” she says with a quirked brow, tone as soft as Jungkook remembers. You sit back and sigh at their bickering. “I didn’t know his name, you have no excuse to be flirting with her.”

“He isn’t–” You can’t get a word in when Jungkook agrees, “She’s fucking right, you know. Stop tailing around me to get a look up at her skirt.”

“I am not–"

“Oh for God’s sake,” Yoongi sighs like you do. Both of you share a guilty look, apologizing on each other’s behalf. It’s only when you start tracing the tattoos on Jungkook’s arm that he finally looks at you.

“You like it?” he asks, a bit smugly. You nod with a tiny smile. His tongue darts out to lick his lips before he pecks yours, and says, “I’ll add your name to the collection. Thinking of inking my knuckles.”

A blush from his kiss, and a bashful smile from his idea graces your face when you cutely pout, “No…” He laughs at your very obviously fake denial and closes in on you, teasing in a whisper, “Yeah? You like that?”

“Look at you two being so adorable,” Taehyung interrupts with a dreamy sigh, “but I want ice cream.” He holds his hands up by his elbows on the oak table and leans his face on them with fluttering eyelashes. “Kookie? Ice cweam? Pwease?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook winces at the disgustingly cutesy face he makes, and you release a humoured breath at the friendlier banter. “Go buy it yourself, moron.”

“I don’t have money and I want her tea on how you two made up,” he flutters his lashes again with his fingers intertwined; begging so silly. “Pretty please.”

“Now I’m definitely not going to leave you alone with her.”

“Baby,” you interject, and his eyes widen at the nickname. “I want ice cream too.”

He flashes a quick glare at Taehyung, easily giving into your needs with a sigh. “You’re paying, fuckface.” He snatches his wallet the moment it’s out of his pocket and walks off while spinning it between his fingertips.

“He stole my fucking wallet,” he frowns without offence. “Oh well. So…” his eyes trail to you with a mischievous glint, “you never smoked before, right?”

You shake your head, a bit curious—albeit amused—as to where he’s going with this. 

“You wanna know something? Jungkook reeeaaally likes smokers,” he stretches his hands for emphasis. It piques your interest, and you raise a brow. “I can teach you. We have to do it fast, before he comes from the store. Okay?”

“Um… okay,” you laugh as he switches seats from across you to Jungkook’s spot. 

He takes out his pack where his lighter is also stuffed as he speaks, “So what I’m gonna do is teach you how to shotgun.”

“You can’t do that with a cigarette,” Yoongi states in boredom, a plain contrast to Taehyung’s hyperactivity. “Don’t listen to him. He’s lying to you.”

“Oh, shut the fuck– okay, sorry, didn’t mean to say that.” He turns to you with glimmering excitement, “It’ll be easier on you if we do it with a shotgun.” You merely shrug because you don’t even know what that means. He sticks a cigarette in his mouth before holding up a hand to his lighter, inhaling until the tip burns. Smoke flies past his lips as he explains, “You inhale from the filter, but don’t inhale too much. You’re going to cough, maybe feel a little lightheaded since it’s your first time, but try to hold it in, okay?” 

Taehyung peeks behind Yoongi before shifting his attention to you. He takes another drag from the cigarette but doesn’t exhale. “Okay,” you say with a nod, sharing his excitement at a new experience that Jungkook could potentially approve of. You can rely on Taehyung’s honesty, though the bad memory from before leaves a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you’re ready to create better memories with him. He flips the stick until the filter is between your lips.

He wraps his lips around the tip and your eyebrows shoot up at the proximity. He holds your face between his large palms, and the cigarette is hidden behind his hands. He leans closer and nods at you, and you take the cue to inhale. You hear Yoongi blow out a deep breath just as you take in a shallow one. The urge to cough strikes you instantly, and you hold it in the best you can; your cheeks puff out as you slightly wheeze, and smoke leaves from both your mouth and nose. That’s when Taehyung pulls back, the intense eye contact gone, and you hear Yoongi scoff and the heavy footsteps of someone else. You cough into your hand when Taehyung slips it out of your mouth and holds it under the table.

“What the fuck?” Jungkook asks incredulously and throws three wrapped popsicles on the bench. You feel slightly dizzy when your small coughing fit ends, and you grow confused as to why your boyfriend is glaring at you with such intensity as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Taehyung.

“Had to take you up on the homewrecker offer–” Taehyung’s sentence is cut off when Jungkook pulls him up by his collar, hesitates with his fist flying midway, then forcefully pushes him onto the pavement instead. He’s also confused– frantic, and doesn’t know what to do.

You’re semi-conscious of what he’s doing, but consuming nicotine for the first time leaves you feeling quite strange. You feel like you’ll stumble if you try to stand up, and slur if you speak, so you just wait it out.

“What– Why are you just sitting there?” he asks you with violent gestures. “What the fuck?” He holds onto his head, and all of your friends are quiet as they watch him. They must have missed you smoking for the first time. Yoongi waits for him to stop pacing.

“It’s not what you think, Jungkook,” Yoongi calmly tells him. What is he thinking though? “I know it looked–”

“The fuck it did! Right fucking in front of me? How the fuck are you so calm?” he yells. 

“Hm?” you say. He watches you in astonishment: bottom lip jutting out and brows scrunched. If he didn’t see you shamelessly kissing Taehyung out in the open, he would be doubting his own vision because of how unbothered you seem. It bewilders him; why aren’t you reacting at all?

“They weren’t–”

“It took almost one fucking week of dating for you to resort to this?” Taehyung is still on the ground as he sends you a warning glance, Yoongi is unbothered by the ordeal because he’s constantly interrupted, and Jungkook is fuming at you while you just sit there.

“I was just curious,” you relate to the cigarette that is still lit beneath the grass next to Taehyung.

An astounded laugh is his only response as Taehyung smiles at you, but you’re only looking at Jungkook. “And here I thought, like a fucking idiot, that you were the only girl unlike my mother. And you,” he looks at his old friend with menace, “show your face around me, and I won’t hold back again. God, I need to kill someone,” he sighs before storming off. So he doesn’t like cigarettes?

When the fog in your mind begins to clear up, you stand to go after him just as Taehyung blocks your path. “I need to tell him I won’t smoke again,” you try to push him aside, but he doesn’t budge.

He laughs. “It’s not about that. He thinks you and I kissed because I made it look like it.” Just as you’re about to confront him, he clarifies, “Listen, I just want his reaction on this, okay? Don’t you want him to feel how you felt when he kissed your friend?”

“I’m over that.”

“Are you though?” No, you aren’t. “Aren’t you paranoid? All nervous when he’s around other girls? Or even when he’s just not around you?” Your silence prompts him to continue, “You’ll truly forgive him if you take revenge. You know he won’t do it again if he feels the same way you felt.”

“But that’s cruel…” you try to reason.

“And what he did wasn’t?” 

Like the little devil on your shoulder, he enters your mind and reads it for his own agenda. What is his intention? Do what he couldn’t do with his ex? Is he… helping you? What he did was bad, so why aren’t you calling him out for it?

“What do I do?” you dodge his question. He knows the answer anyway.

He smiles with satisfaction. “Let’s talk it over a few cigarettes, hm?”

Back to square one– no, square zero. At square one, you could at least interact with Jungkook, do his homework and have him kiss you when he was satisfied; you don’t have anything to do with him now. Taehyung warned you of this, told you Jungkook would start seeing other people and avoid you unless he wanted to hurt you. How he knows him so well is beyond you, because that’s exactly what happens in the next four days.

You watch him from afar like before, see that scowl on his face that you haven’t seen in a long time after you met. Only two aspects have changed: the eye contact and Taehyung’s lack of presence around him. Jungkook’s eyes are always on you, filled with so much disdain and hatred, even when he’s kissing another girl. Smoking stops you from crying because of how dizzy you get, and Taehyung is always with you – waiting. Both of you are waiting for Jungkook to do something, and it’s a surprise Taehyung still hasn’t been beaten to a pulp for just talking to you.

Maybe it’s a sign that you and him weren’t meant to be. In the span of a short while when you were together, only problems have surfaced. So much misery and anger in a relationship isn’t normal; it’s toxic. But you wait anyway.

“Look at him glaring at you with a girl on his lap,” Taehyung chuckles before lighting up his cigarette. He’s leaning on the wall next to the campus entrance with you.

“Nothing new,” you croak and take a drag from yours, coughing again. It’s déjà vu, if anything. One has to learn from their mistakes to reach success, right? This situation is just one of them for the better of your relationship. Has to be. 

“Worldstar,” he sings with a laugh. “I kind of miss hanging out with him, though; and the rest of my friends.”

“Yeah.” You can’t exactly pay your utmost attention to his words when you’re having a staring contest with Jungkook, who is practically devouring the unidentified girl’s mouth. It doesn’t sting as much as long as he has his eyes on you because you know what it means now: he’s trying to make you jealous. You didn’t know that before, but you didn’t know Jungkook as well as you do now before either. 

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“You somehow always do.”

Your reply humors him. “You want to go up to him, tell him what I did. But you know I’ll stop you.” His eyes squint as his cheeks hollow to inhale the nicotine. It’s a Marlboro Red, not exactly fit for a starter like yourself. You hate that you can’t even stand without using the wall as a leverage, but the effect is a necessary distraction.

 “Why are you… so invested in this?”

He shrugs. “It may not seem like it, but it’s going to help strengthen your bond. It also gives you enough time to stop liking him and fall for me instead, but that’s just a plus.”

“What?” you slur. The cigarette is hanging on for dear life between your fingertips because of how weak you feel.

“We should kiss– for real this time,” he blurts. “He’ll talk to you sooner. God, I really want to kiss you.” He drops his stick before grabbing your face and softly crashing his lips against yours. You don’t close your eyes, you don’t really do much of anything while he does what he wants. It goes on for twenty seconds before he slowly pulls back. “He’ll talk to you tonight,” he exhales. “You’re welcome.” He pecks you again.

You finally close your eyes and your head hangs limply. “You’re the real problem,” you murmur, “you keep tearing us apart. The villain.”

“That kiss was on me,” he admits, “but I’m just making you face reality. Sometimes you have to be the bad guy, right? Only reason I can smoke with you is because Jungkook cares a fuckton about me. I’ll make it up to you as well, when your relationship isn’t a fucking lie.”

Couples go at their own pace, don’t they? Maybe this is how long it’s supposed to take for you to be one with your betrayed boyfriend. This is the real beginning; Taehyung is just the catalyst. 

You see it when Taehyung is gone and Jungkook isn’t kissing back anymore. He isn’t even glaring. He’s just blank.

Perhaps love isn’t all you need to be with Jungkook.

It’s late in the evening and the nicotine still hasn’t worn off. You haven’t moved an inch from your spot and neither has Jungkook from a distance, still on the same curb across. The girl left when she didn’t receive any responses from him for a minute straight. An emotionless “fuck off” was enough for her to angrily storm off.

You have no idea where Taehyung went and you’re sitting on the ground with your knees to your chest and hands on your sides. Jungkook is staring at you from the bench. You just need to wait because he’s going to approach you like his friend told you.

People aren’t in the yard so it’s mostly empty in the open space. The lights from the streets and inside the building you have your back against don’t allow you to see your boyfriend clearly enough. He doesn’t have an issue with making out your features though. That kicked puppy expression on your face is drawing him, but he hasn’t been cruel enough.

It’s been difficult treating you like shit, so he doesn’t bother. It’s pathetic anyway, more pathetic than having smeared lip gloss on his mouth that he hasn’t wiped off. He knows he shouldn’t be so immature – he’s twenty years old. He’s old enough to be able to communicate, but no one’s been making it easy for him.

He has to decide whether he wants to be with you or just end it all before he feels any worse. 

As the saying goes, no pain – no gain.

Jungkook slides down the wall and sits next to you after trudging in your way. It’s silent at first, and he doesn’t return your gaze when you look at him. You wait, and so does he. But he’s more impatient than you are; more hurt. 

“What did you see in him, for God’s sake?” His voice is tired; words merely a sigh. You stay patient. “I mean, right after I opened up to you? Why?”

“I was paranoid,” you croak quietly, as if you’re about to faint, “terrified of you being with someone else. Maybe if you felt what I felt…”

He lightly shakes his head. “No, you didn’t think of that on your own. You didn’t kiss him either.” You lean your head on his shoulder. “You didn’t want to smoke, didn’t want any of this to happen. What are you doing, my love?”

You sigh. “I didn’t do anything. I don’t do anything.” The issue is that you let yourself be manipulated and molded into anything Jungkook likes, but he’s never told you what he likes. “All I know is loving you. That’s it,” you shrug tiredly, “that’s all I do. Everything I do, I do for you.”

“I’ll ask you for one thing– okay, two. Scrub your fucking lips and never talk to that piece of shit again. I’m not friends with good people,” he turns to you, “I don’t want you around them. I’m stuck in a constant cycle of toxicity and you’re the only good fucking thing in my life right now. I don’t want you to smoke or talk with my friends.”

“Then why do you?”

He stammers, “I-I’m used to it, I don’t fucking know. I know how to protect myself, but you’re too… untainted for them. Look at us, we don’t even fucking dress similarly. You and I have nothing in common.” He huffs to himself and looks up to the sky. “If you know what’s good for you–”

“You are good for me,” you interject.

“Don’t fucking lie to yourself,” he scoffs at you, “I’m anything but good for you. Do I give a fuck though? No. I’m selfish, and I don’t want to lose you. But if you–”

“I don’t.”

“Okay.”

Another moment of silence passes. He’s the one to break it again. “I don’t want to have an issue like this ever again. No more infidelity, or whatever the fuck, no more silence. Communication, right?”

“Right. And no more getting involved with your social life.”

“Thank you,” he bows his head and licks his lips with a sigh. “I can’t deal with this again. I don’t want to leave like my dad, whore around like my mom; I just want to have normal fucking relationship problems.” His anxiety translates to his body language: nibbling, knee bouncing, cracking knuckles. He doesn’t like to talk about his family, friends or even you. You’re calmer in comparison. “Tell me… we’ll start over.”

“I’m not resetting my love for you,” you playfully nudge him.

The corner of his mouth curls. “Not like that. Let’s go back to you doing my homework.”

“Really?”

“I missed a fucking assignment today, okay?” he laughs. “I want to forget about all of this sad shit, you ever meeting my friends, Sooyen or whatever, all of it. Just you and me, okay?”

“Set our own pace,” you add with a nod. “No one interfering with our… bullshit.”

“Don’t fucking swear,” he puts a hand over your mouth and pushes your face with a wide grin. You giggle with him. 

Now that Taehyung and Soyeon’s over, there’s nothing left to chance with the involvement of someone else. Trust blooms instead, and it’s not so bad when Jungkook shares a cigarette with you as you take tiny puffs per his instruction. You are safe with him; not dizzy, lightheaded, manipulated, nothing. 

You’re happy, and so is he. Maybe that was the intention, but it means nothing. Taehyung sought vengeance through your relationship, and that’s that. No one can hold Jungkook against you when he’s in the palm of your hands, ready to tell you more than anyone else can offer. 

Jungkook’s love and trust: check.

When he flicks off the ash of his cigarette, you snuggle into him and whisper, “I love you daddy.” His ring glimmers under the moonlight as he pets your hair.

“Love you more, babygirl.”

[mrs-march-ahs]

Stop- you're so talented it hurts😫 I've literally been thinking about your Kit Walker fic for the last three days...

GIRL😭😭 Literally uno reverse card tho🥰 That’s so sweet! I’m honestly so so glad you enjoyed it! I love writing for you sm😌 On the topic of which baeby-

Angry Sex with Kit Walker

“Angry sex with Kit where he’s super dominant after a heated argument…yeah, I want that right now” -Kitwalker02

Say no more fam. 

Summary- An awkward flirty situation at the diner makes Kit angry. But soft kitten isn’t used to being angry, so he does all he can think of. He takes it out on you. I wouldn’t really call this smut because it’s mostly the build up than the actual sex but it does get spicy towards the end. 

Words- 1.6k, I might write a part 2 to this one day and write exactly how he punishes you. Also this is the first time where I sat down at my laptop and straight from the beginning to the end not getting distracted. 

Enjoy :)

----

Brushing your hair up in a neat ponytail, you flinch slightly, hearing the car door shut outside. Realising Kit was finally home, you quickly put on your favourite heels and trot towards the front door, your hands flatting out your beautiful dress. Today was date night, and unlike every other date night, where Kit comes home tired and you two eat dinner, have sex and go to bed, this was going to be special. He promised you last night that he’ll take you out to eat at a nice diner, and you went out of your way to look as good as you could for him. You wore his favourite summery dress that was just short enough for him to slide his hands up it while driving and showed just enough cleavage for him to focus on you when you talked. As he opened the front door, you stood proudly in front of him, waiting for him to notice you. Instead of immediately showering you with compliments, Kit looked you up and down a few times before slowly walking over to you.

“Do you like it, Mr Walka?”, you ask quietly.

“Honestly? It’s not fair”, Kit says to you with a faux concerned expression. You look at him puzzled and he explains.

“All the other men at the diner are going to have to look at you and accept that they’ll never have you”, Kit shook his head. “I feel bad for em”. He finally smiles and you place a huge kiss on his cheek. Kit puts his arms around you and kisses your temple. The smell of grease and motor oil on his work uniform overpowers the perfume you put on and you begin to smell like him. Although Kit promises you that he’ll be super quick getting dressed, you insist for him to not change. You tell him that you’re too hungry to wait, but really you’d hate for him to smell like generic manly perfume. Especially when he could smell like Kit.

The whole ride to the diner, Kit explains to you how difficult his day was. Kit explains how too many people are trying to fix their cars by themselves and messing them up even more in the process. You understood little of the details he tells you, but it’s clear from his face that it’s bothering him a lot. You take his hand lovingly and place it on your thigh, and as usual, Kit slides it up and down, his fingertips sensually stroking your inner thigh more and more. He gives you a cheeky wink and you two lovebirds arrive at your destination.

Kit, being the gentleman he is, practically jumps out of his car seat to run round and open your car door for you. God forbid a lady like you had to do it yourself. Kit can call it romance all he wants, but the second your butt leaves the car seat, he gives you a slight smack on your behind. You jump a little and smile at him, still not used to the affectionate gesture, despite him doing it every time. He tricks you once again, opening the door to the diner and then slapping your other cheek. You smack his hand away this time and giggle, finding a clean table and sitting down. Kit sits down opposite you and rubs his shoes against your feet, playing footsies with you as if you’ve been dating a month, instead of married for six.  

A very tall, bearded man in an apron comes towards your table and passes you both menus, giving you yours first. He smiles at you and looks down at your cleavage. Though you don’t notice this, Kit definitely does. He gives the man a dominant glare, but the waiter doesn’t seem intimidated. After a few minutes, you both order what you’d like, and it soon comes. Kit seems a bit off for the whole meal, occasionally looking at the waiter and tensing his jaw. You ignore this, not only being turned on by Kit’s sudden jealousy but also knowing that it’s not a big deal. The waiter only looked and it didn’t even make you uncomfortable. You hold Kit’s hand from across the table and eat your food, trying to calm him down. The real trouble doesn’t come until the bill does.

The same waiter comes to your table and looks at Kit’s uniform. He places the bill in front of him with an amused expression.

“It’s about 20 dollars…hope that’s not too much for you”. He laughs.

Kit looks at him angry and puts his hand in his pocket. He pats around and puts his other hand in his other pocket. After a few seconds, he slowly looks at you and you smile at him, reaching down to your purse and taking out your wallet. The waiter looks down at Kit and rolls his eyes, smiling, clearly amused that he was right.

You take 20 dollars out of your purse and hand it over, and keeps playing footsie with Kit under the table, which he doesn’t reciprocate this time.

“Ain’t it nice for your lady to spoil you like this”, the waiter chuckles and takes the money from you, along with the bill. You can almost feel Kit’s blood boiling from across the table as he looks at the cocky waiter. Before Kit can say anything, the waiter winks at you and leaves. Kit stares at you angry and grabs your arm, before promptly walking out of the diner and towards his car. Once you both sit down in the car, Kit notices his wallet on his windshield, that he clearly forgot to take with him.

Kit drives home, angry and embarrassed and you say nothing to make him feel better. You didn’t expect Kit to react so aggressively to not being able to pay one single bill. You open your mouth, trying to find comforting words to say before Kit forcefully slaps his hand down on your thigh, making you gasp. Instead of gentle affectionate touches, he grabs your thigh and squeezes it, and keeps a tight grip on it while he drives home.

Once you arrive home and both walk in, Kit slams the door and stomps over to you.

“Do you enjoy embarrassing me?”, he barks at you. Kit never shouted and especially never at you. Any arguments that you ever had were more focussed on fixing problems in the relationship than taking out your anger on each other.

You laugh at him sarcastically. “It’s not a big deal, what was I meant to do? Not pay? Have them call the police because your ego won’t allow me to pay?”. You sit down on the bar stool in the kitchen and face him. He rubs his face listening to you and when you’re finished, walks over to you and puts his arm on the counter beside you.

“If you hadn’t worn this dress and caught his attention in the first place, it wouldn’t have been as embarrassing that I can’t pay”.

Your mouth automatically opens hearing his words, and you huff. When he puts his other arm on the counter, trapping you in, you push him away and stand up.

“But you liked the dress when I was dressed up for you!”, you raise your voice at him, for the first time. “Is it my fault other men have eyes too?”

You storm away into your bedroom and take it off, throwing the dress on the bed angrily. Although it was ridiculous, you were almost angry at the dress for making you look good. You take out a top and shorts to wear around the house, and as you begin dressing up, you hear Kit’s footsteps coming towards your bedroom. Not as angry and fast as a few minutes ago. Now loud and slow stomps, coming in the room and walks up behind you. He grabs the top that you’re about to put on and throws it on the bed. He puts his hands on your waist and leans into your ear.

“I think you need to be reminded who you belong to”.

His dominant words send a shiver up your spine. You turn around to look at Kit, but he straight away uses the grip on your waist to turn back around and push you on the bed, falling face first. He quickly rips your underwear off and throws them behind him, not caring where they end up. You gasp at his actions, being way more aggressive and dominant than he’s ever been. Kit’s a pretty vanilla guy and you would never have thought that he’s capable of talking that dirty, let alone treating you like this. You close your eyes and bite your lip, feeling enjoying the tingles on your thighs and between them. You push your face against the bed, anxious and ready for Kit’s next bold move. And it quickly arrives, in the form of a sharp slap against your ass cheeks. You flinch and gasp as it hits, each large hand of Kit’s slapping a cheek and leaving a slightly red mark on you. He spreads your legs forcefully and kneels on the bed behind you, unbuckling his belt. You bite down on your lip, feeling the tingles from the spank warm you up on the inside. He puts his arms on either side of your shoulders, and you admire his veiny strong arms and hands. He leans down to your face and looks you dead in the eye, with his already black eyes darker than usual and his jaw tense and sharp.

“You’re gonna regret buying that dress when I’m done with you”.

[bluebellhairpin]

Haikyuu Headcanons - PDA

A/N: I don’t know where this came from, BUT,,,, Serotonin dosage is Complete. Ready for your injection? - Nemo

Masterlist  

Daichi Sawamura

He tones down his clingy-ness around other people. Let’s say that. 

He does not want to make anyone uncomfortable, and knowing the team, he doesn’t want to draw too much attention either encase that makes you uncomfortable. 

HoWeVer,,, that just means he restrains himself to hand-holding, arm around your shoulder, and forehead kisses. 

Sometimes he goes more than that, but only on special occasions, or if he’s really missed you.

If you asked him nicely and battered your eyelashes at him he’d probably groan a little then chuckle and give you a lil peck on the lips. 

Only and I mean only if you asked.

If I haven’ stressed this enough, his main goal is you being comfortable, which would mean the amount of PDA he does would depend on you and how much you are comfortable with - as well as who else is around. 

If it’s Suga or the likes of Tsuki, he’s more comfortable with PDA, because he know’s (for their own reasons) that they both couldn’t give two sh- 

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Tsukishima Kei

He’s - 

Good grief, i CAN’T EVEN EXPLAIN BRO

It’s either he’s initiating it, in some way that’s got Tsuki written all over it (ie. resting his arm on your damn head) or he’s teasing you about being needy (ie. that one time you held his hand while waiting for Yamaguchi outside a store).

All good-natured though. He would rather die than have hurt you in some way (especially with his words, because damn if that tongue ain’t the sharpest object on this earth), not that he’d ever admit it though. Duh.

His PDA can come across as a bit blunt, or harsh, but he’s just doing his best.

Even around Yamaguchi it barely goes further than hand-holding. 

He makes up for it when you’re alone, or where he feels more comfortable. Don’ worry ‘bout it. 

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Asahi Azumane

Don’t. Just don’t. 

Do not pressure him, do not force it on him. 

Given time, he will become more open to it, and he will greatly enjoy it too, but especially early on in a relationship he isn’t a PDA type of guy.

Not because he doesn’t want it, no no no, but because he is baby and can’t handle the attention. 

He stutters, blushes, and mind goes blank if you so much as accidentally brush your hand with his, like - That’s How Much He Can’t Handle It. 

Once he is comfortable, however, he will even do so much as give you a  little hug and kiss your cheek in front of the team, and that’s how you know he loves you - because he’s grown to learn to become comfortable with it, because then he can show to others how much he loves you.

He’s just really precious, please don’t @ me. 

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Sugawara Koushi

This lil bastard,,, I sweAR- 

Once you’ve given him an OK to go ahead with any type of PDA, he will do it, and he will do it as often as he pleases, or as you allow. 

I’m not saying that a PDA war between you both had happened more than once or twice, but it has. 

He generally isn’t bothered by any particular type of PDA - 

- but god forbid you squish his cheeks in your hands to give him a smooch in front of the boys. If there’s any way to get him red and flustered THAT IS IT GUYS!!!

Lock up that info and keep it safe!!! 

It’s not because it embarrasses him (okay, maybe slightly) but the fact you were so forward about it?? 

Get’s him every time. 

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Ukai Keishin

Let’s get one thing straight with this man, his view on PDA changed to accommodate two *social* settings.

The first is when he’s ‘Coach Ukai’, and the other one is just plain ‘Ukai’. 

Literally the only difference is that he’s a lot less forward and more professional (pfffft boy, you scoff at him every time when he pulls that) when he’s coaching.

Basically he just tries to hide the kisses, soft touches, and pining glances when he’s with the Karasuno team.

If the scoffing didn’t tell you, he doesn’t do a very good job at it.

If you’re with him in the shop, he’ll be just the same as he is at home. Very comfortable. Very much like a married-couple. 

The customers don’t really mind. There’s a couple old ladies, and when they come in they always ask after you once they’ve bought their stuffs. They’re very pleased when you pop out the back room to say hi. They’re very sweet. 

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Oikawa Tooru

If you came into my house and told me that Oikawa didn’t crave attention, and burst to tears the first time you gave him so much as a cuddle and a peck on the cheek then we already have problems.

Because he did.

And you can pry that out of the cold, dead fingers of my rotting corpse. 

Being closed doors he’s basically all over you, but outside he tones it done a fair amount.

That being said, he’s still not as subtle about it as the likes of Daichi, in fact he’s probably one of the more contact-oriented of all the boys’ even if he’s not asking for it.

He pines. all the time.

If he’s not touching you, he wants to hold you hand. If he’s holding your hand, he wants to have an arm around you waist. If his arm’s around you waist, he want’s you sitting in his lap.

It’s an endless cycle, and I pray that you’re ready for it. 

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Kuroo Tetsurou

He’s all about the casual PDA, man. 

Subtle touches and ‘accidental’ hand brushes were probably how the whole relationship started, and just because you’re dating DOES NOT mean he’s going to stop.

He does need to be sweet in among all the teasing, you know!

He’s a romantic, that's what it comes down to. 

He explicitly remembers going to a carnival with you, and waiting in line for a ride to finish so you both could have a go. It came very natural to him to lean up behind you and rest his head on your shoulder. When you leaned back into him he d i e d 

He’s very comfortable around you, and others, so he has zero problem just vibing in your general area or being all up-in-your face, depending on what you like.

Respectful boi

He likes you, and he’s a casually tactile-type of person. Sometimes he can forget some people don’t like it, but he always manages to remember what you allow. 

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Tanaka Ryunosuke 

Contrary to what some may think, he’s actually very patient if it comes to having to wait for you to get comfortable with PDA.

He would wait until you were both old and grey before you held his hand in public if he had to.

but please don’t make him he just wants to show you off

He’s very proud of himself for getting an s/o, and he looks at you like you hung the stars because you’re with him.

But as soon as you give him an ok?

All over you. All the time. 

He *loves* you, and he needs to make sure you always know that, and that Noya knows that, and Daichi knows, and other teams know, and that everyone knows! 

Listen, I like Tanaka a lot, so I’m trying to manifest him best I can because god dammit he deserves some cuddles every half hour, on the dot. 

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Bokuto Kotaro

He needs PDA. And no, I’m not just saying that.

Oh, you disagree? Have you even seen the show? This guy craves validation, and if his s/o doesn’t give it to him then he’s l o s t.

However much he may act cool about it when asking for a little smooch or cuddle in public, if it’s given to him he will melt, then short-circuit, and then it’s like someone boosted him with adrenaline and he cannot stop blabbering about random stuff and holding you close. 

It’s a wild and slightly dramatic process, but that’s just Bokuto for you.

He - SJKSJSSSS

He probably has a bet with himself for how many times his PDA get’s you to smile everyday. (The record is twelve times, and everytime he breaks the record he takes you both out for meat buns.)

The PDA is mostly just hand holding and lil’ kisses, but they make his day, every time.

He’s a simple person. 

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Nishinoya Yuu

This boy, this male, he will worship the ground you walk on. 

Let him. 

Please.

He’ll mostly come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist and bury his face in your back/neck. It’s surprising, but it’s nice because you know it’s always him. You have to pry him off with the promise of a kiss, though, otherwise he ain’t moving. 

He’s always so excited to see you, like a little puppy, and if that cannot even light a spark of happiness in Tsuki’s heart then he has no hope left. 

His love for you is contagious. He doesn’t even need to be touching you to express PDA, like - how does he even do that? It that normal? Is he normal?

He giggles whenever you kiss his nose, so of course you do it in front of the team! his giggles are a blessing! Why would you keep them all to yourself? Blushy Noya ehehehe

He’s really cute Everytime he sees you, everyone knows, because he yells “HEYYY BABYYYYYY!” in the exact same voice he uses for ‘Rolling Thunda’. There is n o e s c a p e ! 

[letsfluxshitup]

​Technoblade Learns How To Relax (now on ao3)

Tommy's face became more and more contemplative as he guided Quackity to the ravine dubbed Pogtopia. 

He led him down the winding stairs at a pace that had Quackity fumbling to keep up with. 

On the last step, Quackity stumbled, heading face first into the dirt before an arm caught him around the waist.

"I told you we needed the guard rails." A voice huffed from behind him.

Quackity thrashed violently, whipping around and ending up on the ground anyways, staring up at the Blade himself.

"Oh! Technoblade-- Mr. Blade, sir, I didn't see you there--" Quackity stuttered, scrambling to his feet. He slipped twice on the gravel before Tommy took pity on him and offered him a hand.

Quackity took it, allowing himself to be dragged up before slightly frantically brushing off his jacket. He scrubbed at the mounting flush on his face, refusing to be embarrassed, and waved away Tommy's concern.

Tommy broke the silence, abruptly clearing his throat.

"Right- anyways, I was just showing Big Q around. He’s with us now, you know." Tommy nodded self-assuredly, glancing between Quackity and Techno.

Techno just nodded, making a noise half agreement half dismissive.

"I'll be in the--" Techno started before Tommy interrupted him, fisting a hand in Techno's cape.

"He needs a room to stay in! We don't have enough, we're going to have to share. I was thinking he could stay with Wilbur but he's a little uh..." Tommy trailed off, scratched at his chin before gesturing vaguely. "You know?" 

"I know." Techno sighed, turning to face them. "He can stay with me."

"No that's-- that's not necessary, I can just-- I wouldn't want to inconvenience you--" Quackity started, praying the panic in his tone wasn't too noticeable.

Techno just gave him a leering smile, too much teeth and tusk to be considered anything other than threatening before Tommy smacked him.

"Quit messing with Big Q, he's an ally now, alright?" Tommy said, biting down on a laugh. 

Techno snorted before shoving him in retaliation for the smack and Quackity backed away quickly before he got dragged into the rough-housing.

Finally, Techno ended it, sitting on Tommy's back effectively pinning him to the ground. Tommy flailed wildly before whining out a childish 'uncle', and Techno released him. Tommy got one last jab in before sprinting off deeper into the ravine, laughter echoing off of the walls. 

Quackity wished he hadn't left, the stale air suffocating as Techno eyed him. 

"You like what you see?" Quackity blurted out, before slapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry-- I didn't-- that was an accident I didn't mean to say that, sorry." 

Techno just raised an eyebrow at him, and Quackity just knew he was laughing at him, on the inside at least.

Techno gestured in front of him, a silent request to start walking.

Techno followed close behind, managing to avoid stepping on his heels but still unbearably close. His hand was resting loosely on his sword, did he really expect Quackity to attack him here? In his base, all by himself?

Before he could think more about Techno's paranoid tendencies, like the fact that Techno hadn't turned his back to him once, they stopped at a simple wooden door.

The wood was pockmarked with arrow holes, centering around a makeshift bullseye on the door. Above the bullseye was a crude drawing of Techno, Techno's name carved into the door above it.

"Tommy decorated." Techno deadpanned, gesturing vaguely at the door's decorations. 

Quackity just nodded mutely, following Techno into his room.

The difference between the rest of the ravine and Techno's room was jarring, to say the least.

The floors were meticulously clean, a broom propped up in the corner. 

Everything was shoved to one side, except for the sole bed that was lodged in the far corner, the perfect vantage point to see the door and every part of the room. 

There weren't any nooks or crannies to hide in, everything flush against the wall and on ground level, too short to hide behind.

Every corner of the room was lit up, no shadows to lurk in, no area left in the dark. 

Techno's bed was frameless, mattress box directly on the floor. He wanted to make a teasing remark about being scared of the monsters under your bed but he swallowed it, all the details clicking into place.

Maybe it wasn't monsters but considering everything else, Techno must have considered the space under his bed a security risk. Part of him wanted to poke fun at his paranoia but another part just felt... Sad. 

Did Techno relax? Ever? He couldn't imagine what it must be like, constantly keeping your guard up.

Even now Techno had positioned himself with clear access to the door, and with Quackity at hand’s reach. Well, more accurately, at sword's reach.

Quackity cleared his throat, trying to interrupt the uncomfortable silence they'd settled into. Techno had just quietly watched him look around, and Quackity desperately wished he knew what he was thinking about. His face was as blank and impassive as always.

Finally, Techno spoke.

"Do I need to feed you?" Techno was eyeing him up again, as if he'd be able to tell if he was hungry or not just from looking.

"Uh-- well, I'm a little hungry, but if it's too much trouble don't worry about it, I'll be fine!" Quackity squeaked when Techno abruptly moved forward, hands curling around his shoulders as he nudged him back into a sitting position on a chest.

One of Techno's hands moved from his shoulder to his jaw, forcing his head back slightly.

This was it, Quackity thought, This is where he rips my throat out.

Instead of ripping his throat out, Techno made direct eye contact with him, which was, in Quackity's humble opinion, objectively worse.

Techno broke eye contact first, mouth opening like he was going to say something before his eyes caught on a shallow cut at the base of Quackity's neck.

He'd gotten it on the way to Pogtopia, a skeleton getting a lucky shot on him from the shadows. Thankfully it had barely nicked him, and he hadn't bothered patching it up.

Techno leaned closer to it, forcing Quackity's head farther back, his other hand moving to lightly thumb at it.

Quackity's heart kicked into overdrive, because hey, what the fuck, Technoblade had his sharp ass teeth inches away from his jugular, but he didn't move. 

After another uncomfortably long pause Quackity finally mustered up the courage to speak.

"Am I dying, Doc?" He blurted, twisting his head to try and see Techno's expression.

"Huh? Oh, no. You have a heart shaped mole on your neck." Techno huffed a laugh, warm breath ghosting across his neck and Quackity hadn't realized before how fucking cold it was in the ravine.

Techno moved away after that, and Quackity could breathe easier now that he was less worried about dying. 

Techno still hovered close, though, nearly nose to nose and without thinking Quackity spoke.

"Are we going to kiss?" He mentally slapped himself afterward, but Techno let out a loud snorting laugh as he moved away more. Quackity was slightly proud he'd gotten a genuine laugh from the man but was still absolutely mortified.

As Techno moved away from him to dig in a chest, Quackity mourned the loss of Techno's warmth. He wondered if it had something to do with being half piglin, or if he always naturally ran hot.

Irrationally, Quackity worried that he had a fever, before squashing that down because the piglin theory made a lot more sense than the Great Technoblade catching a cold.

Techno moved around the room quickly, plucking two bowls out of a chest and giving him a look that silently screamed stay there, before he left the room.

He was back minutes later, and he handed Quackity one of the bowls of soup.

Techno plopped on to the floor and without thinking Quackity slipped down to join him. Techno side eyed him, but rested his back against a chest and started eating.

Quackity ate quickly, the food burning his tongue, and if you asked him he'd have no idea what was in it. When he was finished he carefully placed the bowl next to him, and Techno eyed him expectantly.

"More?" Was all he said, and when Quackity shook his head, a muttered no thanks following, Techno shoved bread at him anyways.

"You don't have to eat it now, but it should stay good for a bit. If you want to keep it on you." Techno went back to his soup, expression once again impassive.

Quackity scooped the bread up, tucking it away into one of his bags. He wondered what made Techno give him extra, if worrying about where your next meal would come from was as inherent to him as it was to himself. 

--

Techno lay on his back, eyes closed and breathing even. He doubted Quackity would be able to tell if he was actually awake or not, but he also didn’t have a very good read on Quackity. It was the main reason he’d offered up his room to him, he wasn’t sure what Quackity was capable of so the closer to him the better. 

He didn't know if Quackity could hold his own in a fight, and what if they were invaded in the night? He’d rather be there to protect their weakest link than leave it to the hands of Wilbur or, God forbid, Tommy. Tommy was an adept fighter, sure, but he still hadn’t quite grasped defense over offense, something that would leave Quackity vulnerable.

On the flipside, what if Quackity was a spy? It’d be a lot more difficult to snoop around if Techno was there to watch over him. He was a light sleeper, and his door creaked louder than the others, something he’d never bothered to fix considering it alerted him whenever anyone entered or left. 

Quackity also wasn’t known for being particularly quiet, either. Techno was sure that if anything happened when he was asleep, Quackity’s loud panicking would wake him up instantly.

Speaking of his inability to be quiet, Techno listened to him roll over and shift again, his uncomfortable shuffling capturing Techno’s attention in the relative silence of the room. Techno tilted his head, looking at Quackity. He was curled up on the floor, on a thin mat that Tommy had produced from God knows where. He had the blanket stuffed around himself, shivering slightly. Techno hadn’t realized it had been that cold, his back was pressed against the wall behind him that was unnaturally warm due to the lava pool on the other side of it. 

“Quackity?” Techno said into the quiet of the room, voice hushed.

“Uh, yeah? What’s up?” Quackity’s voice was high pitched, a nervous titter to it. “Was I bothering you? I can leave--”

He’d moved to a sitting position as he spoke, his shoulders tense and looking ready to bolt. 

Techno sighed. Quackity being afraid of him was fun, but also very inconvenient. He gestured at Quackity, beckoning him closer.

Quackity shakily got to his feet, muttering under his breath, this is it, this is the end, this is where he kills me, curse my poor circulation, why do I get cold so easily. 

Quackity stopped next to the bed, and Techno lifted up the blanket with one hand and patted the bed next to him with the other. 

He stared blankly back at him, looking between the spot next to him and his face, expression quizzical. 

“Sleep with me,” Techno huffed, impatient.

“Woah, woah, woah, you seem like a really nice guy but c'mon isn’t this a bit--” Quackity stuttered, looking genuinely surprised and vaguely amused.

At least he doesn’t look afraid, Techno thought absently.

“Not like that. If you’re cold we can share, the bed’s big enough for the both of us.”

Quackity studied him again, rocking back and forth on his heels before letting out a sigh and shrug in the personification of fuck it, and slipping into the bed next to Technoblade.

Techno studied Quackity, frowning before scooting closer.

“Climb over me, the wall gives off heat. You’ll be warmer over there.” 

After a bit of fumbling and a push from Techno that was more of a drag, Quackity ended up on his other side. 

Techno squinted at him again, before dragging Quackity back into his chest. Quackity huffed, offended that Techno could manhandle him so easily. He wasn’t tiny, it was unfair how strong Techno was.  

Techno’s arms wrapped loosely around him, he hooked his head over his shoulder.

“Aw, I didn’t take you as the cuddling type,” Quackity teased, pressing his cold feet against whatever part of Techno they could reach.

Techno huffed again, and Quackity wondered how many emotions he could express with just a huff. 

“It’s not cuddling.” Techno readjusted his arms, absently rubbing warmth back into Quackity’s cold fingers, “It’s a tactical advantage.”

“Oh? Well, sorry to say, buddy, but your tactical advantage is crushing my wings.”

“Wings?” Techno echoed, abruptly pulling away. Quackity’s face scrunched in displeasure at the rush of cold air that met his back as Techno sat up to look down at him.

Quackity sat up too, unzipping his jacket. Techno eyed him warily for a second, before impatiently tugging at his jacket, trying to lean around him to get a look. A wing hit him in the face then, fluttering slightly before folding back against Quackity’s back. Quackity squeaked, looking terrified but desperately trying to hold back laughter.

“You need to groom your wings,” Techno finally said, after Quackity’s laughter faded.

“Hey, hey, you don’t just comment on a man’s wings!” Quackity’s voice pitched upwards, defensive as he crossed his arms and his wings puffed up slightly, only accentuating the issue. They were small, smaller than Philza’s certainly, and Techno doubted that Quackity could actually get any air time from them. 

They were kind of cute though, Techno thought. Objectively, of course.

“What if I spoon you--” Quackity started, only to be cut off by a petulant Technoblade.

“It wasn’t spooning. It was tactical. If someone came in here and saw me, they’d likely leave you alone. I doubt you made any friends when you defected from Manberg, and you’re kind of an easy target.” As if to accentuate his point he gestured vaguely at, well, all of Quackity, and Quackity’s wings puffed out again, expressive now that they weren’t trapped under a jacket.

“I resent that,” Quackity said in response, sticking his tongue out at him. 

“Alrighty, if you want a tactical advantage what if we hit 'em with one of these--” Quackity abruptly flopped across Techno, throwing an arm across his chest. Without thinking Techno’s arm came up, catching him across the throat and shoving him backwards against the wall.

“Sorry-- I didn’t mean that, sorry.” Techno pulled away quickly, straightening Quackity’s shirt and fixing his hair, hands dancing nervously across his chest.

“It’s alright,” Quackity rasped. “You’re a bit jumpy, that’s fine, we can work with that.”

Quackity waved away Techno’s mother henning, before slowly lowering himself against Techno’s side. 

“This alright?” He murmured, moving so he was laying across Techno’s chest, head on his collarbone. 

Techno curled an arm around Quackity’s waist in lieu of a response, careful to avoid his wings.

Quackity opened his mouth to comment on it, but Techno beat him to the punch.

“This isn’t cuddling. It’s a tactical advantage. Now you can’t sneak away without me knowing, how do we know that you aren’t a spy? I don’t know if I can trust you, yet.”

“You don’t trust me, buddy? We’re literally snuggling in your bed.” Quackity snorted.

“It’s not snuggling, it's a--”

“Tactical advantage, right, I know.” 

“Anyways, I know I could take you in a fight. You aren’t a threat to me.” Techno continued, as if Quackity hadn’t said anything. 

“You don’t know that--” Quackity started before Techno moved to make eye contact with him, a single eyebrow raised. “Ok, you’re probably right, but I think I could get, like, one lucky shot in, you know?”

“Sure,” Techno said dismissively, patting Quackity’s hip placatingly. His hand moved to rubbing up and down Quackity’s back and Quackity realized how tired he was. It’d been a long day, with a lot of running and the fighting with Schlatt took a lot out of him. 

Schlatt.

He was sure the man had already forgotten about him, labelled him a traitor and a coward, but Quackity couldn’t stop thinking. He tried to focus on Techno’s steady breathing, to ignore the rising memories from his earlier fight, but it was too much. He finally felt like he could think again, wasn’t panicking or in survival mode. Had he done the right thing? Had he made the right choice? 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a sharp tug to one of his feathers.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Techno murmured, smoothing the ruffled feathers back into place. “I’ll protect you from whatever’s got you all flustered, just go to sleep.”

Quackity huffed, but buried his face into Techno’s neck anyways, curling their legs together.

“Fine. Didn’t realize Grandpa had such an early bedtime,” Quackity mocked, earning him another warning tug on his feathers. He smothered his snort against Techno, before sighing out a quiet good night.

Techno just hummed, eyelids growing heavy, surprised that he was comfortable enough to sleep.

[dangan-imagine-plus]

Hello! Could you please do something for Fuyuhiko, Gundham, Kokichi and Shuichi? Getting protective/defensive over a shy and timid fem reader. Thank you!

warnings: Swearing and mentions of being hit on by people unconsenually.

First imagine on this blog! Hope you like it! Sorry it took so long, accidentally got distracted 😅. I’m also sorry but for not doing Shuichi but I couldn’t imagine him being that assertive, however you can send it back in with only Shuichi and maybe one of the other mods will do it. -Mod Ouma 💜

Fuyuhiko Kuzuruya 

You and Fuyuhiko are an interesting match-up: a quiet shy girl and a loud angry yakuza, needless to say people were surprised by your relationship, but you two were happy so no one really made any comments, especially because this is Fuyuhiko we’re talking about.

Fuyuhiko honestly tries to keep you away from everything that could frighten you or hurt you in any way. Enlisting Peko when he couldn’t be around or when both of them were busy, getting his most trusted bodyguard to look after you. He loves you more than he could ever admit to your face but he shows that in protection and his own special way.

Today you guys went to a new amusement park that showed up for an event, -you had to beg Fuyuhiko to go- and you saw a stuffed animal that you just HAD to have. So as the strong boyfriend he was, he decided he would win it for you.

This particular day Fuyuhiko didn’t employ bodyguards to look over you because, “I’m the ultimate yakuza damnit and I’ll be damned if I can’t protect you myself.” Just one problem, some creepy man had noticed you and started commenting on your looks when Fuyuhiko was busy.

The vendor had handed your boyfriend the plush and he turned around, the sight that greeted him, filling him with anger. You being almost cornered by this guy, looking obviously highly uncomfortable but too timid to reject most of his advances.

What really pushed him over the edge is the man's hand on your arm, while he said a sexual pickup line.

“OI! DIPSHIT! Get Your Fucking Hand OFF OF HER!!!” This boy is pissed. The man just bent down and retorted “Didn’t you ever learn to respect your elders little boy?”

Fuyuhiko while fuming, kicked the man in one of his kneecaps then as the man fell to the ground he grabbed your arm putting you behind him (despite your height). He got out his phone and made a call, almost instantaneously Peko arrived and you two walked out of the festival.

“Fucking hell, The Fucking Audacity Of Some Dickheads!!!” Needs you to calm him down, hold his arm, too angry for an actual hug.

Gundham Tanaka 

Gundham isn’t afraid to challenge someone or speak up, so whenever you need it he’s there. Additionally with his mindset, Gundham genuinely believes that you two are royalty to the dark world and he will do anything to protect his queen, whether that includes speaking for you, help build confidence or keeping you as safe and protected as a royal should be without overwhelming you too much. 

You personally weren’t an ultimate but that doesn’t mean Tanaka would treat you any differently, he actually found it quite nice, usually his class would be in all types of trouble, so being able to be with someone who is naturally calm and doesn’t cause much a ruckus is perfect for him, and he loves to relax with you, especially after a long day.

Gundham once warmed up, likes talking about his problems and what happened that day. That means you always have an interesting story which always interests you, but listening to these stories makes you want to experience them. Asking Gundham to accompany him to school one day was easy but the convincing was a little harder as he knew that you might get hurt or have something happen to you so naturally he was apprehensive.

“My dark queen, the mortal class I reside in is not one that fits the requirements for your godly presence. It will be worse than the 4th layer of hell, I shall not taint your beauty with mortal ignorance.”

However after enough reassurance he eventually let you come with him, of course checking with hope’s peak first. As you know though, Hope's peak will do anything to further the students talents so if you help him do that, then they will let you there any day. 

When you first got there, all the girls gawked over you and asked how Gundham got someone so level headed and pretty, a little jealousy from Sonia, but she seemed to get over it pretty quickly. Gundham had to pull you away from the crowd before you got too overwhelmed however and the problem started with the perverts.

“Bonjour sweet cupcake, would you like to take a dip in my fros-” Teruteru gets punched in the face as he tries to flirt with you by Hiyoko. “You’re hotter than a malfunctioning engine.” Soda pipes in before Gundham pulls you away from them both towards the door.

 “If you mere mortals cannot respect my lady then we shall vacate the filthy premises.” He stops, lets go of your hand and gets real close to the two boys “If I shall witness thee talk about the queen of darkness again, my twelve zodiac generals will teach you fowl perverts a great lesson about respect.”

Kokichi Ouma 

A shy and timid S/O, oh you mean a perfect teasing buddy. Seriously he will do lots for the sole purpose of making you flustered, however he’s the only one allowed to do so. If anyone (namely Miu) tries to do anything like that ooh boy will it be a messy situation. Lots of insults and bad (like mentally hurting) pranks thrown their way. 

However if you are in a relationship with this man, especially if he trusts you, he will protect you, lie for you, talk for you and really do anything for you. Lets be honest here, no one really expected you two to be together, with all the flirting with Saihara most if not all just assumed he was gay. That paired with your personality really shocked everyone, it just didn't seem very likely.

He tried to keep your relationship private because of multiple factors whether that be safety from the danger of the organization, because he most likely has enemies. Personal image, not that that matters more than you, but as the ultimate supreme leader he can’t be seen as weak or soft. Kokichi also didn’t want to be put in a position where he had to choose you or something else, so be patient, a relationship with Kokichi isn’t going to be easy. That’s why he loves you even more, because you still stay with him despite all this.

(Sorry got off track there)

 Nonetheless it got out and people knew now. Kokichi likes PDA, mostly for showing everyone who you “belong” to, since they know of your relationship. God forbid someone flirt with you, Kokichi gets really mad at the person and though he doesn't show it too much, he will insult and mess with the person so much mentally, it’s not fun at all.

This showed especially one day when you were at lunch waiting for Kokichi in both of your free periods, a DICE rival they pranked one too many times. He came up to you sitting down and pretty obviously bad mouthing Kokichi, trying to convince you, he could give you so much more than Kokichi ever could, and that he’d never hide you. 

Kokichi however had just walked into earshot of the dude, catching every word and getting extremely upset, part of him wondering if that was true, could he really give you more than the supreme leader. Besides what he was wondering, he also saw you, extremely uncomfortable looking like a bunny being hunted by a predator. Trying to inch your way away from him, choosing to stay silent, but the boy just wouldn’t give up, moving closer and upping the ‘dump him, date me’ talk. 

Kokichi calmly walked over, grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him, landing you in his chest, looking at the male with an unexplainable expression. Looking back to you he said “Crackerjack, you know, talking to shit eating toilets isn’t sanitary.” he turned to the man, face darkened, grin widened and the iconic finger over his mouth. “I hope you choke on the shit you talk, fucking hoe.”

[studioxlii]

18 and Junhee pls!! Xx

"to be fully seen by somebody, then, be loved anyhow is a human offering that can border on miraculous."

proof read: kinda

warnings: none

note(s): the format might be garbage, im mobile.

Love is a weird thing but so are the conditions that come with it; the limits that people decide need to be in place. You understood boundaries or not wanting to take too many steps before you knew the relationship would hold but some things never sat right with you. It took a few years but it wasn't until you overheard some of your project group talking that it finally hit you; most people you knew didn't want to date their best friends for two reasons.

1. It could ruin their friendship. This reason was obvious and of course you understood.

2. They'd seen way too much.

You remember hearing those words and your head lifting, confused and wondering what that could even mean. When you were in a relationship that would eventually progress, weren't they just going to see those things anyway? You never could let that thought go, not once you decided that would only make it better; it would make a relationship stronger. Well, in your eyes.

Dating was something that seemed to come easier to you before those thoughts started polluting your mind; no one seemed to understand or see you in a way you really wanted. The ideal person for you was someone who saw everything; the bad days, the good days and the maybe okay but not so great days. It was really starting to mess with you. By not wanting to date certain friends, were you restricting yourself from the relationship you really wanted?

Only one person, one friend, knew you better than you knew yourself, you were positive of that. Your best friend of nine years, Junhee, had probably been through almost every bad thing possible in life with you. You began recalling all the situations you'd been in with each other that were memorable; the things you wouldn't have faced with anyone else because you didn't want anyone else to see.

'Do you remember when you got your belly button pierced?'

And that's when it began.

The question came out of nowhere, breaking the silence of your apartment and leaving Junhee to look up from his book confused and blinking. 'Uh.. yes?' His response came out slow, hesitant like he was missing some weird in-between the lines meaning of the question.

Your head tilted, finally looking over at him. 'Do you remember the way you squeezed my hand to the point it was purple because it hurt so bad you nearly passed out?'

His features flushed at the ridiculous memory being forced back into his head. 'You mean the same day you had to cling to me, crying because your first tattoo felt like your leg was being seared off?'

You hated crying in front of people for any reason but you couldn't go alone; you'd never go alone for something like that. You just nodded in response before returning to your own book, continuing to read like you hadn't brought the subject up at all.

Your first date after you began recalling things and getting far too deep in what could only be sentimental thoughts went okay. A friend of your friend's, Sehyoon, who was an art major and knew of you but didn't know you; he'd never really integrated himself into the small friend circle on campus but Byeongkwan spoke highly of him.

He was sweet; a gentleman. Pretty much anything you could really ask for but you noticed little things; minute things that didn't even matter. You felt like you were being unreasonable or judgmental despite only picking out things that didn't match. Didn't match what, exactly?

He wasn't Junhee.

The realization had you suddenly shooting up from your seat, interrupting the poor male's answer to your question about his major and spilling out several apologies as you even fought to put money down for your own food. It took quite a few more 'I'm really sorry's before you were speeding out of the small restaurant; you'd make sure to call him later.

You found yourself in the only place that made sense: banging hard on the door of the RA for your building, hardly caring if you disturbed anyone else.

'What?' was the greeting you received from a very frustrated Donghun, wanting nothing more than to be left alone again. And yes, you called each other your friend.

'We have a really, really big problem.'

Being a mutual friend and despite not wanting to get involved in anyone's "drama", he spent two hours talking you out of it, down from it and against it, reminding you just why your newfound feelings for your best friend were a problem. He even reminded you of your comment, three years ago, about how you could never possibly like Junhee; how he remembered that and you didn't, you didn't care to ask.

You returned home a wreck, tired and wanting to burn your own emotions. Were you really uncovering some unconsciously buried feelings or did you just like the fact that he /saw/ you? He'd seen you nearly on your deathbed sick.

He'd seen you living in a depression nest for two weeks, barely able to get out a bed and eating nothing but honey buns and cereal.

He'd seen you grieve family members and pets; seen you walk into the rain and scream at the top of your lungs because of how lost in despair you'd been.

He'd seen you drunk and stupid; he'd seen you the night after a one night stand and hungover to the point you wanted to fight the sun.

He'd sat by you absolutely throwing your guts up.

He had seen every single side of you and you'd seen the same from him but it only started to stack further and further.

You knew his favorite songs because God forbid he only have one. You knew his favorite color, favorite food and his weird retirement plan that involved a tiny petting zoo of his own that he refused to just call a farm. Your pins for everything were each other's birthdates and he was the only other name on your bank account. Why?

Staring down at the menu you'd seen over a hundred times, you were sure, you couldn't decide on just what sounded good and part of you just wanted everything. Those moments staring at words that started to blur, you noticed Junhee hadn't touched his menu and kept shifting around, visibly uncomfortable for reasons you couldn't possible figure out.

'It's unlike you to not be going off about the food here.. or already having ordered your favorite drink that, I recall, you said you'd die without if you didn't have it every time you came here,' you began, closing the menu and setting it down with narrowed eyes, 'what's going on?'

'It's stupid. Just.. order and get some food, I'll probably just eat later. I'm not really hungry.'

That was a bold faced lie and you knew it, the concern growing. 'And, what's the oh-so-stupid reason, exactly?'

It took him a minute, shifting more and acting like a child who had gotten in trouble. 'I, uh.. I can't really..' he gestured around, lips pursed and growing even more upset by the second, you could tell by the way he was trying to stop himself from frowning. 'Can't really afford it.' You were college students, it wasn't the world's biggest secret if you couldn't afford something.

'Do you really think I'm just going to eat in front of you?' You snorted, avoiding any comment that would further his being upset over the situation, 'Don't worry about it and order, okay?'

Financial struggles were no quiet matter between the two of you and never had been since you started school. Junhee lived off campus in an apartment with two shitty roommates, a terrible part time job and parents that pretty much didn't care if he perished on the side of the street somewhere. You, on the other hand, which you didn't like bringing up, were doing fine but only because your parents dropped something of an 'allowance' into your account for foods and necessities.

You ignored his attempt to argue and told him if he didn't order something, you were going to do it for him; he shut up.

The next day, you took a trip to the bank.

You could feel eyes on you as you splayed across the couch, staring at the ceiling and contemplating life and all of it's annoyances. No question left you but even if you wanted to say something, you were cut off.

'So, are you going to tell me what's going on? For the past.. three weeks? You've been asking me all sorts of weird stuff,' Junhee inquired, frowning thoughtfully, 'Are you testing me or something? Trust me, yes, I remember every single second I've spent with you. I remember every word you've said, the names of every guy you've been with and the ones I'd like to fight. I remember every birthday and gift I've given you and the ones you've given me. Yes, I remember your favorite things and everything so, what's the deal?'

It sounded sentimental at first but then you noticed that all too familiar waiver in his voice and out of the corner of your eye, you noticed his hands fiddling with the chain bracelet that had adorned his wrist for five years; he wanted to cry. A crying Junhee was something no one ever wanted on your hands and you briefly recalled a phone call from a very panicked Byeongkwan because of just that but you were letting your thoughts get off topic.

'I think I'm in love with you.'

'If you don't want to be fri-'

You were both cut off as your head turned to finally look at him, soaking in the unreadable expression on his features when someone busted through the door; 'Look!'

Both of you looked towards your two friends that invited themselves into your door, one holding a new cat and the other looking just as pleased with the announcement but it gradually dropped. 'Shit, did we interrupt something?' Of course, you always knew when you finally and truly confessed to someone that it would be Byeongkwan who ruined the whole thing; you used it as an escape, though, reminding yourself of what the confession could do to your friendship.

'New minion, I see,' you chimed, sitting up and ignoring the question, both of them, as you rose to greet Donghun's new pet. You were ignorant to the looks shared between the three boys and you were happy about that.

Now, you just had to avoid it ever coming up again until it was forgotten.

Junhee, however, didn't want that to happen.

After about an hour of chitchatting and ignoring the gaze of your best friend, you excused yourself under the excuse of having a meetup for a class, despite it being your dorm, and managed to weasel your way out. There was really nowhere to go, no one to talk to and you surely didn't have any plans for the next week; you ended up at the café on campus. It was quiet and filled mostly with a few students doing work and the two members of staff behind the counter, one eventually joining you at the table. He didn't say anything, waited for you to stop your dramatic Disney scene and acknowledge him.

'Would you date me, Yu?'

Taken a bit off guard, he ended up snorting. 'I can't tell if this is a trap or you want the genuine answer,' he replied, crossing his arms atop the table, 'but, on the hand that it's serious.. probably. I mean, I definitely wouldn't turn you down. We've known each other for a few years, hang out on a regular basis.. get along and have a lot of similar interests. So, yeah.'

The answer made your lips draw into a deep frown and you tapped your fingers against the cup, soaking up every word. 'Even though we're friends? What if we broke up?'

A soft 'ah' came from him as he realized what was really going on and he shrugged, thinking it over for a minute or two. 'We're both adults and I don't believe either of us would do something so that the breakup would be something that could ruin our friendship. I understand it would be like.. friends then it being intimate then back to friends, but I think both of us are mature enough to deal with that and not let it bother us too much.' He spoke like he'd been through it several times and in reality, it had only been once, a small fling with a mutual friend but they still seemed pretty okay. 'Is this about Jun?'

'Does everyone know?' You groaned out, releasing the cup to lean back and rub your hands over your face in defeat, 'I.. I told him I think I love him then Kwan and Donghun showed up and I bailed because now I don't actually want to face him or admit to ever actually saying it. I do! I do love him! I don't.. I don't want to lose him, you know?'

You could see the way the latter looked at you, sympathetic and calculating what words wouldn't just stress you out further. 'Look.. I know you don't want to hear it from me or anyone else for that matter because you want to keep saying it'll ruin your friendship when in reality, you don't like the idea that you could hurt each other, I was the same way with Donghun, so I understand.. but, you should really see all this from an outsider's point of view. Junhee looks at you like you hung the moon and you look at him like he painted the stars; yes, it's been like that since I've met you and a reminder, it's been years. I don't know what took you so long to realize it or if you've just avoided it this whole time but anyone would have to be blind not to see it. Now,' he sighed deeply as he finished and straightened, 'I think you should probably go and talk to him about it considering you just confessed then ditched but it's your choice. I don't think you have anything to worry about.. for either of you. You're the most loyal person I know, so I have no doubt you'd ever hurt him in a way that would ruin you guys and he can barely swat at a fly or sit still through hearing thunder, you think he's going to do something? Regardless.. one of these days, soon, you'll have to face it and I really hope you don't go into it with the cliché reason of your friendship being ruined.'

The words sank in slow and you wanted nothing but to cry your eyes out because he was right; he always was and you hated it. It took a while for you to speak and he seemed okay with that, briefly leaving you to fill a couple orders before returning. 'I know you're leaving for break tomorrow.. tell him before then.' Those were his last words before he bid you good luck and a good night, heading back to his own dorm, most likely to call Donghun now that he'd projected just a little bit.

Irrationality was a word that would be in your character description box and the word stupid could very well be right next to it because when you got home, you packed your bag and decided to leave early, not bothering to let any of your friends know. You needed time and you were being selfish, so selfish to the point you thought maybe he'd just hate you when you got back.

Oh boy were you wrong.

Two days into being back home and confiding in your mother who promptly smacked you upside the back of the head, you found yourself sitting on the porch and moping, split between what to do. You suspected the boys were a bit angry with you when you noticed the ample amount of texts, voicemails, social messages and phone calls that had gone ignored; you caught a glimpse of the absolute book Yuchan took the time to send you, leaving you kind of scared to even open it. It didn't take long for the guilt to set in but you chose to wait until you were back on campus to deal with it.

Or at least, that was your plan.

'So, I know you've never been a fan of confrontation but.. you've never been the type to run away.'

The sudden voice startled you as you hadn't even noticed anyone pull up and of course, upon looking up, you were met with the face you were trying to avoid the most. Junhee stood at the end of the sidewalk looking pitiful and shifting his weight in a nervous manner. You didn't bother trying to speak, not knowing what to say but you did wait for the rant, the berating that you deserved; that wasn't who he was though.

He even stayed quiet for a minute or two, making his way closer to sit on the steps, looking up towards your figure. 'Did you mean it?'

You could have answered right away, poured your heart out and let out the tears you'd been holding in since the moment you left. Instead, you stayed quiet and pulled your knees closer to your chest, not trusting your own voice. He didn't relent though, reaching out to lightly nudge your knee.

'That's all I need to know.. did you mean it? If.. if you didn't I can just leave and we don't have to bother with it again.'

'And, if I did..?' Finally finding your voice, you looked over to him, chewing hard on your lower tier, nervous and kind of wanting to throw up.

You could see him thinking it over before a faint smile showed up. 'I'd most likely cry.. but I'm going to cry either way,' he began, shrugging his shoulders while moving up to sit next to you, 'I'd also tell you that I love you, too and I've been trying to tell you that for years now.'

The confession made your heart flutter, your skin burn and the butterflies being kept back burst in delight in your gut. 'Even.. after everything we've been through? Everything you've seen..?'

Junhee nodded. 'Mhm. I'd go through it all again and what do you mean? I've seen nothing but you.'

[iwach4n]

Teams Being Protective Of Manager Reader

happy birthday @ronnie-but-no <33333 ilysm babie hope you have a great day mwah mwah <3333

shiratorizawa aren’t overly protective of you. they look out for you but they won’t actively try to scare off anyone who tries to talk to you

thing is, they don’t even need to. they’re intimidating enough with the combination of their reputation and just the way they look that people are hesitant about approaching you

however, if you’re ever in an uncomfortable situation, the boys are on it immediately. you’re their precious manager, and they truly appreciate everything you do for them, so they’d never let anything happen to you

the first time someone tried to hit on you at a tournament and wouldn’t take no for an answer, they all pretty much surrounded the guy, not even getting to say much before he bolted

but by crowding him, they also crowded you, and that you seemed a bit overwhelmed by it no matter how much you loved your boys. this lead to a very serious club room discussion about what they should do if it ever happens again

they end up with a very specific system that they follow - goshiki and tendou take turns getting you out of there, 9/10 times by picking you up and carrying you away. they don’t even try to get the guy to back off, they’re just physically removing you (and also showing off that they’re strong)

“nope. not happening. not today.”

the rest of them stand at a distance and stare at the guy, glaring daggers

it’s all very specific and detailed. the ones standing to the side even have a set formation for maximum intimidation.

they’d never tell you about it though, because some of them (shirabu) think its embarrassing, but they still know it like the back of their hands and always stick to it

they always try to make sure to brighten your mood after as well, whether it be through stupid puns or lightly ruffling your hair

i can see taichi just booping your nose when you’re brought over to them with a stoic expression. i can see it.

the seijoh boys are stupidly protective over you. oikawa’s the most obnoxious about it (you have to tell him to stop it every time, and he only listens for about ten minutes)

if anyone tries to flirt with you, oikawa is instantly draped over you, agreeing with whatever they were saying with the fakest smile

“yeah, our manager is pretty cute, right? too bad for you that she’s ours - she’s off limits, sorry~”

iwa’s actually the most serious about protecting you, even if he keeps it quiet. if anyone approaches you he is instantly on guard and keeping an annoyingly close eye on them

if anyone’s making you uncomfortable, he won’t hesitate to step between you and pull you away, completely ignoring anything the person has to say about it

but if someone’s being really gross? or god forbid an ex shows up? the whole team’s going in

they can be pretty intimidating when they want to be, considering they’re all pretty tall and can get Serious, especially when it comes to their precious manager

kyoutani Will get physically violent, but only if you’re not watching. he doesn’t want you to be scared of him, but he’s not against punching someone for you (if you are around, he’ll settle for intimidating glares)

mattsun and makki will sometimes pretend to be your boyfriends to get you out of there. they always wing it, and if they ever end up doing it at the same time, they’ll just roll with it and pretend you’re polyamorous. they also continue to jokingly call you babe afterwards to cheer you up

kunimi just stares threateningly from a distance. he’s sitting on the floor and the person talking to you makes the mistake of glancing over at him and making eye contact. now they can’t keep looking back over to see if he’s looked away. he never has. it’s disconcerting and they find an excuse to leave so he’ll stop

kindaichi is just ridiculously tall (mans taller than bloody ushijima) and thats enough. he always gets confused as to how he intimidates them coz he doesn’t really try but it works

johzenji getting protective is like 90% just terushima getting jealous

if someone’s flirting with you he’s putting a stop to it, but if they’re actually succeeding he hates it more somehow

he’ll just insert himself between you and the person you’re talking to and start flirting with you instead. if the person gets mad at him, he’ll just pull the fact that you’re johzenji’s manager, not theirs

“sorry pal, were you saying something to our manager?”

he’s just mad that he can’t get girls even though he tries so hard and the one he’s actually kind of close to is getting flirted with, like if it didn’t work for him it’s not allowed to work for anyone else

gets to the point where if he sees you talking to anyone around your age, he’s getting in the way of it on instinct

“you know, i don’t think i’ve told you how hot you look today” “yuuji, can you let me talk to my brother please”

usually, the rest of the team doesn’t really get involved unless you’re visibly uncomfortable

but then, they’re dragging you away like a small herd of dogs. they act like the person isn’t even there, pretending there’s some very important manager thing you need to do right this second

they’re very loud and there’s a lot of them so the person doesn’t even get a chance to argue.

they’re pretty feral honestly i feel like they might bark at the person sometimes

[pfreadsandwrites]

I would love to request smth for your 100 follower celebration 🥰 It’s so hard to decide which prompt to choose but since I’m a sucker for some good ol‘ fluff: 77: “ Are you jealous? ” and 54: “ I can’t stand the thought of loosing you. ”. I don’t know if two prompts make it easier or harder to write smth, I hope this is ok 😅

100 follower celebration

Yet again, I am super sorry for the delay in this. Just, the weird cold i’ve had the past few days, the last one I did hardly being read, creativity, writer’s block, etc but I really hope you enjoy this @praisingkuroosbedhead !! Thank you so much for the support you’ve shown me up until now and i just realised your icon is Bisuke... I love... Also yeah i struggled a little a lot, just because I don’t think Kakashi would show his jealousy in a very obvious way, the second prompt would usually come after something kinda serious like an argument, so Kakashi having a moment of actually showing anger in his jealousy (which is what would realistically lead into the second prompt)... So i had like 3 or 4 different outlines that were way too complicated so i found this very difficult. It was nothing to do with your request though, my brain is just... empty... . I still don’t know if this one’s any good though, think i thought about it too much which made for worse writing but i still hope you enjoy! 

warnings: jealousy (duh), slight arguments, and resolution, fluff, reader being a dumbdumb, Kakashi being a dumbdumb too i guess but he’s mostly just grumpy this time, not proofread cuz my brain has gone on strike, 2.5k

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

sidenote: if anyone on my taglist could confirm they got the notification for this that would be interesting to know, but then it’s not like i can do anything about it lol.it would be cool if this showed in tumblr’s tags but i’m not holding out much hope. 

77. “Are you jealous?” / 54. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

It’d only lasted a second, but you could have sworn you’d seen it.

No. Though you had no proof before you, you knew you’d seen it. You saw his fist clench - just for a moment - then his strong fingers uncurled, as if regaining composure. His eyebrows knitted to a point, furrowing nicely in that way you always found so attractive, but even that was quickly replaced with that familiar, relaxed gaze you were also charmed by. Even if you were a little disappointed to see it so soon.

But when you looked again, Kakashi had disappeared from the spot he’d occupied most of the night - leaning back with one foot against the wall, arms crossed as he pretended to read that stupid book of his.

Could he have straight up teleported out of there, sick of this party, your shenanigans or both? You had to admit, you didn’t put it past him. But before you had the opportunity to explore your suspicions, a louder, less familiar voice reclaimed your thoughts.

So, reluctantly, you shifted your attention back to the drink you’d been working on and the man in front of you. You hadn’t led him on - unless repeatedly mentioning your complete lack of availability fell under that category - but Kakashi didn’t know that. And though his apparent inability to take a hint was beginning to grate on you, you had to admit that it served nicely for something else. Nothing noble - namely, eliciting a damn reaction out of your frustratingly stoic boyfriend - but it seemed effective nonetheless.

Not that it had stopped the pang of guilt creeping up from the pit of your stomach to your pounding chest. Though you were willing to deny your principles, even if only slightly, you really hadn’t meant to upset him.

But you were no fool, either.

You knew exactly what you were doing tonight.

You knew why you had come out, why you had chosen this dress, and why you had asked that Kakashi come along tonight.

At first, he had refused dismissively. Like he tended to do these days. But when he saw that you were set on going, with or without him, dressed like that - he suddenly decided that he ‘would tag along for a bit if you absolutely insisted’. You had smirked, amused at how he feigned like you were forcing him, but didn’t challenge him. 

You knew just how immature you were being. You were sure Kakashi did too, but it was very nice of him to let himself be swayed despite that, just this once.

But it was the best you could do, considering the circumstances. Every date he had to cancel, every night he came back after you went to bed and every morning he was gone before you woke up - you were at your limit.

You were willing to get his attention in any way you could.

The fact that he was currently out of sight was a mild dampener on your plan, but no matter - surely it was a sign that you’d succeeded, albeit a small one.

It was big enough for you to decide to find him, anyway. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d even manage to actually talk to him about everything bothering you. Imagine that, an honest-to-God conversation! You didn’t think you were being too optimistic.

You made to slip away from the stranger attempting to retain monopoly on your attention as politely as possible. Unfortunately, his alcohol-fuelled indignation appeared to have got the best of him, and he grabbed your wrist, holding you firmly in place. You tensed, but your pleasant smile barely had the chance to transform before you felt another hand on you. On your shoulder, this time, but it was familiar.

“Hey Y/N.”

Kakashi’s nonchalant voice alone quelled that surge of anger and fear that had been bubbling beneath you. When you looked up at him, your shoulders relaxed involuntarily. Not that you had needed him exactly. You could handle an overzealous drunk at the very least, but he had that knack for allowing you to just breathe. “Hi.”

Your nuisance’s confidence dissipated just as quickly as it gathered. Evidently, he hadn’t expected to encounter the Kakashi Hatake tonight, especially not alongside you of all people. Kakashi hadn’t sounded threatening, not obviously anyway, but he didn’t need to. His reputation preceded him, and he counted on that fact - and sure enough, the other man let go of you immediately.

“Is there a problem here?” Kakashi wondered. Only the gruff tone at the end of his question belied his (potentially) aggressive implications, but it was all he needed.

“No! No problem at all!,” the other man assured, and moved back, suddenly very careful to observe his distance.

It was amusing to see the change yourself, the intimidating effect Kakashi had on others without even trying. If you didn’t know him better, you’d have felt too scared to try and mess with him in the first place.

“Glad to hear it! Now, if you’ll excuse us…,” his voice trailed off. He didn’t bother explaining himself further, or giving you time to argue, before pulling you away and through the crowd of people.

You almost stumbled, struggling to keep up with him in your heels. As much as you were happy to get the alone time you wanted, his hasty actions unnerved you a little. You noticed that his eyes were narrowed, the furrowed brow from before back with a vengeance. Was he actually angry? “Kakashi, wait! where are we -”

“Let’s just get some air.”

You couldn’t deny that sounded nice, and the peace and quiet on the rooftop was a welcome change from the raucous energy of the party beneath it. But Kakashi didn’t say anything else. He only adopted a similar position to the one he’d had inside, leaning against the roof door with his arms folded and eyes closed.

The air was suddenly… dense. This was uncomfortable. You sighed, and he peered an eye open to look at you. Still saying nothing, but at least it was acknowledgement. Taking your cue to approach him, you attempted to make sense of your current situation.

“Are you jealous?”

You asked it before you knew what you were saying. In hindsight, it was a stupid question. You knew that. Even if there were any inkling of truth behind it (and you suspected there was), Kakashi would vehemently deny it. No. He was above that - obviously. He wouldn’t allow himself to be manipulated by your obvious behaviour, by an an emotion as petty and irrational as mere jealousy.

Even as his actions belied his words, as they so typically did, as he had placed that large hand on your shoulder and led you away from your latest admirer, in that powerful but completely lackadaisical way that only he was capable of. Never realising how imposing he could be until you were up close, but never betraying that control either. God forbid he ever show that you were capable of bothering him.

When you glanced back at him, though, Kakashi was frowning again. His mask wasn’t the amazing obstacle he thought it was; you’d become quite adept at reading his expression through his eyes alone where others couldn’t.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said flatly. The subtle growl that accompanied his final syllable contrasted with the joviality your question, and it caught you off-guard. You had been cheerful enough, even teasing, but his stern glare and suddenly intimidating stature (he was so good at hiding it) cut through the levity you’d tried to bring to the situation. Suddenly, you were confronted with every implication of your actions tonight.

But you could only think of one acceptable way to shroud your nascent insecurity. Indignation and   feigned confidence. “Why is it ridiculous?! Why did you pull me away like that if you weren’t?”

“Well, it seemed like he wasn’t getting it,” Kakashi shrugged. “Did I interrupt something?”

“No! But I could have handled it,” you sighed, but you didn’t have much faith in your words. You were sure you could have, probably, but you both knew you didn’t exactly hate the idea of him - specifically him - helping you like that. Even if you didn’t always like to admit it.

He hummed, amused, and you felt like he might have been smirking under his stupid mask. “Well, that’s probably true. But you were too busy playing games to notice what was going on.”

“I wasn’t playing games,” you hissed. Yet again, your words felt empty. But you hated being so transparent.

“If you say so. Care to enlighten me on what you were doing then?”

That scar that cut through his left eye, that was so engraved into his skin did an excellent job at cutting through your defences too. He was so good at seeing through you, you were surprised at the prospect of having to explain yourself. You had the inkling he just wanted you to admit it, the asshole, regardless of what it would do to your dignity. “Well, I-I don’t know.”

Kakashi folded his arms, as unimpressed by your response as you were taken aback.  “Well, by all means, go back to him and figure it out.”

That was it. How willing he was to dismiss you, again. His tone sparked your own anger, and you were suddenly hit with the frustration of not just tonight, but of everything up until now.

“Why are you being such a jerk about it? Don’t you understand that tonight is the most emotion I’ve had out of you in weeks? I’ve tried so hard to be patient, and now I’m trying to be more obvious, and maybe this wasn’t the best way of handling it, but you don’t make it easy! You barely pay attention, then you act as if another man paying attention is meaningless, and then - Don’t you understand that I just miss you, but you don’t…,” your voice trailed off, and that dumbfounded wide-eyed stare Kakashi was giving you was the final straw. You were overwhelmed. You were exhausted. You were annoyed. How could he have the gall to look shocked while you bore your (admittedly, slightly nonsensical) soul to him? Your breath eventually caught up with your words, and the embarrassment at your rare tears and even rarer outburst lagged behind. You turned away.  

“Y/N, I didn’t mean to - I just. Hey. Don’t cry.” It was Kakashi’s turn to stumble over his words. His breath hitched. “I miss you too. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything, though you couldn’t exactly grant his request. How were you supposed to stop crying, when this was the first time he’d shown any regret, any realisation, over your feelings tonight? Had he honestly no idea? On second thought, you didn’t doubt that after all. The concern in his voice was genuine, and you knew he was even worse at working through his feelings than you were.

“I can’t stand the thought of losing you,” Kakashi whispered, just loud enough for you to hear. You turned back, something in that gravelly timbre of his voice pulling at your heartstrings. When you met his sincere gaze, he quickly closed the gap between you. When his thumbs moved to still your tears, your hands travelled to meet his. This was the closest you’d been in weeks. 

“You have a funny way of showing that,” you admitted with a sniff. 

He hesitated. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t figure out how to fix it. So with work, I let myself get distracted. I didn’t know what to do about… any of it”

His words and intent eyes render you touched, but ultimately, confused. You struggled to assuage both you and himself. “You’re the one that pulled away. Don’t you get that I don’t like the thought of losing you either? But at least I was doing something about it.”

“You think that was doing something about it?” His tone was a little too accusatory, and he knew it, relenting with a sigh before you had a chance to argue your case again. “Right. You were. It wasn’t very effective, or sensible - I know, I know - but it was more than what I was doing.”

You remained silent, ruminating on his words. It was nice to hear, affirming to have some admission that you weren’t the only one, that you were justified in your feelings. But you knew you weren’t guiltless either.  “But I’m sorry. It was stupid to make you jealous. I should have just talked to you.”

“Yes, it was, and yes, you should have,” he agreed, a little too readily. You rolled your eyes, but he leant in close, as if in response, completely aware of the fact that he made your cheeks flare up. He leant down, lips dangerously close to your ear now, and went on in that huskier whisper that sent a shiver up your spine. “But it did work. It drove me crazy.  Seeing them all look at you like that. Seeing him look at you like that. Watching him trying to get close to you. When he tried to touch you. ”

Wait? Did Kakashi just say it worked? Did you finally get him to admit that he was jealous? You allowed yourself an internal cheer of triumph. “I knew it!”  An external one, too.

Never one to let you revel in your victories, least of all the petty ones, Kakashi stood up straight and went on. “Anyway. I’m sorry for being as distant as I was. I’m the one who put you in that position. I suppose I should have just talked to you too.”

“You suppose?”

Kakashi chuckled, tugging his mask down. You saw a glimpse of that genuine, handsome, smile - and you realised how long it’s been since you’ve really seen it. You were still pondering it when he kissed you. It was soft, sweet, apologetic - but much too short, and he was pulling his mask up before you could protest. “It’s nice to be gracious, Y/N. You were right. For the most part. Can’t we leave it at that?”

You gave an obnoxious sigh before grinning at him. “I suppose.”

“Thank you. Now, can we please go home already?”

You giggled, forgetting your self-consciousness for the moment, and placed a kiss on the masked part of his cheek. “Sure. Hey, make me a promise, though?”

He looked at you expectantly, even a bit apprehensive.

You reached up, your lips just as dangerously close to the shell of his ear as his had been to yours, and whispered. “Do you promise to make up for the distance, if I promise to make up for driving you crazy?”

Kakashi didn’t say anything, but you got the feeling that he didn’t have a problem with your terms. Something in the way he led you out, just as he had led you away from that nuisance. Something in the way he’d picked you up and carried you to bed that night, and in the way he held you close afterwards, his grip unrelenting. Something in that smile that you had missed so much, that was only for you.

It only lasted for a second, but you could have sworn you’d seen it.

[alixofagnia]

OpheThorn III: Back to Rambling

The Memory of Babel…Wow.

If nothing else, this book GOES. We’re dropped onto Babel just as lost, bewildered, and determined as Ophelia to get to the bottom of this ark. Boy, was it worth the wait! Babel is exquisitely written and, incredible as it sounds, even more treacherous than the Pole. The backbone Ophelia shows in this book is awesome! I love that she’s taken the measure of her worth—all the things she’s been through and survived in the previous novels—and come out resilient As Fuck. This book is definitely a penultimate novel. Dazzling as it is, much of it feels like groundwork being laid for the finale.

OpheThorn is less nuanced and ambiguous in Babel. While I feel there’s less to analyze, I do really love this pairing and I like writing about their dynamic. So, I’m just going to put my thoughts down and see what comes up!

[There will be spoilers]

[All fanart images credited to @patricialyfoung​]

Intro

One of the things that drew me into The Mirror Visitor series is the relationship between Ophelia and Thorn. Theirs is not a traditional love story at all; in fact, it avoids clichés and instead plays about with two romantic tropes: enemies to lovers and marriage of convenience. The series spins these tropes anew by offering subtle signs of attraction (discussed here) and giving both characters antisocial tendencies, as well as—in Thorn’s case—possible ASD traits (discussed here).

When we left these two in Clairdelune, Thorn had just put his feelings on the table. Before she could give her response, however, they were separated under upsetting, even traumatic circumstances. Years later, we meet Ophelia again…

Ophelia

…and, oh dear, she is in a sorry state indeed. We find her disastrously operating a waffle stand during a kooky Animist festival for, of all things, clocks. Just what the girl pining for Thorn needs, right? All is not well with Ophelia. As Aunt Rosaline points out,

“No, you’re not fine. You don’t go out anymore, you eat any old thing, you sleep at any old time. You haven’t even been back to the museum.” [19]

Although her mother, sister, and to an extent Aunt Rosaline all believe Ophelia is wasting away, shutting herself in her room, she’s actually been quite busy. She’s been studying and developing working hypotheses about God and the Other: where they are, there she’ll find Thorn. She’s convinced of it. Working from obscure clues dropped in Clairdelune, Ophelia settles on Babel as the ark most likely to yield some answers, and when the chance to travel there appears, she wastes no time at all.

She. Is. Going.

Thorn

In Babel, Thorn has made a name for himself as Sir Henry, rising to become a Lord of LUX, the gatekeepers of Babel who serve a similar function to that of the Doyennes on Anima. He is commanding, magnetic, and aloof as ever. It is unsurprising to find that he has been playing close to the fire again. But the stress and tension of his investigative life on Babel is certainly heightened in a way that it wasn’t at the Pole. 

We also learn that his nickname in Babel is the Automaton due to his unceasing energy. Thorn, thus, has dealt with the separation by predictably burying himself in work.

The Reunion

To Ophelia’s disappointment, the reunion with Thorn does not go quite as she had envisioned, and that’s because she hadn’t really envisioned past the goal of finding him [203]. Ophelia is very much a character who takes things one at a time as she’s confronted by them. When Thorn seems less than pleased to see her, she must consider all these Troublesome Feelings and why his underwhelming reaction upsets her.

The thing is Ophelia is waiting for Thorn to take the lead. But he already did, and she didn’t follow—at least, not in a way that he could understand. As previously discussed, Thorn does not function well with non-verbal cues. He needs to be explicitly told how someone else feels, or how he is making someone else feel, in order to know when to adjust his behavior. That can be quite flustering, especially for someone like Ophelia who struggles to vocalize her feelings exactly as they are.

“Is that it?” Ophelia murmured. “You have nothing more to say to me?”

 “I have, actually,” Thorn muttered, not stopping all his connecting. […] “And you?” he finally asked, in turn. “You have nothing more to say to me?” [263]

She doesn’t. Thorn coldly dismisses her and continues to keep her at arm’s length, especially when he gives her a second chance to confess her feelings and she still refuses to take it. 

Ophelia has social anxiety. She’s not exactly shy, she just gets tongue-tied and befuddled sometimes. It’s part of her make-up, but it doesn’t just happen around Thorn—there are plenty of instances where she has trouble expressing herself to those she cares about, such as Ambrose and Blaise in this novel, or Fox in Clairdelune. She even struggles to express basic gratitude toward Aunt Rosaline in Promise. Unlike them, Thorn challenges her to uncomfortable levels. Her feelings for him are complex and utterly foreign; she has no idea what to do about them. 

Unfortunately, Thorn is fresh out of fucks to give over her see-saw act. He’s well-past this stage of confusion and cowardice she’s experiencing because he’s been in love with Ophelia since Promise (“I’m starting to get used to you”) and dealt with the ramifications of that in Clairdelune (“I don’t give a damn whether people find me suspect, as long as I am not so in your eyes.”). 

Thorn does nothing half-heartedly. In no uncertain terms, he left her with the bluntest of blunt confessions (“By the way, I love you.”), which was a milestone in his emotional growth. It is clear that he does not love frivolously or casually in the way of his foil, Archibald, so for him, nothing has changed in three years. Likely, he thinks this should be obvious to Ophelia, and it probably should be at this point. He’s done all he can, after all, what more can she want? From his perspective, it’s Ophelia’s turn to make a move, not his.

Ophelia, though, functions differently. She has always needed verbal reinforcement and reassurance. That need has been heightened by their long separation. Essentially, they’re out of touch with one another and, in Ophelia’s case, she’s completely out of touch with herself, which is why when prompted by Thorn she doesn’t provide an answer, even though there could be only one reason for her going to Babel. Things finally come to a head when Thorn loses all patience and replaces her as his assistant. Ophelia is pissed.

“You weren’t available. Waiting for you would have slowed me down in my research.”

“Slowed you down? For your information, I was also doing research of my own. It might interest you to learn…”

“Of your own, that’s precisely the problem,” he interrupted her. “I advised you never to leave your division, and you were supposed to warn me if you discovered anything new. Nothing has changed, you still always make your decisions alone.”

“I wanted to help you,” Ophelia hissed, through gritted teeth.

“I don’t want any of your finer feelings. I need efficiency. If you don’t mind, I now have a flight to take.”

Ophelia’s blood ignited in her every vein. “You’re an egoist.” She had wanted to anger Thorn, and she knew, by the way he had frozen on the spot, that she had succeeded. All the shadows of the night suddenly seemed to  have been drawn to the center of his face. He threw Ophelia a look so hard, she reeled from its impact.

“I am demanding, a killjoy, obsessive, antisocial, and crippled,” he intoned, in a forbidding voice. “You can put all the defects in the world on me, but I will not permit you to call me an egoist. If you prefer to do things your way, go ahead, but don’t waste my time anymore. Our collaboration is over.” [305]

OMG, this is harsh. But it’s the kick in the ass Ophelia needs. Since taking up a secret identity as Eulalia and aspiring to become a Forerunner (essentially a scholar and a scribe), she’s already been confronted by the fact that she’s not as good a researcher as she’s prided herself on. Now, she’s being confronted by the suggestion that she’s not a very good partner, either. It leaves her feeling “drier than dust.” [321]

I think it’s interesting how Thorn’s dialogue here has a double meaning. He’s talking about their partnership as an investigative team, of course. But it just as easily applies to their personal relationship. He can’t keep waiting around for Ophelia to make up her mind. He’s got a God to hunt down, an Other to face. Having to wonder about where he stands with Ophelia is getting to be too much. By once again haranguing off on her own, Ophelia has made it plain to him that she prefers to do things without him. In his eyes, she’s pushing him away.

Eventually, she is able to see this perspective and she is ashamed to realize how badly she’s held Thorn to a double standard. He gave of himself through words and gestures as far as he was able, while she gave him nothing in return. Finally, FINALLY, Ophelia fully expresses her love for Thorn and, as he once did, asks him to forgive her shortcomings. It’s a very sweet scene, I must say.  

Now, to go back for a moment, what’s really gutting about Ophelia calling Thorn an egoist is this:

“God said he would keep his eyes on you,” he muttered, in a choked voice. “Right in front of me. I make a lamentable husband, but I permit no one, particularly him, to persecute my wife. It’s impossible for me to tear you away from God, but I can tear him away from you. If a book exists that contains God’s secret, and allows his invulnerability to be punctured, I will find it.” [392]

For context, Ophelia had admonished Thorn for his dogged pursuit of this quest, expressing outrage that he should be doing this for a world that’s done nothing for him. At one time, yes, Thorn may have been acting in the interest of the world. Then, he met Ophelia (who is too curious for her own good) and he met God. God threatened her, and Thorn is not a man who could allow such a thing to go unpunished, no matter the consequence. Ever since they met—through every consideration, every move in this impossible investigation and despite each rejection from her—he’s been acting out of love for Ophelia. 

As Thorn said, he is not an egoist.

The Blind Spot

After their “egoist” argument, Ophelia feels instant regret and tries to stop Thorn from walking away. She doesn’t succeed, however, because she is struck by his claws. At first, she believes he may have done this on purpose, the thought of which really scares her because it indicates that Thorn is absolutely done with her.

Later, after she finally makes her confession, we all learn that, in fact, Thorn has lost a bit of control over his family power. He has no idea that he used his claws on Ophelia. I’m a little bit unsure what caused this vulnerability—I don’t really follow the given reason, so I’m wondering if Thorn doesn’t quite know himself why this has come to be.

My theory is more euphemistic. Ophelia had reached out to touch his turned back and the gesture badly startled him. He overreacts then overcorrects, and they both take a memorable tumble. Thorn explains:

“Never again accost me from behind my back or from any of my blind spots. Don’t do any movement that I can’t see coming in advance, or then warn me out loud.” [389]

He further explains that he can retain control as long as his claws don’t perceive her as a threat and asks her not to be absent-minded with him. I think it’s entirely plausible that his control over his Dragon power has weakened due to his deep emotion regarding Ophelia. I also feel that this speaks closely to their recent conflict as well as Thorn’s coding as autistic. It’s like Thorn is saying, “No more hide and seek. No more games. Tell me straight, or not at all.”

Ophelia knows how deep his passions run. She once held his dice and thought she might die under the weight and intensity of his emotions. Perhaps it is her Animism that has wrought this change in him. Perhaps it is simply her existence. Either way, she can no longer afford to be careless when it comes to Thorn’s feelings. In the final chapter, Ophelia and Thorn have a true heart to heart, reaffirming their partnership. But Thorn has something to add.

“No half-measures,” he interrupted her. “I’m not and do not wish to be your friend.” [445]

What he leaves unspoken is that he wants to be her husband, in every version of the role: Partner. Protector. Lover. Now that Ophelia has given him an answer, Thorn is comfortable leading them forward and it is the role of lover that he specifically has in mind. Considering this is probably the first time he’s ever propositioned a woman for sex, he is understandably quite awkward. Ophelia quickly realizes that she’s added to his inner turmoil by repressing her own sexuality around him and inadvertently making him feel less than attractive. She also understands that she, too, wants to be his wife in every version of that role: Partner. Protector. Lover. What follows is a really beautiful expression of honest acceptance and true value.

Desire

My dudes, our girl is constantly at risk of exploding (or maybe imploding?) with desire in this book. It’s consuming her, emptying her, and driving every atom of her being. Look at this!

Ophelia had received no news from Thorn after his escape. Not a single telegram, not a single letter. She could keep telling herself that he couldn’t run the risk of making contact, that he was a man wanted by the law, perhaps by God himself, but it was eating her up inside. [22]

Whenever she crossed a man who was a bit taller than average, she couldn’t stop herself from looking back as she passed, with a frantic pounding in her chest. [83]

Ophelia would have recognized his voice out of a thousand. The resonance of a double bass, solemn and sullen, that echoed through her inner emptiness, shook her to the core, welled up to her throat, choked her. [240]

She waited until her heartbeat, taxed by the run, had returned to normal. But it didn’t happen. Her entire flesh seemed to be pulsating to a single chaotic rhythm. This evening, she would see Thorn again. [249]

She wanted to be with Thorn right there, right now. She’d wanted that every second of every minute of every hour, for almost three years. [249]

Although she knew the temperature of this place was strictly maintained at minus eight degrees, Ophelia felt as if it were fifteen degrees warmer. Never in her life had she cared about appearances, and yet she ran a nervous hand through her hair to tidy it up. [253]

She suddenly realized that there wasn’t much she would have refused him, had he but asked. [278]

Instead, he disinfected his hands for a second time, as if they really were repulsive. They weren’t in Ophelia’s eyes. From a distance, she took in the network of veins under the skin, the long, curved fingers, the bone that          rose up on each wrist, and suddenly, she felt something like pain in the pit of her stomach. She hadn’t the slightest idea what was happening to her, but looking at those hands made her want to scream. [283]

She felt it again, even more violently, this urgent call from deep inside her. [446]

Ophelia is so horny and I’m so here for it!

Closing Thoughts

Do I think Ophelia’s internal conflict over Thorn is drawn out? Yes. 

Do I think it’s contrived? No.

I think it falls in line with Ophelia’s characterization and I think Thorn’s frosty reaction to her presence in Babel falls in line with his characterization. These characters aren’t perfect: Ophelia is quirky and endearing, but that doesn’t make her immune to cowardice; Thorn is highly skilled and competent but is deficient socially and sometimes emotionally. I can’t emphasize enough how well Christelle Dabos knows her characters and allows them to be who they are rather than force them to make weird changes to fill plot holes.  

We can’t forget, either, the fact that they have been completely cut off from one another for years. Yes, we might think in that time Ophelia could have done more to sort out her feelings. But as we’ve seen, she just doesn’t focus on more than what she can handle at a time. She always thinks in terms of breaking a problem down into steps. The first step was following up on those clues from Claridelune. The second step was finding Thorn. The last step was dealing with herself. 

Their relationship here, which has progressed in a way that felt natural and believable, is the most straightforward it has ever been. That made writing about them this time around kind of hard, actually, because it’s all plainly there in the text. For me, I think the notable takeaway is being able to mark just how far these two characters have come in their individual and mutual journeys. Now and together, they can tackle the gargantuan, perilous task ahead. It might all end on a bittersweet note. But for this couple…that seems about right, and I can’t wait to read the conclusion.

Thank you so much for reading these long posts and leaving such kind feedback! I’m glad that you, too, enjoy Ophelia, Thorn, and this magical series. 

[lovelywingsart]

Hopeful Future

-- Karl Heisenberg X OC (AFAB, She/They) --

Something short and sweet... This was also one of my favorites to write <3 This is also one of many where you can tell my strong suit is dialogue. ouo'' Anyway, enjoy some more cuteness from them- you'll need it.

**Remember, check out the Masterlist for more! <3 **

-----

*Warning?: Some self doubt, comfort, cuddles, kisses, just being relatively sweet

Summary: The date is set, but Emelia is experiencing a pretty bad case of nerves. She won't say it, but Karl seems to notice, and gives his own form of comfort. The start of a hopeful future has begun, and they can only hope all goes to plan.

The outside building was... quiet, for once, even with the distant sound of machinery. These times were rare, especially recently. Emelia lay cuddled against Heisenberg on the mattress-like cushion kept on the second floor, relaxed enough to almost sleep as her fingers traced over the scars on his chest. His breaths came as low rumbles as he kept his arm under her, curled around her back to tap at her shoulder. She wore his shirt, as always, thoroughly enjoying his warmth and the calm that his 'purring' gave her. So much had gotten done... Planning, construction, even small bits of 'fun' thrown in for a sort of stress relief. Production had increased thanks to recent expansions since the big meeting, and their plan was set once the news of Miranda's discovery of a new vessel had come out. However, due to this, tension, Emelias tension specifically, had been high. She wouldn't admit she was nervous... Especially not to him. Talks of overthrowing or simply killing Miranda had been increasingly common, and the man seemed more ecstatic than usual. Even if he was dead tired, his mood had increased tenfold once he realized just how close they were. Somehow, the thought of that excitement disappearing because of her was something that she found... distasteful.

And so, she stayed silent, heavily preferring to be cuddled against him in what little calm and silence they had. But it still gnawed at the back of her mind, and she unintentionally let out a quiet huff. He took notice, moving his arm slightly under her to simply hold her shoulder. She glanced up at him as he shifted under her head, only to meet a curious gaze.

"Hm?" He hummed quietly, only giving a slight smile as she shook her head and looked away. She wanted to say something... She just didn't know what or how

There was silence for a moment before she quietly spoke up.

"... Karl...?"

He tilted his head, glancing at her once more. "Yes, Emmy?"

"What..." she started, faltering just slightly, "... What will we do? Once Miranda is dead, I mean..."

Her voice held a genuine, scared curiosity as she looked up at him fully. He couldn't help but raise his brows in the slightest bit of surprise. She kept her fingers moving along his chest as she felt him adjust his arm again so he could run his fingers through her currently loose hair. He chuckled.

"Well, we do what we want!" He replied happily, leaning his head back once more. "Once that bitch is dead, I-..." he paused quickly before grinning. "WE will be free. Free to live, free to thrive. We won't be under her thumb. We do whatever the hell we want to do, Emmy."

"Free to live..." she repeated, her fingers mindlessly drifting along his skin. She paused her movements once the words fully settled. Never once did she realize how close freedom was... Not once did she realize exactly what freedom MEANT. The had talked about it from the first few months of her arrival years ago, but the concept now was... odd. "We'll be free... That means..."

"That means you can live a normal life." Heisenberg chuckled, watching her reactions carefully. "It IS what you've wanted, yes?"

Emelia stared at his chest for a moment before suddenly pushing herself up into a sitting position, ignoring the uncomfortable grunt she received as she left the comfort of his arm. She was silent, lifting her right arm and staring at her hand. 'Normal'... Why did the word sound so... impossible now? Sure, her dream of normalcy had stayed with her. But did 'normal' even exist at this point? She was a fucking mutant, for god sakes... She had accepted it years ago, of course, but...

"I can't live 'normally' anymore..." she sighed finally, reaching to rub the back of her neck. There was a small flutter in her chest as if the parasite sensed her silent distress. She could feel Heisenbergs eyes nearly bore holes into her back, turning her head away as she felt him sit up with another grunt. He settled himself into a sitting position, resting an arm over his leg.

"As normally as you can, then." He offered, his voice taking on a lighter tone. He then rolled his eyes with a quiet sigh as she gave a snort of disbelief. She jumped as he reached forward, taking her jaw in his hand and making her face him. "Look at me, Emelia." He said quietly. "We're all a bunch of freaks thanks to that bitch, there's no use being ashamed of it now. But with her dead, the world is OURS! 'Normal' is whatever the hell you make it."

"But the others-"

"Fuck the others!" He laughed suddenly. "They wouldn't know what to do without her direction, they'll fall like useless pawns. And if they don't, they'll scatter like the cowards they are."

Emelia stared at him for a moment with a raised brow before falling back onto the cushion with a huff and closing her eye.

"So you want to rule by yourself, then?" She asked, the slightest bit of amusement in her voice. He looked back at her with a chuckle.

"Well, yes, but not necessarily. We both know what my plans are. But more importantly..." he suddenly twisted himself slightly, leaning over her with his hands on either side of her shoulders. He smirked as a light blush entered her cheeks once she looked up at him, clearly not expecting him to even move. "What do YOU want, Emmy?"

"... What...?" She managed, calming slightly as he tilted his head.

"You're worried about not being 'normal' enough to live that way, and even I know your mind is hard to change. What do you want, then?"

"I..." she started, somewhat stunned. Well, there were a lot of answers to that question... She just didn't expect him to even ask. What DID she want...? He was right... She knew he was. The only issue was, she didn't have an answer for the first time in years. She couldn't have the life she wanted... What the hell COULD she do? She finally sighed, turning her head to the side with her missing eye towards him. "... I don't know..."

"You don't know?"

"N-No, I..." she tried, moving her hand to brush against his just slightly to calm the nerves that had started to show themselves. "I don't have many options."

"And what are the ones you DO have?" He questioned. He shifted his hand for her, allowing her to hold it just slightly. She shrugged.

"Well, I certainly can't return to where I came from before this... If I even knew where to go, that is..." she mumbled, moving her head to look at the room around them. "I'll most definitely be killed if I tried... Or tested on more if caught, god forbid the company remembers me enough to care. Though, I COULD travel..." she said thoughtfully, but she couldn't help but frown slightly at the thought. "... But..."

Heisenberg drew back in interest, arching a brow as she spoke.

"'But'?" He asked, watching her carefully. She shook her head slightly before finally meeting his gaze with a sigh.

"This... This is my home..." she replied quietly, a near sadness in the gold of her eye. "It wouldn't feel right if I left... I'm safe here, and it's not... not lonely. Travelling can't guarantee that."

"I guess that would result in loneliness, wouldn't it?" He asked casually.

She was silent, but nodded. Lonely wasn't exactly what she wanted to be after spending time around others like her now, specifically him. She took a nervous breath and held it for a moment, choosing her next words as carefully as she could. May as well tell him the truth of her thoughts, right...?

"Given the chance, I think..." she started, her voice lowering. "I think I would... stay here." She looked up at him with a slight bit of confidence, meeting his now somewhat surprised expression. "... With you."

She was met with silence before he suddenly let out a genuine laugh, lowering himself onto his elbows for his face to be closer to hers.

"You'd really stay with me, Emmy?" He asked, an amused smile on his face as her face brightened in color. But she soon relaxed, her lips twitching into the smallest smile. She felt much better with this reaction... Much better than she thought she would.

"You're an ignorant twit, Heisenberg..." she joked before chuckling lightly. "But... yes. If... If I could."

She was met with a chuckle from him as he leaned down slightly, his nose brushing against hers.

"Well, of course you can!" He grinned, earning a small laugh. "Hell, if you stay with me, I'll help make life for you normal."

"As 'normal' as possible..." she snorted, though she couldn't keep the smile from her face. The sentiment was... oddly comforting. "You'd really do that for me, Metalhead?"

"Anything for my favorite worker."

"Am I really?"

"Always have been, Emmy."

"Hm... I feel like that's a lie..." she joked, tilting her head slightly. She was met with another chuckle.

"Would I lie to you?" He asked. She shrugged, starting to reach up.

"You hate liars, but that doesn't mean you aren't one..." she replied, her fingers drifting along the scratchy hair of his beard. She felt... calm. Oddly calm, at that... She couldn't have even begun to understand why, even as she stared into the bright pale yellow eyes that she had admittedly, secretly, come to admire. She held his jaw for a moment before tugging him down slightly. He smiled.

"To freedom from Miranda." He said simply, following her movements slowly with a now large grin. Her own smile widened ever so slightly as his lips brushed hers.

"To freedom." She replied, her voice nearly a whisper.

She was met with a surprisingly gentle kiss, letting it settle before fully wrapping her raised arm around his shoulders. She was so used to this... So used to the 'affection'. So used to the quiet and comfort he gave despite the machines around them and even his own personality at times. She felt him chuckle into the kiss as she reached her other arm around his shoulders, and in turn couldn't help herself from doing the same as he pulled away and eased himself into the hug she gave.

"And what was that for?" He asked, amusement in his voice as he moved to press a light kiss against her jaw. She shrugged, a relaxed smile on her face.

"I'm... not sure." She admitted, watching as he propped himself up over her on his elbows once more. "Perhaps that's my 'normal' now..."

"Hm. Well, I hope that counts as the start of a full 'normal' for you from now on..."

Emelia kept her arms around his shoulders, her fingers running along what skin they could reach and tracing over smaller scars.

"Maybe..."

"'Maybe'?"

"You heard me, Metalhead."

Heisenberg laughed again, finally moving to lay down next to her once more and shifting his arm to rest under her head.

"You're always the odd one, Emelia. But please, do me a favor."

She returned to her place on his chest as he shifted, tilting her head slightly.

"Yes, Karl?" She looked up at him, surprised as she was met with a calm smile.

"Never stop smiling." He said simply. While it caught her off guard, she couldn't help but do just that.

"Once this is over with, I won't." She replied.

"You promise?"

She gave a laughing huff, pressing her face to his shoulder.

"Yes."

"Good."

[random-imagines-blog]

Broken {Charles Xavier x Platonic!Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2891 Summary: Like most people in stories, you didn’t have a good upbringing. But luckily a professor in a wheelchair comes to give you that happy ending.

Hate was a language that you knew too well. It was the language that you had grown up with, because it was all that your parents had spoke. There might have been love behind those fake smiles at one point or another but you didn’t remember it. You can’t claim to have ever seen it. They were dishonest, they were suspicious, they were greedy. They saw that you had an ability and they wanted to use it to their advantage, no matter what it had done to you. If you touched someone, you could see their dirtiest secrets, their disgusting desires, the darkest part of their soul. When you are six years old and your father is forcing you to touch the hands of men in order to blackmail them, you grow terrified, and also distrustful of the world. You were absolutely traumatized. You had no friends growing up, no boyfriends, no girlfriends, you didn’t even trust animals. You never ran away from home, because at least there, you weren’t hurt. You wore gloves to keep the evils of the world at bay - when your parents didn’t utilize you. It was a horrible life for a child.

You were sixteen when Charles Xavier first approached you. It had taken a while to find you - you weren’t anywhere near New York State. But he had been branching out more and more, taking on students from around the country rather than just their area. He had talked to you outside of your home, and you hadn’t been trusting in the slightest, not until you heard his voice inside of your head saying that it was okay if you wanted to touch his hand. He wanted you to trust him.

But you refused. And he accepted that, which was a relief because you didn’t often get to walk away unscathed from meetings with weird men. He left you with a brochure though, making sure that he didn’t get close enough to make you uncomfortable. You snuck it into your room and kept it under your mattress, lest your parents find out. They would absolutely forbid you from going to a school with other mutants. You brought it out every few nights and read over the text though. A chance to learn how to control your powers so you wouldn’t have to see the evil in people? It was hard to believe that such a thing could be possible, but you held out hope nonetheless. Anywhere would be better than here.

-

On your eighteenth birthday, you ran away. You were an adult and your parents could no longer make you do anything. You climbed on board a bus that was headed to New York, and you would find your way from there. Completely covered from head to toe - thankfully it was winter - you lessened any effect from your powers, and managed to get along without finding out even more about the lack of humanity in people. If this didn’t work ... you might have no choice but to take your own life.

You arrived in New York City in the morning. The big city was an amazement to behold. You bought a newspaper and were amazed that there were even that many writers working. And not a trace of anything like mutants. Not a trace of anything evil either. A lot of it was about pop culture, which was something that you were very behind on and didn’t care much about either way. But at least it helped you to understand all of the billboards that you saw in the city center.

It didn’t take long, however, for you start feeling lonely. Holding the well-read brochure in one hand and the newspaper in the other, you found a payphone and punched in the phone number typed in bold letters. Someone named Hank answered, and transferred you right away to the person named Charles Xavier without question. So far, it was the most promising thing in your life, and you clutched onto that phone as if it was a buoy in a stormy sea.

“Charles Xavier,” The smooth voice said into the earpiece.

“H-Hi,” You said, your heart beating quickly with nerves. “You might not remember me but my name is y/n y/l/n, and you approached me two years ago-”

“Of course I remember you, love,” The man said softly. “You’ve been on my mind. Seeing the darkness in people, am I remembering right?”

“Seeing their darkest desires and deeds,” You said, feeling something akin to relief. You don’t know how he found out about your powers but at the moment, you didn’t care. “I’m technically an adult now, and I managed to get away from my parents. I’m in New York and I was wondering...”

“Of course, of course, we will send out a car to come and collect you, if that is what you want.”

“I want to be better,” You muttered into the silence. “So yes - I need to learn how to be better.”

“You are perfect the way that you are, I promise you that. We’re leaving in five minutes and we’ll be there within a couple of hours. Where would you like to meet?”

You were so unused to positivity that you literally had to swallow tears at his words. “I umm - I’m near a hotel - The Roosevelt.”

“Okay, we’ll meet you there. And I just want you to know, y/n, that if you ever decide that you don’t want to stay with us, I will personally help to set you up wherever you want to go. I want to make that clear, since I understand that you have been mistreated in the past.”

“Thank you,” You said, sinking to your knees on the dirty ground. Charles hung up on the other line, and you stayed there on the ground, the phone dangling on the cord. Whatever this was - it was mystical. You waited for him there, not moving for the time that it took for a van to come and collect you.

Charles was the same as you remembered, though his hair had gotten longer. The wheelchair was pulled out of the back of the van, and a blonde man with a smile helped to put Charles into it. “Y/N ... are you alright?” He asked, coming towards you without much effort at all. Of course he would have a highly-powered wheelchair  rather than a push one.

You looked into his blue eyes and for the first time in your life, you felt a sense of safety. He meant what he had put in the brochure, right down to the letter. He would take care of you, and protect you.

-

Your first few days were very overwhelming. The school was bustling with activity at just about every moment. People were extremely friendly, which was even more anxiety-provoking because you just could not trust them. After Charles himself had given you the tour, you were left alone in your room, which was the only room you felt comfortable in at the moment.

You had a lock on your door and you took advantage of it. The bed was just a single, which was smaller than the one at home, and there was a dresser, a desk, a lamp and a chair. It was sparse, but Charles had assured you that you could make the room your own in any way that you wanted. He said that sometimes the students go to the city on weekends and you were more than welcome to join them to buy some furnishings. He even offered to give you a monthly allowance if you helped to tidy up around the school. It was something you would think about, as long as you got to do it alone.

Most of the students were around your age. Some were older, some were younger. They may not have had the time to produce dark desires or do anything really horrible, but you didn’t want to take the risk of accidentally seeing something.

You stayed in your room throughout the weekend, until Sunday night came, and the panic along with it. Your parents had homeschooled you, not wanting to risk you getting out of the house and never returning. So tomorrow was going to be your first time in a classroom with a group of people since you were in kindergarden.  

What if you bumped elbows with someone? You would have to wear long sleeves, make sure all of your skin was covered. The gloves definitely. Would a sweater be amiss?

You sat on your bed, head between your knees, your breathing starting to hitch. A panic attack, you knew these too well. They were an old but unwanted friend. If you were panicking, it meant that you were alive, which was a good thing. And this seemed to be a safe place, but you couldn’t trust anything anymore. Home was meant to be a safe place. Had you run from one hell to another without realizing it?

Your cheeks felt wet. Your nose felt stuffed. Your mind felt loud. But despite all of these sensations, you heard the knock at the door. It sounded as if you were underwater and it was far away. But you didn’t answer it. No one needed to see you like this. You didn’t even want to look at yourself like this.

“Y/N, are you alright in there?” Charles asked. It seemed like whenever you spoke to him, he felt the need to ask you that. It seems like he already knew you all too well. “Y/N, can you open the door please?”

You didn’t answer the comforting voice. You were afraid that if you moved, you might actually have a heart attack and die right here and right now. You missed where Charles politely asked someone to fetch the masterkey for the doors, but you still did not flinch when the door swung open and he came in uninvited. At least he closed the door behind him.

“I understand how you feel,  y/n,” Charles said, coming right up to your bed. He didn’t touch you though, he just spoke. It was strange but as he expressed this understanding to you, you began to feel calm. Like his soothing voice was penetrating your head and filling up the spaces where the panic was, forcing it to leave. You finally had the strength to lift yourself up and look at him.  

“How can you possibly know?” You questioned. “When you found me two years ago, did you know what I could do? Did you know where I had been that very day and what I had to see? How could you still let me in if you knew all of that? I could have brought danger here - oh my God, what if the people my parents made me .... what if they follow me here because I know their secrets?”

Charles waited patiently until you got it all out. Only then did he begin to explain himself. “I am a telepath,” He didn’t say the words outloud, but you felt them inside of your head. As if it were your own thoughts. “I know what you can do, though I don’t know where you have been. I would never go through your mind like that, I promise. Your mutation gave you a distrust of the world, but I want you to understand that you can trust me.”

He held out his bare and fleshy palm to you. You stared at it without reaching for it. You wrapped your arms around your torso, trembling at the thought. This could ruin the place for you. If you saw something terrible, maybe something even Charles didn’t know himself...

“I want this to be a home to you, as long as you are here,” Charles implored. “And I want you to know more about me so that, in time, you can tell me more about you.”

“And if I don’t like what I see, I can leave, no questions asked?” You pleaded for the answer to that, needing to know that you had an out if you wanted it.

“Of course,” Charles said with a nod. You shuddered as you pulled the leather glove off of your hand, exposing it to the cool air inside of the room. He kept his hand out to you, without the least bit of hesitation. He wasn’t shaking, wasn’t wobbling, nothing. You never touched someone who knew about your power before. You were more nervous for it than he was.

You rested your hand on his, and your eyes closed of their own volition. It was as if you left your body and jumped into his, going through his thoughts, the worst of it being shown like a movie on a screen. You saw many, many things. There was a lot of anger, but it wasn’t towards anyone else. It was to himself. You saw the anger that he felt when Erik betrayed him, when Raven betrayed him, when he made a woman he was in love with forget him, when he turned his back on himself and turned into a recluse and abused a drug to get rid of his power in exchange for his legs. It was not at all like other things that you had seen in people’s minds.

It was dark, yes, but it was also terribly sad.

You found yourself crying once more, but on his behalf this time. When his face came back into view, you saw that he too had a tear rolling down his cheek. “I don’t often bare my soul in order to get people to trust me, but I’m glad I made an exception for you,” He said, somehow still smiling.

“I think I’m ready to tell you of my experiences,” You hiccuped.

“Would you prefer to show me?” He asked.

“No. God, no,” You whispered, shaking your head. Your hand was back on your knee now, where you felt more comfortable. Charles had revealed enough. If you touched him again, there would only be more. “It’s easier to deal with if I put it into words, if that’s okay.”

As you told him about the many men that your parents had made you touch - pedophiles, murderers, embezzlers, thieves - you felt yourself falling under the weight of your words. The panic had exhausted you, as did the memories that were rushing forward. You didn’t even realize how heavy it was until you found your head on Charles’s lap. He didn’t seem to mind either. He just patted your back as you revealed that you knew the secrets of all of these bad men, but the most horrible part of it was you couldn’t even use the information to put them in prison like you should have. Instead, your parents were blackmailing them, using their secrets to get them to finance their lifestyle.

You felt worn out when you finished telling Charles everything, up until you had run away from home on your birthday and now here you were. And you realized that he was still touching your back, resting his hand on the fabric of the sweater that you were wearing indoors. It was so soft and comforting having someone take care of you like this. How many times had you laid alone in bed as a child and wished for your parents to do something similar? It was beyond count. This was the first time that you truly felt you could put trust into another human being.

There was a prolonged silence but it was comfortable. He continued to lightly stroke your back, and you got your breathing back to normal. “Thank you for telling me,” Charles said, breaking the quiet. “You should get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow, and I have some phone calls to make.”

You released yourself from him, though it was incredibly hard to do so since you were growing attached to the Professor. He was the closest thing to a friend you had, and this also meant that he was the closest thing to family that you had. “Are you going to make sure I didn’t see all of that for nothing?”

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Charles smiled gently. “I still have friends in high places. Now get back into your bed. You have classes tomorrow, remember?”

“Do you think they’ll be able to help me?” You asked, figuring that the classes were more for people with physical powers. “Or that they won’t judge me?”

“They’ll help. I’ll make sure of it.” With that comfort in mind, you went under your covers, and rested your head upon the pillow.

“Thanks - for everything,” You said, realizing that he was holding one of your pieces. You had felt broken all of your life, and here was this kind man, taking care of you as if you were his daughter despite just meeting you.

“You’re welcome. Sweet dreams.”

“You too, Charles.”

[simplyshelbs16xoxo]

‘This Love Came Back to Me’ Chapter 2: This is London

Ao3 | Buy Me a Coffee?

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               Being in London again, amongst the bustling streets and busy lives, had Molly in a state of wistfulness. She had been homesick since the day she left and her stomach knotted with deep-seated guilt and regret. It mystified her how this city seemed to scream his name. When she thought of London, she didn’t think of the usual things—the Thames, Buckingham Palace, Trafalger Square, or even Big Ben with its comforting chimes—but she always thought of Sherlock Holmes. He was forever connected to this place much more intimately than anything or anyone else she could think of. And connected to him was the sense of home. She had felt her heart leap in joy when she stepped off the plane.

               And now, looking up at the street sign, Molly let out a shaky breath. She had once promised herself she would never grace this very pavement if she ever lost him. And yet she found herself on Baker Street once more. In her hands were the results of their findings, and she sincerely hoped he would be cordial with her, though she knew she didn’t deserve such a kindness. 221B stared down at her as if daring her to cross the threshold, to recall her memories here, to once again face the man who lived in it, and at one time with her.

               Molly took each step with trepidation. She wished to not upset him any further, but it couldn’t be helped. Never did she think her actions would have hurt him, for she hadn’t thought he truly felt for her what she felt for him. Her presence was difficult for him and Molly hadn’t a clue how to steer clear. Being put on a case together had made matters complicated. One deep breath and she knocked lightly against the worn wood. She made out a couple of voices including his own. He must have been with a client. Turning on her foot to leave, the door was yanked open, causing her to turn back towards it, towards him.

               “Oh,” he frowned, disappointment clear on his face. “It’s just you.”

               She swallowed the lump in her throat. His callousness tore at her rapidly beating heart. “I brought some of the results for you to look over. You’ll find that there is a particular feature of interest that may turn out to be a lead.”

               Sherlock studied her with curious eyes that narrowed when he met hers. He removed the report from her hands and looked it over. “Very good, then. It looks like Mike is no longer in need of your services.”

               Molly opened her mouth to protest, stepping forward to follow him inside, but he had quite firmly slammed the door in her face before she could utter a syllable.

                When Sherlock turned his back to the slamming door, he was met with Mary Watson’s chiding expression, an eyebrow raised high. “Was it really necessary to do that?”

                “She’s the one who decided to leave,” he replied like a five year old.

                “Yes, well, that may be true, Sherlock, but I thought you wanted an explanation from her, hmm?” Mary crossed her arms, tapping her foot with impatience. “I don’t agree with how she handled things, but I hardly think it necessary to act like children.” She briefly recalled hearing about their argument in the morgue the day before.

                “I’ll stop when she does.” Sherlock was in no mood. He hadn’t seen her in years until yesterday. Molly Hooper broke his heart, betrayed his trust. He told her he loved her, and she ran away. “I once thought she loved me—but, I see now that I was wrong.”

                “She did love you, Sherlock,” Mary argued.

                “Could’ve fooled me,” he huffed. It wasn’t as if she had said the words back.

                “I think you and Molly can work things out—you’re both stubborn, and that causes a lot of damage with situations like yours. One of you needs to be the bigger person,” Mary advised. “I know you’re hurting, but this week could change things. Try to make the best of it.”

                Sherlock sighed. “I won’t make any promises, but I’ll try.”

.

.

               It was official: Molly Hooper hated herself for what she did to Sherlock. If she could, she knew she would go back when things were okay and do things right. Instead of listening to her doubts and allowing herself to be persuaded into leaving, Molly would have said the words back. She would have told him what she had feared. They would have talked through it and they would still be together now. She was sure of it. He could no longer stand the sight of her. The man who held high disregard of emotions—and for good reason—gave her his heart, and she ruined him.

               The next five days in London would be torture, but she had it coming to her. This was the universe biting her back in the arse for what she had done. Molly, upon returning to her hotel room, decided to take a soak in a bubble bath to calm her nerves. Hair up in a messy bun, she sank down into the warm sudsy water, leaning her head back with her eyes closed, unable to keep herself from remembering how it used to be.

               “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered in his ear. Sherlock had drifted off, but he still held her tightly in his arms. It was as if he was afraid to let go. Molly could still feel the ghost of his love all over her body, through her, inside her. In truth, she had never been so happy. But then, why did she feel so scared?

               If he were to ever wake up one day and realise this wasn’t what he wanted, Molly promised herself she’d never walk Baker Street again. Hell, she probably wouldn’t be able to stomach staying in London if he ever walked away. Or if, God forbid, she ever did. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him, his expression one of complete serenity. It made him look ten years younger. Molly pressed her lips to his neck, leaving a trail of soft, warm kisses for him. She heard him moan quietly in his sleep, and it made her smile. God, she loved him so much, her heart ached. What was it about those eight letters that were so overwhelming, so daunting? Maybe one day she’d be brave enough to say them.

               The visions in her head never stopped. There wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t think about him, about their love, magical as it was. For the first time since she arrived back in London, Molly allowed herself to cry; to grieve for them, for the man she had hurt. All she wanted to do was take away his pain, but he’d never allow her close enough to do that. Never again.    

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               After a brief conversation with Mike the next day outside the morgue, Sherlock, she noticed, was fast approaching her. Molly braced herself for his scathing remarks, her whole body tensing up as if his words caused her physical pain. Instead, he shoved the manila envelope toward her, insisting she take them back. “Were my findings not to your liking then?” she asked, somewhat feeling put-out.

               “On the contrary, Doctor Hooper,” he replied, taking a moment to swallow his pride, “what you discovered is most fascinating.”

               Taken aback at the change of attitude, Molly questioned him with her eyes, her mouth slightly agape. “Yes, well, it seemed odd that our murderer went through all of the trouble of making a bloody mess of his victims when his real M.O. was a nearly undetectable poisoning.”

               Sherlock nodded. “He’s trying to keep us from profiling him correctly. He’s clever, but not as clever as you.” He felt his face flush, mentally cursing his traitorous body.

               Her eyes met his in a brief remembrance of the love they once shared. My clever Molly, he had taken to saying whenever her intellect shone through like a bright star. The man who had once admired her was still there somewhere deep down. She hoped so, anyways. As soon as the spark was there, it was gone, the air somehow colder than it had been. “If that’s all you came here for…I believe you have a murderer to catch.”

               “Wait,” he began, taking a small step forward. “It has come to my attention that I’ve been, for lack of a better word, an arse. We should be able to at least be cordial whilst working this case together.” Sherlock had a hard time meeting her eyes. “I’m…I apologise. You really are the best for the job.”

               Never had Molly felt more uncomfortable and undeserving of an apology. She gazed at him with soft, sorrowful eyes. “Thank you,” she uttered in a small voice. If he hadn’t looked so uncomfortable, himself, she wasn’t sure if she could’ve found the strength to reply. She wanted to apologise for leaving him, beg him for his forgiveness, but fear—a different kind; one of rejection—stopped her. The awkward silence was deafening and she was thankful when Greg interrupted them.

               “There’s been another body, Sherlock. Here’s your chance to go to the scene and—Molly? That you?” Greg grinned happily, going in for a hug.

               “It’s been an age,” Molly told him, her guilt eating her up inside. At least he didn’t appear to be angry with her.

               Sherlock stood by with his hands behind his back, jealousy rearing its ugly head, his stomach knotting tightly. He watched as Greg gave her a quick peck on the cheek and it took all his strength not to lash out. There was no way he could deny his feelings any longer—he still cared for Molly, still loved her despite everything, but it was clear she had moved on. He had been so lost in his thoughts that he only caught the tail end of Lestrade’s question.

               “—with us?”

               “Oh, I—well, I don’t think I should,” Molly answered, glancing at Sherlock. “It’s probably best I stay behind.”

               Greg knew things were strained between them—he had even been on the receiving end of her lack of communication. He nodded in understanding, not wanting to push her into it. “Suit yourself. How long are you here for?”

               “Just until the end of the week, then back to Galway,” she informed him. The words tasted bitter on her tongue.

               Galway, Sherlock thought. So that’s where she ran off to. It was where her grandmother was from—her father’s mother. It should have been blaringly obvious, but he had kept himself from thinking too much about it.

               “Well, do us all a favor, and phone us once in a while…yeah?” He clapped Sherlock on his back, including him in that statement.

               She nodded. “Of course.” Her eyes met Sherlock’s briefly. Never did she want to let him down again. “You have my word.”    

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Overgrown Metal

Series Summary:  Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the veil with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Now eight paths cross to right the wrongs on both ends, working to uncover secrets that would have rather stayed hidden

Chapter 5: Bow With Hope

Summary: Enter Patton.

Trigger Warnings: death mention. If i missed any please let me know.

General taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck (if you’d like to be tagged for all works or specific ones feel free to ask!)

Patton sighed gratefully as the great doors closed behind him, quickly straightening before anyone could see and hurrying down the main street to the tallest building before anyone could catch him and ask too many questions. His jaw clicked painfully as he tried to subtly stretch it out and hoping no one would notice just how fast he was blinking behind his rather large glasses. Too many potential questions, too many potential conversations, too much of everything and honestly why wasn��t he there yet he was in impeccable shape and walking fairly quickly and-

He nearly crashed into the front doors of the building not having noticed tripping his way up the steps. Blinking a few more times he shifted his pack to one shoulder somewhat painfully considering its weight and nudged the door open slowly and just enough for him to fit through, slipping in fast and shutting himself and the inside away from any potential prying eyes. Dropping the pack carefully he slumped against the frame and let his eyes adjust, the milkiness nearly cleared from his vision as he stretched his mouth open as wide as it would go. Being mute outside the walls didn’t give you many opportunities or use for that matter for opening it very often, defaulting to clenching his jaw an unhealthy amount and making it a relief when he finally returned to his city and no longer had to worry about keeping up any pretenses.

Looking around revealed an unsurprisingly empty lobby, the converted hotel expanded almost impossibly wide and making the light fixtures work twice as hard to banish the shadows from the furthest reaches of the room. Several staircases led up and away to various sections of the building, though only a couple led down into the depths where he and others of his current status were rarely ever permitted to tread. Waving away the sadness that threatened to swell at the thought he simply sighed again and hoisted the pack back over his shoulder, oddities from a nearby Undercurrent ratting softly within it. He wondered briefly what the residents of the underground towns actually called themselves- certainly something better than the blatant derogatory name Societies had given them. The nicer ones were nearly identical to Patton’s own city: well structured layers of markets and power plants and homes all buried safely beneath the ground to adapt to their rapidly changing environment.

Of course he wouldn’t care to live in one...he didn’t even really care to be living in a Society despite the “safety” it promised him especially being as high up as he was. Given the choice he’d be a wanderer as so many were now, refusing to settle down where either roots or branches would eventually chase you out or kill you as you tried to hold them back. Vast open plains were really only a temporary solution as wildlife continued to grow and shift and spread without mercy or care for what it was destroying to create whatever ideals were behind it. Shaking his head once again he made his way to the nearest staircase. There’d be time for thinking later...maybe. For now he needed to deliver what he managed to find and hopefully it would be enough to pay him with a day pass to the cemetery; his superiors didn’t want the past to hold anyone back which was fine with Patton- it just  meant he worked incredibly hard to be able to earn his time with who he had lost.

Finally getting to the door he needed he took the time to give his jaw one final stretch, mouthing out a couple words to practice their shapes before he had to talk again. His vision  had finally cleared fully leaving his dark brown curls the only thing obstructing his vision. Carefully they were pushed up and away, tucked neatly behind his ears before he smoothed the front of his still dirty tunic. Wincing he tried in vain to brush as much of it off as he could only to give up after barely half a minute as the dirt made it clear it was there to stay. Stern voices chiding him for his lack of professionalism were waved away quickly. His job was tough and dirty and there was really nothing he could do to help with that unless they decided to transfer him to a different purpose. These assurances fell somewhat limply as he sucked in a breath. He would never trade his purpose for anything, dangerous as it could be and even with the added drawbacks. He was free to roam out there- within a time frame but still. He could see how the world was progressing and how life was coping, he could see grass and “trees” rather than the industrial colors of his Society, and most of all he could look for-

Gripping the straps he straightened one final time and placed his hand on the door knob. There would be time for thinking later; right now he had a job to finish. Swinging open the door before he could change his mind he stepped in, head down and shoulders back before shutting the door behind him. Nothing happened for a full minute, the only sound in the room Patton’s own quickly beating heart and the gentle tinkling in the bag as the trinkets shifted with his fidgeting, Five minutes had passed before he slowly lifted only his eyes to scan the room, realizing with a start that he was completely alone. 

Cheeks burning with slight embarrassment he walked forward towards the thin envelope with his name on it on the wide oak desk. Placing the pack beside him he opened to reveal a small wad of twenty dollar bills and a note most likely written by the direct herself.

Patton,

If your past findings have been anything to go by this should be enough to pay you for what you’ve brought back this time, though action will be taken if my assumption is incorrect. The day pass included was taken from your pay, I took the liberty of sparing you a trip.

Faris

Blinking in surprise he quickly shuffled his pay to find that there was, in fact, a day pass included. His stomach squeezed uncomfortably at the thought of his routine being known so well but the organization he worked for was a rather tight knit group so in the end he supposed it made sense. He nudged the bag closer to the side of the desk and turned to leave, only briefly wondering why the director hadn’t been there this time before quickening his pace back towards the way he came. If he hurried he’d be able to use it now; he’d scarcely thought of much else his entire trip outside the walls.

Walking as quickly as he dared through the silent lobby he found the long familiar flight of stairs and hurried down them, barely stopping ;long enough to shove the pass through the slot before nearly crashing into the second door he hadn’t been paying attention to today.. Schooling his annoyed expression as the pass was logged he reached immediately for the door as he heard the beep, mood sobering immediately as the cold musty air hit his face. The cemetery was a quiet place, as they so often were, and hung heavy with the warm smell of earth contrasted just shy of unpleasantly with the crisp air of the underground cavern. Here the dead lay still in whatever a family could scrounge to wrap them with, most only in their best clothes laid as carefully and respectfully as possible in the holes dug by those who cared for them. Families weren’t allowed to see the dead laid to rest, too painful a thing to watch with the limited amount of technology they had, the director had said. Patton would have gave everything- he glanced up at where his feet had automatically taken him. His son’s grave.

His tight smile turned genuine as he kneeled in front of the stone, tears already pricking his eyes as he stared at the name written there. He brought his arm up slowly, palm resting on the corner of the smooth stone he had picked out himself: smooth and just big enough and slate gray with obsidian cracks spidering at the side. He always liked smiling in the cemetery, hoping that if God forbid his sin’s soul lingered he would see his father smiling and be comforted. He knew if he was ever a spirit he wouldn’t want to see his family mourn him, pain cracking their usually cheerful features. No. He’d rather them smile with the memories of their time spent together, and especially for his young child, he smiled as wide and as long as he could, simply absorbing the silence and trying his best to turn the cool indifference of the stone into warm comfort with the simple touch of his palm.

“I always wondered who it was you put all your hard earned savings towards. Though I’m deeply curious patton: if you’re mourning him down here, then why look for him up there?” Patton froze at the cold words tossed at him so carelessly, matching the rest of the room and sapping what little warmth he himself had left to offer. Standing carefully he schooled his face into what he hoped was an open expression and turned, meeting the deep brown eyes of Director Faris. 

She really shouldn’t be this intimidating he thought to himself as he bowed his head. The director was his height and only slightly chubbier, dark suit with a crisp lab coat laying carefully over it filling the picture of professionalism. Really the only thing scary about her was the necklace she wore with their society emblem carved into a small pendant, the snarling muzzle of a dog glinting in the low light. Her stern gaze never wavered from him, much as he wished it would, and the air between them had grown incredibly uncomfortable by the time she cleared her throat to indicate he could answer.

“Blind hope I suppose.” He offered weakly. “Thank you f-”

She waited patiently for him to clear his suddenly very dry throat, trying desperately to clear the gravel of disuse from his voice before he tried to speak again. “Thank you for  including a pass with my pay, the saved trip is greatly appreciated.”

“Blind hope that he survived and somehow escaped your notice for ten years?”

“A father knows.”

“So does a leader.” Faris stepped forward and  laid a hand on his shoulder. “You always have so much trouble simply letting go Patton. Let the past be.”

Patton bit back the retort of his purpose that was given to him by the director herself was finding relics of the past along with whatever could be made from present materials to bring back to the city. His purpose relied on the past and people finding new ways to innovate it so it fit into the future. That to simply let the past go- well, wasn’t so simple. He cast a longing gaze to the smooth stone sitting obliviously in the dirt, Faris’ eyes following sharply.

“Whose body do you think is down there if not your son’s? How little respect do you have for us if you think we would deceive you on such a personal level?” Patton felt a wave of guilt wash over him at those words, looking down shamefully. “Have faith, Patton. This world has no more room for questions.”

As the director's hand fell from his shoulder at last she gestured as she turned away, taking confident strides to the stairs. “Follow me when you’re ready; I have other things to discuss with you.”

Pressing his lips together, Patton took one last look at the grave marker. Doubt curled not for the first time in the back of his mind, an ever growing sapling digging its roots ever deeping in the bed of questions he had surrounding the Society in which he lived and the people put in charge of it. As one of the head researchers it didn’t sit right with him that Faris allowed so little to be questioned, instead offering up faith as the sole reason to follow whatever whim the higher ups decided to pursue. He worked only a small branch of the Society, so much was left behind closed doors he very rarely if ever had access to. There was always, always room for questions. 

“I will never stop looking for you.” He whispered quietly enough so he was sure faris wouldn’t hear before turning and hurrying towards the steps. “I promise you, Virgil.”

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[sommerfelds]

FOR ALL THREE SOMMERFELDS: HOW DO THEY SHOW LOVE??

          libby, you are an angel and i love this ask because i have SO many thoughts about this for all three kids.

          ezra :         will make you gifts by hand.   he’s never quite sure if he’s good at the whole love thing, on any front, but he sure does try really hard.  ezra’s a very  hands-on  sort of person with about a million hobbies and his birthday / hanukkah / everyday gifts for everyone tend to be gorgeous handmade items of various sizes and types.  he crochets.  he makes soap.  he makes jams and pickles things.  he builds bikes.  he rebuilt a classic car as a wedding gift for his brother and his husband.  he knows it’s kind of an odd way to express his affection, but it’s  his  way and he just can’t seem to not do it.  so if you care about him and he gives you a candle he made, or a scarf, or some preserves  ...  validate him, because he’s trying really hard.

                                 will listen to you.   ezra’s typically not much of a talker  -  although there are exceptions  -  but he will listen for hours, if you need it.  just listen.  he doesn’t always know what to say and he’s  very  bad at solving social / personal problems  ( so he thinks )  but he can lend an ear and often does with people he cares about, even if he has no real advice to give.  however, if he  does  ...

                                 will try to fix things.   that’s where the third bit comes in.  ezra often feels his greatest use is simply in his utility  -  so he has a tendency to try to fix things.  any problem he feels he can tackle for somebody, he will.  like i said, in terms of social / personal problems, he often doesn’t know what to do, but if you bring to him an issue to talk over that he feels he can help solve, he  will  try to do so, and thus sometimes has to be asked very softly to just listen and let someone work through something.  on the flip side, if you tell him that your car has been making a weird noise or that there’s something up with your garbage disposal or the chain on your bike is acting weird, he’ll show up at your place to fix it without being asked  ...  which we have to admit is pretty great.

                                  will defer to what the people he loves wants.   ezra isn’t really very good at standing up for himself to start with, but when he loves someone very much  -  romantically, platonically, or in a familial way  -  he will basically go with the flow of whatever that person wants.  this is, of course, a double-edged sword, because while it can be very sweet with the right person, it’s very NOT sweet when he’s with the  wrong  person and they steamroll him without trying to figure out what it is  he  wants  -  which is, of course, partially because he  does  need to get better about voicing his own desires and needs.

          simeon :     small meaningful gestures / quality time.   this is a love language he learned from his mother.  while sim isn’t always very good when it comes to voicing his affection,  particularly  in romantic situations, he instead does little things to subtly prove he cares.  he remembers your favorite dessert.  he cooks your favorite meal for you, even if he’s never tried that dish before.  he spirits you away for spa weekends when you’re stressed out.  if he knows you’re uncomfortable with asking for / receiving things, he’ll pretend like you’re doing HIM a favor by coming over to his place and having a relaxing movie night where you paint each other’s nails or snuggle up under a blanket on his comfy couch and watch movies or sit under the stars on his patio.  despite appearances, he REMEMBERS little things about the people he cares about and uses that information to do little things to remind them that he loves them.

                                  physical touch.   simeon isn’t very touchy  -  until he is.  there are only a small handful of people he’s physically affectionate with, but with that handful of people, he is  incredibly  affectionate.  when he’s with his husband or his best friend or his mother, or one of the very few other people he trusts, he will not stop holding their hand or brushing a hand through their hair or kissing their temple.  physical touch with someone he trusts makes him feel grounded, just as physical touch with someone he  doesn’t  trust absolutely repulses him.  to tell the truth, it’s really quite cute to watch  ...  most of the time.

                                  words of affirmation.   this one can be hard to pick out, with him, because there is a difference between his sincere compliments and the ones he gives people for show.  those who know him well can tell the difference in his tone and the way his eyes light up and get warm.  he knows how to use compliments to ingratiate himself with people when he needs to   (  he plays the entertainment world like a fiddle that way  )   but the way he speaks affectionately to those who matter to him is far different.  he’s always telling his closest friends how beautiful and cherished and loved they are, one way or another.  if you got a new outfit?  a new lipstick?  changed up your hairstyle?  found a new moisturizer?  simeon notices and comments ;  he wants to make the people he cares about feel good about themselves, always.  he also pays attention to the things that they might need to hear to validate them, and tries to do so as often as he can, when he gets to a certain place with someone.

                                  reading your love language.   sim is fairly adaptable in this regard, believe it or not, and once he’s close enough to someone, he will make sure he learns  their  love language and try to speak to it  -  even if he isn’t always the best at it.  of course, this requires that he becomes  very  close to someone and trusts them  very  much  -  but despite appearances and despite how guarded he can often be about his heart, he is fundamentally an incredibly soft man who, by nature,   wants   to give back, especially when he feels safe and cared for.

       shoshana :     lets you into her space.   shoshana is a fairly closed off person in general, which is no secret.  she likes to cultivate and maintain her space as her own, which is why she would always have trouble with the concept of living with someone.  a good indication of sho starting to open up is her being more and more willing to allow someone into her private spaces, such as allowing lovers to sleep over and stay at her apartment for significant periods of time, allowing them to leave a jacket or sweatshirt at her place  -  god forbid a  toothbrush !  if it becomes actively obvious that somebody is staying over at her apartment with some frequency, it means she’s beginning to grow feelings, and with that comes a growing space in her life that may seem small and quiet but is actually very significant.  this also applies to shoshana inviting someone to events, especially those at which family will be present, or ANYTHING having to do with her work ;  both of those things are actually deeply important to her.

                                  small touches in public and private.   she isn’t terribly affectionate, typically ;  not with her family or friends or anyone else.  but while she’ll never be an overly affectionate person, it’s a pretty clear indication that she’s growing some serious feelings for someone if she’s seeking small touches here and there.  if she takes your hand, if she leans her head up against your shoulder, if she links her arm in yours or brushes your hair behind your ear  ...  these are all things that seem very small, but shoshana ABSOLUTELY does not like to touch or be touched unless she feels very close to somebody  -  something that goes not only for other people, but sometimes for her own family as well.  if she is seeking physical contact with someone outside of sex, that is incredibly meaningful, even though it may not be obvious.

                                  jokes / laughter.   shoshana is a very serious woman, typically, with a serious job and a serious schedule and a serious demeanor.  her humor, when she has it, tends to be incredibly dry and often difficult for people to understand ;  it often makes others uncomfortable because they can’t tell if she’s joking or not, especially since she doesn’t tend to do much laughing  ...  pretty much ever.  it’s when she’s willing to cut loose a little and PROPERLY laugh, when she’s willing to be a little bit sillier, when she actually  relaxes  a bit, that you know the person eliciting that response is important to her.

                                  ???   at the end of the day, sho tends to be pretty closed off  -  and both she and I are still fairly in the dark about what, exactly, all her love languages are.  she, frankly, hasn’t allowed herself to become close enough to somebody to find out.  unlike her brother, who closed himself off due to the things that happened to him when he was young, but who is nonetheless starved of love and wants it more than anything, shoshana finds she doesn’t really  need  love to find fulfillment  -  so she hasn’t made it a priority and fears that, if she did, it would interfere with her career and the rest of her life.  when she gets to that point with somebody who’s willing to take her as she is with no reservations about her somewhat colder personality, then she might discover something long dormant that will surprise her.

ALWAYS ACCEPTING HEADCANON ASKS !!

[seventfics]

Barking Dogs

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Laundry day Relationships: Roche/Ves Rating: T (Swearing Language) Content Warnings: None Summary: Roche and Ves have a yelling match about her inappropriate vest, again.

Read on AO3

* * *

It’s laundry day in the Temerian resistance camp, and Roche is sewing up Ves’ vest.

“What the fuck are you doing to my clothes?!”

Half the members of the camp turn their heads at the high scream. The other half goes about their day, unfazed as their fearless commander shouts, “by the gods, woman, your cleavage is a menace on your life. I don’t fucking care if you stab me for fixing it myself, alright?!”

It's an hour of loud arguing back and forth, of Ves tearing new stitches free as Roche keeps slapping her hand away to re-stitch his work again.

By the time it starts raining—because gods forbid a single day be clear and sunny in Novigrad—the vest is a tattered mess, and everyone has gone inside their cave hideout to tarp up their things.

“Ves.”

“Bastard,” she spits heartily onto a puddle.

Roche sighs. “Ves.”

“What! That was a good vest and now it’s fucking ruined. I'll have to buy a new one.”

“I can cover the cost.”

“Hah! Like you’ll cover my breasts?!”

“Ves,” he sighs again. The rain has picked up enough that they’ve moved under a tree, both of them refusing to have this conversation in front of the other soldiers. “What don’t you understand about how armor works? I don’t want you to be reckless in the field with a huge open target.”

It’s the same argument they’ve been having for weeks now, since she’d jumped into a fight against heavily armored Nilfgaardians and her arse had been saved by the swing of Roche’s and Geralt’s interrupting swords. She’s sick of it.

“Don’t you trust that I’m aware of my huge open target?! That I don’t use it to my advantage, because it’s the first thing an attacker will go for?” Ves paces under the sagging tree's canopy, her boots muddied up to her ankles. “And what if I want to look good while I’m stabbing a man’s eye out for ogling me in the middle of the battlefield?!”

Roche rubs his face with both his hands. “That is the most unorthodox method of combat I’ve ever heard. It's ridiculous.”

“It works for me.”

“It worries me.”

“Why?” A scowl settles firmly on her face, but her heart beats fast, confused between a soldier’s shame and a friend’s concern. Lately, Roche treats her like she needs watching. Like she’s not a full grown adult with a body count to make her commander proud.

But his attention is also the most anyone’s ever given her, with respect to her ability and her strength. Not because she is a woman who knows how to fight, but because she is a person who knows how to fight well.

And he worries about her anyway.

“You know what, fine," she says before Roche gives a proper answer. "Here. You ‘fix’ this one and you promise to leave it alone after.”

For this, Ves takes off her only other vest, the one she wears, to hand over. Underneath it is just the thin trappings of a white undershirt soaked through. Might as well be shirtless at that point, with how uncomfortably itchy it makes her skin, so she throws that off as well with a frustrated growl.

As she stands there, topless in the rain, Roche nods a very serious and solemn, “fair,” and gets to stitching.

Ves blinks. She crosses her arms, the movement putting a slight lift on her chest, but Roche keeps working on the vest as if she weren’t the most beautiful, young woman this side of the Pontar river—in her humble and true opinion.

Plenty of the men at their own camp ogle, which they learn they can’t get away with. Being the only woman in Roche’s highest and most trusted command catches everyone by surprise the first time they meet her. But Roche never ogles. He grumbles under his breath, exasperated at everyone’s damn one-track minds. He never blames her for catching their attention either. He just grumbles.

“I don’t understand you,” she says harshly over his head. They’ve worked together for years and still she does not know his thoughts. There is no other man she would follow into battle, even if she disagrees with him lately.

No other man ignores her subtle flaunting so genuinely.

“Ves.” He lays her vest on his knee and looks up at her. His expression is serious, so she lets go of her anger for just a second to hear him. “I care about you. A great deal. Probably more than I should,” he mutters more to himself, but she catches the end of it and slaps his arm, laughing.

That's more like the old Roche she knows. The one who yells at recruits for not knowing a pike from a fucking halberd or how to wield either without poking someone's eye out. That's the Roche who will keep on yelling as he teaches the boys through trial and error, never giving up on them, though it would be a lot less trouble for him if he did.

“You’re a softie is why. Can’t help but pick up strays." She grins, all teeth. "Geralt thinks he picked you up, but we both know you're the one who roped him into your little circle of grouchy dogs.”

“You’re not a stray,” is his quieter huff.

“Yeah. A stray would leave. You can’t get rid of me.”

Roche smiles. He won't give up on her and she won't leave him alone. That's the price of loyalty, one they've willingly payed a dozen times over. Saving each other's arses is stubborn ingrained habit now.

She sits beside him, watching him carefully pin the last stitch of a thick underlayer of cloth to her vest that would cover her chest better. Not completely, she notices with a raised brow. He’s no tailor, but she might call the narrower opening of her vest tasteful—playing with her strategy for offensive distraction, while allowing more protective coverage.

He hands her the refurbished piece of armor and she hums, rubbing the damp thing between her fingers.

"Well it's not terrible, I guess." As she admires it, Roche startles her with the heavy throw of his overcoat over her shoulders. “Huh?”

“It’s raining, and you’re bloody cold,” he says, pointing at the very obvious indication of the chill on her chest.

“You were staring!” What would otherwise enrage her to learn, she laughs into the sleeves of Roche's soap-smelly coat. And if her face feels a little hot, she hides it with an admonishing, “Commander.”

He rolls his eyes so hard it hurts her head. “I’m not acting as your superior officer right now.”

“Roche,” she corrects. And stops, not quite knowing where to go from here.

It’s laundry day. It’s raining. Their clean shit is ruined and in need of a second evening's wash. Her vest is a thread mess and she’s holding Roche’s overcoat like a pillar of stone in unstable ground.

“So you care about me?”

“Of course I do. You’re—” Roche cuts himself off, glaring at the ground like enemy spies would spring up from it. Then his eyes move their glare to her. Her chest to be exact. It carries none of the usual interest a man would show her. Rather, it feels like he’s angry at some invisible affront her breast has caused him.

“I’m...?” Ves asks casually, though her face is beet red at his sudden staring.

“It’s complicated.”

“Fah! That's an understatement if I ever heard one. You ruin my clothes as a favor to me, offer to buy their replacement, do a decent job of actually stitching something up when that doesn't work, and then you glare daggers at my cleavage like it called your mother a whore. You're a complicated man.”

They could call him complicated. They could call him a foulmouthed, pigheaded worrywart. A man indifferent to her wiles, and someone she really, really wants to rile up with her wiles sometimes—right now, actually. If she could gather up the courage.

Well. Roche does always say she’s impulsive. And they are seated thigh to thigh, if only her stupid, blushing face didn't betray the air of coolness she is trying to wrap around herself.

So she kisses the corner of his lips, ending it with an almost nervous, “Was that complicated too?”

He leans back from her, his eyes wide in surprise. “A little." His voice is rough to her ears. "And...if I disappoint you?”

For a moment, her heart drops. A trickling fear called doubt grows in her head—that how he cares for her is not the way she does for him. That she's misunderstood something crucial in their closeness.

But his muted laugh sounds pained to her ears, like he thinks he isn’t enough in this. She wants to stop it.

Ves meets his eyes. She keeps their stare until the backdrop of the trees and the rain fades to nothing, and all she hears is his soft breathing. “You could never disappoint me. Send me into a blind fury when you turn laundry day into recreation time, maybe," she quips, "but not disappoint.”

He still looks unsure after, and to that, she takes his hand in hers and squeezes it.

She’s fought beside him when the odds were at their lowest. Even gone against him when things didn’t feel right, and taken her discipline afterwards with her head held high, like a soldier should. But to wrap her fingers over his, the way ordinary civilians do with each other, is not something she’s ever done. Her own hand shakes, clammy and unused to holding anything that isn't a weapon in their grip. It is a lot like his.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she says in a tone as if that's his fault. His low grumbling complains, "and you think I do?" at her, but he keeps their fingers linked tightly.

When they return to the hideout, half the camp looks up inquisitively, wondering why the commander doesn’t have the imprint of a fist on his face. The other half goes about their day, unfazed that their illustrious Ves is wearing the commander’s overcoat.

[elvendara]

Mysme Fictober Oct 19th

For @mysme-fictober 2020 prompts

Day 19: Ghostbusters

“Why would anyone want to get rid of me?” Zen complained. “Look at me, I’m gorgeous!” he ran his fingers through his hair as he stared at himself in the mirror. Thankfully, he was still able to see himself. The world would never be so cruel as to forbid him to ever view himself again.

“There!” a beam of green light passed an inch from his beautiful face. Saeyoung scowled having missed him again.

“Stop it! Don’t you remember who I am?” he screamed at them, but they didn’t seem to hear him.

“I told you you should get new glasses! Your aim is way off!” Saeran complained as he trained his own beam at the ghost and pulled the trigger.

Zen pushed through the wall with a resigned sigh. Maybe he could get through to Jaehee instead. He floated down the building to the first floor and went through the wall back inside. It was relatively empty but the few people in the lobby took note of him and began to scream. Zen slumped his shoulders, he’d never had people run away from him like this, had he really changed that much? Was he no longer beautiful? But no, that couldn’t be it, he’d seen his reflection, he was still stunning, even dead.

“What are you two doing up there? The ghost is in the lobby!” Jaehee said out loud, she much be wearing an earbud and communicating with the twins. He couldn’t hear their response, but he didn’t need to. There was very little time, what could he do to show Jaehee who he was before they annihilated him.

A lightbulb when on over his head and he began to do the choreography from his last movie. Jaehee had helped him get the timing and rhythm down so she was definitely familiar with the moves. Jaehee had begun to back up away from him but had not run like the others. She didn’t appear to have a weapon on her, which was good because Zen was out of options at the moment, unless he wanted to just leave.

He was in the middle of his routine when he noticed that Jaehee’s body language had changed.

“What the hell?” she uttered. Good, it was working, she was questioning.

“Come on Jaehee, it’s me! You know me!” he kept up the routine and watched as her eyes blinked rapidly, her head shaking in disbelief.

“No…it…it can’t be.”

The elevators opened up behind him and he increased his pleading though he knew she couldn’t hear him.

“Oh my God!” Jaehee’s hands covered her mouth as her eyes widened in understanding. “STOP!” she ran towards the twins, passing within inches of Zen. She pushed their weapons down and turned to face the ghost.

“What the hell?” Saeran said, still trying to raise his weapon, he could clearly see the ghost and it was not moving.

“It’s him. It’s Zen.” Jaehee said, leaving the twins stunned.

“How do you know? His form is just vaguely human shaped.” Saeyoung asked, conflicted on what to do.

“It’s him, I can see him clearly now. Oh Zen!” she walked towards him. “What happened to you was so unfair, you had so many years ahead of you.” Zen could only agree as he nodded. Had he been able to, he would be shedding tears now.

“Well…fuck.” Saeran dropped the weapon by his leg, “What do we do now? I don’t want to vaporize Zen, but…he can’t stay here.”

“I can talk to Mr. Han, maybe we can accommodate Zen in some way.” Jaehee suggested. Zen rolled his eyes. He’d come here so he could haunt the CEO in line. It was the only thing he could think of that might bring him some happiness and pleasure in the afterlife, things were boring on this side. But what fun would it be if Jumin Han allowed him to stay? He gritted his teeth.

“I don’t think he liked that.” Saeyoung laughed, noting the expression on the ghost’s face. “Wait! I can see him clearly now too!”

“Me too.” Saeran said. Zen smiled at them all. Thankful that at least his friends recognized him. “I’m so sorry about what happened to you Zen.”

Zen nodded, grateful for the commiseration. The accident had happened so fast it was over in a matter of seconds. There was very little left of his motorcycle and it was a miracle he had not died instantly, unfortunately, he had gone through a grueling few days before his brain finally gave out. He hovered above his hospital bed and watched as the doctors tried everything they could to bring him back. He felt the pull of it but didn’t surrender, deciding he was happy to end where he was. He was a success, and you know what they said, the good always die young. He would remain forever young in the eyes of his fans; it wasn’t so bad.

He had however not considered what his death would do to his friends. His funeral was devastating to witness, though even Jumin Han said nice things about him. The way the three were now looking at him began to make him uncomfortable, he didn’t want them to be sad.

“What are you waiting for? It’s right there, get rid of it so my employees can get back to work.” Jumin walked up to the three surrounding the ghost.

“Mr. Han, they can’t…it’s…it’s Zen.” Jaehee said.

“What nonsense, it’s just another ghost, get rid of it! That’s what I’m paying you for isn’t it?” Zen clenched his jaw. “Just like usual, trust fund kid, only thinking about yourself.” All four turned towards Zen, mouths gaping open.

“Did…I…” Jaehee couldn’t finish her sentence.

“Wait, did you hear me?” Zen asked. The four looked at each other, then back to him and all nodded. “Well isn’t that something. Now I can really have fun.” He grinned and winked at Jumin.

“Great.” Jumin said.

“Do you still want us to uh…vaporize him?” Saeyoung asked, knowing full well what the answer was going to be.

“Of course not! Assistant Kang would probably quit on me if I allowed that. If you’re going to hang around here from now on, maybe I should have more mirrors installed.” Jumin huffed and walked away. Zen grimaced, but he had to admit, there was a lack of reflective surfaces.

“Welcome to C&R Zen.” Saeyoung laughed. Zen felt a sudden rush of warmth. Ok, he was dead, but it wasn’t all bad. And he had eternity to torment Jumin and hang out with his biggest fan. Not such a bad after life after all.