#i just wish one day someone would like me enough to listen to me rambling without thinking/making me feel like im annoying

[kunikame]

rant & slight idolish7 spoilers warning !!!!!

i verbally cannot describe how much comfort i7 brings me, genuinely. no matter how many times i watch it i just dont get bored of it, instead i notice new details and see new meanings behind certain words, scenes and actions. i love the characters so much ... theyre just so ... so adorable and relatable, you cant avoid them growing on you. the songs too !!!! the songs and characters make me so so happy, i adore them !

sogo and his violent impulses 😭 its always the quiet and composed people i swear. him collapsing from stress is very relatable. i admire his reasoning for doing music, i wish i had the same resolve HAHAHA except i vant even bring myself to tinker with my piano anymore :,)

tamaki and his childishness. it might be annoying to some, and he is very hard to deal with for sogo, but i think its endearing. hes self aware about being a bit on the dumber side but still tries his best .. i just wanna give him a hug and headpats and i hope he and aya get to be together again soon :( let the siblings be happy fr ...

yamato and his sincere want for the others to be happy and successful. what started out as a revenge mission became genuine affection toward the other 6 and i think thats amazing. he just gradually took on the role of the older brother/tired dad without even realizing and now hes stuck with them doing his best to ensure their happiness because he genuinely loves them :(

nagi and his comedic relief and wise moments ! i think nagi is reduced to simply comedic relief by most as he is just a silly pretty boy 80% of the time but hes actually very smart and theres so much we still dont know about him !! i sure hope we get some insights to him soon. and haruki aswell !!! i need to know more abt their friendship and the songs and everything !!

iori and his cute traits. he may be the youngest but he acts like the most mature (after yamato and sogo ofc) and his sincere want to ensure the success of i7 is admirable if im being honest. i adore his less composed moments though! makes me realize even picture perfect people have their quirks :) i love his friendly banters with riku and how he likes cute things and stationary and how he takes care of riku and mitsuki and and i love iori a normal amount i promise

riku and his sincerity. whatever hes feeling, you can just tell. hes so easy to take care of and while he might be insecure, hes really what holds them all together. he just shines as their center and hes so precious and his energy just makes you all warm n fuzzy and his smile just radiates joy and . i wish i could keep him in my pockets and carry him around.

mitsuki and the way i relate to him. the insecurities and being swallowed by them, running away from my problems and being the 2nd choice or not even a choice at all, not feeling good enough and just being average at everything i do, always being outshined and everything. hes so effortlessly funny and precious and i love his energy and his pretty smile and the way hes just so .. sunshine. yknow? i kin him can you tell

i could talk about i7 for ages but this is tumblr and not a fic so nobody will read it anyway HAHAHA i feel like im writing a diary entry or something. i could go on and on about how happy this show makes me even if i cry because of those specific mezzo n mitsuki insecure arcs but im gonna keep it short for this post haha

sorry i nerded out on the tl! if you read this i hope i piqued your interest in i7 (if i didnt still thank you for reading!) and if you didnt i hopr you have a great day after scrolling /gen

maybe one day when someone asks me abt i7 irl ill go on a longer rant and my eyes will sparkle and ill wave my hands around animatedly while talking about the show but then ill realize im rambling and im probably annoying and theyre not really interested but theyll be looking at me and asking me why i stopped talking except that wont happen bc fics arent real and i genuinely am annoying to most people HAHAHAHA !!!!!!!!!!

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader

Ao3 Link

Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans

WC: 18k

Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.

Rainy days in the United Kingdom we're far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?

"I don't have one."

"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.

"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.

"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.

"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.

"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.

"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.

"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."

Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.

"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.

"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.

"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.

"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.

"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.

"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.

"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.

"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.

"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.

"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.

"Told you so."

You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"

"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."

"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."

It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.

"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."

"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.

"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"

"Isn't this illegal?"

"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.

"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.

"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.

Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."

"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"

"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."

"What?"

"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."

Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.

"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.

"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.

"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.

"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"

"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.

"Yeah?"

"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.

"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."

A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.

You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.

"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.

"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.

"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"

"I'm not."

"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"

"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.

"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.

"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."

"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"

"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.

The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."

He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."

"Good."

"Simon?"

The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.

"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.

"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.

Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.

"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.

"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."

You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."

"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."

You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."

"And my dad?"

"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.

You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.

You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.

"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.

"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.

The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.

Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.

You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.

Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."

You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."

You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.

"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"

"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."

Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"

"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."

"That's not true."

"I think it is."

Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.

"Of course."

You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.

Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."

"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.

"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."

You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.

You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.

The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.

"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.

"Then lets go."

You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.

When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."

"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."

"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.

You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.

It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.

Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.

It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.

You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."

You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.

Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.

You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.

The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.

It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.

That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.

No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.

The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”

“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.

“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.

“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.

“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.

The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”

The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.

“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”

“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.

“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.

“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.

“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”

The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.

“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”

“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”

“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.

You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.

That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.

“I didn’t want to lose.”

“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”

“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?

“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.

���I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”

“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.

You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”

“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.

At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.

He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”

“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.

Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.

“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”

“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”

“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”

“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”

“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”

“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.

“They gave him a hard time too.”

“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?

Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.

He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.

“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”

“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.

“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”

Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.

Who are you Ghost?

”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”

You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.

“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.

“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”

”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.

“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.

”What are you? My aunt?”

”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.

”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.

”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.

You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.

Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.

He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.

Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.

You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”

You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.

”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.

”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.

”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”

”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”

”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”

”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”

”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.

Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.

It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.

He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.

You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.

You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.

You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.

You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.

Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.

When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”

”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.

”Need to know.”

”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.

”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”

”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.

”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”

”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”

”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.

”What?”

”Forget about it.”

”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”

”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs

”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.

He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.

Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.

”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.

”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”

”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”

”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”

”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“

”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”

”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.

”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.

That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.

He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.

And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.

Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.

The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.

Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.

The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.

He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.

The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.

You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.

You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”

”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.

“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms

Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.

It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.

He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.

Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.

When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.

He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.

”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.

You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.

Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.

He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.

”Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.

He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.

His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.

”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.

He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.

Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.

“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.

You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.

”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.

It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.

It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.

He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.

He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.

“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.

You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.

”I love you.”

Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”

It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.

”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.

”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.

”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”

”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.

”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.

”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.

Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.

God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.

”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.

You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon

”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.

”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.

”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.

”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.

You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.

He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”

”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”

You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”

”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.

”I love you so much Simon Riley.”

His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”

[letstripdotcom]

truth- matt sturniolo x fem!reader

a/n- i’m obsessed with matt in this car video⬆️

summary- you’re curious on how good your sex is so you ask the one person who you know will be brutally honest.

warnings- smut. that’s all🕺🕺

-

“i wish i could be a man but not me so then I could have sex with myself and tell myself if it’s good or not” i rambled on the phone with one of my best friends, nick sturniolo.

“y/n what the fuck?” he laughed. “i mean i- i don’t know it’s just a thought.” i sighed. “well if i liked women i would have sex with you” “thanks nick” i giggled

“why not just ask someone you’ve had sex with?” he asked very casually. “i don’t know i just feel like they wouldn’t be brutally honest” “yeah i guess you’re right. i mean you could always just ask a friend do have sex with you” he suggested.

“yeah, but who?” there was a moment of silence and thinking “mason?” he tilted his head “i haven’t talked to him in months, i feel like that would be way too awkward.” there was another brief pause “noah is cool what about him?”

“i’m pretty sure he had something going on with paisley.” “well fuck” nick said. “well i love you dearly but i gotta go. talk you you later love youuu!” he hung up the phone. i sat down an let out a long sigh. i don’t know why i was so bothered by this.

-

i pondered on the subject for days, until i found answers upon overhearing a conversation between matt and chris. i didn’t hear the whole thing but i did manage to overhear matt say “do you ever wonder if your dick is too small but everyone who has seen it is just to embarrassed to tell you?”

matt! it was perfect. i needed answers and so did he. the plan was to have sex with matt and you would tell him if his dick is small and he’ll tell me if my sex is any good. but how would i even approach that? “hey matt let’s have sex because we’re both insecure” yeah no

i sat on the sturniolos couch as you waited for the pair to go up to their rooms. when they were finally settled in upstairs, i started thinking of how you were going to ask matt. i decided to just go for it.

-

matty b

you

hey matt are you up?

matty

yeah what’s up?

you

well this may seem insane so you can say no if you want but i overheard you talking to chris earlier and i was wondering if we could make a deal.

matty

i’m listening

you

so i was wondering if we could like have sex? and i could tell you if your dick is small and you tell me if my sex is good. and we have to be brutally honest

matty

upstairs in 10?

you

see you then.

-

i shut off my phone and mentally prepared myself for what was to come. normally having sex never made me nervous, but first thing, this is matt. second thing, he’s actually gonna be brutally honest. what if i’m awful? and as bad as it sounds, what if his dick is small?

after 10 minutes passed, i headed upstairs to matt’s room. i knocked on his door and he opened it shortly after, wearing grey pajama pants and no shirt. i examined his body carefully.

the veins in his tattooed arm that’s holding the door open. the way his pants hung low on his small waist, revealing part of his boxers. his v line. his messy hair. i started to get nervous. please don’t be bad. i said to myself.

“we’ll come in” he said nervously, stepping out of the way. “so how are we gonna go about this?” i shrugged. “well we could-“ matt stopped. his hand reached out and cupped the back of my head, pulling me into a kiss.

once i eased into it, it was nice. matt’s lips were soft and plump, and he was very gentle. his unoccupied hand made its way to my waist, gently rubbing it. his tongue grazed my bottom lip, asking for access to the inside of my mouth. i let him in, and his tongue explored all of my mouth.

matt was a really good kisser and it was really turning me on. he gently made his way from my lips, to my jaw to my neck. he suckled gently enough not the leave any marks. i let out a quiet breathy moan.

he positioned both hands under my shirt and slid it off my body. he started to kiss the bare skin on my chest. wow he knows what he’s doing. he guided me to his bed and sat me on top of him.

i raked my nails gently down his bare chest, meeting the waistline of his pants. i looked at him for permission to continue and he nodded. i pulled his pants off, leaving him in his boxers.

i leaned forward and kissed him, grinding on his bulge that was only being held back by one thin layer of clothing. he grunted which seemed like a good sign

he reached around me and unhooked my bra, sliding it off. his mouth left mine and attached to one of my nipples, his hand massaging the other. i tossed my head back in pleasure. “fuck mattt” i whined. he hummed around my nipple causing me to grind harder onto him.

he separated from my chest and looked me in the eyes. “ready?” he asked “y-yeah” i nodded. he slipped down my shorts and underwear and i removed his boxers.

his dick sprung up and slapped his stomach. i swallowed nervously. definitely isn’t small. all the more reasons to be nervous. i looked at it with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape.

“well?” he muttered. “umm..” i paused trying to find words “definitely not small. like at all. you have nothing to worry about” i rambled “okay” he laughed. “well, my turn i guess” i sigh, lifting myself up. i slowly start to sink my way onto him. he lets out a broken whimper.

“i- fuck f-feels so good already” he gasps. i exhale the breath i didn’t know i was holding. i adjust to his size before bouncing slowly, wincing at the slight stretch. i moan at the feeling of my sticky walls hugging him.

i gradually speed up my pace. his hips start to buck upwards, meeting me halfway. this helps achieve a deeper angle. “g-good. you feel so good baby” i moan and clench at the way he said ‘baby’

“keep clenching and i won’t last much longer” he breathes. “i’m so close” i moan. “fuck y/n” he whines. i clench again, my stomach muscles tightening. “f-fuck say my name like that again” i beg “y-y/n” he moans, his voice cracking.

i came all over his dick, my legs a twitching mess. “yes yes yes. fuck matt” i whine as i ride his to his release. “i’m cumming. f-fuck yes. oh feels so good” he shouts praises as he cums. i lift myself off of him and sit down, catching my breath.

“so?” i asked. “fuck that was amazing, you have nothing to worry about. he lets out shaky breaths and collapses into my chest.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

a/n- didn’t know how to end this but enjoy 😜

[walpu]

Hi, it’s me again!! >_<

When I tell you I gobbled that headcannon post up, I went down on two knees and howled /hj

Anyways, do you think you can do some headcannons on Aventurine with Bodyguard! Reader if you have the time? But this time, with a twist :3

See, reader does care for Aven, you truly do, but before that, you were tasked by Everflame mansion and by Duke inferno himself to kill Aventurine. But you can’t bring yourself to, no, not when you’ve fallen head over heels for him.

When reader does become Aven’s bodyguard, you maintain that serious, no nonsense demeanor, but if he looks closely enough, he’ll see the lovestruck puppy hiding under the hardened shell that they’ve put on.

But the guilt catches up. One day, at least a few months after reader’s betrayal to Duke Inferno, you catch sight of an assassin sent to finish the job they couldn’t do. And so, the secret is finally revealed.

Personally, I think Aventurine would be betrayed, like very, how could he not be? He’s always kept people at an arm’s length away, and when he finally lets you in his walls, and starts falling for thier charm, this secret of yours comes out. He fires you almost immediately, but the way he stares after you with misty eyes doesn’t go unnoticed.

The next months were absolute hell. Reader found a new job as a barista, and is quite enjoying the quaint and simply life it provides, even if you do miss Aventuirne. He’s probably still seething at you, right?.

Wrong. Because you’ve gone MIA, Aventurine been scouring all over the place, trying so hard to find you. He’s loosing sleep, forgetting to eat, all things that you would chide him about. Aeons, he misses you so much.

And when he does find you, he’s overjoyed, and when the two finally reunite, the first thing you do is to apologize deceiving him. But he forgave your silly ass a long time ago, why else would he have spent the last months trying to find you?

Long story short, it’s a happy ending, Aventurine couldn’t be more grateful he has you to be his bodyguard, his closest confidant, and most importantly, his lover <33

I’m so sorry if I went on a ramble, but this idea’s been plaguing me so bad I literally can’t focus on anything else 😭😭

I'VE BEEN LOOKING FORWAR TO WRITIG FOR THIS REQUEST SINCE THE MOMENT I SAW IT I ADORE YOUR BODYGUARD!READER x AVEN SERIES btw thank you for sharing the c.ai bot

I feel like the only thing I do with each post is apologize for taking so long but right now I like from work trip to work trip so I'm actually really really sorry this madness should end soon 😭😭😭😭 Hope you'll enjoy this post, it was my goal to finish it before version 2.1

bodyguard/assassin!reader x Aventurine

characters - Aventurine notes- gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, pining, no beta

It was not a fast prosses for the both of to form a genuine connection. Moreover, you know goddamn well you shouldn't get attached to him.

And at first it seems easy, like yeah another rich playboy, no big deal, you've delt with people like him before, right? Right??????????????

Yeah until suddenly he's not just a rich playboy.

The more you notice how deeply lonely and unhappy he is, the more your heart softens towards him. And the more your heart softens, the more he relaxes around you, seeing behind your cold exterior.

He's not used to people caring about him. And yes, of course he knows it's your job but still, for a man who never had a real friend before, he surely can appreciate having someone who not only won't leave him but also will listen to him and look after him.

And the part about you being paid to do it? Oh well. It's the same guy who offers you to use him as you wish and who's greeting line is "I can play a role of a friend :)"

Mf is FRIENDLESS, LONELY and PATHETIC /affectionally

He'll take what he can get okay.

But goddamn. Don't think he doesn't notice how you started going out of your ways to take care of him. How you make him eat, tend to his small injuries ("my, my, you're my bodyguard, not a doctor. perhaps someone wants a raise, hm?~"), how you drag him out of casino or his office when it's too late.

It drives him crazy. It's not beneficial for you, right? The w h y.

He won't ask. Instead he will watch and slowly fold.

You are probably suffering tho lol. You should just kill him already, you've had so many opportunities to end him. Instead you spoon feed him soup because he claims he has a hangover after a night in the casino. And this little brat looks so smug about it too!!!!

Sometimes he feels like it's too good to be true: you being here, taking care of him, looking after him. The line between professional relationship, friendship and... something more is way too blurry already, and he knows it's dangerous but it just feels so good. Too good.

Duke inferno gets tired eventually. He sends someone to remind you of your mission. To remind you who you really work for.

Well, the duke receives a warning of his own. The dead body of his little messenger.

You know, of course, that the Everflame mansion thugs are not easily intimidated. They will be back. So you better warn Aventurine and tell him everything.

You can't keep lying to him, can you?

Well. It's surprisingly not as easy as you thought. After all, even if they will send someone, you'll just protect Aven like you always do, right? He doesn't have to know. Not about your past, not about your original mission. He keeps his secrets too, so why can't you?

You know goddamn well why tho. You know and yet you still can't bring yourself to tell him the truth.

It goes on like that for several months and Aventurine notices that something is clearly off, something is bothering his darling protector. He tries to pry, to tease, to cling, to pester you. Something to make you open up. Or, at least, get distracted. He can't help but feel anxious. Why are you suddenly so reversed? Do you want to leave his side? Does he not pay you enough? Does he bother you too much? It eats him alive while he tries to mask it by pestering you even more. As if to test you. As if to make sure that it's not the case.

All the hell breaks loose one day when you discover that Duke inferno has sent another assassin to finish the job.

I you spare the details but yeah, your secret was unraveled. And it wasn't pretty at all.

You have never seen emotions so vivid on Aven's face. Part of you always wanted to see him more vulnerable, more open with you. But not like this. Not this look of utter betrayal.

He collects himself quick enough, hiding behind the mask of mock disappointment.

"Hm, well, I recall mentioning that treachery is just another tool of the trade. But it seems like our little deal is not paying off for me anymore" he says with a cold chuckle, shaking his head a little. "After all, you have very little to offer outside of your dog-like loyalty. But seems like this dog bit both hands that fed it".

You were expecting him to call for your arrest but instead he just fires you. It hurts nevertheless.

What hurts even more is that look he gives you when you part ways. It's like his pretty eyes are even more lifeless now.

At first he feels this overwhelming emptiness. It truly feels like the fate is mocking him. One time, just one time, he allowed himself to relax around someone. Just this one time, with this one person who took care of him, who listened to him, who looked out for him. And this person was supposed to kill him.

Then his stupid brain finds another way to torture him. He keeps thinking about the way you have always protected him, the way you took the hit even during the last attack, when Duke Inferno's new assassin tried to get to him. You were ready to leave your past life behind to stay by his side, weren't you?

As soon as he realizes it he goes frantic. Of course he tries to find you asap but of course someone as competent as you would be able to disappear without a trace in no time. You were an assassin, after all. A skilled one too, since he never even suspected you.

This connection the two of you had, this realization that you really cared enough to betray your client, all of this makes him realize that he needs you so, so much. He needs to feel this care again, he need to look at you again, to know that you're here by his side.

He misses you so much. Your nagging, your reassurance, your touch. He's like an addict who felt what it feels like to love and beloved in return for the first time and now he can't live without it.

He doesn't eat or sleep properly, his head plagued by the thoughts about you. What if you forgot all about him? What if you're wounded? Where are you even? His fingers itch to trace your face and your scars.

He thinks about how you would scold him for not taking proper care of himself and it makes him miss you even more.

Aven finds you after a few months. It was honestly a coincidence, one of his subordinates saw you in the coffee shop you were working at.

He though that finding you will calm him down but seeing you from afar, looking somewhat peaceful and cozy, having a regular job... it's too much. And what if you really don't need him anymore? Maybe you never did? After all, he's painfully aware that he probably needs you much more than you need him.

And yet, he decides to take this risk. He's a gambler, after all.

"Somehow I'm not surprised you're good even at that. How come you have never made me coffee before, hm?"

You literally freeze on the spot after hearing this familiar voice next to you.

When you finally get to talk, you can see he's really trying to look calm and collected but how can he? His hands are shaky and his voice cracks. It breaks your heart.

He doesn't even let you finish your apology, pressing a finger to your lips.

"Hush, darling. All is forgiven. In fact, I even have an interesting proposal. I'm can be a generous man after all".

He can't fool you. Not with this shaky soft voice. And he knows it as well.

Please hug that fool and kiss him. Swear that you won't ever leave him again. Swear that you want to be by his side. As his bodyguard, as his friend, as something more. So much more. That's all he really need to feel like he's at home.

[trulyumai]

Oh, Mr. Mosses (Series) III

Synopsis: You were fine with the job, the steps were easy enough but the secret  of the D.D.D was getting harder and harder to contain. Each night a new entity would enter the building, each with its own horrific look and intentions. Just as you debate on leaving, a new resident has entered the premises; Francis Mosses who is absolutely entranced by your being.

Will you be as smitten of him as he is of you? Only time will tell.

Taglist: @tfamidoingwithmylife @mariaflor873 @fandomfeind @greycloudsy (Let me know if you want to be added!)

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Death

Oh, Mr. Mosses III

He shook under her touch. She lightly padded her fingers across his chest, going lower until they were right above his trousers. “You're so cute, Francis.” She mumbled, fumbling her hands with his belt, moving his undergarments lower and lower. He puffed, ignoring the comment, he could feel his face getting warm again. Lowering his hands, they met the underside of her thighs, so plush, so very soft. 

“Please- ah! Please sweetheart,” He whispered, staring up at her lovingly. And although it came out as a beg, he began moving her clothes away himself, not waiting for an answer. 

“Ah, ah, ah, patience darling.” She tutted, skirting his hands back to where they once were, each on one either side of her hips.

He groaned, letting his hands reside there as the warmth in his chest got unbearable. She was gorgeous, the moonlight peaked in behind his window, falling down and mirroring her gorgeous image. She was like an old painting, sitting there staring down at him. A nymph, a goddess. 

And if it wasn't for the incessant beeping, he could have came right then and there just staring up at her. Those eyes, that slender neck, her chest-

Jolting upright he cursed. So fucking close, yet so far. With a sigh he leaned his legs over to the side of his bed. Covered in sweat he grimaced, ever since his meeting with the darling receptionist he's had these dreams, visions. He'd wake up in the same state; desperate, sweaty and needy. And oh so close to release. 

With his elbows on his knees he sighed once more while looking at the clock, just beside his bedside. The red numbers mocked him and read out 4:30AM. 

Today was going to be a long day. 

“The reports my dear, were utterly ruined I tell you! Such an incompetent assistant I have, truly.” Mr. Gauss was a loud man, too loud for the poor receptionist to handle at the moment. He spoke of his job, his reports almost every meeting they would be unfortunate to have. With a sigh she handed his papers once more, yet it went unnoticed as he rambled on about his assistant. The poor lady who had spilled coffee over his reports this morning. 

“Mr. Gauss,” She shook the ID in her hands once more, in case this time he would notice. He didn't. 

“I'll tell you, the job couldn't be easier I mean, you should know shouldn't you darling? It's just a simple desk job!” 

“Mr Gauss!” With a firm tone she pursed her lips, finally getting the older man's attention. 

“Your papers, sir.” 

“Oh how silly of me, thank you sweetheart! Listen, I'm getting a call but I'll see you soon my dear!” With a wink he was off, his attention already diverting to the phone that he pulled from his gray and black suit pocket. 

Groaning, she slouched back down on her chair. Easy, she wished it was as simple as he made it. With no screaming residents, bloody faces and hands being slammed in her direction. Just the other day a mimic cried to her, screaming she was a murderer. It begged to be let in. “I'll die out there, please you don't understand!” Its tone was racked with fear, it shook with plenty of emotion and if it wasn't covered in someone's blood, she might have thought to let it inside. It went out with a fight too, one of the guards bodies had to be dragged out, their yellow hazmat suit stained in maroon. Everytime she blinked she could see his body, crumpled up in the corner of the lobby, limbs hanging limply at their sides, mask torn.

It was getting late, and soon she could go home, take a nice bath, forget about the color red for a while. 

“Excuse me,”

“SHIT!” She jumped, not noticing the man standing just in front of the window. Holding her chest she cried out. 

“Francis, jesus christ you startled me,” 

With a light frown he reached out, letting his palm splay over the clear glass. “I'm sorry, sweetheart, are you okay?” Sweetheart? That was new, she thought, calming her chest as quickly as she could. 

“It's okay I was just- I zoned out it seems,” she smiled, it was light, a comfort to the man in front of her. 

With a small smile of his own he grabbed his forms, sliding them through the slot per usual. 

“You're early, no one wanted any milk today?” She blinked up at him, grabbing the forms while staring blatantly at the taller man. His uniform was normal, the hat laid atop his black hair and his eyes were as tired as ever. 

“You could say that,” The milkman mumbled, leaning comfortably over the counter, looking down at her as she compared the forms. 

She began reading his ID, slowly as practiced, mouthing each number as she went. 

235569-

“Hey.” Looking up she noticed how close the man got, closer than ever before. His face was practically touching the glass. 

“Hi?” She looked at him confusedly, tilting her head to the side unconsciously. 

“I'm free now. For the coffee?” 

That's right! The date, she had nearly forgotten after the day she had. It slipped her mind, she would have worn something cuter, more revealing than this old sweater she's had stuffed in her closet. It was cold today, lightly sprinkling with rain from time to time so she grabbed the next best thing to keep her warm, not even thinking she would see Francis today. 

“Oh! Um, yeah I have some back here if you'd like?” Skipping over the numbers she started comparing them.

23556941989-

BANG. 

Francis hand made contact with the glass, his pale fingers flexed as they made contact, nails digging lightly into the material.

Noticing her hesitancy he laughed. “There was a bug, didn't mean to startle you. Again.” 

Where was she again? At nine? No, perhaps the eight.

“Everything looks in order,” she mumbled, slowly glancing back up at the milkman. Smiling, she slid the papers to the side, fumbling for the keys around her pocket. 

“One moment and i'll open the door okay?” 

Francis said nothing but nodded, flexing his hands as she made her way towards the wooden door just to his left. With a click the door was open, Francis was already on the other side by the time it unlatched. Maybe he was just eager, she thought. That would be cute, no man had been eager to see her before, so the newfound feeling was exhilarating. 

Standing aside she gestured him in. My was he much taller face to face, she only came up to his shoulders, if that. He stepped in, walking just past her towards the room on the side, where the little kitchen resided. 

Closing the door she followed, humming a little tune as she grabbed coffee cups just past him. “How do you like your- oof!” Turning to talk to the man she was met with his chest, when had me moved so close? 

“I'll get that, sweetheart,” He mumbled lowly, his voice just barely above a whisper. So quite, so low. 

“Oh, um, okay” Without thinking she passed him the mugs, not even realizing she forgot to tell him her coffee preference before walking towards the door once more, to the front desk. 

“I'm gonna make sure no one needs any help, I'll be right back!”

With a hum, the man got to work on the drinks, it was only then she noticed his hands. Veiner than normal, his nails were a little longer too, had they always been so sharp? 

Turning her head she padded her way to the desk, to the forms residing on her desk. 

Francis form stared back at her, along with his ID. Dusting her fingers over the numbers she read again.

235569418995

Now the other one 

235569418895

No, she had to be mistaken. Reading it again, and again, the paper was starting to crumple with the amount of force she exerted from her fingers. 

The numbers, she noticed, the numbers, there off by one number. How did she miss it?! Biting her lip she looked back towards the kitchen. The room had gone silent, she prayed she still had time. The D.D.D had to act fast, she still could live, it couldn't be too late. Glancing back in front of her she reached out, just before her hand met with the phone she felt it. 

The pressure of someone standing behind her. 

A breath on her neck.

Light nails digging into the side of her hips. 

“Don't spoil the mood, pretty girl,” Francis sneered. 

“Our night has just begun after all.”

She couldn't help but shake, she didn't want to die, this creature whatever it was wasn't prone to showing mercy. Any kindness whatsoever. 

“Your coffee will get cold,” He teased, lightly reaching his hand up, playing with the hair around her face before displaying itself on her cheeks, tightly grabbing them until her lips protruded with the pressure. 

“Such a daft little thing,” He tutted.

“Cute, but oh, so daft.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she felt tears spring loose, dribbling down her cheeks until they made contact with Francis' hand. 

He laughed, a deep somber one before he craned his neck down, licking the salty liquid from her face. His slimy tongue stopped just before her eye, where she finally opened it to see him smiling at her. 

His teeth. Jesus Christ they were so sharp. All of them pointy and white, each one more jagged than the other. 

“I'm tempted to keep you, you’d be a good little listener wouldn't you?” With a mocking tone he squeezed her cheeks harder, until little red crescents were indented on her face. 

"You're so good for me, so obedient." He moaned, rubbing his other hand around her body, going lower, and lower.

“Ah-!”

“Quiet!” He seethed, glancing now to the front desk. The window. It was then she noticed, a silhouette peering over the desk. A resident waiting to be checked in. 

“Please,” She begged, more tears streamed down her soft face.

“Don't hurt me.” 

Looking back over his squinted eyes, his pupils were dilated and his mouth slightly open and set in a frown.

“What the fuck did I say-

“Hello?” A masculine voice rang out. Francis. With widened eyes she gripped the hand covering her mouth, felt the roughness of the hand and shook. 

The other Francis heaved, with anger he gripped the receptionist's face once more. Hands bloody he slid his thumb over her lips, lightly parting it and pushing the digit forward.

The taste of iron invaded her senses, wincing she tried to pull back but was only met with resistance. 

“I'll be back, sweet thing.” He promised, pulling his finger back he looked at it with wild eyes. Putting it up to his own lips before sucking them clean. 

“You be a good girl, you here?” He laughed, lightly smacking her cheek before entering the back. Towards the kitchen.

Without thought she ran to the desk, meeting the eyes of Francis, the real Francis. 

Noticing her wide eyes and bloody mouth he looked with concern, eyebrows leaving a frown mark on his face.

“Are you alright?”

She wanted comfort, wanted help. With a light shake to her fingers she took his ID, not bothering to compare the numbers. 

The rules. If she uddered anything about the mimics, the D.D.D, she would face even more backlash than she faced now. How was she supposed to bring this up to management, let alone Francis. 

Gathering her thoughts she passed the ID back through. Putting on her best face she smiled at him, though it looked more like a grimace. 

“Yes, just… A long day. You're free to pass,” With a touch of a button the elevator was left open. 

Francis eyed her once more. 

“Mmh, okay. You can call me if you need anything. I'm just a floor away.” Grabbing his ID he shifted uncomfortably. His tongue felt heavy and the words he wanted to say seemed to get stuck on the top of his mouth. With a tired gaze and small wave, the receptionist moved out of his sight and he couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Maybe he'll ask for a coffee next time.

[jeongharine]

a fruit made for two

⚝ jeonghan x reader

⚝ comfort, romance, established couple

⚝ notes: you might think "how lame" when you will be done with it, or "can she write about anything else other than tangerines" and yes, while i acknowledge my problem with tangerines, i can tell you that i'm done writing about them. but enough of my rambles, just wanted to post this little (maybe a bit sad) scenario that i have come up with during these days.

wishing you a good start of the year and a not so rough january (i personally dread this month) :)

enjoy and thank you for taking time to read this short fic x

you have always liked to peel tangerines neatly. jeonghan was focusing his attention on your fingers work. the sections coming apart cleanly in your hands.

he’s trying to cut out the noise, the laughters of the other guests at the table, the cracking open of the nuts, the clinking of the glasses and the cutlery, your aunt bragging about your cousins to your mom and your nan nearly tripping into the dog.

“that’s the limit, from then on her eyesight will worsen to blindness and there’s nothing they can do,” that’s what your father had told jeonghan before christmas lunch.

he reasoned you didn’t have the courage to confront jeonghan with the matter. so, he took it in his hands.

your thick eye-glasses nearly falling off your nose while you’re peeling away neatly the white parts.

“hannie,” you said, “i don’t know how you do it. always tearing holes when you peel tangerines and oranges, juice going in every direction,”

you’re jeonghan’s love of his life.

“i hope you never learn how to peel them, hannie. i want to do it for you for a lifetime.”

x

“where’d you get these?” you nearly shouted in the college backyard, while jeonghan handed you an orange.

“just took them out of a plastic bag someone left behind in class,” he said.

you laughed. you started to peel the orange, separating it in two perfect halves to give one of them to him. “you know, when i won’t be able to see no more i will miss terribly peeling citrus..”

if he could have wore his half like a friendship bracelet, he would have. “i mean, i still will be able to do it but man how it satisfies me to see the colour of the fruit changing: different shades of orange, white and then orange again,”

instead, jeonghan just swallowed each segment one by one and told himself that this, this exact moment, would have always meant so much more.

“... and your face, to see your face so focused on how i peel citrus fruits! i have to start giving you lesson,”

to share it with you. to chew and to swallow with you the sections that you so dutifully and accurately peeled, listening to all the possible rambles you might have had to tell him. to just taste the same thing in the same moment.

“here you go hannie,” you handed to jeonghan his perfectly peeled half.

the air around you filled up with the smell of peeled orange.

x

it was christmas’ eve. no festivities at home this year. closing the front door, jeonghan longed to hear your hasty steps down the corridor.

longing to slip an orange or a tangerine into the pocket of your wool coat before heading to town.

instead, he ignited the engine of his car and drove to the hospital where you had been staying. your eyesight barely spots of colour and light by now.

you were looking out the window into the wintery morning haze with a smile on your lips, when jeonghan entered the room. “hannie you’re here,” you recognized his footsteps and his scent. the sweetest kind.

he brought tangerines with him, peeled three of them in his car. he peeled them perfectly, peeled away every little part of the white stuff until they were all orange like you did. so you wouldn’t have to worry about not enjoy one of his favourite things.

it took him some time, but love always does.

[nicklesbam]

“YES!!” I shouted, standing from my chair immediately. I got accepted into Godolkin University. It’s been a dream of mine for a while now

“What?” My older sister came rushing in. I smiled wide at her while she looked confused

“I GOT ACCEPTED!!” She started smiling and hugged me

“I’m so proud of you!” We both celebrated together for a while

Soon it came the day for me to pack the last of my things. I was excited, nervous, maybe even a little seldom for leaving home but it was finally time. I said my goodbyes to my sister and started my way to Godolkin university

I got into the school for my teleportation powers, a video went viral a few days ago of me stopping a robber while at the bank. I try to stay off social media but I still know about things that are trending

I stepped out of my cab and was standing in front of my dream school. I couldn’t help but smile and looked at my map. I hate maps of schools though, they don’t really help me

Suddenly someone bumped into me and I dropped the map

“Oh I’m so sorry” I apologized quickly. I looked up at the person and it was polarity’s son

“I think I’m the one that’s supposed to be apologizing” he had a small smile and I chuckled

“Yeah I guess so. Hey do you happen to know where the dorms are? I’m a little lost” he bends down to pick up my map and hand it to me

“Yeah I can show you” he out stretches his hand to me

“I’m Andre” I accept the handshake with a smile

“I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you” on the way to the dorms he asks me questions about myself and I return the favor

“So you have any siblings?” He asks another question but I don’t mind

“Yes, I have an older sister. She was honestly my rock throughout everything. She was so happy when I told her I got into this school” Andre nodded listening to me instead of dozing off during my little rambles

“That’s nice, kind of makes me wish I had a sibling” I laughed and he looked at me quizzically

“Trust me it has its ups and downs. We fought a lot as little kids, she would pull my hair and I would teleport her to the zoo” he laughed a little surprised

“You could teleport? And you took her to the zoo?” He questioned in a little disbelief. I laughed at the memory

“It was the only thing I could think of, she hated the lizards!” We laughed even harder and I couldn’t help but think of how much I’m going to miss her

“But no matter how hard we fought she would always be there for me” I smiled warmly. We talk a little more and we finally show up at the dorms

“Thank you for helping me find the dorms and for some nice conversation. I hope I get to see you around” I smile at him. He seems like a nice person, very open to new people

“Well me and a few friends are going out tonight, wanna come with?” I thought about it for a second. He is my first friend here but I’ll need more than one friend at a university this big. I made a decision

“Sure” he tells me when and where to meet them and I go to find my room number. Number 403 popped up soon enough and I walk in to see my dorm with one bed. I looked at it confused and worried that there might have been a mix up

I set my things down and look around. There’s nothing that suspects another person has been in here, just one bed and empty shelves. I leave my things in a corner of the room and go to find an office but before I do, I bump into a girl in the hallway

She has short blonde hair and bright brown almost hazel eyes

“Oh I’m so sorry” I apologized immediately. What is it with the me and bumping into people lately. She smiles at me

“No, no it’s totally ok. Hey you’re the girl moving into room 403 right?” Her voice is sweet and excited. I nodded

“My name is y/n, hey do you know why I only have one bed?” She looked confused as well and walked to my doorway to see

“Maybe they just didn’t have a roommate for you, happens sometimes because ya know it’s a famous school and all that” and shrugged her shoulders, “maybe you should go down to the office to see” I nodded

“Can you uh do me a favor and point me in the direction of the office please? I’m not good with maps” she smiled and laughed a little

“Yeah of course” she gave me directions that I followed to a T and suddenly I’m in front of a large building. I walk down a large hallway and look at everything I’m passing by and I can’t help but be amazed at everything I’m seeing

I finally see someone and walk up to them a little nervously. They have headphones in at the moment but once I walk up to them they take the headphones out

“Hi uhm is this where I talk to someone about my dorm because I only have one bed and I don’t know if it’s because I don’t have a roommate or-“ I was cut off from my rambling

“This is professor brinks office for criminology, not a place for you to ask about your dorm room” they blatantly spoke. I felt so embarrassed and my face started to turn a little pink

“Oh I’m so sorry, I’m new here and got the wrong directions and I’m sorry again. I hope you have a good day” I was about to walk away when h to eh shouted a name

“Jordan, my name is Jordan” I turned back and gave a small smile

“My name is y/n, I would say it’s nice to meet you but I’m just embarrassed right now” they smiled and I couldn’t help but think their smile is beautiful

“Don’t be, it happens a lot of the time with freshman” they continue, “and I wouldn’t worry about the dorm situation, they sometimes give people their own room. Cherish it you might get a roommate next year” I laugh a little

“Thank you and again, I’m sorry for wasting your time” they just smile and I turn to walk back to my dorm

any feedback would be good, this is just a snippet of the story so far

[saetoru]

#𝐃𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 (𝐈 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐘)

☰ SYNOPSIS ⋮ it’s always been you for him, just like it’s always been sano shinichiro for you

— pairing ⋮ sano shinichiro x reader

— length ⋮ 8.3k words (sobsob)

— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, best friends/childhood friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, mutual pining, jealous shinichiro, slightly insecure shinichiro, virgin shinichiro, dry humping, praise, handjobs, unprotected sex, creampie, misunderstandings, the bike shop incident but he lives (in my world he never dies), love confessions, happy ending :)

— notes ⋮ this is for my sweet angel @arlertslove 's selfship collab <3 tysm for letting me join i had so much fun writing my lil love story with shin <33 and fank you cat and ris for listening to me ramble about this and beta reading 💋

shinichiro is used to girls coming into his shop looking for wakasa. he’s used to the wandering eyes and the stalled excuses as they wait around for his friend to show up. and he’s fine with it, really. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out why someone would want imaushi wakasa, and he’s not so stupid as to miss the fact that his friend is as smooth with words as he is gifted in the looks department. 

but still, he kind of wishes he could fulfill that one last part of his “biker dream,” the one where he’s got eyes with heart-shaped pupils following his every move as he pretends to be unaware, rolling his sleeve up as a “coincidence” while he tightens bolts with his wrench. but he finds the only eyes of a girl that ever seem to pay attention to him are yours—and he’s okay with that, really. 

it’s just that you’re simply way out of his league, and he’s not foolish enough to daydream over a king’s riches when he’s dressed in the rags of a commoner. 

“shin, do you ever leave this lame ass shop?” you complain, taking a sip of your soda from your straw. from the side, manjiro makes a disgruntled sound of protest. 

“you wouldn’t get it,” the child huffs, cheeks puffed out as he glares at you, “girls don’t get cool stuff like this.”

“oh, i’m sorry,” you snort, shooting him a teasing grin, “i’ll try harder to see the wonders in scrapped hunks of metal.”

“this is not scrap,” shinichiro grumbles, tinkering away at the engine of the bike before him, tongue stuck out in concentration. your gaze softens just a little at the way his hair sticks to his sweaty forehead. “this ol’ thing’s still got some life left in her,” he hums, “think i could make a decent number offa her.”

shinichiro is a simple man. he wears a white t-shirt and dark jeans every time you see him, and he does his hair the same way he has since the day you met him as a kid. he has the same fast food order that you know by heart by now, and he still gets a diet coke from the convenience store every time you get a bag of chips—the only thing that’s changed is he now adds a pack of cigarettes to the mix, a sheepish grin on his face when you look at him disapprovingly. 

i’ll break the habit someday, he always tells you, today’s just not that day. and then, before you can open your mouth to tell him not to make promises he can’t keep, he swoops in under your nose and grabs your chips from your hand, lumping them in with his pile and paying for you despite your protests.

every time, without fail. 

“that is if you don’t keep her for yourself,” you point out, making him roll his eyes. 

“are you here to drink all my soda or lend a hand?” he grumbles, shooting you a half-hearted scowl. “now make yourself useful and hand me a few screws,” he turns back around, hand reaching behind him as he motions for you to offer them to him. you reach for what you think are the screws—that is until manjiro snorts in amusement, of course. 

“those are nails,” he snickers, hopping off his stool and moving to get the correct items in question. your brows furrow, glaring at him when he sticks his tongue out to you before plopping a few screws in his brother’s hand—which look awfully close to nails if you might add. “see? you girls aren’t cool enough to understand the difference.”

“hey,” shinichiro scolds, tongue peeking out again as he concentrates on lining the screw up just right. something fond bubbles in your chest at the sight, something warm and sweet, even if it feels just a little scary. “if you keep saying things like that, you’ll never get a girl, manjiro.”

“oh yeah? you’ve never had a girl, shin. what would you know?” the blonde pipes up, and almost instantly, a wave of crimson dusts over his cheeks as shinichiro throws his brother a dirty look. and when you chuckle, hand clamping over your mouth as you giggle into your palm, the blush rises to the tips of his ears. 

he’s cute, you think. he’s always been a charmer, always made your lips twist upwards no matter how much you tell yourself you won’t let him. he’s a good friend too, sends you songs he thinks you’ll like, never leaves you on delivered for too long—even if you text him at three am, and sometimes, even as he rolls his eyes and complains, he’ll shove his plate your way when you steal a bite or two. 

shinichiro’s a simple man. he’s got a good head on his shoulders, and more importantly, a good heart in his chest. 

you think you hate whoever the girl he’s going to spend the rest of his life with is—even if you’ve yet to meet her…and even if she doesn't quite exist just yet. 

“well, i know how to respect them,” he points a thumb at himself, flicking manjiro’s forehead affectionately as he stands to his full height. he reaches over to grab a towel, wiping the grease off of his hands. “you better head home now,” and then he turns to you. “and you, i’ll walk you home.” 

you start to protest instantly. “i can walk myse—”

“i’ll walk you home,” he says firmly. “it’s getting dark.” you know better than to argue with him when he uses that tone—the same tone he uses on manjiro and emma when he’s being gentle yet firm, loving yet strict. 

“fine,” you huff, but the warm feeling from earlier returns, this time tenfold. you almost think you’ve swallowed the sun in the middle of winter. 

“you better come home right after. grandpa says to be home in time for dinner for once,” manjiro says pointedly, and with a whine of complaint as you ruffle his hair with a grin, he’s off. and then it’s just the two of you as you turn back to shinichiro, devious look on your face that tells him he’s about to be the unfortunate victim of your relentless teasing. 

“you know, at this rate manjiro will settle down with someone before—”

“are you two just gonna spend the rest of the night in here?” a voice cuts you off, smooth and deep—and at the moment, the bane of shinichiro’s existence. wakasa strolls in, hands in his pockets and the stick of an already finished lollipop in between his teeth as he finds his way to stand next to you. 

shinichiro pretends he doesn’t care about the way you beam at his friend. no, he tells himself, he doesn’t care one bit. 

“not everyone closes up early like you,” you tease, poking wakasa’s chest as his smile widens, “quit slacking off at your gym.” and wakasa is as easy to fall for as he is to talk to. he lets banter fall off his tongue almost as naturally as people fall for his charms, and shinichiro doesn’t see why you should be an exception. 

wakasa isn’t a weak man who runs toward trouble before he can think. he wouldn’t have to stand in between your legs as you’re sat on the sink, flinching under your touch as you dab disinfectant on his wounds. he wouldn’t stumble over the right words to tell you when you flash him a smile as you ask him if you look alright. he wouldn’t cry over small things and embarrass himself when you’re around to witness. so of course you’d want imaushi wakasa—who wouldn’t? 

shinichiro just wishes that it were as easy to shrug off the sinking of his heart as he tells himself it is. 

“well, there’s not much keeping me there when i don’t have a pretty face to keep me company,” wakasa teases back as he winks playfully, and shinichiro almost has to swallow down bile as you look down shyly. 

when was the last time you ever looked away from him shyly? or the last time something he said ever made you stumble over your words as you answer back? his mood sours, and then before he can think, he shrugs his jacket over his shoulders, lips pressed into a tight line as he clears his throat for your attention. 

“well, you heard manjiro. i shouldn’t be late for dinner,” he says dryly, making your brows furrow. “i’ll be off.”

“but what about—”

“waka will walk you home,” he grunts, cutting you off before turning to the male beside you, “you know how to lock up.”

“shin—” but then he’s gone, and you’re left alone with wakasa as the door shuts behind him. you stare at the man next to you, and he stares back, and neither of you quite know what to say—or what’s even happened in the first place. 

and when you get home that night, for the first time in a really long time, your text message gets left on delivered for ages—even though it’s not three am. 

——————————

by now, it’s common knowledge that sano shinichiro has never had much luck in the love department. he asks and asks, and girls always deny and deny. but contrary to popular belief, he’s not desperate for some sort of action like most guys his age are. he’s not particularly interested in sex—at least, not urgently, anyway. and he doesn’t think he’s undesirable by any means, after all, he wasn’t the leader of the top gang in the nation for nothing. he’s sure there are girls who would happily take the chance to sleep with him—but that’s not quite what he wants. he doesn’t want a meaningless fling one after the other. 

he just doesn’t like the idea of waking up to empty sheets with the lingering scent of perfume and sex, and he doesn’t like the idea of not knowing the names of people he gets in bed with. and he especially doesn’t like the idea of letting people see the intimate parts of him without feeling intimately for him in some shape or form. the truth is that shinichiro, the weak king and famed leader of the mighty black dragon, is really just a romantic at heart. 

so he asks shyly, roses in one hand and his heart in the other, weight shifting on the balls of his feet. he asks and asks, and girls deny and deny—and he wonders if maybe he’s just too pathetic to love. 

and then there’s you. 

he’s been in love with you since before love was a concept he even understood—and he suspects he’s even been in love with you since his “girls have cooties” stage at the tender age of six. for as long as he can remember, sano shinichiro has grown up on the warmth of your hand holding his. 

you hold it in line at school when you insist he be your line buddy, you hold it when you carefully help him off the ground when he’s beaten by people twice his size, you hold it when you’re nervous about getting lost in a busy crowd on the streets, and you hold it in his dreams before tugging him in for a kiss. 

but of course, as on brand of his luck as ever, he wakes up before he can feel the softness of your lips and taste the sweetness of your chapstick—which he suspects you wear strawberry flavored. 

except today, shinichiro doesn’t get to wake up to the crushing disappointment of your kiss being cut short. instead, today he’s awoken by the loud sound of a fist banging on his door, making him jolt awake with a gasp. 

“shin, open the damn door,” you demand from the other side, and he groans, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with a scowl. now he’s thinking of the image of your lips pressing onto wakasa’s, and he feels bitterness creep up his shoulder, hunching over him and whispering sweetly in his ear to ignore you and promptly fall back asleep.

but you’re nothing if not persistent, so you keep pounding against his door. 

“sano shinichiro, if you don’t open this door right now, i’ll walk in whether you’re decent or not,” you warn. 

“well, i’m naked. so stay right there,” he calls out—even as he’s dressed fully clothed in a tank top and sweats. 

“you don’t sleep naked,” you point out dryly, and he can just picture the scowl on your face, the way your arms cross, and your cheeks puff up in anger. he can also picture the way your foot taps impatiently, and if he wasn’t so mad at you (for no good reason at all), he’d have smiled fondly. 

“how would you know?” he mutters, “you sleepin’ in the same bed as me?”

“shin, just open the damn door,” you sigh, and the soft thud against the wood tells him your forehead has gently fallen against the surface. 

shinichiro, as he has been for most of his life, has not one ounce of him that has the strength to deny you. so with a heavy sigh, he slumps back against the headboard of his bed, crossing his arms. 

“door’s open,” is all he says. 

you don’t waste a moment, twisting the doorknob and walking into his room. it’s dark, and the curtains haven’t been drawn yet, but like clockwork, you step over the piles of clothes and seat yourself at the foot of his bed. you know his room like that back of your hand, what with the way you’ve spent damn near two decades coming over. 

sano shinichiro has been your best friend since childhood—which by default, has always made you both susceptible to the cliche they’ll get married when they’re older remarks adults love to throw around so easily. 

at six, you don’t care much for the statement outside of the mild shock you feel that adults always bring marriage into everything. shinichiro is fun, and he’s sweet, and that’s it. more importantly, he’s tall and easy to find when you play hide and seek, so you always end up winning. but shinichiro also splits his candy bar with you when you can’t decide between that or a bag of chips, and in exchange, you give him half of your bag. it works—you think it’s a rather unlikely pair between the two of you, but it works. 

at twelve, you’re disgusted. shinichiro and you could never get married—could you? the adults need to stop talking because honestly, adults don’t know what they’re talking about. they work just to pay taxes, they tell you to go to bed at ten pm because “sleep is important”—only to stay up until three am themselves, and they always talk about marriage when half of them can’t even make theirs work. shinichiro is your best friend and that's it. you don’t think you could ever kiss lips as chapped as his anyway. 

at eighteen, you think the adults may have had a point. maybe they know what they’re talking about after all. shinichiro is so incredibly handsome—when did he get this handsome? he smokes outside with his hair slicked up, a new little style he’s trying out, but it’s always back to falling over his eyes by the end of the day. the phase doesn’t last very long. and even though as his best friend you hate that he inhales those death sticks, as his secret admirer you can’t help but appreciate how perfect his lips look curled around the roll of tobacco as he takes a drag. 

at twenty-three, you hate the adults for filling you up with false hope. you think they must hate the youth and that’s why they fill their minds with sick, cruel daydreams and fantasies of true love and happily ever afters. shinichiro has asked every girl he can think of on a date except you. you know it’s because you’re his best friend—but that’s just the problem. best friend. that’s all you’ll ever be, and it’s all the more frustrating that it’s all he’ll ever see you as, that you’re the only fucking girl he hasn’t asked out—especially since you’re the only fucking girl that appreciates him enough to say yes in a heartbeat. 

but shinichiro is your best friend, and you’d rather have him like that than not at all. 

“why’ve you been ignoring me,” you cut right to the chase, crossing your arms and throwing him a look as mean as they get. he crosses his arms right back, looking to the side as he avoids answering your question. 

he’s obnoxiously persistent in avoiding you even as you’re less than two feet away from him, so you decide you have no other choice than to be obnoxiously stubborn in demanding his attention one way or another. 

“shin, if you don’t spit it out, i’ll tell waka it was you who scratched his bike,” you threaten. it’s a good start, it gets his lips to twitch into a slight frown, but he’s still determined. “i’ll scratch your bike,” you huff. still nothing. “i’ll tell manjiro about that one time you accidentally—”

“you promised you’d keep that a secret,” he scowls, and then his eyes widen. it’s too late, though, and you’re already grinning at him cheekily as you revel in your victory. rolling his eyes, he grumbles under his breath before uncrossing his arms and letting them fall to either side of him with a sigh. “what is it?”

“oh, i don’t know,” you scoff in disbelief, raising a brow as if to question if he’s being serious. “maybe it’s that you’ve been radio silent for three whole days. three! i could’ve been dead in an alleyway and you wouldn’t even know.”

“i’d be invited to the funeral,” he points out.

“i’d tell them not to let you in.”

“you’re supposed to be dead,” he furrows his brows, staring at you like you’re stupid—and then you’re back to usual for a moment, like he hasn’t ignored your existence every time he remembers you smile at wakasa, like you aren’t ready to skin him alive for disappearing off the face of the earth, like you’re both just too damn in love with each other to stay mad for long. 

it’s a little too bad he doesn’t realize it and neither do you. 

“it was hypothetical,” you pinch your nose. “stop dodging. why haven’t you been talking to me?” 

“glad to know you noticed,” he grumbles. he could really use a smoke right now, he thinks. but it’s barely eleven am and he hasn’t even had breakfast yet—even he’s at least that much concerned for his own wellbeing. 

“what’s that supposed to mean?’ your eyes narrow, angry slits that glare at him like they’re daring him to explain himself further and tread down such a dangerous path. but shinichiro doesn’t back down, doesn’t even falter as he looks you dead in your eyes as he answers. 

“just thought you’d be busy is all,” he says nonchalantly. too casual, too relaxed. like the calm before the storm—and you sense a storm might be approaching rather rapidly. “talking to wakasa must really clog up your schedule.” 

“what the fuck does that even have to do with anything, shin?” you stare at him incredulously. that evening was not your first time talking to imaushi wakasa, nor was it your second or third, and it likely won’t be your last. you’ve talked to wakasa so many times, you can’t imagine why it should matter to shinichiro now. 

unless…

no, you reprimand yourself, no wishful thinking. but what else could it be if not jealousy? all too suddenly, a small spark of excitement knits itself comfortably into your bones, and in a small fit of boldness, you wriggle your brows at him. he scowls instantly. 

“what are you makin’ that face for at me—”

“are you jealous, shinny?” you tease, shuffling to sit next to him, face inching closer to his. you almost—almost, but not quite—miss the way he gulps. 

maybe wishful thinking is only wishful thinking until it comes true. 

“w-what are you…n-now you’re just makin’ stuff up—” he cuts his stuttering off when you giggle, face crimson as he throws you a (weak) glare. reaching, you pinch his cheek, and you can hear the audible hitch in his throat as you do. 

“jealous you won’t be my number one man? don’t worry,” you hum, patting his face gently with affection. anything to keep touching him. “you’re the only one i text at three am—though it would be much appreciated if you’d answer this time,” you say pointedly. 

“you’re the only person i text at three am too,” he mutters. 

“not that anyone else texts you at three am,” you snicker, throwing your head back and laughing when he gently bumps your shoulder with his. “it’s a good thing. more attention for me. if you text other girls in the middle of the night, i’ll have to enlist wakasa for more attention—”

his face sours, making you trail off. and for some reason, he really seems to be taking this friendliness with wakasa personally. 

“well, what’s wakasa got that i don’t anyway?” he grumbles, “just cause he’s a good kisser or something doesn’t mean—quit laughing,” he hisses when he hears you chuckle quietly. 

“how do you know wakasa is a good kisser?”

“you tryin’ to tell me you think he’s not?” he raises a brow. somehow, your silence tells him everything he needs to know, and he feels bitterness creep into his skin, seeping into the small crevices of sano shinichiro that are very hard to reach—the small parts of him that are envious and resentful, so unlike his usual golden heart. 

“i’m sure you’d be a great kisser,” you offer, which he takes as a half-ditch effort to comfort him. “you just need to practice ‘s all.”

“yeah well, that’s kind of hard to do when no one even says yes to a date,” he grunts. 

it’s quiet. he almost feels bad for springing this on you like this, like it’s your fault you’re into a guy as great as wakasa—like it’s your fault girls aren’t into a guy who pales in comparison like shinichiro. 

“we could practice if you want,” you say quietly. he finally turns to look at you full on. 

“what?”

“well, i mean…just for practice, you know? we’re still friends,” you shrug nonchalantly. 

right, friends. but shinichiro wants to feel your lips on his one way or another, and this might just be the only way. he’s not going to ask for more than what he’s already been graciously offered from the universe. 

“okay,” is all he says, voice somewhat strained. “d-do i gotta like…y-you want me to play music? o-or i could—”

“shin,” you snort, staring at him amused, “we don’t need music to kiss.” he’d be embarrassed—really, he would. but you’re just so pretty when your eyes are bright like that, and he’s shameless enough to be proud he’s made you laugh. 

wakasa can suck on that, he thinks.

“w-well, i just thought…c-cause you know, people say music sets the…you know?” he stares at you like he hopes you’ll catch what he’s hinting, and you blink innocently—purposely, he suspects. “you know, th-the mood,” he croaks. 

“we’re kissing, not fucking,” you snort. he sputters at the directness, and then you decide to spare him and cup his face with both hands, face hovering just inches before his. “just tell me if you want to stop, okay?” you murmur, thumb stroking his cheek tenderly. 

like he’d ever ask you to stop, he thinks. still, he gulps and nods. 

“okay,” he murmurs back when you seem to wait for him to say it verbally. “i will,” he assures, 

and just like that, you kiss him. shinichiro almost takes this as a sign to pinch himself, just to make sure this isn’t a dream he got lucky in and didn’t wake up early from. but he decides if this is a dream, he’d be cruel to take away the one chance he has to experience this, so he plants his hands on your waist instead, gently tugging you to straddle his waist. 

his lips are soft, and they aren’t chapped like they once used to be. your lips taste of strawberry chapstick, just like he always imagined. 

shinichiro isn’t a bad kisser, you decide. he’s equal parts enthusiastic as he is gentle, and you’d be lying if you said this wasn’t one of—if not the—best kiss you’ve ever had. but then again, maybe it’s just because you’re in love with him. you’ll take him however you can, and even if this is just “as friends,” you’re content at the moment with the way his lips mold against yours, large hands gripping onto your hips as he pants under you. 

except, neither of you takes the initiative to be the one who pulls away—and then one thing sort of leads to the other, as they always do in cases like this. your hands wander to his hair, tugging at his roots, he groans in surprise, and then suddenly both of your hips are grinding your crotches together. he lets out a muffled moan against your mouth as you rub against his growing erection. 

and even though you really shouldn’t, you grind down on him until you feel his hard-on poke through his sweats, pulling sweet little whines from him as his breath grows ragged. 

“f-fuck, that…that feels good,” he groans quietly, “keep doing that.”

“yeah?” you ask, “like this?” your lips are trailing along his jaw, sucking on the skin—just because you can, just because he’s not stopping you. he throws his head back against the frame of his bed, whimpering as you drag up and down his length through your pants. you gasp as you feel him rub against your clit, hips moving faster as you chase the friction. 

he seems just as desperate for it as you do—because now, his hips buck to match your rhythm, panting raggedly as he feels his orgasm slowly build up. 

“‘m close,” he gasps, “fuck, fuck, ‘m so close. jus’ a bit more—f-fuck,” he cuts himself with a whimper of your name as he cums, fingers digging into your hips bruisingly tight as he desperately rolls his hips against you. you watch his head fall back, how his cheeks are flushed with a rosy hue, how he shudders with a blissed-out face as his mouth parts with pretty little moans, how his hair falls over his closed eyes and curtains his face. you feel his pants dampen, sticky ropes of cum seeping through the fabric, making a mess and soiling both of your clothes. 

but you’re too busy mewling as he drags against your clit to care, hips rutting against him faster. you’re close—he knows it too, and he’s determined to get you falling off the edge as quickly as possible. 

“c’mon,” he says through a shaky voice, “jus’ let go, cum for me.” for someone with no experience, shinichiro isn’t as shy as you initially thought, and he certainly knows where the clit is. he guides your hips with his hands, helping you stroke against his cock until you slump over him, crying out as you cum too. your walls spasm around nothing, aching to clench around his girth. 

“shin,” you whine, “sh-shit, feels good.”

“god, n-need to be in you,” he gasps, “can i? please, please, please,” he pleads into your skin as his head falls to the crook of your neck. you don’t waste a second, grabbing at the hem of his tank top and lifting it over his head, slipping it over his arms. you take off your own shirt, and his eyes fall to your chest instantly. “can…can i?” he asks hesitantly, and you nod, grabbing his hands to cup either tit. 

“yes please,” you breathe, letting out a shaky sigh as he kneads your breasts in his hands before letting them wander to unclasp your bra. he gulps when it falls, eyeing your bare chest before leaning to press a soft kiss to your collarbone.

“you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against the skin, nose brushing against it and sending shivers up your spine. his thumbs roll over your nipples, pebbled and hard under his touch, pulling a soft moan from you as he pinches lightly and rolls them between his fingers. “feels good?” he gives you a charming little grin—just a little giddy he’s doing something right. 

“yes, keep going,” you whine, pulling a grunt from him as you shuffle on his lap to get closer, rubbing against his still hardened cock. your hand reaches past his waistband, pulling his length out and wrapping your hand around it as you squeeze gently. 

shinichiro lets out a strangled groan—somehow, it feels way more different when it’s your hand and not his. he lets out ragged breaths as you gently stroke him, whimpering when your thumb glides through his slit and smears the pre cum around the head of his cock. 

he’s pretty, long and curved and flushed a soft pink at the tip—and truth be told, bigger than you expected. 

“fuck, you’re gonna kill me,” he rasps, staring down at the way your hand fists his cock, a slick, wet noise ringing through the room as you drag your hand up and down his length. he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his hair clings to his sweaty forehead. and then you pull away, making his eyes fly open as his mouth opens to protest. 

you speak before he can. “you sure about this?” you ask, and he swallows at the tenderness of your voice, the way your eyes are soft and sweet and searching his for any signs of changing his mind. 

he shakes his head quickly—embarrassingly quickly if he’s being honest with himself. 

“yes. please don’t stop, baby,” he groans, and the pet name slipping off his tongue is all the encouragement you need, letting out a labored breath before nodding. 

shinichiro watches in a trance as you rid yourself of your pants and underwear, watches as you tug his own sweats down his hips and help him out, watches in sheer awe as your grip his shoulders and line your entrance up with his tip, rolling your hips to just glide him over across your folds, gathering your slick along the head of his cock. you both shudder at the contact, and slowly, you sink down on him, taking him in inch by inch. 

“god—f-fuck, s-so tight,” he chokes, hands flying to your waist and gripping tightly, panting harshly as his eyes squeeze shut. you gasp, head falling to his shoulder as you sink down on the last few inches, bottomed out as he drags along your walls. 

he’s big, and he curves into you just right—almost like he was made to fit you. slowly, you grind your hips, moaning against his shoulder as he groans, the sound of his voice making you clench down on him unintentionally. 

“so full, shin,” you whine, “feels good—you make me feel good.” slowly, the grinding turns into your hips slamming down on him, bouncing on his cock as he throws his head back and lets out a wanton moan. 

“sh-shit—you’re perfect, so, so perfect,” he rambles, hips snapping up to match your pace, thrusting into you deeper. he pauses for a moment when you let out a shrill squeal when he slams into you particularly deep, fat tip kissing your sweet spot and making you cling to him tighter. he throws you a cheeky grin, one that makes your heart melt and your eyes roll at the same time. “looks like i found it,” he grins to himself, and then he’s flipping you both over, a new aura of confidence radiating off of him that you’ve never quite seen in shinichiro. 

“shin, please,” you whine, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling his forehead down to press against yours, “fuck me,” you whisper. 

“shit, baby,” he groans, “look at you, so pretty. prettiest thing i’ve ever seen.” you clench down on him. who would’ve thought praise from his tongue could make you wonder if you’re about to cum again, but it sounds so perfect off his tongue. so intimate and so sacred. “needed you so bad, you have no idea.”

“me too,” you gasp, drawn-out moan pulling from your lips as he thrusts into you, rolling his hips and bullying his cock past your folds in a perfect rhythm—you almost question if he really has been a virgin this whole time. 

shinichiro is pretty—it’s the conclusion you’ve allowed yourself to come to after a long time of denying it. he looks pretty when his hair falls over his eyes as the sun makes the strands look a shade lighter, and he’s pretty when he rubs his neck and laughs nervously in the endearing little way that he does. and now you know he sounds it too, breathy and whiny against the shell of your ear as he desperately fucks into you, losing himself to the warmth of your walls, to the way they flutter around him so tightly. he’s also pretty when he lets out a deep, raspy grunt, and it serves as a reminder that he’s grown into a man now. 

he’s not the same cry baby on the playground, staring up at you through wobbly lips and a bruise on his cheeks, desperately fighting back the tears in his eyes. 

he’s a man now, lean and built with muscle you never really noticed was there, with a deep, husky voice that you never really took the time to register how much has changed over the years, with hands that are big now, way bigger than you ever remember as they pin your hands over your head, wrapped around your wrists. 

but somehow, he’s still the same shin when he meets your eyes as his forehead presses against yours. your shin—your shy, awkward, weak little cry baby shin. 

and you love him. 

“you close? ‘m so fuckin’ close,” he pants, and then his hand sneaks down in between your bodies to rub his thumb over your clit, making your back arch as you mewl, chest pressing against his as your nipple graze against each other. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum baby. cum with me,” he pleads. 

“s-so close, shin,” you sob, “need it, need it so bad.”

“fuck, you’re so pretty,” he groans, “anyone ever tell you that? how fuckin’ perfect you are? you drive me so fuckin’ insane.”

“shinichiro,” you cry one more time before he angles his hips to slam into your spot, and then you cum—hard. your hips leave the mattress, shrill squeal rolling off your tongue as your walls spasm around him, making him grunt at the way you squeeze his cock. your legs are wrapped around his waist, mouth hung open as your eyes roll back, and if your face isn’t enough to send him over the edge, the way you moan through broken sobs definitely is. 

“fuck, fuck—y-you gotta let go, baby. ‘m gonna…gonna c-cum, gotta let me go—”

“no, no, inside,” you beg, wrapping your legs around him tighter, pulling him closer as you stare up at him with wide, watery doe eyes. “please, i need it.” 

he couldn’t hold back if he tried. 

“shit—you’re really gonna fuckin’ kill me,” he groans, and then his lips are on yours, desperately kissing you, letting you drink in his moans and swallow them up as he spills into you, cumming a second time. 

he cums for what feels like forever—and if it were up to you, it’d be longer than that. his hips are sloppy, fucking into you as he rides out his orgasm with muffled whines against your mouth and a tight grip on your wrists. “fuck, fuck, fuck—f-feels good. ‘s so good,” he babbles, and you can feel his cock twitch with every rope of cum he spills into you, painting your walls white. with three more thrusts, he finishes, whimpering as you flutter around him and milk him dry. 

and as he pulls out, slumping his body over yours while he breathes through labored inhales, shakily catching his breath, you take this as the perfect opportunity to be brave. 

you’re brave as you mumble, “i love you, shin,” fingers weaving through his sweaty locks. 

he tenses. your heart shatters. there’s a knock on his door. 

“shin, hurry up,” you hear manjiro’s muffled voice through the door, “grandpa says no breakfast for either of you if you don’t come right now.” there’s a quiet grumble of, “they talk so much, as if they don’t see each other every day,” under the blonde’s breath, and then you hear the soft pads of his feet as he walks away. 

and silently, as you both dress and fix up your appearances, you don’t know if shinichiro is the same shin you grew up with. 

you don’t stay for breakfast, and he doesn’t ask you to. 

——————————

shinichiro is stupid. 

he’s a fucking idiot and he knows now why he’s never had any luck in the department of love. he’s pathetic and a coward and he deserves all the rejections he’s got lined up on his record—at least, that's what he woefully tells wakasa as he’s got his head in his hands. 

“you’re not a virgin anymore?” wakasa asks in shock, mouth agape as though this is more surprising than the aftermath shinichiro’s so kindly summed up—the same aftermath that happens to be the worst mistake of his life. 

“that’s not the fucking point i’m making,” he grits his teeth. “the girl i’m in love with thinks i don’t feel the same, man. can you read the room?”

“so no congrats cake, then?” wakasa asks, just to be sure. he dodges the screwdriver thrown at his head expertly. “i don’t see what the big deal is,” wakasa sucks on his lollipop, shrugging as though it’s a simple matter. shinichiro wishes his aim wasn’t equally as bad as wakasa ability to dodge is good. he really wishes the screwdriver hit. “anyway, just show up at her house with flowers and say, i love you too, i just got shy. girls love flowers.”

“i wasn’t shy, i was shocked,” he mutters quietly, “and it’s not that simple,” he grunts, sighing as he wallows in self-pity. wakasa is not as good at relationship advice as shinichiro thought, and now he’s even more irritated that someone as dense as his friend is blessed with so much romantic appeal. 

“why not? she loves you, you know that now. the hard part’s done,” wakasa shrugs, “so you guys like…had full-on sex? are you actually not a virgin anymore?”

“you know what, forget i said anything,” shinichiro huffs, staring down at his hands with a frown. wakasa gazes at him for a moment, eyeing the look on his face that can’t be labeled as anything other than purely crestfallen. 

“if you love her, you wouldn’t be sitting here feeling bad for yourself,” wakasa says quietly. “between the two of you, she’s probably more miserable right now,” he mumbles. “no point in being a coward now.”

it’s silent. and then shinichiro’s groaning before he stares up at the ceiling. 

“i’m not like you,” he mutters, “i can’t sweet talk or be romantic or anything. i’m hopeless.”

“you’re right,” wakasa agrees thoughtfully, picking at his nails as he rolls the lollipop from one side of his mouth to the other, “you’re not me.”

“okay, man. i get it, you don’t have to—”

“that’s why you lead black dragon and not me,” wakasa looks him dead in the eye, giving him a pointed look as though to say wake up. “and that’s why she loves you and not me. quit makin’ excuses and get off your ass.”

and shinichiro is stupid. 

he’s painfully unaware of a lot of things, reckless and a tad bit too spontaneous in his choices, but he thinks maybe you’ve known that all along, and you still love him even through the busted lips and wounded pride. you loved him through his delinquency and trouble-making habits, and you loved him before he’s built himself to be the most respected gang leader around these parts. 

so with a nod, he smiles softly at his friend—maybe it’s a good thing wakasa dodged the screwdriver after all. 

“thanks, man.”

“yeah, whatever, don’t make it weird,” wakasa grunts, rolling his eyes. there’s a fondness in his gaze, though—and his lips just barely tug at the edges. “so did you really last long enough?”

this time shinichiro throws a wrench. 

——————————

it wasn’t supposed to go down like this. he had a plan. a foolproof plan. 

he had the flowers, he had the chocolate, and he even had a piece of paper in his pocket with a bulleted outline for the all the things he wanted to say—reading off of it word for word seems like a tad bit of a dick move, so he opts for bullet points instead of full sentences. 

it was supposed to be smooth and heartfelt and endearing enough that you’d have absolutely no choice but to give in to his charms and say it’s okay, shin. i still love you. and maybe, if he got lucky and the universe was on his side, he’d get to kiss you some more. maybe other things too, but he tries to be practical and not hope for too much.

but evidently, the universe was not on his side because before he can even grab the flowers and be on his way to your house, he’s being robbed. and to make things worse, it’s by his own brother’s friends. and to add icing to the cake, one of them split his head open with a fucking chain cutter. he wonders if this is karma for trying to hit wakasa’s head with not just a screwdriver, but a wrench too. 

so, instead of your front doorstep, he lands himself a nice little visit to the hospital, a teary-eyed manjiro and emma at his bedside by the time he wakes up. 

“shin, do you remember me? i’m your sister, emma,” she says with wobbly lips and a quiet sniffle, tugging gently at his hospital gown. his eyes soften, and he places a hand on top of her head, ruffling her hair affectionately. 

“yes, emma, i still have my memory,” he chuckles, “and you must be manjiro,” he teases. manjiro purses his lips with a huff, but when two tears trickle down his cheeks, shinichiro wipes them away with the pad of his thumb. “i’m fine,” he murmurs, “see? nothin’ to worry about.”

and then the door slams open and everyone flinches, all eyes darting to look at you as you stand with your own teary eyes and wobbly lips, the sound of your sniffles joining the rest. 

“oh shin,” you sob, and soon, you’re gently cupping his cheeks and tilting his head to get a better look at the bandages. “does it hurt? are you gonna have any permanent damage? is the kid in jail? do you remember what happened? wait, do you remember me? it’s me, remember? we’ve been friends since we were kids, i helped you up after you got beat—”

“okay,” he hisses, “we don’t need to relive that. it’s in the past,” his eyes glance at manjiro and emma before meeting yours again. you purse your lips and roll your eyes. 

“you almost died,” you spit at him, “how are you still worried about your rep?”

“i’m fine,” he grumbles, and then his eyes soften and he meets your gaze. he feels his heart sink when he notices there are tear tracks down your cheeks, staining your pretty little face in a way it never should be—you’re too good for this world for that. “really, i am.”

before either of you can even ask, manjiro is grabbing emma’s hand and tugging her along as he shuffles out the door, leaving you both to yourselves in the room without two sets of eyes watching…whatever this moment is as it goes down. 

“shin,” you sigh, seating yourself down on the chair beside his bed. he almost whines in protest when your hands leave his face, missing your touch as soon as it’s gone. “i’m sorry i’ve been avoiding you. i…it’s not your fault you don’t feel the same.”

“wait—”

“it’s okay, you don’t have to say anything,” you cut him off, “i get it, really i do! and i’m not hurt. well, i am a little sad, i can’t lie, but i’ll be fine. we’ll be fine. i don’t…i can’t lose you, shin, you know? we can be friends, i’m okay with just friends—you’re my best friend, and i thought…i thought you were gonna die, and i hadn’t spoken to you in like five days, and—”

“but i do—” you shush him with a finger to his lips. 

“just let me finish, okay? i’m really glad you’re okay, i don’t know what i’d do if you weren’t. god, you weren’t waking up, and there was so much blood when i got there, and manjiro was…a-and…” you trail off, voice cracking and eyes watering—and now you’re crying. sobbing, actually. sobbing and tearing his heart right out of his chest and shredding it one tear at a time, and he scrambles to grab your hand. 

“you sure do love to hear yourself talk,” he grumbles, tugging you forward to wipe the tears off your face. and the proximity should make him the shy, awkward guy he always reverts into when you’re so close, but somehow all of it flies out the window at the sight of you crying. 

he hates the idea of tears ever falling down your cheeks, and he hates the idea of him being the cause even more. 

“what are you—”

“i’ve been trying to say,” he huffs, “i–” he takes a breath, one that’s a little shaky before he swallows. “i love you too. i just…just got surprised, you know? cause…cause you’re you, and you laugh at wakasa’s jokes—even though he’s not really that funny, anyway,” he rolls his eyes at the mere thought of wakasa, “and i just froze. i-it’s not cause…l-like, i meant to say it back, really! i j-just…w-well you know me,” he chuckles nervously. you’re staring with your mouth agape. “n-no one’s ever said anything like that to me—well, no. i do get told i love you…by like my family and stuff—wait, that sounds lame. forget that last part—” he almost wishes hanemiya kazutora hit him harder with the chain cutter at this point when he hears you giggle. 

maybe death would be better than this, and at least that way he could haunt wakasa to make sure he stays far away from you. but he’s here, making a complete fool of himself as he openly admits that in his twenty-three years of life, he usually really just hears i love you from his younger siblings—and that’s typically only through batted lashes to get him to give in and let them get their way. 

“well, at least hitting your head didn’t change you,” you tease, “you’re still the same.”

“it’s too soon to be making head trauma jokes,” he glowers, “i just poured my heart out to you, you know.” 

“i know,” you hum, cupping his cheek and tracing a thumb over the skin. he leans into your touch and closes his eyes—and a small part of him is just the slightest bit proud he doesn’t need flowers and chocolate and his stupid bulleted list of things to say on paper. 

maybe, he’s enough as is. shy, awkward, weak little cry baby self and all. 

“it would be really appreciated if after this, you stopped giving imaushi wakasa the time of day,” he grumbles, “he’s really fuckin’ annoying.”

“you be nice to waka,” you chide, staring at him sternly. he pouts unhappily at the way you defend his friend. “he always says good things about you.” 

at twenty-three, you think the adults are right. you don’t see yourself spending your days with anyone else besides shinichiro, and if you have to fight the reaper’s scythe yourself, you will—but you’re marrying sano shinichiro one way or another. now that you have him, you’re never letting him slip from your fingertips again. 

so you climb into bed with him, tangle your legs with his and lay your head on his chest, ignore the cramped bed on the hospital that’s a little too small for the both of you, and you gently tilt his head down and you kiss him. 

he kisses back as he holds your face, smiling against your lips like he’s got the world in his palms—and he does. 

“i’m in love with you,” you murmur as you pull away, not meeting his gaze. your finger traces patterns into his chest, and his arm curls around you tighter. 

“oh,” he says. 

you glance up at him, frown marring that pretty, pretty face of yours. “that’s it?”

“and i’m in love with you too,” he whispers. 

“oh.” 

“that’s it?” he pouts playfully, bringing a hand to his chest as he writhes in faux agony. you snort, throwing your head back as you laugh, and he grins down at you, watching the light break over your face as you realize it’s always been you all along—just like it’s always been him. 

“shut up, shin,” you smack his chest, smiling against his lips when they find yours in another giggly kiss. 

shinichiro is a simple man. he finds that if he has you, he doesn’t really need anything else.

© hanmas do not plagiarize, repost, translate to other sites, or recommend on platforms outside tumblr such as tik tok

[harlowcomehome]

You deserve better:

You were on the phone with your best friend, rambling about your day when you saw an incoming call come through.

“It’s Jack” you groaned, mainly to humor her.

“Don’t act like you don’t want to answer that” she laughed, fully giving up on her words of advice to you.

“I just know you’re not a fan” you sighed, watching as his photo faded away.

“I just wish he’d stop playing games with you, but I know you want to call him so I’ll talk to you later.”

She was right, you wanted to call him back. You checked your texts, already receiving one from him.

Jack: When you have time, call me.

You got comfortable into bed, knowing your calls usually would last a long time.

“Hey,” you greeted him as he answered in a panic.

“Y/N! Hey, do you have time to listen to me complain?” He nervously laughed, part of him felt guilty for depending on you so much but on the other hand, you had made yourself available to him.

“Always” you quietly laughed, blowing air out of your nose. You already knew what it was about.

“So I was on a work call today and she just doesn’t get it. She kept talking to me and wanting my undivided attention but you know how that goes” he started to complain about his girlfriend, like he did to you almost daily.

“Right?” You usually didn’t say much, knowing he just needed to get it out.

“So of course that starts an argument. It’s always the same argument, she doesn’t understand that work is my number one priority. My career is like my child, ya know?”

“I do! She should know that too” you hummed, getting comfortable under your sheets.

“I don’t know y/n. I feel bad for saying this but I just need her to understand that she’s second to this.”

“What if she never understands that though Jack?” You could feel yourself starting to get frustrated, and you hated knowing nothing would change.

“I think I’d have to move on right? That's the most logical thing” You could hear him chewing on the other end of the line.

“Are you barely eating dinner?” You pulled your phone away from your face checking the time.

“Yeah? She was supposed to cook but when we started arguing she told me to fend for myself” he nervously laughed, knowing how you felt about her already.

“Jack- you know that’s not normal right?”

“I mean, everyone has quirks” he couldn’t defend her, he had nothing else to say.

“How much longer are you going to put up with this?”

“It’s hard y/n.” He sighed, feeling like you didn’t get it.

“What’s hard about it? You have tons of women who would die for a second of your attention, it’s not like if you broke up you’d be all alone.”

“They want me for what I have no who I am.”

“You won’t think you deserve to be treated better though? She’s not very nice to you.”

“I’ve already put so much time into this relationship, I don’t want to start all over” he admitted for the first time.

“So you’d rather be someone’s human punching bag?” You sat up in bed, fully prepared to argue with him. You usually didn’t say much but you were growing more and more frustrated.

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“You won’t be? I’m right here” You were trying not to cry, knowing he was going to say something dumb to break your heart for the hundredth time.

“You know what I mean!”

“You mean, my company isn’t enough and you don’t see me in that way. Got it.” You hung up the phone, immediately putting it on airplane mode.

Jack didn’t get a chance to react before hearing the call end, he knew you had feelings for him but he was afraid to change his situation.

He was about to call you back when he heard his front door slam shut.

“Jack? Baby? Did you eat? I’m sorry!” She called out from the foyer, holding a casserole dish.

Jack leaned over the railing, looking over his staircase to see her standing there full of regret.

“I think you should go, I have to catch a flight.”

[breaddwoo]

-Just a Few Scratches-

pairing: xavier thorpe x reader

word count: 4.36k

warnings: injury/blood

desc: you get injured trying to solve xavier's problems for him. silly you :)

a/n: im having a field day writing all my fic ideas :)) can't decide if the next one will be another xavier or wednesday

edit: pt 2 is now posted! 🦭

"fuck, fuck!" xavier yelled, sprinting across the field of pine needles before him and leaping over bushes and rocks.

cold sweat dripped down his flushed face; he could feel tears sting the back of his eyes. xavier felt like he could puke as he ran, but only one thing occupied his mind:

"(y/n)!"

> > >

-5 hours prior-

��are you doing okay, xavier?" you ask with worry. after class you had to stay late to ask the teacher something, so it was a surprise when you found xavier sitting on a bench in the hallway with his head in his hands.

he jolted. looking up, he seemed tired. really tired. you noticed the purple bags under his eyes and the way his breathing appeared to be unsteady.

xavier tried to smile, but it instantly fell off his face when he met your gaze. he bit the inside of he cheek to keep salty tears from spilling out of his eyes.

"I... " he began, but it came out as a strangled sob.

the sight of his pitiful state filled you with worry, and you picked up your pace as you sped over to him.

standing in front of xavier, you ask, "have you been sleeping? you look like a wreck."

xavier laughed at this, quickly wiping away a tear that dared to escape, "yeah, i know. I'm just.." he looked down, "I'm just really stressed."

you stepped closer and he pressed the top of his head to your stomach, refusing to look at you as he loosely wrapped his arms around your waist.

you began to move your hand to pat his head, but hesitated. "can i...?"

without hearing the rest, xavier said, "please."

this consent allowed you to weave your fingers through his hair. "do you want to talk about it?" you asked in a low voice, afraid that somehow, despite the hall's vacancy, someone would hear this sensitive conversation.

he was quiet for a few moments, considering his words.

"it's... wednesday. i'm so, so tired of her- of her blaming me! always saying i'm a mass murdering monster! it fucking hurts and she keeps finding new evidence that genuinely makes sense, " his voice is strained as he tightens his hold, "but i can't do anything to convince her it's not me. and she even found my art studio, which just makes me look worse."

seeing him like this made you want to cry, but you restrained yourself because this wasn't about you; this was about xavier.

"i'm so fucking scared that she's going to get me locked up. i can't even blame her- all of the evidence points directly at me! and these nightmares, they plague me in my sleep and i wake up screaming and then i can't go back to sleep so i've just been painting that fucking thing so i-" his rambling is cut short when he hiccups through his frustrated tears. he felt angry and hurt and afraid.

you leaned down to hug his head, pushing his face into your tummy as he sniffles. "i'm sorry, xavier. i wish there was something i could do."

xavier looked up from your (now wet) shirt to say, "just listening is enough. don't worry about it, hopefully everything will fix itself soon."

and as he rested his head once more, an idea came to you.

there's a way to help xavier.

> > >

three knocks and wednesday was ready to order thing to strangle the person at the door.

she lifted from her desk, about to tell off the perpetrator for interrupting her writing time. when she opened the door, however, she recognized you as the person that xavier constantly follows around.

"enid isn't here," she said point blank, beginning to shut the door. you stick your hand out and risked amputation to make sure it doesn't close, "actually, im here to see you."

wednesday narrowed her dead eyes, "go on then. explain."

"i need to know where the hyde's lair is."

wednesday's facial expression didn't change, but you could tell she was confused.

"why don't you ask xavier? he would know."

the fake smile that you wore to feign being nice dropped. instead, you replaced it with a tight, irritated line on your lips.

"haha, yeah, i would. yknow, if he were the hyde. but here i am, asking you. why do you think that is?" you said all this with a lighthearted tone through clenched teeth.

wednesday could read the passive aggressiveness of your words but decided to press on, "try looking at his gallery of police evidence. that would give you the answer you're looking for."

with that, the door closed and you soon heard the sharp clicks of a type writer. you knew she was talking about xavier's art studio, but he hasn't allowed you in since people started dying around the school.

you decided that the only way to enact your plan would be to sneak into the renovated shed. sneaking in you could do, but distracting him for enough time to find something was completely different.

fuck, this is gonna be hard.

> > >

in the end, enid was your best bet. your plan was for enid to ask him for help on a subject and get him to tutor her for a bit in the library.

she agreed immediately, hoping it would also make ajax jealous; it was a win-win situation.

though, when she asked, you would not tell her why you needed her to do this in the first place. she was skeptical but trusted that you were doing it for a good reason.

finding the studio was easy, you had been there so many times that you knew the trail like the back of your hand. you were xavier's rock after his breakup with bianca, so it made sense that he'd commonly invite you to paint with him in his secret hideout.

when you made it there, you took no time to begin searching every single art piece for a deeper meaning. xavier mentioned that he was having nightmares about the foretold monster, but wouldn't allow you to see the art "for your own safety".

there was nothing of value on the walls and canvases, so you turned to plan b.

you bent down to the trash, fishing through it, hoping you'd find something important. about ten pieces of paper had been uncrumpled by the time you found something worth your dumpster diving.

"there it is!" you excitedly whisper-scream to yourself.

it was a drawing of the monster in front of a familiar cave. though its name and exact location eluded you, there was someone who would know those exact details.

later, after asking eugene if he knew anything considering you'd seen him working alongside wednesday on the investigation, you set the final steps of your plan in motion.

it is here that you will find out who the hyde is, if only to relieve xavier of his stress.

> > >

"enid, we've gone over this topic, like, ten times. i think you're just a lost cause," xavier said in exasperation. he had been attempting to teach enid the different geometrical formulas but she hasn't understood a single word he's said in the past two hours.

xavier, giving up, grabs his phone off the library table to check his notifications.

"huh, that's weird."

"what?" enid asked.

"(y/n) hasn't texted me. usually she'd have sent several messages asking to hang or something by now," he frowned, his expression a dark overcast.

enid, feeling something was off, finally broke, "uhm, well, (y/n) kind of asked me to distract you. im not really sure what for, but she did mention something about an art studio?"

xavier's heart lept in his chest. "what?"

"yeah, sorry, i felt she had a good reason but now i'm a little worried, " enid replied with an awkward laugh.

he wracked his brain for any reason that you might have had to go to his studio. a surprise? was she curious about the paintings i wouldn't let her see? why would she need to sneak around to do it?

instead of searching for an answer that wouldn't come to him, xavier stood from the table, gave a small "thanks", and left the library in a hurry.

at the studio, he found nothing amiss. none of the paintings were gone and nothing had been moved.

that's what he thought, however, until he saw the trash can laying on its side in the corner of the room. kneeling, he sifted through the scattered, unfolded papers.

his eyebrows knitted together in further confusion. what is missing?

then it hit him:

the drawing of the hyde's lair.

xavier didn't know exactly what you were up to, but he knew with every fiber of his being that it was definitely dangerous. he was absolutely terrified.

the doors burst open as xavier ran out of the studio, an unwelcome gust of wind blowing many of the drawings off the walls. at that moment, he couldn't have cared less.

a mirage of trees passed him by as he sprinted. the nighttime autumn air was far too cold for the season.

"fuck, fuck!"

the words were strangled and every noise around him felt muffled; all he could hear was the crunching of the leaves beneath his racing feet and his own hammering heartbeat.

"(y/n)!" he shouted, the distress in his voice echoing back at him.

xavier slowed to a stop, unable to tell where he had gone in his desperation to find you. he took a second to breathe when a shrill scream sounded from an unknown direction.

the scream of a girl. a girl who was horrified, or worse, in danger.

and he would know that voice from anywhere. it was someone familiar; someone close to him. the person most important to him.

"(y/n)! where are you!?" he yelled in response, but the forest had turned into something akin to a funhouse mirror maze and he couldn't tell left from right.

xavier heard footsteps running toward him at a high speed, and just as he began dash in the similar direction, you came into full view.

pain spread through his chest as you slammed into him, sending you both crashing to the moist soil beneath.

you were laying on top of him now; shaking with labored breaths.

it rook a moment for xavier to process what had happened, but he wrapped his arms around you with little delay.

"you- are you okay!? what were you doing!? are you stupid!? there's a fucking monster on the loose and you-"

he shut his mouth when saw a steadily growing red patch on his shirt.

"you're bleeding! oh shit, we need to get you back to nevermore fast," he was quick to hold you, your body laying bridal style across his arms.

you winced in pain, sobbing out the words, "i'm sorry. i'm sorry xavier, i just wanted to help. i really wanted to help. i'm sorry."

xavier didn't give a shit about your apology. he wasn't mad at you. he was mad at that thing that hurt you. he was fucking furious.

he had many, many things to say to you but for now, he'd let you rest in his arms.

he then headed back in the direction he had come from, you now tucked safely in his embrace.

> > >

once the final stitch was in, xavier was allowed to visit your hospital room.

the bright white lights made him feel sick. even more so when he saw you sitting in bed with a hospital gown and an IV drip in your arm.

the moment he walked in, you gave him a warm, content smile.

"is right now really a good time for you to be smiling?" xavier questioned, sitting on a seat next to the bed.

you held the hand that he placed on the edge of the sheets, "well, i was able to achieve my goal."

"at the cost of several pints of blood and a couple scars on your arm? what was worth that?" he asked, unrestrainable anger surfacing on his face.

though, when he took in the finer details of your state, he couldn't help but soften. many scrapes graced your skin from the collision earlier; the complexion of your face much paler than normal.

rubbing his knuckles to ease his frustration, you say, "i was able to convince wednesday that you're not the hyde. how could she believe that out of all the people you could attack, you'd attack me?"

something clicked in xavier's head and it all made sense. this all started after his breakdown in the hallway, caused by wednesday's meddling. the sneaking around, stealing his drawing and going off into the woods.

"so you did this on purpose? you scared me half to death!" he bursted, his emotions a flurry of love, anger, and guilt.

"so what if i did? it's just a few scratches."

god, he loved you. could you believe he had yet to even ask you out?

[batsvnte]

𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞 • 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing(s): Wally Darling

Sypnosis: you seem to not get enough of these phone calls you’ve been getting from Wally. Not like how he’s acting recently

Warning(s): Obsessive behavior, cursing, reader is 0.01% away from breaking something, also hints reader is progressively getting sick, ooc maybe, not proofread

Song used: Telephone by Lady Gaga

Word Count: 2K

Notes: black gender neutral!reader (they/them pronouns) with lovesick! Wally. Here’s my go at the lovesick au heunehueeb— the color for the lyrics are killing me but it’s fine. Also decided to go for the second person to see how this works. Au belongs to @halohelene on tik tok, characters belong to @/partycoffin

Not that I don’t like you, I’m just at a party

You wished that you realized sooner.

The little signs that was being given off ever since that rainy day that occurred few weeks prior to what was happening now. You recalled how drenched everyone became since they were out in the rain. One of your neighbors, Wally Darling, specifically. Two days later is when it started showing physically since he was coming out to less and less. The everyone concluded that he was down with an sickness that Wally came down with.

Lounging around in your home without anything planned for the day as usual. Though part of you was reluctant to hear knocking on your door, or the phone's ringing. Waiting for someone to talk to you and drag you to bring them into their fun shenanigans they have planned for the day. You often shake away the thought, wanting the day to be by yourself as some way to recharge yourself due to your social battery being inherently low for the past couple of days.

You were broken out of your thoughts the moment the phone rang. You nearly shoot up right out of your seat before relaxing, realizing it might be one of the neighbors calling you. You suspect it would be Sally since she's been recently calling you a lot. For advice on the plays she has written and notes that she rambles to you about scenes. All the usual stuff that you and Sally would talk about for hours.

"Hello? (L/N) speaking." It was like an automated line that is always said whenever the phone was picked up by you.

No answer. You thought that it was some mistaken call that was directed to you. You were about to speak again before your voice was caught up in your throat.

"Hello neighbor.."

Wally's voice filled your ear. You haven't talked to him in a long while which surprised you in the slightest. Part of you was relieved that he was calling you.

"Hey Wally!" A smile spread across your face. "I haven't heard from you in a while. Are you feeling okay?"

"I'm feeling great, neighbor." Through his monotonous voice there was some bit of comfort for him through those words. "I'm so glad you picked up. I've missed your voice."

Here was the start of what you thought was to be a short conversation. Chatting about what you were doing the past couple of days and rambling about your interests to him. He didn't have much to say but he made it known that was listening to every single thing you said. Wally would often times thrown in compliments which caught you off guard. Maybe this was the first sign you needed to know.

"Look, Wally I need to go." It was your third reminder to him since you realized how long you've been in the phone for.

"What about the story? Can you tell me more about it, please?"

"I'll tell you soon."

"But–"

You didn't hear the rest of what he had to say due to bringing the phone away from your ear while uttering a quick bye before hanging up. You let out a soft sigh, not realizing how late it's gotten. The sun was already at its prime of setting, revealing only streetlights as its main source to see the outside world clearly. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion as you wondered what time it was. And how long you've been on the phone for.

And I am sick and tired of my phone ringing

Getting prepared for your night time routine you realized you weren't as tired as you thought to be. You just been staring up at the ceiling for the past consecutive hours of the night. You decided against your thoughts of attempted sleeping, getting up from your warm covers and into the chill air of your room.

You chose to do you hair, wanting a new hairstyle for yourself. Turning on some music just loud enough for you to hear only you started with plaiting your hair. You were somewhat aware of how long it would take, but it didn't matter. Just as long as you didn't sit around doing nothing without any ounce of exhaustion is something you didn't want to do.

Through the music you mindlessly part and plait your hair into tiny strands to make braids. You didn't realize how many you've done before you heard a noise. Slowly down your pace you glance to the radio that was carelessly tossed onto you bed. You've heard this song more than enough times to count the beats to the song.

Something about it was throwing you off.

Listening closely to the noise you've made a slow realization of the phone ringing. It was faint since the phone was in a completely different room but it felt like it was directly next to you. Questions starting to flood your mind as you finally finish the hair strands in your hand, directing your eyes over to the closed door of your bedroom.

'How long has the phone been ringing?'

It could've been minutes since the phone has been ringing. Getting a random call in the middle of the night scared you somewhat even though the phone line was directly connected to your friendly neighbors. You turn your head back to the mirror that you were seated in front of. It was better not to answer the phone right now since it was probably a random call accidentally made to you. But was it? You didn't know at all. You just needed to finish what you started.

After the final braid was done, you cleaned yourself up and flopped down on your bed. Barely missing the radio that tilted to the side due to your weight on the bed. Exhaustion finally caught up with you and you fell asleep.

Sometimes I feel like I live in Grandcentral Station

For the next couple of days was a never ending cycle for you. It weirded you out at first without any question. But the more you repeated the same action, it would just happen not even minutes later once you were away from it. Waking up to a mundane routine is something you wished for.

Wake up, get yourself breakfast, phone rings for several minutes, do you daily activities friends, get dinner, and go to sleep.

Wake up, phone rings for several minutes, get yourself some breakfast, the phone rings for an hour, do your daily activities, get dinner and go to sleep.

The phone rings for several minutes, wake up, phone rings for two hours, get yourself breakfast, the phone goes off, stay indoors, the phone rings, dinner, the phone rings, and go to sleep.

The phone rings again. The ringing was driving you insane. It was going on any time you were inside your own home. Whenever you went to another's house, their phone was silent as ever. Something that you had wished for. But it wasn't the only thing that kept you up late at night. You've been having conversations with Wally prior to the endless phone calls. Part feeling bad that he was still stuck in his home instead of being outside and spending time with the neighbors. You hadn't realize that his condition was getting progressively worse the more you kept talking to him.

Wally wanted to hear your voice more. He needed to hear you talk about whatever came to mind or was brought up. The sound of your voice was a melodious tune to him. Wally couldn't help it at all.

You wished you connected it sooner than expected.

And yet here you were. You were sitting down at the dinner table that was in your own home, your food gone untouched. You could only stare blankly at the plate in front of you knowing well that it's gone cold. Your eyes slowly drifted over to the phone that was resting on the counter. You had moved it during one of your calls with Wally so you can multitask: talk to him while making yourself something to eat. Easier and more convient for you, wasn't it?

It's been ringing once again. Your mind automatically thought it was Wally calling you again. It couldn't be anyone else to call you this late at night.

How else would he know that you tend to stay up into the late hours of the night. Or how you would wake up without a thought, doing whatever gets you back into exhaustion so you have more energy for tomorrow. How else could he know these details about you that you never mentioned.

You pushed the chair back without cringing at the screeching floorboard you caused it to make. You storm into the kitchen, opening various of drawers and digging through the various amount of supplies that you had stashed away. You were doing it aggressively to the point were you could've accidentally taken out an entire drawer. Pulling and slamming over and over again before you found what you were looking for. You scooped up a pair of scissors into your hands with the satisfaction of finally finding your desired item.

Pushing yourself away from the messy drawers and cabinets, you rush back over to the phone. You nearly knock over the phone which would've been desirable but it wasn't what you were aiming for. Going to the other side, you trace the long thin cable that connected your phone to the house, which gave access to anyone calling you. Finding no care for the length, you swiftly snip the cord in half.

An unfamiliar silence filled the room. Lowering your hands, you let one end of the cord slip through you hands and onto the floor. Relief washes over your body was you stand up properly. Sliding the scissors gently onto the counter. Turning away from the phone with no care what you're going to do with it. As long as it was silent, you were happy.

The phone rings.

You nearly snap your neck to look at the phone once again. Tou were thinking you might be imagining it all over again. The phone vibrates as the ringing starts up again. You were sure that you cut the phone line. What other cord could be connected to the phone.

'What the fuck is going on? Why is it ringing? How is it still ringing!? Just fucking stop!'

One thing led to another and you found yourself on the floor sitting against the wall. Viewing the phone that was at a distance due to it being knocked over by you throwing it at a nearby wall. It didn't break fully which made you more frustrated, but you didn't have anymore energy to deal with it. You were tired. You wanted it to stop.

"Now neighbor.. is that a way to answer a friend?" Wally's faint voice was heard through the phone, but you made no effort to get closer to hear him better.

"You destroyed your phone," Wally continues to speak with a loving tone in his voice. He sounds genuine, but you knew that there was another emotion present. "How can I be able to hear your voice if I can't call you.. Don't you think it would be better to visit me?”

You remained silent. Something about the suggestion was almost to good to pass up. It has been days since you’ve seen him, and you didn’t want anything more than to make up the lost time with the shorter puppet. But then again, Wally was sick and you weren't going to risk getting others down if you ended up getting sick as well.

You could only stare at the phone but you could feel Wally’s eyes focused on you. Eager for an answer.

Tonight I’m not taking no calls, cause I’ll be dancing

This is so messy omFG

I was working on another one au thing I saw on tik tok but somehow this au dragged me back here. I’ve been so stressed because of my grades and exams but writing this made me feel better at least. But like- you finna go see him or nah 👀

[talesofesther]

birthday girl

Wednesday Addams x Reader

This story belongs to the Sweet Calamity universe

Summary: Wednesday tries to make something special for your birthday.

A/N: A sweet little thing for my favorite universe. And also as a birthday gift for my dear friend @eviekensington. <3

Masterlist 

It was a day like any other; the sun was peeking through the clouds, your colleagues had sour faces in the morning, your girlfriend's hand was warm in yours.

Just a normal Thursday.

Or at least you hoped it would be.

You were walking out of your last class with Wednesday, talking with her about the upcoming test. Well, you were talking, she was listening and humming along.

The day went by as normal, the sun just a few hours short of setting, and no one had acknowledged it was your birthday yet.

Just how you liked it.

Honestly, it's not that you don't like when people remember your birthday, you do — it shows they care. Yet the sometimes overwhelming attention that comes with it is not exactly something you love.

One person wishes you a happy birthday and suddenly there are people you don't even know pulling you into a hug to do the same. It feels like the spotlight is on you for the whole day. That, you don't like.

To avoid things like that, you preferred to keep it a secret. Though this year there's something different; you had your soulmate with you. A soulmate who's very good at uncovering secrets.

"I happened to forget my hunting knife at the ballroom," Wednesday suddenly interrupted your rambling, "would you accompany me to get it?"

"Uh-" you didn't know what she was doing with a hunting knife at the school's ballroom in the first place, but there was no reason for saying no to spending more time alone with her, "yeah, of course."

Wednesday gave you a barely there smile and squeezed your hand before pulling you along.

Maybe you should have expected it, what with the way she was being all secretive today, dodging your attempts at making plans for later and sending texts to someone whilst in class — you barely saw Wednesday touch her cellphone on a normal day; that should've been reason enough for you to guess something was off.

You pushed open the ballroom doors and were immediately greeted with chantings of happy birthday. Enid, Ajax, Bianca, Yoko, Divina, Xavier, Eugene, and many others of your friends occupied a small portion of the big ballroom; there was a table with a cake and drinks on top of it and a haphazard cut-out birthday sign taped to the wall along with a few balloons.

Placing a hand over your racing heart, you looked at Wednesday beside you, she had a glint of pride in her eyes.

"You weren't assuming I was unaware, right?" She smirked, then motioned for you to walk further into the ballroom, "you can thank Enid for the party."

You didn't have much time to answer before Enid was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug; "happy birthday, Y/n." She pulled back, half-heartedly glaring at you, "I can't believe you weren't going to tell me it's your birthday."

"Well, I-" you started with a timid chuckle.

"No matter," the werewolf kept going, a bright smile on her lips that you couldn't help but copy, it did feel nice to have people who cared. "Wednesday found out just in time."

Enid was also the first to give you a present after all of your friends hugged you; it was a large pink box that had a knitted sweater inside it, the fabric unbelievably soft, in shades of purple and lilac — it was bound to become your favorite.

For what felt like hours you ate, drank, received gifts, and celebrated with your friends. It was nice — until the attention became overwhelming, until you were craving some fresh air.

Luckily, you had someone who apparently could read you like an open book.

You were putting away your empty cup when you felt nimble fingers touching your elbow. Her presence so familiar to you that you didn't even need to turn to see who it was — your soul knew the shape of hers already — but you did anyway, pursing your lips in a smile.

"Are you not enjoying your festivities, mi flor?" Wednesday spoke with a softness reserved for you only.

"I am, really I am," you reassured a little too urgently, biting your lip when all you got from her in response was a raised eyebrow telling you to be honest. "It's just- I don't like much attention on me as is, and here, I feel like all eyes are on me."

Wednesday hummed, her brows scrunched in thought, "Enid said to me that's what you'd like when I told her I wanted to do something for today. I apologize."

You could swoon. You wanted to kiss away the little pout on Wednesday's lips — so you did, you cupped her face with one hand and gave a peck to her lips; "don't apologize, I loved it. Just the fact that you thought of doing something already means everything to me."

The dimmed lights of the ballroom almost hid the blush on her pale cheeks. Almost. Her fingers trailed down your arm, creating goosebumps on your skin until her hand found yours, "come with me."

"What about them?" You glanced at your friends. They were laughing with each other and stuffing themselves with cake.

"They won't mind."

With her hand in yours, Wednesday took you all the way to the lake just outside the school walls, its water was glistening with the fading sunlight and the few leaves on the trees were rustling with the cold wind. It was gorgeous, straight out of a painting.

She sat down with you on the wooden deck, both your feet just short of touching the water.

"This better?" Wednesday asked, her eyes expectant on you.

"Yeah," you intertwined your fingers with hers and brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles, "it's the best."

Wednesday knew you loved all things nature, she reprimanded herself for this not being her first option. Though you genuinely looked happy, with a soft smile permanent on your lips and the golden sunset reflecting in your eyes.

You watched in blissful silence as the sun slowly disappeared behind the mountains, your thumb gently tracing the skin on your girlfriend's hand.

"Thank you, this really is the best birthday," you said quietly so as to not disturb the atmosphere around you.

You felt Wednesday's eyes on you, "because you're here," you told her. Despite being true, your own words made you smirk as you waited for the reaction you knew they'd cause.

"That's nauseating," Wednesday grumbled, tugging at your hand so it would rest on her lap.

"You love it," you bumped her shoulder with yours, stretching your feet to kick the water underneath you.

Wednesday held back a smile. She did love it.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany

[hyunverse]

midnight existential crisis ꔫ seungmin

best friend!seungmin && reader.

genre — fluff, drabble.

warnings — vomit.

about — you and your best friend have a talk about the future.

note — hi!!! first request for skz, kinda nervous. hope u enjoy this bubba ^_^

part two here.

"oh my god i feel disgusting," you cry out, placing down half a slice of pizza.

several boxes of pizza are stacked on the table, some empty and some not. you managed to finish most of them, leaving only two boxes full.

seungmin merely watches — partially amused. out of boredom and greed, you decided to buy every topping of pizza available in domino's. he had told you that it's impossible to finish them all, but you insisted — said that it's possible if it's personal-sized. after three hours, he's currently basking in the glory of being able to say "i told you so."

the couch dips at your weight as you sink down, whining, "it's not fair. you barely ate any."

he shrugs, "i ate like three boxes."

"you have no ambition!"

"are you seriously insulting me for knowing the capacity of my own stomach?"

you loathe how seungmin always seems to have a rebuttal. he always has witty comebacks, yet so composed — it's his role in your shared apartment. amidst the calamity among you, hyunjin, and felix — he's always been the smartest one despite his own chaotic shenanigans. it's the very reason why you get along with him best.

"my god, minnie," you whimper, hand gently rubbing your bloated stomach, "one push on my stomach and my insides will immediately burst out."

a complete mistake on your part. it's not seungmin if he isn't constantly searching for ways to annoy you. before you know it, his hands are attempting to push your stomach. as you try to avoid his attacks, the two of you laugh, and laugh — until it slowly turns to silence. a homely type of silence.

“feet,” seungmin breaks the silence.

you’re laying on the armrest of the sofa, him as well but on the opposite. legs stretching out — his feet are now on top of yours. menacingly, he pinches your foot with his toes. you yelp out, kicking him in the shin in process.

“annoying ass!”

“at least i have an ass,” his response has you fuming in the inside.

“fuck you, i can’t wait ’til hyunnie and lix comes back.”

seungmin glances at the clock, eyebrows furrowed, “it’s midnight and they’re not here yet. . . they’ve literally been out since morning.”

a heavy sigh slips past your lips, and you sink yourself even more into the sofa. you wish the whole earth could swallow you alive. you, and the pathetic feeling harboring in your chest.

“it’s valentine’s day, hyunjin and felix both have dates,” you say, “why are we staying in?”

“‘cause we’re bitchless.”

“why are we bitchless? like, i don’t get it,” you add — seungmin could tell it’s the beginning of a long midnight talk, “felix has so many friends that he could go out with a different friend every other night. hyunjin gets both dudes and chicks, he gets asked out every week. why am i alone? like, what’s wrong with me, minnie?”

your best friend props up his body with his elbows to get a better look at you. he doesn’t answer your question — knows you well enough to know that you don’t actually want an answer — you just want to ramble. and he’s there to listen.

“i feel so lonely, seungmo, so lonely. i feel like i’m going to die alone. i can’t pinpoint what’s unlikeable about me, really. you, however. . . so many people like you, y’know that? have you ever considered, i don’t know. . . freeing your schedule to date? not be too stressed over college?”

the question causes seungmin to plop back down onto the leather sofa. he buzzes his lips together. it isn’t the first time he’s heard the statement, truly. the people he has casually dated has told him that he’s too driven by college, that he’s too determined.

“i don’t want to change that part of myself just so someone would date me, y/n,” he exhales the breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding, “i want to be loved without feeling like i’m begging for it. and we’re almost done with our degree, too. so, what’s the point anyway?”

you shoot up in your seat. a nauseous sensation starts to creep up your system — your legs move before you could think — suddenly you’re bent over the toilet, vomitting out all the food you’ve eaten. seungmin isn’t too far behind you. by the time you’re hunched over the toilet, you could feel his larger hands massaging your shoulders and rubbing your back.

“let it out,” he says, voice hushed.

once you’re done, the raven head helps you. he turns on the sink for you, even grabbed a couple tissues for you.

“we’re almost done with college,” you cry out, sitting on the bathroom floor with teary, red eyes and a snotty nose.

seriously, the dominos workers must’ve drugged the pizzas with something to make you so emotional.

“it’s our last semester, seungmo,” you add, sniffling.

obediently, seungmin sits beside you. he gently pushes your head down onto his shoulder, letting you cry out all your emotions.

“it’s so scary, seungmo, too scary.”

“of course it is scary, it’ll only get scarier as days pass by.”

“i feel like i’m the only one with no life plan. i know felix wants to work at a bakery once we graduate, and hyunjin’s going for interior design. i know you have plans too, no way you don’t,” you ramble in one breath, “i genuinely don’t know where i’m going after college. it’s so pathetic.”

seungmin shrugs, “i don’t know what i’m going to do either.”

“what?”

“i’m having second thoughts about my major.”

your lips purse into an ‘o’. a part of you feels bad for seungmin, considering you know how hard he studies, but a part of you feels relieved that you’re not the only one.

“that’s a huge yikes.”

“it is,” seungmin huffs as he rests his head against the blue tiled walls, “but i guess that’s that. sometimes the plan you initially plotted just doesn’t suit you.”

you nod at his words, “wow. we’re bitchless and jobless.”

it’s all pathetic — crying and vomitting at the thought of the future but someway, somehow, having seungmin by your side makes it less lonely. less scary, even by just a little.

“you ever thought about how your burdens are truly only yours and cannot truly be shared?” seungmin asks in a matter-of-factly tone.

your stomach churns at the statement.

“yeah. . . all the time. i feel like you could share your feelings but it’s only to get it out of your system. at the end of the day, all the burden is only yours.”

seungmin shuffles in his spot, hugging both his legs to his chin.

you sigh, “i’m always here for you though.”

a soft smile paints seungmin’s visage. his hand reaches out to pat your head.

“me too. you’re stuck with me until we’re both wrinkly on our death beds,” he jokes, “i don’t think i’m moving out once we graduate. i think i’m staying, i’ll find something to do in this area.”

you nod again, looking up at him. your eyes meet his — he sends you a reassuring smile. as if to say — “i’m with you, we don’t have to rush.”

for the first time in months, you genuinely feel reassured.

“me too, then. i’m staying.”

the night goes on — the clock constantly moving but neither of you does. you talk about nothing but everything, about how you used to be passionate about many things, how seungmin actually wanted to get serious with his last date but was ghosted, how hyunjin’s probably getting laid while the two of you wail and complain. it’s fun, and sad at the same time.

when the clock strikes four, two bodies are entangled on the bathroom floor, slightly snoring. the sight leaves hyunjin utterly confused when he walks in.

“what in the world. . .” the long-haired boy mumbles, tilting his head as he watches, “yongbok! you need to see this!”

the pitter-patter of footsteps could be heard as felix approaches, arms still busy taking off his jacket.

“what? oh wow— bestie goals.”

hyunjin chokes back his laughter, not wanting to wake any of you up, “i’ll carry seungmin to bed, you carry y/n?”

“okay.”

[ykiwrite]

i'm not in love

[bad] description: Wednesday pays you a visit in school

"And this is how you do differential equations guys. Any questions? Do i need to explain it again?" asked the professor of your beloved subject math, sarcastically of course.

"No, no we get it" shouted the entire class collectively already ready to leave in hopes of finishing earlier than intended despite understanding close to nothing before being interrupted by a gem amongst stones.

"Yes, actually can you repeat that part where…"

At that very moment you and every single being in that room let out a disappointed and annoyed sigh. Muffling out every noise surrounding you along with your vision going dark as you rested your head between folded arms acting as a pillow. Might as well take a rest since your phone died meaning no music, no music meaning no other options left except sleep to pass the time.

The bell rang and you were pretty sure everyone right now wished to be people speeding down the hallway heading out. 

"Guys, silence please. Listen to me for a minute, this is very important which i forgot to mention. We'll finish quickly and you got your break."

His rambling, although you were detached from everything could be present up until it got quiet out of the blue. Raising your head and adjusting your vision wondering what's the reason behind the silence until you spotted the reason and made eye contact with it.

Quite impossible to miss the one and only, from head to toe wrapped in black Wednesday, your Wednesday Addams.

"I am sorry for interruption sir, i considered since the bell rang the class is over therefore i may come in."

"Well uh, yes you can but i didn't finish my lecture yet."

"Would you mind if i were to take a seat in the back of the class until it's finally over? I planned on waiting for someone from this class in front of the school but your lectures allegedly prolonged."

"Yes of course, go ahead." said the man whose voice you swore was trembling at one point as he turned around to bring a lecture to an end. "Where were we?", hand hovering above the board pointlessly moving in circles in order to remember. Great, now she even confused him which will make this even longer.

As Wednesday made her way to you, swiftly moving in between rows of desks and chairs people kept turning around once they were out of her vision. Both peripheral and the center one, it's better to play it safe.

"I see how you pay attention in class." was her first words of the day spoken to you when she sat next to your empty seat. Looking at your as well empty white notebook page you couldn't defend yourself.

"Wow, not even a hi and how are you for your beloved girlfriend?" you said faking a disappointed flat tone. "Besides, what are you doing here? I can already see 90% of people in this class won't sleep tonight because of you. I can't afford to pay for therapy bills." 

"That's entirely not my problem. The reason i visited is because Enid told me you didn't answer her text messages." 

(That definitely was not the reason but you let it slide)

"You mean your text messages? I know when you use her phone, Enid doesn't use proper grammar. It screams 'Wednesday'. Also my phone died so that's why."

"Hmmm" she muttered looking you dead in the eye as if interrogating with hope you will break and confess. "I'll take that as an excuse."

"Okay but what about the real reason you're here?" You said giving her a playful smile.

"What are you implying?"

"Just say you wanted to see me so, oh so desperately. It's normal, nothing to be ashamed of. Couples do that in case this is your first time hearing about it." You gave her a wink knowing it will make her roll eyes.

"Dude, is this your friend?" ruined the moment by a guy sitting in front of you that was quiet up until now, unfortunately.

"I mean-"

"I'm the girlfriend. Why?" 

Seeing both of your sour faces he was brave enough to push forward "Listen, i always had a thing for like goth girls so i was wondering if you're free but since you two-"

"Alright guys, class is finally over. I apologize for making you stay longer, i'll make it up to you by shortening next class. See you tomorrow and have a good day."

All of the class shuffling drowned out his attempt for a small talk as both Wednesday and you thanked whatever is lurking out there for cutting it short. Wednesday was visibly close to falling apart from that interaction and it's for the best you leave as soon as possible to prevent any unwanted injuries. Clearly on behalf of the guy.   Eventually getting through the crowd and out in open felt like a wish come true.

"Looook, it's snowing right? The first one this year" you commented eagerly while looking around the sky that's getting darker and darker by each second.

"It's just snow." looking over to your side she feels like you shapeshifted into a child in those few seconds she looked away. She wasn't familiar with this type of werewolves but there's a first time for everything.

"It's also Wednesday today! It must be a sign." you claimed.

"Sign for what?" asked Wednesday completely clueless.

"Oh you know, the "first snow" traditions." quoting with your hands.

"The first snow traditions? If it's something coming from the things you read on the internet or you and Enids highly intelligent conversations-"

"No it's not! It says you're supposed to kiss the loved one on the first snowfall of the year." Looking back to her, asking you "Really?" just above a whisper. She was still wary but how could she not trust you. It's you after all.

Taking a deep breath in she turned to you fixing your winter hat and dusting of snow that has fallen, hands naturally finding their own path down to your face as she allowed herself to relax around you. 

"This better be true" merely an inches of space between two of you. In fact, she wouldn't mind if it weren't the truth.

time skip

"You lied."

"About what are we talking about?"

"About the snow tradition. I can't believe i had to hear it from Enid and her computer that there is no concrete evidence behind the snowfall and a kiss." said Wednesday bringing up your last weeks made up fact.

"And what are you complaining about exactly?" provided no answer. You won against Wednesday, congratulations. 

notes: for the sake of the story pretend you don't attend Nevermore and Wednesday can roam around freely (also no offense for math lovers)

fun fact also: i accidentally deleted this after writing it for hours i almost deleted the app

[cherrysoojins]

८ bewitched , ateez laufey songs .

✉️. five of eight, song mingi. what love will do to you.

&ㅤㅤ 📦 ♡ warnings. sfw, fluff, small mention of wooyoung &. yunho, suited for all ages, not proofread ( might have spelling errors ), not the best one i don’t rlly like it :(, let me know if any other warnings that should be added ! 1161 wc.

taglist. @luvvvlyjoong , @cherrystar1117 , @dairyminki

song mingi has never acted this way before.

he has never actively sat there and talked to the walls of his room about someone— not even when he was mad at someone and needed to ramble at something or to somebody. he always did it in his head.

but this time, he felt the physical need to actually talk about it. this feeling.

this feeling that was overwhelmingly taking over every inch of his body, but more specifically, his heart and mind.

love was so visceral. mingi has been in love before, has liked plenty of other girls and stuff, but you… you made him question if he was actually in love with all of those girls in the past.

for them, it was the thought of knowing he was in love with them. he looked at them and thought, “man, i’m in love with her.”

but with you, he felt it, too. it was so hard to ignore this feeling, he felt it so deeply throughout this body. the warmth, the butterflies, longing and aching whenever you left or when you were so close to him but he couldn’t hold or touch you… he truly felt in love with you.

he didn’t think he was in love with you, he knew he was in love with you.

and with these new overwhelming new emotions, he had to talk it out. and so he talked it out with the wall in front of where he sat on the edge of his bed.

could he just have gone to his friends? yes, but wooyoung would just laugh and poke fun at him and yunho would tell mingi all the right things and give great advice, but mingi found that annoying for some reason.

so the wall was his new best friend.

he could talk to it and it would keep all his secrets, it wouldn’t make fun of him or give him annoying advice (that he probably needed)— it just listened and that was what he really needed at the moment. was just someone to listen.

he wishes it was you who was listening. the things he admitted to this wall were the words he wished he could admit to you.

that he re-reads his favorite romance book time and time again and imagines you as the female love interest because knows that it ends with the two main characters in love, which would be you and him.

and that’s a big shocker because since when did mingi ever read?

days where you and him couldn’t meet up with each other were always so hazy— they were slow and he couldn’t recollect a single memory on what happened on those days. but the days where you were there, they went by fast but he could oddly enough remember ever single detail from the moment you got to the meeting spot to the very second you both left, he could recall it all.

these things were all so simple yet felt so odd to say. it sounds like he’s gone crazy and is just saying random stuff that doesn’t make sense.

but in a way, that’s what love will do to you.

it drives you crazy, but it can ultimately make you so insanely happy— love is odd and crazy and doesn’t make sense. it was made to make you not think straight— it was made to just make you feel.

and mingi did indeed seem crazy and was indeed not thinking straight as his fingers tapped your name into the search bar of his contacts and hit the “call” button without hesitation.

love will indeed do crazy things to you, because if he was in his right mind he would never do something like this.

“hi, mingi!” your voice rang out, picking up halfway through the first ring, almost immediately.

mingi could feel his heart rate pick up at the mere sound of your voice speaking to him so happily, with a hint of tiredness in it.

he assumes you might’ve been sleeping since he called you at three in the morning.

but would he sound insane if he said the idea of you waking up from your slumber and immediately accepting his call was endearing and enough to make the butterflies in his stomach go absolutely wild?

“y/n,” he breathed out a breath he was unknowingly holding into the phone, a smile etching onto his face at the sound of your voice that could light up a million rooms at once. “did i wake you up?” he asked a moment later.

“you did, but that’s okay because it’s you.” you said softly into the phone in response. he could hear you shuffling around in your bed and the sound of the phone being placed onto your pillow.

he could only assume that if this went right, you wouldn’t be hanging up on him at all tonight. falling asleep on the phone sounded like such a childish thing to get excited about, but he didn’t care.

any moment with you, even if it meant he was taking on the role of a corny high schooler with his first girlfriend who fell asleep on call with him, he would cherish it and adore it.

because that is also, what love will do to you.

“y/n, i…”

love will make you a different person in some ways, and make you discover things about yourself that you didn’t know before.

and for mingi, it made him realize how hard he can love, how he needs to vent about these feelings and get them off of his chest.

“i really like you. actually, i’m in love with you. really.” mingi sputtered out before his mind could talk himself out of it and catch up with his actions and put a halt to them.

there was silence on the other line for a couple of seconds before he heard soft little giggles emit from you, unease drowning his body. what if you were laughing at him? what if you didn’t reciprocate his feelings? what happens after this if you reject him right now?

this was pathetic, he should’ve known better. you were too good for him, he didn’t deserve you and—

“i’m in love with you too, mingi.”

oh.

oh.

“oh.” he said, his entire body freezing up im pure shock, but then relaxed in pure relief as all the other troubled thoughts slowly left his mind.

“but i’m going to ignore your confession because you told me through a phone call and not face to face.” you added before hanging up.

mingi would have over thought about that too if you didn’t send a heart emoji to him through text immediately after, causing a smile to appear on his face.

love will do crazy things to you. it’ll make you do things that you wouldn’t ever do normally, it makes you irrational and thoughtless.

but in cases like these, mingi was fine with that.

note. this one wasn’t my favorite, especially the ending. i really tried though, i just kind of gave up on it because mingi’s wasn’t going the way i planned, but i hope you guys enjoyed it nonetheless !

[silkythewriter]

So I’d like to apologize if polyamorous relationships aren’t really something you write (I didn’t see anything about it in your pinned) but…

…Legoshi x Bill x shy!male reader (romantic) hcs?

Poly! Bill x shy male reader x Legoshi!

꧁𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬꧂

𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲: silkythewriter, formally known as weirdowithahat

𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐲/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: (the last image) was Reddit and reposted on Pinterest (artist is unknown nor do I know if this is from the official manga or creator, if you do know please let me know!), first image was reposted and/or reposted by N Kumi on Pinterest

𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝/𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: sublieu

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: Paru Itagaki.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: sorry if their outta character! Again I’m not so familiar with the beastars fandom since I don’t speed a lot of time in it nor did I even finish the show so again I apologize!😅

𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝:

🐅Bill and legoshi🐺

At first it was literally battlefield with these two, they would literally stare at each other with death glare’s while they fought each other in their minds on who got to spend or do whatever with you, it could be as simple as who gets to hold your hand

So as you can tell the beginning of the relationship was definitely bumpy. Both of them couldn’t even rap their heads around the fact that they would have to share you equally with one another. If you couldn’t tell they don’t really get along with each other sense their personality’s are so opposite to one’s another

If we’re talking about the first season or Beginning of the second I would say Bill has a big ego, and is filled with pride. While legoshi is shy and a bit timid, so he understands your struggles with being shy it’s a real pain. So he would help as much as he could to keep you from awkward situations, is it hard for him? Yea but I mean at least your comfortable!

Once bill is comfortable with legoshi enough he would actually take a hit for both of you and your shyness, even if it’s small like ordering your foods for you both or shoo-ing someone who’s clearly over stepping. I mean have you seen how big this guy is? Im sure it doesn’t take a lot for the person to scramble away

Both of them are very protective of you, even if your stronger or smaller then them doesn’t really matter. I feel like legoshi is more worried about you then anything and Bill, is just being Bill and gets jealous when the spot light of your attention isn’t on him (￣▽￣)💧 he is quick to scare anyone away even if they weren’t doing anything or are just friends

Your guys relationship are most likely a secret, but it doesn’t last long due to Bill bragging about being with you which just leads to people seeing you being touchy or to nice to legoshi and they start assuming something’s up when they see bill doing the same thing so yea the dots connect pretty quickly. Does anyone judge or say anything? No, cause that would be a death wish at that point. I mean cmon ones a tiger and the others a gray wolf does anything else need to be said?

After people figure it out trust me it’ll be a blessing in disguise because their will be less awkward interactions which you a great full for

In most conversations you have with these two is usually full of bill rambling about something and showing off or legoshi Rambling about bugs he found today and any other things, but sometimes on rare occasions both of them just shut up and listen to you talk of your up for it! They love hearing about your day or interest, but if your feeling extra shy they’ll Carry the conversation for you

Sometimes when you guys are free these two love dog piling you (depending if your bigger or smaller) or the love when you lay on them, they usually fight over who you choose but you just end up laying across both of them how does this work? Not sure you gotta make due with you have

Speaking of cuddles onetime you guys were sleeping and just chilling in which ever room you choose, and bill kept hearing a band on the bed. He was pretty annoyed and just grumbled while shifting a bit until he accidentally shifted onto legoshi’s tail which he basically put his full weight onto. And that hurt like a Mf, legoshi was quickly to yelp while accidentally kicking bill pretty heard. Yea that wasn’t the greatest time for both of em, turns out the noise he heard was legoshi’s tail wagging 💀

Their like your personal bodyguards really, I mean they walk with you to class, to lunch, and to break so you can tell why that looks a bit… intimidating but on the plus side most of any rude people avoid you.

Oh! Legoshi’s roommates adore you, they find you very fun to talk to and think your cool!, they usually snatch you away whenever legoshi brings you so they can play games with you 💀that’s why legoshi brings you to bills room instead cause one time they stole you while legoshi was in the bathroom and this guy started freaking out when he couldn’t find you in the small room. Turns out they brought you outside to show you something cool they found

Bill noticed this happens often and has a bit of a sour taste for them, probably doesn’t like them that much to be honest so don’t expect him to come over to legoshi’s room sadly

Overall these two boys don’t mind having a shy partner! They still think your cool either way. Plus legoshi understands so he can’t really blame you. As for the relationship itself it’s bumpy for the first few months but calms down after bill and legoshi start agreeing to get along with each other!

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

AHHH I LOVE WRITING POLY RELATIONSHIPS SO MUCH!!!!! Their super fun to explore! Anyway I hope you enjoy (*^‿^*)