#it makes me feel so stupid but i just wish that instructors could give more in depth and specific instructions

[halfdeadwallfly]

the only thing getting me through is the thought that i don't have physics lab next week

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"are you longing, is it Killing Time?"

"if i’m honest, think i want it. no more talking, no more nonsense."

synopsis// you work at a ballet studio and suna works at the karate dojo next door.

pairing// rintaro suna x gn!reader

word count// 3.9k

contents// ooc suna? idk he's like kinda smug in this... ive never written for him before so heed my warning. slight enemies to lovers but like kinda not really. osamu's obligatory accent. plot kinda speaks for itself i have no other warnings besides the fact that this kinda (majorly) sucks...

requested// by an anon!! im SO sorry this took me so long to write!!

notes// i know i said id never write for haikyuu again but i lied ok? take it. do what you will with this. sorry if this is all over the place... i feel very out of my element writing for haikyuu again LMFAO. also if anything mentioned about karate or ballet is wrong sorry!! i took ballet ONCE and taken karate never xoxo tbh i think the plot probably wouldve worked better as an smau but im not doin all that (respectfully.) anywho this was also inspired by killing time by movements (TOOOO GOOODDDDD)

Classical music and the whispers of the kids eight-counting their steps echo throughout the room. Everything is peaceful and as it should be... That is, until the mirror walls begin to vibrate violently from the sudden blaring of music from the studio next to yours. All the kids turn to look at you, confused about what’s happening, and you flash them a small apologetic smile.

“You guys keep practicing, okay? I'm gonna go next door and ask them to turn it down.” 

Satisfied with your guidance, they nod, and you quickly walk out. Though not comfortable leaving a bunch of children unsupervised, you leave your studio door open to make sure that you’re still able to hear them from outside. You sigh before walking into the next studio; frankly, you had gotten this far without having to interact with anyone else, and you just wished it would stay that way. Neither the kids nor their instructor seem to notice your presence. And even though you clear your throat, no one hears you.

“Excuse me!” 

Suddenly all heads are turning toward you, and you reflexively dig your feet into the floor to stop yourself from running back out. Their instructor waves the kids off, having them go back to practicing whatever karate move he had just taught them before walking up to you.

"Can I help you?” he says, his eyes boring into yours.

And suddenly. Suddenly, you hate him. Or, at the very least, strongly dislike him. He blasts his music, knowing damn well the walls are thin, and then has the audacity to give you attitude?

“Are you gonna say something, or are you just gonna stand there all day?” He stops and briefly looks you up and down, a small smirk playing on his face. "Actually, I wouldn’t mind that.”

Your jaw clenches, giving him the nicest smile you very well could muster. “Can you turn down your music? It’s distracting my kids.”

He hums and appears to consider it for a moment, and you're almost grateful—almost, because then he has to open his stupid mouth again.

“Maybe if you say please.”

Your eye twitches. "Okay, you know what? Nevermind." You glance over at his students briefly, making sure they aren't looking at the two of you, and when you confirm that they aren't, you flip him off, and all he does is laugh. You groan, and if you could slam his studio door shut without the glass shattering, you would.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

To no one’s surprise, he didn't stop playing his music at full volume—he claimed it pumped the kids up, and sure, maybe it did, but all it did was distract your own. And eventually, you two somehow fell into a game of who could play whose music louder. Considering your music consisted of different ballet numbers, it's safe to say he always won.

Week after week, you'd show up in his studio and ask him to just turn his music off, to lower the volume, to do something other than drive you crazy, but all he'd do was poorly flirt and smirk, his eyes always on you one way or another, and if you weren't so annoyed by him, you’re sure you would have found him captivating. It's not surprising when one day he’s the one showing up at your studio—you're actually excited about it, thinking that maybe, just maybe, he’s finally given up and is here to apologize. When you approach him and find all his students outside behind him, you quickly realize that's not the case. You glance between him and the kids.

“You guys go in and make friends, yeah?” You say as you move out the way to allow his students into your studio. You wait until they're all inside before stepping out and closing the door behind you. You whisper harshly, “What the fuck do you want?”

"Wow, you use that kind of language around your students?” He asks, his smirk all too evident on his face as he crosses his arms.

You stare at him blankly, no amusement etched on any of your features, and he awkwardly clears his throat.

“Our studio flooded.”

“Okay… What does that have to do with me?"

His shoulders slump as he groans. "Oh, c’mon.”

“How am I supposed to know what you want if you won't use your words like a big boy?” you ask, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

He glares at you, and for once, it seems like you're the one getting under his skin. “Fuck you.”

You mockingly tut and shake your head. "Wow, you use that kind of language around your kids?”

He stands there and kicks at the sidewalk, clearly having some internal debate you don’t care enough to ask about, but he tells you anyway.

“Would you… be willing to share your studio with us until they fix our studio?”

Without missing a beat, you laugh. “Yeah no. I don't even know your name... What if you're some serial killer?”

“First of all, it's Rintaro Suna. Second of all, do you really think they would hire me to work around kids if I was a serial killer?”

You shrug. You don’t care about the logistics; you just don’t want him in your studio.

“And third of all, seriously?” He crosses his arms, and his tone is full of the kind of disappointment you'd only find in a friend who’s been betrayed—not in between two strangers who’ve done nothing but “fight” about music for weeks on end.

“Yes seriously. Can’t you find a new studio?”

“Owner says it’s more expensive to do that than fix whatever got fucked up.”

“Then find someone else to share with,” you say as you turn to walk back into your studio.

Suna grabs your wrist, and as you look over your shoulder at him, he pouts. "Are you really gonna take this out on the kids just because you hate me?”

You stare at him blankly, but the more you think about it and let what he’s said sink in, the softer your face becomes, and suddenly your conviction is nowhere to be found—just another leaf blown away in the wind. “How did your studio flood?”

Happy with how you don’t seem like you're about to escape off into your studio anymore, Suna lets go of your wrist and starts explaining, “Well, one kid clogged the toilet and the other left the sink running.”

“Deserved,” you say through a snort.

“Whatever. Are you gonna share or not?”

“Fine,” you sigh. "But I swear to god, Suna, the second you piss me off or don’t listen, I'm kicking your ass out. This is still my studio.”

"Technically, it’s not even yours.”

You stare at him blankly, eyes narrowed, and Suna can immediately tell you’re already thinking about taking back your offer of letting him stay in your studio.

He coughs awkwardly. "I'll shut up now.” 

“Good choice.”

A beat passes between the two of you just staring at each other, and when Suna realizes you won't say anything more, he takes the initiative.

Tilting his head at you, he asks, "So, are you gonna tell me your name now?”

You continue staring at him blankly.

"Oh, cmon, we’re gonna be sharing a studio now.”

“It's Y/n L/n.”

"Well, Y/n,” he says, somewhat dragging out your name before teasing, "I always knew you had a soft spot for me.”

"I have a soft spot for the kids, not you,” you correct him, crossing your arms.

“Keep telling yourself that,” he says, brushing your shoulder with his as he walks past you and into your studio.

“Don’t just walk into my studio like you own it?!" you call out, following after him.

“Not your studio, and you don’t own it either.”

“You know what I mean, Suna!”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

It's almost scary how easily Suna and his students fit into your class. It didn’t even take a week for you to feel like having him in your studio was natural—how it should have always been. You hated how any ill-will you had toward him would suddenly vanish into thin air whenever you saw him interact with his or your students. You grew accustomed to your new routine with him.

Every other day, he could play his music and even teach some of your students some karate if they so desired, and vice versa. He’d bring you breakfast, and you'd bring him lunch, and sometimes the two of you would even go have dinner once all your students had left. You hated how he just wiggled his way into your life. You’re supposed to hate him—he used to play his music as loud as he could just to piss you off, and now you have dinner with him practically every day.

You’ve grown so fond of him that now, two months later, about to be three, you've completely forgotten why he’s here in the first place—that his residence in your studio is only temporary, and he’s just here till his studio is fixed. You’ve forgotten all about it because now you look forward to seeing him and actually want to see him more than you've ever wanted anything else before. and he feels the exact same because here he is, slumped in a chair in the back of the room, frowing as he watches his and your students combined because you’re not here.

The door swings open, and Suna can't help but let out a sigh of relief, practically jumping out of his seat, ready to go run and spin you in his arms like some shitty rom-com, only to find that it wasn't you who walked in; nope, it was just his friend. Suna’s face falls as he drops back into his chair with a groan.

“Okay, lovely to see ya too,” Osamu snorts as he walks over to Suna, taking the seat next to him.

He weakly tries pushing Osamu out of the chair, mumbling, “That’s Y/n’s seat.”

"Well, they aren't here, are they?”

Suna scowls at him but gives up trying to push him out nonetheless.

“Where are they anyway?”

“Running late, I guess.”

Osamu hums in response, and a comfortable silence falls over them. The only noise in the room was the kids whispering their next move to themselves or helping their friend with something. Suna watches them intently, with the care and attention of someone handling glass, and quickly finds a few students who need help.

"Hey, keep your leg straight when you kick,” he calls out to one of his students before turning to one of yours, “And you bend your knees more when you do your... uh-“ 

"Plié," the child supplies for him.

Suna nods. "Yeah, that whatever.”

Osamu doesn't know whether he should laugh at or side-eye Suna. “Do ya not know their names?”

"I don’t get paid enough to know their names.”

He shakes his head, deciding that commenting on that is not worth his time, and instead goes to why he came here in the first place. "I'm surprised yer still here, to be honest.”

"A job is a job.”

"No, I mean in this studio. I figured the repairs in yer’s would be finished by now; it’s been like, what? almost three months?”

Suna mumbles a slow, drawn-out, “…yeah.”

Osamu sits up straight, shifting in his seat to face Suna entirely. “What the fuck was that?”

“Don’t cuss in front of the kids; what’s wrong with you?" He reprimands, slapping Osamu’s arm.

“Don’t change the subject.”

"I'm not; I'm just saying.”

Osamu rolls his eyes. "Okay, well, start by saying what’s up with the repairs.”

He does not. “Y/n will be back soon; you should leave.”

“Suna,” Osamu monotones.

"If I tell you, will you leave?”

“What did ya do, Suna?”

Suna looks away as he embarrassedly mumbles, “The repairs could’ve been done a long, long time ago…”

“What?!” Osamu practically shrieks as he sits up straight. “What do ya mean?!”

Suna glares at Osamu before looking toward the kids, whose attentions were caught by Osamu yelling and waving them off. “Ignore him.”

“Oh my god, have ya been stalling the repairs?” He asks, this time quietly. “Why would ya do that?”

“Why do you think, Osamu?”

Suna’s attitude does nothing to deter Osamu, not when he’s just had the realization of a lifetime. “Oh my god... Oh my god! Ya have a crush on Y/n, don't ya?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Suna hisses through clenched teeth, his eyes wide and threateningly boring into his.

“What happened to not cussing in front of the kids?”

Suna stares at him blankly, and Osamu merely sighs, slumping back into his seat.

"I can't believe this. I don't know if this is pathetic or cute—kinda both, to be honest.”

"Osamu, I swear-“

With neither of them having heard the studio door swing open, you unknowingly interrupt his threat: "Hey! Sorry, traffic was horrible—oh, who’s this?"

“Doesn't matter; he was just about to leave,” Suna says without missing a beat while standing straight up.

"I'm Osamu,” he says, suddenly approaching you. “And yer the infamous Y/n, I'm assuming?”

“Infamous..?” you question under your breath before shaking your head and deciding to ignore it. “Uh yeah—are you friends with Suna?”

“No.”

“Yes,” Osamu answers, ignoring Suna’s response. "I should get going, though. Nice meeting ya, Y/n!”

“Yeah, you too…”

Osamu waves you goodbye before winking at Suna and disappearing out the door.

You hum. “So what was that about?”

“No idea,” Suna shrugs as he walks away to gather his students.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

Suna has been weird ever since a week ago, when you walked into the studio to Suna and his friend. He’s avoided you as best as he can, and even when he’s not actively trying to somehow get away from you, he still feels Pluto far from his more than dry replies. And frankly, you’ve had enough. You’re driving yourself crazy trying to figure out what you’ve done wrong and how to fix it—you can’t know unless he tells you.

Which is why, when both of your students left, you borderline kidnapped him. You grabbed him by his arm and dragged him into your car, driving the two of you to a restaurant, where you now sit in an awkward silence waiting for your food. But this is good, right? If he truly didn’t want to be in this position with you right now, you’re more than certain he could’ve put up a winning fight, yet he didn't, so that’s good. This is good.

"Did I do something?”

“Yeah,” he replies without missing a beat or looking up at you.

“Huh?” Your heart is in your throat as you blink at him. “What did I do?”

“Exist.”

“What?” You shake your head in disbelief. "I thought we were getting along."

“We are—god.” As he finally looks up at you, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. You almost feel like you're back in his studio for the very first time with the way his eyes are boring into yours. “We get along too well, jesus christ, Y/n, you drive me crazy.”

“And you don’t drive me crazy?” you ask, giving him a crooked smile.

“You don't know what you’re saying,” he says flatly, yet the way it’s almost breathless has you thinking maybe he actually wants you to know what you’re saying—to know all of the implications that come with it and fully embrace them.

“Does it matter? Just stop ignoring me, Suna; I hate it.”

"I hate it too.”

“So then why are you doing it, idiot?”

“Because Y/n, I-“

You stare at him expectantly, patiently waiting for his answer.

"I get too distracted with you; I need to teach my students," he mumbles the rest of his sentence as he looks away from you, your scrutinizing gaze sending shivers down his spine and crushing any idea he had to say something else—say the truth—well, the whole truth, because you very well do distract Suna far too much for his liking.

“That sounds like a shitty excuse.”

Suna hums, and when he makes no move to explain himself, you wonder, “Why do I distract you so much?”

“Why do you care if I ignore you so much?”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t act childish, Suna.”

Suna merely raises an eyebrow at you, still waiting for your answer, just like you were waiting for his only a few moments ago.

You sigh. "I'm not sure.”

"Well, I am, so I won’t say anything until you're sure too.”

“That’s not fair, Sunaaaa,” you whine, sliding down your seat like a petulant child.

He shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. "I'm more than happy to wait.”

"Whatever, just stop ignoring me?”

"Yeah, I'll stop,” he says, nodding. “Sorry bout that.”

"S'fine." You wave him off before remembering something that makes you sit up straight again. "Oh, also, I've been meaning to ask about how your studio is going?”

Suna’s mood and face drop so fast that it’s as if he was never even happy or smiling in the first place—the temperature of the room suddenly icy cold. “Oh.”

"I'm not trying to kick you out, Suna,” you immediately add, reassuring him that, as of now, that's the last thing you’d ever want to do. "I actually like you in my studio... like a lot, I guess, and I don't know, to be honest, I'm scared I'm getting too used to you being there."

"Well, I'm already used to it, so either way, we’re both kinda fucked in that department.”

You can't help but smile so wide it hurts your cheeks, absolutely over the moon that he feels the exact same way. That he’s grown so used to you, like the two of you should have never been apart in the first place, and it was always only a matter of time before you found your way to each other.

"I'm not sure, though. I haven’t heard much,” he continues, interrupting your inner swooning.

"Okay, well, that’s good then,” you say, nodding more to yourself than to him. “No need to get rid of you so soon; who else will annoy me?”

"Weren't you just begging me to stop ignoring you, and now I'm annoying?” he taunts.

You cross your arms, glaring at him. "I was not begging Rintaro Suna.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Shut up," you say through a smile, no hostility anywhere in you. “Oh also! The kids wanted me to tell you about our recital coming up.”

“Yeah? When is it?”

“Week from now. They really want you there.”

Suna tilts his head slightly to the side, his eyes narrowing at you in doubt. “Just them?”

“Just them.”

Suna doesn't believe it for a second, and maybe he would’ve if your voice wasn't so shakey and breathless.

You relent; you never had much resolve when it came to him anyway—that's how he ended up in your studio in the first place, isn't it? “And me too, I guess.”

A blush that he makes look all too good covers his cheeks. "I'd love to go, Y/n.”

“Great!”

Suddenly his face drops, and he’s cursing under his breath, "Shit, wait, actually, we have a tournament that day too.”

"Oh, that's fine! I mean, being in the studio with us, it's like you get a free recital every day, right?” You smile, but even then, it's clear as day how disappointed you are.

"I'm sorry, Y/n. I can still try to make it.”

“No no! It's fine; you won't miss much. You have your own kids stuff to worry about.”

Suna frowns, wanting nothing more than to wipe that dejected look off your face. “Y/n.”

"Suna, it's fine, really." You weakly try to reassure him, but he’s just not budging.

He shakes his head. "I'll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Okay, I'll hold you to it then.”

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The recital came faster than you cared for. You would be excited for this had Suna been able to come, but he couldn't, and now, even though you know he won't be here, you still can't help but peek through the stage curtains, hoping and praying you'll somehow spot him in the crowd. You try to keep your disappointment at bay the whole recital, and surprisingly you do. The recital goes off without a hitch, and the only thing you can wish for is that you were more excited. Your little ones did absolutely amazing and completely blew the crowd away, yet here you are moping around over some dude who, up until a few months ago, you hated.

“They did amazing,” an oddly familiar voice says, breaking you out of your thoughts. "I'm sure it's only because of their teacher... Do you know them? I'm actually looking for them.”

You're flattered, really, but you can't deal with compliments or holding a conversation right now, not when you want to just crawl under your bed covers and never come out. Not to mention that no one else is supposed to be backstage right now. You sigh before turning around to ask them to leave, only to practically jump out of your skin with excitement.

“Suna!” you exclaim happily, running your way toward him and closing some of the gap between you two. “You’re here, but how? Where were you? I looked, and I couldn't find you—wait, I thought? Where's your kids? Shouldn't you be at their tournament?” 

Suna watches you ramble with the softest of faces, huffing a small laugh. He shrugs once you're done. “Samu took over.”

“Rintaro Suna.”

“What? The little shits will get over it… but I don't think you would've if I didn't show up.”

"Well, I would've tried.” You take another step toward him. "Though I can't say you're not a smart man, Rintaro.”

Suna eyes you curiously and follows your movements, taking a step toward you. “So I've been told.”

You roll your eyes, despite an undeniable smile dressing your face, and in some fit of arrogance, you take the last step toward Suna, thus closing any remaining space between the two of you. With your chests touching, there’s nothing left for you to do but wrap your arms around his neck, which you do with ease—as if they were always meant to be there this whole time. He quickly follows your lead, resting his hands on your waist. But his eyebrows are furrowed as if to ask if this is okay, and you nod. This is more than okay—you’d actually prefer more, and it doesn’t seem like he’s getting the hint.

“So are you gonna kiss me, or are you just gonna stand there all day?"

Suna goes wide-eyed, and it takes a minute for his body to catch up with his brain, but before you know it, Suna is practically slamming his face into yours, kissing you like if he doesn't, he’ll die. like you’re the very oxygen Suna has been so desperately searching for all his life—and who's to say he isn't yours as well? Meeting his lips with the same exact urgency, you're sure if anyone else was backstage right now, the two of you would be scolded for years to come. Suna pulls away for air, practically panting; his face is flushed with such a deep red you can still make it out even under the dim lights, and you push strands of his hair out of his face just to revel in his blush some more.

Still struggling to catch his breath, he swallows harshly. “Would it ruin the moment if I told you my studio is finally fixed?”

"Yes, so I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that and keep kissing you instead.”

"Yeah, ok, I like that idea better anyway.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[avianyuh]

I'll call you; Jaehyun

Summary: idolreader x jaehyun.

You and Jaehyun have had a secretive on and off again relationship for a few years. After a nasty fight and assumed break-up, you anticipate he'll be back at your door within a few weeks. When word gets back to you that he's been seeing Winter from aespa, you're angry, confused, but mostly hurt. Is Jaehyun done with you or is there more to the story?

Part one of two.

I closed the door behind me as I entered my dorm. My group mate waved to me and I gave an exhausted greeting back. I was so tired after spending four hours practicing in the dance studio. We've been preparing for the group comeback and I've been having some trouble with the choreography so I decided to practice some more with the instructor alone. To be completely honest, my focus has been off for quite sometime. I've been feeling extra lonely since my fight with Jaehyun. He was never my boyfriend, we both agreed we were both too busy to be in a serious relationship. But we had agreed we were only seeing each other.

That agreement had been made 3 years ago and it worked had been working out pretty well. Whenever we both had free time we'd see each other. But when we were both busy, it was radio silence. Deep down, a part of me hated that. I wished we could've been a bit more committed. But at this point I don't think it matters.

A few days ago, Jaehyun had been over at my dorm. He had spent the night and was packing his things to leave that morning. So there I was laying in my bed in my dorm room staring at him as I watched him pick up his discarded shirt from the night before and put it back on. And I don't know where the confidence came from but I stupidly opened my big fat mouth and asked him if he could stay a little longer.

Now for some context, up until that point like I already said, the 'relationship' was very non-commital, very on again off again, you know...'I'll see you when I see you'.

So when I asked him if he could stick around longer, I swear you could see the gears turning in his head. Him interpreting and thinking about what I had just asked him to do.

For a second, I swear I saw a smile creep onto his face. But like I said, that was only for a second and then his face dropped as he turned to face me, his eyebrows lowering as his face began to look more and more disappointed.

"I thought what we had going on was enough? Now you want more? I mean...what the fuck Y/n? You spring this on me now. What do you expect me to say?", he yelled, venom laced in his voice. I felt the tears well up in my eyes, but I refused to let them fall in front of him. I felt so stupid. To be fair, he told me when we first met that he had commitment issues, but so did I. That's what attracted me to him in the first place, but over time, my feelings changed. I guess his didn't.

"Jaehyun, just forget I said anything. It was just a suggestion", I whispered the last part as I looked down at the floor wishing the soft bed would allow me to sink into the mattress and disappear.

"But now I feel like you want more from me. You know Y/n I just think we need a break for awhile okay, I'm busy with work right now anyways so i'll call you in a few weeks", he said as he grabbed his phone and keys, signaling that he was ready to go.

"I'll let you go but can I just say one thing", I stood up before continuing. He looked at me expectantly. "If you would give me a bit more to work with, I wouldn't have asked in the first place, because I would've known you were busy. I had no idea you were preoccupied with work because you never tell me about any of that. Plus I thought the deal was that we only see each other when we're both not busy?",I finished my rant and crossed my arms over my chest. It was sort of like a checkmate moment, a way to get him back for making me feel like shit moments earlier.

He looked taken aback for a moment before he started speaking again. "Oh, so now you're trying to twist my words. Like I said, I'll call you in a few weeks." And with that he was out of the door.

So that brings me back to present day. It's been a month and I've heard nothing. Either he actually is busy or he's done with me. I hope it's the first possibility and not the ladder.

As I made it to my bedroom, I closed the door behind me and jumped on my bed, glad to be home so I could rest. But just as soon as I started to drift off, I heard a soft knock on my door. I looked up to see my group mate Yura slightly opening my door softly asking if she could come in. I answered 'Of course' as I patted on the spot next to me and sat up.

She sat down and we made small talk for a few minutes, which isn't normally like us to do since we're really close. So I flat out asked her, "What's wrong, you seem like you want to tell me something?", I asked. Honestly I thought maybe I had eaten manager's yogurt or something and our manager was going to send me out to by him a new one, but I could tell that it was something bad since her eyes seemed very worried.

"So...I went to the studio today for a recording session and I ran into some people and uh...we were talking and somebody mentioned Jaehyun.", the moment I heard his name my heart skipped a beat and I subconsciously sat up straighter.

"What about Jaehyun", I questioned.

"Apparently he's seeing someone." Yura said, looking away from me. "Uh, that girl from aespa, there's rumors all over the internet and one of the girls I was talking to said she saw them out together at a cafe."

As she explained the situation to me I could feel my heart sinking. So that's why he hasn't called, he moved on, I thought. Unlike the day of our fight, when I felt the tears well up, I didn't fight them, all I could do was let them fall and let Yura comfort me.

____

A/n: hellooooo, my writers block is gone and btw, HAPPY NEW YEAR BABES. Decided to make a fic for my first post of 2024 since I like these more then reactions.

Two things I wanted to clarify. Okay so I know his name is technically Yunoh, but this is fiction soooo he's Jaehyun in this :)*

And secondly, I am not and never have been a shipper, just in case anyone thinks this as they read. I know there were some 'rumors' regarding frat boy Jeffrey and winter, but 1. I don't believe it, shopping bags are not proof of a relationship lmao and 2. Even if it was true, it's none of my beeswax and I don't really care, everything I write is fictional. I just used her as the 'other woman' trope for my fic since this was about Jaehyun and I thought it would make some good angst. So don't take this too seriously.

I think the next part will be from Jaehyun's point of view since this was a two parter.

Love ya💋💅

[zankydraws]

You got any Wekiddy headcannons? Especially for MJ?

idk if these count as hcs or not but I might have some!

MJ 182: - he's a shapeshifting alien. idk what his true form would be yet but I want to draw it someday, I'd go with some sort of anthro reptile/shark mix probably - a bit of an asshole, likes to cause problems on purpose (his main goal is pissing off El Cool P) - loves pop-punk (bruh MJ makes me wish there was an actual pop-punk version of Incredibox where he's the main character..) - he thinks Xenomorph is a hottie.. (dfkgjhdfks) - I like to think he's a good artist, specifically good at spray painting (and he uses his talent to destroy public property or El Cool P's belongings) - definitely the most rebellious guy in the group - hates to dress up - can and will bite people (mostly Cool P)

El Cool P: - huge ego. absolutely massive - probably commits crimes (loves arson) - idk there's something wrong with him - would do good stuff for people (like giving money to charity) just to make himself feel better and make people love him more - uses his good looks and charm to his advantage - if he wants something, he WILL get it - probably has tons of merch with his own stupid face on it (he owns an El Cool Shirt and an El Cool Plushie for sure) - owns like millions of suits (and matching bucket hats) - argues with MJ all the time - a terrible driver (don't get into a car with him) (how did he even get a driving license?)

KC Glow: - precious baby boy, an absolute angel - looooong sleeves - does the excited flappy hand thing a lot - can actually glow in the dark, somehow - has freckles! - you could probably pick him up and carry him around and he would be chill about it

ASAP Bee: - looks like a cinnamon roll but could kill you - loves bees, they are his best buddies - probably stores bees in his fanny pack - if you hurt/kill a bee, he will beat the shit out of you - seriously don't mess with him and his bee friends - loves bee memes, puns and everything bee related - owns a machine gun (this one is ridiclous but some people call him a machine gun guy and it made me think that it would be funny if he actually owned a gun. so don't mess with his bees unless you want a bullet in your butt) - absolutely loves honey, he's obsessed with it, always carries a bottle/jar of honey around

Big Duke: - looks like a cinnamon roll and is a cinnamon roll - a very chill and nice guy - always ready to help! - I like to think he's a little chubby - short king

Swingy: - works out a lot, he's very fit and pretty strong - I talked about this some time ago but he gives me the 80's fitness instructor vibes so he can probably teach people how to work out properly and dance - kinda stupid but he's very nice! :D - loves food and eats all the time - likes his hair a lot and doesn't want anyone touching it - generally likes to look pretty

Blue GT: - kind of a bitch - has heterochromia (I drew him with different eye colors once and loved the idea a lot lol) - he's sooo tired of hearing MJ and Cool P argue ("just kill each other already") - he just wants to be left alone - wears turtlenecks and rings - has to look fabulous at all times - loves coffee

Memphis: - doesn't want to get in trouble but somehow always ends up getting in trouble because of MJ or Cool P (because they are assholes) (Mephis still likes to spend time with his buddies tho, even if it doesn't always end up being good for him) - his hair is extremely floofy and soft, it's unbelievable - he seems a little shy to me..

and that's all I guess.. I don't really have any headcanons for the other dudes, but I might come up with something someday

[liminalpebble]

Eddie's Education: Chapter 7

Minors DNI

Masterlist link

Chapter 7

Early October descended on Hawkins with a chill in the air as hints of orange and red peeked out from the foliage, promising a riot of color soon. This was Leia's favorite time of year, and it cheered her up to see the grinning faces of more and more jack-o-lanterns popping up on front porches each day she walked past.

The smell of bonfires, the caramelized sugary aroma of toasted marshmallows, and the sharp scent of crisp apples wafted around her as she strode down the lanes and side streets to and from work. It occurred to her that, though she would never drive again, she rather enjoyed the view of the world as one walked. It was slower, more physical, more contemplative. She liked to observe and thought best on her feet while trudging the anxiety out of her muscles.

From the sidewalk she could hear laughter from backyard parties. Costumed keggers and barbecues, football games, farmers' markets, charming haunted houses, and corn mazes made their appearances and she was beginning to feel her old itch for the seasonal fun. She liked these events (well, except for the football games) and had forgot this about herself during her time with Sam. Leia fished through her mind, searching for other joys she had forgotten, finding all kinds of things; horror movies, and dance lessons, and drawing, and museums visits, and comic books. How had she forgotten so much about herself...about who she is and what she wanted?”

Suddenly, in the torrent of recollection, she remembered that she used to love hiking and exploring abandoned buildings. She loved the exhilaration of trudging through the woods, or long abandoned places and had yet to explore the forested or forgotten Indiana trails. She wondered if Eddie liked hiking (or at least getting high in the woods) as much as she did. Down girl, she warned herself, you don't stand a chance with him.

But she really, really, wished she did, and today as her feet traversed the pavement she found herself vacillating in that ever-present argument with herself. Every time she considered that soon Eddie would get his GED and no longer be a student, theoretically allowing her to move closer, something would pipe up from other parts of her mind.

Well what if he wants to come back and get his associate's? Then I might even be his instructor and that would be so so wrong.

What makes you think he would like you anyway? If he did, wouldn't he have made a move already?

The more negative these sentences became, the more they sounded like Sam. She sighed as she thought about her ex. Leia could almost see him adjusting his retro glasses as he looked down his nose at her. She remembered his clipped voice as it said, “How far do you really think you can get here? You'd have a better chance in Hawkins, anyway. Compared to the locals you'd seem like an intellectual giant. It'd be easy.”

She'd said, “Sam! That's a fucked up thing to say! Just because it's a small town doesn't mean everyone's a hillbilly and an idiot...and what do you mean 'seem'.” She crossed her arms and frowned.

He ran an agitated hand through his pretty mop of glossy red hair, as if her words were flies he could shoo off with flicks of his fingers. He was always vain about his rare hair, and his striking green eyes, and his delicate elvish features, but pretended very hard not to be. “Come on, Leia. It's not my job to bolster your fragile ego. We both know you're not stupid, but you're not Einstein. Don't give me that look! We need to be mature about critiques. We have a more evolved relationship than these people who throw flowers and candy at each other and pretend like the other person is some kind of god or goddess. Relentless honesty is best, even when it hurts,” he declared proudly, flipping pages as he talked to her, not even bothering to meet her eyes. She couldn't help but notice how this constant nitpicking only ever seemed to go one way in their relationship.

“Save it for your paper on Hemingway, or when you're jerking off to Bukowski or some other dead pretentious asshole,” she said in a tone teetering between playful sarcasm and genuine anger.

“Ouch...jealous, are we?” he'd asked with a disarming smile, as if it had all been a joke she was just a bit too dim to see the humor in. Sam Huxley had convinced her that she had no right to be hurt, so she pretended not to be and laughed it off with him. Being with Sam had taught her keep the pain to herself and nurse the wounds he inflicted in silence, to not show weakness or need. He praised her practiced stoic nonchalance after he would mercilessly pull apart her thesis, or her body, or her hobbies, or her tastes. It was the only time he ever praised her. She mastered this controlled response, eventually training herself to stop feeling anything about it at all, or having any preferences, because his came first. And she hardly came at all. Her family just thought he was “making her stronger” and liked him for it. They recognized their own impossible expectations for her in his, so it felt right and reinforced their every belief.

When he'd suddenly broken up with her and told her he was staying in Chicago, with no preamble or warning, she cried in front of him for the first time. He responded angrily, snipping out, “Why do you have to cause a scene and try to make me feel bad, as if I've done something wrong? If a man wants to be great he cannot be weighed down by these foolish traditional constructs. I have so much further to go still, Leia. I know you're smart enough to see that, right? I can't waste my potential with you hanging on my arm.”

She had only nodded. Sniffing her tears away brusquely, she immediately began packing. As she sorted the accumulated evidence of her life over the last 5 years, it felt as if she was packing someone else's things. Leia wasn't sure who this person was. There were only meager scraps of evidence among her belongings indicating what she actually liked and wanted in life; long-unworn dance shoes, an abandoned sketchbook, snapshots from forest hikes...things that were a part of who she was before Sam remade her, Pygmalion-style into what he could tolerate...but apparently couldn't anymore.

Those things were so few, so small, and buried like corpses in the bottom of her drawers. Here lies my dead ambitions, she thought with a smirk through her tears. In the collection she discovered an antique photograph of her great-aunt and namesake; the original Violetta Vespero. Her dark eyes burned like coals as she stood in a black halo of thick hair, rebellion blazing and coloring her expression even through the drab grayscale. She had been a suffragette, an Italian aristocrat turned fiercely independent and decidedly socialist. She never wanted children and never had them, insisting on a scholarly career in a world of people telling her she couldn't. Leia sighed, wishing she believed in some kind of spirituality, wishing she could call upon her like a patron saint of feminism to help her through this.

What would she think of me? A weak woman who did whatever a man said for 5 years and then was thrown out like an old pair of shoes? She'd probably be disappointed, just like everyone else in this family.

By May, she found herself standing in her empty new apartment in Hawkins with just a few moving boxes, packed with the little pieces of herself, to keep her company. She let out a long sigh, staring at the empty room. Digging out the photograph of Violetta she whispered to it, “blank slate,”as she placed it reverently on the table.

----

Eddie walked down the basement hall of Hawkins community college coming from his science class, when he heard a familiar low sweet voice reading aloud. He felt a little jolt of giddiness when he realized this must be her English class. He'd never seen her teaching in her element before so he risked peeking in, hoping he wouldn't disturb her.

The lights were out except for some fake candles on the floor with paper decorations around it to make it resemble a campfire. All the students were sitting cross-legged around it. Eddie would think that these adults would be rebellious and resistant, or at least take a nap in the darkness, but in the dim light he could see all eyes were on her as she read with a flashlight. He grinned so hard his cheeks hurt. It was amazing that she could do this; convince grown-ups to enjoy ghost stories by the campfire like little kids, determined to make it a game.

Legs crossed and pumps discarded behind her, she read from The Haunting of Hill House, by Shirley Jackson:

Eleanor looked up, surprised; the little girl was sliding back in her chair, sullenly refusing her milk, while her father frowned and her brother giggled and her mother said calmly, 'She wants her cup of stars.' Indeed yes, Eleanor thought; indeed, so do I; a cup of stars, of course. 'Her little cup,' the mother was explaining, smiling apologetically at the waitress, who was thunderstruck at the thought that the mill's good country milk was not rich enough for the little girl. 'It has stars in the bottom, and she always drinks her milk from it at home. She calls it her cup of stars because she can see the stars while she drinks her milk.' The waitress nodded, unconvinced, and the mother told the little girl, 'You'll have your milk from your cup of stars tonight when we get home. But just for now, just to be a very good little girl, will you take a little milk from this glass?' Don't do it, Eleanor told the little girl; insist on your cup of stars; once they have trapped you into being like everyone else you will never see your cup of stars again; don't do it; and the little girl glanced at her, and smiled a little subtle, dimpling, wholly comprehending smile, and shook her head stubbornly at the glass. Brave girl, Eleanor thought; wise, brave girl.”

Leia closed the book, marking her page, and passed the reading flashlight to the student next to her saying, “Okay, before we read further, what do you think this means?”

Hands went up, and she picked one. “I think...I think it's about not letting people walk all over you and saying what you want. Like Eleanor was shit on her whole life, you know, and now she's finally putting her foot down and doing what she wants.”

“Great interpretation, Frank. Thank you. Anyone else have thoughts about that?”

Eddie watched, smitten, warm eyes full of pride and admiration. In the darkness she hadn't seen him, which he was glad for, sliding back out as quietly as he had peeked in.

Yeah, Leia, don't let them take your cup of stars, Eddie thought as he walked on. You deserve the whole sky, sweetheart.

@sunflowerdaydreamer

[khodorkovskaya]

29.12.22

sooo i had the driving lesson this morning and uhhh... i don't know if it went well or not.

at the beginning i was super confident and then... the instructor stopped me and gave his verdict. basically everything im doing is wrong. the way i hold the steering wheel is wrong, i brake too late and, most importantly, i don't ever do the RTI. and i was like huh what is the RTI? apparently it's the number one thing they check for during the exam: you have to look (1) in the rearview mirror, (2) in the side mirror and (3) turn your head before you do anything. you have to do the three things in order every time. and i didn't know that... 😅 i only look in the side mirror and turn my head if i have to switch lanes and that's it. but you have to do it very often.

it makes sense why i feel like i never understand where im going when im behind the wheel. because i only look ahead. and no one ever told me that i have to look around too. and it's so stupid now that i say it. like duhh you have to look around while driving. but i never did bc i never thought about it.

when i went driving with B it was only when my stepdad asked me if my rearview mirror was adjusted that i realised that i could look in the rearview mirror... i drove around for weeks without ever looking in the rearview mirror...... and now it's the same thing. i drove around without ever looking around myself and didn't know i was supposed to do that...

so yeah the instructor said that he doesn't understand how i thought that i was fit to do the exam. he said i don't even have the basics and all i need to do now is do figure eights around the parking lot. he said i need 40 to 50 more hours of lessons before going to the exam. the problem is i only have my student license until april and if i fail i will have to redo theory all over again. and i can't afford driving lessons with an instructor.

so my first instinct was to give up on driving all together. this whole experience has been so painful and i have no idea how everyone does it! everyone ive met had passed their license on the first try and learned to drive in only a couple of weeks! meanwhile ive struggled so much with basically no progress. ive had my student license since summer of 2020 and im still at the level of doing figure eights at a parking lot. like idk i think im just r-word. like i just can't comprehend how people can balance so many things and look left and right and look at the road and read road signs and push pedals and switch gears and steer and quickly react to things all at the same time. like im not stupid, right? but why can everyone drive and i find it impossibly difficult?

in conclusion, my stepdad and i decided it would be best for me to go to therapy bc i have issues i need to resolve to be able to learn how to drive and not struggle so much. maybe im traumatised from driving with B. maybe it's my adhd. who knows. i haven't decided yet but im gonna do either cbt or nlp therapy to help me overcome my mental blocks. bc the struggle is real.

like idk. when i drove for the very first time when i didn't even have my student license, my stepdad told me that i was quite gifted and he was pleasantly surprised. i understood things quickly and progressed very well in a short amount of time. and then i started driving with B. and it all went downhill from there. and ever since i started driving with my stepdad again it's been catastrophic. i cry every time im in the car, i can't concentrate etc etc. and i don't even remember driving with B that much tbh. plus he had a manual! i have no idea how i managed to drive a manual! i remember just wishing for it all to be over and dissociating and crying. and i think that really fucked me up.

so yeah, i have until april to do the exam and i'll try my best and go to therapy to see what's up with this whole driving thing. and if i don't pass the exam then whatever, i'll try again in a couple of years when i'll be better in the head. hopefully.

[folklorelise]

That one time the kids called you “mom”

HC / OS (i don’t know) about that one time the kids called you “mom” and that one-time Jean called Captain Levi “dad” (not related with the “being a mom to the survey corps” -- you’re a squad leader in this).

 -          Armin

Armin was a smart kid and he loved spending time at the survey corps library. Armin grew up with his grandfather and he had to work very hard to provide enough food for the both of them. When Armin’s grandfather died, he was still a kid. When they all joined the survey corps, Armin instantly loved you – you would always be in the library, reading different books every week. He obviously wanted to come to you and talk about books with you, but that boy was too shy. You were a squad leader which meant that you were his superior officer.

You would notice Armin of course. He would always read and study strategies sitting in front of you. Sometimes he would open his mouth, thinking ‘today I’ll talk to her’ but he never did. Once you decided that you would start the conversation, but as soon as you put your book down, Armin ran away. After that, you told Levi, your boyfriend, what happened earlier.

“I think he’s scared of me.” You admitted.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Why did he run away then?”

“Maybe he needed to take a sh!t. Like really needed to so he ran away.”

Meanwhile in Armin’s bedroom, with Eren and Mikasa.

“Why did you do that?” Mikasa asked.

“I don’t know!” Armin inquired, “I’m so embarrassed right now.”

“That was a weird move.” Eren admitted, “Next time just say something, anything really.”

That very next day, Armin was determined to tell you how much he wanted to discuss books with you. He saw you at your usual place and he took his. He repeated his sentence over and over, ‘squad leader Y/N I’ve seen you here multiple times and I’d like to discuss books together.’ But before he could say anything, you started to talk.

“Why did you run off yesterday?” you asked.

“Books.” Armin shouted which only startled you a little, “I like books and you do too.”

“I do like to read.”

After that, Armin was more and more comfortable around you. You would always read together before an expedition or after an intense training day – it became your little tradition.

A few weeks later, Armin wanted to talk to you as soon as possible. He has read a book that he knew you would like, and he needed to tell you about it. He was eating with his friends and when he saw you and Captain Levi entering the mess hall, he shouted “MOM! I-“and stopped immediately after.

Everyone was staring at him and all Armin wanted at this moment was to be eaten by a titan. You on the other side were just smiling widely at Armin.

“You look like a creep, stop smiling.” Levi told you.

After dinner, you went to the library and found Armin sitting at your usual table, arms crossed on the table with his head on his arms.

“Armin, hey. How are you feeling?”

“Embarrassed. I – I don’t know why I called you that.”

“It’s fine, you don’t have to worry about it.” you reassured him.

“But I embarrassed you too!”

“Who said you did?”

“Everyone was laughing.” Armin guessed.

Then, you spend your night like you always do which is reading together until Levi came to bring you back to bed.

“Good night Armin.” Levi told him before leaving.

“Good night Captain, squad leader.”

“Good night… son.” you finished before joining Levi, laughing slightly.

 —————

-          Eren

Eren was outside with all the others resting after training with Levi. They were discussing their skills after Levi made them do hand to hand combat to know who could have a day off from cleaning duties (it was your idea – Levi would never give a day off for cleaning).

“I am obviously the best here.” Jean acknowledged.

“Mikasa won against you!” Eren screamed back.

“Yeah, but I’m talking about us. Today, I won!” Jean replied.

“That’s because I was too tired from the titan experiments!”

“Riight. You are a titan. You shouldn’t even be tired!”

“Yeah because you know everything!” Eren shouted even louder.

Both were ready to fight, but they were expecting their friends to stop them, but they were just talking between them, ignoring their little dispute. Both of them just stared at each other, waiting for something to happen or someone but nothing – so they just stared at each other awkwardly. Eren spotted you not too far away and screamed at the top of his lungs:

“MOM! WE NEED YOUR HELP!”

You were taking a walk with Levi as one of your rituals with him since during daytime, you could hardly see each other. You both looked at Eren surprised but still walked towards him and his friends.

“Yes? What did you need me for?”

“Eren said he was better than me at hand-to-hand combat which is obviously not true.” Jean explained.

“You agree with me, right?” Eren said to you.

“Hm…” you turned to Levi expecting help, but he just had a smirk on his face, waiting for you answer too. “Well… I mean…” you paused each time a word was said, “I just want to say that I love you guys but it’s late and I’m tired,” you tried to avoid the topic of the conversation. “Levi, let’s leave the kids.”

“But m-“ Eren suddenly stopped his sentence and thought ‘wait, did I just almost called squad leader Y/N mom? Did I call her mom earlier?’

“What’s wrong Eren?” Mikasa asked.

“Nothing, squad leader Y/N,” Eren insisted on these words heavily, “is right, it’s late, let’s all go to sleep.” Eren then run to his bedroom.

“Such a weirdo.” Levi stated before walking away with you.

In the middle of the night, Eren was still awake thinking about what he said. He was moving loudly, and Armin woke up very annoyed.

“Eren stop moving so energetically!”

“I’m not.” Eren mumbled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Did I call squad leader… you know.”

“Did you do an Armin? Yes. You call her mom. Welcome to the club! Now sleep.”

 —————

-          Mikasa

Mikasa was hanging with Eren and Armin outside after dinner. Eren and Armin were frenetically about Eren’s next prank on Jean.

“You always prepare something either too dangerous or just normal dangerous. Jean could get hurt!” Armin protested.

“That’s the idea I was going for. Plus, it’s not that dangerous.”

“You want to push him off the wall!”

“Yeah, but he has his gear on and we’ll just all laugh at this anyway. Right Mikasa?” Eren asked her friend.

“Jean could die if he doesn’t use his gear.” Mikasa observed.

“He’s not that stupid.” Eren replied.

“Ask mom then and look at her being disappointed by you.” Mikasa told them.

They both turned their head towards Mikasa and glared at her, with a shocked look.

“What?”

“You just called squad leader Y/N ‘mom’” Eren burst out laughing.

“No, I didn’t. I said mom… as in…” Mikasa tried to correct herself.

“Yeah right, what other mom you possibly could be talking about?” Eren pointed out.

“It’s because you two keep calling her that! And I just forgot her name and…” Mikasa defended herself, “It’s your fault!”

“It’s fine, that makes the three of us in the club!” Armin shouted.

 —————

-          Historia

Everyone just discovered that Historia was the rightful heir to the throne, and no one knew what to do.

“Fine. Then run.” Levi said taking Historia by her blouse collar.

“Oh my, Levi!” you screamed rushing towards Historia. “Let her go!”

Levi let her go and left. You took Historia in your arms as she was ready to collapse on the ground.

“Are you okay sweetie?” you questioned her worried. She just held you close and thanked you. “Levi didn’t mean it. I’m going to ask to apologise.”

“It’s fine. He’s right. I should do something about this.” Historia waited a few minutes before saying “thanks mom,” blushing.

Everyone else wanted to throw a comment but no one dared after seeing you glaring at them. Only Armin whispered “welcome to the club” for himself.

 —————

 -          Annie

Instructor Shadis sent you a letter asking you a favour. He was feeling ill and asked you to substitute him while he recovers. You obviously agreed to it. You were surprised at how Annie was at hand-to-hand combat.

“Who taught you that?” you asked marvelled by her technique.

“My father.”

“Well good job!”

The whole time you were here you would constantly compliment her. You would really compliment everyone on their asset.

One night, Annie was outside with Reiner and Bertolt, talking together.

“I like squad leader Y/N, she is nice.” Reiner said in a moment of silence.

“Or she could just pretend to be nice so we wouldn’t try so hard when she’s here and that’s how we fail.” Annie pointed out.

“She’s not like that.” Bertolt insisted, “She seems genuinely nice. Never felt that supported in such a long time.”

“Yeah.” Reiner agreed.

Annie did not want to say it, but she agreed with them. You were always so supportive, always encouraging people do to better. Always telling them that they did a great job when they messed up. Annie wanted to add something, but she heard footsteps and she turned around ready to fight but it was only you.

“Mom! I was ready to fight you.” Annie yelled.

“What did you just call squad leader Y/N?” Reiner asked surprised.

“I– I said mam.”

“No, you said mom.” Reined laughed.

“NO! I said mam as in sir but for a woman!”

“I just wanted to make sure you guys were alright,” you admitted, “it’s late and I don’t want you guys to be tired since I know how instructor Shadis can be.”

“Instructor Shadis?” Bertolt asked.

“Yes, he’s feeling much better and he’s coming back tomorrow. I also came to say goodbye since I’m leaving tonight. I wish you luck and I know you guys are going to be amazing!” you end your little speech with a hug to each one of them. “I’ll probably see you around if you ever decide to join the survey corps.”

Annie was right, she was going to miss you.

 —————

-          Sasha

Sasha was a great kid, a great fighter but more importantly, she was a food lover. She never had enough food at lunch or dinner. She would always ask her friend for their bread or a piece of their meat when they did eat meat.

Once, Sasha was late to dinner because she had cleaning duties and she was a slow cleaner which made her late. Being late meant no food too but she still came to the kitchen hoping for leftovers – there were none. She went to the mess hall and collapse on the table. She heard a person sat down in front of her but did not move.

“You should eat Sasha.” she heard.

“No food.”

“Look up.”

She did and there was a tray with a bowl of soup that was still hot and two pieces of bread. She gasped and started to cry tears of joy.

“Thank you, mom! I was so hungry!” Sasha thanked you with her mouth full of a mix of soup and bread.

“You’re welcome, next time you can come to me and I’ll help you clean alright?” you told her.

You waited for her to be finished before going back to your bedroom. In the middle of that night, Sasha suddenly woke up, panting.

“What’s wrong?” Mikasa asked ready to fight an intruder.

“Nooo. I’m in the club now too.” Sasha realised.

“What? You called squad leader Y/N mom too?” Mikasa joked.

“Yeah…”

 —————

 -          Jean

Jean had cleaning duties in the equipment area. He and Connie were talking and being careless as usual when they were cleaning. So careless that Jean somehow caused a shelf full of heavy books to fall on his leg.

When Connie explained to you what happened you rushed to where Jean was. You and Connie helped Jean out and took him to the infirmary. Jean was now on bed rest for at least a week since he could not move his right leg anymore.

“How am I going to live now?” Jean complained after hearing the news.

“I’m taking care of you until further notice.” you reassured him.

Levi decided that Jean would still be attending training even if that meant only watching. After two weeks, Jean was still hurt – according to him anyway. Which the nurse found weird because that type of injury did not last long if he was resting correctly which is something you made sur of. Levi told you that it was suspicious, but you believed Jean.

“Your love for this kid is making you blind! Jean is obviously fine now!” Levi told you desperately every night.

“He’ll get better, if he’s still hurt and he goes back training then he might not be able to fight at all.” you explained.

You should have believed Levi because one day, you were stuck in a meeting with Commander Erwin which meant you couldn’t stay with the cadets training. Thankfully, the meeting ended sooner than you thought so you went to see the kids, only to find Jean perfectly healthy, on his feet, fighting Eren.

“JEAN KIRSTEIN YOU SON OF A B–“ you yelled.

“NO!” Jean screamed collapsing to the ground dramatically, “It’s not what you think mom! NO!” Jean put his hands on his mouth.

“Oouh Jean called squad leader Y/N ‘mom’” Eren chanted.

“Now that they almost all called you mom,” Hange stated coming out of nowhere, “does that mean Levi is their daddy?”

 —————

-          That one-time Jean called Captain Levi ‘dad’

It was during one of the expeditions outside. You brought tents and prepared them but none of you wanted to sleep yet. You built a fire, and all sat around it. The cadets took turn telling horror stories and once Jean was done, you all applauded him.

“That was great.” Levi complimented him.

“Thanks, daaa–ptain!” Jean corrected himself hallway through his sentence.

Everyone burst out laughing and Jean was blushing hard, while Levi was only smirking drinking his tea.

“Jean, it’s official, you’re their kid now.” Hange kept laughing.

“I’m so embarrassed.” Jean grunted, “I’m sorry d– captain! What is wrong with me!”  

 —————

From then on, they wouldn’t even hide the fact that they all called you mom from time to time. At one point, new recruits thought that it was you name so some of them would call you “squad leader mom”.

MASTERLIST

[mitsukui]

put your lips like this | f.w.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader.

Summary: there is a secret buried inside your heart that is keeping you from going to the Yule Ball. However, Fred decides to be the greatest of friends and  teach you one thing or two.

Word Count: 2.1k - oops...

Warnings: none! Just a whole lot of fluff! ✨ Oh, there is a curse word towards the ending.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: HAPPY HOLIDAYS, BABIES! *aggressively listens to ‘My Boo’, by Usher and Alicia Keys*. Not to be dramatic, but James Phelps with long hair could punch me right in the face, and I would thank him. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention!  ♡

Masterlist!

“You know I’m good at keeping secrets, so just tell me already! C’mon, tell me why you don’t want to go to the Yule Ball.”

A heavy and utterly annoyed sigh left your lips. Fred Weasley – that prick! – had been tormenting you the entire day. You knew he was a curious soul, but you had never imagined he would try so hard to make you spill one of your secrets out.

It was not something you fancied sharing; actually, it was something that made you feel rather pathetic and embarrassed. How could you tell your friend, whom you had unexpectedly developed feelings for, that you had never been kissed?

Curiosity and anticipation were emanating from his figure as he whispered soft ‘tell me’s, and moved anxiously on his chair. You fidgeted with the quill in your hand before you sighed once more. It did not seem like he was going to give up on solving that mystery any time soon. “Alright, fine. I will tell you. But only if you promise you will act as if nothing had ever happened.”

“Pinky promise!” He immediately dropped his own quill and extended his right hand towards you, his little finger waiting up to be intertwined with yours. Your eyes studied his hand, and you did not fail to notice how big and veiny they were.

Oh, Godric, the voice that took form of your consciousness echoed in your head, this boy is going to be the death of me.

Reluctantly, you closed your textbook and put your quill down on the wooden table, these two actions being followed by the connection between your fingers. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek, the similarity to a little boy that he carried in his behavior causing you to chuckle. However, your good spirits soon vanished away when you came to the realization you now had to tell him the truth. You had never been good at lying, for all it mattered.

He beamed widely at you, and he had his ears ready to capture all the words that were about to slip from your lips. But nothing was coming out of them, and a slight impatience resulted in his eyebrows being furrowed together. Fred went back to whispering words to hurry you into opening up, and the situation just overwhelmed your inexperienced heart.

It was all too much: you could not bear with the fact that he was staring so intensely at you, nor with the fact that you were about to tell him you saw yourself as a ridiculously stupid teenager who had never felt a pair of lips brushing against their own.

“I don’t really know how to do the whole…kissing thing. And I refuse to go to the Yule Ball because of it, given that chances of being kissed by your date are high.”

Your confession came out as a train losing its track – fast, unruly and through gritted teeth. Although you were deeply ashamed of that part of you, his face expressed the total opposite of any of your feelings.

His eyebrows were still furrowed together, but now scoff dripped from his words. “Yeah, right. And George is more handsome than me.”

You could swear your heart skipped a beat at that moment. Blinking in the rawest surprise your body could internally gather, you stared at him and waited for him to say anything else. You were lost for words. How could he not believe you?

“I mean, you’re incredibly beautiful. And I know you have a few people interested in you.” When you raised an eyebrow at his latter words, he was quick to snap back at you. “I’ve noticed how that Ravenclaw boy looks at you.”

Even though there was an inconspicuous blush tainting your face due to his compliments, you waved his words off and laughed shyly. He probably was just acting nice towards you. That was a huge characteristic of the Weasley family – being raised by an amazing woman like Molly herself made such a thing come out naturally.

You remained quiet for a few moments, your heart beating fast in your chest and your eyes staring out the library windows. You still had a hard time believing you had just confessed your deepest secret to your love interest, but it was of no use crying over spilt milk. If he were one to keep his promises, one of your rare studying sessions with Fred Weasley would soon return to normal.

But what if he started pitying you for it? Or what if he stopped talking to you, once he concluded your universes did not collide? He surely was vastly experienced when it came down to kissing. Kissing Fred Weasley would probably be the biggest honor of your life.

Unconsciously, your eyes left the windows and roamed the surroundings until they reached his lips. It was almost as if the whole world had stopped.

Fred had thin lips, but they seemed to be astonishingly soft for someone who caused as much trouble as he did. His upper lip was subtly curved, and you were mesmerized by every single little detail you could visually grasp. That moment would haunt your thoughts for a long time, once it was pure cruelty how you had fallen out of love – the one you loved did not love you back.

But you were terribly wrong about that. Fred had been experiencing some shifts on his feelings towards you lately. He had watched you blossom into a charming young girl, and there was something about you hitting hard on his heart. And, frankly speaking, after he caught you looking at his lips, he would be in heaven if he ever got the chance to kiss you.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He helped you gather all of your belongings with a gentle smile hanging on his lips and, once more, you swore your heart was melting away over everything he did.

As you walked out of the library together, dipped in a somewhat agonizing silence, you felt his fingers brushing against yours, which caused you to instantly look at him. “Can I hold your hand while we walk?”

Holy moly, what did he just say? Your consciousness was again alarmed at the scenario taking place right in front of your eyes. Okay. Keep calm. Don’t freak out.

“Y-Yeah, I guess.”

He did not waste any time on ending the ridiculously small distance between your hands. However, he did not simply hold your hand in his; he intertwined your fingers together, and gave your hand a light squeeze. His eyes fell upon you, and his gorgeous smile grew wider. You could not help but smile along.

You continued on walking together in silence, the only tangible thing between you and Fred being the tiny circles his thumb drew on your skin. If it were possible to describe your feelings, one would choose the talk about fireworks, or waves violently crashing on rocks on a breathtaking beach.

He unquestionably would be the death of you.

He tugged on your hand once you stopped in a deserted hallway. There was something astounding about the fact that he was able to find a calm and quiet place on Hogwarts, but he had always been like a box full of surprises to you. And he was also really good at knowing all the best places in the castle.

You smiled at him, the riddle he was presenting filling your chest with amusement. “What are we doing here?” All of the terrors you felt earlier returned to you, and you felt like withdrawing. “Wait. We are not here so you can lecture me on kissing, right?! Because, if we are, I would very much like to lea-“

Fred abruptly shushed you, stepping closer to your body and gently pushing your back against a wall. His eyes darted up and down your face, and he grinned cunningly down at you. He was so much taller than you, and the sight of him towering over you was quite intimidating.

“I’m gonna be your kissing instructor.”

Bitch, said what?! Your eyes widened in shock, his fingers reached out to place a lock of hair behind your ear, and your biggest wish was to evaporate. With your head shaking vigorously, and your lips being pressed together in a disappearing line, you exclaimed you would never accept that.

You could never allow physical intimacy to destroy your friendship with Fred Weasley. It was better to have him as a friend than not having him at all.

He found your actions to be absolutely adorable, the desire to consume your innocence growing bigger and bigger each second. “I’m only trying to help you out, y’know. If that Ravenclaw boy is not willing to claim these luscious lips, I sure am.”

Your cheeks erupted in a dark red shade, and you looked away from him, unable to take it for any longer. He was now evidently playing with your feelings, and you did not know how to deal with his attitude.

You were torn apart between accepting his kiss and pushing him away. It could go two ways: you would either kiss him and dismiss all of your feelings and expectations, or you would fall even harder for him. You were not exactly leaning towards neither option.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while now.” He murmured his confession as he briefly dodged his eyes from your face as well. It was unusual to see the great Fred Weasley embarrassed but, apparently, it was happening right in your face. “So, please, let me be your first kiss. I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Your gaze moved back to him and he also had a light pink flush on his cheeks. He looked painfully handsome at that moment, with his freckles splattered all over his skin, and his lips trembling slightly. Your eyes met, and both of you smiled timidly. You were swooning.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He repeated your monosyllabic answer and nodded a bit, mostly to himself, assuring he would finally feel his lips on his. “I’m gonna put my hands on your hips now.”

And he did. Both of his hands ghosted over your body until they reached your hips. He pulled you a little bit closer to his chest, and his scent tickled your nose. You felt like electrical waves were rushing through your entire body, and you wondered how you had managed not to faint.

“Look, do what I’m doing.” Fred parted his lips slightly and tilted his head to his left side a bit, his eyelashes fluttering until he finally closed his eyes. He looked heavenly, but you could never admit that and put yourself into an even more vulnerable position.

An almost inaudible snicker rang in his ears, and he soon opened his eyes and looked at you. You confessed he looked quite silly like that, but he ignored your comment and ordered you to mimic him again. His voice was low and his warm breath hit your face gently. You finally obeyed, feeling all jittery and anxious.

You looked captivating in his eyes, and he was ready to show you how amazing a tad of intimacy could be.

He leaned down, bringing your lips together in an extremely slow brush against each other. “Put your lips like this.” And, a second time, you did as he told you to, copying all of his actions.

It did not take long for him to finally involve your uneasy lips with his own. He started out by giving small pecks onto your skin, but his hunger got too big and he demanded more.

Your small silhouette was pressed even harder to his body, and he touched your lower lip with his tongue, asking for permission to feel more of you. Your attempts to continue moving according to him went on, and you thought it was a good sign he had not stopped you yet.

Once the velvet-feeling of his tongue came in touch with yours, he groaned against your lips, which caused you to use both of your hands to hold onto his robes tightly.

The kiss went on for a few more moments until you and Fred were breathless, and you had to break away to learn how to cope with oxygen again.

It was difficult to find words to talk about whatever had just happened, but you mumbled a shy ‘thank you’, which he replied to with ‘don’t mention it’.

Kissing was not as horrible as you thought it would be. 

And, after all, maybe going to the Yule Ball could be quite nice if you had enough luck to get Fred Weasley to be your date and kiss you again.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 6

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language, brief violence, and a line that hints at past physical abuse (depending on how you choose to interpret it) Warnings: Mild TW for implied/referenced abuse Notes: Okay so this was supposed to be somewhat therapeutic? But it ended up taking longer to get to that part than I intended, so... Don't worry though, next chapter will be fluffy and also involve more, like, actual Daniela scenes. Previous Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2 Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco

Chapter 6: Elegy

(Elegy: A piece of music in the form of a lament)

When you dream, you do not dream of being locked in a tower, awaiting a kindly knight to come save you. When you dream… you dream of your old home, infested with monsters, nearly unrecognizable. Of being forced to flee, leaving everything you loved behind. Of escaping to a remote, quaint little village, only to end up trapped once again, as friendly faces morph into gaping maws and fangs dripping red. When you dream, it is less a nightmare, more memories retouched, covered in a fresh coat of paint.

Waking up is but a brief source of comfort. One hand goes to your head, rubbing gently, as if you could wipe away all traces of your past. A quick glance around your shared room leaves you confused, but serves as a welcome distraction. Though there are six beds in the room, yours is the only occupied one, the others having all been vacated and made presentable. The only explanation that fit with what you knew was that everyone had gotten up, and gotten to work, without waking you. Panic filled you as you connected the dots, knowing that missing work was a death sentence.

Rushing, you rise to your feet, throwing your dresser open to search for fresh clothes. While the castle’s staff was almost entirely female, the Dimitrescu family didn’t enforce traditional gender presentation, allowing maidens to choose whether to wear a dress or a button-up and trousers. Remembering the wound on your neck, you pause, glancing in the dorm’s singular mirror to inspect your injury. Most of the blood had rubbed off in your sleep (and would likely be a nightmare to clean from the sheets). There were, however, a few spots where dried blood mingled with the protective scab. Considering how late you already were, you didn’t believe you would have time to clean up.

As much as you hated the thought, the best you could do was go for a button-up, hoping the collar would hide the worst of your disastrous appearance. Your hair was another matter entirely, far messier than it normally was, and you struggled to brush/comb it enough to be mildly presentable. Good thing Daniela won’t see me today, you think, remembering her insistence on skipping today’s lesson.

Then you remember the rest of your conversation with her; the yelling, being dragged to your feet, and the pain in her eyes. For a moment you feel woozy, pausing in the middle of buttoning your shirt. Your eyes focus on a spot on the now-closed dresser… and suddenly you wish you had paid more attention when you first woke up. There’s a note stuck to the furniture, clearly addressed to you.

Heard you had some trouble yesterday. We’re just glad you’re alive! A certain someone has been a lot nicer since you started playing the piano, and we’re grateful. To show that, we decided to split your morning duties among ourselves, so you can sleep in. If you’re reading this, then it’s still before 4 AM. Feel free to just relax for a while, or even get some more sleep! We’ll be by to make sure you’re up eventually.

Sincerely,

Daphne, Rosalia, Ygritte, Alexandra, Juniper, and Riley

“I… have… freetime?” You mumbled, still a little drowsy, but now also shocked. This was a complete first for you. Maybe even a first among the servants! Sure, you had been given breaks before, but having a couple hours to do whatever you wanted? No one had ever pulled strings like this for you before. It made your chest feel warm, and you just about forgot the whole mess with Daniela. “I’ll have to find a way to pay them back, even if they think they’re paying me back.” With that said you relaxed a little, no longer rushing getting dressed, though still leaving your neck the way it was. You figured you’d stop by one of the maidens’ restrooms before you officially started your shift.

In the meantime, you knew exactly what you’d be using this time for: finding those damn piano books you had been promised!

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“Let’s see… dust, more dust, a dead spider, even more dust, and- oh shit, the spider is not dead,” you said, barely holding in a yelp as the arachnid scurries away from you. If you had known the attic would be so unclean, you might not have bothered to come up here. So far your targets had alluded you without giving so much as a hint towards their location. The library had seemed a likely location, but you had heard Daniela’s voice within, and anxiety had sent you dashing away. Up here, in an area clearly used for storage above all else, was the next best guess, as far as you were concerned. Still, you hadn’t seen anything worth your time yet.

Just insects, really. Not even terribly interesting ones. Well, there had been a shiny beetle of some sort, but it had crawled into a crack in the wall mere seconds after you saw it. Other than that, though, nothing but creepy crawlies. Creepy flyers?... Both, for sure. One fly in particular kept buzzing around you, weirdly interested in what you were doing.

Somehow you didn’t understand what that meant until a firm hand had wrapped itself around your neck. The grip was tight, putting more than enough pressure to make your vision blur. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately, the culprit didn’t intend to just choke you out. Instead they lift you and toss you aside- casually, at that. You hit the wall with a terrible crashing sound, certain to leave bruises, and narrowly avoid toppling into a stack of heavy crates. So much for enjoying some free time, you think. Stunned for several seconds, you find yourself left helpless as your attacker approaches.

“You’re not allowed to be up here,” a voice snarled, familiar enough to leave you terrified. Of course you had to run into the most violent of the Dimitrescu sisters. “Looking for a way out, hmm? Or are you stupid enough to think we’d leave a weapon where a wretched thing like you could find it?” Cassandra asked, pausing only to send a swift kick your way. A grunt escapes you, leaves you coughing, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as hitting the wall. Despite wanting to curl up and give in, you tried to drag yourself to your feet. Surprisingly, Cassandra makes no move to stop you, perhaps enjoying the sight of you struggling.

“Lady… Daniela… gave me permission,” you said between painful breaths. By the time you’re back on your feet, the vampire before you is watching you with narrowed, albeit curious, eyes. Normally it would take a lot of courage to face her. But you’re exhausted, in pain, and you’ve taken nearly as much hurt from someone who called themselves your lover. It’s not brave to stare down Cassandra, it’s foolhardy. It’s idiotic, really, and yet you find yourself unable to care. “I’m just looking for a couple piano books I’ve been told about, so I can use them to help teach Lady Daniela.”

“Oh? You’re her instructor?” Cassandra asked, a strange smile overtaking her expression. Something in the atmosphere has shifted, dangerously, but you can’t figure out why. Clueless to your self-betrayal, you nod in response. Instantly Cassandra’s smile turns into an open-lipped snarl, and she reaches out to grab you by the shirt, this time slamming you into the wall with her own hands. “Then you’re the reason she kept me up yesterday, crying non stop! I’m going to rip you apart, you vermin.”

The look in her eyes is, most definitely, the scariest thing you had ever seen. It’s feral, inhuman, and unstoppably determined. But when tears fall from your eyes, it’s not because you know you’re about to die. No, it’s because the last thing you think you’ll ever hear is the news that your partner had been sobbing for hours… and that you were the reason why. Your heart aches, both physically and emotionally, as you brace yourself for the bloody end.

Instead, the grip on your clothes loosens. You don’t dare open your eyes to see why.

“What the fuck do you want, sis?” Cassandra asked, sounding like she had turned her head away from you. Before you know it you’ve been let go, and you slide to the ground, too surprised to hold yourself steady. When you look up, you see an irritated Bela pulling Cassandra away from you, whispering something you can’t quite hear. They argue for a minute, under their breath, keen on keeping you out of the loop. Eventually the younger of the two storms away, but not before making a dent in the wall with her fist.

“What a child,” Bela said, rolling her eyes at the display. Then she’s walking back towards you, extending a hand in an offer of assistance (one you gladly accept). “That girl has the foresight of a magic eight ball, I swear. If she had actually killed you… ugh, I can hardly stand to imagine how inconsolable Daniela would become. Then I’d have two insufferable sisters. Regardless, do tell me why you thought it would be a good idea to come up here unaccompanied? It is normally off limits for servants, after all.”

“I-I, well… I mean, firstly thank you for saving me, I had no idea-” Bela holds a finger up in a ‘shut up’ motion, then puts it away as soon as you pause- “right, you don’t care. Look, I was just trying to find the piano books that Lady Dimitrescu mentioned, but I’ve looked all over and I can’t find them, so I should really just go,” you explain, eager to get out of the attic. To your surprise, Bela gives you an odd look before turning away. Then she takes no more than five steps, shifts to the side, and opens an old cabinet. Inside you can see a dozen books of sheet music, notably from several different decades, all worn but still in decent condition. “How did-?... I thought I checked there.”

“Well, you must have been distracted. Nonetheless, you know where they are now, and you owe me twice over. With that in mind… come with me. We have things to discuss,” Bela commanded, walking away before you could protest. All you can do is grab the sheet music, tuck it under one arm, and follow her to who-knows-where.

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“I’ll have to have you make my tea more often,” Bela mused, letting the mug keep her hands warm. The two of you were sitting in some sort of study, a room that you had never been inside before. From what you could tell it belonged solely to the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. Inside were several shelves, each filled with well bookmarked collections, a desk next to a massive window, a couple simple chairs, and a few instrument cases. All in all it was an aesthetically pleasing room, organized but not exactly neat. You could certainly imagine Bela spending entire days in this chamber. “Now, why do you think I brought you here?” Her voice brings your focus back into the present moment, as well as sends a spike of anxiety through you.

“Based on what nearly got me killed earlier… Does it have to do with Daniela crying?” You asked, doing your best to indicate just how bad you felt about the subject. No matter how cruel she could be, you did honestly care about Daniela, and even wanted a real, healthy relationship with her. Desire, or willingness, wasn’t the root of the problem by any means. Something told you that Bela understood this, maybe even respected you for it.

“Guess there’s more in that pretty head of yours than air and symphonies, hmm?” Bela replied, laughing a little as she did. It was a far nicer sound than Cassandra’s maniacal giggling, for sure. “Now, I don’t know all the details about what happened- just that there was an argument, clearly a bad one, and Daniela barely made it through dinner before locking herself in her room. Luckily for you, our mother doesn’t seem to know about your little ‘fight’. She’s not sure what upset Dani, and I doubt my sister would tell her, so your secret is safe. Assuming that I blackmailed Cassandra well enough, that is. Anyway, I can’t help you, and by extension my sister, if I don’t know the full story. In case it wasn’t clear, that’s your cue to start talking.”

You’re surprised, admittedly, by a number of things. But Bela seems impatient, so you go over the details of the previous night with her, occasionally pausing to let her ask questions. The whole time her focus is on you, unwavering. There’s also a noticeable lack of judgement in her expression, even when you voice your regret about how you handled the situation, and what is there seems directed more towards Daniela than yourself. Once you finish, Bela releases a deep sigh. One of her hands goes to rub her forehead as if warding off a migraine.

“Well, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised, as much as I wish I could. Daniela’s always had her head in the clouds, and it’s left her tripping over her own feet more than once. Still, this is certainly one of her bigger messes…” Bela said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’m going to have to talk to her about this, aren’t I? There’s no way she’s going to process this correctly on her own.” This time she seemed to be talking to herself, gaze locked on her tea as if it might suddenly offer to speak to Daniela in her place. When the tea stayed silent, understandably, she returned her focus to you. “You seemed upset, earlier, about this ridiculous situation. I am going to assume, from that, you are genuinely interested in my dear sister. Normally, this would be the part where I drain you of all blood, and possibly keep your skull as a memento... mori. Yours would look lovely on a window sill, I think.”

She pauses, head tilting a little to the side, clearly evaluating your artistic value.

“However, Daniela appears to care about you, far more than her usual fleeting infatuations. So, for now, I have decided not to eviscerate you, you’re welcome,” Bela cooed, teasingly, enjoying the way you shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Still, you were glad that you would apparently be surviving the day. “So I’m going to give you some advice, which you will take, and you won’t even owe me anything extra for this. Daniela is in love with the mere concept of love- and she has been for as long as I can remember. Romance novels are practically the only books she reads. It’s… embarrassing, truly. More than that, I get the impression that she couldn’t even begin to describe what love actually feels like. She’s digested so much of that written drivel that it warped her senses. Of course, the, ahem, situation we find ourselves in, here at the castle, has undoubtedly added to this effect.

“To get to the point, Daniela’s terribly, hopelessly clueless when it comes to things like what she wants from you. And so I take it upon myself, as her older sibling, to ensure that you understand. Moreso, that you are not dissuaded. If this is an actual chance for her to experience real romance, then it could make her happier than I’ve ever seen her,” Bela explained. The look in her eyes was incredibly soft, to the point where it made you realize just how much this odd little family cared for each other. “Don’t give up, don’t let her occasional infuriating antics push you away. Given enough time… I think the two of you could, I suppose, compliment each other quite nicely. But if you break her heart? I will pull yours from your chest and eat it raw. Understood?” Gulping, you nodded quickly, ignoring the feeling of heat rushing to your cheeks. It was one thing for Bela to want her sister to be happy, but another thing entirely for her to acknowledge your “suitability” for the position. “Good. Now return to whatever it is you maidens normally do. I have a sister to talk sense into.”

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Hours later, you stand alone in a display room, dusting various relics from bygone times. A trophy here, a bizarre art piece there, strange, unlabeled tools you can’t quite imagine are for wine-making. It’s a fascinating collection, really. But your mind is focused on other, far softer things. All you can think about is what Bela had told you, about how Daniela really is interested in you, and how she thought the two of you could make it work. After the chaos earlier in the day, this was exactly what you needed. Just some time to yourself, working quietly, thoughts all to yourself. Even your bruises bother you less, the pain fading out into the background. Considering where you are, though, it is not at all surprising that your peace cannot last. As soon as you finish your task you move towards the exit.

The door swings open, outwards, at your touch, only to reveal a familiar figure reaching for the doorknob. Both of you gasp, taken by surprise, before your gazes meet. Of course it’s Daniela. Who else would you bump into right now?

“I thought about what you said,” she blurts, suddenly, eyes wide and hands shaking. “We need to talk, yeah?”

[schnedoop]

Servitude (Kaeya x Reader)

SUMMARY: You were just so sweet, so diligent, so noble. Too noble, if Kaeya’s honest. He’s glad that he was the first one to take advantage of it.

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon

TAGS: cockwarming, PIV penetration, manipulation, abuse of power, asshole Kaeya

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

Kaeya can’t help but think that you would have made an amazing knight.

You were born with all the qualities needed for the job: a quick wit, a reassuring demeanor, a natural respect for the Anemo Archon, and a blinding devotion to serving the people of Mondstadt to top it all off. Inside you seemed to be a fierce combination of Diluc, Jean, Varka—and Kaeya can’t deny that, in your early training days, he sometimes saw himself in your unfailing persistence—and you seemed to carry everyone's best traits only, all weaknesses of character cast to the side.

Yes, the man muses, continuing to write his report. An amazing knight indeed. 

He still remembers how popular you were during your training years. Captains and soldiers alike stepped away from their taverns to spend their free time watching you, someone they all imagined to be the future of the Ordo, the next grandmaster, someone even Jean couldn’t hide her favoritism for.

Kaeya can’t say he blames any of them. He was always among the spectators, of course, watching you train, eavesdropping on your conversations in the mess hall, taking stalker-like measures to decode the enigma that was you.

In the beginning, it was out of wariness.

Kaeya was disinclined to believe that anyone could be so perfect, so pure. He assumed that you were putting up a facade, that the way you always took the long way home to help any citizens who crossed your path was nothing but a vicious scheme to gain Mondstadt’s trust so you could betray it—but soon, he learned that it wasn’t a lie. That you truly were this good a person. That your blinding naivety was natural, and not even a little feigned.

That was around when Kaeya began to watch over you, not as a potential threat, but as a subject of interest.

He found that everything about you was sincere. That you were one of the only knights who wouldn’t lie about their numbers for the bi-annual physical evaluations, who would spend their free time scouting out hillichurl camps and anonymously reporting them, who would wake up early to get extra training in, who would do anything and everything you could think of to better equip you to serve Mondstadt.

Kaeya found it endearing. You were so sweet, so diligent, so noble.

Too noble, if Kaeya’s honest. 

He’s glad that he was the first one to take advantage of it.

It started off with a casual comment during training. Your instructor was on bedrest after getting ambushed by some Electro slimes while swimming in a lake, so Kaeya had been asked to fill in. He paced down the line of your fellow soldiers-in-training slowly, offering loud compliments and gentle corrections to everyone he walked past, only for him to come to a halt at you.

“Come on, I’m sure you can do better than that. Training is no joke, cadet. Please take this seriously.”

You practically froze when he said that to you. 

His words were whispered, hushed low into your ear as if Kaeya didn’t want to embarrass you by chastizing you publicly, as if Kaeya was still the amicable Cavalry Captain everyone knew him to be, as if his criticism of you was genuine and wasn’t a stupid lie to make you question yourself.

It took all of Kaeya’s self-restraint to keep his expression neutral as he moved on. No doubt, it was the first time anyone had ever spoken to you as if you were failing to meet expectations instead of surpassing them—and Kaeya half-expected you to protest, to argue that you were doing a better job than everyone else in the room. 

He was pleasantly surprised when you mumbled an even more determined “Yes sir,” before continuing. 

A perfect soldier indeed. 

After that, you seemed determined to impress Kaeya. He could see the hierarchy in your mind: the fact that, although Jean was higher in authority, her praise meant less to you than Kaeya’s because he was the only one to not be impressed.

After you set your sights on impressing him, it was all over for you.

Crushing your spirit was an easy feat for Kaeya. You were a brilliant soldier, probably the strongest recruit the Ordo has had since Diluc, but you were nothing exceptional when it came to mind games. The occasional “do you need a break, cadet?” and the more often “there’s no shame in admitting weakness, solder” began to wear into you. Whereas before you responded to his every criticism with a fierce determination to do better, Kaeya could sense the change when you began to think your efforts futile, when you began to feel like the Cavalry Captain you so wanted to impress would, seemingly, never find you as exceptional as everyone else did. 

Kaeya still remembers the devastated look on your face when you barged into his office at midnight on the eve of your official recruitment into the Ordo.

“What do I have to do?!” you blurted, hands balled in fists. “What do I have to do to make you think I deserve to be a knight?!”

Kaeya recalls how surprised he’d been at that. He stared at you, that night, with genuine shock at your outburst. 

Before, he assumed that your attempts to impress him had merely been out of a selfish desire to earn the praise of everyone around you. Yet, there you stood, cute little tears building in your eyes as you revealed that the true reason was that you felt bad joining the knights without his approval, as if Kaeya was some benchmark that you needed to pass.

Very well, the knight remembers thinking. With your official graduation from soldier-in-training to soldier, Kaeya had been prepared to release the possessive grip he had around you...but when you presented him with such an obvious opportunity to take what he wanted, who was he to resist?

“It’s not anything you can change, cadet. Some people are meant to be soldiers. Some people aren’t. I already know which kind you are, but it doesn’t matter.” 

Every word Kaeya said had been carefully placed. He phrased his response in a perfect way, all to prompt the inevitable question from your soft, sweet lips:

“A-and which kind am I?”

“Which kind of what?” Kaeya asked, pretending as if he was barely giving this conversation any thought. He brought his eyes down to the map that he was detailing, pretending to continue working on it. 

“Wh-which kind of knight do you think I am?”

Kaeya remembers how hard it had been to stop a vicious smile from spreading across his face.

“You don’t want to know, cadet.”

“I do, Captain! I really do! Y-your opinion matters to me!”

“Oh?” That had been the first time Kaeya placed his quill down. “So if I tell you that I don’t think you’re ready to be a knight, you’ll heed my advice?”

“Well…” 

Your sheepish expression had been almost too much to bear. 

“If you came here to ask for my opinion just to ignore it, I’d advise going elsewhere. Please don't waste my time. The Ordo will spend enough resources trying to turn you into a half-decent knight, so don’t disregard all of that by—”

“Why?” you practically sobbed. You’d come forward and placed your palms flat against the surface of Kaeya’s desk, a pose that would have been wholly intimidating if not for the tears building in your eyes. “Why don’t you think I’ll make a good knight? Why won’t I—” you’d broken off to wipe away the tears that had begun to spill. “Why won’t I be able to help the Knights of Favonius?”

Instantly, Kaeya had risen and walked over you to wrap you in his arms. 

You were confused, no doubt, because the captain had been anything but kind to you in your previous interactions, but you openly sobbed into Kaeya’s chest, gripping the fabric of his jacket weakly. 

“I j-just want to help—I just want to m-m-make Mondstadt safer—I j-just—just want—”

“Of course you can help,” Kaeya whispered gently into your ear, wiping your tears away. “You’d be an invaluable resource to the city. It’s just that serving as a knight would be useless when you could be so much more useful.”

That stole your attention.

Instantly, you looked up at Kaeya with hopeful eyes.

“R-really? You think I can...actually help?”

Kaeya remembers how even he had been unable to stop the cruel smile from spreading across his face when he realized that you genuinely believed his words all this time: thinking yourself lesser, weaker, inferior to your fellow cadets. 

“Of course you can,” Kaeya whispered into your ear, gentle as the setting sun. 

And in this way, he managed to persuade you in a single night to abandon your dreams of becoming a soldier. Easily, he made you understand that such a thing was futile. Soldiers were expendable, and when Kaeya asked you if you thought you were expendable, you shook your head like a good girl and said you wanted to be alive to protect Mondstadt, not a dead body that could do nothing.

Still, you would have made an amazing knight. 

Would have, but not anymore.

You were born with all the qualities you needed for the job—but one by one, Kaeya’s replaced them with smarter, more reasonable goals. Your once-quick wit has been refocused on pleasing Kaeya, on figuring out whether he’d rather hear “yes, sir” or “thank you, sir” based on the question he poses you with. The calm, reassuring demeanor that once drew people into you is now nonexistent, completely replaced with something more obedient. The respect you used to allot the Anemo Archon has been redirected onto Kaeya: because what has Barbatos actually done for you? Kaeya is the one who’s given you a home, a purpose—it’s him that you pray to every day when you get on your knees.

The one thing that has remained constant is the devotion you carry for the people of Mondstadt: but that, too, has shifted.

Where you once wished to serve your people by protecting them on the front lines, you now understand that your purpose is to personally aid the superiors who already know how to do the job, to make Kaeya happier so that he can protect the nation for you. 

It was hard, at first.

But your mind is pliant, now, moldable and malleable as Kaeya wraps a hand around your naked hip to halt your grinding.

“Now, now,” he chides, kissing your shoulder as he continues to write his report. “None of that. I’ll fuck you nice and good after I’m done with this, so don’t distract me.”

“But—but sir,” you whine, wriggling your hips gently on top of Kaeya as if hoping that it’ll convince him to forgo the report and fuck you now. 

Internally, Kaeya appreciates how well you’ve acclimated to your new life. Externally, he clicks his tongue and lays a slap against your bare bottom, ignoring your delighted giggle.

“Be a good girl and let me focus. These are important documents, okay? You being here only helps me work if you’re not trying to distract me. Or do you not want to help Mondstadt out after all?”

That line always works, and you instinctively coil in on yourself, ashamed as you halt your playful teasing and rest your head on Kaeya’s shoulder. 

“I—I want to help Mondstadt…”

“I thought so. So be a good girl and keep my cock warm until I’m done.”

And you do a good job of it. Oh, you do such a good job, your little cunt clenching down on Kaeya the whole time as he proofreads his report once, then twice (and then thrice, though that’s more to torture you than it is to actually check for mistakes)—and when Kaeya finally tucks his report inside an envelope, sealing it with the crest of the Cavalry Captain, he knows you deserve a reward.

“Good girl,” he coos, slipping his gloves off to massage the soft flesh of your ass with his bare hands. “How did that feel? What do you want me to do to you?”

“Felt good,” you whisper, and Kaeya loves the shudder that runs down your spine when he drags a finger to circle at your clit. “P-please, Sir. Want more. I-if you have time. If you're busy with your captain duties...I can w-wait. But if not. Please.”

So cute, Kaeya thinks, loving how even now, months after you’ve been isolated from the world, you still cling to the naive hope that somehow, being Kaeya’s private slut is contributing to the prosperity of Mondstadt. Not that it’s something Kaeya will ever correct. He can keep you here for as long as you believe you want to be here, so he won’t do anything to jeopardize your innocent naivety. 

“Hmm, you’re going to be more specific than that, sweetheart. What do you want more of?”

“You, Sir,” you gasp, rolling your hips down on Kaeya’s cock to enunciate your point. “Wanna get fucked. Pretty please.”

“Oh?” Kaeya chuckles, lifting you up and laying you down on his desk, not caring about the paperwork your body is sprawled over because goddamn, you look hot like this, tits exposed, face flushed, pupils dilated, like the only thing you can think about is Kaeya’s cock and how bad you want it.

“You don’t want anything else?”

Normally, this is the part where you deliver a mumble about Mondstadt and how you want prosperity for the nation. Those comments have been getting more and more halfhearted recently, overshadowed by your larger desire for the overwhelming pleasure that Kaeya, and today—

Today, you forget about your so-called love for Mondstadt altogether.

“No,” you babble, wrapping your legs around Kaeya’s hips, desperately trying to tempt him into fucking into you. “No, Sir, don’t want anything but you so please, please, please—”

A breathy laugh falls from Kaeya’s lips as he leans over to press a quick kiss to your forehead. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” His hands find your hips, slender fingers digging in to grip them with bruising force as he prepares to wreck you from the inside. “I’ll always give you what you want.”

[auroracalisto]

oh god, i want to feel again

summary: using the prompt “stay alive for me.” from this list here.  the reader is the only other survivor from their little friend group, save for brooke.  all alone with friends who truly couldn’t care about her, she finds herself back at camp redwood.

pairing: xavier x reader

word count: 2.4k words

warnings: death, dead body mentions, no important deaths, mentions of suicidal thoughts, implied depression, implied anxiety, shitty friends

a/n: i love 1984 so much.  like.  stop me from writing about it.  please.  i loved writing every word for this.  also like????  don’t ask about the title.  i realize the sentence prompt has nothing to to with sleeping at last’s touch but it’s fine.  it’s fine.

You never should have let your friends talk you into going back to Camp Redwood.  And yet, you stood near them as the fawned over the scenery.  You couldn’t help but notice that it really was a beautiful place—it was just as beautiful as it had been when you had been there last.  But this place made you more nervous than you would like to admit.  Just thinking about everything that had happened made you want to cry.  But your friends told you they would be quick.  They just wanted to take a look around, maybe check out the cabins. 

However, you knew better.  Going to Camp Redwood was never something good.  Coming back to the damned place was a death wish—and your past self would have hit you for being so stupid to come back.

It had only taken an hour for your friends to leave your side.  But you weren’t surprised.  They were never really good “friends.”  In fact, the closest one to you out of the group once told you that the others were only friends with you for publicity.  Being the only other survivor out of your friends, save for Brooke, you were like a little legend in your town.  You knew it hadn’t been Brooke.  But it was your word against everything. 

You missed her.  She had been a good friend.  All of your friends had been.  Chet, Ray, Montana.  And Xavier.  Oh, God, did you miss Xavier.

There wasn’t a day that went by that you didn’t think of the blonde haired jazzercise instructor.  It hurt your heart to know that he was gone forever, taken by the very thing that made your “friends” fangirl.  On your way up to the camp, you swore you heard them talking about the Night Stalker.  It sent you into a memory that you couldn’t stand remembering.  Perhaps you should have just asked them to drop you off at the gas station and then pick you up later.  It would have been easier that way. 

It was 1987.  Three years after the massacre of your friends, and three years after you barely made it out of Camp Redwood alive. 

You found yourself sitting on the edge of the dock, staring out at the lake.  The water was dark and murky—not how you remembered.  But it had been quite a few years since you were last here.  You didn’t know what else could have happened.  You took in a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. 

You wanted to leave.  That was the first thing that came to mind.  Just moments after the thought ran through your head, you felt something brush against your foot. 

Your heart leapt to your throat.

Scrambling to your feet, and suppressing your scream, you looked down at the water and saw a bloated body.  They had obviously been in the water for some time.  You took a couple steps back, your hands gripping at your shirt.  But that’s when you saw it.  A flash of two blonde heads in the corner of your eye, standing by one of the cabins.  None of your friends were blonde. 

You blinked and almost thought that you were just crazy—but then you saw it.  That outfit.  The blues and whites and that signature coat.  Were you crazy? 

You didn’t know.  Even so, your feet started moving before you could stop them.  In a matter of seconds, you were running.  Through the mud, through the roots that sprung up from the cold ground, through the tree limbs that continued to snag your shirt.  However, you didn’t care.  If that was who you thought it was, it didn’t matter if you hurt yourself or scratched up your outfit.  It was okay. 

You reached the area you had thought you saw him—the girls’ cabin.  That’s where you had hung out during the short time you were there.  The sight of the log building made you sick to your stomach.  This whole trip made you sick. 

If only you had listened to your gut feeling and passed up your friends invite, then you wouldn’t be standing here, questioning your sanity. 

But then you heard a voice. 

“[Your name]?”

Not just any voice—Xavier’s voice.

You quickly spun around; your eyes were wide.  You saw him standing there, all alone.  He gave you an incredulous look before Xavier wasted no time in rushing over to you.  He wrapped his arms around you, one of his hands resting on the back of your head.

“What—what,” you breathed out, quickly hugging him back.  “What the hell?  You’re dead,” you spoke, burying your face in his chest.  “You’re supposed to be dead.  Why are you here?”

Xavier chuckled softly.  “I’m a ghost, [Your name].”  He slightly pulled back to look down at you.  “God, I never thought I’d see you again.  Why are you here?”

“My… my friends—”

Before you could finish, a scream erupted through the trees, sending birds flying into the blue sky. 

You pulled back, looking over your shoulder.  “My friends brought me here…”

Xavier rose an eyebrow. 

“What’s going on?” you asked, shaking your head.  You paid no mind to the scream—a part of you didn’t care what happened, as awful as that sounded.  The other part of you ached to go and help them, but you couldn’t.  Xavier was standing in front of you.

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“How are you—how are you here?  You’re a ghost...?”

He smiled softly, watching you with an unreadable expression.  “Yes.”

“That’s so vague,” you huffed, noticing a smear of blood on his cheek.  You reached forward, your thumb rubbing it off.  You frowned up at him.  “How the hell are you still here?” you repeated. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admitted.  “All of us.  We’re all here.  Well, save for you and Brooke,” he hesitantly smiled. 

You blinked slowly, furrowing your eyebrows.  “You’re all still here?” you asked, unable to stop your tears from forming.  “Xavier, I—I never thought I’d see you again.  And you’re telling me everyone’s still here?”

“You’re taking this pretty well,” he snorted softly.

“Yeah, well, you would to when you realize that all your friends are still here, and you didn’t watch them all die,” you said, taking in a deep breath. 

“Well, you did—”

“—you know what I mean, Xav.”

The blonde began to smile at you.  “I really never expected to see you again,” he said, giving you another tight hug.  “Why did you come with them…?”

“Closure?” you questioned your own answer, hugging him back.  “A chance to… to come to peace with what happened?”

“You sure as hell aren’t getting that,” he let out a laugh, not stopping himself from kissing the top of your head. 

You froze up, but you never once stopped him. 

“It’s only been three years, X,” you said, closing your eyes.  “I’ve lived… three hell-filled years without you guys.  I miss you so much,” you said.  You swallowed thickly, completely pulling back from the man.  “I… Brooke was sentenced.  They are convinced she did it,” you spoke. 

Xavier pursed his lips, and he took ahold of your hand.  “It’s okay.  It’s not your fault.”

“I… I just… I miss you.  I miss you guys so much, Xavier.  You have no idea.”

“Is that why you came?” Xavier softly asked, looking over you.  “To… be closer?”

Your eyes widened a bit.  You hadn’t thought of it like that.  But maybe, subconsciously, that’s what was going on.  Your mind knew that it was a way to be closer to your friends.  You never expected that you would literally get closer to them, in every way possible. 

“You make a good point,” you said, sniffling softly.

Xavier grinned, leaning forward to cup your cheeks.  “You look hot for a twenty-six-year-old,” he said. 

You slapped his hand away, unable to stop your cheeks from growing warm.  “It’s been three years, not a fucking decade.”

His smile only grew.  “You do, though.”

You sniffled again, looking up at him.  “You… I really never thought I’d see you again.  I can’t believe you’re here, Xav.  I…. It’s so hard to live without you.”

He frowned and leaned forward, kissing your forehead again.  You closed your eyes as his lips lingered. 

“I know.  But you can’t stay here.  There’s nothing here that would support someone who’s alive.  You need to go back home, get back to your life.”

“Xavier, I don’t have a life,” you frowned.  “I work, I come home, and I try to ignore the people who brought me here.”

“So, they’re not your friends?” a female voice came from behind you. 

You quickly spun around, spotting a blood-covered Montana.  You could hardly breathe.  You let go of Xavier and rushed over to the girl, tightly hugging onto her. 

“Oh my God,” you breathed, tears forming in your eyes again.  You silently cursed yourself for your constant waterworks—but your emotions were all over the place. 

“Uh, definitely not God,” she laughed, hugging you back.  “God, [Your name], why the hell are you here?  You look hot,” she grinned.

“Hey, back off, I already told her that,” Xavier scoffed. 

Montana just smiled, pulling back. You noticed that your clothes were now bloody, but you honestly didn’t care.  You reached up, wiping your tears away. 

“I can’t believe… I can’t believe you guys are actually here.  Are you sure I’m not just crazy?  And making this all up in my head?”

Xavier smiled and took your hand.  “We’re here.”

You lost track of time.  When you finally looked out the dusty cabin window, the moon was peaked high in the sky. 

You looked over at your friends, not knowing what to say.  You didn’t want to leave them, again.  You couldn’t leave them again. 

You reached forward and took Xavier’s hand, dragging him out of his conversation with Chet. 

“Can we talk?”

Xavier smiled back at you and nodded.  He hadn’t been this happy about anything, for some time.  He couldn’t believe that you were here.  He never thought that he would see you again—and you were the one person that he would have done anything for, save for himself. 

The two of you stood outside of the edge of the cabin steps.  Xavier leaned against the railing and you found yourself sitting down on the top of the staircase.

“I… I can’t leave you guys.  Not again.  I’ve got nothing out there for me—”

Xavier’s face fell as he heard you.  “No.  I know what you want.  You’re not doing that.  No way in hell.  You’re the only one of us who survived, you need to keep on living—”

“—I only survived because you guys all died before I escaped,” you said, your bottom lip quivering.  “Xavier, I can’t function without you guys.  I can’t—I can’t do anything without thinking about all of you.”

“You will, eventually,” Xavier said, sending you a soft smile.  He leaned forward and grabbed your hands.  “You’ll be able to.”

“When, X?  When I’m on my eightieth birthday?” you questioned. 

He snickered softly and kissed your cheek.  “You know that’s not true.  You’ll be okay.  You need to go home, [Your name].  You know that we’re here.  You can visit any time you want to.  Stay alive for me.”

“But I’ll continue to age.  And you’ll all stay here, exactly the same.”

Xavier grinned.  “Well, you continue to age.  Get a spouse.  Make some babies.  Come and see us when you have the time.”

He was trying to talk you out of it.  He didn’t want you dead—if you died, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself (metaphorically, of course).  He had protected you until his last breath, and he would do it again.  Even if it meant sending you away, no matter how much he would have rather had you there. 

“I’ll continue to age, X.  But I’m not ever gonna marry.  And I won’t ever have kids.”

“Why not?” Xavier asked, brows furrowed. 

“Because the one person I wanted that with is here.”

He stopped for a moment, letting go of your hands.  “What?” he tilted his head, watching you.  “Who?”

“You, you idiot,” you said, tears welling in your eyes.  “I didn’t want to come back here because I thought that I would find things of yours.  I didn’t expect your whole damn ghost.  I don’t want to age.  I don’t want to just marry someone.  I wanted to marry you,” you said, choking back a sob with an awkward cough.  “I wanted to date you, I wanted to fall in love with you even more than I already loved you.  You dying made me realize that I would never have that.  I would never love anyone as much as I love you, Xavier.”

Xavier didn’t say anything, watching you intently.

“I’ve mourned you every damn day.  I—I’ve wondered, why did this happen?  Why couldn’t I have just died with you?  And I nearly did it.  Several times, Xavier.  I would have done it again,” you said, staring him down.  “If I came here and saw that you… you still had things here.  If I saw your blood or that—that damned horror oven.  I… I would have done it.”

Xavier quickly took your hands again.  “Stop it.  Stop talking like that.  [Your name]…”

“And see?  You don’t even love me back,” you said, finally letting out a sob.  “You’ve stared at me this whole time, and said noth—”

You were cut off by cold lips pressing against yours.  But just as soon as you had been interrupted, you started kissing him back.  You were still crying—all of your pent-up exhaustion and rage releasing with your tears. 

Xavier slightly pulled back, his forehead pressing against yours.  “I… I love you, too, [Your name].”

You squeezed your eyes shut.  Xavier leaned forward and wiped your falling tears away. 

“The only way you can stay here… is if you die.”

You took in a deep breath, looking up and locking eyes with the blonde.  “I’ll do anything I have to.  I just can’t leave.  Not again.”

Xavier sadly smiled, unable to stop his own tears from forming.  “Alright, then.  I won’t stop you,” he pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles.  “How… how do you wanna go?  It’s your choice.”

“I…” 

[juchumice]

ive been thinking abt this avatar au for SO LONG!! i know some other exists but i still really wanted to put my spin on it and make them younger so it could be a bit more contextually different, so they’re roughly 14 during the au!

AIZAWA: aizawa’s a waterbender from the northern water tribe. initially, many believed he was a nonbender as it took quite awhile longer for his bending to reveal itself than the other children. he has zero talent concerning waterbending, none at all. in fact, he was absolutely terrible at it initially. but, if there was one thing he was certain about in youth, it was being an excellent waterbender. when first applying to waterbending classes, he was considered far too inexperienced to join. the instructor was a stern type. he told aizawa that he had, “no potential,” and should focus less on waterbending and more on hand to hand combat to waste less time. instead of listening, aizawa practiced terribly. everyday, every moment, he would be waterbending from dusk to dawn till he stumbled from lack of sleep. he even founded his own method, drenching his scarf of spongey material in water and bending it as a weapon. after further practice, he finally got accepted into the course with pure hard work. the issue was that everyone in his class was younger than him, talented and brilliant. none of them worked as hard as he did. they all were children just playing around. as the bending moves increased in difficulty, aizawa began to fall behind again, so his whole day would be absolutely swallowed in practice, practice, and practice. he would be beaten constantly by his peers: during spars, general displays of moves, and learning, so he couldn’t rely on his own power, instead focusing on strength in addition to strategy and observation. it was this adjustment of tactics that led him higher in his studies. he was able to graduate the minor classes, but his instructor thought it was best to get more experience in bending rather than continually relying on his other strengths, so he was sent away from home to study abroad among the other kingdoms and view their bending techniques.

YAMADA: yamada is an air nomad, but he is one of the very few who does not appear to be capable of bending. due to the spiritual nature of the air nomads, there are very few who are unable to airbend, and yamada is one of them. but, everyone else was very supportive even without his bending. he was able to have many friends, however couldn’t join in their air bending games. that’s where he learned his talent for announcing. as the other kids would play their games of air ball and pie toss, he’ll be there on the sidelines, narrating every single thing with his peculiar flare that led to his popularity among the northern air temple. though, even with everyone’s supportive nature, yamada was unhappy with his position. ever since he was but a toddler, he really wanted to be an airbender, streaking across the sky on a glider and riding on air scooters, only to be sorely disappointed. sure, he was able to ‘fly’ with his flying bison’s, baito’s, help but it just wasn’t the same. after a bit, he ran from the northern air temple, sick and tired of living in such a small space. with far too many fantasies on his mind, yamada wished to explore the other nations. it was then he stumbled across the fire nation. they were fascinating. their own fierce power, their sense of fashion, their culture, everything drew yamada closer. he would watch their shows with undisguised excitement, even announcing for a couple of them. while announcing for one of the firebender shows, yamada was required to choose a volunteer from the crowd, which just happened to be aizawa. this led to the beginning of their interactions.

so that’s it i guess! my main ideas for the avatar au! yamada has a glider, but he uh... stole it. just carries it around a lot to ‘feel like an airbender’-- and it’s a great umbrella when it rains!

the au itself takes place before the 100 year war so no worries abt any firebenders just yet!! i might develop it more but this is where its at so farrr

also i wrote a lil small thing while i was playin with the idea: 

...

“You know… I always wanted to bend,” Yamada said. He kicked up the dust with a shoe, frowning at the cloud that billowed around his feet as if it could disappear with a simple scrutinizing look. But, it didn’t. Merely floated to and fro without a care of his whims. 

Aizawa examined him carefully. There was no sound made, just an invitation to continue.

Yamada blew at several pieces of hair that loosened from his bush that he called a hairstyle. “Yeah. Sounds ‘crazy’! But, it made total sense! Look, look, look, I would be an EPIC airbender. You have to admit. I mean, look how cool my poses are!” He proceeded to strike several different ‘airbending poses’ that neither suggested coolness nor airbending. 

“You’ve watched too many firebending shows,” Aizawa replied. 

“But that’s what makes it so cool! The fire just exploding into the sky like Pompeii, but you can only see these red sparkles and nothing goes wrong… Imagine doing that… Imagine…” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Being a bender must be fun, huh…” His staff loosened from his fingers to slide and clatter to the floor. “Don’t even use this DUMB thing! I dunno why I keep it all the time… Maybe, oh! Maybe every time I hold it I get a 1% increase in being an airbender or something! Yeah… tough luck. You know? You know how stupid it is when EVERYONE in the temple’s an airbender and you’re stuck being the only kid around-- believe me they’re all super nice about it-- BUT ME?? THE ONLY ONE!! Don’t feel bad for me or I’ll strangle you or something, but it still freaking sucks. Man, air scooters? I totally would’ve invented those if I was an airbender…”

On and on he jabbered. He could have done this if he was an airbender, or maybe he could have done this!  Aizawa was unsure what to respond with. He never understood. Sure, he understood hardship and running raggedly through the critics and holding one’s goals to heart. A waterbender who couldn’t bend water for crap? That’s what they called him, might as well give up they had said, but he powered through and became skilled with pure hard work. No luck, no cheats, and no talent. Yamada was the opposite case, full of supporting faces and ancient smiles, but just no bending in general. How could someone so hopeful be met with such a grisly fate? Yet, all that Aizawa could offer was a tongue-in-cheek, “Sorry.” 

Yamada stopped talking abruptly. “Huh?”

“I said sorry.”

“Oh. Yeah. Don’t say sorry, man! What’s the fun in that, too gloomy Aizawa, waaaay too gloomy. Y’know, it is what it is! I got a sweet gig going on anyway, I don’t need anything as stupid as airbending. Only saps use airbending, they probably think it’s cool or something, but it isn’t haha. Waterbending, firebending, earthbending, that stuff’s cool! Airbending’s just some playing around with wind or something.”

[nothing-more-than-hot-leaf-juice]

Ok modern zuko would be an expert at breakdancing and sokka would be the guy who just bi-panicks whenever he does

(whoops, my hand slipped and I accidentally wrote a modern au headcanon turned zukka karate au one-shot) 

Okay but consider this instead: Zuko doesn’t know how to dance for shit and has horrible rhythm, but he is a GOD at martial arts. He’s been doing some type of style since he was a kid and is a full black belt by the time he hits high school. Martial arts was always something he excelled at, but it was also something that made him feel more secure. It was something he could work on to help him protect himself from his home life, even if it wasn’t enough most times. He specifically excels in weapons forms (I’m thinking twin sais) and you DO NOT want to spar with him. Because he may be skinny and shorter, but he’s quick and can hit hard at just the right spots. 

When he was younger he was obsessed mainly because he felt that belt rankings and trophies from competitions were a way to prove himself to his dad, but when he moved in with Iroh (who encouraged him to keep it up and was so proud of how talented and passionate he was about it), he basically used it in place of talking about his feelings. He didn’t talk about his home life or the shit Ozai did, instead, he put all his energy into his black belt levels, learning new weapons forms, and eventually into teaching new students as a junior instructor. 

At school, he’s awkward and asocial and just doesn’t have the energy for people. Zuko has little patience for asshole classmates who ask intrusive questions about his scar or spread rumors about where he got it. He eats lunch in his English classroom and would be a complete shut-in if Iroh didn’t get him to work part-time at the Jasmine Dragon. But in the dojo, he’s focused and is able to direct his energy into improving his forms and teaching younger teens. 

One of his newer students transferred from a different dojo after moving from a different state. He’s actually a freshman at Zuko’s high school but it’s not as if Zuko really interacted that much with him. This kid, Aang, is as talented and dedicated as he is, but has a long way to go to learn all the new katas. Zuko’s been dubbed the ‘scary’ trainer at the dojo. He’s the serious one who will yell if someone is goofing off and everyone’s seen that he has no problem using full force in a demonstration (little kids love him and he’s super nice to them, but he teaches the 12-15 age range). Plus there’s that scar, which doesn’t make him the most initially welcoming person. But this new kid Aang just latches onto Zuko immediately. He says hi to Zuko in the halls at school and works on his katas outside of regular practice times. At first Zuko thinks this sickeningly positive kid is annoying as crap, but warms up to him. He likes that Aang cares about martial arts and isn’t nice as a show, he’s just genuinely nice. 

And maybe he sees Aang hanging around school with a sophomore girl and her brother who just might be in Zuko’s calc class and English class. 

And maybe Zuko thinks this guy is insanely attractive and somehow incredibly funny even though most of his humor consists of the worst puns imaginable. 

But obviously, Zuko hasn’t attempted to ever actually talk to this guy. The most that he could classify as ‘talking’ to the cute, funny guy on the robotics club is the one day in English class when he had to respond to someone’s dumbass comment about Macbeth with what ended up being a ten minute spoken essay about obvious motifs and symbolism. To which Mr. Puns and Ponytail was very obviously paying great attention to and even gave Zuko a smile and thumbs up for. 

Zuko knows it’s pointless to engage. After all, he’s a senior and he doesn’t have any friends anyway. There’s no point in making any this year. Crushing on this guy from the comfortable position of the other side of the room is totally good enough for him. Totally. This is fine. He’s fine.  

Besides, he’s got competitions and if he doesn’t secure the regional championships this year he’s never going to get the chance after he goes to college. And he’s got his kids to train. Aang in particular is gearing up for his first debut into this area’s tournament. 

The tournament’s in October and usually, Zuko focuses on his own matches and performances, but Aang really wanted him to watch his set. So on this day, he stands on the sides of Aang’s zone instead of obsessively going through his katas in a corner.He’s not going to be able to watch the whole set because it overlaps with his own weapons portion, but he stands on the side and gives Aang a reassuring look that, ‘don’t worry, you’ll do great, you’re a talented kid,’ when his student looks over to him nervously. 

And wouldn’t you know it? Aang brought some friends to come watch. And one of them is Mr. Zuko’s Big Gay Crush. 

“Oh, hey Zuko,” are the words that come out of this guy's mouth that give Zuko a near-stroke. And damn if this guy’s eyes aren’t blue and pretty and he usually wears his hair in a ponytail at school, but now he’s wearing it down and Zuko wishes he could take screenshots with his brain because holy moly. 

“Hey.” Is the best that Zuko can get out of his dumb mouth. “You’re Sokka.” 

“Aang invited us to come watch,” Sokka nudges his head to indicate the ‘us’ includes his younger sister, who Zuko doesn’t know the name of. “How do you guys not get heatstroke during these things? It’s like a million degrees in here.” 

“Oh the gi’s pretty cold, I mean, it’s got air and stuff.” 

Zuko decided right there that he would be completely fine with being struck by lightning. Of course, that’s what his stupid brain would come up with. Of course, that’d be the thing he’d say in front of one of the smartest guys in his class. 

They watch Aang perform his set for the judges. Zuko recognizes that Aang took his advice when he said that he wasn’t putting enough force into his hits. He’s never seen Aang be as, well, aggressive isn’t the right word, but he’s definitely putting more power into his form. Zuko wouldn’t admit it, though, but only part of his attention was for Aang at the moment. The other part was for Sokka, who was smiling bright and pumping his fists when Aang completed a row of kicks. 

The small part of Zuko’s brain that wasn’t being taken up by watching Aang or trying to act normal around his crush noticed the clock on the wall indicating that the weapons portion would be starting in five minutes.  

“I’ve got to go do a thing so I’ll just, um, go do that now.” 

“Are you competing too?” Sokka asked. 

To this question Zuko just holds up his sais and raises his eyebrow as if to say ‘it’s a tournament, what do you think?’ Because yeah, he knows Sokka’s super smart, he’s seen him churn out calc answers at the speed of light and noticed his name on the robotics club awards update on the school’s website, but he’d also seen Sokka eat 5 packs of fundip at once on a dare and unironically wear a ‘women want me, fish fear me’ t-shirt for most of junior year. Somehow he had managed to fall for the smartest dumbass on earth. 

“Oh yeah, right.” Sokka eyes the sais and then looks right at Zuko’s face, “Aang says you’re really good.” 

Zuko decides that thinking about Aang talking to Sokka about him was something he didn’t need distracting him during his set. That was something he could anxious about later. 

“Hopefully good enough for those five assholes,” Zuko replies, gesturing to the panel of judges in the weapons section of the gymnasium. To his shock, Sokka laughs. It’s a nice laugh, too. And Zuko really hoped he could blame the blush that was one-hundred-percent creeping up his face on the lack of AC. 

“You know, you’re pretty funny man,” Sokka tells him. Zuko has no clue how to take that compliment, but he really does need to go. 

“Right,” he grins nervously and shifts his left foot around to bounce away, “well I have to go do my thing.” 

“Good luck!” 

That’s where Zuko thinks the beginning and end of his interaction with Sokka would be. 

The weapons portion thankfully goes by age. And since Zuko’s one of the youngest competitions, he gets to go first for his sai katas. This is what literal years of training have prepared him for. At regionals last year, the second advanced kata got him placed high enough to qualify for states. This is what he’s good at. He tells himself that a thousand times before starting his set. 

There’s not a thought in his head as Zuko goes through the form. The sais glide through his fingertips with every jab, block, and hook. The imaginary opponent doesn’t stand a chance. He’s cool and competent and graceful. It’s therapeutic in a sense. There’s enough adrenaline to make Zuko feel like he’s worth something, but more importantly, he knows he’s nailing this. Whatever the judges say about it, he knows that he’s perfected this form after practicing it at least a thousand times over three years. 

The judges agree with him. He’s the first competitor of the weapons portion but there isn’t really a doubt in their minds about who’s going to place. 

Zuko zones back in to the gym after bowing to the panel. He walks off, feeling lighter and letting a satisfactory smile take over his face. 

He expects the hug from Uncle and the proud smile from Sensei Piandao, but what he doesn’t expect is to see Sokka, eyes wide as globes, staring at him from the other side of the mat. 

Because what Zuko doesn’t know is that the second he turned his wrists in his first form during his hooks, Sokka’s brain went into Full Bi Panic Mode. 

And Zuko thinks the one conversation where he couldn’t talk like a human and wanted to die for most of it would be the only time Sokka would decide to willingly talk to him. Zuko is dead wrong. Sokka, in fact, has decided that this, this is the guy his Disaster Bi Brain has decided to latch onto. Sokka’s brain and all his squishy feelings have apparently decided to attach to this aloof kid with the scar who reserved his voice for eloquent, impassioned speeches about dramas and was apparently an actual god with weapons. Sokka decides that Zuko could roundhouse kick him in the side and he’d thank him. And right now Zuko’s looking at him with a dumbfounded expression, prompting Sokka to remember how to function so he can go over to congratulate Zuko and maybe ask if his dojo provides a free trial. 

So yeah, that one conversation ends up decisively not being the end of anything. 

[clouditae]

Unexpected Confession

Jungkook x reader | pg13 | oneshot | high school au | basketball | fluff | swearing | slight bullying | violence

Word: 5.7k

You gathered up the courage to confess your feelings, but it seems everyone in school knows about it before you could even find him

“You’re really going to do it?” your friend asks, looking at you through the bathroom mirror in shock as you wash your hands. “You’re actually going to confess to one of the most popular students in this school?”

“Don’t scare me. I’ve already told myself six times today that I was going to confess.” You turn off the faucet, grabbing a paper towel from the dispenser. “Even if he rejects me and I can never look at him again,” you mumble. 

“Y/N,” Aleah begins, blocking your exit from the bathroom with her arms spread out to her sides, “you’re about to confess to Jungkook, the basketball and baseball playing hottie. You understand his ex will not be happy to hear about this since she’s protective of everything.” 

You frown. “He’s in basketball?” 

Aleah sighs, rolling her eyes as well. “Yes he’s in basketball! How do you not know? You go to his baseball games,” she claims. 

“I have NOSB, so I’m usually at the club preparing for the competition,” you disclose, pushing one of her arms down to get past her and out the door. 

She groans, “You are such a—are you sure you want to do this?” 

“It’s now or never,” you whisper. Your friend can only sigh in response, patting your back as the two of you part ways. “See you at lunch,” you call out to her, walking down the hall towards your chemistry class.

You have a test today, but you didn’t study as much as you would have liked since the club leader decided to give you “homework” to do and study for a small competition Friday. You’re stressed to the point where you’re beginning to think gray hairs are appearing. You almost cried when you thought you saw one. Turns out it was the light playing tricks on your eyes. 

Entering class you take your seat, setting your bag down and pulling out a pencil. The second the last bell rings, you watch as the instructor passes the test out. You take in a deep breath. There’s nothing else you can do but try your best. 

When the test reaches your desk, you immediately begin, surprised that after you finish, you know a lot of it. Some educated guesses seem like they’re the correct answer, but you’ll have to wait and see after it's graded and passed back on Monday. For the remainder of the class you listen to the instructor go over the next lesson on ionic bonding. You listen in silence, jotting down notes as the instructor works on the white board to explain in more detail about her explanation. 

“Does anyone know if a cation gains protons to form a positive charge or does it lose electrons?” your instructor asks, a strand of her hair falling from her bun as she pushes it back, eyes scanning the room for raised hands. Looking through your notes, you raise your hand. “Y/N,” she says, giving a nod for you to answer.

“The protons in the nucleus do not change during normal chemical reactions. Only the outer electrons move. Positive charges form when electrons are lost,” you tell her, looking up from your notes to see if you’re right. 

“That is correct,” she tells you, smiling as she continues class. So, for the rest of class, you take detailed notes and do a surprisingly good job at distracting yourself from your practiced speech you’re going to tell Jungkook after school. 

Jungkook. The popular one in school. Your neighbor since your first year here when you moved to this town for your dad’s job. A few words are exchanged whenever the two of you see one another at home, and a lot of accidental gazes when you two would look out your bedroom window. You just happen to pick the bedroom right across from his. 

Jungkook plays sports, is smart in class, has a girlfriend for two years—until they broke up over the summer before school started, and lots of friends. Whenever he walks down the hall, at least half the students say something to him, and he always talks to them like they’re his best friend. You wish you had the guts to try and be his friend, but you’re always afraid. 

What if his personality is all a show and he’s a mean person? Well what a great way to figure out by confessing your feelings for him. 

You almost bang your head against your desk until you remember where you are. To your luck the bell rings to let you know that class is over and lunch has begun. Packing your belongings, you head out of the class and enter the busy hall. Aleah will be waiting at the usual table, but before you can meet her, you need to put your chemistry textbook away and swap it out for your math book. Turning down a different hall, you notice several people looking at you; some are whispering to one another. 

You try your best to ignore them as you reach your locker and put in the combination before exchanging books. Why would they be looking at you and possibly be gossiping? You’re not well known in this school, so why would you be on their minds? Maybe you're overthinking it. 

Entering the cafeteria, you stand in line to get your food. You focus your attention on the display of food in front of you, debating on what to ask for when you reach the people standing behind the counter. After getting your food and heading towards the usual table Aleah sits at, you notice her expression. 

An expression you don’t like. 

“Y/N,” she whispers, as you take a seat across from her. “Everyone knows.”

You frown in confusion. “Know what?”

She looks at you with a sad expression. “People are talking about your crush on Jungkook and the confession you’re going to make after school.” 

“What?” you ask in complete disbelief. “How do they know?” 

No wonder people are looking at you and whispering to one another. Even now as you glance around the room you can see people looking at you and laughing with one another as they talk in low voices. 

“Did you check to see if anyone was in the bathroom when you went in there?” she asks, resting her arms on the table. You can’t meet her eyes at the realization that you didn’t check. You were so nervous at telling Aleah your plan that you just forgot. “Y/N,” she says, tone comforting. 

“I’m so stupid, Aleah,” you whimper, keeping your head down. 

“You’re not stupid, Y/N. It was just a coincidence that someone was in that bathroom.”

“I heard you’re going to confess to Jungkook,” a voice interrupts. You look up to meet a pair of brown eyes. Golden brown hair, make-up packed on, and the school uniform—slightly unbuttoned and skirt higher than it needs to be. Naeun. Jungkook’s ex. “Well? Is it true?” she asks, tone demanding. 

“That’s none of your business,” Aleah tells her, defending you before you can utter a word. 

Naeun turns to look at Aleah. “Was I talking to you?” she bellows before turning back to you. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Y/N,” she begins, placing her palms on the table and leaning in close towards you, “Jungkook only needs a break from us because he needs to focus on basketball, and that doesn’t mean he’s available to anyone. Got it?” Looking you up and down with a look of disgust, she stalks off. 

“Don’t listen to her, Y/N. She’s just a bitch who’s sad she’s no longer with Jungkook,” Aleah tells you, but you can already feel it. “Oh, Y/N, don’t cry.” She reaches across the table and takes your hand in hers. “I’m gonna beat her ass—” A sudden loud bang makes you both jump. You look to see your best friend staring behind you in shock. “Holy shit,” she whispers. 

Turning around, you see two people on the floor throwing fists at one another. A crowd begins to gather, but Aleah seems to be quicker as she pulls you to your feet and drags you towards the fight. After she pushes her way through, you get a clear view of the two. You watch as Jungkook pins down the captain of the football team and punches him in the face. Bringing his fist back, Jungkook lands another hit before he is thrown off by the man beneath him. 

“I can’t believe Jungkook is fighting Aaron. They’ve been friends for years,” Aleah mumbles in confusion. “What could have happened?”

You watch as Aaron gets a few hits in before he is pulled away by security. Another appears at Jungkook’s side, holding him back from lunging at his friend. “Everybody disperse,” a loud voice booms, making you jump again. The dean walks to the center of the crowd, eyes glaring at everyone. “If you are not back to your tables and eating lunch by the time I count to three I will start giving out detention. One!” That is all everyone needs before the group breaks up and runs back to their tables.

You follow Aleah back to yours. “Man, that was scary as hell,” she tells you, shaking her head as she sits back down. 

“I’ve never heard of Jungkook fighting with anyone before. He’s always friendly with everyone.”

“Tell me about it.” Aleah takes a bite of her food. “At least we know he can fight. Did you see how bad Aaron looked? Jungkook was nowhere near that,” she laughs. 

“Still he could get into a lot of trouble and he may get suspended from school,” you worry, glancing at the hall through the open doors where Jungkook was taken down. 

Suddenly you feel a splash of some sort of liquid whip across your face. You shut your eyes, feeling the sting as a familiar voice speaks up, “This is all your fault.” 

“What the fuck, Naeun?” you can hear Aleah speak. 

You’re not listening to their argument as you rub yours eyes. You’re just grateful that she threw water and not something else that can hurt. “It’s her fault that Jungkook got into a fight. This bitch deserves more than what I gave her,” Naeun finishes. 

Rubbing your eyes, you watch her walk back to her laughing table. You can hear Aleah talking to you, but you’re so pent-up in your anger you don’t listen to her as you grab your plate full of your mashed potatoes with gravy and storm towards her. No one stops you. No one does anything as you grab her by the shoulder, spin her around, and smash the paper plate on her face, some of the food flying from the impact. 

Watching the plate slide off her face, the ringing in your ears has finally stopped and you stand in a room filled with shocked eyes and silence. Naeun wipes the food from her eyes and you realize you’ve never seen someone look as pissed off as she does. “You’re fucking dead,” she says, ready to lunge but stops short at the deans voice.

The two of you turn to see him standing at the doorway. “Y/N, my office. Naeun, clean yourself up and come to my office.” It’s then you can feel your heart drop and the fear kick in. You’re in so much trouble. 

“Here, Y/N.” You turn to see Aleah handing you your bag. “That was fucking awesome by the way. Text me later.” 

Taking your bag from your friend, you follow the dean with heavy strides. You’ve never been in trouble before. What exactly happens when people get into trouble? Does he yell? You’re sensitive. You’ll cry if he yells at you. Hell, you’re already on the verge of crying. 

Entering the office, he points to the line of chairs outside his door. You do as you’re told and sit down. You’re trying your hardest not to cry in front of the receptionist at the desk, but you can already feel your body shaking and your eyes going blurry. You look down, pretending to fix something on your somewhat wet skirt. You don’t realize how wet your hair and shirt are until droplets begin to fall from the ends of your hair. 

Everything is a big mess, and so the tears begin to fall. Some fall on your hand while some roll down your cheeks. You sniffle as you quickly wipe at your warm cheeks. A pair of shoes come into your line of sight followed by a towel draping over your head. You look up to see Jungkook kneeling down to meet you at an almost eye level. 

There’s a Band-Aid above his left eyebrow, his left eye slightly purple. Other than that, he looks the same to you. His hair is a mess from probably running his hands through it out of frustration. After developing a crush, and having him in a few classes, you couldn’t help but notice the little things. 

“For you to dry yourself,” he says, gesturing to the towel on top of your head. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice cracking just a bit. You begin to dry your hair, wiping at your tears as well. 

“I’m sorry about Naeun,” he tells you, giving an apologetic smile. 

You shake your head. “It’s not your fault.”

“In a way it is. Even though we aren’t together, every person she hurts is my fault because we’re not together…” he trails off. “If that makes sense.” 

“Jungkook. I thought I told you not to leave until I say so.” Looking behind him, you see the school nurse standing in the hallway with her arms crossed over her chest in annoyance. 

Jungkook sighs. “Guess that’s my que to leave,” he mumbles, looking back to meet your eyes. “Can I walk you home after school?”

You can feel your heart racing. “I may not be here after school. He might throw—I mean kick me out before then,” you tell him, fumbling over your words a bit. 

He smiles. A smile that makes him scrunch his nose and remind you of a small animal. “I don’t think he’ll do that. If I can get off with a warning, then I’m positive you’ll get off with one, too.” 

“Jungkook!” the nurse yells. 

“I’ll see you after school.” He gets up to his feet and follows the nurse back down the hall. He turns around, walking backwards as he cups his hands around his mouth. “At your locker,” he calls, grinning and waving at you before turning back and around and following the nurse out of sight. 

You can’t help but smile, cheeks turning pink and a flutter in your stomach. You feel more at ease by his words. Maybe you won’t get into trouble, but it seems the dean caught you in the act of smashing food in her face. Just you pulling an act.

So, you wait and wait. Five minutes turns to forty and still no sign of the dean coming out of his office. Even as Naeun comes in ready to pounce you, the dean does not call either of you in for another hour. Every now and then you’ll glance in Naeun’s direction from across the room, but you always look away when you realize she’s glaring at you. 

“Naeun,” the dean says. You look up and watch him gesture with his finger for her to follow. Naeun gets up from her seat and follows him inside his office, the door closing. 

And so again, you wait. You glance at the clock, watching as time ticks closer and closer to the last bell. Will he ever call you to discuss your punishment? It’s giving you anxiety as time ticks on.

Finally, to your relief and fear, Naeun storms out of the room, not even looking at you as she leaves the building. You look to his office door, watching him step out and look down towards you. "Come in," he addresses, walking back into his office. You get up, feeling your legs shake and hands clutching the towel as you enter the room.

You've been in his office numerous times, but never for getting in trouble. You're usually in here with questions about the club competition and the funding to get there, but never to get yelled at. You can feel yourself on the verge of crying again, but you blink them back, not wanting to look like a child in front of the one who can expel you.

"Take a seat Y/N," he says, taking a seat at his chair behind his desk. You immediately sit down, watching him as he picks up a light brown file folder from his desk. Opening it, his eyes scan whatever is in that folder. "I am quite surprised by what I saw earlier today," he states, not even looking up at you.

"I am so sorry, Sir," you croak. "I-I don't know what came over me—I just lost it. She threw water at me and started telling me it's my fault, and I just couldn't take it—but that doesn't excuse my behavior." You’re a babbling mess.

"I saw everything, Y/N. I know what happened." He finally looks up to meet your blurred eyes. "Jungkook told me to stay behind "just in case" as he put it, and I was surprised to see that he was correct." He closes the folder, leaning back in his seat. "I'm not going to suspend you or put you in detention. I'm just going to ask you to not do that again. You're a good student and I don't want you to ruin your chances of going to the competition in February. So"—he clears his throat, leaning forward and interlocks his fingers together on his desk—"I'm going to let you off with a warning, okay?"

You nod vigorously. "I promise I'll never do anything to end up in this situation again." The dean nods, shooing you off with his hand. You get up, thanking him like your life depends on it as you leave his office. When you’re out of the room, you feel so relieved and so exhausted from trying not to cry.

How was Jungkook able to guess that you wouldn't get into trouble? You'll have to thank him when school—

Right on cue the bell rings, indicating that school is over. You grab your bag from the chair where you left it on, draping it over your head and telling the woman behind the receptionist desk goodbye. You walk out the door and into the hall filled with students eager to get out of the building and home. Making your way towards your locker, feeling excited to see Jungkook standing there, you’re trying your best not to run.

You don't get that far when you are stopped by your best friend. "How did it go?" she asks, pulling you to the side to avoid the busy hall. “Are you suspended?” 

You shake your head, feeling the biggest smile grow on your face. "I got off with a warning."

"That's great because do I have news for you," she says, looking around. She turns to you and tells you in a low voice, "I was told that the reason Jungkook got into a fight with Aaron was because Aaron was making fun of you and your confession you planned on doing. Jungkook just... jumped him."

"Really?" you ask, voice loud and completely shocked.

"Shh! Yes!"

"I can't believe he'd do that. He could have gotten in so much trouble," you say more to yourself than to her.

"He didn't get in trouble?" Aleah questions, shock written all over her face.

"Yeah. He got off with a warning like I did," you tell her.

"Holy fuck," she laughs. "So, the only two that got suspended were Naeun and Aaron."

“Wait, they got suspended, but Jungkook and I didn’t?”

“Hilarious right?” Aleah laughs as if she told you the funniest joke she has ever heard. You’ve never seen her laugh so hard to the point where tears begin to form and fall. You shake your head in defeat. “Oh, c’mon. Don’t tell me you don’t find this funny,” she argues, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I don’t have time to laugh. Although I don’t get why Aaron was suspended when Jungkook was the one who initiated the fight,” you wonder. A group of laughing teenagers walk by as Aleah shakes her head. 

“I was told he already did things that were just piling up because he’s the captain of the football team.” Aleah shrugs, gaze wandering off to the crowd walking past. Some towards the exit while others head towards their clubs or to practice. “It’s stupid that they took so long to suspend him, but are you ready to go?” she asks, turning towards you. 

The two of you usually go to the park and hang out for a while before going home. You two either gossip or do homework that one of your instructors gave you. You’re always there for each other. Whether it be in friendship or in homework, you always help one another out. Today, however, you’re not going to follow her to the park. You feel bad, but knowing her, she’ll be pushing you towards your locker.

"I can't today," you tell her, feeling giddy.

"Why?"

You took in a deep, shaky breath. "Jungkook asked to walk me home." You watch as her eyes go wide. "He's waiting for me at my locker," you finish.

Just as you predicted, Aleah is pushing you in the direction of your locker. "Well don't keep him waiting! Hurry up and go!" You laugh, walking on your own. "If he does anything to you that you don't like, let me know and I'll go kick his ass okay?" she yells.

You turn around to look at her encouraging smile. "I'll let you know the second I'm home what happened!" you call back, waving to her before turning back around and making your way towards your locker.

Reaching your hall, it’s empty except for Jungkook. You can see him leaning against the lockers, looking down at his shoes as he kicks imaginary dust. You can't help but imagine what it would be like if he were to wait for you every day to walk you home. Like he’s your boyfriend. Holding your hand, listening to you talk about your classes, as you listen to him about his practices—you’d even wait for him after practice when you didn't have your club meeting. He’ll smile at you with that scrunch he does with his nose, give you a kiss on your cheek, and eventually your lips.

You shake your head of those thoughts, ignoring the racing of your heart as you make your way down the hall towards him. When you’re close enough, he looks up to meet your eyes. He smiles and you swear you see the light around him shine brighter. "Did you get in trouble?" he asks.

"Ah, n-no. I got off with a warning like you said I would."

He smiles even brighter. How is that even possible? "Told you," he begins, pushing off the locker, "You had nothing to worry about."

"But you did," you counter, remembering what Aleah told you. "You could have gotten suspended for starting a fight."

"But I got a warning," he returns.

"You didn't have to do that for me. All people do is talk, but never do anything," you exclaim, shifting from one foot to the other.

"But I didn't like the way he was talking about you," he speaks under his breath, but you hear him, and you’re at a loss for words on how to respond to that. You've never had anyone defend you the way he did. You want to hug him. "Shall we head home?" He takes a step forward, looking at you to see if you'll follow. You quickly do, walking alongside him as the two of you head towards the door that leads to the front of the school.

The walk is silent, neither of you saying anything to one another. It's not that you don’t mind. You enjoy the feeling of walking beside him. Just knowing that you can walk with him just this once is enough for you. Even if he rejects you because Jungkook is the nicest person you have ever met. He always treats you like everyone else. He's never rude and always says hello when the two of you see one another at home or even at school.

"So, um," he begins, clearing his throat, "I heard about the rumors..."

Your heart stops. Hell, even you stop in your tracks. You’re not ready for his response. "I'm sorry," you sputter. "You can just ignore everything that you heard. It—it was..." What can you think of as an excuse? You were so confident in telling him your feelings, but now that you're standing in front of him with him asking you about it, you lost your nerve. All your confidence is gone.

"Oh," he says, looking a bit disappointed. Did he want to hear it from you?

He says nothing else as he continues to walk ahead. You jog to catch up. What do you say? What are you supposed to do? It seems like you ruined the entire walk because you were going to confess to him. You want to hit yourself.

For the rest of the walk you glance at him to see what sort of expression he has, but you can't read him. You have no idea what he’s thinking and all it does is make you more nervous. Eventually, your house comes into view and you still have no answer. Just a feeling of frustration for yourself. You reach your house first, the two of you stopping at the walkway leading towards your front door.

"Thank you," you tell him, looking anywhere but at him.

"It's no problem. We live next door."

You shake your head. "No," you begin, gathering the courage to meet his eyes, "Thank you for defending me. No one has ever done that for me—well, except for Aleah, but no one has ever gotten into a fight for me."

Jungkook shrugs. "Well, Aaron is an ass, and he shouldn't be talking bad about someone he doesn't know."

You nod in understanding. "I appreciate it and I'm sorry you got hurt in the process." Silence follows after. The two of you seem to have nothing else to say. "Well, I should go in." You gesture to your house with your thumb. Walking up the walkway you tell him, "Bye." He waves as you turn your back to him, glancing at your windows to see if your parents are watching. Thankfully no one is peeking through the curtains.

"What if," he calls. You turn back around to see him still standing in the same spot. "What if"—he whispers to himself—"I want to hear the rumors." He takes in a deep breath. "From you."

"W-what do you mean?" you stutter.

Jungkook glances at your house behind you before walking up to you. "What if I want to hear what you have to say?" He looks down. "Will you tell me?"

You feel like you’re going to throw up. What is happening? He wants to hear your confession? What could that mean?

You're a mess. You're a huge mess.

What surprises you and him is when you say, "I like you." Oh God. You want to run in the house and hide forever. You're never going to go to school again. You're going to move countries—

"Me too."

You look back up to meet his eyes, blinking a few times. "What?"

You can see his eyes widen in shock, as if he just realized what he said. "I-I said I like you, too."

"Really?" He nods. "When?"

"Since you moved next door." He scratches the back of his neck, clearly unsure as to what to do, but you're just as lost as he is. "What about you?" he suddenly questions.

"Same," you reply.

He giggles and you swear your heart is going to explode. "I didn't know you liked me. If I did, I wouldn't have stuck with Naeun for so long. When I heard the rumor, I never felt so happy," he confesses.

"I didn't think you'd like me back," you admit. Why are you acting like this was a casual conversation?

"That's crazy. You're smart, beautiful, funny, the sweetest person I've ever met. Your smile is contagious." You can feel the heat on your cheeks, and it seems Jungkook notices it, too. "Come to my game Friday?"

You want to say 'yes', but instead you say, "I have a club meeting. We usually don't finish until nine."

He hums in response. "Your NOSB club meeting?" You’re shocked that he knoww but you nod in response. "I understand. You have a competition to win, so study hard okay?" You nod again, completely baffled that he knows what club you’re in. He nods as well, glancing at your house once more. “I should go,” he tells you. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” You really wish you can do anything but nod. Sadly that is all you do seeing as your voice is betraying you. Smiling, Jungkook leans in, pressing his lips to your cheek to give you a quick kiss. 

You’re frozen in place, watching him quickly head towards his house, not even glancing at you. Touching the spot where his lips once were, you can’t contain the smile spreading as you head inside. Wait till you tell Aleah. 

“What do underwater earthquakes, landslides, volcanic eruptions, or explosions generate?” Macy, the club leader, questions. 

Jiyeon, standing at the opposite side of the room to be your opponent answers, “Whirlpools.” 

Macy shakes her head. “That is incorrect.” She turns to look at you. “Y/N you get to answer.” 

You think back to your study notes. “Tsunamis,” you answer. 

“Correct!” Macy says with a proud tone in her voice. 

Your club is currently split into two groups, practicing for the competition. You just got your team in the lead as you go to sit down and watch another member go up to the podium to answer the following question. You’re trying your best to focus on the questions, but your eyes keep glancing at the clock above the whiteboard and thoughts go back to the kiss and Jungkook admitting to having the same feelings as you. It’s like a dream come true. Never in a million years would you expect Jungkook to feel the same way, but he does and you are jovial. All you want to do is go to him, see him smile at you, hold your hand, hug you, and so much more. 

“Correct,” Macy yells, bringing you back to the room. She collects the flashcards she used for questions from the desk she sits at. “Well we went past our usual time,” she announces, getting up from the desk. “Make sure you get home safely if you’re not going to take the bus.” 

You glance at the clock one last time seeing that it is 9:05. You look up estimated times as to how long games are, and there is a slight possibility that the game may be playing still. You grab your belongings, casually waving bye and making your way out the door. The second you hear the door close, you sprint down the hall. The basketball game is on the other side of the school, so you’ll have to run the entire way just to try and make it to what's left of the game or to an empty court.

You run as fast and as hard as you can, legs burning, air coming out in short and desperate breaths. Rounding the corner, you almost slip but manage to regain your balance and continue to run. To your surprise you can hear the crowd cheering from the closed doors at the end of the hall. That means the game is still playing. Pulling open one of the doors you walk in until you’re standing next to the bleachers, a clear view of the game. Jungkook stands in the center of the court, yelling at his teammates. Within the crowd of moving players, the ball is passed to Jungkook. He glances around in front of him, seeming to look around for an opening. He mutters to himself before staring ahead and jumping up, tossing the ball.

You watch the ball fly across the court, hitting the rim once, twice—swish! The crowd erupts in cheers, the team members surrounding Jungkook as he yells in victory, fist in the air. You clap along with the crowd as some go to the center of the court and others leaving, talking about the game. You've never seen a basketball game, but from the way everyone is cheering so loudly you would have loved to have gone to one of his games; sit in the crowd, cheer when shots are made and boo when the opposing team does something. You don't know a lot about basketball, but you're willing to learn for him.

Jungkook's eyes meet yours from within the huge group surrounding him. He smiles brightly at you and your breath catches in your throat. He pushes his way through, jogging up to you. "You made it!" He’s sweaty, hair sticking to his forehead.

You exhale, "I didn't make it in time. I just saw the last shot, but I missed everything else. I'm sorry—" You’re cut off by his lips meeting yours. You feel yourself melting as you close your eyes, feeling his soft lips move against yours before pulling away.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he whispers against your lips. It seems as though he doesn't want to stop, even as he apologizes. You cup his cheeks, pressing your lips against his once more. It’s like a million butterflies fluttering in your stomach, the sound of the cheering people disappearing, and all there is in this building is you and him. He pulls away again, this time further but not far enough as you feel his breath against your lips as he asks, "Would you like to go on a date?"

You open your eyes to meet his. Smiling, you tell him, “Yes.”

[holylulusworld]

I still cry

Summary: A break-up sometimes leads to worse things than heartbreak.

Pairing: former Dean x Reader; Dean x Lisa

Characters: Bobby Singer, OFC Judith, Sam Winchester

Warnings: angst, heartbreak, a break-up, abandonment, low self-esteem, tears, mentions of demons, a little Lisa hate (sorry), no happy ending, sorry, not sorry

A/N: Written for @katehuntington​​​‘s 1K Celebration (Congratulations!). My song was ‘I still cry’ by Ilse DeLange. I used the song for inspiration and some of the lyrics (in Italics). The song originally is for a passed loves-one, but I decided to use it to describe the heartbreak and pain the reader feels after she got left behind.

A/N2: For my story, Sam came back with an intact soul.

Three months after he left, … 

“How was your weekend, Y/N?” your colleague asks, watching you fold another paper flower for the upcoming school festival. 

You like to keep your hands busy to stop thinking about the love you lost. All the flowers you tried to grow in the backyard died. It’s like no one wants to stay with or stay alive around you.

“Fine,” you reply, eyes dropping to your phone once again. Since he left the night Sam jumped into the pit you always hoped Dean will answer one of your calls or at least send you a message, explaining why you weren’t enough. “I tried to renovate my bedroom.”

“That’s nice,” you hate the pity in your much younger colleague’s eyes. It’s the same look people give you any time their eyes land on you – or at least you think they can see the heartbreak you went through over the last months. “If you need help, just tell us so, Y/N. You are new to the team, but we like you.”

“I will think about it, Judith. Thank you,” how you hate that you sound like a broken record. 

I’m fine. No, I don’t need your help. Please don’t ask about Dean. Hunting is over for me. Just don’t ask…

I still cry sometimes when I remember you

I still cry sometimes when I hear your name

I said goodbye and I know you're alright now

But when the leaves start falling down I still cry

Six months after he left, … 

“Kiddo, I’ve missed you,” Bobby chuckles, standing in front of your door. “Did you think you can just push me away and an old geezer like me gives up that easily?”

You huff but for a moment, you smile. “I’ve missed you too, Bobby,” you throw yourself into your friends’ arms. Ashamed you didn’t call him back you sniff silently. “I’m sorry, I just needed some time to figure things out.”

“So, you’re out of business?” watching you shake your head Bobby sighs deeply. He wishes you would’ve stayed out of the hunting business and find happiness and a nice man staying by your side. “I thought you wanted out.”

“I was – for a while at least,” choking out the words you grasp Bobby’s hand to lead him into your house. “Problem is that the monsters and demons didn’t get the memo. One day I prepare a school festival and the next I find myself surrounded by demons. I had no choice but to leave.”

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” Bobby takes the beer you offer, grumbling as he would’ve like to see you fall in love and become a mother one day. “Did he call?”

“Please don’t ask,” you plea, not meeting Bobby’s gaze. You’re too ashamed you still hope Dean will return to you. Even though, you know better. 

“Y/N,” Bobby sighs deeply, eyes sadden at the mere sight of you. Thinner than usual, eyes missing the light you sit in front of your godfather. “I shouldn’t have asked, kiddo.”

“I don’t want to sound pathetic but talking about him makes things worse. I had hoped he would explain why,” sitting on the worn-out couch in your living room you slump into yourself. “I guess that I never was enough. You know, she’s a pretty thing, has a house, a son, and a normal life to offer. And I heard yoga-instructors are bendable.”

“Did you see her – them?” you nod, eyes not meeting Bobby’s. “Oh, Y/N,” my friend, the father I never had sniffs. “Why didn’t you tell him not to go? I know you wanted Dean to have a normal life but hurting yourself shouldn’t be part of the deal.”

“I knew only one of us will make it out alive, Bobby,” you give your friend a sad smile, shrugging when he gets up to look out of the window. “I wanted Dean to be happy. If he’s happy with someone else, I’m happy for him.”

“Your selflessness borders on stupidity!” Bobby grunts. “That boy should be here, with you Y/N. Lisa seems to be a nice girl, but she’s not you.”

“EXACTLY, Bobby,” jumping up you try to explain to Bobby why you knew Dean would leave you sooner or later. “I knew Dean will leave me, Bobby. I wanted to keep a tiny piece of dignity. In the end, he would’ve kept his promise to Sam and get out of this life, but not with me by his side.”

“How’d you know, kiddo? Maybe Dean would’ve stayed by your side and you could be happy,” your friend cries. “Jesus, I can’t believe you broke your own heart.”

“I did it to protect myself, Bobby. I heard Dean call her, okay,” sniffing you join Bobby to look out of the window. “The night after Sam jumped into the pit, Dean called Lisa asking if he can come around.”

“OH,” eyes squinting toward the old car in your ramp Bobby tries to figure out how to help you. “What happened that night? Dean refused to answer my calls so…”

“It’s a blur, Bobby,” you close your eyes, try to recall the night Dean left but all you remember are the tears running down your face when you ran after his car. The rain washing your tears away – but not the pain.

It's just that I recall September

It's just that I still hear your song

It's just I can't seem to remember

Forever more those days are gone

“Dean didn’t fight for me, that’s what happened. I told him that I heard every word and he just stood there, his keys in his hand. I saw a hint of guilt in his eyes, but this wasn’t enough to stay with me,” blinking the tears away you clutch your hand to your chest. “I told Dean to go and live the life Sam wanted him to live.”

“And he did? Just like that?” nodding you turn your back toward the window, closing your eyes for a moment. “Not even a call for almost six months?”

“No call. No message. No number he sent me in case of emergency,” it’s a matter-of-fact Dean cut you out of his life. “You know, sometimes it feels normal that he’s not with me anymore and other days, I only need to remember his name and break down, crying like a stupid baby.”

“Heartbreak is never easy, kiddo.”

“Never said so, Bobby. Honestly, it feels worse than heartbreak. I know he’s out there, living his best life but to me, it feels like he died. I guess, my heart tries to cope with the loss this way. It tells me he’s gone, even though, Dean is with her.”

“Do you like to live here?” Bobby clears his throat, wrapping one arm around your shoulders. “You can always come with me, leave this shitty town behind and be my eyes and ears. Y/N, I don’t want you to be gone one day too. I’m too old to lose my kids.”

“I could come with you,” being alone with a broken heart and your self-doubts won’t do any good. “I don’t have much to pack.”

“I got a nice guest room, kiddo. If Dean doesn’t care about you, I do,” the bitterness behind Bobby’s words brings you to tears. “I thought I know the boy better…”

I still cry sometimes when I remember you

I still cry sometimes when I hear your name

I said goodbye and I know you're alright now

But when the leaves start falling down I still cry

Almost six months later, …

It’s half a year later that Sam, Dean, and Lisa step into Bobby’s house, bringing fresh tears and more heartbreak to you.

“Sammy,” the only person you greet is Sam, your best friend who magically got resurrected. “I didn’t want to believe the rumors.”

“Same,” arms wrapped tightly around you Sam watches his brother look at you. Dean tried to make you talk to him for half a day, but you just walked away, refusing to even face the man breaking your heart so easily. “I thought he would stay with you.”

“No, Sammy. Why would a man stay with someone like me if he can have yoga barbie?” you whisper, not wanting Lisa to hear. “He deserves someone who got no clue where he’s coming from and all the shit happening in his life.”

“Still-“ Bobby is the one breaking the awkward moment.

“We got a job to do, kiddo. If you want to, you can sit this one out,” nodding you look up at Sam, giving him a sad smile. 

“I will help Rufus meanwhile. You can call me when he’s gone back to his apple pie life, Bobby,” patting Sam’s chest you give your friend a soft smile. “And you’ll have a lot to explain, Mr. Winchester. I hope you will stick around so we can catch up with our shitty lives.”

You are gone before Dean gets the chance to say a word to you. He walks out of Bobby’s house to watch you drive away.

His eyes fill with tears and even when your car is long gone, leaving a cloud of dust behind, he stands outside, wondering how his life would’ve been with you by his side…

I still cry sometimes when I remember you

I still cry sometimes when I hear your name

I said goodbye and I know you're alright now

But when the leaves start falling down I still cry

But when the leaves start falling down I still cry

>> Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[animeyanderelover]

Hi first of all I'm sorry for not thanking you enough for the last two shots you wrote for me the child s/o and main four was unique and adorable and the Leorio one was absolute gold I've been having a rough time my laptop broke and my instructor is mad b/c of falling behind so I didn't have the energy to talk . Anyway if it's ok I'd love a Kurapika shot with a snarky stubborn s/o who makes trouble after capture thought it go well with prompt 81 the hard dark stuff helps me process my grief

Hard and dark, huh? I will always prefer soft and desperate. But who am I to decline my darling’s wishes?

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, aggressive and vicious behavior, threatening, violence, self-harming behavior

Prompt 81: “The more you struggle now, the heavier your punishment will be later on.”

Kurapika didn’t know if you were either just stupid or incredibly stubborn, feeling his already strained string of patience run thin more and more with each passing day. He knew that you could be very thick-headed, but currently you were balancing on a very thin and dangerous line. And you had to know that too, didn’t you? From the look in your eyes he guessed so, fear visible in your face, staring with a scared yet defiant look on your face at him, clearly not wanting to show him how afraid you really were. But who wouldn’t if someone with scarlet red eyes was towering right over you, looking like a demon staring right into your soul? You had to know that you had crossed his line, didn’t you? So why were you still so determined to get on his nerves? Why were you still fighting? You reminded him somewhat of a cornered animal, scared and anxious, but still struggling and fighting back. And to be honest, right now the term “predator and prey” seemed to fit almost too well, you quite literally being pressed into the corner of the bathroom with Kurapika looking like he was about to snap someone’s neck, jaw clenched tightly together that you almost feared one of his teeth would break any moment, the nails of his fingers digging tightly into his hand that you were sure at any moment he would cut his palm with it.

“So what? What are you going to do now?”, you sneered at him, glaring angrily up at him. “Why am I still going?”, you asked yourself silently. You knew that he was too close to losing it and you knew that there was the possibility of you getting hurt. So why? Why were you still continuing to push him over his limits? You hated this, hated that you could never shut your mouth for once. As soon as a thought entered your head, you had to say it out loud, no matter how much trouble it would bring you later on. Small habits were indeed very dangerous. But no matter how much you had tried to keep quiet, your stubbornness had always gotten the best from you, earning you not exactly the best friends or many friends to begin with. You had always been a trouble maker and the more you were stressed out, the more you always found yourself getting harsher and bolder with your words and actions. So this had been destined from the very moment Kurapika had kidnapped you, that you two would end up in such a situation. It would have been to pretty to be true to find someone who would be able to put up with this thorny character of yours, keeping you in check. You guessed Kurapika had either underestimated your savage side or overestimated his own limits. Or maybe it had been both, but that wasn’t the important thing now.

Since the very first moment you had been stuck in this house, you had only caused troubles, rebelling in hopes that he would let you go. You had thrown away everything he had gotten you, had attacked him several times, had thrown things after him and had also caused quite the damage in the house, often hurting yourself in the process, but you hadn’t cared, knowing that it would make Kurapika go crazy. No person would have been able to endure this for too long, not even the most patient person. And so you had witnessed Kurapika getting more forceful and mad with his actions and behavior more and more, his grip when you were about to throw something at him getting tighter and tighter, bringing him to the point where he left bruises on you. He had resorted to restraining you, tying you up and locking you in your room which had only lightened the fire in you even more. So for whatever he had hoped to reach with this, it had only brought him the opposite effect, causing you to get more beastly and sarcastic with each passing day. And you didn’t know how to stop, but in such moments you didn’t care, only caring about giving Kurapika a hard time. For what had you even hoped? That he would get so feed up with you that he would end up kicking you out? It was a rather stupid hope, even though you had to admit that this was what you had hoped for a bit. But you guessed the main reason was that you had wants to bring a point over. That you wouldn’t be carved into a submissive lover from him who would play the role of the housewife.

“(y/n). Stop. Now.” Low and dangerous, you knew that one wrong word now could der him off. His eyes were telling you everything you had to know. For a moment you became quiet, glancing around the mess you had made. All tubes filled with cream, shampoo and soap were scattered around randomly, some were open and completely destroyed, the liquid that had been once in them being smeared all over the place. A pool of water had formed itself in here, causing you to sit on the wet ground. You had freely broken the shower head, water still tickling down on it. If you looked closely, you could also see the shards glittering in it, the light illuminating the fragments of the now broken mirror. And around you a light shade of red had started to taint the transparent water, your knuckles still bleeding from punching the mirror. At least you weren’t the only one who had hurt themself in the process, on Kurapika’s face being a few scratches visible too. But this had been only luck though, Kurapika being too shocked when having first entered the room to realize you throwing pieces of the mirror at him. It wouldn’t be wise to anger him more. You knew that too well. You knew that you had to keep your mouth shut. You knew that you should just apologize or even say nothing if you wanted to get out unharmed from this situation. You knew it so well.

“Or what? What will you do? Tying me up again? Starving me? Locking me away? Do you seriously think that this will work?” So why were you still continuing with all of this? Was it really that hard to keep quiet for even a short moment? At least a few minutes? It wasn’t that hard to shut up. All you had to do was closing your mouth and not opening it again. But why seemed such a simple thing to do suddenly do hard to master? It was almost like an impossible thing to do for you. You could only pray that you would magically go mute, ridiculous to think about since this impossible. “What do you even hope to reach with this? Disciplining me? Pathetic.” Your tone sounded like you wanted to pick a fight, but in reality you just wanted to run away, wanted to hide somewhere and tape your mouth with something. Everything to make you shut up. “Do you really think that this will help you reaching your goal? Bending me according to your will? Do you think telling me that you just want to protect me will work? What do you think will happen to me if you keep me isolated in here? Do you hope to break my mind? To make me think that the world is really a dangerous place? Good grief, you really are messed up, aren’t you? Why don’t you just look around once in a while to get this sense thing into your head? The only dangerous thing for me here and in the entire world. Is. You.” The last two words were hissed by you, clear spitefulness dripping from your voice.

Kurapika didn’t say anything, making you question whether to worry or not. But then he slowly kneeled down, his movements terribly slowly, putting you on high alert. He didn’t say anything, just staring at you, giving you the feeling that he could melt your skin with this intense gaze of his, the red eyes awakening the impression that his eyes were burning. Keep quiet, keep quiet, keep quiet, keep quiet. “What? Did you swallow your tongue or something like this?” You gave him this kind of smile that basically screamed fake, sending him a short glare afterwards. But Kurapika didn’t react, at least not visibly, keeping a strange stoic expression on his face. This was concerning. Instead his gaze wandered to your knuckles, skin ripped open and exposing the sensitive wounds to his eyes. For a short moment you thought that he would make a fuss about it again, preparing to throw another line at him. But before a word could left your lips, you suddenly hissed painfully, Kurapika suddenly pressing your hands tightly in a not comforting manner, making you yelp when he yanked you up back on your two feet, fingers pressing exactly on the spots where your fresh cuts and wounds were. And with a dreadful feeling you realized that he did it on purpose, knowing that he hurt you, but not stopping. He wanted to hurt you right now. Why would he do that? And why were you surprised? You had been the one who had brought this upon yourself.

“What the heck?! You moron! You’re hurting me! Let go of me! Weren’t you the one who told me a few weeks ago that you would protect me from any danger?! I don’t know if you know this with the narrowed knowledge of social acts you have, but currently you’re doing exactly what you promised to protect me from! I guess now I need someone to kidnap me so they can protect me from you!” It was your fault! Why couldn’t you accept that? “Just shut up?! Do you want to die?!”, you screamed inside your head, wanting to punch yourself or slam your head against the wall. But the most terrifying part was that despite tightening his grip on your hands, Kurapika didn’t say anything, just dragging you silently out of the bathroom. Oh yes, that was it. His silence that clearly didn’t fit the aura surrounding him, a feeling thickly painted with frustration and anger. Like the silence before a heavy storm that would destroy anything in it’s way. That was the feeling you were getting from him, causing you to react panicked, kicking and pulling desperately, trying to free yourself from his by now iron-like grip, ignoring the warm blood trickling down from the freshly reopened wound. “Let go of me! Are you deaf?! Seriously, are you really gonna hurt me?! Wow, you’ve really sunken low, haven’t you? No wonder you’re such a loner. No one wants to be befriended with such a violent and cold-hearted demon like you.” What was with you? You had been a loner too.

“The more you struggle now, the heavier your punishment will be later on.” And all it took for Kurapika was one sentence, one sharp look to paralyze you. Gosh, you were such a loser, talking almighty, but in reality not even be able to hold your own mouth. You saw all the bottled up emotions on his face, all the anger and madness swirling inside of those glowing eyes. And somewhere down there you also saw something similar to regret. And you pitied yourself in that moment too, knowing that you had just caused someone to snap who had tried his hardest to show patience with you. And he had endured it for weeks, setting a new record. No one had ever been willing to put that long up with you. And you had just pushed all of his wrong buttons and you could read from the look in his eyes that what was about to come wouldn’t be pleasant in the least bit, the sudden darkness clouding his eyes telling you that a very violent lecture was awaiting you. You could have accepted it, begged for forgiveness, tried to apologize in hopes that he might go milder on you. But you did the complete opposite. Cutting your own tongue out suddenly looked very appealing.

“Congratulations for just reaching a new kind of low. I feel glad that your clan is already dead.” And suddenly Kurapika stopped, grip on your hand tightening to the extent that you were sure that only a bit more pressure would be needed to break it. Not only that, but all of a sudden the air seemed to change, you feeling like every moment it would crush you into tiny pieces. Stop it!! “If they would see you right now they would surely turn around in their grave!” STOP IT!!! “I guess you should feel glad as well that they’re all dead by now. They would have been so ashamed of you, surely not accepting you as a clan member anymore. I mean, who would after finding out that someone from their own flesh and blood would sink that low to kidnap someone? Where’s your honor?” He had started shaking by now, the air feeling like many invisible daggers, ready to plunge into your whole body at any moment. WHAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WITH YOU?! WERE YOU A SUICIDAL MANIAC?! SHUT YOUR STUPID MOUTH?! “And now you really tell me that you try to restore those clan of yours? Give up on your silly little dream. They’re dead and you’re the last one. You want revenge? You want to bring your clan back to life with my help? You wouldn’t have to do this if you would have just been there to protect them back then. Or if you would have just died with them. Then I wouldn’t have to endure all of this. You can pretend to be my “guardian” as much as you want, but in reality you just see me as an excuse to help your own guilt, right? You try to justify your behavior by telling yourself that you want to protect me when in reality you just don’t want to live with the guilt of your failure years ago. And I’m the perfect balm for your wound. That’s so lame, you know that right? You’re so-“

“ENOUGH!” His sudden scream made you jump back, followed by a sudden crashing sound. You remained frozen, staring shocked at him. Kurapika himself seemed shaken up, returning your gaze, eyes wide and staring with a wide variety of emotions inside of them. Tears started gathering in your eyes, slowly shifting your eyes to your hand. Blood was freely dropping down from it, the whole skin having bursted due to him suddenly crushing your hand like this. But that wasn’t the most gruesome thing. It was the way your hand had suddenly twisted, the numb pain somewhere in the back of your mind helping you realize very slowly what had happened. He...had broken your hand. And the moment you finally processed what had happened, the whole impact suddenly hit you. And for a moment everything turned black in front of your eyes, the sudden pain causing you to drop to your knees, and letting out a pained and shrill scream. Kurapika himself looked like he didn’t believe what had just happened, letting shocked go of your hand which you quickly pulled to your chest.

You sobbed harshly, the pain being too much to handle for you in that moment. It was to a certain extent your fault, you knew that. But that didn’t stop you to let your tongue get the better of him. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?! You just broke my hand!! You’re a monster!! A demon!! Do me the favor and die somewhere alone and painfully!!” Kurapika had taken a few steps back, staring shocked at your hunched over form on the ground, regret an disbelief visible on his face as well as hurt when hearing your words. And just for a short moment you had the feeling that he wanted to apologize before it happened. The dark expression returned to his face, glazing his eyes and all of a sudden it was like his life spark had been turned off, his red eyes suddenly appearing more dull, causing him to look emotionless, cold to look down on you. “It’s your fault. I’ve warned you several times to stop. So don’t blame me for this. The only one you have to blame now is you.” Hot tears flowed down your face, your whole body feeling like it was on fire, not only because if the pain currently cursing through your entire system. You also burned up because of your feelings. You knew that he was right, self-shame and frustration as well as dread filling your entire mind, leading to even more tears spilling from your eyes. But what was your response?

“F-fuck you, you bastard. I hate you, Kurapika.”